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cause_n	body_n	life_n	soul_n	5,160	5	5.5664	4	true

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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A46926	The famous history of the seven champions of Christendom St. George of England, St. Denis of France, St. James of Spain, St. Anthony of Italy, St. Andrew of Scotland, St. Patrick of Ireland, and St. David of Wales. Shewing their honourable battels by sea and land: their tilts, justs, turnaments, for ladies: their combats with gyants, monsters and dragons: their adventures in foreign nations: their enchantments in the Holy Land: their knighthoods, prowess, and chivalry, in Europe, Africa, and Asia; with their victories against the enemies of Christ. Also the true manner and places of their deaths, being seven tragedies: and how they came to be called, the seven saints of Christendom. The first part.; Most famous history of the seven champions of Christendome. Part 1	Johnson, Richard, 1573-1659?	1696 (1696)	Wing J800; ESTC R202613	400,947	510

changed their pleasant Pastime to a sad and bloody Tragedy for Sabra proffering to keep pace with them delighted to behold the valiant Encounters of her young Sons and being careless of herself through the over swiftness of her Steed she slipped beside her Saddle and so fell directly vpon a thomey brake of Brambles the pricks whereof more sharp than Spikes of Iron entred to every part of her delicate Body some pierce the lovely closets of her star-bright Eyes whereby instead of cristal pearled Tears there issued drops of purest Blood her Face before that blushed like the Morning 's radiant Countenance was now changed into a Crimson-red her milk white hands that lately strained the ivory Lute did seem to wear a bloody scarlet Glove and her tender Paps that had often sed her Sons with the Milk of Nature were all becent and ●or● with those accu●sed Brambles from whose deep Wounds there issued such a stream of purple Gore that it converted the Grass from a lively green to a crimson-hue and the abundance of Blood that trickled from her Breast began to enforce her Soul to give the World a woful Farewel Yet notwithstanding when her beloved Lord her sorrowful Sons and all the rest of the waful Champions had washed her wounded Body with a spring of Tears and when she perceived that she must of force commit herself to the fury of imperious Death she breathed forth this dying Exhortation Dear Lord said she in this unhappy Hunting must you lose the truest Wife that ever ●ay by any Prince's side yet mourn not you nor grieve you my Sons nor you brave Christian Knights but let your warlike Drums convey m● royally to my Tomb that all the World may write in brazen Books how I have followed my Lord the Pride of Christendom through many a bloody Field and for his sake have left my Parents Friends and Country and have travelled through many a dangerous Kingdom but now the cruel Fates have wrought their last spight and finished my Life because I am not able to perform what Love he hath deserved of me And now to you my Sons this Blessing do I leave behind even by the Pains that forty Weeks I once endured for your sakes when as you lay enclosed in my Womb and by my Travels in the Wilderness whereas my Groans upon your Birth-day did in my thinking cause both Trees and Stones to drop down Tears when as the merciless Tygers and tameless Lyons did stand like gentle Lambs and mourned to hear my Lamentations and by a Mother's Love that ever since I have born you imitate and follow your Father in all his honourable Attempts harm not the silly Infant nor the helpless Widow defend the Honour of distressed Ladies and give freely unto wounded Souldiers seek not to stain the unspotted Virgins with your Lust and adventure evermore to redeem true Knights from Captivity live evermore professed Enemies to Paganism and spend your Lives in the Quarrel and Defence of Christ that Babes as yet unborn in time to come may speak of you and record you in the Books of Fame to be true Christian Champions This is my Blessing and this is the Testament I leave behind for now I feel the chilness of pale Death closing the Closets of mine Eyes Farewel vain World dear Lord farewel sweet Sons you 'r famous Followers of my George and all true Christian Knights adieu These words were no sooner ended but with a heavy sigh she yielded up the Ghost whereat St. George being impatient in his sorrows fell upon her liveless Body tearing his Hair and rending his Hunter's Attire from his back into many pieces and at last when his Griefs were some what diminished he burst out into these bitter Lamentations Gone is the Star quoth he that lighted all the Nothern World whithered is the Rose that beautified our Christian Fields dead is the Dame that for her beauty stained all Christian Women for whom I 'll fill the Air with everlasting Mones Let this day henceforth be fatal to all times and counted for a dismal day of Death let never the Sun shew forth his Beams thereon again but Clouds as black as pitch cover the Earth with fearful Darkness let every Tree in this accursed Forrest henceforth be blasted with unkindly Winds let Brambles Herbs and Flowers consume and wither let Grass and blooming Buds perish and decay and all things near the place where she was slain be turned to dismal