No More Learning

Lett Celmonde yn thie armour-brace be dyghte;
And yn thie stead unto the battle goe;
Thie name alleyne wylle putte the Danes to flyghte, 340
The ayre thatt beares ytt woulde presse downe the foe.

AELLA.

Birtha, yn vayne thou wouldste mee recreand doe;
I moste, I wylle, fyghte for mie countries wele,
And leave thee for ytt. Celmonde, sweftlie goe,
Telle mie Brystowans to bedyghte yn stele; 345
Tell hem I scorne to kenne hem from afar,
Botte leave the vyrgyn brydall bedde for bedde of warre.




AELLA, BIRTHA.


BIRTHA.

And thou wylt goe; O mie agroted harte!

AELLA.

Mie countrie waites mie marche; I muste awaie;
Albeytte I schulde goe to mete the darte 350
Of certen Dethe, yette here I woulde notte staie.
Botte thos to leave thee, Birtha, dothe asswaie
Moe torturynge peynes yanne canne be sedde bie tyngue,
Yette rouze thie honoure uppe, and wayte the daie,
Whan rounde aboute mee songe of warre heie synge. 355
O Birtha, strev mie agreeme[60] to accaie[61],
And joyous see mie armes, dyghte oute ynn warre arraie.

BIRTHA.

Difficile[62] ys the pennaunce, yette I'lle strev
To keepe mie woe behyltren yn mie breaste.
Albeytte nete maye to mee pleasaunce yev, 360
Lyche thee, I'lle strev to sette mie mynde atte reste.
Yett oh!
forgeve, yff I have thee dystreste;
Love, doughtie love, wylle beare no odher swaie.
Juste as I was wythe AElla to be bleste,
Shappe foullie thos hathe snatched hym awaie. 365
It was a tene too doughtie to bee borne,
Wydhoute an ounde of teares and breaste wyth syghes ytorne.

AELLA.

Thie mynde ys now thieselfe; why wylte thou bee
All blanche, al kyngelie, all soe wyse yn mynde,
Alleyne to lett pore wretched AElla see, 370
Whatte wondrous bighes[63] he nowe muste leave behynde?
O Birtha fayre, warde everyche commynge wynde,
On everych wynde I wylle a token sende;
Onn mie longe shielde ycorne thie name thoul't fynde.
Butte here commes Celmonde, wordhie knyghte and friende. 375




AELLA, BIRTHA, CELMONDE


_speaking. _

Thie Brystowe knyghtes for thie forth-comynge lynge[64];
Echone athwarte hys backe hys longe warre-shield dothe slynge.

AELLA.

Birtha, adieu; but yette I cannotte goe.

BIRTHA.

Lyfe of mie spryte, mie gentle AElla staie. 380
Engyne mee notte wyth syke a drierie woe.

AELLA.

I muste, I wylle; tys honnoure cals awaie.