I from a nete of hopelen am adawed, Difficile ys the pennaunce, yette I'lle strev

Awhaped atte the fetyveness of daie; To keepe mie woe behyltren yn mie breaste.

Ælla, bie nete moe thann hys myndbrucheawed, Albeytte nete maye to mee pleasa unce yev, Is gone, and I moste followe, toe the fraie. Lyche thee, I'lle strev to sette mie mynde atte

Celmonde canne ne'er from anie byker staie. reste.

Dothe warre begynne? there's Celmonde yo the Yett oh! forgeve, yff I have thee dystreste;


[awaie. Love, doughtie love, wylle beare po odher swaie.

Botte whanne the warre ys donne, I'll baste Juste as I was wythe Ælla to be bleste,

The reste from nethe tymes masque must sher Shappe, foullie thos hathe snatched hym awaie.

yttes face. It was a tene too doughtie to be borne,

I see onnombered joies arounde mee ryse; Wydhout an ounde of teares and breaste wythe Blake stondethe future doome, and joie dothe mee syghes ytorne.




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Thie mynde ys now thieselfe; why wylte thou

Weare streighte gloves with aumere

Of dk.
All blanche, al kyngelie, all soe wyse yn mynde, 'The French original stands thus
Alleyne to lett pore wretched Ælla see,
Whatte wondrous bighes he nowe mnste leave

De gans et de bourse de soye,

Et de saincture te cointoye. behynde? O Birtha fayre, warde everyche commynge Skinner, who probably did not think of consulting On everych wynde I wylle a token sende:

the original, supposes aumere to be something be. Onn mie longe shielde ycorne thie name thoul 't longing to gloves, and so at a venture expounded it fynde.

[and friende. fimbria, instita; a fringe or border. It seemed, and Butte here commes Celmonde, wordhie knyghte still seems most probable to me, that aumete of silk

ÆLLA, BIRTHA, CELMONDE speaking. is Chaucer's translation of bourse de soye; and conThie Brystowe knyghtes for thie forth-comynge sequently that aumere was sometimes equivalent lynge [shield dothe slynge.

to a purse. But the dean, if I understand him Echone athwarte hys backe hys longe warre

rightly, differs from us both, and thinks that aumere is a translation of ceinture, a girdle.

ceinture, or girdle," says he, “has escaped the noBirtha, adieu; but yette I cannotte goe.

tice of the learned editor, though, as a principal ornament in ancient dress, it was more likely to be

mentioned by the poet, than the purse.” Which Lyfe of mie spryte, mie gentle Ælla staie.

was more likely to be mentioned by the poet, is Engyne mee notte wyth syke a drierie woe.

not the question, but which is mentioned; and if ÆLLA,

the girdle escaped the notice of Chaucer, I do not I muste, I wylle; tys honnoure cals awaie.

see that I was bound to take any notice of it. In short aumere, upon the face of this passage,

must probably signify, either something belonge O mie agroted harte, braste, braste yon twaie.

ing to gloves, or a purse, or a girdle; and I think 1 Ælla, for honnoure, flyes awaie from mee. might safely trust the intelligent reader with the

determination, in which of these three senses it is

used by Chaucer. But I have also referred to Birtha, adieu ; I maje notte here obaie.

another passage of the same poem R. R. ver. 2057. I'm flyynge from mieselfe yn flying thee, in which he uses aumener in this same sense of a

purse. O Ælla, housband, friend, and loverde, staie.

Then from his aumener he drough He's gon, he's gone, alass! percase he's gone


A little key fetise enough.

The original is
Hope, hallie suster, sweepeynge thro’ the skie,

Adonc de sa bourse il traict
In crowne of goulde, and robe of lillie whyte,

Un petit clef bien fait. Whyche farre abrode ynne gentle ayre doe flie, Where aumener is undoubtedly the translation of Meetynge from dystaunce the enjoyous syghte, bourse. I must observe further, that in what I Albeytte efte thou takest thie bie fiyghte

take to be the most accurate and authentic edition Hecket ynne a myste, and wyth thyne eyne of the French Roman de la Rose, (Paris 1727) these yblente,


two lines are thus written, v. 2028. Nowe commest thou to mee wythe starrie Ontoe thie veste the rodde sonne ys adente;

