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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De castello ffortygerny in Wallia. |
 | The Story of England |  |
De castello ffortygerny in Wallia.
He dide sende after þe clergye,
Þe wysest men of astronomye;
At hem alle, conseil he took,
‘How he myghtym safliest lok
‘A-geyn his enemis for to fende,
‘ȝyf host byseged hym as he wende.’
Þus redde hym þenne his conseillours:
‘To make a strong castel wiþ tours
‘Þat non wyþ force mighte hit take,
‘Ne wyþ engyns hit perebrake;
‘& when hit [was] dight at his auys,
‘To warnyschit ageyn his enemis.’
In fele stedes þenne ches he
Where was best & most ese.
On an hil hight Mount de Tyre,
Þer-on was his moste desire;
Masons brought he þenne þer-tille,
Bygonne þat castelwerk o þat hille;
Morter þey made, & ston dide fet,
& spedde hem faste þer-on to set.
Alle þat þey made a day vpright,
ffallen was doun vpon þat nyght;
Often þey les al þeyr iornes,
Þat what [þei] made, lay doun on knes.
Þat saw þe kyng hit misferde so;
Þe maistres he dide eft com hym to,
& preide þem telle ‘what þyng hit deres
‘Þat þe erþe þys werk ne beres;
‘& ȝif þey mighte, þey scholde fonde
‘To wyte what myghte don hit stonde.’
Þys wyse maistres þer bokes kest,
Why þat werk ne wolde nought lest;
Þey fondyt þenne in þer musyng,
A gret selcouþ, & telde þe kyng:
“ȝyf ani man myghte a child fynde
“Þat hadde no fader of mankynde,
“ȝyf he were taken & slayn sone,
“& menged his blod wyþ morter & stone,
“Vpon þat morter þat blod wer inne,
“Þat werk men mygh[t] safly bygynne.”
Þe kyng als sone his sonde sent,
ffro toun to toun þorow Walys went;
In ilka contre, þorow euery schire,
He hadde spyes for to spyre;
& in oþer landes seeres
Sente þe kyng his messegers:
Two to-gyder, aboute þey ȝede,
Þe bettere for to spirre & spede.
Two of þyse wente þorow Walys,
Of swylk a child ȝif þey herde tales.
So fer in to þe lond þey nam,
Atte last to Kermerdyn þey cam:
By-fore þe ȝates y þe way
Sawe þey manye childre play;
Bytwyxt to þer a stryf þey herde,
Of grete reprefs ilk oþer onswerde;
Þey wyþ-stode, & gon abyde
ffor to here þe children chide.
When wraþe bygynneþ, þen comeþ vmbreyd;
Al þat men wot, ys þen forþ seyd;
So dide þey þat weren wroþe,—
Dynabus, Merlyn, (þus hight þey boþe,)—
Þe wysest men of astronomye;
At hem alle, conseil he took,
‘How he myghtym safliest lok
‘A-geyn his enemis for to fende,
‘ȝyf host byseged hym as he wende.’
Þus redde hym þenne his conseillours:
‘To make a strong castel wiþ tours
‘Þat non wyþ force mighte hit take,
‘Ne wyþ engyns hit perebrake;
280
‘To warnyschit ageyn his enemis.’
In fele stedes þenne ches he
Where was best & most ese.
On an hil hight Mount de Tyre,
Þer-on was his moste desire;
Masons brought he þenne þer-tille,
Bygonne þat castelwerk o þat hille;
Morter þey made, & ston dide fet,
& spedde hem faste þer-on to set.
Alle þat þey made a day vpright,
ffallen was doun vpon þat nyght;
Often þey les al þeyr iornes,
Þat what [þei] made, lay doun on knes.
Þat saw þe kyng hit misferde so;
Þe maistres he dide eft com hym to,
& preide þem telle ‘what þyng hit deres
‘Þat þe erþe þys werk ne beres;
‘& ȝif þey mighte, þey scholde fonde
‘To wyte what myghte don hit stonde.’
Þys wyse maistres þer bokes kest,
Why þat werk ne wolde nought lest;
Þey fondyt þenne in þer musyng,
A gret selcouþ, & telde þe kyng:
“ȝyf ani man myghte a child fynde
“Þat hadde no fader of mankynde,
“ȝyf he were taken & slayn sone,
“& menged his blod wyþ morter & stone,
“Vpon þat morter þat blod wer inne,
“Þat werk men mygh[t] safly bygynne.”
