 | Otuel and Roland |  |
Anone Clarel to Otuel sede,
“Sey me, knyȝt, so god þe spede,
what þat thy name now be!
Thou hast y-slaw in length and Brede
an C knyȝtes of oure ferede,
Sethe y fyrst saw the.
Wel fayn y wolde thyn name bryng
To garcy, the ryche kyng,
þat ys so fayre and fre.”
“O þu coward,” sayde Otuel,
“þu Ouȝtest my name know well,—
By good þat ys in trinite!
“Sey me, knyȝt, so god þe spede,
what þat thy name now be!
Thou hast y-slaw in length and Brede
an C knyȝtes of oure ferede,
Sethe y fyrst saw the.
Wel fayn y wolde thyn name bryng
To garcy, the ryche kyng,
þat ys so fayre and fre.”
“O þu coward,” sayde Otuel,
“þu Ouȝtest my name know well,—
By good þat ys in trinite!
“ffor-sothe, my name Otuel ys;
Thou hast y-knowe or thys.
Now, mahound y haue forsake.
kyng charlys of seynt denys
Me hath y-ȝeue hys douȝter of prys,
and Crystendom, y haue take.”
“O,” quod clarel, the fayre kyng,
“Now y here a wondour thyng.
Mahound ȝeue þe wrake,
But þu by-leue on Iouyn,
Termagaunt, and appolyn,
And hem a-mendys make!”
Thou hast y-knowe or thys.
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kyng charlys of seynt denys
Me hath y-ȝeue hys douȝter of prys,
and Crystendom, y haue take.”
“O,” quod clarel, the fayre kyng,
“Now y here a wondour thyng.
Mahound ȝeue þe wrake,
But þu by-leue on Iouyn,
Termagaunt, and appolyn,
And hem a-mendys make!”
“Cur-sed be,” otuel seyde,
“Mahound and alle hys felaw-rede!
ffor-sothe, thay beȝth alle vnwrest.
who-so hem loueth, thay mowe drede.
Off goodnesse, here lawe ys gnede,
And schal be whyle it last.”
Sayde clarel, “so mahound the spede,
were we ȝend in that mede,
we-selue to alle prest,
y wolde the teche that appolyn,
Termagaunt, and Iouyn
were goddys off the best!”
“Mahound and alle hys felaw-rede!
ffor-sothe, thay beȝth alle vnwrest.
who-so hem loueth, thay mowe drede.
Off goodnesse, here lawe ys gnede,
And schal be whyle it last.”
Sayde clarel, “so mahound the spede,
were we ȝend in that mede,
we-selue to alle prest,
y wolde the teche that appolyn,
Termagaunt, and Iouyn
were goddys off the best!”
“ȝe,” sayde otuel, the good gome,
“To-morwe y wyl thyder come,
My treuthe, y the plyȝt.”
The gloue of that kyng, he had y-nome,
A-mong the knyȝtes, alle and som,
with kyng clarel to ffyȝt.
Tho the sonne to rest was gonne,
The kyng ȝede to bedde a-none,
As sone as it was nyȝt.
On morwe whanne the larke song,
And the lyȝt day, it sprong,
There rose bothe baron and knyȝt.
Clarel off hys bedde a-woke,
And cleped hys knyȝtes fote-hote,
hys wyll to don in dede,
Gamor, melyn, and memorok.
None of hem hys heste for-sok,
But duden as he hem bede.
An haketon they duden hym vppon,
And an haberioun þat bryȝt schon,
þat lyȝt was for to lete;
And þere on a corset san-fayle,—
What man so it bare in Batayle,
The lasse þrust hym drede.
“To-morwe y wyl thyder come,
My treuthe, y the plyȝt.”
The gloue of that kyng, he had y-nome,
A-mong the knyȝtes, alle and som,
with kyng clarel to ffyȝt.
Tho the sonne to rest was gonne,
The kyng ȝede to bedde a-none,
As sone as it was nyȝt.
On morwe whanne the larke song,
And the lyȝt day, it sprong,
There rose bothe baron and knyȝt.
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And cleped hys knyȝtes fote-hote,
hys wyll to don in dede,
Gamor, melyn, and memorok.
None of hem hys heste for-sok,
But duden as he hem bede.
