Chapter V: Part IV: By RICHARD NICCOLS, (3)

With painfull wounds they wound me in each part,
When still I stood to ease me of such woe,
Yet worse then painfull wounds increast my smart
As oft as I about the stake did go,
Then in this pitious plight, what should I do?
Death’s touch I felt: yet by my foes made blind,
The readie way to death I could not find.

61.

At length my soule vnable to withstand
Th’afflictions of my foes, in heart made stout
With torment of my wounds, I hand in hand
Went on with death that deadly stake about,
Vntill my bowels being winded out,
With death I fell, and in that fall did find
An end of woe, an end of griefe of mind.

62.

Men light of credence warned be by me,
To deeme no profer’d friendship firme and sure,
Till truth haue triall made, for flatterie
Makes fained loue the fittest cloake t’obscure
Falsehood from truth, which practise puts in vre,
Of which that henceforth I a Mirrour bee,
My storie told, I leaue it vnto thee.

THE TREACHEROVS

_Life and infamous Death of Godwin_,

Earle of Kent.

THE ARGUMENT.

“The banefull plot of Godwin’s treacherie,
And _Alfred’s_ rufull end,” quoth Memorie,
“With doubt may shake a weake belieuing mind,
Which to resolue, no better proofe I find
Then _Godwin’s_ selfe, who in his turne shall tell
After prince _Alfred’s_ death, what him befell,
How he in seruice of _Canute_ his king,
In forren warres himselfe in grace did bring,
How he in state did rise, with what increase
Of noble issue, heau’n his house did blesse,
His life produc’d to length of many yeares,
Foure kings he serues, in _Edward’s_ daies appeares
His treason t’_Alfred_, till that time conceal’d,
Which by the hand of heau’n is then reueal’d,
His oath, his periurie, bread stops his breath,
Heau’n plagues his issue for prince _Alfred’s_ death,
The truth of which, that we at large may heare,
Let fame’s trumpe cause his guiltie ghost t’appeare.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

_Godwin_ as guiltie tels th’ambitious ayme
Of his desire, first cause of all his shame.

1.

Faire fall the steps, that happily do end
Their course begun in vertue’s painfull race,
Many begin that steepie hill t’ascend,
Where vertue dwels; but few do find such grace
As not to faint, ere they attaine that place,
To tread the path of praise I first begunne,
But lost true praise, which I did weene t’haue wonne.

2.

Ambition tooke me by the haplesse hand,
And with delight led me another way,
Both blood and treason in my way did stand,
Which heau’n with vengeance failes not to repay,
Although reuenge of men escape they may:
Of which that I a Mirrour be, giue eare,
And in thy mind my fatall storie beare.

3.

I am that _Godwin_, sometimes earle of Kent,
Who with king _Harrold_ did conspire to shed
Prince _Alfred’s_ blood, which I too late repent:
For whereas I vpon the glorious bed
Of spotlesse honor, might haue laid my hed,
This one blacke deed of my false treacherie,
Doth brand my name with spot of infamie.

4.

If from that way, my steps had neuer strai’d,
Which in my youthfull daies I first did tread,
My famous acts, which now are all decai’d,
Had liu’d in lines of gold, and in the stead,
Of foule defame, with praise had crown’d my head:
But partiall fame lets passe our deeds of praise,
Our worser deed she keepes for future daies.

5.

When bold _Canutus_, that victorious king,
O’er Danes and English did in triumph raigne,
Desire did set my youthfull thoughts on wing
In pursuit of renowne, which to attaine,
From pleasure’s idle bed I did refraine:
Ease duls the sprite, each drop of fond delight
Allaies the thirst, which glorie doth excite.

6.

About this time we being secure of warre,
Fame by report did giue to vnderstand,
That the bold Vandale threatned to inferre,
Such strong inuasion both by seas and land
Vpon the Danes, that all the force of hand,
That they for warre could make, would scarce suffice
To giue repulse vnto their enemies.

7.

Which when _Canute_ did heare, his Danish force
He mustred vp, and I inspir’d by fame,
Troopt vp my Kentish friends, both foot and horse,
With whom deckt in braue armes and skill’d in frame
Of varied fight, vnto _Canute_ I came,
With whom to Denmarke I design’d did goe,
Conductor of the English ’gainst the foe.

8.

The seas we launcht, but long we had not wau’d,
Vpon the deepe, when all our ships did scatter,
Proud Nereus fom’d, the sea lookt blacke and rau’d,
The billowes rude rouz’d into hils of water,
Cuffe after cuffe the earth’s greene bankes did batter,
Which with their force our scattered nauie bore
In great distresse about the Norway shore.

9.

Tost to and fro, the storme at length ore-blowen,
We did arriue vpon the Danish coast,
Where, in the field the Vandale dreadlesse growen,
Their valours to auouch, did vaunt and boast
Of spoiles and captiues in their conquering host,
’Twixt whom and vs the fight had then begun,
Had night, to part the fray, not twixt vs run.

10.

The night, that giues each deathlesse creature rest,
In chaines of darknesse all the earth did bind,
And in our tents, each one as seem’d him best,
Did passe the time: but in my labouring mind
Nor rest, nor sleepe could entertainment find,
Care kept me waking, how I best might bring
My selfe in credit with _Canute_ the king.

11.

The time, I thought, did fit occasion yeeld,
The foes with fond neglect of vs at shore
Did sleepe secure, dispread about the field,
Their guard slight kept, their men were wearied sore
With hunting after spoile the day before,
Whom to _Canute_ vnknowne could we confound,
Our names I thought, would euer be renown’d.

12.

These thoughts, but newly borne in my great mind,
By secret messengers I did conuent,
The English chiefetaines all, whom I did find
In heart so well inclin’d, that all were bent
With readie hands to strengthen my intent,
And in each point their minds to mine did frame
For this affaire, all thirsting after fame.

13.

Our English quarter, which did vtmost lie,
We vndescri’d, drew forth, and on our way
With silence we did passe, the windes blew high,
And night her darksome wings did wide display,
Lest th’aduerse scout our purpose might bewray:
So forth we went, and gain’d with good euent,
The drowsie Vandale’s vtmost regiment.

14.

The outward watch, and courts of guard being slaine,
Through all their rankes by slaughter making way,
We did at length their fatall tents attaine,
In which, as in neglect they sleeping lay,
Without respect all went the common way,
That leads to death, as well the noble kind
As the ignoble, were in death confin’d.

15.

Then was th’alarum giuen, and euery where
The foes with fearefull shouts did pierce the skie,
Heere one affrighted silent stands, and there
Another dreading death doth mercie crie,
Heere one cries stand, another there bids flie:
In euery place death’s terrour did abound,
And all on heapes our foes we did confound.

16.

At length, troopt vp in haste the foes made head,
Twixt whom and vs ensu’d a deadly fight,
Grim death in darknesse hid, did bring more dread
With his approch, the foes, through sable night,
Their friends from foes could not discerne aright,
In which distresse vnable long to shield
Their campe from spoile, they fled and left the field.

17.

Darknesse suborn’d their flight, and did preuent
Our purpos’d pursuit for th’intended chase,
Their campe laid waste, we found in euery tent
Rich spoile and captiues, men of no meane place,
With more renowne our deed of worth to grace,
Of which _Canute_ our king did nothing know,
Vntill the morning’s light our deeds did show.

18.

For when in east Aurora did appeare,
_Canute_ intending to begin the fight,
When he of our supposed flight did heare,
In rage he vow’d reuenge for such despight,
And forth in furie marcht: but when in sight
The Vandale’s campe appear’d despoil’d with fire,
And all their host dispers’d, he gan admire.

19.

The Danes, in troopes all gathered, stood amaz’d
To see through what great dangers we had run,
Vpon the slaughtered Vandales wounds they gaz’d,
Vpon the captiues and the rich spoiles wonne,
Applauding all with praise, what we had done,
The king himselfe, in heaping praise on praise,
The worth of this our deed on high did raise.

20.

The good successe of this high conquest won,
My name in credit with the Dane did bring:
And to encrease this honor new begun
In th’horrid warre betwixt the Norway king
And prince _Canute_, of which the world did ring,
I by my deeds vpon the Norway coast,
Did saue _Canutus_ and his fainting host.

21.

When _Olauus_ and _Vlfe_ those brothers stout,
With their Norwegians in a dangerous fight,
Against _Canute_ successefully had fought,
I with my English souldiers in his sight
Regain’d againe, what he had lost by flight,
And forc’d proud _Olauus_ to flie the field,
Who to our king his crowne did after yeeld.

22.

Grac’d in all warre affaires without mischance,
With king _Canute_ in such great grace I came,
That he, my name and fortunes to aduance,
His sister gaue to me for wife, whose name
Hight _Thira_ faire, a ladie of great fame,
Whom I with earnest suite did often proue,
And in the end obtain’d her for my loue.

23.

Thus with auspitious lookes the heau’ns beheld,
The new borne infant of my towring state,
Which growing vp, with proud ambition swell’d,
Flattering it selfe with hope of happier fate,
Which to obtaine I long did lie in wait,
And left at length true honor’s path to tred,
To trace the footing which ambition led.

24.

When death did end _Canutus’_ life and raigne,
I standing in contention, t’whom the right
Of England’s vnswai’d empire should remaine,
_Canute’s_ base sonne, ambitious _Harrold_ hight,
Did step into the throne in my despight,
Being backt by diuers peeres, that sought to clime
By his support in this new change of time.

25.

’Gainst whom I stood with fained loyaltie
To those two princes, sonnes of _Egelred_,
The true borne heires to England’s emperie:
In which affaire, had fortune false not fled
And turn’d her backe, the crowne had grac’d my hed:
For had I gain’d the garland in their name,
Neither of them should haue enioy’d the same.

26.

But al-seeing heau’n, that did my drift perceiue,
To take effect would not permit the same,
Those strong built holds I was constrain’d to leaue,
In which defiance I did first proclame,
Against the bastard in prince _Alfred’s_ name:
Wherefore my oath I vnto _Harrold_ past,
To be true liegeman, while my life did last.

27.

Yet did not this my mounting thoughts beat downe,
Nor quell the pride of my aspiring mind,
My heart still aim’d at England’s royall crowne,
Aspiring hope did th’eies of reason blind,
To all impietie I was inclin’d,
Of which prince _Alfred_, whom would I had neuer
Betray’d to death, a Mirrour liues for euer.

28.

The maner of whose death I shame to tell,
Such was the cruell torment of the same,
And such the noble vertues, that did dwell
In th’heart of that sweet prince, whose liuing name
To all posteritie records my shame,
The more his vertues were, whose blood I spilt,
Remorselesse wretch, the greater was my guilt.

29.

Curst be the gracelesse heart’s vnswayed pride,
Which tempted me to act so foule a deed,
Why as at first did not faire vertue guide
My steps in path of praise? why in her steed,
All grace abolisht, did foule vice succeed?
With state and greatnesse, vertue seldome dwels,
State fosters pride, pride all good grace expels.

30.

After the murder of this guiltlesse man,
Long time I flourisht with prosperitie,
In slothfull _Harrold’s_ daies my house began
With many valiant sonnes to multiplie,
Who after came to great authoritie,
Of whom hereafter I intend to tell,
Hearken meane while what vnto me befell.

31.

Hearken ye glory-thirsting men, and heare
Iudgement of wreakful wrath powr’d downe by Ioue
On me, and on my house, that all may feare,
Aspiring honor’s height those plots to proue,
To which vaine pride the heart doth often moue,
Of which, both I, and all my progenie,
May Mirrours be to all posteritie.

32.

When _Harrold_ had, the tearme of three yeares space,
Vpon the English throne borne supreame sway,
He dying left a name of foule disgrace,
T’obtaine true fame, he neuer gaue th’assay,
His idle life in sloth did fleet away:
In houres of ease, who euer spends his daies
To future time, leaues seldome any praise.

33.

Vpon the throne, his brother did succeed
Prince _Hardiknute_, _Canutus’_ lawfull sonne,
Whom I did feare, lest for my bloodie deed
By his edict, I should to death be done,
Which I in lawfull triall could not shun,
To murdred _Alfred_ he was borne halfe brother,
Got by _Canute_ on _Emma_ his queene mother.

34.

Yet I being right expert in euery thing,
Which did pertaine to subtile policie,
Both tooke a solemne oth before the king,
That I from guilt of _Alfred’s_ blood was free,
With which his friends had often charged mee:
And also, that mine oth might fauour finde,
With golden gifts I did corrupt his minde.

35.

