Whan he had serched alle, & knew ilk a coste, His man with pe cardinalle he sent to be prouoste. þe prouest mad grete joye for þat ilk sond,
It turnes bot tille pe bope, if Gode's grace may stond.
be clerke þat wrote pe lettere to Thomas Turbeuile,.
He pouht forto do bettere, þan kýng Edward to gile,
Tille on þat was priue þe kynge's conseiloure,
þe clerk lete him alle se pe dede of pat traytoure.
Whan Thomas was perceyued, his lettres wer away,
be kynge's courte he weyued, for he dred to deie.
A seruant þer was, þat wist whan Thomas fled,
Fulle sone after Thomas better pas he sped.
Opon pe prid day, at a toun hamelet,
Thomas was his pray, as he to mete was set.
Now Thomas taken es, & to London brouht:
Grete was be wikkednes, þat T. had wrouht.
To be justise he said, he wild speke with þe kỷng,
Of his traytours neid, to warn him of a þing.
T. þerfor was don to prison eft ageyn,
To be kyng als son þe sent bode certeyn.
At Malmesbirie pe kyng with his moder was,
Whan him com tiỷng of Turbuile Thomas.
He teld þe kyng ilk dele, Thomas wild speke with him,
& warn him he suld wele, whilk wer his traytours grym. Consilium
¶ His moder Helianore abated per grete bale.
"Sonne," said scho, "neuer more trowe ge traytours tale,
"Suilk traytours als he for hate wille mak a lie,
"borgh he whilk mot be vengeance & felonie.
"Sonne, on my blissýng, trowe pou not his sawe,
"Bot late him haf endyng, als a traytour þorgh lawe.
¶ þe kỷng wrote his lettere agayn to be Justise,
þat he wist non bettere, bot do him to Juwise,
For alle þat he has said he don vnder fote
Tille þis werld be, it it git no tỷme to mote.
¶ Now þe Turbeuile has his jugement,
Drawen is a while on London pauiment,
& sipen was he hanged as thef for treson,
Faire grace Edward fanged in his tribulacion.
Now is his wikhals dede þorgh vengeance, & pe Cardinals gon er in to France. Oft for pe pes with Philip mad bergayn, Unto pat conseil ches þe kyng of Almaýn, Clerkis bituex þam sent hidir to Edward, What per conseil ment, pe distance so hard. þe wrath was so grete bituex þise kynges tuo, Unnethis acorde þei schete, bot þus with mykelle wo. 1 To Kaunbray suld þei send men þat were of Gode, þat þer greuance kend, þe distance vnderstode. Clerkis & lewed men suld deme at Kaunbray, & trie pe soth & ken, in whom he wrong lay: To what manere of pes pe parties wille descend, & who he wrong first ches, pat partie suld amend. To po' ilk resons þe Inglis wer assent,
Bisshopes & barons were gode of po þat went.
To while our men were out, for to mak þe pes,
Men of armes stout pe kyng to Gascoyn ches.
Sir Edmound his broper pe first was redy,
1 Of Lyncoln þe erle a noper, Sir Henry þe Lacy,
Sir William þe Vescy wys man & bold baroun,
& oper lordes worpi, þat were of gode renoun.
Sex & tuenty baners of Inglond alder best,
Of armes pat knewe þe maners, to werre were alle prest. ¶ In Inglond were left als douhty as po,
Of þam þe kyng toke eft, to Scotlond wild he go.
be Scottis kyns withsaid, he auht him non homage,
Now þenkes he mak a braid, for þat grete outrage.
Of Marche þe first day at þe New castelle
Our kyng þer he lay, his purueiance so fel,
To Scotlond for to go, to wite whi & what wise,
per kyng & oper mo withsaid him his seruise.
A pousand & tuo hundred, fourscore & sexten,
On þe Scottes has many wondred, þat bigan his tene.
SIR Roberd Roos of Werk with pe Scottis fled,
He set so ille his merk, þat neuer eft he ne sped.
þe kyng his castelle sesis, & held þer his Pask day,
Him & his per esis, & alle pþat feste pþer lay.
þe Scottis did first mys, þei wakend alle þat wouh,
Tuo schippis of our Inglis, þe folk þer in þei slouh.
Sir Edward herd it telle, & dight him to Berwik,
No stounde wille he duelle, bot seged it also quik.
chiualer pruz & sage, MSS.
'Le Counte de Nichole, oue tote [vel of tut] son menage, Sire William de Vescy,
Milicia versus Aquitaniam.
De capcione Berwik
per totum die Veneris.
What did pan Sir Edward? pere he had non like,
Opon his stede bayard first he wan þe dike.
In Pask weke it was, pe Friday þei it wan,
In þe non týme felle pis cas, þat slayn was ilk a man,
þat were in Berwik' fourti þousand & mo,
Was non of þam left quik, bot alle to dede gede po.
Of þe Inglis sanz faile bot o knyght dede I wote,
Sir Richard of Cornwaile, a Flemmỳng him smote.
Right out of pe rede haule schot was a quarelle,
Fire þei fest on it alle, & brent it þat it felle.
be wardeyn of pe castelle sauh per chance fulle hard,
Untille mercy he felle, & galde him tille Edward.
William of Duglas galde him also tite.
Symon Freselle þer was, he wild haf don dispite.
He wend haf had fulle light, Edward at his wille,
Bot, panked be God alle myght, his prisoun leues he stille.
þe erle of pe Marche Patrik, lord of next cuntre,
He did no maner wik, be kyng gaf him his gre.
Sir Gilberd Umfreyvile wholom was with þe kyng,
Sir Robert Brus þat while ageyn him did no þing.
Golde & siluer pei fonde, & oper metalle plente,
Now has pe Baliol a stounde lorn issu & entre,
& on pc fairest toun, þat was in his pouste,
Of ricchesse it had renoun, þat felle to a cite.
Now is Berwik born doun, abaist is pat cuntre,
Jon gete pi coroun, þou losis þi dignite.
Now dos Edward dike Berwik brode & long,
Als þei bad him pike, & scorned him in þer song.
'Tis only four thousand, according to the French Copies.
Pikit him, & dikit him, on scorne said he,
He pikes & dikes in length, as him likes, how best it may be,
& pou has for pi pikyng, mykille ille likýng, pe sope is to se,
Without any lesyng, alle is þi heþing, fallen opon þe.
For scatred er þi Scottis, & hodred in þer hottes, neuer þei
ne the.
Right als I rede, pei tombled in Tuede, þat woned bi pe s
Now is Edward left Berwik forto dike,
pe Scottis er risen eft, Inglond to bisuike.
þe gadred þam an oste, fourti pousand & mo,
þat com bi an oper coste, pe Inglis forto slo.
pise were hede & meste, pat led þat meyne,
Rosse & Meneteste, Assetelle pise erles pre.
Corbrigge is a toun, þe brent it whan þei cam,
Tuo hous of religioun, Leynertofte & Hexham.
pei chaced pe chanons out, per godes bare away,
& robbed alle about, þe bestis tok to pray.
Whan þei had slayn & brent, robbed toun & feld,
To Dunbar alle þei went, als per vnhap wild.
þe2 castelle sone þei toke, & per par pauilloun
þe erle Patrik men schoke, it was his owen donjoun.
Edward herd it say, þat Dunbar was so taken,
His folk was sone on away, with sege to hold þam waken.
¶ In alle pis ilk goyng so com pe Cardinalle
Fro Kaunbray to be kyng with ansuere of alle,
They commonly call it, Lanercost. 2 Le chastel ount pris, estendent paullouns
Al count de la Marche, estoy-
ent les mesouns, MSS. Gall.
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