 | Athelston |  |
67
ATHELSTON
1
Lord, þat is off myȝtys most,Fadyr and sone and holy gost,
Bryng vs out off synne,
And lene vs grace so for to wyrke,
To loue boþe God and holy kyrke,
Þat we may heuene wynne.
Lystnes, lordyngys þat ben hende,
Off falsnesse, hou it wil ende
A man þat ledes hym þerin.
Off foure weddyd breþeryn I wole ȝow tel,
Þat wolden yn Yngelond go dwel,
Þat sybbe were nouȝt off kyn.
2
And alle foure messangeres þey were,Þat wolden yn Yngelond lettrys bere,
As it wes here kynde.
By a forest gan þey mete
Wiþ a cros, stood in a strete,
Be leff vndyr a lynde.
And, as þe story telles me,
Ylke man was of dyuers cuntre,
In book iwreten we fynde—
For loue of here metyng þare,
Þey swoor hem weddyd breþeryn for euermare,
In trewþe trewely dede hem bynde.
3
Þe eldeste off hem ylkon,He was hyȝt Athelston,
Þe kyngys cosyn dere;
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Hys eemes sone, I vndyrstood;
Þerfore he neyȝyd hym nere.
And at þe laste, weel and fayr,
Þe kyng hym dyyd withouten ayr;
Þenne was þer non hys pere
But Athelston, hys eemes sone;
To make hym kyng wolde þey nouȝt schone,
To corowne hym with gold so clere.
4
Now was he kyng semely to se:He sendes afftyr hys breþeryn þre,
And gaff hem here warysoun.
Þe eldest broþir he made eerl of Douere—
And þus þe pore man gan couere—
Lord off tour and toun.
Þat oþer broþer he made eerl of Stane—
Egelond was hys name,
A man off gret renoun—
And gaff hym tyl hys weddyd wyff
Hys owne sustyr, dame Edyff,
Wiþ gret deuocyoun.
5
Þe ferþe broþir was a clerk,Mekyl he cowde off Goddys werk:
Hys name it was Alryke.
Cauntyrbury was vacant
And fel into þat kyngys hand;
He gaff it hym, þat wyke,
And made hym bysschop of þat stede,
Þat noble clerk, on book cowde rede—
In þe world was non hym lyche.
Þus avaunsyd he hys broþer þorwȝ Goddys gras,
And Athelston hymseluen was
A good kyng and a ryche.
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6
And he þat was eerl off Stane—Sere Egeland was hys name—
Was trewe, as ȝe schal here.
Þorwȝ þe myȝt off Goddys gras,
He gat vpon þe countas
Twoo knaue-chyldren dere.
Þat on was fyfftene wyntyr old,
Þat oþer þryttene, as men me told:
In þe world was non here pere—
Also whyt so lylye-flour,
Red as rose off here colour,
As bryȝt as blosme on brere.
7
Boþe þe eerl and hys wyff,Þe kyng hem louede as hys lyff,
And here sones twoo;
And offtensyþe he gan hem calle
Boþe to boure and to halle,
To counsayl whenne þey scholde goo.
Þerat sere Wymound hadde gret envye,
Þat eerl off Douere, wyttyrlye,
In herte he was ful woo;
He þouȝte al for here sake
False lesyngys on hem to make,
To don hem brenne and sloo.
8
And þanne sere Wymound hym beþouȝte:‘Here loue þus endure may nouȝte;
Þorwȝ wurd oure werk may sprynge.’
He bad hys men maken hem ȝare;
Vnto Londone wolde he fare,
To speke wiþ þe kynge.
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He mette with þe kyng ful sone.
He sayde: ‘Welcome, my derelyng.’
Þe kyng hym fraynyd soone anon
Be what way he hadde igon,
Wiþouten ony dwellyng.
9
‘Come þou ouȝt be Cauntyrbery,Þere þe clerkys syngen mery
Boþe erly and late?
Hou faryth þat noble clerk,
Þat mekyl can on Goddys werk?
Knowest þou ouȝt hys state?
And come þou ouȝt be þe eerl off Stane,
Þat wurþy lord in hys wane?
Wente þou ouȝt þat gate?
