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I. CHATTERTON’S LIFE AND DEATH AND THE GENESIS OF THE ROWLEY POEMS
Thomas Chatterton was born in Bristol on the 20th of November 1752. His father—also Thomas—dead three months before his son’s birth, had been a subchaunter in Bristol Cathedral and had held the mastership in a local free school. We are told that he was fond of reading and music; that he made a collection of Roman coins, and believed in magic (or so he said), studying the black art in the pages of Cornelius Agrippa. With all the self-acquired culture and learning that raised him above his class (his father and grandfathers before him for more than a hundred years had been sextons to the church of St. Mary Redcliffe) he is described as a dissipated, ‘rather brutal fellow’. Lastly, he appears to have been ‘very proud’, self-confident, and self-reliant.
Of Chatterton’s mother little need be said. Gentle and rather foolish, she was devoted to her two children Mary and, his sister’s junior by two years, Thomas the Poet. Of these Mary seems to have inherited the colourless character of her mother; but Thomas must always have been remarkable. We have the fullest accounts of his childhood, and the details that might with another be set down as chronicles of the nursery will be seen to have their importance in the case of this boy who set himself consciously to be famous when he was eight, wrote fine imaginative verse before he was thirteen, and killed himself aged seventeen and nine months.
Thomas, then, was a moody baby, a dull small boy who knew few of his letters at four; and was superannuated—such was his impenetrability to learning—at the age of five from the school of which his father had been master. He was moreover till the age of six and a half so frequently subject to long fits of abstraction and of apparently causeless crying that his mother and grandmother feared for his reason and thought him ‘an absolute fool.’ We are told also by his sister—and there is no incongruity in the two accounts—that he early displayed a taste for ’preheminence and would preside over his playmates as their master and they his hired servants.’ At seven and a half he dissipated his mother’s fear that she had borne a fool by rapidly learning to read in a great black-letter Bible; for characteristically ‘he objected to read in a small book.’ In a very short time from this he appears to have devoured eagerly the contents of every volume he could lay his hands on. He had a thirst for knowledge at large—for any kind of information, and as the merest child read with a careless voracity books of heraldry, history, astronomy, theology, and such other subjects as would repel most children, and perhaps one may say, most men. At the age of eight we hear of him reading ‘all day or as long as they would let him,’ confident that he was going to be famous, and promising his mother and sister
At ten he was making progress in arithmetic, and it should be mentioned that he ’occupied himself with mechanical pursuits so that if anything was out of order in the house he was set to mend it.’ At school he read during play hours and made few friends, but those were ‘solid fellows,’ his sister tells us; while at home he had appropriated to himself a small attic where he would read, write and draw pictures—a number of which are preserved in the British Museum—of knights and churches, and heraldic designs in red and yellow ochre, charcoal, and black-lead. In this attic too he had stored—though at what date is uncertain—a number of writings on parchment which had a rather singular history. In the muniment room of St. Mary Redcliffe, the church in which Chatterton’s ancestors had served as sextons, there were six or seven great oak chests, of which one, greater than the others and secured by no fewer than six locks, was traditionally called ‘Canynges Cofre’ after William Canynge the younger, with whose name the erection and completion of St. Mary’s were especially associated. These had contained deeds and papers dealing with parochial matters and the affairs of the Church, but some years before Chatterton’s birth the Vestry had determined to examine these documents, some of which may have been as old as the building itself. The keys had in the course of time been lost, and the vestrymen accordingly broke open the chests and removed to another place what they thought of value, leaving Canynge’s Coffer and its fellows gutted and open but by no means void of all their ancient contents. Such parchments as remained Chatterton’s father carried away, whole armfuls at a time, using some to cover his scholars’ books and giving others to his wife, who made them into thread-papers and dress patterns.
In the house to which Mrs. Chatterton had moved upon her husband’s death there was still a sufficient number of these old manuscripts to make a considerable trove for the boy who, then nine or ten years old, had first learnt to read in black-letter and was in a few years to produce poetry which should pass for fifteenth century with many well-reputed antiquaries. It was no doubt on blank pieces of these parchments
This was the beginning of the Rowley fiction—which might be metaphorically described as a motley edifice, half castle and half cathedral, to which Chatterton all his life was continually adding columns and buttresses, domes and spires, pediments and minarets, in the shape of more poems by Thomas Rowley (a secular priest of St. John’s, Bristol); or by his patron the munificent William Canynge (many times Mayor of the same city); or by Sir Thibbot Gorges, a knight of ancient family with literary tastes; or by good Bishop Carpenter (of Worcester) or John a Iscam (a Canon of St. Augustine’s Abbey, also in Bristol); together with plays or portions of plays which they wrote—a Saxon epic translated—accounts of Architecture—songs and eclogues—and friendly letters in rhyme or prose. In short, this clever imaginative lad had evolved before he was sixteen such a mass of literary and quasi-historical matter of one kind or another that his fictitious circle of men of taste and learning (living in the dark and unenlightened age of Lydgate and the other tedious post-Chaucerians) may with study become extraordinarily familiar and near to us, and was certainly to Chatterton himself quite as real and vivid as the dull actualities of Colston’s Hospital and the Bristol of his proper century.
Chatterton’s own circle of acquaintance was far less brilliant. His principal patrons were Henry Burgum and George Catcott, a pair of pewterers, the former vulgar and uneducated but very ambitious to be thought a man of good birth and education, the latter a credulous, selfish and none too scrupulous fellow, a would-be antiquary, of whom there is the most delightfully absurd description in Boswell’s Johnson. The biographer relates that in the year 1776 Johnson and he were on a visit to Bristol and were induced by Catcott to climb the steep flight of stairs which led to the muniment room in order to see the famous ‘Rowley’s Cofre’.
We hear also of Michael Clayfield, a distiller, one of the very few men in Bristol whom Chatterton admired and respected; of Baker, the poet’s bedfellow at Colston’s, for whom Chatterton wrote love poems, as Cyrano de Bergerac did for Christian de Neuvillette, to the address of a certain Miss Hoyland—thin, conventional silly stuff, but Roxane was probably not very critical; of Catcott’s brother, the Rev. A. Catcott, who had a fine library and was the author of a treatise on the Deluge; of Smith, a schoolfellow; of Palmer an engraver, and a number of others—mere names for the most part. Baker, Thistlethwaite and a few more were contemporaries of the poet, but the rest of the circle consisted mainly of men who had reached middle age—dullards, perhaps, who condescended to clever adolescence, whom Chatterton certainly mocked bitterly enough in satires which he wrote apparently for his own private satisfaction, but whom he nevertheless took considerable pains to conciliate as being men of substance who could lend books and now and then reward the Muse with five shillings. For Burgum the poet invented, and pretended to derive from numerous authorities (some of which are wholly imaginary), a magnificent pedigree showing him descended from a Simon de Seyncte Lyse alias Senliz Earl of Northampton who had come over with the Conqueror. To this he appended a portion of a poem not included in this edition, entitled the ‘Romaunte of the Cnyghte’, composed by John de Bergham about A.D. 1320. It was some years before Mr. Burgum applied to the College of Heralds to have his pedigree ratified, but when he did so he was informed that there had never been a de Bergham entitled to bear arms.
With a second instalment of the genealogical table were copies of the poems called The Tournament and The Gouler’s (i.e. Usurer’s) Requiem, which are printed in this volume. Mr. Burgum was completely taken in, and, exulting in his new-found dignity, acknowledged the announcement of his splendid birth with a present of five shillings. It is worthy of notice that the pedigree made mention of a certain Radcliffe Chatterton de Chatterton, but Burgum’s suspicions were not aroused by the circumstance.
In July 1765, that is to say when the boy was aged about 13, the authorities of Colston’s Hospital apprenticed him to John Lambert, a Bristol attorney. He had chosen the calling himself, but it was not long before the life became intolerable to him. It was arranged that he should board with Lambert, and the attorney made him share a bedroom with the foot-boy and eat his meals in the kitchen. Further, though his sister has recorded that the work was light, the practice being inconsiderable, Lambert always tore up any writing of Chatterton’s that he could find if it did not relate to his business. ‘Your stuff!’ he would say. Nevertheless he admitted that his apprentice was always to be found at his desk, for he often sent the footman in to see. And no doubt on some of these occasions Chatterton was copying the legal precedents of which 370 folio pages, neatly written in a well-formed handwriting, remain to this day as evidence of legitimate industry. At other times he was certainly composing poems by Rowley.
Perhaps at this point it would be well to give some account of Chatterton’s method in the production of ancient writings. First it seems he wrote the matter in the ordinary English of his day. Then he would with the help of an English-Rowley and Rowley-English Dictionary (which he had laboriously compiled for himself out of the vocabulary to Speght’s Chaucer, Bailey’s Universal Etymological Dictionary, and Kersey’s Dictionarium Anglo-Britannicum) translate the work into what he probably thought was a very fair imitation of fifteenth century language. His spelling Professor Skeat characterizes as ’that debased kind which prevails in Chevy Chase and the Battle of Otterbourn in Percy’s Reliques, only a little more disguised.’ Percy’s Reliques were not published till 1765, but it is natural to suppose that Chatterton when he was ’wildly squandering all he got On books and learning and the Lord knows what,’ and thereby involving himself in some little debt, would have bought the volume very soon after its publication. Finally as to the production of ‘an original’. We have two accounts; one of which represents the pseudo-Rowley rubbing a parchment upon a dirty floor after smearing it with ochre and saying ‘that was the way to antiquate it’; the other, even more explicit, is the testimony of a local chemist, one Rudhall, who was for some time a close friend of Chatterton’s. The incident in which Rudhall appears is worth relating at length.
In the month of September 1768 an event of some importance occurred at Bristol—a new bridge that had been built across the Avon to supersede a structure dating from the reign of the second Henry being formally thrown open for traffic. At the time when this was the general talk of the city Chatterton had left with the editor of Felix Farley’s Bristol Journal a description of the ’Fryars passing over the Old Bridge taken from an ancient manuscript.’
Yet it seemed obvious that the antiquaries would demand to see the manuscript, and Chatterton, contrary to his usual practice of secrecy, called upon his friend Rudhall and, having made him promise to tell nothing of what he should show him, took a piece of parchment ‘about the size of a half sheet of foolscap paper,’ wrote on it in a character which the other did not understand, for it was ’totally unlike English,’ and finally held what he had written over a candle to give it the ‘appearance of antiquity,’ which it did by changing the colour of the ink and making the parchment appear ’black and a little contracted.’ Rudhall, who kept his secret till 1779 (when he bartered it for L10, to be given to the poet’s mother, at that time in great poverty), believed that no one was shown or asked to see this document. Why, it is impossible to say.
The present volume contains a reproduction[2] in black and white of the original MS. of Chatterton’s ‘Accounte of W. Canynges Feast’. This was written in red ink. The parchment is stained with brown, except one corner, and the first line written in a legal texting hand. The ageing of his manuscript of the Vita Burtoni, to take a further instance, was effected by smearing the middle of it with glue or varnish. This document was also written partly in an attorney’s regular engrossing[3] hand. During the next four years Chatterton ‘transcribed’ a great quantity of ancient documents, including AElla, a Tragycal Enterlude—far the finest of the longer Rowleian poems—the Songe to AElla and The Bristowe Tragedy (the authorship of
With his acknowledged work, as with Rowley, Chatterton by dint of continued application was making good progress. In 1769 he had become a frequent contributor to the Town and Country Magazine, to which he sent articles on heraldry, imitations of Ossian (whom he very much admired) and various other papers; and in December of this year he wrote to Dodsley, the well-known publisher, acquainting him that he could ’procure copies of several ancient poems and an interlude, perhaps the oldest dramatic piece extant, wrote by one Rowley, a Priest in Bristol, who lived in the reign of Henry the Sixth and Edward the Fourth * * * If these pieces would be of any service to Mr. Dodsley copies should be sent.’ The publisher returned no answer. Chatterton waited two months, then wrote again and enclosed a specimen passage from AElla. He could procure a copy of this work, he wrote, upon payment of a guinea to the present owner of the MS. Again Mr. Dodsley lay low and said nothing, and so the incident closed.
Dodsley having failed him, Chatterton next took the bolder step of writing to Horace Walpole, who must have been much in his mind for some years before his sending the letter. Some one has made the ingenious suggestion that a consideration of Walpole’s delicate connoisseurship sensibly coloured Chatterton’s account of the life of Mastre William Canynge. More than this, his delight in the Mediaeval—the Gothic—and his content with what may be termed a purely impressionistic view of the past, was singularly akin to the Bristol poet’s own outlook on these matters. Walpole had further some three years before this time indulged in the very harmless literary fraud of publishing his Castle of Otranto as a translation from a mediaeval Italian MS., only confessing his own authorship upon the publication of the second edition. To Walpole then Chatterton addressed a short letter enclosing some verses by John a Iscam and a manuscript on the Ryse of Peyncteyning yn Englande wroten by T. Rowleie 1469 for Mastre Canynge[5] with the suggestion that it might be of service to Mr. Walpole ’in any future edition of his truly entertaining anecdotes of painting.’ This drew from the connoisseur one of the politest letters[6] that have been written in English, in which the simple and elegant sentences expressed with a very charming courtesy the interest and curiosity of its author. He gave his correspondent ‘a thousand thanks’; ‘he would not be sorry to print’ (at his private press) ‘some of Rowley’s poems’; and added—which reads strangely in the light of what follows—’I would by no means borrow and detain your MS.’ Now Chatterton’s Peyncteyning yn Englande is the clumsiest fraud of all the Rowley compositions, with the single exception of a letter from the secular Priest which exhibits the exact style and language of de Foe’s Robinson Crusoe.[7] Professor Skeat has pointed out that the Anglo-Saxon words, which occur with tolerable frequency in the Ryse, begin almost without exception with the letter A, and concludes that Chatterton had read in an old English glossary, probably Somners, no farther than Ah. Walpole however ’had not the happiness of understanding the Saxon language,’ and it was not until after he had received a second letter from Chatterton, enclosing more Rowleian matter both prose and verse, that he consulted his friends Gray and Mason, who at once detected the forgery. If, as seems certain, Elinoure and Juga was among the pieces sent, it was inevitable that Gray should recognize lines 22-25 of that poem as a striking if unconscious reminiscence of his own Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Now Walpole had some years before introduced Ossian’s poems to the world and his reputation as a critic had suffered when their authenticity was generally disputed. Accordingly he wrote Chatterton a stiff letter suggesting that ’when he should have made a fortune he might unbend himself with the studies consonant to
We now come to the circumstance which procured Chatterton’s release from his irksome apprenticeship—his threat of suicide. He had often been heard to speak approvingly of suicide, and there is a story, which has, however, little authority, that once in a company of friends he drew a pistol from his pocket, put it to his head, and exclaimed ‘Now if one had but the courage to pull the trigger!’ This anecdote—if not in fact true—illustrates very well the gloomy depression of spirit which alternated with those outbursts of feverish energy in which his poems were composed. And he had much to make him miserable when with a change of mood he lost his buoyancy and confidence of ultimate fame and success. His ambition was boundless and his audience was as limited in numbers as in understanding. He was as proud as the poor Spaniard who on a bitter day rejected the friendly offer of a cloak with the words ’A gentleman does not feel the cold,’ and his pride was continually fretted. He was keenly conscious of the indignity of his position in Lambert’s kitchen; he seems to have been pressed for money, and though he ’did not owe five pounds altogether’ he probably smarted under the thought that all his hard work, all the long nights of study and composition in the moonlight which helped his thought, could not earn him even this comparatively small sum. Again, he was not restrained from a contemplation of suicide by any scruples of religion—for he has left
His letters show that he called upon four editors the very day he arrived. These were Edmunds of the Middlesex Journal; Fell of the Freeholders Magazine; Hamilton of the Town and Country Magazine; and Dodsley—the same to whom he had sent a portion of AElla—of the Annual Register. He had received, he wrote, ’great encouragement from them all’; ’all approved of his design; he should soon be settled.’ Fell told him later that the great and notorious Wilkes ’affirmed that his writings could not be the work of a youth and expressed a desire to know the author.’ This may or may not have been true, but it is certain that Fell was not the only newspaper proprietor who was ready to exchange a little cheap flattery for articles by Chatterton that would never be paid for.[10]
We know very little about Chatterton’s life in London—but that little presents some extraordinarily vivid pictures. He lodged at first with an aunt, Mrs. Ballance, in Shoreditch, where he refused to allow his room to be swept, as he said ‘poets hated brooms.’ He objected to being called Tommy, and asked his aunt ’If she had ever heard of a poet’s being called Tommy’ (you see he was still a boy). ’But she assured him that she knew nothing about poets and only wished he would not set up for being a gentleman.’ He had the appearance of being much older than he was, (though one who knew him when he was at Colston’s Hospital described him as having light curly hair and a face round as an apple; his eyes were grey and sparkled when he was interested or moved). He was ’very much himself—an admirably expressive phrase. He had the same fits of absentmindedness which characterized him as a child. ’He would often look stedfastly in a person’s face without speaking or seeming to see the person for a quarter of an hour or more till it was quite frightful.’ We have accounts of his sitting up writing nearly the whole of the night, and his cousin was almost afraid to share a room with him ’for to be sure he was a spirit and never slept.’[11]
He wrote political letters in the style of Junius—generally signing them Decimus or Probus—that kind of vague libellous ranting which will always serve to voice the discontent of the inarticulate. He wrote essays—moral, antiquarian, or burlesque; he furbished up his old satires on the worthies of Bristol; he wrote songs and a comic opera, and was miserably paid when he was paid at all. None of his work written in these veins has any value as literature; but the skill with which this mere lad not eighteen years old gauged the taste of the town and imitated all branches of popular literature would probably have no parallel in the history of journalism should such a history ever come to be written.
His letters to his mother and sister were always gay and contained glowing accounts of his progress; but in reality he must have been miserably poor and ill-fed.
In July he changed his lodgings to the house of a Mrs. Angel, a sacque maker in Brook Street, Holborn; the dead season of August was coming on and probably he wanted to conceal his growing embarrassment from his aunt, who might have sent word of it to his mother at Bristol.
His opera was accepted—it is a spirited and well written piece—and for this he was paid five pounds, which enabled him to send a box of presents to his mother and sister bought with money he had earned. He had dreamed of this since he was eight. But his Balade of Charitie—the most finished of all the Rowley poems—was refused by the Town and Country Magazine about a month before the end; which came on August 24th. He was starving and still too proud to accept the invitations of his landlady and of a friendly chemist to take various meals with them. He was offended
Accordingly on Friday the 24th August 1770 he tore up his manuscripts, locked his door, and poisoned himself with arsenic.
Southey, Byron, and others have supposed that Chatterton was mad; it has been suggested that he was the victim of a suicidal mania. All the evidence that there is goes to show that he was not. He was very far-sighted, shrewd, hard-working, and practical, for all his imaginative dreaming of a non-existent past; and this at least may be said, that Chatterton’s suicide was the logical end to a very remarkably consistent life.
Chatterton’s character has suffered a good deal from three accusations vehemently urged by Maitland and his eighteenth-century predecessors. The first is that the boy was a ‘forger’; the second that he was a freethinker; the third that he was a free-liver.
To examine these in turn: the first admits of no denial as a question of fact, but justification may be pleaded which some will accept as a complete exculpation and others perhaps will hardly comprehend.
Chatterton could only produce poetry in his fifteenth-century vein; his imagination failed him in modern English. No one who has any appreciation of Rowley’s poems will consider that the African Eclogues are for a moment comparable with them. If he was to write at all he must produce antiques, and, as it happened, interest had been aroused in ancient poetry, largely by the publication of Percy’s Reliques and of the spurious Ossian. Appearing at this juncture, then, as ancient writings taken from an old chest, his poems would be read and their value appreciated; while no one would trouble to make out the professed imitations—not by any means easy reading—of an attorney’s apprentice. Probably if an adequate audience had been secured in his lifetime, Chatterton would have revealed the secret when it had served its purpose—just as Walpole confessed to the authorship of Otranto only when that book had run into a second edition.
To the second count of the indictment no defence is urged. Chatterton was too honest and too intelligent to accept traditional dogmatics without examination.
Finally, he was no free-liver in the sense in which that objectionable expression is used. Rather he was an ascetic who studied and wrote poetry half through the night, who ate as little as he slept, and would make his dinner off ‘a tart and a glass of water.’ He was devoted to his mother and sister and to his poetry; and what spare time was not occupied with the latter he seems to have spent largely with the former. The attempt to represent him as a sort of provincial Don Juan—though in the precocious licence of a few of his acknowledged writings he has even given it some colour himself—cannot be reconciled with the recorded facts of his life.
Equally ill judged is that picture which is presented by Professor Masson and other writers less important—of a truant schoolboy, a pathetic figure, who had petulantly cast away from him the consolations of religion. Monsieur Callet, his French biographer, knew better than this: ‘Il fallait l’admirer, lui, non le plaindre,’ is the last word on Chatterton.
[Footnote 1: An extraordinary production for a boy of twelve, but we need not suppose that if ‘Elenoure and Juga’ were written in 1764 and not published until 1769 no alterations and improvements were made by its author in the period between these dates.]
[Footnote 2: From the engraving in Tyrwhitt’s edition.]
[Footnote 3: See Southey and Cottle’s edition, quoted in Skeat, ii, p. 123.]
[Footnote 4: Dean Milles has a delightful account of the reception accorded to Rowley in the Chatterton household. Neither mother nor sister would appear to have understood a line of the poems, but Mary Chatterton (afterwards Mrs. Newton) remembered she had been particularly wearied with a ‘Battle of Hastings’ of which her brother would continually and enthusiastically recite portions.]
[Footnote 5: Wilson believed that Chatterton never sent the Ryse, &c., at all (see page 173 of his Chatterton: A Biographical Study), but this is disposed of by the fact that the Ryse of Peyncteyning is the only piece of Chatterton’s which contains Saxon words.]
[Footnote 6: March 28th, 1769.]
[Footnote 7: An account of Master William Canynge written by Thos. Rowlie Priest in 1460. Skeat, Vol. III, p. 219; W. Southey’s edition, Vol. III, p. 75. See especially the last paragraph.]
[Footnote 8: See Letters of Horace Walpole, edited by Mrs. Paget Toynbee (Clarendon Press), Vol. XIV, pp. 210, 229; Vol. XV, p. 123.]
[Footnote 9: But attorneys are seldom ‘in regrate’ with the friends of Poetry.]
[Footnote 10: Masson’s reconstruction of the scene between Chatterton and the editor of the Freeholder’s Magazine is very convincing (see his Chatterton: a Biography, p. 160).]
[Footnote 11: Almost everything that we know of Chatterton in London was ascertained by Sir H. Croft and printed in his Love and Madness (see Bibliography).]
As imitations of fifteenth-century composition it must be confessed the Rowley poems have very little value. Of Chatterton’s method of antiquating something has already been said. He made himself an antique lexicon out of the glossary to Speght’s Chaucer, and such words as were marked with a capital O, standing for ‘obsolete’ in the Dictionaries of Kersey and Bailey. Now even had his authorities been well informed, which they were not by any means, and had Chatterton never misread or misunderstood them, which he very frequently did, it was impossible that his work should have been anything better than a mosaic of curious old words of every period and any dialect. Old English, Middle English, and Elizabethan English, South of England folk-words or Scots phrases taken from the border ballads—all were grist for Rowley’s mill. It is only fair to say that he seldom invented a word outright, but he altered and modified with a free hand. Professor Skeat indeed estimates that of the words contained in Milles’ Glossary to the Rowley Poems only seven percent are genuine old words correctly used. The Professor in his modernized edition is continually pointing out with kindly reluctance that such and such a word never bore the meaning ascribed to it—that because, for instance, Bailey had explained Teres major as a smooth muscle of the arm it was not therefore any legitimate inference of Chatterton’s that tere (singular form) meant a muscle and could be translated ‘health’. Only occasionally does one find the note (written with an obviously sincere pleasure) ‘This word is correctly used.’ Of course it was impossible that Chatterton should have produced even a colourable imitation of fifteenth-century poetry at a time when even Malone—for all his acknowledged reputation as an English Scholar—could not quote Chaucer so as to make his lines scan. The Rowley Poems and Percy’s Reliques mark the beginning of that renascence of our older poetry so conspicuous in the time of Lamb and Hazlitt. Before this epoch was the Augustan age, much too well satisfied with its own literature to concern itself with an unfashionable past.
But, after all, however absurd from any historical point of view the language and metres of the boy-poet may be, at least he invented a practicable language which admirably conveyed his impression of the latest period of the middle ages—that after-glow which began with the death of Chaucer. Chatterton’s poetry is a pageant staged by an impressionist. It cannot be submitted to a close examination, and it is all wrong historically, yet it presents a complete picture with an artistic charm that must be judged on its own merits. An illusion is successfully conveyed of a dim remote age when an idle-strenuous people lived only to be picturesque, to kill one another in tourneys, to rear with painful labour beautiful
As onn a hylle one eve fittynge
At oure Ladie’s Chyrche mouche wonderynge
embodies this truism fit for a bread-platter—or to be the ’Posy of a ring’—’Do your best.’
Canynges and Gaunts culde doe ne moe.
And the poet’s boyishness demands still further consideration. He has a crude violence of expression which is apt to shock the mature person—some of the descriptions of wounds in the two Battles of Hastings would sicken a butcher; while in another vein such a phrase as
Hee thoughte ytt proper for to cheese
a wyfe,
And use the sexes for the purpose gevene.
(Storie of William Canynge)
has an absurd affectation of straightforward good sense divested of sentiment which could not appeal to any one on a higher plane of civilization than a medical student.
And this is easily explicable if only it is borne in mind that the Rowley poems were written by a boy, and that such lovely things as the Dirge in AElla suggest a maturity that Chatterton did not by any means perfectly possess. In some respects he was as childish (to use the word in no contemptuous sense) as in others he was precocious. And it is a thousand pities that the difficulties of Chatterton’s language and the peculiar charm and invention of his metrical technique cannot be appreciated till the boyish love of adventure, delight in imagined bloodshed, and ignorance of sentimental love, have generally been left behind. Nothing—to give an example—could be more frigid than the description of Kennewalcha—
White as the chaulkie clyffes of Brittaines
isle,
Red as the highest colour’d Gallic
wine
(an unthinkable study in burgundy and whitewash, Battle of Hastings, II, 401); nothing, on the other hand, more vivid, more obviously written with a pen that shook with excitement, than
The Sarasen lokes owte: he doethe feere, &c. (Eclogue the Second, 23.)
Soe wylle wee beere the Dacyanne armie
downe,
And throughe a storme of blodde wyll reache
the champyon crowne.
(AElla, 631.)
Loverdes, how doughtilie the tylterrs joyne! (Tournament, 92.).
In fine, there is no poet, one may boldly declare, whose pages are so filled with battle, murder and sudden death, as Chatterton’s are; and this is perhaps the clearest indication he gives of immaturity.
But if his ideas were sometimes crude and boyish they were not by any means always so; he has flashes of genius, sudden beauties that take away the breath. A better example than this of what is called the sublime could not be found:
See! the whyte moone sheenes onne hie;
Whyterre ys mie true loves shroude;
Whyterre yanne the mornynge skie,
Whyterre yanne the evenynge cloude.
(AElla, 872.)
and, from the Songe bie a Manne and Womanne,
I heare them from eche grene wode tree,
Chauntynge owte so blatauntlie,
Tellynge lecturnyes to mee,
Myscheefe ys whanne you are nygh.
(AElla, 107.)
Did ever shepherd’s pipe play a
prettier tune?
He has some fine martial sounds,
as for instance:
Howel
ap Jevah came from Matraval
(Battle of Hastings, I, 181.)
He rarely employs personifications, but no poet used the figure more convincingly. The third Mynstrelle’s description of Autumn is a lovely thing, and one will not easily forget his Winter’s frozen blue eyes—though unfortunately that is not in Rowley.
His art was essentially dramatic, and he has some fine dramatic moments, as for example when the Usurer soliloquizing miserably on his certain ultimate damnation suddenly cries out
O storthe unto mie mynde! I goe to helle.
(Gouler’s Requiem.)
The word ‘storthe’ is a good example of Chatterton’s use of strange words. The effect of a sudden outcry which it produces would be lost in a modernized version which rendered it ‘death’.
Mr. Watts-Dunton in his article on Chatterton in Ward’s English Poets speaks of his extraordinary metrical inventiveness and of his ultimate responsibility for such lines as these—
And Christabel saw the lady’s eye
And nothing else she saw thereby
Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline
tall
Which hung in a murky old niche in the
wall—
the anapaestic dance of which breaks in upon the normal iambic movement of the poem with a natural dramatic propriety. He compares too The Eve of St. Agnes with the Excelente Balade of Charitie, remarking that it was only in his latest work that Keats attained to that dramatic objectivity which was ’the very core and centre of Chatterton’s genius.’
Another writer, Mr. Thomas Seccombe, speaks of his ’genuine lyric fire, a poetic energy, and above all an intensity remote from his contemporaries and suggestive (as Cimabue in his antique and primitive manner is suggestive of Giotto and Angelico) of Shelley and Keats.’
Chatterton’s influence on the great body of poets of the generation succeeding his own was very considerable—Mr. Watts-Dunton indeed declares him to have been the father of the New Romantic School—and the affection with which Keats, Coleridge, Wordsworth and many others regarded him was extraordinary. He was their pioneer, who had lost his life in a heroic attempt to penetrate the dull crassness of the mid-eighteenth century.
He had great originality and the gift of an intense imagination. If he is sometimes crude and immature in thought and expression—if his images sometimes weary by their monotony—it is accepted that a poet is to be judged by his highest and not his lowest; and Chatterton’s best work has an inspiration, a singular and unique charm both of thought and of music that is of the first order of English poetry.
A great deal more has been written about Chatterton than it is worth anybody’s while to read. To begin with, there are all the volumes and pamphlets concerning themselves with the question whether the Rowley poems were written by Chatterton or by Rowley, or by both (Chatterton adding matter of his own to existing poems written in the fifteenth century), or by neither. It may be said that these problems were not conclusively and finally solved till Professor Skeat brought out his edition of Chatterton in 1871.
Then again there are the various lives of the poet; for the most part mere random aggregations of such facts, true or imagined, as fell in the editor’s way, filled out with pulpit commonplaces and easy paragraphs beginning ‘But it is ever the way of Genius ...’ Professor Wilson’s Chatterton: a Biographical Study is as final in its own way as Professor Skeat’s two volumes. It is a scholarly compilation of all previous accounts, very well digested and arranged. Moreover, the Professor has for the most part left the facts to tell their own story; and thus his book is free from such absurdities as the sentimental regrets of Gregory and Professor Masson that Chatterton was led into a course of folly ending in suicide through being deprived of a father’s care. Such a father as Chatterton’s was!
While premising that any one who wishes to learn the facts of the boy-poet’s life—his circumstances and surroundings—can find them all set forth in Professor Wilson’s book: while equally if he is interested in the pseudo-Rowley’s language, philologically considered, he will find this elaborately examined in Professor Skeat’s second volume; it has been thought that the following bibliography of books dealing with various aspects of the poet which were read and valued in their day may be found of interest to students of literary history.
1598. Speght’s edition of Chaucer, the glossary of which Chatterton used in the compilation of his Rowley Dictionary.
1708. Kersey’s Dictionarium Anglo-Britannicum, and
1737. Bailey’s Universal Etymological Dictionary. (8th Enlarged Edition.) Bailey is largely copied from Kersey, but Chatterton certainly used both dictionaries in making his antique language.
1777. Tyrwhitt’s edition of the Rowley poems. Tyrwhitt was Chatterton’s first editor and in his edition many of the poems were printed for the first time. ’The only really good edition is Tyrwhitt’s.’ ’This exhibits a careful and, I believe, extremely accurate text ... an excellent account of the MSS. and transcripts from which it was derived. It is a fortunate circumstance that the first editor was so thoroughly competent.’ (Professor Skeat, Introd. to Vol. II of his 1871 edition.)
1778. Tyrwhitt’s third edition, from which the present edition is printed. With this was printed for the first time ’An appendix ... tending to prove that the Rowley poems were written not by any ancient author but entirely by Thomas Chatterton.’ This edition follows the first nearly page for page; but was reset.
1780. Love and Madness by Sir Herbert Croft. This strange book deserves a brief description as it is the source of almost all our knowledge of Chatterton.
A certain Captain Hackman, violently in love with a Miss Reay, mistress of the Earl of Sandwich, and stung to madness by his jealousy and the hopelessness of his position, had in 1779 shot her in the Covent Garden Opera House and afterwards unsuccessfully attempted to shoot himself. Enormous public interest was excited, and Croft—baronet, parson, and literary adventurer—got hold of copies which Hackman had kept of some letters he had sent to the charming Miss Reay. These he published as a sensational topical novel in epistolary form, calling it Love and Madness. This is quite worth reading for its own sake, but much more so for its 49th letter, which purports to have been written by Hackman to satisfy Miss Reay’s curiosity about Chatterton. As a matter of fact Croft, who had been very interested in the boy-poet and had collected from his relations and those with whom he had lodged in London all they could possibly tell him, wrote the letter himself and included it rather inartistically among the genuine Hackman-Reay correspondence. Amongst other valuable matter, this letter 49 contains a long account of her brother by Mary Chatterton.—(See Love letters of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay, 1775-79, introduction by Gilbert Burgess: Heinemann, 1895.) 1774-81. Warton’s History of English Poetry, in Volume II of which there is an account of Chatterton.
1781. Jacob Bryant’s Observations upon the Poems of T. Rowley in which the authenticity of those poems is ascertained. Bryant was a strong Pro-Rowleian and argues cleverly against the possibility of Chatterton’s having written the poems. He shows that Chatterton in his notes often misses Rowley’s meaning and insists that he neglected to explain obvious difficulties because he could not understand them. Bryant is the least absurd of the Pro-Rowleians.
1782. Dean Milles’ edition of the Rowley poems—a splendid quarto with a running commentary attempting to vindicate Rowley’s authenticity. Milles was President of the Society of Antiquaries and his commentary is characterized by Professor Skeat as ’perhaps the most surprising trash in the way of notes that was ever penned.
1782. Mathias’ Essay on the Evidence ... relating to the poems called Rowley’s—he is pro-Rowleian and criticizes Tyrwhitt’s appendix.
1782. Thomas Warton’s Enquiry ... into the Poems attributed to Thomas Rowley—Anti-Rowleian.
1782. Tyrwhitt’s Vindication of his Appendix. Tyrwhitt had discovered Chatterton’s use of Bailey’s Dictionary and completely refutes Bryant, Milles, and Mathias. It may be observed in passing that though Goldsmith upheld Rowley, Dr. Johnson, the two Wartons, Steevens, Percy, Dr. Farmer, and Sir H. Croft pronounced unhesitatingly in favour of the poems having been written by Chatterton: while Malone in a mocking anti-Rowleian pamphlet shows that the similes from Homer in the Battle of Hastings and elsewhere have often borrowed their rhymes from Pope!
1798. Miscellanies in Prose and Verse by Edward Gardner (two volumes). At the end of Volume II there is a short account of the Rowley controversy and, what is more important, the statement that Gardner had seen Chatterton antiquate a parchment and had heard him say that a person who had studied antiquities could with the aid of certain books (among them Bailey) ’copy the style of our elder poets so exactly that the most skilful observer should not be able to detect him. “No,” said he, “not Mr. Walpole himself."’ But perhaps this should be taken cum grano.
1803. Southey and Cottle’s edition in three volumes with an account of Chatterton by Dr. Gregory which had previously been published as an independent book. Southey and Cottle’s edition is very compendious so far as matter goes, and contains much that is printed for the first time. Gregory’s life is inaccurate but very pleasantly written.
1837. Dix’s life of Chatterton, with a frontispiece portrait of Chatterton aged 12 which was for a long time believed to be authentic. No genuine portrait of Chatterton is known to be in existence; probably none was ever made. Dix’s life, not a remarkable work in itself, has some interesting appendices; one of which contains a story—extraordinary enough but well supported—that Chatterton’s body, which had received a pauper’s burial in London, was secretly reburied in St. Mary’s churchyard by his uncle the Sexton.
1842. Willcox’s edition printed at Cambridge; on the whole a slovenly piece of work with a villainously written introduction.
1854. George Pryce’s Memorials of Canynges Family; which contains some notes of the coroner’s inquest on Chatterton’s body, which would have been most interesting if authentic, but were in fact forged by one Gutch.
1856. Chatterton: a biography by Professor Masson—published originally in a volume of collected essays; re-published and in part re-written as an independent volume in 1899. The Professor reconstructs scenes in which Chatterton played a part; but it is suggested (with diffidence) that his treatment is too sentimental, and the boy-poet is Georgy-porgied in a way that would have driven him out of his senses, if he could have foreseen it. The picture is fundamentally false.
1857. An Essay on Chatterton by S.R. Maitland, D.D., F.R.S., and F.S.A. A very monument of ignorant perversity. The writer shamelessly distorts facts to show that Chatterton was an utterly profligate blackguard and declares finally that neither Rowley nor Chatterton wrote the poems.
1869. Professor D. Wilson’s Chatterton: a Biographical Study, and
1871. Professor W.W. Skeat’s Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton (in modernized English) of which mention has been made above.
1898. A beautifully printed edition of the Rowley poems with decorated borders, edited by Robert Steele. (Ballantyne Press.)
1905 and 1909. The works of Chatterton, with the Rowley poems in modernized English, edited with a brief introduction by Sidney Lee.
1910. The True Chatterton—a new study from original documents by John H. Ingram. (Fisher Unwin.)
Besides all these serious presentations of Chatterton there are a number of burlesques—such as Rowley and Chatterton in the Shades (1782) and An Archaeological Epistle to Jeremiah Milles (1782), which are clever and amusing, and three plays, two in English, and one in French by Alfred de Vigny, which represents the love affair of Chatterton and an apocryphal Mme. Kitty Bell.
The whole of Chatterton’s writings—Rowley, acknowledged poems, and private letters, have been translated into French prose. Oeuvres completes de Thomas Chatterton traduites par Javelin Pagnon, precedees d’une Vie de Chatterton par A. Callet (1839). Callet’s treatment of Chatterton is very sympathetic and interesting.
Finally for further works on Chatterton the reader is referred to Bohn’s Edition of Lowndes’ Bibliographer’s Manual—but the most important have been enumerated above.
This edition is a reprint of Tyrwhitt’s third (1778) edition, which it follows page for page (except the glossary; see note on p. 291). The reference numbers in text and glossary, which are often wrong in 1778, have been corrected; line-numbers have been corrected when wrong, and added to one or two poems which are without them in 1778, and the text has been collated throughout with that of 1777 and corrected from it in many places where the 1778 printer was at fault. These corrections have been made silently; all other corrections and additions are indicated by footnotes enclosed in square brackets.
1. The Tournament, lines 7-10.
Wythe straunge depyctures, Nature maie nott yeelde, &c.
‘This is neither sense nor grammar as it stands’ says Professor Skeat. But Chatterton is frequently ungrammatical, and the sense of the passage is quite clear if either of the two following possible meanings is attributed to unryghte.
(1)=to present an intelligible significance otherwise than by writing—as ‘rebus’d shields’ do (un-write);
or (2) = to misrepresent (un-right).
With pictures of strange beasts that have no counterpart in Nature and appear to be purely fantastic (’unseemly to all order’) yet none the less make known to men good at guessing riddles (’who thyncke and have a spryte’) what the strange heraldic forms express-without-use-of-written-words (’unryghte’)—or (taking the second meaning of unryghte—misrepresent) present-with-a-disregard-of-truth-to-nature.
2. Letter to the Dygne Mastre Canynge, line 15.
Seldomm, or never, are armes vyrtues mede,
(that is to say, coats of arms)
Shee nillynge to take myckle aie dothe
hede
i.e. ‘She unwilling to take much aye doth heed’; ‘which is nonsense’ says Prof. Skeat. But the sentence is an example of ellipse, a figure which Chatterton affected a good deal, and fully expressed would run ’She—not willing to take much, ever doth heed not to take much’, which would of course be intolerably clumsy but perfectly intelligible.
3. AElla, line 467.
Certis thie wordes maie, thou motest have sayne &c.
Prof. Skeat ‘can make nothing of this’ and reads ’Certes thy wordes mightest thou have sayn’.
A simple emendation of maie to meynte would give very good sense.
4. AElla, line 489.
Tyrwhitt has sphere—evidently a mistake in the MS. for spere which he overlooked. It is not included in his errata. In the 1842 edition the meaning ‘spear’ is given in a footnote.
5. Englysh Metamorphosis.
Prof. Skeat was the first to point out that this piece is an imitation of The Faerie Queene, Bk. ii, Canto X, stanzas 5-19.
6. Battle of Hastings, II, line 578.
To the ourt arraie of the thight Saxonnes came
Prof. Skeat explains ourt as ‘overt’ and observes that it contradicts thight, which he renders ‘tight’. But really there is not even an antithesis. Ourt arraie is what a military handbook calls ‘open order’ and thight is ‘well-built’, well put together (Bailey’s Dictionary). The Saxons were well-built men marching in open order.
BRIEF SYNOPSIS OF THE ARGUMENTS USED IN THE ROWLEY CONTROVERSY.
(Taken mainly from Gregory’s Life of Chatterton.)
Against Rowley.
1. So few originals produced—not more than 124 verses.
2. Chatterton had shown (by his article on Christmas games, &c.) that he had a strong turn for antiquities. He had also written poetry. Why then should he not have written Rowley’s poems?
3. His declaration that the Battle of Hastings I was his own.
4. Rudhall’s testimony.
5. Chatterton first exhibited the Songe to AElla in his own handwriting, then gave Barrett the parchment, which contained strange textual variations.
6. Rowley’s very existence doubtful.
William of Worcester, who lived at his time and was himself of Bristol, makes no mention of him, though he frequently alludes to Canynge. Neither Bale, Leland, Pitts nor Turner mentions Rowley.
7. Improbability of there being poems in a muniment chest. 8. Style unlike other fifteenth century writings.
9. No mediaeval learning or citation of authority to be found in Rowley; no references to the Round Table and stories of chivalry.
10. Stockings were not knitted in the fifteenth century (AElla). MSS. are referred to as if they were rarities and printed books common.
11. Metres and imitation of Pindar absurdly modern.
12. Mistakes cited which are derived from modern dictionaries (Tyrwhitt).
13. Existence of undoubted plagiarisms from Shakespeare, Gray, &c.
For Rowley.
1. Chatterton’s assertion that they were Rowley’s, his sister having represented him as a ’lover of truth from the earliest dawn of reason.’
2. Catcott’s assertion that Chatterton on their first acquaintance had mentioned by name almost all the poems which have since appeared in print (Bryant).
3. Smith had seen parchments in the possession of Chatterton, some as broad as the bottom of a large-sized chair. (Bryant.)
4. Even Mr. Clayfield and Rudhall believed Chatterton incapable of composing Rowley’s poems.
5. Undoubtedly there were ancient MSS. in the ‘cofre’.
6. Chatterton would never have had time to write so much. He did not neglect his work in the attorney’s office and he read enormously.
7. Chatterton made many mistakes in his transcription of Rowley and in his notes to the poems. (Bryant’s main contention.)
8. If Leland never mentioned Rowley it is equally true he says nothing of Canynge, Lydgate, or Occleve.
For Rowley.
1. The poems contain much historical allusion at once true and inaccessible to Chatterton.
2. The admitted poems are much below the standard of Rowley.
3. The old octave stanza is not far removed from the usual stanza of Rowley.
4. If Rowley’s language differs from that of other fifteenth century writers, the difference lies in provincialisms natural to an inhabitant of Bristol.
5. Plagiarisms from modern authors may in some cases have been introduced by Chatterton but in others they are the commonplaces of poetry.
Against Rowley.
1. No writings or chest deposited in Redcliffe Church are mentioned in Canynge’s Will.
2. The Bristol library was in Chatterton’s time of general access, and Chatterton was introduced to it by Rev. A. Catcott (Warton).
3. Facts about Canynge may be found in his epitaph in Redcliffe Church; and the account of Redcliffe steeple—(which had been destroyed by fire before Chatterton’s time) came from the bottom of an old print published in 1746.
4. The parchments were taken from the bottom of old deeds where a small blank space was usually left—hence their small size.
POEMS,
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN AT BRISTOL,
BY THOMAS ROWLEY, AND OTHERS, IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
POEMS,
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
AT BRISTOL, BY THOMAS ROWLEY,
AND OTHERS, IN THE FIFTEENTH
CENTURY. THE THIRD EDITION; TO
WHICH IS ADDED AN APPENDIX,
CONTAINING SOME OBSERVATIONS UPON
THE LANGUAGE OF THESE POEMS;
TENDING TO PROVE, THAT THEY WERE
WRITTEN, NOT BY ANY ANCIENT
AUTHOR, BUT ENTIRELY BY THOMAS
CHATTERTON.
The Preface
Introductory Account of the Several Pieces
Advertisement
Eclogue the First
Eclogue the Second
Eclogue the Third
Elinoure and Juga
Verses to Lydgate
Songe to AElla
Lydgate’s Answer
The Tournament
The Dethe of Syr Charles Bawdin
Epistle to Mastre Canynge on AElla
Letter to the dygne M. Canynge
Entroductionne
AElla; a Tragycal Enterlude
Goddwyn; a Tragedie. (A Fragment.)
Englysh Metamorphosis, B.I.
Balade of Charitie
Battle of Hastings, No. 1.
Battle of Hastings, No. 2.
Onn oure Ladies Chyrche
On the same
Epitaph on Robert Canynge
The Storie of William Canynge
On Happienesse, by William Canynge
Onn Johne a Dalbenie, by the same
The Gouler’s Requiem, by the same
The Accounte of W. Canynge’s Feast
GLOSSARY
PREFACE.
The Poems, which make the principal part of this Collection, have for some time excited much curiosity, as the supposed productions of THOMAS ROWLEY, a priest of Bristol, in the reigns of Henry VI. and Edward IV. They are here faithfully printed from the most authentic MSS that could be procured; of which a particular description is given in the Introductory account of the several pieces contained in this volume, subjoined to this Preface. Nothing more therefore seems necessary at present, than to inform the Reader shortly of the manner in which these Poems were first brought to light, and of the authority upon which they are ascribed to the persons whose names they bear.
This cannot be done so satisfactorily as in the words of Mr. George Catcott of Bristol, to whose very laudable zeal the Publick is indebted for the most considerable part of the following collection. His account of the matter is this: “The first discovery of certain MSS having been deposited in Redclift church, above three centuries ago, was made in the year 1768, at the time of opening the new bridge at Bristol, and was owing to a publication in Farley’s Weekly Journal, 1 October 1768, containing an Account of the ceremonies observed at the opening of the old bridge, taken, as it was said, from a very antient MS. This excited the curiosity of some persons to enquire after the original. The printer, Mr. Farley, could give no account of it, or of the person who brought the copy; but after much enquiry it was discovered, that the person who brought the copy was a youth, between 15 and 16 years of age, whose name was Thomas Chatterton, and whose family had been sextons of Redclift church for near 150 years. His father, who was now dead, had also been master of the free-school in Pile-street. The young man was at first very unwilling to discover from whence he had the original; but, after many promises made to him, he was at last prevailed on to acknowledge, that he had received this, together with many other MSS, from his father, who had found them in a large chest in an upper room over the chapel on the north side of Redclift church.”
Soon after this Mr. Catcott commenced his acquaintance with young Chatterton[1], and, partly as presents partly as purchases, procured from him copies of many of his MSS. in in prose and verse. Other copies were disposed of, in the same way, to Mr. William Barrett, an eminent surgeon at Bristol, who has long been engaged in writing the history of that city. Mr. Barrett also procured from him several fragments, some of a considerable length, written upon vellum[2], which he asserted to be part of his original MSS. In short, in the space of about eighteen months, from October 1768 to April 1770, besides the Poems now published, he produced as many compositions, in prose and verse, under the names of Rowley, Canynge, &c. as would nearly fill such another volume.
In April 1770 Chatterton went to London, and died there in the August following; so that the whole history of this very extraordinary transaction cannot now probably be known with any certainty. Whatever may have been his part in it; whether he was the author, or only the copier (as he constantly asserted) of all these productions; he appears to have kept the secret entirely to himself, and not to have put it in the power of any other person, to bear certain testimony either to his fraud or to his veracity.
The question therefore concerning the authenticity of these Poems must now be decided by an examination of the fragments upon vellum, which Mr. Barrett received from Chatterton as part of his original MSS., and by the internal evidence which the several pieces afford. If the Fragments shall be judged to be genuine, it will still remain to be determined, how far their genuineness should serve to authenticate the rest of the collection, of which no copies, older than those made by Chatterton, have ever been produced. On the other hand, if the writing of the Fragments shall be judged to be counterfeit and forged by Chatterton, it will not of necessity follow, that the matter of them was also forged by him, and still less, that all the other compositions, which he professed to have copied from antient MSS., were merely inventions of his own. In either case, the decision must finally depend upon the internal evidence.
It may be expected perhaps, that the Editor should give an opinion upon this important question; but he rather chooses, for many reasons, to leave it to the determination of the unprejudiced and intelligent Reader. He had long been desirous that these Poems should be printed; and therefore readily undertook the charge of superintending the edition. This he has executed in the manner, which seemed to him best suited to such a publication; and here he means that his task should end. Whether the Poems be really antient, or modern; the compositions of Rowley, or the forgeries of Chatterton; they must always be considered as a most singular literary curiosity.
[Footnote 1: The history of this youth is so intimately connected with that of the poems now published, that the Reader cannot be too early apprized of the principal circumstances of his short life. He was born on the 20th of November 1752, and educated at a charity-school on St. Augustin’s Back, where nothing more was taught than reading, writing, and accounts. At the age of fourteen, he was articled clerk to an attorney, with whom he continued till he left Bristol in April 1770.
Though his education was thus confined, he discovered an early turn towards poetry and English antiquities, particularly heraldry. How soon he began to be an author is not known. In the Town and Country Magazine for March 1769, are two letters, probably, from him, as they are dated at Bristol, and subscribed with his usual signature, D.B. The first contains short extracts from two MSS., “written three hundred years ago by one Rowley, a Monk” concerning dress in the age of Henry II; the other, “ETHELGAR, a Saxon poem” in bombast prose. In the same Magazine for May 1769, are three communications from Bristol, with the same signature, D.B. viz. CERDICK, translated from the Saxon (in the same style with ETHELGAR), p. 233.—Observations upon Saxon heraldry, with drawings of Saxon atchievements, &c. p. 245.—ELINOURE and JUGA, written three hundred years ago by T. ROWLEY, a secular priest, p. 273. This last poem is reprinted in this volume, p. 19. In the subsequent months of 1769 and 1770 there are several other pieces in the same Magazine, which are undoubtedly of his composition.
In April 1770, he left Bristol and came to London, in hopes of advancing his fortune by his talents for writing, of which, by this time, he had conceived a very high opinion. In the prosecution of this scheme, he appears to have almost entirely depended upon the patronage of a set of gentlemen, whom an eminent author long ago pointed out, as not the very worst judges or rewarders of merit, the booksellers of this great city. At his first arrival indeed he was so unlucky as to find two of his expected Maecenases, the one in the King’s Bench, and the other in Newgate. But this little disappointment was alleviated by the encouragement which he received from other quarters; and on the 14th of May he writes to his mother, in high spirits upon the change in his situation, with the following sarcastic reflection upon his former patrons at Bristol. “As to Mr.——, Mr.——, Mr.——, &c. &c. they rate literary lumber so low, that I believe an author, in their estimation, must be poor indeed! But here matters are otherwise. Had Rowley been a Londoner instead of a Bristowyan, I could have lived by copying his works.”
In a letter to his sister, dated 30 May, he informs her, that he is to be employed “in writing a voluminous history of London, to appear in numbers the beginning of next winter.” In the mean time, he had written something in praise of the Lord Mayor (Beckford), which had procured him the honour of being presented to his lordship. In the letter just mentioned he gives the following account of his reception, with some curious observations upon political writing: “The Lord Mayor received me as politely as a citizen could. But the devil of the matter is, there is no money to be got of this side of the question.—But he is a poor author who cannot write on both sides.—Essays on the patriotic side will fetch no more than what the copy is sold for. As the patriots themselves are searching for a place, they have no gratuity to spare.—On the other hand, unpopular essays will not even be accepted; and you must pay to have them printed: but then you seldom lose by it, as courtiers are so sensible of their deficiency in merit, that they generously reward all who know how to dawb them with the appearance of it.”
Notwithstanding his employment on the History of London, he continued to write incessantly in various periodical publications. On the 11th of July he tells his sister that he had pieces last month in the Gospel Magazine; the Town and Country, viz. Maria Friendless; False Step; Hunter of Oddities; To Miss Bush, &c. Court and City; London; Political Register &c. But all these exertions of his genius brought in so little profit, that he was soon reduced to real indigence; from which he was relieved by death (in what manner is not certainly known), on the 24th of August, or thereabout, when he wanted near three months to complete his eighteenth year. The floor of his chamber was covered with written papers, which he had torn into small pieces; but there was no appearance (as the Editor has been credibly informed) of any writings on parchment or vellum.]
[Footnote 2: One of these fragments, by Mr. Barrett’s permission, has been copied in the manner of a Fac simile, by that ingenious artist Mr. Strutt, and an engraving of it is inserted at p. 288. Two other small fragments of Poetry are printed in p. 277, 8, 9. See the Introductory Account. The fragments in prose, which are considerably larger, Mr. Barrett intends to publish in his History of Bristol, which, the Editor has the satisfaction to inform the Publick, is very far advanced. In the same work will be inserted A Discorse on Bristowe, and the other historical pieces in prose, which Chatterton at different times delivered out, as copied from Rowley’s MSS.; with such remarks by Mr. Barrett, as he of all men living is best qualified to make, from his accurate researches into the Antiquities of Bristol.]
OF THE
CONTAINED IN THIS VOLUME.
ECLOGUE THE FIRST. p. 1 ECLOGUE THE SECOND. 6 ECLOGUE THE THIRD. 12
These three Eclogues are printed from a MS. furnished by Mr. Catcott, in the hand-writing of Thomas Chatterton. It is a thin copy-book in 4to. with the following title in the first page. “Eclogues and other Poems by Thomas Rowley, with a Glossary and Annotations by Thomas Chatterton.”
There is only one other Poem in this book, viz. the fragment of “Goddwyn, a Tragedie,” which see below, p. 173.
This Poem is reprinted from the Town and Country Magazine for May 1769, p. 273. It is there entitled, “Elinoure and Juga. Written three hundred years ago by T. Rowley, a secular priest.” And it has the following subscription; “D.B. Bristol, May, 1769.” Chatterton soon after told Mr. Catcott, that he (Chatterton) inserted it in the Magazine.
The present Editor has taken the liberty to supply [between books][1] the names of the speakers, at ver. 22 and 29, which had probably been omitted by some accident in the first publication; as the nature of the composition seems to require, that the dialogue should proceed by alternate stanzas.
VERSES TO LYDGATE. p. 23 SONGE TO AELLA. Ibid. LYDGATE’S ANSWER. 26
These three small Poems are printed from a copy in Mr. Catcott’s hand-writing. Since they were printed off, the Editor has had an opportunity of comparing them with a copy made by Mr. Barrett from the piece of vellum, which Chatterton formerly gave to him as the original MS. The variations of importance (exclusive of many in the spelling) are set down below [2].
[Footnote 1: Misspelled as hooks in the original.—PG editor]
[Footnote 2: Verses to Lydgate.
In the title for Ladgate, r. Lydgate.
ver. 2. r. Thatt I and thee.
3. for bee,
r. goe.
7. for fyghte,
r. wryte.]
THE TOURNAMENT. p. 28
This Poem is printed from a copy made by Mr. Catcott, from one in Chatterton’s hand-writing.
Songe to AElla.
The title in the vellum MS. was simply “Songe toe AElle,” with a small mark of reference to a note below, containing the following words—“Lorde of the castelle of Brystowe ynne daies of yore.” It may be proper also to take notice, that the whole song was there written like prose, without any breaks, or divisions into verses.
ver. 6. for brastynge, r. burslynge.
11. for
valyante, r. burlie.
23. for
dysmall, r. honore.
Lydgate’s answer.
No title in the vellum MS.
ver. 3. for varses, r. pene.
antep. for Lendes, r. Sendes.
ult. for lyne, r. thynge.
Mr. Barrett had also a copy of these Poems by Chatterton, which differed from that, which Chatterton afterwards produced as the original, in the following particulars, among others.
In the title of the Verses to Lydgate.
Orig.
Lydgate Chat. Ladgate.
ver. 3. Orig, goe.
Chat. doe.
7.
Orig. wryte. Chat. fyghte.
Songe to AElla. ver. 5. Orig.
Dacyane. Chat. Dacya’s.
Orig.
whose lockes Chat. whose hayres.
11. Orig.
burlie. Chat. bronded.
22. Orig.
kennst. Chat. hearst.
23. Orig.
honore. Chat. dysmall.
26. Orig.
Yprauncynge Chat. Ifrayning,
30. Orig.
gloue. Chat. glare.
Sir Simon de Bourton, the hero of this poem, is supposed to have been the first founder of a church dedicated to oure Ladie, in the place where the church of St. Mary Ratcliffe now stands. Mr. Barrett has a small leaf of vellum (given to him by Chatterton as one of Rowley’s original MSS.), entitled, “Vita de Simon de Bourton,” in which Sir Simon is said, as in the poem, to have begun his foundation in consequence of a vow made at a tournament.
THE DETHE OF SYR CHARLES BAWDIN. p. 44
This Poem is reprinted from the copy printed at London in 1772, with a few corrections from a copy made by Mr. Catcott, from one in Chatterton’s hand-writing.
The person here celebrated, under the name of Syr Charles Bawdin, was probably Sir Baldewyn Fulford, Knt. a zealous Lancastrian, who was executed at Bristol in the latter end of 1461, the first year of Edward the Fourth. He was attainted, with many others, in the general act of Attainder, 1 Edw. IV. but he seems to have been executed under a special commission for the trial of treasons, &c. within the town of Bristol. The fragment of the old chronicle, published by Hearne at the end of Sprotti Chronica, p. 289, says only; “Item the same yere (1 Edw. IV.) was takin Sir Baldewine Fulford and behedid att Bristow.” But the matter is more fully stated in the act which passed in 7 Edw. IV. for the restitution in blood and estate of Thomas Fulford, Knt. eldest son of Baldewyn Fulford, late of Fulford, in the county of Devonshire, Knt. Rot. Pat. 8 Edw. IV. p. 1, m. 13. The preamble of this act, after stating the attainder by the act 1 Edw. IV. goes on thus: “And also the said Baldewyn, the said first yere of your noble reign, at Bristowe in the shere of Bristowe, before Henry Erle of Essex William Hastyngs of Hastyngs Knt. Richard Chock William Canyng Maire of the said towne of Bristowe and Thomas Yong, by force of your letters patentes to theym and other directe to here and determine all treesons &c. doon withyn the said towne of Bristowe before the vth day of September the first yere of your said reign, was atteynt of dyvers tresons by him doon ayenst your Highnes &c.” If the commission sate soon after the vth of September, as is most probable, King Edward might very possibly be at Bristol at the time of Sir Baldewyn’s execution; for, in the interval between his coronation and the parliament which met in November, he made a progress (as the Continuator of Stowe informs us, p. 416.) by the South coast into the West, and was (among other places) at Bristol. Indeed there is a circumstance which might lead us to believe, that he was actually a spectator of the execution from the minster-window, as described in the poem. In an old accompt of the Procurators of St. Ewin’s church, which was then the minster, from xx March in the 1 Edward IV. to 1 April in the year next ensuing, is the following article, according to a copy made by Mr. Catcott from the original book.
Item for washynge the church payven
ageyns } iiij d. ob.
Kynge Edward 4th is comynge.
}
AELLA, a tragycal enterlude. p. 65
This Poem, with the Epistle, Letter, and Entroductionne, is printed from a folio MS. furnished by Mr. Catcott, in the beginning of which he has written, “Chatterton’s transcript. 1769.” The whole transcript is of Chatterton’s hand-writing.
GODDWYN, a Tragedie. p. 173
This Fragment is printed from the MS. mentioned above, p. xv. in Chatterton’s hand-writing.
ENGLYSH METAMORPHOSIS. p. 196
This Poem is printed from a single sheet in Chatterton’s hand-writing, communicated by Mr. Barrett, who received it from Chatterton.
BALADE OF CHARITIE. p. 203
This Poem is also printed from a single sheet in Chatterton’s hand-writing. It was sent to the Printer of the Town and Country Magazine, with the following letter prefixed:
“To the Printer of the Town and Country Magazine.
SIR,
If the Glossary annexed to the following piece will make the language intelligible; the Sentiment, Description, and Versification, are highly deserving the attention of the literati.
July 4, 1770. D.B.”
BATTLE OF HASTINGS, No. 1. p. 210 BATTLE OF HASTINGS, No. 2. 237
In printing the first of these poems two copies have been made use of, both taken from copies of Chatterton’s hand-writing, the one by Mr. Catcott, and the other by Mr. Barrett. The principal difference between them is at the end, where the latter has fourteen lines from ver. 550, which are wanting in the former. The second poem is printed from a single copy, made by Mr. Barrett from one in Chatterton’s hand-writing.
It should be observed, that the Poem marked No. 1, was given to Mr. Barrett by Chatterton with the following title; “Battle of Hastings, wrote by Turgot the Monk, a Saxon, in the tenth century, and translated by Thomas Rowlie, parish preeste of St. Johns in the city of Bristol, in the year 1465.—The remainder of the poem I have not been happy enough to meet with.” Being afterwards prest by Mr. Barrett to produce any part of this poem in the original hand-writing, he at last said, that he wrote this poem himself for a friend; but that he had another, the copy of an original by Rowley: and being then desired to produce that other poem, he, after a considerable interval of time, brought to Mr. Barrett the poem marked No. 2, as far as ver. 530 incl. with the following title; “Battle of Hastyngs by Turgotus, translated by Roulie for W. Canynge Esq.” The lines from ver. 531 incl. were brought some time after, in consequence of Mr. Barrett’s repeated sollicitations for the conclusion of the poem.
ONN OURE LADIES CHYRCHE. p. 275 ON THE SAME. 276
The first of these Poems is printed from a copy made by Mr. Catcott, from one in Chatterton’s hand-writing.
The other is taken from a MS. in Chatterton’s hand-writing, furnished by Mr. Catcott, entitled, “A Discorse on Bristowe, by Thomas Rowlie.” See the Preface, p. xi. n.
EPITAPH ON ROBERT CANYNGE. p. 277
This is one of the fragments of vellum, given by Chatterton to Mr. Barrett, as part of his original MSS.
THE STORIE OF WILLIAM CANYNGE. p. 278
The 34 first lines of this poem are extant upon another of the vellum-fragments, given by Chatterton to Mr. Barrett. The remainder is printed from a copy furnished by Mr. Catcott, with some corrections from another copy, made by Mr. Barrett from one in Chatterton’s hand-writing. This poem makes part of a prose-work, attributed to Rowley, giving an account of Painters, Carvellers, Poets, and other eminent natives of Bristol, from the earliest times to his own. The whole will be published by Mr. Barrett, with remarks, and large additions; among which we may expect a complete and authentic history of that distinguished citizen of Bristol, Mr. William Canynge. In the mean time, the Reader may see several particulars relating to him in Cambden’s Britannia, Somerset. Col. 95.—Rymers Foedera, &c. ann. 1449 & 1450.—Tanner’s Not. Monast. Art. BRISTOL and WESTBURY.—Dugdale’s Warwickshire, p. 634.
It may be proper just to remark here, that Mr. Canynge’s brother, mentioned in ver. 129, who was lord mayor of London in 1456, is called Thomas by Stowe in his List of Mayors, &c.
The transaction alluded to in the last Stanza is related at large in some Prose Memoirs of Rowley, of which a very incorrect copy has been printed in the Town and Country Magazine for November 1775. It is there said, that Mr. Canynge went into orders, to avoid a marriage, proposed by King Edward, between him and a lady of the Widdevile family. It is certain, from the Register of the Bishop of Worcester, that Mr. Canynge was ordained Acolythe by Bishop Carpenter on 19 September 1467, and received the higher orders of Sub-deacon, Deacon, and Priest, on the 12th of March, 1467, O.S. the 2d and 16th of April, 1468, respectively.
ON HAPPIENESSE, by WILLIAM CANYNGE. p.
286
ONNE JOHNE A DALBENIE, by the same.
Ibid.
THE GOULER’S REQUIEM, by the same.
287
THE ACCOUNTE OF W. CANYNGE’S FEASTE.
288
Of these four Poems attributed to Mr. Canynge, the three first are printed from Mr. Catcott’s copies. The last is taken from a fragment of vellum, which Chatterton gave to Mr. Barrett as an original. The Editor has doubts about the reading of the second word in ver. 7, but he has printed it keene, as he found it so in other copies. The Reader may judge for himself, by examining the Fac simile in the opposite page.
With respect to the three friends of Mr. Canynge mentioned in the last line, the name of Rowley is sufficiently known from the preceding poems. Iscamm appears as an actor in the tragedy of AElla, p. 66. and in that of Goddwyn, p. 174.; and a poem, ascribed to him, entitled “The merry Tricks of Laymington,” is inserted in the “Discorse of Bristowe”. Sir Theobald Gorges was a knight of an antient family seated at Wraxhall, within a few miles of Bristol [See Rot. Parl.
The Reader is desired to observe, that the notes at the bottom of the several pages, throughout the following part of this book, are all copied from MSS. in the hand-writing of Thomas Chatterton.
POEMS, &c.
ECLOGUE THE FIRST.
Whanne Englonde, smeethynge[1]
from her lethal[2] wounde,
From her galled necke dyd
twytte[3] the chayne awaie,
Kennynge her legeful sonnes
falle all arounde,
(Myghtie theie fell, ’twas
Honoure ledde the fraie,)
Thanne inne a dale, bie eve’s
dark surcote[4] graie, 5
Twayne lonelie shepsterres[5]
dyd abrodden[6] flie,
(The rostlyng liff doth theyr
whytte hartes affraie[7],)
And wythe the owlette trembled
and dyd crie;
Firste Roberte Neatherde hys
sore boesom stroke.
Then fellen on the grounde and thus yspoke.
10
ROBERTE.
Ah, Raufe! gif thos the howres
do comme alonge,
Gif thos wee flie in chase
of farther woe,
Oure fote wylle fayle, albeytte
wee bee stronge,
Ne wylle oure pace swefte
as oure danger goe.
To oure grete wronges we have
enheped[8] moe, 15
The Baronnes warre! oh! woe
and well-a-daie!
I haveth lyff, bott have escaped
soe,
That lyff ytsel mie Senses
doe affraie.
Oh Raufe, comme lyste, and
hear mie dernie[9] tale,
Comme heare the balefull[10] dome of Robynne
of the Dale. 20
RAUFE.
Saie to mee nete; I kenne
thie woe in myne;
O! I’ve a tale
that Sabalus[11] mote[12] telle.
Swote[13] flouretts, mantled
meedows, forestes dygne[14];
Gravots[15] far-kend[16] arounde
the Errmiets[17] cell;
The swote ribible[18] dynning[19]
yn the dell; 25
The joyous daunceynge ynn
the hoastrie[20] courte;
Eke[21] the highe songe and
everych joie farewell,
Farewell the verie shade of
fayre dysporte[22]:
Impestering[23] trobble onn
mie heade doe comme,
Ne on kynde Seyncte to warde[24] the aye[25]
encreasynge dome. 30
ROBERTE.
Oh! I coulde waile mie
kynge-coppe-decked mees[26],
Mie spreedynge flockes of
shepe of lillie white,
Mie tendre applynges[27],
and embodyde[28] trees,
Mie Parker’s Grange[29],
far spreedynge to the syghte,
Mie cuyen[30] kyne [31], mie
bullockes stringe[32] yn syghte, 35
Mie gorne[33] emblaunched[34]
with the comfreie[35] plante,
Mie floure[36] Seyncte Marie
shotteyng wythe the lyghte,
Mie store of all the blessynges
Heaven can grant.
I amm duressed[37] unto sorrowes
blowe,
Ihanten’d[38] to the peyne, will
lette ne salte teare flowe. 40
RAUFE.
Here I wille obaie[39] untylle
Dethe doe ’pere,
Here lyche a foule empoysoned
leathel[40] tree,
Whyche sleaeth[41] everichone
that commeth nere,
Soe wille I fyxed unto thys
place gre[42].
I to bement[43] haveth moe
cause than thee; 45
Sleene in the warre mie boolie[44]
fadre lies;
Oh! joieous I hys mortherer
would slea,
And bie hys syde for aie enclose
myne eies.
Calked[45] from everych joie,
heere wylle I blede;
Fell ys the Cullys-yatte[46] of mie hartes
castle stede. 50
ROBERTE.
Oure woes alyche, alyche our
dome[47] shal bee.
Mie sonne, mie sonne alleyn[48],
ystorven[49] ys;
Here wylle I staie, and end
mie lyff with thee;
A lyff lyche myn a borden
ys ywis.
Now from een logges[50] fledden
is selyness[51], 55
Mynsterres[52] alleyn[53]
can boaste the hallie[54] Seyncte,
Now doeth Englonde weare a
bloudie dresse
And wyth her champyonnes gore
her face depeyncte;
Peace fledde, disorder sheweth
her dark rode[55],
And thorow ayre doth flie, yn garments
steyned with bloude. 60
[Footnote 1: Smething, smoking; in some copies bletheynge, but in the original as above.]
[Footnote 2: deadly.]
[Footnote 3: pluck or pull.]
[Footnote 4: Surcote, a cloke, or mantel, which hid all the other dress.]
[Footnote 5: shepherds.]
[Footnote 6: abruptly, so Chaucer, Syke he abredden dyd attourne.]
[Footnote 7: affright.]
[Footnote 8: Added.]
[Footnote 9: sad.]
[Footnote 10: woeful, lamentable.]
[Footnote 11: the Devil.]
[Footnote 12: might.]
[Footnote 13: sweet.]
[Footnote 14: good, neat, genteel.]
[Footnote 15: groves, sometimes used for a coppice.]
[Footnote 16: far-seen.]
[Footnote 17: Hermit.]
[Footnote 18: violin.]
[Footnote 19: sounding.]
[Footnote 20: inn, or public-house.]
[Footnote 21: also.]
[Footnote 22: pleasure.]
[Footnote 23: annoying.]
[Footnote 24: to keep off.]
[Footnote 25: ever, always.]
[Footnote 26: meadows.]
[Footnote 27: grafted trees.]
[Footnote 28: thick, stout.]
[Footnote 29: liberty of pasture given to the Parker.]
[Footnote 30: tender.]
[Footnote 31: cows.]
[Footnote 32: strong.]
[Footnote 33: garden.]
[Footnote 34: whitened.]
[Footnote 35: cumfrey, a favourite dish at that time.]
[Footnote 36: marygold.]
[Footnote 37: hardened.]
[Footnote 38: accustomed.]
[Footnote 39: abide. This line is also wrote, “Here wyll I obaie untill dethe appere,” but this is modernized.]
[Footnote 40: deadly.]
[Footnote 41: destroyeth, killeth.]
[Footnote 42: grow.]
[Footnote 43: lament.]
[Footnote 44: much-loved, beloved.]
[Footnote 45: cast out, ejected.]
[Footnote 46: alluding to the portcullis, which guarded the gate, on which often depended the castle.]
[Footnote 47: fate.]
[Footnote 48: my only son.]
[Footnote 49: dead.]
[Footnote 50: cottages.]
[Footnote 51: happiness.]
[Footnote 52: monasterys.]
[Footnote 53: only.]
[Footnote 54: holy.]
[Footnote 55: complexion.]
Sprytes[1] of the bleste, the pious Nygelle
sed,
Poure owte yer pleasaunce[2] onn mie fadres
hedde.
Rycharde of Lyons harte to
fyghte is gon,
Uponne the brede[3] sea doe
the banners gleme[4];
The amenused[5] nationnes
be aston[6], 5
To ken[7] syke[8] large a
flete, syke fyne, syke breme[9].
The barkis heafods[10] coupe[11]
the lymed[12] streme;
Oundes[13] synkeynge oundes
upon the hard ake[14] riese;
The water slughornes[15] wythe
a swotye[16] cleme[17]
Conteke[18] the dynnynge[19]
ayre, and reche the skies. 10
Sprytes of the bleste, on gouldyn trones[20]
astedde[21],
Poure owte yer pleasaunce onn mie fadres
hedde.
The gule[22] depeyncted[23]
oares from the black tyde,
Decorn[24] wyth fonnes[25]
rare, doe shemrynge[26] ryse;
Upswalynge[27] doe heie[28]
shewe ynne drierie pryde, 15
Lyche gore-red estells[29]
in the eve[30]-merk[31] skyes;
The nome-depeyncted[32] shields,
the speres aryse,
Alyche[33] talle roshes on
the water syde;
Alenge[34] from bark to bark
the bryghte sheene[35] flyes;
Sweft-kerv’d[36] delyghtes
doe on the water glyde. 20
Sprites of the bleste, and everich Seyncte
ydedde,
Poure owte youre pleasaunce on mie fadres
hedde.
The Sarafen lokes owte:
he doethe feere,
That Englondes brondeous[37]
sonnes do cotte the waie.
Lyke honted bockes, theye
reineth[38] here and there, 25
Onknowlachynge[39] inne whatte
place to obaie[40].
The banner glesters on the
beme of daie;
The mittee[41] crosse Jerusalim
ys seene;
Dhereof the syghte yer corrage
doe affraie[42],
In balefull[43] dole their
faces be ywreene[44]. 30
Sprytes of the bleste, and everich Seyncte
ydedde,
Poure owte your pleasaunce on mie fadres
hedde.
The bollengers[45] and cottes[45],
soe swyfte yn fyghte,
Upon the sydes of everich
bark appere;
Foorthe to his offyce lepethe
everych knyghte, 35
Eftsoones[46] hys squyer,
with hys shielde and spere.
The jynynge shieldes doe shemre
and moke glare[47];
The dotheynge oare doe make
gemoted[48] dynne;
The reynyng[49] foemen[50],
thynckeynge gif[51] to dare,
Boun[52] the merk[53] swerde,
theie seche to fraie[54], theie blyn[55].
Sprytes of the bleste, and everyche Seyncte
ydedde,
Powre oute yer pleasaunce onn mie fadres
hedde.
Now comm the warrynge Sarasyns
to fyghte;
Kynge Rycharde, lyche a lyoncel[56]
of warre,
Inne sheenynge goulde, lyke
feerie[57] gronfers[58], dyghte[59],
Shaketh alofe hys honde, and
seene afarre. 45
Syke haveth I espyde a greter
starre
Amenge the drybblett[60] ons
to sheene fulle bryghte;
Syke sunnys wayne[61] wyth
amayl’d[62] beames doe barr
The blaunchie[63] mone or
estells[64] to gev lyghte. 50
Sprytes of the bleste, and everich Seyncte
ydedde,
Poure owte your pleasaunce on mie fadres
hedde.
Distraughte[65] affraie[66],
wythe lockes of blodde-red die,
Terroure, emburled[67] yn
the thonders rage,
Deathe, lynked to dismaie,
dothe ugsomme[68] flie, 55
Enchasynge[69] echone champyonne
war to wage.
Speeres bevyle[70] speres;
swerdes upon swerdes engage;
Armoure on armoure dynn[71],
shielde upon shielde;
Ne dethe of thosandes can
the warre assuage,
Botte salleynge nombers sable[72]
all the feelde. 60
Sprytes of the bleste, and everych Seyncte
ydedde,
Poure owte youre pleasaunce on mie fadres
hedde.
The foemen fal arounde; the
cross reles[73] hye;
Steyned ynne goere, the harte
of warre ys seen;
Kyng Rycharde, thorough everyche
trope dothe flie, 65
And beereth meynte[74] of
Turkes onto the greene;
Bie hymm the floure of Asies
menn ys sleene[75];
The waylynge[76] mone doth
fade before hys sonne;
Bie hym hys knyghtes bee formed
to actions deene[77],
Doeynge syke marvels[78],
strongers be aston[79]. 70
Sprytes of the bleste, and everych Seyncte
ydedde,
Poure owte your pleasaunce onn mie fadres
hedde.
The fyghte ys wonne; Kynge
Rycharde master is;
The Englonde bannerr kisseth
the hie ayre;
Full of pure joie the armie
is iwys[80], 75
And everych one haveth it
onne his bayre[81];
Agayne to Englonde comme,
and worschepped there.
Twyghte[82] into lovynge armes,
and feasted eft[83];
In everych eyne aredynge nete
of wyere[84],
Of all remembrance of past
peyne berefte. 80
Sprites of the bleste, and everich Seyncte
ydedde,
Syke pleasures powre upon mie fadres hedde.
Syke Nigel sed, whan from
the bluie sea
The upswol[85] sayle dyd daunce
before his eyne;
Swefte as the withe, hee toe
the beeche dyd flee. 85
And founde his fadre steppeynge
from the bryne.
Lette thyssen menne, who haveth
sprite of loove,
Bethyncke untoe hemselves how mote the
meetynge proove.
[Footnote 1: Spirits, souls.]
[Footnote 2: pleasure.]
[Footnote 3: broad.]
[Footnote 4: shine, glimmer.]
[Footnote 5: diminished, lessened.]
[Footnote 6: astonished, confounded.]
[Footnote 7: see, discover, know.]
[Footnote 8: such, so.]
[Footnote 9: strong.]
[Footnote 10: heads.]
[Footnote 11: cut.]
[Footnote 12: glassy, reflecting.]
[Footnote 13: waves, billows.]
[Footnote 14: oak.]
[Footnote 15: a musical instrument, not unlike a hautboy.]
[Footnote 16: sweet.]
[Footnote 17: sound.]
[Footnote 18: confuse, contend with.]
[Footnote 19: sounding.]
[Footnote 20: thrones.]
[Footnote 21: seated.]
[Footnote 22: red.]
[Footnote 23: painted.]
[Footnote 24: carved.]
[Footnote 25: devices.]
[Footnote 26: glimmering.]
[Footnote 27: rising high, swelling up.]
[Footnote 28: they.]
[Footnote 29: a corruption of estoile, Fr. a star.]
[Footnote 30: evening.]
[Footnote 31: dark.]
[Footnote 32: rebus’d shields; a herald term, when the charge of the shield implies the name of the bearer.]
[Footnote 33: like.]
[Footnote 34: along.]
[Footnote 35: shine.]
[Footnote 36: short-lived.]
[Footnote 37: furious.]
[Footnote 38: runneth.]
[Footnote 39: not knowing.]
[Footnote 40: abide.]
[Footnote 41: mighty.]
[Footnote 42: affright.]
[Footnote 43: woeful.]
[Footnote 44: covered.]
[Footnote 45: different kinds of boats.]
[Footnote 46: full soon, presently.]
[Footnote 47: glitter.]
[Footnote 48: united, assembled.]
[Footnote 49: running.]
[Footnote 50: foes.]
[Footnote 51: if.]
[Footnote 52: make ready.]
[Footnote 53: dark.]
[Footnote 54: engage.]
[Footnote 55: cease, stand still.]
[Footnote 56: a young lion.]
[Footnote 57: flaming.]
[Footnote 58: a meteor, from gron, a fen, and fer, a corruption of fire; that is, a fire exhaled from a fen.]
[Footnote 59: deckt.]
[Footnote 60: small, insignificant.]
[Footnote 61: carr.]
[Footnote 62: enameled.]
[Footnote 63: white, silver.]
[Footnote 64: stars.]
[Footnote 65: distracting.]
[Footnote 66: affright.]
[Footnote 67: armed.]
[Footnote 68: terribly.]
[Footnote 69: encouraging, heating.]
[Footnote 70: break, a herald term, signifying a spear broken in tilting.]
[Footnote 71: sounds.]
[Footnote 72: blacken.]
[Footnote 73: waves.]
[Footnote 74: many, great numbers.]
[Footnote 75: slain.]
[Footnote 76: decreasing.]
[Footnote 77: glorious, worthy.]
[Footnote 78: wonders.]
[Footnote 79: astonished.]
[Footnote 80: certainly.]
[Footnote 81: brow.]
[Footnote 82: plucked, pulled.]
[Footnote 83: often.]
[Footnote 84: grief, trouble.]
[Footnote 85: swollen.]
Wouldst thou kenn nature in
her better parte?
Goe, serche the logges [1]
and bordels[2] of the hynde[3];
Gyff[4] theie have anie, itte
ys roughe-made arte,
Inne hem[5] you see the blakied[6]
forme of kynde[7].
Haveth your mynde a lycheynge[8]
of a mynde? 5
Woulde it kenne everich thynge,
as it mote[9] bee?
Woulde ytte here phrase of
the vulgar from the hynde,
Withoute wiseegger[10] wordes
and knowlache[11] free?
Gyf soe, rede thys, whyche
Iche dysporteynge[12] pende;
Gif nete besyde, yttes rhyme maie ytte
commende. 10
MANNE.
Botte whether, fayre mayde, do ye goe?
O where do ye bende yer waie?
I wille knowe whether you goe,
I wylle not bee asseled[13]
naie.
WOMANNE.
To Robyn and Nell, all downe in the delle,
15
To hele[14] hem at makeynge
of haie.
MANNE.
Syr Rogerre, the parsone, hav hyred mee
there,
Comme, comme, lett us tryppe
ytte awaie,
We’lle wurke[15] and we’lle
synge, and wylle drenche[16] of stronge beer
As longe as the merrie sommers
daie. 20
WOMANNE.
How harde ys mie dome to wurch!
Moke
is mie woe.
Dame Agnes, whoe lies ynne the Chyrche
With
birlette[17] golde,
Wythe gelten[18] aumeres[19] stronge ontolde,
25
What was shee moe than me, to be soe?
MANNE.
I kenne Syr Roger from afar
Tryppynge over
the lea;
Ich ask whie the loverds[20]
son
Is moe than mee.
30
SYR ROGERRE.
The sweltrie[21] sonne dothe
hie apace hys wayne[22],
From everich beme a seme[23];
of lyfe doe falle;
Swythyn[24] scille[25] oppe
the haie uponne the playne;
Methynckes the cockes begynneth
to gre[26] talle.
Thys ys alyche oure doome[27];
the great, the smalle, 35
Mofte withe[28] and bee forwyned[29]
by deathis darte.
See! the swote[30] flourette[31]
hathe noe swote at alle;
Itte wythe the ranke wede
bereth evalle[32] parte.
The cravent[33], warrioure,
and the wyse be blente[34],
Alyche to drie awaie wythe those theie
dyd bemente[35]. 40
MANNE.
All-a-boon[36], Syr Priest, all-a-boon,
Bye yer preestschype nowe
saye unto mee;
Syr Gaufryd the knyghte, who lyvethe harde
bie,
Whie shoulde hee than mee
Bee
moe greate,
45
Inne honnoure, knyghtehoode and estate?
SYR ROGERRE.
Attourne[37] thine eyne arounde
thys haied mee,
Tentyflie[38] loke arounde
the chaper[39] delle[40];
An answere to thie barganette[41]
here see,
Thys welked[42] flourette
wylle a leson telle: 50
Arist[43] it blew[44], itte
florished, and dyd welle,
Lokeynge ascaunce[45] upon
the naighboure greene;
Yet with the deigned[46] greene
yttes rennome[47] felle,
Eftsoones[48] ytte shronke
upon the daie-brente[49] playne,
Didde not yttes loke, whilest
ytte there dyd stonde, 55
To croppe ytte in the bodde move somme
dred honde.
Syke[50] ys the waie of lyffe;
the loverds[51] ente[52]
Mooveth the robber hym therfor
to slea[53];
Gyf thou has ethe[54], the
shadowe of contente,
Beleive the trothe[55], theres
none moe haile[56] yan thee. 60
Thou wurchest[57]; welle,
canne thatte a trobble bee?
Slothe moe wulde jade thee
than the roughest daie.
Couldest thou the kivercled[58]
of soughlys[59] see,
Thou wouldst eftsoones[60]
see trothe ynne whatte I saie;
Botte lette me heere thie
waie of lyffe, and thenne 65
Heare thou from me the lyffes of odher
menne.
MANNE.
I ryse wythe the sonne,
Lyche hym to dryve the wayne[61],
And eere mie wurche is don
I synge a songe or twayne[62].
70
I followe the plough-tayle,
Wythe a longe jubb[63] of ale.
Botte of the maydens, oh!
Itte lacketh notte to telle;
Syr Preeste mote notte crie woe,
75
Culde hys bull do as welle.
I daunce the beste heiedeygnes[64],
And foile[65] the wysest feygnes[66].
On everych Seynctes hie daie
Wythe the mynstrelle[67] am I seene,
80
All a footeynge it awaie,
Wythe maydens on the greene.
But oh! I wyshe to be moe greate,
In rennome, tenure, and estate.
SYR ROGERRE.
Has thou ne seene a tree uponne
a hylle, 85
Whose unliste[68] braunces[69]
rechen far toe fyghte;
Whan fuired[70] unwers[71]
doe the heaven fylle,
Itte shaketh deere[72] yn
dole[73] and moke affryghte.
Whylest the congeon[74] flowrette
abessie[75] dyghte[76],
Stondethe unhurte, unquaced[77]
bie the storme: 90
Syke is a picte[78] of lyffe:
the manne of myghte
Is tempest-chaft[79], hys
woe greate as hys forme,
Thieselfe a flowrette of a
small accounte,
Wouldst harder felle the wynde, as hygher
thee dydste mounte.
[Footnote 1: lodges, huts.]
[Footnote 2: cottages.]
[Footnote 3: servant, slave, peasant.]
[Footnote 4: if.]
[Footnote 5: a contraction of them.]
[Footnote 6: naked, original.]
[Footnote 7: nature.]
[Footnote 8: liking.]
[Footnote 9: might. The sense of this line is, Would you see every thing in its primaeval state.]
[Footnote 10: wise-egger, a philosopher.]
[Footnote 11: knowledge.]
[Footnote 12: sporting.]
[Footnote 13: answered.]
[Footnote 14: aid, or help.]
[Footnote 15: work.]
[Footnote 16: drink.]
[Footnote 17: a hood, or covering for the back part of the head.]
[Footnote 18: guilded.]
[Footnote 19: borders of gold and silver, on which was laid thin plates of either metal counterchanged, not unlike the present spangled laces.]
[Footnote 20: lord.]
[Footnote 21: sultry.]
[Footnote 22: car.]
[Footnote 23: seed.]
[Footnote 24: quickly, presently.]
[Footnote 25: gather.]
[Footnote 26: grow.]
[Footnote 27: fate.]
[Footnote 28: a contraction of wither.]
[Footnote 29: dried.]
[Footnote 30: sweet.]
[Footnote 31: flower.]
[Footnote 32: equal.]
[Footnote 33: coward.]
[Footnote 34: ceased, dead, no more.]
[Footnote 35: lament.]
[Footnote 36: a manner of asking a favour.]
[Footnote 37: turn.]
[Footnote 38: carefully, with circumspection.]
[Footnote 39: dry, sun-burnt.]
[Footnote 40: valley.]
[Footnote 41: a song, or ballad.]
[Footnote 42: withered.]
[Footnote 43: arisen, or arose.]
[Footnote 44: blossomed.]
[Footnote 45: disdainfully.]
[Footnote 46: disdained.]
[Footnote 47: glory.]
[Footnote 48: quickly.]
[Footnote 49: burnt.]
[Footnote 50: such.]
[Footnote 51: lord’s.]
[Footnote 52: a purse or bag.]
[Footnote 53: slay.]
[Footnote 54: ease.]
[Footnote 55: truth.]
[Footnote 56: happy.]
[Footnote 57: workest.]
[Footnote 58: the hidden or secret part of.]
[Footnote 59: souls.]
[Footnote 60: full soon, or presently.]
[Footnote 61: car.]
[Footnote 62: two.]
[Footnote 63: a bottle.]
[Footnote 64: a country dance, still practised in the North.]
[Footnote 65: baffle.]
[Footnote 66: a corruption of feints.]
[Footnote 67: a minstrel is a musician.]
[Footnote 68: unbounded.]
[Footnote 69: branches.]
[Footnote 70: furious.]
[Footnote 71: tempests, storms.]
[Footnote 72: dire.]
[Footnote 73: dismay.]
[Footnote 74: dwarf.]
[Footnote 75: humility.]
[Footnote 76: decked.]
[Footnote 77: unhurt.]
[Footnote 78: picture.]
[Footnote 79: tempest-beaten.]
Onne Ruddeborne[1] bank twa
pynynge Maydens fate,
Theire teares faste dryppeynge
to the waterre cleere;
Echone bementynge[2] for her
absente mate,
Who atte Seyncte Albonns shouke
the morthynge[3] speare.
The nottebrowne Elinoure to
Juga fayre 5
Dydde speke acroole[4], wythe
languishment of eyne,
Lyche droppes of pearlie dew, lemed[5]
the quyvryng brine.
ELINOURE.
O gentle Juga! heare mie dernie[6]
plainte,
To fyghte for Yorke mie love
ys dyghte[7] in stele;
O maie ne sanguen steine the
whyte rose peyncte, 10
Maie good Seyncte Cuthberte
watche Syrre Roberte wele.
Moke moe thanne deathe in
phantasie I feele;
See! see! upon the grounde
he bleedynge lies;
Inhild[8] some joice[9] of lyfe or else
mie deare love dies.
JUGA.
Systers in sorrowe, on thys
daise-ey’d banke, 15
Where melancholych broods,
we wyll lamente;
Be wette wythe mornynge dewe
and evene danke;
Lyche levynde[10] okes in
eche the odher bente,
Or lyche forlettenn[11] halles
of merriemente,
Whose gastlie mitches[12]
holde the traine of fryghte[13], 20
Where lethale[14] ravens bark, and owlets
wake the nyghte.
[ELINOURE.]
No moe the miskynette[15]
shall wake the morne,
The minstrelle daunce, good
cheere, and morryce plaie;
No moe the amblynge palfrie
and the horne
Shall from the lessel[16]
rouze the foxe awaie; 25
I’ll seke the foreste
alle the lyve-longe daie;
Alle nete amenge the gravde
chyrche[17] glebe wyll goe,
And to the passante Spryghtes lecture[18]
mie tale of woe.
[JUGA.]
Whan mokie[19] cloudis do
hange upon the leme
Of leden[20] Moon, ynn sylver
mantels dyghte; 30
The tryppeynge Faeries weve
the golden dreme
Of Selyness[21], whyche flyethe
wythe the nyghte;
Thenne (botte the Seynctes
forbydde!) gif to a spryte
Syrr Rychardes forme ys lyped,
I’ll holde dystraughte
Hys bledeynge claie-colde corse, and die
eche daie ynn thoughte. 35
ELINOURE.
Ah woe bementynge wordes;
what wordes can shewe!
Thou limed[22] ryver, on thie
linche[23] maie bleede
Champyons, whose bloude wylle
wythe thie waterres flowe,
And Rudborne streeme be Rudborne
streeme indeede!
Haste, gentle Juga, tryppe
ytte oere the meade, 40
To knowe, or wheder we muste
waile agayne,
Or wythe oure fallen knyghtes be menged
onne the plain.
Soe sayinge, lyke twa levyn-blasted
trees,
Or twayne of cloudes that
holdeth stormie rayne;
Theie moved gentle oere the
dewie mees[24], 45
To where Seyncte Albons holie
shrynes remayne.
There dyd theye fynde that
bothe their knyghtes were slayne,
Distraughte[25] theie wandered
to swollen Rudbornes syde,
Yelled theyre leathalle knelle, sonke
ynn the waves, and dyde.
[Footnote 1: Rudborne (in Saxon, red-water), a River near Saint Albans, famous for the battles there fought between the Houses of Lancaster and York.]
[Footnote 2: lamenting.]
[Footnote 3: murdering.]
[Footnote 4: faintly.]
[Footnote 5: glistened.]
[Footnote 6: sad complaint.]
[Footnote 7: arrayed, or cased.]
[Footnote 8: infuse.]
[Footnote 9: juice.]
[Footnote 10: blasted.]
[Footnote 11: forsaken.]
[Footnote 12: ruins.]
[Footnote 13: fear.]
[Footnote 14: deadly or deathboding.]
[Footnote 15: a small bagpipe.]
[Footnote 16: in a confined sense, a bush or hedge, though sometimes used as a forest.]
[Footnote 17: church-yard.]
[Footnote 18: relate.]
[Footnote 19: black.]
[Footnote 20: decreasing.]
[Footnote 21: happiness.]
[Footnote 22: glassy.]
[Footnote 23: bank.]
[Footnote 24: meeds.]
[Footnote 25: distracted.]
[Sent with the following Songe to AElla.]
Well thanne, goode Johne, sythe ytt must
needes be soe,
Thatt thou & I a bowtynge matche must
have,
Lette ytt ne breakynge of oulde friendshyppe
bee,
Thys ys the onelie all-a-boone I crave.
Rememberr Stowe, the Bryghtstowe Carmalyte,
5
Who whanne Johne Clarkynge, one of myckle
lore,
Dydd throwe hys gauntlette-penne, wyth
hym to fyghte,
Hee showd smalle wytte, and showd hys
weaknesse more.
Thys ys mie formance, whyche I nowe have
wrytte,
The best performance of mie lyttel wytte.
10
Oh thou, orr what remaynes
of thee,
AElla, the darlynge of futurity,
Lett thys mie songe bolde as thie courage
be,
As everlastynge to posteritye.
Whanne Dacya’s sonnes, whose hayres
of bloude-redde hue 5
Lyche kynge-cuppes brastynge wythe the
morning due,
Arraung’d ynne dreare
arraie,
Upponne the lethale daie,
Spredde farre and wyde onne Watchets shore;
Than dyddst thou furiouse
stande, 10
And bie thie valyante hande
Beesprengedd all the mees wythe gore.
Drawne bie thyne anlace felle,
Downe to the depthe of helle
Thousandes of Dacyanns went;
15
Brystowannes, menne of myghte,
Ydar’d the bloudie fyghte,
And actedd deeds full quent.
Oh thou, whereer (thie bones
att reste)
Thye Spryte to haunte delyghteth
beste, 20
Whetherr upponne the bloude-embrewedd
pleyne,
Orr whare thou kennst fromm
farre
The dysmall crye of warre,
Orr seest somme mountayne made of corse
of sleyne;
Orr seest the hatchedd stede,
25
Ypraunceynge o’er the
mede,
And neighe to be amenged the poynctedd
speeres;
Orr ynne blacke armoure staulke
arounde
Embattel’d Brystowe,
once thie grounde,
And glowe ardurous onn the Castle steeres;
30
Orr fierye round the mynsterr
glare;
Lette Brystowe stylle be made
thie care;
Guarde ytt fromme foemenne & consumynge
fyre;
Lyche Avones streme ensyrke
ytte rounde,
Ne lette a flame enharme the
grounde, 35
Tylle ynne one flame all the whole worlde
expyre.
The underwritten Lines were composed by JOHN LADGATE,
a Priest in
London, and sent to ROWLIE, as an Answer to the preceding
Songe of
AElla.
Havynge wythe mouche attentyonn redde
Whatt you dydd to mee sende,
Admyre the varses mouche I dydd,
And thus an answerr lende.
Amongs the Greeces Homer was
5
A Poett mouche renownde,
Amongs the Latyns Vyrgilius
Was beste of Poets founde.
The Brytish Merlyn oftenne hanne
The gyfte of inspyration,
10
And Afled to the Sexonne menne
Dydd synge wythe elocation.
Ynne Norman tymes, Turgotus and
Goode Chaucer dydd excelle,
Thenn Stowe, the Bryghtstowe Carmelyte,
15
Dydd bare awaie the belle.
Nowe Rowlie ynne these mokie dayes
Lendes owte hys sheenynge
lyghtes,
And Turgotus and Chaucer lyves
Ynne ev’ry lyne he wrytes.
20
AN INTERLUDE.
ENTER AN HERAWDE.
The Tournament begynnes; the
hammerrs sounde;
The courserrs lysse[1] about
the mensuredd[2] fielde;
The shemrynge armoure throws
the sheene arounde;
Quayntyssed[3] fons[4] depictedd[5]
onn eche sheelde.
The feerie[6] heaulmets, wythe
the wreathes amielde[7], 5
Supportes the rampynge lyoncell[8]
orr beare,
Wythe straunge depyctures[9],
Nature maie nott yeelde,
Unseemelie to all orderr doe
appere,
Yett yatte[10] to menne, who
thyncke and have a spryte[11],
Makes knowen thatt the phantasies
unryghte. 10
I, Sonne of Honnoure, spencer[11]
of her joies,
Muste swythen[12] goe to yeve[13]
the speeres arounde,
Wythe advantayle[14] & borne[15]
I meynte[16] emploie,
Who withoute mee woulde fall
untoe the grounde.
Soe the tall oake the ivie
twysteth rounde; 15
Soe the neshe[17] flowerr
grees[18] ynne the woodeland shade.
The worlde bie diffraunce
ys ynne orderr founde;
Wydhoute unlikenesse nothynge
could bee made.
As ynn the bowke[19] nete[20]
alleyn[21] cann bee donne,
Syke[22] ynn the weal of kynde all thynges
are partes of onne. 20
Enterr SYRR SYMONNE DE BOURTONNE.
Herawde[23], bie heavenne
these tylterrs staie too long.
Mie phantasie ys dyinge forr
the fyghte.
The mynstrelles have begonne
the thyrde warr songe,
Yett notte a speere of hemm[24]
hath grete mie syghte.
I feere there be ne manne
wordhie mie myghte. 25
I lacke a Guid[25], a Wyllyamm[26]
to entylte.
To reine[27] anente[28] a
fele[29] embodiedd knyghte,
Ytt gettes ne rennome[30]
gyff hys blodde bee spylte.
Bie heavenne & Marie ytt ys
tyme they’re here;
I lyche nott unthylle[31]
thus to wielde the speare. 30
HERAWDE.
Methynckes I heare yer slugghornes[32] dynn[33] fromm farre.
BOURTONNE.
Ah! swythenn[34] mie shielde
& tyltynge launce bee bounde [35].
Eftsoones[36] beheste[37]
mie Squyerr to the warre.
I flie before to clayme a
challenge grownde.
[Goeth
oute.
HERAWDE.
Thie valourous actes woulde
meinte[38] of menne astounde;
Harde bee yer shappe[39] encontrynge
thee ynn fyghte;
Anenst[40] all menne thou
bereft to the grounde,
Lyche the hard hayle dothe
the tall roshes pyghte[41].
As whanne the mornynge sonne
ydronks the dew,
Syche dothe thie valourous
actes drocke[42] eche knyghte’s hue. 40
THE LYSTES. THE KYNGE.
SYRR SYMONNE DE BOURTONNE, SYRR HUGO
FERRARIS, SYRR RANULPH NEVILLE,
SYRR LODOVICK DE CLYNTON,
SYRR JOHAN DE BERGHAMME, AND
ODHERR KNYGHTES, HERAWDES,
MYNSTRELLES. AND SERVYTOURS[43].
KYNGE.
The barganette[44]; yee mynstrelles
tune the strynge,
Somme actyonn dyre of auntyante
kynges now synge.
MYNSTRELLES.
Wyllyamm, the Normannes floure
botte Englondes thorne,
The manne whose myghte delievretie[45]
hadd knite[46],
Snett[46] oppe hys long strunge
bowe and sheelde aborne[47], 45
Behesteynge[48] all hys hommageres[49]
to fyghte.
Goe, rouze the lyonn fromm
hys hylted[50] denne,
Lett thie floes[51] drenche the blodde
of anie thynge bott menne.
Ynn the treed forreste doe
the knyghtes appere;
Wyllyamm wythe myghte hys
bowe enyronn’d[52] plies[53];
50
Loude dynns[54] the arrowe
ynn the wolfynn’s eare;
Hee ryseth battent[55] roares,
he panctes, hee dyes.
Forslagenn att thie feete
lett wolvynns bee,
Lett thie floes drenche theyre blodde,
bott do ne bredrenn flea.
Throwe the merke[56] shade
of twistynde trees hee rydes; 55
The flemed[57] owlett[58]
flapps herr eve-speckte[59] wynge;
The lordynge[60] toade ynn
all hys passes bides;
The berten[61] neders[62]
att hymm darte the stynge;
Styll, stylle, hee passes
onn, hys stede astrodde,
Nee hedes the daungerous waie gyff leadynge
untoe bloodde. 60
The lyoncel, fromme sweltrie[63]
countries braughte,
Coucheynge binethe the sheltre
of the brierr,
Att commyng dynn[64] doth
rayse hymselfe distraughte[65],
He loketh wythe an eie of
flames of fyre.
Goe, sticke the lyonn to hys
hyltren denne. 65
Lette thie floes[66] drenche the blood
of anie thynge botte menn.
Wythe passent[67] steppe the
lyonn mov’th alonge;
Wyllyamm hys ironne-woven
bowe hee bendes,
Wythe myghte alyche the roghlynge[68]
thonderr stronge;
The lyonn ynn a roare hys
spryte foorthe sendes. 70
Goe, slea the lyonn ynn hys
blodde-steyn’d denne,
Botte bee thie takelle[69] drie fromm
blodde of odherr menne.
Swefte fromm the thyckett
starks the stagge awaie;
The couraciers[70] as swefte
doe afterr flie.
Hee lepethe hie, hee stondes,
hee kepes att baie, 75
Botte metes the arrowe, and
eftsoones[71] doth die.
Forslagenn atte thie fote
lette wylde beastes bee,
Lett thie floes drenche yer blodde, yett
do ne bredrenn slee.
Wythe murtherr tyredd, hee
sleynges hys bowe alyne[72].
The stagge ys ouch’d[73]
wythe crownes of lillie flowerrs. 80
Arounde theire heaulmes theie
greene verte doe entwyne;
Joying and rev’lous
ynn the grene wode bowerrs.
Forslagenn wyth thie floe
lette wylde beastes bee,
Feeste thee upponne theire fleshe, doe
ne thie bredrenn flee.
KYNGE.
Nowe to the Tourneie[74]; who wylle fyrste affraie[75]? 85
HERAULDE.
Nevylle, a baronne, bee yatte[76] honnoure thyne.
BOURTONNE.
I clayme the passage.
NEVYLLE.
I contake[77] thie waie.
BOURTONNE.
Thenn there’s mie gauntlette[78] onn mie gaberdyne[79].
HEREHAULDE.
A leegefull[80] challenge, knyghtes
& champyonns dygne[81],
A leegefull challenge, lette the flugghorne sounde.
90
[Syrr Symonne and
Nevylle tylte.
Nevylle ys goeynge, manne and horse, toe grounde.
[Nevylle
falls.
Loverdes, how doughtilie[82] the tylterrs joyne!
Yee champyonnes, heere Symonne de Bourtonne fyghtes,
Onne hee hathe quacedd[83], assayle[84] hymm, yee
knyghtes.
FERRARIS.
I wylle anente[85] hymm goe; mie squierr, mie shielde; 95
Orr onne orr odherr wyll doe myckle[86] scethe[87]
Before I doe departe the lissedd[88] fielde,
Mieselfe orr Bourtonne hereupponn wyll blethe[89].
Mie shielde.
BOURTONNE.
Comme onne, &
fitte thie tylte-launce ethe[90].
Whanne Bourtonn fyghtes, hee
metes a doughtie foe. 100
[Theie
tylte. Ferraris falleth.
Hee falleth; nowe bie heavenne
thie woundes doe smethe[91];
I feere mee, I have wroughte
thee myckle woe[92].
HERAWDE.
Bourtonne hys seconde beereth
to the feelde.
Comme onn, yee knyghtes, and wynn the
honnour’d sheeld.
BERGHAMME.
I take the challenge; squyre,
mie launce and stede. 105
I, Bourtonne, take the gauntlette;
forr mee staie.
Botte, gyff thou fyghteste
mee, thou shalt have mede[93];
Somme odherr I wylle champyonn
toe affraie[94];
Perchaunce fromme hemm I maie
possess the daie,
Thenn I schalle bee a foemanne
forr thie spere. 110
Herehawde, toe the bankes
of Knyghtys saie,
De Berghamme wayteth forr
a foemann heere.
CLINTON.
