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Lydgate's Fall of Princes

Edited by Dr. Henry Bergen ... presented to The Early English Text Society by The Carnegie Institution of Washington

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[How the peple of Achaia, with ther cheef Cite Corynthe by Romayns was destroied.]
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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[How the peple of Achaia, with ther cheef Cite Corynthe by Romayns was destroied.]

Thus the lordshepe wered out & spent
Of Macedoyne, as maad is mencioun.
Ther wer too contres therto adiacent,
The ton Achaia, a litil regeoun,
And Spartanoys goyng enviroun,
Mihti of peeple and of gret substaunce,
In oon confederat & of oon alliaunce.
Thei wer conioyned & bothe maad al oon
Bi a maner feithful convencioun.
And when the Romeyns knew hem for ther foon,
Hauyng ther frenshipe in suspecioun,
Thei caste to make a disiunccioun
Atween thes londis, in breede & eek in lengthe;
For thyng disseuered is menusid of his strengthe.
Ordeyned cites and toun[e]s heer & yonder,
Wheron the Romeyns gan make a decre,
That ther lordshepes sholde be sette assonder,

624

Which made the peeple in eueri gret cite,
Whan thei knew ther fals subtilite,
To rise attonys, most cruel of ther cheeris,
And wolde ha slayn the Romeyn massageris.
And fynalli bi this occasioun
Romeyns ageyn hem gan wexen furious,
Took hardynesse off ther dyuisioun;
And a consul callid Munius,
A manli kniht, in armis ful famous,
Into Achaia was fro Roome sent
It to destroye bi gret auisement.
Thei of Achaia bi ther necligence,
And bi ther froward wilful reklesnesse,
Of verray pride list make no diffence;
Thouhte themsilff, withoute auisynesse,
Off poweer able, & strenger in sothnesse
Than wer[e] Romeyns, veraili in deede:
Thus wer thei stroied afforn or thei took heede.
Thei stood in hope in ther sturdynesse
Bi that bataille to haue had gret pillage,
Of the Romeyns to ha[ue] won[n]e gret richesse.
And for a pompe, of wilful fals dotage
Thei took ther wyues and wommen yong off age,
And set hem up on an hih mounteyn,
That ther manhod myhte in the feeld be seyn.
Whan the Romeyns mette hem in bataille,
Thei dispurueied and out off ordenaunce,
Slayn lik beestis, ther poweer gan to faille,
Of froward pride & rekles gouernaunce,
That Achaia was brouht to myschaunce;
Wommen and childre, for sorwe almost mad,
To lyue in seruage wer to Rome lad.
Corynthe that tyme was ther cheef cite,
Destroied be Romeyns & brouht vnto ruyne,
Which among citees, in Bochas ye may see,
Aboue alle othir dide in honour shyne;
Of alle sciences ther floured the doctrine,
And of crafftis artificeres most wise,
Rekne al the world, ther was cheef marchaundise.

625

Thus vnwarli in ther most noblesse,
Sittyng of Fortune on the [hihest] stage,
Thei wer destroied of tresor & richesse,
Brouhte to nouht bi slauhtre & pillage,
Ther wallis broke in that cruel rage.
And in that brennyng, Bochas seith, the leuene
Rauht a gret part upward to the heuene.
Pleyn with the erthe the wallis broke doun,
The peeple slayn merciles, yong & old;
And ther was maad a gret dyuisioun:
Summe lad in seruage, & somme of them wer sold.
Images of coper, of syluer & of gold
Wer sodenli, in al that violence,
Togidre molte, so hoot was the feruence.
Of which metal thus afftir it is fall,
Gold, siluer, coper, medlid into oon,
Coper of Corynthe men sothli dede it call,
Thoruh al the world of custum euerichon.
Fame of which metal is so ferr Igon,
That the vessellis forgid of the same
Corynthoise Icallid is by name.
Afftir Corynthe was thus brent to nouht,
A prynce callid Philipp Philermene
To Iohn Bochas hath his compleynt brouht,
In whos face and cheer it was weel seene,
The woful constreynt of his mortal teene.
And he was whilom, Bochas doth specefie,
Lord of a cite callid Vallaquye.
Marcus Actilius took hym prisoneer,
Brouht hym to Roome, list hym nat respite.
Next to [Iohn] Bochas, with an heuy cheer,
Appeerid a duc callid Democrite.
Of Etholis, myn auctour doth so write,
He was cheeff lord; but he & his contre
Translatid wern to Roome the cite.

626

This duk was cast and cheyned in prisoun,
Escapid onys, in stori as I fynde,
Take ageyn, throwe in a derk dongoun,
Ther for sorwe wente out of his mynde,
Slouh hymsilff at myscheeff ageyns kynde—
Loo, hou thes princis proud & rek[e]les
Haue shamful eende, which cannat lyue in pes!