University of Virginia Library

Kyngys and knyghtes and other kyde Dukes,
All the souerayns hade selly, as I said ere,
Of priam, the price Kyng, þat prudly hade saide.
Than gedrit were the grekes on a ground faire,
Besyde tenydon truly, to talke of hor dedis.
Ordant by the emperour opunly to holde
A counsell in the case, with knowyng to all,
And procede on hor purpos, as prise men of wer.
When the souerayns assemblit were, as I said first,
Agamynon, the gouernour, graithit hym to speike,
To þo worthy thieȝ wordis warpit anone:—
“Noble sirs, in this note hit nedis vs to haue
ffode till our folke, the formast of other,
Þat no hongur vs happyn to harme in our werre,
While our buernes in batell abiden here stille:
Þat we faint not in fight, ne feble of strenght.
And mykyll is the mete so mony bus haue,
If we shall proffet with proues, or any fose wyn:
ffor þere as failes the fode, faint is the pepull;
And þere hongur is hote, hertis ben febill.
Þerfore, highly in hast, I hold for þe best,
If ye deme it in dede, Dukes and other,
Þat we mightily to Messam our men send,
To fecche vs som fode, or we firre passe.
In þat prouyns is plenty all of prise vitell,
Of corne, & of catell, & mony kyd Rewme;
Þerfore, sone let vs send sum of our folke,
Worthy to wale, & wise of hor dedis,
To trie of the trewist, & turne into ship,
And set furth to the se with soudiours ynow,
Pas to þat prouyns, prese to þe londe,
And make puruiaunce plentie, while prese lastis,
That may cum vs, by course, to comford our ost,
And abundantly broght with buernes betwene,
ffor to stall our astate and our strenght hold.”
When þis counsell was kyd, he carpis no ferr,
Was alowet with the lordis, & all þe ledis after.
By assent of þo souerains, & sithen of all,
Achilles was chosyn chefe of þis erend;
And Thelephus, þat tother, ton to his fere,
Was Ercules aune son eldist for sothe.
Þes assignet for þe se, with soudiours ynogh,
And fuerse men in fight a felle nowmber:
Þes drest for þe dede and droghen to ship,
And merkit vnto Messam with a mekyll nauy.
In þat yle was onest, an honerable kyng,
As men told in his tyme, and Teutras his name,
Þat his countre in kuit hade keppit full longe,
And regnit in rest with riches ynogh.
He hade fightyng folke fele of his owne,
And knightes full kene, & konyng of werre.
Sum sain it for sothe, and for sure holdyn,
The same yle I said you, Cicill is calt,
Ay abundand of blisse, & bret full of vitaill,
And menyt was with men Messan to nome;
ffor a cité in the same lond so gat was cald,
Bild on a banke at a brode hauyn,
ffull longe, & large, louely with all,
And a pesable port pight full of shippes,
Þat comen for corne to contres aboute;
And because of the corne, cald was it Messan,
Þat past fro the port to prouyns o fer.
And sum of hit sain, & for sure holdyn,
Þat the Cité was so calld by a sure kyng,
That biggit the burgh bigly hym-seluyn,
And callid it Messan be mowthe, in mynd of his nome;
But Dares, in his dyting, dewly noght tellus
Of the Cité, for sothe, ne the selfe lond;
But how þo mighty were made to Messan to wende,
ffode for to fecche to þe felle ost.
Som othir Cicill hit sothly myght be,
Þat was geynde to grece, þen the grete yle,
Þat ferly was fer be-ȝond fele Rewmes.
Into this prouynce past þo pepull to-gedur,
Achilles the choise, and his chere felow,
With thre thowsand tristé all of þro knightes,
And mony shippes full shene, shot o þe depe,
Þat hit into hauyn, houyt not longe,
But bounet to þe bonke þo buernys anon.
Then the kyng of þe cuntre, with cumpany grete
Of fell fightyng folke, þat on fote were,
Past to þe port, þere the prinse lay.
The grekys, þat were gedrit & to grounde comyn,
With all þere cumpany clene of the cloise shippes,
Segh the kyng of the cuntre cum hom agayne,
With fele folke vppon fote, þat hom fray wold.
Þai wan to þere weppon wightly anon.
In defense of þe folke, þai fuersly were armyt,
And girden to-gedur with mony grym dyntus.
Bigge was the batell opon bothe haluys,
Mony fallyn were fey of þe fell grekes,
But mo of the meny, þat mellit hom with.
Þof the grekes were grym & of grete myght,
Þai hade no strenght to withstonde þe striff of þe pepull,
Þat were þro men in threpe, & thretyms mo.
Þere the grekes hade grymly ben gird vnto dethe,
Hade not Achilles ben cheualrous & choise of his dedis.
He shot thurgh the sheltrone & shent of hor knightes.
Mony doughty were ded thurgh dynt of his hond.
All þat warnyt hym þe way he warpet to ground,
Till he come to þe kyng, be course as hym list,
And flang at hym fuersly with a fyne swerde;
The haspes of his helme heturly brast;
Braid of his basnet to þe bare hede;
Woundid hym wickedly, warpit hym to ground.
He was wode of his wit, wild as a lione,
Wold haue brittonet the bold with a bare swerd.
Hof vp his hond heturly to strike,
With a fouchon felle to ferke of his hede,
And Thelephus, þe tothir, titly persayuit
That Teutra with torfer shuld tynt haue his liff.
He stert vnder the stroke with a store shild,
And keppit by course the caupe of his sword;
And Achilles the choise kyng cherly he prayit,
To let the lorde haue his lyffe for lewté of hym,
That woundit was wickedly to þe wale dethe;—
Þat he graunt wold godly þat gome for to leue.
Þen to Thelaphus, þe tore kyng, tomly can say;—
“What causes ye, by course, so kenly to pray,
This syre for to saue, þat is our sad enmy;
And has wackont vs wer þurghe will of hym seluyn,
And harmyt vs hogely with his hond one.
Syn he boldly with bate þis baret began,
Gode faithe will he first fall in his turne.”
Þen Thelaphus tomly talkyt agayne:—
“He was a frynde to my fader, & a fyn louer,
Worshippit hym on allwise & his will did.
Hit felle me, be fortune, forwith þis tyme,
Into this coste for to come, vnknowen my selfe;
And he worship me worthely, & his weghes all.
With giftes full gay & of his gode mekyll,
Assignet me soueraines, sure men ynogh.
Hit sothely with sorow sounys to my hert,
To se þat doughty be dede & don out of lyue.”
Þen Achilles to þat chere choisly can say:—
“Take hym here tyt, & tent as ye list,
And wirke with þat worthy, as ye wele likes.”
Thus halpe he þat hynd fro hond of Achilles,
And dro hym fro dethe, as for þat due tyme:
So the batell was barly broght to an end.
The grekes hade þe gre & gone into ship,
And Teutra the true kyng was trust on a litter,
Had hom to his halle, halfe out of lyue.
At whose prayer, full prestly, þo prise men two
Wentte with þat worthy vnto his won riche,
Receyuit with reuerence & renke of astate,
Honouret with all men onestly & well,
And all daintethes hom dight dere for þe nonyst.
When few dayes faren were þe fre kyng Teutra
Wex weike of his wound & widrit to dethe:
ffeblit full fast of his fyn strenght,
Se his dethe on hym drogh dressit hym þerfore.
He sent after, sothely, þe souerain Achilles,
And Thelaphe, þat tothir, vnto his owne chaumbur.
When þai comen to þe kyng, þo curtes to-gedur,
Þen fond þai þat fre febill in his bed
All in point for to pas with paynes of dethe.
Then Teutra þo triet men tretid o þis wise:—
“Ye worshipfull weghes, well be you euer,
And gode hele mot ye haue with hop of your lyues!
I say you now sothely, as my sad fryndes,
My lif is not long lastand in erthe.
Done are my dayes, I draw to an end;
And non eire of myn own neuer yet I hade,
Þat I my londes might leue, lyuely to kepe,
That I getton haue & gate with moche gret trauell,
And holdyn of hard, & with my hond werit
Vnto now, þat with noy is myn end comyn.
