Classic Poem

Whan charite is chosen with states to stonde
Stedfas and skille without distaunce,
Than wrathe may be exilede out of this londe,
And God oure gide to have the governaunce.
Wisdom and wellthe, with alle plesaunce,
May rightful regne, and prosperite;
For love hath underlaide wratheful venjaunce,
Rejoise, Anglonde, oure lordes acordede to be.

Rejose, and thanke God for evermore,
For now shal encrese thi consolacion;
Oure enemyes quaken and dreden ful sore,
That peas is made ther was division.
Whiche to them is a gret confusion,
And to us joy and felicite.
God hold hem longe in every season,
That Anglonde may rejoise concord and unite.

Now is sorowe with shame fled into Fraunce,
As a felon that hathe forsworn this londe;
Love hath put out malicious governaunce,
In every place bothe fre and bonde.
In Yorke, in Somerset, as I understonde,
In Warrewike, is love and charite,
In Sarisbury eke, and in Northumbrelande,
That every man may rejoise concord and unite.

Egremown and Clifford, with other forsaide,
Ben set in the same opynyon.
In every quarter love is thus laide;
Grace and wisdom hathe thus the dominacion.
Awake, welthe, and walke in this region,
Rounde aboute in toun and cite;
And thanke them that brought hit to this conclusion;
Rejoise, Anglond, to concord and unite.

At Poules in Londoun, with gret renoun,
On oure Ladi day in Lent this peas was wrought;
The kyng, the quene, with lordes many oone,
To worship that virgine as thei ought,
Wenten a procession, and spariden right nought,
In sighte of alle the comynalte,
In token that love was in herte and thought;
Rejose, Anglond, in concorde and unite.

Ther was bytwyn hem lovely countynaunce,
Whiche was gret joy to alle that ther were;
That long tyme hadden be in variaunce,
As frendes for ever that had be in fere.
Thei wenten togeder and made goud chire.
France and Britayn repente shul thei;
For the bargayn shul thei abye ful dere;
Rejose, Anglond, in concorde and unite.

Oure soveraigne lord kynge God kepe alwey,
The quene, and the archebisshope of Canterbury,
And the bisshop of Wynchestre, chanceller of Anglonde,
And other that han labured to this love-day;
God preserve hem, we pray hertly,
And Londoun, for thei ful diligently
Kepten the peas in trowbel and adversite,
To bryng in reste thei labured ful truly;
Rejoise, Anglond, in concorde and unite.

Of thre thynges I praise the worshipful cite;
The first, the true faithe that thei have to the kynge;
The seconde, of love to the comynalte;
The thrid, goud rule for evermore kepynge;
The whiche God maynteyn evermore durynge,
And save the maier and alle the worthi cite;
And that is amys God brynge to amendynge,
That Anglond may rejoise to concorde and unite.