black and ghastly colour that the Earth itself in mourning Garments may lament her loss let never Bird sing chearfully on tops of Trees but like the mournful Musick of the Nightingale fill all the Air with fatal Tunes let bubling Rivers murmure for her loss and silver Swans that swim thereon sing doleful Melody let all the Dales belonging to these fatal Woods be covered with green bellied Serpents croaking Toads hissing Snakes and sigh-killing Cockatrices in blasted Trees let fearful Ravens shrick let Howlets cry and Crickets sing that after this it may be called a place of dead Mens wandring Ghosts But fond Wretch why do I thus Lament in vain and bath her bleeding Body with my Tears when Grief by no means will recal her Life yet this shall satisfie her Soul for I will go a Pilgrimage unto Ierusalem and offer up my Tears to Jesus Christ upon his blessed Sepulchre by which my stained Soul may be washt from this bloody Guilt which was the cause of this sorrowful day's mishap These sorrowful words were no sooner ended but he took her bleeding Limbs between his fainting Arms and gave a hundred kisses upon her dying coloured Lips retaining yet the colour of Alabaster new wash'd in Purple-blood and in this ●●ta●●e a while lying gave way to others to unfold their Woes But his Sons whose Sorrows were as great as his protested never to neglect one day but daily to weep some Tears upon their Mother's Grave till from the Earth did spring some mournful flower to beav remembrance of her Death as did the Uiolet that sp●●ng from chast Adonis's Blood where Venus wept to see him slain Likewise the other six Champions that all the time of their Lamentations stood like Men drowned in the depth of Sorrow began now a little to recover themselves and after protested by the honour of true Knight hood and by the Spu● and golden Garter of St. George's Leg to accompany him unto the Holy Land bare footed without either Horse or S●ooe only cl●●● in russet Gaberdines like the usual Pilgrims of the World and never to return till they had paid their Uows at that blessed Sepulchre Thus in this sorrowful manner wearied they the time away filling the Woods with echoes of their Lamentations and recording their Dolours to the whistling Winds but at last when black Night began to approach and with her cable Mantle to overspread the crystal Firmament they retired with her dead Body back to the City of London where the report of

smile upon their Travels for three braver Knights did never cross the Seas nor make their Adventures into strange Countries CHAP. III. How St. George 's Sons after they were Knighted by the English King travelled towards Barbary and how they redeemed the Duke's Daughter of Normandy from Ravishment that was assailed in a Wood by three Tawny-moores and also of the tragical Tale of the Virgin 's strange Miseries with other Accidents MAny days had not these three magnanimous Knights endured the danger of the swelling Waves but with a prosperous and successful Wind they arrived upon y e Tirritories of France where being no sooner safely set on shore but they bountifully rewarded their Marriners and betook themselves fully to their intended Travels Now began their costly trapped Steeds to pace it like the scudding Winds and with their wa●like Hoofs to thunder on the beaten passages now began true Honour to flourish in their princely Breasts and the Renown of their Father's Atchievements to encourage their Desires Although tender Youth sat but budbing on their Cheeks yet portly Man-hood triumpht in their Hearts and although their childish Arms as yet never tryed the painful adventures of Knight-hood yet bore they high and princely Cegitations in as great esteem as when the● Father slew the burning Dragon in Aegypt for preservation of their Mother's life Thus travelled they to the farther part of the Kingdom of France guided only by the Direction of Fortune without any Adventure worth the no●ing till at last riding thorow a mighty Fortess standing on the Borders of L●sitania they hea●d as at off as it were the ruful cries of a distressed Woman which in this manner filled the Air with ●●hees of her Moans O Heavens said she be kind and pitiful unto a Maiden in Distress and send some happy Passengers that may deliver me from these inhumane Monsters This woful and unexpected noise caused the Knights to alight from their Horses and to see the event of this Accident So after they had tyed their Steeds to the body of a Pine-tree by the R●ins of their B●●ole● they walked on foot into the thickest of the Forrest with their Weapons drawn ready to withstand any assaysment whatsoever and as they drew near to the distressed Uirgin they heard her breathe forth this pi●iful moving Lamentation the second time Come come some courteous Knight or else I must forgo that precious Jewel which all the World can never again recover These words caused them to make the more speed and to run the nearest way for the Maiden's Succour Where approaching her presence they found her tyed by the locks of her own hair to the trunk of an Orange-tree and three cruel and inhumane Negroes standing ready to dispoil her of her pure and undefiled Chastity and with their Lusts to blast the blooming Bud of her dear and unspotted Uirginity But when St. George's Sons be held her lovely Countenance besmeared in Dust that