play; I set forth a wonderful matter concerning the malice of the
world; I will tell nothing that is noxious, but will relate a
historical incident; I write a new satire, yet let it not on that
account sow anger.--Anger moves the minds of the soldiers of the
present day, since the weak detract from the praise of the deeds
of the strong; yet let not teeth of the detractors scare thee:
if you live well, you need not care for what evil men say.--[If
anger last, it turns into malice; malice if not restrained
drives people into rage; rage shortens our days, by bringing
us into anguish; anger breeds hatred, whilst concord nourishes
love.--The love which was in the world is gone, and poison has
taken its place; out of hatred has sprung no small plague; the
homicide has raised his standard; nothing is sharper than envy,
and nothing more wicked.--There is nothing more wicked than an
envious man, as every one knows; for his unhappiness increases
with the prosperity of his neighbour; he pines away by the very
cause which brings profit to the just man. Unless the vessel be
clean, whatever you pour in becomes soured.--In order, therefore,
that the minds of the wicked may be soured, I will relate what
I have learnt of the deeds of the English. Henceforward I will
not fear the words of the envious. If you live well, you need
not care for what evil men say.]--It is the property of wicked
men always to say evil, to detract from the able, to respect
the vile. I am unwilling that you should be disturbed by the
fear of such men; it is praiseworthy in the prudent to be abused
by the wicked.--For the wicked are displeased by rectitude of
life: the law is injured in them, and they esteem strife as a
joke. The repose of ribalds is inquietude; to attempt to convert
fools is, as it were, to put cold iron on the anvil.--Every one
strikes cold iron, who counsels the obstinate man to desert his
sins; for the wise man says very sensibly, “he sows words in the
wind who preaches to a madman.”--Every where are preached the
fraudulent actions of the faithless men, who molest England by
force of arms; the French, Scotch, and Welsh, whose power may the
Omnipotent who holds the world repress!--May the Governor of the
universe whom we address as God, who protected the Hebrew people
through many difficulties, give the English victory over their
enemies! The butler can furnish liquor to a thousand men.--As the
butler at will gives drink to many, so the Lord gives strength
at his will to those whom he has chosen; Edward the noble
King knows this; and he labours to devote himself entirely to
Christ.--Edward our King is entirely devoted to Christ; he is
quick to pardon, and slow to vengeance; he puts to flight his
adversaries like a leopard; the reputation of the fool stinks,
the just man smells sweet as spikenard.--Like spikenard smells
the fame of the King of the English, who represses the attempts
of his enemies; him let all the enemies of the English fear:
often the mastiff snatches the sheep from the wolves’ jaws.--In
the wolves’ jaws the English have been of late; for, when all the
turbulent chiefs of Wales were reduced, the Scotch raise their
spears armed in their rags: a few years exhibit the wonderful
fortune of John.--John being now King of Scotland, clement and
chaste, governing the kingdom as though he had been bred a king,
him at length the pride of his nation deposed. The first-created
was an exile, driven from his pious seat.--He, however, was
deservedly exiled, for, as I have read, he promised homage to the
English King; afterwards he declined the verb _frango_ (I break);
by breaking all which I had promised, (said he,) I performed
my agreement.--The aforesaid prince broke his promise, when he
did not restrain the attempts of the wicked; a voice was heard
in Rama, weeping and lamentation; a remiss master makes lazy
servants.--By slack servants the King is dishonoured; holiness
is overthrown, the law is made of no avail; there is frequent
sedition, the peace is endangered. Cursed be the house, where
every dependent is master!--When the dependant commands, and the
prince is a servant, then the state is in danger, and quietness
departs. O how many people impiety, when unpunished, injures!
