No More Learning

HUGHE.

Mie noble loverde, Godwynn ys the same
He sweeres he wylle notte swelle the Normans ent. 165

KYNGE.

Ah traytoure! botte mie rage I wylle commaunde.
Thou arte a Normanne, Hughe, a straunger to the launde.

Thou kenneste howe these Englysche erle doe bere
Such stedness[173] in the yll and evylle thynge,
Botte atte the goode theie hover yn denwere[174], 170
Onknowlachynge[175] gif thereunto to clynge.

HUGHE.

Onwordie syke a marvelle[176] of a kynge!
O Edwarde, thou deservest purer leege[177];
To thee heie[178] shulden al theire mancas brynge;
Thie nodde should save menne, and thie glomb[179] forslege[180]. 175
I amme no curriedowe[181], I lacke no wite [182],
I speke whatte bee the trouthe, and whatte all see is ryghte.

KYNGE.

Thou arte a hallie[183] manne, I doe thee pryze.
Comme, comme, and here and hele[184] mee ynn mie praires.
Fulle twentie mancas I wylle thee alise [185], 180
And twayne of hamlettes[186] to thee and thie heyres.
So shalle all Normannes from mie londe be fed,
Theie alleyn[187] have syke love as to acquyre yer bredde.




CHORUS.


Whan Freedom, dreste yn blodde-steyned veste,
To everie knyghte her warre-songe sunge, 185
Uponne her hedde wylde wedes were spredde;
A gorie anlace bye her honge.
She daunced onne the heathe;
She hearde the voice of deathe;
Pale-eyned affryghte, hys harte of sylver hue, 190
In vayne assayled[188] her bosomme to acale[189];
She hearde onflemed[190] the shriekynge voice of woe,
And sadnesse ynne the owlette shake the dale.
She shooke the burled[191] speere,
On hie she jeste[192] her sheelde, 195
Her foemen[193] all appere,
And flizze[194] alonge the feelde.
Power, wythe his heasod[195] straught[196] ynto the skyes,
Hys speere a sonne-beame, and his sheelde a starre,
Alyche[197] twaie[198] brendeynge[199] gronfyres[200] rolls hys eyes, 200
Chastes[201] with hys yronne feete and soundes to war.
She syttes upon a rocke,
She bendes before his speere,
She ryses from the shocke,
Wieldynge her owne yn ayre. 205
Harde as the thonder dothe she drive ytte on,
Wytte scillye[202] wympled[203] gies[204] ytte to hys crowne,
Hys longe sharpe speere, hys spreddynge sheelde ys gon,
He falles, and fallynge rolleth thousandes down.
War, goare-faced war, bie envie burld[205], arist[206], 210
Hys feerie heaulme[207] noddynge to the ayre,
Tenne bloddie arrowes ynne hys streynynge fyste--

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[Footnote 1: Of old, formerly. ]

[Footnote 2: writers, historians. ]

[Footnote 3: much. ]

[Footnote 4: inglorious. ]

[Footnote 5: bereaving. ]

[Footnote 6: faith. ]

[Footnote 7: unforgiving. ]

[Footnote 8: divines, clergymen, monks.