University of Virginia Library

With þat þai saw þe pulder, and hard þe din,
Quhow King Nicolas ost was cuming in—
Thay saw þair standartis and þair gonfanonz,
Thair baneris, pinsallis, and þair proud pinonz,
With timbris and wessillis of go[l]d and perry,
On helmis and basnetis sa mychtelie,
And be þe leist cot-armes of euirie knycht
With precius stanis was sa proudlie picht,
And syne þair hors sa richelie trappit war
With orphevris, marcus, and mynevar,
Or cleth of gold, or siluer, or sandale;
Baith hors and man was þis ourcouerit haill,
That for to compt þe riches þat thair was,
Thair mycht no man, bot he þat knew þe case:
For þe chapletis þat on þair helmis war,
Passit milȝeonis of gold and stanis fare,
With þat þe cheriottis with þair ryche aray,
With þair houshald veschell and iowellis gay,
And cunȝeit gold and tresour þat þai haid,
Off men ane millioun riche mycht haue maid.
Emenedus, quhilk in þe vangard was,
Beheld þe incom off King Nicolas:
As him thocht, þai war ane gret menȝe,
Bot þai war cum out of þe gret citie
Of Cesare, quhare þe kingis duelling was,
And oft quhan men cummis ischeand of ane place,
Thay may nocht sone be put in ordinance,
Bot sum sall want sum point of gouernance;
Bot þai com out with sic ane fere and pride,
Thay traistit þat þame þair durst no man abyde,
Thinkand for till oureryde þe first battall,
And of þe laif to tak baith will and wale.
Bot fra þai enterit neir þam in þair sycht,
The men of schot haid send þame sic ane flycht
Thair mycht nothir silk nor sandall hald agane,
That mony a coursour suddanlie was slane,
And sume war woundit alsa fellony,
That gart þame stop, and ramp, and draw þame by.
With þat ane vther flycht þai leit out staill,
Thikkar þan euir drop of rane or haill,
Quhilk farrar in vpoun þair vangarde spred,
The quhilk vangard ane Duke Betin led,
That or þe vangard with þe tother mycht meit,
Mony proud man was trampit vnder feit,
And be þai haid þe thrid flycht lattin ga,
Thair was ane thousand trapit hors and ma
Woundit, and left þair maistaris on þair fute.
With þat þe culuerinnis begouth to schute,
With crapaldis, serpentinis, and ribaudykinis,
With cheriottis, armit cartis, and vnder lynis,
Maid þame sic lett þat on na wyse þai mycht
Strike on þe vangard, for subtiltie nor slycht,
Quhill þair battallis with schot sa maglit ware,
And with hurt horsis rawillit, þai my na mare.

Emenedus was worthie man and wise,
And saw þair vangard haue a gret supprise,
And þat his vangard nothing warrit was,
He leit þame fecht, and haistit him þe les.
The Duk Betin was man of mekill pride,
Saw quhow it stud, and drew him to ane syde,
And thocht till anter him in þair first battalȝe,
To schaw his proves anis, vailȝe que vailȝe,
Saw Alexander cumand to visie þe feild,
Strikit his steid and hit him in mid þe scheild,
Quhill þat þe spere in schounder all to-brast;
Bot Alexander his speir in reste has cast,
That on þe thropill he hit him sic a straik,
Quhill of his helm þe sidling cowart brak:
His hede fell on þe leindis of his hors,
And sidlingis on his sadill hang his cors,
That men mycht se his hals on a syde bare—
Bot his ventall þat cowerit it, and na mare.
Than Alexander, þat brokin had his spere,
Drew out his brand and drest him in his geir,
And on þe hals he hit him sic a rout
That his ventale mycht na thing hald it out,
That of he straik his heid into þe feild,
And with þat ane gret cantale of his scheild
He haid doung doun; with þat haid Busefall
With hornis and tuskis sa woundit his destrall
That fra þine furth was no worth to ryde,
Bot þair lay doun his maister him besyde.
Be þat þe secund battall ionit was,
Quhilk sidlingis be þe cartis tuke þair place,
Quhilk Perdicas haid into gouerning;
And euir mare with þe formost was þe king,
And in þe gret battall ȝit traistit thay
That euir þe king haid bene with þame alway,
For thair was euir in midwart of þe stour
Thre couerit coursouris in his cott-armour:
Becaus þe hors was couerit with arming,
Thay mycht nocht cleirlie knaw quhilk was þe king,
For he wald bere no croun imperiall
Quhill he haid win it first in plane battall.
