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But in prouerbe hit is put with prise men of wit,
‘Who þat sweyres to be swike, he forsworne worthes.’
Thus the grete of the grekes grymly þai sware
ffast pes to afferme, & flit of the londe.
Priam on his part, & his prise knightes,
Sweryn all swiftly, & no swyke thoghtyn:
So wend he full wele, þo worthy kyngis all
Hade no malis in mynd, ment at the tyme.
Þan honerable Elan þat abill deliuert,
Comendyng þat clere all with cloise wordes,
Prayng the prise men with [his] pure hert,
Þat no harmys þat hend shuld haue of hir lord.
Thai heght hym full hyndly his hestes to kepe,
And his desyre for to do, þo dukes ychon.
The grekes for-gete noght of the grete trayne,
Prayd to Priam for a gret vow,
ffor to hale in a horse hastely of bras,
Palades to ples with, er þai passe furth,
And at Myners mayn temple make hit to stonnd.
This couet þo kynges, & the cause made
ffor the palladian thai pullit of þe pure temple,
Þat þai Sayle might in sound, & hor sute hoole,
Lest the goddes in greme gert hom to lose
Bothe hor flete & hor folke with a felle storme.
Priam, at þis prayer, aperit not sone,
Ne grauntid not the grekes þat the gret ȝernet.
Eneas þan ertid Egurly fast,
And Antenor also, the abill kyng to:—
“Hit is due to be done, & doutles,” þai saide,
“The sight is full solemne, the Cité to haue
Ay lastond to long, þat ledis may knowe
Þat soche acord was here knyt with kynges for euer.”
The kyng affirmet the faitours, & no fraud thoght;
Þaire dessire for to do demyt onone.
Þan payet kyng Priam all the pure sowmes
Of gold, & of gay syluer, & of goode whete:
All þai shot into ship on þe shire water,
And made hom Redy to Rode on þe rough ythes.
All the grekes hom gedrit, the grettist & other,
With Sacrifice solemne, synging of prestys:
With profession & prise puld furth the horse
To a Side of the Cité, and set at þe yate.
Hit was so borly of brede, & of brem heght,
There was no entre with ease abill þerfore:
Þan the warpit downe the walle, & the wale toure,
Bothe obreade & aboue brekyn the yates,
Tyll hit might entur at ease, euyn as hom list.
Þan þe Citasyns, with song & solemnete grete,
Halit furth the horse to þe hegh temple.
Hit is said oftsythes with sere men of elde,
The last Ioy of ioly men Ioynys with sorow.
Thies buernes of the burgh blyndit were euyll,
Þai halit in no horse, but hor hard deth,
Oppression and payne, pyté for euer;
And ay lastond lure for lakkyng of wit!

One Symon, a sure mon, assignet was þe key,
Þat was of gouernaunse graith, by the grekes all,
To warp up a wicket, & waite on the tyme,
And the durres to vndo of the dregh horse.
But se first the Cité were on slepe fallyn,
And broght into bed, as hom best lyked:
Þan the ffreike shuld frusshe out, & a fyre make,
And light vp a low with a light wille,
Þat the ost might haue entre euyn as hom liked.
And the bettur in the burgh bale for to wirke,
The same day, sothely, the Cité was takon,
To Priam, the prise kyng, thai puruait a message,
Said hom-seluyn wold saile samyn fro troy,
And turne vnto tenydoun, & tary þere a qwyle,
Preuely the pert qwene by purpos to take,
ffor clamur & crie of the comyn folke:—
The murmur was mykell of þe mayn pepull,
Lest þai dang hir to dethe in hor dull hate.
Hit plesit well Priam þat purpos to hold,
ffor he hedit no harme, ne no hate thoght;
To þe gawdes of the grekes gefe he no kepe,
But all semyt hym full sothe the sawe of þe kynges.
Þan the grekes by agrement gird into shippe;
With proses and pres puld vp þere ancres;
Launchit fro the laund to the low sea;
And fayne were the freikes of þe faire towne.
Þai turnet vne to tenydon, & tariet all þere,
Before the settyng of the sun, says me the lyne,
With melody, & myrthe, & myche lowde songe,
And there taried on the town till hom tyme thoght.
