Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, POEM: 1, by LAURENCE MINOT


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

POEM: 1, by                    
First Line: Trew king, pat sittes in trone
Last Line: In ingland help vs to haue þese.
Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; England; Scotland; War; English


TREW king, þat sittes in trone,
Vnto þe I tell my tale,
And vnto be I bid a bone,
For þou ert bute of all my bale.
Als þou made midelerd and be mone
And bestes and fowles grete and smale,
Vnto me send þi socore sone
And dresce my dedes in his dale.

In þis dale I drouþe and dare
For dern dedes þat done me dere.
Of Ingland had my hert grete care
When Edward founded first to were.
þe Franche men war frek to fare
Ogaines him, with scheld and sþere;
þai turned ogayn with sides sare,
And al þaire pomp noght worth a pere.

A þere of prise es more sum tydeÞan all be boste of Normondye.
þai sent þaire schipþes on ilka side
With flesch and wine and whete & rye.
With hert and hand, es noght at hide,
For to help Scotland gan þai hye:
þai fled, and durst no dede habide,
And all þaire fare noght wurth a flye.

ffor all þaire fare þai durst noght fight,
For dedes dint had þai slike dout;
Of Scotland had þai neuer sight
Ay whils þai war of wordes stout.
þai wald haue mend pam at þaire might
And besy war þai pareobout.
Now God help Edward in his right,
Amen, and all his redy rowt.

His redy rout mot Ihesu sþede
And saue pam both by night and day;
þat lord of heuyn mot Edward lede
And maintene him als he wele may.
þe Scottes now all wide will sprede
For þai haue failed of þaire pray;
Now er þai dareand all for dredeÞat war bifore so stout and gay.

Gai þai war and wele þai thoght
On þe Erle Morre and oþer ma;
þai said it suld ful dere be boghtÞe land þat þai war flemid
fra.
Philip Valays wordes wroght
And said he suld þaire enmys sla;
Bot all þaire wordes was for noght,Þai mun be met if þai war
ma.

Ma manasinges zit haue þai maked,
Mawgre mot þai haue to mede.
And many nightes als haue þai waked
To dere all Ingland with þaire dede.
Bot, loued be God, þe pride es slaked
Of pam þat war so stout on stede,
And sum of pam es leuid all naked
Noght fer fro Berwik opon Twede.

A litell fro þat forsaid toune
Halydon hill þat es þe name,
Pare was crakked many a crowne
Of wild Scottes and alls of tame:
Pare was þaire baner born all doune;
To mak slike boste þai war to blame:
Bot neuer þe les ay er þai boune
To wait Ingland with sorow and schame.

Shame þai haue als I here say;
At Donde now es done þaire daunce,
And wend þai most anoþer way
Euyn thurgh Flandres into France.
On Filip Valas fast cri þai
Pare for to dwell and him avaunce;
And no thing list pam þan of play
Sen pam es tide þis sary chance.

þis sary chaunce pam es bitid,
For þai war fals and wonder fell;
For cursed caitefes er þai kid
And ful of treson, suth to tell.
Sir Ion þe Comyn had þai hid,
In haly kirk þai did him qwell;
And parfore many a Skottis brid
With dole er dight þat þai most dwell.

Pare dwelled oure king, þe suth to saine,
With his menge a litell while;
He gaf gude confort on þat plaine
To all his men obout a myle.
All if his men war mekill of maine
Euer þai douted pam of gile;
þe Scottes gaudes might no thing gain,
For all þai stumbilde at þat stile.

Pus in þat stowre þai left þaire liueÞat war bifore so proud
in prese.
Ihesu, for pi woundes fiue,
In Ingland help vs to haue þese.





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