King Horn ; Floriz and Blauncheflur ; The assumption of Our Lady / first edited in 1866 by J. Rawson Lumby ; and now re-edited from the MSS. with introduction notes, and glossary, by George H. McKnight.

King Horn ; Floriz and Blauncheflur ; The assumption of Our Lady / first edited in 1866 by J. Rawson Lumby ; and now re-edited from the MSS. with introduction notes, and glossary, by George H. McKnight. King Horn (Metrical romance) 138 pages, ca. 538 kb University of Michigan Library Ann Arbor, Michigan 2018 CME00050 02593311 ANU0301

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King Horn ; Floriz and Blauncheflur ; The assumption of Our Lady / first edited in 1866 by J. Rawson Lumby ; and now re-edited from the MSS. with introduction notes, and glossary, by George H. McKnight. King Horn (Metrical romance) Lumby, J. Rawson (Joseph Rawson), 1831-1895 McKnight, George Harley, 1871-1951. lviii, 171 p. ; 23 cm. London : Published for the Early English Text Society by the Oxford University Press, 1866, re-edited 1901. Early English Text Society (Series). Original series. 14

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50 CME00050 CME00050

Early English Text Society. Original Series, 14.

King Horn, Floriz and Blauncheflur, The Assumption of our Lady.

FIRST EDITED IN 1866 BY THE REV. J. RAWSON LUMBY, B.D., AND NOW RE-EDITED FROM THE MANUSCRIPTS, WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND GLOSSARY, BY GEORGE H. M^CKNIGHT, PH.D., OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY, U.S.A.

LONDON: PUBLISHED FOR THE EARLY ENGLISH TEXT SOCIETY BY KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & Co., PATERNOSTER HOUSE, CHARING-CROSS ROAD, W.C.

1866 (RE-EDITED 1901).

Price Five Shillings.