The impious man unpunished always thinks that he conquers.--The
twelve rulers of Scotland thought that they could resist the
great valour of the English; therefore many of them fell by
the sword. Said the toad to the harrow, “cursed be so many
rulers!”--Many rulers under such a diminutive leader conspire
against the English, whilst the king was at peace; at length
they meet with standards raised. Great rivers take their rise
from a small fountain.--From small fountains great rivers arise;
so it is with the wanton attempts of the people of Scotland.
Many thereupon are led captives: whenever the kings run wild, it
is the subjects who suffer.--The subject populace perished in
battle at Dunbar, where the Scotch were slain by the flail of
the English. You might see the carcases, as in the shambles of
a seller of refuse meat, cut off from the kilted rabble.--The
kilted people, numerous and savage, who are accustomed to detract
from the Englishmen, fell at Dunbar, and now stink like a dog:
thus do fools, who are tormented by vain glory.--Vain glory made
the deceitful people deny the true lord of Scotland; but after
the battle they seek peace. Sometimes fortune makes a wise man of
a fool.--He is wise in battle who yields to his superior; but the
wild people of Scotland soon break their faith. No one can take
away what nature gave: the disease which is rooted in the bone,
can seldom be expelled from the flesh.--The noble king departed,
sparing so great a mass of populace; he traversed Scotland with a
crowd of attendants. The English fortify castles, by the king’s
command; for that hurts less which we have provided against.--The
wars are governed by the king’s providence; the Scottish nobles
are subdued to the English; judges are appointed, the laws
are revised; for the laws themselves require to be regulated
aright.--The king appointed a worthy man to the government of
the kingdom, John de Warenne, whom he had often proved. He to
the utmost of his power observed the laws; destroying the proud,
he placed the humble in peace.--The king, after these things had
been performed, returned in peace, preparing to aid gratuitously
the Count of Flanders; he prepares a great fleet as quickly as
he can; banish delay, to those who are prepared it is always
injurious to procrastinate.--Nor was there any delay, for the
cunning Scots meet together; with their hands on the gospels,
they have said that from their station in the south they will not
pass the Trent: little is owing to pleasure, more to safety.--The
Scottish nobles all swear with alacrity, and their boundaries
are limited to each by the king; see that they be not perjured,
and fall into the net; for the poets sing wonderful things that
are not to be believed.--Then the king, wonderfully credulous
in them, passed the sea, and powerfully warred against the
French in Flanders; unmindful of old age, he was not terrified
by numbers. He flourishes by counsel, to whom nature has denied
strength.--The Lord has not denied strength and vigour to the
king, whom he ordained to be the flower of the world; whose
acts excite everybody’s wonder; for his mind is capable of
undergoing every labour.--A new labour arises; Satan is raised
up; the fidelity of the Scots disappears entirely; the valour
of the English is undeservedly set at nought. What everybody
says, does not rest upon our opinion.--The abandoned scoffers
hold mutual conversations; “Lo! triumphant garlands are given to
the English. O William de Wallace! send us to them: arrows can
penetrate the hard mail.--Let us call together all our archers;
let us hasten together against the Guardian of Scotland. For it
is right that we should fight for our country: we often see the
conqueror overcome by the vanquished.”--Accordingly the Guardian
of Scotland is very hard pressed; and the people assemble at
Stirling, proud in spirit; treachery destroys the English, and
they are on the brink of ruin: the end does not correspond with
the beginning.--The Earl, who was leader of the English, first
passed the bridge, penetrating boldly into the Scotish columns;
but he was driven back by treachery, and not by the force of
arms: fraud is often the cause of many evils.--Fraud caused the
English to blush, whilst they saw on all sides the blood of their
own people flowing; Levenax and Richard Lundi are convicted of
fraud. How short is the joy, and how lasting the sorrow, of the
world!--O perfidiousness of the world! who is not astonished by
thee? Treachery lies hid, concealed among our household; the
cunning man is always opposed to the peaceful; the shepherd
leads his sheep with a staff, the wolf threatens them with his
mouth.--What does the barbarous brutal and foolish race threaten?
Will this perfidy remain unavenged? The King of England will
come with open force, inquiring much about Priam and much about
Hector.--The proud people raise a heap of evils for themselves,
provoking the English to the bitter contest; words will cease,
when the blows come; though you think you have finished entirely,
there is a snake concealed in the grass.--[“The sun,” they say,
“will not be concealed from us with his light; the time is come
when the English will all fall by our hands; no one....” The
Divine power plays with the prospects of men.--O power of God!
I petition thee in favour of thy people! come with a propitious
countenance to the aid of the English; judge the king’s cause,
and give him grace: thou who art without beginning, do not let
falseness triumph.]--After this the leader of the plot calls
together his party, knowing that our king would be gone over the
sea; he made an order to ravage Northumberland: “we oft see,”
says he, “weeping after joy.”--Northumberland, much desolated,
may weep! She is made as a widow robbed of her children. Vescy,
Morley, Somerville, Bertram are dead: Alas! of how many, and
how great men in every part is she widowed!--In her, since she
is a widow, the troops of the Scots reduce the estates of many
to cinders. William Wallace is the leader of these savages; the
rejoicings of fools breed increase of griefs.--To increase the
wickedness which they had hitherto perpetrated, these wicked
men deliver Alnwick to the flames; they run about on every side
like madmen. Few are chosen, but many are called.--Many ask
each other how it happened, that the Newminster was not touched
by the fire. The monks promise gifts, but they do not fulfil
their promise: as there was need, so was the thing carried into
effect.--On this account they led away captive the prior of the
monastery, whom they then found; having carried away the goods,
they left the houses empty. Few are munificent, but there are
many who seek after gifts.--Now the malignant people returns to
Scotland; and the honour of knighthood is given to William; from
a robber he becomes a knight, just as a swan is made out of a
raven; an unworthy man takes the seat, when a worthy man is not
by.--At length a letter reaches the worthy prince, in which the
whole course of events is told. Let nobody be surprized if he was
enraged at it: the sea cannot be quiet when the storm rages.--In
his anger he began thus to address his knights: “Again you must
prepare to fight for your country. I would rather conquer once,
than be often tormented; wars are better than being troubled
with lasting strife.”--“Do not be troubled,” said they, “if the
Scottish thieves sharpen axes for their own heads; one Englishman
will slay very many Scots. It is not the part of a man who has
a beard to join mice to a little cart.”--Wallace, or Gilmaurus,
is scarcely better than a mouse, to whose victory the laurel
will never grow; for they want strength and treasure: a bull
who has lost his horns is the more eager for the war.--On St.
Magdalen’s day the wretches fall in battle; the king subdues
in the field near a hundred thousand; the meadows are covered
with their carcases. The wicked hate sin from the fear of
punishment.--Scared by the fear of punishment the tyrant turns
his back, whom the short jacket once pleased; faithless in the
day of battle he flies like a truant. One day often gives what
the whole year denies.--In one day many wretches were slain; and
the English pursue the Scots who had fled; they are transfixed
with spears, and robbed of their clothes. The white thorns are
cut down, while the black bilberries are gathered.--Wallace, thy
reputation as a soldier is lost; since thou didst not defend thy
people with the sword, it is just thou shouldst now be deprived
of thy dominion.
But, in my view, thou wilt always be the ass thou wert
formerly.--Thou wilt pass into a lasting proverb; thy kingdom
is divided, and cannot stand; thy people now drink of the cup
which thou hast prepared. He who turns others into derision,
will not escape being derided.--O laughable thing, that has
been manifested in our time! Fortune will play in various ways.
The prince has been turned into an outcast, Judah into Jebus.
The Divine power plays with the prospects of men.--Things being
brought to this pass, the king searches the country, and hunts
the thieves out of their hiding places; every one who is found
is put to the sword: justice requires this, that the punishment
come after the fault.--[Next the king returns, that he may
marry Queen Margaret, the flower of the French; through her the
kingdoms receive a more complete peace. Anger begets slaughter,
concord nourishes love.--When love buds between great princes,
it drives away bitter sobs from their subjects; and now a firm
peace is negotiated by frequent messengers: for by these things
grace makes people friends.--It is just that the Scots should
have a small portion of grace, because the impious people have
neither peace nor quiet of mind. Comyn, Carrick, Umfraville raise
their standards: there is nothing more sharp than envy, nor more
wicked.--The nation, voluntarily wicked, will not be obedient;
it forces the illustrious king with his army to return; now they
fear who neglect to come to peace, lest they perish languishingly
by the sword of dire death.--Let them perish utterly both fathers
and sons; unless they quickly give their feet to flight, flying
they desert their towns and houses: the child Ganymedes drives
about the hares on mount Ida.--In the midst of these transactions
the King of France, sending without delay, asks an honourable
truce of the King of England. The king accedes to his request,
soon afterwards turning his reins: the grateful hour will arrive
when it is least expected.--Who knows not that that would be
the best hour for the Scots, in which the sword ceases from the
weeping commonalty, and the king unites and honours the nobles.
While it is warm and fair weather, the ant labours.--After
all these warlike labours, the English like angels are always
conquerors, they are more excellent than the Scotch and Welsh;
you will learn people’s manners by contemplating their lives.--As
though a swine should resist the valour of the lion, so the
filthy Scots attack England; and the king for that reason reduces
them to slavery: he will ever be a slave, who cannot be content
with the little which Providence has given him.]
* * * * *
The following verses seem to have been written immediately after
John Baliol had retired to Normandy, in 1290. In the manuscript,
they are accompanied by a picture representing a ship, full of
people, passing the sea.
ON THE DEPOSITION OF BALIOL.
[From MS. Cotton. Julius, A. V. fol. 2, r^o. of beginning of 14th
cent.]
Ecce dies veniunt Scoti sine principe fiunt;
Regnum Balliolus perdit, transit mare solus.
Defendi bello Scotus mucrone novello
Sperans Gallorum, vires expectat eorum.
De gwerra tuti Gallorum viribus uti
Congaudent Scoti; currunt ad prælia moti.
Gallia de parvo Scoto profecit in arvo.
Cur in conflictu Scotus ter corruit ictu?
Conflictu quarto Scoti ponuntur in arto:
Quales sunt et erunt, carmina plura ferunt,
Carmina qui didicit Trojam per prælia vicit,
Ovidius docuit quæ sibi causa fuit.
Percussis bellis, sterilis fit Troja puellis;
Finitis motis, sic fiet Scotia Scotis.
Vastantur gwerra Trojani, de prope terra
Castrorum plena, cum finibus est aliena.
Urbibus et villis proles dominatur Achillis;
Pyrrhus vastat eas, Priamum ploravit Æneas.
Merlinus scribit quod turba superba peribit;
Latrans exibit canis, et bos profugus ibit.
Tunc nemus Eutherium pennata fronde carebit;
Et genus Albaneum sua regna perire videbit.
Scote miser, plora, tibi flendi jam venit hora;
Nam regnum patruum desinet esse tuum.
Principe privaris, campo sic subpeditaris,
Quod meritis miseris semper asellus eris.
Vox de profundis Cambini te vocat undis,
Torquendum clade, quam non novit genus Adæ.
Illuc tende vias, et dæmonis assecla fias!
Amplius Andreas ducere nescit eas.
TRANSLATION.--Lo! the time is come when the Scots are without a
prince; Baliol loses the kingdom, and passes the sea alone. The
Scot, hoping to be defended in battle by the new spear of the
French, is waiting for their power. The Scots rejoice together
in the belief that they will have the better in the war by the
aid of the French; they rebel, and haste to fight. France will
profit little the Scot in the field. Why has the Scot been beaten
in three battles? By the fourth battle the Scots are reduced to
extremities: such as they are and will ever be, very many songs
tell. He who learnt songs conquered Troy in battle; Ovid has
told us what was the cause of it. After the war, Troy was barren
of maidens; when the rebellion is over, so will Scotland be of
Scots. Troy is ravaged by war, the land near about being full of
camps, it is with its boundaries become the property of another.
