And made hym in his tatter'd barks to flie, A puddlie streme of bloude flowd out ameine, "Till Tynyan's dethe and opportunity.

Stretch'd out at length besmer'd with gore he laie;

As some tall oke felld from the greenie plaine, To make it more renomed than before,

To live a second time upon the main.
I, tho a Saxon, yet the truthe will telle)
The Saxonnes steynd the place wyth Brittish gore, The erlie nowe an horse and berer han,
Where nete but bloud of sacrifices felle.

And nowe agayne appered on the feeld; Tho' Chrystians stylle they thoghte mouche of And many a mickle kıyghte and mightie manne the pile,

To his dethe-doyug swerd his life did yeeld; And here theie mett when causes dyd it neede; When sière de Broque an arrowe longe lett tie, 'Twas here the auocient elders of the isle

Intending Herewaldus to have sleyne; Dyd by the trecherie of Hengist bleede;

It miss'd; butt hytte Edardus on the ere, O Hengist! han thie.cause bin good and true, And at his pole came out with horrid payne. Thou wouldst such murdrous acts as these Edardus felle upon the bloudie grounde, eschew.

His noblesoule came roashyng from the wounde The erlie was a manne of hie degree,

Thys Herewald perceerd, and full of ire And han that daie full manie Normannes sleine; He on the siere de Broque with furie came; Three Norman champyons of hie degree

Quod he, thou 'st slaughtred my beloved squier. He lefte to smoke upon the bloudie pleine:

But I will be revenged for the saine. The sier Fitzbotevilleine did then advaunce, Into his bowels then his launce he thruste. And with his bowe he smote the erlies hede;

And drew thereout a steemie drerie lode; Who eftsoons gored hym with his tylting launce,

Quod be, these offals are for ever curst, (fore And at his horses feet he tunabled dede:

Shall serre the coughs, and rooks, and da ses for His partyng spirit hovered o'er the floude

Then on the pleine the steemie lode bee throde, Of soddayne roushynge mouche lov'd pourple Smokynge wyth lyfe, and dy'd with crymsua bloude.


Fitz Broque, who saw his father killen lie, De Viponte then, a squier of low degree,

Ah me! sayde he; what woeful syghte I see! An arrowe drewe with all his myghte ameine;

But now I muste do somethyng more than sighe; The arrowe graz'd upon the erlies knee,

And then an arrowe from the bowe drev he, A punie wounde, that causd but littel peine.

Beneth the erlie's navil came the darte; So have I seene a dolthead place a stone,

Fitz Broque on foote ban drawne it from the bore; Enthoghte to staie a driving rivers course;

And upwards went into the ealie's harte, But better han it bin to lett alone,

And out the crymson streme of bloude gan fiore, It onlie drives it on with mickle force;

As fromm a hatch, drawne with a vebement geir, The erlie, wounded by so base a hynde,

White rushe the burstyngewares, and roar along Rays'd furyous doyngs in his noble mynde.

the weir. The siere Chatillion, yonger of that name, The erle with one honde grasp'd the recer's mayoe, Advaunced next before the erlie's syghte;

And with the other he his launce besped; His fader was a manne of mickle fame,

And then felle bleedyng on the bloudie plaide. And be renomde and valorous in fyghte;

His launce it hytt Fitz Broque upon the hede; Chatilliou his trustie swerd forth drewe,

Upon his hede it made a wounde full slyghte, The erle drawes his, menne both of mickle myghte; But peerc'd his shoulder, ghastlie wounde infrae, And at eche other vengouslie they flew,

Before bis optics daunced a shade of nyghte, As mastie dogs at Hocktide set to fyghte;

Whyche soone were closed yun a sleepe etcrot, Bothe scornd to yeelde, and bothe abbor’de to

The noble erlie than, withote a grone, fie,

Took flyghte, to fynde the regyons unknowns. Resolv'd to vanquishe, or resolv'd to die.

Brave Alured from binethe his noble horse Chatillion hyt the erlie on the hede,

Was gotten on his leggs, with bloude all smore; That splytte eftsoons his cristed helm in twayne; And nowe eletten on another horse, Wbiche be perforce withe target covered,

Eftsoons he withe his launce did manie gore. And to the battel went with myghte ameine, The cowart Norman knyghtes before byin dedde, The erlie hytte Chatill on thilke a blowe

And from a distaunce sent their arrowes kecde; Upon his breste, his harte was plein to see; But no such destinie awaits bis hedde, He tumbled at the horses feet alsoe,

As to be sleyen by a wighte so meene. And in dethe panges he seez'd the recer's knee: Tho oft the oke falls by the Fillen's shork, Faste as the ivy rounde the oke doth clymbe,

Tys moe than hyndes can do, to move the rock So faste he dying gryp'd the racer's? lymbe.

Upon Du Chatelet he ferselie sett, The recer then beganne to flynge and kicke, And peere'd liis bodie with a force full grete; And toste the erlie farr off to the grounde; The asenglave of his tylt-launce was weit, The erlie's squire then a swerde did sticke The roilynge bloude alonge the launce did fiect. Into hys harte, a dedlie ghastlie wounde;

Adeauncynge, as a mastie at a bull, And downe he felle upon the crymson pleine, He rann his launce into Fitz Warren's barte; Upon Chatillion's soulless corse of claie;

From Partaies bowe, a wight unmercifull,

Within his own he felt a cruel darte; 7 This is a modern word. Dean Milles justifies Close by the Norman champyons he han sleite, it from the antiquity and universality of horse He fell; and mixd his bloude with theirs upue

the pleine.



Erle Ethelbert then hove, and with clinic juste, Upon his thyghes and harte-swefte legges he wore
A launce, that stroke Partaie upon the thighe, A hugie goat skyn, all of one grete peice;
And pinn'd him downe unto the gorie duste; A boar skyn sheelde on his bare armes he bore;
Cruel, quod he, thou cruellie shalt die.

His gauntletts were the skynn of harte of Greece.
With that his launce he enterd at his throte; They fledde; he followed close upon their heels,
He scritch'd and screem'd in melancholie mood; Vowynge vengeance for his deare countrymanne;
And at his backe eftsoons came out, God wote, And siere de Sancelotte his vengeance feels;
And after it a crymson streme of bloude:

He peerc'd hys backe, and oute the bloude ytt In agonie and peine he there did lie,

[arme, While life and dethe strove for masterrie.

His bloude went downe the swerde unto his

In springing rivulet, alive and warme.
He gryped hard the bloudie murdring launce,
And in a gronc he left this mortel lyfe.

His swerde was shorte, and broade, and myckle Behynde the erlie Fiscampe did advaunce,


(waje; Bethoghte to kill him with a stabbynge knife; And no mann's bone could stonde to stoppe itts But Egward, who perceevd his fowle intent, The Normann's harte in partes two cutt cleane, Eftsoons his trustie swerde he forthwyth drewe, He clos'd his eyne, and clos'd bis eyne for aie. And thilke a cruel blowe to Fiscampe sent, Then with his swerde he sett on Fitz du Valle, That soule and boddie's bloude at one gate newe. A kuyghte mouch famous for to runne at tylte;

Thilk deeds do all deserve, whose deeds so fowle With thilk a furie on hym he dyd falle, Will black theire earthlie name, if not their into his neck he ran the swerde and hylte; soule,

As myghtie lyghtenynge ofteu has been founde,

To dryve an oke into unfallow'd grounde.
When lo! an arrowe from Walleris honde,
Winged with fate and dethe daunced alonge;

And with the swerde, that in his neck yet stoke, And slewe the noble flower of Powyslonde,

The Norman fell unto the bloudie grounde; Howel ap Jerah, who yclepd the stronge.

And with the fall ap Tewdore's swerde he broke, Whan he the first mischaunce received han, And bloude afreshe came trickling from the With horsemans haste be from the armie rodde;

wounde. And did repaire unto the cunnynge manne,

As whan the hyndes, before a mountayne wolfe, Who sange a charme, that dyd it mickle goode;

Flie from his paws, and angrie vysage grym; Then praid seyncte Cuthbert, and our holie But when he falls into the pittie golphe, dame,

They dare hym to his bearde, and battone hym; To blesse his labour, and to heal the same. And cause he fryghted them so muche before,

Lyke cowart hyndes, they battone hym the more. Then drewe the arrowe, and the wounde did seck, And putt the teint of holie herbies on;

So, whan they sawe ap Tewdore was bereft And putt a rowe of bloude-stones round his neck; of his keen swerde, thatt wroghte thilke great disAnd then did say; go, champyon, get agone. They turned about, eftsoons upon hym lept, (maie, And now was comynge Harrolde to defend, And full a score engaged in the fraie. And mietten by Walleris cruel darte;

Mervyn ap Tewdore, ragyng as a bear, His sheelde of wolf-skinn did him not attend, Seiz'd on the beaver of the sier de Laque; The arrow peerced into his noble barte;

