Part 20

_Ismal, ecce, Bedel, non mel, sed fel, sibi des el![666]_ _Perfidus Achitophel, luridus atque lorell;_ _Nunc olet iste Jebal,[667] Nabal. S. Nabal, ecce, ribaldus!_ _Omnibus exosus atque perosus erat;_ _In plateaque cadens animam spiravit oleto:_ _Presbyteros odiens sic sine mente ruit._ _Discite vos omnes quid sit violare sacratos_ _Presbyteros, quia sic corruit iste canis._ _Cocytus cui si detur[668] per Tartara totus,_ _Sit, peto, promotus Cerberus huncque voret._ 10 _At mage sancta tamen mea Musa precabitur[669] atros_ _Hos lemuresque eat sic Bedel ad superos;_ _Non eat, immo ruat, non scandat, sed mage tendat,_ _Inque caput præceps mox Acheronta petat._

_Bedel. Quanta malignatus est inimicus in sancto!_[670]

Psa. 73.

[666] _des el_] The Rev. J. Mitford proposes “dorell.”

[667] _Jebal_] Qy. “Jabel?” but I do not understand the line.

[668] _si detur_] So the Rev. J. Mitford reads. Ed. “sic petus.”

[669] _precabitur_] Ed. “precabiturum.”

[670] _sancto_] Ed. “sāctā.”

_Mortuus est asinus,_ _Qui pinxit mulum:[671]_ _Hic jacet barbarus_; The deuill kys his _culum_! _Amen._

_Hanc volo transcribas, transcriptam moxque remittas Pagellam; quia sunt qui mea scripta sciunt._

[671] _pinxit mulum_] Corrected by the Rev. J. Mitford. Ed. “vixit multum.” The progress of the error was evidently—pinxit, _vinxit_, _vixit_. See notes.

_Redde_ { _Igitur quia sunt qui mala cuncta fremunt,[672]_ { _Igitur quia sunt qui bona cuncta premunt._ _Nec tamen expaveo de fatuo labio,_ _Nec multum paveo de stolido[673] rabulo._

[672] _fremunt ... premunt_] So Editor of 1736. Ed. “frenuitur,” “prenuitur.”

[673] _stolido_] Ed. “scolido.”

_Salve plus[674] decies quam[675] sunt momenta dierum!_ _Quot generum species,[676] quot res, quot nomina rerum,_ _Quot prati[677] flores, quot sunt et[678] in orbe colores,_ _Quot pisces, quot aves, quot sunt et[679] in æquore naves,_ _Quot volucrum pennæ, quot sunt tormenta gehennæ,_ _Quot cœli stellæ, quot sunt et[680] in orbe puellæ,_ _Quot sancti Romæ, quot sunt miracula Thomæ,_ _Quot sunt virtutes, tantas tibi[681] mitto salutes._

[674] _Salve plus, &c._] From Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568, (where it is printed on the reverse of the title-page), collated with a copy in Additional MSS. Brit. Mus. (4787, fol. 224), which is headed “Ex Jo. Skeltono Poeta Laureato.”

[675] _quam_] So MS. In Marshe’s ed. a contraction, which the Editor of 1736 resolved into “quot.”

[676] _generum species_] MS. “_species generum_.”

[677] _prati_] MS. “pratis.”

[678] _et_] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[679] _et_] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[680] _et_] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[681] _tantas tibi_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “tot vobis;” but compare v. 1. “_Salve_,” &c.

ORATOR[682] REGIUS SKELTONIS[683] LAUREATUS IN SINGULARE MERITISSIMUMQUE PRÆCONIUM NOBILISSIMI PRINCIPIS HENRICI SEPTIMI, NUPER STRENUISSIMI REGIS ANGLIÆ, HOC EPITAPHIUM EDIDIT, AD SINCERAM CONTEMPLATIONEM REVERENDI IN CHRISTO PATRIS AC DOMINI, DOMINI JOHANNIS ISLIPPÆ[684] ABBATIS WESTMONASTERIENSIS[685] OPTIME MERITI, ANNO DOMINI MDXII. PRIDIE DIVI[686] ANDREÆ APOSTOLI, &c.

