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 |  |
Als Cadwalyn was in Wales,
Of þys was teld hym many tales,
Þat Edwyn for þys despit
Dide hym coroune al so tyt.
Cadwalyn herd hit sone seye;
Til Humber wiþ host he tok þe weye,
& on Edwyn gan to renne,
Men to slo, tounes to brenne.
Edwyn he þoughte desherite,
& ȝyf he mighte, his heued of smite;
But Edwyn was of ful gret wille,
He wolde nought fle for drede ne ille,
Ne he wolde neyþer trewe ne pees;
Bataille he wolde, & þer-to ches.
Wyþ Cadwaly so harde he met,
& Cadwalyn fley atte ferste set;
Toward þe southe he wolde haue fled,
But Edwyn his weye wyþ-sperd;
& Cadwalyn fley hym byside,
In busches & wodes hym for to hyde;
By sties & paþes þat he fond,
So he fley in to Scotlond,
& euere Edwyn after fley.
Cadwalyn, gret pyne he drey;
A schip he tok, til Irlond went,
But Edwyn mighte hym neuere hent,
But schop hym swyþe wiþ alle haste,
Cadwalynes londes for to waste.
Casteles dide he bete right doun,
Contres destruied, toun by toun;
Al his lond he þorow ȝede,
Til alle he dide sorewe & drede.
Of Bryanes sister men hym told,
At Wircestre scheo was in hold;
Edwyn þere hure out toke,
To ȝork he sent hure for to loke;
Wyþ his wyf scheo was seruaunt,
Mayden gentil & auenaunt.
Of þys was teld hym many tales,
Þat Edwyn for þys despit
Dide hym coroune al so tyt.
Cadwalyn herd hit sone seye;
Til Humber wiþ host he tok þe weye,
& on Edwyn gan to renne,
Men to slo, tounes to brenne.
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& ȝyf he mighte, his heued of smite;
But Edwyn was of ful gret wille,
He wolde nought fle for drede ne ille,
Ne he wolde neyþer trewe ne pees;
Bataille he wolde, & þer-to ches.
Wyþ Cadwaly so harde he met,
& Cadwalyn fley atte ferste set;
Toward þe southe he wolde haue fled,
But Edwyn his weye wyþ-sperd;
& Cadwalyn fley hym byside,
In busches & wodes hym for to hyde;
By sties & paþes þat he fond,
So he fley in to Scotlond,
& euere Edwyn after fley.
Cadwalyn, gret pyne he drey;
A schip he tok, til Irlond went,
But Edwyn mighte hym neuere hent,
But schop hym swyþe wiþ alle haste,
Cadwalynes londes for to waste.
Casteles dide he bete right doun,
Contres destruied, toun by toun;
Al his lond he þorow ȝede,
Til alle he dide sorewe & drede.
Of Bryanes sister men hym told,
At Wircestre scheo was in hold;
Edwyn þere hure out toke,
To ȝork he sent hure for to loke;
Wyþ his wyf scheo was seruaunt,
Mayden gentil & auenaunt.
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