Aud wring'd his hedde with such a vehement gier, As some tall oke, hewn from the mountayne hed, His visage was turned round unto his backe. Falls to the pleine; so fell the warriour dede. Backe to his harte retyr'd the useless gore,

And felle upon the pleine to rise no more. His countryman, brave Mervyn ap Teudor, Who love of hym han from his country gone, Then on the mightie siere Fitz Pierce he few, When be perceerd his friend lie in his gore, And broke his helm and seiz'd hym bie the throte: As furious as a mountayn wolf he ranne. [bryghte, Then manie Normann knyghtes their arrowes drew, As ouphant faieries, whan the Moone sheenes That enter'd into Merven's harte, God wote. In littel circles daunce upon the greene,

In dying pangs he gryp'd his throte more stronge, All living creatures flie far from their syghte, And from their sockets started out his eyes; Ne by the race of destinie be seen;

And from his mouthe came out his blamelesstonge: For what he be that ouphant faieries stryke, And bothe in peyne and anguishe eftsoon dies.

Their soules will wander to kyng Offa's dyke 8. As some rude rocke torne from his bed of claie, So from the face of Mervyn Tewdor brave

Stretch'd onn the pleyne the brave ap Tewdore

The Normans eftsoons fled awaie aghaste;
And lefte behynde their bowe and asenglave, And now erle Ethelbert and Egward came
For fear of hym, in thilk a cowart haste.

Brave Mervyn from the Normannes to assist;
His garb sufficient were to meve affryghte; A myghtie siere, Pitz Chatulet bie name,
A wolf skin girded round hys myudle was; An arrowe drew that dyd them littel list.
A bear skin, from Norwegians wan in fyghte,
Was tytend round his shoulder by the claws:

In salvage forrest by adventure slew, So Hercules, 'tis sunge 9 much like to him,

And reft the spoil his ornament to be; Upon his shoulder wore a lyon's skin.

Which spreading all his back with dreadfull 8 This couplet has occurred before, line 229 of Made all that him so horrible did see [view,

Think him Alcides in a lion's skin, 9 And then about his shoulders broad be threw When the Nemean conquest he did win. A hoary bide of some wild beast, whom he

Spenser. Muispotmas. VOL. XV.

this poem.


ye so

Erle Egward points his launce at Chatulet,

When the dyre clatterynge of the shielde and And Ethelbert at Walleris set his;

launce And Fgward dd the siere a hard blowe hytt, Made them to be by Hughe Fitzhugh espyd. But Fthelbert by a mischaunce dyd miss:

He lyfted up his voice, and loudlie cryd; Fear laide W’alleris flatt upon the strande,

Like wolls in wintere did the Normanne yell; He ne deserted a death from erlies hande.

Gyrthe drew hys swerde, and cut hys burled Betwyxt the vibbes of sire Fitz Chatelet

hyde; The nounted launce of Egward dyd ypass:

The proto-slene inanne of the fielde he felle; The riistaunt syde thereof was rudlie wet,

Out streemd the bloude, and ran in smokinge And he fell breathless on the bloudie grass.

curles, As cowart Walleris laie on the grounde,

Reflected bie the Moone seemd rubies mixt wyth The dreaded weapov hummed oer his heade,

pearles. And hutt the squier thilke a lethal wounde,

A troope of Norinannes from the mass-songe Upon his fallen lorrie he tumbled dead :

came, Oh shame to Norman armes! A lord a slave,

Rousd from their praiers by the flotting crie; A captyve villeyn than a lorde more brave!

Thoughe Gyrthe and Ailwardus perceerd the From Chatelet hys launce erle Egward drew,

same, And bit Wallerie on the dexter cheek;

Not once theie stood abashd, or thoghte to flie. Peere'd to his braine, and cut his tongue in two:

He seizd a bill, to conquer or to die; There, knyghte, quod he, let that thy actions

Fierce as a clevis from a rocke ytorne,

That makes a vallie wheresoe're it lie;
Fierce as a ryver burstynge from the borne ";

So fiercelie Gyrthe hitte Fitz du Gore a blowe, (No. 2.)

And on the verdaunt playne he layde the chamOu Truth! immortal daughter of the skies,

pyone lowe, Too little known to wryters of these daies,

'Tancarville thus; Alle peace in Williams name; Teach me, fayre saincte! thy passynge worthe

Let none cdraw his arcublaster bowe.” · to pryze, 'To blame a friend and give a foeman prayse.