If that the powre of gold doe conquer kings,
Corrupts the noble, and deceaues the wise,
Subdues the valiant: yea, the brother brings
To sell his brother’s blood for golden prize,
Wherewith to glut his greedie auarice:
No maruell then, if that my gold did bring
This fained oth in credit with the king.

36.

Of _Hardiknute_ this fauour I did finde,
I liu’d in grace and great felicitie,
To me the rule of all things hee resign’d,
He onely kept his kinglie dignitie,
All things were swaid by my authoritie:
But after two yeares space, by suddaine death
In midst of mirth, he lost his vitall breath.

37.

Being at a feast vpon a solemne day,
At Lambeth house, within the bishop’s place,
With cup in hand his life did fleet away,
To ground he fell and did cold death imbrace,
Leauing few friends to waile his woefull case:
In loue of drinke he liu’d, in drinke he dide:
Such drunken death oft drunkards doe betide.

38.

Prince _Edward_, _Alfred’s_ brother, he being dead,
Was left the lawfull heire vnto the crowne,
Which I did claime as due from _Edgelred_,
And on his seeming foes I seem’d to frowne,
That sought with violent hands to pluck him downe:
For well I did perceaue, he being king,
To good effect my purpose I should bring.

39.

Zealous he was, and did so much delight
In sacred precepts of pure sanctitie,
That farre more fit he seem’d in all men’s sight,
To liue religious in a friarie,
Then sway the sceptor of a monarchie:
Yet seing the right did vnto him pertaine,
He was permitted ouer vs to reigne.

40.

Vpon whose minde more pliable to yeeld
To rule of others, then to rule alone,
The hope of future fortune I did build,
And after him, vnknowne to anie one,
I laid my plot to step into the throne:
For vnto him my daughter I did wed,
Twixt whom I knew would be a barren bed.

41.

Although the choycest eye could not select
A virgin with more sweets of beautie fild:
Yet for in hart he iustlie did suspect
His brother _Alfred’s_ blood by me was spild,
Her beautie with delight he nere beheld,
My dreaded power, which might haue dangerous beene
To his estate, was cause he made her queene.

42.

Whereby in future time my valiant sonne,
My _Harrold_ stout a title did pretend
Vnto the crowne, who by his valor wonne
High credit with the king, who in the end
So far to him his fauour did extend,
That after his decease, he did ordaine
The crowne and kingdome should to him remaine.

43.

Thus did I sit in top of fortune’s wheele,
Knit to the royall blood of England’s crowne,
Till death did strike, mischance I nere did feele,
Fortune at my successe did neuer frowne,
Who in the hight of pride pluckes manie downe:
Dreadlesse I liu’d, being dreaded still of all,
Fearing no lucklesse chance, that might befall.

44.

Beneath the sway of my securefull power
I from the king my guilt did long conceale
Of _Alfred’s_ death, vntill that fatall houre,
When fate appointed did my soule appeale,
And in my death my bloodie deed reueale:
Blood for due vengeance neuer calls in vaine,
Heau’n will reuenge, when we remisse remaine.

45.

Once sitting at the table with the king,
My son, whose office was the cup to beare,
By chance did stumble, as he did it bring,
And lightlie did himself againe vpreare,
At which by me these speeches spoken were:
“Ha, ha, my liege,” said I, “see how one brother
In time of need can well sustaine the other.”

46.

To which the king return’d this sterne replie
With browes contract, signes of his angrie minde,
“Most true it is,” said he, “and so should I
My louing brother _Alfred_ liuing finde
To helpe me now, but for thy self vnkinde.”
With which neere toucht: yet all distrust to shun,
Bread streight I took, and thus my oth begun.

47.

“This bread,” quoth I, “I neuer wish to take
Downe through this throat into my hollow chest,
But choaking me, God grant, that it may make
My death a scandall, to my soule vnblest,
Which heav’n henceforth for euer may detest,
If I your brother _Alfred_ did betray,
Or gaue consent to take his life away.”

48.

No sooner had I spoke, and taken bread,
But of the heauens, my wish I did obtaine,
Vnto the ground I instantlie fell dead,
While yet the bread did in my throate remaine,
Through which to passe, the breath did striue in vaine:
In death did heau’n detect my villanie,
In death did vengeance iustlie seise on mee.

49.

Which in my suddaine downefall tooke not end,
This dreadfull iudgement could not satisfie
The wrath of righteous Ioue, who did intend
The extirpation of my progenie,
In the reuenge of _Alfred’s_ tragedie,
With seu’n sonnes done to death, all valiant men,
My name did vade, as it had neuer ben.

50.

My eldest sonne, hight _Swaine_, in his rash moode
With rage incen’st, with his vnhappie hand,
Did beast-like spill his vncle _Byorn’s_ blood,
For which a pilgrim to the holie land
He was inioyn’d by churche’s strict command:
Where rouing Saracens vpon the way,
With murther did his vncle’s death repay.

51.

The next was _Harrold_, who in _Edward’s_ reigne,
After my death grew famous in this land,
Manie great victories he did obtaine
Against the Welsh, who with rebellious hand
Against the king themselues did proudlie band:
For which in name and fame he was renown’d,
And by the king with manie merits crown’d.

52.

But the third brother did thereat enuie,
_Tostie_ by name, a man of mickle pride,
Which when his brother _Harrold_ did espie,
His angrie hart did swell, and rage did guide
That reason, which doth man and beast diuide:
For on a time inrag’d with anger’s sting,
They fell at ods in presence of the king.

53.

Where _Harrold_ caught young _Tostie_ by the haire,
And with his fist did smite him on the face:
But by well-wishing friends they parted were:
Yet _Tostie_ in his minde for such disgrace,
Did vowe reuenge in more conuenient place,
And forthwith from the court with angrie looke,
To _Harrold’s_ house his readie way he tooke.

54.

Where when hee came, the seruants hee did finde
Preparing all things for the king’s repaire,
On whom he wreak’d the vengeance of his minde:
For not a man his wrathfull sword did spare,
In his reuenge they all alike did share:
Yet could not this his furie’s heat asswage,
Their limmes he hew’d in peeces in his rage.

55.

Which he amongst the hogsheads of pure wine,
Vessels of ale and cydar did bestow,
And in the lomes of meath, and tubs of brine,
And other sorts of liquor he did throw
Heads, legs, and armes, whence yet warme blood did flow:
Then sent he word, that at his brother’s house
The king should find good store of poudered sowce.

