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

So com þeyr moder, dame Tonewenne,
Þat bar boþe Belyn & Brenne,
Bytwyxt þer hostes, tremblyng for drede;
ffol old scheo was, haltyng scheo ȝede;
Ouer al scheo asked where was Brenne.
Atte þe laste, men gan hure kenne;
& Brenne herd seye þat hit was sche;
He saide “Moder, welcome be ȝe!”
Hure armes aboute his nekke sche cast,—
Boþe ostes wondred þer-ate fast,—
Vntil hure girdel hure cloþes sche rent;
Naked byfore þe host sche went;
Vntil Brenne gretynge sche spak,
Hur fyngres sche wrast, þe blod out brak,
Sche tremblede & sykede inderly,
Handes & face brest al blody:
“Dere child!” scheo seid, “wher hastow ben?
“Now þanky God y haue þe sen!
“Sone,” sche seide, “list now to me,
“& do als y schal conceille þe.
“Lo, here þe pappes þat þou on sok!
“Þyse armes hit arn þat þe bylok!

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“Here ys þe wombe ȝe boþe ynne ware!
“Þys body ȝow bar wiþ wo & kare!
“Y am sche þat for ȝow kneled!
“Now þenk o þat sorwe þat y þenne feled!
“Ley now no sorewe me more byforn,
“ffor hym þat let ȝow of me be born!
“Ley doun þyn armes, me forto saue!
“Wylle nought þat y for þe deþ haue!
“Þou mysdost, þat þou now fandes
“To brynge straungers of outlandes
“Vs forto robben & to slo!
“Rest þe! let þy mod ouer go!
“Þou hast namo breþere in wold;
“Þy fader ys ded, þy moder ys old;
“Suffre, for no þyng in lyue,
“Þy pore frendes a-way to dryue!
“Þou scholdest vs presente & gyue,
“& helpe vs alle in pes to lyue;
“Bot now þou comest to reue vs our [socour],
“Þat scholdest ben oure mayntenour.
“Lef folye! & y vndertake,
“ȝyf þou on hym wilt pleynte make,
“And y fynde he haue þe gylt,
“He schal amenden right als þou wilt;
“Bot ȝyf þou seist he dide þe fle,
“I seye nay; witnesse on þe!
“ffyrst þou bygonne al yn wrong;
“So al þe folye ys on þe longe,
“Þe firste folye & yuele dedes.
“When þou intil Norwey ȝedes,

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“Wyf to take, wyþouten leue,
“Þat schewede þou mentest hym to greue,
“& broughtest Norn men hym tasaille:
“Þerfore þou lostest þy bataille;
“Þy blame ys now ȝyt fol grym,
“Þat swiche an host bryngest on hym
“& schapest oure desherytysoun,
“& þys londes destruccioun!
“So mykel yuel wold he nought þe,
“Al-þey his power so mykel myght be.
“Brenne, sone! what þenkest þou?
“Com til acord now for þy prow!
“Ley doun þy swerd, do wey þy scheld,
“Wyþdraw þy folk out of þe feld;
“& sek þe pes, for charite!
“Þe same schal he do to þe.”

Brenne hure preyere vnderstod;
ffor loue of hure changed his mod;
His helm, his hauberk, he dide vnlace;
Al bar-heued, wyþ open face,
Cam he wiþ his moder Tonewenne,
& also dide Belyn to Brenne:
Þeyr moder dide hem to-gedere kysse.
ffor þat saughtlyng was mykel blisse;
More of wrath was þer nought spoken;
ffor loue in armes ilk oþer þey loken.
Al þus þen ended þe breþere wrathe,
Þer tene turned to game & glathe.
ffro þeþen to Londone þey went,

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& þer þey helde a parlement;
Of þeyr parlement was þe ende,
To wynne ffraunce wolde þey wende.

