The Brus Book Iii Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCDDEEBAFCGGHHGGEEHI AAHHJEEIIIIIKIEEAALH HHEBIIIJLHFFFFAAMMHH FA FFFFNCAAA GGFFFFHHIIFFEEFCFFIA EE I HHEFCIEEOIAAHHFFEHHH HHEHHHHHIIHHFFHHFFFH FFAAOOHHIIEEHE G GGEHHHAAEEHFAAHHHHNH H FO FNOEECCE HHHHAA EE HHGGHHGGHHHHGGEEEEHH HHAAMMEEGGI

The lord of Lorn attacks the king's menA
-
-
The lord off Lorne wonnyt thar byB
That wes capitale ennymyC
To the king for his emys sakD
Jhon Comyn and thocht for to takD
Vengeance apon cruell manerE
Quhen he the king wyst wes sa nerE
He assemblyt his men in hyB
And had intill his cumpanyA
The barounys off Argyle alsuaF
Thai war a thousand weill or maC
And come for to suppris the kingG
That weill wes war of thar cummyngG
Bot all to few with him he hadH
The quhethir he bauldly thaim abaidH
And weill ost at thar fryst metyngG
War layd at erd but recoveryngG
The kingis folk full weill thaim barE
And slew and fellyt and woundyt sarE
Bot the folk off the tother partyH
Faucht with axys sa fellylyI
For thai on fute war everilkaneA
That thai feile off thar hors has slayneA
And till sum gaiff thai woundis widH
James off Douglas wes hurt that tydH
And als Schyr Gilbert de le HayJ
The king his men saw in affrayE
And his ensenye can he cryE
And amang thaim rycht hardylyI
He rad that he thaim ruschyt allI
And fele off thaim thar gert he fallI
Bot quhen he saw thai war sa feillI
And saw thaim swa gret dyntis deillI
He dred to tyne his folk forthiK
His men till him he gan relyI
And said 'Lordyngis foly it warE
Tyll us for till assembill marE
For thai fele off our hors has slaynA
And giff yhe fecht with thaim agaynA
We sall tyne off our small mengyeL
And our selff sall in perill beH
Tharfor me thynk maist avenandH
To withdraw us us defendandH
Till we cum out off thar daungerE
For our strenth at our hand is ner 'B
Then thai withdrew thaim halelyI
Bot that wes nocht full cowartlyI
For samyn intill a sop held thaiI
And the king him abandonyt ayJ
To defend behind his mengyeL
And throu his worschip sa wrouch heH
That he reskewyt all the flearisF
And styntyt swagat the chassarisF
That nane durst out off batall chasF
For alwayis at thar hand he wasF
Sa weile defendyt he his menA
That quha sa ever had seyne him thenA
Prove sa worthely vasselageM
And turn sa oft sythis the visageM
He suld say he aucht weill to beH
A king off a gret reawtH
-
Comparisons from Celtic and classical legends with the king'sF
defence of his menA
-
Quhen that the lord off Lorne sawF
His men stand off him ane sik awF
That thai durst nocht folow the chaseF
Rycht angry in his hart he wasF
And for wondyr that he suld swaN
Stot thaim him ane but maC
He said 'Me think Marthokys soneA
Rycht as Golmakmorn was woneA
To haiff fra Fyn all his mengneA
Rycht swa all his fra us has he '-
He set ensample thus mydlikeG
The quhethir he mycht mar manerlikG
Lyknyt hym to Gaudifer de LarysF
Quhen that the mychty Duk BetysF
Assailyeit in Gadyrris the forrayoursF
And quhen the king thaim maid rescoursF
Duk Betys tuk on him the flychtH
That wald ne mar abid to fychtH
Bot Gaudifer the worthiI
Abandonyt him so worthylyI
For to reskew all the fleierisF
And for to stonay the chasserisF
That Alysander to erth he barE
And alsua did he TholimarE
And gud Coneus alsuaF
Danklyne alsua and othir maC
Bot at the last thar slayne he wesF
In that failyeit the liklynesF
For the king full chevalruslyI
Defendyt all his cumpanyA
And wes set in full gret dangerE
And yeit eschapyt haile and ferE
-
The king kills the two Mac na Dorsair brothers and their fellowI
-
Twa brethir war in that landH
That war the hardiest off handH
That war intill all that cuntreE
And thai had sworn iff thai mycht seF
The Bruys quhar thai mycht him our taC
That thai suld dey or then hym slaI
Thar surname wes Makyne DrosserE
That is al so mekill to say herE
As the Durwarth sonnys perfayO
Off thar covyne the thrid had thaiI
That wes rycht stout ill and felouneA
Quhen thai the king off gud renouneA
