Part 17

Kend it es how ȝe war kene Al Inglis men with dole to dere. 10 Þaire gudes toke ȝe al bidene, No man born wald ȝe forbere. Ȝe spared noght with swerd ne spere To stik þam, and þaire gudes to stele. With wapin and with ded of were 15 Þus haue ȝe wonnen werldes wele.

Weleful men war ȝe iwis, Bot fer on fold sall ȝe noght fare: A bare sal now abate ȝowre blis And wirk ȝow bale on bankes bare. 20 He sall ȝow hunt, als hund dose hare, Þat in no hole sall ȝe ȝow hide; For all ȝowre speche will he noght spare, Bot bigges him right by ȝowre side.

Biside ȝow here þe bare bigins 25 To big his boure in winter tyde, And all bityme takes he his ines With semly se gantes him biside. Þe word of him walkes ful wide— Iesu saue him fro mischance! 30 In bataill dar he wele habide Sir Philip and Sir Iohn of France.

Þe Franche men er fers and fell, And mase grete dray when þai er dight; Of þam men herd slike tales tell, 35 With Edward think þai for to fight, Him for to hald out of his right, And do him treson with þaire tales: Þat was þaire purpos, day and night, Bi counsail of þe Cardinales. 40

Cardinales with hattes rede War fro Calays wele thre myle; Þai toke þaire counsail in þat stede How þai might Sir Edward bigile. Þai lended þare bot litill while 45 Till Franche men to grante þaire grace: Sir Philip was funden a file, He fled and faght noght in þat place.

In þat place þe bare was blith, For all was funden þat he had soght. 50 Philip þe Valas fled ful swith With þe batail þat he had broght. For to haue Calays had he thoght All at his ledeing, loud or still; Bot all þaire wiles war for noght: 55 Edward wan it at his will.

Lystens now, and ȝe may lere, Als men þe suth may vnderstand, Þe knightes þat in Calais were Come to Sir Edward sare wepeand. 60 In kirtell one, and swerd in hand, And cried, 'Sir Edward, þine are. Do now, lord, bi law of land Þi will with vs for euermare'.

Þe nobill burgase and þe best 65 Come vnto him to haue þaire hire. Þe comun puple war ful prest Rapes to bring obout þaire swire. Þai said all: 'Sir Philip, oure syre, And his sun, Sir Iohn of France, 70 Has left vs ligand in þe mire, And broght vs till þis doleful dance.

Our horses þat war faire and fat Er etin vp ilkone bidene; Haue we nowþer conig ne cat 75 Þat þai ne er etin, and hundes kene Al er etin vp ful clene— Es nowther leuid biche ne whelp— Þat es wele on oure sembland sene, And þai er fled þat suld vs help.' 80

A knight þat was of grete renowne— Sir Iohn de Viene was his name— He was wardaine of þe toune And had done Ingland mekill schame. For all þaire boste þai er to blame, 85 Ful stalworthly þare haue þai streuyn. A bare es cumen to mak þam tame, Kayes of þe toun to him er gifen.

Þe kaies er ȝolden him of þe ȝate,— Lat him now kepe þam if he kun. 90 To Calais cum þai all to late, Sir Philip, and Sir Iohn his sun. Al war ful ferd þat þare ware fun, Þaire leders may þai barely ban. All on þis wise was Calais won: 95 God saue þam þat it sogat wan!

C. ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD III, A.D. 1377.

Bodleian MS. Vernon (about 1400), f. 4106.

A! dere God, what mai þis be, Þat alle þing weres and wasteþ awai? Frendschip is but a vanyté, Vnneþe hit dures al a day. Þei beo so sliper at assai, 5 So leof to han, and loþ to lete, And so fikel in heore fai, Þat selden iseiȝe is sone forȝete.

I sei hit not wiþouten a cause, And þerfore takes riht good hede, 10 For ȝif ȝe construwe wel þis clause, I puit ȝou holly out of drede Þat for puire schame ȝor hertes wol blede And ȝe þis matere wysli trete: He þat was vr moste spede 15 Is selden iseye and sone forȝete.

Sum tyme an Englisch schip we had, Nobel hit was and heih of tour, Þorw al Cristendam hit was drad, And stif wolde stande in vch a stour, 20 And best dorst byde a scharp schour, And oþer stormes, smale and grete. Now is þat schip, þat bar þe flour, Selden seȝe and sone forȝete.

Into þat schip þer longed a rooþur 25 Þat steered þe schip and gouerned hit; In al þis world nis such anoþur, As me þinkeþ in my wit. Whyl schip and roþur togeder was knit, Þei dredde nouþer tempest, druyȝe nor wete; 30 Nou be þei boþe in synder flit, Þat selden seyȝe is sone forȝete.

