King Salomon, whiche had at his afkyng
Of God what thing hym was levist to crave,
He chafe wifedome to the right govirnyng
Of Godis folke, the whiche he wouldin save,
And as he chafe, it fill hym for to have
For through his wit while that his reign did last
He gate hym pece and reft into his last.
But Alexandre', as cellith his ftorie,
Unto the God befought in othir waie,
Of all the worlde to win the victorie,
So that undir his fwerde it might obaie ;
In werre he had all that he wouldin praie;
The mightie God behight hym that beheste,
The worlde he wanne, and had it of conquefte. 42
But though it fill at thilke tymè fo
That Alexandre' his afkyng had atchived,
This finfull worldè was all Painim tho,
Was none whiche hath the high God beleved,
No wonder was though thilk world was greved
Though a tyrant his purpose might ywin,
All was vengeaunce and infortune of fin.
But now the faith of Chrift is come aplace
Emongis the princis in this yerth here,
It fitte 'hem well to doe pite and grace,
But yet it must be temprid in manere,
For that thei findin cause in the mattere,
Upon the poinct, what aftirward betide,
The lawe of right shall not be laied aside.
So maie a king of werrè the voyage
Ordain and take, as he thereto is holde,
To claime and aske his rightfull heritage
In al placis whereas it is withholde,
But othirwife, if God himselfe would
Affirmin love and pece bitwene the kinges
Pece is the best above al erthely thinges.
Gode is to efchewe warre; and nathèles
A king may makin werrc upon his right,
For of bataile the final ende is pefe,
Thus ftant the lawè that a worthy knight
Upon his trouth may goin to the fight,
But if fo were that he mightin chefe
Bettir is pece, of which may no man lefe.
To ftere pece ought evèryche one on lyve
First for to fettin his liege lorde in rest,
And eke these othir men that they ne strive,
For fo this landè may standin at best;
What king that woldè be the worthyest,
The more he might our dedly werris cefe
The more he fhould his worthineffe encrefe.
Pece is the chefe of al the world'is welth,
And to the heven it ledith eke the way,
Pece is of foule and life the mann'is helth,
Of peftilence, and doth the werre away;
My liegè Lorde, take hede of that I say,
If that werre may be lefte take pece on hande,
Whiche may not be without in Godd'is fande.
With pece ftant evèry creture in rest,
Withoutin pece there may no lyfe be gladde,
Above al othir gode pece is the best,
Pece hath himself whan werre is all beftadde,
The pece is safe, the werre is evir dradde,
Pece is of allè charite the kay,
Whiche hath the life and foulè for to way.
My liege Lorde, if that the lyfte to feche
The foth enfamplis what the werre hath wrought
Thou shalt wel herin of wife mennis speche
That dedly werrè tournith into nought,
For if these old bokis be wel ysought
There might thou fe what thing that werre hath do
Both of conqueft and conquerour also.
For vaine honour or for the world'is gode
They that whilom the strongè werris made
Wher be they now? bethinke wel in thy mode
The day is gone, the night is derke and fade,
Ther cruilte, whiche that made 'hem than glade,
They forowen now, and yet have naught the more;
The blode is fhad which no man may restore.
The werre is mothir of the wrongis al,
It fleeth the priest in holy churche at masse,
Forlith the maide, and doth her flour to fal,
The werrè makith the grete cite laffe,
And dothe the lawe his rulis ovirpaffe:
Ther is nothing wherof mischefe may growe
Whiche is not caufid of the werre I trowe.
The werre bringith in povirtie' at his heles,
Wherof the comin peple is fore greved;
The werre hath set his cart on thilke wheles
Where that Fortune ne may nat be beleved,
For whan men wenin beft to have acheved
Ful oftin it is al newe to begin;
The werre hath nothing fikir tho he win.
Forthy, my worthy Prince! in Christ'is halve,
As for a parte whose faith thou haft be gide,
Ley to this olde fore a newè salve,
And do the werre away what so betide;
Purchacin pece, and set it by thy fyde,
And fuffre nat thy peple be devoured,
30 fhal thy name er aftir stand honoured.
If any man be nowe or evir was
Ayen the pece thy privy counfailour
Let God be of thy counfaile in this caas,
And put away the cruil warriour,
For God, whiche is of man the creätour,
He wolde not men flough his creäture
Withoutin caufe of dedly forfaiture.
Where nedith most behovith most to loke;
My Lorde, howe so thy werris be without
Of time ypaffid who that hede ytoke
Gode were at home to fe right wel about,
For evirmore the worfte is for to dout,
But if thon mightift parfite pece attaine
There fhould ybe no caufè for to plaine.
About a king gode counfaile is to preife,
Above al othir thinges most vailable,
But yet a king within himselfe shal peise,
And seen the thingis that ben refonable,
And therupon he shal his wittis stable,
Among the men to fettin pece in evin,
For love of him whiche is the king of hevyn.
A! wel is him that ne fhedde nevir blode
But if it were in cause of rightwyfenes!
For yf a kynge the peril undirstode
What is to fle the peple, than I geffe
The dedly werris and the hevines
Wherof the pece distourbid is ful ofte
Shuld at fome timè ceffe and wexin foft.
O kinge fulfillid of grace and knighthode!
Remembre upon this pointe for Chrifte's fake;
If pece be profered unto thy manhode,
Thine honour fave, let it not be forfake;
Though thou the werris darst wel undirtake,
Aftir refon yet tempre thy courage,
For lyke to pece there is none avauntage.
My worthy Lorde, thinke wel, howe so befall,
Of thilkè lore as holy bokis faine,
Chrift is the hed, and we be membris al,
As wel the fubjecte as the fovèraine,
So fitte it wel that charite be plaine,
Whiche unto God himselfe most accordeth,
So as the lore of Chrift'is worde recordeth.
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