[Fol. 204, col. 1.]Hearken!Herknet to me, gode men,Wiues, maydnes, and alle men,Of a tale þat ich you wile telle,4Wo so it wile here, and þer-to duelle.I will tell you the tale of Havelok,Þe tale is of hauelok i-maked;Wil he was litel he yede ful naked:Hauelok was a ful god gome,8He was ful god in eueri trome,9a wight man at need.He was þe wicteste manat nede,Þat þurte ridenon ani stede.Þat ye mowen nou y-here,12And þe tale ye mowen y-lere.At the beginning1of vre tale,First, fill me a cup of ale.Fil me a cuppe of ful god ale;15And [y] wile drinken her y spelle,16Þat crist vs shilde alle fro helle!Krist late vs heuere so for to do,Christ grant we may do right!Þat we moten comen him to,19And wit[e]2þat it mote ben so!20Benedicamus domino!Here y schal biginnen a rym,Krist us yeue wel god fyn!The rime is about Havelok.The rym is maked of hauelok,24A stalworþi man ina flok;He was þe stalworþeste manat nede,Þat may riden on ani stede.1MS. Beginnig.2Seell. 517, 1316.THE GOOD KING ATHELWOLD IS KING OVER ALL ENGLAND.There was once a king who made good laws.IT was a king bi are dawes,28That inhis time were gode lawesHe dede maken, an ful wel holden;Hym louede yung, him louede holde,31Erl and barun, dreng and kayn,32Knict, bondeman, and swain,All loved him.Wydues, maydnes, prestes and clerkes,And al for hise gode werkes.He louede god with al his micth,36And holi kirke, and soth, ant ricth;Ricth-wise3man he louede alle,And oueral made hem forto calle;He hated traitors and robbers.Wreieres and wrobberes made he falle,40And hated hemso mandoth galle;Vtlawes and theues made he bynde,Alle that he micthe fynde,And heye hengen on galwe-tre;44For hem ne yede gold ne fe.45At that time, men could carry gold about safely,In that time a man þat bore[Wel fyfty pund, y woth, or more,]4[Fol. 204, col. 2.]Ofred[e]gold up-on hijs bac,48In a male with or blac,Ne funde he non that him misseyde,N[e] with iuele on [him] hond leyde.Þanne micthe chapmenfare52Þuruth englond wit here ware,and boldly buy and sell.And baldelike beye and sellen,Oueral þer he wilen dwellen,In gode burwes, and þer-fram56Ne fundenhe non þat dede hemsham,Þat he ne werensone to sorwe brouth,An pouere maked, and browt to nouth.Þanne was engelond at hayse;5Then was England at ease.60Michel was svich a king to preyse,Þat held so eng[e]lond in grith!Krist of heuene was him with.He was engelondes blome;64Was non so bold lond to rome,Þat durste upon his [menie] bringheHunger, ne here*wicke þinghe.Hwan he felede hise foos,The king made his foes hide themselves.68He made hemlurken, and crepenin wros:Þe hiddenhemalle, and heldenhemstille,And diden al his herte wille.Ricth he louede of alle þinge,72To wronge micht himno man bringe,Ne for siluer, ne for gold:—So was he his soule†hold.He befriended the fatherless.To þe faderles was he rath,76Wo so dede hem wrong or lath,Were it clerc, or were it knicth,He dede hem sone to hauenricth;And wo [so] diden‡widuen wrong,80Were he neure knicth so strong,Þat he ne made himsone kesten,And in feteres ful faste festen;Them who wrought shame he punished.And wo so dide maydne shame84Of hire bodi, or brouth inblame,Bute it were bi hire wille,He6made himsone of limes spille.He was te7beste knith at nede,88Þat heuere micthe ridenon stede,Or wepne wagge, or folc vt lede;Of knith ne hauede he neuere drede,91Þat he ne sprong forth so sparke of glede,[Fol. 204b, col. 1.]92And lete him [knawe] of hise hand-dede,Hw he couþe with wepne spede;He made his foes cry for mercy.And oþer he refte himhors or wede,Or made him sone handes sprede,96And “louerd, merci!” loude grede.He was large, and no wicth gnede;Hauede he non so god brede,Ne on his bord nonso god shrede,He fed the poor.100Þat he ne wolde þorwit fede,Poure þat on fote yede;Forto hauenof him þe medeÞat for vs wolde on rode blede,104Crist, that al kan wisse and rede,Þat euere woneth inani þede.3MS. “Rirth wise.”4Supplied from conjecture. Cf. v. 653, 787. A few more instances will be found where a similar liberty has been taken, for the purpose of completing the sense.5MS. athayse.*For the MS. readinghereMr Garnett proposed to readothere, which is clearly right.†Forhis soule(as in the MS.) we should probably readof his soule.‡Forwo diden(as in the MS.) we should readwo so dide.6MS. Ke.7MS. Ke waste.ATHELWOLD IS ABOUT TO DIE.His name was Athelwold.¶ Þe king was hoten aþelwold,Of word, of wepne he was bold;108In engeland was neure knicth,Þat betere hel þe lond to ricth.110He had but a young daughter to succeed him.Of his bodi ne hauede he eyrBute a mayden swiþe fayr,112Þat was so yung þat sho ne couþeGon on fote, ne speke wit mouþe.Þan him tok an iuel strong,Þat he we[l] wiste, and under-fong,He feels he is dying, and says,116Þat his deth was comenhim on:And seyde, “crist, wat shal y don!118Louerd, wat shal me to rede!I woth ful wel ich haue mi mede.120W shal nou mi douhter fare?“I am in trouble about her.Of hire haue ich michel kare;Sho is mikel in mi þouth,Of me self is me rith nowt.124No selcouth is, þou me be wo;Sho ne kanspeke, ne sho kan go.Were she but of age,Yif scho couþe on horse ride,And a thousande menbi hire syde;128And sho were comenintil helde,And engelond sho couþe welde;130And don hem of þar hire were queme,An hire bodi couþe yeme;132No wolde me neuere iuele likeI would not care for myself.”Me þou ich were inheuene-riche!”HE SUMMONS HIS LORDS TO WINCHESTER.Quanne he hauede þis pleinte maked,Þer-after stronglike [he] quaked.136He sende writes sone on-on[Fol. 204b, col. 2.]After his erles euere-ich on;He summons his lords, from Roxburgh to Dover.And after hise baruns, riche and poure,Fro rokesburw al into douere,140That he shuldencomen swiþeTil him, that was ful vnbliþe;To þat stede þe[r] he lay,In harde bondes, nicth and day.144He was so faste wit yuel fest,Þat he ne mouthe hauenno rest;He can no longer eat.He ne mouthe no mete hete,Ne he ne mouchte no lyþe gete;148Ne non of his iuel þat couþe red;Of him ne was nouth butended.All sadly obey his summons.Alle þat the writes herden,Sorful an sori til him ferden;152He wrungen hondes, and wepensore,And yerne preydencristes hore,Þat he [wolde] turnen himVt of þat yuel þat was so grim!156Þanne he weren comen alleThey come to Winchester.Bifor þe king into the halle,At winchestre þer he lay:“Welcome,” he seyde, “be ye ay!160Ful michel þank[e] kan [y] yowThat ye aren comento me now!”ATHELWOLD SELECTS EARL GODRICH TO BE HIS DAUGHTER’S GUARDIAN.They all mourn and lament.Quanne he werenalle set,And þe king aueden i-gret,164He greten, and gouleden, and gouenhemille,And he bad hemalle ben stille;And seyde, “þat greting helpeth nouth,For al to dede am ich brouth.168Bute nov ye sen þat i shal deye,He prays them to tell him who can guard his daughter best.Nou ich wille you alle preyeOf mi douther þat shal beYure leuedi after me,172Wo may yemenhire so longe,Boþen hire and engelonde,Til þat she [mowe] winan of helde,175And þa she mowe yemenand welde?”176He ansuereden, and seydenan-on,They answer, “Earl Godrich of Cornwall.”Bi crist*and bi seint ion,That þerl Godrigh of cornwayleWas trewe man, wit-utenfaile;180Wis manof red, wis manof dede,And menhauedenof himmikel drede.[Fol. 205, col. 1.]“He may hire alþer-best[e] yeme,Til þat she mowe wel benquene.”*Read— “Bi [ihesu] crist,” &c, to fill up; but this is doubtful; see l. 1112.184Þe king was payed of that Rede;The king sends for chalice and paten,A wol fair cloth bringenhe dede,And þer-on leyde þe messebok,Þe caliz, and þe pateyn ok,188Þe corporaus, þe messe-gere;189Þer-on he garte þe erl suere,for the earl to swear upon.Þat he sholde yemen hire wel,With-utenlac, wit-utentel,192Til þat she were tuelf8winter hold,And of speche were bold;And þat she covþe of curteysye,His daughter is to marry the best and fairest man that can be found.Gon, and speken of luue-drurye;196And til þat she louen þoucte,9Wom so hire to gode thoucte;And þat he shulde hire yeueÞe beste manthat micthe liue,200Þe beste, fayreste, the strangest ok:—Þat dede he him sweren on þe bok.And þanne shulde he engelondAl bitechen in-to hire hond.8Qu.tuenti. Cf. v. 259.9MS. mithe. But see l. 257.204Quanne10þat was sworn on his wise,He gives up all England to the earl, to keep for her.Þe king dede þe maydenarise,And þe erl hire bitaucte,And al the lond he euere awcte;208Engelonde eueri del;And preide, he shulde yeme hire wel.10MS. Ouanne. And perhaps “his” should have been “þis.”Þe king ne mowcte don no more,But yerne preyede godes ore;212And dede him hoslenwel and shriue,The king does penance.I woth, fif hundred siþes and fiue;An ofte dede him sore swinge,And wit hondes smerte dinge;216So þat þe blod ran of his fleys,Þat tendre was, and swiþe neys.11And sone gaf it euere-il del;He made his quiste swiþe wel.He makes his will.220Wan it was gouen, ne micte menfindeSo mikel menmicte himin winde,Of his inarke, ne in chiste,In engelond þat nomanwiste:224For al was youen, faire and wel,Þat him was leued no catel.11Some lines appear to be wanting here, such as—“He þoucte his quiste þan to make,His catel muste he wel bitake,” &c.KING ATHELWOLD DIES.Þanne he hauede benofte swngen,[Fol. 205, col. 2.]Ofte shriuen, and ofte dungen,228“In manustuas, lou[er]de,” he seyde,Her þat he þe speche leyde.The king dies.To ihesu crist bigan to calle,And deyede biforn his heymenalle.232Þan he was ded, þere micte menseÞe meste sorwe that micte be;Þer was sobbing, siking, and sor,Handes wringing, and drawing bi hor.All mourn for him.236Alle greten swiþe sore,Riche and poure þat þere wore;An mikel sorwe hauedenalle,Leuedyes inboure, knictes inhalle.240Quan þat sorwe was somdel laten,And he hauedenlonge graten,Masses are sung for him.Belles dedenhe sone ringen,Monkes and prestes messe singen;244And sauteres deden he manie reden,Þat god self shulde his soule ledenInto heuene, biforn his sone,And þer wit-uten hende wone.He is buried and the earl takes possession,248Þan he was to þe erþe brouth,Þe riche erl ne foryat nouth,Þat he ne dede al engelondSone sayse intil his hond;252And in þe castels leth he12doÞe knictes he micte tristento;And alle þe englis dede he swere[n],Þat he shuldenhim ghod fey baren;till the maiden is twenty years old.256He yaf alle men, þat god þoucte,Liuen and deyen til þat him moucte,13Til þat þe kinges dowter woreTuenti winterhold, and more.12Sir F. Madden printed “lechhe”; but the MS. may be read “leth he.”13So in MS. But the sense requires“He gaf alle men, þat godhimþouchte,Liuen and deyen til þathemouete,” &c.EARL GODRICH TAKES POSSESSION.260Þanne he hauede takenþis othOf erles, baruns, lef and loth,Of knictes, cherles, fre and þewe,Earl Godrich appoints justices, sheriffs, &c.263Justises dede he maken newe,264Al engelond to faren þorw,Fro douere into rokesborw.Schireues he sette, bedels, and greyues,Grith-sergeans, wit longe gleyues,268To yemenwilde wodes and paþesFro wicke men, that wolde don scaþes;And forto hauenalle at his cri,At his wille, at his merci;[Fol. 205b, col. 1.]272Þat non durste benhim ageyn,Erl ne baron, knict ne sweyn.He grows very rich,Wislike for soth, was him welOf folc, of wepne, of catel,276Soþlike, in a lite þraweAl engelond of him stod [in] awe;and all England fears him.Al engelond was of him adrad,14So his þe beste fro þe gad.14MS. “adred,” altered to “adrad.”The maiden grows up very fair.280Þe kinges douther bigan þriue,And wex þe fayrest wmanon liue.Of alle þewes w[as] she wis,Þat gode weren, and of pris.Her name is Goldborough.284Þe mayden Goldeboru was hoten;For hire was mani a ter igroten.GODRICH PLOTS AGAINST HIS WARD.Quanne the Erl godrich him herdeOf þat mayden, hw we[l s]he ferde;288Hw wis sho was, w chaste, hw fayr,And þat sho was þe rithe eyrOf engelond, of al þe rike:—Godrich is vexed.