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Mekyll and littill, olde and yynge, Herkyns all to my talkynge Of whaym I will yow kythe. Jhesu fadir of heven kynge, Gyff us all thy dere blyssynge And make us glade and blythe. For full sothe sawis I will yow synge, Off whaym the worde full wyde gan sprynge, 1 And ye will a stownde me lythe. In the bukes of Rome als it es tolde How byfelle amange oure eldyrs olde, Full ofte and fele sythe. Somtym byffell ane aventure, In Rome ther was ane Emperoure, Als men in romance rede. He was a man of grete favoure And levede in joye and grete honoure And doghety was of dede. In tornament nor in no fyghte In the werlde ther ne was a better knyghte, No worthier undir wede. Octovyane was his name thrughowte; Everylke man hade of hym dowte When he was armede one stede. Ane Emprice he hade to wyffe, One of fayreste that was one lyffe, Thus thies clerkes sayne us so; Seven yeres had thay samen bene With joy and gamen tham bytwene, And other myrthis moo; The seven yere were comen and gone, Bot child togedir had thay none Getyn bytwene tham two, That after tham thair land moghte welde, When that thay drewe till elde: And forthi tham in hert tham was full woo. And als the Emperoure satt appon a daye, In his chambir hym to playe With his lady bryghte, He byhelde hir faire lyre, Was whyte so blossome on the brere, That semly was of syghte. A sorow than to his herte ther ranne Forthi that thay childir hade nanne Thaire landis to rewle one ryghte. And by his lady so als he satte, For sorowe his chekes wexe all wate, That was so hende a knyghte. Bot when the lady that gan aspye, All chaunged than hir bryghte blyee And scho syghede full sore. Scho felle hir lorde one knees agayne, And of his sorow scho gan hym frayne, And of hs mekyll care. "Sir," scho sais, "if it were your will Youre concelle for to schewe me till And of your lyffes fare, Ye wote I ame youre werldes fere, Opyn your herte unto me here, Youre comforthe may be the mare." Than in his armes he gan hir folde And all his sorow he to hir tolde And all his hertis wonde. "Now hafe we seven yere sammen bene And hafe no chylde us bytwene, For fay we sall hythen fownde, And I ne wote how this land sall fare Bot lyfe in werre and in kare When we are broghte to grownde. Therefore I hafe so mekyll thoghte That when I am to bedde broghte I slepe bot littill stownde." And than answerde that lady bryghte, "Sir I kan rede yow full ryghte, Gyffe yow nothynge ill. A ryche abbaye schall ye do make For oure swete lady sake, And landis gyffe theretill, And scho will pray hir Son so fayre That we may samen gete an ayere, This land to welde with skyll." An abbaye than he gerte wyrke so And sone he gatt knave childire two, Als it was Goddis will. With childe thane yode that lady thore; Full grete scho wexe with paynnes sore, That was so faire and free. Till the tym felle that it was soo, The lady hade knave childir two That semly weren to see. Tythande come to the Emperoure There he laye in his ryche towre; A full glade man was hee. Two maydynes hym the bodworde broghte - Withowttyn gyftes yede thay noghte: Aythire hadde townnes three. The Emperoure rosse with mylde mode And till his chambir he hym yode And thankes God His sande. Erly are the daye gan sprynge, He did a pryste his messe to synge; His modir thore he fande. "Sone," scho said, "I am full blythe That the Empryse sall haf hyre lyfe And lyffe with us in lande, Bot mekyll sorowe dose it me That Rome sall wrange ayerde bee And in uncouthe hande." "Modir," he sayse, "why saye ye soo? Haffe I noghte knave-childir two? I thanke it Goddes will." "Nay certis" scho said, "sone myn, Wete thou wele thay are noghte thyn, And that lykes me full ill. For thou myghte no childir have, Scho hase takyn thy kokes knave; I will it prove thurgh skyll." A sorowe there to his herte gan goo That wordis moghte he speke no moo But yod awaye full still. Till his chapelle forthe he yode; Full sory at his messe he stode Als man that was in kare. His modir iwhils garte calle a knave And highte hym grete gyftis to hafe, A thowsande pownde or mare. To the chambir bothe thay tuk the waye There the Empryce in childbed laye; All slepede that were there, For scho had wakyd ryghte longe In paynes and in thoghte full strange Or scho delyvered ware. Than said that lady to that knave, "Hye the faste, the golde to hafe; Thou schall be rewarde this nyghte. Haste the tyte with all thi myghte, Prevely that thou were dyghte And that thou were unclede. Softely by hir thou in crepe That scho ne wakyn of hir slepe, For full seke es scho bystadde." Whatte for lufe and whatt for drede, Into the ladyes beedd he yede; He dyd als scho hym badd. Bot ever he droghe hym ferre awaye For the rechese that scho in laye, Full sore than was he drade. The Emperours modir away yode than And till hir son full tite scho wan There he att his messe stode. "Son," scho saide, "thou trowed noghte me; Come forthe, thou sall the sothe now see." With hir to chambir he yode. Bot when the Emperoure sawe that syghte, For sorowe no worde speke he ne myghte, For he wexe nerhande wode. A scharpe baselarde owte he droghe; That giltles knave there he sloghe - Alle was byblede with blode. Ay lay that lady faste and slepee A dolefull swevenynge gan scho mete; Scho was a wofull wyghte. Hir thoghte scho was in wyldyrnes, In thornes and in thyknes, That scho myghte hafe no syghte. And ther come flyande over the strande A dragon all full bryghte birnande, That all schone of that lyghte. In his palmes alle byrnand so Up he tuke hir childir two And away he tuke his flyghte. Therewith the lady bygan to wake, A dolefull gronyng gan scho make And scho syghede full sare. The Emperour to the knave wente; The hede up by the hare he hente And caste it till hir thare. The lady blyschede up in the bedde; Scho saw the clothes all byblede - Full mekyll was hir care. Scho bygan to skryke and crye And sythen in swonynge for to ly; Hirselfe scho wolde forfare. Wordis of this were spoken no mo To that lady to the kirke solde go, Als the lawe was in that lede. The Emperoure made a full riche feste Of kynges and dukes that were honeste, Of many and dyverse stede. The kynge of Calabre, allas, That the lady fadir was, Thedir than gan he bede. Alle were thay sampnede appon a daye With grete solace and mekill playe; To the kyrke that lady yede. And there duellyn the kynges samen With joy and myrthe and mekill gamen At that mawngery, With gud myrthis tham emange, Harpes, fethils and full faire songe, Cytoles and sawtrye, Till the sevenyghte was gone, With alkyn welthis in that wone Of myrthis and mynstralsye. Was never so riche a gedirynge That hadd so sary a partynge, I sall yow tell for why. Grete dole forsothe it es to telle, Oppon the haghten daye byfell; Herkyns and ye may here. The Emperoure to the chambir yode, All the lordes abowte hym stode With full mery chere. The Emperoure said, "I undirstande Swylke an awnter fell in this lande By a lady to yere That was overtaken with swylk a treson. I aske juggement of this with reson Of hir whate worthy were." When the Emperoure his tale hade tolde, The kyng of Calabire answere wolde, He ne wyste whate it bement. He said: "It es worthi for hir sake, Withowtten the ceté a fyre to make With rightwyse juggement, And when the fyre es byrnand faste, Hir and hir childir in it to caste, Till thay to the dede be bryntte." The Emperoure answeres to hym sone, "Thyn awen dogheter hase it done, I holde to thyn assent." There was dole and grete peté; A fyre thay made withowtten the ceté, With brondes byrnande bryghte. To the fyre thay ledde that lady thare; Two sqwyers hir childir bare, That semly weren of syghte. In a kirtyll of sckarlett rede Into the fyre to take hir dede All redy was scho dyghte. The kynge of Calabire made evyll chere, He ne myghte for sorowe stande hir nere. Bothe wepede kynge and knyghte. The lady than, the sothe to telle, Byfore hir lorde one knees scho felle And bothe hir handes uphelde. Scho sayde, "My lorde, for Jhesu sake, Graunt me ane orysoune to make Till Hym that alle sall wellde, And then of me ye do youre wyll, The dede that I am ordeynede till Therto I will me yelde." The Emperoure graunted hir righte so, Ilke a man than was full woo That were that day in the felde. Than the lady hir one knes there sette, Till Jhesu Cryste full sore scho grette; No wondir thoghe hir ware wo. "Now Lorde," scho sayd, "of hevens blysse, This day thou me rede and wysse, And heven qwene also. Mary, mayden and modir free, My prayere make I to the For my childir two: Als thou lete tham be borne of me Helpe that thay crystoned may be, Or that thay to the dede goo." Than lordis that abowte hyr ware And laydes felle in swonyng thore, And knyghttes stode wepande. The Emperoure stode