POLITICAL SONGS. (continued 3)

The following Song was written when jealousies and dissensions were rife among the barons, and some of them began to desert the popular cause. It is preserved by William de Rishanger, a contemporary, in his history of the barons’ wars. The defection of the Earl of Gloucester contributed not a little to the disastrous termination of the career of Simon de Montfort at the battle of Evesham.

SONG UPON THE DIVISIONS AMONG THE BARONS.

[MS. Cotton. Claudius D. VI. fol. 101 v^o, latter part of 13th cent.]

Translation.—Lament with weeping, O England, full as thou now art with matter of grief, in sadness thou beholdest sorrowful things, languishing in sorrow; unless Christ in his manner have regard to thee, thou wilt be but a vile song in the mouth of thine enemies.—Very many have pledged themselves to preserve thee in safety, but now they have too much neglected their promise: for many desert, who have it in their power to help; and some slink away over the sea.—Hence the rest begin to quarrel, and to go over to different sides; while things which disagree in this manner will not be reconciled, and what has been begun is left unfinished.—Thus the state is ruined, and the land is laid waste; the stranger is strengthened and raised up; the native is debased and trodden under foot: while he sustains injuries, there is no one who will speak out.—The knight as well as the clergy are both become mute; the strangers are become talkative and cunning: among a hundred Englishmen there are not two who are safe; the lot which they have obtained is lamentation and disgrace.—O Earl of Gloucester, complete what thou hast commenced; unless thou endest as thou hast begun, thou hast deceived many. Act now courageously as thou hast promised, cherish steadily the cause of which thou wast the fountain.—If, from which God preserve us! thou withdrawest thy hand and support, acting treacherously towards the land, and inflicting a great injury upon it.... May he be cursed for ever! be it so! be it so! amen.—Earl Simon de Montfort, a strong man and a bold, fight now for thy country, and be the leader of the band; neither let threats scare thee, nor the fear of death; defend the state and thy own fortune.—O thou, Earl Bigot, keep unbroken thine agreement: as thou art a brave knight, now use thy hand; a small troop of dogs puts in commotion the whole land: may such a cursed race depart or perish!—O you, great nobles, who bound yourselves to observe firmly the oath which you took; if what you imagined be profitable to the land, let that which you have ordained aid it immediately.—If you will carry to an end that which you have begun, you may obtain that which you desired; unless the thing which you have long had in hand be perfected, it may be truly said that you have laboured in vain.—It will be the highest honour to you and a worthy praise, if England answer by carrying your standards; which that he may soon deliver from the malignant plague, may the benignant piety of the Lord now help it!

The triumph of the barons did not last long. In the battle of Evesham, fought on the fourth of August in the year after that of Lewes, their great leader fell, with the best of his followers. The fate of Simon de Montfort was a subject of general lamentation; and long afterwards he was revered as a saint and martyr, and was even believed to work miracles. In MS. Cotton. Vespas. A. VI. will be found a collection of these miracles, and a form of prayers to be said in his honour, among which is the following hymn (fol. 189, r^o).

The whole was preceded by a life of Simon de Montfort, occupying two pages of the manuscript, but which some hostile hand has carefully erased. The following song was evidently written immediately after the battle of Evesham.

THE LAMENT OF SIMON DE MONTFORT.

[MS. Harl. 2253, fol. 59 r^o, early in 14th cent.]

Translation.—I am driven to sing, my heart wills it, in sorrowful language,—all with tears was made the song concerning our gentle barons,—who for the peace so long after suffered themselves to be destroyed,—their bodies to be cut and dismembered, to save England.—Now is slain the precious flower, who knew so much of war, the Earl Montfort, his hard death the land will deeply lament.

As I believe, it was on a Tuesday, that they fought the battle,—all on horse, which was the misfortune, without any foot,—very ill they there struck with the burnished sword,—that the party of Sir Edward gained the mastery. Now is slain, etc.

But by his death the Earl Montfort gained the victory,—like the martyr of Canterbury he finished his life;—the good Thomas would not suffer holy Church to perish,—the Earl fought in a similar cause, and died without flinching.—Now is slain, &c.

Sir Hugh the bold, the Despencer, a very noble justice,—is now wrongfully delivered to death, in too shameful a manner.—Sir Henry, in truth I say it, the son of the Earl of Leicester,—enough of others, as you will hear, by the Earl of Gloucester.—Now is slain, etc.

Because they were willing to die, and to maintain peace and right,—the holy martyr will cause them to enjoy his pure conscience,—who is willing to die and to sustain the men of the land,—to accomplish his good desire, for we think he does well.—Now is, etc.

Near his body, the good treasure, an heir they found,—the false ribalds, they were so wicked, and those who slew him;—what was much worse, they caused the worthy man to be dismembered,—who knew so well the art of fighting and of holding faith.—Now is, etc.

Pray all, my sweet friends, to the Son of St. Mary,—that he lead in good life the infant, the powerful heir;—I will not name the scholar, I do not desire any one to mention him,—but for the love of the Saviour, pray for the clergy.—Now is slain, etc.

I cannot find any thing that they did well, neither baron nor earl,—the knights and the esquires are all disgraced,—on account of their loyalty and truth, which is entirely annihilated;—the deceitful man may reign, the fool for his folly.—Now is slain, etc.

Sir Simon, the worthy man, and his company,—are gone in joy up to heaven, in everlasting life.—But Jesus Christ, who placed himself on the cross, and God have care of those,—who are remitted, and detained in hard prison.—Now is slain, etc.

REIGN OF EDWARD I. 1272–1307.

Henry outlived the defeat of the barons but a very few years. He died on the sixteenth of November, 1272, while his son Edward was occupied in warring against the infidels in the East. Edward was proclaimed king, while absent. A new monarch is generally welcomed with songs of praise; and the following, evidently the work of a zealous opponent of the popular party, seems to have been written before his arrival in England.

THE PRAISE OF THE YOUNG EDWARD.

[MS. Cotton. Vespas. B. XIII. fol. 130 v^o, 13th cent.]

Expliciunt versus secundum Thomam de Wyta compositi de domino Eadwardo Angliæ rege illustrissimo.

