 | Otuel and Roland |  |
Now lete we be of þys,
And speke we of charlys,
þat muche was of myȝt.
Off hys lengthe and hys brede,
As Clerk ye doth in boke rede,
y schal ȝow telle a-ryȝt.
Twenty fot he was of lengthe,
And þer-to man of gret strength,
And a man of sterne syȝt.
Blake of here, red of face,
þere he come in many place,
he was a douȝty knyȝt.
And speke we of charlys,
þat muche was of myȝt.
Off hys lengthe and hys brede,
As Clerk ye doth in boke rede,
y schal ȝow telle a-ryȝt.
Twenty fot he was of lengthe,
And þer-to man of gret strength,
And a man of sterne syȝt.
Blake of here, red of face,
þere he come in many place,
he was a douȝty knyȝt.
ffoure tymes in the ȝer,
vppon hys heued he wolde ber
The holy croune of þorne:
At ester, and at Whyt-sontyde,
At seynt Iames day with pride,
And at þe tyme þat god was Borne,
At the mete in þe halle,
among hys knyȝtes alle,
with drawe swerd hym by-forne.
That ys in þe maner ay,
and schal be tyl domes-day,
Off Emperour þat ys corne.
vppon hys heued he wolde ber
The holy croune of þorne:
At ester, and at Whyt-sontyde,
At seynt Iames day with pride,
And at þe tyme þat god was Borne,
At the mete in þe halle,
among hys knyȝtes alle,
with drawe swerd hym by-forne.
That ys in þe maner ay,
and schal be tyl domes-day,
Off Emperour þat ys corne.
Where-so he slepe a-nyȝt,
wyse he was as felle to hys ryȝt,
And Euer douted tresoun.
An hundred knyȝtes schulde hym kepe,
were þat euer he schuld slepe,—
knyȝtes Off grete renoun.
And Euerych douȝthy knyȝt
hold a torche brennyng bryȝt,
And a nakyd fachoun.
Thus þe kyng charlys lay,
with hys ost many a day
In the cite of pampuloun.
wyse he was as felle to hys ryȝt,
And Euer douted tresoun.
An hundred knyȝtes schulde hym kepe,
were þat euer he schuld slepe,—
knyȝtes Off grete renoun.
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hold a torche brennyng bryȝt,
And a nakyd fachoun.
Thus þe kyng charlys lay,
with hys ost many a day
In the cite of pampuloun.
Twey sarsins tho of spayne
were y-sent to charlemayne,
with hym for to be.
The sawdan of babylonye,
he sent hem to paumpylayne,
ffram perce, the ryche cite.
Mansour, hyȝt that other,
And beligans, hys brother,
That was of gret puste.
Thay dwelled there long whyle,
kyng charlys to by-gyle,
whenne thay myȝt here tyme se.
were y-sent to charlemayne,
with hym for to be.
The sawdan of babylonye,
he sent hem to paumpylayne,
ffram perce, the ryche cite.
Mansour, hyȝt that other,
And beligans, hys brother,
That was of gret puste.
Thay dwelled there long whyle,
kyng charlys to by-gyle,
whenne thay myȝt here tyme se.
Charlys by-thouȝt hym tho,
That thay ne scholde nouȝt dwelle so,
But thay cristen were.
He sent to hem sone
A knyȝt in-to Aragone,
Gwynes, a dussyper.
But charlys wyst nouȝt
The tresoun of gwynes thouȝt,
The wykked fals messanger.
That thay ne scholde nouȝt dwelle so,
But thay cristen were.
He sent to hem sone
A knyȝt in-to Aragone,
Gwynes, a dussyper.
But charlys wyst nouȝt
The tresoun of gwynes thouȝt,
The wykked fals messanger.
ffor-soth he hath hys way y-nome,
To mansure that he ys come
And sayde that charlys hem grette.
he sayde that hys brother and he
Scholde for-sothe y-cristened be,
with-outen any lette.
Mansure was full fel,
And made a ryche Ieuel.
fforth he lete it fette,
And ȝaf the messanger;
And sette hym to the soper.
wel fayre for-sothe thay hym grette!
To mansure that he ys come
And sayde that charlys hem grette.
he sayde that hys brother and he
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with-outen any lette.
Mansure was full fel,
And made a ryche Ieuel.
fforth he lete it fette,
And ȝaf the messanger;
And sette hym to the soper.
wel fayre for-sothe thay hym grette!
