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Carmen de Triumpho Normannico(Song of the Triumphant Normans) or Carmen de Haestingae Proelio(Song of Hastings) are 20th century names
for the Carmen Widonis, the earliest history of the Norman invasion of England from September to December 1066,
which was written in Latin probably by May 1068. It is attributed to Bishop Guy of Amiens, a noble of Ponthieu and monastically-trained bishop and
administrator close to the French court, who eventually served as a chaplain for Matilda of Flanders,
William the Conqueror's queen. Guy was an uncle to Count Guy of Ponthieu, who figures rather prominently in the
Bayeux Tapestry as the vassal of Duke William of Normandy who captured Harold Godwinson in 1064. (for further details see Wikipedia)
This page contains limited extracts from the Translation by Kathleen Tyson
who has published it as ISBN 978149204751.
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But for a long time your leading fleet across the Channel is barred by storms and constant rain
From antiquity the port of Vimeu has been renown
Above is the fortress of St Valery
For fifteen days you occupied these regions
It remains wet
And the sky is covered with cloud and rain
And the sun shone forth brighter than usual
When Michaelmas was celebrated around the world
While sailors take up their oars and knights their arms
Surely ten times ten times ten and 5 thousand more men
Hitherto confined, the ships spread along the coast evenly
And form themselves into a tidy fleet
The day is already short the setting sun now inclines
When your flagship sets the course
When the dark night’s gloomy shadows overspread the sky
On the open sea you moor offshore
You caution to take in the sails awaiting the morning to come
Nor fear the Northern gale, but to a charming landing place
Nor the rocky coast looming perilous
The third hour of the day overspread the earth
Since leaving the sea behind when you seize a sheltered strand
The land belonging to you had been stripped of tenants
You rejoice as you and yours seize a peaceful arc of strand
You secure the bridgehead fearing to neglect the ships
And raise palisades, that you may site the camp within
You restore the forts that were long since destroyed
You station garrisons that they may be defended
Not much space has been occupied by your men in peace
But for a long time your leading the fleet across the Channel
Is barred by storms and constant rain
While you stand in the offing for a favourable wind
And gusting east winds curl the surging waves
At last quitting your coast
You turn the fleet to another shore
From antiquity the port of Vimeu has been renowned
That fortified port on the mouth of the Somme
Here the delay is long and irksome for you
For fifteen days you occupy these regions
They invade the countryside, they lay waste and put to the torch
One Englishman kept hidden under the sea cliffs
He sees the countless ranks stream forth
Blazing flames devour homes
And all the children shed tears at the slaughter of their parents
He swiftly mounted a horse
He hastened to tell the king
The king returned from war laden with rich spoils
The messenger, coming up with him, spread this before the ranks
The Duke of Normandy with Gauls and Bretons
He is laying waste and putting to the torch
Meanwhile the accursed King Harold at the far end of the land
Honed treacherous blades to cut down a brother
For the brother had occupied no small part of the kingdom
Harold rushed the army to confront the enemy
He did not fear to deliver the limbs of a brother to death
Each to the other waged worse than civil war
But alas, Harold was the victor.
The king returned from war laden with rich spoils
The messenger, coming up with him, spread this before the ranks
The Duke of Normandy with Gauls and Bretons
He is laying waste and putting to the torch
He summond the dukes, counts and nobles of the land
Through you we conquered the enemy who Norway sent
Of like importance , we have laid low
Him who suckled milk at my mothers own teat
You my elite guard and militia
Hear that the Normans invade our Kingdom
Presently a battle cry arose that struck the stars
We spoil for war rather than place our necks under the yoke
A sage monk of eloquent speech was chosen
Who could be trusted to cautiously scout the camp of the duke
He sped on his way on a swift horse
Whatever the vain monk brought him, the duke held immaterial
Insofar as he urges retreat, it is raving madness entirely
Indeed the season forbids it, and the way is not easy
The monk hastened back
France who begets illustrious nobility
And people of Brittany, for whom there is honour in arms
Illustrious forces of Maine, whose glory
Apulia, Calabria, Sicily! Whose flying darts swarm!
Esteemed Normans, ever ready for action!
