University of Virginia Library

Lordis, will ȝe me lithe & lestin a stonde,
Now sall I kithe vs a carpe of a kyng riche,
Of þe auntours of ser Alexander þat aire was of grece,
How all þe werd at his will he wan̄ or he deid.
Þe lattir ende of his lyfe me list ȝow to tell.
For all þe first is in fittis & folowand þe lettir,
And he þat made ȝow þis mirth oft mynes his saule,
Þat driȝtin̄ deyne him to dele a dele of his blis.
Sone as ser Dary was deid & done out of lyue,
And Alexander as aire had all for to wild,
Resayued to his riche quene Rosan his doȝtir,
And was þe croune be-kend of clene all þus ends,
He gedird him a grete ost & graythid him to ride,
A powere of þe Persens & of þe prowde grekis,
Þe Messedones & all men he [maynly] comandis
On kyng Porrus to preke & prese him with armes.
Now gase he furthe with his ging þe gaynest in-to ynde.
Þare many daies be dissert he dryfes with his ost,
Be hiȝe hillis & howis & be holuȝe doūnes,
Be wast & be wildirnes & be watirles bournes.
Sone was he wery of þe way so was his wale kniȝtis;
Menyd þaim þe Messedones emang þaim-selfe,
Þai said, it miȝt be sufficient þe sesyng of Persy,
And him þat trouage on̄ tyme has tane of oure eldirs.
“Quat suld we fonde any ferre now faylis oure strent[h]is;
Þis erd of ynde is ilk dele enhabet with bestis,
And he bet willis all þe werd be weris him to loute,
His flesche is fostard & fedd be fiȝt & by sternes.
And were his person̄ in pes bot for a pure tyme,
Þan suld he faile as a freke at þe fode wantis.
Bot lat vs leue him at longe & lende to oure hames,
And pas quedire as him plese with þe proud barbres.”
Sone as oure kyng of his kniȝtis þis carpe vndirestondis,
He mas to stand all þe stoure & standis vp in þe myddis,
“Bald baratours on bent blythly me heris,
All þe pepill out of Persy ere put in my will;
All ware rebell in arest now is þe rewme ȝold,
And I your kyng as ȝe knaw with croune & with septour.
And now ȝe leue me þus liȝtly bot for a litill pyne,
To caire a-gayne to ȝour kithid I can̄ noȝt þare-on̄.
Knaw ȝe noȝt how in ȝour care I cu[m]furth ȝow anys,
Quene ȝe dout so þe dites of Darus in his pistill?
Eft quen we ferd in-to fild & with oure faes mett,
I was þe first ȝow before þat þe fild entrid,
Soȝt in-to Sussys my-selfe for ȝoure hele,
In þe habet of Amon oure allirs driȝten,
Put my person̄ in plegg & perils a hundreth,
And in-to tourment on̄-tald me tuke for ȝour sake.
Bot wetis it wele with-out wene I wene in my saule,
As I ȝit haue hediretoward heried all my faes,
So sall I gete hus ay þe gree with my gud helpe,
And for na tene at may betide turne sall I neuire,
If ȝe will lend in-to ȝour landis loke at ȝour hertis!
Bot me to do slike a dede driȝtin it schilde!
I sall neuire graithe me to grece gase quen ȝow likis,
Or mare wirschip I haue won̄ for wathe vndire heuen.”
Quen he þis reson̄ had redd þan̄ rewid his princes,
And of forge[f]nes of þaire gilt his grace þai be-seke.
Kniȝtis callis him on̄ kneys said: “kid emperoure,
All oure life & oure lose is lent in ȝour handis,
Oure-selfe & oure seruage is surely ȝoure awen̄,
Ai at ȝoure beding to be oure bodi & oure gudis,
Quare-euer ȝe wend in all þe werd in watir or in erthe,
Ay mekely at ȝour mandment ȝour maieste to folowe.
If we suld die all-bedene at an̄ day tyme,
We sall neuer spise ȝow ne sporne in speche ne in dede,
Ne neuire ȝour rialte renay bot rede to sewe,
Quils any blast of oure breth in̄ oure brest lengis.”
Þan ȝede he furth in-to ynde & in þase Iles weres;
Quen̄ all þe iolite of giugne & Iulus was endid,
And messangers a-pon̄ þe marche him metis belyue,
Fra kyng Porrus þe proude þis pistill him broȝt.

“I, Porrus, þat as principall possessid am̄ in̄ ynde,
To þis michare out of Messedone þis mandment I write.
Þou, Alexander, þou Ape þou Amlaȝe out of grece,
Þou litill thefe, þou losangere þou lurkare in cites,
Sen þou ert destayned to die & dedely þi-selfe,
Þat agayn̄ driȝtin of vnde[d]lynes quat may þi dede vaile?
Madding marrid has þi mode & þi mynd changid.
Sen god has sent þe with to see & ȝit þi witt failes,
I hope þou wenes at we be like to þire lethire Persyn̄s,
Þat þou þi lordschip̄ to loute has now on̄ late strayned.
And for þou fellid has in fiȝt a fiȝt at was sympull,
Now muses þou to þi miserie my maieste to bowe.
If gomes be gouerners of gods þan mai þi gesse worth;
And if þe land here on lawe be lickned to þe heuen,
Þe ministracion of men̄ to me were to febill.
All driȝtens & dewessis ere dute of my name;
Ane ser Denys, a duke gane many wintire,
He bed vs bataill on̄ bent & þe back turned.
And or þat Sexes him-selfe sesid was in Persy,
At þe marche of Messedone made vs trouage.
Bot for þe partise ere vn-prophetable vs plese þaim na langir,
Ai wald þe wise haue wale soile mare þan̄ a wast lee.
Caire agayn̄ to þi kith caiteffe, I bidd,
Here na lordschip̄ þe limpis quat list þe disyre.”