Þo bigan godrich to sike,292And seyde, “weþer she sholde beQuen and leuedi ouer me?Hweþer sho sholde al engelond,And me, and mine, hauenin hire hond?296Daþeit hwo it hire thaue!Shal sho it neuere more haue.“Shall I give England to a fool, a girl?Sholde ic yeue a fol, a þerne,Engelond, þou sho it yerne?300Daþeit hwo it hire yeue,Euere more hwil i liue!Sho is waxen al to prud,For gode metes, and noble shrud,304Þat hic haue youen hire to offte;Hic haue yemed hire to softe.Shal it nouth ben als sho þenkes,‘Hope maketh fol manofte blenkes.’My son shall have England.308Ich haue a sone, a ful fayr knaue,He shal engelond al haue.He shal [ben] king, he shal ben sire,So brouke i euere mi blake swire!”312Hwan þis trayson was al þouth,He lets his oath go for nothing.Of his oth ne was him nouth.He let his oth al ouer-ga,Þerof ne yaf he nouth a stra;316But sone dede hire fete,[Fol. 205b, col. 2.]Er he wolde hetenani mete,Fro winchestre þer sho was,Also a wicke traytur iudas;He sends the maiden to Dover.320And dede ledenhire to doure,Þat standeth on þe seis oure;And þerhinne dede hire fedePourelike in feble wede,He shuts her up in the castle.324Þe castel dede he yemen so,Þat non ne micte comenhire toOf hire frend, with [hire] to speken,Þat heuere micte hire bale wreken.328Of Goldeborushul we nou laten,Þat nouth ne blinneth forto graten,Þet sho liggeth in prisoun:May Christ release Goldborough from prison!Ihesu crist, that lazarun332To liue broucte fro dede bondes,He lese hire wit hise hondes;And leue sho mo him y-seHeye hangen on galwe tre,336Þat hire haued insorwe brouth,So as sho ne misdede nouth!BIRKABEYN IS KING OF DENMARK.338Sawe nou forth inhure spelle;At that time there was a king of Denmark, called Birkabeyn.In þat time, so it bifelle,340Was in þe lon of denemarkA riche king, and swyþe stark.Þ[e] name of him was birkabeyn,He hauede mani knict and sueyn;344He was fayr man, and wicth,Of bodi he was þe beste knicthÞat euere micte ledenuth here,Or stede onne ride, or handlen spere,He had three children.348Þre children he hauede bi his wif,He hem louede so his lif.He hauede a sone [and] douhtres two,Swiþe fayre, as fel it so.352He þat wile non forbere,Riche ne poure; king ne kaysere,Death came upon him.Deth him tok þanhe bes[t] woldeLiuen, but hyse dayes were fulde;356Þat he ne moucte no more liue,For gol ne siluer, ne for no gyue.He sends for the priests.Hwanhe þat wiste, raþe he sendeAfter prestes fer an hende,360Chanounes gode, and monkes beþe,15Him for to16wisse, and to Rede;[Fol. 206, col. 1.]Him for to hoslon, an forto shriue,Hwil his bodi were on liue.
[Fol. 204, col. 1.]Hearken!Herknet to me, gode men,Wiues, maydnes, and alle men,Of a tale þat ich you wile telle,4Wo so it wile here, and þer-to duelle.I will tell you the tale of Havelok,Þe tale is of hauelok i-maked;Wil he was litel he yede ful naked:Hauelok was a ful god gome,8He was ful god in eueri trome,9a wight man at need.He was þe wicteste manat nede,Þat þurte ridenon ani stede.Þat ye mowen nou y-here,12And þe tale ye mowen y-lere.At the beginning1of vre tale,First, fill me a cup of ale.Fil me a cuppe of ful god ale;15And [y] wile drinken her y spelle,16Þat crist vs shilde alle fro helle!Krist late vs heuere so for to do,Christ grant we may do right!Þat we moten comen him to,19And wit[e]2þat it mote ben so!20Benedicamus domino!Here y schal biginnen a rym,Krist us yeue wel god fyn!The rime is about Havelok.The rym is maked of hauelok,24A stalworþi man ina flok;He was þe stalworþeste manat nede,Þat may riden on ani stede.1MS. Beginnig.2Seell. 517, 1316.THE GOOD KING ATHELWOLD IS KING OVER ALL ENGLAND.There was once a king who made good laws.IT was a king bi are dawes,28That inhis time were gode lawesHe dede maken, an ful wel holden;Hym louede yung, him louede holde,31Erl and barun, dreng and kayn,32Knict, bondeman, and swain,All loved him.Wydues, maydnes, prestes and clerkes,And al for hise gode werkes.He louede god with al his micth,36And holi kirke, and soth, ant ricth;Ricth-wise3man he louede alle,And oueral made hem forto calle;He hated traitors and robbers.Wreieres and wrobberes made he falle,40And hated hemso mandoth galle;Vtlawes and theues made he bynde,Alle that he micthe fynde,And heye hengen on galwe-tre;44For hem ne yede gold ne fe.45At that time, men could carry gold about safely,In that time a man þat bore[Wel fyfty pund, y woth, or more,]4[Fol. 204, col. 2.]Ofred[e]gold up-on hijs bac,48In a male with or blac,Ne funde he non that him misseyde,N[e] with iuele on [him] hond leyde.Þanne micthe chapmenfare52Þuruth englond wit here ware,and boldly buy and sell.And baldelike beye and sellen,Oueral þer he wilen dwellen,In gode burwes, and þer-fram56Ne fundenhe non þat dede hemsham,Þat he ne werensone to sorwe brouth,An pouere maked, and browt to nouth.