University of Virginia Library

Howe Achilles enterde the Ille of Messay, where Teutram was kynge, whom Achilles gave his dethes wounde. And howe Teutram resyngnede his kingdam to Thelaphus, for the affeccyon that he had to Archules, which was his Fadere, and of olde tyme made him kynge of þat Ille.

Þe whiche kyng wil no more soiourne
In þis mater delayes for to make,
But in al hast he hath his counseil take
Of his lordis, beyng þo present,
And swyche as wer nat, he haþ after sent
For oon & alle: erlis, dukis, kynges,
And seid[e], “sirs, amongis oþer þinges
To our Iourne þat be necessarie,
My counseil is, no lenger þat we tarie,
But first of al to maken ordinaunce,
By oon assent, with prudent purvyaunce,
Þat aldirfirste we schape for vitaille,
With-oute whiche noon host may availle
To parforme a Iourne þriftely.
Wherfor I rede, here but fast[e] by,
Ȝif it to ȝow be likyng and plesaunce,
In-to an Ile ful of habondaunce,
Callid Messa, þat we sende anoon.”
And, at a worde, assentid euerychon.
Þei chosen han worþi Achilles
And Thelefus, þe sone of Hercules,
To execute þis purpos fynally,
Wiþ many worþi in her company
I-chosen oute þoruȝ þe hoste anoon
Wiþ Achilles to Messa for to gon.
In whiche lond, riche and plenteuous,
Regned a kyng, worþi and famous,
Þat Teutran hiȝt; whiche in tranquillite,
With-oute werre or aduersite,
Had holde his septer & his royal sete
In þis Ile, so plesaunt and so mete—
Al-be þat some sein þis litel Ile
To þe kyngdam longeth of Cecile,
And hath his name ȝouen of plente,
After Messane, an huge gret cite,
Ful plenteuous, boþe on se and lond.
Þe whiche kyngdam, as I vndirstonde,
Is seide Messana, of Messes in latyn,
Þoruȝ habondaunce of frut, corn, & wyn,
At tharyuaille on her pleyn[e]s large,
Wher þei ar wont [for] to stuf and charge
Marchaunt schippes of straunge fer contre,
Þat þider saile by þe large se
To fecche vitaille, ay fro ȝer to ȝer,
Fro many cost of londis fer and ner,
Only beschaunge of oþer marchaundyse.
And eke also, as bokis can deuise,
And as Guydo [ful] pleinly telleth vs,
Þat of a kyng, callid Messanus,
Þis contre first of Messa toke þe name,
Þat in his tyme was of ful gret fame,
Passyng riche and wonder plenteuous.
But of al þis, Dares Frigius
In his boke makeþ no mencioun,
But schortly telleth, in conclusioun,
How Achilles, and Thelefus also,
To Messana ben to-gidre go
With þre þousand of Grekis chosen oute,
Most manly men amongis al her route.
Þe whiche as fast as þei gan to londe,
And þe kyng gan to vndirstonde
Of her comyng, [he] is descendid doun
With alle þe worþi of his regioun,
On hors and fote, in stel armyd briȝt,
Ageyn[e]s Grekis manfully to fiȝt,
Hem to deuoide, pleinly, ȝif he can.
And sodeinly þus þe skarmus gan
Atwixe Grekis and her mortal foon,
On ouþer part þat þer was many oon
Slayn and hurt, & to þe deþ y-woundid,
Euere vnlikly þer-of to be soundid;
For oþer trete was noon hem betwene,
But swerdis scharp & speris square & kene:
Now here, now þere, þat þei go to gronde;
For euery man his fo for to confounde
His labour dide & his besynes.
