The Rowley Poems by Thomas Chatterton (inspirational books to read .txt) 📖

and byll-spear shine;         95

    Throwote the campe a wild confusionne spredde;

    Eche bracd hys armlace siker ne desygne,

    The crested helmet nodded on the hedde;

    Some caught a flughorne, and an onsett wounde;

  Kynge Harolde hearde the charge, and wondred at the sounde.             100

 

    Thus Leofwine; O women cas'd in stele!

    Was itte for thys Norwegia's stubborn sede

    Throughe the black armoure dyd the anlace fele,

    And rybbes of solid brasse were made to bleede?

    Whylst yet the worlde was wondrynge at the deede.                     105

    You souldiers, that shoulde stand with byll in hand,

    Get full of wine, devoid of any rede.

    Oh shame! oh dyre dishonoure to the lande!

    He sayde; and shame on everie visage spredde,

  Ne sawe the erlies face, but addawd hung their head.                    110

 

    Thus he; rowze yee, and forme the boddie tyghte.

    The Kentysh menne in fronte, for strenght renownd,

    Next the Brystowans dare the bloudie fyghte,

    And last the numerous crewe shall presse the grounde.

    I and my king be wyth the Kenters founde;                             115

    Bythric and Alfwold hedde the Brystowe bande;

    And Bertrams sonne, the man of glorious wounde,

    Lead in the rear the menged of the lande;

    And let the Londoners and Suffers plie

  Bie Herewardes memuine and the lighte skyrts anie.                      120

 

    He saide; and as a packe of hounds belent,

    When that the trackyng of the hare is gone,

    If one perchaunce shall hit upon the scent,

    With twa redubbled fhuir the alans run;

    So styrrd the valiante Saxons everych one;                            125

    Soone linked man to man the champyones stoode;

    To 'tone for their bewrate so soone 'twas done,

    And lyfted bylls enseem'd an yron woode;

    Here glorious Alfwold towr'd above the wites,

  And seem'd to brave the fuir of twa ten thousand fights.                130

 

    Thus Leofwine; today will Englandes dome

    Be fyxt for aie, for gode or evill state;

    This sunnes aunture be felt for years to come;

    Then bravelie fyghte, and live till deathe of date.

    Thinke of brave Ælfridus, yclept the grete,                           135

    From porte to porte the red-haird Dane he chasd,

    The Danes, with whomme not lyoncels coud mate,

    Who made of peopled reaulms a barren waste;

    Thinke how at once by you Norwegia bled

  Whilste dethe and victorie for magystrie bested.                        140

 

    Meanwhile did Gyrthe unto Kynge Harolde ride,

    And tolde howe he dyd with Duke Willyam fare.

    Brave Harolde lookd askaunte, and thus replyd;

    And can thie say be bowght wyth drunken cheer?

    Gyrthe waxen hotte; fhuir in his eyne did glare;                      145

    And thus he saide; oh brother, friend, and kynge,

    Have I deserved this fremed speche to heare?

    Bie Goddes hie hallidome ne thoughte the thynge.

    When Tostus sent me golde and sylver store,

  I scornd hys present vile, and scorn'd hys treason more.                150

 

    Forgive me, Gyrthe, the brave Kynge Harolde cryd;

    Who can I trust, if brothers are not true?

    I think of Tostus, once my joie and pryde.

    Girthe saide, with looke adigne; my lord, I doe.

    But what oure foemen are, quod Girth, I'll shewe;                     155

    By Gods hie hallidome they preestes are.

    Do not, quod Harolde, Girthe, mystell them so,

    For theie are everich one brave men at warre.

    Quod Girthe; why will ye then provoke theyr hate?

  Quod Harolde; great the foe, so is the glorie grete.                    160

 

    And nowe Duke Willyam mareschalled his band,

    And stretchd his armie owte a goodlie rowe.

    First did a ranke of arcublastries stande,

    Next those on horsebacke drewe the ascendyng flo,

    Brave champyones, eche well lerned in the bowe,                       165

    Theyr asenglave acrosse theyr horses ty'd,

    Or with the loverds squier behinde dyd goe,

    Or waited squier lyke at the horses syde.

    When thus Duke Willyam to a Monke dyd saie,

  Prepare thyselfe wyth spede, to Harolde haste awaie.                    170

 

    Telle hym from me one of these three to take;

    That hee to mee do homage for thys lande,

    Or mee hys heyre, when he deceasyth, make,

    Or to the judgment of Chrysts vicar stande.