Translation.—The flourishing deeds of Edward King of the English oblige me to talk, for it is shameful to let pass famous actions in silence. He, while yet in his tender youth, went through many conflicts with a manly heart. Warlike as a pard, fragrant with sweetness like spikenard, whilst Edward is in his vigour, behold he shines like a new Richard. Thus the Britons have a double claim to honour, by the wars of Edward equally and by the valour of Richard. France praised the manners of the warlike youth; the ample hand of the giver amassed merited honours. The envious people desiring to extinguish his merited praise, began to weave new plots in their mind: the English nobles, by inventing a new law, made a wretched land of a rich kingdom. The king his father, and his uncle, with their two children, are governed by their subjects, out of which many evils follow. The degenerate race of the English, which used to serve, inverting the order of things, ruled over the king and his children. The people conspires, in order to enjoy a new law; soon after, the league being broken, horrid wars arise. While the populace associated with itself the Earl of Leicester, it accumulated for itself internal exhaustion. The impious people attacks its own king, makes captive the son with his father and uncle, next seizes upon the government; the victors rejoice, their hearts swell. Edward escapes, and immediately new battles follow. He calls together assistance, leagues are established, the army of the leader increased, the deluded troop laments its crimes. The parties meet; weapons are clashed; the fields are moistened with blood by the vigour of the soldier Edward. The Earl is slain by the sword; the barons are put to death with the weapon’s point; thus the vanquished conquer, and the conquerors are overcome. Although by sedition almost robbed of his own kingdom, he overcame the conquering legions by a wonderful effort. The noble offspring carried back his father to the government of the kingdom, wickedly wrested from him, which he had long ruled. The conquered populace roars, and again joins its warlike squadrons to the barons; fortifies towns with provisions and weapons. Soon after the isle of Ely is ravaged by the popular leaders. London, the capital city of our kingdom, is occupied by some, and is shaken with fearful strife; but all these difficulties are conquered with wonderful strength. Peace, wished for, returns; the arms are laid by; clouds have given place to sunshine; the joys of the English increase. The active Edward, flying from idleness, next took up the sign of the cross, desirous of performing a worthy service to Christ, who had delivered him from this whirlwind of wars; a pious troop of men follows. The King of Sicily, brother of the King of France, had conducted a vast host to the kingdom of Tunis, that he might recover the tribute which had been refused, saying that this would be a safe way for the whole army to the Holy Land; the people which was signed with the cross lamented to see its object thus unpropitiously changed. Edward follows in the belief that there will be powerful fighting with the Saracens; but the Gentile King wisely avoiding battle, paid whatever he asked. King Louis dies with his eldest son; France lamented; King Charles returns, and brings back the troops, the English with the Sicilians; the anxious Britons wept. The King of Sicily wickedly broke his vow of crusading, and the people, deceived, lamented his changing. He arrives at the port of Trapeni; soon a whirlwind from the north strikes the fleet; multitudes of people perish; all the money is sunk; but the English fleet is providentially saved, without losing the value of a farthing. The king refuses to proceed, or to perform his vow. The pious leader of the English and all his company alike embark, pass the sea, and make for the places which were besieged by the Gentiles, pressed under a long lasting storm. Acre takes breath, rejoicing in such a soldier, and rises as it were from the grave to sing new songs of praise. The Soldan was enraged, and thought to slay the noble leader, whom he caused to be stabbed by a detestable butcher. This assassin brought pretended messages from the Old Man of the Mountain, which were but false pretences; he enters the chamber and shuts the door; with a knife he adds wound upon wound; but Edward, on the other hand, resisted strenuously; with his strength he laid prostrate the murderer, whom he slew with a merited death by his own weapon. And because Christ knew that his servant was worthy, he healed his wounds with a sacred medicine.

Popular dissatisfaction may be traced throughout Edward’s reign, we may venture to say from the day in which he mounted the throne. The following song seems to have been popular soon after his accession; and it is written in Latin and Anglo-Norman, in order that it might be sung more generally. In the manuscript, each stanza of the Latin is followed by the corresponding stanza in Anglo-Norman. Between the Latin lines of the first stanza is left space apparently for music.

A SONG ON THE TIMES.

[From MS. Harl. 746, fol. 103 v^o, of the beginning of the reign of Edw. I.]

Translation.—Charity is wounded, love is sick; perfidy reigns, and malice is engendered. The fraud of the rulers prevails, peace is trodden under foot; faith fettered in prison is very desolate.—At present, a writing is of no use; but right and law lie as it were asleep, and the care of the wicked race is blind, it has not sufficient foresight to fear the future.—The sons of iniquity crush those who resist; the peace of the church perishes, and the proud reign. The wicked prelates support this state of things by their supineness, for they refuse to suffer death for justice.—Peace being altogether overthrown, love is cooled; all the land of England is moist with weeping, and all friendship and kindness has disappeared; all seek consolation and quiet.—The little orphans lament the loss of their father, and, deprived of their mother, they sorrow in the midst of hunger; they who at first were very powerful, now fall by the sword, and their parents weep.—Lo! wicked children rob the poor; lo! the wealth of the rich is increased by exacting gifts; almost all the nobles spend their time in contriving evil; the mad esquires delight in malice.—Lo! the rapacious men appear on every side; lo! the supporters of peace and justice perish; these cruel butchers despise doctrine, and the holy preachers have no effect.—These men will not be amended by the force of sermons; nor do they make any account of the lives of men; they all plunder together, like robbers. Take vengeance upon them, O God of vengeance.

One of the legacies which St. Louis left to Christendom was the number of new orders of monks which had been created during his reign and by his encouragement. They soon spread from France into England; but they were very far from being popular in either country, and were the constant butt of the gibes and jokes of the poets. The following is a bitter satire upon the different orders of monks in England in the reign of Edward I. The idea of caricaturing them by feigning one order which should unite the different characteristic vices of all the others, was not new.

THE ORDER OF FAIR-EASE.

[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 121 r^o. Reign of Ed. II.]

Translation.—He who will listen to me, may hear and learn the history of a new Order, which is very pleasant and beautiful: I will tell it you as I have learnt it from the brethren of my country. The Order is so cleverly founded, that it takes a point from all the other orders; there is not an order in this world, of which there is not there some one point. The name of the Order I will tell you, that I may not be blamed for what I read; he who will hear, let him be silent, it is the Order of Fair-Ease. Of this Order I will tell you the sum; for in the order is many a worthy fellow, and many a fair and good dame. In this Order there are without blame, esquires, valets, and serjeants; but to ribalds and to peasants the Order is entirely forbidden, so that no one may be received into it. For they would bring disgrace upon the Order. When ribald or vilein mounts to high place or office, there where he can have power, there is no more moderation in them than in the wolf which devours lambs. Of such people I will say no more, but I will go on to talk about the Order.

