University of Virginia Library

Quhan Alexander haid hard of þis tything,
That sic ane present send was to þe king—
Sa fair ane hors, sa mervelus ane destrall,
That all þat saw him haid sa gret meruell,
With tuskis and hornis lyk till ane bull his hed,
Na man mycht handill him bot he was ded—
And wald on na wayis ces quhill he him saw—
He saw neuir thing þat euir he stude of aw.
Sa fell on ane day he passit to þe place
Quhair Busefall þe cursour inclusit was;
Quhan þat he com vnto þe tirlis neir,
The hors keist vp his hed and gaue ane sneir,
And to þe tirlis com fast battrand,
For he traistit sum met was till him cumand.
He was closit in ane gret volt of ane cave,
Quhare he mycht nother lycht nor ȝit are haue,
Bot onlie throw þe tirlis of þe dure;
With schillis gret oure-braudit was þe flure;
He fra þe stane þat he mycht ly on loft,
Thik strinklit with þe gloy he lay dry and soft.
Than Alexander beheld him busillie,
And all þe partis of him culd espy;
The hors haid ay till Alexander ane e,
And Alexander haid gud will him to se.
His keperis was ill payit he com sa neir,
For caus he was sa ramage and sa feir,
For sindrie folk haid tint baith feit and hand,
That throw þe tirlis was with him tigand;
Thairfoir þai counselit him to stand abak,
For dout he gat sum menȝe or sum lak.
Than Alexander persauit þe hors feir,
And traistand þat he suld him nothing deire,
And throw þe tirlis in he put his hand,
Rycht at þe place quhaire þe hors was standand,
And als sa fast he daynit and he snokit,
And all his flesche trimlit for ioy and quokit,
And with his toung he likit all his hand,
Movand his tale be manere as fawnand,
And Alexander, persauand in him love,
Put in his arm ȝit forthir for to proue;
Than Alexander, þat was war and wise,
Gart men gang swyth draw vp þe portculis.
As Alexander enterit within þe dure,
The hors fell doun on kneis on þe flure,
And vp his musell held to kis his hand,
As with ane plesance snokand and lykand—
Mare kynd is none dume beist vpoun þe ground
To mannis flesche as other hors or hound,
For þai will greit to se þair maister de,
And keip his graue efter he erdit be,
For þai will knaw thair maister be his smak,
And in till mirknes knawlege to him mak.
Quha was mare blyth na Alexander was,
Quhilk in his armes þe hors hal[s] can bras,
Gart lous his fetteris, and furth he him led;
All harnes till his corps bring he bade,
And on him lap and to þe palace red.
Bot lord! quhat blythnes þairof King Philip haid:
“Now am I sicker þairof for þow art he
To myne are succeid suld efter me.”
That hors sa meit was for his gouerning—
Him thocht þair suld nane ryde him bot ane king;
With þat he was sa plesand in affere,
And als sa weill and staitlie set his gere,
And sa propir of all his portrature,
Thair was na thing to mend of his figure;
In trotting, runing, and in galoping,
He past all vther in all his gouerning.
Fra Alexander him anis ryddin haid,
Till all his men siclyke gude cheir he maid,
Bot quhan ony vther schupe on him to ryde,
He rampit sa, þair durst na man him byde.

Bot or þe day of iusting cumin was,
Thair com tything þat ane King Nicolas
With ost was cum to Littill Armenie,
It for to conques, baith be land and see,
The quhilk was king of Percie and of Mede,
Off quhilkis þai peopill hartlie with him ȝeide,
And king he was also of Aridans,
And haid his power semblit all at anis.
Thair King Philip aganis him thocht to pas,
Bot Alexander, quhilk sa enamorit was
On Busefall, maid request to þe king
That he wald preve [him] with sum gouerning,
And for to mak him cheif and gouernour,
As for this tyme to preif to win honour.
Off þat King Philip was weill ap[a]yit,
And he him self sa fane wald haue asayit,
And ordinit him ane battell meruelus
Of worthie men and knychttis curagius,
Quhilkis in þis warld desyrit nathing mair
Than to be enterit to battell and werefare,
And bad him tak all thing þat he thocht best,
Baith hors and harnes and gold þat him leste,
And put to him wys counsell of clergie,
Ephistik, Saliges, and Ascrivie,
With Aristotell, þat was his maister deir,
His counsall, and his persoun ay most neir.
