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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fforma litere Lucii Inperatoris. |
 | The Story of England |  |
fforma litere Lucii Inperatoris.
“Lucius, þat Rome had in baillie,
“& ouer þe Romains haþ maistrie,
“Sendeþ til Arthur þe Bretoun
“Als on of his enemys feloun.
“Me merueilles mykel, & ilka Romayn,
“& merueillyng, we haue disdeyn
“Þat þou dar bere þe so heye,
“Ageyns a Romayn open þyn eye.
“Y wondre at the bost þou makest,
“& at wham þou conseil takest,
“Ageyn Rome to reyse strif,
“Þe whiles þou wost o Romayn has lyf.
“Þou gaf þy self a sory chek,
“Ageyns Rome to reise cuntek,
“Þat al erthe þorow dom hit demes,
“& as hed of al þe word hit ȝemes!
“Þou wot nought, ȝit wist shal hit be,
“Ne nought hast seyn, but þou schalt se,
“How gret hit ys to wrathe Rome
“Þat al þe werd schal iustice & dome!
“Ageyn kynde hastou gon!
“Reson ne mesure hastou non!
“Wheþen come þou? what þyng þe boldes?
“Oure truage takes, & has, & holdes,
“Oure landes vs reues as þou wyldes,
“& til vs no þyng þou [ne] ȝeldes!
“What right hastow þer vnto?
“Þy folye hit ys þat þou didest so!
“ȝyf þey may longe wyþ þe so leue,
“Þat we þorow force þe þem nought reue,
“Þen may þou seye, & scorne, þe wheþer
“Þat þe wolf fleþ for þe weþer;
“& ȝit þat he so longe slep
“Þat durste nought wake to asaille a schep,
“Or þat a got þe wolf dyd dare,
“& þe grehound fledde for þe hare.
“But swilk a þyng may nought bitide!
“Namore schal hit on oure syde!
“Oure auncestre Iulius Sesar
“Wan Bretayne (art þou nought war?)
“And tok trewage þer-of longe—
“ffour hundred ȝer we gon hit fonge,—
“& of oþere ildes aboute;
“But now þorow þe we are wyþoute.
“ȝut hastou don vs more vilte
“Þan al þat los we telle to þe,
“Þat þou ffrolle, our baroun, slow,
“ffraunce & fflaundres from vs þou drow!
“ffor þou hast of Rome no doute,
“Ne til his lordschip wil þou loute,
“Y make þe somouns vnto Rome,
“& comaunde þe þat þou come,
“ffolewyng atte nexte heruest.
“Hit schal nought helpe cheson to kest;
“But com, & amende þyn vnright,
“Þat þou so slowe ffrolle oure knyght,
“& als amende on oþer weye
“Of þat we conne to þe seye.
“But ȝif hit be so þou make delay,
“Þat þou nelt come at þy day,
“Ne come til oure comaundement,
“Þan telly þe outrely schent!
“ffor, þorow force, ffraunce y schal þe reue;
“Of Bretayne nought o fote byleue!
“Y trowe nought þou wilt abide,
“& ȝyf þou do, þou schalt þe hide,
“& siker on þys half þe se
“Þou schalt nought dur schewe þe to me;
“& ȝyf þou on þys half bes,
“At my comyng for soþe þou fles,
“Þou schal nought tapice a night to slepe
“Þat y ne schal do þe sterte & lepe,
“& brynge þe to Rome in bondes,
“& leue þe þer in Romaynes hondes!”
“& ouer þe Romains haþ maistrie,
“Sendeþ til Arthur þe Bretoun
“Als on of his enemys feloun.
“Me merueilles mykel, & ilka Romayn,
“& merueillyng, we haue disdeyn
“Þat þou dar bere þe so heye,
“Ageyns a Romayn open þyn eye.
“Y wondre at the bost þou makest,
“& at wham þou conseil takest,
“Ageyn Rome to reyse strif,
“Þe whiles þou wost o Romayn has lyf.
“Þou gaf þy self a sory chek,
“Ageyns Rome to reise cuntek,
“Þat al erthe þorow dom hit demes,
“& as hed of al þe word hit ȝemes!
“Þou wot nought, ȝit wist shal hit be,
“Ne nought hast seyn, but þou schalt se,
402
“Þat al þe werd schal iustice & dome!
“Ageyn kynde hastou gon!
“Reson ne mesure hastou non!
“Wheþen come þou? what þyng þe boldes?