Mansure tok tho Gwynes
And sayde to hym thus:
“I pray the, Gwynes, lysten to me!
ȝyf thou wylt charlys for-sake,
And to my consayle take,
ffull ryche schal tou be.
Thrytty somers and ȝut mo,
Bothe of syluer and gold also,
ffor-sothe y wylle ȝeue the.”
Thoruȝ that ylke tresour,
Gwynes by-come traytour.
Euyl mote he the!
And sayde to hym thus:
“I pray the, Gwynes, lysten to me!
ȝyf thou wylt charlys for-sake,
And to my consayle take,
ffull ryche schal tou be.
Thrytty somers and ȝut mo,
Bothe of syluer and gold also,
ffor-sothe y wylle ȝeue the.”
Thoruȝ that ylke tresour,
Gwynes by-come traytour.
Euyl mote he the!
Thenne dyuysed Gwynes,
That he wolde sey thus,
To the kyng charlemayn,
That mansour and belygauns
wolde come in-to ffraunce,—
There-to thay were boun.
And mansure there-whyle
Graþed hys ost with gyle
To sle hym with tresoun.
Charlys was wel a-payede,
And to Gwynes tho sayde,
“Thow art a good baroun!”
Tho was mansoure glad,
That the treson was y-mad,
And ȝaf that traytour,
Thrytty somers and mo
Off gold and syluer also,
with swythe gret honour.
And thrytte stedes with gold fyn
To charlys sent that sarsin,—
Alle they were whyt a[s]flour,—
And an houndred tonne of wyn,
That was bothe good and fyn,
And swythe fayre colour.
That he wolde sey thus,
To the kyng charlemayn,
That mansour and belygauns
wolde come in-to ffraunce,—
There-to thay were boun.
And mansure there-whyle
Graþed hys ost with gyle
To sle hym with tresoun.
Charlys was wel a-payede,
And to Gwynes tho sayde,
“Thow art a good baroun!”
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That the treson was y-mad,
And ȝaf that traytour,
Thrytty somers and mo
Off gold and syluer also,
with swythe gret honour.
And thrytte stedes with gold fyn
To charlys sent that sarsin,—
Alle they were whyt a[s]flour,—
And an houndred tonne of wyn,
That was bothe good and fyn,
And swythe fayre colour.
Gwynes hys leue tok,
And went hym hom, so sayth the bok,
wyth that presaunt so ryche,
And sayde, “syre charlys,” tho,
“Mansure wylle come the to
Ryȝt wel blythelyche:
for-sothe hys brother and ek he
wyllyn bothe y-cristened be
with here folk, lytell and muche.”
ffor-sothe Gwynes tho was
A fals traytour as was Iudas,
And many mo beȝt suche.
And went hym hom, so sayth the bok,
wyth that presaunt so ryche,
And sayde, “syre charlys,” tho,
“Mansure wylle come the to
Ryȝt wel blythelyche:
for-sothe hys brother and ek he
wyllyn bothe y-cristened be
with here folk, lytell and muche.”
ffor-sothe Gwynes tho was
A fals traytour as was Iudas,
And many mo beȝt suche.
Charlys grethed hym to wende
To fraunce with hys knyȝtes hende,
By the traytours rede.
There he fond fomen fale
In the forest off runcyvale,
That wolde hym do to dede.
The kyng bad roulond, hys cosyn,
Twenty thousand to take with hym,
Stouttelyche for to lede.
Whenne ch[arly]s hadde y-hote tho,
The best bodyes that were tho
with roulond, for-sothe, thay ȝede.
To fraunce with hys knyȝtes hende,
By the traytours rede.
There he fond fomen fale
In the forest off runcyvale,
That wolde hym do to dede.
The kyng bad roulond, hys cosyn,
Twenty thousand to take with hym,
Stouttelyche for to lede.
Whenne ch[arly]s hadde y-hote tho,
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with roulond, for-sothe, thay ȝede.
Twenty thousand, charlys ladde
And also fele roulond hadde,
In-to the rere batayle.
Charlys ne tok no dussyper,
But Gwynes and turpyn, y-fer,
That weren of heyȝe parayle.
Mansoure lete tho passe
Charlys folk, bothe more and lasse,
ffor-sothe, with-outen fayle:
Tho com roulond with hys ost,
And mansoure with muche bost
Hard hym gan assayle.
