An excellent Ballad of St. GEORGE for England,
and the King of Egypts Daughter, whom he delivered from Death, and
how he flew a Monstrous Dragon, etc.
To the Tune of, Flying Fame, etc.
Licensed and Entered according to Order.
|
OF Hectors Deeds did Homer sing,
|
& of the sack of stately Troy,
|
What grief fair Hellen did them bring,
|
which was Sir Paris only joy:
|
And with my pen I must recite
|
St. Georges Deeds, an English Knight:
|
Against the Sarazens full rude
|
fought he full long & many a Day,
|
Where many a Gyant he subdu'd,
|
in honour of the Christian way;
|
And after many adventures past,
|
To Egypt Land he came at last.
|
And as the Story plain doth tell,
|
within that Country there did rest,
|
A dreadful Dragon fierce and fell,
|
whereby they were full sore opprest,
|
Who by his poisoned breath each Day,
|
Did many of the City slay.
|
The Grief whereof did grow so great,
|
throughout the Limits of the Land,
|
That they their wisemen did intreat,
|
to shew their cunning out of hand;
|
Which way they might this Dragon 'stroy,
|
That did their Country so annoy.
|
The wisemen all before the King,
|
fram'd this Matter incontinent,
|
The Dragon none to death might bring,
|
by any means they could invent;
|
His skin more hard than brass was found,
|
That sword or spear could pierce or wound.
|
When this the people understood,
|
they cryed out most piteously,
|
The Dragons breath infected their blood,
|
that they each day in heaps did Dye;
|
Amongst them such a Plague it bred,
|
The Living scarce could bury the Dead.
|
No means there was that they could find,
|
for to appease the Dragons rage,
|
But by a Virgin pure and kind,
|
whereby he might his fury swage;
|
Each Day he should a Maiden eat,
|
For to allay his Hunger great.
|
This thing by art the Wisemen found,
|
which truly must observed be,
|
Wherefore throughout the City round,
|
a Virgin pure of good Degree,
|
Was by the Kings Commission still,
|
Took up to serve the Dragons will.
|
Thus did the Dragon every Day
|
a Maiden of the town devour,
|
Till all the Maids were worn oway,
|
and none were left that present hour,
|
Saving the kings fair Daughter bright,
|
Her Fathers joy and hearts Delight.
|
Then came the Officers to the king,
|
this Heavy Message to declare,
|
Which did his heart with sorrow sting,
|
She is (quoth he) my Kingdoms Heir,
|
O let us all be poisoned here,
|
E'er she should dye that is my dear.
|
Then rose the People presently,
|
and to the king in rage they went,
|
Who said His Daughter dear should dye,
|
the Dragons fury to prevent;
|
Our daughters all are dead, quoth they,
|
And have been made the Dragons prey.
|
And by their blood thou hast been blest,
|
and thou hast sav'd their life thereby,
|
And now in Justice it doth rest,
|
for us thy Daughter so should dye.
|
O save my Daughter, said the king,
|
And let me feel the Dragons sting.
|
Then fell fair Sabrine on her knee,
|
and to her Father then did say,
|
O Father strive not thus for me,
|
but let me be the Dragons prey;
|
It may be for my sake alone,
|
This Plague upon the land was shown.
|
'Tis better I should die (she said)
|
than all your subjects perish quite,
|
Perhaps the Dragon here was laid,
|
for my offence to work this spight;
|
And after he hath suckt my gore,
|
Your Land shall know the grief no more.
|
What hast thou done (my Daughter dear)
|
for to deserve this heavy scourge?
|
It is my fault it shall appear,
|
which makes the Gods our state to grudge;
|
Then ought I dye to stint the strife,
|
And to preserve thy happy life.
|
Like mad men all the people cry'd,
|
thy death to us can do no good,
|
Our safety only doth abide
|
to make thy Daughter Dragons food.
|
Lo here I am, O then (quoth she)
|
Therefore do what you will with me.
|
Nay stay dear daughter, (quoth the Queen)
|
and as thou art a Virgin bright,
|
That hath for Vertue famous been,
|
so let me cloath thee all in white,
|
And crown thy head with flowers sweet,
|
An Ornament for Virgins meet
|
And when she was attired so,
|
according to her Mothers mind,
|
Unto the stake then did she go,
|
to which they did this virgin bind;
|
And being bound to stake and thrall,
|
She bid farewel unto them all:
|
Farewel, dear Father, then (quoth she)
|
and my sweet Mother meek and mild,
|
Take you no thought or care for me,
|
for you may have another Child:
|
Here for my Countries good Ile dye,
|
Which I receive most willingly.
|
The King and Queen with all their train,
|
with weeping eyes then went their way,
|
And let their Daughter there remain,
|
to be the hungry Dragons prey:
|
But as she there did weeping lie,
|
Behold St. George came riding by:
|
And seeing there a Lady bright,
|
fast tred to the stake that day,
|
Most like unto a Valiant Knight,
|
straight unto her did take his way:
|
Tell me sweet Maiden, then quoth he,
|
What person thus abused thee?
|
And lo by Christ his blood I vow,
|
which here is figured on my breast,
|
I will revenge it on his brow,
|
and break my Launce upon his crest:
|
And speaking thus whereas he stood,
|
The Dragon issu'd out of the wood.
|
The Lady that did first espy
|
the Dreadful Dragon coming so,
|
Unto St. George aloud did cry,
|
and willed him away to go,
|
Here comes that ugly Fiend, quoth she.
|
That soon will make an end of me.
|
St. George then looking round about,
|
the fiery Dragon soon espy'd,
|
And like a knight of Courage stout,
|
against him he did fiercely ride:
|
And with such blows he did him greet,
|
That he fell under his horses feet.
|
For with a Launce that was so strong,
|
as he came gaping in his face,
|
In at his mouth he thrust it long,
|
the which could pierce no other place:
|
And there within this Ladys view,
|
This dreadful Dragon then he slew.
|
The savour of his poisoned breath,
|
could do this Christian knight no harm;
|
Thus he did save this Lady from Death,
|
and home he led her by the arm;
|
Which when Ptolomy did see,
|
There was great Joy and Melody.
|
When as this famous knight St. George,
|
had slain the Dragon in the field,
|
And brought the Lady to the Court,
|
whose sight with joy their hearts then fill'd
|
He in the AEgyptian Court then staid,
|
Till he most falsly was betray'd.
|
The Lady Sabrine lov'd him well,
|
he counted her his only Joy,
|
But when their loves was open known
|
it prov'd St. Georges great annoy;
|
The Morrocco King was then in Court,
|
Who to the Orchard did resort.
|
Daily to take the pleasant air,
|
for pleasure sake he used to walk
|
Under the wall, whereas he heard
|
St. George with fair Sarabrine talk;
|
Their loves he revealed to the King,
|
Which to St. George great woe did bring.
|
These Kings together did devise
|
to make this Christian knight away,
|
With Letters him Ambassador,
|
they straightway sent to Persia,
|
And wrote to the Sophy him to kill,
|
And treacherously his blood to spill.
|
Thus they for good did him reward
|
with evil, and most subtilty,
|
By such vile means they did Devise
|
to work his Death most cruelly;
|
While he in Persia abode,
|
He straight Destroy'd each idol-god.
|
Which being done he straight was flung
|
into a Dungeon dark and deep;
|
But when he thought upon his wrong,
|
he bitterly began to weep;
|
Yet like a knight of Courage stout,
|
Forth of the Dungeon he got out.
|
And in the night three Horse-keepers
|
this valiant Knight by power slew,
|
Although he fasted many a day,
|
and then away from thence he flew,
|
On the best steed that Sophy had,
|
Which when he knew he was full sad.
|
Then into Christendom he came,
|
and met a Giant by the way,
|
With him in Combat he did fight,
|
most valiantly a Summers day;
|
Who yet for all his batts of steel,
|
Was forc'd the sting of death to feel.
|
From Christendom this valiant kni[ght,]
|
then with warlike Souldiers past,
|
Vowing upon that Heathen Land,
|
to work revenge, which at the last
|
E'er thrice three years was gone & spent
|
He did unto his great content.
|
Save only AEgypt land he spar'd,
|
for Sabrine bright her only sake,
|
And e'er his rage he did suppress,
|
he meant a tryal kind to make:
|
Ptolomy did know his strength in field,
|
And unto him did kindly yield.
|
Then he the Morrocco king did kill,
|
and took fair Sabrine to his wife,
|
And afterwards contentedly
|
with her St. George did leed his life:
|
Who by the vertue of a Chain,
|
Did still a Virgin pure remain.
|
To England then St. George did bri[ng,]
|
this Gallant Lady Sabrine bright,
|
An Eunuch also came with him,
|
in whom the Lady did delight:
|
None but these three from Egypt cam[e,]
|
Now let me Print St. Georges Fam[e.]
|
When they were in the Forrest gre[en]
|
the Lady did desire to rest:
|
And then St. George to kill a Deer
|
to feed thereon did think it best,
|
Left Sabrine and the Eunuch there,
|
While he did go and kill a Deer.
|
The meantime in his absence came
|
two hungry Lyons fierce and fell,
|
And tore the Eunuch presently
|
in pieces small the truth to tell;
|
Down by the Lady then they laid,
|
Whereby it seem'd she was a maid.
|
But when St. George from hunting came
|
and did behold this heavy chance,
|
Yet for this lovely virgin pure
|
his courage stout he did advance:
|
And came within the Lions sight,
|
Who run at him with all their might.
|
But he being no whit dismaid,
|
but like a stout and valiant knight,
|
Did kill the hungry Lions both,
|
within the Lady Sabrines sight;
|
But all this while sad and demure
|
She stood there like a virgin pure.
|
But when St. George did truly kn[ow,]
|
his Lady was a virgin true,
|
Those doleful thoughts that e'er wa[s dumb,]
|
began most firmly to renew:
|
He set her on a Palfrey steed,
|
And towards England came with speed
|
Where he arrived in short time
|
unto his Father's Dwelling-place,
|
Where with his Dearest Love he lived,
|
when Fortune did their Nuptials grace,
|
They many years of Joy did see,
|
And led their lives at Coventry.
|
|
|
|
|
|