An haketon they duden hym vppon,
And an haberioun þat bryȝt schon,
þat lyȝt was for to lete;
And þere on a corset san-fayle,—
What man so it bare in Batayle,
The lasse þrust hym drede.
Men Brouȝt hym an helm bryȝt,
þat Barnard, þe gode knyȝt,
was wont for to were.
þere-on an adderes heued aplyȝt,—
ffor-sothe it was a sely syȝt,—
In eche Batayle to bere.
and a schyld þat was vnryde,
Of garlok þat sayntes hyde,—
he was a greselyche fere!
y-paynted, it was with mahoun
Off gold, Iubiter, and yk platoun,—
and yche, y-mad with a spere.
þat Barnard, þe gode knyȝt,
was wont for to were.
þere-on an adderes heued aplyȝt,—
ffor-sothe it was a sely syȝt,—
In eche Batayle to bere.
and a schyld þat was vnryde,
Of garlok þat sayntes hyde,—
he was a greselyche fere!
y-paynted, it was with mahoun
Off gold, Iubiter, and yk platoun,—
and yche, y-mad with a spere.
fforth they fetton hym a schaft:
he þat it made couþe hys craft:
hyt was of a trew tre.
hys swerd, melyn, was hym be-tauȝt,
þere-with he hadde heuedes y-kauȝt
Off kynges, two or þre.
hys stede forþ was fette,
And kyng Clarel þere-on set,
þat semely was to se.
Two of þe knyȝtes also sket
Two spores off gold duden on hys fet,
And eyther sat on hys kne.
he þat it made couþe hys craft:
hyt was of a trew tre.
hys swerd, melyn, was hym be-tauȝt,
þere-with he hadde heuedes y-kauȝt
Off kynges, two or þre.
hys stede forþ was fette,
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þat semely was to se.
Two of þe knyȝtes also sket
Two spores off gold duden on hys fet,
And eyther sat on hys kne.
Tho thay fette here god Mahound,
And alle the sarsins of renoun,
And settyn hym a-myd the toun of Vtalye.
Than vppon here knees thay seten adown,
with alle the lordys of that toun,
And also kyng Garcye.
Thay sayden, “mahound, we the by-seche,
To-day thou be oure alder leche,
And on clarel haue mercy!
As thou art god, ful o muche myȝt,
That he mowe sle otuel in fyȝt,
That doȝth the so muche vylonye!”
And alle the sarsins of renoun,
And settyn hym a-myd the toun of Vtalye.
Than vppon here knees thay seten adown,
with alle the lordys of that toun,
And also kyng Garcye.
Thay sayden, “mahound, we the by-seche,
To-day thou be oure alder leche,
And on clarel haue mercy!
As thou art god, ful o muche myȝt,
That he mowe sle otuel in fyȝt,
That doȝth the so muche vylonye!”
Ouer that water clarel gan to ryde,
And tho sey he come on hys ryȝt syde,
Charlys, the kyng of fraunce.
The dussypers comen that tyde,
And alle here ost with muche pride,
with schyld, spere, and launce.
“Thou olde charlys,” clarel sayde,
“Swythe long thou hast ous anyede
kyng Garcy with distur-baunce.
And now thyn dayes ben agoon,
And age ys fallyn the vppon,
Thou mayst doute of my myschaunce.
And tho sey he come on hys ryȝt syde,
Charlys, the kyng of fraunce.
The dussypers comen that tyde,
And alle here ost with muche pride,
with schyld, spere, and launce.
“Thou olde charlys,” clarel sayde,
“Swythe long thou hast ous anyede
kyng Garcy with distur-baunce.
And now thyn dayes ben agoon,
And age ys fallyn the vppon,
Thou mayst doute of my myschaunce.
“Old wrecche, what dost thou here?
Thou ne art nouȝt worth fer ne ner
Schaftys ffor to schake,
hors to stryde, ne armour to bere,
A kyng to assayle with no spere,
Crounes for to Crake,
Ne emp[t] no sadyl, ne wynne no stede,
Ne do no knyȝtes sydes to blede,—
Thyn handys gynnen to quake.
ffy-a-devylys for vylony,
þat þu thretest kyng Garcy,
Suche maystryes to make!”
