« ПредишнаНапред »
Fulfyld with malice of froward entente,
Confeterd togeder of commoun concente Falsly to flo ther mofte fingular goode lorde? It may be registerde of shamefull recorde.
So noble a man, fo valiaunt torde and knight,
Fulfilled with honor, as all the worlde dothe ken; 30 At his commandement, whiche had both day and night
Knyghtis and fquyers, at every feafon when
He calde upon them, as menyall houfhold men : Were no thes commones uncurteis karlis of kynde To flo their owne lorde ? God was not in their minde. 35
1 And were not they to blame, I say also,
That were aboute hym, his owne fervants of trust, To fuffre hym flayn of his mortall for
Fled away from hym, let hym ly in the duft:
They bode not till the rekening were discuft. 40 What fuld I fatter? what fhulde I glose or faynt ? Fy, fy for shame, their harts wer to faint.
In Englande and Fraunce, which gretly was redouted ;
()fwhom both Flaunders and Scotland ftode in drede; To whome grete aftates obeyde and lowttede ; 45
Amayny of rude villayns made him for to blede:
Unkindlý they slew hym, that help them oft at nede: He was their bulwark, their paves, and their wall, Yet thamfully they flew hym; that fhame mot them be
I say, ye comoners, why wer ye so stark mad ?
50 What frantyk frenfy fyll in youre brayne ? Where was your wit and reson, ye shuld have had ?
What willfull foly made yow to ryfe agayne
Your naturall lord ? alas ! I can not fayne.
Redy to aflyst you in every tyme of nede :
· Alas! ye mad men, to far ye did excede: 6@ .
Your hap was unhappy, to ill was your spede:
of all the hole lande, 65 Demaundyng foche dutyes as nedis most acord [stand;
To the right of his prii ce which shold not be with
For whos cause ye flew hym with your awne hande:
70 But ther was fals packinge, or els I am begylde:
How-be-it the mater was evident and playne,
This noble man doutles had not be slayne.
Bot men fay they wer lynked with a double chayn, 75
The commouns renyed ther taxes to pay
Of them demaunded and asked by the kynge ; With one voice importune, they playnly said nay: 80 They bust them on abushment themself in baile to
bringe : Agayne the kings plesure to wrastle or to wringe, Bluntly as beftis withe bofte and with cry They saide, they forsede not, nor carede not to dy. The noblenes of the northe this valiant lorde and knyght,
85 As man that was innocent of trechery or trayne, Prefed forthe boldly to witftand the myght,
And, lyke marciall Hector, he fauht them agayne,
Vigorously upon them with myght and with mayne, Trustinge in noble men that wer with hym there : 90 Bot all they fled from hym for falshode or fere. Barons, knights, quyers, one and alle,
Togeder with servaunts of his famuly, Turnd their backis, and let ther master fall, Of whos [life] they counted not a Aye ;
95 Take up whos wolde for them, they let hym ly. Alas! his golde, his fee, his annuall rente Upon suche a fort was ille bestowde and spent. He was envyronde aboute on every fyde
Withe his enemys, that were stark mad and wode; 100 Yet whils he ftode he gave them woundes wyde:
Alas for routhe! what thouche his mynde were goode,
All left alone, alas ! he fawte in vayne ;
The famous erle of Northumberlande :
The myghty lyoun doutted by se and lande !
o dolorous chaunce of fortuns fruward hande!
O dolorous teufday, dedicate to thy náme,
Ogrounde ungracious, unhappy be thy fame,
Whiche wert endyed with rede blode of the same!
Goddes mooste cruell unto the lyf of man,
O homycide, whiche fleeft all that thou kan,
So forcibly upon this erle thow rang
Of aureat poems they want ellumynynge ;
Of this lordis dethe and of his murdrynge. 130
Of knights, of squyers, chef lord of toure and toune,
Sourmountinge in honor all erls he did excede, 135
Lyke to Eneas benygne in worde and dede,
Valiaunt as Hector in every marciall nede,
With my rude pen enkankerd all with ruft ?
Transcendyng far myne homely muse, that muft
Yet sumwhat wright fupprifid with hartly luit, 145
Trew to his prince for to defende his right,
Treytory and treson he bannelht out of syght,
With trowth to medle was all his hole delyght,
it was grete
If the hole quere of the musis nyne
In me all onely wer sett and comprisyde,
As perfightly as could be thought or devysyd;