*King Horn is the oldest of the early English romances, composed before 1250, and is one of the two best-picturesque, animated, terse and downright. It was probably based on a lost French poem which went back to traditions and conditions of the age of the Vikings; those who are here Saracens were originally Norsemen. Primitive conditions are reflected in the absence of everything bookish, in the sea air, the free manners of the heroine, the rudimentary chivalry, the consideration shown to beggars and minstrels. A minstrel probably composed the poem, a man primitive but not crude, of delicate instinct and feeling in matters of human conduct. There is little extravagance, and almost nothing of the supernatural; prodigies of valor and good luck, of course, we must expect. The variations in the three manuscripts are more or less combined in the modern rendering. This is closer to the original than a prose version could be, and the staccato movement and the roughness of rime and rithm are those of the original.

He was brighter than the glass,

White as the lily-flower,

And red as the rose in bower;

He was wise and eke bold,
And fifteen winter old.
Upon no earthly ground
Might his like be found.
Twelve stout fellows he had,
And with him ever led,
Each a rich man's son,
And they were well-begone,
With him to come and go,
And most he loved the two;
The one hight Athulf Child,
The other Fikenild.
Athulf he loved first;
Fikenild was the worst.

t was on a summer's day,
As I tell you in my lay,
Murry the good king
Rode along galloping,
All by the sea side

Where he was wont to ride.
With him there rode but two

And they were all too few.
He found there by the strand
Come but then to his land

Black ships fifteen,

With Saracens very keen.

He asked them what they sought,

Or else to land brought.

A swart Paynim it heard

And right soon spake a word:

"Thy land-folk we shall slay

And all to Christ that pray,

And thyself right so,

Hence thou shalt never go."
He alighted from his steed,
For then sore he had need,
And his good knights two;
Of a sooth there was woe!
Swords they gan to gripe,
And together to smite,
They smote under the shield,
So that some the blow felt!
All too few he had

Against so many bad;

So many might in a breath
Bring them three to death.

The hounds went over the land,

And subdued it to their hand;

The folk they gan to quell,
And churches for to fell;
Was none that might live long,
The old nor yet the young,
If they our faith forsook not
And to the Paynims' took not.

Of all women and men

Was Godhild wofullest then.

For Murry she wept sore,
And for Horn yet more.

She went out of the hall

From among her maidens all;

Under a rock of stone
There she lived alone,
There she served Our Lord
Against the Paynims' word,
There she served Jesu Christ,
That no Paynim it wist.
She prayed for Horn Child,
That Jesu to him be mild.

orn was in Paynims' hand,

With his fellows of the land.

He was fair of limb,

For Jesu created him.

The Paynims him would slay,
Or all alive would flay,
And all his fellows there,
If he were not so fair!
Then spake an Amiral old
(Of words he was full bold),
'Horn, thou art very keen,
And now that is well seen;
Thou art great and strong,
And thy limbs fair and long.
Thou shalt wax one to fear
All within seven year.
If alive thou shouldst go,
And thy twelve fellows thereto,
If it should so befall,-
Thou wouldst slay us all.
Therefore to ship must ye,
And sink deep in the sea;
In water ye shall be dreynt
And we shall never repent.
For if thou wert in life,
With sword or else with knife
All of us thou wouldst slay,
For thy father's death to pay.'

ft had Horn been wo,

But never worse than now. They brought them to the sands, Sore wringing their hands,

And set them all on board,

When the Amiral spake the word.

The sea began to flow

And Horn Child to row.

The sea that ship so drove

That they sore dreaded thereof;
They weened so verily

To be lost deep in the sea,
All the day and the night
Till it sprang daylight,
Till Horn saw by the strand
Men walking on the land.
'Fellows young,' quoth he,
'Listen now to me.

I hear the fowls sing,
And I see the grass spring.
Be we blithe evermore,
Our ship is by the shore.'

F

rom the ship they gan to bound

And set foot on the ground.

Hard by the sea side

They let their ship ride.

Then spake Child Horn

(In Sudenne he was born):
'Ship, by the sea flood

Days have thou good:
By the sea brink

No water do thou drink.
If thou come to Sudenne
Greet thou all my kin.
Greet thou well the queen,
My mother Godhild sheen,
And to the king thou go,
Jesu Christ's Paynim foe,
Say that we be not lost,
But come safe to this coast;

And say he soon shall feel

The dint of my heel.'

The ship began to sail,

Horn Child for grief waxed pale.