Lines 519–1036

That other he yef ythe stude,
To thilke that his werkes dude;
The thridde part he yef thenne
To uncothe povre menne ;
Sethe he delede feire ant wel
On foure that other halvedel
That on partie he sende by sonde
To thilke that were povre in londe ;
That other to povre religiouns ;
The thridde to povre cleregouns ;
That other partie thenne yef he
To poure chirgen byyende the se :
Thus livede the gode Alured
Ever forte he were ded.
After the gode Alured kyng,
Reignede Edward ys sone yyng,
He was bothe war ant wys,
In uch bataille he hade the prys.
Tharefore tho folke of Denemarche,
That beth bothe stor and starke,
Of him were adred so sore,
That in ys time never more
Ne dorsten he comen in ys londe,
Leste hem tidde schome ant schonde,
Thilke Edward hade in is lyves
Fourteen children by thre wyves,
Nine dehtren ant five sones,
That were suythe feyre gomes ;
Of ys dehtren thre wymmen
To religioun yolden hem,
Alfled hatte that on levedy,
He wes abesse at Romeysy.
Ediht hatte that other may,
He wes abesse at Wiltoun abbai.
The thridde hatte Aubourh,
An holi wommon thourh ant thourh.
Edward hede a soster fre,
No feirore levedy myhte be,
Ne wisore of sele thyng,
He huelp hire brother Edward kyng,
With hire wyt and hire rede,
His lond wel for to lede,
Longe er the kyng were ded,
He wes yeve to the erl Aylred,
That wes a god holy mon,
Ant on ys wif a child he won
The levedy pinede so sore,
Er that child were ybore,
That in hire pine he wes so wroht,
That he suor, ant made hire oht,
Bi the vertu of Marie sone,
Nevermore he nolde come
By hire lyne nyht ne day,
In the bed ther hire lord lay,
Edward reignede her
Four ant tuenti yer
At Wynchestre liggeth ys bon,
Buried in a marbre ston.
After him reigned Athelston,
God knyht, ant hardi mon,
Bothe by day, ant by nyht,
Wel he hueld his lond to ryht,
Gui of Warewyk livede tho,
Ant gode knyhtes fele mo.
Alle the theynes of Walschelonde
He made bowe to ys honde,
Ant leyde such truage on hem,
Ant on heore Walsche men,
That thre hondred pond of sterlyng
Heo yeven Athelston the kyng,
Ant eke tuenti pound of golde
Scotlond hym yeve scholde,
Yet Wales yeld more hym
Fif thousent fatte cun
To the kyng uche yer,
Er he mosten be quite ant sker.
Thilke kyng Athelston
Heve a soster, so feir wommon
That in this world me nuste non
So feir levedy of fleysch ant bon
Hylde hatte that maide fro,
That hath so muche of beaute.
Hughe that kyng in Fraunce wes
This maide to queue ches,
For heo wes so feir ant hende,
After hire he con sende
The eorl Edulf of Boloyne,
The erles fone Baldwyn of Coloyne,
He wes the kynges messager
In his neodes fer ant ner.
Tho he was to londe ycome
He fond the kyng at Abyndonn,
Tho he the kyng ymette
Wel feire he hyne grette,
A noble present he him brohte,
Ant of ys suster him bysohte
To ys lord syr Hugh the kyng,
That wes in Fraunce wonyng ;
Ant from him verreiment
He brohte a riche present,
That wes preciouse and deore,
Wuch hit wes ye mowe here :
Thre hondred steden mylk-whyte,
In the world nys heore ylyche,
The bridles were for the nones
Bygo with preciouse stones ;
Yet he presentede him also
Other thinges fele mo
Themperoures suerd Constantin,
The scaubert wes gold pure ant fin,
Therinne wes closed a nail gret
That ede thurh godes fet ;
Ant he presentede him the spere
That Charlemayne wes wonet to bere
To-fore the holy legioun,
That is of gret remissioun ;
Ant o partie of the holy rode,
That God schedde on ys blode,
Hit wes closed feir ant wel
In a cristal everuch del ;
Ant thre of the thornes kene
That were on godes hed sene ;
Ant one riche croune of golde,
No richore king were ne scholde,
Biset withinne ant withoute
With preciouse stones al aboute,
Richore croune nes never wroth
Sethe god made the world of noth.
