The Famous Historie: Cap. Xi Poem by Patrick Gordon

The Argument.
Hells damnd fiends finds Scots renouned King
And by three theeues works him a niew dispight,
To God he praies who graunts his iust designe.
Through deserts wild alone he flies by night,
He findes his men at last, whom he doth bring.
On his proud foe who slawghterd fear's his might
Winter maks both their Camps brak vp at last
At hunts greate Bruce a fearfull danger past.


Infernall Pluto Missing his Intent
Began to rore his voice his words confound
From whoes foull throat such thundring noise forthwent
As schook the hel resovnding throw the ground
His Bowells deip a mistie smook foorth sent
Which made the Soules in endles Torments bond
To dive in floods and in the flams to hide them
Eschewing paine whill greater paines abide them,


His dreadfull looks effrayd the feinds and Ghosts
Chokt with the savour of his noysum breath
Like fleghts of Crows Hell musters forth her hosts,
From Herebus with horor feare and death,
In clouds of daungers on our Northern coasts,
They raine the bloodie tempests of theire wrath
And scatred here and there, they soon untwinde
The webs of Woe, wouen in each sinfull minde


And one of them eu'ne then did hap to light
On Robbers thrie that in this forrest lay
Wheirthrou the valiant Bruce had tane his flight
Him [illeg.] they whom they count an easie pray
For which greate Eduard ritche rewards had heght
Wheirfore their Treassone thus they did essay
Myldlie they come vnto that noble Prence
And vous to spend their lives in his defence.


They Scotts-men war by right his subiects too
Which to their treasoun ads more credit still
Dark night to shroud the rest which they wold doo
Heauins siluer walls with sabill hingings fill
Within this fortest stood a Schiphirds croo
No other ludging were they neir vntill
Thither those theius this noble Prince furth guid
And with their Schift a supper soone prouid.


When hee right pleasandlie hand tane repast
Of viands such as tyme wold then affoord
On the cold earth he lays him doune at last
A sheld for pillow serud this noble Lord
When thousand cairfull thoghts were ouerpast
Sleips charning rod of silence him restord
Vnto a slumber, soft but whill he lay
He thoght he hard a voice him threatning say.


Though careles of they self heauins for thee care
Vp vp arise from daunger the defend
Whaerat he starts aloft begines to stare
When as he seis com from the houssis end
The Robbers thrie that with their swords prepare
Death on his Knight and him in sleip to send
But with his sword he their designment braks
And with his foot his faithfull knight awaiks,


Yet or he could arise one of the thrie
Vnto him step't and with his trenshant blad
He forc'd his soull furth from his brest to flie
Which in the Prince both greif and anger bred
And in his wrathe his death so venged he
That of these Traitours thrie he soone was red
Then thanks he God who saift him from that snare
And thence depairts loadned with greif and care.


Wheir as his horse was feiding their he goes
Whill as the darknes sum what cleirer greu
And being monted then no way he knoes
And yet from thence him self he soone with dreu
Yea oftentims him self him self did lose
In desarts wyld in paths but vsed by feu
Reuoluing still within his troubled thoght
What greuons cair's proud fortun had him wroght


At last beseching his great Lord of Grace
To pitie him and confort to him send
His earnest praier cleius heauins starrie face
And at Jous throne for mercie did attend
Whoe bends his gratious eies on mortalls race
Vieuing their woes their waiknes weill he kend
The splendour of his glorious countenance
Cleir's heaune and earth and chaisd hells feinds fare hence.


Earth fred of such a sinfull Burthen vild
Begins to smill on heauins all glorious sphear's
When from the Prince all sorou was exyld
Confort from heauin to his sad soule repair's
His faith had broght from his deir saueour mild
Assured hope of what his soule requear's
Now to that place he goes the neirest way
Wheir he appointed all his men to stay.


When bright Auror her treasurs had furthsought
She edgd the siluer clouds with freing's of gold
And hangs the skies, with Arras rarely wroght
Powdred with Paarle and pretious stones vntold
Then roses reid and whit from inde she broght
And strou'd heauins floor most glorious to behold
Yet weips she for she thinks it all to small
To welcum great Apollo to her hall.


Ere Sole could shine his way did him restor
Wheir Edward and the Douglas did abide
With all his troups that scattred wer befor
With whome the Prince doth secretlie prouide
For to assalt his foes so proud of yore
For them he cairles kneu dispersed wide
Disordred quite and scatterd heir and their
Nor for him wold they look nor for him care.


They all agrie yet thus he wold them cheir
Braue frends (quod he) behold this happie day
That shall the clouds of oure disasters cleir
And bring the Garland from oure foes away
Me thinks I sie fair victorie appeir
To croune vs that triuphms on their decay
And their hot blood ritch trophes vs aduances.
Borne on the points of oure victorious lances.


Me thinks vpone oure glistring creste I sie
The glorious garland of the conquest worne
Whill fether-futted-fame before vs flie
Vpone the golden wings of Honor borne
Altho nor ours their numbers greater be
Yet fear them not Jehoua heighe hath sworne
To yeild them in your hands that ye may steip
Your thristie blaids in blood whill as they sleip


This said from heauen reflected on his face
A lightning beame bright shining pure and cleir
His countinance shind with such heaunilie grace
As lightned all about both farr and neir
a Martiall furie in his breist took place
Whoes sparkling did his eies with lightning cheir
So that his gallant port and gracefull looks
The bold conferms the faint with shame rebooks.


