Classic Poem

The Kyng of kynges regnyng ouer al.
Which stablisshid hath in eternitee
His hy might, þat nat varie he may ne shal,
So constant is his blisful deitee,
My lige lord, this grace yow graunte he,
That your estaat rial, which þat this day
Haath maad me lige to your souereyntee,
In reule vertuous continue may.

God dreede and ficche in him your trust verray;
Be cleene in herte and loue chastitee;
Be sobre, sad, iust, trouthe obserue alway;
Good conseil take, and aftir it do yee;
Be humble in goost, of your tonge attempree,
Pitous and merciable in special,
Prudent, debonaire, in mesure free,
Nat ouerlarge, ne vnto gold thral.

Be to your liges also sheeld and wal;
Keepe and deffende hem from aduersitee;
Hir wele and wo in your grace lyth al;
Gouerneth hem in lawe and equitee;
Conquere hir loue and haue hem in cheertee;
Be holy chirches champioun eek ay;
Susteene hir right, souffre no thyng doon be
In preiudice of hir, by no way.

Strengthe your modir in chacyng away
Th'errour which sones of iniquitee
Han sowe ageyn the feith, it is no nay.
Yee therto bownde been of duetee;
Your office is it now, for your seurtee,
Souffreth nat Crystes feith to take a fal.
Vnto his peple and youres cheerly see
In conseruyng of your estat real.

Syn God hath sent yow wit substancial
And kynges might, vertu putte in assay.
And lige lord, thogh my conceit be smal
And nat my wordes peynte fressh and gay
But clappe and iangle foorth, as dooth a iay,
Good wil to yow shal ther noon faille in me,
Byseechyng vnto God þat, to his pay,
Yee may gouerne your hy dignitee.Amen. Ceste balades ensuyantes feurent faites au tresnoble roy H. le Quint (que Dieu pardoint) et au tres honurable conpaignie du Iarter.

To yow, welle of honur and worthynesse,
Our right Cristen kyng, heir and successour
Vnto Iustinians deuout tendrenesse
In the feith of Ihesu, our redemptour,
And to yow, lordes of the garter, flour
Of chiualrie as men yow clepe and calle,
The lord of vertu and of grace auctour
Graunte the fruyt of your loos nat appalle.

O lige lord, þat han eek the liknesse
Of Constantyn, th'ensaumple and the mirour
To princes alle, in loue and buxumnesse
To holy chirche, o verray sustenour,
And piler of our feith and werreyour
Ageyn the heresies bittir galle,
Do foorth, do foorth, continue your socour
Holde vp Crystes baner, lat it nat falle.

This yle or this had been but hethenesse,
Nad been of your feith the force and vigour.
And yit this day the feendes fikilnesse
Weeneth fully to cacche a tyme and hour
To haue on vs, your liges, a sharp shour
And to his seruiture vs knytte and thralle.
But ay we truste in yow, our protectour.
On your constance we awayten alle.

Commandith þat no wight haue hardynesse,
Our worthy kyng and Cristen emperour,
Of the feith to despute more or lesse
Openly among peple where errour
Spryngith al day and engendrith rumour.
Makith swich lawe and for aght may befalle,
Obserue it wel therto been yee dettour.
Dooth so, and God in glorie shal yow stalle.