The English Charlemagne Romances

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Sir Ferumbras.

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Sir Ferumbras.

xxxii

CHARACTERS OF THE ROMANCE.

Charlemagne, Emperor of France, &c.
Balan (Laban), Emir of the Saracens.
Ferumbras, Balan's son; defeated in single combat by Oliver, and converted to Christianity.
Floripas, daughter to Balan; in love with Sir Guy, to whom she is finally married.
Reyner, a French Knight, father of Oliver.
Roland. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Oliver. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Terry (Thierry). One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Geoffrey. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Ogier. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Basyn. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Naymes. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Richard of Normandy. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Berard. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Aubrey. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Gwylmer. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Guy of Burgundy. One of Charlemagne's douzeperes
Raoul. A French Knight
Howel. A French Knight
Alorys. A French Knight
Gerard. A French Knight
Hugo. A French Knight
Gwenylon (Ganelon) A French Knight
Hautefulle. A French Knight
Malkare. A French Knight
Hardree. A French Knight
Turpin, the Bishop.
Alagolofure, a Saracen giant; warden of the Bridgn of Mantrible.
Brytamon: Balan's gaoler at Aigremont.
Turgys. A Saracen King
Kargys. A Saracen King
Lucifer of Bandas. A Saracen King
Lampatrys. A Saracen King
Moradas. A Saracen King
Clarion. A Saracen King
Sortybran. A Saracen King
Bruyllant. A Saracen King
Aspayllard. A Saracen King
Tenebre. A Saracen King
Bruyllant, King of Persia, brother to Balan.
Maubyn, a Saracen thief.
Enfachoun, a Saracen giant.
Amyote, a giantess, wife to Enfachoun, slain by Charles.
Malyngras, Balan's messenger.
Maumecet: chamberlain to Floripas.
Maragounde: governess to Floripas.

[OMITTED]

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The first leaf of the MS. is lost. The following note summarises the narrative as presented in the French original.

Listen to me, and I will tell you a wonderful and true story of Charles, the doughty king who recovered the crown of thorns, the nails, and the other sacred relics, and brought them to St Denys.

Charles had collected all his barons, and advanced on Morimoud. Oliver, who commanded the advance-guard, is suddenly attacked by the Saracens in the valley of Rayer. He himself is wounded, and the French are on the point of being put to flight, when Charles with his old knights comes to their aid.

[OMITTED]Charlis doghti [knyȝtes][OMITTED]ta le as þay a waywarde spedde
Mo þan a þausend with out[OMITTED]slowe þai as þay fledde
& drow hym[OMITTED]wiþ on[OMITTED]are with his host þat was þere.
Ac Olyuer was a-woundede sare at þat tyme wiþ a spere.

þat nyȝt was Charl[es proude] y wet & auaunted his kniȝtes olde.
& sayde þat þay had [boren] hem bet þan ys ȝonge barouns bolde.
& [Rolan]d iherd hit euery del & his auaunttyngge hem greuede sore,
Ac þoȝ him self had born him wel þanne spak he no more.

Erlich on þe morrwenyng þe kyng aras & al his chiluelarie,
& hurd is masse wan hit was & so to þe mete gan hye,
& al on murȝþe was he y-sete wiþ a fair baronye;
Ac or he hadde þane half y-ȝete on herte him gan to nuye,
Wan cam þer a Sarsyn [werreour] þere by-fore is host al-one:
Of such anoþer herde ȝe nere nowar þar ȝe han gone,
Of Strengþe, of schap, of hugenys of dedes of armes bolde.
Þe kyngdom of Alysandre was al his & fro babyloyne, þat holde,
Riȝt in to þe rede see lord was he and syre.
To ma[r]trye cristen men & slee þat was his desyre.
Poille, palerne, and russye he putte to seruage,
To holde of hym by maystrye & to do til hym homage.
But for þay of Rome in such a cas wolde noȝt grantte ys [wille]

He slow þe Pope þat þo was and alle þat he myȝt tille:
Cardynals, Abbotes & Pryours monekys & frerys eke,
& alle clerkes of honours boþe pore & reke,
Saue nunnes sloȝ he sykerly þe relygyous þat þar war.
Wymen he tok, & lay hem by & afterward duden hem [slee]
Þat Cite a struyede, & þanne beer þe relyqes fayre & free,
Of wham y tolde ȝow of eer þe croune & þe nayles three.
Of ierusalem & of al þat lond lord he was aboute,
Þer-for þer duden vmtil his hond many a sarsyn loute;
Of turkys, persans & arrabyen gret puple had he wyþholde.
He ne doutede þer-for non cristen men so riche was he of golde.
He was departid fram ys host þat was ful gret of nombre,
& soȝte þat contree & al þat cost cristenmen to encombre.
Wan he with non ne may ymete on herte him greueþ sare;
To Charlisward rod he wiþ herte grete & fyndeþ hym loged þ[are]
In pauylons riche & wel abuld a fair host him aboute.
[OMITTED]þe feldes wern al y-fuld wiþ hym & wiþ his route.

Wan he was war of þe frenschemen on h[ert] him likid ille
He stynte & þoȝte noȝt remuye hem þere til he ha foȝt is fille.
By þe egle of gold þat briȝte schon vppon charlis pauyloun
knew he þer-by þe kyng, was on þat was of gret renoun:
& ful wel saw hym whar he sat & knew him by his araie.
for angre þat he toke of þat he wax so pal so clay—
By Mahonet ys oþ þanne a swer as he was þar al-one
þat he ne wolde for no fer out of þat felde gone,
Er Charlis wiþ þe hore berde wer take ouþer a-slaȝe,
& discoumfit were al his ferde þat lyuede on þe cristene lawe,
him self schelde þer ben is bane he swor þan by his driȝte.
now wil ych to ȝov telle ys name & sigge ȝow wat he hyȝte

Syre Fyrumbras of Alysandre me calde þat Sarsyn.
His body wold he putte in auntre for þere riȝt þoȝte he lyn
& liȝt hym doun an vndre a tree a boȝe-schot fram þat host:
þar-to ys stede þan tyeþ he & gan to blowe bost.
He seȝ Charlys sitte & ete þan þoȝte he as a stod,
If he may let him of his mete ys herte hit wold do gode.

þanne cryede he “Charlis, with þe berde herkne what y speke:
[S]end me þe beste knyȝt of þy furde myn anger for to wreke,
Duk Roland, oþer Olyuer ovþer any of þy route,
& fiȝte y wile wiþ hem her beo þay noȝt so stoute:
& if þat on of hem ne dar him self wiþ me fiȝte al one
Send hem boþe on þyn helf to fiȝte wiþ me ymone;
[&] if þay two ne buþ noȝt bolde aȝen me to fiȝte on stoure,
[Of] such þre y ne ȝyue auelde & þoȝ þer come foure,
[&] þoȝ þer come twelue þe beste of þy fered,
[B]ot if y slee hem sone helue ne kep y neuere ete bred.
[I] wil kuþe on hem my miȝt & dyngen hem al to douste.
Wheþer þay wille on fote fiȝt ouþer on horse iouste,
Send hem hider to me anan for ich hymen her diffye,
Ouþer by Mahoun þat made man þou schalt wel sore a-bye.
Y haue wyþ myn handes two y-slawe kynges tene,
So schal y þe now or þov go þat al men schal it sene.”
he dude his helm þan of is hed & set him doun þat tyde;
Of þyng he haueþ þer y-sed an answer he þoȝte a byde.

Kyng Charlys þe Sarsyns speche y-hurde & so dude al his host,
& how foule þat þe freke him furde blowyng such a bost;
He was atened of his envy he tok of hym so liȝte,
And asked of Rychard of normandy if he knew þat knyȝte
þat mad hem þer so peryllous & auauntid him þo so ȝerne.
“He ne telleþ bote lyte of ous be his wordes sterne;
Proutelich he auauntteþ hem wiþ xij. for to fiȝte.
Wiþ þe beste þat buþ of al my men & to dulfulle deþe hem diȝte.”

“ȝea,” quaþ Ri[chard], “with outen oþ y knowe him wel to wisse;
Hit is on þe grettest kyng for soþ þat dwelleþ in heþenisse.
In al paynye nys pryneȝ ne kyng þat berþ so gret a name:
þorȝ out þe werld of is beryng spryngeþ los & fame.
Ne douteþ he kyng ne Emperour þe value of a ryssche,
þar for hem folwyþ al þat flour þat in paynye ysse.”

þanne þe kyng gan waxe wroþ & aboute him gan be-holde,
& by seynt dynys a swer is oþ þat after þat tyme a nolde
Ete ne drynke no more þat day for none kynnes þynge,

Or on of hys in god aray had foȝt with þat kynge.

þe Emperour, sir Charlemayn a wondrede of þat man:
More wolde he wyte fayn & of Richard askeþ þan
What ys riȝte name was þat made such a slaundre.
“Sire,” said he, “sir Fyrumbras þe kyng of Alysaundre:
þys ys he þat be-lay Rome þy gode Citee,
& þyn relyqes bar away þe croune & þe nailles three,
Þat þou & þyne with strengþe of hond in heþnisse sumtyme wonne.
To cristenmen in many a lond gret sorwe he haþ by-gonne.”

Wan þe frensche i-hurde þys sore þay wern afriȝte,
Was non of hymen þat wolde y-wys profryem with him to fiȝte;
Euereche behuld on oþer tho bot ech man held hym stille.
Charlis bot is lippen tho for he nad noȝt is wille,

He clipede is neuewe duk Roland þat was aman of myȝte,
& prayede him faire to take an hond aȝen hym to take þe fyȝte.
Roland answerede wyþ egre mod & sayde so most he þe,
Leuere him were he were wod oþer hanged on þe tre,
Or he wolde euere after þan for hys prayere fiȝte
Wyþ Sarasyn ne with cristen man noþer in wrong ne riȝte.
“For ȝester neite wan we had fiȝt ȝonder out on þe playne,
A þousent þer we putte to fliȝt & x þousent þer wern sleyne,
& My felawe Erld Olyuer was þar y-wounded sare;
Alle ȝe hadden be a-slawe ther with sarsyns þat þer ware,
Ne had þyn do[ȝȝ]epers þe bet i-swonke ich & my felawes:
& to-niȝt wan þat þov were dronke þan þou laidest þy lawes,
& saydest þat þyn knyȝtes hore hadden wel betere ifyȝt
þan we þat ȝonge knyȝtes wore þat disconfitedem alle with myȝt.
þyn angre ous greuede sore wan þou toke of ous so lyȝt;
At al men knowt þat þar weore þat þov saidest ounriȝt,
þou madest þat auaunt, soþ to saye for to preyse þe selue.
Ac Be-hold aboute now y praye ouer and on euery helue.
Hwych of him wil take þe fiȝt aȝen þat Sarsyn strong;

For y ne wil noȝt by god almyȝt & wyt þat þyn owen wrong,
& ho so takeþ hit on þy part y swere by cryst in trone,
Of me neuere after-wart loue ne get he none.”

“A glotoun,” saide þe Emperer “entempre þou beter þy tonge,
If þow nere my cosyn þe neer wel heȝe scholdestou be honge.”
Wiþ gloues þat he þan had an hond þat with gold ibotened were,
In þe face smot he duke Rolond þat þe blod sprong out þere.
þe duk a syde þanne gan to sterte & drow ys swerd anon,
& wolde ys vncle þar-wiþ herte nad oþre betwen hem gon.

“Alas” quaþ Charlis þar a stod “wel sory now may y be,
Wan he þat ys my flesche & blod with wepne assaylleþ me:
& he þat scholde me socoury to ȝen myn enymys
Despyseþ me her dispytously & telt of me no prys.
Now y pray to god of heuene þat al þyng knoþ & seeþ,
Ne lyue he noȝt þys day til euene wyþ oute schentful deeþ.”
for wraþþe þan him crieþ þe kyng & het to taken him sone,
& swer he nolde ete ne drynk til he to deþe wer done.

Roland huld ys swerd a-drawe & swer bi god al one
Ho so neȝed him schold ba-sclawe & cloue doun to þe stone.
Wan þe frensche men ihurde þys þay douted him for to fonde,
þan was non sa hardy y-wys on hym to leyn no honde.

Oger spak for duk Roland & praide þe kyng to cesse,
& saide “sire, ȝe doþ hym wrong to smyten him on þis presse.
Wel ofte he haueþ socourd ȝow & of ȝour fon ȝov venged,
Wer for y rede cessyeþ now til eft hit may be amended.”

Charlis be-huld þan how ys blod ran doun of ys face
þe lasse him wondrede þoȝ ys mod til anger gunne him chace,
þoȝ he for him þan sory were no wonder for soþ hit nace
Amonges þe lordes alle þere ofte he saide “alace!
Fader, & sone, & holy gost wat schal y don,” he sede,
“Suþþe þe man y trist an most for-sakeþ me at my nede,
& draȝþ ys swerd bi-fore my fas to sle me ȝif he miȝte?
þat y so longe scholde lyue alas to sen hit with my siȝte!”

Duk Neymes þan him spak anon & sayde wordes wyse—
“At þis tyme, sir, now let him gon he wil him betre auyse;
ȝe habbeþ knyȝtes among ous her þe beste þat moȝe be founde,
Sendeþ anoþer doþþeper to fiȝte wiþ þat hounde.”

“By god,” quaþ þe kyng, “now it is so þat Rolond hit haþ for sake,
y knowe non oþre to tristyng to batail with him to take,
Out-take hys felawe Olyuere & he were hol & sounde;
ac he lyþ hert now with a spere & bereþ a gryslich wounde.”

As he þanne stod & þoȝte to wham he speke may,
þe tydyngge was to Olyuer broȝte þer he on bedde lay
Of þe sarsyn þat was y come & of þe kyng al so,
& how Roland haþ Charlys vndernome & wold noȝt þat batail do.

Wan þe Erld hit vnderstod þat Rolond hit nolde take
To fiȝte aȝen þe Sarsyn wod & al for wraþþes sake,
& non oþer ne profrede him noȝt þat batail to vnde[r]fonge,
Him was ful wo þan on is þoȝt & ofte sekede amonge;
Sone he arerd him after þan & lokede oppon is syde,
& saw is blod how [doun] it ran out of is wonde wyde:
Hys wounde was þo in yuel aray & for Angwys gan to chyne.
Olyuer tok his mantel of say gold peynt hit was wel fyne,
& rent hit al to peces smal & þer wiþ is wonde he diȝte,
& stoppede is wounde þer wyþ al & bond hure as he miȝte.
þan he clepede ys squyer Garyn, & til hym he sayde:
“Do þat myn armes sone be heer & help me y were a-rayde:
I wil fiȝte wyþ þat heþene kyng as crist me helpe & rede.
ne langede me neuere more do þyng þat toched mannes dede.”

Garyn þanne ansuerede aȝen “sire, wat hast þow þoȝt?
Wilt þu silf willes lete þe slen þy purpos ne preyse y noȝt.
By-þenk þe how þy blod ys schad & hast a grislich wounde;
How scholdest þou fiȝte þat art so mad wyþ þat heþene hounde?”

“Let of þy speche,” þe Erld hym saide “for no þyng wil y spare,
Bot y made til hym abrayde of blisse y were al bare.
To helpe my liege lord Charloun to batail mot y fare,
y wil hold vp his renoun wyþ al my myȝt & mare.

If y him faillede on þys nede wan Roland hit haþ for-sake
þer is non oþer, so god me spede þat wil hit vndertake:
ne schal no man bet proue is frende bot a-say hem on his nede,
y praye þe, Garyn, as þou ert hende go bryng þou forþ my wede.”
“Sir,” said he wel delfolly “þoȝ hit beo noȝt my wille
y wol þe armye sykerly þy purpos to fulfille.”
his armes he bryngþ him þanne anon & Olyuer gan himschride,
wiþ is hosen of mayle he by-gon nolde he no leng a-byde:
& suþþe an haberke al of steel on is body he caste,
Garyn hur lacede faire & weel & mad hur sitte faste.
His helm he setteþ on is heuede & fastnede þe auentaille.
Hautecler is swerd was noȝt be-leued he gurd him with saun faille.
Garyn his gode stede hym fette þat was in spaygne iboȝt;
þe erld lep vp wyþ oute lette his styrop trepede he noȝt,
And smot þe stede him to saye wiþ is spores of golde.
þe stede was god & lup a waye wel fifty fet i-tolde;
þat gode hors blessede he þo & louely strek ys mane,
He miȝte sikerly hym triste to hym semede wel by þane.
“Garyn,” quaþ Olyuer, “wel þe be þov hast wel kept my stede,
If y may lyue & come aȝe ȝelde y wil þy mede.”

Garyn him þankede & tok hym als his scheld with hym to bere,
& Olyuer hit heng a-boute is hals & til him tok a spere.
wan he was armed on horses bak a fair knyȝt a was to see,
a iolif on wyþ oute lak boþe strong & fers was hee.
God him spede for his miȝt now he takþ ys waye,
wiþ þe werste Sarsyn wil he fiȝt þat he dude euere a-saye.

fforþ þan rod he stoutely wel i-armed oppon his stede,
ys herte was god & sykerly serued him to do þat dede:
he lifte vp ys hond & blessed him þan & recomandedem to god almiȝte,
To Charlis pauylloun þe way he nam til hym rod ful riȝte.

As Charlys was in his greuance stondyng among his feren,
& counsailede with þe grete of fraunce & with ys doþþeperen,
Roland drow him a-side þare among hem he ne keem,
& þan he by-gan repentye sare þat he haþ greued his Eem.
Wel sore him greuede þat þe kyng was angred for ys sake,
þan had he leuere þan eny þyng had he þat batail take:

þer to wolde he þanne be fayne for schame ȝif he miȝte
ffor þat batail to dereyne profry hym forþ to fiȝte.

Olyuer rideþ wyþ sper & scheld in-to þe pauylloun:
Many was þe knyȝt þat him beheld wan he spak ys resoun:
To þe kyng said he among þe pres “y haue þe serued ȝore
In werre & eke in lond of pes wel seuen ȝer & more,
& euere suþþe y haue me raid redely to þy seruyse,
& ȝut i holde me wel apaid to don þe same gyse,
for y haue me preued on þy werre to fiȝte aȝen þy foes.
In many a lond boþ ner & ferre y gete me prys & loes;
y þank þe þat in many a lond my name ys kud aboute.
& namliche be cause of duk Rolond þe more me doþ me doute,
for siþþen to gaddre we furstly knewe neuere ous two to sterte.
We habbeþ be felawes gode & trewe in body & eke on herte;
he haþ me holpen in many plas syn we to-gadre come.
y þonky þat ȝow & godes gras þat he tok frendschip to me.
for al my seruyse y haue þe don y pray þe now a bone,
Oþer sond ne kep y non so þow hit grante sone.”

þe kyng ansuerede him a-ȝe “dure frend, say þy wille,
be it castel, burgh, outher Cite & ich hit wol ful-fille.
And wan we comeþ to fraunce more miȝt þou craue,
As god ȝyue þe gode chaunce ask on & þou schalt haue.”

þe Erld hym þonkeþ lome & til him gan to sayne:
“Graunte, sire, þe batayl to me þe sarasyn to fiȝte agayne,
for al þe seruyse y haue þe do y aske non oþer þyng.”
Alle þat herd him wondrede þo of is bold askyng;
& for he was wonded so sore þat is colour was neȝ a-go,
hymen wondrede wel þe more þat he therste hym profry to.

þan saide Charlis kyng “Olyuer, what hast þou þoȝt?
By-þenk þou art y-woundȝyng & neȝ þe deþe ybroȝt,
& art now al pal of hewe for þe blod þou hast schad,
& þy wounde ys ȝut al newe & no medecyn naueþ ihad,
how miȝtest þou now fiȝte þanne þy miȝte ys þe be reued,
wyþ þat myȝty heþene manne y rede þe þat þou leuet.”

“Nay,” quaþ O[liver], “be god of heuene for no þyng wil y spare,
noȝt for grete Citees seuene in what lond þat þay ware.

& if ȝe been a trewe kyng þat batail wil y haue.”

“Noȝt by my wil for noþyng” said he so god him saue.
þanne þer come bi fore Charloun Gweneloun & hardree.
Cristes cors come on hure croun for traytours wern hee!
As ȝe schul huren after þys or passede ȝeres three
þay be-traiede þe kyng & his war-for þai had hure fee,
an honged þai weren & to-drawe þer after boþe two,
As for traytours ȝaf þe lawe for traysoun þay had ido.
þanne wolde þay wel faȝe ȝif þei miȝt helpe to
þat sir Olyuer hadde be slaȝe & to þe kyng þay saide þo:

“Syre, hit ys ordeynt be parlyment among ous to ben yholde,
þat wat be rewarded be tweyre assent þe þridde assenty sholde:
Hit ys rewardet ous two be twyne þat Olyuer schal wende & take
þe batayl wiþ þe ȝond Sarsyne & do hit for þy sake.”

þe kyng answerede þis traytours “Gweneyloun & hardree,
For ȝour iuggiment out of cours haue ȝe muche maugree!
Now schal he to þat batail fare on him ȝe hit habbeþ ypilt;
& if þe sarsyn ouercompþ him þare certis ȝe bereþ þe gilt.
Body & saule mot y forfare ȝif hit be falleþ so,
Bot if ȝe boþe for-þynk hit sare ȝour lyues schul ȝe for-go.”
“So crist,” quaþ þay, “scheld ous fram care þat batayl mot be do,
& alþoȝ he ben a-slawe þare what mowe we do þer-to?”
By twene hem þan þay sede stille “ne come he neuere aȝen!”
For þat was al hure herte wille þat þe sarsyn schold him slen.

Charlis to Oliuer saide þo “god help þe, dere herte,
þat þou mote ouercome our fo & come aȝeyn in querte.
y hope þe scholde spede wel nere þy greuous wounde,
ȝut trist y to god þat so þe schal for þyn herte is hol & sounde.”

Wiþ þat com forþ Duk Reyner þat of Genyue duk was þo,
Olyuers fader, a knyȝt ful feer for him his herte was wo:
“Mercy, quaþ he to kyng Charloun my sone ys wonded sore,
Fram hym ys falle ys blod adoun how miȝte he fiȝte more.
He ys boþe paal & feynt & ȝut me greues more,

þat if he beo þer in batail atteynt þou lest þy los þerfore.”

þan him answerede Gweneylloun & Hardre in hure scorn:
“þov hast y dremed of venesoun þov mostest drynke a torn.
He schal do now þat he be-soȝte for we assentieþ to:
ho so wil or wil hit noȝt þat batail he mot do.”

“ȝif hym þy blessyng, swete Reyner saide Charlis kyng,
For fiȝte he mot wyþ þat sarsyn feer me semeþ bi hure tellyng.”
þe duk hef vp an heȝ his hond & blessede his sone þare,
& O[liuer] þat was wel fre to fond tok is leue to fare.
for him praiede many a wyȝt þat god him scholde spede,
boþe kyng, duk, erld & knyt scholde help him in þat nede.

Dvc Oliuer him rideþ out of þat plas in a softe amblere,
ne made he non oþer pas til þey wern met y-fere:
And wan he cam þer as he was þyderward he caste ys chere,
& fyndeþ þer sir Fyrumbras liggyng on þe erþe there.

Wan he saw erld Olyuer a tornþ him þat oþer side;
Aȝeyn him for to arise þer dedeyngnede he þo for pride.
þe knyȝt him neȝede þanne neer & spak til him þat tide:
“Arys vp, Sarsyn, þat ert so feer no lenger ne miȝtou bide;

& þat auantyngge þat þou hast mad & þou hit meyteyne wolle
Loke þat þou be armed sad & hele þy bare scolle:
y am come her .o. semple knyȝt y-redy with þe to fiȝte,
yf þou þyn auaunt perforny myȝt a-rys vp anon & diȝt þe.”

Fyrumbras on him glente ys eyȝe scornfullich & low:
“Lef,” saide he, “þy grete foleye y rede þe for þy prow,
For if þou yknewe me ariȝt my doynge & my creaunce,
þou noldest profry me no fiȝt for al þat gold of fraunce.
Al þoȝ y ben her my self al one a gret lord am y holde,
A kyng ycrounede on my trone þe richeste man on molde.
Fyrumbras is my name of Alysandre kyng y-tolde,
In tal þe worlde sp[r]yngeþ fame of myne dedes bolde.

Wyþ my werres y haue a-nyed muche of cristendome,
& spayne & poyle y haue distryed þe Citee eke of Rome;
þer slow ich þan [þe] pope prout & al his Cardynales þat yfond,
& alle þat wern of þe rout y slow hem with myn hond.

þanne tok ich þe croune of thorn & þe nayles three,
þat paynede crist wan he was born on þe rode Tree,
& send hem to þe Amerel Balaan my fader to present.
Muche del of cristendam y haue y-slawe & brent:

Fram babylony þat ys my owe tour in to [þe] rede see
Al þe lordes of honour hure londes holdeþ of me.
Ierusalem, naym, & ierico ich wan wyþ my prowesse,
& alle þe tounes aboute al so boþe more & lesse.
þe croys þat ihesus deyd an & þe sepulcre al so,
With dede of armes ich hem wan & relyqes many mo.”

þanne saide Olyuer “by my croun y hure wel by þy sawe
þow hast y-do distruccion myche to cristen lawe;
& hast al so y-mad envy wiþ christene men to fiȝte,
of alle oure ȝonder company wiþ .xije. þe moste of miȝte.
& y am her bote a demeyne kniȝt of þe realme of fraunce,
& am y-come wyþ þe to fiȝt for al þy grete bobbaunce.
Arys vp raply & þyn helm do on & aray þe on þy stede,
& grayþe þe to fiȝte wiþ me anon or elles y make þe blede.”

þe Sarȝyn gan to lawe smere & to O[lyuer] sayde þan:
“Wat wendest þou now so me a-fere þov art an hastif man,

Er y remuvie me of þys place þat soþe þou schalt me telle,
Of wat kunne comen þov wace & þy name wyten i wille,
& of þy comyng whar for it ys & ho þe hiderward sente.
y wol wyten þat soþe of þys & wat is þyn entente:
& wan þat y know it wyterly þe soþe þat þou saye,
þan schal y sykerly arise vp and me arraye.”

þan him ansuerede Olyuer wyþ sterne contynaunce:
“y am y-sent to þe heer by Charlis kyng of fraunce.
Charlis þe sente be me to say þov torndest to crestendome,
& for-soke þy false lay & to folloȝt sone þov come:
belyue þou scholdest on god almiȝt þat for ous gan blede,
& elles y chalenge wiþ þe to fiȝt outher y schal haue þy stede,
& fleo þov schalt of þis lond as a ladde doþ on þy fote.
Charlis sent to þee þis sond þou ne ge[te]st non oþre bote.”

“Christene knyȝt,” quaþ Fyrumbras “þou art a wonder gome:
þer is non haste in þys cas to fiȝt ȝut mowe we come.
Ac for þou tellest so litel of me ne were it for repreue,
By Mahoun, þat ys my vowee of þyn heued y wolde þee reue.
Ac tel me o þyng noþeles er we to-gadre fiȝte,

& say me soþ & no lees as help þee þy god almiȝte.
of C[harlis] þat ys ȝour Emperer of whame men stondeþ aye,
& of duk Roland þat ys so fier þe soþe þou me saye,
& ek of is felawe, Erld Olyuer tel me y þe praye,
And of duk Berard of moundisdier what manere men buþ þaye.”

“Sarsyn,” saide þe gode knyȝt “þat soþe schaltou here.
Charlis ys so strong in fiȝt he fyndeþ nowar is pere:
& Rolond ys so muche of myȝt so coraious & so fere,
þat nowar nys founde non so wyȝt wan he ys on ys gere.
Olyuer þe erld ys noȝt so god þe soþe for to saye,
Ac he ys a man heȝ of mod Sarasynȝ to yule arraye.
Onys y wiste oppon a day þat he slow kynges three
þat lyued on ȝour false lay & tweyne mad he flee:
Ac he slow Sarazyns on þat place [so doȝtilich þat t]yde
þat al þe feld y-strawed wace of hymen on euery syde.
Terry is sone duk Berard ys a noble knyȝt.
þer ys no doþþeper þat nys hard & strong iholde & wyȝt.
Now haue y told þe þyn askyng for þy fer arys vp sone

And do on þyn helm þou heþene kyng & let se wat þou canst done,
& bot þou þe raþere gynne to spring y swere by crist on trone
Sone getest þou euyl endyng with my swerd y wil þee slone.”

þan þe sarsyn huld vp ys hed after þes wordes felle,
& sayde, “knyȝt þou art a qued to make me such a spelle,
Litel prowesse for me it were wiþ a vauasour for to melle,
Wiþ my swerd þat ys here ellis y wolde þe quelle.”

“Sarsyn,” quaþ Olyuer, “let now ben þy prude & þy manace;
Or þe sonne hure sette þou schalt sen of þy blod ful þis place.
þow schalt þe ȝelde recreent ouþer her riȝt schaltou dye.”
þe Saraȝyn saide “verament y hope þov schalt lye.”
His scheld tok he þo til hym ner & laide vnder ys hed an hye;
Hym dredeþ noþyng of Olyuer no more þan of a flye;
For he was strong & coraious & heȝ man of parage,
Him semede it nas noȝt worþ a lous batayl wiþ him to wage.

“Christene kniȝt,” quaþ Firumbras “y haue of þe god game,
Tel me nov riȝt in þis plas what ys þy riȝte name:
& of wat kyn þou ert y come tel me al þat soþe.”
“Garyn,” quaþ O[lyuer], “Gwylmynes sone y tel þe wyþouten oþe:
At Perigot ich was y-bore a borgeys dude me gete.
y haue trauayld her be-fore wel herde for my mete,
Til ich me droȝ to courte-ward & an seruise diȝte me þare;

þan serued ich þe kynges styward [seuene] ȝer & mare:
He bar my los to Charlis kyng for my gode seruyse,
þat he ȝaf me lond & oþer þyng & halp me in þis wyse;
þe kyng suþþe mad me knyȝte to seruie him in is werre,
& he me sente wiþ þe to fiȝte com on ȝif þov derre.”

Wan O[lyuer] hym haueþ al itold Fyrumbras gan to smyle:
“Garyn,” quaþ he, “þou art ful bold bot lust to me a wyle:
Why ne sendeþ he duk Rolond with me for to fiȝte,
Ouþer olyuer with þe harde hond þat is so god a kniȝte;
Oþer duk bera[r]d of montdisdier ouþer Ogeroun þe wiȝte?”
“Parfay” ansuerede erld Olyuer “þay han of þe dispiȝte
þar-for y am to þe y-sent to spelie þai doȝty men:
for þoȝ y ben in batail schent it ys no lest for hem.
Arys vp now & don þyn helm þy scheld & [eke] þy gere,
& kep þe silue with oute herm & be-þenk þe self to were.
Ouþer be þe deþ þat y schel deye y ȝeue þe such a stroke,
þat þou him neuere schalt clowe a-weye wile þou þy lyf miȝt broke.

“By my fayþ,” quaþ Firumbras “haue þis wel in mynde,
Neuere ne faȝt y ȝut in plas “with man of lowe kynde,

Bote wyþ duk ouþer Erld of myȝt ouþer kyng y-crouned free.
þoȝ y slowe þe her in fiȝt what prys were þat for me?
Men wolde sayn y were to blame wyþ such on for to fiȝte,
Bote þou haddest a betere name þan Garyn a pore kniȝte.
Ac o þyng y schal now for þe do i dude it neuere to wiȝte.
ȝyf þov wilt assenty to in armes y wil me diȝte,
& lepe y wol now on my stede & bere to þe a spere,
with anoþer ryd þou to me wyþ a cors of werre,
Als so harde as þou mixt flynge on a-rede me on þe schelde;
y schal þe harmles lete gon & falle y wil on þe felde;
Tak þou þanne my gode stede & þy beste þer-wyþ þou do,
& to Charlis þou him lede & eke my scheld al-so.
Say him þanne as þy god þe saue þat þov hem y-wonne heer,
& ȝif he þenkeþ more to craue to me send he Olyuer,
Ouþer Roland, þat is so strong in fiȝt oþer þe scot Gwylmer,
Terry, ouþer Gy þe hardy kniȝt Berard, ouþer Ogier.
& if it [be] so þat on al-one ne dar noȝt þat batail take,
þeyȝ þay come euerechone nel ich hem noȝt for-sake.”

“þov spekest folie,” saide Olyuer “& makest muche delaye,

Wiþ þyn auaunt þou makest heer þou ne miȝt noȝt me amaye.
þy stede ys myn, y haue y-þoȝt wather þou wile or no,
þer-of schalt þou me lette noȝt þat hit ne schal be so.
þyn auaunt worþ dere aboȝt þyn heued þou schalt for-go.
To do þat batail þou hast i-soȝt al redy am y þarto.

Arys vp þer-for hastely & aray þe wel to fiȝte,
Ouþer y swere be þat Mary þat bar þat child of miȝte,
no lenger wil y spary þe for al þy grete bostyngge:
bote liggyng her y wol þe sle with-oute more drecchynge.”

Fi[rumbras] gan to waxe wroþ & vp bi-gan to sitte:
Were O[lyuer] lef, oþer wer him loþ þannes nolde he flitte:
Egrelich he be-huld aboute & lokede on þe kniȝte,
& saw þe red blod russchen out þorw is armure briȝte:
endelonges is side þat blod him ran & ful doun to þe grounde
þe sarsyn knew it wel by þan he hadde a greuous wounde.
& þan he askede of Olyuere þat houede þer him tabide;
If þat he any wonde bere in ys body þat tyde.
“Me þynkþ þou hast a wonde þere” said he, “in þy syde.”
“þer-of,” quaþ O[lyuer], “ne haue þou no fere,” & turnd him þat sorto hy

“þat blod,” quaþ he, “þov seȝe þo it comeþ out of my stede,
For he scholde ȝerne go his side y made blede:
Of þe hors it comeþ þat y sit on þat blod þat þou y-seȝe”
“þat ys lees,” saide he anon “þou blerest noȝt so myn eȝe,
Ac if i can þat riȝt arede þat blod him compþ of þe,
Fram vaste be-side þy nauel-stede as it semeþ me.
Ac by myddel þer hongeþ her a costrel as þou miȝt se,
hwych ys ful of þat bame cler þat precious ys & fre,
þat ȝoure god was wiþ anoynt wan he was ded & graued,
y wan hym wyþ my swerdes poynt many man haþ he saued.
For hwych man þat haueþ any wounde & beo þer-wiþ enoynt,
it wil don him be hol & sounde & maky him in god poynt:
& if he þer of drynke may beo þe deþ him noȝt so neere,
Sone he schel be on god aray & beo al hol & feere.
Go tak him now þer he hongeþ & dr[i]nk of him a stounde,
þan schaltou noȝt a-bide longe til þou be hol & sounde;
& wan þou felest þy body feer þe better þan miȝt þou fiȝte.”
þan him answerede Olyuer “y wil noȝt by þis liȝte;
& or we departye henne al hool þou schalt me vynde.”

þe Sarasyn sayd til him þanne “þyn heȝ herte wil þee schynde.”

Fyrumbras of Alysandre to Olyuer spak & lowȝ:
“Of what schap ys duk Rolandre tel me y pray þe nowȝ,
& ek of Olyuer þat is so wiȝt of what schap ys hee y praye,
As þou art a iantail knyȝt þat soþe þat þou me saye.”

Olyuer him answerede þan “be-hold me þat am heer!
for In al þyng þat þou auyse can such schap ys Olyuer.
Roland ys noȝt so long as hee ac more is he of myȝte,
& doȝtyere man on to see & sternere man in fiȝte:
ne faȝt he neuere ȝet in felde wyþ kyng ne Ameraunt,
þat he ne asloȝ ouþer madem ȝelde ys body to him creaunt.”

Fyrumbras ansuerde him agayn prouteliche & sayde:
“þoȝ þay wern her boþe twayn þay scholde me noȝt dure abraide,
& þoȝ suche foure were here be Mahoun & ternagaunt,
Ich hem wolde wel conquere wiþ my swerd trenchaunt.”

“Sarsyn,” saide Erld Olyuere “al day þou makest bost;
Wer al þyng soþ þat þou saist here þou were a grymly gost.
Arys vp anon & arme þe y ne wil no lenger duelle,
Oþer be þe lord þat schep lef and tree heuene & eke helle,
Bote þou arys vp on þy fet & schippe þe a-non to fiȝte,
A tweyne i wol forcleue þyn hed with my swerd her riȝte.”

Wiþ þat þe Sarsyn þat was þor wax wroþ on his herte
& bente hym brymly as a bor & vp hym gan to sterte;
& wan he stod appon þe ground huge was he of lengþe,
Fifteuene fet hol & sound & wonderliche muche of strengþe.
Had he ben in cryst be-leued & y-vollid on þe haly fant,
A bettre knyȝt þan he was preued þo was þer non lyuand:

Fyrumbras of Alysaundre was a man of gret stature,
& ful brod in þe scholdres was & long man in forchure.
Oppon is armure was he clad wyþ a cote-armure clene,
Of cloþ of gold it was mad & enbrouded with perlis schene.
He be-holdeþ oppon Olyuer egrelich as lyoun,
And by-gan to gon him ner & siggeþ þys resoun;
“Garyn, me meruaylleþ myche of þe þat art so meyne a knyȝt,
How þou darst entremetrie of me a-ȝen me to take fiȝt.
A ful gret pite me þenkþ it were for þou art so bold
To sle þe in fiȝte here oþer to take þe, if y wold.
Hit nys noȝt on my porpos her with no man to fiȝte
Bote he ben a kyngis peer & strong man eke of miȝte.
Wend a-wey þou vauasour & say so Charlis kyng,

‘þys day he falleþ in deshonour for is fol sendyng.’”

“What! ys,” quaþ O[lyuer] “þy prechyng icome to such an ende?
I ne schal neuere, by heuene kyng a fot ferther wende
Or y haue of þe þe heȝere hand ouþer sleyȝ þee on þis felde,
Outher þov schalt be recreant & maugre þy teþ þe ȝelde.
Tak þyn armys if þou wilt no lenger nel y þe spare;
On yuel deþ mot y be spild if ich þe byde mare.”
A lefte ys sper & drow ys swerd & smyteþ til hym-ward sare,
& þoȝte cleue him vn-to þe berd & til his hed hit bare.
þe Sarsyn anon bar of þe stroke with ys scheld þat a held an honde
& a quarter þer-of a smot þat it fel doun on þe sonde.

“Arme þe, Sarsyn,” saide Olyuer þan “hit wil be for þyn prow.”
“þou saist soþ,” quaþ he, “by ternagan þou haddest neyȝslawe me now.
Hadd y þat stronge strok y-take þou haddest to me ymynt,
For euere my bred had be bake myn lyf dawes had be tynt;
Ac for þou mentest me þilke stroke or ich ful armed were,
þov schalt abigge it al so hot or þat y take my gere.”

þe Sarsyn þanne a drow ys brond þat was so gret of strengþe,

& wan it was nakede on his hond vij. fet it had of lengþe,
Him self was eke strong & feer & is herte gan vp sprynge,
So þikke he smot to Olyuer as he miȝte flynge.
þe erld was war, & kepte him wel & laide til him with miȝte,
Ac þe Saraȝyn was ful fel & kepte is heued ariȝte.
His heued he kepeþ with is schelde þat ounhelid was & bare;
Bytere he þoȝte is whyle ȝelde þat hadde a-greued him þare.
To Olyuer þanne smot he a stroke riȝt on þe helm an heȝ;
þoȝ þat swerd wer god it noȝt ne bot bot doun by is chyn it seȝ,
& before ys scheld a-doun it glod & oppon is sadel it ran,
þorw sadel & hors þat swerd him wod þan ful doun hors & man.
þe Sarȝyn drow him þanne a-part & to O[lyuer] saide sanȝfaille
“þou ne schalt me fynde no cowart a liggeng man to saille.”
A sterte to his helm, & pult him aan & to O[lyuer] þanne a sede,
“If þou with me wilt fiȝte aȝan by Mahoun þou gost to dede.”

Olyuere stert vp hol & sound & spekeþ til him wyþ grame,
“Y diffye þe nov, þou heþene hound crist ȝyue þe muche schame!
Why hast þou my stede a-slawe wat hadde þat hors mysdo?
þy stede for hym now wil y craue & haue him er þou go.”

A leyde to þe Sarsyn strokes smerte riȝt als til his dedly fo;
& grete dyntes þanne þay gerte hir eyþer til oþer þo.

Now by-gynt a strong batayl be-twene þis knyȝtes twayne;
Ayþer gan oþer harde assayl boþe wyþ myȝt & mayne
þey hewe to-gadre wyþ swerdes dent faste with boþen hondes,
Of helmes & sheldes þat fyr out went so sparkes doþ of brondes;
So sterne strokes þay arauȝte eyther til oþer with strenghþe
þat al þe erthe þer-of quaȝte a myle & more on lenghþe.
þey weren so eger boþe of mod & eke so fers to fiȝte,
þat eyþer of hem þan þoȝte god to sle oþer if he miȝte.
Hit ne miȝt noȝt longe endure þe batail betwene hem two,
for neyþer ne knew of oþer mesure bot euere þay foȝte so.

Olyuer hym by-þoȝte þan his los was lost in londe
Bot yf he sleȝe þat heþene man & þer-for he gan him fonde,
& smot him on þe helm an heȝ & a gobet away a bar;
Ys chyke þat swerd þo cam so neȝ þat sum of is berd yt schar;
þe strok a doun him glente anon ac he wiþ is scheld him hente,
& elles had he his schuldre bon for-corvyn wyþ þat dente.
Fyrumbras saide til hym þan “maugre mote þou have!

Suþþen y was furst i-bore to man my berd nas noȝt so schave.”

þe Sarsyn by-gan to waxe wroþ egre, & eke fere,
& hef vp ys swerd, & til him a goþ & smot to Olyvere;
Al anoueward þe helm an heȝ ys crest a bar adoun,
& þe cercle of gold þat sat þer-bey þe perles wer worþ a toun,
& of ys auantaile wyþ þat stroke a carf wel many a maylle.
þan olyver profrede til him a st[r]oke & gan him for to saylle,
& þan by-gan þe stronge fiȝt betwene þes kniȝtes tweye;
As twey lyons þay furde riȝt þat wolde slen his preye.
þe Sarasyn sayde to þe knyȝt “by Mahoun þou schalt deye!’
þan said O[lyver] “by god almyȝt y hope þou schalt leye!”

Aȝeyn þey wente to-gydre thare & hur armure hewe a-sonder;
Hure strokes fulle so styþ & sare þay schulde so doþ þe þonder.
Helmes & hauberkes þay kutte a two wiþ hure strokes rounde,
& eyþer enpaynede him other to slo ac ȝut and þay no wounde.

Fyrumbras was aggreued sare þat O[lyuer] hym stod so longe,
& þan him wondrede wat a ware for he was so stronge.
He drew him þanne apart & sayde “y pray þe, iantaile kniȝt,
As þov louest þat ilke mayde þat baar þy god almyȝt,—
Wel y wot þou art ful gret of fame a bettere kniȝt wot y non,—

Tel me þer-for þy riȝte name Wat calleþ me þe at hom.
Wyþ many a man y haue y-fauȝt fond y neuere þy peer;
þe grete strokes þov havest me rauȝt sitteþ my bones neer.
þou toldest me to day or þys þy riȝte name was Garyn;
Hit is noȝt so, y wot to wys by Mahoun & Appolyn;
If þat Garyn were þy name y knewe it wel apliȝt
In tal þe world scholde sprynge fame of such a noble kniȝt.
Tel me now þer-for þat soþe as þou art gent & free,
& suþþe schul we to-gadre boþe falle to fiȝt a-ȝe.”

þe iantail knyȝt with-drow him þan & spak with-oute duelle,
“Herkne now, þou heþene man & þat soþe i wol þe telle.
Olyver ys my name riȝt a doþþeper y am of fraunce,
& am an erld & a knyȝt as have ich gode chaunce.
Y am Charlis Emys sone y-come of men of gode,
& in my moder half i am y-come al-so of kynges blode.
nov have y to þe her itold my name with-oute lye,
If þov art to fiȝte bold com on y þe diffye!”

þan ansuerede fyrumbras & saide to Olyuer,
“Y am now gladdere þan y was for now y haue my per.”
þan aȝen þai toke þe fiȝt with swerdes sherpe & kene,
Eyþer til other wiþ mayn & miȝt þe strokes were wel sene;
Harde þay foȝte to-gadre þo þus miȝty men of mayne,
þer was no reste betwene hem to bot laide on ȝerne beyne.

Wan eyþer knew what oþer was þe hardere þay gunne to fiȝte,
& to slen eyþer oþer in þat plas eyther dude ys miȝte.

Firumbras þe heþene kyng was a man of gret fertee,
& anpeynedem þanne þorȝ al þyng erld O[lyuer] þer to slee:
Siþþe þe tyme þat he was bore on batail ne com he non,
In-to þe day þat he com þore þat he ne ouercom his fon;
ne a-ȝen no man ne tok querel by-for þat in no lond
þat he ne hadde þe betere deel & eke þe heȝere hond.
ac now haþ he so longe y-soȝt ys peer he haþ i-founde,
& þat til hym worþ hard iboȝt wiþ-inne a litel stonde.
þey foȝten to-gadres þanne ȝerne þys wytherwyns wilde & wroþe,
& smyte strokes smerte & sterne in haberkes & helmes boþe.
Wiþ þe strokes þat þis frekes slente flyngande to-gader in fiȝte,
Hur helmes & haberions þay to-rente þat arst wer fair & briȝte,
& hure scheldes stronge & grete þey were al to-hewe;
Vnder hure boþen fete þan miȝte me þe peces schewe.

Olyuer laid on þikke y-now so dude Fyrumbras,
Bot with enterlas þat a þrow to þe Sarasyn bi-tid a cas:
Olyuer smot is swerd away fer out fram ys honde:
þan was þe Sarsyn in gret affray & niste wat was to donde.

Ac O[lyuer] was a corteys kniȝt & a-syde by-gan to stonde.
“Tak vp,” said he, “þy swerd ariȝt & to kep it beter þou fonde.”

