University of Virginia Library

Djuers is þis myddellerde
To lewed men and to lerede.
Bysynesse, care and sorouȝ
Js myd man vche morowȝe,
Somme for sekenesse, for smert,
Somme for defaut oiþer pouert,
Somme for þe lyues drede
Þat glyt away so floure in mede.
Ne is lyues man non so sleiȝe
Þat he ne þoleþ ofte ennoyȝe
Jn many cas, on many manere,
Whiles he lyueþ in werlde here.
Ac is þere non, fole ne wys,
Kyng, ne duk, ne kniȝth of prys,
Þat ne desireþ sum solas
Forto here of selcouþe cas;
For Caton seiþ, þe gode techer,
Oþere mannes lijf is oure shewer.
Naþeles, wel fele and fulle
Beeþ yfounde in herte—and shulle—
Þat hadden leuer a ribaudye
Þan here of God oiþer Seint Marie,
Oiþer to drynk a copful ale
Þan to heren any gode tale.
Swiche Ich wolde weren out bishett,
For certeynlich it were nett.
For hij ne habbeþ wille, Ich woot wel,
Bot in þe gut and in þe barel.
Now, pes! listneþ, and leteþ cheste—
Ȝee shullen heren noble geste,
Of Alisaundre, þe rich[e k]yng,
Þat dude by his mais[t]res teching,
And ouercom, so J fynde,
Darrye of Perce and P[o]re of Ynde,
And many oþere, wiȝth and hende,
Jn to þe est werldes ende;
And þe wondres of worme and beest—
Deliciouse it is to ylest.
Ȝif ȝee willeþ sitten stylle,
Fulfylle Ich wil al ȝoure wille.

Whilom clerkes wel ylerede
On þre diȝtten þis middelerde,
And cleped hem in her maistrie
Europe, Affryke, and Assye;
Ac Assye also mychel is
As Europe and Affryk, jwys.
Wise men also founden þere
Twelue shedynges in þe ȝere,
Þe ȝer to lede by riȝth ars.
Þe first was ycleped Mars,
Þe oþere Auerylle, þe þridd May,
Þe fierþe June in lengest day;
Þe fyfte Jule, þe sexte August,
Þe seuenþe Septembre, þou miȝth trust,
Octobre þe eiȝtteþ, þe nynþe Nouembre;
Þe tienþe moneþ is Decembre.
Geneuer was þe elleuenþe þoo,
Feuerel þe twelueþ, and nomoo.
Names of planetes so beþ yhote;
Summe beeþ chelde, summe beeþ hote.
By hem men han þe seysyne
To londe, to watre, to corne, to wyne,
And alle chaunces, nesshe and hard,
Knaweþ by hem men ylerd.
Who-so wil þe nature ysee,
Hij moten yheren Tholome,
For J ne may, by Goddes ore,
Þerof now telle nomore.
Ac whi Ich habbe hem þus vnleke
Ȝee shullen me after her speke.

Barouns weren whilom wijs and gode
Þat þis art wel vnderstoode,
Ac on þere was hoten Neptenabus
Wijs in þis ars and maliciouse.
Whan kyng oiþer erle com hym to a-werre,
Quyk he loked in þe sterre.
Of wexe he made hym popatrices,
And dude hem fiȝtten myd latrices;
And so he lerned, ieo vous dy,
Ay to afelle his enemy.
Mid charmes and myd coniurisouns,
Þus he assaied þe regiouns
Þat hym comen to assaile—
Jn pure manere of bataile,
By clere candel in þe niȝth
He dude vche myd oþere fiȝth.
Þus he lerned, Ich ȝou telle,
Hou he sholde his fon afelle,
Of alle manere naciouns
Comynde by shippe oiþer dromouns.
At the last, of many londe
Kynges hadden of hym grete onde.
Wel a þritty ygadred beeþ,
And bispeken alle his deþ—
Kyng Philippe, of grete þede,
Maister of þat felawrede,
For he was man of miȝtty honde.
Myd hym he brouȝth of dyuers londe
Nyne and twenty riche kynges,
To maken on hym bataillynges.
Neptenabus it vnderstood—
Achaufed so was al his blood
(He was aferde sore of harme).
He made his wexe and cast [hi]s charme.
His ymage he made onon,
And of his barouns euerychon,
And afterward of his fon,
And dude hem togedre gon
Jn a bacyne, al by charme.
He seiȝ to hym fel þe harme.
He seiȝ þe slauȝtte of his barounes,
Of hise þe destructiounes.
He loked and knew in þe sterren
Of alle kynges þe grete werren,
And seiȝ his de[þ] ȝif he abyde.
Michel sorouȝ was hym myde.
He ne couþe no better diȝtt,
Bot out of londe stale by niȝtt.
Nyst þere non þat hym was neiȝ
Whan he out of londe fleiȝ.
He degysed hym onon
Þat hym ne knew frende ne fon.
He fleiȝ away fro toun to toun,
Þorouȝ many straunge regioun.
Soiournyng non he nam,
To Macedoyne forto he cam
(A riche cite, þou vnderstonde,
Jn þe herte of Grece londe).
Neptanabus sore is anoyed,
For Philippe haþ his londe destroyed,
And he is in Philippes cite,
And þinkeþ ȝelde his iniquite.
Of golde he makeþ hym on table
Al ful of sterren, saunz fable,
And þenkeþ siggen amonges men
Þat he is an astromyen,
For of astronomye and nygromaunce
Couþe non so mychel, saunz dotaunce.

Averylle is mery and langeþ þe daye:
Leuedyes dauncen and þai playe.
Swaynes justneþ, kniȝttes tournay,
Syngeþ þe niȝttyngale, gradeþ þe jay;
Þe hote sunne clyngeþ þe clay,
As ȝee wel yseen may.
Jn þis tyme, Ich vnderstonde,
Philippe is in Neptenabus londe,
And haueþ ydon to þe swerde
Þem þat nolden myd hym acorde.
Olympyas, as J fynde on bokes,
Þe cite of Macedoyne lokes.
Kynges Philyppe quene she is;
Of lyuyng ladies she bereþ þe prijs.
Neptenabus in þe cite was.
Ac hereþ now a selcouþ cas!
Jn þis tyme faire and jolyf,
Olympyas, þat faire wijf,
Wolde make a riche fest
Of kniȝttes and lefdyes honest,
Of burgeys and of jugelers,
And of men of vche mesters.
For men seiþ by north and south
Wymmen beeþ euere selcouþ—
Mychel she desireþ to shewe hire body,
Her faire here, her face rody,
To haue loos and ek praisyng,
And al is folye, by heuen-kyng.
So dude þe dame Olympyas,
Forto shewe hire gentyl face.
She hete marshales and kniȝttes
Greiþe hem to ryde onon-riȝttes,
And leuedyes and damoysele
Quyk hem greiþed, þousandes fele,
Jn faire atyre, in dyuers queyntise.
Many þere roode on riche wise.
A mule also whyte so mylk
Wiþ sadel of gold, sambu of sylk,
Was ybrouȝth to þe quene,
Myd many belle of syluer shene
Yfastned on orfreys of mounde,
Þat hengen neiȝ doune to grounde.
Forþ she ferde myd her route,
A þousande lefdyes of riche soute.
A speruer þat was honest
So sat on þe lefdyes fyst.
Foure trumpes toforne hire blew.
Many man þat day hire knew—
An hundreþ þousand and ek moo,
Alle alouten hire vnto.
Al þe toun byhonged was
Aȝeins þe lefdy Olympyas.
Orgnes, chymbes, vche manere glee,
Was dryuen aȝein þat leuedy free.
Wiþouten þe tounes murey
Was arered vche manere pley.
Þere was kniȝttes tourneying,
Þere was maydens carolyng,
Þere was champouns skirmyng,
Of hem, of oþere also, wrestlyng,
Of lyons chace, of bere baityng,
A-bay of bore, of bole slatyng.
Al þe cite was byhonge
Wiþ riche samytes and pelles longe.
Dame Olympias amonge þis pres
Sengle rood, al mantel-les,
And naked-heued, in one coroune
She rood þorouȝ-out al þe toun.
Here ȝelewe her was faire atired
Mid riche strenges of golde wyre,
[And wriȝe]d here abouten al
To her gentile myddel smal.
Briȝth and shene was her face;
Euery fairehede in hir was.
Of þe folk lewed and lered
Ȝauen hire prijs of þe middlerd.
Neptanabus in þe weye stood
Myd polled heued and of his hood.
Of her fairehede, saunz fay[l]e,
He had in hert grete meruayle.
Jn hir he loked stedfastlyk,
And she in hym, al outrelyk.
She hym avised among þe pleye
For he was nouȝth of þat contreye.
She asked his beyng in hast.
[He was abasched and] agast,
And þouȝth, ȝif he myd tale duelld,
A þeef he shulde ben yhelde.
‘Dame’ he seide, ‘be þou nouȝth looþ—
Jch am ycome to telle þe sooþ.’
She was adrad he shulde telle
Þing of shame, and nolde duelle.
More she þouȝth þan she spaak.
Away she roode from hym, good shak,
And þouȝth she wolde hym yhere
Whan she was of leysere.

Gamen is good whiles it wil last,
Ac it fareþ so wyndes blast—
Þe werldelich man, and lesse and maast,
Here leue þere-inne so wel waast.
Whan it is beest to þee henne it wil haste.
Me wondreþ þat men ne beeþ a-gaste,
And þat somme hem by oþere ne chasteþ.
Olympyas her herte [c]asteþ
After þis game deliciouse.
She þencheþ on Neptanabus.
She clepeþ to hir ane sweyn
Þat is hire vnderchaumberleyn,
And Neptanabus after sendeþ;
Þe chaumberleyn hym after wendeþ.
To hir chaumbre he comeþ on hast.
Of her fairehede he was agast.
Toforne hir a-knawe he satt,
And she hym seide onon, myd þat:
‘Me þinkeþ,’ she seide, ‘maister, jwys,
Þat in þe sterren þou art wys.
Saye’ she seide ‘for my loue,
Who drouȝ þee so heiȝe aboue
Swiche maistrie þee to tache?’
‘Dame’, he seide, ‘J nylle þe nouȝth bicache.
By þe planetes and by þe sterren
J can juggen alle þe werren,
Alle pleȝes, alle metynges,
On erþe and alle oþere þinges.
Þorouȝ þat art, Jch sygge þee,
J can þe goddes pryuete.’
And Olympyas hym asked þoo:
‘Why bihelde þou me so
Now toforne in þe vys,
Þoo Ich roode to wynne prys?’
‘Oo! madame,’ he seide, ‘Olympyas,
Heiȝe maister in Egipte J was.
On a day, after redyng,
To goddes J made sacrifyeyng.
On ansuere me was yseide.
Þou shalt nouȝth þerof ben ennoyed,
Ac þank me conne, lefdy free,
Þat Ich com hider to warne þee.’

Þe lefdy lijþ on her bedde,
Yhiled myd a silken webbe.
Jn a chaysel smok she lay,
And in a mantel of Doway.
Of þe briȝthede of her face
Al aboute schoon þe place.
Selde she spaak, and nouȝth loude,
And so don wymmen þat ben proude.
Þat was wel in his herte—
Jt dude hym good to duelle, certes.
His aristable he took out sone.
Þe cours he tolde of sonne and mone;
Þe cours of þe planetes seuene
He tolde also vnder heuene.
Þe sonne he shewed in hir al
Þat had colour of cristal;
Þe mone in propre nature
Of adamaunt bare þe coloure.
Þe lefdy he dude also conne
Hou she took lyȝth of þe sonne.
Mars was swiþe reed fere lyche;
Venus was þe saphire ylyche.
Mercurye he made gres-grene,
And Jouyne so metal shene.
Þe lefdy seiȝ al þis, saunz fayle.
Þere-of she had grete meruayle,
And seide to hym: ‘be þou nouȝth looþ
Me to telle of oo þing sooþ.
Maistres me habbeþ ytolde, by dome,
Þat wha[n] my lorde is hom ycome
He me wil away dryue,
And taken hym anoþer wyue.’
He loked jn his aristable.
‘Jt is sooþ’, he seide, ‘saunz fable.
Ac of oo þing J nylle þee nouȝth gabbe—
A knaue-childe þou shalt arst habbe
Þat shal be cleped god of londe.
He shal awreke al þi shonde;
Of alle kynges he worþe þe best,
Þe werlde to wynne in to þe est.
Amon, þe god of Lybye,
Shal doune come from þe skye
To þine bed, la, God it wete,
And in þine body hym biȝete.
Greiþe þee now, and faire þee kepe—
To-niȝth þou seest hym in þi slepe.’
For folye al it helde þe quene,
And seide soþe it miȝth nouȝth bene,
And swore, by Adam and by Eue,
She ne wolde it neuere yleue,
Ac ȝif she hym seiȝ in metyng
She wolde leue in swiche þing.
His leue took Neptenabus,
To his jn, wel yrous.
Herbes he took in on herbere,
And stamped hem in a mortere,
And wronge it out in a boxe,
And after he took virgyne waxe
And made a popet after þe quene.
His aristable he gan vnwriȝen.
Þe quenes name in þe wexe he wroot
Whiles it was sumdel hoot.
Jn a bed he it diȝth,
And al aboute candel-liȝth,
And spraynde þere-on of þe herbes juse;
And þus charmed Neptenabus.
Þe leuedy in her bed lay.
Aboute myd-niȝth, ar þe day,
Whiles he made his coniuryng,
She seiȝ ferly in her metyng.
Hire þouȝth a dragoun adoune liȝth
To hire chaumbre and made a fliȝth.
Jn he com to hire boure
And crepe vnder her couertoure.
Many siþe he hire kyste
And fast in his armes þriste,
And went away so dragon wylde;
Ac gret he lete hir wiþ childe.
Þoo he lete redyng on his book,
Olympyas of slepe awook.
She was a-grised for þe nones,
Þat alle quakeden hire bones.
Anon by a message gent
After Neptanabus she sent;
Al þat she seiȝ she hym telde.
She seide, ‘sir, God þee forȝelde!
On vche manere it ferd soo.
Fro me shaltou no-whider goo,
Ac loke me and bileue stille
Forto Ich wyte þi lordes wille.’
He bileued, wiþoute sorowe,
Myd þe lefdy al þe morowe.
Hire bed was made by hym, forsoþe,
Myd pelles and myd riche cloþe.
Þe chaumbre was myd cloþes of golde
Byhenged so þe maister wolde.
He voided þe chaumbre of men vchon,
For, he seide, þat niȝth Amon
Shulde come to þe leuedy,
And ben her leef and her amy
(And hym-self was kniȝth, and swayn,
And boure-mayde, and chaumberlayn!);
Forto it well forþ niȝttes was
Jn bed wook dame Olympyas,
And aspyed on vche manere
Ȝif she miȝth ouȝth yhere
Hou Amon þe god shulde come.
Neptenabus his charme haþ nome,
And takeþ hym hames of d[r]agoun,
From his shuldre to hele adoun;
His heued and his shuldres fram
He diȝtteþ in fourme of a ram.
Ouere hire bed twyes he lepeþ,
Þe þrid tyme and jn he crepeþ.
Offe he cast his dragons hame
And wiþ þe lefdy playeþ his game.
She was þolemood and lay stille;
Þe fals god dude al his wille.
Also oft so he wolde,
Þat game she refuse nolde.
Þoo þe cok crowe bigan,
He seide to hir, ‘gentil lemman,
Jch habbe biȝeten on þee a kyng
Þat shal be Philippes maisterlyng.
On erþe worþe non hym yliche—
He shall conquere many kyng-riche.’
And afterward, in þe daweyng,
He makeþ eft his charmyng,
And smyteþ of hire be[d] in to his,
So he it nere nouȝth, jwys.
Þoo his charme ydon was,
Vp hir stirte Olympyas,
And telleþ to Neptanabon
Alle þe affers of Amon,
And he to hire—boþe acorde—
Alle þe gestes of Amon his lorde.
Ȝif he faile, mysauenture he haue!
For he was lorde and eek knaue.

Olympyas stant tofore Neptanabus
Of her nywe loue wel desirous.
So dooþ womman after mysdoyng,
Ne can no shame ne no repentyng,
Er she be lauȝtte in her folye
So in þe lyme is þe fleiȝe.
She seide to hym ‘of maistres floure,
Hou shal J take on wiþ myne amoure?
Shal J any more hym yseen,
Shal J anymore aqueynte hym ben?
Ȝif he is god, he is kiynde,
And wil me often come hende.
His loue is also swete, jwys,
So note-muge oiþer lycorys.
Erþelich kniȝth ne erþelich kyng
Nys so swete, in none þing.
Ȝif he is god, he is mylde;
Now he haþ brouȝth me myd childe,
He me wil solace and liþe
And in þis care maken bliþe.’
‘Care þou nouȝth,’ quoþ þis losongere,
‘Jch am Amonns messagere.
Telle me amorowe þi wille free,
Aniȝth he shal myd þee bee.
Ac it wil gode skylle
Ȝoure pryuete þat þou hele,
For onde of kniȝth ne baroun,
And ne wraþþe þi god Amon.’
Swiþe bliþe was dame Olympias
Of Neptenabus g[il]ful cas.
She maked hym her chaumberleyn
Ouere kniȝth and ouere sweyn,
And hym bitook alle here kayes,
And her kepyng by niȝth and dayes.
Neptenabus al dooþ his wille
Wiþ Olympyas, ac euere stille,
Also it were þe god Amon.
Þe lefdy greted wiþ newe bon.
Þe barouns hadden suspecioun,
And senten saie kyng Philippoun.
Yhereþ now hou selcouþe lijf
Comeþ to shame, sorouȝ, and strijf.