Þanne was engelond at hayse;5Then was England at ease.60Michel was svich a king to preyse,Þat held so eng[e]lond in grith!Krist of heuene was him with.He was engelondes blome;64Was non so bold lond to rome,Þat durste upon his [menie] bringheHunger, ne here*wicke þinghe.Hwan he felede hise foos,The king made his foes hide themselves.68He made hemlurken, and crepenin wros:Þe hiddenhemalle, and heldenhemstille,And diden al his herte wille.Ricth he louede of alle þinge,72To wronge micht himno man bringe,Ne for siluer, ne for gold:—So was he his soule†hold.He befriended the fatherless.To þe faderles was he rath,76Wo so dede hem wrong or lath,Were it clerc, or were it knicth,He dede hem sone to hauenricth;And wo [so] diden‡widuen wrong,80Were he neure knicth so strong,Þat he ne made himsone kesten,And in feteres ful faste festen;Them who wrought shame he punished.And wo so dide maydne shame84Of hire bodi, or brouth inblame,Bute it were bi hire wille,He6made himsone of limes spille.He was te7beste knith at nede,88Þat heuere micthe ridenon stede,Or wepne wagge, or folc vt lede;Of knith ne hauede he neuere drede,91Þat he ne sprong forth so sparke of glede,[Fol. 204b, col. 1.]92And lete him [knawe] of hise hand-dede,Hw he couþe with wepne spede;He made his foes cry for mercy.And oþer he refte himhors or wede,Or made him sone handes sprede,96And “louerd, merci!” loude grede.He was large, and no wicth gnede;Hauede he non so god brede,Ne on his bord nonso god shrede,He fed the poor.100Þat he ne wolde þorwit fede,Poure þat on fote yede;Forto hauenof him þe medeÞat for vs wolde on rode blede,104Crist, that al kan wisse and rede,Þat euere woneth inani þede.3MS. “Rirth wise.”4Supplied from conjecture. Cf. v. 653, 787. A few more instances will be found where a similar liberty has been taken, for the purpose of completing the sense.5MS. athayse.*For the MS. readinghereMr Garnett proposed to readothere, which is clearly right.†Forhis soule(as in the MS.) we should probably readof his soule.‡Forwo diden(as in the MS.) we should readwo so dide.6MS. Ke.7MS. Ke waste.ATHELWOLD IS ABOUT TO DIE.His name was Athelwold.¶ Þe king was hoten aþelwold,Of word, of wepne he was bold;108In engeland was neure knicth,Þat betere hel þe lond to ricth.110He had but a young daughter to succeed him.Of his bodi ne hauede he eyrBute a mayden swiþe fayr,112Þat was so yung þat sho ne couþeGon on fote, ne speke wit mouþe.Þan him tok an iuel strong,Þat he we[l] wiste, and under-fong,He feels he is dying, and says,116Þat his deth was comenhim on:And seyde, “crist, wat shal y don!118Louerd, wat shal me to rede!I woth ful wel ich haue mi mede.120W shal nou mi douhter fare?“I am in trouble about her.Of hire haue ich michel kare;Sho is mikel in mi þouth,Of me self is me rith nowt.124No selcouth is, þou me be wo;Sho ne kanspeke, ne sho kan go.Were she but of age,Yif scho couþe on horse ride,And a thousande menbi hire syde;128And sho were comenintil helde,And engelond sho couþe welde;130And don hem of þar hire were queme,An hire bodi couþe yeme;132No wolde me neuere iuele likeI would not care for myself.”Me þou ich were inheuene-riche!”HE SUMMONS HIS LORDS TO WINCHESTER.Quanne he hauede þis pleinte maked,Þer-after stronglike [he] quaked.136He sende writes sone on-on[Fol. 204b, col. 2.]After his erles euere-ich on;He summons his lords, from Roxburgh to Dover.And after hise baruns, riche and poure,Fro rokesburw al into douere,140That he shuldencomen swiþeTil him, that was ful vnbliþe;To þat stede þe[r] he lay,In harde bondes, nicth and day.144He was so faste wit yuel fest,Þat he ne mouthe hauenno rest;He can no longer eat.He ne mouthe no mete hete,Ne he ne mouchte no lyþe gete;148Ne non of his iuel þat couþe red;Of him ne was nouth butended.All sadly obey his summons.Alle þat the writes herden,Sorful an sori til him ferden;152He wrungen hondes, and wepensore,And yerne preydencristes hore,Þat he [wolde] turnen himVt of þat yuel þat was so grim!156Þanne he weren comen alleThey come to Winchester.Bifor þe king into the halle,At winchestre þer he lay:“Welcome,” he seyde, “be ye ay!160Ful michel þank[e] kan [y] yowThat ye aren comento me now!”ATHELWOLD SELECTS EARL GODRICH TO BE HIS DAUGHTER’S GUARDIAN.They all mourn and lament.Quanne he werenalle set,And þe king aueden i-gret,164He greten, and gouleden, and gouenhemille,And he bad hemalle ben stille;And seyde, “þat greting helpeth nouth,For al to dede am ich brouth.168Bute nov ye sen þat i shal deye,He prays them to tell him who can guard his daughter best.Nou ich wille you alle preyeOf mi douther þat shal beYure leuedi after me,172Wo may yemenhire so longe,Boþen hire and engelonde,Til þat she [mowe] winan of helde,175And þa she mowe yemenand welde?”176He ansuereden, and seydenan-on,They answer, “Earl Godrich of Cornwall.”Bi crist*and bi seint ion,That þerl Godrigh of cornwayleWas trewe man, wit-utenfaile;180Wis manof red, wis manof dede,And menhauedenof himmikel drede.[Fol. 205, col. 1.]“He may hire alþer-best[e] yeme,Til þat she mowe wel benquene.”*Read— “Bi [ihesu] crist,” &c, to fill up; but this is doubtful; see l. 1112.184Þe king was payed of that Rede;The king sends for chalice and paten,A wol fair cloth bringenhe dede,And þer-on leyde þe messebok,Þe caliz, and þe pateyn ok,188Þe corporaus, þe messe-gere;189Þer-on he garte þe erl suere,for the earl to swear upon.Þat he sholde yemen hire wel,With-utenlac, wit-utentel,192Til þat she were tuelf8winter hold,And of speche were bold;And þat she covþe of curteysye,His daughter is to marry the best and fairest man that can be found.Gon, and speken of luue-drurye;196And til þat she louen þoucte,9Wom so hire to gode thoucte;And þat he shulde hire yeueÞe beste manthat micthe liue,200Þe beste, fayreste, the strangest ok:—Þat dede he him sweren on þe bok.And þanne shulde he engelondAl bitechen in-to hire hond.8Qu.tuenti. Cf. v. 259.9MS. mithe. But see l. 257.204Quanne10þat was sworn on his wise,He gives up all England to the earl, to keep for her.Þe king dede þe maydenarise,And þe erl hire bitaucte,And al the lond he euere awcte;208Engelonde eueri del;And preide, he shulde yeme hire wel.10MS. Ouanne. And perhaps “his” should have been “þis.”