The Story of England :: :: University of Virginia Library

Þen parted Brutus his host in þre,
& sette þem alle in certeynte,
How priuely þey schold[e] go
Wyþoute noise, wyþoute wo,
Neyþer byhynde ne byforn,
“Ne smite nought noman born,
“Tyl y come þer þe kyng lys,
“& men wyþ me of god auys.
“& whan y am at his pauyloun,
“Þen schal y blowe a gret soun,
“Myn horn þat ȝe wel knowe,
“A blast to ȝow y schal blowe.
“þen spares non, bot sles on fast
“(When þat y haue blowe þat blaste,)
“Slepyng, wakyng, þat ȝe may fynde,
“Þat ys of þe Gregeys kynde.”
When þat Brutus his horn blew,
Hys men hit herde þat hit wel knew;
Þen spared þey non, bot slow al doun;
On & oþer, erl & baroun,
Þey slowe þem alle right at þer wille,
On slepe þey founden hem fol stille;
Hadde þey no grace ne pouste
To armen þem, neyþer to fle.
Byhinde, bifore, on þeym þei cam,
Vneþes any a-wey þer nam;
ȝyf ani a-scaped þorow a chaunce,
ȝit bifel þem as foule a chaunce;

Of grete roches þey fulle al doun,
& al fur-frusched bak & croun,
Oþer þey were drowned in watres depe,
Vneþes myghte ony þem kepe.
Brutes tok þe kyng Pandras
& al þat in his pauylon was.
Wyþoute ani kynes ylle
Vnto þe morn he held hem stille.
At morn y þe sonne rysynge,
Brutus led Pandras þe kynge
Vntil his castel, his owen hold,
& dide hym kepe wiþ knyghtes bold.
Syþen tok Brutus al þe tresour
Þat he had wonnen yn þat stour,
& gaf his knyghte largely,
& als til oþer fol corteysly.

Þat oþer day, conseil he tok
Amanges þe commune, & bad hem lok
What were to done of kyng Pandras,
Þat in his prison holden was,
Wheþer þey redden hym for to slo,
Oþer quytly let hym go:
“Conseilles wel now alle of þys,
“Þat non ne seye þat y do mys.”
Many on seyde þeir auys,
Of on & oþer þat weren wys:
Þys conseyl was ofte an honde,
To take partie of þe londe,
& euere haue hit in heritage
ffrely wyþouten seruage,

& to haue acquitaunce
Of þe barons for alle chaunce.
Oþer seye, þat þer ware,
“Þem were bettere elle whare;
“Aske we leue at þe kynge,
“& go we seke vs oþer wonynge
“Wyþ oure children & oure wyues;
“ffor þo þat hates, alday striues.”
Þyse to skyles forþ þey kest,
Whylk to take were þe best.

A knyght vp styrte als þey spek þus—
His name was sire Membricius—
“Alle þe reson ȝe haue forþ brought,
“þe beste of alle ne se ȝe nought;
“Sertes, þys were our most profit:
“Wiþ loue & leue he queþe vs quyt,
“& gyue vs shipes in to wende,
“& of his vitaille, als he ys hende,
“& oþer þyng þat we haue nede,
“To chargen hem wiþ vs to lede,
“& til oure lord Brutus, our kynge,
“Ignogyn his doughter ȝynge.
“Lete vs þenne go do our beste,
“& seke vs land opon to rest;
“ffor ȝif we dwelle on þeym here,
“We be þeym neuere lef ne dere;
“What we dide ones, þey schold wel þenk,
“& wait vs wyþ a wykked blenk;
“Schal we neuere rightly haue pees,

“Bot wait vs wyþ som wykked res.
“Gret ferly ne were hit nought,
“ffor mykel we we haue þem wrought,
“ffor we han slayn of þer kynde
“þat we myghte eyþer take or fynde;
“þerfore syker mot ȝe be,
“Whan þey se tyme, or haue pouste,
“þys bale wil þey eft vs brewe,
“Oure olde skaþes þey wille make newe;
“& þus men seys, & ofte ys founde,
“Of old sor comeþ greuous wounde.
“Non of vs alle—wel y wene—
“þat we naue don hem treye & tene;
“þer frendes þorow vs han þey lorn,
“Or þer godes a-wey han born,
“& þo þat lyuen, þat now ar left,
“Vengaunce on vs þey wyl seke eft;
“ffor þey wil waxe & we schal wanye;
“When we ben fewe, þey schol be manye;
“ȝyf we ought falle, & þey ought ryse,
“þey schul til vs do swylk iustise
“þat alle our Troiens ilkon schold deye.
“þerfore y rede ȝow, chese þe w[e]ye,
“ȝyf þat oure kyng þerto wyl rede;
“& elles gos our kynde to dede.”
þen cried þey alle, & speke at ones,
“Sire Membryce says wel ffor þe nones!
“At þys conseill consente we alle;
“No bettere for ne mai byfalle.”

Þe kyng þey broughte forþ anon,
And his broþer sire Antygon,

& askede hym leue fo[r] to go
Wiþouten any more wo;
þey asked hym what þey wold haue,
& ȝif he vouched on þem saue,
& his doughter to be þer quen,
Als hit was ordeyned hem bytwen.
Þen sey þe kyng þer myght was more
Þan his was; þat dred he sore.
He graunted hem ylk a del
To gon at þer wylle wel:
“At ȝoure wille ȝe me haue,
“& my doughter ȝe me craue;
“Y se y may non oþer do,
“Myn enemy most y gyue hure to;
“My moste fo & my feloun
“Schal haue my doughter to warisoun.
“Bot of o þyng ys my ioye,
“He ys þe doughtiest man of Troye,
“& comen of þe nobleste blod:
“Þat now gladeþ most my mod.
“I graunte ȝow schipes ȝour folk to lede,
“& vitailles þat ȝe haue nede,
“Wel more þan ys ȝoure deuise,
“ȝyf þat þys lond may hit suffise.”

Þen sente þe kyng his messegers
Vntil þe hauenes & costes sers,
Þat alle þe schipes on water myght saille
Schuld ben brought tyl o ryuaille,
Þere þey schold chese þe beste,
Þat weren most oþer strengeste.

When þey had chosen at þer pay,
Þey charged þey[m] fro day to day,
& of þe beste in ylk a contre
Þey ledde to schip[pe] gret plente.

Þe kyng dide his doughter brynge,
& gaf hure Brutus in weddynge,
And dide hym bettere in alle wyse
Þan Brutus asked, or any of hyse;
ffor alle þat þer were, baroun & knyght,
Þey geuen hym after þer myght.