56.

For which offence, he was exilde the land,
And _Harrold_ after _Edward_ as his right
The crowne did claime, ’gainst whom no peere did stand:
Yet _Tostie_ did the Norway king excite,
In battaile gainst his brother for to fight,
In which by _Harrold_ vpon Stamford plaine,
Both _Tostie_ and the Norway king were slaine.

57.

Stout _Harrold_ in the field his death’s wound tooke,
With his two bretheren _Girth_ and _Leowin_,
At Battaile abbey ’gainst the Norman duke:
For in ist iudgement then did heau’n begin
To plague this land for my detested sinne,
Which from that time twice thirtie yeares and foure,
With Norman bondage was oppressed sore.

58.

Thus by decree of fate without remorse
By the keene sword fiue sonnes to death’s doome past,
The sixt in riding on a head-strong horse
Into the siluer Thames dark deepe was cast,
In which his soule the pangs of death did taste:
The seuenth and last was in close prison kept,
Vntill in death the conquering Norman slept.

59.

Yet heere heau’ns heauie iudgement did not end,
My wretched mother, though forworne and old,
Vntimely fell, who, while she liu’d, did send
Yong dames to Denmarke, where for gaine of gold,
Their virgin beauties vnto lust were sold,
For which offence, to all the world a wonder,
She stricken was from heau’n by horrid thunder.

60.

And that on earth, my shame might neuer die,
The sea’s proud waues haue ouerrun my lands,
Which did of yore by Sandwich hauen lie,
Where now bound vp in Neptune’s watrie bands,
They at this day are called _Godwin_ sands,
And since are made of pasture-springing-ground,
A dangerous gulfe the sea-man to confound.

61.

Thus for prince _Alfred’s_ blood, which I did shed,
Ioue in the tempest of his wrathfull mood,
Powr’d downe his wracke vpon my wretched hed:
Of all foule ils most aduerse vnto good,
Vengeance pursues the blushing sinne of blood,
Blood out of earth with cries importunes heau’n
To grant reuenge, vntill reuenge be giuen.

62.

Vnto a sinfull wight, though time do seeme
With wings of waste his shame away to wipe,
Although the king of heau’n secure he deeme:
Yet when his sore of sinne is waxen ripe,
Of his smart scourge he feeles the bitter stripe,
The truth whereof, that I may testifie,
Amongst thy Mirrours place my tragedie.

THE LIFE AND DEATH

_of Robert svrnamed Cvrthose_,

Duke of Normandie.

THE ARGUMENT.

“When Ioue,” said Memorie, “for Normans slaine
Through _Godwin’s_ treason vpon Guilford plaine,
From English birth his wreake would not reuoke,
But made it stoope to conquering _William’s_ yoke:
In that sad time, that noble prince I find
Most worthie of record, that Norman blind,
The stout duke _Robert_, who in th’hopefull spring
Of his greene youth, rebels against the king,
His hopes deluded sets his heart on fire,
He fights succesfully against his sire,
Is absent, when his father leaues to liue,
Who to his second sonne the crowne doth giue,
The duke returnes, finds _Rufus_ on the throne,
Both rise in armes, but gold doth make th’attone,
_Robert_ to Palestine with _Godfrey_ goes,
Wins fame in field against the Pagan foes,
Hearing of _Rufus’_ death, he thence returnes,
Finds _Henrie_ king, with indignation burnes,
Meets him in field to wreake it with his sword,
But peeres on either part make them accord,
After in peace they liue like brethren,
The duke’s kind nature wronged by the queene,
Againe he armes him to reuenge his wrong,
Fights with the king, whose part he finds too strong:
In fight is taken and to Cardiffe sent,
Where long captiu’d, in seeking to preuent
The fate of loathed thrall by secret flight,
He taken is, and is depriu’d of sight,
And after with long life in thrall opprest,
He pines away with hunger and vnrest,
Whose princely ghost let fame from graue vpraise
To make those deeds a Mirrour for our daies.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

The Norman prince tels fame, how he was borne
To be a king, yet dies a duke forlorne.

1.

In that great booke of Ioue’s decrees in heau’n,
Compiled ere time had any wings to moue,
The wofull wight, to whom blacke fate is giuen,
To cancell it in vaine doth after proue,
No change of time can change the will of Ioue,
What power so potent is, that can controle
The first decree that he did there inrole.

2.

Let fortune hold a crowne aboue thy head,
And at it with wit’s best direction aime,
Rise to it royally from honor’s bed,
Iustly deserue it for thy deeds of fame:
Yet shall thy carefull brow nere beare the same,
If thou in that star-text of euery thing
Foredoom’d for fate, be not inrol’d a king.

3.

Of which that thou a lasting Mirror haue,
Behold me heere a wretched prince of yore,
To whom true birth a crowne and kingdome gaue,
Whom vertue did inrich with all her store
Of goodly gifts, to make me fit therefore,
Of which depriu’d by destinie’s decree,
Woe and alas was only left to mee.

4.

Behold this feeble bodie pin’d away
With hunger’s waste, which once so stoutly bore
Our Sauiour’s badge in many a bold assay:
Behold the place where eyes haue stood before,
Now filled vp with blacke congealed gore:
Behold blind _Beauchampe_ duke of Normandie,
New crept from graue to tell his tragedie.

5.

A prince I was borne of the Norman blood,
To that victorious king the eldest sonne,
Who with his Normans, like a furious flood
From southerne seas did England ouerrun,
And to his heires the golden garland wonne,
Though heau’ns and fortune neuer would agree,
That of the same I should possessor bee.

6.

When fortune’s gentle hand had set the crowne
Vpon his happie head, when all assaies
Of his bold foes in field were beaten downe,
To me his eldest borne my state to raise,
The Norman dukedome with such long delaies
Assigned was, that I being set on fire
For such protract, turn’d rebell ’gainst my sire.

7.

Like lustie Phaeton, that gaue th’assay,
To guide the head-strong horses of the sunne,
Puft vp with pride to seeke his owne decay,
Gainst conquering _William_ his rebellious sonne,
T’aspire the dukedome violently begun,
And fier’d with heat of gaysome youth did venter,
With warlike troopes the Norman coast to enter.

8.

