Battle Of Hastings - Ii Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AAAAABABBBCBBBBDBDBB BEBEEBEBAAABABBFBFAA GEGFBHBHIIGIGIIBIBIB BBBBBEBEBBBBBBBJBJBB EBEEIBEBAABHBHHBHBBB IBIBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBIH BHBHHBHBAAKBLBBBBBBB BEBEEJEJEEBEBBIEBEBB BBBBBBBM| OH Truth immortal daughter of the skies | A |
| Too lyttle known to wryters of these daies | A |
| Teach me fayre Saincte hy passynge worthe to pryze | A |
| To blame a friend and give a foeman prayse | A |
| The fickle moone bedeckt wythe sylver rays | A |
| Leadynge a traine of starres of feeble lyghte | B |
| With look adigne the worlde belowe surveies | A |
| The world that wotted not it coud be nyghte | B |
| Wyth armour dyd with human gore ydeyd | B |
| The sees Kynge Harolde stande fayre Englands curse and pryde | B |
| With ale and vernage drunk his souldiers lay | C |
| Here was an hynde anie an erlie spredde | B |
| Sad keepynge of their leaders natal daie | B |
| This even in drinke toomorrow with the dead | B |
| Thro' everie troope disorder reer'd her hedde | B |
| Dancynge and heideignes was the onlie theme | D |
| Sad dome was theires who lefte this easie bedde | B |
| And wak'd in torments from so sweet a dream | D |
| Duke Williams menne of comeing dethe afraide | B |
| All nyghte to the great Godde for succour askd and praied | B |
| Thus Harolde to his wites that stoode arounde | B |
| Goe Gyrthe and Eilward take bills halfe a score | E |
| And search how farre our foeman's campe doth bound | B |
| Yourself have rede I nede to saie ne more | E |
| My brother best belov'd of anie ore | E |
| My Leofwinus goe to everich wite | B |
| Tell them to raunge the battel to the grore | E |
| And waiten tyll I sende the hest for fyghte | B |
| He saide the loieaul broders lefte the place | A |
| Success and cheerfulness depicted on ech face | A |
| Slowelie brave Gyrthe and Eilwarde dyd advaunce | A |
| And markd wyth care the armies dystant syde | B |
| When the dyre clatterynge of the shielde and launce | A |
| Made them to be by Hugh Fitzhugh espyd | B |
| He lyfted up his voice and lowdlie cryd | B |
| Like wolfs in wintere did the Normanne yell | F |
| Girthe drew hys swerde and cutte hys burled hyde | B |
| The proto slene manne of the fielde he felle | F |
| Out streemd the bloude and ran in smokynge curles | A |
| Reflected bie the moone seemd rubies mixt wyth pearles | A |
| A troope of Normannes from the mass songe came | G |
| Rousd from their praiers by the flotting crie | E |
| Thoughe Girthe and Ailwardus perceevd the same | G |
| Not once theie stoode abashd or thoghte to flie | F |
| He seizd a bill to conquer or to die | B |
| Fierce as a clevis from a rocke ytorne | H |
| That makes a vallie wheresoe're it lie | B |
| Fierce as a ryver burstynge from the borne | H |
| So fiercelie Gyrthe hitte Fitz du Gore a blowe | I |
| And on the verdaunt playne he layde the champyone lowe | I |
| Tancarville thus alle peace in Williams name | G |
| Let none edraw his arcublaster bowe | I |
| Girthe cas'd his weppone as he hearde the same | G |
| And vengynge Normannes staid the flyinge floe | I |
| The sire wente onne ye menne what mean ye so | I |
| Thus unprovokd to courte a bloudie fyghte | B |
| Quod Gyrthe oure meanynge we ne care to showe | I |
| Nor dread thy duke wyth all his men of myghte | B |
| Here single onlie these to all thie crewe | I |
| Shall shewe what Englysh handes and heartes can doe | B |
| Seek not for bloude Tancarville calme replyd | B |
| Nor joie in dethe lyke madmen most distraught | B |
| In peace and mercy is a Chrystians pryde | B |
| He that dothe contestes pryze is in a faulte | B |
| And now the news was to Duke William brought | B |
| That men of Haroldes armie taken were | E |
| For theyre good cheere all caties were enthoughte | B |
| And Gyrthe and Eilwardus enjoi'd goode cheere | E |
| Quod Willyam thus shall Willyam be founde | B |
| A friend to everie manne that treades on English ground | B |
| Erle Leofwinus throwghe the campe ypass'd | B |
| And sawe bothe men and erlies on the grounde | B |
| They slepte as thoughe they woulde have slepte theyr last | B |
| And hadd alreadie felte theyr fatale wounde | B |
| He started back and was wyth shame astownd | B |
| Loked wanne wyth anger and he shooke wyth rage | J |
| When throughe the hollow tentes these wordes dyd sound | B |
| Rowse from your sleepe detratours of the age | J |
| Was it for thys the stoute Norwegian bledde | B |
| Awake ye huscarles now or waken wyth the dead | B |
| As when the shepster in the shadie bowre | E |
| In jintle slumbers chase the heat of daie | B |
| Hears doublyng echoe wind the wolfins rore | E |
