Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, RICHARD COEUR DE LION: HOW RICHARD WON THE NAME OF COEUR DE LION, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

RICHARD COEUR DE LION: HOW RICHARD WON THE NAME OF COEUR DE LION, by                    
First Line: "now they dight them speedily / these three knights, to set to sea"
Last Line: "as a king sends for his queen - / this the better rede, I ween.'"
Subject(s): "richard I, King Of England (1157-1199);


Now they dight them speedily
These three knights, to set to sea,
Hoisted sail, the wind was good,
Swift they crossed the salt sea flood,
Into Flanders did they go,
Richard, and his comrades two;
Took their way, with gladsome cheer,
Thro' strange lands, both far and near,
Till to Brindisi they came,
('T is a haven of great fame.)
There a goodly ship they found
Which was unto Cyprus bound,
The sail was raised, the ship was strong,
But the voyage, they deemed it long,
When 't was o'er, I understand,
They did in Famagusta land;
There they tarried forty days
Of that land to learn the ways.
Then once more they set to sea,
Came to Acre speedily,
Thence they passed to Macedon,
And the city, Babylon.
They would Caesarea see --
Then would pass to Nineveh;
Came unto Jerusalem,
And the town of Bethlehem;
Saw the Sultan Turry's hold,
Ebuda did there behold,
And the Castle Orgelous,
And the city Aperrous;
To Jaffa go, and to Safrane,
To Tabaret, and eke Archane.
Thus they spied the Holy Land,
How to win it to their hand;
Homeward turned their face at last,
Into England fain had passed.
When they came o'er the great sea
To Almayne, those palmers three,
There they wrought, ere hence they go,
That which brought them mickle woe;
How it chanced I now will tell,
Lordings, listen to me well!
They had bought a goose for fare
In the tavern where they were;
Richard stirred the fire, I wit,
Thomas set the goose on spit,
Fulk d'Oyley, he trimmed the wood --
Very dear they bought that food!
When they well had dined that day
Came a minstrel on his way,
And he quoth: "Good men, be ye
Pleased to hear my minstrelsie?"
Richard bade him forth to go,
Words that turned to mickle woe,
For he laid that speech to mind,
Saying: "Ye be men unkind,
Ye shall rue, if so I may,
That ye gave me naught to-day,
Gentlemen should well entreat
Minstrels whom they chance to meet,
Of their meat and drink be free,
Fame is spread thro' minstrelsie!"
English, he the English knew
By their speech, and look, and hue;
On his road he went that day
Where the King of Almayne lay,
To the castle hath he gone,
With the porter spake anon:
"Go, nor wait for summoning,
Speak thus to thy lord the King:
"There be come unto thy land
Palmers three, a valiant band,
In Christendom the strongest they
And their names I'll tell straightway,
'T is King Richard, warrior grim,
Comrades twain he leads with him,
Sir Fulk d'Oyley, of renown,
And Sir Thomas of Multoun."
Sped the porter to the hall,
Told his lord these tidings all,
Glad, the king, he hearkened there
And by Heaven an oath he sware
He who brought to him this tale
For reward he should not fail.
Then his knights he bade straightway
To the city take their way:
"Take ye now these palmers three,
Bring them swiftly here to me."
Forth in haste those knights have gone
Unto Richard came anon,
Asked: "Who here at meat may be?"
Richard answered, fair and free:
"We be palmers three, no less,
Come from lands of heatheness,"
Spake the knights in answer there
"To the king ye needs must fare
Of your tidings is he fain --"
With the three they turn again;
When King Richard he did see,
"Dieu me garde," he quoth, "'t is he --
Yea, in sooth, my deadly foe,
Hence he shall not lightly go!"
Straight he doth of them demand,
"Say, what seek ye in my land?"
Quoth again: "With traitorous eye
Ye be come my lands to spy,
Treason would ye work on me!"
Quoth King Richard, readily,
"We be palmers, sooth to say,
From God's Land we pass this way."
Called the King on Richard's name,
Spake unto him words of shame:
"Now for king I know thee well,
These thy knights, tho' sooth to tell
Thou dost seem but ill bedight;
So I say it is but right
That thou in foul dungeon lie
Right and reason here have I!"
Richard quoth, with heart so free:
"Thou dost ill, so seemeth me,
Palmers passing on their way
Should go free, by night or day,
Nay, Sir King, for courtesie
Do us here no villainie,
For His Love Who thee hath bought
Let us go, and grieve us naught;
It may to your lot betide
In strange lands to wander wide."
But the king, he bade ere long
Shut them fast in prison strong.
Then the jailer at command
Took King Richard by the hand
And with him his comrades twain --
Food they might not taste again
Till the morrow waxed to prime.
The king's son, at that same time,
(Arthur was the prince's name,)
Thought to do King Richard shame,
(He was held throughout the land
For the strongest man of hand,)
To the jailer then quoth he:
"Let me now the prisoners see!"
Quoth the jailer, "At thy will
Thy command I will fulfil."
Swift he bringeth them anon,
And King Richard first hath gone,
The king's son, he spake forthright,
"Art thou Richard, that strong knight,
Whom men praise in every land?
Wilt a buffet from me stand,
And anon, as I shall live,
Thou shalt me a buffet give?"
Then King Richard, undismayed,
Hath with him this forward made,
And the king's son, proud and brave,
Such a blow to Richard gave
From his eyes, the fire, it sprung --
Richard deemed he did him wrong:
"By Saint Helena, I swear,
With the morn to pay thee fair!"
The king's son, he mocked him still,
Bade them give him, at his will,
Both of drink, and eke of meat,
Of the best that he might eat,
That he thirst nor hunger know
Lest o'er-feeble be his blow.
On the morrow when 't was day,
Richard rose, without delay,
And a fire he hath him dight,
Wax he took, so fair and white,
At the fire he waxed his hand
All about, I understand.
Came the king's son, free and bold,
As true man, his pledge to hold,
And before King Richard stood,
Spake to him, with eager mood:
"Richard, smite with all thy might
As thou wouldst be held true knight,
And if e'er I stoop or yield
May I never carry shield!"
'Neath his cheek his hand he laid,
(He who saw it soothly said,)
Flesh and skin were torn away;
In a swoon he fell that day,
For in twain it brake, the bone,
He fell dead as any stone!
To the king a knight then sped,
Bare to him these tidings dread:
"Richard, he hath slain thy son!"
"Woe is me! Now have I none!"
With that cry he fell to ground
As a man by woe fast bound,
Swooned for sorrow at their feet;
Knights, they raised him as was meet,
Saying: "Sire, turn from this thought,
Now 't is done, 't will help us naught!"
Then the king aloud did cry
To the knights who stood near by,
Saying: "I to hear am fain
In what manner he was slain!"
Silent stood they every one,
Yea, for sorrow speaketh none;
At their cry she came, the queen,
Cried: "Alas! What here hath been?
Why this sorrow, this despair?
Who hath brought ye all to care?"
"Dame," he quoth, "say, know'st thou naught?
Thy fair son to death is brought!
Since the day that I was born
No such grief my heart hath torn,
All to loss is turned my gain,
Yea, myself I fain had slain!"
When the queen, she understood,
Certes, she was well nigh wood,
With her nails her cheeks she tare
As one doth in madness fare,
Covered was her face with blood --
Rent the robe wherein she stood,
Cursed the day she first drew breath;
"Say, how was he done to death?"
Saith the king, "I'll tell to thee,
Here the knight who told it me,
Say the sooth," so spake the king,
"In what wise it chanced this thing,
If thou aught but truth shalt say
An ill death shalt die to-day!"
Then he doth the jailer call,
Bade him stand before them all,
Bear them witness here again
How the king's son had been slain.