The thrid battall of Alexanderis vangard,
Quhilk worthie C[r]assus of Grece haid in garde,
Sidlingis þe cartis on þe tother syde;
The fourt com of—þair fais þus þai abyde
In þe mid battall of þe Grekis vangarde,
Quhilk Emenedus keipit and his garde;
Emenedus left þame a gouernour,
And he drew neir þe king into þe stour.
Than war all þai þat maid þe brag and bost,
With all þe flour of King Nicolas host,
War semblit on þe vangaird of þe Grewis;
Thare men mycht se quhare hawbrekis changit hewis,
Sidling þe hors þe blud ran stramand doun,
And scheildis quhyte changit in vermilioun;
The reik of hors and menis hait and swete,
The pulder and dust that draif vp in þe gete,
The hors neying, with mekill din and cry,
Knychtis in ded-thraw granand greuouslie,
Bodyis but hedis, thik lyand in þe feild,
Sum fra þe body doun to hanch out keild;
Trumpis and taburnis and menstrallis maid sic soundis
Of quhilkis þe reird vp to þe hevin redoundis.
The king bad all men keip þair ordinance,
Vnder pane of dede nane changit gouernance
Na move þair battallis quhill þai haid bidding,
Othir be sum of þe douzepeiris or þe king,
Bot lat þe vangard wirk a quhile to se
Quhow it wald fall to Nicolas menȝe.
The Greikis hes previt þe hardiest of þe stour—
It war ressoun þai baid with þe honour,
For þe proves of armes and chauelrie
Remanit ay with þe Greikis commonlie.
And as þai lukit sidlingis by þe toun,
Endlang ane vale callit is Montbioun,
Thair saw þai cumand mony a proud pinone,
With standart, baneris, and with gonphione:
The King of Meid com with a new battall
Of worthie Medanis, þe Gregionis to assale,
Quhilk to þame haid ald fede of tyme bygane,
For in þe tyme þe toun of Troy was tane,
Thay war with Hector and with King Pryame,
The quhilk þe Grekis chaste þame onfreindlie hame,
And gart þame leaf a parte of þir menȝe,
Off quhilk þame thocht þair vengit for to be;
Vpoun þe samyne syde, on þair rycht hand,
Thair battall was in ordinance cumand.
The king gart dres ane wing on his rycht syde,
Quhilk nixt þame was, of worthie men of pryde,
In quhilk þair was neir fyftie thousand men,
Quhilk comptit nocht þair multitud ane hen.
The king wald be ay quhair þat þe parrell was,
For quhair he was, he hardiit all þe place;
The douzepeiris drew ay to þe king alsua,
And leiftennentis into þair sted þai ma.
Sa com þe king fast prikand in a ling,
Quhare Antegon was chiftane of þat wing,
With Dawcline, Caulyne, and Leonides—
Off þe rycht wing þir four chiftanis wes:
Antigonus haid maist of gouernance,
For all þe leaf was at his ordinance,
For it is speidfull into sic melle
That ane chiftane suld euir obeyit be,
For mony maisteris makis ane battell sweye,
Quhan þat nocht ane will till ane vther obey.
The King of Mede thocht þis battall to bring,
Ionand him fast to Nicolas þe king,
Bot Antigone, þat worthie was and wyse,
Thocht he suld braik sum pairt of his devyse,
Gart his futmen ga mak þe first assailȝe,
To brak þe tenour of his first battalȝe.
Than Nicolas, quhilk saw þame at þe sey,
To confort þame brak of his array,
And Arestes, with him Antiochus,
Vpoun þe tother wing saw Nicole þus
Brak his aray and leaf his vangarde nakit—
For egernes þai trimlit and þai quakit;
With þame was baith Philot and Darides,
Quhilk of þe ferrer wing þe chiftanis was,
Quhair þai war fortie thousand weill or mare;
Behind þair vangard, quhair þe feild was bare,
They brak vpoun þame sidling with ane force,
With sturdie men, and all on hardie hors;
Thay steirit þair tyme and occupiit þair place,
And held þe roum quhair air was Nicolas.
