The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 2 (of 2)

Name: The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 2 (of 2)
Author: Skelton, John

Skelton, John

English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700

Reioyse, Englande,
  And vnderstande
  These tidinges newe,
  Whiche be as trewe
  As the gospell:
  This duke so fell
  Of Albany,
  So cowardly,
  With all his hoost
  Of the Scottyshe coost,                                               10
  For all theyr boost,
  Fledde lyke a beest;
  Wherfore to ieste
  Is my delyght
  Of this cowarde knyght,
  And for to wright
  In the dispyght
  Of the Scottes ranke
  Of Huntley banke,
  Of Lowdyan,                                                           20
  Of Locryan,
  And the ragged ray
  Of Galaway.
    Dunbar, Dunde,
  Ye shall trowe me,
  False Scottes are ye:
  Your hartes sore faynted,
  And so[258] attaynted,
  Lyke cowardes starke,
  At the castell of Warke,                                              30
  By the water of Twede,
  Ye had euill spede;
  Lyke cankerd curres,
  Ye loste your spurres,
  For in that fraye
  Ye ranne awaye,
  With, hey, dogge, hay!
  For Sir William Lyle
  Within shorte whyle,
  That valiaunt knyght,                                                 40
  Putte you to flyght;
  By his valyaunce
  Two thousande[259] of Fraunce
  There he putte backe,
  To your great lacke,
  And vtter shame
  Of your Scottysshe name.
  Your chefe cheftayne,
  Voyde of all brayne,
  Duke of all Albany,                                                   50
  Than shamefuly
  He reculed backe,
  To his great lacke,
  Whan he herde tell
  That my lorde amrell
  Was comyng downe,
  To make hym frowne
  And to make hym lowre,
  With the noble powre
  Of my lorde cardynall,                                                60
  As an hoost royall,
  After the auncient manner,
  With sainct Cutberdes banner,
  And sainct Williams also;
  Your capitayne ranne to go,
  To go, to go, to go,
  And brake vp all his hoost;
  For all his crake and bost,
  Lyke a cowarde knyght,
  He fledde, and durst nat fyght,                                       70
  He ranne awaye by night.
    But now must I
  Your Duke ascry
  Of Albany
  With a worde or twayne
  In sentence playne.
    Ye duke so doutty,
  So sterne, so stoutty,
  In shorte sentens,
  Of your pretens                                                       80
  What is the grounde,
  Breuely and rounde
  To me expounde,
  Or els wyll I
  Euydently
  Shewe as it is;
  For the cause is this,
  Howe ye pretende
  For to defende
  The yonge Scottyshe kyng,                                             90
  But ye meane a thyng,
  And ye coude bryng
  The matter about,
  To putte his eyes out
  And put hym downe,
  And set hys crowne
  On your owne heed
  Whan he were deed.
  Such trechery
  And traytory                                                         100
  Is all your cast;
  Thus ye haue compast
  With the Frenche kyng
  A fals rekenyng
  To enuade Englande,
  As I vnderstande:
  But our kyng royall,
  Whose name ouer all,
  Noble Henry the eyght,
  Shall cast a beyght,                                                 110

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The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 2 (of 2)

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