In this Order of which I tell you, it is first ordained thus, that those who shall belong to the Order, shall have one point of Sempringham, which will be very agreeable, as the Abbey of Sempringham has, brothers and sisters together; it is a good Order, as it seems to me. But so far, in truth, it is changed, that at Sempringham there must be between the brothers and the sisters (a thing which displeases many,) ditches and walls of high measure; but in this Order of Fair-Ease there must be neither ditch nor wall, nor any other impediment, to hinder the brethren at their pleasure from visiting the sisters, nor shall there be any watch-word. Their intimacy shall neither be separated by linen nor wool, or even by their very skins. From thence also it is provided, that they who shall enter the Order, must be well entertained by the abbot: and this our master commands, to eat well and plentifully three times a day, and oftener. And if they do it for company, the Order on that account shall not be the worse.

Of Beverley they have taken a point, which shall be kept well and accurately, to drink well at their meat, and then afterwards until supper; and afterwards at the collation, each must have a piece of candle as long as the arm below the elbow, and as long as there shall remain a morsel of the candle to burn, the brethren must continue their drinking.

A point they have taken from the Hospitallers, who are very courteous knights, and have very becoming robes, so long that they drag at their feet; shoes and breeches which fit elegantly, and great palfreys that amble well; so in our Order, in truth, the brethren and sisters must have them.

Of the Canons they have taken a point, which will agree well with the Order; for the canons, for great pain, eat in the refectory flesh three days in the week; so must our sisters and our brethren eat flesh in the refectory every day, except only Friday, and likewise Saturday. And if it so happen that there be a fast on the Saturday, and they have not plenty of fish, they may have leave to take what provisions are in the house; the Order will be none the worse for it.

A point they have taken from the Black Monks, that they love drinking, forsooth, and are drunk every day, for they do not know any other way of living. But they do it for the sake of society, and not at all out of gluttony. Also it is provided, that each brother drink before dinner and after. And if it so happen that a friend visit a brother (for such must be at hand to solace the brethren) who shall know how to play in the evening; this I tell you for certain, he shall sleep late in the morning, until the evil fumes are issued from his head, for great danger of the sight.

Of the Secular Canons, who willingly serve ladies, our masters have taken a point, and will that this point be well observed and well used; for know that this point is more needful than any in the Order, in order to solace the brethren. And so it is commanded very straightly, on pain of excommunication, that the brethren be constant companions of the sisters, both before matins and after, so that the brethren be not blamed for neglecting them, nor the Order receive discredit.

The Grey Monks are a hard race; yet, nevertheless, from their order our masters will that the Order have one of their points for mortification; and in fact it is not over courteous,—for they go to matins without breeches. So ought our brethren to do, to be more at their ease. And when they make no prayer, they must be on their knees, to have greater and more effectual devotion: and they ring with one bell, and no more,—it is their order and usage:—but our brethren, to double it, must sound with two bells. Our Order has such difference, that our sisters must lay down flat and pray on their backs, they do it out of great devotion.

Also they take in patience, it is a point from the Order of Silence; each is a good order, without doubt, but none of the others is so valuable;—therefore they will take one point of this order for our purpose. Each is shut up in his cell, to repose himself alone; so our brothers must be, and each at his window must have some plants to comfort him, and his sister in his arms, and he must be shut up privately, that nobody may disturb them.

We must not forget, if our Order is to last, the Friars Minors, in no case; so must we have a point of their order, to be of more account. Their order is founded in poverty, therefore they go the open way to heaven completely; and I will tell you exactly how they seek poverty always; when they travel through the country, they take up their lodgings with the chief baron or knight, or with the chief person or priest, there where they can be satiated; but, by St. Peter of Rome! they will never lodge with a poor man,—so long as there are richer men to be found, they prefer asking a lodging of them. In the same manner our brethren must not take up their lodging, nor seek other place, than where they know there is plenty, and there they ought in charity to eat flesh and whatever they find, as the Friars Minors do.

As we owe something to the Minors, we will borrow also of the Preachers; they do not go bare-foot like the others, but they go preaching with shoes on, and if it happen any time that they have sore feet, they may, if they like, ride on horseback at their ease all the day long. But quite in another manner ought our brethren to do, when they preach through the land; for they must ride thus always both far and near: and when they make any sermon, they must be within doors. And always after dinner they ought rightly to preach; for many a man is of such a character, that his heart is harder than stone; but when he shall have once drunk, then as soon as he has heard the Order, and the hearts shall be moistened, however little they might have heard, they will listen to the Order, when they have heard the sermon.

Thus is our Order founded, and our brothers have deemed right, that each county must have an abbot, who has power to receive sisters and brothers, and make and hold full orders, and that the points shall be held which our masters have provided. A provincial ought to go and inquire in the land, to know who will hold the Order. And he who shall break it, shall be chastised in private, and reproved for his trespass. And those who shall be found to have made good use of the order, must, for their humility, be raised to dignity, and they shall be abbots or priors to hold the order in honours. Thus do the Augustine Monks, who know so many devices; every where they give full encouragement to those who hold the Order loyally, and those who will hold the Order shall be praised everywhere.

Now ends our Order, which agrees with all good orders, and it is the Order of Fair-Ease, which to many may it please too well!

Edward endeavoured to call off the vigour of his subjects from domestic sedition to foreign wars. But the expenses dependent upon the latter only added to the many burdens under which the English peasantry laboured; and it is now that we begin to find the complaints of the latter vented in the shape of popular songs.

SONG OF THE HUSBANDMAN.

[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 64, r^o; reign of Edw. II.]

Translation.—I heard men on the earth make much lamentation,—how they are injured in their tillage,—good years and corn are both gone,—they keep here no saying and sing no song.—Now we must work, there is no other custom,—I can no longer live with my gleaning;—yet there is a bitterer asking for the boon,—for ever the fourth penny must [go] to the king.