Botte longe thou schalte ne tend[95];
I doe thee fie[96].
Lyche forreying[97] levynn[98], schalle mie tylte-launce
flie.
[Berghamme & Clinton tylte. Clinton
fallethe.
BERGHAMME.
Nowe, nowe, Syrr Knyghte, attoure[99] thie beeveredd[100] eyne.
I have borne downe, and este[101] doe gauntlette thee.
Swythenne[102] begynne, and wrynn[103] thie shappe[104] orr myne;
Gyff thou dyscomfytte, ytt wylle dobblie bee.
[Bourtonne & Burghamm tylteth. Berghamme falls.
HERAWDE.
Symonne de Bourtonne haveth
borne downe three,
And bie the thyrd hathe honnoure
of a fourthe. 120
Lett hymm bee sett asyde,
tylle hee doth see
A tyltynge forr a knyghte
of gentle wourthe.
Heere commethe straunge knyghtes;
gyff corteous[105] heie[106],
Ytt welle beseies[107] to
yeve[108] hemm ryghte of fraie[109].
FIRST KNYGHTE.
Straungerrs wee bee, and homblie doe wee clayme 125
The rennome[110] ynn thys Tourneie[111] forr to tylte;
Dherbie to proove fromm cravents[112] owre goode name,
Bewrynnynge[113] thatt wee gentile blodde have spylte.
HEREHAWDE.
Yee knyghtes of cortesie, these
straungerrs, saie,
Bee you fulle wyllynge forr to yeve hemm fraie?
130
[Fyve Knyghtes tylteth wythe the straunge
Knyghte, and bee
everichone[114] overthrowne.
BOURTONNE.
Nowe bie Seyncte Marie, gyff onn all the fielde
Ycrasedd[115] speres and helmetts bee besprente[116],
Gyff everyche knyghte dydd houlde a piercedd[117] sheeld,
Gyff all the feelde wythe champyonne blodde bee stente[118],
Yett toe encounterr hymm I bee contente. 135
Annodherr launce, Marshalle, anodherr launce.
Albeytte hee wythe lowes[119] of fyre ybrente[120],
Yett Bourtonne woulde agenste hys val[121] advance.
Fyve haveth fallenn downe anethe[122] hys speere,
Botte hee schalle bee the next thatt falleth heere. 140
Bie thee, Seyncte Marie, and
thy Sonne I sweare,
Thatt ynn whatte place yonn
doughtie knyghte shall fall
Anethe[123] the stronge push
of mie straught[124] out speere,
There schalle aryse a hallie[125]
chyrches walle,
The whyche, ynn honnoure,
I wylle Marye calle, 145
Wythe pillars large, and spyre
full hyghe and rounde.
And thys I faifullie[126]
wylle stonde to all,
Gyff yonderr straungerr falleth
to the grounde.
Straungerr, bee boune[127];
I champyonn[128] you to warre.
Sounde, sounde the flughornes,
to bee hearde fromm farre. 150
[Bourtonne & the
Straungerr tylt. Straunger falleth.
KYNGE.
The Mornynge Tyltes now cease.
HERAWDE.
Bourtonne
ys kynge.
Dysplaie the Englyshe bannorre
onn the tente;
Rounde hymm, yee mynstrelles,
songs of achments[129] synge;
Yee Herawdes, getherr upp
the speeres besprente[130];
To Kynge of Tourney-tylte
bee all knees bente. 155
Dames faire and gentle, forr
youre loves hee foughte;
Forr you the longe tylte-launce,
the swerde hee shente[131];
Hee joustedd, alleine[132]
havynge you ynn thoughte.
Comme, mynstrelles, sound
the strynge, goe onn eche syde,
Whylest hee untoe the Kynge
ynn state doe ryde. 160
MYNSTRELLES.
Whann Battayle, smethynge[133]
wythe new quickenn’d gore,
Bendynge wythe spoiles, and
bloddie droppynge hedde,
Dydd the merke[134] woode
of ethe[135] and rest explore,
Seekeynge to lie onn Pleasures
downie bedde,
Pleasure, dauncyng
fromm her wode, 165
Wreathedd wythe
floures of aiglintine,
Fromm hys vysage
washedd the bloude,
Hylte[136] hys
swerde and gaberdyne.
Wythe syke an eyne shee swotelie[137]
hymm dydd view,
Dydd foe ycorvenn[138] everrie
shape to joie, 170
Hys spryte dydd chaunge untoe
anodherr hue,
Hys armes, ne spoyles, mote
anie thoughts emploie.
All delyghtsomme
and contente,
Fyre enshotynge[139]
fromm hys eyne,
Ynn hys arms hee
dydd herr hente[140],
175
Lyche the merk[141]-plante
doe entwyne.
Soe, gyff thou
lovest Pleasure and herr trayne,
Onknowlachynge[142]
ynn whatt place herr to fynde,
Thys rule yspende[143],
and ynn thie mynde retayne;
Seeke Honnoure
fyrste, and Pleasaunce lies behynde.
180
[Footnote 1: sport, or play.]
[Footnote 2: bounded, or measured.]
[Footnote 3: curiously devised.]
[Footnote 4: fancys or devices.]
[Footnote 5: painted, or displayed.]
[Footnote 6: fiery.]
[Footnote 7: ornamented, enameled.]
[Footnote 8: a young lion.]
[Footnote 9: drawings, paintings.]
[Footnote 10: that.]
[Footnote 11: soul.]
[Footnote 11: dispenser.]
[Footnote 12: quickly.]
[Footnote 13: give.]
[Footnote 14: armer.]
[Footnote 15: burnish.]
[Footnote 16: many.]
[Footnote 17: young, weak, tender.]
[Footnote 18: grows.]
[Footnote 19: body.]
[Footnote 20: nothing.]
[Footnote 21: alone.]
[Footnote 22: so.]
[Footnote 23: herald.]
[Footnote 24: a contraction of them.]
[Footnote 25: Guie de Sancto Egidio, the most famous tilter of his age.]
[Footnote 26: William Rufus.]
[Footnote 27: run.]
[Footnote 28: against.]
[Footnote 29: feeble.]
[Footnote 30: honour, glory.]
[Footnote 31: useless.]
[Footnote 32: a kind of claryon.]
[Footnote 33: sound.]
[Footnote 34: quickly.]
[Footnote 35: ready.]
[Footnote 36: soon.]
[Footnote 37: command.]
[Footnote 38: most.]
[Footnote 39: fate, or doom.]
[Footnote 40: against.]
[Footnote 41: pitched, or bent down.]
[Footnote 42: drink.]
[Footnote 43: servants, attendants.]
[Footnote 44: song, or ballad.]
[Footnote 45: activity.]
[Footnote 46: joined (1842; left blank in 1777 and 1778)]
[Footnote 46: bent.]
[Footnote 47: burnished.]
[Footnote 48: commanding.]
[Footnote 49: servants.]
[Footnote 50: hidden.]
[Footnote 51: arrows.]
[Footnote 52: worked with iron.]
[Footnote 53: bends.]
[Footnote 54: sounds.]
[Footnote 55: loudly.]
[Footnote 56: dark, or gloome.]
[Footnote 57 & 58: frighted owl.]
[Footnote 59: marked with evening dew.]
[Footnote 60: standing on their hind legs.]
[Footnote 61: venemous.]
[Footnote 62: adders.]
[Footnote 63: hot, sultry.]
[Footnote 64: sound, noise.]
[Footnote 65: distracted.]
[Footnote 66: arrows.]
[Footnote 67: walking leisurely.]
[Footnote 68: rolling.]
[Footnote 69: arrow.]
[Footnote 70: horse coursers.]
[Footnote 71: full soon.]
[Footnote 72: across his shoulders.]
[Footnote 73: garlands of flowers being put round the neck of the game, it was said to be ouch’d, from ouch, a chain, worn by earls round their necks.]
[Footnote 74: Turnament.]
[Footnote 75: fight, or encounter.]
[Footnote 76: that.]
[Footnote 77: dispute.]
[Footnote 78: glove.]
[Footnote 79: a piece of armour.]
[Footnote 80: lawful.]
[Footnote 81: worthy.]
[Footnote 82: furiously.]
[Footnote 83: vanquished.]
[Footnote 84: oppose.]
[Footnote 85: against.]
[Footnote 86: much.]
[Footnote 87: damage, mischief.]
[Footnote 88: bounded.]
[Footnote 89: bleed.]
[Footnote 90: easy.]
[Footnote 91: smoke.]
[Footnote 92: hurt, or damage.]
[Footnote 93: reward.]
[Footnote 94: fight or engage.]
[Footnote 95: attend or wait.]
[Footnote 96: defy.]
[Footnote 97 & 98: destroying lightening.]
[Footnote 99: turn.]
[Footnote 100: beaver’d.]
[Footnote 101: again.]
[Footnote 102: quickly.]
[Footnote 103: declare.]
[Footnote 104: fate.]
[Footnote 105: worthy.]
[Footnote 106: they.]
[Footnote 107: becomes.]
[Footnote 108: give.]
[Footnote 109: fyght.]
[Footnote 110: honour.]
[Footnote 111: Tournament.]
[Footnote 112: cowards.]
[Footnote 113: declaring.]
[Footnote 114: every one.]
[Footnote 115: broken, split.]
[Footnote 116: scatter’d.]
[Footnote 117: broken, or pierced through with darts.]
[Footnote 118: stained.]
[Footnote 119: flames.]
[Footnote 120: burnt.]
[Footnote 121: healm.]
[Footnote 122: beneath.]
[Footnote 123: against.]
[Footnote 124: stretched out.]
[Footnote 125: holy.]
[Footnote 126: faithfully.]
[Footnote 127: ready.]
[Footnote 128: challenge.]
[Footnote 129: atchievements, glorious actions.]
[Footnote 130: broken spears.]
[Footnote 131: broke, destroyed.]
[Footnote 132: only, alone.]
[Footnote 133: smoaking, steaming.]
[Footnote 134: dark, gloomy.]
[Footnote 135: ease.]
[Footnote 136: hid, secreted.]
[Footnote 137: sweetly.]
[Footnote 138: moulded.]
[Footnote 139: shooting, darting.]
[Footnote 140: grasp, hold.]
[Footnote 141: night-shade.]
[Footnote 142: ignorant, unknowing.]
[Footnote 143: consider.]
OR THE DETHE OF
SYR CHARLES BAWDIN.
The featherd songster chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne,
And tolde the earlie villager
The commynge of the morne:
Kynge EDWARDE sawe the ruddie streakes
5
Of lyghte eclypse the greie;
And herde the raven’s crokynge throte
Proclayme the fated daie.
“Thou’rt ryght,” quod
hee, “for, by the Godde
That syttes enthron’d
on hyghe! 10
CHARLES BAWDIN, and hys fellowes twaine,
To-daie shall surelie die.”
Thenne wythe a jugge of nappy ale
Hys Knyghtes dydd onne hymm
waite;
“Goe tell the traytour, thatt to-daie
15
Hee leaves thys mortall state.”
Syr CANTERLOUE thenne bendedd lowe,
Wythe harte brymm-fulle of
woe;
Hee journey’d to the castle-gate,
And to Syr CHARLES dydd goe.
20
Butt whenne hee came, hys children twaine,
And eke hys lovynge wyfe,
Wythe brinie tears dydd wett the floore,
For goode Syr CHARLESES lyfe.
“O goode Syr CHARLES!” sayd
CANTERLOUE, 25
“Badde tydyngs I doe
brynge.”
“Speke boldlie, manne,” sayd
brave Syr CHARLES,
“Whatte says thie traytor
kynge?”
“I greeve to telle, before yonne
sonne
Does fromme the welkinn flye,
30
Hee hath uponne hys honour sworne,
Thatt thou shalt surelie die.”
“Wee all must die,” quod brave
Syr CHARLES;
“Of thatte I’m
not affearde;
Whatte bootes to lyve a little space?
35
Thanke JESU, I’m prepar’d.”
“Butt telle thye kynge, for myne
hee’s not,
I’de sooner die to-daie
Thanne lyve hys slave, as manie are,
Tho’ I shoulde lyve
for aie.”
40
Thenne CANTERLOUE hee dydd goe out,
To telle the maior straite
To gett all thynges ynne reddyness
For goode Syr CHARLESES fate.
Thenne Maisterr CANYNGE saughte the kynge,
45
And felle down onne hys knee;
“I’m come,” quod hee,
“unto your grace
To move your clemencye.”
Thenne quod the kynge, “Youre tale
speke out,
You have been much oure friende;
50
Whatever youre request may bee,
Wee wylle to ytte attende.”
“My nobile leige! alle my request
Ys for a nobile knyghte,
Who, tho’ may hap hee has donne
wronge, 55
He thoghte ytte stylle was
ryghte.”
“Hee has a spouse and children twaine,
Alle rewyn’d are for
aie;
Yff thatt you are resolv’d to lett
CHARLES BAWDIN die to-daie.”
60
“Speke nott of such a traytour vile,”
The kynge ynne furie sayde;
“Before the evening starre doth
sheene,
BAWDIN shall loose hys hedde.”
“Justice does loudlie for hym calle,
65
And hee shalle have hys meede:
Speke, Maister CANYNGE! Whatte thynge
else
Att present doe you neede?”
“My nobile leige!” goode CANYNGE
sayde,
“Leave justice to our
Godde, 70
And laye the yronne rule asyde;
Be thyne the olyve rodde.”
“Was Godde to serche our hertes
and reines,
The best were synners grete;
CHRIST’S vycarr only knowes ne synne,
75
Ynne alle thys mortall state.”
“Lett mercie rule thyne infante
reigne,
’Twylle faste thye crowne
fulle sure;
From race to race thy familie
Alle sov’reigns shall
endure.”
80
“But yff wythe bloode and slaughter
thou
Beginne thy infante reigne,
Thy crowne uponne thy childrennes brows
Wylle never long remayne.”
“CANYNGE, awaie! thys traytour vile
85
Has scorn’d my power
and mee;
Howe canst thou thenne for such a manne
Intreate my clemencye?”
“My nobile leige! the trulie brave
Wylle val’rous actions
prize, 90
Respect a brave and nobile mynde,
Altho’ ynne enemies.”
“CANYNGE, awaie! By Godde ynne
Heav’n
Thatt dydd mee beinge gyve,
I wylle nott taste a bitt of breade
95
Whilst thys Syr CHARLES dothe
lyve.”
“By MARIE, and alle Seinctes ynne
Heav’n,
Thys sunne shall be hys laste.”
Thenne CANYNGE dropt a brinie teare,
And from the presence paste.
100
Wyth herte brymm-fulle of gnawynge grief,
Hee to Syr CHARLES dydd goe,
And satt hymm downe uponne a stoole,
And teares beganne to flowe.
“Wee all must die,” quod brave
Syr CHARLES; 105
“Whatte bootes ytte
howe or whenne;
Dethe ys the sure, the certaine fate
Of all wee mortall menne.
“Saye why, my friend, thie honest
soul
Runns overr att thyne eye;
110
Is ytte for my most welcome doome
Thatt thou dost child-lyke
crye?”
Quod godlie CANYNGE, “I doe weepe,
Thatt thou so soone must dye,
And leave thy sonnes and helpless wyfe;
115
’Tys thys thatt wettes
myne eye.”
“Thenne drie the tears thatt out
thyne eye
From godlie fountaines sprynge;
Dethe I despise, and alle the power
Of EDWARDE, traytor kynge.
120
“Whan throgh the tyrant’s
welcom means
I shall resigne my lyfe,
The Godde I serve wylle soone provyde
For bothe mye sonnes and wyfe.
“Before I sawe the lyghtsome sunne,
125
Thys was appointed mee;
Shall mortal manne repyne or grudge
Whatt Godde ordeynes to bee?
“Howe oft ynne battaile have I stoode,
Whan thousands dy’d
arounde; 130
Whan smokynge streemes of crimson bloode
Imbrew’d the fatten’d
grounde:
“How dydd I knowe thatt ev’ry
darte,
Thatt cutte the airie waie,
Myghte nott fynde passage toe my harte,
135
And close myne eyes for aie?
“And shall I nowe, forr feere of
dethe,
Looke wanne and bee dysmayde?
Ne! fromm my herte flie childyshe feere,
Bee alle the manne display’d.
140
“Ah, goddelyke HENRIE! Godde
forefende,
And guarde thee and thye sonne,
Yff ’tis hys wylle; but yff ’tis
nott,
Why thenne hys wylle bee donne.
“My honest friende, my faulte has
beene 145
To serve Godde and mye prynce;
And thatt I no tyme-server am,
My dethe wylle soone convynce.
“Ynne Londonne citye was I borne,
Of parents of grete note;
150
My fadre dydd a nobile armes
Emblazon onne hys cote:
“I make ne doubte butt hee ys gone
Where soone I hope to goe;
Where wee for ever shall bee blest,
155
From oute the reech of woe:
“Hee taughte mee justice and the
laws
Wyth pitie to unite;
And eke hee taughte mee howe to knowe
The wronge cause fromm the
ryghte: 160
“Hee taughte mee wythe a prudent
hande
To feede the hungrie poore,
Ne lett mye sarvants dryve awaie
The hungrie fromme my doore:
“And none can saye, butt alle mye
lyfe 165
I have hys wordyes kept;
And summ’d the actyonns of the daie
Eche nyghte before I slept.
“I have a spouse, goe aske of her,
Yff I defyl’d her bedde?
170
I have a kynge, and none can laie
Blacke treason onne my hedde.
“Ynne Lent, and onne the holie eve,
Fromm fleshe I dydd refrayne;
Whie should I thenne appeare dismay’d
175
To leave thys worlde of payne?
“Ne! hapless HENRIE! I rejoyce,
I shalle ne see thye dethe;
Moste willynglie ynne thye just cause
Doe I resign my brethe.
180
“Oh, fickle people! rewyn’d
londe!
Thou wylt kenne peace ne moe;
Whyle RICHARD’S sonnes exalt themselves,
Thye brookes wythe bloude
wylle flowe.
“Saie, were ye tyr’d of godlie
peace, 185
And godlie HENRIE’S
reigne,
Thatt you dydd choppe youre easie daies
For those of bloude and peyne?
“Whatte tho’ I onne a sledde
bee drawne,
And mangled by a hynde,
190
I doe defye the traytor’s pow’r,
Hee can ne harm my mynde;
“Whatte tho’, uphoisted onne
a pole,
Mye lymbes shall rotte ynne
ayre,
And ne ryche monument of brasse
195
CHARLES BAWDIN’S name
shall bear;
“Yett ynne the holie booke above,
Whyche tyme can’t eate
awaie,
There wythe the sarvants of the Lorde
Mye name shall lyve for aie.
200
“Thenne welcome dethe! for lyfe
eterne
I leave thys mortall lyfe:
Farewell, vayne worlde, and alle that’s
deare,
Mye sonnes and lovynge wyfe!
“Nowe dethe as welcome to mee comes,
205
As e’er the moneth of
Maie;
Nor woulde I even wyshe to lyve,
Wyth my dere wyfe to staie.”
Quod CANYNGE, “’Tys a goodlie
thynge
To bee prepar’d to die;
210
And from thys world of peyne and grefe
To Godde ynne Heav’n
to flie.”
And nowe the bell beganne to tolle,
And claryonnes to sounde;
Syr CHARLES hee herde the horses feete
215
A prauncyng onne the grounde:
And just before the officers,
His lovynge wyfe came ynne,
Weepynge unfeigned teeres of woe,
Wythe loude and dysmalle dynne.
220
“Sweet FLORENCE! nowe I praie forbere,
Ynne quiet lett mee die;
Praie Godde, thatt ev’ry Christian
soule
Maye looke onne dethe as I.
“Sweet FLORENCE! why these brinie
teeres? 225
Theye washe my soule awaie,
And almost make mee wyshe for lyfe,
Wyth thee, sweete dame, to
staie.
“’Tys butt a journie I shalle
goe
Untoe the lande of blysse;
230
Nowe, as a proofe of husbande’s
love,
Receive thys holie kysse.”
Thenne FLORENCE, fault’ring ynne
her saie,
Tremblynge these wordyes spoke,
“Ah, cruele EDWARDE! bloudie kynge!
235
My herte ys welle nyghe broke:
“Ah, sweete Syr CHARLES! why wylt
thou goe,
Wythoute thye lovynge wyfe?
The cruelle axe thatt cuttes thye necke,
Ytte eke shall ende mye lyfe.”
240
And nowe the officers came ynne
To brynge Syr CHARLES awaie,
Whoe turnedd toe his lovynge wyfe,
And thus toe her dydd saie:
“I goe to lyfe, and nott to dethe;
245
Truste thou ynne Godde above,
And teache thye sonnes to feare the Lorde,
And ynne theyre hertes hym
love:
“Teache them to runne the nobile
race
Thatt I theyre fader runne:
250
FLORENCE! shou’d dethe thee take—adieu!
Yee officers, leade onne.”
Thenne FLORENCE rav’d as anie madde,
And dydd her tresses tere;
“Oh! staie, mye husbande! lorde!
and lyfe!”—
255
Syr CHARLES thenne dropt a
teare.
’Tyll tyredd oute wythe ravynge
loud,
Shee fellen onne the flore;
Syr CHARLES exerted alle hys myghte,
And march’d fromm oute
the dore. 260
Uponne a sledde hee mounted thenne,
Wythe lookes fulle brave and
swete;
Lookes, thatt enshone ne moe concern
Thanne anie ynne the strete.
Before hym went the council-menne,
265
Ynne scarlett robes and golde,
And tassils spanglynge ynne the sunne,
Muche glorious to beholde:
The Freers of Seincte AUGUSTYNE next
Appeared to the syghte,
270
Alle cladd ynne homelie russett weedes,
Of godlie monkysh plyghte:
Ynne diffraunt partes a godlie psaume
Moste sweetlie theye dydd
chaunt;
Behynde theyre backes syx mynstrelles
came, 275
Who tun’d the strunge
bataunt.
Thenne fyve-and-twentye archers came;
Echone the bowe dydd bende,
From rescue of kynge HENRIES friends
Syr CHARLES forr to defend.
280
Bolde as a lyon came Syr CHARLES,
Drawne onne a clothe-layde
sledde,
Bye two blacke stedes ynne trappynges
white,
Wyth plumes uponne theyre
hedde:
Behynde hym fyve-and-twentye moe
285
Of archers stronge and stoute,
Wyth bended bowe echone ynne hande,
Marched ynne goodlie route:
Seincte JAMESES Freers marched next,
Echone hys parte dydd chaunt;
290
Behynde theyre backs syx mynstrelles came,
Who tun’d the strunge
bataunt:
Thenne came the maior and eldermenne,
Ynne clothe of scarlett deck’t;
And theyre attendyng menne echone,
295
Lyke Easterne princes trickt:
And after them, a multitude
Of citizenns dydd thronge;
The wyndowes were alle fulle of heddes,
As hee dydd passe alonge.
300
And whenne hee came to the hyghe crosse,
Syr CHARLES dydd turne and
saie,
“O Thou, thatt savest manne fromme
synne,
Washe mye soule clean thys
daie!”
Att the grete mynsterr wyndowe sat
305
The kynge ynne myckle state,
To see CHARLES BAWDIN goe alonge
To hys most welcom fate.
Soone as the sledde drewe nyghe enowe,
Thatt EDWARDE hee myghte heare,
310
The brave Syr CHARLES hee dydd stande
uppe,
And thus hys wordes declare:
“Thou seest mee, EDWARDE! traytour
vile!
Expos’d to infamie;
Butt bee assur’d, disloyall manne!
315
I’m greaterr nowe thanne
thee.
“Bye foule proceedyngs, murdre,
bloude,
Thou wearest nowe a crowne;
And hast appoynted mee to dye,
By power nott thyne owne.
320
“Thou thynkest I shall dye to-daie;
I have beene dede ’till
nowe,
And soone shall lyve to weare a crowne
For aie uponne my browe:
“Whylst thou, perhapps, for som
few yeares, 325
Shalt rule thys fickle lande,
To lett them knowe howe wyde the rule
’Twixt kynge and tyrant
hande:
“Thye pow’r unjust, thou traytour
slave!
Shall falle onne thye owne
hedde”—
330
Fromm out of hearyng of the kynge
Departed thenne the sledde.
Kynge EDWARDE’S soule rush’d
to hys face,
Hee turn’d hys hedde
awaie,
And to hys broder GLOUCESTER
335
Hee thus dydd speke and saie:
“To hym that soe-much-dreaded dethe
Ne ghastlie terrors brynge,
Beholde the manne! hee spake the truthe,
Hee’s greater thanne
a kynge!”
340
“Soe lett hym die!” Duke RICHARD
sayde;
“And maye echone oure
foes
Bende downe theyre neckes to bloudie axe,
And feede the carryon crowes.”
And nowe the horses gentlie drewe
345
Syr CHARLES uppe the hyghe
hylle;
The axe dydd glysterr ynne the sunne,
Hys pretious bloude to spylle.
Syrr CHARLES dydd uppe the scaffold goe,
As uppe a gilded carre
350
Of victorye, bye val’rous chiefs
Gayn’d ynne the bloudie
warre:
And to the people hee dydd saie,
“Beholde you see mee
dye,
For servynge loyally mye kynge,
355
Mye kynge most rightfullie.
“As longe as EDWARDE rules thys
lande,
Ne quiet you wylle knowe;
Youre sonnes and husbandes shalle bee
slayne.
And brookes wythe bloude shalle
flowe. 360
“You leave youre goode and lawfulle
kynge.
Whenne ynne adversitye;
Lyke mee, untoe the true cause stycke,
And for the true cause dye.”
Thenne hee, wyth preestes, uponne hys
knees, 365
A pray’r to Godde dydd
make,
Beseechynge hym unto hymselfe
Hys partynge soule to take.
Thenne, kneelynge downe, hee layd hys
hedde
Most seemlie onne the blocke;
370
Whyche fromme hys bodie fayre at once
The able heddes-manne stroke:
And oute the bloude beganne to flowe,
And rounde the scaffolde twyne;
And teares, enow to washe’t awaie,
375
Dydd flowe fromme each mann’s
eyne.
The bloudie axe hys bodie fayre
Ynnto foure parties cutte;
And ev’rye parte, and eke hys hedde,
Uponne a pole was putte.
380
One parte dydd rotte onne Kynwulph-hylle,
One onne the mynster-tower,
And one from off the castle-gate
The crowen dydd devoure:
The other onne Seyncte Powle’s goode
gate, 385
A dreery spectacle;
Hys hedde was plac’d onne the hyghe
crosse,
Ynne hyghe-streete most nobile.
Thus was the ende of BAWDIN’S fate:
Godde prosper longe oure kynge,
390
And grante hee maye, wyth BAWDIN’S
soule,
Ynne heav’n Godd’s
mercie synge!
AELLA:
A
TRAGYCAL ENTERLUDE,
OR
DISCOORSEYNGE TRAGEDIE,
WROTENN BIE
THOMAS ROWLEIE;
PLAIEDD BEFORE
MASTRE CANYNGE, ATTE HYS HOWSE NEMPTE THE RODDE LODGE;
[ALSOE BEFORE THE DUKE OF NORFOLCK, JOHAN HOWARD.]
AELLA, bie Thomas Rowleie, Preeste, the Aucthoure.
CELMONDE, Johan Iscamm, Preeste.
HURRA, Syrr Thybbotte Gorges, Knyghte.
BIRTHA, Mastre Edwarde Canynge.
Odherr Partes bie Knyghtes Mynstrelles.
EPISTLE TO MASTRE CANYNGE ON AELLA.
’Tys songe bie mynstrelles, thatte
yn auntyent tym,
Whan Reasonn hylt[1] herselfe in cloudes
of nyghte,
The preeste delyvered alle
the lege[2] yn rhym;
Lyche peyncted[3] tyltynge
speares to please the syghte,
The whyche yn yttes felle
use doe make moke[4] dere[5], 5
Syke dyd theire auncyante lee deftlie[6]
delyghte the eare.
Perchaunce yn Vyrtues gare[7]
rhym mote bee thenne,
Butt eefte[8] nowe flyeth
to the odher syde;
In hallie[9] preeste apperes
the ribaudes[10] penne,
Inne lithie[11] moncke apperes
the barronnes pryde: 10
But rhym wythe somme, as nedere[12]
widhout teethe,
Make pleasaunce to the sense, botte maie
do lyttel scathe[13].
Syr Johne, a knyghte, who
hath a barne of lore[14],
Kenns[15] Latyn att fyrst
syghte from Frenche or Greke,
Pyghtethe[16] hys knowlachynge[17]
ten yeres or more, 15
To rynge upon the Latynne
worde to speke.
Whoever spekethe Englysch
ys despysed,
The Englysch hym to please moste fyrste
be latynized.
Vevyan, a moncke, a good requiem[18]
synges;
Can preache so wele, eche
hynde[19] hys meneynge knowes 20
Albeytte these gode guyfts
awaie he flynges,
Beeynge as badde yn vearse
as goode yn prose.
Hee synges of seynctes who
dyed for yer Godde,
Everych wynter nyghte afresche he sheddes
theyr blodde.
To maydens, huswyfes, and
unlored[20] dames, 25
Hee redes hys tales of merryment
& woe.
Loughe[21] loudlie dynneth[22]
from the dolte[23] adrames[24];
He swelles on laudes of fooles,
tho’ kennes[25] hem soe.
Sommetyme at tragedie theie
laughe and synge,
At merrie yaped[26] fage[27] somme hard-drayned
water brynge. 30
Yette Vevyan ys ne foole,
beyinde[28] hys lynes.
Geofroie makes vearse, as
handycraftes theyr ware;
Wordes wythoute sense fulle
grossyngelye[29] he twynes,
Cotteynge hys storie off as
wythe a sheere;
Waytes monthes on nothynge,
& hys storie donne, 35
Ne moe you from ytte kenn, than gyf[30]
you neere begonne.
Enowe of odhers; of mieselfe
to write,
Requyrynge whatt I doe notte
nowe possess,
To you I leave the taske;
I kenne your myghte
Wyll make mie faultes, mie
meynte[31] of faultes, be less. 40
AELLA wythe thys I sende,
and hope that you
Wylle from ytte caste awaie, whatte lynes
maie be untrue.
Playes made from hallie[32]
tales I holde unmeete;
Lette somme greate storie
of a manne be songe;
Whanne, as a manne, we Godde
and Jesus treate, 45
In mie pore mynde, we doe
the Godhedde wronge.
Botte lette ne wordes, whyche
droorie[33] mote ne heare,
Bee placed yn the same. Adieu untylle
anere[34].
THOMAS ROWLEIE.
[Footnote 1: hid, concealed.]
[Footnote 2: law.]
[Footnote 3: painted.]
[Footnote 4: much.]
[Footnote 5: hurt, damage.]
[Footnote 6: sweetly.]
[Footnote 7: cause.]
[Footnote 8: oft.]
[Footnote 9: holy.]
[Footnote 10: rake, lewd person.]
[Footnote 11: humble.]
[Footnote 12: adder.]
[Footnote 13: hurt, damage.]
[Footnote 14: learning.]
[Footnote 15: knows.]
[Footnote 16: plucks or tortures.]
[Footnote 17: knowledge.]
[Footnote 18: a service used over the dead.]
[Footnote 19: peasant.]
[Footnote 20: unlearned.]
[Footnote 21: laugh.]
[Footnote 22: sounds.]
[Footnote 23: foolish.]
[Footnote 24: churls.]
[Footnote 25: knows.]
[Footnote 26: laughable.]
[Footnote 27: tale, jest.]
[Footnote 28: beyond.]
[Footnote 29: foolishly.]
[Footnote 30: if.]
[Footnote 31: many.]
[Footnote 32: holy.]
[Footnote 33: strange perversion of words. Droorie in its antient signification stood for modesty.]
[Footnote 34: another.]
Straunge dome ytte ys, that,
yn these daies of oures,
Nete[35] butte a bare recytalle
can hav place;
Nowe shapelie poesie hast
loste yttes powers,
And pynant hystorie ys onlie
grace;
Heie[36] pycke up wolsome
weedes, ynstedde of flowers, 5
And famylies, ynstedde of
wytte, theie trace;
Nowe poesie canne meete wythe
ne regrate[37],
Whylste prose, & herehaughtrie[38],
ryse yn estate.
Lette kynges, & rulers, whan
heie gayne a throne,
Shewe whatt theyre grandsieres,
& great grandsieres bore, 10
Emarschalled armes, yatte,
ne before theyre owne,
Now raung’d wythe whatt
yeir fadres han before;
Lette trades, & toune folck,
lett syke[39] thynges alone,
Ne fyghte for sable yn a fielde
of aure;
Seldomm, or never, are armes
vyrtues mede, 15
Shee nillynge[40] to take
myckle[41] aie dothe hede.
A man ascaunse upponn a piece
maye looke,
And shake hys hedde to styrre
hys rede[42] aboute;
Quod he, gyf I askaunted oere
thys booke,
Schulde fynde thereyn that
trouthe ys left wythoute; 20
Eke, gyf[43] ynto a vew percase[44]
I tooke
The long beade-rolle of al
the wrytynge route,
Asserius, Ingolphus, Torgotte,
Bedde,
Thorow hem[45] al nete lyche
ytte I coulde rede.—
Pardon, yee Graiebarbes[46],
gyff I saie, onwise 25
Yee are, to stycke so close
& bysmarelie[47]
To hystorie; you doe ytte
tooe moche pryze,
Whyche amenused[48] thoughtes
of poesie;
Somme drybblette[49] share
you shoulde to yatte[50] alyse[51],
Nott makynge everyche thynge
bee hystorie; 30
Instedde of mountynge onn
a wynged horse,
You onn a rouncy[52] dryve
yn dolefull course.
Cannynge & I from common course
dyssente;
Wee ryde the stede, botte
yev to hym the reene;
Ne wylle betweene crased molterynge
bookes be pente, 35
Botte soare on hyghe, & yn
the sonne-bemes sheene;
And where wee kenn somme ishad[53]
floures besprente,
We take ytte, & from oulde
rouste doe ytte clene;
Wee wylle ne cheynedd to one
pasture bee,
Botte sometymes soare ’bove
trouthe of hystorie. 40
Saie, Canynge, whatt was vearse
yn daies of yore?
Fyne thoughtes, and couplettes
fetyvelie[54] bewryen[55],
Notte syke as doe annoie thys
age so sore,
A keppened poyntelle[56] restynge
at eche lyne.
Vearse maie be goode, botte
poesie wantes more, 45
An onlist[57] lecturn[58],
and a songe adygne[59];
Accordynge to the rule I have
thys wroughte,
Gyff ytt please Canynge, I
care notte a groate.
The thynge yttself moste bee
ytts owne defense;
Som metre maie notte please
a womannes ear. 50
Canynge lookes notte for poesie,
botte sense;
And dygne, & wordie thoughtes,
ys all hys care.
Canynge, adieu! I do
you greete from hence;
Full soone I hope to taste
of your good cheere;
Goode Byshoppe Carpynter dyd
byd mee saie, 55
Hee wysche you healthe & selinesse
for aie.
T. ROWLEIE.
[Footnote 35: nought.]
[Footnote 36: they.]
[Footnote 37: esteem.]
[Footnote 38: heraldry.]
[Footnote 39: such.]
[Footnote 40: unwilling.]
[Footnote 41: much.]
[Footnote 42: wisdom, council.]
[Footnote 43: if.]
[Footnote 44: perchance.]
[Footnote 45: them.]
[Footnote 46: Greybeards.]
[Footnote 47: curiously.]
[Footnote 48: lessened.]
[Footnote 49: small.]
[Footnote 50: that.]
[Footnote 51: allow.]
[Footnote 52: cart-horse.]
[Editor’s note: ll. 15-16 See Introduction p. xli]
[Footnote 53: broken.]
[Footnote 54: elegantly.]
[Footnote 55: declared, expressed.]
[Footnote 56: a pen, used metaphorically, as a muse or genius.]
[Footnote 57: boundless.]
[Footnote 58: subject.]
[Footnote 59: nervous, worthy of praise.]
Somme cherisounce[60] it ys
to gentle mynde,
Whan heie have chevyced[61]
theyre londe from bayne[62],
Whan theie ar dedd, theie
leave yer name behynde,
And theyre goode deedes doe
on the earthe remayne;
Downe yn the grave wee ynhyme[63]
everych steyne, 5
Whylest al her gentlenesse
ys made to sheene,
Lyche fetyve baubels[64] geasonne[65]
to be seene.
AELLA, the wardenne of thys[66]
castell[67] stede,
Whylest Saxons dyd the Englysche
sceptre swaie,
Who made whole troopes of
Dacyan men to blede, 10
Then seel’d[68] hys
eyne, and seeled hys eyne for aie,
Wee rowze hym uppe before
the judgment daie,
To saie what he, as clergyond[69],
can kenne,
And howe hee sojourned in
the vale of men.
[Footnote 60: comfort.]
[Footnote 61: preserved.]
[Footnote 62: ruin.]
[Footnote 63: inter.]
[Footnote 64: jewels.]
[Footnote 65: rare.]
[Footnote 66: Bristol.]
[Footnote 67: castle.]
[Footnote 68: closed.]
[Footnote 69: taught.]
CELMONDE, att BRYSTOWE.
Before yonne roddie sonne
has droove hys wayne
Throwe halfe hys joornie,
dyghte yn gites[1] of goulde,
Mee, happeless mee, hee wylle
a wretche behoulde,
Mieselfe, and al that’s myne, bounde
ynne myschaunces chayne.
Ah! Birtha, whie dydde
Nature frame thee fayre? 5
Whie art thou all thatt poyntelle[2]
canne bewreene[3]?
Whie art thou nott as coarse
as odhers are?—
Botte thenn thie soughle woulde
throwe thy vysage sheene,
Yatt shemres onn thie comelie
semlykeene[4],
Lyche nottebrowne cloudes,
whann bie the sonne made redde, 10
Orr scarlette, wythe waylde
lynnen clothe ywreene[5],
Syke[6] woulde thie spryte
upponn thie vysage spredde.
Thys daie brave AElla dothe
thyne honde & harte
Clayme as hys owne to be, whyche nee fromm
hys moste parte.
And cann I lyve to see herr
wythe anere[7]! 15
Ytt cannotte, muste notte,
naie, ytt shalle not bee.
Thys nyghte I’ll putte
stronge poysonn ynn the beere,
And hymm, herr, and myselfe,
attenes[8] wyll slea.
Assyst mee, Helle! lett Devylles
rounde mee tende,
To slea mieselfe, mie love, & eke mie
doughtie[9] friende. 20
AELLA, BIRTHA.
AELLA.
Notte, whanne the hallie prieste
dyd make me knyghte,
Blessynge the weaponne, tellynge
future dede,
Howe bie mie honde the prevyd[10]
Dane shoulde blede,
Howe I schulde often bee, and often wynne,
ynn fyghte;
Notte, whann I fyrste behelde
thie beauteous hue, 25
Whyche strooke mie mynde,
& rouzed mie softer soule;
Nott, whann from the barbed
horse yn fyghte dyd viewe
The flying Dacians oere the
wyde playne roule,
Whan all the troopes of Denmarque
made grete dole,
Dydd I fele joie wyth syke
reddoure[11] as nowe, 30
Whann hallie preest, the lechemanne
of the soule,
Dydd knytte us both ynn a
caytysnede[12] vowe:
Now hallie AElla’s selynesse
ys grate;
Shap[13] haveth nowe ymade hys woes for
to emmate[14].
BIRTHA.
Mie lorde, & husbande, syke
a joie ys myne; 35
Botte mayden modestie moste
ne soe saie,
Albeytte thou mayest rede
ytt ynn myne eyne,
Or ynn myne harte, where thou
shalte be for aie;
Inne sothe, I have botte meeded
Ofte have I seene thee atte
the none-daie feaste, 45
Whanne deysde bie thieselfe,
for wante of pheeres[18],
Awhylst thie merryemen dydde
laughe and jeaste,
Onn mee thou semest all eyne,
to mee all eares.
Thou wardest mee as gyff ynn
hondred feeres,
Alest a daygnous[19] looke
to thee be sente, 50
And offrendes[20] made mee,
moe thann yie compheeres,
Offe scarpes[21] of scarlette,
& fyne paramente[22];
All thie yntente to please
was lyssed[23] to mee,
I saie ytt, I moste streve thatt you ameded
bee.
AELLA.
Mie lyttel kyndnesses whyche
I dydd doe, 55
Thie gentleness doth corven
them soe grete,
Lyche bawsyn[24] olyphauntes[25]
mie gnattes doe shewe;
Thou doest mie thoughtes of
paying love amate[26].
Botte hann mie actyonns straughte[27]
the rolle of fate,
Pyghte thee fromm Hell, or
broughte Heaven down to thee, 60
Layde the whol worlde a falldstole
atte thie feete,
On smyle woulde be suffycyll
mede for mee.
I amm Loves borro’r,
& canne never paie,
Bott be hys borrower stylle, & thyne,
mie swete, for aie.
BIRTHA.
Love, doe notte rate your
achevmentes[28] soe smalle; 65
As I to you, syke love untoe
mee beare;
For nothynge paste wille Birtha
ever call,
Ne on a foode from Heaven
thynke to cheere.
As farr as thys frayle brutylle
flesch wylle spere,
Syke, & ne fardher I expecte
of you; 70
Be notte toe slacke yn love,
ne overdeare;
A smalle fyre, yan a loude
flame, proves more true.
AELLA.
Thie gentle wordis doe thie
volunde[29] kenne
To bee moe clergionde thann
ys ynn meyncte of menne.
AELLA, BIRTHA, CELMONDE, MYNSTRELLES.
CELMONDE.
Alle blessynges showre on
gentle AElla’s hedde!
75
Oft maie the moone, yn sylverr
sheenynge lyghte,
Inne varied chaunges varyed
blessynges shedde,
Besprengeynge far abrode mischaunces
nyghte;
And thou, fayre Birtha! thou,
fayre Dame, so bryghte,
Long mayest thou wyth AElla
fynde muche peace, 80
Wythe selynesse, as wyth a
roabe, be dyghte,
Wyth everych chaungynge mone
new joies encrease!
I, as a token of mie love
to speake,
Have brought you jubbes of ale, at nyghte
youre brayne to breake.
AELLA.
Whan sopperes paste we’lle
drenche youre ale soe stronge, 85
Tyde lyfe, tyde death.
CELMONDE.
Ye Mynstrelles, chaunt your songe.
Mynstrelles Songe, bie a Manne and Womanne.
MANNE.
Tourne thee to thie Shepsterr[30] swayne;
Bryghte sonne has ne droncke the dewe
From the floures of yellowe hue;
Tourne thee, Alyce, backe agayne. 90
WOMANNE.
No, bestoikerre[31], I wylle
goe,
Softlie tryppynge o’ere
the mees[32],
Lyche the sylver-footed doe,
Seekeynge shelterr yn grene
trees.
MANNE.
See the moss-growne daisey’d
banke, 95
Pereynge ynne the streme belowe;
Here we’lle sytte, yn
dewie danke;
Tourne thee, Alyce, do notte
goe.
WOMANNE.
I’ve hearde erste mie
grandame saie,
Yonge damoyselles schulde
ne bee, 100
Inne the swotie moonthe of
Maie,
Wythe yonge menne bie the
grene wode tree.
MANNE.
Sytte thee, Alyce, sytte,
and harke,
Howe the ouzle[33] chauntes
hys noate,
The chelandree[34], greie
morn larke, 105
Chauntynge from theyre lyttel
throate;
WOMANNE.
I heare them from eche grene
wode tree,
Chauntynge owte so blatauntlie[35],
Tellynge lecturnyes[36] to
mee,
Myscheefe ys whanne you are
nygh. 110
MANNE.
See alonge the mees so grene
Pied daisies, kynge-coppes
swote;
Alle wee see, bie non bee
scene,
Nete botte shepe settes here
a fote.
WOMANNE.
Shepster swayne, you tare
mie gratche[37]. 115
Oute uponne ye! lette me goe.
Leave mee swythe, or I’lle
alatche.
Robynne, thys youre dame shall
knowe.
MANNE.
See! the crokynge brionie
Rounde the popler twyste hys
spraie; 120
Rounde the oake the greene
ivie
Florryschethe and lyveth aie.
Lette us seate us bie thys
tree,
Laughe, and synge to lovynge
ayres;
Comme, and doe notte coyen
bee; 125
Nature made all thynges bie
payres.
Drooried cattes wylle after
kynde;
Gentle doves wylle kyss and
coe.
WOMANNE.
Botte manne, hee moste bee
ywrynde,
Tylle syr preeste make on
of two. 130
Tempte mee ne to the foule
thynge;
I wylle no mannes lemanne
be;
Tyll syr preeste hys songe
doethe synge,
Thou shalt neere fynde aught
of mee.
MANNE.
Bie oure ladie her yborne,
135
To-morrowe, soone as ytte
ys daie,
I’lle make thee wyfe,
ne bee forsworne,
So tyde me lyfe or dethe for
aie.
WOMANNE.
Whatt dothe lette, botte thatte
nowe
Wee attenes[38], thos honde
yn honde, 140
Unto divinistre[39] goe,
And bee lyncked yn wedlocke
bonde?
MANNE.
I agree, and thus I plyghte
Honde, and harte, and all
that’s myne;
Goode syr Rogerr, do us ryghte,
145
Make us one, at Cothbertes
shryne.
BOTHE.
We wylle ynn a bordelle[40]
lyve,
Hailie, thoughe of no estate;
Everyche clocke moe love shall
gyve;
Wee ynne godenesse wylle bee
greate. 150
AELLA.
I lyche thys songe, I lyche
ytt myckle well;
And there ys monie for yer
syngeynge nowe;
Butte have you noone thatt
marriage-blessynges telle?
CELMONDE.
In marriage, blessynges are botte fewe, I trowe.
MYNSTRELLES.
Laverde[41], wee have; and,
gyff you please, wille synge, 155
As well as owre choughe-voyces
wylle permytte.
AELLA.
Comme then, and see you swotelie
tune the strynge,
And stret[42], and engyne all the human wytte,
Toe please mie dame.
MYNSTRELLES.
We’lle strayne owre wytte and synge.
Mynstrelles Songe.
FYRSTE MYNSTRYLLE.
The boddynge flourettes bloshes
atte the lyghte; 160
The mees be sprenged wyth the yellowe hue;
Ynn daiseyd mantels ys the mountayne dyghte;
The nesh[43] yonge coweslepe bendethe wyth the
dewe;
The trees enlefed, yntoe Heavenne straughte.
Whenn gentle wyndes doe blowe, to whestlyng dynne
ys broughte. 165
The evenynge commes, and brynges
the dewe alonge;
The roddie welkynne sheeneth
to the eyne;
Arounde the alestake Mynstrells
synge the songe;
Yonge ivie rounde the doore
poste do entwyne;
I laie mee onn the grasse;
yette, to mie wylle, 170
Albeytte alle ys fayre, there lackethe
somethynge stylle.
SECONDE MYNSTRELLE.
So Adam thoughtenne, whann,
ynn Paradyse,
All Heavenn and Erthe dyd
hommage to hys mynde;
Ynn Womman alleyne mannes
pleasaunce lyes;
As Instrumentes of joie were
made the kynde. 175
Go, take a wyfe untoe thie
armes, and see
Wynter, and brownie hylles, wyll have
a charme for thee.
THYRDE MYNSTRELLE.
Whanne Autumpne blake[44]
and sonne-brente doe appere,
With hys goulde honde guylteynge
the falleynge lefe,
Bryngeynge oppe Wynterr to
folfylle the yere, 180
Beerynge uponne hys backe
the riped shefe;
Whan al the hyls wythe woddie
sede ys whyte;
Whanne levynne-fyres and lemes do mete
from far the syghte;
Whann the fayre apple, rudde
as even skie,
Do bende the tree unto the
fructyle grounde; 185
When joicie peres, and berries
of blacke die,
Doe daunce yn ayre, and call
the eyne arounde;
Thann, bee the even foule,
or even fayre,
Meethynckes mie hartys joie ys steynced
wyth somme care.
SECONDE MYNSTRELLE.
Angelles bee wrogte to bee
of neidher kynde; 190
Angelles alleyne fromme chafe[45]
desyre bee free;
Dheere ys a somwhatte evere
yn the mynde,
Yatte, wythout wommanne, cannot
stylled bee;
Ne seyncte yn celles, botte,
havynge blodde and tere[46],
Do fynde the spryte to joie on syghte
of womanne fayre: 195
Wommen bee made, notte for
hemselves, botte manne,
Bone of hys bone, and chyld
of hys desire;
Fromme an ynutyle membere
fyrste beganne,
Ywroghte with moche of water,
lyttele fyre;
Therefore theie seke the fyre
of love, to hete 200
The milkyness of kynde, and make hemselfes
complete.
Albeytte, wythout wommen,
menne were pheeres
To salvage kynde, and wulde
botte lyve to flea,
Botte wommenne efte the spryghte
of peace so cheres,
Tochelod yn Angel joie heie
Angeles bee; 205
Go, take thee swythyn[47]
to thie bedde a wyfe,
Bee bante or blessed hie, yn proovynge
marryage lyfe.
Anodher Mynstrelles Songe, bie Syr Thybbot Gorges.
As Elynour bie the green lesselle was
syttynge,
As from the sones hete she
harried,
She sayde, as herr whytte hondes whyte
hosen was knyttynge, 210
Whatte pleasure ytt ys to
be married!
Mie husbande, Lorde Thomas, a forrester
boulde,
As ever clove pynne, or the
baskette,
Does no cherysauncys from Elynour houlde,
I have ytte as soone as I
aske ytte. 215
Whann I lyved wyth mie fadre yn merrie
Clowd-dell.
Tho’ twas at my liefe
to mynde spynnynge,
I stylle wanted somethynge, botte whatte
ne coulde telle,
Mie lorde fadres barbde haulle
han ne wynnynge.
Eche mornynge I ryse, doe I sette mie
maydennes, 220
Somme to spynn, somme to curdell,
somme bleachynge,
Gyff any new entered doe aske for mie
aidens,
Thann swythynne you fynde
mee a teachynge.
Lorde Walterre, mie fadre, he loved me
welle,
And nothynge unto mee was
nedeynge, 225
Botte schulde I agen goe to merrie Cloud-dell,
In sothen twoulde bee wythoute
redeynge.
Shee sayde, and lorde Thomas came over
the lea,
As hee the fatte derkynnes
was chacynge,
Shee putte uppe her knyttynge, and to
hym wente shee; 230
So wee leave hem bothe kyndelie
embracynge.
AELLA.
I lyche eke thys; goe ynn
untoe the feaste;
Wee wylle permytte you antecedente
bee;
There swotelie synge eche
carolle, and yaped[48] jeaste;
And there ys monnie, that
you merrie bee; 235
Comme, gentle love, wee wylle
toe spouse-feaste goe,
And there ynn ale and wyne bee dreyncted[49]
everych woe.
AELLA, BIRTHA, CELMONDE, MESSENGERE.
MESSENGERE.
AElla, the Danes ar thondrynge
onn our coaste;
Lyche scolles of locusts,
caste oppe bie the sea,
Magnus and Hurra, wythe a
doughtie hoaste, 240
Are ragyng, to be quansed[50]
bie none botte thee;
Haste, swyfte as Levynne to
these royners flee:
Thie dogges alleyne can tame
thys ragynge bulle.
Haste swythyn, fore anieghe
the towne theie bee,
And Wedecesterres rolle of
dome bee fulle. 245
Haste, haste, O AElla, to
the byker flie,
For yn a momentes space tenne thousand
menne maie die.
AELLA.
Beshrew thee for thie newes!
I moste be gon.
Was ever lockless dome so
hard as myne!
Thos from dysportysmente to
warr to ron, 250
To chaunge the selke veste
for the gaberdyne!
BIRTHA.
O! lyche a nedere, lette me
rounde thee twyne,
And hylte thie boddie from
the schaftes of warre.
Thou shalte nott, must not,
from thie Birtha ryne,
Botte kenn the dynne of slughornes
from afarre. 255
AELLA.
O love, was thys thie joie,
to shewe the treate,
Than groffyshe to forbydde thie hongered
guestes to eate?
O mie upswalynge[51] harte,
whatt wordes can saie
The peynes, thatte passethe
ynn mie soule ybrente?
