MS. Cotton Galba E. ix (about 1425), f. 55 b.
_How Edward als þe romance sais
Held his sege bifor Calais._
Calays men, now mai ȝe care,
And murni<n>g mun ȝe haue to mede;
Mirth on mold get ȝe no mare,
Sir Edward sall ken ȝow ȝowre crede.
Whilum war ȝe wight in wede 5
To robbing rathly for to ren;
Mend ȝow sone of ȝowre misdede:
Ȝowre care es cumen, will ȝe it ken.
Kend it es how ȝe war kene
Al Inglis men with dole to dere. 10
Þaire gudes toke ȝe al bidene,
No man born wald ȝe forbere.
Ȝe spared noght with swerd ne spere
To stik þam, and þaire gudes to stele.
With wapin and with ded of were 15
Þus haue ȝe wonnen werldes wele.
Weleful men war ȝe iwis,
Bot fer on fold sall ȝe noght fare:
A bare sal now abate ȝowre blis
And wirk ȝow bale on bankes bare. 20
He sall ȝow hunt, als hund dose hare,
Þat in no hole sall ȝe ȝow hide;
For all ȝowre speche will he noght spare,
Bot bigges him right by ȝowre side.
Biside ȝow here þe bare bigins 25
To big his boure in winter tyde,
And all bityme takes he his ines
With semly se<r>gantes him biside.
Þe word of him walkes ful wide—
Iesu saue him fro mischance! 30
In bataill dar he wele habide
Sir Philip and Sir Iohn of France.
Þe Franche men er fers and fell,
And mase grete dray when þai er dight;
Of þam men herd slike tales tell, 35
With Edward think þai for to fight,
Him for to hald out of his right,
And do him treson with þaire tales:
Þat was þaire purpos, day and night,
Bi counsail of þe Cardinales. 40
Cardinales with hattes rede
War fro Calays wele thre myle;
Þai toke þaire counsail in þat stede
How þai might Sir Edward bigile.
Þai lended þare bot litill while 45
Till Franche men to grante þaire grace:
Sir Philip was funden a file,
He fled and faght noght in þat place.
In þat place þe bare was blith,
For all was funden þat he had soght. 50
Philip þe Valas fled ful swith
With þe batail þat he had broght.
For to haue Calays had he thoght
All at his ledeing, loud or still;
Bot all þaire wiles war for noght: 55
Edward wan it at his will.
Lystens now, and ȝe may lere,
Als men þe suth may vnderstand,
Þe knightes þat in Calais were
Come to Sir Edward sare wepeand. 60
In kirtell one, and swerd in hand,
And cried, 'Sir Edward, þine <we> are.
Do now, lord, bi law of land
Þi will with vs for euermare'.
Þe nobill burgase and þe best 65
Come vnto him to haue þaire hire.
Þe comun puple war ful prest
Rapes to bring obout þaire swire.
Þai said all: 'Sir Philip, oure syre,
And his sun, Sir Iohn of France, 70
Has left vs ligand in þe mire,
And broght vs till þis doleful dance.
Our horses þat war faire and fat
Er etin vp ilkone bidene;
Haue we nowþer conig ne cat 75
Þat þai ne er etin, and hundes kene
Al er etin vp ful clene—
Es nowther leuid biche ne whelp—
Þat es wele on oure sembland sene,
And þai er fled þat suld vs help.' 80
A knight þat was of grete renowne—
Sir Iohn de Viene was his name—
He was wardaine of þe toune
And had done Ingland mekill schame.
For all þaire boste þai er to blame, 85
Ful stalworthly þare haue þai streuyn.
A bare es cumen to mak þam tame,
Kayes of þe toun to him er gifen.
Þe kaies er ȝolden him of þe ȝate,—
Lat him now kepe þam if he kun. 90
To Calais cum þai all to late,
Sir Philip, and Sir Iohn his sun.
Al war ful ferd þat þare ware fun,
Þaire leders may þai barely ban.
All on þis wise was Calais won: 95
God saue þam þat it sogat wan!