University of Virginia Library

Quen Alexander of þis athill þis auntir hadd herd,
How he was diȝt of his douth & to þe dede woundid,
He streȝt him to struma & ouire þe streme ridis,
Soȝt him in Sussys him-selfe with his ost.
Þe pepill out of Persy quen þai oure prince see,
Þan ȝode þai furthe & vn-ȝarkid þe ȝatis of þe cite,
Resayues him full rially with reuerence & ioy,
Said: “welcum be þou, werraiour þat all þe erd loutis!”
Sone as þir weried wiȝtis was ware of hes come,
Þat sloȝe so þaire souerayne þat neuire sake hadd,
Þai heȝe þaim to holes & hyrnes & hydis þaim belyue,
Þoȝt, or þai wist of his will þai wald noȝt apere.
Þan gase he vp be degrece the grecen maistir,
Passis in-to þe palais a paradyce semed,
Was on̄ þe make of þat mote noȝt mervalled a litill,
Þat compast was of Cusys þat kynge was of Persy.
Þe flore vndire þe fote fynely was paued,
Couerd all of cristall & oþire clere stanes.
Ȝit ware þe wawes of þe wanes wroȝt, as I rede,
Polischid all of pure gold & of plate werkis.
And þat was streken full of sternys & of sere gemmys,
With briȝt blasynand bees as bemes of þe son̄.
Þe hathill hedis vp-on̄ heȝe & hogely he wondirs,
Þat euire suld emperoure in erth slike ane herde wild.
Quen he had ferlyd his fill apon̄ þat faire hame,
Þurȝe-out þe sale þan he soȝt in-to þe selfe chambre,
Þare quare þe lord in lay with laythely woundis,
Girdid out as gutars in grete gill-stremes,
Ȝit was þare lyfe in his like litill if it semed,
At ilk blast of his breth þe blode fra him glidis,
Sire Alexander him avysis & authly him thinke;
Þe pure pete of his payn̄ persid his hert.
Þan nymes he fra his awyn neke an̄ emperoures mantill,
And þat he couirs ouire þe kyng & clappis him in armes,
With grym̄ gretyng & gro & grysely terys;
Bad: “comfurth þe, ser conquirour & of þi care ryse,
Don aȝayne þe dignite þe diademe of Pers,
And all þe riȝtis of þi rewme resayue as before.
My pure powarfull gods I prestly pauoure,
Þine empire & þine erytage enterely þe to ȝeld;
Suld neuir na gome be to glade þofe he grete ware,
Of his neȝbour noy enentis him-selfe,
Quen fortune foundis him fra & him þe fete schewis,
And all þe welth him at-wendis & þe werd changis.
Brynge furth þi banes, & with my brand I sall þi dede venge.”
Þis saȝe sobband he said & þe segge wakyns,
Hyndely hildis him vp & his hand kyssis,
Þe brest & þe bare necke & breues þire wordis:

“A! Alexander, athill son̄” & augrily granys,
“Þe depe distruccion of ȝour dome has many day bene knawyn̄,
Þat all þe welth of þe werld worthis at þe last
To cayrayne & corupcion clene all-to-gedire.
Þe warnes of þi wale gode þat wist all before,
And fully feld all þe fare þat fall suld on erthe;
On̄ þis maner made he man þurȝe his miȝt first,
Suld noȝt be foun in him fast ne ferme ne stable,
Bot houande here a hand-qwile & hingand in payse,
Now in leuell, now on-loft now on̄ lawe vndire.
All werdly þing, I-wis þurȝe þe will of oure lord,
In-to þe contrare clene is at a clamp turned.
For had he worȝt ay to wees welth & na nothire,
So grete had bene vayn̄ glorie glotony & pride,
Suld nane haue gessid þat grace come of god, bot of þaim-selfe;
So fra þe makare o mold suld many man̄ haue erryd.
And had he shapyn Ay to shalkez shendship̄ & illys,
So feyle had bene þe frelettis foloȝand oure kynd,
We had bene drawen all bedene in-to disspaire clene,
And of þe godness of god noȝt a grew traisted.