Lors a de l'armoniere traicte The sommer tyde, the month of Maie appere,

Une petite clef bien faicte. Depycte wythe skylledd honde upponne thie wyde Which, I apprehend, adds no small strength to my aumere

conjecture, that both aumener and aumere are de

rivatives from the French aumoniere. If so, it be 7Qy. Hap?

comes still clearer, that the proper signification 8 Aumere. The word does not occur in any of fof aumere is a purse; a signification which will not our ancient poets, except in Chaucer's Romnaunt of suit any one of the passages, in wbich the word the Rose, v. 2271.

occurs in these poems.-Tyrwhitt.







O honnoure, honnoure, what ys bie thee hanne? Mie sheelde, lyche sommere morie gronfer droke Hailie the robber and the bordelyer,

Mie lethalle speere, alyche a levyn-mylted oke. Who kens ne thee, or ys to thee bestanne, And nothynge does thie myckle gastness fere.

Thie wordes are greate, full hyghe of sound, and Faygne wouide I from mie bosomme alle thee


[rayne. Thou there dysperpellest thie levynne-bronde;

Lyche thonderre, to the whych dothe comme no

Itte lacketh notte a doughtie honde to speke; Whylest mie soulgh's forwyned, thou art the

Thecocke saiethe drefte,ytt armed ys he alleyne, gare;

Certis thie wordes maie, thou motest have say ne Sleene ys mie comforte bie thie ferie honde;

Of mee, and meynte of moe, who eke canne As somme talle hylle, whann wynds doe shake the ground,


fyghte, Itte kerveth all abroade, bie brasteynge hyitren

Who haveth trodden downe the adventayle,

And tore the heaulmes from heades of myckle Hopnoure, whatt bee ytte? tys a shadowes shade, A thynge of wycheneref, an idle dreme;

myghte. On of the fonnis9 whych the clerche have made

Sythence syke myshte ys placed yn thie honde,

Lette blowes thie actyons speeke, and bie thie corMenne wydhoute sprytes, and wommen for to fleme;


rage stonde. Knyghtes, who efte kenne the loude dynne of the Schulde be forgarde to syke enfeeblynge waies,

Thou are a warrioure, Hurra, thatte I kenne, Make everych acte, alyche theyrsoules be breme,

And myckle famed for thie handie dede. And for theyre chyvalrie alleyne have prayse.

Thou fyghtest anente maydens and ne menne, O thou, whatteer thie name,

Nor aie thou makest armed hartes to blede. Or Zabalus or Queed,

Efte, caparyson'd on bloddie stede, Comme, steel mie sable spryte,

Havethe thee seene binethe mee ynn the fyghte, For fremde and dolefulle dede.

Wytbe corses I investynge everyche mede,

And thou aston, and wondrynge at mie myghte. MAGNCS, HURRA, AND HIE PREESTE, WYTH Thanne wouldest thou comme yn for mie reTHE ARMIE neare Watchette.


[dome. MAGNUS.

Albeytte thou wouldst reyne awaje from bloddie Swythe lette the offrendes to the goddes begynne, To knowe of hem the issue of the fyghte.

How! butte bee bourne mie rage. I kenne Putte the blodde-steyned sword and pavyes ynne; aryghte Spreade swyth yn all arounde the hallie lyghte. Bothethee and thyne maie nebee wordhye peene. HIE PREESTE syngeth.

Eitsoones i hope wee scalle engage yn fyyhte; Yee, who hie yn mokie ayre

Thanne to the souldyers all thou wylte bewreene.

I'll prove mie courage onne the burled greene; Deletbe seasonnes foule or fayre.

