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 conquestu Norganie. |
 | The Story of England |  |
De conquestu Norganie.
Tyl Arthur com þer folk ynow;
To schipes on flode faste þey drow;
Þe wynd blew, & gan hem dryue,
Vp in Norweye gon þey aryue.
Ricolf was god, & wolde nought fle
Ne remue hym out of þe contre;
He gadered host, for wel he wende
Ageyn Arthur hym self defende;
But his wenyng was al veyn,
ffor Ricolf & hise wer alle þer sleyn.
When Arthur hadde Norweye wonnen,
Þe barons alle ouer riden & ronnen,
Loth, his neuew, he gaf þe croun,
After Ricolf þat was doun.
Loth made Arthur þenne feute,
Als til his chef ouer al þat fe.
To schipes on flode faste þey drow;
Þe wynd blew, & gan hem dryue,
Vp in Norweye gon þey aryue.
Ricolf was god, & wolde nought fle
Ne remue hym out of þe contre;
He gadered host, for wel he wende
Ageyn Arthur hym self defende;
But his wenyng was al veyn,
ffor Ricolf & hise wer alle þer sleyn.
When Arthur hadde Norweye wonnen,
Þe barons alle ouer riden & ronnen,
Loth, his neuew, he gaf þe croun,
After Ricolf þat was doun.
Loth made Arthur þenne feute,
Als til his chef ouer al þat fe.
Lothes sone, sire Wawayn,
Had ben at Rome to lere Romayn,
Wyþ Supplice þe Apostoille to wone,
Honur to lere, langage to kone;
& þere was he dubbed knyght.
And holden hardy, strong, & wyght.
When Supplice had don his ende,
Tyl Bretayne-ward Wawayn gan wende.
Now ys Wawayn comen hom,
fful blithe ys Loth al of his com;
Noble he was, & ful curteys,
Mykel honur of hym euere men seys:
He loued mesure & faire beryng;
Pruyde ne bost loued he no þyng;
Vnkynde, false, & fykele, he hated;
Lesynges, alle swilk he abated;
More he gaf þan he by-hette,
Wel more he dide þan terme of sette.
Had ben at Rome to lere Romayn,
Wyþ Supplice þe Apostoille to wone,
Honur to lere, langage to kone;
& þere was he dubbed knyght.
And holden hardy, strong, & wyght.
When Supplice had don his ende,
Tyl Bretayne-ward Wawayn gan wende.
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fful blithe ys Loth al of his com;
Noble he was, & ful curteys,
Mykel honur of hym euere men seys:
He loued mesure & faire beryng;
Pruyde ne bost loued he no þyng;
Vnkynde, false, & fykele, he hated;
Lesynges, alle swilk he abated;
More he gaf þan he by-hette,
Wel more he dide þan terme of sette.
Now ys Loth in Norweye seised,
& Wawayn comen, þat mykel ys preised.
Alle þo men þat were of myght,
Þat weren ȝonge, & couþe of fyght,
& loueden more werre þan pes,
Arthur til hym alle swyche ches;
Of swylk gadered he many on,
& schipes on se ful god won.
When his host was styf & stark,
He schiped to-wardes Denemark.
Achil, þat þen was kyng of Danes,
Saw Bretons & Noreys come alle at anes
Wyþ Arthur, to wynne his lond,
& for to destruye al þat he fond.
But Achil þoughte, as kyng ful wys,
Þat Arthur oueral hadde þe prys;
He wiste wel he schulde conquere
His lond of hym, ȝyf he come þere;
But he seide ‘he wolde nought so
‘Hym seluen ne his lond fur-do,
‘Ne suffre his folk to be slayn,
‘Ne his tresor spende in vayn,
‘Ne his casteles beten doun,
‘Ne kirke robbed, ne brenne toun;’
But faire he spak, & wel he hette,
& wysly gaf giftes wel bysette,
So þat of Arthur he had grauntise,
Þe lond in pes for his seruise;
& Arthur þen his seruise tok,
Omage he swor hym on þe bok.
& Wawayn comen, þat mykel ys preised.
Alle þo men þat were of myght,
Þat weren ȝonge, & couþe of fyght,
& loueden more werre þan pes,
Arthur til hym alle swyche ches;
Of swylk gadered he many on,
& schipes on se ful god won.
When his host was styf & stark,
He schiped to-wardes Denemark.
Achil, þat þen was kyng of Danes,
Saw Bretons & Noreys come alle at anes
Wyþ Arthur, to wynne his lond,
& for to destruye al þat he fond.
But Achil þoughte, as kyng ful wys,
Þat Arthur oueral hadde þe prys;
He wiste wel he schulde conquere
His lond of hym, ȝyf he come þere;
But he seide ‘he wolde nought so
‘Hym seluen ne his lond fur-do,
374
‘Ne his tresor spende in vayn,
‘Ne his casteles beten doun,
‘Ne kirke robbed, ne brenne toun;’
But faire he spak, & wel he hette,
& wysly gaf giftes wel bysette,
So þat of Arthur he had grauntise,
Þe lond in pes for his seruise;
& Arthur þen his seruise tok,
Omage he swor hym on þe bok.
Arthur was glad þat he þus wan,
So sone þe kyng bicam his man;
But ȝut he þoughte to wynne wel more.
Of þe beste knyghtes he ches þore,
& squiers bolde, & gode archers,
Þat louede werre, & knew þe maners—
I ne wot how manye þousandes
Þat he so gadered y þo landes;—
Of gret folk mad he purueaunce,
ffor he seyde he wolde to ffraunce:
fflaundre he wan, Boloyne he tok;
Tounes, casteles, for hym þey quok;
His folk so wysly gan he lede,
Struyed he no lond als he ȝede,
He tok no þyng fer ne hende,
But mete & drynke, & hors prouende;
ȝit toke þei non wyþ no maistrie,
But bought hit þere hit was to bye.
Þat tyme þat þis chaunce gan falle,
Þat now hat ffraunce, þo hight hit Galle;
Þe Romayns þat ilke tyme hit held,
Was þer no kyng bar croune ne scheld;
& ilk ȝer toke þey þer-of truage,
Syþen Iulius wan hit in seruage.
So sone þe kyng bicam his man;
But ȝut he þoughte to wynne wel more.
Of þe beste knyghtes he ches þore,
& squiers bolde, & gode archers,
Þat louede werre, & knew þe maners—
I ne wot how manye þousandes
Þat he so gadered y þo landes;—
Of gret folk mad he purueaunce,
ffor he seyde he wolde to ffraunce:
fflaundre he wan, Boloyne he tok;
Tounes, casteles, for hym þey quok;
His folk so wysly gan he lede,
Struyed he no lond als he ȝede,
He tok no þyng fer ne hende,
But mete & drynke, & hors prouende;
ȝit toke þei non wyþ no maistrie,
But bought hit þere hit was to bye.
Þat tyme þat þis chaunce gan falle,
Þat now hat ffraunce, þo hight hit Galle;
Þe Romayns þat ilke tyme hit held,
Was þer no kyng bar croune ne scheld;
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Syþen Iulius wan hit in seruage.
| The Story of England | |