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Hende in halle and ye wole her Off eldres that before us wer That lyfede in are thede. Jhesu Cryst, hevene kynge, Geve hem alle hys blessyng And hevene unto oure mede. I wold yow telle off a knyght That was bothe hardy and wyght And doughty man of dede. Hys name was callyd Sere Ysumbras; So doughty a knyght as he was There levyd non in lede. He was mekil man and long With armes grete and body strong And fair was to se. He was long man and heygh, The fayreste that evere man seygh; A gret lord was he. Menstralles he lovyd wel in halle And gaf hem ryche robes withalle, Bothe golde and fe. Off curteysye he was kyng And of his mete never nothyng In worlde was non so free. A fayr lady hadde hee As any man myghte see, With tungge as I yow nevene. Bytwen hem they hadde chyldren thre, The fayreste that myghte on lyve be Undyr God off hevene. Swyche pryde in his herte was brought, On Jhesu Cryst thoghte he nought Ne on His names sevene. So longe he levede in that pryde That Jhesu wolde no lenger abyde; To hym he sente a stevenne. So hit byfell upon a day The knyghte wente hym to play, His foreste for to se. As he wente by a derne sty, He herde a fowle synge hym by Hye upon a tre. He seyde, "Welcome Syr Isumbras, Thow haste forgete what thou was For pryde of golde and fee. The kynge of hevenn the gretheth so: In yowthe or elde thou schall be wo, Chese whedur hyt shall be." With carefull herte and sykynge sore He fell upon his knees thore, His hondes up he helde. "Worldes welthe I woll forsake, To Jhesu Criste I wyll me take, To Hym my sowle I yelde. In yowthe I may ryde and go, In elde I may noght do so, My lymes wyll wex unwelde. Lorde, yf it Thy wyll be, In yowthe sende me poverté And welthe in myne elde." Away that fowle toke hys flyghte Alone he lette that drurye knyghte, Full sone he wente his wey; And whenne he that fowle had lore, His steede that was so lyghte byfore, Dede under hym ley. His hawkes and his howndes bothe Ronne to wode as they were wrothe And eche on taketh here weye. What wonder was thowgh hym were wo? On fote byhoveth hym to go, To peyne turned his pleye. And as he by the wode wente A lytyll knave was to hym sente, Come rennynge hym ageyne. Worse tydynges he hym tolde, "Syr, brent be thy byggynges bolde, Thy menne be manye sleyne. Ther is noght lefte on lyve But thy children and thy wyfe, Withouten any delayne." He seyde, "If they on lyve be, My wyfe and my children thre, Yet were I never so fayne." Forth he wente hymself alone; His herdemen he mette eche one, He seyde, "What eyleth yowe?" "Owre fees ben fro us revedde, There is nothynge ylevedde, Nowghte on stede to thy plowe." The wepte and gaf hem yll, The knyghte badde they schold be styll: "I wyte nowght yow this wo, For God bothe geveth and taketh And at His wyll ryches maketh And pore men also." A dolfull syghte thenne ganne he se, His wyfe and his chylderen thre Owte of the fyre were fledde. As naked as they were borne There they stode hym byforne, Were browghte out of here bedde. Yette chaunged no thyng his ble Tyll he sawe his wyfe and children thre That erste were comely cladde. The lady badde her children be blythe; "For yette I se your fader on lyve, For nothynge be ye dradde." They wepte and gafe hem ylle, Her fader badde they sholde be stylle And wepe nowghte so sore; "All the sorow that we ben inne, Hit is for owre wykked synne; Worthy we be well more. And we full evell kan wyrke, Owre frendes of us wyll yrke, Of londe I rede we fare. Of myselfe have I no thowghte But that I may geve my menn noghte, For hem is all my kare." He toke his mantell of ryche pall And over his wyfe he lette hit fall With a drewrye mode. His ryche sirkote then toke he To his pore chyldren thre That naked byfore hym stode; "Do ye shull after my rede, To seke God wher He was quykke and dede That for us shedde His blode. For