by hyr full nere; The teris trykylde one his lyre That wele nere ne myghte he stande. Than spake he wordis of gret peté And sayde, "Thi dede will I noghte see, With herte nor yitt with hande." The Emperoure gafe hire leve to goo And take with hir hir childir two, And flemed hir of his lande. The Emperoure gafe hir fowrty pownde Of florence, that were riche and rownde, In romance als we rede. And he bytaghte hir knyghtes two And bad that thay solde with hir goo Owt of his lande to lede. Two sqwyers hir childir bare In stede ther thay were never are, And intill uncouthe thede. When scho was flemyd that was so gent, Ilke a lorde to hys lande es went, For sorow thaire hertes gan blede. When this lady was in a wyldirnes That full thyke of wylde bestes bysett was, And all wylsom it semed to syghte. Thay hir bytaghte hir childir two, Gafe hir hir golde and bad hir go; A stye ther laye full ryghte. They bade hir holde the hye strete, For drede with whilde bestes to mete, That mekill weren of myghte; And agayne thay went with sory mode, And allone that lady, forthe scho yode, Als a full wafull wyghte. Scho hade so wepede ther byforne That scho the ryghte way hase sone forlorne, So mekill was hir thoghte. And into a wode, was ferly thykke, There dales weren depe and cleves wykke; The ryghte waye fonde scho noghte. In a greve undir ane hill Scho found a welle full faire and schille, And ane herbere therby was wroghte. With faire trees it was bysette, The lady sett hir down and grette, For ferrere scho ne moghte. Bot by the welle scho sett hir down; Scho gret and cryede with sory sown, For scho was lefte allone. "Now Lorde," scho said, "if it be Thi will, In this wode late me nott spylle For full will I am of wone. Mary mayden, qwene of heven, I pray the herkyn to my steven And mend my carefull mone. So full I am of pyn and wo That thre dayes es gon and mo, That mete ne ete I none." And by that scho had hir childir dyghte, By that than wexe it even myrk nyghte Als scho satt by the welle. So in that herbere down scho laye Till it was lyghte on the tother day, That fowlles herde scho than synge and yelle. Thare come an ape to seke hir pray; Hir one childe scho bare awaye Up heghe appon ane hyll. What wondir was yif hir were wo When hir child was fro hir so? In swonynge doun scho felle. And in all the sorow that scho in was, Ryghte so com rynnande a lyones Of wode als scho wolde wede. In swonynnge als the lady laye, Hyr other childe scho bare awaye, Hir whelpes with to feede. Whate wonndir was thofe hyr were wo, Awaye were borne hir childir two; In swoghe scho lay for drede. Bot for it was a kynge sone iwysse, The lyones moghte do it no mys, Bot forthe therwith scho yede. There come a fewle full faire of flyghte, A gryffone, sayse the buke, he hyghte, Over those holtes so hare. The fewle than was so mekill of myghte, That esyly myghte he bere a knyghte Alle armed thofe he ware. The lyones with the childe tuke he, And intill ane ile of the see The gryffone bothe tham bare. The child slepid in the lyones mouthe, Of wele ne wo it ne kouthe, Bot God kepid it fro kare. And whane the lyones gatt fote on lande, Full styfly than gan scho up stande, Als beste bothe stronge and whilde. The gryffone thurgh Goddis grace scho sloghe, And of that fewle scho ete ynoghe And layde hir by that childe. The childe sowkyde the lyones, Als it Goddis will was, When it the pappes felide. The lyones gan it wake And lufe it for hir whelpes sake And was therwith full mylde. With hir feet scho made a dene, That lyttill childe in broghte scho then And kepede hym day and nyghte. And ay, when hir hungirde sore, Scho yode and ete of the gryffone more, That are was mekill of myghte. And thus, als it was Goddis will, The lyones byleves thore styll With that barne so bryghte. The lady that was leved allone, To Jhesu Criste scho made hir mone Als a full wofull wyghte. Scho sais, "Jhesu, kyng of alle, With carefulle herte to the I calle, That thou be my socoure. Als I was kyngis dogheter and qwene And Emprice of Rome hase bene And many a riche towre. And thorowe the lessynges es one me wroghte Till mekill sorow thus am I broghte, And owte of myn honoure. This werldes blysse hafe I forlorne, And my two childir er fro me borne; This lyfe may I noghte dowre! "This sorowe, Lorde, that I am in, Full wele I wote, es for my syn; Welcome be alle Thi sande. To the werlde will I me never gyffe, Bot serve The, Lorde, whills I may lyfe, Into the Holy Londe." And over an hille the waye scho name And to the Grekkes se scho came And welke appon the strande. And byfore hir an haven scho seghe And a ceté with towris full heghe; A redy waye ther scho fand. Whan the lady com than to that town, A schipe scho fond all redy bowne With pylgremes for to fare. Scho badd the schipmen golde and fee In that schipp that scho moghte be, If that thaire willes it were. A bote thay sente appone the flode To the lady right ther scho stode, A wyghte man in hir bare. And by the maste thay badde hir sytt, There myghte no man hir sorowe wete And ay scho wepede sare. The schippe come sayland by an ile syde, The mayster badd that thay sold byde, "For fresche water hafe we nane." Bysyde tham was a roche on hye, A welle streme thare thay see Come rynnande over a stone. Two men to the lande thay sent, Heghe upe ovir that roche thay went; The welle thay found anone. The lyones laye in hir dene And was full blythe of tho two men, And full son scho hade tham slayne. So lange one ankir gan thay ryde, Thies two men for to habyde, Till none was of the daye. Than gan twelve men tham dyghte With helme and with hawberke bryghte, And till the lande wente thay. The lyones fonde thay in hir dene, A knave childe laye sowkand hir then And gan with the lyones to playe. Umwhile the childe sowkede hir pappe, Umwhile gan thay kysse and clappe; For drede thay fledde awaye. Thay tolde the wondir that thay seghe, And that thay fonde on the roche on heghe A lyones in hir den. A knave childe ther in laye, Therewith the lyones gan hir playe, And dede were bothe thaire men. Than spake that lady so mylde, "Mercy, syrris, that es my childe - One land ye late me rynn." A bote thay sett appon the flode, The lady unto the lande ther yode, Full sore wepide thay then. When scho com on that roche on heghe, Scho ran ywhils that scho myght dreghe With full sory mode. The lyones thurgh Goddis grace, When scho sawe the lady face, Full debonorly up sche stode. Thurgh the myghte of Mary mylde Scho sufferd that lady to tak hir childe And scho forthe with hir yode; Bot when the schippmen the lyones seghe, The land durste thay noghte com neghe; For drede thay were nere wode. Sum hent an ore and som a sprete, The wylde lyones for to mete, And thaire chippe for to werre. The lady intill thair chippe thay hente; Thritty fote after the lyones sprent - Durste no man in hir bere. There was than bot lyttill glee, For many lepped into the see, So ferde of hir thay were; Bot by the lady downe scho laye And with the childe bygan to playe And to no man wolde scho dere. They droghe up saile of riche hewe, The wynd tham owte of haven blewe Over that wan streme. The fyrste lande than that thay seghe, Was a ceté with towres full heghe That hyghte Jerusalem. Als blythe were thay than of that syghte Als es the fowlles, when it es lighte, Of the dayes gleme. When it was ebbe and no flode, The lady to the lande than yode, Into that riche rewme. Over all the ceté wyde and longe Of that lady the worde than spronge, That thore one lande was lente, And how scho hade a lyones Broghte owte of wyldirnes. The kyng after hir sente; He bad scho solde lett for no thynge And the lyones with hir brynge. To the castelle es scho went. When scho byfore the kynge ther come, He kende hir for the Emprice of Rome And by the hande he hir hente. The kyng than frayned of hir fare; Scho tolde hym of hir mekill care And of hir grete unryghte. He garte hir duelle with the qwene stille, Scho hadd maydyns redy to will To serve hir bothe daye and nyghte. The childe that was so faire and fre, The kyng did it crystened for to be. Octovyane it highte. When the childe was of elde That he couthe ryde and armes welde, The kyng dubbede hym to knyghte. The lyones that was so wilde, Belefte with the lady and the childe; Hir comforthe was the more. The lady byleved with the qwene With joye and blysse tham bytwene, To covyre hir of hir care. Ilke man hir plesyde day and nyghte To make hir glade with alle thair myghte, Unto hir better were. In Jerusalem thus gan scho duelle; Of hir other childe now will I telle, That the ape away bare. Now comes the ape that was wilde Thurgh the forest with the childe Over the holttis so hare. Als the ape come over a strete, With a knyghte so gan scho mete, Als scho the childe bare. Thore faghte the