The whiche lond I hade lost long tymes past,
Hade not helpe ben of hym, was hardiest of othir,
Most doughty of dedis, dreghist in armys,
And the strongest in stoure, þat euer on stede rode,—
Ercules, þat honerable, edist of my knightes.
He was þi fader so fuerse, þat me faithe eght,
Þat preset at my prayer to this pure rewme,
In hast me to helpe with his hede strenght,
When my fos were so fell, & fuerse me agayn,
Þat þai occupiet ouer all, euyn as hom list,
And I vncertayn, for-sothe, to sese it on lyue.
But he sothely, hym-selfe, of his sad strenght,
Thurgh hardynes of hond & helpe of hym one,
All my fos in fight felly distroyit;
Breke all þere batells, britned hom to dethe,
And so rid he this rewme of my ranke fos,
Euer sythen, for sothe, to þis same tyme,
And deliuert me þis lond, & left it in pes.
Thus the septur & the soile sithyn haue I ȝemyt,
Noght sothely þurgh my selfe, ne my sad dedis,
But þurghe ffrendship of þi fader, & his fre helpe.
Now son, I will say the, as my sad frynd,
Syn þi fader in fuerse with his fre will,
Rid me þis Rewme out of ronke Enmys,
And wan it full worthely with worship hymseluyn,
Hade he lyuyt in lede, he hade ben lorde here,
Duly after my day, be domys of right.
And syn our goddis wold not graunt grace to be so,
This soile & the septur þi seluyn shall haue,
ffor to reigne in this rewme by right of þi fader:
Thus our goddes the graunttes of hor grace now.
Here qwemly I beqwethe þe to be qwem kyng
Of all my londes full large, & my lefe godis,
ffor to gouerne & to get, as ye good þinke:
Þis I take the be testament, as my trew aire.
And bryng me to berenes on þi best wise,
As be comys for a kyng in his kyde rewme;
And honour me with obit as ogh myn astate.”
He wrote thus his wille, & wightly asselit,
And deght þen full dawlily, as destyny wold.
And Thelaphus a toumbe trietly gart make,
A riche & a riall, with mony ronke stonys.
On a worshipfull wise warpit hym þerin,
With all the princes of þe prouyns, & other prowde folke,
And sacrifices full solemne, soche as þai vsit.
He puruait a proude stone of a prise hoge,
His course for to couer clenly aboue.
Þus the wegh gert write vmbe the wale sides,
With letturs full large, ledis to be-holde:—
“Teutra, the true kyng, here in tombe lis,
Þat Achilles, with a chop, chaunsit to sle;
Þat to thelaphon betakis all his triet Rewme,
Bothe septur & soile, as souerain to haue.”
When þes dedis were done, & the dede leuyt,
All the lordes of the londe, & the lege pepull,
Thurgh the Citis dyd send, and þe soile ouer,
ffor to come to the coronyng of þe kyde lord,
With honour & homage, as aght hom of right;
And to call hym as kyng in cuntres aboute,
Þat before, þurghe his fader right, fell to be duke,—
So cald in his cuntre be course of his londes,—
Now coronyd is the kyng this cuntre to weld;
Hade homage of all men, & honour full grete,
And began for to gouerne, as gome in his owne.
Þan fild þai with fraght all þere fuerse shippes,
And stuffe of all maner store, þat hom strenght might;
With corne, & with clene flowre, & othir kid vitaill.
Achilles, with choise men, chefe into shipp,
And thelaphon, the tothir, wold haue turnyt after,
Agayne to the grekes with his grete folke,
In batell to byde, as a buerne noble;
And be course to his cuntre comyn agayne.
Þen the choise kyng Achilles chaunget his wille,
Spake to hym specially for sped of hom all,
In his lond for to long with his lege pepull,
And puruay for the pure oste plenty of vitaill.
Here at talaphon he toke leue, & turnyt to ship,
And halet to the hegh se in a hond while,
Wan þurgh the waghis, had wind at his ese;
Sailet on soundly, & the se past;
To þe gret Navy of þe Grekes graidly he comes.
