University of Virginia Library

Howe kynge Menelay, brother to Agamenon, set a parlement at Athenes, wher he entendyde to haue deprivede Horrestes of his kyngdam, for þe dethe of his moder; bot Horrestes was crownyde.

And whan þe myst & euery cloudy skye
Of fals tresoun and conspiracie
Were tried oute, vp-on euery side,
Þat falshed had no place to abide,
Þe story seith, in ordre rehersynge,
Þe same tyme Menelay þe kyng,
Oute of þe se ful of wawys wete,
Fro Troie-ward arived was in Crete,
Frely eskapid many drede and peyne,
With his quene, þe goodly freshe Eleyne.
And for cause she was so famous fair,
Gret was þe pres & merveilous repaire
Fro euery part hir bewte to beholde,
For whom Troie, with wallis not ful olde,
Destroied was, þe noble royal toun;
And many man, ful worþi of renoun,
Haþ lost his lyf—þer may no man seie nay—
Al for Eleyne, wyf to Menelay:
Whan þing is doon, it may be noon oþer.
But whan þis kyng knewe fully of his broþer
Agamenoun mordre and euerydel,
He was ful trist, & liked no þing wel,
But inwardly felt[e] ful grete smerte;
And his nevew he hadde also at herte—
I mene Horestes—þat so merciles,
Liche a tyraunte þat were graceles,
His moder slowe, and had[de] no pite,
Of mortal Ire in his cruelte,—
And fully cast þat he wolde blive
Of scepter & crowne, platly, hym deprive,
Fully affermynge, for þis hatful cas
By al lawe þat he vnworþi was
His fadris regne as eyr to possede,
Iustly considrid his horrible dede.
And al attonis, furious and wroth,
With-oute abood vn-to ship he goth,
Malencolyk in his grete tene,
Oute of Crete seiling to Athene,
And toke þe lond oute of shipes bord
Where duke Nestor was gouernour & lord,
Whiche hym receiveth, like a gentil knyȝt,
With al his power, dilligence, and myȝt.
But Menelay, of rancour and gret hete
Gan with þe duke secrely to trete
To fynde a mene in his inwarde siȝt
For to deprive Horestes of his riȝt.
And þer-vp-on to haue a iugement,
At Athenes was holde a parlement
Of þe lordis of þat regioun,
To ȝeve þer-on a diffinicioun,
In whiche was shewed, openly y-nowe,
How Horestes his owne modir slowe,
And þe maner of his grete offence,
Hym silf[e] þo beyng in presence.
And whan þis þing he fully dide espie,
For his party he gan ageyn replie,
As he þat felte hym frely at his large,
For hym alleggynge þat he had in charge
Of þe goddis, shortly to declare,
His mortal swerde þat he nat ne spare
Vp-on Clemestra, rote of false tresoun,
Þat slowe hir lord, kyng Agamenoun,
And þe mordre þoruȝ hir malis wrouȝt.
Wherfore Horestes humblely besouȝt
Þe lordes alle, with a manly herte,
Of equite considren and aduerte,
For no malis, rancour, nor for rage
Hym to deprive of his heritage,
Siþen he was sone of Agamenoun,
Borne to ben eyr of þe Regioun,
As ȝe han herd, þat called was Methene,
Al-be his moder, Clemestra þe quene,
Compassid had his destructioun.
But duke Nestor, ymeved of resoun,
In sustenyng of Horestes riȝt,
Roos vp anoon lyk a manly knyȝt,
Offringe him silf proudly for his sake
Þis hiȝe quarel for to vndirtake,
With his body to þe deth darreyne
Wiþ whom þat list his title to with-seyne.
But þer was noon in al þat companye
Þat durste a word a-geyn[e]s him replye,
So hool he stood in his oppinioun.
And by his knyȝtly mediacioun
He bar hym so, feynyng in no þing,
Þat Horestes was [y-]crowned kyng
Of Methene, alle beyng of assent.
And whan dissoluyd was þe parlement,
Þis Horestes of his liges trewe
Resseyved was with a crowne newe,
And by trete of lordis many oon
Kyng Menelay & he wer made at oon,
And gan her Ire & her rancour lete.
And Ydumee, þe myȝty kyng of Crete,
So prudently gouerneth þis matere,
Þat Hermyone, þe ȝong[e] douȝter dere
Of Menelay and þe quene Eleyne,
So ȝong, so freshe, of bewte souereyn,
I-wedded was with-oute more tariyng
To Horestes, þe newe lusty kyng.
And by cause of þis allyaunce
Devoided was al rancour and distaunce
Atwene þe kynges, Menelay þe olde
And Horestes, of whom riȝt now I tolde.
Þus leue I hem, as it was þe beste,
Eche in his regne lyve in pes & reste;
For al strif was cessid in þis cas.
But Erygona, þat þe douȝter was
Of Egistus, as ȝe han herd me telle,
For sorwe & drede list no lenger dwelle,
But toke a rope, & liste no þing to spare,
And þer-with-al gan hir silf to gnare,
Þe story seith, hiȝe vp-on a tre:
Þis was hir fyn,—ȝe gete no more of me—
But I wil forþe ceriously entrete
Of þe story to tellen ȝow þe grete.