University of Virginia Library

Howe Kynge Agamenoun and alle the princes of Grece reioyssede the dethe of worthy Ectore, and howe thay sent to Kenge Priamus for to have a trews of two monethes, whil Achilles were made hole of his woundys, and other princes.

Hector þus ded, as ȝe han herd me seid,
And Achilles in his tent I-leied,
With his woundis mortal, freshe, & grene,
Vp-on a morwe, whan þe sonne shene
Enchasid had a-way þe dirke nyȝt,
Agamenoun, þe wyse worþi knyȝt,
In his werkis passingly prudent,
Hath in al haste for his lordis sent;
And whan þei wern assemblid euerychon
With-Inne his tent, to hem he seid anoon:
“Sirs,” quod he, “and lordis þat ben here,
Kynges, princes, and dukis eke yfere,
Ȝif ȝe aduerte by clere inspectioun,
Ȝe owe echon with hiȝe deuocioun,
Hooly of herte oure goddis for to herye,
And inwardly for to be riȝt merye,
Ȝif ȝe considre and wysly taken hed
Þat oure enmy Hector is now ded,
Þat whilom was berer-vp of Troye,
Her ful[le] trust, her honour and her Ioye,
Her hool diffence and protectioun,
And vn-to vs deth and confusioun—
Vnlikly euere vs to han had victorie
Whiles þat he floured in his glorie,
Ageyn whos swerd we myȝt[e] not availe.
For slowe he not at oure aryvaile,
Ȝif ȝe remembre, on þe firste day
Þe noble kyng callyd Protheselay?
And after next, ȝif I shal nat feyne,
Patroclus he parted euene on tweyne
In þe felde amonge vs euerychon:
Slowe he nat [eke] þe worþi kyng Menoun,
Archilagus, and also Prothenor,
And eke þe kyng þat hiȝt[e] Alphinor,
Phillis also, and Epistrophus?
And to his ende he brouȝt[e] Ȝantipus;
And Meryon, þe myȝti stronge kyng,
In his weie as he cam ridynge
He slay[e]n hath, and oþer kynges two,
Cedius and Drodius,—also
Polycenes and stronge Polybete,
Letaboma, and þe kyng Philete,
Þe manly knyȝt, þe kyng Isydius,
And eke þe kyng þat hiȝt[e] Hvmerus:
For in his Ire and his cruel tene,
Of worþi kynges he slayn hath eiȝtene,
Whiche hider cam oute of Grekes lond,
By þe power of his myȝti hond.
Now laude and honour to þe goddis alle,
Whiche causid han þat it is be-falle
Þat he is ded, to oure encres of Ioie,
And to discres of oure foon in Troye,
As þei shal fynde in experience,
And laude also, pris, and reuerence
Be to Fortune þat vs hath holp[e] wele
With þe turnynge of hir double whele,
To hiȝe comfort and consolacioun
Of vs echon sittynge inviroun,
Þat stande now in parfit sikernes
Þoruȝ deth of hym þat dide vs so oppresse.
And what may þei now waiten of þe toun
But after deth and destructioun,
And hastily for to ende in wo,
Now þat her trust, Hector, is a-go,
With-oute whom þei may not long endure.
Wherfore we may fully vs assure
Oure purpos hool þat we shal acheve,
And finally daunte hem so and greve
Þat vn-to hem it shal be importable,
Of oon assent ȝif we stonde stable:
For her party turneth on þe wrak,
And her hope is fully put a-bak
And dispeired in noon-surete.
For outterly þei and her cyte
Shal mor & mor in were of deth depende;
And we, in soth, shal day be day amende,
With helpe of God, boþe on se and lond:
For now victorie is redy to oure hond,
Voide platly of ambiguyte,
And excludid, at eye as ȝe may se,
Boþe of wantrust & of foreyn drede.
But I counsaille, or þat we procede
Any ferþer vp-on oure foon to ryde,
Prudently a while to abide
And kepe vs clos for to passe oure boundis
Til Achilles be helid of his woundis,
And þan echon, be myȝty violence,
Oppresse hem, whan þei haue no diffence,
As I haue seide, þoruȝ helpe of Achilles.
And lat [vs] now sendyn for a pes
For two monþes to kyng Priamus,
Ȝif it so be he list to graunte it vs,
As it is likly, pleinly, þat he shal.
And þei þer-while with flawme funeral
Consvme may þe dede bodies pale
Þat lyen a-brod on euery hil and vale,
Whiche by report of hem þat han repeire,
Fro day to day infecten so þe eyre,
Þoruȝ þe feld engendringe pestilence,
Of stinke þer is so gret a violence;
And we þer-while may in ese and reste
Oure woundis cure, me semeþ for þe beste.”
And þei assent her-to euerychon.
And vn-to Troye þe messageres ar goon,
And han þe trewe graunted of þe kyng,
And be repeired, with-oute more tariyng,
And þer-of made ful relacioun
To þe Grekis a-fore Agamenoun.
And after þat, whan al was at an ende,
Home to his tent euery lord doth wende.

Howe Kynge Palamydes of newe laborde to haue Agamenoun deposyde of þe governance of þe Grekys.

And while þe trewe endureth & þe pes,
Amonge Grekis kyng Pallamydes
Compleineth sore of Agamenoun,
Þat he so hadde domynacioun
Aboue hem alle, havyng þer-at envie.
And on a day in his malencolie,
Of hiȝe despit and indignacioun,
Ful inly fret with Irous passioun,
He gan breke oute, & his rancour shewe
By certeyn signes, þouȝ he spak but fewe.
Til on a day wyse Agamenoun
Conceyued hath of hiȝe discrecioun
Hooly þis þing, þouȝt he nold[e] spare
From point to point him silve to declare,
Whan his lordis to-gidre were present,
To-forn hem alle in his owne tent,
As he þat was (þis noble worþi kynge)
Ful circumspect in euery maner þinge—
Nouȝt to racul nor malencolius,
But be atemperance inly vertuous,
Wel avised & wonderly prudent.
Whan þat he knewe þe menynge & þentent
And þe conceit of þis Pallamydes,
He nat to hasti nor to rek[e]les,
But longe abiding, þoruȝ prudence & resoun,
With-Inne þe boundis of discrecioun—
Whos tonge was only of sapience
So restreyned þat no necligence
Of hasti speche, sothly, for no rape
Miȝt make a word his lippes to eskape,
Vn-avised for no þing hym asterte,
But it were first examynd in his herte;
For ay his speche in so þrifty wyse
Conveied was, by doctrine of þe wyse,
Vnder þe rene of wit and hiȝe prudence.
And after þat, by forme of elloquence
Alweye so seide þat resoun went a-forn,
So þat no word was in his tale lorn.
And in þis wyse shewynge his sentence
To-forn alle in open audience,
Seide euene þus, whan þat al was pes,
Vn-to þe kyng callid Pallamydes:

How Agamenon ful worshipfully replyede agaynste the obieccyons of Palamydes, notwithstondynge he resyngned the Empire of þe Grekes to ther owne eleccyoun, as folowthe.

“Sothly,” quod he, “ȝif ȝe taken hede,
Me semeth, pleinly, [þat] it were no nede
—Avisely ȝif ȝe list aduerte—
To mvse so nor grucchen in ȝoure herte,
Of al þis hoste þat I haue gouernance—
Wisly considered euery circumstaunce,
How I þe-stat (whiche no man may denye)
Wolde in no maner never occupie
By oþer title þan fre elleccioun,
Nat interrupt by mediacioun
Of brocage, roted vp-on mede,
Ay vnder-meynt with fauour or falshede,
Depict with colour of trewe entencioun
To support swiche false ambicioun:—
Of whiche þing here I wil me quyte
To-fore ȝow alle, þat I am not to wyte
In any wyse of so hiȝe offence,
But stonde clere in my conscience,
With-oute spot of any swiche veyn-glorie
Touchinge þestat whiche is transitorie;
Ȝet neuer-þeles, I haue do my cure,
With al my wit to helpen & procure
Þat euery þing touching þe commovnte
Perseuere myȝt in prosperite,
Havyng þe eye of myn inward siȝt
Vn-to þe estat of euery maner wyȝt
Þat were committed to my gouernance,
With gret labour and besy attendaunce,
Indifferent vn-to hiȝe and lowe,
To helpe and fostre, wher I coude knowe
Þat any stood in meschef or in nede—
Day and nyȝt for to taken hede,
As I best koude, by avisenesse,
Ay dillygent þat nat felle in distresse.
For, sothfastly, who-so loke a-riȝt,
Mi daies þinkyng & my wache a-niȝt,
And of myn hert þinly aduertence,
With-oute fraude, slouth, or necligence,
Was feithfully, with al my ful[le] myȝt,
Me to aquyte to euery maner wiȝt
Liche his estat, with-oute excepcioun;
So þat no man iustly of resoun,
Greke nor oþer þat is now a-lyve,
Vn-to my gilt may dew[e]ly ascrive
Any falsehed, engyn, or trecherie
Of loue or hate, favour or flaterie,
In any cause named in special,
But þat I haue ben eliche egal
To oon and alle, with al my besy peyne,
Þat no man hath mater to compleyne
For his party, of hiȝe nor lowe estat.
And to deuoide al rancour and debat
Amongis ȝow, I haue do my dever
In general þing and particuler,
Þat her-toward no þing hath mescheued.
And, God wot wel, it shuld[e] nat agrevid
To my herte taset at any prys,
Ȝow tachose by ȝoure discret avis
Som oþer to þis domynacioun,
And I to haue ben in subieccioun
With ese of herte and tranquillite
Liche oþer lordis here of my degre,
And in my wil fully han obeied—
Like on of ȝow outterly to haue deyed
In þe quarel þat we han vndirtake,
Ȝif destine had it so y-shape,
I seie, in soth, me is ful loth to feyne.
And ouermore, also, wher ȝe pleyne
Þat I was chose with-oute ȝour assent,
Merueileþ nat, sith ȝe ne were present;
Nor longe after, ȝif ȝe remembre a-riȝt,
Toward Troye ȝour weie was nat diȝt—
Ȝif ȝe considre, it was after ner,
Or þat ȝe cam, passed ful two ȝer:
And so longe tabide ȝoure commynge,
It hadde ben to Grekis gret hyndrynge,
Passynge harme, and ful gret damage,
And huge lettynge vn-to oure viage.
For ȝif we had, with-outen any wene,
On ȝour comynge taried at Athene,
It likly is—ȝe can nat wel seie nay—
To haue be þere ȝit in-to þis day.
And where as ȝe, þouȝ it be nat credible,
Affermen eke for an impossible,
Þat Grekis shuld in any maner wyse
Dor take on hem any gret emprise
In ȝoure abscence manly to achewe,
It is but wynde, no þinge for to leue:
For so it be to ȝou noon offence,
Þe Grekis han, with-oute ȝoure presence,
Þoruȝ her force on water and on lond
Ful many þing parformed with her hond,
And acheved þoruȝ her worþines.
And of o þing þat in me ȝe gesse,
Þis to seyne, þat of my degre
I shulde in herte so reioisshe me
Of þis lordshipe and þis grete estat,
Þe more to be pompos and elat
In chere or port þat I it occupie—
But me to aquite trewly, & nat lye,
And to deuoide al suspecioun,
I wil make a resignacioun
To-fore ȝow alle, for to excuse me.
Now beth avised discretly for to se
Whom ȝe list han ageyn to-morwe prime,
With-oute settynge of any lenger tyme,
Prolonging forþe, or any more delay.”
And þus þei made an ende of þat day,
And went her weye only for þat nyȝt,
Til on þe morwe, þat Titan shadde his liȝt,
At whiche tyme a conseil general
Þe Grekis hilde; but moste in special
Of lordis was þer congregacioun,
As I haue tolde, for þe eleccioun.
And whan þei were al[le] met I-fere,
Agamenoun anoon, as ȝe shal here,
Seide evene þus, with sadde countenaunce:
“Lo, sirs,” quod he, “touchynge gouernaunce
Þat I haue had, and domynacioun,
I haue her-to with hool affeccioun
And clene entent do my besynes
Þat euery þing miȝt in welfulnes
To ȝoure encres perseueren and contvne,
Recorde I take of God and Fortune,
Whiche han conservid, & þe cause be
Ȝou for to floure in felicite,
Þat ȝoure honour and [ȝour] hiȝe noblesse
Stant hool and sounde ȝit in sikirnes.
And while ȝour fame is most in flouringe,
As semeth me, it is riȝt wel sittinge
Myne estat fully to resygne,
Specially while fortune is benygne;
For of so many þat be now present,
I am allone insufficient
With-oute helpe for to bere þe charge—
Men with to moche may ouer-lade a barge,
And nam[e]ly in tempest and in rage—
And sith ȝe bene so discret and sage,
Of my berþene late me be releued,
So þat no man þer-with be a-grevid;
But late vs alle of oon entencioun,
With-oute strife or dissencioun,
Chesen swiche oon þat be most acceptable
To ȝow echon, and most couenable,
Ȝow to gouerne by discressioun.”
And þei echon with hool affeccioun
Assentid ben. To speke in general,
Here men may se how it is natural
Men to delite in þing[e] þat is newe:
Þe trust of peple is feint and vntrewe,
Ay vndiscrete & ful of doubilnes,
And variable of hir sikernesse;
Ay awaitynge in her oppinioun
After chaunge and transmutacioun,
Selde or neuer stondyng hool in oon
—To-day þei loue, to-morwe it is gon—
In whom ful selde is any sikernes.
For only now of newfongilnes
Þat hath enbracid her affeccioun,
Þei haue in stede of Agamenoun
Of newe chose, only of fauour,
Pallamydes to ben her gouernour,
And of Grece, liche as þei desyre,
To haue þe septre of þe hool empire,
And to be called, [aboute] in euery cost,
Emperour of þe Grekis host,
Riȝt as to-forn was Agamenoun.
And þis was fyn and conclusioun
For þilke day of her parlement.
And after þat, euery man is went
To his loggynge, home þe riȝt[e] wey.

How Achylles grochyde Agayne the eleccyoun Of Pallamydes, concydred þe wysdam of Agamenoun.

But in his tent, wounded as he lay,
Þe hardy knyȝt, þe cruel Achilles,
Whan þat he herd of Pallamydes
Fro point to point, & of þe elleccioun,
He was displesed in his oppinioun,
And pleinly þouȝt, as to his avys,
Agamenoun was passingly more wys
And more discret vn-to gouernaunce
Þan þe toþer, as to his plesaunce,
And seide it was noon eleccioun,
But a maner subrogacioun,
Be-cause hym silfe in þe parlement
At þe chesyng was nat þere present;
Arrettinge it passing gret offence
Þat þe choys was made in his absence,
Wher-with he was of herte inly wroth.
But wher so be þat he be lef or loth,
Þer is no more; but in conclusioun,
In his strengþe stood þe eleccioun.

Howe Kynge Pryamus, with al the worthy of Troyans partye, kame to the felde in his owne parsone to revenge the dethe of worthy Ector, And that same day wrought mervaylis with his swerde.

The trews passid and y-werid oute,
Þe wounded eke recurid al a-boute,
Þe nexte morwe after, Priamus
In his herte was inly desirous
With þe Grekis manly for to fiȝt,
Hectoris deth tavengen ȝif he myȝt—
Þis olde Priam, knyȝtly in þe felde.
Þat whan Troyens in hem silf behilde
Þe grete wille and þe hiȝe corage
Of hym þat was so fer ronne in age,
Þei gan reioysshe & pluk vp her herte,
And specially whan þei gan aduerte
His grete manhod and his worþines,
His liflyhed and his hie prowes.
And for his sake euery maner man
Gan armyn hym in al þe hast þei can,
With Priamus þat day to lyve or deye.
And in-to þe felde þei proudly hym conveie
—An hundrid þousand & fyfty of þe toun,
Like as Dares maketh mencioun,
And worþi knyȝtes þei wern euerychon,
With-oute oþer þat with Priam goon—
And al to-forn went[e] Dephebus,
And Parys next, and þanne Priamus,
Menon þe kyng, and worþi Eneas,
And alderlast cam Pollydamas.
And, as I fynde, sterne & ful of pride,
Pallamydes cam on þe toþer side
In-to þe felde with many stronge bataille.
And first whan eche oþer gan assaille,
Kyng Priamus knyȝtly his weye ches
Þoruȝ þe wardis to Pallamydes,
And hym vnhorseth þoruȝ his hiȝe renoun;
And lyke a knyȝt he kylleþ & bereþ doun
Þe proude Grekis, where-so þat he rood—
Was noon so hardi þat his swerd abod:
For so narwe he gan hem to coharte,
Þat her wardis he made a-sondre parte,
On hem he was so fel and furious;
For he þat day dedis meruelous
In armys wrouȝt, þat wonder was to sene,
And a merueille how he may sustene,
Of so gret age, in þe felde tendure;
For incredible was, I ȝou ensure,
To sen how he, þoruȝ his grete myȝt,
Þe Grekis put proudly to þe fliȝt.
And Dephebus was also nat behynde
Ageyn his foon knyȝtly, as I fynde,
Taquite hym silfe, & make hem to go bak.
And Sarpedoun, in whom eke was no lak,
I-fallyn is on Neptolonius,
Þe proudest Greke, & most surquedous,
And most famus as of strengþe & myȝt;
Þe whiche ageynward rod ful lyn[e] riȝt
To Sarpedoun, with a spere rounde,
And deliuerly smot hym to þe grounde.
But Sarpedoun, ful Irous in his herte,
With-oute abode on his fet vp-sterte,
And Neptalonye, in his Ire al hoot,
Þoruȝ-out þe þiȝe with his swerd he smot.
And þanne anon þe kyng of Perce lond,
Þat was so worþi & famus of his hond,
Of Sarpedoun whan he taketh hede,
Knyȝtly to hym restorid hath his stede,
Nat-with-stondynge þat Menelaus
Was vp-on hym passinge dispitous,
And with hym eke þe duke of Athenes
Enclosid han amonge þe grete pres
Þe kyng of Perce—allas! it shulde falle!—
And slay[e]n hym, as he amonge hem alle
Ful knyȝtly fauȝt, like a champioun,
With multitude enclosid enviroun—
And he hym silf but allone, allas!
Al destitut in þis mortal cas.
Þoruȝ whos meschef þei of Troye toun
Gan to with-drawe; til þat Sarpedoun
Hath holpen hem to recure her lond,
Ful many Greke kyllyng with his hond.
And kyng Priam, so manly founde at al,
With his sonys called natural,
Which vp-on hym, wher-so þat he rood,
Þe longe day manfully abood,
Partyng nat, pleynly, fro his syde—
And as þe kyng and þei to-gidre ryde,
Ful mortally þe Grekis þei confounde;
For Priamus, with many cruel wounde,
Hath slayn of hem many worþi man,
On hors[e]-bak amonge hem as he ran:
For þer was noon þat day, ȝonge nor olde,
Of Troye toun so hardy nor so bolde,
Of noon estat, þat haþ so wel him quitte,
Amongis Grekis wher-so þat he ritte,
Fro point to point to rekne euery þinge,
As hath Priam, þe noble worþi kyng.
For he allone was confusioun
To þe Grekis, and destruccioun,
Her outter meschef and discounfeture,
A-fore whos face þei myȝt[e] not endure;
For þinges two, in his mortal Ire,
Inwardly setten hym a-fyre:
Þe hertly hate þat he bare of old
Vn-to Grekis, doublid many fold,
With þe deth, had in remembraunce,
Of worþi Hector, by contynuaunce,
Þe whiche, platly, þoruȝ his worþines,
With his swerd he shope hym to redresse.
For fret of hate & constreint of his peyne
Wer verraily þilke þinges tweyne
By whiche þat day, who-so loke a-riȝt,
His force was doublid, and his myȝt.
Where-þoruȝ he toke so cruel hiȝe vengaunce,
Þat he þe Grekis brouȝte to outtraunce,
And þoruȝ his knyȝthod put hem to þe fliȝt.
But Grekis þan attonys dide her myȝt,
By assent to assemblen in-to on;
And for a sleiȝte a-syden oute þei gon
In-to a plein, large & fair to se,
Betwene Priam and Troye þe cite,
To fyn only in her entencioun
Hym to debarre þe entre of þe toun:
For euery weie þe Grekis han with-set,
Þat þei of Troye hadde þo be let
At her repeire, þe stori telleþ þus,
Nadde þe manhod ben of Priamus,
Þe whiche anon, as eny lyoun stronge,
With his swerd gan riden hem amonge,
And seuered hem, with large woundis wyde,
And slowe al þo þat wold his swerd abide,
Euery-where, endelonge þe pleyn.
And Paris eke hath hem so be-leyn
With myȝti shot of his stronge archeris,
And with þe pursut of his arblasteris,
Þat þei ne myȝt of þe shot so kene
Þe mortal harme abide nor sustene,
But gan anoon [to] flen oute of þe place.
And kyng Priam so narwe gan hem chace,
Þat of nede and necessite,
Þoruȝ þe slauȝter and þe cruelte
Of his swerd, sharpe whet & grounde,
Þer was no Greke in þe feld y-founde
But fled aweye, eueryche to his tent;
And þei of Troye be to her cite went
Be-cause it drowe fast[e] toward nyȝt,
For Phebus had be-reved hem his liȝt.
And so þe honour of þis hiȝe victorie,
Þe worship eke, þe laude & memorie,
Perpetuelly, and þe palme also
Priam þe kyng hath wonnen & no mo
For þilke day, in reles of his sorwe.

