University of Virginia Library

Quho that Antique Stories reidis
Considder may the famous deidis
Of our Nobill Progenitouris,
Quhilk suld to vs be richt mirrouris,
Thair verteous deidis to ensew,
And vicious leuing to eschew.
Sic Men bene put in memorie,
That deith suld not confound thair glorie.
Howbeit thair bodie bene absent,
Thair verteous deidis bene present.
Poetis, thair honour to auance,
Hes put thame in rememberance.
Sum wryt of preclair Conquerouris;
And sum of vailȝeand Empriouris;
And sum of Nobill Michtie Kingis,
That Royallie did reull thair Ringis;
And sum of Campiounis and of Knichtis,
That bauldlie did defend thair richtis,
Quhilk vailȝeandlie did stand in stour,
For the defence of thair honour;
And sum of Squyeris douchtie deidis,
That wounders wrocht in weirlie weidis.
Sum wryt of deidis amorous;
As Chauceir wrait of Troilus,
How that he luiffit Cressida;
Of Iason and of Medea.
With help of Cleo I intend,
Sa Minerue wald me Sapience send,
Ane Nobill Squyer to discryfe,
Quhais douchtines, during his Lyfe,
I knaw my self: thairof I wryte,
And all his deidis I dar indyte.
And secreitis, that I did not knaw,
That Nobill Squyer did me schaw.
Sa I intend, the best I can,
Descryue the deidis and the Man;
Quhais ȝouth did occupie in lufe,
Full plesantlie, without reprufe;
Quhilk did as monie douchtie deidis
As monie ane that men of reidis,
Quhilkis Poetis puttis in Memorie,
For the exalting of thair glorie.
Quhairfoir, I think, sa God me saif,
He suld haue place amangis the laif,
That his hie honour suld not smure,
Considering quhat he did indure,
Oft times for his Ladeis sake.
I wait Sir Lancelote du lake,
Quhen he did lufe King Arthuris wyfe,
Faucht neuer better with sword nor knyfe,
For his Ladie in no battell,
Nor had not half so just querrell.
The veritie quha list declair,
His Lufe was ane Adulterair,
And durst not cum into hir sicht,
Bot lyke ane Houlet on the nicht.
With this Squyer it stude not so:
His Ladie luifit him and no mo.
Husband nor Lemman had scho none;
And so he had hir lufe alone.
I think it is no happie lyfe,
Ane Man to jaip his Maisteris wyfe,
As did Lancelote: this I conclude,
Of sic amour culd cum na gude.

Now to my purpois will I pas,
And shaw ȝow how the Squyer was:
Ane gentilman of Scotland borne.
So was his Father him beforne,
Of Nobilnes lineallie discendit,
Quhilks thair gude fame hes euer defendit.
Gude Williame Meldrum he was namit,
Quhilk in his honour was neuer defamit;
Stalwart and stout in euerie stryfe,
And borne within the Schyre of Fyfe,
To Cleische and Bynnis richt Heritour,
Quhilk stude for Lufe in monie stour.
He was bot twentie ȝeiris of age,
Quhen he began his Uassalage:
Proportionat weill, of mid stature,
Feirie, and wicht, and micht indure,
Ouirset with trauell, both nicht and day,
Richt hardie baith in ernist and play,
Blyith in countenance, richt fair of face,
And stude weill ay in his Ladies grace;
For he was wounder amiabill,
And, in all deidis, honorabill,
And ay his honour did auance,
In Ingland first and syne in France.
And thair his manheid did assaill,
Under the Kingis greit Admirall,
Quhen the greit Nauie of Scotland
Passit to the sey aganis Ingland.
And as thay passit be Ireland Coist,
The Admirall gart land his Oist,
And set Craigfergus into Fyre,
And saifit nouther Barne nor Byre.
It was greit pietie for to heir
Of the pepill the bailfull cheir,
And how the Land folk wer spuilȝeit.
Fair wemen vnderfute wer fuilȝeit.
Bot this ȝoung Squyer, bauld and wicht,
Sauit all wemen quhair he micht:
All Preistis and Freiris he did saue.
Till, at the last, he did persaue,
Behind ane Garding amiabill,
Ane womanis voce richt lamentabill,
And on that voce he followit fast,
Till he did see hir, at the last,
Spuilȝeit, naikit as scho was borne.
Twa men of weir wer hir beforne,
Quhilk wer richt cruell men and kene,
Partand the spuilȝie thame betwene.
Ane fairer woman nor scho wes
He had not sene in onie place.
Befoir him on hir kneis scho fell,
Sayand, for him that heryit Hell,
Help me, sweit Sir, I am ane Mayd.
Than softlie to the men he said,
I pray ȝow giue againe hir sark,
And tak to ȝow all vther wark.
Hir Kirtill was of Scarlot reid;
Of gold ane garland of hir heid,
Decorit with Enamelyne,
Belt, and Brochis of siluer fyne.
Of ȝallow Taftais wes hir sark,
Begaryit all with browderit wark,
Richt craftelie with gold and silk.
Than said the Ladie, quhyte as milk,
Except my sark, no thing I craue;
Let thame go hence, with all the laue.
Quod thay to hir, be Sanct Fillane,
Of this ȝe get nathing agane.
Than said the Squyer, courteslie,
Gude Freindis, I pray ȝow hartfullie,
Gif ȝe be worthie Men of Weir,
Restoir to hir agane hir Geir;
Or, be greit God that all hes wrocht,
That spuilȝie salbe full deir bocht.
Quod thay to him, we the defy,
And drew thair swordis haistely,
And straik at him with sa greit Ire,
That from his Harnes flew the fyre:
With duntis sa darflie on him dang,
That he was neuer in sic ane thrang.
Bot he him manfullie defendit,
And with ane bolt on thame he bendit,
And hat the ane vpon the heid,
That to the ground he fell doun deid:
For to the teith he did him cleif,
Lat him ly thair with ane mischeif.
Than, with the vther, hand for hand,
He beit him with his birneist brand.
The vther was baith stout and strang,
And on the Squyer darflie dang.
And than the Squyer wrocht greit wonder,
Ay till his sword did shaik in sunder.
Than drew he furth ane sharp dagair,
And did him cleik be the Collair,
And euin in at the collerbane,
At the first straik he hes him slane:
He founderit fordward to the ground.
Ȝit was the Squyer haill and sound;
For quhy, he was sa weill enarmit,
He did escaip fra thame vnharmit.
And, quhen he saw thay wer baith slane,
He to that Ladie past agane,
Quhair scho stude nakit on the bent,
And said, tak ȝour abulȝement.
And scho him thankit full humillie,
And put hir claithis on spedilie.
Than kissit he that Ladie fair,
And tuik his leif at hir but mair.
Be that the Taburne and Trumpet blew,
And euerie man to shipburd drew.
That Ladie was dolent in hart,
From tyme scho saw he wald depart,
That hir releuit from hir harmes,
And hint the Squyer in hir armes,
And said, will ȝe byde in this Land,
I sall ȝow tak to my Husband.
Thocht I be cassin, now, in cair,
I am (quod scho) my Fatheris Air,
The quhilk may spend, of pennies round,
Of ȝeirlie Rent ane thowsand Pound.
With that, hartlie scho did him kis.
Ar ȝe (quod scho) content of this?
Of that (quod he) I wald be fane,
Gif I micht in this Realme remane.
Bot I mon first pas into France;
Sa quhen I cum agane, perchance,
And efter that the Peice be maid,
To marie ȝow I will be glaid:
Fair weill, I may no langer tarie.
I pray God keip ȝow, & sweit sanct Marie.
Than gaif scho him ane Lufe taking,
Ane riche Rubie set in ane Ring.
I am (quod scho) at ȝour command,
With ȝow to pas into Scotland.
I thank ȝow hartfullie (quod he)
Ȝe ar ouir ȝoung to saill the See,
And speciallie with Men of weir.
Of that (quod scho) tak ȝe na feir,
I sall me cleith in mennis clais,
And ga with ȝow quhair euir ȝe pleis.
Suld I not lufe him Paramour,
That saifit my Lyfe and my honour?
Ladie, I say ȝow in certane
Ȝe sall haue lufe for lufe agane,
Trewlie, vnto my Lyfis end.
Fairweill, to God I ȝow commend.
With that, into his Boit he past,
And to the ship he rowit fast.
Thay weyit thair ankeris, and maid saill,
This Nauie, with the Admirall,
And landit in bauld Brytane.
This Admirall was Erle of Arrane,
Quhilk was baith wyse and vailȝeand,
Of the blude Royall of Scotland,
Accompanyit with monie ane Knicht,
Quhilk wer richt worthie men and wicht.
Amang the laif, this ȝoung Squyar
Was with him richt familiar;
And, throw his verteous diligence,
Of that Lord he gat sic credence,
That, quhen he did his courage ken,
Gaif him cure of fyue hundreth men,
Quhilkis wer to him obedient,
Reddie at his commandement.
It wer to lang for to declair
The douchtie deidis that he did thair.
Becaus he was sa courageous,
Ladies of him wes amorous.
He was ane Munȝeoun for ane Dame;
Meik in Chalmer, lyk ane lame:
Bot, in the Feild, ane Campioun,
Rampand lyke ane wyld Lyoun;
Weill practikit with Speir and Scheild,
And with the formest in the Feild.
No Chiftane was, amangis thame all,
In expensis mair liberall.
In euerilk play he wan the pryse:
With that, he was verteous and wyse.
And so, becaus he was weill pruif[i]t,
With euerie man he was weill luifit.

