第32章

Wyth hym tooke hee wyght men two, Peter of Dale was on of tho, Tother was Bryan of Beare; Thatte wele durst strike wyth swerde and knife, And fyght full manlie for theyr lyfe, What tyme as musters were. These three men wended at theyr wyll, This wickede sewe gwhyl they cam tyll, Liggand under a tree;Rugg'd and rustic was her here, Scho rase up wyth a felon fere, To fyght agen the three.

Grizely was scho for to meete, Scho rave the earthe up wyth her feete, The barke cam fra' the tree:

When Freer Myddeltone her saugh, Wete yow wele hee list not laugh, Full earnestful luik'd hee.

These men of auncestors were so wight, They bound them bauldly for to fyght, And strake at her full sare;Until a kilne they garred her flee, Wolde God sende thayme the victorye, They wolde aske hym na maire.

The sewe was in the kilne hoile doone, And they wer on the bawke aboone, For hurting of theyr feete;They wer sea sauted wyth this sewe, That 'mang thayme was a stalwarth stewe, The kilne began to reeke!

Durst noe man nighe her wyth his hande, But put a rape downe wyth a wande, And heltered her ful meete;They hauled her furth agen her wyll, Qunyl they cam until a hille, A little fra the streete. And ther scho made thayme sike a fray, As, had they lived until Domesday, They colde yt nere forgette:

Scho brayded upon every syde, And ranne on thayme gapyng ful wyde, For nathing wolde scho lette.

Scho gaf sike hard braydes at the bande That Peter of Dale had in his hande, Hee myght not holde hys feete;Scho chased thayme sea to and fro, The wight men never wer sea woe, Ther mesure was not mete.

Scho bound her boldly to abide, To Peter of Dale scho cam aside, Wyth mony a hideous yelle;Scho gaped sea wide and cryed sea hee, The freer sayd, 'I conjure thee, Thou art a fiend of helle!

'Thou art comed hider for sum trayne, I conjure thee to go agayne, Wher thou was wont to dwell.'

He sained hym wyth crosse and creede, Tooke furth a booke, began to reade, In Ste Johan hys gospell.

The sewe scho wolde not Latyne heare, But rudely rushed at the freer, That blynked all his blee; And when scho wolde have takken holde, The freer leapt as I. H. S. wolde, And bealed hym wyth a tree.

Scho was brim as anie beare, For all their meete to laboure there, To thayme yt was noe boote;On tree and bushe that by her stode, Scho venged her as scho wer woode, And rave thayme up by roote.

Hee sayd, 'Alas that I wer freer, I shal bee hugged asunder here, Hard is my destinie!

Wiste my brederen, in this houre, That I was set in sike a stoure, They wolde pray for mee!'

This wicked beaste thatte wrought the woe, Tooke that rape from the other two, And than they fledd all three;They fledd away by Watling streete, They had no succour but their feete, Yt was the maire pittye.

The fielde it was both loste and wonne, The sewe wente hame, and thatte ful soone, To Morton-on-the-Greene.

When Raphe of Rokeby saw the rape, He wist that there had bin debate, Whereat the sewe had beene.

He bade thayme stand out of her waye, For scho had had a sudden fraye, -'I saw never sewe sea keene, Some new thingis shall wee heare, Of her and Myddeltone the freer, Some battel hath ther beene.'

But all that served him for nought, -

Had they not better succour sought,

They wer served therfore loe.

Then Mistress Rokebye came anon, And for her brought scho meete ful soone, The sewe cam her untoe.

Scho gav her meete upon the flower;

[Scho made a bed beneath a bower, With moss and broom besprent;The sewe was gentle as mote be, Ne rage ne ire flashed fra her e'e, Scho seemed wele content.]

FITTE THE SECONDE.

When Freer Myddeltone com home, Hys breders war ful faine ilchone, And thanked God for hys lyfe;He told thayme all unto the ende, How hee had foughten wyth a fiende, And lived thro' mickle stryfe.

'Wee gav her battel half a daye, And was faine to flee awaye For saving of oure lyfe;And Peter Dale wolde never blin, But ran as faste as he colde rinn, Till he cam till hys wyfe.'

The Warden sayde, 'I am ful woe That yow sholde bee torment soe, But wee had wyth yow beene!

Had wee bene ther, yowr breders alle, Wee wolde hav garred the warlo falle, That wrought yow all thys teene.'

Freer Myddeltone, he sayde soon, 'Naye, In faythe ye wolde hav ren awaye, When moste misstirre had bin;Ye all can speke safte wordes at home, The fiend wolde ding yow doone ilk on, An yt bee als I wene, Hee luik'd sea grizely al that nyght.'

The Warden sayde, 'Yon man wol fyght If ye saye ought but gode, Yon guest hath grieved hym sea sore;Holde your tongues, and speake ne more, Hee luiks als hee wer woode.'

The Warden waged on the morne, Two boldest men that ever wer borne, I weyne, or ere shall bee:

Tone was Gilbert Griffin sonne, Ful mickle worship hadde hee wonne, Both by land and sea.

Tother a bastard sonne of Spaine, Mony a Sarazin hadde hee slaine;Hys dint hadde garred thayme dye.

Theis men the battel undertoke Agen the sewe, as saythe the boke, And sealed securitye, That they shold boldly bide and fyghte, And scomfit her in maine and myghte, Or therfor sholde they dye.

The Warden sealed toe thayme againe, And sayde, 'If ye in fielde be slaine, This condition make I:

'Wee shall for yow praye, syng, and reade, Until Domesdaye wyth heartye speede, With al our progenie.'

Then the lettres wer wele made, The bondes wer bounde wyth seales brade, As deeds of arms sholde bee.

Theise men-at-arms thatte wer sea wight, And wyth theire armour burnished bryght, They went the sewe toe see.

Scho made at thayme sike a roare, That for her they fear it sore, And almaiste bounde to flee.

Scho cam runnyng thayme agayne, And saw the bastarde sonne of Spaine, Hee brayded owt hys brande;Ful spiteouslie at her hee strake, Yet for the fence that he colde make, Scho strake it fro hys hande, And rave asander half hys sheelde, And bare hym backwerde in the fielde, Hee mought not her gainstande.

Scho wolde hav riven hys privich geare, But Gilbert wyth hys swerde of warre, Hee strake at her ful strang.

In her shouther hee held the swerde;

Than was Gilbert sore afearde, When the blade brak in twang.