Thus we complain for the king, and care full coldly,—and think to recover, and ever are cast;—he who hath any goods, expects not to keep them,—but ever the dearest we lose at last.

It is grievous to lose, where there is little,—and we have many fellows who expect it;—the hayward commandeth us harm to have of his;—the bailiff causeth us to know evil, and thinks to do well;—the woodward has woe in keeping for us, who looketh under branches;—there may not arise to us or remain with us riches or repose.—Thus they rob the poor man, who is of little value:—he must needs in sweat and in labour waste away so.

He must needs pine away, though he had swore (?),—that hath not a hood to hide his head.—Thus will walketh in the land, and law is destroyed,—and all the pride of the rider is picked from the poor.

Thus they rob the poor and pick him full clean,—the rich lord it without any right;—their lands and their people lay full lean,—through asking of bailifs such harm has befallen them.—Many of religion hold them full abject,—baron and bond-man, the clerk and the knight.—Thus will walks in the land, and consternation is frequent,—falsehood fattens and marrs with might.

He stands full in the place, and holds him full sternly,—that makes beggars go with bordon and bags.—Thus we are hunted from hall to corner;—they who once wore robes, now wear rags.

Still there come beadles, with very great boast,—“Prepare me silver for the green wax:—thou art entered in my writing, that thou knowest well of.”—More than ten times I paid my tax.—Then must I have hens roasted,—fair on the fish day lamprey and salmon;—forth to the market gains not cost,—though I sell my bill and my borstax.

I must lay my pledge well if I will,—or sell my corn while it is but green grass.—Yet I shall be a foul churl, though they have the whole,—what I have saved all the year, I must spend then.

I must needs spend what I saved formerly,—I must thus take care against the time these catchpoles come;—the master beadle comes as roughly as a boar,—he says he will make my lodgings full bare;—I must give him for meed a mark or more,—though I sell my mare at the day fixed.—There the green wax grieveth us under garment,—so that they hunt us as a hound doth the hare.

They hunt us as a hound doth a hare on the hill;—since I took to the land such hurt was given me:—the beadles have never asked their ...,—for they may scape, and we are always caught.

Thus I take and catch cares full cold,—since I reckoning and cot had to keep;—to seek silver for the king, I sold my seed,—wherefore my land lies fallow and learneth to sleep.—Since they fetched my fair cattle in my fold,—when I think of my weal I very nearly weep;—thus breed many bold beggars,—and our rye is rotted and ... before we reap.

... is our rye and rotted in the straw,—on account of the bad weather by brook and by brink.—There wakes in the world consternation and woe,—as good is to perish at once as so to labour.

The following song appears to be directed against the gay fashions in Ladies’ clothing which became prevalent about this time, and seem even to have been aped by the middle and lower ranks.

AGAINST THE PRIDE OF THE LADIES.

[MS. Harl. 2253, fol. 61, v^o; reign of Edw. II.]

Translation.—Lord, that givest us life, and regardest every people,—to ... with knife thou hast no need;—both man and woman sorely may dread,—lest thou be stern with wrath, for the boon that thou askedst,—in joy—that mankind—should shield themselves from sin.

Now pride hath the prize in every play;—of many unwise women I say my saw,—for if a lady’s linen is laid after law,—every strumpet that there is such draughts will draw;—in pride—every shrew will clothe herself,—though she have not a smock to hide her dirty tail.

First in bower were bosses brought,—to honour ladies I wot they were wrought;—every giglot will lour, unless she have them sought;—such shrew full sourly and dearly hath bought it;—in hell—with devils they shall dwell,—on account of the clogs which hang by their jowls.

Now they want no linen to bear bosses in;—they sit like a slit swine which hangs its ears.—Such a justling contrivance every wretch will wear,—that these giglots’ gear all comes to nothing;—on high—the devil may sit softly,—and hold his sabbaths often.

If there lies a locket by ear or eye,—that may with worse be wet, for lack of other lye; the but and the barbel with frontlet shall quarrel;—if she have a false fillet, she holds her head high,—to show—that she is famous and well known—for a strumpet in the ribalds’ ranks.

Another song, written apparently about the same period, is a satire upon the smaller Ecclesiastical Courts, and the vexation which they caused to the peasantry.

A SATYRE ON THE CONSISTORY COURTS.

[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 70, v^o; of reign of Edw. II.]

Translation.—No unlearned (lay) person may live in the land,—be he in assembly never so ... of hand,—the learned (the clergy) so lead us about;—if I chance to go on the earth with a maid,—I shall fall before them and learn their lay,—and rue all their counsels.—But unless I be on the foremost day in the land before them,—I shall not escape so clear of their score,—they cry on me so grimly,—that I may not lead myself there with my law,—on all kinds of oaths that they will give me,—their books as....—They turn over books that are not broad,—and make men a month mad;—from hurt I will save myself,—and fly from my companion;—she recked not what it were,—but she had it.

First, there sit an old churl in a black gown,—of all who sit there he seems to be most the lord,—and lays his leg along.—A hem in a cloak with hanging sleeves,—and more than forty before him to write my bales,—in sins if I sung:—they pink with their pens on their parchment,—and say I am briefed and brought in—of all my fair wealth.—They are all ready to read my sorrow—there I must out of respect give some bribe,—and gratefully thank them.—Shall I thank them there before I go?—Yea, the master and his men both.—If I am accused in their writing,—then am I back-bitten,—for many men they make to know—woe from women.

Yet there sit somnours six or seven,—misjudging men all alike,—and reach forth their roll;—herdsmen hate them, and each man’s servant,—for every parish they put in pain,—and clatter with their collar (?).—Now will each foolish clerk that is ..., go to the bishop and buy bailywick;—there is no sense in his head.—He comes creeping to the county court in a cope,—and saying he hath proud privilege of the pope,—black and all swollen.—Are they swollen for swearing (?)?—yea, the hatred of hell be theirs!—for there they offer a book,—to say as I baptism took;—they shall in hell on a hook—hang for it.

There stands up a yellow-man, and jogs with a rod,—and shouts out aloud that all the assembly heard,—and calls Mag and Mal;—and she comes be-mothered as a moor-hen,—and shrinks for shame, and is ashamed on account of the men,—un-comely under petticoat.—She begins to screech, and screams anon,—and says, “by my gabbing, it shall not go so,—and that be on you all;—that thou shalt wed me and have me to wife.”—But I would rather with law lose my life,—than so fall at their feet.—Shall I fall at the feet of my foes?—Yea, many she deceiveth so.—I am there threatened by thralls,—who sit black and covered with sweat,—there I must take me a command,—before I go home.

