 | The Wars of Alexander |  |
Vicesimus secundus passus Alexandri.
Now gase he fra gangan̄ and all his ging eftir,Fondis forth with his folke & a fild entris,
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Of Appils & almands & all manere of frutis.
All þe chiere of þe champe was chargid with floures,
Acrea, sais oure autour þat angill is hatten̄.
Ȝit wont men̄ in þa woddis as þe buke tellis,
Of Ioynttours as Ieants in Iopons of hidis,
And þai ware fedd all of frute & of na fode ellis,
Of grapis & of gernets & othire gude spices,
Of sike as growis in̄ þe grewis I tald of before.
Þai ware as rughe as a resche þe bake & þe sidis;
Quen þai persayued of oure prince & slik a pake Armed,
Þan stode þai glorand on his gome with grisely mawis.
And he mas heraud & heres to hant for þe nanes,
And sett vp a scharp̄ schoute at all þe schaw ryngis.
And þai for skere of þe skrike in-to þe schaw fledd,
For þai hadd herd neuire of how ne of mans noyse;
And sex hundreth was slane & sesid with oure kniȝtis,
And foure and threti, as I flode was in þe fild drepid,
And iiij score on̄ þis side & seuen at was armed
Was with þe churles in þe chace choppid to deth.
Þus thre daies in þat thede thurgh-out þai lengid,
And dietis þam̄ with damysens & oþir dere frute.
Þan̄ ferd he furth to a flumme & sett þare his tentis,
And newly eftir þe none or nere þare-aboute,
Þare coms a bonde of a brenke & breed þaim vnfaire;
A burly best & a bigg was as a man̄ shapen̄,
Vmquile he groned as a galt with grysely latis,
Vmquile he noys as a nowte as a nox quen̄ he lawes,
Ȝarmand & ȝerand a ȝoten̄ him semed;
And was as bristils as a bare all þe body ouire;
Dom̄ as a dore-nayle & defe was he bathe,
With laith leggis & lange & twa laue eres;
A heuy hede & a hoge as it a hors ware,
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With þat comands oure kyng his kniȝtis him to take,
And þai a-saillid him sone bot he na segge dredis,
For nouthire fondis he to flee ne na fens made,
Bot stude & stared as a stott & stirred he na forthire.
Þan callis to him þe conquirour a comly mayden̄,
Bad hire be broȝt be-fore þe best & bare to be nakid.
And he be-held on̄ þat hend & hissis as a neddire,
He wald haue strangild hire streȝt ne had stiffe men bene;
He wald haue schowid on̄ þat schene had noȝt men halden,
And to þe prince pauelion̄ prestly him lede.
Quen̄ he had ferlied his fill on̄ his foule schapp̄,
He gers þaim bynde him at a braid & brent him to poudire.
Þen rade he fra þat reuir & remowid his ost
In-till a brade bent fild & bildid vp his tentis.
Þare fande he lindis on̄ þat lande þe lenthe of a spere,
And þai ware frett full of frute þe fairest of þe werde.
It ware to tere any tong to tell of þa trees kinde,
For þai wald sett with þe son̄ & with þe son̄ rise.
Fra morewane to þe mydday merely þai spring,
And þan discende þai doun as þe day passis.
Lo, þis was a wondirfull werk bot gods awen̄ will,
Þat þai suld wax soo & wane within a wale time.
For, fra it droȝe to þe derke ay till it dawid eftir,
It was bot vacant & voide as vanite it were.
Þe kyng in his caban̄ with his kniȝtis he ligis,
Tutand out of his tents & þe trees waitis.
A bad a berne of a bobb bring him a nappill;
Þan̄ bowis furth a bachelere his bedinge to fill;
And he was sodanly sesid & slane with a sprete.
With þat enverrouns all þe vale a voice fra þe heuen,
Said, “qua so fangis o þis frute bees fey in a stounde!”
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And if a man had þaim hent or with his hand touchid,
Þan floȝe þar flawmes out of fire before & be-hind,
And quare it liȝt on̄ his like it lichid him for euire.
Now bowis furth þis baratour & bidis na langire,
Vp at a maȝte mountane he myns with his ost,
And viij daies be-dene þe driȝe was, & mare,
Or he miȝt couire to þe copp̄ fra þe caue vndire.
Quen̄ he was comen̄ to þe crest his kniȝtis wald haue esid;
And namely a new note neghis on̄ hand,
Of dragons & of dromondaris & of diuerse neddirs,
Of liones & of leopards & othire laith bestis.
Þare was hurling on̄ hiȝe as it in̄ hell ware,
Quat of wrestling of wormes & wonding of kniȝtis.
As gotis out of guttars in golanand wedres,
So voidis doun þe vemon̄ be vermyns schaftis.
At oþir time of oure tulkis was tangid to dede,
And slayn̄ with þa serpents a sowme out of noimbre.
So hard þai hampird oure heere & herid oure erles,
Vnneth it chansid þaim þe cheke þe cheffire to worthe.
Quen he sckonfet & skerrid all þa skathill fendis,
Þen metis he doun of þe mounte in-to a mirk vale,
A drere dale & a depe a dym̄ & a thestir.
Miȝ[t] þare na saule vndire son̄ see to a-nothire;
Þai ware vmbe-thonrid in þat thede with slike a thike cloude,
Þat þai miȝt fele it with þaire fiste as flabband webbis;
With all þe bothom full of bournes briȝt as þe siluire,
And bery-bobis on̄ þe braes brethand as mirre.
Þus drafe þai furth in derknes a neȝen daies euen,
So lang þaim lackis at þe last þe liȝt of þe son̄.
