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The tyme of the tru turnyde to end,
Vnto batell þai busket vppon bothe haluys:
ffuersse was the folke, þat to feld came,
And with a stoure, þat was stronge, stryken to-gedur.
Deffibus derfly drof to a greke,
Þat Cresseus was cald, kyng of Agresta;
He gird hym thurgh the guttes with a grym speire,
Þat he light on the lond, & the lyue past.
Myche sorow was þere sene for þe sure kyng,
Sore greuyt the grekes for grefe of hym on!
All fond to þe fight, febill of hertis,
The bold men on bake were borne with the troiens,
And mony kant man kyld with caupyng of swerdes.
Then Dyomede, the derfe kyng, drogh into batell,
Palomydon full prudly, with prise men of armys,
With auntrus Aiax, abill of dedis,
And xxti M. þro men þrang in with thes.
The stoure was full stithe, þo stuerne men betwene,
Mony dyet in þe dale, dole to be-hold!
Hit auntrid, þat Aiax so angardly met
On Forson, a fyn knight, with a fell dynt,—
A prise son of Priam, with a proude wille,—
He woundit hym wickedly in his wale face,
And vnablit after with angur to fight.
When Deffibus with dole of þe dede segh,
ffor bale of his brother brest out to wepe,
He walte into wodenes for his wan angur,
And tachit vppon Thelamon with a tore speire,
Hurlit hym to hard yerth, hurt hym full sore!

THE DETHE OF DEFFIBUS BY PALOMYDON SLAYN.

Palomydon persayuit & preset hym to venge,
He droffe vnto Deffibus with a dynt felle,
Shott þurgh the sheld & þe shene mayle,
Bare hym þurgh the brest with a bright end,
Þat þe Rod alto Rofe right to his hond:
A trunchen of the tre & the triet hed
Abode in his body, & in his brest stake.
Þan Paris persayuet the pyn of his brother,
Þat was stad in the stoure & the strong fight,
Myche water he weppit, wailyng of sorow.
With pyne out of prese, & pité in hert,
Deffebus he drogh furth, & drissit to light:
By a syde of the Cité set hym to ground,
Laid hym on the laund with a laith chere,
With myche wepyng & woo for want of hym one.
As Deffebus, with dole of his depe wound,
Thus lay on the laund, he lift vp his egh,
Blusshet on his broder, & bailusly said:—
“A! dere brother, er I degh, or droupe in-to helle,
And er þis trunchyn, me tenys, be takon of my brest,
Go, buske vnto batell my bone for to venge,
And oppresse the with payn, & present hym dethe;
Þat he so sleghly be slayn with sleght of þi hond,
Þat I may wete how hit worthes, or I wend hethyn!”
Parys, for pytie of his pale wordes,
Sweyt into swym, as he swelt wold,
And all his wedis were wete of his wan teres.
There left he þe lede and launchet to fild,
Dessyrus to degh, for dole þat he hade.
He shot þurgh the sheltrums þe shalke for to mete,
Palomydon to prese, and put vnto dethe:
Þen found he the freike in a fell stoure.
Seppidon, the sure kyng, assaylet full hard,
And the freke hym defendit with a freike wille.
To Palomydon he preset with a prise weppyn,
The bold for to britton, & on bent leue.

THE DETHE OF SEPPIDON ÞE KYNG BY PALOMYDON.

Palomydon the prise, with a proude sworde,
On kyng Seppidon for-sothe set soche a dynt;
He gird hym so grymly on his gret theghe,
Þat he karve hit of cleane, & the kyng deghit,
And fey of his fole felle to þe ground.
Parys segh, in his sorow, how the sir wroght;
Þe freike in his felnes the fuerse kyng hade slayne,
And mony Troiens with tene tyrnit to dethe:
What for dynttes of þat duke, & of derfe other,
Þai were boun to gyffe bake, & the bent leue.

THE DETHE OF PALOMYDON BY PARIS.

