But, madam, said Sir Valentine,

And knelt upon his knee;

Know you the cloak that wrapped your babe,
If you the same should see?

And pulling forth the cloth of gold,
In which himself was found,
The lady gave a sudden shriek,
And fainted on the ground.

But by his pious care revived,
His tale she heard anon;
And soon by other tokens found,
He was indeed her son.

But who's this hairy youth, she said,
He much resembles thee;

The bear devoured my younger son,
Or sure that son was he?

Madam, this youth with bears was bred,
And reared within their den;

But recollect ye any mark,

To know your son again?

Upon his little side, quoth she,

Was stamped a bloody rose,—

Here lady, see the crimson mark,
Upon his body grows.

Then clasping both her new-found sons,
She bathed their cheeks with tears;

And soon towards her brother's court,
Her joyful course she steers.

What pen can paint King Pepin's joy?
His sister thus restored;

And soon a messenger was sent,

To cheer her drooping lord.

Who came in haste, with all his peers,
To fetch her home to Greece,
Where many happy years they reigned,
In perfect love and peace.

To them Sir Ursine did succeed,
And long the sceptre bare;
Sir Valentine he stayed in France,
And was his uncle's heir.

PERCY.

ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.

FROM the Pepysian Collection, and probably of the time of James the First.

OF Hector's deeds did Homer sing,
And of the sack of stately Troy,
What griefs fair Helena did bring,
That was Sir Paris' only joy;
And by my pen I will recite
St. George's deeds—an English knight.

Against the Saracens so rude,

Fought he full long and many a day,
Where many Giants he subdued,
In honour of the Christian sway;
And after many adventures past,
To Egypt land he came at last.

Now, as the story plain doth tell,

Within that country then did rest
A dreadful Dragon fierce and fell,
Whereby they were full sore opprest;
Who by his poisonous 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 wise men did intreat,

To shew their cunning, out of hand,
What way they might this fiend destroy
That did the country thus annoy.

The wise men all before the king,

This answer framed, incontinent,
The Dragon none to death might bring,
By any means they could invent:

His skin more hard than brass was found,
No sword or spear could pierce or wound.

When this the people understood,

They cried out most piteously:

The Dragon's breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they die :
Among them such a plague it bred,
The living scarce could bury the dead.

No means there were, as they could hear,
For to appease the Dragon's rage,
But to present some virgin clear,*
Whose blood his fury might appease.
Each day he would a maiden eat,
For to allay his hunger great.

* In the Chivalric ages, dragons formed a striking class in Natural History: they had a most unhappy and wicked custom of eating young ladies, which, however, was generally, in the most interesting cases, frustrated by the appearance of some gallant and generous Knight, who spitted the dragon instead, and was of course rewarded with the hand of the lady, who, in addition to perfect beauty, was adorned with every virtue. So far it is a pretty fable. But "the age of chivalry is gone," as said the eloquent Burke: and the dragons of romance are gone with it,-wings, tails, and all. Yet it is to be feared that the fair sex meet with too many biped ones, who would indeed devour them !-and against whom, in this selfish age, they may look in vain for a generous champion.

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
Taken up to serve the Dragon's will.
Thus did the Dragon every day

Untimely crop some virgin flower, Till all the maids were worn away, And none were left him to devour, Saving the King's fair daughter bright, Her father's only heart's delight.

Then came the officers to the King,
That heavy message to declare,
Which did his heart with sorrow sting,-
She is, quoth he, my kingdom's heir;

O! let us all be poisoned here,

Ere she should die that is my dear.

Then rose the people presently,

And to the King in rage they went: They said his daughter dear should die, The Dragon's fury to preventOur daughters are all dead, quoth they, And have been made the Dragon's prey.

And by their blood we rescued were, And thou hast saved thy life thereby, And now, in sooth, it is but fair

For us thy daughter thus should die. O, save my daughter, said the King, And let me feel the Dragon's sting!

Then fell fair Sabra on her knees,

And to her father dear did say,