Bishop Thomas Percy - The Legend of King Arthur lyrics

Of Brutus' blood, in Brittaine borne, King Arthur I am to name; Through Christendome and Heathynesse Well knowne is my worthy fame. In Jesus Christ I doe beleeve; I am a Christyan bore; The Father, Sone, and Holy Gost, One God, I doe adore. In the four hundred ninetieth yeere, Oer Brittaine I did rayne, After my Savior Christ his byrth, What time I did maintaine The fellowshipp of the Table Round, Soe famous in those dayes; Whereatt a hundred noble knights And thirty sat alwayes: Who for their deeds and martiall feates, As bookes done yett record, Amongst all other nations Wer feared through the world And in the castle of Tyntagill King Uther mee begate, Of Agyana, a bewtyous ladye, And come of hie estate. And when I was fifteen yeere old, Then was I crowned kinge: All Brittaine, that was att an upròre, I did to quiett bringe; And drove the Saxons from the realme, Who had opprest this land; All Scotland then, throughe manly feates, I conquered with my hand. Ireland, Denmarke, Norwaye, These countryes wan I all; Iseland, Gotheland, and Swetheland; And made their kings my thrall. I conquered all Gallya, That now is called France; And slew the hardye Froll in feild, My honor to advance. And the ugly gyant Dynabus, Soe terrible to vewe, That in Saint Barnards mount did lye, By force of armes I slew. And Lucyus, the emperour of Rome, I brought to deadly wracke; And a thousand more of noble knightes For feare did turne their backe. Five kinges of paynims I did k** Amidst that bloody strife; Besides the Grecian emperour, Who alsoe lost his liffe. Whose carca**e I did send to Rome, Cladd poorlye on a beere; And afterward I past Mount-Joye The next approaching yeere. Then I came to Rome, where I was mett Right as a conquerour, And by all the cardinalls solempnelye I was crowned an emperour. One winter there I made abode, Then word to mee was brought, How Mordred had oppressd the crowne, What treason he had wrought Att home in Brittaine with my queene: Therfore I came with speede To Brittaine backe, with all my power, To quitt that traiterous deede; And soone at Sandwiche I arrivde, Where Mordred me withstoode: But yett at last I landed there, With effusion of much blood. For there my nephew Sir Gawaine dyed, Being wounded in that sore The whiche Sir Launcelot in fight Had given him before. Then chased I Mordered away, Who fledd to London right, From London to Winchester, and To Cornwalle tooke his flyght. And still I him pursued with speed, Till at the last wee mett; Wherby an appointed day of fight Was there agreed and set: Where we did fight, of mortal life Eche other to deprive, Till of a hundred thousand men Scarce one was left alive. There all the noble chivalrye Of Brittaine took their end. O 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. Alas! that woefull day! Two and twenty yeere I ware the crowne In honor and great fame, And thus by d**h was suddenlye Deprived of the same.