Howe Priamus sent to þe Grekes for a trewe, & in þe mene tyme ordeynd þe Cors of þe Kenge of Perce to be burede.

And, as I rede, on þe next[e] morwe
He hath y-sent oute of Troye toun
For a trew to Agamenoun,
Whiche granted was þe silve day at prime,
—Al-be þer-of rehersid be no tyme
How longe it last, in þe boke expresse—
Duryng þe whiche þei dide her besynes,
Hertly labour, and inward dilligence
For to ordeyne with gret[e] reuerence
How þat þe cors of þe worþi kyng
Of Perce lond, with-oute more tariyng,
With kyngly honour oute of Troye toun
Shal caried ben in-to his regioun
To be buried with his predessessours,
With oþer kynges, his progenitours.
Þe whiche þing was complet be þavis
Of Alysaunder, þat called was Parys.
And first þe cors, enbawmed richely,
Conveied was ful sollempnely,
As writ Guydo, with an huge route
Of his knyȝtes rydyng him aboute,
Trist and hevy, clad in blak echon.
And with þe char þe riȝt[e] weie þei gon
Toward Perce, ledyng of þis kyng
Þe dede cors toward his buriyng,
Whiche halwed was, lyche his estat royal.
And in þis while þe fest[e] funeral
Was holde also with gret deuocioun
Of worþi Hector with-Inne Troye toun,
Liche þe custom vsed in þo dawes
And þe ritys of her paynym lawes.
Þe whiche fest, as made is mencioun,
Fro ȝer to ȝer by reuolucioun
I-halwed was þe space of fourte-nyȝt,
With many flawme and many hydous liȝt
Þat brent enviroun in þe seintuarye,
And called was þe Anyuersarye,
For þat it cam aboute ȝer by ȝer
A certeyn day in her kalender.
In whiche of custom for a remembraunce
Þe peple shulde by contunvance
Pleyne and wepe, & also preie and rede
For her frendis þat a-forn were dede,
Ful pitously with her heer [to-]torn,
Mornyng in blak & knelynge ay a-forn
Þe dede cors of þis worþi knyȝt,
Whiche in his tyme passing was of myȝt.
And þis was doon while þe trew[e]s dure,
So þat Grekis trustly myȝt assure
Whan þat hem list, at good liberte,
With-oute daunger entre þe cyte
Day be day; and Troyens myȝt also
Vn-to þe Grekis frely come and go.
At whiche tyme, with ful gret delyt,
Hath Achilles cauȝt an appetit
To entre and se þe maner of þe toun,
With-oute wisdam or discrecioun,
For to behold, pleinly, and to se
Hooly þe maner of þis solempnyte.

How Achilles first, in the Tempele of Apollo, was smyte with Cupidys darte, in lovynge of Polycyne.

And forþe he went on a certein day
Toward Troye, in al þe hast he may,
Vnarmyd, soth[ly], as myn auctor seith,
With-oute assuraunce or any oþer feith
Excepte þe trew, who-so be lefe or loth.
And first of al to þe temple he goth
Of Appollo: halwed was þe feste
Þoruȝ-oute þe toun, doun vn-to þe lest,
Þat clepid was þe Anyuersarie,
As ȝe han herde,—what shuld I lenger tarie?—
And many worþi present was þer-at,
Amyd þe temple, of hiȝe and lowe estat—
Lordis and ladyes, of affeccioun,
From euery part gadred of þe toun.
Now was the cors of þis worþi knyþt
As freshe of colour kepte vn-to þe siȝt,
As lifly eke, and as quik of hewe
To be-holde as any rose newe,
Þoruȝ vertu only of þe gommys swete
And þe bawme þat gan aboute flete
To euery Ioynt and eche extremyte.
And at þis feste and solempnyte
Was Eccuba and ȝonge Polycene,
So wommanly and goodly on to sene,
With many oþer of hiȝe estat and lowe,
To-fore þe cors sittynge on a rowe
With heer vntressid, clad in wedis blake,
Þat euere in on swich a sorwe make
Þat routh[e] was and pite for to sene
How þei pleyne & þe deth be-mene
Of worþi Hector, of knyȝthod grounde & welle.
But trowe ȝe (as Guydo list to telle)
Þat Polycene, in al hir woful rage
I-chaungid hath vp-on hir visage
Hir natif colour, as fresche to þe siȝt
As is þe rose or þe lillye whiȝt?
Ouþer þe freshenes of hir lippes rede,
For al þe terys þat she gan to shede
On hir chekis, as any cristal clere?—
Hir heer also, resemblyng to gold wyre,
Whiche lay abrood like vn-to þe siȝt
[Of] Phebus bemys in his spere briȝt,
When he to vs doth his liȝt avale.
And ay she rent with hir fyngeris smale
Hir golden here on hir blake wede,
Of whiche þing Achilles toke good hede,
And gan merueille gretly in his þouȝt
How God or Kynde euer myȝt haue wrouȝt
In her werkis so fair a creature:
For he þouȝt he myȝt[e] nat endure
To beholde þe briȝtnes of hir face;
For he felt þoruȝ his herte pace
Þe percyng stremys of hir eyen two,
Cupides brond hath hym markid so,
For loue of hir, þat in his desire
He brent as hoote, in soth, as any fire,
And after sone with sodeyn colde he quoke,
And alweye fix on hir he hadde his loke,
So þat þe arwe of þe god Cupide
Percid hym evene þoruȝ þe syde
To þe herte, & ȝaf hym swiche a wounde
Þat neuere was lykly for to sounde.
And ay in oon his loke on hir he caste,
As he durste, and gan to presse faste
Toward hir, namly, with his eye,
Þat hym þouȝt he most nedis deye,
But ȝif þat he founde in hir some grace—
Þer was no geyn: for pleinly in þat place
Of newe he was kauȝt in lovis snare,
Þat of helth and of al welfare
He was dispeired in his herte so,
Þat he ne knew what was best to do.
Eche oþer þing, I do ȝow wel assure,
He set at nouȝt, and toke of hit no cure;
His þouȝt was hool on hir & on no mo;
Þe longe day þus went he to and fro,
Til Phebus char lowe gan declyne
His golden axtre, þat so cler doth shine,
—Þis to seyne, þe sonne went[e] doun—
Whan Eccuba, quene of Troye toun,
And hir dauȝter Pollycene, also,
Oute of þe temple to þe paleis go;
And ay Achilles on hir hadde a siȝt
While he myȝt, til for lak of liȝt
He may no more haue leyser oportune
To loke on hir, cursed be fortune.

Achilles, in the syght of Polycene, kaght his dethe, and so went oute of þe Tempyle to his Tente.

For whiche in haste he makid haþe his went
With his knyȝtes home vn-to his tent,
Wher he anon, with-oute more tariyng,
To bedde goth, ful trist in compleyning,
Ay in hym silf casting vp and doun,
In his mynde, and eke in his resoun,
From hed to foot hir bewte euerydel.
And in his hert he felt & knewe ful wel
Þat final cause of his languysshinge
Was Polycene, of bewte most passinge:
For loue of whom so moche peine he felte,
Þat with þe hete he þouȝt his hert[e] melte—
Ay on his bedde walwyng to & fro
For þe constreint of his hidde wo,
For whiche almost him þouȝt[e] þat he deide,
And to him silfe even þus he seide:
“Allas,” quod he, “how me is wo be-goon,
Þat of my sorwe know[e] ende noon;
For I suppose, sith þe world be-gan
Ne was þer neuere a wofuller man:
For I þat whilom was of so gret myȝt,
So renomed of euery maner wyȝt
Þoruȝ-oute þe world, boþe of hiȝe & lowe—
For þer was noon, in soþe, þat koude knowe
A man in armys þat was more famus,
Nor I-holde more victorius,
To-fore þis tyme remembrid be no stile
In-to þis day—allas, þe harde while!—
Nouþer Hector, pleinly, nor noon oþer,
Of Polycene þat was þe worþi broþer,
Þat power had whan þei with me mette,
For al her myȝt, me to ouer-sette,
Nor in þe felde my force for to daunte,
Here priuely as I me dar avaunte!
But now, allas, a mayde of tender age
Hath sodeinly me brouȝt in swiche a rage,
Þat with þe stremys of hir eyen tweyne
She percid hath and corve[n] euery veyne
Of myn hert, þat I may nat asterte
For to be ded, þoruȝ constreint of my smerte!
For who shal now wissen me or teche,
Or who, allas, shal now be my leche,
Or who shal now helpe me or saue?—
Þer is but deth, and after þat my graue,
For oþer hope, pleinly, is þer noon
Saue in hir mercy, allas, & þat is goon!—
For nouþer prayer, tresour, nor richesse,
Force nor myȝt, nouþer hiȝe prowesse,
Hiȝnes of blood, birþe nor kynrede
May availle [n]or helpen in þis nede
To meven hir, nor my sadde trouþe,
Vp-on my wo euere to haue rouþe!
What newe furie or importune rage
Hath brought myn herte in-to swyche outrage,
Ageyn[e]s whiche I can not debate—
To loue hir best þat dedly doth me hate!—
And, in good feith, who wisly list aduerte,
Litel wonder þouȝ she me hate of herte,
Sith I am come hyder fro so ferre
On hir kynrede for to make werre,
In þe whiche, to my confusioun,
Hir knyȝtly broþer, most worþi of renoun,
Haue fatally with myn hondis slawe,
Whiche in þis worlde had[de] no felawe
Of worþinesse nor of manlyhede!
Allas! allas! now may I quake and drede,
And of my lyf fallen in dispeire:
For how shuld I be bold to haue repeire,
Or dorn, allas, comen in hir siȝt?—
I woful wreche! I vnhappy wyȝt!
Or how shal I ben hardy to appere
In þe presence of hir eyen clere?
Certys, I se non oþer mene weye
But finally þat I must[e] deye—
So dispeired I stonde on euery syde,
Of oþer helpe I can me nat prouyde.”
And riȝt anoon, with profounde siȝes depe,
Þis Achilles brast oute for to wepe,
With dedly chere, pale and funeral,
And with his face turned to þe wal,
Þat rouþe was and pite for to sene
Þe hertly furie of his peynes kene.
For so oppressed he was in his þouȝt,
Of lyf nor deth þat he rouȝt[e] nouȝt;
And þis contvneth til it drow to nyȝt,
Þat Titan haþ withdrawe his clere liȝt.

Howe Achilles sent his messanger to quene Eccuba for to have Polycene: wherfor he wolde set þe Troyans and þe Grekes at finale pece.

And euere in oon lith þis woful man
I-liche sike, of colour pale and wan,
With-oute slepe, so fretyng was his sorwe,
Til Lucifer, on þe nexte morwe,
To-fore þe sonne, with his bemys clere,
Ful lustely gan for to appere
In þe orient, whan þis Achilles,
Vnpacient, with-oute reste or pes,
Quakynge euere in his feuere newe,
As it was sene, pleinly, in his hewe—
Til he abreide of anguysshe sodeynly,
And called oon þat was with hym prevy,
And of counseil whom he tristeþ wel;
And vn-to hym he telleþ euerydel
From point to point with him how it stood,
And sent him forþe, be-cause he koude his god,
On his message streiȝt to Troye toun
With ful avis and informacioun
Of þis mater to Eccuba þe quene,
Þoruȝ his wisdam for to ben a mene,
Ȝif he myȝt, by his discrecioun,
Fynde any waye of sauacioun
Vn-to his lord, þat he louyd so.
And to þe quene anon he is go,
And his mater wysly gan conveie
To-forn or he of grace wolde preie
Þat she enioieth to ȝeue hym audience:
For in his tale þer was noon offence—
He was no fool, nor newe for to lere.
Wherfore, þe quene goodly gan hym here
Of al þat euere hym likeþ for to seyn—
Þer was no worde y-lost nor spoke in veyn,
For his tale no man koude amende.
[And] Craftely he gan to discende
To þe substaunce, and tolde clerly out,
With premisses ful wel brouȝt about,
Þat finally, in conclusioun,
Þe chefe, he seide, of his entencioun,
Effectuelly, ȝif it wolde be,
Was for to make pes and vnite
Atwene Grekis & þe folke of Troye,
To whiche þing he knew no better woye
Þan of þe werre, for her alder ese,
By his wit prudently tapese
Þe mortal strife and þe bitter rage
By allyaunce only of mariage,
Ȝif þat hir liste, þis wyse, worþi quene,
Þat hir douȝter, faire Pollycene,
May weddid be vn-to Achilles,
Wher-þoruȝ þer myȝt be a final pes—
Ȝif Eccuba, by hir discresioun,
Þoruȝ hir wit and mediacioun,
And hir prudence myȝt aboute brynge
Þat Priamus were fully assentynge,
Þat Achilles myȝt his douȝter wyve,
So þat it myȝt parformyd ben as blyue
(Lyke as I haue made mencioun),
By couenaunt only, and condicioun
Þat þe Grekis shal her werre lete,
And suffre him to lyuen in quyete—
Ȝif þe mariage of þis ilke tweyne
Parformed be, and knyt up in a cheyne.

Of the answere of Eccuba, and howe she exortede Kynge Pryamus to þe same entent.

And whan þe quene hath knowen his entent,
Ful sobirly, by good avysement,
To-forn or þat any word asterte,
Ful pitously she syȝed in hir herte;
And, at þe laste, with a sobir chere,
She seide þus to þe messager:
“My frend,” quod she, “touching þi request,
I can no more make þe beheste,
But at þe leste I wil condiscende
What lyth in me to bringe to an ende
Þi lordis wil, with al myn herte entere.
But here-vp-on, I muste firste requere
Þe kynges wil, ȝif he wil ȝeue assent
To þe purpos [for] whiche þou art sent;
And, ouermore, I muste wyte also
Ȝif þat Parys be willyng eke þer-to—
Of whiche þing, with euery circumstaunce,
I wil my silfe maken enqueraunce
Ful feithfully of Priam and Parys,
Þe mene whyle, what is her avys,
With-oute more, with-Inne dayes þre,
At whiche tyme come ageyn to me
From Achilles, ȝif he wil þe sende,
And finally þou shalt knowe an ende
Of þis mater, and an answere pleyn.”
And home he goth to Achilles ageyn
With ful glad chere, his lord þe mor to plese;
And for to sette his hert[e] bet at ese,
Avisely, of hiȝe discrecioun,
He hath so made his relacioun,
And told his tale in so þrifti wyse,
As he þat koude his wordis so deuyse
To bringe in hope [in-]to his lordis herte,
With ful reles of his peynes smert,
Wher-by he made his sorwe to withdrawe.
And þus while hope gan [for] to a-dawe
Amyd his brest, Eccuba þe quene
To Priam spak of þis Polycene,
Touchinge þe sonde of þis Achilles,
And of his profre for to make a pes—
She tolde hym al, & for-gat no þinge.

Howe Priamus disclosyde the privite of his conseyte and gruchinge to be allyed with Achilles.

Wher-of astonyd, Priamus þe kyng
Spak nat a word half an oures space,
But in hym silfe gan for to compasse
Ful prudently what it myȝt[e] mene,
Þat Achilles wolde haue Polycene
Vn-to his wyf, ay wondring mor & more;
And at þe last, siȝynge wonder sore,
He discloseth þe conceit of his herte,
And seide, “allas! how sore it doth me smerte
To remembre þat I may haue no pes—
Þe grete offence of þis Achilles
Towardis me, pleinly, whan þat he
Slowe worþi Hector, þoru his cruelte,
Þat hooly was vp-on euery side
Þassuraunce, gouernour, and guyde
Of me and myn, platly, for to seyne,
And, þer-with-al, of myn eyen tweyne
He was allone þe verray sothfast lyȝt,
Shelde & protectour þoruȝ his gret[e] myȝt
And his manhod ageyn þe mortal rage
Of Grekis werre in my croked age!
But now, allas, to my confusioun
He slawen is, so worþi of renoun,
Be Achilles, whiche may not out of mynde—
Þat in myn hert I can neuere fynde
To ben allyed with my mortal foo,
Rote & grounde of al my sorwe & wo!
It were ful harde myn hert[e] to apese
To loven hym þat causeþ myn vnese
On euery half, wher-þoruȝ my cruel foon,
Þe proude Grekis, hertid ben echon
Ageyn[e]s me, now fortune is contrarie,
Torned of newe my quarel to apaire—
Þat causeth Grekis, wood and furious,
On me, allas, to be presumptuous,
Only for Hector is me berafte away.
But sithen I noon oþer chese may,
Ageyn[e]s herte, þouȝ it for anger ryve,
In þis mater assay I shal to strive,
Þouȝ me be loth, & sitteth me ful sore—
Ȝit to eschewe harmys þat ben more,
Whiche likly ben here-after for to falle,
And for to saue myn oþer sonys alle,
I wil concent þat þis Achilles,
So þat he make a trewe final pes
Atwene Grekis and also þis cite,
With-oute more, pleinly, how þat he
Haue vn-to wyfe my douȝter Polycene.
But list þat he any tresoun mene,
My wil is, first, how-so þat it wende,
Of his beheste þat he make an ende,
Wiþ-oute fraude: þis is myn avis.”
To whiche conseil assenteth eke Parys,
And more rathe, in conclusioun,
For þer was made noon excepcioun
In þis trete of þe quene Eleyne,
Þat Menelaye euere shulde atteyne
Hir to recure ageyn vn-to his wyf—
For whiche Paris, with-oute noise or strife,
Or grucchinge ouþer, vn-to þis entent
With-Inne hym silf was fully of assent,
Þer-by hopynge, with-oute fere or drede,
Perpetuelly Eleyn[e] to possede
Riȝt at his lust, & no man shal seie nay.
And after þis, vppon þe þrid[de] day
Achilles hath, to wyte of þis mater,
To Eccuba sent his Messanger;
And she tolde hym þe answere of þe kyng,
Ceriously gynnynge and endynge,
And how þat he assenteth wel þer-to,
And Paris eke, & she hir silfe also,
Ȝif it so were, pleynly, she hym tolde,
Touchinge þe pes þat þe purpos holde,
And firste þat he his heste bring aboute
Þat þei be sure: þanne him dar not doute
Þat he shal haue his purpos euerydel,
Ȝif þat he wirke prudently and wel.
And here-vp-on, with informacioun
Þis messanger, oute of Troye toun,
With-oute abood, in al þe haste he may,
To Achilles helde þe riȝt[e] way,
And tolde him hool þeffect of þis mater.
And he alweie feruent and entere,
In herte brent hoot as any glede,
And saw þer was no waye for to spede
But only pes, as ȝe han herd me telle;
And ay his brest with siȝes gan to swelle
For þe loue of þis Polycene,
And cast a[l]way, a-monge his peines kene,
To his purpos a weie for to fynde.
And whiles he was besy in his mynde
How he shuld his purpos bringe a-boute,
And in hym silf cast[e] many a doute,
Anoon Dispeir in a rage vp-sterte
And cruelly cauȝte hym by þe herte,
Whiche hath hym þrowe in-to swiche a were,
Þat hym þouȝte it nas in his power
His beheste to fulfille in dede,
Excepte he hadde wel þe lasse drede
Euery þing to putte[n] in certeyn,
Wenyng no Greke wolde his lust withseyn,
From his desire to be variable.
And to hym silf þus was he fauourable
For to parforme, and no þing denye—
Al þat was lusty to his fantasye—
As is þe maner of louers euerychon,
Þat þei suppose to acheue anon
What þing it be þat þei take on honde,
In what disioint þat þe mater stonde,
Al-þeiȝ it be a verray impossible—
In her foly þei ben [ay] so credible.
And so Achilles trusteth finally
To fulfille his hestes outterly,
Supposyng ay, for his worþines,
For his manhod and his hiȝe prowes,
In whiche he dide hym silfe glorifie
Somwhat of pride and of surquedie,
How þe Grekis shulde be dispeired
Boþe of her trust & her myȝt apeired,
Vp-on Troyens to wynnen any londe,
Ȝif it so were he with-drowe his honde
To helpen hem, and þer-with-al also
Home in-to Grece þat þei wolde go
From þe sege, only for his sake,
And her quarel outterly forsake,—
But it so were þis hardy ferse Achille
With hem abood þe cite for to spille.
For whiche þing þe lordis by assent
Assemblid wern to heren þe entent
Amonge hem alle of þis Achilles,
By þe biddynge of Pallamydes.

