Chapter IV: Part IV: By RICHARD NICCOLS, (2)

For loe, a Pictish souldier 'mongst the foes
Spake in the British tongue: “Yeeld (O friends) yield,
No more your selues to death in vaine oppose,
_Arthur_ is dead, and with him dead in field
His knights are laid, on whom our hopes did build:”
This spake he with lowd voice in th’heate of fight,
Thereby to turne our battaile into flight:

104.

But I that heard and knew his close intent,
In front of all the field my selfe did show
Whereby my Britons, that before were bent
To turne their backes, turn’d head vpon the foe,
’Twixt whom the fight againe did feruent grow,
With whom I brake into the dangerous fight
In hope to meet with _Mordred_, that false knight.

105.

My launce and sword did many a bosome sacke
Of life’s rich spoiles, which were all men of name,
The common sort my hand in troopes did wrack,
For through deepe wounds and death in martiall game
I did enforce my way to win me fame,
Till wounded in the head with fatall steele
My death’s approch in fight I gan to feele.

106.

Yet when warme blood through my crackt veines flow,
And subtle aire gan pierce the liuely braine,
The eager anguish did my valor show:
For manie foemen in my furie slaine
Did pay my wreake with death and deadlie baine:
Still did I fight, although with fainting breath,
Vntill in fight I heard of _Mordred’s_ death.

107.

Whose tragick fall when true report did tell,
His souldiers fled away, and in their flight
Vp flew their heeles, in slaughter fast they fell,
Darts thick as haile their backs behinde did smite,
Farre more in chase did fall, then in the fight:
Yea none had scap’t the furie of that day
Had not my bleeding wounds stood in my way.

108.

In manie a fight before in death’s despight
Vpon my head ten wounds I did sustaine,
With life vntoucht: but in this fatall fight
Remorslesse fate to end my life and reigne
With one deepe wound did wound my vitall braine:
For in the chace with torment of that wound
Deathe’s touch I felt and fell vpon the ground.

109.

From whence conuei’d to Glastenburie by
By my deare friends, who did in vaine pretend
To saue my life, loe, as I there did lie
In th’armes of death, perceiuing how each friend
Did shew his ruth, in teares for my sad end,
These words I spake, before my vading breath
Did flie away vpon the wings of death.

110.

“Grieue not,” said I, “to see your wounded king
Wrapt in the ruine of his life now done:
For Phœnix-like from death new life shall spring,
Which in this life I by my death haue wonne,
I dead, that left to liue, when I am gone,
Yea, this in death shall liue my future grace,
I di’d a conquerour in cold death’s embrace.

111.

The kingly ruth which our sad soule attends
Is our deare countrie’s sight, which setled deepe
In depth of my deare loue (O noble friends)
To you I tender ’gainst all spoile to keepe,
When I in peace haue laid me down to sleepe,
Death now triumphs, my mortall daies are done.
My houre is spent, my glasse is quite outrun.”

112.

This said, when I twice thirteene yeares had been
The stout defendant of my countrie’s right,
My soule did leaue th’abodes of mortall men,
My liuelesse limbes in secret hid from sight,
Interred were at Glastenburie hight:
Thus hast thou heard the truth of all my storie,
My life, my death, and my nere dying glorie.

113.

In which as in a glasse, seeing men may see
That action only dignifies the name,
That vertue betters euery bare degree,
That vading pleasures vpshot is but shame,
And silent sloth the opposite to fame,
Commit to mind, what I commend to thee,
That vnto men a Mirrour it may bee.

THE LIFE AND DEATH

_of King Edmvnd, svrnamed_

Ironside.

THE ARGUMENT.

“This was a worthie prince,” quoth Memorie,
“Peerelesse amongst the kings of Britanie,
After whose death the British rule did cease,
And th’English power did more and more increase:
For not long after on the Britaine throne
The Saxon kings did rule and raigne alone,
Who did at first agree in one consent
To make seuen kingdomes of this regiment,
Which did in that confused sort remaine
Till the beginning of king _Egbert’s_ raigne:
About which time from Denmarke with strong hand
_Inguar_ and _Hubba_ came t’inuade this land,
With whom the Saxons manfully did fight,
And turn’d them oftentimes to coward flight:
Yet did they heere long time beare great command,
Though many a valiant king did them withstand,
'Mongst whom I find this one, whose tragedie
Is not recited in our historie,
Which _Edmund_ call’d, surnamed _Ironside_,
A famous prince, in battell often tride,
Whom fortune still did grace with victorie
In fight against _Canute_ his enemie:
Yet by the cruell fates vniust command
He lost his life by wicked traytor’s hand,
Whom vp from graue let fame with summons call,
To take his turne and tell his tragicke fall.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Fame calles vp _Edmund_ from his graue below,
His life and lamentable death to show.

1.

We are not borne vnto our selues alone,
Deeds done, though good: yet from a greedy mind
Intending priuate weale, when life is gone,
Vading away, leaue no record behind
In fame’s faire booke, for future age to find:
Self-loue to priuate good, no good can craue,
When life is gone such loue lies dead in graue.

2.

The fruits of loue, which after life do liue,
To grow from loue of common good are seene,
To reape such fruit, whoso his life shall giue,
Though dead, yet liues: his fruit aye waxeth greene,
Of which my life a Mirrour might haue been:
But whose sad muse my tragedie doth sing,
Or who to light king _Edmund’s_ deeds doth bring?

3.

Now from my graue, the bed of my long rest
Rous’d vp by fame, through shades of silent night,
Behold I come obeying her behest,
As Mirrours vnto men, to bring to light
My deeds, oft done in my deare countrie’s right:
Heare then (thou sleeping wight) whose mournefull muse
To sing my storie Memorie doth chuse.

4.

I am the sonne of that vnhappie king
Hight _Egelred_, whose daies were wrapt in woe,
And on whose head false fortune downe did fling,
Such miserable scath and ouerthrow,
That he was forc’d his kingdome to forgo:
For subiect’s treacherie did him constraine
To leaue his kingdome vnto bloodie _Swaine_.

5.