before seemed to be as beautiful as Roses in Milk and her crystal Eyes the perfect patterns of B●shfulness imbrewed in floods of Tears at one instant they ran upon the Negroes and sheathed their angry Weapons in their loathsome Bowels the Leacher● being slain their Blonds sprinkled about the Forrest and their Bodies cast out as a Prey for ravenous Beasts to feed on they unbound the Maiden and like courteous Knights demanded the cause of her Captivity and by what means she came into that solitary Forrest Most noble Knights quoth she and true renowned Men at Arms to tell the cause of my passed Misery were a prick onto my Soul for the Discourse thereof will burst my Heart with Grief but consider your Nobilities the which I do perceive by your princely Behaviour and kind Courtesies extended towards me being a Virgin in Distress under the hands of these lustful Negroes whom you have justly murthered shall so much imbolden me though unto my Heart 's great Grief to Discourse the first cause of my miserable Fortune My Father quoth she whilst gentle Fortune smiled upon him was Duke and sole Commander of the State of Normandy a Country now situated in the Kindom of France whose Lands and Revenues in his prosperity was so great that he continually kept as stately a Train both of Knights and Gentlemen as any Prince in Europe wherefore the King of France greatly envied and by bloody Wars deposed my Father from his Princely Dignity who for safeguard of his life in company of me his only Heir and Daughter betook us to these solitary Woods where ever since we have secretly remained in a poor Cell or Hermitage the which by our industrious Pains hath been Builded with plants of Vines and Oaken boughs and covered over-head with clods of Earth and turfs of ●ra●s seven Years we have continued in great Extremities sustaining our Hunger with the Fruits of Trees and quenching of our Thirst with the Dew of Heaven falling nightly upon fragrant Flowers and here instead of princely Attire imbroidered Garments and damask Vestures we have been constrained to cloath our selves with Flowers the which we have painfully woven up together here instead of Musick that wont each morning to delight our Ears we have the whilstling Winds resounding in the Woods our Clocks to tell the Minutes of the wandring Nights are Snake and Toads that sleep in roots of rotten Trees our Canopies to cover us are not wrought of Median Silk the which Indian Virgins Weave upon their silver Looms but the fable Clouds of Heaven when as the chearful day hath closed her crystal Windows up Thus in this manner continued we in this solitary Wilderness making both Birds and Beasts our chief Companions these merciless Tawny-moores whose hateful Breasts you have made to water the parched Earth with streams of Blood who as you see came into our Cell thinking to have found some store of Treasure but casting their gazing Eyes upon my Beauty they were presentl● 〈…〉 with lustfull Desires only to crop the sweet B●d of my Virginity then with furious and dismal Countenance more black than the 〈◊〉 Garments of sad Me●ponis●it when she mourn●ully writes of bloudy Frage●hes and with Hearts more cruel than was Nero 's the tyranous Roman Emperour when he beheld the Entrails of his natural Mother la●d open by his inhumane and merciless Commandment or when he stood upon the highest top of a mighty Mountain to see that famous and imperial City of Rome set on fire by the remorseless hands of his unrelen●ing Ministers that added unhallowed Flames to his unholy Furies In this kind I say these merciless and wicked minded Negroes with violent hands took my aged Father and most cruelly bound him to the blasted Body of a withered Oak standing before the entry of his Cell where neither the rever and honour of his silver Hairs glistering like the frozen Isikles upon the Northern Mountains nor the strained Sighs of his Breast wherein the Pledge of Wisdom was inthronized nor all my Tears

said she more sharp than the pricking Bryer with what inequality dost thou torment my wounded heart not linking my dear Lord in the like Affection of Mind O Venus if thou be imperious in thy Deity to whom both Gods and Men obey command my wandring Lord to return again or grant that my Soul may flie into the Clouds that by the Winds it may be blown into his sweet Bosom where now lives my bleeding heart But foolish Fondling that I am he hath rejected me and shuns my Company as the Syrens else had he not refused the Court of Egypt where he was Honoured as a King and wandred the the World to seek another Love No no it cannot be he bears no such unconstant mind and I greatly fear some Treachery hath bereaved me of his sight or else some stony Prison excludes my George from me If it be so sweet Morpheus thou God of Golden Dreams reveal to me my Love 's Abiding that in my sleep his shadow may appear and report the cause of his departure After this Passion breathed from the mansion of her Soul she committed her watchful eyes to the Government of sweet sleep which being no sooner closed but there appeared as she thought the shadow and very shape of her dearly beloved Lord St. George of England not as he was wont to be flourishing in his glittering Burgonet of Steel nor Mounted on a stately Iennet deckt with a crimson Plume of spangled Feathers but in over-worn and simple Attire with