Battle Of Hastings - I Poem Rhyme Scheme

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O CHRYSTE it is a grief for me to tell	A
HOW manie a nobil erle and valrous knyghte	B
In fyghtynge for Kynge Harrold noblie fell	A
Al sleyne in Hastyngs feeld in bloudie fyghte	B
O sea our teeming donore han thy floude	B
Han anie fructuous entendement	B
Thou wouldst have rose and sank wyth tydes of bloude	B
Before Duke Wyllyam's knyghts han hither went	B
Whose cowart arrows manie erles sleyne	C
And brued the feeld wyth bloude as season rayne	C
	-
And of his knyghtes did eke full manie die	B
All passyng hie of mickle myghte echone	C
Whose poygnant arrowes typp'd with destynie	C
Caus'd manie wydowes to make myckle mone	C
Lordynges avaunt that chycken harted are	D
From out of hearynge quicklie now deparle	A
Full well I wote to synge of bloudie warre	D
Will greeve your tenderlie and mayden harte	B
Go do the weaklie womman inn mann's geare	D
And scond your mansion if grymm war come there	D
	-
Soone as the erlie maten belle was tolde	B
And sonne was come to byd us all good daie	B
Bothe armies on the feeld both brave and bolde	B
Prepar'd for fyghte in champyon arraie	D
As when two bulles destynde for Hocktide fyghte	B
Are yoked bie the necke within a sparre	D
Theie rend the erthe and travellyrs affryghte	B
Lackynge to gage the sportive bloudie warre	D
Soe lacked Harroldes menne to come to blowes	E
The Normans lacked for to wielde their bowes	E
	-
Kynge Harrolde turnynge to hys leegemen spake	F
My merrie men be not caste downe in mynde	B
Your onlie lode for aye to mar or make	F
Before yon sunne has donde his welke you'll fynde	B
Your lovyng wife who erst dyd rid the londe	B
Of Lurdanes and the treasure that you han	C
Wyll falle into the Normanne robber's honde	B
Unlesse with honde and harte you plaie the manne	C
Cheer up youre hartes chase sorrowe farre awaie	G
Godde and Seyncte Cuthbert be the worde to daie	B
	-
And thenne Duke Wyllyam to his knyghtes did saie	E
My merrie menne be bravelie everiche	H
Gif I do gayn the honore of the daie	B
Ech one of you I will make myckle riche	H
Beer you in mynde we for a kyngdomm fyghte	B
Lordshippes and honores echone shall possesse	E
Be this the worde to daie God and my Ryghte	B
Ne doubte but God will oure true cause blesse	E
The clarions then sounded sharpe and shrille	A
Deathdoeynge blades were out intent to kille	A
	-
And brave Kyng Harrolde had nowe donde hys saie	E
He threwe wythe myghte amayne hys shorte horse spear	D
The noise it made the duke to turn awaie	G
And hytt his knyghte de Beque upon the ear	D
His cristede beaver dyd him smalle abounde	B
The cruel spear went thorough all his hede	B
The purpel blonde came goushynge to the ground	B
And at Duke Wyllyam's feet he tumbled deade	B
So fell the myghtie tower of Standrip whenne	C
It felte the furie of the Danish menne	C
	-
O Afflem son of Cuthbert holie Sayncte	B
Come ayde thy freend and shewe Duke Wyllyams payne	C
Take up thy pencyl all hys features paincte	B
Thy coloryng excells a synger strayne	C
Duke Wyllyam sawe hys freende sleyne piteouslie	A
Hys lovynge freende whome he muche honored	B
For he han lovd hym from puerilitie	B
And theie together bothe han bin ybred	B
O in Duke Wyllyam's harte it raysde a flame	I
To whiche the rage of emptie wolves is tame	I
	-
He tooke a brasen crosse bowe in his honde	B
And drewe it harde with all hys myghte amein	C
Ne doubtyng but the bravest in the londe	B
Han by his soundynge arrowe lede bene sleyne	C
Alured's stede the fynest stede alive	J
Bye comelie forme knowlached from the rest	B
But nowe his destind howre did aryve	J
The arrowe hyt upon his milkwhite breste	B
So have I seen a ladie smock soe white	B
Blown in the mornynge and mowd downe at night	B
	-
With thilk a force it dyd his bodie gore	D
That in his tender guttes it entered	B
In veritee a fulle clothe yarde or more	D
And downe with flaiten noyse he sunken dede	B
Brave Alured benethe his faithfull horse	E
Was smeerd all over withe the gorie duste	B
And on hym laie the recer's lukewarme corse	E
That Alured coulde not hymself aluste	B
The standyng Normans drew theyr bowe echone	C
And broght full manie Englysh champyons downe	C
	-
