University of Virginia Library

Sythen that Bretayne was biggede and Bruyttus it aughte
Thurgh the takynge of Troye with tresone withinn
There hathe selcouthes bene sene in seere kynges tymes
Bot neuer so many as nowe by the nyne dele.
For nowe alle es witt and wyles that we with delyn,
Wyse wordes and slee and icheon wryeth othere.
Dare neuer no westren wy while this werlde lasteth
Send his sone southewarde to see ne to here
That he ne schall holden byhynde when he hore eldes.
Forthi sayde was a sawe of Salomon the wyse,
It hyeghte harde appone honde, hope I no noþer,
When wawes waxen schall wilde and walles bene doun
And hares appon herthe-stones schall hurcle in hire fourme
And eke boyes of blode with boste and with pryde
Schall wedde ladyes in londe and lede h[em] at will,
Thene dredfull domesdaye it draweth neghe aftir.
Bot whoso sadly will see and the sothe telle
Say it newely will neghe or es neghe here.
Whylome were lordes in londe þat loued in thaire hertis
To here makers of myrthes þat matirs couthe fynde
And now es no frenchipe in fere bot fayntnesse of hert,
Wyse wordes withinn þat wroghte were neuer
Ne redde in no romance þat euer renke herde.
Bot now a childe appon chere withowtten chyn-wedys
Þat neuer wroghte thurgh witt thies wordes togedire
Fro he can jangle als a jaye and japes telle
He schall be lenede and louede and lett of a while
Wele more þan þe man that made it hymseluen.
Bot neuer þe lattere at the laste when ledys bene knawen;
Werke wittnesse will bere who wirche kane beste.

Bot I schall tell ȝow a tale þat me bytyde ones,
Als I went in the weste wandrynge myn one.
Bi a bonke of a bourne bryghte was the sonne,
Vndir a worthiliche wodde by a wale medewe
Fele floures gan folde ther my fote steppede.
I layde myn hede one ane hill ane hawthorne besyde
The throstills full throly they threpen togedire
Hipped vp heghwalles fro heselis tyll othire
Bernacles with thayre billes one barkes þay roungen
Þe jay janglede one heghe, jarmede the foles,
Þe bourne full bremly rane þe bankes bytwene.
So ruyde were þe roughe stremys and raughten so heghe
That it was neghande nyghte or I nappe myghte
For dyn of the depe watir and dadillyng of fewllys.
Bot as I laye at the laste þan lowked myn eghne
And I was swythe in a sweuen sweped belyue.
Me thoghte I was in the werlde, I ne wiste in whate ende,
One a loueliche lande þat was ylike grene
Þat laye loken by a lawe the lengthe of a myle.
In aythere holte was ane here in hawberkes full brighte,
Harde hattes appon hedes and helmys with crestys;
Brayden owte thaire baners bown for to mete;
Schowen owte of the schawes in schiltrons þay felle
And bot the lengthe of a launde thies lordes bytwene.
And alle prayed for the pese till the prynce come
For he was worthiere in witt than any wy ells
For to ridde and to rede and to rewlyn the wrothe
That aythere here appon h[eth]e had vntill othere.
At the creste of a clyffe a caban was rerede
Alle raylede with rede the rofe and the sydes
With Ynglysse besantes full brighte betyn of golde
And ichone gayly vmbygone with garters of inde
And iche a gartare of golde gerede full riche.
Then were th[er] wordes in þe webbe werped of he[u],
Payntted of plunket and poyntes bytwene
Þat were fourmed full fayre appon fresche lettres
And alle was it one sawe appon Ynglysse tonge,
‘Hethyng haue the hathell þat any harme thynkes,