Howe Achilles, for the love of Polycene, exortede instantly the Grekis for to take A parpetuale pece with the Troyans, þe which pece he mevyde by many a sotele mene.

And whan þei wern gadrid alle I-fere,
To-forn hem alle, like as ȝe shal here,
Þis Achilles hath his tale gonne,
And seide: “sirs, þat so moche konne
Boþe of wisdam and of hiȝe prudence,
So renomed eke of sapience
Þoruȝ-oute þe worlde, and of discrecioun,
And ben so worþi also of renoun,
Kynges, dukis, of whom þe rial name
From est to west floureþ ȝit þe fame,
Boþe of knyȝthod and of manlihede,
To þat I seie, I praye ȝou takeþ hede:
Þis to seyne, ȝif þat ȝe considere
Þe pleyn entent of oure comynge hider,
By good avis and discrecioun,
Had no grounde founded on resoun
Nor cause roted on no titel of riȝt,
Ȝif it so be, þat ȝe lifte vp ȝoure siȝt
And aduerten clerly in ȝoure mynde:
Ful fer abak wit was sette be-hynde,
Prudent lokynge, and avisenesse;
For first whan we, of foly hastynesse,
Toke vp-on vs to come fro so ferre
Ageyn[e]s Troyens for to gynne a werre,
And to iuparde oure lyves euerychon
For þe loue of o man allone—
Ȝe weten alle, I trow[e], whom I mene:
Kynge Menelay, defrauded of his quene—
To telle trouþe, me list nat for to feyne;
For ȝe wel wite, only þat Eleyne
Was grounde & gynnynge of al þis debate,
For whom so many worþi of estate,
Recurles of any remedye,
Life and good han putte in iupartie—
Oure londis left and oure regiouns,
Oure cites eke & oure riche tounes,
Whiche by oure absence stond[e] desolat—
Wives and childer eke disconsolat,
In wo abide, mournynge, & distresse,
Whiles þat we, þe sothe to expresse,
Fro day to day, be-set on euery syde,
Lyn in þe felde, and oure deth abide
In sorwe & care, in labour and in wo.
And, with al þis, ȝe wete wel also,
Siþen tyme þat þe werre be-gan,
Of oure Grekis how many worþi man
Hath loste his lyf þoruȝ deþis fatal wounde,
Þat myȝt her-to haue lyued & be sounde
At home in Grece assured wel in Ioye,
Ȝif þei ne hadde comen vn-to Troye—
Þat to remembre it is ful gret pite.
And, ouer þis, I seie also for me,
Amonge Troyens in her cruel mood,
I haue y-lost so moche of my blood,
Þat hath ful ofte made me pale of hewe;—
Þis oþer day, also, grene and newe,
I hadde of Hector swiche a mortal wounde,
With a quarel sharpe whet & grounde,
Aboue þe þiȝe, so kene was þe hed
—Þe same day a-forn þat he was ded,
Of verray hap as it was y-shape,—
Þat fro þe deth vnneþe I myȝte eskape.
Whiche [ȝit] al freshe is vppon me sene,
Large and wyde, and as ȝit but grene,
Þe smert of whiche sore ȝit I pleyne.
And, in good feith, me semeth þat Eleyne,
Ȝif ȝe aduerte wysly in ȝour þouȝt,
With swiche a pris shuld[e] nat be bouȝt,
Wher-þoruȝ oure lyf and oure good y-fere,
And oure honour arn y-put in were,
And dredfully hangen in ballaunce.
For ȝif þat ȝe in ȝoure remembraunce
Conceyve a-riȝt and cast[en] vp & doun
Þe sodeyn chaunge and reuolucioun
Þat fallen hath sith þe werre gan,
Þe slauȝter & deth of many worþi man
Þat for hir sake hath here lost his lyf,—
Ȝet þe werst of þis mortal strif
Doth most rebounde [in-]to oure damage,
To disencres and eke disavauntage,
And likly is to encrese more
Ȝif ordynaunce be nat made þer-fore,
And remedie shape on ouþer side,
By fyn only þat Eleyne abide
With hem of Troye, stille here in þe toun.
And late vs cast, by good inspeccioun,
For oure ese som oþer mene way,
So þat þe kyng called Menelay
Chese hym a wyf in som oþer lond,
Lyk his estat be suraunce or be bonde,
Vnder wedlok confermed vp of newe,
Þat vn-to hym wole be founde trewe,
Siþen þat he, with-oute gilte or synne,
May be þe law from Eleyn[e] twynne:
For of dyvos causis ben y-nowe,
Þoruȝ-oute þe worlde of euery wiȝt [I-]knowe,
Of avoutri for þe foule vice.
For to lawe is no preiudice,
Þouȝ Menelay iustly hir for-sake,
Whan so hym list, and anoþer take
Þat shal him bet boþe queme & plese.
And so to vs it shal be ful gret ese,
Whan þe werre is brouȝt to an ende,
Whiche likly is many man to shende,
Ȝif it so be þat it forþe contvne.
Þe grete labour is so inportune,
Þat we ne shal no while mowe sustene:
For þis is soth, with-outen any wene,
Troyens ȝit ben flourynge in her myȝt,
And with hem han ful many worþi knyȝt
To helpen hem, of hiȝe & lowe degre;
And þer-with-al, so stronge is her cyte
On euery parte, with-outen & with-Inne,
Þat we ar nat likly for to wynne
In oure purpos, þouȝ we euere abide.
Wherfore, be wisdam lete vs voide pride
And wilfulnes, only of prudence
To han þe eye of oure aduertence
To oure profyt more þan to veyn-glorie,
And while oure honour shyneþ by victorie,
A wysdam is to withdrawe oure hond,
Sith we may nat constreyne by no bond
Fortunys whele for to abide stable.
Wherfor, I rede, or she be mutable,
Þis gery goddes with hir double cher,
Lat vs ȝeve vp swiche þing as liþe in wer
Whiles þat we mow oure worship saue:
For of þe werre þe laude ȝit we haue,
Considered wel how by oure manlyhede
Oure most[e] fo, Hector, is now dede;
And while þat we in oure honour floure,
My counseil is, or Fortune loure,
As I seide er, to chaunge hir briȝt[e] face,
While þat best we stonde in hir grace,
By on assent and oon oppinioun,
With-outen any contradiccioun,
Of hert & wil, boþe of on and alle,
Or oure honour on any party palle,
In-to Grece þat we home retourne.
For ȝif þat we lenger here soiourne
On þe quarel þat we haue longe swed,
Dout[e]les—it may nat bene eschewed—
Ful gret damage—þis with-oute faile—
Or we haue don, shal folwen at þe taile,
Wherfore, best is oure foly vp resigne.
And while oure hap is welful & benygne,
Most blaundisshinge, and of face faire,
Þe tyme is best to maken oure repeire,
While þat we stonde, in party & in al,
With oure enemyes in honour perigal
And fer aboue, pleinly, ȝif þat we
Koude han an eye to oure felicite,
While þat is in his ascenceoun.
But list som man wil make obieccioun
Þat we may nat [so] oure honour saue,
To repeire, pleynly, but we haue
Eleyne ageyn, þat is cause of al:—
To whiche þing anoon answer I shal,
Ȝif any man in his fantasie,
To dishonour or to vyllenye
Arrette wolde, in any maner kynde,
We to gon hom & leven hir be-hynde,
Shortly to seyn, I holde it be no shame,
Sith þat we han on as gret of name
As is Eleyne, and of berthe as good,
Amongis vs y-come of kynges blood,
Suster to Priam, lord of Troye toun,
Exyona, whom þat Thelamoun
In kepyng haþ, ȝif I shal nat feyne,
In Troye toun as Paris haþ Eleyne.
And sithe now it may bene noon oþer,
Lete þe ton be sette ageyn þe toþer;
And þe surplus of olde enmyte
Betwyxen vs and Troye þe cite,
My conseil is, for oure boþen ese,
By on assent wysly to appese—
Þis al and som—& þat we hen[ne]s wende.
I can no more; my tale is at an ende.”

Howe Kynge Menelaus, Heleyn-is husbonde, replyede agayns the exortacyons of Achilles.

To whom anoon kyng Menelaus,
For verray Ire wood and furious,
And kyng Thoas, þe duke eke of Athene,
As þei þat myȝt no lenger hym sustene,
—To suffren hym þei were so rek[e]les—
Spak alle attonis vn-to Achilles,
Nat only þei, but, þoruȝ inpacience,
Þe court parturbid, with-oute prouidence
With tumult gonne to repreue
Þis Achilles, and proudly hem commeve
Ageyn[e]s hym and hys oppinioun.
And seide shortly, in conclusioun,
Vn-to his reed þei nold[e] neuere assent
Nor condescende to no þing þat he ment,
To be gouerned by hym in þis cas!
For whiche þing anoon Achilles was
So full of Ire and rancour in his hert,
Þat sodeinly from his se he sterte,
And went his way, as he were in a rage,
Triste and pale, and a wood visage,
And shortly seide, for hym list nat feyne,
Þat he ne wolde lenger don his peyne
To helpen hem, how-so þat þei spede,
Ageyn[e]s Troyens, for no maner nede;
And bad anon, þis hardy Achilles,
To his knyȝtes, called Mirundones,
Þat þei no more with spere nor with shelde
To helpe Grekis entren in-to felde,
But kepe hem clos at home with-Inne her tent.
Þus in his Ire he ȝaf commaundement
To alle his men, as ȝe han herd deuise,
Hem to withdrawe at euery hyȝe emprise,
Whan-so-euere þei goon in-to bataille.
And in þis while skarsenes of vitaille
Fil in þe hoste of fleshe, bred, & wyn,
Þat many Greke brouȝt vn-to his fyn;
For þei ne myȝt endure for distresse,
Constreint of hunger dide hem so oppresse,
Til at the last kyng Pallamydes,
As he þat was in no þing rek[e]les,
Hath þer-vp-on maked purviaunce,
Remedie, and redy ordinaunce.
And by assent & counseil of echon,
He haþ y-sent wyse Agamenoun,
Þe worþi kyng, to Messa þere beside,
A litel Ile, only to prouide
For þe Grekis, ȝif he myȝt[e] spede
Hem to releue in þis grete nede.
And Thelephus, kyng of þilke lond,
Of gentilnes hath put to his hond,
As he þat was large & wonder fre,
And renomyd of humanite,
To socour hem, commaundinge anoon
His puruyours in al haste to goon
From euery party abouten enviroun
Þoruȝ alle þe boundis of his regioun,
And feithfully to cerchyn euery coste
To take up vitaille for þe Grekis host.
And after þat, ful hastely he made
To stuffe her shippes, pleinly, & to lade
With euery þing þat was necessarie
To þe Grekis, and be water carie,
At request of Agamenoun,
With-oute tariynge or dilacioun.
And so þe kyng, with plente of vitaille
Frauȝt and y-lade, gan anon to saille
Toward þe sege, he & his meyne,
Ay costeiynge by þe Grekysshe se.
Þe wynde was good, & þe kyng as blyve
With his navie at Troye dide aryve
In fewe dayes; and Grekis anon riȝt
Of his repeire were ful glad & lyȝt,
Of his expleit and his gode speed,
Þat he so wel hath born hym in þis nede.
And after þis, Pallamydes anoon,
As seith Guydo, is to his shippes goon
For to considre and loken al aboute
Wher nede was, with-Inne & with-oute,
Any of hem to [a]mendyn or repare,
As he þat list for no cost to spare,
In euery þing, with-oute necligence,
Touching his charge to don his dilligence,
Til þe trews fully wern oute ronne,
And þe werris new ageyn be-gonne,
Whiche many man, sothly, dere abouȝt.
And ceriously to write how þei wrouȝt,
My purpose is, pleinly, in sentence,
Vnder support of ȝoure pacience.

Of the dethe of Dephebus, sclayne by the hondys of Kynge Pallamydes with a spere.

Dvring in oon þe dedly cruel hate,
Þat stynte may nor cesse by no date
Atwyxe Grekis and hem of þe toun,
To grete damage and destruccioun
On ouþer part, felyng ful vnswete,—
Til on a day þei caste for to mete,
As þei wer wont, proudly with spere & sheld,
With her wardis entryng in-to felde,
Armyd ful briȝt vp-on ouþer syde,
And embatailled stoute, & ful of pride,
Ful knyȝtly han chose her grounde, & take
Her large baners, with þe wynde y-shake,
Til þei to-gidre sodeinly han met.
And alderfirst, Dephebus hath set,
Freshe & lusty, and of herte Irous,
Vp-on a kyng called Cresevs;
And of envie, þe story telleþ þan,
On hors[e]-bake as þei to-gidre ran,
Dephebus first with his spere as bliue
Þoruȝ-oute þe brest euene dide him ryve
Vn-to þe herte, þat he spake no more.
Þe deth of whom Grekis pleine sore,
And for his loue swiche a wo þei make,
Þat al astonied þei han þe feld forsake,
And gan anon vn-to her tentis fle.
Þe whiche, in soth, whan þei of Troye se,
Vp-on þe chas fast[e] gan hem spede,
Vn-to þe tyme þat worþi Dyomede,
And wiþ him eke þe kyng Pallamydes,
Of hiȝe dispit, cruel and merciles,
With twenty þousand worþi knyȝtes alle,
Vp-on Troyens sodeynly arn falle,
And mortally made hem lese her woye,
And to resorte hom ageyn to Troye.
And eke with Grekis, fel & furious,
Þe same tyme cam Thelamonyvs,
Þat hiȝt Aiax, þe stronge knyȝtly man;
And like a lyoun amonge hem as he ran
Vp-on Troyens and hem ouer-sette,
Casuelly in his weye he mette
Cecylyen, lusty, freshe, and liȝt,
And of his tyme a wonder manly knyȝt,
And sone was to Priam, as I rede,
Whom Thelamoun, prikyng on his stede,
Slowe cruelly with his swerde anoon,
Racynge his arme fro þe sholder bon,
Þat he, allas! fil ded in þe feld.
Þe deth of whom whan Dephebus behelde,
Woder anon þan tigre or lyoun,
With a spere ran to Thelamoun,
And smet hym so þoruȝ his platis briȝt,
Of verray force þat he made hym liȝt,
And lese his sadel, be-set amonge þe pres.
Þe whiche strok, whan Pallamydes
Behelde & sawe, & clerly gan aduerte,
Irous & wood, with a furious herte
Caste hym anoon tavenge Thelamoun
On Dephebus, ful worþi of renoun,
And mortally his guerdoun hym to quyte;
And with a spere, grounde for to byte,
Sharpe & kene, large, rounde, & square,
Ful cruelly, or þat he was ware,
Þoruȝ his harneis, with-oute more arest,
Dephebus he smote so in þe brest,
Þat with þe strok he brake þe shafte a-two,
So þat þe tronchoun & þe hed also
Left in his brest, þat þer was no weye,
Finally, but þat he muste deye—
Þer was noon helpe nor remedie at al;
Þe wounde was so cruel and mortal,
Þat with þe lyf he myȝt[e] nat abyde.
And in þis while, Parys cam be-side,
Of auenture, while þis Dephebus
Was of his wounde so inly anguysshous,
And gan in hast for taprochen ner,
With face pale and [riȝt] an heuy cher,
And for distresse wepte pitously,
And his knyȝtes commandid hastily,
His wounded broþer oute a-syde fere
In al haste þat þei shulde bere,
Oute of þe wardis fro þe grete pres,
Vn-to his peyne for to do reles,
For tabreþe hym at leyser, or tavente
In open eyr. & þei vn-to hym wente,
Maugre þe Grekis, wher he wounded was,
And bare hym oute a ful esy pace
Toward þe wallis, fast[e] by þe toun,
And with gret dool and lamentacioun
Ful soft[e]ly on þe grounde hym layde,
Til at the laste þis dedly man abreyde,
With mortal loke and face funeral,
And chere pitous, so þat eche bal
Gan turnen vp of his dedly eye,
And euene þus to Paris he gan seie:

Dephebus requirede his brother Parys to revenge his deth vpone Kynge Pallamydes.

“O broþer myn, whom þat I louede so,
Haue now pite & rewe vp-on my wo
Of kyndenes and of broþerhede,
And to my wordis of rouþe take now hede,
Sith we be deth muste asonder twynne;
For Antropos shal no lenger spynne
My lyues þrede, but þe knot[te] breke.
Wherfor, broþer, I praye þe be wreke
Vp-on my deth, or I hen[ne]s pace,
Ȝif þat þou list [to] do me swiche a grace
Of kyndenes, ȝet or I be ded,—
Out of my brest or þis speris hed
Be rent a-wey, þat þou avenged be
Vp-on my fo, as I trust in þe,
Þat I may wyte he be ded or I,
And þat his spirit passe finally,
And first descende depe doun in helle,
Eternally with Pluto for to dwelle,
Mid his boundis, þat dirke ben & lowe.
For, finally, so þat I may knowe
Þat he be ded—þer is no more to seie,
I gif no fors how sone þat I deie.”
To whos requeste Paris toke good hede,
And in þe feld fast[e] gan hym spede,
For þouȝt & wo pitously wepynge,
While his broþer lay þer languysshinge,
Nat awayting but only after deth,
Vp-on þe point to ȝelden vp þe breth.
And with his knyȝtes Paris vp & doun
Þe wardis souȝt aboute[n] enviroun,
Til at þe last Pallamydes he fond
With Sarpedoun fiȝtynge hond of hond.
Now was þis kyng, þis worþi Sarpedoun,
Come in diffence of hem of Troye toun,
Whiche of his hond was a noble knyȝt.
And while þat he with al his ful[le] myȝt
Most besy was Pallamydes topresse,
Liche a lyoun whetted wiþ woodnes,
Pallamydes, in hert[e] nat aferd,
Lete fleen at hym with his sharpe swerd
So myȝtely, þat it was a wonder;
For he his þiȝe partid hath a-sonder,
And smote it of by þe harde boon,
Þat Sarpedoun fil doun ded anoon—
So þat Troyens, whan þat he was slawe,
Were compelled of force hem to with-drawe,
Þoruȝ þe pursut of kyng Pallamydes
Whiche vp-on hem was so mercyles,
And as cruel as a wood lyoun,
After þe deth of worþi Sarpedoun.
Þe whiche, allas, whan Paris did espie,
He markid hym with a cruel eye,
And hent a bowe þat passingly was stronge,
And with an arwe to his tiler longe,
Entoxycat with venym in þe hed,
Þat whom he smot þer-with was but ded,
And hitte hym so in þe aventaille,
Þoruȝ-oute þe stuf and þe þikke maylle
In-to his þrote þat it gan þoruȝ pace,
Þat he fil ded in þe silve place,
Pallamydes, þis manful worþi knyȝt.
Wher-þoruȝ Grekis toke hem to þe fliȝt,
And made a noyse and a woful crye,
Þe deth compleynyng wonder pitously
Of her lord and myȝty gouernour,
But late chose to ben Emperour,
Her chefe socour and souereyn refut.
But now, allas! þei stonde destitut
Of gouernaunce, broke & disaraied,
With-oute guyde, riȝt as shepe dismayed,
Disconsolat & confortles y-shent,
Þat eche of hem fleth vn-to his tent.
And þei of Troye suede on þe chas
On hors[e]-bak a wonder huge pas,
And mercyles slowe þem as þei fle,
On euery side, þat rouþe was to se,
With-oute pite or any oþer grace:
For lyke lyouns þei gan hem enchase
Til þei, compelled of necessite,
Constreyned wern þoruȝ her cruelte
To turne ageyn & hem silfe defende.
And þei of Troye doun anoon descende
Of hors[e]-bak, euene vp-on þe pleyn;
And alle attonys—þer was non oþer geyn—
Þei gan þe Grekis proudly to outraye,
And cruelly so to dis[a]maye,
Þat finally þer geyneth no diffence,
So mortal was þe myȝti violence
Of Troyens, þat Grekis so diffoille;
And aldirlast at leiser þei dispoille
Þe Grekis tentis of gold and richesse.
At whiche tyme Troylus gan hym dresse,
And Parys eke doun to her navie
With þritty þousand in her companye,
Kyllynge alle þo, pleynly, þat þei mette,
And on her schippes wylde fire þei sette,
Þat to þe wallis of Troye þe cyte
Men myȝt[e] [wel] þe hydous flawme se.
And all hadde gon to destruccioun,
Nadde Aiax, y-called Thelamoun,
Þoruȝ his manhod and knyȝtly excellence
Come anon and maked resistence
Of þe Grekis, with many worþi knyȝt.
And þo of newe be-gan þe mortal fiȝt
A-twen Troyens and þe Grekis stoute,
Þe rede blood raylyng al aboute
Vp-on þe pleyn, so hydous[ly] þei blede;
And here & þere, boþe in lengþe & brede,
Ded & maymed, and ful pale of siȝt,
Vp-on þe soyle lay many noble knyȝt,
Atwixen hem so cruel was þe hate:
For in her fiȝt to-gidre þei debate
As wylde boris, evene so þei fare,
For non of hem list oþer for to spare.
And in þe felde worþi Thelamoun
Þoruȝ his knyȝthod & his hiȝe renoun
So manly bare hym Grekis to diffende,
Þat no man myȝt in manhod him amende,
Þoruȝ al þe worlde þouȝ men had[de] souȝt;
For he þat day in his person hath wrouȝt
Merueille in armys, þoruȝ his gret[e] myȝt,
Þat, in sothnes, Grekis anoon riȝt
With-outen hym hadde finally be shent,
And her shippes attonys lost & brent,
Þoruȝ þe pursut of Paris þilke day,
And worþi Troylus, þat made swiche affray
Amonge[s] hem þoruȝ his hiȝe prowes,
Þat fifty shippes, Guydo doth expresse,
Wer lost & brent or þat Thelamoun
To reskuse cam with his knyȝtes doun
Vn-to þe se, þe remenaunt for to save.
But for al þat, Troyens þat day haue
Þe hiȝer hond of þis mortal fiȝt,
Þoruȝ þe force and þe grete myȝt
Of Troylus only, whiche hath so many slayn
Of þe Grekis, in soþ, þat þei were fayn
Hem to withdraw, and þe felde to lete,
For in abidyng þei fond ful vnswete.

