So the fend hem prokede uch man to mourdren other 430
wid wille,
That al Engelond i-wis was in point to spille.
Pride prikede hem so faste, that nolde theih nevere have pes
Ar theih hadden in this lond maked swich a res,
That the beste blod of the lond shamliche was brouht to grounde,
If hit betre mihte a ben, allas! the harde stounde
bitid,
That of so gentille blod i-born swich wreche was i-kid.
Allas! that evere sholde hit bifalle that in so litel a throwe,