_Tristia Melpomenes cogor modo plectra sonare;_ _Hos elegos foveat Cynthius ille meos._ _Si quas fata movent lacrymas, lacrymare videtur[687]_ _Jam bene maturum, si bene mente sapis._ _Flos Britonum, regum speculum, Salomonis imago,_ _Septimus Henricus mole sub hac tegitur._ _Punica, dum regnat, redolens rosa digna vocari,_ _Jam jam marcescit, ceu levis umbra fugit._ _Multa novercantis fortunæ, multa faventis_ _Passus, et infractus tempus utrumque tulit._ 10 _Nobilis Anchises, armis metuendus Atrides,_ _Hic erat; hunc Scottus rex timuit Jacobus._ _Spiramenta animæ vegetans dum vescitur aura,_ _Francorum populus conticuit pavidus._ _Immensas sibi divitias cumulasse quid horres?_ _Ni cumulasset opes, forte, Britanne,[688] luas._ _Urgentes casus tacita si mente volutes,_ _Vix tibi sufficeret aurea ripa Tagi._ _Ni sua te probitas consulta mente laborans_ _Rexisset satius, vix tibi tuta salus._ 20 _Sed quid plura cano? meditans quid plura voluto?_ _Quisque vigil sibi sit: mors sine lege rapit._ _Ad Dominum, qui cuncta regit, pro principe tanto_ _Funde preces quisquis carmina nostra legis._

_Vel mage,[689] si placeat, hunc[690] timuit Jacobus,_ _Scottorum dominus, qui sua fata luit;_ _Quem Leo Candidior Rubeum necat ense Leonem,_ _Et jacet usque modo non tumulatus humo._

_Refrigerii sedem, quietis beatitudinem, luminis habeat claritatem. Amen._

[682] _Orator, &c._] This and the next piece from Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568, collated with the poems as given in _Reges, Reginæ, Nobiles, et alii in Ecclesia Collegiata B. Petri Westmonasterii sepulti_, &c., 1603, 4to.

[683] _Skeltonis_] _Reges_, &c. “Skeltonus;” but see _ante_ and _post_.

[684] _Islippæ_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “Islip.”

[685] _Westmonasteriensis_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “Westmonastericii.”

[686] _divi_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “domini.”

[687] _videtur_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “videt.”

[688] _Britanne_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “Britainie.”

EULOGIUM PRO SUORUM TEMPORUM CONDITIONE, TANTIS PRINCIPIBUS NON INDIGNUM, PER SKELTONIDA LAUREATUM, ORATOREM REGIUM.

_Huc, pia Calliope, propera, mea casta puella,_ _Et mecum resona carmina plena deo._ _Septimus Henricus, Britonum memorabilis heros,_ _Anglica terra, tuus magnanimus Priamus,_ _Attalus hic opibus, rigidus Cato, clarus Acestes,_ _Sub gelido clausus marmore jam recubat.[691]_ _Sic[692] honor omnis, opes, probitas, sic gloria regum,_ _Omnia nutabunt[693] mortis ad imperium._ _Anglia, num lacrymas? rides; lacrymare quid obstas?_ _Dum vixit, lacrymas; dum moritur, jubilas._ 10 _Canta,[694] tamen penses, dum vixerat, Angligenenses_ _Vibrabant enses, bella nec ulla timent._ _Undique bella fremunt nunc, undique prœlia surgunt:_ _Noster honor solus, filius, ecce, suus!_ _Noster honor solus, qui pondera tanta subire_ _Non timet, intrepidus arma gerenda vocat;_ _Arma gerenda vocat, (superi sua cœpta secundent!)_ _Ut quatiat Pallas ægida sæpe rogat._ _Sors tamen est versanda diu, sors ultima belli:_ _Myrmidonum dominus Marte[695] silente ruit;_ 20 _Et quem non valuit validis superare sub armis_ _Mars, tamen occubuit insidiis Paridis._ _Nos incerta quidem pro certis ponere rebus_ _Arguit, et prohibet Delius ipse pater._ _Omnia sunt hominum dubio labentia fato,_ _Marte sub incerto militat omnis homo._ _Omne decus nostrum, nostra et spes unica tantum,_ _Jam bene qui regnat, hunc Jovis umbra tegat!_ _Ut quamvis mentem labor est inhibere volentem,_ _Pauca tamen liceat dicere pace sua:_ 30 _Pace tua liceat mihi nunc tibi dicere pauca,_ _Dulce meum decus, et sola Britanna salus._ _Summa rei nostræ remanet, celeberrime princeps,_ _In te præcipuo, qui modo sceptra geris._ _Si tibi fata favent, faveant[696] precor atque precabor,_ _Anglia, tunc plaude; sin minus, ipsa[697] vale._

