desire;--the barons of England if they might gripe him,--they
would teach him to pipe in English,--through strength:--be he
never so stout,--yet he is sought out--wide and far.
Sir Edward of Caernarvon, (Jesus save him and have him in
regard!)--and Sir Aymer de Valence, a gentle knight and
liberal,--they have sworn their oath that, by the grace of
God!--they will deliver us from that false country,--if
they can.--Much hath Scotland lost,--what latterly and what
before,--and little praise won.
Now I shall take up where I left off before,--and tell you of
Fraser, as I promised you;--in the battle of Kirkencliff Fraser
was taken;--his countenance ceased from making any boast--near
Stirling:--knights and swains,--freemen and thanes,--many with
him.
They were so beset on every part,--some were slain and some
drowned themselves.--Sir John de Lyndsay would not remain,--he
waded into the water with his companions beside him--to
drown.--Why would not they beware?--There is none looked again
(?):--why would not they reflect?
It was before St. Bartholomew’s mass,--that Fraser was taken,
were it more or less:--To Sir Thomas de Multon, a gentle knight
and liberal,--and to Sir John Jose, he was delivered then--in
hand:--he was well fettered--both with iron and with steel,--to
bring out of Scotland.
Soon afterwards the tidings came to the king;--they sent him to
London with many an armed man;--he came in at Newgate, I tell
it you faithfully,--a garland of leaves placed on his head--of
green;--because he should be known--both by high and by low--as
a traitor, I ween.
Fettered were his legs under his horse’s belly;--both with iron
and with steel manacled were his hands;--a garland of periwinkle
set on his head;--much was the power that was taken from him--in
land:--As may God amend me!--he little supposed--so to be brought
in hand.
Sir Herbert of Morham, a fair knight and bold,--for the love
of Fraser his life was sold;--a wager he made, so it was
said,--to smite off his head if they took him in hold,--whatever
betide.--Sorry was he then,--when he might know him--to ride
through the town.
Then said his squire a word anon right,--“Sir, we are dead, there
is no creature to help us;”--(the squire was named Thomas de
Bois)--“now I wot our wager turns to our sorrow,--so bet.”--I
give you to know,--their heads were smitten off--before the gate
of the Tower.
It was on our Lady’s eve, for truth I understand,--the justices
sat for the knights of Scotland,--Sir Thomas de Multon, a
gentle knight and wise,--and Sir Ralph de Sandwich, who is much
esteemed in worth,--and Sir John Abel;--more I might tell by
reckoning,--both of great and of small,--ye know very well.
Then said the justice, who is gentle and free,--“Sir Simon
Fraser, the king’s traitor hast thou been,--on water and on land,
as many may see:--what sayest thou thereto? how wilt thou clear
thyself?--do say.”--He knew himself to be so foul,--he had not
whereon to trust--to say, nay.
There he was judged, as it was the law of the land,--because he
was traitor to his lord, first he was drawn,--upon a bullock’s
hide forth he was led:--for once in his life he was a moody
knight--in heart.--Wickedness and sin,--it is little gain--that
makes the body smart.
For all his great power, still he was taken;--falseness and
treachery all come to nothing;--when he was in Scotland, little
was his thought--of the hard judgment which was prepared for
him--in a short time.--He was four times perjured--to the king
there before,--and that brought him to the ground.
With fetters and with gyves I wot he was drawn,--from the
Tower of London, that many might know,--in a kirtle of
sack-cloth in strange wise,--and a garland on his head of the
new guise,--through Cheap;--many a man of England--to see
Simon--thither began to leap.
When he came to the gallows, first he was hanged,--beheaded all
alive, though it seemed to him long,--afterwards he was opened,
his bowels burnt,--the head to London Bridge was sent--for
disgrace:--As I may ever thrive!--at one time he thought--little
there to stand.
They ride through the city, as I may tell,--with game and with
solace, that was their play,--to London Bridge they took the
way,--many was the woman’s child that thereon lacks-a-day,--and
said, alas!--that he was born,--and so vilely undone,--so fair a
man as he was.