Hou fares þat noble knyȝt,
And hys sones fayr and bryȝt,
My sustyr, ȝiff þat þou wate?’
10
‘Sere,’ þanne he sayde, ‘wiþouten les,Be Cauntyrbery my way I ches;
Þere spak I wiþ þat dere.
Ryȝt weel gretes þee þat noble clerk,
Þat mykyl can off Goddys werk;
In þe world is non hys pere.
And also be Stane my way I drowȝ;
Wiþ Egeland I spak inowȝ,
And with þe countesse so clere.
Þey fare weel, is nouȝt to layne,
And boþe here sones.’ Þe king was fayne,
And in his herte made glad chere.
11
‘Sere kyng,’ he sayde, ‘ȝiff it be þi wille,To chaumbyr þat þou woldest wenden tylle,
Counsayl for to here,
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Þer comen neuere non swyche in þis lande
Off al þis hundryd ȝere.’
Þe kyngys herte þan was ful woo
Wiþ þat traytour for to goo;
Þey wente boþe forþ in fere;
And whenne þat þey were þe chaumbyr withinne,
False lesyngys he gan begynne
On hys weddyd broþer dere.
12
‘Sere kyng,’ he sayde, ‘woo were me,Ded þat I scholde see þe,
So moot I haue my lyff;
For by hym þat al þis worl wan,
Þou hast makyd me a man,
And iholpe me for to þryff.
For in þy land, sere, is a fals traytour;
He wole doo þe mykyl dyshonour,
And brynge þe on lyue;
He wole deposen þe slyly,
Sodaynly þan schalt þou dy,
Be Crystys woundys fyue.’
13
Þenne sayde þe kyng: ‘So moot þou the,Knowe I þat man, and I hym see?
His name þou me telle.’
‘Nay,’ says þat traytour, ‘þat wole I nouȝt,
For al þe gold þat euere was wrouȝt—
Be masse-book and belle—
But ȝiff þou me þy trowþe wil plyȝt,
Þat þou schalt neuere bewreye þe knyȝt,
Þat þe þe tale schal telle.’
Þanne þe kyng his hand vp rauȝte,
Þat false man his trowþe betauȝte;
He was a deuyl off helle!
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14
‘Sere kyng,’ he sayde, ‘þou madyst me knyȝt,And now þou hast þy trowþe me plyȝt
Oure counsayl for to layne:
Sertaynly, it is non oþir
But Egelane, þy weddyd broþir—
He wolde þat þou were slayne;
He dos þy sustyr to vndyrstande
He wole be kyng off þy lande,
And þus he begynnes here trayne;
He wole þe poysoun ryȝt slyly,
Sodaynly þanne schalt þou dy,
Be hym þat suffryd payne.’
15
Þanne swoor þe kyng be cros and roode:‘Meete ne drynk schal do me goode,
Tyl þat he be dede;
Boþe he and hys wyff, hys soones twoo,
Schole þey neuere be no moo
In Yngelond on þat stede.’
‘Nay,’ says þe traytour, ‘so moot I the,
Ded wole I nouȝt my broþer se;
But do þy beste rede.’
No lengere þere þen wolde he lende:
He takes hys leue, to Douere gan wende.
God geue hym schame and dede!
16
Now is þat traytour hom iwent.A messanger was afftyr sent
To speke with þe kyng.
I wene he bar his owne name:
He was hoten Athelstane;
He was foundelyng.
Þe lettrys were imaad fullyche þare,
Vnto Stane for to fare
Wiþouten ony dwellyng,
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And þe countasse alsoo,
Dame Edyue, þat swete þyng.
17
And in þe lettre ȝit was it tolde,Þat þe kyng þe eerlys sones wolde
Make hem boþe knyȝt;
And þerto his seel he sette.
Þe messanger wolde nouȝt lette,
Þe way he rydes ful ryȝt.
18
Þe messanger, þe noble man,Takes hys hors and forþ he wan,
And hyes a ful good spede.
Þe eerl in hys halle he fande;
He took hym þe lettre in his hande,
Anon he bad hym rede:
‘Sere,’ he sayde also swyþe,
‘Þis lettre ouȝte to make þe blyþe:
Þertoo þou take good hede.