To bloodie _Swaine_, who from our Albion shore
Vnto the Norman duke to saue his life,
Forc’d him to flie, whose sister he, before
My mother dead, had made his second wife,
In hope thereby t’appease domesticke strife,
And by the aid of Norman valiancie,
To quell the force of forren enemie.

6.

But hence did rise the ruine of the state,
And fourth decay of Albion’s emperie,
This was the gap, which by decree of fate
Was open laid for time’s posteritie,
Vnto the Norman conquerer’s victorie:
For by these fatall nuptials in the end,
The Norman duke his title did pretend.

7.

My sire being thus constrain’d by forren force,
And subiects treason, in such miserie,
Amongst his Norman friends to seeke remorce
Of his mishaps, the land meane time did lie
Groaning beneath the victor’s tyrannie,
For nere did captiu’d men sustaine such woes,
As did the english of the conquering foes.

8.

O noble England, nurse of my renowne,
Queene of all ilands canoped of heauen,
How was thy towring state then troden downe?
How were thy sonnes from their sad mother driuen?
Thy daughter’s beautie vnto rapine giuen?
My words, alas, will thy sad heart compell
To bleed with woe, these woes to heare me tell.

9.

The simple hinde, who with day-labour stroue
In fruitlesse field to furrow vp his bread,
Nor for himselfe the earth with paine did proue,
But for another, whom his labour fed,
Although in heart he often wisht him dead,
In euery house lord Dane did then rule all,
Whence laysie lozels lurdanes now we call.

10.

The nuptiall bed, the lodge of chaste delight,
Was common vs’d in wedlocke’s foule disdaine,
Sweet virgins daily forc’d to deeds of night,
Faire ladies beautie set to sale for gaine,
Children made bondslaues, wretched husbands slain,
Who to such rufull spoile were iustly giuen
For their offence against the king of heauen.

11.

Let such, whose peacefull eares from sad affright
Of warre’s dread voice the hand of heauen doth close,
Who lull’d in that dame’s lap of sweet delight,
The queene of peace do sleepe secure of foes,
Thinke it humane, to thinke on other’s woes:
And in such thoughts fear such like woes to come,
For their offence ordain’d by Ioue’s iust doome.

12.

The life of state lay stifeled in the smoke
Of blacke despaire, till death tooke life from _Swaine_,
Then th’english peeres shooke off the heauie yoke
Of forren pride, which they did erst sustaine,
And did recall my father home againe,
Who did enforce by power of his strong hand
_Canute_ the sonne of _Swaine_ to leaue this land.

13.

Then did he seeke to reerect againe
The ruines of his crowne’s collapsed state:
But he, t’whom at his birth heauen did ordaine
In all his deeds ineuitable fate
Of bad euent, euen to his daie’s last date
His wishfull hopes in vaine did seeke t’aduance,
Vpon th’vnsteadie wheele of fickle chance.

14.

For ere those sprightfull horse of heauenly breed,
That draw the chariot of the golden sunne,
Who day by day do vse their swiftest speed
From east to west their yeare’s full race had runne,
Our fatall foe _Canute_ king _Swanus_ sonne,
To wretched England made returne againe
From Denmarke shores with many a thousand Dane.

15.

Who taking land at _Sandwich_ in their ire,
Deuoid of pitie in the spoile of good,
Senselesse of humane woes with spoilefull fire
All things did burne, that in their passage stood,
Nor yet suffic’d: but thirsting after blood,
All doom’d to death, none kept for captiue bands,
Were slaine in troopes by their remorcelesse hands.

16.

T’oppose their powers in field I soone did cite
My father’s subiects from all quarters by:
But when prepar’d we were in field to fight,
Th’unhappie tidings through our host did flie
Of false duke _Edrick_ and his treacherie,
Who with his troope in depth of darkest night,
Vnto _Canutus_ campe did take his flight.

17.

Whereby made weake vnable to withstand
Th’augmented powers of our insulting foe,
We backe return’d with our disabled band,
And to our kingly father we did show
Duke _Edrick’s_ treason, which, alas, with woe
So wounds his heart, that he expires his breath,
Poore aged king, and ends his woes in death.

18.

He being dead, to me his eldest borne,
Was left the reliques of a ruin’d state,
By rage of Mars a kingdome rent and torne,
A diademe by sterne decree of fate
Ordain’d for prize of bloodie warre’s debate,
Which was the end, for which _Canute_ and I
In martial field did many a battell trie.

19.

O wretched end of glorie thirsting pride!
O vaine pursuit of empire and renowne!
What lot the land of discord doth betide
But wastfull spoile and all turn’d topsie downe?
What doe we purchase but a carefull crowne?
A crowne of care, the cause of froward strife,
The cause for which I lost my loued life.

20.

For after that against th’inuading foe
Six bloodie battailes I had fought in field,
I that in warre away did victor goe,
On whom (O England) thou thy hopes didst build,
Vanquish’t in peace to death was forc’d to yeeld:
The chance of warre my chance could not apall,
But trust in traytors wrought my wretched fall.

21.

When as the crowne my head did first adorne,
These thoughts vnto my selfe, I thus did frame:
Vnto my selfe I am not onlie borne,
My countrie deare the cheefest part doth claime,
Who to my care now kneeles and craues the same,
To saue the remnant of her ruin’d soile
From cruell foes that threat her vtter spoile.

22.

The thought of this did spirit bold inspire,
And smart of wounds receiu’d from foes of late
Did with swift furie feather my desire,
Which of itself by nature’s gifts did hate
To linger time, deferring vtmost fate
In doubtfull chance of battaile to be tride,
For which I was surnam’d, hight _Ironside_.

23.

This fire of expedition in affaires
And height of resolution t’vndergoe,
Compar’d to strength of limbes and restlesse cares,
Redoubled in my thoughts t’oppugne the foe,
And yeeld releefe to England in her woe,
Did touch _Canutus_ hart with feare, though bent
To trie his fortunes in the warre’s euent.

24.

Distracted thus with doubt, in any place
By doubtfull fight t’ingage his hopefull fate,
False _Edrick_ hoping for to purchase grace,
Who for his treason to my sire of late,
Had run in danger of my deadlie hate,
Did plot the downfall of mine emperie,
And in the end did act my tragedie.