Now stands the head above the twi-bridge,--fast by Wallace,
to say the truth;--after succour from Scotland long they may
pray,--and after help from France what profits it to wait, (?)--I
ween.--It were better for him in Scotland--with his axe in his
hand--to play on the green.
And the body hangs fast on the gallows,--with iron clasps long
to last;--to guard well the body, and the Scotch to drive away
(?),--four-and-twenty there are for sooth at least--by night.--If
any one were so hardy--the body to remove--immediately to attack
them.
If Sir Robert the Bruce were come to this land,--and the Earl of
Athol that is hard in hand,--all the rest of the common people,
for truth I understand,--might be full blith, and thank God’s
sending,--with right:--then might each man--both ride and go--in
peace, without fighting.
The traitors of Scotland took counsel with themselves,--to bring
the barons of England to death;--Charles of France, as many a one
said,--with might and with strength would help them,--thanks to
him!--Tprot, Scot, for thy strife!--hang up thy hatchet and thy
knife,--while life lasts to him--with the long shanks.
* * * * *
The following song, remarkable for the playfulness of its metres
and rhymes, gives us a strong picture of the extortions committed
at this period of our history upon the weak and defenceless, by the
magistrates and the officers connected with the courts of law.
SONG ON THE VENALITY OF THE JUDGES.
[From MS. Harl. No. 913, fol. 59, r^o. of the beginning of the 14th
century. This song is in the MS. written as prose.]
Beati qui esuriunt
Et sitiunt, et faciunt
justitiam,
Et odiunt et fugiunt
injuriæ nequitiam;
Quos nec auri copia
Nec divitum encennia
trahunt a rigore,
nec pauperum clamore;
Quæ sunt justa judicant,
Et a jure non claudicant
divitum favore.
Sed nunc miro more
Multos fallit seculum,
Et trahit in periculum,
mundi ob favorem,
ut lambeant honorem.
Hoc facit pecunia,
Quam omnis fere curia
jam duxit in uxorem.
Sunt justitiarii,
Quos favor et denarii
alliciunt a jure;
Hii sunt nam bene recolo,
Quod censum dant diabolo,
et serviunt hii pure.
Nam jubet lex naturæ,
Quod judex in judicio
Nec prece nec pretio
acceptor sit personæ;
quid, Jhesu ergo bone,
Fiet de judicibus,
Qui prece vel muneribus
cedunt a ratione?
Revera tales judices
Nuncios multiplices
habent;--audi quare.
Si terram vis rogare,
Accedet ad te nuncius,
Et loquitur discretius,
dicens, “Amice care,
vis tu placitare?
Sum cum justitiario
Qui te modo vario
possum adjuvare;
si vis impetrare
Per suum subsidium,
Da michi dimidium,
et te volo juvare.”
Ad pedes sedent clerici,
Qui velut famelici
sunt, donis inhiantes;
et pro lege dantes,
Quod hii qui nichil dederint,
Quamvis cito venerint,
erunt expectantes.
Sed si quædam nobilis,
Pulcra vel amabilis,
cum capite cornuto,
auro circumvoluto,
Accedat ad judicium,
Hæc expedit negotium
ore suo muto.
Si pauper muliercula,
Non habens munuscula,
formam neque genus,
quam non pungit Venus,
Infecto negotio
Suo pergit hospitio,
dolendo corde tenus.
Sunt quidam ad hanc curiam,
Qui exprimunt juditiam;
dicuntur relatores;
cæteris pejores.
Utraque manu capiunt,
Et sic eos decipiunt
quorum sunt tutores.
Et quid janitores?
Qui dicunt pauperibus
Curiam sequentibus,
“Pauper, cur laboras?
Cur facis hic moras?
Nisi des pecuniam
Cuique ad hanc curiam,
in vanum laboras.
Quid, miser, ergo ploras?
Si nichil attuleris,
stabis omnino foras.”
De vicecomitibus,
Quam duri sunt pauperibus,
quis potest enarrare?
Qui nichil potest dare,
Huc et illuc trahitur,
Et in assisis ponitur,
et cogitur jurare,
non ausus murmurare.
Quod si murmuraverit,
Ni statim satisfecerit,
est totum salsum mare.
