And made hym in his tatter'd barks to flie,
'Till Tynyan's dethe and opportunity.

To make it more renomed than before,
I, tho a Saxon, yet the truthe will telle)
The Saxonnes steynd the place wyth Brittish gore,
Where nete but bloud of sacrifices felle.
Tho' Chrystians stylle they thoghite mouche of
the pile,

And here theie mett when causes dyd it neede;
'Twas here the auncient elders of the isle
Dyd by the trecherie of Hengist bleede;

O Hengist han thie cause bin good and true, Thou wouldst such murdrous acts as these eschew.

The erlie was a manne of hie degree,
And han that daie full manie Normannes sleine;
Three Norman champyons of hie degree
He lefte to smoke upon the bloudie pleine:
The sier Fitzbotevilleine did then advance,
And with his bowe he smote the erlies hede;
Who eftsoons gored hym with his tylting launce,
And at his horses feet he tumbled dede:

His partyng spirit hovered o'er the floude
Of soddayne roushynge mouche lov'd pourple
bloude.

De Viponte then, a squier of low degree,
An arrowe drewe with all his myghte ameine;
The arrowe graz'd upon the erlies knee,
A punie wounde, that causd but littel peine.
So have I seene a dolthead place a stone,
Eathoghte to staie a driving rivers course;
But better ban it bin to lett alone,
It onlie drives it on with mickle force;

The erlie, wounded by so base a hynde,
Rays'd furyous doyngs in his noble mynde.
The siere Chatillion, yonger of that name,
Advaunced next before the erlie's syghte;
His fader was a manne of mickle fame,
And be renomde and valorous in fyghte;
Chatillion his trustie swerd forth drewe,
The erle drawes his, menne both of mickle myghte;
And at eche other vengouslie they flew,
As mastie dogs at Hocktide set to fyghte;
Bothe scornd to yeelde, and bothe abbor'de to
flie,

Resolv'd to vanquishe, or resolv'd to die.

Chatillion byt the erlie on the hode,
That splytte eftsoons his cristed helm in twayne;
Whiche be perforce withe target covered,
And to the battel went with myghte ameine.
The erlie hytte Chatillion thilke a blowe
Upon his breste, his harte was plein to see;
He tumbled at the horses feet alsoe,
And in dethe panges he secz'd the recer's knee:
Faste as the ivy rounde the oke doth clymbe,
So faste he dying gryp'd the racer's7lymbe.

The recer then beganne to flynge and kicke,
And toste the erlie farr off to the grounde;
The erlie's squire then a swerde did sticke
Into hys harte, a dedlie ghastlie wounde;
And downe he felle upon the crymson pleine,
Upon Chatillion's soulless corse of claie;

7 This is a modern word. Dean Milles justifies it from the antiquity and universality of horse

races.

A puddlie streme of blonde flow'd out ameine,
Stretch'd out at length besmer'd with gore he laie;
As some tall oke feil'd from the greenie plaine,
To live a second time upon the main.

The erhie nowe an horse and bever han,
And nowe agayne appered on the feeld;
Aud many a mickle knyghte and mightie manne
To his dethe-doyng swerd his life did yeeld;
When siere de Broque an arrowe longe lett flie,
Intending Herewaldus to have sleyne;

It miss'd; butt hytte Edardus on the eye,
And at his pole came out with horrid payne.
Edardus felle upon the bloudie grounde,
His noblesoule came roushyng from the wounde.
Thys Herewald perceevd, and full of ire
He on the siere de Broque with furie came;
Quod he, thou'st slaughtred my beloved squier.
But I will be revenged for the same.
Into his bowels then his launce he thruste.
And drew thereout a steemie drerie lode;
Quod he, these offals are for ever curst,
Shall serve the coughs, and rooks, and dawes for
Then on the pleine the steemie lode hee throwde,
Smokynge wyth lyfe, and dy'd with crymson

bloude.

[foode.

The erle with one honde grasp'd the recer's mayne,
And with the other he his launce besped;
And then felle bleedyng on the bloudie plaine.
His launce it hytt Fitz Broque upon the hede;
Upon his hede it made a wounde full slyghte,
But peere'd his shoulder, ghastlie wounde inferne,
Before his optics daunced a shade of nyghte,
Whyche soone were closed ynn a sleepe eterne,
The noble erlie than, withote a grone,

Took flyghte, to fynde the regyons unknowne.
Brave Alured from binethe his noble horse
Was gotten on his leggs, with bloude all smore;
And nowe eletten on another horse,

Eftsoons he withe his launce did manie gore. The cowart Norman knyghtes before hym tledde, And from a distaunce sent their arrowes keene; But no such destinie awaits his hedde,,

As to be sleyen by a wighte so meene.

Tho oft the oke falls by the villen's shock,
Tys moe than hyndes can do, to move the rock.

Upon Du Chatelet he ferselie sett,
And peere'd his bodie with a force full grete;
The asenglave of his tylt-launce was wett,
The rollynge bloude alonge the launce did fleet.
Advauncynge, as a mastic at a bull,
He rann his launce into Fitz Warren's harte;
From Partaies bowe, a wight unmercifull,
Within his own he felt a cruel darte;

Close by the Norman champyons he han sleine,
He fell; and mixd his bloude with theirs upon
the pleine.

Erle Ethelbert then hove, and with clinie juste,
A launce, that stroke Partaie upon the thighe,
And pinn'd him downe unto the gorie duste;
Cruel, quod he, thou cruellie shalt die.
With that his launce he enterd at his throte;
He scritch'd and screem'd in melancholie mood;
And at his backe eftsoons came out, God wote,
And after it a crymson streme of bloude:

In agonie and peine he there did lie,
While life and dethe strove for masterrie.

He gryped hard the bloudie murdring launce,
And in a grone he left this mortel lyfe.
Behynde the erlie Fiscampe did advaunce,
Bethoghte to kill him with a stabbynge knife;
But Egward, who perceevd his fowle intent,
Eftsoons his trustie swerde he forthwyth drewe,
And thilke a cruel blowe to Fiscampe sent,
That soule and boddie's bloude at one gate flewe.
Thilk deeds do all deserve, whose deeds so fowle
Will black theire earthlie name, if not their
soule.

When lo! an arrowe from Walleris honde,
Winged with fate and dethe daunced alonge;
And slewe the noble flower of Powyslonde,
Howel ap Jevah, who yclepd the stronge.
Whan he the first mischaunce received han,
With horsemans haste he from the armie rodde;
And did repaire unto the cunnynge manne,
Who sange a charme, that dyd it mickle goode;
Then praid seyncte Cuthbert, and our holie
dame,

To blesse his labour, and to heal the same.

Then drewe the arrowe, and the wounde did seck,
And putt the teint of holic herbies on;
And putt a rowe of bloude-stones round his neck;
And then did say; go, champyon, get agone.
And now was comynge Harrolde to defend,
And metten by Walleris cruel darte;
His sheelde of wolf-skinn did him not attend,
The arrow peerced into his noble harte;

As some tall oke, hewn from the mountayne hed,
Falls to the pleine; so fell the warriour dede.

His countryman, brave Mervyn ap Teudor,
Who love of hym han from his country gone,
When be perceevd his friend lie in his gore,
As furious as a mountayn wolf he ranne. [bryghte,
As ouphant faieries, whan the Moone sheenes
In littel circles daunce upon the greene,
All living creatures flie far from their syghte,
Ne by the race of destinie be seen;

For what he be that ouphant faieries stryke,
Their soules will wander to kyng Offa's dyke 8.

So from the face of Mervyn Tewdor brave
The Normans eftsoons fled awaie aghaste;
And lefte behynde their bowe and asenglave,
For fear of hym, in thilk a cowart haste.
His garb sufficient were to meve affryghte;
A wolf skin girded round hys myddle was;
A bear skin, from Norwegians wan in fyghte,
Was tytend round his shoulder by the claws:
So Hercules, 'tis sunge 9 much like to him,
Upon his shoulder wore a lyon's skin.

8 This couplet has occurred before, line 229 of this poem.

9 And then about his shoulders broad he threw A hoary hide of some wild beast, whom he VOL. XV.

His swerde was shorte, and broade, and myckle
keene,
[waie;
And no mann's bone could stonde to stoppe itts
The Normann's harte in partes two cutt cleane,
He clos'd his eyne, and clos'd his eyne for aie.
Then with his swerde he sett on Fitz du Valle,
A kuyghte mouch famous for to runne at tylte;
With thilk a furie on hym he dyd falle,
Into his neck he ran the swerde and hylte;

As myghtie lyghtenynge often has been founde,
To dryve an oke into unfallow'd grounde.
Aud with the swerde, that in his neck yet stoke,
The Norman fell unto the bloudie grounde;
And with the fall ap Tewdore's swerde he broke,
And bloude afreshe came trickling from the
wounde.

