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All charge of þis chaunse, chefe how it will,
Ercules vppon hond hertely has tane;
He sped hym vnto spart, sparit he noght,
Þat a cuntre is cald of þe coste of Rome.
Tow brether full bold abidyng þer-in,
Bothe kynges of þe kythe, Caster was one,
And Pollux, þe proude, pristly þat other.
As poyetis han put, plainly þo two
Were getyn by a gode on a grete lady,
Þe fairest of ffeturs þat euer on fote yode:
And a suster to þe same, sothly, was Elyn,
Getyn of þe same god in a goode tyme.
To these kynges he come & his cause tolde,
And to haue of hor helpe hertely dissyred,
And þai graunted hym full goodly with a glad chere.
Þen he lacches his leue and þai lordes þonkit,
Suet forth to (Salame) in a sad haste,
Þat gouernet was in gryse by a gome noble,—
One Telamon trewly, as þe text sayse,
Þat was kyng in the coste & þe coron hade,—
A bold man in batell & byg in his Rewme.
Ercules of helpe hym hertely besoght,
And he grauntid to goo with a good wille,
With mony bold men in batell and biggest in Armes.
To Pelleus pertly þen past he agayne,
Assemblid of Soudiours a full sadde pepull,
Of the tidiest of Tessaile, tore men of strenght.
Þen to Philon þe freike ferkit in haste,
To a Duke þat was derffe & doughti of honde,
Nestor, A noble man naitest in werre,
Þat hade louyt hym of long, & his lefe frynde;
He hight hym full hertely þat he haue sholde
ffertheryng to his fight with a fre wille.
Þen leues þe lede & of lond paste
To Pelleus pristly, þat puruiaunce hade made
Of twenty shippes full shene, shot on þe depe,
All redy to the Roode of þe roghe ythes,
With mony barons full bold & buernes þer-in.
Þen comyn thies kynges fro þer kyth evyn,
Saylyng full sound with seasonable wyndes;
At Tessaile full tyte turnyt into havyn,
ffor to fare to þere ffoos with a ffryke wille.
Þus it tyd as I telle þe tyme of þe yere,
Þe sun in his sercle was set vppon high,
Entrid into Aries vnder a signe,
And euyn like of a lenght þe light & þe derke.
Þe cloudes wax clere, clensit the ayre;
Wynter away, watris were calme;
Stormes were still, þe sternes full clere,
Ȝeforus softe wyndis Soberly blew;
Bowes in bright holtes buriont full faire;
Greuys wex grene and þe ground swete;
Swoghyng of swete ayre, Swalyng of briddes;
Medowes & mounteyns myngit with ffloures,
Colord by course as þaire kynd askit.
At Mid Aprille, the mone when myrthes begyn,
The season full softe of þe salt water,
And the bremnes abated of the brode ythes,
Thies kynges, with knightes in companies grete,
Past fro port, pulled vp þere sailes,
Were borne to þe brode se & the banke leuyt;
Sailed fourthe soberly with seasonable windes
Till þai comen [to] the cost, as þe course felle,
Of the terage of Troy & turnyt into hauyn,
Þat sothly was said Segeas to nome.
By thies rialles aryven were, to rest was þe sun,
And neghed to þe night, noy was þe more:
Kaste ancres full kene into þe (cold) water,
Cogges with cablis cachyn to londe,
And lay so on lone the long night ouer.
Wen the derke was done & the day sprange,
And lightid o lofte ledis to beholde,
The Grekys in hor geyre graithid hom to banke,
Launchid vp lightly lordis and other.
The kyng had no knawlache, þat the kith aght,
Of the folke so furse þat hym affray wold,
ffor-þi vnkeppit were þe costes all þe kythe ouer.
Þai hailit vp horses & hernes of maile,
Armur and all thinge euyn as hom liked:
Tild vp þere tentis tomly and faire,
Skairen out skoute-wacche for skeltyng of harme,
Armyn hom at all peces after anon.
Er the sun vp soght with his softe beames,
Pelleus full prestly the peopull did warne
To appere in his presens, princes and dukys.
With-out tarying to his tent tytly þai yode,
And were set all samyn þe souerain before.
When the peopull were pesit he proffert þes wordes,—
Sais, “Ye noblist of nome þat neuer man adouted,
The worde of your werkes & your wight dedis,
And the prise of your prowes passes o fer!
Hit was neuer herd, as I hope, sith heuyn was o loft,
In any coste where ye come but ye were clene victorius,
And happet the herre hond to haue at þe last.
Lamydon, þat is lord, has vs ledde hedur,
ffor to wreke vs of wrathe, & þe wegh harme:
Þat is the cause of the course þat we come hidur.
And syn our goddes haue vs graunt þe ground for to haue,
Hit is spede-full to speike of our spede fur,
And of gouernaunce graithe at our gret nede,
ffor to fillyn our fare & our fos harme;
Hald all our hestes, harmles our-seluyn;
The tresour to take þat to Troy longes,
Þat us abides in the burgh & we þe better haue.
Hit is knowen in cuntres & costis o fer,
Þat the tresour of Troy is of tyme olde,
Out of nowmber to nem & nedefull to vs;
Iff vs fallus in fight þe fairer at ende,
We shall haue riches full riffe & red gold ynogh
Our ffyne shippes to fille and our fraght make:
Now fraist we before how fairest wille be,
And speike for our spede while we space haue.”