Hoc idem habent vitium,
Cum subeunt hospitium
cujusdam patriotæ,
vel abbathiæ notæ,
Quo potus et cibaria,
Et cuncta necessaria,
eis dentur devote.
Nil prosunt sibi talia,
Nisi mox jocalia
post prandium sequantur,
et cunctis largiantur,
Bedellis, garcionibus,
Et qui sunt secum omnibus.
Nec adhuc pacantur,
nisi transmittantur
Robæ suis uxoribus
Ex variis coloribus.
Si non clam mittantur,
Et post sic operantur;
Quotquot habent averia
Ad sua maneria
cum impetu fugantur,
et ipsi imparcantur
Quousque satisfecerint,
Ita quod duplum dederint;
tunc demum liberantur.
Clericos irrideo
Suos, quos prius video
satis indigentes,
et quasi nil habentes,
Quando ballivam capiunt;
Qua capta mox superbiunt,
et crescunt sibi dentes,
collaque erigentes,
Incipiunt perpropere
Terras et domos emere,
et redditus placentes;
nummosque colligentes,
Pauperes despiciunt,
Et novas leges faciunt,
vicinos opprimentes;
fiuntque sapientes.
In hoc malum faciunt,
Et patriam decipiunt,
nemini parcentes.
TRANSLATION.--Blessed are they who hunger and thirst, and do
justice, and hate and avoid the wickedness of injustice; whom
neither abundance of gold nor the jewels of the rich draw from
their inflexibility, or from the cry of the poor; they judge what
is just, and do not fall off from the right for the sake of the
rich. But now the age deceives many in a wonderful manner, and
draws them into danger, for love of the world, that they may lick
up honours. The cause of this is money, to which almost every
court has now wedded itself.
There are judges, whom partiality and bribes seduce from justice;
these are they, I remember well, that pay toll to the devil,
and they serve him alone. For the law of nature commands, that
a judge in giving judgment should not be an acceptor of anybody
either for prayer or money; what therefore, O good Jesus, will be
done with the judges, who for prayers or gifts recede from what
is just?
In fact such judges have numerous messengers;--listen for what
purpose. If you wish to claim land, a messenger will come to you,
and speaks in confidence, saying, “Dear friend, do you wish to
plead? I am one who can help you in various ways with the judge;
if you wish to obtain anything by his aid, give me half, and I
will help you.”
At his feet sit clerks, who are like people half-famished,
gaping for gifts; and proclaiming it as law, that those who give
nothing, although they come early, will have to wait.
But if some noble lady, fair and lovely, with horns on her head,
and that encircled with gold, come for judgment, such a one
despatches her business without having to say a word.
If the woman be poor, and has no gifts, neither beauty nor rich
relationship, whom Venus does not stimulate, she goes home
without effecting her business, sorrowful at heart.
There are some at this court, who express judgment; whom they
call relaters, worse than the others. They take with both hands,
and so deceive those whose defenders they are. And what shall we
say to the ushers? who say to the poor that follow the court,
“Poor man, why do you trouble yourself? why do you wait here?
unless you give money to everybody in this court, you labour
in vain. Why then, wretch, do you lament? If you have brought
nothing, you will stand altogether out of doors.”
Concerning the sheriffs, who can relate with sufficient fulness
how hard they are to the poor? He who has nothing to give is
dragged hither and thither, and is placed in the assises, and is
obliged to take his oath, without daring to murmur. But if he
should murmur, unless he immediately make satisfaction, it is all
salt sea.
The same people have this vice, when they enter the house of some
countryman, or of a famous abbey, where drink and victuals, and
all things necessary, are given to them devoutly. Such things
are of no avail, unless by and by the jewels follow after the
meal, and are distributed to all, bedels and garçons, and all
who are with them. Nor even yet are they paid, unless robes of
various colours are transmitted to their wives. If these are not
sent privately, then they proceed as follows; whatever cattle
they find, are driven off violently to their own manors, and
the owners themselves are put in confinement until they make
satisfaction, so that they give the double: then at length they
are liberated.