Þe king ne mowcte don no more,But yerne preyede godes ore;212And dede him hoslenwel and shriue,The king does penance.I woth, fif hundred siþes and fiue;An ofte dede him sore swinge,And wit hondes smerte dinge;216So þat þe blod ran of his fleys,Þat tendre was, and swiþe neys.11And sone gaf it euere-il del;He made his quiste swiþe wel.He makes his will.220Wan it was gouen, ne micte menfindeSo mikel menmicte himin winde,Of his inarke, ne in chiste,In engelond þat nomanwiste:224For al was youen, faire and wel,Þat him was leued no catel.11Some lines appear to be wanting here, such as—“He þoucte his quiste þan to make,His catel muste he wel bitake,” &c.KING ATHELWOLD DIES.Þanne he hauede benofte swngen,[Fol. 205, col. 2.]Ofte shriuen, and ofte dungen,228“In manustuas, lou[er]de,” he seyde,Her þat he þe speche leyde.The king dies.To ihesu crist bigan to calle,And deyede biforn his heymenalle.232Þan he was ded, þere micte menseÞe meste sorwe that micte be;Þer was sobbing, siking, and sor,Handes wringing, and drawing bi hor.All mourn for him.236Alle greten swiþe sore,Riche and poure þat þere wore;An mikel sorwe hauedenalle,Leuedyes inboure, knictes inhalle.240Quan þat sorwe was somdel laten,And he hauedenlonge graten,Masses are sung for him.Belles dedenhe sone ringen,Monkes and prestes messe singen;244And sauteres deden he manie reden,Þat god self shulde his soule ledenInto heuene, biforn his sone,And þer wit-uten hende wone.He is buried and the earl takes possession,248Þan he was to þe erþe brouth,Þe riche erl ne foryat nouth,Þat he ne dede al engelondSone sayse intil his hond;252And in þe castels leth he12doÞe knictes he micte tristento;And alle þe englis dede he swere[n],Þat he shuldenhim ghod fey baren;till the maiden is twenty years old.256He yaf alle men, þat god þoucte,Liuen and deyen til þat him moucte,13Til þat þe kinges dowter woreTuenti winterhold, and more.12Sir F. Madden printed “lechhe”; but the MS. may be read “leth he.”13So in MS. But the sense requires“He gaf alle men, þat godhimþouchte,Liuen and deyen til þathemouete,” &c.EARL GODRICH TAKES POSSESSION.260Þanne he hauede takenþis othOf erles, baruns, lef and loth,Of knictes, cherles, fre and þewe,Earl Godrich appoints justices, sheriffs, &c.263Justises dede he maken newe,264Al engelond to faren þorw,Fro douere into rokesborw.Schireues he sette, bedels, and greyues,Grith-sergeans, wit longe gleyues,268To yemenwilde wodes and paþesFro wicke men, that wolde don scaþes;And forto hauenalle at his cri,At his wille, at his merci;[Fol. 205b, col. 1.]272Þat non durste benhim ageyn,Erl ne baron, knict ne sweyn.He grows very rich,Wislike for soth, was him welOf folc, of wepne, of catel,276Soþlike, in a lite þraweAl engelond of him stod [in] awe;and all England fears him.Al engelond was of him adrad,14So his þe beste fro þe gad.14MS. “adred,” altered to “adrad.”The maiden grows up very fair.280Þe kinges douther bigan þriue,And wex þe fayrest wmanon liue.Of alle þewes w[as] she wis,Þat gode weren, and of pris.Her name is Goldborough.284Þe mayden Goldeboru was hoten;For hire was mani a ter igroten.GODRICH PLOTS AGAINST HIS WARD.Quanne the Erl godrich him herdeOf þat mayden, hw we[l s]he ferde;288Hw wis sho was, w chaste, hw fayr,And þat sho was þe rithe eyrOf engelond, of al þe rike:—Godrich is vexed.Þo bigan godrich to sike,292And seyde, “weþer she sholde beQuen and leuedi ouer me?Hweþer sho sholde al engelond,And me, and mine, hauenin hire hond?296Daþeit hwo it hire thaue!Shal sho it neuere more haue.“Shall I give England to a fool, a girl?Sholde ic yeue a fol, a þerne,Engelond, þou sho it yerne?300Daþeit hwo it hire yeue,Euere more hwil i liue!Sho is waxen al to prud,For gode metes, and noble shrud,304Þat hic haue youen hire to offte;Hic haue yemed hire to softe.Shal it nouth ben als sho þenkes,‘Hope maketh fol manofte blenkes.’My son shall have England.308Ich haue a sone, a ful fayr knaue,He shal engelond al haue.He shal [ben] king, he shal ben sire,So brouke i euere mi blake swire!”312Hwan þis trayson was al þouth,He lets his oath go for nothing.Of his oth ne was him nouth.He let his oth al ouer-ga,Þerof ne yaf he nouth a stra;316But sone dede hire fete,[Fol. 205b, col. 2.]Er he wolde hetenani mete,Fro winchestre þer sho was,Also a wicke traytur iudas;He sends the maiden to Dover.320And dede ledenhire to doure,Þat standeth on þe seis oure;And þerhinne dede hire fedePourelike in feble wede,He shuts her up in the castle.324Þe castel dede he yemen so,Þat non ne micte comenhire toOf hire frend, with [hire] to speken,Þat heuere micte hire bale wreken.328Of Goldeborushul we nou laten,Þat nouth ne blinneth forto graten,Þet sho liggeth in prisoun:May Christ release Goldborough from prison!Ihesu crist, that lazarun332To liue broucte fro dede bondes,He lese hire wit hise hondes;And leue sho mo him y-seHeye hangen on galwe tre,336Þat hire haued insorwe brouth,So as sho ne misdede nouth!BIRKABEYN IS KING OF DENMARK.338Sawe nou forth inhure spelle;At that time there was a king of Denmark, called Birkabeyn.In þat time, so it bifelle,340Was in þe lon of denemarkA riche king, and swyþe stark.Þ[e] name of him was birkabeyn,He hauede mani knict and sueyn;344He was fayr man, and wicth,Of bodi he was þe beste knicthÞat euere micte ledenuth here,Or stede onne ride, or handlen spere,He had three children.348Þre children he hauede bi his wif,He hem louede so his lif.He hauede a sone [and] douhtres two,Swiþe fayre, as fel it so.352He þat wile non forbere,Riche ne poure; king ne kaysere,Death came upon him.Deth him tok þanhe bes[t] woldeLiuen, but hyse dayes were fulde;356Þat he ne moucte no more liue,For gol ne siluer, ne for no gyue.He sends for the priests.Hwanhe þat wiste, raþe he sendeAfter prestes fer an hende,360Chanounes gode, and monkes beþe,15Him for to16wisse, and to Rede;[Fol. 206, col. 1.]Him for to hoslon, an forto shriue,Hwil his bodi were on liue.