ERCULES.

Then Ercules the Avntrus onswarid Anon,—
“Sothely, Sir kyng, ye haue said well,
Wise wordes I-wis & of wit noble;
Iff it be worship & wit wisdom to shewe,
Hit [is] sothely more soueran to see it in werke.
I will say for myself, sauyng a bettur,
As me thinkes full throly with-outyn threp more.
Let us dres for our dede er þe day springe,
And thrugh lemys of light þe lond vs perseyue:
Part we vs pertly þe pupull in two,
In the ton shall be Telamon, þat is a tore kyng,
With all the fere þat hym folowes, furse men of Armys;
And ȝe sothely your-selfe, þat soueran are here,
With your company clene as ye come hider.
Jason full iustly aioynet to my-seluon,
With a soume of soudiours assignet vs with,
Draw furthe in the derke er þe day springe,
Wyn us to þe wallis, wacche þere vndur,
Vmset all the Citie er þe sun rise;
Lurke vnder leuys logget with vines
Till tithaundes in toune be told to þe kyng,
Of our come to þis coste, and þe case wist.
He will aray hym full rad with a route noble,
And shape hym to our shippes with his shene knightes;
Vnwar of our werkes wete vs not þere.
Þat oþer part of our pupull put we in thre;
Nestor with a nombur of noble men all,
ffare shall before the forward to lede:
Castor with his company come next after,
Pollux with his pupull pursu on the laste.
These batels on the banke abide now here,
ffeght with hym fuersly and his fell pupull;
The Citie to sese in þe same tyme,
We shall found by my feith, or ellis fay worthe:
So may we sonyst the souerain distrye.
To werke on this wise and our wille haue,
I hope it shall happon in a hond w[h]ile.”
Hit likit well þe lordes þat þe lede said,
And plainly the pupull purpast perfore.
Then Telamon full tyte with a triet pupull,
Pelleus with a power, & þe prise Ercules,
Jason full iustly and Joly knightes moo,
With all the here þat þei hade highet belyue,
Armet at all peces abull to fight;
Wonen vp wynly vppon wale horses,
Silen to the Citie softly and faire;
Lurkyt vnder lefe-sals loget with vines,
Busket vndur bankes on bourders with-oute.
Þes oþer batels at the banke abidyng full stille,
The kyng for to kepe and þere course holde.
And whiles þese renkes þus rest þan rises þe sun,
Bredis with his beames all þe brode vales.
Hit was noiset anon þat a noumbur hoge
Of Grekes were gedret & þe grounde hade.
When þe kyng hade knowyng he comaund beliue
Þat the Citye samyn were assemblet In haste,
Iche buerne on his best wise batell to yelde.
Comyn to þe kyng in companies grete,
Mony stithe man in stoure on stedis enarmyt,
All redy for þe rode Arayet for the werre.
The kyng depertid his pupull, put hom in twyn,
In batels on his best wise for boldyng hym-seluyn.
Vnwar of þe weghes þat by the walles lay,
(He knew not the caste of þe curste pepull,
Ne dred no dissait þat hym derit after,)
He busket to þe banke with a bolde chere,
With his freikes in filde to þe fight on þe playne.
Þe Grekes hym agayne with a grym ffare,
ffaryn to þe fight with a frike wille.
Duke Nestor anon, nobli arayed,
Countres the kyng with a cant pupull:
Bothe batels on bent brusshet to-gedur;
With stithe strokes and store, strong men of armys,
