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

find a place in anie songe.

    The broch'd keene javlyn hurld from honde so stronge                  335

    As thine came thundrynge on his crysted beave;

    Ah! neete avayld the brass or iron thonge,

    With mightie force his skulle in twoe dyd cleave;

    Fallyng he shooken out his smokyng braine,

  As witherd oakes or elmes are hewne from off the playne.                340

 

    For, Norcie, could thie myghte and skilfulle lore

    Preserve thee from the doom of Alfwold's speere;

    Couldste thou not kenne, most skyll'd Astrelagoure.

    How in the battle it would wythe thee fare?

    When Alfwolds javelyn, rattlynge in the ayre,                         345

    From hande dyvine on thie habergeon came,

    Oute at thy backe it dyd thie hartes bloude bear,

    It gave thee death and everlastynge fame;

    Thy deathe could onlie come from Alfwolde arme,

  As diamondes onlie can its fellow diamonds harme.                       350

 

    Next Sire du Mouline fell upon the grounde,

    Quite throughe his throte the lethal javlyn preste,

    His soule and bloude came roushynge from the wounde;

    He closd his eyen, and opd them with the blest.

    It can ne be I should behight the rest,                               355

    That by the myghtie arme of Alfwolde felle,

    Paste bie a penne to be counte or expreste,

    How manie Alfwolde sent to heaven or helle;

    As leaves from trees shook by derne Autumns hand,

  So laie the Normannes slain by Alfwold on the strand.                   360

 

    As when a drove of wolves withe dreary yelles

    Assayle some flocke, ne care if shepster ken't,

    Besprenge destructione oer the woodes and delles;

    The shepster swaynes in vayne theyr lees lement;

    So foughte the Brystowe menne; ne one crevent,                        365

    Ne onne abashd enthoughten for to flee;

    With fallen Normans all the playne besprent,

    And like theyr leaders every man did flee;

    In vayne on every syde the arrowes fled;

  The Brystowe menne styll ragd, for Alfwold was not dead.                370

 

    Manie meanwhile by Haroldes arm did falle,

    And Leofwyne and Gyrthe encreasd the slayne;

    'Twould take a Nestor's age to synge them all,

    Or telle how manie Normannes preste the playne;

    But of the erles, whom recorde nete hath slayne,                      375

    O Truthe! for good of after-tymes relate,

    That, thowe they're deade, theyr names may lyve agayne,

    And be in deathe, as they in life were, greate;

    So after-ages maie theyr actions see,

  And like to them æternal alwaie stryve to be.                           380

 

    Adhelm, a knyghte, whose holie deathless fire

    For ever bended to St. Cuthbert's shryne,

    Whose breast for ever burnd with sacred fyre.

    And een on erthe he myghte be calld dyvine;

    To Cuthbert's church he dyd his goodes resygne,                       385

    And lefte hys son his God's and fortunes knyghte;

    His son the Saincte behelde with looke adigne,

    Made him in gemot wyse, and greate in fyghte;

    Saincte Cuthberte dyd him ayde in all hys deedes,

  His friends he lets to live, and all his fomen bleedes.                 390

 

    He married was to Kenewalchae faire,

    The fynest dame the sun or moone adave;

    She was the myghtie Aderedus heyre,

    Who was alreadie hastynge to the grave;

    As the blue Bruton, rysinge from the wave,                            395

    Like sea-gods seeme in most majestic guise.

    And rounde aboute the risynge waters lave,

    And their longe hayre arounde their bodie flies,

    Such majestic was in her porte displaid,

  To be excelld bie none but Homer's martial maid.                        400

 

    White as the chaulkie clyffes of Brittaines isle,

    Red as the highest colour'd Gallic wine,

    Gaie as all nature at the mornynge smile,

    Those hues with pleasaunce on her lippes combine,

    Her lippes more redde than summer evenynge skyne,                     405

    Or Phoebus rysinge in a frostie morne,

    Her breste more white than snow in feeldes that lyene,

    Or lillie lambes that never have been shorne,

    Swellynge like bubbles in a boillynge welle,

  Or new-braste brooklettes gently whyspringe in the delle.               410

 

    Browne as the fylberte droppyng from the shelle,

    Browne as the nappy ale at Hocktyde game,

    So browne the crokyde rynges, that featlie fell

    Over the neck of the all-beauteous dame.

