University of Virginia Library

When þe douk Otus þat y-seye,
Þat Gij on his hors oway fleye,
Anon he seyd to his kniȝtes:
‘Now to hors wiþ alle ȝour miȝtes;
For, ȝif he passe ous in þis biker,
Of mi liif am y nouȝt siker;
& þerfore nimeþ him anon
Als ȝe wil haue mi loue ichon.
Bot ȝe bring him me to,
We ben y-schent for euer mo.’
An hors þai lopen þan on hast,
And driuen Gij swiþe fast,
& Gij no hadde wepen non:
Wold god of heuen, þat made man,
Þat he hadde his brond kerueing!
He no hadde þer no frende him helping.
Bi þat o side oway he ginneþ fle;
Bot god of him haue pite,
Þer he worþ y-slawe anon:
Alle abouten him þai ben y-gon.
Wiþ þat þer come rideing a kniȝt,
About his swere his scheld briȝt,
& wiþ a spere opon his hond:
Toward Gij wel swiþe he wond,
& þurch þe bodi smite him wold,
Ac god of heuen it suffre nold:
Þe strok of þe spere it gan glide
Bitven þe arsoun & his side.
His blihaut he carf, his schert also.
Gij strongliche him mett þo:
Wiþ his fest he him smot so,
Þat to grounde he dede him go.
Wiþ þat sir Gij forþ him diȝt,
Ac he mett wiþ anoþer kniȝt:
Swerd he bar þat wele wald bite,
In þe heued he wald Gij smite.
Þe strok opon his hors glod
Opon þe croupe a fot brod.
Þei he war aferd no wonder nas:
Gij ferd fram him a fast pas.
He seye wiþ þat a grom cominde,
To him ward fast erninge:
A gret soule in his hond he bar,
So wold god þat it war.
Gij wel feir him bisouȝt
Ȝif him þe staf þat he brouȝt.
‘Ichil ȝeld it þe ful wel.’
‘Haue here, sir, bi seyn Miȝhel.
Wele ich þi gret nede se:
Now god fram schame kepe þe.’
He tok þat soule in his hond,
Anon forþ to hem he wond.
A Lombard wel sone he mett,
And wiþ þe soule so him grett,
Þat ded he feld him anon.
He tok his hors, & gan to gon,
& seyd to þe grom þo:
‘Þou nim þis hors, & gin to go.
Wiþ gode wille y ȝiue it þe
For þe staf þou lentest me.’
Þe knaue him þonked bliue,
Oway wiþ þe hors he gan to driue.