Whan corne ripeþ in heruest-tyde,
Mery it is in felde and hyde.
Synne it is and shame to chide,
For shameful dedes springeþ wyde.
Kniȝttes willeþ on huntyng ride—
Þe dere galpeþ by wode-syde.
He þat can his tyme abide
Al his wille hym shal bityde.
Þe quene greteþ myd quyk bon
By þe fals god Amon.
To Neptenabus she seiþ hire mone,
And askeþ what hire be to done.
She dredeþ hire lorde Philippoun
Hire wil forsake for þat chesoun.
He bad hire make hardy chere,
And seide Amon was of powere
To kepe hire from encombrement:
‘And þi fruyt shal be so gent
Þat he shal þee so awreke
Þat alle men shullen þere-of speke.’
Þe leuedy hire conforteþ þus.
Þat ilk niȝth Neptenabus
Made so stronge sorcery,
And adressed it by þe sky,
Þat it com to þe pauyloun
Þere þat lijþ kyng Philippoun.
Also he lijþ in slepe by niȝth,
Hym þinkeþ a goshauk in grete fliȝth
Settleþ on his herbergeynge,
And ȝyneþ, and sprat abrode his wenge.
A dragoun of his denne gan fleiȝe,
Whan he þat goshauk yseiȝe,
And settleþ sone after þas
On stede þere þe quene was.
Sone so he þe quene fonde,
Jn hire mouþe he blew a bronde.
Þere-after nouȝth swiþe lang
A lyoun at hire nauel out sprang.
Þe lyoun smoot in to þe est;
Ne durst hym wiþstonde beest.
Þe goshauk of hym was a-gast,
And awook hym wel on hast.
Þoo kyng Philippe of sleep awook,
Alle clerkes wise on book
He dude ofsende, most and last,
And telde hem þis sweuene in hast.
On þere was, hiȝth Abyron,
Wisest clerk of euerychon—
‘Sir’, he seide, ‘here my steuene.
Swiþe selcouþ is þi sweuene.
Þe goshauk of whom þe þouȝth
Js þi-self, wery of-fouȝth.
Þe dragoun is sum sterne man,
Oiþer a god, so ich þee telle can,
Þat haþ leyn by þi quene,
And biȝeten a sterne strene.
He shal be kynges alle aboue,
Bitwene þis and heuen-roue.
Whan þou comest to þi londe,
Þe soþe þou shalt vnderstonde.’
Þe kyng her-of took grete sorouȝ,
And took homward myd his folk amorouȝ.
He fonde al sooþ, wiþouten noo,
And asked who hire greiþed soo.
She seide þat she was amye
To Amon, þe god of Lybye.

Þe kyng was wrooþ (no wonder it nas)
þat his wijf wiþ childe was.
Fewe wordes to hire he seide;
Louryng semblaunt on hire he made.
He þouȝth on hir awreken ben
Whan he miȝth his tyme seen.
Þeiȝ Neptenabus nolde speke,
Wel he þouȝth hire awreke.
A day it fel þe kyng a feste
Wolde helden, swiþe honeste,
Of dukes, of princes, of barouns,
Of kniȝttes of his regiouns,
And after make bymeny[n]g
Of his wyues mysdoyng.
Þai comen to þe kynges sonde,
Gentyl men of fele londe.
To þe mete þay weren ysett,
Ne miȝtten men ben serued bett,
Noiþer in mete ne in drynk;
Bot þere-aboute nyl ich swynk.
Ac þoo þai shulde bere vp þe clooþ,
Vche of hem so bycom wrooþ,
For a dragon þere com jn fleen,
Swithe griselich on to seen.
His tayl was fyue fadem lang;
Þe fyre out at his nose-þerles sprang.
By þre, by foure, myd þe tayle
To þe grounde he smoot saunz fayle.
Wiþ þe mouþe he made a beere
So al þe halle shulde ben a-fere.
Þe kyng had wel grete hawe;
Alle his barouns to chaumbre drawe.
Þe lefdy ȝede vnto þe drake.
He lete his rage for hire sake,
And laide his heued in hir barme,
Wiþouten doyng of any harme.
Also þis folk abouten þrest
Forto see þis selcouþe beest,
On erne he bycam and out fleiȝ
Jn to þe skyes þat vche man seiȝ.
Sone þerafter and nouȝth longe,
Fel a chaunce selcouþe and stronge.
Of wilde beestes com a grete pray
Ȝerned þorouȝ-out þe contray,
And afterward a flok of bryddes,
And a fesaunt hem fleiȝ amyddes.
An eye he leide, also he fleiȝ,
Þat fel þe kyng Phelippe neiȝ.
Þat eye braak, ich ȝou telle;
A dragon crepe out of þe shelle.
Þe briȝth sonne so hoot shoon
Þat þe eye-shelle al to-scroon.
Þe dragonett lay in þe strate;
Miȝth he nouȝth dure for þe hate.
He fonded to crepe, ich ȝou telle,
Aȝeyn in to þe eye-shelle.
Jt was to-broken, and he ne miȝth,
And þere he starf onon-riȝth.
Þe kyng it seiȝ and wonder he had.
Alle his maistres he ofgrad,
And seide he had þerof dotaunce,
For it was som signifiaunce,
And bad hem telle of whiche þing
Jt miȝth be signifieyng.
On þere was þat hete Antyfon;
Wyser clerk ne lyued non
Jn al þis werldes regioun,
Jn art of estallacioun.
He seide, ‘O, sir kyng, saunfaile
Here is fallen gret merueyle.
By þis ilk litel dragon
Js bitokned þe quenes son.
Þe eye rounde shal signifie
Þat he shal habbe seignourye
Of þis rounde myddellerd,
Boþe of lewed and of lerd.
Ac he shal wende of londe fer,
To Grece and comen neuer ner.
He shal be poysond saunz retours
Of his owen traytoures.
Þat signifieþ þe dragonett
Ne may recouer to his recett.’

Tjme is comen þe lefdy shal childe;
She biddeþ þe god be hire mylde.
Þe þrowen hire afonge[n] gynne.
Neptanabus biholdeþ his gynne,
And seiþ to þe lefdy aloude,
‘Wiþholde þe, dame, and aȝeyn croude,
For ȝif þou childest in þis stounde,
Þi childe shal be myd sorouȝ bounde,
Coward, feynt, and nouȝth worþ.
Wiþhelde þee ȝut, and bere þee forþ.’
She wiþhelde hire wiþ al hire woo,
So þat she ne childed þoo.
Ac sone after a þrowe hire cam;
Anoþer shryke þe quene vp nam.
‘Now is wers’, quoþ Neptanabus,
‘And þou childe in þis hous,
Jt shal be a þing vneste—
Heued of cok, breest of man, croupe of beest.’
Jn hire sorouȝ ȝut she louȝ,
Of hire childyng and hir wiþdrouȝ.
Ac sone þere-after hire was so woo
So þat she ne miȝth goo,
And he loked in þe planete.
Þe tyme þoo hym þouȝth swete,
And seide swiftely to þe quene,
‘Doo, dame, now lete come þi strene,
For he shal be [m]aster of londes,
Gode werroure, miȝtty of hondes,
Þe hardyest of lyuyng man—
Shal hym no foo stonde aȝein.’
Jn þat tyme þat he þus grad,
A knaue-childe þe quene hadd.
Alisaunder he named was.
Jn his beryng fel straunge cas.
Þe erþe shook, þe cee bycom grene,
Þe sonne wiþdrouȝ, shynyng shene.
Þe mone hire shewed, and bicom blak.
Þe þonder made many crak.
Þe day bycom derk so niȝth.
Afered was sore euery wiȝth.
Kyng Phelipp seide to þe moder,
‘Þou hast brouȝth forþ an yuel fode.
Mote he lybbe and þenne goo,
Many man he shal do woo.’
Neptanabus took on bysmare
Al þat þe kyng seide þare.
He dude þe childe habbe noryce,
Gentil leuedyes and nouȝth nyce.
Þe weder bicom mery and briȝth.
Ataise hem makeþ lefdy and kniȝth.
Þe childe waxeþ a wiȝth ȝongelyng.
Now hereþ geste and ȝiueþ listnyng.

Alisaundre waxeþ a childe of mayn.
Maistres he haueþ two doseyn.
Somme hym techeþ forþ to gon,
Þat oþere his cloþes on to don;
Þe þrid hym techeþ to pleye atte balle,
Þe fierþe afetement of halle.
Þe fifte hym tauȝtte to skirme and ryde,
And to demayne horses bridel.
Þe seuenþe maister techeþ his pars
And þe wytt of þe seuen ars.
Aristotle was on þerof.
Þis is nouȝth romaunce of skof,
Ac storye ymade of maistres wyse,
Of þis werlde of mest pryse.
Was þere neuere, Ich vnderstonde,
Nobler childe in none londe.

Now can Alisaundre of skirmyng,
As of stedes derayeyng,
Vpon stedes of justnyng,
And wiþ swerdes turneyeing,
Of assailyng and defendyng,
Jn grene-wood and of huntyng,
And of ryuer, of haukyng,
Of bataile and of alle þing.
Þat wel vs hereþ God auaunce!
Jn þis tyme fel a chaunce:
Kyng Philippe pleyed in a pleyne.
His man hym brouȝth by a cheyne
A grisely beest, a rugged colt,
He had ylauȝth in an holt.
He presented it to þe kyng.
Jt þouȝth hym a selkouþ þing.
Jt had a croupe so an hert,
An heued so a bole, cert,
An horne in þe forehede amydward
Þat wolde perce a shelde hard.
Jt was more þan any stede,
And rede wete me miȝth it fede,
Ac mannes flesshe leuere hym was
Þan hay-rek oiþer corne-tas.
Jn an out-hous, jn yrnen bende,
Jt stood, and no man it hende.
Alle þeues þat shulden ben ylore
Men brouȝtten þat hors bifore.
He had soner y-eten a man
Þan two champyons a han.
Bulcyfal þat hors hete;
Many man in his lyue he frete.
Noman ne durst þere-on ycome
Bot Alisaundre þe gode gome.
Ne most noman it bistride
Bot Alisaundre, ne on hym ride.
To hym he wolde wel obeye—
He most on hym ride and pleye.

Neptanabus, vpon a daye,
Mid Alisaundre ȝede forto playe,
And tauȝtte hym þe cours of sonne and mone,
And al þing þat was to done.
By sterren and by þe firmament
He hym tauȝtte, verrayment.
Ac Alisaundre, er he it wist,
Jn a pytt doune hym þrist.
His panne braak aȝein [a] ston;
Atwo crussht his nek-bon.
Jn his deþ-þrowe he was swowe,
And spaak to Alisaundre (ac it was low),
‘O, gentil kniȝth! þou be biknowe
For whiche þing þou hast me slawe.’
‘What!’ quoþ childe Alisaundre,
‘Ouer al so ȝede þe sclaunder
Þat þou haddest biȝeten me.
Miȝttestou nouȝth in book yse
Who þee shulde to deþ don,
Oiþer þi frende oiþer þi fon?
Anoþer man þou couþest auaunce,
And by sterren telle his chaunce.
Ne shaltou more man bigile;
Jch haue ȝolden þee þi while.
Jch wene of deþ þou hast part—
þine herbes faileþ, and ek þine art.’
Ac Neptanabus hym seide aȝen,
‘My son Ich wist shulde me slen.’
‘Artou my fader?’ quoþ Alisaundre.
‘Ȝe,’ quoþ he, ‘sooþ is þe sclaunder;
Jch wil wel þou it wyte’,
And telde hym hou he was biȝete.
Alisaunder ran in to þe pytt
And dude vpon londe hym sytt,
And bare hym to Olympias
And hire telde al þe cas.
She ne miȝth it nouȝth forsake;
A pytt he dude sone make,
And brouȝth hym in his longe hous,
And þus ended Neptanabus.
Sooþ it is, vpe al þing,
Of yuel lijf yuel endyng.

Now is þe kyng wrooþ and grym,
Who shulde be kyng after hym—
His son Philippe, oiþer Alisaundre,
Of whom he bereþ swiche sklaundre.
He dooþ his temples alle bihonge
Wiþ baudekynes, brode and longe.
Oxen, sheep, and ek ken,
Many on he dude slen,
And after he bad his goddes feyre
He most wyte of his eyre,
Of Alisaunder and Philippoun,
Who shulde haue þe regioun.
A voice ansuered in an ymage,
‘Kyng, þou hast a colt sauage.
Who so may þere-on skippe,
Be it Alisaunder, be it Philippe,
He shall of Corinthe toun
After þee bere coroun.’
Þe kyng herd wel þis soun;
So dude many gentil baroun.
Þe kyng in to court wendeþ.
Þe children sone he ofsendeþ.
Bulcifal nayȝeþ so loude
Þat it shrilleþ in to þe cloude.
Þai wenten alle to þe stable
Þere it was tyed jnne, saun fable—
For a þousande pounde of golde
Philippoun it neiȝen wolde,
Ac Alisaundre lep on his rygge
So a golfynche dooþ on þe hegge.
He it vntyed and lete gon
So of bowe fleiȝeþ þe flon;
Fast he sitteþ, and halt þe rayne.
Vp and doune he it may demayne,
And dooþ in tourne in a ȝerdes lengþe,
And a-forceþ it wiþ strengþe.
Nys he bot of twelue ȝer olde—
His dedes weren stronge and bolde.
Fele weren at his liȝttyng þare
Þat reuerence gret hym bare,
And seiden it was worþi þing
He were þe nexte crouned kyng.

Mery tyme is wode sere:
Þe corne rypeþ in þe ere,
Þe lefdy is rody in þe chere,
And maiden briȝth in þe lere.
Þe kniȝttes hunteþ after dere,
On fote and on destrere.
Kyng Philippe sitteþ in his halle,
Amonge his dukes and barons alle
Þat he haþ somouned wyde
To ben bifore hym on þat tyde,
For he wolde in Corinthe toune
Alisaundre his son coroune
(Þat is, forto sigge ariȝth,
Ȝiue hym armes and maken hym kniȝth,
And maken couþ to alle gyng
After hym he shulde be kyng).
Kyng Philippe þat was his lorde
Girde hym wiþ riche swerde,
And ȝaf hym þe colee ariȝth,
And bad he shulde be gode kniȝth.
At þe yssue of þe doren
Tholomeus dude on his sporen.
Dubbed weren an hundreþ kniȝttes
For his loue myd hym þere-riȝttes.
After þe seruise of þe dubbyng,
He gooþ to mete wiþ þe kyng.
Wel men mowe wite þere was plente
Of mete and drynk and grete deynte.
Ac after mete, onon-riȝttes,
Þe kyng of-cleped gentil kniȝttes
(Jch woot it weren his tresorers);
He hete hem charge seuen somers
Wiþ riche rede jtried golde,
And Alisaundre he ȝiuen it sholde.
Þai duden her lordes comaundement,
And afenge faire þat present,
And departed on gentyl wyse,
Sum to kniȝttes of heiȝe seruise,
Sum mareschales, and botlers,
To ȝoman, page, and joglers.
Alle þoo þat fongen wolde
Ynouȝ hadden of rede golde.
Alisaundres gode loos
Of þat ȝyuyng first aroos.

A Kyng þere was, sumdel fer þenne,
þat had greued mychel his kynne;
He was yhoten Nicholas.
Alisaundre his ooþ made has,
He wil to hym wende onon,
And wreke his fader of his fon,
And grad aloude wiþ word kene,
‘Who me loueþ now worþe ysene!’
Þe stronge kniȝttes of þe halle
Quyk ronnen to armes alle,
And trusseden her somers,
And lepen vpon her destrers.
Wiþ her atyre shippes and barge
Þai gonnen many forto charge.
And olyfauntz, and ek camayles,
Boþe hij charged wiþ vitailes.
Alle to water þai don blyue,
Þe þrid day and comen to ryue.
Þai swymmeþ wiþ spreet, draweþ wiþ honde,
And þe shippes bryngeþ to londe.
Many kniȝth, wiþ armes shene,
Quyk þere lepen on þe grene,
And maden many pauylouns
To Alisaundre and hise barouns.
Þere-whiles Alisaundre hym diȝttes
Mid a partye of his kniȝttes,
And wandred vpon a stronde,
And mette þe kyng of þe londe,
Þat hiȝ Nicholas of Cartage,
Hardy man, stout, and sauage,
Þat seide to Alisaundre onon,
‘Who ȝaf þee leue here to gon?
Now quyk do þee hennes sone,
For þou ne hast nouȝth here to done.’
Alisaundre loked a-skof,
As he ne had yȝoue þere-of.
Nicholas hym ennoyede,
Wiþ wraþþe and to Alisaundre seide,
‘What doostou here, þou mysbiȝete gome?
Bot for þine harme hider artou come.
Fy, vyle ateynt hores sone!
To mysdon was ay þi wone.
Quyk take me þi wed for þis disray.’
Alisaundre ansuered, ‘Nay!
Wed ne shaltou habbe of me,
Ac Ich wil habbe wed of þee.
Al þis londe þat þou telles þine
And þi coroune so shal be myne.
Ȝif þou wilt of londe fle,
Þe may þe better sumdel be.’
‘Fy on þee!’ quoþ Nicholas,
And spat on hym amyd þe face.
‘Mowe Ich þee fynde after þis,
J shal þe don bynde, jwys.
Þou shalt ben honged and todrawe,
And quyk of þine hyde yflawe.
Afterward þou worþest ybarned.’
And quyk away he is y-arned;
For had he abiden, any þing,
He had abouȝth his spaityng.
Alisaunder was sore awhaped
Þat he was so sone ascaped,
And suore he shulde sore abugge,
And his hede for þat gilt legge—
For al þe golde of Cartage
Nolde he take oþere gage.
Her eiþer to oþere ost is went,
Ful of yre and mautalent.
Þe niȝth þai resteþ litel, forsoþe,
Bot as men þat ben wroþe.
Wel warded þai weren boþe þat niȝth,
Al forto spronge þe dayes liȝth.

Cler and fair is day-springyng,
And makeþ many departyng
Bituene kniȝth and his suetyng.
Þe sonne ariseþ and felleþ deveyng,
Of nesshe clay and makeþ clyngyng.
Many ben jolyf in þe morowenyng
And þolen deþ in þe euenyng.
Nis in þis werlde non so siker þing,
Þe tyme neiȝeþ of her wendyng.
Alisaunder in þe daweyng
Quyk had armed al his gyng—
Wiþ mychel ost he is comyng.
Þere was trumpyng and tabournyng,
Lepyng of stedes and nayȝeyng.
Many a riche gilt shelde
Þat day shoon vpon þe felde,
And many banere ygilt of ynde
Þat day rateled in þe wynde.
Wiþ cryeyng and þretyng wordes
Hij metten, wiþ speres ordes.
Many douȝtty ȝonge kniȝth
Þat ilk day assayed his miȝth;
Vche on oþere, wiþ grete mayn,
Tobrusten her launces in þe playn.
Summe hadden perced þe þarmes
Þorouȝ þe shelde and her armes,
Somme þe þrote, summe þe hertes
Hadden perced and storuen, certes.
After launces, swerdes þai drowe,
And many kniȝttes oþere slowȝe.
Many þere weren þat yuel sped,
For þai laiden heuedes to wed.
Summe armes and hondes loren,
And summe legges, wiþ þe sporen.
Many kniȝth, in litel stounde,
Laghȝtte þere dedly wounde.
Many kniȝth starf þere in þe prees;
Many childe was faderles;
Many lefdy lees her amoure,
And many maiden her gent socoure.
Many steden drowen her bridel—
Who-so wolde, he miȝth ryde,
Wiþouten siluer, wiþouten golde,
Whider-wardes so he wolde.
On boþe half, in litel stounde,
Was many a kniȝth yleid to grounde,
Ac þe descounfyt and þe damage
Fel vpon hem of Cartage.
Nicholas ysawe al þis,
And made a newe justes, jwys,
And slouȝ of Alisaunder men
Moo þan J ȝou telle can.
Þoo Alisaundre seiȝ þis greuaunce,
He took on honde a styf launce,
And amydward þe place
He mette wiþ Nicholas.
Heiȝe he bare his sharp spere—
Þorouȝ þe shelde he gan hym bere,
Ac þe armes weren so stronge
Þe spere nolden hij nouȝth fonge.
Alisaunder þe spere forlete,
And drouȝ his swerd, also skeete.
Nicholas he took in þe swere,
Þat he leide his heued to hyre,
And seide to hym, also skeet,
‘þis Ich þe ȝesterday byheet,
Þoo þou spytted in my visage.’
Þe oþere slowen wiþ grete rage.
Þe spoyle þai token of þe dede,
Hors and armes gode at nede.
Alisaundre quyk wiþ alle
Of Cartage felde þe walle,
And slouȝ doune-riȝth, wiþoute pyte,
And took þe spoyle of þe cite,
And þe coroune of þe londe,
And bare it away jn his honde.
Golde, and siluer, alle oþere þinges,
Hij trussen to her shippynges.
Þe wynde is riȝth good, saun faile—
Hij setten mast and halen sayle,
And wendeþ toward her londe.
Jesus Crist vs sende his sonde.

Whiles Alisaundre was in medleye,
And slouȝ folk in oþere cuntreye,
Comen folk of Grece and Alisaundre,
And on Olympyas leiden sklaundre,
And seiden wiþ wrong she was quene,
For she hore had ybene;
And sworen, and seiden veire
Alisaundre was fals ayre.
For þis sklaundre þat was so vyle,
And also of grete peryle,
Kyng Philipp, by al his regioun,
Of-sent erle, duk, kniȝth, and baroun,
Þat juggeden alle hem bitwene
Olympyas ne shulde be quene.
Ac miȝth she wers, miȝt[h] she bett,
Jn a castel she was yshett,
And was assigned lyueresoun
Skarslich and nouȝth a foysoun.

Þe kyng dude by his conseile,
And sent to Asserye saunz fayle,
To Cleopatras, þat riche quene,
Þat she shulde his spouse bene.
Þe messagers weren gent barouns;
Þe lefdy leued her rounes,
And granted by conseilyng
To ben yspoused to Philippe þe kyng.
Þe day was sette, wiþouten essoyne—
Þe þrittenþe day at Macedoyne.
Þoo þis message was hom ycome,
Þere was many a bliþe gome.
Of olyue and of muge-floures
Weren ystrewed halle and boures.
Wiþ samytes and baudekyns
Weren curtyned þe gardyns.
Alle þe jnnes of þe toun
Hadden litel foysoun
Þat day þat com Cleopatras,
So mychel poeple wiþ hir was.
She rood on a mule white so mylk;
Her herneys was gold-beten sylk.
Þe prince hire led of Candas,
And of Sydoyne Sir Jonathas.
Ten þousande barons hir comen myde,
And to chirche wiþ hire ryde.
Yspoused she is and set on deys.
Nov gynneþ gest of gret nobleys.

At þe fest was harpyng,
And pipyng and tabournyng,
And sitollyng and trumpyng,
Knijf-pleyeyng and syngyng,
Carolyng and turneieyng,
And wrestlyng and skirmyng.
Þe gamen ne geþ nouȝth al by lyne—
Þere summe leiȝeþ and summe whyne.
Olympyas she hereþ þis,
Jn þe toure whare she shet is.
She wepeþ and syngeþ ‘Weilaway!’
Þat she euere abode þat day.
She clepeþ hire self often wrecche;
She biddes deþ þat he hire fecche,
And seide, ‘Son, O Alisaundre!
Jch abygge of þee þe sklaunder.
Sore of þinkeþ me þis cas
Þat þou fiȝttes wiþ Nicholas.
Haddestou leued in þis londe,
Ne had Ich þoled swiche shonde.’
Miȝth she haue yfounde a knijf,
She had yspilt sone her lijf.
‘Allas’, she seide, ‘J nere aqueld!
For men me clepeþ quene afeld.
Ne may Ich neuer of honour ȝelp,
Alisaunder, bot þou me help.’
Þus she grad ‘Weilaway!’
Tyl þe tyme of heiȝe mydday.

At none riseþ hire worschipes:
Aryued ben hire sones shippes.
He noot nouȝth of þis bridale,
Ne noman telleþ hym þere-of tale.
He greiþes hym in riche weden,
And dooþ drawen a-londe his steden.
He lepeþ vp myd ydone
On a stede of Nerebone.
He dassheþ forþ vpon þe londe,
Þe riche coroune on his honde
Of Nicholas þat he wan.
Biside hym rideþ many a gentil-man.
To þe paleys he comeþ ryde,
And fyndeþ þis feste and al þis pride.
Forþ gooþ Alisaundre, saunz fable,
Riȝth vnto þe heiȝe table,
And þe coroune, wiþ golde biweued,
He setteþ on his fader heued.
His fader praiseþ his prowesse,
Of þe coroune and þe richesse.
Alisaundre gynneþ aboute seen,
And seeþ corouned a straunge quen,
And he ne seiȝ nower Olympias,
Þat his owen moder was.
Jn herte he gynneþ fecche mood,
And lokeþ as he were wood,
And seide, ‘Fader, whan my moder is q[ue]ne,
Þou shalt at hir bridale bene.’
He wassheþ and sitteþ at þe fest;
Men hym serueþ of þe best.
A duk þere was, hoten Lesyas;
To Alisaundre he com gode pas,
And ramproned hym of Olympias.
Alisaundre so anoyed was
Ouer þe table he gan stoupe,
And smoot Lesyas wiþ þe coupe
Þat he fel doun in þe flette—
His eiȝen out of his heued shette.
Hym to awreke kyng Philippe
Ouer þe table gan to skippe,
Ac he lauȝtte sone swiche qued
He was jn borne for neiȝ ded.
Alisaundres folk com flynge,
Fyue hundred vpon a rynge.
Þe tables weren ouerþrowen,
And many kniȝttes wel sone yslawen.
Alisaundre name Cleopatras,
And out hire harshede, grete pas,
And sette hire quyk vpon a mule,
And droof hire out of toun foule.
Vilenye gret to hire was shape,
Bot þoo þat miȝtten her deþ scape.
Cleopatras fleiȝ to hire londe,
Wiþ mychel shame and mychel shonde.
Alisaundre had þat best
Þat was purueied to þat fest—
Golde, and siluer, and riche cloþe
(Þai þat it loren weren wroþe!).
Þus it fareþ at fest wiþ vnwise:
After mete cuntek ariseþ.
Wel is þe moder þat may forþ fede
Childe þat helpeþ hire at nede.
Olympias is now awroke,
Ac ȝut she is in walle biloke,
And noot here-of noþing,
Of Alisaundres contekyng.
Ac Alisaundre sone vnderstant
Hou al þis contek is ywant.
Jt nys non nede here to duelle,
Ne longe tales here to telle.
His fader he sett a raysoun;
He is biknowe he is his son,
And þat he is riȝth heir
After hym to regne, veir.
Al he makeþ his dames pes,
And al sklaunder he makeþ les.
To hir he haþ þe waye ynome.
Joyeful is she of his come.
She wolde hym telle al her ylle,
And he hire hoteþ helden stille:
She shulde hire pleynt do to noþe,
For he wyst wel þe soþe.
Quyk he led hire hom;
Hym folowed many kniȝth and grom.
Þere was [a]gonne newe fest,
And of glev-men many gest.
Kyng Philippe was a male eys.
Alisaundre helde þe deys;
He dude seruen Olympias
Jn golde, in siluer, in brus, in glas.
So riche fest no man ne say
So Alisaunder held þat day.
Kyng Philippe þere-myd was,
And acorded wiþ Olympias.
Also þai seten at þis gestenyng,
Comen messages to Philippe þe kyng.

Mery swiþe it is in halle
Whan þat berdes waweþ alle.
Messagers comeþ flynge
Jn to þe halle tofore þe kynge,
From a cite, on hors and fote,
Þat was Mantona yhote.
Þai seiden hym, at on word,
Þai nolden hym more to lorde,
For hem defenden he ne miȝth.
Her kniȝttes and her dukes wiȝth
Nolden more of hym helde.
Þe kynges veynes wexen chelde,
And nyst what he done miȝth,
Ac by conseil of his kniȝttes
He takeþ Alisaunder þis disray,
Forto amende it ȝif he may.
Alisaunder it haueþ afonge,
Wharfore at table hym þinkeþ longe.
After mete, demeyntenaunt,
To mouþe he sett his olyfaunt;
He bloweþ smert and loude sounes.
Kniȝttes hem armen in court and tounes—
Hij vnderstonden þat it be nede.
Þere comeþ to hym armed on stede
Ten þousande, al prest and ȝare
Jn to bataile forto fare,
And fiftene þousandes o[n] ladden
Þat swerdes and boklers boþe hadden,
And axes, speres, forkes, and slynges,
And alle stalworþe gadelynges.
Alisaundre was swiftest and ȝep,
And on Bulcyfal lepe,
And touched hym myd þe spore,
And he sprong out at þe halle-dore.
Ne shulde foule, gret ne smal,
Haue ysiwed Bulcyfal.
He brouȝth al to wille aȝen,
And hardyed alle his men.
He touched his horne and forþ ride;
Many man hym went mide.
Her waye so riȝth hij nome
Þat þai to þe cite come.
Her drawebrigge hij drowen whate,
And shetten fast her gate.
Alisaunder hem asailed fast,
And wiþ mangenels hem gan gast.
Þai wiþinne to þe walles stowe,
And defended hem wiþ bowe,
Wiþ arblastes, and wiþ stones—
Hij slowȝen men and breken bones.
Wiþ hote water and oþere engyne
Hij defended hem wiþinne.
Ac Alisaundre quyk hete his hynen
Vnder her walles forto mynen,
Wiþ stronge gynnes and deþ werres
Þerewhiles þe myners.
Ac by strengþe ne by gynne
Ne may he þem þat day wynne,
Ne þat oþere, ne þat þrid,
Ne þe fierþe he ne sped.
Ac þoo Alisaunder seiȝ þis,
He forstopped her wayes, jwys,
Þat þere ne miȝth [nouȝth] to her fode
Entren jn, for none gode,
Ne kniȝth, ne sweyn, ne her stren
None wayes ne miȝtten flen.
Þe folk and þe pouerayle
Weren enfamyned, saunfaile,
And on þe richer alday gradden.
Þe riche of hem reuþe hadden,
And seiden hij hadden sikerlich
Leuer to steruen orpedlich
Þan to þolen suiche woo and sorouȝen,
And token conseil on þe morowen
Chaumpe bataile to wenden to.
Riche and pouer alle wolden so.

Ofte springeþ þe briȝth morowe,
Many to blisse, many to sorowe.
Qued it is mychel to borowe,
And wers it is euer to sorowe.
Þoo þat connen nouȝth ben in payse,
Often hij maken hem yuel ataise.
Þe kyng of Mantona and his kniȝttes
Ben y-armed redy to fiȝttes,
Jn breny of steel and riche weden.
Hij don swiþe gon her steden.
Þe gate is vp, and hij oute riden—
Þe stedes rennen wiþ slake bridlen.
Wiþ launces hij gynnen togedre flynge,
Ac hij founden hard encountrynge.
Of kniȝttes þere was stronge metynge,
Hard justes, staf brekynge,
On boþe half loude crieynge,
Kniȝttes þorouȝ-strike, stedes lesinge.
Jn litel while were many yslawe,
And ysmyte þorouȝ wombe and mawe.
Alisaundre ful wel ysaye
Þat it was a dedly playe.
His shille horne he blew þrie,
His kniȝttes forto hardye.
He seiȝ þe kyng of þat cite
Slen his folk wiþouten pite.
He gripeþ in his honde a spere—
Aȝein þe kyng he gynneþ it bere.
He smyteþ hym on þe sheeld ygylt,
Þorouȝ-out þe boord, þorouȝ-out þe felt.
Þorouȝ-out þe breny crepeþe þe egge,
And þorouȝ þe herte, and þorouȝ þe rigge.
Þe spere bresteþ, þe kyng is falle;
Hise kniȝttes fleen wel swiþe alle.
Þat folk is sleyn wiþoute pyte,
And forbrent is þat cite.
Alisaundre aȝein hym diȝttes,
Bliþe in herte, and alle his kniȝttes.
Þoo kyng Philippe it vnderstood,
Wel bliþe was his herte-blood.
[Men tellen in olde mone
Þe qued com[e]þ nowher al one.]

Now ȝee shullen vnderstonde
Comeþ messagers of straunge londe,
And asken of Philippe trovage,
Of wood, and water, and londe, by vsage.
Philippe sore so was ennoyede,
Ac Alisaundre hem haueþ seide:
‘Lordynges, forsoþe, Ich ȝou telle,
He þat made heuene and helle
Afterward made man,
Oure former fader, hete Adam.
To his ofspryng, so þinkeþ me,
Alle he made yliche free—
Water, and wodes, londes, and pleynes.
Ȝif Darrie haueþ þorouȝ his meynes
Don Philippe, my fader, wrong,
Jch am elde ynouȝ and strong
Aȝeins Darrie hym so to wreke
Þat þe werlde shal þere-of speke,
And Ich wiþclepe and wiþstonde
Þe trowage of Grece londe.
Þerwhiles J may hors bistride,
Ne shal he neuer non abide.’
Þoo bispaken þe messageres,
And alle her men of one cheres:
‘Alisaunder,’ hij seiden, ‘jwys,
Þou shalt þee holden for vnwijs,
Ȝif þou, þorouȝ folye oiþer rage,
Wiþholdest Darryes trowage.
A grete storme is falle by a reyn—
Sone wil he daunten þine meyn.
Somme þere dar Darrye manace,
Ac nouȝth ysen hym in any place.
We reden þou lete þi mautalent,
And sende Darrye of Grece rent.’

Kyng Alisaunder, so lyoun kene,
Hoteþ þe messagers out of his eiȝene.
Quyk hij deliuereþ Macedoyne,
And passeþ by Tyre and by Sydoyne,
Þere woned whilom Kyng Appolloyne,
Al forto hij comen to Babyloyne,
And tolden Kyng Darrie of Alisaunder ȝengþe,
His boost, his pride, his hardynesse, his strengþe.
Kyng Darrye swore by his lay
He shulde abygge ȝut sumday.

[A]lisaunder is in his londe,
And haþ sone a newe sonde
From a cite in þe est:
Hij nylleþ don Philippes hest.
Þider he wendeþ wiþ grete preesse,
Þe sturdy cite to a-dresse.
Þerwhiles now yhereþ a caas.
A riche baroun in Grece was
(His name was yhote Pausanias)
Þat loued mychel Olympyas.
So he ȝede and so he sent,
Wiþ writtes and wiþ riche present,
Þat he dude in bed stille
By þe lefdy al his wille,
And bitwene hem hadden yspeke
Of Kyng Philippe to ben awreke.
Wommans hert is wiþ þe werst—
She wil be wroken oiþer to-brest.
By her boþer compasement,
Þe kyng is wounded, verreyment,
Dedly wounded þorouȝ þe nape,
Þat he ne miȝth þe deþ askape.
Alisaunder from his disray
Was comen hom þat ilk day,
And herd of þis noise and cry.
To þe palays he com on hyȝ;
Fonde he stonde Pausanias
By þe quene dame Olympias.
A brode gauelok he lete ride,
And smoot hym þorouȝ-out boþe syde.
To Kyng Philippe he ledd hym þoo,
Þat [his] heued cleued a-twoo.
He þonked Kyng Alisaundre þerof, certe,
And starf alswiþe, wiþouten smerte.

Philippe is ded—as kyng of myche werþe
Richely is he ybrouȝth on erþe.
From þe deþ he ne miȝth flen,
Siþen þe quene awroken wolde ben,
And he þat þe traisoun dede
Was forehakked in þat stede.
Kyng Philippe haþ al þat riȝth
Þat man may to kyng diȝth.
Kyng Alisaunder dooþ of-sende
Alle his dukes and barouns hende—
Erles, kniȝttes, and oþere wise,
Þat of hym holdeþ in to Frise,
Of vche cite þe burgeys
On whom was name of nobleys,
And ȝif any seide noo,
Þe name he wolde wyte of þoo.
His messageres, wiþouten doute,
Rideþ and gooþ her-aboute.
Þe messagers, whan hij comeþ aȝan,
Hem foloweþ many gentil-man,
Boþe on palfrey and on stede,
And clerkes eek, in riche wede.
Vnto Corinthe alle hij comen,
Boþe þe lorde and ek his gromen.
Þere bare Alisaunder coroune,
And took feute of vche toune,
Of duk, erle, kniȝth, burgeys, baroun,
Þat longed vnto his coroun.
Þere he made many kniȝth
Þat was hardy, stronge, and wiȝth,
And ȝaf vche lordyng gret honoure,
And parted wiþ hem his fader tresoure.
Fest he made of nobleye—
Was neuere non swiche yseye.
After mete, onon-riȝttes,
He dooþ noumbre his gode kniȝttes,
And fyndeþ fiftene þousande and hundred seuen,
Alle of Grece yborne, by heuene,
And seuen and tuenty hundreþ sawders,
Stronge in felde, vpon destrers,
And also eiȝtte and fourty þousende
And fyue hundreþ of fotemen he fande.
Þat was, vnder al, sexty þousande and seuen hundre.
Ac ȝut me þinkeþ wel grete wondre
Þat he miȝth, wiþ so fewe,
Al þe werlde hym vnder-þewe,
And þat he so durst and vnderstood,
More awondreþ al my blood.
Ac sooþ it is, cayser ne kyng
Ne may aȝeins Goddes helpyng.
To batail ward he gynneþ hym ȝarke.
Þe somers beeþ trussed, þe shippes þai carke.
His folk, ful of orpedschippe,
Swiþe lepeþ in to þe shippe.
Þe maryneres crieþ and taleþ—
Ancres in to shippe þai haleþ.
Hij drawen sayl to top of mast,
And in to Trace seyleþ on hast.
Þere quyk falleþ to his honde
Alle þe cites of þe londe,
Erles, kniȝttes, and barouns,
Of al Trace regiouns.
Þere he sette his owen assises,
And made baillifs and justises,
And took hem fyue þousande kniȝttes,
And seiled þennes, onon-riȝttes.
Þe þrid day, wiþouten gyle,
He aryued at Cesile,
Þere he had þouȝth to done.
Ac he it aliþed sone,
Boþe wiþ queyntise and wiþ vigoure.
H[e] wan of þat þe honoure,
And many noble batailloure
Þat hym duden siþen socoure.
Jn þ[e] londe he sette his lawȝes;
An soiour of fewe dawes,
His ost he cressed wiþ seuen þousynde
Of noble kniȝttes, so J fynde,
And went hym in to Lumbardye.
Helpe vs alle now Seint Marie.

At Venyse comeþ vp Alisaundre.
Pays men bleu and hyd sklaunder.
His lettres he sent, wiþouten assoyne,
Onon jn to Grace Boloyne,
Jn to Paduie, jn to Moyoun,
And jn to Parme, þat riche toun,
Jn to Pauye, jn to [C]remun,
And to Plesaunce, of grete renoun;
Jn to Nouarre and jn to Dole,
Jn to Verseus, a cite of scole,
And jn to Melane, þat þe maistrie
Bereþ ouere al Lumbardye.
Her conseil was sone ynome—
To wenden to þat riche gome,
And holden of hym al her londe.
Þe keyes hij token in his honde
Of her cites, of her honoure,
And maden hym her liege seignoure.
He had of hem al þat he wolde—
Steden, armes, siluer, and golde,
And many stronge werreyoure
Þat siþen hym dude grete honoure.
Þennes he sent jn to Tusk, jn Tuskan,
And þennes hym com many a man,
And from Florence, and from Shene,
Many kniȝth wiþ armes clene.
From Curtyne and from Rauenne
Hym com kniȝttes and mychel wynne.
From Curtynan and from Asise
Hym com kniȝttes of grete prise.
From Gobyn and from Orbenete,
From Viterbe and from Arethe,
Hym com richesse and grete sonde,
And fele kniȝttes to his honde.
Atte last his lettres come
Jn to þe cite of grete Rome.
Þe riche poeple and þe senas
Spaken to-gedres of þis cas.
Jch ȝou sigge, verrayment,
Hij s[en]tten by on assent
A riche coroune of rede golde,
For he her lorde ben sholde,
And two þousande of noble kniȝttes
Þat in bataile weren wiȝttes
(Marcus he hete þat hem ladd—
Alisaunder none better hadd)
And fourty þousande mark yshade,
Forto ben of his frenderade.
Þe Romeynes hym sendeþ þis prise,
And gretyng, and ‘redy to his seruise’.
He greteþ þe Romaynes wiþ chere bliþe,
And wendeþ of londe, also swiþe;
Nille he more hij ben anoyed,
Ne of his grete ost destroyed.
Quyk he shippes jn to Libye
Wiþ al his faire chyualrye,
And in þat grete regioun
Nas castel, cite, ne toun
Þat nam bi loue oiþer miȝtte
Lesse þan jn fourtene niȝtte.
Siþen he passed stille, j-wys,
A water þat comeþ from Paradys.
Barouns and kniȝttes alle of þat londe
Ȝolden hem onon vnder his honde,
Wiþouten bataile, wiþouten dent,
Þat he wan al, verreyment—
Her auȝtte and her chyualrye
Hij ȝolden to his seignourye.
Now haþ Alisaundre so myche gynge
Þat non it noot bot heuene-kynge.
Shippes he dooþ make snelle—
Many hundreþ, Ich ȝou telle.
He soiourneþ and his folk wiþ hym
Jn a cite þat is yhote Tripolyn.
A temple was in þe markat
Of T[e]ruagaunt and Balat.
On ymage was þere-inne,
Yȝoten al of golde fyne.
Sonne, and mone, and sterren seuene,
Was þere-inne purtraied, and heuene.
Þe kyng ofsent, Ich vnderstonde,
Þan a bisschoppe of þe londe,
And asked hym in whas honoure
Was ymade þat figure.
Þe bisshoppe wep for herte ermyng,
And þus he seide to þe kyng:
‘Þere was sumtyme ouer vs
A kyng þat hiȝth Neptanabus,
Curteys in halle, in werre wiȝth.
He ne ȝaf nouȝth of no fiȝth—
Kyng non of none londe
Jn bataile miȝth hym wiþstonde.
Þis ymage he made here
Jn þe honoure of Jubiter.
Sonne and mone þat beeþ in heuene,
And þe planetes, alle seuene,
And þe cours of þe sterren,
By hem he iugged alle his werren.
Whan any kyng hym wolde assaile,
He couþe þerby seen, saunfaile,
And by his charme mychel wonder—
Hou he shulde hem brynge vnder.
And atte last fel a cas,
Of fele kynges hated he was,
And quyk on vche half þai gunne hym assaile.
He loked in his art, saunfayle,
And seiȝ he shulde ben ouercome.
By niȝth fledd þat gentyl gome—
Noman ne couþe, for no þing,
Siþen here of hym tiþing.’
Kyng Alisaunder teres gan stoppe,
And seide vnto þe bisshoppe:
‘Bisshoppe,’ he seide, ‘þere is a sklaunder
Yleide on me, Kyng Alisaunder,
Þat J shulde ben biȝeten amys.
Telle me who my fader is,
Pryuely bituene þee and me—
Þi trauaile shal J quyte þee.’
Þe bisshop graunted þe kynges talent,
And dude hym on a vestement,
And made on Sarsynes wyse
To Jubiter sacrifise;
And after longe sacrifyeyng,
He com and seide to þe kyng
Stillich, bitwene his lyppe,
Þat his fader hiȝth kyng Philippe.
Kyng Alisaunder vpon hym louȝ,
And in herte was bliþe ynouȝ
Þoo alþerfirst he vnderstood
Þat he was riȝth of kynges blood.
He ȝaf þe bisshoppe, to gode hans,
Riche beiȝes, besauntz, and pans,
Cloþes, aȝttes, wiþouten ende.
Now agynneþ gestes hende.

Noyse is gret wiþ tabour and pype,
Damoysels playen wiþ peren ripe.
Ribaudes festeþ also wiþ tripe;
Þe gestour wil oft his mouþe wype.
Alisaunder is a noble man—
His ost telle no wiȝth ne can.
Hij shippen alle in shippes gode;
Þe cee ferd also a wode.
Kynges, princes, of fele londes,
Quyk hem ȝolden to his hondes.
Hij brouȝtten hym jewels wiþ riche golde,
And hem to his wille ȝolde,
So þat hij comen to þe cite of Tyre,
Þe noblest cite of þat empyre.
Alisaundre hij despisen,
His messagers and his justisen.
Gates hij shetteþ and barbecane—
Hij manneþ hem wel, wiþouten wane.
Vp þai setten her magnels,
And arblastes, wiþ querels,
And sendeþ Alisaunder to seye
He goo to Macedoyne and pleye—
His berde shal hore, his folk steru[e]
Ar any man of Tyre hym serue.
Whan þis to Alisaunder was yseide,
Out of wytt he warþe anoyede.
He hete quyk, wiþoute pyte,
His men assaile þat cite.
Dieu mercy! to mychel harme
Many kniȝth þere gan hym arme.
Þere men miȝtten quyk yseen
Many hors wiþ trappe wryen,
And kniȝttes beren baneres and shelde;
Of hem shoon þe brode felde.
Þoo þat þai founden wiþouten þe toun
Wiþ sharp swerd hij leiden adoun.
Þe fote-men and þai on hors
Trauaileden stronge her cors
Wiþ launceynge and wiþ ridyng,
Wiþ þraweynge and wiþ mynyng,
Wiþ gredyng and wiþ þretyng,
And wilde-fire slyngyng.
Michel hij duden her meyn
Þe walles to fellen on þe pleyn,
Ac þe citezeines weren so wiȝth,
And ynouȝ couþen of fiȝth—
Wiþ peises, stones, and gauelok,
Her fon hij gynnen fast to knok.
Wiþ hoot water and boyled metal
Hij defenden her wal;
Wiþ longe billes ymade for þe nones
Hij to-keruen her bones.
Þere layen in litel stounde
Þat staruen wiþ ded[ly] wounde.
Of summe was þe brayn out squatt,
Al vnder þe yrnen hatt.
Summe wiþ peys was to-frussht,
Summe wiþ gauelok to deþ lussht—
Þere was sone in þat prees
Many childe faderles.
Þe slauȝtte fel wiþouten þe wal
On Alisaunders folk neiȝ al.
Þoo Alisaunder seiȝ þis,
A-rovme he drouȝ quyk, jwys,
And sett a ruet to his mouþe.
To alle his folk he was couþe—
Alle hij leten þe assailyng,
And abouten hym comen flyngyng.
He bad hem make pauyloun
Al abouten þat riche toun,
And hem from þe assautt drawe,
Where many of hise weren yslawe.
So þai deden, and maden tente,
Al abouten, riche and gente,
And afterward, þoo it was niȝth,
Hij founden sleyn of her kniȝth
Ten hundreþ and sumdele moo.
For hem was made wel mychel woo,
For hij weren kniȝttes of grete werþe;
Þai were faire brouȝth on erþe.
Alisaunder hem solaced þus:
‘Lordynges, ne beeþ nouȝth anguisshous,
Þeiȝ ȝee habbeþ ȝoure frendes ylore.
Lorde and frende Ich wil be þerfore.
Men mote boþe wynne and lese—
Chaunce ne lete[þ] noman chese.
Ar longe, hij mowen ben syker,
Jch shal hem ȝelden wel þis byker.’
Now resteþ Alisaunder jn þis siggyng—
Yhereþ now al oþer þing.

Herd ȝee habbeþ, Ich wil reherce,
Hou þe messagers comen from Perce
For trowage and Philippe ennoyed—
Hou Alisaunder it hem wiþseide.
Now atte first þe messagers
Beeþ ycome to her empirers.
Hij saluen Darrye her lorde,
And siggen hym þis worde:
‘Lorde, we weren in þi message
Jn Grece after trewage,
Ac it is wiþseid in al þing,
Of a ȝonge kniȝth þat þinkeþ be kyng.
Worþes þee non while he may lyue—
Oiþer þou most it al forȝyue,
Oiþer, he þee sent to sigge,
Dereynen it wiþ swerdes egge.’
Darrie startleþ for þise tydynges,
And makeþ anguisshous þretynges.
He takeþ wiþ hym many a duk
Þat bileueþ on Belsabuk,
And gooþ myd hym to on orchard
And parlement hij haldeþ hard.
Jch ȝou telle, litel, jwys,
Of Alisaunder he heldeþ prys,
And [by] hire aldre radd and want
A lettre [to] hym is ysant,
By riche dukes þrittene.
Bouȝ hi baren of olyue grene.
Þe duk þere was of Ermynye,
Of Esclaueyne, and of Sulye,
Of Pyncenarde, and of Mede.
Þoo of Nynyue, good at nede,
Þe duk of Japhes and Taberye,
Þe duk of Fryse, and of Hungrye,
Þe duk of Moreb, and Calebyne,
And þe duk of Palestyne;
Þai comen alle, honde in honde,
Toforne Alisaundre in Tyre londe,
Vche wiþ bouȝ of olyue,
Þat was tokne of pays and of l[o]ue,
And token hym þat Darrye hym sent—
Þre þinges to present:
A scourge and a toppe of nobleys,
And ful of golde an haum[u]deys,
And a lettre, par amoure,
Of whiche swiche was þe tenure:
‘Darrye, kyng of alle kynges,
Þe godes þat haueþ to eldringes,
For his nexte by-syb cosyn
Beeþ Jubiter and Appolyn,
Gouernoures of lewed and lered
Þat beeþ in þis middellerd,
Sendeþ gretyng wiþouten amoure
To a ȝonge fals robboure.
Alisaunder, þou conion wood,
Jn þe spilleþ þi faye blood!
Þou hast wiþholde my trowage,
And ydon me more outrage—
Brent myne tounes, myne men yslawe.
Þou art worþi to ben ydrawe.
Nere-þe-lees, þou canst no good;
Jch wyte it al þi ȝonge blood.
Þere-fore Ich habbe þee ysent
A top and scourge to present,
And wiþ golde a litel punge,
For þou hast ȝeres ȝonge.
Wende þou hom þerewiþ and pleye,
Jch þee rede, ȝonge boye!
Oiþer Ich þee shal doo bete and dynge
Wiþ a fewe gadelynge,
And afterwardes quyk þee flen,
And alle þi folk wiþ sorouȝ slen.
Wenestou to be my pere?
Nay, jwys, wrecche pautenere!
Jch haue moo kniȝttes to werren
Þan ben in þe walken sterren,
And moo men wiþ stronge bones
Þan ben jn þe cee grauel-stones.
Fleiȝe now swiþe, þat þou ne be yfounde,
Oiþer men þee shulle dryue wiþ hounde.’
Þis was þe wrytt þad Darrye sent
To Alisaunder to present,
Ac of Alisaunder ȝee shullen here
Hou he it tourned in oþere manere.

Alisaunder wel wele seeþ
Þat his kniȝttes dismaied beeþ.
He leiȝeþ and swereþ by þe sonne
Mede and Perce he haþ ywonne,
‘Forþi þis scourge shal signifye
Þat J shal wynne þe maistrye
Of Darrye, and also chaste
Hym and hise, þe mo[st]e and þe laste.
Þe top þat is rounde aboute
Signifieþ also, saunz doute,
Þat þe werlde þat rounde is
Shal be myne also, j-wys.
And bitokneþ by þe punge
Þat Ich shal of elde and ȝonge
Of þis midlerde tol afonge.
Siggeþ Darrye þis ilk songe,
And þat Ich nylle myd hym acorde,
Bot wiþ swerd and speres oorde.’
Þise messageres hereþ þis tale,
And wendeþ hom, by doune and dale.
Alisaunder alle hise nedes
Aȝeins Tyre swiþe spedes.
Þe mysdoers he dooþ ben yslawe,
And to þe oþere he ȝiueþ lawȝe
(Ȝif lawȝe were of þe grete lordynges
Js Darrye her lorde and kyng).
Alisaunder sett þere his baillyf.
To Darrie ward he went blijf,
Ac he was letted by þe waye,
At many bataile, J ȝou saye.

Darrye sitteþ at mete, þe riche kyng,
And holdeþ riche gestenyng,
Of dukes, erles, and ammyraile,
And of soudeyns also, saun fayle.
Þise messageres—alistneþ alle!—
Honde in honde comeþ in to halle.
Hij greten Darrye þe heiȝe kyng,
And telleþ hym stronge tiþing:
‘Sir,’ hij seiden, ‘it is no fals sclaunder
Þat gooþ by londe of Alisaunder.
Jt is an hardy flumbarlyng,
Wijs and war, in al þing.
He haþ wonne Egipte and Libye,
Cesile, Rome, and Lumbardy,
Calabre, Poyle, al to Burgoyne,
Cipres also and Esclauoyne.
Hym ne may cuntre wiþstonde
Þat he wil do to his honde.
By ȝoure skourge he seide on hast
Þat he ȝou shulde adaunte and chast.
By þe top and by þe purs
Ȝut he seide mychel wers—
Þat he shulde of þe werlde and þee
Taken tol and maister bee.
Tyre is fallen vnder his honde;
Comen he is jn to þi londe—
Fyre and swerd is his acorde.
We nabbeþ ygabbed neuere a worde.’

Darrie from hym þe table shett,
Þat it wendeþ in þe flett.
He þroweþ legges ouere oþer,
And makeþ þretynges, ful a foþer,
And clepeþ his chauncelere,
And hoteþ hym sende fer and nere
To hise justises lettres hard,
And hij þe contreies t[a]ken ferd,
To-frusshe þat gadelyng and to-bete,
And non of hem on lyue ne lete.
Þise lettres to his justises comen,
Ac þai hym senten oþere domen—
Þat Alisaunder had wiþ his hand
Nere ywonne al þat lande.
Men dreden hym, on vche half,
So chalf þe bere and shep þe wolf.
Vche man hadd grete howe
Forto loke þat was his owe.
To cite, castel, and to toure,
Vche man drouȝ to socoure,
And bot he dude by oþere conseyle
Alisaunder was at his tayle.
Þat londe was lorne, saunz dotaunce,
Euermore wiþ þappurtenaunce.
Whan Darrie al þis vnderstood,
He was neiȝ of wytt wood.
He sent a lettre, wiþoute lettyng,
To Alisaunder and gretyng,
Þat he shulde come as amy,
And don hym in his mercy,
Amende his trespas, by juggement—
Good shulde ben þacordement.
Alisaundre sent wiþ-segge
Orde of spere and swerdes egge
Shulden at her accordyng ben,
And non oþer, kyng ne quen,
And hoteþ þe duk and his kniȝttes
Tournen to Darrye, onon-riȝttes.

Mery it is in June and hoot firmament;
Fair is þe karole of maydens gent,
Boþe in halle and ek in tente.
Jn justes and fiȝttes nys oþere rente
Bot bones knusshed and hard dent.
Ac þat is al Alisaundres entent.
Quy[k] he dooþ his bemen blowe,
An hundreþ vpon a rowe.
His chymbe-bellen he dooþ rynge,
And dooþ dasshe grete tabourynge.
Ouer al þe ost he dooþ crye
Þat hij wendeþ alle to Arabye,
And setten fyre and wilde-bronde
Quyk on kyng Darryes londe,
Brenne castel and brenne cite,
And brenne doune-riȝth, wiþouten pite.
Sone was don þe kynges heste.
Hij charged many a selcouþe beeste
Of olifauntz, and ek camayles,
Wiþ armure and ek vitayles,
Longe cartes wiþ pauylounes,
Hors and oxen wiþ venisounes,
Assen and mulen wiþ her stouers;
Þe kniȝttes riden on destrers,
Alle y-armed swiþe wel,
Wiþ bryny and launce and swerd of stel.
Many shelde þere was shynende,
And many banere ratelynde,
Many stede loude nayȝende,
And to Arabye lepynde.
Þe folk of Arabye londe
Habbeþ his comyng vnderstonde,
And haueþ ymade dyche and walles,
And schette þe gates of þe cites alle.
Wiþ þe power of vche contreye
Þat hij couþen til hem purueye,
To Alisaunder hij ȝiuen byker,
And many stronge bataille, siker.
Ac helpen nouȝth it ne miȝth,
For Alisaunder and alle his kniȝttes
Hem to pieces þai gonne talle,
So bocher þat hog vpon his stalle.
Dukes, princes, barouns, kniȝttes,
Þat hem wiþstonden myd to fiȝttes,
Hij weren to-frussht from foot to croun,
So þe hynde is of þe lyoun,
And so þe tygre þat fynt ystole
Her whelpes oiþer forhole—
Wiþ mouþ she brenneþ beest and man,
Bot she keuer hem sone aȝan.
Alle hij slen doune-riȝth wiþ swerde,
Bot hem þat comen to acorde,
And ȝelden hym castel and cite—
Hem he took in to pyte,
And ouer hem sette gode warde.
Þe oþere he slouȝ on deþ hard,
Wiþ fyre brennyng and wiþ swerd,
Wiþ axe, wiþ mace, wiþ speres orde.
Sexty cites in þat quarter
He forbrent wiþ wylde-fyre,
And many hundreþ þousande weren yspild,
Kniȝth, sweyn, burgeys, lefdy, and child.
Þe dukes of þe londe wiþ howe
To Kyng Darrye beeþ yflowe,
And makeþ pleynt and makeþ cry
On Alisaunder her enemy—
Telleþ þe slauȝtte and þe brennyng,
And biddeþ hym smertly helpyng,
And of-sendeþ quyk socour hende,
Al in to þe werldes ende.
Fyue hundreþ kniȝttes, saun faile,
He haþ redy to bataile.
Who so wil now ȝiuen lyst,
Here bigynneþ þe romaunce best.

