[Capystranus a metrical romance]. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A04523 of text S106539 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 14649). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 23 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 12 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A04523 STC 14649 ESTC S106539 99842254 99842254 6895 2248596661

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A04523) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 6895) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 754:05) [Capystranus a metrical romance]. [10+] leaves : ill. W. de Worde, [London : ca. 1515] Title and imprint from STC. Verse; first line of text reads: O myghty fader in heuen on hye. In this edition A3r beneath Hodnett 1117 reads: Now Machamyte that turke vntrue; B1r beneath Hodnett 1118 reads: The emperour of Constantyne. A fragment; leaves A2-C3 only. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng John, -- of Capistrano, Saint, 1386-1456 -- Early works to 1800. eebo [Capystranus; a metrical romance]. [no entry] 1515 24 3406 3 0 0 0 0 0 8.81 B The rate of 8.81 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2012-06 Assigned for keying and markup 2012-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2013-10 Sampled and proofread 2013-10 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2014-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Capystranus a Metrical Romance O Myghty fader in heuen on hye One god and persones thre That made bothe daye and nyght And after as it was thy wyll Thyn owne sone thou sent vs tyll In amayden to lyght Syth the Iewes that were wylde Hanged hym that was so mylde And to dethe hym dyght Whan he was deed the sothe to saye To lyfe he rose on the thyrde daye Thoroughe his owne myght Then to helle he wente anone And toke out soules many one Out of that holde he hente Maugre the fendes that were bolde He toke the prysoners out of holde With them to heuen he wente On his faders ryght hande he hym sette That all sholde knowe withouten lette That he was omnypotente And after wysdome he was sente That all sholde kepe his commaundemente And for to byleue in hym verray That is our sauyour That borne was of that blyssed floure That byght Mary I saye That shall vs deme withouten mysse Some to payne and some to blysse At dredefull domes daye Tho that byleue on hym a ryght To blysse they goue with aungelles bryght ●●●ysse and Ioye for aye 〈◊〉 Ihesu as thou bought vs dere Gyue them Ioye this gest wyll here And herken on a ryght Some men loueth to here tell Of doughty knyghtes that were fell And some of ladyes bryght And some myracles that are tolde And some of venterous knyghtes olde That for our lorde dyde fyght As Charles dyde that noble kynge That hethen downe dyde brynge Thrughe the helpe of god almyghty He wanne fro the hethen houndes The spere and nayles of crystes woundes And also the crowne of thorne And many a ryche relyke mo Mawgre of them he wanne also And kylled them euen and morne The turkes and the paynyms bolde He felled doune many a folde Durst none stande hym beforne Charles gan them so affraye That the catyues myght curse the daye And the tyme that they were borne

depiction of Turks and Christians doing battle

NOw Machamyte that turke vntrue To our lorde Cryst Ihesu And to his lawe also Many crysten men slayne hath be And wanne constantyne the noble cyte With many townes mo He brent and slewe / & lefte none on lyfe Neyther man / chylde / ne wyfe To dethe he made them go Yonge Innocentes the neuer dyde gylte That false turke hath them spylte He played the kynge Pharao All the stretes of Constantyne Ranne blode reder than wyne That meruayle was to se There coude no man his fote downe sette I gyue you knowlege withonten lette But on a deed body The crysten men wente to wrake The churches and our ymages they brake That were made of stone and tree The crucyfyxe of our sauyour They kest it downe with dyshonour And also our lady The slewe our preestes at the masse Goddes men had no grace They kylled them downe in euery stede Bothe preestes & clerkes they put to dede Within goddes holy place The turkes kene with shelde and spere Our preestes before the hye aultere They ranne thrughe in a rage Many gan dye for crystes loue Aungelles theyr soules bare aboue To blysse and moche solace Thus the turke the wycked quede Crysten people he put to dede And lefte fewe vpon lyue The hethen cryed with grete dysyte On mahounde and Macamyte The turkes men full ryue There was uone that durst on Ihesu crye But they were taken and slayne in hye Anone and that byleue The turke hym selfe a crye dyde make There sholde no man a prysoner take God lette them neuer thryue Then the