Chapter VII: Appendix (5)

TRANSLATION.--I am driven to sing, my heart wills it, in
sorrowful language,--all with tears was made the song concerning
our gentle barons,--who for the peace so long after suffered
themselves to be destroyed,--their bodies to be cut and
dismembered, to save England.--Now is slain the precious flower,
who knew so much of war, the Earl Montfort, his hard death the
land will deeply lament.

As I believe, it was on a Tuesday, that they fought the
battle,--all on horse, which was the misfortune, without any
foot,--very ill they there struck with the burnished sword,--that
the party of Sir Edward gained the mastery. Now is slain, etc.

But by his death the Earl Montfort gained the victory,--like the
martyr of Canterbury he finished his life;--the good Thomas would
not suffer holy Church to perish,--the Earl fought in a similar
cause, and died without flinching.--Now is slain, &c.

Sir Hugh the bold, the Despencer, a very noble justice,--is
now wrongfully delivered to death, in too shameful a
manner.--Sir Henry, in truth I say it, the son of the Earl of
Leicester,--enough of others, as you will hear, by the Earl of
Gloucester.--Now is slain, etc.

Because they were willing to die, and to maintain peace and
right,--the holy martyr will cause them to enjoy his pure
conscience,--who is willing to die and to sustain the men of
the land,--to accomplish his good desire, for we think he does
well.--Now is, etc.

Near his body, the good treasure, an heir they found,--the false
ribalds, they were so wicked, and those who slew him;--what was
much worse, they caused the worthy man to be dismembered,--who
knew so well the art of fighting and of holding faith.--Now is,
etc.

Pray all, my sweet friends, to the Son of St. Mary,--that he lead
in good life the infant, the powerful heir;--I will not name the
scholar, I do not desire any one to mention him,--but for the
love of the Saviour, pray for the clergy.--Now is slain, etc.

I cannot find any thing that they did well, neither baron nor
earl,--the knights and the esquires are all disgraced,--on
account of their loyalty and truth, which is entirely
annihilated;--the deceitful man may reign, the fool for his
folly.--Now is slain, etc.

Sir Simon, the worthy man, and his company,--are gone in joy up
to heaven, in everlasting life.--But Jesus Christ, who placed
himself on the cross, and God have care of those,--who are
remitted, and detained in hard prison.--Now is slain, etc.

REIGN OF EDWARD I. 1272-1307.

Henry outlived the defeat of the barons but a very few years. He died on the sixteenth of November, 1272, while his son Edward was occupied in warring against the infidels in the East. Edward was proclaimed king, while absent. A new monarch is generally welcomed with songs of praise; and the following, evidently the work of a zealous opponent of the popular party, seems to have been written before his arrival in England.

THE PRAISE OF THE YOUNG EDWARD.

[MS. Cotton. Vespas. B. XIII. fol. 130 v^o, 13th cent.]

Eaduuardi regis Anglorum me pepulere
Florida gesta loqui, pudor est famosa tacere.
Hic tener ætate dum vixerat in juvenili,
Conflictus plures superavit corde virili.
Belliger ut pardus, fragrans dulcedine nardus,
Dum viget Eaduuardus, rutilat novus ecce Ricardus.
Sic gemino flore Britones titulantur honore,
Bella per Eaduuardi similis et probitate Ricardi.
Belligeri juvenis laudabat Gallia mores;
Ampla manus dantis meritos congessit honores.
Invida gens cupiens meritas extinguere laudes,
Excogitando novas cœpit contexere fraudes:
Anglorum proceres legem fingendo novellam,
Ubere de regno terram fecere misellam.
Rex pater et patruus cum bina prole reguntur
Per sibi subjectos, ex quo mala multa sequuntur.
Degener Anglorum gens, quæ servire solebat,
Ordine mutato regem cum prole regebat.
Conjurat populus fruiturus lege novella;
Fædere mox rupto consurgunt horrida bella.
Dum Leycestrensem comitem sibi plebs sociavit,
Intestina sibi dispendia concumulavit.
In regem proprium gens irruit impia, natum
Cum patre et patruo captivat, mox dominatum
Consequitur, gaudent victores, corda tumescunt.
Effugit Eaduardus, statim nova prælia crescunt.
Convocat auxilium, solidantur fædera, crevit
Turma ducis, delusa cohors sua crimina flevit.
Concurrunt partes, quatiuntur tela, vigore
/Militis Eaduuardi madidantur rura cruore.
Occidit ense Comes, proceres mucrone necantur;
Sic vincunt victi, victores exsuperantur.
Regno pene suo spoliatus seditione,
Victrices turmas miro superavit agone.
Ad regimen regni patrem stirps clara revexit,
Nequiter ablatum quod longo tempore rexit.
Plebs devicta fremit, iterumque potentibus unit
Turmas belligeras, dape, telis, oppida munit.
Insula per proceres vastatur mox Eliensis.
Urbs regni nostri capitanea Londoniensis
Per quosdam capitur, quatitur certamine diro;
Sed debellantur hæc omnia robore miro.
Pax optata redit, conduntur tela, nitescunt
Nubila quæ fuerant, Anglorum gaudia crescunt.
Impiger Eaduuardus devitans otia, signum
Mox crucis assumpsit, cupiens exsolvere dignum
Obsequium Christo, qui se liberavit ab isto
Turbine bellorum; sequitur pia turba virorum.
Francorum regis germanus rex Siculorum
Innumeros populos ad regnum Tuniciorum
Duxerat, ut vetitum potuit rehabere tributum,
Agminibus cunctis dicens iter hoc fore tutum
In terram sanctam; cruce plebs signata dolebat,
Dum sua vota male jam commutata videbat.
Eaduuardus sequitur credens bellare potenter
Cum Sarracenis; gentilis rex sapienter
Prælia devitans, solvit quodcunque petebat.
Rex Lodowicus obit cum prima prole, dolebat
Gallia, rex Karolus remeat, turmasque reduxit,
Anglos cum Siculis, Britonum plebs anxia luxit.
Vota crucis Christi Siculorum rex male frangit,
Et sua delusus populus discrimina plangit.
Applicat in portu Trapennæ, mox borialis
Turbo quatit puppes, populus perit innumeralis,
Mergitur æs totum, salvatur et Anglica classis
Munere divino, quod non periit valor assis.
Rex prodire negat, renuens sua solvere vota.
Dux pius Anglorum similis et sua concio tota
Puppes ascendit, mare transmeat, ad loca tendit
Gentibus obsessa, longævo turbine pressa.
Accon respirat de tanto milite gaudens,
Atque sepulta diu psallit nova cantica plaudens.
Soldanus fremuit, procerem cogitando necare,
Quem per carnificem dirum fecit jugulare.
Hic assessinus Veteris de Monte ferebat
Nuncia conficta, quæ falso conficiebat;
Ingreditur thalamos præludens hostia, cultro
Vulnera vulneribus impressit; strenuus ultro
Restitit Eaduuardus, tortorem robore stravit,
Quem telo proprio condigna morte necavit.
Et quia condignum Christus famulum sibi novit,
Illius plagas sacro medicamine fovit.

