Goddwyn; A Tragedie Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDBED FCACAGGAAAAHH AIAHAAAHFAFAAABABHAC ACEAHHHHHFAEAEAHAABA BHAHAHAAAAAJAJHHEAEA AAAAAAAAKAAHBAHBHBHH ABABAKKHAAABABKCKCBB HEAHHHHHHCHCHHAAHHAH HBHBAAAAAAAAAAAABHAK AKAHAHAHLHLKKHHACACK FAKAKK IIHHBABAEALALHAAEAC

PERSONS REPRESENTEDA
HAROLDE bie T Rowleie the AucthoureB
GODDWYN bie Johan de IscammeC
ELWARDE bie Syrr Thybbot GorgesD
ALSTAN bie Syrr Alan de VereB
KYNGE EDWARD bie Mastre Wilyam CanyngeE
Odhers bie Knyghtes MynnstrellsD
-
PROLOGUEF
WHYLOMME bie pensmenne moke ungentle nameC
Have upon Goddwynne Erle of Kente bin laydeA
Dherebie benymmynge hymme of faie and fameC
Unliart divinistres haveth saideA
Thatte he was knowen toe noe hallie wurcheG
Botte thys was all hys faulte he gyfted ne the churcheG
The aucthoure of the piece whiche we enacteA
Albeytte a clergyon trouthe wyll wrytteA
Inne drawynge of hys menne no wytte ys lackteA
Entyn a kynge mote bee full pleased to nyghteA
Attende and marcke the partes nowe to be doneH
Wee better for toe doe do champyon anie onneH
-
GODDWYN A TRAGEDIEA
ACT II
GODDWYN AND HAROLDEA
GODDWYNH
HAROLDEA
HAROLDEA
Mie loverdeA
GODDWYNH
O I weepe to thynckeF
What foemen riseth to isrete the londeA
Theie batten onne her fleshe her hartes bloude drynckeF
And all ys graunted from the roieal hondeA
HAROLDEA
Lette notte this agreme blyn ne aledge stondeA
Bee I toe wepe I wepe in teres of goreB
Am I betrassed syke shulde mie burlie brondeA
Depeyncte the wronges on hym from whom I boreB
GODDWYNH
I ken thie spryte ful welle gentle thou artA
Stringe ugsomme rou as smethynge armyes seemeC
Yett efte I feare thie chefes toe grete a parteA
And that thie rede bee efte borne downe bie bremeC
What tydynges from the kyngeE
HAROLDEA
His Normans knowH
I make noe compheeres of the shemrynge trayneH
GODDWYNH
Ah Harolde tis a syghte of myckle woeH
To kenne these Normannes everich rennome gayneH
What tydynge withe the foulkeF
HAROLDEA
Stylle mormorynge atte yer shap stylle toe the kyngeE
Theie rolle theire trobbles lyche a sorgie seaA
Hane Englonde thenne a tongue butte notte a styngeE
Dothe alle compleyne yette none wylle ryghted beeA
GODDWYNH
Awayte the tyme whanne Godde wylle sende us aydeA
HAROLDEA
No we muste streve to ayde oureselves wyth powreB
Whan Godde wylle sende us ayde tis fetelie praydeA
Moste we those calke awaie the lyve longe howreB
Thos croche oure armes and ne toe lyve dareygneH
Unburled undelievre unespryteA
Far fro mie harte be fled thyk thoughte of peyneH
Ile free mie countrie or Ille die yn fyghteA
GODDWYNH
Botte lette us wayte untylle somme season fytteA
Mie Kentyshmen thie Summertons shall ryseA
Adented prowess to the gite of witteA
Agayne the argent horse shall daunce yn skiesA
Oh Harolde heere forstraughteynge wanhope liesA
Englonde oh Englonde tys for thee I bletheJ
Whylste Edwarde to thie sonnes wylle nete alyseA
Shulde anie of thie sonnes sele aughte of etheJ
Upponne the trone I sette thee helde thie crowneH
Botte oh twere hommage nowe to pyghte thee downeH
Thou arte all preeste notheynge of the kyngeE
Thou arte all Norman nothynge of mie bloddeA
Know ytte beseies thee notte a masse to syngeE
Servynge thie leegefolcke thou arte servynge GoddeA
HAROLDEA
Thenne Ille doe heaven a servyce To the skyesA
The dailie contekes of the londe ascendeA
The wyddowe fahdrelesse bondemennes criesA
Acheke the mokie aire heaven astendeA
On us the rulers doe the folcke dependeA
Hancelled from erthe these Normanne hyndes shalle beeA
Lyche a battently low mie swerde shalle brendeA
Lyche fallynge softe rayne droppes I wyll hem sleaK
Wee wayte too longe our purpose wylle defayteA
Aboune the hyghe empryze rouze the champyones strayteA
GODDWYNH
Thie susterB
HAROLDEA
Aye I knowe she is his queeneH
Albeytte dyd shee speeke her foemen fayreB
I wulde dequace her comlie semlykeeneH
And foulde mie bloddie anlace yn her hayreB
GODDWYNH
Thye fhuir blynH
HAROLDEA
No bydde the leathal mereB
Upriste withe hiltrene wyndes cause unkendA
Beheste it to be lete so twylle appeareB
Eere Harolde hyde hys name his contries frendeA
The gule steyncte brygandyne the adventayleK