Scharpe wawes þat schip has sayled, And sayed alle sees at auentur. For wynt ne wederes neuer hit fayled 35 Whil þe roþur mihte enduir. Þouȝ þe see were rouh or elles dimuir, Gode hauenes þat schip wolde gete. Nou is þat schip, I am wel suir, Selde iseye and sone forȝete. 40

Þis goode schip I may remene To þe chiualrye of þis londe; Sum tyme þei counted nouȝt a bene Beo al Fraunce, ich vnderstonde. Þei tok and slouȝ hem with heore honde, 45 Þe power of Fraunce, boþ smal and grete, And brouȝt þe king hider to byde her bonde: And nou riht sone hit is forȝete.

Þat schip hadde a ful siker mast, And a sayl strong and large, 50 Þat made þe gode schip neuer agast To vndertake a þing of charge; And to þat schip þer longed a barge Of al Fraunce ȝaf nouȝt a clete; To vs hit was a siker targe, 55 And now riht clene hit is forȝete.

Þe roþur was nouþer ok ne elm,— Hit was Edward þe Þridde, þe noble kniht. Þe Prince his sone bar vp his helm, Þat neuer scoumfited was in fiht. 60 The Kyng him rod and rouwed ariht; Þe Prince dredde nouþur stok nor strete. Nou of hem we lete ful liht: Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.

Þe swifte barge was Duk Henri, 65 Þat noble kniht and wel assayed, And in his leggaunce worþili He abod mony a bitter brayd. Ȝif þat his enemys ouȝt outrayed, To chastis hem wolde he not lete. 70 Nou is þat lord ful lowe ileyd: Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.

Þis gode Comunes, bi þe rode! I likne hem to the schipes mast, Þat with heore catel and heore goode 75 Mayntened þe werre boþ furst and last, Þe wynd þat bleuȝ þe schip wiþ blast Hit was gode preȝers, I sei hit atrete. Nou is deuoutnes out icast, And mony gode dedes ben clen forȝete. 80

Þus ben þis lordes ileid ful lowe: Þe stok is of þe same rote; An ympe biginnes for to growe And ȝit I hope schal ben vr bote, To holde his fomen vnder fote, 85 And as a lord be set in sete. Crist leue þat he so mote, Þat selden iseȝe be not forȝete!

Weor þat impe fully growe, Þat he had sarri sap and piþ, 90 I hope he schulde be kud and knowe For conquerour of moni a kiþ. He is ful lyflich in lyme and liþ In armes to trauayle and to swete. Crist leeue we so fare him wiþ 95 Þat selden seȝe be neuer forȝete!

And þerfore holliche I ou rede, Til þat þis ympe beo fully growe, Þat vch a mon vp wiþ þe hede And mayntene him, boþe heiȝe and lowe. 100 Þe Frensche men cunne boþe boste and blowe, And wiþ heore scornes vs toþrete, And we beoþ boþe vnkuynde and slowe, Þat selden seȝe is sone forȝete.

And þerfore, gode sires, takeþ reward 105 Of ȝor douhti kyng þat dyȝede in age, And to his sone, Prince Edward, Þat welle was of alle corage. Suche two lordes of heiȝ parage I not in eorþe whon we schal gete; 110 And nou heore los biginneþ to swage, Þat selde iseȝe is sone forȝete.

[Foot-note: 42 chilualrye _MS._]

[Foot-note: 110 I] In _MS._]

D. JOHN BALL'S LETTER TO THE PEASANTS OF ESSEX, 1381.

St. Albans MS. British Museum Royal 13. E. ix (about 1400), f. 287 a.

Iohon Schep, som tyme Seynte Marie prest of Ȝork, and now of Colchestre, greteth wel Iohan Nameles, and Iohan þe Mullere, and Iohon Cartere, and biddeþ hem þat þei bee war of gyle in borugh, and stondeth togidre in Godes name, and biddeþ Peres Plouȝman go to his werk, and chastise {5} wel Hobbe þe Robbere, and takeþ wiþ ȝow Iohan Trewman, and alle hiis felawes, and no mo, and loke schappe ȝou to on heued, and no mo.

Iohan þe Mullere haþ ygrounde smal, smal, smal; Þe Kynges sone of heuene schal paye for al. 10 Be war or _y_e be wo; Knoweþ ȝour freend fro ȝour foo; Haueth ynow, and seith 'Hoo'; And do wel and bettre, and fleth synne, And sekeþ pees, and hold ȝou þerinne; 15

and so biddeþ Iohan Trewman and alle his felawes.