Bot Alexander on þis wys counselit was,
That he suld speik first with King Nicolas,
Mak him offeris and exortatioun
To be content, of law and of resoun,
And gif he war fra ressoun turnit all,
He ressoning suld gar farrare fall,
For quha resone forsaikis communlie,
Ressoun foirsaikis þame alluterlie.
Thus Alexander chesit out of his menȝe
Ane certane of þe best horst and maist hardie,
Gart þame turs with him gold to mak his cost,
And passit evin to King Nicolas ost.
King Nicolas, quhilk saw men þus cummand,
Quhat þai suld be he fane wald vnderstand,
Come þame to meit with sic ane lyk menȝe,
And bad his ost hald þame in þair semblie.
King Nicolas, but salutatioun,
Sayis, “Quhat art þow þat cumis on þis fassoun?
For I wald wit now, or þow forder ga,
To my battell quhidder þow be freind or fa.”
Than Alexander answerit rycht sobirlie,
“I am sone to King Philip, certanlie—
Alexander, but dreid, is my rycht name,
Olimpeas my lady mother and dame;
As to þe tother point þat þow said me,
I wat na caus of fede nor inemitie
That suld betuix ws be as hidder-tillis,
Bot as men sayis, mak till ws war þi willis;
Gif I be so, me think þat þow hes wrang,
Sen we but were hes freindis bene sa lang.”
Than spak King Nicolas as man aggrevit—
Oure litill state him maid, as he belevit—
And said, “Quhat wenis þow, freind, quhat man I be?
Hes þow nane vther knawleging of me?”
“Ȝis,” said he, “I knaw rycht weill a thing,
Off Aridanis þat þow art lord and king,
Bot beir þe nocht þe hear for þi vastout,
To do wrang to þi nychtbouris þe about;
Prid þe nocht in þi royall maiestie—
Thow art bot man, ane king suppois þow be,
Na traist nocht in gret nummer of battell,
For realm but ressoun reulit sone will fale.”
King Nicolas haid dispyte and inuy,
Sa ȝoung a prince to speik sa resonably,
With sic ane mesure and a sobernes,
And, as him thocht, nathing abesit was,
And for to do him greif or villanie
It haid bene bot ane point of cowardie,
Sen he with sa few a menȝe com him till,
And, as him thocht, him anterit in his will,
Sayand, “Tell ws quhat caus movit þe
Cum with sa few menȝe to speik with me,
And I sa gret ane emperiour and lord,
And mufis to me sic materis of discord?”
He said, “I am send to þe by my king,
To speir quhairfoir þow makis þis gaddering;
Supois ane mychtie emperiour þow think þe,
In litill space þi micht may lawit be:
Men seis oft hie pridfull men cum law,
And pure and simpill men to lordschip draw.”
Than Nicolas persauit in him weill
That he in worde forbure him neuer a deill,
And nane with him bot thre hunder knychtis haid,
And word for word þis at þe bey him baid;
And sayd he haid nocht sene as of his age
Ane ȝoung man sa ferm in his language,
Bad him go hence and pas his father till,
And þat sone eft he suld wit of his will.
Than Alexander said þat he com vncald,
And hame agane vnbiddin pas he wald,
Baid him pas furth vntill his companie—
He suld agane him visie haistelie.
King Nicolas þan brint as fyre in ter,
And spittit at King Alexander on fer;
Than Alexand[er] gaue him ane defyence,
With all his power and his allyance,
And þair, but mare, þai set day of battell,
Quhair þai suld meit in feild, withoutin fale.
Quha was mare blycht na Alexander þe ȝing?
And tald alhale till his father þe king,
Quhilk semblit all þe lordis of þe cuntre,
Off Grece, of Macedone, and of Armenie,
And chargit þame in haist to cum him till,
That he mycht heir þair counsall and þair will.

The Quene of Grece haid haird þe mater hale
Of Alexander and als of Busefale;
Till þair message rycht worthe cheir sche made,
And to þame send ane notabill embassade,
Thre hund[r]eth hors trappit with harnessing,
With armour sic as ganit for batteling,
Ane hundreth webbis of silk, siluer and gold,
To Alexander, to dele to quhome he wald;
With þat ane crowun, quhilk passit mekill thing,
Off massie gold, with stanis of merueling,
And fyftie mulis with cunȝeit gold alsua,
Till Alexander, his purveyance to ma,
Twelf chariottis closit with helmis and habergion,
With swordis steill, speir, pinsall, and pinnon,
Ane thousand bachelaris with cottarmes [on] bak,
Quhilk mycht for worthines þe ordour of knychthed tak,
Ten thousand ablesteris, weill bodin for were,
That nane wantit ane pint of all his gere.
Ambassad rycht sa com fra Armenie,
Sa did þair fra þe landis of Sclauonie,
And þus to Macedone thair cuming was,
Ane gret ambassad fra King Nicolas,
Askand [tribut] of Grece and Macedone,
Or ellis he suld cum visie þame anone.
Than haid ȝoung Alexander ane fare menȝe
Of ȝoung princis wald fane at battall be.
Of þis tything Phylip brint as fyre,
Bot Alexander movit him nothing till yre.
Than King Philip semblit his counsall sone,
Quhat of þis thing was best for [to] be done;
Thus said Alexander: “Father, I ȝow require
That to King Nicolas may I mak answeir.”
King Philip said, “Fare sone, me lykis weill
That ȝe ansueir, for ȝe wat all my feill.”
Ȝoung Alexander, of þis wise weill apayit,
Gart call þe messingeris, and þus he to þame said:
“Freindis, sayis to ȝour lord on þis maneir
Langand his tribut þat he askis ws heir:
I sall it bring myne awin persone him till,
Sa for to bid me þat, gif it be his will,
Wpoun a speir-point, scharpe and wele scharand,
I sall þe tribute bring into my hand,
And quhilk of ws be maister of vther ma,
Thay sall þe tribut tak and bere awa;
He wat þe day is sett to him and me—
With Goddis grace þat day I sall him se.”
Rewardis to þe messinger[is] he gaue,
And gart convoy þame hameward sound and saue—
Than was nocht ellis bot quha mycht best purvay
To graith baith hors and harnes for þe day.

The King Philip sa blyth was of þat thing,
That Alexander haid maide sic answering,
And alsua of þe nobill chavelrie
Quhilk cuming was of Grece sa honorablie,
He gart prouide ane thousand knychtis to mak,
For honour of ȝoung Alexanderis saik,
Quhilk þan of eild passit nocht auchtene ȝeir;
Bot he was wyse, baith stout, hardie, and feir,
Sober, with þat weill temperit in prudence
Off hie knawleg in virtue and science.
The feist was sset, the bathis ordant alsua,
With all prouisioun knychtis for to ma;
Than Alexander of all his chavelrie
Gart wryt þe names of all þe mast worthie,
That he mycht haue into perfyt knawlege
To thank ilkane efter þair vassalege,
And do þame honour efter þair desert;
Quha drew abak and quha drew forderwart,
Quha war maist fant and quha best hartis hes,
It suld apeir best into battell place,
For lordis ar oft desauit of þair menȝe,
Wenand for þat þai meik in chalmer be,
That þai suld rycht sua best-lyk be in feild;
Quhan þai inarmit ar, and couerit vnder scheild,
Than sall men knaw quha worth is till honour,
Quhan þai ar sted in battall and [in] stour,
For bostouris, tulȝeouris, of feris wanting maist,
Ar communlie in battell place hindmaist.
Bot lord! quhat þat was ane royall warldlie sycht,
To se new maid sa mony royall knycht!
Than Alexander depairtit halilie
Till his knychtis clething and ieualrie,
The armit hors with all þair proud trapouris,
And silkin clething till his vauassouris,
And all þat cunȝeit gold be þe leist mule,
Amangis [his] men he delt with litill dule.
Mair plesand prince, na blyth, mycht no man se,
Quhan he sa lykand saw his companie,
With sic ane blythnes and a bald curage,
And be þe maist pairt all of his awin age,
For it was said, quhan his mother was lycht,
Ane thousand ladyis was lychter on þat nycht,
Sum on þat day, and som vpoun þe morn,
The samyne day þat Alexander was born,
That was to say, of Grece and Armenie,
And als in Macedone and in Sclauonie,
The quhilk, becaus þai war of his awin eild,
Thay faworit þe mare to pas with him in feild;
Mony lovit him weill becaus þai fallois ware
In Athenes, at studie and at lare,
And of all þir, þair was nane bot þai ware
Lordis þame self, or ellis þair fader are;
And þis thay said all was throw desteny,
That all þe goddis haid ordant sa to be.
