Название: The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire
Автор: Various
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066217273
isbn:
But manye's the troope that hee dothe leade,
And they are stoute and stronge."
"And whoo is yon chiefe soe brighte of blee,
With hys troopes that beate the playne?"
"Oh that's the younge earle of Albermarle,[4]
Yleading hys gallante trayne.
"A more gallante warrioure than that lorde
Is not yon hostes among;
And the gallante troopes that hee doth leade,
Like hym, are stoute and younge."
"And who yon shynny warriours twoo,
With theyre troopes yclade the same?"
"Oh they're the Bruces,[5] that in thys fighte
Have com t'acquire them fame."
Oh then call'd oute kynge Davyd,
And fulle of woe spake hee:
"And ever I hold those Bruces false,
For muche they owe to mee.
"And who's yon chiefe of giante heighte,
And of bulke so huge to see?"
"Walter Espec[6] is that chiefe's name,
And a potente chiefe is hee.
"Hys stature's large as the mountaine oake,
And eke as strong hys mighte:
There's ne'ere a chiefe in alle the northe
Can dare with hym to fighte."
"And whoo's yon youthe, yon youthe I see,
A galloping o'er the moore?
Hys troopes that followe soe gallantelye
Proclayme hym a youthe of pow're."
"Young Roger de Mowbray[7] is that youthe,
And hee's sprang of the royal line;
Hys wealthe and hys followers, oh kyng,
Are allemost as greate as thyne."
"And who's yon aged chiefe I see
All yclad in purple veste?"
"Oh that's the Bishoppe o' th' Orkney isles,[8]
And hee alle the hoste hath bleste.
"And alle the reste are noblemen,
Of fortune and fame ech one:
From Nottingham and from Derbyeshyre
Those valiante chiefetaynes com."[9]
"But what's yon glitt'ring tow're I see
I' the centre o' the hoste?"
"Oh that's the hallow'd Standarde of whyche
The Englishe make suche boaste.
"A maste of a shipp it is so hie,
Alle bedect with golde soe gaye;
And on the topp is a holye crosse,
That shynes as brighte as the daye.
"Around it hang the holye banners
Of manye a blessed saynte;
Saynte Peter, and John of Beverlye,
And Saynte Wilfred there they paynte.
"The aged folke arounde it throng,
With their old hayres alle so greye;
And manye a chiefetayne there bows ydowne,
And so heart'lye dothe hee praye."
Oh then bespake the kyng of Scotts,
And soe heavylie spake hee:
"And had I but yon holye Standarde,
Right gladsom sholde I bee.
"And had I but yon holye Standarde,
That there so his doth tow're,
I would not care for yon Englishe hoste,
Nor alle yon chieftaynes pow're.
"Oh had I but yon holie roode,
That there soe brighte doth showe;
I wolde not care for yon Englishe hoste,
Nor the worste that theye colde doe."
Oh then bespake prince Henrye,
And like a brave prince spake hee:
"Ah let us but fighte like valiante men,
And wee'l make yon hostes to flee.
"Oh let us but fighte like valiante men,
And to Christe's wyll ybowe,
And yon hallow'd Standarde shall bee ours,
And the victorie alsoe."
Prince Henrye was as brave a youthe
As ever fought in fielde;
Full many a warrioure that dreade day
To hym hys lyfe dyd yeilde.
Prince Henrye was as fayre a youthe
As the sunne dyd e're espye;
Full manye a ladye in Scottishe lande
For that young prince dyd sighe.
Prince Henrye call'd his young foot page,
And thus to hym spake hee:
"Oh heede my wordes, and serve mee true,
And thou sall have golde and fee.
"Stande thou on yonder rising hylle,
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