But how can the resemblance of the leading features and the discrepancies in particulars be explained? I think the most probable conjecture is, that an old poem, now lost, existed, with which the authors of _Sir Eglamour_ and of _Sir Torrent_ were acquainted; but not having a MS. of it, or knowing it by heart, both of them made up their minds to rewrite the story in a well-known metre, changing, omitting, adding whatever they liked, even filling up the gaps in their memories by invention. Both of them recollected the first half of the story better than the second. That this poem was an English one seems to be shown by a good many verbal coincidences in both poems; these I accordingly suppose to have belonged to the lost original. They are, indeed, too frequent to be counted simply amongst the large stock of conventional phrases which are to be met with in every poem of this kind. Here they are:-- _Eglamour._ The boke of Rome th{u}s can telle. 408, 561, 886 _Torrent._ As the boke of Rome tellys. 187, 924, 1450, 1924 Ther ys a jeaunt here besyde, 478 That sorowe doyth ferre and wyde. On us and odur moo. There ys a gyante here besyde, In ale thys covntre fare and wyde, No man on lyve levythe hee. 960 And alle prayed for that knyght. 573 For hym aƚƚ they pray. 108 Alle that in the cyté ware. 598 Aƚƚ that in~ the sytte were. 1047 Alle that cuntrey was fulle fayne, 640 That he homeward was comyn ageyne. Gentilmen were blith and ffayn~, 1098 That he in helth was comyn~ agayn~. Aftur sopur, as y yow telle, He wendyd to chaumber with Crystyabelle. 670, 671 After mete, as I you teƚƚ, To speke with mayden Desoneƚƚ To her chamber he went. 1358-60 That lady was not for to hyde, 673-75 She sett hym on hur beddys syde, And welcomyd home that knyght. The damyseƚƚ so moche of pride, Set hym on~ her bed-syde, And said ‘welcom~ verament.’ 1363 So gracyously he come hur tylle, 679 Of poyntes of armys he schewyd hur hys fylle, 680 That there they dwellyd alle nyȝt. Such gestenyng he a-right, That there he dwellid aƚƚ nyȝt With that lady gent. 1364-66 A golde rynge y schalle geve the, 715 Kepe yt wele my lady free, Yf Cryste sende the a chylde! 717 Thes gold rynges I shaƚƚ yeve the, Kepe them weƚƚ, my lady ffre, Yf god a child vs send! 1396-1398 Doghtur, into the see schalt thou, 803 Yn a schypp alone, And that bastard that to the ys dere!