TETRASTICHON VERITATIS.
Felix qui bustum formasti,[698] rex, tibi cuprum;
Auro si tectus fueras, fueras spoliatus,
Nudus, prostratus, tanta est rabiosa cupido
Undique nummorum: rex, pace precor requiescas. Amen.
[698] formasti] So Reges, &c. Marshe’s ed. “torniasti.”
SKELTON LAUREATE AGAINST THE SCOTTES.[699]
Agaynst the prowde Scottes clatterynge,
That neuer wyll leaue theyr tratlynge:
Wan they the felde, and lost theyr kynge?
They may well say, fye on that wynnynge!
Lo, these fonde sottes
And tratlynge Scottes,
How thei are blynde
In theyr owne mynde,
And wyll not know
Theyr ouerthrow 10
At Branxton[700] more!
They are so stowre,
So frantyke mad,
They say they had
And wan the felde
With spere and shelde:
That is as trew
As blacke is blew
And grene is gray.
What euer they say, 20
Jemmy is ded
And closed in led,
That was theyr owne kynge:
Fy on that wynnynge!
At Floddon[701] hyllys
Our bowys, our byllys,
Slewe all the floure
Of theyr honoure.
Are not[702] these Scottys
Folys and sottys, 30
Suche boste to make,
To prate and crake,
To face, to brace,
All voyde of grace,
So prowde of hart,
So ouerthwart,
So out of frame,
So voyde of shame,
As it is enrolde,
Wrytten and tolde 40
Within this quayre?
Who lyst to[703] repayre,
And therin reed,
Shall fynde indeed
A mad rekenynge,
Consyderynge al thynge,
That the Scottis may synge[704]
Fy on the wynnynge!
When the Scotte lyued.
Joly Jemmy, ye scorneful Scot,
Is it come vnto your lot 50
A solempne sumner for to be?
It greyth nought for your degre
Our kynge of Englande for to syght,[705]
Your souerayne lord, our prynce of might:
Ye for to sende such a citacion,
It shameth all your noughty nacion,
In comparyson but kynge Koppynge
Vnto our prince, annoynted kynge.
Ye play Hob Lobbyn of Lowdean;
Ye shew ryght well what good ye can; 60
Ye may be lorde of Locrian,—
Chryst sence[706] you with a frying pan!—
Of Edingborrow and Saint Ionis towne:
Adieu, syr sumner, cast of youre crowne!
When the Scot was slayne.
Continually I shall remember
The mery moneth of September,
With the ix[707] daye of the same,
For then began our myrth and game;
So that now I haue deuysed,
And in my minde I haue comprysed, 70
Of the prowde Scot, kynge Jemmy,
To wryte some lyttle tragedy,
For no maner consyderacion
Of any sorowful lamentacion,
But for the special consolacion
Of all our royall Englysh nacion.
Melpomone,[708] O Muse tragediall,
Vnto your grace for grace now I call,
To guyde my pen and my pen to enbybe!
Illumyn me, your poete and your scrybe, 80
That with myxture of aloes and bytter gall
I may compounde confectures for a cordiall,
To angre the Scottes and Irysh keteringes withall,
That late were discomfect with battayle marcyall.
Thalia, my Muse, for you also call I,
To touche them with tauntes of your armony,
A medley to make of myrth with sadnes,
The hartes of England to comfort with gladnes:
And now to begyn I wyll me adres,
To you rehersynge the somme of my proces. 90
Kynge Jamy, Jemmy, Jocky my jo,[709]
Ye[710] summond our kynge,—why dyd ye so?
To you nothing it dyd accorde
To summon our kynge, your soueraygne lord.
A kyng, a sumner![711] it was great wonder:
Know ye not suger and salt asonder?
Your sumner to saucy, to malapert,
Your harrold in armes not yet halfe experte.
Ye thought ye dyd yet valyauntly,
Not worth thre skyppes of a pye: 100
Syr skyrgalyard, ye were so skyt,
Your wyll than ran before your wyt.
Your lege ye layd and your aly
Your frantick fable not worth a fly,
Frenche kynge, or one or other;
Regarded ye[712] should your lord, your brother.