I laugh at their clerks, whom I see at first indigent enough, and
possessing next to nothing, when they receive a bailiwick; which
received they next show themselves proud, and their teeth grow,
and holding up their necks they begin very hastily to buy lands
and houses, and agreeable rents; and amassing money themselves,
they despise the poor, and make new laws, oppressing their
neighbours; and they become wise men. In this they do wickedness,
and deceive their country, sparing no one.
* * * * *
The next song was doubtlessly considered as very libellous at the
time when it was composed, and professes to have been written in
the wild wood; the means of publication being to drop it on the
high road, that it might fall into the hands of passengers. It is
directed against one of the king’s ordinances.
THE OUTLAW’S SONG OF TRAILLEBASTON.
[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 113, v^o. of the reign of Edw. II.]
Talent me prent de rymer e de geste fere
D’une purveaunce qe purveu est en la terre;
Mieux valsit uncore que la chose fust à fere:
Si Dieu ne prenge garde, je quy que sourdra guere.
Ce sunt les articles de Trayllebastoun;
Salve le roi meismes, de Dieu eit maleysoun
Qe a de primes graunta tiel commissioun!
Quar en ascuns des pointz n’est mie resoun.
Sire, si je voderoi mon garsoun chastier
De une buffe ou de deus, pur ly amender,
Sur moi betera bille, e me frad atachier,
E avant qe isse de prisone raunsoun grant doner.
Quaraunte souz pernent pur ma raunsoun,
E le viscounte vint à son guerdoun,
Qu’il ne me mette en parfounde prisoun.
Ore agardez, seigneurs, est-ce resoun?
Pur ce me tendroi antre bois sur le jolyf umbray;
Là n’y a fauceté ne nulle male lay;--
En le bois de Belregard, où vole le jay,
E chaunte russinole touz jours santz delay.
Mès le male doseynes, dount Dieu n’eit jà pieté!
Parmi lur fauce bouches me ount enditée
De male robberies e autre mavestée,
Que je n’os entre mes amis estre receptée.
J’ai servi my sire le roy en pées e en guere,
En Flaundres, Escoce, en Gascoyne sa terre;
Mès ore ne me sai-je point chevisaunce fere;--
Tot mon temps ay mis en veyn pur tiel honme plere.
Si ces maveis jurours ne se vueillent amender,
Que je pus à mon pais chevalcher e aler,
Si je les pus ateindre la teste lur froi voler,
De touz lur manaces ne dorroi un dener.
Ly Martyn et ly Knoville sunt gent de pieté,
E prient pur les povres qu’il eyent sauveté;
Spigurnel e Belflour sunt gent de cruelté,
Si il fuissent en ma baylie ne serreynt retornée.
Je lur apre[n]droy le giw de Traylebastoun,
E lur bruseroy l’eschyne e le cropoun,
Les bras e les jaunbes, ce serreit resoun,
La lange lur tondroy e la bouche ensoun.
Qy cestes choses primes comença,
Jà jour de sa vie amendé ne serra;
Je vus di pur veyr, trop graunt pecché en a,
Quar pur doute de prisone meint laroun serra.
Ytel devendra leres que ne fust unque mès,
Que pur doute de prisone ne ose venir à pes;
Vivre covient avoir chescum jour adès;
Qy ceste chose comenca, yl emprist grant fes.
Bien devoient marchaunz e moygnes doner maliçoun
A tous iceux que ordinerent le Traillebastoun;
Ne lur vaudra un ayle le roial proteccioun,
Que il ne rendrount les deners sauntz regerdoun.
Vus qy estes endité, je lou, venez à moy,
Al vert bois de Belregard, là n’y a nul ploy,
Forque beste savage e jolyf umbroy;
Car trop est dotouse la commune loy.
Si tu sachez de lettrure, e estes coroucé,
Devaunt les justices serrez appellée;
Uncore poez estre à prisone retornée,
En garde de le evesque, jesque seiez purgée,
E soffryr messayse e trop dure penaunce,
E par cas n’averez jamès delyveraunce.
Pur ce valt plus ou moi à bois demorer,
Q’en prisone le evesque fyerge gyser.
