"Saving there came a little gray hawke, A merlin him they call, Which untill the grounde did strike the grype, That dead he downe did fall. 80 "Giffe I were a man, as now I am none, A battell wold I prove, To fight with that traitor Aldingar: Att him I cast my glove. "But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 85 My liege, grant me a knight To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar, To maintaine me in my right." "Now forty dayes I will give thee To seeke thee a knight therin: 90 If thou find not a knight in forty dayes, Thy bodye it must brenn." Then shee sent east, and shee sent west, By north and south bedeene; But never a champion colde she find, 95 Wolde fight with that knight soe keene. Now twenty dayes were spent and gone, Noe helpe there might be had; Many a teare shed our comelye queene, And aye her hart was sad. 100 Then came one of the queenes damselles, And knelt upon her knee: Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame, I trust yet helpe may be. "And here I will make mine avowe, 105 And with the same me binde, That never will I return to thee, Till I some helpe may finde." Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye, Oer hill and dale about; 110 But never a champion colde she finde, Wolde fighte with that knight so stout. And nowe the daye drewe on apace, When our good queene must dye; All woe-begone was that fair damselle, 115 When she found no helpe was nye. All woe-begone was that faire damselle, And the salt teares fell from her eye; When lo! as she rode by a rivers side, She met with a tinye boye. 120 A tinye boy she mette, God wot, All clad in mantle of golde; He seemed noe more in mans likenesse, Then a childe of four yeere olde. "Why grieve you, damselle faire?" he sayd, 125 "And what doth cause you moane?" The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke, But fast she pricked on. "Yet turne againe, thou faire damselle, And greete thy queene from mee; 130 When bale is at hyest, boote is nyest; Nowe helpe enoughe may bee. "Bid her remember what she dreamt, In her bedd wheras shee laye; How when the grype and the grimly beast 135 Wolde have carried her crowne awaye, "Even then there came the little gray hawke, And saved her from his clawes: Then bidd the queene be merry at hart, For heaven will fende her cause." 140