_Expliciunt versus secundum Thomam de Wyta compositi de domino Eadwardo Angliæ rege illustrissimo._

TRANSLATION.--The flourishing deeds of Edward King of the English
oblige me to talk, for it is shameful to let pass famous actions
in silence. He, while yet in his tender youth, went through many
conflicts with a manly heart. Warlike as a pard, fragrant with
sweetness like spikenard, whilst Edward is in his vigour, behold
he shines like a new Richard. Thus the Britons have a double
claim to honour, by the wars of Edward equally and by the valour
of Richard. France praised the manners of the warlike youth; the
ample hand of the giver amassed merited honours. The envious
people desiring to extinguish his merited praise, began to weave
new plots in their mind: the English nobles, by inventing a new
law, made a wretched land of a rich kingdom. The king his father,
and his uncle, with their two children, are governed by their
subjects, out of which many evils follow. The degenerate race of
the English, which used to serve, inverting the order of things,
ruled over the king and his children. The people conspires, in
order to enjoy a new law; soon after, the league being broken,
horrid wars arise. While the populace associated with itself the
Earl of Leicester, it accumulated for itself internal exhaustion.
The impious people attacks its own king, makes captive the son
with his father and uncle, next seizes upon the government;
the victors rejoice, their hearts swell. Edward escapes, and
immediately new battles follow. He calls together assistance,
leagues are established, the army of the leader increased, the
deluded troop laments its crimes. The parties meet; weapons are
clashed; the fields are moistened with blood by the vigour of
the soldier Edward. The Earl is slain by the sword; the barons
are put to death with the weapon’s point; thus the vanquished
conquer, and the conquerors are overcome. Although by sedition
almost robbed of his own kingdom, he overcame the conquering
legions by a wonderful effort. The noble offspring carried back
his father to the government of the kingdom, wickedly wrested
from him, which he had long ruled. The conquered populace roars,
and again joins its warlike squadrons to the barons; fortifies
towns with provisions and weapons. Soon after the isle of Ely
is ravaged by the popular leaders. London, the capital city of
our kingdom, is occupied by some, and is shaken with fearful
strife; but all these difficulties are conquered with wonderful
strength. Peace, wished for, returns; the arms are laid by;
clouds have given place to sunshine; the joys of the English
increase. The active Edward, flying from idleness, next took up
the sign of the cross, desirous of performing a worthy service
to Christ, who had delivered him from this whirlwind of wars;
a pious troop of men follows. The King of Sicily, brother of
the King of France, had conducted a vast host to the kingdom of
Tunis, that he might recover the tribute which had been refused,
saying that this would be a safe way for the whole army to the
Holy Land; the people which was signed with the cross lamented to
see its object thus unpropitiously changed. Edward follows in the
belief that there will be powerful fighting with the Saracens;
but the Gentile King wisely avoiding battle, paid whatever he
asked. King Louis dies with his eldest son; France lamented;
King Charles returns, and brings back the troops, the English
with the Sicilians; the anxious Britons wept. The King of Sicily
wickedly broke his vow of crusading, and the people, deceived,
lamented his changing. He arrives at the port of Trapeni; soon
a whirlwind from the north strikes the fleet; multitudes of
people perish; all the money is sunk; but the English fleet is
providentially saved, without losing the value of a farthing.
The king refuses to proceed, or to perform his vow. The pious
leader of the English and all his company alike embark, pass the
sea, and make for the places which were besieged by the Gentiles,
pressed under a long lasting storm. Acre takes breath, rejoicing
in such a soldier, and rises as it were from the grave to sing
new songs of praise. The Soldan was enraged, and thought to slay
the noble leader, whom he caused to be stabbed by a detestable
butcher. This assassin brought pretended messages from the Old
Man of the Mountain, which were but false pretences; he enters
the chamber and shuts the door; with a knife he adds wound upon
wound; but Edward, on the other hand, resisted strenuously; with
his strength he laid prostrate the murderer, whom he slew with a
merited death by his own weapon. And because Christ knew that his
servant was worthy, he healed his wounds with a sacred medicine.

* * * * *

Popular dissatisfaction may be traced throughout Edward’s reign, we may venture to say from the day in which he mounted the throne. The following song seems to have been popular soon after his accession; and it is written in Latin and Anglo-Norman, in order that it might be sung more generally. In the manuscript, each stanza of the Latin is followed by the corresponding stanza in Anglo-Norman. Between the Latin lines of the first stanza is left space apparently for music.

A SONG ON THE TIMES.

[From MS. Harl. 746, fol. 103 v^o, of the beginning of the reign of Edw. I.]

Vulneratur karitas, amor ægrotatur:
Regnat et perfidia, livor generatur.
Fraus primatum optinet, pax subpeditatur;
Fides vincta carcere nimis desolatur.

In præsenti tempore non valet scriptura;
Sed sopita veluti latent legis jura,

Amur gist en maladie, charité est nafré;
Ore regne tricherie, hayne est engendré.
Boidie ad seignurie, pes est mise suz pé;
Fei n’ad ki lui guie, en prisun est lié.

Ne lerray ke ne vus die, ne vaut ore escripture;
Mès cum fust endormie e tapist dreiture,

Et nephandi generis excæcata cura
Nullo sensu prævio formidat futura.

Resistentes subruunt iniquitatis nati;
Perit pax ecclesiæ, regnant et elati.
Hoc silendo sustinent improbi prælati,
Mortem pro justitia recusantes pati.

Strata pace penitus, amor refrigescit;
Tota tellus Angliæ mærore madescit,
Omnisque dilectio dulcis evanescit:
Cuncti consolatium quærunt quo quiescit.

De la gent haye avugle est la cure,
Ke el ne dute mie venjance à venir dure.

Les contre-estanz abatent li fiz de felonie;
Lors perit seinte eglise, quant orgoil la mestrie.
Ceo sustenent li prelaz ki s’i ne peinent mie,
Pur dreiture sustenir nolent perdre vie.

Pes est acravanté e amur refreidie;
La terre est desconforté e de plur enmoistie,
Amur et amisté tut est anentie:
N’i ad nul ki ne quert confort et aye.

Patre carent parvuli pupilli plangentes,
Atque matre orphani fame jam deflentes;
Qui in primis penitus fuerunt potentes,
Nunc subcumbunt gladio, plorant et parentes.

Ecce pravi pueri pauperes prædantur;
Ecce donis divites dolose ditantur;
Omnes pene proceres mala machinantur;
Insani satellites livore lætantur.

Ecce viri confluunt undique raptores;
Ecce pacis pereunt legisque latores;

Asez i ad des orphanins grant doel demenanz,
Ke lur parenz sunt mis à fins, dunt il en sunt dolenz,
Cil ki en comencent furent mult pussanz,
Sunt suzmis à le espeye, e plorent li parenz.

Li enfanz felons s’en vunt la povere gent preer;
Li riches à tort enrichiz sunt de autri aver;
A peine i ad haute home ki cesse mal penser;
De hayne sunt haitez li felons esquier.

De tote parz venent li bers ravisanz;
Ore perissent de pes e de la ley li sustenanz;

Dogmata despiciunt truces hii tortores,
Et prodesse nequeunt sancti confessores.

Hii converti respuunt virtute sermonum,
Neque curam capiunt de vita vironum;
Omnes simul rapiunt, ut mos est prædonum.
Hiis vindictam ingere, Deus ultionum!

Enseignement refusent ces cruels tormentanz,
Espleyt ne poent fere cil ki vunt prechanz.

Si il se ne volent amender pur dit ne pur fesance,
Mès pur tuer quant ont poer ben ont la voillance;
Trestuz en funt ravine, de Deu n’en ont dotance.
Cels metez à declin, sire Deu de venjance!

TRANSLATION.--Charity is wounded, love is sick; perfidy reigns,
and malice is engendered. The fraud of the rulers prevails,
peace is trodden under foot; faith fettered in prison is very
desolate.--At present, a writing is of no use; but right and
law lie as it were asleep, and the care of the wicked race is
blind, it has not sufficient foresight to fear the future.--The
sons of iniquity crush those who resist; the peace of the church
perishes, and the proud reign. The wicked prelates support this
state of things by their supineness, for they refuse to suffer
death for justice.--Peace being altogether overthrown, love is
cooled; all the land of England is moist with weeping, and all
friendship and kindness has disappeared; all seek consolation
and quiet.--The little orphans lament the loss of their father,
and, deprived of their mother, they sorrow in the midst of
hunger; they who at first were very powerful, now fall by the
sword, and their parents weep.--Lo! wicked children rob the
poor; lo! the wealth of the rich is increased by exacting gifts;
almost all the nobles spend their time in contriving evil; the
mad esquires delight in malice.--Lo! the rapacious men appear
on every side; lo! the supporters of peace and justice perish;
these cruel butchers despise doctrine, and the holy preachers
have no effect.--These men will not be amended by the force of
sermons; nor do they make any account of the lives of men; they
all plunder together, like robbers. Take vengeance upon them, O
God of vengeance.

* * * * *

One of the legacies which St. Louis left to Christendom was the number of new orders of monks which had been created during his reign and by his encouragement. They soon spread from France into England; but they were very far from being popular in either country, and were the constant butt of the gibes and jokes of the poets. The following is a bitter satire upon the different orders of monks in England in the reign of Edward I. The idea of caricaturing them by feigning one order which should unite the different characteristic vices of all the others, was not new.

THE ORDER OF FAIR-EASE.

[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 121 r^o. Reign of Ed. II.]