dogges the byleued on mahounde The crysten people kylled to the grounde No golde myght be theyr mede The Crysten sawe that they sholde dye And on theyr maysters layde hande quycly And faught a wele good spede Euery prysoner then on lyue Kylled of the turkes foure or fyue To helle theyr soules yede Or our prysoners after were take Many a turke they made blake There was no helme nor haubergyon Plate or male nor good aucton Theyr dyntes myght refrayne Macamyte sawe his men so dye And loude on mahound ehe gan crye In herte he was not fayne Our crysten neded no wepen craue The stretes laye full take who wolde haue To fyght with men of mayne Anone within a lytell throwe Fyue . M. turkes on a rowe In the stretes lay slayne Whan Mychamyte that spyed Out on mahounde he cryed And as a fende dyde yell Our crysten stode in full grete doubte As doughty men layde fast aboute Vpon the houndes of helle Our crysten men were then to fewe For the turkes came euer newe In sothe as I you tell Our men hewed on hastely And made turkes loude to crye The false downe they fell Thus countred with sarasyns kene Tyll .lxxx. M. were layde be dene In a lytell thought Mychamyte was neuer so we To se so fewe so many slo His sorwe was not shorte He cryed Mahounde as he wolde braste Our crysten on Ihesu cryed faste That all the worlde wrought Some scaped away with goddes grace On lyue maugre the turkes face But many than gan dye At the dystruccyon of Cyuys Were not so many slayne ywys As were ou bothe partyes Alas saufe crysten wyll of heuen Our crysten were made vneuen With a false company For of the turkes and sarasyns kene An. C. were withouten wene Agaynst one of our meny

depiction of Turks and Christians doing battle during the seige of Belgrade

THe emperour of Constantyne A doughty man at a tyme The turke hym toke that hethen bounde And gaue hym many a grysly wounde I praye god gyue hym grame He bounde hym tyll the blode out braste And badde hym forsake Ihesu in haste Or elles thou shalte haue shame Haue done anone / and hym defye And also his moder Marye That thou callest his dame Valeryan answered and sayd nay Thou shalte neuer se that daye That I shall hym forsake Turne the turke and all thy men Or elles in helle thou shalte brenne Amonge the fendes blacke Leue in Ihesu full of myght And that mayden that he in lyght For crysten men sake Than the turke wexed euyll a payed Commaunded his men at a brayed Anone to make hym naked He had them bete him with scourges kene And after bore out his eyen With wymbles hote and reed They plucked his herte by and by And bothe his eeres on hy They cut of his heed With pynsons his teche they brake Bad hym anone his god forsake Or sholde neuer ete breed They sawe in no wyse that it wolde be Anone they made a sawe of tre And sawed hym to deed Tho the turkes with moche payne This doughty men haue they slayne For Crystes sake I saye And so they dyde with many mo The turkes myght curse the tyme also That they there came that daye Of crystes people was many a part marte There was no turke payed of his parte By the laste ende of the fraye They had helle fo● theyr fyght They crysten wente to heuen bryght To bye in blysse for aye Thus is constantyne the noble cyte wonne Beten doune with many a gonne And crysten people slayne There the turke with his meyne Keped styll that noble cyte Durste no man hym with sayne Forty myle rounde aboute Durst no man by hym route Neyther on hyll ne playne The turke kepte the felde many a day Crysten people in the countray Of hym were dredde Isayne Where they myght ony crysten gete I tell you now withouten doute They lefte there lyfe to wedde All suffred dethe for Crystes sake That this turke myght ouertake But thus they for hym fledde Thereof herde a holy frere The werkes of the fendes fere And to Rome hym spedde Iohan capystranus the frere hyght I dare say he was goddes knyght An holy man was he To the pope anone he wanne Capystranus that holy man And kneled vpon his kne He sayd fader for crystes lone of heuen That made this worlde and dayes seuen Herken now to me There is a turke I vnderstande That brennes and slees goddes lande Grete dole it is to se The turke his purpose is I lete you were withouten mys To wynne all hungree Therfore fader put thy holy hande And helpe to warre goddes lande His true vycar yf thou be He brenneth chirches in euery place Crysten men gothe to deth a pace To beholde is grete pyte Now fader helpe with thy socoure For Maryes loue that swete floure Our hope is moche in the With two hondred this same daye To Grecuswyssyngburgh he toke the waye This is no scorne Many a thousande there shall dye If he wynne that ryall cytye All hungrye is forlorne I am the messynger of Ihesus Truely lorde it wyll be thus As I haue sayd