Fyru[mbras] was glad, & toke vp þat brond quiklich at a brayde,
& wan it was on is hond to O[lyuer] he spak & sayde,
“þou hast y-lyued þy lif to longe to do me such a spyte,
y wil wiþ þat selue bronde þy whyle wel a-quyte:
þyn outrage schal be dure a-boȝt by Mahoun, my god al-one;
þy god ne may þe helpe noȝt þyn heued þou schalt for-gone.
A-fore þis day ne toke y nere of no man such a schame.”
“ne make it noȝt so,” quaþ Olyuere “for oþer weys þee schal grame.
Or we departe þis ilke day such tyme schalt þou sene
þat þow schalt sayn a weleway þat y cam in þis grene!
ne schaltou by þat tyme noþyng ȝilpe of þy doynge here;
þy Mahoun ne schal þe noþyng helpe þat þov ne a-biest dere.”

& þan þey waxe wonder wroþe þys knyȝtes styþ on stoure,
& eyþer of þis frekes boþe til oþer ȝaf many a schoure.
þey fouȝte to-gadre þar so longe & ȝyue strokes sore,
þat þe fom of hure mouþ out spronge so doþ out of þe bore.
þe Sarsyn þat was noþyng feynt smot Olyuer in þe side,
þorȝ is scheld wyþ gold ypeynt þe sterne strok gan glyde;

of scheld & haberk a-wey a schar al þat he arauȝte,
& al þat side he made baar with þe selue drauȝte,
nad he stert þan a side with-oute wordes mo,
Wiþ þat stronge stroke vnride is lifdawes had be do.

þe Sarsyn þan him vnderstod he had inert him sore,
& saide, “þou lesest þyn herte blod þou turnest agayn no more!
Charlis wiþ þe hore berde doþþe lite Auaylle,
Suþþen þat y schal wyþ my swerde sle þe in bataille.”
Oliuer ansuerede & swor ys oþ “bi god, þou spekst folie;
Arst y wol þe make wroþ ȝut her y þe diffie.
for ȝut am y sond & heyl & ne fele no maner sare;
y schal acquite þy trauayl hennes or þov fare,
þow schalt ȝulde þe creaunt to me in þys felde;
To Charlis suþþen y wil þe graunt & to hym y wil þe ȝelde.”

þan by-gan a ferly fiȝt be-twene þis two baroun,
Eyþer enpeynede him with al ys miȝt to dyngen oþer adoun.
þay smyte to gadre þo so feste with grisly dentes grete,
þat þe soot fram hem gan breste & made hure chekes wete.

Kyng Firumbras þe stronge O[lyuer] ascriede þo,
“þov endurest me to longe þy lif þou schalt for-go,”

þan him spak erld Olyuere “þou ne afferest me noȝt so!
Other tydyng schalt þow here er we departe a-two.”

Al so scharply þes men of mayn þan smyte to-gadre aȝy
So doþ þe fyr & wynd & rayn an heȝ al on þe sky,
With wilde strokes þat þay streken eyþer on oþer asonder,
Helmes & scheldes þar-wiþ to-breken & schilde, so doþ þe þonder.

Firumbras wax wod on Olyuer þat he hym wiþstonde miȝte;
A toke is swerd, & ȝude him neere to slen him had he tiȝte;
A smot him on þe helm an heȝ þat was of god entaille,
A qua[r]ter þer-wiþ a-way þar fleȝ & for-carf ys cappe of maille;
Wyþ þat stroke a schar away a gret del of ys hare;
Ac god halp O[lyuer] þat best may þat he nas wonded sare.

O[lyuer] egerlich þo gan to lok & smot til him wiþ ire,
& eymede ful euene to ȝue þe stok þe sarsyn on is swyre.
Wan Fi[rumbras] þe strok come seȝ þat Oliuer til hym mente,
His scheld held he vp an heȝ to kepe hym fro þat dente;
Ac As he huld is scheld vp so discouert was al ys side,
& O[lyuer] aperceuede ful wel þat þo & no lengre nolde abide,
Bote Til him a gerte a stroke anon & egerlich he hym sette:

Vnder ys brest þe dent him com ac ys costrel fferst him mette;
þe costrel þat was with yre y-bounde þer-with a-two he carf,
& þatlykour þer-on schad on þe grounde & þatswerd on ys syde swarf,
& Oþer half spanne for carf a two of is hauberke ymad of maylle,
& of is Iupoun hit dude al-so þat was of riche entaylle,
& wiþ þat strok doun hit do (?) nam v. ribbes of ys syde,
& wel neȝ ys guttes þat swerd him ran & made hum a wounde ounride.
His guttes þer-with gunne out falle & doun gan renne þat blod;
& ȝut stod he strong & stif with-alle & ne batedede noȝt is mod;
Of herte was he hol & sound & pleynede him þe ȝute no þyng,
Ac sone he knelede oppon þe grond & þankede heuene kyng,

þanne clypede til hym ryȝt erld Olyuer and sayde:
“Haue mercy of me, iantail knyȝt for Marie sone þat mayde.
& For his loue þat al may see y pray þe, sle me noȝt;
Hit is my wille cristned to bee certis þat is my þoȝt.
My godes þat y me affied on buþ noȝt to haue on mynde,
þay moȝe no more do þan a ston & þat y now auynde,
ȝif hit by-tideþ so þat y may be y-wareschid of my wounde,
y schal scaþye hem niȝt & day þat bileueþ on Mahounde;
Cristendom by me schal encressed by sykerly if y may scape;

& for payenye, so mot y þe ful yuele wil y schape;
þanne schulleþ peynymes cristned be & hure lay for-sake.
& þe croune of þorn & þe naylles þre aȝen þanne wil y betake,
& al þe relyqes þat y haue y-take aȝeyn þe riȝt,
Y wil ȝeld op, so god me saue & bileue on god almiȝt.

y ȝylde me her to Charlis kyng þe beste knyȝt y-core
þat is owar now lyuyng oþer euere was her be-fore.
for þou me hauest conquerid her i put me in-to þy grace;
y pray þe iantail Olyuer for-ȝyf me my manace!”

Wan Olyuer had him al yherd is herte gan vp sprynge,
In-to is scaberke he potte his swerd & went him to þat kynge,
& huld him vp, for he wax paal bi-twene ys armes rounde,
& laid him doun þar-wiþ-al ful softe oppon þe grounde
& pulte is bowels in ageyn & is goffanoun he gan to berste;
To make a bond he was ful feyn & bond hem in wel feste.

þan saide Fi[rumbras] til him aȝe “do let me hennes bere,
þat y ne daye in þis degre cristned y wolde y were.”
“Certis,” saide þe ientail knyȝt “y wolde wel fayne fonde,
If y wiste how ymyȝt make þe vp to stonde;
Ac þow hast so myche y-bled þat paal ys al þy face,
Wharfor y am sore adred to remuwe þe of þys place.”

þan Fi[rumbras] enforcede hym þer to arise vp-on ys fete,
& stod hym vp by Olyuer & saide wordes swete:
“Iantail knyȝt, of me tak rewþe as þow art god & hende,
& help me hannes for þy trewþe for y am neȝ myn ende.
Myn herte him ys a-go ful ner ychaunged is al my chere;
y pray þe, iantail Olyuer let me noȝt daye here.

Go now, tak my gode stede þat tyed ys at þis tree,
& he schal wel in thys [my] nede bere boþe me & þee.
& tak al-so my swerd ploraunce þat hongeþ her by my side,
þe hefþe of hym doþ greuaunce to my wounde wyde;
& help me y were on hym an horce y pray þe, ne spare þou noȝt,
& y wil me selue enforce þat y wer on hym broȝt.
Set me be-for þe on is bak & þe silue be-hynde þanne,
& so schalt þou wyþ-oute lak safly haue me hanne.

Ac y warne þe of a torn war-for y wolde þow spedde:

þys dai erly by þe morwn wan y ros of my bedde,
y leuede ȝond on a buchyment sarasyns wonder fale,
In þe wode þat ȝonder stent ten þousant al by tale;
& in þat ilke brusschet by v. þousant of oþre and mo,
y-horced & y-armed ful sykerly fro þe top in-to þe to.
Ac y for-bed hem alle þere wan y departede hem fro,
þat non of hem so hardy were fro þenne þay ne scholde go,
Or ich hadde sum viage done & til hem come a-geyn.
Go we hanne þer-for sone & elles þow worst beleyn.”

Wan O[lyuer] y-hurde how he spak in herte a was agreued,
A tok þe stede þat was colblak & softly vp him heued.
Fir[umbras] was hard, & suffrede wel þoȝ hit him greuede sare,
& O[lyuer] lep vp be-hynde hym snel & forþ wiþ him gan fare.
Ac al þat trauayl he cast away as ȝe schul here sone,
For or þat he eft kyng Charlis say ful miche had he to done.

Of þys anbuschymenȝ þan brek out Bruyllant of Mount mirree,
& Sorty brant of Combles with hure rout & þe kyng of Mantreblee,
Arrenor Gwychard & Moredas Gayot and Angwyree,
Wyþ al þe power þat þeer was xv. þousant & three.
Olyuer sone y-seȝ þat cas & swyþþer bi-gan to haste.
But he was encombred wiþ Fyrumbras þat he ne may ride faste.
Ac wan þe frensche men hit seȝe & knewe how þe Sarsyns come with bost,
Hure commune horn þanne þay blewe to assemblie to-gadre hure host.

Charlis neuew duke Roland þan was sore amayed,
So wern þe doþþepers y vnderstand for þay wern oun-araid,
Ac as ȝerne þay miȝte þay caste þanne on hure gere,
Boþe kyng, duk, erld & knyȝt & al othere þat þar were.

þe Sarsynȝ gun prykie a-raundoun & Olyuer bi-sette aboute,
þe woundede man þan he set adoun & þouȝte askape þe route.
& þan he prayde to god almiȝt schold saue him þat ilke day,
As wys hit was in trewþe & riȝt þat he tok þat iornay.
& al-so he prayde for Fyrumbras þat no man him be-reue
Til he wer cristned þorȝ godes gras & y-broȝt to þe riȝt beleue.

& þan he be-gan to prykie bet & nolde no leng[er] abide,
Ac wiþ Sarsyns he was bi-set þat come on euery side,
þat he ne miȝte a-scape þe ferd so þikke þay fulle him aan;

& þanne at arst drow he is swerd & defendede him as a man.

þanne was O[lyuer] þat sembbly knyȝt al-one among is fon;
He hewþ on Saraȝyns with al is myȝt & sleþ of hem manyon.
Wham he smyteþ wyþ his dent to deþe a leyþ hem doune,
Helmes & haberkes he al-torent & doȝtylich scherth hure croune.

þan O[lyuer] bleynte hym a-side & þoȝte a-scape þe route,
Bot þanne þer cam til him ride lampatrys þe proute:
þe sarsyn bar til him a spere ac for O[lyuer] haþ no schelde
þe strong strok awey to bere is bodi a-side he felde,
& ferlich til him a rod a-gayn wiþ wel egre mode,
& wiþ is swerd a clef is brayn þorw-out helm & hode:
þe sarsyn ful doun ded anon & Olyuer tok is spere
& eke ys scheld & heng hit on þer-wiþ him-self to were,
And meteþ with Turgys on þe feld & rideþ til him for tene,
& ȝaf him a strok on þe scheld þat was ful wel y-sene;
þorw scheld, haberke, & aketoun þat sper him gan to glyde,
þorw-out is body he bar him doun & ded he ful þat tide.

& þan he drow out hautecler is swerd ful scharp igrounde,
& smot a saraȝyn þat cam him ner & ȝaf him deþes wounde:
Wiþ four othre meteþ he þan þat of is way him lette,
& smot him boþe þorw hed & pan & fuld hem on þe flette.
Alle þat O[lyuer] areche miȝte wiþ hautecler he dust him doun.
þanne þe sarsyns waxe afriȝte & flowen him what þay mown.

To himward come þar ride þan Moradas & kyng Kargys,
& þe kyng of Combles, sir Sortybran & eke þe kyng Margys,
þus kynges a-scried erld Olyuer & gradde til him ful hye,
“þou ne askapest noȝt ous, pautener bot her riȝt þou schalt dye.”

þan Olyuer gan drede hym sare & faste prikede away,
And com þo wel neȝ him þare Firumbras as he lay.
By þat tyme hadde sir Firumbras ys haberioun of y-caste,
& to Olyuer clepede in þat cas & said til hym an haste:
“þys hauberk y rede tak of me & cast it oppon þyn owe,
þe sikerlukere þer-inne moȝe ȝe defendy ȝour body aþrowe.
þow hast þer-to grete nede wyþ sarsyns þow art enclos,
þe grete god þe helpe & spede & kepe þe fram þy fos!”

þan Olyuer hym þonkede ȝerne & schridde him with þat gere,

& anoþer way gan he terne þat Firumbras y-founde nere.
Aboute Olyuer þan ful faste þay prikede wiþ spers & scheldes
& sturnelich on him þay þraste Sarasyns in tal þe feldes.
Ac euere he meteþ hem with is brond & deleþ strokes sounde,
Wham so he hitteþ wyþ ys hond a ȝaf hem deþes wounde.

Kyng Kargys wes sturne & prout & Olyuer gan ȝerne assaille
With ten þousant sarsyns stif & stout wel y-armed with-oute faille.
Olyuer gan hym sturie about & for-hewþ hem plate & maille
xxti slow he of þat rout þat non armure ne miȝt hem vaille;
& þan he meteþ wiþ þat kyng & rideþ til hym wyþ mod,
& smot him wiþ is swerd keruyng a sterne strok & a god;
þorw helm & scolle he clef him doun & þorȝ auentaile & þorȝ hod
þorw haberke & þorw is aketoun attes nauel þe dent a-stod.

þan laid he on þe Sarsyns wykke faste be euery helue,
Ac euere þay fulle on him so þykke þat ouneþe he kepte him-selue.
þe sarsyns wente til hym wiþ strengþe & laid on him al aboute.
Ac O[lyuer] kepte hymen is swerdes lengþe euerechone wiþ-oute,
& smyteþ til hymen with myȝt & mayn & kepþ him be euery syde;
Summe he smyteþ in-to þe brayn & summe ȝaf woundes wyde;
A sterne gret schour a ȝaf hem þar & laide hem a doun ful þykke.
Neuer nas o man þat bettre him bar amonges so mony wikke.

þan cam til him a Sarsyn prout prikyng wiþ rendoun,
& smot his stede wiþ a sper þorw-out þat he ful ded adoun.
O[lyuer] stert vp. & til hym wond & ȝaf him a stroke wyþ miȝte,
Wyþ al þe strengþe of boþe ys hond & to-clef ys body riȝte.

þe Saraȝyns wroþe gunne to waxe & as wode men þanne þay furde,
& layde til him wiþ sper & axe wyþ Gysarmes & with swerde.
ys scheld þat was wyþ golde y-batrid & eke wyþ ire y-bounde,
Sone þay had hit al to-clatrid þe peeces leye on þe grounde.
ys helm, ys coyphe, ys habryioun alle þay hadde to-rente,
& eke ys noble aketoun was [al] for-hewe & schente.
Ac al þe whyle þat he was sounde he delte dentes sare,
Til he hauede so many a-wounde þat he ne miȝt fiȝte no mare.

þan þe Sarsyns on him runne & set on him hondes fale,
To þe erþe þay habbeþ him wonne & broȝt is body on bale.

His hondes þan þay toke riȝt & leyden him on his bake be-hynde,
& al so harde as tweyne myȝt wiþ a corde þai duden him bynde.
& suþþe þay han y-take a clout & duden him more tene,
& byndeþ þer-wiþ is eȝene about for he ne schold noȝt sene.
An hakenay þay toke þat þay founde & set him þer-on god spede,
& vnder ys wombe ys legges bounde þe sykerluker hym to lede.

þan þe knyȝt is mone gan make & sayde, “alas alas!
Charlis kyng, for þy sake me is bi-tid þys cas.”
He saide, “Charlis, whar ert þou in hwam my trist was euere?
A Rolond, felawe, help me now ! for þou ne failedest me neuere.”
Til hym þan saide kyng Moradas “a-noþer schal be þy songe,
y ne schal noȝt ete, by Mahoun is fas til þow be heȝe an honge.”

Now ys Olyuer þus ytake among is enymys.
Moradas þe kyng of wham y spake clipeþ his companys,
L. Saraȝyns þanne a chees among hem þar and sede:
“Wendeþ bi-fore & ledeþ þees to Egremoyneward with god spede;
Fareþ faste on ȝour way bote euere habeþ on mynde,
þat he be kept in yuel aray & we willeþ ȝow kepe behynde.”
þay went hem forþ on apendant with olyuer þat was ibounde,
þat hewles was of semblant for he bar many a wounde.
His blod gan renne a-doun ful toȝt by þe waye as he gan ride,
& ȝut þe sarasyns ne spared him noȝt bote beten euere & cride,
“Turmentye we wel þes cristene þef þe wile he is ous amonge,
For he hath don ous gret reprefe to morȝe schal he ben honge.”

By þat was araid duke Rolant & saw hymen awayward schake,
“Alas,” said he, “god vayllant, “Olyuer my felaw ys take!
y-seeþ þat ȝonder company how þay him ledeþ away;
now spede we him to socoury for godes loue wat ȝe may!”
Roland prikede is stede of prys so dude scot Gwylmer,
So dude Geffray and Aubrys & Berard of Montdisdier;
So dude þe duk of Borgoygne Sir Gy þat hardy was & wys,
& eke Richard of normandy & eke sire Alorys;
& duk neymes of Baueer Wyþ þe gray hore berde,
Basyn, Terry, and Ogier & Charlis wiþ al his ferde.
þay criede “a mont ioie! seynt dynys ” after hem as þay gunne ryde,
“ȝe token yuele þe knyȝt of prys & yuele ȝou schal be-tyde.”

Rolant ran to Cornybourgh & smot him with a spere,
A persched ys scheld & bar him þorwh & slow hym for al ys gere.
Berard in þe same plas mette wyþ Turgys,
& Oger deneys wyþ Athenas & Richard wyþ Margys,
& sire Gyoun of Borgoygne wiþ Brudelan of mountbys,
So þat euerech with-oute ensoygne haþ a-slawe his.
To þe Sarasyns ȝyuen þay hard batail & slowe him alle aboute;
Wan hure speres gunne to faille hure swerdes þay drowen oute.
Of summe þay smyte of legges & armes & of sum þe heuedes þay gerde,
& summe þay stykede þorȝ guttes & þearmes so foule with hem þei serde.
Als furde þay wiþ þat ilke hepe wiþ-oute tales mo,
As doþ wolues among þe shepe wan þay comeþ hem to.
Al þe feldes þo wern y-fuld of dede men on þe grounde,
Saue an vewe þat leye & ȝulde & abide hure deþes stounde.

þe whyle þys batail was don þer as y ha told ȝow here,
þe oþre of wyche y tolde of eer chacyeþ forþ Olyuere,
And leggeþ on hym strokes harde as he riȝdt y-bounde,
þe wyles þay of þe rerewarde buþ y-laid doun to grounde.

Wan þay y-seȝe þat þes frensche men ȝyue hem so scherp a schour,
Faste a-wayward gunne þay flen þay sparede no deshonour.
Ac þe kyng of Combles, sir Sortybran þat was hure gouernour,
þanne cryede, “lordes, comeþ aȝen & schewyaþ ȝour vygour!
We wolleþ sle þus frensche her riȝt in clene bataille.”
Wiþ þat þe Sarsyns reliede hem þer & þe frensche men gunne tassaille.

þe Sarsyns þanne with gode herte foȝte & sparede hem naȝt,
Harde strokes & eke smerte to þe frenschemen þanne þay raȝt.
þay caste til hem gleyues & launce falsarȝ & feþerd dart,
& slowe þer-wiþ kniȝtes of fraunce & ȝaue hem batail hard.
Gwater þay a slowe þen & Gwylmyn þay duden al-so,
And of othre frensche men wel thre score & mo.
So sherplich þo on hem þay fulle þes Sarsyns al wiþ strengþe,
þat þe frensche men þai made reculle wel an akers lengþe.
þanne þay asayllede Scot Gwylmer & toke him a-force fyne,
& eke sir Berard of Moundisder & Geffray of Langeuyne;
& þe ferþe þay token al-so þere sir Aubry, a noble knyȝt,

& alle þay arn of þe doþþepere þat þo buþe taken in fyȝt.

þus barons weren take wiþ force & harde y-bounde y trowe,
And suþþen y-set alle an horce & awayward with hem þay drowe.
Ac wan Charlis hit wiste & seȝ for hymen hym gan to maye:
Ofte a cride to his host an heȝ “now prikeaþ knyȝtes, y praye;
If þay hymen ledeþ þus away my doþþepers þat buþ y-take,
þanne ys my worschip lost for ay certes for þat sake.”
þanne miȝte me sen þe frensche men after þis Sarsynȝ chace,
þay huld hur scheldes bi-forn hem & harde hem bi-gunne enbrace.
At aualyng of an hulle þe frensche han þey of-take,
& wanne þe frensche men on hem fulle þe Sarasyns gunne to quake,

þan comencede a batail newe by-twene þes hostes two,
þe Sarasyns sone þay al-to-hewe þat þay of-token þo.
Rolond drow out durendal þat schon so siluer briȝt,
For O[lyuer] hym was wo wyþ al þat he ne had him in siȝt.
Ac suþþe þat he ne may hym seen a þoȝte þan or he wente
Amonges hem þer a-wreke is teen sone wyþ swerdes dente.

þe furste he mette hiȝt engwylard a Sarsyn of gret renoun,
þorȝ helm & coyphe þat wern hard he clef ys hed a-doun;
He fel doun ded oppon þe ground is lifdawes wern ido;
“Rest,” quaþ he, “þou heþene hound” & anoþerne he lawte þo,
& ȝaf him a strok al on ys yre with durendal is brond:
His heued gerte he fro þe swyre þat it tomblede on þe sond.
Al þat he areche miȝte a dust hem doun to dede.
þe Sarasynȝ wern of him affriȝte & prykede away god spede,
& ledeþ wiþ hem þe ryche prysouns þat þay habbeþ y-take,
& þay folȝyeaþ after wiþ rendouns wel sory for hure sake.

Roland prykede after blyf for þe loue of Olyuer þan,
& potte an auenture ys owe lif to rescuwy þat doȝty man.
Ogier deneys on Bryafort wiþ him prikede al-so,
And ȝaf Roland god coumfort þat chyuachee for to do.

Now chacieþ þay þe Sarseneys þis noble kniȝtes tweye,
Ouer mountayns & ouer valeys ne dradde þai for non aye.
To rescuwe þis barouns gode euere þay prykede faste,
As noble men & heȝ of mode þat of noþyng wern agaste.
Ac al þat þay of-take miȝte as þay prikede þo,

With dent of swerd þay sloȝen him riȝt & prikede forþ after mo.
þus þay prikede, þuse two baroun hure frendes to rescowe,
Til þe sonne was neȝ go doun & gan to sitte lowe.
Sory wer þey for hi ne miȝt hure pruwesse fulfille þore.
To Charlis host aȝen þay tiȝt be-hynde hem fer þoȝ þay wore.

Wel longe hadde þys chas y-lest of þys knyȝtes tweyn,
þe Sarsyns fleȝe & noȝt ne sest war-for þay turnde aȝeyn.
Al ful were þe weyes almost of sarasyns þay han a-sleyn,
Ac for Rolond haueþ is purpos lost þan was he noþyng fayn.

Charlis saw þe sonne neȝ set þat red þan schon & lowe,
In his pauillouns to haue recet þiderward gan he drawe.
& wiþ his host he tornde aȝeyn wiþ a wel yuele chere,
& euere he siȝte & gan to seyn ‘Alas’ þat he cam theere:
“Alas Olyuer, my gode kniȝt for þe myn herte ys cold.
Alas! þe tyme þou scholdest fiȝt with þat Saraȝyn bold.
Alas! now buþ myn barouns wyȝt fro me y-take in hold.
Alas! þe tyme þat in mi siȝt þis mischef falle schold.”

Duk neymes ihurde ys mone & saide to þe kyng,
“Auenge þe her-of eft sone & let now þy mornyng.
þyn barons schulleþ be delyuered wel wiþ þe hilp of god almiȝt,
& þe Sarasyns, be þay noȝt so fel schullaþ abigge þys ounriȝt.”
þan kyng C[harlis] swer is oþ ne scholde he neuere be fayn,
Til he had him mad hem wroþ & his barons gete aȝayn.

As þey ride so on þe way sechyng on þe playne,
þey founde Firumbras þar a lay vnder a tre of frayne.
Wan Charlis y-saw him war he was he neȝhedem & sayde,
“Maugree haue þou, Fyrumbras for þy foul mysbrayde;
y haue y-lost Erld Olyuer þys day for þy sake,
& duk Berard of Moundesdier & oþre þat buþ y-take.”

Fyr[umbras] herde what Charlis saide & made a grete syȝyng,
oppon ys arm ys heued a layde & humbliche ansuered þe kyng,
“A charlis, kyng of fraunce ne spek þer-of no more;
y haue ynow of greuaunce & ȝut me ys wers þer-fore.
Erld Olyuer with strenþe in fiȝt haþ me her conquered,
& y til him am trewe y-pliȝt & haue myn oþ y-swered,
þat y schal euere fro þys day þe heþene lay for-sake,

And beleue in cristene fay & folloht to me take.
y suffrie ynow of sorwe & pyn my syde ys al to-tore,
& if y daye her sarsyn y wot y am y-lore.
For þe loue of þilke crist þat þou lyuest on,
Help me þat y were baptist in þe holy fanston:
For wer ich mad a cristenman & my wounde faire y-helid,
Heþemen schold y so greue þan þat þay shulle sore y-felid,
& þay þat now buþ Sarasyns schold turne to cristene lay,
& elles þay scholde þolye pyns for hure false fay.

þe croune of þorn schal y ȝeld vp & þe naylles three
þat pyned ȝour lord wan he was put on þe rode tree;
& oþre reliques riche y-now whar-of y haue plentee,
y schal hem ȝelde aȝen to ȝow Charlis kyng so free.
Be þe saule þat y bere & as god lese me of my greuaunce,
Me greueþ more for Olyuere þan of my owe penaunce;
Ac If y be helyd by help & cure of my wounde wyde,
Alle þey schulle abbigget dure þat token him in þat tide.
For godes loue, sir Emperour tak pite of me here,
It turneþ ȝow to gret deshonour & y daye in þis manere.”

Wan Charlis had herd þis answere is herte to himward feld;
He het .iiij. kniȝtes him arere & bere him forþ on a scheld.
Softe þus knyȝtes þan him bere to þe kyngis pauylloun
& of hur handes ne let him nere til Charlis het set him doun.

Charlis hemself & sire Oger ounarmede him þo anon,
& wan he was sengle amoung hem þer hy auysed is schap echon.
Brode scholdres had he with-alle & brustes ful quarree,
Wyþ longe sydes & middel smalle a wel schape man was hee.
With Browes bente & eȝen stoute and lokede so þe facoun:
To seche þe worlde al aboute ne was man of fairer fasoun.
Alle þat him be-hulde þan among hem þai saide þere,
þat Olyuer was a doȝty man wan hym he miȝt conquere.

A wel fair kniȝt was Firumbras ounarmid wan he lay,
Ac ys Fysage al discolourid was for is blod was gon away;
thre siþes a sounede afforn hem þere for angwys of ys wounde,
By-fore þe lordes þat þar were wiþ-inne a litel stonde.

Charlis tok pite of þat siȝt an archebisschop a clepede anon,

And het him sone þat he wer diȝt to blessy þe holy fanston,
þat he were fulled þat ilke niȝt & ymad cristenmon.
þe prelat dide al so he hiȝt & plungede him sone þer-on.

þan was cristned sir Firumbras a man of gret deffens,
ys name ther y-chaunged was & was ihote Florens,
ac þoȝ me tornde þar ys name as þe manere was,
Euere ȝut after a baar þe same & men cliped him Firumbras.

Wan he was cristene man ymad on a bed þan was he laid,
þat with riche cloþes was y-sprad & ful faire araid.
Charlis clipede ys leches þo & ȝerne gan him praye
þat þai scholde til him go is wounde to enserche & saye.

At is heste þey wente þer-to & softe gunne taste is wounde,
His lyure, ys lunge & is guttes al-so & found hem hol & sounde.
þan saide þay to Charlemayn þay wolde him vndertake,
þay wolde with-inne monþes twayn hol & sound him make.
“Doþ,” quaþ he, “þat faire cure & siker ynow ȝe beo,
Of ȝour warysoun ȝe schul be sure wan þat ich it seo.”

þanne saide þe Emperour “iherid beo god almiȝt!
Had y now erld Olyuer myn herte were al lyȝt:
& myne oþre barons gode þat þe Saraȝyns han y-take.”
þan set he him doun drurymode & dropede for hure sake.

Torne we aȝen in tour sawes & speke we atte frome
Of Erld Olyuer & his felawes þat Saraȝyns habbeþ ynome.
þe Saraȝyns prykyaþ faste away as harde as þay may hye,
And ledeþ wiþ hymen þat riche pray þe flour of Chyualarye,
By hilles & roches swyþe horrible on hur cors þay wente,
And er þay come to Mantrible neuere þay ne astente.
Ouer þe brigge þay gunne ride þat was ful huge of lengthe,
In þe Cite þat nyȝt to abyde to kep hem þer in strengthe.
Wiþ hure prisouns þay comen in þat were ytake be chaunce;
þe draȝtbrigge was drawe vp after hem for drede of þe host fraunce.
Sone þay ryse vp-on þe morwe & to Egremoygne þay toke þe way.
God kepe þe prisouns out of sorwe for carful þay were þat day!
Wanne þay come to þe castel ȝate hure hornes þay blewe faste,
þe porter alredi was þer-ate & let hym in an haste.

þe heghe Amerel sir Balan þat was on his halle an heȝ,

Faste þyder þanne he ran wanne he hymen come y-seȝ,
& wiþ hem al-so sir Lamaȝour a kyng of heþene londe,
& wan þay comen doun of þe tour after tydyngges þay gunne to fonde.

Bruillant, þe kyng of mountmirree of is stede him liȝte adoun,
þan amyral þanne saluede hee in þe name of sire Mahoun,
þe Amyral of hym axeth sone wat tydynge þay had y-broȝt;
“Tel þou hem me riȝt anone and for no-þyng hele þou noȝt.
haue ȝe taken duk Roland & Olyuer his felawe,
& wyþ Charlis foȝt wyþ hand & hys doþþepers a-slawe?”

“Nay,” seyþ he, “by seynt Mahoun it is noȝt as ȝe sayn;
We buþ discomfyt & sleyn a-doun wiþ þe kyng Charlemayn,
& þy sone sir Fyrumbras þat fauȝt with a knyȝt of fraunce,
Be name ne know y noȝt wat he was ac þar is betid a chaunce,
þat Fy[rumbras] by him ys ouercome as þay foȝte in felde,
& to cristendom haþ him nome & to Charlis kyng is ȝelde.”

Wan þe Amyral haþ iherd þe kyng in sowenyng gan he falle;
Ac wan he awok of his soȝnyng loude he gan to calle,
& wrong ys hondes & saide, “alas ys my sone y-nome?
My ioye ys lost For Fyrumbras wat man is he bi-come.

Alas! what sorwe haþ he don þat was so hardy & wiȝt,
þat he was encombred so for on to yeld him to such a knyȝt?
V. hundred y saw aȝen him gon & he slow alle in fiȝt,
& now ys he take among is fon y-lost ys al my miȝt.
& if he is turnd to cristene lay alas þanne is hit wers,
Leuere me were by my fay he were to-drawe wyþ hors.”

þe Amyral saide þanne aȝeyn “tel me what is þe knyȝt,
þat was so miȝty man of mayn to ouercome my sone in fiȝt.”
Bruyllant saide, “so mot y þryue þes moste man in siȝt,
þat stent ibounde among hem vyue her by-fore ȝow riȝt.”

“Aha!” quaþ he, “is þes þe þef? þe deuel him mote for-gnaȝe,
þat ouercom my sone þat was me lef & broȝt him to is lawe!
By Mahoun, þat is my god in pref ne schal y noȝt be fawe,
Er y sen him haue mischef an-hanged & to-drawe.”

Wan þay herd him þrete þus þe frenschemen þar þay stode,
Olyuer saide, “help, iesus þat boȝtest ous wiþ þy blode!
& felawes,” he saide, “confortiaþ ȝow wel & for noȝt þat may be-falle,

þat non of ous is name ne tel auysyeþ ȝow wel with-alle:
for wiste þe Ameral sykerly of þe doþþepers þat we were,
for al þe gold in cristenty non of ous wolde he spare,
þat we ne scholde to deþe gon be hangid & to-drawe,
Ouþer be demembrid euerechoun & broȝt of lyues dawe.”

“As þy wil is,” saide þay þo “we willeþ alle heere.”
To hem þan wente Sarsyns two & ounarmide Olyuere;
þe bond þat is fysage was bounde wyþ to stoppen is louely siȝt,
þay ounbounde & is felawes siþ þat were al men of miȝte.

þan was Olyuer al colourlees for þe blod þat he had schad.
Wan þe Amyral y-saw al wat a was for wraþþe he wax neȝ mad,
And til him a wente anon & askede hym what he hiȝt:
“Sire,” said he, “Angwyron of france a pore knyȝt,
To serue Charlis in bataille ; him self me dobbede riȝt;
y ne haue no þyng with-oute faille ; bote wat y may wynne in fiȝt.
& my felawes þat her beeþ knyȝtes þay buþ fol sure,
Ac þay ne haue namore þan ȝe seeth hure hors & hure armure.”

“Alas,” þan sayde þe Amyral “how is þys afare?
For my sone þat y louede wel of blisse y am al bare.
& now y hopede þat þuse had y-ben dukes & Erldlis of fraunce,
& [þay] ne buþ bote demeyne men þis is a sory chaunce!
noȝt for þat ȝe schul wel sen þat þay schul haue greuaunce.”
Quyke he het þay scholde hem flen with-oute more distaunce.

þanne saide kyng Lamasour þat stod him faste bye,
“y rede þe, sire, for þyn honour a-staunche þyn herte hye;
For to slen suche vauasours what miȝt hit profetye?
Enprisone hem her wiþ-inne þy tours & so þer let hem lye.”

þe Amyral þo wiþ-drow ys mod ys herte was ful of grame;
& clepede ys iayler þer a stod brytamoun bi is name:
“Tak,” he sayde, “þys vauasours & to prisoun þou hem lede,
& pote hem to sorwe out of cours y hote þe oppon þy mede.
Bynd hem herde wyþ yre & steel & pote hem in stokkes of trow,
& loke þay fare noȝt to weel bot kep hem harde ynow.
And ȝe, lordes, þat han hem take goþ now alle y-same
& helpeþ him for my sones sake þat þay ben maked tame.

& namlich þis ilke chef feloun þat haþ me þus anuyed,
Lokieþ he be in such prisoun þat sone he be distruyed.”

þan wende forþ þe iayler & tok til hym socoure,
& ladde wiþ hymen erld Olyuer & þe oþer barons foure.
Wan þey comen þer the prisoun wes wiþ yre þay bounde hem faste,
& left hem þer al mete-les & so fro þeym þay paste.

Wan þey wern in prysoun þare þay criede & made hure mone,
And saide, “lord, how schul we fare in prisoun her al-one.
As þow seest boþe fer & ner sittyng on þy trone,
help ous, lord, whyle we buþ her & kep ous fram our fone!”

Floryppe on hure chambre seet þe Amyral is doȝtre dere;
Sche was a mayde fair & swet & hurde hure dulful bere,
& þe grete noyse sche herde also þat among hem y-maked was.
Sche clepede hure maydens to hur þo wyte sche wolde þat cas.
Florippe, þat maide fair & gent hur maidens þan tok anon,
& out of chambre doun sche went þar þat folk gan gon.
Wan sche cam þar þay were sche askede of on & on,
Why þat noise was maked þere amonges hem euerechon.

On ansuerede as it was & told hure al & some:
How hur broþer Fyrumbras cristen man was bi-come,
& how þat þilke stronge knyȝt þat wan hym in bataile
Wyþ four othre men of myȝt wern put þo þer in baile:
And how þay criede, & made hure mon as þay in prisoun sete.
Sone sche leuede hem echon & þan iayler gan sche mete,
For hure broþer sche gan to wepe ac sone sche had ido.

Wiþ hure maydens at an hepe to þe iayler is sche go;
Sche takeþ a syde Brytamoun a conseil, & gan him frayne:
& askeþ what buþ þay baroun in prysoun sche herde pleyne.
“So Mahoun ȝyue me gode chaunce ma dame,” gan he sayne,
“Hit buþ kniȝtes out of fraunce þat were wyþ Charlemayne.
þus buþ þaye þat han oundo þy brother, sir Fyrumbras;
& many of oure þay habbeþ al-so y-sleyn on many a plas.
On þer ys amonges hem þer a bacheler fair of syȝte,
In þis werld ne saw ich er so fair y-schape a kniȝte.
He conquerede sir Fyrumbras in batail þar þay fiȝte,
now haþ he in prisoun herde gras & more til him is tyȝte.”

“Brytamoun,” þanne saide sche “let me wiþ hem speke a þrowe
For to wyte wat þay be & hure couyne y-knowe.”
“Dame,” said he, “for drede of gyle y ne dar noȝt þa it be so:
þy wyt wolde turne with-inne awhyle haddest þou leue þar-to.
þy fader me for-bed al-so þat for þyng þat miȝte be-falle
þat to no man ne schold y þe dore vndo with hymen to speke or calle;
& y wil don ys commaundiment þy speche ys al in vayne.
For þe ne wil y noȝt ben y-schent i tel þe in certayne.”

“Wat! harlot gadelyng,” saide sche þan “mote þou be heȝe an-honge!
How answerest þow a iantail womman þat budeþ þe no wronge!
þou schalt abye it if y can ȝe ȝut or come oȝt longe.
þe meede þat þou schalt her for han wel sone þou schalt afonge!”

& þan sche preynte with hure eȝe oppon hur chamberere þar sche stod.

þat mayde was boþe wys & sleȝe & knew ful wel hur mod,
In-to þe chambre sche sterte anheȝe rennyng as sche wer wod,
& tok vp a strong staf þat sche seȝe hwych was herd & god,
Vnder hur mantel sche hidde þe staf & turnde aȝe wel faste
& hym to hur lady sone sche ȝaf & to-ward þe prisoun sche paste.
Wanne sche was þe dore affore sche gan be-holde aboute,
& sayw þer no man þat was bore with-inne ne with-oute,
Saue Brytamoun abod þe iayler þat of hur þan tok wonder.
þe prisoun dore þan wend heo ner & putte hure staf an vnder
As sche wolde þe dore to-breke sche gan þo hebbe & pynge:
þe iayler þan þyderward gan to reke to letten hur of þat þynge;
Sche lefte þe dore & wend him ner & lifte vp þe staf with mayne,
& so on þe heued sche set him þer þat out sterte al is brayne.
“Rest,” quaþ sche, “þow sory wyȝt god ȝyue yuele chaunce!
now schal y speke my fille riȝt with þes knyȝtes of fraunce.”

þe keyes sche tok of him anon & ounlok þe dore an haste:
By-twene hymen þanne euerechon þay lift vp þat bodi faste,
& in-to prisoun þay gunne hem gon with þat cors vnwraste,
& in þe dupe pit þer þay wer on sone þas hit caste.

þan were þus prisouns alle of þe fallyng i-pot in fere,
So harde amongen hem hit gan falle þay wende þe deuel it were.
Florippe het a damesel briȝte hastelich gon & fette
A gret torche & hym aliȝte sone wiþ-oute lette.

þe damesel dude ase sche hiȝt & com aȝen ful sone,
& broȝte a torche brennyng briȝt & sperde þe dore anone.

Florippe hure drow to anoþer part & þar an dore oun lekes
þat drow to þe putte ward & doun in the pyt sche strekes.
Wan sche to þe prisouns was y-come of hymen sche asked þare,
What þay buþ þat þar buþ nome & wannys þat þay ware.

“Damesel,” saide erld Olyuere “as god me ȝyue god chaunce,
We buþ knyȝtes alle y-vere y-born in douce fraunce,
And buþ Charlis men þe Emperere & vnder his liegeaunce.
þe Ameral haþ y-put ous in prisoun here & doþ ous gret greuaunce.
We buþ her wel herde y-bounde with gyues & cheynes grete,
Lyggyng on þys pittes grounde with-oute drynke & mete.
By god þat made þis werlde rounde me were leuere my lif for-lete
þan her to þolie þe stronge stounde þer wormes doþ ous ete.
For honger our bodies waxeþ feynt & þolieþ moche pyne,
War-for damesel as þov art gent ȝyf ous sum what to dyne.”

Flo[rippe] tok wel gret pyte of þys iantaile knyȝte,
& þus þanne answerede sche “ȝow be-symeþ to beo men of miȝte,
ȝe schul ha mete, so mote y the & drynke y-now at riȝte:
Ac arst þow schalt sykery me & þy treuþe surly plyȝte,
þat þou for me schalt don a þyng þat y schal the saye,
& ther-to ben myn helpyng by the power þat þou maye.”
“Certes,” said Olyuer, “my derlyng y wil don at þy paye,
y nolde þe faile, be heuene kyng in payne þar-for to daye.
ȝyf y schal for þe fiȝte ȝyf me mete & drynke,
& suþþe arme me at my riȝte & y wol for þe swynke;
& if y schal þanne gon & mete wyþ þe Sarsyns þat buþ abowe
Doggedlich y schal hem grete swetyng for þy loue,
þoȝ þer be of hem two hundred y wil slen hem helue.”
þat mayde þan gan wax awondred & þoȝte by hur selue
þat he was doȝty man ynow suche dedes to fulfille.
Flo[rippe] saide, “sir, for þy prow y pray þe hold þe stille.
To auaunt þe her in þis plas it is ful gret folie,
It miȝte hermye ȝow alle in cas if my fader miȝt it spie.”

þan him spak sir Berard þe erld of montdisdier,
þat was þe fairest kniȝt of regard of alle þe doþþeper;

“Comly mayde of kynges kende þe corteyst þat i knowe,
Fayr of face now beo our frende and we schul ben þyn owe;
& For þy loue þat art so hende we schul boþe ryde & rowe,
& þylke þat buþ to þe ounkende þay schulleþ be broȝt ful lowe.”

“Certis,” saide þat faire flour “y þanke þe swete wyȝt,
þow couþest wel louye paramour me semeþ a lady briȝt.”
“ȝea for soþ,” quaþ scot Gwylmer “ȝe habbeþ aredid ariȝt,
In many a lady fer & ner his loue haþ he y-pyȝt.”

þanne was þat mayde fayn wan sche wiste hure wille.
After Maumecet hure chamberlayn þanne sche sente stille,
& het to brynge with him anon anuylt, tange & slegge.
& sone he com wyþ euerechon & broȝt hem on is rigge.
“Oundo þis prysouns on & on” Florippe til him gan sigge,
“þey schulleþ out of þis sory won & her no lenger ligge.”

Maumecet couþe ful wel þat craft & put him anon þar-to:
Of al hure chaynes he haþ him raft & ek hure vetres oundo.
Sone þay stode oppon hure fete and god þay þankede þo.
And þe damesele fair & swete with hure sche made hem go,

By an old for-sake ȝeate of þe olde antiquytee
Sche made þys barouns passye ate þe damesele þat was so fre.
Maumecet þe torche afforn him baar brennynge fayre & briȝte,
And ful pryuyly ladde hem þar in-to hure chambre riȝte.

Florippe is in-to Chambre gon pryuiliche & stille,
& þys kniȝtes wiþ hure ecchon as it was hur wille.
Wan þay were wyþ-inne ibroȝt aboute þay gunne be-holde
So riche a chambre & so y-wroȝt ne saw þay neuere on molde.

þe walles of þe chambre were araid for þe nones,
y-maked of ful riche gere of coral & riche stones,
þe wyndowes wern y-mad of iaspre & of oþre stones fyne,
ypoudred wyþ perree of polastre þe leues were masalyne,
Al þe coples cipres were & þe raftres wer al-so,
And þe bases þat hem bere wiþ golde were bi-go:
þe celynge with-inne was siluer plat & with red gold ful wel yguld.
ne sawe þay neuere by-fore þat a place so faire ybuld.
þe chambre stod oppon þe se amidward a roch of stone:
þer-inne duelte þat maide fre as chef of al þat wone,

& with hure maide Ioyaunce þe kynges doȝtre of Floyre,
Clarymounde & mayde Floraunce & þat fayre may Baudoyre,
& oþre maydens elleuene burdes briȝte on boure;
xv. þar were of hem ful euene duellyng in þat toure.

Ful noble was þe ryche aray þat in þe chambre was.
þat vessel was of golde gay þat scholde be tyn & bras.
þe dossers were of ryche pal y-brouded al wiþ golde,
& þe beddes of sente þorw-out-al as þarto falle scholde.

To a wyndowe wente þes barouns fre & ther þay loked oute,
þay seȝe þe waȝes of þe se harde to-gadre route.
As þay auysede a-boute oueral þe wardes þat þer wore,
þe wawes walwede a-geyn þe wal a sper schaft lengþe & more.
“Parfay,” þan saide erld Berard “þys tour is strong to wynne,
For any kyng it were ful hard wyþ assaut to comen inne.”

þe wyle þis barouns ley out þan & tolde hure tales rounde,
To Flo[rippe] com hure maystres gan þat hiȝte Maragounde,
“Doȝtere,” sche saide, “wat men buþ þeese þat þou hast of prisouny-broȝt?
þy fader loue þow schalt lese for hymen as y ha þoȝt.
þe longe man wyþ þe pale fas þat ys erld Olyuer
þat ouercom þy broþer Fyrumbras ful wel y knowe hym þer:
þat other wyþ þe crollid her þat stent hym faste by,
þat ys Berard of mountdisdier & þe þridde ys Aubery:
þe ferthe þat stent hymen bytwyn þat is Scot Gwylmere;
þe fifthe ys Geffray Langeuyn of france a doþþepere.
ne schal y neuere ete no more bi Mahoun, þat ys my lord,
Or y ha told þy fader fore þy doyngge euery word.”

Wan þat mayde y-hurde hure speke chaunged was al hure blee;
Til a wondowe sche gan to reke þat lay out to þe see;
& atte wondowe sche lynede out hure angre sche þoȝte awreke.
Hure maistresse þanne sche clipede aloud & bad hur with hure to speke.
Marigounde compþ til hure renne & hure hed til hire gan layn,
Flo[rippe] stod vp & preynte þenne to-ward hure Chamberlayn,
& aȝen sche laid hur there & fur out sche bent hure þo,
& to whyte what hure wille were hure maistrasse dude al-so.

þyderward þe Chamberlayn hym faste ran þat hur cast y-knew ful wel,

& By þe legges lifte he þe schrewe þan & schef hur out ech del.
þan ful doun þat olde trate in-to þe salte see,
& Flo[rippe] þat was þanne þer ate turnþ hure in faire aȝe,
& sayde: “Maumecet my mate y-blessed mot þou be
For aled þow hast muche debate to-ward þys barnee.”

Wan þys Frenschemen wiste of þis al how it stod ariȝt,
In herte þay hadde ioye & blys & þonked god almiȝt.
Flo[rippe] þanne til hem wendes & spak til ȝam & saide:
“Confortyeþ ȝow, my leue frendes & buþ noþyng amaiede,
Syþe ȝe buþ her on þis clos at my owe ledyngge;
Ne drede ȝow noþyng of ȝour fos bot leteþ away mornyngge.”

Sche caste hure eȝe on Olyuer & saw him al be-bled;
þat mayde þan hym neȝed ner & askede war he hed
On his body any wounde & Olyuer sayde, “ȝee!
Wyþ swerdes and speres scharp igrounde y haue take three.”

“Parfay,” saide þat burde briȝt “þou schalt be hol anon,
& recuuer y al þy myȝt maugre al þy fon.”
Sche fet him a drench þat noble was & mad him drynk it warm,
& O[lyuer] wax hol sone þas and felede no maner harm.
Muche him wondred of þat cas & þan gropede he euery wounde,
And founde hem þanne in euery plas ouer al hol & sounde.

& þan she dude hem to drynke and ete of þe beste þat miȝte bee:
& seruede hem alle at þe mete & tauȝte þat sche was free.
Sche confortede hem with Al hure miȝt & bad hem be glad & blyþe,
And hy hure þankede faire aplyȝt & ete & dronke swyþe.

Wan þay had ete & dronke ynow þe bord sche het arere,
Ryche garnymentȝ forþ sche drow & by-tok hymen for to were.
þan said she: “lordes wel ȝe knawe þat y haue do myche for ȝow
Suþþe y haue ȝow of prysoun drawe agayn my fader prow:
y do hym wrong ȝow to saue Syn Olyuer þat her ys now
My broþer in batail ouer-come haueþ & is worschip þer-with oundow.
y knowe O[lyuer] swyþe wel he ne may noȝt to me be hud,
noþeles ne drede him neuer adel for me ne schal he be kud.
Now wolt þou Oliuer þat couenant holde hwich þov me be-hete?
As þow saidest þat þow wolde wanne þow in prysoun sete.”

“ȝe,” said he, “þat wil y do do say me now þy wille.”

“þat wil y noȝt,” quaþ sche þo “til þou me han sakred tille.”
þan O[lyuer] huld vp his hant trewely for to holde
By is power þat couenant þan spak she til hym & tolde,
þat a knyȝt þar was of fraunce þat sche hadde longe y-loued;
hwych was icomen of gret lyaunce & a noble knyȝt aproued.
þe knyȝt þat was so gret of fame was cosyn to kyng Charloun,
& Gy of Borgoyne was þe name of þat bolde baroun.
“Wan þe Amyral my fader, Sir Balan waste Rome Citee,
þar saw ich þanne þat noble man to don a dede free.
Lucafer of Bandas a kyng of gret renoun,
On a stede y-armed was and rod to þat Baroun,
And bar til hym wiþ a spere to ha sleyn him in þe feld;
& þe knyȝt þe strok away gan bere manlich wyþ is scheld.
þe iantail kniȝt þan drow ys brond & ȝaf him a stroke wiþ mayn,
þat hors & man adoun he wound & leye þer-on þe playn.
Fro þat day in-to þys myn herte haþ he yraft,
Ne kepte y neuere more blys were he to meward laft.
Wolde he be my worldly make & weddy me to wyue,
For his loue wold y take cristendom al so blyue.
As þou art a trewe knyȝt do & help now wat þou maye.”
Olyuer saide: “bi god al-miȝt damesele y schal a-saye.”

Now let we be þis Barouns ther speke we of other þyng.
Olyueris fader, þe duk Reyner com to Charlis kyng,
Ther he was among is host & spekeþ on hys resoun:
“For þy sake my sonne ys lost þat was a bold baroun,
To mo[r]ȝe erly wan it is day to sechen hym wil y fonde,
& bote ich him aȝeward gete may for sorwe y go to schonde.”

Wan þe Emperour haþ hurd him speke of him he toke pyte,
On is fet sone gan he reke & Roland þan clipeþ he:—
“Cosyn,” saide he, “þoȝ hit be so þat hit falle in drede,
A message for me þow most do þat toucheþ a mannys dede:
To Egremoygne-ward scheltou fare to morwe wan it is day,
To þe Amyral Balan þat is thare and belyfþ on þe false fay.
Loke for noþyng þat þow ne spare to tellen him as y say.
On myn half say him þat he me restare þat he haþ mystaken away,
And specialiche myn barouns free hot him in myn helue,

þat he hymen hastelich ȝelde aȝee as he wol saue hym selue.
And if a doþ noȝt as y say & tarieþ þer wyþ to longe,
y wil do take hym on a day & on galwys heȝe an honge.”

þan hym spak duk Naymoun that was his counseyller,
A gret lord was he of renoun & of fraunce a doþþepeer.
“Certis, sire, ȝe buþ noȝt sleȝ to sende til him Roland:
By-þenk þat he ys þy cosyn neȝ and al þyn other hand.
Duk Ro[land] is a man of myȝt þe doȝtyeste þat lyþ to fraunce;
þanne the to lese suche a knyȝt it were a sory chaunce.
Myn herte me ȝifþ þat ȝif he went and takeþ þat iornee,
þat þou ne seest hym no more verament & þer-for auyse þe.”
“Wel depardieux,” quaþ þe kyng “ne schal he noȝt gon al-one;
Wend þow wiþ hym, my derlyng my message schul ȝe done.”

By-fore þe kyng com duk Basyn þe þridde doþþeper,
& of is speche by-þoȝte him & neȝede Charlys neer.
“Sir,” said he, “me þynkeþ now be þat ȝe goþ aboute,
þat riȝtself willes þou þenkst oundow þe beste of al þy route.”
“Certis,” quaþ Charlys, “and þou schalt gon wyþ hymen & be þe þridde,
þat schal my message to þe Amyral don and do now as y bidde.”

þan com forþ a doþþeper Rychard of normaundye,
And sayde to þe kynge ther “sire, þow dost folye
In suche a message for to sende of al þy lond þat prys,
To don him sle ther & to schende amonges þyne enymys.”
“Aha” quaþ kyng Charlemayn “now is þis wel by-þoȝt,
þat Rolond ne is felaws twayn þe contreye ne knoweþ noȝt.
þou schalt ben hure iantail gyde & my furþe Messager;
For þou knowest by euery syde þe contreys fer & neer.”

Vp a sterte after þane a doþþeper of fraunce,
þe duk Terry of Ardane A baroun of gret lyaunce.
“Sir,” said he, “what hast þow ment wilt þow þyn barons spille?
If þay goþ, þan buþ þey schent þay comeþ þe no more tille.”
“Wel depardieu,” quaþ Charlis þo “greyþe þe on þy gere,
þow schalt be þe .v. þat schal go my message for to bere.”

Vp þan aros oppon ys fet sir Ogier þe Denys,
& spak to Charlis thar a seet & sayde on his deuys;

“Sir,” saide he, “y ȝow praye as ȝe buþ of kynges flour,
Al þys doynge leteþ away & kepeþ ȝour honour.
For if ȝour barouns þat buþ fre wendeþ in þat message,
In aunture ys hure comyng aȝe fram þat sory vyage.”
Charlis saide to hym þan wyþ a stordy chere;
“y knowe þe for an hardy man & of my lond a pere,
Such a message for to don ne ys non bettere here.
Go þou al-so with hem ecchon & be my messagere.
Cryst of heuene ȝow alle saue my messagers alle sixe!
& ȝut þe vij schulle ȝe haue ȝour felaschip to make wixe.”

Sir Gy of Borgoygne stod faste bye þe vij. doþeper
Charlis on hym caste ys eyȝe & bad him come neer:
“Sir Gy,” quaþ Char[lis], “y loue þe wel for þow art of my blod,
& euere y hope þat y schel for þow art wys & god:
A doȝty knyȝt & hardy ynow to don al mannys dede,
& canst ful wel as y trow gon in such a nede.
þar-for Gyoun, by god of heuene wyþ þes othre þou most gon;
þan haue y barouns seuene my message wel to don.”

þe nyȝt hure neȝehede faste þe day was neȝ ago,
þe lordes buþ þan a-paste wyþ-oute more a-do.
þys messagers agayn þe morwe a-rayd hem for hure message.
god saue hem alle fro sorwe þay takeþ an hard vyage!

On þe morwe wan it was day & þe larke by-gan to synge,
þys messegers come in god aray alle by-fore þe kynge;
Wel y-armed þorw-out al þyng euerechone þey ware,
& toke hure leue of Char[lis] kyng on hure message forþ to fare.
Char[lis] bi-tok hymen god almiȝt þe heȝ kyng of heuene.
Hure way toke þay þanne riȝt to Egremoygneward ful euene;
To þe Amyral ward, sire Balan on ys castel þar he lay.

Many was þe iantail man þat for hymen bad þat day,
þat god hem grauntede grace & miȝtes to aȝe come in god aray:
& forþ hem wendeþ þes noble knyȝtes & takeþ hure iornay.

Lete we now þys lordes fare god leue hym wel to spede!
And turne we aȝen þar as we ware & of þe Amyral y wol rede.
For his sone, sir Fyrumbras & is Sarsyns þat wern a-slawe,
Sory & wroþ ynow a was riȝt al so sayþ þe sawe.

Vij. kynges þo made he come afforn ys owe presaunce;
Peynymes þei were alle & some & vnder his liegiaunce.
Among hem seuene on þar was þat was chef of alle,
Ys name hote Moradas þay comen to þe Amyralle.

Moradas askede for wat nede þat þay wern of sent.
þe Amyral ansuerede for a dede “y-hyreþ now þantent.
Lordlynges, wel ȝe wyteþ alle how Char[lis] þe kyng of fraunce
now is oppon my lond afalle with prude & gret bobaunce,
And he þenkþ my lond conquerere & to don ous alle schame.
Bot arst y þenke hym affere & alle hise to grame.
Wendeþ þer-for to Morymond y-logged þer he lys,
And siggeþ to þe cristene hond Char[lis] of parys,
Ys cristene fayþ þat he for-sake and be-lyue on Mahone,
& hastelich myne amendes make & ȝylde aȝeyn my sone,
& eke al þe realme of fraunce þat he hur holde of me,
þorw-out al in god liegeance for euere-more in fee:
& þat he fle fro þanne a-way & lete my lond in pees.
& yf he ne doþ noȝt as y say þat neuere ne wil y sees,
Til y haue him distruyed & alle þat y fynde of his;
for he me haueþ so sore anuyed wendeþ & siggeþ him þys;
& ȝif ȝe meteþ with any cristen man baroun outher knyȝt,
lokeaþ þat ȝe legge hem an & sleþ hem a-doun wyþ myȝt.”

Sir Mora[das] saide to þe Amerel “þys message ys muche to drede.
þys frensche men buþ lyther & fel wan þay hereþ oȝt of quede,
& if we schul don þys message we ne comeþ noȝt alle aȝeyn.
We wolleþ noþeles do þat vyage þer-fore to ben a-sleyn.
þat y ne say it for no drede ȝe mowe it wel deuyse,
Do we wolleþ wel þy nede with-oute any feyntyse.
Me selue þy message y wil abede in such a manere gyse,
þat, bot y be taken oþer dede an hundred hit schulleþ a-gryse.
Wiþ my swerd scherp y-grounde hure crounes wol y schaue;
&, bot if my sawe soþ be founde maugre mot y haue.”

þe sixe saide þay wolde al-so & faste þay made bost
þat to Char[lis] þay wolde werche wo & eke to al is host.
Sone þay wern araid ariȝt þus vij kyngis y-vere,

In stedes þat were fair of siȝt & eke on riche armere.
Alday þai riden & noȝt ne aliȝt to don þat ilke cure,
Til þai come to Mantrible at niȝt & wolde abyde þere.
On þe morwenyng wan it was day forþ wende þes kynges seuene,
To morymond-ward þay toke þe way as he lay ful euene.
Faste þay passede ouer al þe weys þey knew ful wel þe cost;
Ne sparede þay hulles, noþer valeys bote prikede forþ with bost.

As þese frensche men come ryde on message fro Charloun,
Duk Naymes gan be-holde a syde & saw hem & hure penoun.
“Mercy god,” quaþ naymes þan “now buþ we betraied;
ȝonder y se come many a man y-armed & wel araid.
Hit semeþ sarasyns as be siȝte þat prikeaþ as wynd & rayn;
Willeþ we wiþ hymen mete & fiȝte oþer ȝe wollaþ turne.agayn?”
“Sir duk,” quaþ Rolond, “what eyleþ þe þer ne buþ noȝt xxxti þare;
Ne .xxti. neyþer, ful wel y se why makest þou such a fare?
Mete we with hem on cristes name & gowe to hymen afrount.
We schulleþ hastely make tame alle þilke heþene hound.”
þay prykede hure stedes with hure spores & þan þay runne away;
Ne spared rigges noþer vores til þay mette þat pray.

Wan þey come to-gadre neȝ & Moradas þe kyng hem mette;
A cryede to hymen wel an heȝ & þus he hymen grette:
“If ȝe lyueþ on þe heþene lay Mahoun ȝov saue & kepe:
& if ȝe ben cristene men of fay y diffie ȝow al þe hepe.”

“Sarsyn,” saide duk neymoun “haue þou muche maugree,
We wendeþ on message fram Charloun to þe Amyral of nubbee.
þow scholdest no messager bere a doun for al þyn heȝ degree.”
“ȝus,” quaþ he, “be Seynt Mahoun & ȝut y ȝow dissye aȝee.
Wolleþ ȝe ȝou defende ouþer ȝe wolleþ flen?”
“ȝea, so god me mende” þe duk him sayde aȝen;
“Hwych of ȝow wil wyþ me fiȝte” saide þe Sarsyn þan.
“y am,” quaþ Naymes, “al-redy i-diȝte a-ȝeyn þe for to gan.”

“Fy,” quaþ Moradas, “wat ert þow þat telest of me so lyte?
For such a doȝeyne y make auow y nolde noȝt ȝyue a myte.
Al for elde ys hor þyn her hit semeþ wel by siȝt:
Send me anoþer þat ys my peer on him to kyþe my miȝt.

A doȝty iolyf bacheler a ȝong man & a wiȝt,
þat is of body fresch & fier wiþ such on wold y fiȝt.”

þanne bad he to þe company þat wiþ him were þare,
þat non of hem ne come him ny how so it by him fare.
“For al þes cristene conquere y schal þis day me self al-one,
& hymen presenty to þe Amyral to-morwe or it be none.”

Wan Ro[land] hurd him how he spak for angre a wax neȝ wod:
A tok a spere wiþ-oute lak & rod til him wyþ mod;
“Whar to makest þow al þat bost, Saraȝyn?” Ro[land] sede
“Or þow passye out of þys cost me self schal do þy nede.
War now of me, ich þe diffie” & bar til him is spere,
And he anoþer tok an hye & scherply til him gan bere.
So harde þay acoupede on hurscheldes þat broke buþ boþe hureschafte,
& þe peces fulle on þe feldes þe hedes on þe tre by-lafte.
Now haueþ þay hure speres tynt hure swerdes out þay twyȝte,
On helmes & scheldes ful many a dynt ayþer til oþer areȝte:
So harde þey hywe on helm & scheld þat þay al to-rente,
Me miȝte y-sen in tal þe feld how þe sparkes by-fore out-wente:
þe cercles þat were on hur helmes set of perre y-mad & golde,
þey bern hem doun wiþ-oute let ne miȝt þay noȝt with-holde.
What halt hit muche her-of to telle to drecchen ous of our lay?
Ro[land] ate laste wyþ hym gan melle & taȝte him a sory play.
Roland smot hym on þe helm an heȝ & laid hit a doun with mayn,
Helm & coyfe ther wyþ a clef þorw-out heued & brayn.
His auentaile ne vailede him noȝt þat þe swerd ne clef him þanne,
Til it hadde in-to is bodi i-soȝt by-nythe is brest a spanne.

Wanne his felawes þat y-sye þat Moradas þe kyng was ded,
Loude þay cryede & skryȝte an hye “Mahoun wat is þy red?
How schulle we now ous selue gye now ous lackeþ our hed?
þus cristene houndes schulleþ sore abye auengy we hym,” þay sed.

Agayn duk Ro[land] þan com þys route wyþ hure swerdes drawe,
& heweþ til hym al aboute to hauen hem þanne a slawe.
& Ro[land] ȝerne him gan defende wyþ durendale is brond,
And sturne strokes til hymen he slente þanne wiþ boþe ys hond.
Rolond smot þe kyng Lambrok wan he was ameued,

In þe necke þat wyþ þat strok A wypede of his heued.
A-noþer strok þan a gerte to Colbrant þe kyng with mayn,
& þorw-out is helm & ys coyfe him herte & [al] for-clef is brayn.

þe foure oþre floȝen faste wan þay seȝen hem falle,
Ac þys frenschemen an haste aȝe requilled hem alle,
& wan þay hadden hymen with-inne alle þay sloȝe saf on.
On was clouen in-to þe chynne another to þe brust-bon;
þe þridde was styked with a swerd þe furthe a-scapede away,
And prykede faste to þe furd þar þat þe Amyral lay;
Til he com to Egremoyne neuere þat he ne blan:
þan wente he wiþ-oute ensoygne to speke wiþ Balan.

Wan þat þe Ameral y-saw him come þilke heþene kyng,
þan way aȝen him haþ he nome & askede what tydyng.
“Certes sire,” sayde þe kyng “suche tydynges haue y broȝt
þat willeþ lyke þe noþyng by þat þow art by-þoȝt.
ȝester day, so mote y thee as we ryde forþ ryȝtes,
Wiþ seuen glotouns mette we þat buþ of Char[lis] knyȝtes:
Al þyn Messagers þay han a-slawe saue me þat am a-scaped,
To schewe to þe þorw my sawe how þat ous is hapid.

þey vij. þe vyage han vndertake hiderward fram Char[lis] kyng,
To þe a message for to make & hiderward buþ now comyng.
Hure wyle miȝt þow now wel ȝylde beo þai hider i-come,
Al quike y rede þan let hem hylde þe glotouns alle & some.”

“Alas!” saide þe Amyral þan “now am y broȝt in care,
No lengre lyue y ne can of blisse y am al bare.
Furst y loste Fyrumbras my sone þat was me dere:
& now haue y lost kyng Moradas a knyȝt with oute pere:
And othre kynges manye & muche of my socour;
Now my folkes doþ þus wanye y-lost ys myn honour.”

Leue we her þan Amyrel liggyng in sorwe & care;
& of þis barouns y wil ȝow tel þat to hymward buþ a-fare.
Wan þe vj. kynges wern y-sleyne & þe vije. was a-go,
þan were þay alle in wittes tweyne what was best to do.
Duk Naymes þe furste was þat spak of þys entent:
“How mowe do, lordes, in this cas þat we buþ now y-sent?
If we goþ now to þe Amyrel certis we buþ y-schent.

Turne we aȝe, y rede wel & telle we how it stent.”

“Nay,” quaþ Roland to þe duyk “þan [wer] we yuele spedde;
Leuere me were to han be syk liggyng on my bedde.
If god send grace my wit to helde & my owe lif to saue,
And durendale my swerd to welde by-fore þis as y haue,
Turne aȝeynward y ne schal for no mannis speche,
Til y ha spoke wyþ þe Amyral whar ich hym euere seche:
& lokeaþ ȝe lordes do al-so to kepe ȝou out of blame:
& certis, sirs, bote ȝe do ȝe doþ ȝow selue schame.

And take we þe heuedes of þys Sarsyns & lede we with ous þader;
Euerech trossye on at his dyuys to þe arsoun of his sadel.
we willeþ hym lede forþ boldely with ous wiþ-oute affray,
& if þar is any þat spekeþ oȝt by say we it is our pray.
& wan we comeþ to þe Amerel al-so mot y waxe,
y schal him presenty fair & wel þe heuedes alle sixe.”

“Ro[land],” quaþ neymes, “why spekestou so? þou ert of heȝe parage,
Wilt þou þe selue & ous a slo þorw such a fol outtrage?”
“Be dure god,” quaþ Terry þo “it wil be riȝt god rage,
Riȝt as he wil let it be do for þat is vassalage.”

Euerech of hymen þan tok an hed as it dyuysid was,
& forþ þay riden wyþ-oute dred god help him for is gras!
Duk naymes be-fore þaym gan to fonde & afferrom lokede þo:
þan saw he Mantryble afforn him stonde & þe brigge þat lay þar-to.
“By-holdeþ now, syrs,” quaþ duk Naymoun “þe ȝondre faire Citee:
Me þynkeþ þat þat is Egrymoun þer we scholden bee.”
“Nay,” quaþ Richard of normaundye “soþely y þe sigge,
Hit ys Mantryble þat þow sye wyþ þe grete brigge.
A þes half Mantrible þe grete Citee ys þe brigge y-set,
Al of marbre y-mad ys sche wyþ a quynte iet.
Sixty pers þar buþ þar-on þat buth grete & rounde.
þe werste piece of hem ecchon cosnede a þousant pounde.
Oppon ech pere þar stent a tour enbataild wyþ queynte engynne,
Twenty knyȝtes of gret honour mowe wel beo loged ynne.
þe syd walles þat on þe brigge stondeþ buþ an hundred pas of lengþe;
Bot how dup sche ys no man ne fondeþ þe ryuer is so gret of strengþe.

þe brigge ys of fair entaylle on brede fourty fete.
An hundred knyȝtes wyþ-oute faille þer-on affrount mowe mete.
.x. cheynes þar buþ ouerthwart adrawe in stedes dyuers y-set,
As heuye as twenty men drogy mawe ys euerech wiþ-oute let,
In tyme of nede þe chaynes buþ bent & on othre tymes buþ oundo.
Wo wer him þat wyþ-inne went ȝyf he þar hadde a fo.
Oppon þe tour auundward riȝt þar stondeþ a iuwel gay,
An egle of gold þat schynaþ briȝt so doþ þe sonne on may.
þar is þe wacche y-mad aniȝt wyþ sarsyns of gret aray;
Many ys þe gode cristene kniȝt þat þar haþ be don of day.
þe fairnesse þar-of no man ne wot to telle it al on sonder.
þe dotouse ryuer me calt flagot þat raply renneþ vnder:
A geant ys maked briggeward þat symeþ þe fend to see;
Wyþ an hache an honde heuy & hard þe brigge ay kepeþ hee.
þe geant ys so wonderly wyȝt and so pereillous on ys pray,
þat þoȝ þar come an hundred kniȝt þar forþ to take þe way,
Bot if þay don as he wol riȝt wyþ-oute more delay,
Hasteliche wil he wiþ hem fiȝt & don hem out of day.
for wham he may with þe hache arede þoȝ he be i-armed wel,
He clefþ him doun to þe gurdelstede ouþer is body þorw echdel.”
Euerech til oþer þanne sede “ther by-gynneþ luther haunsel,
To don þe Message þat we buþ bede to Balan þe Amyrel.”

“Lordes,” quaþ Ro[land], “now hauy cast to speken wiþ þat hounde.
To knowe ys wil y wil him tast & drecchen him a stounde.
Til ȝe alle be wel apast & þan iwil him ȝyue a wounde
Wyþ durendal by godes fast þat he ne schel neuere be sounde.”

“Nay,” quaþ Naymys, “by myn hed so ne schalt þow noȝt;
If þou dudest as þou sed it miȝte be dure aboȝt.
Ac wan we seeþ him doþ after my red & makieþ it noþyng toȝt,
& y wille ouercome þe qued wyþ lesynges þat y ha þoȝt.”

Alle þay duden þanne assente to þat þat he gan sigge,
& forþward faste on hure way þey wente & entrede on þe brigge.
þe Briggeward was y-redy ther at entre of þe ȝeate,
Wyþ an hol hundred of sarsyns fer þat y-armed stode þar-ate.

Duk Naymes furst gan to entre þe brigge aforewarde,
Ac þe Briggeward sone him hente by þe brydel harde;

& sone he askeþ wyþ-oute ensoygne wyderward he was boun
“Sir,” saiþ naymes, “to Egremoygne þys day if me mown.”
“Was men buth ȝe,” sayde he agayn “þat comeþ in such aray?”
“We buþ,” quaþ he, “with Charlemayn þe emperour, for soþ to say.
To Egremoyne we moste on his message to þe Amyral sir Balan.
Let ous noȝt of oure vyage y praye þe, gode man.”

“ȝe mote furst,” quaþ þe Saraȝyn “syþþe ȝe þyder fondeþ,
For þe truwage make fyn þat to þis brigge longeþ.”
& N[aymes] hym answerede sone “do tel me wat is þe trow,
& ful longe or hit beo none þy pees schal wel be dow.”

þan Ansuerede þe wardeyn “hit is noȝt lyȝt to fynde,
Ac noþeles y-hure me seyn and haue it on þy mynde.
Of grete hertes refet at al y asky of ȝow an hundred,
& clene maydens faire smal al-so manye y-sondred.
An .C. of gyrfacouns y asky bo y-muwed ouer ȝere,
& an hundred of whyte stedes al-so þat neuere no sadel bere.
For ech fot of ȝour stedes þat ȝe now rydeþ on,
ȝe mote al-so her paye nedes a charbuncle ston.
Quyclych payeþ þys truwage þat ȝe han i-hurd me sigge,
And wendeþ forth on ȝour viage ouer þys iolif brigge.
& þoȝ ȝe now wolde leue hit & turne aȝe as ȝe come,
For-gon ȝou tidde þerfor ȝour heued & þer-of nemaþ gome.”

“Wel, depardieu,” nemys said “al þys y knew be-fore,
of Al þyn askynge schaltou beo ipaid siþþen it nys no more.
Oure harneys comeþ her be-hynde wiþ to hundred men araid:
With hymen schalt þou al þyng fynde þat þov hast to ous y-said;
Gyrfacouns y-muwed & white stedes & hertes of gresse y wene;
And louely ladies on hure wedes maydeyns þay buþ clene.
þey bryngeþ al-so cofres fyld of golde & precious stones;
Tak y now þer-of wat þou wylt and let ous gon at ones.”

“y grante wel,” saide he þo “suþþen þay schulleþ paye.”
þe rayne þanne let he go & let hem gon hure waye.
After him alle þan toke þe way & Ro[land] gan lawe smere,
And lawyng to Naymes gan he say þat he was a gret lyere.

As þay ouer þe brigge gunne ryde Ro[land] him lokede aboute,
A Sarasyn saw he ful of pride ouer þe brigge þat lyned oute;

A boȝ adoun on þat tyde and cauȝte hym by þe snoute,
& cast him on þe ryuer vnryde & folghede þo forþ þe route.

“Alas,” quaþ Neymys, “wat man is þys alas! why fareþ he so?
Hys heȝe herte & his hardynys schel brynge ous alle in wo.
y had leuere þan myn hors y-wys were we fayre ago,
Or we wern a-spyed of þys god kepe ous fram oure fo!”

þay wern þanne ful sore agaste þe Citee to wende þorwgh,
Noþeles þanne þai prikede faste til þay wer passed þe borwgh.
til þey wer comen to Agremoun neuere þey ne astynte.
& bi-fore þe castel þay liȝte adoun & at þe ȝeate in þay wente.

Wyþ a sarsyn þan þai mette þus barouns gode & lel,
And askede of him wiþ-oute lette war was hure Amyrel.
þe sarsyn hym answerede þer þat faste þar-by was he,
Sittynge on a grene erber & talkede wyþ kynges three.

“Lorlynges,” saide naymes þanne “delyuerieþ me þe wryt,
þat Char[les] sente to sir Balanne for y wol presente hit.
y wolde fayne be þe furste to tellen him oure message,
Leste þe Amyral don ous burste for any of oure outrage.”

“Let of, sir duk,” Sir Ro[land] sede “whar-to spekest þow so?
þyn herte ys naȝt to such a dede me self y wil hit do.
y schal be þe furste of alle þat our message schal a-bede,
Wat so euere þar-of falle y ne leuet for no drede
þe lettre þat ys til hym wryte takeþ him me, y praye,
& þe heuedes þat we of smyte ȝusterday by þe waye;
& als ȝe alle schul sen it wel boldelich wil y gon,
& y wil hymen to Amyrel presenty vp anon:
y schal it don apertely be god þat me haþ boȝt:
For drede of him ne his maygny nel ich spare noȝt.”
Al was til hym þo by-take be hure commun assent,
& þat present to Amyral make in-to þe erber þan þay went.

þe A[myral] þan þay founde þer conselyngge with kynges þre,
And wyþ hymen a gret power saraȝyns of hure meyne,
Ac noþeles þey of fraunce affore þe Amerel ȝude
And Ro[land] wiþ sterne continance ys message þus gan bude:

God þat ys our Sauyor þat al þyng knowþ & seeþ,
Saue Char[les] þe Emperour & al þat wiþ him beeþ!

& þe Amyral þat sittest ther þe deuel þe for-drawe,
And alle þat buþ wiþ þe her & lyueþ on þe false lawe:
For þov mayntenest þef reyuours her neȝ to þyn honde,
To gon aboute & robby ous þat walkaþ on þy londe.

As we ȝusterday at pryme hiderward comen euene,
on þe gate we mette of þyne stronge þeues seuene.
þay þoȝte ous þar haue be-reyued of our hors & of our gere,
Ac þay were foule deceyued hure heuedes þay lefte there;
& if þou ne miȝt me þar-of ilyue be-hold her war þay beeþ.”
a caste þe heuedes by-for him blyue þat he & hyse hit seeþ.

“Herkne ȝut more,” said he þan “þe cause of oure comyng.
We buþ y-sent to þe, Balan be Charlis, þe Comly kyng.
By ous sente he þe to sayn to warnye þe by-forn,
þe nayles þow scholdest him ȝelde aȝeyn & eke þe croune of þorn,
& þe oþre relyqes þat buþ fre þat þou hast away y-born
Out of Rome ys owe Citee & elles þow gest a torn.

þov scholdest hym ȝelde aȝe also ys barouns þou hast y-take,
And out of þy prisoun let hem go & for hymen amendes make.
& certis he sayþ bote þow do after þat is lettre spake,
He wol þe chacy as ys fo & werche þe sorwe & wrake.
Whar ere þou be founde in londe of hym þou miȝt be adrad,
for þe tyȝd be-take wyþ honde & to parys þou worst y-lad,
And thar þanne þe tyȝd be an honge ys auow he haueþ y-mad.
So schel he quyte þe þy wronge & þer-of wil y be glad.”

þe Amyral wax þan wod & wroþ wan he haþ herd him speke;
& he Mahoun he swor ys oþ þat he wolde ben awreke,
Of þilke þat slowe kyng Moradas & ys oþre kynges fyue:
& namlich of him þat so hardy was to fore him so to stryue,
& presenty til him with such outrage þay heuedes bi-fore him selue,
& so vylenly beode ys message & schamy hem in euery helue.
He het Roland þan stonde a-side ther him self al-one,
Til he hauede y-herde þat tyde þe speche of euerechone.
& be Mohoun þan swer þe schrewe þat he nolde ete no bred,

Til he were al to-hewe for þe message þat he abed.
“ȝif þow dost so longe faste” Rolond to him sede,
“þyn herte þanne wil ouercaste & ake wil þyn hede.”

Duk neymys com forth þan & by-fore Balan ȝude,
And in þe fairest manere þat he can þe Message he gan abude;
“Now list to me, sire Amerant & tak it to non outrage,
War-for we buþ to þe y-sent þoȝ y telle my message.
Charlys kyng & Emperour sente þe to sayne,
þat þou scholdet wyþ honour ȝelde vp til him aȝeyne
þe ryche relyqes þat þov toke in Rome ys owe Cytee:
& al-so þow scholdest loke þat is barons were sent aȝe,
þat þow hast to þy prisoun take & liggeþ among hure fone:
& his amendes þou scholdest make of þe harmes þou hast him done:
Outher such word he þe sent þat he nel neuere a-stynte,
Orhe þehabbe wyþ strengþe y-hent ontherslawe þe with swerdes dynte.”
“Wel,” said he, “y knowe ys wille fairer þou abust þy tale.
Let anoþer ys message telle & stond þou þer by þy fale.”

þan com forþ hym bi-fore Rychard of Normaundye;
A strong knyȝt & a wel icore was he wiþ-oute lye:
“Herkne,” said he, “sire Balan Ameral of nubbye:
& y wil her as y can my message to þe ounwrye.

Charlys þe noble kyng of fraunce sendeþ to þe tydynge,
þou scholdest leue þy false creaunce & belyue on heuene kynge:
þou also ȝelde him þe croune of thorn & ys othre relyqes dere,
þat þou dudest a-way be born in Rome thar thay were;
And eke ys barouns þat buþ y-take þow scholdest hem ȝelde aȝeyn;
And suþþe to him amendes make for hymen þat buþ y-sleyn.
Outher certis for þy wronge he doþ þe now to seyn,
þow worst ful heȝe an honge wyþ-inne þes moneþys tweyn.”
“ȝea haue þow yuele grace” þe Amyral sayde an hye,
“þou semest me by thy face Rychard of Normaundye.
He þat slow myn owen Eem þe kyng of Mandralye;
Were þou he by þys leem sone þow scholdest dye.
Now haue y herd three of ȝow þat wolde i were in bale.
Go thow to þy felawes now & þe furthe let telle ys tale.”

þan com forþ a doþþepeer duk Basyn of Genueys,

& to þe Amyral he wente ner & til hym þus he seys:
“Wost wat word he þe sente Charlis kyng by ous.
As þou ne wilt be y-schente to ȝelde him his barons,
And þe scherpe croune of thorn & þe nayles three,
War wiþ cristes flesche was torn on þe rode tree;
& if þou tarie longe her-wyþ þou worst y-schent
Heȝe þow worst an honge such word he þe sent.”
“ȝea, trupt” quaþ þe Amyrale “y set noȝt by þy sawes.
let come þe fyfþe & telle ys tale & go þou to þy felawes.”

þe duk of Ardane, sire Terry sterte forþ on is fet:
Wyþ a sturne look & hardy is herte was ful gret:
Ys berd was long, & al whyt hor a was [a] grymly freke.
His brest he bend vp as a bor & to Amyral gan he speke:
“Now list to me, þow Saraȝyn þat makest so gret bobaunce,
What word þe sende Charlemyn þe noble kyng of fraunce.
Charlis þe kyng of fraunce þe sende þis tydynge,
To leue þy false creaunce & belyue on heuene kynge;
& ȝelde him þou scholdest þe croune of þorn & þe nayles three,
Hwych þou & þyne away han born of Rome is owe Citee;
& ek ys barouns þat þou hast y-take þou scholdest hem sende a-gayn,
& ys amendes fayre make for þilke þow hast a-slayn:
And ellis for þy wronge or come þus monþes twayn,
Wel heȝe þou werst an honge he sendeþ þe þus to sayn.”

þe Amyral herknede hym ful wel how he tolde ys tale:
A-fryȝt he wax of hym sum del so grym a was in gale:
“þow semest bet,” quaþ Amerel “a deuel gonde in dale,
þan a man of flesche & fel so grym þou art a fale.
Ac noþeles woldy of þe fayn wyte wyþ-oute strif,
Wat maner man ys Charlemayn & how he let his lif.”
Terry him ansuerede þan at schorte wordes & rounde:
“Charlis ys a noble man nys nowar is per y-founde:
He loueþ god almiȝty wel & eke al holicherche.
þat day come neuere ne schel þat [he] ne wil almys werche.
Gode knyȝtes wil he haue goynge with hym aboute.
Were a her so god me saue þan wer þou broȝt in doute;
With ys hond a wolde þe ȝyue a such on on þe luste

þat al þy breyn scholde clyue al aboute ys fuste.”

Wan þe Amerel herd him sigge so in ys herte wax he wroþ:
“þou ferly freke,” saide he þo “of o þyng say me soþ:
And y wer now on þy mastrye as þou art her in myne,
Tel me be waye of companye how wostou þan do by me.”
“By þe cristendom þat y fong” quaþ Terry þanne sone,
“þou scholdest be ful heȝe an-honge þis day ȝut or none.”
“So schalt þow beo þe self” saide þe Amyrel þanne:
“Go stand ther in þat other helf & let come þe sixte manne.”

þan com forþ a doþþepeer Erld Ogier þe Deneys,
& to þe Amyral he neȝeþ neer & til him þan he seys:
“Charlemayn, kyng of fraunce sente þe word be ous,
þow scholdest, wiþ-oute more distaunce ȝelde him his barouns,
& þe scherpe croune of þorn & þe oþere reliqes dere,
þat þow & þyne away han born of Rome ther þay were
& cristendom þou scholdest fonge & leue þy foule entent;
& amendie hem of þy wronge of al þyng þou hym hast offent.
& if þou tariest oȝt to longe þan certis ert þow schent,
He þe wil don heȝe an-honge & such word he þe sent.”
“y haue y-hurd .vj. of my fon” saide þe Amyrelle,
“Do let come þe .vij. anon and is tale let hym telle.”

Wyth þat com sterte þe gode Gy þat duk was of Borgoygne,
þat bore was in normaundy y-norschid in Sessoyngne.
He comeþ by-fore þe Amyrel & ys message abed him þere,
Riȝt as y ȝow now telle schel ȝif ȝe me wolleþ here:
“Charlis, þat is of fraunce kyng & of Rome Emperour,
Hoteþ þe þorw alle þyng to leuen þyn errour;
& hoteþ þe þat þou for-sake þy false god Mahone,
& to cristendom þat þov take and belyue on godes sone.
Such word al-so he sendeþ þe Charles þe Emperour,
þat þou him scholdest sende aȝe ys knyȝtes of honour;
And ȝelde aȝe þe croune of thorn and the naylles three,
War-wiþ cristis flech was torn on þe rode tree;
& þe other relyqes ryche wyche þov him hast y-raft;
Oþer ellis certis he wil þe syche whar þou euere be laft;

& take þe as a proued þef an do þe wel heȝe an-honge.
& þer-for if þy lif is lef ne tarie þou noȝt to longe:
Y wil þe techen how þow may abaty al þys strif;
& loke þou do as y þe say if þou wilt haue þy lyf.
Al þy cloþes þou schalt of don with wyche þou art y-shrid,
& eke þyn hosyn & þyn schon let don of þer myd;
Lef þou sengle on þy scherte & bar-fot þou most go,
Al open-her, & eke oungerte and be-for Char[les] com þow so,
Wyþ a rop aboute þy nekke to Char[les] so wend an hye,
& loke þat þou þan mukly speke & to hym mercy crye.
& þus schalt þou gete þy pees & esye al þy lond:
& elles ne wol he neuere cees til þow beo broȝt to schond.”

þe Amyral gan waxe wonder wroþ wan he herd him speken:
By Mahoun þanne swer he ys oþ þat sone a wolde be wreken
Of hymen þat hadde ys kynges slayn & dryuen him so to schonde.
He swor he scholde neuere beo fayn til þey were alle an-honge.

þe ȝeates were þanne sone y-schet & þe draȝt-brige vp y-drawe;
Sone he þoȝte wiþ-oute let þus barouns lete don of dawe:
þe Amyral bende ys browes rowe & clepede is consaile:
Kyng Sortybrant & oþre ynowe ther come wyþ-oute fayle.
“Barouns,” sayd he, “þanne sone telleþ me ȝour purpos:
What is þe beste wyþ hem to done þat buþ now her enclos,
þat habbeþ þus my kynges slone & foule oundo my los?
Whar-for to ȝow y make my mone eniugieþ ȝe my foos.”

Sortybrant spak þat word for alle wan þat þay were assent:
“Sleeþ hem wat so þer-of by-falle þat is our iuggyment.
Hastely doþ þey be to-hewe & sleeþ hem wyþ such turment;
& so þow schalt hemen alle schewe þat þay buþ al mys-went.
& þar-after schalt þow wende to Morymond wiþ þyn host,
And take þe kyng þat is ounhende Charlys for al þis bost;
& discoumfitye þar his ferde þat wiþ hym dar abyde.
þan do an-honge him wyþ þe berde Char[lys] for al ys pride.
& þus þow schalt a-wreke þe of alle þyn enymys.”
“By Mahoun,” þanne sayde he “þys ys a god deuys.
To my Gayhol goþ anon & þe fyue þat buþ ther
Bryngeþ hem out euerechon to hure falawes her.

þys day ne wol y on myn halle drynke whit wyn ne red,
Til y [haue] seen þe glotouns alle on schentfule deþe be ded.”

Florippe, his doȝtre þe cortoyse in chambre þar sche was,
In the paleys y-hurde noise & þyder sone she gas;
And er sche cam strauȝt in-to halle neuere heo ne stente,
& forþ sche þraste among hem alle & to hur fader ryȝt heo wente.
By þe hond she tok him euene & drow hym by þe oþre helue,
& askede of him what were þay seuene þat stode þar by hem-selue.

“Doȝtre dure,” þan saide he “as Mahoun me auaunce,
Hit beþ kniȝtes y-sent to me fram charlis kyng of fraunce;
Myne kynges þay han a-slawe hyderward as þay come,
& avoweded wel wiþ hure sawe & presented þe hedes to me.
And ȝut were þay noȝt apaid þer-by bote wolde me greue more,
Hure message þay abode dispitously & schamede me ful sore,
Now, dure doȝtere, myn Al-one wat ys þy gode red
Wyþ myn enymys for to done þat habbeþ ido þis qued?”

þan him ansuerede þat faire mayde sleȝ sche was & sad:
“So þat ȝe þer-of be a-paide my red schel sone be rad;
Doþ þat hy be faste y-bounde sonderliche euerechon,
& suþþen y-cast to þe grounde euerech by hym on;
& þanne wyþ swerdes sherp y-grounde let hewen hem flesch & bon,
þat no lym be laft y-sounde & chaste ȝe so ȝour fon.”

“By Mahoun, doȝtre,” saide he “parforny y wol þy red,
Ne schal no mete synke on me or þat þaye beo ded.
& ek hure felawes for wham þay come of pryson y wil do fecche,
& þay schulleþ haue þe selue dome nel y no lenger drecche.”

“Fader,” quaþ sche, “let beo þyn haste it is wel neȝ þe non,
Hit were ful longe ȝow to vaste or þis were al y-don.
Takeþ hem to me al þe hepe and goþ ȝe to ȝour mete,
And sykerliche y wil hem kepe þe wyle þat ȝe doþ ete.
After [þe] mete fol wel moȝe ȝe al þys þyng ful-fille.
Now, fader, as ȝe louyeþ me doþ ȝe as y telle.”

“Doȝtre,” saide þe Amyrel “þy counseil ys god & hende;
So tak hem to þe & kep hem wel til y to þe sende.”
þan him spak kyng Sortybran wordes wel ounkende:
“þow ert a-sotid, as y am man þy doȝtre wil þe schende.

By-þenk þe wel of þat brayde þat touchide duke Myloun;
How ys doȝtre hym betrayde þat hyȝte Saramoun,
Wan sche tok out Godefrayde þat was in his prysoun.
þe Duk þanne þay yuele arayde to deþe þay duste him doun,
& she hym wedede after þan þat was hure fader fo.
Many ys þe manlich man þat þorw womman ys by-go.”

Wanne þat mayde y-hurde þys for wraþþe she was neȝ wod,
For angre sche wax al pal y-wys & spak til him with mod;
“Say, þow gadelyng horesone lecher, & stronge þef!
To speke yuele euere ys þy wone Mahoun ȝyue þe euele þref!
Wy woldest þow letten wiþ þy speche þat ys my fader lef?
If y may lyue y wol þe teche a torn þat schal þe gref.”

“Doȝtre,” quaþ Balan, “y þe pray now let al þat be stille,
& tak þys prysouns & go þy way for haue þou schalt þi wille.”
“As ȝe willeþ,” sche gan say þe barons sche wendeþ tille:
“Now comeþ wyþ me,” quaþ þat may “ȝut haue ȝe her non ille.”

Wyþ hure þan way forþ þay nome þorȝ-out halle & bour,
Til þay in-to hure chambre come þat y-buld was on a tour.
Wan þay weren alle yn y-paste þe mayde & þay yfere,
Florippe het schitte þe dore [faste] & welcomedem with gode chere.

Roland y-saw erld Olyuer & ys herte wax glad anon,
Wel sone þo he neȝed him ner & to hym gan he gon.
Ro[land] kuste him louelich ther & þonked god al-on,
þat he haþ founde him hol & fer thar among his fon.
Olyuer þanne gan a-spye what is fader doþ;
& Roland sayde; “sykerlye for þe he ys ful wroþ.
þer nis no murgȝþe þat may him gayne y say þe verament,
Til he may hure word certayne by þe al how it stent.”

Wan þay were ther alle y-same þes doȝopers xij. of fraunce,
Florippe þat maide hadde ioie & game to sen hure contynaunce.
To hem com þan þat iantail may & corteisly spekeþ hem tille:
‘Lysteþ now, Lordes, wat y schal say & perfornyeþ ȝe my wille.
ȝif ȝe þynkeþ to askape away þat my fader ȝow ne spille,
To me ȝe mote sykery ȝour fay my purpos to fulfille:
& þat is to do me haue a þyng þat al myn herte ys on.”
“We wolleþ,” quaþ Naymes, “be heuene kyng so þat we mowe it don;

So þat þou ous sykerye affore to help ous in this clos,
þat non of ous ne beo for-lore her among our fos.”
þar-to sche sykerede þanne hure fay to help hem be hure miȝte,
In alle wyse þat sche may to daye for þar riȝte.

& þanne tok sche þat swete wyȝt duke naymes by þe honde:
“Tel me,” sche saide, “þy name ariȝt as þow art freo to fonde.”
þe duk aunswerede þat mayde free humelich & fayre:
“Damesel, certis me clepeþ me duke neymys of Bauayre.
Char[lis] consailer am y pryue y-sent on his message.”
“By Mahoun, sire,” saide sche “þou madest an hard vyage.”