KING HORN. Cambr. Univ. MS. Gg. 4. 27. 2. Alle beon he bliþe Þat to my song lyþe, A sang ihc schal ȝou singe Of Murry þe kinge. King he was biweste So longe so hit laste. Godhild het his quen; Faire ne miȝte non ben. He hadde a sone þat het horn; Fairer ne miste non beo born, Ne no rein vpon birine, Ne sunne vpon bischine. Fairer nis non þane he was; He was briȝt so þe glas. He was whit so þe flur, Rose red was his colur. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] In none kinge riche Nas non his iliche. Twelf feren he hadde Þat alle wiþ him ladde, Alle riche mannes sones, And alle hi were faire gomes, Wiþ him for to pleie. And mest he luuede tweie; Þat on him het haþulf child, And þat oþer ffikenild. Aþulf was þe beste And fikenylde þe werste. Hit was vpon a someres day, Also ihc ȝou telle may, Murri þe gode king Rod on his pleing Bi þe se side, Ase he was woned ride. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He fond bi þe stronde, Ariued on his londe, Schipes fiftene, Wiþ sarazins kene. He axede what isoȝte Oþer to londe broȝte. A Payn hit of herde And hym wel sone answarede, "Þi lond folk we schulle slon And alle þat Crist luueþ vpon, And þe selue riȝt anon; Ne schaltu todai henne gon." Þe kyng aliȝte of his stede, For þo he hauede nede, And his gode kniȝtes two; Al to fewe he hadde þo. Swerd hi gunne gripe And to gadere smite. Hy smyten vnder schelde Þat sume hit yfelde. Þe king hadde al to fewe Toȝenes so vele schrewe. So fele miȝten yþe Bringe hem þre to diþe. ¶ Þe pains come to londe And neme hit in here honde. Þat folc hi gunne quelle And churchen for to felle. Þer ne moste libbe Þe fremde ne þe sibbe, Bute hi here laȝe asoke And to here toke. Of alle wymmanne Wurst was godhild þanne. For Murri heo weop sore And for horn ȝute more. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He wenten vt of halle, Fram hire Maidenes alle, Vnder a roche of stone. Þer heo liuede alone. Þer heo seruede gode, Aȝenes þe paynes forbode. Þer he seruede criste, Þat no payn hit ne wiste. Euere heo bad for horn child, Þat Iesu crist him beo myld. Horn was in paynes honde Wiþ his feren of þe londe. Muchel was his fairhede, For ihesu crist him makede. Payns him wolde slen Oþer al quic flen. Ȝef his fairnesse nere, Þe children alle aslaȝe were. Þanne spak on Admirad, Of wordes he was bald, "Horn, þu art wel kene, And þat is wel isene; Þu art gret and strong, fair and euene long. Þu schalt waxe more Bi fulle seue ȝere. Ȝef þu mote to liue go, And þine feren also, Ȝef hit so bi falle, Ȝe scholde slen vs alle. Þaruore þu most to stere, Þu and þine ifere. To schupe schulle ȝe funde And sinke to þe grunde. Þe se ȝou schal adrenche; Ne schal hit us noȝt of þinche. For if þu were aliue, Wiþ swerd oþer wiþ kniue We scholden alle deie, And þi fader deþ abeie." Þe children hi broȝte to stronde, Wringinde here honde, Into schupes borde At þe furste worde. Ofte hadde horn beo wo, At neure wurs þan him was þo. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe se bigan to flowe And hornchild to rowe. Þe se þat schup so faste drof, Þe children dradde þer of. Hi wenden to wisse Of here lif to misse, Al þe day and al þe niȝt, Til hit sprang dai liȝt. ¶ Til horn saȝ on þe stronde Men gon in þe londe. "Feren," quaþ he, "ȝonge, Ihc telle ȝou tiþinge. Ihc here foȝeles singe And þat gras him springe. Bliþe beo we on lyue, Vre schup is on ryue." Of schup hi gunne funde And setten fout to grunde. Bi þe se side Hi leten þat schup ride. Þanne spak him child horn, In suddene he was iborn, "Schup, bi þe se flode, Daies haue þu gode; Bi þe se brinke No water þe na drinke. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . .] Ȝef þu cume to Suddenne, Gret þu wel of myne kenne; Gret þu wel my moder, Godhild, quen þe gode. And seie þe paene kyng, Iesucristes wiþering, Þat ihc am hol and fer On þis lond ariued her. And seie þat hei schal fonde Þe dent of myne honde." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ./] Þe children ȝede to Tune Bi dales and bi dune. Hy metten wiþ almair king, Crist ȝeuen him his blessing, King of Westernesse, Crist ȝiue him Muchel blisse. He him spac to horn child Wordes þat were Mild, "Whannes beo ȝe, faire gumes, Þat her to londe beoþ icume, Alle þrottene Of bodie swiþe kene? Bigod þat me makede, A swihc fair verade Ne sauȝ ihc in none stunde Bi westene londe. Seie me wat ȝe seche." Horn spak here speche, He spak for hem alle, Vor so hit moste biualle. He was þe faireste And of wit þe beste. ¶ "We beoþ of Suddenne, Icome of gode kenne, Of Cristene blode And kynges suþe gode. Payns þer gunne ariue And duden hem of lyue. Hi sloȝen and to droȝe Cristenemen inoȝe. So crist me mote rede, Vs he dude lede In to a galeie, Wiþ þe se to pleie. Dai hit is igon and oþer Wiþute sail and roþer. Vre schip bigan to swymme To þis londes brymme. Nu þu miȝt vs slen, and binde Vre honde bihynde. Bute ȝef hit beo þi wille, Helpe þat we ne spille." ¶ Þanne spak þe gode kyng, I wis he nas no Niþing, "Seie me, child, what is þi name? Ne schaltu haue bute game." Þe child him answerde, Sone so he hit herde, "Horn ihc am ihote, Icomen vt of þe bote, Fram þe se side, Kyng, wel mote þe tide." Þanne hym spak þe gode king, "Wel bruc þu þin euening. Horn, þu go wel schulle Bi dales and bi hulle. Horn, þu lude sune Bi dales and bi dune. So schal þi name springe Fram kynge to kynge, And þi fairnesse Abute Westernesse, Þe strengþe of þine honde Into Eurech londe. Horn, þu art so swete Ne may ihc þe forlete." Hom rod Aylmar þe kyng, And horn mid him his fundyng And alle his ifere, Þat were him so dere. ¶ Þe kyng com in to halle Among his kniȝtes alle; Forþ he clupede aþelbrus, Þat was stiward of his hus. "Stiwarde, tak nu here Mi fundlyng for to lere Of þine mestere, Of wude and of riuere, [No gap in MS . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] And tech him to harpe Wiþ his nayles scharpe, Biuore me to kerue And of þe cupe serue. Þu tech him of alle þe liste Þat þu eure of wiste. In his feiren þou wise In to oþere seruise. Horn þu vnderuonge And tech him of harpe and songe." ¶ Ailbrus gan lere Horn and his yfere. Horn in herte laȝte Al þat he him taȝte. In þe curt and vte, And elles al abute, Luuede men horn child; And mest him louede Rymenhild, Þe kynges oȝene dofter. He was mest in þoȝte. Heo louede so horn child, Þat neȝ heo gan wexe wild; For heo ne miȝte at borde Wiþ him speke no worde, Ne noȝt in þe halle Among þe kniȝtes alle, Ne nowhar in non oþere stede, Of folk heo hadde drede, Bi daie ne bi niȝte, Wiþ him speke ne miȝte. Hire soreȝe ne hire pine Ne miȝte neure fine. In heorte heo hadde wo, And þus hire biþoȝte þo. Heo sende hire sonde Aþelbrus to honde, Þat he come hire to, And also scholde horn do Al in to bure, ffor heo gan to lure. And þe sonde seide Þat sik lai þat maide, And bad him come swiþe For heo nas noþing bliþe. Þe stuard was in herte wo, For he nuste what to do. Wat Rymenhild hure þoȝte, Gret wunder him þuȝte. Abute horn þe ȝonge To bure for to bringe, He þoȝte upon his mode Hit nas for none gode. He tok him anoþer, Athulf, hornes broþer. ¶ "Aþulf," he sede, "riȝt anon Þu schalt wiþ me to bure gon, To speke wiþ Rymenhild stille And witen hure wille. In hornes ilike Þu schalt hure biswike. Sore ihc me ofdrede He wolde horn misrede." Aþelbrus gan Aþulf lede And in to bure wiþ him ȝede. Anon vpon Aþulf child Rymenhild gan wexe wild. He wende þat horn hit were Þat heo hauede þere. Heo sette him on bedde, Wiþ Aþulf child he wedde. On hire armes tweie Aþulf heo gan leie. "Horn," quaþ heo, "wel longe Ihc habbe þe luued stronge. Þu schalt þi trewþe pliȝte On myn hond her riȝte, Me to spuse holde, And ihc þe lord to wolde." ¶ Aþulf sede on hire ire, So stille so hit were, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] "Þi tale nu þu lynne, For horn nis noȝt her inne. Ne beo we noȝt iliche, Horn is fairer and riche, Fairer bi one ribbe Þane eni Man þat libbe. Þeȝ horn were vnder Molde, Oþer elles wher he wolde, Oþer henne a þusend Mile, Ihc nolde him ne þe bigile." ¶ Rymenhild hire biwente, And Aþelbrus fule heo schente. "Hennes þu go, þu fule þeof, Ne wurstu me neure more leof. Went vt of my bur, Wiþ muchel mesauenteur. Schame mote þu fonge And on hiȝe rode anhonge. Ne spek ihc noȝt wiþ horn, Nis he noȝt so vnorn. Hor[n] is fairer þane beo he, Wiþ muchel schame mote þu deie." ¶ Aþelbrus in a stunde Fel anon to grunde. "Lefdi, Min oȝe, Liþe me a litel þroȝe. Lust whi ihc wonde Bringe þe horn to honde. For horn is fair and riche, Nis no whar his iliche. Aylmar, þe gode kyng, Dude him on mi lokyng. Ȝef horn were her abute, Sore y me dute Wiþ him ȝe wolden pleie Bitwex ȝou selue tweie. Þanne scholde wiþuten oþe Þe kyng maken vs wroþe. Rymenhild, forȝef me þi tene, Lefdi, my quene, And horn ihc schal þe fecche, Wham so hit recche." ¶ Rymenhild, ȝef he cuþe, Gan lynne wiþ hire Muþe. Heo makede hire wel bliþe Wel was hire þat siþe. "Go nu," quaþ heo, "sone, And send him after none Whane þe kyng arise, On a squieres wise. To wude for to pleie. Nis non þat him biwreie; He schal wiþ me bileue Til hit beo nir eue, To hauen of him mi wille. After ne recchecche what me telle." ¶ Aylbrus wende hire fro; Horn in halle fond he þo, Bifore þe kyng on benche, Wyn for to schenche. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] "Horn," quaþ he, "so hende, To bure nu þu wende, After mete stille, Wiþ Rymenhild to duelle. Wordes suþe bolde In herte þu hem holde. Horn, beo me wel trewe; Ne schal hit þe neure rewe." Horn in herte leide Al þat he him seide. He ȝeode in wel riȝte To Rymenhild þe briȝte. On knes he him sette, And sweteliche hure grette. Of his feire siȝte Al þe bur gan liȝte. He spac faire speche; Ne dorte him noman teche. "Wel þu sitte and softe, Rymenhild þe briȝte, Wiþ þine Maidenes sixe Þat þe sitteþ nixte. Kinges stuard vre Sende me in to bure. Wiþ þe speke ihc scholde; Seie me what þu woldest. Seie, and ich schal here, What þi wille were." ¶ Rymenhild vp gan stonde And tok him bi þe honde. Heo sette him on pelle, Of wyn to drinke his fulle. Heo makede him faire chere And tok him abute þe swere. Ofte heo him custe, So wel so hire luste. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] "Horn," heo sede, "wiþute strif Þu schalt haue me to þi wif. Horn, haue of me rewþe, And plist me þi trewþe." ¶ Horn þo him biþoȝte What he speke miȝte. "Crist," quaþ he, "þe wisse, And ȝiue þe heuene blisse Of þine husebonde, Wher he beo in londe; Ihc am ibore to lowe Such wimman to knowe. Ihc am icome of þralle, And fundling bifalle. Ne feolle hit þe of cunde To spuse beo me bunde. Hit nere no fair wedding Bitwexe a þral and a king." ¶ Þo gan Rymenhild mis lyke, And sore gan to sike. Armes heo gan buȝe; Adun he feol iswoȝe. ¶ Horn in herte was ful wo, And tok hire on his armes two. He gan hire for to kesse, Wel ofte mid ywisse. "Lemman," he sede, "dere, Þin herte nu þu stere. Help me to kniȝte, Bi al þine miȝte To my lord þe king, Þat he me ȝiue dubbing. Þanne is mi þralhod Iwent in to kniȝthod, And i schal wexe more, And do, lemman, þi lore." ¶ Rymenhild, þat swete þing, Wakede of hire swoȝning. "Horn," quaþ heo, "vel sone Þat schal beon idone. Þu schalt beo dubbed kniȝt Are come seue niȝt. Haue her þis cuppe, And þis Ring þer vppe, To Aylbrus and stuard, And se he holde foreward. Seie ich him biseche, Wiþ loueliche speche, Þat he adun falle Bifore þe king in halle, And bidde þe king ariȝte Dubbe þe to kniȝte. Wiþ seluer and wiþ golde Hit wurþ him wel iȝolde. Crist him lene spede Þin erende to bede." ¶ Horn tok his leue, For hit was neȝ eue. Aþelbrus he soȝte And ȝaf him þat he broȝte, And tolde him ful ȝare Hu he hadde ifare, And sede him his nede, And bihet him his mede. ¶ Aþelbrus also swiþe Wente to halle bliue. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] "Kyng," he sede, "þu leste A tale mid þe beste. Þu schalt bere crune Tomoreȝe in þis tune. Tomoreȝe is þi feste; Þer bihoueþ geste. Hit nere noȝt for loren For to kniȝti child horn Þine armes for to welde; God kniȝt he schal ȝelde." ¶ Þe king sede sone, "Þat is wel idone. Horn me wel iquemeþ; God kniȝt him bisemeþ. He schal haue mi dubbing And afterward mi derling. And alle his feren twelf He schal kniȝten him self. Alle he schal hem kniȝte Bifore me þis niȝte." Til þe liȝt of day sprang Ailmar him þuȝte lang. Þe day bigan to springe, Horn com biuore þe kinge, Mid his twelf yfere; Sume hi were luþere. Horn he dubbede to kniȝte Wiþ swerd and spures briȝte. He sette him on a stede whit; Þernas no kniȝt hym ilik. He smot him alitel wiȝt And bed him beon a god kniȝt. ¶ Aþulf fel a knes þar Biuore þe king Aylmar. "King," he sede, "so kene, Grante me a bene. Nu is kniȝ[t] sire horn Þat in suddenne was iboren. Lord he is of londe, Ouer us þat bi him stonde. Þin armes he haþ and scheld, To fiȝte wiþ vpon þe feld. Let him vs alle kniȝte, For þat is vre riȝte." ¶ Aylmar sede sone ywis, "Do nu þat þi wille is." Horn adun liȝte And makede hem alle kniȝtes. Murie was þe feste, Al of faire gestes. Ac Rymenhild nas noȝt þer, And þat hire þuȝte seue ȝer. After horn heo sente, And he to bure wente. Nolde he noȝt go one; Aþulf was his mone. Rymenhild on flore stod, Hornes come hire þuȝte god, And sede, "Welcome, sire horn, And Aþulf, kniȝt þe biforn. Kniȝt, nu is þi time For to sitte bi me. Do nu þat þu er of spake, To þi wif þume take. Ef þu art trewe of dedes, Do nu ase þu sedes. Nu þu hast wille þine, Vnbind me of my pine." ¶ "Rymenhild," quaþ he, "beo stille; Ihc wulle don al þi wille. Also hit mot bitide, Mid spere ischal furst ride, And mi kniȝthod proue, Ar ihc þe ginne to woȝe. We beþ kniȝtes ȝonge, Of o dai al isprunge, And of vre mestere So is þe manere, Wiþ sume oþere kniȝte Wel for his lemman fiȝte, Or he eni wif take; For þi me stondeþ þe more rape. Today, so crist me blesse, Ihc wulle do pruesse For þi luue in þe felde, Mid spere and mid schelde. If ihc come te lyue, Ihc schal þe take to wyue." ¶ "Kniȝt," quaþ heo, "trewe, Ihc wene ihc mai þe leue. Tak nu her þis gold ring, God him is þe dubbing. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þer is vpon þe ringe Igraue, 'Rymenhild þe ȝonge.' Þer nis non betere anonder sunne, Þat eni man of telle cunne. For my luue þu hit were, And on þi finger þu him bere. Þe stones beoþ of suche grace, Þat þu ne schalt in none place Of none duntes beon ofdrad, Ne on bataille beon amad, Ef þu loke þeran And þenke vpon þi lemman. ¶ And sire Aþulf, þi broþer, He schal haue anoþer. Horn ihc þe biseche Wiþ loueliche speche, Crist ȝeue god erndinge, Þe aȝen to bringe." ¶ Þe kniȝt hire gan kesse, And heo him to blesse. Leue at hire he nam And in to halle cam. Þe kniȝtes ȝeden to table, And horne ȝede to stable. Þar he tok his gode fole, Also blak so eny cole. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe fole schok þe brunie, Þat al þe curt gan denie. Þe fole bigan to springe, And horn murie to singe. Horn rod in a while More þan a myle. He fond o schup stonde Wiþ heþene honde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He axede what hi soȝte, Oþer to londe broȝte. ¶ An hund him gan bihelde Þat spac wordes belde, "Þis lond we wulleȝ wynne, And sle þat þer is inne." Horn gan his swerd gripe And on his arme wype. Þe sarazins he smatte, Þat his blod hatte. At eureche dunte Þe heued of wente. Þo genne þe hundes gone, Abute horn al one. He lokede on þe ringe, And þoȝte on rimenilde. He sloȝ þer on haste On hundred bi þe laste. Ne miȝte noman telle Þat folc þat he gan quelle. Of alle þat were aliue Ne miȝte þer non þriue. Horn tok þe maisteres heued, Þat he hadde him bireued, And sette hit on his swerde, Anouen at þan orde. He verde hom in to halle, Among þe kniȝtes alle. "Kyng," he sede, "wel þu sitte, And alle þine kniȝtes mitte. To day, after mi dubbing, So irod on mi pleing, I fond o schup Rowe, Þo hit gan to flowe, Al wiþ sarazines kyn, And none londisse Men. To dai, for to pine Þe and alle þine. Hi gonne me assaille. Mi swerd me nolde faille; I smot hem alle to grunde, Oþer ȝaf hem diþes wunde. Þat heued iþe bringe Of þe maister kinge. Nu is þi wile iȝolde, King, þat þu me kniȝti woldest." A Moreȝe þo þe day gan springe, Þe king him rod an huntinge. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] At hom lefte ffikenhild, Þat was þe wurste moder child. Heo ferde in to bure, To sen auenture. Heo saȝ Rymenild sitte Also he were of witte. Heo sat on þe sunne, Wiþ tieres al birunne. Horn sede, "lef þinore, Wi wepestu so sore?" Heo sede, "noȝt ine wepe; Bute ase ilay aslepe, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] To þe se my net icaste, And hit nolde noȝt ilaste. A gret fiss at þe furste, Mi net he gan to berste. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Ihc wene þat ihc schal leose Þe fiss þat ihc wolde cheose." ¶ "Crist," quaþ horn, "and seint steuene, Turne þine sweuene. Ne schal iþe biswike, Ne do þat þe mislike. I schal me make þinowe, To holden and to knowe, For eurech oþere wiȝte; And þarto mi treuþe iþe pliȝte." Muchel was þe ruþe Þat was at þare truþe, For Rymenhild weop ille, And horn let þe tires stille. "Lemman," quaþ he, "dere, Þu schalt more ihere. Þi sweuen schal wende, Oþer sum Man schal vs schende. Þe fiss þat brak þe lyne, Ywis he doþ us pine. Þat schal don vs tene And wurþ wel sone isene." ¶ Aylmar rod bi sture, And horn lai in bure. Fykenhild hadde enuye And sede þes folye:— "Aylmar, ihc þe warne, Horn þe wule berne. Ihc herde whar he sede, And his swerd forþ leide, To bringe þe of lyue, And take Rymenhild to wyue. He liþ in bure, Vnder couerture, By Rymenhild, þi doȝter; And so he doþ wel ofte. And þider þu go al riȝt; Þer þu him finde miȝt. Þu do him vt of londe, Oþer he doþ þe schonde." ¶ Aylmar aȝen gan turne, Wel Modi and wel Murne. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He fond horn in arme, On Rymenhilde barme. "Awei vt," he sede, "fule þeof, Ne wurstu me neuremore leof. Wend vt of my bure, Wiþ muchel messauenture. Wel sone bute þu flitte, Wiþ swerde ihc þe anhitte. Wend ut of my londe, Oþer þu schalt haue schonde." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] ¶ Horn sadelede his stede, And his armes he gan sprede. His brunie he gan lace, So he scholde, in to place. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] His swerd he gan fonge; Nabod he noȝt to longe. He ȝede forþ bliue To Rymenhild his wyue. He sede, "lemman, derling, Nu hauestu þi sweuening. Þe fiss þat þi net rente, Fram þe he me sente. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Rymenhild, haue wel godne day, No leng abiden ine may. In to vncuþe londe, Wel more for to fonde. I schal wune þere Fulle seue ȝere. At seue ȝeres ende, Ȝef ine come ne sende, Tak þe husebonde, ffor me þu ne wonde. In armes þu me fonge, And kes me wel longe." He custe him wel a stunde, And Rymenhild feol to grunde. Horn tok his leue; Ne miȝte he no leng bileue. He tok Aþulf, his fere, Al abute þe swere, And sede, "kniȝt so trewe, Kep wel mi luue newe. Þu neure me ne forsoke, Rymenhild þu kep and loke." His stede he gan bistride, And forþ he gan ride. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] To þe hauene he ferde, And a god schup he hurede, Þat him scholde londe In westene londe. ¶ Aþulf weop wiþ iȝe, And al þat him isiȝe. To lond he him sette, And fot on stirop sette. He fond bi þe weie, Kynges sones tweie; Þat on him het harild, And þat oþer berild. Berild gan him preie Þat he scholde him seie What his name were, And what he wolde þere. "Cutberd," he sede, "ihc hote, Icomen vt of þe bote, Wel feor fram biweste, To seche mine beste." Berild gan him nier ride, And tok him bi þe bridel. "Wel beo þu, kniȝt, ifounde; Wiþ me þu lef a stunde. Also mote i sterue, Þe king þu schalt serue. Ne saȝ i neure my lyue So fair kniȝt aryue." Cutberd heo ladde in to halle, And he a kne gan falle. He sette him a knewelyng, And grette wel þe gode kyng. Þanne sede Berild sone, "Sire king, of him þu hast to done. Bitak him þi lond to werie; Ne schat hit noman derie, For he is þe faireste man Þat eureȝut on þi londe cam." ¶ Þanne sede þe king so dere, "Welcome beo þu here. Go nu, Berild, swiþe, And make him ful bliþe. And whan þu farst to woȝe, Tak him þine gloue. Iment þu hauest to wyue, Awai he schal þe dryue; For Cutberdes fairhede Ne schal þe neure wel spede." HIt was at Cristesmasse, Neiþer more ne lasse, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þer cam in at none, A Geaunt suþe sone, Iarmed fram paynyme, And seide þes ryme:— "Site stille, sire kyng, And herkne þis tyþyng. Her buþ paens ariued, Wel mo þane fiue. Her beoþ on þe sonde, King, vpon þi londe. On of hem wile fiȝte Aȝen þre kniȝtes. Ȝef oþer þre slen vre, Al þis lond beo ȝoure; Ȝef vre on ouercomeþ ȝour þreo, Al þis lond schal vre beo. Tomoreȝe be þe fiȝtinge, Whan þe liȝt of daye springe." ¶ Þanne sede þe kyng þurston, "Cutberd schal beo þat on; Berild schal beo þat oþer; Þe þridde, Alrid, his broþer. For hi beoþ þe strengeste, And of armes þe beste. Bute what schal vs to rede? Ihc wene we beþ alle dede." ¶ Cutberd sat at borde, And sede þes wordes:— "Sire king, hit nis no riȝte, On wiþ þre to fiȝte; Aȝen one hunde, Þre cristen men to fonde. Sire, ischal al one, Wiþute more ymone, Wiþ mi swerd wel eþe Bringe hem þre to deþe." ¶ Þe kyng aros amoreȝe, Þat hadde muchel sorȝe; And Cutberd ros of bedde, Wiþ armes he him schredde. Horn his brunie gan on caste, And lacede hit wel faste, And cam to þe kinge, At his vp risinge. "King," he sede, "cum to fel[de], For to bihelde Hu we fiȝte schulle, And togare go wulle." Riȝt at prime tide, Hi gunnen ut ride, And funden on a grene, A geaunt suþe kene, His feren him biside, Hore deþ to abide. ¶ Þeilke bataille Cutberd gan assaille. He ȝaf dentes inoȝe; Þe kniȝtes felle iswoȝe. His dent he gan wiþdraȝe, For hi were neȝ aslaȝe. And sede, "kniȝtes, nu ȝe reste One while, ef ȝou leste." Hi sede, "hi neure nadde Of kniȝte dentes so harde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He was of hornes kunne, Iborn in suddenne." ¶ Horn him gan to agrise, And his blod arise. Biuo him saȝ he stonde Þat driuen him of londe, And þat his fader sloȝ. To him his swerd he droȝ. He lokede on his rynge, And þoȝte on Rymenhilde. He smot him þureȝ þe herte, Þat sore him gan to smerte. Þe paens þat er were to sturne, Hi gunne awei vrne. Horn and his compaynye Gunne after hem wel swiþe hiȝe, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And sloȝen alle þe hundes, Er hi here schipes funde. To deþe he hem alle broȝte; His fader deþ wel dere hi boȝte. Of alle þe kynges kniȝtes, Ne scapede þer no wiȝte. Bute his sones tweie Bifore him he saȝ deie. Þe king bigan to grete, And teres for to lete. Me leiden hem in bare, And burden hem ful ȝare. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] ¶ Þe king com in to halle, Among his kniȝtes alle. "Horn," he sede, "i seie þe, Do as i schal rede þe. Aslaȝen beþ mine heirs, And þu art kniȝt of muchel pris, And of grete strengþe, And fair o bodie lengþe. MiRengne þu schalt welde, And to spuse helde Reynild, mi doȝter, Þat sitteþ on þe lofte." ¶ "O sire king, wiþ wronge Scholte ihc hit vnderfonge. Þi doȝter þat ȝe me bede, Ower rengne for to lede. Welmore ihc schal þe serue, Sire kyng, or þu sterue. Þi sorwe schal wende Or seue ȝeres ende. Wanne hit is wente, Sire king, ȝef me mi rente. Whanne i þi doȝter ȝerne, Ne schaltu me hire werne." Cutberd wonede þere Fulle seue ȝere, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þat to Rymenild he ne sente, Ne him self ne wente. Rymenild was in Westernesse, Wiþ wel muchel sorinesse. ¶ A king þer gan ariue Þat wolde hire haue to wyue. Aton he was wiþ þe king, Of þat ilke wedding. Þe daies were schorte, Þat Riminhild ne dorste Leten in none wise. A writ he dude deuise; Aþulf hit dude write, Þat horn ne luuede noȝt lite. Heo sende hire sonde To euereche londe, To seche horn, þe kniȝt, Þer me him finde miȝte. Horn noȝt þer of ne herde, Til, o dai þat he ferde To wude for to schete, A knaue he gan imete. Horn seden, "Leue fere, Wat sechestu here?" "Kniȝt, if beo þi wille, I mai þe sone telle. I seche fram biweste, Horn of westernesse, For a Maiden Rymenhild Þat for him gan wexe wild. A king hire wile wedde, And bringe to his bedde, King Modi of Reynes, On of hornes enemis. Ihc habbe walke wide Bi þe se side, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Nis he no war ifunde, Walawai þe stunde. Wailaway þe while, Nu wurþ Rymenild bigiled." Horn iherde wiþ his ires, And spak wiþ bidere tires, "Knaue, wel þe bitide, Horn stondeþ þe biside. Aȝen to hure þu turne, And seie þat heo ne murne, For ischal beo þer bitime, A soneday bi pryme." Þe knaue was wel bliþe, And hiȝede aȝen bliue. Þe se bigan to þroȝe Vnder hire woȝe. Þe knaue þer gan adrinke; Rymenhild hit miȝte of þinke. Rymenhild vndude þe dure pin Of þe hus þer heo was in, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] To loke wiþ hire iȝe, If heo oȝt of horn isiȝe. Þo fond heo þe knaue adrent Þat he hadde for horn isent, And þat scholde horn bringe; Hire fingres he gan wringe. ¶ Horn cam to þurston þe kyng, And tolde him þis tiþing. Þo he was iknowe Þat Rimenh[ild] was hise oȝe, Of his gode kenne, Þe king of suddenne, And hu he sloȝ in felde Þat his fader quelde, And seide, "king þe wise, Ȝeld me mi seruise. Rymenhild help me winne; Þat þu noȝt ne linne, And ischal do to spuse Þi doȝter wel to huse. Heo schal to spuse haue Aþulf, mi gode felaȝe, God kniȝt mid þe beste, And þe treweste." Þe king sede so stille, "Horn, haue nu þi wille." He dude writes sende Into yrlonde, After kniȝtes liȝte, Irisse men to fiȝte. To horn come inoȝe, Þat to schupe droȝe. Horn dude him in þe weie, On a god Galeie. Þe him gan to blowe In alitel þroȝe. Þe se bigan to posse Riȝt in to Westernesse. Hi strike seil and maste, And Ankere gunne caste, Or eny day was sprunge Oþer belle irunge. Þe word bigan to springe Of Rymenhilde weddinge. Horn was in þe watere; Ne miȝte he come no latere. He let his schup stonde, And ȝede to londe. His folk he dude abide Vnder wude side. Hor[n] him ȝede alone, also he sprunge of stone. A palmere he þar mette, And faire hine grette. "Palmere, þu schalt me telle Al of þine spelle." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He sede vpon his tale, "I come fram o brudale, Ihc was at o wedding Of a Maide Rymenhild. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Ne miȝte heo adriȝe Þat heo ne weop wiþ iȝe. Heo sede þat 'heo nolde Ben ispused wiþ golde; Heo hadde on husebonde, Þeȝ he were vt of londe.' And in strong halle, Biþinne castel walle, Þer iwas atte ȝate; Nolde hi me in late. Modi ihote hadde To bure þat me hire ladde. Awai igan glide; Þat deol inolde abide. Þe bride wepeþ sore, And þat is muche deole!" ¶ Quaþ horn, "So crist me rede, We schulle chaungi wede. Haue her cloþes myne, And tak me þi sclauyne. Today i schal þer drinke, Þat some hit schulle ofþinke." His sclauyn he dude dun legge, And tok hit on his rigge. He tok horn his cloþes, Þat nere him noȝt loþe. Horn tok burdon and scrippe, And wrong his lippe. He makede him a ful chere, And al bicolmede his swere. He makede him vn bicomelich; Hes he nas neuremore ilich. ¶ He com to þe gateward, Þat him answerede hard. Horn bad undo softe, Mani tyme and ofte. Ne miȝte he awynne Þat he come þerinne. Horn gan to þe ȝate turne, And þat wiket vnspurne. Þe boye hit scholde abugge; Horn þreu him ouer þe brigge, Þat his ribbes him to brake; And suþþe com in atte gate. He sette him wel loȝe, In beggeres rowe. He lokede him abute, Wiþ his colmie snute. He seȝ Rymenhild sitte Ase heo were of witte, Sore wepinge and ȝerne; Ne miȝte hure noman wurne. He lokede in eche halke; Ne seȝ he nowhar walke Aþulf his felawe, Þat he cuþe knowe. Aþulf was in þe ture, Abute for to pure After his comynge, Ȝef schup him wolde bringe. He seȝ þe se flowe, And horn nowar rowe. He sede vpon his songe, "Horn, nu þu ert wel longe. Rymenhild þu me toke, Þat i scholde loke. Ihc habbe kept hure eure; Com nu oþer neure. I ne may no leng hure kepe; For soreȝe nu y wepe." ¶ Rymenhild Ros of benche, Wyn for to schenche, After mete in sale, Boþe wyn and ale. On horn he bar anhonde, So laȝe was in londe. Kniȝtes and squier Alle dronken of þe ber; Bute horn al one Nadde þerof no mone. Horn sat vpon þe grunde; Him þuȝte he was ibunde. He sede, "quen so hende, To meward þu wende. Þu ȝef vs wiþ þe furste; Þe beggeres beoþ of þurste." ¶ Hure horn heo leide adun, And fulde him of a brun, His bolle of a galun, For heo wende he were a glotoun. He seide, "haue þis cuppe, And þis þing þer vppe. Ne saȝ ihc neure, so ihc wene, Beggere þat were so kene." Horn tok hit his ifere, And sede, "quen so dere, Wyn nelle ihc, Muche ne lite, Bute of cuppe white. Þu wenest i beo a beggere, And ihc am a fissere, Wel feor icome bi este, For fissen at þi feste. Mi net liþ her bi honde, Bi a wel fair stronde. Hit haþ ileie þere Fulle seue ȝere. Ihc am icome to loke Ef eni fiss hit toke. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Ihc am icome to fisse; Drink to me of disse. Drink to horn of horne, Feor ihc am i orne." Rymenhild him gan bihelde; Hire heorte bigan to chelde. Ne kneu heo noȝt his fissing, Ne horn hymselue noþing; Ac wunder hire gan þinke, Whi he bad to horn drinke. Heo fulde hire horn wiþ wyn, And dronk to þe pilegrym. Heo sede, "drink þi fulle, And suþþe þu me telle If þu eure isiȝe Horn vnder wude liȝe." Horn dronk of horn a stunde, And þreu þe ring to grunde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe quen ȝede to bure, Wiþ hire maidenes foure. Þo fond heo what heo wolde, A ring igrauen of golde, Þat horn of hure hadde. Sore hure dradde Þat horn isteue were, For þe Ring was þere. Þo sente heo a damesele After þe palmere. "Palmere," quaþ heo, "trewe, Þe ring þat þu þrewe, Þu seie whar þu hit nome, And whi þu hider come." He sede, "bi seint gile, Ihc habbe go mani Mile, Wel feor bi ȝonde weste, To seche my beste. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] I fond horn child stonde, To schupeward in londe. He sede he wolde agesse to ariue in westernesse. Þe schip nam to þe flode, Wiþ me and horn þe gode. Horn was sik and deide, And faire he me preide, 'Go wiþ þe ringe, To Rymenhild þe ȝonge.' Ofte he hit custe, God ȝeue his saule reste." ¶ Rymenhild sede at þe furste, "Herte, nu þu berste, For horn nastu namore, Þat þe haþ pined þe so sore." Heo feol on hire bedde Þer heo knif hudde, To sle wiþ king loþe, And hure selue boþe, In þat vlke niȝte, If horn come ne miȝte. To herte knif he sette; Ac horn anon hire kepte. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He wipede þat blake of his swere, And sede, "Quen so swete and dere, Ihc am horn þinoȝe; Ne canstu me noȝt knowe? Ihc am horn of westernesse; In armes þu me cusse." Hi custe hem mid ywisse, And makeden Muche blisse. ¶ "Rymenhild," he sede, "ywende Adun to þe wudes ende. Þer beþ myne kniȝtes, Redi to fiȝte, Iarmed vnder cloþe. Hi schulle make wroþe Þe king and his geste Þat come to þe feste. Today i schal hem teche, And sore hem areche." ¶ Horn sprong ut of halle, And let his sclauin falle. Þe quen ȝede to bure, And fond Aþulf in ture. "Aþulf," heo sede, "be bliþe, And to horn þu go wel swiþe. He is vnder wude boȝe, And wiþ him kniȝtes Inoȝe." ¶ Aþulf bigan to springe For þe tiþinge. After horn he arnde anon, Also þat hors miȝte gon. He him ouertok ywis; Hi makede suiþe Muchel blis. Horn tok his preie, And dude him in þe weie. He com in wel sone, Þe ȝates were vndone, Iarmed ful þikke Fram fote to þe nekke. Alle þat were þerin, Biþute his twelf ferin And þe king Aylmare, He dude hem alle to kare Þat at þe feste were. Here lif hi lete þere. Horn ne dude no wunder Of ffikenhildes false tunge. Hi sworen oþes holde, Þat neure ne scholde Horn neure bitraie, Þeȝ he at diþe laie. Hi Runge þe belle, Þe wedlak for to felle. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Horn him ȝede with his, To þe kinges palais. Þer was brid and ale suete, For riche men þer ete. Telle ne miȝte tunge Þat gle þat þer was sunge. ¶ Horn sat on chaere, And bad hem alle ihere. "King," he sede, "þu luste A tale mid þe beste. I ne seie hit for no blame, Horn is mi name. Þu me to kniȝt houe, And kniȝthod haue proued. To þe king men seide Þat iþe bitraide; Þu makedest me fleme, And þi lond to reme. Þu wendest þat iwroȝte Þat y neure ne þoȝte, Bi Rymenhild for to ligge, And þat i wiþsegge. Ne schal ihc hit biginne, Til i suddene winne. Þu kep hure a stunde, Þe while þat i funde In to min heritage And to mi baronage. Þat lond i schal ofreche, And do mi fader wreche. I schal beo king of tune, And bere kinges crune. Þanne schal Rymenhilde Ligge bi þe kinge." ¶ Horn gan to schupe draȝe, Wiþ his yrisse felaȝes. Aþulf wiþ him his broþer; Nolde he non oþer. Þat schup bigan to crude, Þe wind him bleu lude. Biþinne daies fiue Þat schup gan ariue, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Abute middelniȝte. Horn him ȝede wel riȝte. He tok aþulf bi honde, And vp he ȝede to londe. Hi founde vnder schelde, A kniȝt hende in felde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe kniȝt him aslepe lay Al biside þe way. Horn him gan to take, And sede, "kniȝt, awake. Seie what þu kepest, And whi þu her slepest. Me þinkþ, biþine crois liȝte, Þat þu longest to vre driȝte. Bute þu wule me schewe, I schal þe to hewe." Þe gode kniȝt vp aros; Of þe wordes him gros. He sede, "ihc haue, aȝenes my wille, Payns ful ylle. Ihc was cristene a while, Þo i com to þis ille Sarazins blake, Þat dude me forsake. On Crist ihc wolde bileue; On him hi makede me reue, To kepe þis passage Fram horn þat is of age, Þat wunieþ bieste, Kniȝt wiþ þe beste. Hi sloȝe wiþ here honde, Þe king of þis londe, And wiþ him fele hundred. And þerof is wunder Þat he ne comeþ to fiȝte; God sende him þe riȝte, And wind him hider driue, To bringe hem of liue. Hi sloȝen kyng Murry, Hornes fader, king hendy. Horn hi vt of londe sente; Tuelf felaȝes wiþ him wente, Among hem aþulf þe gode, Min oȝene child, my leue fode. Ef horn child is hol and sund, And Aþulf biþute wund, He luueþ him so dere, And is him so stere, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Miȝte iseon hem tueie, For ioie i scholde deie." ¶ "Kniȝt, beo þanne bliþe, Mest of alle siþe. Horn and Aþulf his fere, Boþe hi ben here." To horn he gan gon, And grette him anon. Muche ioie hi makede þere, Þe while hi togadere were. "Childre," he sede, "hu habbe ȝe fare? Þat ihc ȝou seȝ hit is ful ȝare. Wulle ȝe þis londe winne, And sle þat þeris inne?" He sede, "leue horn child, Ȝitt lyueþ þi moder Godhild. Of ioie heo miste, If heo þe aliue wiste." ¶ Horn sede on his rime, "Iblessed beo þe time I com to suddenne, Wiþ mine irisse menne. We schulle þe hundes teche To speken vre speche. Alle we hem schulle sle, And al quic hem fle." Horn gan his horn to blowe; His folk hit gan iknowe. Hi comen vt of stere, Fram hornes banere. Hi sloȝen and fuȝten, Þe niȝt and þe vȝten. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe Sarazins cunde, Ne lefde þer non in þende. Horn let wurche Chapeles and chirche; He let belles ringe, And Masses let singe. He com to his Moder halle, In a roche walle. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Corn he let serie, And makede feste merie. Murie lif he wroȝte; Rymenhild hit dere boȝte. ¶ Fikenhild was prut on herte, And þat him dude smerte. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Ȝonge he ȝaf and elde, Mid him for to helde. Ston he dude lede, Þer he hopede spede. Strong castel he let sette, Mid see him biflette. Þer ne miȝte liȝte Bute foȝel wiþ fliȝte; Bute whanne þe see wiþ droȝe, Miȝte come men ynoȝe. Fikenhild gan wende Rymenhild to schende. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] To woȝe he gan hure ȝerne; Þe kyng ne dorste him werne. Rymenhild was ful of mode; He wep teres of blode. Þat niȝt horn gan swete, And heuie for to mete Of Rymenhild his make, Into schupe was itake. Þe schup bigan to blenche; His lemman scholde adrenche. Rymenhild wiþ hire honde Wolde vp to londe. Fikenhild aȝen hire pelte Wiþ his swerdes hilte. ¶ Horn him wok of slape, So a man þat hadde rape. "Aþulf," he sede, "felaȝe, To schupe we mote draȝe. Fikenhild me haþ idon vnder, And Rymenhild to do wunder. Crist, for his wundes fiue, To niȝt me þuder driue." Horn gan to schupe Ride, His feren him biside. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Fikenhild, or þe dai gan springe, Al riȝt he ferde to þe kinge, After Rymenhild þe briȝte, To wedden hire biniȝte. He ladde hure bi þe derke, Into his nywe werke. Þe feste hi bigunne, Er þat ros þe sunne. Er þane horn hit wiste, To fore þe sunne vpriste. His schup stod vnder ture, At Rymenhilde bure. Rymenhild, litel weneþ heo Þat Horn þanne aliue beo. Þe castel þei ne knewe, For he was so nywe. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Horn fond sittinde Arnoldin, Þat was Aþulfes cosin, Þat þer was in þat tide, Horn for tabide. "Horn kniȝt," he sede, "kinges sone, Wel beo þu to londe icome. Today haþ y wedde fikenhild, Þi swete lemman, Rymenhild. Ne schal i þe lie; He haþ giled þe twie. Þis tur he let make Al for þine sake. Ne mai þer come inne Noman wiþ none ginne. Horn, nu crist þe wisse, Of Rymenhild þat þu ne misse." ¶ Horn cuþe al þe liste Þat eni man of wiste. Harpe he gan schewe, And tok felaȝes fewe, Of kniȝtes suiþe snelle, Þat schrudde hem at wille. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Hi ȝeden bi þe grauel, Toward þe castel. Hi gunne murie singe, And makede here gleowinge. ¶ Rymenhild hit gan ihere, And axede what hi were. Hi sede hi weren harpurs, And sume were gigours. He dude horn in late, Riȝt at halle gate. He sette him on þe benche, His harpe for to clenche. He makede Rymenhilde lay, And heo makede walaway. Rymenhild feol yswoȝe; Ne was þer non þat louȝe. Hit smot to hornes herte So bitere þat hit smerte. He lokede on þe ringe, And þoȝte on Rymenhilde. He ȝede vp to borde, Wiþ gode suerdes orde. Fikenhildes crune Þer ifulde adune, And al his men arowe Hi dude adum þrowe! Whanne hi weren aslaȝe, Fikenhild hi dude to draȝe. Horn makede Arnoldin þare King, after king Aylmare, Of al westernesse, For his meoknesse. Þe king and his homage Ȝeuen Arnoldin trewage. ¶ Horn tok Rymenhild bi þe honde, And ladde hure to þe stronde, And ladde wiþ him Aþelbrus, Þe gode stuard of his hus. Þe se bigan to flowe, And horn gan to Rowe. Hi gunne for ariue Þer king modi was sire. Aþelfrus he makede þer king, For his gode teching. He ȝaf alle þe kniȝtes ore, For horn kniȝtes lore. Horn gan for to ride; Þe wind him bleu wel wide. He ariuede in yrlonde, Þer he wo fondede. Þer he dude Aþulf child Wedden maide Reynild. Horn com to suddenne, Among al his kenne. Rymenhild he makede his quene, So hit miȝte wel beon. Alfolk hem miȝte rewe, Þat loueden hem so trewe; Nu ben hi boþe dede; Crist to heuene hem lede. Her endeþ þe tale of horn Þat fair was and noȝt vnorn. Make we vs glade Eure among, For þus him endeþ hornes song. Jesus þat is of heuene king, Ȝeue vs alle his suete blessing. EX—PLI—CIT. Amen. Laud Misc. MS. 108, fol. 219 b. Alle ben he bliþe Þat to me wilen liþe, A song ich wille you singe Of morye þe kinge. King he was bi westen Wel þat hise dayes lesten, And godild hise gode quene; Feyrer non micte bene. Here sone hauede to name horn; Feyrer child ne micte ben born. Ne reyn ne micte upon reyne, Ne no sonne by schine. Fayrer child þanne he was, Brict so euere any glas, Whit so any lili flour, So rose red was hys colur. He was fayr and eke bold And of fiftene winter hold. Was noman him yliche Bi none kinges riche. xij feren he hadde Þat he mid him ladde, And alle rich kinges sones, And alle swiþe fayre gomes, Mid hym forto pleye. But mest he louede tueye; Þat on was hoten ayol child, And þat oþer fokenild. Ayol was þe beste And fokenild þe werste. Hit was sone someres day, Also ich nou tellen may, Þat moye þe gode kinge Rod on his pleyhinge Bi þe se syde, Þer he was woned to ryde. With him riden bote tvo; Al to fewe ware þo. He fond bi þe stronde, Ariued on his londe, Schipes XV, Of sarazines kene. He acsede wat he sowte Oþer to londe broucte. A peynym it yherde And sone answerede, "Þi lond fole we wilen slon And al þat god leuet on; And þe we solen sone anon; Sald þou neuere henne gon." Þe king licte adoun of his stede, For þo he hauede nede, And hise gode knictes ij, But ywis hem was ful wo. Swerdes þe gonne gripe And to gydere smyte. He fouten an onder selde Some of hem he felde. He weren al to fewe Ayen so fele srewe. Sone micten atteþ [after þ a letter erased] Bringen þre deþe. Þe paynimes comen to londe And nomen hyt al to honde. Cherches he gonnen felle, And fole he gonne quelle. Þer ne micte libbe Þe fremde ne þe sibbe, Bote he here ley forsoken And to here token. Of alle wimmenne Verst was godyld onne. For moy he wep sore And for horn wel more. Godild hauede so michel sore Micte no wimman habbe more. Þe vente hout of halle, Fram hire maydenes alle, In to a roche of stone. Þar he wonede allone. Þer he seruede god, Ayenes þe houndes forbod. Þer he seruede criste, Þat paynimes ne wiste, And euere bed for horn child, Þat ihesu crist him were mild. Horn was in peynims honde, Mid his feren of þe londe. Miche was his fayrhede, So ihesu him hauede made. Þo hundes wolde slon, And some him wolde flon. Ȝif hornes fayrede nere, Þe child yslawe ware. Uan bi spek him amyraud, Of wordes he was swiþe baud, "Horn, þou art swiþe scene, And follyche swiþe kene; Þou art fayr and eke strong, Þou art eueneliche long. Þou scald more wexe In þis fif yere þe nexte. Ȝif þu to liue mictest go, An þine feren also, Þat micte so bifalle Þou suldes slen us alle. Þe for þou scald to stron go And þine feren also. To schip ye schulen stounde A sinken to þe grunde. Þe se þe sal adrinke; Ne sal hit us of þinke. For yf þou come to liue, With suerdes or with cniue We sholde alle deye, Þi faderes det abeye." Þe childre yede to stronde, Wringende here honde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . .] Ofte hauede horn child be wo, Bute neuere werse þan þo. Horns yede in to þe shipes bord Sone at þe firste word, And alle hise feren, Þat ware him lef and dere. Þe se bigan to flowen And horn faste to rowen. And here schip swiþe drof; Þe children adred þer of. Þei wenden alle wel ywis Of here lif haued ymis, Al þe day and al þe nict, Til him sprong þe day lyt. Til horn bi þe stronde Seth men gon alonde. "Feren," he seyde, "singe, Y telle ȝou a tidinge. Ych here foules singe And so þe gras him springe. Bliþe be we o liue, Houre schip hys come ryue." Of schip þe gon fonde An sette fot on grunde. Bi þe se side Here schip bigan to glide. Þanne spek þe chid horn, In sodenne he was yborn, "Go nou, schip, by flode, And haue dawes gode. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . .] Softe mote þou stirie, No water þe derie. Wanne þou comes to sodenne, Gret wel al mi kinne, And grete wel þe gode Quen godild, my moder. And sey þat heþene king, Ihesu cristes wiþerling, Þat ichc lef and dere, On londe am riued here. And sei þat he shal fonge Þe deth of mine honde." Þe schip bigan to flete And horn child forto wepe. Þe children yede to towne Bi dales and bi downe. Metten he with aylmer king, God him yeue god timing, King of westnesse, God him yeue blisse. For he spek to horn child Wordes wel swiþe mild, "Wenne be ye, fayre grome, Þat here to londe ben ycome, Alle xiij Of bodi swiþe schene? Bi ihesu þat me made, So fayre on ereþ clade, Ne say neuere stonde In al westnesse londe. Sey me wat ye seche." Horn spak here speche, Hor spak for hem alle, So hit moste by falle, For þat he was fayrest And of witte wisest. "We ben of sodenne, ycomen of godemenne, Of cristene blode And of swiþe gode. Paynims þer were riued And broucten men of liue. He slowe and to drowe Cristene men hy nowe. So god me mote rede. Vs he deden lede In to salyley, Wit þe se to pleye. Day igo and oþer Wit uten seyl and roþer. And hure schip swemme gan, And he to londe it wan. Nou men us binde Oure honden us bi hinden, And yf it be þi wille, Help us þat we ne spille." Þo bispac aylmer king, Was he neuere nyþing, "Sey me, child, wat is þi name, Ne schal þe tide bote game." Þat child him answerede, Sone so hit herde, "Hor hich am hote, Ycome out of þe bote, Fram þe se syde, King, wel þe bityde." "Hon child," qwad þe king, "Wel brouke þou þi naming. Horn him goth snille Bi dales an bi hulle; And þoruuth eche toune Horn him shilleþ soune. So shal þi name springe Fram kinge to kinge, And þi fayrnesse Þoru out westnesse, And stregþe of þine honde Þoruouth euerich londe. Horn þu art so swete No schal yþe for lete." Hom rod him aylmer king, And wit horn þe sweting And alle hyse feren, Þat weren lef and dere. Þe king com in to halle Among hise kinctes alle. He bad clepen aybrous, Þe heye stiward of his hous. "Stiward, haue þou here Horn chil for to lere Of þine mestere, [No gap in MS. . . . .] Of wode and of felde To riden wel wit shelde. Tech him of þe harpe, Wit his nayles sharpe Biforn me for to harpen, And of þe cuppe seruen, And of alle þe listes Þat þou on erþe vistes. His feren deuise Of oþer seruise. Horn child þou vnderfonge; Tech him of harpe and songe." And aylbrous gan leren Horn and hise feren. Horn in herte laucte Al þat men him taucte. Wit hine þe curt and wit oute, And alle veie aboute, Men loueden alle horn child, And mest him louede rimenild, Þe kinge owne douter. He was euere in þoute. So hye louede horn child, Þat hye wex al wild. Hye ne micte on borde Wit horn speken no worde, Noþer in þe halle Among þe kinctes alle, Ne nower in no stede, For for folc þer was so meche. Hire sorwe and hire pyne Nolde he neuere fine. Bi day ne bi nicte Wit him speke ne micte. In herte hye haue kare and wo; Þus he hire bi þoucte þo. He sende hire sonde Aylbrous to honde. And be, he schold hire comen to, And also scholde horn do In to hire boure, For hye gan to loure. And ysonde seyde Wel riche was þe mede, And bed him comen swiþe, For hye nas naut bliþ. Þe stiward was in herte wo, He ne wiste wat he micte do. Wat reymnyld wroute, Mikel wonder him þoute. Abote horn þe ȝenge To boure for to bringe, He þoucte on his mode Hit nas for none gode. He tok wit him anoþer, Þat was hornes wed broþer. "Ayol," he seyde, "ryt anon Þou shalt wit me to boure gon, To speke wit reymyld stille And witen al hire wille. In hornes ylyche Þou schalt hire bi swike. Wel sore y me of drede Þat hye wile horn mis rede." Aylbrous, and ayol him myde, Boþe he to boure ȝede. Opon ayol childe Reymyld was naut wilde. Hye wende horn hit were Þat hye hadde þere. Hye sette him on bedde, With ayol he gan wedde. In hire armes tweye Ayol he gan leye. "Horn," hye seyde, "so longe Ich habbe yloued þe stronge. Þou schalt me treuþe plyȝte In mine honde wel ryhcte, Me to spouse welde, And ich þe louerd to helde." And seyde in hire here, So stille so it were, "Ne te þou more speche, Sum man þe wile bi keche. Þi tale bi gyn to lynne, For horn nis nouth herinne. Horn his fayr and riche, Be we naut yliche, Fayror honder ribbe Þan onyman þat libbe. Þei horn were honder molde, Oþer elles qwere e wolde, Hanne ouer a þousond mile, Ne schulde ich him bigile." Reymyld hire bi wende, Þe stiward sone he schende. "Aylbrous, þu foule þef, Ne worstu me neuere lef. Wend out of mi boure, Wyt muchel mesauenture. Heuele ded mote þou fonge And on heuele rode on honge. Spak ich nou with horn, His he nowt me biforn. He his fayror of liue; Wend out henne bilyue." Þo aylbrous a stounde On kneus fel to grunde. "A, leuedy, min howe, Lyþe a litel þrowe. [No gap in MS. . . . .] To bringe þe horn to honde. Horn hys fayr and riche, His no man hys liche, And aylmer, þe gode king, Dede him in Mi loking. Ȝyf horn þe were aboute, Wel sore ich me doute Þat ye schulden pleye Bitwen hou one tweye. Þan scholde wit outen oþe Þe king hus maken wroþe. For ȝyf me þi tene, My leuedi and my quene, And horn ich wolle feche, Wam so hit euere reche." Reymyld, ȝyf hye cowþe, Gan leyhe wyt hire mouþe. Hye lowe and makede blyþe Wel was hire swiþe. "Go," hye seyde, "sone, And bring him after none, In a squieres wise, Wan þe king aryse. He wende forþ to horne; Ne wolde sche him werne. "He schal mid me bi leue Til hyt be ner heue. Had ich of hym my wille, Ne reche y wat men telle." Aylbrous fram boure wende, Horn in halle he fonde, Bi forn þe king abenche, Red win to schenche, And after mete stale, Boþe win and ale. "Horn," he seyde, "so hende, To boure þo most wende, After mete stille, wit With reymild to dwelle. Wordes swiþe bolde In herte gon þu holde. Hor, be me wel trewe; Ne schal it þe nouth rewe." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Horn him wende forþricte To reymyld þe brycte. Hon kneus he him sette And rimyld fayre grette. Of þat fayre wihcte Al þe halle gan licte. He spak fayre speche; Ne þar him no ma teche. "Wel þou sitte and softe, Reymyld, kinges douter, With þine maydnes syxe Þat sittet þe nexte. Þe kinges stiward and houre Sente me to boure. With þe hy speke schulde; Sey me wat þou wolde. Sey, and ich schal here, Wat þi wille were." Reymild up gan stonde And tok him bi þe honde. Sette he him on palle; Wyn hye dide fulle, Makede fayre chere, And tok him bi þe swere. Often hye him kiste, So wel hire luste. "Wel come, horn," hye seyde, "So fayr so god þe makede. An heue and amorwe For þe ich habbe sorwe. Haue ich none reste; Slepe me ne liste. Leste me þis sorwe, Lyue hy nawt to morwe. Horn, þou schalt wel swiþe My longe sorwe liþe; Þou schalt, wit uten striue, Habben me to wiue. Horn, haue on me rewþe, And plyct þou me þi trewþe." Horn child him bi þoute Wat he speke myȝte. "God," qwad horn, "þe wisse, And ȝyue þe ioye and blisse Of þine hosebonde, Whare he be in londe. Ich am hy born to lowe Such a wyf to owe. Ich am born þralle, And fundlynge am bi falle. Ich am nawt of kende Þe to spouse welde. Hit were no fayr wedding Bituene a þral and þe king." Reymyld gan to mys lyke, And sore forto syke. Armes hye nam boþe, And doune he fel yswowe. Hor hire ofte wende, And in hys armes trende. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] "Lemman," qwat he, "dere, þin herte gyn þou to stere, And hep þou me to knicte, Oppe þine myȝte To my louerd þe kinge, Þat he me ȝyue dobbinge. And þanne hys my þralhede yterned in knyt hede, And þenne hy schal wite more, And don after þi lore." Þo reymyl þe ȝenge Com of hire swohinge, And seyde, "horn, wel ricte, Þou art so fayr and briycte, Þou schalt worþe to knyte, hyt comeȝ sone nyȝte. Nym þou here þis coppe, And þis ryng þer oppe, And beryt houre styward, And bid helde foreward. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Bid hym for þe falle To kinges fot in halle, Þat he dubbe þe to knicte Wyt hys swerde so bricte. Wyt siluer and wit golde Hyt worþ him wel hyȝolde. Horn, god lene þe wel spede Þi herdne forto bede." Horn tok hys leue, For it was ney eue. Aylbrous he sowte And tok him þat he browte. He talede to him þere hou he hauede hy fare. He telde him of his nede, And bi het him his mede. Aylbrous wel bliþe To halle he ȝede wel swiþe, And sette him on kneuling, And grette wel þe king. "Syre," he seyde, "wiltu luste Ane tale wit þe beste? Þou schalt bere corune In þis hulke toune. To morwe worþe þi festes; Me by houed gestes. Ich þe wolde rede ate lest Þat þou horn knict makedest. Þi armes to him welde; God knict he schal ben helde." Þe king seyde sone, "Þat hys wel to done. Horn me wole ben queme, To be knict him by seme. He schal habbe my dubbing And be my nowne derling. And his feren xij Ich schal dobbe My selue. Alle ich hem schal knicte Bi for me to fyte." Amorwe her þe dey spronge Aylmer king þoute wel longe. Þe day by gan to springe, Horn cam bi forn þe kinge. Wit swerde horn he girde Rit honder hys herte. He sette him on stede Red so any glede, And sette on his fotes Boþe spores and botes, And smot alitel with, And bed him ben god knict. Ayol fel on knes þere By forn þe king aylmere, And seyde, "king so kene, Graunte me my bene. Þou hast knicted sire horn Þat in sodenne was hy born. Louerd he hys in londe, Of vs þat bi him stonde, Mid spere and wit scelde To fyten in þe felde. Let him os alle knicte, So hyt hys hise ricte." Þo seyde þe king wel sone wis, "Do horn as hys wil hys." Horn adown gan lycte And makede hem to knicte. Comen were þe gestes, Amorwe was þe feste. Reymyld was nowt þere, Hire þoute seue yere. After horn hye sende; Hor to boure wende. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He nam his felawe in hys honde, And fonde Reymyld in boure stonde. "Welcome art þou, sire horn, And ayol chil þe bi forn. Knict, nou it his tyme Þat þo sitte by me. Yf þou be trewe of dedes, Do þat þou arre seydes. Do nou þat we speke, To wif þou schalt me take." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] "Reymyld," qwat horn, "be stille; Hy schal don al þi wille. Hat first hyt mote by tyde Mid spere þat ich ride, Mi knicthede for to proue, Herst, here ich þe wowe. We beþ kinctes yonge, Alto day hy spronge; Of þe mestere Hyt hys þe manere, Wyt som oþer knicte For hys leman to fycte, Her ich eny wif take. Þer fore ne haue ich þe forsake. To day, so god me blisse, Ich sal do pruesce, For þe lef wyt schelde, In mideward þe felde. And hy come to liue Ich take þe wiue." Knict," qwat reymyl, þe trewe, "Yich wene ich may þe leue. Haue nou here þis gold ring, He his god to þi dobbing. Ne hys none swilk vnder sonne, Þat man may offe konne. Hy graue hys on þe Ringe, 'Rymyld þi lef þe yenge'; [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe ston him hys of swiche grace, Þat þou ne schal in none place Of none donte fayle, Þer þou biginnes batayle. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . .] And sire ayol, þi broþer, He sal haue anoþer. Horn, god hy þe bi teche, Wit morninde speche. God þe ȝyeue god endynge, An hol þe aȝen bringe." Þe knict hyre gan to kusse, And reymyld him blisse. Leue at hire he nom, And in to halle com. Þe knictes ȝyede to table, And horn in to stable. He tok forþ his gode fole, So blac so eny cole. In armes he him schredde, And hys fole he fedde. Hys fole schok hys brenye, Þat al þe court gan denye. Hys fole gan forþ springe, And horn merie to synge. He rod one wile Wel more þan a mile. He sey a schip rowe, Mid wat alby flowe, Of out londisse manne, Of sarazine kenne. Hem askede qwat he hadde, Oþer to londe ladde. A geant him gan by holde, And spek wordes bolde. "Þis lond we wile winne, And slen al þat þer ben hinne." Horn gan hys swerd gripe, And on his arm hyt wipe. Þe sarazin so he smot, Þat al hys blod was hot. At þe furste dunte Hys heued of gan wente. Þo gonnen þo hundes gon Aȝenes horn alon. He lokede on his gode ringe, And þoute on reymild þe yenge. He slow þer on haste An hundred at þe leste. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Of þat þe were aryue, Fewe he leued on liue. Þe meyster kinges heued He haddit him by reued. He settit on hys swerde, Anoven on þe horde, Til he com to halle, Among þe knictes alle. He seyde, "king, wel mote þou sitte, An þine knictes mitte. Þer y rod on my pleying, Sone hafter my dobbing, Y say a schip rowe Mid watere al by flowe, Of none londische menne, Bote sarazines kenne, To deye, for to pyne Þe and alle þine. He gonnen me asaylen. My swerd me ne wolde fayle; Ich broute hem alto grunde In one lite stounde. Þe heued ich þe bringe Of þe meyster kinge. Nou ich haue þe yolde, Þat þu me knicten wolde." Þe day bi gan to springe, Þe king rod on huntingge. To wode he gan wende, For to lacchen þe heynde. Wyt hym rod fokenild, Þat alþe werste moder child. And horn wente in to boure, To sen auenture. He fond Reymild sittende, Sore wepende, Whit so eny sonne, Wit teres albi ronne. He seyde, "lemman, þin ore, Wy wepes þou so sore?" Hye seyde, "ich nawt ne wepe, Bote ich schal her ich slepe. Me þoute in my metynge, Þat ich rod on fischinge. To se my net ich keste; Ne Mict ich nowt lache. A gret fys ate furste Mi net he makede berste. Þe fys me so by laucte, Þat ich nawt ne kaucte. Ich wene ich schal forlese Þe fys þat ich wolde chese." "God and seynte steuene," Qwad horn, "terne þi sweuene. Ne shal ich neuere swike, Ne do þat þe mis like. Ich nime þe to my nowe, To habben and to howe, For euerich wyȝte; Þarto my treuwþe ich plicte." Miche was þat rewþe Þat was at here trewþe. Reymyld wel stille, And horn let teres spille. He seyde, "lemman dere, Þou schalt more here. Þy sweuene ich schal schende. [No gap in MS. . . . .] Þe fis þat brac þi seyne, Hy wis hyt was som ble[y]ne Þat schal us do som tene; Hy wis hyt worþ hy sene." Þe king rod bi his toure, And horn was in þe boure. Fykenyld hadde envie, An seyde hise folye:— "Aylmere, king, ich wole warne, Horn chil þe wile berne. Ich herde qware he seyde, And his swerd leyde, To bringe þe of liue, And take rimenyld to wiue. Nou he hys in boure, Al honder couerture, By reymyld, þi douter; And so he hys wel ofter. Ich rede þat þu wende; Þer þu myct him schende. Do him out of þi londe, Her do more schonde." Aylmer king him gan torne, Vel mody and wel Mourne. To boure he gan ȝerne, Durst hym noman werne. He fond horn wit arme, In rimenyldes barme. "Henne out," qwad aylmer king, "Henne, þou foule wendling, Out of boure flore, Fram Reymyld, þi hore. Sone bote þe flecte, Wit swerd hy wole þe hette. Hout of londe sone, Here hauest þou nowt to done." Horn cam in to stable, Wel modi for þe fable. He sette sadel on stede, With armes he hym gan schrede. Hys brenye he gan lace, So he scholde, in to place. Þo hyt þer to gan ten, Ne durst him noman sen. Swerd he gan fonge; Ne stod he nowt to longe, And ȝyede forþ ricte To reymyld þe bricte. He seyde, "leman, derling, Now hauestu þi meting. Þe fys þi net to rente, Fram þe he me sente. Þe king gynneþ wiht me striue; Awey he wole me driue. Reymyld, haue god day, For nov ich founde awey, In to onekuþ londe, Wel more forto fonde. Ich schal wony þere Fulle seve ȝere. Ate vij ȝeres hende, Bot ȝyf hy come oþer sende, Tac þou hosebonde, For me þat þou wonde. I armes þou me fonge, An kusse swiþe longe." He kusten one stunde, And reymyld fel to grunde. Horn tok his leue, For hyt was ney heue. He nam ayol, trewe fere, Al aboute þe swete, And seyt, "knict so trewe, Kep Mi leue wiue. So þou me neuere forsoke, Reymyl kep and loke." Horn gan stede by stride, And forþ he gan ride. Ayol wep wit heye, And alle þat hym seye. Horn chil forþ hym ferde; A god schip he him herde, Þat hym scholde wisse Out of westnisse. Þe whyȝt him gan stonde, And drof tyl hirelonde. To londe he gan flette, And out of schip him sette. He mette by þe weye, Kingges sones tweye; Þat on was hoten ayld, And þat oþer byrild. Byrild him gan preye Þat he scholde seye Wat hys name were, And qwat he wolde þere. "Cuberd," he seyde, "ich hote, Comen fram þe bote, Fer fram bi weste, To chesen mine beste." Byryld him gan ryde, And tok hym by þe bridel. "Wel be þou, knict, here founde; Whyt me bileuest a stounde. So ich ne mote sterue, Þe kyng þou schal serue. Ne sey ich neuere on lyue So fayr knyt aryue." Cubert he ledde to halle, And adoun gan falle. He sette hym on knewlyng, And grette wel þe gode king. Þo seyde byrild wel sone, "Whit hym hauen to done. Tak hym þi lond to werye; Ne schal hym noman derye. He hys þe fayreste man Þat euere in þis londe cam." Þo seyde þe king so dere, "Wel come be he here. Go nov, byryld, swyþe, An mak him glad and blyþe. Wan þou farest awowen, Tak hym þine glouen. Þer þou hauest Mynt to wyue, Awey he schal þe dryue." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Hyt was at Cristesmesse, Naþer more ne lesse. Þe king hym makede a feste, Wyt hyse knyctes beste. Þer com ate none, A geaunt swiþe sone, Armed of paynime, And seyde in hys rime, "Syte, knytes, by þe king, And lusteþ to my tydyng. Here beþ paynyms aryued, Wel mo þanne fyue. By þe se stronde, Kyng, on þine londe. One þer of wille ich fyȝte Aȝen þi þre knyctes. Ȝyf þat houre felle þyne þre, Al þis lond schal vre be; Ȝyf þyne þre fellen houre, Al þys lond þanne be ȝyure. To morwe schal be þe fyȝtyng, At þe sonne op rysyng." Þo seyde þe king þurston, "Cubert he schal be þat on, Ayld chyld þat oþer, Þe þrydde, byryld, hyse broþer. Hye þre beþ þe strengeste, And in armes þe beste. At wat schal do to rede? Ich wene we ben alle dede." Cubert set on borde, And seyde þis worde:— "Syre kyȝeking, hyt no ryȝcte, On wiþ þre to fyȝcte. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] At wille ich alone, With outen mannes mone, Mid my swerd wel heþe Bringen hem alle to deþe." Þe kyng ros a morwe, And hadde meche sorwe. Cubert ros of bedde; Wyt armes he hym schredde. Hys brenye on he caste, Lacede hyt wel faste. He cam biforn þe godeking, At hyse op rysyng. He seyde, "king, com to felde, Me for to by helde, Hou we scholen fyȝte And to gydere hus dyȝcte." Ryȝt at prime tyde, He gonne hem out ryde. He founden in a grene, A geant swyþe kene, Armed with swerd by side, Þe day for to abyde. Cubert him gan asayle; Wolde he nawt fayle. He keyte duntes ynowe; Þe geant fel hy swowe. Hys feren gonnen hem wyt drawe, Þo here mayster wa slawe. He seyden, "knyct þo reste Awile ȝyf þe luste. We neuere ne hente Of man MS. adds 'nes honde' underdotted as a mistake. so harde dunte, Bute of þe king Mory, Þat was so swyþe stordy. He was of hornes kinne; We slowe hym in sodenne." Cuberd gan agrise, And hys blod aryse. By for hym he sey stonde Þat drof hym out of londe, And hys fader aquelde. He smot hym honder schelde. He lokede on hys gode ringe, And þoute on reymyld þe ȝonge. Myd gode dunt ate furste, He smot hym to þe herte. Þe hondes gonnen at erne In to þe schypes sterne. To schip he wolden ȝerne, And cubert hem gan werne, And seyde, "kyng, so þou haue reste, Clep nou forþ ofi þi beste, And sle we þyse hounden, Here we henne founden." Þe houndes hye of laucte, An strokes hye þere kaute. Faste aȝen hye stode, Aȝen duntes gode. Help nawht here wonder; Cubert hem broute al honder. He schedde of here blode, And makede hem al wode. To deþe he hem browte, Hys fader deþ he bowten. Of al þe kinges rowe, Þer nas bute fewe slawe. Bote hys sones tweye By fore he sey deye. Þe king bi gan to grete, And teres for to lete. Men leyden hem on bere, And ledde hem wel þere In to holy kyrke, So man scholde werke. Þe king cam hom to halle, Among þe kniyctes alle. "Do, cubert," he seyde, "As ich þe wolle rede. Dede beþ myn heyres, And þou þe boneyres, And of grete strengþe, Swete and fayr of lengþe. Mi reaume þou schalt helde, And to spuse welde Hermenyl, my douter, Þat syt in boure softe." He seyde, "king, wit wronge Scholde ich hire honder fonge, Þing þat þou me bede, And þy reaume lede. At more ich wile þe serue, And fro sorwe þe berwe. Þy sorwe hyt schal wende Her þis seue ȝeres hende. And wanne he beþ wente, Kyng, ȝyf þou me my rente. Wan ich þi douter herne, Ne schalt þou hire me werne." Horn child wonede þere fulle sixe yere. Þe seuenþe, þat cam þe nexte After þe sexte, MS. adds 'yeres hende' underdotted as a mistake. To reymyld he ne wende, Ne to hyre sende. Reymyld was in westnesse, Myd michel sorwenesse. A kyng þer was aryuede Þat wolde hyre habbe to wyue. At sone ware þe kynges Of hyre weddinges. Þe dawes weren schorte, And reymyld ne dorste Lette in none wise. A writ he dede deuise; Ayol hyt dide write, Þat horn ne louede nawt lite. And to eueryche londe, For horn hym was so longe, After horn þe knycte, For þat he ne Myȝte. Horn þer of ne þoute, Tyl, on a day þat he ferde To wode for to seche, A page he gan mete. He seyde, "leue fere, Wat sekest þou here?" "Knyt, feyr of felle," Qwat þe page, "y wole þe telle. Ich seke fram westnesse, Horn, knyt of estnesse, For þe mayde reymyld, Þat for hym ney waxeþ wild. A kyng hire schal wedde, A soneday to bedde, Kyng mody of reny, Þat was hornes enemy. Ich haue walked wide By þe se syde. Ich neuere myȝt of reche Whit no londisse speche. Nis he nower founde, A weylawey þe stounde. Reymyld worþ by gile, Weylawey þe wile." Horn hyt herde with eren, And wep with blody teren. "So wel þe, grom, by tide, Horn stant by þy syde. Aȝen to reymyld turne, And sey þat he ne morne. Ich schal ben þer by tyime, A soneday by prime." Þe page was blyþe, And schepede wel swyþe. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe se hym gan to drenche; Reymyld hyt Myȝt of þinche. Þe se hym gan op þrowe, Honder hire boures wowe. Reymyld gan dore vn pynne, Of boure þat he was ynne, And lokede forþ riȝete After horn þe knyte. Þo fond hye hire sonde Drenched by þe stronde, Þat scholde horn bringe; Hyre fingres hye gan wringe. Horn cam to þurston þe kinge, And telde hym hys tydinge. So he was by cnowe Þat reymyld was his owe. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He seyde, "kyng so wise, ȝeld me my seruyse. Reymyld me help to winne; Þat þou ich nowt ne lynne, And hy schal to house Þy douter do wel spuse. He schal to spuse haue Ayol, My trewe felawe, He hys knyt wyt þe beste, And on of þe treweste." Þo seyde þe kyng so stille, "Horn, do þine wille." Horn sente hys sonde In to eueryche londe, After men to fyȝte, Hyrische men so wyȝte, To hym were come hy nowe, Þat in to schipe drowe. Horn tok hys preye. And dude him in hys weye. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Here scyp gan forþ seyle, Þe wynd hym nolde fayle. He striken seyl of maste, And anker he gonne kaste. Þe soneday was hy sp[ronge], And þe messe hy songe, Of reymylde þe ȝonge, And of mody þe kinge; And horn was in watere; Myȝt he come no latere. He let scyp stonde, And ȝede hym op to londe. Hys folc he dide abyde Honder þe wode syde. He wende forþ alone, So he were spronge of stone. A palmere he mette; Wyt worde he hym grette, "Palmere, þou schalt me telle," He seyde, "on þine spelle, So brouke þou þi croune, Wi comest þou fram toune?" Þe palmere seyde on hys tale, "Hy com fram on bridale. Ich com fram brode hylde Of Mayden reymylde. Fram honder chyrche wowe, Þe gan louerd owe, Ne miyȝte hye hyt dreye Þat hye wep wyt eye. He seyde þat 'hye nolde Be spoused Myd golde; Hye hadde hosebonde, Þey be nere nawt in londe.' Mody Myd strencþe hyre hadde, And in to toure ladde, Into a stronge halle, Whit inne kastel walle. Þer ich was attegate; Moste ich nawt in rake. Awey ich gan glyde; Þe deþ ich nolde abyde. Þer worþ a rewlich dole, Þer þe bryd wepeþ sore." "Palmere," qwad horn, "so god me rede Ich and þou willen chaungen wede. Tac þou me þi sclauyne, And haue þou cloþes myne. To day ich schal þere drynke; Som man hyt schal of þinke." Þe sclavyn he gan doun legge, And horn hyt dide on rigge. Þe palmere tok hys cloþes, Þat ne weren hym nowt loþe. Horn toc burdoun and scrippe, And gan wringe hys lippe. He makede a foul chere, And kewede hys swere. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He cam to þe gateward, Þat hym answered hard. He bed on do wel softe, Fele syþe and ofte. Myȝte he nowt wynne For to come þerinne. Horn gan to þe yate turne, And þe wyket op spurne. Þe porter hyt scholde abygge; He pugde hym ofer þe brigge, Þat hys ribbes gonnen krake; And horn into halle rake. He sette hym wel lowe, In beggeres rowe. He loked al aboute, Mid hys kelwe snowte. He sey Reymyld sytte Al so hy were of witte, Wyt droupnynde chere, Þat was hys lemman dere. He lokede in eche halke; Sey he nowere stalke Ayol hys trewe felawe, Þat trewe was and ful of lawe. Ayol was op in toure, Aboute for to poure After hornes cominge, Ȝyf water hym wolde bringe. Þe se he sey flowe, And horn nower rowe. He seyde in hys songe, "Horn, þou art to longe. Reymyld þou me by toke, Þat ich hyre scholde loke. Ich haue hire yloked euere, And þou ne comest neuere." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Reymyld ros of benche, Þe knyȝtes for to schenche. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] An horn hye ber on honde, As hyt was lawe of londe. Hye drank of þebere, To knyt and to squiere. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] And horn set on þe grunde; Hym þoute he was bounde. He seyde, "quen so hende, To meward gyn þou wende. Schenk hus Myd þe furste; Þe beggeres beþ of þerste." Þe horn hye leyde adoune, And fulde hem of þe broune, A bolle of one galun; Hye wende he were a glotoun. "Nym þou þe coppe, And drinkyt al oppe. Sey ich neuere, ich wene, Beggere so bold and kene." Horn tok þe coppe hys fere, And seyde, "quen so dere, No drynk nel ich bite, Bote of one coppe wite. Þou wenst ich be a beggere; For gode ich am a fyȝssere, Hy come fram by weste, To fyȝen an þi feste. My net hys ney honde, In a wel fayr ponde. Hyt hat hy be here Al þis seueȝere. Hyc am hy come to loke Ȝif any he toke. Ȝyf any fyȝs hys þerynne, Þer of þou winne. Ich am hy come to fyȝsse, Drink to me of þy disse; Drynk to horn of horn, For ich habbe hy ȝouren." Reymyld hym gan by holde, And hyre herte to kolde. Neyȝ he nowt hys fyssing, Ne hym selue no þyng. Wonder hyre gan þynke, Wy he hyre bed drynke. He fulde horn þe wyn, And dronk to þe pylegrim. "Palmere, þou drinke þy fulle, And syþe þou schalt telle, Ȝyf þou horn awt seye Honder wode leye." Horn drank of horn a stounde, And þrew hys ryng to þe grounde. He seyde, "quen, nou seche Qwat hys in þy drenche." Reymild ȝede to boure, Wyt hyre maydenes foure. He fond þat he wolde, A ryng hy grauen of golde, Þat horn of hyre hadde. Wel sore hyre of dradde Þat horn child ded were, For þe ryng was þere. Þo sende hye a damysele Adoun after þe palmere. "Palmere," hye seyde, "so trewe, Þe ryng þou here þrewe, Sey war þou ith nome, And hyder wi þou come." He seyde, "bi seynt gyle, Ich aue hy go mani amyle, Wel fer her by weste, To seche my beste, My mete for to bidde, So hyt me by tidde. Þat fond ich horn child stonde, To scyppeward on stronde. He seyde he wolde agesce To ryuen in westnesse. Þat scyp hym ȝede to flode, Myd me and horn þe gode. Horn was sech and ded, And for his loue me bed, 'To schipe with me þe ring To Reymyld quene þe ȝeng.' Ofte he me kuste, God ȝyue hys soule reste." Reymyld seyde ate ferste, "Herte, nou to berste; Horn ne worþ me na more, For wam hy pyne sore." Hye fel adoun on þe bed Þer hye hauede knyues leyd, To slen hire louerd loþe, And hyre selue boþe, In þat hulke [nyȝte], Bote horn come myȝte. Knyf to hyre herte hye sette, And horn hire gan lette. Hys schirt lappe he gan take, And wiped awey þat blake Þat was on hys swere, And seyde, "quene so dere, Canst þou me nawt knowe? Ne am ich al þyn owe? Ich am horn of estnesse; In þyn armes þou me kusse." Hye clepten and hye kuste Þe wile þat hem luste. "Reymyld," qwad horn, "ich moste [wende To þe wodes hende, After mine knyȝtes, Hyrische men so wyȝte, Armed honder cloþe. He scholen maken wroþe Þe kyng and hyse gestes Þat sytten atte feste. To day we schole hem keche, Ryȝt nou ich wolle hem teche." HOrn sprong out of halle; Þe sclavyn he let falle. And Reymyld wente to toure, And fond ayol lure. "Ayol, be wel blyþe, And go to horn swyþe. He hys honder wode bowe, And Myd hym felawe ynowe." Ayol forþ gan springe, Wel glad for þat tydyngge. Faste after horn he rende; Hym þoute hys herte brende. Of tok he horn hy wys, And kuste hym wit blys. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He com aȝen wel sone, Þe gates weren ondone. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Hye þat ate feste heten, Here lyue he gonnen þer leten. And þe kyng mody Hym he made blody. And þe king aylmere Þo hauede myche fere. Horn no wonder ne makede Of fykenildes falsede. He sworen alle and seyde Þat here non hym by wreyde. And ofte he sworen hoþes holde, Þat þere non ne scholde No ware horn by wreyen, Þou he to deþe leyen. He rongen þe bellen, Þe wedding for to fullen, Of hor þat was so hende, And of reymyld þe ȝonge. Horn ledde hyre hom wit heyse, To hyre fader paleyse. Þer was brydale swete; Riche men þer hete. Tellen ne Myȝte no tonge Þe joye þat þer was songe. Horn set on hys cheyere, And bed he scholden alle here. He seyde, "kyng so longe, My tale þou honderstonde. Hy was born in sodenne; Kyng was My fader of kunne. Þo me to knyȝte þou ȝoue; My knyȝthede ich haue proued. To þe of me men seyde War for þi herte creyde. Þou makedest me to rewe, Þo þou bote me fleme. Þou wendes þat ich wroute Þat hy neuere ne þoute, Wyt Reymyld for ligge. I wys ich hyt wyt sigge. Ich ne schal neuere a gynne, Er ich sodenne wynne. Kep hire me a stounde, Þe wille ich hennes founde In to myn heritage, Mid myn hirysce page. Þat lond ich schal of reche, And do my fader wreche. Ich schal be kyng of tune, And wite of kynges r[?]owne. Þenne schal Reymyld þe ȝonge Lyggen by horn þe kynge." Hor gan to schipe ryde, And hys knyȝtes bi side. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Here schip gan to croude, Þe wynd hym bleu wel loude. Honder sodenne syde Here schip bi gan to glide, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Abowte myd niȝte. Horn hym yede wel ryȝte, Nam ayol on hys honde, And yeden op hon londe. Hye found honder schelde, A knyt liggen in felde. Op þe scheld was drawe A crowch of ihesu cristes lawe. Þe knyt hy lay on slepe, Between vv. 1399 and 1400 stands in the MS. Laud the incomplete line Horn hym gan m, underdotted to indicate that it is due to a mistake of the scribe. In armes wel ymete. Horn hym gan take, And seyde, "knyt, awake. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Me þynkeþ, by þe crowches lyste, Þat þou leuest on criste. Bote þou hit raþe schewe, Wyt Mi swerd ich schal þe hewe." Þe gode knyt op aros; Of hornes wordes hym agros. He seyde, "hy serue ylle Paynyms, aȝen My wille. Ich was cristene som wyle, And þo were come into þis yle Sarazyns lodlike and blake, And dide me god forsake. Bi god on wam yleue, Þo he makeden me reue, To loke þis passage For horn þat hys of age. He woneþ alby weste, God knyt myd þe beste. He slow Mid hys honde Þe kyng of þise londe, And wyt hym men an hundred. Þer fore me þinkeþ wonder Þat he comeþ fiȝþcte. God yeue hym þe miyȝte, Þat wynde hym driue To bringen hem of liue. He slowen þe kyng mory, Hornes fader so stordy. Horn to water he sente, xij children myd hym wente. Þer mong was ayol þe gode, Myn owe child, myn owe fode. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] He louede horn wel derne, And horn hym also ȝerne. Ȝyf horn hys hol and sounde, Ayol ne tyt no wounde. Bote ich nou se hem tweye, I wys ich wolle deye." "Knyt, be swiþe blyþe, Mest of alle syþe. Ayol and horn yfere Boþe he ben here." Þe knyt to hem gan steppe, And in armes cleppe. Þe joie þat he made, Myȝte no man rede. He seyde wit steuene ȝare, "Children, hou abbe ȝe fare? Wolle ȝe þis lond winne, And wonye þer inne?" He seyde, "leue horn child, Ȝet liueþ þy moder godild." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Horn seyde on hys rime, "Hyblessed be þe tyme Ich am ycome to sodenne, Wyt Myn hyrysce menne. Þis lond we schollen winne And fle at þat þere ben inne. And so we scholen hem teche To speken oure speche." Horn gan hys horn blowe, Þat hys folc it gan knowe. He comen out of scyp sterne, To horn ward wel ȝerne. He smyten and he fouten, Þe nyȝt and eke þe ouȝten. Myd speres hord he stonge, Þe held and eke þe ȝonge. Þat lond he þoru sowten; To deþe he hus brouten Sarazines kende, Þe leuede on þe fende. Horn let sone werchen Chapeles and cherchen; Bellen he dide ryngen, And prestes messe syngen. He sowte hys moder oueralle, Wit inne eueriche walle. This line repeated in the MS. He custen and hye cleten, And in to halle wenten. Croune he gonnen werie, And makede festes merye. Murye he þere wroute; Reymyld hyt aboute. Wile þat horn was oute, Fikenyld ferde aboute. To wiue he gan hire ȝerne; Þe kyng ne dorst him werne. Muche was hys prede; Þe ryche he ȝaf mede, Ȝonge and eke þe helde, Þat Mid hym scholde helde. Ston he dede lede, And hym þerto he made. A kastel he dude feste Wit water alby sette. Miȝt no man hon on legge, By paþe ne by brigge; Bote wan þe wit drowe, Þer munthe come. Þis fykenild ganto wende Written wēnde Reynyld for to wende. Þe day by gan to wexe, Þat hem was by twexe. Fekenyld, her þe day gan springe, Ferde to aylmer þe kynge, After reynyld þe bryȝte, And spousede hire by niȝte. He ledde hyre hom in derke, To his newe werke. Þe festes he by gonne, Here aryse þe sonne. Þat nyȝt gan horn swete, And harde forto mete Of Reymyld hys make, Þat in to schype was take. Þat schip scholde on hire blenche; Hys leman scholde adrenche. Reymyld wit hire honde Wolde suemme to londe. Fykenyld hire ȝen pulte Wit his swerd hylte. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] "Ayol," qwat horn, "trewe felawe, Into schip gonne we drawe. Fykenyld haueþ gon onder, And don Reynyld som wonder. God, for his wordes fiue, To nyȝt us þyder driue." Horn gan to Scype Ride, And his knyȝtes by side. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Here schip bigan to terne By þe wateres sterne. Hys schip stod in store, Honder fikenildes boure. Ne wiste horn on liue Whar he was a Ryue. Þe kestel he ne knewe, For he was so newe. Þe sond by gan to drye, And hyt hym makede weye. He fond stonde arnoldyn, Þat was ayolles cosyn, Þat was þere in tyde, Horn for to abyde. He seyde, "horn, kynges sone, Wel be þou here to londe come. Nou hat wedded fikenyld Þy nowe lemman, Reymyld. Nele ich þe nowt lye; He haueþ þe gyled twye. Þis castel he dude make For Reymyldes sake. Þer may mo man on legge, By paþe neby brigge. Horn, nou crist þe wisse, Of Reymyld þat þou ne misse." Horn her kenede al þe lyste Þat any man of wiste. To herpe he gan drawe, And wyȝt hys tweye felawe, Knyȝtes swyþe felle, And schurde hem in pelle. Wyt swerdes he hem gyrte Anouen here schirte. He wenden on þe grauel Toward þe castel. He gonne murye synge, And makede here glewinge. Þat fykenyld myȝt yhere; Hearkede wat hye were. Men seyde hyt harperes, Iogelours and fiþeleres. He dude hem in lete; At halle dore he sete. Horn set on þe benche; Hys harpe he gan clenche. He makede Reymyld a lay, And reynyld makede weylawey. Reymyld fel yswowe; Þo was þer non þat lowe. Hyt ȝede to hornes herte; Sore hym gan smerte. Hey lokede on hys gode Ryng, And Reymyld þe ȝonge. Hey ȝede op to borde, Mid hys gode swerde. Fykenyldes crowne He leyde þere adowne; And alle hys men arewe He dide adoun þrewe. Þo he weren alle yslawe, Fykenyld he dide to drawe. He makede arnoldyn kyng þere, After þe kyng aylmere, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Þe knytes and þe barnage Dude hym alle utrage. Horn tok rymyld by þe hond, And ledde hire by þe se strond. He tok hym syre aylbrous, Stiward of þe kynges hous. He riuede in a reaume, In a wel fayr streume, Þer kyng mody was syre, Þat horn slow wyt yre. Aybrous he makede þer kyng, For hys gode tydyng; For syre hornes lore, He was kyng þore. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Horn ariuede in hyre londe, Þer he hadde woned so longe. Þer he dude ayol childe Wedden mayden hermenylde. Horn wente to sodenne, To hys owe kunne. Reymyld he makede quene, So ich Miyȝte wel bene. Alle folc hyt knewe Þat he hem louede trewe. Nou ben he alle dede; God hem to heuene lede. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] Am . . . e . . . n. Harl. MS. 2253.

