Part 40 (2/2)

Fulle twentie mancas I wylle thee alise [185], 180 And twayne of hamlettes[186] to thee and thie heyres.

So shalle all Normannes from mie londe be fed, Theie alleyn[187] have syke love as to acquyre yer bredde.

CHORUS.

Whan Freedom, dreste yn blodde-steyned veste, To everie knyghte her warre-songe sunge, 185 Uponne her hedde wylde wedes were spredde; A gorie anlace bye her honge.

She daunced onne the heathe; She hearde the voice of deathe; Pale-eyned affryghte, hys harte of sylver hue, 190 In vayne a.s.sayled[188] her bosomme to acale[189]; She hearde onflemed[190] the shriekynge voice of woe, And sadnesse ynne the owlette shake the dale.

She shooke the burled[191] speere, On hie she jeste[192] her sheelde, 195 Her foemen[193] all appere, And flizze[194] alonge the feelde.

Power, wythe his heasod[195] straught[196] ynto the skyes, Hys speere a sonne-beame, and his sheelde a starre, Alyche[197] twaie[198] brendeynge[199] gronfyres[200] rolls hys eyes, 200 Chastes[201] with hys yronne feete and soundes to war.

She syttes upon a rocke, She bendes before his speere, She ryses from the shocke, Wieldynge her owne yn ayre. 205 Harde as the thonder dothe she drive ytte on, Wytte scillye[202] wympled[203] gies[204] ytte to hys crowne, Hys longe sharpe speere, hys spreddynge sheelde ys gon, He falles, and fallynge rolleth thousandes down.

War, goare-faced war, bie envie burld[205], arist[206], 210 Hys feerie heaulme[207] noddynge to the ayre, Tenne bloddie arrowes ynne hys streynynge fyste--

[Footnote 1: Of old, formerly.]

[Footnote 2: writers, historians.]

[Footnote 3: much.]

[Footnote 4: inglorious.]

[Footnote 5: bereaving.]

[Footnote 6: faith.]

[Footnote 7: unforgiving.]

[Footnote 8: divines, clergymen, monks.]

[Footnote 9: holy.]

[Footnote 10: work.]

[Footnote 11: not.]

[Footnote 12: author.]

[Footnote 13: though, notwithstanding.]

[Footnote 14: clerk, or clergyman.]

[Footnote 15: entyn, even.]

[Footnote 16: might.]

<script>