281
ffro toun to toun þorow Walys went;
In ilka contre, þorow euery schire,
He hadde spyes for to spyre;
& in oþer landes seeres
Sente þe kyng his messegers:
Two to-gyder, aboute þey ȝede,
Þe bettere for to spirre & spede.
Two of þyse wente þorow Walys,
Of swylk a child ȝif þey herde tales.
So fer in to þe lond þey nam,
Atte last to Kermerdyn þey cam:
By-fore þe ȝates y þe way
Sawe þey manye childre play;
Bytwyxt to þer a stryf þey herde,
Of grete reprefs ilk oþer onswerde;
Þey wyþ-stode, & gon abyde
ffor to here þe children chide.
When wraþe bygynneþ, þen comeþ vmbreyd;
Al þat men wot, ys þen forþ seyd;
So dide þey þat weren wroþe,—
Dynabus, Merlyn, (þus hight þey boþe,)—
Dynabus seyde, “Let be, Merlyn!
“ȝyf þou me vmbreyde, þe schame ys þyn.
“Y am born of heyer kynde
“Þan any man of þe may fynde.
“Hit aughte þe schame in al þy lyue
“Þat þou, Merlyn, wyþ me wilt stryue;
“ffor y am come of kynges blod,
“& þou, Merlyn, art nought so god;
“Þy kynde & myn ys no þyng euen,
“Ne þy fader canstow nought neuen,
“Ne neuere hym seye, ne hym ne knew,
“Ne of what kynde þat he grew!
“Þer wot no man of wham þart come,
“Þer-fore y halde þe no mannes sone!”
Þe messegers lystn̄ed, & þought
Þat swylk a child hadde þey sought;
Þey spird at men of þat cite,
Þat Dynabus seyde, ȝyf hit myght be,
Þat ffader wystey hym haue non.
Þey of þe cite seyde ylkon,
“His moder we knowe, þat hym bare;
“Of his fader ne wyte we whare;
“Hys moder kynde alle we knawe,
“Bot his ffader we neuere sawe.
“Scheo was þe kynges doughter, Dymenice,
“Of Walys he hadde half partye;
“Scho ys nonne of relygion
“At Seint Petres kirke of þis toun.”
Þey ȝede to þe Meyre of Kermerdyn,
O þe kynges halue asked Merlyn
Þat neuere ȝit no fader had;
His moder also wyþ hym þey lad.
Þe Meyre þen wolde þem nought werne,
Bot sped þem on þer wey ful ȝerne.
Þey come to þe kyng ffortyger,
& he welcomed hem on faire maner:
“ȝyf þou me vmbreyde, þe schame ys þyn.
“Y am born of heyer kynde
“Þan any man of þe may fynde.
“Hit aughte þe schame in al þy lyue
“Þat þou, Merlyn, wyþ me wilt stryue;
“ffor y am come of kynges blod,
“& þou, Merlyn, art nought so god;
“Þy kynde & myn ys no þyng euen,
“Ne þy fader canstow nought neuen,
“Ne neuere hym seye, ne hym ne knew,
282
“Þer wot no man of wham þart come,
“Þer-fore y halde þe no mannes sone!”
Þe messegers lystn̄ed, & þought
Þat swylk a child hadde þey sought;
Þey spird at men of þat cite,
Þat Dynabus seyde, ȝyf hit myght be,
Þat ffader wystey hym haue non.
Þey of þe cite seyde ylkon,
“His moder we knowe, þat hym bare;
“Of his fader ne wyte we whare;
“Hys moder kynde alle we knawe,
“Bot his ffader we neuere sawe.
“Scheo was þe kynges doughter, Dymenice,
“Of Walys he hadde half partye;
“Scho ys nonne of relygion
“At Seint Petres kirke of þis toun.”
Þey ȝede to þe Meyre of Kermerdyn,
O þe kynges halue asked Merlyn
Þat neuere ȝit no fader had;
His moder also wyþ hym þey lad.
Þe Meyre þen wolde þem nought werne,
Bot sped þem on þer wey ful ȝerne.
Þey come to þe kyng ffortyger,
& he welcomed hem on faire maner:
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