Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

J. C. Squire, ed. A Book of Women’s Verse. 1921.

By Anne Askewe (c. 1520–1546 [martyred])

The Balade whych Anne Askewe made and sange when she was in Newgate

LYKE as the armed knyght

Appoynted to the fielde,

With thys world wyll I fyght,

And fayth shall be my shielde.

Faythe is that weapon stronge

Whych wyll not fayle at nede;

My foes therfor amonge

Therwith wyll I procede.

As it is had in strengthe

And force of Christes waye,

It wyll prevayle at lengthe,

Though all the devyls saye naye.

Faythe in the fathers olde

Obtayned ryghtwysnesse,

Whych make me verye bolde

To feare no worldes dystresse.

I now rejoyce in hart,

And hope byd me do so,

For Christ wyll take my part,

And ease me of my wo.

Thu sayst, Lorde, whoso knocke,

To them wylt thou attende;

Undo therfor the locke,

And thy stronge power sende.

More enmyes now I have

Than heeres upon my heed;

Lete them not me deprave,

But fyght thu in my steed.

On the my care I cast,

For all their cruell spyght,

I sett not by their hast,

For thu art my delyght.

I am not she that lyst

My anker to lete fall,

For everye dryslynge myst,

My shyppe substancyall.

Not oft use I to wryght

In prose nor yet in ryme,

Yet wyll I shewe one syght

That I sawe in my tyme.

I saw a ryall trone

Where Justyce shuld have sytt,

But in her stede was one

Of modye cruell wytt.

Absorpt was ryghtwysnesse

As of the ragynge floude;

Sathan in hys excesse

Sucte up the gyltelesse bloude.

Then thought I, Jesus, Lorde,

Whan thee shalt judge us all,

Harde is it to recorde

On these men what wyll fall.

Yet, Lorde, I the desyre,

For that they do to me:

Lete them not taste the hyre

Of their inyquyte.