Howe þe Kynge of Trace kam to þe tente of Achile, and exortyd hym to take the felde.

Wherfore, þei gan for to lese her place,
Amonge whiche þe kynges sone of Trace,
Þat Heber hiȝte, wounded to þe deth,
Þat he myȝt vnneþe drawe his breth,
With a spere in his brest stikynge,
To Achilles he cam in compleynyng
Vn-to his tent, euene þere he lay,
Whiche in þe feld was nat al þat day
For the sake only of Polycene,
Þe love of whom was so sharpe & kene,
Ay at his hert, y-liche grene and newe.
To whom Heber, with a mortal hewe,
Compleyneth sore, arettynge cowardyse,
And in manhod a verray trowandyse,
Þat he þat day myȝt[e] so—for shame!—
Withdrawen him, in hyndering of his name,
Out of þe feld, to hym ful gret repref,
Of þe Grekys seyng þe meschef
Þat þei wern In, and confusioun,
Vp-on þe brinke of her perdicioun—
Abrod þe feld to sen hem so lye dede,
And list not onys for to taken hede
Of his knyȝthod Grekis to releue.
And while Heber gan hym þus repreve,
And þe spere whiche in his body was
Al sodeynly was drawen oute; allas!
With eye vp-cast in rancour and in Ire,
Ful pitously Heber dide expire
In þe presence of þis Achilles.
And þer-with cam in a sodeyn res
In-to his tent a certeyn knyȝt of his,
Of whom Achilles axeþ how it is
Amonge Grekis, & clerly how it stood.
And he answered, ful Irous in his mood:
“Certis,” quod he, “ful vnhappily;
For þei of Troye han so cruelly
Oure Grekis alle þis day in her fiȝt
Ful shamefully put vn-to þe fliȝt,
So many slayn—allas & wellawaye!—
Þat vnneþe noon ne went away
Vn-hurt-maymed, or with-oute wounde,
So fel on vs Troyens were y-founde.
And of hem eke was swiche a multitude,
Þat I suppose, shortly to conclude,
Þis day þer nas, to myn oppinioun,
Nat left a man with-Inne Troye toun
Þat able was to stonden in bataille,
With spere or swerd his enmy to assaille,
I wene, in soth, but þei comen oute
With vs to fiȝt,—þer was so huge a route
Þat we ne myȝt of force take on honde
In þe feld ageyn[e]s hem to stonde.
But now, my lord, it draweþ vn-to nyȝt,
Þat þei be feynt any more to fiȝt,—
Ȝif it were plesyng to ȝour worþines,
To ȝour manhod & ȝoure hiȝe noblesse
To take on ȝou to ȝoure encres of fame,
For euere-more to ȝete ȝou a name,
And þer-with-al for ȝoure owne glorie,
Perpetuelly to ben in memorie,
To rysen vp and arme ȝow anoon,
And sodeinly [vp-]on hem to goon,
Feble and weyke to make resistence
Ageyn ȝoure manly famous excellence,—
Þer wer no more, but we wer victours
For euere-more, and verray conquerours,
Durynge þe world to ben in remembraunce,
And þei for euere brouȝt vn-to outra[u]nce—
In sothfastnes, I haue of hit no drede.”
But Achilles toke of hym noon hede,
Nor to Heber þat lay aforn hym ded,
Ful colde and starke, of colour like to led,
Nor onys list to ȝeve hym audience,
Nor vn-to hym han his aduertence—
Þer may no word in his hert[e] myne
To þat he seide to maken him enclyne:
For, outerly, evene like he ferde,
As þouȝe he no maner worde ne herde;
For þoruȝ his eris it passed as a soun.
Lo, here þe maner and condicioun,
Þe verray custom & þe pleyn vsaunce
Of þis loveris, hangyng in a trance:—
Honour, worship, manhod, & prowes,
Strengþe, myȝt, fame, and hardines,
Encres of name, vertu, and victorie,
Knyȝthod, noblesse, and in armys glorie—
Alle þese can Loue leyn a-syde:
Swiche is þe myȝt of þe god Cupide,
Whiche hertis hiȝe with his hok can sese—
So loth þei arne, pleynly, to displese
Ouþer in cher or in contenaunce,
In wil or dede or disobeisaunce
To hir þat is her souereyn lady dere.
For, with a loke of hir eyen clere,
She can ful wel daunte[n] al her pride:
For Venus sone so felly can prouyde
His arwys kene to perce nerf & veyne,
And hem enlacen in his firy cheyne,
Þat only þoruȝ his importable charge
Þei ben restreyned for to gon at large;
Whiche cause was þis day, dout[e]les,
Þat þis noble hardy Achilles
Wolde nat, with-outen any wene,
Come in þe feld, for drede of Polycene,
List þat she were offendid in hir herte
Ȝif any þing eskaped or asterte
Þis Achilles, þoruȝ mysgouernaunce.
And whiles he henge þus in balaunce,
Þe Grekis fauȝt with hem of þe toun
Til briȝt Phebus was at goynge doun,
Þat Troyens, of necessite,
For lak of lyȝt entre þe cyte.
And while þat þei homward be repeired,
Lay Dephebus, of his lyf dispeired,
Compleynynge ay on his dedly wounde.
And whan Paris & Troylus han hym founde
In þat meschef, þei gan wepe & crye,
As þei wolde for verray rouþe dye,
With woful noyse and with pitous soun:
Þe salt[e] teris gan to renne doun
On her chekis vp-on ouþer syde;
And whiles þei vppon hym abide,
Þis wounded man gan drawe to his ende,
Whos spirit was redy for to wende
Out of his brest, & his wery gost,
Ful hastely in-to an oþer coste,
With dedly eyen turned vp-so-doun.
Whan þat he knewe by relacioun
Þat Paris hath Pallamydes y-slawe,
Anoon he bad þat þei shulde out drawe
Þe large tronchoun with þe stelen hed;
And þer-with-al anoon he fil doun ded.
And with þe cors þei gan hem fast[e] spede
Toward þe toun: but for it is no nede
Þe dool to write and lamentacioun
Þat maked was for hym and Sarpedoun
Þoruȝ þe cite, &, namly, of þe king
And of þe quene, euere in on wepynge,
Of his breþren and his sustres dere,
It were but veyne to rehersen here.

How Priamus burede Dephebus and Sarpedone, and howe the Grekes choyes Agamenon Emperoure.

But Priam hath with gret[e] dilligence
Twey tombes made, of royal excellence,
For Dephebus and kyng Sarpedoun,
With many ymage graven inviroun,
And many knotte korven here & ȝonder,
And buried hem but a litel assounder,
Lyke þe custom of her rites olde.
And whiles þei þe feste halwe & holde
Þat called is þe feste funeral,
Þe Grekis han do made in special
A riche tombe to þe worþi kyng
Pallamydes, and for his buriyng
Solempnely maked ordynaunce
Amonges hem, as it was vsaunce;
And with gret dool & pitous heuynes
Þei han þis kyng of gret worþines
Rially brouȝt to his sepulture.
And for þei myȝt longe nat endure
With-oute an hed and a gouernour,
Þei chosen han to her Emperour,
By on assent and affeccioun,
Þe worþi kyng, wyse Agamenoun.
And after [þat] þei made no lettynge,
—Þei of Troye—þe nexte day suynge,
With her wardis in-to þe feld to goon,
Fully purposed to fiȝt[e] with her foon;
And Grekis manly in þe face hem mette.
But worþi Troylus so hem ouersette,
Þat Greke was noon, shortly for to telle,
Þilke day a-forn hym myȝt[e] dwelle,
So cruelly he gan hem for to chase:
For where he cam or rode in any place,
Þei fled his swerd, of her lif in doute,
His ȝonge knyȝtes rydynge hym aboute,
Swyche as he was vsant for to lede;
And euere in oon þe Grekis blod þei shede,
Whiche lyke a streme disteyned al þe pleyn.
And al þis while was so huge a reyne,
Þe same day, and so huge a myst,
Þat euery man hath his felawe myst,
Specially vp-on þe Grekis syde:
Þat for þe storme and her woundes wide,
And for þe manhod of þis Troyan knyȝt,
Worþi Troylus, so ȝong, so freshe & lyȝt,
Þei were coact, þoruȝ his cruelte,
Maugre her myȝt, for drede of deth to fle
To her tentis socour for to fynde,
Troyens ay pursuyng be-hynde
Ful mortally, with a sterne pas;
But for þe storme þei cessen of þe chas,
And home repeire to her cyte strong.
Til on þe morwe, þat þe larke songe,
Þat Troylus eft, most manly in bataille,
Þe Grekis new cast hym for tassaille;
And Guydo writ, þis ȝonge champioun,
Þilke day as he rod vp and doun
Amonge his foon, þoru his hiȝe renoun—
Þat þere nas kyng, duke, erle nor baroun,
With his swerd, where-so þat he wende,
Þat of her lyf he made a mortal ende,
Al þe while þat Phebus gaf his lyȝt;
Til at þe laste þat it drowe to nyȝt,
Þat he to Troye repeireth manfully.
And sevene dayes, suynge by and by,
Þis lif he ladde, with his knyȝtes felle,
Vp-on Grekis, as Guydo can ȝow telle;
Ay newe & newe he gan hem so confounde,
His cruel swerd was so kene grounde,
Þat þei ne myȝt in his mortal tene
Aforn his siȝt abide nor sustene,
Nor þe vengaunce þat he on hem toke:
For where he rod þe weye þei forsoke,
In his traas þe rengis were so rede
Of hem, in soth, þat in þe feld lay dede.
For whiche slauȝter and confusioun,
Þe Grekis newe sent[e] to þe toun
For a trew to Priamus þe kyng;
And he anoon graunted her axyng
For two monþes, fully be thassent
Of alle þe lordis of his parlement.
Wher-of þei made ful relacioun—
Thenbassatours—to Agamenoun;
And to her loggyng after furþe þei went.
But how þat he vn-to Achilles sent
Þe mene while his messageris wyse,
So as I can, I shal anoon deuyse.

Achilles kept his Tent, and in no wyes wolde fight agayns þe Troians, for þe love of Polycene; for the which, Agamenon, with þe princes of Grece, kam to viset hym in his tent.

Agamenoun, as Guydo list endyte,
His lordis sent Achilles to visite
For certeyn causes, like as ȝe shal here,
Whiche in þe story be rehersid here.
And with Vlixes and worþi Diomede,
Duke Nestor went, pleynly, as I rede,
To fyn only, by her conseillynge
In-to his hert þat þei myȝt[e] bringe
And induce hym to han a fantasie
To be willy, þoruȝ his chiualrie,
With hem to stonde as he haþ do to-forn,
Þat han so many of her men y-lorn
For lake only of his [hiȝe] presence.
And Achilles with digne reuerence
Reseyved hem, & with riȝt knyȝtly chere.
And after þat, whan þei wer set y-fere
Like her degre anoon in audience,
Wyse Vlixes, ful of elloquence,
Gan his tale prudently deuyse,
To Achilles seyinge in þis wyse:

Vlixes taile to Achile.

“Sir Achilles, most renomed of glorie,
Þoruȝ-oute þe world to ben in memorie,
And of knyȝthod verray sours & welle,
Displese it nat, now þat I shal telle
To ȝoure noble famous excellence,
Nor to ȝour eris late be noon offence
Þat I shal seyn, but of goodlyhede,
Paciently þat ȝe wil take hede
To my wordes, seide of hert and þouȝt,
I ȝow ensure, for I feyne nouȝt;
Þis to seyn, ȝif ȝe remembre wel,
Þe first[e] cause and purpos euerydel
Of þe Grekis—ȝif ȝe haue mencioun—
Was fully set by oon entencioun,
As wel of ȝow as of vs, parde,
Whan we cam firste to þis cite,
Kynges, princes, I excepte noon,
—Of whiche, in soth, to rekne euerychon,
Ȝoure-silf[e] was, to speke in special,
On of þe first & most principal—
Assentid ful how Troye þe cite
Þoruȝ oure manhod distroied shuld[e] be—
Perpetuelly brouȝt vn-to ruyne.
But now of new, I not what doth enclyne
Ȝoure worþines sodeinly to varie,
An[d] to oure purpos for to be contrarie:
Considerid first of ȝow þat ben so sage
Þe wronges done & þe gret damage
In Grekis lond of hem of þe toun,
Conspirynge ay to oure distruccioun
—Ȝif ȝe aduerte wysly in ȝoure þouȝt—
Þat slay[e]n han and to an ende brouȝt
Ful many worþi, siþen go ful ȝore,
And of tresour, þat no man may restore,
Dispoiled vs, & brouȝt in gret distresse,
Oure goodes rauȝt, oure gold & oure richesse,
Oure shippes brent, þoruȝ her cruelte!
And to al þis, allas, ȝe list nat se,
Now þat þei ben (whiche may not be delaied)
Þoruȝ ȝour manhod finally outtraied,
Sith ȝe han slayn her hope, her suffisance,
Hector, in whom was al her affiaunce,
Fully her trust and diffence also,
And Dephebus also is ago,
And likly arn more to ben appaired
Fro day to day, and finally dispeired,
So frowardly Fortune on hem lowreth:
And now ȝoure honour & ȝour fame floureth
In his worship, and ȝoure hiȝe renoun
Atteyned hath the exaltacioun
And hiȝest prikke of Fortunys whele,
It were gret wronge, and ȝe loke wele,
Of wilfullnes for to ben vnkynde
To hir þat ȝe so frendly to ȝou fynde,
Or to be froward while she is benygne,
By influence graciously tassygne
Hir spokes meue vn-to ȝoure plesaunce,
And hap to tourne with plente on ȝour chaunce,
After whos help ȝou nedeþ nat to calle.
Wherfore, allas, whi wil ȝe suffer passe
Ȝoure noble fame, of verray wilfulnes,
While it is hiest in his worþines?
Ȝoure knyȝtly prudence it shold not asterte!
Of whiche þing euery gentil herte
Sholde haue rouþe and compassioun.
Wherfore we praie, of discrecioun,
Þat ȝe ȝou shape þis purpos to amende,
And þat ȝe wolde of hert[e] condescende
With vs to stonde knyȝtly in þis werre,
By ȝoure manhod, þat is spoke of so ferre,
Þat ȝour renoun to þe worldis ende
Reported be, wher-so þat men wende,
Perpetuelly, by freshnes of hewe
Day by day to encrese newe,
Þat þe triumphe of þis hiȝe victorie
Be put in story and eke in memorie,
And so enprented, þat forȝetilnes
No power haue by malis to oppresse
Ȝoure fame in knyȝthod, dirken or difface,
Þat shyneth ȝit so clere in many place
With-oute eclipsynge, sothly, þis no les—
Whiche to conserve ȝe be now rek[e]les,
Of wilfulnes to cloude so þe lyȝt
Of ȝoure renoun þat whilom shon so briȝt,
Ȝoure myȝty hond of manhood to withdrawe.
Considred first how Grekis arn y-slawe
To-fore ȝoure tent, with mortal woundis wide,
Þoruȝ-oute þe feld vp-on euery side,
And haue disdeyn, only for lak of rouþe,
—Allas þe while!—for a litel slouþe
To leie to hond in her meschef at al,
Þat whilom wern her stronge myȝty wal,
Her chef diffence and her champioun,
Souereyn helpe and proteccioun,
For whom ȝe han so ofte shad ȝoure blood,
Ageyn her foon with hem whan ȝe stood,
Ful myȝtely her enmyes to assaille,
With-oute whom þei litel may availle,
In verray soth,—ne noon of vs echon,
But ȝe of knyȝthod list with vs to goon
Ageyn Troyens as ȝe wer wont to do,
As is oure trust and final hope also,
Þat ȝe shal helpe and oure socoure be.
And her-vppon, we praie now þat ȝe
Seye ȝoure avis and ȝoure fulle wille.”

The answer of feres Achile to the mocyoun of wies Vlixes and othere princes of Grece.

