The Rowley Poems Part 26

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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 s.h.i.+elde ycorne thie name thoul't fynde.

b.u.t.te 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-s.h.i.+eld 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.

BIRTHA.

O mie agroted harte, braste, braste ynn twaie.

aella, for honnoure, flyes awaie from mee.

aeLLA.

Birtha, adieu; I maie notte here obaie. 385 I'm flyynge from mieselfe yn flying thee.

BIRTHA.

O aella, housband, friend, and loverde, staie.

He's gon, he's gone, ala.s.s! percase he's gone for aie.

CELMONDE.

Hope, hallie suster, sweepeynge thro' the skie, In crowne of goulde, and robe of lillie whyte, 390 Whyche farre abrode ynne gentle ayre doe flie, Meetynge from dystaunce the enjoyous fyghte, Albeytte efte thou takest thie hie flyghte Hecket[65] ynne a myste, and wyth thyne eyne yblente, Nowe commest thou to mee wythe starrie lyghte; 395 Ontoe thie veste the rodde sonne ys adente[66]; The Sommer tyde, the month of Maie appere, Depycte wythe skylledd honde upponn thie wyde aumere.

I from a nete of hopelen am adawed, Awhaped[67] atte the fetyveness of daie; 400 aella, bie nete moe thann hys myndbruche awed, Is gone, and I moste followe, toe the fraie.

Celmonde canne ne'er from anie byker staie.

Dothe warre begynne? there's Celmonde yn the place.

Botte whanne the warre ys donne, I'll haste awaie.

The reste from nethe tymes masque must shew yttes face. 405 I see onnombered joies arounde mee ryse; Blake[68] stondethe future doome, and joie dothe mee alyse.

O honnoure, honnoure, whatt ys bie thee hanne?

Hailie the robber and the bordelyer, 410 Who kens ne thee, or ys to thee bestanne, And nothynge does thie myckle gastness fere.

Faygne woulde I from mie bosomme alle thee tare.

Thou there dysperpellest[69] thie levynne-bronde; Whylest mie soulgh's forwyned, thou art the gare; 415 Sleene ys mie comforte bie thie ferie honde; As somme talle hylle, whann wynds doe shake the ground, Itte kerveth all abroade, bie brasteynge hyltren wounde.

Honnoure, whatt bee ytte? tys a shadowes shade, A thynge of wychencref, an idle dreme; 420 On of the fonnis whych the clerche have made Menne wydhoute sprytes, and wommen for to fleme; Knyghtes, who efte kenne the loude dynne of the beme, Schulde be forgarde to syke enfeeblynge waies, Make everych acte, alyche theyr soules, be breme, 425 And for theyre chyvalrie alleyne have prayse.

O thou, whatteer thie name, Or Zabalus or Queed, Comme, steel mie sable spryte, For fremde[70] and dolefulle dede. 430

MAGNUS, HURRA, _and_ HIE PREESTE, _wyth the_ ARMIE, _neare_ Watchette.

MAGNUS.

Swythe[71] lette the offrendes[72] to the G.o.ddes begynne.

To knowe of hem the issue of the fyghte.

Potte the blodde-steyned sword and pavyes ynne; Spreade swythyn all arounde the hallie lyghte.

HIE PREESTE _syngeth_.

Yee, who hie yn mokie ayre 435 Delethe seasonnes foule or fayre, Yee, who, whanne yee weere agguylte, The mone yn bloddie gyttelles[73] hylte, Mooved the starres, and dyd unbynde Everyche barriere to the wynde; 440 Whanne the oundynge waves dystreste, Stroven to be overest, Sockeynge yn the spyre-gyrte towne, Swolterynge wole natyones downe, Sendynge dethe, on plagues astrodde, 445 Moovynge lyke the erthys G.o.dde; To mee send your heste dyvyne, Lyghte eletten[74] all myne eyne, Thatt I maie now undevyse All the actyonnes of th'empprize. 450 [_falleth downe and efte rysethe._ Thus sayethe the G.o.ddes; goe, yssue to the playne; Forr there shall meynte of mytte menne bee slayne.

MAGNUS.

Whie, foe there evere was, whanne Magnus foughte.

Efte have I treynted noyance throughe the hoaste, Athorowe swerdes, alyche the Queed dystraughte, 455 Have Magnus pressynge wroghte hys foemen loaste.

As whanne a tempeste vexethe soare the coaste, The dyngeynge ounde the sandeie stronde doe tare, So dyd I inne the warre the javlynne toste, Full meynte a champyonnes breaste received mie spear. 460 Mie sheelde, lyche sommere morie gronfer droke, Mie lethalle speere, alyche a levyn-mylted oke.

HURRA.

Thie wordes are greate, full hyghe of sound, and eeke Lyche thonderre, to the whych dothe comme no rayne.

Itte lacketh notte a doughtie honde to speke; 465 The c.o.c.ke saiethe drefte[75], yett armed ys he alleyne.

Certis thie wordes maie, thou motest have sayne Of mee, and meynte of moe, who eke canne fyghte, Who haveth trodden downe the adventayle, And tore the heaulmes from heades of myckle myghte. 470 Sythence syke myghte ys placed yn thie honde, Lette blowes thie actyons speeke, and bie thie corrage stonde.

MAGNUS.

Thou are a warrioure, Hurra, thatte I kenne, And myckle famed for thie handie dede.

Thou fyghtest anente[76] maydens and ne menne, 475 Nor aie thou makest armed hartes to blede.

Efte I, caparyson'd on bloddie stede, Havethe thee seene binethe mee ynn the fyghte, Wythe corses I investynge everich mede, And thou aston, and wondrynge at mie myghte. 480 Thanne wouldest thou comme yn for mie renome, Albeytte thou wouldst reyne awaie from bloddie dome?

HURRA.