Thos to bee torne uponne mie
spousalle daie, 260
O! ’tys a peyne beyond
entendemente.
Yee mychtie Goddes, and is
yor favoures sente
As thous faste dented to a
loade of peyne?
Moste wee aie holde yn chace
the shade content.
And for a bodykyn[52] a swarthe
obteyne? 265
O! whie, yee seynctes, oppress
yee thos mie fowle?
How shalle I speke mie woe, mie freme,
mie dreerie dole?
CELMONDE.
Sometyme the wyseste lacketh
pore mans rede.
Reasonne and counynge wytte
efte flees awaie.
Thanne, loverde, lett me saie,
wyth hommaged drede
(Bieneth your fote ylayn)
mie counselle saie; 271
Gyff thos wee lett the matter
lethlen[53] laie,
The foemenn, everych honde-poyncte,
getteth fote.
Mie loverde, lett the speere-menne,
dyghte for fraie,
And all the sabbataners goe
aboute. 275
I speke, mie loverde, alleyne
to upryse
Youre wytte from marvelle, and the warriour
to alyse.
AELLA.
Ah! nowe thou pottest takells[54]
yn mie harte;
Mie soulghe dothe nowe begynne
to see herselle;
I wylle upryse mie myghte,
and doe mie parte, 280
To flea the foemenne yn mie
furie felle.
Botte howe canne tynge mie
rampynge fourie telle.
Whyche ryseth from mie love
to Birtha fayre?
Ne coulde the queede, and
alle the myghte of Helle,
Founde out impleasaunce of
syke blacke a geare. 285
Yette I wylle bee mieselfe,
and rouze mie spryte
To acte wythe rennome, and goe meet the
bloddie fyghte.
BIRTHA.
No, thou schalte never leave
thie Birtha’s syde;
Ne schall the wynde uponne
us blowe alleyne;
I, lyche a nedre, wylle untoe
thee byde; 290
Tyde lyfe, tyde deathe, ytte
shall behoulde us twayne.
I have mie parte of drierie
dole and peyne;
Itte brasteth from mee atte
the holtred eyne;
Ynne tydes of teares mie swarthynge
spryte wyll drayne,
Gyff drerie dole ys thyne,
tys twa tymes myne. 295
Goe notte, AElla; wythe thie
Birtha staie;
For wyth thie femmlykeed mie spryte wyll
goe awaie.
AELLA.
O! tys for thee, for thee
alleyne I fele;
Yett I muste bee mieselfe;
with valoures gear
I’lle dyghte mie hearte,
and notte mie lymbes yn stele, 300
And shake the bloddie swerde
and steyned spere.
BIRTHA.
Can AElla from hys breaste
hys Birtha teare?
Is shee so rou and ugsomme[55]
to hys fyghte?
Entrykeynge wyght! ys leathall
warre so deare?
Thou pryzest mee belowe the
joies of fyghte. 305
Thou scalte notte leave mee,
albeytte the erthe
Hong pendaunte bie thie swerde, and craved
for thy morthe.
AELLA.
Dyddest thou kenne howe mie
woes, as starres ybrente,
Headed bie these thie wordes
doe onn mee falle,
Thou woulde stryve to gyve
mie harte contente, 310
Wakyng mie slepynge mynde
to honnoures calle.
Of selynesse I pryze thee
moe yan all
Heaven can mee sende, or counynge
wytt acquyre,
Yette I wylle leave thee,
onne the foe to falle,
Retournynge to thie eyne with
double fyre. 315
BIRTHA.
Moste Birtha boon requeste
and bee denyd?
Receyve attenes a darte yn selynesse and
pryde?
Doe staie, att leaste tylle
morrowes sonne apperes.
AELLA.
Thou kenneste welle the Dacyannes
myttee powere;
Wythe them a mynnute wurchethe
bane for yeares; 320
Theie undoe reaulmes wythyn
a syngle hower.
Rouze all thie honnoure, Birtha;
look attoure
Thie bledeynge countrie, whych
for hastie dede
Calls, for the rodeynge of
some doughtie power,
To royn yttes royners, make
yttes foemenne blede. 325
BIRTHA.
Rouze all thie love; false
and entrykyng wyghte!
Ne leave thie Birtha thos uponne pretence
of fyghte.
Thou nedest notte goe, untyll
thou haste command
Under the sygnette of oure
lorde the kynge.
AELLA.
And wouldest thou make me
then a recreande? 330
Hollie Seyncte Marie, keepe
mee from the thynge!
Heere, Birtha, thou hast potte
a double stynge,
One for thie love, anodher
for thie mynde.
BIRTHA.
Agylted[56] AElla, thie abredynge[57]
blynge[58].
Twas love of thee thatte foule
intente ywrynde. 335
Yette heare mie supplycate,
to mee attende,
Hear from mie groted[59] harte the lover
and the friende.
Lett Celmonde yn thie armour-brace
be dyghte;
And yn thie stead unto the
battle goe;
Thie name alleyne wylle putte
the Danes to flyghte, 340
The ayre thatt beares ytt
woulde presse downe the foe.
AELLA.
Birtha, yn vayne thou wouldste
mee recreand doe;
I moste, I wylle, fyghte for
mie countries wele,
And leave thee for ytt.
Celmonde, sweftlie goe,
Telle mie Brystowans to bedyghte
yn stele; 345
Tell hem I scorne to kenne
hem from afar,
Botte leave the vyrgyn brydall bedde for
bedde of warre.
AELLA, BIRTHA.
BIRTHA.
And thou wylt goe; O mie agroted harte!
AELLA.
Mie countrie waites mie marche;
I muste awaie;
Albeytte I schulde goe to
mete the darte 350
Of certen Dethe, yette here
I woulde notte staie.
Botte thos to leave thee,
Birtha, dothe asswaie
Moe torturynge peynes yanne
canne be sedde bie tyngue,
Yette rouze thie honoure uppe,
and wayte the daie,
Whan rounde aboute mee songe
of warre heie synge. 355
O Birtha, strev mie agreeme[60]
to accaie[61],
And joyous see mie armes, dyghte oute
ynn warre arraie.
BIRTHA.
Difficile[62] ys the pennaunce,
yette I’lle strev
To keepe mie woe behyltren
yn mie breaste.
Albeytte nete maye to mee
pleasaunce yev, 360
Lyche thee, I’lle strev
to sette mie mynde atte reste.
Yett oh! forgeve, yff I have
thee dystreste;
Love, doughtie love, wylle
beare no odher swaie.
Juste as I was wythe AElla
to be bleste,
Shappe foullie thos hathe
snatched hym awaie. 365
It was a tene too doughtie
to bee borne,
Wydhoute an ounde of teares and breaste
wyth syghes ytorne.
AELLA.
Thie mynde ys now thieselfe;
why wylte thou bee
All blanche, al kyngelie,
all soe wyse yn mynde,
Alleyne to lett pore wretched
AElla see, 370
Whatte wondrous bighes[63]
he nowe muste leave behynde?
O Birtha fayre, warde everyche
commynge wynde,
On everych wynde I wylle a
token sende;
Onn mie longe shielde ycorne
thie name thoul’t fynde.
Butte here commes Celmonde,
wordhie knyghte and friende. 375
AELLA, BIRTHA, CELMONDE
speaking.
Thie Brystowe knyghtes for
thie forth-comynge lynge[64];
Echone athwarte hys backe hys longe warre-shield
dothe slynge.
AELLA.
Birtha, adieu; but yette I cannotte goe.
BIRTHA.
Lyfe of mie spryte, mie gentle
AElla staie. 380
Engyne mee notte wyth syke
a drierie woe.
AELLA.
I muste, I wylle; tys honnoure cals awaie.
BIRTHA.
O mie agroted harte, braste,
braste ynn twaie.
AElla, for honnoure, flyes
awaie from mee.
AELLA.
Birtha, adieu; I maie notte
here obaie. 385
I’m flyynge from mieselfe
yn flying thee.
BIRTHA.
O AElla, housband, friend,
and loverde, staie.
He’s gon, he’s gone, alass!
percase he’s gone for aie.
CELMONDE.
Hope, hallie suster, sweepeynge
thro’ the skie,
In crowne of goulde, and robe
of lillie whyte, 390
Whyche farre abrode ynne gentle
ayre doe flie,
Meetynge from dystaunce the
enjoyous fyghte,
Albeytte efte thou takest
thie hie flyghte
Hecket[65] ynne a myste, and
wyth thyne eyne yblente,
Nowe commest thou to mee wythe
starrie lyghte; 395
Ontoe thie veste the rodde
sonne ys adente[66];
The Sommer tyde, the month
of Maie appere,
Depycte wythe skylledd honde upponn thie
wyde aumere.
I from a nete of hopelen am
adawed,
Awhaped[67] atte the fetyveness
of daie; 400
AElla, bie nete moe thann
hys myndbruche awed,
Is gone, and I moste followe,
toe the fraie.
Celmonde canne ne’er
from anie byker staie.
Dothe warre begynne? there’s
Celmonde yn the place.
Botte whanne the warre ys
donne, I’ll haste awaie.
The reste from nethe tymes
masque must shew yttes face. 405
I see onnombered joies arounde
mee ryse;
Blake[68] stondethe future doome, and
joie dothe mee alyse.
O honnoure, honnoure, whatt
ys bie thee hanne?
Hailie the robber and the
bordelyer, 410
Who kens ne thee, or ys to
thee bestanne,
And nothynge does thie myckle
gastness fere.
Faygne woulde I from mie bosomme
Honnoure, whatt bee ytte?
tys a shadowes shade,
A thynge of wychencref, an
idle dreme; 420
On of the fonnis whych the
clerche have made
Menne wydhoute sprytes, and
wommen for to fleme;
Knyghtes, who efte kenne the
loude dynne of the beme,
Schulde be forgarde to syke
enfeeblynge waies,
Make everych acte, alyche
theyr soules, be breme, 425
And for theyre chyvalrie alleyne
have prayse.
O thou, whatteer
thie name,
Or
Zabalus or Queed,
Comme, steel mie
sable spryte,
For
fremde[70] and dolefulle dede.
430
MAGNUS, HURRA, and HIE PREESTE, wyth the ARMIE, neare Watchette.
MAGNUS.
Swythe[71] lette the offrendes[72]
to the Goddes begynne.
To knowe of hem the issue
of the fyghte.
Potte the blodde-steyned sword
and pavyes ynne;
Spreade swythyn all arounde
the hallie lyghte.
HIE PREESTE syngeth.
Yee, who hie yn
mokie ayre
435
Delethe seasonnes
foule or fayre,
Yee, who, whanne
yee weere agguylte,
The mone yn bloddie
gyttelles[73] hylte,
Mooved the starres,
and dyd unbynde
Everyche barriere
to the wynde; 440
Whanne the oundynge
waves dystreste,
Stroven to be
overest,
Sockeynge yn the
spyre-gyrte towne,
Swolterynge wole
natyones downe,
Sendynge dethe,
on plagues astrodde,
445
Moovynge lyke
the erthys Godde;
To mee send your
heste dyvyne,
Lyghte eletten[74]
all myne eyne,
Thatt I maie now
undevyse
All the actyonnes
of th’empprize.
450
[falleth
downe and efte rysethe.
Thus sayethe the Goddes; goe,
yssue to the playne;
Forr there shall meynte of
mytte menne bee slayne.
MAGNUS.
Whie, foe there evere was,
whanne Magnus foughte.
Efte have I treynted noyance
throughe the hoaste,
Athorowe swerdes, alyche the
Queed dystraughte, 455
Have Magnus pressynge wroghte
hys foemen loaste.
As whanne a tempeste vexethe
soare the coaste,
The dyngeynge ounde the sandeie
stronde doe tare,
So dyd I inne the warre the
javlynne toste,
Full meynte a champyonnes
breaste received mie spear. 460
Mie sheelde, lyche sommere
morie gronfer droke,
Mie lethalle speere, alyche a levyn-mylted
oke.
HURRA.
Thie wordes are greate, full
hyghe of sound, and eeke
Lyche thonderre, to the whych
dothe comme no rayne.
Itte lacketh notte a doughtie
honde to speke; 465
The cocke saiethe drefte[75],
yett armed ys he alleyne.
Certis thie wordes maie, thou
motest have sayne
Of mee, and meynte of moe,
who eke canne fyghte,
Who haveth trodden downe the
adventayle,
And tore the heaulmes from
heades of myckle myghte. 470
Sythence syke myghte ys placed
yn thie honde,
Lette blowes thie actyons speeke, and
bie thie corrage stonde.
MAGNUS.
Thou are a warrioure, Hurra,
thatte I kenne,
And myckle famed for thie
handie dede.
Thou fyghtest anente[76] maydens
and ne menne, 475
Nor aie thou makest armed
hartes to blede.
Efte I, caparyson’d
on bloddie stede,
Havethe thee seene binethe
mee ynn the fyghte,
Wythe corses I investynge
everich mede,
And thou aston, and wondrynge
at mie myghte. 480
Thanne wouldest thou comme
yn for mie renome,
Albeytte thou wouldst reyne awaie from
bloddie dome?
HURRA.
How! butte bee bourne mie
rage. I kenne aryghte
Bothe thee and thyne maie
ne bee wordhye peene.
Eftsoones I hope wee scalle
engage yn fyghte; 485
Thanne to the souldyers all
thou wylte bewreene.
I’ll prove mie courage
onne the burled greene;
Tys there alleyne I’ll
telle thee whatte I bee.
Gyf I weelde notte the deadlie
sphere adeene,
Thanne lett mie name be fulle
as lowe as thee. 490
Thys mie adented shielde,
thys mie warre-speare,
Schalle telle the falleynge foe gyf Hurra’s
harte can feare.
MAGNUS.
Magnus woulde speke, butte
thatte hys noble spryte
Dothe soe enrage, he knowes
notte whatte to saie.
He’dde speke yn blowes,
yn gottes of blodde he’d wryte,
495
And on thie heafod peyncte
hys myghte for aie.
Gyf thou anent an wolfynnes
rage wouldest staie,
’Tys here to meet ytt;
botte gyff nott, bee goe;
Lest I in furrie shulde mie
armes dysplaie,
Whyche to thie boddie wylle
wurche[77] myckle woe. 500
Oh! I bee madde, dystraughte
wyth brendyng rage;
Ne seas of smethynge gore wylle mie chafed
harte asswage.
HURRA.
I kenne thee, Magnus, welle;
a wyghte thou art
That doest aslee alonge ynn
doled dystresse,
Strynge bulle yn boddie, lyoncelle
yn harte, 505
I almost wysche thie prowes
were made lesse.
Whan AElla (name drest uppe
yn ugsomness[78]
To thee and recreandes[79])
thondered on the playne,
Howe dydste thou thorowe fyrste
of fleers presse!
Swefter thanne federed takelle
dydste thou reyne. 510
A ronnynge pryze onn seyncte
daie to ordayne,
Magnus, and none botte hee, the ronnynge
pryze wylle gayne.
MAGNUS.
Eternalle plagues devour thie
baned tyngue!
Myrriades of neders pre upponne
thie spryte!
Maiest thou fele al the peynes
of age whylst yynge, 515
Unmanned, uneyned, exclooded
aie the lyghte,
Thie senses, lyche thieselfe,
enwrapped yn nyghte,
A scoff to foemen & to beastes
a pheere;
Maie furched levynne onne
thie head alyghte,
Maie on thee falle the fhuyr
of the unweere; 520
Fen vaipoures blaste thie
everiche manlie powere,
Maie thie bante boddie quycke the wolfome
peenes devoure.
Faygne woulde I curse thee
further, botte mie tyngue
Denies mie harte the favoure
soe toe doe.
HURRA.
Nowe bie the Dacyanne goddes,
& Welkyns kynge, 525
Wythe fhurie, as thou dydste
begynne, persue;
Calle on mie heade all tortures
that bee rou,
Bane onne, tylle thie owne
tongue thie curses fele.
Sende onne mie heade the blyghteynge
levynne blewe,
The thonder loude, the swellynge
azure rele[80]. 530
Thie wordes be hie of dynne,
botte nete besyde;
Bane on, good chieftayn, fyghte wythe
wordes of myckle pryde.
Botte doe notte waste thie breath, lest AElla come.
MAGNUS.
AElla & thee togyder synke
toe helle!
Bee youre names blasted from
the rolle of dome! 535
I feere noe AElla, thatte
thou kennest welle.
Unlydgefulle traytoure, wylt
thou nowe rebelle?
’Tys knowen, thatte
yie menn bee lyncked to myne,
Bothe sente, as troopes of
wolves, to sletre felle;
Botte nowe thou lackest hem
to be all yyne. 540
Nowe, bie the goddes yatte
reule the Dacyanne state,
Speacke thou yn rage once moe, I wyll
thee dysregate.
HURRA.
I pryze thie threattes joste
as I doe thie banes,
The sede of malyce and recendize
al.
Thou arte a steyne unto the
name of Danes; 545
Thou alleyne to thie tyngue
for proofe canst calle.
Thou beest a worme so groffile
and so smal,
I wythe thie bloude woulde
scorne to foul mie sworde,
Botte wythe thie weaponnes
woulde upon thee falle,
Alyche thie owne feare, slea
thee wythe a worde. 550
I Hurra amme miesel, & aie
wylle bee,
As greate yn valourous actes, & yn commande
as thee.
MAGNUS, HURRA, ARMYE & MESSENGER.
MESSENGERE.
Blynne your contekions[81],
chiefs; for, as I stode
Uponne mie watche, I spiede
an armie commynge,
Notte lyche ann handfulle
of a fremded[82] foe, 555
Botte blacke wythe armoure,
movynge ugsomlie,
Lyche a blacke fulle cloude,
thatte dothe goe alonge
To droppe yn hayle, & hele
the thonder storme.
MAGNUS.
Ar there meynte of them?
MESSENGERR.
Thycke as the ante-flyes ynne
a sommer’s none, 560
Seemynge as tho’ theie
stynge as persante too.
HURRA.
Whatte matters thatte? lettes
sette oure warr-arraie.
Goe, sounde the beme, lette
champyons prepare;
Ne doubtynge, we wylle stynghe
as faste as heie.
Whatte? doest forgard[83]
thie blodde? ys ytte for feare? 565
Wouldest thou gayne the towne,
& castle-stere,
And yette ne byker wythe the
soldyer guarde?
Go, hyde thee ynn mie tente
annethe the lere;
I of thie boddie wylle keepe
watche & warde.
MAGNUS.
Oure goddes of Denmarke know mie harte ys goode. 570
HURRA.
For nete uppon the erthe, botte to be choughens foode.
MAGNUS, HURRA, ARMIE, SECONDE MESSENGERRE.
SECONDE MESSENGERRE.
As from mie towre I kende the commynge foe,
I spied the crossed shielde, & bloddie swerde,
The furyous AElla’s banner; wythynne kenne
The armie ys. Dysorder throughe oure hoaste 575
Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of AElla’s name;
Styr, styr, mie lordes!
MAGNUS.
What?
AElla? & soe neare?
Thenne Denmarques roiend;
oh mie rysynge feare!
HURRA.
What doeste thou mene? thys AElla’s botte a manne.
Nowe bie mie sworde, thou arte a verie berne[84]. 580
Of late I dyd thie creand valoure scanne,
Whanne thou dydst boaste soe moche of actyon derne.
Botte I toe warr mie doeynges moste atturne,
To cheere the Sabbataneres to deere dede.
MAGNUS.
I to the knyghtes onne everyche
syde wylle burne, 585
Telleynge ’hem alle
to make her foemen blede;
Sythe shame or deathe onne
eidher syde wylle bee,
Mie harte I wylle upryse, & inne the battelle
slea.
AELLA, CELMONDE, & ARMIE near WATCHETTE.
AELLA.
Now havynge done oure mattynes
& oure vowes,
Lette us for the intended
fyghte be boune, 590
And everyche champyone potte
the joyous crowne
Of certane mastershhyppe upon hys glestreynge
browes.
As for mie harte, I owne ytt
ys, as ere
Itte has beene ynne the sommer-sheene
of fate,
Unknowen to the ugsomme gratche
of fere; 595
Mie blodde embollen, wythe
masterie elate,
Boyles ynne mie veynes, &
rolles ynn rapyd state,
Impatyente forr to mete the
persante stele,
And telle the worlde, thatte
AElla dyed as greate
As anie knyghte who foughte
for Englondes weale. 600
Friends, kynne, & soldyerres,
ynne blacke armore drere,
Mie actyons ymytate, mie presente redynge
here.
There ys ne house, athrow
thys shap-scurged[85] isle,
Thatte has ne loste a kynne
yn these fell fyghtes,
Fatte blodde has sorfeeted
the hongerde soyle, 605
And townes enlowed[86] lemed[87]
oppe the nyghtes.
Inne gyte of fyre oure hallie
churche dheie dyghtes;
Oure sonnes lie storven[88]
ynne theyre smethynge gore;
Oppe bie the rootes oure tree
of lyfe dheie pyghtes,
Vexynge oure coaste, as byllowes
doe the shore. 610
Yee menne, gyf ye are menne,
displaie yor name,
Ybrende yer tropes, alyche the roarynge
tempest flame.
Ye Chrystyans, doe as wordhie
of the name;
These roynerres of oure hallie
houses slea;
Braste, lyke a cloude, from
whence doth come the flame, 615
Lyche torrentes, gushynge
downe the mountaines, bee.
And whanne alonge the grene
yer champyons flee,
Swefte as the rodde for-weltrynge[89]
levyn-bronde,
Yatte hauntes the flyinge
mortherer oere the lea,
Soe flie oponne these royners
of the londe. 620
Lette those yatte are unto
yer battayles fledde,
Take slepe eterne uponne a feerie lowynge
bedde.
Let cowarde Londonne see herre
towne onn fyre,
And strev wythe goulde to
staie the royners honde,
AElla & Brystowe havethe thoughtes
thattes hygher, 625
Wee fyghte notte forr ourselves,
botte all the londe.
As Severnes hyger lyghethe
banckes of sonde,
Pressynge ytte downe binethe
the reynynge streme,
Wythe dreerie dynn enswolters[90]
the hyghe stronde,
Beerynge the rockes alonge
ynn fhurye breme, 630
Soe wylle wee beere the Dacyanne
armie downe,
And throughe a storme of blodde wyll reache
the champyon crowne.
Gyff ynn thys battelle locke
ne wayte oure gare,
To Brystowe dheie wylle tourne
yeyre fhuyrie dyre;
Brystowe, & alle her joies,
wylle synke toe ayre, 635
Brendeynge perforce wythe
unenhantende[91] fyre:
Thenne lette oure safetie
doublie moove oure ire,
Lyche wolfyns, rovynge for
the evnynge pre,
See[ing] the lambe & shepsterr
nere the brire,
Doth th’one forr safetie,
th’one for hongre slea; 640
Thanne, whanne the ravenne
crokes uponne the playne,
Oh! lette ytte bee the knelle to myghtie
Dacyanns slayne.
Lyche a rodde gronfer, shalle
mie anlace sheene,
Lyche a strynge lyoncelle
I’lle bee ynne fyghte,
Lyche fallynge leaves the
Dacyannes shalle bee sleene, 645
Lyche [a] loud dynnynge streeme
scalle be mie myghte.
Ye menne, who woulde deserve
the name of knyghte,
Lette bloddie teares bie all
your paves be wepte;
To commynge tymes no poyntelle
shalle ywrite,
Whanne Englonde han her foemenn,
Brystow slepte. 650
Yourselfes, youre chyldren,
& youre fellowes crie,
Go, fyghte ynne rennomes gare, be brave,
& wynne or die.
I saie ne moe; youre spryte
the reste wylle saie;
Youre spryte wylle wrynne,
thatte Brystow ys yer place;
To honoures house I nede notte
marcke the waie; 655
Inne youre owne hartes you
maie the foote-pathe trace.
’Twexte shappe & us
there ys botte lyttelle space;
The tyme ys nowe to proove
yourselves bee menne;
Drawe forthe the bornyshed
bylle wythe fetyve grace,
Rouze, lyche a wolfynne rouzing
from hys denne. 660
Thus I enrone mie anlace;
goe thou shethe;
I’lle potte ytt ne ynn place, tyll
ytte ys sycke wythe deathe.
SOLDYERS.
Onn, AElla, onn; we longe
for bloddie fraie;
Wee longe to here the raven
synge yn vayne;
Onn, AElla, onn; we certys
gayne the daie, 665
Whanne thou doste leade us
to the leathal playne.
CELMONDE.
Thie speche, O Loverde, fyrethe
the whole trayne;
Theie pancte for war, as honted
wolves for breathe;
Go, & sytte crowned on corses
of the slayne;
Go, & ywielde the massie swerde
of deathe. 670
SOLDYERRES.
From thee, O AElla, alle oure
courage reygnes;
Echone yn phantasie do lede the Danes
ynne chaynes.
AELLA.
Mie countrymenne, mie friendes,
your noble sprytes
Speke yn youre eyne, & doe
yer master telle.
Swefte as the rayne-storme
toe the erthe alyghtes, 675
Soe wylle we fall upon these
royners felle.
Oure mowynge swerdes shalle
plonge hem downe to helle;
Theyre throngynge corses shall
onlyghte the starres;
The barrowes brastynge wythe
the sleene schall swelle,
Brynnynge[92] to commynge
tymes our famous warres; 680
Inne everie eyne I kenne the
lowe of myghte,
Sheenynge abrode, alyche a hylle-fyre
ynne the nyghte.
Whanne poyntelles of oure
famous fyghte shall saie,
Echone wylle marvelle atte
the dernie dede,
Echone wylle wyssen hee hanne
seene the daie, 685
And bravelie holped to make
the foemenn blede;
Botte for yer holpe oure battelle
wylle notte nede;
Oure force ys force enowe
to staie theyre honde;
Wee wylle retourne unto thys
grened mede,
Oer corses of the foemen of
the londe. 690
Nowe to the warre lette all
the slughornes sounde,
The Dacyanne troopes appere on yinder
rysynge grounde.
Chiefes, heade youre bandes, and leade.
DANES flyinge, neare WATCHETTE.
FYRSTE DANE.
Fly, fly, ye Danes; Magnus,
the chiefe, ys sleene;
The Saxonnes comme wythe AElla
atte theyre heade; 695
Lette’s strev to gette
awaie to yinder greene;
Flie, flie; thys ys the kyngdomme
of the deadde.
SECONDE DANE.
O goddes! have thousandes
bie mie anlace bledde,
And muste I nowe for safetie
flie awaie?
See! farre besprenged alle
oure troopes are spreade, 700
Yette I wylle synglie dare
the bloddie fraie.
Botte ne; I’lle flie,
& morther yn retrete;
Deathe, blodde, & fyre, scalle[93] marke
the goeynge of my feete.
THYRDE DANE.
Enthoghteynge forr to scape
the brondeynge foe,
As nere unto the byllowd beche
I came, 705
Farr offe I spied a fyghte
of myckle woe,
Oure spyrynge battayles wrapte
ynn sayles of flame.
The burled Dacyannes, who
were ynne the same,
Fro syde to syde fledde the
pursuyte of deathe;
The swelleynge fyre yer corrage
doe enflame, 710
Theie lepe ynto the sea, &
bobblynge yield yer breathe;
Whylest those thatt bee uponne
the bloddie playne,
Bee deathe-doomed captyves taene, or yn
the battle slayne.
HURRA.
Nowe bie the goddes, Magnus,
dyscourteous knyghte,
Bie cravente[94] havyoure
havethe don oure woe, 715
Dyspendynge all the talle
menne yn the fyghte,
And placeyng valourous menne
where draffs mote goe.
Sythence oure fourtunie havethe
tourned foe,
Gader the souldyers lefte
to future shappe,
To somme newe place for safetie
wee wylle goe, 720
Inne future daie wee wylle
have better happe.
Sounde the loude flughorne
for a quicke forloyne[95];
Lette alle the Dacyannes swythe untoe
oure banner joyne.
Throw hamlettes wee wylle
sprenge sadde dethe & dole,
Bathe yn hotte gore, & wasch
oureselves thereynne; 725
Goddes! here the Saxonnes
lyche a byllowe rolle.
I heere the anlacis detested
dynne.
Awaie, awaie, ye Danes, to
yonder penne;
Wee now wylle make forloyne yn tyme to
fyghte agenne.
CELMONDE, near WATCHETTE.
O forr a spryte al feere!
to telle the daie, 730
The daie whyche scal astounde
the herers rede,
Makeynge oure foemennes envyynge
hartes to blede,
Ybereynge thro the worlde oure rennomde
name for aie.
Bryghte sonne han ynne hys
roddie robes byn dyghte,
From the rodde Easte he flytted
wythe hys trayne, 735
The howers drewe awaie the
geete of nyghte,
Her sable tapistrie was rente
yn twayne.
The dauncynge streakes bedecked
heavennes playne,
And on the dewe dyd smyle
wythe shemrynge eie,
Lyche gottes of blodde whyche
doe blacke armoure steyne, 740
Sheenynge upon the borne[96]
whyche stondeth bie;
The souldyers stoode uponne
the hillis syde,
Lyche yonge enlefed trees whyche yn a
forreste byde.
AElla rose lyche the tree
besette wyth brieres;
Hys talle speere sheenynge
as the starres at nyghte, 745
Hys eyne ensemeynge as a lowe
of fyre;
Whanne he encheered everie
manne to fyghte,
Hys gentle wordes dyd moove
eche valourous knyghte;
Itte moovethe ’hem,
as honterres lyoncelle;
In trebled armoure ys theyre
courage dyghte; 750
Eche warrynge harte forr prayse
& rennome swelles;
Lyche flowelie dynnynge of
the croucheynge streme,
Syche dyd the mormrynge sounde of the
whol armie seme.
Hee ledes ’hem onne
to fyghte; oh! thenne to saie
How AElla loked, and lokyng
dyd encheere, 755
Moovynge alyche a mountayne
yn affraie,
Whanne a lowde whyrlevynde
doe yttes boesomme tare,
To telle howe everie loke
wulde banyshe feere,
Woulde aske an angelles poyntelle
or hys tyngue.
Lyche a talle rocke yatte
ryseth heaven-were, 760
Lyche a yonge wolfynne brondeous
& strynge,
Soe dydde he goe, & myghtie
warriours hedde;
Wythe gore-depycted wynges masterie arounde
hym fledde.
The battelle jyned; swerdes
uponne swerdes dyd rynge;
AElla was chased, as lyonns
madded bee; 765
Lyche fallynge starres, he
dydde the javlynn flynge;
Hys mightie anlace mightie
menne dyd slea;
Where he dydde comme, the
flemed[97] foe dydde flee,
Or felle benethe hys honde,
as fallynge rayne,
Wythe syke a fhuyrie he dydde
onn ’hemm dree, 770
Hylles of yer bowkes dyd ryse
opponne the playne;
AElla, thou arte—botte
staie, mie tynge; saie nee;
Howe greate I hymme maye make, stylle
greater hee wylle bee.
Nor dydde hys souldyerres
see hys actes yn vayne.
Heere a stoute Dane uponne
hys compheere felle; 775
Heere lorde & hyndlette sonke
uponne the playne;
Heere sonne & fadre trembled
ynto helle.
Chief Magnus sought hys waie,
&, shame to telle!
Hee soughte hys waie for flyghte;
botte AElla’s speere
Uponne the flyynge Dacyannes
schoulder felle. 780
Quyte throwe hys boddie, &
hys harte ytte tare,
He groned, & sonke uponne
the gorie greene,
And wythe hys corse encreased the pyles
of Dacyannes sleene.
Spente wythe the fyghte, the
Danyshe champyons stonde,
Lyche bulles, whose strengthe
& wondrous myghte ys fledde; 785
AElla, a javelynne grypped
yn eyther honde,
Flyes to the thronge, & doomes
two Dacyannes deadde.
After hys acte, the armie
all yspedde;
Fromm everich on unmyssynge
javlynnes flewe;
Theie straughte yer doughtie
swerdes; the foemenn bledde; 790
Fulle three of foure of myghtie
Danes dheie slewe;
The Danes, wythe terroure
rulynge att their head,
Threwe downe theyr bannere talle, & lyche
a ravenne fledde.
The soldyerres followed wythe
a myghtie crie,
Cryes, yatte welle myghte
the stouteste hartes affraie. 795
Swefte, as yer shyppes, the
vanquyshed Dacyannes flie;
Swefte, as the rayne uponne
an Aprylle daie,
Pressynge behynde, the Englysche
soldyerres slaie.
Botte halfe the tythes of
Danyshe menne remayne;
AElla commaundes ’heie
shoulde the sleetre staie, 800
Botte bynde ’hem prysonners
on the bloddie playne.
The fyghtynge beynge done,
I came awaie,
In odher fieldes to fyghte a moe unequalle
fraie.
Mie servant squyre!
CELMONDE, SERVITOURE.
CELMONDE.
Prepare a fleing horse,
Whose feete are wynges, whose
pace ys lycke the wynde, 805
Whoe wylle outestreppe the
morneynge lyghte yn course,
Leaveynge the gyttelles of
the merke behynde.
Somme hyltren matters doe
mie presence fynde.
Gyv oute to alle yatte I was
sleene ynne fyghte.
Gyff ynne thys gare thou doest
mie order mynde, 810
Whanne I returne, thou shalte
be made a knyghte;
Flie, flie, be gon; an howerre
ys a daie;
Quycke dyghte mie beste of stedes, & brynge
hymm heere—awaie!
CELMONDE.
AElla ys woundedd sore, &
ynne the toune
He waytethe, tylle hys woundes
bee broghte to ethe. 815
And shalle I from hys browes
plocke off the croune,
Makynge the vyctore yn hys
vyctorie blethe?
O no! fulle sooner schulde
mie hartes blodde smethe,
Fulle soonere woulde I tortured
bee toe deathe;
Botte—Birtha ys
the pryze; ahe! ytte were ethe
820
To gayne so gayne a pryze
wythe losse of breathe;
Botte thanne rennome aeterne[98]—ytte
ys botte ayre;
Bredde ynne the phantasie, & alleyn lyvynge
there.
Albeytte everyche thynge yn
lyfe conspyre
To telle me of the faulte
I nowe schulde doe, 825
Yette woulde I battentlie
assuage mie fyre,
And the same menes, as I scall
nowe, pursue.
The qualytyes I fro mie parentes
drewe,
Were blodde, & morther, masterie,
and warre;
Thie I wylle holde to now,
& hede ne moe 830
A wounde yn rennome, yanne
a boddie scarre.
Nowe, AElla, nowe Ime plantynge
of a thorne,
Bie whyche thie peace, thie love, & glorie
shalle be torne.
BRYSTOWE.
BIRTHA, EGWINA.
BIRTHA.
Gentle Egwina, do notte preche
me joie;
I cannotte joie ynne anie
thynge botte weere[99]. 835
Oh! yatte aughte schulde oure
sellynesse destroie,
Floddynge the face wythe woe,
& brynie teare!
EGWINA.
You muste, you muste endeavour
for to cheere
Youre harte unto somme cherisaunced
reste.
Youre loverde from the battelle
wylle appere. 840
Ynne honnoure, & a greater
love, be dreste;
Botte I wylle call the mynstrelles
roundelaie;
Perchaunce the swotie sounde maie chafe
your wiere[99] awaie.
BIRTHA, EGWINA, MYNSTRELLES.
MYNSTRELLES SONGE.
O! synge untoe mie roundelaie,
O! droppe the brynie teare
wythe mee, 845
Daunce ne moe atte hallie
daie,
Lycke a reynynge[100] ryver
bee;
Mie
love ys dedde,
Gon
to hys death-bedde,
Al
under the wyllowe tree.
850
Blacke hys cryne[101] as the
wyntere nyghte,
Whyte hys rode[102] as the
sommer snowe,
Rodde hys face as the mornynge
lyghte,
Cale he lyes ynne the grave
belowe;
Mie
love ys dedde,
855
Gon
to hys deathe-bedde,
Al
under the wyllowe tree.
Swote hys tyngue as the throstles
note,
Quycke ynn daunce as thoughte
canne bee,
Defte hys taboure, codgelle
stote, 860
O! hee lyes bie the wyllowe
tree:
Mie
love ys dedde,
Gonne
to hys deathe-bedde,
Alle
underre the wyllowe tree.
Harke! the ravenne flappes
hys wynge, 865
In the briered delle belowe;
Harke! the dethe-owle loude
dothe synge,
To the nyghte-mares as heie
goe;
Mie
love ys dedde,
Gonne
to hys deathe-bedde,
870
Al
under the wyllowe tree.
See! the whyte moone sheenes
onne hie;
Whyterre ys mie true loves
shroude;
Whyterre yanne the mornynge
skie,
Whyterre yanne the evenynge
cloude: 875
Mie
love ys dedde,
Gon
to hys deathe-bedde,
Al
under the wyllowe tree.
Heere, uponne mie true loves
grave,
Schalle the baren fleurs be
layde. 880
Nee one hallie Seyncte to
save
Al the celness of a mayde.
Mie
love ys dedde,
Gonne
to hys death-bedde,
Alle
under the wyllowe tree.
885
Wythe mie hondes I’lle
dente the brieres
Rounde his hallie corse to
gre,
Ouphante fairie, lyghte youre
fyres,
Heere mie boddie stylle schalle
bee.
Mie
love ys dedde,
890
Gon
to hys death-bedde,
Al
under the wyllowe tree.
Comme, wythe acorne-coppe
& thorne,
Drayne mie hartys blodde awaie;
Lyfe & all yttes goode I scorne,
895
Daunce bie nete, or feaste
by daie.
Mie
love ys dedde,
Gon
to hys death-bedde,
Al
under the wyllowe tree.
Waterre wytches, crownede
wythe reytes[103], 900
Bere mee to yer leathalle
tyde.
I die; I comme; mie true love
waytes.
Thos the damselle spake, and
dyed.
BIRTHA.
Thys syngeyng haveth whatte
coulde make ytte please;
Butte mie uncourtlie shappe benymmes mee
of all ease. 905
AELLA, atte WATCHETTE.
Curse onne mie tardie woundes!
brynge mee a stede!
I wylle awaie to Birtha bie
thys nyghte:
Albeytte fro mie woundes mie
soul doe blede,
I wylle awaie, & die wythynne
her syghte.
Brynge mee a stede, wythe
eagle-wynges for flyghte; 910
Swefte as mie wyshe, &, as
mie love ys, stronge.
The Danes have wroughte mee
myckle woe ynne syghte,
Inne kepeynge mee from Birtha’s
armes so longe.
O! whatte a dome was myne,
sythe masterie
Canne yeve ne pleasaunce, nor mie londes
goode leme myne eie! 915
Yee goddes, howe ys a loverres
temper formed!
Sometymes the samme thynge
wylle bothe bane, & blesse;
On tyme encalede[104], yanne
bie the same thynge warmd,
Estroughted foorthe, and yanne
ybrogten less.
’Tys Birtha’s
loss whyche doe mie thoughtes possesse;
920
I wylle, I muste awaie:
whie staies mie stede?
Mie huscarles, hyther haste;
prepare a dresse,
Whyche couracyers[105] yn
hastie journies nede.
O heavens! I moste awaie
to Byrtha eyne,
For yn her lookes I fynde mie beynge doe
entwyne. 925
CELMONDE, att BRYSTOWE.
The worlde ys darke wythe
nyghte; the wyndes are stylle;
Fayntelie the mone her palyde
lyghte makes gleme;
The upryste[106] sprytes the
sylente letten[107] fylle,
Wythe ouphant faeryes joynyng
ynne the dreme;
The forreste sheenethe wythe
the sylver leme; 930
Nowe maie mie love be sated
ynn yttes treate;
Uponne the lynche of somme
swefte reynyng streme,
Att the swote banquette I
wylle swotelie eate.
Thys ys the howse; yee hyndes,
swythyn appere.
CELMONDE, SERVYTOURE.
CELMONDE.
Go telle to Birtha strayte, a straungerr waytethe here. 935
CELMONDE, BIRTHA.
BIRTHA.
Celmonde! yee seynctes! I hope thou haste goode newes.
CELMONDE.
The hope ys loste: for heavie newes prepare.
BIRTHA.
Is AElla welle?
CELMONDE.
Hee lyves; & stylle maie use
The behylte[108] blessynges
of a future yeare.
BIRTHA.
Whatte heavie tydynge thenne have I to
feare? 940
Of whatte mischaunce dydste thou so latelie
saie?
CELMONDE.
For heavie tydynges swythyn
nowe prepare.
AElla sore wounded ys, yn
bykerous fraie;
In Wedecester’s wallid
toune he lyes.
BIRTHA.
O mie agroted breast!
CELMONDE:
Wythoute your syghte, he dyes. 945
BIRTHA.
Wylle Birtha’s presence
ethe herr AElla’s payne?
I flie; newe wynges doe from
mie schoulderrs sprynge.
CELMONDE.
Mie stede wydhoute wylle deftelie beere us twayne.
BIRTHA.
Oh! I wyll flie as wynde,
& no waie lynge;
Sweftlie caparisons for rydynge
brynge; 950
I have a mynde wynged wythe
the levyn ploome.
O AElla, AElla! dydste thou
kenne the stynge,
The whyche doeth canker ynne
mie hartys roome,
Thou wouldste see playne thieselfe
the gare to bee;
Aryse, uponne thie love, & flie to meeten
mee. 955
CELMONDE.
The stede, on whyche I came,
ys swefte as ayre;
Mie servytoures doe wayte
mee nere the wode;
Swythynne wythe mee unto the
place repayre;
To AElla I wylle gev you conducte
goode.
Youre eyne, alyche a baulme,
wylle staunche hys bloode, 960
Holpe oppe hys woundes, &
yev hys harte alle cheere;
Uponne your eyne he holdes
hys lyvelyhode[109];
You doe hys spryte, & alle
hys pleasaunce bere.
Comme, lette’s awaie,
albeytte ytte ys moke,
Yette love wille bee a tore to tourne
to feere nyghtes smoke. 965
BIRTHA.
Albeytte unwears dyd the welkynn
rende,
Reyne, alyche fallynge ryvers,
dyd ferse bee,
Erthe wythe the ayre enchased
dyd contende,
Everychone breathe of wynde
wythe plagues dyd flee,
Yette I to AElla’s eyne
eftsoones woulde flee; 970
Albeytte hawethornes dyd mie
fleshe enseme,
Owlettes, wythe scrychynge,
shakeynge everyche tree,
And water-neders wrygglynge
yn eche streme,
Yette woulde I flie, ne under
coverte staie,
Botte seke mie AElla owte; brave Celmonde,
leade the waie. 975
A WODE.
HURRA, DANES.
HURRA.
Heere ynn yis forreste lette
us watche for pree,
Bewreckeynge on oure foemenne
oure ylle warre;
Whatteverre schalle be Englysch
wee wylle slea,
Spreddynge our ugsomme rennome
to afarre.
Ye Dacyanne menne, gyff Dacyanne
menne yee are, 980
Lette nete botte blodde suffycyle
The battelle loste, a battelle
was yndede;
Note queedes hemselfes culde
stonde so harde a fraie;
Oure verie armoure, & oure
heaulmes dyd blede,
The Dacyannes, sprytes, lyche
dewe drops, fledde awaie.
Ytte was an AElla dyd commaunde
the daie; 990
Ynn spyte of foemanne, I moste
saie hys myghte;
Botte wee ynn hynd-lettes
blodde the loss wylle paie,
Brynnynge, thatte we knowe
howe to wynne yn fyghte;
Wee wylle, lyke wylfes enloosed
from chaynes, destroie;—
Oure armoures—wynter
nyghte shotte oute the daie of joie. 995
Whene swefte-fote tyme doe
rolle the daie alonge,
Somme hamlette scalle onto
oure fhuyrie brende;
Brastynge alyche a rocke,
or mountayne stronge,
The talle chyrche-spyre upon
the grene shalle bende;
Wee wylle the walles, & auntyante
tourrettes rende, 1000
Pete everych tree whych goldyn
fruyte doe beere,
Downe to the goddes the ownerrs
dhereof sende,
Besprengynge alle abrode sadde warre &
bloddie weere.
Botte fyrste to yynder oke-tree
wee wylle flie;
And thence wylle yssue owte onne all yatte
commeth bie. 1005
ANODHER PARTE OF THE WOODE.
CELMONDE, BIRTHA.
BIRTHA.
Thys merkness doe affraie
mie wommanns breaste.
Howe sable ys the spreddynge
skie arrayde!
Hailie the bordeleire, who
lyves to reste,
Ne ys att nyghtys flemynge
hue dysmayde;
The starres doe scantillie[110]
the sable brayde; 1010
Wyde ys the sylver lemes of
comforte wove;
Speke, Celmonde, does ytte
make thee notte afrayde?
CELMONDE.
Merker the nyghte, the fitter tyde for love.
BIRTHA.
Saiest thou for love? ah!
love is far awaie.
Faygne would I see once moe the roddie
lemes of daie. 1015
CELMONDE.
Love maie bee nie, woulde Birtha calle ytte here.
BIRTHA.
How, Celmonde, dothe thou mene?
CELMONDE.
Thys Celmonde
menes.
No leme, no eyne, ne mortalle
manne appere,
Ne lyghte, an acte of love
for to bewreene;
Nete in thys forreste, botte
thys tore[111], dothe sheene, 1020
The whych, potte oute, do
leave the whole yn nyghte;
See! howe the brauncynge trees
doe here entwyne,
Makeynge thys bower so pleasynge
to the syghte;
Thys was for love fyrste made,
& heere ytt stondes,
Thatte hereynne lovers maie enlyncke yn
true loves bondes. 1025
BIRTHA.
Celmonde, speake whatte thou
menest, or alse mie thoughtes
Perchaunce maie robbe thie
honestie so fayre.
CELMONDE.
Then here, & knowe, hereto
I have you broughte,
Mie longe hydde love unto
you to make clere.
BIRTHA.
Oh heaven & earthe! whatte ys ytt
I doe heare? 1030
Am I betraste[112]? where ys mie AElla, saie!
CELMONDE.
O! do nete nowe to AElla syke love
bere,
Botte geven some onne Celmondes hedde.
BIRTHA.
Awaie!
I wylle be gone, & groape
mie passage oute,
Albeytte neders stynges mie legs do twyne
aboute. 1035
CELMONDE.
Nowe bie the seynctes I wylle notte
lette thee goe,
Ontylle thou doeste mie brendynge love amate.
Those eyne have caused Celmonde myckle woe,
Yenne lette yer smyle fyrst take hymm yn regrate.
O! didst thou see mie breastis troblous state,
1040
Theere love doth harrie up mie joie, and ethe!
I wretched bee, beyonde the hele of fate,
Gyss Birtha stylle wylle make mie harte-veynes
blethe.
Softe as the sommer flowreets, Birtha, looke,
Fulle ylle I canne thie frownes & harde dyspleasaunce
brooke. 1045
BIRTHA.
Thie love ys foule; I woulde
bee deafe for aie,
Radher thanne heere syche
deslavatie[113] sedde.
Swythynne flie from mee, and
ne further saie;
Radher thanne heare thie love,
I woulde bee dead.
Yee seynctes! & shal I wronge
mie AElla’s bedde, 1050
And wouldst thou, Celmonde,
tempte me to the thynge?
Lett mee be gone—alle
curses onne thie hedde!
Was ytte for thys thou dydste
a message brynge!
Lette mee be gone, thou manne
of sable harte!
Or welkyn[114] & her starres wyll take
a maydens parte. 1055
CELMONDE.
Sythence you wylle notte lette
mie suyte avele,
Mie love wylle have yttes
joie, altho wythe guylte;
Youre lymbes shall bende,
albeytte strynge as stele;
The merkye seesonne wylle
your bloshes hylte[115].
BIRTHA.
Holpe, holpe, yee seynctes! oh thatte mie blodde was spylte! 1060
CELMONDE.
The seynctes att distaunce
stonde ynn tyme of nede.
Strev notte to goe; thou canste
notte, gyff thou wylte.
Unto mie wysche bee kinde,
& nete alse hede.
BIRTHA.
No, foule bestoykerre, I wylle
rende the ayre,
Tylle dethe do staie mie dynne, or somme
kynde roder heare. 1065
Holpe! holpe! oh godde!
CELMONDE, BIRTHA, HURRA, DANES.
HURRA.
Ah!
thatts a wommanne cries.
I kenn hem; saie, who are
you, yatte bee theere?
CELMONDE.
Yee hyndes, awaie! orre bie thys swerde yee dies.
HURRA.
Thie wordes wylle ne mie hartis sete affere.
BIRTHA.
Save mee, oh! save mee from thys royner heere! 1070
HURRA.
Stonde thou bie mee; nowe
saie thie name & londe;
Or swythyne schall mie swerde
thie boddie tare.
CELMONDE.
Bothe I wylle shewe thee bie mie brondeous[116] honde.
HURRA.
Besette hym rounde, yee Danes.
CELMONDE.
Comme onne, and see
Gyff mie strynge anlace maie bewryen whatte
I bee. 1075
[Fyghte al anenste
Celmonde, meynte Danes he fleath,
and faleth
to Hurra.
CELMONDE.
Oh! I forslagen[117] be! ye Danes, now kenne,
I amme yatte Celmonde, seconde yn the fyghte,
Who dydd, atte Watchette, so forslege youre menne;
I fele myne eyne to swymme yn aeterne nyghte;—
To her be kynde. [Dieth.
HURRA.
Thenne
felle a wordhie knyghte. 1080
Saie, who bee you?
BIRTHA.
I am greate AElla’s wyfe.
HURRA.
Ah
BIRTHA.
Gyff anenste hym you harboure
soule despyte,
Nowe wythe the lethal anlace
take mie lyfe,
Mie thankes I ever onne you
wylle bestowe,
From ewbryce[118] you mee pyghte, the
worste of mortal woe. 1085
HURRA.
I wylle; ytte scalle bee foe:
yee Dacyans, heere.
Thys AElla havethe been oure
foe for aie.
Thorrowe the battelle he dyd
brondeous teare,
Beyng the lyfe and head of
everych fraie;
From everych Dacyanne power
he won the daie, 1090
Forslagen Magnus, all oure
schippes ybrente;
Bie hys felle arme wee now
are made to straie;
The speere of Dacya he ynne
pieces shente;
Whanne hantoned barckes unto
our londe dyd comme,
AElla the gare dheie sed, & wysched hym
bytter dome. 1095
BIRTHA.
Mercie!
HURRA.
Bee stylle.
Botte yette he ys a foemanne
goode and fayre;
Whanne wee are spente, he
foundethe the forloyne;
The captyves chayne he tosseth
ynne the ayre,
Cheered the wounded bothe
wythe bredde & wyne;
Has hee notte untoe somme
of you bynn dygne? 1100
You would have smethd onne
Wedecestrian fielde,
Botte hee behylte the flughorne
for to cleyne,
Throwynge onne hys wyde backe,
hys wyder spreddynge shielde.
Whanne you, as caytysned,
yn fielde dyd bee,
Hee oathed you to bee stylle, & strayte
dydd sette you free. 1105
Scalle wee forslege[119] hys
wyfe, because he’s brave?
Bicaus hee fyghteth for hys
countryes gare?
Wylle hee, who havith bynne
yis AElla’s slave,
Robbe hym of whatte percase
he holdith deere?
Or scalle we menne of mennys
sprytes appere, 1110
Doeynge hym favoure for hys
favoure donne,
Swefte to hys pallace thys
damoiselle bere,
Bewrynne oure case, and to
oure waie be gonne?
The last you do approve; so
lette ytte bee;
Damoyselle, comme awaie; you safe scalle
bee wythe mee. 1115
BIRTHA.
Al blessynges maie the seynctes
unto yee gyve!
Al pleasaunce maie youre longe-straughte
livynges bee!
AElla, whanne knowynge thatte
bie you I lyve,
Wylle thyncke too smalle a
guyfte the londe & sea.
O Celmonde! I maie deftlie
rede bie thee, 1120
Whatte ille betydethe the
enfouled kynde;
Maie ne thie cross-stone[120]
of thie cryme bewree!
Maie alle menne ken thie valoure,
fewe thie mynde!
Soldyer! for syke thou arte
ynn noble fraie,
I wylle thie goinges ’tende, & doe
thou lede the waie. 1125
HURRA.