He quoth: "Yesterday, at prime,
Came your son, in evil time,
To the prison door, to me;
Said, the palmers he would see,
Bade me fetch them forth to show: --
First of all did Richard go,
Straightway Arthur asked him there,
If to stand a blow he'ld dare
If so, as true knight in land,
He would take one from his hand.
Richard answered: 'By this light,
Smite at will, and do thy might!'
Arthur smote him such a blow
That he well nigh laid him low,
Saith, 'Now here I challenge thee
Such, at morn, to give to me.'
So they parted in this wise,
With the morn did Richard rise
And your son, again he came;
Richard met him at that same
As the forward 'twixt them lay,
Richard smote him, sooth to say,
Smote his cheek-bone there in twain --
Fell your son before him slain.
Here I swear I truly tell
In this wise his death, it fell."
Quoth the king with eager will:
"There in prison keep them still,
And in fetters bind with speed;
Trow me, for this evil deed,
In that he hath slain my son,
He shall now to death be done."
Forthwith doth the jailer go,
Swift his lord's command will do,
Meat that day the knights had naught,
Never drink to them was brought.
The king's daughter, that same day,
With her maids, in bower she lay,
Margery, she hight, that maid,
She her love on Richard laid;
At the midday, ere 't was noon,
To the prison hath she gone,
Taking with her maidens three --
"Jailer," quoth she, "let me see
These thy prisoners hastily."
Quoth the jailer, "Certainly."
Richard did he bring forthright,
Fair he greets that lady bright,
Saith to her with heart so free,
"Lady, what wilt thou with me?"
When her eyes on him she cast
Love of him hath gripped her fast,
And she quoth: "Save God above
O'er all things I do thee love!"
Richard answered in that stound.
"Nay! With wrong brought here to ground,
What may my love profit thee?
Captive I, as thou mayst see,
Now a second day hath gone
That of food I have had none!"
Then the maid, of great pitie,
Said this should amended be,
And she bade the jailer there
Meat and drink to him to bear,
And the irons from him take --
"Do thou this, for thine own sake,
And at eve, when supper's done,
Bring him to my bower anon,
A squire's vesture shall he wear,
I myself will keep him there,
By Christ, and by Saint Simon, thou
Shalt have guerdon fair, I trow!"
The jailer, he forgat it naught,
To her bower was Richard brought,
With the princess dwelt he still,
Of her favours had his fill,
Thus, until the seventh day,
Came and went he on his way.
Then hath spied on him a knight,
How he came to her by night,
To the king he spake with tongue:
"Shamed is now thy daughter young!"
And the king, he asked anon:
"Say, who now this deed hath done?"
"This that traitor Richard, he
Who hath thus dishonoured thee,
On my faith as Christian, know
I have seen him come and go!"
Then the king, he sighed full sore,
But to him he spake no more,
Swiftly did he send withal,
Did his council to him call,
Earls and barons, clerks also,
They should hear the words of woe.
Forth the messengers are gone --
Came the councillors anon,
It was on the fourteenth day
That they came, the tale doth say.
With one voice the king they greet,
Saith the tale, and fair entreat,
"Lords," he quoth, "be welcome all."
Forth they went unto the hall,
There the king his seat doth take
And without delay he spake --
"Lordings, I have bid ye come
That ye speak a traitor's doom,
Richard, who hath done this wrong
Lies now in my prison strong;"
Then he told them of his pain,
How his son by him was slain,
And his daughter brought to shame --
"I had killed him at this same
Save the law doth straitly say
That no man a king may slay."
Then out spake a baron bold:
"How came Richard in your hold,
Who so great a king is thought
That no man dare do him aught?"
Then he told them in what wise
He had come there, in disguise,
And two others with him came,
Noble lords, of knightly fame --
"I, suspecting them alway
Did them fast in prison lay."
Leave the king hath taken there,
Bade them to a hall repair,
And take counsel there alone,
Of what now might best be done.
Thus in speech they conned it o'er
For three days, I ween, and more.
Some had slain him willingly,
Some said, 't would unlawful be,
In this wise with jangling word
Could they come to no accord.
