| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
|
||
|
OP SIR SIMON FRASEK. 277 |
||
|
|
||
|
Duere he shal abugge
That he bigon batayle.
Hii that him crounede proude were ant bolde, 65 Hii maden kyng of somer, so hii ner ne sholde, Hii setten on ys heved a croune of rede golde, Ant token him a kyneyerde, so me kyDg sholde, To deme. Tho he wes set in see, n>
Lutel god couthe he Kyneriche to yeme.
Nou kyng Hobbe in the mures yongeth, For te come to toune nout him ne longeth ; The barouns of Engelond, myhte hue him grype, re He him wolde techen on Englysshe to pype, Thourh streynthe: Ne be he ner so stout, Yet he bith ysoht out
O brede ant o leynthe. a>
Sire Edward of Carnarvan, (Jhesu him save ant see!) Sire Emer de Valence, gentil knyht ant free, Habbeth ysuore huere oht that, par la grace die, Hee wolleth ous delyvren of that false eontree,
Yef hii conne. 83
Muehe hath Seotlond forlore, Whet alast, whet bifore, Ant lutel pris wonne.
66. Brace's wife, it is said, replied to her husband, when ho was boasting of his royal rank, "You are indeed a summer king, but you will scarce be a winter one," alluding to the ephemeral sovereignty of the Lord of the May. |
||
|
|
||