Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/274

primus miles.

Sir, note this that I will say;

That Lord who maketh corn with hay
And morrows each of yesterday,
He hath you in his hand.

secundus miles. (Paganus quidam).

By Satan I hold no such thing;

For if wine swell within a king
Whose ears for drink are hot and ring,
The same shall dream of wine-bibbing
Whilst he can lie or stand.

queen bersabe.

Peace now, lords, for Godis head,

Ye chirk as starlings that be fed
And gape as fishes newly dead;
The devil put your bones to bed,
Lo, this is all to say.

secundus miles.

By Mahound, lords, I have good will

This devil's bird to wring and spill;
For now meseems our game goes ill,
Ye have scant hearts to play.

tertius miles.

Lo, sirs, this word is there said,

That Urias the knight is dead