The Political Songs of England

Translation.—I will use against vices rebelling song; others put forward honey, while under the honey they lay on gall; the iron breast is concealed under the gilt skin, and asses put on the lion’s spoil.—The rebelling face disputes with the soul within; honey flows from the mouth, the mind is full of gall; it is not all sweet that looks like honey; the breast has a different countenance from the skin.—While vice is in the work, virtue is in the face; they cover the pitchy blackness of the mind with a white colour; each of the members suffers by the pain of the head, and the flavour of the apple depends upon the root from whence it springs.—Rome is the head of the world; but it receives nothing clean; all that depends from the head is unclean; for the first vice passes on into the second, and that which is near the bottom smells of the bottom.—Rome receives all, and the goods of all; the court of the Romans is but a market. There are offered for sale the rights of the senators, and abundance of money dissolves all differences of opinion.—Here, in the consistory, if any body plead a cause, be it his own or another’s, let him first read this,—“Unless he give money, Rome denies every thing; he who gives most money will come off the best.”—The Romans have a chapter in the decretals, that they should listen to petitions from those who come with their hands full; thou shalt give, or nothing shall be granted thee; they ask because thou askest; by the same measure as you sow, you shall reap.—A bribe and a petition go side by side, and it is with a bribe that you must work if you wish to succeed: then you need have no fear, even of Tully, were he pleading against you; for money possesses a singular eloquence.—There is nobody in this court who does not look after money: the cross on the coin pleases them; the roundness of it, and the whiteness thereof, pleases them; and since every part of it pleases, and it is the Romans whom it pleases, where money speaks, there all law is silent.—If you only feed the hand well with some goodly bribe, it will be in vain even to quote Justinian against you, or the canons of the saints, because they would throw them away as vanity and chaff, and pocket the grain.—Penurious Rome claims acquaintance with nothing but avarice; she spares to him who brings gifts, but she spares not to him who is penurious: money stands in the place of God, and a marc for Mark, and the altar is less attended than the coffer.—When you come to the Pope, take it as a rule, that there is no place for the poor, he favours only the giver; or if there is not a bribe of some value or another forthcoming, he answers you, “I am not able.”—The Pope, if we come to the truth of the matter, has his name from the fact, that, whatever others have, he alone will suck the pap; or if you like to apocopate a French word, “pay, pay,” saith the word, if you wish to obtain anything.—The Pope begs, the brief begs, the bull begs, the gate begs, the cardinal begs, the cursor begs,—all beg! and if you have not wherewith to bribe them all, your right is wrong, and the whole cause comes to nothing.—You give to these, you give to the others, you add gifts to those already given, and when you should have given enough, they seek as much more. O, you full purses, come to Rome! at Rome there is choice medicine for costive pockets.—They all prey upon the purse by little and little; great, greater, or greatest, gradually becomes a prey to them. Why should I go through all the particulars? I will put it in a few words; they all choke the purse, and it expires immediately.—Yet the purse imitates the liver of Tityus; the substance flies in order to return; dies that it may be born: and on this condition Rome preys upon the pocket, that when it has given all, it may all be filled again.—They return from the court with mitred heads; Jupiter is placed in the Infernal Regions, Pluto holds Heaven, and dignity is given to a brute animal, as a jewel to the dung and a picture to the mud.—The rich give to the rich, that they may receive again, and gifts mutually meet one another: that law is most in use, which they have caused to be written, “If you give to me, I will give to you.”

Translation.—A four-fold rage had crept upon the English nation. Conspiring against its own government, and threatening rebellion, the degenerate nation,—that it may change freedom for slavery,—that it may fall from its high position, from health to sickness, from safety to danger,—lays claim to ancient laws under a hostile governor; not governed by the balance of the law, not by the light of justice, nor by the fire of holy counsel, nor yet by the file of reason, the will, in despite of reason, darts like lightning into what is forbidden. ¶ The first rage was conceived by its own pride; the second drew hither the warlike legions of the French; the third conducted the black troops of the Scots; the fourth bent the inconstant Welsh under their light garment. ¶ The leagues of peace are broken, and the threatening thunders follow; corrupt licence has crept into the astonished towers, in which Faith lay hid and sick, and long waiting a physician of health, at length by the generosity of Christ she recovered, and drew out her bands to the wars. ¶ This rage, by the sufferance of God, was permitted for a while, but not allowed that the lightnings should burn the effeminate minds, or that the anger of God should confound the defenceless. But the Searcher of hearts recalled by his own love the sheep which sought the desert and were long wandering, that he might correct the deserving faults with a healing lash, and reconciling his divine threats with paternal mercy, softened the corrections of a father with the love of a mother. ¶ The honour of the English bowed, and the comeliness of the Kingdom; its bending head had felt the anger of the divine judge, and feared to serve the proud tyrant. The balanced palm, long held out with dubious favour, now smiled on the French, now turned its smile to the English, applauding with more truth these latter, more deceitful to the others. ¶ The anger of an avenging God allowed no longer the furious king to reign; he fell, struck by him whose temples and houses he had burnt with threatening fire. From this torch arises the torch of fate, and the avenging fever, while it raged against the king, drove away the rage of the flame. That death was the highest honour, and was accompanied with the highest glory, that he was in nothing overcome by the enemy, amidst so many enemies; vanquished by the conqueror who is above, and unconquered, he bit his own enemies even in his death. ¶ Let proud anger cease; let power learn to serve and to bow to God, in submitting the neck to whom she elevates herself; in rising she falls: short is the power of man; and let it learn that the end approaches in a few days. ¶ The widowed state had mourned the death of John, and, fearing to bow the neck to a degenerate husband, the tear of the English calls up the strength of England; the heavier the grief, the nearer is its cure. ¶ Meanwhile had shone forth the minute spark of most small beauty, the royal offspring, sole hope of the torn Kingdom, a star, as it were, lit by God, it had divested itself of the cloud that obscured its father, shining forth a new light, and the candle of the child called back the stars which had been scared by the father’s thunder. ¶ O precious piety of God! who masters things that are great, confounds those that are strong, raises such as are infirm, strikes ferocity with lightning, breaks the haughty, who himself having come a child out of the virgin’s womb, thus took a child to nourish, gave it to the bosom of the Church, which the gentle parent receives in a mother’s arms, rendered gentle by the obedience now newly born, and about to place on its head a tender crown. It was heavenly ordinance, that the consonant union of holy counsel feared not to obey a boy king, and feared more to serve a tyrant. ¶ Sacred union matures the new king to lofty things; utility, and piety, and faith, swear together to concur with the fates, and to sign them all with the seal of the Cross; they had raised together the standard of the Cross and had ranged themselves round the new King, and the white cross decorating the bearers of the Cross fixed the unstable troops in the foundation of faith. ¶ O famous legation of a man! file of blessed council! star of right! mirror of reason! helmet of the worship of God! crested with the plume of care! England hath grasped her conquering swords by impulse of God; her castles pour forth for the common good the standard-bearing troops, fierce in war, and threatening the enemy. ¶ What time the Earth had begun to bloom with new fruitfulness, and had spread out her fresh grass in locks, redolent of flowers had painted the young fleece of the fields, and, whilst the new verdure curled the renascent woods, recalled innumerable tongues of birds to the song; then the Gallic fury had resolved to join the English of the north, the band having conspired to pass through the midst of the English, having issued from their London, the army of Louis deserted the long shades, and the proud earls have the shame of going the way that is open to them, and they carry fierce aid to Mountsorrel; for as a greater victory attends it, so has the anger of God ordained that it should not undergo a greater ruin. But with more caution retires thence the nobility of earls, the flower of the faith, the royal strength, the shield of Chester, until with roaring tumult the rage of the others had passed the famous castle on the heights (Nottingham), and the bank of Trent, and the pride of long war had flown to the besieged citadel of the noble matron (Lincoln). ¶ Hither when the fates have turned the fierce troops with a murmuring noise, Fame flies, and calls the earls, and the Cestrensian companions of the earls, and the shielded harvest of men increases. The royal standards glitter, and the conspiring bands follow, when clear faith at last draws out their faces, the bright signs of the Cross paint the excelling breasts of the youth, a common will strengthens their hearts; there was one sole hope of conquering; victory was already stamped on all their faces; and with a shout, ominous of good, they put forth their associated hands to the accordant battle. ¶ The sabbath was at hand in which the festival of the high God is performed, and the eve celebrates the triune honour of the deity; the sun was touching the earth with his first light, when the trumpet with its terrible song had given the flourish; the leaders move iron war; many were the standards you might see with tremulous flight above the nodding helms, many the shields changing their ensigns with various colours. The beauty of the sun shone upon the armed troops; the coward became feverish; the brave strengthened their hearts. When the constancy of war came to the astonished town, the youth encircled the walls with a fearful wreath, and seek new approaches; nor do the leaders immediately attack the city; a legation is sent in to summon the sacrilegious men to the league of peace. Yet no peace satisfied these fierce men; they utter insults, despise the messengers, and add threatening words. ¶ When the messengers bring back the angry message, the leaders order their bold followers to the attack; then the horror of war roared, the trumpets thundered, a fearful noise rose into the air, and in the resounding tumult the clouds might wonder at earthly thunders. They leap over the fosses, mount over the walls, break the gates, force the passages, and join battle. And they made way with their swords; a merited confusion strikes the sacrilegious men; the hives of Christ send forth the iron-girt bees of war, and with fearful stings they penetrate the hostile shirts, and cut the scaly textures of iron, and draw Sauls to the chains of Paul, and the holy conversion turned hares into lions. ¶ Here stood Moses in the Mount; here Josua had fixed the station of the sun; there the sling and stone of David overcome the great Golias; the honour of Lincoln sees the venerable wonder; the rage of the sea sees the imperial trophy of God; the four-fold plague sees the standards rise again against it with conquering palm. It saw, and was astonished; and the pride of war felt that God fought for the boy; nor was it quiet by its own will, but it burst, and received the feet of peace on its neck. ¶ O famous day, to be venerated through our age! in which the rage of war hid itself,—in which the peace-bringing sword subdued our pestiferous divisions,—in which the grace of Christ washed out the dishonour that had been brought forth, and, with the font of faith, cleansed from the averted brow the disgrace which had been inscribed on it.