Darrie þe soudan, maister of alle kyng,
Js strongelich anoyed of selcouþ tiþing.
He is yshet in a verger,
And wiþ hym many bolde cayser,
Alle of Jnde in to Mount Taryn
And of Affrike to þe cite Daryn.
Þere was many a Sarsyn
And longe-berded Barbaryn;
Bitwene Tygre and Eufraten
Seten alle þise heþen men.
Þere was Jonas of Sklaueyne,
And Joachym, duk of Coloyne,
And Antiphilus of Barbarye,
And Joachym of Tabarye,
[Of] Capadoce and Saturnyn,
And of Saba þe duk Mauryn
(He was of Kaymes kynrede—
His men ne couþen speke ne grede,
Bot als houndes grenne and berken,
So vs siggen þise clerken).
An hundreþ þousande conseilers
Wiþ Darrie weren in þat vergers.
Vp he dresseþ heued and swire,
And gynneþ speke on þis manere:
‘Ore sa tost! Salome my cosyn,
And A[rc]hela[u], of Jopes lyn,
And of Calden þe duk Tyryne,
Ȝee seeþ my woo, ȝee seeþ my pyne—
Takeþ fourty þousande kniȝttes,
And wel ȝou armeþ onon-riȝttes,
And wendeþ toforne ost myne
Al to þe castel of Baryne,
And ȝif ȝee meteþ þat robboure,
Ȝiueþ hym mysauentoure.
Cutteþ his heued his body fro,
And mychel honoure J shal ȝou do.
Beeþ hardy and manly dooþ,
For we ȝou siweþ after, for sooþ.’

Salome and hise felawes
Þis heste token wel yfawes.
Þe stedes þai gunne by mane grope,
And lopen on sadel wiþouten stirope.
Fourty þousande heþen kniȝtten
Wiþ her lorde to werre hem diȝtten.
Hij weren þe best of þe disray
Þat he maden þat ilk day.
Þere was many gounfanoun
Of gylt sendel and cyclatoun;
Many faire heþen lefdy
Þere last seiȝen her amy.
Hij wenten quyk; hem þouȝtten longe—
Þai gonnen many jolyf songe.
And euere þai seiden as þai gonne ride,
Kyng Alisaunder ne durst hem abide;
For ȝif he miȝth ben yfounde,
Þai wolden hym brynge to Darry ybounde.
Þus þai wenten ouer londe,
Til þai comen to one stronde
Jn a mede, vnder a doune.
Þere þai telden her pauyloune,
Þat niȝth and hem resteþ þare,
Mid warde þat was good and war.
Amorowe, whan þe day was cler,
Salome lep on his destrer,
Y-armed and gird wiþ stelen bronde,
And dassht hym quyk ouer þe stronde,
And rideþ swiþe so foule may flen,
Alisaundres ost al forto seen.
He haþ perceyued by his siȝth
Þat he ne haþ aȝein hym miȝth.
He rideþ aȝein to Darry þe kyng,
And telleþ hym newe tydyng:
‘Sir,’ he seide, ‘Alisaundre þi foo,
Fel so lyoun, wilde so roo,
Liggeþ now wiþ swiche preye
Þat he wriȝeþ al þe contreye.
Swiche hym þreteneþ ne durren hym seen—
By oþere rade ȝee moten been.
Sendeþ Ymagu [b]y ȝoure standard,
And Airchillaus in þe first ward.’

Salome was a faire kniȝth,
Fair in chaumber, stronge in fiȝth.
His heued was crul and ȝeluȝ þe her,
Croune þere-onne, and whyt his swer,
Platte feet and longe honde—
Nas fairer body in a londe.
Darrie was last comynde,
Wiþ fyue hundreþ þousynde.
Of Capadoce Archillaus
Was a kyng ful orgoillous—
Tuenty þousande of þat londe
He had of kniȝttes to his honde.
Þise comen tofore Darrye,
And seiden: ‘Sir, þee þar nouȝth carye!
Of Alisaunder we shullen þee wreke
Þat þe werlde shal þere-of speke.
We willeþ hym nyme and fast bynde
Boþe his honden his rigge byhynde,
And ȝelden hym þee al to þi wille:
Alle his folk we willeþ spille.
Ȝiue me, sir, þe first trauaile—
His owen body Ich wil assaile,
And do þine ne[ve]we conseilynge,
Þine hornes blowe and belles rynge,
And lete armen þine Affricanes,
Þe Turkeyns and þe Arabians,
And take þi standarde to Amalgu,
And al þin ost do ordeyne now.
Fourty þousande al astore
Of olyfauntz lete gon a-fore,
Vpe vche olifaunt a castel;
Þere-inne doo tuelue kniȝttes armed wel.
Hij shullen helde þe skirmyng
Aȝeins Alisaunder þe kyng.’
Darrie was ful wel ypayed
Of þat Archillaus had seid.
Þe gloue he ȝiueþ hem bitwene,
Kyng Alisaunder forto slene.
Archelaus þere-of ȝaf graunt,
Ac he braak þat couenaunt.
Darries folk was gon a[l] or[d]eyn[ed]
And ypaueillound in a pleyn.
Ouer a water passed hij beeþ;
Aiþer ost to oþer seeþ.
Kyng Darrye and Salome
Habbeþ ypreched her meynee
Wel to fiȝtth, wel to stonde,
Her foon to dryuen out of londe,
And warde setteþ forto a-morowe.
Jesus shilde vs alle from sorowe!
Listneþ now and leteþ gale,
For now ariseþ riche tale.

In tyme of Maij hoot is in boure.
D[iuer]s in mede spryngeþ suete floure,
And þe lefdy þe kniȝth honureþ.
Trewe herte in loue dureþ.
At gode nede coward byhynde coureþ;
At large ȝift þe hungry loureþ.
Gentyl-man his lemman dooþ honoure
Jn burgh, in cite, in castel, in toure.
Darrie þe kyng and Salome
Habbeþ ydiȝth her meignee.
Þe olifauntz tofore hij diȝtteþ,
Als erly as þe sonne hym liȝtteþ.
Fourty þousande castels þere waren
Þat twelue oiþer sextene knyȝtes baren.
Þise shulden wiþstonde hard,
And sauen al þe forme ward.
Archelaus after hem cam,
Þat of Darrie on honde nam
Alisaunder hym ded to ȝelde,
Wiþ tuenty þousande briȝth shelde.
Of Affryk þe kyng Tauryn
Also fele brouȝth wiþ hym.
Antiphilus was nexte, of Jnde,
And had also tuenty þousynde.
Saturnus of Barbarye
Led after twenty þousande hardye.
Jonas brouȝth after of Cartage
Twenty þousande kniȝttes sauage.
Mauryne brouȝth after of hounde londe
Twenty þousande, of felle honde.
Negusar, prince of Nynyuen,
Þritty þousande led after and ten.
Oxeatre, Darries odam,
After þise ostes cam—
Fifty þousande he ledd of kniȝth,
Jn bataile stronge and wiȝth.
Darrie com after, blyue,
Wiþ his children and his wyue,
And wiþ his syster and his meynage—
An hundreþ þousande kniȝttes sauage
Þat rideþ in his compaignye,
And Salome dude hem gye.
Þere was gret nayȝeing of stede;
Þere was many word of pryde;
Þere was many riche wede,
Of gold and siluer, white and rede.
Alisaunder sytt on a samyt,
And plaieþ atte ches in his delyt.
Noot he nouȝth of þis comyng,
Ac a kniȝth þere comeþ arnyng,
And seiþ: ‘Vp, sir, on hast, on hast!
Here comeþ Darrie wiþ al his cast.
He comeþ wiþ grete here—
Jt is wonder þe grounde hym may bere.’
Þe kyng gradde: ‘Armeþ onon!’
To armes hij flouȝen euerychon.
Many þousande gentil kniȝttes
Þere weren y-armed onon-riȝttes.
Tholomeus was his stiward,
Þat neuere nas founden coward.
Tuelue þousande he led tofore,
Gode kniȝttes and douȝtty a-store.
Antigonus his marschal was—
Nobler kniȝth on lyue nas.
Þis brouȝth, so J fynde,
Afterwardes tuelue þousande.
Mark of Rome and duk Tyberye
(None better nere, J [dar] swerie)
Þise tuenty þousande ladde;
Nas þere neuere a body badd.
Aymes of Archad and Perducas,
Noble princes in euery cas,
Tuenty þousande ledden, saun faile,
None better in bataile.
Permayne þe last was,
Wiþ Nichan[o]re and Philatas—
Þe fader and þe sones tweye.
Nere none better in no contreye.
Þise brouȝtten fourty þousynde,
And comen sarrilich byhynde.
Alisaunder was wijs and war;
Now he was here, now he was þar,
And bad hem be hardy and noþing drede—
He wolde hem warant in euery nede:
‘Bigynneþ ȝoure foomen coile,
Al to sleiȝtte, and nouȝth to spoyle.
Ȝee shullen habben after bataile
Al þe biȝete, saun faile.
Leteþ hem passen wiþouten assaile,
And siweþ me, after my taile.
Nassaileþ none of alle þise ostes,
Bot siweþ me þus acostes
Al forto Ich habbe Darrie founde,
And þan leggeþ on to grounde.’
Þus hij passeden, ost by ost,
Wiþouten fiȝttyng, wiþouten bost,
Forto þai comen, saunz faile,
To þe kynges ost of Tessaile.
Þis kyng gan Alisaunder myssigge,
And first hym mette wiþ speres egge
Þorouȝ shelde and breny and aketoun—
Þe spere tobrast on two trunsoun.
Ac Alisaunder hym hitte, certe,
Þorouȝ shelde and breny, and þorouȝ þe herte.
Arethas he het, nou he is ded—
Nille he more man wa[i]ten qued.
Alisaundres folk gan crye,
And seide in grete melodye:
‘Oure kyng haþ þe first afeld!
Oure is þe maistrie of þe feld.’

Now rist grete tabour-betyng,
Blaweyng of pypes, and ek trumpyng,
Stedes lepyng and ek arnyng,
Of sharpe speres and aualyng,
Of stronge kniȝttes and wiȝth metyng;
Launces breche and jn crepyng,
Kniȝttes fallyng, stedes lesyng,
Herte and heuedes þorouȝ-keruyng,
Swerdes draweyng, lymes lesyng,
Hard assaylyng and strong defendyng,
Stif wiþstondyng and wiȝth fleiȝeyng;
Sharp of-takyng, armes spoilyng,
So gret bray, so gret crieyng,
For þe folk þere was dyeyng,
So mychel noyse of dent of swerd,
Þe þonder ne had nouȝth ben herd,
Ne þe sonne ne had ben yseye,
For þe dust and þe poudreye;
Ne þe walken sen men ne miȝth,
So gret was quarels and arewes fliȝth.
Alisaunder ferde on vche half
Als it were an hungry wolf,
Whan he comeþ amonges shepe—
Wiþ teeþ and clowes he gynneþ hem strepe.
A jolyf kyng, ycleped Barrys,
Spyeþ Alisaundres prijs.
He smoot þe stede and leteþ þe bride,
Aȝeins hym he gynneþ ryde.
Alisaunder he smoot vnder þe arme;
Þe launce passed wiþouten harme.
Ac Alisaunder hym smoot on þe breest,
And þe spere þorouȝ his body þreest.
To þe grounde fel þat cors—
Nyme who so wolde his hors.
Alisaunder and Bulcifal
Sleeþ þat he meteþ al.
Þis bataile distincted is
Jn þe Freinsshe, wel jwys.
Þerefore [J] habbe [hit] to coloure
Borowed of Latyn a nature,
Hou hiȝtten þe gentyl kniȝttes,
Hou hij contened hem in fiȝttes,
On Alisaunders half and Darries also.
Ȝif ȝee willeþ listnen to,
Ȝee shullen yhere geste of mounde—
Ne may non better ben yfounde.

Now telleþ þis gest, saunz faile,
So on þe shyngel liþe þe haile
Euery kniȝth so lijþ on oþer.
Many man so lees his broþer,
Many lefdy hire amy,
Many maiden her drury;
Many childe his fader lees—
Gret and dedly was þe prees.
Among þe toyle Hardapilon,
On of Alisaunders fon,
Seiȝ Theolomeu, Alisaunders stiward,
Bryngen Darryes folk dounward.
A riche kyng he was of Mede—
He smoot wiþ spores his good stede.
A-side he com and smoot Tholomewe,
Þat he of his hors hym þrewe.
Tholomeu on fote lep,
And who hym þrewe he name gode kep.
He smoot his stede in þe mane—
Þe heued fel fro þe body clane.
Hardapilon lep on foot,
To Tholomew wiþ swerd and smoot,
And a-two cleued his shelde
Þat it fleiȝ in þe felde.
Tholomeu smoot Hardapilon
Vpe helme and bacynett onon;
Þe sharp suerd carf þorouȝ boþe,
And þorouȝ his heued, doun to þe toþe.
He lep on his owen stede,
And wiȝth gan aboute rede.
Many abouȝth it þertil
Þat he of his hors fel.
Antigon, ouere al,
Was Alisaunders mareschal.
Þis mette wiþ Ardomodo,
Þat many man had don woo.
Ardomodo his spere lete glide
Þorouȝ Antigones lefte side.
He hirte hym sore, sikerlich,
Ac it nas nouȝth dedlich.
Antigone smoot hym bet—
He hyt hym þorouȝ þe hert pyt.
His feet he knytt on his owen hors,
And todrawe dude his corps.
Wiþ Alisaunder so was Clitoun,
An hardy duk of grete renoun.
He was Antigones felawe—
Many he brouȝth of lijf-dawe.
Now he meteþ wiþ Tauryne,
A duk, a riche Sarsyne.
To euene heiȝ comen boþe,
For whiche þing hij weren wroþe.
Her horses heuedlyng metten,
Þat hij to grounde aswouȝe sterten.
Jch ȝou sigge þat þe steden
Boþe laien standeden.
Clitoun so gan first adawe
And his lymes to hym drawe.
Tauryn, þoo he yseiȝ þat,
Bigan to dresse vp his hatt.
Clitoun roos first, so J fynde,
And smoot Tauryn vprisynde
On þe helme, wiþ þe swerd,
Þat þe dynt stood at þe gird.
Wiþ Darry so was Negusar,
Kyng of Nynyue, wijs and war.
Þat folk tofore hym fleiȝ, certe,
Tofore þe lyoun so dooþ þe herte.
He smoot Jophas vpon þe mounde,
Jn to þe sadel at one wounde.
Maglan he took on þe shelde
Þat al þe syde rood in þe felde.
Fulbor he smoot vpon þe rygge—
To þe nauel com þe egge.
Ramel he took on þe wombe,
And roof hym þorouȝ als a lombe.
Þere nas kniȝth on þat syde
Þat his strook durst abyde.
Gysearme and swerd in honde boþe
Negussar so bare, forsoþe.
A boþe half duk and kniȝth
He leide on and slouȝ doun-riȝth.
Philotas seiȝ and vnderstood
Hou Negussar fauȝth as he were wood.
He smoot to hym and dude hym harme,
For of he carf his riȝth arme.
Negussar ful wel yfeled
Hou his riȝth arme lay in þe feld.
Myd þe lefte he name vp his gysarme,
And þouȝth to do Philotas harme.
On two peces he had hym gert,
Ne had Clitoun comen ride, cert,
Þat put forþ stelen sheld,
Negussar dynt þat wiþheld.
Þe gysarme carf in þe steel hard,
Fer ouer þe mydward.
Als he it tukked out to habbe,
Philot hym ȝaf anoþere dabbe,
Þat [in] þe shelde þe gysarme
Bilaft þoo, and ek þe arme.
Negussar so from hym sterte.
Wiþ two kniȝttes ȝut he mette,
Myd his heued and myd his cors,
Ȝut he feld hem of her hors,
Ac Philotas was at his regge,
And smoot hym wiþ þe suerdes egge,
Þat þe heued fel a-doun.
Nas þere in Perce swiche a baroun.
Wil he, nyl he, ded he is—
Al Perce for hym careþ, jwys.
Permenio, duk of Alisaunders ost,
Biside aleide mychel bost,
For he smoot Fabular þe admiraile
Þorouȝ þe breest-brede, saun faile,
And Macan wiþ þe selue spere
Þorouȝ þe wombe he gan hym bere.
Þe spere tobrast, and wiþouten doute
Foure kniȝttes hym comen aboute,
Wiþ launces in her hondes alle.
He bilaued so a walle;
Jch ȝou sigge, saunz dotaunces,
Alle foure hij breken her launces.
Permenio his swerd out drouȝ,
And Helein þan first he slouȝ,
For so he took on his bacyn
Þat he cleued hym to þe chyn.
After he rauȝtte Agilon,
Þat he cutted his nekbon.
Þe þrid, Gildas, fast fyked,
Ac þorouȝ þe þrote he hym stiked.
Þe fierþe, Maurub, a faire baroun,
He cleued to þe breest adoun.
His hors he ȝaf to Orest,
Þat was to grounde of hors yþrest.
Orest he brouȝth on stede,
And bad hym done gode nede.
To many on, in litel stounde,
Permenio ȝaf dedly wounde.
Oxeatre had sones two—
Fairer ne miȝtten on grounde goo.
Darrie þe kyng was her em
(Of his syster was þat tem).
Þise flowen from Permenione
Aȝeins Nichanore sone.
Þe on was cleped Amanas,
And þe oþer hiȝth Romadas.
Þise braken at ones afore
Her launces on Nichanore,
And he hitte Amanas
Wiþ his spere þat sharp was,
Jn þe oyl[li]er of þe eiȝen,
Þat boþe hise eiȝen oute fleiȝen;
Þe tronchoun brake in þe brayn.
Þat oþere he took w[iþ] mayn,
Þat he hym cleued wiþ his swerd broun
To his sadles arsoun.
Michel woo and grete wailynges
Was made for þoo ȝongelynges.
Of Oxeatre and Darrie also—
Alle Perce made for hem woo.
On oþer half hij leggeþ on,
So þe mason on þe ston.
Þere was many stede yshent,
And many gode hauberk to-rent.
Many kniȝth wiþ deþes wounde
Gnouȝ þe gras on þe grounde.
Ac Alisaunder and Tholomeus
Myd her waren so vertuous
Þat þe ost myd whiche hij mette
Hij brouȝtten hem out of flette.
And for her princes weren yslawe,
Hij gonnen flen and wiþdrawe.
To Ymagu hij turneden pas,
Þere þe kynges standarde was,
And maden alle loude crieyng:
‘Socoure vs, Darrie þe kyng!
Bot þou do vs nou socoure,
Aleide is, Darrie, þine honoure.’
Darrie hereþ criȝeynge—
His spores he gynneþ in horse wrynge,
And tuenty þousande kniȝttes wiþ hym,
Jn herte alle wrooþ and grym.
Darrie wiþ a styf launce rytt:
Brian, baroun of Grece, he hytt
Byneþen þe shelde on þe wombe,
And þorouȝ hym þirleþ so a lombe.
Wiþ Alisaunder neren, Ich swere,
Nouȝth wel fele wiȝttere—
Get nomore of hym to speke.
Hij strengþed hem hym to wreke.
Alle þat Alisaunder hytt
Oiþer he þorouȝ-roof or atwo kytt.
He þorouȝ-þerled euery presse—
Was þere non to his prowesse.
He had hyd, also J fynde,
Asiden on twenty þousynde,
Þat shulden comen on fresshe stede
Hem to socoure at most nede.
Alisaunder and Tholomeus
Mid here weren so vertuous
Þat hij weren passed ostes two,
And to þe þrid comen þoo.
Þere was many banere afeld,
And ybore-þorouȝ peynted sheld!
Þere was kytt many a cod,
And many veyn laten blood!
Þere was þirled many side;
Many stede drouȝ his bride!
Salome seiȝ at þat on half
Hou Alisaunder, as a wolf
Þat fele dawes had yfast
Þe shep todraweþ in þe wast,
So Alisaunder amonge his men
Slouȝ doun-riȝth, by sex and ten.
Wiþ faire ost he comeþ flyng,
Wiþ launce arered to bataillyng.
Þorouȝ-out he smyteþ a baroun
Þat was yhote Diogioun.
Ded he þroweþ hym to grounde—
He was a baroun of grete mounde.
His men doled for her lorde.
Salome quyk draweþ swerde;
Jn litel stounde he slouȝ, jwys,
Ten barouns of mychel prys,
Vche of his men a Gregeys,
Þat weren kniȝttes of grete nobleys.
Nas þere non of hem þat louȝ,
For of sorouȝ þai hadden ynouȝ.
Jn hem com so mychel howe
Þat of felde neiȝ þai flowe.
So hij weren a-cowarded alle
Þat hij ferden so dere in halle,
And floteden so fyre in felde.
Þe folk of Perce so gan abelde,
Ac Tyberye so com acost
On gode stede tofore his ost,
And hitte Salome wiþ his spere
Þat of sadel he gan hym bere,
Ouer þe croupe to þe grounde.
A-swowe he lay a longe stounde;
He nas nouȝth wounded, bot sore yhert.
Þere aroos batayle apert—
Ten hundreþ weren to deþ ydiȝth
Ar he to sadel mounten miȝth.
Ac þoo he was to sadel ybrouȝth,
On boþe half it was wel touȝth.
Not noman on whiche syde
Þe maistrie so shal bityde.
Hors nayȝeng and criȝeing of men
Men miȝtten yheren mylen ten.
Mark þe romayn and Antioche
Her gode steden gonnen broche
Wiþ tuenty þousande of awayt,
And arereden a newe playt.
Men miȝtten sen þere kniȝttes defoile,
Hertes bleden, braynes boille,
Heuedes tumblen, guttes drawe,
Many body ouerþrowe.
Alisaunder wel streit hem holdeþ-
Al his folk ful faire he boldeþ.
Wiþ Antioche and Mark of Rome,
Þat þoo hym to socoure come,
He haueþ so leide on forto slen
Þat alle Perciens gunnen flen.
Darrie þerof was ywar—
So woo ne was hym neuere ar.
He dooþ hym on a stede corroure,
And fleiȝeþ away wiþouten socoure,
Leteþ meigne, wijf, and childe,
And fleeþ als a beeste wilde,
And Alisaunder crieþ onon:
‘Quyk after Darrie, euerychon!’
Men miȝth seen þoo after ride,
Wiþ drawe swerd and lacche bride,
Kyng and duk, kniȝth and baroun.
Arnen þe steden grete raundoun,
Ac Alisaunder vpon Bulciphal
Ridynge passed his poeple al,
After Darrie myd al [hi]s miȝth,
Forto it were wel neiȝ niȝth.
Darry hym hyd vnder a lynde,
Þat Alisaunder ne miȝth hym fynde;
Ne miȝth hym fynde kniȝth ne grome,
For he was hyd in lynde and brome.
Alisaunder so went aȝein;
Quyk him siwed alle his men.
He took Darries moder and wijf,
And his douȝtter, a leue lijf,
And leuedies and damoysele,
So many þat J noot hou fele.
Þere dude Alisaunder curteisie—
He kepte hem from vche vilenye,
Darries moder and Darries wijf,
And his douȝtter, a swete lijf.
Þe oþere lefdyes, after þat hij ware,
To kniȝttes weren deliuered þare,
And damoisels to garsouns
Weren made þere alle commouns.
Coupes, pelles, broches, rynges,
Herneys, armes, oþer þinges,
Alisaunder freli diȝttes
After werþe amonge his kniȝttes.
Þere nas knaue ne quystroun
Þat ne had his warisoun.
He had prisouns, als J fynde,
Gentil-men an hundreþ þousynde.
To diuers castels he hem sent,
Summe to Grece to present,
Summe to Libye, summe to Rome,
And swore þat hij ne shulde out come
Forto he were of Darrye awreke,
Þat men miȝtten þerof speke.