Thou ne art nouȝt worth fer ne ner
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hors to stryde, ne armour to bere,
A kyng to assayle with no spere,
Crounes for to Crake,
Ne emp[t] no sadyl, ne wynne no stede,
Ne do no knyȝtes sydes to blede,—
Thyn handys gynnen to quake.
ffy-a-devylys for vylony,
þat þu thretest kyng Garcy,
Suche maystryes to make!”
þo by-spake he þat was wys,
Charlys of sent denys,
To þe kyng clarel ful ryȝt:
“þrytty kynges of prys,
y haue y-slaw or þys,
In hethynesse with fyȝt.
þoruȝ grace of almyȝty god in trinite,
Thys day þu schalt on of hem be,
fful longe ere it be nyȝt.
Make þe redy þat þu were þare,
ffor myn Olde body schal be ȝare,
þoruȝ grace of god almyȝt!”
Charlys of sent denys,
To þe kyng clarel ful ryȝt:
“þrytty kynges of prys,
y haue y-slaw or þys,
In hethynesse with fyȝt.
þoruȝ grace of almyȝty god in trinite,
Thys day þu schalt on of hem be,
fful longe ere it be nyȝt.
Make þe redy þat þu were þare,
ffor myn Olde body schal be ȝare,
þoruȝ grace of god almyȝt!”
Duk Roulond stood þe kyng by.
“Mercy, lord,” he gan to crye,
“Ne com nouȝt in batayle!
þu hast knyȝtes ful hardy,
Bothe Otuel, neymes, and y,
kyng Garcy to assayle.
y wyl fyȝt with hym, y-wys,
þat hath sayde to þe amys.
hyt ne schal hym nouȝt a-vayle!”
The dussypers euerychone,
Profreden thus a-none,
That weren hye of parayle.
“Mercy, lord,” he gan to crye,
“Ne com nouȝt in batayle!
þu hast knyȝtes ful hardy,
Bothe Otuel, neymes, and y,
kyng Garcy to assayle.
y wyl fyȝt with hym, y-wys,
þat hath sayde to þe amys.
hyt ne schal hym nouȝt a-vayle!”
The dussypers euerychone,
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That weren hye of parayle.
Charlys was swythe wroth,
And to sent denys made hys oth,
That he deth he schulde be dyȝt:
“he schall wete the certayn soth
That he is to ihesu crist loth,
ȝyff he wylle kythe hys myȝt!”
Otuel gan to charlys crye,
And sayde, “for the loue of sent marye,
So leteth me with hym fyȝt!
ffor ȝesterday in the medes,
ffor hys falce wordys,
My treuthe y dude hym plyȝt.
And to sent denys made hys oth,
That he deth he schulde be dyȝt:
“he schall wete the certayn soth
That he is to ihesu crist loth,
ȝyff he wylle kythe hys myȝt!”
Otuel gan to charlys crye,
And sayde, “for the loue of sent marye,
So leteth me with hym fyȝt!
ffor ȝesterday in the medes,
ffor hys falce wordys,
My treuthe y dude hym plyȝt.
‘y schall ȝow telle euery word,’
how it be-gan, ende and ord,
The stryf be-twyn ous to.
he sayde that oure god vas nouȝt worth a tord,
And that he wold proue with dynt of swerd,
To whom that it wolde do;
And sayde that we were thourȝ hym y-lore,
That of a womman was y-bore,
and schent for euer-more;
ffor hys lesyng and for hys sawe
vppon a cros he was y-drawe:
Alle thus sayde he me to thare.
how it be-gan, ende and ord,
The stryf be-twyn ous to.
he sayde that oure god vas nouȝt worth a tord,
And that he wold proue with dynt of swerd,
To whom that it wolde do;
And sayde that we were thourȝ hym y-lore,
That of a womman was y-bore,
and schent for euer-more;
ffor hys lesyng and for hys sawe
vppon a cros he was y-drawe:
Alle thus sayde he me to thare.
‘y answered, and sayde, “nay,”
That He Was Bore of a may,
To saue al men-Kynde,
And ros & to helle toke þe way,—
þat byfyl vppon þe þrydde day,—
And satan brouȝt in bonde,
And toke þer-out ous and Adam,
And all with hym þo god nam,
And syþe þe holy gost sende,
and after hys rysyng, vp-sty
To hys fadyr vp an hy.