The son of Achilles rules over the cities and towns; Pyrrhus
lays them waste, Æneas has wept for Priam. Merlin writes that
the proud crowd shall perish; the barking dog shall depart, and
the ox shall go into exile. Then shall the Eutherian grove be
stripped of its feathered branches; and the Albanian race will
see their kingdom perish. Wretched Scot, lament, thy hour of
weeping is now come; for the kingdom of thy forefathers ceases
to be thine. Thou art deprived of a prince, and art so trodden
down in the field, that by thy ill merits thou wilt always be an
ass. A voice from the bottom of the Cambine waters calls thee,
to be punished with such slaughter as the race of Adam has not
yet seen. Hasten thither, and become the companion of the devil!
Andrew will no longer be their leader.
* * * * *
The general hatred to the Scots did not hinder the people from
feeling grieved by the heavy taxes which were raised to support the
war, and more particularly the expeditions into Flanders, (which
latter were ill managed, and produced no results,) or from showing
their dissatisfaction. The King’s measures of ambition were often
thwarted by the stern opposition of the barons and the commons.
The following song was directed more particularly against the
unconstitutional seizure of wool, and generally against all the
taxes raised for the Flemish war.
SONG AGAINST THE KING’S TAXES.
[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 137, v^o, written in reign of Edw. II.]
Dieu, roy de magesté, ob personas trinas,
Nostre roy e sa meyné ne perire sinas;
Grantz mals ly fist aver gravesque ruinas,
Celi qe ly fist passer partes transmarinas.
Rex ut salvetur, falsis maledictio detur!
Roy ne doit à feore de gere extra regnum ire,
For si la commune de sa terre velint consentire:
Par tresoun voit honme sovent quam plures perire;
A quy en fier seurement nemo potest scire.
Non eat ex regno rex sine consilio.
Ore court en Engletere de anno in annum
Le quinzyme dener, pur fere sic commune dampnum.
E fet avaler que soleyent sedere super scamnum;
E vendre fet commune gent vaccas, vas, et pannum.
Non placet ad summum quindenum sic dare nummum.
Une chose est countre foy, unde gens gravatur,
Que la meyté ne vient al roy, in regno quod levatur.
Pur ce qu’il n’ad tot l’enter, prout sibi datur,
Le pueple doit le plus doner, et sic sincopatur.
Nam quæ taxantur, regi non omnia dantur.
Unquore plus greve à simple gent collectio lanarum,
Que vendre fet communement divitias earum.
Ne puet estre que tiel consail constat Deo carum,
Issi destrure le poverail pondus per amarum,
Non est lex sana, quod regi sit mea lana.
Uncore est plus outre peis, ut testantur gentes,
En le sac deus pers ou treis per vim retinentes.
A quy remeindra cele leyne? quidam respondentes,
Que jà n’avera roy ne reygne, sed tantum colligentes.
Pondus lanarum tam falsum constat amarum.
Depus que le roy vodera tam multum cepisse,
Entre les riches si purra satis invenisse;
E plus, à ce que m’est avys, et melius fecisse
Des grantz partie aver pris, et parvis pepercisse.
Qui capit argentum sine causa peccat egentum.
Honme ne doit à roy retter talem pravitatem,
Mès al maveis consiler per ferocitatem.
Le roy est jeovene bachiler, nec habet ætatem,
Nule malice compasser, sed omnem probitatem.
Consilium tale dampnum confert generale.
Rien greve les grantz graunter regi sic tributum;
Les simples deyvent tot doner, contra Dei nutum.