beforne Therfore helpe with all thy myght For goddes loue for to fyght That was of Marye borne Than the pope sayd anone Good broder frere Ihon As I vnderstande Thou prechest goddes wordes wyde In the countree on euecy syde In many a dyuerse lande Thou knowest many a noble man Take a capytayne where thou can Whyder that he be free or bonde And as I am goddes bycar true This false turke his rese shall rue And therto my holy hande Now fader I thanke the hartely To chese a capytayne the bydde me Certayne without ony mys Now holy fader withouten layne This shall be my capytayne He sayd the pope ymys A baner of crystes pyssyon That mannes soule dyde redempcyon And brought them from payne to lyght Holowe it with thy hande The people may the better stande That vnder it dooth fyght This shall be my capytayne An other wolde I haue fayne That is thy bull of leed That all that vnder it dooth fyght For goddes loue moost of myght Euer in ony lande If it happen them to be slayne That theyr soules come neuer in payne After that they be deed The people sayd blyssed myght thou be A holy man I holde the I wyll do after thy rede Anone the baner was made and halowed The bull cealed and vp folded And the pardon of grace Delyuered it to the frere truely The people blyssed hym tymes thre And thus his leue he taketh Barefote he bare out of the toune The baner of crystes passyoune Towarde the turke he hasteth And preched goddes lawe as he yede And moche people to hym gan spede To gete theyr soules solace Grete golde and syluer was hym gyuen And euer he delte it euen Tho people that with hym yede So certaynly as I you saye All romayne for hym dyde praye And so it was grete nede Suche freres we haue to fewe Pray all we Cryste Ihesu To be his helpe and spede For of this I fynde a fytte Ferther and ye wyll sytte Herkyn and take good hede
THis frere wente to Hungry And many men with hym truely That for our lorde dyde fyght To an vnyuersyte he toke the waye The gretest in Hungrye I dare well saye Gottauntas it hyght Out of the vnyuersyte there wente in fere Syxe and twenty . M. with the frere Of relygyous men full ryght The moost partye was preestes I saye Eueryche preued hym that day That he was goddes knyght The frere with grete deuocyon Bare the baner of crystes passyon Amonge the people all Dysplayed abrode grete Ioye to se Men of dyuerse countre Fast to hym gan fall Thus passed forthe Capystranus And met with the good erle Obedyanus A captayne pryncypall Twenty thousande and mo Amonge them was but knyghtes two And thus men dooth them call Rycharde morpath a knyght of Englonde And syr Iohan Elacke I vnderstonde That was a turke before And now he is a curteys knyght I lete you wete and a wyght And stedfast in our lore Many a turke hath greued sore Theyr lyues they lefte behynde He hath made them hop heedles Many one withouten les Where he myght theym fynde There .xx. thousande met in fere With Obedyauns and the frere In helme and hauberke bryght To grecuswyssynburgh he toke the waye There the turke at syege laye With many a knyght Fourtene wekes the turke had ben there And put the crysten to moche fere To hym they had no myght Fyue . C. gonnes he lete shote at ones Brake doune the walles with stones The wylde fyre lemed lyght To here it was grete wonder The noyse of gonnes moche lyke the thonder That was a frefull dynne The noyse was herde many a myle Obedyaunce the meane whyle Entred the towne within At .vi of the clocke the sothe to saye After noone on the Maudeleyne And neyther lesse ne mo And Capystranus good frere Ihon Assoyled our men euerychone To batayll or they dyde gone And cryed loude with voyce clere Lete vs fyght for our soupere In heuen is redy dyght Our baner shall I bere to daye And to Ihesu fast shall praye To spede vs in our ryght Anone they togyder mette Fyue . M. deed withouten lette In helme and hauberke bryght Obedianus that noble man Slewe them fast that serued sathan Thorowe cryst theyr crownes had care All that he with his faucon hyt There was no salue I lette you wyt That euer myght hele that sore There was no turke that he with met But he had suche a buffet That he greued neuer crysten man more He was a doughty knyght The fals he felled for goddes ryght I praye god wele myght he fare Morpath and blacke Iohan That daye kylled turkes many one Certayne withouten lette There was none so good armoure That theyr dyntes myght endure Helme nor bryght basynet They hewe vpon the hethen on hye They fyre out of euery syde gan flye So boldely on they bette Many a turke there was cast Beten tyll the braynes brast Theyr maysters there they mette Many a. M. of preestes there was The turkes herde neuer suche a masse As they harde that daye Our preestes te deum songe The hethen fast downe they donge