An Excellent Ballad of St. GEORGE for ENGLAND,
and the King of AEgypts Daughter, whom he deliver'd from Death;
and how he slew a Monstrous Dragon, etc.
To the Tune of, Flying Fame, etc.
Licens'd and Enter'd according to Order.
|
OF Hectors Deeds did Homer sing,
|
and of the Sack of stately Troy,
|
What Grief fair Hellen did them bring,
|
which was Sir Pariss only Joy:
|
And with my Pen I must recite,
|
St. Georges Deeds, an English Knight.
|
Against the Sarazens full rude,
|
fought he full long and many a Day,
|
Where many a Giant he subdu'd,
|
in Honour of the Christian Way:
|
And after many Adventures past,
|
To AEgypt 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 poyson'd 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 Wife Men did intreat,
|
to shew their Cunning out of hand;
|
Which way they might this Dragon 'stroy,
|
That did their Country so annoy.
|
The Wise Men 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 cried out most piteously,
|
The Dragon's Breath infected their Blood,
|
that they each Day in Heaps did die;
|
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 Dragon's Rage,
|
But by a Virgin pure and kind,
|
whereby he might his Fury 'swage;
|
Each Day he would a Maiden eat,
|
For to allay his Hunger great.
|
This thing by Art the Wise Men found,
|
which truly must observed be,
|
Wherefore throughout the City round,
|
a Virgin pure of good Degree,
|
Was by the King's Commission still,
|
Took up to serve the Dragon's Will.
|
Thus did the Dragon every Day,
|
a Maiden of the Town devour,
|
Till all the Maids were worn away,
|
and none were left that present Hour;
|
Saving the King's fair Daughter bright,
|
Her Father's Joy and Heart's 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 Kingdom's Heir;
|
O let us all be poysoned 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 die,
|
the Dragon's Fury to prevent:
|
Our Daughters all are dead, quoth they,
|
And have been made the Dragon's Prey.
|
And by their blood thou hast been blest,
|
and thou hast sav'd thy 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 Dragon's 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 Dragon's Prey;
|
It may be for my sake alone,
|
This Plague upon the Land was shown.
|
'Tis better I should dye, she said,
|
than all your Subjects perish quite;
|
Perhaps the Dragon here was laid,
|
for my Offence to work this Spight;
|
And after he has suck'd 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 Dragon's 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 Mother's 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 nor Care for me,
|
for you may have another Child;
|
Here for my Country's Good I'll 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 Dragon's Prey:
|
But as she there did weeping lye,
|
Behold St. George came riding by:
|
And seeing there a Lady bright,
|
fast tied to the Stake that Day,
|
Most like unto a valiant Knight,
|
straight unto her did take his way:
|
Tell me, sweet Maiden, then quote he,
|
What Person thus abused thee?
|
And lo, by Christ his Cross, 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 fiercly ride;
|
And with such Blows he did him greet,
|
That he fell under his Horse's Feet.
|
For with a Launce that was so strong,
|
as he came gaping in his Face,
|
In at his Mouth he thrust it along,
|
the which could pierce no other place:
|
And there within this Lady's View,
|
This dreadful Dragon then he slew.
|
The Savour of his poysoned Breath,
|
could do this Christian Knight no harm;
|
Thus did he save the Lady from Death,
|
and home he led her by the arm.
|
Which when Ptolomy did see,
|
There was great Joy and Melody.
|
Whenas the 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 fasly was betray'd.
|
The Lady Sabrine lov'd him well;
|
he counted her his only Joy:
|
But when their Love was open known,
|
it prov'd St. Georges great annoy:
|
The Morrocco King was in the Court,
|
Who to the Orchard did resort,
|
Daily to take the pleasant air,
|
for Pleasure sake he us'd to walk
|
Under the Wall, whereas he heard
|
St. George with Lady Sabrine 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 th' Sophy him to kill,
|
And treacherously his Blood to spill.
|
Thus they for Good did him reward
|
with Evil, and most subtily
|
By such vile Means they did devise,
|
to work his Death most cruely:
|
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 did wail and 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 Summer's Day;
|
Who yet for all his Batts of Steel,
|
Was forc'd the Sting of Death to feel.
|
From Christendom this valiant Knight,
|
then with warlike Soldiers past,
|
Vowing upon the Heathen Land
|
to work Revenge, which at the last
|
E're thrice three Years was gone and spent,
|
He did unto his great Content.
|
Save only AEgypt Land he spar'd,
|
for Sabrine bright, her only sake,
|
And e're 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 lead his life:
|
Who by the Vertue of a Chain,
|
Did still a Virgin pure remain.
|
To England then St. George did bring,
|
this gallant Lady Sabrine bright:
|
An Eunuch also came with him,
|
in whom the Lady did delight:
|
None but these three from AEgypt came;
|
Now let me Print St. Georges Fame.
|
When they were in the Forrest great,
|
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 Lions 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 dismay'd,
|
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.
|
Then when St. George did truly know,
|
his Lady was a Virgin true,
|
Those doleful Thoughts that e're was dumb
|
began most firmly to renew:
|
He set her on a Palphery 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 liv'd,
|
when Fortune did their Nuptials grace:
|
They many Years of Joy did see,
|
And led their lives at Coventry.
|
|
|
|
|
|