Et rex illos idcirco subdet servituti:
Serviet æterno qui parvo nesciet uti.]
Translation.—I playing prepare a harp for those who desire to play; I set forth a wonderful matter concerning the malice of the world; I will tell nothing that is noxious, but will relate a historical incident; I write a new satire, yet let it not on that account sow anger.—Anger moves the minds of the soldiers of the present day, since the weak detract from the praise of the deeds of the strong; yet let not teeth of the detractors scare thee: if you live well, you need not care for what evil men say.—[If anger last, it turns into malice; malice if not restrained drives people into rage; rage shortens our days, by bringing us into anguish; anger breeds hatred, whilst concord nourishes love.—The love which was in the world is gone, and poison has taken its place; out of hatred has sprung no small plague; the homicide has raised his standard; nothing is sharper than envy, and nothing more wicked.—There is nothing more wicked than an envious man, as every one knows; for his unhappiness increases with the prosperity of his neighbour; he pines away by the very cause which brings profit to the just man. Unless the vessel be clean, whatever you pour in becomes soured.—In order, therefore, that the minds of the wicked may be soured, I will relate what I have learnt of the deeds of the English. Henceforward I will not fear the words of the envious. If you live well, you need not care for what evil men say.]—It is the property of wicked men always to say evil, to detract from the able, to respect the vile. I am unwilling that you should be disturbed by the fear of such men; it is praiseworthy in the prudent to be abused by the wicked.—For the wicked are displeased by rectitude of life: the law is injured in them, and they esteem strife as a joke. The repose of ribalds is inquietude; to attempt to convert fools is, as it were, to put cold iron on the anvil.—Every one strikes cold iron, who counsels the obstinate man to desert his sins; for the wise man says very sensibly, “he sows words in the wind who preaches to a madman.”—Every where are preached the fraudulent actions of the faithless men, who molest England by force of arms; the French, Scotch, and Welsh, whose power may the Omnipotent who holds the world repress!—May the Governor of the universe whom we address as God, who protected the Hebrew people through many difficulties, give the English victory over their enemies! The butler can furnish liquor to a thousand men.—As the butler at will gives drink to many, so the Lord gives strength at his will to those whom he has chosen; Edward the noble King knows this; and he labours to devote himself entirely to Christ.—Edward our King is entirely devoted to Christ; he is quick to pardon, and slow to vengeance; he puts to flight his adversaries like a leopard; the reputation of the fool stinks, the just man smells sweet as spikenard.—Like spikenard smells the fame of the King of the English, who represses the attempts of his enemies; him let all the enemies of the English fear: often the mastiff snatches the sheep from the wolves’ jaws.—In the wolves’ jaws the English have been of late; for, when all the turbulent chiefs of Wales were reduced, the Scotch raise their spears armed in their rags: a few years exhibit the wonderful fortune of John.—John being now King of Scotland, clement and chaste, governing the kingdom as though he had been bred a king, him at length the pride of his nation deposed. The first-created was an exile, driven from his pious seat.—He, however, was deservedly exiled, for, as I have read, he promised homage to the English King; afterwards he declined the verb frango (I break); by breaking all which I had promised, (said he,) I performed my agreement.—The aforesaid prince broke his promise, when he did not restrain the attempts of the wicked; a voice was heard in Rama, weeping and lamentation; a remiss master makes lazy servants.—By slack servants the King is dishonoured; holiness is overthrown, the law is made of no avail; there is frequent sedition, the peace is endangered. Cursed be the house, where every dependent is master!—When the dependant commands, and the prince is a servant, then the state is in danger, and quietness departs. O how many people impiety, when unpunished, injures! The impious man unpunished always thinks that he conquers.—The twelve rulers of Scotland thought that they could resist the great valour of the English; therefore many of them fell by the sword. Said the toad to the harrow, “cursed be so many rulers!”—Many rulers under such a diminutive leader conspire against the English, whilst the king was at peace; at length they meet with standards raised. Great rivers take their rise from a small fountain.—From small fountains great rivers arise; so it is with the wanton attempts of the people of Scotland. Many thereupon are led captives: whenever the kings run wild, it is the subjects who suffer.—The subject populace perished in battle at Dunbar, where the Scotch were slain by the flail of the English. You might see the carcases, as in the shambles of a seller of refuse meat, cut off from the kilted rabble.