Gyrthe cas'd bis weppone, as he hearde the

same, The fickle Moone, bedeckt wythe sylver rays,

And vengynge Normannes staid the flyinge floe. Leadynge a traine of starres of feeble lyghte,.

The sire wente onne; Ye menne, what mean With Icok adigne the worlde belowe surveies, The world, that wotted not it coud be nyghte;

Thus unprovokd to courte a bloudie fyghte?" Wyth armour dyd, with human gore ydeyd,

Quod Gyrthe; Oure meanynge we

ne care to Shee sees kynge Harolde stande, fayre Englands

showe, curse and pryde.

Nor dread thy duke wyth all his men of myghte; With ale and vefnage drunk his souldiers lay; Here single onlie these to all thie crewe Here was an hynde, anie an erlie spredde; Shall shewe what Englysh handes and heartes can Sad keepynge of their leaders natal daje!

doe. This even in drinke, toomvrrow with the dead! Thro' everie troope disorder reerd her hedde;

Seek not for bloude, Tancarville calme te Dancynge and heideignes was the onlie theme;


(traught; Sad dome was theires, wholefte this easie bedde,

Nor joie in dethe, lyke madmen most dir And wak'd in torments from so sweet a dream.

In peace and mercy is a Chrystians pryde : Duke Williams menne of comeing dethe afraide,

He that dothe contestes pryze is in a faulte. All myghte to the great Godde for succour askd

And now the news was to duke William and praied'.


That men of Haroldes armie taken were; Thus Harolde to his wites that stoode arounde;

For theyre good cheere all caties were eie “ Goe! Gyrthe aud Eilward, take bills half a

thoughte, [bound;

And Gyrthe and Eilwardus enjoi'd goode And search how farre oure foeman's campe dothe

Quod Willyam; Thus shall Willyam be founde Yourself have rede; I nede to saje ne more. A friend to everie manne that treads on Eng My brother best belov'd of anie ore,

lysh ground. My Leofwinus, go to everich wite, Tell them to raunge the battle to the grore, Erle Leofwinus throwghe the campe ypass id, And waiten tyll I sende the hest for fyghte." And sawe bothe men and erlies on the grounde;

He saide; the loieaul broders lefte the place, Success and cheerfulness depicted on ech face. * In Turgott's tyme Holenwell braste of ertbe Slowelie brave Gyrthe and Eilward dyd ad

so fierce that it threw a stonemell carrying the vaunce,

same awaie. J. Lydgate ne knowynge this lefte And markd wyth care the armies dystant syde, out o line.

3 He sent out before them that should spye, "The Englishmen spent the whole night in and view the number and force of the enemies, drinking, singing and dauncing, not sleeping one which when they were perceived to be among the winke: on the other side the Normans gave them dukes tents, duke William caused them to be led selves to ackuowledging their sinnes, and to prayer about the tents, and then made them good cheers all the night, and in the morning they communi- commanding them to be sent home to their lord cated the Lord's body. Stowe,

safe without harme, Stowe.




They slepte,' as thoughe they woulde have To 'tone for their bewrate so soone 'twas done, slepte theyr last,

And lyfted bylls enseem'd an yron woode; And hadd alreadie felte theyr fatale wounde. Here glorious Alfwold towr'd above the wites, He started backe, and was wyth shame astownd; And seem'd to brave the fuir of twa ten thousand Loked wanne wyth anger, and he shooke wyth

fights. rage;

[dyd sound, When throughe the hollow tentes these wordes Thus Leofwine; To day will Enclandes dome Rowse from your sleepe, detratours of the age! Be tyxt for aie, for gode or evill state; Was it for thys the stoute Norwegian bledde?

This sunnes aunture be felt for years to come; Awake, ye huscarles, now, or waken wyth the Then bravelie fyghte, and live till deathe of dead.