Qui vodra à moi entendre,
Oyr purra e aprendre
L’estoyre de un Ordre novel,
Qe mout est delitous e bel:
Je le vus dirroi come l’ay apris
Des freres de mon pays.
L’Ordre est si foundé à droit,
Qe de tous ordres un point estroit,
N’i ad ordre en cest mound
Dont si n’i ad ascun point. 10
Le noun de l’Ordre vus vueil dyre,
Qe um ne me pust blamer de lire;
Qy oyr velt si se teyse,
C’est le Ordre de Bel-Eyse.
De l’Ordre vus dirroi la sonme;
Quar en l’Ordre est meint prodhonme,
E meinte bele e bone dame.
En cel Ordre sunt sanz blame
Esquiers, vadletz, e serjauntz;
Mès à ribaldz e à pesauntz 20
Est l’Ordre del tot defendu,
Qe jà nul ne soit rescu.
Quar il frount à l’Ordre hounte.
Quant rybaud ou vyleyn mounte
En hautesse ou baylie,
Là oû il puet aver mestrie,
N’i ad plus de mesure en eux
Qe al le luop qe devoure aigneux.
De cele gent lerroi ataunt,
E de le Ordre dirroi avaunt. 30
En cel Ordre dount je vus dy,
Est primes issi estably,
Que ceux qe à l’Ordre serrount,
De Sympringham averount
Un point, qe bien pleysant serra,
Come l’abbeie de Sympringham a,
Freres e sueres ensemble;
C’est bon Ordre, come me semble.
Mès de tant ert changié, pur veyr,
Q’à Sympringham doit aver 40
Entre les freres e les sorours,
Qe desplest à plusours,
Fossés e murs de haute teyse;
Mès en cet Ordre de Bel-Eyse
Ne doit fossé ne mur aver,
Ne nul autre destourber,
Qe les freres à lur pleysyr
Ne pussent à lor sueres venyr,
E qu’il n’eit point de chalaunge.
Jà n’i avera ne lyn ne launge 50
Entre eux, e si le peil y a,
Jà pur ce ne remeindra.
De yleoque est ensi purveu,
Qe cil q’à l’Ordre serrount rendu,
De l’abbé deyvent bien estre:
E ce comaund nostre mestre,
Pur bien manger e à talent
Treis foiz le jour, e plus sovent.
E s’il le font pur compagnye,
Le Ordre pur ce ne remeindra mie. 60
De Beverleye ont un point treit,
Qe serra tenu bien e dreit,
Pur beyvre bien à mangier,
E pus après desqu’à soper;
E après al collacioun,
Deit chescun aver un copoun
De chandelle long desqu’al coute,
E tant come remeindra goute
De la chandeille à arder
Deivent les freres à beyvre ser. 70
Un point unt tret de Hospitlers,
Qe sunt mult corteis chevalers,
E ount robes bien avenauntz,
Longes desqu’al pié traynantz,
Soudlers e chausés bien séantz,
E gros palefrois bien amblantz;
Si deyvent en nostre Ordre aver
Les freres e sueres, pur veyr.
De Chanoynes ont un point pris,
Qu’en l’Ordre ert bien assis; 80
Quar chanoygnes pur grant peyne
Mangent en la symeygne
Char en le refreitour treis jours;
Auxi deyvent nos sorours
E nos freres chescun jour
Char mangier en refreitour,
Fors le vendredi soulement,
E le samadi ensement.
E si issint avenist
Q’al samadi hoste fust, 90
E l’em ne ust plenté de pesshon,
L’estor qe fust en la mesoun
Purreint il par congié prendre,
Jà l’Ordre ne serra le meindre.
Un point ont tret de Moyne Neirs,
Que volenters beyvent, pur veyrs,
E sount cheschun jour yvre,
Quar ne sevent autre vivre;
Mès il le fount pur compagnie,
E ne mie pur glotonie. 100
Auxi est il purveu
Que chescun frere soit enbu,
De jour en jour tot adès
Devant manger e après.
E si il avenist ensi
Qe à frere venist amy,
Dount se deyvent ensorter
Pur les freres solacer,
Qui savera bien juer le seyr;
Ce vus di-je de veir, 110
Yl dormira grant matinée,
Desque la male fumée
Seit de la teste issue,
Pur grant peril de la vewe.
Des Chanoygnes Seculers,
Qe dames servent volenters,
Ont nos mestres un point treit,
E vueillent qe cel point seit
Bien tenuz e bien uséez;
Quar c’est le point, bien sachez, 120
Que pluz ad en l’Ordre mester,
Pur les freres solacer.
Si est, sur eschumygement,
Comaundé molt estroitement,
Que chescun frere à sa sorour
Deit fere le giw d’amour
Devant matines adescement,
E après matines ensement;
E s’il le fet avant son departyr
Troiz foiz à soun pleysyr, 130
Jà le frere blame ne avera,
Ne le Ordre enpeyré serra.
Gris Moignes sunt dure gent,
E de lur ordre nequedent
Vueillent nos mestres pur grever
L’Ordre un des lur poyntz aver;
E si n’est geres corteis,--
Quar à matines vont sanz breys.
Auxi deyvent nos freres fere,
Pur estre prest à lur affere. 140
E quant il fount nul oreysoun,
Si deyvent estre à genulloun,
Pur aver greindre devocioun
A fere lur executioun.
E ou un seyn sonnent santz plus,
C’est lur ordre e lur us:--
Mès nos freres pur doubler,
Ou deus seynz deyvent soner.
De taunt est nostre Ordre dyvers,
Qe no sueres deyvent envers 150
Gysyr e orer countre-mount,
Par grant devocioun le fount.
Issi pernent en pacience,
C’est point de l’Ordre de Cilence;
Chaichons est bon ordre, sanz faile,
N’est nul des autres qe taunt vayle;--
Pur ce vueillent ascun point trere
De cel ordre à nostre affere.
Chescun est en sa celle enclos,
Pur estre soul en repos; 160
Auxi deyvent nos freres estre,
Si doit chescun à sa fenestre
Del herber aver pur solas,
E sa suere entre ces bras,
E estre enclos privément,
Pur survenue de la gent.
Ne devomz pas entreoublier,
Si nostre ordre deit durer,
Les Frere Menours à nul suer,
Qe Dieu servent de bon cuer; 170
Si devomz ascun point aver
De lur ordre, pur mieux valer.
Lur ordre est fondé en poverte,
Pur quei yl vont la voie apierte
En ciel tot plenerement;
Si vus dirroi bien coment
Yl querent poverte tot dis;
Quaunt il vont par le pays,
Al chief baroun ou chivaler
Se lerrount il herberger, 180
Ou à chief persone ou prestre,
Là ou il purrount acese estre;
Mès par Seint Piere de Ronme,
Ne se herbigerount ou povre honme,--
Taunt come plus riches serrount,
Ostiel plustost demanderount.
Ne ne deyvent nos freres fere
Ostiel, ne autre lyu quere,
Fors là ou il sevent plenté,
E là deyvent en charité 190
Char mangier e ce qu’il ount,
Auxi come les Menours fount.
Pus qe avomz des menours,
Auxi averomz des Prechours;
Ne vont come les autres nuyz péez
Eynz vont precher tot chaucéez,
E s’il avient ascune feez
Qu’il seient malades as piés,
Yl purrount, s’il ount talent,
Chevalcher tot plenerement 200
Tote la jornée entière.
Mès tot en autre manere
Deyvent nos freres fere,
Quant il prechent par la terre;
Car il deyvent tot adès
Tot dis chevalcher loinz e près:
E quant il fount nul sermoun,
Si deyvent estre dedenz mesoun.
E tote foiz après manger
Deyvent il de dreit precher; 210
Quar meint honme est de tiele manere,
Qu’il ad le cuer pluz dur qe piere,
Mès quant il avera ankes bu
Tost avera le Ordre entendu,
E les cuers serront enmoistez,
De plus leger serrount oyez,
Qe à l’Ordre se rendrount
Quant le sermon oy averont.
Ensi est nostre ordre foundé,
E si ount nos freres en pensée, 220
Qe chescun counté doit aver
Un abbé, qe eit poer
A receyvre sueres e freres,
E fere e tenyr ordres pleneres,
E qe les pointz seient tenuz
Qe nos mestres ount purveuz.
Un provyncial en la terre
Doit aler e enquere,
Pur saver qy l’Ordre tendra.
E cely qe le enfreindra, 230
Serra privément chastié,
E de son meffet reprové.
E ceux qe serront trovez
Qe l’Ordre averount bien usez,
Si deyvent pur lur humilité
Estre mis en digneté,
E serrount abbés ou priours
A tenyr l’Ordre en honeurs.
Issi fount les Augustyns,
Qe tant sevent de devyns; 240
Par tot enquergent pleynement
Qy tienent l’Ordre lealment,
E ceux qe l’Ordre tendrount
Par tot loé serrount.
Atant fine nostre Ordre,
Q’à touz bonz ordres se acorde,
E c’est l’Ordre de Bel-Eyse,
Qe à plusours trobien pleyse!