—The kilted people, numerous and savage, who are accustomed to detract from the Englishmen, fell at Dunbar, and now stink like a dog: thus do fools, who are tormented by vain glory.—Vain glory made the deceitful people deny the true lord of Scotland; but after the battle they seek peace. Sometimes fortune makes a wise man of a fool.—He is wise in battle who yields to his superior; but the wild people of Scotland soon break their faith. No one can take away what nature gave: the disease which is rooted in the bone, can seldom be expelled from the flesh.—The noble king departed, sparing so great a mass of populace; he traversed Scotland with a crowd of attendants. The English fortify castles, by the king’s command; for that hurts less which we have provided against.—The wars are governed by the king’s providence; the Scottish nobles are subdued to the English; judges are appointed, the laws are revised; for the laws themselves require to be regulated aright.—The king appointed a worthy man to the government of the kingdom, John de Warenne, whom he had often proved. He to the utmost of his power observed the laws; destroying the proud, he placed the humble in peace.—The king, after these things had been performed, returned in peace, preparing to aid gratuitously the Count of Flanders; he prepares a great fleet as quickly as he can; banish delay, to those who are prepared it is always injurious to procrastinate.—Nor was there any delay, for the cunning Scots meet together; with their hands on the gospels, they have said that from their station in the south they will not pass the Trent: little is owing to pleasure, more to safety.—The Scottish nobles all swear with alacrity, and their boundaries are limited to each by the king; see that they be not perjured, and fall into the net; for the poets sing wonderful things that are not to be believed.—Then the king, wonderfully credulous in them, passed the sea, and powerfully warred against the French in Flanders; unmindful of old age, he was not terrified by numbers. He flourishes by counsel, to whom nature has denied strength.—The Lord has not denied strength and vigour to the king, whom he ordained to be the flower of the world; whose acts excite everybody’s wonder; for his mind is capable of undergoing every labour.—A new labour arises; Satan is raised up; the fidelity of the Scots disappears entirely; the valour of the English is undeservedly set at nought. What everybody says, does not rest upon our opinion.—The abandoned scoffers hold mutual conversations; “Lo! triumphant garlands are given to the English. O William de Wallace! send us to them: arrows can penetrate the hard mail.—Let us call together all our archers; let us hasten together against the Guardian of Scotland. For it is right that we should fight for our country: we often see the conqueror overcome by the vanquished.”—Accordingly the Guardian of Scotland is very hard pressed; and the people assemble at Stirling, proud in spirit; treachery destroys the English, and they are on the brink of ruin: the end does not correspond with the beginning.—The Earl, who was leader of the English, first passed the bridge, penetrating boldly into the Scotish columns; but he was driven back by treachery, and not by the force of arms: fraud is often the cause of many evils.—Fraud caused the English to blush, whilst they saw on all sides the blood of their own people flowing; Levenax and Richard Lundi are convicted of fraud. How short is the joy, and how lasting the sorrow, of the world!—O perfidiousness of the world! who is not astonished by thee? Treachery lies hid, concealed among our household; the cunning man is always opposed to the peaceful; the shepherd leads his sheep with a staff, the wolf threatens them with his mouth.—What does the barbarous brutal and foolish race threaten? Will this perfidy remain unavenged? The King of England will come with open force, inquiring much about Priam and much about Hector.—The proud people raise a heap of evils for themselves, provoking the English to the bitter contest; words will cease, when the blows come; though you think you have finished entirely, there is a snake concealed in the grass.—[“The sun,” they say, “will not be concealed from us with his light; the time is come when the English will all fall by our hands; no one....” The Divine power plays with the prospects of men.—O power of God! I petition thee in favour of thy people! come with a propitious countenance to the aid of the English; judge the king’s cause, and give him grace: thou who art without beginning, do not let falseness triumph.]—After this the leader of the plot calls together his party, knowing that our king would be gone over the sea; he made an order to ravage Northumberland: “we oft see,” says he, “weeping after joy.”—Northumberland, much desolated, may weep! She is made as a widow robbed of her children. Vescy, Morley, Somerville, Bertram are dead: Alas! of how many, and how great men in every part is she widowed!—In her, since she is a widow, the troops of the Scots reduce the estates of many to cinders. William Wallace is the leader of these savages; the rejoicings of fools breed increase of griefs.—To increase the wickedness which they had hitherto perpetrated, these wicked men deliver Alnwick to the flames; they run about on every side like madmen. Few are chosen, but many are called.