University of Virginia Library

“Þe kynge crouned of kyngis o lordis all othire,
Ser Alexander þe athelest of Amon̄s childire,
And of þe quene Olimpades þat I was of geten̄,
To þe best of bragmeyns blissing & hele!
Sire, be þis sothe at ȝe say of all seggis oute
Ȝe may be sett be ȝow-selfe for syn doo ȝe neuire!
Bot sothely slike a simpilnes as me my saule demys,
It comes bot of acustoumes & of na clene thewes.
And owþir ȝe gesse at ȝe be gods for ȝoure gud werkis,
Or deynes with oure driȝtins for þat we þam̄ dere hald.
Ȝe say ȝe sawe neuire soile ne na citis biggis;
How suld ȝe telle withouten̄ toles or any tild rere?
Is þer non̄ Instrumentis of Iren̄ in all þat Ile founden,
Ne nakin̄ metall of to make messelyne ne othire.
For-quy as bestis on̄ þe bent ȝe growe on̄ þe greuys,
Refete ȝow with refuse of rotis & of herbys;
Þe same wyse dose a wolfe þat wantis of his pray;
Quen he has faute of his flesch he fallis to þe soile!
Lo, if me list in-to ȝoure land with all my ledis entre,
Quat wisdom̄ at ȝour wricchidnes or witt miȝt I lere?
Þe, lede, is litill to loue þat leuys ay in sorowe,
Bot mekill mare he is menskid þat in a mene duellis.
Ware þai so wyse þat has waes qua ware so wide praysed
As þa þat lepros ere & lame þat neuire of leth knewe?
If I ȝoure parties aproche & piȝt vp my tentis,
If I it miȝt, as I ne may for missyng of schipis,
Þare suld my folk for defaute be famyscht for euire,
And worthe in a wale quile to wricchis as ȝour-selfe!
Ȝe say ȝour women̄ has na wedis þe werd with to plese,
Garlands ne no gay gere to glyffe in̄ ȝour eȝen̄,
Silke of Sipris, ne say ne saffrond kellis;
For-quy þare is nane to gete now neuyn̄ I þe cause!
Adultery on̄ all wise als ȝe deuoyde,
Echchewis ay þat caffare as castite wald;
If ȝe na will haue to þat werk it wondres me littill;
How suld ȝe nayte euir þat note þat neȝes neuir þe fode?
Slik lust is lang on̄ þe leuir & likand spices,
Mast cherischid & encheson̄ of chasteand metis;
And ȝe bot fede ȝow with frute at flays noȝt ȝoure hongir,
For-þi neuire ailes ȝow þat apetite þir artis with to dele.
Is þar na lare in̄ ȝoure land labour of scolis,
Fesike, ne no philosofy ne no fourme ellis,
Piromancie, ne poisei ne practyse of lawe,
Ne neuire na mercy ȝow emell as mynes me ȝour pistill;
All þis condicions I call bot comon̄ of bestis,
Þat has no sent in þaire saule ne sauour in na gude.
Bot we þat fourmed is & fast & has a fre will
Differris as in̄ oure fraunches fere fra ȝoure kynde.
It ware no possible poynt to paise in̄ my witt,
Þat all miȝt ay be eftir ane with-outen any chaunge.
For eftir baret or bale blis vs aperis
And eftir wele comys wa for so þe werd askis.
Ouir wild is many ways wraiste as þe wedire skiftis;
For a clere cloudles day mas a clene mynde;
Quen it is briȝt all a-bowte it blithis oure hertis.
And be þar gold in oure gate or any gud stanes,
We do bot foules it with oure fete vs fayns it na more,
And quen it walows & wannes all oure thestres,
Ȝet ere we toghid to & fra be turnyng of eldris.
For quilk a frek is bot a fan̄t þan is he first simple,
And quen he preues fra þat prike þan̄ is he proud-lokid,
Metis on̄ þe medill merke & þare his mynd stablis.
Mekill variaunce of vertus enveronis oure saules,
For we ere fetid full faire & has oure fyue wittis.
Ane, oure siȝt with to see & sauour at þe nasee,
And ane to tast & to touche & þen oure twa eris.
Of all þe frutis on̄ þe fold we fange at oure will,
Bath venyson̄ & volatile & variand fisches.
If ȝe refreyne ȝow þar-fra it falis bot of pride
Or ellis ȝow writhis with ȝour wele for ȝe na welth haue!
Be many opynion I prefe þat pure is ȝoure tecches,
Mare fonden opon̄ foly þan ficchid on̄ reson̄.”
Sone as þe kyng of þe kith þe clause had devysid,
He settis him doun full sobirly & sendis him anothire.

