SQUYER MELDRUMIS JUSTYNG.[344]
Hary the Aucht, King of Ingland,That tyme at Caleis wes lyand,[345]With his triumphand ordinance[346],Makand weir[347]on the realme of France.The King of France his greit armieLay neir hand by in Picardie,Quhair aither uther did assaill.Howbeit thair was na sic battaill,Bot thair wes daylie skirmishing,Quhare men of armis brak monie sting[348].Quhen to the Squyer MeldrumWer tauld thir novellis[349]all and sum,He thocht he wald vesie[350]the weiris;And waillit[351]furth ane hundreth speiris,And futemen quhilk wer bauld and stout,The maist worthie of all his rout.Quhen he come to the King of FranceHe wes sone put in ordinance:Richt so was all his companieThat on him waitit continuallie.Thair was into the Inglis oist[352]Ane campioun[353]that blew greit boist.He was ane stout man and ane strang,Quhilk oist wald with his conduct gang[354]Outthrow[355]the greit armie of FranceHis valiantnes for to avance;And Maister Talbart was his name,[356]Of Scottis and Frenche quhilk spak disdane,And on his bonnet usit to beir,Of silver fine, takinnis of weir[357];And proclamatiounis he gart mak[358]That he wald, for his ladies saik,With any gentilman of FranceTo fecht[359]with him with speir or lance.Bot no Frenche-man in all that landWith him durst battell hand for hand.Than lyke ane weriour vailyeand[360]He enterit in the Scottis band:And quhen the Squyer MeldrumHard tell this campioun wes cum,Richt haistelie he past him till,Demanding him quhat was his will.“Forsuith I can find none,” quod he,“On hors nor fute dar fecht with me.”Than said he, “It wer greit schameWithout battell ye suld pass hame;Thairfoir to God I mak ane vow,The morne[361]my-self sall fecht with yowOuther on horsback or on fute.Your crakkis[362]I count thame not ane cute[363].I sall be fund into the feildArmit on hors with speir and schield.”Maister Talbart said, “My gude chyld,It wer maist lyk that thow wer wyld[364].Thow art too young, and hes no michtTo fecht with me that is so wicht[365].To speik to me thow suld have feir,For I have sik practik[366]in weirThat I wald not effeirit[367]beTo mak debait aganis sic three;For I have stand in monie stour[368],And ay defendit my honour.Thairfoir, my barne, I counsell theeSic interprysis to let be.”Than said this Squyer to the Knicht,“I grant ye ar baith greit and wicht.Young David was far les than IQuhen with Golias manfullie,Withouttin outher speir or scheild,He faucht, and slew him in the feild.I traist that God sal be my gyde,And give me grace to stanche thy pryde.Thocht thow be greit like Gowmakmorne,[369]Traist weill I sall yow meit the morne.Beside Montruill upon the greneBefoir ten houris I sal be sene.And gif ye wyn me in the feildBaith hors and geir[370]I sall yow yeild,Sa that siclyke[371]ye do to me.”“That I sall do, be God!” quod he,“And thairto I give thee my hand.”And swa betwene thame maid ane band[372]That thay suld meit upon the morne.Bot Talbart maid at him bot scorne,Lychtlyand[373]him with wordis of pryde,Syne hamewart to his oist culd ryde,And shew the brethren of his landHow ane young Scot had tane[374]on hand,To fecht with him beside Montruill;“Bot I traist he sall prufe the fuill.”Quod thay, “The morne that sall we ken[375];The Scottis are haldin hardie men.”Quod he, “I compt thame not ane cute.He sall returne upon his fute,And leif with me his armour bricht;For weill I wait[376]he has no micht,On hors nor fute, to fecht with me.”Quod thay, “The morne that sall we se.”Quhan to Monsieour De Obenie[377]Reportit was the veritie,How that the Squyer had tane on handTo fecht with Talbart hand for hand,His greit courage he did commend,Syne haistelie did for him send.And quhen he come befoir the lordThe veritie he did record,How for the honour of ScotlandThat battell he had tane on hand;“And sen it givis me in my hart,Get I ane hors to tak my part,My traist is sa, in Goddis grace,To leif hym lyand in the place.Howbeit he stalwart be and stout,My lord, of him I have no dout.”Than send the Lord out throw the land,And gat ane hundreth hors fra hand.To his presence he brocht in haist,And bad the Squyer cheis[378]him the best.Of that the Squyer was rejoisit,And cheisit the best as he suppoisit,And lap on hym delyverlie[379].Was never hors ran mair plesantlieWith speir and sword at his command,And was the best of all the land.He tuik his leif and went to rest,Syne airlie in the morne him drestWantonlie in his weirlyke weid[380],All weill enarmit, saif the heid.He lap upon his cursour wicht,And straucht[381]him in his stirroppis richt.His speir and scheild and helme wes borneWith squyeris that raid him beforne[382].Ane velvot cap on heid he bair,Ane quaif[383]of gold to heild[384]his hair.This Lord of him tuik sa greit joyThat he himself wald hym convoy,With him ane hundreth men of armes,That thair suld no man do hym harmes.The Squyer buir into his scheildAne otter in ane silver feild.His hors was bairdit[385]full richelie,Coverit with satyne cramesie[386].Than fordward raid this campiounWith sound of trumpet and clarioun,And spedilie spurrit ouir the bent[387],Lyke Mars the God armipotent.Thus leif we rydand our Squyar,And speik of Maister Talbart mair:Quhilk gat up airlie in the morrow[388],And no manner of geir to borrow,Hors, harnes, speir, nor scheild,Bot was ay reddie for the feild;And had sic practik into weir,Of our Squyer he tuik na feir,And said unto his companyeoun,Or he come furth of his pavilyeoun,“This nicht I saw into my dreame,Quhilk to reheirs I think greit schame,Me-thocht I saw cum fra the seeAne greit otter rydand to me,The quhilk was blak, with ane lang taill,And cruellie did me assail,And bait[389]me till he gart[390]me bleid,And drew me backwart fra my steid.Quhat this suld mene I cannot say,Bot I was never in sic ane fray[391].”His fellow said, “Think ye not schameFor to gif credence till ane dreame?Ye knaw it is aganis our faith,Thairfoir go dres yow in your graith[392],And think weill throw your hie courageThis day ye