The | corresponds to a sign used in the MS. to mark the divisions between the lines.

Her bygynneþ þe geste of kyng Horn. ¶ Alle heo ben blyþe | þat to my song ylyþe, a song ychulle ou singe | of Allof þe gode kynge. kyng he wes by weste | þe whiles hit yleste, King Murry and his queen, God∣hild, have a son named Horn. ant godylt his gode quene; | no feyrore myhte bene. ant huere sone hihte horn; | feyrore child ne myhte be born. for reyn ne myhte by ryne | ne sonne myhte shyne. feyrore child þen he was, | bryht so euer eny glas, He is mar∣vellously fair and fifteen years old. so whit so eny lylye flour, | so rose red wes his colour. He wes feyr ant eke bold | ant of fyftene wynter old. Nis non his yliche | in none kinges ryche. tueye feren he hadde | þat he wiþ him ladde, Horn has twelve com∣panions. alle richemenne sones, | ant alle suyþe feyre gomes, wyþ him forte pleye. | mest he louede tueye; Þat on wes hoten Athulf chyld, | ant þat oþer Fykenyld. Athulf wes þe beste | ant fykenyld þe werste. Athulf the best, and Fikenhild the worst. Hyt was vpon a someres day, | also ich ou telle may, Allof þe gode kyng | rod vpon ys pleyȝyng bi þe see side, | þer he was woned to ryde. King Murry while riding, finds fifteen ships arrived on the strand. wiþ him ne ryde bote tuo; | al to fewe hue were þo. he fond by þe stronde, | aryued on is londe, shipes fyftene, | of sarazynes kene. he askede whet hue sohten | oþer on is lond brohten. a payen hit yherde | ant sone him onsuerede, "þy lond folk we wolleþ slon | þat euer crist leueþ on; ant þe we wolleþ ryht anon; | shalt þou neuer henne gon." þe kyng lyhte of his stede, | for þo he heuede nede, After a brave defence, the king and his two compan∣ions are slain, ant his gode feren tuo; | mid ywis huem wes ful wo. swerd hy gonne griþe | ant to gedere smyte. hy smyten under shelde, | þat hy somme yfelde. ¶ þe kyng hade to fewe | aȝeyn so monie schrewe. so fele myhten eþe | bringe þre to deþe. and the Sara∣cens begin to waste the land. þe payns come to londe | ant nomen hit an honde. þe folk hy gonne quelle | ant sarazyns to felle. þer ne myhte libbe | þe fremede ne þe sibbe, bote he is lawe forsoke | ant to huere toke. of alle wymmanne | werst wes godyld þanne. for Allof hy wepeþ sore | ant for horn ȝet more. Godhild grieves much, Godild hade so muche sore | þat habbe myhte hue na more. hue wente out of halle, | from hire maidnes alle, vnder a roche of stone. | þer hue wonede al one. but retires alone to a cave, where she continues to observe the Christian religion. þer hue seruede gode, | aȝeyn þe payenes forbode. þer hue seruede crist, | þat þe payenes hit nust. ant euer hue bad for horn child, | þat crist him wrþe myld. ¶ Horn wes in payenes hond, | mid is feren of þe lond. muche wes þe feyrhade | þat ihesu crist him made. payenes him wolde slo | ant summe him wolde flo. The pagans save Horn and his com∣panions on account of Horn's fair∣ness, ȝyf hornes feyrnesse nere, | yslawe þis children were. þo spec on Admyrold, | of wordes he wes swyþe bold, "horn, þou art swyþe kene, | bryht of hewe ant shene; þou art fayr ant eke strong | ant eke eueneliche long. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . .] ȝef þou to lyue mote go, | ant þyne feren also, at the same time with forebodings that if Horn lives, he will take revenge. þat ymay byfalle | þat ȝe shule slen vs alle. þare fore þou shalt to streme go, | þou ant þy feren also. to shipe ȝe shule founde | ant sinke to þe grounde. þe see þe shal adrenche; | ne shal hit vs of þenche. for ȝef þou were alyue, | wiþ suerd oþer wiþ knyue we shulden alle deȝe, | þy fader deþ to beye." þe children ede to þe stronde, | wryngynde huere honde, Grieving sorely, the children are put aboard the boat, ant in to shipes borde | at þe furste worde. ofte hade horn be wo, | ah neuer wors þen him wes þo. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] ¶ þe see bygon to flowen | ant horn faste to rowen ant þat ship wel suyþe drof, | ant horn wes adred þer of, hue wenden mid ywisse | of huere lyue to misse. al þe day ant al þe nyht, | o þat sprong þe day lyht, and the fol∣lowing morn∣ing see land. Flotterede horn by þe stronde, | er he seye eny londe. "feren," quoþ horn þe ȝynge, | "y telle ou tydynge. Ich here foules singe, | ant se þe grases springe. Horn an∣nounces land to his com∣panions. blyþe be ȝe alyue, | vr ship is come to ryue." of shipe hy gonne founde | ant sette fot to grounde. by þe see syde | hure ship bigon to ryde. All disem∣bark, and Horn bids the boat a touching farewell, wishing it 'dayes gode,' þenne spec him child horn, | in sudenne he was yborn, "nou, ship, by þe flode, | haue dayes gode, by þe see brynke | no water þe adrynke. softe mote þou sterye, | þat water þe ne derye. þef þou comest to sudenne, | gret hem þat me kenne. gret wel þe gode | quene godild, mi moder. and charging it with mes∣sages to his mother and friends. ant sey þene heþene kyng, | ihesu cristes wytherlyng, þat ich hol ant fere, | in londe aryuede here. ant say þat he shal fonde | þen deþ of myne honde." ¶ Þe ship bigon to fleoten | ant horn child to weopen. by dales ant by dounes | þe children eoden to tounes. The children set out from the shore and meet King Aylmer, metten hue Eylmer, þe kyng, | crist him ȝeue god tymyng, kyng of westnesse, | c[ri]st him myhte blesse. he spec to horn child | wordes suyþe myld, who greets them kindly and asks their history. "whenne be ȝe gomen, | þat bueþ her a londe ycomen, alle þrettene | of bodye suyþe kene? by god þat me made, | so feyr a felaurade ne seh y neuer stonde | in westnesse Londe. say me whet ȝe seche." | horn spec huere speche. ¶ Horn spac for huem alle, | for so hit moste byfalle; he wes þe wyseste | ant of wytte þe beste. "we bueþ of sudenne, | ycome of gode kenne, Horn tells the king about their adventures, of cristene blode, | of cunne swyþe gode. payenes þer connen aryue | ant cristine brohten of lyue, slowen ant to drowe | cristinemen ynowe. so crist me mote rede, | ous hy duden lede In to a galeye, | wiþ þe see to pleye. day is gon ant oþer | wiþ oute seyl ant roþer. vre ship flet forþ ylome, | ant her to londe hit ys ycome. and bids him do his will with them. Nou þou myht vs slen, ant bynde | oure honde vs bihynde. ah ȝef hit is þi wille, | help vs þat we ne spille." ¶ Þo spac þe gode kyng, | he nes neuer nyþyng, "sey, child, whet is þy name, | shal þe tide bote game." Aylmer asks Horn's name, þe child him onsuerede, | so sone he hit yherde, "Horn ycham yhote, | ycome out of þis bote, from þe see side, | kyng, wel þe bitide." "horn child," quoþ þe kyng, | "wel brouc þou þy nome ȝyng. and learning it, puns upon it, horn him goþ so stille | bi dales ant by hulles. horn haþ loude soune | þurh out vch a toune. predicting that Horn's fame shall spread like the sound of a horn. so shal þi nome springe | from kynge to kynge, ant þi feirnesse | aboute westnesse. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] horn þou art so suete, | ne shal y þe forlete." He then leads Horn home. Hom rod Aylmer þe kyng, | ant horn wiþ him, his fundlyng, ant alle his yfere, | þat him were so duere. þe kyng com in to halle | among his knyhtes alle. The king en∣trusts Horn to Athelbrus, the steward, charging the latter to give Horn full instruction in hunting, fish∣ing, playing the harp, and in serving with the cup. forþ he clepeþ Aþelbrus, | his stiward, ant him seide þus, "stiward, tac þou here | my fundlyng, forto lere of þine mestere, | of wode ant of ryuere, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] and toggen o þe harpe | wiþ is nayles sharpe; and tech him alle þe listes | þat þou euer wystest, byfore me to keruen | ant of my coupe to seruen. ant his feren deuyse | wiþ ous oþer seruise. horn child þou vnderstond, | tech him of harpe ant of song." ¶ Aþelbrus gon leren, | horn ant hyse feren. horn mid herte lahte | al þat mon him tahte. Horn learns readily and becomes a general favourite. wiþ inne court ant wiþ oute | ant oueral aboute, Louede men horn child; | ant most him louede rymenyld, Þe kynges oune dohter, | for he wes in hire þohte. hue louede him in hire mod, | for he wes feir ant eke god. Rymenhild falls passion∣ately in love with him, ant þah hue ne dorste at bord | mid him speke ner a word, ne in þe halle | among þe knyhtes alle, hyre sorewe ant hire pyne | nolde neuer fyne bi daye ne by nyhte, | for hue speke ne myhte wiþ horn þat wes so feir ant fre, | þo hue ne myhte wiþ him be. In herte hue hade care ant wo, | ant þus hue biþohte hire þo. Hue sende hyre sonde | Athelbrus to honde, and sends to Athelbrus. þat he come hue to, | ant also shulde horn do Rymenhild bids Athel∣brus bring Horn to her bower, in to hire boure, | for hue bigon to loure. ant þe sonde sayde | þat seek wes þe mayde, ant bed him come suyþe, | for hue nis nout blyþe. ¶ Þe stiward wes in huerte wo, | for he nuste whet he shulde do. what rymenild bysohte, | gret wonder him þohte, aboute horn þe ȝinge | to boure forte bringe. he þohte on is mode | hit nes for none gode. but he, fear∣ing some evil consequence, akes Athult nstead. he tok wiþ him an oþer, | aþulf, hornes broþer. "Athulf," quoþ he, "ryht anon | þou shalt wiþ me to boure gon, to speke wiþ rymenild stille, | to wyte hyre wille. þou art hornes yliche, | þou shalt hire by suyke; sore me adrede | þat hue wole horn mys rede." Athelbrus ant Athulf bo | to hire boure beþ ygo. Athelbrus and Athulf go to Rymen∣hild's bower, and Rymen∣hild, mistak∣ing Athulf for Horn, embraces him and declares her love. vpon Athulf childe | rymenild con waxe wilde. hue wende horn it were | þat hue hade þere. hue seten adoun stille | ant seyden hure wille. In hire armes tueye | Athulf he con leye. "horn," quoþ he, "wel longe | y haue loued þe stronge; þou shalt þy treuþe plyhte | in myn hond wiþ ryhte, me to spouse welde, | ant ich þe louerd to helde." so stille so hit were | athulf seyde in hire eere, Athulf dis∣closes his identity, and bids her desist. "ne tel þou no more speche, | may, y þe by seche. þi tale gyn þou lynne, | for horn nis nout her ynne. ne be we nout yliche, | for horn is fayr ant ryche, Athulf de∣clares himself in every way inferior to Horn, and his unwillingness to deceive. fayrore by one ribbe | þen ani mon þat libbe. þah horn were vnder molde, | ant oþer elle wher he sholde, hennes a þousent milen, | y nulle him bigilen." ¶ rymenild hire by wente, | ant Athelbrus þus heo shende, "Aþelbrus, þou foule þef, | ne worþest þou me neuer lef. Rymenhild storms at Athelbrus, and drives him from the bower. went out of my boure, | shame þe mote by shoure, ant euel hap to vnderfonge | ant euele rode on to honge. Ne speke y nout wiþ horne, | nis he nout so vnorne. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ¶ Þo Athelbrus astounde | fel aknen to grounde. "ha, leuedy, myn owe, | me lyþe a lutel þrowe, ant list were fore ych wonde | to bringen horn to honde. Athelbrus explains his fears, for horn is fayr ant riche, | nis non his ylyche. Aylmer þe gode kyng | dude him me in lokyng. Ȝif horn þe were aboute, | sore ich myhte doute wiþ him þou woldest pleye | bituene ou seluen tueye. þenne shulde wiþ outen oþe | þe kyng vs make wroþe. Ah, forȝef me þi teone, | my leuedy Ant my quene. but asks Rymenhild's forgiveness, and promises to bring Horn in all events. Rymenhild is glad, and bids him bring Horn as a squire. Horn y shal þe fecche, | wham so hit yrecche." rymenild, ȝef heo couþe, | con lyþe wiþ hyre mouþe. heo loh ant made hire blyþe, | for wel wes hyre olyue. "go þon," quoþ heo, "sone, | ant send him after none, a skuyeres wyse, | when þe king aryse. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] he shal myd me bileue | þat hit be ner eue. haue ich of him mi wille, | ne recchi whet men telle." ¶ Athelbrus goþ wiþ alle; | horn he fond in halle, Athelbrus finds Horn in hall, serving the king. bifore þe kyng o benche, | wyn forte shenche. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] "Horn," quoþ he, "þou hende, | to boure gyn þou wende, He bids him go to Rymen∣hild's bower, at the same time urging him to be discreet. to speke wiþ rymenild þe ȝynge, | dohter oure kynge, wordes suyþe bolde; | þin horte gyn þou holde. Horn, be þou me trewe, | shal þe nout arewe." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] He eode forþ to ryhte | to rymenild þe bryhte. a knewes he him sette | ant suetliche hire grette. Horn greets Rymenhild with fair words. of is fayre syhte | al þat bour gan lyhte. he spac faire is speche; | ne durþ non him teche. "wel þou sitte ant soþte, | rymenild, kinges dohter, ant þy maydnes here | þat sitteþ þyne yfere. Kynges styward oure | sende me to boure, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] forte y here, leuedy myn, | whet be wille þyn." rymenild vp gon stonde | ant tok him by þe honde. She takes Horn by the hand and em∣braces him. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] heo made feyre chere | ant tok him bi þe suere. ofte heo him custe, | so wel hyre luste. "Wel come, horn," þus sayde | rymenild, þat mayde, Rymenhild tells Horn of her love for him, and bids him plight her his troth. "an euen ant a morewe | for þe ich habbe sorewe, þat y haue no reste, | ne slepe me ne lyste. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] Horn, þou shalt wel swyþe | mi longe serewe lyþe; þou shalt wyþ-oute striue | habbe me to wyue. horn, haue of me reuþe, | ant plyht me þi treuþe." ¶ horn þo him byþohte | whet he speken ohte. "crist," quoþ horn, "þe wisse, | ant ȝeue þe heuene blisse Horn urges his low birth and foundling state in ob∣jection. of þine hosebonde, | who he be a londe. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ich am ybore þral, | þy fader fundlyng wiþ-al. of kunde me ne felde | þe to spouse welde. Hit nere no fair weddyng | bituene a þral ant þe kyng." þo gon rymenild mis lyken, | ant sore to syken crossed out after sore. bigon to syken. armes bigon vnbowe, | ant doun heo fel y swowe. Rymenhild swoons when she hears Horn's reply. Horn hire vp hente | ant in is armes trente. he gon hire to cusse, | ant feyre forte wisse. "rymenild," quoþ he, "duere, | help me þat ych were Horn caresses her, and pro∣mises that if she will help him to be∣come dubbed knight, he will do her will. Ydobbed to be knyhte, | suete, bi al þi myhte to mi louerd þe kyng, | þat he me ȝeue dobbyng. þenne is my þralhede | al wend in to knyhthede. y shal waxe more | ant do, rymenild, þi lore." Þo rymenild þe ȝynge | a-ros of hire swowenynge. "Nou, horn, to soþe, | y leue þe by þyn oþe, Rymenhild promises Horn that he shall be made knight within a fortnight, þou shalt be maked knyht | er þen þis fourteniht. ber þou her þes coppe, | ant þes ringes þer vppe, to Athelbrus þe styward, | ant say him he holde foreward. Sey ich him biseche, | wiþ loueliche speche, and tells him to bid Athel∣brus fall on his knees be∣fore the king, in his behalf. þat he for þe falle | to þe kynges fet in halle, þat he wiþ is worde | þe knyhty wiþ sworde. wiþ seluer ant wiþ golde | hit worþ him wel yȝolde. nou crist him lene spede | þin erndyng do bede." Horn seeks out Athelbrus and tells his errand. ¶ Horn tok is leue, | for hit wes neh eue. Athelbrus he sohte | ant tok him þat he brohte, ant tolde him þare | hou he hede yfare. he seide him is nede, | ant him bihet is mede. Athelbrus so blyþe | eode in to halle swyþe, Athelbrus goes before the king in hall, and urges him to knight Horn at the feast the following day. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ant seide, "kyng, nou leste | o tale mid þe beste. þou shalt bere coroune | to marewe in þis toune. to marewe is þi feste; | þe bihoueþ geste. Ich þe rede mid al my myht | þat þou make horn knyht. þin armes do him welde; | god knyht he shal þe ȝelde." þe kyng seide wel sone, | "hit is wel to done. The king accedes to the request, and promises that Horn and his twelve com∣panions shall be knighted. Horn me wel quemeþ; | knyht him wel bysemeþ. He shal haue mi dobbyng | ant be myn oþer derlyng. ant hise feren tuelue | he shal dobbe him selue. alle y shal hem knyhte | byfore me to fyhte." al þat þe lyhte day sprong | aylmere þohte long. þe day bigon to springe; | horn com byfore þe kynge, On the mor∣row, Horn with his twelve com∣panions pre∣sents himself before king Aylmer, and the king sets him on a red steed and dubs him knight. Athulf falls on his knees, and asks that Horn may dub him and the other companions. wiþ his tuelf fere; | alle þer ywere. Horn knyht made he | wiþ ful gret solempnite, Sette him on a stede | red so eny glede, Smot him a lute wiht, | ant bed him buen a god knyht. Athulf vel a kne þer | ant þonkede kyng Aylmer. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ¶ "Nou is knyht sire horn | þat in Sudenne wes yborn. Lord he is of londe | ant of vs þat by him stonde. þin armes he haueþ ant þy sheld, | forte fyhte in þe feld. Let him vs alle knyhte, | so hit is his ryhte." Aylmer seide ful ywis, | "nou do þat þi wille ys." Horn adoun con lyhte | ant made hem alle to knyhte, Horn knights his twelve companions. for muchel wes þe geste | ant more wes þe feste. þat rymenild nes nout þere | hire þohte seue ȝere. Rymenhild becomes im∣patient and sends for Horn. He takes Athulf as companion. efter horn hue sende; | horn in to boure wende. He nolde gon is one; | Athulf wes hys ymone. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ¶ rymenild welcomeþ sire horn, | ant aþulf knyht him biforn. Rymenhild bids Horn fulfil his share of the compact by marrying her. "knyht, nou is tyme | forto sitte byme. do nou þat we spake; | to þi wyf þou me take. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] Nou þou hast wille þyne, | vnbynd me of þis pyne." "rymenild, nou be stille, | ichulle don al þy wille. Horn replies that it is the custom for a knight to fight for his leman with some other knight, ah her hit so bitide, | mid spere ichulle ryde ant my knyhthod proue, | er þen ich þe wowe. we bueþ nou knyhtes ȝonge, | alle to day yspronge, ant of þe mestere | hit is þe manere, wiþ sum oþer knyhte | for his lemmon to fyþte, er ne he eny wyf take | oþer wyþ wymmon forewart make. to day, so crist me blesse, | y shal do pruesse, and promises that after he has accom∣plished an act of prowess, he will make her his wife. for þi loue mid shelde | amiddewart þe felde. ȝef ich come to lyue | ychul þe take to wyue." "knyht, y may yleue þe, | why aut þou trewe be. ¶ Haue her þis goldring; | hit is ful god to þi dobbyng. Rymenhild gives Horn a ring, which she bids him wear for her love, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ygraued is on þe rynge, | 'rymenild þy luef þe ȝynge.' nis non betere vnder sonne | þat enymon of conne. For mi loue þou hit were, | ant on þy fynger þou hit bere. þe ston haueþ suche grace, | ne shalt þou in none place and which will protect him if he will look on it and think of her. deþ vnderfonge, | ne buen yslaye wiþ wronge, ȝef þou lokest þeran | ant þenchest o þi lemman. ant sire aþulf, þi broþer, | he shal han en oþer. Horn, crist y þe byteche, | mid mourninde speche. She then mournfully prays for Christ's bless∣ing on Horn's undertaking. crist þe ȝeue god endyng, | ant sound aȝeyn þe brynge." þe knyht hire gan to cusse, | ant rymenild him to blesse. leue at hyre he nom, | ant in to halle he com. Horn takes leave, arms himself, mounts his black steed, and sets out in search of adventure. knyhtes eode to table, | ant horn eode to stable, þer he toc his gode fole, | blac so euer eny cole. wiþ armes he him sredde, | ant is fole he fedde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] þe fole bigon to springe | ant horn murie to synge. Horn rod one whyle | wel more þen a myle. he seh a shyp at grounde, | wiþ heþene hounde. He finds at the seashore a ship filled with Sara∣cens, and asks their purpose. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] He askede wet hue hadden, | oþer to londe ladden. an hound him gan biholde, | ant spek wordes bolde. "þis land we wolleþ wynne, | ant sle þat þer bueþ inne." Horn gan is swerd gripe, | ant on is arm hit wype. Horn slays the Saracen leader, and then, after þe sarazyn he hitte so, | þat is hed fel to ys to. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] þo gonne þe houndes gone | aȝeynes horn ys one. He Lokede on is rynge, | ant þohte o rymenyld þe ȝynge. looking on his ring, slays a hun∣dred more. he sloh þer of þe beste | an houndred at þe leste. ne mihte no mon telle | alle þat he gon quelle. of þat þer were o ryue | he lafte lut o lyue. ¶ Horn tok þe maister heued, | þat he him hade byreued, Horn fixes the leader's head on the point of his sword, and bears it before the king. ant sette on is suerde, | abouen o þen orde. he ferde hom to halle, | among þe knyhtes alle, "Kyng," quoþ he, "wel þou sitte, | ant þine knyhtes mitte. to day ich rod o my pleyyng, | after my dobbyng, Horn relates his adven∣ture. y fond a ship rowen, | in þe sound byflowen, Mid vnlondisshe menne, | of sarazynes kenne, to deþe forte pyne | þe ant alle þyne. hy gonne me asayly. | swerd me nolde fayly; y smot hem alle to grounde | in a lutel stounde. þe heued ich þe bringe | of þe maister kynge. nou haue ich þe ȝolde | þat þou me knyhten woldest." þe day bigon to springe, | þe kyng rod on hontynge King Aylmar goes hunting. to þe wode wyde, | ant Fykenyld bi is syde, þa fals wes ant vntrewe, | whose him wel yknewe. ¶ Horn ne þohte nout him on, | ant to boure wes ygon. he fond rymenild sittynde | ant wel sore wepynde, Horn pro∣ceeds to Ry∣menhild's bower, and finds her weeping. so whyt so þe sonne, | mid terres al byronne. Horn seide, "luef, þyn ore, | why wepest þou so sore?" Hue seide, "ich nout ne wepe, | ah y shal er y slepe. me þohte o my metyng, | þat ich rod ofysshyng. She tells him her dream, how a great fish broke her net. to see my net ycaste, | ant wel fer hit laste. a gret fyssħ at þe ferste | my net made berste. þat fyssħ me so bycahte, | þat y nout ne lahte. y wene y shal forleose | þe fyssħ þat y wolde cheose." ¶ "Crist ant seinte steuene," | quoþ horn, "areche þy sweuene. Horn com∣forts her. no shal y þe byswyke, | ne do þat þe mis lyke. ich take þe myn owe, | to holde ant eke to knowe, for eueruch oþer wyhte; | þerto my trouþe y plyhte." Horn plights his troth to Rymenhild, but both weep and forebode evil from the dream. wel muche was þe reuþe | þat wes at þilke treuþe. rymenild wep wel ylle, | ant horn let terres stille. "Lemmon," quoþ he, "dere, | þou shalt more yhere. þy sweuen shal wende; | summon vs wole shende. þat fyssħ þat brac þy net, | ywis it is sumwet þat wol vs do sum teone; | ywys hit worþ ysene." ¶ Aylmer rod by stoure, | ant horn wes yne boure. Fykenild hade enuye | ant seyde þeose folye:— Fykenhild tells the king that Horn is plotting to kill him and to marry Rymenhild. "Aylmer, ich þe werne, | horn þe wole forberne. Ich herde wher he seyde, | ant his suerd he leyde, to brynge þe of lyue | ant take rymenyld to wyue. He Lyht nou in Boure, | vnder couertoure, by rymenyld, þy dohter; | ant so he doþ wel ofte. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] do him out of londe, | er he do more shonde." ¶ Aylmer gan hom turne, | wel mody ant wel sturne. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] he fond horn vnder arme, | in rymenyldes barme. Aylmar finds Horn in Ry∣menhild's embrace, and bids him leave the land at once. "go out," quoþ aylmer, þe kyng, | "Horn, þou foule fundlyng. forþ out of boures flore, | for rymenild, þin hore. wend out of londe sone; | her nast þou nout to done. wel sone bote þou flette, | myd suert y shal þe sette." Horn eode to stable, | wel modi for þat fable. he sette sadel on stede, | wiþ armes he gon him shrede. Horn saddles his horse, arms himself, and then visits Rymen∣hild. his brunie he con lace, | so he shulde, in to place. his suerd he gon fonge; | ne stod he nout to longe. to is suerd he gon teon; | ne durste non wel him seon. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] He seide, "lemmon, derlyng, | nou þou hauest þy sweuenyng. He tells her that her dream has come true, þe fyssħ þat þyn net rende, | from þe me he sende. þe kyng wiþ me gynneþ striue; | a wey he wole me dryue. þare fore haue nou godneday; | nou y mot fonnde ant fare away that he is going to an unknown country for seven years. In to vncouþe londe, | wel more forte fonde. y shal wonie þere | fulle seue ȝere. at þe seueȝeres ende, | ȝyf y ne come ne sende, tac þou hosebonde, | for me þat þou no wonde. He bids her not to await him longer than seven years. In armes þou me fonge, | ant cus me swyþe longe." hy custen hem a stounde, | ant rymenyld fel to grounde. ¶ Horn toc his leue; | he myhte nout byleue. Rymenhild faints. He toc Aþulf, is fere, | aboute þe swere, ant seide, "knyht so trewe, | kep wel loue newe. Horn en∣trusts his 'new love' to Athulf. þou neuer ne forsoke | rymenild to kepe ant loke." his stede he bigan stryde, | ant forþ he con hym ryde. Aþulf wep wiþ eyȝen, | ant alle þat hit yseyȝen. Horn forþ him ferde; | a god ship he him herde, He sets sail. Þat him shulde passe | out of westnesse. Þe wynd bigon to stonde, | ant drof hem vp o londe. to londe þat hy fletten; | fot out of ship hy setten. Horn reaches land. he fond bi þe weye, | kynges sones tueye; He meets two princes, Harild and Berild. Þat on wes hoten Aþyld, | ant þat oþer beryld. beryld hym con preye | þat he shulde seye what he wolde þere, | ant what ys nome were. ¶ "Godmod," he seid, "ich hote, | ycomen out of þis bote, He gives his name as Cut∣berd (God∣mod), wel fer from by weste, | to seche myne beste." beryld con ner him ryde, | ant toc him bi þe bridel. "wel be þou, knyht, yfounde; | wiþ me þou lef a stounde. also ich mote sterue, | þe kyng þou shalt serue. and is con∣ducted by the princes before the king. ne seh y neuer a lyue | so feir knyht her aryue." godmod he ladde to halle, | ant he adoun gan falle, Ant sette him a knelyng, | ant grette þene gode kyng. Cutberd greets the king. þo saide beryld wel sone, | "kyng, wiþ him þou ast done. þi lond tac him to werie; | ne shal þe nomon derye, Berild asks that he be taken into the king's service. for he is þe feyreste man | þat euer in þis londe cam." ¶ þo seide þe kyng wel dere, | "welcome þe þou here. go, beryld, wel swyþe, | ant make hym wel blyþe, The king welcomes Cutberd. ant when þou farest to wowen, | tac him þine glouen. þer þou hast munt to wyue, | a wey he shal þe dryue; for godmodes feyrhede | shalt þou no wer spede." hit wes at cristesmasse, | nouþer more ne lasse. At the Christ∣mas feast a giant ap∣pears. þe kyng made feste, | of his knyhtes beste. þer com in at none, | a geaunt suyþe sone, y-armed of paynyme, | ant seide þise ryme:— The giant proclaims a challenge. "Site, kyng, bi kynge, | ant herkne my tidynge. her bueþ paynes aryue, | wel more þen fyue. her beþ vpon honde, | kyng, in þine londe. on þer of wol fyhte | to ȝeynes þre knyhtes. One pagan will fight any three in the land, the combat to determine who shall possess the land. King Thur∣ston names Cutberd (God∣mod), Harild and Berild as the three defenders. ȝef oure þre sleh oure on, | we shulen of ore londe gon; ȝef vre on sleh oure þre, | al þis lond shal vre be. to morewe shal be þe fyhtynge, | at þe sonne vpspringe." ¶ þo seyde þe kyng þurston, | "godmod shal be þat on; beryld shal be þat oþer; | þe þridde, Aþyld, is broþer. for hue bueþ strongeste, | ant in armes þe beste. ah, wat shal vs to rede? | y wene we bueþ dede." Godmod set at borde, | ant seide þeose wordes:— "sire kyng, nis no ryhte, | on wiþ þre fyhte, Cutberd says that it were shame for three Chris∣tians to fight against one pagan, and offers to fight alone. aȝeynes one hounde, | þre cristene to founde. ah, kyng, y shal alone, | wiþ-oute more ymone, wiþ my suerd ful eþe | bringen hem alle to deþe." þe kyng aros amorewe; | he hade muche sorewe. godmod ros of bedde; | wiþ armes he him shredde. He arms himself, his brunye he on caste, | ant knutte hit wel faste, ant com him to þe kynge, | at his vp rysynge. visits the king, "kyng," quoþ he, "com to felde, | me forte byhelde, hou we shule flyten | ant to gedere smiten." and with him rides to the combat. ¶ riht at prime tide, | hy gonnen out to ryde. hy fonnden in a grene, | a geaunt swyþe kene, his feren him biside, | þat day forto abyde. Godmod hem gon asaylen; | nolde he nout faylen. Cutberd strikes so hard, that the giant asks for a breath∣ing spell, and says he has never before experi∣enced such blows, save at the hand of King Murry. he ȝef duntes ynowe; | þe payen fel y swowe. ys feren gonnen hem wiþ drawe, | for huere maister wes neh slawe. he seide, "knyht, þou reste | a whyle, ȝef þe leste. y ne heuede ner of monnes hond | so harde duntes in non lond, bote of þe kyng Murry, | þat wes swiþe sturdy. he wes of hornes kenne; | y sloh him in sudenne." ¶ Godmod him gon agryse, | ant his blod aryse. Horn is en∣raged, and renews the fight. byforen him he seh stonde | þat drof him out of londe, ant fader his a-quelde; | he smot him vnder shelde. he lokede on is rynge, | ant þohte o rymenild þe ȝynge. Cutberd looks on his ring, then smites the glant through the heart. mid god suerd at þe furste, | he smot him þourh þe huerte. þe payns bigonne to fleon, | ant to huere shype teon. to ship hue wolden erne; | godmod hem con werne. The pagans flee to their ship. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] þe kynges sones tweyne | þe paiens slowe beyne. The king's sons are slain, but Cutherd annihilates the pagan host, þo wes Godmod swyþe wo, | ant þe payens he smot so, þat in a lutel stounde | þe paiens hy felle to grounde. godmod ant is men | slowe þe payenes eueruchen. his fader deþ ant ys lond | awrek godmod wiþ his hond. thus aveng∣ing his fa∣ther's death. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] þe kyng wiþ reuþful chere | lette leggen is sones on bere, The king mourns. ant bringen hom to halle; | muche sorewe hue maden alle. in a chirche of lym ant ston | me buriede hem wiþ ryche won. ¶ Þe kyng lette forþ calle | hise knyhtes alle, ant seide, "godmod, ȝef þou nere, | alle ded we were, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He offers to make Horn (Cutberd) his heir, and to give him his daughter Reynild. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] þou art boþe god ant feyr; | her y make þe myn heyr; for my sones bueþ yflawe, | ant ybroht of lyfdawe. dohter ich habbe one; | nys non so feyr of blod ant bone. This line was at first left out by the scribe, and then written in the margin of the MS. (Ermenild, þat feyre may, | bryht so eny someres day,) hire wolle ich ȝeue þe, | ant her kyng shalt þou be." he seyde, "more ichul þe serue, | kyng, er þen þou sterue. Cutberd de∣clines, but offers to continue in the king's service. when y þy dohter ȝerne, | heo ne shal me noþyng werne." ¶ godmod wonede þere | fulle six ȝere; [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ant þe seueþe ȝer bygon; | to rymynyld, sonde ne sende he non. During seven years he does not commu∣nicate with Rymenhild. rymenyld wes in westnesse, | wiþ muchel sorewenesse. a kyng þer wes aryue, | ant wolde hyre han to wyue. at one were þe kynges, | of þat weddynge. A king sues for Rymen∣hild. þe dayes were so sherte, | ant rymenild ne derste latten on none wyse. | a wryt hue dude deuyse; Aþulf hit dude wryte, | þat horn ne louede nout lyte. Athulf writes a letter to Horn. hue sende hire sonde | in to eueruche londe, to sechen horn knyhte, | whe so er me myhte. Horn þer of nout herde, | til, o day þat he ferde Horn, while hunting, meets a page, who says that he is seeking Horn, to wode forte shete, | a page he gan mete. Horn seide, "leue fere, | whet dest þou nou here?" "Sire, in lutel spelle | y may þe sone telle. Ich seche from westnesse, | horn, knyht, of estnesse, For rymenild, þat feyre may, | soreweþ for him nyht ant day. and that Ry∣menhild is to marry King Mody of Reynes, on Sunday. A kyng hire shal wedde, | a sonneday to bedde, Kyng Mody of reynis, | þat is hornes enimis. ich habbe walked wyde | by þe see side. ne mihte ich him neuer cleche, | wiþ nones kunnes speche, The messen∣ger laments that he can∣not find Horn. ne may ich of him here | in londe fer no nere. weylawey þe while, | him may hente gyle." ¶ Horn hit herde wiþ earen, | ant spec wiþ wete tearen, "So wel, grom, þe bitide, | horn stond by þi syde, Horn dis∣closes his identity, and sends word to Ry∣menhild that he will come Sunday be∣fore 'prime.' aȝeyn to rymenild turne, | ant sey þat hue ne murne. y shal be þer bi time, | a sonneday er prime." þe page wes wel blyþe | ant shipede wel suyþe. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] þe see him gon adrynke; | þat rymenil may of þinke. The mes∣senger is drowned, and Rymen∣hild looks for him in vain. þe [see] him con ded þrowe | vnder hire chambre wowe. rymenild lokede wide | by þe see syde, ȝef heo seȝe horn come, | oþer tidynge of eny gome. Rymenhild grieves when she finds the drowned messenger. þo fond hue hire sonde | adronque by þe stronde, þat shulde horn brynge; | hire hondes gon hue wrynge. ¶ Horn com to þurston þe kynge, | ant tolde him þes tidynge. Horn dis∣closes his identity to King Thur∣ston ant þo he was biknowe, | þat rymenild wes ys owe, ant of his gode kenne, | þe kyng of sudenne, ant hou he sloh afelde | him þat is fader aquelde, ant seide, "kyng so wyse, | ȝeld me my seruice. and asks his pay and also aid to win Rymenhild. rymenild, help me to wynne, | swyþe þat þou ne blynne, ant y shal do to house | þy dohter wel to spouse, He promises that Athulf shall marry Thurston's daughter. for hue shal to spouse haue | Aþulf, my gode felawe. he is knyht mid þe beste, | ant on of þe treweste." þe kyng seide so stille, | "horn, do al þi wille." The king consents. he sende þo by sonde, | ȝend al is londe, after knyhtes to fyhte, | þat were men so lyhte. Horn levies men, and sets sail. to him come ynowe, | þat in to shipe drowe. ¶ Horn dude him in þe weye, | in a gret galeye. þe wynd bigon to blowe | in a lutel þrowe. þe see bi-gan wiþ ship to gon, | to westnesse hem brohte anon. He arrives after the bells for the wed∣ding have been rung. hue striken seyl of maste, | ant ancre gonnen caste. matynes were yronge | ant þe masse ysonge, of rymenild þe ȝynge | ant of Mody þe kynge, ant horn wes in watere; | ne mihte he come no latere. He leaves his ship, and comes to land. He let is ship stonde, | ant com him vp to londe. His folk he made abyde | vnder a wode syde. ¶ Horn eode forh al one, | so he sprong of þe stone. Horn sets forth alone, and meets a palmer, on palmere he y-mette, | ant wiþ wordes hyne grette, "palmere, þou shalt me telle," | he seyde, "of þine spelle, so brouke þou þi croune, | why comest þou from toune?" ant he seide on is tale, | "y come from a brudale, who tells him of the wed∣ding from brudale wylde | of maide remenylde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ne mihte hue nout dreȝe | þat hue ne wep wiþ eȝe. and of Ry∣menhild's grief. hue seide, 'þat hue nolde | be spoused wiþ golde; hue hade hosebonde | þah he were out of londe.' ich wes in þe halle, | wiþ-inne þe castel walle. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] a wey y gon glide; | þe dole y nolde abyde. þer worþ a dole reuly; | þe brude wepeþ bitterly." quoþ horn, "so crist me rede, | we wolleþ chaunge wede. Horn changes clothes with the palmer, tac þou robe myne, | ant ȝe sclaueyn þyne. to day y shal þer drynke, | þat summe hit shal of-þynke." sclaueyn he gon doun legge, | ant horn hit dude on rugge, ant toc hornes cloþes, | þat nout him were loþe. ¶ Horn toc bordoun ant scrippe, | ant gan to wrynge is lippe. and blackens his face and neck with coal. he made foule chere, | ant bicollede is swere. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] he com to þe ȝateward, | þat him onsuerede froward. The gate∣keeper for∣bids Horn entrance. horn bed vn-do wel softe, | moni tyme ant ofte. ne myhte he ywynne | forto come þer-ynne. horn þe wyket puste, | þat hit open fluste. Horn breaks through the wicket, after having thrown the gate-keeper over the bridge. þe porter shulde abugge; | he þrew him a-doun þe brugge, þat þre ribbes crakede. | horn to halle rakede, ant sette him doun wel lowe, | in þe beggeres rowe. he lokede aboute, | myd is collede snoute. þer seh he rymenild sitte | ase hue were out of wytte, He sees Rymenhild weeping, but looks in vain for Athulf. wepinde sore; | ah he seh nower þore [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] Aþulf is gode felawe, | þat trewe wes in vch plawe. ¶ Aþulf wes o tour ful heh, | to loke fer ant eke neh Athulf from the tower watches in vain for Horn. after hornes comynge, | ȝef water him wolde brynge. þe see he seh flowe, | ah horn nower rowe. he seyde on is songe, | "horn, þou art to longe. In his solio∣quy he says that Horn will be too late. rymenild þou me bitoke, | þat ich hire shulde loke. Ich haue yloked euere, | ant þou ne comest neuere." [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] Rymenild ros of benche, | þe beer al forte shenche, Rymenhild bears wine and beer to the guests. after mete in sale, | boþe wyn ant ale. an horn hue ber an honde, | for þat wes lawe of londe. hue dronc of þe beere, | to knyht ant skyere. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] horn set at grounde; | him þohte he wes y-bounde. ¶ he seide, "quene so hende, | to me hydeward þou wende. Horn asks Rymenhild to serve the beggars. þou shenh vs wiþ þe vurste; | þe beggares bueþ afurste." hyre horn hue leyde a doune, | ant fulde him of þe broune, Rymenhild fills a gallon bowl with brown beer, and offers it to Horn. a bolle of a galoun; | hue wende he were a glotoun. hue seide, "tac þe coppe, | ant drync þis ber al vppe. ne seh y neuer, y wene, | beggare so kene." horn toc hit hise yfere, | ant seide, "quene so dere, He refuses it, saying that he will have nothing 'bote of coppe white,' and that he is no beggar, but a fisher. no beer nullich i bite, | bote of coppe white. þou wenest ich be a beggere; | ywis icham a fysshere, wel fer come by weste, | to seche mine bestee. Min net lyht her wel hende, | wiþ-inne a wel feyr pende. Ich haue leye þere, | nou is þis þe seueþe ȝere. Horn further alludes to her dream of the fish net, and bids her 'drynke to horn of horne.' Rymenhild looks at him and trembles, not fully com∣prehending his meaning. She fills the horn with wine and bids him drink his fill, and then tell her if he knows aught of Horn. Horn drinks, then throws the ring in the horn. Icham icome to loke | ȝef eny fyssħ hit toke. ȝef eny fyssħ is þer-inne, | þer-of þou shalt wynne. For icham come to fyssħ, | drynke nully of dyssħ. drynke to horn of horne; | wel fer ich haue y-orne." ¶ Rymenild him gan bihelde; | hire herte fel to kelde. ne kneu hue noht is fysshyng, | ne him selue noþyng. ah wonder hyre gan þynke, | why for horn he bed drynke. hue fulde þe horn of wyne, | ant dronk to þat pelryne. hue seide, "drync þi felle, | ant seþþen þou me telle ȝef þou horn euer seȝe | vnder wode leȝe." ¶ Horn dronc of horn a stounde, | ant þreu is ryng to grounde, ant seide, "quene, þou þench | what y þreu in þe drench." Rymenhild goes to her bower, and finds the ring. þe quene eode to boure, | mid hire maidnes foure. hue fond þat hue wolde, | þe ryng ygraued of golde, þat horn of hyre hedde. | fol sore hyre adredde þat horn ded were, | for his ryng was þere. þo sende hue a damoisele | after þilke palmere. She sends for the palmer, and inquires where he got the ring. "palmere," quoþ hue, "so trewe, | þe ryng þat þou yn þrewe, þou sey wer þou hit nome, | ant hyder hou þou come." he seyde, "by seint gyle, | ich eode mony a myle, wel fer ȝent by weste, | to seche myne beste, Mi mete forte bydde, | for so me þo bitidde. ich fond horn knyht stonde, | to shipeward at stronde. he seide he wolde gesse | to aryue at westnesse. He continues to relate how Horn, on ship board, fell ill and died, and how Horn charged him to bear the ring to Ry∣menhild. The princess raves with grief, and at∣tempts to slay herself with a knife, but is prevented by Horn, who then wipes away the black from his face. þe ship nom in to flode, | wiþ me ant horn þe gode. Horn by-gan be sek ant deȝe, | ant for his loue me preȝe to gon wiþ þe rynge, | to rymenild þe ȝynge. wel ofte he hyne keste, | crist ȝeue is soule reste." ¶ Rymenild seide at þe firste, | "herte, nou to berste. horn worþ þe no more, | þat haueþ þe pyned sore." Hue fel adoun a bedde, | ant after knyues gredde, to slein mide hire kyng loþe, | ant hire selue boþe. wiþ-inne þilke nyhte, | come ȝef horn ne myhte. to herte knyf hue sette, | horn in is armes hire kepte. his shurte lappe he gan take, | ant wypede a wey þe foule blake Þat wes opon his suere, | ant seide, "luef so dere, Horn tells who he is, and bids Rymenhild kiss him. ne const þou me yknowe? | ne am ich horn þyn owe? Ich, horn of westnesse; | in armes þou me kesse." yclupten ant kyste | so longe so hem lyste. After fond embraces, he tells he that he has armed men by the 'wodes ende,' who will prevent the wedding. "Rymenild," quoþ he, "ich wende | doun to þe wodes ende, for þer bueþ myne knyhte, | worþi men ant lyhte, armed vnder cloþe; | hue shule make wroþe þe kyng ant hise gestes | þat bueþ at þise festes. to day ychulle huem cacche, | nou ichulle huem vacche." ¶ Horn sprong out of halle; | ys brunie he let falle. He leaves the bower, and Rymen∣hild sets out in search of Athulf. rymenild eode of boure; | aþulf hue fond loure. "aþulf, be wel blyþe, | ant to horn go swyþe. he is vnder wode bowe, | wiþ felawes ynowe." Athulf goes to find Horn, and embraces him. Aþulf gon froth springe, | for þat ilke tydynge. efter horn he ernde; | him þohte is herte bernde. he oftok him ywisse, | ant custe him wiþ blysse. horn tok is preye | ant dude him in þe weye. Horn, with his armed men, breaks into the hall and slays many of the guests, hue comen in wel sone, | þe ȝates weren vndone; y-armed suiþe þicke | from fote to þe nycke. alle þat þer euere weren, | wiþ-oute is trewe feren ant þe kyng aylmare, | ywis he hade muche care. but he does not under∣stand Fiken∣hild's treach∣ery, for all deny the treason. monie þat þer sete, | hure lyf hy gonne lete. Horn vnderstondyng ne hede | of Fykeles falssede. Hue suoren alle, ant seyde, | þat hure non him wreyede ant suore oþes holde | þat huere non ne sholde All swear that they have not betrayed Horn. Horn neuer bytreye, | þah he on deþe leye. þer hy ronge þe belle, | þat wedlake to fulfulle. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] hue wenden hom wiþ eyse, | to þe kynges paleyse. The wedding is celebrated in the king's palace. þer wes þe brudale suete, | for richemen þer ete. telle ne mihte no tonge | þe gle þat þer was songe. ¶ Horn set in chayere, | ant bed hem alle yhere. he seyde, "kyng of londe, | mi tale þou vnderstonde. Horn ad∣dresses the king, and begins to recount his history. Ich wes ybore in sudenne; | kyng wes mi fader of kenne. þou me to knyhte houe; | of knythod habbe y proue. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] þou dryue me out of þi lond, | ant seydest ich wes traytour strong. Horn ex∣plains to the king his inno∣cence, þou wendest þat ich wrohte | þat y ner ne þohte, by rymenild forte lygge; | ywys ich hit wiþsugge. Ne shal ich hit ner agynne, | er ich sudenne wynne. and says that he will not take Rymen∣hild to wife until he has regained his kingdom of Sudenne. þou kep hyre me a stounde, | þe while þat ich founde In to myn heritage, | wiþ þis yrisshe page. þat lond ichulle þorhreche, | ant do mi fader wreche. ychul be kyng of toune, | ant lerne kynges roune. þenne shal rymenild þe ȝynge | ligge by horn þe kynge." He sets sail with Athulf and his Irish companions, and has a favouring wind. ¶ Horn gan to shipe drawe, | wiþ hyse yrisshe felawe. Aþulf wiþ him, his broþer, | he nolde habbe non oþer. þe ship by-gan to croude; | þe wynd bleu wel loude. wyþ-inne dawes fyue | þe ship began aryue. They reach Sudenne within five days. vnder sudennes side | huere ship by-gon to ryde, aboute þe midnyhte. | horn eode wel rihte; he nom aþulf by honde, | ant ede vp to londe. Horn and Athulf land, and find a goodly knight sleeping by the wayside. hue fonden vnder shelde, | a knyht liggynde on felde. o þe shelde wes ydrawe | a croyz of ihesu cristes lawe. þe knyht him lay on slape, | in armes wel yshape. ¶ Horn him gan ytake, | ant seide, "knyht, awake. þou sei me whet þou kepest, | ant here whi þou slepest! Horn bids him tell his business, under pain of death. me þuncheþ, by crois liste, | þat þou leuest on criste; bote þou hit wolle shewe, | my suerd shal þe to-hewe." þe gode knyht vp aros; | of hornes wordes him agros. he seide, "ich seruy ille | paynes, toȝeynes mi wille. The knight says that he serves the Saracens against his will, and tells how the Saracens invaded the land and slew King Murry. Ich was cristene sum while; | y come in to þis yle. Sarazyns loþe ant blake | me made ihesu forsake, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] to loke þis passage | for horn þat is of age, þat woneþ her by weste, | god knyht mid þe beste. hue slowe mid huere honde, | þe kyng of þisse londe, ant wiþ him mony honder. | þer fore me þuncheþ wonder He wonders that Horn does not re∣turn to avenge his fa∣ther's death. þat he ne comeþ to fyhte; | god ȝeue him þe myhte, þat wynd him hider dryue, | to don hem alle of lyue. ant slowen kyng mury | hornes cunesmon hardy. Horn, of londe hue senten; | tuelf children wiþ him wenten. wiþ hem wes aþulf þe gode, | mi child, myn oune fode. He continues to tell how his son, Ath∣ulf, is Horn's faithful com∣panion. ȝef horn is hol ant sounde, | aþulf tit no wounde. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] he louede horn wiþ mihte, | ant he him wiþ ryhte. ȝef y myhte se hem tueye, | þenne ne rohti forte deye." ¶ "knyht, be þenne blyþe, | mest of alle syþe. The two make themselves known, and a joyful scene of recognition follows. The old knight in∣forms Horn that his mo∣ther, the queen God∣hild, still lives. Aþulf, ant horn is fere, | boþe·we beþ here." þe knyht to horn gan skippe, | ant in his armes clippe. Muche ioye hue maden yfere, | þo hue to gedere y-come were." [lf. 91, bk.] He saide wiþ steuene þare, | "ȝungemen, hou habbe ȝe ȝore yfare? wolle ȝe þis lond wynne, | ant wonie þer ynne?" he seide, "suete horn child, | ȝet lyueþ þy moder godyld. of ioie hue ne miste, | o lyue ȝef hue þe wiste." Horn in∣forms the old knight that he has with him many Irish com∣panions. Horn seide on is ryme, | "yblessed be þe time Icham icome in to sudenne, | wiþ fele yrisshemenne. we shule þe houndes kecche, | ant to þe deȝe vecche. ánt so we shulen hem teche | to speken oure speche." ¶ Horn gon is horn blowe; | is folc hit con yknowe. Horn blows his horn, and his men arrive; and they at∣tack and slay the Saracens, old and young. Then Horn causes cha∣pels and churches to be built. hue comen out of hurne, | to horn swyþe ȝurne. hue smiten ant hue fyhten, | þe niht ant eke þe ohtoun. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] þe sarazyns hue slowe, | ant summe quike to drowe. mid speres ord hue stonge | þe olde ant eke þe ȝonge. ¶ Horn lette sone wurche | boþe chapel ant chyrche. He made belle rynge, | ant prestes masse synge. Horn causes the bells to be rung and masses to be celebrated. He sohte is moder halle, | in þe roche walle. He custe hire ant grette, | ant in to þe castel fette. Croune he gan werie, | ant make feste merye. Then he seeks his mo∣ther, and all make merry. Murie he þer wrohte, | ah rymenild hit abohte. ¶ Þe whiles horn wes oute, | Fikenild ferde aboute. In the mean∣time Fiken∣hild, by gifts, wins power∣ful support, [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] þe betere forte spede, | þe riche he ȝef mede, boþe ȝonge ant olde, | wiþ him forte holde. Ston he dude lade, | ant lym þerto he made. and builds a castle entirely surrounded by the water. Castel he made sette, | wiþ water by flette. þat þer yn come ne myhte | bote foul wiþ flyhte; bote when þe see wiþ-drowe, | þer mihte come ynowe. þus fykenild gon by-wende | Rymenild forte shende. Fikenhild then plots to wed Rymen∣hild, and sets the day for the wedding. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] to wyue he gan hire ȝerne; | þe kyng ne durst him werne. ant habbeþ set þe day, | Fykenild to wedde þe may. wo was rymenild of mode; | terres hue wepte of blode. Rymenhild weeps tears of blood. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] Horn dreams that Rymen∣hild is ship∣wrecked, that she tries to swim to land, but that Fikenhild prevents her with his sword hilt. þilke nyht horn suete | con wel harde mete of rymenild his make, | þat in to shipe wes take. þe ship gon ouerblenche; | is lemmon shulde adrenche. ¶ Rymenild mid hire honde, | swymme wolde to londe. Fykenild aȝeyn hire pylte, | mid his suerdes hylte. Horn awek in is bed; | of his lemmon he wes adred. Horn awakes, and tells Ath∣ulf his dream. "Aþulf," he seide, "felawe, | to shipe nou we drawe. Fykenild me haþ gon vnder, | ant do rymenild sum wonder. Crist, for his wondes fyue, | to nyht þider vs dryue!" ¶ Horn gon to shipe ride, | his knyhtes bi his side. He immedi∣ately sets sail, with a good wind. Fikenhild espouses Ry∣menhild by night, and leads her to his castle. They begin the feast be∣fore sunrise. Horn's ship arrives under the castle. þe ship bigon to sture, | wiþ wynd god of cure. ant fykenild her þe day springe, | seide to þe kynge, After rymenild þe brhyte, | ant spousede hyre by nyhte. he ladde hire by derke, | in to is newe werke. þe feste hue bigonne, | er þen aryse þe sonne. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] Hornes ship atstod in stoure, | vnder fykenildes boure. Nuste horn a-lyue | wher he wes aryue. Horn does not recognize the new castle, but meets Arnol∣din, who is awaiting him, þene castel hue ne knewe, | for he was so newe. þe see bigon to wiþ drawe; | þo seh horn his felawe, þe feyre knyht arnoldyn, | þat wes aþulfes cosyn, þat þer set in þat tyde, | kyng horn to abide. he seide, "kyng horn, kyngessone, | hider þou art welcome. to day haþ sire Fykenild | yweddeþ þi wif, rymenild. and who tells him that Fikenhild that day has wedded Ry∣menhild. white þe nou þis while; | he haueþ do þe gyle. þis tour he dude make | al for rymenildes sake. ne may þer comen ynne | no mon wiþ no gynne. ¶ Horn, nou crist þe wisse, | rymenild þat þou ne misse." Horn couþe alle þe listes | þat eni mon of wiste. harpe he gon shewe, | ant toc [MS. tot] him to felawe, Horn, and some com∣panions, disguise themselves as harpers, hiding their swords under their gar∣ments. knyhtes of þe beste | þat he euer hede of weste. ouen o þe sherte | hue gurden huem wiþ suerde. hue eoden on þe grauele, | towart þe castele. hue gonne murie singe, | ant makeden huere gleynge, þat fykenild mihte y-here; | he axede who hit were. Fikenhild hears their singing, and bids bring them in. men seide hit were harpeirs, | iogelers ant fyþelers. hem me dude in lete; | at halle dore hue sete. horn sette him a benche; | is harpe he gan clenche. he made rymenild a lay, | ant hue seide weylawey. Horn makes a lay to Ry∣menhild, and she falls in a swoon. ¶ Rymenild fel y swowe; | þo nes þer non þat lowe. hit smot horn to herte; | sore con him smerte. he lokede on is rynge, | ant o rymenild þe ȝynge. Horn looks on his ring and thinks of Rymenhild, then with his good sword slays Fiken∣hild and all his men. he eode vp to borde, | mid his gode suorde. Fykenildes croune | he fel þer adoune; ant alle is men arowe | he dude adoun þrowe. [No gap in MS. . . . . . . . . . .] ant made arnoldyn kyng þere, | after kyng aylmere, He makes Arnoldin king there, after Aylmer, to be kyng of westnesse, | for his mildenesse. þe kyng ant is baronage | ȝeuen him truage. ¶ Horn toc rymenild by honde, | ant ladde hire to stronde, and taking with him Athulf and Rymenhild, sets out for King Modi's kingdom. Ant toc wiþ him Aþelbrus, | þe gode stiward of hire fader hous. þe see bigan to flowen, | ant hy faste to rowen. hue aryueden vnder reme, | in a wel feyr streme. kyng Mody wes kyng in þat lond; | þat horn sloh wiþ is hond. Horn slays King Modi, and makes Athelbrus king in his place. He then pro∣ceeds to Ire∣land, and causes Athulf to marry the princess Rey∣nild. Then he returns to Sudenne, and makes Rymenhild his queen. They live in true love, and cherish God's law. 'Nu ben hi boþe dede.' Aþelbrus he made þer kyng, | for his gode techyng; for sire hornes lore | he wes mad kyng þore. ¶ Horn eode to ryue; | þe wynd him con wel dryue. he aryuede in yrlonde, | þer horn wo couþe er fonde. He made þer Aþulf chyld | wedde mayden ermenyld, ant horn com to sudenne, | to is oune kenne. Rymenild he made þer is quene, | so hit myhte bene. In trewe loue hue lyueden ay, | ant wel hue loueden godes lay. Nou hue beoþ boþe dede, | crist to heouene vs lede. AmeN! FLORIS AND BLAUNCHEFLUR.