A Guide he got whoe broght him wheir they lay
Encamped in a fair and open plane
And or the glorious soun could guilt the day
Four hundreth he had wounded hurt and slane
For these before the camp a littel way
Within a village cairles did remane
Yea eu'ne the camp at last they did perseu
And their with slaughter did the fight reneu


The fire yet stay'd within his assie coath
When they began the camp for to invaid
Sleip rest or silence eurie one did touch
And heir and their they lay disordered
Some were a sleip of wine that drunk too much
And some with cards and some with dice wer led
Some lasie lubbards quafd carrousis deip
Till eurie drink began an endles sleep


Whill thus they ly thois warreours enter in
Too strik Iustiriars for to pairt the fray
The wine and blood both foorth togidder rin
From bak from brest or side eu'ne as they lay
Half words confoosd their hollow throts within
Made billowing nois their blood their breath did stay
Some rise to strik some op's their, mouth to chide
Those fall and these with blood chokt gasping diede


Thus whill eche sword dislodg'd a hundreth liues
Braue Bruce made knowne his rancour wrath and ire
Squadrons he kills cuts cords and tents he riu's
And for reuenge enflam'd with hote desire
To ouerthrou them all alone he strius
To kill the men and set the camp on fire
And foreward still allone he Murthring goes
giuing more deaths then wounds more wounds then bloes


But as a hungrie Lion for his foode
Kills thousand beasts mo then he can deuore
So thou stout Edward doth their liues seclude
Whom thy braue Brothers haist had past before
And tredding proudlie on the multitude
Thou seemest sad becaus thou findst no more
Whereon to exerceis thy valor so
Wishing eche trunk could raise a stronger foe.


Now at an vther Parte doth enter in
The conquering knight that dreidful slaughter maks
So from the west the drying winds begin
To cleir heauins cloudie front and stronglie braks
The spoungie bann exhal'd vp by the Sunne
Furth of the Germane laik which Æoll taks
Vpone his wings and mousters forth in hosts
Wheir with he threats to droun the northern costs.


Eu'ne so this campioun driueth bak by force
The multitude of armed Squadrons strong
His warlik wepon kill's without remorse
His eies such firie splendor dairts along
As burns their hearts but fear concealls their lose
All turning baks forget to venge their wrong
And cairles of their shame their fame their fall
They lose their liues their honor hope and all.


And he that to gainestand will proue so bold
As not to flie but brauelie beare it out
Soone lyis he breathles tumbling on the mold
Which in the rest conferms their fear and doubt
Thus foreward none his furie can with hold
Till with his Lord he meits wheir all the rout
Assembled were and weareid nou with killing
The souldiers disperst the tents were pilling.


But Scots greate king who saw them cairles, care
More for their gaine then conquest to prolong
Causd sound retreat least some neu force repare
And bring the conquest backe with shame and wrong
By this the English Generall did prepare
Of armed knights aboue fiue thousand strong
But this braue Lord in time reteird his crew
Whill as they had no lust for to persew.


The worthie Bruce thus haueing payd his foe
Of that disgrace which he had lait receau'd
He was both lou'd and fear'd and hatit so
As the iust worth of his greate deids had crau'd
Yea Englands warlick Generall thogth iu woe
Extold him much when he his worth perceau'd
Swearing by Joue that heauins decred to raise him
And in the midst of hate was forcd to praise him.


Wheirfore he breaketh vp his camp that night
Letting his Soldiers to their home reteire
The mightie Scot to Carrick marcheth right
And soiorns their the deade time of the yeare
Wheir noght befell him worthie to reciet
Saif once he went a hunting of the Deare
For their hee thoght no foes could harme afford
Since all that land obeyd him as their Lord.


Now being much delighted with that sport
His warlik knights were neir about him still
One day vnto an forrest they resort
The hart and hind with Grewhounds for to kill
And he allone stai'd in a priuat sort
With two swift hounds aboue them on a hill,
Till all the rest were scattred farr and niere,
Rousing the woods to bring him in the deere.


While here he staied, three men he did espie
Come from the wood with awfull countenance,
Each bends a bowe and thus doth him defie,
To venge the Cumings blood is our pretence
Braue Sirs quod he then, first I praie you trie
Me with your swords, if I can make defence,
Thrie one to kill so farre were endles shame
So Cowards fight, the ualiant hates such game.


At these his words, their bows awaie they threw,
And with their swoords they sharply him assaile,
His hounds he loos'd, his sword he quickly drew,
And many bloes on either hand they deale,
The hounds that sie such foes their Lord persue
One by the gorge vnto the ground they haile,
One of the other two by this he kil'd
Then kills him whom the hounds at ground still hild


The third who fears such guerdon for to trie,
Staied not, but soon betakes himselfe to flight
Whom when these Heauen-ordained hounds espie
They follow both with kien and aufull might
And in a Trace they force him by and by
Most furiouslie vpon the ground to light
Their Lord at last from them did him reswme
And striklie giv's him his deserved doome.


When all his knights returnd they wondring view
How heavens their Prince from danger had preserv'd
To God they gaue greate thanks and Praises dew
Reioysing that so braue a Lord they serv'd
This did his fame throu all the land renew
All wish'd him now what his great worth deserv'd
Who skap'd so many Dangers they conclude
Must be reserved for a greater goode.