654 
Horfa. 
Hengift. 
Harfa. 
Hengift. 
More Reliques of Rowley. 
Horfa, the die is cafte: tyde lyfe tyde dethe 
We fyghte the Bryayanes. 
Yatte fhuld come to paffe 
I well did wote, when inne the mees benethe 
I fawe hem ftillie trong to heare the maffe. 
We’lle halde a maffe ov wepens on the graffe. 
T have made fytte our menne. Thee they awayte. 
Be notte the lafte. 
As theie the hylle forlaffe 
Hyte hem downtomble cragges ov myghtye weyte ; 
So fhul the fcythed waynes unethe our folke abayte. 
Hor fa. 
Hengift. 
(The Skaldes 
See fee a fireme ov Brydyanes fylles the vale, 
And poures inne fparklynge furquedrie ylong. 
Wyth ftrakes ov fiverdes wele reckon up theire tale. 
Go calle the fkaldes to braye the battayle fong. 
Mayde, here remayhe thou wyth the halie trong, 
Whyles we do tende benethe the bufie fyghte. 
Melongs to dyve the fea of wounds ymong. 
Unperegalle to daie thul be oure myghte. 
flande befyde Calle here mie merrie frendes, I mofte inhaunce their {pryghte. 
Hengift, whyle 
ceriayne iroopes 
paffin bye.) 
Sythence oure natale Saxen iles we lacke, 
And covetous ov renome Brydayne haunte 
Fro perylle payne and fyghte we torne not backe 
Ethe do we fcorne for battayle onelie paunte. 
We hadde achevde ov fpacyous fhyres the graunte, 
And weende to reere the comelie hames ov refte : 
Thefe trechers now theire plyghted gyfte recaunte 
Watte theie bie unryghte from oure grafpe do wrefte 
‘Wynne we ayen bye force and twyfolde be poffefte. 
Youre toyles youre travayles I have ever borne: 
Mie wrothe and mie unyeeldynge bofome fhare. 
Backe to oure londfmenne fhamefollie to torne 
‘Wythoute the meede for wyche we forthe didde fare— 
Certes the tyngue ov fcorne fhuld us bifmare, 
And modhers deep-befhamde dheire fons foryete.— 
Affe onn a clevis brymme ye fyghte your gare 
Flee and a falle down {maitryng rockes doth threte 
Wynne and the lond abeute fhul crouche benethe your feete, 
I marke the lowe ov daryng lyfte youre brefte, 
And ghatte Difmaie to youer playne doth wende. 
The gaudie trappynges ov the foemen’s vefte 
Are well to plonder evylle to defende. 
Lo where theyre fheenie rankes doen fhyverynge trende— 
‘There lette us repe the harveft ov the {werde, 
There to the bathe ov bloodde the trechours fende. 
Ov gofhynge gore the well-hedes be unfperde 
And thro the fcared fkyen the wepens thoner herde. 
Lyche harmleffe lemes yatte blizze atte harveft-tyde 
And ore the theenie welkin flickerynge firaie ; 
Syk idlie thul the foemens anlace glyde 
Bye nervelefe Brydyan hondes ytaughte to plaie. : 
Lyche dynne ov mountayne-ftreme oure glayves fhul braie 5 
Dartes evyl-wyngde amydde theire rankes thul fare, 
Meinie as raynedroppes inne a ftormie daie ; 
Lyche the brode fuane yatte welkes in midewde are, 
Cure fheeldes fhul boden dethe, ydyghte in bloodie glare. 
Now 
