1

Confused þei went away þat fals companie,
pei failed of per pray, to hauen gan þei bie,
& hired pam a schip, gaf siluere largelie,

1

To Scotlond gan þei skip, þe wýnde was þam redie.

EDWARD vnderstode, porgh oft heryng say,
How þe fals blode compassed tene & tray.

He mad his pilgrimage to Saynt Thomas of Kent,
Sipen North on his viage to Beuerley he went,

› Perigrina- Bifor Saynt Jon he woke a night or he þien nam,
To gork þe gate he toke, & souht Saynt William,

tus est Rex.

M. CC. ? LXXXIX®. Bellum apud Faukirk.

Saynt Cutbert he souht, to help him at his nede,
Sipen he dred him noubt, Northward als he gede.
Northward in his weie he held his parlement,
To speke & to purueie to be of on assent,
To Scotlond forto go, to take vengement
Of þam his folk did slo, destroied his tenement,
& how þei were alle lorn, þat com to pat couent.
For bei were forsuorn, vengeance on þam went.
þe date was a pousand, pre hundred alle bot one,
At Foukirke in Scotlond, Scottis escapid none.

T

ON þe Maudeleyn day, a litelle bifor Lammesse,,

Of Scotlond & Galway com mykelle folk alle fresse,

Of pe Marche & pe ildes, a spere pei suld bring,

þei com pe lond to schilde, to Faukirke in pe mornyng.
Our Inglis men & þei þer togidere mette,

per formast conrey, þer bakkis togidere sette,

2
'Sic. Sic.

per speres poynt ouer poynt, so sare & o pikke,
& fast togidere joynt, to se it was ferlike.

Als a castelle pei stode, þat were walled with stone,
þei wende no man of blode, porgh þam suld haf gone.
per folk was so mykelle, so stalworth & so elene,
per foyntes forward prikelle, nonhut wild þei wene,
þat if alle Inglond fro Berwik vnto Kent,

be folk perin men fond had bien þider sent,
Stength suld non haf had, to perte pam þorgh oute,
So wer þei set sad with poyntes rounde aboute.
be kyng sauh pam comand so sadly in be mede,
His folk he did with stand, & dight þam alle to dede,
Sipen he to pam said, "go we per God vs spede.
þer lances alle forth laid, & ilk man broched his stede,
þei sauh kynge's banere, raumpand pre lebardes,
þer hors folk alle plenere, þei fled as fals cowardes.
be fotefolk left alon, if bei wild stand or fle,
Help had þei non, of þam þer hede suld be.
pus pe Waleis wrouht, & said pan þis bi skille,
"To be renge ere ze brouht, hop now if ze wille.
þer scheltron sone was shad with Inglis þat were gode,
Pite of non pei had, bot alle to dede gode,

Als fleihes doun þei fleih, ten pousand at ones.
To stand non ne degh, bot felle doun als stones.
Bituex prime & none alle voide was be place.
be bataile slayn & done alle within pat space.
1 Was

no man Inglis maỷnhed no dede þat day, Bot a templer of pris, Sir Brian þe geay,

Et nes vn des Englays | fu mort ne maygne, Fors

Ad Faukirke.

Maister templere he was on þis half þe se,
He folowed pe Scottis pas, whan pe bigan to fle,
Fer in tille a wod, men calle it Kalenters,
þer in a mire a mod, withouten help of fers,
Slouh þei Sir Brian alon wiþouten mo.
Allas! pat douhty man, þat he so fer suld go !
þe Walsch folk þat tide did nouþer ille no gode,
þei held þam alle bi side, opon a hille þei stode.
þer þei stode þat while, tille the bataile was don,
Was neuer withouten gile Walsh man no Breton.
For þei were euer in wehere, men so of þam told,
Whilk was best bauere, with þat side forto hold.

Dicta San- I Saynt Bede sais it for lore, & I say it in ryme,
Walsh man salle neuer more luf Inglis man no tỷme.

cti Bedæ.