Now the kyng of this kythe kepe hym oure lorde!’
Vpon heghe one the holt ane hathell vp stondes
Wroghte als a wodwyse alle in wrethyn lokkes
With ane helme one his hede ane hatte appon lofte
And one heghe one þe hatte ane hattfull beste,
A lighte lebarde and a longe lokande full kene
Ȝarked alle of ȝalowe golde in full ȝape wyse.
Bot that þat hillede the helme byhynde in the nekke
Was casten full clenly in quarters foure;
Two with flowres of Fraunse before and behynde
And two out of Ynglonde with [orfraied] bestes,
Thre leberdes one lofte and thre on lowe vndir.
At iche a cornere a knoppe of full clene perle
Tasselde of tuly silke tuttynge out fayre.
And by þe cabane I knewe the k[nyght]e that I see
And thoghte to wiete or I went wondres ynewe.
And als I waytted withinn I was warre sone
Of a comliche kynge crowned with golde
Sett one a silken bynche with septure in honde,
One of the louelyeste ledis whoso loueth hym in hert
That euer segge vnder sonn sawe with his eghne.
This kynge was comliche clade in kirtill and mantill,
Bery-brown was [the bleaunt] brouderde with fewlys,
Fawkons of fyne golde flakerande with wynges
And ichone bare in ble blewe als me thoghte
A grete gartare of ynde [gerede full riche].
Full gayly was that grete lorde girde in the myddis
A brighte belte of ble broudirde with fewles
With drakes and with dukkes daderande þam semede
For ferdnes of fawkons fete lesse fawked þay were.
And euer I sayd to myselfe, ‘full selly me thynke
Bot if this renke to the reuere ryde vmbestounde.’
The kyng biddith a beryn by hym þat stondeth
One of the ferlyeste frekes þat faylede hym neuer,
‘Thynke I dubbede the knyghte with dynttis to dele
Wende wightly thy waye my willes to kythe
Go bidd þou ȝondere bolde batell þat one þe bent houes
That they neuer neghe nerre togedirs
For if thay strike one stroke stynte þay ne thynken.’
‘Ȝis lorde,’ said þe lede, ‘while my life dures.’
He dothe hym doun one þe bonke and dwellys a while
Whils he busked and bown was one his beste wyse.
He laped his legges in yren to the lawe bones
With pysayne and with pawnce polischede full clene
With brases of broun stele brauden full thikke
With plates buklede at þe bakke þe body to ȝeme
With a jupown full juste joynede by the sydes,
A brod chechun at þe bakke, þe breste had anoþer,
Thre wynges inwith wroghte in the kynde
Vmbygon with a gold wyre. When I þat gome knewe
What! he was ȝongeste of ȝeris and ȝapeste of witt
Þat any wy in this werlde wiste of his age.
He brake a braunche in his hande and [brayde] it swythe,
Trynes one a grete trotte and takes his waye
There bothe thies ferdes folke in the felde houes,

Sayd, ‘loo! the kyng of this kyth þer kepe hym oure lorde
Send[es] erande by me als hym beste lyketh
That no beryn be so bolde one bothe his two eghne
Ones to strike one stroke n[e] stirre none nerre
To lede rowte in his rewme so ryall to thynke,
Pertly with ȝoure powers his pese to disturbe.
For this es the vsage here and euer schall worthe
If any beryn be so bolde with banere for to ryde
Withinn þe kyngdome riche bot the kynge one
That he schall losse the londe and his lyfe aftir.
Bot sen ȝe knowe noghte this kythe ne the kynge ryche
He will forgiffe ȝow this gilt of his grace one.
Full wyde hafe I walked [thies wyes amonges]
Bot sawe I neuer siche a syghte, segge, with myn eghne
For here es alle þe folke of Fraunce ferdede besyde
Of Lorreyne, of Lumbardye and of Lawe Spayne,
Wyes of Westwale þat in were duellen,
Of Ynglonde, of Yrlonde, Estirlynges full many
Þat are stuffede in stele strokes to dele.
And ȝondere ‘a baner’ of blake þat one þe bent houes
With thre bulles of ble white brouden withinn
And iche one hase of henppe hynged a corde
Seled with a sade lede, I say als me thynkes;
That hede es of holy kirke I hope he be there
Alle ferse to the fighte with the folke þat he ledis.
Anoþer banere es vpbrayde with a bende of grene
With thre hedis white-herede with howes one lofte,
Croked full craftyly and kembid in the nekke.
Thies are ledis of this londe þat schold oure lawes ȝeme
That thynken to dele this daye with dynttis full many.
I holde hym bot a fole þat fightis whils flyttynge may helpe
When he hase founden his frende þat fayled hym neuer.