Such merchandise I buy at the chapter,—that makes many thrifty men to be unthankful,—with very thin thanks:—and since I go creeping to the consistory,—and fall at the foot of each ...,—theirs is the world’s joy,—since I played at the bishop’s pleading.—But I had rather be drowned in the sea,—in sorrow without sin.—At church and through the market like a dog I am driven,—that I would rather be dead than so to live,—to have care for all my kindred.—At the consistory they teach us care,—and wish us evil and worse to fare;—a priest as proud as a peacock—afterwards weds us both,—widely they work us woe,—for women’s ware.

In the latter years of the thirteenth century, Edward became involved in the Scottish wars; and the enmity of the two nations was manifested in multitudes of songs, of which the greater part are lost, although a few are preserved, and a fragment or two of others are found in the old historians. The following song, attributed in the several manuscripts to different writers, was (if we may judge by the number of copies which remain,) very popular. Different persons seem, from time to time, to have altered it and added to it. It appears to have been composed in 1298, soon after the sanguinary battle of Falkirk; but the latter stanzas, found only in one manuscript, have apparently been added at a somewhat later period.

SONG ON THE SCOTTISH WARS.

[MS. Cotton. Claudius, D. VI. fol. 182, v^o; of the beginning of the fourteenth cent. (C. 1.)—MS. Cotton. Titus, A. XX. fol. 64, v^o; of reign of Edw. III. (C. 2.)—MS. of Clare Hall, Cambridge, of fourteenth cent. (Cl.)—MS. Sloan. No. 4934, fol. 103, r^o; a modern copy from a MS. not now known. (Sl.)—MS. Bodl. Oxfd. Rawl. B. 214, fol. 216, r^o; of the fifteenth cent.]

Various Readings.—2. militia, C. 2. & Cl. demonstrans, C. 2.—3. perquiram, Cl.—7. sed vos non commoveant, C. 1.

Various Readings.—8. Instead of this second tetrastich, the Sloane and Cambridge MSS. have the four which are here given in brackets.—[†7. languorem, Sl.—†9. abiit, Sl.—†12. Nequius ... nil est, nil acrius, Sl.

Various Readings.—†19. verebor animo, Sl. voces malignorum, Cl.]—9. inest spiritum, C. 2. proprie, Cl.—10. validos, Sl.—11. nubari, Sl.—13. sanctitudo, C. 1 and 2.—15. reproborum, C. 1.—16. stultum, C. 2.—18. suadet ut, C. 1. præcipit ut, Sl. ut fugiat, Cl. a suo, Sl.—19. serato, Sl.—21. malignorum, Cl.

Various Readings.—24. Destruat ipse Deus qui, C. 1 and 2. possidet, C. 2.—25. clamavimus, Sl.—26. cuncta, Cl. produxit, C. 2.—29. dare potest pot. Cl. paribus dare possit p. Sl. sicut unus pluribus dat pincerna pot. C. 1.—31. illud habet, Cl. et Sl.—34. ad is omitted in C. 2 and Cl. In Sl. the two lines (34 and 35) are transposed.—35. Hostes fugat singulos t. C. 1. fugat hostes undique t. C. 2.

Various Readings.—36. C. virtus redolet, C. 1. secet, by an error, for fetet, Sl. istius redolet, Sl. fama replens mundum fragrat velut optima n. C. 2.—37. quasi nardus, Cl. and Sl.—38, 39. Qui regit rempublicam more Romanorum | Innocentes erripit de manu pravorum, C. 1. Fama cujus attigit fines seculorum; | Ipsum tr’imēt Scotici fures jumentorum, C. 2. Dum conatus, &c. Cl.—41. faucibus hiis consistunt annis, Sl.—42. devinctis, Sl.—45. J. rex Sc. quondam cl. cast. Cl. quidem Scotiæ, Sl.—47. disposuit, C. 1 et C. 2.—48. sede sua, C. 1 and Sl.—49. Hic dum rexit Scotiam prout dudum legi, C. 1. Hic dum sedem tenuit regnum d. l. Sl. Hic dum regnum tenuit in scriptis jam l. Cl.

Various Readings.—50. Quod fecit hom. Cl. and Sl.—51. sed declinat, C. 2.—55. resonat, Cl.—61-68, are omitted in Cl.—64. Inpius imprimis, Sl.

Various Readings.—68. bufo cuncti, Sl.—69. sub dicto, C. 1.—70. Anglico, Cl.—71. obviat, C. 1. sibi obviant, Sl. stulti levant lanceas armato v. Cl.—74. de Scotis miseris, C. 1. de plebe Scotiæ, Sl.—77. ad Berwik, C. 2.—80. Vilis, C. 2. strincta, C. 2. et Cl. cincta, Sl.—81. inanis, C. 1. vilis et inanis, Sl.

Various Readings.—83. cadebant in foveis, C. 1. cadebant in prælio, Sl.—85. plebem contumacem, C. 2. facit ... prophetam fal. Sl.—86. Edwardum contempnere dominum v. C. 2.—88. quemcunque facit, Sl.—90. Scotica, C. 2.—92. de carne raro, C. 1.—93. recedit, Sl. rex igitur, C. 1.—94. Scotiam pertransiit, C. 1.—95. rege procurante, C. 1 and Sl.—96. prævidimus, C. 1.

Various Readings.—97. valla, C. 1.—98. Scotiani, C. 1.—99. revocantur, Sl. prænotantur, C. 1.—100. ipse rerum, Sl.—102. Johan Warenne, C. 1.—103. potuit Scotos registravit, C. 1. valuit jura conservavit, Sl.—104. prodens, Sl. levavit, C. 1.—105. in pace rex, C. 1.—107. Morari non patitur, navibus paratis, C. 1. Præparat navigia tempestive satis, Sl.—108. deferre, C. 1.

