Читать книгу English and Scottish Ballads (Vol. 1-8) - Various Authors - Страница 11

MS. Ashmole, 61, fol. 59 to 62.

This amusing piece was first published entire in Hartshorne's Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 209, but with great inaccuracies. It is there called The Cokwolds Daunce. A few extracts had previously been given from the MS., in the Notes to Orfeo and Heurodis, in Laing's Early Popular Poetry of Scotland. Mr. Wright contributed a corrected edition to Karajan's Frühlingsgabe für Freunde älterer Literatur. That work not being at the moment obtainable, the Editor was saved from the necessity of reprinting or amending a faulty text, by the kindness of J.O. Halliwell, Esq., who sent him a collation of Hartshorne's copy with the Oxford manuscript.

All that wyll of solas lere,

Herkyns now, and ȝe schall here,

And ȝe kane vnderstond;

Off a bowrd I wyll ȝou schew,

That ys full gode and trew,

That fell some tyme in Ynglond.

Kynge Arthour was off grete honour,

Off castellis and of many a toure,

And full wyde iknow;

A gode ensample I wyll ȝou sey,

What chanse befell hym one a dey;

Herkyn to my saw!

Cokwoldes he louyd, as I ȝou plyȝt;

He honouryd them, both dey and nyght,

In all maner of thyng;

And as I rede in story,

He was kokwold sykerly;

Ffor sothê it is no lesyng.

Herkyne, seres, what I sey;

Her may ȝe here solas and pley,

Iff ȝe wyll take gode hede;

Kyng Arthour had a bugyll horn,

That ever mour stod hym be forn,

Were so that ever he ȝede.

Ffor when he was at the bord sete,

Anon the horne schuld be fette,

Ther off that he myght drynk;

Ffor myche crafte he couth thereby,

And ofte tymes the treuth he sey;

Non other couth he thynke.

Iff any cokwold drynke of it,

Spyll he schuld, withouten lette;

Therfor thei wer not glade;

Gret dispyte thei had therby,

Because it dyde them vilony,

And made them oft tymes sade.

When the kyng wold hafe solas,

The bugyll was fett into the plas,

To make solas and game;

And then changyd the cokwoldes chere;

The kyng them callyd ferre and nere,

Lordynges, by ther name.

Than men myght se game inowȝe,

When every cokwold on other leuȝe,

And ȝit thei schamyd sore:

Where euer the cokwoldes wer sought,

Befor the kyng thei were brought,

Both lesse and more.

Kyng Arthour than, verament,

Ordeynd, throw hys awne assent,

Ssoth as I ȝow sey,

The tabull dormounte withouten lette;

Ther at the cokwoldes wer sette,

To have solas and pley.

Ffor at the bord schuld be non other

Bot euery cokwold and his brother;

To tell treuth I must nedes;

And when the cokwoldes wer sette,

Garlandes of wylos sculd be fette,

And sett vpon ther hedes.

Off the best mete, withoute lesyng,

That stode on bord befor the kyng,

Both ferr and nere,

To the cokwoldes he sente anon,

And bad them be glad euerychon,

Ffor his sake make gode chere.

And seyd, "Lordyngs, for ȝour lyues,

Be neuer the wrother with ȝour wyues,

Ffor no manner of nede:

Off women com duke and kyng;

I ȝow tell without lesyng,

Of them com owre manhed.

So it befell sertenly,

The duke off Glosseter com in hyȝe,

To the courte with full gret myȝht;

He was reseyued at the kyngs palys,

With mych honour and grete solas,

With lords that were well dygȝht.

With the kyng ther dyde he dwell,

Bot how long I can not tell,

Therof knaw I non name;

Off kyng Arthour a wonder case,

Frendes, herkyns how it was,

Ffor now begynes game.

Vppon a dey, withouten lette,

The duke with the kyng was sette,

At mete with mykill pride;

He lukyd abowte wonder faste,

Hys syght on euery syde he caste

To them that sate besyde.

The kyng aspyed the erle anon,

And fast he lowȝhe the erle vpon,

And bad he schuld be glad;

And yet, for all hys grete honour,

Cokwold was Kyng Arthour,

Ne galle non he had.

So at the last, the duke he brayd,

And to the kyng thes wordes sayd;

He myght no longer forbere;

100

"Syr, what hath thes men don,

That syche garlondes thei were vpon?

That skyll wold I lere."

The kyng seyd the erle to,

"Syr, non hurte they haue do,

105

Ffor this was thruȝh a chans.

Sertes thei be fre men all,

Ffor non of them hath no gall;

Therfor this is ther penans.

"Ther wyves hath ben merchandabull,

110

And of ther ware compenabull;

Methinke it is non herme;

A man of lufe that wold them craue,

Hastely he schuld it haue,

Ffor thei couth not hym wern.

115

"All theyr wyves, sykerlyke,

Hath vsyd the backefysyke,

Whyll thes men were oute;

And ofte they haue draw that draught,

To vse well the lechers craft,

120

With rubyng of ther toute.

