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Than all perquer he suld it wyt;
DEATH OF SIR HENRY DE BOHUN.
(From "The Bruce.") And when the king wist that they were In hale battle, comand sae near,
complete His battle gart he weel array.
cansed He rade upon a little palfrey, Lawcht and joly arrayand His battle, with an ax in hand. And on his bassinet he bare An hat of tyre aboon ay where; And, thereupon, into takin,
token Ane high crown, that he was king. And when Gloster and Hereford were With their battle approachand near, Before them all there came ridand,
riding With helm on heid and spear in hands
head Sir Henry the Boon, the worthy, That was a wicht knicht, and a hardy,
strons And to the Earl of Hereford cousin ; Armed in arms gude and fine; Came on a steed a bowshot near, Before other that there were: And knew the king, for that he saw Him sae range his men on raw, And by the crown that was set Also upon his bassinet. And towards him he went in hy.
haste And the king sae apertly
plainly Saw him come, forouth all his fears, before, companions In hy till him the horse he steers.
haste, to And when Sir Henry saw the king Come on, foroutin abasing,
not put about Till him he rode in great hy. He thought that he should weel lichtly
very easily Win him, and have him at his will, Sin' he him horsit saw sae ill.
horsed Sprent they samen intill a lyng ; sprang, together, line Sir Henry missed the noble king;
And he that in his stirrups stude,
dash That near the head till the harns clave. The hand-ax shaft frushit in tway;
shivered, two And he down to the yird gan gae earth, began, go All flatlings, for him failit micht.
failed This was the first straik of the ficht,
fight That was performit douchtily. And when the king's men sae stoutly Saw him, richt at the first meeting, Forouten doubt or abasing,
not put about Have slain a knicht sae at a straik,
stroke Sic hardment thereat gan they tak, encouragement That they come on richt hardily. When Englishmen saw them sae stoutly Come on, they had great abasing;
depression And specially for that the king Sae smartly that gude knicht has slain, That they withdrew them everilk ane,
every And durst not ane abide to ficht: Sae dreid they for the king's micht.
dread When that the king repairit was,
returned That gart his men all leave the chase,
caused The lordis of his company Blamed him, as they durst, greatumly, That he him put in aventure, To meet sae stith a knicht and stour, stout, strong In sic point as he then was seen.
such, state For they said weel, it micht have been Cause of their tynsal everilk ane.
destruction The king answer has made them nane, But mainit his hand-ax shaft sae
lamented Was with the straik broken in tway.
And on the smalle greene twistis sat
twigs The little sweete nightingale, and sung So loud and clear, the hymnis consecrat Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among, That all the gardens and the wallis rung Right of their song.
-Cast I dowli mine eyes again Where as I saw, walking under the Tower, Full secretly, new comen hear to plain, The fairest and the freshest young flower That ever I saw, methought, before that hour, For which sudden abate, anon astart, went and came The blood of all my body to my heart. And though I stood abasit tho a lite, No wonder was ; for why? my wittis all Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight, Only through letting of my eyen fall, That suddenly my heart became her thrall, For ever of free will-for of menace There was no token in her sweete face. And in my head I drew right hastily, And eftesoons I leant it out again,
Ah, sweet! are ye a worldly creature,
fly If ye be warldly wight, that doth me sike
sigh Why list God make you so, my dearest heart, To do a seely prisoner this smart,
wretched That loves you all, and wot of nought but wo? And therefore mercy, sweet ! sin' it is so.'
Of her array the form if I shall write,
spangles Forged of shape like to the amorets,
love-knots So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold The plumis eke like to the flower jonets ; And other of shape, like to the flower jonets; And above all this, there was, well I wot, Beauty enough to make a world to dote. About her neck, white as the fire amail,
enamel A goodly chain of small orfevory,
gold work Whereby there hung a ruby, without fail, Like to ane heart shapen verily, That as a spark of lowe so wantonly
Aame Seemed burning upon her white throat, Now if there was good party, God it wot.
match And when she walked had, a little thraw, Under the sweete greene boughis bent, Her fair fresh face, as white as any snaw, She turned has, and furth her wayis went ; But tho began mine aches and torment, To see her part and follow I na might; Methought the day was turned into night.