Athelston of this sonde wes blythe,
Ant thonkede the king of Fraunce suythe,
His suster Hilde he him sende,
Mid gret honour with hire he wende.
Seve yer kyng Athelston
Hueld this ilke kynedom,
Engelond that ys so muri,
And deyede, ant lyth at Malmesbury.
After him his sone Edmond
Wes her kynd in Engelond,
Ah, ase seggeth somme other,
Edmond wes Athelstones brother.
Ah he ne reignede her
Bote unnethe syx yer.
Sethe byfel at one feste,
At Canterbury, a cas unwreste :
Ase the kyng at mete sect,
He bihueld, ant underycet,
Of a thef that wes degised
Among his knyhtes hende ant wyse ;
The king wes hastif ant starte up,
Ant hente the thef by the top,
Ant caste him doun to the ston ;
The thef braid out is knyf anon,
Ant to the heorte the kyng thruste,
Er eni of ys knihtes wyste
The lordinges starten up uchon,
And the thef slowen anon,
Ah rathere he woundede moni on,
Thourh the fleish to the bon :
To Glastingbury me ber the kyng,
Ant made ther ys buryyng.
After that Edmond wes ded,
Reygnede his sone Achelred,
A war mon ant a wys,
Ant a knyht of muche prys ;
He reignede nyghe yer,
Ant wes yburied at Westmuster.
Tho anon after hym
Reignede ys sone Edwyn
He wes king of gret prys.
Ah of is bodi he wes unwys ;
The firste dai that [he] croune nom
He birafte a god mon
Of ys wif for hire feirhede,
Of god he hade lutel drede.
Yet heo wes his cosine,
The sore he servede more pyne.
He reignede foure yer,
To Wynchestre me him ber.
After him reigned Edgar,
A wys kyng ant a war,
Bothe by day ant by nyth,
Wel he hueld ys lond to ryth.
Thilke nyth that he was ybore
Seint Dunstan wes glad therfore,
For he herde the stevene
Of the aungles of hevene,
In heore song segge by ryme,
Yblessed be that ilke time
That Edgar ybore wes,
For in ys time schal beo pees
Ever in his kynedom,
Whil he lyveth ant seint Dunstan
Ant so ther wes gret foisoun
Of alle gode in ucha toun,
For rith wisore kyng then he was
Never yete ybore nas ;
For alle the whyle that laste is lyf
Lovede he nouther werre ne stryf,
Ne mon ther nas non so heh
That mysdude, feore other neh,
In ys lond, day other nyht,
Ayeynes the laghe eni wyht,
That he schulde fonge mede
After the selve misdede :
Hou schulde he speren eni mon
Wen he of bestes wrache nom ?
At Londone he hueld a parlement,
Ware-thure Wales wes yschent,
For thider to him he made come
The theynes of Wales alle ant some,
Him trewe lord for to holde,
Ant to sueren him othes holde,
Ant bringen him truage ther
Thre houndred wolves uche yer,
Ant so hy dude treweliche
Thre yer plenerelyche,
The furthe ne mihten he finde none,
So clene he weren alle agone,
Ant tho the king hit hem foryef,
Ne dude hem no more gref.
Edgar wes an holy mon,
That oure lord him cuthe con,
Afterward, ase he wes wurthe,
That he hade leyen in urthe,
Sixti wynter under molde,
An abbot him remue wolde
Aylwart hihte thilke abbot :
Ase me wolde him nymen up,
Ant leggen in a throh of ston,
He founden him bothe fleys ant bon
Al so hoi, ant al so sound,
Ase he was leyd furst in ground ;
Hy nomen him up anon,
Ant wolden him leggen in the ston
That the abbot hevede ilet make
For the nones to his sake ;
Ah so schert he was ywroht,
Istraht ne myhte he ligge noht,
Hys legges hy corven of anon,
Faste by the kneo-bon,
Ah hy hit ne dude for non harm,
Ant the blode al so warm
Hem starte out opon,
Ase hit were a quic mon ;
The abbot that ther bystod,
Seh that miracle feir ant god,
Ant lette him in a tounbe don,
Bothe in fleys and in bon ;
Ase me him in tounbe dude,
A wodmon botnede y the stude,
Ant a blindmon hede sihte,
Ant mighte seon suithe bryhte ;
Ant a cripel eke anon
Ther him strahte ant myhte gon.