Tys there alleyne L'ill telle thee whatte I bee. Yee, who, wbanne yee weere a guylte, The mone yn bloddie gyttelles hyite,

Gyf I weelde notte the deadlie sphere adeene,

Thanne lett mie name be fulle as lowe as thee. Moored the starres, and dyd unbynde

Thysmie adented shielde, thys mie warre-speare, Everyche barriere to the wynde; Whanne the oundynge waves dystreste,

Schalle telle the falleynge foe gyf Hurra's harte

can feare. Stroven to be overcst,

Sockeynge yn the spyre-gyrte towne,
Swolterynge wole natyones downe,

Magnus woulde speke, butte thatte lys noble Sendynge dethe on plagues astrodde,


(saie. Moovynge lyke the erthys godde;

Dothe soe enrage, he knowes notte whata to To mee send your heste dyvyne,

He'dde speke yn blowes, yn gottes of blodde he'd Lyghte eletten ail myne eyne,

wryte, Thatt I maie now undevyse

And on thie heafod peyncte hys myghte for aie. All the actyonnes of th' empprize.

Gyfthou anent an wolfynnesrage wouldest staie. fulleth dowone ani este rysethe.

'Tys here to meet ytt; botte gyif nott, bee goe;

Lest Iin furrie shulde mie armes dysplaie, Thus sayethe the goddes; goe, yssue to the playne;

Whych to thie boddie wylle wurche myckle woe. Forr there shall meynte of mytte menne bee slayne.

Oh! I bee madde, dystraughte wyth brendyng MAGNUS.


[asswagc. Whie, soe there evere was, whanne Magnus Ne scas of sinethynge gore wylie mie chated harte foughte.

Efte have I treynted noyance throughethe boaste,
Athorowe swerdes, alyche the queed dystraughte,

I kenne thee, Magnus, welle; a wyghte thou art Have Magnus pressynge wroghte hys foemen

That doest aslee 10 alonge yon doled dystresse, loaste,

Strynge bulle yn boddie, lyoocelle yn harte, As wbanne a tempeste vexe the soare the coaste,

I almost wysche thie prowes were made lesse.

Whan Ælla (name drest uppe yn ugsomness The dyngeynge ounde the sandeie stronde doe Su dyd i inne the warre the javlynne toste, stare,

Tothee and recreandes) thondered on the playne, Full meynte a champyonnes breaste received

Hlowe dydste tbou thorowe fyrste of fleers presse!

Swefter thanne federed takelle dydste thou reyne, mie spear.

9 A word of unknown origin.

10 An unknown word.

A ronnynge pryze onn seyncte daie to ordayne, Uponne mie watche, I spiede an armie como Magnus, and none botte bee, the ronnynge pryze

mynge, wylle gayne.

Notte lyche ann handfulle of a fremded foe, MAGNUS.

Botte blacke wythe armoure, movynge upcome Eternalle plagues devour thie baned tyngue!


(alonge Myrriades of neders pre upponne thie spryte !

Lyche a blacke fulle cloude, thatte dothe gee Maiest thou fele al the peynes of age whylst

To droppe yn hayle, and hele the thonder

Unmanned, uneyned, exclooded aie the lyghte,

Thie senses,lychethieselfe,enwrapped ynnyghte,
A scoff to foemen, and to beastes a pheere!

Ar there meynte of them?
Maie furched levynne onne thie head alyghte,

MESSENGERR. Maie on thee falle the fhuyr of the unweere:

Fen vaipours blaste thie everiche manlie powere, Thycke as the ante-flyes ynne a sommer's none, Maie thie bante boddie quycke the wolsome peenes

Seemynge as tho' theie stynge as persante too. devoure.

(tyngue Faygne woulde I curse thee further, botte mie

HURRA. Denies mie harte the favoure soe toe doe.

Whatte matters thatte? lettes sette oure fart. HURRA.


[pare; Nowe bie the Dacyanne goddes, and Welkyns

Goe, sounde the beme, lette champyons prèkynge,

Ne doubtynge, we wylle stynge as faste as heie. Wythe fhurie, as thou dydste begynne, persue;

Whatte? doest forgard thie blodde? ys ytte for

feare? Calle onne mie heade all tortures that be rou, Bane onne, tylle thie owne tongue thie curses

Wouldest thou gayne the towne, and castlefele.

(ynne blewe,

stere, Sende onne mie heade the blyghteynge lev

And yette ne byker wythe the soldyer guarde? The thonder loude, the swellynge azure rele,

Go, hyde thee yon mie tente annethe the lere; Thje wordes be hie of dynne, botte nete besyde;

I of thie boddie wyll keepe watch and warde. Bane on, good chieftayn, fyghte wythe wordes of

MAGNUS, myckle pryde.