And also fele roulond hadde,
In-to the rere batayle.
Charlys ne tok no dussyper,
But Gwynes and turpyn, y-fer,
That weren of heyȝe parayle.
Mansoure lete tho passe
Charlys folk, bothe more and lasse,
ffor-sothe, with-outen fayle:
Tho com roulond with hys ost,
And mansoure with muche bost
Hard hym gan assayle.
Syxty thousand and ek mo,
Mansoure with hym brouȝt tho,
Out of the wode a-plyȝt.
The cristen thay gonne assayle,
Many deyde in that batayle,
Or it euer were nyȝt.
To-gyder thay gonne smyte,
Neyther ne spared other but lyte,
There was a wel gryslych syȝt.
Roulond was there y-slawe,
And good olyuer, hys felawe,
And wel many a trewe knyȝt.
Mansoure with hym brouȝt tho,
Out of the wode a-plyȝt.
The cristen thay gonne assayle,
Many deyde in that batayle,
Or it euer were nyȝt.
To-gyder thay gonne smyte,
Neyther ne spared other but lyte,
There was a wel gryslych syȝt.
Roulond was there y-slawe,
And good olyuer, hys felawe,
And wel many a trewe knyȝt.
Syre constantyn of gret rome
A-ȝeynes belyngas, for-sothe, come
with a gret spere keruyng;
And to hym he it bare,
he brast it on peses thare,
with-outen any lesyng.
with swerd and with mas,
ffor-sothe, in that plas,
To-gedyr thay hem thryng.
Ihesu crist, kyng of blys,
lord with-outen mys,
here soules to heuene bryng!
A-ȝeynes belyngas, for-sothe, come
with a gret spere keruyng;
And to hym he it bare,
he brast it on peses thare,
with-outen any lesyng.
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ffor-sothe, in that plas,
To-gedyr thay hem thryng.
Ihesu crist, kyng of blys,
lord with-outen mys,
here soules to heuene bryng!
whenne oger Denys seye thys,
That hys good felaw y-slawe ys,
In hert hym was full who.
he fauȝt as he were wood,
That alle a-ȝeyn hym stod,
To grounde he fylle hem tho.
Raynold of auby-despyne
Com prekyng on a stede fyne,
And fauȝt ful hard also.
wel sone the cristen were by-set,
As der that beȝth with-Inne the net,
with ten thousand and mo.
That hys good felaw y-slawe ys,
In hert hym was full who.
he fauȝt as he were wood,
That alle a-ȝeyn hym stod,
To grounde he fylle hem tho.
Raynold of auby-despyne
Com prekyng on a stede fyne,
And fauȝt ful hard also.
wel sone the cristen were by-set,
As der that beȝth with-Inne the net,
with ten thousand and mo.
Thay fauȝten wel by the lawe,
But sone thay were alle y-slawe,
with-Inne a lytel stounde.
Men seyeth in old sawe,
That ten men in a lytel thrawe
Mowe be brouȝt to grownd.
thouȝ Oger fauȝt fast,
ȝut sone at the laste,
he hadde dethys wounde,
and Raynold wyth also,
& wel many a gode knyȝt mo,
In boke as hyt ys fownde.
But sone thay were alle y-slawe,
with-Inne a lytel stounde.
Men seyeth in old sawe,
That ten men in a lytel thrawe
Mowe be brouȝt to grownd.
thouȝ Oger fauȝt fast,
ȝut sone at the laste,
he hadde dethys wounde,
and Raynold wyth also,
& wel many a gode knyȝt mo,
In boke as hyt ys fownde.
tho syr bertram, the baner,
bothe Rouland, and eke Olyuer,
and syr Gaumfres, the kyng,
Gonne tho to fyȝt ful fast,
And al to ground tey caste,
wel many a gret lordyng.
ffor-soth, Olyuer, and roulond tho,
Cleuen men and hors a-towo,
So þay fauȝt in þat þryng.
Syre bertram, þe baner,
Bothe roulond and Olyuer
Ne spared elde ne ȝong.
bothe Rouland, and eke Olyuer,
127
Gonne tho to fyȝt ful fast,
And al to ground tey caste,
wel many a gret lordyng.
ffor-soth, Olyuer, and roulond tho,
Cleuen men and hors a-towo,
So þay fauȝt in þat þryng.