HARY the aucht, King of Ingland,
That tyme at Caleis wes lyand,
With his triumphant ordinance,
Makand weir on the Realme of France.
The King of France his greit armie
Lay neir hand by, in Picardie,
Quhair aither vther did assaill,
Howbeit thair was na set battaill.
Bot thair wes daylie skirmishing,
Quhair men of armis brak monie sting.
Quhen to the Squyer Meldrum
Wer tauld thir Nouellis, all and sum,
He thocht he wald vesie the weiris,
And waillit furth ane hundreth Speiris,
And Futemen quhilk wer bauld & stout,
The maist worthie of all his rout.

Quhen he come to the King of France,
He wes sone put in ordinance;
Richt so was all his companie,
That on him waitit continuallie.
Thair was, into the Inglis Oist,
Ane Campioun that blew greit boist.
He was ane stout Man and ane strang,
Quhilk Oist wald, with his conduct, gang
Outthrow the greit Armie of France,
His valiantnes for to auance.
And Maister Talbart was his name,
Of Scottis & Frenche quhilk spak disdane;
And on his Bonnet vsit to beir
Of Siluer fyne takinnis of weir:
And Proclamatiounis he gart mak,
That he wald, for his Ladies saik,
With any gentilman of France
To fecht with him with Speir or Lance.
Bot no Frenche man in all that Land,
With him durst battell, hand for hand.
Than, lyke ane Weiriour vailȝeand,
He enterit in the Scottis band.
And quhen the Squyer Meldrum
Hard tell this Campioun wes cum,
Richt haistelie he past him till,
Demanding him quhat was his will.
Forsuith, I can find none (quod he)
On hors nor fute dar fecht with me.
Than, said he, it wer greit schame,
Without battell ȝe suld pas hame.
Thairfoir to God I mak ane vow,
The morne my self sall fecht with ȝow,
Outher on Horsbak or on fute:
Ȝour crakkis I count thame not ane cute.
I sall be fund into the Feild,
Armit, on Hors, with speir and Scheild.
Maister Talbart said, my gude Chyld,
It wer maist lyk that thow wer wyld.
Thow ar to ȝoung, and hes no micht
To fecht with me that is so wicht:
To speik to me thow suld haue feir;
For I haue sic practik in weir,
That I wald not effeirit be
To mak debait aganis sic thre:
For I haue stand in monie stour,
And ay defendit my honour.
Thairfoir, my barne, I counsell the
Sic interprysis to let be.
Than said this Squyer to the Knicht,
I grant ȝe ar baith greit and wicht.
Ȝoung Dauid was far les than I,
Quhen he with Golias, manfullie,
Withouttin outher Speir or Scheild,
He faucht, and slew him in the Feild.
I traist that God salbe my Gyde,
And giue me grace to stanche thy pryde.
Thocht thow be greit like Gowmakmorne,
Traist weill I sall ȝow meit the morne:
Beside Montruill, vpon the grene,
Befoir ten houris I salbe sene.
And, gif ȝe wyn me in the Feild,
Baith hors & Geir I sall ȝow ȝeild,
Sa that siclyke ȝe do to me.
That I sall do, be God (quod he)
And thairto I giue the my hand.
And swa betwene thame maid an Band,
That thay suld meit vpon the morne.
Bot Talbart maid at him bot Scorne,
Lychtlyand him with wordis of pryde,
Syne hamewart to his Oist culd ryde,
And shew the Brethren of his Land,
How ane ȝoung Scot had tane on hand
To fecht with him beside Montruill:
Bot, I traist, he sall prufe the fuill.
Quod thay, the morne that sall we ken:
The Scottis ar haldin hardie men.
Quod he, I compt thame not ane cute;
He sall returne vpon his fute,
And leif with me his armour bricht;
For weill I wait he hes no micht,
On hors nor fute, to fecht with me.
Quod thay, the morne that sall we se.
Quhan to Monsour de Obenie
Reportit was the veritie,
How that the Squyer had tane on hand
To fecht with Talbart, hand for hand,
His greit courage he did commend;
Sine haistelie did for him send.
And quhen he come befoir the Lord,
The veritie he did record;
How, for the honour of Scotland,
That Battell he had tane on hand.
And, sen it giuis me in my hart,
Get I ane hors to tak my part,
My traist is sa in Goddis grace,
To leif him lyand in the place.
Howbeit he stalwart be, and stout,
My Lord, of him I haue no dout.
Than send the Lord out throw the Land,
And gat ane hundreth hors fra hand.
To his presence he brocht in haist,
And bad the Squyer cheis him the best.
Of that the Squyer was rejoisit,
And cheisit the best, as he suppoisit,
And lap on him delyuerlie.
Was neuer hors ran mair plesantlie,
With Speir and sword at his command,
And was the best of all the Land.
He tuik his leif, and went to rest,
Syne, airlie in the morne him drest,
Wantonlie, in his weirlyke weid,
All weill enarmit, saif the heid.
He lap vpon his Cursour wicht,
And straucht him in his stirroppis richt.
His speir, and scheild, & helme wes borne
With Squyeris that raid him beforne.
Ane veluot Cap on heid he bair,
Ane quoif of gold, to heild his hair.
This Lord of him tuik sa greit Ioy,
That he him self wald him conuoy,
With him ane hundreth men of Armes,
That thair suld no man do him harmes.
The Squyer buir, into his scheild,
Ane Otter in ane siluer Feild.
His hors was bairdit full richelie,
Couerit with Satyne Cramesie.
Than fordward raid this Campioun,
With sound of Trumpet and Clarioun,
And spedilie spurrit ouir the bent,
Lyke Mars, the God Armipotent.
Thus leif we rydand our Squyar,
And speik of Maister Talbart mair;
Quhilk gat vp airlie, in the morrow,
And no maner of geir to borrow,
Hors, Harnes, Speir, nor Scheild,
Bot was ay reddie for the Feild;
And had sic practik into weir,
Of our Squyer he tuik na feir.
And said vnto his companȝeoun,
Or he come furth of his Pauilȝeoun,
This nicht I saw, into my dreame,
Quhilk to reheirs I think greit shame;
Me thocht I saw cum, fra the See,
Ane greit Otter, rydand to me,
The quhilk was blak, with ane lang taill,
And cruellie did me assaill,
And bait me till he gart me bleid,
And drew me backwart fra my steid.
Quhat this suld mene I can not say;
Bot I was neuer in sic ane fray.
His fellow said, think ȝe not schame
For to gif credence till ane dreame?
Ȝe knaw it is aganis our Faith.
Thairfoir go dres ȝow in ȝour graith,
And think weill, throw ȝour hie courage
This day ȝe sall wyn vassalage.
Than drest he him into his geir,
Wantounlie, like ane Man of weir,
Quhilk had baith hardines and fors,
And lichtlie lap vpon his hors.
His hors was bairdit full brauelie,
And couerit wes, richt courtfullie,
With browderit wark and veluot grene.
Sanct Georges Croce thair micht be sene,
On Hors, Harnes, and all his geir.
Than raid he furth, withouttin weir,
Conuoyit with his Capitane,
And with monie ane Inglisman,
Arrayit all with Armes bricht:
Micht no man see ane fairer sicht.

