Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
Anglo-Irish poems of the Middle Ages: The Kildare Poems (Author: [unknown])
Poem 13
Piers of Bermingham
{MS fol 50r}
- 1] Sith Gabriel gan grete
Vre Leuedi Mari swete,
That Godde wold in hir lighte,
A thousand yer hit isse
Thre hundred ful i-wisse,
And ouer yeris eighte.
- 7] Than of the eight yere
Tak twies ten ifere,
That wol be tuenti fulle.
Apan the tuentieth dai
Of Aueril bi-for Mai
So deth vs gan to pulle.
- 13] He pullid us of on,
Al Irlond makith mon,
Engelon ek as welle.
Ful wel ye witte his nam:
Sire Pers the Birmingham
Non nede hit is to telle.
- 19] His nam hit was and isse,
Y sigge you ful, i-wisse.
That vppe ssal arise
In felle, flesse and bone,
A better knight nas none,
No none of more prise.
- 25] Noble werrure he was,
And gode castel in place.
On stede ther he wold ride,
With his sper and scheld,
In hard wodde and feld
No thef him durst abide. {MS fol 50v}
- 31] Do thenchith al in him,
With weepin who wol win,
Hou gode he was to nede,
In batail stif to stond.
I-wis pere nas nond,
Alas, he sold be dede!
- 37] Al Englis-men that beth,
Sore now wep is deth,
That such a knight ssold falle!
Thos knightis, euchone,
Of him mai make mone,
As peruink of ham alle.
- 43] Peruink he might be,
And that for thinges thre
He vssid of and lome.
That was one of the best:
He ne leet no thef hab rest
In no stid ther he come.
- 49] An other thing al-so:
To Yrismen he was fo,
That wel wiede-whare,
Euer he rode aboute
With streinth to hunt ham vte,
As hunter doth the hare.
- 55] For whan he wend best
In wildernis hab rest,
That no man ssold ham see,
Than he wold driue a quest
Anon to har nest,
In stid ther he wold be.
- 61] Of slep he wold ham wake,
For ferdnis hi wold quake,
And fond to sculk awai.
{MS fol 51r}
For the hire of har bedde,
He tok har heuid to wedde,
And so he taght ham plai.
- 67] Thos Yrismen of the lond,
Hi swor and tok an hond
The Englis-men to trai,
And seid hi wold quelle
As fale as Ich you telle,
Al apon o dai.
- 73] The Erl of Vluester
Sire Emond the Botiler,
Sire Jon le FizTomas
Illgate al bi name;
Sire Pers the Birminghame,
This was har compas.
- 79] This compasment com vte
Fram knight to knight abute,
Hit was noght lang ihidde.
Thos knightis preid al
That meschans most ham fal,
Yif scape hi ssold ther-midde.
- 85] And swor bi God is name,
To yild the cuntre pane,
Whan hi might com to,
And that, with-vte lette,
To certain dai i-sette
This thing ssold be do.
- 91] Lang er this dai was com,
Hit was for-yit with som
That neisse beth to nede.
Alas! what ssold hi be ibor!
Throgh ham this land is ilor,
To spille ale and bred. {MS fol 51v}
- 97] Sire Pers the Birmingham,
On ernist and agam,
This dai was in is thoght.
He thoght ordres to make
What time he might ham take,
Of trauail nas him noght.
- 103] O'Konwir that was king,
His ketherin he gan bring
The maister heet Gilboie
Right at the Trinite,
Whan hodes sold best be
To Pers in Totomoye.
- 109] And yite of other stoore
Com Ethe MacMalMore,
And other fale bi name.
Sire Pers lokid vte,
He seei such a rute,
Him thoght hit nas no game.
- 115] Sire Pers sei ham com,
He receiuid al and som,
Noght on iwernd nas.
Sith hoodis he let make,
Noght on nas for-sake,
Bot al he did ham grace,
- 121] Saue o wreche that ther was.
He cuth noght red in place
Ne sing whar he com.
He was of Caym is kinne,
And he refusid him;
He wend vnhodid hom.
- 127] He that this sang let mak
For Sir Pers is sake,
Wel-wid hath igo,
Wid-whar i-soght
And god pardon i-boght,
Two hundrid daies and mo. Explicit.