“I, sir Dyndyn̄ þe derrest at duells in þis Ile,
Þe best of þe bragmeyns of bounte & of thewis,
To Alexander, þat aire þat erles all þe werd,
Þe souerayne sire of all þe soile salus & ioye.
Sire, we erd noȝt in elementis as euirmare to duell,
Bot as qua pas a pilgrymage fra Parysch to rome;
To othire hames vs hiȝe quen we ere hethen voided,
And in þe cites of syn̄ þan̄ sitt we na langire.
Vse we nane Epocrise ne ire, ne no theftis,
Ne nothire gesse we vs gods ne grym̄ at oure driȝtin̄.
For many seerties we seet þat sysed all þe werde,
And wroȝt þe will of ilk we to wale as him likid.
And he þat wayues ay þe werst & wirkis þe bettir,
Þat gome is gods gud frend & god neuire þe hildire.
And þis similitude þat oure sede þou settis my pistill,
Þe same ensampill, as me semes in-to ȝoure-self touches,
For so þe qwele of qwistounes ȝoure qualite encreses,
Þat noþir gesse ȝe gouernour no god bot ȝour-selfe!
Ȝe brixsill our benignite oure bonerte repreues,
And beris a-pon̄ vs blasfeme þat neuire bale thoȝt.
All be we suggets in oure-selfe & simpill oure latis,
Voide & vacand of vices as virgyns it ware.
Neuir-þe-les of a laȝe hald we vs driȝtins.
It is ȝoure-selfe & noȝt oure-self þat ai þe self hantis;
Aboundance of Auoure ȝow all has englaymed,
For ȝe bot fage ay þe flesche & felsen it wele.
Ȝe bide no besynes of bedis bot to þe body clethe,
Els ȝe may cast ȝow to be coynt ȝe count for na ferrir.
With soft serkis of silke ȝoure sidis vm̄-loke,
Doubeletis of damaske & sum of dere tars,
With ilka fingire on ȝoure fist fillid full of ryngis,
Schard al of shire gold as it a schryne were.
Quat profetis ȝow þis paraile & all þis proud iettis?
For nouthire saues it þe saule ne ȝour-selfe fedis.
Bot we, þat knawis wele & ken þe kynd of þe noble,
Quen we ere drinkeles & dry we draw to þe bourne;
And be þar gold in oure gate or any gud stanes,
We do bot foulis it with oure fete vs faynes it na more.
For nouthire purgis it oure pliȝt ne priues it oure hungir,
Ne nouþir salues it oure sares ne sesis it oure thrist.
For folowid it slike a fraunchis at it vs fede wald,
Þe cursed laike o couatis ware clene with it drenchid.
Ȝe vise ȝow þar-of vessell for vanyte & pride;
As gud ware crestyns of clathe þe caryon̄ to serue.
I se na godlaik in gold bot grefe to þe saule,
For þe fastir it fallis on̄ a freke þe fastir he couettis.”
Sire Alexander all at ese avisis him on̄ þis pistill,
And wayues to him a-noþire writt at on̄ þis wyse spellis.

“Hiȝe kyng with-out comparison̄ of kyngis all oþire,
Of all lordis þe lord þat leues vndire heuen,
Sire Alexander, þe aire of Amon oure driȝtin̄,
To þe, ser Dyndyn on̄ þi dese þis dities I write.
In slike a side of þe soile ȝour-selfe is in-closid,
May wele na wee, if he wald wyn̄ to ȝour kithis.
Forþi enhabete ȝe in angwysch at ȝoure vnthankis;
And all ȝoure lefing & ȝoure lare at ȝe so loude prayse,
It comis bot of a kyndnes & of na clene thewys.
And als ȝe fonde may na forþire to hiȝen̄ ȝoure name,
Bot pyned þar in a parroke inparkid as bestis,
Þus pere to þir preson̄s þat ay in payn̄ lengis,
And he þat seȝis to vs sage ȝe bot a sott call.
Be þe grace of my god miȝt I ȝour grond entre,
I suld ȝow ken to be kniȝtis & clethe ȝow with armes.”
Þan piȝt oure prince in þat place a pelare of marble,
Quare-on̄ a tulke with a toile þis titill vp he wrate,
Sum langage on̄ latine & lettres of ynde,
Sum was graithid o grew þat þus to-gedire spekis:
“I, Philip̄ son̄ þe fell kyng þe fondere of grece,
Sire Alexander þe athill þ[a]t aȝe all þe barbres
Eftir þe day & þe dethe of Dary & of Porrus,
Þus fere I foloȝed haue my faes;” & here a fitt end.