Trop est la penaunce e dure à soffrer;
Quy le mieux puet eslyre, fol est qe ne velt choyser.
Avant savoy poy de bien, ore su-je meins sage;
Ce me fount les male leis par mout grant outrage,
Qe n’os à la pes venyr entre mon lignage;
Les riches sunt à raunsoun, povres à escolage.
Fort serroit engager ce qe ne puet estre aquytée,
C’est la vie de honme que taunt est cher amée.
E je n’ay mye le chatel de estre rechatée;
Mès si je fusse en lur baundoun à mort serroi lyverée;
Uncore attendroy grace e orroi gent parler,
Tiels me dient le mal que me ne osent aprochier.
E volenters verroient mon corps ledenger;
Mès entre myl debles Dieu puet un honme sauver.
Cely me pust salver que est le fitz Marie;
Car je ne su coupable, endité su par envye;
Qy en cesti lu me mist, Dieu lur maldie!
Le siècle est si variant, fous est qe s’affye.
Si je sei compagnoun e sache de archerye,
Mon veisyn irra disaunt, “cesti est de compagnie,
De aler bercer à bois e fere autre folie;”
Que ore vueille vivre come pork merra sa vye.
Si je sache plus de ley qe ne sevent eux,
Yl dirrount, “cesti conspyratour comence de estre faus,”
E le heyre n’aprocheroy de x. lywes en d’eus;
De tous veysinages hony seient ceux.
Je pri tote bone gent qe pur moi vueillent prier,
Qe je pus à mon pais aler e chyvaucher;
Unqe ne fu homicide, certes à moun voler,
Ne mal robberes pur gent damager.
Cest rym fust fet al bois desouz un lorer,
Là chaunte merle, russinole, e cyre l’esperver;
Escrit estoit en parchemyn pur mout remenbrer,
E gitté en haut chemyn, qe um le dust trover.
TRANSLATION.--I am seized with the desire to rhyme and to make a
story,--of a purveyance which is provided in the land;--it would
be much better if the thing were still undone:--if God does not
avert it, I think that there will arise war.
It is the articles of Traillebaston;--except the king himself,
may he have God’s curse--whoever first granted such a
commission!--For there is little reason in any of the points of
it.
Sire, if I wished to chastise my lad--with a slap or two, to
amend him,--he will ask a bill against me, and will cause me to
be arrested,--and to give a great ransom before I escape from
prison.
Forty shillings they take for my ransom,--and the sheriff comes
for his fee,--that he may not put me in deep prison.--Now
consider, lords, is this right?
For this cause I will keep myself among the woods, in the
beautiful shade;--where there is no falseness and no bad law;--in
the wood of Beauregard, where the jay flies,--and where the
nightingale sings always without ceasing.
But the bad idlers, on whom may God have no pity!--with their
false mouths have indited me--of ill robberies and other
delinquency,--so that I dare not be received among my friends.
I have served my lord the king in peace and in war,--in Flanders,
Scotland, and his land of Gascony;--but now I do not know how to
make any expedient for myself;--all my time I have spent in vain
to please such a man.
If these wicked jurors will not amend,--that I may be able to
ride and go at my peace,--if I can reach them I will make their
heads fly off,--I would not give a penny for all their threats.
The Martin and the Knoville are people of piety,--and pray for
the poor that they may have safety;--Spigurnel and Belflour are
people of cruelty,--if they were in my keeping they should not be
returned.
I would teach them the game of Trailebaston,--and would break
their backbone and their crupper,--their arms and their legs, it
would be but right,--I would cut their tongues and their mouths
likewise.
He who first commenced these things,--never in his life will he
be amended;--I tell you for truth, he has committed therein too
great a sin,--for out of the fear of prison there will be many a
robber made.
He will become a robber who was never so before,--who for fear
of prison dare not come to peace;--it is necessary to have
livelihood every day as it comes;--he who commenced this thing,
undertook a great task.
Well may merchants and monks bestow a curse--on all those who
ordained the Trailebaston;--the royal protection will not be
worth a garlic to them,--if they do not repay the pence without
recompense.