(come. Oure goddes of Denmarke knore mie harte y Botte due notte waste thie breath, lest Ælla

goode. MAGNUS.

HURRA. Alla and thee togyder synke toe Helle!

For nete uppon the erthe, botte to be chougbess Bee youre names blasted from the rolle of

foode. dome! I feere noe Ælla, thatte thou kennest welle,

MAGNUS, HURRA, ARMIE, SECONDE Unlydgefulle traytoure, wylt thou nowe rebelle?

MESSENGERRE. 'Tys knowen, thatte yie menn bee lyncked to myne,


SECONDE MESSENGERRE. Bothe sente, as troopes of wolves, to sletre

As from mie towre I kende the commynge foe, Botte nowe thou lackest hem to be all yyne.

I spied the crossed shielde, and bloddie swerde, Nowe, bie the goddes yatte reule the Dacyanne state,


The furyous Ælla's banner; wythynne kenne

The armje ys. Dysorder throughe oure haaste Speacke thou yn rage once moe, I wyll thee

Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of Ælla's name; HURRA.

Styr, styr, mie lordes ! I pryze thie threattes joste as i doc thie banes,

MAGNUS. The sede of malyce and recendize al.

What? Ælla? and soe neare! 'Thou art a steyne unto the name of Danes;

Thenne Denmarques roiend; oh mie rysynge Thou alleyne to thie tyngue for proofe canst

feare! calle. Thou beest a worme so groffile and so smal,

HURRA, I wythe thie bloude woulde scorne to foul mie What doeste thou mene? thys Ælla's botte a sworde,


manne, Botte wythe thie weaponnes woulde upon thee Nowe bie mie sworde, thou arte a Ferie bere. Alyche thie owne feare, slea thee wythe a worde. Of late I dyd thie creand valoure scanne,

I Hurra amme miesel, and aie wylle bee, Whanne thou dydst boaste so moche of arctoa As greate yn valourous actes, and yn commande

derne, as thee.

Botte I toe warr mie doeynges moste atturne,

To cheere the sabbataneres to deere dede.


I to the knyghtes onne everyche syde wylle Błynne your contekions, chiefs; for, as I stode


Telleynge 'hem alle to make her foemen blede; 1 These nine lines, and the speech of the se- Sythe shame or deathe onne eidher syde sylle cond messenger afterwards, are in blank verse; a

bee, metre first practised in England by Surrey. Mie harte I wylle upryse, and inne the battle slea



wynne or die.

Gyff ynn thys battelle loeke nc wayte oure gare, ÆLLA, CELMONDE, and ARMIE near

To Brystowe dbeie wylle tourne yeyre fhurie Watchette.


[ayre, Brystowe, and alle her joies, wylle synke tve ELLA.

Brendeynge perforce wythe unenhantende fyre, Now havynge done oure mattynes and oure

Thenne lette oure safetie doublit moove oure ire,

Lyche wolfyns, rovynge for the evnyn e pre, VOwe's, Lette us for the intended fyghte be boune,

See [ing] the lambe and shepsterr nere the brire, And everyche champyone potte the joyous

Doth th’one forr safetie, th’one for hongre slea; (browes.

Thanne, whanne the ravenne crokes uponne the Of certane masterschyrpe upon hys glestreynge Oh! lette ytte bee the knelle to myghtie Dacyanus


(slayne. As for mie harte, I owne ytte ys, as ere

Lyche a rodde gronfer, shalle mie anlace sheene, Itte has beene ynne the sommer-sheene of sate,

Lyche a strynge lyoncelle I'lle bee ynne fyghte, Unknowen to the ugsomme gratche of fere;

Lyche fallynge leaves the Dacyannes shall bee Mie blodde embollen, wythe masterie elate,


[myghte. Boyles ynne mie veynes, and rolles ynn rapyd

Lyche [a] loud dynnynge streeme scalle be mie state,

Ye menne, who woulde deserve the name of Impatyente forr to mete the persante stele,


[wepte; And telle the worlde, thatte Ælla dyed as Lette bloidie teares bie all your paves be greate,


To commynge tymes no poyntelle shalle ywrite, As anie knyghte who foughte for Englondes

Whanne Englonde han her foemenn, Brystow Friends, kynne, and soldyerres, ynne blacke ar


scrie, more drere,

Yourselfes, youre chyldren, and youre fellowes Mie actyons ymytate, mie presente redynge here. | Go, fygbte ynn rennomes gare, be brave, and There ys nc house, athrow thys shap-scurged isle,

I saie ne moe; youre spryte the reste wylle saie; Thatte has ve loste a kynne yn these fell fyyhtes,

Youre spryte wylle wrynne, thatte Brystow ys Fatte blodde ha sorfeeted the hongerde soyle,

yer place;


To honoures house I nede notte marcke the And townes enlowed lemed oppe the nyghtes. Inne gute of fyre oure hallie churche dheie

Inne youre owne hartes you maie the foote

[space; dyghtes;

pathe trace.

szore; Oure somes lie storven yone theyre smethynige

'Twexte shappe and us there ys botte lyttelle

The tyme ys nowe to proove yourscies be Oppe bie the rootes oure tree of lyte dheie


(grace, pyghtes,

Drawe forthe the bornyshed hylle wythe fetyve Vexynge oure coaste, as byllowes doe the shore.

Rouze, lyche a wolfynne rouzing from hys Yee menne, gyf ye are menne, displaie yor

denne. naine,

(flame. Y brende yer tropes, alyche the roarynge tempest I'lle potte ytt ne ynn place, tyll ytte ys sycke

Thus I enrone mie anlace; go thou shethc; Ye Chrystyans, doc as worılhie of the name;

wythe deathe. These roynerres of our hallie houses slea; Braste, lyke a cloude, from whence doth come

Onn, Ælla, onn; we longe for bloddie fraie; the fame,

Wee longe to here the raven synge yo vayne; Lyche torrentes, gushynge downe the moun

Onn, Ælla omn; we certys gayne the daie, taines, bee.


Whanne thou doste leade us to the leathal And whanne alonge the grene yer champsons

playne. Swefte as the rodde for-weltrynge levyn-brone,

CELMONDE. Yatte hauntes the flyinge mortherer oere the lea,

Thie speche, Oloverde, fyrethe the whole Soe flie oponne these royners of the londe.


[breathe; Lette those yatte are unto yer battayles fedele,

Theie pancte for war, as honted wolves for Take slepe eterne uponne a feerie lowynge bedde.

Go, and sytte crowned on corses of the slayne;

Go, and ywielde the massie swerde of deathe. Let cowarde Londonne see herre towne on fyre, And strev wythe goulde to staie the royners From thee, O Ælla, alle oure courage reygnes; honde,

[bygher, Echone yn phantasie do lede the Danes ynne Ælla and Brystowe havethe thoughtes thattes

chaynes. Wee fyghte notte forr ourselves, but all the

ALLA. londe. As Severnes hyger lyghethe banckes of sonde, Mie countrymenne, mie friendes, your noble Pressynge ytte downe binethe the reynynge sprytes streine,

[stronde, Speke yn youre eyne, and doe yer master telle. Wythe dreerie dynn enswolters the hyghe Sweste as the rayne-storme toe the erthe Bedrynge the rockes alonge yon fhurye breme, alyghtes,

Soe wylle wee beere the Dacyanne arınie downe, Soe wylle we fall upon these royners felle. And throughe a storme of blodde wyll reache the Oure mowynge swerdes shalle plonge hem cha mpyon crowue.

downe to lielle;



Theyre throngynge corses shall onlyghte the The swelleynge fyre yer corrage doe enflame, starres;

(swelle, Theie lepe ynto the sea, and bobblynge 13 yield yes The barrowes brastynge wythe the sleene schall breathe; Brynnynge to commynge tymes our famous Whylest those thatt bee uponne the bloddie warres ;


(battle slayne, Inne everie eyne I kenne the lowe of myghte, Bee deathe-doomed captyves taene, or yn the Sheenynge abrode, alyche a hylle-fyre ynne the

HURRA. nyghte.