Than clariounis and trumpettis blew,
And weiriouris monie hither drew.
On euerie side come monie Man,
To behald quha the Battell wan.
The feild wes in the Medow grene,
Quhair euerie man micht weill be sene.
The Heraldis put thame sa in ordour,
That no man passit within the bordour,
Nor preissit to cum within the grene,
Bot Heraldis and the Campiounis kene.
The ordour and the circumstance
Wer lang to put in remembrance.
Quhen thir twa nobill Men of weir
Wer weill accowterit in thair geir,
And in thair handis strang burdounis,
Than Trumpotis blew & Clariounis,
And Heraldis cryit hie on hicht,
Now let thame go. God shaw the richt.
Than spedilie thay spurrit thair hors,
And ran to vther with sic fors
That baith thair speiris in sindrie flaw.
Than said they all, that stude on raw,
Ane better cours than they twa ran,
Was not sene sen the warld began.
Than baith the parties wer rejoisit:
The Campiounis ane quhyle repoisit,
Till thay had gottin speiris new.
Than with triumph the trumpettis blew,
And they, with all the force thay can,
Wounder rudelie at aither ran,
And straik at vther with sa greit Ire,
That fra thair Harnes flew the Fyre.
Thair Speiris war sa teuch & strang,
That aither vther to Eirth doun dang:
Baith hors & man, with Speir and scheild,
Than flatlingis lay into the feild.
Than Maister Talbart was eschamit:
Forsuith, for euer I am defamit.
And said this, I had rather die,
Without that I reuengit be.
Our ȝoung Squyer, sic was his hap,
Was first on fute; and on he lap
Upon his hors, without support.
Of that the Scottis tuke gude comfort,
Quhen thay saw him sa feirelie
Loup on his Hors sa galȝeardlie.
The Squyer liftit his Uisair
Ane lytill space, to take the Air.
Thay bad him wyne; and he it drank,
And humillie he did thame thank.
Be that, Talbart on Hors [was] mountit,
And of our Squyer lytill countit,
And cryit, gif he durst vndertak
To ryn anis for his Ladies saik.
The Squyer answerit hie on hicht,
That sall I do, be Marie bricht.
I am content all day to ryn,
Till ane of vs the honour wyn.
Of that Talbart was weill content,
And ane greit Speir in hand he hent.
The Squyer in his hand he thrang
His Speir, quhilk was baith greit & lang,
With ane sharp heid of grundin steill,
Of quhilk he was appleisit weill.
That plesand Feild was lang and braid,
Quhair gay ordour and rowme was maid,
And euerie man micht haue gude sicht,
And thair was monie weirlyke Knicht.
Sum man of euerie Natioun
Was in that Congregatioun.
Than Trumpettis blew triumphantlie,
And thay twa Campiounis egeirlie
Thay spurrit thair hors, with speir on breist,
Pertlie to preif thair pith thay preist.
That round, rinkroume wes at vtterance,
Bot Talbartis Hors, with ane mischance,
He outterit, and to ryn was laith,
Quhairof Talbart was wonder wraith.
The Squyer furth his rink he ran,
Commendit weill with euerie man,
And him dischargit of his speir,
Honestlie lyke ane Man of Weir.
Becaus that rink thay ran in vane,
Than Talbart wald not ryn agane,
Till he had gottin ane better steid,
Quhilk was brocht to him with gude speid,
Quhairon he lap, and tuik his speir,
As brym as he had bene ane Beir,
And bowtit fordwart, with ane bend,
And ran on to the Rinkis end,
And saw his hors was at command.
Than wes he blyith, I vnderstand,
Traistand na mair to ryn in vane.
Than all the Trumpettis blew agane:
Be that, with all the force they can,
Thay richt rudelie at vther ran.
Of that meiting ilk man thocht wounder,
Quhilk soundit lyke ane crak of thunder,
And nane of thame thair marrow mist.
Sir Talbartis speir in sunder brist,
Bot the Squyer, with his burdoun,
Sir Talbart to the eirth dang doun.
That straik was with sic micht and fors,
That on the ground lay man and hors;
And throw the brydell hand him bair,
And in the breist ane span and mair,
Throw curras, and throw gluifis of plait,
That Talbart micht mak na debait.
The trencheour of the Squyeris speir
Stak still into Sir Talbartis Geir.
Than euerie man, into that steid,
Did all beleue that he was deid.
The Squyer lap richt haistelie
From his Cursour, deliuerlie,
And to Sir Talbart maid support,
And humillie did him comfort.
Quhen Talbart saw, into his Scheild,
Ane Otter in ane siluer Feild,
This race (said he) I may sair rew,
For I see weill my dreame wes trew.
Me thocht ȝone Otter gart me bleid,
And buir me backwart from my steid.
Bot heir I vow to God Souerane,
That I sall neuer Iust agane.
And sweitlie to the Squyer said,
Thow knawis the cunning that we maid,
Quhilk of vs twa suld tyne the Feild
He suld baith Hors and Armour ȝeild
Till him that wan: quhairfoir, I will
My Hors and Harnes geue the till.
Than said the Squyer, Courteouslie,
Brother, I thank ȝow hartfullie.
Of ȝow, forsuith, nathing I craue,
For I haue gottin that I wald haue.
With euerie man he was commendit,
Sa vailȝeandlie he him defendit.
The Capitane of the Inglis band
Tuke the ȝoung Squyer be the hand,
And led him to the Pailȝeoun,
And gart him mak Collatioun.
Quhen Talbartis woundis wes bund vp fast,
The Inglis Capitane to him past,
And prudentlie did him comfort:
Syne said, Brother, I ȝow exhort
To tak the Squyer be the hand.
And sa he did, at his command,
And said, this bene bot chance of Armes.
With that, he braisit him in his armes,
Sayand, hartlie I ȝow forgeue.
And than the Squyer tuik his leue,
Commendit weill with euerie man.
Than wichtlie on his hors he wan,
With monie ane Nobill man conuoyit.
Leue we thair Talbart, sair annoyit.
Sum sayis, of that discomfitour
He thocht sic schame and dishonour,
That he departit of that Land,
And neuer wes sene into Ingland.
Bot our Squyer did still remane,
Efter the Weir, quhill Peice was tane.
All Capitanes of the Kingis Gairdis
Gaif to the Squyer riche rewairdis:
Becaus he had sa weill debaitit,
With euerie Nobill he wes weill traitit.
Efter the Weir he tuke licence;
Syne did returne, with diligence,
From Pycardie to Normandie;
And thair ane space remanit he,
Becaus the Nauie of Scotland
Wes still vpon the Coist lyand.