And þouȝ Grekis, þoruȝ her worþines,
Had on her foon moche londe I-wonne,
Ȝit to resort after þei begonne;
And merveil noon, be-cause þat her foon
Hadde alwey þre in noumbre ageyn[e]s on—
For þe tyme it may noon oþer be—
Til Achilles gan be-holde and se
Þe mortal slauȝter vp-on Grekis side,
Turnyng þe bak, with woundis large & wyde;
Of hasty rancour chaunge gan his blood,
And for Ire furious and wood,
Whan he be-hilde his men lese her lond,
He with þe swerde þat he hilde in his hond
Made weie, killeth, and bare doun;
And in þe felde like a ferse lyoun
He ferde in soth, whan his men wer slaw,
Makyng his foon bakward to withdraw,
And his Grekis so manly recounforte,
Þat maugre hem he made hem to resorte.
And who þat euere in his weye stood,
With-oute mercy he kylleþ in his mood,
Þat geyneþ nat in his cruelte;
For dout[e]les, nadde his manhod be,
His passyng renoun and his worþines,
His knyȝthod eke, and his hiȝe prowes,
Þe Grekis had þat day finally
Venquissched be, with-oute remedie;
But þoruȝ his helpe þei recuren al:
For Achilles, sturdy as a wal,
Gan cerche scheltrouns & her rengis brake,
To-fore whos face his fomen go to wrake.
And aldirlast, whan he gan espie
Teutran þe kyng, þoruȝ his chiualrie
Diffende hym silf lik a worþi knyȝt,
And as a lioun bern hym in his fiȝt,
Now her, now þer, Grekis so oppresse—
Þis Achilles, of cruel hardynesse,
Nolde cesse in his pursewyng
Þoruȝ þe wardis, til he cam to þe kyng,
Of manly force, stout, & ful of pride,
Makyng a weye rounde on euery syde,
Ageyn whos myȝt no þing myȝt availe.
And of Teutran first þe aventaile
He raced haþe, & rent þe mail a-sonder,
And al to-hewe—þat it was a wonder
To considre þat day his cruelte.
And after þat, al to-broke hath he
His basenet, with many cruel wounde,
Of verray myȝt smet þe kyng to grounde;
And in al haste he maked hath no let,
Of his hed to rende his basenet,
And merciles for to do vengaunce,
His arme he gan on heiȝte to avaunce,
Fully in purpos þat he schal be ded,
And raunsomles gan amyn at his hed
With blody swerde, & dispitous herte,
Castyng pleinly he schal hym nat asterte—
In his Ire he was so furious.
But of fortune it be-fil riȝt þus,
Þat Thelephus, þe ȝong[e], lusty knyȝt,
Casuely þer-of had a syȝt,
And of Achille þe maner ful behilde:
Þe stroke anoon he bare vp with his schelde,
And gan Achilles mekely for to preye
To han pite so to done hym deye,
Sith he lay wonded almost to þe deth,
Brouȝt to þe point to ȝelden vp þe breth,
Beseching hym, for his benignite,
Of manly rouþe & knyȝtly eke pite,
With-drawe his hond & to don hym grace,
And graunt hym lyf for a litel space:
“Sith euery knyȝt schulde of gentilles
His enmy spare, whan he is in distres,
To outtraunce brouȝt, & specialy whan he
Mercy requiriþ of humble volunte.”
To whom Achille, feruent in his Ire,
As he þat was of rancour set a-fyre,
Answerde ageyn: “what list þe so to praye
For hym þat nolde of pride our wyl obeye,
But folily, of vngoodlyhede,
Gan a werre, where as was no nede,
Of disdeyn and indignacioun,
Havynge a trust of presumpcion
In his manhod, whiche myȝt him nat avaylle
Ageyn[e]s Grekis to holden a bataille,
As it is preuid pleynly in þe ende,
Al oþer-wyse schortly þan he wende.
For in þe dyche iustly he is falle,
Whiche he made of malis for vs alle,
Wher we of wil nor entencioun
Ȝaf vn-to hym noon occasioun,
Vp-on no syde, platly, fer nor ner,
Nor mynystrede to hym no mater,
Nor to his londe mente no damage—
But hym silfe, grounde of al þis rage—
With-oute offence don to hym of vs.”
And efte ageyn ȝonge Thelephus
Humblely requerid of Achille,
Of knyȝtly rouȝþe his axyng to fulfille,
And to han mercy on hym in þis caas.