Translation.—How wide and how long is the web of crimes with which our breasts, choked with vices, are enveloped, tell, and reveal, O muse, with a mournful countenance, if you care to touch the heart of the spectator with your lament.—The wretched and profane people seem to form their wishes in consideration, not of the price of virtue, but of flax or wool: what is done in the evening is unwrought in the morning. O cares of men! O how much emptiness there is in things!—Every eye is blind to justice; every mind is large to injustice; a thousand hopes of men and the differing aspects of things depend on the dice and uses of fortune.—When chaste maidens join in dance with the strumpet, when the Arabs play the pauper under the robe of a beggar, when Tydeus denies his faith to his Polynices, then, if you are admitted to the spectacle, my friends, can you restrain your laughter?—If you are anxious to know all men by their several failings, who practise sloth, who are the plotters of treason, who the servants of Mammon, who the despisers of God, we must observe the manners of every age of life.—The boy, as he learns the use of feet, hates the doors, flies abroad; he respects things and honours less than the least; anger and joy succeed each other with short intervals, for his changes are sudden.—The youth flies from his tutor and confinement; he delights in horses, dogs, dice, and wine, a hunter of his pleasures, whose occupation is with women, a slow provider of useful things, prodigal of money.—When arrived at manhood, that he may rule the citizens and dictate to the prætor, that he may extend his possessions with a longer cable, and fill his bags with greater treasure, he seeks riches and friendships, and is a slave to honours.—Many serious troubles surround the old man, either that, from stinginess, he spares his perishing wealth, or that he handles his riches with fear, lest they should fall to the thief; he is one who delays long, depending on hope, inactive, and greedy of the future.—Thus difference of time causes variety of ages; the tender age is occupied on the affections of the heart, the man on lofty things, but he whom old age bends, his breast glows with avarice and miserable cupidity.—In this respect the whole mind of men grows old, which, while it seeks things external, is ignorant of itself in the pursuit; ambition is not quieted by success: the love of money increases as fast as the money itself increases.—But in this point alone may vice claim some credit, that it is always prevalent among the great; yet that disposition which respects no control is the more conspicuously criminal, in proportion as the sinner occupies a higher station.—Rome, lying in the depths of turpitude, ranks virtues beneath filthy lucre; fluctuating under the waves of a vacillating mind, she overthrows, builds, and changes square things for round.—She despises the bland countenances at which but now she smiled; she cherishes in her placid breast those whom before she rolled down; while she receives money, she treats and revises: what she sought she despises, and seeks again what lately she let go.—If she does not perceive rightly a thing in any manner whatever, and has not forgotten the custom which she first learnt, she smells of the custom of the cask, which will keep very long the odour with which it was once endued while fresh.—Before the cardinals and before the patriarch, a pound overcomes the Bible, money the accused, and a marc Mark, the law sparing to him who is not sparing, gives only as much grace as each has money in his purse.—If you seek the balance of the judges, you should seek it with copper, since the favour of the balance hangs from copper; you should not ask respite, but ask what they ask; whence you obtain it nobody will inquire, but you needs must have it.—When you are turned over to the notary, pour out your bribes; he will at once extricate you from your cause, when, why, or whence it may arise, and will subject the canons to the form that is round (i. e. the coin), whom prosperity delights not a little.—Rome teaches all that they should fly over to expediency, that they should offer heart and hand to Mammon rather than to God; thus it happens that the branches smell of a bad root; where the head is infirm, the other members are in pain.—The archbishops tread under foot the necks of the clergy, and extort tears in order that they may be dried by gifts; nor, if the poor wretches bring few or not good ones, do they take them in good part, or acknowledge them with favour.—If any one begins to complain of an injury, they immediately stretch their ear to the cause, their hand to the gift; if they once receive a thing of the plural number, to-morrow the same basenesses may be done as yesterday.—The bishop loves a cheerful giver, and dares either right or wrong after the smell of a bribe, unable to resume, after he has thrown shame aside, the blush once rejected from his worn brow.—Nor is there less baseness in the archdeacon; whom he has once taken up, whether in earnest or in joke, he holds; nor has he mercy for the needy or the naked; the leech which will not let go the skin till he is filled with blood.—The dean, born to everlasting wiles, that he may explore the creed (symbolum) and the things which succeed, changing the tune of his tongue and yesterday’s garments, migrates with humble speech to the obscure taverns.—The priest, whatever either the dead or the living give, carries all to his fireside-woman, to whom he gives himself and what he has; he of the holy name and the equal mind, who meditates the law of the Lord by day and by night.—The laymen resting on the words of the clergy who depart from them, pay less attention to the words than to the character of the teacher: nor can laws subdue the senses of men by threats and torments, so much as the example of the ruler.—The luxurious princes stir kingdoms and states, that they may lead armies, inflicting the punishment of a tax on the rustic and the miserable citizen; for whenever the kings run wild, the Greeks pay the piper.—They who are occupied with the cares of the kingdom or of the court, detract while they smile, and when they flatter they are plotting damage or disgrace; there is neither faith nor honesty in those who follow camps.—If a citizen perceive you, he caresses that he may burn you; if you lay down ten, he puts the payment of his stake to another time; he cheats you out of your own; look to it, while it lasts; he may perish behind the wine and the dice, who leaves care till to-morrow.—If any one going to the houses of the lawyers, carries his money openly, he also is a simpleton; for when he sleeps in his bed weary and full, people live by rapine, the guest is not safe from his host.—Thus rapine, snares, treachery, and strife, lead people into error, misery, and folly; thus ambition and luxury, and the revered possession of riches, allure the foolish minds of all men.—But what availeth luxury and power to those miserable people who, despising virtues, esteem only things that produce evil, such as gold, gems, and heaps of wealth? when our labour is expended on what is injurious to us, the misery of mortals is on the increase.—What avails it to talk of purple, gems, gold, land? With riches we have feuds, losses, pleas, fastings, fears, and justly sleepless cares come in a long train.—The poor man reigns more safely than he that amasses wealth, who, while the informer deprives the lord of his favour, or the lurking spoiler spoils him who is laden, he, an empty traveller, will sing before the thief.—They who are destitute often live more pleasantly under a slight hut of brick or mud, than those who are delicately clothed in the palaces of kings; he will be ever a slave who knows not how to use moderation.—But if you seek abundance of true property, reject superfluity, seek what is enough, strip yourself of riches, and die naked; delay not this, for those who are prepared are ever injured by delay.—If while you are on your road to what is more useful, fear dissuade hope, or delay endanger success; change not your mind, nor slacken your reins; the grateful hour will arrive when least expected.—Treasure up that which you cannot abuse, having a care of the needy, the blind, the lame, and the dumb; serve your soul, and not your mind or your skin; you owe little to pleasure, but more to your salvation.—No one is safe on a king’s throne, or in a sanctuary, since it can be expressed neither by tongue nor pen by how slender a thread the destinies of men hang under the imminent approach of death.—While you navigate prosperously the far side of the sea, weigh not the present but the future, and considering the poop more than the prow or the oar, act as though you thought every day your last.

Translation.—I am seized by a great desire of writing a sirvente,—O rich yet cowardly men! and I know not what I shall say to you,—for there will be little room for praise;—nor dare I blame you, and a sirvente is worth little—which praises when it ought to blame:—but though it may seem all folly to you,—yet it pleases me more to blame you by telling the truth,—than if I spoke falsehood to please you.

Both the kings have resolved on one thing,—he of Aragon and he of the English,—that by them the land shall not be defended,—and that they will do ill to no one who does ill to them;—they are merciful and courteous;—for they let the King who is conquering Syria—retain their fiefs altogether in peace;—our Lord ought to be very thankful to them for it.

Shame seizes on me, when a vanquished people—holds us thus all subdued and conquered,—and such shame ought to seize—the King of Aragon, as seizes me,—and the King who loses Normandy,—but they take such company—that now they never perform their duty,—and I never saw another hold so well.

And afterwards he does not receive the tax,—which at Montpellier his burgesses take from him,—neither does he revenge himself of the disgrace he received there,—now Carcasson may no more be recovered by him;—for he would not defend his own eyes,—his only endeavour is that he may be in peace;—a noble lord with great power has no peace,—when he turns his ways to nonchalance.

To praise people too much, when valour is ill esteemed,—I do not call it peace, for it is bad war;—nor shall it now be understood by me for peace,—it ought rather to have the name of pages’ play,—and of the rich who lose every day—honour, and yet it grieves them not much,—for they lose little and need not grieve much,—for we cannot be moved much by a little thing.

The king Don Alfonso has left covetousness—to the other kings, because he will not make use of it,—and he has taken for his share largess,—he has an ill share who wishes to recover this from him;—and I tell you that it appears to me villany,—when one shares and takes the best to himself;—yet no one has done otherwise than right,—when he has taken that which others will not have.

Rich men ill-advised, if I knew any thing in you—worthy of praise, I would willingly tell you of it;—but think not to take up my leisure,—for I desire neither your thanks nor your goods.

Translation.—Everybody has a right to satirize the world’s vices; for now I see many in the world err, despise what is good, love what is bad, and most frequently turning off spontaneously to evil.—Because the world is depraved, it knows how to do injury; it knows how to act ill, but not how to repent; the flesh will do all it can to possess whatever it desires, but is unable to fulfill God’s commandments.—Now nobody is esteemed unless he knows how to litigate; unless he can cavil cunningly in law-suits; unless he can overreach the simple; unless he know how to amass abundance of money.—The state of the world is at the present day constantly changing; it is always becoming miserably worse; for he who spares nobody, and who is bent most on gain, is most beloved and most commended.—The King and his nobles are sufficiently bitter; almost all the rich men are too avaricious; the poor man, who possesses little, must be robbed and spoiled of his property to enrich the wealthy.—The rich man is blinded by superfluous wealth; his whole mind is occupied with temporal matters; and, since he is too much pleased with vanities, he puts off the doing of good, but avoids not the evil.—Of the prelates, there are very many who, having no fear of God, do evil under the mask of good, and they often do more injury than the laymen; they take great care of the body, but feed ill the mind.—Now impiety reigns, piety is driven away, and noble liberality is sent into far exile; for narrow stinginess is the companion of many, and thus in many charity is become cold.—Right and wrong march nearly on an equal footing; there is now scarcely one who is ashamed of doing what is unlawful; the man is held dear who knows how to flatter, and he enjoys a singular privilege.—Lucre is a thing too much sought after; whoever has an eye to it, is considered prudent; he who keeps very close what he has, is called a wise man; he who gives liberally, is set down for a fool.—Treachery accompanies avarice; perfidy is now put on equality with honesty; for he who knows how to deceive, is proclaimed a prudent man; and he who does most ill is most prized.—There are four persons in particular who work thus; who, even while doing ill, are meditating to do worse, whose crimes are sufficiently declared below, and whose names are as follows:—They are four brothers, Robert, and Richard; next Gilbert, a true Wandelard; the fourth is a bastard brother, Geoffrey, who is a sluggard, and slow to do anything good.—Each of them has a very appropriate name, by which his own character is described; for if any one interpret rightly the names, he may know most accurately what each signifies.—By Robert, is very sufficiently indicated a robber; and by Richard, with much fitness, a rich hard man; Gilbert is not without reason called a guiler; and Geoffrey is, if we come to the point, changed into jo frai (i. e. I will do it).—By these people’s names, which are thus described, are denoted the habit, and fraud, and works, of many men; and in order that these may be made more manifest to all, they are here published better and more fully—Robert fleeces, extorts, and threatens; and Richard keeps all he gains; Gilbert deceives, and afterwards boasts of it; Geoffrey procrastinates, and does nothing.—I will follow up the truth now in full cry: every ravenous man is the companion of Robert; a false and miserly man is similar to Gilbert; a slow and listless man is, without doubt, a Geoffrey.—The latter idly protracts the time, behindhand at whatever hour is appointed, he neglects to do what is good, and by putting off the good he falls into that which is evil, and he is always backward in acting well:—he promises anything, but will perform nothing; he always says, “I will do,” but never does; but when death is at hand, he begins to lament: there is great danger in repenting so late.—Let every one take care that he is not himself deceived; let him try to repent before his end, that he may merit well while he is in health, lest by putting it off, he chance to die before it is done.—The Lord, who is the fountain and author of the highest degree of piety, give us here the inclination so to mourn for our faults, and to be penitent spontaneously while we are in health, that in the next world we may be in joy with the saints!