Then pax was put awaye There was scole maysters of the best Many of them were brought to rest That wolde not lere theyr lawe Thus our crysten people dyde fyght From .v. of the clocke on Maudeleyne nyght Tyll .x. on the other daye Then came the turkes with newe batayll Clene clad in plate and male A. C. thousande and mo On dromydaryes gan they ryde And kylled our men on euery syde Two . M. were there sloo Our men to stande they had no mayne But fledde to the towne anone With woundes wyde and bloo Twenty thousande of our men Were borne downe at the brydge ende The turkes were so thro Dromydaryes ouer them ranne And kylled downe bothe horse and man In the felde durst none abyde Obedianus had many a wounde Or he wolde flee the grounde For all the turkes pryde Morpath and blacke Iohan Had woundes many one That blody were and wyde To the towne they fledde on fote They sawe it was no better bote Theyr stedes were slayne that tyde The turkes folowed in to the towne And kylled all before them downe Grete doyll it was to see In to the towne the grete turke wanne And kylled wyfe chylde and man The Innocentes thycke gan dye Iohan Capystranus se that it was thus And hent a curcyfyxe of cryst Ihesus Ranne vp tyll a toure on hye The halowed baner with hym he bare In the top of the toure he set it there And cryed full pytefully He sayd lorde god in heuen on hye Where is become thyn olde myght That men were wonte to haue O my lorde cryste Ihesus Why hast thou forgoten vs Now helpe of the we craue Loke on thy people that do thus dye Lorde ones cast downe thyn eye And helpe thy men to saue Now lorde sende downe thy moche myght Agaynst these fendes for to fyght That so thy people dyspray Thynke lorde how I haue preched thy lawe Gone barefote bothe in frost and snawe To please the to thy paye I haue fasted and suffred dysease Prayed all onely the to please The psalmes ofte I saye For all my seruyse I haue done the I aske no more to my fee But helpe thy men to day For and thou lette them thus spyll I am ryght in good wyll For euer to forsake thy laye Now mary mayden helpe me to daye Or elles thy matyns shall I neuer saye Dayes of all my lyue Ne no prayer that the shall please But yf thou helpe now our desease Ne menye thy Ioyes fyue A poynt is for thy maydenhede That all this people suffreth dede Now helpe to stynte our stryue Now lady of thy men haue pyte Praye for them to thy sone on hye As thou arte mayden and wyfe O lorde fader omnypotent Thynke on the myracle that thou charles sent That for the dyde fyght Thrughe his prayer and grace The sone shone styll thre dayes space And shone with beames bryght Pharao thou drowned in the see Tho that thou lete go free Awaye thou ledde them ryght This daye lorde thou helpe thy men Thou art also bygge now as thou was then And of as moche myght The frere loude on god cryed A longe myle on euery syde The people herde his voyse Twenty . M. dede for to see Within the twynclyn of an eye To lyfe they rose agayne Echone a wepyn in hande hente And frely began to fyght And felde downe fast theyr foes The good erle Obedianus Faught frely for our lorde Ihesus On euery syde spronge his lose He droue the truke out of the towne The crysten felled the false downe And droue them to the felde agayne Twenty . M. with them mette Orelles the turke withouten lette Surely had ben slayne Than were they fayne for to fyght Than euer was foule of daye lyght Certayne withouten layne NOw begynneth a newe batayll I let you wyt withouten fayle Of myghty men of mayne Ychone hewe on other with Ire That all the felde semed fyre Also lyght as leme of thonder Euery man hurte other in hast And layde on basynettes to braynes brast And euer the false fell vnder The blode ranne all the felde Of doughty men vnder shelde To se it was grete wonder There was he wynge from the hals The helmes and the hedes als Ryche knyghtes were vnknytte Many a turke withouten fayle Tombled top ouer tayle That neuer rose yet So harde on helmes they hewe That there were turkes but fewe That in sadyll coude sytte There was no turke there But he myght tell of moche care I lette you well wytte There was stycked many a stede Grete dromydaryes made blede Tho they for faynt fell The crysten men had quarelles good They dredde nothynge to shed theyr blode Whan Ihesu dyde them call They hewed on with swerdes kene Of helmes with the hedes by deene Tumbled as a ball So delte they strokes on a brayde That no turke helde hym apayde The proudest of them all There was hurtelynge in fere Broken many a sharpe spere And drawen many a knyfe Stedes sterted out of stryfe And kest theyr maysters in the waye Vtterly byleue Many a hethen in theyr ghere His folowe gan downe bere And to the erthe hym dryue The blode ranne thrughe the brest