knyght wondirly longe Agayne the ape styffe and stronge, His swerde so brake he there. The ape leved the childe and away ran, The knyght the child son up wan And with it forthe gan fare. Forthe with the child the knyght went than, In the wode mett he owtlawes tene, That mekill weryn of myghte. Yitt was never the knyghte so wo, For his swerde was brokyn in two, That he myghte nothyng fyghte. If all the knyghte were kene and thro, Those owtlawes wan the child hym fro, That was so swete a wyghte. The knyghte was wondid, forsothe to saye, Unnethes his horse bare hym awaye, So dulefully was he dyghte. Those outlawes sett tham on a grene, The child thay laide tham bytwene, And it faste on tham loghe. The mayster owtlawe spake then, "Grete schame it were for hardy men, If thay a childe sloghe. I rede we bere it here besyde To the se with mekill pride, And do we it no woghe; It es comyn of gentill blode; We sall hym selle for mekill gude, For golde and sylver enoghe." Two owtlawes than made tham yare, To the Grekkes se thay it bare; Thay couthe the way full ryghte. It was no man that it seghe That thay ne wepid with thaire eghe So faire it was of syghte. A burgesse of Pareche com than nere Had bene a palmere seven yere; Clement the Velayne he hyghte. "Sirris," he said, "will ye this child selle, The golde will I for hym telle, Florence bothe brode and bryghte." For fourty pound hym selle thay wolde. He said, "Full lange may ye hym halde, Are ye hym so selle may. Gode men," he said, "be my hode, I trowe ye kan ful littill gude, Swilke wordis for to saye! Golde and silver es me bot nede, Bot twentty pownd I will yow bede And mak yow redy paye." The childe thay unto Clement yolde, And twentty pownde he tham tolde And went forthe one his waye. Clement hase the childe boghte, A payneyere did he to be wroghte, The childe in forthe to lede. A noresche gatt he hym also, Into Fraunce with hym to go, That yong childe for to fede. Home he tuke the way ful ryghte And hastede hym with all his myghte, And unto Paresche he yede. The burgesche of Paresche wer ful fayne, Full many went Clement agayne; A slavyne was his wede. Thay haylsest Clement and kyssed hym alle And broghte hym till his awen haulle. His wyfe was glade and blythe. Scho hym fraynede the ryght dome How he to the childe come; He tolde hir also swythe: "In the Holy Lond I hym gatt, And thore I wold hym noghte lett, The sothe I will the kythe." His wyfe ansuerde with herte mylde, "He sall be myn awen childe." Scho kyste hym ful ofte sythe. Clement saide to his wyfe tho, "Sen the childe es getyn so In the hethen thede, And now es it to this land broghte, I pray the, dame, that thou greve the noghte, And riche sall be thi mede." "Sir," scho said with wordis free, "Full welecom es it unto me. Full faire sall I hym fede And yeme hym with oure awen child, To that he come of helde, And clothe tham in one wede." Clement was therof full blythe, He garte crysten the child ful swythe; It was not duellid that nyghte. And als it es in romance tolde, The right name that thay it callde, Florent the child hyghte. And when the child was seven yere olde He was bothe wysse, faire, and bolde, The man that redis righte. Alle the rewme wyde and longe Worde of the childe spronge, So was he faire to syghte. Ever the burgesse and his wyfe Loffed the childe als thaire lyfe, With tham he was full dere. When he was tuelve yere olde and more, He sett his owun son to the lore 2 To be a chawndelere. And Florent bytaughte he oxen two And bad hym over the bryge go Unto a bouchere, To lere his crafte for to do. Als hym was never of kynd therto, To use swylke mystere. Als Florent over the brygge gan go, Dryvand on his oxen two, A semely syghte sawe he: A sqwyere bare, als I yow telle, A gentill fawcon for to selle, That semly was to see. Florent to the sqwyere yede And bothe his oxen he gan hym bede For that fowle so fre. The sqwyere therof was full glade, He tuke the oxen als he hym bade, Florent was blythe in ble. The squyer therof was full gladd When he tho oxen taken had And hyed owt of syght. And Florent to fle was full fayne - He wende he wolde have had hys hawk agayne And ranne wyth all hys myght. Home he toke the ryght way To Clements hows as hyt lay, And yn he wente full ryght. He fedde the hawke whyll he wolde, And sythen he can hys fedurs folde As the squyer had hym teyght. Clement came yn full sone; "Thefe, where haste thou my oxen done, That Y the begyfte?" Grete dele myght men see thore; Clement bete the chylde sore, That was so swete a wyght. "Wyth odur mete shalt thou not leve But that thys glede wyll the yeve, Neythur day ne nyght." As sore beton as the chylde stode, Yyt he to the fawcon yode, Hys fedurs for to ryght. The chylde thoght wondur thore That Clement bete hym so sore, And mekely he can pray. "Syr," he seyde, "for Crystys ore, Leve and bete me no more, But ye wyste well why. Wolde ye stonde now and beholde How feyre he can hys fedurs folde, And how lovely they lye, Ye wolde pray God wyth all your mode That ye had solde halfe your gode, Soche anodur to bye." The burgeys wyfe besyde stode, Sore sche rewyd yn hur mode And seyde, "Syr, thyn ore. For Mary love, that maydyn mylde, Have mercy on owre feyre chylde And bete hym no more. Let hym be at home and serve us two, And let owre odur sonys go Eche day to lore. Soche grace may God for the chylde have wroght, To a bettur man he may be broght Than he a bocher were!" Aftur all thys tyme befelle Clement forty pownde can telle Into a pawtenere. Clement toke hyt chylde Florent And to the brygge he hym sente, Hys brothur hyt to bere. As the chylde thorow the cyté of Parys yede, He sye where stode a feyre stede, Was stronge yn eche werre. The stede was whyte as any mylke, The brydyll reynys were of sylke, The molettys, gylte they were. Florent to the stede can gone; So feyre an hors sye he never none Made of flesche and felle. Of wordys the chylde was wondur bolde And askyd whedur he schoulde be solde, The penyes he wolde hym telle. The man hym lovyd for thirty pownde, Eche peny hole and sownde, No lesse he wolde hym selle. Florent seyde, "To lytull hyt were, But never the less thou schalt have more." Forty pownde he can hym telle. The merchaund therof was full blythe For to take the money swythe, And hastyd hym away. Chylde Florent lepe up to ryde, To Clementys hows wyth grete pryde He toke the ryght way. The chylde soght noon odur stalle, But sett hys stede yn the halle And gave hym corne and haye. And sethyn he can hym kembe and dyght That every heer lay aryght And nevyr oon wronge lay. Clement comyth yn full sone: "Thefe," he seyde, "what haste thou done? What haste thou hedur broght?" "Mercy, fadur, for Goddys peté Wyth the money that ye toke me, Thys horse have y boght." The burges wyfe felle on kne thore, "Syr, mercy," sche seyde, "for Crystys ore, Owre feyre chylde bete ye noght. Ye may see, and ye undurstode, That he had never kynde of thy blode That he these werkys hath wroght." Aftur thys hyt was not longe, In Fraunce felle a werre stronge, An hundred thousande were there ylente. Wyth schyldys brode and helmys bryght, Men that redy were to fyght, Thorowowt the londe they went. They broke castels stronge and bolde, Ther myght no hye wallys them holde, Ryche townys they brente. All the kyngys, ferre and nere, Of odur londys that Crysten were, Aftur were they sente. Octavyon, the Emperour of Rome, To Parys sone he come Wyth many a mody knyght. And othur kynges kene wyth crowne, All they were to batell bowne Wyth helmys and hawberkys bryght. In Parys a monyth the oost lay, For they had takyn a day Wyth the Sowdon moche of myght. The Sowdon wyth hym a gyaunt broght; The realme of Fraunce durste noght Agenste hym to fyght. The Sowdon had a doghtur bryght, Marsabelle that maydyn hyght, Sche was bothe feyre and fre; The feyrest thynge alyve that was In crystendome or hethynnes, And semelyest of syght. To the kynge of Fraunce the maydyn sende To lye at Mountmertrous there nerehonde, From Parys mylys thre. At Mountmertrous besyde Borogh Larayn, That stondyth over the banke of Sayne, For aventours wolde sche see. The kyng of Fraunce the maydyn hyght, As he was trewe kyng and knyght, And swere hur be hys fay That she must savely come therto; Ther schulde no man hur mysdo Neythur be nyght ne day. The mayde therof was full blythe; To the castell sche went swythe And seven nyghtes there sche lay. For sche thoght joye and pryde To see the Crystyn knyghtes ryde, On fylde them for to play. . . . . . "Merveylle therof thynkes mee, If thou and alle thi men will blyn, I will undirtake to wynn Paresche, that stronge ceté; Bot Mersabele than weedde I will." Sayd the Sowdanne, "I halde thertill With thi, that it so bee." Arageous, appon that same daye To the Mount Martyn ther the lady