Quhen he ane quhyle had sojornit,
He to the Court of France returnit,
For to decore his vassalege;
From Bartanȝe tuke his veyage,
With aucht scoir, in his companie,
Of waillit wicht men and hardie,
Enarmit weill, lyke men of Weir,
With Hakbut, Culuering, Pik, and Speir;
And passit vp throw Normandie,
Till Ambiance in Pycardie,
Quhair Nobill Lowes, the King of France,
Wes lyand with his Ordinance,
With monie ane Prince and worthie man.
And in the Court of France wes, than,
Ane meruellous Congregatioun
Of monie ane diuers Natioun:
Of Ingland monie ane prudent Lord,
Efter the Weir makand record.
Thair wes, than, ane Ambassadour,
Ane Lord, ane man of greit honour.
With him was monie Nobill Knicht
Of Scotland, to defend thair richt,
Quhilk guydit thame sa honestlie,
Inglismen had thame at inuie.
And purposit to mak thame cummer,
Becaus they wer of greiter number.
And sa, quhaireuer thay with thame met,
Upon the Scottis thay maid onset,
And, lyke wyld Lyounis furious,
Thay layd ane seige about the hous,
Thame to destroy, sa thay intendit.
Our worthie Scottis thame weill defendit.
The Sutheroun wes ay fywe for ane;
Sa, on ilk syde, thair wes men slane.
The Inglismen grew in greit Ire,
And cryit, swyith, set the hous in fyre.
Be that, the Squyer Meldrum
Into the Market streit wes cum,
With his folkis in gude array,
And saw the toun wes in ane fray.
He did inquyre the occasioun.
(Quod thay) the Scottis ar all put doun
Be Inglismen into thair Innis.
(Quod he) I wald gif all the Bynnis,
That I micht cum or thay departit.
With that, he grew sa cruell hartit,
That he was like ane wyld Lyoun,
And rudelie ran outthrow the toun,
With all his companie weill arrayit,
And with Baner full braid displayit.
And, quhen thay saw the Inglis rout,
Thay set vpon thame, with ane schout.
With reird sa rudelie on thame ruschit,
That fiftie to the eirth thay duschit.
Thair was nocht ellis bot tak and slay.
This Squyer wounder did, that day,
And stoutlie stoppit in the stour,
And dang on thame with dintis dour.
Wes neuer man buir better hand:
Thair micht na Buckler byde his brand;
For it was weill seuin quarter lang.
With that sa derflie on thame dang,
That, lyke ane worthie Campioun,
Ay at ane straik he dang ane doun.
Sum wes euill hurt, and sum wes slane;
Sum fell, quhilk rais not ȝit agane.
Quhen that the Sutheroun saw his micht,
Effrayitlie thay tuke the flicht,
And wist not quhair to flie, for haist.
Thus throw the toun he hes thame chaist.
Wer not Frenchemen come to the redding,
Thair had bene mekill mair blude shedding.

Of this journey I mak ane end,
Quhilk euerie Nobill did commend.
Quhen to the King the cace wes knawin,
And all the suith vnto him shawin,
How this Squyer sa manfullie
On Sutheroun wan the victorie,
He put him into ordinance.
And sa he did remane in France,
Ane certane tyme, for his plesour,
Weill estemit in greit honour,
Quhair he did monie ane Nobill deid.
With that, richt wantoun in his weid,
Quhen Ladies knew his hie courage,
He was desyrit in Mariage
Be ane Ladie of greit Rent.
Bot ȝouth maid him sa insolent,
That he in France wald not remane,
Bot come to Scotland hame agane.
Thocht Frenche Ladies did for him murne,
The Scottis wer glaid of his returne.
At euerie Lord he tuke his leue;
Bot his departing did thame greiue;
For he was luifit with all wichtis,
Quhilk had him sene defend his richtis.
Scottis Capitanes did him conuoy,
Thocht his departing did thame noy,
At Deip he maid him for the saill,
Quhair he furnischit ane gay veschaill,
For his self and his Men of Weir,
With Artailȝie, Hakbut, Bow, and Speir,
And furneist hir with gude victuaill,
With the best wyne that he culd waill.
And quhen the Schip was reddie maid,
He lay bot ane day in the raid,
Quhill he gat wind of the Southeist.
Than thay thair ankeris weyit on haist,
And syne maid Saill, and fordwart past,
Ane day, at morne: till, at the last,
Of ane greit saill thay gat ane sicht,
And Phœbus schew his bemis bricht,
Into the morning richt airlie.
Than past the Skipper, richt spedelie,
Up to the top, with richt greit feir,
And saw it wes ane Man of Weir,
And cryit, I see nocht ellis, perdie,
Bot we mon outher fecht or fle.
The Squyer wes in his bed lyand,
Quhen he hard tell this new tydand.
Be this, the Inglis Artailȝe,
Lyke hailschot, maid on thame assailȝe,
And sloppit throw thair fechting saillis,
And diuers dang out ouir the waillis.
The Scottis agane, with all thair micht
Of gunnis, than thay leit fle ane flicht.
That thay micht weill see quhair they wair,
Heidis and armes flew in the Air.
The Scottis Schip scho wes sa law,
That monie gunnis out ouir hir flaw,
Quhilk far beȝond thame lichtit doun.
Bot the Inglis greit Galȝeoun
Fornent thame stude, lyke ane strang castell,
That the Scottis gunnis micht na way faill,
Bot hat hir ay on the richt syde,
With monie ane slop, for all hir pryde,
That monie ane beft wer on thair bakkis.
Than rais the reik with vglie crakkis,
Quhilk on the Sey maid sic ane sound,
That in the Air it did redound,
That men micht weill wit on the land,
That shippis wer on the Sey fechtand.
Be this, the Gyder straik the shippis,
And ather on vther laid thair clippis;
And than began the strang battell.
Ilk man his marrow did assaill:
Sa rudelie thay did rushe togidder,
That nane micht hald thair feit for slidder:
Sum with halbert, and sum with speir,
Bot hakbuttis did the greitest deir.
Out of the top the grundin dartis
Did diuers peirs outthrow the hartis.
Euerie man did his diligence
Upon his fo to wirk vengence,
Ruschand on vther routtis rude,
That ouir the waillis ran the blude.
The Inglis Capitane cryit hie,
Swyith, ȝeild ȝow, doggis, or ȝe sall die;
And, do ȝe not, I mak ane vow,
That Scotland salbe quyte of ȝow.
Than peirtlie answerit the Squyar,
And said, O tratour Tauernar,
I lat the wit, thow hes na micht
This day to put vs to the flicht.
Thay derflie ay at vther dang:
The Squyer thristit throw the thrang,
And in the Inglis schip he lap,
And hat the Capitane sic ane flap
Upon his heid till he fell doun,
Welterand intill ane deidlie swoun.
And, quhen the Scottis saw the Squyer
Had strikkin doun that rank Reuer,
They left thair awin schip standand waist,
And in the Inglis schip, in haist,
They followit, all, thair Capitane:
And sone wes all the Sutheroun slane.
Howbeit thay wer of greiter number,
The Scottismen put thame in sic cummer,
That thay wer fane to leif the Feild,
Cryand, mercie, than did thame ȝeild.
Ȝit wes the Squyer straikand fast
At the Capitane; till, at the last,
Quhen he persauit no remeid,
Outher to ȝeild, or to be deid,
He said, O gentill Capitane,
Thoill me not for to be slane.
My lyfe to ȝow salbe mair pryse
Nor sall my deith, ane thowsand syse.
For ȝe may get, as I suppois,
Thrie thowsand Nobillis of the Rois
Of me and of my companie:
Thairfoir, I cry ȝow loud mercie.
Except my lyfe, nothing I craif:
Tak ȝow the schip and all the laif.
I ȝeild to ȝow baith sword and knyfe:
Thairfoir, gude Maister, saue my Lyfe.
The Squyer tuik him be the hand,
And on his feit he gart him stand,
And treittit him richt tenderly,
And syne vnto his men did cry,
And gaif to thame richt strait command,
To straik no moir, bot hald thair hand.
Than baith the Capitanes ran and red;
And so thair wes na mair blude shed.
Than all the laif thay did thame ȝeild,
And to the Scottis gaif sword and sheild.
Ane Nobill Leiche the Squyer had,
Quhairof the Inglismen wes full glaid,
To quhome the Squyer gaif command
The woundit men to tak on hand.
And so he did, with diligence,
Quhairof he gat gude recompence.
Than, quhen the woundit men wer drest,
And all the deand men confest,
And deid men cassin in the See,
Quhilk to behald wes greit pietie,
Thair was slane, of [the] Inglis band,
Fyue scoir of men, I vnderstand,
The quhilk wer cruell men and kene,
And of the Scottis wer slane fyftene.
And quhen the Inglis Capitane
Saw how his men wer tane and slane,
And how the Scottis, sa few in number,
Had put thame in sa greit ane cummer,
He grew intill ane frenesy,
Sayand, fals Fortoun, I the defy:
For I beleuit, this day at morne,
That he was not in Scotland borne,
That durst haue met me, hand for hand,
Within the boundis of my brand.
The Squyer bad him mak gude cheir,
And said, it wes bot chance of Weir.
Greit Conquerouris, I ȝow assure,
Hes hapnit siclike aduenture:
Thairfoir, mak mirrie, and go dyne,
And let vs preif the michtie wyne.
Sum drank wyne, and sum drank Aill,
Syne put the shippis vnder saill,
And waillit furth of the Inglis band
Twa hundreth men, and put on land,
Quyetlie, on the Coist of Kent:
The laif in Scotland with him went.
The Inglis Capitane, as I ges,
He wairdit him in the Blaknes,
And treitit him richt honestlie,
Togither with his companie,
And held thame in that Garnisoun,
Till thay had payit thair Ransoun.

