English Prose and Verse from Beowulf to Stevenson

A good womán is manės bliss,
When her love right and steadfast is.
No solace is there 'neath the sky,
Of all that man may name or try,
That man to joy so greatly moves
As a good woman that truly loves.
Nor dearer is none in all God's herd
Than a chaste woman with lovely word.

CURSOR MUNDI1

(c. 1320-1325)

THE PROLOGUE

Man yearneth rimes for to hear,

And romances of strange mattére,
Of Alisaundere2 the conquerour,
Of Julius Caesar the emperour,

Of Greece and Troy the strange strife
Where many thousand lost their life;
Of Brut, that hero bold of hand,
First conquerour of Engeland;
Of King Arthour that was so rike3
Whom no one in his time was like;
Of wonders that his knights befell
Adventures many as I've heard tell,
As Gawain, Kay, and others stable,
For they were men of the Round Table;

How that Joséph was bought and sold;
How Moses 'midst the Jews arose,
That Goddes folk to lead them chose;
How God the law to him did give
By which the Jewish folk should live.
Of Saul the king, and David too
How he Goliath fought and slew;
And next of Solomon the Wise,
How craftily he did justice;

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How Charles and Roland waged their fight, 15
With Sarcens they no troth would plight;
Of Tristrem and his dear Ysote
How he for her became a sote;4
Of Joneck and of Ysambrase,
Of Ydoine and of Amadase,
Stories alsó of sundry things,
Of princes, prelates, and of kings,
Many songs of storied rime,
English, Frankish, and Latine.
To read and hear each one is prest
Of whatsoe'er he likes the best;
The wise man will of wisdom hear,
The fool to folly draws him near;
The wrong to hear of right is loath,
And pride with buxomness is wroth.

But by the fruit the wise may see
Of what vertú is every tree.
All sorts of fruit that man shall find
Must draw from out the root their kind;
From goodly pear-trees come good pears,
Worse tree, the worse the fruit it bears.
That I should speak from this same tree
Betokens, man, both me and thee;
This fruit betokens all our deeds,
Both good and ill who rightly reads.
Our dedės in our hearts take root,
Whether they be for bale or boot;
For by the thing man draweth untó
For good or ill men shall him know.

How Christ came down through prophecy, And how He came His folk to buy.

Both of the first and of the last,

And in what course this world is past.

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Those things that Holy Church doth state

In this same book I now translate.

Must be the speech that men most need.
Seldom was by any chance
Praised the English tongue in France;
Do we the same to their language
Methinks we do them no outrage.
For unleared Englishman I spell,
That understandeth what I tell,
And specially I those address
That all their lives in idleness
On trifles waste and beggars' lies,
To them I say: "Take care, be wise,
And well unto my words attend,
And all your way with might amend."
Ill have they who in spending spend,
And find no fruit thereof at end. . .

Now from this prologue we will blinne,7
And in Christ's name our book begin:
Cursor o' World men ought it call,
For almost it o'er runs it all.
Take we our beginning than

From Him who all the world began.

Richard Rolle of Hampole

died 1349

THE INFANT

(From The Pricke of Conscience,1 c. 1340) [When man] was born to this world's light, He had not either strength or might, Either to walk or yet to stand, Nor to creep with foot and hand.

Then has the man less might than beast;
When he is born, he seems the least;
For a beast, when it is born, may go
And run soon after to and fro;
But a man has no might thereto,
When he is born, such things to do;
For then he may not stand nor creep,
But only sprawl and cry and weep.
For a child is scarcely born before
It has begun to cry and roar;
And by that cry men tell truly
Whether it man or woman be.
When it is born it cries such way:
For if it be man it says "a, a,'

As the first in Father Adam's name.

So that the letter is the same

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There is all might and power secure;

And there an endless home made sure;

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There too are all delights and ease,

And sure tranquility and peace;

There peaceful joy forever is,

And pleasure there and lasting bliss. . .

...

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E is the foremost letter in

Eve's name, who brought us death and sin.
Hence a clerk made in this manere,
This line in metre written here:

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There is accord, and its due mede
Is given aye to each good deed;
There's lowly awe and reverence,
And meekness and obedience;
There are all virtues and no sin,
All dainties and delights therein,
All wisdom's there from folly free,
And honour without villany. . .