Translation.—The Cambrians, who are used to slay the Saxons, salute their relations the Britons and Cornish-men: they require them to come with their sharp swords to conquer their Saxon enemies.—Come now, vigorously, armed with coats of mail; a great part of the Saxons are fallen in mutual slaughter, the remainder shall be slain by us: now is the time for you to show of what blood you are sprung.—The soothsayer Merlin never said a thing that was vain; he foretold that the mad people should be expelled. And you do not keep this wise counsel; observe deceitful people of whom the whole race is accursed.—If our valiant predecessor, King Arthur, had been now alive, I am sure not one of the Saxon walls would have resisted him; he would have been hard to them, spite of their prayers, as they have deserved.—May the Omnipotent procure him a successor only similar to him, I would not desire a better, who may deliver the Britons from their old grievance, and restore to them their country and their country’s glory.—May it please the uncle of Arthur to obtain this for us, a certain very great saint, [to send] the Englishman over the sea; we know that his festival is approaching on the kalends of March (St. David’s day), may he make it his study to recall the Britons to their native land.—Sons imitate their virtuous fathers, so let the Britons take Arthur for their example in valour; they show from what a good and brave man they are descended; as Arthur was, so let them be, conquerors!—The Roman power reigned at Paris, the bold giant Frollo, with the bearish mind; him Arthur slew: every person of good faith believes it: witness the tent and the Parisian island.—He is a madman who kills the noble Britons: it seems that he holds them thus hated; for he invidiously proclaims them hateful always and incessantly, who he hears are victorious.—Of this nation there have been four great commanders, Arthur and Broinsius, powerful warriors; Constantine and Brennius, more powerful, if it were possible; these held the monarchy by reason of their being the best.—France can only boast of her Charlemaine; and England glories in the valour of King Richard; a larger number overcomes a smaller, because a four-fold glory increases the valour of the King.—To these latter it was granted to reign within their own bounds; to the others, to triumph, over commanders, governors, and kings, with whom they can in no respect claim equality: it is a far greater thing to command, than to reign.

Translation.—Now comes the time of May, when the rose will open,—when the seasons will be fair, and the nightingale sing,—the fields will be green, and the gardens will bloom;—I have found behind me a thing which I will relate.

Of my King of England, who is in a good ship,—a valiant knight, hardy, and loyal,—and of Edward his son, who hath flaxen hair,—it pleases me to make a saying which is quite new.

And of that King of France, that long baron,—who held Normandy wrongfully by ill event;—long time did he settle his house upon Paris,—that he never but for a war alone put on his spur.

Lords, attend to me; you must not laugh:—all the world ought to cry this news which I bring.—The other day there was at London a great assembly;—there no baron, from the best to the worst, would move,

But they would all come to this great debating.—There would have been done such a thing, I believe truly,—that it would have caused the French King a great fright—concerning the lands which he holds against the English people.

Lords, it is a long time since Merlin prophecied—that Philip of France, a lord who was formerly,—should conquer all the land, such as it is, on this side;—but, at all events, I say it, the English will still have it.

Now is come the time that the English would make an inroad,—if he should find the French inclined to grumble,—who would appear frightened by swords and by greyhounds(?),—that he would have no courage to grumble against the English.

The good King of England drew himself on one side,—he and Richard his brother, as angry as leopards.—He sighs from behind, and so cries with alacrity,—“O God! how may I have my part of Normandy?”

“Do not disturb yourself at all,” said the Earl of Gloucester,—“you may still do it; such things may still easily be,—if God preserve my backside, my foot, and my right fist,—thou shalt still be entire master over Paris.”

The Earl of Winchester said to the noble King of England,—“King, King, wilt thou follow? Set agoing the war,—and I will conduct thee all thy people in abundance:—at this juncture thou wilt be able to conquer Normandy.

“If I can constrain the King of France to a battle,—and I can strike him with my lance behind,—I think that I shall make him fall so hard—that he will break his head, or my tail will be broken.

“I will take good right, if I can, with God’s will,—when I shall have in my hand Normandy and Poitou,—I will make my English people approach to Paris,—and then I will go to take France in spite of the Earl of Anjou.

“By the five wounds of God! the French are in bad case;—if I can lay hold upon them, truly they shall be punished.—When the English go there, there will be a great disturbance;—God’s death! I think they will all fly away.”

Sir Simon de Montfort heard this speech,—then he leaped on his feet; he did not look very handsome.—Says he to the English King, “By the body of the holy Lamb!—now let this thing alone; the Frenchman is not a lamb.

“If you attack them, they will defend themselves:—he will burn all thy tents to ashes.—There is no man so valiant who dare wait for him;—they will be in ill case whom the Frenchman can catch.”

“What is that you say, Simon?” replied Roger Bigot;—“do you take the King for a simpleton and a fool?—if you are so bold as to say another word,—you will not serve yourself with your best coat.”

“Sir Roger,” said the King, “for God’s sake! dont be in a heat;—I am not so angry against this scamp.—I dont care half a farthing for all the French that are;—I will do as I like, let the matter go as it will.

“I will easily take Paris, I am quite certain;—I will set fire to the river which is called Seine;—I will burn the mill; this will be a very grievous thing,—if they eat no bread all the week.

“By the five wounds of God! Paris is a very great city!—There is a chapel, of which I am desirous;—I will cause it to be carried in a rolling cart,—straight to Saint Amont in London, just as it stands.

“When I have led all my ships to Paris,—I will cause the Chancellor in the monastery of St. Denis—to crown Edward on his flaxen hair.—There I will kill for you cows and pigs.

“I believe that you will see there a great feast,—when France shall have crowned Edward’s head. He has well deserved it, my son; he is no fool;—he is a good knight, brave, and courteous.”

“Sir King,” said Roger, “for God’s sake, listen to me;—thou hast pierced me behind, so much has pity overcome me;—Now may God Almighty ordain by his commandment,—that thou perform this thing very gloriously!”

Translation.—Write quickly, O pen of one who, writing such things as follow, blesses and praises with his tongue, thee, O right hand of God the Father, Lord of virtues, who givest prosperity at thy nod to thine own, whenever it is thy will; let all those people now learn to put their trust in thee, whom they, who are now scattered, wished to destroy—they of whom the head is now taken, and the members are in captivity; the proud people is fallen; the faithful are filled with joy. Now England breathes in the hope of liberty; [10] to which (England) may the grace of God give prosperity! The English were despised like dogs; but now they have raised their head over their vanquished enemies.

In the year of grace one thousand two hundred and sixty-four, and on the Wednesday after the festival of St. Pancras, the army of the English bore the brunt of a great battle at the castle of Lewes: for reasoning yielded to rage, and life to the sword. They met on the fourteenth of May, [20] and began the battle of this terrible strife; which was fought in the county of Sussex, and in the bishopric of Chichester. The sword was powerful; many fell; truth prevailed; and the false men fled. For the Lord of valour resisted the perjured men, and defended those who were pure with the shield of truth. The sword without, and fear within, routed the former; the favour of heaven comforted very fully the latter. The solemnities of the victor, and the sacred crowns, [30] give testimony on this contest; since the Church honoured the said persons as saints, and victory crowned the true soldiers. The wisdom of God, which rules the whole world, performed miracles and made a joyful war; caused the strong to fly, and the valorous men to shut themselves up in a cloister, and in places of safety. Not in arms, but in the grace of Christianity, that is in the Church, remained the only refuge for those who were excommunicated; after deserting their horses [40] this counsel alone occurred to the vanquished. And her whom previously they had not hesitated to profane, her whom they ought to have honoured in the place of a mother—in her they seek refuge, though little worthy of it, and seek their defence in embracing the wood of salvation. Those whom prosperity caused to despise their mother, their wounds compelled to know their mother. When at Northampton they succeeded by treachery, the faithless children despised the church; with the sword they disturbed the bowels of the holy mother, and in their prosperity [50] did not merit a successful war. The mother then bore the injury patiently, as though heedless of it, but not letting it pass unmarked: she punishes this and other injuries which were afterwards added, for the madmen ravaged many churches; and the band of enraged men, which has now been thrown into confusion, mercilessly spoiled the monastry which is called Battle, of its goods, and thus they prepared a battle for themselves. The Cistercian monks of Robertsbridge [60] would not have been safe from the fury of the sword, unless they had given five hundred marks to the prince, which Edward ordered to be received, or they had perished. By these, and similar deeds, they merited to give way and succumb before their enemies. May the Lord bless Simon de Montfort! and also his sons and his army! who, exposing themselves magnanimously to death, fought valiantly, condoling the lamentable lot of the English who, trodden under foot in a manner scarcely to be described, [70] and almost deprived of all their liberties, nay, of their lives, had languished under hard rulers, like the people of Israel under Pharaoh, groaning under a tyrannical devastation. But God, seeing this suffering of the people, gives at last a new Matathias, and he with his sons, zealous after the zeal of the law, yields neither to the insults nor to the fury of the king.

They call Simon a seductor and a traitor; [80] but his deeds lay him open and prove him to be a true man. Traitors fall off in time of need; they who do not fly death, are those who stand for the truth. But says his insidious enemy now, whose evil eye is the disturber of peace, “If you praise the constancy and the fidelity, which does not fly the approach of death or punishment, they shall equally be called constant who, in the same manner, go to the combat fighting on the opposite side, in the same manner exposing themselves to the chance of war, [90] and subjecting themselves to a hard appellation.” But in our war in which we are now engaged, let us see what is the state of the case.

The earl had few men used to arms; the royal party was numerous, having assembled the disciplined and greatest warriors in England, such as were called the flower of the army of the kingdom; those who were prepared with arms from among the Londoners, were three hundred set before several thousands; whence they were contemptible to those, [100] and were detested by those who were experienced. Much of the earl’s army was raw; fresh in arms, they knew little of war. The tender youth, only now girt with a sword, stands in the morning in battle accustoming himself to arms; what wonder if such an unpractised tyro fear, and if the powerless lamb dread the wolf? Thus those who fight for England are inferior in military discipline, and they are much fewer than the strong men, who boasted in their own valour, [110] because they thought safely, and without danger, to swallow up, as it were, all whom the earl had to help him. Moreover, of those whom the earl had brought to the battle, and from whom he hoped for no little help, many soon withdrew from fear, and took to flight as though they were amazed; and of three parts, one deserted. The earl with a few faithful men never yielded. We may compare our battle with that of Gideon; [120] in both of which we see a few of the faithful conquer a great number who have no faith, and who trust in themselves like Lucifer did. God said, “If I should give the victory to the many, the fools will not give the glory to me, but to fools.” So if God had made the strong to conquer, the common people would have given the credit of it to the men, and not to God.