Þe kyng wole for þe cuntas sake
Boþe þy sones knyȝtes make—
To London I rede þe spede.
19
‘Þe kyng wole for þe cuntas sakeBoþe þy sones knyȝtys make,
Þe blyþere þou may be.
Þy fayre wyff with þe þou bryng—
And þer be ryȝt no lettyng—
Þat syȝte þat sche may see.’
Þenne sayde þat eerl with herte mylde:
‘My wyff goþ ryȝt gret with chylde,
And forþynkes me,
Sche may nouȝt out off chaumbyr wyn,
To speke with non ende off here kyn,
Tyl sche delyueryd be.’
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20
But into chaumbyr þey gunne wende,To rede þe lettrys before þat hende,
And tydyngys tolde here soone.
Þenne sayde þe cuntasse: ‘So moot I the,
I wil nouȝt lette tyl I þere be,
Tomorwen or it be noone.
21
‘To see hem knyȝtys, my sones fre,I wole nouȝt lette tyl I þere be:
I schal no lengere dwelle.
Cryst forȝelde my lord þe kyng,
Þat has grauntyd hem here dubbyng;
Myn herte is gladyd welle.’
22
Þe eerl hys men bad make hem ȝare;He and hys wyff forþ gunne þey fare,
To London faste þey wente.
At Westemynstyr was þe kyngys wone;
Þere þey mette with Athelstone,
Þat afftyr hem hadde sente.
23
Þe goode eerl soone was hent,And feteryd faste, verrayment,
And hys sones twoo.
Ful lowde þe countasse gan to crye,
And sayde: ‘Goode broþir, mercy!
Why wole ȝe vs sloo?
What haue we aȝens ȝow done,
Þat ȝe wole haue vs ded so soone?
Me þynkiþ ȝe arn oure foo.’
Þe kyng as wood ferde in þat stede;
He garte hys sustyr to presoun lede—
In herte he was ful woo.
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24
Þenne a squyer, was þe countasses frende,To þe qwene he gan wende,
And tydyngys tolde here soone.
Gerlondes off chyryes off sche caste,
Into þe halle sche come at þe laste,
Longe or it were noone.
‘Sere kyng, I am before þe come
Wiþ a chyld, douȝtyr or a sone;
Graunte me my bone,
My broþir and sustyr þat I may borwe,
Tyl þe nexte day at morwe,
Out off here paynys stronge;
25
‘Þat we mowe wete be comoun sentIn þe playne parlement...’
‘Dame,’ he sayde, ‘goo fro me;
Þy bone schal nouȝt igrauntyd be,
I doo þe to vndyrstande.
For, be hym þat weres þe corowne off þorn,
Þey schole be drawen and hangyd tomorn,
Ȝyff I be kyng off lande.’
26
And whenne þe qwene þese wurdes herde,As sche hadde be beten wiþ ȝerde,
Þe teeres sche leet doun falle.
Sertaynly, as I ȝow telle,
On here bare knees doun sche felle,
And prayde ȝit for hem alle.
‘A, dame,’ he sayde, ‘verrayment,
Hast þou broke my comaundement?
Abyyd ful dere þou schalle.’
Wiþ hys foot (he wolde nouȝt wonde)
He slowȝ þe chyld ryȝt in here wombe:
Sche swownyd amonges hem alle.
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27
Ladyys and maydenys þat þere were,Þe qwene to here chaumbyr bere,
And þere was dool inowȝ.
Soone withinne a lytyl spase
A knaue-chyld iborn þer wase,
As bryȝt as blosme on bowȝ.
He was boþe whyt and red;
Off þat dynt was he ded—
Hys owne fadyr hym slowȝ.
Þus may a traytour baret rayse,
And make manye men ful euele at ayse,
Hymselff nouȝt afftyr it lowȝ.
28
But ȝit þe qwene, as ȝe schole here,Sche callyd vpon a messangere,
Bad hym a lettre fonge,
And bad hym wende to Cauntyrbery,
Þere þe clerkys syngen mery
Boþe masse and euensonge.
‘Þis lettre þou þe bysschop take,
And praye hym for Goddys sake
Come borewe hem out off here bande.