As whan the hyndes, before a mountayne wolfe,
Flie from his paws, and angrie vysage grym;
But when he falls into the pittie golphe,
They dare hym to his bearde, and battone hym;
And cause he fryghted them so muche before,
Lyke cowart hyndes, they battone hym the more.

So, whan they sawe ap Tewdore was bereft
Of his keen swerde, thatt wroghte thilke great dis-
They turned about, eftsoons upon hym lept, [maie,
And full a score engaged in the fraie.
Mervyn ap Tewdore, ragyng as a bear,
Seiz'd on the beaver of the sier de Laque;
And wring'd his hedde with such a vehement gier,
His visage was turned round unto his backe.

Backe to his harte retyr'd the useless gore,
And felle upon the pleine to rise no more.

Then on the mightie siere Fitz Pierce he flew,
And broke his helm and seiz'd hym bie the throte:
Then manie Normann knyghtes their arrowes drew,
That enter'd into Merven's harte, God wote.
In dying pangs he gryp'd his throte more stronge,
And from their sockets started out his eyes;
And from his mouthe came out his blamelesstonge:
And bothe in peyne and anguishe eftsoon dies.

As some rude rocke torne from his bed of claie, Stretch'd onn the pleyne the brave ap Tewdore laie.

And now erle Ethelbert and Egward came
Brave Mervyn from the Normannes to assist;
A myghtie siere, Fitz Chatulet bie name,
An arrowe drew that dyd them littel list.

In salvage forrest by adventure slew,
And reft the spoil his ornament to be;

Which spreading all his back with dreadfull
Made all that him so horrible did see [view,
Think him Alcides in a lion's skin,
When the Nemean conquest he did win.
Spenser. Muispotmas.

FF

Erle Egward points his launce at Chatulet,
And Ethelbert at Walleris set his;
And Feward dvd the siere a hard blowe hytt,
But Fthelbert by a mischaunce dyd miss:

Fear laide Walleris flatt upon the strande,
He ne deserved a death from erlies hande.
Betwyxt the ribbes of sire Fitz Chatelet
The boyuted launce of Egward dyd ypass:
The distaunt syde thereof was ruddie wet,
And he fell breathless on the blondie grass.
As cowart Walleris laie on the grounde,
The dreaded weapon hummed oer his heade,
And hytt the squier thilke a lethal wounde,
Upon his fallen lorde he tumbled dead:

Oh shame to Norman armes! A lord a slave,
A captyve villeyn than a lorde more brave!

From Chatelet hys launce erle Egward drew,
And bit Wallerie on the dexter cheek;
Peerc'd to his braine, and cut his tongue in two:
There, knyghte, quod he, let that thy actions
speak-

(No. 2.)

On Truth! immortal daughter of the skies,
Too lyttle known to wryters of these daies,
Teach me, fayre saincte! thy passynge worthe

to pryze,

To blame a friend and give a foeman prayse. The fickle Moone, bedeckt wythe sylver rays, Leadynge a traine of starres of feeble lyghte,. With look adigne the worlde belowe surveies, The world, that wotted not it coud be nyghte; Wyth armour dyd, with human gore ydeyd, Shee sees kynge Harolde stande, fayre Englands curse and pryde.

With ale and vernage drunk his souldiers lay; Here was an hynde, anie an erlie spredde; Sad keepynge of their leaders natal daie! This even in drinke, toomorrow with the dead! Thro' everie troope disorder reer'd her hedde; Dancynge and heideignes was the onlie theme; Sad dome was theires, wholefte this easie bedde, And wak'd in torments from so sweet a dream. Duke Williams meune of comeing dethe afraide, All nyghte to the great Godde for succour askd and praied'.

Thus Harolde to his wites that stoode arounde; "Goe! Gyrthe and Eilward, take bills half a [bound;

score:

And search how farre oure foeman's campe dothe Yourself have rede; I nede to saie ne more. My brother best belov'd of anie ore, My Leofwinus, go to everich wite, Tell them to raunge the battle to the grore, And waiten tyll I sende the hest for fyghte." He saide; the loicaul broders lefte the place, Success and cheerfulness depicted on ech face. Slowelie brave Gyrthe and Eilward dyd ad

vaunce,

And markd wyth care the armies dystant syde,

The Englishmen spent the whole night in drinking, singing and dauncing, not sleeping one winke: on the other side the Normans gave themselves to acknowledging their sinnes, and to prayer all the night, and in the morning they communicated the Lord's body.-Stowe.