    Greie as the morne before the ruddie flame                            415

    Of Phoebus charyotte rollynge thro the skie,

    Greie as the steel-horn'd goats Conyan made tame,

    So greie appeard her featly sparklyng eye;

    Those eyne, that did oft mickle pleased look

  On Adhelm valyaunt man, the virtues doomsday book.                      420

 

    Majestic as the grove of okes that stoode

    Before the abbie buylt by Oswald kynge;

    Majestic as Hybernies holie woode,

    Where sainctes and soules departed masses synge;

    Such awe from her sweete looke forth issuynge                         425

    At once for reveraunce and love did calle;

    Sweet as the voice of thraslarkes in the Spring,

    So sweet the wordes that from her lippes did falle;

    None fell in vayne; all shewed some entent;

  Her wordies did displaie her great entendement.                         430

 

    Tapre as candles layde at Cuthberts shryne,

    Tapre as elmes that Goodrickes abbie shrove,

    Tapre as silver chalices for wine,

    So tapre was her armes and shape ygrove.

    As skyllful mynemenne by the stones above                             435

    Can ken what metalle is ylach'd belowe,

    So Kennewalcha's face, ymade for love,

    The lovelie ymage of her soule did shewe;

    Thus was she outward form'd; the sun her mind

  Did guilde her mortal shape and all her charms refin'd.                 440

 

    What blazours then, what glorie shall he clayme,

    What doughtie Homere shall hys praises synge,

    That lefte the bosome of so fayre a dame

    Uncall'd, unaskt, to serve his lorde the kynge?

    To his fayre shrine goode subjects oughte to bringe                   445

    The armes, the helmets, all the spoyles of warre,

    Throwe everie reaulm the poets blaze the thynge,

    And travelling merchants spredde hys name to farre;

    The stoute Norwegians had his anlace felte,

  And nowe amonge his foes dethe-doynge blowes he delte.                  450

 

    As when a wolfyn gettynge in the meedes

    He rageth sore, and doth about hym slee,

    Nowe here a talbot, there a lambkin bleeds,

    And alle the grasse with clotted gore doth stree;

    As when a rivlette rolles impetuouslie,                               455

    And breaks the bankes that would its force restrayne,

    Alonge the playne in fomynge rynges doth flee,

    Gaynste walles and hedges doth its course maintayne;

    As when a manne doth in a corn-fielde mowe,

  With ease at one felle stroke full manie is laide lowe.                 460

 

    So manie, with such force, and with such ease,

    Did Adhelm slaughtre on the bloudie playne;

    Before hym manie dyd theyr hearts bloude lease,

    Ofttymes he foughte on towres of smokynge slayne.

    Angillian felte his force, nor felte in vayne;                        465

    He cutte hym with his swerde athur the breaste;

    Out ran the bloude, and did hys armoure stayne,

    He clos'd his eyen in æternal reste;

    Lyke a tall oke by tempeste borne awaie,

  Stretchd in the armes of dethe upon the plaine he laie.                 470

 

    Next thro the ayre he sent his javlyn feerce,

    That on De Clearmoundes buckler did alyghte,

    Throwe the vaste orbe the sharpe pheone did peerce,

    Rang on his coate of mayle and spente its mighte.

    But soon another wingd its aiery flyghte,                             475

    The keen broad pheon to his lungs did goe;

    He felle, and groand upon the place of fighte,

    Whilst lyfe and bloude came issuynge from the blowe.

    Like a tall pyne upon his native playne,

  So fell the mightie sire and mingled with the slaine.                   480

 

    Hue de Longeville, a force doughtre mere,

    Advauncyd forwarde to provoke the darte,

    When soone he founde that Adhelmes poynted speere

    Had founde an easie passage to his hearte.

    He drewe his bowe, nor was of dethe astarte,                          485

    Then fell down brethlesse to encrease the corse;

    But as he drewe hys bowe devoid of arte,

    So it came down upon Troyvillains horse;

    Deep thro hys hatchments wente the pointed floe;

  Now here, now there, with rage bleedyng he rounde doth goe.             490

 

    Nor does he hede his mastres known commands,

    Tyll, growen furiouse by his bloudie wounde,

    Erect upon his hynder feete he staundes,

    And throwes hys mastre far off to the grounde.