_Polychronitudo basileos._

[689] _Vel mage ... humo_] Not in _Reges_, &c. These lines (containing an allusion to the battle of Flodden) are of a later date than the preceding poem, to the 12th verse of which they are intended as a sort of note. This is not the only passage in our author’s Latin pieces where two pentameters occur without an intervening hexameter: see conclusion of _The Garlande of Laurell_.

[690] _hunc_] Ed. “hunc _hunc_.”

[691] _recubat_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “recubit.”

[692] _Sic_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “Hic.”

[693] _nutabunt_] _Reges_, &c. “mutabunt.”

[694] _Canta_] Marshe’s ed. “Cauta.” _Reges_, &c. “Tanta.”

[695] _Marte_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “mater.”

[696] _faveant_] So _Reges_, &c. Not in Marshe’s ed.

[697] _ipsa_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “ipse.”

TETRASTICHON VERITATIS.

_Felix qui bustum formasti,[698] rex, tibi cuprum;_ _Auro si tectus fueras, fueras spoliatus,_ _Nudus, prostratus, tanta est rabiosa cupido_ _Undique nummorum: rex, pace precor requiescas. Amen._

[698] _formasti_] So _Reges_, &c. Marshe’s ed. “torniasti.”

SKELTON LAUREATE AGAINST THE SCOTTES.[699]

Agaynst the prowde Scottes clatterynge, That neuer wyll leaue theyr tratlynge: Wan they the felde, and lost theyr kynge? They may well say, fye on that wynnynge!

Lo, these fonde sottes And tratlynge Scottes, How thei are blynde In theyr owne mynde, And wyll not know Theyr ouerthrow 10 At Branxton[700] more! They are so stowre, So frantyke mad, They say they had And wan the felde With spere and shelde: That is as trew As blacke is blew And grene is gray. What euer they say, 20 Jemmy is ded And closed in led, That was theyr owne kynge: Fy on that wynnynge! At Floddon[701] hyllys Our bowys, our byllys, Slewe all the floure Of theyr honoure. Are not[702] these Scottys Folys and sottys, 30 Suche boste to make, To prate and crake, To face, to brace, All voyde of grace, So prowde of hart, So ouerthwart, So out of frame, So voyde of shame, As it is enrolde, Wrytten and tolde 40 Within this quayre? Who lyst to[703] repayre, And therin reed, Shall fynde indeed A mad rekenynge, Consyderynge al thynge, That the Scottis may synge[704] Fy on the wynnynge!

_When the Scotte lyued._

Joly Jemmy, ye scorneful Scot, Is it come vnto your lot 50 A solempne sumner for to be? It greyth nought for your degre Our kynge of Englande for to syght,[705] Your souerayne lord, our prynce of might: Ye for to sende such a citacion, It shameth all your noughty nacion, In comparyson but kynge Koppynge Vnto our prince, annoynted kynge. Ye play Hob Lobbyn of Lowdean; Ye shew ryght well what good ye can; 60 Ye may be lorde of Locrian,— Chryst sence[706] you with a frying pan!— Of Edingborrow and Saint Ionis towne: Adieu, syr sumner, cast of youre crowne!

