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 alle thee tare. Thou there dysperpellest[69] thie levynne-bronde; Whylest mie soulgh's forwyned, thou art the gare; 415 Sleene ys mie comforte bie thie ferie honde; As somme talle hylle, whann wynds doe shake the ground, Itte kerveth all abroade, bie brasteynge hyltren wounde.

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 for yee bee; On everich breaste yn gorie letteres scarre, Whatt sprytes you have, & howe those sprytes maie dree. And gyf yee gette awaie to Denmarkes shore, Eftesoones we will retourne, & vanquished bee ne moere. 985

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.]



GODDWYN;

A TRAGEDIE.

BY THOMAS ROWLEIE.



PERSONS REPRESENTED.

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] all appere, And flizze[194] alonge the feelde. Power, wythe his heasod[195] straught[196] ynto the skyes, Hys speere a sonne-beame, and his sheelde a starre, Alyche[197] twaie[198] brendeynge[199] gronfyres[200] rolls hys eyes, 200 Chastes[201] with hys yronne feete and soundes to war. She syttes upon a rocke, She bendes before his speere, She ryses from the shocke, Wieldynge her owne yn ayre. 205 Harde as the thonder dothe she drive ytte on, Wytte scillye[202] wympled[203] gies[204] ytte to hys crowne, Hys longe sharpe speere, hys spreddynge sheelde ys gon, He falles, and fallynge rolleth thousandes down. War, goare-faced war, bie envie burld[205], arist[206], 210 Hys feerie heaulme[207] noddynge to the ayre, Tenne bloddie arrowes ynne hys streynynge fyste—

* * * * *

[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.]



ENGLYSH METAMORPHOSIS:

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.]



AN EXCELENTE BALADE

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.]