Frome the laureat senate by force of proscripcyon; Or elles, ye know well, I can do no lesse But I most bannysshe hym frome my iurydiccyon,[1551] As he that aquentyth hym with ydilnes; But if that he purpose to make a redresse, What he hath done, let it be brought to syght; 230 Graunt my petycyon, I aske you but ryght. _Dame Pallas to the Quene of Fame._ To your request we be well condiscendid: Call forthe, let se where is your clarionar, To blowe a blaste with his long breth extendid; Eolus, your trumpet, that[1552] knowne is so farre, That bararag blowyth in euery mercyall warre, Let hym blowe now, that we may take a[1553] vewe What poetis we haue at our retenewe; To se if Skelton wyll[1554] put hymselfe in prease Amonge the thickeste of all the hole rowte; 240 Make noyse enoughe, for claterars loue no peas; Let se, my syster, now spede you,[1555] go aboute; Anone, I sey, this trumpet were founde out, And for no man hardely let hym spare To blowe bararag[1556] tyll bothe his eyne stare. _Skelton Poeta._ Forthwith there rose amonge the thronge A wonderfull noyse, and on euery syde They presid in faste; some thought they were to longe; Sume were to hasty, and wold no man byde; Some whispred, some rownyd, some spake, and some cryde, 250 With heuynge and shouynge, haue in and haue oute; Some ranne the nexte way, sume ranne abowte. There was suyng to the Quene of Fame; He plucked hym backe, and he went afore; Nay, holde thy tunge, quod another, let me haue the name; Make rowme, sayd another, ye prese all to sore; Sume sayd, Holde thy peas, thou getest here no more; A thowsande thowsande I sawe on a plumpe: With that I harde the noyse of a trumpe, That longe tyme blewe a full timorous blaste, 260 Lyke to the boryall wyndes whan they blowe, That towres and townes and trees downe caste, Droue clowdes together lyke dryftis of snowe; The dredefull dinne droue all the rowte on a rowe; Some tremblid, some girnid, some gaspid, some gasid, As people halfe peuysshe, or men that were masyd. Anone all was whyste, as it were for the nonys, And iche man stode gasyng and staryng vpon other: With that there come in wonderly at ones A murmur of mynstrels, that suche another 270 Had I neuer sene, some softer, some lowder; Orpheus, the Traciane, herped meledyously Weth Amphion, and other Musis of Archady: Whos heuenly armony was so passynge sure, So truely proporsionyd, and so well did gree, So duly entunyd with euery mesure, That in the forest was none so great a tre But that he daunced for ioye of that gle; The huge myghty okes them selfe dyd auaunce, And lepe frome the hylles to lerne for to daunce: 280