[Fol. 204, col. 1.]Hearken!
Herknet to me, gode men,
Wiues, maydnes, and alle men,
Of a tale þat ich you wile telle,
Wo so it wile here, and þer-to duelle.
I will tell you the tale of Havelok,
Þe tale is of hauelok i-maked;
Wil he was litel he yede ful naked:
Hauelok was a ful god gome,
He was ful god in eueri trome,
a wight man at need.
He was þe wicteste manat nede,
Þat þurte ridenon ani stede.
Þat ye mowen nou y-here,
And þe tale ye mowen y-lere.
At the beginning1of vre tale,
First, fill me a cup of ale.
Fil me a cuppe of ful god ale;
And [y] wile drinken her y spelle,
Þat crist vs shilde alle fro helle!
Krist late vs heuere so for to do,
Christ grant we may do right!
Þat we moten comen him to,
And wit[e]2þat it mote ben so!
Benedicamus domino!
Here y schal biginnen a rym,
Krist us yeue wel god fyn!
The rime is about Havelok.
The rym is maked of hauelok,
A stalworþi man ina flok;
He was þe stalworþeste manat nede,
Þat may riden on ani stede.
1MS. Beginnig.2Seell. 517, 1316.
1MS. Beginnig.
2Seell. 517, 1316.
THE GOOD KING ATHELWOLD IS KING OVER ALL ENGLAND.
There was once a king who made good laws.
IT was a king bi are dawes,
That inhis time were gode lawes
He dede maken, an ful wel holden;
Hym louede yung, him louede holde,
Erl and barun, dreng and kayn,
Knict, bondeman, and swain,
All loved him.
Wydues, maydnes, prestes and clerkes,
And al for hise gode werkes.
He louede god with al his micth,
And holi kirke, and soth, ant ricth;
Ricth-wise3man he louede alle,
And oueral made hem forto calle;
He hated traitors and robbers.
Wreieres and wrobberes made he falle,
And hated hemso mandoth galle;
Vtlawes and theues made he bynde,
Alle that he micthe fynde,
And heye hengen on galwe-tre;
For hem ne yede gold ne fe.
At that time, men could carry gold about safely,
In that time a man þat bore
[Wel fyfty pund, y woth, or more,]4
[Fol. 204, col. 2.]
Ofred[e]gold up-on hijs bac,
In a male with or blac,
Ne funde he non that him misseyde,
N[e] with iuele on [him] hond leyde.
Þanne micthe chapmenfare
Þuruth englond wit here ware,
and boldly buy and sell.
And baldelike beye and sellen,
Oueral þer he wilen dwellen,
In gode burwes, and þer-fram
Ne fundenhe non þat dede hemsham,
Þat he ne werensone to sorwe brouth,
An pouere maked, and browt to nouth.
Þanne was engelond at hayse;5
Then was England at ease.
Michel was svich a king to preyse,
Þat held so eng[e]lond in grith!
Krist of heuene was him with.
He was engelondes blome;
Was non so bold lond to rome,
Þat durste upon his [menie] bringhe
Hunger, ne here*wicke þinghe.
Hwan he felede hise foos,
The king made his foes hide themselves.
He made hemlurken, and crepenin wros:
Þe hiddenhemalle, and heldenhemstille,
And diden al his herte wille.
Ricth he louede of alle þinge,
To wronge micht himno man bringe,
Ne for siluer, ne for gold:—
So was he his soule†hold.
He befriended the fatherless.
To þe faderles was he rath,
Wo so dede hem wrong or lath,
Were it clerc, or were it knicth,
He dede hem sone to hauenricth;
And wo [so] diden‡widuen wrong,
Were he neure knicth so strong,
Þat he ne made himsone kesten,
And in feteres ful faste festen;
Them who wrought shame he punished.
And wo so dide maydne shame
Of hire bodi, or brouth inblame,
Bute it were bi hire wille,
He6made himsone of limes spille.
He was te7beste knith at nede,
Þat heuere micthe ridenon stede,
Or wepne wagge, or folc vt lede;
Of knith ne hauede he neuere drede,
Þat he ne sprong forth so sparke of glede,
[Fol. 204b, col. 1.]
And lete him [knawe] of hise hand-dede,
Hw he couþe with wepne spede;
He made his foes cry for mercy.
And oþer he refte himhors or wede,
Or made him sone handes sprede,
And “louerd, merci!” loude grede.
He was large, and no wicth gnede;
Hauede he non so god brede,
Ne on his bord nonso god shrede,
He fed the poor.
Þat he ne wolde þorwit fede,
Poure þat on fote yede;
Forto hauenof him þe mede
Þat for vs wolde on rode blede,
Crist, that al kan wisse and rede,
Þat euere woneth inani þede.
3MS. “Rirth wise.”4Supplied from conjecture. Cf. v. 653, 787. A few more instances will be found where a similar liberty has been taken, for the purpose of completing the sense.5MS. athayse.*For the MS. readinghereMr Garnett proposed to readothere, which is clearly right.†Forhis soule(as in the MS.) we should probably readof his soule.‡Forwo diden(as in the MS.) we should readwo so dide.6MS. Ke.7MS. Ke waste.
3MS. “Rirth wise.”
4Supplied from conjecture. Cf. v. 653, 787. A few more instances will be found where a similar liberty has been taken, for the purpose of completing the sense.
5MS. athayse.
*For the MS. readinghereMr Garnett proposed to readothere, which is clearly right.
†Forhis soule(as in the MS.) we should probably readof his soule.
‡Forwo diden(as in the MS.) we should readwo so dide.
6MS. Ke.
7MS. Ke waste.
ATHELWOLD IS ABOUT TO DIE.
His name was Athelwold.