laye, The waye he tuke full ryghte. And hir hade lever dede to hafe bene Than hym in hir chambir to hafe sene, So fulle he was of syghte. He sayse, "Leman, kysse me belyve, Thy lorde me hase the graunte to wyefe, And Paresche I hafe hym hyghte. And I hete the witterly The kynges hevede of Fraunce, certanely, Tomorowe or it be nyghte." The mayden sayse with mylde mode To the geaunte, ther he stode, And gaffe hym this answere: "The kynges hevede if thou me brynge, Than sall thou hafe thyne askynge, For full lefe to me it were." Thane armede the geaunt hym ful wele Bothe in iryn and in stele, With helme and schelde and spere. It was twenty fote and twoo Bytwyxe his crown and his too, There myghte none horse hym bere. The geaunte tuke the ryghte waye Unto Paresche that ilke daye, With hym wente no moo. He lenede hym over the towne walle, And thus he spake the folke withalle Wordis kene and throo. He badde thay solde send owte a knyghte That myghte hym fynde his fill of fyghte, Ore he that londe wolde overgoo. Therin solde he nother leve one lyffe, Beste ne man, childe ne wyffe, That he ne sold tham bryne and sloo. Than all the folke of that ceté Rane the geaunte for to see, At the bretage thare he stode. Bot als ferre als thay myghte hym se or ken, Faste awaywarde gan thay ryn; For ferde thay were nere wode. There wente owte armede knyghtes fyve And sayd thay wolde aventure thair lyfe; The geaunt thoghte it gode. Full hastyly he hase tham slayne. Skapede never one qwykke agayne, That owte unto hym yode. When he had slayne the knyghtes fyve, Agayne to the walles gan he dryve And over the bretage gan lye. "Kynge Dagaberde of Fraunce," he sayde, "Come thiselfe and fyghte abrayde For thi curtasye! For I will with none other fyghte: Thi hevede I hafe my leman highte; Scho salle me kysse with thi. And if thou ne will noghte do so, Alle this ceté I will overgo; Als dogges than sall thay dy!" Grette dole it was than for to see The sorowe that was in that ceté, Bothe with olde and yonge. For ther was nother kynge ne knyghte That with that geaunt than durste fyghte, He was so foulle a thynge. And ay iwhills Arageous with his staffe Many a grete bofete he gaffe And the walles downe gan he dynge. And than gane alle the pepille crye Unto God and to mylde Marye With sorowe and grete wepynge. Florent than askede his fadir Clement Whate alle that spetous noyes than ment, And whedir the folke so faste ren. Clement saide: "My dere sone, A geaunte to the walles es wonne, Hase slayne fyve of oure men. Oure kynges hede hase he highte The Sowdan dogheter that es so bryghte, For scho solde kysse hym then. There es no man dare with hym fyghte; Forthi my dere sone, hase he tyghte This ceté to breke and brynne." "Now fadir," he sayde, "I hafe a stede, Wanttes me no thynge bot wede - Nowe helpes that I were dyghte. A, lorde, why ever thus many men hym drede? Me thynke I myghte do alle his nede And I were armed ryghte." Sayse Clement, "And thou therof speke, I trow I sall thyn hede breke, For had thou of hym a syghte, For all this ceté nolde thou habyde, Bot faste awaywarde wold thou ryde, He es so fowle a wyghte!" "A, fadir," he said, "takes to none ille, For with the geaunt fighte I wille, To luke, if I dare byde. And bot I titter armede be, I sall noghte lett, so mote I the, That I ne salle to hym ryde." Clement saide, "Sen thou willt fare, I hafe armoures swylke as thay are; I sall tham lene the this tyde, Bot this seven yere sawe thay no sonne." "Fadir," he sayd, "alle es wonne! Ne gyffe I noghte a chide." "Bot Fadir," he sayde, "I yow praye, That we ne make no more delaye Bot tyte that I ware dyghte; For I wolde noghte for this ceté That another man before me Undirtuke that fyghte." "Nay, nay," saise Clement, "I undirtake That ther will none swylke maystres make, 3 Nother kynge ne knyghte. Bot God sone sende the grace wirchipe to wyn And late me never hafe perelle therin, To the dede if thou be dyghte." For sorowe Clement herte nere braste When he one hym an actone caste; The childe was bolde and kene. Ane hawberke abowne lete he falle, Full rysty weren the mayles alle, And alle his atyre bydene. Clement broghte forthe schelde and spere That were unsemly for to were, Soyty and alle unclene. A swerd he broghte the child byforne, That seven yere byfore had not bene borne Ne drawen, and that was sene. Clement drewe the swerd, bot owte it nolde; Gladwyn his wyfe sold the schawebereke holde, And bothe righte faste thay drewe. And when the swerde owte glente, Bothe unto the erthe thay went - Than was ther gamen ynoghe. Clement felle to the bynke so faste That mouthe and nose al tobraste, And Florente stode and loghe. Grete gamen it es to telle How thay bothe to the erthe felle, And Clement laye in swoghe. Child Florent in his unfaire wede, Whane he was armede on his stede, His swerde with hym he bere. His aventayle and his bacenete, His helme appon his heved was sett, And bothe full soyty were. Bothe two, Clement and his wyfe, Luffede the childe als thaire lyfe; For hym thay wepede sore. To Jhesu Criste full faste thay bede, "Lene hym grace, wele for to spede!" Thay myghte do hym no more. For his atyre that was unbryghte, Hym byhelde bothe kyng and knyghte, And mekill wondir tham thoghte. Many a skornefulle worde he hent Als he thrughe the ceté went, Bot therof gafe he noghte. Than gane the folke to the walles goo To see the batelle bytwyx tham two When thay were samen broghte. His fadir Clement, full sory was he, To that he wyste whether mayster solde be, 4 And glade ne was he noghte. Florent come to the gates full sone And bade the portere swythe undone And open the gates wyde. All that abowte the gates stode, Loughe so faste thay were nere wode, And skornede hym that tyde. Ilk a man sayde to his fere, "Here commes a doghety bachelere, Hym semes full wele to ryde; Men may see by hys brene bryghte That he es a nobylle knyghte The geaunt for to habyde!" Bot than the geaunt upryghte gan stande And tuke his burdone in his hande, That was of stele unryde. And to the childe he smote so That his schelde brake in two And felle one aythire syde. Than was the childe never so wo Als when his schelde was in two, Bot more he thoghte to byde. And to the geaunt he smote so sore That his righte arme flowe of thore; The blode stremyde than full wyde. Than Clement appon the walles stode And full blythe he wex than in his mode And gan amend his chere And said, "Son, I hafe herde, I wene, Thi nobill dynt that es so kene; With me thou arte full dere. Now thynke me righte in my mode That thou hase wele bysett oure gude, Swylke lawes for to lere." Childe Florent in his unfaire wede Spronge als sparke dose of glede, The sothe I will yow saye, And rode hym forthe with egre mode To the geaunt, righte ther he stode - Was thore no childes playe! The geaunt smote to the childe so That childe and horse to the grownde gan go, The stede one knes laye. Than cryede Clement with sory mode And said, "Sone, be of comforthe gude And venge the, if thou maye." And als ill als the childe ferde, When he the speche of Clement herde, His herte bygan to bolde. Boldly his swerde up he laghte And to the geaunt a stroke he raughte That all his blode gan colde. The childe hym hitt one the schuldir bone That to the pappe the swerde gan gone, And the geaunt to the grounde gan folde. And thus it felle thorow Goddes grace, He slewe the geaunt in that place, In bukes als it es tolde. The kynges appon the walles stode; When the geaunt to the grounde yode, The folke, full blythe thay were. Alle the folke at the childe loughe, How he the geaunt hede of droghe When he hade smetyn hym thore. The childe leppe up appon his stede And rode awaye wele gude spede; With tham spekes he no more. The childe toke the ryghte waye To the castelle ther the mayden laye, And the hede with hym he bare. When he come to the mayden haulle, He founde the burdes coverde alle And tham bowne to the mete. The mayden that was mylde of mode, In a surkott in hyr haulle scho stode And redy was to hir sette. "Damesele," said Florent, "faire and free, Wele now gretis thi leman the Of that he the byhete. Lo, here an hevede I hafe the broghte - The kynges of Fraunce ne es it noghte, For it were full evylle to gete." That mayden brighte als golden bey, When scho the geaunt heved sey, Full wele scho it kende, And sayde, "He was ay trewe of his hete - When he the kynges hevede myght not get, His owen he hase me sende." "Damesele," he sayde, "faire and bryghte, Now wolde I hafe that, that ye hym highte." And over his sadylle he lende. Full ofte sythes he kyssede that maye And hent hir upe and wolde awaye, Bot thay alle the brigges did fende. Crye and noyse rose in thate towne, And sone thay ware to the batelle bowne - Full many an hardy knyghte. With speres longe and