The false French _Philip_ dreading euery houre,
The towring state of my vnconquer’d sire,
Gaue life to my attempt, and sent a powre
Of tall strong men, as fuell for the fire
Of my ambition, lest I should retire,
And faint in pursuit of the warre begun,
Betwixt my sire and me his gracelesse sonne.

9.

As th’hungrie flame growen powerfull by degrees,
And flying on wings of winde throughout a wood,
With thirstie tongue lickes vp the leauie trees,
Or as the rising of some stormie flood:
So blinded with neglect of humane good,
My natiue Normandie I did inuade,
Making her soile the spoile of Mars his blade.

10.

To whose distresse the wrathfull conqueror came
Through sea’s rough waues, wilde furie was his guide,
Cursing my birth, ’gainst me he did exclame,
And in reuenge affection set aside,
He vow’d to scourge my most vnnaturall pride,
Setting his second birth yong _Rufus_ hight,
Before me in his loue, and in my right.

11.

At Archenbraie, both battels first did braue
Each other with proud proffer for the fight,
There th’ensignes with the wanton winde did waue,
The plume-deckt helmes with gold all horrid bright,
With pale reflection glitter’d in the light,
And 'bout both hosts in troopes the horsemen stood
Like loftie cedars in a thicke-set wood.

12.

When as the trumpe the banefull blast begunne,
In clamorous noise we clos’d on either side,
Brother ’gainst brother, father ’gainst the sonne
Themselues oppos’d, nature in fight defi’d
Euen nature’s selfe, the sun in heau’n did hide
His glorious head, denying vs his light,
As lothing to behold so strange a sight.

13.

The soules of mortall men were put to flight,
Blacke deeds of death each one did vndergo,
Need boldned cowards, hope gaue wings to might,
And made each one his best strength to bestow,
To purchase fame by downefall of his foe,
Death set on foot ran round about the field,
Whole troopes of men t’her conquering stroke did yeeld.

14.

In th’heate of fight, I caus’d a troope of horse
To breake vpon the rereward of the foe,
Who brauely gaue the charge, and with such force
Their fainting troopes in heapes did ouerthrow,
That they their rankes were forced to forgo,
Whom I well mounted on a tall strong steed,
To the maine battell did pursue with speed.

15.

Where vnder th’ensigne of his royall armes,
T’encounter with the king it was my chance,
Who bent with his owne hands, to wreake his harmes,
Did fiercely charge me with his well-aim’d lance,
’Gainst whom vnknowne my selfe I did aduance,
And in my winged course with staffe in rest,
I gaue the charge vpon his royall brest.

16.

But heau’n did calme false fortune’s threatfull brow,
And did auert the point of my sharpe speare:
Yet by his ribs the flesh it vp did plow,
And running through his arme made blood appeare,
The stubborne staffe the king to ground did beare,
Who falling from his horse in mind dismai’d,
Vnto his men aloud did call for aid.

17.

The voice descri’d my error, and with speed
I downe dismounting to my royall sire,
Did take him vp, and for my gracelesse deed
His pardon vpon my knee, I did require,
Pleading mistake t’appease his kingly ire,
Whom I remounted, and from field conuey’d,
Lest danger should his noble life inuade.

18.

Meane time the horse troopes, who by me design’d
Gaue charge vpon the flankers of the foe,
So beat the field about, that conquest shin’d
Vpon our helmes, slaughter and ouerthrow
On the aduerse part inforc’t such workes of woe,
That all by flight sought saftie, none durst stay,
_Rufus_ disgrac’d, and wounded went his way.

19.

Conquest in triumph on my brow did stand,
Fame did renowne my sword in euerie place,
Fortune with fame did ioyne her helping hand
With my displeased sire to winne me grace,
T’whom nature pleaded my vnhappie case,
And forc’t him yeeld (that both in loue might liue)
What reason would, and rage denide to giue.

20.

Restor’d to grace like Saturn’s god-like sonne,
To England I returned with the king,
Where _Malcome_ in his absence had orerun
The north from Tuuidale, where Tweed doth spring,
Vnto the Tine, whose streames such profit bring
Vnto that towne, which on her bankes doth stand,
Now call’d Newcastle built by my command.

21.

T’oppose the furie of th’inuading foe,
The king my late tri’de valor did imploy,
The Tine with wafting waues did seeme to woe
My swift accesse, to saue her from th’annoy
Of her proud foes, who daylie did destroy
The towres and townes, which did themselues enranke
About her streames, vpon the pleasant banke.

22.

Where with my troopes, when I appeard in sight
Beneath the kinglie lyon marching on
Towards Tuuidale, to seeke the foes for fight,
_Malcolme_ retirde beyond the Tweede, and none
In England’s bounds durst stay to looke vpon
Our angrie host, for peace the foemen su’d,
Which for the common good I did conclude.

23.

But leaue I now, to speake of blessed daies,
In which I liu’d true subiect to my king,
Leaue we a while to memorize the praise
Of my best deeds, thy muse againe must sing
My rebell pride, whence worse effects did spring,
Mischiefe now tracts each step, that I do tread,
Vnlookt for plagues falles downe vpon my head.

24.

Suppose thou seest me on the German coast,
Clad in rebellious armes against my sire,
Trooping vp men, to make a compleat host,
Waging th’vnwilling mind with golden hire,
And hope of spoile, to furnish my desire:
Bent once againe, vnto my sire vnknowne,
To claime the Norman dukedome, as mine owne.

25.

But ere my wicked sword I could vnsheath,
Vpon the bed of fraile mortalitie
Lies conquering _William_, in the armes of death,
T’whom enuious fame in his extremitie,
Brings tidings of his sonne’s impietie,
Debatefull enuie, finding once the thing
That breeds our shame, sets euill newes on wing.

26.

Could enuie find a darker cloud of shame,
Wherewith t’obscure the shine of my renowne?
Could fate for future woes more fitly frame
The houres of time, to cause the conqueror frowne,
Then when in death, he should dispose the crowne?
Enuie, fate, time and all things else agree,
To crosse that man, t’whom fortune crosse wil bee.

27.

The sickly king my sire, whose daies were done,
Thinking my course did threaten sure decay
To the rich trophie of his conquest wonne,
What nature gaue to me, did giue away,
To set the state vpon a surer stay:
For leauing life, he left by his decree
His crowne to _Rufus_, and his curse to mee.

28.