sall wyn vassalage.”Then drest he him into his geirWantounlie like ane man of weirQuhilk had baith hardines and fors,And lichtlie lap upon his hors.His hors was bairdit full bravelie,And coverit was richt courtfullieWith browderit[393]wark and velvot grene.Sanct George’s croce thare micht be seneOn hors, harnes, and all his geir.Than raid he furth withouttin weir[394],Convoyit with his capitaneAnd with monie ane InglismanArrayit all with armes bricht;Micht no man see ane fairer sicht.Than clariounis and trumpettis blew;And weriouris monie hither drew.On everie side come monie manTo behald quha the battell wan.The feild wes in the medow grene,Quhair everie man micht weill be sene.The heraldis put thame sa in ordourThat no man passit within the bordourNor preissit to cum within the greneBot heraldis and the campiounis kene.The ordour and the circumstanceWer lang to put in remembrance.Quhen thir twa nobilmen of weirWer weill accowterit in their geirAnd in their handis strang burdounis[395],Than trumpettis blew and clariounis,And heraldis cryit hie on hicht,“Now let tham go! God shaw the richt!”Than spedilie thay spurrit thair hors,And ran to uther with sic forsThat baith thair speiris in sindrie flaw.Than said thay all that stude on raw,Ane better cours than they twa ranWes not sene sen the warld began.Than baith the parties wer rejoisit.The campiounis ane quhyle repoisitTill they had gottin speiris new.Than with triumph the trumpettis blew,And they with all the force thay canWounder[396]rudelie at aither ran,And straik at uther with sa greit ireThat fra thair harnes flew the fyre.Thair speiris wer sa teuch[397]and strangThat aither uther to eirth doun dang[398].Baith hors and man, with speir and scheild,Than flatlingis[399]lay into the feild.Than Maister Talbart was eschamit.“Forsuith for ever I am defamit!”And said this, “I had rather dieWithout that I revengit be.”Our young Squyer, sic was his hap,Was first on fute; and on he lapUpon his hors, without support.Of that the Scottis tuke gude comfort,Quhen thay saw him sa feirelie[400]Loup on his hors sa galyeardlie[401].The Squyer liftit his visairAne lytill space to take the air.Thay bad hym wyne, and he it drank,And humillie he did thame thank.Be that Talbart on hors wes mountit,And of our Squyer lytill countit.And cryit gif he durst undertakTo run anis[402]for his ladies saik?The Squyer answerit hie on hicht,“That sall I do, be Marie bricht!I am content all day to ryn,Tyll ane of us the honour wyn.”Of that Talbart was weill content,And ane greit speir in hand he hent[403].The Squyer in his hand he thrang[404]His speir, quhilk was baith greit and lang,With ane sharp heid of grundin steill,Of quhilk he wes appleisit weill[405].That plesand feild was lang and braid,Quhair gay ordour and rowme was maid,And everie man micht have gude sicht,And thair was mony weirlyke knicht.Sum man of everie natiounWas in that congregatioun.Than trumpettis blew triumphantlie,And thai[406]twa campiounis egeirlieThai spurrit thair hors, with speir on breistPertlie to preif thair pith thay preist[407].That round, rink roume wes at utterance[408];Bot Talbartis hors with ane mischance,He outterit[409], and to ryn was laith;Quhairof Talbart was wonder wraith.The Squyer furth his rink[410]he ran,Commendit weill with everie man;And him dischargeit of his speirHonestlie lyke ane man of weir.Becaus that rink thay ran in vaneThan Talbart wald not ryn aganeTill he had gottin ane better steid;Quhilk was brocht to him with gude speid.Quhairon he lap, and tuik his speir,As brym[411]as he had bene ane beir.And bowtit[412]fordward with ane bend[413],And ran on to the rinkis end,And saw his hors was at command.Than wes he blyith, I understand,Traistand na mair to ryn in vane.Than all the trumpettis blew agane.Be that with all the force thay canThay rycht rudelie at uther ran.Of that meiting ilk[414]man thocht wounder,Quhilk soundit lyke ane crak of thunder.And nane of thame thair marrow[415]mist:Sir Talbartis speir in sunder brist,Bot the Squyer with his burdoun[416]Sir Talbart to the eirth dang doun.That straik was with sic micht and forsThat on the ground lay man and hors;And throw the brydell-hand him bair,And in the breist ane span and mair.Throw curras[417]and throw gluifis of plait,That Talbart micht mak na debait,The trencheour of the Squyeris speir.Stak still into Sir Talbartis geir.Than everie man into that steid[418]Did all beleve that he was deid.The Squyer lap rycht haistelieFrom his cursour deliverlie,And to Sir Talbart maid support,And humillie did him comfort.Quhen Talbart saw into his scheildAne otter in ane silver feild,“This race,” said he, “I may sair rew,For I see weill my dreme wes trew.Me-thocht yone otter gart me bleid,And buir me backwart from my steid.Bot heir I vow to God soveraneThat I sall never just[419]agane.”And sweitlie to the Squyer said,“Thow knawis the cunning[420]that we maid,Quhilk of us twa suld tyne[421]the feildHe suld baith hors and armour yieldTill him that wan: quhairfoir I willMy hors and harnes geve thee till.”Then said the Squyer courteouslie,“Brother, I thank yow hartfullie.Of yow forsuith nathing I crave,For I have gottin that I wald have.”With everie man he was commendit,Sa vailyeandlie he him defendit.The Capitane of the Inglis bandTuke the young Squyer be the hand,And led him to the pailyeoun[422],And gart him mak collatioun.Quhen Talbartis woundis wes bund up fastThe Inglis capitane to him past,And prudentlie did him comfort,Syne said, “Brother, I yow exhortTo tak the Squyer be the hand.”And sa he did at his command;And said, “This bene but chance of armes.”With that he braisit[423]him in his armes,Sayand, “Hartlie I yow forgeve.”And then the Squyer tuik his leve,Commendit weill with everie man.Than wichtlie[424]on his hors he wan,With monie ane nobyll man convoyit.Leve we thair Talbart sair annoyit.Some sayis of that discomfitourHe thocht sic schame and dishonourThat he departit of that land,And never wes sene into Ingland.
