Eglamour with Balade (Page 32 of 36)
(p.84) Sa do I my moder be the rude
I weddyt hyr before none
Thare sall nane haf hyr be mary
Bot he that wynnis hyr doghtely
As I my self has done
Ilke lorde till oyr can say
For hyr luf we will turnay
With swerdis in oure hande
Quha sa may wyn yt lady clere
For till haf hyr till his fere
Quhare that hym lykis to leynde
Herrotis of armys furthe war sent
For to cry that turnament
In ilke landis ende
Sir eglemore was hamewart boune.
And herde of this deide of grete renoune
And thydder walde he wende
Grete lordis yt herde that cry<
Thiddir thai come full redy
Als fast as thay myght fare
The kyng of sowdan dyd alsa
And oyr lordis mony ma
That ryche colaris ware
Sir eglemore thoght he was last
He was noght werst for till oute cast
The knyght was cledde in care
Fra cristabell was done to se
Efterwart syk armys bare he
Lystynnis I wil yhow tell
He beris of ayour a schyp of golde
Richely portrait on the molde
