<g>The Empress Maud</g>, p. 41.--Holinshed, on the authority of Polydor, relates a “scandalous story” affecting the character of this lady, which, if true, robs William de Albini of the credit so generally given him, for having been the pacificator between King Stephen and young Duke Henry. It is very quaintly told by the old chronicler, p. 63, and by Polydor. Verg. lib. xij.:--“Sunt qui tradunt aliam fuisse causam qua Stephanus flexus sit ad pacem, qui referūt Mathildē amicā potius q’ inimicā Stephani fuisse, et eam, cum videret rem inter ipsum Stephanū et Henricū filiū eò deductā, ut armis finienda esset, clàm ad Stephanū adivisse atq’ sic eum allocutā: Ecquid, impie ac tui generis immemor, facere tētas? Decet ne patrem perdere filiū? an fas est ut filius patrem occidat? Amabo te, des locum iræ, projiciasq’ tela manu, nā Henricū, uti probè scis, ex te enixa sum! Et his dictis, ordine cōmemorasse quem admodum paullo antèq’ Gaufredo nuberet, ab eo compressa fuisset; ac ijs verbis Stephanū motū pacē fecisse.” [Illustration] <g>Syr Bevis</g>, Text 37.--For the groundwork of the following legend, as connecting Sir Bevis with Arundel Castle, we are indebted to a lady resident near the spot. Sir Bevis, as noticed, p. 326, is familiar to every reader of romance; and the traditional history of his prowess has often been heard at the baron’s hearth, when the spirit of chivalry was fanned by the approving smile of beauty, and the sound of the harp sweetened the intervals of repose. “O, who has not heard of <g>Bevis</g> the Bold? Whose sword was the theme of harpers old; Compared with which, like a willow-wand Was the sword that gleamed in Paynim hand. And oft through the Pagan’s steely array, For the Cross of St. George, it had cleft his way. Syr Bevis was stout of heart and limb: And his meekest look was so stern and grim, That even his squire grew deadly pale, As he buckled for battle Syr Bevis’ mail! And wherever for knightly feats he went, Equipped for battle or tournament, His very shadow refused to stay, And shrunk like a craven thing away. So fierce and fell was the hero’s stroke, ’Twould have cleft at a blow the forest oak; While around him heads of Saracen lay, Paving with helms Syr Bevis’ way.