When the day ouerdrogh, & the derke rose,
All bownet hom bigly in hor bright wedis
With Silens full soberly,—was no soune herd,—
And soghtyn furth to the Cité on a sop hole.
This Symon, for-sothe, I said you before,
Þat hade the keyes to kepe of þe cloise horse,
When the buernes of the burgh were broght vpon slepe,
He warpit vp a wicket, wan hom with-oute,
Light vp a low, the ledis might know.
Þan gedryt the grekes to þe graith tokyn,
ffrushet in felly at the faire yates,
Þat brokyn was on brede for the bright horse.
The knightes in the closet comyn out swithe;
Settyn into the Cité all the sad grekes;
Brentyn and betyn doun all the big houses;
The pepull with pyne puttyn to dethe;
Buernes in hor bednes britnet all naked,
Þat hedit no harme, ne no hate þoght.
Noght dred þai the dethe ne dere of hor fos:
Droghen vp durs, dungyn doun yatis;
Brekyn into bildynges, britnet the pepull;
Wemen & wale children walton to grounde:
Hade no pyté of the poure, put all to dethe;
Robbet þere Riches, reft hom hor lyues,
Gemmes, & Iewels, Iobbes of gold,
Pesis, & platis, polishit vessell,
Mony starond stone, stithest of vertue.
Twenty thowsaund, þroly, þai þrong to the dethe
Þat tyme in the toun, as the tale shewes!
The dyn & the dite was dole for to here,
Of men þat were murtheret at the meane tyme
Kyng Priam the pité persayuit onone,
The rewerd & the russhyng of þe ranke sorow
Of Eneas, þat egerly ertid his harme.
He russhit vp full radly, raght to his clothes,
Soche as happit hym to hent, hade he no wale:
He highit of his halle hard to the temple
There appollyne was onered, he etlid to bide:
With-outen hope of his heale heturly he weppit.

When the derke was done, & the day sprange,
The grekes by þere gydes of the great traytouris,
Entrid into ylion egerly fast:
No defence þai þere found in the faire place,
And dyden all to the dethe with-outen dyn more.
Pirrus to the prise temple preset full hard,
Of honerable Appollyne, as Antenor bade,
There, Priam the prise kyng prestly thai founde,
Abydyng his bone & his bale dethe.
Pirrus full prestly, with a prise swerd,
Brittoned the bold kyng & his blod shed,
Þat the stremys full stithly stert on þe auter.
On seand the same mon the souerayn betrayed,
Ecuba the honerable egerly flogh
With Pollexena the pert, hir prise doughter;
But þai wist not, I-wis, on no wise where
ffor to hide hom fro harme: þan happit hom to mete
The traytor with tene, vntristy Eneas.
Thies wordes þat worthy warpit hym to:—
“A! traytor vntrew, how toke þou on honde
Þat trew to be-tray, þat trist in þe euer,—
Thy lege & þi lord, þat the louet wele,
And myche good hase þe gyffen of his gold red?
Thou hase led to þi lord, þat hym lothe was,
His fomen full fele thurgh falshed of the;
And done hym to dethe dolefully now,
Þat thy-selfe shuld haue socourd, hade þou ben sad tru.
The burgh, there þou borne was, baillfully distroyet,
To se hit leme on a low, laithis not þi hert?
Ȝet haue pytie & compassion of this pure maidon;
Put hir in some place fro perisshyng of hondes,
Þat the grekes hir not get, ne to grem brynge,
Ne defoule hir vnfaire, & in filth holde!”
The wordes pricket hym with pité of þe prise qwene.
Pollexena, the pert he puld out of þrong,
Hid hir in a howle vnder a hegh towre,
And keppit hir full close, þat clere out of sight.
Telamon full tyte to the temple yode
Of Myner the mighty, with a mayn fare,
And drogh out Andromaca, þat in drede was,—
Worthy Ectors wife, & a wale maidon,—
Cassandra the clene, & keppit hom bothe.
And Menelay the mighty his myld qwene Elan,
ffro the pales he puld of the prise kyng,
ffull glad of þat gay, & of good chere,
As mery of þat myld as a mon thurt.
