The buik of Alexander Or the buik of the most noble and valiant conquerour Alexander the Grit: By John Barbour ... Edited in four volumes, from the unique printed copy in the possession of the Earl of Dalhousie, with introductions, notes and glossary, together with the French originals (Li Fuerres de Gadres and Les Voeux du Paon) collated with numerous mss.: By R. L. Graeme Ritchie |
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 | The buik of Alexander |  |
Qvhen Cassamus him saw, I wis,
Ioyfull he was and full of blis.
Cryand “Tortoun!” his spere he straucht.
In middis the teith sic rowtis thay raucht
Quhill the speris [war] all to-frushit
And thay to erd bakuartis dushit;
Bot Cassamus, that was worthy,
Stert on fute delyuerly,
And lap vpone his hors perfay;
Bot Clarus ȝit in swowning lay.
With that, come Marciane to the stour,
To help his eme and to succour,
With ten thowsand, wicht and hardy,
And the King of Pincarny,
Wald nocht faill him for na thing,
He had thair sa great gadering
That weirit palice and tyre
And silkin towellis that war schire,
Bot thay schot weill, and weill couth sle;
Fechtand, thame worthis leif or dee.
On athir half come Arrestes,
That couth him weill preif in the preis,
With the knychtis of Effezoun,
That gude war and of gude renoun.
About Clarus was the battale
Baith fers and fell, foroutin faill,
For all dang on and hewit, I hecht,
Ilkane faucht fast with all thare mycht.
Thare was to-hewin mony blasoun,
And thirllit mony habirgeoun,
Mony breist and mony entrale
Wndir feit defoulit in the battale.
Marciane him defendit fast,
And auld Clarus at the last
Stert vp on fite, that hard the dintis
Of wapnis that on helmis styntis.
Embressit his sheild, his suerd he drew,
And about him sik strakis threw
That suddanly thay skalit all.
Quham euir he hit, he gart him fall,
Thare nedit na leche on thame to luke!
He all to-hewit that he our-tuke.
He contenit him sa hardely
That, maugre thairis halely,
He had bene horssit in that place,
Quhan Betys come and Perdicas;
Thay dedainȝeit to haue na hors, I hecht,
On fute thay horssit thame to fecht,
The folk of Ynd thay counterit sa
That thay thame fle, quhair euer thay ga.
The king of Pincarny, I wis,
Thay haue discumfit, and all his,
Syne come agane quhair Clarus faucht
And about him sic rimmillis raucht,
Thare was the mischeif sa cruell,
And the battale sa fers and fell,
That in that place weill tua thousand
War lyand, or than suownand.
All was enforssit quhen Perdicas
Come, and Betys, that worthy was.
Thay ȝeid togiddir sa sarraly,
With thare fallowis that war worthy,
And sa arrayit that, be thare fare,
It semit togidder thay brether ware,
That in armes had done sa weill
That xxx thousand, armit in steill,
Had left the feild and gane thare gait.
And auld Clarus was handlit hait,
Bot with ane gissarne that he bare
Sik routis raucht about him thare.
Perdicas lansit to him, I hecht;
Thare had Clarus to deid bene dicht,
Quhill Cassamus can cry, “vassale,
Leif him and all his harnes hale!
For I avowit this hinder day
To helpe him, as thow hard me say,
Gif that I sawe perrell or greif!
And now I se the great mischeif!”
Said Perdicas, “I grant thairtill,
And sall helpe him sa that ȝe will!”
Ioyfull he was and full of blis.
Cryand “Tortoun!” his spere he straucht.
In middis the teith sic rowtis thay raucht
Quhill the speris [war] all to-frushit
And thay to erd bakuartis dushit;
Bot Cassamus, that was worthy,
Stert on fute delyuerly,
And lap vpone his hors perfay;
Bot Clarus ȝit in swowning lay.
With that, come Marciane to the stour,
To help his eme and to succour,
With ten thowsand, wicht and hardy,
And the King of Pincarny,
Wald nocht faill him for na thing,
He had thair sa great gadering
That weirit palice and tyre
And silkin towellis that war schire,
Bot thay schot weill, and weill couth sle;
Fechtand, thame worthis leif or dee.
On athir half come Arrestes,
That couth him weill preif in the preis,
With the knychtis of Effezoun,
That gude war and of gude renoun.
About Clarus was the battale
Baith fers and fell, foroutin faill,
For all dang on and hewit, I hecht,
Ilkane faucht fast with all thare mycht.
Thare was to-hewin mony blasoun,
And thirllit mony habirgeoun,
Mony breist and mony entrale
366
Marciane him defendit fast,
And auld Clarus at the last
Stert vp on fite, that hard the dintis
Of wapnis that on helmis styntis.
Embressit his sheild, his suerd he drew,
And about him sik strakis threw
That suddanly thay skalit all.
Quham euir he hit, he gart him fall,
Thare nedit na leche on thame to luke!
He all to-hewit that he our-tuke.
He contenit him sa hardely
That, maugre thairis halely,
He had bene horssit in that place,
Quhan Betys come and Perdicas;
Thay dedainȝeit to haue na hors, I hecht,
On fute thay horssit thame to fecht,
The folk of Ynd thay counterit sa
That thay thame fle, quhair euer thay ga.
The king of Pincarny, I wis,
Thay haue discumfit, and all his,
Syne come agane quhair Clarus faucht
And about him sic rimmillis raucht,
Thare was the mischeif sa cruell,
And the battale sa fers and fell,
That in that place weill tua thousand
War lyand, or than suownand.
All was enforssit quhen Perdicas
Come, and Betys, that worthy was.
Thay ȝeid togiddir sa sarraly,
With thare fallowis that war worthy,
And sa arrayit that, be thare fare,
367
That in armes had done sa weill
That xxx thousand, armit in steill,
Had left the feild and gane thare gait.
And auld Clarus was handlit hait,
Bot with ane gissarne that he bare
Sik routis raucht about him thare.
Perdicas lansit to him, I hecht;
Thare had Clarus to deid bene dicht,
Quhill Cassamus can cry, “vassale,
Leif him and all his harnes hale!
For I avowit this hinder day
To helpe him, as thow hard me say,
Gif that I sawe perrell or greif!
And now I se the great mischeif!”
Said Perdicas, “I grant thairtill,
And sall helpe him sa that ȝe will!”
| The buik of Alexander | |