"Syr," he seyd, "now haue I redd;

Ete we now, and make vs glad,

And euery man fle care;"

The duke seyd to hym anon,

125

"Than be thei cokwoldes, everychon;"

The kyng seyd, "hold the there."

The kyng than, after the erlys word,

Send to the cokwolds bord,

To make them mery among,

130

All manner of mynstralsy,

To glad the cokwolds by and by

With herpe, fydell, and song:

And bad them take no greffe,

Bot all with loue and with leffe,

135

Euery man … with other;

Ffor after mete, without distans,

The cockwolds schuld together danse,

Euery man with hys brother.

Than began a nobull game:

140

The cockwolds together came

Befor the erle and the kyng;

In skerlet kyrtells over one,

The cokwoldes stodyn euerychon,

Redy vnto the dansyng.

145

Than seyd the kyng in hye,

"Go fyll my bugyll hastely,

And bryng it to my hond.

I wyll asey with a gyne

All the cokwolds that her is in;

150

To know them wyll I fond."

Than seyd the erle, "for charyte,

In what skyll, tell me,

A cokwold may I know?"

To the erle the kyng ansuerd,

155

"Syr, be myn hore berd,

Thou schall se within a throw."

The bugyll was brought the kyng to hond.

Then seyd the kyng, "I vnderstond,

Thys horne that ȝe here se,

160

Ther is no cockwold, fer ne nere,

Here of to drynke hath no power,

As wyde as Crystiante,

"Bot he schall spyll on euery syde;

Ffor any cas that may betyde,

165

Schall non therof avanse."

And ȝit, for all hys grete honour,

Hymselfe, noble kyng Arthour,

Hath forteynd syche a chans.

"Syr erle," he seyd, "take and begyn."

170

He seyd; "nay, be seynt Austyn,

That wer to me vylony;

Not for all a reme to wyn,

Befor you I schuld begyn,

Ffor honour off my curtassy."

175

Kyng Arthour ther he toke the horn,

And dyde as he was wont beforn,

Bot ther was ȝit gon a gyle:

He wend to haue dronke of the best,

Bot sone he spyllyd on hys brest,

180

Within a lytell whyle.

The cokwoldes lokyd iche on other,

And thought the kyng was their own brother,

And glad thei wer of that:

"He hath vs scornyd many a tyme,

185

And now he is a cokwold fyne,

To were a cokwoldes hate."

The quene was therof schamyd sore;

Sche changyd hyr colour lesse and more,

And wold haue ben a wey.

190

Therwith the kyng gan hyr behold,

And seyd he schuld neuer be so bold,

The soth agene to sey.

"Cokwoldes no mour I wyll repreue,

Ffor I ame ane, and aske no leue,

195

Ffor all my rentes and londys.

Lordyngs, all now may ȝe know

That I may dance in the cokwold row,

And take ȝou by the handes."

Than seyd thei all at a word,

200

That cokwoldes schuld begynne the bord,

And sytt hyest in the halle.

"Go we, lordyngs, all [and] same,

And dance to make vs gle and game,

Ffor cokwolds have no galle."

205

And after that sone anon,

The kyng causyd the cokwolds ychon

To wesch withouten les;

Ffor ought that euer may betyde,

He sett them by hys awne syde,

210

Vp at the hyȝe dese.

The kyng hymselff a gurlond fette;

Uppon hys hede he it sette,

Ffor it myght be non other,

And seyd, "Lordyngs, sykerly,

215

We be all off a freyry;

I ame ȝour awne brother.

"Be Jhesu Cryst that is aboffe,

That man aught me gode loffe

That ley by my quene:

220

I wer worthy hym to honour,

Both in castell and in towre,

With rede, skerlet and grene.

"Ffor him he helpyd, when I was forth,

To cher my wyfe and make her myrth;

225

Ffor women louys wele pley;

And therfor, serys, have ȝe no dowte

Bot many schall dance in the cokwoldes rowte,

Both by nyght and dey.

"And therefor, lordyngs, take no care;

230

Make we mery; for nothing spare;

All brether in one rowte."

Than the cokwoldes wer full blythe,

And thankyd God a hundred syth,

Ffor soth withouten dowte.

235

Every cokwold seyd to other,

"Kyng Arthour is our awne brother,

Therfor we may be blyth:"

The erle off Glowsytur verament,

Toke hys leve, and home he wente,

240

And thankyd the kyng fele sythe.

Kyng Arthour lived at Karlyon,

With hys cokwolds euerychon,

And made both gam and gle:

* * * * *

A knyght ther was withouten les,

245

That seruyd at the kyngs des,

Syr Corneus hyght he;

He made this gest in hys gam,

And named it after hys awne name,

In herpyng or other gle.

250

And after, nobull kyng Arthour

Lyued and dyed with honour,

As many hath don senne,

Both cokwoldes and other mo:

God gyff vs grace that we may go

To heuyn! Amen, Amen.

26, sette. See 59, 211.

38, sett.

56, brothers.

98, MS. spake.

115, MS. baskefysyke.

135, word wanting.

178, Bot he.

241, left at Skarlyon.

243, Three lines omitted in MS.

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