Shildes throgh shote shalkes to dethe;
Speires vnto sprottes sprongen ouer hedes,
So fuerse was the frusshe when þai first met.
All dynnet þe dyn the dales Aboute,
When helmes and hard stele hurlet to-gedur;
Knightes cast doune to þe cold vrthe.
Sum swalt in a swym with-outen sware more,
Mony perysshet in þe plase er þe prise endit.
The Troiens were tydé, & tid þere þe bettur,
And the grekes on þe ground were greatly as-toynet.
Þen Castor the kyng comys vpponone,
Restoris hom with strenght þat distroyet were.
Þen þe crie wax kene, crusshyng of wepyns,
And the fight so felle of þe fresshe knightes,
Þe Troiens were torne tynte of þere folkes.
Lamydon, þat hom led, as a lion fore,
Bare don mony bolde & brittonede to dethe;
Mony kilde the kyng to þe cold vrthe,
Mony woundit we from his weppont paste.
So fuersly he fore with his felle dynttes,
Þat þe Grekes with gremy geuyn hym way.
Þen Pollux aperit with pepull ynogh,
Brusshit into batell & moche bale wroght;
Alse wode of his wit as þe wild ffyre,
Mony bolde buerne on þe bent the bold king (slogh),
Mony turnyt with tene topsayles ouer,
Þat hurlet to þe hard vrthe & þere horse leuyt.
Lamydon at the laste lokit besyde,
Segh his folke so fare & his fos kene,
ffor wothe of þe worse & of weirdis feble,
He with-drogh hym A draght & a dyn made,
Gedrit all his gynge And his grounde held.
Duke Nestor Anon nemly persayuit
Þat he was prinse of þe pepull & þe power led,
He left all his ledis & a launse caght,
Launches euyn to Lamydon with a light wille.
Þe king consayuit his come, keppit hym swithe,
Ricchis his reynys & th Reenke metys:
Girden to-gedur with þere grete speires.
The king share thrugh his shild with þe sharpe ende,
And the rod all-to roofe right to his honde;
The Duke had dyed of þe dynt doutles anon,
But the souerayn hym-seluon was surly enarmyt,
And the kyng with the caupe caste to þe ground,
With a warchand wounde thurgh his wedis all.
He feynyt not for þe fall ne þe felle hurtte,
But stert vp stithly, straght out a swerde
And flange at the freike with a ffyn wille.
A ȝonge knight and a ȝepe, ȝyueris of hert,
High[t] Sedar for sothe, suet to þe Duke
With a bir on þe brest, þat backeward he ȝode,
And fuersly of his foole fell to þe grounde.
Þe king fayne of þe falle and þe freke segh,
And bare to þe bolde with a bigge sworde.
The bourder of his basnet brestes in sonder,
And videt the viser with a vile dynt,
Gaffe hym a great wounde in his grete face.
He hade slayne hym slighly for sleght þat he couth,
But a gret nowmbur of Grekes gedrit hym vmbe,
And put hym fro purpas þof þai payn þolit:
Þai hurlet hym fro horse fete & of hond toke,
Set hym in his sadill þof he vnsound were.
Castor the king conceyuit beliue,
That Nestor with noy was nolpit to ground,
He Richet his Reynes and his roile stroke,
Suet vnto Sedar with a sore wepyn,
To deyre hym with a dynt for þe Dukes sake.
And er he come to the king, so his course fell,
One caupet with hym kenely, a cosyn of Sedars,
And set hym a sad dynt, Secorda he high[t]:
His shafte all-to sheuerit the shalke was unhurt,
And Castor in the caupyng the knight euyll wondyt,