25.

From prince _Canutus_ campe in dead of night,
Like the Greekes subtile _Synon_, to effect
His wicked plot, to vs he tooke his flight,
And at our feete himselfe he did proiect,
And spake, as if his thoughts had no respect
To his owne life: for he with craftie wile
Of seeming sorrow thus did me beguile.

26.

“O noble prince,” quoth he, “loe, I am come
As guiltie to my selfe, and do require
To suffer shamefull death by righteous doome
From thine owne mouth, against whose royall sire
And gainst thy selfe I did of late conspire:
Pronounce then death, a doome more sweet to mee,
Then aged dayes in loathed life can bee.

27.

Ay me the dayes, on you I may exclaime,
In which to foule defame my life I lent:
Alas, the nights, that testifie my shame,
Your secret treasons I too late repent:
O wrongfull world, that made my thoughts consent:
Nor dayes, nor nights, nor world in future time,
But will for aye record my gracelesse crime.

28.

In vaine mine eyes, that shame yee do lament,
Which follows me where euer I doe wone,
In vaine my sighs, in vaine yee now are sent
From wofull hart to waile my trespasse done:
For should I liue, foule shame how shall I shun?
Then welcome death, ’tis death must end my woe,
Vnto my graue my greefe with me will goe.”

29.

This said, he wept and I began relent
And take remorse on his calamitie,
His hoarie head did moue me to lament
His wretched state, whom I from miserie
Restor’d againe to former dignitie:
For I, whose thoughts nere double dealing knew,
Did also thinke his thoughts vnfan’d and true.

30.

He being restor’d againe to liue in grace,
Did cloake beneath the vaile of loyaltie,
Th’intent of treason and did maske the face
Of foule deceit with fawning flatterie,
Till time-borne truth did shew his treacherie,
For many a field and many a dreadfull fight
His treason shew’d, which time did bring to light.

31.

The scourge of peacefull pride, the god of warre,
The prodigue spender of sweet plentie’s store
Did ride about our coast in iron carre,
Whose thundring wheeles like Neptune’s dreaded rore,
Were heard to rattle on our Albion shore,
So long, vntill the pale-fac’d queene of night
Had twelue times borrow’d of her brother’s light.

32.

In six fierce battels fought in martiall field,
Fortune my sword with conquest did renowne,
Six times _Canute_ ore-match’d in fight did yeeld
And fled away, by froward fate cast downe,
Leauing to me the hope of England’s crowne:
Whose hopes my sword had smothered in the dust,
If I to traytor’s words had giuen no trust.

33.

For, after that I had with foule affright
Dispers’d the bold _Canutus_ mightie host,
That had begirt my loyall London hight,
Lest any breathing space might haue been lost,
I follow’d him vnto that rockie coast,
Ouer whose mountaine tops the daie’s great guide,
The golden sunne appeares each morning tide.

34.

And there where Medway with his siluer streames
Runs gliding downe the lowlie dales of Kent,
Vntill he meetes his elder brother Thames,
Vpon a hill I pight my warlike tent,
Expecting how the foes, that night stood bent,
If till the morne they did determine stay,
Or daunted with late foile would flie away.

35.

The night we past in quiet sleepe’s repose,
And when the bright-cheekt ladie of the light
Tir’d with night’s toyle from Tython’s bed arose,
And in her saffron-coloured robe bedight
With her approch brought vse to mortall fight,
We troopt our men in Mars’ his best array,
Vpon the foes in field to giue th’assay.

36.

The foes stood firme vpon the sandie ground,
Shaking their deadlie darts with countnance proud:
Then did the trump the song of battaile sound,
And Danish kettle drums did beate alowd,
While euerie one in midst of martiall crowd
Insatiate in reuenge vndaunted stood,
Imbruing their bold hands in humane blood.

37.

While thus oppos’d both parts in fight did stand,
Hopefull of conquest, on the right side wing
Of all the host, nere to the slimie strand,
Where the sweet herbes by Medwaie’s streames do spring,
The cries of wounded souldiers high did ring,
For there _Canute_ did charge with violent sway
Of his horse troopes, in hope to win the day.

38.

But to represse the fire and quench the flame
Of his hot courage, with a troope of horse
I rusht amongst his men with loud exclame,
Whom with fierce furie in our winged course
We did so charge, that we did soone inforce
Their faint retire, which we did swift pursue,
Vntill with open flight from field they flew.

39.

Then were the Kentish vales imbru’d in blood,
Then death was set on foote and thousands fell,
The brackish wanes of Medganara’s flood
With slaughtered bodies 'boue the bankes did swell,
Whose blushing streames the fight far of did tell
Painting the bankes with crimson in the way,
As they did glide into the Orean sea.

40.

Here heauen did smile on me with gracious looke,
And fortune put faire conquest in my hand,
On bald occasion hold I might haue tooke
And thence-forth freed the subiects of my land
From seruile yoke of forraine king’s command:
But what we purpose heauen doth still decree,
In vaine we wish what heauen wils not to bee.

41.

The treacherous duke, the faithlesse man at armes,
Ignoble _Edrick_ thus did counsell mee:
“My liege,” quoth he, “we hazard now more harmes
In pursuit of the flying enemie,
Then earst we did before the victorie,
’Tis best we sound retreate and fall to spoile,
Of these dead foes vpon the sandie soile.

42.

Your men, though bold, yet wearied with the fight,
Be faint, and fortune may the foes so grace,
That they, constrain’d with desperate feare from flight
To backward death againe to turne their face,
May charge our troopes disordered in the chace:
Distraction heartens feare in desperate deeds,
Constraint in coward thoughts rash valor breeds.”

43.

This did he speake despairing hope to come
For prince _Canute_, if we pursu’d the chace:
Some did approue his counsell sound, and some
Did vrge against the same, yet found it grace
With those both rightlie wise and best in place:
By whose aduice retreate I did command,
Losing the chance then put into my hand.

44.

Thus did Troye’s helme-deckt, _Hector_ when in chace
He had the Greekes vpon Scamander’s plaine,
And made them house their heads with deepe disgrace
In their owne fleet: whom then hee could haue slaine
And burnt their ships, which did their hopes containe:
But then being crost by lucklesse destinie
He did omit the profferd victorie.