He wole doo more for hym, I wene,
Þanne for me, þouȝ I be qwene—
I doo þe to vndyrstande.
29
‘An eerldom in Spayne I haue of land;Al I sese into þyn hand,
Trewely, as I þe hyȝt,
An hundryd besauntys off gold red.
Þou may saue hem from þe ded,
Ȝyff þat þyn hors be wyȝt.’
‘Madame, brouke weel þy moregeue,
Also longe as þou may leue:
Þerto haue I no ryȝt;
77
Cryst in heuene forȝelde it þe;
I wole be þere tonyȝt.
30
‘Madame, þrytty myles off hard wayI haue reden, siþ it was day:
Ful sore I gan me swynke;
And for to ryde now fyue and twenti þertoo,
An hard þyng it were to doo,
Forsoþe, ryȝt as me þynke.
Madame, it is nerhande passyd prime,
And me behoues al for to dyne,
Boþe wyn and ale to drynke.
Whenne I have dynyd, þenne wole I fare.
God may couere hem off here care,
Or þat I slepe a wynke.’
31
Whenne he hadde dynyd, he wente his way,Also faste as þat he may,
He rod be Charynge-cros,
And entryd into Flete-strete,
And seþþyn þorwȝ Londone, I ȝow hete,
Vpon a noble hors.
Þe messanger, þat noble man,
On Loundone-brygge sone he wan—
For his trauayle he hadde no los—
From Stone into Steppyngebourne,
Forsoþe his way nolde he nouȝt tourne;
Sparyd he nouȝt for myre ne mos.
32
And þus hys way wendes heFro Osprynge to þe Blee.
Þenne myȝte he see þe toun
Off Cauntyrbery, þat noble wyke,
Þerin lay þat bysschop ryke,
Þat lord off gret renoun.
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33
And whenne þey runggen vndernbelle,He rod in Londone, as I ȝow telle:
He was non er redy;
And ȝit to Cauntyrbery he wan,
Longe or euensong began;
He rod mylys fyffty.
34
Þe messanger noþyng abod;Into þe palays forþ he rod,
Þere þat þe bysschop was inne.
Ryȝt welcome was þe messanger,
Þat was come from þe qwene so cleer,
Was off so noble kynne.
He took hym a lettre ful good speed,
And sayde: ‘Sere bysschop, haue þis and reed’;
And bad hym come wiþ hym.
Or he þe lettre hadde halff iredde,
For dool, hym þouȝte, hys herte bledde;
Þe teeres fyl ouyr hys chyn.
35
Þe bysschop bad sadele hys palfray:‘Also faste as þay may,
Bydde my men make hem ȝare;
And wendes before,’ þe bysschop dede say,
‘To my maneres in þe way;
For noþyng þat ȝe spare,
And loke, at ylke fyue mylys ende
A fresch hors þat I fynde,
Schod and noþyng bare;
Blyþe schal I neuere be,
Tyl I my weddyd broþer see,
To keuere hym out off care.’
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36
On nyne palfrays þe bysschop sprong,Ar it was day, from euensong—
In romaunce as we rede.
Sertaynly, as I ȝow telle,
On Londone-brygge ded doun felle
Þe messangeres stede.
‘Allas,’ he sayde, ‘þat I was born!
Now is my goode hors forlorn,
Was good at ylke a nede;
Ȝistyrday vpon þe grounde,
He was wurþ an hundryd pounde,
Ony kyng to lede.’
37
Þenne bespak þe erchebysschop,Oure gostly fadyr vndyr God,
Vnto þe messangere:
‘Lat be þy menyng off þy stede,
And þynk vpon oure mykyl nede,
Þe whylys þat we ben here;
For ȝiff þat I may my broþer borwe,
And bryngen hym out off mekyl sorwe,
Þou may make glad chere;
And þy warysoun I schal þe geue,
And God haue grauntyd þe to leue
Vnto an hundryd ȝere.’
38
Þe bysschop þenne nouȝt ne bod:He took hys hors, and forþ he rod
Into Westemynstyr so lyȝt;
Þe messanger on his foot alsoo:
Wiþ þe bysschop come no moo,
Neþer squyer ne knyȝt.