þanne to Richard of Normandy wente þat burde briȝt,
& prayedem faire & corteysly to tel hure what he hiȝt.
“Certis y wol ȝow telle my name” sayde he, “with-oute lye,
In fraunce men calleþ me, ma dame Richard of Normaundye.”
“ȝe Mahoun,” quaþ sche, “ȝyue þe schame for þyn oncortesye!
Myn vncle þow slowe a kniȝt of fame Corsible of Mantrie.
Ac suþþe þou art now on þis clos among þes fair ferede,
y wol þe kepe fro þy fos haue þov none drede.”

To Rolond þanne tornde þat mayde þat was so gret of fame:
“Ia[n]tail kniȝt,” til him sche sayde “tel þov me þy name.”
“Ful fayne,” sayde þe noble knyȝt “wil ich, swete dame.
Ro[land] my name is callid riȝt wan y am at hame;
And Char[les] suster sone y am y-comen of heȝ parage;
And to þy fader fro him y cam to bryngen him message.”
þan hur spak þe damesel “myn herte now waxeþ liȝt,
þat þyng now hope y gete wel on wham myn herte ys piȝt.”
Wel corteysly þanne aboȝede she & to help hure gan him praye.
“Tel me þy wil,” þan sayde he “& y wol do what y maye.”

þan hure spak þat burde briȝt “herknyaþ my chesoun:
In Charlis companye ys a knyȝt as fers as any lyoun;
Gwy of Borgoygne ys name ys riȝt y-called in euery toun;
On hym for-soþe my loue ys liȝt for he ys god baroun.
Wan þat my fader sire Balan be-segede Rome Citee,
þar saw y þat doȝty man to done a dede free:
Lucafer þe kyng of Bandas a strong kyng of renoun,

In a stede y-armed was & rod to þat baroun.
Lucafer egrelich wyþ a spere mette hym in þe feld,
& Gy þe strokes awey gan bere manliche with ys scheld.
Gyoun þanne adrow is brond & ȝif him a strok with mayn,
þat hors and man a-doun it wond & leye þer on þe playn.
Riȝt fro þat day in-to þis myn herte haþ he y-raft.
y-now y hadde of ioie & blys were his to me-ward laft;
Wolde he be my worldly make & wedde me to wyue,
For his loue wold y take cristendom þanne blyue.
As þow art a trewe knyȝt & for doȝty baroun y-knowe,
Help me to haue þat worldly wyȝt & y wil ben is owe.”

Rolond aunswerede hure & low “dame, by god of heuene,
y knowe Gyoun wel ynow he ys my cosyn euene;
Fuliche ne is he noȝt now fram þe vj fet y-mete in brede.”
“For þy cortesye þan ȝif hym me” F[lorippe] to hym sede.
“Dame, þy wille schal be don as y am trewe kniȝt.
Com now forþ, sir Gyon & tak þys burde briȝt!”
þan Ansuerede þat baroun þat wyuy nolde he noȝt,
With-oute assent of kyng Charloun þat had him vp i-broȝt.

Wan þat maide hym vnderstod on herte she wax ful wroþ:
For angre sche braid hure wel neȝ wod & by Ma[houn] swor hur oþ,
þat bote if Gy to wyue hure take þat sche had loued so longe,
Ecchone þay scholde for is sake or euene beo an-honge.

þan hym spak duk Roland to Gy ys cosyn free,
“Tak thys damesele by þe hand as þow louest me.”
“As þow wolt y wol done” saide þe kynde kniȝt.
By þe hond þanne he tok hur sone & be-treuþede þat swete wiȝt.
þan wern þay glad boþe ȝonge & olde & comforted wel apliȝt:
& Flo[rippe] hure handes gan vp holde & þankede god almiȝt:
“Lord,” sche saide, “y þanky þe þat al þyng sest & wost,
now þou hast y-sent to me þat þyng i louede most.
& now wil y for þe loue of hym my false fay for-sake,
& eke my fader and al my kyn and cristendom to me take.”
Loueliche þay wente to-gadre þo & cussede i-same an haste,

To fermye loue by-twene hem two & to makye hem stedeuaste.
Wan þat F[lorippe] þat swete þyng so y-comforted was
A dore sche openeþ & let hem in in-to a pryue plas.
War sche tok out of a shryn araid of riche golde,
þe relyqes preciouse & fyn þat y ȝow ere-of tolde.
Furst sche tok out þe croune sterk þat crist on is heued let;
& suþþe þe nailles þat wer scherp þat percede him honde & fet;
þan after sche tok a cloþ of gold þat was þer-for arayde
& oppon þat cloþ ase heo wold þes reliqes fayre layde.
“Be-holdeþ, lordes,” sayde sche þan “& buþ now murie & glad;
þis ys þat tresour whar-for ȝe han trauayl & tene i-had;
Which þat my fader let bere away of Rome as ȝe knowe,
& haueþ y-kept hit in-to þis day euere as for ys owe.
Fyrum[bras] þat my broþer ys to me þys þyng be-toke,
& be-fore al þyng bad me kepe þys & faste hit her by-loke.
& now ȝe haueþ þar-of a siȝt & whar hit is y-knowe.
Wyþ ȝow ȝe take hit be day or nyȝt & holdeþ hit as ȝour owe.

þis barouns þanne hir þankede alle wan þay y-knewe hir wille;
& Adoun þay gunne falle knelyng on þe erthe stille.
þay worschepede hem þanne with al hure miȝt & kussedem euerechone;
& þan wente sheo þe burde briȝt & tok hem vp anone,
& laide hem in-to þe schryn aȝeyn & dude hure þar sche was.
þan were þys lordes glad & feyn & þankede godes gras,
þat þay hadden founde þore þe relyqes ryche and fayre,
For whicche þay hadde þar byfore ben in gret dispayre.

Now leue wil y þis matere of þys Barouns stille,
And turne aȝeyn þar y lafte ere & of þe A[myral] y wil telle.
þus wyle was he on halle sittyng with is puple atte mete,
þan com þer an heþene kyng rydynge atte ȝete;
A wykkeder man þan he was on nas non on al hure lawe:
Many was þe cristene mon þat he had broȝt of dawe.
Kyng Lucafer of Bandas cleped was he of alle.
he liȝt him doun, & forþ a gas spedylich in-to halle,
& byfore þe Amyral þanne he goþ & by-gan him fort-affrayne:

“Sir,” saide he, “ys þis soþ on contre þat men sayne?
y hurde telle a wonder cas suþþen þat y slep uake,
þat þy son Fyrumbras conquerid was & take.
þe beste knyȝt of is hond oueral he was y-holde
þat was knowed in any lond for to do dedes bolde.”

“ȝea, for-soþe,” quaþ þe Amyrel “& þat ys al my tene:
Taken ys he, y wot it wel and y-lost for euere y wene,
þys ȝonder day at morymond conquered for soþ was hee,
With a þef, a cristene hond þar many men dide hit see.
Hys conquerour ys a bold baron & on of Charlys route,
Ac now lyþ he in my prisoun riȝt & oþre mo wel proute.
And now buþ come oþre al-so vij bolde bachelers,
þat han me muche schame ido & y-slawe my messagers,
Fram kyng Charlis as þay were sent to meward on message.
Ac alle þay schullen sone be schent for hure foul outrage;
neuere ne wil y ete more or þey be dede ecchone.
þe oþre al-so þat come bifore þe same way schulleþ gone.”

“Whar buþ þe messagers, y wolde hem sen” sayde þe heþen kyng.
“In my doȝtere bour þar þay ben sche haueþ hem in kepyng.”
“By Mahoun,” saide Lukafer “þat ys wel gret folye;
For wommanes wyt goþ her & þer in hymen ys noȝtt affye.
By þy leue y wol go ner of hymen y wolde aspye,
Of Charlis purpos wat hit wer þat makeþ so gret maistrye.”

“Go forth,” saide þe Amyrel “& gret wel my doȝtre dere,
& bid hure þat sche wardye wel þe messagers þat buþ þere.”
Lucafeer turnd him & faste gas & spedde him til þe tour,
þar as Flo[rippe] chambre was ibuld wiþ gret honour
He put him-seluen on a cas whar-for agat a schour,
þat turnd him þar after to harde gras to schennes & dolour.

Kyng Lukafer of wham y spake was a wykked man;
To þe chambre so harde he rake þat þyderward he ran;
Ac wan he com þe dore to ys herte was so gret,
þat he dedeynede to clepe, “oundo” bot ran to wiþ is fet:
So harde he bot here in þat haste þe kyng þat was so strong,
þat þe henges boþe barste & þe stapel þar-with out sprong.
& þoȝ þe dore were strong & huge wiþ þe strok sche fleȝ

Out of þe Hokes & fram hir sege x. vet y-mete wel neȝ.

Wan Flo[rippe] y-saw þe dore vn-do al chaungede hure hew & mod:
To Rolond sche spak & playned him to þar-of how it stod;
“þis is he þat fader myn ordeyneþ my lord to be;
In al heþenis ys no Sarsyn wikkeder þan is he;
Wiþ is hond oppon o day at rome in ȝoure Citee,
he slow þer þat it y say hundredes mo þan þree.
nad my spouse þat her is þar i-born him doun
Lyues nolde he haue ilaft y-wys no criste man in þe toun.
& now haþ he my dore y-broke ous alle in dispyte;
y pray ȝow þar-fore al þus y spoke ys trauail þat ȝe quyte.”

Ro[land] answerde þat mayde anon & bad sche scholde be stille,
“For þat torn or þat a gon ful sore him schal a-grille,
neuere ne brak he dore non þat dude him so mykel ille.”
With þat com he among is fon with a ful wikked wille.

þar fond he þes lordes alle in armure araid ariȝt;
& F[lorippe] with þe middel smalle þat þan was sore affriȝt,
Duk naymes stod next hur by & had hure by þe honde.
þe kyng þar-of hadde envy & comeþ by hymen stonde;
& þoȝ duk naymes were al hore he was ful wel ymaked,
ys helm was don of by-fore & ys heued was þo al naked;
ys berd was huge & straȝte along & Lukefer þo gan taket,
And wyþ his fyngres þat were strong harde gan he schaket.
By þe berde as he hym held a askeþ wiþ-oute drede:
“Wannes ert þow, olde cherld & what makest þou in þis þede?”

“Y am of Bauere,” þan saide he “& haue þar herytage;
And am Char[lis] consayller pryuee y-sent hider in message.
& alle þus oþre þat ȝe her see buþ lordes of heȝ parage;
Dukes, & erldis, & barons in fee & holdeþ by baronage.
A message ous sente Charlis kyng to þamyral þat is so bolde,
& for we told it noȝt at is lekyng he pot ous her in holde.
Let of my berd, y pray þe now suþþe y haue þe tolde.”
“y nelle,” quaþ he, “y make auow to Ma[houn] þat stont in golde.
Tel me furst by þy lay wat doþ ȝour men of fraunce;
Of hure disport & ek hure play what is ȝour mest vsaunce?”

“þe manere of hem,” þan sayde he “is erly gon to cherche,
& after-ward ech man on his degree after his stat þay werche.
þo þat lordes buþ of þe lond in som tyme of the ȝere,
þay takeþ hure facouns faire an hond & fareþ to ryuere;
& Summe a deer honteþ of hem þar went & some to fox and hare;
& to ioustes and tornyment wel mo þer wendeþ ofte þare.
þo þat willieþ to leue at hame pleyeþ to þe eschekkere,
& summe of hem to iew-de-dame & summe to tablere:
Summe þay vseþ a maner of play to caste wel a spere;
And somme for to sckyrme asay with swerd & bokelere.
þys buþ þe games of my contre þat y þe telle here.”
“ȝea alle þese buþ noȝt worþ a stre” þan saide Lucafere.

“We haue a game in this contray to blowen atte glede.
þov schalt lerny þat ilke play as Ma[houn] me helpe & spede.”
þan was þer on a chymenay a gret fyr þat brente rede,
þan duk drow he be þe berde gray & to þe fyr a doþ him lede.

þan lawede Ro[land] on Olyuer & to hym gan to saye:
“þow schalt sen god game her suffrie we hem to playe.”
Lucafer þanne tok op an-haste þe brennyngest bronde a couþe,
& to neymes-werd blew he so faste þat þe fir ful on is mouþe.
“now tak þou þe brond,” saide he þan “& blowe to me þou fonde.”
“y wil,” quaþ naymes, “as y can” & tok hym of his honde,
Naymes þanne with-oute ȝede & hadde þe kyng wiþ-inne,
& to þe schrewe he huld þe glede & blew toward is chynne:
So harde leid he þer-on is onde þat sone þe lye out rende,
& in-to ys berd sone it sprong & o syde þer-of hit brende.

Lucafer þanne wax neȝ wod & drow out a schort fachoun,
& smot to neymys þar a stod & þoȝte haue born hym doun;
Neymes was war & sterte a-syde & let þe strok to pace,
& with his hand ȝyf him a strok ounride wiþ-inne þe neckes space;
Such on a gurt him with is fuste þat sondrede al þe liþ,
& ys necke þar-wiþ a-two to-duste & ys eȝene floȝe out þar-wyþ.
þat bodi ful doun amidde þe fyre with-oute any more delay:
“now rest,” quaþ Naymes, “þou proute syre þou playest a sory play.”

þan him lawede duk Rolond & to naymes saide an haste:
“ȝea faire hure falle þat ilke hond þat so can foles chaste;

He wende wiþ is ferete haue do þe vylonye,
And now is fallen is nycyte in-to ys owen eye.”

“Syre,” quaþ Flo[rippe] “he louaþ þat fyr let hym enchaufye ynne,
ȝute naþ he no desyr to aryse and go þenne.
For he hopede haf wedded me of him he hadde enuye,
þer-for in his iolyte he cam to make maystrye.”
To Duk naymes saide heo þan “leue sir, faire þe falle,
þow hast delyuerid me of þe man ich hatede most of alle.”

[Now buþ þay delyuered of Lucafer hur enymy þat was a schrewe.
Byfore þes barouns þan Flo[rippe] ther hure purpos gan thus schewe.]
“Ac lusteþ now alle. what y schal say & warny ȝow for ȝour prow:
ȝe buþ her in yuele aray and in gret peril now.
þe Amyrel my fader as he can arayeþ him for þe nones,
To destruye ȝow sone euerech man & for-hewe ȝow flech & bones.
þys dom to day y demed was longe by-fore þe none.
now helpeþ ȝow silue on þes cas or ellis ȝe buþ for-done.
ȝour helmes makieþ alle faste hastilich on ȝour heued,
& ȝour scheldes on ȝow ȝe caste for noþyng ȝe ne leuet:
Wan þay seþ ȝow armed wel þe more þey wil ȝow drede.
Goþ out of þis chambre snel & doþ now as y rede;
Secheþ þis paleys ouer al boþe in lengþe & brede,
& lokieþ ȝe ne spare gret ne smal þat he ne go to dede,”

þat counseil þoȝte hem alle god & þanked hur lasse & more.
Hure helmes þay duden oppon hure hod þey alle þat þer wore
[Wherfor þay duden oppoun hure hod hure helmes lasse & more;]
Hure scheldes on hem fast þai caste euerech of þes barouns,
& of þe chambre out þay paste as hardy as any lyouns.
Hure swerdes þan þay a-drowe þat wern scharp y-grounde,
& alle þe Sarsyns þay a-slowe þat þay afforn him founde.
þan wente þay in-to þe heȝe halle þar þat þe lordes sete,
& þoȝte þar to slen him alle sittyng atte mete.
Roland cryede an heȝ “mountioye” wan he be-huld þay scoute:

Many sarsynȝ þan huld hem coye þat raþer wer fers & proute.
Ac þis barouns laid hem on wiþ swerdes al aboute,
And to-hewe hem boþe þarȝ flechs & bon þe moste dol of þe route.

Ro[land] ȝaf a strok with mayn to Corsyband þe kyng,
& clef ys body euene a-twayn with þat stronge spryng.
Olyuer smot kyng Coudryn & gert him in-to þe brayn.
Many was þe proute Sarsyn þat þar was þanne a-slayn.
for Al so furde þis xij. barons by þat foule hepe,
Also wolde so many lyouns among so many schepe.
þe mete þat was ful richly raied in disches of golde fyn,
Wel sone it was a-doun i-leid & schad was al þe wyn.
þe coupes of gold were treden a-syde al with mannis fet,
And alle þe sarsyns þat wolde abyde þar þai lore þat swet.
þe Sarasynȝ þat þo wer laft on lyue faste þay gunne fle,
& ful out at þe wyndowes blyue be twye & ek be three,
& summe fulle out ouer þe wal in-to þe dupe dongoun,
& breke hure nekkes to pieces smal so heȝe þay fulle adoun.
Wel an hundred out þar þraste þanne in þilke wyse,
þat wiþ þe fallyng þai to-braste & neuere ne miȝte aryse.

þe day hym was ful neȝ agan & come was neȝ þe niȝt,
þan dude þe Amyral Balaan turne him to þe fliȝt;
Roland him folghede as wilde & wod with is swerd a-drawe,
þat þo al baþid was on blod of Sarsyns he haþ slawe.

And heȝ dude hym þanne ascrye & sayde: “now kep þyn hed,
Torn to me, ich þe diffye her riȝt þou schalt be ded.”
þe Amerel vm-til a wyndow ran & þar lep out þat syre.
Wel xxti feþme ful he þan of dupnisse. vmtil A myre.
Duk Ro[land] after hym slent with his swerd to slen him þanne,
Ac on a marbre ful þe dent & smot þer-on a spanne.
Bote wan þe A[myral] was scapid him so þat Ro[land] hym ne lauȝte,
Angry wax he þer-for þo & þe deuele þan hym betauȝte.

“Felawe,” saide sir Olyuer “ys he ous now a-scapid?”
“ȝe, for-soþ,” saide he ther “ac oþer-weys y hadde y-schape hit,
Miȝte ich him ones habbe araȝt with my swerd y-grounde;
ys heued schold ich him habbe y-raft ouþer ȝeue him deþes wounde.”

Now habbeþ þes frensche lordes stoute conquered þe stronge tour,
And habbeþ a-slawe & dryuen oute þe Sarsynȝ with vygour.
þay schutte þe gates & vp þay drowe þe draȝtbrig al with gynne:
Wolde god þat þay had y-nowe of vytailes þer wiþ-inne;
For in þe contre þer with-oute vitales geteþ þay none
Bot if þai moȝe be so stoute to geten hem of hure fone.

þe Amyral þat was so riche ys falle doun fram an heȝ,
And walwede þanne on þe dyche & was y-sowe wel neȝ.
Ase loude so he þanne miȝte to ys men criede he there:
“Helpeþ me, myne men so wiȝte & elles y daye here;
Bote if ȝe me helpe vp to drawe þe raþere out of þis fenne,
Wiþ colde chile ich worþ a-slawe ne go y neuere henne.”

Wiþ þat cam renne sire Bruyllant þe kyng of mountmirree,
& þe kyng of combres, sir Sortibrant is conseyler þat was pryuee;
& op þay drowe . sire Balan þe Amyral of þe dyche:
þat so on þe fenne þo was by-gan þat a semede þe diuel ileche.
Wanne þat he was vppe þo & stod oppon ys fet,
for sorwe made he muche wo & mornyng eke gret;
& saide: “alas! for Lucafer þat was so strong a kniȝt,
& for my barons þat wern her so noble men & wiȝt!
þe flour of Chyualarie now haue y lost [al] for þe loue of one,
In wham y trust to alre most & heo me haþ by-gone.”

“Sire,” þan saide Sortybran “y-lif me betre eft-sone,
Ho þat ne wol bi conseil dan som tyme hym schal mone.”

“By Mahoun,” þan swer þe Amyrel sykynge al for tene,
“Er xv. dawes y wil ful wel of hymen y wreke bene.
doþ now & leteȝ myn hornes blowe quiclich and anon,
þat myne men mowe iknowe what þay schulleþ don.
þe tour we wollaþ anon asaile & awreke ous of our fon.”
“It is now,” quaþ he, “sanȝfaile to late þer-to to gon,
þe day him is a-go ful ny y rede ȝut þat ȝe leue
Til to-morwe þat þe sonne be hy ne schal hit no-þyng greue.
By þat þy barons wolleþ be come & beo assembled here.”
“y grante,” quaþ þamyral, “al & some god counsail is god to lere.
Alas for my gode felawe Lucafer þat me ys wo.

þes frensemen him habbeþ a-slawe now wot y wel it ys so.
Ac to Mahoun y make auov to wham ys al my chere,
To morwe we wolleþ with strengþe y-now by-gynne þe sege here;
& fro þat time she ys by-gunne ne schal heo neuere be laft,
Til þe tour aȝen be wonne wiþ strenþe ouþer be craft.
& þan schulleþ þay þeues stronge þat þus me habbeþ agreued,
Beo to-drawe and eke an-honge & al-so for-gon hure heued.
& my doȝtre þe foule scoute þanne schal heo beo for-brent,
For hure couyne to-ward þat route & hure anbettyment.
þey mote nedes wiþ-oute faile sone ȝeld op þe toure
For þay ne haueþ noȝt vytaile to lyue with dawes foure.
Of Charlemeyn ne his ferede nabbeþ þay non help, y legge;
y knowe it wel he wol drede Mantryble for þe brigge.”
Amorwe be non þyder wern y-come so many Sarsynȝ wyȝte,
þat þe feldes wer keuerid alle & some with scheldes & helmes briȝte.
þe Ameral þyderward haþ him nome, to þe feldeward þan ful riȝt;
& wan he sawe þat huge trome his herte anon gan lyȝte.
þan þe Amiral hem tolde with tristour by him how [it] is y-went
& of þis barons on þe tour how þay him habbeþ y-schent.
þay sworen þanne ȝunge & olde to hym by commun assent,
þe syge scholde be þer iholde to ȝer ȝyf nede by stent.
þe sarsyns þan gunne vaste bulde hure pauylons þar with-oute.
þe logyng of þat gret host fulde vj. mylen to gon aboute.
Now god helpe þe frensche men þay aren in grete drede;
y not how þay schul a-scape þen þat hy ne goþ to dede.

Now buþ þus barouns of honour al-one þer enclos;
Wyþ Sarsyns biseged in þe tour an .C. þousand fos;
Of hem alle þat þar were drede had þei none,
[Ac] þe vytailles lacked there hwyche were neȝ agone.

þe Amyral clypede to him þan Maubyn of egremolee;
A s[uch þ]ef as he was an was non in his regnee.
“Maubyn,” saide þe Amyral “wolt þou hit vndertake,
To steȝe out ouer þe castel wal wanne þe nyȝt gynt blake,
& priuyliche stalke in-to hur bour my doȝter þat lyþ þere,
& stele þe gurdel of honour þat she ys woned to were?

& brynge him me hol & sound wan þov hast don þy dede;
And þov schalt haue an hundred pound of golde for þy mede.
for if y may þat gurdel dure fro hure so take away,
To wynne þe tour þan am y sure with-inne þis þridde day.
for whyle heo haueþ þat gurdel fyn no hunger ne may hem deere.
Stel me þe gurdel, gode Maubyn ne spare þov for no fere.”

“Sire, my lord,” þan saide þe þef “let me þar-wiþ al-one;
y wol do þe haue þat þe ys lef to-morwe or it be none.
þis nyȝt wil y my myster kyþe & do an hardy dede.”
þe A[myral] þankede him þanne swyþe & sayde “M[houn] þe spede!”

Wanne þe day him was afalle & tyme was come to walke,
Maubyn toward þe Castel walle pryuyliche gan hym stalke:
Sone he cam out ouer dych wiþ wyles þat a couþe,
In al þe werld nas þef him lych by norþe ne be souþe.
Wan he cam to þe castel wal oppon wend he by sleȝþe,
Wyþ a laddre of lethere & crokes smal sone had he þe heȝþe.
Comen ys he wiþ-inne þe tour þe paleys he þorw saȝte;
Atte laste he cam to Florippe bour as þe deuel [þan] him taȝte,
þe chambris dore þat was y-schyt sone he haueþ oundo.
Wyþ a charme oundude he hit and in he wente þo.
And fyndeþ þe barons in bedde ibroȝt & hymen he charmeþ so,
þat hy ne myȝte a-wakye noȝt for wele ne for wo.
Wyþ a charme he makeþ fyr & a candlee he attendeþ;
And to haue is desyr to Floripe bour he wendeþ.
þanne þe þef by-gan be-holde þe chambre al aboute,
And fond hure þer þat burde bolde liggyng vnder shroute.
Slepyng was þat ladi softe þe þef him bar ful stille,
And to & fro wende he ofte or he hauede ys wille:
Ate laste þan gurdel he fond liggyng at hure hede.
Mahoun he þonkede þan of is sond & gurd him with þat wede,

Gy of Borgoyne hure druwerye wakyng þe ȝute was hee,
& out at a wyndowe þan gan lye þat lay to-ward þe see;
Of þat host to be-holde þe huge aray & of sarsynȝ þe semblee.
þe wyle þe þef þo dude is pray þat yuele moste he þee!

Wan he haueþ þat gurdel so mo maystries wold he fonde;

To lye be þat burde þoȝte he þo & to don hure schame & schonde.
þe cloþes þat wern on hure bed ilaid araid al wiþ þe beste,
Alle haþ he wiþ is hondes braid doun by-nyþe hure breste.
þan liþ sche þer, þat swete þynge as whit as wales bon;
ys feye blod him gan to pynge and ful on hure anon,
And hent hure by þe middel faste & gan to kisse þat free.
Florippe a-wok and cryde an haste “now, lordes, helpeþ me!”
“Al þy cryyng is on waste” saide þe þef aȝee;
“y nam of hymen noȝt agaste þei mowe noȝt helpe þe.”

Hure damesels with þat cry a-wakede & vp of hure bed þay ras,
Al affraied þay sterte al nakede til hure þar sche was:
þe þef to hem þan tornd is fas þat was so blac so cole.
þan runne þai away & saide alas & wende þat deuel he wore.
By þat had he hur legges oundo & saide, “so Mahoun me saue,
Wheþer þov wile now ouþer no þy maydenhed schal y haue.”

Gyoun þat on þe turet was þorw grace iherd hure crye,
he torneþ him sone fro þat plas & þyderward gan hym hye;
& wan he saw him wyþ yule gras how he on hure gan lye,
“þef,” saide he, “by godes fas aȝeld þe, þov schalt dye.”

þan wax maubyn sore afferd & lep out of þe bedde;
Ac Gy wiþ þat adrow is swerd & a strok on him a ledde,
þorw is heued, chyn, & berd þat swerd adounward fledde,
& in-to þe breggurdel him gerd þan ful he adoun & bledde.

þan sche spak þat burde briȝt þat al naked was saf hir cerke;
“Wel worþ þat hond, my swete wiȝt y þankie þe for þy werke,
ne haddest þou come to me now riȝt & mad him of þy merke,
A schame for euere had he me diȝt now her al on þe derke.”

His felawes awakede he þan & tolde how he haþ founde a þef
þat was come in-to þat holde hem alle to repref;
& how þe þef þer riȝt scholde haue leyen by ys lef,
Nad he come þo as god wolde & distorbed þat myschef.
& how he haþ sleyn him a tolde him al þan wondrede þai myche þer
How he miȝte come oun þe wal & into hure chambre,
Ac [sikernesse] nad þey non his comyng whi yt was,
But vp þey sterte euerechon & be-held him on þe fas.

þan lai he þar so blac so pych ys bodi was neȝ to-hewe.
“þes ys,” quaþ Ro[land], “þe deuel ilych delyuery we ous of þe schrewe.”
þai leid on him hande þan an haste & to þe water gate him bere
& into þe see þer him caste & bede pleye þere.
Alas þe tyme þat he was bore for þe damage þat þer was þo:
For þo was þe gurdel þat he com fore y-lost for euere-mo.
þat gret damage ho may restore þat þanne was þar ido.
þoȝ he kyng ouþer Emperour wore to litel had he þar-to.

Bote wan þe frensche men vnderȝyte by þe gurdel how it was,
Sory þai wern, ȝe mowe wel wyte for þat foule cas.
Ac wan þai seȝe þat of þat þyng recuuerer non þar nas,
þay lefte þanne hure mornyng & þankede godes gras;
And confortede þat maide gent þat was so faire of siȝte,
And to hure beddes aȝen buþ went & rest hem þer al niȝte.

þan erlich oppon þe morwe wan þe sonne hure schon,
þe amerel & is host with sorwe armede hymen ecchon,
In gode & wel sykere wede y-mad of fair entayle;
And ȝurne þo þai gunne hem spede þe frensche men for tassaile.

þe A[miral] calleþ sir Bruyllant þe kyng of mountmyrreeȝ,
& þe kyng of Comble, Sir Sortybraunt & othre of his pryueeȝ:
“Herknyaþ, lordes of honor” saide he, “what is my þoȝt.
Our þef ys slawe on þe tour now he ne comeþ noȝt,
If he wer now lyues man afore þis had he come.”
“ȝea, for-soþ,” saiþ Sortybran “he is ded or nome.
Let blowe þyn hornes riȝt anon we wolleþ assaile þe tour.”
“now to,” quaþ þe A[miral], “euerechon myne barouns of honour.”
Hure hornes þai gunne þo to blowe ful many at one blaste,
þe Sarsyns þanne þyderward drowe to assaile þe tour an haste.
Hure engyns þanne þay arayde & stones þar-wiþ þay caste,
& made a ful sterne brayde wiþ bowes and arbelaste.
Wel scherpe doþ þay by-gynne to assayle þe grete tour;
Ac þes barons þat buþ wiþ-inne defendieþ hem wyþ vygour.
With stones & tres þat þay cast out oppon hure fon þat day,
Mo þan hundred of hure rout þay affulde ded on þe clay;
Of noþyng certis doþ (?) þay drede bot of liflode one.
Ac now failled boþe wyn & bred vatailles habbeþ þay none.

þe damesels þat woren of gret honour for hungre þai fulle y-sowe,
So dude Flo[rippe] briȝt on bour whar-for was sorwe ynowe.

G[y] of Borgoyne hure nywe spouse confortede hir wat he maye;
for hure is herte was angwischouse & to his felawes gan he saye:
“Lordes,” said he, “ȝe wyteþ wel þat we buþ her enclos,
Herde by-syged wyþ þe Amyrel & of oþre þat buþ our fos:
And now is this þe þridde day þat oure vytails failed;
Our bred, our wyn ys al away & harde we beþ asailed.
On myn herte me ys wo þat þys wymmen waxeþ feynte,
þey buþ so mate þay mowe noȝt go so honger haþ hem teynte.
& if þat hy among ous here for hungre scholde dye,
For ous a gret repref it were in euery companye.
Leuere me were, bi god almiȝt in my body be wounded sare,
þan to sen þys burdes briȝt for hunger þus forfare.
Teche we þar-fore in dede þat we buþ men of myȝte,
and do we now on our wede & araie we ous to fiȝte.
& wende we out of þis stronge tour to-ward þe Sarasyns;
And gete we ous vytailles with honour among our enymys.
Certis, come we hymen among somme [vytaille] schulle we haue;
Ouþer þey schullen don ous wrong al so god me saue.
Wat so þei ben þat letteþ ous oȝt vytailles þar to vacche,
non of ous ne sparie him noȝt strokes þat þai ne lacche.
Teche we þar to oure fos þat vytailes gete we konne,
And cesse we neuere of our purpos or we ha summe y-wonne,
Wer-wyth þes damesels of honour hure lif þar-with mown lede,
Til we haue other socour of Charlis and is ferede.
For betere is ous forto die amonges our fos in fiȝte,
þan her-inne clynge & daye for hunger riȝte.”

þan spak Flo[rippe] þat burde briȝt to hymyn euerechone:
“Ful litel ys ȝour god of myȝt þat vytailes ne sent ȝov none;
Hadde ȝe worschiped our godes free as ȝe ȝour han done,
Of vytailes had ȝe had plente maugre al ȝour fone.”

Roland hure ansuerede & saide “damesele, were þat soþ,
We wolde þanne do be rayde ȝe þoȝ þay ben ous loþ.
Damesele if ȝe wolde ous lede to þe godes of wham ȝe spake
þanne scholde ȝee seen in dede what worschip we wolde he[m] make.”

Of þat word was sche wel paid & þe keys sone sche hente,
& with þis lordes þat buþ for-said to þe maumerye þo sche wente.
To þe Synagoge wan sche cam þe dore heo haueþ oundo,
þan wei by-fore þan sche nam & þay come after þo.

Flo[rippe] drow a ridel þan þat stod be-fore þe frount,
þan sawe þay þar Sir Ternagan & eke hure god Mahount:
Iubiter al-so & iouyn stode þar hymen by-syde,
& eke hure god appolyn araid wiþ grete pryde.

þe mametes þat þai seȝen þare bi-fore hure aldre siȝt,
Euerchone y-maked ware of gold þat schon ful briȝt,
y-poudred wiþ stones preciouse þat wern þer-on i-piȝt.
þay schyne þer in tal þat house so doþ þe candeliȝt.
þan was þar at hure fete of encenȝ a fair dentee,
And of balme þat smylleþ swete & spycery gret plentee.

“Ihesu lord,” quaþ Olyuere “fro wan comeþ al þis gold?
now wold it god þat it were þar as me self it wold.”

þan hym spak sir Richard þe duke of normaundie,
“I kepte no more to my part bot iouyn wyþ-oute lye,
y wolde do þar-with to werche in Rowan my Citee,
And make newe þe heȝe cherche in worschip of þe trynitee.”

þanne sayde Duk Roland “þe tale to fulfille,
Char[lis] scholde haue þe remenant miȝt it be at my wille,
Tharwiþ miȝt he þanne an haste restore Rome Cytee,
þat þamyral Balan waste somtyme wiþ ys meygnee;
& do make vp Seynt petris churche þat þe Sarsynȝ han yule arayd,
And othre gode werkes werche þat god schold ben on apayd.”

Florippe to hymen saide þen “ȝe spekeþ gret folye,
If ȝe doþ as wyse men mercy ȝe hem crye,
& prayeþ hem ȝerne þat hy ȝov spede as þay buþ gode and hende,
& alþyng þanne what ȝe ha nede to ȝow wolleþ hy sende.”

“Damesel,” saide duk Gyoun “my prayer ys now ido.”
“For gode,” saide erld Ogeroun “so ys myn al-so;
Ac þay slepeþ alle so vaste þay mowe ous noȝt y-here:
y wil þar-for teche a caste to a-wakye hem alle yfere.”
Ogier Deneys adrow is brond & smot to sire Mahound,
þat al to pieces he to-wond & ful doun on þe grou[n]d.

Olyuer tok vp ternagan & casten aȝe þe wal,
þat legges & armes brek him fram in-to peces smal.
Richard, þe duk [of] normandye a drow is swerd wel fyn,
& al to-hew þe oþre twye iubiter & appolyn.

“Parfay,” þan saide duk Rolond to þat maide briȝt,
“þyne godes buþ naȝt in hond Wel litel ys hure miȝt,
for now þay buþ a-doun afalle þay mowe noȝt vp aȝene.”
“þat is soþ,” saide þat briȝt in halle & þat is now wel y-sene,
If ich hem worschipie after þis maugre mot y haue.
for þay mowe noȝt her y-wys hem-selue fram herme saue;
Ac y by-seche þat god of miȝt þat diede on þe rode,
Hwich of marie þat mayde briȝt while tok flechs & blode,
Ase wisly as y lyue riȝt a[nd] dayde for mannys gode:
þat Sone sum socour to ous diȝt & helpe ous of liflode.”
nad sche þer noȝt of hure bone fulich y-mad an ende,
Or heo for hunger had forgone hir wit & ek hur mende.
A soȝenyng þanne ful hure oppone & gan to walwe & wende.
“Alas!” saide þay euerechone “wo is ous for þis hende!”

Ro[land] tok hure vp wel softe & conforted hure wat he maye,
& for hure þanne sykede he ofte & til þe oþre gan to saye:
“In myn herte me ys wo þat our frend gynt feynte;
Sche is so mat sche may noȝt go so hunger hur haueþ enteynte,
& if sche þus among ous here for hunger daye scholde,
For ous for euere repref hit were for heo is trewe & holde.
Me were leuere, be swete iesus beo iwounded neȝ þe dede,
þan to sen hure fare þus for defaute of brede.
& now is þe þridde day a-gon þat our vitaile gunne to slake,
& bred ne wyn ne haue we non þat we hure mowe take,
Hure to conforty wiþ-in þis nede ne non of þe burdes alle,
þer-for do we by Gy is rede & vitailles ous schulleþ falle.

Fare we out of þis castel her vnto þe Saraȝyns,
Ous to gete vytailes ther amonges our enymys.
& wan we comeþ hem among somme schulle we haue,
Ouþer elles þay schulleþ don ous wrong al-so god me saue.
What so þay be þat letteþ ous oȝt our purchas for to make,
for godes loue ne sparieþ noȝt hure crones þat ȝe ne crake.

& if y þys day forþward spare Sarasyn ouþer torke,
for euere mot y þan for-fare for my dayes werke.
þer-for, lordes, on þys porpos let ous now so by-gynne,
þat we mowe þar of our fos such vytailes ous y-wynne,
Wer-with þis damesels & we mowe oure lyues lede,
Or we mowen bet y-socoured be wiþ Char[lis] & ys ferede.”
Alle þe oþre barouns free assentieþ to þat dede:
Now dure god in trynyte grantye hem wel to spede!

Sone þanne were þes barouns diȝt in sykere wedes,
In aketouns, helmes, & brynyes briȝt & on styþe stedes.
þe Castel ȝate was opened þo & þe draȝbrigge lete adoun,
& were in poynte forþ to go þan spak Ro[land] to Naymoun,
& prayde hym tabide þare to kepe þat entree,
þe wyle þay made þat ilke fare & þyder wer comen a-ȝe.

Neymys answerede & sayde, “nay why wiltou me mysbede?
ȝut am y bold in myn aray to don a mannis dede.”
“ȝe,” quþ Ro[land], “by my fay þou art wel god at nede,
þow schalt forþ wiþ me þis day þe betre þat ous may spede,
And duk Terry her schal leue for he ys doȝty man.”
Wan Terry hit herde, him gan greue bot noȝt ne saide he þan.
Wan Ro[land] hit a-perceuede & seȝ þat he gan waxe wroþ;
In is doynge he was ful sleȝ & til him sone he goþ.
“Terry,” saide he, “as þou art me lef ipraye þe on godes name
þat þou ne take it noȝt to gref þoȝ þou be laft at hame.
Our on mot nedes leuen her to kepe þis entree;
y pray þe kepet gode vere til þat we comen a-ȝee.”
Ouneþe Terry wolde assente to Abiden for þat nede;
Noþeles þis lordes buþ for y-wente crist of heuene him spede.

Forþ now prikeaþ þis bolde barouns wiþ a wel hardy chere,
Al so fers as any lyouns was euerech on is manere;
Wel y-armed on sikere stedes hure armure schon ful briȝte;
Don þay þenkeþ doȝty dedes longe or come þe nyȝte.
Toward þe Saraȝynȝ þay prykede faste & þe sonne schon ful liȝte.

þe A[myral] a-perceyuede hem þan an haste & awondrede him of þat siȝte;
Til him þan clipede he Sortybran and Bruillant of mountmyrreeȝ:

“Telleþ me,” quaþ þe A[myral], “if ȝe can what maner men buþ þeeȝ,
þat comeþ hiderward so boldely prykynge on þis grene.”
“Hit buþ,” quaþ þay “ful sykerly frenschemen wiþ-oute wene,
þat buþ now comen out of þe tour & þenkeþ with ous to fiȝte,
& for to do þe deshonour or we ben fullych diȝte.”

“Let blowe oure hornes,” quaþ þe A[myrel], “y hote ȝow riȝt a-non,
þat myn host may come with-oute dwel to fiȝte aȝen my fon.”
þan miȝte men many hornes here of latoun y-mad, & bras:
Wel sore þe Sarysyns affraid were wan þay herde þat blas.
Hure armes þai toke to hem for fere to aray hem in þat cas:
A schrewed lessoun scholde þey lere somme of ȝam sone þas.

þus Barouns fulle on hem ful sone or þay wern y-diȝte:
& Ro[land] cride “mont-ioye,” anon & smyteþ on wiþ miȝte.
þay laid on þanne wiþ herte & wil sturne strokes & grete;
& to hewe þ Sarasyns boþe bok & bil here herte blod mad þey swete.
With hure swerdes sherp y-grounde þai kuld hem & dude hem wo;
A þousant þay aslowe with-inne a stounde & ȝut y wene wel mo.

Wel fauȝt þanne duk Rolande wyþ durendale ys swerd adrawe:
He hew of heuedes, armes, & haunde of þe Sarasyns þat were on mawe.
And so hym dude þe erld Olyuer alle þat he miȝte a-reche,
A kulde hem doun afforn him ther & was hurelaste leche.
& euerech of al þe frensche ferde þar þay bere him so
þat euerech haþ slawe wyþ dent of swerde an .C. with-oute mo,
So þat þe furste schak was ouercome of hure enymys.
Ac þanne com frechs a ferly gome Clarioun þe kyng of Gryeȝ,
xv þousant in-to þe feld broȝte he of Sarsyn,
Wel araid wyþ sper & scheld and in armure god & fyn.
Cosyn was he to Balaan ys soster sone a was,
In paynye was þer þan no man þat in wraþþe þerst sen ys fas.

Wan duk Ro[land] y-saw him come with so many men of miȝtes,
To is felawes a cride al & some “now helpeþ, hende knyȝtes,
Teche we now wat men we byþ & gete ous vytailes here,
þat we mowe ous fede þar-wyþ & þe wymen þat buþ our fere.”
With þat drow he ys gode swerd and to Templer gan he ryde,
& þorȝ þe heued he him gerd wyþ a strok þat tyde:
A-noþer a smot þat was him neȝ & wel him gan a-rede,

And gurd him fro þat heued an heȝ in-to þe gurdel-stede.
þan laid he on wiþ miȝt and mayn in eche syde aboute;
So many he haueþ of Sarsyns slayn þat þe oþere by-gunne hem doute
& floȝe þanne out of is way wan þay knewe ys miȝte;
So doþ þe larke on someres day þe sperhauk þat is in fliȝte.

þan asscriede duk Roland sir Berard of moundisdier:
“Berard,” said he, “let go þyn hand & tech hem þat þou art her,
And by my trowþe fande y schel to don al my power,
& ho-so wil noȝt now do wel for-sake he þys myster.”

þe speche þat Ro[land] to Berard made gerte here hertes sprynge,
þay laide on þe Sarsyns strokes sade as herde as þay miȝt flynge.
Faste þay foȝte þanne euerechon & laide hure fon to grounde,
& to hewe hem boþe flechs & bon & ȝaue hem deþes wounde.
So many of hem thar had for-heawed Roland & is route,
þat al þe feldes þoȝte y-strawed of dede men al aboute.

þan turde hymen þys bachelers & seȝe comynge there
xxiiijti of faire somers whiche þat heuy bere,
Wyþ vytaylles boþe gode & fyne icharged alle þay worne;
Boþe wiþ bred & wiþ wyne wiþ flour & eke wiþ corne;
Wyþ grys, & gees, & capouns wyþ veneȝon & wyþ oyle,
Wiþ motoun, & bef & bakouns and othre gode vytayle.
Kyng heruer of Goran þe vitailes hadde y-sent
To þe heȝe Amyral sir Balan þyder þanne to present,
Be neȝentene vitaillers þat of þat syde were,
þat þanne dryuen þey somers to þe A[miral] as y said ere.

Wanne þe frenschemen y-seȝe hem come aȝen hem hy toke þe waye,
& by-trappede hem þanne al & some to wyte what ladden þaye.
Ac wanne þe barouns it i-knewe what þay in lode hadde,
þe Sarsyns þanne þay alto-hewe & þe vytailes with hem þay ladde.

Wyþ þat come out þe Sarasyn[y]s þat rathere were noȝt a-raid;
xxx. þousant of stoute paynymys in armis wel a-said.
þey wern y-armed in-to þe teþ & araid wel for þe fiȝt.
Wan þis barouns hymen seeþ somdel þay wern afriȝt.
To Duk naymes & Scot Gwylmer þan Ro[land] gan to crye:
“Dryueþ forþ þe vytailles ther [ȝond] to dure an hye,

And y me-self and Olyuer wyþ þys oþer part
Wolleþ come be-hynde her & kepe þe rereward.
now spede ȝow þat ȝe were as ȝe loueaþ ȝour honour,
Wyþ hors & al þat ilke gere wyþ-inne þe ȝonder tour.”

Alle þe Sarsyns þat were þanne by-gunne hem to relye
& after hem faste come renne & by-gunne hem to ascrye;
Ac Ro[land] tok his companye & let þe Somers pace,
And torneþ to hem-ward boldelye to mete hem in þat place.
Nov help hem þe heȝ kyng of heuene þat art of miȝtes most!
Ne were þer þo bot kniȝtes neȝene to fiȝte aȝen þat host.

þey fulle to-gadre atte laste & by-gunne a newe fiȝt;
þe barouns layde on hem vaste wiþ swerd faire & briȝt,
Of alle þe route was þar non þat þe frensche a-raȝte ariȝt,
þat þai ne cloue hym flechs & bon & dryuen hem doun with miȝt:
In a playn þat was ful fair & grene þat lay þar neȝ þe tour,
þe frensche men to muche tene was mad þat harde schour.

þe Saraȝyns þanne atte laste wan þey seȝe þat cas,
Glayues scherpe þai gunne caste & dartes y-feþered wiþ bras.
Duk Basyn, a doþþeper of fraunce þorȝ þe heued i-gerd þer was,
& ful doun ded þar by chaunce þan saide þe frensche “alas!”

Duk Ro[land] & erld Olyuer þan þay bleynte a syde,
& so he dude þe gode Ogeer & Gy wolde noȝt abide,
For drede of the lancynge þat com ther of speres þat fulle ounryde
þorȝ þat so war-of þe frensche wer dyscomfyted neȝ þat tyde.

þan cam Clarioun þe sturne kyng & loude hem gan ascrye:
“Falleþ on hem þai buþ fleoyng we schulleþ hem haue an hye.”
Gyoun turde til him hys stede and sayde þo, “þow schalt lye,
Arst y schal þe make blede her riȝt ich þe diffye.”