45.

Thus did Rome’s scourge, the famous _Hanniball_,
For when he might with his victorious powers
Haue made that towne beneath his sword to fall,
And leueld with the ground her high topt towers,
Then did he let passe those auspicious houers,
In which with ease he might haue queld the foe,
Who after wrought his and his countrie’s woe.

46.

Securefull thoughts do foster fond delay,
Bewitching hopes breed carelesnesse of minde,
Occasion set on wing flies fast away,
Whose backe once turn’d no hold fast can we finde,
Her feet are swift, bald is her head behinde,
Who so hath hold and after lets her goe,
Doth lose the lot which fortune did bestowe.

47.

Euen as a fire supprest, if yet remaine
A sparke not quite extinct, whence growes a flame,
Wil soone resume his former strength againe:
Euen so _Canutus_ power, which I did tame,
And with one blow might then haue queld the same,
Resum’d proud strength, which little time did yeeld,
And oft times after brau’d me in the field.

48.

The bainfull’st battaile we did euer fight,
At Scorstan was, in fruitfull Worstershire,
Where vnto both the hosts in open sight
Duke _Edrick’s_ treason plainly did appeare,
Which in his hart ’gainst me he still did beare:
The heart once tainted with foule treason’s staine,
Possest with guile, seldome proues true againe.

49.

Two dayes in field we stood in doubtfull fight,
And after mutuall wounds with equall fate,
Both parts were parted by approching night:
But in the next daye’s fight this traytor’s hate
Did shew it selfe, for seeing the foes in state
Of strength declin’d, he sought by treacherie
To giue the day vnto the enemie.

50.

In midst of martiall throng my folk t’excite,
As I did stand in skirmish ’gainst the foe,
A man of armes there was, which _Osmeare_ hight,
So like to mee, that scarse you could him know,
By whom this traytor sought to worke vs woe:
For as in fight he stood without all dread,
False _Edrick_ vndiscern’d did strike him dead.

51.

Whose liuelesse lims in endlesse sleepe fast bound,
After he had despoil’d and headlesse made,
He tooke himselfe vnto an higher ground,
And piching _Osmear’s_ head vpon his blade,
He held the same on high and thus he said:
“Flie, wretched countrimen, your king is dead,
The day is lost, see here king _Edmund’s_ head.”

52.

The suddaine horror of this vncouth sight
With suddaine fright my folke did so dismay,
That they which were not in that part of fight
Where with my launce and sword I did display
Th’extreamest of my strength to win the day,
Away had fled and lost the victorie,
Had I not heard of _Edrick’s_ treacherie.

53.

With speed on top of an adioyning hill,
My selfe I did conuey, where I in sight
Of all my host thus spake with voice most shrill:
“Fellowes in armes,” quoth I, “let not this slight
Of traytor’s practise your bold thoughts affright:
Behold yet free from death’s captiuitie,
I liue to be reueng’d on th’enimie.”

54.

This said, each one which had begun to flie
Turn’d head againe, and stoutly kept his place,
Then rushing with exclaimes on th’enemie,
Eager with furie of their late disgrace,
They gaue the charge so fiercely on the face
Of th’aduerse force, that by their violent might,
They brake the rankes, and turn’d their foes to flight.

55.

With whom the Mercian duke fled fast away,
The traytor _Edrick_ hopelesse now of grace,
Who wing’d with feare of his decreed decay,
Outstript our pursuit, yet with greedie chace
We did pursue, vntill the day gaue place
T’approching night, whose wished presence gaue
Time to the foes themselues from death to saue.

56.

_Canute_ being fled, did slacke no breathing space,
Once more to trie the chance of doubtfull fight:
But gathered his dispersed powers apace,
With whom I by a place, which Dearehurst hight,
In sea-side bordering Glostershire should fight,
Where I with resolution did intend
In single fight this spoilefull warre to end.

57.

When on the fishie Seuerne’s bordering costs
Oppos’d for fight, the battels ranged were,
A noble knight confronting both the hosts,
Did boldly in the midst aduance his speare,
At which both armies did from fight forbeare,
For straight my men I staid, because I knew
His purpose then, which thus he did pursue.

58.

“Yee glory-thirsting sonnes of Mars,” said he,
“To what I speake, with good aduice giue eare,
Let not my words by you contemned be,
If any loue to humane good ye beare,
Yee will esteeme my exhortations deare,
If either part my counsell shall refuse,
No good can happen in these warres we vse.

59.

Not th’haplesse fate, which followes hostile warre:
Nor terrible euents of bloodie fight,
Nor spoiles, that spring from contumelious iarre,
Nor woes produc’d from strife for lordly right,
To you, my countrimen, need I recite,
For woe, alas, this land can testifie
The rauenous rage of Mars his tyrannie.

60.

Pitie the teares of this our mother Ile,
Whose fame which 'bout the world once shone as bright
As Phœbus shine, now dim’d, alas, the while,
With clouds of carefull strife hath lost her light,
That to behold her in this wretched plight,
Like sorowe’s image drown’d in waues of woe,
Would make the hardest flint with teares to flow.

61.

Her fertile wombe, which goodly fruit did beare,
Now barren made, war’s stormie breath hath blasted,
Her buds of gaysome youth, which whilome were
The flowers of chiualrie, haue headlong hasted
Their timelesse end, while she in woe hath wasted,
And we the cause, we wretches, that delight
By wicked warre to worke her more despight.

62.

O noble princes, let not warre’s blacke hand
Put out for aye the shine of England’s light,
About whose right, both in contention stand,
But combate for it in a single fight,
And he that conquers, his be it by right:
Faire conquest’s gift is in the hand of heau’n,
Which vnto truth, for truth’s owne sake is giuen.”

63.

He hauing said, forthwith I forth did step,
And cast my brazen gauntlet on the plaine,
To which _Canute_ with courage bold did lep
And tooke it vp, casting in deepe disdaine
His rich grau’d gauntlet on the ground againe,
Which I accepted and propos’d the day,
When we in fight each other should assay.

64.

For battell was design’d a plot of ground
Within a little ile, which Olney hight,
Whom Seuerne with his armes incircleth round,
Where we as combatants in single fight
Should d’araine bettell in both armie’s sight,
While they assigned were by our command,
On th’other side of Seuern’s streame to stand.

65.

The day of fight being come and order giuen,
Through either host to euery seuerall band
To keepe their stand, my souldiers vp to heau’n
Did cast their eyes, beseeching Ioue to stand
By me in fight, and grace my powerfull hand
With conquest ’gainst _Canute_, by whom cast downe,
They did expect the rise of my renowne.

66.

As they thus prai’d, I arm’d me for the fight,
And being mounted on a sprightfull steed,
When ’twixt both armies I appear’d in sight,
My terrible aspect did terror breed
Vnto the aduerse part, but hope did feed
My souldier’s sight to see my goodly grace,
My stout demeanor, and my stately pace.

67.

As Priam’s Hector on the barren plaine,
Manag’d his horse before the walles of Troy,
When he in single battell did maintaine
Troye’s right ’gainst Telamon, who did imploy
All his best strength bold Hector to destroy,
So on my steed I trotted to and fro,
Waiting th’approch of my expected foe.

68.

Who came at length all arm’d in seemely wise
Into the lists, and when the trumpe did sound,
Our steeds as swift as birds of wings in skies,
Their course did run, and we with speares sharpe ground
Did fiercely meete each other to confound,
In which swift course our shattered speares did flie,
Like feathers borne by winde into the skie.

69.

As two fierce buls fights twixt an heard of kine,
Whose violence doth increase, when in their sight
The crimson blood doth from their wounds decline,
So wounds giuen equally in doubtfull fight,
Our eager thoughts did to reuenge excite,
The anguish arm’d our armes with strength to strike,
And made vs both incounter lion-like.

70.

On horsback first the fight we did maintaine,
And when our horse did faile, dismounting straight
On foote the fight we did begin againe,
In which my foes haut courage gan to abate,
I with my sword laid on such wounds of weight,
That his faint knees did stoope at euerie blow,
And in the fight did stagger to and fro.

71.

Who tir’d with toile and fearing least my sword
Should beare away the palme of victorie,
Thus spake to me: “Forbeare,” quoth he, “braue lord,
This doubtfull fight, and let vs both agree
To ioyne our harts and hands in amitie,
Least that our swords each other do destroy,
Leauing this land for others to inioy.

72.

Right well thou knowst the chance of victorie
Vncertaine is, and though the crowne thou claime
As due to thee and thy posteritie,
So, noble prince, I, in my father’s name,
As my inheritance do craue the same:
In one consent then let vs both agree
That England’s bounds twixt vs may parted bee.

73.

Let not the inward hands of dogged hate
Teare thy great minde, but supple it with grace
Of heauenlie loue, let loue end our debate,
Which if in thought thou trulie canst imbrace,
Then in my hart thou hast a brother’s place,
To which all-seeing Ioue I witnesse call,
Who is the supreame souereigne of vs all.”

74.

To this I pausde a while, but at the length
Conceauing well the combat’s doubtfull chance,
“_Canute_,” said I, “since God hath giuen thee strength
In fight to trie the manage of my lance
And slaughtering sword without thy life’s mischance,
I thinke right well his will likewise it bee,
That in my kingdome thou haue part with me.”

75.

This said, our swords we sheath’d in th’armie’s sight,
And with kinde armes each other did embrace,
Happie it seem’d to those, that did delight
In happie peace, to see such loue take place
Twixt two such mortall foes in so short space:
But haplesse I that did accord thereto,
Th’euent whereof did breed my after woe.

76.

The traytor _Edrick_, preordainde by fate
To act my fall, whom for his treacherie
I daylie did pursue with deadlie hate,
Did instigate his sonne by villanie
With impious hands to act my tragedie,
Who to impietie by nature free,
After this tragick sort did murther mee.

77.

Vpon a time, when in the Muse’s bower,
England’s Parnassus, famous Oxford hight
Was my abode, there in that fatall houre,
When as expedient vse did me excite
To do the deed of nature requisite,
Vnto the draught as was my wont I went
Vnto my nature’s vse to yeeld content.

78.

Where loe, the sonne of this false duke did lie
Hid in the vault, to further his intent
With weapon arm’d: for on the draught while I
Secure did sit, with fatall instrument
This villane gor’d my bodie’s fundament,
And there to death his due I timelesse gaue,
At Glastenburie I was laid in graue.

79.

Thus after twice sixe months, and as much space,
As from the time the swallow leaues her nest,
Till Phœbus haue the lion in full chace,
With th’angrie dog, that from his burning brest
Breaths mortall plagues, hot feauers and vnrest,
When I had raign’d, I lost my life and crowne:
With which our English name lost her renowne.

80.

Thus hast thou heard the sad catastrophe,
And fatall period of my life and raigne,
In which thou seest, that where false treacherie
Hath toucht the heart with her foule finger’s staine,
There seldome constant truth returnes againe,
Which that it may to future times be knowne,
Forget not what was said, when I am gone.

THE LAMENTABLE LIFE

_and death of Prince Alfred, brother_

to King Edmund Ironside.

THE ARGUMENT.

“By death of this braue prince,” quoth Memorie,
“The English lost both fame and libertie,
Too cruell were inexorable fates,
On him so swiftly t’execute their hates:
Yet with his brother _Alfred’s_ wofull end
For tragicke act, his death may not contend,
Who liues an exile all his infancie
With his deare vncle, duke of Normandie,
Whence he in riper yeares recall’d againe,
Returning is betray’d, and on the plaine
By Guilford towne his friends betray’d by night,
Are tith’d to death by _Godwin_, that false knight,
The prince is sent to Elie, where his eyne
Being both put out, with hunger he doth pine,
Till th’instruments of _Harrold’s_ tyrannie
Do butcher him with barbarous crueltie,
Who is the next in course, that must commend
To thee, the maner of his wofull end:
Let fame then call his mournefull ghost to tell
The woes and vncouth death, which him befell.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Prince _Alfred_ summon’d, tells to Memorie
His life, his death, and _Godwin’s_ treacherie.