Vpon þe morwen þe kyng aros,
And takes þe way, to þe kyrke he gos,
As man off mekyl myȝt.
Wiþ hym wente boþe preest and clerk,
Þat mykyl cowde off Goddys werk,
To praye God for þe ryȝt.
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39
Whenne þat he to þe kyrke com;Tofore þe rode he knelyd anon,
And on hys knees he felle:
‘God, þat syt in Trynyte,
A bone þat þou graunte me,
Lord, as þou harewyd helle—
Gyltles men ȝiff þat þay be,
Þat are in my presoun free,
Forcursyd þere to ȝelle,
Off þe gylt and þay be clene,
Leue it moot on hem be sene,
Þat garte hem þere to dwelle.’
40
And whenne he hadde maad his prayer,He lokyd vp into þe qweer;
Þe erchebysschop sawȝ he stande.
He was forwondryd off þat caas,
And to hym he wente apas,
And took hym be þe hande.
‘Welcome’, he sayde, ‘þou erchebysschop,
Oure gostly fadyr vndyr God.’
He swoor be God leuande:
‘Weddyd broþer, weel moot þou spede,
For I hadde neuere so mekyl nede,
Siþ I took cros on hande.
41
‘Goode weddyd broþer, now turne þy rede;Doo nouȝt þyn owne blood to dede,
But ȝiff it wurþy were.
For hym þat weres þe corowne off þorn,
Lat me borwe hem tyl tomorn,
Þat we mowe enquere,
And weten alle be comoun asent
In þe playne parlement...
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42
‘Who is wurþy be schent.And, but ȝiff ȝe wole graunte my bone,
It schal vs rewe boþe or none,
Be God þat alle þyng lent.’
43
Þanne þe kyng wax wroþ as wynde,A wodere man myȝte no man fynde
Þan he began to bee:
He swoor oþis be sunne and mone:
‘Þey schole be drawen and hongyd or none—
Wiþ eyen þou schalt see.
Lay doun þy cros and þy staff,
Þy mytyr and þy ryng þat I þe gaff;
Out off my land þou flee!
Hyȝe þe faste out off my syȝt;
Wher I þe mete, þy deþ is dyȝt;
Non oþir þen schal it bee.’
44
Þenne bespak þat erchebysschop,Oure gostly fadyr vndyr God,
Smertly to þe kyng:
‘Weel I wot þat þou me gaff
Boþe þe cros and þe staff,
Þe mytyr and eke þe ryng;
My bysschopryche þou reues me,
And crystyndom forbede I þe:
Preest schal þer non syngge;
Neyþer maydynchyld ne knaue
Crystyndom schal þer non haue;
To care I schal þe brynge.
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45
‘I schal gare crye þorwȝ ylke a tounÞat kyrkys schole be broken doun,
And stoken agayn wiþ þorn.
And þou schalt lygge in an old dyke,
As it were an heretyke.
Allas, þat þou were born!
46
‘Ȝiff þou be ded, þat I may see,Asoylyd schalt þou neuere bee;
Þanne is þy soule in sorwe.
And I schal wenden in vncouþe lond,
And gete me stronge men of hond;
My broþir ȝit schal I borwe.
I schal brynge vpon þy lond
Hungyr and þyrst ful strong,
Cold, drouȝþe, and sorwe;
I schal nouȝt leue on þy lond
Wurþ þe gloues on þy hond,
To begge ne to borwe.’
47
Þe bysschop has his leue tan.By þat his men were comen ylkan:
Þey sayden: ‘Sere, haue good day.’
He entryd into Flete-strete;
Wiþ lordys off Yngelond gan he mete
Vpon a nobyl aray.
On here knees þey kneleden adoun,
And prayden hym off hys benysoun;
He nykkyd hem wiþ nay.
Neyþer off cros neyþer off ryng
Hadde þey non kyns wetyng;
And þanne a knyȝt gan say.
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48
A knyȝt þanne spak with mylde voys:‘Sere, where is þy ryng? where is þy croys?
Is it fro þe tan?’
