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There was a Sarazin stronge and wight,

That at this knight had great envye, He ran to him with all his might,

And said, Traitour, i thee defie.

They ranne together, with speres longe,

Anone the Sarazin lay on the grounde, The knight drewe out his sworde so stronge,

And smote his head of in that stounde.

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Than came twelve Sarazins in a rought,

And the knight did fore assaile, So they beset him rounde aboute,

There began a stronge bataile.

The knight kest foure unto the grounde,

With foure strokes by and by,
The other gave him many a wounde,

For ever they did multiplie.

They laide on him on every fide,

With cruell strokes, and mortall,
They gave him woundes so depe and wide,

That to the grounde downe did he fall.

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The Sarazins went, and let him lye,

With mortall woundes piteous to se, He called his page hastely,

And said, My time is come to die.

In my herte is fo depe a wounde

That i must dye without naye,
But, or thou me burye in the grounde,

Of one thinge i thee praie:

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Out of mi body to cut my herte,

And wrappe it in this yelowe here,
And, whan thou doeft from hence departe,

Unto my lady thou do it bere.

This promisfe thou me without delay,

To bere my lady this present,
And burie mi body in the crosse waie.

The page was sory aud dolent,

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The knight yelded up the gooft anone,

The page him buried as he had him bad, And towarde Faguell is he gone,

The herte, and here, with him he had..

Somtime he went, somtime he ran,

With wofull mone and fory jest, Till unto Faguell he came,

Nere to a castell in a forest,

The lorde of Faguell, without let,

Was in the forest with his meynè, With this page anone he met:

Page, he said, what tidinges with thee?

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With thi maister how is the cafe?

Shew me lightly, or thou go,
Or thou shalt never out of this place.

The page was a fearde whan he said fo.

The page for feare that he had,

The herte unto the lorde he toke tho, In his courage he was full fad,

He toke the heere to him also,

He tolde him trothe of everi thịnge,

How that the knight in bataile was Naine, 410 And how he sent his lady that thinge, .. For a speciall token of love certainę.

The lorde therof toke good hede,

And behelde the herte, that high presente ; Their love, he said, was hote in dede,

They were bothe in great torment.

Than home is he to the kechin gone:

Coke, he said, herken unto me; Dreffe me this herte, and that anone,

In the deintiest wise that may be;

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Make it swete and delycate to eate,

For it is for my lady bryght,
If that he wyst what were the meate,

Sothely her hert wolde not be lyght.

Therof fayd the lord full trewe,

That meat was doleful and mortall, So thought the lady whan Mie it knewe,

Than went the lorde into the hall.

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Anone the lorde to meate was fet,

And this lady not farre him fro, The hert anone he made be fet,

Wherof proceded muche wo.

Madame, eate hereof, he fayd,

For it is deynteous and plesaunte. The lady eate, and was not dismayde,

For of good spyce there dyd none wante.

Whan the lady had eaten wele,

Anone to her the lorde fayd there, His herte have ye eaten, every dele,

To whom you gave your yelowe here.

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Your knight is dead, as you may fe,

I tel you, lady, certaynly, His owne herte eaten have ye,

Madame, at the last we all must dye.

Whan the lady herde him fo say,

She fayd, My herte for wo shall braft; Alas, that ever i sawe this day!

Now may my lyfe no longer last.

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Up the rose, wyth hert full wo,

And streight up into her chambre wente, She confessed her devoutly tho,

And fortely receyved the facrament.

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