“For with my fader þis kyng whilom was,”
Quod Thelefus, “be bond confederat,
Whiche lithe now here al disconsolat,
Exspectaunt only, with a dedly face,
Vp-on þe hour whan his gost schal pace,
Þoruȝ-girt, allas! with many mortal wounde;
And for cause I haue in hym founde
A-fore þis tyme ful gret kyndenes—
For of manhod and of gentilles,
In þe boundis of his regioun
He vn-to me, þoruȝ his hiȝe renoun,
Whilom as I casuely gan ride,
Schewed in soþe, vp-on euery side,
Ful ryal chere and gret humanyte,
Þat I am bounde of verray du[e]te
To remembre & to han in mynde;
And dout[e]les, ellis I were vnkynde,
Which after wolde my name foule atwite,
And for þat I parcel wolde hym quyte,
I ȝou beseche of respit of his lif.”
And Achilles, with-outen any stryf,
Delyuered hath, þe story telleth þus,
Teutran frely vn-to Thelefus,
Wheþer hym list to sauen or to spille.
And whan þat he hadde hym at his wille,
He considrede by hys woundis grene,
Þat were so mortal, sothly, & so kene,
Of verray nede þat he muste dye—
Þer was no geyn nor no remedye,
Nor availle may no medycyne.
Þe hour whan Phebus westward gan declyne,
And þe bataille brouȝt was to an ende,
While þe Grekis to her schippes wende,
Þe mene whyle, Teutran for þe peyne
Of his woundis gan more & more compleyne,
With-oute staunche so pitously þei blede:
His officeris fast[e] gan hem spede,
In a liter, maked ful ryal,
Toward his paleis & dongoun principal
To carien hym softe and esely;
And at his prayer, ful benignely,
Thelefus and also Achilles
Conveied hym amongis al þe pres,
Til he was brouȝt þer as him list to be;
And þei reseyuid, like to his degre,
[Ful] Ryally þe kyng, ay languysschinge,
As he þat drowe toward his endynge,
And myȝt[e] nat lenger drawe alengþe
His woful lif, so weyk was [he] of strengþe,
Þat his spirit muste algatis wende.
And he in haste made for to sende
For Achilles and for Thelefus;
And whan þei cam, he seide [vn-]to hem þus:
“Sirs,” quod he, “ful worþi of degre,
Helpe and honour with longe prosperite
Be vn-to ȝow, and good auenture
Al þe while [þat] ȝour lif may dure;
And specially to þe, o Thelephus,
Whiche hast to me ben so gracious,
Of gentilles, in my peynes stronge,
Only of grace my lif for to prolonge—
But deth, allas! I may nat nowe eschewe,
Nor his swerde on no parte remewe,
With-oute recur knyt in bitter bondis,
Vp-on þe brinke falle of Fatis hondis,
Of my lif al fully in dispeir,
Whiche of my body neuer myȝt haue eyr
After my day, by successioun,
To gouerne þis litel regioun,
Whiche like[ly] is to stonde dissolat
Of gouernaunce, and disconsolat,
Whiche þat I wan with ful gret trauaille;
And to þis day, with werre and bataille,
I haue it kept, as ȝe wel knowe echon,
And defendid from alle maner foon,
With-oute loos, ȝeris her-to-forne.
But recurles of ȝore I hadde it lorne,
Ne had I had helpe and eke socour
Of Hercules, þe grete conquerour,
Þat whilom was fader of Thelephus—
So strong, so myȝti, and so chiualrous—
Be whos manhod & whos hardynes,
Be his knyȝthod and gret worþines,
Whiche day be day is newe of memorie,
Of al my foon I hadde þe victorie:
He daunted hem and made hem so a-ferde,
Only by rigour of his scharp[e] swerde,
Þat finally, þoruȝ his manlihede
He made me þis regne to possede,
Maugre her myȝt, in pes and in quiete,
With septre and crowne in my royal sete,
Þat noon of hem, til þat he was ded,
Hardy was to lyften vp þe hed
Ageyn[e]s me, to speke in wordis fewe.”