Trowid ye, Syr Jemy, his nobul grace
From you, Syr Scot, would turne his face?
With, Gup, Syr Scot of Galawey!
Now is your pryde fall to decay. 110
Male vryd was your fals entent
For to offende your presydent,
Your souerayne lord most reuerent,
Your lord, your brother, and your regent.
In him is fygured Melchisedec,
And ye were disloyall Amalec.
He is our noble Scipione,[713]
Annoynted kynge; and ye were none,
Thoughe ye vntruly your father haue slayne.
His tytle is true in Fraunce to raygne; 120
And ye, proud Scot, Dunde, Dunbar,
Pardy, ye were his homager,
And suter to his parliament:
For your vntruth now ar ye shent.
Ye bare yourselfe somwhat to bold,
Therfore ye lost your copyehold;
Ye were bonde tenent to his estate;
Lost is your game, ye are checkmate.
Vnto the castell of Norram,
I vnderstande, to sone ye came. 130
At Branxston more and Flodden hylles,
Our Englysh bowes, our Englysh bylles,
Agaynst you gaue so sharpe a shower,
That of Scotland ye lost the flower.
The Whyte Lyon, there rampaunt of moode,
He ragyd and rent out your hart bloode;
He the Whyte, and ye[714] the Red,
The Whyte there slew the Red starke ded.
Thus for your guerdon quyt ar ye,
Thanked be God in Trinite, 140
And swete Sainct George, our ladies knyght!
Your eye is out; adew, good nyght!
Ye were starke mad to make a fray,
His grace beyng out of the way:
But, by the power and might of God,
For your owne[715] tayle ye made a rod.
Ye wanted wit, syr, at a worde;
Ye lost your spurres, ye lost your sworde.
Ye myght haue buskyd you to Huntley bankys;
Your pryde was peuysh to play such prankys: 150
Your pouerte coude not attayne
With our kynge royal war to mayntayne.
Of the kyng of Nauerne ye might take heed,
Vngraciously how he doth speed:
In[716] double delynge so he did dreme,
That he is kynge without a reme;
And, for example ye[717] would none take,
Experiens hath brought you in suche a brake.
Your welth, your ioy, your sport, your play,
Your bragynge bost, your royal aray, 160
Your beard so brym as bore at bay,
Your Seuen Systers, that gun so gay,
All haue ye lost and cast away.
Thus fortune hath tourned you, I dare well saye,
Now from a kynge to a clot of clay:
Out of your[718] robes ye were shaked,
And wretchedly ye lay starke naked.[719]
For lacke of grace hard was your hap:
The Popes curse[720] gaue you that clap.
Of the out yles the roughe foted Scottes, 170
We haue well eased them of the bottes:
The rude ranke Scottes, lyke dronken dranes,
At Englysh bowes haue fetched theyr banes.
It is not fytting[721] in tower and towne
A sumner[722] to were a kynges crowne:
Fortune on you therfore did frowne;
Ye were to hye, ye are cast downe.
Syr sumner, now where is your crowne?
Cast of your crowne, cast vp your crowne!
Syr sumner, now ye haue lost your crowne. 180
Quod Skelton laureate, oratoure to the Kynges most royall estate.
Scotia,[723] redacta in formam provinciæ,
Regis parebit nutibus Angliæ:
Alioquin, per desertum Sin, super cherubim,
Cherubin, seraphim, seraphinque, ergo, &c.
[699] Skelton Laureate against the Scottes] The following pieces, called forth by the battle of Flodden, and the lines on the Battle of the Spurs annexed to them, are from the ed. of Kynge and Marche of Certaine bokes compyled by mayster Skelton, n. d., collated with the same work, ed. Day, n. d., ed. Lant, n. d., and with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s Workes, 1568.
[700] Branxton] Day’s ed. “Branxion.”
[701] Floddon] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “Folddon.”
[702] not] Lant’s ed. “nat.”
[703] to] Not in Lant’s ed.
[704] synge] Marshe’s ed. “sin.”
[705] syght] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “fight.”
[706] sence] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “fence.”
