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The poems of John Audelay

Edited with introduction, notes and glossary [by Ella Keats Whiting]
Audelay, John

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Audite hec, omnes gentes: hanc epistolam scripsit Dominus Ihesus Christus manibus suis et misit in siuitatem Gazon vbi ego Petrus primum episcopatum accepi.
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In die epephanis &c.
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39

De rege nostro Henrico Sexto.

A! perles Pryns to þe we þray,
Saue our kyng boþ nyȝt and day.
Fore he is ful ȝong, tender of age,
Semele to se, o bold corage,
Louele and lofte of his lenage,
Boþ perles prince and kyng veray.
His gracious granseres and his grawndame,
His fader and moderis of kyngis þay came;
Was neuer a worþear prynce of name,
So exelent in al our day.
His fader fore loue of mayd Kateryn,
In Fraunce he wroȝt turment and tene;
His loue hee sayd hit schuld not ben,
And send him ballis him with to play.
Þen was he wyse in wars with alle,
And taȝt Franchemen to plai at þe balle;
With tenes hold he ferd ham halle;
To castelles and setis þi floyn away.
194

To Harflete a sege he layd anon,
And cast a bal vnto þe towne;
Þe Frenchemen swere be se and sun,
Hit was þe fynd þat mad þat fray.
Anon þai toke ham to cownsele;
Oure gracious kyng þai wold asayle;
At Agyncowrt at þat patayle,
Þe floure of Frawnce he fel þat day.
Þe kyng of Frawns þen was agast;
Mesagers to him send in hast,
Fore wele he west hit was bot wast
Hem to witstond in hone way.
And prayd hym to sese of his outrage,
And take Kateryn to mareage;
Al Frawnce to him schuld do homage,
And croune him kyng afftyr his day.
Of Frawnce he mad him anon regent,
And wedid Kateren in his present;
Into Englond anon he went,
And cround our quene in ryal aray.
Of quen Kateryn our kyng was borne,
To saue our ryȝt þat was forelorne,
Oure faders in Frawns had won befor[n]e;
Þai han hit hold mone a day.
Þus was his fader a conqueroure,
And wan his moder with gret onoure;
Now may þe kyng bere þe floure
Of kyngis and kyngdams in vche cuntre.
195

On him schal fal þe prophece,
Þat haþ ben sayd of Kyng Herre,
Þe hole cros wyn or he dye,
Þat Crist halud on Goodfryday.
Al wo and werres he schal a-cese,
And set alle reams in rest and pese,
And turne to Cristyndam al heþynes;
Now grawnt him hit so be may.
Pray we þat Lord is Lord of alle
To saue our kyng his reme ryal,
And let neuer myschip vppon him falle,
Ne false traytoure him to betray.
I pray ȝoue, seris, of ȝour gentre,
Syng þis carol reuerently,
Fore hit is mad of Kyng Herre;
Gret ned fore him we han to pray.
Ȝif he fare wele, wele schul we be,
Or ellis we may be ful sore,
Fore him schal wepe mone an e;
Þus prophecis þe blynd Awdlay.
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