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54 THE LEGEND OF KING ARTHUR.
Thence chased I Mordered away,
Who fledd to London right, From London to Winchester, and
To Cornewalle tooke his flyght. so
And still I him pursued with speed,
Till at last wee mett; Wherby an appointed day of fight
Was there agreed and sett :
Where we did fight, of mortal life 35
Eche other to deprive, Till of a hundred thousand men
Scarce one was left alive.
There all the noble chivalrye
Of Brittaine tooke their end: *>
0 see how fickle is their state
That doe on fates depend !
There all the traiterous men were slaine,
Not one escapte away; And there dyed all my vallyant knightes, 95
Alas ! that woefull day !
Two and twenty yeere I ware the crowne
In honor and great fame, And thus by death was suddenlye
Deprived of the same. iw
92, feates, MS.