TRANSLATION.--He who will listen to me, may hear and learn the
history of a new Order, which is very pleasant and beautiful:
I will tell it you as I have learnt it from the brethren of my
country. The Order is so cleverly founded, that it takes a point
from all the other orders; there is not an order in this world,
of which there is not there some one point. The name of the Order
I will tell you, that I may not be blamed for what I read; he
who will hear, let him be silent, it is the Order of Fair-Ease.
Of this Order I will tell you the sum; for in the order is many
a worthy fellow, and many a fair and good dame. In this Order
there are without blame, esquires, valets, and serjeants; but
to ribalds and to peasants the Order is entirely forbidden,
so that no one may be received into it. For they would bring
disgrace upon the Order. When ribald or vilein mounts to high
place or office, there where he can have power, there is no more
moderation in them than in the wolf which devours lambs. Of such
people I will say no more, but I will go on to talk about the
Order.

In this Order of which I tell you, it is first ordained thus,
that those who shall belong to the Order, shall have one point
of Sempringham, which will be very agreeable, as the Abbey of
Sempringham has, brothers and sisters together; it is a good
Order, as it seems to me. But so far, in truth, it is changed,
that at Sempringham there must be between the brothers and the
sisters (a thing which displeases many,) ditches and walls of
high measure; but in this Order of Fair-Ease there must be
neither ditch nor wall, nor any other impediment, to hinder
the brethren at their pleasure from visiting the sisters, nor
shall there be any watch-word. Their intimacy shall neither be
separated by linen nor wool, or even by their very skins. From
thence also it is provided, that they who shall enter the Order,
must be well entertained by the abbot: and this our master
commands, to eat well and plentifully three times a day, and
oftener. And if they do it for company, the Order on that account
shall not be the worse.

Of Beverley they have taken a point, which shall be kept well
and accurately, to drink well at their meat, and then afterwards
until supper; and afterwards at the collation, each must have
a piece of candle as long as the arm below the elbow, and as
long as there shall remain a morsel of the candle to burn, the
brethren must continue their drinking.

A point they have taken from the Hospitallers, who are very
courteous knights, and have very becoming robes, so long that
they drag at their feet; shoes and breeches which fit elegantly,
and great palfreys that amble well; so in our Order, in truth,
the brethren and sisters must have them.

Of the Canons they have taken a point, which will agree well
with the Order; for the canons, for great pain, eat in the
refectory flesh three days in the week; so must our sisters and
our brethren eat flesh in the refectory every day, except only
Friday, and likewise Saturday. And if it so happen that there be
a fast on the Saturday, and they have not plenty of fish, they
may have leave to take what provisions are in the house; the
Order will be none the worse for it.

A point they have taken from the Black Monks, that they love
drinking, forsooth, and are drunk every day, for they do not know
any other way of living. But they do it for the sake of society,
and not at all out of gluttony. Also it is provided, that each
brother drink before dinner and after. And if it so happen that
a friend visit a brother (for such must be at hand to solace
the brethren) who shall know how to play in the evening; this I
tell you for certain, he shall sleep late in the morning, until
the evil fumes are issued from his head, for great danger of the
sight.

Of the Secular Canons, who willingly serve ladies, our masters
have taken a point, and will that this point be well observed
and well used; for know that this point is more needful than
any in the Order, in order to solace the brethren. And so it
is commanded very straightly, on pain of excommunication,
that the brethren be constant companions of the sisters, both
before matins and after, so that the brethren be not blamed for
neglecting them, nor the Order receive discredit.

The Grey Monks are a hard race; yet, nevertheless, from their
order our masters will that the Order have one of their points
for mortification; and in fact it is not over courteous,--for
they go to matins without breeches. So ought our brethren to do,
to be more at their ease. And when they make no prayer, they must
be on their knees, to have greater and more effectual devotion:
and they ring with one bell, and no more,--it is their order
and usage:--but our brethren, to double it, must sound with two
bells. Our Order has such difference, that our sisters must
lay down flat and pray on their backs, they do it out of great
devotion.

Also they take in patience, it is a point from the Order of
Silence; each is a good order, without doubt, but none of the
others is so valuable;--therefore they will take one point of
this order for our purpose. Each is shut up in his cell, to
repose himself alone; so our brothers must be, and each at his
window must have some plants to comfort him, and his sister in
his arms, and he must be shut up privately, that nobody may
disturb them.

We must not forget, if our Order is to last, the Friars Minors,
in no case; so must we have a point of their order, to be of more
account. Their order is founded in poverty, therefore they go the
open way to heaven completely; and I will tell you exactly how
they seek poverty always; when they travel through the country,
they take up their lodgings with the chief baron or knight,
or with the chief person or priest, there where they can be
satiated; but, by St. Peter of Rome! they will never lodge with
a poor man,--so long as there are richer men to be found, they
prefer asking a lodging of them. In the same manner our brethren
must not take up their lodging, nor seek other place, than where
they know there is plenty, and there they ought in charity to eat
flesh and whatever they find, as the Friars Minors do.

As we owe something to the Minors, we will borrow also of the
Preachers; they do not go bare-foot like the others, but they
go preaching with shoes on, and if it happen any time that they
have sore feet, they may, if they like, ride on horseback at
their ease all the day long. But quite in another manner ought
our brethren to do, when they preach through the land; for they
must ride thus always both far and near: and when they make any
sermon, they must be within doors. And always after dinner they
ought rightly to preach; for many a man is of such a character,
that his heart is harder than stone; but when he shall have once
drunk, then as soon as he has heard the Order, and the hearts
shall be moistened, however little they might have heard, they
will listen to the Order, when they have heard the sermon.

Thus is our Order founded, and our brothers have deemed right,
that each county must have an abbot, who has power to receive
sisters and brothers, and make and hold full orders, and that
the points shall be held which our masters have provided. A
provincial ought to go and inquire in the land, to know who will
hold the Order. And he who shall break it, shall be chastised
in private, and reproved for his trespass. And those who shall
be found to have made good use of the order, must, for their
humility, be raised to dignity, and they shall be abbots or
priors to hold the order in honours. Thus do the Augustine
Monks, who know so many devices; every where they give full
encouragement to those who hold the Order loyally, and those who
will hold the Order shall be praised everywhere.

Now ends our Order, which agrees with all good orders, and it is
the Order of Fair-Ease, which to many may it please too well!

* * * * *

Edward endeavoured to call off the vigour of his subjects from domestic sedition to foreign wars. But the expenses dependent upon the latter only added to the many burdens under which the English peasantry laboured; and it is now that we begin to find the complaints of the latter vented in the shape of popular songs.

