Then downe he knelt upon his knee, Before that lady gay: "O ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills; 155 These tokens I bring away."
"Now welcome, welcome, Syr Cauline, Thrice welcome unto mee, For now I perceive thou art a true knighte, Of valour bolde and free." 160
"O ladye, I am thy own true knighte, Thy hests for to obaye; And mought I hope to winne thy love!"-- No more his tonge colde say.
The ladye blushed scarlette redde, 165 And fette a gentill sighe: "Alas! syr knight, how may this bee, For my degree's soe highe?
"But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth, To be my batchilere, 170 Ile promise, if thee I may not wedde, I will have none other fere."
Then shee held forthe her liley-white hand Towards that knighte so free; He gave to it one gentill kisse, 175 His heart was brought from bale to blisse, The teares sterte from his ee.
"But keep my counsayl, Syr Cauline, Ne let no man it knowe; For, and ever my father sholde it ken, 180 I wot he wolde us sloe."
From that daye forthe, that ladye fayre Lovde Syr Cauline the knighte; From that daye forthe, he only joyde Whan shee was in his sight. 185
Yea, and oftentimes they mette Within a fayre arboure, Where they, in love and sweet daliaunce, Past manye a pleasaunt houre.
Everye white will have its blacke, And everye sweete its sowre: This founde the Ladye Christabelle In an untimely howre.
For so it befelle, as Syr Cauline 5 Was with that ladye faire, The kinge, her father, walked forthe To take the evenyng aire:
And into the arboure as he went To rest his wearye feet, 10 He found his daughter and Syr Cauline There sette in daliaunce sweet.
The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys, And an angrye man was hee: "Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe 15 And rewe shall thy ladie."
Then forthe Syr Cauline he was ledde, And throwne in dungeon deepe: And the ladye into a towre so hye, There left to wayle and weepe. 20
The queene she was Syr Caulines friend, And to the kinge sayd shee: "I praye you save Syr Caulines life, And let him banisht bee."
"Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent 25 Across the salt sea fome: But here I will make thee a band, If ever he come within this land, A foule deathe is his doome."
All woe-begone was that gentil knight 30 To parte from his ladye; And many a time he sighed sore, And cast a wistfulle eye: "Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte, Farre lever had I dye." 35