And vengynge Normannes staid the flyinge floe. The sire wente onne; Ye menne, what mean ye so

Thus unprovokd to courte a bloudie fyghte?" Quod Gyrthe; Oure meanynge we ne care to showe,

Nor dread thy duke wyth all his men of myghte; Here single onlie these to all thie crewe Shall shewe what Englysh handes and heartes can doe.

Seek not for bloude, Tancarville calme re plyd, [traught;

Nor joie in dethe, lyke madmen most disIn peace and mercy is a Chrystians pryde: He that dothe contestes pryze is in a faulte. And now the news was to duke William brought,

That men of Haroldes armie taken were; For theyre good cheere all caties were en thoughte, [cheere1 And Gyrthe and Eilwardus enjoi'd goode Quod Willyam; Thus shall Willyam be founde A friend to everie manne that treads on Eng lysh ground.

Erle Leofwinus throwghe the campe ypass'd, And sawe bothe men and erlies on the grounde;

In Turgott's tyme Holenwell braste of erthe so fierce that it threw a stonemell carrying the same awaie. J. Lydgate ne knowynge this left out o line.

3 He sent out before them that should spye, and view the number and force of the enemies, which when they were perceived to be among the dukes tents, duke William caused them to be led about the tents, and then made them good cheere, commanding them to be sent home to their lord safe without harme.-Stowe.

They slepte, as thoughe they would have

slepte theyr last,

rage;

And hadd alreadie felte theyr fatale wounde. He started backe, and was wyth shame astownd; Loked wanne wyth anger, and he shooke wyth [dyd sound, When through the hollow tentes these wordes Rowse from your sleepe, detratours of the age! Was it for thys the stoute Norwegian bledde? Awake, ye huscarles, now, or waken wyth the dead.

As when the shepster in the shadie bowre
In jintle slumbers chase the heat of daie,
Hears doublyng echoe wind the wolfins rore,
That neare bys flocke is watchynge for a praie,
He tremblynge for his sheep drives dreeme awaie,
Gripes faste hys burled croke, and sore adradde
Wyth fleeting strides he hastens to the fraie,
And rage and prowess fyres the coistrefl iad;
With trustie talbots to the battel flies, [skies.
And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear the
Such was the dire confusion of eche wite,
That rose from sleep and walsome power of
wine;

Theie thoughte the foe by trechit yn the nyghte
Had broke theyr camp and gotten paste the
line;
[byllspear shine;

Now here now there the burnysht sheeldes and
Throwote the campe a wild confusionne spredde;
Eche bracd hys armlace siker ne desygne,
The crested helmet nodded on the hedde;
Some caught a slughorne, and an onsett wounde;
Kynge Harolde hearde the charge, and wondred
at the sounde.

Thus Leofwine; O women cas'd in stele;
Was itfe for thys Norwegia's stubborn sede
Throughe the black armoure dyd the anlace

fele,

And rybbes of solid brasse were made to bleede? Whilst yet the worlde, was wondrynge at the deede.

You souldiers, that shoulde stand with byll in [hand, Get full of wine, devoid of any rede.

O shame! oh dyre dishonoure to the lande! He sayde; and shame on everie visage spredde, Ne sawe the erlies face, but addawd hung their

head.

I

Meanwhile dyd Gyrthe unto kynge Harolde

ride,

And tolde howe he dyd with duke Willyam fare. Brave Harolde lookd askaunte, and thus replyd; And can thie fay be bowght wyth drunken [glare;

cheer?

Gyrthe waxen hotte; fhuir in his eyne did And thus he saide; Oh brother, friend, and kynge,

Have I deserved this fremed speche to heare? Bie Goddes hie hallidome ne thoughte the

thynge.

When Tostus sent me golde and sylver store, scornd hys present vile, and scorn'd hys treason

more.

Forgive me, Gyrthe, the brave kynge Harolde cryd;

Who can I trust, if brothers are not true?
I think of Tostus, once my joie and pryde.
Girthe saide, with looke adigne; My lord, I doe.
But what oure foemen are, quod Gyrthe, I'll
shewe;

Bie Gods hie hallidome they preestes are.
Do not, quod Harolde, Girthe, mystell them so,
For theie are everich one brave men at warre.
Quod Girthe 4; Why will ye then provoke theyr
hate?