    He saide; the Monke departyd out of hande,                            175

    And to Kyng Harolde dyd this message bear;

    Who said; tell thou the duke, at his likand

    If he can gette the crown hee may itte wear.

    He said, and drove the Monke out of his syghte,

  And with his brothers rouz'd each manne to bloudie fyghte.              180

 

    A standarde made of sylke and jewells rare,

    Wherein alle coloures wroughte aboute in bighes,

    An armyd knyghte was seen deth-doynge there,

    Under this motte, He conquers or he dies.

    This standard rych, endazzlynge mortal eyes,                          185

    Was borne neare Harolde at the Renters heade,

    Who chargd hys broders for the grete empryze

    That straite the hest for battle should be spredde.

    To evry erle and knyghte the worde is gyven,

  And cries _a guerre_ and slughornes shake the vaulted heaven.      190

 

    As when the erthe, torne by convulsyons dyre,

    In reaulmes of darkness hid from human syghte,

    The warring force of water, air, and fyre,

    Brast from the regions of eternal nyghte,

    Thro the darke caverns seeke the reaulmes of lyght;                   195

    Some loftie mountaine, by its fury torne,

    Dreadfully moves, and causes grete affryght;

    Now here, now there, majestic nods the bourne,

    And awfulle shakes, mov'd by the almighty force,

  Whole woods and forests nod, and ryvers change theyr course.            200

 

    So did the men of war at once advaunce,

    Linkd man to man, enseemed one boddie light;

    Above a wood, yform'd of bill and launce,

    That noddyd in the ayre most straunge to syght.

    Harde as the iron were the menne of mighte,                           205

    Ne neede of slughornes to enrowse theyr minde;

    Eche shootynge spere yreaden for the fyghte,

    More feerce than fallynge rocks, more swefte than wynd;

    With solemne step, by ecchoe made more dyre,

  One single boddie all theie marchd, theyr eyen on fyre.                 210

 

    And now the greie-eyd morne with vi'lets drest,

    Shakyng the dewdrops on the flourie meedes,

    Fled with her rosie radiance to the West:

    Forth from the Easterne gatte the fyerie steedes

    Of the bright sunne awaytynge spirits leedes:                         215

    The sunne, in fierie pompe enthrond on hie,

    Swyfter than thoughte alonge hys jernie gledes,

    And scatters nyghtes remaynes from oute the skie:

    He sawe the armies make for bloudie fraie,

  And stopt his driving steeds, and hid his lyghtsome raye.               220

 

    Kynge Harolde hie in ayre majestic raysd

    His mightie arme, deckt with a manchyn rare;

    With even hande a mighty javlyn paizde,

    Then furyouse sent it whystlynge thro the ayre.

    It struck the helmet of the Sieur de Beer;                            225

    In vayne did brasse or yron stop its waie;

    Above his eyne it came, the bones dyd tare,

    Peercynge quite thro, before it dyd allaie;

    He tumbled, scritchyng wyth hys horrid payne;

  His hollow cuishes rang upon the bloudie pleyne.                        230

 

    This Willyam saw, and soundynge Rowlandes songe

    He bent his yron interwoven bowe,

    Makynge bothe endes to meet with myghte full stronge,

    From out of mortals syght shot up the floe;

    Then swyfte as fallynge starres to earthe belowe                      235

    It slaunted down on Alfwoldes payncted sheelde;

    Quite thro the silver-bordurd crosse did goe,

    Nor loste its force, but stuck into the feelde;

    The Normannes, like theyr sovrin, dyd prepare,

  And shotte ten thousande floes uprysynge in the aire.                   240

 

    As when a flyghte of cranes, that takes their waie

    In householde armies thro the flanched skie,

    Alike the cause, or companie or prey,

    If that perchaunce some boggie fenne is nie.

    Soon as the muddie natyon theie espie,                                245

    Inne one blacke cloude theie to the erth descende;

    Feirce as the fallynge thunderbolte they flie;

    In vayne do reedes the speckled folk defend:

    So prone to heavie blowe the arrowes felle,

  And peered thro brasse, and sente manie to heaven or helle.             250

 

    Ælan Adelfred, of the stowe of Leigh,

    Felte a dire arrowe burnynge in his breste;

    Before he dyd, he sente hys spear awaie,

    Thenne sunke to glorie and eternal reste.