Now gynneþ þe sonne to grounde helde.
Ȝut stondeþ olyfauntz in þe felde;
Vche bare twelue oiþer sextene kniȝth,
Wel arenged snelly to fiȝth—
Of hem weren fourty þousynde.
Þe kyng hem assailed byhynde.
Þere was bataile so stronge
Nas non swiche in þe day longe.
Tholomeu þoo com to socour,
Wiþ tuenty þousande of gret valour,
And Antioche and Tyberye also.
Abouten hij gonnen goo,
Par force smyten in to þe þrenge,
And duden beestes from oþere derenge.
Þus hij comen hem bitwene,
And stikeden fele, al so kene,
And þe kniȝttes of þe castels
Þus hij slouȝen swiþe feles.
Þester it was, ne miȝtten men seen—
Fele ascapeden and gonnen flen.
Alisaunder þerof had sorouȝ;
He most drawe to herberewȝe.
He went quyk to pauillouns,
Wiþ alle his dukes and barouns.
Wiþ tuenty þousande gode kniȝttes
He dude hym warde þat ilk niȝt.

In tyme of Maij þe niȝttyngale
Jn wood makeþ mery gale.
So don þe foules, grete and smale,
Summe on hylles and summe in dale.
Þe day daweþ, þe kyng awakeþ;
He and hise men her armes takeþ.
Hij wendeþ to þe batailes stede,
And fyndeþ nouȝth bot bodies dede.
Ȝonge and elde fele hij fonde—
Kniȝttes dede of Grece londe.
Alle he dude hem brynge on erþe,
After þat hij weren werþe;
For hem was made wel grete doel.
After þat was parted þe spoyle,
Þat vche man was wel ypayed,
Also Ich tofore ȝou saide.
Þennes to Nichomedie he tourneþ,
A stronge cite, and þere soiourneþ.
Darries douȝtter, sister, and wijf
He saueþ so his owen lijf,
Jn mete, in drynk, in cloþing,
And in al oþer þing,
And spyeþ whider Darrie is went.
God vs ȝiue auauncement!

Mery is þe blast of þe styuoure;
Mery is þe touchyng of þe harpoure.
Swete is þe smellyng of þe floure;
Swete it is in maydens boure.
Appel swete bereþ fair coloure;
Of trewe loue is swe[te] amoure.
Darry to Babiloyne is went,
And after socoure haþ ysent.
First to hym comen, saunz faile,
Alle þat flowen from þe bataile.
Fair chyualrie hym com from Mede
Wel y-armed on heiȝe stede,
So hym dude from al Asye—
Com wel faire compaignye.
From Saba and from Pentapolis
Michel poeple hym com, jwys.
From Pamphile and from Lyde
Many kniȝth to hym com ryde.
Out of Jnde, from Prestre John,
Hym com kniȝttes manyon.
So mychel puple com from souþe
Þat noman tellen it ne couþe.
So mychel poeple he had and gynge
Þe erþe quaked in þe berynge.
Of his poeple þe grete praye
Lasted twenty milen waye.
Alle hij þreteneþ, grete and lyte,
Alisaunders heued of to smyte.
To Alisaunder com þe tidyng
Of þe poeple and of þe þretyng.
He sent messagers of nobleye
Jn to Grece, jn to Achaye,
Jn to Egipte, jn to Libye,
Jn to Cesyle, jn to Lumbardye,
Jn to Chaumpayne, jn to Rome,
To alle þat weren vnder his dome.
Quyklich he sent his sondes
To alle þe justises of þe londes
Þat he haueþ vndur sonne
Wiþ dynt of batayle to hym wonne:
Hij shulden senden alle þe kniȝttes
Þat on hors riden miȝtt,
And bowe-men and arblasters,
And alle þat hadden powers
To beren wepen of defense.
Hij shulden hym senden, wiþ her despense,
An hundreþ þousande and fyfty þerto,
Ȝe, and tuenty þousande mo.
Kniȝttes and men of grete vigoure
Comen quyk to his socoure.
Als sone as hij beeþ alle ycome,
Alisaunder þe way haþ ynome
Wiþ al his folk toward Darrye,
For lenger nolde he sparye.
He passed [T]auryn þe heiȝe hille;
Þere stood a spere, so men telle—
Jn þe grounde it stiked fast
Þat neuer more shadewe cast.
Who so drouȝe it of þe molde
Þe werlde to wille wynne he sholde.
Darrie had yben þare,
And many kyng and ek kaysare,
Ac non ne miȝth it vp drawe,
Ne nouȝth it in þe grounde wawe.
Þoo Alisaunder it seiȝ he louȝe,
And atte first vp it drouȝe.
Al his folk forsoþe, jwys,
Þere-of hadden grete blys;
To Tebes ward hij wendeþ whate.
Hij sheteþ aȝeins hym þe gate—
Þe kyng it hete of þat cite,
So ful he was of iniquite.

Tebes was a cite riche;
Non in þe werlde nas it iliche,
Bot it be Rome al one,
Þat pere ne had none.
Tuelue gates þere weren abouten,
Þat assaut non ne douten,
And vche gate of þe toun
Loked erle oiþer baroun,
Þat hadden citees and castels,
And vnder hem kniȝttes feles.
To eueryche of þe tuelue gate
So lay þere an heiȝe strate,
Also noble of riche mounde
As is Chepe þat is in Lounde.
Þat cite was riȝth fyne riche,
And wel ywalled wiþ stronge dyche.
Ethmes hiȝth her kyng—
He was of Edippes ofspryng,
Fel, and proud, and stout also,
And þat hym fel to mychel woo.
He ofsent his baronye
And ek al his bachelrye.
Alle hij consenteden, saun faile,
To Alisaunder ȝiuen bataile.
Wel hij wardeþ þe gates alle,
þe fortresses and þe walle.
Þoo Alisaunder hereþ it telle,
His ost he hoteþ þider snelle.
Quyklich to Tebe toun
Hij wenten and seged it enviroun.
Þere was assaut gret wiþ alle,
For hij þat weren wiþinne þe walle
Wiþ arblast, mangonel, and bowe,
Duden þe oþere woo and howe.
Alisaunder and his barouns
Hadden telt her pauylouns,
And wenten to þassaut sone
Riȝth abouten þe ȝonge none.
Þe gate þat hiȝth Dardanidas
Þat tyme vnloken was.
Of Tebes comen ride þoo
Þre þousande kniȝttes and moo,
Wiȝth of mayn and stronge bones,
Ycoiled alle for þe nones,
Armed alle in gyse of Fraunce,
Wiþ faire pensel and styf launce.
For hem alle on gan crye,
And seide ‘Alisaunder!’ þrie,
‘Whare artou, hores son, whare?
An hore þee to man bare.
Þou auetrolle! þou vile wrecche!
Here þou shalt þine endyng fecche.
Come and ȝiue vs on justyng,
And þou shalt haue hard metyng.’
Alisaunder swore onon-riȝth
By him þat was God almiȝth,
And he myȝth it ywynne,
Noiþer for loue ne for gynne
Nolde he wiþ hem acorde,
Ac alle hij shulden to þe swerde
And al þe cite ben forbarnd.
For[þ] he is wiþ þat y-ȝarnd,
And wiþ his launce meteþ a duk,
And sent his soule to Belsabuk.
Þere was many pensel good
Quyk ybaþed in hote blood;
Many heued a-two yslytt,
Many lyme from body kytt,
And also many gentil cors
Was fouled vnder feet of hors.
Þere laien on grounde moo þan ynowe,
Summe steruande and summe in swowe.
Þere was ycome out of Athene
A ȝonge kniȝth, jolyf and kene.
To Tebes he com, jwys,
Forto wynne loos and prys.
He was þe emperoures sone—
Wel to juste was his wone.
Natha[na]eles son he saiȝ,
A ȝonge kniȝth also of grete disray.
He smyt þe stede and lacheþ þe bride—
Aȝeins hym he gynneþ ride.
A le[un]cel was on his spere—
Wiȝth he gynneþ aȝein hym bere,
Smyt hym þorouȝ armes, lunge, and lyuer.
Þe shafte crakkeþ, al to-shyuer.
Nathanaeles son slawȝen is,
Fast by Alisaunder, jwys.
Þe ȝonge kniȝth his bridel turneþ,
And to þe oþere syde erneþ.
Þoo of Tebes cryeþ in blis;
Alisaunder folk doleþ, jwys,
For þe kniȝth þat was yslawe,
For he was riȝth gode felawe.
Ȝut þe ȝonge kniȝth of Athene
Draweþ his swerd briȝth and shene.
Þre he sleþ of Grece londe,
And to of Trace, Ich vnderstonde.
Þe sexte he slouȝ of Nauarre he was.
Þe seuenþe he slouȝ þat was of Tas.
Alisaunder yseiȝ ful wel
Þat he dude to his folk vche del.
He groop on honde a styf spere,
And Bulcyphal swiþe gan hym bere.
He mett Madan, þe ȝonge kniȝth,
Aȝein þe breest wiþ al his miȝth,
Þat þorouȝ þe herte þe launce flang,
And þorouȝ þe chyne an elnen lang.
Hij of Tebes gunnen graden
And for hym grete doel maden.
(Jt nas no wonder—gret stal he stood;
Amonge hem alle was non so good)
And took þat he had wiȝth
Among hem alle, þre þousande kniȝth,
Þat hem holdeþ alle ylore.
Away hij habbeþ her lorde ybore
To Athenes, wel fer þenne,
And beriȝed hym among his kynne.
Þoo of Tebes fast fouȝtty,
And þoo of Grece as kniȝttes douȝtty,
And of Tebes, in litel stounde,
Þre hundreþ laid[en] to grounde.
Þe Tebans seiȝen hou men hem slouȝen,
And to her gates ward hem drouȝen.
Þe gates hem weren quyk vnshett,
And quyk hij beeþ alle jn stert.
Ac ar þe ȝates weren yloke
Many panne þere was tobroke,
Many vyle cry was grad,
Many brayn þere was yshad.
Naþeles, atte last,
Þe gates weren shet wel fast.
Alisaunder and his folk alle
Fast assaileden her walle,
Wiþ berefrei and wiþ alle gynne,
Ȝif hij miȝtten it ywynne,
And þoo of Tebes hem bistireden,
And her walles wiȝtly wereden.
Wiþ sharp quarels and wiþ flon,
Wiþ hoote water and grete ston,
Wiþ wilde-fyre þat hij casten,
Hij slouȝen many and agasten,
Ac wiþ targes and hurdise
Gregeis hem wereden als þe wise,
And þe kyng hete al his meynee
Quyk assaylen þat cyte
Al aboute, euery man,
And eueryche don þat he can.
Summe shete and summe þrewe—
Þe slauȝtte miȝth vche man rewe,
For hij ne miȝtten heued vp habben
Bot hij lauȝtten dedly dabben.
Vche of hem byment oþere,
Frende felawe, kniȝth his broþere.
Þassautte com so þikk and swiþe
Þat no weryng ne miȝtth hem liþe.
Men miȝtten seen þere hondes wrynge,
Palmes beten, h[er]es tirynge,
Spray, and grade, and dismayeyng,
Wymmen shrikyng, gyrles gradyng.
Þe kyng ne haþ of hem pyte non—
He hete his men euerychon
Ȝiuen assaut niȝth and day,
Wiþ al þat eueryche can and may.
He nolde hem ȝiue restynge,
Ne trewes for no biddynge,
Ne þe proude of þat cite
And ful of vche iniquitee
Raunsoun nolden ȝiuen ne bede.
Þe kyng ful wel seiȝ her pride,
And hete quyk his fote-men alle
Bryngen tymber to þe walle,
And so hij deden, and leiden a-side,
Þat men miȝtten þere-on ride.
By þe queyntise of þe kyng
Was made vp swiche a ridyng,
Maugre þe Tebans euerychon,
Þe gode kniȝth Permenion
Js yride vp to þe walle,
And lepen adoune amonge hem alle
On his stede in alle his armes.
Þe Tebans lepen aboute his harmes,
Hastiflich hym forto slen,
And wiþ shelde he gan hym wren
And wiþ suerd defenden his cors,
Ac vnder hym hij slowȝen his hors.
Vp he lep on fote, syker,
And fonde hem alle propre byker.
He hem to-hiwe by fyue, by sex,
So þe bocher dooþ þe oxe.
Whiles þe poeple of þe toun
Entended to Permenioun,
Þe kyng dude a noble skek—
Þe ȝates par force vp he brek;
Jn to þe cite he com dasshe,
Wiþ al his poeple, more and lasse.
Þe quyke ȝede to þe swerde,
Kniȝth and squyȝer wiþ her lorde;
Fair and foul, man and wijf,
Þere loren her swete lijf.
Tofore þe kyng com on harpoure,
And made a lay of gret sauoure,
Jn whiche he seide, wiþ mery cry:
‘Kyng, on vs haue mercy!
Here-jnne was borne Amphion,
Fader, kyng, of goddes euerychon,
And Liber, þe god of wyne,
And Hercules, of kynne þine—
Here hadden þe goddes her norture.
Þis toun þou shalt, sir kyng, honure—
Aȝeins hem þi wraþþe adaunte,
Ȝiue hem mercy and pes hem graunte.’
Also quyk, al þe contreye
Þat weren of þe kynges feye
Gradden and gunnen þe kyng to preche
Þat he shulde take of hem wreche,
And seiden wel are þat tyme
Al Grece was of hem envenyme.
Hij hym telden hou Edippus
Had yslawe his fader Layus,
And more woo atte last—
Hou he wedded his moder Jocast,
And in hir biȝate twynnes two
(None wers ne miȝtten go:
Þe first was Ethiocles,
Þat oþer was Pollymyces—
Of pride nas non hir yliche);
Hou hij stryueden for þe kyngriche,
Hou for hem weren slayn in fiȝttes
Of Grece alle þe gode kniþttes,
Ypomedon and Tydeus,
Amphiroae and Adrastus,
And þe faire Partonepus,
And þe stronge duk Capaneus.
Of wymmen hij tolden þe iniquite
Jn þat tyme of þat cite.
Þoo þe kyng had þis yherd,
He dude slee dounriȝth wiþ suerd
Man and wijf, childe and hounde,
Vche lyues body jn to grounde,
And wilde-fyre þere-on sette,
Þat brent doune jn to þe flette
Tymber, ston, and þe morter,
And made of Tebes a place cler.
Neuere siþþen þe destroieyng
Nas in Tebes wonyȝing,
Bot as it were a wete lake
Js now Tebes þat man of spake,
Þat was cite of mest werþe,
Of alle þat weren in erþe.
For her synne and dede on-hende
Nou is it brouȝth out of mynde;
Þus ended Tebes cite.
God on vs haue pyte,
And lene vs so to þryue
We moten come to his lyue,
Whan we shullen hennes wende,
And lyuen w[iþ] hym wiþouten ende.