Various Readings.—111. Quod trugam non, C. 2.—112. P. v. plura debent sal. Sl.—113. Per salutem regiam Scoti jurant l. C. 1 and Sl.—114. singuli, Sl.—115. ac ruant, C. 1.—119. sententiæ immemor, Sl.—120. vis, C. 2.—122. Regem, quem, Sl.—123. Ejus bella, C. 1. Actus ejus, Sl.—124. namque animo potuit, Sl.

Various Readings.—127. Et Anglorum, C. 1 and Sl. dampnatur, Sl.—129. turbæ de. C. 2. derilictæ, C. 1.—131. non ad, Sl.—133. Viros sag. C. 1 and Sl. omnes con. Sl.—134. cito prop. C. 2. This line and the following are transposed in Sl.—135. pat. est ut propugnemus, Sl.—138. Strivelyn, C. 1. Strevelyn, Sl. properat gens, C. 2 and Sl.—139. Defraudantur Anglici, C. 2.

Various Readings.—142. audacter cuneas, Sl.—144. mater multorum, Sl.—145. Fraus confecit, C. 1. robore, Sl. in campo confundi, C. 2.—146. bello vident, C. 1 and Sl.—147. le faux est et Ricardus secundi, C. 1. Letenax et, C. 2. Reus fraus L. Sl.—148. usus quam, C. 1. longa lac. C. 2 and Sl.—149. O mundi malitia, Sl.—151. admiratur, C. 1 and C. 2.—152. bac. minat. Sl.—153. miraris, Sl.—154. hæc injuria, Sl. hæc is omitted in C. 1.

Various Readings.—157. tibi cumulans, Sl. magna gens, C. 2.—158. Nam fortes, Sl.—159. Numquid non intelligit sapientis verba, C. 1. Non enim intel. sap. v. C. 2.—160. The eight lines which follow (included in brackets) are found only in Sl.—161. Statim dux fallacis, C. 1. Falsus d. f. convocavit c. Sl.

Various Readings.—165. Luge nunc N., Sl. Northumbriæ, C. 1.—167. V., Bertram, Sum., Merlaii, C. 1. Vessy ... Borthram, C. 2.—168. in quantis, C. 2. es viduata, Sl.—169. In hanc, C. 1. hac, ergo vid. C. 2. In te cum sis, Sl.—170. in cinerem, Sl. Intrant et dant ignibus prædia proborum, C. 1.—172. cumulat ... malorum, C. 1.—173. augmenta, Sl.—174. Alnewik, C. 1. Alnewyk, Sl.

Various Readings.—177. sit actum, Sl.—178. Nōmonasterium ... sit, C. 2. Novummonasterium, Sl.—179. non tenent, C. 2.—180. ad actum, C. 2.—182. invenerunt, Sl.—183. domus, C. 2.—184. qui præmia, C. 1 and Sl.—185. suam petit patriam pop. C. 1. suam petunt pat. pop. Sl.—186. Et Wallensis accipit m. p. Sl. Et Wallensem accipit, C. 1.—188. quam non, C. 2. Si non, Sl.—189. Digno tamen, C. 1.

Various Readings.—191. Si turbatus, C. 1 and Sl.—193. Tunc rex suos, C. 1. affare, C. 2.—194. detur præliari.—195. Malo malos perdere, quam sic molestari, C. 2. Malos Scotos perdere, quam sic conturbari, Sl.—196. volunt melius, C. 1.—199. perimet totum sicut plures, C. 2. Unus nam Anglicus Scotos valet plures, Sl.—200. surgere mures, C. 2. mingere m. C. 1.—201. Vix est murus melior mari ait(?) Gilm. C. 1. melior Scotus Guilm. Sl.—202. Ad cujus vic. crescit, C. 1 and Sl. cresset, C. 2.

Various Readings.—207. cæsis cadaveribus, C. 2 and Sl.—210. cui quidem, Sl.—213. Illa die plurimi Scoti per. C. 1. plurimi pravi puniuntur, Sl.—214. Fugientes miseros Ang. per. C. 1. Fug. mis. Angl. prosequuntur, Sl.—216. vaticinia, Sl.—218. Ex quo tuum populum tuens non tueris, C. 1. Ex quo tuos gladio tutor non t. Sl.

Various Readings.—219. Jam tuo dominio jus est ut pri. C. 1. and Sl.—220. acellus, C. 2. In the Sl. MS. the song ends with this line. In C. 1, it ends with l. 232, the last twelve lines, however, being written by another and rather later hand. The rest is found only in C. 2.—221. scissum quod stare, C. 1.—226. ludis speciebus, C. 1.—227. Profugo sub p. ... Gebus, C. 1,—228. divinis, C. 1.—230. a foveis fugat vel ven. C. 2. Et suis, C. 1.