_When the Scot was slayne._

Continually I shall remember The mery moneth of September, With the ix[707] daye of the same, For then began our myrth and game; So that now I haue deuysed, And in my minde I haue comprysed, 70 Of the prowde Scot, kynge Jemmy, To wryte some lyttle tragedy, For no maner consyderacion Of any sorowful lamentacion, But for the special consolacion Of all our royall Englysh nacion. Melpomone,[708] O Muse tragediall, Vnto your grace for grace now I call, To guyde my pen and my pen to enbybe! Illumyn me, your poete and your scrybe, 80 That with myxture of aloes and bytter gall I may compounde confectures for a cordiall, To angre the Scottes and Irysh keteringes withall, That late were discomfect with battayle marcyall. Thalia, my Muse, for you also call I, To touche them with tauntes of your armony, A medley to make of myrth with sadnes, The hartes of England to comfort with gladnes: And now to begyn I wyll me adres, To you rehersynge the somme of my proces. 90 Kynge Jamy, Jemmy, Jocky my jo,[709] Ye[710] summond our kynge,—why dyd ye so? To you nothing it dyd accorde To summon our kynge, your soueraygne lord. A kyng, a sumner![711] it was great wonder: Know ye not suger and salt asonder? Your sumner to saucy, to malapert, Your harrold in armes not yet halfe experte. Ye thought ye dyd yet valyauntly, Not worth thre skyppes of a pye: 100 Syr skyrgalyard, ye were so skyt, Your wyll than ran before your wyt. Your lege ye layd and your aly Your frantick fable not worth a fly, Frenche kynge, or one or other; Regarded ye[712] should your lord, your brother. Trowid ye, Syr Jemy, his nobul grace From you, Syr Scot, would turne his face? With, Gup, Syr Scot of Galawey! Now is your pryde fall to decay. 110 Male vryd was your fals entent For to offende your presydent, Your souerayne lord most reuerent, Your lord, your brother, and your regent. In him is fygured Melchisedec, And ye were disloyall Amalec. He is our noble Scipione,[713] Annoynted kynge; and ye were none, Thoughe ye vntruly your father haue slayne. His tytle is true in Fraunce to raygne; 120 And ye, proud Scot, Dunde, Dunbar, Pardy, ye were his homager, And suter to his parliament: For your vntruth now ar ye shent. Ye bare yourselfe somwhat to bold, Therfore ye lost your copyehold; Ye were bonde tenent to his estate; Lost is your game, ye are checkmate. Vnto the castell of Norram, I vnderstande, to sone ye came. 130 At Branxston more and Flodden hylles, Our Englysh bowes, our Englysh bylles, Agaynst you gaue so sharpe a shower, That of Scotland ye lost the flower. The Whyte Lyon, there rampaunt of moode, He ragyd and rent out your hart bloode; He the Whyte, and ye[714] the Red, The Whyte there slew the Red starke ded. Thus for your guerdon quyt ar ye, Thanked be God in Trinite, 140 And swete Sainct George, our ladies knyght! Your eye is out; adew, good nyght! Ye were starke mad to make a fray, His grace beyng out of the way: But, by the power and might of God, For your owne[715] tayle ye made a rod. Ye wanted wit, syr, at a worde; Ye lost your spurres, ye lost your sworde. Ye myght haue buskyd you to Huntley bankys; Your pryde was peuysh to play such prankys: 150 Your pouerte coude not attayne With our kynge royal war to mayntayne. Of the kyng of Nauerne ye might take heed, Vngraciously how he doth speed: In[716] double delynge so he did dreme, That he is kynge without a reme; And, for example ye[717] would none take, Experiens hath brought you in suche a brake. Your welth, your ioy, your sport, your play, Your bragynge bost, your royal aray, 160 Your beard so brym as bore at bay, Your Seuen Systers, that gun so gay, All haue ye lost and cast away. Thus fortune hath tourned you, I dare well saye, Now from a kynge to a clot of clay: Out of your[718] robes ye were shaked, And wretchedly ye lay starke naked.[719] For lacke of grace hard was your hap: The Popes curse[720] gaue you that clap. Of the out yles the roughe foted Scottes, 170 We haue well eased them of the bottes: The rude ranke Scottes, lyke dronken dranes, At Englysh bowes haue fetched theyr banes. It is not fytting[721] in tower and towne A sumner[722] to were a kynges crowne: Fortune on you therfore did frowne; Ye were to hye, ye are cast downe. Syr sumner, now where is your crowne? Cast of your crowne, cast vp your crowne! Syr sumner, now ye haue lost your crowne. 180

Quod Skelton laureate, oratoure to the Kynges most royall estate.

