Classic Poem

Thenayle of thys conclusioun.

Than shulde worshyp unto oure noble be,
In feet and forme to lorde and mageste;
Liche as the seale the grettest of thys londe
On the one syde hathe, as I understonde,
A prince rydynge wyth his swerde idraue,
In the othere syde sittynge, sothe it is in sawe,
Betokenynge goode reule and ponesshynge
In verry dede of Englande by the kynge.
And hit is so, God blessyd mote he bee;
So one lyche wysse I wolde were on the see.
By the noble that swerde schulde have powere,
And the shippes one the see aboute us here.
What nedeth a garlande, whyche is made of ivye,
Shew a tavern wynelesse, also thryve I;
Yf men were wysely, the Frenshmen and Flemmynge
Shulde bere no state in see by werrynge.