For-þi he wald of his will his werkis to be changand,
Þat, quen a hathill ware ouire hiȝe in happ & in welthe,
Þat he knew noȝt his creatour bi-cause of his pride,
In-to þe dike of debonerte droune bud him nede.
Þis was his will at it worthid wene þou na nothire,
Þe gome his god at for-gatt for any grace here,
His welth to wite all a-way & wickidnes apere,
To ken þe caytefe to knaw qua caused him on̄ first.
Þe same ensampill of my-selfe now is betid, þou sees;
So grete I grew of my gods & gold in my cofirs,
Þat kindly gods creatoure I kend noȝt my-selfe,
Bot for his feloȝe & his fere faithly me leued,
Þus prosperite & pride so purely me blyndid,
I couthe noȝt se fra my sege to þe soile vndire,
Þat at me failed þan to fynd fast at myn̄ eȝen.
Be þe myrrour now of meknes I may a myle knawe,
If any hathill be so hard with vnhapp̄ woundid,
So at he hopis him no helpe of þe heȝe fadire,
Þan liftis oure lord him on̄-loft his langour he breggis,
In-hanses him in hand-quile & heues him to welthis
So heȝe, þat he for vn-hele seȝes noȝt his driȝten̄.
Lat þan him knaw his creatour in kindling of ioy,
Þat he þat lawene has a lede may lyft, if him thinke,
And he þat bringis him on-loft breten all to poudire.
Þi saule, son̄, in-to surquitery lat seke neuire þe hiȝhare,
For gre þe graunt ere of god & noȝt of þi grete strenthis.
If all þe limp as þe list loke to þine ende,
For die þe bose, quen̄ all is done & ay þi day scortis.

Me þink my lyfe as to þe lenȝth is like to þis werke,
Þat þis coppis opon kell-wyse knytt in þe woȝes,
With þe lest winde of þe werd þat þe werd touches,
Þe note anentis ilk ane & all to noȝt worthis.
Lo! so þe quele of qwistsumnes my qualite has changid!
I, þat was ȝustirday so ȝape & ȝemed all þe werld,
To day am dreuyn̄ all to dust to dolour & paynes,
Has noȝt o maistri so meche as miȝt of my-selfe.
My dere son̄,” quod Daryus “it drawes nere þe tyme;
My banes, on my benyson̄ bery with þi hand,
With þe proued princes out of Pers & with þe proude grekis,
And þe maistirlings of Messedoyne ȝe me to mold bring.
Lat þan oure kyng-domes a-corde & cock we na langir,
Bot ay perpetuall pes oure partys betwene.
Vn-to ȝoure mekill maieste my modire I comande,
Rodogarus þe riall & rewis on my bride;
My doȝtir Rosan þe riche resayues to ȝour spouse,
It comys wele of hiȝe kyn̄ kyngis to descend.
Tak tent to þat at I tell be tendire of my kniȝtis.”
And with þis speke at he spake þe sprete he ȝeldis.
Þan was his body enbawmed &, as he bede, grauen̄.
Þis bald baratoure him bare & as a barne gretis,
So did þe pepill out of Persy bot for his pite mare
Þan for þe dethe of Dary be dowble of þe twa.
And Alexander belyue as he was enterid,
He meues agayn̄ to þe mote & on̄ þe morne eftir,
Vp to þe souerayne sege with Septour he wyndis,
Þat Cusus þe conquirour of clere gold maked.
Þe mody men of Messedone þe maistirs of Persy
Þan put þam̄ in-to presens as þe prose tellis;
Sire Darius awen̄ dyademe þai did on̄ his hede,
A coron̄, ane þe costious þat euire kyng weryd,
On þe propurest of proiecte þat euire prince bere.
Þe massy werke was þe menest made of þe noble,
Þe pride þar-of for to proue it pyned any cristen̄;
It gaue so glorius a gleme of gold & of stanes,
Þat as þe loge for þe liȝt lemed as of heuen.