A Sore dynt in the syde at the same coursse.
Sedar was sory for sake of his cosyn,
Carue euyn at Castor with a kene sworde,
Þe shilde away share vnto the shyre necke,
And all þe haspes of his helme þat þe hede ȝemyt;
With a swinge of his sworde swappit hym in þe fase,
Bare hym ouer backeward to þe bare vrthe.
When þe freke was fallen & on foote light,
He laid vppon lyuely & no lede sparit,
Ȝald hym not ȝet for ȝynernes of hert.
Þan pollux full pertly aprochet in hast
With seuyn hundrithe sad men assemblit hym with,
ffrochit into þe frount & a fray made;
Bere backeward the batell & his brother toke,
Horsit hym in haste, halpe hym olofte;
And pollux with a proude wille prickit to an-oþer,
One Eliatus, a lede, and hym o liue broght.
The kynges son of Cartage & a knight noble,
Aliet vnto Lamydon by his lefe suster,
Cosyn to the kyng, & he his kyde Em,
Pité of þat pert knight persit his hert,
Þat the shire water shot ouer his shene chekys.
Myche woo hade þe wegh for þe wale knight,
And assemblit his sad men on a soppe hole,
With a horne þat he hade, in a hond while,
(Seuyn thousand be sowme all of sure knightes,)
And charget hom chefely for chaunse vppon vrthe,
ffor to dere for the dethe of his dere cosyn.
Þen the Troiens full tite tariet no lengur,
Gird euyn to the Grekes with a grym fare;
Slogh hom downe sleghly & slaunge hom to grounde;
Wondit of þe wightist, warpide hom vnder;
Put hom fuersly to flight, folowet hom after
To the banke of the brode see þere botis were leuit.
þere Lamydon þem leuyt, for a lede come
With tithynges fro the towne told to the kyng;
One Dotes, with dyntes þat dedly was wondyt,
Said the Citie was sesit & sad men þere-in,
Of our fos full fell, fuerse men in Armys,
A grete nowmber of Grekis, & þe goodes takyn.
Þe kyng for þat care coldit at his hert,
And siket full sore with sylyng of teris,
Henttes his horne and hastily blawes;
Assemblit his sad men on a sop holle,
Left the Grekes on þe ground by the gray water:
Soght to þe Citie on soppes to-gedur
Tho þat left were on lyue þogh þai lite were.
The kyng in his comyng kest vp his egh,
Segh a batell full breme fro þe burghe come
Prickand full prest vppon proude stedys.
He blusshed ouer backeward to þe brode see,
Se the Grekys come girdand with a grym noise,
Þat fled were before & þe fild leuyt.
He was astonyet full stithly to be stad so,
Betwene the batels on bent & so bare leuyt,
Vmfoldyng with his fos þat he ne fle might.
Þen to batell on bent þai busket anon,
A felle fight & a fuerse fell hom betwene.
But vnmete was the Macche at þe mene tyme:
The Grekes were grym, of a grete nowmber,
And lite of þat other lede, þat on lyue were.
The Troiens full tyte were tyrnyt to þe grounde
With batell on bothe halfes, blody beronyn,
Wyde woundes & wete of hor wale dyntes.
Ercules yreful euer vponone,
Pricket furthe into prise and full playne made,
Gird gomes vnto grounde with vngayn strokes,
Bere the batell a-bake, mony buerne qwellid.
The freke was so fuerse, the[y] fled of his gate;
All shodurt as shepe shont of his way,
Non so derffe to endure a dynt of his hond,
ffor all loste þe lyfe þat þe lede touchet.