From these considerations it may be concluded that the warlike men did not fear God, wherefore they did nothing to prove their constancy or fidelity, [130] but they showed on the contrary their pride and cruelty; and wishing to confound those whom they despised, issuing forth boldly, they perished quickly. Exaltation of the heart brings on ruin, and humility merits to receive the divine grace; for he who does not trust in God, God overthrows his pride. We may bring forward as examples Aman and Mardocheus; we read that the former was arrogant, the latter a true Israelite; the gallows which Aman had prepared for Mardocheus, [140] in the morning the wretch bore it himself in order to be hanged upon it. The queen’s banquet blinded Aman, which he reputed as an extraordinary privilege; but his vain expectation is turned into confusion, when after the feast he is dragged to the gallows. Thus sorrow followed close upon joy, when it coupled death with the end of the feast. Very differently, it happens, to the Israelite, whom, by God’s will, the king honours. Golias is overthrown by the stroke of a little stone; [150] nothing profits him whom God pursues. Add to the various reasons already mentioned, that the stinking bawds collected with them so many strumpets, amounting to seven hundred, which they ought to have known to be fraudulent persons, disciples of Satan to deceive men’s souls, and matches to set them on fire, treacherous scissars to cut the hairs of Samson, inflicting the stains of base action on the wretches who are not strong in heart, [160] nor made firm by the grace of the divine gift, but animals dedicated to the lust of the flesh, by the uncleanness of which, reduced to the level of brutes, they ought not to be worthy of victory, who grovelled in the foul luxury of the flesh; they diminish their strength in the stews which they had made, therefore they were unworthy of the attributes of knights. A knight is girt on the thigh with a sword, that it may not be ungirt, and that vile deeds should be eschewed; the body of a new knight is accustomed to be bathed, [170] in order that he may learn to be clean from unlawful deeds. They who had newly married lawful wives, were not fit for the Lord’s warfare, as the battle of Gideon witnesseth, much less those whom the furnace of luxury hath injured with its fire. Why then should God help adulterers, and not rather strengthen clean children? Let them be clean who desire to conquer in fighting; they who vanquish their faults are in the way to triumph; first let them conquer their vices, [180] who wish with justice to have the victory over sinners. If the just man seems sometimes to be vanquished by the impious man, on the contrary he should be reputed the conqueror; for neither can the just man be vanquished, nor the unjust man conquer while he is the enemy of the law.

Listen to the equity of Earl Simon: when the royal party would be satisfied only with his head and his life, nor would allow his head to be redeemed, but would have it cut off, by whose confusion they hoped the body of the people should be confounded, [190] and the greatest part of the state brought into danger, so that the most grievous ruin would immediately follow;—may it be very long before this happen!—Stephen, by divine grace, bishop of Chichester, groaning deeply for the immense evils which were then impending, (without exaggeration,) the two parties being persuaded to treat of a peace, received this answer from the Earl: “Choose the best men, who have a lively faith, [200] who have read the decretals, or who have taught, in a becoming manner, theology and sacred wisdom, and who know how to rule the Christian faith, whatever they may resolve by sound doctrine, or whatever they may have the courage to decree, they shall find us ready to agree to what they shall dictate, in such a manner as that we may escape the stigma of perjury, and keep the league as children of God.” Hence it may easily be understood by those who swear, and show little reluctance to despise what they swear, receding quickly from it although they swear to what is right, [210] and not rendering whole what they have promised to God, with how much care they ought to keep their oath, when they see a man neither avoiding torment nor death on account of his oath, which was made not inconsiderately, but for the reformation of the fallen state of the English nation, which the fraud of an inveterate enemy had violated. Behold Simon, obedient, despises the loss of property, submitting himself to punishment, rather than desert the truth, proclaiming to all men openly by his deeds more than by his words, [220] that truth has nothing in common with falsehood. Woe to the perjured wretches who fear not God! denying him for the prospect of an earthly reward, or for fear of imprisonment or light punishment; the new leader of the journey teaches to bear all that the world may inflict on account of truth, for it is this which can give perfect liberty. For the Earl had first pledged his oath that whatever the zeal of the wise had provided for the reformation of the King’s honour, [230] and for the repression of wandering error, at Oxford, he would steadfastly keep it, and would not change the law then ordained, knowing that such canonical constitutions, and such catholic ordinances for the pacific conservation of the kingdom, on account of which he had before sustained no slight persecution, were not to be despised; and because he had sworn to hold them firmly, unless the most perfect doctors of the faith should say, [240] that the jurators might be absolved, who had before taken such oath, and that no further account was to be made of what they had sworn. Which, when the said bishop recited to the king, and perhaps the artificer of fraud was standing by, the voice of the crowd of arrogant courtiers was raised high, “See now the soldier is to give way to the sayings of clerks! The military order subjected to clerks is debased!” Thus the wisdom of the Earl was despised; and Edward is said to have answered thus: [250] “They shall have no peace unless they all put halters about their necks, and deliver themselves up to us to be hanged, or to be drawn.” What wonder if the Earl’s heart was then moved, when nothing but the pain of the stake was prepared for him? He offered what he ought to do, but he was not listened to; the king rejected measure, forgetting what was good for him. But, as the event of the matter next day taught him, the measure which he then refused, afterwards was not to be had. In the evening was derided the Earl’s devotion, [260] the shock of which, next day, was found to be victorious. This stone, long rejected from the doorway, was afterwards fitted to the two walls. The division of England was on the verge of desolation, but the corner-stone was there as a help to the division, the truly singular religion of Simon. The faith and fidelity of Simon alone becomes the security of the peace of all England; he humbles the rebellious, raises those who were in despair, [270] reconciling the kingdom, repressing the proud. And how does he repress them? certainly not by praising them; but he presses out the red juice in the hard conflict; for truth obliges him to fight, or to desert the truth, and prudently he chooses rather to devote his right hand to the truth, and by the rough way, which is joined to probity, by the harder and shorter way which is unpleasant to the proud, to obtain the reward which is given to those who use force, than to displease God by shrinking, [280] and to promote the designs of bad men by flight. For some men had studied to erase the name of the English, whom they had already begun to regard with hatred, against whom God opposed a medicine, since he did not desire their sudden ruin.

Hence let the English learn to call in strangers, if they wish to be exiled by strangers. For these when they wish to enlarge their own glory, and wish their own memory to stand always, study to associate with themselves very many of their own nation, [290] and by degrees to make them the principal nobles; and thus grows the confusion of the natives, with indignation and bitterness of heart, when the chief men of the kingdom feel themselves to be beaten down by those who make themselves their equals, taking from them the things which ought to appertain to them, growing by the things by which they used to grow. The King ought to honour with escheats and wards his own people, who can help him in various ways, who, by as much as they are more powerful by their own strength, [300] are so much the more secure in all cases. But those who have brought nothing, if they are enriched by his goods, if they are made great who were of no account, such men, when they begin to grow, always go on climbing till they have supplanted the natives; they study to avert the prince’s heart from his own people, that they may strip of glory those whose ruin they are seeking. And who could bear such things patiently? Therefore let England learn prudently to have a care, lest such a perplexity should happen any more, [310] lest such an adversity should fall upon the English. The Earl studied to obviate this, because it had gained too much head, like a great sea, that could not be dried by a small effort, but must be forded by a great assistance from God. Let strangers come to return quickly, like men of a moment, but not to remain. One of the two hands aids the other, neither of them bearing more really the grace which belongs to both; let it help, and not injure, by retaining its place. [320] Each thing would avail its own possessor if they come so; the Frenchman by doing good to the Englishman, and not seducing by a flattering face, nor the one withdrawing the goods of the other; but rather by sustaining his own portion of the burden. If his own interest had moved the Earl, he would neither have had any other zeal, nor would he have sought with all his power for the reformation of the kingdom, but he would have aimed at power, he would have sought his own promotion only, and made his first object the promotion of his friends, [330] and would have aimed at enriching his children, and would have neglected the weal of the community, and would have covered the poison of falsehood with the cloak of duplicity, and would thus have deserted the faith of Christianity, and would have subjected himself to the retribution of fearful punishment, nor would he have escaped the weight of the tempest, And who can believe that he would give himself to death, that he would sacrifice his friends, in order that he might thus raise himself high? If those who hunt after honour cover their object cunningly; [340] always meditating at the same time how they may avoid death; none love more the present life, none choose more eagerly a position devoid of danger. They who thirst after honours dissimulate their aim, they make themselves cautiously the reputation which they seek. Not so the venerable Simon de Montfort, who, like Christ, offers himself a sacrifice for many; Isaac does not die, although he is ready for death; it is the ram which is given to death, and Isaac receives honour. Neither fraud nor falsehood promoted the Earl, [350] but the Divine grace which knew those whom it would help. If you consider the time and the place of the conflict, you will find that they promised him a defeat rather than victory; but God provided that he should not succumb. He does not take them on a sudden by creeping stealthily by night; but he fights openly when day is come. So also the place was favourable to his enemies, that thus it might appear plainly to all to be the gift of God, that victory departed from him who put his trust in himself. [360] Hence let the military order, which praises the practice of the tournament, that so it may be made expert at fighting, learn how the party of the strong and skilful was here bruised by the arms of those who were feeble and unpractised: that he may confound the strong, God promotes the weak, comforts the feeble, lays prostrate the firm. Thus let no one now presume to trust in himself; but if he know how to place his hope in God, he may take up arms with constancy, nothing doubting, [370] since God is a help for those who are on the side of justice. Thus it was right that God should help the Earl, for without God he could not overcome the enemy. Of whom should I call him the enemy?—of the Earl alone? or should I recognise him as the enemy of the English and of the whole kingdom?—perhaps also of the Church, and therefore of God? And if so, how much grace ought he to have? He failed to deserve grace who trusted in himself, and he did not merit to be helped who did not fear God. Thus falls the boast of personal valour, [380] and so for evermore praised be the Lord God of vengeance! who gives aid to those who are destitute of force, to a few against many, crushing fools by the valour of the faithful; who sits on a throne in heaven above, and by his own strength treads upon the necks of the proud, bowing the great under the feet of the less. He has subdued two kings and the heirs of kings, whom he has made captives, because they were transgressors of the laws; and he has turned to shame the pomp of knighthood with its numerous retinue; [390] for the barons employed on the sons of pride the arms, which, in their zeal for justice, they had taken up in the cause of the kingdom, until victory was given them from heaven, with a great glory that was not expected. For the bow of the strong was then overcome, and the troop of the weak was established with strength; and we have said that it was done by heaven, lest any one should boast of it; let all the honour, on the contrary, be given to Christ, in whom we believe! For Christ at once commands, conquers, reigns! [400] Christ delivers his own, to whom he has given his promise. We pray God to grant that the minds of the conquerors may not attribute their success to themselves, and let what Paul says be observed by them, “He who would be joyful, let him be joyful in God.” If any one of us indulge in vain glory, may God be indulgent to him, and not angry! and may he make our party cautious in future; lest deeds be wanting, may they make themselves a wall! May the power of the Almighty perfect what it has begun, [410] and restore to its vigour the kingdom of the English people! that glory may be to himself, and peace to his elect, until they be in the country where he shall lead them. O Englishmen! read this concerning the battle of Lewes! by the influence of which you are saved from destruction: for if victory had gone over to those who are now vanquished, the memory of the English would have lain in disgrace.