Out throw the land than sprang the fame,
That Squyer Meldrum wes cum hame.
Quhen thay hard tell how he debaitit,
With euerie man he was sa treitit,
That, quhen he trauellit throw the land,
Thay bankettit him fra hand to hand,
With greit solace: till, at the last,
Out throw Straitherne the Squyer past.
And, as it did approch the nicht,
Of ane Castell he gat ane sicht,
Beside ane Montane, in ane vaill:
And than, efter his greit trauaill,
He purpoisit him to repois,
Quhair ilk man did of him rejois.
Of this triumphant plesand place
Ane lustie Ladie wes Maistres,
Quhais Lord was deid schort tyme befoir,
Quhairthrow hir dolour wes the moir.
Bot ȝit scho tuke sum comforting,
To heir the plesant dulce talking
Of this ȝoung Squyer, of his chance,
And how it fortunit him in France.
This Squyer and the Ladie gent
Did wesche, and then to supper went.
During that nicht thair was nocht ellis
Bot for to heir of his Nouellis.
Eneas, quhen he fled from Troy,
Did not Quene Dido greiter Ioy,
Quhen he in Carthage did arryue,
And did the seige of Troy discryue.
The wonderis that he did reheirs
Wer langsum for to put in vers,
Of quhilk this Ladie did rejois.
Thay drank, and syne went to repois.
He fand his Chalmer weill arrayit
With dornik work on buird displayit.
Of Uenisoun he had his waill,
Gude Aquavite, Wyne, and Aill,
With nobill Confeittis, Bran, and Geill;
And swa the Squyer fuir richt weill.
Sa, to heir mair of his narratioun,
This Ladie come to his Collatioun,
Sayand he was richt welcum hame.
Grandmercie than (quod he) Madame.
Thay past the time with Ches and Tabill;
For he to euerie game was abill.
Than vnto bed drew euerie wicht:
To Chalmer went this Ladie bricht,
The quhilk this Squyer did conuoy.
Syne, till his bed he went, with Ioy.
That nicht he sleipit neuer ane wink,
Bot still did on the Ladie think;
Cupido, with his fyrie dart,
Did peirs him so out throw the hart.
Sa all that nicht he did bot murnit,
Sum tyme sat vp, and sumtyme turnit,
Sichand with monie gant and grane,
To fair Venus makand his mane,
Sayand, Ladie, quhat may this mene?
I was ane fre man lait ȝistrene,
And now ane catiue bound and thrall
For ane that I think Flour of all.

I pray God sen scho knew my mynd,
How, for hir saik, I am sa pynd.
Wald God I had bene ȝit in France,
Or I had hapnit sic mischance,
To be subject or seruiture
Till ane quhilk takis of me na cure.
This Ladie ludgit neirhand by,
And hard the Squyer priuely,
With dreidfull hart, makand his mone,
With monie cairfull gant and grone.
Hir hart fulfillit with pietie,
Thocht scho wald haif of him mercie,
And said, howbeit I suld be slane,
He sall haue lufe for lufe agane.
Wald God I micht, with my honour,
Haue him to be my Paramour.
This wes the mirrie tyme of May,
Quhen this fair Ladie, freshe and gay,
Start vp, to take the hailsum Air,
With pantonis on hir feit ane pair,
Airlie into ane cleir morning,
Befoir fair Phœbus vprysing,
Kirtill alone, withouttin Clok,
And saw the Squyeris dure vnlok.
Scho slippit in, or euer he wist,
And fenȝeitlie past till ane kist,
And with hir keyis oppinnit the Lokkis,
And maid hir to take furth ane Boxe:
Bot that was not hir erand thair.
With that, this lustie ȝoung Squyar
Saw this Ladie so plesantlie
Cum to his Chalmer quyetlie,
In Kyrtill of fyne Damais broun,
Hir goldin traissis hingand doun.
Hir Pappis wer hard, round, and quhyte,
Quhome to behald wes greit delyte.
Lyke the quhyte lyllie wes hir lyre;
Hir hair was like the reid gold wyre;
Hir schankis quhyte withouttin hois,
Quhairat the Squyer did rejois.
And said than, now, vailȝe quod vailȝe,
Upon the Ladie thow mak ane sailȝe.
Hir Courlyke Kirtill was vnlaist,
And sone into his armis hir braist,
And said to hir; Madame, gude-morne;
Help me, ȝour man that is forlorne.
Without ȝe mak me sum remeid,
Withouttin dout I am bot deid;
Quhairfoir, ȝe mon releif my harmes.
With that, he hint hir in his armes,
And talkit with hir on the flure;
Syne, quyetlie did bar the dure.
Squyer (quod scho) quhat is ȝour will?
Think ȝe my womanheid to spill?
Na, God forbid, it wer greit syn;
My Lord and ȝe wes neir of Kyn.
Quhairfoir, I mak ȝow supplicatioun,
Pas, and seik ane dispensatioun;
Than sall I wed ȝow with ane Ring;
Than may ȝe leif at ȝour lyking.
For ȝe ar ȝoung, lustie, and fair,
And als ȝe ar ȝour Fatheris Air.
Thair is na Ladie, in all this land,
May ȝow refuse to hir Husband;
And gif ȝe lufe me as ȝe say,
Haist to dispens the best ȝe may;
And thair to ȝow I geue my hand,
I sall ȝow take to my Husband.
(Quod he) quhill that I may indure,
I vow to be ȝour seruiture;
Bot I think greit vexatioun
To tarie vpon dispensatioun.
Than in his armis he did hir thrist,
And aither vther sweitlie kist,
And wame for wame thay vther braissit;
With that, hir Kirtill wes vnlaissit.
Than Cupido, with his fyrie dartis,
Inflammit sa thir Luiferis hartis,
Thay micht na maner of way disseuer,
Nor ane micht not part fra ane vther;
Bot, like wodbind, thay wer baith wrappit.
Thair tenderlie he hes hir happit,
Full softlie vp, intill his Bed.
Iudge ȝe gif he hir schankis shed.
Allace (quod scho) quhat may this mene?
And with hir hair scho dicht hir Ene.