THE DETH OF LAMYDON BY ERCULES.

Tyll he come to þe kyng in a kene yre,
Dang hym derffly don in a ded hate,
Grippit hym grymly, gird of his hede,
Þrew it into þronge of his þro pepull;
Þat moche sorowe for þe sight & sobbyng of teres,
When þaire kyng was kylt, hom be course felle.
Sesit was the Citie, socour non þere,
Þaire fomen so felle, and so few other,
The Grekes gird hom to grounde & to grym dethe:
Of the dite & þe dyn was dole to be-holde.
The Troiens with tene turnyt þe bake,
ffleddon in fere and þe filde leuyt,
Ouer hilles & hethes into holte woddes,
Þat left were on lyue with mony laithe hurtes,
When the Grekys hade the gre & the grounde wonen.

THE TAKYNG OF ÞE TOWNE.

Thai soght into the Cité vpon sere haluys,
Streght into stretis and into stronge houses,
There were wemen to wale, A wondurfull nowmbur,
Childer full choise and of chere febill,
Wyth olde ffolke vnfere ferly to see.
All tight to þe tempull of þere tore goddes,
ffor drede of the dethe, & myche dynne made.
Mony wyues, for woo, of þere wit past,
And þere barnes on brest bere In þere armes,
Hyd hom in houles and hyrnys aboute.
Maydons for mornyng haue þere mynde loste,
(Soche payne of a pepull was pitie to be-holde)
Hurlet out of houses, and no hede toke
Of golde ne of garmenttes, ne of goode stonys;
ffongit no florence, ne no fyn pesys,
Gemys ne gewellis, ne no ioly vessell,
But all left in hor loges & lurkit away.
The Grekes were full gredy, grippit hom belyue,
Prayen and pyken mony priuey chambur,
ffongit þere florence and oþer fyn gold,
Geton girduls full gay, mony good stonys;
Wele wantid no wegh wale what hom liste.
A monyth on þis maner meuyt no ferre,
But soughton vp the Cité vpon sere haluys,
Grippit vp the grounde, girdyn doun þe wallys,
Prowde pales of prise puttyn to grounde;
Brent vp the byggynges & full bare maden;
The temple ouer-turnyt, tokon þe folke,
Dydden all to the dethe & for ne drede lettyd;
Wemen, wale childur, & other weike pupull,
Madens full mony & of mete Age,
Sesit hom sone in seruage to holde.

EXIONA, THE KINGES DOUGHTER LAMYDON.

When the pales was put doun of þe prise kyng,
Þai fonde þer a fre faire to be-holde,
Euyn of his owne doughter Exiona was callid.
Bannet worthe the bale tyme þat ho borne was,
ffor the care þat þere come because of hir one.
Ercules egerly euyn vponone
Betoke hir to Telamon, for he the towne entrid,
In reward as by right for his ranke wille.

POETA.

But caitif unclene, for thy curst dede!
Syn the fortune felle þat faire into honde,
Þat was cumly and clene and a kinges doughter,
Þou shuld have holdyn þat hynd, had hir þi-selfe,
Weddit with worship and to wife holdyn.
And þou so doggetly has done in þi derfe hate,
Þrast hir vnder þraldam with þi þro hert,
To a kyng þat is curst, of vnclene lyfe,
ffor to lede in his lechery all his lyfe after.
Thurgh vnhappe of þat hynde, þat þou a hore mase,
Myche greuaunce shall groo & a gronnd hate;
Wer wakyn & wo for þi wickede dede,
Mony boldes for þat bright in batell be kylde.

When the toune was ouertyrnyt, takyn þe godys,
Þe Grekes to þe gray water gyrdyn belyue;
Shottyn into shippes all þe shene godis,
Launchet furthe lightly & the lond passit,
Girdon ouer the grym waghes into grece samyn.
All þere lordes were light þat þai lyffe hade,
ffayne of þere fortune & þere fine relikes,
Didyn sacrifice solempne vnto sere goddes.
All þere Rewmes wax riche, hade relikes ynowe,
And long tyme with hom last & þere lefe children.
When the Cité was sesit, as I said ere,
And Lamydon the lege kyng out of lyfe broght,
Wemyn & wale children vnto wo put,
Set vnder seruage, sorow for euer,
The kynges doughter caght & out of kythe led,
And in horedam holdyn, harme was þe more.
Se now the sorow þat þere suet after;
And yche wegh þat is wise & of wit stable,
Light harmes Let ouer-passe, Lap noght in yre
ffor foly þat may falle of a felle hert.