Tell me ambition, whence hadst thou that might,
To stirre vp nature in bold _Beauchamp’s_ brest
Gainst God, ’gainst king, ’gainst nature’s selfe to fight,
Enacting by my hand such deeds vnblest,
From the first motion of my mind’s vnrest?
From hope of rule, and empire’s blind desire,
Thou hadst that power to make me first aspire.

29.

Reason strooke blind euen from my youth’s first spring
With fond-bewitching hope in state to clime,
That hope made frustrate by the powerfull king,
Did but prefigure out for future time,
Th’vnfortunate effects of my foule crime,
The losse of crowne, the losse of all my right,
The losse of freedome and my bodie’s sight.

30.

Scarce had the hand of vnimpeached death,
Clos’d vp the eyes of England’s conquering king:
But fame, whose listning eares feeles euery breath
Of whispering rumour, set him selfe on wig,
And ouer seas to vs did tidings bring,
That our dread sire was to his graue gone downe,
And vnto _Rufus_ had bequeath’d his crowne.

31.

Heart-swolne with furie to reuenge such wrongs,
And claime the priuiledge then almost lost,
Which vnto birth by nature’s gift belongs,
Lest _Rufus_ pride in my disgrace might boast,
My quarrell strengthned with a mightie hoast,
I did arriue on England’s southerne shore,
Gainst whose white rocks the British billowes rore.

32.

The English peeres abhorring _Rufus_ pride,
In me expecting a more milde command,
Both by affection and by dutie tide
T’aduance my cause, each with his armed band,
Gainst _Rufus’_ powers in field did stoutly stand,
Whose wilder nature knowne in former daies,
Now many friends to my attempt did raise.

33.

Th’vnconquered Kentish in the English east
With that stout bishop _Odo_, first made head,
The actiue people, coasting on the west,
Marcht beneath _Mowbraie’s_ ensigne proudly spread,
The northerne rout the valiant _Bygod_ lead,
And the bold Britaines fauouring my right,
Were troopt by braue _Mountgomerie_ valiant knight.

34.

Th’vsurping king seeing such sterne stormes to frowne,
On the first spring of his ambitious raigne,
Fearing the fall of his new-borne renowne,
Sought by insinuating words to gaine,
What by the sword he could not now maintaine,
His golden gifts with many faire sweet words,
Did turne the edge of our reuengefull swords.

35.

He did not seeke t’vsurpe the crowne by might,
Such pride his loyall heart did nere inuade,
He knew my senior birth did claime that right,
He, we being absent, tooke in hand, he said,
In our behalfe the scepter then vnswai’d,
The which, since now, he did the same enioy,
He crau’d to hold of vs, as our vice-roy.

36.

His gifts still flowing from him in excesse,
Did giue full power to euery mouing word,
And that in me he might all doubts suppresse
Of fraudulent deceit, he did accord
That he of me, as of his supreame lord,
Should hold the crowne, and yearely I should claime
Three thousand markes, as tribute for the same.

37.

Fraternall loue so well her powers appli’d,
To end these iarres begun betwixt vs twaine,
That he constrain’d t’appease his wonted pride,
And I respecting glorie more then gaine,
Did reunite our selues in loue againe:
The frowne of Mars did bring his stomacke downe,
And golden gifts did calme our martiall frowne.

38.

Farre from the fruitfull Albion’s peacefull shoare,
For th’easterne world thy muse thou now must wing,
Who in her flight a loftie pitch must soare,
Of those stout pilgrims in high straine to sing,
Which th’holy hermit did to Salem bring,
Imploring aid of princes in the west,
Against the Pagan’s bloodie acts in th’east.

39.

I as a partner in that great affaire,
With my support that iourney to vphold,
My wants with store to furnish, did not spare
My Norman dukedome, which for summes of gold
Till my returne the king did morgag’d hold:
Gold doth men’s thoughts to high attempts prepare,
And ouergilds the danger of the warre.

40.

Hearken how fame vpon the Norman coast
With her shrill trumpe from kingdomes far away,
Summons vnto an head my warlike host,
Behold the sackfull troopes in braue array,
Beneath my ensignes for this bold assay,
Who martiall’d by my hand, with ample traine,
Do crowne the vtmost bankes of Belgike Seine.

41.

Behold the English famous for his bow,
Sharpning his angrie arrowes for the field,
The Scot with his long pike his cunning show,
The Britaine big-bon’d-bold, not borne to yeeld,
Addressing brauely both his sword and sheeld,
See how the Norman manageth his horse,
The Irish shakes his dart with manly force.

42.

As wak’d from sleepe, with christians wofull cries,
Bound by the Saracen in captiue bands,
And often blushing at the late surprise
Of those milke-hony-flowing holy lands,
Now made the spoile of Pagan’s conquering hands,
Hence did we march with heau’ns great king for guide
Into the east, to beate downe Pagan’s pride.

43.

Inglorious age, made drunke with dregs of peace,
Heere iustly may I taxe thy peacefull time,
Heere must our muse’s warlike song surcease,
A carping straine, a more inuectiue rime,
Doth best befit the nature of thy crime:
Looke backe at vs, mourne thine owne want of praise
And glorious deeds, to glorifie thy daies.

44.

Say glorie, say, hath peacefull follie furl’d
Thy flag of honor? li’st thou dead in graue,
With great _Heroes_ of the elder world,
Who led vs ouer Hellespontus waue
Beneath his badge, whose blood the world did saue?
Arise, arise, call forth the christian man,
Against the house of tyrant Ottoman.

45.

Hearke, how Thessalian woods records the cries
Of captiu’d Greekes vpon Penæus shore:
Behold how sacred Salem wasted lies:
See, see, how Sion mournes, where saints of yore
Did in sweet hymnes the king of heauen adore:
Behold that blessed land, the cursed seat
Where raignes th’Arabian Turkish Mahomet.

46.

O warlike nation, where is now that name,
Which th’English sword did graue on Acon’s wall,
Why do your valours sleepe, vp, vp for shame,
Let not your countrie’s ancient glorie fall:
Go, free poore christians from proud Pagan’s thrall,
Redeeme his sepulchre, who did redeeme
The world from death, with blood of such esteeme.

47.

Transport thou now thy muse to Bosphorus’ brim,
Ouer whose waues from Iuno iealous dame,
To Asian meades of yore did Io swim,
From whom transform’d the streame then tooke his name,
And since that time hath still retain’d the same,
Ouer whose waues as we did waft our host,
Much christian blood we ’gainst the Bulgar lost.