To whom shall the noble Edward be compared? Perhaps he will be rightly called a leopard. If we divide the name, it becomes a lion and a pard:—[420] a lion, for we have seen that he was not slow to meet the strongest; fearing the attack of none; making a charge in the thick of the battle with the most unflinching bravery, and as though at his will, and wherever he went, as if, like Alexander, he would soon subdue the whole world, if the mutable wheel of Fortune would but stand still; in which, although he stand at the top, let him know that his fall is near at hand, and that he who reigns like a lord will not reign long. Which, in fact, has happened to the noble Edward, [430] who has manifestly fallen from his unstable position. He is a lion by his pride and by his ferocity; by his inconstancy and changeableness he is a pard, not holding steadily his word or his promise, and excusing himself with fair words. When he is in a difficulty, he promises just what you will; but as soon as he has escaped the danger, he forgets his promise. Witness Gloucester, where, as soon as he was out of the difficulty, he revoked immediately what he had sworn. The treachery or falseness by which he gains his ends [440] he calls prudence; the way by which he arrives at his object, be it ever so crooked, is reputed to be straight; when wrong serves his purpose, it is called right; he calls lawful whatever he wills, and thinks himself absolved from the law, as though he were greater than a king: for every king is ruled by the laws which he enacts. King Saul was deposed, because he brake the laws; and we read that David was punished, as soon as he did contrary to the law; hence, therefore, let him who reads know, that he cannot reign who does not keep the law; [450] nor ought they, whose province it is to do so, to elect such a man for their king. O Edward! thou desirest to be made a king without law; they would be truly miserable who were ruled by such a king! For what is more just than law, by which all things are ruled? and what more true than justice, by which all things are administered? If thou wouldest have a kingdom, reverence the laws; they are but rough roads, which are opposed to law, rough and crooked roads which will not lead thee to thy journey’s end; but if thou keepest the laws, they shine like a lamp. Therefore avoid and detest treachery; [460] labour after truth and hate falsehood. Although treachery may flourish, it cannot bear fruit; the Psalm may teach thee this; God says to the faithful of the earth, “They are my eyes, and it is my will that they shall sit with me at the end of time.” Observe how little thou hast gained by thy treachery at Northampton; the heat of deceit does not warm like fire. If you will compare treachery to fire, feed studiously such fire with straw, which ceases to glow as soon as it is burnt up, [470] and is consumed almost as soon as kindled. So passeth away vanity which hath no roots; rooted truth is not subject to vicissitudes: therefore let that alone be permitted thee which is lawful, and let not what the double man shall say please thee. A prince shall project things which are worthy of a prince: therefore take the law under thy protection, which will make thee worthy to govern many, worthy of the principality, of the aid of many, and of a numerous retinue. And why lovest thou not those of whom thou desirest to be king? [480] Thou choosest not to profit them, but only to govern. He who seeks only his own glory, everything that he governs is ruined by his pride. Thus recently the whole which thou governest has been ruined; the glory which alone thou soughtest is past.

Lo! we are touching the root of the perturbation of the kingdom of which we are speaking, and of the dissension of the parties who fought the said battle. The objects at which these two parties aimed were different. The king, with his, wished thus to be free: [490] and so [it was urged on his side] he ought to be; and he must cease to be king, deprived of the rights of a king, unless he could do whatever he pleased; it was no part of the duty of the magnates of the kingdom to determine whom he should prefer to his earldoms, or on whom he should confer the custody of castles, or whom he would have to administer justice to the people, and to be chancellor and treasurer of the kingdom. He would have every one at his own will, and counsellors from whatever nation he chose, [500] and all ministers at his own discretion; while the barons of England are not to interfere with the king’s actions, the command of the prince having the force of law, and what he may dictate binding upon every body at his pleasure. For every earl also is thus his own master, giving to every one of his own men both as much as he will, and to whom he will; he commits castles, lands, revenues, to whom he will; and although he be a subject, the king permits it all. Which, if he do well, is profitable to the doer; [510] if not, he must himself see to it; the king will not hinder him from injuring himself. Why is the prince worse in condition, when the affairs of the baron, the knight, and the freeman, are thus managed? Therefore they aim at making the king a slave, who wish to diminish his power, to take away his dignity of prince; they wish by sedition to reduce captive into guardianship and subjection the royal power, and to disinherit the king, [520] that he shall be unable to reign so fully as hitherto have done the kings who preceded him, who were in no respect subjected to their people, but administered their own affairs at their will, and conferred what they had to confer according to their own pleasure. This is the King’s argument, which has an appearance of fairness, and this is alleged in defence of the right of the kingdom.

But now let my pen turn to the other side:—let me describe the object at which the barons aim; and when both sides have been heard, let the arguments be compared, [530] and then let us come to a final judgment, so that it may be clear which side is the truest. The people is more prone to obey the truer party. Let therefore the party of the barons speak for itself, and proclaim in order by what zeal it is led. Which party in the first place protests openly, that it has no designs against the kingly honour; nay, it seeks the contrary, and studies to reform and magnify the kingly condition; just as if the kingdom were ravaged by enemies, [540] then it would not be reformed without the barons, who would be the capable and proper persons for this purpose; and should any one then hang back, the law would punish him as one guilty of perjury, a traitor to the king, who owes to his lord, when he is in danger, all the aid he can give to support the king’s honour, when the kingdom is as it were nigh its end by devastation.

The adversaries of the king are enemies who make war upon him, and counsellors who flatter the king, who seduce their prince with deceitful words, [550] and who lead him into error by their double tongues: these are adversaries worse than those who are perverse; it is these who pretend to be good whilst they are seducers, and procurers of their own advancement; they deceive the incautious, whom they render less on their guard by means of things that please them, whereby they are not provided against, but are considered as prudent advisers. Such men can deceive more than those who act openly, as they are able to make an outward appearance of being not hostile. What if such wretches, and such liars, [560] should haunt the prince, capable of all malice, of fraud, of falsehood, excited by the spurs of envy, should seek to do that extreme wickedness, by which they should sacrifice the privileges of the kingdom to their own ostentation, that they should contrive all kinds of hard reasons, which by degrees should confound the commonalty, should bruise and impoverish the mass of the people, and should subvert and infatuate the kingdom, so that no one could obtain justice, [570] except he who would encourage the pride of such men as these by large supplies of money; who could submit to the establishment of such an injury? And if such, by their conduct, should change the state of the kingdom; if they should banish justice to put injustice in its place; if they should call in strangers and trample upon the natives; and if they should subdue the kingdom to foreigners; if they should not care for the magnates and nobles of the land, and should place contemptible persons over them; and if they should overthrow and humiliate the great; [580] if they should pervert and turn upside-down the order of things; if they should leave the measures that are best, to advance those which are worst;—do not those who act thus devastate the kingdom? although they do not make war upon it with arms from abroad, yet they fight with diabolical arms, and they violate, in a lamentable manner, the constitution of the kingdom; although not in the same manner [as a foreign enemy], yet they do no less damage. Whether the king, seduced to give his consent, not perceiving the design, should approve measures so destructive to the kingdom; [590] or whether the king should follow such an injurious course with an ill design of setting his own power above the laws, abusing his strength to please his own will; if thus or otherwise the kingdom be wasted, or the kingdom be finally left destitute, then the magnates of the kingdom are bound to look to it, that the land be purged of all errors. To whom if such a purgation of errors belongs, if such a provision belongs to them to regulate customs, how can it otherwise than appertain to them [600] to look out that no evil may happen which would be injurious? Which, after it has happened, they ought to remove, lest by a sudden occurrence it give those who do not provide against it cause to grieve. Thus, in order that no one of the aforesaid things may happen, which may hinder the form of peace and good customs, but that the zeal of the experienced men may find what is most expedient for the utility of the many, why is a reform not admitted, with which no corruption shall be mixed? For the king’s clemency and the king’s majesty [610] ought to approve the endeavours, which so amend grievous laws that they be milder, and that they be, while less onerous, more pleasing to God. For the oppression of the commons pleaseth not God, but rather the commiseration whereby the commons may have time to think upon God. Pharaoh, who so afflicted the people of God, that they could with difficulty repair to the oracle which he had appointed to Moses, was afterwards so punished, that he was obliged to dismiss Israel against his will; and when he thought to catch them after they were dismissed, [620] he was drowned whilst he thought to run through the deep. Solomon was unwilling to bruise Israel, nor would he reduce to servitude any one of the race; because he knew that it was God’s people over whom he reigned; and he feared to hurt the imprint of God; and he praises mercy more than judgment, and the peace of a true father more than execution.

Since it is clear that the barons have a right of doing all this, it remains to answer the king’s arguments. The king wishes to be free by the removal of his guardians, [630] and he will not be subject to his inferiors, but be placed over them; he will command his subjects and not be commanded; he will be humiliated neither to himself nor to those who are his officers. For the officers are not set over the king; but on the contrary they are rather the noble men who support the law. Otherwise there would not be one king of one state, (?) but they would reign equally to whom the king was subject. Yet this inconvenience also, though it seem so great, with the assistance of God, is easily solved: for we believe that God wills truth, [640] through whom we dissolve this doubt as follows. He is said to be, and is in truth, one king alone, by whom the universe is ruled in pure majesty; who neither wants help whereby he may reign, nor even counsel, in as much as he cannot err. Therefore, all-powerful and all-knowing, he excels in infinite glory all those to whom he has given to rule and, as it were, to reign under him over his people, who may fail, and who may err, and who cannot avail by their own independent strength, [650] and vanquish their enemies by their own valour, nor govern kingdoms by their own wisdom, but in an evil manner wander in the track of error. They want help which should assist them, and counsel which should set them right. Says the king, “I agree to thy reasoning; but the choice of these must be left to my option; I will associate with myself whom I will, by whose support I will govern all things; and if my ministers should be insufficient, [660] if they want sense or power, or if they harbour evil designs, or are not faithful, but are perhaps traitors, I desire that you will explain, why I ought to be confined to certain persons, when I might succeed in obtaining better assistance?” The reason of this is quickly declared, if it be considered what the constraint of the king is: all constraint does not deprive of liberty, nor does every restriction take away power. Princes desire free power; [670] those who reign decline miserable servitude. To what will a free law bind kings?—to prevent them from being stained by an adulterated law. And this constraint is not one of slavery, but is rather an enlarging of the kingly faculty. Thus the king’s child is kept from being hurt; yet he is not made a slave when he is thus restricted. Nay, the very angels are restricted in this manner, who are confirmed from becoming apostates. For, that the Author of all things cannot err, [680] that He who is the beginning of all things cannot sin, is not impotence, but it is the highest degree of power, the great glory of God and his great majesty. Thus, he who may fall, if he be kept from falling, so that he may live free from danger, he reaps advantage from such keeping, nor is such a support slavery, but it is the safeguard of virtue. Therefore that there be permitted to a king all that is good, but that he dare not do evil,—this is God’s gift. They who keep the king from sinning when he is tempted, [690] they serve the king, to whom he should be grateful, that they deliver him from being made a slave; so that those by whom he is led do not overcome him. But he who should be in truth a king, he is truly free if he rule rightly himself and the kingdom; let him know that all things are permitted him which are in ruling convenient to the kingdom, but not such as destroy it. It is one thing to rule according to a king’s duty, and another to destroy by resisting the law. The law receives its name from binding (a ligando), [700] which is so perfectly said of liberty, whereby it is served gratefully. (?)