The feerie anlace brede shal make mie gare prevayleK
GODDWYNH
Harolde what wuldest doeA
HAROLDEA
Bethyncke thee whattA
Here liethe Englonde all her drites unfreeB
Here liethe Normans coupynge her bie lotteA
Caltysnyng everich native plante to greB
Whatte woulde I doe I brondeous wulde hem sleeK
Tare owte theyre sable harte bie ryghtefulle bremeC
Theyre deathe a meanes untoe mie lyfe shulde beeK
Mie spryte shulde revelle yn theyr harte blodde stremeC
Eftsoones I wylle bewryne mie ragefulle ireB
And Goddis anlace wielde yn furie dyreB
GODDWYNH
Whatte wouldest thou wythe the kyngeE
HAROLDEA
Take offe hys crowneH
The ruler of somme mynster hym ordeyneH
Sette uppe som dygner than I han pyghte downeH
And peace in Englonde shulde be brayd agayneH
GODDWYNH
No lette the super hallie seyncte kynge reygneH
Ande somme moe reded rule the untentyff reaulmeC
Kynge Edwarde yn hys cortesie wylle deygneH
So to yielde the spoiles and alleyne were the heaulmeC
Botte from mee harte bee everych thoughte of gayneH
Nor anie of mie kin I wysche him to ordeyneH
HAROLDEA
Tell me the meenes and I wylle boute ytte strayteA
Bete mee to slea mieself ytte shalle be doneH
GODDWYNH
To thee I wylle swythynne the menes unplayteA
Bie whyche thou Harolde shalte be proved mie sonneH
I have longe seen whatte peynes were undergonH
Whatte agrames braunce out from the general treeB
The tyme ys commynge whan the mollock gronH
Drented of alle yts swolynge owndes shalle beeB
Mie remedie is goode our menne shall ryseA
Eftsoons the Normans and owre agrame fliesA
HAROLDEA
I will to the West and gemote alle the knyghtesA
Wythe bylles that pancte for blodde and sheeldes as bredeA
As the ybroched moon when blaunch she dyghtesA
The wodeland grounde or water mantled medeA
Wythe hondes whose myghte canne make the doughtiest bledeA
Who efte have knelte upon forslagen foesA
Whoe wythe yer fote orrests a castle stedeA
Who dare on kynges for to bewrecke yiere woesA
Nowe wylle the menne of Englonde haile the daieA
Whan Goddwyn leades them to the ryghtfulle fraieB
GODDWYNH
Botte firste we'll call the loverdes of the WestA
The erles of Mercia Conventrie and allK
The moe wee gayne the gare wylle prosper besteA
Wythe syke a nomber wee can never fallK
HAROLDEA
True so wee sal doe best to lyncke the chayneH
And alle attenes the spreddynge kyngedomme byndeA
No crouched champyone wythe an harte moe feygneH
Dyd yssue owte the hallie swerde to fyndeA
Than I nowe strev to ryd mie londe of peyneH
Goddwyn what thanckes owre laboures wylle enhepeL
I'lle ryse mie friendes unto the bloddie pleyneH
I'lle wake the honnoure thatte ys now aslepeL
When wylle the chiefes mete atte thie feastive halleK
That I wythe voice alowde maie there upon 'em calleK
GODDWYNH
Next eve mie sonneH
HAROLDEA
Nowe Englonde ys the tymeC
Whan thee or thie felle foemens cause moste dieA
Thie geason wronges bee reyne ynto theyre prymeC
Nowe wylle thie sonnes unto thie succoure flieK
Alyche a storm egederinge yn the skieF
Tys fulle ande brasteth on the chaper groundeA
Sycke shalle mie fhuirye on the Normans flieK
And alle theyre mitteeA
Nowe nowe wylle Harolde or oppressionne falleK
Ne moe the Englyshmenne yn vayne for hele shal calleK
-
ACT III
SCENE II
KYNGE EDWARDE AND HIS QUEENEH
QUEENEH
BOTTE loverde whie so manie Normannes hereB
Mee thynckethe wee bee notte yn Englyshe londeA
These browded straungers alwaie doe appereB
Theie parte yor trone and sete at your ryghte hondeA
KYNGEE
Go to goe to you doe ne understondeA
Theie yeave mee lyffe and dyd mie bowkie kepeL
Theie dyd mee feeste and did embowre me grondeA
To trete hem ylle wulde lette mie kyndnesse slepeL
QUEENEH
Mancas you have yn store and to them parteA
Youre leege folcke make moke dole you have theyr worthe asterteA
KYNGEE
I heste no rede of you I ken mie friendesA
Hallie dheie are fulle ready meeC

Thomas Chatterton



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
<< Chatterton's Will Poem Next Poem


Write your comment about Goddwyn; A Tragedie poem by Thomas Chatterton


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 6 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets