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impregnable, they began to be seriously alarmed, and sent ambassadors to treat with him for their safe retreat, in case they were not relieved by the dauphin on a certain day, which they would make known to him.

Among them was the lord de Gamaches, who treated for the surrender of the town of Compiègne, of which he was governor, and for the fortresses of Remy, Gournay sur Aronde, Mortemer, Neufville in Hez, Tressousart, and others in that district. He also gave hostages to deliver them up to such commissaries as the two kings should appoint, on the 18th day of June following. Sir Louis de Thiembronne made a similar treaty for the garrison of the town of Gamaches, on condition of their having passports to retire whithersoever they pleased with their arms and baggage, and that the inhabitants were to remain in peace, on taking the oaths of allegiance.

Through the management of Pierron de Luppel, the strong castle of Montagu surrendered to the two kings, which fortress had kept a large tract of country under subjection from its strength; and its garrison had done much mischief to the towns of Rheims and Laon, and the adjacent parts. On the other hand, those in the castle of Moy, hearing of all these conquests, and fearing lest sir John de Luxembourg and the English should unexpectedly besiege them, set fire to it, and withdrew to Guise. In like manner were the castles of Montescourt and Brissy destroyed.

CHAPTER CCLXI.-THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND RETURNS TO FRANCE IN GRAND STATE.-AN ASSEMBLY OF THE THREE ESTATES IS HELD IN PARIS.-OTHER MATTERS.

On the 21st day of May in this year 1422, Catherine queen of England, who had been some time recovered of her lying-in of her first-born child Henry, arrived at Harfleur in

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grand state, attended by ladies without number, and escorted by a large fleet filled with men-at-arms and archers under the command of the duke of Bedford, brother to the king.

On landing, she went to Rouen, and thence to the castle of Vincennes, to meet the king. Queen Catherine travelled in royal state, alway accompanied by the duke of Bedford and the men-at-arms.

King Henry departed from Meaux with his princes to meet her, and she was received by them as if she had been an angel from heaven. Great rejoicings were made by the king and queen of France for the happy arrival of their son-in-law and their daughter; and on the 30th day of May, Whitsun-eve, the kings of France and of England, accompanied by their queens, left Vincennes, and entered Paris with much pomp. The king and queen of France were lodged at the hôtel of St. Pol, and the king of England and his company at the Louvre. In each of these places, the two kings solemnly celebrated the feast of Pentecost, which fell on the day after their arrival.

On this day, the king and queen of England were seated at table gorgeously apparelled, having crowns on their heads. The English princes, dukes, knights, and prelates, were partakers of the feast, each seated according to his rank, and the tables were covered with the rarest viands and choicest wines. The king and queen this day held a grand court, which was attended by all the English at Paris; and the Parisians went to the castle of the Louvre to see the king and queen at table crowned with their most precious diadems; but as no meat or drink was offered to the populace by the attendants, they went away much discontented; for in former times, when the kings of France kept open court, meat and drink was distributed abundantly to all comers by the king's servants.

King Charles had indeed been as liberal and courteous as his predecessors, but he was now seated in his hôtel of St. Pol at table with his queen, deserted by the grandees and others of his subjects, as if he had been quite forgotten. The government and power of the kingdom were now transferred from his hands into those of his son-in-law king Henry; and he had so little share, that he was managed as the king of England pleased, and no attention was paid him, which created much sorrow in the hearts of all loyal Frenchmen, and not without cause. During the king of England's residence at Paris, he ordered the tax of silver to be collected, for the coinage of new money, in the manner before described. This gave rise to great murmurings and discontent; but, from dread of king Henry, the Parisians dared not show any other signs of disobedience and rebellion than by words.

CHAPTER CCLXII.-THE KINGS OF FRANCE AND ENGLAND GO FROM PARIS TO SENLIS.— THE SIEGE OF SAINT VALERY.-THE REDUCTION OF COMPIEGNE.-AN EMBASSY SENT TO SIR JAMES DE HARCOURT.