Let every king bear in mind that he is a servant of God; let him love that only which is pleasing to Him; and let him seek His glory in reigning, not his own pride in despising his peers. A king who wishes his subject kingdom to yield obedience to him, let him render his duty to God in other things truly; let him know that obedience is not owing to him who denies the service in which he is bound to God. Again, let him know that the people is not his but God’s; [710] and that it is profitable to him as his help: and that he who for a short period is placed over the people, soon, closed in marble, will be buried in the earth. Towards them let him make himself as one of them; let him regard David joining the dance of the maids. I wish one similar to David may succeed the king—a prudent and humble man, who would not injure his people; in truth, who would not hurt the people which is subjected to him, but would exhibit towards them a loving regard, and would aim at their prosperity; [720] the commons would not allow him to suffer wrong. It is hard to love one who does not love us; it is hard not to despise one who despises us; it is hard not to resist one who ruins us; we naturally applaud him who favours us. It is not the part of a prince to bruise, but to protect; neither is it the part of a prince to oppress, but rather to deserve the favour of his people by numerous benefits conferred upon them, as Christ by his grace has deserved the love of all. If a prince love his subjects, he will necessarily be repaid with love; [730] if he reign justly, he will of a necessity be honoured; if the prince err, he ought to be recalled by those whom his unjust denial may have grieved, unless he be willing to be corrected; if he is willing to make amends, he ought to be both raised up and aided by these same persons. Let a prince maintain such a rule of reigning, that it may never be necessary for him to avoid depending on his own people. The ignorant princes who confound their subjects, will find that those who are unconquered will not thus be tamed. If a prince should think [740] that he alone has more truth, more knowledge, and more intelligence than the whole people, that he abounds more in grace and the gifts of God, if it be not presumption, but it be truly so, then his instruction will visit the true hearts of his subjects with light, and will instruct his people with moderation.

We instance Moses, David, Samuel—each of whom we know to have been a faithful prince; who suffered many things from their subjects, [750] and yet for their deserts they did not cast them off, nor set strangers over them, but governed by means of those who were their own people. “I will place thee over a greater people; and I will slay this people” saith God. “I had rather die, than this people should perish,” answered kind Moses, who was worthy to govern. And thus a wise prince will never reject his people, but an unwise one will disturb the kingdom. Wherefore, if a king is less wise than he ought to be, [760] what advantage will the kingdom gain by his reign? Is he to seek by his own opinion on whom he should depend to have his failing supplied? If he alone choose, he will be easily deceived, who is not capable of knowing who will be useful. Therefore let the community of the kingdom advise; and let it be known what the generality thinks, to whom their own laws are best known. Nor are all those of the country so uninstructed, as not to know better than strangers the customs of their own kingdom, [770] which have been bequeathed from father to son. They who are ruled by the laws, know those laws best; they who experience them are best acquainted with them; and since it is their own affairs which are at stake, they will take more care, and will act with an eye to their own peace. They who want experience can know little; they will profit little the kingdom who are not stedfast. Hence it may be collected, that it concerns the community to see what sort of men ought justly to be chosen for the utility of the kingdom; they who are willing and know how, [780] and are able to profit it, such should be made the councillors and coadjutors of the king; to whom are known the various customs of their country; who feel that they suffer themselves when the kingdom suffers; and who guard the kingdom, lest, if hurt be done to the whole, the parts have reason to grieve while they suffer along with it; which rejoice, when it has cause to rejoice, if they love it. Let us call attention to the noble judgment of King Solomon: she who did not feel horror at the cruelty of dividing the infant, [790] because she did not feel for it, and wanted maternal love, shewed, as the king testified, that she was not its mother: therefore let a prince seek such [councillors] as may condole with the community, who have a motherly fear lest the kingdom should undergo any sufferings. But if any one be not moved by the ruin of the many—if he alone obtain what pleas he will—he is not fitted to rule over the many, since he is entirely devoted to his own interest, and to none other. A man who feels for others, is agreeable to the community; [800] but a man who does not feel for others, who possesses a hard heart, cares not if misfortunes fall upon the many—such walls are no defence against misfortunes. Therefore, if the king has not wisdom to choose by himself those who are capable of advising him, it is clear, from what has been said, what ought then to be done. For it is a thing which concerns the community to see that miserable wretches be not made the leaders of the royal dignity, but the best and chosen men, and the most approved that can be found. For since the governance of the kingdom is either the safety or perdition of all, [810] it is of great consequence who they are that have the custody of the kingdom; just as it is in a ship; all things are thrown into confusion if unskilful people guide it; if any one of the passengers belonging to it who is placed in the ship abuse the rudder, it matters not whether the ship be governed prosperously or not. So those who ought to rule the kingdom, let the care be given to them, if any one of the kingdom does not govern himself rightly; he goes on a wrong path which perhaps he has himself chosen. The affairs of the generality are best managed [820] if the kingdom is directed in the way of truth. And, moreover, if the subjects labour to dissipate their property, those who are set over them may restrain their folly and temerity, lest by the presumption and imbecility of fools, the power of the kingdom be weakened, and courage be given to enemies against the kingdom. For whatever member of the body be destroyed, the strength of the body is diminished thereby. So if it be allowed even that men may abuse what belongs to themselves, [830] when it be injurious to the kingdom, many immediately after following also the injurious liberty, will so multiply the wildness of error, that they will ruin the whole. Nor ought it properly to be named liberty, which permits fools to govern unwisely; but liberty is limited by the bounds of the law; and when those bounds are despised, it should be reputed as error. Otherwise you will call a raving madman free, although he be at enmity with everything like prosperity. Therefore the king’s argument concerning his subjects, [840] who are ruled at their own choice by whom they will, is by this sufficiently answered and overthrown; since every one who is subject, is ruled by one who is greater. Because we say that no man is permitted all that he will, but that every one has a lord who may correct him when erring, and aid him when doing well, and sometimes raises him up when he is falling. We give the first place to the community: we say also that the law rules over the king’s dignity; for we believe that the law is the light, [850] without which we conclude that he who rules will wander from the right path. The law whereby is ruled the world and the kingdoms of the world, is described as being of fire; which contains a mystery of deep meaning: it shines, burns, warms; shining, it hinders the wanderer from quitting his right path; it avails against the cold; it purges and burns to cinders some things; it softens what is hard, and what had been raw the fire cooks; it takes away numbness, and it does many other good things. The sacred law is equally serviceable to the king. Solomon asked for this wisdom; [860] its friendship he sought with all his might. If the king want this law, he will wander from the right track; if he does not hold it, he will err foully; its presence gives the power of reigning rightly, and its absence overturns the kingdom. This law speaks thus, “Kings reign through me; through me justice is shown to those who make laws.” No king shall alter this firm law; but by it he shall make himself stable when he is variable. If he conform to this law, he will stand; [870] and if he disagree with it, he will waver. It is said commonly, “As the king wills, so goes the law:” but the truth is otherwise, for the law stands, but the king falls. Truth and charity and the zeal of salvation, this is the integrity of the law, the regimen of virtue; truth, light, charity, warmth, zeal burns; (?) this variety of the law takes away all crime. Whatever the king may ordain, let it be consonant to these; for if it be otherwise, the commonalty will be made sorrowful; the people will be confounded, if either the king’s eye want truth, [880] or the prince’s heart want charity, or he do not always moderately fulfil his zeal with severity.

These three things being supposed, whatever pleases the king may be done; but by their opposites the king resists the law. However, kicking against it does not hurt the prick; thus the instruction which was sent from heaven to Paul teaches us. Thus the king is deprived of no inherited right, if there be made a provision in concordance with just law. For dissimulation shall not change the law, [890] whose stable reason will stand without end. Wherefore if anything that is useful has been long put off, it is not to be reprehended when adopted late. And let the king never set his private interest before that of the community; as if the salvation of all yields to him alone. For he is not set over them in order to live for himself; but that his people who is subject to him may be in safety. You must know that the name of king is relative; you should know also that the name is protective; wherefore he cannot live for himself alone [900] who ought by his life to protect many. He who will live for himself, ought not to be set over others, but to live separately from them that he may be alone. It is the glory of a prince to save very many; to inconvenience himself in order to raise many up. Let him not therefore allege his own profit, but have regard to his subjects in whom he is trusted. (?) If he work the salvation of the kingdom, he acts the part of a king; whatever he does contrary to this, he fails in that point. The true province of a king is sufficiently clear from these arguments; [910] that he is ignorant of the condition of a king who is occupied only with his own affairs. For true charity is as it were contrary to self-interest, and an indissoluble league to the community, melting like fire everything that is near, as is done with wood which they subject to the active fire to increase it, and then in return it is taken away to decrease it. Therefore if the prince will be warm with charity as much as possible towards the community, if he shall be solicitous to govern it well, [920] and shall never be rejoiced at its destruction; wherefore if the king will love the magnates of the kingdom, although he should know alone, like a great prophet, whatever is needful for the ruling of the kingdom, whatever is becoming in him, whatever ought to be done, truly he will not conceal what he will decree from those without whom he cannot effect that which he will ordain. He will therefore treat with his people about bringing into effect the things which he will not think of doing by himself. Why will he not communicate his councils [930] to those whose aid he will ask supplicatingly? Whatever draws his people to benignity, and makes friends and cherishes unity, it is fit the royal prudence should indicate it to those who can augment his glory. Our Lord laid open all things to his disciples, dividing from the servants those whom he made his friends; and as though he were ignorant, he often inquired of his people what was their opinion on matters which he knew perfectly. Oh! if princes sought the honour of God, [940] they would rule their kingdoms rightly, and without error. If princes had the knowledge of God, they would exhibit their justice to all. Ignorant of the Lord, as though they were blind, they seek the praises of men, delighted only with vanity. He who does not know how to rule himself, will be a bad ruler over others; if any one will look at the Psalms, he will read the same. Joseph as he ought to teach princes, (?) on which account the king willed that he should be set over others. And David in the innocence of his heart [950] and by his intelligence fed Israel. From all that has been said, it may appear evident, that it becomes a king to see together with his nobles what things are convenient for the government of the kingdom, and what are expedient for the preservation of peace; and that the king have natives for his companions, not foreigners, nor favourites, for his councillors or for the great nobles of the kingdom, who supplant others and abolish good customs. For such discord is a step-mother to peace, [960] and produces battles, and plots treason. For as the envy of the devil introduced death, so hatred separates the troop. The king shall hold the natives in their rank, and by this governance he will have joy in reigning. But if he study to degrade his own people, if he pervert their rank, it is in vain for him to ask why thus deranged they do not obey him; in fact they would be fools if they did.

