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Must be the speech that men most need.
Seldom was by any chance
Praised the English tongue in France;
Do we the same to their language
Methinks we do them no outrage.
For unlearned Englishman I spell,
That understandeth what I tell,
And specially I those address
That all their lives in idleness
On trifles waste and beggars' lies,
To them I say: "Take care, be wise,
And well unto my words attend,
And all your way with might amend."
Ill have they who in spending spend,
And find no fruit thereof at end. . .

Now from this prologue we will blinne,"
And in Christ's name our book begin:
Cursor o' World men ought it call,
For almost it o'er runs it all.
Take we our beginning than3
From Him who all the world began.

Richard Rolle of Hampole

died 1349

THE INFANT

(From The Pricke of Conscience,1 c. 1340)

[When man] was born to this world's light,
He had not either strength or might,
Either to walk or yet to stand,
Nor to creep with foot and hand.

Then has the man less might than beast;
When he is born, he seems the least;
For a beast, when it is born, may go
And run soon after to and fro;
But a man has no might thereto,
When he is born, such things to do;
For then he may not stand nor creep,
But only sprawl and cry and weep.
For a child is scarcely born before
It has begun to cry and roar;
And by that cry men tell trulý
Whether it man or woman be.
When it is born it cries such way:
For if it be man it says "a, a,"

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There is, free from all darkness, light; There is aye day and never night; There aye is summer bright to see;

And never more winter in that countrie;

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And there an endless home made sure;

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There too are all delights and ease,

And sure tranquility and peace;

There peaceful joy forever is,

And pleasure there and lasting bliss.

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There's melody and angel's song,

And love and praise from that bright throng: There is all friendship that may be;

And perfect love and charitie;

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There is accord, and its due mede Is given aye to each good deed; There's lowly awe and reverence, And meekness and obedience; There are all virtues and no sin, All dainties and delights therein, All wisdom's there from folly free, And honour without villany.

There is brightness and beautie
In everything that men shall see;
There joys are free and general,
But the most sovereign joy of all
Is the blest sight of God's bright face,
Beyond all joys and all solace,

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Lawrence Minot

c. 1300-1352

THE BATTLE OF HALIDON HILL1 Listen, Lordings, if you will

Hear of the battle of Halidon Hill.

True King that sitteth on thy throne, Unto thee I tell my tale,

And unto thee I bid a boon,

For thou art balm of all my bale.

As thou hast made the earth and moon,

And beasts and foulės great and smale,
Unto me send thy succour soon
Direct my deedės in this dale.

In this dale I droup2 and dare
For evil deeds that cost me dear,
For England had my heart great care,
When Edward went at first to were.3
The men of France were bold to fare
Against him with the shield and spere;
They turned again with sidės sair
And all their pomp not worth a pere.1

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They said it should full dear be bought, The land whence they were driven out. Philip Valois wordes wrought,

And said he should their foeman stay;
But all these words they went for naught,
Words must be meet or weak are they.

More menaces they boasting cry,
In spite of might they have their meed;
And many a night awake they lie
To harm all England by their deed;
But low is now that pride so high
Of those that were so stout on steed;
And some of them all naked lie
Not far from Berwick upon Tweed.

A little from that selfsame town,
Halidon Hill that is the name,
There was cracked many a crown
Of the wild Scot and eke of tame.

Then was their banner borne all down,
To make such boasts they were to blame;
But nathėless aye are they boune

To hurt England with sorrow and shame.

Shame they have as I here say;

At Dundee now is done their dance, And wend they must another way Even through Flanders into France. On Philip Valois 10 fast cry they, There for to dwell and him advance. And nothing list they now to play Since them befell this sorry chance.

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This sorry chance hath them o'erthrown,
For they were false and wondrous fell;
For cursed caitiffs are they known
And full of treason, sooth to tell.

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Sir John Comyn11 had they struck down,
In holy kirk they did him quell;12
So many a Scottish bride makes moan
With dolour dight13 there must they dwell.

