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.
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.
Thomas Chatterton - Rowley Poems
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--
* * * * *
[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. ]
[Footnote 9: holy. ]
[Footnote 10: work. ]
[Footnote 11: not. ]
[Footnote 12: author. ]
[Footnote 13: though, notwithstanding. ]
[Footnote 14: clerk, or clergyman. ]
[Footnote 15: entyn, even.