[Foot-note: 4 togidre] togidedre _MS._]

[Foot-note: 11 ye] þe _MS._]

E. ON THE YEAR 1390-1.

St. John's College (Oxford) MS. 209, f. 57 a.

The ax was sharpe, the stokke was harde, In the xiiii yere of Kyng Richarde.

XV

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES IN VERSE

Under this head are grouped a number of short poems, representing forms of composition that survive only by fortunate chance.

A is a curious little song, which has been printed from Hale MS. 135 by G. E. Woodbine in _Modern Language Review_, vol. iv, p. 236, and reconstructed by Skeat at vol. v, p. 105, of the same periodical.

B and C are the best-known lyrics of the important collection edited by Böddeker, _Altenglische Dichtungen des MS. Harley 2253_, Berlin 1878. They are literary and rather artificial in form.

D and E are minstrels' songs found, among other popular snatches, on a fly-leaf of Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913, and edited by Heuser in _Anglia_, vol. xxx, p. 173. In E lines 14-16 and ll. 17-19 are to be expanded on the model of ll. 7-13.

All these songs are early, and have a lightness and gaiety that become rare as the fourteenth century advances.

F is one of several English scraps (ed. Furnivall in _Political, Religious, and Love Poems_, E.E.T.S., pp. 249 ff.) that are found scattered through the Latin text of MS. Harley 7322. Most of the English pieces are without poetical merit, but in this one poem the writer has attained a perfect simplicity.

G, printed in Wright and Halliwell's _Reliquiae Antiquae_, 1845, vol. i, p. 144, has been recognized as the first of the English ballads. It is the only example before 1400 of the swift and dramatic movement, the sudden transitions, and the restrained expression, characteristic of the ballad style.

H, first printed in _Reliquiae Antiquae_, vol. i, p. 240, is the latest of the short pieces. With onomatopoeic effects it gives a vivid if unfriendly picture of a blacksmith's forge on a busy night.

I is a charm edited by Furnivall at p. 43 of the E.E.T.S. volume in which F appears.

A. NOW SPRINGS THE SPRAY.

Lincoln's Inn MS. Hale 135 (about 1300).

_Nou sprinkes þe sprai, Al for loue icche am so seek Þat slepen I ne mai._

Als I me rode þis endre dai O mi playinge, 5 Seih I hwar a litel mai Bigan to singge: 'Þe clot him clingge! Wai es him i louue-longinge Sal libben ai!' 10 _Nou sprinkes, &c._

Son icche herde þat mirie note, _Þ_ider I drogh; I fonde hire in an herber swot Vnder a bogh, With ioie inogh. 15 Son I asked: 'Þou mirie mai, Hwi sinkestou ai?' _Nou sprinkes, &c._

Þan answerde þat maiden swote Midde wordes fewe: 'Mi lemman me haues bihot 20 Of louue trewe: He chaunges anewe. _Y_iif I mai, it shal him rewe Bi þis dai.' _Nou sprinkes, &c._

[Foot-note: 4 Þis endre dai als I me rode _MS.; corr. Skeat_.]

[Foot-note: 5 playinge] _indistinct_.]

[Foot-note: 8 clingge] clingges _MS._]

B. SPRING.

MS. Harley 2253 (about 1325), f. 71 b.

Lenten ys come wiþ loue to toune, Wiþ blosmen and wiþ briddes roune, Þat al þis blisse bryngeþ. Dayeseȝes in þis dales, Notes suete of nyhtegales, 5 Vch foul song singeþ. Þe þrestelcoc him þreteþ oo, Away is huere wynter wo, When woderoue springeþ. Þis foules singeþ ferly fele, 10 Ant wlyteþ on huere †wynter† wele, Þat al þe wode ryngeþ.

Þe rose rayleþ hire rode, Þe leues on þe lyhte wode Waxen al wiþ wille. 15 Þe mone mandeþ hire bleo, Þe lilie is lossom to seo, Þe fenyl and þe fille. Wowes þis wilde drakes; †Miles† murgeþ huere makes, 20 Ase strem þat strikeþ stille. Mody meneþ, so do_þ_ mo— Ichot ycham on of þo, For loue þat likes ille.

Þe mone mandeþ hire lyht; 25 So doþ þe semly sonne bryht, When briddes singeþ breme. Deawes donkeþ þe dounes; Deores wiþ huere derne rounes, Domes for te deme; 30 Wormes woweþ vnder cloude; Wymmen waxeþ wounder proude, So wel hit wol hem seme. Ȝef me shal wonte wille of on, Þis wunne weole y wole forgon, 35 Ant wyht in wode be fleme.

[Foot-note: 22 doþ] doh _MS._]

C. ALYSOUN.

MS. Harley 2253, f. 63 b.

Bytuene Mersh and Aueril, When spray biginneþ to springe, Þe lutel foul haþ hire wyl On hyre lud to synge. Ich libbe in loue-longinge 5 For semlokest of alle þynge; He may me blisse bringe— Icham in hire baundoun. _An hendy hap ichabbe yhent; Ichot from heuene it is me sent; 10 From alle wymmen mi loue is lent, And lyht on Alysoun._

On heu hire her is fayr ynoh, Hire browe broune, hire eȝe blake; Wiþ lossum chere he on me loh, 15 Wiþ middel smal and wel ymake. Bote he me wolle to hire take, For te buen hire owen make, Longe to lyuen ichulle forsake, And feye fallen adoun. 20 _An hendy hap, &c._

Nihtes when y wende and wake, Forþi myn wonges waxeþ won, Leuedi, al for þine sake Longinge is ylent me on. In world nis non so wyter mon 25 Þat al hire bounté telle con; Hire swyre is whittore þen þe swon, And feyrest may in toune. _An hend , &c._

Icham for wowyng al forwake, Wery so water in wore, 30 Lest eny reue me my make, Ychabbe yȝyrned ȝore. Betere is þolien whyle sore Þen mournen euermore. Geynest vnder gore, 35 Herkne to my roun. _An hendi ._ 40

D. THE IRISH DANCER.

Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913.

Icham of Irlaunde, Ant of the holy londe Of Irlande. Gode sire, pray ich _þ_e, For of saynte charité, 5 Come ant daunce wyt me In Irlaunde.

[Foot-note: 4 þe] ȝe _MS._]

E. THE MAID OF THE MOOR.

Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913.

Maiden in the mor lay, In the mor lay, Seuenyst fulle, seuenist fulle, Maiden in the mor lay, In the mor lay, 5 Seuenistes fulle ant a day.

Welle wa_s_ hire mete; Wat was hire mete? Þe primerole ant the,— Þe primerole ant the,— 10 Welle was hire mete; Wat was hire mete?— The primerole ant the violet.

Welle ; Wat was hire dryng? 15 Þe chelde water of <þe> welle-spring.

Welle was hire bour; Wat was hire bour? Þe rede rose an te lilie flour.

[Foot-note: 7 was] wat _MS._]

F. THE VIRGIN'S SONG.

British Museum MS. Harley 7322 (about 1375), f. 135 b.

Iesu, swete sone dere! On porful bed list þou here, And þat me greueþ sore; For þi cradel is ase a bere, Oxe and asse beþ þi fere: Weepe ich mai þarfore. Iesu, swete, beo noth wroþ, Þou ich nabbe clout ne cloþ Þe on for to folde, Þe on to folde ne to wrappe, 10 For ich nabbe clout ne lappe; Bote ley þou þi fet to my pappe, And wite þe from þe colde.

G. JUDAS.

Trinity College (Cambridge) MS. B. 14. 39 (about 1300), f. 34 a.

Hit wes upon a Scere Þorsday þat vre Louerd aros; Ful milde were þe wordes He spec to Iudas:

Iudas, þou most to Iurselem, oure mete for to bugge; Þritti platen of seluer þou bere upo þi rugge.

Þou comest fer i þe brode stret, fer i þe brode strete; 5 Summe of þine cunesmen þer þou meist imete.

Imette wid is soster, þe swikele wimon: 'Iudas, þou were wrþe me stende þe wid ston, (_bis_) For þe false prophete þat tou bileuest upon.'

'Be stille, leue soster, þin herte þe tobreke! 10 Wiste min Louerd Crist, ful wel He wolde be wreke.'

'Iudas, go þou on þe roc, heie upon þe ston, Lei þin heued i my barm, slep þou þe anon.'

Sone so Iudas of slepe was awake, Þritti platen of seluer from hym weren itake. 15

He drou hymselve bi þe top, þat al it lauede a blode; Þe Iewes out of Iurselem awenden he were wode.

Foret hym com þe riche Ieu þat heiste Pilatus: 'Wolte sulle þi Louerd, þat hette Iesus?'

'I nul sulle my Louerd for nones cunnes eiste, 20 Bote hit be for þe þritti platen þat He me bitaiste.'

'Wolte sulle þi Lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?' 'Nay, bote hit be for þe platen þat He habben wolde.'

In him com ur Lord gon, as is postles seten at mete: 'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete? (_bis_) 25 Ic am iboust ant isold today for oure mete.'

Up stod him Iudas: 'Lord, am I þat? I nas neuer o þe stude þer me Þe euel spec.'

Up him stod Peter, ant spec wid al is miste: 'Þau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes, (_bis_) 30 Yet ic wolde, Louerd, for Þi loue fiste.'

'Stille þou be, Peter! Wel I þe icnowe; Þou wolt fursake me þrien ar þe coc him crowe.'

H. THE BLACKSMITHS.

British Museum MS. Arundel 292 (about 1425-50), f. 71 b.

Swarte smekyd smeþes smateryd wyth smoke Dryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes. Swech noys on nyghtes ne herd men neuer: What knauene cry and clateryng of knockes! Þe cammede kongons cryen after 'col, col!' 5 And blowen here bellewys, þat al here brayn brestes: 'Huf, puf!' seith þat on; 'haf, paf!' þat oþer. Þei spyttyn and spraulyn and spellyn many spelles; Þei gnauen and gnacchen, þei gronys togydere, And holdyn hem hote wyth here hard hamers. 10 Of a bole-hyde ben here barm-fellys; Here schankes ben schakeled for the fere flunderys; Heuy hamerys þei han, þat hard ben handled, Stark strokes þei stryken on a stelyd stokke: Lus, bus! las, das! rowtyn be rowe. 15 Swech dolful a dreme þe deuyl it todryue! Þe mayster longith a lityl, and lascheth a lesse, Twyneth hem tweyn, and towchith a treble: Tik, tak! hic, hac! tiket, taket! tyk, tak! Lus, bus! lus, das! swych lyf thei ledyn 20 Alle cloþemerys: Cryst hem gyue sorwe! May no man for brenwaterys on nyght han hys rest!

I. RATS AWAY.

Bodleian MS. Rawlinson C. 288, f. 113 (15th-century writing, blurred).

I comawnde alle þe ratones þat are here abowte, Þat non dwelle in þis place, withinne ne withowte, Thorgh þe vertu of Iesu Crist, þat Mary bare abowte, Þat alle creatures owyn for to lowte, And thorgh þe vertu of Mark, Mathew, Luke, an Ion,— 5 Alle foure Awangelys corden into on,— Thorgh þe vertu of Sent Geretrude, þat mayde clene, God graunte þat grace Þat raton dwelle in þe place Þat here namis were nemeled in; 10 And thorgh þe vertu of Sent Kasi, Þat holy man, þat prayed to God Almyty For skathes þat þei deden Hys medyn Be dayes and be nyȝt, 15 God bad hem flen and gon out of euery manesse syȝt. _Dominus Deus Sabaot!_ Emanuel, þe gret Godes name! I betweche þes place from ratones and from alle oþer schame. God saue þis place fro alle oþer wykked wytes, Boþe be dayes and be nytes! _et in nomine Patris et Filii_, 20 &c.

[Foot-note: 13 skathes] t _altered from_ f (?) _MS._]

XVI

THE YORK PLAY 'HARROWING OF HELL'

British Museum MS. Addit. 35290 (about 1430-40), f. 193 b.

The miracle play _Harrowing of Hell_ is assigned to the craft of Saddlers in the York cycle, edited by Miss L. Toulmin-Smith, Oxford 1885, pp. 372 ff. This is the text reproduced below. It is also found, though in a less perfect form, among the _Towneley Plays_, ed. England and Pollard, E.E.T.S., 1897, pp. 293 ff.

All the mediaeval stories of Christ's Descent into Hell are based on the gospel of Nicodemus, which seems to date from the fourth century, though the legend is referred to nearly two centuries earlier. This apocryphal narrative was popular throughout the Middle Ages. There is a prose translation in late Anglo-Saxon, and a Middle English verse rendering supplies some of the phrases in the play.

Two points deserve notice for their bearing on the development of miracles. A trace of their origin in the services of the Church is seen in the use made of the Scriptural passage 'Attollite portas, principes, vestras, et elevamini portae aeternales, et introibit rex gloriae', the dramatic possibilities of which were recognized in ritual from an early date. And the growing taste for comic scenes is met, without prejudice to the serious characters, by the rudimentary buffoonery of the Devil and his companions.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

ADAME EUA ISAIAH SYMEON IESUS IOHANNES BAPTISTA MOYSES BELSABUB SATTAN DAUID BELLIALL MICHILL (Archangel) PRIMUS DIABOLUS SECUNDUS DIABOLUS

[SCENE I, _outside the gates of Hell_.]