I can not tell how thay did play;
Bot I beleue scho said not nay.
He pleisit hir sa, as I hard sane,
That he was welcum ay agane.
Scho rais, and tenderlie him kist,
And on his hand ane Ring scho thrist;
And he gaif hir ane lufe drowrie,
Ane Ring set with ane riche Rubie,
In takin that thair Lufe for euer
Suld neuer frome thir twa disseuer.
And than scho passit vnto hir Chalmer,
And fand hir madinnis, sweit as Lammer,
Sleipand full sound; and nothing wist
How that thair Ladie past to the Kist.
(Quod thay) Madame, quhair haue ȝe bene?
(Quod scho) into my Gardine grene,
To heir thir mirrie birdis sang.
I lat ȝow wit, I thocht not lang,
Thocht I had taryit thair quhill None.
(Quod thai) quhair wes ȝour hois & schone?
Quhy ȝeid ȝe with ȝour bellie bair?
(Quod scho) the morning wes sa fair:
For, be him that deir Iesus sauld,
I felt na wayis ony maner of cauld.
(Quod thay) Madame, me think ȝe sweit.
(Quod scho) ȝe see I sufferit heit;
The dew did sa on flouris fleit,
That baith my Lymmis ar maid weit:
Thairfoir ane quhyle I will heir ly,
Till this dulce dew be fra me dry.
Ryse, and gar mak our denner reddie.
That salbe done (quod thay) my Ladie.
Efter that scho had tane hir rest,
Scho rais, and in hir Chalmer hir drest,
And, efter Mes, to denner went.
Than wes the Squyer diligent
To declair monie sindrie storie
Worthie to put in Memorie.

Quhat sall we of thir Luiferis say,
Bot, all this tyme of lustie May,
They past the tyme with Ioy and blis,
Full quyetlie, with monie ane kis.
Thair was na Creature that knew
Ȝit of thir Luiferis Chalmer glew.
And sa he leuit, plesandlie,
Ane certane time, with his Ladie;
Sum time with halking and hunting,
Sum time with wantoun hors rinning,
And sum time like ane man of weir,
Full galȝardlie wald ryn ane speir.
He wan the pryse abone thame all,
Baith at the Buttis and the Futeball.
Till euerie solace he was abill,
At cartis, and dyce, at Ches, and tabill:
And, gif ȝe list, I sall ȝow tell,
How that he seigit ane Castell.
Ane Messinger come spedilie,
From the Lennox to that Ladie,
And schew [hir] how that Makfagon,
And with him monie bauld Baron,
Hir Castell [he] had tane perfors,
And nouther left hir kow nor hors,
And heryit all that land about;
Quhairof the Ladie had greit dout.
Till hir Squyer scho passit in haist,
And schew him how scho wes opprest,
And how he waistit monie ane myle,
Betuix Dunbartane and Argyle.
And, quhen the Squyer Meldrum
Had hard thir Nouellis, all and sum,
Intill his hart thair grew sic Ire,
That all his bodie brint in fyre;
And swoir it suld be full deir sald,
Gif he micht find him in that hald.
He and his men did them addres,
Richt haistelie, in thair Harnes;
Sum with bow, and sum with speir,
And he, like Mars, the God of weir,
Come to the Ladie, and tuke his leif.
And scho gaif him hir richt hand gluif,
The quhilk he on his basnet bure.
And said, Madame, I ȝow assure,
That worthie Lancelot du laik
Did neuer mair, for his Ladies saik,
Nor I sall do, or ellis de,
Without that ȝe reuengit be.
Than in hir armes scho him braist,
And he his leif did take in haist,
And raid that day, and all the nicht,
Till, on the morne, he gat ane sicht
Of that Castell, baith fair and strang.
Than, in the middis, his men amang,
To michtie Mars his vow he maid,
That he suld neuer in hart be glaid,
Nor ȝit returne furth of that land,
Quhill that strenth wer at his command.
All the Tennentis of that Ladie
Come to the Squyer haistelie,
And maid aith of fidelitie,
That they suld neuer fra him flie.
Quhen to Makferland, wicht and bauld,
The veritie all haill wes tauld,
How the ȝoung Squyer Meldrum
Wes now into the Cuntrie cum,
Purpoisand to seige that place,
Than vittaillit he thar Fortres,
And swoir he suld that place defend,
Bauldlie, vntill his lyfis end.
Be this, the Squyer wes arrayit,
With his Baner bricht displayit,
With culuering, hakbut, bow, and speir.
Of Makfarland he tuke na feir,
And, like ane Campioun courageous,
He cryit and said, gif ouir the hous.
The Capitane answerit, heichly,
And said, tratour, we the defy:
We sall remane this hous within,
Into despyte of all thy kyn.
With that, the Archeris, bauld and wicht,
Of braid arrowis let fle ane flicht
Amang the Squyeris companie;
And thay, agane, richt manfullie,
With Hakbute, Bow, and Culueryne,
Quhilk put Makferlandis men to pyne;
And on thair colleris laid full sikker.
And thair began ane bailfull bikker.
Thair was bot schot and schot agane,
Till, on ilk side, thair wes men slane.
Than cryit the Squyer couragious,
Swyith, lay the ledderis to the hous.
And sa thay did, and clam, belyfe,
As busie Beis dois to thair hyfe.
Howbeit thair wes slane monie man,
Ȝit wichtlie ouir the wallis they wan.
The Squyer, formest of them all,
Plantit the Baner ouir the wall.
And than began the mortall fray:
Thair wes not ellis bot tak and slay.
Than Makferland, that maid the prais,
From time he saw the Squyeris face,
Upon his kneis he did him ȝeild,
Deliuerand him baith speir and scheild.
The Squyer hartlie him ressauit,
Commandand that he suld be sauit;
And sa did slaik that mortall feid,
Sa that na man wes put to deid.
In fre waird was Makferland seisit,
And leit the laif gang quhair they pleisit.
And sa this Squyer amorous
Seigit and wan the Ladies hous,
And left thairin ane Capitane:
Syne, to Stratherne returnit agane,
Quhair that he with his fair Ladie
Ressauit wes full plesantlie,
And to tak rest did him conuoy.
Iudge ȝe gif thair wes mirth and Ioy.
Howbeit the Chalmer dure wes cloisit,
They did bot kis, as I suppois it:
Gif vther thing wes them betwene,
Let them discouer that Luiferis bene:
For I am not in Lufe expart,
And neuer studyit in that art.

Thus they remainit in merines,
Beleifand neuer to haue distres.
In that meine time, this Ladie fair
Ane douchter to the Squyer bair:
Nane fund wes fairer of visage.
Than tuke the Squyer sic courage,
Agane the mirrie time of May,
Threttie he put in his Luferay,
In Scarlot fyne, and of hew grene,
Quhilk wes ane semelie sicht to sene.

The gentilmen, in all that land,
Wer glaid with him to mak ane band.
And he wald plainelie tak thair partis,
And not desyring bot thair hartis.
Thus leuit the Squyer plesandlie,
With Musick and with Menstralie.
Of this Ladie he wes sa glaid,
Thair micht na sorrow mak him sad:
Ilk ane did vther consolatioun,
Taryand vpon dispensatioun.
Had it cum hame, he had hir bruikit,
Bot, or it come, it wes miscuikit:
And all this game he bocht full deir,
As ȝe at lenth sall efter heir.

Of warldlie Ioy it is weill kend,
That sorrow bene the fatall end;
For Ielousie and fals Inuie
Did him persew richt cruellie;
I meruell not thocht it be so,
For they wer euer Luiferis fo:
Quhairthrow he stude in monie ane stour,
And ay defendit his honour.