Hary the Aucht, King of Ingland,That tyme at Caleis wes lyand,[345]With his triumphand ordinance[346],Makand weir[347]on the realme of France.The King of France his greit armieLay neir hand by in Picardie,Quhair aither uther did assaill.Howbeit thair was na sic battaill,Bot thair wes daylie skirmishing,Quhare men of armis brak monie sting[348].Quhen to the Squyer MeldrumWer tauld thir novellis[349]all and sum,He thocht he wald vesie[350]the weiris;And waillit[351]furth ane hundreth speiris,And futemen quhilk wer bauld and stout,The maist worthie of all his rout.Quhen he come to the King of FranceHe wes sone put in ordinance:Richt so was all his companieThat on him waitit continuallie.Thair was into the Inglis oist[352]Ane campioun[353]that blew greit boist.He was ane stout man and ane strang,Quhilk oist wald with his conduct gang[354]Outthrow[355]the greit armie of FranceHis valiantnes for to avance;And Maister Talbart was his name,[356]Of Scottis and Frenche quhilk spak disdane,And on his bonnet usit to beir,Of silver fine, takinnis of weir[357];And proclamatiounis he gart mak[358]That he wald, for his ladies saik,With any gentilman of FranceTo fecht[359]with him with speir or lance.Bot no Frenche-man in all that landWith him durst battell hand for hand.Than lyke ane weriour vailyeand[360]He enterit in the Scottis band:And quhen the Squyer MeldrumHard tell this campioun wes cum,Richt haistelie he past him till,Demanding him quhat was his will.“Forsuith I can find none,” quod he,“On hors nor fute dar fecht with me.”Than said he, “It wer greit schameWithout battell ye suld pass hame;Thairfoir to God I mak ane vow,The morne[361]my-self sall fecht with yowOuther on horsback or on fute.Your crakkis[362]I count thame not ane cute[363].I sall be fund into the feildArmit on hors with speir and schield.”Maister Talbart said, “My gude chyld,It wer maist lyk that thow wer wyld[364].Thow art too young, and hes no michtTo fecht with me that is so wicht[365].To speik to me thow suld have feir,For I have sik practik[366]in weirThat I wald not effeirit[367]beTo mak debait aganis sic three;For I have stand in monie stour[368],And ay defendit my honour.Thairfoir, my barne, I counsell theeSic interprysis to let be.”Than said this Squyer to the Knicht,“I grant ye ar baith greit and wicht.Young David was far les than IQuhen with Golias manfullie,Withouttin outher speir or scheild,He faucht, and slew him in the feild.I traist that God sal be my gyde,And give me grace to stanche thy pryde.Thocht thow be greit like Gowmakmorne,[369]Traist weill I sall yow meit the morne.Beside Montruill upon the greneBefoir ten houris I sal be sene.And gif ye wyn me in the feildBaith hors and geir[370]I sall yow yeild,Sa that siclyke[371]ye do to me.”“That I sall do, be God!” quod he,“And thairto I give thee my hand.”And swa betwene thame maid ane band[372]That thay suld meit upon the morne.Bot Talbart maid at him bot scorne,Lychtlyand[373]him with wordis of pryde,Syne hamewart to his oist culd ryde,And shew the brethren of his landHow ane young Scot had tane[374]on hand,To fecht with him beside Montruill;“Bot I traist he sall prufe the fuill.”Quod thay, “The morne that sall we ken[375];The Scottis are haldin hardie men.”Quod he, “I compt thame not ane cute.He sall returne upon his fute,And leif with me his armour bricht;For weill I wait[376]he has no micht,On hors nor fute, to fecht with me.”Quod thay, “The morne that sall we se.”Quhan to Monsieour De Obenie[377]Reportit was the veritie,How that the Squyer had tane on handTo fecht with Talbart hand for hand,His greit courage he did commend,Syne haistelie did for him send.And quhen he come befoir the lordThe veritie he did record,How for the honour of ScotlandThat battell he had tane on hand;“And sen it givis me in my hart,Get I ane hors to tak my part,My traist is sa, in Goddis grace,To leif hym lyand in the place.Howbeit he stalwart be and stout,My lord, of him I have no dout.”Than send the Lord out throw the land,And gat ane hundreth hors fra hand.To his presence he brocht in haist,And bad the Squyer cheis[378]him the best.Of that the Squyer was rejoisit,And cheisit the best as he suppoisit,And lap on hym delyverlie[379].Was never hors ran mair plesantlieWith speir and sword at his command,And was the best of all the land.He tuik his leif and went to rest,Syne airlie in the morne him drestWantonlie in his weirlyke weid[380],All weill enarmit, saif the heid.He lap upon his cursour wicht,And straucht[381]him in his stirroppis richt.His speir and scheild and helme wes borneWith squyeris that raid him beforne[382].Ane velvot cap on heid he bair,Ane quaif[383]of gold to heild[384]his hair.This Lord of him tuik sa greit joyThat he himself wald hym convoy,With him ane hundreth men of armes,That thair suld no man do hym harmes.The Squyer buir into his scheildAne otter in ane silver feild.His hors was bairdit[385]full richelie,Coverit with satyne cramesie[386].Than fordward raid this campiounWith sound of trumpet and clarioun,And spedilie spurrit ouir the bent[387],Lyke Mars the God armipotent.Thus leif we rydand our Squyar,And speik of Maister Talbart mair:Quhilk gat up airlie in the morrow[388],And no manner of geir to borrow,Hors, harnes, speir, nor scheild,Bot was ay reddie for the feild;And had sic practik into weir,Of our Squyer he tuik na feir,And said unto his companyeoun,Or he come furth of his pavilyeoun,“This nicht I saw into my dreame,Quhilk to reheirs I think greit schame,Me-thocht I saw cum fra the seeAne greit otter rydand to me,The quhilk was blak, with ane lang taill,And cruellie did me assail,And bait[389]me till he gart[390]me bleid,And drew me backwart fra my steid.Quhat this suld mene I cannot say,Bot I was never in sic ane fray[391].”His fellow said, “Think ye not schameFor to gif credence till ane dreame?Ye knaw it is aganis our faith,Thairfoir go dres yow in your graith[392],And think weill throw your hie courageThis day ye sall wyn vassalage.”Then