Sone as þis clause to oure kyng [was] comyn & deliuere,
Be-fore his bachelers on̄ brade he bedis it to rede.
His tulkis of þis titill quen þai þe tenour herd,
Þan ware þai sory of þa sawes & selly frayed.
“Quat now, my worthe werrayouris?” þe wale kyng sayd,
“For Porrus pistill, I pray ne for his proud wordis,
No for na manas he mas mayes noȝt ȝoure hertis.
Did noȝt ser Dary to vs write his pistill with pride,
And all þe berbrens bernes in bestis þam affyed,
As lebards, lesards, & lenxis lions & tigris?”
With comfurth of his contenance his knyȝtis he gladis,
And þan̄ to Porrus apart þis pistill he writis.

“I, þat þe kyng am of kyng[s] & crouned of lordis,
Þe eldist child of Amon̄ þat all has to wild,
And honourd Olimpades with him ane geten̄,
To þe oddest aire out of ynde þis answare I make.
I-wis, oure wittis with þi wordis þou has wele scharpid,
And made vs bald with þi bost þe bataill to ȝeld.
Oure boundis ere barrayne & bare & þine full of welth;
Þe kenir is oure corage ȝoure kyng-dome to wyn̄,
To put away oure pouerte & pas to ȝoure hiȝtes.
And ga noȝt, as ȝe gude ware agayn̄ ȝow to fiȝt,
Bot a berne full of bost a barbrene prince,
Wenand me & all þe werd to waike to ȝow-selfe.”
Quen̄ Porrus with his preue men þis pistill had redd,
Þan was he wondirly wrathe & wiȝtly asembles
Þe kniȝtis & þe captayns of all þe coste by,
His champions, his chiftans his cheualry to-gedire.
He feris him a faire flote was fed for þe nanes,
Of vnicornes, of olyfauntis & wondirfulle bestis,
As ilkane vsyd with in ynde vmquile with to fiȝte,
And aires agayne Alexander with armes him̄ to mete.
Þe powere of sir Porrus was passandly many;
A stour stiffe vndire stele þe strangest of þe werde
Of sithid chariotis him sued a selcuth nom̄bre,
At þe fewist, as I find a fouretene thousand;
With-outen bachelers on̄ blonkis & bowmen on̄ fote,
Foure hundreth Olyfants in-fere folowid him enarmi[d],
With ilkane bunden on his bake a borden̄ castell,
And thretty tulkis in ilk toure tired in̄ platis.
Oure mey-he out of Messedone quen þai so many saȝe,
Þan ware þai storbet of þat stoure so was þe stythe Persyns.
All þe athils of sir Alexander was arȝed in þaire hertis
To mache with sike a multitude of men & of bestis.
Þan was þir chiftans chosen cheualous kniȝtis
Þat buskid ware on bathe halfe þe bataill to rewle.
With þat þai tuke vp þe trumpis be thretty at anes,
A-grydis grymly to-gedir þe grekes & barbres.
Sire Alexander was armed & askis his stede
Þat was þe bald bocifalon̄ & on̄ his bake worthes;
Mare þan a stanecast at a count be-fore his kniȝtis all
He standis vp in his stereps in starand maylis.
Þe men out of Medy he mas, & of Pers,
To enverom̄ alle þe vaward of all þe vile yndes,
And he was graythid [with] a ging of grekis kniȝtis
And maistres out [of] Messedone þis meyhe to helpe.
Þe pepill out of Persye ware petusly woundid
Of Olifauntis ouir all with horrible hurtis;
All at vnweried a-way wynnes in þe stoundis
Durst neuir his face to his faes eft on̄ fold bide.
Sire Alexander him a-visis & ames in his wittis
How he miȝt bring it a-boute þire bestis to devoide;
And mas to beete all of bras as bernes it ware,
And full of glorand gledis þaim to þe gorge fillis;
Ane instrument all of iren̄ þare ymage to bere,
Was compast on̄ carte-wise & cursoures þaim dreȝe.
Þire Olifantis of ynde quen þai þare-on waite,
Þai wend þai ware wees & wyndis þaim agayn̄
To drepe þaim as þaire first did disclosid þai þe chaviles,
And sone was snaypid on þe snowte with þe snart hetis.
With þat þai fonge to þe fliȝt be fifty at anes,
Of ilkan̄ athill ware þai aȝed þat any armes werid.
Sone as ser Porrus of þe poynte & o þe plite waytis,
Þan was he tangid with tene & turbled vnfaire.
Þan preses in þe Persyns & of þe proud Medis
With arowis & with othire armes agayn̄ all þe yndis,
Tolls of þe tirantis & termynd o lyue,
Seȝes doun on aithire side a sowme out of nounbre,
Thretti dais on̄ a throm̄ þai threpid euire elike,
So lange at þe lest way as lastid þe bataill.
Þare was þe Medis martird & many of Perses
Gorred & gais þurȝe & grysely woundid.
Oure mody kyng of Messedone þe myschefe be-haldis,
Seis þaim faile so ethfully & felly was greued.
Apon̄ þe bald bucifelon̄ brant vp he sittis,
Springis out a spere sperid all þe platis.
Þe brest of þe bataill he baldly a-prochid,
Girdis doun of þe grettis & þe gree wynnys.
His awen men of Messedone maynly þai feȝt,
So did his gomes out [of] grece & gate a grete name.
Sone discendid þare doun þe duȝtiest of ynde,
And Porrus prekis fra þe place & þe playn̄ voidis,
His ledis at left ware o lyue lendis him eftire.
And Alexander in þat angle all þe niȝt logis,
Offirs all his old gods his honour þam̄ thankis,
As wele þe ynde as his awen̄ he graue þaim all.