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Priamus, for pité of his pure sons,
Hade no wille for to weire, ne the wallis pas.
Two monethis with might, er he meue wold,
The yates to yeme he yepely comaundit.
The troiens in the tyme, as the text sais,
With myche sorow in the Cité, sobbyng vnfaire,
Hade no hope of þere hele: þan þere hert failet,
And þai drepit in dole, as þai degh shuld.
Agamynon, by graith men, to þe gret send
Oft-sythes, for sothe, in the same tyme,
Bade hym send furth his soudiouris, assemble to feld,
And buske vnto Batell, or his burgh yelde.
The noble hym denyet, for noy þat might happon,
He drede hym full depely for desteny feble,
Lest his folke in the feld were fynally distroyet;
And for hope þat he hade of a helpe sone.
Of Amysones auntrus atlet the qwene,
Þat was born to the burghe in the bare tyme,
Honerable Ector in armes to helpe.
There out in the Orient, in old mens dayes,
A prouynse of prise, þat prestly was cald
Amysone with all men, aftur full longe,
There wond in no wegh but wemen allone,
Withouten mon, owther make, to medill hom with.
Þai were strong of hor stature, stithest in armys,
And well enformet of the fete, þat to fight longit.
Euen before in þe frunt of þat faire yle,
Was a prouynse of prise, & praty men in;
ffull of all frute, and fode of the best,
Wond þere no wemen, ne no wegh ellis,
But men on þat mold, & mony þai were.
Now the maner was most of þo mylde wemen,
Thre mones with mirthe þo men for to viset;
Euermore in Auerill auntrid hom so,
With the monith of May, & the mery Ione,
There to leng with hor louys in lykyng a while.
Oft in wanton werkes wex þai with childe,
And sithen of solas soghton to þere londes.
When þo burdis þaire birthe hade borne of þere sydes,
If hit a woman were, with worship hit keppit,
And fostred hit furthe vppon faire wise;
And if þat sam had a sun of hir selfe borne,
Hit shuld be keppit full cleane, as þe clause tellus,
Thre yere thristely throngen to end,
Than sent to þe syre, and soiourne with hym.
Thus tide hit þat tyme, as I telle of,
There was a lady in þat lond, þat be lyne aght
All the kythe, & the crowne, & the kleane soile,—
A maidon full of might, & monly in armys,
Boldest in batell, best of hor hondes,—
Pantasilia, þat pert prestly was cald,
That honerable Ector od myche louyt,
ffor his prowes of prise, and his pert dedis,
And for wightist in wer of þis world þen.
Hit was told with a true of a tryet ost
Of grekes þat were gedrit to þe great troye,
Priam to oppresse, & his pure londes;
And ho come for þat cause, þat kyng for to helpe,
With hir maidons full myld, mightily in armys,
A thowsaund full þro, þrepand in wer.
ffor loue of þat lede, þat was of lyue past,
To þe Cité ho soght with hur sute hoole,
Noght knowing the case of þe kyd prinse,
Þat the doghty was dede & drepid for ay.
Whan þat worthy hit wist of his wale dethe,
Myche sorow & sykyng sanke in hir hert,
And mony dayes for dole þat doghty can wepe.
This lady at the last lefte of hir sorow,
And prayt vnto Priam all with pure wordes,
His buernes vnto batell bainly to ordan,
And pull vp a port, let hom passe furthe.
Sho purpost hir plainly with hir pure maidons,
The grekes to greue, & she grace hade,
In fight for to fele of hir fell dynttes,
And of maidyns might make hom to know.
Þan Priam his prise men prestly comaundit,
Philmen, the fuerse kyng, & his feres all,
Eneas also, abill of dedis,
Polidamas the pert, with a prise batell,
With Pantasilia the pure prestly to wend.
Dardan to vndo þe doghty comaundit,
And all fore to þe fight in a frunt hole.
The grekes gird hom agayn with a grym fare,
And with launses on the laund lepyn to-gedur.
Breme was the broche in the brest þan!
Pantasilia so presit proud Menelaus,
Þat ho gird hym to ground with a grym dynt.
The horse of þat hathell hent ho belyue,
And raght by the Reynes to a ranke maiden.
Dyomede the derfe drofe to þe qwene,
With a course of his caple, and a kene speire.
Þat mighty hym met with a mayn stroke,
Þat he bend in the backe to þe bare sadell,
Vnneth held hym on horse for harme þat he þolet.
Ho raght to hym radly, reft hym his sheld,
And betoke [hit] full tite to a triet maiden.
Telamon with tene turnyt to þe lady,
To venge of hir velany, & voide hym of harme.
He launchit to þat louely with a light wille,
And ho keppit the kyng, kest hym to ground,
Till his head with the hard yerthe hurlit full sore.
So faght þat freike with hur fyne strenght,
Þat ho knowen was for kene with kaupe of hir swerd,
And myche dut for hir dynttes or þe day endit.
So þat worthy in wer wroght at þat tyme,
Þat Telamon ho toke, & turnyt away.
Diomede, þat Duke was duly beside,
Negh wode of his wit for þe wale kyng;
So he fore þere in fight with his fell strokes,
Þat the lede fro the ladis lawse away past.
Þan Pantasilia the pert with a pure steuyn,
Criet on hir company with a cant wille;
Assemblit hir sorte on a sad hepe,
And so fuersly þai faght with the felle grekes,
Thurgh helpe of þat hynd, and hir hede maidons,
Þat all fell to þe flight, & the feld leuyt.
The wemyn, as the went, welt hom to ground,
With swappis of hor swordes swelt mony knightes;
Chasit hom with choppis þo chyuallurs ladis,
To the side of the sea, or þai sesse wold.
There the grekes with grem had the gre lost,
And endit for euer, euyn at þat tyme,
Hade not Dyomede with dynttes done with hondes,
So wondurly well at the watur side.
There delt þai with dynttes, till the derke night,
All left þai for late & lackyng of Sun.
Pantasilia the pert, and hir prise maidnes,
Kyng Philmyn the fuerse, with his fyne knightes,
The prise men of Pafigon fro þe prese went,
Soghtyn to the Cite with hor sute hole,
Entrid full esely onon, as hom liked.
Þan Priam was proude, & prestly beleuyt
ffor to couer of care thurgh hir kyd helpe.

HERE FAGHT ÞAI TWO MONETHES.

Two monethis with might þai metton on bent,
Bothe the batels full breme, as the boke sais,
Duly yche day delton þai strokes,
Till Menelay the mene tyme hade the mere past
To Lycomede, þe lell kyng, & the lede broght,—
Neptolon the noble, next to Achilles.
He was sun to þat same, as I said ere,
Þat is Pirrus in proses propurly cald.
Two nomys had þat noble, þat I neuynt haue,
Knowen in his cuntre, kyndly by aither.
When he come to þe cost þere þe kynges lay,
Hym welcomyt tho worthy, as a wegh noble;
And the mirmydons mighty, for maistur hym toke,
Were glad of þe gome, & gretly honouryt.
The grekes fayne of þat freike, and with a frunt light,
Retaynit hym with Reuerence, þo Riche men all,
And honeret hym by ordinaunce with order of knight.
Telamon full tyte, tristy of dedis,
Gird hym full graidly with a gay sworde,
Bad hym nait hit nemly, and noy of his fos,
And dere for the dethe of his dere fader.
Two spurres full spedely spent on his helis,
Þat were gaily ouer-gilt, þo grete with hor hondes;
Þai betoke hym the tent of his tried fader,
And all the harneis hoole of þat hed kyng.
There þai fourmyt a fest with a fyne wille,
Serten dayes by-dene, duly to hold;
With Sacrifice solemne soghten þere halowes,
And all glad were þo grete of þe gome þan.

THE XXII & XXIII BATELL OF THE CITE.