Trentham MS., fol. 98 a; vellum, c. 1440: beginning lost. Headlines 'Florence and Blanchefloure.'

Ne thurst men [first 'mey, then alterd] neuer in londe After feirer Children fonde. Þe Cristen woman fedde hem þoo, Ful wel she louyd hem boþ twoo. So longe sche fedde hem in feere þat þey were of elde of seuen ȝere. Þe kyng behelde his sone dere, And seyde to him on this manere, Þat harme it were muche more But his sone were sette to lore On þe book letters to know, As men done, both hye and lowe. "Feire sone," she seide, "þou shalt lerne, Lo þat þou do ful ȝerne." Florys answerd with wepyng, As he stood byfore þe kyng; Al wepyng seide he, "Ne schal not Blancheflour lerne with me? Ne can y noȝt to scole goone 19 Floris says that he cannot learn unless Blauncheflur is with him. With-out Blanchefloure," he seide þane. "Ne can y in no scole syng ne rede With-out Blancheflour," he seide. Þe king seide to his soone, "She shal lerne for þy loue." To scole þey were put; 25 The two are put to school together, and make good progress. Boþ þey were good of wytte. Wonder it was of hur lore, And of her loue wel þe more. Þe Children louyd to-geder soo, Þey myȝt neuer parte a twoo. When þey had .v. ȝere to scoole goone So wel þey had lerned þoo, Inowȝ þey couþ of latyne, And wel wryte on parchemyne. Þe kyng vnderstod þe grete Amoure Bytwene his sone and Blanchefloure, And þouȝt when þey were of Age Þat her loue wolde noȝt swage; Nor he myȝt noȝt her loue withdrawe When Florys shuld wyfe after þe lawe. Þe king to þe Queene seide þoo, And tolde hur of his woo, Off his þouȝt and of his care, How it wolde of Floreys fare. "Dame," he seide, "y tel þe my reede, 45 The king begins to devise to separate the two, and proposes to put the maiden to death. I wyl þat Blaunchefloure be do to deede. When þat maide is y-slawe, And brouȝt of her lyf dawe, As sone as Florys may it vnder ȝete, Rathe he wylle hur forȝete. Þan may he wyfe after reede." Þe Queene answerde þen and seide, And þouȝt with hur reede Saue þe mayde fro þe deede. "Sir," she seide, "we auȝt to fonde Þat Florens lyf wit menske in londe, And þat he lese not his honour For þe mayden Blauncheflour. Who so myȝt þat mayde clene, Þat she were brouȝt to deþ bydene, Hit were muche more honour Þan slee þat mayde Blancheflour." Vnneþes þe king g[ra]unt þat it be soo. "Dame, rede vs what is to doo." "Sir, we shul oure soone Florys 65 The queen suggests that Floris be sent away. Sende into þe londe of Mountargis. Blythe wyl my suster be Þat is lady of þat Contree. And when she woot for whoom̄ Þat we have sent him vs froom̄, She wyl doo al hur myȝt, Boþ by day and by nyȝt, To make hur loue so vndoo As it had neuer ben soo. And, sir," she seide, "y rede eke Þat þe maydens moder make hur seek. Þat may be þat other resoun̄ For þat ylk enchesoun, Þat she may not fro hur moder goo." Now ben þese Children swyþ woo, Now þey may not goo in fere Drewryer þinges neuer noone were. Florys wept byfore þe kyng, And seide, "Sir, with-out lesyng, For my harme out ȝe me sende, Now she ne myȝt with me wende. Now we ne mot to-geder goo, Al my wele is turned to woo." Þe king seide to his soone aplyȝt, "Sone, withynne þis fourtenyȝt, Be her moder quykke or deede," "Sekerly," he him seide, "Þat mayde shal come þe too." "Ȝe, sir," he seid, "y pray ȝow it be soo. 94 Floris is sent to his aunt at Mountargis, with the promise that Blauncheflur shall follow within fourteen days. Ȝif þat ȝe me hur sende, I rekke neuer wheder y wende." Þat þe Child graunted þe kyng was fayne, And him betauȝt his Chamburlayne. With muche honoure þey þeder coome, As fel to a ryche kynges soone. Wel feire him receyuyd þe Duke Orgas, Þat king of þat Castel was, And his Aunt wiþ muche honour; But euer he þouȝt on Blanchefloure. Glad and blythe þey ben him withe; But for no ioy þat he seith, Ne myȝt him glade game ne gle, For he myȝt not his lyf see. His Aunt set him to lore Þere as other Children wore, Boþ maydons and grome; To lerne mony þeder coome. Inowȝ he sykes, but noȝt he lernes; For Blauncheflour euer he mornes. Yf enyman to him speke Loue is on his hert steke. Loue is at his hert roote Þat no þing is so soote: Galyngale ne lycorys Is not so soote as hur loue is, Ne nothing ne none other. So much he þenkeþ on Blancheflour, Of oo day him þynkeþ þre, For he ne may his loue see. Þus he abydeth with muche woo 125 He grieves until the fourteen days are past. Tyl þe fourtenyȝt were goo. When he saw she was nouȝt ycoome, So muche sorow he haþ noome, Þat he loueth mete ne drynke, Ne may noone in his body synke. Þe Chamberleyne sent þe king to wete, 131 The chamberlain reports Floris's sorrow to the king. His sones state al y-wrete. Þe king ful sone þe waxe to-brake, 133 The king is very angry, and again proposes to put Blaunche∣flur to death. For to wete what it spake: He begynneth to chaunge his moode, And wel sone he vnderstode, And with wreth he cleped þe Queene, And tolde hur alle his teene, And with wraþ spake and sayde, "Let do bryng forþ þat mayde! Fro þe body þe heued shal goo." Þenne was þe Quene ful woo. Þan spake þe Quene, þat good lady, "For goddes love, sir, mercy. 144 The queen proposes, instead, to sell the maiden. At þe next hauen þat here is, Þer ben chapmen ryche y-wys, Marchaundes of babyloyne ful ryche, Þat wol hur bye blethelyche. Than may ȝe for þat louely foode Haue muche Catełł and goode. And soo she may fro vs be brouȝt, Soo þat we slee hur nouȝt." Vnneþes þe king graunted þis; But forsoþ so it is, Þe king let sende after þe burgeise, Þat was hende and Curtayse, And welle selle and bygge couth, And moony langages had in his mouth. Wel sone þat mayde was him betauȝt; 159 This is done, and for the maiden they receive among other things a magnificent cup with a romantic history. An to þe hauene was she brouȝt. [100 a] Þer haue þey for þat maide ȝolde xx. Mark of reed golde, And a Coupe good and ryche, In al þe world was none it lyche. Þer was neuer noone so wel graue; He þat it made was no knave. Þer was purtrayd on, y weene, How Paryse ledde awey þe Queene; And on þe Couercle a-boue Purtrayde was þer both her love; And in þe Pomel þerone Stood a Charbuncle stoone. In þe world was not so depe soler, Þat it nold lyȝt þe Botelere, To fylle boþ ale and wyne, Of syluer and golde boþ good and fyne. Enneas þe king, þat nobel man, At Troye in batayle he it wan, And brouȝt it in-to Lumbardy, And gaf it his lemman, his Amy. Þe Coupe was stoole fro king Cesar; A þeef out of his tresour hous it bar. And sethe þat ilke same þeef For Blaunchefloure he it ȝeef. For he wyst to wynne suche þree, Myȝt he hur bryng to his contree. Now þese Marchaundes saylen ouer þe see, With þis mayde, to her contree. So longe þey han vndernome, Þat to Babyloyne þey ben coome. 190 Blauncheflur is taken to Babylon and sold to the Admiral. To þe Amyral of Babyloyne Þey solde þat mayde swythe soone; Rath and soone þey were at oone. Þe Amyral hur bouȝt Anoone, And gafe for hur, as she stood vpryȝt, Seuyne sythes of golde her wyȝt, For he þouȝt without weene Þat faire mayde haue to Queene; Among his maydons in his bour He hur dide with muche honour. Now þese merchaundes þat may belete, And ben glad of hur byȝete. nOw let we of Blauncheflour be, And speke of Florys in his contree. Now is þe Bu[r]gays to þe king coome With þe golde and his garysone, And haþ take þe king to wolde, Þe seluer and þe Coupe of golde. They lete make in a Chirche 209 The king and queen cause to be made a supposititious tomb for Blauncheflur. As swithe feire graue wyrche. And lete ley þer-vppone A new feire peynted stone, With letters al aboute wryte With ful muche worshippe. Who-so couth þe letters rede, Þus þey spoken, and þus þey seide: "Here lyth swete Blaunchefloure Þat Florys louyd Paramoure." Now Florys haþ vndernome, And to his Fader he is coome. 220 Floris returns, and asks his father and mother for Blauncheflur in vain. In his Fader halle he is lyȝt, His Fader him grette anoone ryȝt, And his moder, þe Queene, also, But vnneþes myȝt he þat doo, Þat he ne asked where his Lemman bee; Nonskyns answere chargeþ hee. So longe he is forth noome, In to Chamber he is coome. Þe maydenys moder he asked ryȝt, 229 He then asks the girl's mother. "Where is Blauncheflour, my swete wyȝt?" "Sir," she seide, "forsothe ywys, I ne woot where she is." She beþouȝt hur on þat lesyng Þat was ordeyned byfoore þe king. "Þou gabbest me," he seyde þoo, "Þy gabbyng doþ me muche woo. Tel me where my leman be." Al wepyng seide þenne shee, "Sir," shee seide, "deede." "deed!" seide he. 239 The mother at length tells Floris that Blauncheflur is dead. "Sir," sche seide, "for sothe, ȝee." "Allas, when died þat swete wyȝt?" "Sir, withynne þis Fourtenyȝt Þe erth was leide hur aboute, And deed she was for thy loue." Flores, þat was so feire and gent, Sownyd þere verament. 246 Floris swoons. Þe cristen woman began to crye To ihesu crist and seynt Marye. Þe king and þe queene herde þat crye; In to þe Chamber þey ronne on hye. And þe Queene herde her byforne On sowne þe Childe þat she had borne. Þe kinges hert was al in care, Þat sawe his sone for loue so fare. When he a-wooke and speke moȝt, Sore he wept and sore he syȝt, And seide to his moder ywys, "Lede me þere þat mayde is." Þeder þey him brouȝt on hyȝe; 259 His mother comes to him, and conducts him to the supposititious tomb. For care and sorow he wolde dyȝe. As sone as he to þe graue com, Sone þere behelde he þen, And þe letters began to rede, 263 Floris reads the inscription, and then swoons three times. Þat þus speke and þus seide: "Here lytħ swete Blauncheflour, Þat Florys louyd paramoure." Þre sithes Florys sownydde nouth; Ne speke he myȝt not with mouth. As sone as he awoke and speke myȝt, Sore he wept and sore he syȝt. 270 Floris weeps and sighs, and laments Blauncheflur's death. [No gap in MS.] "Blauncheflour!" he seide, "Blaun∣cheflour!" So swete a þing was neuer in boure. Of Blauncheflour is þat y meene, For she was come of good kyne. [No gap in MS.] Lytel and muche loueden þe For þy goodnesse and þy beaute. Ȝif deþ were dalt aryȝt, We shuld be deed boþ on oo nyȝt. On oo day borne we were; We shul be ded boþ in feere." [101 b] "Deeþ," he seide, "ful of enuye, 281 He apostrophizes death. And of alle trechorye, Refte þou hast me my lemman." "For soth," he seide, "þou art to blame. She wolde haue leuyd, and þu noldest, And fayne wolde y dye, and þu woldest. [No gap in MS.] After deeþ clepe nomore y nylle, But slee my self now y wille." His kynf he braide out of his sheth; 289 He attempts to stab himself with a knife, but is prevented by his mother. Him self he wolde haue doo to deth. And to hert he had it smetene Ne had his moder it vnder ȝetene. Þen þe Queene fel him vppone, And þe knyf fro him noome. She reft him of his lytel knyf, And sauyd þere þe Childes lyf. Forþ þe Queene ranne, al wepyng, Tyl she come to þe kyng. Þan seide þe good lady, "For goddes loue, sir, mercy! 300 The queen persuades the king to reveal the truth. Of .xii. children haue we noone On lyue now but þis oone. And better it were she were his make, Þan he were deed for hur sake." "Dame, þou seist soþ," seide he; "Sen it may noone other be, Leuer me were she were his wyf, Þan y lost my sonnes lyf." Of þis word þe Quene was fayne, And to her soone she ran agayne. "Floryes, soone, glad make the, 311 They tell him the facts, and together open the grave and find it empty. Þy lef þou schalt on lyue see. Florys, sone, þrouȝ engynne Of þy Faders reed and myne, Þis graue let we make, Leue sone, for þy sake. Ȝif þou þat maide forgete woldest, After oure reed wyf þou sholdest." Now euery worde she haþ him tolde, How þat þey þat mayden solde. "Is þis soth, my moder dere?" "For soth," she seide, "she is not here." Þe rowȝ stoone adoune þey leyde, And sawe þat was not þe mayde. "Now, moder, y þink þat y leue may. Ne shal y rest nyȝt ne day, 326 Floris declares his resolve to find Blauncheflur. Nyȝt ne day ne no stounde, Tyl y haue my lemmon founde. Hur to seken y wołł wende, Þauȝ it were to þe worldes ende." To þe king he goþ to take his leue, And his Fader bade him byleue. "Sir, y wyl let for no wynne; Me to bydden it it were grete synne." Þan seid þe king, "seth it is soo, Seþ þou wylt noone other doo, Al þat þe nedeþ we shul þe fynde; Ihesu þe of care vnbynde." "Leue Fader," he seide, "y telle þe 339 He describes to the king the retinue that he would like. Al þat þou shalt fynde me. Þou mast me fynde, at my deuyse, Seuen horses al of prys, And twoo y-charged vppon̄ þe molde Boþ with seluer and wyþ golde, And two ycharged with monay For to spenden by þe way, And þree with clothes ryche, Þe best of al þe kyngryche, Seuen horses and seuyn̄ men, And þre knaues without hem, And þyne owne Chamburlayne, Þat is a wel nobel swayne. He can vs wyssħ and reede, As marchaundes we shułł vs lede." His Fader was an hynde king, Þe Coupe of golde he dide him bryng, 356 The king gives him also the marvellous cup, and an elegantly caparisoned 'palfray.' Þat ilke self Coupe of golde Þat was Blauncheflour for ȝolde. "Haue þis, soone," seide þe king, "Herewith þou may þat swete þing, Wynne so may betyde, Blauncheflour with þe white syde, Blauncheflour, þat faire may." Þe king let sadel a Palfray, Þe oone half so white so mylke, And þat other reed so sylk. I ne can telle nouȝt How rychely þat sadel was wrouȝt. Þe Arson̄ was of golde fyne, Stones of vertu stode þeryne, Bygone aboute wit orfreys. Þe Queene was kynde and curtays, Cast hur toward þe kyng And of hur fynger she brayde a ryng: "Haue now þis ylke ryng: 375 The queen gives him a magic ring. While is it þyne, douȝt no þyng Of fire brennyng ne water in þe See; Ne yren̄ ne steele shal dere thee." [No gap in MS.] He took his leue for to goo; 379 Floris takes leave and comes to the haven, and lodges at the same house where Blauncheflur had been. Þer was ful muche woo; [No gap in MS.] Þey made him noon̄ other chere Þan her soon̄ were leide in bere. [No gap in MS.] Furþ he went with al his mayn̄; With him went þe Chamberlayn̄. So haue þey her hauyn̄ nome Þat þey ben to þe hauyn̄ come Þere Blaunchefloure was alnyȝt, Wel rychely þey ben dyȝt; Þe lord of þe ynne was welle hende; 389 They find there good entertainment. Þe Child he sette next þe ende, In al þe feirest seete Alle þey dronken and al þey ȝete: 392 All make good cheer except Floris, who thinks ever on Blauncheflur. [No gap in MS.] Ete ne drynke myȝt he nouȝt; On blauncheflour was al his þouȝt. Þe lady of þat vnderȝat 395 The hostess observes his 'mourning,' and tells him that she is reminded of the mourning of Blauncheflur. Þat þe Childe mornyng sat, And seide to her lord with styl dreme, "Sir, nyme now goode ȝeme How þe Child mournyng syttes: Mete and drynke he forȝetes: [103 a] Lytel he eteþ, and lasse he drynkeþ; He is a marchaund, as me þynkeþ." To Flores þen seide she, "Al ful of mournyng y the see. Þer sate þer þis sender day, Blauncheflour, þat swete may. Heder was þat mayde brouȝt With Marchaundes þat hur had bouȝt; Heder þey brouȝt þat mayde swete; Þey wold haue solde hur for byȝete; To Babyloyne þey wylle hur brynge, Boþ of semblant & of mornynge." When Florys herd speke of his lemman, 413 Floris rejoices at the mention of the name. He gives the hostess a silver cup, etc., and inquires further about Blauncheflur. Was he neuer so glad a man, And in his hert bygan to lyȝt; Þe Coupe he let fulle anoon̄ ryȝt: "Dame," he seide, "þe fessel is þyne, Boþ þe Coupe and þe wyne, Þe wyne and þe gold eke, For þou of my leman speke: On hur y þouȝt, for hur y syȝt; I ne wyst where I hur fynde myȝt; Wynde ne weder shal me assoyne, Þat y ne shal seche hur in Babyloyne." Now Florys resteþ him al a nyȝt. At morne, when it was day lyȝt, [No gap in MS.] [No gap in MS.] He dide him in-to þe wylde flood. 427 Floris sets sail once more. Wynde and weder with him stood; Sone so Florys come to londe, Þere he þanked goddes sonde To þe londe þer his lyf ynne is: 431 He arrives in the country where his leman is. Him þouȝt he was in paradyse. [No gap in MS.] Sone to Florys tydyng men tolde Þat þe Amyral wold Fest holde; His Erls, Barons, comyn̄ sholde, And al þat wold of him lond holde, For to herkyn̄ his hest And for to honoure his Feest. Glad was Florys of þat tydyng; He hoped to come to þat gestyng, Ȝif he myȝt, in þat halle, His lemman see among hem alle. [103 b] nOW to þat Citee Florys is come; Feire he hath his ynne y-noome At a palaise; was none it lyche; Þe lord of þat ynne was fulle ryche; He hadde ben ferre and wyde. Þe Childe he set next his syde, 448 At the inn there is good cheer, and Floris enters into conversation with the host. In al þe feirest seete. Alle þey dronken and ete, Al þat þerynne were, Al þey made good chere, Þey ete and dronke echoon̄ with other; But Florys þouȝt al another, Ete ne drynke he myȝt noȝt, On Blauncheflour was al his þouȝt. Þan spake þe Burgays Þat was hende and Curtays: "Ow, child, me þynkeþ welle Þat muche þou þynkest on my catelle." "Nay, sir, on Catel þenke y nouȝt," (On Blauncheflour was al his þouȝt,) "But y þynke on al wyse For to fynde my marchaundise; And ȝit it is þe most woo, When y it fynd, y shal it forgoo." Þan spak þe lord of þat ynne, "Þis sender day, þer sate hereyne Þat faire Maide Blauncheflour, boþ in halle and in boure. Euer she made mornyng chere, And bement Florys, her lyf fere; Ioye ne blis made she noon̄, But for Florys she made her moon̄." Florys toke a Coupe of syluer clere, A mantyl of Scarlet with menyuere: "Houe þis, sir, to þyn̄ honour; Þou may þonke it Blauncheflour. He myȝt make myn̄ hert glade, Þat couþ me tel wheder she is ladde." "Child, to Babyloyne she is brouȝt; 481 The host tells him that Blauncheflur has been sold to the Admiral at Babylon. Þe Amyral hur haþ bouȝt: [104 a] He gaf for hur, as she stood vpryȝt, Seuen sithes of gold hur wyȝt; For he þenkeþ with-out weene, Þat faire may haue to Queene. Among his maydons in his toure He hur dide, with much honoure." Now Flores resteþ him þere al nyȝt, Tyl on þe morrow þe day was lyȝt; He roos on þe morownyng, He gaf his Ost an hundryd shelyng, To his ost and to his Ostesse, And toke his leue, and feire dide kysse; And ȝerne his ost he besouȝt, Þat he him help, ȝif he myȝt ouȝt, Ȝif he myȝt, with any gynne, Þat feire may to him wynne. [No gap in MS.] "Childe," he seide, "to a brygge þou shalt come, The Senpere fynde at hoome: He woneth at þe brygges ende; Curtays man he is, and hende; We arn̄ bretheren, and trouthes plyȝt: He can þe wyssh and rede a-ryȝt; Þou shalt bere him a rynge 505 The innkeeper sends him with a ring of introduction to the bridge porter at Babylon. Fro my-self to tokenynge, Þat he help þe in boure and halle As it were my self befalle." [No gap in MS.] Florys takeþ þe ryng, and nemeþ leue, For long wold he nouȝt beleue. By þat it was vndern̄ hyȝe, 511 Floris takes leave, and by midday reaches the bridge and finds the porter. Þe Brygge come he swyth nye. Þe Senperes name was Darys. Florys gret him wel feire ywys, And he him þe ryng arauȝt, And ful feire it him betauȝt. [No gap in MS.] Þrouȝ þe token of þat ilk ryng 517 Floris presents the ring, and is hospitably received. Florys had ful faire gestnyng Off Fyssħ and flessh and tender breed, Of wyn̄, both white and reed: And euer Florys sate ful colde, 521 Floris sits mourning. And Dares bygan þe Childe beholde: [No gap in MS.] [104 b] "Leue Child, what may þis be, 523 Daris asks if he is not pleased with his entertainment. Þus þouȝtful as y the see? And þou nouȝt al in feere, Þat þou makist þus sory chere, Or þou lykkest noȝt þis yn̄?" Þan Floreys answered him̄: "Ȝis, sir, by goddes ore, So good ne had y mony day ȝore: God let me abyde þat daye Þat y þe quyte wel may: But y þenke on al wyse 533 Floris tells him, in veiled words, his real trouble. Most vppon̄ my marchaundyse; [No gap in MS.] And ȝit it is most woo, When y hit Fynde, y shal it forgoo." [No gap in MS.] "Childe, woldest þou telle me my gryf, 537 Daris bids him speak plainly, and Floris speaks out. To hele þe, me were ful lyf." [No gap in MS.] Euery word he haþ him tolde, How þe mayde was fro him solde, And how he was of Spayn̄ a kynges sone, For grete loue þider y-come, To fonde, with quantyse and with gyn̄. Blauncheflour for to wynne. "Now," seith Dares, "þou art a "Folt,— 545 Daris takes him to be a fool, and proceeds to tell the strength of the Admiral and the size of the city. And For a Foole þe Childe he halt,— "Now y woot how it gooth, Þou desirest pyn̄ own̄ death. Þe Amyral haþ to his Iustinges Oþer half hundred of ryche kinges; And þe Alder-rychest king Durst not begynne suche a þing. [No gap in MS.] Ȝif Amyral myȝt it vnderstonde, He shulde be drawe in his owne londe, A-bout Babyloyne, y wene, Six longe myle and tene; At euery myle is a walle þerate, Seuen sithes twenty ȝate; And .xx. toures þer ben ynne, Þat euery day chepyng is ynne; Euery day and nyȝt þrouȝ-out þe ȝere Þe Chepyng is y-lyche plenere; [105 a] And þauȝ al þe men þat ben bore, Had on hur lyf swore To wynne þat maide feire and free, Al shul þey die, so moot y the. In þat bour, in mydward pyȝt, 567 Daris tells of the 'towers,' the spring, the wonderful carbuncle, the porter on guard, and the forty-four maidens kept in the 'high tower.' Stondeþ a toure, y the plyȝt, An hundryd fathum̄ it is hye,— Who-soo beholdeþ hit, fer or nere, An hundred fathum it is y-fere;— It is made with-out[en] pere, Of lyme and of Marbulstone; In al þis world is suche noone. Now is þe morter made so wele, Ne may it breke, iren ne steele. Þe Pomel þat aboue is leide, It is made with muche pride; [No gap in MS.] Þat man ne þar in þe Tour berne Nouther torcher [MS. torther] ne lanterne; Suche a pomel was þer bygone, Hit shyned a nyȝt so doþ þe soone. [No gap in MS.] Now arn̄ in þat ilk Tour Twoo and fourty nobełł boure; Wel were þat ilke man Þat myȝt woone in þat oon̄! Ne durst him neuer more ywys Couete after more blysse. Naw arn̄ þer Seriauntes in þat stage Þat seruen þe maydons of hyȝe parage; But no serieaunt may serue þerynne Þat bereþ in his breche þat gynne To serue hem day and nyȝt, But he be as a Capoun dyȝt. At þe gate is a ȝateward; He is not a Coward; He is wonder proude with alle; Euery day he goþ in ryche palle. And þe Amyral haþ a wonder woon̄, Þat he þat is come of cristendome, Euery ȝere to haue a new wyf, 601 The Admiral takes a new wife each year. Þen he loueþ his Queene as his lyf. [No gap in MS.] Then shul men brynge doun̄ of þe Toure 603 The maidens are brought down into a beautiful orchard in which is a marvellous spring and a wonderful tree. Al þe Maidens of grete honour, And brynge hem into an Orchard, Þe feirest of al mydlerd: Þeryn is mony fowles song; Men myȝt leue þeryn ful long: About þe Orchard is a walle,— Þe fowlest stone is Cristalle,— [No gap in MS.] And a wełł spryngeþ þerynne, Þat is made with muche gynne; Þe wel is of muche prys, Þe stremes com froo Paradyse; Þe grauel of þe ground is precious stoones, And al of vertu for þe noones. Now is þe wełł of muche auȝt; Ȝif a woman com þat is for-lauȝt, 618 If any maiden, who is not a virgin, approach the spring, the water boils up as if mad. And she be doo to þe streeme For to wesshe her honndes clene, Þe water wylle ȝelle as it were wood, And bycome red as blood. On what maide þe water fareþ soo, Sone she shal to deþ be doo. Þoo þat ben maidens clene, Þey may wesshe þeryn, y wene; Þe water wołł stonde feire and clere; To hem makeþ it no daungere. At þe walles hed stondeþ a tree, Þe feirest þat on erthe may be; It is cleped þe tree of loue: Flowers and blossomes spryngen aboue; Þen þey þat maydons clene bene, Þei shul be brouȝt vnder þe trene, And whicħ so falleþ þe floure, 635 The maiden upon whom first falls a blossom from this tree is chosen queen. Shal be queene with muche honour. [No gap in MS.] Ȝif any mayden þer is Þat þe Amyral telleþ of more pris, Þe flour shal be to her sent Þrouȝ art of enchauntement. Þe Amyral cheseþ hem by þe flour, And euer he herkeneþ after Blaunche∣flour. [106 a] Thre sithes Flores sownyd anoon̄ Riȝt byfore hem euerychoon̄: When he awoke, and speke myȝt, Sore he wept, and sore he syȝt, And seide, "Dares, y worth now deed, 647 Floris implores the aid of Daris. But þat y hope of þe som reed." "Leue soon̄, wyl ȝe see Þat þy trust is muche on me; Þen is þe best reed þat y can̄— Other reed ne can y noon̄— Wende to-morn̄ to þe toure 653 Daris bids him go, disguised as a mason, to the tower, and induce the porter to play at draughts. As þou were a good gynoure; Take on þy honde squyer and scantlon̄ As þou were a free mason̄; Behold þe tour vp and doun̄, Þe porter is cruel and Feloun̄; Wel sone he wyl come to the, And aske what maner man þou be, And bere on þe, Felonye, And sey þou art come to be a spye. And þow shalt answere swetlyche, And sey to him myldelyche, Sey þou art a gynoure, To beholde þat feire Toure, For to loke and for to fonde To make suche another in þy londe. [No gap in MS.] Wel sone he wyl com þe nere, And wyl byd þe play at þe chekere. When þou art at cheker brouȝt, Without seluer [be] þou nouȝt; Þou shalt haue redy with the XX. Marke beside þy knee; Ȝif þou wynne ouȝt of his, Þow tel þerof lytel prys; And yf he wynne ouȝt of þyn̄, loke þow leue it with hym̄; So þou shalt, al with gynne, Þe porters loue forsoth wynne, Þat he þe help on þis day: But he þe helpe, no man may. [106 b] Wel ȝerne he wyl þe bydde and pray 683 Manage him so as to secure an invitation for the morrow. Come anoþer day to playe: Þou shalt seye þou wylt soo; Þou shalt take with þe suche twoo; [No gap in MS.] Þe þrydde day take an hundred pound, And þy Coupe hool and sound: 688 Show him your cup, and he will be greedy for it. Ȝeue him markes & poundes of þy Of þy tresour tel þou no tale; Wel ȝerne he wyl þe bydde and pray male; To lay þy Coupe, and to play. Þou shalt answere alþerfirst, Lenger to play þe ne lyst. Ful muche he wylle for þe Coupe bede, Ȝif he myȝt þe better spede; Þou shalt it blethly ȝeue him 697 At length give him the cup. Ȝif it be of gold fyne; And he wol ful moche loue þe, And to þe bowe also, parde, [No gap in MS.] [No gap in MS.] Þat he wyl falle to þy foote, 701 Promise him unlimited gold and silver if he will aid you. He will then fall at your feet and be your man. And become þyn̄, ȝif he moote. And homage þou shalt fonge, And þe trouþ of his honde." [No gap in MS.] As he seide, he dide ywys; And as he ordeynd, so it is: [No gap in MS.] Þe Porter ys Florys man bycome, 707 Then reveal to him your wishes. For his gold and his warysone. Florys seide, "now art þou my moon̄, Al my trust is þe vppon̄; Now my consel y wyl þe shewe; Rede me ryȝt, ȝif þou be trew. Now euery word he haþ him tolde, 713 Floris acts as advised, and discloses his identity. How þe mayde was fro him sholde, And how he was of Spayn̄ a kynges soon̄, For grete loue þeder ycoom̄ To fonden, with some gynne, Þat feire mayde for to wynne. Þe Porter þat herde, and sore syȝt, 719 The porter at first reproaches himself, but presently promises his aid. And seide, "y am betrayde aryȝt; Þrouȝ þy Catel, y am dismayde; Þerfore y am wel euyl a-payde Now y woot how it gooþ; For þe shal y suffre deth; I shal þe faile neuer moo, Þe while y may ryde and goo; Þy forwardes shal y holde alle, What-so-euer may befalle. Wynde now hoom̄ to þyn̄ ynne While y beþenke me of sum gynne; Bytwene þis and þe þrydde day. Fonde y shal, what y do may. Flores spake and wept amonge And þouȝt þe terme al to longe. Þe Porter þouȝt þe best reed, And let geder floures in a meed; He wist it was þe maydons wylle. To lepes he lete of floures fylle: Þat was þe best reed, as him þouȝt þoo, Floures in þat oon̄ lep to doo. 740 He covers Floris in a basket of flowers, which is borne above. Twoo maydens þe lepe bore; So heuy charged neuer þey wore, And bade god ȝeue hem euyl fyne; To mony floures he dide þerynne. To Blaunchefloures Chamber þey shulde tee; Þey ȝede to anoþer, and let þat be: Þey shuld haue gone to Blauncheflour, And ȝede to swete Clarys boure, And cursed him so fele brouȝt to honde; Þey ȝede hoom̄, and lete hem stonde. Clarys to þe lepe come wolde, Þe Flores to hondel and to be-holde; Florys wende it hadde be his swete wyȝt; 753 Floris mistakes another maiden for Blauncheflur and leaps forth. Of þe lepe he stert vpryȝt; And þe mayde, al for drede, 755 The maiden cries out. Bygan to shrelle and to grede. When he sawȝ it was not shee, In-to þe lepe aȝen̄ stert he, 758 Floris covers himself again. And held him betrayde clene; Of his lyf tolde he not a beene. [No gap in MS.] Þer come maydons, and to Clarys lepe by ten, by twelf, on an heepe And þey asked what hur were, And why she made suche a bere. Clarys byþouȝt hur anooneryȝt Þat hit was Blauncheflour þe white, And gaue þe Maydons answere anoon̄, 767 The maiden conceals the fact by a clever story. Þat to her Chamber were goon̄, Þat to þe lepe come she wolde, Þe Flowres to hondel and to beholde; "And, or y it ere wyst, An Otter fleyȝ a-geynst my brest: I was so soore a-drad þan, Þat y loude crye can." Þe Maydons þerof hadden glee, And turned hem, and lete hur be. As sone as þe maydons were gon̄, 777 Claris bids Blauncheflur come see a 'well fair flower.' To Blauncheflour she ȝede anoon̄, And seide boldly to Blauncheflour, "Felow, come and see a feire Flour! Suche a flour þe shal wel lyke, Haue þou it sene a lyte." "Awey, Clarys!" quod Blauncheflour; 783 Blauncheflur bids Claris depart, and reproaches Floris for his inconstancy. "To scorne me, it is none honoure. [No gap in MS.] I here, Clarys, without gabbe, Þat þe Amyral wyl me to wyf habbe; But þat day shal neuer be, Þat he shal euer haue me, Þat y shal be of loue so vntrewe, Ne chaunge my loue for no newe; For no loue, ne for noon̄ aye, Forsake Florys in his Contraye. Now y shal swete Florys mysse, Ne shal noon̄ other of me haue blysse." Clarys stood and beheld þat rewth, And þe trewnesse of hur trewth, And seide, "lady Blaunchefloure, 797 Claris further urges Blauncheflur, who at length comes. Goo we see þat ilk floure." [No gap in MS.] To þe lepe þey went both. Ioyful man was Florys þoo, For he had herde al þis. Of þat lepe he stert y-wys: 802 Floris springs forth, and they embrace one another. [108 a] Wel sone Blauncheflour chaunged hewe; Ayther of hem other knewe: Withoute speche togeder þey lepe, And klippt and kyst wonder swete. [No gap in MS.] Clarys beheld al this, Her countenaunce and her blysse, And seide þen to Blaunchefloure, 809 Claris asks Blauncheflur if she knows this flower. "Felow, knowist þou auȝt þis flour? [No gap in MS.] She shul konne ful muche of Art Þat þou woldest þerof geue part." [No gap in MS.] Now Blauncheflour and Florys, 813 Both beg Claris not to betray them. Boþ þese swete þinges ywys, Cryen her mercy, al wepyng, Þat she ne wrey hem to þe king. [No gap in MS.] "Ne douȝt no more of me in alle, 817 Claris promises silence. Þan it were myself byfalle. Wete ȝe wel weturly, Heele y wyl ȝoure drury." [No gap in MS.] To a bedde þey ben brouȝt, Þat is of palle and of sylke wrouȝt; And þere þey sette hem doun̄ And drouȝ hem self al a room̄: Þer was no man þat myȝt radde 825 The two rejoice together greatly. Þe ioye þat þey twoo madde. Florys þen to speke bygan̄, And seide, "lord þat madest man, I it þonke goddes sone Þat al my care I haue ouercome; Now my leue I haue y-founde, Of al my care y am vnbounde." Clarys hem seruyd al at wylle, Boþ dernlyche and stylle. c Larys with þe white syde Rose vp on morne tyde, And cleped after Blaunchefloure To wende with him in to þe Toure: She seide "y am commaund"; But her answere was slepaund. [No gap in MS.] Þe Amyral had such a woone, 841 Each morning two maidens went to the Admiral's tower to comb his hair and wash his hands,— Þat euery day shulde come Twoo maydons of hur bour Vp to him in to þe Toure, [No gap in MS.] With water and clooth, and basyn̄, For to wesshe his hondes ynne: Þa day þey seruyd him feire; Anoþer day come another peire; But most were wonyd into þe Toure, 849 but especially often, Claris and Blauncheflur. Clarys and Blauncheflour. Clarys come þenne aloon̄: 851 The next morning Claris calls Blauncheflur, but she falls asleep again. Þe Amyral asked a-noon̄, [No gap in MS.] "Where is Blauncheflour so free? Why comeþ she not heder with þe?" "Sir," she seide anoon̄ ryȝt, 855 Claris invents an ingenious excuse for her. "She haþ wakyd al þis nyȝt, And y-cryde and y-loke And y-redde on hur booke, And y-bede to god her orysoun Þat he geue þe his benysoun, And þat he holde long þy lyf; And now þe mayde slepeþ swyth; She slepeþ so fast, þat mayde swete, Þat she may not com ȝete." [No gap in MS.] "Certes," seide þe kyng, "Now is she a swete þing: Wel auȝt me ȝerne her to wyf, Þat so preyeth for my lyf." Anoþer day Clarys erly Aryst; 869 The following morning Claris again calls Blauncheflur in vain to go with her. Þat Blauncheflour wełł wyst, [No gap in MS.] And seide, "y come anoon̄," When Clarys her clepe bygan̄, And fel in a slepe newe. Sone after it made hem to rewe: Clarys to þe Pyler cam̄; A basyn̄ of gold in hond she nam̄, And Cleped after Blaunchefloure To wende with hur in to þe Toure. [No gap in MS.] Þe Amyral asked after Blauncheflour, [No gap in MS.] "What! is she not come ȝet? Now she me douteþ al to lyte." Forþ he cleped his Chamburlayn̄, And bade him wende with his mayn̄ To wete why she wyl not come As she was wonyd to doon̄. Þe Chamburlayn̄ is forth noom̄; In to Chambre he is coom̄, And stondeþ byfore hur bedde, And fyndeþ þere, nebbe to nebbe, Nebbe to nebbe, and mouþ to mouþ. To þe Amyral it was sone couþ; Vp in to þe Toure he steyȝ, And told his lord al þat he seyȝ. Þe Amyral late him his swerd brynge, For wete he wolde of þat tydynge: [No gap in MS.] He went to hem þere þey lay: 896 The Admiral then goes with drawn sword and finds the children. Ȝit was she a-slepe þere ay. The Amyral lete þe clothes doun̄ cast A lytel by-nethe hur brest, And sone he knew anoon̄ Þat oon̄ was woman, & þat oþer groom̄. He quaked for tene þere he stood; Hem to sloon̄ was in his mood̄; Ȝit he þouȝt, or he hem quelde, What þey were, þey shuld him telle, And seth he wyl with dome hem done. Þe Children wakyd swyth soone, And saw þe swerde ouer hem drawe; Þey ben adrad, and in awȝe. Þan seide Florys to Blauncheflour, "Of oure lyf is no socour." But þey cryde him mercy swyth, 912 They awake and cry for mercy. For to length her lyue. Vp he bade hem sytte booth, And do on boþ her cloþ; Seþ he dide hem bynde fast, And in prison̄ lete hem be cast. Now haþ he after his Barons sent, 918 The Admiral summons his counsellors and tells them the case. To wreke him after Iugement, Now han þe Barons vndernome, And to þe Amyral þey ben coome. [No gap in MS.] He stood vp a-monge hem al, With semblant wroþ withalle, And seide: "Lordynges, with much honour, Ȝe herde speke of Blauncheflour, Þat y bouȝt hur dere a plyȝt For seuen sithes of golde hur wyȝt; For y wende with-out wene Þat feire mayde to haue had to Quene. Among my maydons in my Toure I hur dide, with muche honoure; Byfore her bedde my self y coom̄; I fonde þeryn a naked man. Þan were þey to me so looþ, I þouȝt to haue sleyn̄ hem booþ, I was so wroþ and so wood. Ȝit y withdrowȝ myn̄ hoot blood Tyl y haue sende after ȝow, by assent, To wreke me with Iugement. Now ȝit ȝe woot how it is goon̄, Wreke me soon̄ of my foon̄." Þan spake a kyng of þat londe, 942 One suggests that the children be heard before being judged. "We haue herd al þis shame and shonde; But, or we hem to deth deme, Lat vs hem see, ȝif it þe Queeme, What þey wolde speke or sygge, Ȝif þey wyl auȝt ageyn̄ vs legge: Hit were nouȝt ryȝt iugement, Without answere make acoupement. Til þis is herde of more and lasse, 950 The king of Nubia advises that they be instantly burned. What myster is, to bere wytnesse?" [No gap in MS.] After þe Children haue þey sent,— To brenne hem was his entent;— Two serieauntes hem gan brynge Toward hur al wepynge. Drery booþ þese children goo; Ayther bemeneþ oþeris woo. Þan seide Florys to Blauncheflour, "Of oure lyf is no socour: 959 Floris reproaches himself to Blauncheflur. [No gap in MS.] Yf kinde of man it þole myȝt, Twyes y shuld dye with ryȝt, Oones for my self, anoþer for the, For, þy deeþ þou hast for me.' Blauncheflour seyde þoo, "Þe gylt is myn̄, of oure woo." Florys drouȝ forþ þat ryng Þat his moder him gaff at her part∣yng: "Haue þis ryng, lemman myne; 968 He gives her the ring, telling her of its properties. Þou shalt not dye while it is þyne." Blaunchefloure seide þoo, [No gap in MS.] "So ne shal it neuer goo, Þat þis ryng shal help me, And þe deed on þe see." Florys þat ryng hur rauȝt, And she it him agayn betauȝt, 975 She attempts to force the ring back on him; it falls to the ground and is picked up by an earl. Nouther ne wyl other deed seene; Þey let it falle hem bytwene; A king com̄ after; a ryng he fonde, And brouȝt it forth in his honde. [No gap in MS.] Þus þe Children wepyng com̄ To þe fire and hur doom̄. Byfore þe folk þey were brouȝt; Drery was her bothes þouȝt; Þere was noon̄ so sterne man 984 The 'fairness' of the children excites compassion. Þat þe Children loked oon̄, Þat þey ne wolde, al wel fawe, Her iugement haue withdrawe, And with grete Catel hem bygge, Ȝif þey durst speke or sygge; For Flores was so feire a ȝonglyng, And Blaunchefloure so swete a þing, Þer wyst no man whor hem were woo, For no semblaunt þat þey made þoo. Þe Admyral was so wood, 994 But the Admiral is very wroth. Ne myȝt he nouȝt kele his hoot blood; He bade þe Children fast be bound, And in to þe fire slong. [No gap in MS.] Þat ilke king þat þe ryng fond, 998 The earl with the ring steps forward and speaks in behalf of the children. To Amyral he spake and round, And wolde hem saue to þe lyf, And told how for þe ryng þey gon̄ stryf. Þe Amyral lete hem ageyn̄ clepe, For he wolde here hem speke, [110 b] And asked Florys what he heete: And he tolde him ful skeete: "Sir," he seide, "yf it were þy wylle, 1006 Floris asks clemency for the maiden, and the maiden prays for him. Þou ne getest not þat maide to spylle; But, good sir, quel þou me, And lete þat maide on lyue be." [No gap in MS.] Blauncheflour seide byne, "Þe gilt of oure dedes is moyne." [No gap in MS.] Þe Admyral seide þoo "I-wys ȝe shul dye boo." His swerd he breide out of his sheeth, Þe Children to haue done to deeth. Blaunchefloure put forþ hur swire, And Florys dide her agayn̄ to tyre, And seide, "I am man; I shal byfore, With wrong hast þou þy lyf loore." Florys forth his swerd putte, And Blauncheflour agayn̄ him tytte. Þe king seide, "dredry mot ȝe be, 1022 The Admiral is at length touched with pity. Þis rouþ by þis Children to see." Þe king þat þe ryng hadde, For routh of hem sone he radde, And at þe Amyral wyl he spede, Þe Children fro þe deþ to lede. [No gap in MS.] "Sir," he seide, "it is lytel prys, 1028 The earl with the ring speaks for the children. Þese Children for to slee y-wys; And it is wel more worship, Florys counsel þat ȝe weete, Who him tauȝt þat ilke gynne, Þy toure for to come ynne, And who him brouȝt þare, And other, þat ȝe may be ware." Þan seide þe Amyral, "as god me saue, Florys shal his lyf haue, Ȝif he me telle who him tauȝt þerto, Of Florys, þat shal y neuer doo." Now þey bydden al y-wys Þat þe Admyral graunted þis, To forȝeue þat trespas 1042 Floris refuses to tell how he gained entry to the tower until pardon has been promised the porter. Ȝif Florys told how it was. [No gap in MS.] [110 a] Now euery word he haþ him tolde, 1044 He then tells his story. How þat maide was for him solde, And how he was of spayn̄ a kynges sone, For grete loue þeder y-come, For to fonde, with sum gynne, Þat feire maide for to wynne, And how þe porter was his man by∣come, For his gold and for his warysoun̄, And how he was in þe Florys borne. Alle þe lordinges lowȝ þerforne: Now þe Admyral wol him tyde; 1054 The Admiral lifts them up, dubs Floris knight, and causes them to be married in church with a ring. Florys setteþ next his syde, And efte he made him stonde vpryȝt, And dubbed him þere knyȝt, And bade he shulde with him be, Þe furthermost of his meyne. Florys falleþ doun̄ to his feet, And prayeþ geue him his sweet. Þe Amyral gaf him his lemman̄: Al þat þere were, þankyd him þanne. To a Chirche he let hem brynge, And dede let wed hem with a rynge. Boþ þese twoo swete þinges y-wys Fel his feet for to kysse; And þrouȝ consel of Blauncheflour, Clarys was fet doun̄ of þe Toure, And Amyral wedded hur to queene. 1070 The Admiral takes Claris to be his queen. Þere was fest swythe breeme; I can not telle al þe sonde, But rycher fest was neuer in londe. Was it nouȝt longe after þan̄, 1074 Messen∣gers come to Floris announcing his father's death. Þat to Florys tydyng cam̄, Þat þe king his Fader was deed. Þe Baronage gaf him reed 1077 The Admiral tries in vain to induce him to remain. Þat he shuld wende hoom̄, And fonge his feire kyngdoom̄. At þe Amyral þey toke leue, And he byddeþ þem byleue. Home he went with royal array, And was crownyd with-in a short day. [No gap in MS.]