swerdes brounne. And Florent lete the mayden downe And made hym bowne to fyghte. Hyre surkotte sleve he rofe of then And sayde, "By this ye sall me kene When ye se me by syghte." Swylke lufe wexe bytwix tham two, That lady grett, so was hir wo, That he ne wyn hir myghte. Childe Florent in his unfaire wede, Full many a Sarezene made he to blede, The sothe I will yow saye. Many a hethyn man in a stownde He made to lygge appon the grownde - Was ther no childes playe. When Florent thoghte that he wold founde Withowtten other weme or wounde, To Paresche he tuke the waye The hethyn men were so adrede, To Cleremont with the may thay flede, There the Sowdanne laye. And in hir fadir paveleone Thore lyghttede the mayden down And knelede appon hir knee. Than was the Sowdane wondir blythe And to his dogheter went he swythe And kyssed hir sythes thre. He sett hir downe appon the dese That full riche was, withowttyn lese, With grete solempnyté Scho tolde hir fadir and wilde nott layne, How Arageous the geaunt was slayne. A fulle sorye man was he. Scho saide: "Leve fadir, thyne ore, At the Mont Martyn late me lye no more, So nere Christen men to bene. In swylke ane aventure I was this daye, A rebawde me hade nere borne awaye Fro alle myn knyghttes kene. Thore was no man of hethen londe That myghte a dynt stonde of his honde, That he ne fellede tham bydene. Als ofte als I appon hym thynke, I may nother ete nor drynke, So full I ame of tene." Bot when the Sowdane this tythande herde, He bote his lippes and schoke his berde, That grymly was to see, And swore with hedouse contenance That he sulde hange the kynge of Frauncce And bryne alle Cristyanté, And that he sulde nother leve one lyve Man, beste, childe no wyfe, With eghene that he myghte see. "Dougheter," he said, "go to thi chambir And luke thou make full glade chere; Thow salle wele vengede be." Full richely was hir chambir sprede And thedir in was that lady lede With birdis that scho broghte. One softe seges was hir sete, Bot myghte scho nother drynke ne ete, So mekill scho was in thoghte Sumtyme one his faire chere, And one his coloure, and one his lyre; Scho myghte forgete hym noghte. Full stylle scho saide with hert sore, "Allas! that I ne with my lemane wore Whedir he wolde me hafe broghte." One hir bede righte als scho laye Scho callede unto hir a maye Full prevaly and stylle. That mayden highte Olyvayne That was full faire of blode and bane And moste wiste of hir wille. Scho saide, "Olyve, in prevaté My concelle I will schewe to the That greves me full ille, For one a childe es alle my thoghte That me to Paresche wolde hafe broghte, And I ne maye come hym tille!" Olyve hir answers tho And sais, "Lady, sen ye will so, Ne drede yow for no wyghte, For I sall helpe yow that I may, Bothe by nyghte and by day, That he wynn yow myghte. Yitt may swylke aventure be At youre wille ye may hym see Or this daye fowrtene nyghte, At the Monte Martyne I wolde ye were, There salle ye somewhate of hym here Whether he be sqwyere or knyghte." The Cristyn men than were full blythe When thay sawe Florent on lyfe; Thay wende he hade bene lorne. And when he come nere the ceté Agayne hym wente kynges thre, And the Emperoure rode byforne. And to the palayse the childe was broghte, Full riche atyre thay for hym soghte Of golde and sylver schene. Men callede hym Florent of Paresche, For thus in romance tolde it es, Thoghe he ther were noghte borne. And Clement, for the childes sake, Full faire to courte thay gan take And gaffe hym full riche wede. One softe seges was he sett Amonge grete lordes at the mete And servede of many riche brede. The childe was sett with grete honowre Bytwixe the kynge and the Emperoure, His mete thay gan hym schrede. He was so curtayse and so bolde That alle hym lovede, yonge and olde, For his doghety dede. Noghte longe after, als I yow saye, The childe solde be knyghte that other daye; No lenger wolde thay habyde. His atyre of golde was wroghte, Byfore the Emperoure the childe was broghte, A kyng one aythir syde. The kyng of Fraunce byfore hym yode With mynstralles full many and gode And lede hym up with pryde. Clement to the mynstralles gan go And gafe some a stroke and some two; There durste noghte one habyde. Clement so sorye was that daye For alle thaire costes that he solde paye, That he gane wepe wele sore. And whills the kynges dauwnsede in the halle Clement tuke thaire mantills alle And to his howse tham bare. Than the kynges gan thaire mantills myse And ilke man askede after his, Where thay bycomen were. Than swore Clement, "By Goddes daye, For youre mete moste ye paye Or ye gete tham no more." Thereatt all the kynges loghe, There was joye and gamen ynoghe Amonges tham in the haulle. The kynge of Fraunce with hert ful fayne Said, "Clement, brynge the mantils agayne, For I sall paye for alle." Clement thoreof was full blythe And home he rane als so swythe To his owen haulle; And to the palays he mantils bare And bade tham take tham alle thare And downe he lette tham falle. The burdes were sett and coverd alle, Childe Florent was broghte into the haulle With full mekill presse. The childe was sett with gret honowre Bytwixe the kyng and the Emperoure, Sothe withowtten lese. The Emperoure gan the childe byholde; He was so curtayse and so bolde, Bot he ne wiste what he was. And ever he thoghte in his mode The childe was comen of gentill blode. Hym thoghte righte, als it was. When the folke all had eten Clement hade noghte forgetyn, His purse he openede thore. Thritty florence forthe keste he And said, "Hafe here for my son and me, I may paye for no more." Clement was curtaise and wyse, He wend alle had bene marchandyse, The pryde that he sawe thore. At Clement loghe the knyghtes alle, So did the kynges in the haulle, Childe Florent schamede full sore. Than spekes the Emperoure anone ryghte To Florent, that was faire and bryghte, Wordis full wondir stille And said, "Yonge knyghte, telle thou me, If yone man thyn owen fadir be." The childe answerde hym till, "Sir, lufe hade I never hym too, Als I solde to my fadir doo, Never in herte ne wille; Bot of alle the men that ever sawe I, Moste lufes myn herte yowe sekirly. Syr, takes it to none ille." The Emperoure did calle Clement thore And made hym come and sytt hym nere Oppon the heghe dese. He bade hym telle the righte dome, How he to the childe come, Sothe withowtten lese. "Sir," he said, "this childe was taken in a foreste Fro a lady with a wylde beste In ane grete wildirnes; And I hym boghte for thritty pownde, Everylke peny bothe hole and rownde, And sayde myn owen he was." Than was the Emperoure joyefull and blythe, Of his tales for to lythe, And thanked God almyghte. The Emperoure felle one knes als swythe And kyssede the childe full fele sythe, Thoghe he ne wiste whate he highte, For full wele he trowede, withowtten lese, His owen sone that he was. Alle gamnes, bothe kyng and knyghte. The childes name was chaungede with dome, Thay callede hym than Florent of Rome Als it was full gude ryghte. The Emperoure was so blythe of chere That the teris trekelide one his lyre. He made than full grete care And said, "Allas, my faire wyfe, The beste lady that was one lyfe, Salle I hir see no mare? Me ware lever than alle the golde That ever was appon Cristyn molde, Wyste I one lyve scho ware!" The Emperoure gafe Clement welthis fele To lyfe in reches and in wele, Aye nowe for evermore. Als Florent one an nyghte in bede laye, He thoghte one Marsabele that faire maye, And full mekill he was in kare. The childe had nother riste ne ro For thoghte how he myghte com hir to, And whate that hym beste ware. The childe thoghte for the mayden sake A message that he wolde make And to the Sowdane fare. And sone the childe did sadill his stede And armede hym in full riche wede, A braunche of olyve he bare. For that was that tym messangere lawe 5 A brawnche of olyve for to schewe And it in hand to bere. For the ordynance than was so, Messangers solde savely come and go And no man solde tham dere. The childe takes the heghe waye To Cleremont thare the Sowdan laye With alle his grete here; And at the haulle dore he reyngened his stede And one fote in he yede, Messangere als he were. Than spekes the childe with hardy mode, Byfore the Sowdane there he stode, Als man of mekill myghte: "The kynge of Fraunce me hedir sende And byddis the owte of his lande wende, For thou werreys agayne the righte; Or he wille brynge agayne the Twentty thowsande tolde by thre With helmes and hawberkes bryghte. And ilke a knyghte sall thritty sqwyers hafe, And ilke a sqwyere a foteknave Worthe an heythen knyghte." Than the Sowdane bygane to speke, Als he satt at his riche mete Amonge his knyghttes kene: "The kynge of Fraunce welecome sall be; Ever agayne on I sall brynge thre, Weite he withowtten