1.

Of all the sonnes of men, vnhappie fate
With spight pursues the borne of high degree,
Where tyrant wrong vsurpes the chaire of state
The baser subiect sits from danger free,
Wofull it is of royall birth to bee,
Of which my woes a witnesse may remaine,
Such tragicke woes no prince did ere sustaine.

2.

Vp then (thou saddest of the sacred nine)
Cause of sad sorow, neuer hadst thou more,
Vp (rufull ghosts and shew some dolefull signe
Of heauie griefe) powre out your teares in store,
Cause of sad sorow neuer had yee more:
And (thou) the pen-man of my historie
Prepare sad verse for my sad tragedie.

3.

I am that _Alfred_, famous Edmund’s brother,
Who in the time of my minoritie
Was by queene _Emma_ our beloued mother,
Sent to mine vncle duke of Normandie,
There to remaine safe from the enemie,
While heere at home against the sonne of _Swaine_,
My brother _Edmund_ battell did maintaine.

4.

Who being slaine, as thou before didst heare,
By treacherous _Edricke_ and his bloodie sonne,
They for their fact a guerdon due did beare:
For whereas praise by it they thought t’haue wonne
Of king _Canute_, they both to death were done,
Whose hands with blood, whose hearts with treason floe,
Seldome in peace vnto the graue do goe.

5.

Canute being seated on the English throne
By ioynt consent of the nobilitie,
To sit sole monarch in the same alone,
Did daily seeke by wisdome’s policie,
T’establish it to his posteritie,
While I, and _Edward_ hight my elder brother,
Did liue in exile with our wofull mother.

6.

Meane time _Canute_, th’vsurper of our right,
Hug’d in the armes of peace, and finding none
That could oppose themselues against his might,
After all stormes of warre were ouerblowne,
By blood gan tyrant-like t’vsurpe the throne:
For without cause the royall blood he spilt
Of _Edmund’s_ brother _Edwin_, void of guilt.

7.

King _Edmund’s_ sonnes, those faultlesse infants twaine,
_Edmund_ and _Edward_ by his sterne decree,
Were sent vnto the Norway king hight _Swaine_,
He being design’d to act their death: but hee
Lamenting their mishaps, did set them free,
And sent them both vnto th’Hungarian king,
Who kept them safe beneath his soueraigne wing.

8.

_Canute_ being freed from doubtfull feare of those,
That to the diademe might make iust claime,
To peacefull pleasure did his thoughts dispose,
And gan to thinke how with some royall dame,
He in chast bed might amplifie his name,
No sonne he had t’enioy this wretched soile,
But _Harrold_ basely borne of beautie’s spoile.

9.

Vpon our mother he did cast his loue,
On whose dislike of loue we both did build
Our future hopes, but she, alas, to proue
The weakenesse of her sexe, as prompt to yeeld,
Leauing vs both, whom she from harme should sheeld,
Did cast her wauering thoughts vpon _Canute_,
And in the end did grant his vniust suit.

10.

(O) who doth know the wandring eye, that feeds
Th’vnstedfast fancie of weake women’s heart,
Constant in nought, but in inconstant deeds,
In weaknesse strong, as if the soule’s best part
Composed were by fond loue’s artlesse art:
Alas, that faithlesse faults should so excell,
Where faultlesse faith with reason ought to dwell.

11.

She bath’d in blisse, while we lay drown’d in woe,
She grew in pride, while we did pine away,
She soft embrac’d in th’armes of our false foe,
Did smile at our mishaps, while day by day
We did expect our loued liues decay:
For fatall ’tis to princes royall borne
Where tyrant’s browes the garland doth adorne.

12.

So long with her _Canute_ she liu’d in loue,
Till with loue’s fruit her wombe to wex begun,
Which being brought to light, a sonne did proue:
But when that twice nine times the golden sun
In heauen’s bright zodiack through the signes had run,
The clouds of care began the dolefull night,
Which did eclipse the shine of her delight.

13.

Then the deare daies of her dread lord were done,
The stroke of death no mortall may withstand,
The kingdome _Harrold_ his ignoble sonne,
The bastard did aspire, by whose command
Our wretched mother was exil’d the land,
And in despight despoil’d of all that store,
Which her _Canute_ had giuen to her before.

14.

But death’s cold touch so soone did close mine eies,
That I beheld not my sad mother’s woes,
The base vsurper did my death deuise
Before her fall, in court soone finding those,
Whom he to act my tragicke murther chose:
The courts of kings with sycophants do swarme,
Tyrants do want no instruments of harme.

15.

An English earle there was, which _Godwin_ hight,
Whose name about the world report did blaze,
A man of wicked wit, in fortune’s sight
So highly grac’d, that he himselfe did raise
To be the greatest peere in those our daies,
The king was only then a king by name,
While he perform’d the office of the same,

16.

And in the ruffe of his felicitie,
Prickt with ambition, he began disdaine
His bastard lord’s vsurp’d authoritie,
Plotting by priuate counsels, how to gaine
Th’emperiall garland after him to raigne:
Greatnesse in sway of state giues wings t’aspire,
Aduancement feeds ambition with desire.

17.

In broken sleepes he did consume the night,
While his liege lord lay lull’d in th’armes of shame,
Hope of a kingdome was his sole delight,
While _Harrold_ senselesse of all kingly fame,
To idle ease himselfe did only frame,
Which set th’ insulting _Godwin’s_ hopes on wing,
Whence woe is me, my woes did after spring.

18.

My brother and my selfe, alas, the while,
Vnto his hopes to make the passage free,
Were markt for death, nor could our sad exile
Suffice hard fate, my wofull tragedie
Must be the subiect of his treacherie,
We were the obiects of proud _Godwin’s_ frowne,
We only stood betwixt him and the crowne.

19.

T’effect his purpose, he did soone excite
The tyrant king, whose actions he did sway,
To thinke, that while mine eyes beheld heau’n’s light,
He liu’d in reach of danger day by day,
His safetie liu’d vpon my liue’s decay:
For I, he said, being of an haughtie spirit,
Would seeke by might my father’s right t’inherit.