Syre bertram, þe baner,
Bothe roulond and Olyuer
Ne spared elde ne ȝong.
fful sone after in a stounde,
Gaufres was brouȝt to grounde,
with the cursed sarisins.
þo good Olyuer was slawe þo,
and many a douȝty knyȝt also,
with þe deueles lemes.
A sarsyn, þat hyȝt laugelye,
he com with gret enuye,
As y ȝow say in rymes,
he com and smot Olyuer on þe croune,
That bothe hys eyȝen fyl a-down,
ffram hym in þat tymes.
Gaufres was brouȝt to grounde,
with the cursed sarisins.
þo good Olyuer was slawe þo,
and many a douȝty knyȝt also,
with þe deueles lemes.
A sarsyn, þat hyȝt laugelye,
he com with gret enuye,
As y ȝow say in rymes,
he com and smot Olyuer on þe croune,
That bothe hys eyȝen fyl a-down,
ffram hym in þat tymes.
Whenne þat Olyuer was blynd,
Bothe by-fore and Ek by-hynde,
he leyde faste a-boute;
and euer more as he rod,
he made a way Swyþe brod,
Off the sarisins þat were stoute.
And as he fauȝt wondurlyche fast,
Roulond com ate last,
To helpe hym saun doute.
So hard Olyuere smot roulond,
þat hys schyld from hym wond,
A-mong þe heþen route.
Bothe by-fore and Ek by-hynde,
he leyde faste a-boute;
and euer more as he rod,
he made a way Swyþe brod,
Off the sarisins þat were stoute.
And as he fauȝt wondurlyche fast,
Roulond com ate last,
To helpe hym saun doute.
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þat hys schyld from hym wond,
A-mong þe heþen route.
“allas,” sayde Roulond þo,
“Olyuer, why faryst þu so?
Artou paynym by-come?”
“Nay,” sayde Olyuer, “god it wot!
y ne wyst neuer when y smot,
My syȝt ys me by-nome.”
þo þay bothe layden on in fere,
Bothe roulond and Olyuer,
And slowyn þere many a yom.
with þat com laugelye,—
þe cours haue he of oure ladye,
þat most hath myrþes mone!
“Olyuer, why faryst þu so?
Artou paynym by-come?”
“Nay,” sayde Olyuer, “god it wot!
y ne wyst neuer when y smot,
My syȝt ys me by-nome.”
þo þay bothe layden on in fere,
Bothe roulond and Olyuer,
And slowyn þere many a yom.
with þat com laugelye,—
þe cours haue he of oure ladye,
þat most hath myrþes mone!
And with a spere swythe feloun
[OMITTED]
þat dede he fyl to grounde.
þo roulond sey þat fyȝt,
with sorow and care he smot a knyȝt,—
That same heþen hound,—
That hors an man boþe at onys,
he euene cleued hys body and bonys.
Ne myȝt no man hym hele þat wounde!
Boþe Gaufer and gaufres,
Ryȝt be-syde Oger denys,
þere lay y-slaw þat stounde.
þat dede he fyl to grounde.
þo roulond sey þat fyȝt,
with sorow and care he smot a knyȝt,—
That same heþen hound,—
That hors an man boþe at onys,
he euene cleued hys body and bonys.
Ne myȝt no man hym hele þat wounde!
Boþe Gaufer and gaufres,
Ryȝt be-syde Oger denys,
þere lay y-slaw þat stounde.
Anguler, and anastes þere,
And syr yuory, here gode ser,
alle quyk þay were y-nome,
and y-honged heyȝe on a tre,
þat grete dele it was to se,
Vppon many a cristen gom.
þere-fore mansoure was ful fawe,
þat þay were so alle y-slawe,
þe cristen, boþe alle and sum.
But roulond skaped a-way,
In a busk of an hegge for-soth to say
with hys thrydde gome.
And syr yuory, here gode ser,
alle quyk þay were y-nome,
and y-honged heyȝe on a tre,
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Vppon many a cristen gom.
þere-fore mansoure was ful fawe,
þat þay were so alle y-slawe,
þe cristen, boþe alle and sum.
But roulond skaped a-way,
In a busk of an hegge for-soth to say
with hys thrydde gome.