Translation.—I playing prepare a harp for those who desire to play; I set forth a wonderful matter concerning the malice of the world; I will tell nothing that is noxious, but will relate a historical incident; I write a new satire, yet let it not on that account sow anger.—Anger moves the minds of the soldiers of the present day, since the weak detract from the praise of the deeds of the strong; yet let not teeth of the detractors scare thee: if you live well, you need not care for what evil men say.—[If anger last, it turns into malice; malice if not restrained drives people into rage; rage shortens our days, by bringing us into anguish; anger breeds hatred, whilst concord nourishes love.—The love which was in the world is gone, and poison has taken its place; out of hatred has sprung no small plague; the homicide has raised his standard; nothing is sharper than envy, and nothing more wicked.—There is nothing more wicked than an envious man, as every one knows; for his unhappiness increases with the prosperity of his neighbour; he pines away by the very cause which brings profit to the just man. Unless the vessel be clean, whatever you pour in becomes soured.—In order, therefore, that the minds of the wicked may be soured, I will relate what I have learnt of the deeds of the English. Henceforward I will not fear the words of the envious. If you live well, you need not care for what evil men say.]—It is the property of wicked men always to say evil, to detract from the able, to respect the vile. I am unwilling that you should be disturbed by the fear of such men; it is praiseworthy in the prudent to be abused by the wicked.—For the wicked are displeased by rectitude of life: the law is injured in them, and they esteem strife as a joke. The repose of ribalds is inquietude; to attempt to convert fools is, as it were, to put cold iron on the anvil.—Every one strikes cold iron, who counsels the obstinate man to desert his sins; for the wise man says very sensibly, “he sows words in the wind who preaches to a madman.”—Every where are preached the fraudulent actions of the faithless men, who molest England by force of arms; the French, Scotch, and Welsh, whose power may the Omnipotent who holds the world repress!—May the Governor of the universe whom we address as God, who protected the Hebrew people through many difficulties, give the English victory over their enemies! The butler can furnish liquor to a thousand men.—As the butler at will gives drink to many, so the Lord gives strength at his will to those whom he has chosen; Edward the noble King knows this; and he labours to devote himself entirely to Christ.—Edward our King is entirely devoted to Christ; he is quick to pardon, and slow to vengeance; he puts to flight his adversaries like a leopard; the reputation of the fool stinks, the just man smells sweet as spikenard.—Like spikenard smells the fame of the King of the English, who represses the attempts of his enemies; him let all the enemies of the English fear: often the mastiff snatches the sheep from the wolves’ jaws.—In the wolves’ jaws the English have been of late; for, when all the turbulent chiefs of Wales were reduced, the Scotch raise their spears armed in their rags: a few years exhibit the wonderful fortune of John.—John being now King of Scotland, clement and chaste, governing the kingdom as though he had been bred a king, him at length the pride of his nation deposed. The first-created was an exile, driven from his pious seat.—He, however, was deservedly exiled, for, as I have read, he promised homage to the English King; afterwards he declined the verb frango (I break); by breaking all which I had promised, (said he,) I performed my agreement.—The aforesaid prince broke his promise, when he did not restrain the attempts of the wicked; a voice was heard in Rama, weeping and lamentation; a remiss master makes lazy servants.—By slack servants the King is dishonoured; holiness is overthrown, the law is made of no avail; there is frequent sedition, the peace is endangered. Cursed be the house, where every dependent is master!—When the dependant commands, and the prince is a servant, then the state is in danger, and quietness departs. O how many people impiety, when unpunished, injures! The impious man unpunished always thinks that he conquers.—The twelve rulers of Scotland thought that they could resist the great valour of the English; therefore many of them fell by the sword. Said the toad to the harrow, “cursed be so many rulers!”—Many rulers under such a diminutive leader conspire against the English, whilst the king was at peace; at length they meet with standards raised. Great rivers take their rise from a small fountain.—From small fountains great rivers arise; so it is with the wanton attempts of the people of Scotland. Many thereupon are led captives: whenever the kings run wild, it is the subjects who suffer.—The subject populace perished in battle at Dunbar, where the Scotch were slain by the flail of the English. You might see the carcases, as in the shambles of a seller of refuse meat, cut off from the kilted rabble.—The kilted people, numerous and savage, who are accustomed to detract from the Englishmen, fell at Dunbar, and now stink like a dog: thus do fools, who are tormented by vain glory.—Vain glory made the deceitful people deny the true lord of Scotland; but after the battle they seek peace. Sometimes fortune makes a wise man of a fool.—He is wise in battle who yields to his superior; but the wild people of Scotland soon break their faith. No one can take away what nature gave: the disease which is rooted in the bone, can seldom be expelled from the flesh.—The noble king departed, sparing so great a mass of populace; he traversed Scotland with a crowd of attendants. The English fortify castles, by the king’s command; for that hurts less which we have provided against.—The wars are governed by the king’s providence; the Scottish nobles are subdued to the English; judges are appointed, the laws are revised; for the laws themselves require to be regulated aright.—The king appointed a worthy man to the government of the kingdom, John de Warenne, whom he had often proved. He to the utmost of his power observed the laws; destroying the proud, he placed the humble in peace.—The king, after these things had been performed, returned in peace, preparing to aid gratuitously the Count of Flanders; he prepares a great fleet as quickly as he can; banish delay, to those who are prepared it is always injurious to procrastinate.—Nor was there any delay, for the cunning Scots meet together; with their hands on the gospels, they have said that from their station in the south they will not pass the Trent: little is owing to pleasure, more to safety.—The Scottish nobles all swear with alacrity, and their boundaries are limited to each by the king; see that they be not perjured, and fall into the net; for the poets sing wonderful things that are not to be believed.—Then the king, wonderfully credulous in them, passed the sea, and powerfully warred against the French in Flanders; unmindful of old age, he was not terrified by numbers. He flourishes by counsel, to whom nature has denied strength.—The Lord has not denied strength and vigour to the king, whom he ordained to be the flower of the world; whose acts excite everybody’s wonder; for his mind is capable of undergoing every labour.—A new labour arises; Satan is raised up; the fidelity of the Scots disappears entirely; the valour of the English is undeservedly set at nought. What everybody says, does not rest upon our opinion.—The abandoned scoffers hold mutual conversations; “Lo! triumphant garlands are given to the English. O William de Wallace! send us to them: arrows can penetrate the hard mail.—Let us call together all our archers; let us hasten together against the Guardian of Scotland. For it is right that we should fight for our country: we often see the conqueror overcome by the vanquished.”—Accordingly the Guardian of Scotland is very hard pressed; and the people assemble at Stirling, proud in spirit; treachery destroys the English, and they are on the brink of ruin: the end does not correspond with the beginning.—The Earl, who was leader of the English, first passed the bridge, penetrating boldly into the Scotish columns; but he was driven back by treachery, and not by the force of arms: fraud is often the cause of many evils.—Fraud caused the English to blush, whilst they saw on all sides the blood of their own people flowing; Levenax and Richard Lundi are convicted of fraud. How short is the joy, and how lasting the sorrow, of the world!—O perfidiousness of the world! who is not astonished by thee? Treachery lies hid, concealed among our household; the cunning man is always opposed to the peaceful; the shepherd leads his sheep with a staff, the wolf threatens them with his mouth.—What does the barbarous brutal and foolish race threaten? Will this perfidy remain unavenged? The King of England will come with open force, inquiring much about Priam and much about Hector.—The proud people raise a heap of evils for themselves, provoking the English to the bitter contest; words will cease, when the blows come; though you think you have finished entirely, there is a snake concealed in the grass.—[“The sun,” they say, “will not be concealed from us with his light; the time is come when the English will all fall by our hands; no one....” The Divine power plays with the prospects of men.—O power of God! I petition thee in favour of thy people! come with a propitious countenance to the aid of the English; judge the king’s cause, and give him grace: thou who art without beginning, do not let falseness triumph.]—After this the leader of the plot calls together his party, knowing that our king would be gone over the sea; he made an order to ravage Northumberland: “we oft see,” says he, “weeping after joy.”—Northumberland, much desolated, may weep! She is made as a widow robbed of her children. Vescy, Morley, Somerville, Bertram are dead: Alas! of how many, and how great men in every part is she widowed!—In her, since she is a widow, the troops of the Scots reduce the estates of many to cinders. William Wallace is the leader of these savages; the rejoicings of fools breed increase of griefs.—To increase the wickedness which they had hitherto perpetrated, these wicked men deliver Alnwick to the flames; they run about on every side like madmen. Few are chosen, but many are called.—Many ask each other how it happened, that the Newminster was not touched by the fire. The monks promise gifts, but they do not fulfil their promise: as there was need, so was the thing carried into effect.—On this account they led away captive the prior of the monastery, whom they then found; having carried away the goods, they left the houses empty. Few are munificent, but there are many who seek after gifts.—Now the malignant people returns to Scotland; and the honour of knighthood is given to William; from a robber he becomes a knight, just as a swan is made out of a raven; an unworthy man takes the seat, when a worthy man is not by.—At length a letter reaches the worthy prince, in which the whole course of events is told. Let nobody be surprized if he was enraged at it: the sea cannot be quiet when the storm rages.—In his anger he began thus to address his knights: “Again you must prepare to fight for your country. I would rather conquer once, than be often tormented; wars are better than being troubled with lasting strife.”—“Do not be troubled,” said they, “if the Scottish thieves sharpen axes for their own heads; one Englishman will slay very many Scots. It is not the part of a man who has a beard to join mice to a little cart.”—Wallace, or Gilmaurus, is scarcely better than a mouse, to whose victory the laurel will never grow; for they want strength and treasure: a bull who has lost his horns is the more eager for the war.—On St. Magdalen’s day the wretches fall in battle; the king subdues in the field near a hundred thousand; the meadows are covered with their carcases. The wicked hate sin from the fear of punishment.—Scared by the fear of punishment the tyrant turns his back, whom the short jacket once pleased; faithless in the day of battle he flies like a truant. One day often gives what the whole year denies.—In one day many wretches were slain; and the English pursue the Scots who had fled; they are transfixed with spears, and robbed of their clothes. The white thorns are cut down, while the black bilberries are gathered.—Wallace, thy reputation as a soldier is lost; since thou didst not defend thy people with the sword, it is just thou shouldst now be deprived of thy dominion.