þys we hauen in mynde.
That He Was Bore of a may,
To saue al men-Kynde,
And ros & to helle toke þe way,—
þat byfyl vppon þe þrydde day,—
And satan brouȝt in bonde,
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And all with hym þo god nam,
And syþe þe holy gost sende,
and after hys rysyng, vp-sty
To hys fadyr vp an hy.
þys we hauen in mynde.
‘Off my wordys he ne helde no pryse,
And Cleped me, “schrew, vnwys!”
And lew me to skorne & game.’
Tho sayde Charlys of seynt denys,
“Otuel, as tou sayst, it ys.
Go fyȝt in godys name!”
þe dussyperes weren alle prest,
To arme Otuel of þe best,
Thay spedden al in same.
Duk roulond, an helm fette,
And on hys heued he hyt sette,
þat was with-owten blame.
And Cleped me, “schrew, vnwys!”
And lew me to skorne & game.’
Tho sayde Charlys of seynt denys,
“Otuel, as tou sayst, it ys.
Go fyȝt in godys name!”
þe dussyperes weren alle prest,
To arme Otuel of þe best,
Thay spedden al in same.
Duk roulond, an helm fette,
And on hys heued he hyt sette,
þat was with-owten blame.
þe helm was worþ muche þyng;
hit auȝt sumtyme an heþen kyng
Off Babylone, þe sawdan.
And syre Olyuer, on hying,
A scharp spere gan hym bryngge,
In spayne, hym-self it wan.
Thenne henged thay a-boute hys swyre
A schyld that was ryche and dere,
That hym ȝaf hys lemman;
Thre swerdys of syluer bryȝt,
and thre swerdys with gold y-dyȝt,
with many a ryche ston.
Men brouȝten hym a stede broun
And two spores that were boun,
On hys helys thay ham dyȝt;
he lep to hors and nouȝt abode,
Ouer the water otwel rod,
With the grace of god almyȝt.
Thanne hym spak kyng clarel,
“Artou y-come, syre otwel,
As thou me be-hyȝt?
Thou art welcome to batayle,
Thou myȝte be fayn samfayle.
Aȝens suche a kene knyȝt.
hit auȝt sumtyme an heþen kyng
Off Babylone, þe sawdan.
And syre Olyuer, on hying,
A scharp spere gan hym bryngge,
In spayne, hym-self it wan.
Thenne henged thay a-boute hys swyre
A schyld that was ryche and dere,
That hym ȝaf hys lemman;
Thre swerdys of syluer bryȝt,
and thre swerdys with gold y-dyȝt,
with many a ryche ston.
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And two spores that were boun,
On hys helys thay ham dyȝt;
he lep to hors and nouȝt abode,
Ouer the water otwel rod,
With the grace of god almyȝt.
Thanne hym spak kyng clarel,
“Artou y-come, syre otwel,
As thou me be-hyȝt?
Thou art welcome to batayle,
Thou myȝte be fayn samfayle.
Aȝens suche a kene knyȝt.
“Thou schalt wete er thou gon,
That thou haddyst beter ben at hom
Thanne hedyr come to suche a thyng.
ffor thou mayst wel wete with-oute fayle,
That y am y-come of heye parayle,
And am a gret lordyng.”
“ȝe,” quod otwel, “thouȝ thow be strong,
Alle it is in god long,
That ys alle weldyng.
ȝut to-day schulle we that se,
That god ys bettyr in trinite
Thanne Mahoun and all hys Ospryng.”
That thou haddyst beter ben at hom
Thanne hedyr come to suche a thyng.
ffor thou mayst wel wete with-oute fayle,
That y am y-come of heye parayle,
And am a gret lordyng.”
“ȝe,” quod otwel, “thouȝ thow be strong,
Alle it is in god long,
That ys alle weldyng.
ȝut to-day schulle we that se,
That god ys bettyr in trinite
Thanne Mahoun and all hys Ospryng.”
no lengyr they wolde abyde,
but to-gedyr thay gonne Ryde,
As folke that weren fone,
with grete sperys & vnryde,
so that they bothe fyllen in that tyde
Ryȝt ther to grownd anon.