THE two kings, with their queens and attendants, departed from Paris and went to Senlis, where they made some stay. As the day for the surrender of Gamaches was near at hand, the king of England sent the earl of Warwick thither with three thousand combatants; and, according to the terms of the treaty, he entered the town on the 18th of June. Having delivered back the hostages safe and well, he received the oaths of allegiance from the inhabitants, in the name of the two kings, and then appointed sir John Felton, an Englishman, governor, with a sufficient garrison of men-at-arms and archers. Having finished this business, the earl of Warwick marched for St. Valery, which was in the possession of the Dauphinois. When he was near the town, he sent forward the van of his army to reconnoitre the place; but the garrison made a sally, of a hundred picked men-at-arms well mounted, who instantly attacked the English, and a sharp conflict ensued, in which many were killed and wounded, and some prisoners taken from the English.

While this was passing, the earl hastened the march of his army to the support of the van, which forced the Dauphinois to retreat within their town. The earl marched round part of the town with his army, and quartered some of his men in the monastery, and the rest in tents and pavilions. After this he caused his engines to play incessantly on the walis, and damaged them in many places. With regard to the frequent sallies of the garrison, I shall, for brevity' sake, pass them over; but, as the town was open to the sea,

from the besiegers' want of shipping to blockade the port, the garrison and inhabitants could go whither they pleased for provisions, to Crotoy or elsewhere, to the great vexation of the earl of Warwick.

The earl sent to the ports of Normandy for vessels; and so many came that the harbour of St. Valery was shut up, to the grief of the besieged, who now lost their only hope of holding out the town. In consequence, at the end of three weeks or thereabout, they made a treaty with the earl to surrender on the fourth day of September, on condition of being allowed to depart safely with their baggage, should they not be relieved before that day by the dauphin. During this time, the besieged were to abstain from making any inroads, and from foraging the country; and to deliver sufficient good hostages to the earl for the due performance of the articles of this treaty, who, after this, returned with the English to king Henry. The king of England sent also his brother the duke of Bedford, and others of his princes, grandly accompanied, to the town of Compiègne, to receive it from the hands of the lord de Gamaches, who had promised to surrender it to the duke on the 18th day of June.

The lord de Gamaches marched from Compiègne with about twelve hundred combatants, and, under passports from the king of England, conducted them across the Seine to the dauphin. In like manner did the lord de Gamaches yield up the other forts before mentioned according to his promises. Thus were all the places which the Dauphinois had held between Paris and Boulogne-sur-Mer subjected to the obedience of the two kings, excepting the town of Crotoy and the territory of Guise. When the duke of Bedford had received oaths of allegiance from the burghers and inhabitants of Compiègne, and nominated sir Hugh de Lannoy governor thereof, he returned to his brother the king at Senlis.

At this time, ambassadors were sent by the two monarchs to sir James de Harcourt in Crotoy they were his brother the bishop of Amiens, the bishop of Beauvais, sir Hugh de Lannoy master of the cross-bows of France, with a herald from king Henry, to summon sir James to yield up the town of Crotoy to their obedience; but, notwithstanding their diligence and earnestness, they could not prevail on him to consent, nor to enter into any sort of treaty.

CHAPTER

CCLXIII.-THE KING OF ENGLAND GOES FROM SENLIS TO COMPIEGNE.-THE CAPTURE OF THE TOWN OF SAINT DIZIER.-A CONFLICT BETWEEN THE DAUPHINOIS AND BURGUNDIANS.

Ar this period, the king of England went from Senlis to Compiègne to see the town. While there, he received intelligence that a plot had been formed to take the town of Paris, through the means of the wife of one of the king of France's armourers. She was discovered one morning very early by a priest who had gone to his garden without the walls, speaking earnestly with some armed men in a valley under his garden. Alarmed at what he saw, he instantly returned to the gate of Paris, told the guard what he had seen, and bade them be careful and attentive. The guard arrested the woman and carried her to prison, where she soon confessed the fact. This intelligence made king Henry return to Paris with his men-at-arms, where he had the woman drowned for her demerits, as well as some of her accomplices: he then returned to the king of France at Senlis.

About this time, sir John and sir Anthony du Vergy gained the town of St. Dizier in Pertois; but the Dauphinois garrison retired to the castle, wherein they were instantly besieged. La Hire, and some other captains, hearing of it, assembled a body of men for their relief; but the two above-mentioned lords, learning their intentions, collected as large a number of combatants as they could raise, and marched to oppose them; when they met, they attacked them so vigorously that they were defeated, with about forty slain on the field the rest saved themselves by flight. After this, the lords du Vergy returned to the siege of the castle of St. Dizier, which was soon surrendered to them; and they regarrisoned it with their people.