[707] ix] Eds. “xi.”
[708] Melpomone] Other eds. “Melnomone.”
[709] jo] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “ioye.”
[710] Ye] So Lant’s ed. Not in other eds.
[711] sumner] Here and in next line but one, Marshe’s ed. “summer.”
[712] ye] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “you.”
[713] Scipione] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “Scripione.”
[714] ye] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “you.”
[715] owne] Not in eds. of Day, and Marshe.
[716] In] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “An.”
[717] ye] Eds. “he.”
[718] your] So Lant’s ed. Not in other eds.
[719] starke naked] So Lant’s ed. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Day, “starke your naked.” Marshe’s ed. “starke all naked.”
[720] curse] Eds. “cures.”
[721] fytting] Other eds. “sytting” and “sitting,” which, perhaps, Skelton wrote, as he elsewhere uses the word.
[722] sumner] Marshe’s ed. “summer,” here, and in the concluding line.
[723] Scotia] Eds. “Scotica.”
VNTO DIUERS PEOPLE THAT REMORD THIS[724] RYMYNGE AGAYNST THE SCOT JEMMY.
I am now constrayned,
With wordes nothynge fayned,
This inuectiue to make,
For some peoples[725] sake
That lyst for to iangyll
And waywardly to wrangyll
Agaynst this my makynge,
Their males therat shakynge,
At it reprehending,
And venemously stingynge, 10
Rebukynge and remordyng,
And nothing according.
Cause haue they[726] none other,
But for that he was brother,[727]
Brother vnnatural
Vnto our kynge royall,
Against whom he dyd fighte[728]
Falsly agaynst all ryght,
Lyke that vntrue rebell
Fals Kayn agaynst Abell. 20
Who so[729] therat pyketh mood,
The tokens are not good
To be true Englysh blood;
For, yf they vnderstood
His traytourly dispyght,
He was a recrayed knyght,
A subtyll sysmatyke,
Ryght nere an heretyke,
Of grace out of the state,
And died excomunycate. 30
And for he was a kynge,
The more shamefull rekenynge
Of hym should men report,
In ernest and in sport.
He skantly loueth our kynge,
That grudgeth at this thing:
That cast such ouerthwartes
Percase haue hollow hartes.
Si veritatem dico, quare non creditis mihi?
[724] this] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Lant, “his.”
[725] peoples] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “people.”
[726] haue they] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “they haue.”
[727] brother] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “hys brother.”
[728] fighte] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “syght.”
[729] Who so] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “But who so.”
CHORUS DE DIS[730] CONTRA SCOTTOS[731] CUM OMNI PROCESSIONALI FESTIVITATE SOLEMNISAVIT HOC EPITOMA XXII DIE SEPTEMBRIS, &c.
Salve, festa dies, toto resonabilis ævo,
Qua Scottus Jacobus, obrutus ense, cadit.
Barbara Scottorum, gens, perfida, plena malorum,
Vincitur ad Norram, vertitur inque fugam.
Vasta palus, sed campestris, (borie memoratur
Branxton more), Scottis terra perosa fuit.
Scottica castra fremunt Floddun sub montibus altis,
Quæ valide invadens dissipat Angla manus.
Millia Scottorum trusit gens Anglica passim;
Luxuriat tepido sanguine pinguis humus: 10
Pars animas miseri miseras misere sub umbras,
Pars ruit in foveas, pars subiit latebras.
Jam quid agit Jacobus, damnorum germine[732] cretus?
Perfidus ut Nemroth, lapsus ad ima[733] ruit.
Dic modo, Scottorum dudum male sane malorum
Rector, nunc regeris, mortuus, ecce, jaces!
Sic Leo te rapidus, Leo Candidus, inclytus ursit,
Quo Leo tu[734] Rubeus ultima fata luis.
Anglia, due choreas; resonent tua tympana, psallas;[735]
Da laudes Domino, da pin vota Deo. 20
Hæc laureatus Skeltonis, regius[736] orator.
[730] Dis] So eds. of Day, and Marshe. Other eds. “Dyd.”
[731] Scottos] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “Scottes.”