But, in my view, thou wilt always be the ass thou wert formerly.—Thou wilt pass into a lasting proverb; thy kingdom is divided, and cannot stand; thy people now drink of the cup which thou hast prepared. He who turns others into derision, will not escape being derided.—O laughable thing, that has been manifested in our time! Fortune will play in various ways. The prince has been turned into an outcast, Judah into Jebus. The Divine power plays with the prospects of men.—Things being brought to this pass, the king searches the country, and hunts the thieves out of their hiding places; every one who is found is put to the sword: justice requires this, that the punishment come after the fault.—[Next the king returns, that he may marry Queen Margaret, the flower of the French; through her the kingdoms receive a more complete peace. Anger begets slaughter, concord nourishes love.—When love buds between great princes, it drives away bitter sobs from their subjects; and now a firm peace is negotiated by frequent messengers: for by these things grace makes people friends.—It is just that the Scots should have a small portion of grace, because the impious people have neither peace nor quiet of mind. Comyn, Carrick, Umfraville raise their standards: there is nothing more sharp than envy, nor more wicked.—The nation, voluntarily wicked, will not be obedient; it forces the illustrious king with his army to return; now they fear who neglect to come to peace, lest they perish languishingly by the sword of dire death.—Let them perish utterly both fathers and sons; unless they quickly give their feet to flight, flying they desert their towns and houses: the child Ganymedes drives about the hares on mount Ida.—In the midst of these transactions the King of France, sending without delay, asks an honourable truce of the King of England. The king accedes to his request, soon afterwards turning his reins: the grateful hour will arrive when it is least expected.—Who knows not that that would be the best hour for the Scots, in which the sword ceases from the weeping commonalty, and the king unites and honours the nobles. While it is warm and fair weather, the ant labours.—After all these warlike labours, the English like angels are always conquerors, they are more excellent than the Scotch and Welsh; you will learn people’s manners by contemplating their lives.—As though a swine should resist the valour of the lion, so the filthy Scots attack England; and the king for that reason reduces them to slavery: he will ever be a slave, who cannot be content with the little which Providence has given him.]

The following verses seem to have been written immediately after John Baliol had retired to Normandy, in 1290. In the manuscript, they are accompanied by a picture representing a ship, full of people, passing the sea.

ON THE DEPOSITION OF BALIOL.

[From MS. Cotton. Julius, A. V. fol. 2, r^o. of beginning of 14th cent.]

Translation.—Lo! the time is come when the Scots are without a prince; Baliol loses the kingdom, and passes the sea alone. The Scot, hoping to be defended in battle by the new spear of the French, is waiting for their power. The Scots rejoice together in the belief that they will have the better in the war by the aid of the French; they rebel, and haste to fight. France will profit little the Scot in the field. Why has the Scot been beaten in three battles? By the fourth battle the Scots are reduced to extremities: such as they are and will ever be, very many songs tell. He who learnt songs conquered Troy in battle; Ovid has told us what was the cause of it. After the war, Troy was barren of maidens; when the rebellion is over, so will Scotland be of Scots. Troy is ravaged by war, the land near about being full of camps, it is with its boundaries become the property of another. The son of Achilles rules over the cities and towns; Pyrrhus lays them waste, Æneas has wept for Priam. Merlin writes that the proud crowd shall perish; the barking dog shall depart, and the ox shall go into exile. Then shall the Eutherian grove be stripped of its feathered branches; and the Albanian race will see their kingdom perish. Wretched Scot, lament, thy hour of weeping is now come; for the kingdom of thy forefathers ceases to be thine. Thou art deprived of a prince, and art so trodden down in the field, that by thy ill merits thou wilt always be an ass. A voice from the bottom of the Cambine waters calls thee, to be punished with such slaughter as the race of Adam has not yet seen. Hasten thither, and become the companion of the devil! Andrew will no longer be their leader.