Nowe bie the goddes, Magnus, dyscourteous

knyghte, Whannc poyntelles of oure famous fyghte shall

Bie craveute havyoure havethe don oure woe, saie,

Despendynge all the talle menne yn the fyghte, Echone wylle marvelle atte the dernie dede,

And placeyng valourous menne where dratis Echone wylle wyssen hee hanue'd seene the daie,

mote goe. And bravelie hotped to make the foemenn blede;

Sythence oure fourtunie bavethe tourned soe, Botte for yerholpe our battelle wylle notte nede;

Gader the souldyers lefte to future shappe, Oure force ys force enowe to staie theyre

To somme new place for safetie we wylie goe, honde;

Inne future daie wee wylle have better happe. Wee wylle retourne unto thys grened mede,

Sounde the loude slughorne for a quicke forOer corses of the foemen of the londe.


[joyne. Nowe to the warre lette all the slughornes Lette all the Dacyannes swythe unto oure banner sounde,

(grounde. The Dacyanne troopes appere on yinder rysynge Throwe hamlettes wee wylle sprenge sadde dethe

and dole, Chiefes, heade youre bandes, and leade.

Bathe yn hotte gore, and wasch ourselves thereynne:

[rolle. DANES flyinge, neare Watchette.

Goddes! here the Saxonnes lyche a byllowe

I heere the anlacis detested dynne.

Awaie, awaie, ye Danes, to yonder penne; Fly, fly, ye Danes; Magnus, the chiefe, ys

Wee now wylle make forloyne yn tyme to fyghte sleene;


agenne. The Saxonnes come wythe Ælla atte theyre Lette's strev to gette awaie to yinder greene;

CELMONDE, near Watchette. Flie, flie; thys ys the kyngdomme of the deadde.

O forr a spryte al feere! to telle the daie,

The daie whyche scal astounde the herers rede, O goddes! have thousandes bie mie anlace Makeynge oure foemennes envyynge hartes to bledde,

blede, And muste I nowe for safetie fie awaie ?

Ybereynge thro the worlde oure rennomde game

for aie. See! farre besprenged alle oure troopes are spreade,

Bryghte Sonne ban ynn hys roddie robes bya Yette / wylle synglie dare the bloddie fraie.


[trayne, Butte ne; I'lle flie, and morther yn retrete; From the rodde easte he flytted wythe hys Deathe, blodde, and fyre, scalle mark the goeynge The howers 14 drewe awaje the geete of nyghte, of my feete.

Her sable tapistrie was rente yn twayne.

'The dauncynge streaks bedecked bearennes Enthoghteynge forr to scape the broudeynge

playne, foe,

And on the dewe dyd smyle wythe shemrynge As nere wito the byllowd beche I came,

Lyche gottes of blodde whyche doe blacke arFarr offe 1 spied a syghite of myckle woe,

moure steyne, Oure spyrynge battayles wrapte ynn sayles of

Sheenynge upon the borne whyche stondeth bie; flame,

The souldyers stood uponne the hillis syde, The builed Dacyannes, who were ynne the same, Lyche yonge enlefed trees wbyche yn a forreste Fro syde to syde fledde the pursuyte of deathe;


Ælla rose lyche the tree besette wythe brieres; 13 The capital blunder which runs through all Hys talle speere shcenynge as the starres at these poems, and would alone be sufficient to de

nyghte, stroy their credit, is the termination of verbs in Hys eyne ensemeynge as a lowe of fyre; the singular number in n; han is in twenty-six Whapne he encheered everie manne to fyghte, instances used in these poems, for the present or past time singular of the verb have. But han, be- 13 Then plunged into the stream with deep despair, ing an abbreviation of haven, is never used by any And her last sighs came bubbling up in air. ancient writer except in the present time plural,

Dryden's Virgil. and the infinitive mood.-Tyrwbitt.

14 Heaven's gates spontaneous open to the powers, In opposition to this conclusive remark Anony- Heaven's golden gates, kept by the winged Hours: mus produced twelve passages, of which only one Commissioned in alternate watch they stand, is in the least to his purpose.

“ Ich han bitten The Sun's bright portals and the skies con mand, this wax'-an old rhyme of nobody knows whom. Close or unfold the eternal gates of day, Mr. Bryant and the dean of Exeter have both Bar Heaven with clouds,or roll those clouds away. failed in attempting to answer the objection.

Pope's Homer.


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