Translation.—Lament with weeping, O England, full as thou now art with matter of grief, in sadness thou beholdest sorrowful things, languishing in sorrow; unless Christ in his manner have regard to thee, thou wilt be but a vile song in the mouth of thine enemies.—Very many have pledged themselves to preserve thee in safety, but now they have too much neglected their promise: for many desert, who have it in their power to help; and some slink away over the sea.—Hence the rest begin to quarrel, and to go over to different sides; while things which disagree in this manner will not be reconciled, and what has been begun is left unfinished.—Thus the state is ruined, and the land is laid waste; the stranger is strengthened and raised up; the native is debased and trodden under foot: while he sustains injuries, there is no one who will speak out.—The knight as well as the clergy are both become mute; the strangers are become talkative and cunning: among a hundred Englishmen there are not two who are safe; the lot which they have obtained is lamentation and disgrace.—O Earl of Gloucester, complete what thou hast commenced; unless thou endest as thou hast begun, thou hast deceived many. Act now courageously as thou hast promised, cherish steadily the cause of which thou wast the fountain.—If, from which God preserve us! thou withdrawest thy hand and support, acting treacherously towards the land, and inflicting a great injury upon it.... May he be cursed for ever! be it so! be it so! amen.—Earl Simon de Montfort, a strong man and a bold, fight now for thy country, and be the leader of the band; neither let threats scare thee, nor the fear of death; defend the state and thy own fortune.—O thou, Earl Bigot, keep unbroken thine agreement: as thou art a brave knight, now use thy hand; a small troop of dogs puts in commotion the whole land: may such a cursed race depart or perish!—O you, great nobles, who bound yourselves to observe firmly the oath which you took; if what you imagined be profitable to the land, let that which you have ordained aid it immediately.—If you will carry to an end that which you have begun, you may obtain that which you desired; unless the thing which you have long had in hand be perfected, it may be truly said that you have laboured in vain.—It will be the highest honour to you and a worthy praise, if England answer by carrying your standards; which that he may soon deliver from the malignant plague, may the benignant piety of the Lord now help it!

Translation.—I am driven to sing, my heart wills it, in sorrowful language,—all with tears was made the song concerning our gentle barons,—who for the peace so long after suffered themselves to be destroyed,—their bodies to be cut and dismembered, to save England.—Now is slain the precious flower, who knew so much of war, the Earl Montfort, his hard death the land will deeply lament.

As I believe, it was on a Tuesday, that they fought the battle,—all on horse, which was the misfortune, without any foot,—very ill they there struck with the burnished sword,—that the party of Sir Edward gained the mastery. Now is slain, etc.

But by his death the Earl Montfort gained the victory,—like the martyr of Canterbury he finished his life;—the good Thomas would not suffer holy Church to perish,—the Earl fought in a similar cause, and died without flinching.—Now is slain, &c.

Sir Hugh the bold, the Despencer, a very noble justice,—is now wrongfully delivered to death, in too shameful a manner.—Sir Henry, in truth I say it, the son of the Earl of Leicester,—enough of others, as you will hear, by the Earl of Gloucester.—Now is slain, etc.

Because they were willing to die, and to maintain peace and right,—the holy martyr will cause them to enjoy his pure conscience,—who is willing to die and to sustain the men of the land,—to accomplish his good desire, for we think he does well.—Now is, etc.

Near his body, the good treasure, an heir they found,—the false ribalds, they were so wicked, and those who slew him;—what was much worse, they caused the worthy man to be dismembered,—who knew so well the art of fighting and of holding faith.—Now is, etc.

Pray all, my sweet friends, to the Son of St. Mary,—that he lead in good life the infant, the powerful heir;—I will not name the scholar, I do not desire any one to mention him,—but for the love of the Saviour, pray for the clergy.—Now is slain, etc.

I cannot find any thing that they did well, neither baron nor earl,—the knights and the esquires are all disgraced,—on account of their loyalty and truth, which is entirely annihilated;—the deceitful man may reign, the fool for his folly.—Now is slain, etc.

Sir Simon, the worthy man, and his company,—are gone in joy up to heaven, in everlasting life.—But Jesus Christ, who placed himself on the cross, and God have care of those,—who are remitted, and detained in hard prison.—Now is slain, etc.

Translation.—The flourishing deeds of Edward King of the English oblige me to talk, for it is shameful to let pass famous actions in silence. He, while yet in his tender youth, went through many conflicts with a manly heart. Warlike as a pard, fragrant with sweetness like spikenard, whilst Edward is in his vigour, behold he shines like a new Richard. Thus the Britons have a double claim to honour, by the wars of Edward equally and by the valour of Richard. France praised the manners of the warlike youth; the ample hand of the giver amassed merited honours. The envious people desiring to extinguish his merited praise, began to weave new plots in their mind: the English nobles, by inventing a new law, made a wretched land of a rich kingdom. The king his father, and his uncle, with their two children, are governed by their subjects, out of which many evils follow. The degenerate race of the English, which used to serve, inverting the order of things, ruled over the king and his children. The people conspires, in order to enjoy a new law; soon after, the league being broken, horrid wars arise. While the populace associated with itself the Earl of Leicester, it accumulated for itself internal exhaustion. The impious people attacks its own king, makes captive the son with his father and uncle, next seizes upon the government; the victors rejoice, their hearts swell. Edward escapes, and immediately new battles follow. He calls together assistance, leagues are established, the army of the leader increased, the deluded troop laments its crimes. The parties meet; weapons are clashed; the fields are moistened with blood by the vigour of the soldier Edward. The Earl is slain by the sword; the barons are put to death with the weapon’s point; thus the vanquished conquer, and the conquerors are overcome. Although by sedition almost robbed of his own kingdom, he overcame the conquering legions by a wonderful effort. The noble offspring carried back his father to the government of the kingdom, wickedly wrested from him, which he had long ruled. The conquered populace roars, and again joins its warlike squadrons to the barons; fortifies towns with provisions and weapons. Soon after the isle of Ely is ravaged by the popular leaders. London, the capital city of our kingdom, is occupied by some, and is shaken with fearful strife; but all these difficulties are conquered with wonderful strength. Peace, wished for, returns; the arms are laid by; clouds have given place to sunshine; the joys of the English increase. The active Edward, flying from idleness, next took up the sign of the cross, desirous of performing a worthy service to Christ, who had delivered him from this whirlwind of wars; a pious troop of men follows. The King of Sicily, brother of the King of France, had conducted a vast host to the kingdom of Tunis, that he might recover the tribute which had been refused, saying that this would be a safe way for the whole army to the Holy Land; the people which was signed with the cross lamented to see its object thus unpropitiously changed. Edward follows in the belief that there will be powerful fighting with the Saracens; but the Gentile King wisely avoiding battle, paid whatever he asked. King Louis dies with his eldest son; France lamented; King Charles returns, and brings back the troops, the English with the Sicilians; the anxious Britons wept. The King of Sicily wickedly broke his vow of crusading, and the people, deceived, lamented his changing. He arrives at the port of Trapeni; soon a whirlwind from the north strikes the fleet; multitudes of people perish; all the money is sunk; but the English fleet is providentially saved, without losing the value of a farthing. The king refuses to proceed, or to perform his vow. The pious leader of the English and all his company alike embark, pass the sea, and make for the places which were besieged by the Gentiles, pressed under a long lasting storm. Acre takes breath, rejoicing in such a soldier, and rises as it were from the grave to sing new songs of praise. The Soldan was enraged, and thought to slay the noble leader, whom he caused to be stabbed by a detestable butcher. This assassin brought pretended messages from the Old Man of the Mountain, which were but false pretences; he enters the chamber and shuts the door; with a knife he adds wound upon wound; but Edward, on the other hand, resisted strenuously; with his strength he laid prostrate the murderer, whom he slew with a merited death by his own weapon. And because Christ knew that his servant was worthy, he healed his wounds with a sacred medicine.

Translation.—I heard men on the earth make much lamentation,—how they are injured in their tillage,—good years and corn are both gone,—they keep here no saying and sing no song.—Now we must work, there is no other custom,—I can no longer live with my gleaning;—yet there is a bitterer asking for the boon,—for ever the fourth penny must [go] to the king.

Thus we complain for the king, and care full coldly,—and think to recover, and ever are cast;—he who hath any goods, expects not to keep them,—but ever the dearest we lose at last.

It is grievous to lose, where there is little,—and we have many fellows who expect it;—the hayward commandeth us harm to have of his;—the bailiff causeth us to know evil, and thinks to do well;—the woodward has woe in keeping for us, who looketh under branches;—there may not arise to us or remain with us riches or repose.—Thus they rob the poor man, who is of little value:—he must needs in sweat and in labour waste away so.

He must needs pine away, though he had swore (?),—that hath not a hood to hide his head.—Thus will walketh in the land, and law is destroyed,—and all the pride of the rider is picked from the poor.

Thus they rob the poor and pick him full clean,—the rich lord it without any right;—their lands and their people lay full lean,—through asking of bailifs such harm has befallen them.—Many of religion hold them full abject,—baron and bond-man, the clerk and the knight.—Thus will walks in the land, and consternation is frequent,—falsehood fattens and marrs with might.

He stands full in the place, and holds him full sternly,—that makes beggars go with bordon and bags.—Thus we are hunted from hall to corner;—they who once wore robes, now wear rags.

Still there come beadles, with very great boast,—“Prepare me silver for the green wax:—thou art entered in my writing, that thou knowest well of.”—More than ten times I paid my tax.—Then must I have hens roasted,—fair on the fish day lamprey and salmon;—forth to the market gains not cost,—though I sell my bill and my borstax.

I must lay my pledge well if I will,—or sell my corn while it is but green grass.—Yet I shall be a foul churl, though they have the whole,—what I have saved all the year, I must spend then.

I must needs spend what I saved formerly,—I must thus take care against the time these catchpoles come;—the master beadle comes as roughly as a boar,—he says he will make my lodgings full bare;—I must give him for meed a mark or more,—though I sell my mare at the day fixed.—There the green wax grieveth us under garment,—so that they hunt us as a hound doth the hare.

They hunt us as a hound doth a hare on the hill;—since I took to the land such hurt was given me:—the beadles have never asked their ...,—for they may scape, and we are always caught.

Thus I take and catch cares full cold,—since I reckoning and cot had to keep;—to seek silver for the king, I sold my seed,—wherefore my land lies fallow and learneth to sleep.—Since they fetched my fair cattle in my fold,—when I think of my weal I very nearly weep;—thus breed many bold beggars,—and our rye is rotted and ... before we reap.

... is our rye and rotted in the straw,—on account of the bad weather by brook and by brink.—There wakes in the world consternation and woe,—as good is to perish at once as so to labour.

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.

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.

Since the king is determined to take so much,—he may find enough among the rich and he would get more and do better, as it appears to me,—to have taken a part from the great, and to have spared the little.—He sins who takes the money of the needy without cause.

We ought not to lay such wickedness to the charge of the king,—but to the bad counsellor, by his rapacity. The king is a young bachelor, and is not of an age—to compass any malice, but to do all probity.—Such counsel does general harm.

It is no trouble to the great thus to grant to the king a tax; the simple must pay it all, which is contrary to God’s will.—This counsel is not at all good, but polluted with vice;—it is ill ordained, that those who grant should pay nothing.—For those who make the grant give nothing to the king, it is the needy only who give.

How will they perform good deeds out of the sweat of the poor,—whom the rich ought to spare, by gift or favour?—they ought to tax the great, for the fear of God;—and spare more the people, who live in pain.—Thou who art rich enough, live not thus upon the poor.

