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death_n day_n lord_n put_v 4,056 5 4.9852 4 false
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A08454 Here begynneth Octauyan the Emperoure of Rome; Octavyan the Emperoure of Rome. 1505 (1505) STC 18779; ESTC S110240 9,103 26

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calebre answered bolde He wyst not what it ment Syr he sayde for her sake A grete fyre I shall do make This is my Iugement Whan the fyre is brounynge fast She and her chyldren to be cast To deth for to be brente The emperoure answered full sone Thy owne doughter hath this done I holde to myne assente There was dole and grete pyte A fyre they made without the cyte With brondes brennynge bryght To the fyre they layde the lady there Two squyers her chyldren dyde bere That semely were to syght In a kyrtell of scarlet reed To the fyre they led her to be deed All redy she is dyght The kynge of calebre made euyll chere For sorowe myght not stāde his doughter nere There wepte bothe kynge and knyght The lady sawe no better reed But she must nedes be deed That daye in the felde With sory herte the sothe to tell Before the emperour on knees she fell And bothe her handes vp helde Graunt me lorde for Ihesus sake That I myght a prayer make To hym that all shall welde And than to do with me your wyll What deth that ye wyll put me tyll Therto I wyll me yelde The lady on her knees her sette And Ihesu cryst ofte she grete No wonder thoughe she was wo She sayd lorde and kynge of blysse This daye thou wylte me rede and wysshe And heuen quene also Mayde mary moder fre My prayer wyll I make to the For my chyldren two As thou lete them be borne of me Graunt that they may crystened be Or they to deth sholde go Kynges and quenes that aboute were And ladyes fell in sownynge there And knyghtes stode wepynge The emperoure stode her full nere The teres fell downe on his lere Full sory he dyde there stonde The emperour spake a worde of pyte Dame he sayd thy deth I wyll not se With herte ne with hande The emperour gaue her leue to go And toke her her chyldren two And badde her go out of the londe The emperoure gaue her forty pounde Of florences that were rede and rounde In geste as we nowe rede He commauded her knyghtes two Out of the londe her for to lede tho The two knyghtes her chyldren bare To what londe that she leuest were She was full sore aferde there The kynge frome the parlyament Euery lorde to his owne londe went And there dwelled with good entente For sorowe theyr hertes gan blede there That lady came in to a wyldernesse That full of wylde beestes was The woode was stronge and thycke The knyghtes toke the lady her chyldren two And toke her golde and bade her go As the waye laye full ryght They bade her holde the hye strete For drede with wylde beestes for to mete That moche were of myght Agayne the knyghtes wente with sory mode Alone the empresse forth yode As a wofull wyght She had so wepte here beforne That her ryght waye she had forlorne So moche she was in thought In a woode that was full thycke What for hylles and leues eke Her waye founde she nought In a sloughe vnder an hyll Sowne she founde a fayre well And an arbere redy wrought With olyue trees the arbere was sette The lady set her downe and wepte Ferther go she ne myght The lady by the well her sette With dolefull chere and heuy herte She myght no ferther gone Lorde she sayd of heuen blysse This daye thou me rede and wysshe God sende me some socoure sowne Mayde mary moder fre My prayer wyll I make to the To amende my sorefull mone I am full of sorowe and care And thre dayes I haue gone and more That mete had I none By that she had her chyldren dyhgt Forsothe it was full nere the nyght As she satte by the well In the arbere downe she laye Tyll it was lyght of the daye That foules gan synge and yell THere came an ape to seke his praye One of her chyldren he bare awaye Vp ●●●o one hye hyll No w●nder yf she were wo The ape bare her chylde her fro In swonynge downe she fell In all the sorowe that the lady in was There came rennynge a wylde lyonas That was in dede there In a sownynge as the lady laye Her other chylde she bare awaye Her dyscomforte was the more The lady was full heuy there For the wylde beestes awaye her chyldren bere For sorowe her herte gan blede To Ihesu cryste she made her mone And syghynge forth she yode There came a foule fayre of flyght A gryffon he was called hy ryght Ouer the hylles hore The foule was so moche of myght That he wolde well bere a knyght All armed yf he were The lyonesse and the chylde vp toke he And flewe in to an yle of the se Bothe with hym he bare The chylde slepte in the lyonesse mouth Of wele or wo it ne cowth But god kepe it frome care Whan the lyonesse had fote on londe Stowtely she can vp stonde As beest that was stronge and wylde Thoroughe goddes grace the gryffon she slewe And of his flesshe ete ynoughe And layde her by the chylde The chylde souked the lyones As it goddes wyll was And the pappes gan to welde The lyones gan of the chylde moche make And all for her whelpes sake She was therwith full mylde With her fote she scraped a den And brought the yonge chylde therin And kepte it daye and nyght Whan the lyones hongred sore She ete of the gryffon euermore That was so stronge and wyght And as it was goddes wyll The lyones loued the chylde full well That was so sayre and bryght The lady set her on a stone To Ihefu cryste she made her mone As a wofull wyght Ihesu cryste kynge of blysse This daye thou me rede and wysshe Of all kynges thou arte floure As I was kynges doughter and quene And empresse of Rome hath bene And of many a ryche toure Through this treason that on me is wrought To moche sorowe I am brought And out of my honoure This wordes lyfe I haue forlorne And my two chyldren frome me borne This lyfe I maye endure A lorde the sorowe that I am in well I wote it is for my synne welcome be all thy sonde To the worlde I wyll me neuer gyue But serue the lorde whyles I lyue Receyue me with thy honde Downe by a hyll the waye she founde And to the greke see she came And wente by the stronde Before her an hauen she sawe And a cyte with toures gaye The redy waye she founde whiche brought her to the towne A shyppe she founde redy bowne with pylgrymes for to fare She bad the shypmen golde and fe with that she myght therin be If that thery wyll were A bote the set vpon the flode And rowed to the londe there the lady stode A wyght man in he bare By the mast they bade her sytte Of her wo no man myght wyte But euer she wepte full sore The shypmen fayled by an yle syde The