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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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Dicta Merlyny.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Dicta Merlyny.

Þen seide Merlyn: “Sire kyng! þou has
“Sent after me; sey me þy cas!
“What þou wilt, sey me þy wille,
“Wheþer hit is for god oþer ylle!”
Þen seid þe kyng, “þou schalt here;
“ffor þe y sente, at þe to lere.
“A castel y haue bygonne,
“& lore þer-on þat y haue wonne;
“Al þat þey make þer on a day,
“O nyght alone stand hit ne may;
“& eft when þey gynne þe walles,
“Eyþer hit synkes, or cleues, or falles;
“& ffayn y wolde þe werk haue hasted,
“& mykel of myn þer-fore ys wasted.
“Bot þus seide alle my dyuinours,
“Þat þer ne schal stande wal ne tours
“Bot þy blod þer-on be schad,
“Þow þat neuere no fader had.”
Þenne seide Merlyn, “þat wold nought God,

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“Þat swylk a fals schold be bytrowd,
“Þat þorow þe mengynge of my blod
“Þy tour schold stande strong & god.
“Y schal proue þem fals fur-sworn
“ȝyf þou brynge þem me byforn:
“Þo þat on me lotes cast,
“& seyde my blod myght makyt fast,
“Y schal þem þroue for lyeres olde,
“Þylke maistres þat þe so tolde.”
Þe kyng dide þem come ilkone,
Ageyn Merlyn hym self alone.
“Maistres,” he seyde, “what haue ȝe seyd,
“What lotes haue ȝe on me leyd,
“ffor þys þyng ys þus ffarand,
“Þe kynges werk hit may nought stande?
“Con ȝe sey non oþer enchesoun
“Whi þat þis castel þus falles doun?
“& ȝyf ȝe can non oþer sey
“Why þat hit falles som certeyn wey,
“How couþe ȝe wyte þat þorow my blod
“Þis tour myght stande stark & god?
“Seys what þyng ys on þe ground
“Þat hit ne may stande hol ne sound,
“& seyþ what þyng hit helpe myght,
“Þat þys castel myght stande vpright.
“& ȝyf ȝe ne conne nought do hym wyte
“What þe fallyng may wyþ-syt,
“Þat ȝe haue seyd, hit ys bot fable,
“Þat my blod schold make hit stable!
“Seys now hym al þe desturblaunce,
“& where-of comeþ þat wonder chaunce!”
Þise maistres of astronomie & of deuyn

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Onswered nought o word to Merlyn.
When Merlyn sey þey ne onswered nought,
Right to þe kyng he sayde his þought: