… Back in Coventry, Sir Albert’s Lady,
overcome with extreme pain, was forced to choose between
the spoil of her infant, or an end to her life.
Placing the preservation of her child,
and benefit of her country over her own safety,
she committed her womb to be opened,
that her infant might be taken from her alive.
This most noble Lady was cast into a dead sleep,
her womb cut up with sharp knives,
and the infant taken from the bed of its creation.
Upon his breast nature had drawn the form of a dragon,
on his right hand a blood-red cross,
and on his left leg a golden garter.
He was assigned three wet nurses, who named him George.
Shortly after his nativity, the fell enchantress Kalyb,
by charms and witchcrafts, stole the infant,
George, from his careless nurses.
On Sir Albert’s return in good hope
to hear of the succesful delivery of his Lady,
and the comfort of a child,
his wished for joy was turned to sorrow.
He found his Lady dead from her dismembered womb,
and his young son abducted.
Such a woeful state banished his wits:
“O Heavens! Why cover you not the earth with everlasting night?
Why do these accursed eyes behold the sun?
O that the waves of Oceanus might end my days,
or like an outcast, give me joy in exile,
where I may warble my sorrows to the whispering woods.
What monster has stolen my child?
O that the wind would be a messenger and bring me happy news of his abode.
If he be drenched in the deepest sea, I will dive to fetch him up.
If he be hidden in the caverns of the earth, I will dig to find him.
Why do I thunder forth my loss in vain,
when neither earth nor sea, nor any thing under the sun
will grant me comfort but the recovery of my child.”
Leaving his native country, Sir Albert, wandered from place to place,
in search of his son until the hairs of his head were grown white as silver,
and the beard on his chin like the thistle-down…
He ended his days in Bohemia,
where, from age, and excessive grief, he laid himself down
under a ruined monastery wall and died.