þe whyle þat Gyoun drow ys brond & þat word had spoke oneþe,
þar com a dart to hym fleand & herte his hors to deþe.
þe gode knyȝt þanne him ful a-non and eke ys stede of prys;
& wel sone þer fulle him vppon an hundred of Sarsyns.
þan was þar þat stronge baroun among is fon y-take.
þe Sarasyns dude his helm a-doun & maked is hed al nake,
His handes þanne þay toke riȝt & layden him be-hynde,
And ase faste as tweyne miȝt wiþ a corde þay dude him bynde,

And suþþe þe schrewes toke a clout to don him more tene,
& byndeþ ys eȝene þar-wiþ about for he ne schold noȝt sene.

þanne made sir Gy. a dulful mon & sayde, “welaway,
A, Ihesu lord, wat schal y don y am i-lost þis day!
Alas Char[les] vncle myn & kyng i-crouned free,
Now y knowe wel-a-ffyn þy message schendeþ me.”
Clarioun saide to þe kniȝt “þow syngest an ydel songe,
þis day schaltou ben yuele y-dyȝt & to morwe heȝe an honge.”

Wan þe oþre barons it wyste þat Gy was so y-take,
Wat þay miȝte do þay nyste bot gret sorwe þay gun make.
Alle þe vitaylles þay hauede nome þan þai lete hem gon,
& gadrede hem to-gadre alle & some to help ech oþer anon.
Ac arst erld Olyuer him bi-þoȝte wan he hem leue schel,
Of a somer þan he cauȝte of wyn a ful barel,
& of bred loues three y-mad of flour of whete;
& Capouns y-bake al-so tok he foure in þilke hete,
& iij. pecokkes y-bake on past & a syde of venyȝoun;
& þese vytailles ther haþ he cast in-to þe dych adoun,
& to his felaschipe him is adrawe wiþ hymen for ta-byde,
Hwich þe Saraȝyns þat were ounmawe angryde in euery syde.
þe frensche men þai hadde y-dryue wel neȝ þe tour þat stounde,
So hard batail þai hadde hem ȝyne with wepnes scherp y-grounde.

Ac wan þay neȝede so neȝ hure strengþe hure hertes spronge vp ageyn,
þay dryuen hem aȝen an aker lengþe þe Saraȝyns in þe pleyn;
& in þe reculynge þat þay made an hundred of hem wer sleyn,
Wyþ sturne strokes þe frensche hade ȝyuen him in-to þe breyn.
þe Sarsyns þan lefte þat discoumfit & to þe tour þay buþ ago.
Olyuer þe vitails noȝt for-ȝyt bot after wente þo.
To þe tour þai come to-gadre an haste & spedilich in þey wente,
& After hymen made þe gate faste & þe draȝbrig vp þay bente.
Sory men þay aliȝten alle of hure stedes þan adoun,
For þe meschef þat was by-falle on Basyn and Gyoun.

Of þe paleys þan com adoun anon Flo[rippe] þat burde briȝt,
& to Rolond sche ys agon & askede of him ful riȝt:
“War is he, myn owene spouse Gyoun, þe gode kniȝt?

Now y sen hym noȝt in þis house a-gon ys al myn hiȝt.”

“Damesele,” said he wiþ-oute faile “to sayn soþ of þy make,
Hit ne may beo no consail þe Saraȝyns him habbeþ itake,
& Duk Basyn we han y-lore among þe Sarsynȝ blake.
& ȝut for Gy me greueþ more certis for þy sake.”

Wan Flo[rippe] of ys takyng herde for sorwe sche saide, “alas!”
Sche wrong hur haundes & foule ferde & sowened in þat plas:
And wan sche out of sowenyng ros loude sche gan to crie:
“Alas ys Gyoun wiþ is fos alas! for sorwe y dye.
Certis bot y haue Gy aȝen wiþ-inne þis dawes twye,
þis ilke tour schal iȝelde ben þe þridde day be Marye.
Alas heo saide, & welawo to longe y lyue in londe,
Now is he. fram me ago þat scholdbe myn hosbonde.
Alas! loue, wo dost þou me þov sturest al my blod.
Alas! Gyoun þe loue of þe wil do me waxe wod.”
Wiþ þat ful sche þat burde briȝt in sowenyng doun aȝeyn,
And wanne þat maide speke myȝt wepynge sche gan to sayn:
“Now ic certis neȝ for-ȝete þe Angwys þat i hadde
thre dawes for defaute of mete so sorwe me haueþ be-stade.”

þan had Ro[land] þe noble kniȝt gret pite of þat mayde,
And confortede hure wiþ al is myȝt & tok hur op & sayde:
“Now damesele, by god almiȝt so þow be wel a-paide,
þow schalt him haue to-morwe or niȝt þat þe cok hym graide.”

To Ro[land] þan sche gan abowe almost doun til his fete,
& þankede him wel faire i trowe of is confort swete.
þanne him saide erld Olyuer “we buþ in yule aray,
þat we ete any mete her þis ys þe þridde day;
& þus damesels for-werneþ al þat me greueþ werst:
& we ous self buþ feynt & pal for hungre & for þerst.
Al ȝour mornyng leteþ now ben & murȝhere let ous make,
of þys vytailles þat ȝe sen whyche y haue y-take.
Her-of mowe we take our fille þa wile þai wolleþ leste,
& mo þer-after gete we schulle & take we her-of þe beste.”
þe othere him þankede þanne anon for he was so hende,
And toke þe damesels wiþ hem ecchon & in-to þe paleys gunne þay wende.

To þe mete þay set hem þere & ete & dronke hure fille.
Now torne we aȝen þar we were & of Gy y wil ȝou telle.

Þe Sarasyns ledeþ forþ Gyoun harde & faste y-bounde,
To þe Amyralis pauylloun þei come wiþ-inne a stounde;
& by-vore Balan, þe Ameral þay hym broȝte an haste,
And Gyoun þanne was teynt & paal so longe he hadde yuaste.
Ac of body was he a seemly kniȝt of fair schap & of free;
nas þer nowar yfounde in syȝt a fairer man þan hee.
þe Amerel het hym sone þere to tel him al þat cas,
Of wat kyn come he were & wat ys name was.

And Gy Answerede wiþ-oute ensoyngne as he him stod afforn.
“Ma calþ me Gyoun of Borgoygne in þe contre þat y was born.
þe kyng of fraunce Charlemayn he ys myn vncle riȝt,
Cosyn al-so y am Germayn to Roland, þe gode kniȝt.”

þan þe Amyrel saide an haste “y knowe þe wel ynow:
Hit is twelmonth and more apaste to Ma[houn] y make avow!
þat my doȝtre hure loue to þe caste & euere suþþe haueþ y-dow.
Hure loue ys mored on þe ful vaste & þat me semeþ now,
By-cause of þe now haue y lore myn men of heȝe kynne.
& þe ȝond tour me ys wers þer-fore & al my tresour with-ynne:
By þe haue y þat deshonour tel me þer-for anon,
Wat men buþ þat buþ on my tour & hure names euerechon.”

“Sire,” quaþ Gyoun, “by myn hand þat schel y þe telle fawe:
Ther ys ferst Duk Roland & Olyuer his felawe,
And ther ys Berard of mountdisdier & Richard of normandye,
And Duk Naymys, & erld Ogier & Alorys þe erld of Brye,
& Geffray þe lord of langeuyn & eke þe erld Aubry;
Ther ys al-so the Scot Gwylmyn & of Ardan þe duk Tery,
Basyn was þe elleuefþe þat ȝe han slawe there,
& y me self was þe twelþe y-take amonges ȝow here:
Ac ȝut or come oȝt longe & Charlis may ride & gon,
Abigge þow schalt þis wronge þat þov ous hast y-don.”

Wyþ þat a Sarsyn cam forþ sterte þat souȝte is owene deþ,
& wiþ ys fuste harde a gerte Gyoun agayn þe teþ,
þat endelonges is berde riȝt þan ran adoun þat blod;

And þan him wax þat man of miȝt for wraþþe wel neȝ wod,
þar-fore to ben alto-hewe to wreke him wolde he fonde;
By þe nekke hent he þan shrewe & heuid vp ys honde,
& þar-wiþ an þe heued him duste & harde gan hit layn,
þat al aboute is grete vuste þan wend out al þat brayn.

þe Ameral þanne gan loude crye wan he soȝ him falle:
“Byndeþ þan þef,” gan he seye “þat schameþ þus ous alle.”
þe Sarsyns þanne on him fulle alle wiþ herte grete,
& shrewed-liche þai dede hym kulle boþe with honde & fete;
His cote armure þay alto-drowe þat he had him oppon,
& dude him sorwe & schame ynow þer ne spared him neuer on.

þe A[meral] þanne gan crie an haste “y hote ȝe sle him noȝt,
Bote byndeþ hym herde & faste til y haue my consayl soȝt.”
þe Sarȝynȝ after his heste dide Sir Gwy so harde bynde
þat þe blod barst out þar mide at euery nayles ynde.

To hym þan clepede sir Balan þe Ameral of nubbee,
Kyng Bruyllant and kyng Sortybran ys counseilers pryuee,
& oþre ynowe he dude al-so þat come to him wel sone
By þe prysoun he askede þo wat was best to done.

“Sire,” sayde kyng Sortybran “hast þou gode chere
þy faire tour to gete aȝan wyþ-oute any where,
And þe frensche distruye þat buþ þer-aan and þees þat is here?”
“By Mahoun, ȝea,” quaþ balaan “þer-of wold y here.”

“þou schalt haue consail god” saide þe Sarsyn þo;
“Tak xxti þousand men of mod ate leste way or mo,
þat ben doȝty on hure dedes & y-diȝt in god armure;
& loke þay haue faire stedes þat ben gode & sure,
þanne do þat þaye in-buched beo to-niȝt how so be-tyde,
In þe wode þat þow miȝt see ȝond her fast be-syde:
& þan scholtou don þe forchys there by-fore þe castel riȝt,
So þat þay wyþ-ynne there y-sen hem vp y-pyȝt,
þan wollaþ þay wel vnderstonde why þat þay buþ diȝt
And to-morwe let þes be þar an honge by-for hure alre siȝt.
Y wot ful wel þay buþ so prout & of hure dedes ounmawe,
þat þay willeþ þanne come out to rescuwy hure felawe.

þan schullaþ our men of hem be-war & breken out of þe bossche,
& þov wyþ þyne, & be-trappe hem þar & take hem at one russche.
& þus schalt þov wreke þe of þy fon & gete þy tour aȝeyn.”
“þus conseil is god & schal by don” þe Amerel þan gan seyn.

Wel sone dude þe Amyrel after ys counseil riȝt:
xx þousand Sarsyns araide he wel & to þat wode he haueþ him diȝt.
Hure ledere dude he þanne make Cornyfer an heȝene kyng;
& þay hit habbeþ vnder-take to parfornye wel þat þyng.

Erly on þe morwetyde after þat þay were there,
þe Amyral wolde no leng abyde bot þe Galwys let arere;
By-fore þe tour y-set þay were a litel by-syde a cost,
Noȝt fer fro þen buchyment þere & neȝ to ys owen host.
And þanne ordeynde he for drede an hundred of Sarsyns stronge,
þat scholde Gyoun þyder lede sickerliche, & hym an honge.
þay hundred Sarsynȝ after his heste harde han him bounde,
And þanne aboute ys nekke þay caste a rop ful harde y-wounde.

And wan þat aperceuede þe gode kniȝt þat a scholde ben an honge,
ȝerne prayhede he to god Almiȝt scholde ys soule auonge.
þys schrewede Sarsyns þat wern ounwraste þan ladde forþ Gyoun,
To þe Galwis-ward wel faste þay enchacede þan baroun;
& wyþ sturne staues þay him bute as þay þo dryuen him forþ,
þat after euerech of hure strokes grute ys body al swart y-worþ.
Ac wan Gy y-saw þe galwe tree þan gan he wepe stronge:
“Alas ” saide he, “þat y schold see þat day to ben an honge.
Alas! myne felawes war buþ ȝee wy tarieþ ȝe so longe?
Certis bot if ȝe helpe me y her daye now wyþ wronge.”

Duk Ro[land] þat ys cosyn was at a wyndowe out gan lye,
Sone saw he be-fore ys fas þe Galwys arered an hye,
And many Sarsyns stonde aboute araid on hure gere;
Wel y-armed was al þe route þan wondrede he wat hit were.
Sone clipede he erld Olyuer & ys oþre felawes wyȝte;
And prayed hem alle come neer to seen a selcouþ siȝte.
And þanne of hymen he gan enquer wat þat amounty myȝte,
And wham þay þoȝte an honge ther on þe galwys þat þer were diȝte.

þanne answerede duk Naymoun & saide on his entent:

“þay wolleþ an honge þar Gyoun sone þay han y-ment.
Ys cloþynge þai han alle of i-don & al naked þar a stent,
Bote we him þe rathere helpe mown thar he worth y-schent.”

Wan Duk Ro[land] þat soþe y-knew þanne sturede al ys blod,
ys colour changed & ys hew for angre wax he neȝ wod.
Afforn him sone com knely þat may Flo[rippe] þat was so god,
Hym to helpe sche gan him pray for his loue þat daiede on rod:
“& harneyscheaþ ȝow with-oute lette hastelich þat ȝe be diȝt,
And we wymmen willeþ ȝow fette ȝour stedes araid ariȝt.”
“Doþ þanne, damesele, as ȝe sede ” quaþ Ro[land] þat was so wyȝt,
“& we nulleþ spare for no drede to help him with al our miȝt.”

“Asarmes!” þanne cride Rolond “asarmes, euerechon!
Gowe army ous wyþ ayþer hond þat we wer þar anon.”
Hasteliche buþ þay wel y-diȝt in gode & syker wede,
hwych was clene & fayr of siȝt and fyn ynow at nede.
To ech of hem tok þat swete wiȝt sunderly þanne ys stede,
And wan Ro[land] was on his alyȝt to is felawes þanne a sede:

“Lordes vnderstondeþ ȝow of wat y am be-thoȝt;
We ne buþ[but] ten her now & mo ne beo we noȝt.
And of þus Sarasyns þer nys no numbre þat ous haueþ by-set,
& hy ous wolleþ foule encombre bote we ous bere þe bet.
þer-for doþ by counsayle y pray ȝow in godes name,
þat non of ous to oþer faile bot hold ous to-gadre y-same;
& þat ech of ous on his helue do al þat a may,
To helpe ys felawe euene him-selue among our fon to day,
& anpeyny we ous our felawe to fette þat ys among ys fos.
& slee we hymen þat willeþ ous lette to don þar our purpos,
For to ben þar alto hewe our non him fancy noȝt.
And egreliche y schal hem schewe somdel of my þoȝt.
And euere draweþ to-ward me wanne ȝow nedeþ meste,
And y wille ȝour warant be þe whyle my swerd wil leste.
And whar any of ȝow be in stour haue ȝe þar-of no doute,
Y schal ȝow come to socour maugre al þe route,
And doþ ȝe al-so euery man helpeþ other att nede.”
So þey wolde þai sayden þan “crist of heuene ous spede!”

“Lordlynges,” saide Floripe þo “ȝe dwelleþ her wel longe;

Bote ȝe þe rathere ben a-go my lemman worth an honge.”
In-to hure chambre sche renneþ faste & þat shryn sche broȝte adoun,
And openede hit bi-for hem an haste & tok out þat comly croun
þat was on cristes heued y-set on his passyoun;
& þay hit cussede wiþ-oute let wiþ god deuocioun.
And suþþe þay blessede þer with hure face & set hit hure helmes oppon.
And þan þay hopede by godes grace þe sykerloker þay miȝte gon.
þe ȝeates wern y-oppened wyde þe draȝtbrigge þay lete falle,
Euerech þanne by oþrys syde wenten out fair with-alle.
Floripe, þat maide briȝt & schene þe ȝeate þan made faste,
& þe draȝt-brigge drow op aȝene wan þay were apaste.

þus Frenschemen of douce fraunce euene þay toke hure pas,
þe Saraȝyns þo to yuele chaunce þar þat þe fourchys was.
By þat was Gyoun vp a-stoȝe oppoun þe laddre an heȝ,
& þe rop y-knyt þe tree aboȝe & he y-pult out wel neȝ.
ac Ro[land] with þat cam þyder renne sodeynliche on is stede,
And criede to þe Sarsynȝ þenne “aȝeld ȝow, ȝe buþ dede!”
Wanne þe Sarsyns y-sawe him come ful sore þay were affriȝt,
þe hardieste þat were of al þe trome polte hem to þe fliȝt.
And þan was Gyoun þar y-laft in the ladre him-self al-one,
Al ys cloþes were him by-raft with Sarsyns þat buþ a-gone.

þe Sarasyns þanne with yule grace wel faste þey floȝe away,
And our barouns hem gun chace as harde as þay may.
So harde hy hem þanne quaȝte fleoyng toward hure host,
þat þe moste part of hem hy caȝte & sone abatede hure bost.
Somme of hem þanne þay gerte þorȝ þe heued in-to þe tonge,
And summe of hymen þay wer herte þorw lyure & þorȝ longe.
Alle þat þo miȝte ben of-take wyþ-oute tales mo,
Wel sone hur bred was y-bake hure lif-dawes wern ago.
Al þat company was so by-fraped among þes frenschemen,
þat among hem alle þar ne ascaped ouneþe bote ten.

þanne þe Saraȝynȝ at arst brek out þat were on þe enbuchyment;
Kyng Cornyfer & al ys rout aȝen hem þanne þay went.
Cornyfer hem gan ascrye “cowardes, what hav ȝe ment?
For ȝour outrage & ȝour maystrye ȝe schulle beo now y-schent.

Alle ȝe schulleþ beo an honged hye wiþ him þat ȝunder stent,
& hasteliche ȝe schul dye aȝeldeþ ȝow, ȝe buþ hent!”

Wan duk Ro[land] yhurde hym speke for angre a wax neȝ wod,
By-fore ys felawes he gan out-breke & modyly til him rod,
And with durendal ys gode swerd a strok til him a sente.
Ac Cornyfer is helm was herd & mad þe strok to glente;
þan Cornyfer to Roland werd a sturne strok gan slente:
Ac Ro[land] kepede hym fram ys berd & with his scheld him hente;
bot þorȝ is scheld þe strok him sprong and þe schild to-chon,
ac ys habryioun was ful strong it ne miȝte no ferrer gon.
God þan þankeþ duk Roland þat harm hauede he non.
With þat heuede he an heȝ ys brand & sone a ȝaf hym on;
Oppon is heued with egre mod a strok til him he ledde,
And þoȝ is helm were fyn & god þorw-out is heuid it fledde.
þe dynt was smert & forþ him glod & endelong is chyne hym spedde:
At ys breggurdle þat swerd a-stod he ful adoun & bledde.
ys stede he sayseþ sone þas & forþ-wyþ him awente,
& til he cam þar galwys was neuere he ne astente.
Gy of Borgoyngne þar afond y-blyndfalled, and by-bounde,
Hondes & eȝene he him ounbond þanne with-inne a stounde.
His cloþis leyen þer faste by þat Sarsyns him hadde by-nome:
he shridde him þer-with þan hastely & cloþed him al & some
Ro[land] þan tok him with-oute lak þe stede he haueþ y-wonne,
And Gyoun sterte oppon ys bak & faire þankedem þanne:

“Cosyn,” saide duk Roland “hold þe by my syde,
Til þow haue armys at hand to defendy þe wiþ pryde.”
“Sir,” said he, “as ȝe me bereþ y wol do loude & stille.”
þe Saraȝyns sone þat cry arereþ in tal þat host ful schille,
And þanne þay prykede among our men as þay were wode;
Ac hymen duste doun on þe fon wiþ swerdes & axes gode.
þanne comencede þat harde fiȝt scharper miȝte non bene;
Many was þe helm & brynye briȝt þat þar was cloue with tene;
& many a scheld was þar y-cleued & many a man was to-hewe.

of legges & armes honde & heued sone þan lay ful þe rewe.
Ro[land] hente kyng Saladyn & duden a dede bolde,
for his armure was riche & fyn on is lift arm he him gan volde,
& plyȝte him of is sadel with mayn & let go way þat hors:
& wiþ is riȝt hond a-brak is necke a-twayn & to Gy tok he þat cors:
“Dispoille þis body,” þan gan he saye “& arme þe on ys wede,
& þanne hast þou armes gode & gaye to helpe þe on þis nede,
And y wil kepe þe if y maye þe whyle þov dost þy dede.”
þan was he sone in his araye & aȝen oppon ys stede.

Wanne Gy was armed & wel an horce þan sprong vp is herte;
“Leggeþ on, Lordes,” said he, “wyþ force & smyteþ strokes smerte;
And techeþ hem a lessoun of our lay for þai buþ neȝ be-vapid,
And y schal tech hem wel þis day þat ych am askapid.”
Wan þay herde what he spak grete strokes to hymme þay rauȝte,
With strengþe þay reculede þat host a-bak more þan a boȝe-draȝte.
So many of hem þay han for-hewed as þay reculede aȝeyn,
þat al þe feld semed y-strewed of Sarȝyns þat þo were sleyn.
Ac þe wyle þat þys was don oþere araid hem vaste,
xxti þousand of hure fon to fiȝte with hem an haste.

Now buþ þus furste discoumfyt þe frenschemen doþ abyde.
Duk Naymes þan behuld a syt & saw war þay come ryde,
Al frechs out of hure pauylouns to hymen-ward wiþ pride.
þan spak Naymes to þus barouns & saide til hem þat tyde:
“Lorlynges, drawe toure strengþe bet & lete we al thys ben,
Ouþer with þus Sarsyns we worþ y-let þat ȝe her come y-sen.
Were we a litel ner þe tour þanne nere we in none doute,
þar miȝte we take god socour & þe Sarsyns holde with-oute.”

þan spak Ro[land] þe werreour wordes þat dude auaile:
“What scholde we now don on þe tour with-oute sum vytayle?
We ne lafte to day þar wanne we wende neyþer wyn ne bred,
Were we ther we wern y-schende for hunger we scholde be ded.
Betere ous ys to daye her worschiply agayn our fos,
þan schamly for to asterue þer for hungre on þat clos:
& þer-for abyde we ase men & fiȝte we with hem ȝeare,
& vytaylles we wollaþ maugre hem gete ous or we fare.”

“Wel depardieux,” quaþ þis barouns “ounþank habbe þat spare,
& þat we ne prikie to þe pauillouns to chalangie ous summe þare.”

þanne þay gunne to pryke vaste toward hure logyngge,
And þe Sarsyns aȝen hem anhaste as harde as þay may flynge
& þan þus doþþepers of fraunce torndem to þat ferde,
Boþe wiþ swerd, axe, & launce þe[y] mette hem in the berde.
Faste þay layde þe Saraȝyns on wiþ swerdes & axes gronde,
& dussched a-doun to deþe hure fon a þousand with-inne a stounde.
þar was cloue ful many a scheld & many an helm to-flent,
And many an haberke þat arst wel held þan was þer to-rent.

Gy of Borgoygne þanne a droȝ þat swerd þat Saladyn oȝte;
Many a Sarsyn þar-with a sloȝ & is takyngge þanne aboȝte.
He leid on Sarsyns al aboute strokes styþe and sterke,
Wham so he smyteþ of þe route he ȝyfþ him deþes merke.

Flo[rippe] with hure damesels stoute in þe tour þan sche lay,
And at a wyndowe loked oute & al þis batail y-say.
Wan sche saw hure lef Gyoun þat þanne delyured was,
And doȝtyliche dynged ys foes adoun amonges hem as a gas,
Hure care was gon þanne euerydel & toward him sche cryes:
“Wel worþ þat hand þat can so wel chastye ys enymyes,
Wer þou, leman, with me her riȝt now y wolde þe kysse.
Noþeles now y se þe ther recuuered ys al my blysse.
ȝut schal my fader þe Amerel in þy donger falle y-wisse,
& þan schalt þov him acquyte wel of al ys shrewidnesse.”

“Gy,” said ogier þe Deneys “herkne a lytel wyȝt;
Hurst þou noȝt what sche says Flo[rippe] þat burde briȝt?
Al hure herte on þe sche lays Gyoun, by god almiȝt,
Bote þov hure louye wel alweys certis þou dost ounriȝt.”

“My herte,” quaþ Gy, “gan vp-sprynge wanne ich herd hure speke,
y wot it were hure lekynge miȝt y-me selue a-wreke.
& so schal y or þe sonne go doun haf at hem her an hye.”
þan saide iantail ogeroun “smyt on & ich þen-vye.”
With þat þay prikede forþ on þe pleyn toward þe pauyllouns.
þe Sarsyns relied hymen ageyn & meteþ with our barouns.
& þanne be-gan þe furthe fiȝt a sherper was þer non;
þe Sarsyns were to-hewe þar riȝt boþe þorȝ fleschs & bon.

þe frensche laid on wiþ swerdis briȝt & laiden a-doun hur fon,
Alle þat þai þan alacche miȝt þer na ascapedem non.

Ro[land] laid on wyþ herte god in euery syde aboute,
And baþede is swerd in hure blod þay gunne him sore doute.
Alle þai floȝen out of is way by wich side so he wente,
for non nas founde þat ilke day þat miȝte with-stonde is dente.

Gy of Borgoygne to a Sarsyn rod þat hiȝte Cursegreyn,
& wyþ ys swerd þat wel bot a gert him in-to þe brayn.
Anoþer a slow sone on þe plas & þan þridde he smyteþ so,
þat helm & heued & al þat þar was he clef hit euene a-two.
þan ferthe he smot þan on ys yre & set him with al ys mayn,
þat ys hed fleȝ þerfro þe swyre ten fet on þe pleyn.

“Cosyn,” sayde duk Rolond “now þou berst þe wel,
y-blessid be þy gode hond & eke þy Damesel.
For suþþe þe tyme þat hure steuene com to þyn ere ariȝte,
Hit was no ned, be god of heuene to bidde þe for to fiȝte.”
Wel longe haþ þys batail dured & muche murdre of men þer was,
Al þat þay smyteþ wiþ ax or swerd sone to deþe it gas.

Flo[rippe] þat mayde fair & slegh at a wyndowe þer sche lay,
To þys barouns sche gradde an hegh as ich ȝow telle may.
“Of oþyng, lordes, beo ȝe war” til hymen gan she say,
“Newe vytaille to gete ȝou þar þe olde buþ al away.”

Olyuer herde þe damesel & to his felawes he saide a-non:
“Certis þat maide ous redeþ wel our profyt for to don.”
“Parfay,” saide duk Rolond “y hurde wel what sche saide.
Go we þer-for wiþ strengþe of hond we willen make a braide.
Prike we Euene to þe pauylous ne spare we noȝt for fere,
Vytailles for to gyten ous if þar buþ any þere.”
þanne þay prykede forþ with pride þis frensche men echone;
þe Sarsynȝ nold hem noȝt abide bot duden hem for to gone.
Ac þus lordes hem gunne to chace euene by-fore hire syðt,
& duste to deþe riȝt on þe place al þat þay atake miȝt.
þis barons enchacede hur fon so faste with swerdes igronde briȝt,
Til þay kemen atte laste to Amyral ys pauyloun riȝt.

By þat wern þe feldes alle of þe Sarsyns y-vewdid wel,

100

& were a-floȝen grete & smalle and eke þe Amerel;
In-to hure pauylons þay floȝe for fere & þe barouns þoȝte after fare,
& maugre hem alle þat þar were haue i-had vytailles thare.
Bote þanne be-hulde þus bachelers by-forn hem & seȝen come
Two & þyrty grete somers y-charged alle & some
Wyþ fair flour y-maked of whete & wyþ bred and flechs & wyn,
& oþre vytailles smale & grete þat were bothe god & fyn.
xxiiij. Vytaylers of Mantryble þat Sarsyns were,
By-fore hymen dryue þay somers þat þanne come there.

Smertly wan þay seyȝ hem come aȝen hem þay toke þe way,
& by-trapd hem ther al & some to wete what ladden þay.
Ac wanne þay it wiste & knewe what þay in lode hadde
þe vytailers þay alto-hewe & þe vytailles with hymen þai ladde.
To duk Naymes & to duk Terry þan Ro[land] spak & badde,
To dryuen hem by-fore him spedily & noþyng þay ne adradde.
þey twyne hit habbeþ vndernome þe somers to brynge enclos,
And þei othere to after come & to kep hem fram hure fos.
To þe tour-ward þey dude hem drawe þes lordes þanne with pride,
& Basyn þay founde þat was a-slawe on þe way as þay gun ryde.
þe somers buþ alle forth a-paste & at þe tour ȝeate a-stente.
þus othere toke þat cors an haste & to þe tour ȝeate þar-wiþ buþ wente.
Flo[rippe] redely was thar-ate & let in þuse lordes gente,
And schutte faste aȝen þe gate & þe draȝbrigge vp sche bente.

Now habbaþ þus lordes of honour y-maked a fair iornee,
And habbeþ wyþ hem þar on þe tour of vytails gret plente.
Mete and drynke þay han y-broȝt ynow for monþes thre,
Þan Amyral þanne ne dradde þay noȝt for al is grete poste.
þe castel þay þoȝte þanne holde boldelich with honour,
Til Charlis wyþ is barnye bolde come hymen to socour.

To is pauillon y-floȝe was þe A[miral] & huld hym there,
& Til hym he clepede in þat cas of ys conseyl þay þat were,
& sayde, “lordes of muche honour what is ȝour best consayle
Of þes frenschemen on þe tour þat habbeþ oure vytaille?
Bred & wyn þay haue y-now & flour al-so y-bake,
& fleschs al-so as y trow iij monþes hem mury to make.
Wyste Char[lis] þat ys her ny by hem nov how it stent,

101

Wel sone he wolde hem socoury & þanne were we schent.”

“Syre,” saide kyng Sortybran “assemble þow þyn host,
ȝonder to-ward þe Barbygan in þys nexte cost.
þy castel of tre þat hiȝt brysour þyder þou do him fette.
& let bryng anon him by-fore þe tour with-oute more lette;
& pote þer-on vj hundred men þat kunne boþe launce & caste,
& othre þat kunne demayny hem wiþ boȝes & arbelaste,
& let þyn oþre Sarasyns wan þou hast by-gunne so,
beo be-nethe wyþ þyn engyns & teche what þay kunne do.
& þan let þow þyn hornys blowe a þousant at o blaste,
& wanne þe frensche men it knowe þay wolleþ beo sore agaste.
þe tour schaltou þanne assaille wyþ schot & cast of gynne,
& sone wynne him with-oute faille maugre hem al wyþ-ynne,
& slen hem ther with strengþe of hant & so of hem þe wreke.”

þan him answerde kyng Bruyllant “of folie dost þov speke.
Hit ne buþ,” he said, “none Vauasers þat buþ þer on þe tour,
Ac it buþ noble bachelers of al france þay bereþ þat flour:
þar is with-inne duk Rolond on batail þat is so wyȝt,
And Olyuer wyþ þe harde hond þat Fyrumbras ouercom in fyȝt:
Thar ys Duk Berard of mondisdier on of þe beste of fraunce,
And Terry hys fader þat is wel fier a man of gret bobaunce:
In his forest þat hatte ardane muche schame ofte he deþ,
He haþ y-beo many a man ys bane & a-strongled hem with ys teþ.
þar is Oger Deneys þe hardy & Naymes wiþ þe lokkes hore,
& Richard þe Duk of Normaundy þat ofte haþ greued ous sore,
& chacede sum tyme þe Amerel in rome by-fore þe playn,
& herte him so þer on þe chel þat he was neȝ y-slayn.
And Gy of Borgoyne he is þer þat slow Corsebrayn,
And oþer þat buþ noȝt nempned her þat wolleþ ous stonde agayn.
Of þe doȝtynisse of þilke men ech man ys a-wondred,
hwych þat ys þe worste of hem of ous ys worþ an hundred.
Ro[land], Charlis suster sone he ys a noble kniȝt,
Ne douteþ he non er[þ]lich gome ne be he noȝt so wyȝt:
Muche he hermeþ þe Ameral wiþ assautes he hym makeþ.
By oure it is þai libbeþ al & maugre our teþ hit takeþ.

102

Were þer such an hundred ther as þay buþ now to fonde,
By Ma[houn] we ne derst noȝt duelle her but fle we moste of londe;
Hure god doþ euere helpe hem wel and þat we sore auynde;
Ac oure ne helpeþ ous no del þe sc[h]rewes buþ wax al blynde.
Wel y-fern þay holpe ous noȝt y trowe þai slepe vchone,
In al þe anger þat we buþ broȝt hylp on hem nys none.”

þan wax þe Amyral wroþ & sede “what! traitour ur art þou wod?
Go out of my siȝt anon y rede þow trechour, þow wykked blod!”
A strong staf tok he vp anon & smyte hem þanne he þoȝte,
Ac betwene hem wente kyng Sortybron & a-paysede hem as he moȝte.

“Sire,” said he, “let ben al þys as þou louest me;
& if þer ys oȝt spoken amys yt may amended be:
& by-þenk how þyn assaut schal gon & of þyng þat may þe vaile.
Let blowe þyn hornes, y rede anon þe tour we wollaþ a-saille:
þys frenschemen ne andurieþ ous noȝt beo we y-broȝt þer-to,
Wel dulfulliche it worþ aboȝt þe scaþes þay han ous do.”

Sone þer-after þay gunne to blowe hornes y-mad of bras:
þe Sarasyns with-inne a litel þrowe come as þykke as gras:
Wel two Mile to loke aboute a stryde voide þer nas,
þat of þat ilke heþenene route al ful was euery plas.

þe Amyral made his engyneour þe engyns to sette & bende,
þer-with to breke þe grete tour & is fon with-inne to schende.
þanne by-gunne þay to grede & houte þe Sarsynȝ sherp & wikke,
And to be-sette þe tour aboute & to schete þykke;
And he þat was engyneour stones to caste grete,
þat foule verde with þe tour so harde þay gunne him mete.
Ac þe frensche þat wiþ-inne ben defendede hem for þe nones,
& caste out among hem grete tren & wonder heuy stones;
& sloȝe of þe heþemen twenty sum tyme at ones,
þat fullen doun ded þer on þe fen to-broke boþe body & bones.

þe dameseles were boþe kynde & gode & armedem in syker wede,
And at þe kernels be hymen stode & holpe hem in þat nede;
& cast out stones gret & sade oppon hem þat wer with-oute,
& gret slauȝt of Sarȝyns made with þe help of þe lordes stoute.
þan gan Flo[rippe] þat ientail maide Gyon hure lef a-scrye;

103

“Kys me, gode lef,” þanne sche sayde “ones for al þys nuye.”
Al y-armed as þay wer þan a kuste hure as a myȝte:
“Grant mercy,” said sche, “swete lemman now am y prest to fiȝte.”

þan at þe furste þe Assaut by-gan sterk & strait to be:
þengyneor cryde to Balan “Sir Amyral, lyst to me:
Let leue al þys balaunsyng & castynge of speres & stones:
y-magened y haue a-noþer þyng to conquery þe tour at ones.
Vyfty þousand of Sarasyns felle raply to me þow diȝte,
And loke þat þay be y-armed wel & þat hy be sur & wyȝte.”
“Hit schal be don,” quaþ Balaan “anon her in þy siȝte.”
Hastely het he kyng Sortybran to arayen hem as he spiȝte.

þe Saraȝyn dude ys heste son no lengre nolde he duelle,
So many Sarsyns ches he anon & broȝte hem þyder snelle.
þe engyneour, yuele most he þeo so narwe he him by-þoȝte!
To þe castel þat was ymad of treo al þat host he broȝte;
þat haluendol þan diȝte he wiþ-inne forþ to stonde,
& þat oþer dol wyþ-oute to be to schute & caste with honde.

In þat same tre castel weren maked stages thre;
þe heȝeste hiȝt mangurel þe middel hiȝt launcepre,
þe nyþemest was callid hagefray a quynte þyng to se,
& was diȝt for ys owen aray for þer-on wolde he be.
þan þe heȝest stage of al fulde he wiþ men of armes,
To schelde hem by-nyþe wel fram stones & othere harmes.
þat wanne þe frensche þyderward caste stones oþer tre,
þay scholde with hure scheldes hard kepe þe dent aȝe;
& summe scholde schete to þe frensche rout with gunnes & boȝes of brake,
þat þay ne beo hardy to lokie out defense aȝen hem to make.
And on þat oþer stage amidde ordeynt he gunnes grete,
And oþer engyns y-hidde wilde fyr to caste & schete.
þyder þanne he putte y-nowe & tauȝte hem hure labour,
Wilde fyr to schete & þrowe aȝen þe heȝe tour.
In þe nyþemest stage þanne schup he him selue to hove,
To ordeyne hure fyr þar-inne & send hit to hem above.
To him-ward þanne tok he Saraȝyns an hun dred atte leste,
To come & go to þe engyns and seruy hem in þe beste:

104

Al þe remanant of þe numbre he ordeyneþ to schute & caste,
þe grete tour fort encumbre in þys wyse atte laste.

Now by-gynneþ þay wiþ wrake glyues to casten wykke,
And wyþ boȝes eke of brake for to schute þykke.
By-fore þat was mad a sterne schour ac þe werste was comynge,
þey schute wilde fyr to þe tour as faste as þay miȝt flynge.

On þe wal þat fur him hent wiþ-inne a lytel space,
þat he be-gan þar-wiþ be atend in an hundred place.
þat fyr þat setlede so on þe walle ȝerne hit gan to brenne;
þe peces faste gunne schaly & falle & þat fyr to renne.
Wanne þis barons loked out & sawe þe wal brennynge
Alle þay saide with-oute dout “her ys hard dwellynge,
Bote we þe raþere don ous henne & flen out of þis tour,
Sone ous tyd her for-brenne wyþ sorȝe & deshonour.”

þan saide þat maide: “leteþ of ȝour pleynt & nabbe ȝe none drede,
þys fyr wel sone schal be aqueynt ȝe schulleþ it sen in dede.”
Melk of þe camele me fette hur son a damesel broȝt it hot,
& þer-wiþ sche mellede vynegre anon no lenger sche ne abod;
þar þat fyr was setled on þe walle oueral þer-with sche spreynte,
& wel sone þar-after þay seȝe it alle how þat fyr a-queynte.

Wan þe Amyral a-perceuede þys how þat þe fyr ys fare,
Al ys hope was agon y-wys ys herte was cast in care.
“Certis, syre,” quaþ Sortybraunt “þys ys þy doȝter dede;
In þat sche may sche ys vsaunt to do þe yule to spede.”
“Wel know y,” quaþ þe Amyrel “þat ofte sche doþ me gyle,
Y hope to Mahoun þat ȝute y schel ones a-quyte hur wyle.”

“Sir,” quaþ Sortybrant, “do by my red & let þyn hornes blewe,
& hot þat þyn assaut be noȝt aled and let by-gynne hit newe.
By-hold þe places on þe toure war þat fyr haþ hente,
þer ne wanteþ noȝt enches foure þat þay ne buþ þorw brente;
Sone he falleþ me þenkeþ wel & þer-for go we þer-to.”
“As þov wile,” quaþ þe Amyrel “anon let it be do.”

With þat þe same kyng Sortybran to þe walles haþ him nome,
& þanne he hoteþ euery man to þe assaut aȝeward come.
Sone þas men miȝte y-here hornes loude blowe;

105

L. þousand Saraȝyns were y-come wyþ-inne a þrowe,
þat summe to þe engyns wente & caste stones sterke;
And summe springols stiþe bente & schute gleyues scherpe;
And summe þay schuten arwes wykke as faste as þai miȝt fle.
& þe quarels floȝe out þikke of arbelastes y-mad of tre.
Grete slabbes of styl & yre to þe walles þo wern y-slente;
þe kernels þat arst wern strong & suyre þer-with wer broke & schente,
& þe brytasqes on þe tour an heȝe dulfuly a-doun wer caste.
Wan þay with-inne hit perceuede & seȝe dedlich þai were agaste.

þan saiden hy þus lordes alle “her ys noȝt god to abide,
þys tour is now in poynt to falle wyþ-inne a litel tide.”
Floripe þat mayde fair and hende to þys barouns sede:
“Ne drede ȝe noȝt, myn leue frende ȝe ne schulleþ haue no nade;
My fader let make þis ilke tour strong ynow to kepe;
To putte þar-inne hys tresour þat he wold leyn to hepe.
On þys tour ys more gold y wot riȝt wel to wisse,
þan half þe kynges han in wold þat buþ in al heþenisse.
þoȝw þys asaut wolde y-laste þys forty dawes ryȝt,
her with-inne ys gold y-maced faste to cast out day & nyȝt;
And suþþe ȝe now þat soþe y-knoweþ on defaute ȝe han of stones,
Takeþ þer-of ynowe and þroweþ & to-brekeþ hem body & bones.”

“ȝea, faire þe falle, my wete wyȝt” to hure Ro[land] saide.
Gyoun wente to hure ful ryȝt & swetly kuste þat maide:
þanne sche lad þaym by þe hond þar þat tresour lay,
& þanne saide duk Rolond “her ys a ryche aray.”
þay toke op slabbes grete & þykke of þe gold þat þar lys,
And caste among þe Sarsyns wykke ne sparede þay noȝt þat prys;
Many was þe Saraȝyn prout þat þar-with was affulled,
þe oþere drowen hem ferþer out for drede þat þay nere kulled.

Wanne þe Sarasynȝ had aperceued ariȝt þat gold þat briȝte schon,
To gadrie þat gold þay dude hure miȝt & leued þe assaut anon:
On þe gadryngge þat þay made þan þay by-gunne to fiȝte
And ȝyue eche oþer strokes sade wyþ axes & swerdes briȝte.
Ech on oþer gan to hewen & euerech other afulde,
Mo þan a þousent of þe schrewen wel sone þer were y-kulde.

106

Wan þe Amyral þat y-seȝ on ys herte him gan to greue;
To ys barons he cryede an heȝ & het hem þe assaut be-leue:
“And ellis schal her al my gold & my tresour beo for-lore,
þat y haue gadred in-to þat hold long tyme her by-fore.”
þan wende þe grete to wiþ þat among þe communes alle,
And made hem cessen of hure debat and fro þe asseege falle.
þe sunne by þat was neȝ a-doun þe Assege þanne þay y-lafte.
þe Amerel goþ to ys pauylloun al murghe was him by-rafte.

Now ys þe Amyral aȝen y-wend wyþ ys baronye;
With sorwe was is herte be-trend wiþ care & eke anuye.
And þe barons of honour murye gunne hem make,
And ete & dronke on þe tour of þe vytailles þay han y-take;
For of vitailes þai hadden þo plentee & burdes briȝte & bolde,
To ete & drynke & murie bee & to layky hem wan þay wolde.

At a wyndowe as Ro[land] lay lynynge & lokede out,
þan Ameral atte is soper he of-say sittynge vnder shrout.
Wanne he haþ aperceuede apertely þan Amerel & his aray,
To hem he clepede ys company & þus he gan to say:
“Lordes, be-holdeþ þan Amerel ȝounder out on þe grene,
At is soper ys he me semeþ wel it doþ myn herte tene.
Hit were me þynkþ a fair viage to letten him of his purpos.”
þan saide þe other barnage “fonde we to greue our fos.”

Sone were þys noble barouns y-armed in sykere wedis,
& as fers as any lyouns þay sterte vp-on hure stedis.
þe damesels duden vp þe ȝeate & þe draȝtbrigge lete adoun,
And þay fareþ out þer-ate stoutelich ech baroun.
Balan hymen aperceyueþ anan as þai come on a mede;
Of þe siȝte agrise he gan and wax neȝ wod for drede.
Aspayllard of nubbye clepede he þan & þus til him he sede:
“Do Cosyn anon þyn Armys aan & aray þe in syker wede.
Lo whar þay comeþ stout & bold þe frensche men of þe tour;
þay þenkeþ make our soper cold þai casteþ hem to þat labour.”
“Al redy, sire,” Aspaylard sede and armede hym þanne anon,
And sone haþ he take ys stede & smertly he was oppon:
Ys scheld he takeþ in þat nede launce ne kepede he non,

107

A dart takþ he in his hond for drede & forþ he ys a-gon.

Roland was þe furste of alle þat rod afforeward,
þe Sarsyn þoȝte him for to quelle & launceþ til him þe dart;
þe dart was cast with such a mod þat þorw ys scheld it schet,
Ac ys haberke was fyn & god & ellis he had be ded.
Ro[land] brak þe schaft away & smertliche to hym arod,
And þoȝte him smyte on þe hed an hey ac þe dent a glod;
On ys stede ful þe dent by-side þe for arsoun,
þorw þe necke þat swerd him went & þe Sarsyn ful adoun.

þe Sarsyn was doȝty ynow sone he vp aros,
& hasteliche ys swerd adrow and aȝe til him a gos.
To han i-broched Ro[land] þorw a-caste þo his porpos,
Ac Ro[land] þanne til hym a-bowȝ & fuld him on is armes clos.
Wan he had him on is armes lauȝt wiþ-oute more a-do
Vp a draweþ at o drauȝt & set him by-for him þo.

Roland tornd hym þanne aȝeyn & ys felawe dude al-so,
Toward þe tour al on þe pleyn as harde as þe hors may go.
Wan þe Amyral þys of-seȝ his herte was cast in care,
To is baronage he criede an heȝ & prayede hymen after fare:
“If my neuewe goþ þus a-way by Mahoun ȝe buþ to blame;
Helpeþ þer-for now wat ȝe may þat y ne take no schame.”
Op a-sterte þe route anon & hure stedes þai be-strydeþ,
And as faste as þe hors may gon after hem þay rydeþ.

Ac wan þe frensche baronage y-saw hem after haste,
þey turnde to hemen wiþ sturne vysage & adrowe hure swerdes faste:
& with hure fon þan þay fouȝte & ȝeue hem strokes sare.
þilke companye þo ful dere aboȝte þat þay come þare;
Mo þan .v. hundred þar þay sloȝe of þat foule maynee,
& þe remanant hem wiþ-droȝe & for drede tornde aȝee.
þus barons toke þan way ful riȝt aȝenward to þe tour;
Ate ȝeate fond hy þat burde briȝt þat let hem in wyþ honour:
þe ȝeate þanne þay made faste þe draȝtbrigge vp droȝ sche.
þe Saraȝyns þay habbeþ sore agaste & þay buþ in sauete.

108

Now buþ þus barouns of honour y-come aȝen in-to þe tour;
Flo[rippe] þay gunne calle,
To hure þay by-toke Aspayllarde, And prayede hure kep him in syker warde
For þyng þat miȝt be-falle.
To þe soper þan wente þay alle þen, þe lordes, & eke þe ientail wymen,
And made hem murie þat niȝt.
A-morwe wanne þe sonne hure schon, To-gadre þay assemblede hem euerechon,
Lordes and burdes briȝt.