Þanne he sayde: ‘Ȝoure cursyd kyng
Haþ me refft off al my þyng,
And off al my worldly wan;
And I haue entyrdytyd Yngelond:
Þer schal no preest synge masse with hond,
Chyld schal be crystenyd non;
But ȝiff he graunte me þat knyȝt,
His wyff and chyldryn fayr and bryȝt:
He wolde with wrong hem slon.’
49
Þe knyȝt sayde: ‘Bysschop, turne agayn;Off þy body we are ful fayn;
Þy broþir ȝit schole we borwe.
And, but he graunte vs oure bone,
Hys presoun schal be broken soone,
Hymselff to mekyl sorwe.
We schole drawe doun boþe halle and boures;
Boþe hys castelles and hys toures,
Þey schole lygge lowe and holewe.
Þouȝ he be kyng and were þe corown,
We scholen hym sette in a deep dunioun:
Oure crystyndom we wole folewe.’
50
Þanne, as þey spoken off þis þyng,Þer comen twoo knyȝtys from þe kyng,
And sayden: ‘Bysschop, abyde,
And haue þy cros and þy ryng,
And welcome, whyl þat þou wylt lyng,
It is nouȝt for to hyde—
Here he grauntys þe þe knyȝt,
Hys wyff and chyldryn fayr and bryȝt;
Again I rede þou ryde.
He prayes þe pur charyte
Þat he myȝte asoylyd be,
And Yngelond long and wyde.’
84
51
Hereoff þe bysschop was ful fayn,And turnys hys brydyl and wendes agayn—
Barouns gunne wiþ hym ryde—
Vnto þe Brokene-Cros off ston;
Þedyr com þe kyng ful soone anon,
And þere he gan abyde.
Vpon hys knees he knelyd adoun,
And prayde þe bysschop off benysoun;
And he gaff hym þat tyde.
Wiþ holy watyr and orysoun,
He asoylyd þe kyng þat weryd þe coroun,
And Yngelond long and wyde.
52
Þenne sayde þe kyng anon ryȝt:‘Here I graunte þe þat knyȝt,
And hys sones free,
And my sustyr hende in halle.
Þou hast sauyd here lyuys alle:
Iblessyd moot þou bee.’
Þenne sayde þe bysschop also soone:
‘And I schal geuen swylke a dome—
Wiþ eyen þat þou schalt see—
Ȝiff þay be gylty off þat dede,
Sorrere þe doome þay may drede,
Þan schewe here schame to me.
53
Whanne þe bysschop hadde sayd soo,A gret fyr was maad ryȝt þoo,
In romaunce as we rede—
It was set, þat men myȝte knawe,
Nyne plowȝ-lengþe on rawe,
As red as ony glede.
Þanne sayde þe kyng: ‘What may þis mene?’
‘Sere, off gylt and þay be clene,
Þis doom hem thar nouȝt drede.’
Þanne sayde þe good kyng Athelston:
‘An hard doome now is þis on:
God graunte vs alle weel to spede!’
85
54
Þey fetten forþ sere Egelan—A trewere eerl was þer nan—
Before þe fyr so bryȝt.
From hym þey token þe rede scarlet,
Boþe hosyn and schoon þat weren hym met,
Þat fel al for a knyȝt.
Nyne syþe þe bysschop halewid þe way,
Þat his weddyd broþer scholde goo þat day,
To praye God for þe ryȝt.
He was vnblemeschyd foot and hand;
Þat sawȝ þe lordes off þe land,
And þankyd God off hys myȝt.
55
Þey offeryd hym with mylde chereVnto seynt Powlys heyȝe awtere,
Þat mekyl was off myȝt.
Doun vpon hys knees he felle,
And þankyd God þat harewede helle,
And hys modyr so bryȝt.
56
And ȝit þe bysschop þo gan say:‘Now schal þe chyldryn gon þe way
Þat þe fadyr ȝede.’
Fro hem þey tooke þe rede scarlete,
Þe hosen and schoon þat weren hem mete,
And al here worldly wede.
Þe fyr was boþe hydous and red,
Þe chyldryn swownyd as þey were ded;
Þe bysschop tyl hem ȝede;
Wiþ careful herte on hem gan look;
Be hys hand he hem vp took:
‘Chyldryn, haue ȝe no drede.’
86
57
Þanne þe chyldryn stood and lowȝ:‘Sere, þe fyr is cold inowȝ.’
