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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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De Tumba Elene, & de nutrice eius.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

De Tumba Elene, & de nutrice eius.

Beduer sey þe toumbe was newe,
& of hure deol his herte gan rewe.
Whan scheo perceyued sire Beduer,
Scheo saide, “cheytyf, what wiltow her?
“Som synne haþ þe hyder y-brought,
“Þat þy deþ her hastow sought;
“Þis day ys þe schape to deye,
“Ȝyf þe geaunt þe se wyþ eye.
“Þis ilke hil swyþe þou weyue,
“So þat he þe nought perceyue.”
“Wyf,” he seide, “for charite,
“Let þy gretyng, & spek wyþ me,
“& sey me what þou art, & why
“Þou wepest here so delfully,
“& ho ys leyd here on þis graue;

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“& sey me soþ, so God þe saue!”
“I am,” scheo seyde, “a wo-bygon,”
“An helples þyng, a waryed on,
“& grete for a maydens myshap
“Þat whilom y norisched at my pap,
“& souke y gaf hure of my brest;
“& þis ys hure toumbe þat þou sest;
“Eleyne scheo highte, Oheles nece,
“Of flesche was non so fair a pece.
“To norische sche was me taught,
“Alas þe while y euere hure aught!
“So cam þis fend to þys contre,
“& tok boþe Eleyne & me,
“& broughte vs here vnto þis hyl,
“So þat noman dar come vs tyl.
“Eleyne he wolde haue furlayn,
“But sche ne myghte nought wyþ þat payn;
“He was so huge, ouer mesure,
“& scheo so ȝong, þat myght nought dure.
“Þorow gret destresse hire herte brast,
“In his armes scheo ȝald þe gast,
“& yn þys toumbe y haue hure leyd;
“& þus hit was als y haue seid.”
Þen seid he, “wherto dwellest þou here,
“Syþen sche ys ded þat was þe dere?”
“Sire,” scheo seyde, “y wil þe telle
“Ȝif þou durstest so longe dwelle.
“Sire, for y þe se of body auenaunt,
“& gentil man by [þi] semblaunt,
“When y sey Eleyne so schamely deye,
“My wit was lorn, & al a-weye;

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“Wyþ force he dide me leue stille,
“His lecherie in me to fulfille.
“On God hym selue y take witnes,
“Þat al maugre myn hit es!
“& ilka tyme þat y him se,
“Y wilde be sonken, for y ne may fle;
“& y trowe he comeþ right sone,
“His lecherie wyþ me to done.
“Y telle þe ded, ȝyf þou here bydes,
“No þyng ne saueþ þe, ne hides;
“Swyþe þou fle, y gyue þe red,
“Y wolde nought þou were so ded.
“Ȝonder ys he, y schal þe kenne,
“On ȝone hil þer þou sest brenne;
“Sone to come his tyme schal be,
“Þer-fore, sire knyght, y rede þou fle,
“& let me haue my self my sorewe,
“My wille ys to be ded to morewe.”
Of hure wo sore hym ouer þought;
But he ne wiste what hure dought,
Ne to make long dwellyng.
He turned ageyn vnto þe kynge;
& als scheo seide, so he hym tolde,
How Eleyne deyde, & scheo in holde,
& he scholde fynde þe geaunt
Y þe more hil, þer was his haunt;
“Out of þat stede þe smoke cam fro,
“We may hym fynde ȝif þat we go.”
ffor Eleyne had Arthur sorewe ynow,
& abod til þe flod wyþ-drow.
Vntil þe ebbe a stounde þey bod,
Wiþ þer hors þen ouer þey rod,

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& wenten bote a softe pas
Tyl þei perceiued wher he was.
Þeir stedes & þer palfreys
Þeir squiers helde, wiþ oþer harneys;
But sire Beduer & sire Kay
Ȝede wiþ Arthur vp þe way.
Arthur seide, “y wil proue my might,
“Wiþ þe geaunt alone to fight;
“Hold ȝow here byhynde a lyte;
“Alone on hym wil y first smite;
“While y may my selue saue,
“Oþer help wil y non haue;
“Me þynkeþ hit were no vasselage,
“Þre til on; hit were outrage!
“Nere þe les, ȝyf þat ȝe se nede,
“Bettere ys help þan ouer drede;
“ffor men seye, ‘hit ys folye
“‘In strengthe to mikel for to affye.’”
Þey seide, ‘for prowesse ne for ȝelp,
‘Ȝyf hit were ned, þey wolde hym help.’