The thirde banere one bent es of blee whitte
With sexe gale[g]s, I see, of sable withinn
And iche one has a brown brase with bokels twayne.
Thies are Sayn Franceys folke þat sayen alle schall fey worthe.
They aren so ferse and so fresche þay feghtyn bot seldom.
I wote wele for wynnynge thay wentten fro home,
His purse weghethe full wele that wanne thaym all hedire.

The fourte banere one the bent was brayde appon lofte
With bothe the brerdes of blake, a bal[l]e in the myddes
Reghte siche as the sonne es in the someris tyde
When it hase moste of þe may[n]e one Missomer euen.
That was Domynyke this daye with dynttis to dele,
With many a blesenande beryn his banere es stuffede,
And sythen the pope es so priste thies prechours to helpe
And Fraunceys with his folke es forced besyde
And alle the ledis of the lande ledith thurgh witt
There es no man appon molde to machen þaym agayne
Ne gete no grace appon grounde vndir God hymseluen.

And ȝitt es the fyfte appon þe felde þe faireste of þam alle,
A brighte banere of blee whitte with three bore hedis.
Be any crafte þat I kan Carmes thaym semyde
For þay are the [ledis] þat louen oure lady to serue.
If I scholde say þe sothe it semys no nothire
Bot þat the freris with othere folke shall þe felde wynn.

The sexte es of sendell and so are þay alle,
Whitte als the whalles bone whoso the sothe tellys
With beltys of blake bocled togedir,
The poyntes pared off rownde, þe pendant awaye
And alle the lethire appon lofte þat one lowe hengeth
Schynethe alle for scharpynynge of the schauynge iren.
The ordire of þe Austyns for oughte þat I wene,
For by the blussche of the belte the banere I knewe.
And other synes I seghe sett appon lofte,
Some wittnesse of wolle and some of wyne tounnes,
Some of merchandes merke[s] so many and so thikke
That I ne wote in my witt for alle this werlde riche
Whatt segge vnder the sonne can the sowne rekken.
And sekere one þat other syde are sadde men of armes,
Bolde sqwyeres of blode, bowmen many,
Þat if thay strike one stroke stynt þay ne thynken
Till owthir here appon hethe be hewen to dethe.

Forthi I bid ȝow bothe that thaym hedir broghte
That ȝe wend with me are any wrake falle
To oure comely kyng that this kythe owethe,
And fro he wiete wittirly where þe wronge ristyth
Thare nowthir wye be wrothe to wirche als he d[em]eth.’
Off ayther rowte ther rode owte a renke als me thoghte,
Knyghtis full comly one coursers attyred
And sayden, ‘Sir sandisman sele the betyde!
Wele knowe we the kyng, he clothes vs bothe
And hase vs fosterde and fedde this fyve and twenty wyntere.
Now fare þou byfore and we schall folowe aftire.’
And now are þaire brydells vpbrayde and bown one þaire wayes,
Thay lighten doun at þe launde and leued thaire stedis,
Kayren vp at the clyffe and one knees fallyn.
The kynge henttis by þe handes and hetys þam to ryse
And sayde, ‘welcomes, heres, as hyne of oure house bothen.’
The kynge waytted one wyde and the wyne askes,
Beryns broghte it anone in bolles of siluere.
Me thoghte I sowpped so sadly it sowrede bothe myn eghne
And he þat wilnes of this werke to wete any forthire
Full freschely and faste for here a fitt endes.