Þorwȝout þey wente apase.
Þey weren vnblemeschyd foot and hand:
Þat sawȝ þe lordys off þe land,
And þankyd God off his grace.
58
Þey offeryd hem with mylde chereTo seynt Poulys hyȝe awtere;
Þis myracle schewyd was þere.
And ȝit þe bysschop efft gan say:
‘Now schal þe countasse goo þe way,
Þere þat þe chyldryn were.’
59
Þey fetten forþ þe lady mylde;Sche was ful gret igon with chylde,
In romaunce as we rede—
Before þe fyr when þat sche come,
To Iesu Cryst he prayde a bone,
Þat leet his woundys blede:
‘Now, God, lat neuere þe kyngys foo
Quyk out off þe fyr goo.’
Þeroff hadde sche no drede.
60
Whenne sche hadde maad here prayer,Sche was brouȝt before þe feer,
Þat brennyd boþe fayr and lyȝt.
Sche wente fro þe lengþe into þe þrydde;
Stylle sche stood þe fyr amydde,
And callyd it merye and bryȝt.
Harde schourys þenne took here stronge
Boþe in bak and eke in wombe;
And siþþen it fel at syȝt.
87
61
Whenne þat here paynys slakyd was,And sche hadde passyd þat hydous pas,
Here nose barst on bloode.
Sche was vnblemeschyd foot and hand:
Þat sawȝ þe lordys off þe land,
And þankyd God on rode.
Þey comaundyd men here away to drawe,
As it was þe landys lawe;
And ladyys þanne tyl here ȝode.
Sche knelyd doun vpon þe ground,
And þere was born seynt Edemound:
Iblessyd be þat foode!
62
And whanne þis chyld iborn was,It was brouȝt into þe plas;
It was boþe hool and sound.
Boþe þe kyng and bysschop free
Þey crystnyd þe chyld, þat men myȝt see,
And callyd it Edemound.
‘Halff my land,’ he sayde, ‘I þe geue,
Also longe as I may leue,
Wiþ markys and with pounde,
And al afftyr my dede—
Yngelond to wysse and rede.’
Now iblessyd be þat stounde!
63
Þenne sayde þe bysschop to þe kyng:‘Sere, who made þis grete lesyng,
And who wrouȝte al þis bale?’
Þanne sayde þe kyng: ‘So moot I thee,
Þat schalt þou neuere wete for me,
In burgh neyþer in sale;
For I haue sworn be seynt Anne
Þat I schal neuere bewreye þat manne,
Þat me gan telle þat tale.
Þey arn sauyd þorwȝ þy red;
Now lat al þis be ded,
And kepe þis counseyl hale.’
88
64
Þenne swoor þe bysschop: ‘So moot I the,Now I haue power and dignyte
For to asoyle þe as clene
As þou were houen off þe fount-ston;
Trustly trowe þou þervpon,
And holde it for no wene:
I swere boþe be book and belle,
But ȝiff þou me his name telle,
Þe ryȝt doom schal I deme:
Þyselff schalt goo þe ryȝte way
Þat þy broþer wente today,
Þouȝ it þe euele beseme.’
65
Þenne sayde þe kyng: ‘So moot I the,Be schryffte off mouþe telle I it þe,
Þerto I am vnblyue—
Sertaynly, it is non oþir
But Wymound, oure weddyd broþer;
He wole neuere þryue.’
‘Allas,’ sayde þe bysschop þan,
‘I wende he were þe treweste man,
Þat euere ȝit leuyd on lyue.
And he wiþ þis ateynt may bee,
He schal be hongyd on trees þree,
And drawen with hors fyue.’
66
And whenne þat þe bysschop þe soþe hadeÞat þat traytour þat lesyng made,
He callyd a messangere,
Bad hym to Douere þat he scholde founde,
For to fette þat eerl Wymounde:
(Þat traytour has no pere!)
89
Boþe ihangyd and to-drawe.
(Doo as I þe lere!)
Þe countasse is in presoun done;
Schal sche neuere out off presoun come,
But ȝiff it be on bere.’
67
Now wiþ þe messanger was no badde;He took his hors, as þe bysschop radde,
To Douere tyl þat he come.