Belyn dide somone his Bretons,
& Brenne haþ alle his Burgylons.
By tyme & terme þat þey had set,
Boþe ostes atte hauene met,
& schiped ouer into ffraunce;
To wynne hit, þey hoped was her chaunce.
By-twyxt hem was þen a batille don:
Þe force of ffraunce fel ful son,
Þey durede nought to fighte in feld;
Þe breþere dide hem to þeym ȝeld;
Casteles þey sesede fer & ner,
& wonne alle ffraunce wyþynne a ȝer.

When al þe folk were atter dome,
Þey seide þey wolde wende to Rome,
And leue non þat þey fond,
Bot ȝyf þey helde of þeym þer lond.
Þey sente aboute to diuerse costes,
Of doughti folk þey gadered hostes
ffor to wynne pris & prow;
Þey passed þe Mountaynes of Moungow;
Taurynus þey toke, & Iuerye,
& alle þe Cytes of Lombardye,
Vrceles, Pauye, & Tremoygne,
Melan, Plesence, & grete Boloyne;
Þey passed þe water of Tauron,
& þe hul of Mount Bardon;

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þey robbed þorow al Tuskane,
& al ouer rod, & þorow ran.
Als þey ryfled landes ay whore,
Rome þey neighed ay þe more.
Romayns dredden hem for to deye,
ffor þo tydynges þat þey herd seye;
Al day of passande men þey herd,
Þe two breþere wonnen al þe werd.
Þey of Rome had chosen þat ȝer
Two noble men of gret power,
Þat þey scholde, when þey had nede,
Þer folk vntil bataille lede,
& saue þer landes, holde þem to ryght,
ffor doughtiest þey were in fyght:
Sire Procenna, þat on hight so,
Þat oþer men calde sire Galbao;
Þyse to were þeyr conseillours,
& speke vnto þe senatours
“What þey wolde, how hadde þey tight,
“Þeyr cite ȝelde, or stande to fyght.”
Þe Sene seide þey were affrayed,
Non hem wyþstod, bot þorow alle strayed:
“Wiþ swilk to fighte, we haue non host,
“ffor þey han folk wyþ þe most;
“& ȝyf we myghte oure pes haue,
“Þorough mekenesse oure gode saue,
“& oure seluen at here pes lyue,
“Gold & seluer we wolde þem gyue.
“Ouer þat, þey schul haue truage,
“To passe & do vs non vtrage;
“ffor strong hit were for oure cite
“To be destruyed, & al þe contre.”
In al þer drede, & al þer dome,

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Þe breþere come & byseget Rome.
Þorow comun assent of þe senatours,
Þey presented þe breþere gret tresours;
& to be in here auowery,
Truage þey graunted hem for þy.
Þe breþere tok of þem hostage;
Twenty childre of þe beste lynage
& of þe richest of al þe toun,
Þey presented hem as for raunson:
Þus was þe pes bytwixt hem graunted,
Bot lytel þrowe þey hit haunted.

Belyn & Brenne remued þer host,
By Lombardye þey wente þe cost,
To werren opon þe Alemauntz,
& take truage of þe remenauntz.
Þey were letted by þe Romayns,
Þat couenaunt breke; rise þeym a-geyns;
& proue þey wolde þeir hardinesse,
And seide þey wolde do more pruesse.
Þey send for knyghtes oueral aboute,
& gaderet ost gret & stoute,
Wel armed in ilke a conreye;
After þe breþere þey tok þeir weye;
On þem þey þowte to smyte al fresse,
Ithe Mountaingnes to holdem at destresse,
Þat non of hem scholde namore come
Of þo breþere eft to Rome.
Þey sente messages on þer partye,
In to Alemayne, þe breþere to spie,

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Þat ilka pas þey scholde so wayte,
Ithe Mountz holden hem so straite,
ȝyf þey schold passe on eyþer syde,
Wyþ force þey schold hem ouer ryde.
Al þus on ilk a side þey ros,
To haue þe breþere host in clos;
& atter passyng in to þe mount,
Þe Alemauntz schold ben in þer frount;
Þorow force of þer god ordynaunce,
Þey schold nought passe þorow no chaunce.