_Scotia,[723] redacta in formam provinciæ,_ _Regis parebit nutibus Angliæ:_ _Alioquin, per desertum Sin, super cherubim,_ _Cherubin, seraphim, seraphinque, ergo, &c._

[699] _Skelton Laureate against the Scottes_] The following pieces, called forth by the battle of Flodden, and the lines on the Battle of the Spurs annexed to them, are from the ed. of Kynge and Marche of _Certaine bokes compyled by mayster Skelton_, n. d., collated with the same work, ed. Day, n. d., ed. Lant, n. d., and with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568.

[700] _Branxton_] Day’s ed. “Branxion.”

[701] _Floddon_] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “Folddon.”

[702] _not_] Lant’s ed. “nat.”

[703] _to_] Not in Lant’s ed.

[704] _synge_] Marshe’s ed. “sin.”

[705] _syght_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “fight.”

[706] _sence_] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “fence.”

[707] _ix_] Eds. “xi.”

[708] _Melpomone_] Other eds. “Melnomone.”

[709] _jo_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “ioye.”

[710] _Ye_] So Lant’s ed. Not in other eds.

[711] _sumner_] Here and in next line but one, Marshe’s ed. “summer.”

[712] _ye_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “you.”

[713] _Scipione_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “Scripione.”

[714] _ye_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “you.”

[715] _owne_] Not in eds. of Day, and Marshe.

[716] _In_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “An.”

[717] _ye_] Eds. “he.”

[718] _your_] So Lant’s ed. Not in other eds.

[719] _starke naked_] So Lant’s ed. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Day, “_starke_ your _naked_.” Marshe’s ed. “_starke_ all _naked_.”

[720] _curse_] Eds. “cures.”

[721] _fytting_] Other eds. “sytting” and “sitting,” which, perhaps, Skelton wrote, as he elsewhere uses the word.

[722] _sumner_] Marshe’s ed. “summer,” here, and in the concluding line.

[723] _Scotia_] Eds. “Scotica.”

VNTO DIUERS PEOPLE THAT REMORD THIS[724] RYMYNGE AGAYNST THE SCOT JEMMY.

I am now constrayned, With wordes nothynge fayned, This inuectiue to make, For some peoples[725] sake That lyst for to iangyll And waywardly to wrangyll Agaynst this my makynge, Their males therat shakynge, At it reprehending, And venemously stingynge, 10 Rebukynge and remordyng, And nothing according. Cause haue they[726] none other, But for that he was brother,[727] Brother vnnatural Vnto our kynge royall, Against whom he dyd fighte[728] Falsly agaynst all ryght, Lyke that vntrue rebell Fals Kayn agaynst Abell. 20 Who so[729] therat pyketh mood, The tokens are not good To be true Englysh blood; For, yf they vnderstood His traytourly dispyght, He was a recrayed knyght, A subtyll sysmatyke, Ryght nere an heretyke, Of grace out of the state, And died excomunycate. 30 And for he was a kynge, The more shamefull rekenynge Of hym should men report, In ernest and in sport. He skantly loueth our kynge, That grudgeth at this thing: That cast such ouerthwartes Percase haue hollow hartes.

_Si veritatem dico, quare non creditis mihi?_

[724] _this_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Lant, “his.”

[725] _peoples_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “people.”

[726] _haue they_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “_they haue_.”

[727] _brother_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “hys _brother_.”

[728] _fighte_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “syght.”

[729] _Who so_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “But _who so_.”