HERE FOLLOW THE COMPLAININGS OF THE POOR COMMONALTY AND LABOURERS OF FRANCE.

{Translated by my friend, the Rev. W. Shepherd, of Gateacre in the County of Lancaster.]

"Ah, princes, prelates, valiant lords,
Lawyers and tradesfolk, small and great!
Burghers and warriors girt with swords,
Who fatten on our daily sweat!
To labouring hinds some comfort give:
Whate'er betide, we needs must live.

But live we cannot long, we trow,
If God deny his powerful aid
Against the poor man's cruel foe,
Who doth our goods by force invade,
And, flouting us with pride and scorn,
Beareth away our wine and corn.

No corn is in our granary stored,
No vintage cheers our heavy hearts,
But once a week our wretched board
Scant fare of oaten bread imparts;
And when we raise the asking eye,
The rich from our distresses fly.

But fly not think how ye offend
Who shut your ears against our cry.
And oh! some gracious succour lend,
Or else with want we surely die.
Oh hear and on our wasted frame
Have pity, lords! in JESUS' name.

Pity our faces, pale and wan,
Our trembling limbs, our haggard eyes!
Relieve the fainting husbandman,
And Heaven will count you truly wise.
For God declares to great and small,
Who lacketh kindness, lacketh all.

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Yea, Christians, sons of God we be !
Your brethren too, who trust in wealth,
And think not that at Heaven's decree
Gold disappears by force or stealth.
Rich tho' ye be, to death ye bow:
Ye little wis, or when, or how.

How dare ye say, what oftentimes
Ye utter in a thoughtless mood,
That want we suffer for our crimes,
That misery worketh for our good?
For CHRIST his sake, no more say so
But look with pity on our woe.
Our woe regard, and ne'er forget
That ye subsist upon the toil
Of weary labourers,—and yet
Their scanty goods ye daily spoil.
Yea, thus ye act, of what degree,
Estate, or rank soe'er ye be.

Be then advised, and bear in mind
That perish'd are our little gains,
Whilst no protecting master kind
Vouchsafes to pay us for our pains.
But if we longer thus are shent,
Believe us, lords! ye will repent.

Repent ye will, or late or soon,
If from our plaints ye turn away:
For your tall towers will tumble down,
Your gorgeous palaces decay :
Sith true it is, ye lordly great,
We are the pillars of your state.

The pillars of your state do crack:
Your deep foundations turn to dust:
Nor have ye prop or stay, alack!
In which to put your steadfast trust.
But down ye sink without delay,
Which make us cry, 'Ah, welladay!'

Ah, welladay! ye bishops grave,
Lords of the faith of Christian folk,
Naked and bare, your help we crave,
The wretched outcasts of your flock.
For love of God, in charity

Remonstrate with the rich and proud,
That tho' they raise their heads so high,
They are maintained by the crowd,
Whose bread perforce they take away,
And make us cry, Ah, welladay!'

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Ah, welladay! great king of France,
Remember our unhappy lot:
Long have we borne our sad mischance,
And patient are we still, God wot!
But if you do not soon apply
Choice remedies to our distress,
Eftsoons our tens of thousands fly,
In foreign lands to seek redress.
And when from hence we haste away,
'Tis you will cry,' Ah, welladay!'

Ah, welladay! good prince, beware;
For thoughtless kings, in days of yore,
Who for their subjects did not care,
By loss of lands were punish'd sore.
Are you not sworn to work our weal?
Bid, then, our sore vexations cease:
Humble the proud with prudent zeal,
And grant us safety, grant us peace:
So shall we no more need to say,
In grief of heart, Ah, welladay!'

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Ah, welladay! ye lords so great, Whose counsels guide our sovereign king, Who rule each province of the state, To him our tale of sorrow bring. The keys of this fair realm you hold, Then bid him pass the just decree, (Assisted by his barons bold,) Which from our woes may set us free. Thus underneath his gentle sway, No more we'll sing, Ah, welladay Ah, welladay! ye counts so brave, In dread we bear your heavy thralls. While rain pours down and winds do rave, We stand upon your castle-walls. And while, with night's all-piercing dew So numb and cold, we keep the guard, Your captains beat us black and blue, Swearing we sleep upon our ward And all because we sorrowing say, In murmurs low, 'Ah, welladay!' Ah, welladay! thus beaten sore, Full many a crown we needs must pay, To fill that maw which craves for more, While insolence oppressive sway More bitter renders!-but is this The claim of reason or of right? Ah, simple are ye, well we wis, Who proudly deal us such despite ! Simple, in sooth; or ye would say, Pitying our moan, Ah, welladay!' Ah, welladay! against our will, Thus of your captains we complain; But sheep and lambs and hogs they steal And rifle all our store of grain. And if in pity ought they leave, The sergeants glean the scanty dole; And all the gear your towers receive, For shelter, pays a grievous toll. The castellan, whom thus we pay, Recks not our cry, 'Ah, welladay!' Ah, welladay! what end of trouble! When royal taxes are decreed, We tillers of the land pay double, Albeit in times of greatest need, Your men-at-arms, like hungry thieves Prowl through our fields with sharpen'd eye, And drive and slay our fattest beeves! Or if protection ye supply,

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Both gold and grain therefore we pay.
Well may we then sing 'Welladay!'

Ah, welladay! ye men-at-arms,
Little it boots us to complain,
Albeit ye multiply our harms,

And seize perforce our stacks of grain.
But well I wot that frost and snow
Shall be the guerdon of your crimes,
And ravenous Death shall lay you low,
As Pharaoh fell in elder times.
Then shall we smile, nor longer say,
In grief of heart,' Ah, welladay !'
Ah, welladay! ye lawyers grave,
Your simple clients to embroil,
A subtle web of quirks ye weave,
And fill your purses by our spoil.
Thus do you, by your dark deceit,

Make wrong seem right, and right seem wrong,
While artless husbandmen ye cheat,
And all our woes and griefs prolong,
When you should join our doleful lay,
And cry with us, Ah, welladay!'

VOL. I.

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Ah, welladay! ye tradesfolk all
Who sold your paltry wares so dear,
But grudged our gains so scant and smal,
Whene'er ye purchased of our gear.
Your knavery and your wicked lies,
Your tricks and violated troth
Shall surely meet their due emprise,
When God descends in vengeful wrath,
Then will ye curse your wealth, and say,
In fear of heart, 'Ah, welladay!'

Ah, welladay! ye craftsmen too,
Farriers, and wights that curry skins :
Your grinding avarice ye shall rue,
When judgment falls upon your sins.
The glibness of your glosing tongue
Has fleeced us worse than usury,
Though victims of your cunning wrong,
Aye doomed to meagre misery.
For you we work for wretched pay,
Which makes us cry, 'Ah, welladay!'

Ah, welladay! full well ye know,
When we have sown our yearly seed,
From driving rain, and frost and snow,
And all the vermin wars do breed,
What ills our rising crop betide.
Alas! our hoards of pulse and corn,
The toiling peasant's joy and pride,
Those vermin to their holes have borne:
There while they heap their stores of prey
Well may we sigh, ‘Ah, welladay!'

Ah, welladay! if sooth we sing,
Wherefore your pardon should we crave?
Our doleful state your hearts should wring,
For nought can we from pillage save.
Our sleekest beeves, our fairest kine,
Which fed us with their milky store,
Our fleecy sheep, and fatted swine,
Are vanish'd to return no more ;
And when we miss them, well we may
Cry out, Alas! and welladay!'

Ah, welladay! Can folks who wear
The form of men, and have a soul,
Behold us through the frosty air
Begging, in rags, the scanty dole?
For all is gone: the hungry Scot
And haughty Spaniard, in their turn,
Have stripp'd us to the skin, God wot!
And left us to lament and mourn.
Hear then our dismal tale, nor say
For nought we cry, 'Ah, welladay!'

Oh, holy church! Oh, noble king!
Sage counsellors, and soldiers brave,
Lawyers, and tradesfolk, thus we bring
To you our plaints so sad and grave.
For GOD, and for his mother's sake,
Attend with pity to our cries,
And on our state compassion take,
Else will ye see, with weeping eyes,

I I

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