þanne spak Richard of Normaundy To þe barons þat stode hym by:
“Herknyaþ for ȝour honour;
Wel ȝe wyteþ we buþ her enclos, Hard by-seged wyþ our foes,
& wyth strengþe & gret vygour.”
of o þyng lordes beo ous sure, Her mowe we noȝt longe dure,
Bot ous come socour.
Sende we þer-for to þe Emperer, þat he come with his power
& delyuery ous of þe tour.”

Naymes ansuerede in his avys: “Hit nere bote folye, be seynt Dynys,
A Messager til him to schape,
For al þe contre wyþ-outen lys So ful by-gon wyþ enymys,
þat non ne schold hem scape.
þer nys non her ich vndertake, þat þilke Message ne wil for-sake
þat of ys lyf ys fayne,
& ho-so nolde a dude folye; For neuere we ne scholde him sen wiþ ye
Til ous come aȝayne.”

Til hymen þanne þat mayde sede: “Of ȝour enymys haue ȝe no drede,
þys tour ys strong & god;
And ȝe han her boþ day & nyȝt, Fiftene damesels fayr & briȝt,
And comen of kynges blod;
Euerech of ȝow chuse his owe, And lyue we our lyf on murȝe aþrowe,
Wyle we buþ her enclos.”
þanne saide Roland to þat fry: “Damesele, þow spekest ful cortesly,
Maugree habbe alle our fos!”

109

Roland of hure gan asky þan, Of wat kynde was comen þat ilke man
þat on hure warde was,
Wham þay toke þe niȝt before & wat done (?) man þat a wore,
To telle hym þat cas.

“Sire,” quaþ sche, “y wil þe telle: Neȝ sibbe is he to þe Amyrelle,
Ys soster sone he ys;
ȝif ȝe my fader willeþ greue ariȝt, Al to-heweþ hym on ys siȝt,
& þan lest he ys blys.”

“Nay, noȝt so” þan saide Naymoun, “So ne schal it noȝt be don,
no profyt to ous it nere:
He schal be kept, by swete iesous, For to a-quytye on of ous,
If he wer take there.”

þanne sayde þe duk Terry: “To ligge þus her ys gret anuy,
& be-seged as we bene;
Sende we þer-for, ich ȝow rede, To Charlis ase Rychard sede,
To help ous out of þis tene.”

þanne sayde Ogier þe Deneys: “Hit nys bote trufle þat þou seys,
So god me mote auaunce,
For among ous alle her ys non, þat in þat message now darste gon
for al þat gold of fraunce.”

“ȝus,” quaþ Roland, “y wil it do, If ȝe rewardieþ it shel be so,
& take my way or none.
Y nel spare for no fere þat y ne schal þat erant bere
& make hym come sone.”

þan spak Naymes and sayde, “nay, Certis, syre, þov noȝt ne may
Gon out of oure ferede:
And þe Saraȝynȝ wern y-ware þat þov were fro henne afare
þey wolde ous noȝt adrede.”

þanne saide þe Scot Gwylmer: “y wolde fayn, by seynt Rycheer,
Wende on þat vyage.”
“Nay,” quaþ Berard, “verement, But leteþ me fare be ȝour assent,
& do þat ylke message.”

þanne hymen bad þe duk Gyoun þat he moste wende to Charloun
And beo hure messagere.
Flo[rippe] aunswerede þar-to anon, “nay leteþ anoþer þat message don,

110

For he schal leue here.”

And þan spak Richard of Normandie, & sayde þus to þe companye:
“Sirs, ȝe knoweþ wel
þat y am sumdel stryken on age, And haue a sone of my parage
þat is boþe wys & fel:
þoȝ þe Saraȝynȝ smyte of myn hed, He ys myn ayr after my ded
To broke myn heritage.
& þerfor yf ȝe assentiaþ to, At al perils wil y go
To Charlis in ȝour message.

þer ys al-so anoþer thyng War-for y scholde do þis doyng
By-fore a-nother man:
þe furste tyme þat Charlys kyng Made me to hymward beo leuyng,
Charlys be-het me þan,
þat if me happede þorw any cas þat y wer prisoned in any plas,
wyle ich wyþ him were,
A sholde delyuery me out of prisoun Wyþ strenghþe of hand ouþer raunsoun,
Coste hit noȝt so dere.
And therfor am y bold ynow, By þis two skyles þat y say ȝow,
To faren on ȝoure message:
For þoȝ y be taken he schel me ȝelde, And eke my sone ys neȝ of Elde
To fonge myn herytage.”

Of Richardis skyles þay toke reward, & alle þanne assentede at nessche & hard,
þat Richard scholde wende,
Suþþe he hadde desyr þer-to; No man betere miȝte it do,
for he was triwe & hende.
To him þanne saide Duk Roland: “Suþþen þow wilt þus take an hand,
þyn oþ þov schalt ous make,
þat þou ne schalt spare nyȝt ne day Til þov ha don þy iornay,
Bot þov be ded or take.”

Richard hit graunteþ with-oute let, And sone þe relyqes wern y-fet,
& Ri[chard] swer his oþ.
þan þay be-speken how he myȝt Sleȝlych a-scape out of þe syȝt,
þat þe Sarsyns ne dud him loþ.

Richard hym-self sayde þan: “þe beste red ys þat y can,
þat we be on armes diȝte,

111

& to-morȝe on þe spryng of þe day Euene to þe pauyllouns take þe way
As we wolde fiȝte,
& wanne we comeþ among hem þare, ȝee scholleþ ȝeue hem strokes sare,
& sodeynlych falle hem on.
þe wyle þay entendiaþ to ȝowward Y schal take out to anoþer pard
& prykie fro hem anon:
And þe wile ȝe fiȝteþ with þat host y schal ben a-passed al þat cost,
& al out of hure siȝte;
& þan schal y holde my iornee, þe wayes y knowe of þe contre,
boþe be day and niȝte.
And so þat god me graunty grace, þe brigge of Mantrible saf to pace,
Wher-of ys most my drede,
þan schulle ȝe be wel certayn þat y schel brynge ȝov Charlemayn,
To socurry ȝow on þys nede.”

For pyte þan wepte ȝong & olde, þe wyle þat Ric[hard] ys tale tolde,
of hem þay wern wel fayne.
To ihesu crist þay gunne to praye Scholde sped hym wel on his iornaye,
An send him saf aȝayne.
þan Ri[chard] araid hem al þat day, On þe morȝenyng to wende is way,
Wanne þe day hym sprunge.

Duk Roland & Erld Olyuer, þilke niȝt kepte þe wacche þer
Til þe larke sunge.
By þat wern þay alle y-dyȝt, And wel araid in armis briȝt,
To horce þan wente þay bolde.
Bot wan þay wiste how it stod, Clene þanne þay turnde hure mod,
hure purpos þay myȝt noȝt holde.
For þe Amyral was y-come with-oute And had be-set þe brigge aboute
With strengþe and with gynne;
And had ordeynt him þer to lyn Wiþ .xxxti. þousant of Saraȝyn
To holde hymen þo with-inne.

Wan þay knewe al þat cas, Sory ynow hure euerech was,
þan nyste þay wat do more;
Bote stablede hure stedes vp aȝeyn, And in-to þe paleys þan tornde ageyn
& kepte hem-selue þore.

112

þanne dude þus barouns of honour Holde hem so wyþ-inne þe tour,
Y-armed as þai were.
Viij. wykes boþe nyȝt & day þat host by-fore þe ȝeate lay,
& kept hem with-inne þere.

þan fel þar-after as it be scholde, Oppon a fair day þat þe A[myral] wolde
To þe ryuer an haukyng fare;
He takeþ wiþ him his grete barouns, þat host he lefte ate pauyllouns
þe assege to kepe thare.
He made him murie al þilke day, For vilentyne he fond ynow & play
On ryuer and on lake.
To ys host a droȝ hym aȝen þe nyȝt, Glad in herte, & murye, and lyȝt,
for þe game he haþ y-take.
þat nyȝt as it ful by cas, þe brigge-warde for-ȝete was,
þorw murȝþe of ys play.
þys barons were ful sone i-diȝt, & out ate ȝeate þey rydeþ ryȝt,
In þe sprynggyng of þe day;
By þat þe Amyrel was aryse, And cryede faste to alle hyse,
þat þay scholde hem diȝte,
& let hem spede for his honour, & go to þe briggewarde of þe tour
þat was for-ȝyte þat niȝte.

Sone þer-after with-inne a þrowe, þe Saraȝyns by-gunne hornes blowe,
& dude on hur armes faste;
Ac er þay wern oȝt helf y-dyȝt, þus barons come oppon hem ryȝt,
& hymen ascryede an haste.
On hymen þay gunne to falle anon, And delte strokes ful god won,
Wyþ swerdes sherpe ygronde.
Wel iij. hundred þay habbeþ a-slawe, & y-broȝt of lyues dawe
of sarsyns wyþ-inne a stonde.

Sone þar come aȝen hem route xxx. þousant of Sarasyns proute,
Araid þo for to fiȝte.
þe frensche þanne hem droȝe apart, And made a bekenynge to Richard,
To take ys way forþ riȝte.

Ri[chard] tok leue & rod a-way. Now god him helpe þat best may!
þay by-tok him god almyȝte.
& sone þer-after þay gunne with-draȝe, Lytel & lytel as þay mawe

113

Of Rychard haue a siȝte.
þe Sarȝyns comeþ after repe, Al so harde as þay mowe lepe,
To slen hem þey wolde be fayn.
Ac a litel by-fore þe castel ȝeate, Wel neȝ þe brigge þat lay þer-ate,
þys lordes tornde aȝayn;
& þan þay by-gunne aȝen hem fiȝte, With sherpe swerdes y-bornsched briȝte,
& mad hem many a wonde,
& layde hem an. boþe bak & syde, & with strengþe of strokes þat wer ounride
þay slowe hem doun to gronde.
þar hadde þe Saraȝyns yule grace, For of dede men lay fuld þe place,
& þoþre by-gunne to fle.
þan were þe ȝeates y-opened wyde, þe frensche men hadde þe betre syde,
& tornd hem to þe tour aȝe.
þe ȝeates schutte Duk Naymoun, & Ogier let þe brigge adoun;
& wan al was faste y-sperde,
An heȝ þan wente þus barouns stout, And at þe wyndowe loked out
By Richard how it ferde.

þan seȝen alle þys barouns þat he was passed þe pauyllons,
By a fer contraye.
ȝerne þan prayed hy to god Al on, þat day to kepe him fram ys fon
& spede hym in is waye.

Wan Ri[chard] was so fer a-past, þan was he noþyng agast
Of þat host be-hynde,
Ac sone þer-after, as y schal rede, Sykerly wende he to han be dede,
nad he non oþer mynde.

Richard prykede forþ an haste, Ase harde as he may þraste,
nowar he ne abideþ;
Bot euere he prykeþ on ys way, Ne spareþ he mounteyne ne valay,
Bot prykyng forþ he rydeþ.

As he was prykyng ouer an hul A wykked cas þer him byful,
ys sted wax al ateynte:
Wan þe duk y-saw þat cas, A wrong his handes & said, “alas!”
& to god he made is pleynte.
“Ihesu lord,” þan saide he, “þat syttest on þy maieste,
And seest boþe fer & hende;

114

Saue me ȝif þy wille be, þat no Saraȝyn haue poste
þys day me to schende.
As wys as y noþyng her ne craue, Bote fayne y wolde my felawe saue,
After our commun deuys.
As y am to hem treuþe ypliȝt Char[les] to brynge þider riȝt,
To distruye þyn enymys.”
Wyþ ys riȝt hond a blessid him þan, And prykeþ ys stede & forþ he nam
Agayn þe hulle an heȝe.
By þat þe Sonne hure briȝte schon, & Richard was noȝt so ferred ys fon,
þat hy hym þo ne seȝe.

Bruyllant, þe kyng of mountmyrre, Toward þe montaynes lokede he,
& aparceuede hym sone þas.
To kyng Claryoun þat stod him by, hwych was þe Amerel ys cosyn ny,
þanne he tolde þat cas:
“Sire,” said he, “be seynt Mahoun, ȝonder out rydeþ a bold baroun;
To Char[les] he ys y-sent
by þys maufesours of þe tour hem to fette to hure socour,
þar for ys he went.”

Wanne þe kyng hym vnderstod, His herte wax angry & ful of mod,
& was ful heghe y-pyȝt:
His armes he askede anon with cry, & hy were broȝt wel hastely,
& sone þan was he dyȝt:
& þan him was broȝt ys gode stede, þe beste fole þan man miȝt fede,
& sone he him be-strod;
On hym miȝt he on somers day Prikea an hundred myle of way,
Rennyng euery fot.
Ys scheld þan heng he aboute ys swyre, And forþ he prykede with gret yre
After duk Rychard.
After hym folwede & schoke bost xxxti þowsant on an host,
y-Armed with scherp & hard.
God of heuene Rychard kepe! After him prykeþ al þe hepe,
To slen him þay han hem tyȝt.
Ac þe kyng hem passede with-inne a wyle, Forn hem þe mountance of two myle,
So heȝe is herte was piȝt.

Ri[chard] forthward prikede vaste Al the wyle þat hors miȝt laste,
Ne spareþ he him no þyng.

115

Ac a torndem with-inne a tyde, And þanne y-saw he. war com ride
Claryoun þe sturne kyng,
& fer after hym þe grete route þat helede þe contre al aboute,
So huge was þat meygny.
Ac þe. A[merel] cosyn, Clarioun þe kyng, Comeþ by-fore faste brochyng,
On ys stede of Araby.
Of quente entaile was is stede, Al y-fracled wyþ whit & rede,
ys tayl was blak so cole;
ne saw he neuere be-fore þat day Hert ne hare so renne a-way,
So dude þat iantail fole.
þe sadel þat þo was him oppon With gold was fret & pretious ston,
& þe harneys was of golde.
Brydel & paytrel & al þe gere Wiþ fyn gold y-harneysed were,
Purtreyd riȝt ase he wolde.

þe Sarasyn þat opon him set After Richard prikede ket,
Sittynge on þat stede;
þat hors was swyft & ran awaye, and faste gan neye and loude braye,
Al-gate ase a ȝede:
And noȝt for þat a goþ so fast þat Richard ys a-take ate last,
& þe kyng him gan ascrye,
And saide—“abid & torn to me, Ferþer-more schalt þou noȝt fle,
her riȝt schalt þov dye.
What wendest þou, false feloun, Bere þy message to Charloun,
Socour of hym to hane?
y make auow to seynt Mahoun, þou bryngest neuer eft til him resoun,
Me self schal be þy bane.”

Wan Richard þe Saraȝyn vnderstod, þorw-out ys body sturede ys blod,
& to him gan he saye:
“y praye þe, Sire, chaunge thy mod, y ne dude þe neuere herm ne god,
let me noȝt of my waye.
Lef now, syre, as þow art free, And let me han non harm of þe,
& eft it schel be ȝolde.”
“By Mahoun,” saide þe kyng aȝee, “y nolde þe lete lyues bee
for a þousend pound of golde.”
A rideþ to Richard wyþ a spere, & þynkeþ him þorȝ þat body bere,
& on þe scheld hym smot;

116

þorȝ-out ys scheld & is habreioun, Plates, & iakke & ioupoun,
þorȝ-out al it ȝot.
By-Twene ys scherte & is syde Passeþ þe dent of þat sper oun-ryde,
Of ys skyn a litel hit nam.
Richard gan grope to þat gerse, And wan he felede hit was no werse,
god he þankede þan.

Ac wan þe duk y-seȝ ys blod, Egre he wax & heȝ of mod,
& til þe kyng a wond,
& smot hym on þe helm above, & þoȝt is hed han to-clove
Wyþ ys gode brond;
Ac þe helm was so hard y-wroȝt, þat he miȝt entamy him noȝt,
Wyþ no dynt of swerde.
Ac wan Ric[h]ard þat vnderstent, Sone aȝaf hym anoþer dent,
And on þe nekke him gurde,
And smot hem þan with such an yre, þat helm & heued wyþ al þe atyre
In-to þe feld it fleȝ.
þat body a putte a-doun god spede, & lefte his hors and tok þat stede,
& lepeþ on him an heȝ.

Now ne dar he noþyng drede Of þat hyndere falurede,
þat comeþ after gon;
for conquered he haueþ a stede, Ne saw he neuere no such at nede,
To saue him fram ys fon.
þan lokede he on hym þat was hys, For þat stede ful wo hym ys,
and saide þanne on is speche:
“now Haue gode. my gode morel, On many a stour þou hast seruid me wel,
Crist ich þe by-teche!
And god ȝut, if þy wille beo, Send me grace þat y mote þe seo,
On crysten mannes welde.”
With þat he prykeþ forþ on ys way, & þat host compþ after with gret effray,
To encombry hem on þe felde.

Ac as þes Sarsyns prykede faste þay founde hure lord þar ate laste;
His hed lay on a forwe,
ys body was tornd ouer-thwart þe way, Fro þat heued ten vet fram hyt lay;
þan made þay muche sorwe.
Wan þay seȝen hym so by-stad Alle þay waxen sore of-drad,
An[d] gunne him sore be-mene.

117

Ferrer ne draste þay noȝt for fere, Bote a-liȝte & wronge hure handes þere,
And saide, “alas!” for tene.
“Alas,” þay sayde, “why wolde he so Hym-self allone þus fonde ys fo,
With-oute ous þat with hym were?”
Richardis stede þanne þay saye Rennyngge a-streyey þar on þe waye,
To take him þan þoȝte þay þere.

þan þay be-trappede hym alle aboute, Ac for non hem with-oute doute
ne wil he noȝt be cauȝte:
Wan any of hem þat hors cam neȝ, A caste be-hynde & arered an heȝ,
And fulde al þat a rauȝte.
Fyfty stedes a-doun a fulde, & ten þer-of to deþe a kulde,
On þat same out-rage.
þe stede þan tornde him as he cam To þe tour of Egrymoygne þan way a nam,
Maugre hure vysage.

Wanne a cam þe pauylons neȝ, þe Amyrel wel sone him of-seȝ,
& sayde þan on his sawe,
& swer til hem þat stode him by, þat Clarioun his cosyn sykerly
þe messager had a-slawe:
“Wel certeyn am y þar-of,” he sede, “Lo! whar ȝond comeþ ys stede;
Let take hym ich ȝow praye.”
þanne Sarsyns runne aboute him faste, Ac wan þay seȝe how he gan caste,
þay let hym gon ys waye;
þorw-out þat host þe stede him ran Al riȝt to þe tour þat he com fram,
& at þe ȝeate a stente.
þe lordes þat on þe toure were Wan þay seȝe hym þay hadden fere,
& sone a-doun þay wente:
þe brigge was sone y-lete adoun, þe ȝate openede duk Neymoun,
Ogier tok in þe stede.
& wan þay had mad fast aboute & y-stablyd þe stede, þan al þe route
Sore þay gunne hem drede,
For ech of hem wende on is part þe Sarsyns had sleyn duk Richart.
þey swere by Peter & paule
þat by hys stede þay knewe þat cas, Warfor þay prayde god kyng of gras
haue mercy of is saule.

Wan þat Flo[rippe] y-saw hem wepe, Gy, hure lemman, & al þe hepe,

118

In herte hur gan to greue.
of wepyng ne miȝt sche abstene hur noȝt, Til euerech fayre sche þan by-soȝt,
þat nycete for to leue:
“Lordes,” sche saide, “leueþ al þys, Ther is non of ȝow þat wot to wys.
Wather he ys quyke or ded.
þer-for leteþ al ȝour mornynge For ȝe hyre betere tydyng,
& þer-to y leye myn hed.”

þus Floripe, þat mayde of gret honour, Confortede þe barouns on þe tour
With hure wordes gode:
Hure wordes lekedem euerchon, & fro þanne þay buþ an-heȝ agon
& to a wyndowe þan þay ȝeode;

As þay were thar & loked out, þay sawe þanne come at o rout
þe Sarsyns faste ride,
þat hadde y-chaced Richard doun, Wan he aslow kyng Claryoun,
þat was so ful of pryde.
þat body þay broȝte among hem þo, & Sarȝyns wente to & fro,
And made a wonder deel.
þat body forþ þai bryngeþ so, & euene to þe pauyllouns þay gunne go,
& meteþ with þe Amyrel.

“What how now,” saide he þan, “Haþ Clarioun my cosyn aslawe þe man?
þe messager ys he ded?”
“Nay,” quaþ on, “þe deuel him drawe, For he haþ my lord a-slawe,
lo, her ys body and hed!”
Wan þe Amyral hym ded y-seȝ, Sorwe ȝede ys herte neȝ,
& angry ynow he was:
Four sithes he ful a-doun y-sowe, & oþre dules made ynowe,
& ofte cryede, “Alas!”
“Alas,” said he, “my cosyn dere, Al my confort for-soþ þow were,
Wo ys me for þy sake!
For þow were euere god & kende, Y praye to Mahoun, as he ys hende,
þat he þy saule take.”
þe Saraȝyns þat þanne aboute hym were A gret dul þay made there,
For þat kyngis deþ.

119

þan stode þus barouns of honour, & lokede þyderward out of þe tour,
& al þys hyreþ & seeþ.

Rolond askede þan ful riȝt, Of þat burde fair & briȝt,
Yf sche couþe hym telle,
Whar-for was mad þat gret mornyng Amonges þe Saraȝyns olde & ȝyng,
As hy þar herden alle.

Florippe ansuerede & sayde, “ȝys, Y can ȝow sayn wel why it ys,
war-for y am wel fawe:
Certys al ys for Clarioun kyng, þat was my fadres owe derlyng,
þat Rychard haueþ a-slawe.
He was a noble werreour, Of al heþenisse was he flour,
Me nyste nowar ys pere.
Certis now waxeþ ȝour honour, He was my fadres beste socour,
& ys cosyn dere.

Whar-for now buþ alle glad, Ri[chard] ys lyues, buþ noȝt a-drad,
And haþ y-don þys dede;
Conquerid haþ he of kyng Claryoun, An hors þat is worþ many a toun,
No-war nys such a stede.”
Wanne sche haueþ hure tale y-tolde, þan gunne þaye alle waxe bolde,
þat wern þo on þe tour.
Olyuer sayde to þe company: “Now mowe we beo þe more hardy
To byden her socour.”
And alle þan þankede god almyȝt, þat Rychard was þat day so wyȝt,
þat doȝty kyng to slee,
And prayede god, þe heȝe iustys, Scholde scheld him fram ys enymys,
& send hym saf Aȝee.

Rychard hym prykeþ on ys way, Ne spareþ he hulle ne valay,
Bot al-way ryȝd prikyng.
Conquered had he such a stede, þat of ys trauayl ne doþ he drede
How fer a-go rennyng.
þe Ameral þanne ful angry was, He clepede til hym Malyngryas,
þat was ys Messager,
And saide to hym, “beo wys & snel, And tak þe dromodarye þat goþ wel,
& grayþe þe on þy ger;
To Mantrible anon most þou fare, Quikly loke þat þou be þare,
As swyþe as he may gon.

120

þyn spores loke þat þou ne spare, þe dromedary ys swifter þan þe hare,
He bryngeþ þe þar anon.
& go to Agolafre, þe Briggeward, And aske of hym on my part,
Why he dude so ille,
To lete passye þe Messagers þat holdeþ my tour & my doȝtre fers,
Al agayn my wille.
If y may lyue, by myn heued, Hym schel beo betre han y-leued,
for þat was folye gret.
Tel hym al-so al þat cas Of Clarioun þat my neuewe was,
In wat manere he is ded,
& how A Messager haþ hym slayn þat wendeþ to fecche Charlemayn,
if he may pasye there;
& ys y-sent by þus glotouns Charlis to fecche & his barouns,
To schende ous alle here.
For if he þe Messager leteþ pace, Charlis wol me of londe chace,
& brynge ous alle ful lowe.
Thar-for say him þat he be-war, And lete noman pacye thar,
bote if he be knowe.
And if þar comeþ any ounknowed man, Sone þat he ben take þan,
& hyder to me y-send.
Say hym on payne of ys heued, þat þys þyng beo noȝt be-leued,
As he ne wil be y-schend.”

“Syre,” sayde þe Messager, “Sone certis y wil be ther,
& speke wiþ agolofre,
& ȝour erand to hym abeode: Ac ride wil y noȝt in thys neode,
y þank ȝow of ȝour profre.
To renne an .C. myle on my fete, Ne schal noman y-se me swete,
On hulle ne in valay.

121

Or þe dromedarye scholde be diȝt, Y schal gon on my fote ryȝt,
Wel neȝ half þe way.”

þe Messager ys sone forþ afare, & renneþ swyfter þan þe hare;
Rychard he haþ of-take.
Malyngryas him drow a-part, & þus ascryede þar duk Richard,
“þow schelt noȝt ous a-scape.”
& forþ he renneþ al so swyft, As foul þat fleþ on þe lift,
Mantrib[l]e til he cam to.
& þan to þe brigge tok he ys pas, Straȝt to þe brigge-ward þar a was,
On þe brigge stondynge þo.

Wanne he afforn him was y-come, Ys erande abed he al & some,
Riȝt as y schal ȝow saye.
“þe Ameral me hauaþ to þe y-sent, To wyte what was þyn entent
To don hym such affraye,
þe messagers for to leten þe brigge pace, þat Charlys sente by manace,
Hyderward hym to scaþe;
þat han with strengthe conquerd is tour, And holdeþ ys doȝtere wiþ deshonour,
& hermyeþ hem late & rathe.

And now compþ on of hem prykyng, Fram þe othre y-sent to Charlis kyng,
& ys by-stole awaye.
By Mahoun, pautener, þe tyd abigge, For þay passede so þe brigge:
He sent þe so to saye.
For Clarioun þe kyng he haueþ a-slawe And y-take ys stede aȝen þe lawe,
hys better nys nowar non.
Toward Charl[es] wolde he wende, And bryng hym hider my lord to schende,
And to distruye ous ecchon.
Wharfor þe Amerel ys wonder wroþ, & by Ma[houn] haþ sworn ys oþ,
& þow him lete pace,
Whar þov beo founde, fer or neȝ, þat þow schalt be an-honged heȝ,
þe tyȝd non oþer grace.”

Wan Agolafre haþ herd hym speke, Forangre þat hene drast him wreke,
A skuntede als a bore:—

122

“Go out of my siȝt,” to him he sede, “How dost þow, harlot, þyn erand bede?
& seo þou me no more.
By Mahoun, my lord, þat sit in trone, Bute þou þe rathere ben agone,
Myn axe þou schalt y-knowe.”
Agolafre sone þo tok an horn, & quiklich in-to a tour he orn
& loude þan gan he blowe.
By þat he hauede y-blowe a blaste, On þe toun þay bute tabours faste,
& made noyse horryble.
To armes Sarsyns runne an haste, & xx. þousant sone þer paste
of þe Citee of Mantrible.

þe draȝtbrigge was wel sone arered, Many a Sarȝyn þar was a-stered,
þat Ry[chard] wente aȝene.
Now god of heuene helpe Rychard! þar mot he pace þorw þe hard,
for he not wyder flene.
As Ri[chard] hym comeþ on an hulle an-heȝ, þat host of Sarasyns he of-seȝ,
Houynge on a mede,
In armes briȝte & sykere wedes, Sittynge vcchone on faire stedes,
& þan hym gan a-drede.
“Lord,” he saide, “for þy god-hed, What ys now my beste red?
of blisse y am al bare:
If y come among þys fered, Wel y wot y lese myn hed;
Wyder-ward may y fare?
And if y me take to þe ryuer ward þe strem ys so stil & hard,
þat þer me tyd adrenche:
& if y to þe tour now torne agayn, þe saraȝyns me wolleþ sle certayn,
y not now wyder blenche.
Ihesu, my lord ful of myȝt, þat al þyng canst boþe dele & diȝt,
pyte of me þou haue!
Al þat þou dudest on me make, In-to þyn hondes ich her by-take
Fram combryment þou me saue!”

123

þan tornde him Richard al so hot, Toward þe Ryuer þat hiȝt Flagot,
& þyderward prikeþ faste.
þe Saraȝynȝ of hym hadde siȝt, And ryde after as foul on fliȝt,
to taken hym þay þoȝt an haste.
Ac furst and afforeward alle Prykede a cosyn of þe Amyralle,
Me calde Mandysee;
Hys hors was lyȝt & faste ȝed, And bar a sterre on his for-hed,
A noble sted was hee.

þe Sarsyn þat was ryche & prout, By-fore alle othere he prykeþ out,
& haueþ of take Richard,
& het hym abide & gan to crye, “Claryoun ys deþ þov schalt abye,
Torn to me coward.”
Richard tornde til hym anon, & adrow ys swerd, þat briȝte schon,
& gurde him on þe heued;
Such a strok þat dupe wod, þorw-out helm, heued & hod,
Al he haþ for-cleued.
þe Sarsyn sone ful doun ded, & Ryc[hard] By þe rayne tok þat sted,
To haue him was hym lef.
Til þe ryuer prikede Richarde, And þe Sarȝyns come prykynge after harde,
Cryynge—“tak þe þef!”

Now y-come ys he to þe ryuere, By-syde a treo & a stod him þere,
þat water to by-holde,
& saw þe ryuer was dup & brod, And ran a-way as he were wod,
ys herte gan waxe colde.

Richard tok herte & þenche gan, þat nedelich a most entrye þan
In & passe þat ryuere,
Ouþer he moste turn aȝee, And fiȝte agayn al þat maygne,
þat after him come there.
To ihesu þanne he bad a bone:—“Lord, þat madest sunne, mone,
Lond & water cler,
Kep me þys day fram my fone, & if y þys ryuer potte me one,
þat y ne a-drenche her:
& such grace þow me sende, þat y may saf to Charlis wende,
& telle hym my porpos,

124

So þat he may come wyþ socour, And delyuery ys barons of honour,
þat liggeþ among þy fos.”

Nad he noȝt þat word ful speke, Er þat þar cam an hert forþ reke,
As wyt ase melkys fom.
Ryȝt euene by-fore duk Rychard þat best hym wente to watre-ward,
& fayre by-fore hym swom.
Wanne þe duk þat wonder y-seȝ, & þe sarsyns þat þo wer come wel neȝ,
With bost & noyse gret,
Wyþ is riȝt hond þan blessede he hym, And þoȝ þe ryuere were styf & grym,
Wyþ boþe hors in a schet;
Ys stede was an hors of prys, & bar þe kniȝt at al dyuys,
Swymmynge with ys felawe.
þe hert þat was so fair of siȝt Ouer þe Ryuer swam ful riȝt,
& Ry[chard] doþ after-drawe.

Ys fon hym folȝede to þe water cler, Ac wan þay come to þe dupe Ryuer,
þat wilde was & thro,
Entrye þanne ne darst hy noȝt, For þe ryuer him ran so toȝt;
Sory men were þay þo.
To þe Citee þanne þey prikede aȝeyn, & fyndeþ mandisee þat was a-sleyn,
As ȝe hurde of are.
þat body þay lefte stille ligge, & prykede ȝerne ouer þe brigge,
To mete with Ry[chard] þare.

Agolafre wax wonder wroþ, To þe drauȝtbrigge before he goþ,
& quyclich let hur doun:
“Barouns,” quaþ he, “now prikeaþ faste, þe Messager þat ȝe hadde an haste,
& sleþ þat foul feloun.”
þan miȝte men many Sarsynȝ seen Ouer þe brigge an-horce fleen,
prikyng as þay wer wod;
By þat was Richard þe ryuer past, And prykeþ hym fram ys fon an hast,
As ys nede by-stod.
Nad he noȝt priked of þat contray, Fro þe ryuere a myle way,
Er he a-liȝte a-doun.
þan saw he comynge on o valay þat host of Saraȝynȝ þe hol aray
To take hem were þay boun.

125

Hastelich aȝen on ys stede he wond, þe sterrede he takeþ on ys hond,
& leteþ hem boþe renne.
He prykeþ hem forþ wyþ such an eyr, þat at euery stape sprong out þat fyr,
þat þay made þanne.
þe Saraȝyns prykede after faste, Ac al hure trauail a-way þay caste,
For he passede hure siȝt.
& wan þay seȝe it nolde noȝt be, Wroþ & sory þay tornde aȝee,
As þay come ful riȝt.

Forþ þanne rideþ Rychardoun, Stouteliche as a bold baroun,
ne douteþ he for no man,
Prykynge ouer hulle & pleyn, Til he cam to Charlemeyn,
neuere ne astente he þan.

Lete we Richard of Normaundy Prykye forthward on ys wey,
& of Char[lis] y wol ȝov telle,
þat lyþ at Morymond with ys barons, Wel y-loged ther on pauyllouns;
now lysteþ to þis spelle.
Muche hym awondreþ Charlys kyng þat he ne hureþ no tydyng
of his barouns hende,
hwyche he had to þe Ameral sent; For hymen ys he in gret torment,
Sorwe hym gan betrende.

Charlys clypede ys barouns, And scheweþ til hymen ys resons
On þis manere & sede:
“Lordes,” said he, “me ys ful wo þat my doþþepers buþ þus a-go,
y drede lest þay be dede.
If þay lyuede y wot to wysse Of hem y scholde ha herd or þysse,
& now y ha lost hem so.
Alas þat euere y saw þis day! þe flour of chyualrye ys away,
& my worschip is a-go!
fayne y wolde þe croune op-ȝelde, Her by-fore ȝow on thys felde,
ne kep y hure bere nomare.”
Wyþ þat A wepte wyþ is eȝen, & wan þe frensche hit herde & seȝen,
Wel sory ys frendes ware.

Gweynes ys traytour þat þar was þo, Wanne he herde hym speke so
On herte him leked þat cas:

126

Of ys sorwe a was ful fayn, And of þe barouns þat scholde be slayn,
Glad ynow a was.
Affore þe kyng i-come ys he & sayde, “Charlis, now herkne me,
& do by my saying:
þyn host liþ her ful yuele araid, And holdeþ hym ful yule apaid
Of þy longe bydyng.
Let awarnye þyn barouns þat þay don vp hure pauyllouns,
Euerech on ys side,
And trussyam þis day & aredy make, & to-morwe let ous our iorne take,
Hamward aȝen to ryde.

þe Ameral haueþ y-gadred ys host In tal heþenys by euery cost,
And þenkeþ ryde on þe;
For ys sone, sir Fyrumbras, þat among ous her conquored was,
He þenkeþ Auenged be.
þow ne hast no power now an-honde, His grete assemble to wiþ-stonde,
Wan þay comeþ to fiȝte.
And þoȝ þow woldest aȝen hym fonde, þay buþ on hure owene londe,
þow gost to grounde riȝte.
And namliche suþþe þat þay buþ dede þat scholde ben our help at nede,
Hardy ys he & feer,
And wol come hider & on ous falle, þe to slen & eke ous alle,
þat he may fynde her.
þer-for, sire, do by my rede, To-morwe erly a wel god spede
Ham-ward let ous drawe.
And þenk eft-sones to auenged be of þe Amyral þat haþ y-wreþþed þe,
& þyne men a-slawe.”

Wan he haþ told ys resoun Char[lis] caste his heued adoun,
& haþ al tornd ys mod;
So wo hym was on is þoȝt þat he ne myȝt hem answerie noȝt,
for al þe worlde god.
Gret deel hit was hym to seen, How he gan þo to wepe aȝeen,
þat noble conquerour.
Wan he by-gan to with-drawe ys mod, To him-self said he þar a stod—
“now falleþ al myn honour,

127

þe whyle y hauede me aboute Myne doþþepers bold & stoute,
Olyuer & Rolond,
In tal þe worlde men dude me doute: Whar þat y come wyþ my route,
y hadde þe heghere hond:
þanne me dradde me fer & ner, And was ycleped conquerer,
In tal þe worlde aboute.
And now buþ hy fro me gon, Whar-for waxeþ bold my fon,
þat arst dude me doute:
And yf y þuse viage leue þus, Men willeþ seyn, by swete iesus,
My myȝt ys me bereued;
þan haue ich y-lost al my renoun: As lef me were her stope adoun,
& lete gurd of myn heued.”

þe Emperour stod & hym by-þoȝte, How þat he answerye moȝte,
& þus he sayde þo:
“What sigge ȝe, lordes of renoun, By þe conseyl of Gweneloun?
Wat rede ȝe for-to do?
If y me thus turne in-to fraunce, Wyþ-oute takynge of vengeance,
Hit is to me gret schame.
Men wolleþ sayn þat buþ wyse þat it ys al my feyntyse
& putte on me þe blame.”

þan hadde þe traytour cosyns thare, Geffroun, Dautefuelle and Malkare,
Hardree and Alorys,
Gerard, Hugoun and Gwylmare, And mo þan hundred othre þat ware
ys cosyns oþer alyes,
& alle were traytours to Charlemayn; þay come forþ & gunne to sayn
Afforn hym þar a stod:
“Leue Syr kyng, as þow art free, Do now as Gweynes redeþ þee,
for it ys for þy god.
Gweneloun ys boþe god & wys, And haþ y-rad the at oure deuys,
As it wil best auayle.
þer buþ .xx. þousent among ous her þat willeþ no ferþer wyþ þe þis ȝer
Putte hem to trauayle,
And þat ys for þov hast y-lost þylke þat scholde help ous most,
Ro[land] and Olyueer,

128

And þyne oþre barouns stoute, To wham alle we wern woned aloute,
for þay were so feer.”

“By dure god,” saide Charlys þan, “ȝe loueaþ me lytel euery man,
þat redeþ me in þis maner.
If y þus schamlich schal torne agayn, Luuere me were be ded certayn
On þys felde her.”

þe erld of Genyue, syre Rayner, Sayde þanne to þe Emperer:
“Syre, be my liegeance,
þou ne dost noȝt ase þe wys If þow y-lyuest sir Alorys,
oþer any of his lyaunce.
Ys consail dude þe neuere god, Ne non þat y knowe of al is blod;
haue it wel in mynde.
Hy buþ fals in dede & þoȝt, Hure consail to þe nas neuere noȝt,
& þat þou schal wel vynde.”

þan hym spak sir alorys: “Rayner, þou spekest al amys,
By god omnipotent;
And þat þow scholdest a-bigge sare, If þe kyng hem-self ne ware
Her now in present.
What þow art ful wel we knowe; Y-come þow art of kunne lowe,
And Garyn þy fader also:
In þe werld nad he lond ne rente, Saf þat þat he wiþ falshed hente,
& dude men þer-for wo.
Neuere ne was he with-oute strif, Bot ay wykke[d]liche lyuede ys lyf,
On þefþe & robberye:
And al ys lygnage in euery syde, For robbours þai were y-kud as wyde
As any man myȝte a-spye.”

þe duk þan wax al ful of grame, Wanne he spak of is fader schame,
And strok til hym with yre;
& on þecheke gurd hym with ys hond, þat wiþ þe strok to gronde a wond,
And tomblede on þe myre.
“þow lyest, rybaud,” saide he þan, “My fader was kud a trewe man;
god ȝyue þe yule chaunce!
And alle þat buþ of ys blode Trewe men þai ben i-holde & gode,
þorȝ-out þe realme of france.”

Wan ys proute kyn y-sawe þat cas, Hautefuelle, hardre & Sir Malcras,
& oþre a þousent neȝ;

129

What of alyaunce, wat of blod, þan þay ascryede hym as þay were wod,
“Asarmes!” swyþe an-heȝ.
þat kun was wykkede on him-selue & armede hymen blyue on eche helue,
boþe ȝouge & olde.
And so he dude eke þe duk Rayner, And al is frendes þat he had ther,
þat þoȝte with hym to holde.
Mykel was þe noyse þat þan aras: Ac Gweynes partye þe more was,
& miȝtyer of power.
Ac wan þat hol host y-saw þat cas, Hit ful to þe duk Rayner þorw gras,
For loue of Olyuer.

þan þay þoȝte to-gadre han set, ne hauede Fyrumbras hymen y-let,
þat hymen wente betwene;
& þe kyng among hem went, & hoten hem by commaundyment,
þat þay lete it bene.

Wan þys noyse al cessed was þe kyng stod vp in the plas,
& clypeþ til hym Rayner,
Gweneloun, hardree & Alorys, And othre mo of þys partys
& sayde in þys maner:
“ȝe doþ me, lordes, wel muche ounriȝt, þat buþ hardy her on my siȝt,
Do me þe vylonye,
Her on my presence to profry fiȝt. Bote it be amended, by god almiȝt,
ȝour summe it schal abye.

Alorys,” said he, “þys was þy werkee, Cast of hasteliche þyn haubere,
& þyn helm of þe þou take,
And by-fore Rayner sete þe on kne, And on hys mercye pote þou þe,
and is amendes make.”

“Syre,” quaþ Gweynes, “it schal be do, Siþþe ȝe hoteþ þat hit beo so,
We wollaþ make ys pays.”
“ȝea, be god,” quaþ hautefuelle, “Do now Alorys wiþ-oute duelle,
Riȝt as þe kyng him says.”

Alorys ounarmed him þanne an haste, And on is knes andressede him vaste,
Be-fore þe duk Rayner;
þe amendes a profrede him for-to make, At heȝ & low what he wold take,
& so þay acorded ther.

þe kyng gan asky aȝenward þo, Whaþer þay hym radde a-byde or go
Aȝenward in-to fraunce.

130

“Ac wel y may wyte if y do so y potte me-selue in sorwe & wo
& to gret greuaunce.”

Hautefuelle hym answerede agayn: “Herkne, sire, what y schal sayn,
y wil ȝou noȝt be-swyke.
Ful wel ȝe know þys ech del þat euere y haue iloued ȝow wel,
& Gweynes my sone doþ yke.
Ho-so consaile ȝow her to abide, He loueþ ȝow litel at þys tyde:
þenchesoun y wol ȝow say.
þy puple ys her enpayned stronge, For ȝay han y-laye her þus longe,
y-armed boþe niȝt & day:
Al our bodyes waxeþ sore, So longe we habbeþ armes bore,
And buþ so heuy so led.
Do as Gweynes redeþ þe, And faire let ous turne aȝe,
þys ys þe beste red.
And wan we comeþ in-to oure helue, þan mowe we þar reste ous selue,
An ten ȝer ate leste.
By þat willeþ hy þat now buþ ȝonge Be ful waxe & be bold & stronge,
To helpe þe in þe beste:
& þan miȝt þou gadry a-ȝen þyn host, And come ageyn in-to þys cost,
With nobleye & bobaunce,
& do wreche for duk Rolond, & for þYn oþre barouns strong,
& take þy vengeance;
& eke þyn relyques wynne aȝee, þe croune of thorn & þe nailes three,
þat buþ away i-bore;
& þe oþre relyqes al & some, Hwyche þay habbeþ þe be-nome,
þat we buþ trauaild fore.”

þan was Char[lis] enchnted so with þees traytour, and othre mo,
Gweneloun & hardree,
þat he hem graunteþ þat same daye To trossy hur harneys & hem araye,
To torn hem hom aȝee.
þo were þys traytours glad & blyþe, In tal þat host þay wente swyþe,
And warnede mest & leste,
Euery man to makye hym ȝare, & trussye his harneys hom to fare,
After þe kynges heste.

131

þan waxe sory þe gode barouns, þat þay scholde don op hure pauillo[u]ns,
By þe conseil of losengers:
& namliche þe gode duk Rayner Muche bemeneþ . ys sone Olyuer,
& alle þe doþþepers:
Noþeles suþþe þat it was so, After þe kynge þay moste do,
& gunne to trussye vaste.
þay fulde sakkes, & trossede males, To Charyotes þay drowen þe grete bales,
& þykke hem in þam caste.

Wan þay were araid al & some, And an-horce wern þe grete gome,
And þe kyng an-horse was,
þanne he be-þoȝt hym al aboute, & how he sente ys barouns stoute;
ofte he sayde, “Alas!”
& “Alas!” said he, by-forn hem þar, “þat y euere y ȝut croune bar,
þis is a deeful þyng!
þat suþþen myn barouns buþ þus y-slayn, & y thus wrecchedly schal torne a-gayn,
Wiþ-oute wrech takyng:
þar as y ha be arst mykel of tolde, For a coward y worþ y-holde,
boþe in tour and bour.
Alas alas! cold ys my red; Why lybbe y now þat þay buþ ded,
þat huld vp myn honour?
Alas! for Roland, my Cosyn dere; Were he lyues wiþ me here,
A wolde noȝt suffry þys,
þat y thus scholde me torne aȝene, Wiþ-oute ve[n]iaunce of my tene,
Hit farþ now al a-mys:
For now y haue hym for-go, And myn oþre barons al-so,
þorw my folye dede.
Whar-for certis me ys wo.” Wiþ þat word sowenede he þo,
As he sat on ys stede;
Of is hors had he falle adoun, Nadde y-ben þe socour of his baroun,
þat vp þer gunne him holde
ys trewe baronye be-mend him sore, & Ro[land], & Olyuer wel mychele more,
& þe oþre barouns bolde,

Wan þe kyng of Sowenyng awoke, þe way to france þan he toke,
As he lay forþ riȝt.

132

þe kyng gan loke þanne a-syde, & saw whar Ric[hard] com þat tyde,
Prikynge by-fore his syȝt,
And sat on þat noble stede, þat al so swyftlyche þanne ȝede,
So swolwe doþ on flyȝt.
þe sterrede on ys hand he ladde, þat he of Mandysee wan & hadde,
þat he hym slow in fyȝt,
& bar a naked swerd an honde. þe kyng made ys stede a-stonde,
And by-huld hym faste;
Hym semede þan it was a knyȝt, þat was y-come out of fyȝt,
And sumdel was agaste.

þan . clypede he hemen þat were most Worthyest barons of al ys host,
of Ienyue þe duk Reyner,
Raol Mountferant, & duk howelle, And bad him a-wyle with him duelle,
& þat host a-reste ther:
“For y seo ȝunder comeþ a knyȝt, Prykyng so doþ þe foul on flyȝt,
On a ful iolif stede;
Lord þe stede þat he goþ lyȝt, Another a lede þan honde riȝt,
þat semeþ god at nede.
By ys rydyng it semeþ me, Richard of Normandye it miȝte be,
þat berþ þat swerd an hand.
Now ihesu, þat ert heuene kyng, þys day sende me god tydyng
Of my neuew Roland,
And of Olyuer, my derlyng, þat þay mote be ȝute lyuyng,
& my othre barouns wyȝte.”
By þat þat host arested was, Rychard cam prykande neȝ þe plas
& by-fore hym þanne aliȝte.