There dwelled our king, the sooth to sayn,
With his menie14 a little while;

He gave good comfort on that plain
To all his men about a mile.

Although his men were mickle of main,15
Ever they doubted them of guile;
They Scottish gauds 16 might nowise gain
For all they stumbled at that stile.

They came not from that strife alive
That were before so proud in prese,17
Jésu, for thy woundės five,

In England help us to have peace.

Ready.

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10 Philip VI. King of France, 1328-1350, who in the interests of France, became the ally of Scotland against their common enemy England.

11 Comyn, surnamed The Red, one of the rivals of Bruce to the Throne of Scotland after Edward Balliol's renunciation. He was murdered on the altar steps of the Franciscan church at Dumfries by Bruce and his followers, in 1306.

12 Kill.

14 Company. 16 Trappings, booty.

13 Grief-stricken. 15 Great of might. 17 The post of danger.

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Full of all love and of goodness,

No man may tell of her fairness.

It befel in time of May,

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When is merry and pleasing the summer's day,
Away have gone the winter's showers,
And every field is full of flowers,
Of blossoms springing on the bough,
O'er all the land 'tis merry enow,-
That this same Queen, Dame Erodys,
Took with her maidens two of pris,
And walked in the undertide 5
To play within her orchard-side,
To see the flowers spread and spring,
And see and hear the sweet birds sing.
Then down they seated them all three,
Fairly beneath an ympė tree,

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Of all the things that men may see

Most fit to praise forsooth they be.

In Brittany these lays were wrought,

And full soon that fairest queen, Fell fast asleep upon the green, The maidens durst not her awake,

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There first were made, and thence were brought

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But round her they 'gan merry make,
And let her sleep till afternoon
When the undertide was gone;
And as soon as she gan wake

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Of aventures in days that were,

They took their harps with glee and game2

And made a lay and did it name.

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Of áventures that did befall

I can tell some but nowise all. Harken, lordlings, that be true, And I will tell of Sir Orphew.

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She cried, and loathsome 'gan her make,
Her hands and eke her feet she tore,
And scratched her till she bled full sore;
Her clothing rich she all to-rent,
All wild out of her wittės went.
The maidens two that sat beside,
They durst no longer there abide,
But straightway sought the castle hall
And told both knights and squires all,
How that their Queen away would go.
The knights went also, and ladies too,
And demoiselles fifty and many mo,7
To fetch her as they fain would do.
Into the orchard ran they out
And took her in their armis stout,
And brought her to her bed at last
And therein held her down full fast;
But still she cried in angry mood,
And rent herself as she were wode.
When heard the King this dread tiding,
He was never so woe for any thing.
The King came with his knightės keen
Into the chamber to his Queen,
And for her had he great pitie.
"Sweet heart," he said, "how may this be,
That thou who ever wert so still,
Shouldst now cry out so loud and shrill?
Thy body that was white beforn,
Now with thy nails is rent and torn.

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Now my Queen is left forlorn,
The best ladíe that e'er was born;
No more will I woman see,

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In wilderness now will I be,
And there abide in woodlands hoar
And in the wilds forevermore.
Then when ye know I have left all,
Ye straight a parliament shall call,
And ye shall chose you a new King,
And do your best in everything."
Great sorrow then was in the hall,
Weeping and crying 'mongst them all,
And there might neither old nor young
For weeping speak a word with tongue.
They kneeled all a-down i-fere, 15
And begged him if his will it were,
That he would never from them
go,

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'Away!" he said, "I will not so.' Then all his kindred he forsook And unto him a sclaveyn 16 took, He would have no other hood; Hose, nor shoe, nor other good;

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And after, back he brought me home,

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Only his harp he took, and straight

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Back into our own orchárd,

He journeyed barefoot through the gate.

And said to me this afterward:

No man there must with him go,

'Look tomorrow that thou be

Alas! there weeping was and woe.

