A letter from an Englishman at the Battle of Nancy in 1477
Missive fro Ellar Pytte to hys elder brodyr William Pytte
Salutation:
To myn welbelouid brodyr, (beloved)
Be thys lettere sone delyueryd - (delivered)
To hys hand and to no other.
Tydynggis nowe I haue to sende hym, (Tidings)
Worde of werre and tale of batayle: (war, battle)
Tho I haue ben taken prysoner,
I am wele and in good fettle. (well)
About the Duc:
Nowe herken and yow shal here
Of brave Duc Charles that were
He streken many with fere
He was hatte Charles the Bold (called)
He had noble wyffes three, (wives)
And oone fayre doughter Mary, (one, fair, daughter)
He was lord of Burgoyne,
And he had grete golde.
He was verry wyght and hardy (courageous)
And had siche lytel pitee. (very little pity)
(God kepe hym, and the Trinyty.)
Acheve it how he wold,
He wold make hym-self a kyng,
Many londes conquoryng.
(The Emperour went fleeing.) (1)
Ellar’s hiring
Good Syr John Mydelton
Hired archeres oone by oone
Sayed we wold be departing sone
Herneised, habilled, and arrayed (outfitted, clothed)
For to go across the see (sea)
To sporte Duke Burgoyne. (support)
Four marks per yere and levery, (livery)
Siche wage wold we be payd.
(Brodyr, gold can buy us catyle, (cattle)
For owr londe, tho it is lytel.
Owr arerage we can settle.) (debts)
We sailed sone, and nott taryed (soon, tarried)
Syr John at Brissellys was be-sett, (2) (beset)
But de Croy’s capteyn there we mette (3)
And we traveled onward yette
Travel to Nancy
On the dai of All Synts fest
We gathered at de Croy’s behest
And rode owt, dughti full and prest (doughty, proud)
(Those set high are sonest fallyn.)
We wenden owt vp-on owr way
As fast as euer rider may (ever)
For thirty and more nyght and dai
Sich hardiness is sowdyowres callyn (soldier’s)
In Decembre cold and bare
At Nancy sege we compeir (arrived)
And sette ous vp-on arere (the rear)
The armee: harde and ful-itowen (undisciplined)
On the euen of Christenmas (eve)
Faur hundred sowles deperte alas (Four, souls)
Ded by wynteres frozen laas (lasso)
Battle of Nancy
Twelue dai anon, the calle to arme - (later)
Archeres, pitaile and gendarme. (footsoldiers)
Renees Swechys wold do us harm. (Duke Renee’s Swiss troops)
Charles hys men did embattail (order for battle)
He sette hys gonnes well before: (cannon)
On hys flanks hys knyghtes on hors,
Ech boweman had arows three scores (60 arrows per archer)
Redy for the werres trauail. (travail)
Here I erned my archeres wage
Bent my bowe to werke domage (damage (to the enemy))
But on thay cam with grete corage
Owr valour no availl
Owr flanc yt broke, the snow was reed, (it_
Armsmen lay in ranks of dede.
Ouer the Meurthe the craven flede.
Onwardys came Duc Renees ost. (host)
Methinks thay came towardys me the most!
I drew my knyef, thoe all was lost.
Owr sheldes and owr bowes thay schred (shred)
With theire scharpe speres of stell. (steel)
Thay borne full many doun to knell (bore many down to kneel)
My felawy archeres non wold hele (fellow, heal)
Them-sylfs lay doun and bled.
A Swechys sqwyer hard and wight, (Swiss)
Stepped hym forward in the fight,
With a swerde longe and bryght,
He foughte as if a hondered.
Hys foo he denge oone by oone, (foe, smites)
Thorw armer or ryche gambisoun,
He boldly cut them to the bon. (bone (I’ve fought Jethro!))
The sqwyer raised his grete swerde heygh,
The time had com for me to dye.
I looked the sqwyere in the eye,
Ellar:
“Hilarius, belouid saint,
If yowr desire it be,
Abate thys esqwyres furie
Turn his scharpe swerde from me!”
The Swechys man pausyd at my plaint
He loured the blade with dignity
Jethro:
“Hilarus is synt to me!
Howe dorste yow calle to hym a plee? (dare)
Nowe tell me what it is yow mynt.” (meant)
Then I sank me to the ground,
Thow I had receyuyd no wond, (wound)
And my story did expound.
Ellar:
“Worshypfull and sterne lord,
I will tell yow at yowr word,
And fro thys telling take counford. (comfort)
I am callid Ellar Pytte.
An archer from Inglond I came
After Synte Hillar my name, (“Ellar” = Hillar = Hilarus)
An ancient synte of noted fame.
