Must be the speech that men most need.
Seldom was by any chance

Praised the English tongue in France;
Do we the same to their languáge
Methinks we do them no outrage.
For unlearned Englishman I spell,
That understandeth what I tell,
And specially I those address
That all their lives in idleness
On trifles waste and beggars' lies,
To them I say: "Take care, be wise,
And well unto my words attend,
And all your way with might amend."
Ill have they who in spending spend,
And find no fruit thereof at end. . .

Now from this prologue we will blinne,"
And in Christ's name our book begin:
Cursor o'World men ought it call,
For almost it o'er runs it all.
Take we our beginning than3
From Him who all the world began.

Richard Rolle of Hampole

died 1349

THE INFANT

· (From The Pricke of Conscience,1 c. 1340)

[When man] was born to this world's light,
He had not either strength or might,
Either to walk or yet to stand,
Nor to creep with foot and hand.
Then has the man less might than beast;
When he is born, he seems the least;
For a beast, when it is born, may go
And run soon after to and fro;
But a man has no might thereto,
When he is born, such things to do;
For then he may not stand nor creep,
But only sprawl and cry and weep.
For a child is scarcely born before
It has begun to cry and roar;
And by that cry men tell truly
Whether it man or woman be.
When it is born it cries such way:
For if it be man it says "a, a,"

As the first in Father Adam's name.

So that the letter is the same

THE CELESTIAL COUNTRY
(From the same)

All joys are there in that countrie,
There life from death forever free;
There youth is, ever without eld,
All wealth is there forever held:
There is aye rest without travail;
There are all goods that never fail;
There peace forever, without strife:
There every kind of joyous life;
There is, free from all darkness, light;
There is aye day and never night;
There aye is summer bright to see;

7815

7820

And never more winter in that countrie;

465

470

And there an endless home made sure;

7830

There too are all delights and ease,

And sure tranquility and peace;

E is the foremost letter in

Eve's name, who brought us death and sin. Hence a clerk made in this manere,

This line in metre written here:

485

There is accord, and its due mede Is given aye to each good deed; There's lowly awe and reverence, And meekness and obedience; There are all virtues and no sin, All dainties and delights therein, All wisdom's there from folly free, And honour without villany.

7850

7852

Lawrence Minot

c. 1300-1352

THE BATTLE OF HALIDON HILL1

Listen, Lordings, if you will

Hear of the battle of Halidon Hill.

True King that sitteth on thy throne,
Unto thee I tell my tale,

And unto thee I bid a boon,

For thou art balm of all my bale.

As thou hast made the earth and moon,

And beasts and foulės great and smale,
Unto me send thy succour soon
Direct my deedės in this dale.

In this dale I droup2 and dare
For evil deeds that cost me dear,
For England had my heart great care,
When Edward went at first to were.3
The men of France were bold to fare
Against him with the shield and spere;
They turned again with sidės sair
And all their pomp not worth a pere.1

A pear is more of price sometides
Than all the boast of Normandie.
They sent their ships on ilka side
With flesh and wine and wheat and rye;
With heart and hand, 'tis not denied,
For to help Scotland gan they hie,
They fled and durst no deed abide
And all their boast not worth a flye.

For all their boast they durst not fight,
For dint of death they had such dout,
Of Scotland had they never sight
Although they were of wordės stout.
They would have magnified their might
And troubled were they there about.
Now God help Edward in his right,-
Amen-and all his ready rout.

40

That were before so stout and gay.

Gay they were and well they thought On Earl Morays and others stout;

1 This poem is one of the famous war-songs which celebrate events in the reign of Edward III. between 1333-1352. The battle of Halidon Hill was fought in 1333. The King, who was besieging Berwick, completely routed a Scotch force under Sir Archibald Douglas, which had come to relieve the town. Berwick passed into the hands of the English, and has remained so till today. 4 Pear. 7 Disperse. John Randolph, 3rd Earl of Moray, d. 1346, was one of the strongest supporters of the young king of Scotland, David II.

2 Pine.

Sometimes.

3 War. • Fear.

They Scottish gauds might nowise gain
For all they stumbled at that stile.

They came not from that strife alive
That were before so proud in prese,17
Jésu, for thy woundes five,

In England help us to have peace.

10

Full of all love and of goodness,

No man may tell of her fairness.

It befel in time of May,

55

60

When is merry and pleasing the summer's day,
Away have gone the winter's showers,
And every field is full of flowers,
Of blossoms springing on the bough,
O'er all the land 'tis merry enow,-
That this same Queen, Dame Erodys,
Took with her maidens two of pris,
And walked in the undertide 5
To play within her orchard-side,
To see the flowers spread and spring,
And see and hear the sweet birds sing.
Then down they seated them all three,
Fairly beneath an ympė tree,"

65

Of traitors some, and some of guile,

Or some mishap that chanced erstwhile:

10

Of all the things that men may see

And full soon that fairest queen,

Most fit to praise forsooth they be.

