The Poems of John Skelton

SHORTER POEMS

SHORTER POEMS

ON THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND

[From Marshe's ed. of Skelton's Works, 1568, collated with a copy of the poem in a MS. vol. now in the British Museum (MS.Reg 18 D ii fol. 165,) which formerly belonged to the fifth Earl of Northumberland, son of the nobleman whose fate is here lamented. This elegy was printed by Percy in his Reliques of An. Eng. Poetry (i. 95, ed 1794,) from the MS. just mentioned.]

POETA SKELTON LAUREATUS LIBELLUM SUUM METRICE ALLOQUITUR

Ad dominum properato meum, mea pagina, Percy,
Qui Northumbrorum iura paterna gerit;
Ad nutum celebris tu prona repone leonis
Quaeque suo patri tristia iusta cano.
Ast ubi perlegit, dubiam sub mente volutet
Fortunam, cuncta quae malefida rotat.
Qui leo sit felix, et Nestoris occupet annos;
Ad libitum cuius ipse paratus ero. <1>

SKELTON LAUREATE
UPON THE DOLOROUS DEATH AND MUCH LAMENTABLE CHANCE OF THE MOST
HONOURABLE EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND

<2>

I WAIL, I weep, I sob, I sigh full sore
The deadly fate, the doleful destiny
Of him that is gone, alas, without restore,
Of the blood royal descending nobly;<3>
Whose lordship doubtless was slain lamentably
Through treason, again him compassed and wrought,
True to his prince in word, in deed, and thought.

Of heavenly poems, O Clio called by name
In the College of Muses goddess historial,
Address thee to me, which am both halt and lame 10
In elect utterance to make memorial!
To thee for succour, to thee for help I call,
Mine homely rudeness and dryness to expel
With the fresh waters of Helicon's well.

Of noble acts anciently enrolled
Of famous princes and lords of estate,
By thy report are wont to be extolled,
Registering truly every former date;
Of thy bounty after the usual rate
Kindle in me such plenty of thy noblesse 20
These sorrowful ditties that I may show express.

In seasons past, who hath heard or seen
Of former writing by any precedent
That villein haskards in their furious teen,
Fulfilled with malice of froward intent,
Confettered together of common consent
Falsely to slay their most singular good lord?
It may be registered of shameful record.

So noble a man, so valiant lord and knight,
Fulfilled with honour, as all the world doth ken; 30
At his commandment which had both day and night
Knights and squires, at every season when
He called upon them, as menial household men:
Were not these commons uncourteous carls of kind<4>
To slay their own lord? God was not in their mind!

And were not they to blame, I say, also,
That were about him, his own servants of trust,
To suffer him slain of his mortal foe?
Fled away from him, let him lie in the dust;
They bode not till the reckoning were discussed; 40
What should I flatter? what should I glose or paint?
Fie, fie for shame, their hearts were too faint.

In England and France which greatly was redoubted,
Of whom both Flanders and Scotland stood in dread,
To whom great estates<5> obeyed and louted,
A meiny of rude villeins made him for to bleed;
Unkindly they slew him, that holp them oft at need:
He was their bulwark, their pavis, and their wall,
Yet shamefully they slew him; that shame may them befall!

I say, ye commoners, why were ye so stark mad? 50
What frantic frenzy fell in your brain?
Where was your wit and reason ye should have had?
What wilful folly made you to rise again
Your natural lord? alas, I cannot feign:
Ye armed you with will, and left your wit behind:
Well may ye be called commons most unkind!