Paris bend vp his bow with his big arme,
Waited the wegh in his wit ouer,
In what plase of his person to perse of his wede;
And to deire hym with dethe he duly deuyset,
With a narow full noble of a nait shap,
Þat put was in poison ouer the pale hede.
He woundit þat worthy in his wide þrote,
Gird þurgh the gret vayne, grusshet the necke,
Þat he hurlyt doun hedlonges, harmyt no moo,
And deghit of þe dynt, deirit neuer after.
Þen the crie was full kene, crusshyng of wepyn!
Myche grem hade the grekes for gref of hym one!
When þai lost hade the lede, þat hom lede shuld,
All astonyt þai stode starond aboute,
Þen fled all in fere, and the fild leuit,
Bowet to þere bastels with bale at þere herttes.
The frigies felly folowet hom after,
ffele of hom fuersly felle hom to ground;
Dang hom to dethe with dynttes of swerd,
And moche wo on hom wroght, wastid hor blode.
At the tentis þai turnyt with Troiens to fight;
With-stode hom full stithly in a stoure hoge;
ffoghten with hom felly, & fele were þere slayne.
The Troiens lighten doun lyuely, lefton thair horses,
Girdyn to þe grekes with a grym fare;
Greuit hom full gretly with mony grym wound;
Alto ter of hor tenttes, tokyn þere godes.
Syluer and Sarrigold sadly þai grippet,
Bassons full brode, & other bright vessell;
Pesis of plates plentius mekyll,
Other iowels full ioly, & mekull iust armur.
Paris the prise knight, & the pert Troilus
Bowet to þe bonke þere þe barges lay,
With xxxti M. þromen þryuond in armys.
The shippes on a shene fyre shot þai belyue,
That the low vp lightly launchit aboute;
And all chrickenede with the scriue þurgh the styrn ost,
ffor the smorther, & the smoke of þe smert loghys,
Þat waivet in the welkyn, wappond full hote,
All the Citie might se the sercle aboute.
Þan Aiax the aunterus came angardly fast,—
The tore son of Thelamon,—with tried men & noble:
He turnyt to the troiens, tenit full mony,
In deffence of þe folke, þat the feld leuyt.
ffell was the fight with foynyng of speires,
Mallyng þurgh metall maynly with hondes,
Kyllyng of knightes, knockyng þurgh helmys,
Ded men full dauly droppit to ground!
On yche halue, in þat hete, hurlit to fote,
Mony bold was þere britnet vpon bothe haluys.
There all the Navy with noy, & the naite vessell,
With fflamys of fyre hade fully ben brent,
Ne hade aunterus Aiax angardly don,
And with hardynes of hond holpyn his feres,
(In) withstondyng the stoure with his strenghton.
ffyve hundrith fully of þere fyne shippes,
Consumet full cleane, clothes & other,
And mony mo were þere marred, & mated with fire.
The Troiens þat tyme tenet hom so euyll,
Dong hom to dethe, & derit hom mekyll,
Þat no sith might þai suffer the sorow, þat thai hade,
But turnyt vnto tenttes, tenit full euill.
One Ebes, an od man & honerable of kyn,
Of Tracy þe tru kyng was his triet fader,
He was brochit þurgh the body with a big speire,
Þat a trunchyn of þe tre tut out behynd,
To Achilles aune tent angardly ran,
That lay in his loge all with loue boundon,
And fore to no fight for faire Polexena.
He chalinget Achilles with a chere fell,
Reproued hym prudly of his proud wille,
Þat lurket in his loge, list not to helpe,
And segh his folke so fallyn, & in fight end,
Þat with his monhede so mykell, & with his mayn strenght,
Might soucour his Soudiours, & saue hom alyue.
Þen the trunchyn of the tre þai tuggit hym fro,
Braid it out bigly, and the buerne deghet.
Sone after, sothly, a seruond of Achilles
Come bremly fro batell, braid to his tent:
He fraynit at the freike how þai fore þere,
And spird at hym specially of þaire spede fer.
“Syr,” quod þe seruond, “in sertan, full euyll,
Oure grekes vnto ground are gird wonder þicke,
And myche dole is vs dight to day, as I wene.
Þe multytude ys so myche of the mayn troiens,
And so fuersly in fight fellis oure knightes,
Alto swappon vs with swerdes & with swym strokes.
In the Citie, forsothe, no soudiour is leuit,
Ne no freke of defense, but in feld all
To oppresse hom with payn, our pepull to sle.
And yf hit liked you, lord, at þis lell tyme,
To bowne you to batell on your best wise;
Syn þai fainted are with fight & feble of strenght,
And wery of þere werke, ye worship might haue,
Wyth a lose euerlastond, when your lyff endis:
ffor by soucour of your selfe, & your sad helpe,
We might holly the herrehond haue now for ay.”
The worthy at his wordes wonyt no chere,
Ne noght hopet in hert of his hegh speche,
Ne þe sight of Sebes, þat sadly was dede;
But faynet all fantasy, as he no freike segh,
And as a lede þat with loue was lappit full hard,
As þe maner is of men, þat mellyn with loue,
To be blyndit with the byt, þof hom bale happyn:
Nowther waite vnto worship, ne to wild aunter,
But laityn ay with lykyng þere luff for to please.
The batell was big, brytnet were fele;
Mony grekes vnto ground gird vnto dethe;
Mony stithe in the stoure starf vnder fote,
Till the blode & the brayne blend with the erthe.
Then neghit the night, noy was the more!
At the settyng of þe son sesit the fight,
Paris, the prise knight, with his pepull all
Soght to the Citie softly & faire.
Er Deffibus was dede, his dere bredur two,
Troilus the tru knight, & the triet Paris,
ffore euyn to þe freke febill of chere;
With mykell sobbyng and sorow set hym before,
Þat leuer were to be lyueles, then to lyue after,
ffor dole, & for doute of hor dere brother.
Then Deffibus dauly drogh vp his Ene,
Pletid vnto Paris with a pore voise,
Whether the Duke were od dede, þat hym deiret so.
Þan he fraynet at the freike, as he hym faith aght,
And he, the tale how hit tid, told hym full euyn,
Of the dethe and the dynt þat the Duke þolit,
With the bir of his bow and a big arow.
Þen bade he to a buerne, þat hym by stode,
The trunchen of the tre tug fro his brest;
And he deghit with dole when he done hade,
Vne past in the place vnto pale dethe.
Myche mournyng was made for þat mayn knight
With his ffader vnfaire, & his fre moder,
His brether vnblithe, & his bright suster;
With sobbyng þurgh the Citie, & sorow full hoge.
And for Seppidon, the sure kyng, Syling of teres,
Myche weping & waile, wringyng of hond,
Bothe of buernes of the burgh, & his bold knightes.
Priam a prise towmbe prestly gart make,
And the bodyes of þo bold buried þerin,
With solenité & Sacrifice suche as þai vsit:
Couert hom clanly, closet hom to-gedur.

Myche tene in the tenttes with tulkes was made,
With dynnyng & dole for dethe of hor lord.
Þai broght hym to berynes, þo buernes onon,
And closit hym clanly in a clere towmbe.
Þen to-gedur thai gone, the gret by assent,
To chese hom a cheftain by charge of hom all,
By assent of hom-selfe a souerain to make,
Syn Palomydon þe prise put was to dethe.
By agrement of þo grete, & the good Nestor,
Þai grauntid Agamynon the gre for to haue,
Ches hym for cheftain, & chargit hym þerwith.