Þe sete þare him-selfe satte in soyte with þe croune,
Þat was lift a-pon̄ loft on̄ oþire litill segis,
Seuyn cubet of clere gold was countid þe hiȝt.
And vij degrece was þar grayd for gate vp of kingis,
And þai ware Ientilly Ioyned in a Ioyly wyse.
Þe first an̄ athil Amatast as I am̄ infourmed,
And of a Smeth [s]maragadane Smyten was þe toþir;
Þe thrid of a Topas a-tyred & trelest & grauen;
Þe ferd degre a Granate a gracious gemme;
Þe fyfte was of ane Adomant all-to-gedire makid;
Þe sext of gletirand gold gayle was forgid;
Þe ouirmast, all of þe erth with-out oþire werkis,
Apon̄ þis wyse ware þai grayd & for grete cause.
Þe first was of an̄ Amatist þat all chaye demes
Riche, said þe romance & ronkenes of wynes,
Lattis na dronkynnes þam̄ dere þat douth at it beris.
Þe same wyse mon̄ a wee waite to him-selfe,
A kniȝt at couettis to clym̄ to kyngs astate,
Him bus haue warnes him with of wit & of mynde,
Þat he wirke noȝt on̄ þe wethire halfe for wathe apon̄ erth.
Þe s[e]cunde was of Smaragdone þat ay þe siȝt kepis;
Quat berne as beris it him on̄ it briȝtens his eȝen̄.
So bus a kyng to consaile haue a clere hert,
To se at syttis him to se & sagely to wirke.
Þe thrid was a Topas, I trow at to þe trone lengis;
Þat is so clere of his kind þe clause me recordis,
Þat qua-sum-euire in þat ilk his ymage behaldis,
Þe face is to þe fold-ward þe fete to þe firment.
So comes it wele for a kyng to knaw till his end,
How ay þe top to þe taa is turned at þe last.
Quen̄ fortune festis him he fendis beliue,
And all his dignite bedene driues in-to poudire.
Þe ferd was a granate, I gesse goules althire fynest;
Is nane so redy, as I rede of all þe riche stanes;
Slike color aȝe a kyng wele in conyschance to bere,
Þat he schape to na schauadry þat schend suld his fame.
Þe fift was all of adomant as þe buke tellis;
Þat is he þat is so hard þat hurt may nane tole;
Is nothire stele ne na stane so stife it may perce,
And growis out of þe grete see in graynes & in cragis.
If any Naue to it neȝe þat naylid is with iryn̄,
Þen̄ cleuys it ay to þe clife carryg & othyre;
Bot blode of body, sais þe buke bees it neuire percid,
Or þe natour of anothire thing þat nedis noȝt to reken̄.
Þat same kynd suld a kyng of his craft vse,
So stable & so stedfast to stand in his werkes,
Þat for na prayere ne pres ne plesaunce on̄ erthe,
Out of þe rake of riȝtwysnes ren̄ suld he neuire.
Þe Sext was of gold graciously hewen̄,
Of all metals o mold þe maistir & þe syre;
Þe same cure is a kyng be kind of his leggis,
To gy & gouerne his gomes þe grettest he is makid.
Þe seuynt vp to þe sege was of þe selfe erth,
Þat is na mare for to mene as me my mynd tellis,
Bot ilka kyng suld him knaw cried of þe soile,
And to þe same sustenance sodanly to worthe.
Þus sett oure syre in his sete with septoure in hand,
In pelour & in pall & proud men̄ him by.
Þan̄ lete he lettres belyue with ledis out to send,
Þurȝe all þe prouynce of pers promicid þis werkis.
“Þe kyng with-outen̄ compere of kyngis all othire,
Of all þe lordis now þe lord þat lefis apon̄ erth,
Sire Alexander, athill son̄ of Amon̄ his driȝten̄,
And als of Olimpades anyly consayued,
To þe souerayns & þe Senescalls þe sires & þe maistris,
And all þe pers out of persy princes & dukis,
Þe Iustis & þe gentils & Iugemen̄ of lawe,
Bathe citiȝens & seriant salutis of grace.