“Oure truage takes, & has, & holdes,
“Oure landes vs reues as þou wyldes,
“& til vs no þyng þou [ne] ȝeldes!
“What right hastow þer vnto?
“Þy folye hit ys þat þou didest so!
“ȝyf þey may longe wyþ þe so leue,
“Þat we þorow force þe þem nought reue,
“Þen may þou seye, & scorne, þe wheþer
“Þat þe wolf fleþ for þe weþer;
“& ȝit þat he so longe slep
“Þat durste nought wake to asaille a schep,
“Or þat a got þe wolf dyd dare,
“& þe grehound fledde for þe hare.
“But swilk a þyng may nought bitide!
“Namore schal hit on oure syde!
“Oure auncestre Iulius Sesar
“Wan Bretayne (art þou nought war?)
“And tok trewage þer-of longe—
“ffour hundred ȝer we gon hit fonge,—
“& of oþere ildes aboute;
“But now þorow þe we are wyþoute.
“ȝut hastou don vs more vilte
“Þan al þat los we telle to þe,
“Þat þou ffrolle, our baroun, slow,
“ffraunce & fflaundres from vs þou drow!
“ffor þou hast of Rome no doute,
“Ne til his lordschip wil þou loute,
403
“& comaunde þe þat þou come,
“ffolewyng atte nexte heruest.
“Hit schal nought helpe cheson to kest;
“But com, & amende þyn vnright,
“Þat þou so slowe ffrolle oure knyght,
“& als amende on oþer weye
“Of þat we conne to þe seye.
“But ȝif hit be so þou make delay,
“Þat þou nelt come at þy day,
“Ne come til oure comaundement,
“Þan telly þe outrely schent!
“ffor, þorow force, ffraunce y schal þe reue;
“Of Bretayne nought o fote byleue!
“Y trowe nought þou wilt abide,
“& ȝyf þou do, þou schalt þe hide,
“& siker on þys half þe se
“Þou schalt nought dur schewe þe to me;
“& ȝyf þou on þys half bes,
“At my comyng for soþe þou fles,
“Þou schal nought tapice a night to slepe
“Þat y ne schal do þe sterte & lepe,
“& brynge þe to Rome in bondes,
“& leue þe þer in Romaynes hondes!”
At þat word was noise & cry
Of þe Bretons þat stoden ney;
Oþes þey swore þat “þey schold deye
“Þat broughte þat lettre of vylenye!
“& for his loue þat sente ȝow hyder,
“ȝe schul ben honged alle to-gyder!”
Lytel letted þey nadde be slayn or hirt;
But Arthur þenne anon vp stirt:
“Bretouns!” he saide, “holdeþ ȝow stille!
“Þe messegers schul haue non ylle!
“Ne neyþer ille haue ne here,
“But come & go in faire manere;
“Messegers of Rome þey are,
“In pes þey come, so schul þey fare;
“Þer message þat þei haue seyd,
“A lord þey haue, on þem hit leyd.”
When þe noyse was wel pesed,
& eft hadde þeir sittynge sesed,
Þe kyng tok wyþ hym two or þre
Of his wysest barouns priue,
Þat best couþe conseille til honour;
Wyþ hym þey ȝede vntil a tour,—
Þe name þer-of, hit was in haunt
As y fond writen, þe Tour Geaunt—
Þer sat Arthur, & þey byside,
To conseille how myghte best bytide.
Of þe Bretons þat stoden ney;
Oþes þey swore þat “þey schold deye
404
“& for his loue þat sente ȝow hyder,
“ȝe schul ben honged alle to-gyder!”
Lytel letted þey nadde be slayn or hirt;
But Arthur þenne anon vp stirt:
“Bretouns!” he saide, “holdeþ ȝow stille!
“Þe messegers schul haue non ylle!
“Ne neyþer ille haue ne here,
“But come & go in faire manere;
“Messegers of Rome þey are,
“In pes þey come, so schul þey fare;
“Þer message þat þei haue seyd,
“A lord þey haue, on þem hit leyd.”
When þe noyse was wel pesed,
& eft hadde þeir sittynge sesed,
Þe kyng tok wyþ hym two or þre
Of his wysest barouns priue,
Þat best couþe conseille til honour;
Wyþ hym þey ȝede vntil a tour,—
Þe name þer-of, hit was in haunt
As y fond writen, þe Tour Geaunt—
Þer sat Arthur, & þey byside,
To conseille how myghte best bytide.
| The Story of England | |