drest he him into his geirWantounlie like ane man of weirQuhilk had baith hardines and fors,And lichtlie lap upon his hors.His hors was bairdit full bravelie,And coverit was richt courtfullieWith browderit[393]wark and velvot grene.Sanct George’s croce thare micht be seneOn hors, harnes, and all his geir.Than raid he furth withouttin weir[394],Convoyit with his capitaneAnd with monie ane InglismanArrayit all with armes bricht;Micht no man see ane fairer sicht.Than clariounis and trumpettis blew;And weriouris monie hither drew.On everie side come monie manTo behald quha the battell wan.The feild wes in the medow grene,Quhair everie man micht weill be sene.The heraldis put thame sa in ordourThat no man passit within the bordourNor preissit to cum within the greneBot heraldis and the campiounis kene.The ordour and the circumstanceWer lang to put in remembrance.Quhen thir twa nobilmen of weirWer weill accowterit in their geirAnd in their handis strang burdounis[395],Than trumpettis blew and clariounis,And heraldis cryit hie on hicht,“Now let tham go! God shaw the richt!”Than spedilie thay spurrit thair hors,And ran to uther with sic forsThat baith thair speiris in sindrie flaw.Than said thay all that stude on raw,Ane better cours than they twa ranWes not sene sen the warld began.Than baith the parties wer rejoisit.The campiounis ane quhyle repoisitTill they had gottin speiris new.Than with triumph the trumpettis blew,And they with all the force thay canWounder[396]rudelie at aither ran,And straik at uther with sa greit ireThat fra thair harnes flew the fyre.Thair speiris wer sa teuch[397]and strangThat aither uther to eirth doun dang[398].Baith hors and man, with speir and scheild,Than flatlingis[399]lay into the feild.Than Maister Talbart was eschamit.“Forsuith for ever I am defamit!”And said this, “I had rather dieWithout that I revengit be.”Our young Squyer, sic was his hap,Was first on fute; and on he lapUpon his hors, without support.Of that the Scottis tuke gude comfort,Quhen thay saw him sa feirelie[400]Loup on his hors sa galyeardlie[401].The Squyer liftit his visairAne lytill space to take the air.Thay bad hym wyne, and he it drank,And humillie he did thame thank.Be that Talbart on hors wes mountit,And of our Squyer lytill countit.And cryit gif he durst undertakTo run anis[402]for his ladies saik?The Squyer answerit hie on hicht,“That sall I do, be Marie bricht!I am content all day to ryn,Tyll ane of us the honour wyn.”Of that Talbart was weill content,And ane greit speir in hand he hent[403].The Squyer in his hand he thrang[404]His speir, quhilk was baith greit and lang,With ane sharp heid of grundin steill,Of quhilk he wes appleisit weill[405].That plesand feild was lang and braid,Quhair gay ordour and rowme was maid,And everie man micht have gude sicht,And thair was mony weirlyke knicht.Sum man of everie natiounWas in that congregatioun.Than trumpettis blew triumphantlie,And thai[406]twa campiounis egeirlieThai spurrit thair hors, with speir on breistPertlie to preif thair pith thay preist[407].That round, rink roume wes at utterance[408];Bot Talbartis hors with ane mischance,He outterit[409], and to ryn was laith;Quhairof Talbart was wonder wraith.The Squyer furth his rink[410]he ran,Commendit weill with everie man;And him dischargeit of his speirHonestlie lyke ane man of weir.Becaus that rink thay ran in vaneThan Talbart wald not ryn aganeTill he had gottin ane better steid;Quhilk was brocht to him with gude speid.Quhairon he lap, and tuik his speir,As brym[411]as he had bene ane beir.And bowtit[412]fordward with ane bend[413],And ran on to the rinkis end,And saw his hors was at command.Than wes he blyith, I understand,Traistand na mair to ryn in vane.Than all the trumpettis blew agane.Be that with all the force thay canThay rycht rudelie at uther ran.Of that meiting ilk[414]man thocht wounder,Quhilk soundit lyke ane crak of thunder.And nane of thame thair marrow[415]mist:Sir Talbartis speir in sunder brist,Bot the Squyer with his burdoun[416]Sir Talbart to the eirth dang doun.That straik was with sic micht and forsThat on the ground lay man and hors;And throw the brydell-hand him bair,And in the breist ane span and mair.Throw curras[417]and throw gluifis of plait,That Talbart micht mak na debait,The trencheour of the Squyeris speir.Stak still into Sir Talbartis geir.Than everie man into that steid[418]Did all beleve that he was deid.The Squyer lap rycht haistelieFrom his cursour deliverlie,And to Sir Talbart maid support,And humillie did him comfort.Quhen Talbart saw into his scheildAne otter in ane silver feild,“This race,” said he, “I may sair rew,For I see weill my dreme wes trew.Me-thocht yone otter gart me bleid,And buir me backwart from my steid.Bot heir I vow to God soveraneThat I sall never just[419]agane.”And sweitlie to the Squyer said,“Thow knawis the cunning[420]that we maid,Quhilk of us twa suld tyne[421]the feildHe suld baith hors and armour yieldTill him that wan: quhairfoir I willMy hors and harnes geve thee till.”Then said the Squyer courteouslie,“Brother, I thank yow hartfullie.Of yow forsuith nathing I crave,For I have gottin that I wald have.”With everie man he was commendit,Sa vailyeandlie he him defendit.The Capitane of the Inglis bandTuke the young Squyer be the hand,And led him to the pailyeoun[422],And gart him mak collatioun.Quhen Talbartis woundis wes bund up fastThe Inglis capitane to him past,And prudentlie did him comfort,Syne said, “Brother, I yow exhortTo tak the Squyer be the hand.”And sa he did at his command;And said, “This bene but chance of armes.”With that he braisit[423]him in his armes,Sayand, “Hartlie I yow forgeve.”And then the Squyer tuik his leve,Commendit weill with everie man.Than wichtlie[424]on his hors he wan,With monie ane nobyll man convoyit.Leve we thair Talbart sair annoyit.Some sayis of that discomfitourHe thocht sic schame and dishonourThat he departit of that land,And never wes sene into Ingland.