Here beneath this ympė tree;

He that was King and bare the crown,

And if thou makest any let,

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Where'er thou be thou shalt be fet,12

Went out so poorly from the town, Into the wild he takes his road,

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And to tear thy limbės all,

Shall help thee naught whate'er befall, And although thou be all torn

13 Alas!

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15 Together.

Both through the heath and through the wood. Nothing he hath to give him ease,

14 Disgraced.

16 Hair-shirt.

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In summer on the haws he lives,

That midst her leaves the hawthorne gives;
In winter, by the root and rind,
For other thing he may not find.

He was all shrunken, shriveled, pale,
With beating rain, and cutting hail;
No man could tell the travail sore
He had endured ten years or more.
He that had castles, halls and towers,
Forests, rivers, fields, and flowers,
Nothing that likes him 18 now had he,
But savage beasts that from him flee.
His matted beard has shaggy grown,
Below his girdle has it gone.

He taketh harp and maketh glee, And lies all night beneath a tree.

When bright and clear there dawns the day,
He takes his harp and makes no stay,
Amidst the wood he sits him down
And tunes his harp with a merry soun,
And harps all after his own will;
Through all the wood it ringeth shrill.
The savage beasts that there are found,

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He searched her face and form alsó,
Right well he knew it was, I wis,
His own ladíe, Dame Erodys.
He saw her plain and she him eke,
Yet ne'er a word did either speak.
For him she did so poor espy

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That sometime was so rich and high,
The tears ran down her face, I wis,
And looking on her so did his,
And then away they made her ride,
For there no longer she might bide.
"Alas!" he said, "and woe is me!
Why will not death come suddenly!
Wretch that I am! O, that I might
Die now, when I have seen this sight!
Alas! too long lasteth my life,
Since I may speak not with my wife,
Nor she with me a word may speak!
Alas! why will my heart not break!
Parfay!" he said, "whate'er betide,
I will see where those ladies ride,
And in that way I too will go-
I care not for my life a sloe."

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For joy about him gather round,

And all the little birds that were,

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For joy they come about him there

His sclavyne put he on his back

To listen to that harping fine,

And took his harp right as he spak,

So mickle joy there was therein.

And swiftly after them is gone,

His harping when he laid aside,

Over stock and over stone.

Nor bird, nor beast would then abide,
But all together they are flown,
And leave him there to sit alone.

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Often saw he him beside,

Full three mile and some deal mo,21

In the heat of summer-tide,

He came unto a fair countráy,

The Fairy King with all his rout,

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It was as bright as any day.

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Come a-hunting all about.

Neither hill nor dale was seen,

With shout and merry din they go

And noise of hound and horn alsó;

And yet forsooth, no beast they slay,

Nor knows he where they take their way. 280 And other whiles he may espye,

A mighty hunt go passing by,

Full two hundred knights of pride

All was lawn full fair and green, Midst it a castle met his eye,

Noble and rich, and wondrous high, Over all the topmost wall

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Shone as doth the clear crystál,

And the towers that were there

Were gaily set with pearlės fair;

Armed through the forest ride.

The farthest, rising from the ditch,

Somewhile he saw other thing,

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Was all of gold and silver rich;

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Knights and ladies come ridíng

The front, that stood amidst them brade, 22

With raiment bright and courtly grace, Moving all with easy pace;

Was all of divers metals made;

Within, a wondrous dwelling wide,

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Tabors and pipes with them there be, And every kind of minstrelsy.

And ladies too there come riding,

Jolie they were in everything,
Gentle and gay they were I wis,
Nor no man there among them is.
Hawk on hand did each one bear,
And hawking went by the rivére,
Of game they found the favorite haunt,
Pheasant, hern, and cormorant.

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With gold and gems all glorified,

The pillars fair thereon, were dight

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With precious stones and sapphires bright. So fair the palace shone by night

That all the town was full of light,

Those riché stones so fairly shone

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