When Belyn perseyued þe ffelonye,
Þey conseilled on þer partie
Þat Brenne scholde turne a-gayn
To wyþstande þe host Romayn,
And Belyn scholde on his side
Agayns þe host of Alemauntz ryde;
& whilk of þem best myghte spede,
Schold turne & helpe þe toþer at nede.
When Romayns wyste Bren schold come,
Þey toke þe wey agayn to Rome,
Þat Brenne schold neighe Rome no ner,
& þe breþere a sondre fer.
Þorow a spye Belyn herde seye,
& taughte Brenne a geyner weye;
To trauersen hem al ouer þere score,
& passe þe Romayns wel byfore.
Þey chose gyours þe contre knew,
To lede þem wye trist & trew,
& brynge þem wel to þat strete
Þer þeym byhoued Romayns mete.
Þey iourneyed boþe dayes & nyght
Al so stille as þey myght,

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Wyþoute noise, cry, or how,
Vntil þe entre of Moungow.
& when þey were in þe valeye,
Þer ledere seide, “þys ys þeir weye!
“By þys þey come, hit is certeyn;
“Oþer wey haue þey non ageyn.”

To þat passage þey come at nyght;
Þe mone schon ful faire & bright;
Brenne bad þem ber ham [al] pryue,
Wiþ-oute noyse, til tyme schold be.
Sone after cam þe Romaynes route;
Of non þey hadde drede ne doute.
By þe mone þat so lyght schon,
Þey spedde hem faste swythe to gon.
Atte passage glyfte þey þer eyene;
Agayns þe mone sawe þey schyne
Helmes, hauberkes, scheldes vp-lyfte.
Þenne were þe Romayns al a-glyfte:
Þe Bretons hadde þe Romay[n]s byden;
Al so swyþe þey to þem ryden;
Brenne þem boldede, bad þem wel smyte,
“ffelleþ ȝour fos þat wolde ȝou byte!”
Oueral þe Bretons þeym assailled;
Þe Romayns route fel & failled;
Þey nadde no tome for to fle,
Ne place to huyden hem priue.
Þe Bretons bowaylled þeym, & hew;
In buskes, bankes, doun þeym þrew;
Þe slaughtre lasted al þat nyght,
Til hit sprang þe dayes lyght;

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& al þat day afterward,
Vntil þe nyght, was bataille hard.
Þe nyght departed þem o sunder:
Þat any askaped, hit was a wonder.
Þat oþer day in þe morwen tyde,
Toward Brenne, Belyn gan ryde;—
ffer from his broþer wold he nought go,
What chaunce so bytidde of mo;—
& Brenne þat byfore nam,
Abod [þer] vntil Belyn cam.
When þey were to-gyder comen,
Boþe vntil Rome nomen,
& byseged hit aboute,—
& þey of Rome were ful stoute,—
On alle sides þey sette engyns,
Als Brenne ordeyned, & belyns.
Mynours þey hadde ynowe, & sleye,
Þe wal to perce & vndermye.
Þo wyþynne deffended hem wel,
At þat tyme lostey nought a del;
Wyþ arblastes schoten quarels vnryde,
Inow men broughte, & leide by syde;
Wyþ grete stones þey hem affrayed.
Þe Romayns were nought desmayed,
Þey launced darte, bowes drowe,
ffele þey felde, & manye slowe.
Þe breþere leften þer assaut al,
& persed no þyng of þe wal.
Longe lastede þat ilk distaunce,
To þe breþere gret noyaunce;
Galewes dide þe breþere renge;
Of þer blod þey wol þeym venge;
Þe galewes þey reysed vp ful heye,—

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Þe Romayns wel myght hem se wyþ eye,—
& hongeden alle þer hostagers,
Burgeyses sones, lordes peres.
Þat kynde, y trowe, had sorewe & wo,
To schames deþ þat saw hem go.