You who are indited, I advise you, come to me,--to the green wood
of Beauregard, there where there is no plea,--except wild beast
and beautiful shade;--for the common law is too much to be feared.
If thou knowest letters, and art enraged,--thou shalt be called
before the justices;--again you may be returned to prison,--in
keeping of the bishop, until you be cleansed;--and suffer
mis-ease and too hard penance,--and perchance you will never have
deliverance.
Therefore it is better to dwell with me in the wood,--than to lie
cast in the bishop’s prison.--Too much is the penance, and hard
to suffer;--he who has the opportunity to select what is better,
is a fool if he does not make the choice.
Before I knew little what was good, now I am less wise;--the bad
laws cause this by very great outrage,--so that I dare not come
to the peace among my kindred;--the rich are put to ransom, the
poor to prison.
It would be penible to engage what cannot be acquitted;--that is
the life of man which is so dearly loved;--and I have not at all
the goods wherewith to be bought off;--but if I were in their
power I should be put to death.
Yet if I should expect grace and hear people talk,--those would
say evil to me who dare not approach me,--and would willingly
see my body disgraced.--But God can save a man in the midst of a
thousand devils.
He can save me, who is the son of Mary;--for I am not culpable, I
am indited out of malice;--God’s curse be on those who drove me
to this place!--The world is so variable, that he is a fool who
trusts in it.
If I am a companion and know archery,--my neighbour will go and
say, “This man belongs to a company,--to go hunt in the wood and
do other folly;”--so now I will live as a pig will lead his life.
If I happen to know more law than they know,--they will say this
conspirator begins to be treasonable,--and I will not approach
home within ten leagues of them;--of all neighbourhoods cursed be
those.
I pray all good people that they will pray for me,--that I may be
able to go and ride to my country;--I was never a homicide, at
least by design,--nor an ill robber to do people damage.
This rhyme was made in the wood beneath a bay tree,--there sings
the thrush, the nightingale, and the hawk cries (?);--it was
written on parchment to be better remembered,--and cast in the
highway, that people may find it.
* * * * *
The following song is a satire upon the numerous retinues of the
nobles and rich people, whose idle attendants and servants preyed
upon the produce of the industrious peasantry. It shows us how
great were the pride and ostentation of the courtiers of the latter
years of Edward the First.
A SONG AGAINST THE RETINUES OF THE GREAT PEOPLE.
[MS. Harl. 2253, fol. 124, v^o; of reign of Edw. II.]
Of ribaudz y ryme
Ant rede o mi rolle,
Of gedelynges, gromes,
Of Colyn ant of Colle,
Harlotes, hors-knaves,
Bi pate ant by polle;
To devel ich hem to-lvyre
Ant take to tolle!
The gedelynges were gedered
Of gonnylde gnoste;
Palefreiours ant pages,
Ant boyes with boste;
Alle weren y-haht
Of an horse thoste:
The devel huem afretye,
Rau other a-roste!
The shuppare that huem shupte,
To shome he huem shadde,
To fles ant to fleye,
To tyke ant to tadde;
So seyth Romaunz,
Whose ryht radde,--
Fleh com of flore,
Ant lous com of ladde.
The harlotes bueth horlynges,
Ant haunteth the plawe:
The gedelynges bueth glotouns,
Ant drynketh er hit dawe.
Sathanas huere syre
Seyde on is sawe,
Gobelyn made is gerner
Of gromene mawe.
The knave crommeth is crop,
Er the cok crawe;
He momeleth ant moccheth,
Ant marreth is mawe;
When he is al for-laped,
Ant lad over lawe,
A doseyn of doggen
Ne myhte hyre drawe.
The rybaudz a-ryseth
Er the day rewe;
He shrapeth on is shabbes,
Ant draweth huem to dewe.
Sene is on is browe
Ant on is eȝe-brewe,
That he louseth a losynger,
And shoyeth a shrewe.
Nou beth capel-claweres
With shome to-shrude;
Hue bosketh huem with botouns,
Ase hit were a brude;
With lowe lacede shon
Of an hayfre hude,
Hue pyketh of here provendre
Al huere prude.