That is the trewth of yt.” (it)
Jethro:
The sqwyre remarked, “At Nancy siege
We clashed and foght and wreked domage,
Each pleggyd to the opposing liege. (pledged)
The time has come to quite. (quit (NB ‘tyme’ in 1450))
Yowr Duke is slayn, yowre armee fled
The grond is strewen with bothe owr ded
Thys dai has seen j-nough blode-shed.” (enough)
still Jethro:
“We Swechys do ne prysonyr take (4)
But by bothe owr Syntes sake,
My brodyr I will nowe yow make,
And noone schall that gainsey.
Jethro de Calce I hight,
Esqwiryd to Syr Mons the knyght,
Come from Glarus, here to fight. (5)
Nowe bakke home I make my wey,
To Synte Hilaryes oun valey
My dere parents for to syghe see
And yow Ellar will come with me,
As a frend and brodyr may.
And yow will be ryght welcom ther
And feste on mete and drynk good bere
And waste the wynter in grete cheer.”
Ellar:
So my tale is told, good brodyr,
By the wryttyng of thys letter.
May God kepe yow and owr mother.
I am safely in the Lindthal,
But my herte has fond ne eas.
Thow I took no herte in batyle,
I am wondyd here by peas. (peace, not little green veggies)
For there is a jentil mayden,
Mery Hilda, Jethroes sustyr,
And my herte is nowe a captive:
The Swechys mayd has taken prysoner.
(1) The Holy Roman Emperor pretended to consent to crown Duke Charles as king of Burgundy at Trier (September 1473). The ceremony, however, did not take place owing to the Emperor's precipitate flight the night before the coronation was supposed to occur, due to his dislike of the Duke. (And you think politics are bad in Caid!)
(2) One of the Paston letters recounts that Sir John Mydelton was taking men to the support of the Duke of Burgundy, but that when he landed in Brussels, he was thrown in prison. (No, I don’t know why...)
(3) Count Philip de Croy brought the last reinforcements that arrived at Nancy before the battle. His troops came from ‘the Netherlands’, so I imagined that one of his captains dropped by Brussels and sweep up Mydelton’s orphaned troops.
(4) The Swiss troops were awesome during this period, and were famous for not taking prisoners.
(5) “Glarus” is a canton in Switzerland, the name of which is a corruption of St. “Hilarus”. Jethro hales from Lindthal in Glarus.
This poem is written in Late Middle English, around 1450 – 1500. The Paston Letters were my main source for contemporary vocabulary: the English language was changing rapidly at this point and older and younger versions of the same word appear in successive letters – or sometimes even in the same letter. (Late Middle English wanted to be Shakespearian English when it grew up...which feat it accomplished.) The rhyme scheme is taken from the Middle English poem Sir Degrevant (aaabcccbdddbeee).
The Pytte brothers were mentioned in the Paston letters – in the context of a tavern. I have taken the liberty of expanding on that brief mention. In this poem, the elder brother, William, inherits the farm; the younger (somewhat ne’re do well) Ellar goes off to war as an archer. This allows me to bring (via Mydelton and de Croy) an English-speaking fighter to the Battle of Nancy in 1477, there to fight Jethro and write an account
Salutation:
To myn welbelouid brodyr, (beloved)
Be thys lettere sone delyueryd - (delivered)
To hys hand and to no other.
Tydynggis nowe I haue to sende hym, (Tidings)
Worde of werre and tale of batayle: (war, battle)
Tho I haue ben taken prysoner,
I am wele and in good fettle. (well)
About the Duc:
Nowe herken and yow shal here
Of brave Duc Charles that were
He streken many with fere
He was hatte Charles the Bold (called)
He had noble wyffes three, (wives)
And oone fayre doughter Mary, (one, fair, daughter)
He was lord of Burgoyne,
And he had grete golde.
He was verry wyght and hardy (courageous)
And had siche lytel pitee. (very little pity)
(God kepe hym, and the Trinyty.)
Acheve it how he wold,
He wold make hym-self a kyng,
Many londes conquoryng.
(The Emperour went fleeing.) (1)
Ellar’s hiring
Good Syr John Mydelton
Hired archeres oone by oone
Sayed we wold be departing sone
Herneised, habilled, and arrayed (outfitted, clothed)
For to go across the see (sea)
To sporte Duke Burgoyne. (support)
Four marks per yere and levery, (livery)
Siche wage wold we be payd.
(Brodyr, gold can buy us catyle, (cattle)
For owr londe, tho it is lytel.