—Many ask each other how it happened, that the Newminster was not touched by the fire. The monks promise gifts, but they do not fulfil their promise: as there was need, so was the thing carried into effect.—On this account they led away captive the prior of the monastery, whom they then found; having carried away the goods, they left the houses empty. Few are munificent, but there are many who seek after gifts.—Now the malignant people returns to Scotland; and the honour of knighthood is given to William; from a robber he becomes a knight, just as a swan is made out of a raven; an unworthy man takes the seat, when a worthy man is not by.—At length a letter reaches the worthy prince, in which the whole course of events is told. Let nobody be surprized if he was enraged at it: the sea cannot be quiet when the storm rages.—In his anger he began thus to address his knights: “Again you must prepare to fight for your country. I would rather conquer once, than be often tormented; wars are better than being troubled with lasting strife.”—“Do not be troubled,” said they, “if the Scottish thieves sharpen axes for their own heads; one Englishman will slay very many Scots. It is not the part of a man who has a beard to join mice to a little cart.”—Wallace, or Gilmaurus, is scarcely better than a mouse, to whose victory the laurel will never grow; for they want strength and treasure: a bull who has lost his horns is the more eager for the war.—On St. Magdalen’s day the wretches fall in battle; the king subdues in the field near a hundred thousand; the meadows are covered with their carcases. The wicked hate sin from the fear of punishment.—Scared by the fear of punishment the tyrant turns his back, whom the short jacket once pleased; faithless in the day of battle he flies like a truant. One day often gives what the whole year denies.—In one day many wretches were slain; and the English pursue the Scots who had fled; they are transfixed with spears, and robbed of their clothes. The white thorns are cut down, while the black bilberries are gathered.—Wallace, thy reputation as a soldier is lost; since thou didst not defend thy people with the sword, it is just thou shouldst now be deprived of thy dominion.
But, in my view, thou wilt always be the ass thou wert formerly.—Thou wilt pass into a lasting proverb; thy kingdom is divided, and cannot stand; thy people now drink of the cup which thou hast prepared. He who turns others into derision, will not escape being derided.—O laughable thing, that has been manifested in our time! Fortune will play in various ways. The prince has been turned into an outcast, Judah into Jebus. The Divine power plays with the prospects of men.—Things being brought to this pass, the king searches the country, and hunts the thieves out of their hiding places; every one who is found is put to the sword: justice requires this, that the punishment come after the fault.—[Next the king returns, that he may marry Queen Margaret, the flower of the French; through her the kingdoms receive a more complete peace. Anger begets slaughter, concord nourishes love.—When love buds between great princes, it drives away bitter sobs from their subjects; and now a firm peace is negotiated by frequent messengers: for by these things grace makes people friends.—It is just that the Scots should have a small portion of grace, because the impious people have neither peace nor quiet of mind. Comyn, Carrick, Umfraville raise their standards: there is nothing more sharp than envy, nor more wicked.—The nation, voluntarily wicked, will not be obedient; it forces the illustrious king with his army to return; now they fear who neglect to come to peace, lest they perish languishingly by the sword of dire death.—Let them perish utterly both fathers and sons; unless they quickly give their feet to flight, flying they desert their towns and houses: the child Ganymedes drives about the hares on mount Ida.—In the midst of these transactions the King of France, sending without delay, asks an honourable truce of the King of England. The king accedes to his request, soon afterwards turning his reins: the grateful hour will arrive when it is least expected.—Who knows not that that would be the best hour for the Scots, in which the sword ceases from the weeping commonalty, and the king unites and honours the nobles. While it is warm and fair weather, the ant labours.—After all these warlike labours, the English like angels are always conquerors, they are more excellent than the Scotch and Welsh; you will learn people’s manners by contemplating their lives.—As though a swine should resist the valour of the lion, so the filthy Scots attack England; and the king for that reason reduces them to slavery: he will ever be a slave, who cannot be content with the little which Providence has given him.]
The following verses seem to have been written immediately after John Baliol had retired to Normandy, in 1290. In the manuscript, they are accompanied by a picture representing a ship, full of people, passing the sea.
ON THE DEPOSITION OF BALIOL.
[From MS. Cotton. Julius, A. V. fol. 2, ro. of beginning of 14th cent.]
Ecce dies veniunt Scoti sine principe fiunt;