Quhan Alexander baith gold and clething delt,
Till his awin corps small clething he helt,
Bot anerlie his hors and his arming,
With all statis þat ferit for ane king,
And be þe purest in his company
He armit and rewardit rychelie,
That throw þe nobilnes of his fre curage
He wan þe hartis sua of his barnage;
He held rycht nocht, bot all to þame he gaue,
That þame hed levir de na him to leaue—
He was sa sweit and blyth to his menȝe
That euirie man haid ioy on him to se.

Quhan Alexander haid ordand his battell attyre,
And all was payit of wage and of hyre,
Than sett he for to mak his ordinance
Off officieris to keip his obseruance,
And in þe first, twelf duzeperis he made,
Of þe hiest lordis and of þe gretest haid,
At quhilk lordis he wald his counsell tak,
And all his ordinance be þame mak;
Syne maid he his luftennend-generall,
That is to say, þe duke of his battall:
The duke of battall suld þe vangarde haue,
The leftennend suld gouern all þe laue,
And with þe counsall of þe duzepeiris
Suld set all offeiciaris as to þame affeiris;
The king in nothing occupeit suld be,
Bot in gret caus of all noueltie.
Off marascalis þai ordand alwayis tua,
On euirie syde þe battell ane of tha,
With ilk ane, ane gret battall and a sure,
The quhilkis ar callit wingis in preparature;
The admirall, and maister of ablestre,
Befoir þe duk in battall suld þai be,
With armit cartis, crapald, and colubringis—
Befoir þe battell suld be set all sic thingis;
And als tua cheif discuriouris maid he,
To ryde about, all parrell for to se;
In reirgarde a battall stark he made,
Of þe eldest and maist traist men he hade,
That gif þe wingis þat war to confuge,
At þe reirgard þai suld ay get refuge;
And in þe gret battall ordand he
The king and all þe duzepeiris for to be:
Thair was þe lordis of Grece and Sclauonie,
Off Macedone, Alier, and A[r]menie;
That battell was als stark as ony tour,
That for ane neid all suld to it retour;
He ordant [in] þat gret middill ward to be
In his cott-armour tua lordis or thre,
and quhan þai wenit till haue him þair, but dout,
He was in battall formost in þe rout.
It was gret ioy to se þair proud penonis,
Thair baneris, standartis, and þair gunphionis,
Glitterand of gold, asure, purpir, and sabill,
Quhilk to behald was passand delectabill,
Quhan þat þe sone into þe Maii mornin[g]
Glitterand reskewit from þe brych arming,
And syne þe trumpettis, schawmis, and menstrallie
Maid sic ane reird it was gret melodie,
The hors pransand, þe men of music sang,
And on þe buskis þe birdis sang amang,
That quhan þai passit throw Macedon vale,
The sound redoundit fra þe hevin, thocht me.

Than Aristotill to counsall and avise
Was callit, with þame to schape þair interprise;
The douzepeiris and all þe gret counsall
And all þe princis war þair assemblit hale,
And callit haraldis, and bad discryve þe some,
Arrayit þe ost and delt ilk prince his roum,
And set þe wardis and watchis as it suld stand,
Send foirrydaris and furiouris oure all þe land,
With discouerouris and fugeand fleand stalis,
To bring tythingis agane to pair battalis.
And as þe king was þus in rout rydand,
Thair com ane fair ȝoung man rycht fast gangand,
Fair as ane maidin rycht of fax and face,
Bot all his clething revin and raggit was,
Bare leg he was, ane schort staf in his hand,
And efter þe ȝoung king he was sperand.
Thay gart him trow þat Tholome was king,
Quhilk callit him, and speirit of his tything;
He lukit till his hors, baith hie and law,
Said, “Þis is nocht þe king, weill I knaw—
He rydis ane hors þat is of mak meruell,
The quhilk to name is callit Busefall;
I hard of him spekand King Nicolas,
And tald of all þe fassoun þat he was”;
With þat amang þe lordis he beheld,
And Tholome þan to þe king he teld.