Saw sua behind his mengne ridH
And saw him torne sa mony tidH
Thai abaid till that he wasF
Entryt in ane narow placeF
Betwix a louch sid and a braE
That wes sa strait Ik undertaH
That he mycht nocht weill turn in his stedH
Then with a will till him thai yedeH
And ane him by the bridill hyntH
Bot he raucht till him sic a dyntH
That arme and schuldyr flaw him fraE
With that ane other gan him taH
Be the lege and his hand gan schuteH
Betwix the sterap and his futeH
And quhen the king feld thar his handH
In his sterapys stythly gan he standH
And strak with spuris the stede in hyI
And he lansyt furth delyverlyI
Swa that the tother failyeit feteH
And nocht for thi his hand wes yeitH
Undyr the sterap magr hisF
The thrid with full gret hy with thisF
Rycht till the bra syd he yeidH
And stert behynd hym on his stedH
The king wes then in full gret presF
The quhether he thocht as he that wesF
In all hys dedys avisF
To do ane outrageous bounteH
And syne hyme that behynd him wasF
All magr his will him gan he rasF
Fra behynd him thocht he had swornA
He laid hym evyn him befornA
Syne with the swerd sic dynt hym gaveO
That he the heid till the harnys claveO
He rouschit doun off blud all redeH
As he that stound feld off dedeH
And then the king in full gret hyI
Strak at the tothir vigoruslyI
That he efter his sterap drewE
That at the fyrst strak he him slewE
On this wis him delyverit heH
Off all thai felloun fayis threE
-
Mac Nachtan praises the kingG
-
Quhen thai of Lorne has sene the kingG
Set in hym selff sa gret helpingG
And defendyt him sa manlelyE
Wes nane amang thaim sa hardyH
That durst assailye him mar in fychtH
Sa dred thai for his mekill mychtH
Thar wes a baroune MaknauchtanA
That in his hart gret kep has taneA
To the kingis chevalryE
And prisyt him in hert gretlyE
And to the lord off Lorne said heH
'Sekyrly now may ye seF
Be tane the starkest pundelanA
That evyr your lyfftyme ye saw taneA
For yone knycht throu his douchti deidH
And thro his outrageous manheidH
Has fellyt intill litill tydH
Thre men off mekill pridH
And stonayit all our mengye swaN
That eftyr him dar na man gaH
And tournys sa mony tyme his stedeH
That semys off us he had na dred '-
Then gane the lord off Lorn sayF
'It semys it likis ye perfayO
That he slayis yongat our mengye '-
'Schyr ' said he 'sa Our Lord me seF
To sauff your presence it is nocht swaN
Bot quhether sa he be freynd or faO
That wynnys prys off chevalryE
Men suld spek tharoff lelylyE
And sekyrly in all my tymeC
Ik hard never in sang na rymeC
Tell off a man that swa smertlyE
Eschevyt swa gret chevalry '-
Sic speking off the king thai maidH
And he eftyr his mengye raidH
And intill saufte thaim ledH
Quhar he his fayis na thing dredH
And thai off Lorne agayn ar gaynA
Menand the scaith that thai haiff taynA
-
The king comforts his men with the exampleE
of the recovery of Rome from HannibalE
-
The king that nycht his wachis setH
And gert ordayne that thai mycht etH
And bad conford to thaim takG
And at thar mychtis mery makG
For disconford as then said heH
Is the werst thing that may beH
For throu mekill disconfortingG
Men fallis oft into disparingG
And fra a man disparyt beH
Then utraly vencusyt is heH
And fra the hart be discumfytH
The body is nocht worth a mytH
'Tharfor ' he said 'atour all thingG
Kepys you fra disparyngG
And think thouch we now harmys feleE
That God may yeit releve us weillE
Men redys off mony men that warE
Fer harder stad then we yhet arE
And syne Our Lord sic grace thaim lentH
That thai come weill till thar ententH
For Rome quhilum sa hard wes stadH
Quhen Hanniball thaim vencusyt hadH
That off ryngis with rich staneA
That war off knychtis fyngeris taneA
He send thre bollis to CartageM
And syne to Rome tuk his viageM
Thar to distroye the cite allE
And thai within bath gret and smallE
Had fled quhen thai saw his cummyngG
Had nocht bene Scipio the kingG
That or thaiI

John Barbour



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