Jhesu Criste that is so fre Hym to seche wher it be, He sende us our lyves fode." With his knyfe he share A crosse on hys sholder bare In storye as clerkes seye. They that wer here frendes byfore, They wepte and syked sore, Her songe was "wellawaye." The knyghte and the lady hende Toke here leve at her frende, And forth they wente her waye. For hem wepte both olde and yynge For that doolfull partynge, Forsothe as I you seye. For they bare with hem nothynge That longed to here spendynge, Nother golde nor fee, But for to begge here mete Where they myghte ony gete, For love of seynt charyté. Thorow two kynges londes they gan pas As Cristes owenn wyll was, They and here children thre. Suche sorwe as they wer inne That wer wonte for to wynne, Grette dole hit was to se. Sex deyes were come and gone, Mete ne drynke hadde they none For honger they wepte sore, They kome by a water kene, Ther over they wolde fayn have bene. Thenne was her kare the more. His eldeste sone he toke there And over the water he hym bere And sette hym by a brome. He seyde, "Leve sone, sytte her styll Whyle I fette thy broder the tyll And pley the with a blome." The knyghte was both good and hende And over the water he ganne wende; His othur sone he nome. He bare hym over the water wylde; A lyon took his othir chylde Are he to lond come. The knyght was hende and good, Therfore he made sory mod, Forsothe as I yow say. A lybard com and took that othir And bar hym evene to his brothir And sone wente away. The lady cryde and grette ful ille And thoughte hereselven for to spylle On londe ther sche lay. The knyght bad the lady, "Be stylle And thanke we God of His wille," Thus thenne gan he say. No wondyr though here hertes wer sore; Bothe her chyldren loste they thore, Here eldere chyldren twoo. Hys wyff was hym leeff and dere, And ovyr the watyr he here bere, Hys yongeste sone alsoo. Thorwgh forest they wente dayes three Tyl they come to Grykkyssche see, They grette and wer full woo. As they stood upon the lande They sawe faste come saylande Three hundryd schyppys and moo. With topcastelis sett on lofte Rychely thenne were they wroughte With joye and mekyl pryde. A hethene kyng was therinne That Crystendome com to wynne, To wakkyn woo ful wyde. The knyght thoughte he wolde lende At the havene at the wodes ende, A lytyl ther bysyde. The knyght thoghte he wolde abyde, Men he sawgh bothe goo and ryde, Moo than he cowde nevene. The knyght sayde to the lady free, "What maner men, dame, may these bee?" With ful lowde a stevene. "We have thorwgh this forest gon, Mete ne drynk hadde we non, Now are gon dayes sevene. Go we aske hem off her mete, Yif that we may ony gete, For the Lord off hevene." To that galey gan they wynne That the Sawdon was inne, That rychely was wrought. They askyd hym sum lyvys fode For Goddes love that deyde on Rode, That they scholde werne hem nought. Soone as he herde hem crye He sayde they were come to aspye, "My schyp they han besought. I comaunde yow, bete hym away! They leve not upon my lay, Be Mahoun that the bought." Thenne sayde a knyght to the kyng, "Ser, this is a wondyr thyng, Yone pore man to see. Hys lemes are longe, hys bones grete, Hys eyen are graye and over stepe, A knyght hym semes to bee. Hys wyff is whyt so whales bon, A fayrere sawgh I nevere non, Bryght so blosme on tree. He is a fayr man and hyghe, A fayrere sawe I never with yye, A gentyl man is hee." The Sawdon dool hym thoughte And bad they scholde be forth ibroughte, "I wole hem see with syght." Whenne he hem saw, hym rewyd sore, So fayre as they bothe wore, That they ne were clothid a-ryght. "Man, wylt thou leve on my lay And doo alle thy goodes away And helpe me in my fyght? Red gold schal be thy mede; Yyf thou be doughty man of dede I schal the make a knyght." Stylle stood Ser Ysumbras And sawgh an hethene man he was; "Sere," he sayde, "nay! God wolde that nevere more That I gayn Crystyndome wore And forsake my lay. We have thorwgh this forest gon, Mete ne drynke ne gat we non, This is the sevynthe day. We aske the sum lyvys fode, For Hys love that deyde on Rode, And lat us gon oure way." The Sawdon beheeld that lady thare, Hym thoughte an aungyl that sche ware Come adoun from hevene. "Man, I wold geve the gold and fee, And thou that wymman wole selle me, More than thou can nevene. I wole the geve an hundryd pound Off penyys that be hool and round And ryche robes sevene. Sche schal be qwene of my lond, And alle men bowe unto her hond And non withstonde her stevene." Ser Ysumbras sayde, "Nay! My wyff I wole nought selle away, Though ye me for her sloo. I weddyd her in Goddys lay To holde here to myn endyng day, Bothe for wele or woo." The gold upon hys mantal they told And to himselff they gan it folde 1 And took hys wyff hym froo. And sithen on the land they hym casten And beten hym tyl hys sydys brasten And maden hys flesch al bloo. The Sawdon with hys owne hand Corownyd here qwene of his land To sende here over the see. A chartre in the maner he bonde Yiff sche evere come to londe His qwene thenne scholde sche bee. Whenne the woundyd man myghte stand He took his sone be the hande And forth thenne wente hee. Sith that the schyp was maad yare With maryneres forth to fare With that lady free. Whenne the schyp was redy to goo The lady cryyd and was ful woo And fel before the kyng. Sche sayde, "Sere, par charyté A bone that thou woldyst graunte me Withouten ony dwellyng. That myn hosebonde may speke with me Ar I passe beyonde the see, Alone, a privy thyng." Seththyn he callys hym agayn, Theroff the lady was ful fayn, Here tokene was a ryng. There was joye to sen hem mete With clyppyng and with kyssyng swete Whenne he to the schyp scholde goo. Sche sayde, "Lord, ful woo is me That I ne were drownyd in the see, Schal we departe on twoo. Into the land that I am inne, Fonde thyselff for to wynne; The kyng schole we sloo. 2 Thenne schole ye be kyng off that lond And alle men bowe unto youre hond And kevere yit al oure woo." Mete and drynk sche dede hym geve, A sevene nyght that he myghte leve, Hys lytyl sone and he. The lady soffte and mylde Kyste her lord and her chylde And swownyd sythis three. They drowgh up sayl off ryche hewe; The wynd was lowde and over hem blewe With that lady free. The knyght on the land hym sette And for hys wyffe sore he grette Whyl that he the sayl myghte see. He took his sone be the hand And wente up upon the land By holtes that were hore. They sette hem doun undyr a tree, Neyther off hem myghte other see So hadde they wept so sore. Mete and drynk they forth drowgh; Whenne the knyght hadde eete inowgh He wepyd ful yare. In his mantel of scarlet red Among the gold he putte his bred And forth with hym it bare. Thenne come they to an hyl ful hy And there they thought al nyght to ly, They myghte no lenger dree. On the morwen whenne it was day, An egle bar the gold away, The rede cloth whenne he see. A sory man thenne walkes hee And folewyd to the Grykkysche see; The fowl ovyr cam flye. By that was comen an unicorne, Hys yongeste sone awey was borne - Swyche sorwe gan he drye. Offte was hym wele and woo, But never so sory as he was thoo; He sette hym on a ston. He sayde: "Lord, ful woo is me, I have lost wyff and my children three. Now am I lefte alone. Jesu that weredest in hevene coroun Wysse me the way to sum toun, Al amis am I gone. Lady of hevene, bryght and schene, Flour of wymmen, of hevene qwene, To the I make my mone." As he wente be a lowe, Smethy-men herde he blowe, A grete fyre sawe he glowe. He askyd hem mete par charyté, They bad hym swynke for "so doo wee, We have non othir plowe." Thenne answers the knyght agayn, "For mete wolde I swynke fayn." Faste he bar and drowgh. They goven hym mete and drynk anon And taughten hym to bere ston; Thenne hadde he schame inough. Thus