Dysorder
throughe oure hoaste 575
Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of AElla's name;
Styr, styr, mie lordes!
Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of AElla's name;
Styr, styr, mie lordes!
Thomas Chatterton - Rowley Poems
Whatte matters thatte? lettes sette oure warr-arraie.
Goe, sounde the beme, lette champyons prepare;
Ne doubtynge, we wylle stynghe as faste as heie.
Whatte? doest forgard[83] thie blodde? ys ytte for feare? 565
Wouldest thou gayne the towne, & castle-stere,
And yette ne byker wythe the soldyer guarde?
Go, hyde thee ynn mie tente annethe the lere;
I of thie boddie wylle keepe watche & warde.
MAGNUS.
Oure goddes of Denmarke know mie harte ys goode. 570
HURRA.
For nete uppon the erthe, botte to be choughens foode.
MAGNUS, HURRA, ARMIE, SECONDE MESSENGERRE.
SECONDE MESSENGERRE.
As from mie towre I kende the commynge foe,
I spied the crossed shielde, & bloddie swerde,
The furyous AElla's banner; wythynne kenne
The armie ys.
Dysorder throughe oure hoaste 575
Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of AElla's name;
Styr, styr, mie lordes!
MAGNUS.
What? AElla? & soe neare?
Thenne Denmarques roiend; oh mie rysynge feare!
HURRA.
What doeste thou mene? thys AElla's botte a manne.
Nowe bie mie sworde, thou arte a verie berne[84]. 580
Of late I dyd thie creand valoure scanne,
Whanne thou dydst boaste soe moche of actyon derne.
Botte I toe warr mie doeynges moste atturne,
To cheere the Sabbataneres to deere dede.
MAGNUS.
I to the knyghtes onne everyche syde wylle burne, 585
Telleynge 'hem alle to make her foemen blede;
Sythe shame or deathe onne eidher syde wylle bee,
Mie harte I wylle upryse, & inne the battelle slea.
AELLA, CELMONDE, & ARMIE _near_ WATCHETTE.
AELLA.