Than speirit þe king quhan com þe bachelare;
He said, “Fra Pers I com, of presoun seir.
My father quhilum was King Omere;
I am deshereist throw my vnkill deir—
Dare, King of Pers, my mother brother is;
He hes me haldin sevin ȝeiris in fetteris,
And thocht in prisoun for to gar me de;
The geoler of prisoun helpit me
And becaus I haue hard of þi renoun,
Alsa fast as I was fred of presoun,
I cessit neuir quhill I þi battall gat;
Thay say þow helpis all pure and desolat,
And all hereit þow helpis to restoir—
Gret God of Hevin mot þe reward þairfoir.”
With þat vpoun his kneis he satt adoun,
Sayand, “Lord, sen my father bare a croun,
And kingis state hes haldin in his dayis—
And wranguslie dishereist, as men sayis,
Be myne awn ame, King Dare, my mother broþer,
The quhilk till sone haid me and neuir vther—
That þow wald of þi lordschippe and þi grace
Help to restore me, wrangit, fatherles.”
The king was mouit to pietie hartfullie
Quhan þat he saw þe child sa pitiuslie
Mak his complent, and nathing causles;
The teiris com doun twinkland oure his [face],
Throw his rent weid men saw his fair lykame.
Than said þe king, “Fair sone, quhat is þi name?”
“Sawsone,” said he, “fair schir, my name is cald;
My freindis sayis I am auchtene ȝeir ald.”
“Auchtene,” said he; “men sayis þat is my date;
Thow art rycht welcum to me, fair sone, Go[d] wat—
Thow art ane kingis air, and I ane vther;
I sall do to þe as þow war my brother.”
The king lychtit, and [c]ald his chalmerlane,
Gart get him clething till his bodie gane,
Syne gart enarme him for haid of vantage,
Fyve hunder pairis, tursit by careage,
Gart bring his hors, and hensmen four or fyve—
Ane fairar ȝoung lord was þair nane on lyve.
The king gart gif him gold in haboundance,
And gaue him certane men in gouernance,
Betaucht him for to teche to Tholome,
For he was wysar of þe were þen he.
Than said þe king, “Me thocht I hard ȝow say
King Nicolas ȝe saw þis hinder day”;
Samsone answarit, and said, “Lord, suth is sua,
And rycht gret wowis of þe I hard him ma,
Sayand, bot gif King Philip gaif him trew,
As vther dois of Macedone and Grew,
Se þat he fand him nocht in þat cuntre;
And þair-with-all I hard him say of þe
That þow was bot ane ȝoung folt and a page,
And of þe weris as ȝit haid no knawlage—
He wald þe haue to chastie þe and blame,
And send þe to Olimpeas þi dame,
To strukin þe ȝit ane quhile fra þe were;
Thow art oure tender ȝit arming to bere,
And traistis nocht þow will cum to þi day,
Na fecht wih him with power þow na may.”

Than said þe king, “Samsone, I will ȝe may
My messinger, and till him sall ȝe ga
On my behalf, and till him sall þow say
That I am cumand heir to hald my day;
I am send fra my father, Philip king,
Tribut of Grece and Macedone to bring,
And gif him thinkis þe tribute he will haue,
Bid him cum furth him self it till resaue,
For till nane vther bot till his awin persone
I will it pay, befoir men of resoun;
And se þow bring me anser or þow stint,
And say, on him me list nocht steill no dint,
‘Bot or þow pas, þow sall me mak homage,
To hald of me all hale þine heretage—
I sall it win with grace of God of mycht’”;
And with þat worde, furth-with he made him knycht.
Than Tholome said, “Lord, I vnderstand,
And he war peciabill lord of all his land,
Of gude men he mycht rais in his cuntre
Ten thousand fechtaris out of a citie,
And of his realm, and he haid peciabill,
Ane hundreth thousand worthie men and habill;
I knaw his land, for it is callit Dalie,
Besouth half Pers, betuix it and þe see.”
Than said þe king, “Lordingis, mak gud cheir:
God is oure freind, þat sendis ws sic ane feir.”
With [that], Samsone passit furth his way,
Till King Nicolas his message for to say,
And till him tald his tale in gude maner;
He haid gud language, and ane gude scholare,
And vnabasit comptit him all his tale—
Fra end to end, þe text he tald him hale.