(Follows. The batełł of Troye, sithe þat god þis world wrouȝt Heuen and erthe made of nouȝt leaves 111-134. Then Amys and Amylion, leaves 134-147. MS. ends with one leaf of Sir Eglamour.)

MS. Cott. Vitell. D. III., 6 a, col. 1. The 3 leaves of this MS. are burnt and shrunk, and are hardly legible.

(196) . . . . . [MS. note. See Introduction; also Floris et Blanch., Paris 1856, p. 28, l. 673.] so dere . . . . wiþ þoute wene. . . þat maide to his quene. . his maidenes vp in is tur, (200) . hire wiþ muchel honur . . marchans þis maide forlete, . . . bliþe mid here by-ȝete. . . . . we blancheflur be. (204) . . floires in his cuntre. . burgeys to þe king icome. . . . gold and þisse garisome. . . . þan king i ȝolde. (208) . . þo cupe of golde. . . . let at one chiriche. . . . . les wereche, . . . [þ]at anouen . . (212) . . pointe stonde . . . . bi write. . . . . . hele worþsipe (215) . . . þe letters rede. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (219) . . [h]aueþ vnder-nome (220) . . faderlonde he is icome . . . halle he is alyȝt . . . . he grette anonryȝt (223) . . þe quene he grette also . . . haueþ his gretinge ido, . . . askeþ war þat maide beo . . . were nou targeþ heo. . . . res hit haueþ vnder nome (228) . . boure & a is icome . . . to hire anonriȝt . [bl]ancheflur mi suete wiȝt . . . . . . ful iwis (232) . . . . . war heo is [leaf 6, col. 2] Þine gabbinge deþ me wo; Tel me war my lemmon beo. Al wepinge onsuerede heo, "Sire," heo seyde, "ded." "ded!" quad he. "Sire," heo seyde, "for soþe ȝe, Alas, wenne deide my suete wyȝt?" "Sire," heo seyde, "wiþ inne þis seue∣niȝt Þat vrþe hire was leyd aboue, And ded heo is for þine loue. Floyres þat was so fayr and gent, He fel iswoue vp on þe pauement. And þe cristene wimmon gon to crie To crist and to seyntemarie. Þe king & þe quene iherdde þat cri; In to þe bure þo vrne hy. And þe quene ate frome By wepeþ hire dere sone. And þe kinges herte is ful of care Þat he sikþ is sone vor loue so fare. Anon he of swoninge awok and speke miste. Sore he wep and sore he syȝte, And on his moder he by siþt. "Dame," he sayde, "led me þar þat mayde lyþ." Þider heo hine broute wel suþe, Vor care a[n]d sorwe of hire deþe. Anon þat he to þe burles com, Wel ȝerne he bi-hul þer-on, And letteres bigon to rede. Þus spek and þus sede Þat þar lay suete blancheflur. [Þat] floyres louede par amur. Þ . . . . swouneþ nouþe And asone ase he speke myȝte. Sore he wep and sore he syȝte, And gon blancheflur bi mene Wit teres riue ase a scur of r[e]ne. "Blancheflur," he seide, "blancheflur, So sute þing nas ner in bur, [leaf 6/3] Vor þou were ibore of gode cunne, Vor in worle nes nere non Þine imake of no wimmon. Inouȝ þou cuþest of clergie And of alle curteysie. & muchel and litel hit louede þe Vor þi fayr hede and þi bunte. ȝif þat deþ were ideld ariȝt, We scholden habbe idiȝed boþe in ar niȝt. Vor in one deye ibore we were; Mid riȝte we scholden deie ifere." "Deþ," he seyde, "vol of enuie, and vol of alle tricherie, Mid traisun þou me hast mi lef binome. To bi-traie þat folk hit is þi wone; Heo wolde libbe and þu noldest. Þou nelt me slen and ihc wolde; Wiþ þere me wolde þat þou were. Nul tu no wiȝt come þere, and þer me wolde þat þou . . ne come, Þer þou wolt come Ilome. Þilke þat buste best to libbe, Hem þou stikest under þe ribbe. and ȝif þer is eni forliued wrecche, Þat of is liue nouȝt ne recche, Þat fawe wolde deie for sorewe & elde, On hem neltou nouȝht bi helde. No lengore ich nelle mi lef bileue, I chulle be mid hyre ere eue. Nou after deþ clepie ich þe nulle, Ac mi sulue aslen ich wille." Ase a mon þat draȝh him sulue to þe deþe, His knif he draȝh out of his scheþe, and to his herte hit wolde habbe ismite, Nadde his moder hit vnder gete. Ac þe quene his moder . . fel vpon, & þis knif heo him binom. Heo bi nom him his atel knif. [leaf 6, back, col. 2] Þat heo com bi. . . . . . . Þanne spac þe quene þe . . and seyde to þe kinge, "sire, mercy, Sire, of þis children nabbe we non, Non aliue bote þis on, and bote hit were þat hit wer . . Þane eyþer deȝede vor oþer . . . "Dame, þou seist soþ," þo seyde he, "Nu hit nele non oþer bee. Leuere me were þat heo were Þane ihc for lore mine sone l[yf]." Of þisse wordes þe quene w . . To floyres, hire sone, . . . "Floyres, sone, glad make þe . For ut þou schalt þi lef . . Leue sone . . . . . . . . . . . fader rede and . . . . . . . wo . . . Leue sone so . . . . . . Vor [two lines illegible here] . . . . . vre rede . . . . . . word and ende him . Hou hei habbeþ þat mayde, "and is þis soþ, mi moder dere?" "Ȝe, for soþe," heo nis not . Þane stond hii þanne. . . . He isay þat þere nas . . . . Nu me þencheþ . . . . . . . . ne schal ihc. . . . Niȝt ne da . . . . . . . . . ich . . . . . .

[Some folios lost here. Continued at bottom of page 84.]

. . . . by souht . . . . . mid al his mauht . . frend in babiloyne hadde . . wisede and wel radde . . . he mihte mid eni ginne . . . blancheflour iwinne . . one longe brugge þou schalt come . . . ngere finde þer ate frome. . . . c is ate brugge ende . . . mon he is and hende . . . breþeren and treweþe ipliht . . . wisi and reden wel riht. . . . bere him neseno [?] ring . . . . . . to toking . . . . . elpe on eche halue . . . . . and takeþ is leue . . . . . . þer by sene . . . . . . ondarne heyȝ . . . . . [bru]gge suiþe neyȝ . . . . . þane brugge icome . . . . . bruggere ate frome . . . . . . . a Marbreston . . . . . mon he was on . . . . . was of Muchel pris . . . . . . him sulf iwis . . . . . ys was i hote doyre . . . . . s him grette wel fayre . . . . . him þane ring arauht . . . [d] ayre hine him bi tauht . . . . þe tockne of þe ringe . hadde þer aniht wel gode gistinge . . . . b of fles of tendre bred . . . . t win and eke of red . . . . re floyres sike and colde . . . . gon þat chil by holde . . . . wat may þe be . . . . . þe i see . . . . . . . uoice al fere . . . . . . . . ele chere. [leaf 7, col. 2] . . . þin in." Bot floyres onswerede him, "Nay, sire, bi godes ore, So god nadde [I] wel ȝore. God lete me abide þane day Þat ich hit þe ȝelde May. Ac ich þenche on alle wise Vppon mine Marchaundise Ware vore ich am hider icome, Lest ich ne feynde hit ate frome, and þat is ȝet mi meste wo, Ȝif ich hit finde and hit forgo. Child, woldest þou telle me of þi gref To helpe þe me were lef. And now floyres him haueþ itold Hou þat mayd from him wa sold, and hou he was of spayne one kinges sone, Vor hire loue þider icome. Nou doyres þat chil[d] by halt, and for a fol he hine halt. "Child, nou ich wot al hou hit geþ; Iwis þou welnest þin owene deþ. Þe amirel haueþ to his iustninge Oþer half hondert of riche kinge, Þe alre richeste kinge Ne dorste bi ginne swch a þing. And mihste þe amirayl hit vnder ȝete, Sone of his liue he were quite. Aboute babiloyne beþ to ȝonge wiþ∣oute wene, Sixti longe Mile and tene, and ate walle þer beþ ate, Seuesiþe tuenti ȝate. And tueye toures þer beþ inne, Þat þe chepinge is eche day inne. Nis þer day þoruh out þan ȝer, Þat þe chepinge is iliche plener. Seue hundred tures, wit outen þan tuo, Þ[er] beþ in þan boruh and somdel mo. Þe alre febleste tour Nolde nouht duti þe amperur. Vor to come þer wiþ inne, No þer wid stregþe ne wid ginne. [leaf 7, back] . . . . . . . . . . . . . aȝen woo . schal to iwinne þat Mayd al so sone . . . . . þe sonne and mone. . . . þe bor . . mid rift . . . . . . . . aplyft . . hondred teyse þe tour is heie . . . . by halt fur and nei. and an hundret teyse hit is wid, and imaked wiþ muchel pruid. Of lym and of marbel ston; In cristiante nis swich non. Þat morter is i maked se wel, Ne May hit breke ire ne stel. And þe pomel about þe lede. Is i wrouh mit so . . . . . Ne þarf me aniht . . . . . Nouþer torche . . . . . . . . . . . a pomel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . beþ in þan . . Foure and fourti . . . . . [Þ]at wel were þat ilke . . . . . Mihte wonie . . . . .

[Aboute twenty lines illegible here.]

Neuer . . [leaf 7, back, col. 2] To chesen hire . . . . . . Þeyȝ he louede is quene . . . Me schul fecche adoun of þe. . Alle þe maydenes of parage. and bringe hem in on orcharde Þe fayreste of þe middel[erd]. Þer is fowelene song Ne mihte wel libbe hem a[mong] Abute þan orchard is a wa[l] . Summe of þe stones be . . . Þer me may ise uppon a . . . I write muchel of þe w . . . And a welle þat springeþ. . . Þat is i mad mid muchel. . . Þis welle is . . Muchel Þat grauel bi þe . . . . . And of v . eu . . . . Of safir . . and of . . . Of omcie and of . . . . . Þe welle is al . . . . . . Ȝif þer come. . . . . . . . . ho . . . . . . . For . . . . . . . . . . . w . . wele . . . . . . come al so . . . . . . . wlyche w . . . . . Wel sone . . . . . . . Alle þat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . wole . . . . . .

[About nine more lines illegible. Several folios lost here.]

. . . . wel muchel of art . woldest ȝeue þer of eny part. . . . de blancheflur to clarise . . min owene leue floyres . . . . þis ilke swete þinges . . . . clarisse merci . . Vnto þe amyrayl noȝt ne wreye . . . . scholden deȝe . . . . . namore mid alle . . . hit were to me by falle . . . . . wel wytterli . . . . . beyre drewori . . bedde heo hem haueþ ibrouȝt . . selk and pal i wrouht . . heo sette hem þer adoun . . . . . . wende aroum . . . more bote cluppe and cusse . . . blancheflur hit wiste . . . . formest speke bigon . . . d þat makedest mon . . . . nou godes sone . . . . he is ouer [c]ome . . . . habbe ifounde . . . . . am vnbounde . . . . . oþer haueþ told . . . . . kare ful cold . . . . . me wel stronge . . . . . rt so longe . . . . . serueþ al to wille . . . . [dern]eliche and stille . . . . heo noȝh longe wite . . . . eren vnder ȝete . . . . wel hire mote bi tide . . . . . amorewe tide . . . . . ed blanche flur . . . . hire in to þan tour . . . . ich am cominge . . . . . was slepinge . . . . . . ane wine . . . . . . . . come . . . . of herd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [leaf 8, col. 2] . . . . . . . . . . . Þe amiral askede blanche[flur] and clarisse seyde anonriȝht, "Sire, he haueþ i waked al niȝht, and iwaked and iloked, and irad on hire boke, and ibede to god hire orison, Þat ȝeue þe his beniscun, and god þe holde longe aliue. and nou þat mayde slepeþ so suiþe, Heo slepeþ so faste, þat mayde suete, Þat heo ne may nouȝt come ȝete." and þo bi spak him þe king Iwis heo is a swete þing. Wel auȝhte ich wilny habbe hire to wiue So ȝerne heo bit for mine liue. Clarisse a noþer day arist, and haueþ blancheflur at wist Þat heo haueþ so longe de mere, "Aris vp nou and g[on]e ifere." Þer heo seyde ich come anon . . . floyres hire . . . . Abode þe children ase don wise. Vell aslepe on þisse wise On þisse wise hey . . . . . Sone þer . . . . . . . . Clarise to þe piler wende anon A basin of gold þer heo nom, and haueþ ycleped [blanchef]lur To wende . . . . . . . Heo ne . . uerede ȝe ne . . Þo wende clarisse þat heo were ago. Þo clarisse com in to þe tur, Þe amiral askede blanchefl[ur], and askede whi heo ne come, Also heo was woned to done. "Heo was arise are ich were, Ich wende hire habbe ifunde þere. What nis heo . . icome . . Wod heo . . . me to . . . . . . . . . . chaumberlen . . . . . . . his . . . . . . . . . . . . . So heo was . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a ȝe . . . . . . his louerd wat he i aȝheþ Þe amirayl bed his swerd him bringe W[i]te he wolde of þisse tiþinge. Vorþ he wende mid al his mayn, Þat he com þer hei boþe leie. Þe ȝet was þe slep in here eȝe. Þe amiral het here cloþes adoun caste A lutel bi neþe here breste. Þo iseih he wel anon Þon was may and þoþer mon. Þe amirayl quakede, for angys þe astod, Hem to quelle, hit was on his mod. and ȝet he þouhte, are he hem quelle, Wat he were hui scholden telle. and seþþe he þoute hem to deþe don. Þe children a woken vnder soon (?) And seȝen þat swerd ouer hem a drawe, Hij weren agr . . and eþe hui mawe. . . . . . . . . belami Who makede þe so hardi . . . . . . . in my tour . . . . . . . blancheflur. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . þe . . . . fore. Þo seyde floyres to blancheflur, "Of vre liue nis no socur." Ak hei crieþ him merci so suiþe Þat he ȝaf hem furst of here liue. Vp he bad hem sitte boþe, and don on here beyre cloþe, and þo he bad hem binde faste, and in to one prisun he het hem cast. . . . he . . after his barenage . . . . he him . . . . . . . barenage . . . . . Þat to nan amyrayl abeþ nome. . . . . . . . . . ibuld . . . . . . . . was ifuld. Þe amiral stod up among hem alle . . . . . . wreþ mid [alle] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [leaf 8, back, col. 2] . . . . . . wiþoute w[ene] To habben hire to mi quene . . . hire bedde miself ich co[me] . . . hire ane naked grome . . . . . . . me wel loþe . . . . . . . hem boþe. and ich was so wroþ and wod and ȝet ihc wiþ drou . . . . Þat ich hadde after . . . . To wreke me þoruh iugem[ent]. Nou ȝe habbeþ iherd hou it is. Awrekeþ me of mine fon." ¶ Þo spak a king of þulk . . "Ȝe habbeþ iherd þis. . . . Ak are we hem to deþe . . . We schullen i heren þe . . . What huy wolleþ speke . . . and ȝif huy wolleþ ou . . . Hit nis no riȝht iugem[ent]." Wiþ oute onsuere . . . . . ¶ Þe king of nubie . . . . "Sire, so ne schal hit. . . . Traitour þat is nome hond . . Hit is riȝht þoru alle þ . . . To beo for don oþer i sch . . Wiþ outen oni here of . . . Al þis ihc . . and lag . . and bereþ him þer of w . . . After þes childeren . . . . Hem to for berne þer. . . . Twene seriauns hem forþ bringe To fonge here dom sore wepin[ge] Dreri weren þo chyldren . . Her eyþer by wepeþ oþer . . ¶ Þo seyde floyres to blanche[flur] Of vre liue nis no soc[ur].

Cambridge MS. Gg. 4. 27. 2.

