The Story of England :: :: University of Virginia Library

Gurmound was a noble knyght,
Of noble lynage, of mykel myght,
Stalworþe of body, hardy of wille,
He dredde noman for god ne ille;
Kynges sone he was of Aufryk,
Þat is in heþenesse a ful fer stryk;
Of al Aufrike was he heyr,
But þer-of ne tok he ward ne speir;
ffor, Aufrik he gaf til his broþer,
& seide he wolde purchace hym oþer,
He seide he wolde toward þe west,
By þe se syde, to make conquest,
& croune wolde he neuere bere
But he hit wan wyþ force & were.
Merlyn þe clerk longe byforn
Of Gormound spak, er he was born,
& seide, ‘þe wolf vpon þe se
‘Schuld do alle þe Bretons fle:’
Þus seyde Merlyn wyþ herte ful sor,
Þe Bretons tyme for euere mor,
Til Cadwal & til Conan
Þeir bones broughte ageyn wyþ man.

fful wel he cald hym ‘wolf of drede;’
He robbed oueral as he ȝede.
He purchased hym, þorow robberye,
Men ynowe, & fair nauye,—
An hundred & sexti þousand bolde
Of men of armes knowe & tolde,

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Wyþouten gelde & maryners,
& sergauntz, & gode archers;—
Schipes he hadde, y ne wot how fele;
Alle he tok, & non wold spele.
Water & lond, long & brod,
He ouer sailed, & al þorow rode;
Ildes þorow ȝede, kynges ouer-cam,
Þeyr landes sesed, þer godes nam.
So longe he ferde o þe se sailand,
& kynges slow by se & sand,
Al holy his flute gan dryue,
Vpon Irland he gan aryue;
Þe lond sone til hym gan falle;
Irische kyng he dide hym calle;
Þen seide he ‘he wolde to Bretaigne,
‘Wiþ Bretons to make a newe bargayne.’

Saxons were manie ȝyt in þys lond,
Þorow trewage þat men þem in bond,
& when þey felde hem ought of might,
In Hengistes landes þey claymed right,
Thwancastre, Lyndesye & Kent,
Of þyse Hengist furst hadde rent,
& þat he gaf Octa his sone,—
By Scotland þer gan he wone;—
Þey chalangede hit of auncestrie,
Al þat was Hengistes partie;
Ofte þey wan hit þorow dynt,
& often hit a-geyn þey tynt;
Often þer-fore þey gaf hostages,
& also ofte made þey homages;
To þe Bretons oþ þey swor,
& often ageyn þer oþ þey for;

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Neuere held þey lenger feyþ ne ryght
Þan þey sey tyme & terme of myght,—
Þat a kyng was ded or doune,
Or ȝyf a feble on hadde þe croune;—
Þenne þey ryse, on Bretons ronne,
Vmwhile þey les, vmwhile þei wonne;
ȝyf a discord were bitwixt þe Bretons,
Euere medlande were þe Saxons;
On wham-so ros contek or wo,
Þe Saxons were redy þeym to slo.

Northumberland was al þeyr home,
Þere þey wonede, þennes þey come;
Hit was gyuen þem first to bigge,
Al wast was hit wone to ligge;
But þer dwellynge mended þat contre
Wel bettere þan hit was wone to be.

Of Gurmound ȝede þe word ful wyde,
Þat alle landes he wolde þorow ryde;
Payen he was, þey herde wel telle,
Cristen men to struye & quelle.
When þey herde of hym þus speke,
Þey hoped þan he scholde þem wreke;
Wyþ þe Bretons þei made al pes,
Þe whiles messegers þey ches,
& sente til Gurmound ouer þe se,
& hette ‘to holde of hym þer fe
‘Wyþ þy he wolde come to Bretaigne,
‘& gyue hit þem, & be cheftaigne,
‘& be hym self lord & kynge,
‘Wyþy þey helde of hym þeir þynge,
‘Þat leuede on his owen lawe,
‘& brynge þe Cristene alle of dawe:

504

“ffor ȝe ar Payen, & so ar we;
“O lawe we wolde þat al schuld be,
“& swylk a kyng wolde we haue
“Þat þe Payen lay might saue.”
ffaste hym bisoughte, & þus þey hym het,
So þat Gurmound mad redy his flet,
& seide ‘he wolde auenture his chaunce,
‘Hys Payen lay for to auaunce.’
To schipe he wente at a tyde,
O Northumberland he gan ryde.
Gurmound acorded wiþ þe Saxons,
‘To voide þe lond of alle þe Bretons,
‘& gyue hit þe Saxons in fe ageyn.’
Of þys made þey foreward certeyn,
& þat þey schulde gyue hym truwage,
& þer-til swore, & gaf hostage.

Oueral þenne was sorewe & drede
Whenne þe Payens gonne to sprede!
ffor þey of noman hadde mercy,
But alle deide delfully;
Þe Cristen blod [þat] er was gentil,
Was turned to Payen so vyl.
Þe Saxons ledde þe Aufrykans,
& destruyed þe Cristen wans;
Knyghtes, clerkes, to deþ were don,
& namely alle religion;
Was non spared of Cristen tonge,
Neyþer womman ne childre ȝonge.
Byschopes, abbotes, þat reliqes had,
When þey fledde, a-wey þeym lad,

505

& manye in þe erthe þey dalf,
Þat now men fynde on many half;—
Crosses, belles, men haue founden,
In welles, in watres, vp haue wounden,
Þat tyme were casten, so to saue,
ffor þey myghte nought alle wyþ hem haue;—
Cors seyntes bones wyþ hem bare;
& hidde in erþe manion ȝut are.
Alle fledde þat fle might;
Þe hardiest was ful sore afright.
Theof, þe erchebischop of London,
To wode he fledde, & was nought fonden;
Sire Thadok, þe erchebischop of ȝork,
He liuede in kerres, as doþ þe stork;
Þey liuede wyþ herbes of þe ryuers,
In wast, wyþ bestes, at stedes sers;
Non þeym tok to castel ne tour,
ffor þey wyste of no socour;
Halles, chaumbres, alle þey let,
To Walys fele fledde on fet.
& somme þat mighte hauen hent,
In schip to litel Bretaigne went;
Þe mene folk & þe poraille
ffledde in to Walys & Cornewaille.

Þe kyng fledde fro cost to cost,
ffor he myght gete to-gedere non host
Þat durste stande Gurmound agayn,
Erl, baron, knyght, ne swayn;
Ne þe kyng durst hym nought se,
ffor non wilde stande, but alle wold fle.

506

Seint Bede telles in his gestes
How þe Bretons brak Godes heste[s]:
Why þat meschaunce gan on þem falle,
In his bokes he writes hit alle.
Of eighte þat he wrytes, y telle þe þre,
In stede of an autorite:
Propre profit, & pryue hate,
ȝonge mennes conseil þey toke algate;
ffor by alle þyse þre þey ches,
And mest þorow þyse, Bretayne þey les.