SONG OF THE HUSBANDMAN.

[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 64, r^o; reign of Edw. II.]

Ich herde men upo mold make muche mon,
Hou he beth i-tened of here tilyynge,
Gode ȝeres and corn bothe beth a-gon,
Ne kepeth here no sawe ne no song syng.
“Now we mote worche, nis ther non other won,
Mai ich no lengore lyve with my lesinge;
Ȝet ther is a bitterore bid to the bon,
For ever the furthe peni mot to the kynge.

Thus we carpeth for the kyng, and carieth ful colde,
And weneth for te kevere, and ever buth a-cast;
Whose hath eny god, hopeth he nout to holde,
Bote ever the levest we leoseth a-last.

Luther is to leosen ther ase lutel ys,
And haveth monie hynen that hopieth therto;
The hayward heteth us harm to habben of his;
The bailif bockneth us bale and weneth wel do;
The wodeward waiteth us wo that loketh under rys;
Ne mai us ryse no rest rycheis ne ro.
Thus me pileth the pore that is of lute pris:
Nede in swot and in swynk swynde mot swo:”

Nede he mot swynde thah he hade swore,
That nath nout en hod his lied for te hude.
Thus wil walketh in londe, and lawe is for-lore,
And al is piked of the pore, the prikyares prude.

Thus me pileth the pore and pyketh ful clene,
The ryche raymeth withouten eny ryht;
Ar londes and ar leodes liggeth fol lene,
Thorh b[i]ddyng of baylyfs such harm hem hath hiht.
Meni of religioun me halt hem ful hene,
Baroun and bonde, the clerc and the knyht.
Thus wil walketh in loud, and wondred ys wene,
Falsshipe fatteth and marreth wyth myht.

Stont fulle ythe stude, and halt him ful sturne,
That maketh beggares go with bordon and bagges.
Thus we beth honted from hale to hurne;
That er werede robes, nou wereth ragges.

Ȝet cometh budeles, with ful muche bost,--
“Greythe me selver to the grene wax:
Thou art writen y my writ that thou wel wost.”
Mo then ten sithen told y my tax.
Thenne mot ych habbe hennen a-rost,
Feyr on fyhshe day launprey ant lax;
Forth to the chepyn geyneth ne chost,
Thah y sulle mi bil ant my borstax.

Ich mot legge my wed wel ȝef y wolle,
Other sulle mi corn on gras that is grene.
Ȝet I shal be foul cherl, thah he han the fulle,
That ich alle ȝer spare thenne y mot spene.

Nede y mot spene that y spared ȝore,
Aȝeyn this cachereles cometh thus y mot care;
Cometh the maister budel brust ase a bore,
Seith he wole mi bugging bringe ful bare.
Mede y mot munten a mark other more,
Thah ich at the set dey sulle mi mare.
Ther the grene wax us greveth under gore,
That me us honteth ase hound doth the hare.

He us honteth ase hound hare doh on hulle;
Seththe y tek to the lond such tene me wes taht.
Nabbeth ner budeles boded ar sulle,
For he may scape ant we aren ever caht.

Thus y kippe ant cacche cares ful colde,
Seththe y counte ant cot hade to kepe;
To seche selver to the kyng y mi seed solde,
Forthi mi lond leye lith ant leorneth to slepe.
Seththe he mi feire feh fatte y my folde,
When y thenk o mi weole wel neh y wepe;
Thus bredeth monie beggares bolde,
Ant ure ruȝe ys roted ant ruls er we repe.

Ruls ys oure ruȝe ant roted in the stre,
For wickede wederes by brok ant by brynke.
Ther wakeneth in the world wondred ant wee,
Ase god is swynden anon as so for te swynke.

TRANSLATION.--I heard men on the earth make much
lamentation,--how they are injured in their tillage,--good years
and corn are both gone,--they keep here no saying and sing no
song.--Now we must work, there is no other custom,--I can no
longer live with my gleaning;--yet there is a bitterer asking for
the boon,--for ever the fourth penny must [go] to the king.

Thus we complain for the king, and care full coldly,--and think
to recover, and ever are cast;--he who hath any goods, expects
not to keep them,--but ever the dearest we lose at last.

It is grievous to lose, where there is little,--and we have many
fellows who expect it;--the hayward commandeth us harm to have
of his;--the bailiff causeth us to know evil, and thinks to do
well;--the woodward has woe in keeping for us, who looketh under
branches;--there may not arise to us or remain with us riches or
repose.--Thus they rob the poor man, who is of little value:--he
must needs in sweat and in labour waste away so.

He must needs pine away, though he had swore (?),--that hath not
a hood to hide his head.--Thus will walketh in the land, and law
is destroyed,--and all the pride of the rider is picked from the
poor.

Thus they rob the poor and pick him full clean,--the rich
lord it without any right;--their lands and their people lay
full lean,--through asking of bailifs such harm has befallen
them.--Many of religion hold them full abject,--baron and
bond-man, the clerk and the knight.--Thus will walks in the land,
and consternation is frequent,--falsehood fattens and marrs with
might.

He stands full in the place, and holds him full sternly,--that
makes beggars go with bordon and bags.--Thus we are hunted from
hall to corner;--they who once wore robes, now wear rags.

Still there come beadles, with very great boast,--“Prepare me
silver for the green wax:--thou art entered in my writing, that
thou knowest well of.”--More than ten times I paid my tax.--Then
must I have hens roasted,--fair on the fish day lamprey and
salmon;--forth to the market gains not cost,--though I sell my
bill and my borstax.

I must lay my pledge well if I will,--or sell my corn while it is
but green grass.--Yet I shall be a foul churl, though they have
the whole,--what I have saved all the year, I must spend then.

I must needs spend what I saved formerly,--I must thus take care
against the time these catchpoles come;--the master beadle comes
as roughly as a boar,--he says he will make my lodgings full
bare;--I must give him for meed a mark or more,--though I sell
my mare at the day fixed.--There the green wax grieveth us under
garment,--so that they hunt us as a hound doth the hare.

They hunt us as a hound doth a hare on the hill;--since I took to
the land such hurt was given me:--the beadles have never asked
their ...,--for they may scape, and we are always caught.

Thus I take and catch cares full cold,--since I reckoning
and cot had to keep;--to seek silver for the king, I sold
my seed,--wherefore my land lies fallow and learneth to
sleep.--Since they fetched my fair cattle in my fold,--when
I think of my weal I very nearly weep;--thus breed many bold
beggars,--and our rye is rotted and ... before we reap.

