Classic Poem

An incident of the lorde of the see, kynge Edwarde the thredde.

Of kynge Edwarde I passe, and his prowesse
On londe, on see, ye knowe his worthynesse.
The siege of Caleise, ye wott welle alle the mater,
Rounde aboute by londe and by the water,
How it lasted, not yeres many agoo,
After the bataille of Crecy was idoo;
How it was closed environ aboute,
Olde men saue it whiche leyvn, this is no doute.
Olde knyghtis sey that the duke of Burgoyne,
Late rebuked for all his golden coyne,
Of shipp and see made no besegynge there,
Ffor wante of shippes that durste not come for fere.
It was no thynge beseged by the see,
Thus calle they it no seage for honeste.
Gonnes assayled, but assaute was there none,
No sege, but fuge, welle was he that myght gone,
This manere carpynge have knyghtes ferre in age,
Experte of olde this manere langage.
But kynge Edwarde made a sege royalle,
And wanne the toune, and in especialle
The see was kepte, and thereof he was lorde,
Thus made he nobles coigned of recorde.
In whose tyme was no navey in the see
That myght wythstonde of hys mageste.
Bataylle of Sluce ye may rede every day,
How it was done, I leve and go my way;
Hit was so late done that ye it knowe,
In comparisone wythine a lytel throwe.
Ffor whiche to God yeve we honoure and glorye,
Ffor lorde of see the kynge was wyth victorie.