Anonymous Olde English

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On The Death Of K. Edward The First Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABACBDBD AEAEEFEF GHGHAHAH GFGFFGF IGBGGFGF JGJGGHG GHGHHEHE FGFKLIKI HHHMFGH IGIGGDGD DFDFHFHF GFI

Alle that beoth of huerte treweA
A stounde herkneth to my songB
Of duel that Deth hath diht us neweA
That maketh me syke ant sorewe amongC
Of a knyght that wes so strongB
Of wham God hath don ys willeD
Me thuncheth that deth hath don us wrongB
That he so sone shall ligge stilleD
-
Al Englond ahte for te knoweA
Of wham that song is that y syngeE
Of Edward Kyng that lith so loweA
Zent al this world is nome con springeE
Trewest mon of all thingeE
Ant in werre war ant wysF
For him we ahte oure honden wryngeE
Of Christendome he ber the prysF
-
Byfore that oure kyng was dedG
He spek ase mon that wes in careH
'Clerkes knyhtes barons ' he saydeG
'Y charge ou by oure swareH
That ye to Engelonde be treweA
Y deze y ne may lyven na moreH
Helpeth mi sone ant crouneth him neweA
For he is nest to buen y coreH
-
'Ich biqueth myn herte arhytG
That hit be write at my devysF
Over the sea that Hue be dihtG
With fourscore knyhtes al of prysF
In werre that buen war ant wysF
Azein the hethene for te fyhteG
To wynne the croiz that lowe lysF
Myself ycholde zef that y myhte '-
-
King of Fraunce thou hevedest 'sinne'I
That thou the counsail woldest fondeG
To latte the wille of 'Edward Kyng'B
To wende to the Holy LondeG
That oure kynge hede take on hondeG
All Engelond to zeme ant wysseF
To wenden in to the Holy LondeG
To wynnen us heveriche blisseF
-
The messager to the Pope comJ
And seyde that our kynge was dedG
Ys oune hond the lettre he nomJ
Ywis his herte was full gretG
The Pope him self the lettre reddeG
Ant spec a word of gret honourH
'Alas ' he seid 'is Edward dedG
Of Christendome he ber the flour '-
-
The Pope to his chaumbre wendeG
For dol ne mihte he speke na moreH
Ant after cardinals he sendeG
That muche couthen of Cristes loreH
Bothe the lass ant eke the moreH
Bed hem both rede ant syngeE
Gret deol me myhte se thoreH
Mony mon is honde wryngeE
-
The Pope of Peyters stod at is masseF
With ful gret solempneteG
Ther me con the soule blesseF
'Kyng Edward honoured thou beK
God love thi sone come after theL
Bringe to ende that thou hast bygonneI
The holy crois y mad of treeK
So fain thou woldest hit hav y wonneI
-
'Jerusalem thou hast i loreH
The flour of al chivalrieH
Now Kyng Edward liveth na moreH
Alas that he zet shulde deyeM
He wolde ha rered up ful heyzeF
Oure banners that bueth broht to groundeG
Wel longe we mowe clepe and crieH
Er we a such kyng han y founde '-
-
Nou is Edward of CarnarvanI
Kyng of Engelond al aplyhtG
God lete him ner be worse manI
Then his fader ne lass of myhtG
To holden is pore men to ryhtG
And understonde good counsailD
Al Engelong for to wysse ant dyhtG
Of gode knyhtes darh him nout failD
-
Thah mi tonge were mad of stelD
Ant min herte yzote of brasF
The godness myht y never telleD
That with Kyng Edward wasF
Kyng as thou art cleped conquerourH
In uch bataille thou hadest prysF
God bringe thi soule to the honourH
That ever wes ant ever ysF
-
That lasteth ay withouten endeG
Bidde we God ant oure Ledy to thilke blisseF
Jesus we sende AmenI

Anonymous Olde English



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