When hit drogh to þe day, the Dukes with-oute
Busket vnto batell, and the burgh alse.
Tho mighty with mayn metton in the ffeld,
And girdon to-gedur on a grym wise.
Pirrus vnto prese put hym anon,
In the honerable armys of his avne fader.
Polidamas he preset with a prise swerd,
With sleght for to sle, & slyng vnto ground;
But hit passit his pouer, for his pure helpe
Of Phylmen, the fuerse kyng, fendit hym wele.
Pirrus, that proud kyng, presit so fast,
Þat he gird hym to ground of his gret horse.
He macchit hym with might þe mon for to take,
As by witnes in wer, & away lede:
But the Pafigons prudly put hym agayn,
Thaire lord to deliuer with his lyf hoole.
The Mirmydons mightely mellit hom with,
Þat þai caght not the kyng, þof þai care þolit.
Pantasilia come pertly with hir pure maidnes,
Brusshet into batell with a breme fare.
(All þaire colouris by corse were of cleane white,
As the glyssenond glemes þat glenttes on þe sknowe.)
Tho myld with the Mirmydons mellit so hard,
Þat mony worthy þai woundit, & warpit to dethe.
Þan Telamon come tyte with a tried wille,
To Pantasilia preset with a proud dynt.
He gird hir to ground, and greuit hir yll,
And ho stithly in the stoure start vppon fote,
Turnyt hir to Telamon tite with a swerd,
Hit hym so heturly with a hert wille,
Þat he hurlit down hedlonges to the hard erthe,
And lay gronond on ground with a grym noyse.
Than the maidnes with might, at the mene tyme,
Theire lady vppolofte lyftyn onon,
Þat was ffrike to the fight & of fyne strenght,
And as lion on the laund launchit aboute.
Þat worthy was war of þe woo sone,
How Philmen the fre kyng was fongid in hond;
Sho macchit hir manly the Mirmydons to,
With hir maydnes of might, & of main strenght.
So þo wemen in wer welton doun the knightes,
Deyrit hom with dynttes, dryvon hom abacke,
Þat all fled hom for fere, ferd of hor dethe.
Pirrus þis prowes pertly beheld,
How his Mirmydons with might were mellit to ground:
Philmen the fre kyng, þat he in fyst hade,
He lete to þe large, lause of his hondes.
He criet on his knightes with a kene wille:—
“Ne shamys you not shalkes to shunt of þe fild,
ffor the weiknes of wemen woundis a litell!
Turnes yow full tyte, & taries a while,
Let vs wend to yon wemen, walt hom of horse;
With swyng of our swerdes swap hom in sonder,
And dyng hom to dethe for deyring of other.”
Pantasilia the pride of Pirrus ouer-herd;
Of his mote, & his manas, not mykell ho roght.
When he neighed hur negh, naitly ho said
Þes wordes to the wegh, þat he well herd:—
“I am not ferd of þi fare, ne þi fell speche,
Þof þi fadur with falshed, & with foule treason,
Honerable Ector egurly slogh:
Whose vilany to venge, & þe vile dede,
All the world shuld wilne, wemen & oder.
And we, þat in wer, wemen ye call,
Of oure dynttes dedly shall dele with you sone.”
Pyrrus wex pale at hir pure wordes,
And come with a course of his kene yre,
Þat doghty to dere with a dede stroke.
The womon was war of his wille sone,
And keppit hym full cantly: þai caupit to-gedur,
With þaire glaiues full grym, on the grene laund,
Þat Pirrus with pyne was putto þe erthe,
And his speire vntto sprottes sproungen on þe qwene.
He launchit vp lyuely, lacchit a swerd,
Bere to þat bold with a breme fare;
And ho keppit hym full kantly, kobbit with hym sore,
Woundit hym wickedly in hir wode angur,
Wold haue dongyn hym to dethe, hade þai delt long.
Þan þe Mirmydons, his men, mightely comyn,
Lepyn to þere lord, lugget hym away,
Halpe hym to horse in a hond qwhile,
Thurgh strenght of þat stoure, & of stithe fight.
Þan Agamynon the grete, with grekes ynow,
Dyomede drogh nere with a derfe pepull;
Antenor also auntrid to batell,
With a company clene of kyd men of armys.
Phylmen þe freke, þat fuersly withtakon,
Þat passit fro Pirrus by the prise qwene,
Lut to þe lady, & of his lyff þanket,
Mony sithes for sothe, er he sese wold.
Þan he semblid his sorte on a sop holl,
And Pantasilia full pertly all hir prise maidnes,
Palidamas, the pert knight, þat put was to fote,
Was þrast þrough the þrong, & of þrepe past,
Horsit in hast, highit agayne,
With fuerse men in fight a full fell nowmber.
Eneas also with angardly mony,
Kyng Remys the Riche, with a roghe batell,
Thies hurlet on a hepe with a hard shoure.
Dynttes full dedly were delt hom among,
And mony freike vndurfote frunt of hor horse.
Pyrrus hym paynet to pyne of his fos,
And the wemen wightly walton doun þe grekes.
On (Glaycon), a gome, gird was to dethe
With Pirrus in prise, Polidamas brother,
Antenor avne sun, aldist but he,
Gettyn in his gamyn on a gay lady.
Pantasilia presit Pirrus full fast,
And the freike hym defendit with a fyne chere.
So burly þo big brusshit to-gedur,
Þat backe to þe bent borne were þai aither;
Stithly þai start vp, strekyn to-gedur
Tyll the prese of the pepull partid hom sonder.
Polydamas, for payne of his pure broder,
Gird doun the grekes, and myche grem did:
With woundes full wide walt hom of horse,
And wondurfully wroght to wreke of his grem.
Thurgh helpe of his hond, & the hede qwene,
The grekes of þe ground were gird to þe flight:
Þai folowet fast on þe fare, with hor fell dynttes
Dang hom to dethe, & deiret hom mekill.
Pirrus, with pyne, and the proud Thelamon,
Dyamede the doughty, dernly with-stode,
Gert the grekes with greme on the ground stad,
Þat fled were before, & the fild leuyt.
Þan the sun wentto set, seset the fyght,
Aither halfe to þere hold highet onone,—
Bothe to toun & to tent,—taried no lengur;
ffor the derke vp drogh, and the day endit.