The Normans kept aloofe at distaunce stylle	A
The Englysh nete but short horse spears could welde	B
The Englysh manie dethe sure dartes did kille	A
And manie arrowes twang'd upon the sheelde	B
Kynge Haroldes knyghts desir'de for hendie stroke	K
And marched furious o'er the bloudie pleyne	C
In bodie close and made the pleyne to smoke	K
Theire sheelds rebounded arrowes back agayne	C
The Normans stode aloof nor hede the same	I
Their arrowes woulde do dethe tho' from far of they came	I
	-
Duke Wyllyam drewe agen hys arrowe strynge	L
An arrowe withe a sylver hede drewe he	M
The arrowe dauncynge in the ayre dyd synge	L
And hytt the horse of Tosselyn on the knee	M
At this brave Tosslyn threwe his short horse speare	D
Duke Wyllyam stooped to avoyde the blowe	G
The yrone weapon hummed in his eare	D
And hitte Sir Doullie Naibor on the prowe	G
Upon his helme foe surious was the stroke	K
It splete his bever and the ryvets broke	K
	-
Downe fell the beaver by Tosslyn splete in tweine	M
And onn his hede expos'd a punie wounde	B
But on Destoutvilles sholder came ameine	M
And fell'd the champyon to the bloudie grounde	B
Then Doullie myghte his bowestrynge drewe	G
Enthoughte to gyve brave Tosslyn bloudie wounde	B
But Harolde's asenglave stopp'd it as it flewe	G
And it fell bootless on the bloudie grounde	B
Siere Doullie when he sawe hys venge thus broke	K
Death doynge blade from out the scabard toke	K
	-
And now the battail closde on everych syde	B
And face to face appeard the knyghts full brave	J
They lifted up theire bylles with myckle pryde	B
And manie woundes unto the Normans gave	J
So have I sene two weirs at once give grounde	B
White fomyng hygh to rorynge combat runne	M
In roaryng dyn and heaven breaking sounde	B
Burste waves on waves and spangle in the sunne	M
And when their myghte in burstynge waves is fled	B
Like cowards stele alonge their ozy bede	B
	-
Yonge Egelrede a knyghte of comelie mien	M
Affynd unto the kynge of Dynefarre	D
At echone tylte and tourney he was seene	M
And lov'd to be amonge the bloudie warre	D
He couch'd hys launce and ran wyth mickle myghte	B
Ageinste the brest of Sieur de Bonoboe	N
He grond and sunken on the place of fyghte	B
O Chryste to fele his wounde his harte was woe	G
Ten thousand thoughtes push'd in upon his mynde	B
Not for hymself but those he left behynde	B
	-
He dy'd and leffed wyfe and chyldren tweine	M
Whom he wyth cheryshment did dearlie love	J
In England's court in goode Kynge Edwarde's regne	M
He wonne the tylte and ware her crymson glove	J
And thence unto the place where he was borne	M
Together with hys welthe better wyfe	J
To Normandie he dyd perdie returne	M
In peace and quietnesse to lead his lyfe	J
And now with sovrayn Wyllyam he came	I
To die in battel or get welthe and fame	I
	-
Then swefte as lyghtnynge Egelredus set	B
Agaynst du Barlie of the mounten head	B
In his dere hartes bloude his longe launce was wett	B
And from his courser down he tumbled dede	B
So have I sene a mountayne oak that longe	L
Has caste his shadowe to the mountayne syde	B
Brave all the wyndes tho' ever they so stronge	L
And view the briers belowe with self taught pride	B
But whan throwne downe by mightie thunder stroke	K
He'de rather bee a bryer than an oke	K
	-
Then Egelred dyd in a declynie	M
Hys launce uprere with all hys myghte ameine	M
And strok Fitzport upon the dexter eye	B
And at his pole the spear came out agayne	M
Butt as he drewe it forthe an arrowe fledde	B
Wyth mickle myght lent from de Tracy's bowe	G
And at hys syde the arrowe entered	B
And oute the crymson streme of bloude gan flowe	G
In purple strekes it dyd his armer staine	M
And smok'd in puddles on the dustie plaine	M
	-
But Egelred before he sunken downe	M
With all his myghte amein his spear besped	B
It hytte Bertrammil Manne upon the crowne	M
And bothe together quicklie sunken dede	B
So have I seen a roche o'er others hang	K
Who stronglie plac'd laughde at his slippry state	B
But when he falls with heaven peercynge bange	L
That he the sleeve unravels all theire fate	B
And broken onn the beech thys lesson	M

Thomas Chatterton

Battle Of Hastings - I Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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