Mery it is in sonnes risynge—
Þe rose openeþ and wile vpspringe.
Wayes faireþ, þe clayes clyngeþ,
Þe medes floureþ, þe foules syngeþ.
Damoysels makeþ mournyng
Whan her leues shullen make partyng.
Þe kyng þan wiþ his ost wendeþ.
To many cite his sonde he sendeþ,
Als he wendeþ by þe waye.
Homage nolde hym non wiþsaye,
Ac alle hij duden hym feute,
And swore hym hoolde-oþe and leute,
And ȝauen hym ȝiftes of grete pryse,
And founden hym kniȝttes to seruise.
Ac þoo he com neiȝ Athene,
Jt was a cite proude and kene.
Of Grece it bare þe maistrie
Of marchaundise and ek clergie.
Alisaunder his lettres sendeþ—
Þe messageres þerwiþ wendeþ.
To Atheneys hij beeþ ytake;
Word for woord þus hij spake:

‘Alisaunder, þe stronge kyng,
To Atheneis sendeþ gretyng!
We weren a-slepe—Darrie vs weiȝtte.
Tol he asked wiþ vnriȝth.
We habbeþ ymade his acorde
Wiþ ston, wiþ launce, and wiþ swerde,
And fiftene kynges of grete pryse
We habbeþ ywonne to oure seruise.
Of barouns, dukes, grete and smale,
Ne cunne we nouȝth of alle þe tale.
To ȝou we habbeþ also ysent.
Ȝee heren oure comaundement:
Sendeþ vs, to gode hans,
On hundreþ þousande besauntz,
(From ȝer to ȝer ne mowen ȝee faile)
And on þousande kniȝttes to bataile.
Wiþ nomore wil Ich ȝou karke,
Ac quyk Ich hote þat ȝee it ȝarke
Þat Ich habbe by a skryt ȝou seide,
Oiþer ȝee shullen ben sore ennoyed.’

Þo þis skryt was red and herd,
Many rededen in þe berd,
And seiden hij wolden wiþ hym fiȝth
Ar hij þoleden swiche vnriȝth,
And maden a skryte of swiche spekyng
Aȝein to Alisaunder þe kyng:

‘To Alisaunder, þe stronge kyng,
Folk of Athenes sendeþ gretyng.
Sir, als þou art gent and curteys,
Lete vs libbe in griþþe and pays.
No kyng ȝut of no parage
Neuer had of vs trowage.
Philipp þi fader asked swiche ȝelde,
Ac we hym dryuen out of þe felde,
And so we han alle oþere kynges
Þat vs askeden swiche þinges.
Ȝif þou wilt haue swiche vnȝeld,
Þou come and ask it in þe feld,
And we shullen don þee of londe skyppe,
And so we deden þi fader Philippe.
He is ded; we ben ful fawe
(Þe soþe to þee we ben aknawe).
So we wolde þat þou ware,
For many man þou hast don kare.
Lete bileuen þine outrage,
Oiþer þou shalt lacche dedly damage.’
Alisaunder haþ herd þis wrytt—
Wood he is neiȝ out of his wytt.
He swore hij shulden sore abygge
Wiþ sharp launce and swerdes egge.
Boþe of þe lewed and of þe lered
He wolde delyuer þis middlerd,
So he of Tebes hadde ydo.
Anoþer lettre he sent hem to,
Of a feloun and bitter tenure—
Hereþ it alle, par amoure:

‘[Ȝ]e proude and stoute of Athene
Habbeþ ydon me herte tene.
Of ȝou Ich wil me so awreke
Þat al þe werlde shal þer-of speke.
Quyk me sendeþ ten barouns,
Þe noblest of ȝoure regiouns.
Quyk Ich wil done hem serue—
Þe tunges out of her heuedes kerue,
And her feet and her hondes also,
For hij me han despised so.
Afterward tofore my siȝth
Vpon a tree hij shullen ben piȝth,
And hongen in þe wynde and reyn.
Her wicked conseil hij shullen abyne.
Now dooþ quyklich myne hest,
Or Ich me wil awreke of most and lest.’

Athenes was ful of riche spicerie,
And of clerkes þat couþen mychel clergie,
Of kniȝth and faire bachelrye,
Of many faire maiden and leuedye—
Of al þe werlde hij baren drewrye.
A clerk gan þe lettre vnplye,
And haþ yseide, wiþ loude crye,
Tofore al þat compaignye.
Jt was riȝth after þe tenure
Þat first spaak þe emperoure.
He was a fair elde hore man—
Tofore hem alle þus he bigan:
‘Lordynges, Alisaunder þe kyng
Haþ on erþe non euenyng.
Hardy is his flesshe and blood;
His ost is mychel, wiȝth, and good.
Boþe in palays and in batayle
He dooþ by Aristotles conseile;
By hym he is so ful of gynne
Þat alle men he may wynne.
He haþ wonne Grece and Lumbardie,
Achaie, Runele, and Romanye,
Genne, Prouince, Burgoyne acoste,
And Sauoie, al to Oste,
Þe marchis of Fraunce and of Spayne,
And Coloyne, and ek Almayne,
And Egipte and ek Barbarye,
And dryuen out of felde Darrye—
Ytaken his children and his wyue.
Jt nys nouȝth myd hym forto stryue.
He ne askeþ vs bot litel tense—
A fewe besauntz to his despense.
Þe peny is of riche mounde
Þat ysaueþ þe hole pounde.
Hij ben worþi to habben care
Þat nylleþ ben by oþere yware.
Tebes, Sydoyne, and Tyre
He haþ destroied wiþ wilde-fyre,
And alle þat he rebel founde
He haþ sleyn to þe grounde.
Þat he askeþ do we hym sende,
And make we hym oure frende.
Better is so, Ich ȝou telle,
Þan he vs take and alle aquelle.
Who so ne wil by oþer hym chaste,
Ouerþrowe he shal in haste.’

After hym spaak Dalmadas—
A riche almacur he was,
Faire man, queynt, and vertuous,
Fel and hardy, and corageous:
‘Emperoure’, he seide, ‘þou spekest to depe!
Jch am so trayed þat neiȝ Ich wepe.
Niltou neuere, late ne skete,
A goshauk maken of a kete,
Ne faukon maken of bosard,
Ne hardy kniȝth make [of] coward.
Ac þou canst make kniȝttes gode
Wiþ þi prechyng cowardes of blode.
For no power ne for no wonder
Ȝut ne weren we neuere vnder.
Philippe his fader we ouercomen—
Tuenty þousande of hise we nomen.
Þe kyng of Perce and oþer ynowe,
We ouercomen her folk and s[lo]we,
And Serses, þe riche kyng of Mede,
Hadde he neuere non swiche felaurede
His oste wriȝed þe cee and þe londe,
Ȝut he crepe vnder ȝoure honde.
His heued he leide þee to wedde,
And many þousande of hise [w]e fedde.
Þat day þou haddest herte of prise,
And now he is ful of cowardise,
Þat woldest ȝiue vile trowage,
And so duden none of þi lynage.
More honoure it is faire to sterue
Þan in seruage vilely serue.
Take we mayne in oure honde,
And dryue we hym out of londe—
We habbe[þ] þerto kniȝttes ynowe.
Oure is þe riȝth, her is þe wowe.’

Þe folkes herte so gan sprynge
Aȝeins Alisaunder þe kynge,
And seiden Dalmadas was a god kniȝt,
And had seide sooþ and riȝth.
Alle hij wolden hem bistere
Her londes riȝth forto were,
And gonne crie at one cry
Alle hij were þerto redy.
Ac Demostenes, a riche amyraile,
Seide hem anoþer conseile:
‘Lordynges’, he seide, ‘for þe emperoure
Ne leseþ nouȝth ȝoure honoure.
And ȝif he haueþ wel yseide,
Ne beeþ nouȝth aȝeins hym enoyede,
Ne dooþ nouȝth by Dalmadas,
So þat ȝee siggen after “allas!”
And for ȝoure pride and ȝoure outrage
Lesen wijf and childe and heritage.
Þe kyng ȝou redeþ þat ȝee acorde,
And maken Alisaunder ȝo[u]re lorde.
Ȝif ȝee willen helden hym wiþ,
Ȝee shullen habbe pes and griþ.
And þou hast wel spoken, Dalmadas.
Whilom we token Margaras,
And Corynce, and ek Perce,
And mo þan Ich wil reherce.
Where ben now also þine kniȝttes?
Hastou þem redy now to fiȝttes?
Jn al þis cite ne shuldestou fynde
Of gode kniȝttes oo þousynde,
And he haþ an hundreþ þousynd and an oþer.
Helde þou þi pays, my gode broþer!
Ȝiueþ ȝee besauntz and makeþ paise,
And þan mowen ȝee libbe at aise.’
Dalmadas hym seide þo:
‘Þou art elde man and neiȝ ydo—
Þi werlde is sone ydon,
Þerfore makestou strengþe non.
Þeiȝ we fare þe lenge þe wers,
Wiltou nouȝth paie of þi purs
Neiþer besaunt ne fierþe peny,
Ac shullen þe pouere vche halpany.’
Grete stryf was bitwene þe elde
And þe ȝonge, þat weren belde.
Naþeles, þe elde men, saun faile,
Wonnen þe maistrie of þe consaile,
And deden it vpon Demostenes
Þat he shulde maken her pes.

Demostenes was a baroun of prys—
Wel norisshed man of resoun, jwys.
He takeþ on honde þis message,
And wiþ hym wel fair baronage,
Wise men, and kene and belde,
And alle neiȝ of his elde.
He passeþ boþe dales and dounes,
Many cites and many tounes,
Forto he com to þat plas
Þere Alisaunder yloged was.
He satt and played at þe ches,
Wiþ a Griffoun of heþenes.
Þre hundreþ tofore hym stode,
Flumbardelynges, kniȝttes gode,
Shred in silk of riche prise,
Redy to þe kynges seruise.
Demostenes is aliȝth,
And comeþ amonges hem al riȝth.
Bot he be ful wel ytauȝtte,
Wiþouten skorne ne passeþ he nouȝth!
Tofore þe kyng on knee he duelleþ,
And gentillich his tale he telleþ:

‘Kyng Alisaunder,’ he seide, ‘of kynges flour,
God þe kepe in þine honoure!
Þe kyng of Athene regiouns
Þe greteþ ofte and his barouns.
Hij hem ȝeldeþ in alle wise
And in al þing to þi seruise.
Þis coroune he þee sent
Of gold and ȝymmes to present,
And þis swerd of steel cler,
And þis launce wiþ þe baner
(Þe baner is wiþ gold ydrawe—
Nys non on erþe wider yknawe),
And a þousande besauntz of golde,
For hij þee faire seruen wolde.
Hendelich biseken hij þee
Þat þou be hor avowe.
Forȝiue hem, sir, þi mautalent!
Hij willeþ don þi comaundement.’

Þe kyng leteþ þe gamen of þe ches,
And lokeþ on Demostenes.
He takeþ þe coroune in honde on hast—
Atwo he it tofrussht al-mast,
And seide: ‘Wene ȝee now of Athene
Ȝou be forȝouen myne tene?
Nay, by myne lay Ich sigge,
Ȝee it shullen wel sore abygge.
Jch wil be wroken, on al wise,
On þem þat duden me despise.
Þe emperour and his barouns
Alle shullen abiggen, by Dans Mahouns.’

‘Sjr’ quoþ Demostenes, ‘þi men þou miȝt spille.
Hij hem ȝeldeþ al to þi wille—
Mercy hij bidden þee, sir fre,
Of þat hij seiden aȝeins þee.
Þe emperour boþe and his barouns
Ȝelden hem to þine baundouns,
Wiþ body and chatel, neiȝ and ferre,
Þee to helpen to þi werre.’
So fair spekeþ Demostenes
Þe kyng haþ graunted his pes,
And sendeþ hem a wryt onon,
Þat þus was red tofore vchon:

‘Alisaunder forleteþ his tene
Aȝeins þe barouns of Athene,
And afongeþ þis coroune
Jn þe name of raunsoune,
And þe suerde and þe banere,
By suffraunce of swiche manere
Þat ȝee make amendement
Of Leonyne, my baroun gent,
Þat ȝee slouȝ in ȝoure alan,
Whan Ich com from Perce aȝan.’

Hym was delyuered, onon-riȝttes,
A þousande besauntz and a þousande kniȝttes
(Dalmadas was her cheuentayn—
An hardy baroun of grete mayn),
And Alisaunder, wiþouten assoigne,
Haþ forþ his ost to Macedoyne.
Lorde, mychel bost was þare!
Many jobet and many ware,
Many turforþ and many jouaunt,
Many asse and mule and olifaunt,
Many stede and many palfray,
Many gentil kniȝth and many vile bey,
Many baroun wel ful of þewe,
Many ledron, many foule shrewe,
Many baner, many pensel,
Many swerd of briȝth stel,
Many destrer in couerture,
Many kniȝth in riche armure,
Many faukun, many spere,
Many goshauk, many laynere,
Many wiþ cry, many wiþ song—
Þe ost was tuelue mylen long.
So hij wenden, by waye and paþe,
To Macedoyne hij comen raþe.
Þere hij weren stoutely lette—
Þe gates weren aȝein hem shett.
Wiþ mangenels, gunnes, and bowe,
Hij duden þe ost mychel howe.
Ten þousende of armed kniȝtt
On wryen stedes weren ydiȝtt
Comen out and houen in þe strete,
Wiþ Alisaunder forto mete.
Þoo Alisaunder it herd telle,
He spaak wiþ tunge als a belle—
He hete quyklich al þe route
Bysette þe cite al aboute,
And so hij deden, also swiþe,
And maden many man vnbliþe,
For gadelynges, ful of iniquite,
Setten fyre aboute þat cite,
And teke þat al þe cuntreye,
Þere-abouten, by fyue mylen waye.
Þe cite had foure hundre turel—
Þe lest was worþ a castel.
Alisaunder hymself comeþ flynge
Alþer-first to þat justynge.
He smoot a duk hote Coronde,
Þat ȝaf hem conseil hym wiþstonde,
Þorouȝ shelde and breny, and þorouȝ þe chyne—
He most nedes his lijf fyne.
Tholomeus smoot Pharan,
Þat he fel ded in þe fan.
Mark of Rome wiþ Morgas mett—
Þe spere þorouȝ þe herte he shett.
Permenio smoot Naburel;
Þorouȝ þe herte carf þe stel.
Philotas mett Laban þe duk
And baþed his spere in his buk.
Clitus smoot Radelyn
Þorouȝ þe þrote and slouȝ Pepyn.
Antigonus smoot Maufeloun
Þat he fel ded ouere his arsoun.
Nichanore smoot Male-aperte
Þorouȝ þe breny and þorouȝ þe herte.
Þe kniȝttes seiȝen of þat cite
Þat hij ne hadden none duree.
Hij dasshten hem jn atte gate,
And hem shetten after hem whate.
Her tayl is kytt of hundreþes fyue
To wedde þat leten her lyue.
Þe oþere in to þe walles steeþ
And þe kynges men wiþ gynnes sleeþ.
Þe cite vpe þe cee stood—
An-hatt is Alisaunders blood.
He hete his folk so a wode wolf
Assailen hem on þe cee half,
And so hij deden, wiþ miȝtty honde.
Þe pouer folk of þe londe
And þe lefdyes, briȝth in boure,
Seiȝen þat hij ne miȝtten dure.
Hij stelen þe kayes vnder þeir ȝate—
Þe kyng þere hij leten jn whate,
And fellen a-knowe in þe strete,
Tofore and vnder his horses fete,
Crieden mercy, þe kyng it herd.
He hete vche man don jn his swerd;
He vnderfenge her fewte.
Alle hij sworen hym leute,
More and lesse, euerychone.
Þe kyng afongeþ her mone,
And wiþouten more tale
Makeþ hem alle his speciale,
And þere he ordeyneþ his wendyng
Toward Darrye þe riche kyng.
Now listneþ, wiþouten gyle,
Hou Darrie dooþ þerwhile.

