Reliques of ancient English poetry: consisting of old heroic ballads ...

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ANCIENT SONGS
And by their blood we refcued were,
And thou haft fav'd thy life thereby;
And now in footh it is but faire,
For us thy daughter fo fhould die.
O fave my daughter, faid the king ;
And let me feel the dragon's fling.
Then fell fair Sabra on her knee,
And to her father dear did fay,
O 'father, ftrive not thus for me, 75
But let me be the dragon's prey;
It may be, for my fake alone
This plague upon the land was thrown.
Tis better I mould dye, ihe faid,
Than all your fubjefts perifh quite
Perhaps the dragon here was laid,
For my offence to work his fpite :
And after he hath fuckt my gore,
Your land mail feel the grief no more.
What haft thou done, my daughter dear, 85
For to deferve this heavy fcourge ?
It is my fault, as may appear,
Which makes the gods our ftate to purge
Then ought I die, to ftint the ftrife,
And to preferve thy happy life. 90
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