Expedivit

se ad nupcias secun

dum mandatum рара.

7

AFTER pis bataile þe kŷng turned ageŷn,

Ouer þat fals pedaile he ordeýnd a wardeŷn,

þat held þam in suilk awe, þei durst no more rise,

þorgh smerthed of þe law he did þam justise.

He zared his 'his'' wendyng, to London gan him rape,
pider him com tiping, lettres fro be pape,

& bad þat he suld take þe kýng sister of France,
For Gascoyn pes to make porgh þat aliance,
Not dame Blanche pe suete, pat I first of spake,
Bot dame Margarete, gode withouten läk.

¶ þe pape's maundement he resceyued curtasly,
Bi tyme þat it were ent he dight þerto redý,

Bryan de Jay, chiualer alo.
se, Haut mestre du temple

de ca mere assigne, &c. MSS. Gall. 4. Dele.

In purueiance of alle as he had most to don
So com þe erle Marschalle baitand to London
Of Herford þe erle Umfray also com he þidere,
& oper barons of nobley, & alle samned togidere.
be erle for þam alle with luf bisouht þe kýng,
Of poyntis behoued falle, do þam at þer praying.
"Withoute any delay do mak pe purale

"Be a certeŷn day, Sir, þat pray we þe.

þe kyng wild his might delaied it were alle weys,
Nopeles semand bi sight his ansuere was curteys.
He schewed pe erle Rogere pe pape's mandement,
He might on no manere do nouht or it were ent,
Bot he suore on his fayth, & certeÿnly þan hete,
Whan it were don in grayth þe weddýng of Margarete,
To mak be purale, it suld not be delaied,
With suilk men suld it be, þat þei suld hald þam paied.
So faire with his respons, so faithfulle bei bisemed
Bope erles & barons, his wordes alle bei quemed,
be erle Unfray þat was, for euer tok his leue,

þe dede him slonh, allas! tille his pers it gan greue.

I

THE
pape pan sent his bulle vnt Philip of France,
curte of Rome fulle has ordand aliance,

þat þe kyng Edward suld wed Margarete,
& in þat ilk forward, þer werryng suld þei lete
For euer in Gascoyn of alle maner of skille,
Without any essoýn, Philip grantid þer tille.
Philip for þat may mad purueiance redy,
With folk of gode aray to Douer com in hỷ,
'Pro, vnto.

Pulcra promissio Regis & vana.

Bulla рарӕ.

&

& per oure Inglis men resceyued fulle miry.

þe barons alle with blis brouht hir to Canterbiri,
& as pe courte of Rome had ordeynd þat spousale,
Right opon þat dome he weddid hir sanzfaile.
De nupciis Robert of Wynchelse, pat corseynt is verray,
Did þat solempnite opon a Wednesday,

Regis &
Marga-

retæ.

Next þe lattere fest þat is of our Lady.

þe Wednesday formest þe kyng had fulle grete hý,
For on pe morn he went his way toward Scotland,
With ille auisement he did, & þat he fand.
Whan he was in þe Marche, he samned his oste,
þan was it bot a parche, & litelle with pe loste,
For him self alone toke þat viage,

Help asked he none of alle his baronage,
þat was for þe purale, þat he had þam hette,
He wild not do þer gre, þat terme þat he sette.
þe Scottis wist þat wele, & schewed him þe vis,
þer side was ilk a dele, in poynt to wýnne þe pris.
Boldely pei bed bataile with visage fulle austere,
þe kynge's side gan faile, for he had no powere.
Ferrere mot he nouht, Scotlond forto se,
þat týme no þing he wrouht, bot spendid his mone.
þe marche vnder wardeyn he left als it was ore,
Unto pe South ageŷn he went, & did no more.
Whi þat he not sped, pis skille mot it be,
With hauelon þam led, to mak þe purale.

The