Þan the grekys full glad gyffon to red,
Ilion to ouerturne angardly sone,
And the bildynges bete doun to the bare erthe.
All the cité vnsakrely þai set vppon fyre,
With gret launchaund lowes into the light ayre;
Wroght vnder walles, walt hom to ground;
Grete palis of prise put into askys,
With flammes of fyre fuerse to behold;
And all the Cité vp soght to þe sad walles.
In the burgh þai forbere byldynges mony,
There as certain seignes were set vppolofte,
Of the traytor Antenor, & his tru fere,
Eneas also: anger hom betyde!

THE COUNSELL OF ÞE GREKES AFTER ÞE DYSTRUCTION OF THE TOWNE.

When the Cité was sesit & serchet to the last,
Agamynon the grekes gedrit to a counsell,
Into Miner mayn temple þo mighty bedene,
ffor to speke of hor spede in a space þere.
Þen fraynet the freke at þo fre kyngis,
Wethir þai couenand wold kepe to þe kene traiturs,
Þat betoke hom þe toun by treson to haue;
And þe gode, þat was getyn, graidly to part
Amonge men of might, þat most had disseruyt.
Þe onswar of all men was openly þis,
Euen the couenand to kepe, as þe cas was,
Þat betrat hom þe toun, & hor truth hold;
And þe ryches full ryf, þat robbet was þere,
To be delt to þe dughti vppon du wyse,
As þai sothly desseruyt with hor sad strenkith.
Aiax to Elayn was angardly wrothe,
Demyt hir to þe dethe with dole at þe tyme,
ffor þe worthy in were þat wastid were þurgh hir:
And mony kyng in þe case his counsell alowet.
Agamynon þe grete, and his gomys all,
With þe might of Menelay, & þaire men hole,
All þe here þat þai hade, with helpis of othir,
Were bysé fro bale deth þe burd for to saue;
ffor all þe cumpany clene were cast þer agayn.
But Vlixes, euermore egerly fast,
Declaret hom þe cause with his clere voyc,
Þat þe grete by agrement grauntid hir lyue.
Þe Emperour Agamynon angardly swith
Couet Cassandra, be cause of reward,—
Priams pure dughter, pertist of wit,—
And all grauntid þe grete with a gode will.
As þes kynges in counsell were comynyng to-gedur,
Eneas egerly, euyn with Antenor,
Put hym in prise & profferit to say:
Þe dede of Andromaca duli þai told,
And how Elynus egerly ertid þe lordis
To pursu for þe pes to þe pure grekis;
And how at praier of þat pure þe prise kyng Achilles,
Was grauntid to be grauyn, & gyuyn to his toumbe:
Þat worthi þai wilnet of wo to delyuer,
And grauntid þo grete with a glad chere.
Elynus egerly for Ectors childur
Praiet to þo prinses, and hor pure modur:
And þe lordis to þo litill þe lyuys han grauntid,
Namly Pirrus, þat purpost to put hom to deth,
Assentid to þat same with a sad graunt.
Þen ordant afterward þes honourable kynges,
Þat all þe worchipfull wemen of þe wale toune,
Þat left were on lyue, haue leue forto wend,
Lause at hor lykyng, no lede forto harme.
Þen purpost þai playnly to pas oute of land,
ffro troy forto turne, & tary no lengur;
But þe stormys were so stith, & stiryng of wyndis,
More þen a moneth myght þai not pas.
Þen come þai to Calcas þe cause forto wete,
Of þe wedur so wikkid, & þe wan stormys.
He said hom, forsothe, þe sayntis of hell
Were wode in hor werkis for wreke of Achilles;
Þat no dere for his deth was don ȝet ynogh,
ffor he with treson in þe temple vntruly was slayn.
“Ȝow most sle ffor þat same, ȝour sayntis to plese,
Þat was cause of his cumbranse, & keppit is on lyue.”
Þen Pirrus with pyne put hym to serche
Of Polexena þe pert, in priueté holdyn,
Þat was cause of þe cumbranse of his kynd fadur;
And nothir takyn þat tyme, ne tyrnyt to deth.
