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Bituene ure king Asclepiod and this erl withoute faile,

Ther wer a gret worre, and that hii smite bataile ;

And the erl Cole slou then king and, tho he adde thun over bond,

King he let him crownen here of this lond.

That folc was tho of this lond y-paid wel y-nou,

That he adde y-wonne the kinedom and he the other slon.

The tydinge to Rome come, that the kyng as lawe was,

That hom adde i-don so moche ssame, bii were glad of that cas.

The noble prince hii sende hider the gode knight Costance,

That wan hom alle poer of Spaine and ek of France.

That he ssolde ek this lond winne agen to Rome,

So that this noble prince and is men hider come.

Tho the king Cole it under get, he dradde in is mod,

Vor he was so noble knight that no mon him ne withstod:
To him he sende of acord, gif it were is wille,

That he wolde to Rome abuye and lete al contek be stille;

And under bere is truage, other dude bivore,

Vor wat he hulde the kinedom wanne the truage were y-bore,
Constance it grauntede and nom is truage,

And nom also to be siker of him good ostage,

And graunted him that kingdom and that pes of Rome,

And bilevede in this lond to-gadere bothe i-some.

A monthe it was therafter that Cole wel sik lay,

And deide, as God it wolde, withinne the eightethe day."

I find also another history of King Cole in the Chronicle of Brute, MS. Harl. 4690, fol. 11, as follows: "Thenne reigned this Asclepades in pees, ffor thatt oon of his erles that hight Cole made a faire towne ayenste the kingges wille, and cleped that towne Colechester by his name; werefore the king was wrothe, and wold have destroyed the erle, and beganne to werre, and had grete strengthe, and gaff bateille to the erle: butte the erle defended him mygbtly with his power, and slowghe the king himself in the bataile; and thanne was Coel y-crowned king of this londe, and he reigned and governed the ream nobely, and was a gode man and welbeloved among the Brytonnes. Whenne thei of Rome herden that Asclepades was y-sleye, they were wonderly glad, and senten another

grete prince of the Romaynes, the whiche hete Constance, and come to the King Cole to chalenge his trewage thatt was woned to paiedd to Rome. But the king answered and said thatt resoun wolde and right, and be thei accordedenne withoute contekke, and dwelledenne togeder with ffryenschippe. And thenne the kyng gaff to this Constance his daughter Elyne to wyfe, for she was fayre and wyse, and well y-lettred; and thanne this Constance wedded ber with grete worschipp. Than anone after that, Cole dyghed in the xiii. yere of his reigne, and is entier entered atte Colchester." At Colchester there is a large earth-work, supposed to have been a Roman amphitheatre, which goes popularly by the name of "King Cole's kitchen." According to Jeffery of Monmouth, King Cole's daughter was well skilled in music, but we unfortunately have no evidence to show that her father was attached to that science, further than what is contained in the following lines, which are of doubtful antiquity. The song was very popular a century ago, and may be found in Gay's ballad opera of Achilles, printed in 1733, and other similar pieces. I may mention also that in Lewis's "History of Great Britain," fol. Lond. 1729, three kings of

Bituene ure king Asclepiod and this erl withoute faile,

Ther wer a gret worre, and that hii smite bataile ;

And the erl Cole slou then king and, tho he adde thun over hond,

King he let him crownen here of this lond.

That folc was tho of this lond y-paid wel y-nou,

That he adde y-wonne the kinedom and he the other slou.

The tydinge to Rome come, that the kyng as lawe was,

That hom adde i-don so moche ssame, bii were glad of that cas. The noble prince hii sende hider the gode knight Costance,

That wan hom alle poer of Spaine and ek of France.

That he ssolde ek this lond winne agen to Rome,

So that this noble prince and is men hider come.

Tho the king Cole it under get, he dradde in is mod,

Vor he was so noble knight that no mon him ne withstod:
To him he sende of acord, gif it were is wille,

That he wolde to Rome abuye and lete al contek be stille;
And under bere is truage, other dude bivore,

Vor wat he hulde the kinedom wanne the truage were y-bore,

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grete prince of the Romaynes, the whiche hete Constance, and come to the King Cole to chalenge his trewage thatt was woned to paiedd to Rome. But the king answeryd and seid thatt resoun wolde and right, and so thei accordedenne withoute contekke, and dwelledenne togeder with ffryenschippe. And thenne the kyng gaff to this Constance his daughter Elyne to wyfe, for she was fayre and wyse, and well y-lettred; and thanne this Constance wedded ber with grete worschipp. Than anone after that, Cole dyghed in the xiii. yere of his reigne, and is entier entered atte Colchester." At Colchester there is a large earth-work, supposed to have been a Roman amphitheatre, which goes popularly by the name of "King Cole's kitchen." According to Jeffery of Monmouth, King Cole's daughter was well skilled in music, but we unfortunately have no evidence to show that her father was attached to that science, further than what is contained in the following lines, which are of doubtful antiquity. The song was very popular a century ago, and may be found in Gay's ballad opera of Achilles, printed in 1733, and other similar pieces. I may mention also that in Lewis's "History of Great Britain," fol. Lond. 1729, three kings of Britain of the same name are mentioned.]

Old King Cole

Was a merry old soul,

And a merry

old soul was he;

He called for his pipe,

And he called for his bowl,

And he called for his fiddlers three.

Every fiddler, he had a fine fiddle,

And a very fine fiddle had he;

Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee, went the fiddlers.

Oh, there's none so rare,

As can compare

With King Cole and his fiddlers three!

II.

When good king Arthur ruled this land,

He was a goodly king;

He stole three pecks of harley-meal,
To make a bag-pudding.

A bag-pudding the king did make,
And stuff d it well with plums:
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.

The king and queen did eat thereof,

And noblemen beside;

And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried.

III.

[The following song, relating to Robin Hood, the celebrated outlaw, is well known at Worksop, in Nottinghamshire, where it constitutes one of the nursery series.]

Robin Hood, Robin Hood,

Is in the mickle wood!
Little John, Little John,
He to the town is gone.

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