Wherefore we charge you to guard the camp
To return an envoy prepared word for word
The monk was summoned. He took to the road without delay
Because the Duke had directed his envoy to proceed ever vigilant
The envoy detouring through the countryside
Approached unseen where the King was preparing the ambush
Neck twisting, face distorted, Harold
Said to the envoy ‘Go back Dullard’
The envoy retraced his path by the shortcut back
Imperial in splendour, the duke, peace and glory of the realm
Advanced before the ranks of his army
The ruddy hued face of the envoy
The Duke asked ‘where is the king’
Without warning he hopes he may ambush you
It is said he has sent five hundred ships to sea
Where he advances there he lays planks of wood
And by this means makes dry crossings of rivers
Meanwhile as the encampment darkened, the heir of fraud
Under cover of night came coursing like a thief
The king ordered his men to arms, still in concealment from the Duke
He ordered the columns attack if they would prevail
The duke was silent a wile and composed himself
He sent archers before the infantry to start the battle
And placed the crossbowmen in the centre
He intended to station his lancers behind the infantry
But encountering battle, he was not allowed
For he saw the approach of enemy columns not far off
And the woods full of gleaming weapons
Suddenly a company of English emerged from the forest
And the column rushed from wooded cover
Nearby was a wooded hill, neighbouring the valley
Its terrain was rugged and uncultivated
The English as is their custom advancing crowded together
The king ascended the summit that he might wage war in the midst of his army
And the noblemen flanked him either side
At the summit of the hill a streaming banner was planted
All dismounted and the horses are taken behind the rear
The Duke below fearing mastery from the height checks the advancing column
And boldly approaches the steep slope
He commences battle with arrows to confound the English infantry
The first of the infantry attack the opposing archers
At a spears throw away and pierce the bodies with javelins
And crossbow bolts like a hailstorm dissolve shields
But also the Gaul cavalry attacked to the left, the Bretons to the right
The Duke with the Norman cavalry fights in the middle
The thick mob of the english stand fixed to the ground
The Franks expert in war prepare a feint
They falsely act as if decisively defeated, fleeing
The English peasants rejoice and believe themselves triumphant
The once dense wood is made sparse
Seeing the left battle line thinned, a Norman wedge
Penetrates as far as the opportune breach stands
Meanwhile those Franks who feigned sudden flight suddenly about face
They gather in tight formation to charge the slope for slaughter
A large part of the English mob perish there, while the denser mob stands its ground
Truly ten thousand have suffered slaughter there
Wiser in war the greater part who remained above press ahead
The English mob push back, overcoming their enemy by greater numbers
By force they compel the Normans to cede an about face
The Normans flee, shields covering their backs
Enraged he bares his head of its helmet
He said ‘who are you fleeing’
You who have been victorious, allow yourselves to be seen vanquished
The sea is behind back by sea is the way to return
Through heavy seas, wind and weather opposing you
And remaining here you have no way of escape
They formed up behind, facing back towards the enemy
Following him the rest of those returning took heart
So the English mob fell to the Frankish force
The column gave way in terror before the face of the duke
Harold’s brother is unafraid in the face of the lion
Named Gyrth he was born to the line of the king
A javelin launches swiftly from his strong shoulder
The blade of the missile pierces the body of the horse
It is wounded so the Duke is forced to fight on foot
For he follows the swift youth as a ravening lion
Hacking limb from limb
The duke recalling himself as a knight turns swiftly towards that one
And swiftly mounts the horse thus offered to him
A Trojan a man quick and ready
Lies in ambush that he might draw an end to the duke’s harrying
But the hurled javelin delivers its blow to the horse
Meanwhile Count Eustace of noble family born
Surrounded by a mixed wedge of warriors
He makes himself a foot soldier so that the duke might go forth mounted
They return at once to the battle where the weapons glitter thickest
So a forest of Englishmen were brought to destruction
Now the field is ruled and victory nearly complete
When the duke spies the king above on the steep hill
His hard pressed men are being torn to pieces
The duke summons Eustace from the Franks then clearing the battlefield
Like a second Hector, the noble heir of Ponthieu
Hugh accompanies these ever ready for duty
Fourth is Gilfard, called by his father’s surname
Although many others join, these are the best of them
Harold is forced to go the way of all flesh
The first shatters his breast through the shield by a lance
The second by sword severs the head below the helmet
The third by spears pours out the belly’s entrails
The fourth cuts off the leg at the hip
The flying rumour ‘Harold is dead’ spreads through the battlefield
The defeated English refuse battle they demand pardon
The defeated English refuse battle they demand pardon
Distrusted to live they yield their backs to death
By tally the duke sends two thousand to the Lower World there
Beside the other countless thousands
It was evening already the axis turned day to shadows
Only night and flight avail the defeated English
Through cover and hiding places in the dense forest
Ever vigilant Hector followed the fleeing fugitives
He led the various skirmishes through the night until daylight
The duke gathered the torn remnants of Harold’s body
And so carried with him, returned to his seaside camp
Swearing it better Harold was buried promptly on the coast of the port under a heap of stones
Therefore just as he had vowed high on a cliff
He ordered the body entombed on the ground at the summit.
That he may remain sentry over sea and strand
He remained at the camp at the port of Hastings five days
And turned from there to the Dover road
He had not finished half the journey when, fearing him
And bestowed the keys of the castle and open gates
In that place is a high rock, a narrow sea, a shaded shore
But Dover castle hangs on the heights of the cliffs
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