HERE THAY FAGHT A MONETHE

Than a moneth with might þai met in the fild,
With strokes full stith starf mony knightes.
With-in tyme of þis toile, tellis the story,
Ten thawsaund by tale were tirnyt to ground,
In batell on bothe haluys, þat on bent lay;
And mony of hir maidnes missit the qwene,
Þat were lost on the laund or þat laike endit.
Aftur a moneth & more, on a myld day,
Bothe the batels to bent bounet full swithe:
Restorit full stithly opon strong wise,
Shot into sheltrons shoggond full þicke.
Kene was the crie with crusshyng of weppyn:
Stedes doun sticked, stith men vnder!
Pantasilia & Pirrus presit to-gedur,
With dynttes full dedly in hor depe hate.
The roddis all to-Roose right to þaire hond,
And in hor sadles full sound setyn þai still.
But a trunchon of a tre with a triet hede,
Abode in the body of the bold Pirrus.
Þan the crie wex kene for care of þe grekes:
Mony preset with pyne to the pert qwene,
To dere hir with dethe for dole of his hurt.
Þai frusshet hir so felly with hor fyne swerdes,
Þat þe haspis of hir helme hurlit in sonder.

THE DETH OF PANTASILIA BY PYRRUS

Than Pirrus with payne, in his pale angur,
ffor all the trunchyn of þe tre, þat tenit hym sore,
Noght hedit his harme, ne his hurt meuyt,
And meuyt with malis to þe myld qwene.
Sho was bare of hir breast to þe bright mayll,
Hade no helme on hir hede fro harmys to weire;
Yet sadly ho sete, sewit hym agayne,
Thoght the freike with a fouchon first for to strike.
But Pirrus hym paynet with all hys pure strenght,
And flang at hir felly with a fyne swerd;
Share of þe sheld at a shyre corner;
Vnioynet the Jawmbe of þe iust arme,
Þat hit light on þe laund lythet full euyn:
Þen deghit þat doghty, dolle to be-hold,
ffell of hir fole to þe flat erthe!
And Pirrus with payn puld of his brest,
The spyll of his speire, in a space short:
Myche blode of his body bosshet out after,
And he gird to þe ground gronond full sore,
Halfe dede of þat dynt drogh into swone!
The Mirmydons mightely þere maistur þan toke,
With the shalke on a sheld shoke to his tent;
As a lede out of lyue laid hym to ground,
With weping and wo for his wale harme.
The maidnes of þe mighty qwene masit were all,
ffor the dole & the dethe of hor dere lady.
Thai afforset hom felly with hor fyn might,
The vilany to venge of þe vile grekes.
Þai mellit with the mirmydons, þat maisturles were,
Put hom doun prestly, pallit hom þurgh,
Slogh hom full sleghly for sleght þat þai couthe,
And other grekes, in hor greme, gird to þe deth:
Two thawsaund, full þroly, þai þrang out of lyue,
So fuersly þai fore in hor fell Ire,
ffor the losse of hor lady, þat hom lede shuld.
But what fortherit the fight of þo fell maidyns,
Syn the grekes on hom gedrit in so gret nowmbers?
There murtherit were mony of the mayn troiens:
All the bent of þat birr blody beronnen.
As Dares of the dede duly me tellus,
X. M.nd, full proly, in the þrepe endit.
Þan flagh all in fere, & the feld leuyt;
Turnyt vnto toune with tene at þere hert.
All the worthy þere were, wemen & other,
The yates with yomeryng ȝepely þai stake,
Barrit hom full bigly on hor best wyse,
Neuer in purpos with prise to pas at hom efte,
To no batell on bent, but the burgh kepe.