Owr arerage we can settle.) (debts)
We sailed sone, and nott taryed (soon, tarried)
Syr John at Brissellys was be-sett, (2) (beset)
But de Croy’s capteyn there we mette (3)
And we traveled onward yette
Travel to Nancy
On the dai of All Synts fest
We gathered at de Croy’s behest
And rode owt, dughti full and prest (doughty, proud)
(Those set high are sonest fallyn.)
We wenden owt vp-on owr way
As fast as euer rider may (ever)
For thirty and more nyght and dai
Sich hardiness is sowdyowres callyn (soldier’s)
In Decembre cold and bare
At Nancy sege we compeir (arrived)
And sette ous vp-on arere (the rear)
The armee: harde and ful-itowen (undisciplined)
On the euen of Christenmas (eve)
Faur hundred sowles deperte alas (Four, souls)
Ded by wynteres frozen laas (lasso)
Battle of Nancy
Twelue dai anon, the calle to arme - (later)
Archeres, pitaile and gendarme. (footsoldiers)
Renees Swechys wold do us harm. (Duke Renee’s Swiss troops)
Charles hys men did embattail (order for battle)
He sette hys gonnes well before: (cannon)
On hys flanks hys knyghtes on hors,
Ech boweman had arows three scores (60 arrows per archer)
Redy for the werres trauail. (travail)
Here I erned my archeres wage
Bent my bowe to werke domage (damage (to the enemy))
But on thay cam with grete corage
Owr valour no availl
Owr flanc yt broke, the snow was reed, (it_
Armsmen lay in ranks of dede.
Ouer the Meurthe the craven flede.
Onwardys came Duc Renees ost. (host)
Methinks thay came towardys me the most!
I drew my knyef, thoe all was lost.
Owr sheldes and owr bowes thay schred (shred)
With theire scharpe speres of stell. (steel)
Thay borne full many doun to knell (bore many down to kneel)
My felawy archeres non wold hele (fellow, heal)
Them-sylfs lay doun and bled.
A Swechys sqwyer hard and wight, (Swiss)
Stepped hym forward in the fight,
With a swerde longe and bryght,
He foughte as if a hondered.
Hys foo he denge oone by oone, (foe, smites)
Thorw armer or ryche gambisoun,
He boldly cut them to the bon. (bone (I’ve fought Jethro!))
The sqwyer raised his grete swerde heygh,
The time had com for me to dye.
I looked the sqwyere in the eye,
Ellar:
“Hilarius, belouid saint,
If yowr desire it be,
Abate thys esqwyres furie
Turn his scharpe swerde from me!”
The Swechys man pausyd at my plaint
He loured the blade with dignity
Jethro:
“Hilarus is synt to me!
Howe dorste yow calle to hym a plee? (dare)
Nowe tell me what it is yow mynt.” (meant)
Then I sank me to the ground,
Thow I had receyuyd no wond, (wound)
And my story did expound.
Ellar:
“Worshypfull and sterne lord,
I will tell yow at yowr word,
And fro thys telling take counford. (comfort)
I am callid Ellar Pytte.
An archer from Inglond I came
After Synte Hillar my name, (“Ellar” = Hillar = Hilarus)
An ancient synte of noted fame.
That is the trewth of yt.” (it)
Jethro:
The sqwyre remarked, “At Nancy siege
We clashed and foght and wreked domage,
Each pleggyd to the opposing liege. (pledged)
The time has come to quite. (quit (NB ‘tyme’ in 1450))
Yowr Duke is slayn, yowre armee fled
The grond is strewen with bothe owr ded
Thys dai has seen j-nough blode-shed.” (enough)
still Jethro:
“We Swechys do ne prysonyr take (4)
But by bothe owr Syntes sake,
My brodyr I will nowe yow make,
And noone schall that gainsey.
Jethro de Calce I hight,
Esqwiryd to Syr Mons the knyght,
Come from Glarus, here to fight. (5)
Nowe bakke home I make my wey,
To Synte Hilaryes oun valey
My dere parents for to syghe see
And yow Ellar will come with me,
As a frend and brodyr may.
And yow will be ryght welcom ther
And feste on mete and drynk good bere
And waste the wynter in grete cheer.”
Ellar:
So my tale is told, good brodyr,
By the wryttyng of thys letter.
May God kepe yow and owr mother.
I am safely in the Lindthal,
But my herte has fond ne eas.
Thow I took no herte in batyle,
I am wondyd here by peas. (peace, not little green veggies)
For there is a jentil mayden,
Mery Hilda, Jethroes sustyr,
And my herte is nowe a captive:
The Swechys mayd has taken prysoner.
(1) The Holy Roman Emperor pretended to consent to crown Duke Charles as king of Burgundy at Trier (September 1473). The ceremony, however, did not take place owing to the Emperor's precipitate flight the night before the coronation was supposed to occur, due to his dislike of the Duke. (And you think politics are bad in Caid!)