... is our rye and rotted in the straw,--on account of the
bad weather by brook and by brink.--There wakes in the world
consternation and woe,--as good is to perish at once as so to
labour.

* * * * *

The following song appears to be directed against the gay fashions in Ladies’ clothing which became prevalent about this time, and seem even to have been aped by the middle and lower ranks.

AGAINST THE PRIDE OF THE LADIES.

[MS. Harl. 2253, fol. 61, v^o; reign of Edw. II.]

Lord that lenest us lyf, ant lokest uch an lede,
For te cocke with knyf nast thou none nede;
Bothe wepmon ant wyf sore mowe drede,
Lest thou be sturne with strif, for bone that thou bede,
in wunne
That monku[n]ne
Shulde shilde hem from sunne.

Nou hath prude the pris in everuche plawe;
By mony wymmon un-wis y sugge mi sawe,
For ȝef a ledy lyne is leid after lawe,
Uch a strumpet that ther is such drahtes wl drawe;
in prude
Uch a screwe wol hire shrude
Thah he nabbe nout a smoke hire foule ers to hude.

Furmest in boure were boses y-broht,
Levedis to honoure ichot he were wroht;
Uch gigelot wol loure, bote he hem habbe soht;
Such shrewe fol soure ant duere hit hath a-boht;
in helle
With develes he shule duelle,
For the clogges that cleveth by here chelle.

Nou ne lacketh hem no lyn boses in to beren;
He sitteth ase a slat swyn that hongeth is eren.
Such a joustynde gyn uch wrecche wol weren,
Al hit cometh in declyn this gigelotes geren;
upo lofte
The devel may sitte softe,
Ant holden his halymotes ofte.

Ȝef ther lyth a loket by er outher eȝe,
That mot with worse be wet for lat of other leȝe;
The bout and the barbet wyth frountel shule feȝe;
Habbe he a fauce filet, he halt hire hed heȝe,
to shewe
That heo be kud ant knewe
For strompet in rybaudes rewe.

TRANSLATION.--Lord, that givest us life, and regardest every
people,--to ... with knife thou hast no need;--both man and
woman sorely may dread,--lest thou be stern with wrath, for the
boon that thou askedst,--in joy--that mankind--should shield
themselves from sin.

Now pride hath the prize in every play;--of many unwise women
I say my saw,--for if a lady’s linen is laid after law,--every
strumpet that there is such draughts will draw;--in pride--every
shrew will clothe herself,--though she have not a smock to hide
her dirty tail.

First in bower were bosses brought,--to honour ladies I wot they
were wrought;--every giglot will lour, unless she have them
sought;--such shrew full sourly and dearly hath bought it;--in
hell--with devils they shall dwell,--on account of the clogs
which hang by their jowls.

Now they want no linen to bear bosses in;--they sit like a
slit swine which hangs its ears.--Such a justling contrivance
every wretch will wear,--that these giglots’ gear all comes
to nothing;--on high--the devil may sit softly,--and hold his
sabbaths often.

If there lies a locket by ear or eye,--that may with worse be
wet, for lack of other lye; the but and the barbel with frontlet
shall quarrel;--if she have a false fillet, she holds her head
high,--to show--that she is famous and well known--for a strumpet
in the ribalds’ ranks.

* * * * *

Another song, written apparently about the same period, is a satire upon the smaller Ecclesiastical Courts, and the vexation which they caused to the peasantry.

A SATYRE ON THE CONSISTORY COURTS.

[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 70, v^o; of reign of Edw. II.]

Ne mai no lewed lued libben in londe,
Be he never in hyrt so haver of honde,
So lerede us bi-ledes;
Ȝef ich on molde mote with a mai,
Y shal falle hem byfore ant lurnen huere lay,
Ant rewen alle huere redes.
Ah bote y be the furme day on folde hem by-fore,
Ne shal y nout so skere scapen of huere score;
So grimly he on me gredes,
That y ne mot me lede ther with mi lawe,
On alle maner othes that heo me wulleth awe,
Heore boc ase un-bredes.
Heo wendeth bokes un-brad,
Ant maketh men a moneth a-mad;
Of scathe y wol me skere,
Ant fleo from my fere;
Ne rohte he whet it were,
Boten heo hit had.

Furst ther sit an old cherl in a blake hure,
Of all that ther sitteth semeth best syre,
And leyth ys leg o lonke.
An heme in an herygoud with honginde sleven,
Ant mo then fourti him by-fore my bales to breven,
In sunnes ȝef y songe:
Heo pynkes with heore penne on heore parchemyn,
Ant sayen y am breved ant y-broht yn
Of al my weole wlonke.
Alle heo bueth redy myn routhes to rede,
Ther y mot for menske munte sum mede,
Ant thonkfulliche hem thonke.
Shal y thonke hem ther er y go?
Ȝe, the maister ant ys men bo.
Ȝef y am wreint in heore write,
Thenne am y bac-bite,
For moni mon heo maketh wyte
Of wymmene wo.

Ȝet ther sitteth somenours syexe other sevene,
Mys motinde men alle by here evene,
Ant recheth forth heore rolle;
Hyrd-men hem hatieth, ant uch mones hyne,
For everuch a parosshe heo polketh in pyne,
Ant clastreth with heore colle.
Nou wol uch fol clerc that is fayly,
Wende to the bysshop ant bugge bayly;
Nys no wyt in is nolle.
Come to countene court couren in a cope,
Ant suggen he hath privilegie proud of the pope,
Swart ant al to-swolle.
Aren heo to-swolle for swore?
Ȝe, the hatred of helle beo heore!
For ther heo beodeth a boke,
To sugge ase y folht toke;
Heo shulen in helle on an hoke
Honge therefore.

Ther stont up a ȝeolumon, ȝeȝeth with a ȝerde,
Ant hat out an heh that al the hyrt herde,
Ant cleopeth Magge ant Malle;
Ant heo cometh by-modered ase a mor-hen,
Ant scrynketh for shome, ant shometh for men,
Un-comely under calle.
Heo biginneth to shryke, ant scremeth anon,
Ant saith, “by my gabbyng ne shal hit so gon,
Ant that beo on ou alle;
That thou shalt me wedde ant welde to wyf.”
Ah me were levere with lawe leose my lyf,
Then so to fote hem falle.
Shal y to fote falle for mi fo?
Ȝe monie by-swyketh heo swo.
Of thralles y am ther thrat,
That sitteth swart ant for-swat,
Ther y mot hente me en hat,
Er ich hom go.