And as roulond, þe good knyȝt,
com framward þat strong fyȝt,
A sarsin þer he fand,
þat rested hym þere vp-ryȝt,
y say for-soþe a-plyȝt,
with foure wythys bond.
so vp-ryȝt by a tre,
he ȝede forth and let hym be
styll for to stonde,
And went vppon an heyȝe hylle,
And hys horn he blew wel sch[r]ylle,
That he held in hys honde.
com framward þat strong fyȝt,
A sarsin þer he fand,
þat rested hym þere vp-ryȝt,
y say for-soþe a-plyȝt,
with foure wythys bond.
so vp-ryȝt by a tre,
he ȝede forth and let hym be
styll for to stonde,
And went vppon an heyȝe hylle,
And hys horn he blew wel sch[r]ylle,
That he held in hys honde.
The cristen gonne it knowe,
That weren a-way y-flowe,
And comyn to hys cry.
wel an hundred on a drowe,
A-ȝeyneward gonne drawe,
To the sarsins sykerly.
Roulond hys swerd gan drawe,
To the sarsin, he sayde in a thrawe,
“A-none thow schalt deye,
But thow me telle, y-wys,
Where mansoure, thy lord, ys.
bey me hastlye! [OMITTED]
“Thenne wyl y saue the.
My treuth y the plyȝt!”
The sarsin was blythe,
To askape with hys lyue,
And sayde, “Go we a-none ryȝt!”
fforth thay went, alle prest,
Bothe to-gederes in that forest,
So faste as thay myȝt.
The sarsin sayde, “he ys thys
That bereth the schylde of prys
with a dragoun of gold bryȝt.”
That weren a-way y-flowe,
And comyn to hys cry.
wel an hundred on a drowe,
A-ȝeyneward gonne drawe,
To the sarsins sykerly.
Roulond hys swerd gan drawe,
To the sarsin, he sayde in a thrawe,
“A-none thow schalt deye,
But thow me telle, y-wys,
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bey me hastlye! [OMITTED]
“Thenne wyl y saue the.
My treuth y the plyȝt!”
The sarsin was blythe,
To askape with hys lyue,
And sayde, “Go we a-none ryȝt!”
fforth thay went, alle prest,
Bothe to-gederes in that forest,
So faste as thay myȝt.
The sarsin sayde, “he ys thys
That bereth the schylde of prys
with a dragoun of gold bryȝt.”
Roulond mette an hathen hounde,
Suche a strok he hym founde,
That ded he fyll in that plas.
hard he layde on bothe syde.
whome roulond mette in that tyde,
hym by-fyll a sory cas.
Mansure he mette saunfayle,
In that same batayle,
As it was goddys grace.
Roulond let tho the sarsin gone,
And to the batayle he went a-none,
There mansure in was.
Suche a strok he hym founde,
That ded he fyll in that plas.
hard he layde on bothe syde.
whome roulond mette in that tyde,
hym by-fyll a sory cas.
Mansure he mette saunfayle,
In that same batayle,
As it was goddys grace.
Roulond let tho the sarsin gone,
And to the batayle he went a-none,
There mansure in was.
Strong fyȝt was hem by-twene,
They al to-hewen the helmes schene,
And here schyldes dude also.
Thoruȝ the hauberk, the blod was sene,
ffor the strokys weren ful kene,
That deled were by-twene hem to.
Roulond smot a strok with yre,
On the helm of syre mansure,
And clef hys body tho.
welle a thousand sarsins,
Alle of godys wytherlyngges,
Thay flowyn a-way hym fro.
They al to-hewen the helmes schene,
And here schyldes dude also.
Thoruȝ the hauberk, the blod was sene,
ffor the strokys weren ful kene,
That deled were by-twene hem to.
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On the helm of syre mansure,
And clef hys body tho.
welle a thousand sarsins,
Alle of godys wytherlyngges,
Thay flowyn a-way hym fro.
whenne belyngans, hys brother,
Sey that hit was none other,
he fleye with hys ost
To saragous, that ryche cyte,
Bothe he and eke hys mayne,
with bobaunce and with bost.
Roulond had so many a wounde,—
wondyr that he ne fyl to grounde,—
And than was sorw most.
“God,” he cryed, “mercy blyue!”
lord, help hym in hys lyue,
Astou art the holy gost!
Sey that hit was none other,
he fleye with hys ost
To saragous, that ryche cyte,
Bothe he and eke hys mayne,
with bobaunce and with bost.