    Nevylle, a Normanne of alle Normannes beste,                          255

    Throw the joint cuishe dyd the javlyn feel,

    As hee on horsebacke for the fyghte addressd,

    And sawe hys bloude come smokynge oer the steele;

    He sente the avengynge floe into the ayre,

  And turnd hys horses hedde, and did to leeche repayre.                  260

 

    And now the javelyns, barbd with deathhis wynges,

    Hurld from the Englysh handes by force aderne,

    Whyzz dreare alonge, and songes of terror synges,

    Such songes as alwaies clos'd in lyfe eterne.

    Hurld by such strength along the ayre theie burne,                    265

    Not to be quenched butte ynn Normannes bloude;

    Wherere theie came they were of lyfe forlorn,

    And alwaies followed by a purple floude;

    Like cloudes the Normanne arrowes did descend,

  Like cloudes of carnage full in purple drops dyd end.                   270

 

    Nor, Leofwynus, dydst thou still estande;

    Full soon thie pheon glytted in the aire;

    The force of none but thyne and Harolds hande

    Could hurle a javlyn with such lethal geer;

    Itte whyzzd a ghastlie dynne in Normannes ear,                        275

    Then thundryng dyd upon hys greave alyghte,

    Peirce to his hearte, and dyd hys bowels tear,

    He closd hys eyne in everlastynge nyghte;

    Ah! what avayld the lyons on his creste!

  His hatchments rare with him upon the grounde was prest.                280

 

    Willyam agayne ymade his bowe-ends meet,

    And hie in ayre the arrowe wynged his waie,

    Descendyng like a shafte of thunder sleete,

    Lyke thunder rattling at the noon of daie,

    Onne Algars sheelde the arrowe dyd assaie,                            285

    There throghe dyd peerse, and stycke into his groine;

    In grypynge torments on the feelde he laie,

    Tille welcome dethe came in and clos'd his eyne;

    Distort with peyne he laie upon the borne,

  Lyke sturdie elms by stormes in uncothe wrythynges torne.               290

 

    Alrick his brother, when hee this perceevd,

    He drewe his swerde, his lefte hande helde a speere,

    Towards the duke he turnd his prauncyng steede,

    And to the Godde of heaven he sent a prayre;

    Then sent his lethale javlyn in the ayre,                             295

    On Hue de Beaumontes backe the javelyn came,

    Thro his redde armour to hys harte it tare,

    He felle and thondred on the place of fame;

    Next with his swerde he 'sayld the Seiur de Roe,

  And braste his sylver helme, so furyous was the blowe.                  300

 

    But Willyam, who had seen hys prowesse great,

    And feered muche how farre his bronde might goe,

    Tooke a strong arblaster, and bigge with fate

    From twangynge iron sente the fleetynge floe.

    As Alric hoistes hys arme for dedlie blowe,                           305

    Which, han it came, had been Du Roees laste,

    The swyfte-wyngd messenger from Willyams bowe

    Quite throwe his arme into his syde ypaste;

    His eyne shotte fyre, lyke blazyng starre at nyghte,

  He grypd his swerde, and felle upon the place of fyghte.                310

 

    O Alfwolde, saie, how shalle I synge of thee

    Or telle how manie dyd benethe thee falle;

    Not Haroldes self more Normanne knyghtes did slee,

    Not Haroldes self did for more praises call;

    How shall a penne like myne then shew it all?                         315

    Lyke thee their leader, eche Bristowyanne foughte;

    Lyke thee, their blaze must be canonical,

    Fore theie, like thee, that daie bewrecke yroughte:

    Did thirtie Normannes fall upon the grounde,

  Full half a score from thee and theie receive their fatale wounde.      320

 

    First Fytz Chivelloys felt thie direful force;

    Nete did hys helde out brazen sheelde availe;

    Eftsoones throwe that thie drivynge speare did peerce

    Nor was ytte stopped by his coate of mayle;

    Into his breaste it quicklie did assayle;                             325

    Out ran the bloude, like hygra of the tyde;

    With purple stayned all hys adventayle;

    In scarlet was his cuishe of sylver dyde:

    Upon the bloudie carnage house he laie,

  Whylst hys longe sheelde dyd gleem with the sun's rysing ray.           330

 

    Next Fescampe felle; O Chrieste, howe harde his fate

    To die the leckedst knyghte of all the thronge!

    His sprite was made of malice deslavate,

    Ne shoulden