With þat þe king smirkit ane litill wee,
[C]ald his lordis, and bad þame all draw ne,
And bad him say furth agane his message,
Quhow Alexander was bringand him trewage;
With þat he begouth to ramp as ane lioun,
And maid þairat bot ane derisioun.
Than said Samsone, “Schir king, I ȝow declair
That sic ane tribut resa[u]it ȝe neuir mair:
He bad me say, and do ȝow weill to knaw,
Ane hundreth thousand scheildis he sall ȝow schaw,
Of all his land þe choise of thesaurie—
Was neuer sic cunȝeit in ȝour company;
He sall þame schaw in ane feild ȝow beforn,
But mare delay, þe thrid day fra to-morn,
And bad me say ȝow, gif ȝour willis ware,
That corps for corps he wald ȝow meit, but mare,
On hors inarmit with both spere and scheild,
Befor þe battallis baith, in mid þe feild,
To saif þe blude of man þat did na mis,
That of oure querell no thing culpabill is.”
Thus Aristotill counsalit þat he suld do,
To draw þe hartis of his men him to,
For he wist weill and knew be destanie
That he suld neuir in feild disconfist be,
And als his hors, quhilk faucht as a lioun,
Baith hors and man with his teth wald ryfe doun.
Than anserit Nicolas in þis maner:
“Go furt and schaw þi maister, meissinger,
That quhow-euer him list, in quhat maner and plyte,
He salbe seruit at his awin appetyte.

“Bot messinger, and thing þow wald me tell—
Quhow lang has þow with Alexander done duell?
For as me think, þow art of tender age,
And mekill fro þame differis in language,
Quharefoir I pray þe tell me suthfaslie
Quhare þow was born, and of quhat senȝeorie,
For as me think, it schawis in þi visag
That þow art cumin of sum nobill parage.”
“Certis,” said he, “þe suth I bid nocht lane:
I am King Omeris sone of Pers, certane;
My mother als is sister to King Dare—
He hes me haldin in prisone sevin ȝeir þair,
And for my father wald nocht pay him trewage,
He slew my father and haldis my heretage:
I suld be king be rycht of all Dalyis,
Quhilk sidlangis Pers, endlang þe Grek Se lyis.”
Than in his armes him brassit King Nicolas:
“Thow art myne awin cousing, be Goddis grace,
It war more resoun þat þow duelt with me;
I sall mak pece betuix þine ame and þe,
And now furth-with ane erle I sall þe mak,
Sa þat þow will ȝoung Alexander forsaik,
And cum to me and be of my duelling,
Quhill I accord þe with þine ame þe king.”
The child anserit, said, “Lord, quhow may þis be?
To be ane tratour wald ȝe counsell me?
For haid ȝe sene in sic a simpill aray
Off presoun fra myne eame I brak away,
And quhow King Alexander now þus hes me dycht
In stait of prince, and hes me dubbit knycht—
I haid levir thole dede ane hunder sys
Na consent till his damnage or dispris;
And of ane thing ȝit I meruell me,
Quhow Dare myne eame, throw ȝow myne eame suld be—
He louit ȝow neuir, bot held ȝow ay in were;
Thairfoir I traist þis is bot fenȝeit fere,
Me till vndo, ane trature for to be,
For ill of him, mare þan for gude of me.”
Thus Samsone tuk his leve, and hame agane
Vnto þe osting com with all his mane.
Sa it befell þat with King Nicolas
Thare was duelland a knycht quhilk cousing was
To King Omere, quhilk [king] was [of] Dalis,
And quhan he saw þe kingis sone Sams[on]is,
His memberis trimllit and his harte vprais,
And at King Nicolas his leif he tais,
Sayand, “Fare schir, for God displeis ȝow nocht:
I haue ȝone child in mony cuntre socht;
I haue bene with his freindis holdin deir—
His father held me of his kin rycht neir.
Haif me excusit, I mon gang quhair he gais—
I loif my God þat to me send him hes.”
With that he buskit him rycht suddantlie,
And passit with Samsone to his company,
And to þe oist þai com in þe morning,
And all þir tythingis comptit to þe king.
The king gart call þe knycht in his presence,
And gaue him giftis; and made him reuerence,
And tald to þe king all haill þe case
Betuix ȝoung Samsone and King Nicolas.