And þan anon, þe hardy ferse Achille,
Whanne Vlixes concludid hadde his tale,
With a face for anger ded and pale
Seide euene þus, al openly and pleyn:
“Sir Vlixes, ȝif so be as ȝe seyn,
And han declared, in conclusioun,
Þat oure purpos and entencioun
Was finally to brennen and distroye
Þis royal cite þat is called Troye,
I holde, in soth, (me liketh nat to lye)
Þat oure entent was grounded on folye—
To putte vs alle þoruȝ indiscrecioun,
Of rekleshed and hasty mocyoun,
Of lyfe and deth in swyche Iupartye.
And specially alle þe cheualrye
Of Grekis lond, for so smal a þing—
So many prince & many worþi kyng,
Þat han iupartid her body & her good,
I-lost her lyf, and I-spent her blood,
Whiche myȝt haue ben ful wel at home in pes.
And is nat now þe kyng Pallamydes
I-slawe also, as who seiþ but of newe,
Þat was so wis, so manly and so trewe,—
Of whom þe lyf was of more pris allone
Þan þe cause for whiche þat we echone
Be gadred here, who-so loke a-riȝt.
And of Grekis many a noble knyȝt
Þat haue be slayn, boþe of þe worþiest,
Þe world to seke, and þe manlyest:
For oute of euery lond and regioun,
On Grekis party, & with hem of þe toun,
Of chiualrie and of knyȝthod floure,
To wynne in armys worship & honour,
Assemblid ben, and come fro so ferre,—
Of whiche, in soth, by dures of þis werre
Ful many oon in þe felde is ded;
And, verraily, wiþ-outen any dred,
Þer shal wel more ȝif þe werre last:
For euery day þe noumbre lasseth fast
Of worþi knyȝtes, ded with-oute rouþe,
Þat I dar seyn & conclude of trouþe,
In þis rage, furious and wood,
Ful likly is þat al þe gentil blood
Þoruȝ-out þe world shal distroied be;
And rual folke—and þat wer gret pite—
Shal han lordshipe & holy gouernaunce,
And cherles eke, with sorwe & meschaunce,
In euery lond shal lordis ben allone,
When gentil-men slay[e]n bene echone.
Is nat Hector, þat was so noble a knyȝt,
Þat was þis worldis verray sonne & liȝt,
Of manhood flour, slay[e]n pitously
In þis werre?—in soth, and so myȝt I,
Par auenture, whiche may nat atteyne
To his noblesse, ȝif I shal nat feyne.
For be what way shal we þe deth eschewe,
With al oure myȝt ȝif we it purswe
Fro day to day while þat we lyn here?
Þerfore, shortly, me for to requere,
Touching þe werre, ouþer for to praye,
Is but [in] veyn. & herkene what I seye:
I nat purpose in þis werre or strif
For to iuparte any more my lif,
For leuer I haue þat palled be my name
Þan to be slayn, & han an Idel fame;
For worþines, after deth I-blowe,
Is but a wynde, & lasteth but a þrowe;
For þouȝ renoun & pris be blowe wyde,
Forȝetilnes leith it ofte a-syde
By lengþe of ȝeris and obliuioun,
Þoruȝ envie and fals collucioun.
Þe laude of knyȝthod & of worþines,
Of wysdam eke, & of gentilnes,
Fredam, bounte, vertu, & swiche grace,
Forȝetilnes can dirken and difface;
And, þer-with-al, malys and envie
I-serid hath þe palme of chiualrie
By fals report. Wherfore, I seie, for me,
I wil of wisdam swiche foly lete be,
And in quiete forþe my lyf now lede;
And ouer þis, to ȝou þre I rede
To seke pes with Troyens ȝif ȝe may,
In hasty wyse, wiþ-oute more delay.
Þis is my conseil, platly, to ȝow alle,
Or þat meschef of deth vp-on ȝow falle;
It were wel don þat ȝe token hede,
Boþe Vlixes and þou Dyomede,
And Nestor eke, siþen ȝe be wyse,
To werke, pleynly, lyke as I deuyse.
Þis is þe somme & fyn of myn entent,
And so reporteþ to hym þat haþ ȝou sent.”
And þei anoon, with short conclusioun,
Repeired ben to Agamenoun
With swiche answer as ȝe han herd me seyn,
It nedeth nat to write it new ageyn.
And her-vppon kyng Agamenoun
Lete make anoon a convocacioun
Of his lordis; &, in her presence,
Fro point to point, sothly, in sentence
He hath reheresed how þat Achilles
Was desirous for to han a pes
With hem of Troye, and platly how þat he
For no praier wil in no degre
Ageyn Troyens, with spere no[r] with shelde,
In helpe of Grekis ben armyd in þe feld.
Wherfore, þe kyng, as he þat was ful wys,
Her-vppon axed her avys,
And what hem þouȝte was best for to do
In þis mater, siþen it stood so.
And first of alle spekeþ Menelay,
With angry chere, & seyde, platly, nay,
To han a pes it was nat his entent,
Ne þat he wolde þer-to be of assent,
Siþen þe cite, in conclusioun,
Stood on þe prikke of his distruccioun,
Now þat Hector & Dephebus were dede
Þat whilom wern her trust in euery nede
And her diffence; but now þei arn a-goo—
Fare wel her trust & her hope also,
With-oute more, and al her olde pride,
Þei may nat now but after deþ abide:
“And trusteþ wel, with-oute[n] any les,
Þouȝ it so be þat þis Achilles
Ne helpe vs nat toward oure emprise,
We dar nat drede, in no maner wyse,
With-outen hym [for] to han victorie
By oure manhood & oure owne glorie,—
I am ful sure her-of and certeyn.”
But Vlixes gan replie ageyn;
Nestor also, of sodeyn mocioun,
Contrarie was to his oppinioun,
Affermynge, platly, þat no wonder was
Þouȝ Menelay, sothly, in þis cas
Vn-to [þe] pes wolde nat assent;
For openly þei wiste what he ment,
For he was grounde & rote of al þe werre
And cause also þei comen were so ferre
Oute of her lond,—he & þe quene Eleyne.
And for þe sake only of hem tweyne,
Þe Grekis alle, whiche no man may denye,
Her lyves putte in swiche Iupartye,
For hym & hir, ȝif þe grounde be souȝt;
For wel þei wiste þat he rouȝt[e] nouȝt,
Þis Menelay, what wo þei endure,
So he his wyf myȝt ageyn recure.
And wher he seiþ þat Hector is ded,
He hath an eyr, to speke of manlihed
And of knyȝthod, as it wil be fonde,
And called is Hector þe secounde,—
Worþi Troylus, whiche þat is his broþer;
In al this world is not swiche anoþer
Of worþines, for to reknen al:
For he of Troye is þe myȝti wal
And diffence, now Hector is [a-]goon;—
Ȝe knowen it wel ȝoure silven euerychon,
Ȝif it so be þat ȝe list take hede,—
Whos sharp[e] swerde sore doth vs blede
Euery day in his furious hete,
Amyd þe feld whan we with him mete.
And in stede of worþi Dephebus,
Whiche in his tyme was wonderly famus,
His broþer Paris is now founde at al
In worþines of knyȝthod perigal,
So þat of hem we han non avauntage
In-to þis hour, but raþer gret damage,
To reknen al, siþen we be-gonne:
Þis verray soth, we haue but litel wonne,
But we ar lykly alwey more to lese
Ȝif we contune; but siþe we may chese,
It wer holsom to lyven in quiete,
To han a pes, and þis werre lete,
By oon assent, siþen ȝe be wyse.”

Howe the Grekes had broke ther sege, ne had þe exortacyon ybe of þe Troyan traytour Calchas.

And with þat word, Calchas gan to rise,
Þe Troyan traytour, with a pale chere
For verray Ire, & seide as ȝe shal here:
“A, worþi princes, what þinke ȝe to done,
To chaunge so, lyk as doth þe mone,
Ȝoure olde purpos & ȝour first entent,
Ageyn ȝe wil and comaundement
Of þe goddis, þat euery þing gouerne
By purviaunce, who-so can discerne.
Allas, allas, whi nyl ȝe at þe leste
Credence and feith ȝeven to her heste,
Whiche in no wyse may nat be fallible:
For, in soth, it wer an impossible,
Outterly, but Troye þe cite
Of ordinaunce and necessite,
Mut be distroied hen[ne]s but a lyte,
Ȝif ȝoure slouþe be it nat to wyte,
So þat victorie, worship, and honour,
And final palme eke of þis labour,
To be reported on water & on lond,
Reserued ben hooly to ȝoure hond,
In ȝoure purpos ȝif ȝe forþe contune,
And hindre nat of foly ȝoure fortune.
Þis is in soth, I dar it wel conclude,
And perllous is þe goddis to illude
Of necligence or slouþe wilfully.
Wherfore, I rede þat now manfully,
Of herte & þouȝt, & of ful vnite,
Platly deuoidynge al ambyguyte,
To sette vppon, & knyȝtly to reswme
Ȝoure force ageyn, fully to conswme
Ȝoure cruel foon; & late be shet with-oute
Wanhope & drede, dispeir & euery doute,
Castynge of peril, slouþe & cowardyse;
And lete manhod outterly dispise
Al drede of deth, þat causeþ hertis feinte
With cowardyse for to ben atteynte,
Þat finally, as goddis han be-hiȝt
Þoruȝ prescience of her eternal myȝt,
To victorie þat ȝe shal atteyne
Lyke ȝoure desyre,—þer is no more to seyne.”
And whan Calchas, in conclusioun,
Þis fals[e] traytour vn-to Troye toun,
Þe Grekis had þoruȝ his wordis faire,
Touching þe werre, put out of dispaire,
Of hert al oon [þei] caste hem to fulfille
Hooly his counseil, þouȝ so be þat Achille
Be froward [ay] to helpe hem in her nede—
Þei ȝaf no force, & toke of it non hede;
But euerychon þei hem redy make,
As ȝe shal here, þe feld in hast to take.

Aftir the trewes, the Troyans and þe Grekes resumede the felde, in þe which the Grekis might not susteyne against þe swerde of Troylus; for þe which Agamenon sent for a trewe of vj monethes.

The trew[e]s passid of þe monþes tweyne,
In-to þe feld þe Grekis hem ordeyne;
And þei of Troye ageyn hem issen oute.
And worþi Troylus with an huge route
Þe Grekis gan alderfirst assaille;
And with his swerd he made first to raile
Þe rede blod þoruȝ her harnes briȝt,
Þat as þe deth þei fled[de] fro his siȝt:
For he þat day þoruȝ his cruelte
Cast hym fully avenged for to be
Vp-on þe deth of Hector, outterly.
And as Dares reherseth specially,
A þousand knyȝtes þis Troyan champioun
Þat day hath slayn, ridyng vp & doun,
As myn auctor, Guydo, list endite—
Saue after hym I can no ferþer write,
In his boke he ȝeveth him swiche a name—
Þat by his manhod & his knyȝtly fame
Þe Grekis alle wer put vn-to þe fliȝt
Al þilke day, til it drowe to nyȝt.
And on the morwe in þe daw[en]ynge,
Þe Grekis han, at Phebus vp-rysynge,
I-armed hem with gret dilligence,
Ageyn Troyens to stonden at diffence.
Amonges whom þat day, as I rede,
So wel hym bar worþi Diomede,
Þat many Troyan þoruȝ his cruelte
Hath loste his lyf, til Troilus gan to se
Þis Diomede in þe feld ridyng,
To whom anoon, with-oute more lettyng,
With his spere þrowe in-to þe reste,
Þis Troilus rod, & hit hym oon the breste
So myȝtely, þat of verray nede
Doun of his hors he smet Dyomede,
Al-be of wounde he had[de] no damage.
And furiously Troilus in his rage,
Of envie gan hym to abreide,
Whan he was doun, þe love of Cryseide,
Of his deceit and his trecherie.
And Grekis þan fast[e] gan hem hye,
Amonge the hors in meschef where he lay,
To drawe him oute in al þe hast þei may;
And on a sheld, brosed & affraied,
Þei bare him hom, so he was dismaied
Of þe stroke, home vn-to his tent.
And Menelay þe same while haþ hent
A myȝty spere tavenge Dyomede,
And to Troilus fast[e] gan hym spede,
Fully avysed to vnhorsen hym anon.
But Troylus first made his stede goon
So swyfte a course toward Menelay,
Þat he anoon at þe erþe lay,—
So myȝtely he hit hym with his spere,
Þat shelde & plate myȝt[e] hym nat were,
To sauen hym from a mortal wounde.
But his knyȝtes, anon as þei him founde,
Oute of þe pres whan þei had hym rent,
Þei bar hym hom to his owne tent,
Þe Grekis ay stondyng in distresse
Þoruȝ þe knyȝthod & þe hiȝe prowes
Of þis Troylus, whiche haþ hem so beleyn,
On euery part, where he rod on þe pleyn,
Til vn-to tyme þat Agamenoun
In-to þe felde is avaled doun
With many worþi abouten his baner,
Þat shon ful shene ageyn þe sonne cler.
And with his knyȝtes [hym] ridyng enviroun
He sore enchased hem of Troye toun,
Woundeth & sleth & put hem to þe fliȝt,
Hym silfe aquytynge lik a manly knyȝt;
But for al þat, with-oute more abood,
Amongis Troyens fersely as he rood,
Þis worþi kyng, grete Agamenoun,
With a spere Troylus smet hym doun
Maugre his Grekis—þer geineþ no socour.
And whan þei sawe her lord, her gouernour
In swyche meschef at þe grounde lyende,
Þei hent hym vp, & made hym to ascende,
Þoruȝ her manhod, on his stronge stede.
And he of wyt gan to taken hede,
And consider wysly in his þouȝt
In what disioynt Troylus had hem brouȝt,
And how his Grekis, for al her gret[e] pride,
To-forn his swerde myȝt[e] nat abide—
He prudently, of hiȝe discrecioun,
Þis noble knyȝt, kyng Agamenoun,
As he þat hadde ay his aduertence
On gouernaunce, þoruȝ his prouidence,
Whanne he sawe his Grekis gonne faille
And wexe feble to stonden in bataille
For lak of stuf þat shulde hem recounforte,
Ful prudently he made hem to resorte,
Eueryche of hem, to his owne tent.
And after þat he hath to Priam sent
For a trew, to Troye þe cite,
For sixe monþes, ȝif it myȝt[e] be.
And by his conseil, Priamus þe kyng,
With-oute abood granted his axyng,
Al-be þat somme, as Guydo list endite,
Were euel apaied so longe to respite
Her mortal fon, in any maner wyse;
But ȝit his graunt, as ȝe han herd deuise,
Stood in his strengþe fully, as I rede.

Howe doubyle Cresseyd, agayns the wylle of here Fader, went to vyset Dyomede in his Tente.

In whiche tyme, of verray womanhede,
Cryseyde list no lenger for to tarie,
Þouȝ hir fader wer þer-to contrarie,
For to visite, and to han a siȝt
Of Diomede, þat was be-come hir knyȝt,
Whiche had of Troylus late kouȝt a wounde.
And in his tent whanne she haþ hym founde,
Benignely, vp-on his beddis syde
She set hir doun, in þe silve tyde,
And platly cast in hir owne þouȝt,
Touchinge Troylus, þat it was for nouȝt
To lyue in hope of any more recure,
And þouȝt she wolde for no þing be vnsure
Of puruyaunce, nor with-oute stoor:—
She ȝaf anoon, with-outen any mor,
Hooly hir herte vn-to Diomede.
Loo! what pite is in wommanhede,
What mercy eke & benygne routhe—
Þat newly can al her olde trouthe,
Of nature, late slyppe a-syde
Raþer þanne þei shulde se abide
Any man in meschef for hir sake!
Þe change is nat so redy for to make
In Lombard Strete of crowne nor doket—
Al paie is good, be so þe prente be set:
Her lettre of change doth no man abide!
So þat þe wynde be redy and þe tyde,
Passage is ay, who-so list to passe!
No man is lost þat list to seke grace—
Daunger is noon but counterfet disdeyn;
Þe se is calme and fro rokkis pleyn:
For mercyles neuer man ne deide
Þat souȝt[e] grace!—recorde of Cryseyde,
Whiche finally hath ȝoven al hir herte
To Diomede in reles of his smerte,
And praide hym to be riȝt glad & liȝt,
And called hym hir owne man, hir knyȝt,
And hym behiȝt, raþer þan he deie,
In euery þing how she wolde obeye,
Þat were honest, hym to do plesaunce:
For leuere she had chaunge & variaunce
Were founde in hir þanne lak of pite,
As sittyng is to femynyte,
Of nature nat [to] be vengable,
For feith nor oþe, but raþer mercyable
Of mannys lyf stondyng in distresse.
Her-of no more; for now I wil me dresse
To telle forþe in my translacioun
Ceriously how Agamenoun
Duryng þe trewe & þe tyme of pes
Hym siluen went vn-to Achilles,
Besechynge hym som rewarde to haue,
Of his knyȝthod Grekis for to saue,
And his presence no more to withdraw,
To suffren hem so mortally be slawe
Of her enmyes, pompos and elat.
But Achilles, alweye indurat,
I-liche newe, boþe in herte & þouȝt,
From his purpos platly chaungeþ nouȝt,
Fully enclyned for to han a pes.
But for-as-moche as þis Achilles
Of enternes and affeccioun
So lovynge was to Agamenoun,
He vn-to hym graunted at þe leste
A gret parcel touchinge his request:
Þis to seyn, þat þis Achilles
Granteth to hym hys Mirundones,
Ful knyȝtly men, only in his absence
With [þe] Grekis to make resistence
In þe felde ageyn hem of þe toun.
For whiche grant, kyng Agamenoun
And duke Nestor þankyd hym of herte.
But he, alweye contunyng in his smerte
For þe loue of feire Polycene,
Ne knewe no geyn to his woundis grene,
But dispeired, languyssheþ euer in oon.
And whan þe trews passed wern & gon,
Vp-on a day, þe morwe, ful benygne,
Achilles his knyȝtes dide assigne
Þe feld to take with Agamenoun;
And, as þe story makeþ mencioun,
He ȝaf to hem bendys fresche of red,
Þat men may knowe by her manlyhed
With whom þei wern with-holde in special.
And lyke a man dedly and mortal,
In his tent Achilles abood,
In-to þe feld from hym whan þei rood,
Only for dool þei shuld[e] from him twynne,
In his absence a werre to be-gynne
Maugre his wille ageyn hem of þe toun;
But forþe þei went with Agamenoun
Vp-on Troyens, sterne and ful of pride.
But with hem mette on þe toþer syde
Þe manly knyȝtes of Troyanyshe blod,
Whiche wern on hem so furious and wod,
Þat cruelly þe Grekis þei oppresse,
So þat abak for fere þei gan hem dresse—
Þei wern on hem so inly fel & kene—
Til þat þe duke þat lord was of Atthene
Entrid in þe Grekis to diffende.
But vp-on hym, vnwarly, or he wende,
Cam myȝty Troylus lyk a wod lyoun,
And from his stede anoon he bar him doun;
And, after þat, he put hym so in pres,
Til he mette with Mirundones,
And of hem slowe þat day ful many on.
And so fer in Troylus is y-goon,
Þat he Grekis putte outterly to fliȝt
Þoruȝ his knyȝthod, til hit drow to nyȝt:
For from his swerd no ransoun myȝt hem borwe.
And Guydo writ, þat on þe nexte morwe
Ful mortal was þe slauȝter on owþer syde,
Amyd þe feld as þei to-gyder ryde,
Of manly knyȝtes, þat wonder was to sene.
And, as þei fauȝt, þe kyng Philymene
With helpe only of Pallydamas
Taken hath þe worþi kyng Thoas,
And gan hym lede toward Troye toun;
But Mirundones on hym come doun
Wonder proudly, & after gan to swe,
And þoruȝ her myȝt Thoas þei reskwe,
And hym delyuere, for þei wer so stronge.
But Troylus þan hurtled hem amonge
Furiously, lyke a champioun,—
Now her, now þer, cast & þrewe hem doun:
Somme he slowe, & somme he made blede,
Til cruelly þei slow his myȝty stede
Whiche he sat on; and ȝit, neuerþeles,
He fauȝt on fote ageyn Mirundones,
Þat had caste Troylus to haue take.
But Parys tho gan hem so awake,
With his breþer þat a-boute hym rood,
Þat in þe place where as Troylus stood
Vp-on his fet, but hym silfe allone,
Of Mirundones þei slow many one,—
Þat of knyȝthod, þoruȝ her manlyhede
Þei vn-to hym brouȝt anoþer stede,
Amyd his foon, and made hym to ascende.
And he ful knyȝtly gan hym silfe diffende,
Beset with Grekis in þe silfe stounde,
Þat neuere ȝit a better knyȝt was fonde:
Þei felt it wel, þei þat wer his foon.
But þanne his broþer, called Emergaron,
So as he fauȝt, puttynge him silfe in pres,
Was slayn, allas! amonge Mirundones.
Þe deth of whom, in a cruel ire,
Troylus with anger newe set a-fire,
Pleynly purposeth tavenge ȝif he may;
And with his swerd he gan to make way,
And Parys ay fast[e] by rydynge,
And alle his breþer vp-on him awaitynge,—
Whiche alle I-fere wer so mercyles,
As I fynde, vp-on Mirundones,
Þat of force and necessite
Þei wer compelled pleynly for to fle,
Troylus on hem was so furious,
So vengable eke and so dispitous,
Þat he hem ȝaf many mortal wounde.
And ȝit, in soth, þat day þei wer founde
Noble knyȝtes, & quit hem wonder wel:
For þei þe crafte knewe[n] euerydel
Longynge to armys, of hem as I rede.
But for al þat, he made her sydes blede
Þoruȝ þe maille & her plates shene,
Þat þei ne myȝt, pleynly, nat sustene
Þe swerd of Troylus, hem chasyng oueral,
Al-be þei kepte hem clos as any wal—
Hool to-gidre, and went nat asounder.
But Troylus ay hem chaseth her & ȝonder,
And seuered hem maugre al her myȝt.
Til in-to feld with many worþi knyȝt
Cam Menelay and kyng Agamenoun,
Vlixes eke, and cruel Thelamoun,
And Diomede, whiche of his woundis grene
Recured was, as seiþ myn auctor clene;—
And on Troyens sodeinly þei falle
With her wardis and her knyȝtes alle:
And þo began þe fiȝt[e] to renewe
On euery half, þat with blody hewe
Þe platis briȝt wern of newe steyned;
And þei of Troye so manly han hem peyned
Ageyn her foon in þis myȝty stryf,
Þat many Greke was berafte his lyf;
And where þei wern most myȝti in batail,
Troylus cam in, & gan hem to assail
On euery parte, with many blody wounde,
And by his knyȝthod gan hem so confounde
Þat ay þei fled, so þei wern aferd
Þe mortal strokis of his sharpe swerd,
Her dedly foo and destruccioun.
And þis contuneth til kyng Thelamoun,
By his manhod, whan þat he beheld,
Þe Grekis made recure ageyn þe felde,
And gan Troyens assaille wonder sore.
And þo be-gan þe slauȝter more & more
On eche-a-side, til Troylus newe ageyn
Þe Grekis hath so fersly ouerleyn,
Mirundones and hem euerychon,
Aforn his swerd þat he made hem goon
To her tentis, and þe feld forsake.
And with his hond þat day he haþ take
An hundrid knyȝtes þat cam in his woye,
Þoruȝ his prowesse, & sent hem in-to Troye.
And euere in on gan so to enchase
Mirundones, þat þei lost her place,
And to Achille, liggynge in his tent,
Þei repeire, for-wounded & to-rent,
Her harneis broke, boþe plate & maille.
And of noumbre, I fynde, þat þei faille
An hundrid knyȝtes, slayn & ded, allas,
Þat after wer y-founde in þe taas
Amyd þe feld, þoruȝ girt with many wounde
Of Troylus swerd,—Hector þe secounde.
Wher-of Achille, whan he had a siȝt,
So hevy was al þe next[e] nyȝt,
In his bed walwynge to and fro,
Deuoide of slepe for constreint of his wo,—
At his hert his wounde was so kene,
What for his men & faire Polycene,
Wetyng wel, ȝif he dide his peyne
To be vengid, he shulde nat atteyne
In no wyse vn-to his desire.
And þus he brent in a double fyre
Of loue and Ire, þat made him siȝe sore;
But for cause loue was þe more,
He was a-ferd ageyn hem of þe toun
In his persone to done offencioun,
List Priamus and Eccuba þe quene
Offendid wern, & namly Pollycene.
And þus he stood in a double wer,
Þat at his hert sat hym wonder ner,
With many wonder diuerse fantasie,
As haue louers þat be in point to dye:
Riȝt euene-so fareth þis woful man,
For verray wo þat no red ne can,
So entriked þat he wende dye,
Of his recure he knewe no better weye.
And while he laie þus in his þrowes white
(Liche as Guydo pleinly list endite,
And þe story makeþ mencioun),
Þat dayes seuene þei of Troye toun,
To encres & awgment of her sorwe,
With þe Grekis metten euery morwe:
Þat þoruȝ þe force of her boþer myȝt,
On ouþer part was slay[e]n many knyȝt.
And al þis while lay þis Achilles,
Of Grekis deth y-liche rec[e]les,
For loue only, & toke no maner hede
Who-so were hool or mortally doth blede,
Or who þat pleyneth with his woundis large—
Hym þouȝt it was no parcel of his charge,
So moche he haþ on oþer þing to þenke,
Þat ofte he waketh whan he sholde winke,
Þouȝtful ay and ymagynatyf,
And verray wery of his owne lyf.
Til on a day, kyng Agamenoun,
Seynge þe deth and destruccioun
On Grekis halfe, with-oute remedie,
To Troye sent by enbassatrye
For a trewe certeyn dayes space,
But he myȝt þer-of haue no grace
Lenger tyme, platly, to endure,
Þan for leyser of þe sepulture
Of worþi knyȝtes þat wer ded to-forn,
In þe feld on ouþer part y-lorn,
Which in þe taas ful besely þei souȝt.
And after þis, pleynly, how þei wrouȝt
Duryng þe sege with gret violence,
I shal discrive with ȝoure pacience.