20.

The bastard king to bloodie deeds inclin’d,
To rob me of my life stood fully bent:
Letters forthwith by messengers design’d,
Forged by wicked wits for their intent,
In our queene mother’s name to me were sent,
Which I accepted as vnfain’d and true,
The tenor of the which doth heere ensue.

21.

“Emma, but only England’s queene in name,
_Edward_ and _Alfred_, her two sonnes doth greet
From England’s chiefest peeres, who do reclaime
You both from exile, and do thinke it meet,
That you in Normandie should rigge some fleet,
And crosse the seas your father’s right to claime,
They all will be assistant in the same.

22.

Strike the hard steele, while yet the fire is in,
Slip not occasion put into your hand,
The tyrant _Harrold_ daily seekes to win
The peeres vnto his aid, who yet will stand
In your defence, and hazard life and land:
Then come with speed, for warre we will prepare,
The way is plaine, the time doth proffer faire.”

23.

This in effect their letters testifie,
Which did my forward thoughts so much excite,
That though my brother then in Hungarie
Were absent farre, yet to obtaine our right,
I tooke the seas with many a Norman knight:
But cursed be that voyage euermoe
Whose end did end my life with bitter woe.

24.

Woe worth the ground, where grew the towring mast,
Whose sailes did beare vs through the water’s rore,
Woe worth the winde, that blew the banefull blast,
Woe worth the waue, whose surge so swiftlie bore
My tragick barke to England’s fatall shore,
Woe worth the mast, the sailes, winde, waues and all,
That causelesse did conspire poore _Alfrede’s_ fall.

25.

Why were not they by cruell fates assign’d
To giue that due to death? which death did craue,
On ragged rockes, O why did I not finde
A milder death? why was the darksome waue
Vpon my way not made my bodie’s graue?
Ah why, why did they let my forward feete
Once touch the shore, such cruell death to meete?

26.

After our ships had brought vs to the shore
And giuen vs vp as captiues to the land,
At Guilford downe, a place so call’d of yore,
A fatall place to me, did _Godwin_ stand
To entertaine me and my Norman band,
Who with the shew of true fidelitie
Did maske the face of his false treacherie.

27.

He did imbrace me round with treason’s armes,
And fawnd vpon me with a villaine’s smile,
His lookes were blith to hide his purposde harmes,
His words, which graced were with sugred stile,
Made musike in mine eares, and to beguile
Suspition’s self a solemne vow he made
Against all aduerse power my part to aide.

28.

At Guilford he gaue counsell as a friend
To make abode with all my companie,
For there hee said my fauorites did intend
To meete me with their powers, who would applie
Their best indeuours ’gainst mine enemie:
In which being confident, with ioynt consent
Of all my friends, I vnto Guilford went.

29.

There did the chorus to proud Godwin’s play
First tell the sequele of my miserie,
There first appear’d the plot of my decay,
There the sad scene of my black tragedie
Was first begun by _Godwin’s_ treacherie,
And there my friends took hands in death and led
The tragick daunce, which I did after tred.

30.

When vnto Guilford with my troope I came,
_Godwin_ of purpose did augment our traine,
And for one place could not containe the same,
Lodging in diuers Ins he did ordaine,
Which might twice tenne or thirtie men containe,
Which he before with _Harrold_ did deuise,
The better to effect his enterprise.

31.

Plentie, the childe of peace, in euerie house
Did furnish out the tables with her store,
_Lyæus_ fruitfull cup with full carowse
Went round about, mirth stood at euerie doore,
The oliue branch deceitfull treason bore,
Vsing the voice of peace which sweet did sound,
To vs at feast that were, in solace drown’d.

32.

The greedie gorge repleat with plentious feast,
Besots the sense and duls the spritfull minde,
Th’infeebled braine with strength of wine opprest,
Losing all quick conceit, soone waxed blinde,
The depth of _Godwin’s_ plots we could not finde:
Deceit workes surest, where the wit before
Hath weakned been by plentie’s feastfull store.

33.

This fatall banquet, that did then forerun
The day that death put many soules to flight,
To soone did end, too soone the golden sunne
Fell to the ocean, and the dismall night
Came vp from seas to work my foule despight,
The woe which chearefull day before did hide
To end our cheare, the night too soone descride.

34.

When in my naked bed my limbes were laid
And I enchain’d in deepest sleepe did lie,
The rufull clamors of my friends betray’d
Did ring about mine eares: with whose sad crie
I rose from sleepe, and from my bed did flie:
But by the armed men and doores fast made,
My weapons gone, I knew I was betraid.

35.

Then did I looke, when death would at the doore
Come in, to sease my life with violent hand:
My chamber shooke, my hart gan tremble sore,
And as in horror I did silent stand,
Vp flew the doores, in rusht an armed band,
Who laid rude hands on me in spightfull hate,
Without respect vnto my princelie state.

36.

But when Aurora left her Tython’s bed,
And through each part of heau’n disperst her light,
My Norman friends fast bound in bands were led
To Guilford downe, to whom in dolefull plight
None gaue releefe, false _Godwin_ tooke delight
With sight of their sad death his eyes to feed:
Such sight would cause the hardest hart to bleed.

37.

By casting lots they were ordain’d for death:
Of ten, still nine did beare the bitter fate,
And in strange torture did expire their breath:
The tenth reseru’d did liue in wretched state
Of bondage, till the day of finall date:
And thus six hundred vnto death being done,
All faithfull friends did my sad fall forerun.

38.

My friends thus slain, through couert shades of night,
That none to my abode might priuie be,
Conuey’d I was to th’ile of Elie hight,
There to abide, till _Harrold_ did decree,
What kinde of death from thrall should set me free:
Where I with care consum’d for death did call
Vntill a fate far worse then death did fall.

39.

Then cause thy muse with me to mourne her fill,
And all yee nightlie birds, that do appeare,
As gastly signes, shrieke out your deadlie ill,
Let all that wofull is and voide of cheere,
That may augment my dole, to me draw neere,
And helpe me with their vncouth companie
To tune the song of my sad tragedie.

40.

