Murder Will Out

MURDER WILL OUT

Truelove, his hound so good,
Helped his master and by him stood —
Bitterly he can bite!

His good hound for weal nor woe
Would not from his master go
But lay licking his woundis,
He meant to have helped him again,
Thereto he did all his main,
Great kindness is in houndis!
He licked him till he stank,
Then he began and cunning thank
To make him a pit of stone,
And to bury him was his purpose,
And scraped on him both rind and moss,
And from him never would gone.

Seven year, so God me save,
Keeped he his master's grave,
Till that he waxed old!
Ever on his master's grave he lay,
There might no man get him away,
For ought that they could do
But if it were once on the day,
He would forth to get his prey,
And soon again he would go:
Seven year he lived there,
Till it befell against the Yule,
Upon the first day,
The hound, as the story says,
Ran to the Kingis palace
Without any more delay;
As the King at the meat was then,
Into the hall the hound can ren
Among the knightis gay;
All about he can behold,
And when he saw not that he wold,
He did him fast away;
The hound runneth ever, I wis,
Till he came there his master is,
He found not that he sought;
The King wondereth in his wede
From where he came and whither he gaed,
And who him thither brought;
He thought that he had seen him there,
But he wist not when or where.
Further then said he nought
But fast be-thinketh he him then,
For he thought he should him ken,
So sitteth he in a thought.
The tother day, on the same wise,
As the King from the board can rise,
The hound sped not thro';
All about the hall he sought,
But at that time he found him nought,
Then did he him fast to go.
Then said the King that ilk stounde
" Methinketh that was Sir Roger's hound,
That went with him thro'
When the queen was flemed out of my land."
" Sir," they said, " we understand
Forsooth that it is so!"
The King said, " What may this mean?
I trow Sir Roger and the queen
Be comen to this land,
For never since they went, I wis,
Saw I Sir Roger's hound ere this,
That is wonder tythand;
When he goeth, pursue him then,
For evermore he will ren
Till he come there his master is."
The tother day among them all
To meat as they were sat in hall,
Sir Marrock was there, fear within, I wis;
And the hound would never blin,
But ran about fast within,
Till he with him meeteth.
He start up, verament,
The steward by the throat he hent,
The hound wreaked his master's death;
The stewardis life is lorn,
There was few that rued theron,
And few for him weepeth.

The greyhound did him soon to go,
When his master's death he had 'venged so
On him that wrought him train;
All they followed him in that tide,
Some on horses and some beside,
Knightis, squires and swain.
Rest would he never have
Till he came to his master's grave,
And then turned he again;
They might not get him therefro,
He stood at 'fence against them tho',
And they would him have slain.
When they saw no better boot,
They turned again on horse and foot,
With great wonder, I ween.
They told the King all thus:
" Alas!" said King Ardus,
" What may this be to mean?
I trow Sir Marrock, by God's pain,
Have slain Sir Roger by some train,
And falsely flemed my queen!
The hound had not Sir Marrock slain,
Had not some treason been,
By dearworth God, as I ween!"
They went again, both knight and knave,
And found Sir Roger in his grave,
As whole as he was laid.

Sir Roger's corse with no delay
They buried it the other day,
With many a bold baron;
His hound would not from him away,
But ever on his grave he lay,
Till death had brought him down.
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