Anon, riȝt as þe kyng hym seȝ, Quyklich þanne a rod hym neȝe,
& sayde til hym ful ȝare:
“Iantail knyȝt, comen of kynde free, Of Roland my neuewe tel þou me,
How ys it by hym afare;
& of Gy of Borgoygne, & of Olyuer, And of al myn othre doþþeper,
buth ȝut on lyue.”
“ȝea, sire, wyþ-inne þis þridde day y lefte hymen murye & in god aray,”
Said Ri[chard], so y thryue;

133

On þe stronge tour of Egremount, þar buþ þyn barouns alle hol & sond,
Saf Basyn þat is aslaye:
þe Ameral be-segeþ hymen þer-yn Wyþ an hundred þousant Saraȝyn,
Be niȝtes & be daye.
þe Amyrel haþ sworn by ternagan þat neuere ne wil he departie þan,
for noȝt þat may betyde,
Til þay be-take in dispyt of þe, And an-honged heȝe on þe galwetre,
euerech by oþres syde.
þar ys with-ynne wyþ hymen there, Flo[rippe] þe Amyralis doȝtre dere,
A burde on boure briȝt:
Sche haueþ þe relyqes on hure warde, For whyche þou hast y-trauaild harde,
longe tyme day & niȝt.

þyn barons þat buþ of gret honour, þat so buþ be-seged on þat tour,
þey sendeþ þe word by me,
þat þow scholdest come with þyn host And delyuery hem out of þat cost,
As þou art hende & fre;
& if þou wolt so as god me saue, Al þyn relyqes þow nyȝt haue,
þat y spak of eere:
And discoumfitye þow schalt þan Amyrel, And al ys Saraȝyns, y wot ful wel,
þat now buþ with him þere.
And wan þou hauest so y-done, Conquere þou schalt after sone
þe reame of heþene Spaygne.”
þan was glad Charlis kyng, Ne herde he neuere no tydyng
War-for he was so fayne.

Now ys Charlis glad & blythe, And þonkeþ god an .C. sythe
Of þat gode tydynge.
By seynt Dynys a swor ys oþ, þat Gweynes & hyse scholde be wroþ,
for hure compassynge:
“Hit ys no þyng on hymen ylong þat y ne hadde y-lost Rolond,
& myn barons hende.
þay buþ wel ful of felonye, & þat þay schullen eft-sone abye,
bote þay hemen amende.
y þanke þe, Ri[chard],” quaþ Char[lis] kyng, “For certis þow hauest wiþ þy tydyng
y-broȝt myn herte of care.

134

Al niȝt we wolleþ reste ous her, And to-morwe, wan þe day ys cler,
þyderward wille we fare,
And y make auow to my lord seynt Ion, If y may lyue til moneday non,
lyuerance wil y make;
And þe Amerel schal lese ys hed, & al his sarsyns schulle be ded,
þat y may of-take.”

“Sire,” quaþ Richard, “he ys ful strong, & haþ be-set þe contre long,
Wyþ Sarsynȝ al aboute:
four myle in lengþe spredreþ is host, And thre on brede by euery cost,
With-inne & wyþ-oute.
And a thys syde Egrymoygne a iornee þar is a brigge of gret fertee,
A Citee ys set þer-bye:
Mantrible þe Citee ys y-called, Wyþ marbre fyn ys he walled,
& abatayld with toures hye.
Vnder þe brigge þan flet flagot, On him ne may durye schip ne bot,
So sterneliche he him renneþ:
Of brede ys he a gret boȝe-schot, & thre spere-schaftes dep ech grot,
As many man it wel kenneþ.
A þys syde þe toun þat ryuer rend, & þe brigge þar ouer stent,
Whar forþ we moste pace.
Oþer passage ne ys þar non bote by þat brigge y-mad of ston,
nys þer non oþer grace.
amydde þe brigge þar stent a tour y-buld aboȝe wyþ gret honour,
Wyþ brytaskes many & fale:
In þar on dwelleþ þe briggeward, A geant ys he of an yuel part,
Many man he bryngþ on bale.
Vnder þe tour buþ ȝeates two, Whar þorȝ men mote nedes go,
þat wolleþ pacye þere:
þar stondeþ algate an hundred kniȝtes, þat passage to kepe by dayes & nyȝtes,
With þe geant þat ys portere:
Agolafre hatte þe proute geant, Fro hennes in-to Cyuyle grant,
nys þar anoþer swych.

135

He ys a Sarsyn of wonder gret strengþe, xv. fet he haueþ in lengþe,
& ys as blak so pych:
Ne saw y neuere non hym lyke, He semeþ ful wel þe deuels chyke,
y-sprong of þe pyt of helle.
Alwey he haueþ on ys baylye x. þousant knyȝtes ful hardye,
To don al at ys wille.
Ac of o þyng, sire, by-þenk þe, þou passest noȝt thar wyþ no strengþe,
Bote sleȝþe helpe þar-to.
For non assaut helpeþ noȝt, þe brigge-warde ys so strong y-wroȝt,
Hit were noȝt worþ a slo.
If we schullen pasye that ryuer, ȝe mote leue with ȝoure power
On a-buchement as y schal sigge:
In a wode þat ys þer faste by, Half a myle it ys ful ny,
by-twene him & þe brigge:
And y schal take þe wey forþ riȝtes, And haue wyþ me of ȝour knyȝtes
.V. hundred gode y-kudde.
Ryȝt as marchantȝ wille we ryde, Wel y-armed an-vnder our gonels wyde,
& swerdes sherpe y-hudde.
þe somers schulleþ by-forn ous gon, Wyþ grete pakkes euerechon,
As it were marchaundyse;
And we wolleþ fayre after ryde, As marchauns scholde with litel pryde,
And pacye in þis gyse.
& wan we buþ wyþ such a gynne þe brigge-ȝates al wyþ-ynne,
þan wol y blowe myn horn;
þan come ȝe with ȝour company, And takeþ þe brigge with maystry,
& þe Citee þat stent afforn.”

“A! lord,” sayde Charlys þan, “þat Richard ys a noble man,
god ȝyue hym gode chaunce!
Ho miȝte our passage betere araye? No man for-soþ at my paye,
by-twyne þis & fraunce.
Of ys counsayl am y apayd: Hit schal be don as he haþ sayd,
Be dere god almyȝte.”
þan he het on blowe an horn, And þat host abod be-hynde & forn,
& logede hem þar alnyȝte.

136

Oppon þe val of Morymond Abydeþ þat host hol & sond,
Fayre oppon a grene.
A-morwe wan þe day was liȝt, Charlys comandeþ þat euery wiȝt
Sone beo y-armed clene.
Wan þay wer y-armed alle at riȝtes, Charles het Richard chuse his knyȝtes
þat he wolde lede;
And Richard dude as Char[lis] saide & ches.v.hundred, & hem a-raide
On gonels oppon hur wede.
Hyre sarplers dud he with hay be fild, & bonde hem to hure sadels gyld,
To deuery hure ryche araye.
Hure swerdes durnely so ben y-hid, & ase Marchans þat wern ounkyd,
So þey wentte hure waye.
Charlis takeþ wyþ hym his host, And folȝeþ after wiþ-oute bost
to mantrible-ward ful riȝt.
þat day ȝaf Richard or a ȝede To duk Rayner þe sterrede stede,
þat was so god & liȝt.

Rychard ryȝd forþ wyþ ys knyȝtes þat warn arayd after hure ryȝtes,
Riȝt as marchans scholde.
By-fore þe kyng þay prykede þere, Y wol ȝow telle now what þay were,
þe gretteste of þay bolde.
þe furste was Richard of wham y tel, þe secunde of Nauntes þe duk Howel,
Duk Rayner þe þridde was;
þe furþe was Raol of Mans þe stronge; To seche al fraunce brod & longe,
A betre knyȝt þer nas.
þuse prykeaþ faste forþ by-fore, V. hundred knyȝtis in al þay wore,
Hure somers lefte þay noȝt.
[þat þay ne dryue by-forn hem euerechon]
þat ech of hem ne drof forþ on, With pakkes y-charged euerechon,
Wyþ harneys y-fillid toȝte:
Now Agolafre beo hym wel y-war, Bote he kepe him þe betre þar,
At þe entree of þe brigge.
For þe trew þat he wol craue, An yuel torn tyd þe haue,
Myn hed þer-to y legge.

þys knyȝtes prikeaþ forþ on hure way, þe somers þei dryue be-forn hem ay,
& vaste forþ þay wente,

137

And beren þe pakkes on hure rig, Til þay come euene to þe bryg,
nowar þay ne astente.
And Charlis ys to þe wode y-come, And enbuschedem þar with ys trome,
An hundred þousant kniȝtes.
þe oþre were ate brigge þan & by-hulde how þe ryuer ran,
And oþre ferly syȝtes.

And wan þay hadden al be-holde, þe sturne Ryuer, & þe brigge bolde,
& þe toures þat stode oppon:
þey sayde þat terme of al hur age, ne hurde þay neuere of no passage,
So grysly to lokye on.
Saide Richard—“þat is soþ, Ac loke on þe medwe war Sarsynȝ goþ,
A þousant þer buþ & mo,
Wel y-armed on þe beste assyse, Hure purpos y can noȝt deuyse,
Ne wat þay þenkþ do.”

þan saide howel—“þys ys hard, Parfay ich am ful sore affard,
god of heuene ous lede!”
“Lordes,” quaþ Ry[chard], “buþ noȝt agast, Ac holdeþ forþ ȝour way an hast,
& boldelich doþ ȝour dede:
And wan we comeþ to þe brigge-gate, Hwat so þay beo þat buþ þer-ate,
Doþ as y schal sayne.
Holdeþ ȝow stille, and spekeþ noȝt, but leteþ me telle as y ha þoȝt,
What so þay speke agayne.
And ȝif we mowe pacye so, þe draȝt-brigge & þe ȝeates two,
þan ys tyme to flyte.
þan Casteþ ȝour gonels of anon, & drawe we to our wepnes euerechon,
& let se ho can smyte.”

Raol Delamans sayde þan: “Muche maugre mote he han,
þat any of hem spare.”
With þat þay gunne hem for-to haste, And dryue forth þe somers faste
Ouer þe brygge thare.

Agalofre, þe voule gome, Ful wel of-seȝ þus knyȝtes come,
Wyþ hure somers fayre.
Out of þe tour þan cam he doun, And set hym on an heyȝ peroun,
y-mad as a chayre.

138

An Axe had he þan an-honde, A shrewedere wepene for-to fonde,
Was neuere non yfounde.
Three fet of brede was þe blad, Of style y-tempred ful wel y-mad,
þe hylue wyþ yre y-bounde.
þe Sarsyn was an hudous man, By-twyne ys to browen was a span
largeliche of brede;
Ys browes were boþe rowe and grete, & ys nose cammus, ys eȝene depe,
& glystryd as þe glede.
Suþþe þe werlde furst by-gan, Nas neuer ȝut so lodly man,
y-mad of flehs & felle.
Was he noȝt a godes helf þe deuel he semede al hym-self,
y come þo riȝt of helle.
þe Amyral hadde y-loued hym long, For he was so wonderly strong,
And doȝty þer-to of dede.
Constable he mad him of ys lond, And tok hym þe briggewarde an hond,
For al men schold hym drede.

God saue þe crystene company! Wan þay come þe Sarsyn ny
Ry[chard] rod by-fore:
þan Agolafre stert vp-on ys fet, And askede of Ry[chard] al so ket,
Wyder-ward þat þay wore:
“& weþen art þou þov ladde prout? And wyderward schal þis grete rout
of Somers wiþ þe ware?
And wanne buþ þaye þat comeþ her ryde, On heȝe stedes & gonels wyde?
Tel me what þay are.”

Ry[chard] ansuerede þe proute Sarsyn, On Arragounneys speche god & fyn,
And saide, “we buþ Marchaund;
Of drapreye we ledeþ gret fuysoun, And wolleþ þer-wyþto Agremoun,
to þe Amyral of þis laund.
He þenkþ hold an huge ryot, Of Mahoun, & iubiter, & Margot,
Wyþ-inne þis forteniȝt.
And cloþye he þenkeþ ys barouns fre, For þe loue of oure godes thre,
þat buþ ful myche of myȝte.
And we han her scarletes & grene, & cloþes of tarse, & of sulk ful schene,
& cloþes eke of golde.

139

On al paynee buþ rycchere non þan we han her & þat god won,
bygge hem he so wolde.
Of such chaffar as we haue, So þat we mowe come saue,
fro henne to þe Amyrel,
þanne schal he on þe beste chuse, And þoȝ we a-boute hym schullen luse,
he schal haue ys del.
Tel me, sire, þerfor now, Of þys passage what ys þe trow,
And how we moȝe ous quyte.”
Agolofre ansuerede hym agayn:—“Of þys brigge y am wardayn,
& receuour of myche & lyte:
Ac her passede wyþ-inne a wyle, Crystene men þat dude me gyle,
þat come fram Char[lis] kyng;
To þe Amyral þay wente on god aray, My trew þay sayde þay wolde pay
At hure aȝen comyng.
þay schulleþ beo an-honge on helle, For þay be-trayede þan Amerelle,
& dryuen him of ys tour;
And holdeþ hym ȝute aȝen þe riȝt, & ys doȝtre eke, a burde bryȝt,
And doþ him deshonour.
And now haþ þe A[meral] by-leyn hem þer, With an hundred þousand of Sarȝyns fier,
Sherpe men at nede:
Ac on of hem þys ȝunder day, Ase a þef her be stal away,
Oppon a noble stede.
My Cosyn a-slow, a man of mod, And tok ys stede sur & god,
And passede þe ryuere.
þe deuel him halp þat he nas dreynt! By-for þat was neuere non so queynt,
þat passeden on þat manere.
Wolde it, Mahoun and ternagan, þat he were her þe same man!
ys blod scholde sone a-kele:
Wiþ myn axe y wolde ȝyue him on, And to-cleue hym þorȝ flechs & bon,
Doun riȝt to þe hele.
And now is þe A[myral] sore afryȝt, For þe doynge of þilke knyȝt,
þat passed þo þes ende,
Leste he go to þe Emperour, & brynge hym hyder to socour,
Hym & hys to schende.

140

Whar-for he sente me er þan, þat y ne lete her no man
Pacy þys passage,
Were he erld oþer baroun, Bote if y seȝe ys facioun,
Oþer knewe him by vysage:
& þar-for schawe me þyn anon.” “Gladly,” quaþ Richard, “so mot y gon,
haue þou none doute.
What do ȝe felawes? comeþ neer & ȝour vysages schewyeþ heer,
euerechone aboute.”
With þat Richard preynte ys eȝe, Oppon ys feleschip þat was him neȝe,
Hure purpos to by-gynne.
þe gate Ri[chard] hym neyȝeþ neer, So dude Howel, Roal, and Reyner
þe draȝtbrigge ride with-ynne.

Wan Ago[lafre] hit seȝ he sayde with cry: “Draweþ ȝow abak, ȝe doþ foly,
oþer ȝe schullaþ a-bigge.
Y wil noȝt þer passye her no mo.” Sone to þe cheyne sterte he þo,
& vp adrow þe brigge.

Now buþ þay foure with-inne ther; With-outen houede þe somer,
& al hure companee.
Agolafre com forþ wiþ ys hache: “Ribaux,” saide he, “ich ȝow attache,
Aȝeld ȝow anon to me.
Ho made ȝow so hardy men, þe draȝtbrigge for-to come wyþ-yn,
& þe ȝeates bothe,
Bot it were at myn assent? þer-for to prysoun ȝe schulle be send,
Ne beo ȝow noȝt so loþe.
& þay wyþ-oute schulle be dede; For ȝour folye þat ys hure mede,
Or ich euere reste.
And on þe morwenyng y wil ȝov sende To Amyral balan þat ys my frende,
to don with ȝou is beste.
Doþ of ȝour govnes ech man a-sonder, & y wil se ȝour wede an vnder,
As Ma[houn] me helpe & rede.
Me semeþ ȝe buþ wel ful of wyles, And habbeþ by-þoȝt ȝow of sum gyles,
to do sum wikked dede.”
To howel he sterte him þan with mod, & tok hym faste by þe hod,
þer nas non oþer bote;

141

Thie thre syþes a bar hym þanne aboute And al is hod to-taar to cloute,
& cast hym to ys fote.

“Certis,” quaþ Roald, “y soffry to long, To se my cosyn haue þys wrong,
So mot y þe & þryue!”
Hasteliche he adrow ys swerd, And agolofre on þe heued a gerd,
As harde as he may dryue:
Ac for þat strok had he non hoȝe For he was þanne to-be-toȝe
body & heued y-same
With an hard crested serpentis fel, On which non eged tol ne may no del
With no strok entame.

Hure gonels þey cast of þan ecchon, & adrewe hure swerdes with þat anon
raplych at o route:
And þan þay laid on þat foule wyȝt Sturne strokes with al hure myȝt,
In tal ys body aboute.
Ac al hure strokes ne greuede him noȝt, þe serpente skyn was so harde y-wroȝt,
þat no man myȝt hit pers.
[þan hadde þay þerof wonder gret]
& þan þay awondrede of him ecchon, þat for al þe strokes þat þay gerde on,
þat hym nas noȝt þe wers.

Agolafre ful egre gan to waxe, & wel anheȝ he heuede ys axe,
& to Roal a smot with mayne:
Ac he failede of ys stroke, & þe axe ful on a stilp of oke,
þat bar vp ther a chayne;
þe strok was so herd yset, þat þorw þat treo & þe cheyne gret,
vj. fold y-layd a-boute,
As liȝtliche as hit had ibeo wax, ran þe strok þanne. of ys ax
Chayne & tre þorȝoute.

“A lord,” sayde Reyner þan, “þys ys a deuyl and no man,
Certis as y leue:
Ho scholde a-stonde ys sory strok, Wan he smyt her þorȝ an ok,
& no strok may him greue?”

142

With þat be-huld he faste bye, A gret barre of yre saȝ he lye,
neȝ hym þar be-syde.
Reyner þo putte vp hys brond, And tok vp þe barre with boþen ys hond,
& wente til hym þat tyde
& gerd hym þer-Wyþ on þe molde, þat ys legges gunne to volde,
& bursten euene atwo.
þat deablet ful with þat strok So harde þat al þe brigge schok,
And þe ryuer dude al-so.

Wel sone was þys y-knowed wyde, & þe Sarȝyns armede hem on euery syde,
Boþe with scharp & hard;
& wyþinne a wyle þer wer y-dyȝt, Mo þan ten þousant of Sarȝyns wyȝt,
& drowe hem þyderward.

Rychard tok þanne ys horn & blew, & Char[lis] y-hurd hit & wel y-knew
þe auenture þat was befalle:
Of ys enbuschyment þan brak he out, And cryede “montioye!” al aloud,
& sone þai come out alle.
Sone was ech man on ys stede, And prykede vaste to þat nede,
þe riȝt way as þay nome.
Ri[chard] þe brigge let falle þan adoun, And hys falawes beþ entrede euerech one,
or þat gret host hym come.

þan come þe Saraȝyns of þe Citee route, And þoȝte wyþ force dryuen hem oute,
& þe brigge aȝen vp-drawe:
Ac þay wyþ-stode hem al wyþ strengþe, And reculede hem þar an acres lengþe,
& many þay habbeþ aslawe.

Wan Charlys to þe brigge ys come, Wyþ ys hol host al and some,
þe brigge þay toke a-rank.
þat day Gweynes bar hym wel, And ys kynnesmen, swykel and fel,
Of Char[lis] to gete hem þanke.
þay were þe furste men of myȝt, þat potte þe Saraȝyns to þe flyȝt,
Al þoȝ þay kome late.

143

To þe Cite ȝeate þey chacedem riȝt, Ac þer þey tornde & ȝaf hym fyȝt,
A litel by-fore þe ȝeate.
[Ryȝt to þe draȝt-brigge þat lay þar-ate]

Charlys gan fiȝte þo wyþ egre mod, And Gweynes al-so þat bi him stod,
And sloȝe þe Sarsyns kete.
þat day schewede þat traytour To Char[lis] ys lord ful muche honour,
for neuere a nolde hym lete.

Char[lis] lokedem be-hynde ys bak, And saw dele þar many a knak,
& myche noyse make.
To þat doynge þan tornde he, What yt was he wolde y-se,
& þyderward he gan take.
þan was Agolafre noȝt ded þe ȝet, Ac on his knes he hadde him set,
For his legges nere noȝt sonde,
& had wyþ ys axe a-slawe An hep of frenschemen þat leye arawe,
Afforn hym on þe gronde.

Char[lis] was wroþ and angry so, Wan he seȝ what he had do,
& þoȝte on þis manere:
“Myȝte þys fend aryse and go, Muche sorwe wolde he do
Among my mayne here;”
With þat Char[lis] to hym wond, And gurd him a strok wyþ ys brond,
& on þe heued him sette.
Ac for þat strok had he no dere, For no strok myȝt hym percy þere,
þat sory skyn dude him lette:

And þan was Char[lis] wonder grym, And aȝeyn hym renneþ, & stokeþ hym
By-twene ys browes rowe:
þan ran þat swerd in-to ys brayn, And whan he haueþ him so a-slayn
to þe ryuer was he þrowe.

Now ys Agolafre ded, & Char[lis] turneþ aȝe þe hed,
& ȝede þar he was aar.
Alle þe Sarȝyns þat he wyþ mette, Bytere & sore he hym grette,
& þorȝ thar body hem bar.
þe paynymes þat were oppon þe brigge, þar me miȝte y-sen hem lygge,
bledynge at an hepe;

144

Summe were cloue in-to þe tonge, And somme were styked þorȝ lyure & longe,
And many wer ouer y-lepe:
Sone was voydede þe brigge þere Of alle þe oþre þat lyues were,
to þe citee þaye gunne flee:
þe ȝeates wern opened aȝen hem wyde, & þay floȝe in & nold noȝt a-byde,
& sperede he[m] faste aȝee.
[Boþe brigge and baly in-to þe toun-ȝeate, Now buþ þay comen alle þer-ate]

Charlys þe Citee þo gan asayle, Two dawes hole wyþ-oute fayle,
Wyþ al ys grete route:
And þay wyþ-inne defended hem wel, Wyþ schutynge & castyng of stones fel,
Many þay slowe with-oute.

Sone was. al þe contree war, xl. Myle aboute thar,
þat Mantrible be-seged was,
& þe brygge conquered þat was stout: Sarȝynȝ þyder-ward þan gunne rout,
to helpe hem in þat cas.
Ere to dawes ful ended ware Fyfty þousant Sarȝyns come thare,
And entrede in þat Citee.
Bot if god helpe now Charlemoun, Wel late passeþ he þorȝ þat toun,
To helpe ys barouns fre.
And nowar myȝte he passe be-syde, For þe roche was heȝ an hundred stryde,
Stondyng by þe reuer,
And anclosed þat side so stronge & heȝe, þat bute it were for þe foul þat fleȝe,
Passage was non saf þer.

[þe Sarȝynen power gan waxe gret]
And þe walles were of Marbreston, Wyþ pykes of yre y-set þer-on,
oppon þe crest ful þykke.
Muche was þe noise & þat cry þat þo was maked in þat Cyty,
Among þe Sarȝyns wykke.

þan was þar a geant ful of pryde, And openede þe water-gate wyde,
Ys name was enfachoun:
A mayl of Ire he bar an honde, Ther-wyþ þoȝte he þanne to fonde
The frensche to dynge adoun.
þat heued þer-offen was wonder gret, & þe hilues lengþe was viij fet
of þat sturne staue.

145

Ys wyf was lyggynge on chylbedde For two chyldren þat sche þo hedde
Wyþ-inne þer-on a kaue.
þey were noȝt þe ȝut four mo[n]þes old, [A]c seue fet of lengþe hur ayþer was told,
& þre enchen more:
& twey large fet wyþ-oute drede, Wel y-mete & more on brede,
boþe þe childrene wore.
Amyote hure damme, a geauntesse, Had y-kept hem wiþ busynesse,
Algate in-to þat day:
A lodluker damme þan sche was on, of hide & hywe, of fleche & bon,
neuere no man ne y-say.

Enfachoun ys to þe ȝeate y-come, And haueþ þat mayl an-honde y-nome,
& at þe barers he hym sette:
And sayde, “Char[lis], þou olde wrecche, Woldest þov oure relyqes fecche?
By Mohoun y wol þe lette:
And bote þou þe rathere beo agon, þou schelt beo ded & þat Anon.
Her riȝt þou schalt baslawe.
And if Fyrumbras may beo taan, þat ilke false reneyed man,
He worþ honged & drawe.”

þan laid he on wyþ myȝt & mayn, And slow al þat hym com agayn,
With þat mayl quarree.
Or Charlis tok oȝt myche kepe, Of frenschemen had he slawe an hepe,
þat tilde vp til ys knee:
þanne come þe Sarȝynȝ out And defendede þe barres al about,
& smyte strokes ounryde,
& ȝyue þe frensche hard batail Ful many þar were with-oute fail;
A-slawe on ayþer syde.

Charlys þanne of ys stede aliȝte, & ioyous ys swerd out he twyȝte,
& to þe geant sterte,
And smot hym an-heȝ on þe pan, þat wiþ þe dynt þat swerd him ran
Doun ryȝt þorȝ ys herte;
þe geant fel to grounde an haste, þan were þe Saraȝyns sore agaste
& lefte þe barrers clene,
& to þe ȝeate þan þay wende, And hure ȝeate gunne defende,
Wyþ launces & gleues kene.

þe power of hem enpayrede faste, & þe frensche to þam shute & caste,
& rebuked hem foule with-ynne.

146

þan cryede þe kyng wel an heȝ: “now helpeþ lordes, for we buþ neȝ,
our purpos her to wynne.”

Wanne kyng Char[lis] had y-cryed so, Rychard and Reyner & tweyne mo,
Roald was on þer-ate,
& þe furthe was þe duk Howelle, þat þo reculede þe Sarsyns felle,
A gret way fro þe ȝeate.

Now habbeþ þai y-dryue hem in wyþ strengþe Wyþ-inne þe ȝeate an acres lengþe,
þe kyng & þys barons foure
bot god now helpe þis lordes fyue In gret drede buþ þay of hure lyue,
þis lordes of honoure;
For þay were be-set a-boute With thre þousant at o route,
fyȝtyng men ful gode;
And an hundred to þe ȝeate þan were y-diȝt To schutten it faste bote þay ne myȝt,
So hard þe frenche with-stode.
Ful myche was þanne to done þere or þay moȝte þe barre arere,
þe ȝate to make faste.
Ac Ate laste wyþ myche wo, þe ȝeate þay closede & barred hit þo,
& þan Char[lis] wax agaste.

To god kyng Char[lis] prayde þo, Scholde hym saue & his felawes al-so
fram combryment of þo felouns,
& sende hym grace fayre to ascape, To do þe viage þat [he] haþ schape
On helpynge of his barons.

Wan duk Rychard y-herde hys fare: “Sir Emperour,” said he, “lef þy care,
& tak þyn herte to þe:
We buþ now her foule be-sterte, Bote if we ben þe betere of herte,
We buþ bot ded for soþe.

Teche we now wat men we ben, For wel ȝe seeþ we moȝe noȝt flen;
ȝeld ous we mote or fiȝte.
& ho-so þis day let take him quycke, In helle habbe he pynes wycke,
Ay þer to brenne liȝte.”

þat confort dude Charlis god, & gan to fiȝte as he were wod,
& sone haþ sleyn a hundred.
So dude þe foure as men of mod, Nas no Sarsyn þat hymen a-stod,
þat nas to-hewe asounder.

147

“Montioye!” þan Charlis gan to crye With ys voys wel an hye,
þat al men miȝte yt here.
Gweynes with-oute y-herde þat cry, And of ys lord þan tok pyty,
Ys treytour þoȝ a were,
& hasteliche heȝede he him to þe ȝeate; Ys kynrede him folȝede & stode þer-ate,
A þousand ate leste;
Wel harde þat ȝat þay gunne assayle, And þay wiþ-inne with-oute fayle,
defended hem in þe beste,
And cast out trees & stones wikke, & þay fulle on hur heuedes þikke,
& dust hem to þe erþe adoun.
Wan Alorys þe traytour þat y-seeȝ Anger ȝeode ys herte neȝ,
And sayde to Gweneloun:
“Cosyn we doþ gret folye her, To lete ous slen in þys maner,
A-mong our fon ounwreste;

And þer-for y rede go we hen, & tak we wyþ ous our kynnesmen,
& let þe othre don hur beste.
Our kyng ys now with-inne þe walle, And Reyner of genyue, þat yuel him falle!
& al þat falerede.
Now schulle we of hymen haue vengeaunce, Ne comeþ þay neuere no more in fraunce,
bote þar þay schulle be dede.
& beo we delyuerd of hymen þus, y wot ful wel, be swete iesus,
of þe oþre we buþ awreke,
þat liggeþ at Egremoyne on þe tour; for sorwe her-of and dolour
hure hertes wolleþ breke;
& þan mowe we wyþ-oute distaunce Habben al þe realme of fraunce
At oure comaundyment.”
“Godes for-bode,” Gweynes sede, “þat ich assentede to such a dede,
To don hym such traysement;
for þanne wer y wers þan any qued, If ich assentede to oure kynges ded,
Whar þat y miȝt hym saue.
for Of hym we holdeþ al our fees, We mote hym helpe in werre & pees,
With þe power þat we haue.”

“Certis,” said Alorys, “þow dost noȝ[t] wel, Bote if þou do as y þe tel,
& herkne þenchesoun:

148

If Char[lis] be now þar a-slawe, þe othre þanne y-worþe be don of dawe,
þat liggeþ at Egrymoun;
& þanne buþ our enymys alle dede: & þar-for lef þys assaut y-rede,
& turne we aȝen to fraunce,”
“y wil noȝt,” quaþ Gweynes, “be seynt Rycher, y wol hym helpe by my power,
As god me ȝyue god chaunce.
As lef me were my hed for-go, As in þys cas to fondye hym fro,
to wham we buþ y-swore.”
Alorys ys herte neȝ brak atwo Wanne Gueneloun had ansuerede him so,
So wo him was þar-fore.
þe kynnerede of hem to-gadres goþ, And euerech to oþerward waxeþ wroþ,
& made disturbaunce.
Wanne þe frensche y-seȝe þys, þe sege þey lefte al clene y-wys
þorȝ hure fol distaunce.

Wan sir Fyrumbras y saw þat cas [OMITTED]

[_]

A leaf of the MS. is missing here. The following note summarises the narrative as presented in the French original.

Ferumbras with reproaches rallies the French, and they force their way into the city. Then the traitors join them. Mantrible is taken. A messenger takes the news to Balan. Amyote, the giantess, hearing of her husband's death, seizes a scythe, and kills several of the French. Charles with a bolt from a cross-bow kills her. The French enter the city.

Now haþ Char[lis] þe citee y-take & sleyn echon boþ whit & blake,
þat noble was & feer.
To dawes soiourned he & two nyȝte, þe Citee for to araye & dyȝte,
After ys owe maner.
Alle þay habbeþ þar-ynne aslawe þat lyued on þe heþene lawe,
þat þay moȝte of-take:
Muche was þe tresour þat þay founde þan, of gold & syluer & ryche stan,
& monaye whyt & blake.

A tour þar was of a gret Array, In whych þe Amyral ys tresour lay,
Gold wyþ-oute nombre.
Char[lis] hit delede wyth ys hond Among ys barons al þat a fond,
Aboȝen erthe and vndre.
To alle men he delde ynow plentee to euery man after hys degre
On þe toun and there.
& þanne þay soȝte þe toun aboute, þay founde þe Caue þarwithoute.
þar þe childrene were,

151

Whyche þat oȝte þe geauntesse, þat Char[lis] aslow in distresse,
& schet hure þorȝ þe molde.
þe chyldren þat were boþe gret & touȝt, By-fore þe kynge þay were y-broȝt,
to don with hem what a wolde.

Wan þay come to Charlis syȝt, A blessede hym-selue anon ryȝt,
As he to batail scholde;
& sayde þanne on ys sawe, He nolde noȝt þay were a-slawe,
for a somers charg[e] of golde:
þe kyng het anon riȝt þan, To an archebisschop þat hiȝt Herman,
y-folled þat þay were.
þe Archebysschop fullede boþe anon, & Roland þanne he het þat on,
& þat other Olyuere.

þys was don on þe moneþ of May, Wan þe foules syngeþ on þe spray,
& erbes waxeþ grene:
after þe ȝer . þat our lord was bore, Nyȝen hondred & four score,
þe twentyþe day y wene.
þat þe toun of Mantrible conquerid was, And þe brigge y-wonne þorwe his gras.
& þanne þe þridde day,
After þe kyng had take ys reste, Of ys barons clepede he þe beste,
& þus til hem gan say:

“Lordes, & frendes, what redeþ ȝee? Wham schal y leue þys Citee
to kepe of al myn host,
þe whyle y wende on my vyage To socoury myn othre baronage,
þat lyþ on þe ȝondre cost?”
“Sire,” quaþ Richard, “be seynt Ion, þay buþ rewarded riȝt anon,
Hy þat schullaþ duelle.
Roald Delamans þat on schal bee, And howel of Nauntes anoþer ys he,
Certys by my wylle.”

Char[lis] sayde, “by god almyȝt, þow it hauest dyuysed ariȝt,
After myn owe lykyng.
þus barouns buþ gode and suffysaunt For-to take such þyng an hant,
god ȝyue þe his blessyng!”
Sayde þay þanne to þe kyng: “If we her schulleþ beo leuyng,
more folk moste we haue,

152

of ȝour baronage & ȝour gret power For-to leue wiþ ous hoer,
þe Cite for-to saue.”
“ȝe schul haue,” quaþ Charlemayn. Vij. C. he delyuerede to hem þayn,
Til hem wiþ-ynne a-stonde.
And eke þe wondede men al-so, To soiourny there wyþ hem tho,
Til þay were hol & sounde.

þe Emperour þanne het an haste þat ys host were arayd faste.
To wende on ys iornee.
þan were þe tabours faste y-bete, As þat host him lay in euery strete
of þat faire Citee.
Hure harneys þay gunne to trossye þan, Baroun, & knyȝt, & euery man:
bote noȝt with hem þay nadde
Bot bred, & wyn, & flechs, and oten, þer-of þay toke as þay wer hoten,
god plente þer-of þay ladde.
Ac al hure harneys leuede þay þer, Cloþys, & pauylouns, and oþer ger,
And armedem on hure wede.
And fayre þay ryde out of þe toun: Oppon blanchard rod Charloun,
þat was ful god at nede.

þan Char[lis] gan to loke aboute, And be-holdeþ al ys fayre route,
þat spradde þo al þat cost:
On ys herte god þankeþ hee, þat sent hym on erthe such postee,
To gouerny such an host.
“Glad,” hym þoȝte, “may ich bee, Suþþen y haue al þys barnee,
At my commandyment.”
þan þankeþ he god eft of ys sond, & croycede ys fysage with ys hond,
& rod forþ in þat entent.

Now haþ Amyral gadrid ys host On fyftene londes of dyuers cost,
To C. þousant and mo.

153

And Charlys wyþ þe hore berde An hundred þousant hadde on herde,
þanne with hym to go.
Duk Richard þe Auauntwarde ladde, And Reyner of Genyue þat oþer hadde,
As þe kyng it wolde.
Richard þe contree y-knew ech del, þat host he ledeþ & gyeþ hit wel,
þyderward þat þay scholde

A Saraȝyn þer was & to þe Amerel ys he come & telleþ þys doynge al & some,
& saide on his resoun,
In Mantryble how Charlys haþ by gunne Agolafre aslawe and wiþ strengþe y-wonne
þe brygge & eke þe toun.

Wan þe Amyral y-herde of þat cas Almost for sorwe wod a was,
& wep & gan to crye,
And sayde, “Mahoun, þow art myswent, for now am y vndon and schent,
þou art noȝt worþ a flye.
Wyckede god, þou dost amys, Suþþe þow wilt suffrye þys,
My worschip to wyþdrawe.
Fyrumbras my sone dude ful wel Wan he for-sok þe euery del,
þer-of may he beo fawe.
þow schalt abye, so mot y go, For þow woldest consentye to
to do me þat vylonye.”
An axe a seȝ afforn hym stonde And tok hur anon on ys honde,
And goþ to þe Maumerye:
þe ymage of Mahoun y-mad of golde Wiþ þe axe smot he oppon þe molde,
þat al þat heued to-flente.
Sortybran of Combles com wyþ þaat, “Let of,” sayd he, “þou oundost þy stat;”
& of hym þe Axe he hente.

“Sire,” he said, “þow dost folye, To do Mahoun such vylonye
Ase þou dadest here;
For þou hauest y-schent ys face, Do makye hym betere þan a wace,
& amendem in þat manere.”
Saide þe Amyrel, “me þenkeþ ille þat he suffreþ my worschip spille
in tal þys countre wyde,
& suffrede Char[lis] þe brigge to pace, Mantrible to take & myn men to chace,
& to slen hem be euery syde.”

154

Sortybran sayde to þe Ameral þan: “Hastelyche, syre, let sende a man
þat soþe for-to aspye,
þat or þay neȝy to neȝ þys cost þat þow mowe come wyþ þyn host,
& fiȝte with hem an-hye.
þan schal þov þy worschip gete aȝe, And slen þe beste of þat meygne,
& take þe Emperour,
& lete don hym þanne an-honge, & wyþ hym þus þeues stronge
þat lyggeþ on þy tour.
And yf Fyrumbras may be take, þat haþ ys fayþ & ous for-sake,
let hym þat hed for-gon.
& Florippe þy doȝtre þat ys ounkynde, To a stake þan let hure bynde,
And bren hure þanne anon.”

þan þe Amyral hym vnderstod þat ilke consayl þoȝt hym god,
& saide it scholde be don.
Toward Mahoun he humblede him þan, And after þe conseyl of Sortybran
An aspye he sent anon.
To þe A[myral] Sortibran þo cam & sede “Let assembly þyn host, y rede,
ȝond be-fore þe tour;
& we schul fonde wyþ strengþe & gyne, If we mowe þe tour y-wynne,
or þaym come socour.
And if hit falleþ so by cas, þorȝ Ma[houns] help & ys gras,
þat we mowe him wynne
Or þe comyng of Charlemayn þe traytours þer schulle be sleyn,
& we be-leue with-ynne.
And beo þov on þy tour aȝee Of Char[lis] schalt þov noȝt ȝyue a stre,
for noȝt þat he may do.”
“By Ma[houn],” saide he, “þou sayst ful wel, And by þy counsail do y schal,
How so it euere go.”

þe Ameral het his hornes blowe, & þanne wente to armes heȝe & lowe,
Sarsynȝ & persaunt;
& þyder þan fette þe grete engyns Wel two hundred of Sarsyns,
by heste of þe Amerant.
A gret saut þay gunne to make, Summe þar schute wyþ boȝes of brake,
& summe wyþ gunnes grete;

155

& with þengyns summe caste stones, Mo þan twenty sum tyme at ones
floȝe out at one hepe.
So harde þay þrewe aȝen þe wal þat þe stones percede þorȝ-out al,
forty with-inne a stonde,
And succh a gappe þay made þer-on þat a cart onlade myȝt yn gon,
had it beo neeȝ þe grounde.

Ate þe wyndewes þanne stod Rolond & ys felawes by-syde him on eyþer hond,
Wel y-armed at o rout;
& þay seȝe Sa[r]ȝyns myne þe wal, Wyþ pykoys & howes gret & smal,
& wern al-most þorȝ-out.
þus barouns by-gunne hym þanne to doute, And casten to-gadre al aboute,
To kepe hem wyle þay moun.
Stones & trees þan out þay caste & þe Sarsyns þer-wyþ quellede vaste,
& made hem tumbly adoun

þe Ameral gan to crye þan: “Help now, Mahoun & Ternagan,
þat buþ my godes of myȝte!
And lordes,” a sayde, “now helpeþ ȝee, And sone we shulleþ han god entree,
As ȝe schul sen wyþ siȝte.
ȝyf we mowe now þe tour conquere ȝour worschip ȝe wynneþ & me for ere
To be ȝour frend at nede.
& þay þat doþ me þys deshonoure Hy schulleþ be an-honged or daȝes four,
& þat schal be hire mede.”

þay assaillede hem þanne wyþ many a gynne, & wyþ strengþe þay þoȝte þe tour y-wynne,
of castynge & mynyng eke.
And þaye þat þarto hardy were Laddres to þe walle bere,
for al þe dupe deke,
And sette þe laddres vp by þe walle þat was so broken & to-falle,
As ich ȝou raþer tolde,
Wyþ þe dyntes of þe stones: & þar þay gunne gon op at ones
Two hundred of hem y-tolde;
Ac þus lordes defendede hem welle, And huld hem out with strokes felle,
y-ȝyue with swerd & launce.
þan nyst þay noȝt what ys þe best for þe Sarsyns wer euere y-lyche prest,
to doun hem al greuance.

156

“What wille we don, my gode felawes?” Said Olyuer þanne on ys sawes,
“We buþ on grete drede:
We buþ her felawes tene, þat buþ doȝty men & kene,
to don al mannes dede.
Wende we out of þys clos, & go we fiȝte wyþ our foos,
ȝonder out on þe felde.
More worschip ous ys to daye þare, þan her by-twene þis walles bare
With deshonour ous aȝelde.”

By þat were stoȝen vp wyþ vygour An hundred Sarsyns oppon þe tour,
þat þay ne miȝte noȝt flitte.
þar þe was broke þay stode affrounte, And laide to frensche strokes rounde,
þat hure haberkes ritte.
Ac þis barons hymen gunne mete, Wyþ scharpe swerdes & axes grete,
& ȝeuen hem deþes wonde;
þer was non of hemen alle þat sone nas fulled doun of þe walle,
Ded riȝt to þe gronde.

Florippe, þat fayre mayde of prys, Clepede Neymes for he was wys,
And Geffray of Laungeuyne,
And Terry of Ardane sche dude also, & to hymen sayde þat burde þo:
“Herknyaþ, frendes myne:
Wolle ȝe lordes,” sayde sche, “þe ryche relyqes eft-sones y-se,
þat y ȝow schewede ones.
þe betere y hope ȝow may spede, & þe sykerer ben on al ȝour dede,
Hab ȝe hem seȝe eft-sones.”

“ȝea, for gode,” sayde þay þan, “Faire þe falle for alle wymman
For þy gode profre!”
þanne hure tornde þat mayde briȝt þar as þat schryn hym was ful riȝt,
& tok it out of a cofre:
y-come sche ys aȝen wel sone, & afforn hem þer sche hit haþ oundone,
& schewed hymen Aparenly.
Wan þe barouns had y-seȝen hem alle, On hure knes þay duden falle,
& cryde god mercy.

þat burde bryȝt þanne tok hem out, & knelyng þay kussede alle about
þe relyques with gret honour;

157

& prayede god þorw vertue of hem Schold sauye hem thar fro heþe men,
& sende hem sone socour.

And y-herde hure orysouns: þe wyle þay were on deuociouns,
Sareȝyns wer vp a-styȝe,
Wel two . C. at o trome, & an-heȝ to þe wyndowes wer y-come,
& in y-lepe wel nyȝe:
þe tour þay hauede y-take þo Nadde duk Naymes y-lope hem to,
As hit ful þorw grace,
With þe releques þat he þo bar Riȝt to wyndowes [þ]er þay war,
& schewede hem on hur face.
þorw þe vertue of þat syȝt þe Sarsyns þanne gunne waxe affriȝt,
þat abide þay ne durste,
Bote fullen a-doun of þe walle, & so heȝe þay fullen alle,
þat hure bodies al to-burste.
“Lordlynges,” quaþ neymes, “now mowe we knowe, þat þys buþ crystes relyqes owe,
by þis myracle here:
þat day we seeþ þys tresour fyn ne dar ous adrede of no Sarsyn
to don ous any dere.”

þys lordes were þanne conforted wel, ne dradde þay noþyng þan Amerel
ne non of al þe hepe;
For þe relyques þat þay haue Hem þoȝte þay were þan al saue,
Hem-selue fram hem to kepe.
Duk naymys þys relyques custe aȝene, & bitok hem þat mayde [briȝt] & schene,
& sche hem gan vp volde
On a cloþ of tarse, ryche & fyn, & suþe sche polte hem on þe schryn,
& bar hem vp an-holde;
And þan sche turnd aȝe ful ryȝt, Y-cloþed in golde þat schon ful briȝt,
To þus lordes cam sche there,
And Gyoun tok sche by þe myddel þan, & cust hum, & saide, “my dure lemman,
beo now of gode chere.”

At þe wyndowes as þay lokede out, þe Amyral þat stod among his rout.
be-hulde hire þat mayde fel.
Wan he hur saw wel sore hym nuyde, And sone þyderward þus he cryde,
“Doȝtre, y-se þe wel;

158

Certys y dude gret folye, Wan ich me dude on þe affye
To kepe my prysouns.
þe loue By-twene ȝou schal y breke, And of þe y schal beo a-wreke
& of alle þe ȝond glotons:
For þy dede þou schalt beo brent, And þay traytours schulleþ be schent,
Demembred lyme & lyþ.”
Florippe a staf on hur hond sche tok, & hym aȝen hure fader schoke,
þywyng hym þan þar-wyþ.

þe Amyral hys hornes let blowe þan, And þe assaut al nywe by-gan,
Sherply þanne an-haste.
Eyȝte & fourty Saraȝyns Made he go þo to þengyns,
Stones þer-wyth to caste.
Aȝen þe tour þay þrewe stones, Mo þan twenty floȝe out at ones
of þen-gyns as we rede:
Wyþ such an ayr fulle þay þan þat of þe tour þay affulde a pan
four feþeme on lengþe & brede.

þe barouns þanne gunne waxe a-gaste, To þe maumerye Ro[land] wende an-haste,
And Olyuer, and Ogeer,
& to þe mamettes þay buþ a-gon, Of golde y-maked and ryche ston,
þat was briȝt & cler;
With þe ymages grete & þykke Slen þay þenkeþ þe Sarȝyns wykke:
Ro[land] tok vp Mahoun,
And Olyuer tok vp ternagan, & Ogier Margot tok vp þan,
& bere hem to caste adoun.