The mornynge ’gyns alonge
the Easte to sheene;
Darklinge the lyghte doe onne the waters
plaie;
The feynte rodde leme slowe
creepeth oere the greene,
Toe chase the merkyness of
nyghte awaie;
Swifte flies the howers thatte
wylle brynge oute the daie; 1130
The softe dewe falleth onne
the greeynge grasse;
The shepster mayden, dyghtynge
her arraie,
Scante[121] sees her vysage
yn the wavie glasse;
Bie the fulle daylieghte wee
scalle AElla see.
Or Brystowes wallyd towne; damoyselle,
followe mee. 1135
AT BRYSTOWE.
AELLA AND SERVITOURES.
AELLA.
’Tys nowe fulle morne;
I thoughten, bie laste nyghte
To have been heere; mie stede
han notte mie love;
Thys ys mie pallace; lette
mie hyndes alyghte,
Whylste I goe oppe, & wake
mie slepeynge dove.
Staie here, mie hyndlettes;
I shal goe above. 1140
Nowe. Birtha, wyll thie
loke enhele mie spryte,
Thie smyles unto mie woundes
a baulme wylle prove;
Mie ledanne boddie wylle bee
sette aryghte.
Egwina, haste, & ope the portalle
doore,
Yatte I on Birtha’s breste maie
thynke of warre ne more. 1145
AELLA, EGWINA.
EGWINA.
Oh AElla!
AELLA.
Ah!
that semmlykeene to mee
Speeketh a legendary tale
of woe.
EGWINA.
Birtha is—
AELLA.
Whatt? where? how? saie, whatte of shee?
EGWINA.
Gone—
AELLA.
Gone! ye goddes!
EGWINA.
Alas!
ytte ys toe true.
Yee seynctes, hee dies awaie
wythe myckle woe! 1150
AElla! what? AElla! oh!
hee lyves agen.
AELLA.
Cal mee notte AElla; I am hymme
ne moe.
Where ys shee gon awaie? ah! speake! how? when?
EGWINA.
I will.
AELLA.
Caparyson
a score of stedes; flie, flie.
Where ys shee? swythynne speeke,
or instante thou shalte die. 1155
EGWINA.
Stylle thie loud rage, & here thou whatte I knowe.
AELLA.
Oh! speek.
EGWINA.
Lyche prymrose, droopynge wythe
the heavie rayne,
Laste nyghte I lefte her, droopynge wythe her
wiere,
Her love the gare, thatte gave her harte syke
peyne—
AELLA.
Her love! to whomme?
EGWINA.
To
thee, her spouse alleyne[122].
1160
As ys mie hentylle everyche
morne to goe,
I wente, and oped her chamber
doore ynn twayne,
Botte found her notte, as
I was wont to doe;
Thanne alle arounde the pallace
I dyd seere[123],
Botte culde (to mie hartes woe) ne fynde
her anie wheere. 1165
AELLA.
Thou lyest, foul hagge! thou lyest;
thou art her ayde
To chere her louste;—botte noe; ytte
cannotte bee.
EGWINA.
Gyff trouthe appear notte
inne whatte I have sayde,
Drawe forthe thie anlace swythyn,
thanne mee flea.
AELLA.
Botte yette ytte muste, ytte
muste bee foe; I see, 1170
Shee wythe somme loustie paramoure
ys gone;
Itte moste bee foe—oh!
how ytte wracketh mee!
Mie race of love, mie race
of lyfe ys ronne;
Nowe rage, & brondeous storm,
& tempeste comme;
Nete lyvynge upon erthe can now enswote
mie domme. 1175
AELLA, EGWINA, SERVYTOURE.
SERVYTOURE.
Loverde! I am aboute
the trouthe to saie.
Laste nyghte, fulle late I
dydde retourne to reste.
As to mie chamber I dydde
bende mie waie,
To Birtha onne hys name &
place addreste;
Downe to hym camme shee; butte
thereof the reste 1180
I ken ne matter; so, mie hommage
made—
AELLA.
O! speake ne moe; mie harte
flames yn yttes heste;
I once was AElla; nowe bee
notte yttes shade.
Hanne alle the fuirie of mysfortunes
wylle
Fallen onne mie benned[124] headde I hanne
been AElla stylle. 1185
Thys alleyn was unburled[125] of
alle mie spryte;
Mie honnoure, honnoure, frownd on the dolce[126]
wynde,
Thatte steeked on ytte; nowe wyth rage Im pyghte;
A brondeous unweere ys mie engyned mynde.
Mie hommeur yette somme drybblet joie maie fynde,
1190
To the Danes woundes I wylle another yeve;
Whanne thos mie rennome[127] & mie peace ys rynde,
Itte were a recrandize to thyncke toe lyve;
Mie huscarles, untoe everie asker telle,
Gyffe noblie AElla lyved, as noblie AElla felle.
1195
[Stabbeth hys breste.
SERVYTOURE.
AElla ys sleene; the flower of Englonde’s marrde!
AELLA.
Be stylle: swythe lette the chyrches rynge mie knelle.
Call hyther brave Coernyke; he, as warde
Of thys mie Brystowe castle, wyll doe welle.
[Knelle ryngeth.
AELLA, EGWINA, SERVYTOURE, COERNYKE.
AELLA.
Thee I ordeyne the warde;
so alle maie telle. 1200
I have botte lyttel tym to
dragge thys lyfe;
Mie lethal tale, alyche a
lethalle belle,
Dynne yn the eares of her
I wyschd mie wyfe!
Botte, ah! shee maie be fayre.
EGWINA.
Yatte shee moste bee.
AELLA.
Ah! saie notte foe; yatte worde woulde AElla dobblie flee. 1205
AELLA, EGWINA, SERVYTOURE, COERNYKE, BIRTHA, HURRA.
AELLA.
Ah! Birtha here!
BIRTHA.
Whatte dynne ys thys? whatte
menes yis leathalle knelle?
Where ys mie AElla? speeke;
where? howe ys hee?
Oh AElla! art thou yanne alyve
and welle!
AELLA.
I lyve yndeed; botte doe notte lyve for thee.
BIRTHA.
Whatte menes mie AElla?
AELLA.
Here mie meneynge
see. 1210
Thie foulness urged mie honde to gyve thys wounde,
Ytte mee unsprytes[128].
BIRTHA.
Ytte hathe unspryted mee.
AELLA.
Ah heavens! mie Birtha fallethe
to the grounde!
Botte yette I am a manne, and so wylle bee.
HURRA.
AElla! I amme a Dane; botte yette a friende to thee. 1215
Thys damoyselle I founde wythynne
a woode,
Strevynge fulle harde anenste
a burled swayne;
I sente hym myrynge ynne mie
compheeres blodde,
Celmonde hys name, chief of
thie warrynge trayne.
Yis damoiselle foughte to
be here agayne; 1220
The whyche, albeytte foemen,
wee dydd wylle;
So here wee broughte her wythe
you to remayne.
COERNIKE.
Yee nobylle Danes! wythe goulde I wyll you fylle.
AELLA.
Birtha, mie lyfe! mie love!
oh! she ys fayre.
Whatte faultes coulde Birtha have, whatte
faultes could AElla feare?
BIRTHA.
Amm I yenne thyne? I
cannotte blame thie feere.
Botte doe reste mee uponne
mie AElla’s breaste;
I wylle to thee bewryen the
woefulle gare.
Celmonde dyd comme to mee
at tyme of reste,
Wordeynge for mee to flie,
att your requeste, 1230
To Watchette towne, where
you deceasynge laie;
I wyth hym fledde; thro’
a murke wode we preste,
Where hee foule love unto
mie eares dyd saie;
The Danes—
AELLA.
Oh! I die contente.— [dieth.
BIRTHA.
Oh! ys
mie AElla dedde?
O! I will make hys grave mie vyrgyn spousal
bedde. 1235
[Birtha feyncteth.
COERNYKE.
Whatt? AElla deadde! & Birtha
dyynge toe!
Soe falles the fayrest flourettes of the playne.
Who canne unplyte the wurchys heaven can doe,
Or who untweste the role of shappe yn twayne?
AElla, thie rennome was thie onlie gayne;
1240
For yatte, thie pleasaunce, & thie joie was loste.
Thie countrymen shall rere thee, on the playne,
A pyle of carnes, as anie grave can boaste;
Further, a just amede to thee to bee,
Inne heaven thou synge of Godde, on erthe we’lle
synge of thee. 1245
THE ENDE.
[Footnote 1: robes, mantels.]
[Footnote 2: a pen.]
[Footnote 3: express.]
[Footnote 4: countenance.]
[Footnote 5: covered.]
[Footnote 6: such.]
[Footnote 7: another.]
[Footnote 8: at once.]
[Footnote 9: mighty.]
[Footnote 10: hardy, valourous.]
[Footnote 11: violence.]
[Footnote 12: binding, enforcing.]
[Footnote 13: fate.]
[Footnote 14: lessen, decrease.]
[Footnote 15: faith.]
[Footnote 16: blinded.]
[Footnote 17: lights, rays.]
[Footnote 18: fellows, equals.]
[Footnote 19: disdainful.]
[Footnote 20: presents, offerings.]
[Footnote 21: scarfs.]
[Footnote 22: robes of scarlet.]
[Footnote 23: bounded.]
[Footnote 24: large.]
[Footnote 25: elephants.]
[Footnote 26: destroy.]
[Footnote 27: stretched.]
[Footnote 28: services.]
[Footnote 29: memory, understanding.]
[Footnote 30: Shepherd.]
[Footnote 31: deceiver.]
[Footnote 32: meadows.]
[Footnote 33: The black bird.]
[Footnote 34: Gold-finch.]
[Footnote 35: loudly.]
[Footnote 36: lectures.]
[Footnote 37: Apparel.]
[Footnote 38: At once.]
[Footnote 39: a divine.]
[Footnote 40: A cottage.]
[Footnote 41: Lord.]
[Footnote 42: stretch.]
[Footnote 43: tender.]
[Footnote 44: Naked.]
[Footnote 45: Hot.]
[Footnote 46: health.]
[Footnote 47: Quickly.]
[Footnote 48: Laughable.]
[Footnote 49: Drouned.]
[Footnote 50: Stilled, quenched.]
[Footnote 51: Swelling.]
[Footnote 52: Body, substance.]
[Footnote 53: Still, dead.]
[Footnote 54: arrows, darts.]
[Footnote 55: Terrible.]
[Footnote 56: Offended.]
[Footnote 57: upbraiding.]
[Footnote 58: cease.]
[Footnote 59: swollen.]
[Footnote 60: Torture.]
[Footnote 61: asswage.]
[Footnote 62: difficult.]
[Footnote 63: Jewels.]
[Footnote 64: stay.]
[Footnote 65: Wrapped closely, covered.]
[Footnote 66: fastened.]
[Footnote 67: astonish’d.]
[Footnote 68: Naked.]
[Footnote 69: Scatterest.]
[Footnote 70: Strange.]
[Footnote 71: Quickly.]
[Footnote 72: offerings.]
[Footnote 73: mantels.]
[Footnote 74: Enlighten.]
[Footnote 75: Least.]
[Editor’s note: l. 467 see Introduction p. xli]
[Footnote 76: Against.]
[Footnote 77: Work.]
[Editor’s note: l. 489 sphere: see note on p. xli]
[Footnote 78: Terror.]
[Footnote 79: cowards.]
[Footnote 80: Wave.]
[Footnote 81: Contentions.]
[Footnote 82: frighted.]
[Footnote 83: Lose.]
[Footnote 84: Child.]
[Footnote 85: Fate-scourged.]
[Footnote 86: flamed, fired.]
[Footnote 87: lighted.]
[Footnote 88: dead.]
[Footnote 89: blasting.]
[Footnote 90: swallows, sucks in.]
[Footnote 91: unaccustomed.]
[Footnote 92: Declaring.]
[Footnote 93: Shall.]
[Footnote 94: Coward.]
[Footnote 95: Retreat.]
[Footnote 96: Burnish.]
[Footnote 97: Frighted.]
[Footnote 98: Eternal.]
[Footnote 99: Grief.]
[Footnote 100: Running.]
[Footnote 101: hair.]
[Footnote 102: complexion.]
[Footnote 103: Water-flags.]
[Footnote 104: Frozen, cold.]
[Footnote 105: horse coursers, couriers.]
[Footnote 106: Risen.]
[Footnote 107: church-yard.]
[Footnote 108: Promised.]
[Footnote 109: Life.]
[Footnote 110: Scarcely, sparingly.]
[Footnote 111: Torch.]
[Footnote 112: Betrayed.]
[Footnote 113: Letchery.]
[Footnote 114: heaven.]
[Footnote 115: hide.]
[Footnote 116: Furious.]
[Footnote 117: slain.]
[Footnote 118: Adultery.]
[Footnote 119: Slay.]
[Footnote 120: Monument.]
[Footnote 121: Scarce.]
[Footnote 122: Only, alone.]
[Footnote 123: Search.]
[Footnote 124: Cursed, tormented.]
[Footnote 125: unarmed.]
[Footnote 126: soft, gentle.]
[Footnote 127: renown.]
[Footnote 128: Un-souls.]
A TRAGEDIE.
BY THOMAS ROWLEIE.
HAROLDE, bie T. Rowleie, the Aucthoure. GODDWYN, bie Johan de Iscamme. ELWARDE, bie Syrr Thybbot Gorges. ALSTAN, bie Syrr Alan de Vere. KYNGE EDWARDE, bie Mastre Willyam Canynge.
Odhers bie Knyghtes Mynnstrells.
PROLOGUE,
Made bie Maistre WILLIAM CANYNGE.
Whylomme[1]bie pensmenne[2]
moke[3] ungentle[4] name
Have upon Goddwynne Erie of
Kente bin layde:
Dherebie benymmynge[5] hymme
of faie[6] and fame;
Unliart[7] divinistres[8]
haveth faide,
Thatte he was knowen toe noe
hallie[9] wurche[10]; 5
Botte thys was all hys faulte, he gyfted
ne[11] the churche.
The aucthoure[12] of the piece
whiche we enacte,
Albeytte[13] a clergyon[14],
trouthe wyll wrytte.
Inne drawynge of hys menne
no wytte ys lackte;
Entyn[15] a kynge mote[16]
bee full pleased to nyghte. 10
Attende, and marcke the partes
nowe to be done;
Wee better for toe doe do
champyon[17] anie onne.
GODDWYN; A TRAGEDIE.
GODDWYN AND HAROLDE.
GODDWYN.
Harolde!
HAROLDE.
Mie loverde[18]!
GODDWYN.
O! I weepe to thyncke,
What foemen[19] riseth to ifrete[20] the londe.
Theie batten[21] onne her fleshe, her hartes bloude dryncke,
And all ys graunted from the roieal honde.
HAROLDE.
Lette notte thie agreme[22] blyn[23], ne aledge[24] stonde; 5
Bee I toe wepe, I wepe in teres of gore:
Am I betrassed[25], syke[26] shulde mie burlie[27] bronde
Depeyncte[28] the wronges on hym from whom I bore.
GODDWYN.
I ken thie spryte[29] ful welle; gentle thou art,
Stringe[30], ugsomme[31], rou[32], as smethynge[33] armyes seeme; 10
Yett efte[34], I feare, thie chefes[35] toe grete a parte,
And that thie rede[36] bee efte borne downe bie breme[37].
What tydynges from the kynge?
HAROLDE.
His
Normans know.
I make noe compheeres of the
shemrynge[38] trayne.
GODDWYN.
Ah Harolde! tis a syghte of myckle
woe, 15
To kenne these Normannes everich rennome gayne.
What tydynge withe the foulke[39]?
HAROLDE.
Stylle mormorynge atte yer
shap[40], stylle toe the kynge
Theie rolle theire trobbles,
lyche a sorgie sea.
Hane Englonde thenne a tongue,
butte notte a stynge? 20
Dothe alle compleyne, yette
none wylle ryghted bee?
GODDWYN.
Awayte the tyme, whanne Godde wylle sende us ayde.
HAROLDE.
No, we muste streve to ayde
oureselves wyth powre.
Whan Godde wylle sende us
ayde! tis fetelie[41] prayde.
Moste we those calke[42] awaie
the lyve-longe howre? 25
Thos croche[43] oure armes,
and ne toe lyve dareygne[44].
Unburled[45] undelievre[46],
unespryte[47]?
Far fro mie harte be fled
thyk[48] thoughte of peyne,
Ile free mie countrie, or
Ille die yn fyghte.
GODDWYN.
Botte lette us wayte untylle
somme season fytte. 30
Mie Kentyshmen, thie Summertons
shall ryse;
Adented[49] prowess[50] to
the gite[51] of witte,
Agayne the argent[52] horse
shall daunce yn skies.
Oh Harolde, heere forstraughteynge[53]
wanhope[54] lies.
Englonde, oh Englonde, tys
for thee I blethe[55]. 35
Whylste Edwarde to thie sonnes
wylle nete alyse[56],
Shulde anie of thie sonnes
fele aughte of ethe[57]?
Upponne the trone[58] I sette
thee, helde thie crowne;
Botte oh! twere hommage nowe to pyghte[59]
thee downe.
Thou arte all preeste, & notheynge
of the kynge. 40
Thou arte all Norman, nothynge
of mie blodde.
Know, ytte beseies[60] thee
notte a masse to synge;
Servynge thie leegefolcke[61]
thou arte servynge Godde.
HAROLDE.
Thenne Ille doe heaven a servyce.
To the skyes
The dailie contekes[62] of
the londe ascende. 45
The wyddowe, fahdrelesse,
& bondemennes cries
Acheke[63] the mokie[64] aire
& heaven astende[65]
On us the rulers doe the folcke
depende;
Hancelled[66] from erthe these
Normanne[67] hyndes shalle bee;
Lyche a battently[68] low[69],
mie swerde shalle brende[70]; 50
Lyche fallynge softe rayne
droppes, I wyll hem[71] slea[72];
Wee wayte too longe; our purpose
wylle defayte[73];
Aboune[74] the hyghe empryze[75], & rouze
the champyones strayte.
GODDWYN.
Thie suster—
HAROLDE.
Aye,
I knowe, she is his queene.
Albeytte[76], dyd shee speeke
her foemen[77] fayre, 55
I wulde dequace[78] her comlie
semlykeene[79],
And foulde mie bloddie anlace[80]
yn her hayre.
GODDWYN.
Thye fhuir[81] blyn[82].
HAROLDE.
No,
bydde the leathal[83] mere[84]
Upriste[85] withe hiltrene[86]
wyndes & cause unkend[87],
Beheste[88] it to be lete[89];
so twylle appeare, 60
Eere Harolde hyde hys name,
his contries frende.
The gule-steynct[90] brygandyne[91],
the adventayle[92],
The feerie anlace[92] brede[93] shal make
mie gare[94] prevayle.
GODDWYN.
Harolde, what wuldest doe?
HAROLDE.
Bethyncke thee whatt.
Here liethe Englonde, all
her drites [95] unfree, 65
Here liethe Normans coupynge[96]
her bie lotte,
Caltysnyng[97] everich native
plante to gre[98],
Whatte woulde I doe?
I brondeous[99] wulde hem slee[100];
Tare owte theyre sable harte
bie ryghtefulle breme[101];
Theyre deathe a meanes untoe
mie lyfe shulde bee, 70
Mie spryte shulde revelle
yn theyr harte-blodde streme.
Eftsoones I wylle bewryne[102]
mie ragefulle ire,
And Goddis anlace[103] wielde yn furie
dyre.
GODDWYN.
Whatte wouldest thou wythe the kynge?
HAROLDE.
Take
offe hys crowne;
The ruler of somme mynster[104]
hym ordeyne; 75
Sette uppe fom dygner[105]
than I han pyghte[106] downe;
And peace in Englonde shulde
be brayd[107] agayne.
GODDWYN.
No, lette the super-hallie[108]
seyncte kynge reygne,
Ande somme moe reded[109] rule the untentyff[110]
reaulme;
Kynge Edwarde, yn hys cortesie, wylle deygne
80
To yielde the spoiles, and alleyne were the heaulme:
Botte from mee harte bee everych thoughte of gayne,
Not anie of mie kin I wysche him to ordeyne.
HAROLDE.
Tell me the meenes, and I
wylle boute ytte strayte;
Bete[111] mee to slea[112]
mieself, ytte shalle be done. 85
GODDWYN.
To thee I wylle swythynne[113]
the menes unplayte[114],
Bie whyche thou, Harolde,
shalte be proved mie sonne.
I have longe seen whatte peynes
were undergon,
Whatte agrames[115] braunce[116]
out from the general tree;
The tyme ys commynge, whan
the mollock[117] gron[118] 90
Drented[119] of alle yts swolynge[120]
owndes[121] shalle bee;
Mie remedie is goode; our
menne shall ryse:
Eftsoons the Normans and owre agrame[122]
flies.
HAROLDE.
I will to the West, and gemote[123]
alle mie knyghtes,
Wythe bylles that pancte for
blodde, and sheeldes as brede[124] 95
As the ybroched[125] moon,
when blaunch[126] shedyghtes[127]
The wodeland grounde or water-mantled
mede;
Wythe hondes whose myghte
canne make the doughtiest[128] blede,
Who efte have knelte upon
forslagen[129] foes,
Whoe wythe yer fote orrests[130]
a castle-stede[131], 100
Who dare on kynges for to
bewrecke[123] yiere woes;
Nowe wylle the menne of Englonde
haile the daie,
Whan Goddwyn leades them to the ryghtfulle
fraie.
GODDWYN.
Botte firste we’ll call
the loverdes of the West,
The erles of Mercia, Conventrie
and all; 105
The moe wee gayne, the gare[133]
wylle prosper beste,
Wythe syke a nomber wee can
never fall.
HAROLDE.
True, so wee sal doe best
to lyncke the chayne,
And alle attenes[134] the
spreddynge kyngedomme bynde.
No crouched[135] champyone
wythe an harte moe feygne 100
Dyd yssue owte the hallie[136]
swerde to fynde,
Than I nowe strev to ryd mie
londe of peyne.
Goddwyn, what thanckes owre
laboures wylle enhepe!
I’lle ryse mie friendes
unto the bloddie pleyne;
I’lle wake the honnoure
thatte ys now aslepe. 115
When wylle the chiefes mete
atte thie feastive halle,
That I wythe voice alowde maie there upon
’em calle?
GODDWYN.
Next eve, mie sonne.
HAROLDE.
Nowe, Englonde, ys the tyme,
Whan thee or thie felle foemens
cause moste die.
Thie geason[137] wronges bee
reyne[138] ynto theyre pryme; 120
Nowe wylle thie sonnes unto
thie succoure flie.
Alyche a storm egederinge[139]
yn the skie,
Tys fulle ande brasteth[140]
on the chaper[141] grounde;
Sycke shalle mie fhuirye on
the Normans flie,
And alle theyre mittee[142]
menne be sleene[143] arounde. 125
Nowe, nowe, wylle Harolde
or oppressionne falle,
Ne moe the Englyshmenne yn vayne for hele[144]
shal calle.
KYNGE EDWARDE AND HYS QUEENE.
QUEENE.
Botte, loverde[145], whie
so manie Normannes here?
Mee thynckethe wee bee notte
yn Englyshe londe.
These browded[146] straungers
alwaie doe appere, 130
Theie parte yor trone[147],
and sete at your ryghte honde.
KYNGE.
Go to, goe to, you doe ne
understonde:
Theie yeave mee lyffe and
dyd mie bowkie[148] kepe;
Theie dyd mee feeste, and
did embowre[149] me gronde;
To trete hem ylle wulde lette
mie kyndnesse slepe. 135
QUEENE.
Mancas[150] you have yn store,
and to them parte;
Youre leege-folcke[151] make moke[152]
dole[153], you have theyr worthe asterte[154].
KYNGE.
I heste[155] no rede of you.
I ken mie friendes.
Hallie[156] dheie are, fulle
ready mee to hele[157].
Theyre volundes[158] are ystorven[159]
to self endes; 140
No denwere[160] yn mie breste
I of them fele:
I muste to prayers; goe yn,
and you do wele;
I muste ne lose the dutie
of the daie;
Go inne, go ynne, ande viewe
the azure rele[161],
Fulle welle I wote you have
noe mynde toe praie. 145
QUEENE.
I leeve youe to doe hommage
heaven-were[162];
To serve yor leege-folcke
toe is doeynge hommage there.
KYNGE AND SYR HUGHE.
KYNGE.
Mie friende, Syr Hughe, whatte tydynges brynges thee here?
HUGHE.
There is no mancas yn mie
loverdes ente[163];
The hus dyspense[164] unpaied
doe appere; 150
The laste receivure[165] ys
eftesoones[166] dispente[167].
KYNGE.
Thenne guylde the Weste.
HUGHE.
Mie loverde, I dyd speke
Untoe the mitte[168] Erle
Harolde of the thynge;
He raysed hys honde, and smoke
me onne the cheke,
Saieynge, go beare thatte
message to the kynge. 155
KYNGE.
Arace[169] hym of hys powere;
bie Goddis worde,
Ne moe thatte Harolde shall ywield the
erlies swerde.
HUGHE.
Atte seeson fytte, mie loverde,
lette itt bee;
Botte nowe the folcke doe
soe enalse[170] hys name,
Inne strevvynge to slea hymme,
ourselves wee slea; 160
Syke ys the doughtyness[171]
of hys grete fame.
KYNGE.
Hughe, I beethyncke, thie
rede[172] ys notte to blame.
Botte thou maiest fynde fulle
store of marckes yn Kente.
HUGHE.
Mie noble loverde, Godwynn
ys the same
He sweeres he wylle notte
swelle the Normans ent. 165
KYNGE.
Ah traytoure! botte mie rage
I wylle commaunde.
Thou arte a Normanne, Hughe, a straunger
to the launde.
Thou kenneste howe these Englysche
erle doe bere
Such stedness[173] in the
yll and evylle thynge,
Botte atte the goode theie
hover yn denwere[174], 170
Onknowlachynge[175] gif thereunto
to clynge.
HUGHE.
Onwordie syke a marvelle[176]
of a kynge!
O Edwarde, thou deservest
purer leege[177];
To thee heie[178] shulden
al theire mancas brynge;
Thie nodde should save menne,
and thie glomb[179] forslege[180]. 175
I amme no curriedowe[181],
I lacke no wite [182],
I speke whatte bee the trouthe, and whatte
all see is ryghte.
KYNGE.
Thou arte a hallie[183] manne,
I doe thee pryze.
Comme, comme, and here and
hele[184] mee ynn mie praires.
Fulle twentie mancas I wylle
thee alise [185], 180
And twayne of hamlettes[186]
to thee and thie heyres.
So shalle all Normannes from
mie londe be fed,
Theie alleyn[187] have syke love as to
acquyre yer bredde.
CHORUS.
Whan Freedom, dreste yn blodde-steyned
veste,
To everie knyghte her warre-songe
sunge, 185
Uponne her hedde wylde wedes were spredde;
A gorie anlace bye her honge.
She daunced onne
the heathe;
She hearde the
voice of deathe;
Pale-eyned affryghte, hys harte of sylver
hue, 190
In vayne assayled[188] her bosomme to
acale[189];
She hearde onflemed[190] the shriekynge
voice of woe,
And sadnesse ynne the owlette shake the
dale.
She shooke the
burled[191] speere,
On hie she jeste[192]
her sheelde, 195
Her foemen[193]
* * * * *
[Footnote 1: Of old, formerly.]
[Footnote 2: writers, historians.]
[Footnote 3: much.]
[Footnote 4: inglorious.]
[Footnote 5: bereaving.]
[Footnote 6: faith.]
[Footnote 7: unforgiving.]
[Footnote 8: divines, clergymen, monks.]
[Footnote 9: holy.]
[Footnote 10: work.]
[Footnote 11: not.]
[Footnote 12: author.]
[Footnote 13: though, notwithstanding.]
[Footnote 14: clerk, or clergyman.]
[Footnote 15: entyn, even.]
[Footnote 16: might.]
[Footnote 17: challenge.]
[Footnote 18: Lord.]
[Footnote 19: foes, enemies.]
[Footnote 20: devour, destroy.]
[Footnote 21: fatten.]
[Footnote 22: Grievance; a sense of it.]
[Footnote 23: cease, be still.]
[Footnote 24: idly.]
[Footnote 25: deceived, imposed on.]
[Footnote 26: so.]
[Footnote 27: fury, anger, rage.]
[Footnote 28: paint, display.]
[Footnote 29: soul.]
[Footnote 30: strong.]
[Footnote 31: terrible.]
[Footnote 32: horrid, grim.]
[Footnote 33: smoking, bleeding.]
[Footnote 34: oft.]
[Footnote 35: heat, rashness.]
[Footnote 36: counsel, wisdom.]
[Footnote 37: strength, also strong.]
[Footnote 38: taudry, glimmering.]
[Footnote 39: People.]
[Footnote 40: fate, destiny.]
[Footnote 41: nobly.]
[Footnote 42: Cast.]
[Footnote 43: cross, from crouche, a cross.]
[Footnote 44: attempt, or endeavour.]
[Footnote 45: unarmed.]
[Footnote 46: unactive.]
[Footnote 47: unspirited.]
[Footnote 48: such.]
[Footnote 49: fastened, annexed.]
[Footnote 50: might, power.]
[Footnote 51: mantle, or robe.]
[Footnote 52: white, alluding to the arms of Kent, a horse saliant, argent.]
[Footnote 53: distracting.]
[Footnote 54: despair.]
[Footnote 55: bleed.]
[Footnote 56: allow.]
[Footnote 57: ease.]
[Footnote 58: throne.]
[Footnote 59: pluck.]
[Footnote 60: Becomes.]
[Footnote 61: subjects.]
[Footnote 62: contentions, complaints.]
[Footnote 63: choke.]
[Footnote 64: dark, cloudy.]
[Footnote 65: astonish.]
[Footnote 66: cut off, destroyed.]
[Footnote 67: slaves.]
[Footnote 68: loud roaring.]
[Footnote 69: flame of fire.]
[Footnote 70: burn, consume.]
[Footnote 71: them.]
[Footnote 72: slay.]
[Footnote 73: decay.]
[Footnote 74: make ready.]
[Footnote 75: enterprize.]
[Footnote 76: Notwithstanding.]
[Footnote 77: foes.]
[Footnote 78: mangle, destroy.]
[Footnote 79: beauty, countenance.]
[Footnote 80: an ancient sword.]
[Footnote 81: fury.]
[Footnote 82: cease.]
[Footnote 83: deadly.]
[Footnote 84: lake.]
[Footnote 85: swollen.]
[Footnote 86: hidden.]
[Footnote 87: unknown.]
[Footnote 88: command.]
[Footnote 89: still.]
[Footnote 90: Red-stained.]
[Footnotes 91, 92: parts of armour.]
[Footnote 93: broad.]
[Footnote 94: cause.]
[Footnote 95: rights, liberties.]
[Footnote 96: cutting, mangling.]
[Footnote 97: forbidding.]
[Footnote 98: grow.]
[Footnote 99: furious.]
[Footnote 100: slay.]
[Footnote 101: strength.]
[Footnote 102: declare.]
[Footnote 103: sword.]
[Footnote 104: Monastery.]
[Footnote 105: more worthy.]
[Footnote 106: pulled, plucked.]
[Footnote 107: displayed.]
[Footnote 108: over-righteous.]
[Footnote 109: counselled, more wise.]
[Footnote 110: uncareful, neglected.]
[Footnote 111: Bid, command.]
[Footnote 112: slay.]
[Footnote 113: presently.]
[Footnote 114: explain.]
[Footnote 115: grievances.]
[Footnote 116: branch.]
[Footnote 117: wet, moist.]
[Footnote 118: fen, moor.]
[Footnote 119: drained.]
[Footnote 120: swelling.]
[Footnote 121: waves.]
[Footnote 122: grievance.]
[Footnote 123: assemble.]
[Footnote 124: broad.]
[Footnote 125: Horned.]
[Footnote 126: white.]
[Footnote 127: decks.]
[Footnote 128: mightiest, most valiant.]
[Footnote 129: slain.]
[Footnote 130: oversets.]
[Footnote 131: a castle.]
[Footnote 132: revenge.]
[Footnote 133: cause.]
[Footnote 134: at once.]
[Footnote 135: One who takes up the cross in order to fight against the Saracens.]
[Footnote 136: holy.]
[Footnote 137: rare, extraordinary, strange.]
[Footnote 138: run, shot up.]
[Footnote 139: assembling, gathering.]
[Footnote 140: bursteth.]
[Footnote 141: dry, barren.]
[Footnote 142: Mighty.]
[Footnote 143: slain.]
[Footnote 144: help.]
[Footnote 145: Lord.]
[Footnote 146: embroidered; ’tis conjectured, embroidery was not used in England till Hen. II.]
[Footnote 147: throne.]
[Footnote 148: person, body.]
[Footnote 149: lodge.]
[Footnote 150: Marks.]
[Footnote 151: subjects.]
[Footnote 152: much.]
[Footnote 153: lamentation.]
[Footnote 154: neglected, or passed by.]
[Footnote 155: require, ask.]
[Footnote 156: holy.]
[Footnote 157: help.]
[Footnote 158: will.]
[Footnote 159: dead.]
[Footnote 160: doubt.]
[Footnote 161: waves.]
[Footnote 162: heaven-ward, or God-ward.]
[Footnote 163: Purse, used here probably as a treasury.]
[Footnote 164: expence.]
[Footnote 165: receipt.]
[Footnote 166: soon.]
[Footnote 167: expended.]
[Footnote 168: a contradiction of mighty.]
[Footnote 169: Divest.]
[Footnote 170: embrace.]
[Footnote 171: mightiness.]
[Footnote 172: counsel.]
[Footnote 173: Firmness, stedfastness.]
[Footnote 174: doubt, suspense.]
[Footnote 175: not knowing.]
[Footnote 176: wonder.]
[Footnote 177: homage, obeysance.]
[Footnote 178: they.]
[Footnote 179: frown.]
[Footnote 180: kill.]
[Footnote 181: curriedowe, flatterer.]
[Footnote 182: reward.]
[Footnote 183: holy.]
[Footnote 184: help.]
[Footnote 185: allow.]
[Footnote 186: manors.]
[Footnote 187: alone.]
[Footnote 188: Endeavoured.]
[Footnote 189: freeze.]
[Footnote 190: undismayed.]
[Footnote 191: armed, pointed.]
[Footnote 192: hoisted on high, raised.]
[Footnote 193: foes, enemies.]
[Footnote 194: fly.]
[Footnote 195: head.]
[Footnote 196: stretched.]
[Footnote 197: Like.]
[Footnote 198: two.]
[Footnote 199: flaming.]
[Footnote 200: meteors.]
[Footnote 201: beats, stamps.]
[Footnote 202: closely.]
[Footnote 203: mantled, covered.]
[Footnote 204: guides.]
[Footnote 205: armed.]
[Footnote 206: arose.]
[Footnote 207: helmet.]
Bie T. ROWLEIE.
BOOKE 1st[1].
Whanne Scythyannes, salvage
as the wolves theie chacde,
Peyncted in horrowe[2] formes
bie nature dyghte,
Heckled[3] yn beastskyns,
slepte uponne the waste,
And wyth the morneynge rouzed
the wolfe to fyghte,
Swefte as descendeynge lemes[4]
of roddie lyghte 5
Plonged to the hulstred[5]
bedde of laveynge seas,
Gerd[6] the blacke mountayn
okes yn drybblets[7] twighte[8],
And ranne yn thoughte alonge
the azure mees,
Whose eyne dyd feerie sheene,
like blue-hayred defs[9],
That dreerie hange upon Dover’s
emblaunched[10] clefs. 10
Soft boundeynge over swelleynge
azure reles[11]
The salvage natyves sawe a
shyppe appere;
An uncouthe[12] denwere[13]
to theire bosomme steles;
Theyre myghte ys knopped[14]
ynne the froste of fere.
The headed javlyn lisseth[15]
here and there; 15
Theie stonde, theie ronne,
theie loke wyth eger eyne;
The shyppes sayle, boleynge[16]
wythe the kyndelie ayre,
Ronneth to harbour from the
beateynge bryne;
Theie dryve awaie aghaste,
whanne to the stronde
A burled[17] Trojan lepes, wythe Morglaien
sweerde yn honde. 20
Hymme followede eftsoones
hys compheeres[18], whose swerdes
Glestred lyke gledeynge[19]
starres ynne frostie nete,
Hayleynge theyre capytayne
in chirckynge[20] wordes
Kynge of the lande, whereon
theie set theyre fete.
The greete kynge Brutus thanne
theie dyd hym greete, 25
Prepared for battle, mareschalled
the syghte;
Theie urg’d the warre,
the natyves fledde, as flete
As fleaynge cloudes that swymme
before the syghte;
Tyll tyred with battles, for
to ceese the fraie,
Theie uncted[21] Brutus kynge, and gave
the Trojanns swaie. 30
Twayne of twelve years han
lemed[22] up the myndes,
Leggende[23] the salvage unthewes[24]
of theire breste,
Improved in mysterk[25] warre,
and lymmed[26] theyre kyndes,
Whenne Brute from Brutons
sonke to aeterne reste.
Eftsoons the gentle Locryne
was possest 35
Of swaie, and vested yn the
paramente[27];
Halceld[28] the bykrous[29]
Huns, who dyd infeste
Hys wakeynge kyngdom wyth
a foule intente;
As hys broade swerde oer Homberres
heade was honge,
He tourned toe ryver wyde, and roarynge
rolled alonge. 40
He wedded Gendolyne of roieal
sede,
Upon whose countenance rodde
healthe was spreade;
Bloushing, alyche[30] the
scarlette of herr wede,
She sonke to pleasaunce on
the marryage bedde.
Eftsoons her peaceful joie
of mynde was fledde; 45
Elstrid ametten with the kynge
Locryne;
Unnombered beauties were upon
her shedde,
Moche fyne, moche fayrer thanne
was Gendolyne;
The mornynge tynge, the rose,
the lillie floure,
In ever ronneynge race on her dyd peyncte
theyre powere. 50
The gentle suyte of Locryne
gayned her love;
Theie lyved soft momentes
to a swotie[31] age;
Eft[32] wandringe yn the coppyce,
delle, and grove,
Where ne one eyne mote theyre
disporte engage;
There dydde theie tell the
merrie lovynge sage[33], 55
Croppe the prymrosen floure
to decke theyre headde;
The feerie Gendolyne yn woman
rage
Gemoted[34] warriours to bewrecke[35]
her bedde;
Theie rose; ynne battle was
greete Locryne sleene;
The faire Elstrida fledde from the enchased[36]
queene. 60
A tye of love, a dawter fayre
she hanne,
Whose boddeynge morneyng shewed
a fayre daie,
Her fadre Locrynne, once an
hailie manne.
Wyth the fayre dawterre dydde
she haste awaie,
To where the Western mittee[37]
pyles of claie 65
Arise ynto the cloudes, and
doe them beere;
There dyd Elstrida and Sabryna
staie;
The fyrste tryckde out a whyle
yn warryours gratch[38] and gear;
Vyncente was she ycleped,
butte fulle soone fate
Sente deathe, to telle the dame, she was
notte yn regrate[39]. 70
The queene Gendolyne sente
a gyaunte knyghte,
Whose doughtie heade swepte
the emmertleynge[40] skies,
To slea her wheresoever she
shulde be pyghte[41],
Eke everychone who shulde
her ele[42] emprize[43].
Swefte as the roareynge wyndes
the gyaunte flies, 75
Stayde the loude wyndes, and
shaded reaulmes yn nyghte,
Stepte over cytties, on meint[44]
acres lies,
Meeteynge the herehaughtes
of morneynge lighte;
Tyll mooveynge to the Weste,
myschaunce hys gye[45],
He thorowe warriours gratch fayre Elstrid
did espie. 80
He tore a ragged mountayne
from the grounde,
Harried[46] uppe noddynge
forrests to the skie,
Thanne wythe a fuirie, mote
the erthe astounde[47],
To meddle ayre he lette the
mountayne flie.
The flying wolfynnes sente
a yelleynge crie; 85
Onne Vyncente and Sabryna
felle the mount;
To lyve aeternalle dyd theie
eftsoones die;
Thorowe the sandie grave boiled
up the pourple founte,
On a broade grassie playne
was layde the hylle,
Staieynge the rounynge course of meint
a limmed[48] rylle. 90
The goddes, who kenned the
actyons of the wyghte,
To leggen[49] the sadde happe
of twayne so fayre,
Houton[50] dyd make the mountaine
bie theire mighte.
Forth from Sabryna ran a ryverre
cleere,
Roarynge and rolleynge on
yn course bysmare[51]; 95
From female Vyncente shotte
a ridge of stones,
Eche syde the ryver rysynge
heavenwere;
Sabrynas floode was helde
ynne Elstryds bones.
So are theie cleped; gentle
and the hynde
Can telle, that Severnes streeme bie Vyncentes
rocke’s ywrynde[52]. 100
The bawsyn[53] gyaunt, hee
who dyd them slee,
To telle Gendolyne quycklie
was ysped[54];
Whanne, as he strod alonge
the shakeynge lee,
The roddie levynne[55] glesterrd
on hys headde:
Into hys hearte the azure
vapoures spreade; 105
He wrythde arounde yn drearie
dernie[56] payne;
Whanne from his lyfe-bloode
the rodde lemes[57] were fed,
He felle an hepe of ashes
on the playne:
Stylle does hys ashes shoote
ynto the lyghte,
A wondrous mountayne hie, and Snowdon
ys ytte hyghte. 110
FINIS.
[Footnote 1: I will endeavour to get the remainder of these poems.]
[Footnote 2: unseemly, disagreeable.]
[Footnote 3: wrapped.]
[Footnote 4: rays.]
[Footnote 5: hidden, secret.]
[Footnote 6: broke, rent.]
[Footnote 7: small pieces.]
[Footnote 8: pulled, rent.]
[Footnote 9: vapours, meteors.]
[Footnote 10: emblaunched.]
[Editor’s note: Title: See Introduction p. xli]
[Footnote 11: Ridges, rising waves.]
[Footnotes 12, 13: unknown tremour.]
[Footnote 14: fastened, chained, congealed.]
[Footnote 15: boundeth.]
[Footnote 16: swelling.]
[Footnote 17: armed.]
[Footnote 18: companions.]
[Footnote 19: livid.]
[Footnote 20: a confused noise.]
[Footnote 21: Anointed.]
[Footnote 22: enlightened.]
[Footnote 23: alloyed.]
[Footnote 24: savage barbarity.]
[Footnote 25: mystic.]
[Footnote 26: polished.]
[Footnote 27: a princely robe.]
[Footnote 28: defeated.]
[Footnote 29: warring.]
[Footnote 30: Like.]
[Footnote 31: sweet.]
[Footnote 32: oft.]
[Footnote 33: a tale.]
[Footnote 34: assembled.]
[Footnote 35: revenge.]
[Footnote 36: heated, enraged.]
[Footnote 37: Mighty.]
[Footnote 38: apparel.]
[Footnote 39: esteem, favour.]
[Footnote 40: glittering.]
[Footnote 41: settled.]
[Footnote 42: help.]
[Footnote 43: adventure.]
[Footnote 44: Many.]
[Footnote 45: guide.]
[Footnote 46: tost.]
[Footnote 47: astonish.]
[Footnote 48: glassy, reflecting.]
[Footnote 49: lessen, alloy.]
[Footnote 50: hollow.]
[Footnote 51: Bewildered, curious.]
[Footnote 52: hid, covered.]
[Footnote 53: huge, bulky.]
[Footnote 54: dispatched.]
[Footnote 55: red lightning.]
[Footnote 56: cruel.]
[Footnote 57: flames, rays.]
OF CHARITIE:
As wroten bie the gode Prieste THOMAS ROWLEY[1],
1464.
In Virgyne the sweltrie sun
gan sheene,
And hotte upon the mees[2]
did caste his raie;
The apple rodded[3] from its
palie greene,
And the mole[4] peare did
bende the leafy spraie;
The peede chelandri[5] sunge
the livelong daie; 5
’Twas nowe the pride,
the manhode of the yeare,
And eke the grounde was dighte[6] in its
mose defte[7] aumere[8].
The sun was glemeing in the
midde of daie,
Deadde still the aire, and
eke the welken[9] blue,
When from the sea arist[10]
in drear arraie 10
A hepe of cloudes of sable
sullen hue,
The which full fast unto the
woodlande drewe,
Hiltring[11] attenes[12] the
sunnis fetive[13] face,
And the blacke tempeste swolne and gatherd
up apace.
Beneathe an holme, faste by
a pathwaie side, 15
Which dide unto Seyncte Godwine’s
covent[14] lede,
A hapless pilgrim moneynge
did abide,
Pore in his viewe, ungentle[15]
in his weede,
Longe bretful[16] of the miseries
of neede,
Where from the hail-stone
coulde the almer[17] flie? 20
He had no housen theere, ne anie covent
nie.
Look in his glommed[18] face,
his sprighte there scanne;
Howe woe-be-gone, how withered,
forwynd[19], deade!
Haste to thie church-glebe-house[20],
asshrewed[21] manne!
Haste to thie kiste[22], thie
onlie dortoure[23] bedde. 25
Cale, as the claie whiche
will gre on thie hedde,
Is Charitie and Love aminge
highe elves;
Knightis and Barons live for pleasure
and themselves.
The gatherd storme is rype;
the bigge drops falle;
The forswat[24] meadowes smethe[25],
and drenche[26] the raine; 30
The comyng ghastness do the
cattle pall[27],
And the full flockes are drivynge
ore the plaine;
Dashde from the cloudes the
waters flott[28] againe;
The welkin opes; the yellow
levynne[29] flies;
And the hot fierie smothe[30] in the wide
lowings[31] dies. 35
Liste! now the thunder’s
rattling clymmynge[32] sound
Cheves[33] slowlie on, and
then embollen[34] clangs,
Shakes the hie spyre, and
losst, dispended, drown’d,
Still on the gallard[35] eare
of terroure hanges;
The windes are up; the lofty
elmen swanges; 40
Again the levynne and the
thunder poures,
And the full cloudes are braste[36] attenes
in stonen showers.
Spurreynge his palfrie oere
the watrie plaine.
The Abbote of Seyncte Godwynes
convente came;
His chapournette[37] was drented
with the reine, 45
And his pencte[38] gyrdle
met with mickle shame;
He aynewarde tolde his bederoll[39]
at the same;
The storme encreasen, and
he drew aside,
With the mist[40] almes craver neere to
the holme to bide.
His cope[41] was all of Lyncolne
clothe so fyne, 50
With a gold button fasten’d
neere his chynne;
His autremete[42] was edged
with golden twynne,
And his shoone pyke a loverds[43]
mighte have binne;
Full well it shewn he thoughten
coste no sinne;
The trammels of the palfrye
pleasde his sighte; 55
For the horse-millanare[44] his head with
roses dighte.
An almes, sir prieste! the
droppynge pilgrim saide,
O! let me waite within your
covente dore,
Till the sunne sheneth hie
above our heade,
And the loude tempeste of
the aire is oer; 60
Helpless and ould am I alas!
and poor;
No house, ne friend, ne moneie
in my pouche;
All yatte I call my owne is this my silver
crouche
Varlet, replyd the Abbatte,
cease your dinne;
This is no season almes and
prayers to give; 65
Mie porter never lets a faitour[45]
in;
None touch mie rynge who not
in honour live.
And now the sonne with the
blacke cloudes did stryve,
And shettynge on the grounde
his glairie raie,
The Abbatte spurrde his steede, and eftsoones
roadde awaie. 70
Once moe the skie was blacke,
the thounder rolde;
Faste reyneynge oer the plaine
a prieste was seen;
Ne dighte full proude, ne
buttoned up in golde;
His cope and jape[46] were
graie, and eke were clene;
A Limitoure he was of order
seene; 75
And from the pathwaie side
then turned hee,
Where the pore almer laie binethe the
holmen tree.
An almes, sir priest! the
droppynge pilgrim sayde,
For sweete Seyncte Marie and
your order sake.
The Limitoure then loosen’d
his pouche threade, 80
And did thereoute a groate
of silver take;
The mister pilgrim dyd for
halline[47] shake.
Here take this silver, it
maie eathe[48] thie care;
We are Goddes stewards all, nete[49] of
oure owne we bare.
But ah! unhailie[50] pilgrim,
lerne of me, 85
Scathe anie give a rentrolle
to their Lorde.
Here take my semecope[51],
thou arte bare I see;
Tis thyne; the Seynctes will
give me mie rewarde.
He left the pilgrim, and his
waie aborde.
Virgynne and hallie Seyncte,
who sitte yn gloure[52], 90
Or give the mittee[53] will, or give the
gode man power.
[Footnote 1: Thomas Rowley, the author, was born at Norton Mal-reward in Somersetshire, educated at the Convent of St. Kenna at Keynesham, and died at Westbury in Gloucestershire.]
[Footnote 2: meads.]
[Footnote 3: reddened, ripened.]
[Footnote 4: soft.]
[Footnote 5: pied goldfinch.]
[Footnote 6: drest, arrayed.]
[Footnote 7: neat, ornamental.]
[Footnote 8: a loose robe or mantle.]
[Footnote 9: the sky, the atmosphere.]
[Footnote 10: Arose.]
[Footnote 11: hiding, shrouding.]
[Footnote 12: at once.]
[Footnote 13: beauteous.]
[Footnote 14: It would have been charitable, if the author had not pointed at personal characters in this Ballad of Charity. The Abbot of St. Godwin’s at the time of the writing of this was Ralph de Bellomont, a great stickler for the Lancastrian family. Rowley was a Yorkist.]
[Footnote 15: beggarly.]
[Footnote 16: filled with.]
[Footnote 17: beggar.]
[Footnote 18: clouded, dejected. A person of some note in the literary world is of opinion, that glum and glom are modern cant words; and from this circumstance doubts the authenticity of Rowley’s Manuscripts. Glum-mong in the Saxon signifies twilight, a dark or dubious light; and the modern word gloomy is derived from the Saxon glum.]
[Footnote 19: dry, sapless.]
[Footnote 20: The grave.]
[Footnote 21: accursed, unfortunate.]
[Footnote 22: coffin.]
[Footnote 23: a sleeping room.]
[Footnote 24: sun-burnt.]
[Footnote 25: smoke.]
[Footnote 26: drink.]
[Footnote 27: pall, a contraction from appall, to fright.]
[Footnote 28: fly.]
[Footnote 29: lightning.]
[Footnote 30: steam, or vapours.]
[Footnote 31: flames.]
[Footnote 32: noisy.]
[Footnote 33: moves.]
[Footnote 34: swelled, strengthened.]
[Footnote 35: Frighted.]
[Footnote 36: burst.]
[Footnote 37: a small round hat, not unlike the shapournette in heraldry, formerly worn by Ecclesiastics and Lawyers.]
[Footnote 38: painted.]
[Footnote 39: He told his beads backwards; a figurative expression to signify cursing.]
[Footnote 40: poor, needy.]
[Footnote 41: a cloke.]
[Footnote 42: a loose white robe, worn by Priests.]
[Footnote 43: A lord.]
[Footnote 44: I believe this trade is still in being, though but seldom employed.]
[Footnote 45: a beggar, or vagabond.]
[Footnote 46: A short surplice, worn by Friars of an inferior class, and secular priests.]
[Footnote 47: joy.]
[Footnote 48: ease.]
[Footnote 49: nought.]
[Footnote 50: unhappy.]
[Footnote 51: a short under-cloke.]
[Footnote 52: Glory.]
[Footnote 53: mighty, rich.]
[No 1.]
O Chryste, it is a grief for me to telle,
How manie a nobil erle and valrous knyghte
In fyghtynge for Kynge Harrold noblie
fell,
Al sleyne in Hastyngs feeld in bloudie
fyghte.
O sea-oerteeming Dovor! han thy floude,
5
Han anie fructuous entendement,
Thou wouldst have rose and sank wyth tydes
of bloude.
Before Duke Wyllyam’s knyghts han
hither went;
Whose cowart arrows manie
erles sleyne,
And brued the feeld wyth bloude
as season rayne. 10
And of his knyghtes did eke full manie
die,
All passyng hie, of mickle myghte echone,
Whose poygnant arrowes, typp’d with
destynie,
Caus’d manie wydowes to make myckle
mone.
Lordynges, avaunt, that chycken-harted
are, 15
From out of hearynge quicklie now departe;
Full well I wote, to synge of bloudie
warre
Will greeve your tenderlie and mayden
harte.
Go, do the weaklie womman
inn mann’s geare,
And scond your mansion if
grymm war come there. 20
Soone as the erlie maten belle was tolde,
And sonne was come to byd us all good
daie,
Bothe armies on the feeld, both brave
and bolde,
Prepar’d for fyghte in champyon
arraie.
As when two bulles, destynde for Hocktide
fyghte, 25
Are yoked bie the necke within a sparre,
Theie rend the erthe, and travellyrs affryghte,
Lackynge to gage the sportive bloudie
warre;
Soe lacked Harroldes menne
to come to blowes,
The Normans lacked for to
wielde their bowes. 30
Kynge Harrolde turnynge to hys leegemen
spake;
My merrie men, be not caste downe in mynde;
Your onlie lode for aye to mar or make,
Before yon sunne has donde his welke,
you’ll fynde.
Your lovyng wife, who erst dyd rid the
londe 35
Of Lurdanes, and the treasure that you
han,
Wyll falle into the Normanne robber’s
honde,
Unlesse with honde and harte you plaie
the manne.
Cheer up youre hartes, chase
sorrowe farre awaie,
Godde and Seyncte Cuthbert
be the worde to daie. 40
And thenne Duke Wyllyam to his knyghtes
did saie;
My merrie menne, be bravelie everiche;
Gif I do gayn the honore of the daie,
Ech one of you I will make myckle riche.
Beer you in mynde, we for a kyngdomm fyghte;
45
Lordshippes and honores echone shall possesse;
Be this the worde to daie, God and my
Ryghte;
Ne doubte but God will oure true cause
blesse.
The clarions then sounded
sharpe and shrille;
Deathdoeynge blades were out
intent to kille. 50
And brave Kyng Harrolde had nowe donde
hys saie;
He threwe wythe myghte amayne hys shorte
horse-spear.
The noise it made the duke to turn awaie,
And hytt his knyghte, de Beque, upon the
ear.
His cristede beaver dyd him smalle abounde;
55
The cruel spear went thorough all his
hede;
The purpel bloude came goushynge to the
grounde,
And at Duke Wyllyam’s feet he tumbled
deade:
So fell the myghtie tower
of Standrip, whenne
It felte the furie of the
Danish menne. 60
O Afflem, son of Cuthbert, holie Sayncte,
Come ayde thy freend, and shewe Duke Wyllyams
payne;
Take up thy pencyl, all hys features paincte;
Thy coloryng excells a synger strayne.
Duke Wyllyam sawe hys freende sleyne piteouslie,
65
Hys lovynge freende whome he muche honored,
For he han lovd hym from puerilitie,
And theie together bothe han bin ybred:
O! in Duke Wyllyam’s
harte it raysde a flame,
To whiche the rage of emptie
wolves is tame. 70
He tooke a brasen crosse-bowe in his honde,
And drewe it harde with all hys myghte
amein,
Ne doubtyng but the bravest in the londe
Han by his soundynge arrowe-lede bene
sleyne.
Alured’s stede, the fynest stede
alive, 75
Bye comelie forme knowlached from the
rest;
But nowe his destind howre did aryve,
The arrowe hyt upon his milkwhite breste:
So have I seen a ladie-smock
soe white,
Blown in the mornynge, and
mowd downe at night. 80
With thilk a force it dyd his bodie gore,
That in his tender guttes it entered,
In veritee a fulle clothe yarde or more,
And downe with flaiten noyse he sunken
dede.
Brave Alured, benethe his faithfull horse,
85
Was smeerd all over withe the gorie duste,
And on hym laie the recer’s lukewarme
corse,
That Alured coulde not hymself aluste.
The standyng Normans drew
theyr bowe echone,
And broght full manie Englysh
champyons downe. 90
The Normans kept aloofe, at distaunce
stylle,
The Englysh nete but short horse-spears
could welde;
The Englysh manie dethe-sure dartes did
kille,
And manie arrowes twang’d upon the
sheelde.
Kynge Haroldes knyghts desir’de
for hendie stroke, 95
And marched furious o’er the bloudie
pleyne,
In bodie close, and made the pleyne to
smoke;
Theire sheelds rebounded arrowes back
agayne.
The Normans stode aloofe,
nor hede the same,
Their arrowes woulde do dethe,
tho’ from far of they came. 100
Duke Wyllyam drewe agen hys arrowe strynge,
An arrowe withe a sylver-hede drewe he;
The arrowe dauncynge in the ayre dyd synge,
And hytt the horse of Tosselyn on the
knee.
At this brave Tosslyn threwe his short
horse-speare; 105
Duke Wyllyam stooped to avoyde the blowe;
The yrone weapon hummed in his eare,
And hitte Sir Doullie Naibor on the prowe;
Upon his helme soe furious
was the stroke,
It splete his bever, and the
ryvets broke. 110
Downe fell the beaver by Tosslyn splete
in tweine,
And onn his hede expos’d a punie
wounde,
But on Destoutvilles sholder came ameine,
And fell’d the champyon to the bloudie
grounde.
Then Doullie myghte his bowestrynge drewe,
115
Enthoughte to gyve brave Tosslyn bloudie
wounde,
But Harolde’s asenglave stopp’d
it as it slewe,
And it fell bootless on the bloudie grounde.
Siere Doullie, when he sawe
hys venge thus broke,
Death-doynge blade from out
the scabard toke. 120
And now the battail closde on everych
syde,
And face to face appeard the knyghts full
brave;
They lifted up theire bylles with myckle
pryde,
And manie woundes unto the Normans gave.
So have I sene two weirs at once give
grounde, 125
White fomyng hygh to rorynge combat runne;
In roaryng dyn and heaven-breaking sounde,
Burste waves on waves, and spangle in
the sunne;
And when their myghte in burstynge
waves is fled,
Like cowards, stele alonge
their ozy bede. 130
Yonge Egelrede, a knyghte of comelie mien,
Affynd unto the kynge of Dynefarre,
At echone tylte and tourney he was seene,
And lov’d to be amonge the bloudie
warre;
He couch’d hys launce, and ran wyth
mickle myghte 135
Ageinste the brest of Sieur de Bonoboe;
He grond and sunken on the place of fyghte,
O Chryste! to fele his wounde, his harte
was woe.
Ten thousand thoughtes push’d
in upon his mynde,
Not for hymselfe, but those
he left behynde. 140
He dy’d and leffed wyfe and chyldren
tweine,
Whom he wyth cheryshment did dearlie love;
In England’s court, in goode Kynge
Edwarde’s regne,
He wonne the tylte, and ware her crymson
glove;
And thence unto the place where he was
borne, 145
Together with hys welthe & better wyfe,
To Normandie he dyd perdie returne,
In peace and quietnesse to lead his lyfe;
And now with sovrayn Wyllyam
he came,
To die in battel, or get welthe
and fame. 150
Then, swefte as lyghtnynge, Egelredus
set
Agaynst du Barlie of the mounten head;
In his dere hartes bloude his longe launce
was wett,
And from his courser down he tumbled dede.
So have I sene a mountayne oak, that longe
155
Has caste his shadowe to the mountayne
syde,
Brave all the wyndes, tho’ ever
they so stronge,
And view the briers belowe with self-taught
pride;
But, whan throwne downe by
mightie thunder stroke,
He’de rather bee a bryer
than an oke. 160
Then Egelred dyd in a declynie
Hys launce uprere with all hys myghte
ameine,
And strok Fitzport upon the dexter eye,
And at his pole the spear came out agayne.
Butt as he drewe it forthe, an arrowe
fledde 165
Wyth mickle myght sent from de Tracy’s
bowe,
And at hys syde the arrowe entered,
And oute the crymson streme of bloude
gan flowe;
In purple strekes it dyd his
armer staine,
And smok’d in puddles
on the dustie plaine. 170
But Egelred, before he sunken downe,
With all his myghte amein his spear besped,
It hytte Bertrammil Manne upon the crowne,
And bothe together quicklie sunken dede.
So have I seen a rocke o’er others
hange, 175
Who stronglie plac’d laughde at
his slippry state,
But when he falls with heaven-peercynge
bange
That he the sleeve unravels all theire
fate,
And broken onn the beech thys
lesson speak,
The stronge and firme should
not defame the weake. 180
Howel ap Jevah came from Matraval,
Where he by chaunce han slayne a noble’s
son,
And now was come to fyghte at Harold’s
call,
And in the battel he much goode han done;
Unto Kyng Harold he foughte mickle near,
185
For he was yeoman of the bodie guard;
And with a targyt and a fyghtyng spear,
He of his boddie han kepte watch and ward;
True as a shadow to a substant
thynge,
So true he guarded Harold
hys good kynge. 190
But when Egelred tumbled to the grounde,
He from Kynge Harolde quicklie dyd advaunce,
And strooke de Tracie thilk a crewel wounde,
Hys harte and lever came out on the launce.
And then retreted for to guarde his kynge,
195
On dented launce he bore the harte awaie;
An arrowe came from Auffroie Griel’s
strynge,
Into hys heele betwyxt hys yron staie;
The grey-goose pynion, that
thereon was sett,
Eftsoons wyth smokyng crymson
bloud was wett. 200
His bloude at this was waxen flaminge
hotte,
Without adoe he turned once agayne,
And hytt de Griel thilk a blowe, God wote,
Maugre hys helme, he splete his hede in
twayne.
This Auffroie was a manne of mickle pryde,
205
Whose featliest bewty ladden in his face;
His chaunce in warr he ne before han tryde,
But lyv’d in love and Rosaline’s
embrace;
And like a useless weede amonge
the haie
Amonge the sleine warriours
Griel laie. 210
Kynge Harolde then he putt his yeomen
bie,
And ferslie ryd into the bloudie fyghte;
Erle Ethelwolf, and Goodrick, and Alsie,
Cuthbert, and Goddard, mical menne of
myghte,
Ethelwin, Ethelbert, and Edwyn too,
215
Effred the famous, and Erle Ethelwarde,
Kynge Harolde’s leegemenn, erlies
hie and true,
Rode after hym, his bodie for to guarde;
The reste of erlies, fyghtynge
other wheres,
Stained with Norman bloude
theire fyghtynge speres. 220
As when some ryver with the season raynes
White fomynge hie doth breke the bridges
oft,
Oerturns the hamelet and all conteins.
And layeth oer the hylls a muddie soft;
So Harold ranne upon his Normanne foes.
225
And layde the greate and small upon the
grounde,
And delte among them thilke a store of
blowes,
Full manie a Normanne fell by him dede
wounde;
So who he be that ouphant
faieries strike,
Their soules will wander to
Kynge Offa’s dyke. 230
Fitz Salnarville, Duke William’s
favourite knyghte,
To noble Edelwarde his life dyd yielde;
Withe hys tylte launce hee stroke with
thilk a myghte,
The Norman’s bowels steemde upon
the feeld.
Old Salnarville beheld hys son lie ded,
235
Against Erie Edelward his bowe-strynge
drewe;
But Harold at one blowe made tweine his
head;
He dy’d before the poignant arrowe
flew.
So was the hope of all the
issue gone,
And in one battle fell the
sire and son. 240
De Aubignee rod fercely thro’ the
fyghte,
To where the boddie of Salnarville laie;
Quod he; And art thou ded, thou manne
of myghte?
I’ll be revengd, or die for thee
this daie.
Die then thou shalt, Erie Ethelwarde he
said; 245
I am a cunnynge erle, and that can tell;
Then drewe hys swerde, and ghastlie cut
hys hede,
And on his freend eftsoons he lifeless
fell,
Stretch’d on the bloudie
pleyne; great God forefend,
It be the fate of no such
trustie freende! 250
Then Egwin Sieur Pikeny did attaque;
He turned aboute and vilely souten flie;
But Egwyn cutt so deepe into his backe,
He rolled on the grounde and soon dyd
die.
His distant sonne, Sire Romara de Biere,
255
Soughte to revenge his fallen kynsman’s
lote,
But soone Erie Cuthbert’s dented
fyghtyng spear
Stucke in his harte, and stayd his speed,
God wote.
He tumbled downe close by
hys kynsman’s syde,
Myngle their stremes of pourple
bloude, and dy’d. 260
And now an arrowe from a bowe unwote
Into Erle Cuthbert’s harte eftsoons
dyd flee;
Who dying sayd; ah me! how hard my lote!
Now slayne, mayhap, of one of lowe degree.
So have I seen a leafic elm of yore
265
Have been the pride and glorie of the
pleine;
But, when the spendyng landlord is growne
poore.
It falls benethe the axe of some rude
sweine;
And like the oke, the sovran
of the woode,
It’s fallen boddie tells
you how it stoode. 270
When Edelward perceevd Erle Cuthbert die,
On Hubert strongest of the Normanne crewe,
As wolfs when hungred on the cattel flie,
So Edelward amaine upon him flewe.
With thilk a force he hyt hym to the grounde;
275
And was demasing howe to take his life,
When he behynde received a ghastlie wounde
Gyven by de Torcie, with a stabbyng knyfe;
Base trecherous Normannes,
if such actes you doe,
The conquer’d maie clame
victorie of you. 280
The erlie felt de Torcie’s trecherous
knyfe
Han made his crymson bloude and spirits
floe;
And knowlachyng he soon must quyt this
lyfe,
Resolved Hubert should too with hym goe.
He held hys trustie swerd against his
breste, 285
And down he fell, and peerc’d him
to the harte;
And both together then did take their
reste,
Their soules from corpses unaknell’d
depart;
And both together soughte
the unknown shore,
Where we shall goe, where
manie’s gon before. 290
Kynge Harolde Torcie’s trechery
dyd spie,
And hie alofe his temper’d swerde
dyd welde,
Cut offe his arme, and made the bloude
to flie,
His proofe steel armoure did him littel
sheelde;
And not contente, he splete his hede in
twaine, 295
And down he tumbled on the bloudie grounde;
Mean while the other erlies on the playne
Gave and received manie a bloudie wounde,
Such as the arts in warre
han learnt with care,
But manie knyghtes were women
in men’s geer. 300
Herrewald, borne on Sarim’s spreddyng
plaine,
Where Thor’s fam’d temple
manie ages stoode;
Where Druids, auncient preests, did ryghtes
ordaine,
And in the middle shed the victyms bloude;
Where auncient Bardi dyd their verses
synge 305
Of Caesar conquer’d, and his mighty
hoste,
And how old Tynyan, necromancing kynge,
Wreck’d all hys shyppyng on the
Brittish coaste,
And made hym in his tatter’d
barks to flie,
’Till Tynyan’s
dethe and opportunity.
310
To make it more renomed than before,
(I, tho a Saxon, yet the truthe will telle)
The Saxonnes steynd the place wyth Brittish
gore,
Where nete but bloud of sacrifices felle.
Tho’ Chrystians, stylle they thoghte
mouche of the pile, 315
And here theie mett when causes dyd it
neede;
’Twas here the auncient Elders of
the Isle
Dyd by the trecherie of Hengist bleede;
O Hengist! han thy cause bin
good and true,
Thou wouldst such murdrous
acts as these eschew. 320
The erlie was a manne of hie degree,
And han that daie full manie Normannes
sleine;
Three Norman Champyons of hie degree
He lefte to smoke upon the bloudie pleine:
The Sier Fitzbotevilleine did then advaunce,
325
And with his bowe he smote the erlies
hede;
Who eftsoons gored hym with his tylting
launce,
And at his horses feet he tumbled dede:
His partyng spirit hovered
o’er the floude
Of soddayne roushynge mouche
lov’d pourple bloude. 330
De Viponte then, a squier of low degree,
An arrowe drewe with all his myghte ameine;
The arrowe graz’d upon the erlies
knee,
A punie wounde, that causd but littel
peine.
So have I seene a Dolthead place a stone,
335
Enthoghte to staie a driving rivers course;
But better han it bin to lett alone,
It onlie drives it on with mickle force;
The erlie, wounded by so base
a hynde,
Rays’d furyous doyngs
in his noble mynde. 340
The Siere Chatillion, yonger of that name,
Advaunced next before the erlie’s
syghte;
His fader was a manne of mickle fame,
And he renomde and valorous in fyghte.
Chatillion his trustie swerd forth drewe.
345
The erle drawes his, menne both of mickle
myghte;
And at eche other vengouslie they flewe,
As mastie dogs at Hocktide set to fyghte;
Bothe scornd to yeelde, and
bothe abhor’de to flie,
Resolv’d to vanquishe,
or resolv’d to die.
350
Chatillion hyt the erlie on the hede,
Thatt splytte eftsoons his cristed helm
in twayne;
Whiche he perforce withe target covered,
And to the battel went with myghte ameine.
The erlie hytte Chatillion thilke a blowe
355
Upon his breste, his harte was plein to
see;
He tumbled at the horses feet alsoe,
And in dethe panges he seez’d the
recer’s knee:
Faste as the ivy rounde the
oke doth clymbe,
So faste he dying gryp’d
the recer’s lymbe.
360
The recer then beganne to flynge and kicke,
And toste the erlie farr off to the grounde;
The erlie’s squier then a swerde
did sticke
Into his harte, a dedlie ghastlie wounde;
And downe he felle upon the crymson pleine,
365
Upon Chatillion’s soulless corse
of claie;
A puddlie streme of bloude flow’d
oute ameine;
Stretch’d out at length besmer’d
with gore he laie;
As some tall oke fell’d
from the greenie plaine,
To live a second time upon
the main. 370
The erlie nowe an horse and beaver han,
And nowe agayne appered on the feeld;
And manie a mickle knyghte and mightie
manne
To his dethe-doyng swerd his life did
yeeld;
When Siere de Broque an arrowe longe lett
flie, 375
Intending Herewaldus to have sleyne;
It miss’d; butt hytte Edardus on
the eye,
And at his pole came out with horrid payne.
Edardus felle upon the bloudie
grounde,
His noble soule came roushyng
from the wounde. 380
Thys Herewald perceevd, and full of ire
He on the Siere de Broque with furie came;
Quod he; thou’st slaughtred my beloved
squier,
But I will be revenged for the same.
Into his bowels then his launce he thruste,
385
And drew thereout a steemie drerie lode;
Quod he; these offals are for ever curst,
Shall serve the coughs, and rooks, and
dawes, for foode.
Then on the pleine the steemie
lode hee throwde,
Smokynge wyth lyfe, and dy’d
with crymson bloude. 390
Fitz Broque, who saw his father killen
lie,
Ah me! sayde he; what woeful syghte I
see!
But now I must do somethyng more than
sighe;
And then an arrowe from the bowe drew
he.
Beneth the erlie’s navil came the
darte; 395
Fitz Broque on foote han drawne it from
the bowe;
And upwards went into the erlie’s
harte,
And out the crymson streme of bloude ’gan
flowe.
As fromm a hatch, drawne with
a vehement geir,
White rushe the burstynge
waves, and roar along the weir. 400
The erle with one honde grasp’d
the recer’s mayne,
And with the other he his launce besped;
And then felle bleedyng on the bloudie
plaine.
His launce it hytte Fitz Broque upon the
hede;
Upon his hede it made a wounde full slyghte,
405
But peerc’d his shoulder, ghastlie
wounde inferne,
Before his optics daunced a shade of nyghte,
Whyche soone were closed ynn a sleepe
eterne.
The noble erlie than, withote
a grone,
Took flyghte, to fynde the
regyons unknowne. 410
Brave Alured from binethe his noble horse
Was gotten on his leggs, with bloude all
smore;
And now eletten on another horse,
Eftsoons he withe his launce did manie
gore.
The cowart Norman knyghtes before hym
fledde, 415
And from a distaunce sent their arrowes
keene;
But noe such destinie awaits his hedde,
As to be sleyen by a wighte so meene.
Tho oft the oke falls by the
villen’s shock,
’Tys moe than hyndes
can do, to move the rock. 420
Upon du Chatelet he ferselie sett,
And peerc’d his bodie with a force
full grete;
The asenglave of his tylt-launce was wett,
The rollynge bloude alonge the launce
did fleet.
Advauncynge, as a mastie at a bull,
425
He rann his launce into Fitz Warren’s
harte;
From Partaies bowe, a wight unmercifull,
Within his owne he felt a cruel darte;
Close by the Norman champyons
he han sleine,
He fell; and mixd his bloude
with theirs upon the pleine. 430
Erie Ethelbert then hove, with clinie
just,
A launce, that stroke Partaie upon the
thighe,
And pinn’d him downe unto the gorie
duste;
Cruel, quod he, thou cruellie shalt die.
With that his launce he enterd at his
throte; 435
He scritch’d and screem’d
in melancholie mood;
And at his backe eftsoons came out, God
wote,
And after it a crymson streme of bloude:
In agonie and peine he there
dyd lie,
While life and dethe strove
for the masterrie, 440
He gryped hard the bloudie murdring launce,
And in a grone he left this mortel lyfe.
Behynde the erlie Fiscampe did advaunce,
Bethoghte to kill him with a stabbynge
knife;
But Egward, who perceevd his fowle intent,
445
Eftsoons his trustie swerde he forthwyth
drewe,
And thilke a cruel blowe to Fiscampe sent,
That soule and bodie’s bloude at
one gate flewe.
Thilk deeds do all deserve,
whose deeds so fowle
Will black theire earthlie
name, if not their soule. 450
When lo! an arrowe from Walleris honde,
Winged with fate and dethe daunced alonge;
And slewe the noble flower of Powyslonde,
Howel ap Jevah, who yclepd the stronge.
Whan he the first mischaunce received
han, 455
With horsemans haste he from the armie
rodde;
And did repaire unto the cunnynge manne,
Who sange a charme, that dyd it mickle
goode;
Then praid Seyncte Cuthbert,
and our holie Dame,
To blesse his labour, and
to heal the same. 460
Then drewe the arrowe, and the wounde
did seck,
And putt the teint of holie herbies on;
And putt a rowe of bloude-stones round
his neck;
And then did say; go, champyon, get agone.
And now was comynge Harrolde to defend,
465
And metten with Walleris cruel darte;
His sheelde of wolf-skinn did him not
attend,
The arrow peerced into his noble harte;
As some tall oke, hewn from
the mountayne hed,
Falls to the pleine; so fell
the warriour dede. 470
His countryman, brave Mervyn ap Teudor,
Who love of hym han from his country gone,
When he perceevd his friend lie in his
gore,
As furious as a mountayne wolf he ranne.
As ouphant faieries, whan the moone sheenes
bryghte, 475
In littel circles daunce upon the greene,
All living creatures flie far from their
syghte,
Ne by the race of destinie be seen;
For what he be that ouphant
faieries stryke,
Their soules will wander to
Kyng Offa’s dyke. 480
So from the face of Mervyn Tewdor brave
The Normans eftsoons fled awaie aghaste;
And lefte behynde their bowe and asenglave.
For fear of hym, in thilk a cowart haste.
His garb sufficient were to move affryghte;
485
A wolf skin girded round his myddle was;
A bear skyn, from Norwegians wan in fyghte,
Was tytend round his shoulders by the
claws:
So Hercules, ’tis sunge,
much like to him,
Upon his sholder wore a lyon’s
skin. 490
Upon his thyghes and harte-swefte legges
he wore
A hugie goat skyn, all of one grete peice;
A boar skyn sheelde on his bare armes
he bore;
His gauntletts were the skynn of harte
of greece.
They fledde; he followed close upon their
heels, 495
Vowynge vengeance for his deare countrymanne;
And Siere de Sancelotte his vengeance
feels;
He peerc’d hys backe, and out the
bloude ytt ranne.
His bloude went downe the
swerde unto his arme,
In springing rivulet, alive
and warme. 500
His swerde was shorte, and broade, and
myckle keene,
And no mann’s bone could stonde
to stoppe itts waie;
The Normann’s harte in partes two
cutt cleane,
He clos’d his eyne, and clos’d
hys eyne for aie.
Then with his swerde he sett on Fitz du
Valle, 505
A knyghte mouch famous for to runne at
tylte;
With thilk a furie on hym he dyd falle,
Into his neck he ranne the swerde and
hylte;
As myghtie lyghtenynge often
has been founde,
To drive an oke into unfallow’d
grounde. 510
And with the swerde, that in his neck
yet stoke,
The Norman fell unto the bloudie grounde;
And with the fall ap Tewdore’s swerde
he broke,
And bloude afreshe came trickling from
the wounde.
As whan the hyndes, before a mountayne
wolfe, 515
Flie from his paws, and angrie vysage
grym;
But when he falls into the pittie golphe,
They dare hym to his bearde, and battone
hym;
And cause he fryghted them
so muche before,
Lyke cowart hyndes, they battone
hym the more. 520
So, whan they sawe ap Tewdore was bereft
Of his keen swerde, thatt wroghte thilke
great dismaie,
They turned about, eftsoons upon hym lept,
And full a score engaged in the fraie.
Mervyn ap Tewdore, ragyng as a bear,
525
Seiz’d on the beaver of the Sier
de Laque;
And wring’d his hedde with such
a vehement gier,
His visage was turned round unto his backe.
Backe to his harte retyr’d
the useless gore,
And felle upon the pleine
to rise no more. 530
Then on the mightie Siere Fitz Pierce
he flew,
And broke his helm and seiz’d hym
bie the throte:
Then manie Normann knyghtes their arrowes
drew,
That enter’d into Mervyn’s
harte, God wote.
In dying panges he gryp’d his throte
more stronge, 535
And from their sockets started out his
eyes;
And from his mouthe came out his blameless
tonge;
And bothe in peyne and anguishe eftsoon
dies.
As some rude rocke torne from
his bed of claie,
Stretch’d onn the pleyne
the brave ap Tewdore laie. 540
And now Erle Ethelbert and Egward came
Brave Mervyn from the Normannes to assist;
A myghtie siere, Fitz Chatulet bie name,
An arrowe drew, that dyd them littel list.
Erle Egward points his launce at Chatulet,
545
And Ethelbert at Walleris set his;
And Egwald dyd the siere a hard blowe
hytt,
But Ethelbert by a myschaunce dyd miss:
Fear laide Walleris flat upon
the strande,
He ne deserved a death from
erlies hande. 550
Betwyxt the ribbes of Sire Fitz Chatelet
The poynted launce of Egward did ypass;
The distaunt syde thereof was ruddie wet,
And he fell breathless on the bloudie
grass.
As cowart Walleris laie on the grounde,
555
The dreaded weapon hummed oer his heade.
And hytt the squier thylke a lethal wounde,
Upon his fallen lorde he tumbled dead:
Oh shame to Norman armes!
a lord a slave,
A captyve villeyn than a lorde
more brave! 560
From Chatelet hys launce Erle Egward drew,
And hit Wallerie on the dexter cheek;
Peerc’d to his braine, and cut his
tongue in two:
There, knyght, quod he, let that thy actions
speak—
* * * * *
[No 2.]
Oh Truth! immortal daughter
of the skies,
Too lyttle known to wryters
of these daies,
Teach me, fayre Saincte! thy
passynge worthe to pryze,
To blame a friend and give
a foeman prayse.
The sickle moone, bedeckt
wythe sylver rays, 5
Leadynge a traine of starres
of feeble lyghte,
With look adigne the worlde
belowe surveies,
The world, that wotted not
it coud be nyghte;
Wyth armour dyd, with human
gore ydeyd,
She sees Kynge Harolde stande, fayre Englands
curse and pryde. 10
With ale and vernage drunk
his souldiers lay;
Here was an hynde, anie an
erlie spredde;
Sad keepynge of their leaders
natal daie!
This even in drinke, toomorrow
with the dead!
Thro’ everie troope
disorder reer’d her hedde;
15
Dancynge and heideignes was
the onlie theme;
Sad dome was theires, who
lefte this easie bedde,
And wak’d in torments
from so sweet a dream.
Duke Williams menne, of comeing
dethe afraide,
All nyghte to the great Godde for succour
askd and praied. 20
Thus Harolde to his wites
that stoode arounde;
Goe, Gyrthe and Eilward, take
bills halfe a score,
And search how farre our foeman’s
campe doth bound;
Yourself have rede; I nede
to saie ne more.
My brother best belov’d
of anie ore, 25
My Leoswinus, goe to everich
Slowelie brave Gyrthe and
Eilwarde dyd advaunce,
And markd wyth care the armies
dystant syde.
When the dyre clatterynge
of the shielde and launce
Made them to be by Hugh Fitzhugh
espyd.
He lyfted up his voice, and
lowdlie cryd; 35
Like wolfs in wintere did
the Normanne yell;
Girthe drew hys swerde, and
cutte hys burled hyde;
The proto-slene manne of the
fielde he felle;
Out streemd the bloude, and
ran in smokynge curles,
Reflected bie the moone seemd rubies mixt
wyth pearles. 40
A troope of Normannes from
the mass-songe came,
Rousd from their praiers by
the flotting crie;
Thoughe Girthe and Ailwardus
perceevd the same,
Not once theie stoode abashd,
or thoghte to flie.
He seizd a bill, to conquer
or to die; 45
Fierce as a clevis from a
rocke ytorne,
That makes a vallie wheresoe’re
it lie;
[1]Fierce as a ryver burstynge
from the borne;
So fiercelie Gyrthe hitte
Fitz du Gore a blowe.
And on the verdaunt playne he layde the
champyone lowe. 50
Tancarville thus; alle peace
in Williams name;
Let none edraw his arcublaster
bowe.
Girthe cas’d his weppone
as he hearde the same,
And vengynge Normannes staid
the flyinge floe.
The sire wente onne; ye menne,
what mean ye so 55
Thus unprovokd to courte a
bloudie fyghte?
Quod Gyrthe; oure meanynge
we ne care to showe,
Nor dread thy duke wyth all
his men of myghte;
Here single onlie these to
all thie crewe
Shall shewe what Englysh handes and heartes
can doe. 60
Seek not for bloude, Tancarville
calme replyd,
Nor joie in dethe, lyke madmen
most distraught;
In peace and mercy is a Chrystians
pryde;
He that dothe contestes pryze
is in a faulte.
And now the news was to Duke
William brought, 65
That men of Haroldes armie
taken were;
For theyre good cheere all
caties were enthoughte,
And Gyrthe and Eilwardus enjoi’d
goode cheere.
Quod Willyam; thus shall Willyam
be founde
A friend to everie manne that treades
on English ground. 70
Erie Leofwinus throwghe the
campe ypass’d,
And sawe bothe men and erlies
on the grounde;
They slepte, as thoughe they
woulde have slepte theyr last,
And hadd alreadie felte theyr
fatale wounde.
He started backe, and was
wyth shame astownd; 75
Loked wanne wyth anger, and
As when the shepster in the
shadie bowre
In jintle slumbers chase the
heat of daie,
Hears doublyng echoe wind
the wolfins rore,
That neare hys flocke is watchynge
for a praie,
He tremblynge for his sheep
drives dreeme awaie, 85
Gripes faste hys burled croke,
and sore adradde
Wyth fleeting strides he hastens
to the fraie,
And rage and prowess fyres
the coistrell lad;
With trustie talbots to the
battel flies,
And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear
the skies. 90
Such was the dire confusion
of eche wite,
That rose from sleep and walsome
power of wine;
Theie thoughte the foe by
trechit yn the nyghte
Had broke theyr camp and gotten
paste the line;
Now here now there the burnysht
sheeldes and byll-spear shine; 95
Throwote the campe a wild
confusionne spredde;
Eche bracd hys armlace siker
ne desygne,
The crested helmet nodded
on the hedde;
Some caught a flughorne, and
an onsett wounde;
Kynge Harolde hearde the charge, and wondred
at the sounde. 100
Thus Leofwine; O women cas’d
in stele!
Was itte for thys Norwegia’s
stubborn sede
Throughe the black armoure
dyd the anlace fele,
And rybbes of solid brasse
were made to bleede?
Whylst yet the worlde was
wondrynge at the deede. 105
You souldiers, that shoulde
stand with byll in hand,
Get full of wine, devoid of
any rede.
Oh shame! oh dyre dishonoure
to the lande!
He sayde; and shame on everie
visage spredde,
Ne sawe the erlies face, but addawd hung
their head. 110
Thus he; rowze yee, and forme
the boddie tyghte.
The Kentysh menne in fronte,
for strenght renownd,
Next the Brystowans dare the
bloudie fyghte,
And last the numerous crewe
shall presse the grounde.
I and my king be wyth the
Kenters founde; 115
Bythric and Alfwold hedde
the Brystowe bande;
And Bertrams sonne, the man
of glorious wounde,
Lead in the rear the menged
of the lande;
And let the Londoners and
Suffers plie
Bie Herewardes memuine and the lighte
skyrts anie. 120
He saide; and as a packe of
hounds belent,
When that the trackyng of
the hare is gone,
If one perchaunce shall hit
upon the scent,
With twa redubbled fhuir the
alans run;
So styrrd the valiante Saxons
everych one; 125
Soone linked man to man the
Thus Leofwine; today will
Englandes dome
Be fyxt for aie, for gode
or evill state;
This sunnes aunture be felt
for years to come;
Then bravelie fyghte, and
live till deathe of date.
Thinke of brave AElfridus,
yclept the grete, 135
From porte to porte the red-haird
Dane he chasd,
The Danes, with whomme not
lyoncels coud mate,
Who made of peopled reaulms
a barren waste;
Thinke how at once by you
Norwegia bled
Whilste dethe and victorie for magystrie
bested. 140
Meanwhile did Gyrthe unto
Kynge Harolde ride,
And tolde howe he dyd with
Duke Willyam fare.
Brave Harolde lookd askaunte,
and thus replyd;
And can thie say be bowght
wyth drunken cheer?
Gyrthe waxen hotte; fhuir
in his eyne did glare; 145
And thus he saide; oh brother,
friend, and kynge,
Have I deserved this fremed
speche to heare?
Bie Goddes hie hallidome ne
thoughte the thynge.
When Tostus sent me golde
and sylver store,
I scornd hys present vile, and scorn’d
hys treason more. 150
Forgive me, Gyrthe, the brave
Kynge Harolde cryd;
Who can I trust, if brothers
are not true?
I think of Tostus, once my
joie and pryde.
Girthe saide, with looke adigne;
my lord, I doe.
But what oure foemen are,
quod Girth, I’ll shewe; 155
By Gods hie hallidome they
preestes are.
Do not, quod Harolde, Girthe,
mystell them so,
For theie are everich one
brave men at warre.
Quod Girthe; why will ye then
provoke theyr hate?
Quod Harolde; great the foe, so is the
glorie grete. 160
And nowe Duke Willyam mareschalled
his band,
And stretchd his armie owte
a goodlie rowe.
First did a ranke of arcublastries
stande,
Next those on horsebacke drewe
the ascendyng flo,
Brave champyones, eche well
lerned in the bowe, 165
Theyr asenglave acrosse theyr
horses ty’d,
Or with the loverds squier
behinde dyd goe,
Or waited squier lyke at the
horses syde.
When thus Duke Willyam to
a Monke dyd saie,
Prepare thyselfe wyth spede, to Harolde
haste awaie. 170
Telle hym from me one of these
three to take;
That hee to mee do homage
for thys lande,
Or mee hys heyre, when he
deceasyth, make,
Or to the judgment of Chrysts
vicar stande.
He saide; the Monke departyd
out of hande, 175
And to Kyng Harolde dyd this
A standarde made of sylke
and jewells rare,
Wherein alle coloures wroughte
aboute in bighes,
An armyd knyghte was seen
deth-doynge there,
Under this motte, He conquers
or he dies.
This standard rych, endazzlynge
mortal eyes, 185
Was borne neare Harolde at
the Renters heade,
Who chargd hys broders for
the grete empryze
That straite the hest for
battle should be spredde.
To evry erle and knyghte the
worde is gyven,
And cries a guerre and slughornes
shake the vaulted heaven. 190
As when the erthe, torne by
convulsyons dyre,
In reaulmes of darkness hid
from human syghte,
The warring force of water,
air, and fyre,
Brast from the regions of
eternal nyghte,
Thro the darke caverns seeke
the reaulmes of lyght; 195
Some loftie mountaine, by
its fury torne,
Dreadfully moves, and causes
grete affryght;
Now here, now there, majestic
nods the bourne,
And awfulle shakes, mov’d
by the almighty force,
Whole woods and forests nod, and ryvers
change theyr course. 200
So did the men of war at once
advaunce,
Linkd man to man, enseemed
one boddie light;
Above a wood, yform’d
of bill and launce,
That noddyd in the ayre most
straunge to syght.
Harde as the iron were the
menne of mighte, 205
Ne neede of slughornes to
enrowse theyr minde;
Eche shootynge spere yreaden
for the fyghte,
More feerce than fallynge
rocks, more swefte than wynd;
With solemne step, by ecchoe
made more dyre,
One single boddie all theie marchd, theyr
eyen on fyre. 210
And now the greie-eyd morne
with vi’lets drest,
Shakyng the dewdrops on the
flourie meedes,
Fled with her rosie radiance
to the West:
Forth from the Easterne gatte
the fyerie steedes
Of the bright sunne awaytynge
spirits leedes: 215
The sunne, in fierie pompe
enthrond on hie,
Swyfter than thoughte alonge
hys jernie gledes,
And scatters nyghtes remaynes
from oute the skie:
He sawe the armies make for
bloudie fraie,
And stopt his driving steeds, and hid
his lyghtsome raye. 220
Kynge Harolde hie in ayre
majestic raysd
His mightie arme, deckt with
a manchyn rare;
With even hande a mighty javlyn
paizde,
Then furyouse sent it whystlynge
thro the ayre.
It struck the helmet of the
Sieur de Beer; 225
In vayne did brasse or yron
This Willyam saw, and soundynge
Rowlandes songe
He bent his yron interwoven
bowe,
Makynge bothe endes to meet
with myghte full stronge,
From out of mortals syght
shot up the floe;
Then swyfte as fallynge starres
to earthe belowe 235
It slaunted down on Alfwoldes
payncted sheelde;
Quite thro the silver-bordurd
crosse did goe,
Nor loste its force, but stuck
into the feelde;
The Normannes, like theyr
sovrin, dyd prepare,
And shotte ten thousande floes uprysynge
in the aire. 240
As when a flyghte of cranes,
that takes their waie
In householde armies thro
the flanched skie,
Alike the cause, or companie
or prey,
If that perchaunce some boggie
fenne is nie.
Soon as the muddie natyon
theie espie, 245
Inne one blacke cloude theie
to the erth descende;
Feirce as the fallynge thunderbolte
they flie;
In vayne do reedes the speckled
folk defend:
So prone to heavie blowe the
arrowes felle,
And peered thro brasse, and sente manie
to heaven or helle. 250
AElan Adelfred, of the stowe
of Leigh,
Felte a dire arrowe burnynge
in his breste;
Before he dyd, he sente hys
spear awaie,
Thenne sunke to glorie and
eternal reste.
Nevylle, a Normanne of alle
Normannes beste, 255
Throw the joint cuishe dyd
the javlyn feel,
As hee on horsebacke for the
fyghte addressd,
And sawe hys bloude come smokynge
oer the steele;
He sente the avengynge floe
into the ayre,
And turnd hys horses hedde, and did to
leeche repayre. 260
And now the javelyns, barbd
with deathhis wynges,
Hurld from the Englysh handes
by force aderne,
Whyzz dreare alonge, and songes
of terror synges,
Such songes as alwaies clos’d
in lyfe eterne.
Hurld by such strength along
the ayre theie burne, 265
Not to be quenched butte ynn
Normannes bloude;
Wherere theie came they were
of lyfe forlorn,
And alwaies followed by a
purple floude;
Like cloudes the Normanne
arrowes did descend,
Like cloudes of carnage full in purple
drops dyd end. 270
Nor, Leofwynus, dydst thou
still estande;
Full soon thie pheon glytted
in the aire;
The force of none but thyne
and Harolds hande
Could hurle a javlyn with
such lethal geer;
Itte whyzzd a ghastlie dynne
in Normannes ear, 275
Then thundryng dyd upon hys
greave alyghte,
Peirce to his hearte, and
dyd hys bowels tear,
He closd hys eyne in everlastynge
nyghte;
Ah! what avayld the lyons
on his creste!
His hatchments rare with him upon the
grounde was prest. 280
Willyam agayne ymade his bowe-ends
meet,
And hie in ayre the arrowe
wynged his waie,
Descendyng like a shafte of
thunder sleete,
Lyke thunder rattling at the
noon of daie,
Onne Algars sheelde the arrowe
dyd assaie, 285
There throghe dyd peerse,
and stycke into his groine;
In grypynge torments on the
feelde he laie,
Tille welcome dethe came in
and clos’d his eyne;
Distort with peyne he laie
upon the borne,
Lyke sturdie elms by stormes in uncothe
wrythynges torne. 290
Alrick his brother, when hee
this perceevd,
He drewe his swerde, his lefte
hande helde a speere,
Towards the duke he turnd
his prauncyng steede,
And to the Godde of heaven
he sent a prayre;
Then sent his lethale javlyn
in the ayre, 295
On Hue de Beaumontes backe
the javelyn came,
Thro his redde armour to hys
harte it tare,
He felle and thondred on the
place of fame;
Next with his swerde he ’sayld
the Seiur de Roe,
And braste his sylver helme, so furyous
was the blowe. 300
But Willyam, who had seen
hys prowesse great,
And feered muche how farre
his bronde might goe,
Tooke a strong arblaster,
and bigge with fate
From twangynge iron sente
the fleetynge floe.
As Alric hoistes hys arme
for dedlie blowe, 305
Which, han it came, had been
Du Roees laste,
The swyfte-wyngd messenger
from Willyams bowe
Quite throwe his arme into
his syde ypaste;
His eyne shotte fyre, lyke
blazyng starre at nyghte,
He grypd his swerde, and felle upon the
place of fyghte. 310
O Alfwolde, saie, how shalle
I synge of thee
Or telle how manie dyd benethe
thee falle;
Not Haroldes self more Normanne
knyghtes did slee,
Not Haroldes self did for
more praises call;
How shall a penne like myne
then shew it all? 315
Lyke thee their leader, eche
Bristowyanne foughte;
Lyke thee, their blaze must
be canonical,
Fore theie, like thee, that
daie bewrecke yroughte:
Did thirtie Normannes fall
upon the grounde,
Full half a score from thee and theie
receive their fatale wounde. 320
First Fytz Chivelloys felt
thie direful force;
Nete did hys helde out brazen
sheelde availe;
Eftsoones throwe that thie
drivynge speare did peerce
Nor was ytte stopped by his
coate of mayle;
Into his breaste it quicklie
did assayle; 325
Out ran the bloude, like hygra
of the tyde;
With purple stayned all hys
adventayle;
In scarlet was his cuishe
of sylver dyde:
Upon the bloudie carnage house
he laie,
Whylst hys longe sheelde dyd gleem with
the sun’s rysing ray. 330
Next Fescampe felle; O Chrieste,
howe harde his fate
To die the leckedst knyghte
of all the thronge!
His sprite was made of malice
deslavate,
Ne shoulden find a place in
anie songe.
The broch’d keene javlyn
hurld from honde so stronge 335
As thine came thundrynge on
his crysted beave;
Ah! neete avayld the brass
or iron thonge,
With mightie force his skulle
in twoe dyd cleave;
Fallyng he shooken out his
smokyng braine,
As witherd oakes or elmes are hewne from
off the playne. 340
For, Norcie, could thie myghte
and skilfulle lore
Preserve thee from the doom
of Alfwold’s speere;
Couldste thou not kenne, most
skyll’d Astrelagoure.
How in the battle it would
wythe thee fare?
When Alfwolds javelyn, rattlynge
in the ayre, 345
From hande dyvine on thie
habergeon came,
Oute at thy backe it dyd thie
hartes bloude bear,
It gave thee death and everlastynge
fame;
Thy deathe could onlie come
from Alfwolde arme,
As diamondes onlie can its fellow diamonds
harme. 350
Next Sire du Mouline fell
upon the grounde,
Quite throughe his throte
the lethal javlyn preste,
His soule and bloude came
roushynge from the wounde;
He closd his eyen, and opd
them with the blest.
It can ne be I should behight
the rest, 355
That by the myghtie arme of
Alfwolde felle,
Paste bie a penne to be counte
or expreste,
How manie Alfwolde sent to
heaven or helle;
As leaves from trees shook
by derne Autumns hand,
So laie the Normannes slain by Alfwold
on the strand. 360
As when a drove of wolves
withe dreary yelles
Assayle some flocke, ne care
if shepster ken’t,
Besprenge destructione oer
the woodes and delles;
The shepster swaynes in vayne
theyr lees lement;
So foughte the Brystowe menne;
ne one crevent, 365
Ne onne abashd enthoughten
for to flee;
With fallen Normans all the
playne besprent,
And like theyr leaders every
man did flee;
In vayne on every syde the
arrowes fled;
The Brystowe menne styll ragd, for Alfwold
was not dead. 370
Manie meanwhile by Haroldes
arm did falle,
And Leofwyne and Gyrthe encreasd
the slayne;
’Twould take a Nestor’s
age to synge them all,
Or telle how manie Normannes
preste the playne;
But of the erles, whom recorde
nete hath slayne, 375
O Truthe! for good of after-tymes
relate,
That, thowe they’re
deade, theyr names may lyve agayne,
And be in deathe, as they
in life were, greate;
So after-ages maie theyr actions
see,
And like to them aeternal alwaie stryve
to be. 380
Adhelm, a knyghte, whose holie
deathless fire
For ever bended to St. Cuthbert’s
shryne,
Whose breast for ever burnd
with sacred fyre.
And een on erthe he myghte
be calld dyvine;
To Cuthbert’s church
he dyd his goodes resygne, 385
And lefte hys son his God’s
and fortunes knyghte;
His son the Saincte behelde
with looke adigne,
Made him in gemot wyse, and
greate in fyghte;
Saincte Cuthberte dyd him
ayde in all hys deedes,
His friends he lets to live, and all his
fomen bleedes. 390
He married was to Kenewalchae
faire,
The fynest dame the sun or
moone adave;
She was the myghtie Aderedus
heyre,
Who was alreadie hastynge
to the grave;
As the blue Bruton, rysinge
from the wave, 395
Like sea-gods seeme in most
majestic guise.
And rounde aboute the risynge
waters lave,
And their longe hayre arounde
their bodie flies,
Such majestic was in her porte
displaid,
To be excelld bie none but Homer’s
martial maid. 400
White as the chaulkie clyffes
of Brittaines isle,
Red as the highest colour’d
Gallic wine,
Gaie as all nature at the
mornynge smile,
Those hues with pleasaunce
on her lippes combine,
Her lippes more redde than
summer evenynge skyne, 405
Or Phoebus rysinge in a frostie
morne,
Her breste more white than
snow in feeldes that lyene,
Or lillie lambes that never
have been shorne,
Swellynge like bubbles in
a boillynge welle,
Or new-braste brooklettes gently whyspringe
in the delle. 410
Browne as the fylberte droppyng
from the shelle,
Browne as the nappy ale at
Hocktyde game,
So browne the crokyde rynges,
that featlie fell
Over the neck of the all-beauteous
dame.
Greie as the morne before
the ruddie flame 415
Of Phoebus charyotte rollynge
thro the skie,
Greie as the steel-horn’d
goats Conyan made tame,
So greie appeard her featly
sparklyng eye;
Those eyne, that did oft mickle
pleased look
On Adhelm valyaunt man, the virtues doomsday
book. 420
Majestic as the grove of okes
that stoode
Before the abbie buylt by
Oswald kynge;
Majestic as Hybernies holie
woode,
Where sainctes and soules
departed masses synge;
Such awe from her sweete looke
forth issuynge 425
At once for reveraunce and
love did calle;
Sweet as the voice of thraslarkes
in the Spring,
So sweet the wordes that from
her lippes did falle;
None fell in vayne; all shewed
some entent;
Her wordies did displaie her great entendement.
430
Tapre as candles layde at
Cuthberts shryne,
Tapre as elmes that Goodrickes
abbie shrove,
Tapre as silver chalices for
wine,
So tapre was her armes and
shape ygrove.
As skyllful mynemenne by the
stones above 435
Can ken what metalle is ylach’d
belowe,
So Kennewalcha’s face,
ymade for love,
The lovelie ymage of her soule
did shewe;
Thus was she outward form’d;
the sun her mind
Did guilde her mortal shape and all her
charms refin’d. 440
What blazours then, what glorie
shall he clayme,
What doughtie Homere shall
hys praises synge,
That lefte the bosome of so
fayre a dame
Uncall’d, unaskt, to
serve his lorde the kynge?
To his fayre shrine goode
subjects oughte to bringe 445
The armes, the helmets, all
the spoyles of warre,
Throwe everie reaulm the poets
blaze the thynge,
And travelling merchants spredde
hys name to farre;
The stoute Norwegians had
his anlace felte,
And nowe amonge his foes dethe-doynge
blowes he delte. 450
As when a wolfyn gettynge
in the meedes
He rageth sore, and doth about
hym slee,
Nowe here a talbot, there
a lambkin bleeds,
And alle the grasse with clotted
gore doth stree;
As when a rivlette rolles
impetuouslie, 455
And breaks the bankes that
would its force restrayne,
Alonge the playne in fomynge
rynges doth flee,
Gaynste walles and hedges
doth its course maintayne;
As when a manne doth in a
corn-fielde mowe,
With ease at one felle stroke full manie
is laide lowe. 460
So manie, with such force,
and with such ease,
Did Adhelm slaughtre on the
bloudie playne;
Before hym manie dyd theyr
hearts bloude lease,
Ofttymes he foughte on towres
of smokynge slayne.
Angillian felte his force,
nor felte in vayne; 465
He cutte hym with his swerde
athur the breaste;
Out ran the bloude, and did
hys armoure stayne,
He clos’d his eyen in
aeternal reste;
Lyke a tall oke by tempeste
borne awaie,
Stretchd in the armes of dethe upon the
plaine he laie. 470
Next thro the ayre he sent
his javlyn feerce,
That on De Clearmoundes buckler
did alyghte,
Throwe the vaste orbe the
sharpe pheone did peerce,
Rang on his coate of mayle
and spente its mighte.
But soon another wingd its
aiery flyghte, 475
The keen broad pheon to his
lungs did goe;
He felle, and groand upon
the place of fighte,
Whilst lyfe and bloude came
issuynge from the blowe.
Like a tall pyne upon his
native playne,
So fell the mightie sire and mingled with
the slaine. 480
Hue de Longeville, a force
doughtre mere,
Advauncyd forwarde to provoke
the darte,
When soone he founde that
Adhelmes poynted speere
Had founde an easie passage
to his hearte.
He drewe his bowe, nor was
of dethe astarte, 485
Then fell down brethlesse
to encrease the corse;
But as he drewe hys bowe devoid
of arte,
So it came down upon Troyvillains
horse;
Deep thro hys hatchments wente
the pointed floe;
Now here, now there, with rage bleedyng
he rounde doth goe. 490
Nor does he hede his mastres
known commands,
Tyll, growen furiouse by his
bloudie wounde,
Erect upon his hynder feete
he staundes,
And throwes hys mastre far
off to the grounde.
Near Adhelms feete the Normanne
laie astounde, 495
Besprengd his arrowes, loosend
was his sheelde,
Thro his redde armoure, as
he laie ensoond,
He peercd his swerde, and
out upon the feelde
The Normannes bowels steemd,
a dedlie syghte!
He opd and closd hys eyen in everlastynge
nyghte. 500
Caverd, a Scot, who for the
Normannes foughte,
A man well skilld in swerde
and soundynge strynge,
Who fled his country for a
crime enstrote,
For darynge with bolde worde
hys loiaule kynge,
He at Erie Aldhelme with grete
force did flynge 505
An heavie javlyn, made for
bloudie wounde,
Alonge his sheelde askaunte
the same did ringe,
Peered thro the corner, then
stuck in the grounde;
So when the thonder rauttles
in the skie,
Thro some tall spyre the shaftes in a
torn clevis flie. 510
Then Addhelm hurld a croched
javlyn stronge,
With mighte that none but
such grete championes know;
Swifter than thoughte the
javlyn past alonge,
Ande hytte the Scot most feirclie
on the prowe;
His helmet brasted at the
thondring blowe, 515
Into his brain the tremblyn
javlyn steck;
From eyther syde the bloude
began to flow,
And run in circling ringlets
rounde his neck;
Down fell the warriour on
the lethal strande,
Lyke some tall vessel wreckt upon the
tragick sande. 520
CONTINUED.