Howe the Troyans, the trewes endede, made so mortale were vpone the Grekes that, thorght the manhode and the blody swerde of Troylus, the Grekes wer brought ful nygh to outterance.

The cruel force & þe mortal Ire
Of Martis myȝt, alweie set a-fire
With newe envie, gonne of old hatrede,
Brennynge in hertis hoot as any glede,
Atwixe Grekis and Troye þe cyte,
Whiche likly is nat staunched for to be
Til deth consume with his mortal darte
Ful many worþi vp-on ouþer parte,
Texecute, allas! by fynal fate
Eche on oþer þenvious dedly hate,
Whiche þei ne myȝt by destyne remewe
Nor for parchas at liberte eschewe:
For Antropos wil suffre it be noon oþer,
Þat is maistresse & guyer of þe rother
Of Dethis ship, til al go vn-to wrak!
And Fortune gan turne hir face bake
Of hiȝe disdeyn fro Troye þe cite,
As in þis story riȝt sone ȝe shal se.
For whan þe trews þat þei had[de] take
Wer werid oute, þei gan [hem] redy make
—Þe proude Grekis,—& in-to felde þei gon
Vp-on a morwe, whan Phebus briȝt[e] shon,
Armyd ful shene, eueryche at his devis.
And Menelay first mette with Parys,
Þilke day, in story as I rede,
And eche of hem smet oþer of his stede;
At whyche tyme, daunȝ Pallydamas
To Vlixes rod a sterne pas,
And eche at oþer, of cruel enmyte,
With stiffe swerdis gan to-gidre fle,
Þat nouþer was of manhod for to wyte.
And with a spere, squared for to byte,
Þe myȝty duke, called Meneste,
Rood lyne riȝt, þat alle myȝt[e] se,
To Anthenor, þe Troyan ful of pride,
And from his sadel cast hym doun a-side,
In his furie & his hatful tene.
And þo in al haste cam kyng Phylymene,
Only in helpe of hem of þe toun,
And gan assaille kyng Agamenoun
Þoruȝ his knyȝthod & his hardynes,
Þat he him had brouȝt in gret distresse,
To outter meschef and confusioun,
Nadde only be þat kyng Thelamoun
Ful proudly cam hym [for] to reskewe,
And after sore gan for to purswe
With a spere vp-on Philomene,
And from his horse he leide hym on þe grene,
Maugre his force, þe story telleþ þus,
For he to hym was mortally Irous.
And after þat, ȝonge Archilogus
A mortal cours ran vn-to Brumvs,
Oon of þe sonys of Priamus þe kyng,
Ȝonge and delyuer, & best in his lykyng;
But he hym smet with so gret a myȝt
Þat he fil ded, þis freshe lusty knyȝt:
Þe deth of whom, whan þei of Troye espie,
Þei made a shouȝt, & pitously gan crye
Of woful routh, & his deth compleyne,
Til þe noise gan outterly atteyne
To Troylus eris, platly, where he rood.
And he no lenger after þat abood,
But to þe place felly gan aproche,
And with his swerd for to sette a-broche,
With-oute rouþe, þe Grekis hatful blood,
And, mercyles, al þat hym with-stood
He slowe þat day, by cruel auenture,
Þat Greke was noon, þe whiche myȝt endure
To-forn his swerd—he gan hem so oppresse:
For of knyȝthod and [of] hiȝe prowesse
He hadde hem putte outterly to flyȝt,
Nad[de] ben þe manhod & þe myȝt
Of Mirundones, whiche al þat day
By oon assent vp-on Troylus lay,
Wher-of he was ful malencolius;
And of corage & manhod most famus,
He ne list no lenger for to lette,
B[ut] al attonys vp-on hem he sette,
And furiously gan amonge hem ryde.
And somme he smet euene þoruȝ þe syde,
Þoruȝ the body, & some þoruȝ þe herte;
And with his swerd þoruȝ doublet & sherte,
Þoruȝ sheld and plate, & þoruȝ haberioun
He percid hath, and like a wood lyoun
He slow þat day of hem many oon,
Þat maugre hem þei fledden euerychon,
With þe Grekis, eueryche to his tent.
And þei of Troye after hem be went
Swyftly on horse, til þei han hem take;
And swiche a morder of Grekis þer þei make,
Þat finally þer was no bet reskus
But only deth, so passyngly confus
Þe Grekis wern at meschef desolat,—
Troilus so narwe brouȝt hem to chek-maat,
Þat þei koude no better remedie
But hidously for to wayle and crye,
To deth forwounded, with a grisly chere.

Howe Achilles for-gat the love of Polycene when he sawe the Grekis at þe poynt of confusyon.

Þat Achilles, whan he gan first here
Þe dredful noise and þe woful soun,
Þat caused was by refleccioun
Of eir a-ȝen—who-so koude it knowe—
In rochis harde and kauernys lowe,
Lyke as it wer o word spoke of two,
Þat men ar wont to callen an Ecko—
So confus was þe lamentacioun
On Grekis side;—of whiche þe dedly soun
So pitously to Achilles is ronne,
Of hem þat laye ageyn þe hote sonne,
With mortal woundes ȝeldinge vp þe breþe,
With rowmble & swowe resownyng in-to deþe—
Swiche a noise Grekis made þere.
And what it mente Achilles dide enquere,
And what þe cause was of her clamour;
And þei tolde hym, for lak of socour
Þe Grekis wern eche in his tentorie
Of Troylus slayn, so þat þe victorie
Goth finally with hem of Troye toun
For euere-more, in conclusioun:
So many Greke lay slay[e]n in his tent,
Gaping vpward, þat haþ his blood y-spent,
Þoruȝ þe constreynt of his woundes smerte.
And while Achilles þis meschef gan aduerte,
Ful sodeinly þer cam to hym a man,
Þe whiche his tale euene þus be-gan:
“Allas,” quod he, “how many ȝe sustene
To sen ȝour men her vp-on þe grene
A-fore ȝoure face slayn & ly[e]n dede,
And liste nat onys for to taken hede,
But stonde stille, pensif in ȝoure tent,
Vp-on þe point ȝoure silfe to be shent
In hasty hour, ȝif ȝe here abide:
For fifty þousand knyȝtes here be-side,
Redy armyd in platis and in maille,
Cast hem pleinly attonys ȝou tassaille—
Þis no doute—vn-armyd as ȝe stonde,
But ȝe of knyȝthod manly take on honde
To resiste in þis silfe place,
And like a man to mete hem in þe face.”
For whiche anon, in a cruel mood,
Þis Achilles, like as he were wood,
Armed hym, fomynge as a boor;—
Fare-wel his loue! he set of it no stoor;
Of hasty hete his Ire was so kene
Þat he forgat faire Polycene
And hir bewte, þat whilom made him smerte.
And in a rage vp anoon he sterte,
And toke his stede, as any lyoun wroþe
Ageyns Troyens, & in-to feld he goth:
Lyche a wolfe þat is with hunger gnawe,
Riȝt so gan he ageyn his foon to drawe;
And where he rood, with-oute excepcioun,
He woundeþ, sleþ, kylleþ, & bereth doun—
Now here, now þere—in a lytel þrowe,
Þat þei of Troye gan his swerd [to] knowe,
Whiche was infect of newe with her blood:
For þer was noon as ȝit þat hym with-stood,
So mortally he gan aboute hym leyn
Þe dede bodies endelong þe pleyn.
Til casuelly Troylus gan espie
Þis Achilles, as he caste an eye,
And gan his hors with spores to constreyne,
And rood at hym with al his myȝt & peyne;
But Achilles, of hym war also,
Smette eke his stede & made hym for to go
Toward Troylus in þe silfe tyde.
And with ful cours as þei to-gider ride
Ful lyne riȝt, her speres sharpe whet,
With swiche a myȝt þei han to-gider met,
Of hiȝe disdeyn—þer is no more to seyn,—
Þat to þe grounde þei fel boþe tweyne;
But Achilles kauȝte swiche a wounde
In his body, so depe and so profounde,
Þat long he lay (myn auctour seiþ certeyn)
Or he to helþe restored was ageyn.
And Troilus eke, þoruȝ platis, mail, and al
(As writ Guydo) had a wounde smal,
Whiche vn-to hym dide no greuaunce.
And þus þat day by contynuaunce,
And dayes sixe, swynge by and by,
Þe proude Grekis mette cruelly
Amyd þe feld hem of Troye toun,
To gret damage and confusioun
Of ouþer party, pleinly, þis no nay:
For many worþi was slayn day by day
In her rancour & hertly hoot envie,
—Al-be Guydo doth nat specefye
Noon of her names, pleinly, in his boke,
As ȝe shal fynde ȝif ȝe list to loke.
And al þis while, for þis sodeyn þing
Pensyf & trist was Priamus þe kyng,
Þat Achilles torned hath so clene
His hert away fro ȝonge Polycene,
And for þis chaunge, so sodeyn & so newe,
Þouȝt his behestis wer[e] nat al trewe,
But on deceit and on doubilnes,
On fraude falsly, & newfongilnes,
On sleȝty tresoun and on couert gile,
Or rage of loue, þat lasteth but a while,
Was outterly founded his beheste:
For like a wynde, þat no man may areste,
Fareth a word, discordaunt to þe dede,
Of whiche a wysman take shal noon hede,
But lete passe, as he were rek[e]les.
For, al-be-it þat þis Achilles
Was whilom cauȝt with-in Louys snare,
Hym lyst nat now onys for to spare
Of hyȝe rancour his lady to offende—
It was nat lyche as þei of Troye wende,
Eccuba nouþer Pollycene.
Wher-of Priam spak vn-to þe quene
In an anger, and gan hir to abreide
Þat she hir trust so enterely leyde
On Achilles, þat can so falsly mene;
Wherof ful trist was þis Polycene,
Þat was inclined, with hir eyen clere,
By þe counseil of hir moder dere
To haue be wedded to þis Achilles,
To fyn only þer shuld haue ben a pes
Atwen Grekis and hem of Troye toun.

Howe the next morowe Achilles resumede the sprete of rankoure and envye, and there-vpon, agayns the ordure of knyghthode, proditoriously compassede þe dethe of worthy Troylus.

But al was fals, in conclusioun;
In þe fyn was þe trouþe sene:
For whanne Achilles of his woundes grene
Was fully curid, by a certeyn day,
He gan compasse, in al þat euere he may,
And ymagyne in his envious herte
To be venged of his woundis smerte
Vp-on Troylus, þat stak ay in his mynde,
At avauntage ȝif he myȝt hym fynde
—To hym he bar so passyngly hatrede,
In his herte brennynge as the glede,
Whiche day nor nyȝt may in no degre
Fully be queynt til he avenged be,
Þe hote rancour gan so on hym gnawe—
Avised platly þat he shal be slawe
Of his hondis, whan-so þat it falle.
And on a day to hym he gan calle
Mirundones, his knyȝtes euerychon,
Vp-on a morwe whan þe Grekis gon
To-fore þe toun, in stel armyd briȝt,
Ageyns Troyens in purpos for to fiȝt;
And þei wer come proudly in-to felde
In thoposit, with many riche shelde,
Newly depeynt with colours freshe & fyne,
Vp-on whiche ful briȝt[e] gan to shyne
Firy Titan, gold-tressed in his spere,
At his vprist with his bemys clere,
—Whan þis felle envious Achilles
To his knyȝtes, called Mirundones,
Vp-on Troylus gan hym to compleyne,
Besechynge hem for to done her peyne
Ageyn þis Troylus in þe feld þat day,
To cachen hym at meschef ȝif þei may,
And besely to done her dilligence
On hym to han her ful aduertence,
By oon assent, wher-so þat he ride—
Al oþer þing for to sette a-syde,
And of nouȝt ellis for to taken hede,
Sauf finally ageyn hym to procede
Ȝif þei myȝt cacche hym in a trappe—
With-Inne hem silf Troilus for to clap,
To enclose and sette hym rounde aboute
In al wyse þat he go nat oute.
And whan he were be-set amonge hem alle,
Nat to slen hym, what-so-euere falle,
But þoruȝ her myȝt manly hym conserue
Til he hym silfe come & make hym sterve,
With his swerd, he & noon oþer wyȝt.
Lo! here a manhod for to preise a-riȝt!
Vengaunce of deth, of rancour, & of pride,
Compassid tresoun, knyȝthod leyde a-side!
Worþines be envie slawe,
Falshed alofte, trouþe a-bak y-drawe!
Allas! in armys þat it shulde falle,
Of trecherie þat þe bitter galle
Shuld in þis world in any knyȝt be founde,
Þat be to trouþe of her order bounde!
Allas, allas! for now þis Achilles
Conspired haþ with his Mirundones
Þe deth of oon þe worþiest[e] wyȝt
Þat euere was, and þe beste knyȝt!
Allas! for wo myn herte I fele blede
For his sake, þis story whan I rede.
But whan Fortune haþ a þing ordeyned,
Þouȝ it be euere wailled and compleined,
Þer is no geyn nor no remedie
Þouȝ men on it galen ay & crye
—I can no more touchinge þis matere,
But write forþe, lik as ȝe shal here,
How Mirundones han her lord be-hiȝt,
With al her power & her ful[le] myȝt
To fulfillen his comaundement;
And in-to feld with Grekis þei be went.

Howe Mirmidones grauntede Achilles to vmbilap Troilus, wherthorgh he myght the esylyer scle hym.

But Troylus first, in þe opposit,
Of verray knyȝthood haþ so grete delit
With-oute abood manly hem to mete
—He was y-brent with so feruent hete
Of hardines and [of] hiȝe corage,
Of worþines and of vasselage,
Þat hym ne list no lenger to abide,
But with his folk in be-gan to ride
Amonge Grekis, þis stok of hiȝe renoun.
And with his swerd he woundeþ & bereþ doun,
Sleþ and kylleþ, vp-on euery halfe
So mortally, þat þer may no salue
Her sores sounde; for þer was but deth,
Wher-so he rood, and ȝelding vp þe breth,
So furiously he gan hem enchase;
And made hem lese in a litel space
Her lond echon, and a-forn hym fle:
In Troylus swerd þer was swiche cruelte,
Þat maugre hem he þe feld haþ wonne.
Þe same tyme whan þe briȝt[e] sonne
Hiȝe in þe south at mydday-marke shon,
Euene at þe hour whan it drowe to noon,
Whan Mirundones, gadred alle in oon,
In compasse wyse rounde aboute hym gon,
And furiously, of oon entencioun,
Þei made a cercle aboute hym enviroun,
Whan þei sawe him of help[e] desolaat.
But he of hert nat disconsolat,
Vp-on no side, þoruȝ his manlyhede
Lik a lyoun toke of hem noon hede,
But þoruȝ his famus knyȝtly excellence
As a tigre stondeth at diffence,
And manfully gan hem to encombre,
And [gan] to lasse & discres her noumbre.
And somme he maymeþ & woundeþ to þe deþ,
And somme he made to ȝelden vp þe breþ,
And somme he laide to þe erthe lowe,
And somme he made for to ouer-þrowe,
With his swerd of her blood al wet,
At gret meschef under his horse fet;—
Vp-on his stede sturdy as a wal,
Þis worthy knyȝt, þis man most marcial,
Pleyeth his pley amonge Mirundones,
Hym silf, God wote, allone al help[e]les.

How worth[y] Troylus was besett with iij. thousande Knyghtes; and how knyghtly he defendid him.

But þo, allas! what myȝt his force avail
Whan þre þousand knyȝtes hym assail,
On euery part, boþe in lengþe and brede!
And cowardly first þei slow his stede
With her speris, sharpe & square [y-]grounde:
For whiche, allas! he stont now on þe grounde
With-oute reskus, refut, or socour,
Þat was þat day of chiualrie flour.
But, weillawey, þei han hym so be-set,
Þat from his hed þei smet his basenet,
And brak his harneis, as þei hym assaille,
And seuere of stele þe myȝti strong[e] maille.
He was disarmyd, boþe nekke and hed,
Allas þe whyle! & no wiȝt toke noon hede
Of alle his knyȝtes longynge to þe toun;
And ȝit alweye þis Troyan champioun
In knyȝtly wyse, naked as he was,
Hym silfe diffendeth, til Achilles, allas!
Cam ridynge in, furious and wood.

How worthy Troylus was cowardly slayn by Achilles.

And whan he sawe how Troilus nakid stod,
Of longe fiȝtyng awaped and amaat,
And from his folke allone disolat,
Sool by hym silf at meschef pitously,
Þis Achilles wonder cruelly,
Be-hynde vnwarly, or þat he toke hed,
With his swerd smyteþ of his hed,
And cast it forþe of cursed cruel herte,—
And þouȝt[e] platly, it shuld him nat asterte
To shewe his malys, þis wolfe vnmerciable!
Ful vnknyȝtly to be more vengable
Vp-on þe body þat lay ded and colde
—Allas, þat euer it shuld of knyȝt be tolde,
Wryte, or rehersed, to do so foule a dede,
Or in a boke, allas, þat men shuld rede
Of any knyȝt a story so horrible,
Vn-to þe eris passingly odible:—
For þis Achille of cruelte, allas!
Þe dede cors toke oute of þe taas,
And vengably bond it, as I fynde,
At þe taille of his hors be-hynde,
And hatfully, þat euery wyȝt behilde,
Drowe it hym silf en[de]longe þe feld
Þoruȝ þe rengis and þe wardis alle.

How the translater compleyneth of Achilles for his treson, and deth of worthy Troylus.