pale Looks and lean Body like to a Ghost risen from some hollow Grave breathing as it were these sad and woful Passions Sabra I am Betrayed for Love of thee And lodg'd in hollow Caves and dismal Night From whence I never more shall come to see Thy loving Countenance and Beauty bright Remain thou True and Constant for my sake That of thy Love they may no Conquest make Let Tyrants think if ever I obtain What e're is lost by Treason's cursed guile False Egypt's Scourge I surely will remain And turn to streaming blood Morocco's smile That damned Dog of Barbary shall rue The doleful S●ratagems that will ensue The Persian Towers shall smoak with fire And lofty Babylon be tumbled down The Cross of Christendom shall then aspire To wear the proud Egyptian tripple Crown Ierusalem and Iudah shall behold The fall of Kings by Christian Champians bold Thou Maid of Egypt still continue chast A Tyger seeks thy Virgins Name to spill Whilst George of England is in Prison plac'd Thou shalt be forc'd to Wed against thy will But after this shall happen Mighty things For from thy Womb shall spring three Wondrous Kings This strange and woeful spéech was no sooner ended but she awaked from her Sleep and presently reached forth her white hands thinking to imbrace him but she catched nothing but brittle Air which caused her to renew her former Complaints Oh wherefore died I not in this my troublesome Dream said the sorrowful Lady that my Ghost might have haunted those inhumane Monsters which have thus falsly betrayed the bravest Champion under the Cope of Heaven for his sake will I exclaim against the ingratitude of Egypt and like Ravished Philomel fill every corner of the Land with Ecchoes of his wrong my Woes shall exceed the Sorrows of Dido Queen of Carthage mourning for Eneas With such like Passions wearied she the time away till twelve Months were fully finished At last her Father understanding what fervent Affection she bore to the English Champion began in this manner to relate Daughter said the Egyptian King I charge thee by the bond of Nature and the true obedience thou oughtest to bear my Age to banish and exclude all fond Affections from thy mind and not thus to settle thy Love upon a wandring Knight that is unconstant and without habitation thou seest he hath forsaken thee and returned into his own Country where he hath Wedded a Wife of that Land and Nation therefore I charge thee upon my Displeasure to Affect and Love the Black King of Morocco that rightfully hath deserved thee in Marriage which shall be shortly Honourably holden to the Honour of Egypt and so he departed without any Answer at all By which Sabra knew he would not be crost in his Will and Pleasure therefore she sighed out these lamentable words O unkind Father to cross the Affection of his Child and to force Love where no Liking is Yet shall my mind continue true unto my dear beloved Lord although my Body be forced against Nature to Obey and Almidor have the Honour of my Marriage-Bed English George shall enjoy my true Uirginity if ever he return again into Egypt and thereupon she pulled forth a chain of Gold and wrapped it seven times about her Ivory Neck This said she hath been seven days steept in Tygers Blood and seven nights in Dragons Milk whereby it hath obtained such excellent Uertue that so long as I wear it about my Neck no Man on Earth can enjoy my Uirginity though I be forced to the state of Marriage and lie seven years in Wedlocks Bed yet by the vertue of this Chain I shall continue a true Uirgin Which words were no sooner ended but Almidor entred her sorrowful Chamber and presented her with a Wedding Garment which was of the purest Median Silk imbossed with Pearl and rich refined Gold perfumed with sweet Syrian Powders it was of the colour of the Lilly when Flora hath bedecked the Fields in May with Natures Ornaments Glorious and Costly were her Uestures and so stately were the Nuptial Rites Solemnized that Egypt admired the bounty of her Wedding which for seven days was holden in the Court of Ptolomy and then moved to Tripoly the chief City in Barbary where Almidor's forced Bride was Crowned Queen of Morocco at which Coronation the Conduits ran with Greekish Wines and the Streets of Tripoly were beautified with Pageants and delightful shews The Court resounded such melodious Harmony as though Apollo with his Silver Harp had descended from the Heavens such Tilts and Tournaments were performed betwixt the Egyptian Knights and the Knights of Barbary that they exceeded the Nuptials of Hecuba the beauteous Queen of Troy which honourable proceedings we leave for this time to their own contentments some Masking some Dancing some Revelling some Tilting and some Banqueting Also leaving the Champion of England Saint George mourning in the Dungeon in Persia as you heard before and return to the other Six Champions of Christendom which departed from the Brazen Pillar every one his several way whose Knightly and Noble Adventures if the Muses grant me the Bounty of fair Castalian Springs I will most amply discover the Honour of all Christendom CHAP. IV. How Saint Denis the Champion of France lived Seven years in the shape of an Hart and how proud Eglantine the King's Daughter of Thessaly was transformed into a Mulberry-Tree and how they recovered their former shapes by means of Saint Denis 's Horse CAlling