At tenydon, full tomly, turnyt into hauyn,
Lept into a litle bote, launchit to bonke;
To Agamynon gay tent gos on his way,
In company clene of mony kyde lordes.
All the gret to hym gedrit with a good chere,
And welcomth þat worthy the weghes ychon,
As derrest bi-dene to þe dukes all.
And he tomly hom told þe tale to þe end,
All the maner in Messan, how þo men ferd.
ffirst, how þai faght fuersly to-gedur,
And how thelaphus tide to be treu kyng;
And of the cariage of corne comyn by ship,
Þat no wegh suld want while the werre laste,
Ne no fode for to faile, but the fulthe haue,
Sent fro the same lond by þe selfe thelaphon.
All worshippit the wegh for his wale dedis,
And he turnyt to his tent tomly & faire,
To the Mirmydouns his men, þat mekill ioy hade,
And fayuer of þat fre, þen any folke ellis.

Now here will I houe a litle hond qwhile,
Or any maters mo into mynd fall,
Of the Troiens to telle, & þere triet helpe,
After Dares indityng, as I did first,
Of the Grekes, þat gedrit to the grete nauy.
Sone will I say, & in the same kynd,
What kynges þere come of countres aboute;
What Dukes by-dene, & other derfe Erles,
Þat soght to þe Citie with hor sad helpis,
ffor to comford the kyng with hor cant pepull.
Here nem will I now the nomes by-dene,
And the soume of the soudiours, er I sue ferre.

OF THE KYNGES ÞAT COME TO TROY FOR SOCUR OF PRIAM.

Of the worthy to wale, as the writ shewes,
The kynges þere come out of kyde londys,
Þat holdyn were of hom, as þere hede lordes,
With thre thowsaund þro men, þriuound in armys.
Pendragon the pert, pristly was on,
And Thabor, þat tother, a tor man of strenght;
Adasthon the doghte, þat derfe was the þrid.
And of a cuntre, was cald Colophon to nome,
Þat faire was & full all of fre townes,
ffoure kynges þere come with a cant pepull,
With ffyve thowsaund full, all of fyn knightes.
To acounte of þe kynges,—Caras was on,
And Nestor, another, to neuyn of þo same;
The thrid Ymasus, yrfull, egor of wille,
And Amphymacus, þe fourt, a felle mon in werre.
Out of Licé come lyuelé þe lege kyng Glaucon,
With his son Serpidon, a sad mon of strenght,
Þat to Priam was pure sib, a prise mon of dedes,
And þre thousaund thro knightes þrifty in armys.
Out of Lachan, a lond, come a light kyng,
Euphymus the fuerse, fell of his hondes,
And Capidus þe kene,—kynges were bothe
With a thousaund þro men þrifte in armys,
And fyue hundrith ferre all of fyn knightes.
There come of a cuntre, cald was Tebaria,
On Baunus, a bold kyng, and broght with hymseluyn
Þre thousaund þro knightes, þriuound in werre:
And seven Erles, sothely, in his sort were,
And foure Dukes dughty, & of dede nobill,
Þat to Priam the prise kyng all were pure syb.
All hor colouris to ken were of clene yalow,
Withouten more in the mene, or mellit with other,
To be knowen by course thurghe the clene ost,
As bold men in batell, and of breme will.
Out of Trasy þere come þe tru kyng, with a triet pepull,
Philon the fuerse, with fele men of armys,
Þat is out in the Orient, honerable faire;
And a Duke þat was derfe & of dede felle,
With a thousand þro men, & þrifty of hond,
And a hundrith hole all of his knightes.
Out of Payuon com prist Pricomysses the kyng,
And a Duke, þat was derfe, & his dere cosyn,
Þat stithe was & store, & Stupex he heght,
With þre thowsaund þristé, þrepond in werre.
ffor his kyngdom was clene clustrit with hilles,
All merkyd with mounteyns, & with mayn hylles,
And no playne in no place, ne plentie of vales,
Þere auntrid hom oft aunsware to haue
Of mowmenttes in þe merke, þurghe might of þe fynd,
Þat with gomes of þe ground, goddes were cald,
And mony meruell to mete, & mysshapon bestes.
