University of Virginia Library

[OMITTED] That mony hardie knycht of gret renoun
Into þe feild war slane and strikin doun.
The fecht was ferce and fell, þe stour was gret,
Thay war sa vext with pulder and with het;
And as þai stude almost confusit thus,
Sa com fleand ane dragon meruelus,
And straik vpoun þe Prince of Armene,
Quhilk slew sic multitud of his menȝe.
He schane as gold, his fethram was sa fair,
And euir he flaw abone þame in þe air,
And on þair battell straik on euirie syde,
That þair was nane his dintis durst abyde;
The king of þis in hart was wounder proud,
Avant his baner and cryit his senȝe loud,
And euir þe dragon derflie couth þame deir.
It was na mede to fecht with sworde and speir—
Scho schot sic flauchtis of fyre, baith ferce and fell,
Lyke as ane feynd haid fleand cum fra hell,
That þair was neuir man couth mak debate,
Bot fast þai fled, ilkane a syndrie gate.
King Philip saw, and followit on þe chase,
And þis his cuntre haill he conquest hes.
Quhan he haid put his land in gouernance,
And maid his officiaris and his ordinance,
He passit hame agane in his cuntre,
And left þat neidfull was of his menȝe.
And quhan he till his palace cumin was,
He mett his spous, þe Quene Olimpeas:
Sche kissit him, said, “Welcum mot ȝe be!”,
And he beheld so gret with child was sche:
“Olimpeas,” he said, “quhat may þis mene?
I weind ane rycht gude woman ȝe haid bene—
Bot neuir-þeles I ken rycht weill þe case.”
With þat began to greit Olimpeas;
“Lat be,” he said; “þow sall be wite nothing—
The goddis ar mair maister þan þe king.”