A PROUERBE.

A word þat is wrappid, and in wrath holdyn,
May feston as a fyre with a fuerse lowe,
Of a sparke unaspied, spred vnder askys,
May feston vp fyre to mony freike sorow;
So lurkes with lordes of a light wrathe,
Þat growes into gronnd harme, greuys full sore.
(Happye) is þe here In no hate lengis,
Ne letis bele in his brest wherof bale rises,
Ne mynnes no malis þat is of mynd past;
As yt happes here harme for to come,
And wreke to be wroght for wordes a few;
Soche a kyng to be kylde, A cuntre distroyed,
ffele folke forfaren with a ffeble ende.
Gyf an end hade ben now, & neuer noyet efter,
Bothe of lure & of los, & oure lorde wolde,
Hit was euyn bot a venture of Angur to come,
And a Sesyn of sorow þat þere suet after.
Right as Lamydon þe lorde was of lyue broght,
ffor he grethit with þe Grekys þat on his ground lay;
So þis Maidon shalbe mater of full mekull harme,
And mony londes to lure þat euer ho lyffe hade.
Lo, how fortune is felle & of fer caste,
Þat drawes in a dede hate in a derke wille,
And of a litill hath likyng a low for to kyndull,
Þat hepis into harme in a hond while!
By þis mater I meane what myschefe befell,
Þere no cause was to ken but vnkynd wordes.
And while þis Lady was on lyffe in a lond fer,
And all thies maters in mynde, þat I mene here,
Grete Troy was vp tild with mony toures vmbe,
Þat was meruelously [made], & mekell to shew,
And Sesyt was sython & to sorow broght,
And mony kynges were kyld & knightes þerfore.
What ledys were lost & of lyue done,
Now I turne for to telle, whill I tyme haue.

OFF KING PRYAM & HIS CHILDREN.

This Lamydon, þat was lord, hade a lefe son,
A pert man þat was prinse, & priam he hight;
A man witty & wise, wight, wildist in Armes.
Hit felle hym [by] fortune at his fader dethe,
He was faryn to fight in a fer londe,
To riche hym of Rebelles þat of þe rewme held;
To cache a castell þat was kene holdyn,
And to wyn it with werre, went þere a while
With his houshold hole, & here þat he walt.
He hade a woman to wyue worthy & noble,
Onest & abill & Ecuba she hight:
By þat same hade he sonnes, semly men all,
ffyue þat were faire & fuerse men of armes,
And þree doghter by-dene þat were dere holden.
Of his sonnes to say or I sew ferre,
Ector was oldist & heire to hym seluyn;
And most is in mynd for his mykyll strenght.
The secund of his sonnes sothely was parys,
Or Alisaunder ewther was his other name;
He was fairest of þe freikes & a fyne archer,
A bowman of þe best & a buerne wise.
The þrid was a þro knight, þrivand in Armys,
Deffebus þe doughty on a derfe stede.
The fourth was a philosoffer, a fyne man of lore,
In þe Syense full sad of þe seuyn Artes.
The fyfte of the fre, þat I first nemyt,
Was Troylus the true, tristy in wer,
That mykell worship wan, witnes ye of story.
Of his Deghter by dene, þat were dere holdyn,
One Creusa was cald kyndly by nome,
Þat Eneas afterward Elit to wed,
Þat spokyn is of specially in our spede after,
And Virgill of his werkes writis also,
After takyng of þe toune how hym tid þen.
The secund of þe suster for to say ferre,
Cassandra was cald, clennest of wytte,
Þat Enformet was faire of þe fre artis,
And hade knowyng by course of þe clere sternys.
The last of þos lefe children was a lysse faire,
Polexena the pert, prise of all other;
Of hir ffeturs & fairhed is ferly to telle,
Alse noble for þe nonyst as nature cold deuyse
Bothe of colour & clennes, to declare all.
This prise kyng Priam hade of pert childer,
Thretty sonnes besydes, als other wemen,
Þat he gate on his gamen, goode men of Armys,
And felle men in fight, as we shall fynd after.
Now I turne to my tale & tary here a while.