Sir Peter Harpdon's End
79
[One sings from outside]
Therefore be it believed
Whatsoever he grieved,
Whan his horse was relieved,
This Launcelot,
Beat down on his knee,
Right valiant was he
Gods body to see,
Though he saw it not.
Right valiant to move,
But for his sad love
The high God above
Stinted his praise.
Yet so he was glad
That his soft Lord Galahad
That high joyaunce had
All his life-days.
Sing we therefore then
Launcelot's praise again,
For he wan crownés ten,
If he wan not twelve.
To his death from his birth
He was mickle of worth,
Lay him in the cold earth,
A long grave ye may delve.
Omnes homines benedicite!
This last fitte ye may see,
All men pray for me,
Who made this history
Cunning and fairly.
