DÉBUT DU SECOND CHANT

( Il a 730 vers.) ,

Oh truth ! inmortal daughter of the skies , Too lyttle known to wryters of thèse daies , Teach me y fayre saincte ! thy passynge urorthe to pryze, To blâme a friend and give a foeman prayse.

The fickle moone , bedeckt wythe syWer rays , Leadynge a traine of starres of feeble lyghte , With look adigne ^ the worlde belowe surreies , The world , that wotted ' not it could be nyghte ;

» Of digntty.

» Knew.

176 SUR LES OGVYRES

Wyth armour dyd * , with human gore ydeyd ' , She sees Kynge Harolde stande, fayre Ënglands curse and pryde.

With aie and yernage ^ drunk his souldiera lay ; Hère was an hynde , anie an erlie spredde ; Sad keepynge of their leaders natal daie !

This even in drinke , too morrow with the dead ! Thro , everie troope disorder reer'd her hedde ; Danoynge and heideigneci * was the onlie thème ; Sad dôme was theires, who lefte this easie bedde, And wak'd in torments from so sweet a dream.