"Truly," said the wisest there,
"We his doom may not declare."
These the tidings that they tell
To their king, believe me well!
Swift a knight spake to the king:
"Vex thee not, Sire, for this thing,
Sooth, I wis, Sir Eldred, he
Soon shall tell what best may be,
Counsel ye right well he can,
He hath doomed full many a man."
Then the king, without delay,
Bade Sir Eldred come straightway,
He was brought before the king,
And he prayed him of this thing:
"How may I avenged be
Of King Richard, tell to me!"
Quoth Sir Eldred, "Sooth to tell,
Thereon have I pondered well,
Ye wot well 't is 'gainst the law
Majesty to hang and draw,
This shall now my counsel be,
Take your lion speedily,
And withhold from him his meat
That for three days naught he eat,
Shut ye Richard in a hall,
Loose the lion on him withal,
In this wise he slain may be
And the law kept, verily,
When the lion thy foe hath slain
Hast thou fitting vengeance ta'en."
But the maid, she did espy
How he should, thro' treason, die,
Sent to call him speedily
That he warned thereof should be.
Came he to her bower straightway --
"Welcome, Love," she said that day,
"Know, my father doometh thee,
Three days hence thou slain shalt be,
In a chamber shut full close
They on thee a lion will loose,
Famishing, and hungered sore,
Then, I trow, thy life is o'er.
But, dear Love, (this wise she spake,)
Hence to-night our flight we'll take,
With us gold and treasure store
That may last us evermore."
Richard quoth: "Nay, nay, not so,
'T were unlawful thus to do,
So to fly, nor take our leave,
Loth were I the king to grieve.
For the lion care I naught,
How to slay him have I thought,
And by prime, on this third day
Thou shalt have his heart for prey."
Then he kerchieves prayed, of silk --
"Give me forty, white as milk,
To the prison bring them all
Ere the shades of evening fall."
When the hour had come, straightway
Went the maid upon her way,
And with her a noble knight, --
There they had a supper dight,
Richard bade his comrades two
With him to her supper go:
"And, Sir Jailer, come thou still,
For it is my lady's will."
That night were they glad and gay,
Then to chamber took their way,
Richard and that lady bright
Stayed together all that night.
At the morn, when it was day,
Richard bade her go her way;
"Nay," she quoth, "by God above
I shall die here with my love;
Here I will with thee abide
E'en tho' death should now betide,
Certes, hence I will not wend,
But will here await mine end."
Richard quoth: "Now, lady free,
Save thou swiftly go from me
Thou shalt surely grieve me sore
That I ne'er may love thee more."
Then again she answered: "Nay,
If so be, then Love, Good-day,
God, Who died upon the Tree,
Save thee, if His Will so be!"
Then the kerchieves hath he wound
Round his arms, full tightly bound,
For he surely hoped that day
With some wile the lion to slay;
But a kirtle did he wear
And the lion awaited there.
Then the jailer came anon,
Other two with him have gone,
With them lead the lion strong,
Claws had he both sharp and long,
Richard cried: "Help, Heaven's King!"
Swift the lion on him did spring,
Fain had torn him in that tide --
But King Richard sprang aside,
With his fist the lion he spurned
That the beast around he turned,
Famished was the lion sans fail,
Wrathful, bit at his own tail,
Then the wall he clawed that stead,
All about his paws he spread,
Roaring loud, with jaws gaped wide --
Richard saw right well that tide
What to do -- he thrust full fast,
Down his throat his arm he passed,
Tore out with his hand the heart,
Lungs and liver rent apart,
On the ground the lion fell dead --
Scatheless all the king that stead;
Down he kneeled in that place,
Gave God thanks for this, His Grace,
Shielding him from shame and harm --
Then he took the heart, yet warm,
Bare it swiftly to the hall,
'Fore the king and courtiers all;
Sat the king at meat that day,
Dukes and earls in great array,
On the board the salt it stood --
Richard pressed out all the blood,
Dipped the heart the salt within,
(All beheld who sat therein,)
Without bread the heart he ate.