    Near Adhelms feete the Normanne laie astounde,                        495

    Besprengd his arrowes, loosend was his sheelde,

    Thro his redde armoure, as he laie ensoond,

    He peercd his swerde, and out upon the feelde

    The Normannes bowels steemd, a dedlie syghte!

  He opd and closd hys eyen in everlastynge nyghte.                       500

 

    Caverd, a Scot, who for the Normannes foughte,

    A man well skilld in swerde and soundynge strynge,

    Who fled his country for a crime enstrote,

    For darynge with bolde worde hys loiaule kynge,

    He at Erie Aldhelme with grete force did flynge                       505

    An heavie javlyn, made for bloudie wounde,

    Alonge his sheelde askaunte the same did ringe,

    Peered thro the corner, then stuck in the grounde;

    So when the thonder rauttles in the skie,

  Thro some tall spyre the shaftes in a torn clevis flie.                 510

 

    Then Addhelm hurld a croched javlyn stronge,

    With mighte that none but such grete championes know;

    Swifter than thoughte the javlyn past alonge,

    Ande hytte the Scot most feirclie on the prowe;

    His helmet brasted at the thondring blowe,                            515

    Into his brain the tremblyn javlyn steck;

    From eyther syde the bloude began to flow,

    And run in circling ringlets rounde his neck;

    Down fell the warriour on the lethal strande,

  Lyke some tall vessel wreckt upon the tragick sande.                    520

 

 

 

 

  CONTINUED.

 

 

    Where fruytlefs heathes and meadowes cladde in greie,

    Save where derne hawthornes reare theyr humble heade,

    The hungrie traveller upon his waie

    Sees a huge desarte alle arounde hym spredde,

    The distaunte citie scantlie to be spedde,                            525

    The curlynge force of smoke he sees in vayne,

    Tis too far distaunte, and hys onlie bedde

    Iwimpled in hys cloke ys on the playne,

    Whylste rattlynge thonder forrey oer his hedde,

  And raines come down to wette hys harde uncouthlie bedde.               530

 

    A wondrous pyle of rugged mountaynes standes,

    Placd on eche other in a dreare arraie,

    It ne could be the worke of human handes,

    It ne was reared up bie menne of claie.

    Here did the Brutons adoration paye                                   535

    To the false god whom they did Tauran name,

    Dightynge hys altarre with greete fyres in Maie,

    Roastynge theyr vyctimes round aboute the flame,

    'Twas here that Hengyst did the Brytons slee,

  As they were mette in council for to bee.                               540

 

    Neere on a loftie hylle a citie standes,

    That lyftes yts scheafted heade ynto the skies,

    And kynglie lookes arounde on lower landes,

    And the longe browne playne that before itte lies.

    Herewarde, borne of parentes brave and wyse,                          545

    Within this vylle fyrste adrewe the ayre,

    A blessynge to the erthe sente from the skies,

    In anie kyngdom nee coulde fynde his pheer;

    Now rybbd in steele he rages yn the fyghte,

  And sweeps whole armies to the reaulmes of nyghte.                      550

 

    So when derne Autumne wyth hys sallowe hande

    Tares the green mantle from the lymed trees,

    The leaves besprenged on the yellow strande

    Flie in whole armies from the blataunte breeze;

    Alle the whole fielde a carnage-howse he sees,                        555

    And sowles unknelled hover'd oer the bloude;

    From place to place on either hand he slees,

    And sweepes alle neere hym lyke a bronded floude;

    Dethe honge upon his arme; he sleed so maynt,

  'Tis paste the pointel of a man to paynte.                              560

 

    Bryghte sonne in haste han drove hys fierie wayne

    A three howres course alonge the whited skyen,

    Vewynge the swarthless bodies on the playne,

    And longed greetlie to plonce in the bryne.

    For as hys beemes and far-stretchynge eyne                            565

    Did view the pooles of gore yn purple sheene,

    The wolsomme vapours rounde hys lockes dyd twyne,

    And dyd disfygure all hys femmlikeen;

    Then to harde actyon he hys wayne dyd rowse,

  In hyssynge ocean to make glair hys browes.                             570

 

    Duke Wyllyam gave commaunde, eche Norman knyghte,

    That been war-token in a shielde so fyne,

    Shoulde onward goe, and dare to closer fyghte

    The Saxonne warryor, that dyd so entwyne,

    Lyke the neshe bryon and the eglantine,                               575