¶ Þe king was hoten aþelwold,
Of word, of wepne he was bold;
In engeland was neure knicth,
Þat betere hel þe lond to ricth.
He had but a young daughter to succeed him.
Of his bodi ne hauede he eyr
Bute a mayden swiþe fayr,
Þat was so yung þat sho ne couþe
Gon on fote, ne speke wit mouþe.
Þan him tok an iuel strong,
Þat he we[l] wiste, and under-fong,
He feels he is dying, and says,
Þat his deth was comenhim on:
And seyde, “crist, wat shal y don!
Louerd, wat shal me to rede!
I woth ful wel ich haue mi mede.
W shal nou mi douhter fare?
“I am in trouble about her.
Of hire haue ich michel kare;
Sho is mikel in mi þouth,
Of me self is me rith nowt.
No selcouth is, þou me be wo;
Sho ne kanspeke, ne sho kan go.
Were she but of age,
Yif scho couþe on horse ride,
And a thousande menbi hire syde;
And sho were comenintil helde,
And engelond sho couþe welde;
And don hem of þar hire were queme,
An hire bodi couþe yeme;
No wolde me neuere iuele like
I would not care for myself.”
Me þou ich were inheuene-riche!”
HE SUMMONS HIS LORDS TO WINCHESTER.
Quanne he hauede þis pleinte maked,
Þer-after stronglike [he] quaked.
He sende writes sone on-on
[Fol. 204b, col. 2.]
After his erles euere-ich on;
He summons his lords, from Roxburgh to Dover.
And after hise baruns, riche and poure,
Fro rokesburw al into douere,
That he shuldencomen swiþe
Til him, that was ful vnbliþe;
To þat stede þe[r] he lay,
In harde bondes, nicth and day.
He was so faste wit yuel fest,
Þat he ne mouthe hauenno rest;
He can no longer eat.
He ne mouthe no mete hete,
Ne he ne mouchte no lyþe gete;
Ne non of his iuel þat couþe red;
Of him ne was nouth butended.
All sadly obey his summons.
Alle þat the writes herden,
Sorful an sori til him ferden;
He wrungen hondes, and wepensore,
And yerne preydencristes hore,
Þat he [wolde] turnen him
Vt of þat yuel þat was so grim!
Þanne he weren comen alle
They come to Winchester.
Bifor þe king into the halle,
At winchestre þer he lay:
“Welcome,” he seyde, “be ye ay!
Ful michel þank[e] kan [y] yow
That ye aren comento me now!”
ATHELWOLD SELECTS EARL GODRICH TO BE HIS DAUGHTER’S GUARDIAN.
They all mourn and lament.
Quanne he werenalle set,
And þe king aueden i-gret,
He greten, and gouleden, and gouenhemille,
And he bad hemalle ben stille;
And seyde, “þat greting helpeth nouth,
For al to dede am ich brouth.
Bute nov ye sen þat i shal deye,
He prays them to tell him who can guard his daughter best.
Nou ich wille you alle preye
Of mi douther þat shal be
Yure leuedi after me,
Wo may yemenhire so longe,
Boþen hire and engelonde,
Til þat she [mowe] winan of helde,
And þa she mowe yemenand welde?”
He ansuereden, and seydenan-on,
They answer, “Earl Godrich of Cornwall.”
Bi crist*and bi seint ion,
That þerl Godrigh of cornwayle
Was trewe man, wit-utenfaile;
Wis manof red, wis manof dede,
And menhauedenof himmikel drede.
[Fol. 205, col. 1.]
“He may hire alþer-best[e] yeme,
Til þat she mowe wel benquene.”
*Read— “Bi [ihesu] crist,” &c, to fill up; but this is doubtful; see l. 1112.
*Read— “Bi [ihesu] crist,” &c, to fill up; but this is doubtful; see l. 1112.
Þe king was payed of that Rede;
The king sends for chalice and paten,
A wol fair cloth bringenhe dede,
And þer-on leyde þe messebok,
Þe caliz, and þe pateyn ok,
Þe corporaus, þe messe-gere;
Þer-on he garte þe erl suere,
for the earl to swear upon.
Þat he sholde yemen hire wel,
With-utenlac, wit-utentel,
Til þat she were tuelf8winter hold,
And of speche were bold;
And þat she covþe of curteysye,
His daughter is to marry the best and fairest man that can be found.
Gon, and speken of luue-drurye;
And til þat she louen þoucte,9
Wom so hire to gode thoucte;
And þat he shulde hire yeue
Þe beste manthat micthe liue,
Þe beste, fayreste, the strangest ok:—
Þat dede he him sweren on þe bok.
And þanne shulde he engelond
Al bitechen in-to hire hond.
8Qu.tuenti. Cf. v. 259.9MS. mithe. But see l. 257.
8Qu.tuenti. Cf. v. 259.
9MS. mithe. But see l. 257.
Quanne10þat was sworn on his wise,
He gives up all England to the earl, to keep for her.
Þe king dede þe maydenarise,
And þe erl hire bitaucte,
And al the lond he euere awcte;
Engelonde eueri del;
And preide, he shulde yeme hire wel.
10MS. Ouanne. And perhaps “his” should have been “þis.”
Þe king ne mowcte don no more,
But yerne preyede godes ore;
And dede him hoslenwel and shriue,
The king does penance.
I woth, fif hundred siþes and fiue;
An ofte dede him sore swinge,
And wit hondes smerte dinge;
So þat þe blod ran of his fleys,
Þat tendre was, and swiþe neys.
11And sone gaf it euere-il del;
He made his quiste swiþe wel.
He makes his will.
Wan it was gouen, ne micte menfinde
So mikel menmicte himin winde,
Of his inarke, ne in chiste,
In engelond þat nomanwiste:
For al was youen, faire and wel,
Þat him was leued no catel.
11Some lines appear to be wanting here, such as—“He þoucte his quiste þan to make,His catel muste he wel bitake,” &c.
11Some lines appear to be wanting here, such as—
“He þoucte his quiste þan to make,His catel muste he wel bitake,” &c.
“He þoucte his quiste þan to make,
His catel muste he wel bitake,” &c.
KING ATHELWOLD DIES.
Þanne he hauede benofte swngen,
[Fol. 205, col. 2.]
Ofte shriuen, and ofte dungen,
“In manustuas, lou[er]de,” he seyde,
Her þat he þe speche leyde.
The king dies.
To ihesu crist bigan to calle,
And deyede biforn his heymenalle.