Þan̄ come þai blesnand till a barme of a brent lawe,
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Þai labourde vp a-gayn̄ þe lift an̄ elleuen dais,
& quen þai couert to þe crest þen clerid þe welkyn̄;
Þe schaftis of þe schire son̄ schirkind þe cloudis,
And gods glorious gleme glent þam e-maunge.
Þan̄ past þai doun fra þat pike in-to a playn̄ launde,
Quare all þe gronde was of gols & growen full of Impis,
A cubete lenth, sais þe clause cald was þe maste,
Quare-of þe feloure & þe frute as fygis it sawourd.
Þare fand þai Revers, as I rede ricchest of þe werd,
Þof it ware Ioly Iurdan̄ or Iacobs well;
Was neuir no mede ne no milke so mild vndire heuen,
Ne cliffe of cristall so clere at euire god fourmed.
A hundreth daies & a halfe he held be þa playnes,
Till he was comen till a cliffe at to þe cloudis semed,
Þat was so staire & so stepe þe store me tellis,
Miȝt þar no wee bot with wyngis win̄ to þe topp̄.
Ȝit fand he clouen̄ þurȝe þe clynt twa crasid gatis,
Ane to þe noke of þe north a-nothire to þe est.
Sire Alexander him a-vises & all him a-wondres,
And trowid it was wroȝt of na lede werkis.
With þat stairis he forth þe stye þat streȝt to þe est,
And seuen̄ dais with his men̄ he soȝt be þa costis.
And on þe aȝtent day eftire þe prime,
A Basilisk in a browe breis þaim vn̄-faire,
A straȝtill & a stithe worme stinkand of elde,
And is so bittir & so breme & bicchid in him-selfe,
Þat with þe stinke & þe strenth he stroyes noȝt allane,
Bot quat he settis on his siȝt he slaes in a stonde.
He vemons in þe vaward valiant kniȝtis,
Maistirs out of Messedone of Mede & of Persee;
Þai seȝe doun sodanly slane of þaire blonkis,
To step̄ & to stand-dede & in þe strete liggis.
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“Þe writh of þe wale god vs of þe wai lettis.”
Þe kyng to knaw of þat case vp to þe cliffe wendis,
Saȝe quare þe same serpent slepit in a roke.
Þan̄ mas he bonds in a braide at sall na pepill pas,
In bole & in balan̄ buskes he his fotes,
A blason̄ as a berne-dure þat all þe body schildis,
And fiches in a fyne glas on̄ þe fere side.
Þe sc[h]rewe in þe schewere his schadow be-haldis,
And so þe slaȝtir of his siȝt in-to him-selfe entris.
Þan̄ cals oure kyng him his kniȝtis & comandis him to bryn̄,
And þai as sone as þai him saȝe him for his sleȝt thankis.
Sone as þis balefull best was broȝt out o lyfe,
Þan ridis furth oure riche kyng & remowis his ost.
And of þis way at he went sone worthis him a nende,
So at he flitt may na ferre ne his folke nouthire.
Þare was so hedous & so hoge hillis þam beforn̄,
Cloȝes at was cloude he clynterand torres,
Rochis & rogh stanes rokkis vnfaire,
Scutis to þe scharpe schew sckerres a hundreth.
Þan ȝaris he him ȝapely & a-ȝayne turnes,
And past in-to þe proud playn̄ I proued to ȝow first,
Þat all was brett-full of bowis & blossoms so swete,
Þat bawme ne braunche o aloes bettir was neuire.
Fra þens oure note men be northe nymes þaim þe way,
And þat þan̄ fonde all þe flote fiftene dayis.
And þai croke ouire crosse to cache þaim anothire,
Þat led þam to þe left hand & þat a lange quile;
And þus þai dryfe furth þe driȝt of daies foure score,
Till at þai come till a cliffe as þe clause tellis,
Ane egge þat was all ouire of Adamand stanes,
With, hingand in þe rughe roches rede gold cheynes.
Þan was þare graythed of degreces for gomes vp to wynde,
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And þai ware sett so in soute of safers fyne,
Þat of þe noblay to neuen it neyd any cristen̄.
Þare logis þe leue kyng late on̄ an̄ euen̄,
Vndire þis maȝte mountayne & on̄ þe morne eftir,
Þare setts he furth of sere gods a selle nounbre,
Þat he honours & his ost & offirs ilk ane.
Syne tas he with him titly his twelue tried prince[s],
Gas him vp be degreces to þe grete lawe,
Trenes to þe topward þat touched to þe cloudis,
Þat he miȝt lend þar o-loft & waite eftir wondirs.
Vp-on̄ þe cop̄ of þe cliffe a closure he fyndis,
A palais, ane of þe precioussest & proudest in erth,
A bild, as þe buke sais with twa brade ȝatis,
And seuenty wyndows beside of serelepis werkes.
Þe ȝatis ware of ȝeten̄ gold ȝarkid of platis,
Þe windows on þe selfe wyse as þe writ schews;
And þai ware coruen full clene & clustrid with gemmes,
Stiȝt staffull of stanes stagis & othire.
Ȝit was a mynstir on þe mounte of metall as þe nobill,
Vmbe-gildid with a garden̄ of golden̄ vynes,
Was chatrid full of chefe frute of charbocle stanes,
With-outen mesure emaunge of margrite grete.
Þis hame at houes on þis hill was in þe hiȝe est,
Forthi ȝit hedirto it hat þe hous of the son̄.
It was so precious a place & proudly a-tired,
Þare was na place it a pere bot paradyse selfe.
| The Wars of Alexander | |