Edgar reignede her
Evene sixtene yer.
Tho he wes ded, afterward
Reygnede hys sone Edward ;
Ah he ne reignede her
Bote unnethe thre yer,
That Estryld his stepmoder,
Selde beth ther eny gode,
Him apoisonede that he was ded,
To maken hire sone Achelred
Her king in Engelonde,
Ant so he wes with schome ant schonde,
For never pes in is time nas,
Bote whil sein Dunstan alive was.
The king hede a stiward,
That was fel ant culvard,
He was cleped Edrich,
Nes no traitour his ylich,
He was suikel fals ant fel,
Ant thah the king him luvede wel,
Ant tolde him his consail,
Ant the traitour uchadel
Sende hit to Denemarke,
By messagers stor ant starke.
Haveloc com tho to this lond.
With gret host ant eke strong,
Ant sloh the kyng Achelred,
At Westmustre he was ded :
Ah he hevede reigned her
Sevene ant tuenti fulle yer.
Ant yet the Englische ofte ilome
Thourh bataile Deneis overcome,
Ant crouneden at Northamptoun
Edmound, Achelredes sone,
For is prouesse ant his streynthe,
He wes abrede ant o leinthe
Cleped yent this lond wide
Edmound Irneneside.
Yet, in the somer afterward,
Come the Deneise hideward,
Ant conne fihte with Edmound,
That was king in Engelond,
Ene heo him overcome,
Ant he hem eft-sone,
So that heo acordeden,
And this lond to-deleden
Riht evene atuo
Bituene the kynges tho,
Thourh consail of Edrich,
Nes never traitour him ylich.
Sethe deyede Edmound,
Thourh Edriches tresoun,
Ah he ne hevede yreined her
Nout bote tuo yer.
Tho hevede kyng Knout
Al this lond out and out ;
Tho come the traitours of this lond
That heden traised Edmond,
Ant slawen him to dede,
Thourh Edriches rede,
Ant were jolif ant proud,
Ant tolden hit to kyng Knout,
For heore foule tresoun
Hy wenden habbe warisoun ;
Ah Knout wes a god mon,
Ant made hem telle here suykedom
Ant for that tresoun that hy dude
Hy were to-drawen wythe stude ;
Ant so thourh god resoun
He yeld hem heore tresoun,
Sethe sone after thas
Ther bifel a wonder cas,
Ant a muche feorlych,
Bituene the kyng ant Edrich :
At Londone in a soler,
Anyht after soper,
Bituene Edrich ant the kyng
Aros a repreofing ;
Sire kyng, seide Edrich,
Who wende that thou wer sich ?
Understondest the noht
Hou dere ichabbe thi love aboth ?
Y lette bitraye thilke mon
That muche gode me dude on,
Al the mastrie of ys lond,
Al wes in myn hond,
Ant ich him lette sle with gyn,
To make the kyng after hym,
Ant thou servest thus me
To wrotherhele y lovede the.
The kyng wes ful sore agromed,
Ant of ys wordes suithe aschomed.
Sire Edrich, seide the kyng.
Thou ne gabbest nothing.
With gile ant wyth suykeydom,
Thou lettest thi lord to dethe don.
That the dude muche honour.
Ant thou were his traitour,
Ant after trecherie ant gile
Me schal yelde the thy whyle.
The king him lette bynde
His honden him byhynde.
Ant his fet also
Were bounde bo tuo,
Ant at a windou casten out
Right doun into Temese flod :
So endede he his day,
God ys soule jugge may!
King Knout in londe her
Reignede evene tuenti yer.
After thilke kyng Knout,
Reignede his sone Hardeknout ;
He wes kyng Knoutes sone,
Ant a suithe jolyf gome :
He reignede her
Evene ahte ant tuenti yer.
After reignede Edward,
Knoutes sone bastard,
He wes a god holy mon,
Ant lovede wel is cristendom.
He reignede her
Four an tuenti yer.
Ant six moneth also ;
At Westmunstre he deyede tho.
Sethe reignede a god gome,
Harald, Godwyne sone.
He wes cleped Harefot,
For he wes urnare god.
He ne reignede her
Bote nyghe moneth of a yer.

WILLAM BASTARD DE NORMAUNDIE.