Wher-by I may fully declare and schewe
By euydence, þat þis litel Ile
Is pertynent and longeth to Secile,
Wher Hercules for a memorial
Sette pilers in his conquest royal,
Whan he had ride and go so fere,
And of Columpna ȝit þe name bere,
After hym callid Herculea—
Þouȝ somme seyn þei hote Herracula,
Þe name chaungyng by corrupcioun.
Þe whiche londe was whilom mansioun
To þe peple of wilde Barbarie;
Þe whiche kyngdam for to magnifie,
Frederik, sothly, þe secunde,
Of gold and good passyngly habounde,
Þat chose was to ben Emperour
Of Rome toun, and myȝti gouernour,
And whilom eke was kyng of Secile—
Whiche made reise in þat large Ile
A myȝti tour, hiȝe and þikke of wal,
As seyth Guydo, for a memorial
To putte his name longe in remembraunce;
And for þe soil was to his plesaunce,
With floures fresche of many sondry hewe,
In somme bokis þe lond was namyd newe
And I-called, as I vndirstonde,
For his fairnes, “þe lusty newe lond.”
But Teutran ay lyggyng in his peyne,
As he þat fast[e] gan þe hour atteyne
Of cruel deth, a-forn his lordis alle
He made in haste Thelefus to calle
To his presence, and with a mortal chere
Seide openly, þat alle myȝten here:
“My sone,” quod he, “now þat I schal passe
Out of þis worlde—for geyn[e] may no grace
My lif to saue, þoruȝ no mannys myȝt—
But for be-cause of equite and riȝt
I am compelled, iustly in sentence,
To declare clerly my conscience
To-fore my deth, heryng al þis pres—
Þis to seyn, þi fader Hercules,
Þe wyse worþi, and þat knyȝtly man,
Whilom þis lond þoruȝ his conquest wan;
Þe whiche only of his goodlyhede,
As he þat was þe stok of manlyhede,
Toke vn-to me, by commyssioun,
Þe gouernaunce of þis regioun,
Of his fre wille, with hool þe regallye,
And nolde hym silf þe crowne occupie;
And sothly, ȝit his riȝt was nat þe lasse.
For loue of whom, now þat I schal passe,
With al thentent of my laste wil,
To þe I graunte, as it is riȝt and skil,
As verray eyer iustly to succede,
Longe in honour þer þi lif to lede,
Makynge here a protestacioun,
Þat in ful tokene of confirmacioun
Þis is þe wil, finally, of myn herte,
Fro þe whiche no man may diuerte
Vp-on no side, nor outterly declyne.
For first my wil and discent of lyne
Ben to-gidre combyned now in oon,
Fro whiche þing no mortal man may gon:
For þis desire, last of my langour,
Þat þou playnly be my successour;
And finally, þus I conclude and deme,
Þat vn-to þe septre and dyademe
Deliuered be, wiþ euery circumstaunce.”
But al his wil, for more assuraunce,
He made write in his testament,
Þe fyn concludyng of his last entent.
And after þat, he ful pitously
Telephus besouȝt[e] hertely,
Of manly rouþe & knyȝtly gentilles
To done his deuer and his besynes,
After his deth, liche his estat royal,
To halwe and holde þe feste funeral
Solempnely, and þe exequies do.
And sodeynly, with-oute wordis mo,
Þe kyng Teutran ȝeldeþ vp þe gost,
And went his wey, I not in-to what cost—
I can nat deme of swiche mystyhede.
And whan Parchas broken han þe þred
On þe rokke, and he was forþe his way,
Þan Telefus, out of marbil gray
Coriously a tombe made kerue,
Þe dede cors þer-in to conserue
Ful richely; and a-boue þe graue
An Epithaphie anoon he dide graue,
In his honour pleinly to expresse
His knyȝthod boþe, and [his] worþines,
And how his gost & he wer deuocid—
Wiþ lettris riche of gold aboue enbocid
Rounde aboute wonder corious,
On his tombe, þat seide pleinly þus: