The Rowley Poems - LightNovelsOnl.com
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ELWARDE, bie Syrr _Thybbot Gorges_.
ALSTAN, bie Syrr _Alan de Vere_.
KYNGE EDWARDE, bie Mastre _w.i.l.l.yam Canynge_.
Odhers bie _Knyghtes Mynnstrells_.
PROLOGUE,
Made bie Maistre WILLIAM CANYNGE.
Whylomme[1]bie pensmenne[2] moke[3] ungentle[4] name Have upon G.o.ddwynne Erie of Kente bin layde: Dherebie benymmynge[5] hymme of faie[6] and fame; Unliart[7] divinistres[8] haveth faide, Thatte he was knowen toe noe hallie[9] wurche[10]; 5 Botte thys was all hys faulte, he gyfted ne[11] the churche.
The aucthoure[12] of the piece whiche we enacte, Albeytte[13] a clergyon[14], trouthe wyll wrytte.
Inne drawynge of hys menne no wytte ys lackte; Entyn[15] a kynge mote[16] bee full pleased to nyghte. 10 Attende, and marcke the partes nowe to be done; Wee better for toe doe do champyon[17] anie onne.
G.o.dDWYN; A TRAGEDIE.
G.o.dDWYN AND HAROLDE.
G.o.dDWYN.
Harolde!
HAROLDE.
Mie loverde[18]!
G.o.dDWYN.
O! I weepe to thyncke, What foemen[19] riseth to ifrete[20] the londe.
Theie batten[21] onne her fleshe, her hartes bloude dryncke, And all ys graunted from the roieal honde.
HAROLDE.
Lette notte thie agreme[22] blyn[23], ne aledge[24] stonde; 5 Bee I toe wepe, I wepe in teres of gore: Am I betra.s.sed[25], syke[26] shulde mie burlie[27] bronde Depeyncte[28] the wronges on hym from whom I bore.
G.o.dDWYN.
I ken thie spryte[29] ful welle; gentle thou art, Stringe[30], ugsomme[31], rou[32], as smethynge[33] armyes seeme; 10 Yett efte[34], I feare, thie chefes[35] toe grete a parte, And that thie rede[36] bee efte borne downe bie breme[37].
What tydynges from the kynge?
HAROLDE.
His Normans know.
I make noe compheeres of the shemrynge[38] trayne.
G.o.dDWYN.
Ah Harolde! tis a syghte of myckle woe, 15 To kenne these Normannes everich rennome gayne.
What tydynge withe the foulke[39]?
HAROLDE.
Stylle mormorynge atte yer shap[40], stylle toe the kynge Theie rolle theire trobbles, lyche a sorgie sea.
Hane Englonde thenne a tongue, b.u.t.te notte a stynge? 20 Dothe alle compleyne, yette none wylle ryghted bee?
G.o.dDWYN.
Awayte the tyme, whanne G.o.dde wylle sende us ayde.
HAROLDE.
No, we muste streve to ayde oureselves wyth powre.
Whan G.o.dde wylle sende us ayde! tis fetelie[41] prayde.
Moste we those calke[42] awaie the lyve-longe howre? 25 Thos croche[43] oure armes, and ne toe lyve dareygne[44].
Unburled[45] undelievre[46], unespryte[47]?
Far fro mie harte be fled thyk[48] thoughte of peyne, Ile free mie countrie, or Ille die yn fyghte.
G.o.dDWYN.
Botte lette us wayte untylle somme season fytte. 30 Mie Kentyshmen, thie Summertons shall ryse; Adented[49] prowess[50] to the gite[51] of witte, Agayne the argent[52] horse shall daunce yn skies.
Oh Harolde, heere forstraughteynge[53] wanhope[54] lies.
Englonde, oh Englonde, tys for thee I blethe[55]. 35 Whylste Edwarde to thie sonnes wylle nete alyse[56], Shulde anie of thie sonnes fele aughte of ethe[57]?
Upponne the trone[58] I sette thee, helde thie crowne; Botte oh! twere hommage nowe to pyghte[59] thee downe.
Thou arte all preeste, & notheynge of the kynge. 40 Thou arte all Norman, nothynge of mie blodde.
Know, ytte beseies[60] thee notte a ma.s.se to synge; Servynge thie leegefolcke[61] thou arte servynge G.o.dde.
HAROLDE.
Thenne Ille doe heaven a servyce. To the skyes The dailie contekes[62] of the londe ascende. 45 The wyddowe, fahdrelesse, & bondemennes cries Acheke[63] the mokie[64] aire & heaven astende[65]
On us the rulers doe the folcke depende; Hancelled[66] from erthe these Normanne[67] hyndes shalle bee; Lyche a battently[68] low[69], mie swerde shalle brende[70]; 50 Lyche fallynge softe rayne droppes, I wyll hem[71] slea[72]; Wee wayte too longe; our purpose wylle defayte[73]; Aboune[74] the hyghe empryze[75], & rouze the champyones strayte.
G.o.dDWYN.
Thie suster--
HAROLDE.
Aye, I knowe, she is his queene.
Albeytte[76], dyd shee speeke her foemen[77] fayre, 55 I wulde dequace[78] her comlie semlykeene[79], And foulde mie bloddie anlace[80] yn her hayre.
G.o.dDWYN.