Roulond had so many a wounde,—
wondyr that he ne fyl to grounde,—
And than was sorw most.
“God,” he cryed, “mercy blyue!”
lord, help hym in hys lyue,
Astou art the holy gost!
Roulond com doun a-none,
Off febelnesse he hadde gret wone.
with that come syre baudewyne,
And terry also with-outen fayle,
That weren a-skaped from that batayle.
That on was hys owyn cosyn.
he seye hys armur al to-tore,
hys body with speres thoruȝ bore,
hys lyf in poynt to tyne.
Roulond throw out dorundale,
And sayde there a rewfull tale,
And wroth was in fyn.
Off febelnesse he hadde gret wone.
with that come syre baudewyne,
And terry also with-outen fayle,
That weren a-skaped from that batayle.
That on was hys owyn cosyn.
he seye hys armur al to-tore,
hys body with speres thoruȝ bore,
hys lyf in poynt to tyne.
Roulond throw out dorundale,
And sayde there a rewfull tale,
And wroth was in fyn.
Tho he by-gan to make hys mone,
And faste loked there-vppone,
As he it held in hys hond:
“O swerd of gret myȝt,
Better bar neuer no knyȝt,
To wynne with no lond!
Thow hast y-be in many batayle,
That neuer sarsin saumfayle
Ne myȝt thy strok with-stonde!
Go, let neuer no paynym
In-to batayle bere hym,
After the deth of roulond!
And faste loked there-vppone,
132
“O swerd of gret myȝt,
Better bar neuer no knyȝt,
To wynne with no lond!
Thow hast y-be in many batayle,
That neuer sarsin saumfayle
Ne myȝt thy strok with-stonde!
Go, let neuer no paynym
In-to batayle bere hym,
After the deth of roulond!
O Swerd of gret power,
In thys world nys nouȝt thy per,
Of no metal y-wrouȝt!
Alle spayne and Gales
Thoruȝ grace of god & the, y-wys,
To cristendom ben brouȝt.
Thow ert good withouten blame,
In the ys graued the holy name,
That alle thyng made of nouȝt.”
Roulond smot it on a stone,
And he it karf a-to a-none.
To breke it tho was hys thouȝt.
In thys world nys nouȝt thy per,
Of no metal y-wrouȝt!
Alle spayne and Gales
Thoruȝ grace of god & the, y-wys,
To cristendom ben brouȝt.
Thow ert good withouten blame,
In the ys graued the holy name,
That alle thyng made of nouȝt.”
Roulond smot it on a stone,
And he it karf a-to a-none.
To breke it tho was hys thouȝt.
Tho he hadde that ston y-schorne,
wel lowde he blew tho hys horne,
To haue y-had more socour.
Thre note he blew so,
That hys horn clef a-two,
That was of good yuour,
That the temple and hys vayne
Brost bothe with gret mayne,
Off roulond, the conquerour.
Syxty myle men herde the soun,
Tho the kyng charlys of renoun
Made gret dolour:
wel lowde he blew tho hys horne,
To haue y-had more socour.
Thre note he blew so,
That hys horn clef a-two,
That was of good yuour,
That the temple and hys vayne
Brost bothe with gret mayne,
Off roulond, the conquerour.
Syxty myle men herde the soun,
133
Made gret dolour:
“ȝyue y can Roulond knowe,
Ryȝt now for-sothe y herde hym blowe,
y drede lest he mysfare.
As armes a-none, gret and smale,
To that forest of rouncyvale,
To loke ȝyf he be thare!”
Gwynes, that wyst of thys dede,
To the kyng a-none he sayde,
“Syre, haue ȝe no care!
Roulond ys so iolyf a man,
That he hys blewyng by-gan,
ffor huntyng of an hare.”
Ryȝt now for-sothe y herde hym blowe,
y drede lest he mysfare.
As armes a-none, gret and smale,
To that forest of rouncyvale,
To loke ȝyf he be thare!”
Gwynes, that wyst of thys dede,
To the kyng a-none he sayde,
“Syre, haue ȝe no care!
Roulond ys so iolyf a man,
That he hys blewyng by-gan,
ffor huntyng of an hare.”
lo, thys falce traytour,
God ȝeue hym myssauntour
ffor hys falce lesyng!
God ȝeue hym myssauntour
ffor hys falce lesyng!
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