The king, quhilk hard þe gentrice of þe childe,
He lichtit doun in midwart of þe feild,
Gart call þe douzepeiris, and gart [tell] þame þe trane,
That Nicolas haid sent þe child agane,
And quhow þe child haid anserit vterlie,
And done his message weill and hardelie,
And quhow þat knycht quhilk þair befoir þame spak,
And for quhat caus, haid tane his leve but lak,
And quhow Nicoll haid gevin in his lyking
With all power to fecht, or king for king,
And quha with force mycht vther winand haue,
He suld be lord of land and all þe laue.

The ost begane to move, þe baneris rais;
Into þe ost sic ioy and blythnes was
Quhan trumpettis and menstrallis began to blaw,
And quhan Alexander his ost all semblit saw,
Thay war numberit [thre hundreth] thousand habill,
Off worthie men and fec[h]teris defencibill.
To þe Greikis þe vangaird grantit hee,
Of quhilkis vangard he ordant chiftanis thre:
The first battall gouernit Emenedus,
The tother Perdicas, þe thrid Crassus;
In euirie wing he ordant chiftanis tua—
Gif ony case hapnit till ane of tha,
The tothir suld be reddie to supplie,
Sa for the dede of ane, na falt suld be;
And in þa wingis ordand men of price,
The folk of Sclauony and Dalarise—
Of Dalerise his awin surname he bare,
And Sclauonie war traist men till him þair;
Antigonus eik and Leonides,
Antyochus, with þe erle Arestes,
Thir war þe chiftanis of þe wingis tua,
And ilk ane was ten thousand men and ma;
And in þe vangard als threttie thousand was,
To gouern þame thre chiftanis haid, na les,
And euerie wing efter þame cumand
Ane battall, quhair þair was [twentie] thousand
Of sturdie men on armit hors to ryde,
Was ordand to hald folk on ather syde,
For to supple þe wingis at a neid,
And gif þe vangard hapnit weill to speid,
Reconfort þame, and sidlingis with þame ga,
That þai war nocht ouirset with power ma,
And gif þame hapnit in feild to win þe flour,
Lat þame allane with þair conquest honour;
To gouern þai tua battallis ordand was
Dawclet, Cawlon, Philota, and Darides.
And syne into þe reirgard ordand he
To put þe worthie men of Armenie,
With lordis of age, and worthie men and wise,
That of befoir haid winning los and pryse;
In þat reirgard he ordand battellis thre,
And threttie thousand in ilk ane suld be—
That ordand he for pillar at his bak,
Quhan men war sarit, þair confort þair suld tak.
And principallie þairof was Tholome,
With him Festimus, Dautus, and Crisse,
With þame Licanore, Crebrus, and Clissoun,
With nobill Arides and ȝoung Samsone;
Swa euirie chiftane at his gouerning
Ten thousand men suld haue at his leding.
Into midward ordanit was þe king,
Ane hundreth thousand in his gouerning,
Sum pairt of Grece, bot mest of Macedone,
For maist of his traisting was þam vpoun.
The douzepeiris helilie with him was,
And all þe ȝoung princis, bayth mair and les,
That þai mycht on athir sydis se
Quha was maist habill, and worthie till haue gre;
Dartage was ane worthie antrus knycht,
And euir was prouit hardie, wys, and wycht—
The king him gaif his baner for to beir,
For he haid euir bene wise and war in wair.

All thus þe ost past furth in gude aray,
And to þair goddis orationis þai pray,
To grant gud fortune to þair company,
And to send þame þe flour of victorie.
And quhan þai haid movit a litill iornay,
Sa enterit þai in ane mychtie cuntrey,
And in ane vale rycht be ane reuer syde,
Thair for to lig þai gart þe oist abyde,
And send þair furiouris on ather parte,
And þair discouerouris in euerilk arte,
And plantit doun þair tentis and palȝonis,
Syne plantis standartis, pansallis, and penonis,
And ordand wache and warde and gouernance
Efter þair reulis and þair ordinance;
Syne ordand gydaris and keiparis on þe way,
That merchandice mycht cum to þame nycht and day.
