In that morning fell a myst,
And when oure Ingliss-men it wist,
It changed all thaire chere;

Oure king unto god made his bone,
And god sent him gude confort sone,
The weder wex ful clere.

Oure king and his men held the felde
Stalworthly, with spere and schelde,
And thoght to win his right,
With lordes, and with knightes kene,
And other doghty men bydene,

That war ful frek to fight.

When sir Philip of France herd tell
That king Edward in feld walld dwell,
Than gayned him no gle;

He traisted of no better bote,
Bot both on hors and on fote
He hasted him to fle.

It semid he was ferd for strokes
When he did fell his grete okes
Obout his pavilyoune;

Abated was than all his pride,

For langer thare durst he noght bide, His bost was broght all doune.

The king of Beme had cares colde,
That was ful hardy and bolde,
A stede to umstride;

[He and] the king als of Naverne
War faire ferd in the ferne

Thaire heviddes for to hide.

And leves wele it es no lye,

And felde hat Flemangrye

That king Edward was in,

With princes that war strif ande bolde,
And dukes that war doghty tolde,
In batayle to bigin.

The princes that war riche on raw
Gert nakers strike, and trumpes blaw,
And made mirth at thaire might;

Both alblast and many a bow
War redy railed opon a row,
And ful frek for to fight.

Gladly thai gaf mete and drink,
So that thai suld the better swink,

The wight men that thar ware.

Sir Philip of Fraunce fled for dout, And hied him hame with all his rout:

Coward, god giff him care!

For thare than had the lely-flowre

Lorn all halely his honowre,

That so gat fled for ferd;

Bot oure king Edward come ful still, When that he trowed no harm him till, And keped him in the berde.

C

IV.

LITHES, AND THE BATAIL I SAL BIGYN

OF INGLISCH-MEN AND NORMANDES IN THE SWYN.

MINOT with mowth had menid to make
Suth sawes and sad for sum mens sake;
The wordes of sir Edward makes me to wake,
Wald he salve us sone mi sorow suld slake;
War mi sorow slaked sune wald I sing:
When god will sir Edward sal us bute bring.
Sir Philip the Valas cast was in care,
And said sir Hugh Kyret to Flandres suld fare,
And have Normondes inogh to leve on his lare,
All Flandres to brin, and mak it all bare;
Bot, unkind coward, wo was him thare,
When he sailed in the Swin it sowed him sare;
Sare it tham smerted that ferd out of France,
Thare lered Inglis-men tham a new daunce.
The burjase of Bruge ne war noght to blame,

I

pray Jhesu save tham fro sin and fro schame; For thai war sone at the Sluse all by a name,

Whare many of the Normandes tok mekill grame.

When Bruges and Ipyre hereof herd tell,

Thai sent Edward to wit, that was in Arwell;
Than had he no liking langer to dwell,

He hasted him to the Swin, with sergantes snell,
To mete with the Normandes that fals war and fell,
That had ment, if thai might, al Flandres to quell.
King Edward unto sail was ful sune dight,
With erles and barons, and many kene knight;
Thai come byfor Blankebergh on saint Jons night,
That was to the Normondes a well sary sight;
Zit trumped thai and daunced, with torches ful bright
In the wilde waniand was thaire hertes light.
Opon the morn efter, if i suth say,

A mery man, sir Robard out of Morlay,

A half-eb in the Swin soght he the way,
Thare lered men the Normandes at bukler to play;
Helpid tham no prayer that thai might pray,
The wreches es wonnen, thaire wapin es oway.
The erle of Norhamton helpid at that nede,
Als wise man of wordes, and worthli in wede.
Sir Walter the Mawnay, god gif him mede!
Was bold of body in batayle to bede.
The duc of Lankaster was dight for to drive,
With mani mody man that thoght for to thrive;
Wele and stalworthly stint he that strive,

That few of the Normandes left thai olive;