Tho com with gret chevalerie
Willam bastard of Normaundie,
Ant Engelond al he won,
Ant hueld hit ase ys kynedom ;
King Harald he overcom,
Ant lette him to dethe don.
Kyng Harald, ful y wys,
At Waltham yburied ys ;
Ant thenne Willam bastard
Hueld al this lond to hys part.
Ant tho he made, fauntz fayle,
The abbeye of the bataille.
Willam bastard wes kyng her
On ant tuenti fulle yer,
Sethe he deyede at Ham,
In Normandie, at Caham.
After his endyng
Reignede Willam the rede kyng ;
He wes luther ant unwrest,
He made a newe forest,
Fifti moder chirchen ant mo
He lette falle, ant chapeles bo,
Ant clene casten adoun,
And made wode ther wes toun ;
That dude his soule lute note,
For sethe therinne he was yschote,
With an arewe kene ant smert,
That wes idrawe to an hert ;
Water Tyrel the arewe droh,
Ant the king thermide he sloh.
He reignede threttene yer,
To Wynchestre me him ber.
Sethe reignede an other,
Henry ys oune brother,
He reignede her
Evene five ant thritti yer.
Henry thilke kyng
Lyth yburied at Redyng,
Sethe wel evene
Reignede kyng Stevene ;
He reignede her
Evene tuenti yer ;
He wes a god holi man,
Ant wes buried at Faversham.
After him reigned Henry,
God mon ant hardy,
The erles sone of Chaunpaigne,
Ant a mon of muche mayne ;
His moder, ase ye habbeth herd her this,
Hyhte Mahaud the emperis.
He reignede her
Evene four ant thritti yer.
Thilke Henry the kyng
Dude a suithe wonder thing ;
Tho he hevede reigned her
Sixtene fulle yer
He made take Henry ys sone.
Ant croune him kyng at Londone,
Ant tho in Englond kynges were
Tuey Henryes that crounen bere,
Ant whil the sone alive wes
Bituene her wes lute pes ;
Ah the sone ycrouned her
Livede threttene yer.
After Henry the sones dethe,
Henry the fader livede unneth,
Vyf yer in Engelond,
Ant hueld this lond in ys hond ;
Ant thah the sone croune bere
The fader hueld is date here,
Ant al Engelond y hoi,
Al to is oune dol.
The erchebischop, seint Thomas,
In heore time martired was.
Tho deyede the fader Henry her,
That reignede thritti-four yer.
Tho anon afterward
Reignede ys sone Richard ;
Richard queor de lyoun,
That was his sournoun ;
Ah he ne reignede her
Bote unnethe ten yer.
Sethe he was yschote, alas
At Castel-Gailard ther he was ;
At Fount-Evererd liggeth his bon.
Sethe reignede kyng Jon,
In is time al Engelonde
Wes entredited with wronge,
Thourh an erchebischop,
That wes wis mon ant nout sot.
He hihte Stevene of Longedon,
The kyng him nolde underson.
He reigned seventene yer ;
To Wyrcestre me him ber.
After him reignede Henry,
A god kyng ant holy ;
In his time wes werre strong,
Ant gret stryf in Engelond ;
Bituene the barouns ant the kyng,
Wes gret stryvyng
For the preveance of Oxneford,
That sire Simound de Mountfort
Meintenede : ant gode lawes
Therfore he les his lyf-dawes.
He reignede her
Fifti-six folle yer,
Ant tuenti dawes therto ;
At Westmunstre he wes leid tho,
Sethe reignede a god gome,
Edward his oune sone,
He was icleped conquerour ;
God yeve his soul muchel honour!
In werre com he never, y wys
That he ne hade the meste prys :
He reignede her
Thritti-five fulle yer,
Ahte moneth, ant dawes thre,
In Engelond king wes he.
Tho anon afterward
Reignede his sone Edward ;
Thilke Edward, fauntz-fayle,
Yef the erldome of Cornwayle
To sire Pieres of Gavaston,
That for envie wes ynome.
The lordinges of Engelonde
To him heveden gret onde,
For he wes wel with the kyng,
Heo heveden him in henyng,
Ant seiden he wes traitour
To the king ant to heore honour,
Ant for he wes loverdsuyke,
Heo ladden him to Warewyke,
At Gaveressich, ye mowe wyte,
Ther his heved wes of smyte.