48.

Hence did we march to Hellespontus flood,
Where Helle, with yong Phrixus, put to flight
By stepdam’s rage, of which in feare they stood,
Flying, alas, and falling with affright,
Into the waue sunke downe in Phrixus’ sight:
Yet still to liue, in leauing her deare breath,
She left her name to Pontus at her death.

49.

The coast we tooke, where once Abydos stood,
Whence nak’d Leander, wafted by the light
Of Hero’s loue, so often swom the flood,
Till Helle rauisht with so sweet a sight,
Enuying Hero’s hap, in her despight
Into the deepe her deare Leander drew,
Where to his loue he sigh’d his last adew.

50.

There on the plaines, where Troye’s sad ruines stand,
Whence Agamemnon’s troopes haue often run,
To shun the furie of great Hector’s hand,
Against the Pagan many deeds were done
Beneath our standard of Ioue’s powerfull sonne,
There all the host, as towards Nice we past,
With spoilefull hands laid all the countrie wast.

51.

The noble citie Nice, so strongly wall’d,
We with our conquering host begirted round,
Her gates we wonne, her turret’s tops we scall’d,
Her towring walles we equall’d with the ground,
And all her pride did in the fire confound:
Amongst whose spoiles great Solyman’s faire make,
With her deare children we did captiue take.

52.

Then did stout Heraclêa stoope her pride
And seeing the Niceans yeeld, did yeeld with them,
From thence to Tarsus we our host did guide,
Fast by the bankes of Cydnus, whose sweet streame
Did seeme t’inuite vs to that stratageme,
Wafting vs, with slow waters sliding downe
From mountaine Taurus, vnto Tarsus towne.

53.

Where when we came with sp’rite infus’d from heauen,
We through the walles did force our dreadfull way,
The mightie towne into our hands was giuen,
The captiue foes in pitifull dismay,
With teares bemoan’d the imminent decay
Of their strong walles, which Perseus so renown’d
Had long before erected from the ground.

54.

Thence our triumphant standards we aduance
To Syria-ward with _Godfrey_ for our guide,
Where on the way, with seruice of my lance
In many a fight against the aduerse side,
I with fresh strength our fainting host suppli’d,
And forc’d the Pagan _Pyrrus_ from the field,
Who fled, and made faire Antioch wals his shield.

55.

Whom we pursu’d, and by the siluer streames
Of swift Orontes, where the king of light
Vpon our armes did cast his golden beames,
Our troopes did tracke the foe-men, turn’d to flight,
Till Antioch towers shot vp themselues in sight,
Whose pride we menac’d with victorious armes,
And shooke it in long siege with loud alarmes.

56.

Nine times the pale-fac’d queene of peacefull night,
Did lose that siluer lustre in her wane,
Which she receiu’d from Phœbus cheerefull sight,
And nine times did her brothers light againe
Renue that losse, which she did erst sustaine,
While Antioch walles our armie did enclose,
And stood in daily skirmish with the foes.

57.

In the ninth month, vpon the topfull brow
Of the towne-gate, the flag of truce did waue,
The captaine _Pyrrus_ haughtie heart did bow,
The citie stoopt her pride, and for to saue
Her selfe from spoile, her gates wide open gaue,
Whose wealth, as due reward of our long toile
To th’vniuersall host, was giuen for spoile.

58.

Should I assay to tell each conquest wonne,
Which at that time the christian host did crowne,
Or bring to light each high atchieuement done,
Before we could attaine that sacred towne,
Which God’s sonne’s sepulchre doth so renowne,
Our muse, though willing all at large to show,
Yet were too weake such taske to vndergo.

59.

See how the Persian fronts vs in the field,
Vnder the sway of whose huge horse-arm’d host,
The earth with bowing backe doth seeme to yeeld,
Whose troopes in number infinite doth boast
Our swift decay, ere we do crosse their coast,
Hemming vs round, in hope t’enrich their hands,
With noble conquest on our conquering bands,

60.

With shouts, and war-like instruments loud sound,
Hid all in clouds of smoake they toward vs came,
In fearefull fight vpon the groaning ground
Both hosts incounter’d, glorie did enflame
Both bent to fight, both greedie after fame,
Standerd ’gainst standerd stood, and band ’gainst band,
Troope clos’d with troope, men singl’d hand to hand.

61.

Corbona hight, a Persian farre renown’d,
Chargeth our host with all his troopes of horse,
Stiffe stands each regiment, no ranke giues ground,
Power beats backe power, and force repelleth force,
The foes repell’d doth often shift their course,
Oft charging and recharging euery ward,
Where they do find the rankes most vnprepar’d:

62.

Then thicke as haile from aire’s darke regiment,
When in blacke clouds a tempest raues in skie,
Steele-headed shafts from th’English bowes are sent,
Threatning the armed men as they do flie,
With singing slaughter, thicke prepar’d on high,
Who in their flight, though some fall short of wounds,
Yet some againe both men and horse confounds.

63.

Here th’angrie courser chaf’t with deadlie sting
Of wounding shaft, for verie paine and woe
Doth stampe, doth plunge, and vp from ground doth fling,
Doth snuffe, doth puffe, doth boggle, snore and blow,
Till from his back his rider he doth throw:
Then ranging through their host with sinewie shankes
He wounds his friends, disturbing all their rankes.

64.

There one with shaft infixed in his brest,
As the stalke stoopes his top orecharg’d with seed,
Hangs downe his head: another here opprest
With feare of death, forsakes his wounded steed,
Each place throughout the field our eyes did feed
With ruine of the foes dispred on ground,
Gasping for breath with many a bleeding wound.

65.

Greate Ioue the god of conquest, who from harme
Did garde our host in euerie such assay,
Did through the cloudes stretch out his mightie arme,
And on the foes did powre downe swift decay,
Slaughtering their men on heapes, few fled away:
Twice fiftie thousand dead in field did fall,
With stout _Corbona_ their cheife generall.

66.

Here could I tell the sack, which did decline
The pride of Salem, whose high walles withstood
Our fierce assaults twice fifteene dayes and nine,
How euerie street polluted with the blood
Of Pagans slaine, did seeme a crimson flood:
How Egypt’s Soldan did before vs fall,
Whom to these warrs, this towne distrest did call.

67.

