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Hys mightie anlace mightie menne dyd slea; Where he dydde comme, the flemed foe dydde


The soldyerres followed wythe a myghtie crie, Cryes, yafte welle myghte the stoute te hates affraie. [annes flie; Swefte, as yer shyppes, the vanquyshed Dacy Swefte, as the rayne uponne an Aprylle daie, Pressynge behynde, the Englysche soldyerres slaie. [mayne; Botte halfe the tythes of Danyshe menue ́reAlla commaundes 'heie shoulde the slectre [playne. staie,

Botte bynde 'hem prysonners on the bloddie The fychtynge beynge done, I came awaie, In odher fieldes to fyghte a moe unequalle fraie. Mie servant squyre!

Or felle benethe hys honde, as fallynge rayne, Wythe sythe afhuyrie hedydde onn 'hemm dree, Hylles of yer bowkes dyd ryse opponne the playne; [nee; Ella, thou arte-botte staie, my tynge; saie Howe greate I hymme maye make, stylle greater hee wylle bee.

Nor dydde hys souldyerres see hys actes yn
Heere a stoute Dane uponne hys compheere
Heere lorde and hyndlette sonke uponne the

Heere sonne and fadre trembled ynto helle.
Chief Magnus sought hys waie, and, shame to
Hee soughte hys waie for flyghte; botte Eila's
Uponne the flyynge Dacyannes schoulder felle,
Quyte throwe hys boddie, and hys harte ytte

He groned, and 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 and wondrous myghte ys fledde;

Alla, a javelynne grypped yn eyther honde, Flyes to the thronge, and doomes two Dacyannes deadde.

After hys acte, the armie all vspedde; Fromm eve rich on unmyssynge javlynnes flewe; Theie straughite yer doughtie swerdes; the foe[slewe; menn bledde; Fulle three of foure of myghtie Danes dheie The Dones, wythe terroure rulynge att their head, [ravenne fledde. Three downe theyr bannere talle, and lyche a


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CELMONDE. [Solus.]

Ella ys woundedd sore, and ynne the toune He waytethe, tylle hys woundes be broghte to ethe. [croune, And shalle I from hys browes plocke off the 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 [breathe; To gayne so gayne a pryze wythe losse of Botte thanne rennome æterne-ytte ys botte [there. ayre; Bredde ynne the phantasie, and alleyn lyvynge

Albeytte everyche thynge yn lyfe conspyre To telle me of the faulte I now schulde doe, Yette woulde I batteutlie assuage mie fyre, And the same menes, as I scall nowe, pursue. The qualytyes I fro mie parentes drewe, Were blodde, and morther, masterie, and warre; Thie I wylle holde to nowe, and hede ne moe A wounde yn rennome, yanne a boddie scarre. Nowe, Ella, nowe Ime plantynge of a thorne, Bie whyche thie peace, thic love, and glorie shalle be torne.




Gentle Egwina, do notte preche me joie;
I cannotte joie ynne anie thynge botte weere,


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CELMONDE, Servitoure.


Go telle to Birtha strayte, a straungerr waytethe here.



Celmonde ! yee seynctes! I hope thou haste goode newes.


The hope ys loste; for heavie newes prepare.


Is Ella welle?


Hee lyves; and stylle maie use The behylte blessynges of a future yeare.


Whatte heavie tydynge thenne have I to feare? Of whatte mischaunce dydste thou so latelie saie?


For heavie tydynges swythyn nowe prepare. Ella sore wounded ys, yn bykerous fraie; In Wedecester's wallid toune he lyes.


O mie agroted breast!


Wythoute your syghte, he dyes.


Wylle Birtha's presence ethe herr Ælla's payne? I flie; new wynges doe from mie schoulderrs sprynge.


Mie stede wydhoute wylle deftelie beere us twayne.


Oh! I wyll flie as wynde, and no waie lynge: Sweftlie caparisons for rydynge brynge; I have a mynde wynged wythe the levyn ploome. O Ælla, Ælla! dydste thou kenne the stynge, The whyche doeth canker ynne mie hartys roome, [bee; Thou wouldste see playne thieselfe the gare to A ryse, uponne thie love, and flie to meeten me.