| That neare hys flocke is watchynge for a praie | E |
| He tremblynge for his sheep drives dreeme awaie | I |
| Gripes faste hys burled croke and sore adradde | B |
| Wyth fleeting strides he hastens to the fraie | E |
| And rage and prowess fyres the coistrell lad | B |
| With trustie talbots to the battel flies | A |
| And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear the skies | A |
| Such was the dire confusion of eche wite | B |
| That rose from sleep and walsome power of wine | H |
| Theie thoughte the foe by trechit yn the nyghte | B |
| Had broke theyr camp and gotten paste the line | H |
| Now here now there the burnysht sheeldes and byll spear shine | H |
| Throwote the campe a wild confusionne spredde | B |
| Eche bracd hys armlace siker ne desygne | H |
| The crested helmet nodded on the hedde | B |
| Some caught a slughorne and an onsett wounde | B |
| Kynge Harolde hearde the charge and wondred at the sounde | B |
| Thus Leofwine O women cas'd in stele | I |
| Was itte for thys Norwegia's stubborn sede | B |
| Throughe the black armoure dyd the anlace fele | I |
| And rybbes of solid brasse were made to bleede | B |
| Whylst yet the worlde was wondrynge at the deede | B |
| You souldiers that shoulde stand with byll in hand | B |
| Get full of wine devoid of any rede | B |
| Oh shame oh dyre dishonoure to the lande | B |
| He sayde and shame on everie visage spredde | B |
| Ne sawe the erlies face but addawd hung their head | B |
| Thus he rowze yee and forme the boddie tyghte | B |
| The Kentysh menne in fronte for strenght renownd | B |
| Next the Brystowans dare the bloudie fyghte | B |
| And last the numerous crewe shall presse the grounde | B |
| I and my king be wyth the Kenters founde | B |
| Bythric and Alfwold hedde the Brystowe bande | B |
| And Bertrams sonne the man of glorious wounde | B |
| Lead in the rear the menged of the lande | B |
| And let the Londoners and Suffers plie | I |
| Bie Herewardes memuine and the lighte skyrts anie | H |
| He saide and as a packe of hounds belent | B |
| When that the trackyng of the hare is gone | H |
| If one perchaunce shall hit upon the scent | B |
| With twa redubbled fhuir the alans run | H |
| So styrrd the valiante Saxons everych one | H |
| Soone linked man to man the champyones stoode | B |
| To 'tone for their bewrate so soone 'twas done | H |
| And lyfted bylls enseem'd an yron woode | B |
| Here glorious Alfwold towr'd above the wites | A |
| And seem'd to brave the fuir of twa ten thousand fights | A |
| Thus Leofwine today will Englandes dome | K |
| Be fyxt for aie for gode or evill state | B |
| This sunnes aunture be felt for years to come | L |
| Then bravelie fyghte and live till deathe of daie | B |
| Thinke of brave lfridus yclept the grete | B |
| From porte to porte the red haird Dane he chasd | B |
| The Danes with whomme not lyoncels coud mate | B |
| Who made of peopled reaulms a barren waste | B |
| Thinke how at once by you Norwegia bled | B |
| Whilste dethe and victorie for magystrie bested | B |
| Meanwhile did Gyrthe unto Kynge Harolde ride | B |
| And tolde howe he dyd with Duke Willyam fare | E |
| Brave Harolde lookd askaunte and thus replyd | B |
| And can thie say be bowght wyth drunken cheer | E |
| Gyrthe waxen hotte fhuir in his eyne did glare | E |
| And thus he saide oh brother friend and kynge | J |
| Have I deserved this fremed speche to heare | E |
| Bie Goddes hie hallidome ne thoughte the thynge | J |
| When Tostus sent me golde and sylver store | E |
| I scornd hys present vile and scorn'd hys treason more | E |
| Forgive me Gyrthe the brave Kynge Harolde cryd | B |
| Who can I trust if brothers are not true | E |
| I think of Tostus once my joie and pryde | B |
| Girthe saide with looke adigne my lord I doe | B |
| But what oure foemen are quod Girth I'll shewe | I |
| By Gods hie hallidome they preestes are | E |
| Do not quod Harold Girthe mystell them so | B |
| For theie are everich one brave men at warre | E |
| Quod Girthe why will ye then provoke theyr hate | B |
| Quod Harolde great the foe so is the glorie grete | B |
| And nowe Duke Willyam mareschalled his band | B |
| And stretchd his armie owte a goodlie rowe | B |
| First did a ranke of arcublastries stande | B |
| Next those on horsebacke drewe the ascendyng flo | B |
| Brave champyones eche well lerned in the bowe | B |
| Theyr asenglave acrosse theyr horses ty'd | B |
| Or with the loverds squier behinde dyd goe | B |
| Or waited squier lyke at the | M |
Thomas Chatterton
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Battle Of Hastings - Ii poem by Thomas Chatterton
Best Poems of Thomas Chatterton