To hure defense þay buþ a-gon, & euerech him dressede to caste anon,
& eymede þarto ymone:
On þe þyckeste presse þat þanne was þere, þay cast out þe mamettes alle yfere,
& a-filde þerwiþ hure fone.

Wan þe A[myral] y-saw ys godes to-flend, For sorwe was he ful neȝ y-schend,
Sykynges a made ynowe:
And sowȝnede, & wep, & ys hondes wrong, “Alas!” & “welaway!” was ys song,
& ful a-doun ofte y-sowe.

Sortybrant confortede him þan, And bad hym stonde vp as a man,
& lete of care and wo.

159

Tho was þe assaut y-leuyd clene, for þe Amyral was so fol of tene,
And ne miȝt noȝt tendy þer-to.
“Ay Mahoun,” quaþ þe A[myral] “whar ys þy myȝt? Why wolt þou suffry þys ounriȝt,
þat þay doþ þe þis day?
þyne fon me schendeþ & þe al-so, And þou ne takest no kepe þer-to,
þy miȝte ys al away.”

þan hym spak syre Sortybrant: “Wyt þat þe selue, syr Amyrant,
y schal þe saye why:
Bred & wyn, & corn plentee, & gold, & syluer haþ he send þe,
lordlyche to lyue þar-by;
Ac þou hym hauest foule myssayd, Whar-for he ne ys noȝt wel apayd,
of þyng þat he þe ȝaf.
And ȝut nast þou noȝt amended his harm, Of þat þat þou breke him heued & arm
ȝesterday wyþ a staf:
Suffre þar-fore til ate laste, þat ys malencolye ben apaste,
þat he berþ to þe.
þan schal þou haue al þy wille Of hymen þat haueþ i-don þe ille,
& þat þou schalt wel see.”

þe whyle þay speke of þys matere, Com þe deuel amonges hem there,
On lyknysse of Mahoun þere;
& sayde þanne to þe Amerel Wordes þat wern y-her[d] ful wel
to alle þat þar were

“Balaan, beo now glad & blythe, & tak þyn host to the swythe,
& assayle aȝen þe tour;
For þay wyþ-inne buþ neȝ of-þraste: þe tour þou schalt y-wynne anhaste,
& come to þyn honour.”
þan wax he glad & dude al-so & his hornes het he blowe þo
And so þay dude anon.
An hard assaut þo by-gan, non scherpere y-saw þer neuere man,
y-mad of flesche & bon.

Hure grete engyns þan þay bende, And grete stones þar-wyþ þay sende
to þe heȝe tour:

160

þe walles to-breke, & al to-crusschede, Oueral þar þe stones dusschede,
comynge with vygour:
Mynours ȝude & mynede þe wal, þe heȝe tour to maky hym fal,
& summe laddres bere,
& aboute þe wal þe laddres lede. God of heuene þe barouns spede!
In gret peril þan þay were.

þe assaut was huge and perillous, And þe cry oryble and hydous,
þat þe Sarȝyns made.
Sixtene pieces wer fulled to ground Of þe walles þat er were sond
Wyþ stones & slabbes sade.
Sarȝyns on laddres gunne vp steȝe, Wel thre hundred þan an heȝe,
To þe gappes buþ þay come,
& castem to entry in-to þe tour. Ac þys barons of gret honour
Aȝeyn hem buþ ynome;
With swerdes & axes scherp y-grounde þay affuldem with deþes wonde,
þar-to were þay boun:
Ech on oþer þan gan doun falle, & breke hure nekkes to peces smalle,
So dupe þay fulle adoun.

“Lordes,” sayde þanne þe gode Ogyer, “We ne buþ bot ten alone heer,
to defendye al þis flette:
Ac of al fraunce her ys þe flour, Do we þat no man in deshonour
of cowardyse ous moȝe arette.
By-holdeþ þys tour, þat er strong was, To-broken ys now in twenty plas,
wyþ gonnes & cast of gynne.
Ac by hym þat flechs of Marie tok, þe wyle þat lyf syt on my bok,
ne comeþ þer none with-inne:
þe whyle y may wylde with myn hond Corteyn my swerd, þat gode brond,
so Sarsyns schal y so cloute,
þat a cartful y schal sle me-self; And doþ ȝe al-so on ȝoure be-helf,
& holde we hymen with-oute.”

Ro[land] ys swerd þan gan be-holde, And Olyuer hys þat was so bolde,
þat boþe blody ware.

161

þan was þar non of al þe wacche þat ys herte ne by-gan to cacche,
& to fiȝte mad hem ȝeare.
By þat were Saraȝyns stoȝen vp al frechs, And wer come inward at hard & neychs
At a pan þat was broken;
Ac þys lordes hymen potte a-gayn, And habbeþ hem sone fylled & slayn
& þat hole aȝayn y-stoken.

“A lord,” sayde Florippe þan, “Sone worth ych a lost womman,
Wel neȝ þe tour ys take.
Wo worth þe tyme he was arerd, Of my deth y am afferd,
Lordes, for ȝour sake.”

Gwy of Borgoygne sayde þan: “Ne say þou so no more, lemman,
Y pray þe for þyn honour.”
“Syre,” sche saide, “y drede stronge For we dwelleþ her so longe,
& þar compþ ous no socour.
Y hopede lemman, by my lyf, To han y-beo þy weddid wyf,
& be cristned for þy sake.
þan scholdest þow of al þis lond be kyng, And y þy quene, my swete þyng,
& þy worldy make.”
Tharwyth sche made a long sykyng, And hadde þan y-falle in sowenyng,
Nad olyuer hure vp y-take.
þan was non þat mornynge nas Wanne þay hurde þat fayre of fas,
How dulfully sche spake.
Duk Naymes þo gan loky out, & saw comyng þe grete rout
of Charl[is] with his host
On a mounteyne wyþ gret bobance; þe baner knew he ful wel of fraunce
þat drowe toward þat cost.

“lordlynges,” sayde Naymes þan, “bliþe beþ & glade euery man,
& lustneþ god tydynge:
þat host of fraunce y seo her come Ful wel y haue it vndernome,
be þe baner þat y seo brynge.
þe baner ys yborn be-fore þe ferde, & þat host hym cometh afterwerde,
Al armed on armes briȝte.
þay spedeþ faste on hure maner, Wel fayne þay wolde þat þay wer her,
yt semeþ me be syȝte.

162

Of þat cost al þe feldes þay buþ al feld with spers & scheldes,
And wyþ men of myȝte.
þe Saraȝyns schulleþ to-morwe haue A carful iornee, as god me saue,
Longe or come þe nyȝte.”

þan hur spak þat made ȝyng: “y þonke god of þys tydyng,
& marie þy moder dere.”
Gwy tok sche be þe middel þan & custe hym & sayde, “gode lemman,
now am ich hol & fere.”

Now buþ þys barons alle blythe, & to þe wyndowes þay wente swythe,
& þyderward gun be-holde.
Char[lis] and ys host come þay seȝe, þe baner of france y-bore an-heȝe,
þan waxen hy ful bolde.

To þe A[merel] þe aspye aȝen ys went, Of wam y tolde þat was y-sent
To aspyen how it ware,
And telleþ hym how þat Charlemayn Wyþ ys host hym comeþ agayn
With hym to fiȝte ȝeare.

þanne hym askede þe Amerel: “Wyþ how many comeþ þe fauterel
Wyþ þe hore berde?”
“Sir,” quaþ he, “þar buþ y-tolde An hondred þousand of knyȝtes bolde
Comyng on ys ferde.”

Sorty brant sayde, “þer-of no drede, þow hast þe doble on þy ferede,
Ay tweyne aȝen hem one,
And þay habbeþ þe wrong & we þe riȝt; To-morwe we schulle wyþ hym fiȝt,
& discomfytye hymen echone.”

Charlys rod forth wyþ ys host, Til he cam neghȝ þe cost,
Thar þe Ameral lay;
& wanne a saw ys pauyllouns Abide bad he hys barouns,
No ferþer nolde he þat day.
The nyȝt was come, þe day was gon, þe Emperour him liȝt a-doun anon,
Vnder an Aychs y wene,
þat stod þe same playn oppon, þer þat þe Amerel his host lay on,
y-loged on a grene.

163

Thar herborghede þe kyng & ys barouns, Wyþ-oute tentes oþer pauyllouns,
Al þat ilke nyȝte.
For at Mantrible þay hadde y-laft Tentes, pauyllons, & al þat craft,
þat þer-to scholde be diȝte.

Ne dude no man þar of ys gere, Bot al nyȝt leyen y-armed ther
On armes of god entaile.
Hure stedes þai fedde with otes & bred, & hym-self dronke whit wyn & red,
& eten of hure vytaile.

On þe morȝnyng wan þe day him sprong, Charlis ȝeode ys host among,
& het þay scholden diȝte,
Boþe man & hors on such aray As þay wende at al asay
beo syker ynow to fiȝte;
& þan behuld he aboute þe plas, & clepede til him sire Fyrumbras,
& þus he spak him tille:—
“Fyrumbras, y loue þe for-þan þat þou art bycome a criste-man
by þy gode wille:
Wolde þy fader cristendom take y Wolde him kepe for þy sake,
lost-les on euery syde:
Harm ne schold he haue non, On body ne catel, by seynt ion,
for al þe worlde wyde,
Notheles he haueþ y-do me wrong, My messagers i-holde in prysoun strong,
þat y sent hym yore;
Ro[land] and othere þat buþ me luf; & þoȝ y now do hym gref,
Beo noȝt wroþ þerfore.”

þanne hym ansuerede Sir Fyrumbras: “Send to my fader in þys cas,
Ys wille to wyte & knowe,
If he wolde assenty þar-to; Leuere me were hit myȝt be so,
þan al þat god y owe.”

“Y grante wel,” quaþ þe Emperer; With þat he clypede duk Reyner,
& Rychard of Normaundye,

164

And askede of hem wham þay wil rede þat he schold sende on þat nede,
To þe Amerel of nubbye:
“If ȝe lordes willeþ assenty þar-to, Gweynes schal myn eraunt do,
for he ys fers and fel;
At þe takyng of Mantrible toun He bar hym as a bold baroun,
& prouede him þar ful wel.”

Gweynes iherde þe kynges sawe, And sayde a wolde wende fawe,
& perfornye wel þat nede:
& þaye assentede on hym ȝeare þat Gwenes schudde to Ameral fare,
þat erand for-to bede.

To hym þanne saide þe kyng of fraunce: “Arme þe wel for alle chaunce,
þyderward er þou wende;
For þoȝ þe Amyral be our fo, Til hym þe message þou most do,
þat y schal þe sende.
Say hym þat he his lay for-sake, & to cristendom him-silue take,
& lyue on god Almiȝte;
& þat he delyuery me my barouns bolde þat he haþ kept on ys holde,
long tyme aȝe þe riȝte,
And delyuery me vp on god aray þe Relyqes þat he bar away,
In Rome my Citee gret;
þe nayles three, & þe croune, þat perschede cryst on ys passyoune,
On hefd, honde, and fet:
And if he wil assenty þar-to, non harm þanne ne wyl y do
To hym ne non of hys.
And yf a wil noȝt as god me saue, Vengeaunce of hym wil y haue,
& loke þou say hym thys.”

To Charlis þanne saide Gweneloun: “þy message schal be wel y-don,
Sone with-oute drecche.”
Ys helm on is hed sone he caste, And let him lacye wel & faste,
& ys swerd me dude hym fecche.
A lep vp þanne on ys hors of werre, And takeþ til hym scheld & sperre,
Strong & god at nede.
Oþer felaschip ne takeþ he non, Bot rydeþ forþ hym-self al-on,
To do þat hardy dede.

165

As Gweynes hym prikede ouer þe feldes, He meteþ Sarsyns with speres & scheldes,
þat kepte þe wacche þan:
þay askede of hem þanne an-haste, Why he prykede so wonder faste,
& wyder he þoȝte gan.

“Y am a Messager,” quaþ Gweneloun, “Y-send to þe A[meral] by Charloun;”
& þanne þay lete hym fare.
Neuere ne astente he after þan, Bote prykeþ hym forth be-fore Balan,
yn-to ys pauylloun ȝeare.
Gweynes was boþe hardy & wys, To þe Ameral spak he his avys,
ne sparede he for no doute.
“Balan,” said he, “to me entende. Charlis kyng to þe me sende,
to wham þou most aloute.
Mahoun he hoteþ þat þow for-sake, And anon riȝt to folloȝt take,
& by-lyue on god almiȝte.
Ys barons als þou scholdist him ȝelde, And þe relyqes þat þou dost helde,
Al agayn þe riȝte.
& if þou assentist to þys sonde, He ne wol no þyng of þy londe,
bote lete þe in pes & reste;
& euere he wol the worschip do, & Fyrumbras þy sone wol al-so,
þe wyle ys lyf wil leste.
& bot þou her-of make þy fyn, He diffieþ þe and alle þyn,
for with þe wil he fiȝte,
& discoumfity þe her & þy ferede, & putte þy body to schentful dede,
for þy grete onriȝte.”

Wanne þe Ameral hym vnderstod, A clew ys heued, and riȝte ys hod,
& starede with ys eȝene wronge,
& prauncede & blew as he were wod, & miȝt noȝt speke for his heȝe mod,
or was after longe.
And þan saide he to Gweneylloun: “How wer þou so hardy, stronge feloun,
come armed on þy stede,
By-fore me her on my pauylloun, & þus vylayn[i]che on þy resoun
þy message to me abede?
By Mahoun, on wham my be-lyue ys an, þou ne comest neuere,” saide Balan,
“to Charlemayn aȝene.”

166

To his barouns þan cride he loud—“To-heweþ þes messager þat ys so proud,
Wyþ swerdes scherpe & kene.”

Gweynes þanne hym gan to doute, Wanne he saw to hym-ward route
Saraȝyns stronge & smerte;
A drow ys swerd & smot Bruyllant, þat was kyng of Mountmyrrant,
euene in-to þe herte;
þe Saraȝyn þat was of gret renoun At þe Amyral is fet hym fel adoun;
& Gweynes turnde hym þanne,
And rod out of þe pauylloun þorw al þat host with gret rendoun,
As faste as he may renne.

þe Amyral ran after hym on ys fet, And cryde to ys host with herte gret—
“Takeþ þan þef an-haste.”
To horse þanne wente at o trome Fyfty þousant of armede gome,
& after hym prykede vaste.

At a wyndowe of þe tour stod Neymoun, And saw how þay enchacede Gweneloun,
To slen him if þay myȝte;
Ro[land] þan clypeþ he & Olyuer: “Sirs,” quaþ Neymes, “comeþ ner,
And seeþ a propre siȝte;
Fro þe ȝond pauyllons prykeþ a knyȝt, An-horse, y-armed, & weel y-dyȝt,
Wyþ a drawe swerd an-honde;
& hym chacyeþ Sarsyns, by god almiȝt, Wel fifty þousant y-armed briȝt,
To slen him doþ þay fonde.
Me symeþ it ys a Messageer, And Gweynes hit semeþ be siȝte her,
þat rideþ þar al-one.”
“Parfay,” quaþ Ro[land], “þow saist þat soþe, þat knowe hym wel & ys stede boþe,
god kep hym fram ys fone!”
Alle þay gunne þan god to praye, þat scholde hym coundye on ys waye,
& saflyche aȝen hym sende.
Ac for þay wern for hym in doute, þey by-hulden him ȝerne & lokede oute.
Wyte þay wolde þan ende

Forth hym prykeþ sir Gweneloun Opon ys stede Chacebroun,
To-ward ys strengþe an hye;
And þe Saraȝynȝ after him prikede . þanne Ase harde as hure hors miȝt renne,
With noyse & eke with crye,

167

Gweynes fleȝ forþ so wynd and rayn Til he cam neȝ amydde þe playn,
& wiȝtliche he turnd him þanne,
And smot a Sarsyn of Agrymoun, þorȝ ys hed he clef hym doun,
In-to ys brest a spanne.
Wyþ tenebre he meteþ & suþþe anoþer, þat on was cosyn, þat oþer was brother
To þe Amyral Balanne.
Tenebre gurde he þorȝ þe brayn, þat oþer in þe herte with miȝt & mayn,
And forþ he prykeþ þanne.

Gweynes was boþ strong and feer, And ofte he tornde hym in þis maner,
& slow al þat he raȝte.
& eft he prikede on ys way, And wan Ol[yuer] þat al þys cas y-say
Y-saw how wel he faȝte,
To Roland said he þanne ryȝt: “How þeynt þe, felawe, be þis knyȝt
þat berþ hym þus wel al-one?
Ne saw y neuere o man with my syȝt, Saf þe bere hym betere in fyȝt,
by god þat sit in trone.
Now wold it god on þys nede, þat y were by hym on my stede,
Baucyn of Melaunt.
þan schold y make hure sydes blede, An hundred of hem þer scholde be dede,
Of Sarsyns & persaunt.”

Of hys doȝtynisse myche þay speke, Ac euere þe Saraȝyns after hym reke,
To slen hym was hure mod:
Ac wan þay þat frensch host of-seyn, þay wern agast & tornde aȝeyn,
prykynge as þay were wod:
To þe Ameral þay come sone þas, & tolde þat soþe how it was,
of þe Messager & of þat host;
And þat Char[lis] hadde on his ferede An hundred þousant on a mede,
þat lay thar neȝ þe cost.
“Let ordeyn þyn host þar-for anon, þat þay beo araid euerechon
In armes for-to fiȝte.”
þe Ameral het þanne his hornes blowe, & þat alle wer y-armed in a throwe,
& to batayl y-redy hem diȝte.

þanne com be-fore þe Amerel ther, Fro ys broþer a Messager,
& told hym þys tydynge,

168

þat ys broþer, sir Bryuyllaunt, þat was kyng of heȝ persaunt,
Wyþ ys host was comynge,
Wyþ an hondred þousent persauncȝ, To helpe him aȝen þe kyng of frauncȝ,
And eke aȝeyn ys host.
þan wax þe Amyral glad & blythe, And þankede Mahoun an hundred syþe,
& gan to blowe bost.
His stede tok he þanne an haste, & aȝen ys broþer wende he faste,
With oþre þat he gan banne.
& wan þay were to-gadre y-met, Spillyng of speche þar was gret
y-mad bytwene hem þanne.
For Char[lis] þay saiden scholde be slawe, And Fyrumbras ys sone an-honged & drawe,
& Flo[rippe]schold be for-brent,
And Char[lis] host discoumfyted & slayn; Thus þay talkede be-twene hem tweyn,
As þay to-gadre went.

Wanne hire hostes were to-gadre y-come, þanne was ther an huge trome,
iij hundred þousent & mo.
Four dyuers tonges of Saraȝyns, Persans, torkys, and Arrabyns,
And Affrycans al-so:
Ful huge was þanne þassemblee. On thyrty partyes to-delede he
Ys Saraȝyns þe Amerel.
now god to þe cristene take kepe, For þay ne habbeþ on hure hepe,
bote þe þridde del!

Now ys Gweynes come aȝeyn, & telleþ ys lord, kyng Charlemeyn,
to-gadre betre & werse,
þat þe Amerel ne dredeþ hym noȝt, Nouþer in dede ne in þoȝt,
þe value of a kerse.
& þat wanne he spak of crystendom, How he spatte & fyede þar-on,
& wolde hym hab y-sleyne.
And how he slow kyng Bruyllant, þat was kyng of mount-myrrant

169

A-forn ys owen eyne:
& þorȝ ys host al how he passede, & how þe Saraȝyns hym þanne chacede,
& how he awayward rende;
& how ofte he turnde aȝeyn, & slow of þe Saraȝyns þat chacede hym þeyn,
xxxti as he wende.

Charlis swer by Milde marye, þat þe A[myral] & hyse þus scholde abye,
or þe sonne hure fulle.
& þanne he clepede ys conseyl, And departede his host on .v. batail,
to-Riȝt as y wil ȝow telle:
Richard he takeþ on to lede, Anoþer to Reyner, god of rede,
to G[weneloun] tok he þat þridde;
Geffray Hautefuelle he tok þe furþe, þe fifþe to him-selue þat most was werþe,
& held hem þar amydde.

þe Amyral þan spak to þat kyng: “Broþer, said he, þow most do þyng,
þat y schal þe saye.
þow schalt beo þe furste þat schal gon Wyþ þyn host aȝen our fon,
Ac o þyng y þe praye:
Ac if þou metest wyþ Charlemayn, Loke for noþyng þat he be slayn,
As þou louest myn honour.
For in-to Aufryke schal he be lad, Wyþ þe oþre þat me habbeþ sory mad,
þat liggeþ her on my tour.”

þay ensemblede þanne to-gadre anon, þe Sarsyns blewe hure hornes ecchon,
to batail or þay paste.
Ac by-fore alle prikede Bruyllant, For prude & for-to make auaunt,
Wel a stones caste;
And þanne he cryde and gan to sayn: “Whar art þow, Char[lis], þow vylayn?
Wat dost þov yn þis lond.
In yuel tyme dudest þow pace Mantrible brigge, & oure men chace,
þou abiest it with myn hond.
þyn host þys day schal beo ded, And þow schal luse þyn hore hed
for þy fol outrage.

170

& suþþe schulle we with strengþe of hond, Wende in-to fraunce & conquere þy lond,
& al þyn heritage;
þorȝ-out þy lond schal beo no page þat ys xij ȝer y-holde of age,
So Ma[houn] me mote amende,
þat he ne schel ȝelde til ous truwage, Four floryns of gold of god coygnage
Euery ȝer to rente.”

Wan Charlis y-herde how he sayd, He tok (?) as him ful wel arayd,
Blanchard he made sterte,
And prykede to hym wyþ a spere; & þorw þe scheld & armure he hym gan bere,
& þorw hys body him gerte.
þe schaft was god & with-oute lak, And huld forþ styf, and noȝt ne brak,
& he hit drow out with strengþe:
And rydeþ aȝen þe kyng Iustyn, Of Torkye was he a strong Sarsyn,
An huge man of lengþe;
Scheld ne haberke ne halp hym noȝt þat ys sper ys herte ne soȝt,
þorȝ ys body and al:
þe kyng ful ded of ys sadel y-gylt, And with þat strok þat sper was spylt,
& brak to peces smal.
& þanne drow he ys swerd of Steel, & meteþ wyþ Gargayn & hit hym weel
On þe nekke with mayn.
þoȝ ys auentaille were strong & god, He smot þo of boþe hefd & hod,
þat al ful on þe playn.

Rychard ys horn þanne herde blew, Roland hyt hurde, þat soun he knew,
& gan to busky hym þenne.

171

Ful wel wiste he by þat soun þat ys vncle kyng Charloun
Ys batayl had by-gunne.
Glad was Rolond þanne and blythe, Ys felawes clepede he tyl hym swythe,
& telleþ hem so anon.
þan waxe þayre hertes lyȝte, & sone þay buþ yn armes dyȝte,
Sykyr ynow euerechon.

Charlys & hyse þat were wyþ-oute þe Saraȝyns ȝerne þay gunne to cloute,
er þay come of þe tour.
Al þat Charlis wyþ ys swerd arauȝte Hit ful doun ded at o drauȝte,
So gret was his vygour.
þanne by-gan muche noyse & cry, þe frensch fyȝte to-gadre egrely
Alle þat þar were,
Boþe of Sarsyns and frensche men, Alle þey wende to-gadre þen,
& foȝte y-same þere.

þat batayl þo by-gan wonder fel, Ac þat frenchs host bar hym wel,
Wyþ speres & swerdes y-grounde.
To Sarsyns habbeþ þay ȝyue anon Of sturne strokes wel god won,
& mad hem grysly wounde.
Gret slaȝt was þar on hure syde, In þe feld leye þay. with wondes wyde,
þat arst wer prout on pres.
Moche was þe blod þat þar was schad, And many a wydewe þar was mad,
And many child faderles.

With þat coms in a Saraȝyn fier, Tenebre, þat was kyng of Byer,
On ys helm he bar þe croun,
& dude þe frensche host gret damage, Why hys puple þat was sauage,
ful many þay fulde adoun.

172

Oure cristen men hadde þay put abak Nadde þay comen þat y of spak,
þe barouns þat wer so preste;
Rolond, Olyuer and Naymoun, And alle þe doþþepers þan come adoun,
Al y-armed in þe beste;
Stedes ne toke þay wiþ hem non, For ynowe þay founde withoute gon,
A-strayey on þe grene.
þan out of þe tour þay goþ echon, And euerech of hem haþ tak on,
& sone werþ vp y wene.

To þys barouns of gret honour Florippe, þat þanne lefte on þe tour,
Cryinge gan to sayne!
“ȝe lordes of fraunce þat buþ þe flour, Kepeþ wel Gyoun my paramour,
& bryngeþ him me aȝeyne.”
To batayl faste þan gunne fonde, With scheldes enbraced, & spers an-honde,
þay dude her hors to gone.
Wan þay ynto þe batayl entred were, Sone þus habbeþ þorw gon there
þe scheldtromes of þaire fone:
And alle þe Sarsynȝ þat þay gunne mete To gronde þay laid hem with dentes grete,
y-ȝyuen with spers kene.
þar was non of hure helue þat nadde a-slawe mo þan twelue,
þat leyen þer on the grene.

Wan hure speres by-gunne to faile, Hure swerdes þay drowe of god entaile,
& laid on þan with mayne;
Wyth strokes þat fullen as a foþer þay laid doun Saraȝyns ech on oþer,
Ded ryȝt on þat playne.
þe Sarȝynȝ floȝen hem for hure prow, Suche þat arst were hardy ynow
to abide er þay come:
For hure strokes fulle so sare, þat Alle þat þay raȝte, lasse & mare,
Hure deþ þan þay nome.

173

Al-so floȝe þe Sarȝyns Rolond Wan þay aparceuede ys heuy hond,
So sperhauk doþ þe larke.
For al þat þorw his hondes crep To deþe he dyngede hem doun to hep,
With strokes sterne & sterke.
Alle þe feldes þan wern y-fuld Wyþ þe Sarsyns þat wern y-kuld
In þat batayl wykke;
þorw-out al þe feldes wyde þat blod ran doun in euery syde,
In stremes grete & þykke.
Discoumfyt flowe þe remaynant, & after hem prikede duk Rolant,
& Olyuer his felawe;
Ac or þay afferrede hem oȝt myche þen Mo þan an .C. of þe heþemen
Had hy tweyne a-slawe.

Wan þe Amerel þat cas y-seȝ Sorwe ȝeode ys herte neȝ,
To Ma[houn] he gan to mene:
“Ay ” saide he, “syre Mahonet, Lyte loue schewest þou me ȝet,
þow hast for-ȝete me clene.”
He saw ys folk faste fleoynge, & frensche men after hem faste prykynge,
þat with swerdes layde hem doun.
Ys swerd adrow he anon riȝt þanne, & prikede ys stede & he gan renne
To howel of seynt Miloun.
þe Sarȝyn, þat was fers & smert, howel oppon þe helm he gert
With his swerd with mayne;
þorw helm, & coyphe, & bacynet, þe swerd goþ forþ wyþ-oute let,
& sank in-to ys brayne;
He ful doun ded þar al-so hot. & to Gauter beaufylȝ þanne a smot
A strok þat was ys deþ,
Riȝt on þe heued anoneward, & clef ys helm þoȝ he war hard,
& ys hed in-to þe teþ.
Geffrey of Parys smot he als, And gurde his heued fro þe hals,
& Fourcheere sloȝ he þanne.
Charlis it seȝ & wax ful wroþ, & prikede Blaunchard & to him agoþ,
As faste as he may renne.

þan Char[lis] . a strok til hym gan mynte; Ac hym faylede of ys dynte,
for þat swerd hym glente

174

By-twene ys scheld & ys for arsoun; Ac þe sadel & þe stede clef he al doun,
þorw-out al yt wente:
þe stede ful doun on peces tweye; þe Ameral dradde þan to ben a-sleye,
or he aryse myȝte,
Ac sone sterte he vp of þe forȝ, And Char[lis] stede a gerde þorȝ,
þat was so fair of siȝte.
þe stede was ded & ful adoun, On fote stert vp þo Charloun,
Raply al on hete,
& wyþ ys drawe swerd an-honde Alayd on þe Ameral wyþ þat bronde,
& ȝaf hym dyntes grete.

On fote þanne foȝte þys princes boþe, And alyde on strokes wilde & wroþe,
With hure swerdes kene.
þe A[meral] was heȝere þan Charlys was þe amountance of a fotes spas
& sum-wat more y-sene.
Ac ay faȝt Charlis wyþ herte god, And þe Ameral egerliche him withstod,
& Foule with hym gan fare;
Such strokes Charlis of hym haþ hent þat scheld & haberke þer-with was rent,
& he was wounded sare.

þan Char[lis] by-gan to waxe wroþ, & ful sterneliche til hym agoþ
& a strok on ys hed a-sett
Wyþ ys swerd of style broun: þe cercle on ys helm he bar adoun
þer-wiþ with-oute lette,
& of ys helm away he bar A quarter & of ys cheke a schar
Myche of þat oþer syde,
& þan on ys schelde ful þe dent, & endelonges he hym to-rent,
ȝut gan he ferþer glyde.
be ys iambeaus forþ he swarf & ys oþer spore þanne he carf,
Adoun riȝt by the hele;
In-to þe erthe a fot and mare Ran þat swerd þat cam so sare,
þat was y-mad of steele.

Charlis to þamerel þan gan sayn: “ȝeld me þe relyqes vp agayn,
þat þou with-halst of myne,
& beo cristned and þat Anon, Oþer elles þov schalt þyn hefd forgon,
To morwen or y wil dyne.”

Wanne þe Ameral hym vnderstod, For teone wax he almost wod,

175

& to hym he sterte,
And smot to him a strok with mod With ys swerd ful scherp and god,
& on þe helm hym gerte.
Ac fram þe helm þat swerd him glente As þat Char[lis] cornel þar-wyþ to-flente,
& þe dynt ful on ys schelde,
And þe stronge scheld þer-wyþ to-rente; Ac ȝut þe strok ys ferþer wente,
noþyng þe dynt ne athelde,
And ful opon ys genyllere, & bar away ys chauceore,
Of yre & styl y-mad.
boþe ys spores a-doun he schar In-to þe erthe two fet & mar,
þe strok þat was so sad.
Wyþ þe schakyng þat he gan make þo Ys swerd to-brak on peces two,
& þan gan he to doute.
Ac al þat was of ys swerd y-leued Caste he þanne aȝe Char[lis] heued,
& an anlas þo droȝ oute,
And egerlyche to Charlis ran And hente hym by þe nekke þan,
& foygnede hym with þat knyf:
Nad he be y-armed þe betere y wys, & rathe to him come socour of hys,
he had him be-nome ys lyf.

Ac þer komen on companye, Roland & Rychard of Normandye,
Olyuer & Ogyer,
And myche of hys oþer baronye, And departede hymen twye:
& þan A[meral] þo toke ther,
& to þe erthe þanne hem caste; Olyuer wyþ a corde bond him fast,
Ac arst was muche ado:
To Hardree had he a strok y-ȝyue Wyþ ys fuste, and al to-dryue
Ys chekbon neȝ a-two:
Nad his auentaile y-beo þat heel, France had þo be delyured weel
of a ful traytrous man;
For wyþ þe strok had he beo ded, & þan hadde muche harm be aled,
þat ful þo after þan.

With þat com prikynge sir Fyrumbras And saw ys fader on þe plas,
y-bounde honde & fet:

176

“Fader,” sayd he, “þow dost folye þat þow ne wolt þyn herte abye
To Char[lis] þat ys so gret;
Y rede þow do as he wil saye, & þanne for þe wol y praye
þat he schal þe kepe & saue.
& al þy londes & þyn honours, & alle þy castels & alle þy tours,
Aȝeynward schaltou haue.”

“Hold þe stille,” sayde he þan, “Art þow bi-come a crystenman?
Ma[houn] do þe wrake!
& if y my power rekuuere aȝe, Wel heȝe schalt þou an-honged be,
Whar þou mowe beo y-take.”

Wanne Fyrum[bras] y-herde how he tolde, For hym ys herte sat ful colde,
Ac no more ne saide þo:
for þat ys fader by hym wolde noȝt, Ne of his counsail noþynge ne roȝt,
On his herte hym was wo.
Sone þas was þar a mule y-fet, And þe Amerel was ther-on y-set;
To Char[lis] was broȝt a stede,
þe kyng lep on hym fayr & wel, & ledeþ wyþ hym þan Amerel,
þat dulful was þo for drede;
In-to Egrymoygne he hadde hym þen, Wyþ twenty þousant of frensche men,
þe remanaunt by-lafte he þare,
Fyȝtyng oppoun hure enemys, Affry cans, Persantȝ and tourkys,
þat sone were broȝt in care.

Wanne þe Sarsyns y-seȝe þat cas þat þe Amerel yn þe feld y-take was,
& so y-lad hem fro,
þay floȝe away on euery syde, þar was non þat þerste abyde,
Hure song was, “welewo.”
Ac Roland and hys companye Broȝte hym in aȝen an hye
& faste þay sloȝe hure fon;
Fram was non til þe nyȝte Ne cessede þay neuere for to fiȝte
bot euere so layd hem on.

By þat þe nyȝt hym was y-come, þe Sarsyns were slawe al & some,
þat þay myȝt of take.
þe frenschemen þanne to hure herburghes wende, And of þe mete and drynke þat god hem sende, Muryeþay dude hem make.

177

On þe morwe wan þe sonne schon, Char[lis] of-sente ys barons ecchon,
And among hem departeþ þanne
Of þat gold & of þat geryȝoun þat he fond on þe tour & on þe toun,
Y-now to euery manne.
An Archebysschop he clepede after þaat, And bad hym ordeyne an huge vaat,
Ful of water clere;
And his orysouns saye oppon, As he wolde fully ther-on
þan Amyral þat was þere.
þe Bysschop wente aboute sone þe kynges heste for-to done,
for þat hym þoȝte god;
& wan he had al aboute y-soȝt, To a gret holw marbre was he broȝt,
þat wyþ-ynne þe paleys stod;
Whych was wonyd beo fillid wyþ wyn At euerech gret feste of appolyn,
þat þe A[meral] holde wolde:
Wyth water was fulled þo þat ston, And þe bysschop hit blessede anon,
as Char[lis] het he scholde.

þe Emperour het come his baronage, That þer was þanne wel sauage,
to seen þat selcouþ syȝte.
And suþþe of-sente he after þan After þe Ameral, syre Balan,
be barons threo wel wyȝte,
Roland, Olyuer, and Ogyer; þilke thre þo fette hym ther,
& broȝt hym forþ anon,
by-fore þe emperour þat hym abod And he het anon þar as he stod,
Dispoily hym by-fore þe ston.

Wan þay by-gunne ys cloþys of-do Myche strif made þe Amerel tho,
And tornde & wende faste,
Ac Roland and Olyuer hulde hym so, That whather he wolde oþer no,
ys cloþys of thay caste.

þe Emperour sayde to hym þan—“þou schalt ben a crysteman,
& ben y-follyd here;
And if þou wolt þer-to beo broȝt, Of þyne ne schalt þow lese noȝt,
þe worthy of a pere:
Ac arst þou most for-sake Mahone, And be-lyue on gode sone,
þat in marye y-kened was;

178

& suþþe of hure body y-bore, Wyþ-oute wem & wyþ-oute hore,
As sunne goþ þorȝ þe glas.
þow most al-so be-lyue thus, þat he suffrede deþ for vs,
To kepe ous fram helle pyne;
& þat he a-ros þe þridde day, And to helle tok þo þe way,
And delyuerede þar is hyne;
And þat he þer-after to heuene steȝ, & syt on ys fader riȝt hond an-heȝ,
& ys in trynytee:
And suþþe sente þe holy gost To ys decyples he louede most,
And het men y-fulled bee:
þou most byleue on holychurche, After hure lawe for-to wurche,
And on for-ȝyft of synne;
And on þe dredful domes-day, Wan ech man schal rysen on such aray
As he dayeþ ynne,
And come be-fore god present, And fonge ther ys iuggyment,
to ioye oþer pyne to wende,
After þat þat hy doþ heere, Body & saule to dwelle y-fere,
Euere wyþ-outen ende,

Bylyf þou as y haue þe tauȝt, And on þys water tak fullauȝt,
& þys schal beo þy mede;
þy body and þy catel þan myȝt þou saue, And heuene blisse al-so haue,
If þou dost þat dede.”

Wan þe Amerel haþ iherd hym telle, Contenance made he fers & felle,
& fram hym tornde away:
And bytok hym-selue þe deuel of helle, If he wolde euere wyþ folloȝt melle,
Terme of ys lyues day;
Ne Mahoun wolde he neuere for-sake, For drede of deþ ne for þe wrake,
to be ded þer for þe riȝte.
For Angre sake þanne he swatte, & þan ston a cracchede & in a spatte
In dispit of god almyȝte.

Wan þe Emperour y-hurd him speke so, Wonderly wroþ þan wax he þo,
Ys swerd þan gan he draȝe;
Ne hadde Fyrumbras ys sone y-ben þat þo wente hem be-twen,
A wold him haue a-slaȝe.

179

Fyrumbras huld þan Emp[er]our, And prayede him cesse of his rauncour,
& he wolde eft asaye,
If he miȝte wyþ any colour Brynge him ȝut of his errour,
In-to þe betere waye.

þanne spak Florippe, þat burde bryȝt—“Syr Emperour, þov dost noȝt aryȝt,
To tarye þus for ys sake.
ȝe hadde don wel, by god almyȝt, Had ȝe do slen him ȝesternyȝt,
Wan þat he was take.”

þe Emperour huld ys swerd an-honde, And askede aȝen whar he wil fonde
to lyue on cristes lay,
And Mahon ys false god for-sake, And crystendom þar by-fore hym take
Wyþ-oute more delay:
& if a wolde, þat hit were so, A wolde be ys frend for euere-mo,
On what lond þat he lende;
And þat he nel by-nyme hym lond ne fee, Bot euere scholde beo to hym pryuee,
In-to ys lyues ende.

þan Fyrum[bras] ys sonne hym sette on knen By-fore ys fader & cryede aȝen—
“Mercy, fader,” he sayde,
“Swete fader, do hys lykyng, And ne make þer-of no more taryyng,
for gode loue y pray þe.
And þan myȝtou haue al þyn Awe, And libbe þy lyf on godes lawe
& kepe þe so fro sore;
And þilke þat buþ now þyn fon Wolleþ þe louye euerechon,
& worschypy þe euere-more.”

“Y graunte,” quaþ he þan “haue y-saied How þat þys water ys arayed,
þat y schal plungy on.”
þan was Fyrumbras glad & blythe, And þankede god ful many a sythe,
& broȝte hym to þe ston,
Charlis þanne hym wax ful glad, And hopede a wolde be christen mad,
So wern þe oþre barouns.
þe bysschop stod þer þo þat had Y-blessed þe fant, and ouer y-rad
Alle ys orysouns.

þe bysschop sayde to þe Ameral þan—“If þou wilt ben a crysteman,
Mahoun þou most for-sake,

180

Aller-ferst by-fore ous here, And suþþe stape in-to þis water clere,
þan schaltou fulloȝt take.”
þe A[meral] þan wroþeliche hym gan beholde, And gurde hym with ys fuste y-volde,
Ageyn ys cheke an-haste,
þat þre teþ sterte out of þe bon, & nadde Ogyer þo by-twene hem gon,
He wolde him habbe of-þraste.

þanne saide þe Ameral with egre mod—“Wat wenestow, glotoun, þat ich be wod,
Schold y for-sake my driȝte,
And beo plunged on þys marbre ston?” In dispyt of cryst þan spat he þer-on,
by-fore hure Aldre syȝte.

þo wax Charlys wonder grym, And clepede Fyrum[bras] & spak to hym,
In þe maner as y schal sayne:—
“Fyrumbras, as þow art me lef, Ne tak yt noȝt to no gref,
þoȝ y putte hym to is peyne,
Suþþe he wil noȝt christened be, Bot haþ now in dispyt of me
My bysshop y-bete sore:
And afterward, in þe dyspyt of crysst, Spet on þe fant as þow her sysst,
ne pray þow for hym no more.”

Wan Fyrumbras herd hym speke so, For ys fader þanne hym was so wo
He nyste wat þo to done:
Bote by-fore hym on ys knes a cryde þat a wolde ȝut a-byde
Wyþ hym til eft-sone,
þat he hym hadde eft by-soȝt, & bot if he þanne wold take fulloȝt,
As he hym wolde abette,
Hys wille wyþ hym do a scholde & gurde of his heued ȝyf a wolde,
No lenger wold he him lette.

To þe Emperour saide florippe þan—“Wy tariest þou so longe wyþ þat man,
þat haþ þe & þyne agreued?
Al ys for noȝt ȝe A-boute goes, ȝe ne bringeþ him neuere to ȝoure purpos,
y leye þer-to myn heued.”

Til hure þan saide sir Fyrumbras—“Sustre ne ys he þy fader; alas!
Tak of hym pytee:
He þe gat & forþ þe broȝte. Thar-for ert þow mys-byþoȝte,
To procury hym to slee.

181

Wyþ wilde hors mot y beo drawe, Bot y wolde her riȝt fawe
A lyme of me for-gon,
Wyþ þat he y-folled wolde bee On þat water þat here [ȝe] see
standyng her on þys ston.”
Wyþ þat he wep & syȝte sore, As he þanne stod hym by-fore,
& þus til hym gan telle—
“Swete fader, chaunge þy þoȝt, And elles þow worst to deþe y-broȝt,
þan goþ þy saul to helle.
And if þow wolt be y-fulled heer þar-of þanne ert þow . skeer,
& heuene myȝt þou craue.
And leue lordlich on þyn owe, And habbe at þyn heste heȝe & lowe,
As þou wer woned to haue.
And ther-for, swete fader myn, [Fo]rsak Mahoun and Appolyn,
þat buþ noȝt worþ a flye;
And be-lyf on cryst, and cristned be, And þanne schalt þow þryue & þe,
& god lyf schalt þou drye?”

“Sone,” sayde þe Amerel þan, “By Mahoun þou art a nycy man,
þat þou dost me rede
To by-lyue on such a mon þat was on a croys y-don,
for ys owe mysdede.
Y diffye hym her and alle hyse, By Mahoun y nolde ȝyue a pyse,
for cryst ne al ys myȝte.
Nel y neuere on hym be-lyue, Ne beo y-fulled on my lyue,
to dye þarfore her riȝte.”
Wan þat Fyrumbras y-knew ys þoȝt, & þat he ne myȝt hym turnne noȝt,
On herte hym lekid ille.
To kyng Charlys sayde he þan—“Doþ now syre by thys man
As it is þy wille;
Certys y ne haue now no wonder þoȝ ȝe hym do hewe ech lyme on sonder,
þorȝ-out flechs & bon,
Suþþe he wil noȝt for no pray Belyue on god & for-sake ys lay
Ne folloȝt take non.”

þan Char[lis] askede of ys men a-boute, Hwych of hem wolde of al þe route
Sle þat heþene hounde.
Ogyer hym ansuerede—“y wil hym slo, For myche tene he haueþ me y-do,
Her ys his bane y-founde.”

182

Ys swerd a drow þat het corteyn, Wel many a Saraȝyn had he sleyn
thar-with thar by-fore.
Ogier in the nekke thar-wyþ hym gerte, þat þe heued fro þat body sterte,
ys owen lengþe & more.

Wan þe A[meral] Balan was a-slawe Florippe com forþ & was wel fawe,
& [. . asked(?)] kyng Charloun,
& sayde, “syre kyng, as þou art wiȝte, And y haue ben trewe to þyne kniȝte(?),
[Now] graunte to me Gyoun.”
“Damesele,” quaþ Roland, “þow sayst ryȝt, þow schalt hym haue by god almyȝt.”
þan spak he to þat hende—
“Gy of Borgoygne, do as þow hyȝt, Ant tak þys lady fair & briȝt,
In-to þy lyues ende.”
“Wel gladlych,” saide Gyoun þo, “So þat myn vncle assenty to,
þe Emperour Charlemayn.”
þan saide Charlys—“god for-beode þat y anentes þilke neode
Any-þyng sayde a-gayne.”

þe Damesele dispoilled hure þanne anon, Hyr skyn was as whyt so þe melkis fom,
fairer was non on molde:
Wyþ eȝene graye, and browes bent, And ȝealwe traces, & fayre y-trent,
Ech her semede of gold.
Hure vysage was fair & tretys, Hure body iantil and pure fetys,
& semblych of stature.
In al þe werld ne miȝt be non fayrer wymman of flesch & bon,
þan was þat creature.

Wan þys lordes had seyȝen hur naked, In alle manere wyse weel y-maked,
On hure þay toke lekynge.
Was non of hem þat ys flechs ne-raas, Noþer kyng, ne baroun, ne non þat was,
Sche was so fair a þynge.

[OMITTED]

[_]

The remainder of the MS. is missing. The following note provides a summary of the narrative as presented in the French original.

Floripas is baptised, but her name is not changed. She and Guy are crowned, and Spain is divided between Guy and Ferumbras. At the end of a month Charles prepares to return to France. He asks Floripas to show him the sacred relics, as he intends to start the next day. Floripas produces the casket: the crown of thorns is exhibited to the barons. The archbishop tests it, by leaving it suspended in the air without any support. A delicious odour comes from it. The archbishop takes out the nails. The archbishop tests the nails, and declares them to be the real relics. Then he draws out the inscription, which he shows, and lays on a cloth beside the other relics. The relics are carefully wrapped up and placed in the king's coffer. Charles places the fragments of the thorns in his glove, which remains suspended in the air for over an hour. The archbishop points out this great miracle. Charles and his barons go to dinner. The revelry lasts till nightfall, when they separate. Charles dreams that he is at Aixla-Chapelle, and a voice bids him return to Spain, to help Guy. And that a favourite lioness tries to tear him to pieces. Naymes explains the meaning of the dream.

Next morning after mass the army starts. Floripas accompanies them a short distance. Guy and Ferumbras go as far as Mantrible, where Charles stays one night. Guy and Ferumbras take leave of Charles. On the eighth day the French arrive at Paris. Charles goes to St Denis and exhibits the sacred relics, which he distributes: part of the crown and one nail he gives to St Denis: the inscription to Compiegne. He establishes in their honour the fair of ‘Lendit.’

Within three years came the treachery of Gwenelon and the death of Roland. Gwenelon is torn in pieces.

My tale is done, God bless you all!

University of Virginia Library

Sir Ferumbras.

CHARACTERS OF THE ROMANCE.