Þan he was ded, þere micte mense
Þe meste sorwe that micte be;
Þer was sobbing, siking, and sor,
Handes wringing, and drawing bi hor.
All mourn for him.
Alle greten swiþe sore,
Riche and poure þat þere wore;
An mikel sorwe hauedenalle,
Leuedyes inboure, knictes inhalle.
Quan þat sorwe was somdel laten,
And he hauedenlonge graten,
Masses are sung for him.
Belles dedenhe sone ringen,
Monkes and prestes messe singen;
And sauteres deden he manie reden,
Þat god self shulde his soule leden
Into heuene, biforn his sone,
And þer wit-uten hende wone.
He is buried and the earl takes possession,
Þan he was to þe erþe brouth,
Þe riche erl ne foryat nouth,
Þat he ne dede al engelond
Sone sayse intil his hond;
And in þe castels leth he12do
Þe knictes he micte tristento;
And alle þe englis dede he swere[n],
Þat he shuldenhim ghod fey baren;
till the maiden is twenty years old.
He yaf alle men, þat god þoucte,
Liuen and deyen til þat him moucte,13
Til þat þe kinges dowter wore
Tuenti winterhold, and more.
12Sir F. Madden printed “lechhe”; but the MS. may be read “leth he.”13So in MS. But the sense requires“He gaf alle men, þat godhimþouchte,Liuen and deyen til þathemouete,” &c.
12Sir F. Madden printed “lechhe”; but the MS. may be read “leth he.”
13So in MS. But the sense requires
“He gaf alle men, þat godhimþouchte,Liuen and deyen til þathemouete,” &c.
“He gaf alle men, þat godhimþouchte,
Liuen and deyen til þathemouete,” &c.
EARL GODRICH TAKES POSSESSION.
Þanne he hauede takenþis oth
Of erles, baruns, lef and loth,
Of knictes, cherles, fre and þewe,
Earl Godrich appoints justices, sheriffs, &c.
Justises dede he maken newe,
Al engelond to faren þorw,
Fro douere into rokesborw.
Schireues he sette, bedels, and greyues,
Grith-sergeans, wit longe gleyues,
To yemenwilde wodes and paþes
Fro wicke men, that wolde don scaþes;
And forto hauenalle at his cri,
At his wille, at his merci;
[Fol. 205b, col. 1.]
Þat non durste benhim ageyn,
Erl ne baron, knict ne sweyn.
He grows very rich,
Wislike for soth, was him wel
Of folc, of wepne, of catel,
Soþlike, in a lite þrawe
Al engelond of him stod [in] awe;
and all England fears him.
Al engelond was of him adrad,14
So his þe beste fro þe gad.
14MS. “adred,” altered to “adrad.”
The maiden grows up very fair.
Þe kinges douther bigan þriue,
And wex þe fayrest wmanon liue.
Of alle þewes w[as] she wis,
Þat gode weren, and of pris.
Her name is Goldborough.
Þe mayden Goldeboru was hoten;
For hire was mani a ter igroten.
GODRICH PLOTS AGAINST HIS WARD.
Quanne the Erl godrich him herde
Of þat mayden, hw we[l s]he ferde;
Hw wis sho was, w chaste, hw fayr,
And þat sho was þe rithe eyr
Of engelond, of al þe rike:—
Godrich is vexed.
Þo bigan godrich to sike,
And seyde, “weþer she sholde be
Quen and leuedi ouer me?
Hweþer sho sholde al engelond,
And me, and mine, hauenin hire hond?
Daþeit hwo it hire thaue!
Shal sho it neuere more haue.
“Shall I give England to a fool, a girl?
Sholde ic yeue a fol, a þerne,
Engelond, þou sho it yerne?
Daþeit hwo it hire yeue,
Euere more hwil i liue!
Sho is waxen al to prud,
For gode metes, and noble shrud,
Þat hic haue youen hire to offte;
Hic haue yemed hire to softe.
Shal it nouth ben als sho þenkes,
‘Hope maketh fol manofte blenkes.’
My son shall have England.
Ich haue a sone, a ful fayr knaue,
He shal engelond al haue.
He shal [ben] king, he shal ben sire,
So brouke i euere mi blake swire!”
Hwan þis trayson was al þouth,
He lets his oath go for nothing.
Of his oth ne was him nouth.
He let his oth al ouer-ga,
Þerof ne yaf he nouth a stra;
But sone dede hire fete,
[Fol. 205b, col. 2.]
Er he wolde hetenani mete,
Fro winchestre þer sho was,
Also a wicke traytur iudas;
He sends the maiden to Dover.
And dede ledenhire to doure,
Þat standeth on þe seis oure;
And þerhinne dede hire fede
Pourelike in feble wede,
He shuts her up in the castle.
Þe castel dede he yemen so,
Þat non ne micte comenhire to
Of hire frend, with [hire] to speken,
Þat heuere micte hire bale wreken.
Of Goldeborushul we nou laten,
Þat nouth ne blinneth forto graten,
Þet sho liggeth in prisoun:
May Christ release Goldborough from prison!
Ihesu crist, that lazarun
To liue broucte fro dede bondes,
He lese hire wit hise hondes;
And leue sho mo him y-se
Heye hangen on galwe tre,
Þat hire haued insorwe brouth,
So as sho ne misdede nouth!
BIRKABEYN IS KING OF DENMARK.
Sawe nou forth inhure spelle;
At that time there was a king of Denmark, called Birkabeyn.
In þat time, so it bifelle,
Was in þe lon of denemark
A riche king, and swyþe stark.
Þ[e] name of him was birkabeyn,
He hauede mani knict and sueyn;
He was fayr man, and wicth,
Of bodi he was þe beste knicth
Þat euere micte ledenuth here,
Or stede onne ride, or handlen spere,
He had three children.
Þre children he hauede bi his wif,
He hem louede so his lif.
He hauede a sone [and] douhtres two,
Swiþe fayre, as fel it so.
He þat wile non forbere,
Riche ne poure; king ne kaysere,
Death came upon him.
Deth him tok þanhe bes[t] wolde
Liuen, but hyse dayes were fulde;
Þat he ne moucte no more liue,
For gol ne siluer, ne for no gyue.
He sends for the priests.
Hwanhe þat wiste, raþe he sende
After prestes fer an hende,
Chanounes gode, and monkes beþe,15
Him for to16wisse, and to Rede;
[Fol. 206, col. 1.]
Him for to hoslon, an forto shriue,
Hwil his bodi were on liue.