wene, That als fayne bene for to fyghte Als fowle es of dayes lyghte, To schewe thaire scheldes schene. To prove tomorowe, by my laye, I kepe to take no langere daye; Than salle the sothe be sene!" Than spekes that may with mylde mode To faire Florent thare he stode, That was so swete a wyghte: "Messenger, I wolde the frayne Whether he es knyghte or swayne, That es so mekill of myghte That hase my fadir geaunt slayne And wolde hafe ravesched me fra Borow Lerayne And slewe ther many a knyghte." Alle thoghe scho nevenede hym with ille, Fulle mekill was it than hir wille, Of hym to hafe a syghte. "Lady," he sayse, "he es nother lesse ne more, Than it I my selfe wore. Sythe ye will of hym frayne, Ye sall hym knawe thurgh alle the here, Youre sleve he wille hafe on his spere In the batelle al playne." Withowtten any more worde Ilke man stirte upe fro the borde With swerdes and knyves drawen; For alle thay wiste wele by than, That he it was, that ilke man That hade the geaunt slayne. Than Florent sawe no better bote Bot nedely hym tydes to fighte one fote6 Agayne the Sarazenes alle; And ever he hitt tham amange Where he sawe the gretteste thrange; Full many he did to falle. Sum by the armes he nome That the schuldir with hym come, The prowdeste in the haulle; And some he swilke a boxe lent That the heved fro the body went, Als it were a foteballe. And when his swerde broken was, A meteforme he gatt par cas And therewith he gan hym were; And to the grounde sone garte he go Ten score and somdele mo That heythen knyghtes were. Florent made a waye ful gode To his stede righte ther he stode, There myghte no man hym dere. And home he takes the righte waye Unto Parische als it laye, Thurgheowte the heythen here. Than were the Crysten folke full blythe When thay sawe Florent one lyve; Thay wende he lorne hade bene. And whenne he come nere the ceté, Agayne hym went kynges thre, The Emperoure rode bytwene. Alle the folke pressede hym to se. Ilke a man fraynede, "Whilke es he?" Als thay hym never hade sene. Unto the palese he was ledde; He tolde tham alle how he had spede Amonge the Sarazens kene. "Lordynges," he saide, "lukes ye be yare Unto the batelle for to fare, And redy for to ryde. Tomorowe moste it nede be sene Who es hardy man and kene, No lengere ne may we byde." The folke sayde that thay were blythe To wende to that batelle swythe - In herte es noghte to hide. A riche clothe one the borde was sprede To make the childe bothe blythe and glade, A kyng one aythir syde. One the morowe when the daye was lyghte, The folke tham to the batelle dyghte, Alle that wapen moghte welde. There men myghte se many a wyghte With helmes schene and hawberke bryghte, With spere and als with schelde. With trompes and with mekill pryde Full boldly owt of borowe thay ryde Unto a full brode felde. The felde was bothe longe and brode, Thore bothe the partyes one habode, And aythere other byhelde. Marsabele, that mayden fre, Was broghte that batelle for to see, To the Mont Martyne appon Seyne. Florent hir sleve did on his spere For in the batelle he wolde it bere, And forthe he rode in the playne For that men solde wele se than That he it was, that ilke man That haved the geaunt slayne, And also for that mayden free Was broghte that batelle for to see; There of scho was full fayne. Than was there mekill sorow and syte, When the batells bygan to smytte With many a grymly wonde. Fro morow that the daye was lyghte To it was even and dirke nyghte, Or owthir partye wolde fownde. Florent gan ever amonges ryde And made thore many a sory syde That ore was hale and sownde. So many folke thore to the dede yode That stedis wode in the blode That stremyd one the grounde. Thore men myghte see helmes bare And hevedis that full faire waree Full lawe to the grownde than lyghte. The Cristen men bycome so thyn That the felde myghte thay noghte wyn, Alle cryede, bothe kyng and knyghte. Than Florent smote with herte so gude, His swerde thurghe thaire helmes wode, So mekyll he was of myghte. Thurghe Goddes grace and Florent thore The Cristen men the better wore That ilke daye in the fyghte. The parties ere withdrawen awaye And taken there es another daye That the batelle sulde be. Florent rode to Borow Lerayne Besyde the water banke of Sayne, For aventurs wolde he see. The mayden whitt als lely floure Laye in a kirnelle of a towre, Was ferly faire and fre. Florent scho sawe on the felde fare; By hir sleve that he bare Scho knewe wele that it was he. Then spekes that may with mylde mode To Olyve that byfore hir stode That wyste hir prevaté, And saide, "Howe were it beste to do, A worde that I myghte speke hym to? Iwysse, than wele were me." Scho saide, "Lady, we one two By the rever banke sall go, That he may us see. If he yow lufe with hert gude, He lettes no thyng for the flode; A full gude horse haves he." Forthe than went theis maydenes two, Owte of the castelle gan thay goo By the revere syde. When Florent sawe that swete wyghte He sprent als any fowle of flyghte, No lenger then wolde he byde. His horse he was full wondir gude And bare hym smertly over the flode, Hymselffe couthe full wele ryde. It was grete joye to se tham mete With haulsynge and with kyssynge swete - In herte es noghte to hyde. "Lady," he sayde, "full wele es mee, A worde that I may speke with the, So bryghte ert thou of hewe. In alle this werlde es non so free Forwhi that thow wolde cristenede be And sythen of herte be trewe." "Sir, if that thou myghte me wyn, I wolde forsake all my kyn, Als I them never knewe. Sythen thou wolde wedde me to wyfe I wolde lyve in Cristen lyfe; My joye solde ever be newe." "Lady," he sayde, "withowtten fayle, Howe were than thi beste consaile, That I the wynn myghte?" "Sertes, ye me never wyn ne maye Bot if it were that ilke daye That ye hafe tane to fyghte, That ye wolde send up by the flode Men that bene styffe and gude, And a schippe that wele were dyghte, And ywhills the folke weren at thaire dede, That thay me myghte awaye lede Into youre ceté full ryghte. "My fadir has a nobille stede, In the werlde es none so gude at nede In tornament no in fyghte. In his hevede he hase an horne, Es schapen als an unycorne That selcouthe es of syghte. Sir, if you myghte that stede now wyn, There were no man in heythen kynn Agayne the that stande myghte." Florent kyssede that faire maye And sayd, "Lady, hafe gud daye And holde that thou hase highte." Florent hase his stede nomen And over that water es he comen, To Paresche he tuke the waye. He wolde neythir stynte ne blyn Bot home to Clement gan he wyn, His awntirs for to saye; And tolde hym of that gude stede That nobille was in ilke a nede, And of that faire maye. And he said, "Sone, be doghety man of dede, And certes thou sall hafe that stede Tomorowe, gyff that I maye." One the morne when the day was lyghte, Clement gan hymselven dyghte Lyke an unfrely fere And went into the heythen oste Thore the presse was althermoste, A Sarazene als he were. And to the paveleone he gan wynn There the Sowdan hymselfe was in. Full brymly he gan bere And askede tham sum of thaire mete. Full wele he couthe thaire speche speke; The Sowdane hymselfe gan here. Grete dole the Sowdane of hym thoghte, And sone he was byfore hym broghte And with hym gan he speke. He saide he was a Sarazene stronge And in his oste hade bene full longe And hade grete fawte of mete. "Sir, there es no man in heythen thede That better kane ryde and kepe a stede Or other horsses grete." The Sowdane saide that ilke tyde, "If that thou wele a stede kan ryde, With me thou sall be lette." Thay horsede Clement one a stede, He spronge als any sparke one glede Appone a full faire felde. Alle that stode on ilk a syde Hade joye to se Clement ryde Byfore the Sowdans telde. And when he hade reden courses thre Alle had joye that hym gan see, The Sowdan hym behelde. Clement lyghtede down full sone And one a better horse was done; Full faire he gan hym welde. Grete joye the Sowdan of hym thoghte And badde his owen stede solde be broghte And Clement one hym solde ryde. And when Clement was on that stede He rode awaye wele gud spede - No lengare he wold habyde. And when he was redy for to fownde, "Fare wele," he said, "heythen honde, For thou hase loste thi pryde." Clement tuke hym the heghe waye Unto Paresche als it laye, Full blythe he was that tydee. "Florent," he said, "whore art thou? That I the highte, I hafe here nowe, I hafe the broghte the stede." Florent was full blythe that daye, And saide, "Fadir, if that I maye, I salle the yelde thi mede. Bot to the Emperoure of Rome The stede I wolde were present sone; To the the palesse ye hym lede. For ever me thynke in my mode, That I ame comen of his blode, So proudly if I moghte spede." Than to the palays the stede was ledde, The knyghttes were than alle full