Out of Beyten broght bold men two,
Þat were kynges in the coste, and also kyd brether,—
On Boetes, þat was bigge, & his brother Ephistrus.
And in hor company come knightes a thowsaund.
That is out in the orient the vtmast syde:
ffull is þat fre lond all of fyne spices.
Out of Pafflegon,—þat pight is in the playn est,
And is set on a syde þere þe sun ryses,
And so ferre out of folke, þat no freke sese,—
Come the richest renke, þat reigned in Erthe,
On philmene, a freke full of fyn gold,
Bothe of gemmes & Juellis, Joly for þe nonest,
Þat fonden are in Evfraton & þe flode Tyger,
Þat passyn out of peradis þurghe the playn Rewme.
He broght to þe burghe, all of bold knightes,
Two thowsand þristie & þro men of wille.
Iche shalke hade a shild shapyn of tre,
Wele leddrit o lofte, lemond of gold,
Pight full of prise stonys vmbe the pure sydes.
This Philmen, þis fre, was a fuerse man of shape,
Of largenes & lenght no lesse þen a giaund.
Of More Ynde come Merion, a mighty kyng alse,
With Perses, a proude kyng, and a pert knight,
With Dukes full doughty, and derfe Erles mo,
Þat subiect were sothely to þe same Perses,
With þre thowsaund þro knightes, þrepond in wer;
And Symagon, sothely, com with the same kyng,
Þat was mighty & monfull Merions brother.
Out of Tire come Theseus, tristé of hond,
And Archillacus also, þat was his aune son,
With knightes in hor company, clene men a thowsaund:—
He was cosyn, by course, to the kyng Priam.
Two kynges þere come of a clene yle,
Þat Agestra, þe ground geuyn is to nome.
(Of þo kynges, þat I earpe, know I no nomes;
ffor in þis boke, of þo bold, breuyt are nome)
Þai broght to þe burghe, buernes a thowsaund,
And two hundrith by tale, all of triet knightes.
There come of a kyngdome, callid is Delissur,
Of an yle be-ȝonde Amysones, an abill mon of wit,—
A discrete man of dedis, dryuen into age,
And a sad mon of sciens in the seuyn artis,—
Epistaphus, to preue, was his pure nome:
He broght to þe bate of bold men a thowsaund,
And an archer an ugly, þat neuer mon hade sene.
He was made as a mon fro þe myddell vp,
And fro the nauyll by-neithe, vne an abill horse,
And couert as a capull, all the corse ouer,
ffro þe hed to þe hele, herit full thicke.
His Ene flammet as the fire, or a fuerse low,
fferfull of fase, & hade a felle loke,
Þat þe Grekes oft greuit & to grem broght.
Mony woundit þat wegh & warpit to dethe,
ffor he was boumon of the best, & bold of his dedis.
The nowmbur of þes noble men, þat I nemmyt haue,
Þat come with thes kynges and other kyde Dukes,
Withoute Priams pouer of his prise rewme,
Were thretty thowsaund þro knightes þriuond in armys
And two, for to tell, þat to þe toune soght,
ffor to comford þat kyng & his cause forþer.
Syn þe world was wroght, & weghis þerin,
Was neuer red in no Romans, ne in ronke bokes,
So fele fightyng folke in hor fuerse yowthe,
Of knightes & clene men comyn to-gedur,
Of tried men & trusty, þat to Troy come.
And of the grekes, þat were gedrit in a grym ost,
Of knighthede to count þere was the clene floure,
ffor to wale þurghe the world, as þe writ tellis.
Wo so staris on þis story, or stodis þerin,
Take hede on þe harmys & the hard lures!
What mighty were marrit, & martrid to dethe;—
Of kynges, & knightes, & oþer kyde Dukes,
That þaire lyues here lost for a light cause!
Hit is heghly to haue, & of hert dryue
Soche sklaundur & skorne, þat skathis to mony;
And mene vnto mekenes for þe more harme!