At length the knight brought me relief,
And raised me from the ground;

But neither of my pretty babes
Could ever more be found.

And, while in search we wandered far,
We met that giant grim,
Who ruthless slew my trusty knight,
And bare me off with him.

But charmed by heaven, or else my griefs,
He offered me no wrong;

Save that within these lonely walls
I've been immured so long."

"Now, surely," said the youthful knight,
"You are Lady Bellisance,
Wife to the Grecian Emperor;

Your brother's King of France.

For in your royal brother's court
Myself my breeding had ;
Where oft the story of your woes
Hath made my bosom sad.

If

So, know your accuser's dead,

And dying own'd his crime;

And long your lord hath sought you out Thro' every foreign clime.

And when no tidings he could learn
Of his much-wronged wife,

He vowed thenceforth within his court.
To lead a hermit's life."

"Now heaven is kind!" the lady said;
And dropt a joyful tear;
"Shall I once more behold my lord?
That lord I love so dear?"

"But, madam," said Sir Valentine,
And knelt upon his knee;
"Know you the cloak that wrapt your babe,
If you the same should see?"

And pulling forth the cloth of gold
In which himself was found,

The lady gave a sudden shriek,
And fainted on the ground.

But by his pious care revived,
His tale she heard anon;

And soon by other tokens found

He was indeed her son.

"But who's this hairy youth?" she said; "He much resembles thee;

The bear devoured my younger son,

Or sure that son were he."

'Madam, this youth with bears was bred,

And reared within their den.

But recollect ye any mark

To know your son again?"

"Upon his little side," quoth she, "Was stamped a bloody rose. "Here, lady, see the crimson mark Upon his body grows!"

Then clasping both her new-found sons She bathed their cheeks with tears; And soon towards her brother's court Her joyful course she steers.

What pen can paint King Pepin's joy, His sister thus restored!

And soon a messenger was sent

To cheer her drooping lord,

Who came in haste with all his peers,
To fetch her home to Greece;
Where many happy years they reigned
In perfect love and peace.

To them Sir Ursine did succeed,
And long the sceptre bare.
Sir Valentine he stayed in France,
And was his uncle's heir.

The old story-book of Valentine and Orson (which suggested the plan of this tale, but it is not strictly followed in it) was originally a translation from the French, being one of their earliest attempts at romance. See "Le Bibliothèque de Romans," &c.

The circumstance of the bridge of bells is taken from the old metrical legend of Sir Bevis, and has also been copied in the Seven Champions. The original lines are:

"Over the dyke a bridge there lay,
That man and beest might passe away:
Under the brydge were sixty belles;
Right as the Romans telles;

That there might no man passe in,

But all they rang with a gyn."

Sign. E. iv.

In the Editor's MS. was an old poem on this subject, in a wretched corrupt state, unworthy the press: from which were taken such particulars as could be adopted.

APPENDIX.

DURHAM FIELD.

PART I.

ORDINGS, listen, and hold you still;
Hearken to me a little;

I shall tell you of the fairest battle
That ever in England befell.

For as it befell in King Edward the 3rd's days, In England, where he wore the crown,

Then all the chief chivalry of England

They busked and made them bowne.

They chose all the best archers

That in England might be found,

And all was to fight with the King of France Within a little stound.

And when our King was over the water,

And on the salt sea gone,

Then tidings into Scotland came

That all England was gone.

Bows and arrows they were all forth,
At home was not left a man

But shepherds and millers both,

And priests with shaven crowns.