Ane cruell Knicht dwelt neir hand by,
Quhilk at this Squyer had Inuy,
Imaginand, intill his hart,
How he thir Luiferis micht depart,
And wald haue had hir maryand
Ane gentilman, within his land,
The quhilk to him wes not in blude:
Bot, finallie for to conclude,
Thairto scho wald neuer assent.
Quhairfoir the Knicht set his Intent
This nobill Squyer for to destroy,
And swore he suld neuer haue Ioy
In till his hart, without remeid,
Till ane of thame wer left for deid.
This vailȝeand Squyer, manfully,
In ernist or play did him defy,
Offerand him self for to assaill,
Bodie for bodie, in battaill.
The Knicht thairto not condiscendit,
Bot to betrais him ay intendit.

Sa it fell, anis vpon ane day,
In Edinburgh, as I hard say,
This Squyer and the Ladie trew
Was thair, just matteris to persew.
That cruell Knicht, full of Inuy,
Gart hald on them ane secreit Spy,
Quhen thaj suld pas furth of the toun,
For this Squyeris confusioun,
Quhilk traistit no man suld him greiue,
Nor of tressoun had no beleiue.
And tuik his licence from his Oist,
And liberallie did pay his Coist,
And sa departit, blyith and mirrie,
With purpois to pas ouir the Ferrie.
He wes bot auchtsum in his rout;
For of danger he had no dout.
The Spy come to the Knicht, anone,
And him informit how they wer gone.
Than gadderit he his men in hy,
With thrie scoir in his company,
Accowterit weill in feir of weir,
Sum with bow, and sum with speir,
And on the Squyer followit fast,
Till thay did see him, at the last,
With all his men richt weill arrayit,
With cruell men nathing effrayit.
And quhen the Ladie saw the rout,
God wait gif scho stude in greit dout.
(Quod scho) ȝour enemeis I see;
Thairfoir, sweit hart, I reid ȝow fle.
In the cuntrey I will be kend;
Ȝe ar na partie to defend.
Ȝe knaw ȝone Knichtis crueltie,
That in his hart hes no mercie.
It is bot ane that thay wald haue;
Thairfoir, deir hart, ȝour self ȝe saue.
Howbeit thay tak me with this trane,
I salbe sone at ȝow agane:
For ȝe war neuer sa hard staid.
Madame (quod he) be ȝe not raid;
For, be the halie Trinitie,
This day ane fute I will not fle.
And, be he had endit this word,
He drew ane lang twa handit sword,
And put his aucht men in array,
And bad that thay suld tak na fray.
Than to the Squyer cryit the Knicht,
And said, send me the Ladie bricht.
Do ȝe not sa, be Goddis Croce,
I sall hir tak away perforce.
The Squyer said, be thow ane Knicht,
Cum furth to me, and shaw the richt,
Bot hand for hand, without redding,
That thair be na mair blude shedding:
And gif thow winnis me in the feild,
I sall my Ladie to the ȝeild.
The Knicht durst not, for all his land,
Fecht with this Squyer hand for hand.
The Squyer than saw no remeid,
Bot outher to fecht or to be deid.
To heuin he liftit vp his visage,
Cryand to God, with hie courage,
To the my querrell I do commend:
Syne, bowtit fordwart, with ane bend.
With countenance baith bauld and stout,
He rudelie rushit in that rout;
With him, his litill companie,
Quhilk them defendit manfullie.
The Squyer, with his birneist brand,
Amang his fa men maid sic hand,
That Gaudefer, as sayis the Letter,
At Gadderis Ferrie faucht no better.
His sword he swappit sa about,
That he greit roum maid in the rout;
And like ane man that was dispairit,
His wapoun sa on thame he wairit,
Quhome euer he hit, as I hard say,
Thay did him na mair deir, that day.
Quha euer come within his boundis,
He chaipit not but mortall woundis.
Sum mutilate wer, and sum wer slane,
Sum fled, and come not ȝit agane.
He hat the Knicht abone the breis,
That he fell fordwart on his kneis:
Wer not Thome Giffard did him saue,
The Knicht had sone bene in his graue.
Bot than the Squyer, with his brand,
Hat Thomas Giffard on the hand:
From that time furth, during his lyfe,
He neuer weildit sword nor knyfe.
Than come ane sort, as brim as beiris,
And in him festnit fyftene speiris,
In purpois to haue borne him doun.
Bot he, as forcie Campioun,
Amang thai wicht men wrocht greit wounder;
For all thai speiris he schure in sunder.
Nane durst cum neir him, hand for hand,
Within the boundis of his brand.
This worthie Squyer courageous
Micht be compairit to Tydeus,
Quhilk faucht for to defend his Richtis,
And slew of Thebes fyftie Knichtis.
Rolland, with Brandwell, his bricht brand,
Faucht neuer better, hand for hand,
Nor Gawin, aganis Golibras,
Nor Olyuer, with Pharambras.
I wait he faucht, that day, als weill
As did Sir Gryme aganis Graysteill.
And I dar say, he was als abill
As onie Knicht of the round Tabill,
And did his honour mair auance
Nor onie of thay Knichtis, perchance;
The quhilk I offer me to preif,
Gif that ȝe pleis, Sirs, with ȝour leif.

Amang thay Knichts wes maid ane band,
That they suld fecht bot hand for hand,
Assurit that thair suld cum no mo.
With this Squyer it stude not so;
His stalwart stour quha wald discryfe,
Aganis ane man thair come, ay, fyfe.
Quhen that this cruell tyrane Knicht
Saw the Squyer sa wounder wicht,
And had no micht him to destroy,
Into his hart thair grew sic noy,
That he was abill for to rage,
That no man micht his Ire asswage.
Fy on vs, said he to his men;
Ay aganis ane, sen we ar ten,
Chaip he away, we ar eschamit;
Like cowartis, we salbe defamit.
I had rather be in hellis pane,
Or he suld chaip fra vs vnslane.
And callit thrie of his companie,
Said: pas behind him, quyetlie.
And sa thay did, richt secreitlie,
And come behind him, cowartlie,
And hackit on his hochis and theis,
Till that he fell vpon his kneis.
Ȝit, quhen his schankis wer schorne in sunder,
Upon his kneis he wrocht greit wounder,
Sweipand his sword round about,
Not haifand of the deith na dout.
Durst nane approche within his boundis,
Till that his cruell mortall woundis
Bled sa, that he did swap in swoun;
Perforce behuifit him, than, fall doun.
And, quhen he lay vpon the ground,
They gaif him monie cruell wound,
That men on far micht heir the knokkis,
Like boucheouris hakkand on thair stokk[i]s.
And finallie, without remeid,
They left him lyand thair for deid,
With ma woundis of sword and knyfe
Nor euer had man that keipit lyfe.
Quhat suld I of thir tratouris say?
Quhen they had done, they fled away.
Bot than this lustie ladie fair,
With dolent hart, scho maid sic cair,
Quhilk wes greit pietie for to reheirs,
And langsum for to put in vers.
With teiris scho wuische his bludie face,
Sichand with manie loud allace.
Allace, quod scho, that I was borne:
In my querrell thow art forlorne.
Sall neuer man, efter this hour,
Of my bodie haue mair plesour:
For thow was gem of gentilnes,
And werie well of worthines.
Than to the eirth scho rushit doun,
And lay intill ane deidlie swoun.
Be that, the Regent of the land
Fra Edinburgh come fast rydand.
Sir Anthonie Darsie wes his name,
Ane Knicht of France, and man of fame,
Quhilk had the guiding, haillilie,
Under Iohne, Duke of Albanie,
Quhilk wes to our ȝoung King Tutour,
And of all Scotland Gouernour.
Our King was bot fyue ȝeiris of age,
That time quhen done wes the outrage.
Quhen this gude Knicht the Squyer saw,
Thus lyand in till his deid thraw,
Wo is me (quod he) to see this sicht
On the, quhilk worthie wes and wicht.
Wald God that I had bene with the,
As thow in France was anis with me,
Into the land of Picardy,
Quhair Inglis men had greit Inuy
To haue me slane, sa they intendit;
Bot manfullie thow me defendit,
And vailȝeandlie did saue my lyfe.
Was neuer man, with sword nor knyfe,
Nocht Hercules I dar weill say,
That euer faucht better for ane day.
Defendand me within ane stound,
Thow dang seir Sutheroun to the ground.
I may the mak no help, allace,
Bot I sall follow on the chace,
Richt spedilie, baith day and nicht,
Till I may get that cruell Knicht.
I mak ane vow, gif I may get him,
In till ane Presoun I sall set him,
And, quhen I heir that thow beis deid,
Than sall my handis straik of his heid.
With that, he gaue his hors the spurris,
And spedelie flaw ouir the furris.
He and his Gaird, with all thair micht,
They ran, till thaj ouirtuik the Knicht.
Quhen he approchit, he lichtit doun,
And, like ane vailȝeand Campioun,
He tuik the Tyrane presonar,
And send him backward to Dumbar;
And thar remainit in presoun,
Ane certane time, in that Dungeoun.
Let him ly thair, with mekill cair,
And speik we of our heynd Squyar,
Of quhome we can not speik bot gude.
Quhen he lay bathand in his blude,
His freindis and his Ladie fair
They maid for him sic dule and cair,
Quhilk wer greit pietie to deploir:
Of that matter I speik no moir.
Thay send for Leiches, haistelie,
Syne buir his bodie, tenderlie,
To ludge into ane fair ludgyne,
Quhair he ressauit medicyne.
The greitest Leichis of the land
Come all to him without command,
And all practikis on him prouit,
Becaus he was sa weill belouit.
Thay tuik on hand his life to saue,
And he thame gaif quhat they wald haue.
Bot he sa lang lay into pane,
He turnit to be ane Chirurgiane,
And als, be his naturall ingyne,
He lernit the Art of Medicyne.
He saw thame on his bodie wrocht,
Quhairfoir the Science wes deir bocht.
Bot efterward, quhen he was haill,
He spairit na coist, nor ȝit trauaill,
To preif his practikis on the pure,
And on thame preuit monie ane cure,
On his expensis, without rewaird:
Of Money he tuik na regaird.