Than Nicolas beheld and weill persauit
That throw his awin desait he was dissauit:
His curage fell, he wariit gre[t] Mahune,
He saw his men on all syde dungin doun.
The King of Mede was hardie man and stout,
And of his men was formast in þe rout;
Than Alexander him persauit weill,
Be his armour, his trapour, and his pareill—
He set his spere and strenȝeit fast his hors,
And strak him quyte throw scheild, hawbrek, and cors,
And braik his spei[r] ane ell befoir þe hand,
And left þe trunschioun in his bodie stikand.
With þat com þair ane prince callit Haniball,
Strakit his spere and spurrit his steid at all,
And saw þe king þat nocht ane spere haid he;
And neir besyde was fechtand Tholome,
And dressit him in his way for to byde—
Beneth þe scheild he hit him on þe syde,
Quhill throw þe corpis þe spere ane ell past,
That in his dayis he neuir was half sa gast.
Emenedus, þat lord was of gret proves,
He saw þe king sa sted into þe pres:
In middis þe stour he strekis his burdoun,
And set him till ane duk callit Amidoun,
The quhilk ane egill in his blasone bare,
A lioun als into þe tother quartare,
And he him saw and persauit him weill,
And drew togither with tua swordis of steill—
The speris all befor haid brokin bene,
And all trunschionis sawin on þe grene.
Bot for to se sic straikis þair þai delt,
On helm and hawbrek, ilk a pelt for pelt—
Bot at þe last it fell throw Goddis grace,
Emenedus him slew into þe place.
Be he haid done, com prikand our Dawclayne,
Quhilk till Emenedus was neir cosyne,
And baith of Grece, and mekill of ane make,
And of ane age; his speire in reste couth take,
And sat vpoun ane nobill hors of pryce,
Leit draw at ane callit Parrot de Galis,
And to þe ground baith hors and man he struke,
Syne with ane sword ouirthort þe nec him tuke,
That throch he claif baith acton and camell,
That of his hals þair held nocht worth a maill.
With þat com in þe pres Antygonus,
And sa[w] þe douzeperis dintis deland þus;
He faikis hi[s] speir, and beheld to þe best
That he couth se, and eik þe worthiest.
Sa saw he cumand with ane trapour broun
Ane sturdie knycht, þe Comte Valerion,
Ane hardie man, ane lord of gret valour,
Quhilk mony a man haid strikin doun in stour;
His helm was teit ouir mekill to þe syde
Till haue mair sicht; þe oppin weill he spyde—
It is vantage, war nocht þe perrell gret—
Antigonus leit draw till him in þat het,
In at þe sicht þe speris point he bare,
Quyte throw betuix þe hattrall and þe hare,
Bare him abak, he fell his hors feit vnder;
Antigonus his spere brak all in sounder.
With þat com nere þe prince Samsone Dalis,
Quhilk fane wald haue ane honour and a prise,
Quhilk Alexander tuke tent ay him till—
He was sa ȝoung he doutit for his ill.
Sa saw he stoutlie fechtand in a place
Ane worthie lord was namit Habilas,
And was ane prince of þat samyne cuntre
Of quhilk Samsone of resoun king suld be;
He knew him be his scheild and his trapour,
And dreaf at him in midis of þe stour,
Hit him betuix þe helm and þe camaill,
And baire him throw þe hals and þe ventaill;
The spere flenderit, ȝoung Samsone haid na force
Into þe tyme to turn and wryst his hors,
Bot strak baith hors and man vnto þe ground,
Bot as God wald, Samsone was haill and sound.
Than Alexander said to Samsone of Dalis,
“Thow servis thank—þow art rycht gude pre[n]tis”;
Bot he was put sa far into þe thrang,
And him allane his fais mellit amang,
And on him betand was Cayphas de Surrie,
Bot Samsone straik fra him sa sturdelie—
He hit ane callit Flury du Sameon,
Quhill to þe erd þe stream of blude ran doun.
With þat com of douzeperis four or fyve,
And him reskewit and brocht away belyve,
And in þe ganecum Caulus met Cayphas,
Quhilk was ane cheif cheiftane of Nicolas,
And with ane spere he gaue him sic ane stound
That hors and man ȝede bakwart to þe ground:
Samson his scheild haid clovin of befoire,
And Caulus hit him in þe samyne bore.