they taughte hym to bere ston Tyl the twelve monethis be comen and gon; They wroughten hym ful wowgh. Be that he cowde make a fyre, Thenne took he mannys hyre And wroughte more than twoo. Al the longe sevene yere A smethis man was he there And yit monethis twoo. By that he hadde hym armes dyght, Al that fel for a knyght To batayle whenne he wolde goo. Al the sevene yer long The Sawdon werryd on Crystene lond And stroyede it ful wyde. The Crystene kynges fleygh so long Tyl he hadde purveyyd batayle strong, The Sarezynys to abyde. A day of batayle thenne was sette, Crystene and hethene scholde be mete A lytyl ther bysyde. In hys armes that he hadde wrought On hors that coles hadde ibrought To batayle faste he hyde. Betwen twoo hyllys tho come hee, Crystene and hethene ther he see, The twoo kynges hadde brought Ayther batayle on a lowe; Trumpys herde he lowd blowe And wepne he saw on lofte. The knyght was hende and free And sette hym doun upon his knee. To Jhesu he besoughte To sende hym grace in the feelde, The hethene houndes that he myghte yeld The woo they hadde hym wroughte. The knyght was hende and good And styrte up with egre mood And thryys he gan hym sayn. He rod as scharp as a flynt, Myghte non withstonde his dynt Tyl his sory horse were slayn. Whenne he to the erthe soughte, An eerl off the batayle hym broughte To an hygh mountayn. There he chaunges al his wede And horsyd was on a good stede And wente anon agayn. Whenne he was armyd on that stede, It is sene yit where hys hors yede And schal be evere more. As sparkele glydes of the glede In that stour he made many blede And wroughte hem woundes sore. He rod up unto the mountayn, The Sawdon soone hath he slayn And manye that with hym wore. Al that day lastyd that fyght, Ser Ysumbras that noble knyght Wan the batayle thore. Whenne the hethene kyng was islayn, The Crystene kyng was ful fayn, He gaff hym gold and fee. "Where is now the noble knyght That steryd hym so weel in fyght That I hym nought see?" Knyghtes and squyers han hym sought And before the kyng hym brought, Ful sore woundyd was he. They askyd what was his name; He sayde, "Sere, a smethis man. What wole ye doo with me?" The Crystene kyng sayde than, "I trowe nevere that smethis man In werre were halff so wyght." "I bydde yow geve me mete and drynk And what that I wold afftyr thynk Tyl I have keveryd my myght." The kyng a gret oth he sware As sone as he hool ware That he wolde dubbe hym knyght. In a nunnerye they hym levyd To hele the woundes in hys heuyd That he took in that fyght. The nunnes of hym were ful fayn For he hadde the Sawdon slayn And manye hethene houndes. For hys sorwe they gunne sore rewe, Every day they salvyd hym newe And stoppyd weel hys woundes. They goven hym meetes and drynkes lythe And heleden hys woundes also swythe In a lytyl stounde. He bethoughte hym fol yore That he wolde dwelle ther no more Thenne that he were sounde. He took hys leve withouten les And thankyd fayre the pryores And the nunnes hende. He purveyyd hym bothe scryp and pyke And made hym a palmer lyke Redy for to wende. The ryghte wey thenne took he Tyl he come to the Grykkyssche see As God Hymself hym sente. A schyp fond he redy thare On to Acres for to fare, And thedyr faste he wente. Whenne he was in Acres lente, With wery bones up he wente And in to the cyté yede. Sevene yer was he palmer thore In hungyr and in thurst ful sore In book as men rede. As he yede upon the day, Ryght so upon the nyght he lay In hys pore wede. Off hys paynes thoughte hym nought ille, Goddes hestes to fulfylle For hys ovyrdon dede. Al the cyté he has thorwgh gon, Mete ne drynk ne gat he non Ne hous to herberwe inne. Besyde the burgh of Jerusalem He sette hym by a welle-strem, Sore wepande for hys synne. And as he sat, aboute mydnyght, Ther come an aungyl fayr and bryght And broughte hym bred and wyn. He sayde, "Palmer, weel thou bee, The Kyng off hevene gretes wel the, Forgeven is synne thyn. Reste the weel Sere Ysumbras, Forgeven is thy trespas With tungge I say sertayn. The gretes weel oure hevene Kyng And geves the Hys blessyng And byddes the turne agayn." The knyght was hende and free And settes hym doun upon hys kne And wepte sore for fayne. But he hadde no bete won, He wyste nevere whedyr to gon, But evere to walken in payne. Al a land he yede thorwgh Tyl he come to a ryche burgh; A fayr castel ther stoode. He herde telle ther dwellyd a qwene That was bothe bryght and schene, And gret wurd off her yode. Ilke day sche gaff at her gate To pore men off every state Florynys ryche and goode. "Weel wer me myghte I on gete, Therwith I myghte bye my mete And come to lyvys fode." Whenne he come to the castel gate, Pore men gold to take Fond he many on thore. Every man hadde a floreyn, Sere Ysumbras was ful feyn For hym hungryd sore. Pore men that myghte nought goo Schee took in fyffty and moo, Whylke that febeleste wore. In they tooken Ser Ysumbras That a pore palmer was, For hym they rewen sore. The ryche qwene in halle was set, Knyghtes her servyd to hond and feet In ryche robys off palle. In the floor a cloth was layde, "The pore palmer," the styward sayde, "Schal sytte above yow alle." Meete and drynk forth they brought, He sat stylle and eet ryght nought But lokyd aboute the halle. So mekyl he sawgh of game and gle, Swyche merthes he was wunt to see, The teres he leet doun falle. Stylle he sat and eet ryght nought, The qwene wundryd in her thought, To a knyght gan sche say: "Tak a chayer and a quysschene, lat see, And lat the palmere sytte be me That he me telle may Off manye aventures that he has sene In dyverse landes there he has bene Be manye a wylde way." Soone ther was a chayer sset And the qwene therinne isett, He tolde the qwene off hys lay. Goode tales the qwene he tolde, The qwene askyd whethir he wold Have ony other mete. Ryche meetes forth they broughte, The qwene wonderyd in here thoughte Why he wolde nought eete. "For my lordes soule I wole the geve - Or for his love yiff that he leve - 3 Riche cloth and meete, A chaumbyr fayr and free And a knave to serve thee Withinne the castel gete." Now dwelles the palmere there Tyl he were hool and fere And servede in the halle. He was fayr man and hygh, Alle lovede hym that hym sygh, Ful redy he was on to calle. For hym they deden a turnement bede And horseden hym on a sory stede And yit he conqueryd alle. Sykyrly as I yow say, Many a Sareyyn he slowgh that day Undyr the castel walle. Whenne Sere Ysumbras was in feelde, Was non so doughty undir scheelde That durste hym mete on stede. Sum knyght he gaff swyche a clout That bothe hys eyen styrten out And manye he made to blede. He caste the Sareyynys in dyke and slak And barst hem bothe nekke and bak, And manye fledde for drede. The ryche qwene sat and lowgh And sayde, "My palmere is good inowgh, He is wurthy to fede." Thenne fel it upon a day The knyght wente hym for to play As it was er hys kynde. A fowles nest he fond on hygh, A red cloth thereinne he sygh Wayvande with the wynde. To the nest he gan wynne, Hys owne mantyl he fond therinne, The gold there gan he fynde. Whenne he sawgh the rede gold That hys wyff was fore sold, Thenne hadde he sorowe in mynde. The gold to hys chaumbyr he bar And undyr hys bed he putte it thar And wente wepande away. Whenne he on the gold gan see He thoughte on hys wyff and on hys chyldren thre, Hys song was "weylaway!" Wer he nevere so blythe off mood Whenne he out off hys chaumbyr yood, He wepte siththen al day. So longe levede he that lyf Thorwgh the court it was ful ryff, To the qwene they gan it say. Thenne it befel upon a day The knyght wente hym to play, Hys sorewe for to mene. Squyers brak up the chaumbyr dore And seygh the gold in the flore, They schewyd it to the qwene. Whenne sche seygh the gold with syght Thenne