Ȝit sum thing will we commoun mair
Of this Ladie, quhilk maid greit cair,
Quhilk to the Squyer wes mair pane
Nor all his woundis, in certane.
And than hir freindis did conclude,
Becaus scho micht do him na gude,
That scho suld take hir leif and go
Till hir cuntrie; and scho did so.
Bot thir luiferis met neuer agane,
Quhilk wes to thame ane lestand pane;
For scho, aganis hir will, wes maryit,
Quhairthrow hir weird scho daylie waryit.
Howbeit hir bodie wes absent,
Hir tender hart wes ay present,
Baith nicht and day, with hir Squyar.
Wes neuer Creature that maid sic cair:
Penelope for Ulisses,
I wait, had neuer mair distres;
Nor Cresseid for trew Troylus
Wes not tent part sa dolorous.
I wait it wes aganis hir hart
That scho did from hir Lufe depart.
Helene had not sa mekill noy,
Quhen scho perforce wes brocht to Troy.
I leif hir, than, with hart full sore,
And speik now of this Squyer more.

Quhen this Squyer wes haill & sound,
And softlie micht gang on the ground,
To the Regent he did complane;
Bot he, allace, wes richt sone slane
Be Dauid Hume, of Wedderburne,
The quhilk gart monie Frenchemen murne,
For thair was nane mair nobill Knicht,
Mair vailȝeand, mair wyse, mair wicht.
And, sone efter that crueltie,
The Knicht was put to libertie,
The quhilk the Squyer had opprest:
Sa wes his matter left vndrest.
Becaus the King was ȝoung of age,
Than tyrannis rang, into thair rage.
Bot, efterward, as I hard say,
On Striuiling brig, vpon ane day,
This Knicht wes slane with crueltie,
And that day gat na mair mercie
Nor he gaif to the ȝoung Squyar.
I say na mair; let him ly thair.
For cruell men, ȝe may weill see,
They end, ofttimes, with crueltie.
For Christ to Peter said this word,
Quha euer straikis with ane sword,
That man salbe with ane sword slane:
That saw is suith, I tell ȝow plane.
He menis, quha straikis cruellie,
Aganis the Law, without mercie.
Bot this Squyer to nane offendit,
Bot manfullie him self defendit.
Wes neuer man, with sword nor knyfe,
Micht saif thair honour and thair lyfe,
As did the Squyer all his dayis,
With monie terribill effrayis.
Wald I at lenth his lyfe declair,
I micht weill writ ane vther quair.
Bot at this time I may not mend it,
Bot shaw ȝow how the Squyer endit.

Thair dwelt in Fyfe ane agit Lord,
That of this Squyer hard record,
And did desire, richt hartfullie,
To haue him in his companie;
And send for him with diligence.
And he come with obedience,
And lang time did with him remane,
Of quhome this agit Lord was fane.
Wyse men desiris, commounlie,
Wyse men into thair companie;
For he had bene in monie ane Land,
In Flanderis, France, and in Ingland,
Quhairfoir the Lord gaif him the cure
Of his houshald, I ȝow assure,
And, in his Hall, cheif Merschall,
And auditour of his comptis all.
He was ane richt Courticiane,
And in the Law ane Practiciane;
Quhairfoir, during this Lordis lyfe,
Tchyref depute he wes in Fyfe;
To euerie man ane equall Iudge,
And of the pure he wes refuge,
And with Iustice did thame support,
And curit thair sairis with greit comfort;
For, as I did reheirs before,
Of Medicine he tuke the Lore.
Quhen he saw the Chirurgience
Upon him do thair diligence,
Experience maid him perfyte,
And of the Science tuke sic delyte,
That he did monie thriftie cure,
And speciallie vpon the pure,
Without rewaird for his expensis,
Without regaird or recompencis.
To gold, to siluer, or to rent,
This Nobill Squyer tuke litill tent.
Of all this warld na mair he craifit,
Sa that his honour micht be saifit.
And ilk ȝeir for his Ladies saik,
Ane Banket Royall wald he maik.
And that he maid on the Sonday
Precedand to Aschwednisday,
With wyld foull, venisoun, and wyne,
With tairt, and flam, and frutage fyne.
Of Bran and Geill thair wes na skant,
And Ipocras he wald not want.
I haue sene sittand at his Tabill,
Lordis and Lairdis honorabill,
With Knichtis & monie ane gay Squyar,
Quhilk wer to lang for to declair,
With mirth, Musick, and menstrallie.
All this he did for his Ladie,
And, for hir saik, during his lyfe
Wald neuer be weddit to ane wyfe.
And quhen he did declyne to age,
He faillit neuer of his courage.
Of ancient storyis for to tell,
Abone all vther he did precell;
Sa that euerilk Creature
To heir him speik thay tuke plesure.
Bot all his deidis honorabill
For to descryue I am not abill.
Of euerie man he was commendit,
And, as he leiuit, sa he endit,
Plesandlie, till he micht indure,
Till dolent deith come to his dure,
And cruellie, with his mortall dart,
He straik the Squyer throw the hart.
His saull, with Ioy Angelicall,
Past to the Heuin Imperiall.
Thus, at the Struther, into Fyfe,
This nobill Squyer loist his lyfe.
I pray to Christ for to conuoy
All sic trew Luiferis to his Ioy.
Say ȝe Amen, for Cheritie.
Adew, ȝe sall get na mair of me.