A WODE.
Reading edition
HURRA, DANES.
HURRA.
Heere ynn yis forreste lette us watche for pree, Bewreckeynge on oure foemenne oure ylle warre; Whatteverre schalle be Englysch wee wylle slea, Spreddynge our ugsomme rennome to afarre. Ye Dacyanne menne, gyff Dacyanne menne yee are, 980 Lette nete botte blodde suffycyle for yee bee; On everich breaste yn gorie letteres scarre, Whatt sprytes you have, & howe those sprytes maie dree. And gyf yee gette awaie to Denmarkes shore, Eftesoones we will retourne, & vanquished bee ne moere. 985
The battelle loste, a battelle was yndede; Note queedes hemselfes culde stonde so harde a fraie; Oure verie armoure, & oure heaulmes dyd blede, The Dacyannes, sprytes, lyche dewe drops, fledde awaie. Ytte was an Ælla dyd commaunde the daie; 990 Ynn spyte of foemanne, I moste saie hys myghte; Botte wee ynn hynd-lettes blodde the loss wylle paie, Brynnynge, thatte we knowe howe to wynne yn fyghte; Wee wylle, lyke wylfes enloosed from chaynes, destroie;— Oure armoures—wynter nyghte shotte oute the daie of joie. 995
Whene swefte-fote tyme doe rolle the daie alonge, Somme hamlette scalle onto oure fhuyrie brende; Brastynge alyche a rocke, or mountayne stronge, The talle chyrche-spyre upon the grene shalle bende; Wee wylle the walles, & auntyante tourrettes rende, 1000 Pete everych tree whych goldyn fruyte doe beere, Downe to the goddes the ownerrs dhereof sende, Besprengynge alle abrode sadde warre & bloddie weere. Botte fyrste to yynder oke-tree wee wylle flie; And thence wylle yssue owte onne all yatte commeth bie. 1005