Thinke of brave Ælfridus, yclept the grete, As when the shepster in the shadie bowre

From porte to porto the red-haird Dane ho In jintle slumbers chase the heat of daie,


(mate, Hears doublyng echoe wind the wolfins rore, The Danes, with whomme not lyoncels could That neare hys flocke is watch yoce for a praie,

Who made of peopled reauims a barten waste; Hetremblynge for bis sheep drives dreeme awaie,

Thinke how at once by you Norwegia bled, Gripes faste hys burled croke, and sore adradde Whilste dethe and victorie for magystiie bested. Wyth feeting strides he hastens to the fraie, And rage and prowess fyres the coistrell iad; Meanwhile dyd Gyrthe unto kynge Harolde With trustie talbuts to the battel flies, [skies.

ride, And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear the And tolde howe he dyd with duke Willyam fare. Such was the dire confusion of eche wite,

Brave Harolde lookd askaunte, and thus replyd; That rose from sleep and walsome power of

Aud can thie fay be bowght wyth drunken wine;


glare; Theie thoughte the foe by trechit yn the nyghte

Gyrthe waxen hotte; fhuir in his eyne did Had broke theyr camp and gotten paste the

And thus he saide; Oh brother, friend, and line; (byllspear shine;

kynge, Now here now there the burnysht sheeldes and Have I deserved this fremed speche to heare? Throwote the campe a wild confusionne spredde;

Bie Goddes hie hallidome ne thoughte the Eche bracd hys armlace siker ne desygne,

thynge. The crested helmet nodded on the hedde;

When Tostus sent me golde and sylver store, Some caught a slughorne, and an onsett wounde; I scornd hys present vile, and scorn'd hys treason Kynge Harol«le bearde the charge, and wondred at the sounde,

Forgive me, Gyrthe, the brave kynge Harolde Thus Leofwine; O women cas'd in stele;

cryd; Was itte for thys Norwegia's stubborn sede

Who can I trust, if brothers are not true? 'Throughe the black armoure dyd the anlace

I think of Tostus, once my joie and pryde. fele,

Girthe saide, with looke adigne; My lord, I doe. And rybbes of solid brasse were made to bleede?

But what oure foemen are, quod Gyrthe, I'll Whilst yet the worlde, was wondrynge at the

shewe; deede,

Bie Gods hie ballidome they preestes are. You souldiers, that shoulde stand with byll in

Do not, quod Harolde, Girthe, mystell them so, Get full of wine, devoid of any rede. [hand,

For theie are everich one brave men at warre, O shame! oh dyre dishonoure to the lande!

Quod Girthe 4; Why will ye then provoke theyr

hate? He sayde; and shame on everie visage spredde,

[grete. Ne sawe the erlies face, but addawd hung their | Quod Harolde; great the foe, so is the glorie head.

And nowe duke Willyam mareschalled his Thus he; Rowze yee, and forme the boddie

band, tyghte.

(renownd, And stretchd bis armie owte a goodlie rowe. 'The Kentysh menne in fronte, for strenght

First did a ranke of arcublastries stande, filo, Next the Brystowans dare the bloudie fyghte,

Next those on horsebacke drewe the ascendyng And last the numerous crewe shall presse the

Brave champyones, eche well lerned in the bowe, grounde.

Theyr asenglave acrosse theyr horses ty'd, I and my king be wyth the Kenters founde; Or with the loverds squier behinde dyd gue, Bythric and Alfwold hedde the Brystowe bande;

Or waited squier lyke at the horses syde. and Bertrams sonne, the manne of glorious wounde,

4 Harold asked them what tydings they brought, Lead in the rear the menged of the lande;

and they with long commendation extolled the And let the Londoners and Sussers plie

clemencie of the duke, and in good sadnesse declarBie Herewardes memuine and the lighte skyrtsanie. ed that all the host almost did seeme to be priests.

He saide; and as a packe of hounds belent, -The king laughing at their folly said, “ they When that the trackyng of the hare is gone, bee no priests, but men of warre, valiant in armes If one perchaunce shall hit upon the scent, and stout of courage." Girthe his brother took With twa redubbled fhuir the alans run; the word out of his mouth and said, “ for as much So styrrd the valiante Saxons everich one; as the Normans bec of such great force, me Soone linked man to man the champyones thinketh it were not wisely done of you to joyne stoode;

battle with them."-Stowe.

some raye.

When thus duke Willyam to a monke dyd And now the greje-eyd morne with vi'lets drest, saie,


Shakyng the dewdrops on the flourie meedes, Prepare thyself wyth spede, to Harolde haste Fled with her rosie radiance to the west:

Forth from the easterne gatte the fyerie steedes Telle hym from me one of these three to take; Of the bright Sunne awaytynge spirits leedes: That hee to inee do homage for thys lande, The Sunne, in fierie pompe enthrond ou bie, Or mee hys heyre, when he deceasyth, make, Swyfter than thoughte alonge bys jemie gledes, Or to the judgment of Chrysts vicar stande. Andscatters nyghtes remaynes from oute the skie: He saide; the monke departyd out of hande, He sawe the armies make for bloudie fraie, And to kyng Harolde dyd this message bear; And stopt his driving steedes, and hid his lygbitWho said; Tell thou the duke, at his likand If he can gette the crown hee may itte wear.

Kynge Harolde hie in ayre majestic raysd He said, and drove the monke out of hys

His mightie arme, deckt with a manchyn rare; syghtes,

(fyghte. And with his brothers rouz'd each manne to bloudie

With even hande a mighty javlyn paizde,

Then furyouse sent it whistlynge thro the afr. A standarde made of sylke and jewells rare,

It struck the helmet of the sieur de Beer; Wherein alle coloures wroughte aboute in

In vayne did brasse or yron stop its waie; bighes,


Above his eyne it came, the bones dyd tare, An armyd knyghte was seen deth-doynge

Peercynge quite thro, before it dyd allaie;

He tumbled, scritchyng wyth hys borrid payne; Under this motte, He conquers or he dies.

His hollow cuishes rang upon the bloudie plesoe. This standard rych, endazzlyng mortal eyes, Was borne neare Harolde at the Kenters heade, This Willyam saw, and soundynge Rowlandes Who chargd hys broders for the grete empryze He bent his yron interwoven bowe, That straite the hest for battle should be Makynge bothe endes to meet with myghte spredde.

full stronge, To evry erle and knyghte the worde is gyven,

From out of mortals syght shot up the foe; And cries a guerre and slughornes shake the vault- Then swyfte as fallynge starres to earthe below ed Heaven.

It'slaunted down on Alfwoldes payncted sbeelde;

Quite thro the silver-bordurd crosse did goe, As when the Erthe, torne by convulsyons dyre, Nor loste its force, but stuck into the feelde; In reaulmes of darkness hid from human sy:hte, The Normannes, like theyr sovrin, dyd prepare, The warring force of water, air, and fyre, And shotte ten thousande floes uprysynge in the Brast from the regions of eternal nyghte,

aire 7. Thro the darke caverns seeke the reaulmes of

As when a flyghte of cranes, that takes their wae lyght;

In householde arınies thro the flanched skie, Some loftie mountayne, by its fury torne,

Alike the cause, or companie or prey, Dreadfully moves, and causes grete affryght;

If that perchaunce some boggie fenne is nie, Nowe here, now there, majestic nods the

Soon as the muddie natyon theie espie, bourne,


Inne one blacke cloude theie to the erth deAnd awfulle shakes, mov'd by the almighty Whole woodes and forests nod, and ryvers change


Feirce as the fallynge thunderbolte they flie; theyr course.

In vayne do reedes the speckled folk defend: So did the men of war at once advaunce,

So prone to heavie blowe the arrowes felle, Linkd man to man, enseemd one boddie light; And peered thro brasse, and sente manie to HeaAbove a wood, yform'd of bill and launce,

ven or Helle, 'That poddyd in the ayre most straunge to syght. Harde as the iron were the menne of mighte,

Ælan Adelfred, of the stowe of Leigh, Ne neede of slughornes to enrowse theyr

Felte a dire arrowe burnynge in his breste;

Before he dyd, he sent bys spear awaie, minde;

Thenne sunke to glorie and eternal reste. Eche shootynge spere yrеaden for the fyghte, Moore feerce than fallynge rocks, more swefte

Nevylle, a Normanne of alle Normannes beste, than wynd;

Throw the jointe cuishe dyd the javlyn feel, With solemne step, by ecchoe made more dyre,

As he on horsebacke for the fyghte addressd, One single boddie all theie marchd, theyr egen on

And sawe hys bloude come smokynge oer the

steele; fyre.

He sente the avengynge floe into the ayre, 6 And with the same indiscreetness he drave And turnd bys horses hedde, and did to leeche re

payre. away a monke that was duke William's ambassador. The monke broughte three offers, to wit, And now the javelyns, barbd with death his that either Harold should, upon certain condi

wynges. tions, give over the kingdome, or to be king under Hurld from the Englysh handes by force aderne, duke William, or if Harold would denie this, he offered to stande to the judgement of the see apos- 7 Duke William commanded his men that some tolic.--Stowe.

of them should shoote directly forward, and other The king himself stood afoote by the standard, some upward, by reason whereof, the arrowes sbor which was made after the shape and fashion of a upward destroyed the Englishmen as they stooped, man fighting, wrought by sumptuous art, with and the arrowes shot directly aforehand wounded gold and precious stones.Stowe.

them that stood upright.--Stowe,

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