University of Virginia Library

Beues hom be-gan to ride,
His wondes bledde be ech side;
Þe stede he graiþed vp anon,
In to his chaumber he gan gon
And leide him deueling on þe grounde,
To kolen is hertte in þat stounde.
Tiding com to king Ermyn,
Þat Beues hadde mad is men tyn;
Þe king swor and seide is sawe:
For þi a scholde ben to-drawe.

Vp stod þat maide Iosian,
And to hire fader ȝhe seide þan:
‘Sire, ich wot wel in me þouȝt,
Þat þine men ne slouȝ he nouȝt,
Be Mahoun ne be Tervagaunt,
Boute hit were him self defendaunt!
Ac, fader,’ ȝhe seide, ‘be me red,
Er þow do Beues to ded,
Ich praie, sire, for loue o me,
Do bringe þat child be fore þe!
Whan þe child, þat is so bold,
His owene tale haþ itolde,
And þow wite þe soþ, apliȝt,
Who haþ þe wrong, who haþ riȝt,
Ȝef him his dom, þat he schel haue,
Whaþer þow wilt him slen or saue!’
King Ermyn seide: ‘Me douȝter fre,
Ase þow hauest seid, so it schel be!’
Iosiane þo anon riȝtes
Clepede to hire twei kniȝtes:
‘To Beues now wende ȝe
And prai him, þat he come to me:
Er me fader arise fro his des;
Ful wel ich schel maken is pes!’
Forþ þe kniȝtes gonne gon,
To Beues chaumber þai come anon
And praide, ase he was gentil man,
Come speke wiþ Iosian.
Beues stoutliche in þat stounde
Haf vp is heued fro þe grounde;
Wiþ stepe eiȝen & rowe bren
So loþeliche he gan on hem sen,
Þe twei kniȝtes, þar þai stode,
Þai were aferde, hii wer niȝ wode.
A seide: ‘Ȝif ȝe ner masegers,
Ich wolde ȝow sle, losengers!
I nele rise o fot fro þe grounde,
For speke wiþ an heþene hounde:
Ȝhe is an honde, also be ȝe,
Out of me chaumber swiþe ȝe fle!’
Þe kniȝtes wenten out in rape,
Þai were fain so to ascape.
To Iosian þai wente as tit
And seide: ‘Of him is gret despit:
Sertes, a clepede þe heþene hound
Þries in a lite stounde:
We nolde for al Ermonie
Eft sones se him wiþ our eie!’
‘Hardeliche,’ ȝhe seide, ‘comeþ wiþ me,
And ich wile ȝour waraunt be!’
Forþ þai wente al isame,
To Beues chaumber þat he came.
‘Lemman,’ ȝhe seide, ‘gent and fre,
For godes loue, spek wiþ me!’
Ȝhe keste him boþe moþ & chin
And ȝaf him confort gode afin,
So him solaste þat mai,
Þat al is care wente awai,
And seide: ‘Lemman, þin ore!
Icham i-wonded swiþe sore!’
‘Lemman,’ ȝhe seide, ‘wiþ gode entent
Ichaue brouȝt an oyniment,
For make þe boþe hol & fere:
Wende we to me fader dere!’
Forþ þai wenten an hiȝing
Til Ermyn, þe riche king,
And Beues tolde vnto him þan,
How þat stour ended & gan,
And schewed on him in þat stounde
Fourti grete, grisli wounde.

Þanne seide king Ermin þe hore:
‘I nolde, Beues, þat þow ded wore
For al þe londes, þat ichaue;
Ich praie, douȝter, þat þow him saue
And proue to hele, ase þow can,
Þe wondes of þat douȝti man!’
In to chaumber ȝhe gan him take
And riche baþes ȝhe let him make,
Þat wiþ inne a lite stonde
He was boþe hol and sonde.
Þanne was he ase fresch to fiȝt,
So was þe faukoun to þe fliȝt.
His oþer prowesse who wile lere,
Hende, herkneþ, and ȝe mai here!