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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Christus natus est in tempore Kymbelyny. |
 | The Story of England |  |
Christus natus est in tempore Kymbelyny.
Of Kymbelyn to childre left,
Þat þe Romayns þer truage reft.
Wyder, hight þe eldeste broþer;
Arwygar, men calde þat oþer.
Sire Wyder hadde þe heritage.
A man he was of gret corage,
Proud he was, & ouer stout;
Þe Romayns nolde he loue ne lout,
Bot whare so euere he hem fond,
He dide hem sone voyde þe lond.
Claudeus was þan emperour,
Of Rome maister gouernour:
Scorn hym þought, & swor his heued
Þer truage schold nought so be leued;
He scholde haue hit a-geyn ful wel,
Deserite Wyder of ylka del.
Of Romayns he gadered an host,
& hyed fast til Bretaigne cost.
Hauene he tok at Porcestre—
‘Kaer Perys’ hight þan þat estre,—
He wende haue taken þe toun in hast,
Bot he failled of his [t]ast.
Þan tened Claudius [w]iþal,
Byfore þe ȝate dide make a wal,
Þat no vitaille schuld come til toun:
To enfamyn hem was þencheson.
Bot Wyder & Arwygarus
Wyþ twenty þousand mad hem rescus.
Sire Claudius & his partie
ffledde faste to þer nauye;
Þe beste Romayns in batailles seer
Stoden somme ageyn Wyder,
& foughte wyþ hym longe stounde;
Of boþe side ley ded on grounde.
Þat þe Romayns þer truage reft.
Wyder, hight þe eldeste broþer;
Arwygar, men calde þat oþer.
Sire Wyder hadde þe heritage.
A man he was of gret corage,
Proud he was, & ouer stout;
Þe Romayns nolde he loue ne lout,
Bot whare so euere he hem fond,
190
Claudeus was þan emperour,
Of Rome maister gouernour:
Scorn hym þought, & swor his heued
Þer truage schold nought so be leued;
He scholde haue hit a-geyn ful wel,
Deserite Wyder of ylka del.
Of Romayns he gadered an host,
& hyed fast til Bretaigne cost.
Hauene he tok at Porcestre—
‘Kaer Perys’ hight þan þat estre,—
He wende haue taken þe toun in hast,
Bot he failled of his [t]ast.
Þan tened Claudius [w]iþal,
Byfore þe ȝate dide make a wal,
Þat no vitaille schuld come til toun:
To enfamyn hem was þencheson.
Bot Wyder & Arwygarus
Wyþ twenty þousand mad hem rescus.
Sire Claudius & his partie
ffledde faste to þer nauye;
Þe beste Romayns in batailles seer
Stoden somme ageyn Wyder,
& foughte wyþ hym longe stounde;
Of boþe side ley ded on grounde.
A Romayn þer was, a noble baroun,
His name þey calde sire Hamoun,
He was þemperores conseillour,
A noble knyght he was in stour;
He houed, & byheld sire Wyders,
How he bar hym stout & fers,
Romayns to felle, Romayns to slo,—
Vnneþe ascaped hym any fro,—
How wysly his folk he ledde,
& how in batailles he þem spredde,
Wyþouten los slow þe Romayns,
& syn relied his men agayns.
He saw wel—weel he mought hit leue,—
Þat oþer truage wold he no geue,
Ne þe Romayns schuldit neuere wynne
Whyle Wyder rengned kyng þer-ynne;
He þoughte þorow what manere þyng
He myght best slo Wyder þe kyng.
Þat ylke noble Hamon Romayn,
Dispoilled a Breton þat he fond slayn;
Wyþ þe armes of þat Brutoun
He armed hym seluen Hamoun,
& went þen o þe Bretons syde:
Als þey rod, so gan he ryde.
[Þe] armes deseyued hem ylkadel,
& of þer langage he spak ful wel,—
He had lered at our hostagers
Þat were at Rome truagers.—
He calde þe Breton by þer name,
& þey answered agayn þe same,
Til he cam to þe kyng Wyder,
Alwey he neyghed hym ner & ner;
Þys Hamon rod ay side by side,
To sle þe kyng his tyme tabide.
Þe kyng til hym gaf no tent;
Þat saw Hamoun, a knyf out hent,
Vnder þarmure þe kyng he styked,
Priuely fro þem alle he pryked.
His name þey calde sire Hamoun,
He was þemperores conseillour,
A noble knyght he was in stour;
He houed, & byheld sire Wyders,
How he bar hym stout & fers,
191
Vnneþe ascaped hym any fro,—
How wysly his folk he ledde,
& how in batailles he þem spredde,
Wyþouten los slow þe Romayns,
& syn relied his men agayns.
He saw wel—weel he mought hit leue,—
Þat oþer truage wold he no geue,
Ne þe Romayns schuldit neuere wynne
Whyle Wyder rengned kyng þer-ynne;
He þoughte þorow what manere þyng
He myght best slo Wyder þe kyng.
Þat ylke noble Hamon Romayn,
Dispoilled a Breton þat he fond slayn;
Wyþ þe armes of þat Brutoun
He armed hym seluen Hamoun,
& went þen o þe Bretons syde:
Als þey rod, so gan he ryde.
[Þe] armes deseyued hem ylkadel,
& of þer langage he spak ful wel,—
He had lered at our hostagers
Þat were at Rome truagers.—
He calde þe Breton by þer name,
& þey answered agayn þe same,
Til he cam to þe kyng Wyder,
Alwey he neyghed hym ner & ner;
Þys Hamon rod ay side by side,
To sle þe kyng his tyme tabide.
Þe kyng til hym gaf no tent;
192
Vnder þarmure þe kyng he styked,
Priuely fro þem alle he pryked.
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