Agaminon full graidly gos to Antenor,
ffraynyt at hym frikly of þat fre mayden:
He denyet hym onon, þat noqwere he knew
Þat commly be keppet, ne in cloese haldyn.
Þen wrathid þo worthi for wont of þe burde,
And tenyt full tite for tarying so longe.
Antenor, after þis angur, persayuyt
Þat þe kynges ffor þat clere had caght hym in hate,
And þoght fully his faulshed folow to an end.
He besit hym barly þe burde forto seche,
Thurght þe cité hym-selfe, and ser men of hest,
ffele dayes bedene, or he þat dere fonde:
Till he aspiet hir with spit, by speryng of othir,
Doune in a dungion, don for to kepe,
A tyme for to tarie, of a toure olde.
Þe losell to þe lady launchid full swithe,
Braid hir out bigly bi þe bryght armys,
Present þat pert to þe prise kynges.
Agaminon þat gay gert forto send
To Pirrus þat presound, prestly onone;
And he cast hym þat coumly to cut into pesis,
ffull tite on þe toumbe of his tru fadur.
As this lady was led tell hir last end,
Kingis comyn cantly þat cumly to se.
Þe pupull had pité, & presit full þik
To se þat louely be lost, þat no lak did.
All þe folke were vnfayn, & of fyn will
To haue reft hir the rynke, for ruth þat þai had.
Hit hade doutles ben done, and hire deth voidid,
Had not Calcas þe cursit carpit before,
Þat neuer þo lordis to hor londis lyuely shuld wyn,
Till ho duly were ded & dressit in pesis.
When þis burd was broght to þe bare toumb,
Ho askewsit hir of skath, & sklaundur of his deth;
Þat neuer ho wist of þe werke, ne in will þoght
Þat þe dughti shuld degh, till hit don was.
Þe kyngis and þe comyns had care at þaire hertes,
To se þat fre be fforfaryn, þat no faut did:
All þai sparit þat speciall to spill at þe tyme,
To periche þat pure pité þai had;
But ho doutid no deth in [hir] du ryght,
ffor hit laithit hir les þen on lyue be.
Syn ho borne was a burd of a blod nobill,
Comyn of a kyng & a clene maydyn,
Hir was leuer in hir lond out of lyue pas,
Þen be defoulit in filth with febill of astate;
Or be led of hire lond with a lede straunge;
Set vndur seruage and sorow for euer,
With þe fose of hir fadur, & hir fre kyn,
And hir brethir had britnet, & broght vnto end.
“Me is leuer,” quod þat louely, “in my lond degh,
Þen be exild for euermore, erdond in sorow;
In othir prouyns & pertis pouert to suffer;
In þronge and in þraldom þrepe with þe werld.
Þerfore welcum, I-wis, is my wale deth!
My maydynhed I merk to myghtifull goddis:
Accepte hit as sacrifise, & my saule to!
Þis holly with hert here I beseke!”
When þe lady had leuyt of hir loud speche,
Pirrus with a pale sword presit hir to;
Britnet þe burde brightest on lyue,
At þe tumbe full tit of his triet fadur;
Gyrd hir in gobettis & on his graue cast.
Hire blod all aboute aboue hit was sched,
And strawet in þe strete strenklit full þik.
Honourable Ecuba, þat was hir aune modur,
Segh hir doghtur with dol be delt into peses:
Scho welt into wodnes, & hir wit leuyt,
And ran furthe rauis ruthe to beholde.
Scho bete hom bitturly with hir bare teth,
And with stonys in þe strete strok hom to ground;
Þis lif scho lad lelly þat day,
And myche gremyt þe grekes in hir grete angur.
Þai toke hire full tit, and teghit hir hondis,
Send hir sone by soume of hire men,
Into the Ile of Aulida angardly swythe;
And stithly with stonys steynyt hir to dethe.
The grekes for the grete graithet a toumbe,
Of a heght þat was hoge, all of harde marble;
And broght hir to berenes, as hom best þoght.
In mynd of þat mighty, to myn hit for euer,
The plase all of penaunce, the pepull hit calles,
The lede in hor langage, þat lengys þerin,
Duly to this day, as demys the boke.