Marvelled much the king thereat:
"Now it seemeth me, I wis,
This a fiend and no man is,
Who hath now my lion slain
And his heart from out him ta'en,
Of good will that heart did eat,
Men shall call him, as is meet,
Christened king of greatest fame,
Coeur-de-Lion shall be his name!"
Speak we no more of this thing,
Hearken how he did, the king,
Mournful doth he fare withal,
Caitiff he himself doth call,
Cursed the hour that he was born
To be thus of son forlorn,
And his daughter shamed to see,
While his lion slain should be.
Earls and barons came, I ween,
To her lord she hastes, the queen,
Asked of him what did him ail?
"Well ye wot," he quoth, "the tale,
If I now in mourning go
'T is for Richard, my strong foe,
Who such harm on me hath wrought
Yet may not to death be brought;
So I deem that from his hand
Ransom I may well demand,
'Gainst the Sacrament hath he
Shamed my daughter, verily,
From each church where priest shall sing,
Mass be said, or bell shall ring,
If two chalices there be
One of them shall be for me;
And if there be more than twain
I to have the half am fain.
When they bring me this as fee
Then shall Richard be set free."
Thus, he said it shall be done --
Then his lords assent anon,
And they call King Richard near
That the judgment he may hear.
Richard cometh to the hall,
Greets the king and barons all,
Quoth the king: "Know, verily,
This our judgment and decree,
Thou shalt ransom pay forthright
For thyself, and for each knight.
Every church throughout thy land
Shall pay tribute to my hand,
Where two chalices there be
One of them be brought to me,
And wherever there be more
I take half of all the store.
Thro' thy kingdom, mark it now,
I will have the half, I trow,
When thou this to me shalt pay
Thou hast leave to wend thy way,
And my daughter take with thee
That ye twain I no more see."
Richard quoth: "As thou hast said,
So our forward fast be made."
Then spake Richard, fair and free,
Said: "Who now will go for me,
Seek my chancellor straightway
That he here my ransom pay?
Whoso, faithful, comes again
Shall have guerdon for his pain."
Rose a knight so courteous there,
Said: "Thine errand I will bear."
Richard did a letter write,
(A skilled clerk did it indite,)
And therein he mention made
How the ransom should be paid.
"Greeting shall ye bear again
Unto my archbishops twain,
To my chancellor now say
That my letter he obey,
And if they in nowise fail
It shall mickle them avail."
Then he sealed the script that day --
The knight maketh no delay
But made ready speedily
For to sail across the sea.
When he to his goal was brought
On his task forgat he naught,
Swift to London did he go,
There the folk he found in woe,
With the letter, as I say,
To th' archbishops made his way,
Bade them swift the writing read --
"It was sent in mickle need."
There they read among them all
How the matter did befall,
How their king, betrayed to hate,
In Almayne did ransom wait:
"He hath slain the emperor's son,
And his daughter hath undone,
And hath killed his lion also --
All this harm he there did do."
Straight they bade their clerks to hie
To the churches, severally,
That their errand swift be wrought
And the treasure to them brought.
"Messenger," so spake they there,
"Here shalt dwell, and thus shalt fare;
Bishops five shall ride with thee,
And five barons, certainlie,
Other folk shalt have enow,
We shall fail thee not, I trow."
Of each kirk, both less and more,
Gather they the treasure store,
O'er the sea their way they take
That they may their offering make,
Thus unto the city fare,
To the king their greeting bear,
Quoth, as they themselves bethought:
"We have here the ransom brought,
Take it, as your will shall be,
And set these, your prisoners, free."
Quoth the king: "They have my leave,
I will them no longer grieve."
Takes his daughter by the hand,
Bids her straightway leave his land.
Then the queen, in that same hour
Called her daughter to her bower,
Saith, "Thou here shalt dwell with me
Till King Richard sends for thee,
As a king sends for his queen --
This the better rede, I ween."





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