(2) One of the Paston letters recounts that Sir John Mydelton was taking men to the support of the Duke of Burgundy, but that when he landed in Brussels, he was thrown in prison. (No, I don’t know why...)
(3) Count Philip de Croy brought the last reinforcements that arrived at Nancy before the battle. His troops came from ‘the Netherlands’, so I imagined that one of his captains dropped by Brussels and sweep up Mydelton’s orphaned troops.
(4) The Swiss troops were awesome during this period, and were famous for not taking prisoners.
(5) “Glarus” is a canton in Switzerland, the name of which is a corruption of St. “Hilarus”. Jethro hales from Lindthal in Glarus.
This poem is written in Late Middle English, around 1450 – 1500. The Paston Letters were my main source for contemporary vocabulary: the English language was changing rapidly at this point and older and younger versions of the same word appear in successive letters – or sometimes even in the same letter. (Late Middle English wanted to be Shakespearian English when it grew up...which feat it accomplished.) The rhyme scheme is taken from the Middle English poem Sir Degrevant (aaabcccbdddbeee).
The Pytte brothers were mentioned in the Paston letters – in the context of a tavern. I have taken the liberty of expanding on that brief mention. In this poem, the elder brother, William, inherits the farm; the younger (somewhat ne’re do well) Ellar goes off to war as an archer. This allows me to bring (via Mydelton and de Croy) an English-speaking fighter to the Battle of Nancy in 1477, there to fight Jethro and write an account
Previous comments... You are currently on page 2.
Interestingly enough, the words that 'worked' were almost all more similar to modern English than they were to Chaucerian ME. I had not realized that 1477 was so close to being Shakespeare's English.
Jan
where our crazy language was, then. . very much
like th3s3 kinds of things!!! -- j
.
reading something like this is a special challenge!!! -- j
.
I've been told I would have difficulty communicating in English with rural English folk.
Come to think of it (this just popping into my head), there is a made by the Brits Jason Statham gangster movie with a Liverpool dialect that is hard to follow.
Being hard of hearing, I'm talking about the freaking subtitles!
I remember a few years ago on a bus ride across Ohio, a guy got on board in Cincinnati and got off in Dayton. Sat next to me. He was this sharply dressed "Super Fly" type of black American - replete with fancy rings, striped suit, fancy shoes, cocked hat, etc. We talked a bunch for roughly an hour. Ultimately, neither of us had much of a clue what the other was saying, but had a great time, and parted with smiles. Made me appreciate June Cleaver being able to translate Jive!
In all seriousness though, I find it tough too read versions of old English like this - If - you get hung up on trying to mentally repeat and translate every syllable. Ever seen those e-mail circulations where they give you a garbled and horribly misspelled English paragraph, but you can read it fine anyway in a speed reading sort of way? I find that works on a piece like this.
If you went back to 1477 in a time machine in England, you'd have trouble communicating in English. Bet that will be true here 500 years in the future.
You never see that happen in time travel movies.
Thanks for your comments. I am pleased that you made a go at reading my poem.
Jan
free to delete. . hahaha!
dad was an unusual guy. . his parents were very
modestly financed, being teachers, and he did the
paper route and picking-up-bottles thing to help
with the family bucks . . . during the depression.
born in 1916, he was a teenager then. . he went
to the university to study botany because he loved
the mountains, the trees particularly. . then, as he
was working at sears, ww2 came along. . he was
promoted to lt col in the philippines, as a personnel
officer. . he married a high-class southern belle
whom he met during the war. . having inherited
the tidy sum of 300 dollars, he intimated once that
he was proud to have taken that nest egg and
turned it into more than 500 thousand in net worth.
he still wore sears workaday clothes and
hushpuppies. . we lived in a fine part of town in
a house which cost 13.5k in 1952;;; we had money
but did not spend it. . he and mom paid cash for
a 321 acre farm in 1962, and the home I have now
was bought by liquidating half of that farm, and
adding our money to it. . I'll be quiet now.
I love the poem!!! -- john
p.s. the nickle comment is mine.
.
Jan
I am a bit embarrassed. Please do not think it amiss if I delete it now.
I have instantly decided that I admire both your dad and your turn of phrase: eight pennies out of a nickle. I have never heard that before - Did you make it up?
Jan, waiting a few minutes before delete
from england, and though dad was so stingy that
he could squeeze eight pennies out of a nickel, we
can't claim scottish or irish. . but we do love glenfiddich
and glenlivet. . and fish / chips. . Thanks!!! -- j
.