Whan nutte brouneþ on heselrys,
Þe lefdy is of her lemman chys.
Þe persone wereþ fow and grys—
Ofte he setteþ his loue amys.
Þe ribaude plaieþ at þe dys;
Swiþe selde þe fole is wys.
Darrie in a verger is,
Tofore hym many kniȝth of prys.
Þre hundreþ þousande, als J fynde,
He had of his owen heldynge,
And fourty þousande kniȝttes souders.
Noot Ich no tale of his squyers,
Ne of vavasoures ne of bachilers,
Ne of b[o]wers ne of arblasters.
A-loude among hem euerychone
Darrie makeþ þus his mone:
‘Lordynges,’ he seide, ‘Ich am a-shamed,
And wers anoyed and agramed,
Þat Alisaunder, wiþ miȝtty honde,
Haþ me dryuen out of my londe,
My suster and my moder ytake,
And Floriaundre, my gentil make,
Myne children, and my menage.
Myne harme is gret, more myne ho[n]tage.
Ac þere-of he dooþ so fre,
And faire lokeþ my meyne,
Jn chaumber, at boord, wiþ curteisie,
Wiþouten vche vilenye.
Wonder Ich habbe of his miȝth—
Ne seiȝ Ich neuere so hardy kniȝth,
So queynt, ne so maliciouse,
So stronge on hors, ne so vertuouse.
Juster he is wiþ þe best—
He can his launce þorouȝ-out þrest.
Whom-so he takeþ wiþ swerdes egge
He cleueþ his heued in to þe rygge.
Nas neuere non better kniȝth,
And al his folk is stronge and wiȝth.
Fonde we by conseile speke
How we mowen of hym ben awreke.’

Þoo bispaak Daryadas—
Þe kynges broþer Darrie he was.
‘Sir’, he seide, ‘welcome hom!
Þou hym clepedest an harlot grom—
Now þou seist he is þe best kniȝth
Þat may bere armes in fiȝth.
Þou seist sooþ, sir: and hardy and hard,
And þou art also arewe on ward.
He is þe first in vche bataile:
Þou art bihynde ay in þe tayle.
His justes, his dyntes, his folk anhardeþ—
Þi targeynge þi folk cowardeþ.
He makeþ his waye wiþ sharp launce:
Þou an-arewest þi countenaunce.
He is þe first wiþ swerd þat remeþ—
Þou art þe first wiþ hors þat flemeþ.
Of Grece he haþ ypaied þee rent
Wiþ many dedly wounde and dent.
Ne worþe þee of hym non oþere acorde
Bot manqualme wiþ many spere and swerd.
Awaried be Greces troweage!
Jt haþ vs don dedly damage.’

Anoyed was Salome, and spaak þo:
‘Sir erle, ne seie nomore so!
J seiȝ Darrie narewe in lace
Amonge þe Gregeys in þe place.
Þat he was gode kniȝth he kedde,
For meynlich aboute he redde;
A dozein he slouȝ to on hep.
Ac of þi-self nyme þou kep!
Wiþ dynt of spere þou were yfeld
Of þi destrer in þe feld.
Ne hadden ben oure Tiriens,
Þou haddest gon wiþ Macedonyens.
Ne had Ich þee þere wiþ mayn yholpe,
Ne haddestou neuermore yȝolpe!
Ne shaltou wraþþe þi lorde gent—
Of hym is þine auauncement.
Jt is now tyme þou be stille,
Ne seie hym noþing out of wille.’

Archilaus hym dresseþ and askeþ paise:
‘Leteþ’ he seide ‘al þis noise!
Forsoþe, we witeþ alle wel
Þat Alisaunder is stronge and fel.
More fair it is, saunz faile,
Þat we wende hym to assaile
Ar he come here on vs,
For he is hardy and corageous.
Nyl he lete for no trauaile
Þat he ne wil vs abataile.
Jn þe col[e], in þe daweynge,
Wende we wiþ alle gynge;
Þan we mowen, l[o], God it woot!
R[e]sten oure beestes in þe hote.
Who-so careþ, he haþ wouȝ,
For we haue strengþe and folk ynouȝ.’

Þoo bispaak Joroboans:
‘Here now, Darrie, riche soudans!
Now, sir, quyk and snelle,
Do ringen alle þine belle,
And do þi self þi peyne
Al þi folk to ordeyne.
Þine olifauntz and þine beest
Do alle ordeyne on hast,
And do hem done in þe waye,
Þat hij weren in feld contreye,
For Alisaunder is ypassed Achaye,
And is ycome to Arabye,
And is on þis half þe flum Jordan,
And so me seide a drugeman.
Haue we þe feld ar he,
We shullen hym wynne, hym maugre.’
Quyk was don his conseile—
Ycharged olifauntz and camaile,
Dromedarien, and ek oxen,
Mo þan ȝe connen asken.
Alle weren dryuen arenge—
Ten mylen hij ȝeden alenge.
After comen þe somers,
And þan kniȝttes on her destrers.
Many stede þere proudely lep,
Stillelich and many wep.
Þe reccheles and þe proude songen,
Þe cowardes her hondes wrongen.
Þere þou miȝth ysee bere
Many faire pensel on spere,
Many kniȝth wiþ helme of steel,
Many shelde ygylt ful wel,
Many trappe, many troupere,
Many queyntise and armes clere.
Þe erþe quaked hem alle vnder,
Ne shulde man haue herd þe þonder
For þe noyse and þe tabours,
And þe trumpes and jugelours.
To a water hij beþ ycome,
Þere hij habbeþ herberewe ynome,
For hij habbe[þ] ytaken kep
Þe ryuere is cler and dep.
At þat half stant hem no doute
Of Alisaunder ne al his route.
Þe feldes tofore ben brode and wyde—
Hij fonde to warden þat side
Wiþ cartes and waynes stronge
(Fiftene mylen hij stondeþ alonge).
Pauylouns were alle wiþinne,
Strongelich ytelt, by gynne.
Warde hij setten by vche a syde;
Þere hij willen Alisaunder abide,
And he is comande wel gode spede.
God vs help at al oure nede!

Lordynges, after mete ariseþ pleie.
Þe coward is wel looþ to deie;
Late slowe man keuereþ preie.
His ost lasteþ tuenty mile weie.
Hij passen Cisile contreie
And Mede, and ben in Armeineie.
Hem tofore nys bot deþ,
For his pidaile brenneþ and sleþ
Al þat hij fynden mowe.
Ten myle wayes, Ich wil avowe,
Hij brenten doun-riȝth tofore þe ost,
And also fele þe kyng a-cost.
Hij robbeden tresores and cloþes,
And brenten tounes and þe heþes.
Þe smok was so gret and leyte
Þat Darries ost it dude awayte.
Wiþ hym com many fair stede feraunt,
And many fair destrer curraunt,
And many fatt palfrey aumblaunt,
And many armed olyfaunt,
Many baroun and many sergeaunt,
Many stronge kniȝth and many geaunt.
Hij riden a water so a-coost
Þat hij mowen kenne Darryes ost.
At þe oþere syde akennyng
Hij seiȝen Darries ost þe kyng.
Þe kyng þere telt his pauylouns,
And his dukes and his barouns;
Ne seiȝ man neuere in none contree
Non so noble assemblee.
Þere leued Alisaunder þe kyng,
For to aspye Darries beyng.

On a day þe kyng name kep
Þat þe water was swift and dep.
He bad his sergeauntz hem amonge
Brynge hym his armes, heuy and stronge.
And so hij deden, and he wiþouten oþes
Quyklich dude of his cloþes.
Þe armes he dude on his lyche,
And al his folk had ferliche
What he wolde y-armed do,
And jn to þe water he lep þo.
He swam in þe heuy armes
A mile weie wiþ strengþe of armes,
Ac þeiȝ he were stronge and bolde,
Þe water was wel styf and colde.
Maugre hym, he most synk
A bowe-shote from þe brynk.
Þoo he feled adrenche he shulde,
An heiȝ he sprong, so God it wolde,
And helde hym aboue þat he ne sank,
Tyl þat he com to a bank,
Þat he bileued vnneþe alyue.
To boot his men duden hem blyue:
Als sone as hij to hym comen,
Jn to boot hij hym nomen.
Jn his body was litel onde;
Quyk hij ledden hym to londe.
Þere was grad a gret cryeyng
Þat ded was Alisaunder þe kyng.
Þere gan gon a fisicyan—
Philippe he hete, a queynte man.
He bad hem lete her waylynge—
He wolde, he seide, to lyue hym brynge.
He dude hym bere to pauylouns,
And saued hym wiþ pociouns,
And made hym hole man and fere.
Now þe gest telleþ here
[Of] þis leche Philippoun,
[An]d of a baroun Permenyoun—
Of [h]is onde, of [bi]wreyeyng,
Þat shulde ben seide to þe kyng.
Ac for þe latyn seiþ þere-aȝan,
Ne wil ich [hit s]hewe þ[is] b[o]re[l] man,
For [in] þis book fer J fynde
Of Permenyon and of his kynde,
Þat þorouȝ her noble rest
Þe kynges dedes weren honest.
Þe kyng is hoole, may ride and goo.
Oþere þing now listneþ to:

Kyng Alisaunder, þat loged is,
And his kniȝttes of grete prijs,
Vpon a water yhote Tygres;
At þe oþere half is Darrye, jwys,
Wrooþ and grym and alle hise,
For Alisaunders gret aprise.
Þaspies on boþe sydes gooþ,
Telleþ lesynges and telleþ sooþ
Of Alisaunder and ek of Darrye,
Hou vche hym shal from oþere warye,
Hou þe riche dukes hiȝtten,
And whiche weren þe stronge kniȝtten.
Þorouȝ þabet of her spye,
Often þe ȝonge bachelrye
Ouer Tigre to oþere ferde,
And hem proued wiþ launce and swerd,
And maden many kniȝth and knaue
Jn medes and felde ded bilaue.

On a day, Tholomeus,
Hardy baroun and corageous,
Maark of Rome clepeþ to hym,
And þe sauage Salabym,
And Tyberie, and Antiochus,
And Gaudyn, and Antigonus,
And ten þousande dukes and kniȝttes—
None in þe ost of more miȝttes.
‘Lordynges,’ he seiþ, ‘hereþ now me.
We ben here foule in treie:
Skarselich we eteþ and drynkeþ,
And for our mete nouȝth swynkeþ.
We ben kniȝttes of heiȝe parage,
And ben yshett so foule in cage.
On spye haþ tolde to me
Þat þe admyrail Salome
And þe duk Antonye of Cartage,
And Archelaus, of proude corage,
And þe soudanes broþer,
And many proude gome, on and oþer,
Willeþ wenden in þe morowenyng,
And vpon vs maken a skekkyng.
Our lorde is now in his rest—
Wende we, wiþouten chest,
Ouer þe water Ich woot, ȝonder est,
And hiden vs in þe forest,
And whan hij comeþ sodeynlich
Smyte we on hem manlich.
Wil ȝee don by my conseile?’
‘Ȝe!’ hij seiden alle, saun faile.
Jn gode armes hij gonnen hem shrede,
And lepen vpon gode stede.
Þe pauylouns hij rideþ a-coost—
Þe kyng it noot, ne his ost.
Þe water quyklich hij passe,
At one sholpe, more and lesse.
On londe hij ben ouer þe brynk
(Many of hem it dude of-þynk!)
Quyk hij gynneþ þennes ride,
And hiden hem in a forest-syde.
Now bigynneþ riche gest.
God vs ȝiue in heuene rest!

Horses strengþe and hardynesse
Sheweþ many faire prowesse.
Nis non so fair þing, so Crist me blisse,
As kniȝth y-armed in queyntise,
Bot þe preest in Goddes seruyse.
Sitteþ now stille on al wise,
For here bigynneþ gest arise
Of douȝtty men and gret of prise.
Salome, Archelaus, and Jonas,
Sabym, Besas, and Barsonas,
And Oxeatre, Darries odam,
And tuenty þousande kniȝttes, alle ȝonge men,
Hard warded, saunz doute,
Þat niȝth hadden yfare aboute.
Now hij comen homward,
And ymeten chaunce hard,
For riȝth in þe dayes sprynge
Tholomeus on hem com fleiȝeynge.
‘Traturs!’ he seide, ‘we haue brouȝth
Þe tol ȝee haue in Grece ysouȝth.
Ȝeldeþ ȝou, for ȝee ben dede!’
And wiþ his spores smoot þe stede.
His launces orde he gan hym bede,
And smoot a riche prince of Mede—
Herte and armes and sheldes boord
He cleued a-two wiþ speres oord,
And out of sadel cast hym, saun faile,
Ouere croupe and horses tayle.
Persanes weren y-armed wel
On heiȝe steden, in hard steel.
Hij wiþstoden, wel defendynge,
For hij weren twenty þousynde.
Loude hij gunnen all[e] crye—
Þere risen justes for þe maistrye.
Þere was cleued many shelde,
Kniȝttes yslawe, stedes a-felde,
Cry and noyse and gradyng,
Of stronge kniȝttes hard metyng.
Tybery was an hardy man,
And seeþ a prince, an Affrican,
To men of Grece do mychel woo.
He smoot his stede wiþ spores þoo—
He hytt þat duk on þe breest.
Þorouȝ shelde and breny his spere he þrest,
And þorouȝ his lyuer and his entraile
His sharp spere karf, saun faile.
Þe duk fel of his stede þoo;
His folk made mychel woo.
Þe kyng of Capadoce ysauȝ þis,
And smoot his gode stede, ywys.
Of Grece he smoot a baroun
Þat was yhote Menelaun,
Þorouȝ þe garget and þorouȝ þe gorger—
Þe kniȝth fel ded of his destrer.
Mark of Rome nabode no lenge;
He slouȝ fyue on oo renge.
Antigonus slouȝ Gildardyn,
And Nepan, a stronge Sarsyn;
Antigonus slouȝ þe duk Bardak,
And Maudifas and ek Basak.
Antigonus, þe hardy mareschale,
Slouȝ Landagodon, þe admirale,
And Audmas and Pharan
(Jn Perce neren wiȝtter men).
Gaudyn þat was of Macedeyne
Wiþ his swerd of Calleyne
Slouȝ Byrel and Nazaran,
And many anoþere Affrican.
Ac Tholomeu, tofore hem alle,
Loude on heiȝ he gan hem calle.
Many he cleued in to þe sadel—
He it biwepe þat lay in cradel.
Þoo of Perce so gonne hem werie,
And many of Grece dedly derie.
Naþeles, also J fynde,
Perciens loren seuen þousynde,
And hij of Grece hundreþs þre.
Vnder shelde hij gonne hem wreiȝe;
Vche on oþer so gan to legge
Wiþ mace and wiþ swerdes egge,
Þat it dyned so riȝth
So on nayl dooþ þe ship-wriȝth.
Ac þoo of Grece þe barouns
Fouȝtten so don þe lyouns.
Þoo of Perce alle arawe
Gunnen fleen and hem wiþdrawe;
Þe oþere hem dryuen, verreyment,
To Darries ost wiþ hard dent.
Of þe noyse þat hem askaped
Al þat ost was awhaped,
And gradden: ‘As armes, for Dons Mahouns!
Lo, here of Grece þe barouns!’
From on to oþere þis cry was herd—
Hij armed hem and girde wiþ swerd,
And lopen on stedes wiþ styf baneres,
And wiþ spores smyten her destrers.
Þay of Grece seiȝen þis—
A gret queyntise hij duden, jwys:
Looþ hem þouȝth forto fleen—
Hij undergaynden hem bitwen.
Þre þousande of þoo comen
Þat hij hadden ouercomen,
To waterwardes wiþ swerdes egge;
Þe oþere comen at her rygge.
Þus hij flowen, oþere dryuynde,
Al what hij comen, als J fynde,
Þere hij er waren. Þoo wiþ corage
Hij turneden aȝein her visage,
Ac hij seiȝen come Darries Perciens,
Stronge Turgeys and Arabyens,
Felle Escleirs and ek Mediens,
And Capadoceys, and ek Suliens,
Caldens, Ebreus, and Crettens,
And Partiens and ek Albaniens,
And Jndiens, and Emaniens.
Al þis ysauȝ Tholomewe—
A litel ruet a-loude he blewe.
Gregeys alle stod grete doute,
And Tholomew drowen aboute;
Hij ben byshett þe water biside.
Tholomew lete gon þe bride:
He smyteþ a Percien wiþ þe spere—
Þorouȝ þe herte he gynneþ hym bere.
Also quyk he smyteþ anoþer
(Jch vnderstonde it was his broþer)
Þat he hym cleueþ þe bacyn—
Þe dynt astood at his chyn.
Heiȝe men and her amyes
For hem maden wel grete cryes,
And Tholomew seide ‘So ho, so ho!’
We ben awroke of dogges two.’
Sir Dalma[da]s of Athenes
Clepeþ his felawe, yhote Messenes,
And Mark of Rome, and Antiochoun,
And seiþ to hem, in hardy soun:
‘Lordynges,’ he seide, ‘it is nouȝth to flen—
We ben þe ost and þe water bitwen.
Shame it ware, were we so feynt
Þat we in þe water weren adreynt.
Jt is better we to hem stoure,
Als longe as we mowen endoure.
Siwe me now who so wille—
To Perciens J wil me selle.’
He dassheþ forþ so a douȝtty man,
And smyteþ a duk Arabian,
Þorouȝ shelde, and armes, lyuer, and lunge,
And to þe deþ haþ hym stunge.
Eueryche also of his peres
Haþ anoþere on þat maners.
Þis grete ost hereþ here-of speke,
And hiȝeþ hem to ben awreke.
On þe Gregeys quyk hij dasshen,
And fele of hem to deþ lasshen.
Hij ne mowen þat assaut stonde,
And fleiȝeþ a litel by þe stronde,
And hem þere biradieþ bett,
And gynneþ reme manlich flett.
Þere hij holdeþ hem to-gidre,
So flok of dere in þonder-wedre.
Of Grece a gentyl kniȝth of mounde
Had on hym many wounde,
And a trunchoun in his flaunche:
He gan in to þe water launche.
Vp he com at þe oþere syde—
Tofore Alisaunder he gan ryde,
Riȝth also he was arise
(Of his woundyng he was agrise):
‘O Alisaunder, Philippes stren,
Ȝif þou wilt Tholomeu sen,
Gaudyn, Mark, and Antiochus,
Þe duk Tyberie, and Antigonus,
And þi noble duk Gregeys,
Arme þee quyk, of maneys,
And þine barouns; now heiȝeþ bet,
For al þe werlde hem haþ byshett!
Þou miȝth ysee by my lere
Þat Ich am trewe messagere.’
‘As armes!’ was grad on hast—
Sone y-armed was al þe ost.
Þoo seide Alisaunder, wiþ voice hende:
‘Now shal Ich wite who is my frende!’
Hij hiȝeden hem wel quyklich,
Ac sarrelich and pryuelich.
Þoo þat vpon þe watere fiȝtt
Ȝut nyten hij nouȝth of þis kniȝt
Þat haþ ybrouȝth þe kyng tydyng,
Ne forþe Alisaunders comyng.
Men herden neuere of better fiȝtters
Better stonden ne better hem weres.
None of hem neuere yswoned;
Summe hadden þre, summe four wounde.
Fele weren on fote and fele on hors,
Wiþ meschief and kepten his corps.