glade, One hym for to see. The Emperour byfore tham stode And resceyvede hym with mylde mode, So wondir faire was hee. Florent spake with grete honour To his lorde the Emperour, "Sir, this stede gyffe I the." Alle that evir abowte him stode Sayde he was comen of gentull blode, It moghte nevir othirwis be. Aftur thys the day was nomyn That the batell on schulde comyn Agenste the Sarsyns to fyght. Wyth trompes and wyth moche pryde Boldely owte of borogh they ryde Als men of mekill myght. Florent thoghte on the feyre maye, To the batelle wente he not that day A schipe sone he hath hym dyght. Fro Mont Martrons there the lady lay To Paresche he broght hur away, Wist nother kynge ne knyght. That while was moche sorowe yn fyght When the batell began to smyght With many a grymme gare; Fro morowe that hyt was daylyght To it even was and myrke of nyght, Wyth wondes wondur sore. And for that Florent was not there The heythen folke the bettur were; The batelle thay venquyscht thore. Or Florent was to the felde comyn, The Emperoure and the kynge were ynomyn And the Crysten kynges all that were. Than Florent smote with herte so gode And rode thurgh tham als he were wode, Of witt als he wolde wede. Thore was no Sarazene of myghte ne mayne That myght with strenghe stande hym agayne, Whills that he hade his stede. Than was of Florent dole ynoghe, How thay his stede undir hym sloghe And he to the gronde than yode. Sir Florent was taken in that fyghte - Bothe the Emperoure, kynge and knyghte, Bownden thay gan thaym lede. The Sarsyns buskyd them wyth pryde Into ther own londys to ryde; They wolde no lenger dwelle. Takyn they had Syr Florawns, The Emperour and the kyng of Fraunce Wyth woundys wondur fele. Othur Crystyn kyngys moo, Dewkys, erlys and barons also, That arste were bolde and swelle. And ladd them wyth yron stronge Hur fete undur the hors wombe, Grete dele hyt ys to telle. Wyde the worde sprange of thys chawnce, How the Sowdon was yn Fraunce, To warre agenste the ryght. In Jerusalem men can hyt here, How the Emperour of Rome was there Wyth many an hardy knyght. Than spekyth Octavyon, the yyng, Full feyre to hys lorde, the kyng, As chylde of moche myght, "Lorde, yf hyt were yowre wylle, I wolde wynde my fadur tylle And helpe hym yn that fyght." Than spekyth the kyng of moche myght Full fayre unto that yong knyght, Sore hys herte can blede, "Sone, thou schalt take my knyghtes fele Of my londe that thou wylle wele That styffe are on stede, Into Fraunce wyth the to ryde, Wyth hors and armys be thy syde, To helpe the at nede. When thou some doghtynes haste done, Then may thou shewe thyn errande soone, The bettur may thou spede." He bad hys modur make hur yare, Into Fraunce wyth hym to fare, He wolde no lenger byde. Wyth hur she ladd the lyenas, That sche broght owt of wyldurnes, Rennyng be hur syde. There men myght see many a knyght With helmys and wyth hawberkys bryght Forthe ynto the strete. Forthe they went on a day, The hethyn ooste on the way All they can them meete. By the baners that they bare, They knewe that they hethyn ware And stylle they can abyde. They dyght them wyth brenyes bryght And made them redy for to fyght; Ageyn them can they ryde. They hewe the flesche fro the bone, Soche metyng was never none Wyth sorow on ylke syde. Octavyon the yong knyght, Thorow the grace of God almyght, Full faste he fellyd ther pryde. The lyenas that was so wyght, When she sawe the yong knyght Into the batell fownde, Sche folowed hym wyth all hur myght And faste fellyd the folke yn fyght; Many sche made onsownde. Grete stedys downe sche drowe And many hethen men sche slowe Wythynne a lytull stownde. Thorow God that ys of myghts gode, The Crysten men the bettur stode - The hethyn were broght to grownde. The Crysten prysoners were full fayne When the Sarsyns were yslayne, And cryed, "Lorde, thyn ore!" He ne stynt ne he ne blanne To the prysoners tyll that he wanne, To wete, what they were. The Emperour, wythowt lees, That hys own fadur was, Bowndon fownde he there. The kyng of Fraunce and odur moo, Dewkys, erlys and barons also, Were woundyd wondur sore. Hys fadur was the furste man, That he of bondys to lowse began, Ye wete, wythowten lees; And he lowsyd hys brodur Floraunce Or he dud the kynge of Fraunce, Yyt he wyste not what he was. Be that hys men were to hym comyn, Soon they were fro yrons nomyn, The pryncys prowde yn prees. Whan he had done that noble dede, The bettur he oght for to spede To make hys modur pees. A ryche cyté was besyde Boldely thedur can they ryde To a castell swythe. Ryche metys were thore dyghte, Kyngys, dewkys, erlys and knyghte, All were gladd and blythe. Syth came Octavyon the yong with grete honoure And knelyd before the Emperoure. Hys errande for to kythe. That ylke tale that he thore tolde, Ryche and pore, yong and olde, Glade thay were to lythe. He seyde, "Lorde, in this lande I hafe the soghte, My modir I hafe with me broghte, I come to make hir pese." The Emperoure was never so blythe, Als for to kysse the childe full swythe, And for his sone hym chese. "Lorde, for a lesesynge that was stronge, Scho was flemede owt of londe. I prove that it was lese." For joye that he his wiefe gan se, Seven sythes swonede he Byfore the heghe dese. Faire Florent than was full blythe, Of that tydandes for to lythe, His modir for to see. "Lorde," scho said, "for alle the noye that me was wroghte, Thyn on childe I hafe the broghte And yemede hym evir with me. Thyn othir sone in a foreste Was taken with a wilde beste; He was bothe faire and fre. Alle, I wote, es Goddes grace, I knowe hym by his faire face: That yone yong knyghte es he!" Than was thore full mekill gamen, With halsynge and with kyssyngez samen Into the chambir thay yode. And full grete joye there was also At the metyng of the brethir two, That doghety weren of dede. A riche feste the Emperour mad thare Of lordes, that were ferre and nere, And of many a londes lede. This tale whoso telles ryghte, The feste lastede a fourtenyghte, In romance thus we rede. Marsabele that faire maye Was after sent, the sothe to saye, To Paresche righte thore scho was. Cristenede scho was on a Sonondaye With joye and gamen and mekill playe; Florent to wyefe hir chese. Swylke a brydale als was thore, In that ceté was nevir ore, Ye wiete withowtten lese. Child Florent thore hir gan wedde, And into Rome was scho ledde With prynces prowde in prese. And then byfelle appon a daye, The Emperoure bygan for to saye And tolde alle how it was. And alle than gafe juggement, That his modir sulde be brynte In a belle of brasse. Als sonne als scho therof herde telle, In swonynge to the gronde scho felle, Hir hare of scho gan rase. For schame that scho was proved false, In two scho cutte hir owen halse With a longe anelase. And therat alle the kynges loghe, There was joye and gamen ynowghe; Alle tuke thaire leve that tyde. With trowmpes and with lowde songe Ilke a man wente to his owun londe With joye and mekill pryde. With gamen and joye and grete honoure To Rome than wente the Emperoure, His lady by his syde And his two sonnes also And with tham many one mo, Home than gan thay ryde. And thus endis Octovean, That in his tym was a doghety man, With the grace of Mary free, Now, Jhesu lorde, of heven kynge, Thou gyffe us alle thi dere blyssynge. Amen, amen, par charyté! Amen. |
Great; young; (see note) Listen tell true sayings If; while; listen to me as; is; (see note) Very; many times adventure (see note) valiant in clothes; (see note) widely known Every; fear on horseback together been games more (see note) govern approached old age face briar That was pleasing to behold Because by rights of inheritance became wet accomplished began to notice face she sighed She fell on her knees before her lord inquire thoughts; to And how your life fares know; earthly mate more embraced her wound together fated to die; hence go; (see note) don't know; shall But [shall] exist; war buried great a short time advise If; don't take it wrong have made; (see note) lady's (i.e., Mary's) give together; heir rule wisely had built begat male children went; there grew; pains noble (generous) Tidings Where message They didn't leave without gifts; (see note) To each he gave to; went for what He sent Early before made; priest; mass found didn't die in childbirth live inherited unknown Understand pleases Since cook's boy cleverness went To; went meanwhile had called; (see note) promised Where Before Hasten you quickly Secretly; prepared undressed sick; beset love (loyalty) went ordered drew; farther riches afraid went quickly; went Where believed truth almost insane dagger covered As vision; dream creature It seemed to her in a dense grove flying; shore brightly burning claws (see note) head; hair; seized started bloody great shriek then; fainting destroy Until; church should; (see note) among those people place Calabria lady's summon assembled pleasure went remained; together feast among fiddles Citoles; psaltery With all kinds of wealth in that dwelling gathering sorry in truth eighth Listen; hear Such; adventure this year discovered; such; (see note) judgment didn't know (see note) Outside; city death; burnt soon sorrow; pity outside coals gown death prepared grim countenance wept (see note) one prayer rule death; condemned to Every To; called out counsel; advise heaven's allowed christened Before; death fainting there face (see note) death banished her from gave florins; (see note) entrusted her to commanded; should places where; before into; strange terrain banished; gentle Each deserted handed over to her path follow; highway back woeful person; (see note) lost great marvelously cliffs wicked way grove spring; lovely; loud (babbling) arbor wept further; might not go grieved die I am utterly without shelter voice sorrowful lament pain food; ate made ready dark lodging next chirp its prey high if she running a lioness In a rage as if she would go crazy second child it bore though she faint Except since; certainly; (see note) harm went flying creature it was called; (see note) woods; gloomy though island; sea good or bad fortune; knew nothing fiercely As beast slew suckled nipples felt protect loved den always; she (the lioness) formerly; great remains child left lies that are contrived about me lost are; taken endure punishment never give myself took (see note) walked; shore saw high (see note) prepared offered An able; carried asked her to know But continually should pause rock then glad wait noon arm helmet; coat of mail began Sometimes embrace they (the men) high go ran as fast as she could meekly permitted went dared; near fear; crazed seized; pole ship; protect ship; took leapt; (see note) obstruct her afraid do harm hue dark was called dawn ebb tide; high tide realm come should stop recognized took asked sorrow injustice caused her to; (see note) to (do her) will (see note) age knew how to; wield Remained remained recover from Everybody; pleased Until she (see note) wood; gray (dark) path left soon caught up with the child did go ten great were Although the knight was fierce and bold person with difficulty grievously; struck vigorously; laughed should slay advise woe great profit ready saw citizen; Paris pilgrim; (see note) Villein; was called count out Florins keep him Before by my hood understand little about merchandizing do I lack offer gave he counted out for them basket he had made carry nurse citizens; happy toward pilgrim's mantle; clothing embraced to; own manor (see note) asked him for a true report How he came by the child quickly got leave make known to you many times reward keep Until; age the same clothing; (see note) had the child christened delayed was called realm Loved To them candlemaker; (see note) placed in charge of bridge butcher But he was by nature unsuited To follow that trade falcon offered countenance (see note) hurried flee [also] was eager He [Florent]; he [the squire] house Then he began; feathers preen taught; (see note) Thief gave you distress other food bird of prey; give groom thought it strange mercy Cease Unless; knew heart goods grieved; soul mercy Mary's learn [a trade] He may become a better man Than [if] did count purse went saw every battle reins bosses saw skin pennies valued at Too he counted out quickly grain comb; groom [So] that entrusted to me there mercy beat kinship (see note) war arrived shields withstand spirited made ready host dared was called heathen lands Montmartre Borough of the Queen; (see note) across combats was called faith mistreat (see note) cease to fight Provided that (the giant's name) Montmartre; (see note) rather dead ugly (foul); to look upon Beloved; quickly promised promise you truly head before gentle manner pleasing toe leaned bold; fierce overrun alive burn; slay barricade as soon as run fear; nearly insane risk Escaped; alive went (see note) barricade; lie (see note) fight out in the open; (see note) head; to my lover promised on that account overrun As dared always meanwhile buffet batter pitiful noise whither; ran come promised lovely ordained destroy and burn (see note) I only lack armor prepared If If you would not abide; (see note) evil a being (see note) try; endure more quickly desist; thrive Until I have ridden against him Since lend to you; time sun I'll stop complaining quickly; armed guarantee honor danger death; prepared nearly broke; (see note) padded jacket; (see note) coat of mail on top rusty indeed wear Sooty; dirty (see note) apparent would not scabbard came bench laughed lay unconscious ugly apparel bore (see note) head sooty prayed Give could do no more for him Because of; tarnished great; it seemed to them received he didn't care Laughed so hard Each; companion young knight shining corselet encounter club strong flew off (see note) became cheered up blow; fierce To provided for practices; learn does from a burning coal truth eager noble youth fared strengthen drew wroght grew cold fall it came about fell giant's; pulled off where; maiden head maiden's boards (tables) ready for dinner at her seat (see note) lover With what he had promised you head difficult ornament; (see note) recognized promise promised leaned; (see note) times took Although all the bridges were defended polished ready Her; tore off know Such grieved truth short time depart either hurt maiden; (see note) father's tent alighted times dias without lying (i.e., truly) would not be silent Dear rascal blow sustain from distress; (see note) news heard bit; shook; (see note) dreadful hideous burn alive eyes ladies On; seats deep expression face beloved were; (see note) Wherever bed maiden secretly; quietly was named fair in appearance (blood and bone) understood; desire secret young man If then since person such Before; fourteen hear (see note) alive thought; lost (killed) (see note) Towards attire bright wasn't born there seats feast food cut up (carved); (see note) next day delay went (see note) danced cloaks must laughed knew If; heart cast thought; merchandise (for sale) splendor laughed was ashamed should truly Sir, take no offense high dias explanation came by the child Truth; lies Every; whole (see note) hear many times was named believed rejoice duly face (see note) It would be dearer to me than ground [If] I knew she were alive many riches; bounty Always As rest nor peace maiden's (see note) decree safely should; harm army orders you out; (see note) war against justice multiplied foot-soldier Worthy to be against one [of the king's men] Wait; doubt eager bird; dawn bright shields law (faith) intend maiden ask you person of servile rank father's carried me off from referred to him in anger ask army visible table knew; (see note) same remedy throng made fall took blow gave (see note) bench; by chance defend caused somewhat more harm army thought; lost Towards in the middle Each; asked As if ready It is not to be concealed; (see note) for; prepared wield trumpets; much town on waited (see note) fixed that very man had glad distress; (see note) forces morning Until; evening; dark depart sore previously death went horses waded flowed were low; alight sparse went great are designated should lily embrasure wonderously go gentle heart Who knew; secret thoughts Indeed alone delays not at all on account of the water has creature leapt up quickly embracing; (see note) complexion noble If only then As if Since advice Surely arranged fitted out deeds (see note) nor head unicorn marvelous keep your promises taken stop nor cease did he go adventures; explain such a circumstance Son if prepare ugly companion heathen host Where; crowd; greatest go boldly; shout food; (see note) knew how; language to speak hear army lack land time allowed [to stay] (see note) every tent ridden set control remain set out dog prized possession time What I promised you give; reward presented (see note) (see note) set; (see note) pomp Knew sword won there Before captured As though he would lose his mind slew hastened many more previously; arrogant iron fetters Their feet; stomach heard it young go to many choose powerful reveal succeed ready lioness by fitted themselves; chain mail; (see note) cut meeting (i.e., battle) injured short time mercy neither stopped nor ceased know Bound others as well loose taken valiant in battle peace (reconciliation) make known listen (see note) chose lie; outrageous exiled a lie wife did swooned dais listen (see note) trouble own protected by hugging; as well [from] far people fortnight Sunday chose wedding before know; lie burnt; (see note) cauldron; (see note) she tore out (see note) neck dagger laughed trumpets (see note) |