Hary the Aucht, King of Ingland,That tyme at Caleis wes lyand,[345]With his triumphand ordinance[346],Makand weir[347]on the realme of France.The King of France his greit armieLay neir hand by in Picardie,Quhair aither uther did assaill.Howbeit thair was na sic battaill,Bot thair wes daylie skirmishing,Quhare men of armis brak monie sting[348].Quhen to the Squyer MeldrumWer tauld thir novellis[349]all and sum,He thocht he wald vesie[350]the weiris;And waillit[351]furth ane hundreth speiris,And futemen quhilk wer bauld and stout,The maist worthie of all his rout.Quhen he come to the King of FranceHe wes sone put in ordinance:Richt so was all his companieThat on him waitit continuallie.Thair was into the Inglis oist[352]Ane campioun[353]that blew greit boist.He was ane stout man and ane strang,Quhilk oist wald with his conduct gang[354]Outthrow[355]the greit armie of FranceHis valiantnes for to avance;And Maister Talbart was his name,[356]Of Scottis and Frenche quhilk spak disdane,And on his bonnet usit to beir,Of silver fine, takinnis of weir[357];And proclamatiounis he gart mak[358]That he wald, for his ladies saik,With any gentilman of FranceTo fecht[359]with him with speir or lance.Bot no Frenche-man in all that landWith him durst battell hand for hand.Than lyke ane weriour vailyeand[360]He enterit in the Scottis band:And quhen the Squyer MeldrumHard tell this campioun wes cum,Richt haistelie he past him till,Demanding him quhat was his will.“Forsuith I can find none,” quod he,“On hors nor fute dar fecht with me.”Than said he, “It wer greit schameWithout battell ye suld pass hame;Thairfoir to God I mak ane vow,The morne[361]my-self sall fecht with yowOuther on horsback or on fute.Your crakkis[362]I count thame not ane cute[363].I sall be fund into the feildArmit on hors with speir and schield.”Maister Talbart said, “My gude chyld,It wer maist lyk that thow wer wyld[364].Thow art too young, and hes no michtTo fecht with me that is so wicht[365].To speik to me thow suld have feir,For I have sik practik[366]in weirThat I wald not effeirit[367]beTo mak debait aganis sic three;For I have stand in monie stour[368],And ay defendit my honour.Thairfoir, my barne, I counsell theeSic interprysis to let be.”Than said this Squyer to the Knicht,“I grant ye ar baith greit and wicht.Young David was far les than IQuhen with Golias manfullie,Withouttin outher speir or scheild,He faucht, and slew him in the feild.I traist that God sal be my gyde,And give me grace to stanche thy pryde.Thocht thow be greit like Gowmakmorne,[369]Traist weill I sall yow meit the morne.Beside Montruill upon the greneBefoir ten houris I sal be sene.And gif ye wyn me in the feildBaith hors and geir[370]I sall yow yeild,Sa that siclyke[371]ye do to me.”“That I sall do, be God!” quod he,“And thairto I give thee my hand.”And swa betwene thame maid ane band[372]That thay suld meit upon the morne.Bot Talbart maid at him bot scorne,Lychtlyand[373]him with wordis of pryde,Syne hamewart to his oist culd ryde,And shew the brethren of his landHow ane young Scot had tane[374]on hand,To fecht with him beside Montruill;“Bot I traist he sall prufe the fuill.”Quod thay, “The morne that sall we ken[375];The Scottis are haldin hardie men.”Quod he, “I compt thame not ane cute.He sall returne upon his fute,And leif with me his armour bricht;For weill I wait[376]he has no micht,On hors nor fute, to fecht with me.”Quod thay, “The morne that sall we se.”Quhan to Monsieour De Obenie[377]Reportit was the veritie,How that the Squyer had tane on handTo fecht with Talbart hand for hand,His greit courage he did commend,Syne haistelie did for him send.And quhen he come befoir the lordThe veritie he did record,How for the honour of ScotlandThat battell he had tane on hand;“And sen it givis me in my hart,Get I ane hors to tak my part,My traist is sa, in Goddis grace,To leif hym lyand in the place.Howbeit he stalwart be and stout,My lord, of him I have no dout.”Than send the Lord out throw the land,And gat ane hundreth hors fra hand.To his presence he brocht in haist,And bad the Squyer cheis[378]him the best.Of that the Squyer was rejoisit,And cheisit the best as he suppoisit,And lap on hym delyverlie[379].Was never hors ran mair plesantlieWith speir and sword at his command,And was the best of all the land.He tuik his leif and went to rest,Syne airlie in the morne him drestWantonlie in his weirlyke weid[380],All weill enarmit, saif the heid.He lap upon his cursour wicht,And straucht[381]him in his stirroppis richt.His speir and scheild and helme wes borneWith squyeris that raid him beforne[382].Ane velvot cap on heid he bair,Ane quaif[383]of gold to heild[384]his hair.This Lord of him tuik sa greit joyThat he himself wald hym convoy,With him ane hundreth men of armes,That thair suld no man do hym harmes.The Squyer buir into his scheildAne otter in ane silver feild.His hors was bairdit[385]full richelie,Coverit with satyne cramesie[386].Than fordward raid this campiounWith sound of trumpet and clarioun,And spedilie spurrit ouir the bent[387],Lyke Mars the God armipotent.Thus leif we rydand our Squyar,And speik of Maister Talbart mair:Quhilk gat up airlie in the morrow[388],And no manner of geir to borrow,Hors, harnes, speir, nor scheild,Bot was ay reddie for the feild;And had sic practik into weir,Of our Squyer he tuik na feir,And said unto his companyeoun,Or he come furth of his pavilyeoun,“This nicht I saw into my dreame,Quhilk to reheirs I think greit schame,Me-thocht I saw cum fra the seeAne greit otter rydand to me,The quhilk was blak, with ane lang taill,And cruellie did me assail,And bait[389]me till he gart[390]me bleid,And drew me backwart fra my steid.Quhat this suld mene I cannot say,Bot I was never in sic ane fray[391].”His fellow said, “Think ye not schameFor to gif credence till ane dreame?Ye knaw it is aganis our faith,Thairfoir go dres yow in your graith[392],And think weill throw your hie courageThis day ye sall wyn vassalage.”Then drest he him into his geirWantounlie like ane man of weirQuhilk had baith hardines and fors,And lichtlie lap upon his hors.His hors was bairdit full bravelie,And coverit was richt courtfullieWith browderit[393]wark and velvot grene.Sanct George’s croce thare micht be seneOn hors, harnes, and all his geir.Than raid he furth withouttin weir[394],Convoyit with his capitaneAnd with monie ane InglismanArrayit all with armes bricht;Micht no man see ane fairer sicht.Than clariounis and trumpettis blew;And weriouris monie hither drew.On everie side come monie manTo behald quha the battell wan.The feild wes in the medow grene,Quhair everie man micht weill be sene.The heraldis put thame sa in ordourThat no man passit within the bordourNor preissit to cum within the greneBot heraldis and the campiounis kene.The ordour and the circumstanceWer lang to put in remembrance.Quhen thir twa nobilmen of weirWer weill accowterit in their geirAnd in their handis strang burdounis[395],Than trumpettis blew and clariounis,And heraldis cryit hie on hicht,“Now let tham go! God shaw the richt!”Than spedilie thay spurrit thair hors,And ran to uther with sic forsThat baith thair speiris in sindrie flaw.Than said thay all that stude on raw,Ane better cours than they twa ranWes not sene sen the warld began.Than baith the parties wer rejoisit.The campiounis ane quhyle repoisitTill they had gottin speiris new.Than with triumph the trumpettis blew,And they with all the force thay canWounder[396]rudelie at aither ran,And straik at uther with sa greit ireThat fra thair harnes flew the fyre.Thair speiris wer sa teuch[397]and strangThat aither uther to eirth doun dang[398].Baith hors and man, with speir and scheild,Than flatlingis[399]lay into the feild.Than Maister Talbart was eschamit.“Forsuith for ever I am defamit!”And said this, “I had rather dieWithout that I revengit be.”Our young Squyer, sic was his hap,Was first on fute; and on he lapUpon his hors, without support.Of that the Scottis tuke gude comfort,Quhen thay saw him sa feirelie[400]Loup on his hors sa galyeardlie[401].The Squyer liftit his visairAne lytill space to take the air.Thay bad hym wyne, and he it drank,And humillie he did thame thank.Be that Talbart on hors wes mountit,And of our Squyer lytill countit.And cryit gif he durst undertakTo run anis[402]for his ladies saik?The Squyer answerit hie on hicht,“That sall I do, be Marie bricht!I am content all day to ryn,Tyll ane of us the honour wyn.”Of that Talbart was weill content,And ane greit speir in hand he hent[403].The Squyer in his hand he thrang[404]His speir, quhilk was baith greit and lang,With ane sharp heid of grundin steill,Of quhilk he wes appleisit weill[405].That plesand feild was lang and braid,Quhair gay ordour and rowme was maid,And everie man micht have gude sicht,And thair was mony weirlyke knicht.Sum man of everie natiounWas in that congregatioun.Than trumpettis blew triumphantlie,And thai[406]twa campiounis egeirlieThai spurrit thair hors, with speir on breistPertlie to preif thair pith thay preist[407].That round, rink roume wes at utterance[408];Bot Talbartis hors with ane mischance,He outterit[409], and to ryn was laith;Quhairof Talbart was wonder wraith.The Squyer furth his rink[410]he ran,Commendit weill with everie man;And him dischargeit of his speirHonestlie lyke ane man of weir.Becaus that rink thay ran in vaneThan Talbart wald not ryn aganeTill he had gottin ane better steid;Quhilk was brocht to him with gude speid.Quhairon he lap, and tuik his speir,As brym[411]as he had bene ane beir.And bowtit[412]fordward with ane bend[413],And ran on to the rinkis end,And saw his hors was at command.Than wes he blyith, I understand,Traistand na mair to ryn in vane.Than all the trumpettis blew agane.Be that with all the force thay canThay rycht rudelie at uther ran.Of that meiting ilk[414]man thocht wounder,Quhilk soundit lyke ane crak of thunder.And nane of thame thair marrow[415]mist:Sir Talbartis speir in sunder brist,Bot the Squyer with his burdoun[416]Sir Talbart to the eirth dang doun.That straik was with sic micht and forsThat on the ground lay man and hors;And throw the brydell-hand him bair,And in the breist ane span and mair.Throw curras[417]and throw gluifis of plait,That Talbart micht mak na debait,The trencheour of the Squyeris speir.Stak still into Sir Talbartis geir.Than everie man into that steid[418]Did all beleve that he was deid.The Squyer lap rycht haistelieFrom his cursour deliverlie,And to Sir Talbart maid support,And humillie did him comfort.Quhen Talbart saw into his scheildAne otter in ane silver feild,“This race,” said he, “I may sair rew,For I see weill my dreme wes trew.Me-thocht yone otter gart me bleid,And buir me backwart from my steid.Bot heir I vow to God soveraneThat I sall never just[419]agane.”And sweitlie to the Squyer said,“Thow knawis the cunning[420]that we maid,Quhilk of us twa suld tyne[421]the feildHe suld baith hors and armour yieldTill him that wan: quhairfoir I willMy hors and harnes geve thee till.”Then said the Squyer courteouslie,“Brother, I thank yow hartfullie.Of yow forsuith nathing I crave,For I have gottin that I wald have.”With everie man he was commendit,Sa vailyeandlie he him defendit.The Capitane of the Inglis bandTuke the young Squyer be the hand,And led him to the pailyeoun[422],And gart him mak collatioun.Quhen Talbartis woundis wes bund up fastThe Inglis capitane to him past,And prudentlie did him comfort,Syne said, “Brother, I yow exhortTo tak the Squyer be the hand.”And sa he did at his command;And said, “This bene but chance of armes.”With that he braisit[423]him in his armes,Sayand, “Hartlie I yow forgeve.”And then the Squyer tuik his leve,Commendit weill with everie man.Than wichtlie[424]on his hors he wan,With monie ane nobyll man convoyit.Leve we thair Talbart sair annoyit.Some sayis of that discomfitourHe thocht sic schame and dishonourThat he departit of that land,And never wes sene into Ingland.
Hary the Aucht, King of Ingland,
That tyme at Caleis wes lyand,[345]
With his triumphand ordinance[346],
Makand weir[347]on the realme of France.
The King of France his greit armie
Lay neir hand by in Picardie,
Quhair aither uther did assaill.
Howbeit thair was na sic battaill,
Bot thair wes daylie skirmishing,
Quhare men of armis brak monie sting[348].
Quhen to the Squyer Meldrum
Wer tauld thir novellis[349]all and sum,
He thocht he wald vesie[350]the weiris;
And waillit[351]furth ane hundreth speiris,
And futemen quhilk wer bauld and stout,
The maist worthie of all his rout.
Quhen he come to the King of France
He wes sone put in ordinance:
Richt so was all his companie
That on him waitit continuallie.
Thair was into the Inglis oist[352]
Ane campioun[353]that blew greit boist.
He was ane stout man and ane strang,
Quhilk oist wald with his conduct gang[354]
Outthrow[355]the greit armie of France
His valiantnes for to avance;
And Maister Talbart was his name,[356]
Of Scottis and Frenche quhilk spak disdane,
And on his bonnet usit to beir,
Of silver fine, takinnis of weir[357];
And proclamatiounis he gart mak[358]
That he wald, for his ladies saik,
With any gentilman of France
To fecht[359]with him with speir or lance.
Bot no Frenche-man in all that land
With him durst battell hand for hand.
Than lyke ane weriour vailyeand[360]
He enterit in the Scottis band:
And quhen the Squyer Meldrum
Hard tell this campioun wes cum,
Richt haistelie he past him till,
Demanding him quhat was his will.
“Forsuith I can find none,” quod he,
“On hors nor fute dar fecht with me.”
Than said he, “It wer greit schame
Without battell ye suld pass hame;
Thairfoir to God I mak ane vow,
The morne[361]my-self sall fecht with yow
Outher on horsback or on fute.
Your crakkis[362]I count thame not ane cute[363].
I sall be fund into the feild
Armit on hors with speir and schield.”
Maister Talbart said, “My gude chyld,
It wer maist lyk that thow wer wyld[364].
Thow art too young, and hes no micht
To fecht with me that is so wicht[365].
To speik to me thow suld have feir,
For I have sik practik[366]in weir
That I wald not effeirit[367]be
To mak debait aganis sic three;
For I have stand in monie stour[368],
And ay defendit my honour.
Thairfoir, my barne, I counsell thee
Sic interprysis to let be.”
Than said this Squyer to the Knicht,
“I grant ye ar baith greit and wicht.
Young David was far les than I
Quhen with Golias manfullie,
Withouttin outher speir or scheild,
He faucht, and slew him in the feild.
I traist that God sal be my gyde,
And give me grace to stanche thy pryde.
Thocht thow be greit like Gowmakmorne,[369]
Traist weill I sall yow meit the morne.
Beside Montruill upon the grene
Befoir ten houris I sal be sene.
And gif ye wyn me in the feild
Baith hors and geir[370]I sall yow yeild,
Sa that siclyke[371]ye do to me.”
“That I sall do, be God!” quod he,
“And thairto I give thee my hand.”
And swa betwene thame maid ane band[372]
That thay suld meit upon the morne.
Bot Talbart maid at him bot scorne,
Lychtlyand[373]him with wordis of pryde,
Syne hamewart to his oist culd ryde,
And shew the brethren of his land
How ane young Scot had tane[374]on hand,
To fecht with him beside Montruill;
“Bot I traist he sall prufe the fuill.”
Quod thay, “The morne that sall we ken[375];
The Scottis are haldin hardie men.”
Quod he, “I compt thame not ane cute.
He sall returne upon his fute,
And leif with me his armour bricht;
For weill I wait[376]he has no micht,
On hors nor fute, to fecht with me.”
Quod thay, “The morne that sall we se.”
Quhan to Monsieour De Obenie[377]
Reportit was the veritie,
How that the Squyer had tane on hand
To fecht with Talbart hand for hand,
His greit courage he did commend,
Syne haistelie did for him send.
And quhen he come befoir the lord
The veritie he did record,
How for the honour of Scotland
That battell he had tane on hand;
“And sen it givis me in my hart,
Get I ane hors to tak my part,
My traist is sa, in Goddis grace,
To leif hym lyand in the place.
Howbeit he stalwart be and stout,
My lord, of him I have no dout.”
Than send the Lord out throw the land,
And gat ane hundreth hors fra hand.
To his presence he brocht in haist,
And bad the Squyer cheis[378]him the best.
Of that the Squyer was rejoisit,
And cheisit the best as he suppoisit,
And lap on hym delyverlie[379].
Was never hors ran mair plesantlie
With speir and sword at his command,
And was the best of all the land.
He tuik his leif and went to rest,
Syne airlie in the morne him drest
Wantonlie in his weirlyke weid[380],
All weill enarmit, saif the heid.
He lap upon his cursour wicht,
And straucht[381]him in his stirroppis richt.
His speir and scheild and helme wes borne
With squyeris that raid him beforne[382].
Ane velvot cap on heid he bair,
Ane quaif[383]of gold to heild[384]his hair.
This Lord of him tuik sa greit joy
That he himself wald hym convoy,
With him ane hundreth men of armes,
That thair suld no man do hym harmes.
The Squyer buir into his scheild
Ane otter in ane silver feild.
His hors was bairdit[385]full richelie,
Coverit with satyne cramesie[386].
Than fordward raid this campioun
With sound of trumpet and clarioun,
And spedilie spurrit ouir the bent[387],
Lyke Mars the God armipotent.
Thus leif we rydand our Squyar,
And speik of Maister Talbart mair:
Quhilk gat up airlie in the morrow[388],
And no manner of geir to borrow,
Hors, harnes, speir, nor scheild,
Bot was ay reddie for the feild;
And had sic practik into weir,
Of our Squyer he tuik na feir,
And said unto his companyeoun,
Or he come furth of his pavilyeoun,
“This nicht I saw into my dreame,
Quhilk to reheirs I think greit schame,
Me-thocht I saw cum fra the see
Ane greit otter rydand to me,
The quhilk was blak, with ane lang taill,
And cruellie did me assail,
And bait[389]me till he gart[390]me bleid,
And drew me backwart fra my steid.
Quhat this suld mene I cannot say,
Bot I was never in sic ane fray[391].”
His fellow said, “Think ye not schame
For to gif credence till ane dreame?
Ye knaw it is aganis our faith,
Thairfoir go dres yow in your graith[392],
And think weill throw your hie courage
This day ye sall wyn vassalage.”
Then drest he him into his geir
Wantounlie like ane man of weir
Quhilk had baith hardines and fors,
And lichtlie lap upon his hors.
His hors was bairdit full bravelie,
And coverit was richt courtfullie
With browderit[393]wark and velvot grene.