But, o allas! þat euere it shulde falle
A knyȝt to bene in herte so cruel,
Or of hatred so dispitous fel
To drawe a man after he were ded!
O þou, Omer, for shame be now red,
And be astonyd, þat haldest þi silfe so wyse,
On Achilles to setten swiche a pris!
In þi bokes for his chiualrie
Above echon dost hym magnyfye,
Þat was so sleiȝty & so ful of fraude!
Whi ȝevest þou hym so hiȝe a pris & laude?
Certis, Omer, for al þin excellence
Of rethoryk and of eloquence,
Þi lusty songes and þi dites swete,
Þin hony mouþe þat doth with sugre flete—
Ȝet in o þing þou gretly art to blame:
Causeles to ȝeue hym swiche a name,
With a title of triumphe and glorie
So passingly putte hym in memorie,
In þi bokes to seyn and write so,
Þoruȝ his knyȝthod he slowe Hectoris two:
First hym þat was lik [vn-]to noon oþer,
And Troilus after, þat was his owne broþer!
Ȝif þou arte meved of affeccioun,
Whiche þat þou hast to Grekis nacioun,
To preise hym so, for þou canst endite,
Þou shuldest ay, for any favour, write
þe trouþe pleinly, & ben indifferent,
And seie þe soþe clerly of entent.
For whan he slowe Hector in þe felde,
He was a-forn disarmyd of his shelde
And besy eke in spoylyng of a kyng:
For ȝif he had be war of his comyng,
He had hym quytte, þoruȝ his chiualrie,
His fals deceit and his trecherie,
Þat he ne had so liȝtly from hym gon.
Troilus also was naked & allone,
Amyd foure þousand closed & be-shet
Whan Achilles haþ his hed of smet,
At his bak of ful cruel herte,
Whan he no þing his tresoun dide aduerte.
Was þat a dede of a manly knyȝt?—
To slen a man forweried in fiȝt,
Feynt of travail, al þe longe day
Amonge so many stondyng at abay,
A kynges sone, and so hiȝe born,
Naked þe hed, his armure al to-torn,
Euene at þe deth on þe silfe point,
At disavauntage, & pleinly oute of Ioynt,
Of his lyf stondyng on þe wrak—
Whan Achilles cam falsly at þe bak,
Assaillynge hym whan he was half ded,
And lyk a coward smot of þanne his hed,
Þat was to-forn hurte & wounded sore!
Wherfor, Omer, preise hym now no more.
Lat nat his pris þi rial boke difface,
But in al haste his renoun oute [a]race:
For his name whan I here nevene,
Verrailly vp vn-to þe heuene
(As semeth me) infect is þe Eyr,
Þe sown þer-of so foule is & vnfair!
For ȝif þat he had hadde his aduertence,
Ouþer þe eye of his prouidence
Vn-to knyȝthod or to worþines,
Ouþer to manhod or to gentilnes,
Or to þe renoun of his owne name,
Or to þe report of his knyȝtly fame,
In any wyse to haue taken hede,
He hadde neuer don so foule a dede:
So vengably [for] to haue y-drawe
A kynges sone after he was slawe!
And namly hym, þat was so gode a knyȝt,
Whiche in his tyme, who-so loke a-riȝt,
Passed Achille, I dar it wel expresse,
Boþe of manhod and of gentilnes.
But for al þat, he is now ded, allas!
Þe deth of whom whan Pallydamas
And Paris eke dide first espie,
Þei ferde, in soth, as þei wolde deye.
And specially, with face ded and fade,
Paris, allas, swiche a sorwe made
For þe constreint of his dedly wo,
Whan he sawe [þat] Troylus was a-go,
And þat he shal neuer a-lyue hym se.
Swiche sorwe also þe Troyan daunȝ Enee
For hym hath made, & many a-noþer mo.
And alle attonys þei to-gidre go,
Þe dede cors to recure ȝif þei maye;
But Grekis wern so fel on hem þat day
Þat her labour was outterly in veyn,
In any wyse þe cors to gete agey[n],
Til þat Menoun, þe noble worþi kyng,
Whiche loued Troilus ouer al[le] þing,
Cauȝt swiche routhe of affeccioun,
Þat he in haste, ferser þanne lyoun,
On his deth caste hym to be wreke.
And first for Ire þus he gan to speke
To Achilles for his hiȝe tresoun:
“O þou traitour! o þou scorpioun!
O þou serpent, ful of trecherie!
Whiche in dishonour of al chiualrie,
Þoruȝ fals engyn hast þis day [y-]slawe
Oon of þe best, þat hadde no felaw
Whan he deide, in þis world a-lyve!
Allas, allas! who may ariȝt discrive
Þi venym hid, þi malis & vntrouþe,
With-oute pite or, vnknyȝtly, rouþe—
To drawe a knyȝt, so gentil & so good,
A kynges sone of so worþi blood,
Þoruȝ-oute þe feld þin horse tail behinde,
Þat after euer [it] schal ben in mynde,
Þis cruel dede and vngentilnes!”
And with þat word, Menoun gan him dresse
Toward Achille, with-oute more arest;
And with a spere smet hym in þe brest,
Enviously of so grete hatrede,
Þat he vnneþe kepte hym on his stede.
And Menoun after pulled oute a swerde,
And cast hym manly to [mete] hym in þe berde,
And rood to hym, fully deuoide of drede,
And swiche a wounde ȝaf him on þe hede,
Þat maugre hym, in many mannys siȝt,
To þe erthe he made hym to aliȝt,
For al his pride, in a mortal traunce:
For of þat wounde he felt[e] swiche greuaunce,
Þat at þe deth he lay an huge whyle,
In a swowe þe space of halfe a myle,
Til Mirundones, assemblid in-to oon,
With gret labour hent hym vp a-noon,
Ful dedly pale, so he gan to blede.
But for al þat, þei sette him on his stede,
And at þe last his hert he kauȝt ageyn,
And smet his horse, of hate & hiȝe disdeyn,
And toward Menoun faste gan hym hiȝe.
But whan þat he his comynge dide espie,
Ful lyke a knyȝt list nat to a-bide,
But hit his horse sharply in þe side
And mette Achilles proudly on þe plein;
And with her swerdis þei to-gidre leyn,
And gan to hurtle on horse-bak I-fere,
With hert envious and dispitous chere.
But kyng Menoun was at avauntage
Of Achilles, for al his wode rage,
In poynt tabrouȝt hym to confusioun,
Til þe wardis of newe come doun
On ouþer part, boþe here & ȝonder,
Whiche sodeinly seuered hem a-sonder.
And as þe story telleth pleinly, þanne
Be-gan þe slauȝter of many manly man:
For nouþer party þe felde nolde leue
Of verray pride, til it drow to eve,
Þat Phebus gan aswagen of his hete,
And gan to baþen, in þe wawes wete,
His briȝt[e] bemys, of þe occian,
Þat fro þe feld hom goth euery man
To her loggyng; & after, seuene daies
Þei fauȝt y-fere, & made no delaies,
Ful mortally, by cruel auenture,
While Achilles besy was to cure
His woundes grene, & his soris sounde.
And þanne he hath a newe tresoun founde,
To be venged vp-on kyng Menon:
For al his wit he sette þer-vppon.
And so þis cruel envious Achilles
I-charged hath his Mirundones
Worthy Menon amonge hem to embrace,
Ȝif þei hym founde in oportune place,
With al her myȝt and her besy þouȝt—
From her hondis þat he eskape nouȝt
Til he hym silfe avenged on hym be.
And so bifel, as þei Menon se,
Þe nexte morwe like a manly knyȝt
Ageyn þe Grekis armyd for to fiȝt
On Troye side as he was wont to do—
Of auenture þat day it fil so,
Þat Achilles and þis Menon mette:
And eche of hem gan on oþer sette
On horse-bak, of ful gret envie;
And so longe in her malencolye,
Myn auctor writ, þei to-gidre fiȝt,
Þat eche made oþer of force to aliȝt.
And whan Menon stood vpon þe grounde,
Mirundones went aboute hym rounde,
As þei wer charged of þe ferse Achille—
Whan he, allas! with-oute Goddes wille,
Disseuered was from his knyȝtes alle.
And at meschef þei vp-on hym falle,
Destitut, allone, and help[e]les,
And in swiche point slowe hym Achilles.
But in þe story like as it is founde,
Þis Menon first ȝaf hym swiche a wounde,
To-forn his deth in al þis felle strif,
Þat he dispeired was, pleinly, of his lyf—
Þis Achilles, for al his false tresoun.
Take hede, Omer, & deme in þi resoun
Þe false fraude and þe sleiȝti gyle,
Þe tresoun caste to-forn with many wyle
Of Achilles; and Iuge now a-riȝt,
Ȝif euere he slowe any worþi knyȝt,
But it were by prodicioun—
Record I take of þe kyng Menoun:
So þat þe title of his laude, allas,
Entriked is with fraude & with fallas,
Þat þou, Omer, maist with no colour,
Þouȝ þou peinte with gold & with aȝour,
In þi writyng his venym nat enclose;
But as þe þorn hid vnder þe rose,
Whos malys ay dareth by þe rote,
Þouȝ þe flour a-boue be fayr & sote,
Þat men þe fraude vnder may nat se—
Of his tresoun ȝe gete no more of me.

The missauenture and discomforde that came amonges the Trogians after the deth of Troylus.

But I wil telle how Grekis do þat day,
—How Meneste and kyng Menelay,
Dyomede and Thelamonyus
On Troyens wern passyng dispitous:
For cruelly with her wardis alle,
In her meschef ben vp-on hem falle,
And made hem fle hom vn-to þe toun.
For whilom Troylus, þat was her champioun,
Is ded, allas! & hath hem now forsake.
Of whom þei haue þe ded[e] body take
Þe same day, wiþ gret diffyculte,
And dolfully in-to þe cyte
Þei han it brouȝt, criyng ofte “allas!”
And for his deth swiche a wo þer was,
Þat I trowe þer is no man a-lyue
Whiche koude ariȝt haluendel discryue
Her pitous wo nor lamentacioun:
Certis not Boys, þat had[de] swiche renoun,
With drery wordis to be-wepe and crye
In compleynynge to philosophie,
Þoruȝ his boke accusynge ay Fortune,
Þat seld or nouȝt can in oon contune—
She is so ful of transmutacioun.
O Stace of Thebes, make no bost nor soun
Of drerinesse for to write at al,
Nouþer of deth nor festis funeral,
Of makyng sorwe nor aduersite;
Late be þi wepynge, o þou Nyobe,
Ȝe suster also of Melleager,
Þat custom han for to fle so fer,
From ȝer to ȝere ȝoure broþer to compleyne;
And þou þat weptist oute þin eyen tweyne,
Edippus, kyng of Thebes þe cyte,
Þou woful Mirre, and Calixtone,
Þat so wel can in rage ȝou be-mene,
And Dido eke, of Cartage quene,—
Lat be ȝoure dool and contricioun!
And Philis eke, for þi Demephoun,
And Echcho eke, þat now dost be-gynne
To crie & waille, & also þou Corrynne,
Þat whilom were in so gret affray
For deth only of þi popyngay,
As in his boke telleþ vs Ouyde,—
Late al þis wo now be leide a-side,
And make of hit no comparisoun
Vn-to þe wo þat was in Troye toun
For deth only of þis worþi knyȝt!
For loue of whom, euery maner wiȝt,
Hiȝe & lowe, olde & ȝonge of age,
Are falle of newe in-to swiche a rage
Þat þei coude of her wo noon ende;
Whos salt[e] teris wil her eyen shende,
So pitous was þe lamentacioun
In euery strete þoruȝ-oute al þe toun.
Allas! who koude al her sorwes telle?—
I trowe, certis, Pluto depe in helle,
For al his torment & his peynes kene—
Nouþer she, Proserpina his quene,
Nouþer þe wery wode Tycyus,
Ixioun, nor hungri Tantalus
Ne coude nat, for al her bitter peyne,
So furiously wepen & compleyne
As don Troyens, Troylus, for þi sake.
For who can now swiche a sorwe make,
Or who can wepe as kyng Priamus?
Who wepeth now, with face ful pitous,
Or maketh sorwe but Eccuba þe quene?
Who wepeth now but faire Polycene?
Who wepeth now but Paris & Eleyne?
Who can now wepe or in-to teris reyne
As do Troyens, with dedly swolle chere?
It neded hem no wepers for to here,—
Þei hadde I-nowe of her owne stoor,
Allas, for now þei ben for euermor
Of helpe al sool, of counfort destitut.
For who shal now ben to hem refut,
Now þat Hector and also Dephebus
And Troylus eke, þat was so vertuous,
Be dede, allas!—who shal her socour be,
Or sustene þe werre of her cyte?
Þer is no more, in conclusioun,
But after deth fully destruccioun
Of her touris and her wallis stronge.
In þis mater what shulde I pleyne longe?—
It vailleth nat alweye so to mourne,
Wherfore, I wil new ageyn retourne
To my mater, and telle how þe kynge
To Grekis haþ, with-oute more tariynge,
For a trewe and a pes y-sent,
A certeyn tyme, by gret avisement,
Whiche graunted was of Agamenoun.
And whan þei were repeired to þe toun,
Kyng Priamvs dide his besy cure
For to make a riche sepulture
For Troylus cors, ful noble and rial,
As seith Guydo, of stonys & metal,
And hym enclosed, of gret affectioun.
And nyȝe beside was þe kyng Menoun
Solemnely buried and y-graue.
And after þat, day by day þei haue,
Lyke þe custom, of festis funeral
And oþer ritys Ceremonyal,
For hem boþe, with due obseruaunce,
Seruyse doon by contynuaunce
In her temple, lyk as was þe gyse,
Whiche were to longe me [for] to deuyse,
And tedius eke for ȝou to dwelle.

How Achilles was slayne by Paris in the Temple of Apollo, by the deuice [of] Eccuba þe quene.

But I purpose ceriously to telle
How Eccuba, as I can endyte,
Hir caste fully Achilles to quyte
His tyranny, sothly, ȝif she may.
And vn-to hir she calleth on a day
Alysaundre, in ful secre wyse,
And vn-to hym, as I shal deuyse,
With wepynge eyen & ful heuy chere
Seide euene þus, lyk as ȝe shal here:
“Parys,” quod she, “allas, sauf Goddis wille,
Þou knowest wel how þe ferse Achille
My sonys hath slay[e]n nyȝe echon—
Þer is non lefte but þi silf allone:
He hath me made (allas, þer is no geyn)
Ful cowardly, of children now bareyn—
Boþe of Hector & Troylus eke þer-to,
Whiche were to me in euery trouble & wo
Fully counfort, plesaunce, and solace.
Wherfore, I caste pleynly to compasse,
By som engyn his deth to ordeyne;
And lyke as he by tresoun dide his peyne,
Traytourly with his swerd to smyte,
Riȝt so, I þink, with tresoun hym to quyte,
As sittyng is of riȝt and equyte.
And sith þou wost pleynly how þat he
Hath sette his herte & his loue clene
On my douȝter, ȝonge Polycene,
To fyn only to hauen hir to wyve—
For whiche I caste to hym sende blyve
For to come and trete of þat mater
In þe temple of Appollo here—
In þe temple, most chef of þis cite.
Whiche tyme, my wil is þat þou be
Þi siluen armyd þer ful priuely,
With certeyn knyȝtes in þi company,
Armyd also ageyn þe same day,
Þat in no wyse he skape nat a-way
From ȝour hondis, but þat he be ded,
As I haue seid; and þerfor take good hed
Vn-to þis þing, with al myn herte, I praie,
Fro point to point my biddyng to abeie.”
And he assenteþ with al his hool[e] herte,
Behotyng hir he shulde nat asterte.
And with hym toke twenty & no mo
Of manly men, þat wel durste do;
And in þe temple, by ful good avys,
Þei wern y-hyd by byddyng of Paris,
While Eccuba, couert in hir entent,
Hir Messager to Achilles hathe sent,
As ȝe han herde, in conclusioun,
To come in haste vn-to Troye toun
After þeffect was of hir message,
Only to trete for a mariage.
And he in haste cometh at hir sonde,
As he þat koude no þing vndirstonde
Hir tresoun hid, nor pleinly it aduerte:
He was so hote marked in his herte
With Louys brond & his firy glede,
Of lyf nor deth þat he toke noon hede,
But sette a-side wit and al resoun,
To caste a-forn by gode discrecioun
What was to do, with lokyng ful prudent.
But he, in soth, was with love blent,
In-to Troye w[h]an he shulde goon,
Lyke as it fareth of lovers euerychon:
Whanne þei haue kauȝt in herte a fantasie,
For no pereil, þouȝ þei shuld[e] deye,
Þei haue no myȝt nor power to be ware,
Til þei vnwarly be trapped in þe snare,
Her maladie is so furious.
And þus Achilles and Anthilogus,
Nestoris sone, han þe weye nome
Toward þe toun, & ben to-gidre come
In-to [þe] temple, as ȝe han herd me telle.
And Paris þo list no lenger duelle,
But, vnwarly, with his knyȝtes alle
On Achilles is at meschef falle,
Eueryche of hem with a swerd ful briȝt.
And somme bokis seyn it was by nyȝt,
Whan his deth, longe a-forn desired,
By Eccuba & Paris was conspired.
But Achilles in þis mortal caas,
Amonge hem alle, naked as he was,
Hent oute a swerde in þe silve steuene,
And like a knyȝt he slow of hem seuene
Of verray force, maugre al her myȝt.
But whan Paris þer-of hadde a siȝt,
Þre dartes rauȝt þat were kene & square,
And sodeinly, or þat he was ware,
Ful secrely hid vnder þe shade,
Markyng at hym, & no noyse made,
Caste at hym euene as euere he can,
Þat hed & shafte þoruȝ his body ran;
And þer-with[-al] knyȝtes nat a fewe
With sharp[e] swerdis gan vp-on him hewe,
And left hym nat til he lay at grounde
Ful pale ded, with many mortal wounde.
And riȝtfully, of resoun as it sit,
Þus was þe fraude & þe falshede quit
Of Achilles, for his hiȝe tresoun:
As deth for deth is skilfully guerdoun
And egal mede, with-outen any fable,
To hem þat be merciles vengable.
For þilke day, Guydo writeþ þus,
Þat Achilles and Anthilogus
Of Paris wern in þe temple slawe;
And afterward þe body was out drawe
Of Achille fro þe holy boundis,
And cruelly þrowen vn-to houndis
To be deuourid in þe brode strete,
Þe canel rennynge with his wawes wete—
With-oute pite or any maner routhe.
Loo! here þe ende of falshed & vntrouþe,
Loo! here þe fyn of swiche trecherie,
Of fals deceit compassid by envie!
Loo! here þe knot and conclusioun,
How God quyt ay slauȝter by tresoun!
Loo! here þe guerdoun & þe final mede
Of hem þat so deliten in falsehede:
For euery þing, platly for to seyne,
Like as it is, his guerdoun doth atteyne,
As ȝe may se of þis Achilles,
Whiche on a nyȝt in þe temple les
His lyf; for he was ay customable
By fraude & tresoun for to be vengable.
But it befel, at request of Eleyne,
Þat þe bodies of þis ilke tweyne
Conservid wern from þe hungri rage
Of best and foule, gredy & ramage.
And ȝit þe[i] laie amyddes þe cite
Ful openly, þat men myȝt [hem] se,
To gret[e] gladnes to hem of þe toun,
In-to tyme þat Agamenoun
To kyng Priam sent his massageris
To haue licence to fet hem hom on beris;
By graunt of whom þei han þe corsis take.
For whom Grekis swiche a sorwe make,
Þat pite was and routhe for to here.
And eueryche spake þus vn-to his fere:
“Fare wel oure trust, now Achilles is dede!
Fare wel oure hope, & holly al our spede!
Fare wel oure Ioye, & oure chef diffence,
Þat had in manhod so gret excellence!
Fare wel, allas! oure souereyn assuraunce!
Fare wel in knyȝthod al oure suffisaunce,
For now, allas! vnlikly is þat we
Shal euere wynne or geten þis cite—
To vs, allas, so frowarde is fortune!”
But for þat þei myȝt[e] nat contune
Alweye in wo, nor in peyne endure,
Þei maked han a riche sepulture
To Achilles of stonys precious,
And a-noþer to Anthilogus.
What shuld I now any lenger dwelle
Ceriously þe rytis for to telle
Of her buriyng?—nor what wo þei make?—
Her wepyng al, nor of her cloþes blake,
Nor how somme louren in her hood,
And how somme go with mylke & blood,
With doolful herte, & in-to fire it shede?—
And how oþer caste gommys swete
Amyd þe grete flawme funeral,
Nor of þe pleies called palestral,
Nor þe wrastelyng þat was at þe wake?—
It were but vein me to vndirtake
To tellen al; wher-fore I lete be,
Fully in purpos, like as ȝe shal se,
To resorte, in conclusioun,
To telle how þe grete Agamenoun
For his lordis in al hast haþ sent.
And whan þei wern assemblid in his tent,
Ful prudently þis kyng, þis manly man
Wiþ gret avis þus his tale began:

How the Grekes, after that Achilles was slayne, toke their councell to fecche Pirrus his son.