But vp thay sprong, so yt ys wrete,
and aftyrsones to-gyder thay smyte,
that men hyt seyon vchone.
the schaftys were stronge and gode,
the knyȝtys scheuyn as they were wode.
ne was ther no bettyr wone!
heyr peytrelys broston atwo,
and the gerthys al-so,
her scheldes fellen to grownde.
the knyȝtys weren ful wo,
to grounde thay ȝede bothe two
In that ilke stownde;
and eythers stede went forthe,
that on, sowthe, that othyr, north,
that weren fayre and Rownd.
thanne sayde Roulond to belysent,
that was the kynges douȝtur gent,
“here ys a fayre fyȝt y-fownde!”
but to-gedyr thay gonne Ryde,
As folke that weren fone,
with grete sperys & vnryde,
so that they bothe fyllen in that tyde
Ryȝt ther to grownd anon.
But vp thay sprong, so yt ys wrete,
and aftyrsones to-gyder thay smyte,
that men hyt seyon vchone.
the schaftys were stronge and gode,
the knyȝtys scheuyn as they were wode.
ne was ther no bettyr wone!
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and the gerthys al-so,
her scheldes fellen to grownde.
the knyȝtys weren ful wo,
to grounde thay ȝede bothe two
In that ilke stownde;
and eythers stede went forthe,
that on, sowthe, that othyr, north,
that weren fayre and Rownd.
thanne sayde Roulond to belysent,
that was the kynges douȝtur gent,
“here ys a fayre fyȝt y-fownde!”
sythe, he sayd, that he was bore,
“ne sey y neuer her by-fore
suche two men of myȝtys.
thouȝ a man fouȝt syxti skore,
ne schulde he fynde none douȝtyer,
ne suche othyr to knyȝtys.”
tho sayd Oliuer, that dussyper,
And the Abbot of seynt Omer,
that yt was a fayre fyȝtys.
tho sayd belysent that may,
“God saue Otuell to-day,
ffor hys moche myȝtys!”
“ne sey y neuer her by-fore
suche two men of myȝtys.
thouȝ a man fouȝt syxti skore,
ne schulde he fynde none douȝtyer,
ne suche othyr to knyȝtys.”
tho sayd Oliuer, that dussyper,
And the Abbot of seynt Omer,
that yt was a fayre fyȝtys.
tho sayd belysent that may,
“God saue Otuell to-day,
ffor hys moche myȝtys!”
the knyȝtys eft to-gedyr ȝede,
to fyȝt on fote thay most nede,
here stedys weren schent.
Off helmes [and] hauberk in lenthe and brede,
the fyr sprange oute as sparcle of glede,—
so stronge was others dynt!
Clarel with hys swerd of stel,
so harde strokys he smote to Otuel,
to sle hym he hadde ment.
kyng Clarell was nyȝ wood,
ffor that Otuel so longe aȝen hym stode,
and for harme that he hent.
to fyȝt on fote thay most nede,
here stedys weren schent.
Off helmes [and] hauberk in lenthe and brede,
the fyr sprange oute as sparcle of glede,—
so stronge was others dynt!
Clarel with hys swerd of stel,
so harde strokys he smote to Otuel,
to sle hym he hadde ment.
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ffor that Otuel so longe aȝen hym stode,
and for harme that he hent.
he hytte hym on the helme an heye,
that golde & stonys a-down flye,
al of hys helme so Rownde.
thouȝ Otuel were of werre sly,
he nas neuer hys deth so ny:
he fylle in swowe on the grownd.
kyng Charlys to Ihesu gan speke:
“lord,” he sayd, “thou me a-wreke
vppon thys hethen hounde,
And schyld from schame thys crystyn knyȝt,
that he be nouȝt slayn in thys fyȝt,
In the worchyp of thy wownde!”
that golde & stonys a-down flye,
al of hys helme so Rownde.
thouȝ Otuel were of werre sly,
he nas neuer hys deth so ny:
he fylle in swowe on the grownd.
kyng Charlys to Ihesu gan speke:
“lord,” he sayd, “thou me a-wreke
vppon thys hethen hounde,
And schyld from schame thys crystyn knyȝt,
that he be nouȝt slayn in thys fyȝt,
In the worchyp of thy wownde!”