Sanct George’s croce thare micht be sene
On hors, harnes, and all his geir.
Than raid he furth withouttin weir[394],
Convoyit with his capitane
And with monie ane Inglisman
Arrayit all with armes bricht;
Micht no man see ane fairer sicht.
Than clariounis and trumpettis blew;
And weriouris monie hither drew.
On everie side come monie man
To behald quha the battell wan.
The feild wes in the medow grene,
Quhair everie man micht weill be sene.
The heraldis put thame sa in ordour
That no man passit within the bordour
Nor preissit to cum within the grene
Bot heraldis and the campiounis kene.
The ordour and the circumstance
Wer lang to put in remembrance.
Quhen thir twa nobilmen of weir
Wer weill accowterit in their geir
And in their handis strang burdounis[395],
Than trumpettis blew and clariounis,
And heraldis cryit hie on hicht,
“Now let tham go! God shaw the richt!”
Than spedilie thay spurrit thair hors,
And ran to uther with sic fors
That baith thair speiris in sindrie flaw.
Than said thay all that stude on raw,
Ane better cours than they twa ran
Wes not sene sen the warld began.
Than baith the parties wer rejoisit.
The campiounis ane quhyle repoisit
Till they had gottin speiris new.
Than with triumph the trumpettis blew,
And they with all the force thay can
Wounder[396]rudelie at aither ran,
And straik at uther with sa greit ire
That fra thair harnes flew the fyre.
Thair speiris wer sa teuch[397]and strang
That aither uther to eirth doun dang[398].
Baith hors and man, with speir and scheild,
Than flatlingis[399]lay into the feild.
Than Maister Talbart was eschamit.
“Forsuith for ever I am defamit!”
And said this, “I had rather die
Without that I revengit be.”
Our young Squyer, sic was his hap,
Was first on fute; and on he lap
Upon his hors, without support.
Of that the Scottis tuke gude comfort,
Quhen thay saw him sa feirelie[400]
Loup on his hors sa galyeardlie[401].
The Squyer liftit his visair
Ane lytill space to take the air.
Thay bad hym wyne, and he it drank,
And humillie he did thame thank.
Be that Talbart on hors wes mountit,
And of our Squyer lytill countit.
And cryit gif he durst undertak
To run anis[402]for his ladies saik?
The Squyer answerit hie on hicht,
“That sall I do, be Marie bricht!
I am content all day to ryn,
Tyll ane of us the honour wyn.”
Of that Talbart was weill content,
And ane greit speir in hand he hent[403].
The Squyer in his hand he thrang[404]
His speir, quhilk was baith greit and lang,
With ane sharp heid of grundin steill,
Of quhilk he wes appleisit weill[405].
That plesand feild was lang and braid,
Quhair gay ordour and rowme was maid,
And everie man micht have gude sicht,
And thair was mony weirlyke knicht.
Sum man of everie natioun
Was in that congregatioun.
Than trumpettis blew triumphantlie,
And thai[406]twa campiounis egeirlie
Thai spurrit thair hors, with speir on breist
Pertlie to preif thair pith thay preist[407].
That round, rink roume wes at utterance[408];
Bot Talbartis hors with ane mischance,
He outterit[409], and to ryn was laith;
Quhairof Talbart was wonder wraith.
The Squyer furth his rink[410]he ran,
Commendit weill with everie man;
And him dischargeit of his speir
Honestlie lyke ane man of weir.
Becaus that rink thay ran in vane
Than Talbart wald not ryn agane
Till he had gottin ane better steid;
Quhilk was brocht to him with gude speid.
Quhairon he lap, and tuik his speir,
As brym[411]as he had bene ane beir.
And bowtit[412]fordward with ane bend[413],
And ran on to the rinkis end,
And saw his hors was at command.
Than wes he blyith, I understand,
Traistand na mair to ryn in vane.
Than all the trumpettis blew agane.
Be that with all the force thay can
Thay rycht rudelie at uther ran.
Of that meiting ilk[414]man thocht wounder,
Quhilk soundit lyke ane crak of thunder.
And nane of thame thair marrow[415]mist:
Sir Talbartis speir in sunder brist,
Bot the Squyer with his burdoun[416]
Sir Talbart to the eirth dang doun.
That straik was with sic micht and fors
That on the ground lay man and hors;
And throw the brydell-hand him bair,
And in the breist ane span and mair.
Throw curras[417]and throw gluifis of plait,
That Talbart micht mak na debait,
The trencheour of the Squyeris speir.
Stak still into Sir Talbartis geir.
Than everie man into that steid[418]
Did all beleve that he was deid.
The Squyer lap rycht haistelie
From his cursour deliverlie,
And to Sir Talbart maid support,
And humillie did him comfort.
Quhen Talbart saw into his scheild
Ane otter in ane silver feild,
“This race,” said he, “I may sair rew,
For I see weill my dreme wes trew.
Me-thocht yone otter gart me bleid,
And buir me backwart from my steid.
Bot heir I vow to God soverane
That I sall never just[419]agane.”
And sweitlie to the Squyer said,
“Thow knawis the cunning[420]that we maid,
Quhilk of us twa suld tyne[421]the feild
He suld baith hors and armour yield
Till him that wan: quhairfoir I will
My hors and harnes geve thee till.”
Then said the Squyer courteouslie,
“Brother, I thank yow hartfullie.
Of yow forsuith nathing I crave,
For I have gottin that I wald have.”
With everie man he was commendit,
Sa vailyeandlie he him defendit.
The Capitane of the Inglis band
Tuke the young Squyer be the hand,
And led him to the pailyeoun[422],
And gart him mak collatioun.
Quhen Talbartis woundis wes bund up fast
The Inglis capitane to him past,
And prudentlie did him comfort,
Syne said, “Brother, I yow exhort
To tak the Squyer be the hand.”
And sa he did at his command;
And said, “This bene but chance of armes.”
With that he braisit[423]him in his armes,
Sayand, “Hartlie I yow forgeve.”
And then the Squyer tuik his leve,
Commendit weill with everie man.
Than wichtlie[424]on his hors he wan,
With monie ane nobyll man convoyit.
Leve we thair Talbart sair annoyit.
Some sayis of that discomfitour
He thocht sic schame and dishonour
That he departit of that land,
And never wes sene into Ingland.