The Poetical Works of John Skelton principally according to the edition of the Rev. Alexander Dyce. In three volumes |
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| II. |
 | The Poetical Works of John Skelton |  |
Lo, these fonde sottes
And tratlynge Scottes,
How thei are blynde
In theyr owne mynde,
And wyll not know
Theyr ouerthrow
At Branxton more!
They are so stowre,
So frantyke mad,
They say they had
And wan the felde
With spere and shelde:
That is as trew
As blacke is blew
And grene is gray.
What euer they say,
Jemmy is ded
And closed in led,
That was theyr owne kynge:
Fy on that wynnynge!
And tratlynge Scottes,
How thei are blynde
In theyr owne mynde,
And wyll not know
Theyr ouerthrow
At Branxton more!
They are so stowre,
So frantyke mad,
They say they had
And wan the felde
With spere and shelde:
203
As blacke is blew
And grene is gray.
What euer they say,
Jemmy is ded
And closed in led,
That was theyr owne kynge:
Fy on that wynnynge!
At Floddon hyllys
Our bowys, our byllys,
Slewe all the floure
Of theyr honoure.
Are not these Scottys
Folys and sottys,
Suche boste to make,
To prate and crake,
To face, to brace,
All voyde of grace,
So prowde of hart,
So ouerthwart,
So out of frame,
So voyde of shame,
As it is enrolde,
Wrytten and tolde
Within this quayre?
Who lyst to repayre,
And therein reed,
Shall fynde indeed
A mad rekenynge,
Consyderynge al thynge,
That the Scottis may synge
Fy on the wynnynge!
Our bowys, our byllys,
Slewe all the floure
Of theyr honoure.
Are not these Scottys
Folys and sottys,
Suche boste to make,
To prate and crake,
To face, to brace,
All voyde of grace,
So prowde of hart,
So ouerthwart,
So out of frame,
So voyde of shame,
As it is enrolde,
Wrytten and tolde
Within this quayre?
Who lyst to repayre,
And therein reed,
Shall fynde indeed
A mad rekenynge,
Consyderynge al thynge,
204
Fy on the wynnynge!
| The Poetical Works of John Skelton | |