Despoil’d by foes of all my princelie state,
And lockt in dungeon deepe from sight of heauen,
Sweete dame delight, with whom I liu’d of late,
Farre from my sad abode away was driuen,
And carefull sorrow for companion giuen:
The youthfull spring of my delight was done,
And winter’s state now in my youth begun.

41.

And with the winter of my woes begun
The frostie seasons winter bore apart,
Whose vnkinde cold did through my bodie run,
While gnawing hunger to increase my smart,
For want of foode did feed vpon my hart:
Thus I with cold and hunger long foreworne,
Did nought but mourning pine and pining mourne.

42.

My greene of youth with griefe’s sad sighes was blasted,
The sap of my life blood began decay,
My flesh through fast and euill fare was wasted,
My hart did faint, my strength did fleete awaie:
Ah God that death oft wisht so long did stay,
Why did not fates preuent my bloodie foes,
And with keene knife in death cut of my woes?

43.

My woes, alas, as yet were to begin:
For though my foes were priuie to my cries,
Yet could my rufull plaints no pitie winne,
To take from me at length they did deuise,
The last of all my comforts, both mine eyes:
Ah cruell foes, too cruell were ye bent,
Why could my death to you not yeeld content?

44.

When first the instruments of _Harrold’s_ ire
Did come prepar’d to rob me of my sight,
Hoping that death, which I did long desire,
Had then been sent to me, the last despight
That can be done to man in wretched plight:
These words I spake to moue remorse of mind,
While teares in plentie downe my cheeks declin’d.

45.

“Thrice happie men, if ye the tidings bring
Of happie death my dolefull daies to end,
From whose long houres my lasting death doth spring,
This last request to you I do commend,
That pitying my sad plaints, you may befriend
My wretched soule with quicke dispatch in death,
And not with torture, when I yeeld my breath.

46.

Behold this bodie pin’d away with woe,
This starued carkas in such rufull plight,
That who, alas, can poore prince _Alfred_ know,
These cheekes, whilome so full of fresh delight,
Now wexed pale and wan, are dri’d vp quite
For want of dew: yet dew’d with sad supplies
Of mournefull teares still flowing from mine eies.

47.

Yeeld then, O yeeld some comfort in this case,
And do not yee augment my deadly smart,
Ile hug sweet death, and with kind armes embrace
His grizly shape, and wooe him with his dart
To end my woes, by wounding my poore heart:
Only make ye dispatch when ye begin,
And heau’ns impute it not to you for sin.”

48.

This did I speake, supposing they were come,
With violent hands to make my life the prize
Of wished death: but by more grieuous doome,
I first adiudged was to lose mine eies:
For while that vnto heau’n with pitious cries
Vpon their crueltie I did complaine,
They reft me of my sight with bitter paine.

49.

Thenceforth, as caytife cast in dungeon deepe,
Where with fresh griefe my hart did hourely bleed,
As Philomel that spends her time of sleepe
In mournefull tunes recording his misdeed,
Whose lust in wastefull woods her shame did breede,
Night’s endlesse houres till death did end the same,
Against my foes I wasted in exclame.

50.

Famine, the childe of want did feast my soule,
And in my brest her hungrie arrow steepe,
The black night’s shreeking bird, the ghastlie oule
With balefull notes in waking woe did keepe
My greeued soule, when nature craued sleepe,
With whose shrill shreekes my plaints did beare a part,
And kept true time with sighes from sorrowing hart.

51.

Sorrow and griefe with waste of teares drawne drie,
Suppli’d the place where eyes did once remaine,
Whose want of teares my hart did still supplie
With drops of blood, fresh bleeding with the paine
Of wounding griefe which it did long sustaine,
Of which impatient to despaire being driuen,
Cursing my birth, I thus did crie to heauen.

52.

Woe worth the wombe, which nature did inforce
To bring me forth and leaue me in neglect:
Woe worth the starre, that did direct my course,
If anie starre the course of life direct:
Woe worth the houre, which did my birth detect:
Woe to you all, that did conspire with foes
To drowne my better dayes in bitter woes.

53.

Why do I liue? ah, why liue I the space,
Of half a day in this my mournefull mew?
Why doth grim death so often shew his face?
The woefull waste in me why doth he view
Of nature’s worke: and yet not craue his due?
Why do I liue, yet daylie die with paine?
Why do I die, yet daylie liue againe?

54.

To you therefore ye heau’ns, whose cheerefull face
With mortall eyes I neuer more shall see,
To you and all your powers I crie for grace:
Let me, ah let me now no longer be,
But by swift death from foes do set me free:
My dayes be ouer long, for death I crie,
End then my dayes (O God) and let me die.

55.

Wanting the salue of patience, wherewithall
To cure the sore of sorrow growne so rife
In my grieu’d hart, thus forc’d I was to call
For death to launch the wound with his sharpe knife,
Which griefe had festerd in my loathed life:
Who in his horrid shape himselfe did show
To me poore wretch, with too much paine and woe.

56.

For death at last with such vnkinde constraint
Did force my soule from th’house of her vnrest,
That neuer prince had cause of more complaint:
Nature’s vnkindest children will detest
My death’s vnkindnesse, and the flintest brest
Wil learne t’expire sad sighes with sorrow’s breath,
To heare me tell the manner of my death.

57.

From thence, where in grim darknesse I did dwell,
I forth was fetch’t, and by my foes that been
First stript I was, and then (O woe to tell)
My wombe was opened with a rasor keene,
With paine of which downe sinking, I did weene
That then my gasping ghost would haue expir’d
The breath of life, which I so oft desir’d.

58.

But after grieuous groane, when as my sprite
With feeling sense reuiued was againe,
My sterne tormentors, seeming to delite
In this their bloodie game, while I in vaine
Did beg dispatch of my tormenting paine,
With vnremorsefull hands againe began
T’inflict more woes on me most woefull man.

59.

At that smart wound, which in my wombe they made,
One of my intrailes ends they forth did take,
Which, out alas, (that ere it should be said
Of any prince) they fasten to a stake,
And with sharpe needles (yet my ghost doth quake
To thinke on it) my tender sides they wound
About the stake to make me go around.

60.