Thus throw þe body he lay stikit thaire,
At quhilk Nicolas his hart was grevit sair,
And with his honour wald haue bene away,
For on athir syde vmbelappit war thay
With baith þe wingis, and þe gret battall
Was cumand to and strykand on þame haill;
Bot þai war mony sturdie men and stout,
And held þame sarre togidder in ane rout,
On armit hors, and in sic multitude,
Lyk till ane crag þai all togidder stud.
With þat com in ane callit Helias,
Ane best of Grece, neir cousing till Æneas,
And he straik ane Guido de Cesare,
Vnder þe scheild on syde quhare he was bare,
With ane custeilȝe maid him a slop so wide
That all his bowellis hang furth at his syde.
Leonides was at ane vther parte waitand,
Saw Lothomine, chiftane of prid, standand,
The quhilk was callit ane prince of Babilone,
And haid his curage fermelie set him on;
His fallowis all haid prouit valeance—
He thocht to do, or to haue sum vengeance.
And Lothomine haid him persauit weill,
And haid no wappin bot ane sworde of steill,
And Leomyne his spere haid in þe reste;
He spurit his hors, and evin till him he dreste:
He hit him in þe ersoun cled with steill—
He brak his spere, and derd him neuer a deill,
Bot syne with swordis þai laid on sa gud lede
That nane mycht wit quhilk of þame better haid,
Bot Leomyne sic a straik till him gaue,
The ouer cantall of his scheild he claue,
And als þe te þat ouir his hals was cast,
Quhare-with þe scheild was couplit till him, brast,
And with þe straik fell doun befoir him þair.
Than was þe knycht with breist onhelit bare—
Than Leomyne þe sword in hand he schuke,
And sic ane straik vpoun þe schoulder him tuke
That neir ane span braid cleave doun on his swyre,
Throw hawbrek, hactone, and throw bane and lyre;
Sa wyd ane wound to Lothomyne maid he
Tha[t] men mycht baith his lever and loungis se.

And traistis weill þat, all supois þat we
Tell of sic worthie deidis speciallie,
Mony a worthie man in þat fechting
Did worthie deidis quhareof I spek nothing—
It ware ouir mekill cummer to declair
All haill þe douchtie deidis þat done was þair;
And als traistis weill þat on þe tothir pairt,
That mony worthie knycht did his pairt;
Als þair was thair mony of Armenie,
Off Surrie, Egip, and of Arabie,
As Lancelat, gret Godfray, and Noyles,
That in þe feild ded fundin efter was.
Quhan Nicolas persauit his princis dede,
He studiit and was stonist in þe stede,
And he mycht nocht eschap withoutin lak—
His gret battall was drevin sa far abak
That all þe leaf haid brokin þair aray,
And to þe citie fleand was away,
And slane was als sa mony of chiftanis,
That schupe þame to þe citie fle at anis,
And for till hald þe ost in barganing,
Quhill chapit war þair battall and þare king.
Than war þe princis of Grece and Macedone
Sa fast vpoun þair battall followand on,
That mony lordis war slane into þat prese,
Ane Philot and ane callit Lucrides,
And als ane prince Ferrand de Sardangȝe;
Than Habilaȝe cryit loud þair handsenȝe,
And bad þe king draw him to þe citie,
Sen he saw weill þat no remed mycht be.
Sa com a knycht of Grece, callit Flury,
Quhilk in þe stour was fechtand mychtelie,
And mony haid baith slane and strukin doun,
And till him maide King Nicolas him boun;
And rycht evin as he sidlingis by him went,
King Nicolas with all pith and talent
Hit him ane straik in middis of þe scheild,
That hors and man fell baith doun in þe feild;
Throw scheild and hawbrek þe spere-hede in him levit—
Sa in þat place þe lyf fra him he revit.
Than Tholome, þat weill persauit þat thing,
His hart was sare, and thocht to tak venging,
And to King Nicolas with force he draue,
That sic ane dint vpoun his helm he gaue,
The helm he claif, drew blude on his croun,
And gart him ly a-grufe on his arsoun,
Sua dosnit þat he wist nocht quhare he was;
His men him tuk and led out of þe pres
Be the renȝe, his hed hingand on wry—
Than to þe citie drew þai all in hy.
