1 Hail. See note to line 43, below.↩back to note source

1–2 kalende / Of Marche. In their edition, D&A (pp. xvi–xvii) go to some length to try to match the poem’s dating here (March 1) with the dating of their assumed occasion for composition: the Loveday between Yorkists and Lancastrians on March 25, 1458. The proem, however, should almost assuredly be dated to an entry into London on March 1, 1460. The subsequent book itself, in order to be presented on that day, must have been written earlier, quite possibly in Coventry in the last week of November or the first week of December 1459 (see the Introduction, pp. 2–3). Many factors might have influenced the delay between the composition and the presentation of the book, but it could be that March, being named for the god of war, was thought a fitting time for a book on war.↩back to note source

2–3 wheryn David the Confessour / Commaunded is his Kyngis court ascende. Wakelin (“Occasion, Author, and Readers,” p. 267) is correct to observe that this is not, as D&A suggest (pp. xvii–xviii), a reference to the ascension of King David to the throne of Israel, but instead a reference to the patron saint of Wales, St. David the Confessor. However, Wakelin errs in suggesting that the poet nevertheless “seems to confuse” the two figures by referring to the kyngis court. St. David’s March 1 feast day celebrates both the life and the death of the saint (when he was called to the court of his king, i.e., God).↩back to note source

9–15 And she . . . hidir sende. Because the “structure of the sentence is not clear,” D&A term “the whole vision . . . extremely hazy” (p. 111n13–16). This implication may be due to their reading of anende in line 10 as an ende, which does indeed strain the grammar. Repaired, however, the vision seems quite clear: the poet calls for blessings upon the Virgin Mary, who comes into the procession alongside her son, accompanied by the uncountable flights of arrayed angels that they command. Nall argues that the poet goes beyond this, attempting to identify Henry VI with Christ in this imagery (Reading and War, pp. 125–29).↩back to note source

13–15 And ordir . . . hidir sende. The poet foreshadows his text’s integral interest in establishing a proper order for the realm — explicit in the ordering of its military forces, implicit in the unification of Yorkists and Lancastrians under the king’s rule — by presenting the arrival of the angels according to their own hierarchy and under their own royal command (see note to lines 9–15, above). The tradition of the nine orders of the angels on which he relies extends back to the popular fifth-century work De coelesti hierarchia [On the Celestial Hierarchy], by Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, from whom it was adopted by St. Thomas Aquinas (Summa Theologica 1.108). The nine orders, which will be listed in full in lines 152–58, are, in ascending order: angels, archangels, principalities, powers, virtues, dominations, thrones, cherubim, and seraphim.↩back to note source

17–20 But Kyng Henry . . . now wel. The poet’s political aims are highlighted early, as he corresponds Henry VI’s entry into London with the sacred and celestial visitation just given. Just as all are made one in Christ, so, too, will all be made one through the king. Nall goes further, suggesting that the author is portraying Henry VI as a figuration of Christ, such that disobedience to the king (i.e., through rebellion) becomes heresy (Reading and War, pp. 130–34). Regardless, the fact that this hope came to naught is clear not just in the historical continuation of the Wars of the Roses until at least 1487 but in the poem’s manuscript record, as well: subsequent references to the Lancastrian King Henry VI in the alternative manuscripts were emended to refer to the Yorkist King Edward IV (see the Introduction, pp. 11–13).↩back to note source

21 Te Deum. One of the most common Christian hymns, Te Deum laudamus [Thee, O God, we praise] was sung to give thanks to God. As a hymn that calls for God’s blessing upon an event, it would be appropriate for both the royal entry into London here described and the feast day on which the event is supposedly taking place.↩back to note source

22–24 Benedicta Sancta Trinitas . . . Unitas. The poet here incorporates the beginning of the Introit for Trinity Sunday: Benedicta sit Sancta Trinitas, atque indivisa Unitas [Blessed be the Holy Trinity, and undivided Unity].↩back to note source

25 Deo gratias. The traditional phrase Deo gratias [Thanks be to God] completes the Latin Mass, which makes it a suitable conclusion to the poet’s opening vision of celestial and sacred blessings upon Henry VI’s entry.↩back to note source

25–28 Therof . . . then now. The poet here parallels the celestial Trinity with a secular trinity of the three estates of the Middle Ages: the clergy, the military, and the commons.↩back to note source

41 Te Deum laudamus. See note to line 21, above.↩back to note source

43 honor, virtus. The poet here quotes the hymn Tantum ergo Sacramentum [Therefore so great a Sacrament], written by St. Thomas Aquinas, which has liturgical use in the benediction of the Blessed Sacrament: the hymn praises the Trinity with salus, honor, virtus [hail, honor, virtue]. The first of these terms does not occur here, but might be implied in the “Hail” of line 1, thus neatly framing this opening of Trinitarian praise.↩back to note source

45–46 Thi bille . . . not foryete. The poet’s petition to the king appears to be his request to dedicate Of Knyghthode and Bataile to him, as described in the subsequent lines.↩back to note source

47 my lord Beaumont. On Beaumont, see the Introduction, pp. 2–3.↩back to note source

56 Sumtyme it was the gise. What Beaumont begins reading is line 89, the start of the translation proper.↩back to note source

61–80 I wil considir . . . exemplifying techeth. As D&A punctuate it, Beaumont’s speech that begins at line 61 does not end until the completion of the proem. To the contrary, it is here assumed that the lord’s directive that the poet present the book to the king (line 64) prompts just such a presentation (lines 65–80). One cause for D&A’s reading may be the placement of a period after Offreth for ye (in line 77), which violates a clear mark of punctuation after Offreth and the capitalization and rubrication of the following For.↩back to note source

79–80 Accepte it . . . exemplifying techeth. One reading of these lines, Nall observes, is that the poet suggests “that the practice of war leads to God: ‘mighty war leads by examples to this supreme conqueror’. If so, this is an audacious claim: the author is effectively stating that the pursuit of war leads to God” (Reading and War, p. 118).↩back to note source