Cest consail n’est mye bien, sed vitiis pollutum;
Ceux que grauntent ne paient ren, est male constitutum.
Nam concedentes nil dant regi, sed egentes.
Coment fra honme bon espleit ex pauperum sudore,
Que les riches esparnyer doit, dono vel favore?
Des grantz um le dust lever, Dei pro timore;
Le pueple plus esparnyer, qui vivit in dolore.
Qui satis es dives, non sic ex paupere vives.
Je voy en siècle qu’ore court gentes superbire,
D’autre biens tenir grant court, quod cito vult transire.
Quant vendra le haut juggement, magna dies iræ,
S’il ne facent amendement, tunc debent perire.
Rex dicit reprobis, “ite:”--“venite,” probis.
Dieu, que fustes coronée cum acuta spina,
De vostre pueple eiez pitée gratia divina!
Que le siècle soit aleggée de tali ruina!
A dire grosse veritée est quasi rapina.
Res inopum capta, nisi gratis, est quasi rapta.
Tel tribut à nul feor diu nequit durare;
Devoyde qy puet doner, vel manibus tractare?
Gentz sunt à tiel meschief quod nequeunt plus dare;
Je me doute, s’ils ussent chief, quod vellent levare.
Sæpe facit stultas gentes vacuata facultas.
Yl y a tant escarceté monetæ inter gentes,
Qe honme puet en marché, quam parci sunt ementes,
Tot eyt honme drap ou blée, porcos vel bidentes,
Rien lever en verité, tam multi sunt egentes.
Gens non est læta, cum sit tam parca moneta.
Si le roy freyt moun consail, tunc vellem laudare,
D’argent prendre le vessel, monetamque parare;
Mieu valdreit de fust ma[n]ger, pro victu nummos dare,
Qe d’argent le cors servyr, et lignum pacare.
Est vitii signum pro victu solvere lignum.
Lur commissiouns sunt trochiers qui sunt ultra mare;
Ore lur terres n’ount povers eosdem sustentare.
Je ne say coment purrount animas salvare,
Que d’autrui vivre voderount, et propria servare.
Non dubitant pœnas cupientes res alienas.
Dieu pur soun seintime noun, confundat errores,
E ceux que pensent fere tresoun, et pacis turbatores!
E vengaunce en facez ad tales vexatores!
E confermez e grantez inter reges amores!
Perdat solamen qui pacem destruit! AMEN.
TRANSLATION.--O God, king of majesty, for the sake of the
Trinity,--do not permit our king and his household to
perish;--great hurt and great ruin he caused him to have,--who
made him pass over the sea.--In order that the king may prosper,
may his false advisers be accursed.
A king ought not to go out of his kingdom to make war,--unless
the commons of his land will consent:--by treason we often
see very many perish;--no one can tell in whom to trust with
certainty.--Let not the king go out of his kingdom without
counsel.
Now goes in England from year to year--the fifteenth penny, to
do thus a common harm.--And it makes them go down, who used to
sit upon a bench;--and it obliges the common people to sell both
cows, vessels, and clothes.--It does not please thus to pay the
fifteenth to the last penny.
One thing is against faith, whereby the people is
aggrieved,--that the half of what is raised in the kingdom does
not come to the king.--Since he has not the whole, as it is given
to him,--the people is obliged to give the more, and thus they
are cut short.--For the taxes which are raised are not all given
to the king.
The collecting of the wool grieves the common people still
more,--which drives them commonly to sell their property.--Such
counsel cannot be acceptable to God,--thus to destroy the poor
people by a bitter burthen.--It is not sound law, which gives my
wool to the king.
What is still more contrary to peace, as people witness,--they
retain two or three parts in the sack.--To whom shall remain
this wool? Some answer,--that neither king nor queen shall have
it, but only the collectors.--Such a false weight of wool is
manifestly a bitter thing.