John Skelton - A LAUD AND PRAISE MADE FOR OUR SOVEREIGN LORD THE KING.

A LAUD AND PRAISE MADE FOR OUR SOVEREIGN LORD THE KING.

[This title (in a different handwriting from that of the poem) is the endorsement of the MS., which consists of two leaves, bound up in the volume marked B. 2. 8, (pp. 67-69) among the Records of the Treasury of the Receipt of the Exchequer, now at the Rolls House. [Printed for the first time by Dyce, from a manuscript discovered by Mr. W. H. Black.] Qy. is this poem the piece which, in the catalogue of his own writings, Skelton calls "The Book of the Rosiar," Garland of Laurel, v. 1178.

THE Rose both White and Red<1>
In one Rose now doth grow;
Thus through every stead
Thereof the fame doth blow:
Grace the seed did sow:
England, now gather flowers,
Exclude now all dolours.

Noble Henry the eight,<2>
Thy loving sovereign lord,
Of kings' line most straight,                                                                          10
His title doth record:
In whom doth well acord
Alexis young of age,
Adrastus wise and sage.

Astrea, Justice hight,<3>
That from the starry sky
Shall now come and do right,
This hundred year scantly
A man could not espy
That Right dwelt us among,                                                                          20
And that was the more wrong:

Right shall the foxes chare,<4>
The wolves, the bears also,
That wrought have much care,
And brought England in woe:
They shall worry no mo,
Nor root the Rosary
By extort treachery:

Of this our noble king<5>
The law they shall not break;                                                                        30
They shall come to reckoning;
No man for them will speak:
The people durst not creke
Their griefs to complain,
They brought them in such pain:

Therefore no more they shall<6>
The commons overbace,
That wont were over all
Both lord and knight to face;
For now the years of grace                                                                            40
And wealth are come again,
That maketh England fain.

Adonis of fresh colour,<7>
Of youth the godly flower,
Our prince of high honour,
Our paves, our succour,
Our king, our emperor,
Our Priamus of Troy,
Our wealth, our worldly joy;

Upon us he doth reign, <8>
That maketh our hearts glad,
As king most sovereign                                                                                 50
That ever England had;
Demure, sober, and sad,
And Martis' lusty knight;<9>
God save him in his right!
Amen.

Bien men sovient.<10>

Per me laurigerum Britonum Skeltonida vatem.<11>

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