Thus Habilȝe, quhilk saw his maister sua
Woundit and hurt, and to þe citie ga,
He thocht till haue ane sicht of Tholome,
And thocht he haid lever be dede na fle,
And straik at him with all his pith and mycht;
Than Tholome, quhilk was ane worthie knycht,
Recointerit him sa stoutlie in þat sted,
And left him neuer quhill he him put to dede,
And wan his hors, and brocht with him away.
Be þat on Tholome thaire festinnit þai,
Sa wounder mony invironit him about,
And on his scheild þai laid sa mony rout—
On ather syd þai war twentie and ma;
And he agane þame him defendand sua
That quhom he hit he deit of his dint,
That sevin of þame he woundit or he stint.
Than þe douzepeiris persauit þat Tholomer
Into þe chase was put in sic ane were,
And drew to him with all þair strenth and mane,
Bot or þai com, his destrer þai haid slane,
Bot he on fut defendit him douchtelie;
Bot þair mycht men se pryse of chauelre,
And with þe first strekit was Dawclyne,
Quhilk was to Tholome rycht neir cousing,
Quhilk with ane sworde sic straikis gaue vntald,
Thaire was nother helm nor hawbrek mycht outhauld.
Emenedus com neirest efterwart,
For Tholome so dredeand was his harte;
Quhome he ouertuk, euer to erd ȝeid thay,
Quhill Tholome was fre fra þame away;
With þame com inwart worthie Perdicas,
That of befoir was followand on þe chase—
Sa weill him bare, it was gret ioy to se.
Thus made þai sone staling of þat menȝe,
And Tholomee reskewit haill and feire;
Dawcline his cousing led him ane fare destrere,
Was Habilaȝe, quhilk slane [had] Tholomee,
Followand vpoun þe chase to þe citie;
Arestes, Arides, and Liquanore
Haid done þair dett so worthe before,
And mony ane haid woundit in þe chase,
Off þame þat led away King Nicolas.

With þis þe king na blyther man mycht be,
Quhan þat he saw reskewit was Tholomee,
Gart cry þat all man followit him alhaill,
Baith vangard, reirgard, and þe gret battall,
Bot þat þai suld nocht brak of þair aray,
Bot hald þair ordour as befoir did thay,
Nother þe reirgard nor þe gret battall,
Leve þame þe honour þat maid þe first assale,
That was þe vangard and þe wingis and flycht,
With help of þe king and mony a nobill knycht.
Thus on þe chase þai followit to þe toun,
Quhare mony ane douchtie man was dung doun,
The Prince of Tharent in þe felde left dede—
Quha haid him slane, þai mycht nocht byde to pled,
For on þe chase þai followit wounder fast;
The fleand men þair armour fra þame kest,
With collaris, scharpis, gold chanȝeis of Sairdangȝe,
Trapouris, chaplettis, with beltis of Bahenȝe,
Baggis and bulgetis full of gold and geire,
Quhilk to vptak men maid bot litill fere—
Off sic thing þai leit no mare nor of flouris:
Thay thocht eneuch to say, “Þe feild is ouris!”
Thus maid þe Greikis þis disconfitour,
And Alexander þame ȝeildit þe honour.
Thus Nicolas was in þe toun retretit,
And Alexander and his men resetit—
Quhat prisoneris, quhat iowallis, quhat riches,
Thaire was no man in erd þat mycht it ges.
And syne þe toun þai segit all about,
And bad þe toun to send him Nicolas out,
For he suld neuir fra Cesare citie gane,
Quhill þai war at his will other ded or tane.
Syne is þe king and þe douzeperis gane
To lowe God in ane tempill of Diane,
And syne gart stent baith palȝeonis and tentis,
And with gret ioy þe lordis to daner wentis.
Syne efterwart bad Clissoun and Tholomee
Dele all þe ryches till all þe haill menȝe
As it efferd, þane nane haid mair na vther,
Be þair estetis ilkane was wther brother;
Suppois þe vangard all þe ryches haue,
The king bad it be delt amang þe laue,
“For thocht þe reirgard no man sla nor [k]ele,
Quha dois bidding in battall, fechtis wele,
And haldis fut and followis on oure fais—
All fechtis nocht þat to battall gais;
And all þe landis, riches, and tressour
I will be ȝouris, I will bot þe honour.”