Where fruytlefs heathes and
meadowes cladde in greie,
Save where derne hawthornes
reare theyr humble heade,
The hungrie traveller upon
his waie
Sees a huge desarte alle arounde
hym spredde,
The distaunte citie scantlie
to be spedde, 525
The curlynge force of smoke
he sees in vayne,
Tis too far distaunte, and
hys onlie bedde
Iwimpled in hys cloke ys on
the playne,
Whylste rattlynge thonder
forrey oer his hedde,
And raines come down to wette hys harde
uncouthlie bedde. 530
A wondrous pyle of rugged
mountaynes standes,
Placd on eche other in a dreare
arraie,
It ne could be the worke of
human handes,
It ne was reared up bie menne
of claie.
Here did the Brutons adoration
paye 535
To the false god whom they
did Tauran name,
Dightynge hys altarre with
greete fyres in Maie,
Roastynge theyr vyctimes round
aboute the flame,
’Twas here that Hengyst
did the Brytons slee,
As they were mette in council for to bee.
540
Neere on a loftie hylle a
citie standes,
That lyftes yts scheafted
heade ynto the skies,
And kynglie lookes arounde
on lower landes,
And the longe browne playne
that before itte lies.
Herewarde, borne of parentes
brave and wyse, 545
Within this vylle fyrste adrewe
the ayre,
A blessynge to the erthe sente
from the skies,
In anie kyngdom nee coulde
fynde his pheer;
Now rybbd in steele he rages
yn the fyghte,
And sweeps whole armies to the reaulmes
of nyghte. 550
So when derne Autumne wyth
hys sallowe hande
Tares the green mantle from
the lymed trees,
The leaves besprenged on the
yellow strande
Flie in whole armies from
the blataunte breeze;
Alle the whole fielde a carnage-howse
he sees, 555
And sowles unknelled hover’d
oer the bloude;
From place to place on either
hand he slees,
And sweepes alle neere hym
lyke a bronded floude;
Dethe honge upon his arme;
he sleed so maynt,
’Tis paste the pointel of a man
to paynte. 560
Bryghte sonne in haste han
drove hys fierie wayne
A three howres course alonge
the whited skyen,
Vewynge the swarthless bodies
on the playne,
And longed greetlie to plonce
in the bryne.
For as hys beemes and far-stretchynge
eyne 565
Did view the pooles of gore
yn purple sheene,
The wolsomme vapours rounde
hys lockes dyd twyne,
And dyd disfygure all hys
femmlikeen;
Then to harde actyon he hys
wayne dyd rowse,
In hyssynge ocean to make glair hys browes.
570
Duke Wyllyam gave commaunde,
eche Norman knyghte,
That been war-token in a shielde
so fyne,
Shoulde onward goe, and dare
to closer fyghte
The Saxonne warryor, that
dyd so entwyne,
Lyke the neshe bryon and the
eglantine, 575
Orre Cornysh wrastlers at
a Hocktyde game.
The Normannes, all emarchialld
in a lyne,
To the ourt arraie of the
thight Saxonnes came;
There ’twas the whaped
Normannes on a parre
Dyd know that Saxonnes were the sonnes
of warre. 580
Oh Turgotte, wheresoeer thie
spryte dothe haunte,
Whither wyth thie lovd Adhelme
by thie syde,
Where thou mayste heare the
swotie nyghte larke chaunte,
Orre wyth some mokynge brooklette
swetelie glide,
Or rowle in ferselie wythe
ferse Severnes tyde, 585
Whereer thou art, come and
my mynde enleme
Wyth such greete thoughtes
as dyd with thee abyde,
Thou sonne, of whom I ofte
have caught a beeme,
Send mee agayne a drybblette
of thie lyghte,
That I the deeds of Englyshmenne maie
wryte. 590
Harold, who saw the Normannes
to advaunce,
Seizd a huge byll, and layd
hym down hys spere;
Soe dyd ech wite laie downe
the broched launce,
And groves of bylles did glitter
in the ayre.
Wyth showtes the Normannes
did to battel steere; 595
Campynon famous for his stature
highe,
Fyrey wythe brasse, benethe
a shyrte of lere,
In cloudie daie he reechd
into the skie;
Neere to Kyng Harolde dyd
he come alonge,
And drewe hys steele Morglaien sworde
so stronge. 600
Thryce rounde hys heade hee
swung hys anlace wyde,
On whyche the sunne his visage
did agleeme,
Then straynynge, as hys membres
would dyvyde,
Hee stroke on Haroldes sheelde
yn manner breme;
Alonge the field it made an
horrid cleembe, 605
Coupeynge Kyng Harolds payncted
sheeld in twayne,
Then yn the bloude the fierie
swerde dyd steeme,
And then dyd drive ynto the
bloudie playne;
So when in ayre the vapours
do abounde,
Some thunderbolte tares trees and dryves
ynto the grounde. 610
Harolde upreer’d hys
bylle, and furious sente
A stroke, lyke thondre, at
the Normannes syde;
Upon the playne the broken
brasse besprente
Dyd ne hys bodie from dethe-doeynge
hyde;
He tournyd backe, and dyd
not there abyde; 615
With straught oute sheelde
hee ayenwarde did goe,
Threwe downe the Normannes,
did their rankes divide,
To save himselfe lefte them
unto the foe;
So olyphauntes, in kingdomme
of the sunne,
When once provok’d doth throwe theyr
owne troopes runne. 620
Harolde, who ken’d hee
was his armies staie,
Nedeynge the rede of generaul
so wyse,
Byd Alfwoulde to Campynon
haste awaie,
As thro the armie ayenwarde
he hies,
Swyfte as a feether’d
takel Alfwoulde flies, 625
The steele bylle blushynge
oer wyth lukewarm bloude;
Ten Kenters, ten Bristowans
for th’ emprize
Hasted wyth Alfwoulde where
Campynon stood,
Who aynewarde went, whylste
everie Normanne knyghte
Dyd blush to see their champyon put to
flyghte. 630
As painctyd Bruton, when a
wolfyn wylde,
When yt is cale and blustrynge
wyndes do blowe,
Enters hys bordelle, taketh
hys yonge chylde,
And wyth his bloude bestreynts
the lillie snowe,
He thoroughe mountayne hie
and dale doth goe, 635
Throwe the quyck torrent of
the bollen ave,
Throwe Severne rollynge oer
the sandes belowe
He skyms alofe, and blents
the beatynge wave,
Ne stynts, ne lagges the chace,
tylle for hys eyne
In peecies hee the morthering theef doth
chyne. 640
So Alfwoulde he dyd to Campynon
haste;
Hys bloudie bylle awhap’d
the Normannes eyne;
Hee fled, as wolfes when bie
the talbots chac’d,
To bloudie byker he dyd ne
enclyne.
Duke Wyllyam stroke hym on
hys brigandyne, 645
And sayd; Campynon, is it
thee I see?
Thee? who dydst actes of glorie
so bewryen,
Now poorlie come to hyde thieselfe
bie mee?
Awaie! thou dogge, and acte
a warriors parte.
Or with mie swerde I’ll perce thee
to the harte. 650
Betweene Erie Alfwoulde and
Duke Wyllyam’s bronde
Campynon thoughte that nete
but deathe coulde bee,
Seezed a huge swerde Morglaien
yn his honde,
Mottrynge a praier to the
Vyrgyne:
So hunted deere the dryvynge
hounds will flee, 655
When theie dyscover they cannot
escape;
And feerful lambkyns, when
theie hunted bee,
Theyre ynfante hunters doe
theie oft awhape;
Thus stoode Campynon, greete
but hertlesse knyghte,
When feere of dethe made hym for deathe
to fyghte. 660
Alfwoulde began to dyghte
hymselfe for fyghte,
Meanewhyle hys menne on everie
syde dyd slee,
Whan on hys lyfted sheelde
withe alle hys myghte
Campynon’s swerde in
burlie-brande dyd dree;
Bewopen Alfwoulde fellen on
his knee; 665
Hys Brystowe menne came in
hym for to save;
Eftsoons upgotten from the
grounde was hee,
And dyd agayne the touring
Norman brave;
Hee graspd hys bylle in syke
a drear arraie,
Hee seem’d a lyon catchynge at hys
preie. 670
Upon the Normannes brazen
adventayle
The thondrynge bill of myghtie
Alfwould came;
It made a dentful bruse, and
then dyd fayle;
Fromme rattlynge weepons shotte
a sparklynge flame;
Eftsoons agayne the thondrynge
bill ycame, 675
Peers’d thro hys adventayle
and skyrts of lare;
A tyde of purple gore came
wyth the same,
As out hys bowells on the
feelde it tare;
Campynon felle, as when some
cittie-walle
Inne dolefulle terrours on its mynours
falle. 680
He felle, and dyd the Norman
rankes dyvide;
So when an oke, that shotte
ynto the skie,
Feeles the broad axes peersynge
his broade syde,
Slowlie hee falls and on the
grounde doth lie,
Pressynge all downe that is
wyth hym anighe, 685
And stoppynge wearie travellers
on the waie;
So straught upon the playne
the Norman hie
* * * * *
Bled, gron’d, and dyed;
the Normanne knyghtes astound
To see the bawsin champyon preste upon
the grounde. 690
As when the hygra of the Severne
roars,
And thunders ugsom on the
sandes below,
The cleembe reboundes to Wedecesters
shore,
And sweeps the black sande
rounde its horie prowe;
So bremie Alfwoulde thro the
warre dyd goe; 695
Hys Kenters and Brystowans
slew ech syde,
Betreinted all alonge with
bloudless foe,
And seemd to swymm alonge
with bloudie tyde;
Fromme place to place besmeard
with bloud they went,
And rounde aboute them swarthless corse
besprente. 700
A famous Normanne who yclepd
Aubene,
Of skyll in bow, in tylte,
and handesworde fyghte
That daie yn feelde han manie
Saxons sleene,
Forre hee in sothen was a
manne of myghte;
Fyrste dyd his swerde on Adelgar
alyghte, 705
As hee on horseback was, and
peersd hys gryne,
Then upwarde wente: in
everlastynge nyghte
Hee closd hys rollyng and
dymsyghted eyne.
Next Eadlyn, Tatwyn, and fam’d
Adelred,
Bie various causes sunken to the dead.
710
But now to Alfwoulde he opposynge
went,
To whom compar’d hee
was a man of stre,
And wyth bothe hondes a myghtie
blowe he sente
At Alfwouldes head, as hard
as hee could dree;
But on hys payncted sheelde
so bismarlie 715
Aslaunte his swerde did go
ynto the grounde;
Then Alfwould him attack’d
most furyouslie,
Athrowe hys gaberdyne hee
dyd him wounde,
Then soone agayne hys swerde
hee dyd upryne,
And clove his creste and split hym to
the eyne. 720
* * * * *
[Footnote 1: In Turgott’s tyme Holenwell braste of erthe so fierce that it threw a stone-mell carrying the same awaie. J. Lydgate ne knowynge this lefte out o line.]
[Editor’s note: l. 578 see Introduction p. xlij]
As onn a hylle one eve sittynge,
At oure Ladie’s Chyrche mouche wonderynge,
The counynge handieworke so fyne,
Han well nighe dazeled mine eyne;
Quod I; some counynge fairie hande
5
Yreer’d this chapelle in this lande;
Full well I wote so fine a syghte
Was ne yreer’d of mortall wighte.
Quod Trouthe; thou lackest knowlachynge;
Thou forsoth ne wotteth of the thynge.
10
A Rev’rend Fadre, William Canynge
hight,
Yreered uppe this chapelle brighte;
And eke another in the Towne,
Where glassie bubblynge Trymme doth roun.
Quod I; ne doubte for all he’s given
15
His sowle will certes goe to heaven.
Yea, quod Trouthe; than goe thou home,
And see thou doe as hee hath donne.
Quod I; I doubte, that can ne bee;
I have ne gotten markes three.
20
Quod Trouthe; as thou hast got, give almes-dedes
soe;
Canynges and Gaunts culde doe ne moe.
T.R.
Stay, curyous traveller, and
pass not bye,
Until this fetive pile astounde
thine eye.
Whole rocks on rocks with
yron joynd surveie,
And okes with okes entremed
disponed lie.
This mightie pile, that keeps
the wyndes at baie, 5
Fyre-levyn and the mokie storme
defie,
That shootes aloofe into the
reaulmes of daie,
Shall be the record of the Buylders fame
for aie.
Thou seest this maystrie of
a human hand,
The pride of Brystowe and
the Westerne lande, 10
Yet is the Buylders vertues
much moe greete,
Greeter than can bie Rowlies
pen be scande.
Thou seest the saynctes and
kynges in stonen state,
That seemd with breath and
human soule dispande,
As payrde to us enseem these
men of slate, 15
Such is greete Canynge’s mynde when
payrd to God elate.
Well maiest thou be astound,
but view it well;
Go not from hence before thou
see thy fill,
And learn the Builder’s
vertues and his name;
Of this tall spyre in every
countye telle, 20
And with thy tale the lazing
rych men shame;
Showe howe the glorious Canynge
did excelle;
How hee good man a friend
for kynges became,
And gloryous paved at once the way to
heaven and fame.
EPITAPH ON ROBERT CANYNGE.
Thys mornynge starre of Radcleves
rysynge raie,
A true manne good of mynde
and Canynge hyghte,
Benethe thys stone lies moltrynge
ynto claie,
Untylle the darke tombe sheene
an eterne lyghte.
Thyrde fromme hys loynes the
present Canynge came;
Houton are wordes for to telle
Anent a brooklette as I laie reclynd,
Listeynge to heare the water glyde alonge,
Myndeynge how thorowe the grene mees yt
twynd,
Awhilst the cavys respons’d yts
mottring songe,
At dystaunt rysyng Avonne to be sped,
5
Amenged wyth rysyng hylles dyd shewe yts
head;
Engarlanded wyth crownes of osyer weedes
And wraytes of alders of a bercie scent,
And stickeynge out wyth clowde agested
reedes,
The hoarie Avonne show’d dyre semblamente,
10
Whylest blataunt Severne, from Sabryna
clepde,
Rores flemie o’er the sandes that
she hepde.
These eynegears swythyn bringethe to mie
thowghte
Of hardie champyons knowen to the floude,
How onne the bankes thereof brave AElle
foughte, 15
AElle descended from Merce kynglie bloude,
Warden of Brystowe towne and castel stede,
Who ever and anon made Danes to blede.
Methoughte such doughtie menn must have
a sprighte
Dote yn the armour brace that Mychael
bore, 20
Whan he wyth Satan kynge of helle dyd
fyghte,
And earthe was drented yn a mere of gore;
Orr, soone as theie dyd see the worldis
lyghte,
Fate had wrott downe, thys mann ys borne
to fyghte.
AElle, I sayd, or els my mynde dyd saie,
25
Whie ys thy actyons left so spare yn storie?
Were I toe dispone, there should lyvven
aie
In erthe and hevenis rolles thie tale
of glorie;
Thie actes soe doughtie should for aie
abyde,
And bie theyre teste all after actes be
tryde. 30
Next holie Wareburghus fylld mie mynde,
As fayre a sayncte as anie towne can boaste,
Or bee the erthe wyth lyghte or merke
ywrynde,
I see hys ymage waulkeyng throwe the coaste:
Fitz Hardynge, Bithrickus, and twentie
moe 35
Ynn visyonn fore mie phantasie dyd goe.
Thus all mie wandrynge faytour thynkeynge
strayde,
And eche dygne buylder dequac’d
onn mie mynde,
Whan from the distaunt streeme arose a
mayde,
Whose gentle tresses mov’d not to
the wynde; 40
Lyche to the sylver moone yn frostie neete,
The damoiselle dyd come soe blythe and
sweete.
Ne browded mantell of a scarlette hue,
Ne shoone pykes plaited o’er wyth
ribbande geere,
Ne costlie paraments of woden blue,
45
Noughte of a dresse, but bewtie dyd shee
weere;
Naked shee was, and loked swete of youthe,
All dyd bewryen that her name was Trouthe.
The ethie ringletts of her notte-browne
hayre
What ne a manne should see dyd swotelie
hyde, 50
Whych on her milk-white bodykin so fayre
Dyd showe lyke browne streemes fowlyng
the white tyde,
Or veynes of brown hue yn a marble cuarr,
Whyche by the traveller ys kenn’d
from farr.
Astounded mickle there I sylente laie,
55
Still scauncing wondrous at the walkynge
syghte;
Mie senses forgarde ne coulde reyn awaie;
But was ne forstraughte whan shee dyd
alyghte
Anie to mee, dreste up yn naked viewe,
Whych mote yn some ewbrycious thoughtes
abrewe. 60
But I ne dyd once thynke of wanton thoughte;
For well I mynded what bie vowe I hete,
And yn mie pockate han a crouchee broughte,
Whych yn the blosom woulde such sins anete;
I lok’d wyth eyne as pure as angelles
doe, 65
And dyd the everie thoughte of foule eschewe.
Wyth sweet semblate and an angel’s
grace
Shee ’gan to lecture from her gentle
breste;
For Trouthis wordes ys her myndes face,
False oratoryes she dyd aie deteste:
70
Sweetnesse was yn eche worde she dyd ywreene,
Tho shee strove not to make that sweetnesse
sheene.
Shee sayd; mie manner of appereynge here
Mie name and sleyghted myndbruch maie
thee telle;
I’m Trouthe, that dyd descende fromm
heavenwere, 75
Goulers and courtiers doe not kenne mee
welle;
Thie inmoste thoughtes, thie labrynge
brayne I sawe,
And from thie gentle dreeme will thee
adawe.
Full manie champyons and menne of lore,
Payncters and carvellers have gaind good
name, 80
But there’s a Canynge, to encrease
the store,
A Canynge, who shall buie uppe all theyre
fame.
Take thou mie power, and see yn chylde
and manne
What troulie noblenesse yn Canynge ranne.
As when a bordelier onn ethie bedde,
85
Tyr’d wyth the laboures maynt of
sweltrie daie,
Yn slepeis bosom laieth hys deft headde,
So, senses sonke to reste, mie boddie
laie;
Eftsoons mie sprighte, from erthlie bandes
untyde,
Immengde yn flanched ayre wyth Trouthe
asyde. 90
Strayte was I carryd back to tymes of
yore,
Whylst Canynge swathed yet yn fleshlie
bedde,
And saw all actyons whych han been before,
And all the scroll of Fate unravelled;
And when the fate-mark’d babe acome
to syghte, 95
I saw hym eager gaspynge after lyghte.
In all hys shepen gambols and chyldes
plaie.
In everie merriemakeyng, fayre or wake,
I kenn’d a perpled lyghte of Wysdom’s
raie;
He eate downe learnynge wyth the wastle
cake. 100
As wise as anie of the eldermenne,
He’d wytte enowe toe make a mayre
at tenne.
As the dulce downie barbe beganne to gre,
So was the well thyghte texture of hys
lore;
Eche daie enhedeynge mockler for to bee,
105
Greete yn hys councel for the daies he
bore.
All tongues, all carrols dyd unto hym
synge,
Wondryng at one soe wyse, and yet soe
yinge.
Encreaseynge yn the yeares of mortal lyfe,
And hasteynge to hys journie ynto heaven,
110
Hee thoughte ytt proper for to cheese
a wyfe,
And use the sexes for the purpose gevene.
Hee then was yothe of comelie semelikeede,
And hee had made a mayden’s herte
to blede.
He had a fader, (Jesus rest hys soule!)
115
Who loved money, as hys charie joie;
Hee had a broder (happie manne be’s
dole!)
Yn mynde and boddie, hys owne fadre’s
boie;
What then could Canynge wissen as a parte
To gyve to her whoe had made chop of hearte?
120
But landes and castle tenures, golde and
bighes,
And hoardes of sylver rousted yn the ent,
Canynge and hys fayre sweete dyd that
despyse,
To change of troulie love was theyr content;
Theie lyv’d togeder yn a house adygne,
125
Of goode fendaument commilie and fyne.
But soone hys broder and hys syre dyd
die,
And lefte to Willyam states and renteynge
rolles,
And at hys wyll hys broder Johne supplie.
Hee gave a chauntrie to redeeme theyre
soules; 130
And put hys broder ynto syke a trade,
That he lorde mayor of Londonne towne
was made.
Eftsoons hys mornynge tournd to gloomie
nyghte;
Hys dame, hys seconde selfe, gyve upp
her brethe,
Seekeynge for eterne lyfe and endless
lyghte, 135
And sleed good Canynge; sad mystake of
dethe!
Soe have I seen a flower ynn Sommer tyme
Trodde downe and broke and widder ynn
ytts pryme.
Next Radeleeve chyrche (oh worke of hande
of heav’n,
Whare Canynge sheweth as an instrumente.)
140
Was to my bismarde eyne-syghte newlie
giv’n;
’Tis past to blazonne ytt to good
contente.
You that woulde faygn the fetyve buyldynge
see
Repayre to Radcleve, and contented bee.
I sawe the myndbruch of hys nobille soule
145
Whan Edwarde meniced a seconde wyfe;
I saw what Pheryons yn hys mynde dyd rolle;
Nowe fyx’d fromm seconde dames a
preeste for lyfe.
Thys ys the manne of menne, the vision
spoke;
Then belle for even-songe mie senses woke.
150
ON HAPPIENESSE, by WILLIAM CANYNGE.
Maie Selynesse on erthes boundes bee hadde?
Maie yt adyghte yn human shape bee founde?
Wote yee, ytt was wyth Edin’s bower
bestadde,
Or quite eraced from the scaunce-layd
grounde,
Whan from the secret fontes the waterres
dyd abounde?
Does yt agrosed shun the bodyed waulke,
Lyve to ytself and to yttes ecchoe taulke?
All hayle, Contente, thou mayde of turtle-eyne,
As thie behoulders thynke thou arte iwreene,
To ope the dore to Selynesse ys thyne,
And Chrystis glorie doth upponne thee
sheene.
Doer of the foule thynge ne hath thee
seene;
In caves, ynn wodes, ynn woe, and dole
distresse,
Whoere hath thee hath gotten Selynesse.
ONN JOHNE A DALBENIE, by the same.
Johne makes a jarre boute Lancaster and
Yorke;
Bee stille, gode manne, and learne to
mynde thie worke.
THE GOULER’S REQUIEM, by the same.
Mie boolie entes, adieu! ne
moe the syghte
Of guilden merke shall mete
mie joieous eyne,
Ne moe the sylver noble sheenynge
bryghte
Schall fyll mie honde with
weight to speke ytt fyne;
Ne moe, ne moe, alass!
I call you myne:
5
Whydder must you, ah! whydder
must I goe?
I kenn not either; oh mie
emmers dygne,
To parte wyth you wyll wurcke
mee myckle woe;
I muste be gonne, botte whare
I dare ne telle;
O storthe unto mie mynde! I goe to
helle. 10
Soone as the morne dyd dyghte
the roddie sunne,
A shade of theves eche streake
of lyght dyd seeme;
Whann ynn the heavn full half
hys course was runn,
Eche stirryng nayghbour dyd
mie harte afleme;
Thye loss, or quyck or slepe,
was aie mie dreme; 15
For thee, O gould, I dyd the
lawe ycrase;
For thee I gotten or bie wiles
or breme;
Ynn thee I all mie joie and
good dyd place;
Botte now to mee thie pleasaunce
ys ne moe,
I kenne notte botte for thee I to the
quede must goe. 20
Thorowe the halle the belle han sounde;
Byelecoyle doe the Grave beseeme;
The ealdermenne doe sytte arounde,
Ande snoffelle oppe the cheorte steeme.
Lyche asses wylde ynne desarte waste
5
Swotelye the morneynge ayre doe taste,
Syke keene theie ate; the minstrels plaie,
The dynne of angelles doe theie keepe;
Heie stylle the guestes ha ne to saie,
Butte nodde yer thankes ande falle aslape.
10
Thus echone daie bee I to deene,
Gyf Rowley, Iscamm, or Tyb. Gorges
be ne seene.
THE END. [Illustration]
[NOTE ON THE GLOSSARY
The following glossary was compiled by Tyrwhitt before he had discovered Chatterton’s use of Kersey’s and Bailey’s dictionaries (vide Introduction, p. xxviii) and a number of words were thus necessarily left unexplained by him. The present editor has added, in square brackets, explanations of all these words except about half-a-dozen which neither Kersey’s Dictionarium Anglo-Britannicum (K.), nor Bailey’s Universal Etymological Dictionary (B.), nor the glossary to Speght’s edition of Chaucer (Speght), nor the notes of Prof. Skeat in his 1871 edition (Sk.), nor any native ingenuity of his own has served to elucidate.]
In the following Glossary, the explanations of words by CHATTERTON, at the bottom of the several pages, are drawn together, and digested alphabetically, with the letter C. after each of them. But it should be observed, that these explanations are not to be admitted but with great caution; a considerable number of them being (as far as the Editor can judge) unsupported by authority or analogy. The explanations of some other words, omitted by CHATTERTON, have been added by the Editor, where the meaning of the writer was sufficiently clear, and the word itself did not recede too far from the established usage; but he has been obliged to leave many others for the consideration of more learned or more sagacious interpreters.
AE stands for AElla; a tragycal enterlude, Ba. ------ The dethe of Syr C. Bawdin, Ch. ------ Balade of Charitie, E. I. —— Eclogue the first, E. II. —– Eclogue the second, E. III. — Eclogue the third, El. ------ Elinoure and Juga, Ent. ----- Entroductionne to AElla, Ep. ------ Epistle to M. Canynge, G. ------- Goddwyn; a Tragedie, H. 1. —— Battle of Hastings, No 1. H. 2. —— Battle of Hastings, No 2. Le. ------ Letter to M. Canynge, M. ------- Englysh Metamorphosis, P.G. ----- Prologue to Goddwyn, T. ------- Tournament,
The other references are made to the pages.
A GLOSSARY.
[B.=Bailey’s Universal Etymological Dictionary (8th ed. 1737). K.=Kersey’s Dictionarium Anglo-Britannicum (1708). Sk.=Prof. Skeat’s Aldine Edition (1871). Speght=Glossary to Speght’s Chaucer (1598). T.=Tyrwhitt. C.=Chatterton’s notes to the poems.]
Abessie, E. III. 89. Humility. C.
Aborne, T. 45. Burnished. C.
Abounde, H. 1. 55. [Evidently avail; K. B. and Speght do not help.]
Aboune, G. 53. Make ready. C.
Abredynge, AE. 334. Upbraiding. C.
Abrewe, p. 281. 60. as Brew.
Abrodden, E. I. 6. Abruptly. C.
Acale, G. 191. Freeze. C.
Accaie, AE. 356. Asswage. C.
Achments, T. 153. Atchievements. C.
Acheke, G. 47. Choke. C.
Achevments, AE. 65. Services. C.
Acome, p. 283. 95. as Come.
Acrool, El. 6. Faintly. C.
Adave, H. 2. 402. [Probably beheld; cannot be explained from K., who has nothing nearer than adawe (O.), to awaken; awoke can hardly be the meaning.]
Adawe, p. 282. 78. Awake.
Addawd, H. 2. 110. [Limply. Sk. translates wakened from B.’s addawe, to waken, which makes no sense. K. has ’adaw, to awaken; but it is used by the poet Spencer to slacken’; hence the meaning I have given.]
Adente, AE 396. Fastened. C.
Adented, G. 32. Fastened, annexed. C.
Aderne, H. 2. 272. See Derne, Dernie.
[Sad, cruel, from K.’s dern
(O.), sad, &c.]
Adigne. See Adygne.
Adrames, Ep. 27. Churls. C.
Adventaile, T. 13. Armour. C.
Adygne, Le. 46. Nervous; worthy of praise. C.
Affynd, H. 1. 132. Related by marriage.
Afleme, p. 287. 14. as Fleme; to drive away, to affright.
After la goure, H. 2. 353. should probably be Astrelagour;
Astrologer. [A singular mistake for B.’s Asterlagour
an astrolabe.
Sk.]
[Agested, p. 278. 9. Heaped up (B.). (For C.’s clowde Sk. boldly reads clod.)]
Agrame, G. 93. Grievance. C.
Agreme, AE 356. Torture. C.—G. 5. Grievance. C.
Agrosed, p. 286. 6. as Agrised, terrified.
Agroted, AE. 348. See Groted.
Agylted, AE. 334. Offended. C.
Aidens, AE. 222. Aidance.
Ake, E. II. 8. Oak. C.
Alans, H. 2. 124. Hounds.
Alatche, AE. 117. [? call for help. K. has latch (O.) release, let go, but this cannot be the meaning intended.]
Aledge, G. 5. Idly. C.
Alest, AE. 50. Lest.
All a boon, E. III. 41. A manner of asking a favour. C.
Alleyn, E. I. 52. Only. C.
Almer, Ch. 20. Beggar. C.
[Alofe, H. 1. 292. Aloft.]
[Alse, AE. 1063. Else.]
Aluste, H. i. 88. [The sense is clearly draw himself out, release himself; but K. B. and Speght throw no light on the word.]
Alyne, T. 79. Across his shoulders. C.
Alyse, Le. 29. Allow. C.
Amate, AE. 58. Destroy. C.
Amayld, E. II. 49. Enameled. C.
Ameded, AE. 54. Rewarded.
Amenged, p. 278. 6. as Menged; mixed.
Amenused, E. II. 5. Diminished. C.
[Ametten, M. 46. Met.]
Amield, T. 5. Ornamented, enameled. C.
[Anenste, as Anente; against.]
Anente, AE. 475. Against. C.
Anere, AE. 15. Another. C. [Ep. 48. another time or occasion.]
Anete, p. 281. 64. [put an end to, from C.’s nete, nothing.]
Anie, p. 281. 59. as Nie; nigh.
[Anie, H. 1. 120. Annoy.]
Anlace, G. 57. An ancient sword. C.
Antecedent, AE. 233. Going before.
Applings, E. I. 33. Grafted trees. C.
Arace, G. 156. Divest. C.
[Arcublaster, H. 2. 52. K. has arcubalista, a warlike engine for casting great stones, and Speght has arblasters, crosse-bowes. This last is evidently C.’s meaning.]
[Ardurous, p.25. 30. ? as if ardourous, valiant.]
Arist, Ch. 10. Arose. C.
Arrowe-lede, H. 1. 74. [Neither K.B. nor Speght throws any light on _-lede_. Sk. reads arrow-head.]
Ascaunce, E. III. 52. Disdainfully. C.
Asenglave, H. 1. 117. [Ashen-spear. K. has glaive, a weapon like a halbert.]
Askaunted, Le. 19. [Look carelessly at, from two words side by side in K., askaunce (O.), if by chance, and askaunt (O.) to look askaunt i.e. to look sideways.]
Aslee, AE 504. [Probably sidle would give the meaning. Sk. renders dost but slide away.]
Asseled, E. III. 14. Answered. C.
Ashrewed. Ch. 24. Accursed, unfortunate. C.
Asswaie, E. 352. [There is no satisfactory explanation; the sense is clearly cause.]
Astedde, E. II. II. Seated. C.
Astende, G. 47. Astonish. C.
Asterte, G. 137. Neglected. C.
Astoun, E. II. 5. Astonished. C.
Astounde, M. 83. Astonish. C.
Asyde, p. 282. 90. perhaps Astyde; ascended.
[More probably wyth
Trouthe asyde means at the side of Truth.]
Athur, H. 2. 466. as Thurgh; thorough.
Attenes, AE 18. At once. C.
Attoure, T. 115. Turn. C.
Attoure, AE 322. Around.
Ave, H. 2. 636. for Eau. Fr. Water.
Aumere, Ch. 7. A loose robe, or mantle. C.
Aumeres, E. III. 25. Borders of gold and silver, &c. C.
Aunture, H. 2. 133. as Aventure: adventure. Autremete, Ch. 52. A loose white robe, worn by priests. C.
Awhaped, AE. 400. Astonished. C.
Aynewarde, Ch. 47. Backwards. C.
Bankes, T. III. Benches.
[Bante, AE. 207. Banned, cursed.]
Barb’d hall, AE. 219. [See Appendix, p. 317, Sec. 8.]
Barbed horse, AE. 27. Covered with armour.
[Bardi, H. 1. 305. Bards. (Latin plural!)]
Baren, AE. 880, for Barren.
Barganette, E. III. 49. A song, or ballad. C.
Bataunt, Ba. 276. 292. [Evidently a musical instrument, but Sk. can get no nearer an etymological explanation than O.F. battant, a fuller’s mallet.]
Battayles, AE. 707. Boats, ships. Fr.
Batten, G. 3. Fatten. C.
Battent, T. 52. Loudly. C.
Battently, G. 50. Loud roaring. C.
Battone, H. 1. 520. Beat with sticks. Fr.
Baubels, Ent. 7. Jewels. C.
Bawfin, AE. 57. Large. C.
Bayre, E. II. 76. Brow. C.
Beheste, G. 60. Command. C.
Behight, H. 2. 365. [Name; from hight, called.]
Behylte, AE. 939. Promised. C.
Belent, H. 2. 121. [? from Speght’s blent, stayed, turned back.]
Beme, AE. 563. Trumpet.
Bemente, E. I. 45. Lament. C.
Benned, AE. 1185. Cursed, tormented. C.
Benymmynge, P.G. 3. Bereaving. C.
Bercie, p. 278. 8. [No explanation.]
Berne, AE. 580. Child. C.
Berten, T. 58. Venomous. C.
Beseies, T. 124. Becomes. C.
Besprente, T. 132. Scattered. C.
Bestadde, p. 286. 3. [Lost, K.’s bestad (O.).]
Bestanne, AE. 411. [=Bestadde.]
Bested, H. 2. 140. [Contended. ? from B.’s bestad, beset, oppressed.]
Bestoiker, AE. 91. Deceiver. C.
Bestreynts, H. 2. 634. [Sprinkles, from K.’s betreint (O.), sprinkled; but affected by bestrewed.]
Bete, G. 85. Bid. C.
Betrassed, G. 7. Deceived, imposed on. C.
Betraste, AE. 1031. Betrayed. C.
Betreinted, H. 2. [634] 707. [Sprinkled; from K.’s betreint (O.), sprinkled.]
Bevyle, E. II. 57. Break. A herald term signifying a spear broken in tilting. C.
Bewrate, H. 2. 127. [Treachery.]
Bewrecke, G. 101. Revenge. C.
Bewreen, AE. 6. Express. C.
Bewryen, Le. 42. Declared, expressed. C.
Bewryne, G. 72. Declare. C.
Bewrynning, T. 128. Declaring. C.
Bighes, AE. 371. Jewels. C.
Birlette, E. III. 24. A hood, or covering for the back part of the head. C.
Bismarde, p. 285. 141. [Curious, wondering;
from bismar, curiosity,
K.B. and Speght.]
Blake, AE. 178. 407. Naked. C.
Blakied, E. III. 4. Naked, original. C.
Blanche, AE. 369. White, pure.
Blaunchie, E. II. 50. White. C.
Blatauntlie, AE. 108. Loudly. C.
[Blents, H. 2. 638. ?]
Blente, E. III. 39. Ceased, dead. C.
Blethe, T. 98. Bleed. C.
Blynge, AE. 334. Cease. C.
Blyn, E. II. 40. Cease, stand still. C.
Boddekin, AE. 265. Body, substance. C.
Boleynge, M. 17. Swelling. C.
[Bollen, II. 2. 636. Swollen (K.).]
Bollengers and Cottes, E. II. 33. Different kinds of boats. C.
Boolie, E. I. 46. Beloved. C.
Bordel, E. III. 2. Cottage. C.
Bordelier, AE. 410. Cottager.
Borne, T. 13. AE. 741. Burnish. C.
[Borne, H. 2. 289. ?_ground_. (No satisfactory explanation.)]
Boun, E. II. 40. Make ready. C.
Bounde, T. 32. Ready. C.
Bourne, AE. 483. [Borne.]
Bouting matche, p. 23. 2. [Bout, trial of skill.]
Bowke, T. 19.—Bowkie, G. 133. Body. C.
Brasteth, G. 123. Bursteth. C.
Brayd, G. 77. Displayed. C.
Brayde, AE 1010. [cf. B.’s braid, a small lace, &c.]
Breme, subst. G. 12. Strength. C.
------adj. E. II. 6. Strong. C.
Brende, G. 50. Burn, consume. C.
Bretful, Ch. 19. Filled with. C.
[Brigandyne, H. 2. 645. An old-fashioned coat of mail, K.]
Broched, H. 2. 335. Pointed.
Brondeous, E. II. 24. Furious. C.
Browded, G. 130. Embroidered. C.
Brynnyng, AE. 680. Declaring. C. [? contracted for bewrynning.]
Burled, M. 20. Armed. C.
Burlie bronde, G. 7. Fury, anger. C.
[Burne, AE. 585. H. 2. 265. ? Run (no explanation).]
Byelecoyle, p. 288. 2. Bel-acueil. Fr. the name of a personage in the Roman de la Rose, which Chaucer has rendered Fair welcoming. [Speght followed by K. has Bialacoyl [Fr. Bel-acueil], faire welcoming. C. did not observe that the word was a proper name, but uses it to mean hospitality.]
Byker, AE. 246. Battle.
Bykrous, M. 37. Warring. C.
Bysmare, M. 95. Bewildered, curious. C.
Bysmarelie, Le. 26. Curiously. C.
Cale, AE. 854. Cold.
Calke, G. 25. Cast. C.
Calked, E. I. 49. Cast out. C.
Caltysning, G. 67. Forbidding. C.
Carnes, AE. 1243. Rocks, stones. Brit.
Castle-stede, G. 100. A Castle. C.
Caties, H. 2. 67. Cates. [Dainties.]
Caytisned, AE. 32. Binding, enforcing. C. [AE. 1104. Bound, fettered.]
Celness, AE. 882. [Probably coldness; no explanation.]
Chafe, AE. 191. Hot. C.
Chastes, G. 201. Beats, stamps. C.
Champion, v. P.G. 12. Challenge. C.
Chaper, E. III. 48. Dry, sunburnt. C.
Chapournette, Ch. 45. A small round hat. C.
Chefe, G. 11. Heat, rashness. C.
Chelandree, AE. 105. Gold-finch. C.
Cheorte, p. 288. 4. [? Pleasant; K. B. and Speght have chert, cheorte, love, jealousy, and K. and B. have also chertes, merry people.]
Cherisaunce, Ent. 1. Comfort. C.
Cherisaunied, AE. 839. perhaps Cherisaunced. [The mistake is in C.’s authorities; Cherisaunei (K.) Cherisaunie (B.).]
Cheves, Ch. 37. Moves. C.
Chevysed, Ent. 2. Preserved. C.
Chirckynge, M. 23. A confused noise. C.
Church-glebe-house, Ch. 24. Grave. C.
[Chyne, H. 2. 640. Cut thro’ the back. K.]
[Cleembe, as Cleme.]
Cleme, E. II. 9. Sound. C.
Clergyon, P.G. 8. Clerk, or clergyman. C.
Clergyon’d, Ent. 13. Taught. C.
Clevis, H. 2. 46. [Cliffs, or rocks. K.]
Cleyne, AE. 1102. [Sound. ? from clymbe (O.) noise. K.]
Clinie, H. 1. 431. [Apparently a declination, a stooping attitude; part of the science of arms.]
Cloude-agested, p. 278. 9. [See Agested.]
Clymmynge, Ch. 36. Noisy. C.
Coistrell, H. 2. 88. [A young lad (O.) K.]
Compheeres, M. 21. Companions. C.
Congeon, E. III. 89. Dwarf. C.
Contake, T. 87. Dispute. C.
Conteins, H. 1. 223. for Contents.
Conteke, E. II. 10. Confuse; contend-with. C.
Contekions, AE. 553. Contentions. C.
Cope, Ch. 50. A cloke. C.
Corven, AE. 56. See Yeorven.
Cotte, E. II. 24. Cut.
Cottes, E. II. 33. See Bollengers.
Coupe, E. II. 7. Cut. C.
Couraciers, T. 74. Horse-coursers. C.
Coyen, AE. 125. Coy. q?
Cravent, E. III. 39. Coward. C.
Creand, AE. 581. as Recreand.
Crine, AE. 851. Hair. C.
Croched, H. 2. 511. perhaps Broched. [What is broched? Sk. renders crooked, but surely a javelin should be straight. Perhaps C. was thinking of the cross-piece of a halbert. Cf. croche.]
Croche, v. G. 26. Cross. C.
Crokynge, AE. 119. Bending.
Cross-stone, AE. 1122. Monument. C. [Crouchee, p. 281. 63. Cross; from Speght’s crouch, cross.]
Cuarr, p. 281. 53. Quarry. q?
[Cuishes, H. 2. 230. Armour for the thighs; cuisses K.]
Cullis-yatte, E. I. 50. Portcullis-gate. C.
Curriedowe, G. 176. Flatterer. C.
Cuyen kine, E. I. 35. Tender cows. C.
Dareygne, G. 26. Attempt, endeavour. C.
Declynie, H. i. 161. Declination. q? [See Clinie.]
Decorn, E. II. 14. Carved. C.
Deene, E. II. 69. Glorious, worthy. C.
[Deene, p. 288. II. Dine?]
Deere, E. III. 88. Dire. C.
Defs, M. 9. Vapours, meteors. C.
Defayte, G. 52. Decay. C.
Defte, Ch. 7. Neat, ornamental. C.
Deigned, E. III. 53. Disdained. C.
Delievretie, T. 44. Activity. C.
Demasing, H. 1. 276. [?_Considering_; no explanation.]
Dente, AE. 886. See Adente.
Dented, AE. 263. See Adented.
Denwere, G. 141. Doubt. C.—M. 13. Tremour. C.
Dequace, G. 56. Mangle, destroy. C.
Dequaced, p. 280. 38. [Dashed K. and Speght.]
Dere, Ep. 5. Hurt, damage. C.
Derkynnes, AE. 229. Young deer. q?
Derne, AE. 582.—H. 2. 522. [Barbarous, cruel K.]
Dernie, E. I. 19. Woeful, lamentable. C.——M. 106. Cruel. C.
Deslavate, H. 2. 333. [Lecherous, beastly, from K.’s deslavy.]
Dellavatie, AE. 1047. Letchery. C.
Detratours, H. 2. 78. [Slanderous detractors.]
Deysed, AE. 46. Seated on a deis.
Dheie; They.
Dhere, AE. 192. There.
Dhereof; Thereof.
Difficile, AE. 358. Difficult. C.
Dighte, Ch. 7. Drest, arrayed. C.
Dispande, p. 276. ult. perhaps for Disponed. [B. has dispand, to stretch out.] Dispone, p. 279. 27. Dispose.
Divinistre, AE. 141. Divine. C.
Dolce, AE. 1187. Soft, gentle. C.
Dole, n. G. 137. Lamentation. C.
Dole, adj. p. 283. 13. [Doleful.]
Dolte, Ep. 27. Foolish. C.
[Dolthead, H. 1. 335. Blockhead.]
Donde, H. 1. 51. [Done, finished.]
Donore, H. 1. 5. This line should probably be written thus; O sea-oerteeming Dovor!
Dortoure, Ch. 25. A sleeping room. C.
Dote, p. 279. 20. perhaps as Dighte.
Doughtre mere, H. 2. 481. D’outre mere. Fr. From beyond sea.
[Draffs, AE. 717. Lees, dregs, so useless, worthless.]
Dree, AE. 983. [H. 2. 664. _? Work_, or Drive.]
Drefte, AE. 466. Least. C.
[Drenche, AE. 85. Drink. (Really to dose with medicine.)]
Drented, G. 91. Drained. C.
Dreynted, AE. 237. Drowned. C.
Dribblet, E. II. 48. Small, insignificant. C.
Drites, G. 65. Rights, liberties. C.
Drocke, T. 40. Drink. C.
Droke, AE. 461. [Meaning and source quite uncertain.]
Droorie, Ep. 47. See Chatterton’s note. Druerie is Courtship, gallantry.
Drooried, AE. 127. Courted. [Probably modest, from B.’s drury, modesty.]
Dulce, p. 283. 103. as Dolce.
Duressed, E. I. 39. Hardened. C.
Dyd, H. 2. 9. should probably be Dyght.
Dygne, T. 89. Worthy. C.
[Dyngeynge, AE. 458. Dinging or striking.]
Dynning, E. I. 25. Sounding. C.
Dysperpellest, AE. 414. Scatterest. C.
Dysporte, E. I. 28. Pleasure. C.
Dysportisment, AE. 250. as Dysporte.
Dysregate, AE. 542. [_? Deprive of command_.]
Edraw, H. 2. 52. for Ydraw; Draw.
Eft, E. II. 78. Often. C.
Eftsoones, E. III. 54. Quickly. C.
Ele, M. 74. Help. C.
Eletten, AE. 448. Enlighten. C.
Eke, E. I. 27. Also. C.
Emblaunched, E. I. 36. Whitened. C.
Embodyde, E. I. 33. Thick, stout. C.
[Embollen, AE. 596. as Bollen.]
Embowre, G. 134. Lodge. C.
Emburled, E. II. 54. Armed. C.
Emmate, AE. 34. Lessen, decrease. C.
Emmers, p. 287. 7. [_? coins_. No explanation.]
Emmertleynge, M. 72. Glittering. C.
[Emprize, M. 74. Adventure. C.]
Enalse, G. 159. Embrace. C.
Encaled, AE. 918. Frozen, cold. C.
Enchased, M. 60. Heated, enraged. C.
Engyne, AE. 381. Torture.
Enheedynge, p. 283. 105. [Taking heed, studying.]
Enlowed, AE. 606. Flamed, fired. C.
Enrone, AE. 661. [Evidently Unsheath; no explanation.]
Enseme, AE. 971. To make seams in. q?
Enseeming, AE. 746. as Seeming.
Enshoting, T. 174. Shooting, darting. C.
[Ensooned, H. 2. 497. Probably, In a swoon; not in K.B. or Speght.]
Enstrote, H. 2. 503. [No explanation.] Enswote, AE. 1175. Sweeten. q?
Enswolters, AE. 629. Swallows, sucks in. C.
Ensyrke, p. 25. 10. Encircle.
Ent, E. III. 57. A purse or bag. C.
Entendement, AE. 261. Understanding.
Enthoghteing, AE. 704. [Thinking; cf. Enheedynge.]
Entremed, p. 276. 4. [Intermingled, from Speght’s Entremes, entermingled. (Really entremes means a side-dish.)]
Entrykeynge, AE. 304. as Tricking.
Entyn, P.G. 10. Even. C.
Estande, H. 2. 271. for Ystande; Stand.
Estells, E. II. 16. A corruption of Estoile, Fr. A star. C.
Estroughted, AE. 918. [Stretched out]
Ethe, E. III. 59. Ease. C.
Ethie, p. 280. 49. Easy.
Evalle, E. III. 38. Equal. C.
Evespeckt, T. 56. Marked with evening dew. C.
Ewbrice, AE. 1085. Adultery. C.
Ewbrycious, p. 281. 60. Lascivious.
Eyne-gears, p. 279. 13. [Sk. considers this a compound of eyne, eyes and gear, tackle and renders objects.]
Fage, Ep. 30. Tale, jest. C.
Faifully, T. 147. Faithfully. C.
Faitour, Ch. 66. A beggar, or vagabond. C.
Faldstole, AE. 61. A folding stool, or seat. See Du Cange in v. Faldistorium.
[Fay, H. 2. 144. Faith.]
[Faytour, p. 280. 37. as Faitour.]
Fayre, AE. 1204. 1224. Clear, innocent.
Feere, AE. 965. Fire.
Feerie, E. II. 45. Flaming. C.
Fele, T. 27. Feeble. C. [A Rowleian contraction, cf. gorne for garden.]
Fellen, E. I. 10. Fell pa. t. sing. q?
Fetelie, G. 24. Nobly. C.
Fetive, Ent. 7. as Festive.
Fetivelie, Le. 42. Elegantly. C.
Fetiveness, AE. 400. as Festiveness.
Feygnes, E. III. 78. A corruption of feints. C.
Fhuir, G. 58. Fury. C.
Fie, T. 113. Defy. C.
Flaiten, H. I. 84. [Frightful, from B.’s flaite, to affright, to scare.]
Flanched, H. 2. 242. [Arched, from K.’s flanch, in heraldry, an ordinary made of an arch-line.]
Flemed, T. 56. Frighted. C.
Flemie, p. 278. ult. [Daunted, from B.’s flemed.]
Flizze, G. 197. Fly. C.
Floe, H. 2. 54. Arrow.
Flott, Ch. 33. Fly. C.
[Flotting, H. 2. 42. _? Flying_, cf. flott; or Whistling, from B.’s floting (O.), whistling, piping.]
Foile, E. III. 78. Baffle. C.
Fons, Fonnes, E. II. 14. Devices. C.
Forgard, AE. 565. Lose. C.
Forletten, El. 19. Forsaken. C.
Forloyne, AE. 722. Retreat. C.
Forreying, T. 114. Destroying. C.
Forslagen, AE. 1076. Slain. C.
Forslege, AE. 1106. Slay. C.
Forstraughte, p. 281. 58. Distracted.
Forstraughteyng, G. 34. Distracting. C.
Forswat, Ch. 30. Sun-burnt. C.
Forweltring, AE. 618. Blasting. C.
Forwyned, E. III. 36. Dried. C.
Fremde, AE. 430. Strange. C.
Fremded, AE. 555. Frighted. C.
Freme, AE. 267. [and Fremed, H. 2. 147. Strange,
from K.’s fremd
(O.), strange.]
Fructile, AE. 185. Fruitful.
[Furched, AE. 519. Forked.]
Gaberdine, T. 88. A piece of armour. C.
Gallard, Ch. 39. Frighted. C.
Gare, Ep. 7. Cause. C.
Gastness, AE. 412. Ghastliness.
Gayne, AE 821. To gayne so gayne a pryze. Gayne has probably been repeated by mistake. [More probably C. intended it to mean Worth gaining.]
Geare, AE. 299. Apparel, accoutrement.
Geason, Ent. 7. Rare. C.—G. 120. Extraordinary, strange. C.
Geer, H. 2. 284. as Gier.
Geete, AE. 736. as Gite.
Gemote, G. 94. Assemble. C.
Gemoted, E. II. 8. United, assembled. C.
Gerd, M. 7. Broke, rent. C.
Gies, G. 207. Guides. C.
Gier, H. 1. 527. A turn, or twist.
Gif, E. II. 39. If. C.
Gites, AE. 2. Robes, mantels. C.
Glair, H. 2. 570. [? Glare.]
[Gledes.H. 2. 217. Glides]
Gledeynge, M. 22. Livid. C.
Glomb, G. 175. Frown. C.
Glommed, Ch. 22. Clouded, dejected. C.
Giytted, H. 2. 272. [Glittered.]
Gorne, E. I. 36. Garden. C.
Gottes, AE. 740. Drops.
Gouler, p. 282. 76. [Usurer, from K.’s goule, usury.]
Graiebarbes, Le. 25. Greybeards. C.
Grange, E. I. 34. Liberty of pasture. C.
Gratche, AE. 115. Apparel. C.
Grave, p. 288. 2. Chief magistrate, mayor. [Where does T. find this meaning? B. and K. have grave, a German title signifying a great lord etc., but no word of mayor.]
Gravots, E. I. 24. Groves. C.
Gree, E. I. 44. Grow. C.
Groffile, AE. 547. [Grovelling, from K.’s groff or gruff (O.), groveling.]
Groffish, AE. 257. [Gruffly.]
Groffynglie, Ep. 33. Foolishly. C.
Gron, G. 90. a fen, moor. C.
Gronfer, E. II. 45. A meteor, from gron a fen, and fer, a corruption of fire. C. [? then whether C. does not mean a will o’ the wisp.]
Gronfyres, G. 200. Meteors. C.
Grore, H. 2. 27. [No explanation.]
Groted, AE. 337. Swollen. C.
[Gryne, H. 2. 706. Groin.]
Gule-depeincted, E. II. 13. Red-painted. C.
Gule-steynct, G. 62. Red-stained. C.
[Guylde, G. 152. Tax.]
[Guylteynge, AE. 179. Gilding.]
Glyttelles, AE. 438. Mantels. C.
[Habergeon. H. 2. 346. A little coat of mail (K.).]
Haile, E. III. 60. Happy. C.
Hailie, AE. 148. 410. as Haile.
Halceld, M. 37. Defeated. C.
Hailie, T. 144. Holy. C.
Hailie, AE. 33. Wholely. [But here Hallie would seem to be put for hailie, happy. Sk. renders blissful.]
Halline, Ch. 82. Joy. C.
Hancelled, G. 49. Cut off, destroyed. C.
Han, AE. 734. Hath. q? [One of C.’s fundamental mistakes.]
Hanne, AE. 409. Had. particip. q?—AE. 685. Had. pa. t. sing. q?
Hantoned, AE. 1094. [A mistake for hancelled; hanten
in B.K. and
Speght means use, accustom.]
Harried, M. 82. Tost. C. [But in AE. 209 plainly=_hurried_.]
Hatched, p. 25. I. [Probably C. meant covered with a cloth exhibiting its rider’s coat of arms. Cf. Hatchments.]
[Hatchments, H. 2. 489. In heraldry, a coat of arms. (K.).]
Haveth, E. I. 17. Have. 1st perf. q?
Heafods, E. II. 7. Heads. C.
Heavenwere, G. 146. Heavenward. C.
Hecked, AE. 394. Wrapped closely, covered. C.
Heckled, M. 3. Wrapped. C.
Heie, E. II. 15. They. C.
Heiedeygnes, E. III. 77. A country dance, still
practised in the
North. C.
Hele, n. G. 127. Help. C.
Hele, v. E. III. 16. To help. C.
Hem, T. 24. A contraction of them. C.
[Hendie, H. 1. 95. ? Hand to hand; K. B. and Speght all have neat, fine, genteel, for this Chaucerian word.]
Hente, T. 175. Grasp, hold. C.
Hentyll, AE. 1161. [Evidently Custom; no explanation.]
[Herehaughte, M. 78. Herald.]
Herselle, AE. 279. Herself.
Herste, AE. 1182. [? Command.]
Hilted, Hiltren, T. 47. 65. Hidden. C.
Hiltring, Ch. 13. Hiding. C.
Hoastrie, E. I. 26. Inn, or publick house. C.
[Hocktide, H. 1. 25. A festival celebrated in England antiently in memory of the sudden death of King Hardicanute A.C. 1042 and the downfall of the Danes. B.]
Holtred, AE. 293. [? Hidden, from B.’s hulstred.]
Hommeur, AE. 1190. [? Honour.]
Hondepoint, AE. 273. [Sk. renders (every) moment; K.B. and Speght give no help.]
Hopelen, AE. 399. [Hopelessness—’I from a night of hopelessness am awakened.’]
Horrowe, M. 2. Unseemly, disagreeable. C.
Horse-millanar, Ch. 56. See C.’s note.
[According to Steevens a
Bristol tradesman in 1776 so described himself over
his shop-door.]
Houton, M. 93. Hollow. C.
Hulstred, M. 6. Hidden, secret. C.
Huscarles, AE. 922. 1194. House-servants.
Hyger, AE. 627. The flowing of the tide in the Severn was antiently called the Hygra. Gul. Malmesb. de Pontif. Ang. L. iv. [’The eagre or “bore” of the Severn is a large and swift tide-wave which sometimes flows in from the Atlantic Ocean with great force.’ Sk. II, p. 61, note.]
Hylle-fyre, AE. 682. A beacon.
Hylte, T. 168. Hid, secreted. C.—AE. 1059. Hide. C.
[Hylted, Hyltren, T. 47 .65. Hidden. C.]
Jape, Ch. 74. A short surplice, &c. C.
Jeste, G. 195. Hoisted, raised. C.
Ifrete, G. 2. Devour, destroy. C.
Ihantend, E. I. 40. Accustomed. C.
Jintle, H. 2. 82. for Gentle.
Impestering, E. I. 29. Annoying. C.
Inhild, E. I. 14. Infuse. C.
Ishad, Le. 37. Broken. C.
Jubb, E. III. 72. A bottle. C.
[Iwimpled, H. 2. 528. Muffled (Speght).]
Iwreene, p. 286. 9. [Evidently the same as K.’s bewreen, expressed, shewn.]
Ken, E. II. 6. See, discover, know. C.
Kennes, Ep. 28. Knows. C.
Keppend, Le. 44. [Careful, precise, from B.’s kepen, keep, take care of.]
Kiste, Ch. 25. Coffin. C.
Kivercled, E. III. 63. The hidden or secret part. C.
Knopped, M. 14. Fastened, chained, congealed. C.
[Lack in C. generally = to be in need of rather than simply to be without; cf. G. 176.]
Ladden, H. 1. 206. [Lay.]
Leathel, E. I. 42. Deadly. C.
Lechemanne, AE. 31. Physician.
Leckedst, H. 2. 332. [No explanation.]
Lecturn, Le. 46. Subject. C.
Lecturnies, AE. 109. Lectures. C.
Leden, El. 30. Decreasing. C.
Ledanne, AE. 1143. [? Leaden, heavy; or it
may be an adj. formed from
K.’s leden (O.), languish.]
[Lee, Ep. 6. Lay; or ? lie.]
Leege, G. 173. Homage, obeysance. C.
Leegefolcke, G. 43. Subjects. C.
[Leffed, H. 1. 141. Left.]
Lege, Ep. 3. Law. C.
[Legeful, E. I. 3. Loyal.]
Leggen, M. 92. Lessen, alloy. C.
Leggeude, M. 32. Alloyed. C.
Lemanne, AE. 132. Mistress.
Lemes, AE 42. Lights, rays. C.
Lemed, El. 7. Glistened. C.—AE. 606. Lighted. C.
Lere, AE 568. H. 2. 597. seems to be put for Leather.
Lessel, El. 25. A bush or hedge. C.
Lete, G. 60. Still. C.
Lethal, El. 21. Deadly, or death-boding. C.
Lethlen, AE. 272. Still, dead. C.
Letten, AE. 928. Church-yard. C.
Levynde, El. 18. Blasted. C.
Levynne, M. 104. Lightning. C.
Levyn-mylted, AE. 462. Lightning-melted. q?
Liefe, AE. 217. [? from K. and B.’s lief, rather. Sk. renders at my choice.]
Liff, E. I. 7. Leaf.
Ligheth, AE. 627. [? Lay low, from K.’s lig, lie.]
Likand, H. 2. 177. Liking.
Limed, El. 37. Glassy, reflecting. C.
Limmed, M. 90. Glassy, reflecting. C.
Lissed, T. 97. Bounded. C.
[List, H. 1. 544. ? Pleasure.]
Lithie, Ep. 10. Humble. C.
Loaste, AE. 456. Loss.
[Lode, H. 1. 33. Probably as load, a task or burden. Sk. renders praise, as if land; this is far from convincing.]
Logges, E. I. 55. Cottages. C.
Lordinge, T. 57. Standing on their hind legs. C.
Loverd’s, E. III. 29. Lord’s. C.
Low, G. 50. Flame of fire. C.
Lowes, T. 137. Flames. C.
Lowings, Ch. 35. Flames. C.
[Lurdanes, H. 1. 36. From B.’s ’Lurdane, lordane, a dull heavy fellow, derived by some from Lord and Dane’. So the word becomes for C. an opprobrious equivalent for Dane.]
[Lygheth, AE. 627. Lay, from K.’s lig, to lie.]
[Lymed, E. II. 7. Glassy, reflecting. C.]
Lymmed, M. 33. Polished. C.
Lynch, El. 37. Bank. C.
Lynge, AE. 376. Stay. C.
Lyoncel, E. II. 44. Young lion. C.
Lyped, El. 34. [? miswritten for lithed, Speght’s lith, to make less, so wasted. Sk. renders wasted away, deriving lyped from B.’s liposychy, a small swoon, which seems too far-fetched even for Rowley.]
Lysse, T. 2. Sport, or play. C.
Lyssed, AE 53. Bounded. C.
Mancas, G. 136. Marks. C.
Manchyn, H. 2. 222. A sleeve. Fr.
[Mastie, H. 1. 348. 425. ? Mastiff.]
Maynt, Meynte, E. II. 66. Many, great numbers. C.
Mee, Mees, E. I. 31. Meadow. C.
Meeded, AE 39. Rewarded. [The construction meeded out is probably affected by meted out.]
Memuine, H. 2. 120. [? Body of troops, ? Command. No explanation.]
Meniced, p. 285. 146. Menaced, q? [The sense is threatened to make him marry again.]
Mere, G. 58. Lake. C.
Merk-plante, T. 176. Night-shade. C.
Merke, T. 163. Dark, gloomy. C.
Miesel, AE 551. Myself.
Milkynette, El. 22. A small bagpipe. C.
Mist, Ch. 49. Poor, needy. C.
[Mister, Ch. 82. as Mist, poor, needy.]
Mitches, El. 20. Ruins. C.
Mittee, E. II. 28. Mighty. C.
Mockler, p. 283. 105. More.
Moke, Ep. 5. Much. C.
Mokie, El. 29. Black. C.
[Mokynge, H. 2. 584. K. and B. have moky (O.), cloudy; so perhaps C. meant a brook the surface of which reflected the clouds. Sk. reads mocking.]
Mole, Ch. 4. Soft. C.
Mollock, G. 90. Wet, moist. C.
Morglaien. M. 20. The name of a sword
[Morglay] in some old
Romances.
Morthe, AE 307. [Violent death. K. has morth, murder.]
Morthynge, El. 4. Murdering. C.
Mote, E. I. 22. Might. C.
Motte, H. 2. 184. Word, or motto.
Myckle, Le. 16. Much. C.
Myndbruch, AE. 401. [A hurting of honour and worship (B.).]
Mynster, G. 75. Monastery. C.
Mysterk, M. 33. Mystic. C.
[Nappy, Ba. 13. B. has nappy-ale, [q. d. such as will cause persons to take a nap] pleasant and strong. But the word nappy in this connexion has nothing to do with causing sleep.]
Ne, P.G. 6. Not. C.
Ne, p. 281. 58. Nigh.
Nedere, Ep. II. Adder. C.
Neete, p. 280. 41. Night.
Nesh, T. 16. Weak, tender. C.
Nete, AE. 399. Night.
Nete, T. 19. Nothing. C.
Nilling, Le. 16. Unwilling. C.
Nome-depeinted, E. II. 17. Rebus’d shields; a herald term, when the charge of the shield implies the name of the bearer. C.
Notte-browne, p. 280. 49. Nitt-brown.
Obaie, E. I. 41. Abide. C.
Offrendes, AE. 51. Presents, offerings. C.
Olyphauntes, H. 2. 609. Elephants.
Onknowlachynge, E. II. 26 Not knowing. C. Onlight, AE. 678. [Put out, extinguish.]
Onlist, Le. 46. Boundless. C.
[Ore, H. 2. 25. Contracted for other.]
Orrests, G. 100. Oversets. C.
Ouchd, T. 80. See C.’s note.
Ouphante, AE. 888. 929. Ouphen, Elves.
Ourt, H. 2. 578. [Contraction for B.’s overt.]
Ouzle, AE. 104. Black-bird. C.
Owndes, G. 91. Waves. C.
Pall, Ch. 31. Contraction from appall, to fright. C.
Paramente, AE. 52. Robes of scarlet. C.—M. 36. A princely robe. C.
[Passante, El. 28. Passing, going by. (K.)]
Paves, Pavyes, AE. 433. Shields.
Peede, Ch. 5. Pied. C.
[Peene, AE. 484. Pain.]
Pencte, Ch. 46. Painted. C.
Penne, AE. 728. Mountain.
Percase, Le. 21. Perchance. C.
’Pere, E. I. 41. Appear. C.
Perpled, p. 283. 99. Purple. q? [From B.’s disparpled, disperpled, in heraldry, scattered loosely. T.’s suggestion is certainly wrong.]
Persant, AE. 561. Piereing.
Pete, AE. 1001. [as Pighte.]
Pheeres, AE. 46. Fellows, equals. C.
Pheon, H. 2. 272. in Heraldry, the barbed head of a dart.
Pheryons, p. 285. 147. [’A mistake for pheons.’ Sk.]
Picte, E. III. 91. Picture. C.
Pighte, T. 38. Pitched, or bent down. C.
Poyntel, Le. 44. A pen. C.
Prevyd, AE 23. Hardy, valourous. C.
Proto-slene, H. 2. 38. First-slain.
Prowe, H. 1. 108. [?_Forehead_. No explanation.]
Pynant, Le. 4. Pining, meagre.
Pyghte, M. 73. Settled. C.
Pyghteth, Ep. 15. Plucks, or tortures. C.
[Pyke, Ch. 53. See Shoone-pykes.]
[Pynne, AE. 213. Probably the peg which supported the target; which a clever marksman might split. There is no satisfactory explanation of ’the basket’.]
Quaced, T. 94. Vanquished. C.
Quayntyssed. T. 4. Curiously devised. C.
Quansd, AE. 241. Stilled, Quenched. C.
Queede, AE. 284. 428. The evil one; the Devil.
Receivure, G. 151. Receipt. C.
Recer, H. 1. 87. for Racer.
Recendize, AE. 544. for Recreandice; Cowardice.
Recrandize, AE. 1193. for Recreandice; Cowardice. [Though Sk. renders Recendize resentment.]
Recreand, AE. 508. Coward. C.
Reddour, AE. 30. Violence. C.
Rede, Le. 18. Wisdom. C.
Reded, G. 79. Counselled. C.
Redeyng, AE. 227. Advice.
Regrate, Le. 7. Esteem. C.—M. 70. Esteem, favour. C.
Rele, n. AE. 530. Wave. C.
Reles, v. E. II. 63. Waves. C.
Rennome, T. 28. Honour, glory. C.
Reyne, Reine, E. II. 25. Run. C.
Reyning, E. II. 39. Running. C.
Reytes, AE. 900. Water-flags. C.
Ribaude, Ep. 9. Rake, lewd person. C.
Ribbande-geere, p. 280. 44. Ornaments of ribbands.
Rodded, Ch. 3. Reddened. C.
Rode, E. I. 59. Complexion. C.
Rodeing, AE. 324. Riding.
Roder, AE. 1065. Rider, traveller.
Roghling, T. 69. Rolling. C.
Roin, AE. 325. Ruin.
Roiend, AE. 578. Ruin’d.
Roiner, AE. 325. Ruiner.
Rou, G. 10. Horrid, grim. C.
Rowney, Le. 32. Cart-horse. C.
Rynde, AE. 1192. Ruin’d.
Sabalus, E. I. 22. The Devil. C.
Sabbatanners, AE 275. [Soldiers, from B.’s sabatans, soldiers’ boots; cf. Lat. Caligati.]
[Sarim, H. 1. 301. i.e. Sarum.]
Scalle, AE. 703. Shall. C.
Scante, AE. 1133. Scarce. C.
Scantillie, AE. 1010. Scarcely, sparingly. C.
Scarpes, AE. 52. Scarfs. C.
Seethe, T. 96. Hurt or damage. C.
Scille, E. III. 33. Gather. C.
Scillye, G. 207. Closely. C.
Scolles, AE. 239. Sholes.
Scond, H. 1. 20. for Abscond.
Seck, H. 1. 461. for Suck.
Seeled, Ent. II. Closed. C.
Seere, AE. 1164. Search. C.
Selyness, E. I. 55. Happiness. C.
Semblate, p. 281. 67. [=_Semblance_.]
Seme, E. III. 32. Seed. C.
Semecope, Ch. 87. A short undercloke. C.
Semmlykeed, AE. 298. [as Semlykeene.]
Semlykeene, AE. 9. Countenance. C. C.—G.
56. Beauty, countenance.
C.
Sendaument, p. 284. 126. [Appearance. The word has no authority; B. and K. are silent.]
Sete, AE. 1069. Seat.
Shappe, T. 36. Fate. C.
Shap-scurged, AE. 603. Fate-scourged. C.
Shemring, E. II. 14. Glimmering. C.
Shente, T. 157. Broke, destroyed. C.
Shepen, p. 283. 97. [Simple, from K.’s shepen (O.), simple, fearful.]
Shepstere, E. I. 6. Shepherd. C.
Shoone-pykes, p. 280. 44. Shoes with piked toes. The length of the pikes was restrained to two inches, by 3 Edw. 4. c. 5.
Shrove, H. 2. 432. [It is difficult to discover the probable sense of this word. Perhaps an allusion to an imaginary legend is intended; cf. the reference (H. 2. 417) to Conyan’s goats. Sk. has a note ’Shrove is the Rowleian for shrouded’; this is possible but hardly convincing.]
[Slea, AE. 18. Slay.]
[Sleeve, H. 1. 178. Silk not yet twisted, floss.]
Sletre, AE. 539. Slaughter.
Slughornes, E. II. 9. A musical instrument not
unlike a hautboy.
C.—T. 31. A kind of clarion.
C.
Smethe, T. 101. Smoke. C.
Smething, E. I. 1. Smoking. C.
Smore, H. 1. 412. [? Smeared or Smothered.]
Smothe, Ch. 35. Steam or vapours. C.
Snett, T. 45. Bent. C.
[Sorgie, G. 17. Surging.]
Sothen, AE. 227. Sooth, q?
Souten, H. 1. 252. for Sought. pa. t. sing. q?
Sparre, H. 1. 26. A wooden bar.
Speckle, H. 2. 525. [? Spied, or perhaps Reached.]
Spencer, T. 11. Dispenser. C.
Spere, AE. 69. [Spare, allow.]
Spyryng, AE. 707. Towering.
Staie, H. 1. 198. [B. has Stay, stop, let, hindrance; so possibly C. uses it as a paraphrase for armour; or some special piece of armour may be meant.]
Starks, T. 73. Stalks.
[Steeked, AE. 1188. Not in K. B. or Speght, but Sk. notes that C. has steeked=stole; so here the sense would be stole upon.]
Steeres, p. 25. 6. Stairs.
Stente, T. 134. Stained. C.
Steynced, AE. 189. [?_Stinted_, from B.’s stent (Saxon),_stint_.]
Storthe, p. 287. 10. [Death; cf. Storven.]
Storven, AE. 608. Dead. C.
Straughte, AE. 59. Stretched. C.
[Stre, H. 2. 712. Straw.]
Stret, AE. 158. Stretch. C.
Strev, AE. 358. Strive.
Stringe, G. 10. Strong. C.
Suffycyl, AE. 62. 981. [Sufficient.]
[Swanges, Ch. 210. Swings.]
Swarthe, AE. 265. [A swath, or swarth (so rarely, but cf. Twelfth Night, II. iii, where Maria calls Malvolio ’an affectioned ass, that cons state without book and utters it by great swarths’) is as much hay as the mower can cut at one movement of the scythe. So, an unsubstantial thing compared with a boddekin.]
Swartheing, AE. 295 [Darkling, darkening.]
Swarthless. II. 2. 563. [Dark-less, i.e. pallid.]
Sweft-kervd, E. II. 20. Short-liv’d. C.
Swoltering, AE. 444. [?_Swallowing_.]
[Swote, E. I. 25. Sweet. C.]
Swotie, E. II. 9. Sweet. C.
Swythe, Swythen, Swythyn; Quickly. C.
Syke, E. II. 6. Such, so. C.
Takelle. T. 72. Arrow. C.
[Talbot, H. 2. 89. A kind of hunting dog (K.); a dog with a turned-up tail(B.).]
Teint, H. 1. 462. for Tent. [Bandage.]
Tende, T. 113. Attend, or wait. C.
Tene, AE 366. Sorrow.
Tentyflie, E. III. 48. Carefully. C.
Tere, AE 194. Health. C.
Thoughten, AE 172. 1136. for Thought, pa. t. sing. q?
[Thraslarkes, H. 2. 427. Presumably a kind of lark. K.B. and Speght give no help.]
Thyghte, p. 283. 104. [II. 2. 578. Well-built.]
Thyssen, E. II. 87. These, or those. q?
Tochelod, AE 205. [Perhaps a mistake for Tochered = dowered. (Sk.)]
Tore, AE 1020. Torch. C.
Trechit, H. 2. 93. for Treget; Deceit.
Treynted, AE 454. [? Scatter, from K.’s Betreint (O.), sprinkled.]
Twyghte, E. II. 78. Plucked, pulled. C.
Twytte, E. I. 2. Pluck, or pull. C.
Tynge, Tyngue; Tongue.
Val, T. 138. Helm. C.
Vernage, H. 2. II. Vernaccia Ital. a sort of rich wine.
Ugsomeness, AE. 507. Terror. C.
Ugsomme, E. II. 55. Terribly. C.—AE. 303. Terrible. C.
[Virgyne, Ch. I. The sign of the zodiac, Virgo, which the sun enters about the 21st of August.]
Unaknell’d, H. 1. 288. Without any knell rung for them. q? [unaknelled was Pope’s reading of unancaled in his edition of Hamlet.]
Unburled, AE. 1186. Unarmed. C.
Uncted, M. 30. Anointed. C.
Undelievre, G. 27. Unactive. C.
Unenhantend, AE. 636. Unaccustomed. C.
Unespryte, G. 27. Unspirited. C.
[Uneyned, E. 516. Blinded.]
Unhailie, Ch. 85. Unhappy. C.
Unliart, P.G. 4. Unforgiving. C.
Unlift, E. III. 86. Unbounded. C.
Unlored, Ep. 25. Unlearned. C.
Unlydgefull, AE. 537. [Disloyal.]
Unplayte, G. 86.—Unplyte, AE. 1238. Explain. C.
Unquaced, E. III. 90. Unhurt. C.
[Unryghte. See Note I.]
Unsprytes, AE. 1212. Un-souls. C.
Untentyff, G. 79. Uncareful, neglected. C.
Unthylle, T. 30. Useless. C.
Unwer, E. III. 87. Tempest. C.
Volunde, AE. 73. Memory, understanding. C.—G. 140. Will. C.
Upriste, AE. 928. Risen. C.
Upryne, H. 2. 719. [? Raise up, from B.’s uprist, uprisen, risen up.]
Upswalynge, AE. 258. Swelling. C.
Walsome, H. 2. 92. Wlatsome; loathsome.
Wanhope, G. 34. Despair. C.
Waylde, AE. 11. Choice, selected.
Waylinge, E. II. 68. Decreasing. C. [Wayled (O.), grown old (K.).]
Wayne, E. III. 31. Car. C.
Weere, AE. 835. Grief. C.
Welked, E. III. 50. Withered. C.
Welkyn, AE. 1055. Heaven. C.
[Whaped, H. 2. 579. Amazed, from K.’s Awhaped (O.) amazed.]
Wiseegger, E. III. 8. A philosopher. C. [But used by C. as an adjective.]
Wissen, AE. 685. Wish.
Wite, G. 176. Reward. C.
Withe, E. III. 36. A contraction of Wither. C.
[Wolfynn, T. 51. &c. Wolf. Not in K. B. or Speght.]
Wolsome, Le. 5. See Walsome.
Wraytes. See Reytes.
Wrynn, T. 117. Declare. C.
Wurche, AE. 500. Work. C.
Wychencref, AE. 420. Witchcraft.
Wyere, E. II. 79. Grief, trouble. C.
Wympled, G. 207. Mantled, covered. C.
Wynnynge, AE. 219. [The sense is ’which my father’s hall had no winning,’ i.e. ‘which I could never get in my father’s hall.’ Sk. is almost certainly wrong here.]
Yan, AE. 72. Than.
Yaped, Ep. 30. Laughable. C.
Yatte, T. 9. That. C.
Yblente, AE. 40. Blinded. C.
Ybroched, G. 96. Horned. C.
[Ybrogten, AE. 919. Brought]
Ycorne, AE. 374. [Contracted for ycorven.]
Ycorven, T. 170. To mould. C.
[Ycrase, p. 287. 16. Break.]
Yceasedd, T. 132. Broken. C.
Yenne; Then.
Yer, E. II. 29. Their.
Yer, AE. 152. Your.
Ygrove, H. 2. 434. [? Shaped, for y-graven.]
Yinder, AE. 692. Yonder.
Yis; This.
Ylach’d, H. 2. 436. [? Concealed. B. has Lach, catch or snatch; but this is hardly to the point.]
Ynhyme, Ent. 5. Inter. C.
Ynutile, AE. 198. Useless.
Yreaden, H. 2. 207. [Ready.]
Yroughte, H. 2. 318. for Ywroughte.
Ysped, M. 102. Dispatched. C.
Yspende, T. 179. Consider. C.
Ystorven, E. I. 53. Dead. C.
Ytfel, E. I. 18. Itself.
Ywreen, E. II. 30. Covered. C.
Ywrinde, M. 100. Hid, covered. C.
Yyne, AE. 540. Thine.
Zabalus, AE. 428. as Sabalus; the Devil.
CONTAINING SOME OBSERVATIONS UPON THE LANGUAGE OF
THE POEMS ATTRIBUTED
TO ROWLEY;
TENDING TO PROVE, THAT THEY WERE WRITTEN, NOT BY ANY
ANCIENT AUTHOR,
BUT ENTIRELY BY THOMAS CHATTERTON.
Tum levis haud ultra latebras
jam quaerit imago, Sed sublime volans
nocti se immiscuit atrae.
VIRGIL. AE. X.
APPENDIX, &c.
When these Poems were first printed, it was thought best to leave the question of their authenticity to the determination of the impartial Public. The Editor contented himself with intimating his opinion, [Pref. p. xii, xiii.] that the external evidence on both sides was so defective as to deserve but little attention, and that the final decision of the question must depend upon the internal evidence. To shew that this opinion was not thrown out in order to mislead the enquiries and judgements of the readers, I have here drawn together some observations upon THE LANGUAGE[1] of the poems attributed to Rowley, which, I think, will be sufficient to prove, 1st, that they were not written in the XV Century; and 2dly, that they were written entirely by Thomas Chatterton.
The proof of the second proposition would in effect carry with it that of the first; but, notwithstanding. I choose to treat them separately and to begin with the first.
I shall premise only one postulatum, which is, that Poets of the same age and country use the same language, allowances being made for certain varieties, which may arise from the local situation, the rank in life, the learning, the affectation of the writers, and from the different subjects and forms of their compositions [2].
This being granted, I have nothing to do but to prove, that the language of the poems attributed to Rowley (when every proper allowance has been made) is totally different from that of the other English writers of the XV Century, in many material particulars. It would be too tedious to go through them all; and therefore I shall only take notice of such as can be referred to three general heads; the first consisting of words not used by any other writer; the second, of words used by other writers, but in a different sense; and the third, of words inflected in a manner contrary to grammar and custom.
Under the first head I would recommend the following words to the reader’s consideration.
1. ABESSIE. E. III. 89.
Whylest the congeon
flowrette abessie dyghte.
2. ABORNE. T. 45.
Snett oppe hys
long strunge bowe and sheelde aborne.
3. ABREDYNGE. AE 334.
Agylted AElla,
thie abredynge blynge.
4. ACROOLE. El. 6.
Didde speke acroole,
wythe languishment of eyne.
5. ADAVE. H. 2. 392.
The fynest dame
the Sun or moon adave.
6. ADENTE. AE 396. ADENTED.
G. 32.
Ontoe thie veste
the rodde sonne ys adente.
Adented
prowess to the gite of witte.
7. ADRAMES. Ep. 27.
Loughe loudlie
dynneth from the dolte adrames.
8. ALATCHE. AE 117.
Leave me swythe
or I’lle alatche.
9. ALMER. Ch. 20.
Where from the
hail-stone coulde the almer flie?
10. ALUSTE. H. 1. 88.
That Alured coulde
not hymself aluste.
11. ALYNE. T. 79.
Wythe murther
tyred he flynges hys bowe alyne.
12. ALYSE. Le. 29.—G.
180.
Somme dryblette
share you shoulde to that alyse.
Fulle twentie
mancas I wylle thee alise.
13. ANERE. AE 15.—Ep.
48.
And cann I lyve
to see herr wythe anere?
——Adieu
untylle anere.
14. ANETE. p. 281. 64.
Whych yn the blosom
woulde such sins anete.
15. APPLINGS. E. I. 33.
Mie tendre applynges
and embodyde trees.
16. ARROW-LEDE. H. 1. 74.
Han by his soundynge
arrowe-lede bene sleyne.
17. ASENGLAVE. H. 1. 117.
But Harold’s
asenglave stopp’d it as it flewe.
18. ASLEE. AE 504.
That doest aslee
alonge ynn doled dystresse.
19. ASSWAIE. AE 352.
Botte thos to
leave thee, Birtha, dothe asswaie
Moe torturynge
peynes, &c.
20. ASTENDE. G. 47.
Acheke the mokie
aire and heaven astende.
I stop here, not because the other Letters of the alphabet would not afford a proportionable number of words which might be referred to this head, but because I think these sufficient for my purpose. I proceed therefore to set down an equal number of words under the second general head.
1. ABOUNDE. H. 1. 55.
His cristede beaver dyd him smalle abounde.
The common sense of Abound, a verb, is well known; but what can be the meaning of it here?
2. ALEDGE. G. 5.
Lette notte thie agreme blyn ne aledge stonde.
Aledge, or Alege, v. Fr. in Chaucer signifies to alleviate. It is here used either as an adjective or as an adverb. Chatterton interprets it to mean idly; upon what ground I cannot guess.
3. ALL A BOON. E. III. 41.—p. 23. l. 4.
All-a-boon, fyr Priest, all-a-boon.
Thys ys the onelie all-a-boone
I crave.
Here are three English words, the sense of which, taken separately, is clear. As joined together in this passage they are quite unintelligible.
4. ALLEYN. E. I. 52.
Mie sonne, mie sonne alleyn ystorven ys.
Granting alleyn to be rightly put for alone, no ancient writer, I apprehend, ever used such a phrase as this; any more than we should now say—my son alone for my only son. 5. ASCAUNCE. E. III. 52.
Lokeynge ascaunce upon the naighboure greene.
The usual sense of ascaunce in Chaucer, and other old writers, has been explained in a note on ver. 7327. of the Canterbury Tales. It is used in the same sense by Gascoigne. The more modern adverb ascaunce, signifying sideways, obliquely, is derived from the Italian a schiancio, and I doubt very much whether it had been introduced into the English language in the time of the supposed Rowley.
6. ASTERTE. G. 137.
——You have theyr worthe asterte.
I despair of finding any authorized sense of the word asterte, that will suit this passage. It cannot, I think, signifie neglected or passed by, as Chatterton has rendered it.
7. AUMERE. AE. 398.—Ch. 7. AUMERES. E. III. 25.
Depycte wyth skylled honde upponn thie
wyde aumere.
And eke the grounde was dighte in its
mose deste aumere.
Wythe gelten aumeres stronge ontolde.
The only place in which I remember to have met with this word is in Chaucer’s Romant of the Rose, ver. 2271. and there it undoubtedly signifies a purse; probably from the Fr. Aumoniere. Aumere of silk is Chaucer’s translation of Bourse de foye. In another place of the same poem, ver. 2087. he uses aumener in the same sense. The interpretations given of this word by Chatterton will be considered below.
8. BARBED. AE 27. 219.
Nott, whan from the barbed horse,
&c.
Mie lord fadre’s barbde halle
han ne wynnynge.
Let it be allowed, that barbed horse was a proper expression, in the XV Century, for a horse covered with armour, can any one conceive that barbed hall signified a hall in which armour was hung? or what other sense can barbde have in this passage?
9. BLAKE. AE 178. 407.
Whanne Autumpne blake and sonne-brente
doe appere.
Blake stondeth future doome, and
joie doth mee alyse.
Blake, in old English, may signifie either black, or bleak. Chatterton, in both these passages, renders it naked; and, in the latter, some such signification seems absolutely necessary to make any sense.
10. BODYKIN. AE 265.
And for a bodykin a swarthe obteyne.
Bodekin is used by Chaucer more than once to signifie a bodkin or dagger. I know not that it had any other signification in his time. Swarthe, used as a noun, has no sense that I am acquainted with.
11. BORDEL. E. III. 2.—AE 147. BORDELIER. AE 410.
Goe serche the
logges and bordels of the hynde.
We wylle in a
bordelle lyve.
Hailie the robber
and the bordelyer.
Though bordel, in very old French, signifies a cottage, and bordelier a cottager, Chaucer uses the first word in no other sense than that of brothel or bawdy-house; and bordeller with him means the keeper of such a house. After this usage of these words was so established, it is not easy to believe that any later writer would hazard them in their primitive sense.
12. BYSMARE. M. 95.
Roaringe and rolleyng on yn course bysmare.
Bismare, in Chaucer, signifies abusive speech; nor do I believe that it ever had any other signification.
13. CHAMPYON, V. PG. 12.
Wee better for to doe do champyon anie onne.
I do not believe that champion was used as a verb by any writer much earlier than Shakespeare.
14. CONTAKE. T. 87. CONTEKE. E. II. 10.
——I contake thie
waie.
Conteke the dynnynge ayre and reche
the skies.
Conteke is used by Chaucer, as a noun, for Contention. I know no instance of its being used as a verb.
15. DERNE. AE 582. DERNIE. E. I. 19. El. 8. M. 106.
Whan thou didst boaste soe moche of actyon
derne.
Oh Raufe, comme lyste and hear mie dernie
tale.
O gentle Juga, beare mie dernie
plainte.
He wrythde arounde yn drearie dernie
payne.
Derne is a Saxon adj. signifying secret, private, in which sense it is used more than once by Chaucer, and in no other.
16. DROORIE. Ep. 47.
Botte lette ne wordes, whiche droorie
mote ne heare,
Bee placed in the same ——.
The only sense that I know of druerie is courtship, gallantry, which will not suit with this passage.
17. FONNES. E. II. 14. AE 421. FONS. T. 4.
Decorn wyth fonnes rare ——
On of the fonnis whych the clerche
have made.
Quayntyssed fons depictedd on eche
sheelde.
A fonne in Chaucer signifies a fool, and fonnes—fools; and Spenser uses fon in the same sense; nor do I believe that it ever had any other meaning.
18. KNOPPED. M. 14.
Theyre myghte ys knopped ynne the froste of fere.
Knopped is used by Chaucer to signifie fastened with a button, from knoppe, a button; but what poet, that knew the meaning of his words, would say that any thing was buttoned with frost?
19. LECTURN. Le. 46.
An onlist lecturn and a songe adygne.
I do not see that lecturn can possibly signifie any thing but a reading-desk, in which sense it is used by Chaucer.
20. LITHIE. Ep. 10.
Inne lithie moncke apperes the barronnes pryde.
If there be any such word as this, we should naturally expect it to follow the signification of lithe; soft, limber: which will not suit with this passage.
* * * * *
I go on to the third general head of words inflected contrary to grammar and custom. In a language like ours, in which the inflections are so few and so simple, it is not to be supposed that a writer, even of the lowest class, would commit very frequent offences of this sort. I shall take notice of some, which I think impossible to have fallen from a genuine Rowley.
1. CLEVIS. H. 2. 46.
Fierce as a clevis from a rocke ytorne.
Clevis or cleves is the plural number of Cleve, a cliff. It is so used by Chaucer. I cannot believe that it was ever used as a singular noun.
EYNE. E. II. 79. T. 169. See also AE 681.
In everich eyne aredynge nete of
wyere.
Wythe syke an eyne shee swotelie
hymm dydd view.
Eyne, a contraction of eyen, is the plural number of eye. It is not more probable that an ancient writer should have used the expressions here quoted, than that any one now should say—In every eyes;—With such an eyes.
HEIE. E. II. 15. T. 123. Le. 5. 9. Ent. 2. AE 355.
Heie, the old plural of He, was obsolete, I apprehend, in the time of the supposed Rowley. At least it is very improbable that the same writer, at any time, should use heie and theie indifferently, as in these poems.
THYSSEN. E. II. 87.
Lette thyssen menne, who haveth sprite of love.
I cannot believe that thyssen was ever in use as the plural number of this. The termination seems to have been added, for the sake of the metre, by one who knew that many words formerly ended in en, but was quite ignorant of what particular sorts they were. In the same manner coyen, AE. 125. and sothen, AE. 227. are put for coy and sothe, contrary to all usage or analogy.
And this leads me to the capital blunder, which runs through all these poems, and would alone be sufficient to destroy their credit; I mean, the termination of verbs in the singular number in n[3]. I will set down a number of instances, in which han is used for the present or past time singular of the v. Have; only premising, that han, being an abbreviation of haven, is never used by any ancient writer except in the present time plural and the infinitive mode.
P. 26. v. 9. The Brytish Merlyn oftenne
hanne
The
gyfte of inspyration.
Ba. 2. The featherd songster
chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne.
AE. 685. Echone wylle wyssen hee hanne seene the daie.
734. Bryghte sonne han ynne hys roddie robes byn dyghte.
650. Whanne Englonde han her foemenn.
1137. ——Mie stede han notte mie love.
1184. Hanne alle the
fuirie of mysfortunes wylle
Fallen onne mie benned headde I hanne
been AElla stylle.
G. 20. Hane Englonde thenne a tongue butte notte a stynge?
M. 61. A tye of love a dawter faire she hanne.
H. 1. 74. Ne doubting but
the bravest in the londe
Han by his foundynge arrowe-lede
bene sleyne.
182. Where he by chance han slayne a noble’s son.
184. And in the battel he much goode han done.
188. He of his boddie han kepte watch and ward.
207. His chaunce in warr he ne before han tryde.
281.
The erlie felt de Torcies trecherous knyfe
Han
made his crymson bloude and spirits floe.
319. O Hengist, han thy cause bin good and true!
321.
The erlie was a manne of hie degree.
And
han that daie full manie Normannes sleine.
337. But better han it bin to lett alone.
If more instances should be wanted, see H. 1. 396. 429. 455. H. 2. 306. 703.—p. 275. ver. 4.—p. 281. ver. 63.—p. 288. ver. 1.
In the same irregular manner the following verbs are used singularly.
E. I. 10. Then fellen on the grounde and thus yspoke.
H. 2. 665. Bewopen Alfwoulde fellen on his knee.
P. 287. ver. 17. For thee I gotten or bie wiles or breme.
H. 1. 252. He turned aboute and vilely souten flie.
H. 2. 339. Fallyng he shooken out his smokyng braine.
H. 2. 334. His sprite—Ne shoulden find a place in anie songe.
AE. 172. So Adam thoughtenne when ynn paradyse——
1136. Tys now fulle morne; I thoughten, bie laste nyghte—
Ch. 54. Full well it shewn, he thoughten coste no sinne.
See also H. 2. 366. where thoughten, with the additional syllable, not being quite long enough for the verse, has had another syllable added at the beginning.
Ne onne abash’d enthoughten for to flee.
And (what is still more curious) we have a participle of the present tense formed from this fictitious past time, in AE. 704.
Enthoughteyng for to scape the brondeynge foe—
Which would not have been a bit more intelligible in the XV Century than it would be now. Brondeynge will be taken notice of below.
Many other instances of the most unwarrantable anomalies might be produced under this head; but I think I have said enough to prove, that the language of these poems is totally different from that of the other English writers of the XV Century; and consequently that they were not written in that century; which was my first, proposition. I shall now endeavour to prove, from the same internal evidence of the language, that they were written entirely by Thomas Chatterton.
For this purpose it will only be necessary to have recourse to those interpretations of words by way of Glossary, which were confessedly written by him[4]. It will soon appear, if I am not much mistaken, that the author of the Glossary was the author of the Poems.
Whoever will take the pains to examine these interpretations will find, that they are almost all taken from SKINNER’S Etymologicon Linguae Anglicanae[5]. In many cases, where the words are really ancient, the interpretations are perfectly right; and so far Chatterton can only be considered in the light of a commentator, who avails himself of the best assistances to explane any genuine author. But in many other instances, where the words are either not ancient or not used in their ancient sense, the interpretations are totally unfounded and fantastical; and at the same time the words cannot be altered or amended consistently with any rules of criticism, nor can the interpretations be varied without destroying the sense of the passage. In these cases, I think, there is a just ground for believing, that the words as well as their interpretations came from the hand of Chatterton, especially as they may be proved very often to have taken their rise either from blunders of Skinner himself, or from such mistakes and misapprehensions of his meaning as Chatterton, from haste and ignorance, was very likely to fall into.
I will state first some instances of words and interpretations which have evidently been derived from blunders of Skinner.
ALL A BOON. E. III. 41. See before, p. 315. A manner of asking a favour, says Chatterton.
Now let us hear Skinner.
“=All a bone=, exp. Preces, Supplex Libellus, Supplicatio, vel ut jam loquimur Petitio viro Principi exhibita, ni fallor ab AS. Bene, unde nostrum Boon additis particulis Fr. G. A la. Ch. Fab. Mercatoris fol. 30. p. i. Col. 2.”
The passage of Chaucer which is referred to, as an authority for this word, is the following, Canterb. Tales, ver. 9492.
“And alderfirst he bade them all a bone,” i.e. he made a request to them all. So that Skinner is entirely mistaken in making one phrase of these three words; and it is surely more probable that the author of the poems was misled by him, than that a really ancient writer mould have been guilty of so egregious a blunder.
AUMERES. E. III. 25. is explained by Chatterton to mean Borders of gold and silver, &c. And AUMERE in AE. 398, and Ch. 7. seems to be used in the same sense of a border of a garment. And so Skinner has by mistake explained the word, in that passage of Chaucer which has been mentioned above [See p. 316, where the true meaning of Aumere is given].
“=Aumere= ex contextu videtur Fimbria vel Instita, nescio an a Teut. =Umbher=, Circum, Circa, q. d. Circuitus seu ambitus. Ch. f. 119. p. I.C. I.”
BAWSIN. AE. 57. Large. Chatterton. M. 101. Huge, bulky. Chatterton.
Without pretending to determine the precise meaning of Bawsin, I think I may venture to say that there is no older or better authority for rendering it large, than Skinner. “=Bawsin=, exp. Magnus, Grandis, &c.”
BRONDEOUS. E. II. 24. Furious. Chatterton. BRONDED. H. 2. 558. BRONDEYNGE. AE. 704. BURLIE BRONDE. G. 7. Fury, anger. Chatterton. See also H. 2. 664. All these uses of Bronde, and its supposed derivatives, are taken from Skinner. “Bronde, exp. Furia, &c.” though in another place he explains Burly brand (I believe, rightly) to mean Magnus ensis. It should be observed, that the phrase Burly brand, if used in its true sense, would still have been liable to suspicion, as it does not appear in any work, that I am acquainted with, prior to the Testament of Creseide, a Scottish composition, written many years after the time of the supposed Rowley.
BURLED. M. 20. Armed. Chatterton. So Skinner, “Burled, exp. Armatus, &c.”
BYSMARE. M. 95. Bewildered, curious. Chatterton. BYSMARELIE. Le. 26. Curiously. Chatterton. See also p. 285. ver. 141. BISMARDE.
It is evident, I think, that all these words are originally derived from Skinner, who has very absurdly explained Bismare to mean Curiosity. The true meaning has been stated above, p. 318.
CALKE. G. 25. Cast. Chatterton. CALKED. E. I. 49. Cast out, ejected. Chatterton. This word appears to have been formed upon a misapprehension of the following article in Skinner. “Calked, exp. Cast, credo Cast up.” Chatterton did not attend to the difference between casting out and casting up, i.e. casting up figures in calculation. That the latter was Skinner’s meaning may be collected from his next article. “Calked for Calculated. Ch. the Frankeleynes tale.” It is probable too, I think, that in both articles Skinner refers, by mistake, to a line of the Frankelein’s tale, which in the common editions stands thus:
“Ful subtelly he had calked al this.”
Where calked is a mere misprint for calculed, the reading of the MSS. See the late Edit. ver. 11596.
It would be easy to add many more instances of words, either not ancient or not used in their ancient sense, which repeatedly occur in these poems, and must be construed according to those fanciful significations which Skinner has ascribed to them. How that should have happened, unless either Skinner had read the Poems (which, I presume, nobody can suppose,) or the author of the Poems had read Skinner, I cannot see. It is against all odds, that two men, living at the distance of two hundred years one from the other, should accidentally agree in coining the same words, and in affixing to them exactly the same meaning.
I proceed to state some instances of words and interpretations which are evidently founded upon misapprehensions of passages in Skinner.
ALYSE. Le. 29. G. 180. Allow. Chatterton. See before, p. 314.
Till I meet with this word, in this sense, in some approved author, I shall be of opinion that it has been formed from a mistaken reading of the following article in Skinner. “Alised, Authori Dict. Angl. apud quem folum occurrit, exp. Allowed, ab AS. Alised, &c.” In the Gothic types used by Skinner f might be easily mistaken for a long s.
BESTOIKER. AE. 91. Deceiver. Chatterton. See also AE. 1064.
This word also seems plainly to have originated from a mistake in reading Skinner. “Bestwike, ab AS. Berpican, Spican, Decipere, Fallere, Prodere, Spica, Proditor, Deceptor.” Chatterton in his hurry read this as Bestoike, and formed a noun from it accordingly.
BLAKE. AE. 178. 407. Naked. Chatterton. BLAKIED. E. III. 4. Naked, original. Chatterton. See before, p. 317.
Skinner has the following article. “Blake and bare, videtur ex contextu prorsus Nuda, sort. q. d. Bleak and Bare, dum enim nudi fumus eoque aeri expositi, prae frigore pallescimus. Ch. sol. 184. p. i. Col. i.”
Chatterton has caught hold of Nuda, which in Skinner is the exposition of Bare, as if it belonged to Blake.
HANCELLED. G. 49. Cut off, destroyed. Chatterton. Hancelled from erthe these Normanne hyndes shalle bee.
Skinner has the same word, which he thus explains. “Hanceled, exp. Cut off, credo dici proprie, vel primario faltem, tantum de prima portione feu segmento quod ad tentandam feu explorandam rem abscindimus, ut ubi dicimus, to Hansell a pasty or a gammon of bacon.” Chatterton, who had neither inclination nor perhaps ability to make himself master of so long a piece of Latin, appears to have looked no further than the two English words at the beginning of this explanation; and understanding Cut off to mean Destroyed, he has used Hancelled in the same sense.
SHAP. AE. 34. G. 18. Fate. Chatterton. SHAP-SCURGED. AE. 603. Fate-scourged. Chatterton.
Shap haveth nowe ymade hys woes for to emmate. Stylle mormorynge atte yer shap.——There ys ne house athrow thys shap-scurged isle.
I never was able to conceive how Shap should have been used in the English language to signifie Fate, till I observed the following article in Skinner, “Shap, now is my Shap, nunc mihi Fato praestitutum est (i.e.) now is it shapen to me, ab AS. Sceapan, &c.” I suppose that the word Fato, in the Latin, led Chatterton to understand now is my shap to mean now is my fate.
The passage, to which Skinner refers, is in the Knight’s tale of Chaucer, ver. 1227.
Now is me shape eternally to dwelle
Not only in purgatorie but in helle.
But in the Edit. of 1602, which Skinner appears to have made use of, it is written Now is me shap. The putting of my for me was probably a mistake of the Printer, as Skinner’s explanation shews that he read me. I fancy the generality of readers will be satisfied by the foregoing quotations, that the Author of these poems had not only read Skinner, but has also misapprehended and misapplied what he
It has been proved, that this impostor lived since Skinner, and that the same person wrote the interpretations of words by way of Glossary, which are subjoined to most of the poems.
It has also been proved, that Chatterton wrote those interpretations of words.
Whether any thing further be necessary to prove, that the poems were entirely written by Chatterton, is left to the reader’s judgement. If he should stick at the word entirely, which may possibly seem to carry the conclusion a little beyond the premisses, he is desired to reflect, that, the poems having been proved to be a forgery since the time of Skinner, and to have been written in great part by Chatterton, it is infinitely more probable that the remainder was also written by him than by any other person. The great difficulty is to conceive that a youth, like Chatterton, should ever have formed the plan of such an imposture, and should have executed it with so much perseverance and ingenuity; but if we allow (as I think we must) that he was the author of those pieces to which he subjoined his interpretations, I can see no reason whatever for supposing that he had any assistance in the rest. The internal evidence is strong that they are all from one hand; and external evidence there is none, that I have been able to meet with, which ought to persuade us, that a single line, of verse or prose, purporting to be the work of ROWLEY, existed before the time of CHATTERTON.
[Footnote 1: I have chosen this part of the internal evidence, because the arguments, which it furnishes, are not only very decisive, but also lie within a moderate compass. For the same reason of brevity, I have confined my observations to a part only of this part, viz. to words, considered with respect to their significations and inflexions. A complete examination of this subject in all its parts would be a work of length.]
[Footnote 2: Of these varieties all, except the first, are more properly varieties of style than of language. The local situation of a writer may certainly produce a provincial dialect, which will often differ essentially from the language used at the same time in other parts of the same country. But this can only happen in the case of persons of no education and totally illiterate; and such persons seldom write. It is unnecessary however to discuss this point very accurately, as nobody, I believe, will contend, that the poems attributed to Rowley are written in any provincial dialect. If there should be a few words in them, which are now more common at Bristol than at London, it should be remembered that Chatterton was of Bristol.]
[Footnote 3: It is not surprizing that Chatterton should have been ignorant of a peculiarity of the English language, which appears to have escaped the observation of a professed editor of Chaucer. Mr. Urry has very frequently lengthened verbs in the singular number, by adding n to them, without any authority, I am persuaded, even from the errors of former Editions or MSS. It might seem invidious to point out living writers, of acknowledged learning, who have slipped into the same mistake in their imitations of Chaucer and Spenser.]
[Footnote 4: This is a point so material to the following argument, that, though it has never hitherto, I believe, been made a question, it ought not perhaps to be assumed without some proof. It may be said, that Chatterton was only the transcriber of the Glossary as well as of the Poems. If to such an attention we were to answer, that Chatterton always declared himself the author of the Glossaries, we should be told perhaps, that with equal truth he always declared Rowley to have been the author of the Poems. But (not to insist upon the very different weight, which the same testimony might be allowed to have in the two cases) it has happened luckily, that the Glossary to the Poem, entitled “Englysh Metamorphosis,” [See p. 196.] was written down by Chatterton extemporally, without the assistance of any book, at the desire and in the presence of Mr. Barrett. Whoever will compare that Glossary with the others, will have no doubt of their being all from the same hand.]
[Footnote 5: Printed at London, MDCLXXI. The part, which Chatterton seems to have chiefly consulted, is that, which begins at Sign. U u u u, and is entitled “Etymologicon vocum omnium antiquarum Anglicarum, quae usque a Wilhelmo Victore invaluerunt, &c.”]
[Footnote 6: I will state shortly some of those words, which have been cited above, p. 313. as either not ancient or not used in their ancient sense, with their corresponding articles in Skinner.
ABESSIE; Humility. C.—Abessed;—Humiliatus. Sk.
ABORNE; Burnished, C.—Borne; Burnish. Sk. It was usual with Chatterton to prefix a to words of all sorts, without any regard to custom or propriety. See in the Alphabetical Gloss. Aboune, Abreave, Acome, Aderne, Adygne, Agrame, Agreme, Alest, &c.
ABOUNDE. This word Chatterton has not interpreted, but the context shews that it is used in the sense of good. So that I suspect it was taken from the following article in Skinner. Abone,—a Fr. G. Abonnir; Bonum facere.
ABREDYNGE: Upbraiding. C.—Abrede, exp. Upbraid. Sk.
ACROOL; Faintly. C.—Crool, exp. Murmurare. Sk. See the remark upon ABORNE.
ADENTE, ADENTED: Fastened, annexed. C.—Adent;—Configere, Conjungere. Sk.
ALUSTE has no interpretation: but it is used in the sense of raise. Perhaps it may have been derived from a mistaken reading of Alust, which is explained by Skinner to mean Tollere. See the remarks upon Alyse and Bestoiker, p. 328, 329.
DERNE, DERNIE; Woeful, lamentable, cruel. C.—Derne; Dirus, crudelis. Sk.
DROORIE; Modesty. C.—Drury; Modestia. Sk.
FONS, FONNES; Fancys, Devices. C.—Fonnes; Devises. Sk.
KNOPPED; Fastened, chained, congealed. C.—Knopped; Tied. Sk.
LITHIE: Humble. C.—Lithy; Humble. Sk. But in truth I do not believe that there is any such word. Skinner probably found it in his edition of Chaucer’s Cuckow and Nightingale, ver. 14. where the MSS. have LITHER (wicked), which is undoubtedly the right reading.]