Syn it lokid has þe largenes of þe lord of heuen,
Þat me þis diademe of Dary demed is & graunted,
And to be here þus enhansid in his hiȝe trone,
Ȝe sall be glad of my degre & gretly reioyd,
And ordans aiquare ouire all honourable princes,
Gouernours & gardens of all þe grete burȝes,
As was in Darius days to deme men þe riȝt,
And clene all þe clientis to kepe þaire demayndes.
Ilk a pepill his possession̄ in pes moȝt he broweke,
Armoure & actons y latt all þat be kepid,
Caires þam̄ to castells & in kinge houses,
And none so bald, ere I bide to bere þam̄ na mare.
And fra þis marche to Messedone quils I am maistir here,
Þe passage in aithire part sall playn̄ be & open̄,
Þe comers out of aithire coste to caire vndistrobbed,
With message & Marchandise & al manire of nedis.”

Now is his pistils all past & pese he comandis;
“Quilke of my fryndis ere þe folke þat my faa sloȝe,
Þat was þe drepars of Dary now doo þam a-pere,
Þat þai may weld for þis werke wirschip to mede.
My mekill miȝtfull gods I mayn̄ly ȝow swere,
And on̄ þe lay at I leue & be my lufed modire,
Þe worthe wage þaim wayne þat þai haue wele serued.”
Þan̄ all þe pepill out of Persy pouret out to wepe;
Bathe Besan̄ & Anabras as þe buke tellis,
Þat ware þe banes of his body baldly þam̄ shawis;
Said: “we to-hewid him [with] oure handis hiȝe emperoure.”
Þai wend wele þaim to wyn̄ a waryson̄ for euire.
Þan̄ bad he bernes þaim to bynd & bringe þaim be-lyue
Vn-to þe gudmans graue & hewe of þaire hedis.
“Allas, my lord,” quod þa ledis “& ȝe so late swore,
To ȝour worthi gods, ȝour wale dame we suld no waa suffire!”
“Siris, as ȝe worthi ware, I-wisse I wate wele I hiȝt,
And bot ȝour harmes were vnhid I held noȝt myne athis.
For sen I wan̄ in-to þe werld my witt has bene aye,
Quen treid was a trechory þe tulkis to be hedid.”
Þan̄ he did þaim to deth as driȝten him praysed,
Þe prouynce piȝt is in pes & princes ere maked,
An ald derling of Darius was duke made of pers,
Request of þe rials ane of his riche vncles.
Oure emperoure, quen þis was endid erly on̄ þe morne,
With all þa alyens him by & ancient lordis,
He gase a-gayne to de-grece vp to þe gilt trone,
Dobbed in his diademe & diȝt as be-fore;
As Dary demed, or he deid his doȝtir he comandes,
Mad Rosan̄ þe riche radly to apere,
Hire hede vn-helid was on̄ hiȝe & hild all in trissis,
Vm̄-by-clappid with a coronacle of costious stanes;
As þe manere of þat marche was he wedd hire to wyfe,
And in þe sege with him-selfe to sitt he hir makis,
Comands hire as a conquyres of knyȝtis to be louted,
And all þe pepill out of Persy was passandly ioyed.
Þai gone agraythen̄ vp þaire gods on gilten segis,
Sayed: “þou ert duke of ilk dome & driȝtin þi-selfe!”
Þan was he fraid in his flesche bad, “feyne of ȝour wordis!
I am a coruptible kyng & of clay fourmed!”
Þan̄ out onone to Aristotil & to his awen modire
Of all his weris & his welth he wrate alto-gedire;
And aȝt daies all bedene he dites in his pistill,
For reuerence of Rosan to revell & halowe.
Al be þe metire bot mene þus mekill haue I ioyned;
Forthi, lordis, be ȝour leue list ȝow to suffire.
Now will I tary for a time & tempire my wittis;
And he þat stiȝe to þe sternes stiȝtill vs in̄ heuen!