The warden waged[101] on the morne, Two boldest men that ever were borne, I weine, or ever shall be; The one was Gilbert, Griffin's son, Full mickle worship has he wonne, Both by land and sea. The other was a bastard son of Spaine, Many a Sarazin hath he slain, His dint hath gart them die. These two men the battle undertooke, Against the sew, as says the booke, And sealed security. That they should boldly bide and fight, And skomfit her in maine and might, Or therefore should they die. The warden sealed to them againe, And said, "In feild if ye be slain, This condition make I: "We shall for you pray, sing, and read, To doomes-day with hearty speede, With all our progeny." Then the letters well was made, Bands bound with seales brade, As deedes of armes should be. These men of armes that weere so wight, With armour and with brandes bright, They went this sew to see; She made on them slike a rerd,[102] That for her they were sare afer'd And almost bound to flee. She came roveing them egaine; That saw the bastard son of Spaine, He braded[103] out his brand; Full spiteously at her he strake, For all the fence that he could make, She gat sword out of hand; And rave in sunder half his shielde, And bare him backward in the feilde, He might not her gainstand. She would have riven his privich geare, But Gilbert with his sword of werre, He strake at her full strong, On her shoulder till she held the swerd; Then was good Gilbert sore afer'd, When the blade brake in throng.[104] Since in his hands he hath her tane, She tooke him by the shoulder bane, And held her hold full fast; She strave so stiffly in that stower,[105] That through all his rich armour The blood came at the last. Then Gilbert grieved was sea sare, That he rave off both hide and haire, The flesh came fro the bone; And with all force he felled her there, And wann her worthily in werre, And band her him alone. And lift her on a horse sea hee, Into two paniers well-made of a tre, And to Richmond they did hay:[106] When they saw her come, They sang merrily Te Deum, The fryers on that day.[107] They thanked God and St. Francis,[108] As they had won the best of pris,[109] And never a man was slaine: There did never a man more manly, Knight Marcus, nor yett sir Gui, Nor Loth of of Louthyane.[110] If ye will any more of this, In the fryers of Richmond 'tis In parchment good and fine; And how fryer Middleton that was so kend, At Greta bridge conjured a feind, In likeness of a swine. It is well known to many a man, That fryer Theobald was warden than, And this fell in his time; And Christ them bless both farre and neare, All that for solace list this to heare, And him that made the rhime.