The Story of England by Robert Manning of Brunne, A.D. 1338. Edited from mss. at Lambeth Palace and the Inner Temple, by Frederick J. Furnivall |
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 | The Story of England |  |
Gurmound soughte faste & spyrede,
Þe kyng to haue, mykel he desyred;
Carice to folewe, faste he spedde,
& euere Carice byfore hym fledde;
To Circestre algate he wan,
& Gurmound hym folewede, þe Aufrican,
Byseged þe toun a ful long while,
& brente hit wyþ a queynte gyle.
He telleþ first of a meschaunce
Of kyng Lowys cosyn of ffraunce,—
His name was cald Isambert—
He dide hym selue a folie apert;
To Gurmound cam, & wyþ hym spak,
His Cristendom fursok & brak,
To venge hym on his em Lowys
Þat hadde hym flemed out of Parys.
A deuel he was—þe soþe was sene—
Our God to fursake, hys em to tene.
Þe kyng to haue, mykel he desyred;
Carice to folewe, faste he spedde,
& euere Carice byfore hym fledde;
To Circestre algate he wan,
& Gurmound hym folewede, þe Aufrican,
Byseged þe toun a ful long while,
& brente hit wyþ a queynte gyle.
He telleþ first of a meschaunce
Of kyng Lowys cosyn of ffraunce,—
His name was cald Isambert—
He dide hym selue a folie apert;
To Gurmound cam, & wyþ hym spak,
His Cristendom fursok & brak,
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Þat hadde hym flemed out of Parys.
A deuel he was—þe soþe was sene—
Our God to fursake, hys em to tene.
Gurmound aspied oueral ilk estre
How best he mighte bisege Circestre;
Tentes & pauilons he sette,
Engyns dide mak & fette;
Þe toun he seged so straite aboute
Þat þey wyþynne myght naught oute.
Þey wyþynne ageyn þem kast,
Wyþ tymber & ston þey closed þem fast,—
Engines on walles þey hadde ynowe,
Out of carneles, arblastes drowe,—
On dayes þey wroughte on þer clos,
On nyghtes þey woke for þeir foos.
Þough al þer clos were right god,
& skyle þey seye & vnderstod,
Þat atte laste,—nylde þey, wylde,—
Þe toun byhoued þem nedly ȝelde;
Þey wyste hit wel, & nought ne wende
Þe toun for euere þey mighte defende.
Nought for þan þey were dismayed,
ffor gyle al day þey were affrayed.
How best he mighte bisege Circestre;
Tentes & pauilons he sette,
Engyns dide mak & fette;
Þe toun he seged so straite aboute
Þat þey wyþynne myght naught oute.
Þey wyþynne ageyn þem kast,
Wyþ tymber & ston þey closed þem fast,—
Engines on walles þey hadde ynowe,
Out of carneles, arblastes drowe,—
On dayes þey wroughte on þer clos,
On nyghtes þey woke for þeir foos.
Þough al þer clos were right god,
& skyle þey seye & vnderstod,
Þat atte laste,—nylde þey, wylde,—
Þe toun byhoued þem nedly ȝelde;
Þey wyste hit wel, & nought ne wende
Þe toun for euere þey mighte defende.
Nought for þan þey were dismayed,
ffor gyle al day þey were affrayed.
| The Story of England | |