“Sirs,” quod he, “Fortunys variaunce,
Hir cher fraward & dowble countenaunce,
And sodeyn torn of hir false visage
Ȝoure hertis-hath putte in swich a rage
For þe mordre, to God & man odible,
Of Achilles, cruel and orible,
By compassyng of Eccuba þe quene.
Now semeth me þat it shal be sene
Ȝif any manhod in ȝoure hertis be,
Or knyȝtly force, in aduersite
For tendure by vertu of sufferaunce,
Til of his deth ȝe take may vengaunce,
And manly quyte þis outragous offence,
Whan tyme cometh to make recompence.
But sith þat ȝe be manly and prudent,
I wolde first se þe pleyn entent
In þis mater of ȝow þat be so wyse,
Here-vppon what is ȝoure a-vyse,
By oon assent & voys in comwne:
Wher þat ȝe wil þe werre forþe contune,
And þe sege [y-]gonne vppon þis toun,
Til þei be brouȝt to confusioun,—
Or in-to Grece now resorte ageyn
For cause only [þat] Achilles is slayn,
Þat whilom was ȝoure stronge champioun,
Ȝoure diffence and proteccioun,—
But finally now þat he is dede:
Here-vppon, late se what is ȝoure rede—
Seith openly, and no lenger tarie.”
And somme anon gonne for to varie
And to grucche, castynge to and fro,
Stondynge in doute what wer best to do.
And some seide, on þe toþer syde,
For lyf or deth þei wolde an ende abide.
And somme of hem þat of wit were rude,
For her party gonne to conclude,
Þat þei wold home ageyn retourne.
And oþer seide þat þei wil soiorne
Stille at þe sege, hap what hap[pe] may.
And þus þei treten al þe longe day,
Euery man like his oppinioun,
Til at þe laste, in conclusioun,
Þei ben accorded fully in-to oon,
Fro þe sege neuer for to goon
Vn-to þe tyme þei haue of þe toun
Þoruȝ her knyȝthod ful possessioun,
At her fre wil to spillen and to saue,
Al-be Achilles was buried & y-graue.
For þe trust of euery worþi knyȝt
Was finally, as goddes han be-hiȝt,
Þat þei in hast shal þe toun possede:
Þis was hir hope, fully deuoide of drede,
Vndispeired in ther oppinioun.
And þanne anoon Aiax Thelamoun,
A worþi knyȝt, & famus of his hond
Among alle þo of þe Grekis lond,
Seide euene þus, pleinly in sentence:
“Sirs,” quod he, “þat ben here in presence,
My counseille is, platly, & my red,
Now it stant so þat Achilles is ded,
For his sone in al haste to sende
Heder to come for to sen an ende
Of þe sege, and helpe vs in þis nede,
Whiche now abit with kyng Lycomede,
His bisaiel; and named is Pirrus.
And some hym calle Neptolonyus,
Riȝt lusty, fresshe, &, by liklynes,
Able to atteyne to gret worþines,
As þe report & þe fame is kouthe,
Ȝif he him drawe to armys in his ȝouþe.
And sothfastly, but if bokes lye,
As I have red & herd by prophesye,
Þat finally Troye þe cyte
With-outen hym shal neuere wonne be—
Þus bokes seyn, þat ben of olde memorie—
And how Grekis shal haue no victorie
Til he come, þis sone of Achilles:
Wherfore, in haste, & beth nat rek[e]les,
Sendeth for hym, þat it be don anon.”
And þei commende his conseil euerychon,
And to his red fully hem assent.
And by avys ful prudently þei sent
In al haste on þis embassiat
Þe wyse kyng, ful famus of estat,—
I mene [þe] prudent noble Menelay.
And forþe he goth þe silfe same day,
And on his Iourne gan him fast[e] spede
Til þat he cam vn-to Lycomede,
Þe olde kyng, as ȝe han herd me telle,
Wher for a tyme I wil leue him dwelle,
And to Grekis in þe mene whyle,
So as I can, directe ageyn my stile.

How the Grekes held a great batayle agay[n]st the Troyans; and how duke Meneste slew Polidamas, a troyen knyght; and how Paris slew kynge Thelamon with an arowe.

The tyme of ȝer whan þe shene sonne
In þe Crabbe had his cours I-ronne
To þe hiȝest of his ascencioun,
Whiche called is þe somer stacioun,
Whan þe vertu oute of euery rote
Is drawen vp, and þe bawme soote
In-to þe croppe; & þe freshe floure
Moste lusty is of hewe & of coloure,
Til Phebus chare, in his discencioun,
Oute of þe Crabbe toward þe Lyoun
Holdeth his course in þe firmament—
I mene whan he is retrogradient,
And drieþ vp þe moysture & þe weete
Of herbe & floure with his feruent hete;
And al þat ver a-forn him made grene,
To whyte he turneth with his bemys shene—
Boþe seed and greyn be decoccioun:
For naturelly by digestioun,
Þat first was raw in fruitis & in flouris,
And watrie eke be plente of humours,
He drieth vp and ripeth at þe fulle
With his feruence, þat men may hem pulle,
Eche in his kynde, after þe sesoun,
Fro ȝer to ȝer by reuolucioun,
On her braunchis freshely as þei sprede:
Whan þat cheries plowbly ben & rede,
First in Iune, þat sweth after May,
Whan þe hote mery somers day
No dwery is, but like a geant longe—
Þe same tyme, þe Grekis, stoute & stronge,
With rancour brent of her envious hete,
Hath shapen hem with her foon to mete;
And briȝt armed in-to þe feld þei go.
And þei of Troye oute of þe toun also,
With her wardis ordeyned euerychon,
Þe feld haue take to mete with her foon,
And gan tassemble vp-on ouþer syde.
But Thelamoun, of foly and of pride,
Þe same day (of hym as I rede),
As he þat had of his deth no drede,
Disarmed was for batail of a-reste,
Of mail and plate bare vp-on þe brest:
For of foly and surquedous outrage,
Bare his hed, and bare eke his visage,
And bare also, with-oute basenet,
And naked eke of viser and palet
He rood alday, of no þing afferd,
Havyng no wepene but a naked swerd.
For wilfully he left at home his shelde
And his spere whan he toke þe feld,
Ful lyk a knyȝt sittynge on his stede.
And after hym folweth Dyomede,
Like Mars hym silfe, aboute him his meyne,
And faste by cam duke Meneste,
Kyng Vlixes, and Agamenoun.
And Priamus with hem of Troye toun
Toke eke þe feld, with a ful hevy chere:
For he was boþe ferful & in were,
In gret dispeire and inly ful of drede
To issen out, now Hector was dede—
Worþi Troylus and also Dephebus—
For in hym silfe he dempte pleynly þus:
Þat he was febled gretly of his myȝt
With-oute hem with Grekis for to fiȝt;
But oute he goth, hap what hap[pe] may,
And Parys eke, ful knyȝtly of array,
Kyng Philymene and Pollydamas,
Worþi Esdre, and with hym Eneas—
By oon assent, þer is no more to seie,
Þe same day, knyȝtly to lyue or deye
In her diffence, and outerly iuparte,
As goddes list, þe felde to departe.
And proudly first þe Grekes þei gan perce;
And Paris þo, with hem þat wern of Perce,
Fil in a-side wiþ þe sonne shene;
And his archeris with arowes square & kene
Þe Grekis gan assondre to disseuere:
For in þe feld þei myȝt[e] not perseuere,
Only for shot of þe strong archeris
Of Perce lond, and þe arblasteris,
Whiche made hem fle, riȝt of verray nede,
In-to þe tyme þat proude Diomede,
Whan he of Grekis saw þe sodeyn fliȝt,
Hem to releue, lyk a manly knyȝt
Is come vppon felly in his tene.
And first of al he sette on Phylymene,
A worþi kyng, þat cam on Troye syde;
Þe whiche ageyn gan at hym [to] ride,
Þat Diomede hath but litel wonne,
With swerdis stif as þei to-geder ronne—
Þat to behold it was a noble siȝt,
How eche of hem quyt hym like a knyȝt,
As þei to-gider ran on horse-bak,
Þat no man koude in nouþer se no lak.
But euere in on Troyens were so felle
Vp-on Grekis, þat þei ne myȝt[e] dwelle
To kepe her lond, so þei made hem blede,
Maugre þe force of þis Diomede.
Þe slauȝter was so hidous & so strong,
Þat þoruȝ þe feld þe woful noyse rong,
And mortal cry of wounded folke þat lay
Slayn on þe soyl, endelong þe way,—
Til Meneste, sittynge on his stede,
Þe worþi duke, gan to taken hede
In what meschef Grekis were be-set,
And hent anoon a spere sharp[e] whet,
Smytynge hys hors felly in þe side;
And þoruȝ þe rengis knyȝtly he gan ride,
And stint[e] nat, so furious he was,
Til þat he mette with Pollydamas,
A Troyan knyȝt and a manly man;
And vnwarly, at hym as he ran,
He hitte hym so, in many mannes siȝt,
To þe erþe þat he made hym a-liȝt;
And with a swirde, at grounde whan he lay,
He hadde him slawe þe silfe same day
In his rage and his cruel tene,
Nadde only be þat kyng Phylymene
Had hym reskwed in þis auenture,
Which so frendly for hym dide his cure,
Maugre þe myȝt of þis Meneste,
From his hondis þat he went[e] fre,
Al forbaþed & be-spreint with blood.
And al þis while Aiax proudly rood,
Of surquedie and of wilfulnes,
Of foly rage and foule hardynes,
Naked his body, hed, and euerydel,
Amyd his foon armed briȝt in stele,
And of Troyens swiche a slauȝter made
Þat þei lay dede, boþe in sonne & shade,
Þoroȝ-oute þe feld, where þis Thelamoun
Amonge hem rod woder þan lyoun—
Þat Troyen noon myȝt[e] hym withstonde
While þat he held his blodi swerd in hond,
Þat wonder was, naked as he rood,
With-oute wounde þat he so longe a-bood.
And, as Guydo makeþ rehersaille,
And writeþ eke for a gret mervaille,
Þat he vnslayn myȝt[e] so contune:
But whan a þing is shapen of Fortune,
It mote be-falle, what-euere þing it be,
In wele or wo, Ioye or aduersite—
Whan oon shal deye or whan he shal eskape.
But she, allas! can alder-best be-iape,
And bring a man vnwarly to meschaunce
Whan he best weneth to han assuraunce
In þis lady of transmutacioun,
Lik as it fil of worþi Thelamoun
Þis same day, whiche of foly pride
Amonge his foon gan so fer to ride,
I-liche freshe, riȝt as he be-gan,
And slowe of Perce many manly man,
And of hym silfe toke no maner hede,
His knyȝtly hert so voyde was of drede.
Til Paris sawe his gret[e] hardines,
And how þat he his knyȝtes dide oppresse,
Enchasyng hem so mortally & narwe:
With-oute abood anon he toke an arwe,
Entoxicat, sharpe, & venemous,
And in his Ire fel and despitous,
And shet at hym in þe silfe tyde,
As seith Guydo, and smet hym þoruȝ þe side,
Þat of þat hurte—þer is no more to seie—
He felte wel þat he muste deye.
And whan he sawe noon oþer remedie,
Forþe he rood, supprised with envie,
Þoruȝ-oute þe pres, his swerd ay in his hond,
In-to tyme þat he Paris fonde,
And vn-to hym, with a pale chere,
He seide þus, anon as ȝe shal here:

How Kyng Thelamon, after that he had his dethes wounde of Paris, Slew Paris after, with a sworde.

“Parys,” quod he, “as þis mortal wounde
Of þin arwe, sharpe & square y-grounde,
Hath finally my lyf put in dispeire,
Neuere in-to Grece for to han repeire,
Riȝt so shal I, be short conclusioun,
A weye shape, þat in-to Troye toun
With þi lyf þou entre shalt no more,
At myn hert þe venym bit so sore,
Þat oþer geyn is þer noon but deth.
But ȝit to-forn or I ȝelde vp þe breth,
Trust me riȝt wel, þer may be no socour,
Þat þou shalt first be my predecessour
And gon a-forn, depe doun in helle,
Þer with Pluto eternally to dwelle,
So as of riȝt it is necessarie:
Þe tyme is set, whiche may nat tarie,
And my trouþe for morgage in depos,
Þat in al haste I shal make a dyvos
Atwixe þe and þe quene Eleyne,
And twynne assonder eke þe false cheyne
Whiche lynked was by colour of wedlok,
And hath so longe be shet vnder loke
Only by fraude & false engyn also.
But now þe knot shal be broke a-two,
With my riȝt hond, þe trouþe to darreyne;
For þoruȝ cause only of ȝow tweyne,
In þis werre many worþi knyȝt
His lyf hath lost, & many an-oþer wyȝt,
On ouþer side, for ȝoure boþe sake.
But of al þis I shal an ende make—
Of ȝoure loue & foule avoutr[i]e:
For, finally, Paris, þou shalt dye
Of myn hondis, as it is þi chaunce!”
And with þat word his swerd he gan enhaunce
A-boue his hed, & smet hym in þe face,
Þat he fil ded in þe silve place;
For his hed he parted hath on tweyne.
And riȝt furþe-with, þer is no more to seyne,
Aiax, allas, of his mortal wounde
Fil ded also, gruf vn-to þe grounde
Ful pitously; & þanne þei of Troye
Han Paris take vp oute of þe woye,
And bare hym hom in-to her cite.
But Diomede & duke Meneste,
With many Greke ridynge enviroun,
Swen þe chaas euene to þe toun;
But for cause Titan gan to lowe,
Doun by þe arche of his daies bowe
Fer in-to weste, vnder þe rowes rede,
And Espirus gan his liȝt to shede
—Þis to seyn, for it drowe to nyȝt,—
Þe Grekis ben repeired anoon riȝt,
Eueryche of hem to his loggynge place
To take her reste al þat nyȝtes space—
Saue, as I rede, þat Agamenoun
Þe Grekis made fast[e] by þe toun
To sette her tentis and papillyouns,
Habitacles, and newe mansiouns,
Of verray pride faste by þe wal.
And þei of Troye, dispeired oueral,
No refut koude Grekis for to lette,
But of assent fast her gates shette,
And al þe nyȝt on þe wallis wake,
And ouere þis, swiche a wo þei make
Þoruȝ þe cite, þat Paris was so ded;
For, finally, now þei can no red,
But wepe & crye & sorwern euere in oon,
Now alle þe sonys of Priamus wer goon!
Fortune, allas! hath hem so appeired,
Þat of her lyf þei ben dis[es]peired,
Of al hope and of good welfare—
Perpetuelly for to lyue in care
Vn-to her deth; and þat was fast[e] by:
For now þer is no maner remedie
Vp-on no syde, nor refut noon at al,
But hem to kepe clos with-Inne wal,
Þat for to sen it was a pitous þing.
And swiche a wo makeþ now þe kyng
For Paris deth, þat for dedly smerte
Hym þouȝt[e] platly þat his sorful herte
Recurles wold[e] riue a-tw[e]yne;
And in-to terys he gan stille and reyne,
As he wolde for verray sorwe deye.
And of þe quene, allas! what shal I seye,
Eccuba his owne moder dere,
Þat crieth, wepeth with a woful chere—
Of Polycene, þat was so wo-be-goon,
And of his sustren also euerychoon,
Þat han her heer & her cloþes torn,
As þei had her owne deth [y-]sworn,
For drery wo, and for pitous peyne.
But for-by alle, þe faire quene Eleyne
Wailleth, crieth wiþ a dedly chere,
Þat her eyen, whiche whilom wer so clere,
For-dirked wern with doolful teris smerte.
And to þe cors sodeynly she sterte,
And clippid it in hir armys tweyne,
And pitously enbrace it and restreyne,
Like as she wolde with hym dye anoon;
For stille she lay, dowmbe as any stoon,
As marbil cold, hir lymys cravmpisshing,
Redy at al toward hir buriynge,
Til men by force from þe cors hir hente;
And she hir heer & hir chekes rente,
As she wer fallen in a rage,
Þat changed was, allas! in hir visage
Hir natif colour and hir rody hewe,
Whilom as fresche as any rose newe:
Now is she like vn-to asshes colde;
And with hir hondis, ay to-gider folde,
Hir silfe she smot on hir pale face;
And euere amonge þe cors she dide enbrace,
In hir swowes as she fil to grounde,
Twenty tyme, and wepte ful his wounde.
With wo she was so waped and amaat,
Of al counfort, allas! disconsolat,
In herte beyng inly desirous,
Þoruȝ hir rage passyng furious,
To deye attonys with hir owne knyȝt;
And toward deth enclosid was hir siȝt,
As she þat lyst to lyve now no more.
I trow[e] þat neuer man be-fore
No woman sawe falle in swiche distresse,
In swiche disioint of dedly hevynes,
Nor for no wo so pitously raue:
Nat Cleopatre goynge to hir graue,
Nor woful Tesbe, þat fro þe kave sterte,
Whan she hir silfe smote vn-to þe herte,
Nor þe feithful trewe Orestille,
Whan þat she sawe hir lord ageyn hir wille,
Marcus Plancus, vn-to shipe goon,
And for his love fil doun ded anon,
Nor þe sorwe of trewe Iulya,
Nor þe feruence of feithful Porcia,
Of whiche þe ton fil ded sodeynly,
For she sawe blood spreint so cruelly
On hir lordis dredful garnement,
And Porcia, so trewe in hir entent,
Whan þat hir lord Brutus lost his lyf,
For be-cause she myȝt haue no knyfe,
Wiþ colys rede slowe hir silfe, allas!
Was nat also in þe silfe caas
Arthemysya, quene of Tarse lond?—
Of Mausolus þe graue whan she fond,
Hir owne knyȝt, of whos bonis smale,
Ful wofully, & with a cher riȝt pale,
She powder made, & drank it euery morwe.
But al þe wo and þe furious sorwe
Of þese echon ȝet may nat atteyne
Vn-to þe sorwe of þe quene Eleyne,
Þat finally wil hir silfe for-do
For Paris sake, whom she loued so:
For after hym she wil nat lyve a day,
But ben awreke, pleynly, ȝif she may,
Vp-on hir lyf rather þanne disseuere.
And þus in wo ay she doth perseuere,
In hir hert Paris sat so depe.
Allas! who seith wommen can nat wepe!—
Ȝet dout[e]les þei haue it of nature,
Þouȝ it so be þat þei no wo endure,
Ȝit can þei feyne and salt[e] teris fynde,
Plente y-nowe, of her owne kynde,
And sorweles mornen and compleyne.
I seie nat þis for þe quene Eleyne,
Þat was with wo wounded to þe herte,
Þat fro þe deth she wend[e] nat a-sterte;
For deþis darte hir herte made ryve,
And ȝit she roos ageyn fro deth to lyve,
Only by grace, for al hir fel[le] rage:
For euery wo by processe muste aswage,
And ouergon and wasten by myracle;
For eche venym maked is triacle,
And euery wo hath his remedie.
For þouȝ Eleyne fayn[e] wolde die,
Hir kynde nolde assent[e] ȝet þer-to,
So sodeinly to slen hir silfe for wo:
She was a womman, no man shuld her wyte!
Me liste no more of hir wo endite,
List vn-to ȝou þat it were tedious
To heren alle hir peynes furious,
Hir cruel wo and lamentacioun,
Whiche wold[e] meve to compassioun,
In verray soth—to writen euerydel—
Any herte þouȝ it were made of stel.
For kyng Priam and þe quene also
Hadden swiche routh of her pitous wo,
To sene hir so wepen and compleyne,
Þat for hir þei felt as moche peyne
As þei dide al-most for Paris.
Her-of no more: for Priam by devys,
After þis rage and þis mortal wo,
Amyd þe temple sacrid to Iuno
Ordeyned hath, wiþ ful besy cure,
For þe cors a riche sepulture,
And in al haste þer-in made it shette,
Þat in sothnes ȝiffe I shulde lette
To tellen al þe ritis and þe guyse
Þat þer wer made in her peynym wyse,
And þe costis of his buriynge,
It shuld[e] be to longe a tariynge,
Ceriously þer-on to abyde,
Wherfore, as now I lete ouerslyde
Her peynym ritys supersticious.