CHORUS DE DIS[730] CONTRA SCOTTOS[731] CUM OMNI PROCESSIONALI FESTIVITATE SOLEMNISAVIT HOC EPITOMA XXII DIE SEPTEMBRIS, &c.

_Salve, festa dies, toto resonabilis ævo,_ _Qua Scottus Jacobus, obrutus ense, cadit._ _Barbara Scottorum, gens, perfida, plena malorum,_ _Vincitur ad Norram, vertitur inque fugam._ _Vasta palus, sed campestris, (borie memoratur_ Branxton more), _Scottis terra perosa fuit._ _Scottica castra fremunt Floddun sub montibus altis,_ _Quæ valide invadens dissipat Angla manus._ _Millia Scottorum trusit gens Anglica passim;_ _Luxuriat tepido sanguine pinguis humus:_ 10 _Pars animas miseri miseras misere sub umbras,_ _Pars ruit in foveas, pars subiit latebras._ _Jam quid agit Jacobus, damnorum germine[732] cretus?_ _Perfidus ut Nemroth, lapsus ad ima[733] ruit._ _Dic modo, Scottorum dudum male sane malorum_ _Rector, nunc regeris, mortuus, ecce, jaces!_ _Sic Leo te rapidus, Leo Candidus, inclytus ursit,_ _Quo Leo tu[734] Rubeus ultima fata luis._ _Anglia, due choreas; resonent tua tympana, psallas;[735]_ _Da laudes Domino, da pin vota Deo._ 20

_Hæc laureatus Skeltonis, regius[736] orator._

[730] _Dis_] So eds. of Day, and Marshe. Other eds. “Dyd.”

[731] _Scottos_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “Scottes.”

[732] _germine_] Eds. “gremine.”

[733] _ima_] Eds. “iam.”

[734] _tu_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “in.”

[735] _tympana, psallas_] Qy. “tympana psalmis?”

[736] _regius_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “Regine.”

CHORUS DE DIS, &C. SUPER TRIUMPHALI VICTORIA CONTRA GALLOS, &C. CANTAVIT SOLEMNITER HOC ELOGIUM IN PROFESTO DIVI JOHANNIS AD DECOLLATIONEM.

_Salve, festa dies, toto memorabilis ævo,_ _Qua rex Henricus Gallica bella premit._ _Henricus rutilans Octavus noster in armis_ _Tirwinnæ gentis mœnia[737] stravit humi._ _Sceptriger Anglorum bello validissimus Hector,_ _Francorum gentis colla superba terit._ _Dux armis nuper celebris, modo dux inermis,_ _De Longville modo dic quo tua pompa ruit?_ _De Clermount clarus dudum dic, Galle superbe,_ _Unde superbus eris? carcere nonne gemis?_ 10 _Discite Francorum gens cætera capta, Britannum_ _Noscite magnanimum, subdite vosque sibi._ _Gloria Cappadocis, divæ milesque Mariæ,_ _Illius hic sub ope Gallica regna reget._ _Hoc insigne bonum, divino numine gestum,_ _Anglica gens referat semper, ovansque canat._

_Per Skeltonida laureatum, oratorem regium._

[737] _mœnia_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “menit.”

VILITISSIMUS[738] SCOTUS DUNDAS ALLEGAT CAUDAS CONTRA ANGLIGENAS.

_Caudatos Anglos, spurcissime Scote, quid effers?_ _Effrons es, quoque sons, mendax, tua spurcaque[739] bucca est._

_Anglicus a tergo_ _caudam gerit;_ _est canis ergo._ _Anglice caudate,_ _cape caudam_ _ne cadat a te._ _Ex causa caudæ_ _manet Anglica_ _gens sine laude._

_Diffamas patriam, qua non_ _est melior usquam._ _Cum cauda plaudis dum_ _possis, ad ostia pultas[740]_ _Mendicans; mendicus eris,_ _mendaxque bilinguis,_ _Scabidus, horribilis, quem_ _vermes sexque pedales_ _Corrodunt misere; miseris[741]_ _genus est maledictum._

Skelton, _nobilis poeta_.