But back to England we must turne our eye,
From whence, since first to Palestine I came,
Fiue times bright Pisces in the azure skie
Had in their yerelie course outrun the Ram,
Whose iust returne againe begins the same,
Where in our absence let vs view in state,
What changes haue ben wrought by time and fate.

68.

Our brother _Rufus_ with vnrighteous hand,
Swaying the scepter in the English throne,
Did so oppresse the people of his land,
That, when he left to liue, he then left none,
That would as friends his suddaine death bemone:
He in that forrest did death’s cup carowse,
Which fatall was vnto the conqueror’s house.

69.

A goodlie place, that forrest once had ben,
Where manie a towne and manie a temple stood,
Made sacred with the prayers of holie men,
All which without respect to common good,
My father did conuert into a wood,
Intitling it New Forrest, and for game,
Did after keepe wild beasts within the same.

70.

Which stir’d the stormefull wrath of heauen’s great king,
Who seeing his temples equald with the ground,
And where his priests sweet pæans once did sing,
And oft with thankfull prayers his altars crownd,
Hearing the crie of th’hunter and his hound,
Did in that place punish th’impietie
Vpon my sire, in his posteritie.

71.

His second sonne, my brother _Richard_ hight,
A hopefull youth, whom nature’s hand had sto’d
With sweetes of youth, as he, for his delight,
Did range this wood, was through the bodie gor’d
By sauage beasts, whose death my sire deplor’d
With bitter teares: yet could not quench the fire
Of Ioue’s fierce wrath, so moued was his ire.

72.

_Rufus_, his third borne sonne, in that same wood,
When he had strook an hart that fled his sight,
Was by another crost, where as he stood,
At whom one _Tirrill_ call’d, a Norman knight,
A shaft let flie, which in the lucklesse flight
Missing the deere, and glancing on the ground,
Vpon the brest the king to death did wound.

73.

He dead, yong _Henrie_ for his learning skill
Surnamed _Beauclerk_, did aspire the crowne,
And wonne the English peeres vnto his will:
Fortune once more vpon my state did frowne,
And from ambitious throne did keepe mee downe,
Mocking my hopes, denying mee command,
When she had put a scepter in my hand.

74.

After the conquest of Ierusalem,
The princes did amongst themselues accord,
To crowne my temples with the diademe,
That my abode might in distresse afford
Comfort t’all christians gainst the heathen sword:
But tidings of my brother _Rufus_ fall,
From Palestine to England me did call.

75.

That sword renownd with fall of Pagan foes
Now did brandish gainst my brother’s brest,
That sheeld, which did the Persian oft oppose
In skirmish in the field, was now addrest
Against my friends, to worke mine owne vnrest:
And all mine ensignes fam’d in forraine fight
At Winchester did waue in _Henrie’s_ sight.

76.

Where, close to swords in fight we would haue stood
Had not our friends foreseene the future harmes
Of our debate, who tending either’s good,
To calme the tempest of warre’s threatfull stormes,
First caus’d vs lay aside our angrie armes,
Then counsell’d _Henrie_ to such couenants yeeld
As _Rufus_ did, when he the state did weeld.

77.

As he, while he did liue, for England’s crowne,
Inioyned was by general states decree
Three thousand markes each yeare to pay me downe,
So _Henrie_, younger borne by birth, then he,
To like conditions thenceforth should agree,
To which we both consenting did depart,
One from the other seeming pleasde in hart.

78.

But hooded with the shew of outward loue,
Beguiling my simplicitie of mind,
He in the end a deadly foe did proue,
In my franke brest by nature too too kind,
A cunning way to catch me he did find:
Into the best minds pliable to good,
Deceit soone enters maskt in truth’s plaine hood.

79.

His queene, a woman sweetly tongu’d and faire,
By whom the king at his desire did aime,
With speech so affable did so insnare
My princely pliant thoughts, that in the same,
She could impresse, what forme she pleas’d to frame:
So free was I, that what her heart could craue,
As was my wont, with prodigue hand I gaue.

80.

The tribute due for England’s emperie,
At her request I freely gaue away,
Whereby my title and my dignitie
I lost, in that I could not then gain-say
A queene’s request, proud _Henrie_ had his prey:
A woman’s power to proue my power but vaine,
What I had done did soone vndoe againe.

81.

Wanting in after times necessitie,
Those golden sinewes of my dukedome’s state,
To strengthen my much weakned royaltie,
I gaue the king words of despitefull hate,
And for reuenge tooke armes: but froward fate
With clouds of shame did now eclipse the shine
Of all my conquests, won in Palestine.

82.

Ore the sea’s narrow brest from England’s coast
To Normandie my furious brother came,
Gainst whom, my cause being good with my small host,
Before the fort of Tenerchbray by name:
Though fewer farre, in battel’s bloodie frame
We did aduance, where though _Mortaigne_ and I
So stoutly fought, our folke the field did flie.

83.

Vpon that day, when fortie yeares before,
My sire to conquer England gaue th’assay,
In which he first set foot on England’s shore,
The king and I did meet in battell ray,
In which, alas, we Normans lost the day:
For on that day the Normans England won,
Was Normandie by English men orerun.

84.

Where, though false fortune turn’d her treacherous face,
And then began to worke our future woe,
Though dreadfull Pallas did denie vs grace,
And ’gainst our side her selfe in field did show,
Yet did we scorne, as scar’d, to flie the foe,
_Mortaigne_ and I ’gainst them alone did fight,
Till multitudes did ouermatch our might.

85.

Let Pallas cease to sing of armes oppos’d,
Sorrow must be the subiect of her song,
In stead of greaues with golden buttons clos’d,
In which she marcht amidst our martiall throng,
Now in sad straine, while we relate our wrong,
She in the sock the tragicke dance must lead,
Whose dolefull measures, we captiu’d do tread.

86.

Thy muse, that in warre’s bloodie hew was sent
To Palestine, must now in blacke be found,
Each word with heauie fall she must accent,
Each symphonie must yeeld a dolefull sound,
Each measure with a captiue band be bound,
And euery couple’s sad catastrophe,
Double the woes of our captiuitie.

87.

Now Normandie’s great duke in _Henrie’s_ hand
Vpon the rouling billowes running high,
Is carried captiue from his natiue land,
To which oft turning backe his heauie eie,
It seemes a farre to follow him and crie,
“Adew, deare lord, adew, who neuer more
With one step’s touch shall grace my sandie shore.”

88.