I see at the present day how people are proud,—with other people’s goods they hold great court, which will quickly pass.—When the high judgment comes, the great day of wrath,—unless they make atonement, they must then perish.—The King says to the bad, “Go:” to the good, “Come.”

O God, who wast crowned with the sharp thorn,—have pity with divine grace upon thy people!—May the world be comforted of such ruin!—To tell unvarnished truth, it is mere robbery.—The property of the poor taken without their will, is as it were stolen.

Such tribute can in no manner last long;—out of emptiness who can give, or touch anything with his hands.—People are reduced to such ill plight, that they can give no more;—I fear, if they had a leader, they would rise in rebellion.—Loss of property often makes people fools.

There is so much scarcity of money among people,—that people can in the market, there are so few buyers,—although they may have cloth or corn, swine or sheep,—make nothing of them, in truth, there are so many needy people.—The people is not joyful, when money is so scarce.

If the king would take my advice, I would praise him then,—to take the vessels of silver, and make money of them;—it would be better to eat out of wood, and to give money for victuals—than to serve the body with silver, and pay with wood.—It is a sign of vice, to pay for victuals with wood.

The commissions of those who are employed over sea are too dear;—now the poor have not their lands to sustain the same.—I do not know how they can save their souls,—who would live upon other people’s goods, and save their own.—They cannot doubt but they will be punished, who covet the property of others.

May God, for the sake of his holy name, confound errors,—and those who meditate treason, and the disturbers of the peace!—and take vengeance on such tormentors!—and confirm and grant love between the kings!—May he lose consolation who breaks the peace! Amen.

Translation.—It is my design to turn the arts of an unskilful race to the fruit of a better life, and so proceed ye to each of the arts in order: O youth who have been deceived, come to my lessons.—Every class of the clergy is opposed to the laws, of whom the condition to-day is worse than it was yesterday; every priest will hold his own rites: envy detracted from the talents of great Homer.—When the sailor spreads his sail against the north wind, and the ass thinks to conquer the camel in the race, then the hand fears not to put the face towards heaven; I am wounded and carry the weapon shut up in my breast.—The shaggy she-goat wishes to be preferred to the sheep, in her folly not considering with what she is clothed; so fine a fleece has not been given to her: as the tortoise once said to the winged birds.—Although the logicians are satisfied with naked glory, and live under the garb of the needy, nevertheless they envy the rich. Envy seeks the summit, the wind blows vehemently on lofty places.—It is always the manner of envy, that they aim from the bottom upwards, the last speak against the first: he who is elevated does not think it worth while to envy him who is most low. The envious man becomes lean by regarding the fatness of another.—If you do not desire to live poor and beggarly, always labouring like the servant Stichus, a fig-tree without fruit worthy to be cast in the fire; love others so that thou mayest be a dear friend to thyself.—It is good for poor men to adhere to the law; I have chosen to labour much on the arts. I am ignorant therefore how I may be guided, who once composed verses, while my study flourished.—If any one will expend his labour upon logic, will it not produce him thorns and brambles? in too much sweat he will eat his bread; and even that his talkative tongue will hardly give him.—The logician in vain sows his seed in the sand, for in harvest time there will be no fruit; upon a barren fig-tree all labour is lost. Such as is the tree, such will be the fruit it bears.—Although you be arrived at the summit of the arts, you will be in a short time despised by the younger aspirants; they will say of thee, “he doats, affected with old age.” Old age, why do you emulous cease to hasten the end?—Thou sittest in the chair of a true pestilence, who readest the tragedy of Thebes or of Troy; [whilst] the seats of the legists abound in riches, and now he goes on horseback who used to go on foot.—He who sits up at night to study the arts is truly a fool; why do you yawn over the Georgic? thus the field may lie neglected and barren, while by chance you may be desirous of understanding the culture of the earth.—It is right that we should labour upon the laws; a field that produces a hundred-fold is not to be set aside. The book of the poor is to be read by the poor man; this chiefly is the book to be devotedly cultivated by thee.—Why do you consume your time upon dialectics, thou who receivest no income from other sources? Let him cultivate it who is born of high family in the country, rich in land and rich in money laid out at interest.—Let the rich man learn to be strong in fallacies; let him learn to make a she-goat of the person of chance. Let him never desert the arts, before the hour of his death. Satisfied with fame, let Lucan lie hid in the gardens.—If imbued in the arts he should chance to fail, he will fly to the legists if he will be safe: because he knows no more how to defend himself than one who is dumb, having pursued too much and too often the study of the Greeks.—I see the halls of the nobles open; when the legist comes, the bolts are undone; thou, shut out, mayest sit at the door, although thou thyself, Homer, shouldst come along with the muses.—The logician may be compared to a spider, which learns to spin subtle webs, that are made out of its own bowels; the reward is a fly, if by chance it can be netted.—If fortune favour a logician in his kindred, for she looks upon the logician with a benignant countenance; if a logician be rich under this sign of the heavens; he is a rare bird upon earth, and very like a black swan.—If you wish to know the secrets of nature, study physic which gives health to the limbs; what man’s need requires is enough, Galen and the sanction of Justinian are riches enough.

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.

Translation.—When a man has to speak, let him consider what words he utters;—he ought to pay attention to them, lest he appear a fool.—When any one speaks, unless reason rest therein,—he is laughed at, and so he shall gain little.—In holy church there are often many who hold advanced situations;—some are wise, many are inferior.—When a man may do most, then he exhibits his will,—in gifts also, if he will he gives thee presents.—Do a kindness to an ungrateful man, and afterwards he will scarcely look at you;—he will not even give you milk for good wine, nor will he make you any return.—Take care of thy intellect, as of a thing which is worth more than thy house;—although thou be moody, strength is nothing without reason.—Law lies down over all, false fraud deceives everywhere;—and there is but little love, because people conduct themselves wickedly.—Woe walks wide, since anger moves those who are powerful;—right cannot ride, because it goes to the ignorant.—Now that fraud is alive, law will not dwell in the land;—and since the matter is in that position, right may not easily stand.—The false man breaks his promise, although he say to thee, “thou shalt have it.”—He will scarcely give an old glove, ... thou shalt afterwards weep.—Mine and thine are two, which break the love of the people;—these two for us will cause frequent grief.—Treason injures, and reason is given to few;—reason makes sure, while treason confounds all things.—Peace may not well be, while it stands by two names;—Lord Christ, do thou look to it, through thee may there be a medicine for these things!—The sick man dies, although the art of medicine lie by his side;—the living man is deceived, there is none who shall abide here.—You will find many such as will take very much from you;—in the end you will see well, that they will return you nothing.—Be pacific, so mayest thou possess thy will;—also a teller of truth, and stand for the time still.—May there be peace in the land, through thee, God, kind power!—forbid war, lest want invade us.—Good Lord Almighty, give peace, O benignant Christ!—Thou canst do all things, hinder us from perishing in the fire.

Translation.—Perplexity of heart compels me to tell wonderful things, that England begins to be subjected to Scotland: it is said that new prodigies are now performed, when the daughter takes upon her to lord it over the mother.—England the matron of many regions, to whom tributary gifts were given, is now, alas! constrained too much to be prostrate to the daughter, by whom the maternal crown is injured.—A general proclamation went through England, admonishing everybody to take up arms, that the army might go to Scotland to vindicate our rights, or to be able to avenge our injury.—To which theme I ought to procrastinate very much; the king began to assemble his troops, unadvisedly he went to make war on the Scots: his anger voluntarily subsided, unwilling longer to hold out.—There were in the army many nobles, knights who were too showy and pompous; when so many impetuous men came to the conflict, the courageous enemies were ready enough.—They were courageous, as will appear; when the two sides engaged, that one remained firm, but that which had shown so much pride fled. The wicked party succumbed, the cunning one conquered.—An unheard-of battle thickened between them; first rushed forward the unconquered Actæus, the Earl of Gloucester, alas! giving fatal blows; who, standing in the thick of the battle, is deserted.—He compelled the troops of the enemy to break, and subdued the bodies of strong men; but one of his own chosen retainers, he was not a fool when he ruined the affair.—This is the traitorous man, Bartholomew, whom in all victories may God confound! Because he has been to his master as changeable as a Pharisee. Hence as the representative of Judas he shall be condemned to death.—Seeing the enemy’s rage against his master, he pretends that he had been out more than six weeks; because he refused to come to his master’s support, this traitor has deserved to be put to the rack.—Many are they whereby the Earl was seduced, led like a sheep to the sacrifice and to death; through whom such common lamentation arises, is sufficiently known by their fruits.—With whose venom all England is poisoned; and thus common justice is weakened; by these the royal judgment is darkened; in consequence of this, faith is driven into exile.—Charity lies subdued, and virtue is trodden down; ingratitude flourishes, and fraud rules; whatever of evil is perpetrated in this country, is all the work of the aforesaid traitors.—This deceitful man was not the only one by whom the art of treason was now exercised; but there was another concerned in it, whom may heaven not conceal, and may he become, as he deserves, a morsel of hell.—Knights such as these, obstinate against the kingdom, retainers of Satan, are too rapacious; if the King’s judges every where are true, they will destroy the enchanters and their followers.—They deserved to suffer judgment of decapitation, since voluntarily they have betrayed such a soldiery; the Earl’s domestics, who were clowns, as they have remained, took to flight.—These by a multifarious treason betrayed their lord, whom the impious people of Scotland surrounded; they struck him down from his steed, and the faithful esquires who were with him fell struck down in different ways; the knights and others fell along with him; when his friends tried to succour him, they were not able to resist so many enemies.—Thus died an Earl who was distinguished above all others, who had given his property to wicked men; let every one have a care to himself, after these examples, that he give not henceforth trust to such unworthy people.—By this let those Earls who are still alive, learning from experience, be on their guard, when at another time they stand united in battle, that they be not thus bruised by the weapon of treason.—England is tormented with very much grief, that she is deprived of her honour by such craftiness; let her be fortified more cautiously, with labour of mind, that the last error be not worse than the former.—I advise the Earls who are still alive, that henceforward they destroy traitors; and thus by their industry let them all be made prisoners; let the English thus make their way into Scotland.—I believe that I tell the truth, I endeavour not to say what is false; now the honour of our nation begins to decline; when the livid colour of death spread itself over the Earl, then immediately grew the terrible grief of England.—Of our people of England some are in captivity; some ran away from the battle half dead; they who were rich are made ransom; because the nobles go mad, the common people are the sufferers.—The minds of the chieftains of England are weary with studying, for the league of justice is without any certain existence; may therefore the King of power, who sprang from the root of Jesse, destroy utterly the maintainers of perfidy!—When the north-east wind rages, the south-west wind dropped; and to the people of the south the pain of death increased. England used to obtain victory, but by the treachery of the offspring the mother hath lost her savour.—If you knew, Gloucester, your fate, you would weep, because your heir perishes in Scotland; thy sons-in-law will take thee, from whom thou wilt suffer disgrace; lest they should make thee ... thou will bruise the present government.—Thou art made as a lady widowed of her husband, whose comfort is changed into weeping; thou art a solitary city deprived of thy head; may the blessed Trinity amend thy fortune!