Þe eerl in hys halle he fand:
He took hym þe lettre in his hand
On hyȝ, wolde he nouȝt wone:
‘Sere Egelane and his sones be slawe,
Boþe ihangyd and to-drawe:
Þou getyst þat eerldome.
Þe countasse is in presoun done;
Schal sche neuere more out come,
Ne see neyþer sunne ne mone.’
68
Þanne þat eerl made hym glade,And þankyd God þat lesyng was made:
‘It haþ gete me þis eerldome.’
He sayde: ‘Felawe, ryȝt weel þou bee!
Haue here besauntys good plente
For þyn hedyr-come.’
Þanne þe messanger made his mon:
‘Sere, off ȝoure goode hors lende me on:
Now graunte me my bone;
For ȝystyrday deyde my nobyl stede,
On ȝoure arende as I ȝede,
Be þe way as I come.’
90
69
‘Myn hors be fatte and cornfed,And off þy lyff I am adred,’
Þat eerl sayde to hym þan;
‘Þanne Ȝiff myn hors scholde þe sloo,
My lord þe kyng wolde be ful woo
To lese swylk a man.’
70
Þe messanger ȝit he brouȝte a stede,On off þe beste at ylke a nede,
Þat euere on grounde dede gange,
Sadelyd and brydelyd at þe beste.
Þe messanger was ful preste,
Wyȝtly on hym he sprange.
‘Sere,’ he sayde, ‘haue good day;
Þou schalt come whan þou may;
I schal make þe kyng at hande.’
With sporys faste he strook þe stede;
To Grauysende he come good spede,
Is fourty myle to fande.
71
Þere þe messanger þe traytour abood,And seþþyn boþe insame þey rod
To Westemynstyr wone.
In þe palays þere þay lyȝt;
Into þe halle þey come ful ryȝt,
And mette wiþ Athelstone.
He wolde haue kyssyd his lord swete.
He sayde: ‘Traytour, nouȝt ȝit! lete!
Be God and be seynt Jhon,
For þy falsnesse and þy lesyng
I slowȝ myn heyr, scholde haue ben kyng,
When my lyf hadde ben gon.’
91
72
Þere he denyyd faste þe kyng,Þat he made neuere þat lesyng,
Among hys peres alle.
Þe bysschop has hym be þe hand tan;
Forþ insame þey are gan
Into þe wyde halle.
Myȝte he neuere with crafft ne gynne,
Gare hym schryuen off hys synne,
For nouȝt þat myȝte befalle.
Þenne sayde þe goode kyng Athelston:
‘Lat hym to þe fyr gon,
To preue þe treweþe wiþ alle.’
73
Whenne þe kyng hadde sayd soo,A gret fyr was maad þoo,
In romaunce as we rede—
It was set, þat men myȝten knawe,
Nyne plowȝ-lenge on rawe,
As red as ony glede.
Nyne syþis þe bysschop halewes þe way,
Þat þat traytour schole goo þat day:
Þe wers hym gan to spede.
He wente fro þe lengþe into þe þrydde,
And doun he fel þe fyr amydde:
Hys eyen wolde hym nouȝt lede.
74
Þan þe eerlys chyldryn were war ful smerte,And wyȝtly to þe traytour sterte,
And out off þe fyr hym hade;
And sworen boþe be book and belle:
‘Or þat þou deye, þou schalt telle
Why þou þat lesyng made.’
92
Now I wot I am but ded:
I telle ȝow noþyng gladde—
Certayn, þer was non oþer wyte:
He louyd hym to mekyl and me to lyte;
Þerfore enuye I hadde.’
75
Whenne þat traytour so hadde sayde,Fyue good hors to hym were tayde,
Alle men myȝten see wiþ yȝe—
Þey drowen hym þorwȝ ylke a strete,
And seþþyn to þe Elmes, I ȝow hete,
And hongyd hym ful hyȝe.
Was þer neuere man so hardy,
Þat durste felle hys false body:
Þis hadde he for hys lye.
Now Iesu, þat is heuene-kyng,
Leue neuere traytour haue betere endyng,
But swych dome for to dye.
Explicit.
| Athelston | |