The riuer quhair þai lay was callit Baser,
And þair besyde, ane gret citie war nere;
Thay gart cry, vnder lyf and foirfatour,
“Tha[t] nane suld greif mercheand nor laberour,
Na man of kirk, na barne, na woman-kynd,
Na ȝit no man bot þai wapnis with þame find,
In pane of dede þat nane suld bett nor boist
Na strubill man repairand to þe ost,
Bot gif þai bare wapnis or armour,
Letteris, or poisoun to do ws displesure.”
Syne send þai furth þair spyis preuelie,
Quhaire King Nicolas in osting couth ly,
To speir the nummer of þair cheueleris,
Thair gouernance, and quhow lugit þai weris,
And quhow þair osting with day-waching þei keip,
And quhidder in nycht þai wache, warde, or sleip,
And quhat of Alexander þai speik and say;
The spyis com till him baith nycht and day.
Quhan he hard tell þat Alexander was neir,
He mouit him nocht, nor maid him nocht to steir,
Bot lewch and playit, with mekill hid hething,
Sayand, “He cummis þe trewage ws to bring;
He sall be met with mekill reuerence—
We sall do wirschip till his excellence!
Him war weill better play him ȝit in Grece
Na of his fatheris men tyne ane fleis;
Gud war to him he war in Macedone,
Playand with sparhalk, falcon, and marlȝeoun;
Ȝoung wantoun men wenis it is bot play
Quhill þai haue prefit, and anis bene at þe say;
With Goddis grace, all mak þai neuer sa moy,
We sall þame hame agane in Grece conuoy.”
Quhan Alexander haid hard þair small hething,
He hard þame, and made litill answering,
Sayand, “It may weill happin as þai say,
Nocht as þai wene, bot all ane vther way.”

The nycht ourpassit, þe morning woxe cleir,
The bemes blew, þe ost begouth to steir;
Thair mycht men se mony ane proud blasone,
In cott of armes, in baner and pennone;
The armit knychtis, with helmis and basnet,
Thair creistis and þair timbralis vp þai set,
With trapit hors, and bellis in þair talis,
With ostrage fetheris, buschus, and with salis;
Chariottis avant, and pawilionis plukit doun,
Befoir was lyk ane citie or ane toun.
The trumpis blew, the ost maid a reird,
Lyk till ane thounder, or erding quhan it steird;
The princis and þe douzepeirs drew þame n[ei]r,
Towart þe king, quhan þai þe ost saw steir,
The chiftanis ilkane to þair battell went—
Thay thocht to mak no resedence nor stent
Quhill þai com to þe ost of King Nicolas,
Quhilk neir by half ane io[r]nay fra þame was.
And as þai past endlangis be ane valee,
Towart þe king com prikand Tholome,
Sayand, “Fair schir, be blyth, and mak gud cheir—
Ȝour small freindis ar at ȝow cummand neir;
Aray ȝour battell, gar ilkane keip his warde,
And sembill ȝour douzepeiris in ȝour middillwarde;
Gar set ȝour fut-men in ȝour first battall—
Thare sall þame let with hors-men to assale:
Ȝour men of schot so magill sall þair hors
That magre þame, bakwart þai sall on force;
Syne armit cartis, crauppaldis, and culverinis,
Ȝour serpentinis, small gunnis, and ingynis,
Sum efterwart sidlingis at þair bak salbe,
With armit hors ane certane quantitie,
Thame to reskew, and follow on þe chase,
And þus may stonis þame sa weill, percase,
That ȝour vangard may gif þame eneuch ado,
With ȝour wingis for to be helpand to,
With help of futmen and artalȝerie.
Thus may ȝour hinder battall idill be,
And better is þai brek nocht þair aray—
Thay ar anewe to fecht as for ane day,
And gif it hapnis þat þai bakit be,
The laif is ay reddy þame to supplie.”
The king was weill appayit of his saw,
And euirie man bad till his battall draw;
Than mycht men se quhow þat þir cowartis quakis,
And hardie hartis blythlie to battell makis.
The king bad, “Vant my baner in þe feild!”
He tuke his speir, and cuplit on his scheild;
It was gret ioy till ony gudlie harte
To se quhow Busefall steirit þair his pairt.
The king was ordand in þe middill warde to be,
Bot euir þe formost in þe feild was he,
Quhyle in, quhyle oute, as him list heir and þair,
To se þat all thing dewlie gouernit ware.