Likewise assayed to prove that girdle's powre.
And having it about her middle set
Did find it fit withouten breach or let,
Whereat the rest gan greatly to envie.
But Florimel exceedingly did fret

And snatching from her hand,' &c.

As for the trial of the Horne, it is not peculiar to our Poet: It occurs in the old romance, intitled 'Morte Arthur,' which was translated out of French in the time of K. Edw. IV. and first printed anno 1484. From that romance Ariosto is thought to have borrowed his tale of the Enchanted Cup, C. 42, &c. See Mr Warton's 'Observations on the Faerie Queen,' &c.

The story of the Horn in Morte Arthur varies a good deal from this of our Poet, as the reader will judge from the following extract. "By the way they met with a knight that was sent from Morgan la Faye to king Arthur, and this knight had a fair horne all garnished with gold, and the horne had such a virtue, that there might no ladye or gentlewoman drinke of that horne, but if she were true to her husband: and if shee were false she should spill all the drinke, and if shee were true unto her lorde, she might drink peaceably: and because of queene Guenever, and in despite of Sir Launcelot du Lake, this horne was sent unto king Arthur.'- -This horn is intercepted and brought unto another king named Marke, who is not a whit more fortunate than the British hero, for he makes his qeene drinke thereof and an hundred ladies moe, and there were but foure ladies of all those that drank cleane' of which number the said queen proves not to be one [Book II. chap. 22. Ed. 1632.] In other respects the two stories are so different, that we have just reason to suppose this Ballad was written before that romance was translated into English.

As for queen Guenever, she is here represented no otherwise than in the old Histories and Romances. Holinshed observes, that she was evil reported of, as noted of incontinence and breach of faith to hir husband.' Vol. I. p. 93. Such Readers as have no relish for pure antiquity will find a more modern copy of this Ballad at the end of the volume.

IN the third day of may,

To Carleile did come

A kind curteous child,

That cold much of wisdome.

A kirtle and a mantle
This child had uppon,
With [brouches] and ringės
Full richèlye bedone.

He had a sute of silke
About his middle drawne;

Ver 7, Branches, MS.

5

10

Without he cold of curtesye
He thought itt much shame.

'God speed thee, king Arthur,
Sitting at thy meate:

And the goodly queene Guénever,
I cannott her forgett.

I tell you, lords, in this hall;
I hett you all to [heede];
Except you be the more surer
Is you for to dread.'

He plucked out of his [poterner,]
And longer wold not dwell,

He pulled forth a pretty mantle,
Betweene two nut-shells.

'Have thou here, king Arthur;
Have thou heere of mee:
Give itt to thy comely queene
Shapen as itt is alreadye.

'Itt shall never become that wiffe,
That hath once done amisse.'

Then every knight in the kings court
Began to care for [his.]

Forth came dame Guénever;
To the mantle shee her [hied];
The ladye she was newfangle,
But yett shee was affrayd.

Ver. 18, heate, MS.-Ver. 21, poterver, MS.-Ver. 32, his wiffe, MS.-Ver.

34, bided, MS.

When shee had taken the mantle;
She stoode as shee had beene madd;
It was from the top to the toe
As sheerès had itt shread.

One while was itt [gule];
Another while was itt greene;
Another while was itt wadded:
Ill itt did her beseeme.

Another while was it blacke
And bore the worst hue:

"By my troth,' quoth king Arthur,
I thinke thou be not true.'

Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee;

Fast with a rudd redd,

To her chamber can shee flee.

6

She curst the weaver, and the walker,
That clothe that had wrought;

And bade a vengeance on his crowne,
That hither hath itt brought.

'I had rather be in a wood,
Under a greenè tree;
Then in king Arthurs court
Shamed for to bee.'

55

60

Forth came an old knight

Pattering ore a creede,

And he proferred to this little boy
Twenty markes to his meede;

Then every knight in the kings court
Bade evill might shee speed.

Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee;
And fast, with a redd rudd,
To her chamber can shee flee.

Craddocke called forth his ladye,
And bade her come in;
Saith, Winne this mantle, ladye,
With a little dinne.