Syr Otuel, that gode knyȝt,
stert vp tho a-none ryȝt,
and was nothyng aferd,
and thouȝt that hys body wolde brest aplyȝt,
but he myȝt be a-wreke anone ryȝt
with Cursins, hys swerde.
he smote hym on the helme anone,
that a quarter of hym away gan gone,
bothe hys schelde and hys berde.
ffor-sothe the boke wytnesseth,
that men myȝt sen hys tethe,
bothe lewed & lered.
stert vp tho a-none ryȝt,
and was nothyng aferd,
and thouȝt that hys body wolde brest aplyȝt,
but he myȝt be a-wreke anone ryȝt
with Cursins, hys swerde.
he smote hym on the helme anone,
that a quarter of hym away gan gone,
bothe hys schelde and hys berde.
ffor-sothe the boke wytnesseth,
that men myȝt sen hys tethe,
bothe lewed & lered.
tho lowe Otuel & sayd:
“y sawe neuer, so god me rede,
sythe that y was bore,
neuer man in knyȝtys wede,
Al-so fer as y haue rede,
a berd so clene y-schore.
So god me saue and sent sauour,
Now ys cursins a good rasour,
hyt were harm that it were lore!
hyt ys scharp, and that ys sene.
hyt hath y-schaue thy berd ful Clene,
That ther nyl last no more!
“y sawe neuer, so god me rede,
sythe that y was bore,
neuer man in knyȝtys wede,
Al-so fer as y haue rede,
a berd so clene y-schore.
105
Now ys cursins a good rasour,
hyt were harm that it were lore!
hyt ys scharp, and that ys sene.
hyt hath y-schaue thy berd ful Clene,
That ther nyl last no more!
“Now be þou syker in alle thyng:
Nyl neuer Garcy, the kyng,
By-leue on þe after thys;
Ney-þer enfame, þat fayre thyng,
Sche nyl na more of thy playyng,
ne ffor no loue the kysse.
Now thy be-houeþ to grenne,
And to make þe to mowe on menne,
ffor thy mouth syttyth alle on mys.
Now ne helpþ the nouȝt thy god mahound,
Iubiter, ne þat lyþeren platoun,
That þou ne art syker of thys!”
Nyl neuer Garcy, the kyng,
By-leue on þe after thys;
Ney-þer enfame, þat fayre thyng,
Sche nyl na more of thy playyng,
ne ffor no loue the kysse.
Now thy be-houeþ to grenne,
And to make þe to mowe on menne,
ffor thy mouth syttyth alle on mys.
Now ne helpþ the nouȝt thy god mahound,
Iubiter, ne þat lyþeren platoun,
That þou ne art syker of thys!”
kyng Clarel to hym-self sayde:
‘Allas, that y be-gan thys dede
A-ȝeynes þat cristen knyȝt!
þouȝ y sle hym in thys mede,
Alle the world in lengthe and Brede
Schal me skorne a-plyȝt.
“None fayrer knyȝt myȝt by founde,
And now he grenneȝ as an hounde,
Both day and nyȝt.”
he schall abye, be Appolyn!’
And with hys swerd, melyn,
to deth he wolde hym dyȝt. [OMITTED]
Syr Otuel his dynt wel sye,
and kept it on hys schylde.
kyng Clarel tho fast fly,
And clef Otuel hys targe ato ney,
that halfe fley in the felde,
And thoruȝ Otuel had be born,—
Ne hadde ben hys haberioun,
syr Otuel hadde he queld.
Off that strok Clarel was blythe,
And sayd, “ȝyf y the hytte anothyr sythe,
thy lyf hys adoun feld.”
‘Allas, that y be-gan thys dede
A-ȝeynes þat cristen knyȝt!
þouȝ y sle hym in thys mede,
Alle the world in lengthe and Brede
Schal me skorne a-plyȝt.
“None fayrer knyȝt myȝt by founde,
And now he grenneȝ as an hounde,
Both day and nyȝt.”
he schall abye, be Appolyn!’
And with hys swerd, melyn,
to deth he wolde hym dyȝt. [OMITTED]
Syr Otuel his dynt wel sye,
and kept it on hys schylde.
106
And clef Otuel hys targe ato ney,
that halfe fley in the felde,
And thoruȝ Otuel had be born,—
Ne hadde ben hys haberioun,
syr Otuel hadde he queld.
Off that strok Clarel was blythe,
And sayd, “ȝyf y the hytte anothyr sythe,
thy lyf hys adoun feld.”
thanne sayd Otuel, ‘y haue ment,
that myn schal be that other dent,
as y am a trewe knyȝt.
To fyȝt fast, wyl y nouȝt stent,
that feer flye out as sparkyl of flynt,
Out of helm and hauberk bryȝt.”
with Cursins that byttyr bot
to kyng Clarel he smote,
thorowe-oute the helme aplyȝt.
kyng Clarell fyl tho a-down.
tho men myȝt se that ys god Mahoun
was but of lytyl myȝt.
that myn schal be that other dent,
as y am a trewe knyȝt.
To fyȝt fast, wyl y nouȝt stent,
that feer flye out as sparkyl of flynt,
Out of helm and hauberk bryȝt.”
with Cursins that byttyr bot
to kyng Clarel he smote,
thorowe-oute the helme aplyȝt.
kyng Clarell fyl tho a-down.
tho men myȝt se that ys god Mahoun
was but of lytyl myȝt.
Syr Otuel na more ne gradde,
And the sarisins were ful madde,
for Clarel, the kyng.
the dussypers tho forthe Otuel ladde,
And thonkyd god that thay hym hadde,
And had ouercome that fytyng.
kyng Garcy and hys knytys
to the temple ȝede anon ryȝtys,
And kneleden elde & ȝong,
And cryed on Mahoun, and Appolyn,
Termagaunt, and Iouyn:
“why suffur ȝe all thys thyng,—
that Clarel hath lore the swete?
so ofte as hym ȝe hadde hete,
whenne he wolde by-gynne!
And kyng Charles we schull mete,
And with grysly lawnces hym grete,
All cristendom to wynne.
All thouȝ y make to the my mone,
ȝe stondyn stylle as ony stone,
No word nyl ȝe mynne.
y wene that ȝe ben domne & def,
On ȝow was all my bylef
More thanne to alle my kynne.
And the sarisins were ful madde,
for Clarel, the kyng.
the dussypers tho forthe Otuel ladde,
And thonkyd god that thay hym hadde,
And had ouercome that fytyng.
kyng Garcy and hys knytys
to the temple ȝede anon ryȝtys,
And kneleden elde & ȝong,
And cryed on Mahoun, and Appolyn,
Termagaunt, and Iouyn:
“why suffur ȝe all thys thyng,—
107
so ofte as hym ȝe hadde hete,
whenne he wolde by-gynne!
And kyng Charles we schull mete,
And with grysly lawnces hym grete,
All cristendom to wynne.
All thouȝ y make to the my mone,
ȝe stondyn stylle as ony stone,
No word nyl ȝe mynne.
y wene that ȝe ben domne & def,
On ȝow was all my bylef
More thanne to alle my kynne.
for longe ȝe haue for-hete,
y wene that ȝe most be bete,
howe so it euer byfalle.”
lothe hym was longe to threte;
he dud fette stonys grete
To-forn Hym in the halle.
All hys goddys he ȝaf a cloute,
he ȝaf hem strokys, styf & stoute.
“harawe!” they ganne to calle.
he brake bothe legges and swere,
And kest hem bothe in-to the fere,
Mahoun, and hem all.
y wene that ȝe most be bete,
howe so it euer byfalle.”
lothe hym was longe to threte;
he dud fette stonys grete
To-forn Hym in the halle.
All hys goddys he ȝaf a cloute,
he ȝaf hem strokys, styf & stoute.
“harawe!” they ganne to calle.
he brake bothe legges and swere,
And kest hem bothe in-to the fere,
Mahoun, and hem all.
Here by-gynneth a batayle sykerly
Off Charlys and of kyng Garcy,
that wondyr yt ys to here,
And howe Garcy y-cristened was.
herkeneth nowe a mery pas,—
I pray ȝowe nowe all in fere!
Off Charlys and of kyng Garcy,
that wondyr yt ys to here,
And howe Garcy y-cristened was.
herkeneth nowe a mery pas,—
I pray ȝowe nowe all in fere!
| Otuel and Roland | |