There is brightness and beautie
In everything that men shall see;
There joys are free and general,
But the most sovereign joy of all
Is the blest sight of God's bright face,
Beyond all joys and all solace.

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Lawrence Minot

c. 1300-1352

THE BATTLE OF HALIDON HILL1 Listen, Lordings, if you will

Hear of the battle of Halidon Hill.

True King that sitteth on thy throne,
Unto thee I tell my tale,

And unto thee I bid a boon,

For thou art balm of all my bale.

As thou hast made the earth and moon,
And beasts and foulės great and smale,
Unto me send thy succour soon
Direct my deedės in this dale.

In this dale I droup2 and dare
For evil deeds that cost me dear,
For England had my heart great care,
When Edward went at first to were.3
The men of France were bold to fare
Against him with the shield and spere;
They turned again with sidės sair
And all their pomp not worth a pere.1
A pear is more of price sometide
Than all the boast of Normandie.
They sent their ships on ilka side
With flesh and wine and wheat and rye;
With heart and hand, 'tis not denied,
For to help Scotland gan they hie,
They fled and durst no deed abide
And all their boast not worth a flye.

They said it should full dear be bought, The land whence they were driven out. Philip Valois wordes wrought,

And said he should their foeman stay;
But all these words they went for naught,
Words must be meet or weak are they.

More menaces they boasting cry,
In spite of might they have their meed;
And many a night awake they lie
To harm all England by their deed;
But low is now that pride so high
Of those that were so stout on steed;
And some of them all naked lie
Not far from Berwick upon Tweed.

A little from that selfsame town, Halidon Hill that is the name, There was cracked many a crown Of the wild Scot and eke of tame.

Then was their banner borne all down,

To make such boasts they were to blame; But nathėless aye are they boune9

At Dundee now is done their dance, And wend they must another way Even through Flanders into France. On Philip Valois 10 fast cry they, There for to dwell and him advance. And nothing list they now to play Since them befell this sorry chance.

Sir John Comyn" had they struck down,
In holy kirk they did him quell;12
So many a Scottish bride makes moan
With dolour dight13 there must they dwell.

That were before so stout and gay.

Man in this world was never born,
Who, if he Orpheo sat beforn,
And once might of his harping hear,
But he should thinkė that he were
In one of the joys of Paradis,
Such music in his harping is.
Orpheo lived in Crasséns,

A city noble in defence,

He hath a queen full fair of pris,3
That called is Dame Erodys,

The fairest woman for the nonės

That might be made of flesh and bones,

Full of all love and of goodness,

No man may tell of her fairness.

It befel in time of May,

When is merry and pleasing the summer's day,
Away have gone the winter's showers,
And every field is full of flowers,
Of blossoms springing on the bough,
O'er all the land 'tis merry enow,-
That this same Queen, Dame Erodys,
Took with her maidens two of pris,
And walked in the undertide 5
To play within her orchard-side,
To see the flowers spread and spring,
And see and hear the sweet birds sing.
Then down they seated them all three,
Fairly beneath an ympė tree,"

And full soon that fairest queen,
Fell fast asleep upon the green,
The maidens durst not her awake,

But round her they 'gan merry make,
And let her sleep till afternoon
When the undertide was gone;
And as soon as she gan wake

She cried, and loathsome 'gan her make,
Her hands and eke her feet she tore,
And scratched her till she bled full sore;
Her clothing rich she all to-rent,
All wild out of her wittes went.
The maidens two that sat beside,
They durst no longer there abide,
But straightway sought the castle hall
And told both knights and squires all,
How that their Queen away would go.
The knights went also, and ladies too,
And demoiselles fifty and many mo,7
To fetch her as they fain would do.
Into the orchard ran they out
And took her in their armes stout,
And brought her to her bed at last
And therein held her down full fast;
But still she cried in angry mood,
And rent herself as she were wode.s
When heard the King this dread tidíng,
He was never so woe for any thing.
The King came with his knightės keen '
Into the chamber to his Queen,
And for her had he great pitie.
"Sweet heart," he said, "how may this be,
That thou who ever wert so still,
Shouldst now cry out so loud and shrill?
Thy body that was white beforn,
Now with thy nails is rent and torn.

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6 Grafted tree.

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