swownyd that lady bryght, For sche it er hadde sene. Sche kyssyd it and sayde, "Allas, This was my lordys, Sere Ysumbras, My lord was wunt to bene.' To the knyghtes sche it tolde Hou sche for that monay was solde, "My lord was beten therfore. Whenne ye may the palmer see Byddes hym come and speke with me, Therto me longes sore." The palmere come in to the halle, For counsayl sche gan hym calle And askyd hym ryght thore, "Where thou this gold wan? Was thou evere gentyl man?" Hys care was more and more. With careful herte and drery cher He gaff the qwene an answere, On hys knees he hym sette. The fyrste tale that he here tolde, "Therefore, madame, my wyff was solde, Myselff bar manye buffette. Three chyldryn I have lorn, My mantyl was awey iborne And in a nest I it fette." Thenne knelyd the lady fayr of face And thankyd God of His grace That they togedere wer mette. There was joye to sen hem mete With laykyng and with kyssyng swete In armes for to folde. Aythir off hem was ful fayn, No lenger thenne cowde they layn: To knyghtes they it tolde. A ryche brydale dede they bede, Ryche and pore thedyr yede, Welcome who so wolde. They corownyd Ser Ysumbras ryght And made hym kyng, that noble knyght, For he was stout and bolde. Then was he kyng, Ser Ysumbras, Off more welthe thenne evere he was And keveryd out off care. Hys Crystyndom he gan to kythe And comaundyd crystenyd to be swythe 4 Tho that hethene ware. The hethene were at on asent, Whoso to hys parlement went, To brenne and make hym bare: "And yiff we may hymselven hent To brenne hym or to make hym schent And alle tho off Crystys lare." A day off batayle ther was sette The Crystene and the hethene to be mette, Sere Ysumbras to slo. Aftyr Sareyynys gunne they sende, There they wente fer and hende; There come hethene kynges twoo. Sere Ysumbras made hym yare To the batayle for to fare, With hym wente no moo. Whenne he was horsyd on a stede Hys men fayleden hym at nede, Hys folk wenten hym froo. Sere Ysumbras was bold and kene And took hys leve at hys qwene And syghed wondyr sore. He sayde, "Madame, have good day, Sekyrly as I yow say For now and ever more." "Helpe me, Sere, that I were dyght In armes as it were a knyght, I wole with yow fare. Yif God wolde us grace sende That we myghte togedere ende Thenne don were al my care." Soone was the lady dyght In armes as it were a knyght, He gaff here spere and scheelde. Agayne thirty thousand Sareynys and mo Ther come no moo but they twoo Whenne they metten in feelde. Ryght as they scholden have slayn bee, Ther come rydynge knyghtes three On bestes that were wylde; On a lyberd and an unycorn And on a lyoun he rod beforn, That was her eldeste chylde. The chyldryn ferden as they were wode, They slowen al that beforn hem stode, Gret joye it was to see. They slowen hethene kyngys twoo And othere Sarayynys manye moo, Twenty thousand and three. Sere Ysumbras prayde hem thare That they wolden with hym fare Al nyght with hym to be. They answerde hym with wurdes hende, "The grace off God us hedyr sende. Thyn owne chyldren be we." A noble burgh ther was besyde; Sere Ysumbras thedyr gan ryde, Hys sones he gan thedyr lede. In a chaumbyr fayr and bryght Here clothyng was ful redy dyght, They chaungyd al here wede. Off nothyng was hem wane Neyther of wylde, neyther of tame, Those doughty men off dede. Thenne three londes gunne they wynne And crystenyd alle that was therinne, In romaunse as men rede. Thenne was the kyng Ser Ysumbras Off more welthe thenne evere he was, Thre londes hadde he thare. Everylkon he gaf a land And corownyd hem with hys owne hand, Whedyr so they wolden fare. They levyd and deyde in good entente, Unto hevene here soules wente Whenne that they dede ware. Jhesu Cryst, hevene Kyng, Geve us ay Hys blessyng And schylde us from care. |
Gentlefolk; if you; hear; (see note) Of earlier times; (see note) them reward able; (see note) valiant; (see note) (see note) among those folk powerful; lean (see note) lanky; tall saw (see note) gave them rich robes, moreover property; (see note) courtesy meat (hospitality) generous tell alive (see note) Nor; (see note) (see note) voice (summons) secret; place (see note) High greets you thus age; afflicted choose which sighing there entrust myself walk old age limbs will become unsteady left; dejected bird; lost sight of; (see note) Dead Fled; forest as if crazy one; their foot obliged pain Came running toward burned; buildings Except delay happy troubles livestock; taken left one horse for They; were upset still caused (see note) expression before alive were upset Their sorely We deserve even more suffering poorly will be annoyed with us From [this]; advise we depart cloth dejected spirit surcoat as I advise seek; lived and died gracious seek sustenance cut; (see note) (see note) their sighed bitterly Their gracious from their friends young pertained blessed prosper Six days; (see note) swift gladly care he (Isumbras) took broom-plant Dear fetch; to you flower; (see note) gracious returned took Before had sad thoughts leopard wept kill; (see note) where beloved; precious bore her Greek; (see note) wept (see note) much conquer; (see note) stir up remain harbor short distance away wait count voice (see note) go Sultan sustenance the Cross refuse spy believe; religion; (see note) Mahomet who redeemed you; (see note) limbs bright; (see note) (see note) thought it sad rued believe in my faith; (see note) put aside all your gods deeds against; was faith ask from you sustenance on the Cross angel (see note) name coins command (see note) slay counted (see note) then burst blue (see note) He made a charter such that by made ready for [Fr.]; (see note) boon delay Before Then glad (see note) see them meet embracing recover from swooned three times raised; color loud wept by forests; grey eaten enough openly hill; steep (see note) endure (see note) came flying over At that moment endure himself; stone who wears Show radiant Flower lament by a hill; (see note) Blacksmiths; work the bellows (see note) them for food work no other plow (way to get food) work eagerly carried; brought made; mistake (see note) accomplished (see note) fashioned ravaged it widely fled; (see note) assembled a great army meet [in battle] hastened Each one's battalions; hill weapons; lifted; (see note) clever; noble placed himself (see note) return knightly; virtuous angry manner thrice; assay (charge) blow went from armor steed went back right away (see note) went ember battle; bleed governed himself valiant food whatever I think of later regained my strength; (see note) left; (see note) head applied salves to him gave; soothing quickly time readily healthy delay prioress gracious bag; staff pilgrim (see note) arrived went clothes wishes egregious lodge fortress Sorely weeping you gentle joy Unless; better fortune knew went radiant; splendid her reputation spread Every state Florins one many a one there coin walk Those who were most feeble had great pity fine cloth carpet ate nothing amusements accustomed cushion; (see note) by where story delicacies able to go saw (see note) command truly (see note) horseback blow eyes burst ditch; ravine broke laughed formerly; nature bird's he went (see note) went afterwards well known (see note) took leisure time bemoan forced open saw formerly (see note) (see note) dejected countenance For that lost found (see note) (see note) loving behavior Each; glad remain silent wedding feast; command went recovered from make known (see note) in agreement burn; destitute catch disgraced; (see note) belief slay prepared himself from Truly dressed (see note) went about; crazy (see note) gracious words; (see note) sent (see note) town lead lacking domesticated (meats); (see note) did they conquer Each one dead always protect (see note) |