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

Brenne wolde nought longe abide,
His fflute he gadered on ilka side,
Aryued vp in Albanye
Wyþ gret force of god nauye;
He sente to Belyn messegers,
Of worthy knyghtes & squiers,
Preynge forto deliuere his wyf
& his casteles, & bate alle st[r]yf;
And bot he wolde ȝelde þeym on haste,
More of his he wolde waste.
Belyn gaf nought of his manace,
Bot þoughte he scholde ȝit don him chace,
& sent hym bode by his men bolde,
“Þat he had taken, þat wolde he holde;
“ffor his praieres noþyng wolde do,
“Ne for his loue namore þan so.”
Hys folk were al redy & dight
Agaynes Brenne for to fyght:
Bysyde a wode at Kalenters
Mette þe breþere wyþ here baners;
Eyþer oþer mykel þey hated,
Þe felonloker þey hem abated;

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Dartes til oþer þey schotte ful faste,
Grete stones wyþ slynges caste,
Scharpe launces þorow scheldes smot,
& brighte swerdes þorow helmes bot;
Sone by nekkes þey sesede sore
Wyþ knyues smyten to deþ ay-whore,
Þorow heued & þrote, breste & bak,
ffruschte to-gidere, þat nekkes brak.
Þe Bretons bolded styfly to stande,
& nought þe norþerne, bot were fleande;
To flyght þey fledde, ilk bataille seer,
& Belyn folewede, & neyghed hem ner;
Two þousand fleyng he þer slow,
Als þey vntil þer schipes drow.
Brenne, þat made most þat wo,
Wyþ peyne he skaped þe slaughtre fro;
Vneþes he skaped, þe hauene he hent;
His twelfte & he, to se þey went;
Alle he les bote þo twelue,
To ffraunce he wente wyþ hem hym selue.
ffyftene þousand slayn were told,
Wyþoute prisoners þat were in hold.

Whan al þis wo was brought til ende,
& Brenne in-til ffraunce gan wende,
Belyn vntil ȝork he went,
& þere he held his parlement.
He askede his barons, and spak,
“What scholde be don of sire Guthlak?”
Gutlak byforn sent to Belyn,
Out of prison þer he lay yn,

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“Þat of Belyn he wolde holde
“Al his honur, ȝif þat he wolde,
“Denmark his lond, quyt & cler,
“And gyuen hym truwage ilka ȝer;
“Syker þerof he wolde hym make,
“Wyþ bond, & god ostage to take;
“Wyþy he myghte lede safly
“His lemman, wyþouten vyleny.”
Belyn had fol gret desyr
To haue truwage of his enpir.
Þorough leue of þe parlement,
Gutlak & his lemman went,
When he had sworn & don omage,
& bondes mad, & gyuen hostage,
To Belyn to halde þer couenaunt,
fforto wende he hadde þe graunt.
Gutlak, to go, sone he was ȝare,
Wyþ schip vntil his lond to fare.

Belyn held wel þenne his honour,
& wysly was god governour;
He louede pes wyþ al hys myght,
& pesyble men held he to ryght.
Hys lond Bretayne he went þorow-out,
& ilka countre biheld about;
Byheld þe wodes, watres, & fen,
& no passage fond he mad for men,
Ne heye strete þorow no contre,
Neyþer to burgh ne to cyte.

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Þorow myres, hylles, & vales,
He made brugges & causes,
Heye stretes for comun passage,
Brugges ouer watres dide he stage:
Þe firste he made, he cald hyt “ffosse;”
Þorow-out þys londe hit goþ til Scosse;
Hit bygynnes atte Toteneys,
& endeþ þenne at Cateneys.
An oþer strete þan ordeyned he:
ffro Souþ-haumpton̄ opon þe se,
To Mene yn Walys, (Seint Dauies now hight,)
Ikenyldestrete reches ful ryght:
Two causes ouer þe lond in lengþe & brede,
Þat men ouerthwert in passage ȝede.
When þey were maked als he ches,
He comaunded till alle haue pees;
Alle schold haue pees & fredam
Þat in his stretes ȝede or cam;
& ȝyf hit were any of hyse
Þat for-dyde his ffraunchise,
fforfeted schold ben al his þyng,
& hym self taken til þe kyng.

Brenne þat was gon in to ffraunce,
Hym schamed sore of his chaunce
Þat hit was so wyde yspred
Þat his lemman was a-wey led.
Hym self & his twelf felawes
Serued þe kyng ȝeres & dawes;
Knyght he was, curteys & wys,
Oueral he hadde los & pris;

111

What ony knyght hadde to þer lyuere,
His was largest, for he was fre;
Mykel was he preysed of prowesse,
& ful wel loued for his largesse;
He couþe mykel of curtesy,
& faire hym bar, as man worþy.
When his los was þorow ronnen,
& in þe lond his pris hadde wonnen,
Wiþ wham he made any soiour,
He preyed for help & for socour
ffor to conquere his heritage,
Þat Belyn reftym wiþ outrage;
& ȝede to Burgoyne, to Duk Segwyn,
Bysought hym of help ageyns Belyn.
Þe Duk louede his compaignie,
& gaf hym of his tresorie.
Brenne was yn speche curteys,
& konnynge knyght by many weys;
He couþe of chas & of ryuere,
Inow of game of here manere;
Gentil of body, wyþ fair visage,
He semed a man of hey parage,
& was plesaunt & seruisable.
Þe Duk was riche wyþoute fable,
& of his body had non heyr
Bot a mayde ferly feyr.
Inough sche hadde þat tyme of elde,
Þat scheo myght take a lord to welde;
He spak louely, wysly, & stille.
& serued þe Duk at al his wylle,

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& wel hym payed alle his dedes,
& oueral wel he spedde his nedes.
Þe Duk his doughter gaf hym to wyue,
To haue þe Duche after his lyue.
Þen þoughte þe Duk, þat hym fel feir
Þat God had sent hym suche on til heyr.
Brenne obeysed hym curteysly,
& seide “Sire Duk, graunt mercy!”
Al men hym louede, & held hym dere,
Ech man hym payed wel his manere.
ffel þanne wyþynne þe twelf-monþ ende,
Swyche a grace God gan hym sende,
Þat he deyde, þe Duk Segwyn.
Of al þe Duche, Brenne tok seysyn;
Hys barons þat louede hym wel byfore,
After louede hym mykel more;
Wel louede hym ilka Burgyloun,
& knyghtes of þeyr nacioun;
He hadde þe lond wyþ al þe rente,
And a ȝong lady fair & gente.
In al his welþe forgat he nought
How Belyn hadde wyþ hym wrought,
& held þe londes þat his schold be;
Bot whan he sey his tyme eyse,
He sent for knyghtes & squiers,
ffrendes he soughte, & waged souders;
Wyþ gret ost cam til Normandie,
& purueyde þer a gret nauye.
Whan hit was tyme, had wynd at wille
He passed þe se wyþouten ylle.

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Belyn herde wel þat he cam;
Wyþ folk ynogh ageyns hym nam;
Þer bataylles assembled wyþynne a lite,
& redy were almost to fyghte.