Erthe wythe the ayre enchafed dyd contende, Everychone breathe of wynde wythe plagues dyd slee,

Yette I to Ælla's eyne eftsoones woulde flee; 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 Ælla owte; brave Celmonde, leade the waie.


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 Ella I wylle gev you conducte goode. Youre eyne, alyche a baulme, wylle staunche hys bloode, [alle cheere; Holpe oppe hys woundes, and yev hys harte Uponne your eyne he holdes hys lyvely hode; You doe hys spryte, and alle hys pleasaunce bere.

Comme, lette's awaie, albeytte ytte ys moke, Yette love wille be a tore to tourne to feere nyghtes smoke.


Albeytte unwears dyd the welkynn rende, Reyne alyche fallynge ryvers, dyd ferse bee,

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The battelle loste, a battelle was yndede; Note queedes hemselfes culde stonde so harde a fraie;

Oure verie armoure, and oure heaulmes dyd blede, [fledde awaie, The Dacyannes sprytes, lyche dewe dropes, Ytte was an Ælla dyd commaunde the daie; Ynn spyte of foemanne, I moste saie hys myghte; [paie, Botte we ynn hynd-lettes blodde the loss will Brynnynge, thatte we knowe howe to wynne yn fyghte; [destroie;Wee wylle, lyke wylfes enloosed from chaynes, Oure armoures-wynter nyghte shotte oute the daie of joie.

Whene swefte-fote tyme doe rolle the daie alonge, [brende; Somme hamlette scalle onto oure fhuyrie Brastynge alyche a rocke, or mountayne stronge, The talle chyrche-spyre upon the grene shalle bende; [rende, Wee wylle the walles, and auntyante tourrettes Pete everych tree whych goldyn fruyte doe beere, Downe to the goddes the ownerrs dhereof sende, Besprengynge alle abrode sadde warre and bloddie


Botte fyrste to yynder oke-tree wee wylle flie; And thence wyll yssue owte onne all yatte com

meth bie.



Thys merkness doe affraie mie wommanns breaste.

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I wretched bee, beyonde the hele of fate, Gyff Birtha stylle wylle make mie harte-veynes blethe.

Softe as the sommer flowreets, Birtha, looke, Fulle ylle I canne thie frownes and harde dyspla saunce brooke.


Thie love ys foule; I woulde bee deafe for aie, Radher thanne heere syche deslavatie sedde. Swythynne flie from mee, and ne further sale; Radher thanne heare thie love, I woulde bee dead. [beride,

Yee seynctes; and shal I wronge mie Ella's And wouldst thou, Ceimonde, tempte me to the thynge?

Iette 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 and her starres wyll take a maydens parte.

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Robbe hym of whatte percase he holdith deere? Or scalle we menne of mennys sprytes appere, Doeynge hym favoure for bys 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.



Bee stylle.

Botte yette he ys a foemanne goode and fayre;
Whanne wee are spente, he soundethe the for-

The captyves chayne he tosseth ynne the ayre,
Cheered the wounded bothe wythe bredde and
Has hee notte untoe somme of you bynn
You woulde have smethd onne Wedecestrian
Botte hee behylte the slughorne for to cleyne,
Throwynge onne hys wyde backe, hys wyder
spreddynge shielde.

Whanne you, as caytysned, yn fielde dyd bee, He oathed you to be stylle, and strayte didd sette you free.

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Scalle wee forslege hys wyfe, because he's brave?

Bicaus hee fyghteth for hys countryes gare?
Wylle hee, who havith bynne yis Alla's slave,


The mornynge 'gyns alonge the easte to sheene;
Darklinge the lyghte doe onne the waters plaie;
The feynte rodde leme slowe creepeth oere the

Toe chase the merkynds of nyghte awaie;
Swifte flies the howers thatte wylle brynge oute
the daie;

The softe dewe falleth onne the greeynge grasse;
The shepster mayden, dyghtynge her arraie,
Scante sees her vysage yn the wavie glasse;
Bie the fulle daylieghte wee scalle Ælla see,
Or Brystowes wallyd towne; damoyselle, followe


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