Such chaffare y chepe at the chapitre,
That maketh moni thryve-mon un-thenfol to be,
With thonkes ful thunne:
Ant seththe y go coure at constory,
Ant falle to fote uch a fayly,
Heore is this worldes wynne,
Seththen y pleide at bisshopes plee.
Ah! me were levere be sonken y the see,
In sor withouten synne.
At chirche ant thourh cheping ase dogge y am drive,
That me were levere of lyve then so for te lyve,
To care of al my kynne.
Atte constorie heo kenneth us care,
Ant whissheth us evele ant worse to fare;
A pruest proud ase a po,
Seththe weddeth us bo,
Wyde heo worcheth us wo,
For wymmene ware.

TRANSLATION.--No unlearned (lay) person may live in the land,--be
he in assembly never so ... of hand,--the learned (the clergy) so
lead us about;--if I chance to go on the earth with a maid,--I
shall fall before them and learn their lay,--and rue all their
counsels.--But unless I be on the foremost day in the land
before them,--I shall not escape so clear of their score,--they
cry on me so grimly,--that I may not lead myself there with my
law,--on all kinds of oaths that they will give me,--their books
as....--They turn over books that are not broad,--and make men
a month mad;--from hurt I will save myself,--and fly from my
companion;--she recked not what it were,--but she had it.

First, there sit an old churl in a black gown,--of all who sit
there he seems to be most the lord,--and lays his leg along.--A
hem in a cloak with hanging sleeves,--and more than forty before
him to write my bales,--in sins if I sung:--they pink with their
pens on their parchment,--and say I am briefed and brought in--of
all my fair wealth.--They are all ready to read my sorrow--there
I must out of respect give some bribe,--and gratefully thank
them.--Shall I thank them there before I go?--Yea, the master
and his men both.--If I am accused in their writing,--then am I
back-bitten,--for many men they make to know--woe from women.

Yet there sit somnours six or seven,--misjudging men all
alike,--and reach forth their roll;--herdsmen hate them, and each
man’s servant,--for every parish they put in pain,--and clatter
with their collar (?).--Now will each foolish clerk that is ...,
go to the bishop and buy bailywick;--there is no sense in his
head.--He comes creeping to the county court in a cope,--and
saying he hath proud privilege of the pope,--black and all
swollen.--Are they swollen for swearing (?)?--yea, the hatred
of hell be theirs!--for there they offer a book,--to say as I
baptism took;--they shall in hell on a hook--hang for it.

There stands up a yellow-man, and jogs with a rod,--and shouts
out aloud that all the assembly heard,--and calls Mag and
Mal;--and she comes be-mothered as a moor-hen,--and shrinks
for shame, and is ashamed on account of the men,--un-comely
under petticoat.--She begins to screech, and screams anon,--and
says, “by my gabbing, it shall not go so,--and that be on you
all;--that thou shalt wed me and have me to wife.”--But I would
rather with law lose my life,--than so fall at their feet.--Shall
I fall at the feet of my foes?--Yea, many she deceiveth so.--I
am there threatened by thralls,--who sit black and covered with
sweat,--there I must take me a command,--before I go home.

Such merchandise I buy at the chapter,--that makes many thrifty
men to be unthankful,--with very thin thanks:--and since I
go creeping to the consistory,--and fall at the foot of each
...,--theirs is the world’s joy,--since I played at the bishop’s
pleading.--But I had rather be drowned in the sea,--in sorrow
without sin.--At church and through the market like a dog I
am driven,--that I would rather be dead than so to live,--to
have care for all my kindred.--At the consistory they teach us
care,--and wish us evil and worse to fare;--a priest as proud
as a peacock--afterwards weds us both,--widely they work us
woe,--for women’s ware.

* * * * *

In the latter years of the thirteenth century, Edward became involved in the Scottish wars; and the enmity of the two nations was manifested in multitudes of songs, of which the greater part are lost, although a few are preserved, and a fragment or two of others are found in the old historians. The following song, attributed in the several manuscripts to different writers, was (if we may judge by the number of copies which remain,) very popular. Different persons seem, from time to time, to have altered it and added to it. It appears to have been composed in 1298, soon after the sanguinary battle of Falkirk; but the latter stanzas, found only in one manuscript, have apparently been added at a somewhat later period.

SONG ON THE SCOTTISH WARS.

[MS. Cotton. Claudius, D. VI. fol. 182, v^o; of the beginning of the fourteenth cent. (_C._ 1.)--MS. Cotton. Titus, A. XX. fol. 64, v^o; of reign of Edw. III. (_C._ 2.)--MS. of Clare Hall, Cambridge, of fourteenth cent. (_Cl._)--MS. Sloan. No. 4934, fol. 103, r^o; a modern copy from a MS. not now known. (_Sl._)--MS. Bodl. Oxfd. Rawl. B. 214, fol. 216, r^o; of the fifteenth cent.]

Ludere volentibus ludens paro lyram;
De mundi malitia rem demonstro miram;
Nil quod nocet referam, rem gestam requiram;
Scribo novam satyram, sed sic ne seminet iram.
Ira movet militum mentes modernorum,
Dum inermes detrahunt factis fortiorum;

VARIOUS READINGS.--2. _militia_, C. 2. & Cl. _demonstrans_, C.
2.--3. _perquiram_, Cl.--7. _sed vos non commoveant_, C. 1.

Te tamen non terreant dentes detractorum:
Cum recte vivas, ne cures verba malorum.
[Ira si duraverit, transit in livorem;
Livor non cohibitus agitat furorem;
Furor dies breviat, ducens in anguorem;
Ira odium generat, concordia nutrit amorem,
Amor orbis obiit, virus est in villa;
Prodiit ex odio pestis non pusilla; †10
Lator homicidii levavit vexilla:
Acrius invidia nichil est, nil nequius illa.
Invido nil nequius, nullus est qui nescit;
Nam de bono proximi dolor ejus crescit.
Unde justus proficit, hinc ipse tabescit.
Sincerum nisi vas, quodcumque infundis acescit.
Ut acescant igitur mentes malignorum,
Narrabo quæ noveram de gestis Anglorum.

VARIOUS READINGS.--8. Instead of this second tetrastich, the
Sloane and Cambridge MSS. have the four which are here given
in brackets.--[†7. _languorem_, Sl.--†9. _abiit_, Sl.--†12.
_Nequius ... nil est, nil acrius_, Sl.