Fell fast asleep upon the green,

70

In Brittany these lays were wrought,

The maidens durst not her awake,

There first were made, and thence were brought

But round her they 'gan merry make,

Of áventures that fell in days

15

Whereof the Britons made their lays;

And let her sleep till afternoon When the undertide was gone;

So when of old they chanced to hear

And as soon as she gan wake

75

Of aventures in days that were,

They took their harps with glee and game?

And made a lay and did it name.

20

She cried, and loathsome 'gan her make,
Her hands and eke her feet she tore,
And scratched her till she bled full sore;
Her clothing rich she all to-rent,
All wild out of her wittės went.
The maidens two that sat beside,
They durst no longer there abide,
But straightway sought the castle hall
And told both knights and squires all,
How that their Queen away would go.
The knights went also, and ladies too,
And demoiselles fifty and many mo,7
To fetch her as they fain would do.
Into the orchard ran they out
And took her in their armis stout,
And brought her to her bed at last
And therein held her down full fast;
But still she cried in angry mood,
And rent herself as she were wode.
When heard the King this dread tidíng,
He was never so woe for any thing.
The King came with his knightės keen '
Into the chamber to his Queen,
And for her had he great pitíe.
"Sweet heart," he said, "how may this be,
That thou who ever wert so still,
Shouldst now cry out so loud and shrill?
Thy body that was white beforn,
Now with thy nails is rent and torn.

Right boldly then I answered there

To keep my landes over all.

'Nor will I come, nor do I dare.'

Now my Queen is left forlorn,
The best ladie that e'er was born;
No more will I woman see,
In wilderness now will I be,
And there abide in woodlands hoar
And in the wilds forevermore.
Then when ye know I have left all,
Ye straight a parliament shall call,
And ye shall chose you a new King,
And do your best in everything."
Great sorrow then was in the hall,
Weeping and crying 'mongst them all,
And there might neither old nor young
For weeping speak a word with tongue.
They kneeled all a-down i-fere,"
And begged him if his will it were,
That he would never from them

'Away!" he said, "I will not so." Then all his kindred he forsook And unto him a sclaveyn 16 took, He would have no other hood; Hose, nor shoe, nor other good;

go,

205

210

215

220

And after, back he brought me home,

160

Only his harp he took, and straight

225

Back into our own orchárd,

He journeyed barefoot through the gate.

And said to me this afterward:

No man there must with him go,

'Look tomorrow that thou be

Alas! there weeping was and woe.

Here beneath this ympẻ tree;

He that was King and bare the crown,

And if thou makest any let,

165

Where'er thou be thou shalt be fet,12

Went out so poorly from the town, Into the wild he takes his road,

230

Both through the heath and through the wood. Nothing he hath to give him ease,

14 Disgraced.

16 Hair-shirt.

In summer on the haws he lives,

That midst her leaves the hawthorne gives;
In winter, by the root and rind,
For other thing he may not find.

He was all shrunken, shriveled, pale,
With beating rain, and cutting hail;
No man could tell the travail sore
He had endured ten years or more.
He that had castles, halls and towers,
Forests, rivers, fields, and flowers,
Nothing that likes him18 now had he,
But savage beasts that from him flee.
His matted beard has shaggy grown,
Below his girdle has it gone.

He taketh harp and maketh glee,

And lies all night beneath a tree.

One lady there he came untó,

245

He searched her face and form alsó,
Right well he knew it was, I wis,
His own ladíe, Dame Erodys.
He saw her plain and she him eke,
Yet ne'er a word did either speak.
For him she did so poor espy

310

250

255

260

265

That sometime was so rich and high,
The tears ran down her face, I wis,
And looking on her so did his,
And then away they made her ride,
For there no longer she might bide.
"Alas!" he said, "and woe is me!
Why will not death come suddenly!
Wretch that I am! O, that I might
Die now, when I have seen this sight!
Alas! too long lasteth my life,
Since I may speak not with my wife,
Nor she with me a word may speak!
Alas! why will my heart not break!
Parfay!" he said, "whate'er betide,
I will see where those ladies ride,
And in that way I too will go-
I care not for my life a sloe."
His sclavyne put he on his back

315

320

325

And all the little birds that were,

330

And took his harp right as he spak,

So mickle joy there was therein.

And swiftly after them is gone,

His harping when he laid aside,

Over stock and over stone.