[grete. 2uod Harolde; great the foe, so is the glorie

And nowe duke Willyam mareschalled his
band,

And stretchd his armie owte a goodlie rowe.
First did a ranke of arcublastries stande, [flo,
Next those on horsebacke drewe the ascendyng
Brave champyones, eche well lerned in the bowe,
Theyr asenglave acrosse theyr horses ty'd,
Or with the loverds squier behinde dyd goe,
Or waited squier lyke at the horses syde.

4 Harold asked them what tydings they brought, and they with long commendation extolled the clemencie of the duke, and in good sadnesse declar

-The king laughing at their folly said, "they bee no priests, but men of warre, valiant in armes Girthe his brother took and stout of courage.' the word out of his mouth and said, "for as much as the Normans bee of such great force, me thinketh it were not wisely done of you to joyne battle with them."-Stowe.

When thus duke Willyam to a monke dyd saie, [awaie. Prepare thyself wyth spede, to Harolde haste

Telle hym from me one of these three to take; That hee to inee do homage for thys lande, Or mee bys heyre, when he deceasyth, make, Or to the judgment of Chrysts vicar stande.] He saide; the monke departyd out of hande, And to kyng Harolde dyd this message bear; Who said; Tell thou the duke, at his likand If he can gette the crown hee may itte wear. He said, and drove the monke out of hys syghtes, [fyghte. And with his brothers rouz'd each manne to bloudie

5 And with the same indiscreetness he drave away a monke that was duke William's ambassador. The monke broughte three offers, to wit, that either Harold should, upon certain conditions, give over the kingdome, or to be king under duke William, or if Harold would denie this, he offered to stande to the judgement of the see apostolic. Stowe.

The king himself stood afoote by the standard, which was made after the shape and fashion of a man fighting, wrought by sumptuous art, with gold and precious stones.-Stowe.

And now the greie-eyd morne with vi'lets drest, Shakyng the dewdrops on the flourie meedes, Fled with her rosie radiance to the west: Forth from the easterne gatte the fyerie steedes Of the bright Sunne awaytynge spirits leedes: The Sunne, in fierie pompe enthrond on hie, Swyfter than thoughte alonge bys jernie gledes, And scatters nyghtes remaynes from oute the skie: He sawe the armies make for bloudie fraie, And stopt his driving steedes, and hid his lyghtsome raye.

Kynge Harolde hie in ayre majestic raysd
His mightie arme, deckt with a manchyn rare;
With even hande a mighty javlyn paizde,
Then furyouse sent it whistlynge thro the ayr
It struck the helmet of the sieur de Beer;
In vayne did brasse or yron stop its waie;
Above his eyne it came, the bones dyd tare,
Peercynge quite thro, before it dyd allaie;
He tumbled, scritchyng wyth hys horrid payne;
His hollow cuishes rang upon the bloudie pleyne.
This Willyam saw, and soundynge Rowlandes
He bent his yron interwoven bowe, [songe
Makynge bothe endes to meet with myghte
full stronge,

From out of mortals syght shot up the floe;
Then swyfte as fallynge starres to earthe belowe
It slaunted down on Alfwoldes payncted sheelde;
Quite thro the silver-bordurd crosse did goe,
Nor loste its force, but stuck into the feelde;

The Normannes, like theyr sovrin, dyd prepare, And shotte ten thousande floes uprysynge in the aire.

As when a flyghte of cranes, that takes their waie
In householde armies thro the flanched ski e,
Alike the cause, or companie or prey,
If that perchaunce some boggie fenne is nie,
Soon as the muddie natyon theie espie,
Inne one blacke cloude theie to the erth de
scende;

Feirce as the fallynge thunderbolte they flie; In vayne do reedes the speckled folk defend: So prone to heavie blowe the arrowes felle, And peered thro brasse, and sente manie to Hea ven or Helle.

Alan Adelfred, of the stowe of Leigh,
Felte a dire arrowe burnynge in his breste;
Before he dyd, he sent hys spear awaie,
Thenne sunke to glorie and eternal reste.
Nevylle, a Normanne of alle Normannes beste,
Throw the jointe cuishe dyd the javlyn feel,
As he on horsebacke for the fyghte addressd,
And sawe hys bloude come smokynge oer the
steele;

He sente the avengynge floe into the ayre, And turnd bys horses hedde, and did to leeche re payre.

And now the javelyns, barbd with deathhis

wynges.

Hurld from the Englysh handes by force aderne,

7 Duke William commanded his men that some of them should shoote directly forward, and other some upward, by reason whereof, the arrowes shot upward destroyed the Englishmen as they stooped, and the arrowes shot directly aforehand wounded them that stood upright.-Stowe.