[732] germine] Eds. “gremine.”
[733] ima] Eds. “iam.”
[734] tu] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “in.”
[735] tympana, psallas] Qy. “tympana psalmis?”
[736] regius] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “Regine.”
CHORUS DE DIS, &C. SUPER TRIUMPHALI VICTORIA CONTRA GALLOS, &C. CANTAVIT SOLEMNITER HOC ELOGIUM IN PROFESTO DIVI JOHANNIS AD DECOLLATIONEM.
Salve, festa dies, toto memorabilis ævo,
Qua rex Henricus Gallica bella premit.
Henricus rutilans Octavus noster in armis
Tirwinnæ gentis mœnia[737] stravit humi.
Sceptriger Anglorum bello validissimus Hector,
Francorum gentis colla superba terit.
Dux armis nuper celebris, modo dux inermis,
De Longville modo dic quo tua pompa ruit?
De Clermount clarus dudum dic, Galle superbe,
Unde superbus eris? carcere nonne gemis? 10
Discite Francorum gens cætera capta, Britannum
Noscite magnanimum, subdite vosque sibi.
Gloria Cappadocis, divæ milesque Mariæ,
Illius hic sub ope Gallica regna reget.
Hoc insigne bonum, divino numine gestum,
Anglica gens referat semper, ovansque canat.
Per Skeltonida laureatum, oratorem regium.
[737] mœnia] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “menit.”
VILITISSIMUS[738] SCOTUS DUNDAS ALLEGAT CAUDAS CONTRA ANGLIGENAS.
Caudatos Anglos, spurcissime Scote, quid effers?
Effrons es, quoque sons, mendax, tua spurcaque[739] bucca est.
Anglicus a tergo
caudam gerit;
est canis ergo.
Anglice caudate,
cape caudam
ne cadat a te.
Ex causa caudæ
manet Anglica
gens sine laude.
Diffamas patriam, qua non
est melior usquam.
Cum cauda plaudis dum
possis, ad ostia pultas[740]
Mendicans; mendicus eris,
mendaxque bilinguis,
Scabidus, horribilis, quem
vermes sexque pedales
Corrodunt misere; miseris[741]
genus est maledictum.
Skelton, nobilis poeta.
Gup, Scot,
Ye blot:
Laudate
Caudate,
Set in better
Thy pentameter.
This Dundas,
This Scottishe as,
He rymes and railes
That Englishmen haue tailes. 10
Skeltonus laureatus,
Anglicus natus,
Provocat Musas
Contra Dundas
Spurcissimum[742] Scotum,
Undique notum,
Rustice fotum,
Vapide potum.
Skelton laureat
After this rate 20
Defendeth with his pen
All Englysh men
Agayn Dundas,
That Scottishe asse.
Shake thy tayle, Scot, lyke a cur,
For thou beggest at euery mannes dur:
Tut, Scot, I sey,
Go shake thy[743] dog, hey!
Dundas of Galaway
With thy versyfyeng rayles 30
How they haue tayles.
By Jesu Christ,
Fals Scot, thou lyest:
But behynd in our hose
We bere there a rose
For thy Scottyshe nose,
A spectacle case
To couer thy face,
With tray deux ase.
A tolman[744] to blot, 40
A rough foted Scot!
Dundas, sir knaue,
Why doste thow depraue
This royall reame,
Whose radiant beame
And relucent light
Thou hast in despite,
Thou donghyll knyght?
But thou lakest might,
Dundas, dronken and drowsy, 50
Skabed, scuruy, and lowsy,
Of vnhappy generacion
And most vngracious nacion.
Dundas,
That dronke asse,
That ratis and rankis,
That prates and prankes
On Huntley bankes,
Take this our thankes;
Dunde, Dunbar,[745] 60
Walke, Scot,
Walke, sot,
Rayle not to far.
[738] Vilitissimus] So, perhaps, Skelton wrote; but qy. “Vilissimus?”—This poem from Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s Workes, 1568.
[739] spurcaque] Ed. “spureaquæ.”
[740] pultas] Ed. “pultes.”
[741] miseris] Ed. “miseres.”
[742] Spurcissimum] Ed. “Norpacissimum.”
[743] thy] Qy. “thé?” but see notes.
[744] tolman] See notes.
[745] Dunde, Dunbar] Ed. “Dunde bar.”
ELEGIA[746] IN SERENISSIMÆ PRINCIPIS ET DOMINÆ, DOMINÆ MARGARETÆ NUPER COMITISSÆ DE DERBY, STRENUISSIMI REGIS HENRICI SEPTIMI MATRIS, FUNEBRE MINISTERIUM, PER SKELTONIDA LAUREATUM, OBATOREM REGIUM, XVI. DIE[747] MENSIS AUGUSTI, ANNO SALUTIS MDXVI.
Aspirate meis elegis, pia turma sororum,
Et Margaretam collacrymate piam.
Hac sub mole latet regis celeberrima mater
Henrici magni, quem locus iste fovet;
Quem locus iste sacer celebri celebrat polyandro,
Illius en genitrix hac tumulatur humo!
Cui cedat Tanaquil (Titus hanc super astra reportet[748]),
Cedat Penelope, carus Ulixis[749] amor:
Huic[750] Abigail, velut Hester, erat pietate secunda:
En tres jam proceres nobilitate pares! 10
Pro domina, precor, implora, pro principe tanta
Flecte Deum precibus, qui legis hos apices.
Plura referre piget, calamus torpore rigescit,
Dormit Mecænas, negligitur probitas;
Nec juvat, aut modicum prodest, nunc ultima versu
Fata[751] recensere (mortua mors reor est).
Quæris quid decus est? decus est modo dicier hircus;[752]
Cedit honos hirco, cedit honorque capro.
Falleris ipse Charon; iterum surrexit Abyron,
Et Stygios remos despicit ille tuos. 20
Vivitur ex voto: mentis præcordia tangunt
Nulla sepulcra ducum, nec monumenta patrum;
Non regum, non ulla hominum labentia fato
Tempora, nec totiens[753] mortua turba ruens.
Hinc[754] statuo certe perituræ parcere chartæ,
Ceu Juvenalis avet[755] eximius satirus.
Distichon execrationis in phagolœdoros.
Qui lacerat, violatve rapit præsens epitoma,
Hunc laceretque voret Cerberus absque mora!
Calon,[756] agaton, cum areta. Re. in pa.
Hanc tecum statuas dominam, precor, O sator orbis,
Quo regnas rutilans rex sine fine manens!
[746] Elegia, &c.] From Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s Workes, 1568, collated with the piece as given in Reges, Reginæ, Nobiles, et alii in Ecclesia Collegiata B. Petri Westmonasterii sepulti, &c., 1603, 4to.
[747] die] Not in Marshe’s ed.
[748] reportet] So Reges, &c. Marshe’s ed. “reportat.”
[749] Ulixis] Reges, “Ulyssis.”
[750] Huic] Eds. “Hec” and “Hæc.”
[751] Fata] So Reges. Marshe’s ed. “Facta.”
[752] hircus] So Reges, &c. Marshe’s ed. “hircum.”
[753] totiens] Reges, &c. “toties.”
[754] Hinc] So Reges, &c. Marshe’s ed. “Hunc.”
[755] avet] Eds. “ouat.”
[756] Calon, &c.... pa.] Placed after the next two lines in Reges, &c.
Why were ye[757] Calliope embrawdred with letters of golde?
SKELTON LAUREATE, ORATO. REG. MAKETH THIS AUNSWERE, &C.
Calliope,
As ye may se,
Regent is she
Of poetes al,
Whiche gaue to me
The high degre
Laureat to be
Of fame royall;
Whose name enrolde
With silke and golde 10
I dare be bolde
Thus for to were.
Of her I holde
And her housholde;
Though I waxe olde
And somdele sere,
Yet is she fayne,
Voyde of disdayn,
Me to retayne
Her seruiture: 20
With her certayne
I wyll remayne,
As my souerayne
Moost of pleasure,
Maulgre touz malheureux.
[757] Why were ye, &c.] These pieces on Calliope from Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s Workes, 1568.