Heo tok forþ a wel fair þing, Of hire finger a riche Ryng. "Mi sone," heo sede, "haue þis ring. Whil he is þin, ne dute noþing, Þat fur þe brenne ne adrenche se, Ne ire ne steil ne mai þe sle. And to þi wil þu schalt habbe grace, Late and rathe in eche place." Floris nimeþ nu his leue; No longer nolde he bileue. He custe hem wiþ softe muþe; Al wepinge hi departeþ nuþe. Ne makede his Moder non oþer chere, Bute also he were ileid on bere. For him ne wende hi neuere mo Eft to sen; ne dude hi no. Forþ he wende wiþ al his mein, And wiþ him his fader chaumberlein. Fort to þe hauene hi beoþ icume, And þer habbeþ here in inome. At þe selue huse hi buþ aliȝt Þat blauncheflur was þat oþer niȝt. Riche soper þer was idiȝt, And murie hi verden þer aniȝt. Floriz ne let for ne feo To finden al þat neod beo, Of fless, of fiss, of tendre bred, Of whit win, and eke red. Glad and bliþe hi weren alle Þat weren wiþ hem in þe halle, And pleide and gamenede ehc wiþ oþer. Ac floriȝ þencheþ al on oþer, For he net ne dronk riȝt noȝt. On blauncheflur was al his þoȝt. Þe lefdi of þer inne vnderȝat Þat he murninge sat. To hire louerd heo sede wiþ stille dreme, "Sire, nimestu no ȝeme Hu þis child murninge sit? Mete ne drinke he nabit. He net mete ne he ne drinkeþ; Nis he no marchaunt, ase me þinkeþ." "Floriz," heo sede, "what mai þe beo, Þus murninge as ich þe seo? Þus her inne þis oþer day Sat blauncheflur, þat faire may." Ord and ende he haþ him told, Hu blauncheflur was þarinne isold. [No gap in MS.] "Þu art hire ilich of alle þinge, Boþe of semblaunt and of murninge, Of fairnesse and of muchelhede, Bute þu ert a man and heo a maide." Þo floriz iherde his lemman nempne, So blisful him þuȝte þilke steuene, He let fulle a cupe of win. "Dame," he sede, "þis hail is þin, Þat win and þat gold eke, For þu of mi lemman speke. For hire iþoȝte, for hire isiȝte, For inot wher hire seche miȝte. Hire to seche ihc wille i wende, Þeȝ heo beo at þe wordles ende." [No gap in MS.] Floriz geȝ to his rest; On blauncheflur he þoȝte mest. Ac rest ne miȝte he nabbe none, Fort þe dide slep him nome. A moreȝe so sone so hit was day He tok his leue and wente his way, And dude him into þe salte flod; He hadde wind and weder ful god. Þe Mariner he ȝaf largeliche, Þat broȝte him ouer bluþeliche. Þer hi wolden hem self alonde, For hi funden hem so hende, To þe lond þer his lemman is; Him þuȝte he was in parais. Anon me him tiþinge tolde Þat þe admiral wolde feste h[olde]. Erles, baruns þer come sch[olde], And þat wolden of him h[olde]. [No gap in MS.] Bliþe was floriz of þe tiþinge; He hopede come to þat gesninge. Wel he hopede among hem alle His lemman sen in þe halle. To a riche Cite hi buþ icume; Vaire hi habbeþ here in inome, At one paleis suþe riche; Þe lord of þer inne nas non his liche. Him feol gold inoȝ to honde, Boþe in water and in londe. He hadde ilad his lif ful wide; Þis child he sette next his side. Glad and bliþe hi weren alle, So fele so were in þe halle. [No gap in MS.] Ac floriz net ne dronk noȝt; Of blauncheflur was al his þoȝt. Þe lord of þerinne vnderȝat Þat þis child murninge sat. "Floriz," he sede, "what mai þe beo, Þus murninge þat ihc þe seo? [Þ]us herinne þis oþer day [S]at blauncheflur þat faire may. [I]n halle ne in bur ne at bord, [O]f hire ne herde we neure a word. [B]ute of floriz was hire mone; [Heo] nadde in herte ioie none." [Whanne] herde he nempnen his lem∣man, [Bliþe] he was iwis for þan. [He lat] bringe a cupe of seluer [And eke] a pane of menuuer. [Þanne] he sede, "haue þis to þin honur, [So þ]u speke of blauncheflur. [Þu mi]ȝtest make min heorte ful glad; [Þu tel]le me wuder heo were ilad." [Þanne] sede þe burgeis, [Þat was] wel hende and curtais, [No gap in MS.] ["To Babi]lloigne he was ibroȝt; [Þe adm]iral hire haȝ iboȝt." [Floriz go]þ to his rest; [On Blaunch]eflur he þoȝte mest. Ac reste ne miȝte he habbe none; Fort þe dide slep him nome. Amoreȝe so sone so hit was day, He nem his liue, and wende his way. [No gap in MS.] And for his niȝtes gestinge He ȝaf his oste an hundred schillinge. [No gap in MS.] And ȝerne he haþ his oste bisoȝt Þat he him helpe wiþ al his þoȝt, In Babilloine, oþer wher a beo, Þat he miȝte hire iseo, Hu he miȝte mid sume ginne, His lemman blauncheflur awinne. Þanne sede þe burgeis, Þat was hende and curtais, At babilloine atte frume, To one brigge þu schalt cume. Whane þu comest to þe ȝate, Þe porter þu schalt find þarate. Wel hende man and fair he is; He is icluped sire daris. Mi felaȝe he is þureȝ truþe ipliȝt, And he kan rede þe ariȝt. Haue and ber him þis ring, On mine halue to tokning, Þat he þe helpe in alle halue, Ase he wolde me selue." Floriz herof was wel bliþe, And þonkede his oste wel suiþe. Feire of him he nimeþ leue; No lengur nolde he bileue. Biþat hit was middai hiȝ, Floriz was þe brigge niȝ. Þe he com to þe gate Þe porter he fond anon þerate, Sittinde one a marbelston, Suþe fair and hende mon, And so him sede child floriz, "Rest þe murie, sire daris," And tok him to tokne þis ring; And þerfore he hauede wel fair gest∣ning. Glade and bliþe hi weren alle, So fele so weren in þe halle, Ac floriz net ne dronk noȝt; On blauncheflur was al his þoȝt. Sire daris vnderȝet Þat floriz murninge set. "Floriz," he sede, "what mai þe beo, So þoȝtful ase ihc þe seo? Me þincheþ bi þine chire, Þu nert noȝt glad of þi sopere, Oþer þe ne likeþ noȝt þis in." Þo floriz ansuerede him: "Sire," he sede, "bi godes ore, So god in nauede ihc wel ȝore, Vre louerd me lete ibide þe day Þat ihc hit þe ȝulde may. Ihc þenche, sire, on fele wise Nu vpon mi marchaundise, Last ine finde noȝt atte frume Þat þing for whi ihc am hider icume. And þeȝ ihc hit finde hit is mi wo Lest ihc schulle hit forgo." Þo sede daris, þe freo burgeis, Þat was wel hende and curteis, "Fain ihc wolde þe rede and lere, Þat þu muche þe betere were, Ȝef þu toldest me þi gref, To rede þe me were lef." Þo floriz bigan his consail schewe, And to daris beon iknewe. Ord and ende he haþ him told, Hu blauncheflur was isold, And hu he was a kinges sune, For hire luue þider icume, To fonde þureȝ sume cunnes ginne His lemman blauncheflur biwinne. Daris þanne floriz bihalt, And for more þane fol him halt. "Floriz," he sede, "iseo hu hit geþ; Þu ert abute þinoȝe deþ. Þe Admiral haueþ to his gestninge Oþer half hundred of riche kinges. Ne þer nis non so riche king Þat dorste entermeten of eni such þing, Þilke maide to awinne, Noþer wiþ strengþe ne wiþ ginne, And þe Admiral hit miȝte iwite, Þat he nere of his lif aquite. And Babilloine, ihc vnderstonde, Dureþ abute furtenniȝt gonde. Abute þe walle þer buþ ate, Seuesiþe tuenti ȝates. And ine þe bureȝ amidde riȝt Beoþ twe tures ipiȝt. Eche day in al þe ȝere Þe feire is þer iliche plenere. Seue hundred tures and two Beoþ in þe burȝ, biþute mo. [No gap in MS.] And ine þe burȝ amidde riȝt, Beoþ twe tures ipiȝt, [No gap in MS.] Of lym and of marbelston; In þe world nis swich tur non. In þe tur þer is a welle, Suþe cler hit is wiþ alle. He vrneþ in o pipe of bras, Whider so hit ned was. Fram flore in to flore Þe strimes vrneþ store, Fram bure in to halle Þe strimes of þis welle. In þe tur is o kernel Of seluer and of crestel. On þe tur anouenon Is a charbugleston Þat ȝiueþ leme day and niȝt, Ne bi hit neuere so derk niȝt. In þe bureȝ ne darf me berne Lampe ne torche ne lanterne, Þat he ne ȝiueþ liȝt and leme As doþ a day þe sunne beme. Þe porter is prud wiþalle; Eche day he goþ on þe walle. And ef þer comeþ eniman Biþinne þilke barbecan, Bute he him ȝeue leue, He wule him boþe bete and reue. Þe porter is culuart and felun; He wule him sette areisun. "Þer buþ in þe hiȝe tur Forti Maidenes and four. Wel were þat ilke mon Þat miȝte winne wiþ þat on. Ne þorte he neure ful iwis Wilne more of paradis. Þer buþ seriauns in þe stage Þat serueþ þe maidenes of parage. Ac ne mot þer non ben inne Þat one þe breche bereþ þe ginne, Noþer bi daie ne biniȝt, Bute he also capun beo idiȝt. [No gap in MS.] And þe Admiral is such a gume, In al þe world nis such a sune. Ne bu his wife neure so schene, Bute o ȝer ne schal heo beon his quene. Þeȝ heo luue him ase hire lif, Þat he nele habbe anoþer wif. And, floriz, imai þe telle fore, Heo schal beon his quene icore. Alle þe maidenes of parage Me schal bringe adun of þe stage, And leden hem in to on orchard, Þe faireste of al þe Middellerd. Abute þe orchard is a wal; Þe eþelikeste ston is cristal. Ho so wonede a moneþ in þat spray, Nolde him neure longen away. So merie is þerinne þe foȝeles song, Þat ioie and blisse is eure among. In þe orchard is a welle Þat is suþe cler wiþ alle. Ihc mai seggen iwis, Þe strimes comeþ fram paradis. For in þe strimes þe smale stones, Hi beoþ þer funden eurech one, Boþe saphirs and sardoines, And suþþe riche cassidoines, And Iacinctes and topaces, And onicle of muchel grace, And mani on oþer direwerþe ston Þat ich nu nempne ne can. Aboue þe walle stant atreo Þat faireste þat miȝte in erþe beo. Hit is ihote þe treo of luue, For lef and blosme beoþ þer buue. So sone so þe olde beoþ idon, Þer springeþ niwe riȝt anon. Alle þilke þat clene maidenes beo, Schulle sitte arewe vnder þat treo; And which falleþ on þat furste flur Schal beo quene and fonge þonur. Ȝef þer is eni maide forleie, Þe wal is of so muchel eie, An heo stepe to þe grunde, For to wassche hire honde, Ha bulmeþ vp so he were wod, And chaungeþ fram water in to blod. On wuche þe welle fareþ so, Also suiþe he wurþ fordo. Ac ȝef þer eni maiden is, Þat þe Admiral luueþ mest of pris, On hire schal beo þat flur i went, Þureȝ coniureson and chauntement. Þus he cheoseþ his wif þureȝ þe flur; Alle weneþ hit schulle beo blaunche∣flur." Ihc wene ne darf me axi noȝt If floriz were of dreri þoȝt. [No gap in MS.] "Daris," he sede, "ihc wurthe ded Bute if þu do me summe red." Þanne se Daris, þe freo burgeis, Þat was wel hende and curteis, "Floriz," he sede, "leue man, Þe beste red þat ihc þe can, Wend tomoreȝe to þe Tur, Also þu were a gud ginnur. Ber wiþ þe squire and schauntillun, Also þu were a gud Mascun. Bihold of þe ture þe hiȝhede, And wiþ þi fot met þe brede. Þe porter is culuert and felun; Forþ he wule setten his resun, And bere vpon þe felonie, And segge þat þu art a spie. Ansuare him wel hendeliche, And spek wiþ him wel sueteliche, And seie þert icome fram ferren londe, For to seche and for to fonde, If mi lif so longe ilast, To makie atur after þis cast, In þine londe ate frume Whanne þu ert hom icume. Whane he þe hireþ speke so hende∣liche, And ansuerie so sueteliche, Þenne he wule come þe nier, And bidde þe pleie at þe escheker. Whane þescheker is forþ ibroȝt Biþute panes ne plei þu noȝt. Þu most habbe redi mitte Twenti Marc ine þi slitte. Þeȝ þu biwinne oȝt of his, Hold hit of wel litel pris. If he biwinneþ oȝt of þe, Ȝif him of þine suche þre. Muche he wule þonki þe And of þe suþe iwundred beo, For he is suþe couetus, And at þescheker enuius. Ȝerne he wile þe bidde and preie Þat þu come amoreȝe and pleie. Grante him þat þu wilt so, And tak mid amoreȝe suche two. And wel þi nedes for to do Þat þridde day þu wend him to, And ber wiþ þe forti pund, And þine cupe hol and sund. Whanne þu lest lest him þe cupe iseo, Wel angussus he wile beo. He wile beo wel coveitus, And hire to bigge suþe fus. Muchel he þe wule beode If him miȝte þe betere spede. Ihc wot he wille þilke day Honure þe so muche so he may. He wule þe lede to his inne Þe cupe of þe to biwinne. Ȝerne he wule þe bidde and preie Þat þu legge þe cupe to pleie. Þu him ansuere atte furste, Þat no leng pleie þe ne luste. Ansuere him wel hendeliche, 'Þin beo þe cupe,' seie bluþeliche. For his gode compaygnie A wunne he haþ þi druerie. Ihc wot þat he mai alrebest Of þine neode helpe þe mest. Þu miȝt segge, 'þe ne faileþ non Gold ne seluer ne riche won.' Seie þu wilt parte wiþ him of þan, Þat he schal eure beo riche man. Whanne he hereþ þe speke so riche∣liche, And ansuerie so hendeliche, Þanne he wile beo wel bliþe, And biginne to luuie þe suiþe, And falle he wile to þi fote, And bicome þi man, if he mote. His manrede þu schalt fonge, And his truþe of his honde, Þat he þe bere al þe helde Þat man schal to his louerd ȝelde. And þus þureȝ þe cupe and his ginne Þu miȝt þi lemman best awinne. Þanne þu miȝt beon iknewe, And þi cunsail to him schewe." And alþus floris hath iwroȝt, As daris him haþ itaȝt. Ac þureþ (sic) þe cupe and þureȝ gersume, Þe porter is his man bicume. [No gap in MS.] ¶ Nu quaþ floriz, "þu art mi man; Al mi trest is þe vpon. Þeruore þu most me helpe nede; Biþute þe ne mai me spede." Ord and ende he haþ him told, Hu þat maide was isold, And hu he was of spaygne a kinges sune, For hire luue he was þider icume, To fonde mid sume kunnes ginne, Hu he miȝte hire awinne. Þo þe porter iherde þis, he siȝte, "Ihc am," he sede, "bitraid wiþ riȝte, Þat þureȝ þis cupe and þis gersume Ihc am nu þi man bicume. Nu ihc seo hu hit geþ; For þe ihc drede þolien deþ. Noȝt for þan while ihc mai go, I ne schal þe failli neure mo. What me bitide oþer bifalle, Ihc schal þe foreward holden alle. I-wend nu, floriz, to þin inne, While i biþenche of sume ginne. Ihc wulle fonde what ido may Bituene þis and þe þridde day." Floriz siȝte and weop among Þulke terme him þuȝte long. ÞE porter þoȝte what to rede; He let flures gadere on þe mede. Cupen he let fulle of flures, To strawen in þe maidenes bures. Þat was his red to helpe him so; He let floriz-on þat on cupe go. Tuei gegges þe cupe bere, And for heuie wroþ hi were. Hi beden God ȝiue him vuel fin, Þat so manie flures dude þerin. To þe chaumbre þer hi scholde go, Ne ȝeden hi ariȝt no. To anoþer chaumbre hi beoþ agon, To blauncheflures chaumbre non. [No gap in MS.] Þe cupe hi sette to þe grunde, And goþ forþ and leteȝ hire stonde. O maiden com and wolde Þe flures handlen and biholde. Floriz wende hit were his swete wiȝt; Vt of þe cupe he lep ariȝt; And þat maide, for þe drede, Bigan to crie and to grede. Þo nuste floriz what to rede, For þe ferlich þat he hadde. Into þe cupe he sterte aȝen, And wiþ þe flures he hudde him. Þis maide þoȝte anon riȝt Þat hit was floriz, þat suete wiȝt, For here chaumbres niȝ were; Selde was þat hi togadere nere; And ofte blauncheflur hire hadde itold Hu heo was fram him isold. Nu Maidenes comeþ in to hire lepe, Wel fiftene in on hepe, And axede hire what hire were, And whi heo makede suche bere. Wel heo was biþoȝt and whare, To finden hem ansuare. [No gap in MS.] "To þe cupe," heo sede, "ihc com and wolde Þis flures handlen and biholde, Þer fliste vt a buterfliȝe, Are ihc wiste, on min iȝe. So sore ihc was offerd of þan, Þat ihc crie bigan." Þis oþere loȝen and hadde gleo, And goþ aȝen and leteþ beo. CLarice hatte þat maide hende: To blauncheflures chaumbre heo gan wende, And sede, "suete blauncheflur, Wiltu seo a wel fair flur? Hit ne greu noȝt on þis londe, Þat flur þat ihc bringe þe to honde." "Away, Clariz," quaþ blancheflur; "Ho þat luueþ þar amur And haþ þer of ioye, mai luue flures; Ac ic libbe in soreȝe in þis tures, For ihc wene bithute gabbe, Þat þe Admiral me wule habbe. Ac þilke day ne schal neure be; Ne schal me neure at-wite me, Þat ihc beo of luue vntrewe, Ne chaunge luue for no newe, Ne lete þe olde for no newe be, So doþ floriz on his Contre. Ac þeȝ floriz forȝe me, Ne schal ihc neure forȝete þe." Clariz iherde þes ille reuþe, Of trewnesse and of trewþe. Þe terres glide of hire lere; "Blauncheflur," he sede, "go we ifere, Leue suete blauncheflur, Cum and se a well fair flur." To gedere hi goþ nu iwis, And floriz haþ iherd al þis. Vt of þe cupe he lep anon, And to blauncheflur he gan gon. Eiþer oþer sone ikneu; Boþe nuþe hi chaungeþ heu. To gadere wiþute word hi lepen, Klepte and keste and eke weopen Here kessinge ileste a mile; And þat hem þuȝte litel while. Clarice biheold al þis, Here cuntenaunce and here blis. Seide Clarice to blauncheflur, "Knowestu oȝt ȝete þis flur? A litel er þu noldest hit se; Nu ne miȝte hit lete fram þe. He moste kunne muchel of art Þat þu woldest ȝeue þer of part." "Certes," quaþ blauncheflur to Clariz, "Þis is min oȝene suete floriz." Nu boþe tuo, þes suete þinges, Crieþ hire merci, al wepinge, To þe Admiral þat hem ne wreie, For þenne were here soreȝe niwe. Clarice hadde of hem pite; "Noþing," heo sede, "ne dute ȝe, Ne dute ȝe nammore wiþ alle, Þat hit were to me bifalle. Hele ihc wulle and noþing wreie, Ower beire cumpaignie." Clarice hem haþ to bedde ibroȝt, Þat was of pal and selc iwroȝt. In bedde heo broȝte hem adun, An hure self wende hem fram. [No gap in MS.] Þo floriz furst speke bigan. "Vre louerd," he sede, "þat makedest man, Þe ihc þonki, godes sune, Þat ihc am to mi leof icume. Mi leof, nu ihc habbe þe ifunde, Of al mi care ihc am vnbunde." Nu aiþer haþ oþer itold Of here soreȝe and care cold, Þat hi hadde ifunde bo Suþþe hi were ideld atuo. Nu hi cluppeþ and cusseþ And makeþ togadere muchel blisse. If þer was aȝt bute custe, Swete blauncheflur hit wiste. Non oþer heuene hi ne bede, Bute eure swich lif to lede. Ac longe ne miȝte hi hem wite Þat hi neren vnderȝete. Vor þe Admiral hadde such a wune, Ehc moretid þer moste cume Tuo maidenes wiþ muchel honur Into þe heȝeste Tur, Þat were feire and suþe hende, Þat on his heued for to kembe, Þat [oþer] bringe towaille and bacin, For to wasse his honden in. Swiche him serueþ a day so faire; Amoreȝe moste anoþer peire. Ac mest were iwuned in to þe tur Maide Clariz and blauncheflur. Clarice, ioie mote hire bitide, Aros vp in þe moreȝentide, And haþ icluped blauncheflur To go wiþ hire in to þe tur. Quaþ blauncheflur, "ihc am com∣inge." Ac heo hit sede al slepinge. Clariz com in to þe Tur; Þe Admiral axede blauncheflur. "Sire, Alniȝt heo set at hire boke, And haþ þeron irad and loke, And þeron ibede hire oresun, Þat god, þat þolede passiun, Þe holde, sire, longe aliue; And nu heo is asleped suiþe, [No gap in MS.] Þat heo ne mai come to þe." "Is þat soþ?" sede he. Heo sede, "ȝe, sire, withute lesing." "Heo is," he sede, "a suete þing; Wel aȝte ihc willen hire to wif, Þat so ȝerne biddeþ mi lif." Amoreȝe, þo Clariz arist, Blauncheflur heo atwist Þat he makede so longe demure. "Aris," heo sede, "and go we ifere." Quaþ blauncheflur, "ich come anon." Ac floriz cleppen hire bigon, And he him also vnwise And feolle aslepe one þis wise. Þo Clarice to þe piler com, And þe bacin of golde nom, To bere wiþ into þe Tur, Heo lokede after blauncheflur. Þo Clarice com into þe tur, He axede after blauncheflur. "Sire, ihc wende hire finde here; He was arise are ihc were. Nis heo noȝt icume ȝete?" Quaþ he, "heo duteþ me to lite." He clupede to him his chaumberlayn, And het him go wiþ alle mayn, For to wite whi heo ne come To his heste suthe sone. Forþ he wende sone anon To hire chaumbre þat he com. In hire bedde he fond tuo, Wel faste iclupt, aslepe bo, Neb to neb and muþ to muþ; Sone were here soreȝeren cuþ. [T]o þe Admiral sone he teȝ [A]nd tolde him what he iseȝ. [Þe] Admiral het his suerd bringe; [Iw]ite he wolde of þus þinge. [Fo]rþ he wende wiþ al his mayn, [He] and his chaumberlayn. [In] þe bed heo fond tueie; [Ȝit] was þe slep in here eie. [He] let Adun þe cloþes caste [Bin]eþen here breste. Bi here breste he kneu anon Þat on was maide and þat oþer a mon. [No gap in MS.] [No gap in MS.] Þe children awoke þo anon And seȝe þe Admiral biuore hem gon, Wiþ his suerd al adraȝe; Sore hi beoþ offerd and wel maȝe. "Seie," quaþ þe Admiral, "belamy, Ho makede þe so hardy, For to come in to mi Tur And to ligge bi blauncheflur?" Hi crieȝ him "merci," boþe suiþe, Þat he ȝiue hem furst of liue. After his barnage he haþ isend, To awreke him wiþ iugement. And let hem þe while binde faste, And in to prison ben icaste. His palais þat was so faire ibuld, Of Erles and barons hit was ifuld. Vp he stod among hem alle, Bi semblaunt wel wroþ wiþ alle. "Lordinges," he sede, "wiþ muchel honur, Ȝe habbeþ iherd of blauncheflur, Hu ihc hire boȝte apliȝt, For seuesiþe of gold hire wiȝt. To hire was mi meste wene, For to habbe to mi quene. [No gap in MS.] Nis noȝt ȝore þat i ne com And fond hire wiþ hordom, Me to schame and deshonur, In hire bedde on mi Tur. [No gap in MS.] Ihc habbe ȝou told hu hit is went; A wrekeþ me wiþ Jugement." [No gap in MS.] Þanne spak a freo burgeis, Þat was hende and curt[eis], "Sire, are hi beo to diþe awreke, We mote ihere þe children speke. [No gap in MS.] Hit nere noȝt elles rist iugement, Biþuten ansuare to acupement." Þe king of Nubie sede þo, "For soþ, ne schal hit noȝt go so. Hit is riȝt þureȝ alle þing Felons inome hond habbing, For to suffre Jugement Biþute ansuere oþer acupement." After þe children nu me sendeþ; Hem to berne fir me tendeþ. [No gap in MS.] Seide floriz to blauncheflur, "Of vre lif nis no sucur; Ac min is þe guld and þe vnmeþ, Þat þu for me schalt þolie deþ. Ac if cunde hit þolie miȝte, Ihc oȝte deie tuye wiþ riȝte. O deþ for þe, on oþer for me; For þis þu þolest nu for me. For if i nere in to þis tur icume, Wiþ mireȝþe þu miȝtest her inne wune." He droȝ forþ a riche ring, His moder him ȝaf at his parting. "Haue þis ring, lemman min, Þu me miȝt noȝt deie þe while he is þin." Þe ring he haueþ forþ araȝt And to blauncheflur bitaȝt. "Þe ring ne schal neure aredde me; For deþ ne mai ihc se on þe." Þe ring heo wolde aȝe reche, And to floriz him biteche. Ac for al þat heo miȝte do, He him nolde aȝen ifo. And þe ring bi one stunde, Fel adun to þe grunde. A duc stupede and him vp nom, And was þer of wel bliþe mon. Nu þes childre forþ me bringeþ To here dom, al wepinge. [No gap in MS.] Ac þer nas non so sturne mon, Þat hem lokede vpon, Þat nolde þo suþe saȝe Þat iugement were wiþdraȝe. [No gap in MS.] For floriz was so fair ȝongling, And blauncheflur so suete þing, Of men and wimmen þat buþ nuþe, Þat goþ and seoþ and spekeþ wiþ muþe, Ne buþ so faire in here gladnesse, So hi were in here sorinesse. Ac þe admiral was so wroþ and wod, He quakede for grame þer he stod. And het hem binde wel faste And in to þe fire caste. Þe duc þat þe ring funde, Com to þe Admiral and runde, And al to gadere he gan him schewe; Of þat þe children were biknewe. Þe Admiral let hem aȝen clepe, For he wolde wiþ floriz speke. [No gap in MS.] "Sire," quaþ floriz, "forsoþ ihc telle, Þu noȝtest noȝt þat maide quelle. Of al þis gilt ihc am to wite; Ihc oȝte deie and he go quite." Quaþ blauncheflur, "aquel þu me, And let floriz aliue be. Ȝef hit nere for mi luue, He nere noȝt fram his londe icome." Quaþ þe Admiral, "so ihc mote go, Ȝe schulle deie togadere bo. Miself ihc wulle me awreke; Ne schulle ȝe neure go ne speke." Floriz forþ his nekke bed, And blauncheflur wiþdraȝe him ȝet. Blauncheflur bid forþ hire suere, And floriz aȝen hire gan tire. Neiþer ne miȝte þere þole Þat oþer deide bifore. Þo þe Admiral, þeȝ he wroþ were, Þer he chaungede his chere. For he seȝ þat eyþer wolde for oþer deie, And for he seȝ mani wepinde eie, And for he luuede so muche þat mai, Al wepinge he turnde away. His swerd fel of his hond to grunde; Ne miȝte he hit holde þulke stunde. Þe duc þat here ring hadde, For hem to speke wille he hadde. "Sire Admiral," he sede, "iwis Hit is þe wel litel pris Þis feire children for to quelle. Ac betere hit is þat hi þe telle Hu he com in to þi tur, To ligge þer bi blauncheflur. His engin whan þu hit wite, Þe betere wiþ oþere þu miȝt þe wite." Alle þat herde wordes his, Bisecheþ þat he granti þis. He het him telle his engin, Hu he to blauncheflur com in, And to him radde and help þarto. "þat," quaþ he, "nelle ihc neure do, For þing þat me mai me do, Bute hit hem beo forȝiue also. Alle þoþere bisecheþ þis, And of þe Admiral igranted is. Nu ord and ende he haþ hem itold, Hu bla[un]cheflur was fram him isold, And hu he was of spaygne a kinges sone, For hire luue þuder icume, To fonden wiþ sume gīnne, Hu he miȝte hure awinne, And hu þureȝ þe cupe and þureȝ þe gersume, Þe porter was his man bicume, And hu he was in a cupe ibore; Alle þes oþere lowe þeruore. Þe Admiral þo, wel him bitide, Þat Child he sette bi his side, And haþ forȝiue his wraþþe bo, Floriz and blauncheflur also. And sede wiþ him hi scholde be, Þe beste of al his maine. And floriz he makeþ stonde vpriȝt, And þer he dubbede him to kniȝt. Nu boþe togadere þes childre for blisse Falleþ to his fet hem to kisse. He let hem to one Chirche bringe, And spusen hem wiþ one gold ringe. [No gap in MS.] Þureȝ þe red of blauncheflur, Me fette Clariz adun of þe Tur. Þe Admiral hire nam to quene. Þilke feste was wel breme, For þer was alle kunnes gleo, Þat miȝte at eni briddale beo. Hit nas þer after noþing longe Þat þer com floriz writ and sonde, Þat þe king his fader was ded, And þat he scholde nimen his red. Þanne seide þe Admiral, "If þu dost bi mi consail, Bilef wiþ me; ne wend naȝt hom, Ihc wulle ȝeue þe a kinedom Also long and also brod, Also eure ȝet þi fader ibod." Ac floriz nolde for no winne; Leuere him were wiþ his kinne. Þe Admiral he bid god day, And þonkede Clariz þat faire may, And to hire he haþ iȝolde 809 Floris makes rich presents in parting, and comes home, where he and Blauncheflur reign as king and queen. Twenti pond of ride golde. And to Daris þat him so taȝte, Twenti pund he araȝte. And alle þat for him duden eidel, He ȝeld here while suþe wel. He bitaȝte hem alle godalmiȝte And com hom whane he miȝte. He was king wiþ Muchel honur, And heo his quene blauncheflur. Nu ȝe habbeþ iherd þane ende Of floriz and his lemman hende, Hu after bale comeþ bote; God leue þat vs so mote, Þat we him mote louie so, Þat we mote to heuene go. AMEN. E-X-PLI-C-IT. ¶ ASSUMPCIOUN DE NOTRE DAME

Cambr. Univ. MS. Gg. 4. 27. 2.

MErie tale telle ihc þis day Of seinte Marye þat swete may. Al is þe tale and þis lescoun Of hire swete assompcioun, Hu heo was fram erþe ynome In to blisse wiþ hire sone. Þe kyng of heuene hem blessi Þat þis listneþ and wel herkni. Alle moten hi iblessed beo, Þat vnderstonde wel þis gleo. [No gap in MS.] ¶ Whan ihesu crist was don on rode, And þolede deþ for vre gode, He clepede to hym seint Iohan Þat was his oȝe qenes man, And his oȝene moder also; Ne clepede he hym feren no mo. And sede, "wif, lo her þi child, Þat on þe rode is ispild. [No gap in MS.] Nu ihc am honged on þis tre, Wel sore ihc wot hit reweþ þe. Mine fet and honden of blod [buþ red]; Biþute gult ih[c] þolie þis ded. Mine men þat aȝte me to loue, For whan ihc com fram heuene abuue, Me haueþ idon þis ilke schame, Ihc naue no gult; hi buþ to blame. To mi fader ihc bidde mi bone Þat he forȝiue hit hem welsone." ¶ Marie stod and sore weop; Þe terres feolle to hire fet. No wunder nas þeȝ heo wepe sore; Of soreȝe ne miȝte heo wite nomore, Whenne he þat of hire nam blod and fless, Also his suete wille was, Heng Inayled on þe treo. "Alas, my sone," seide heo, "Hu may ihc liue? hu may þis beo? Hu mai ihc al þis soreȝe iseo? Ne cuþe ihc neure of soreȝe noȝt; Mi leue sone, wat hastu þoȝt? Hou schal ihc lyue biþute þe? Leue sone, what seistu me?" ¶ Þo spac ihesu wordes gode, Þer he heng vpon þe rode, And sede to his moder dere, "Ihc schal þe teche a trewe ifere, Þat trewliche schal loky þe, Þe while þat þu in erþe be." ¶ Þo seide vre lord to seint Iohan, "For my loue qep me þis wymman. Ȝem hire wel wiþ al þi miȝte Þat noman do hure non vnriȝte." [No gap in MS.] In to þe temple mid hire he nam, And also sone so he þar cam, Among þe lefdis in þe stede, God to serui he hire dude. Þer bilefte heo al hure lif; Ne louede he noþer fiȝt ne strif, Þeo þat in þe temple were, Ne miȝte noȝt hire forbere. Wiþ al hure miȝte þe while heo was þore, Heo seruede boþe lasse and more; Poure and sike he dude god, And seruede hem to hond and fot. Poure and hungrie wel faire he fedde, And sike heo broȝte in here bedde. Nas þer non so hol ne fer, Þat to hire nadde mester. Hi louede hure alle wiþ here miȝte, For heo seruede hem wel riȝte. He wakede more þane slep; Hire sone to serui was al hire kep. To him heo clupede wiþ Murie steuene, And hire he sente an aungel fram heuene, Te gladie hire him self he cam, Crist þat fless of hire nam. ¶ Seint Ion hire kepte and was hire dere; He was hire eure a trewe fere. Nolde he neure fram hire gon; Al þat heo wolde he dude anon. Þe whiles hi were in þat stede, Al þat heo wolde he hit dede. Whane heo hadde beo þer longe, Ten wyntere hem amonge, Hire sone wolde heo come hym to, Whane he hit wolde, hit was ido. ¶ He sente hire on Aungel of heuene, And grette hire wiþ murie steuene. In þe temple he bad hire bede; Þer liȝte þe aungel in þat stede, And sede, "lefdi ful of grace, "Wel þe beo in eche place. Ne beo noȝt of drad þeȝ ihc beo her; Ihc am þi sones Messager. Fram hym to þe ihc am icome Þe grette wel þi dere sone. Flur of erþe, of heuene quen, Iblessed mote þu eure ben. Wel beo þe time þat þu were ibore, For al þis worlde were forlore; Ef þu nere and þat frut of þe, Marie lefdi, wel þe be. Lefdi, best of alle þinge, Wel bliþe bode ihc þe bringe, Nym þis palm wiþ þi riȝt honde; Hit is þi dere sones sonde. He þinkeþ long hym to se; Ne schaltu her no lenger beo. He wile senden after þe, Fram heuene adun of his meigne, And fecche þe in to his blisse, Þat eure schal leste wiþute misse. Þer he is kyng þu schalt beo quen; Al heuene for þe schal bliþe beon." [No gap in MS.] ¶ Þanne ansuaredi vre lefdi, To þe aungel þat stod hire by, "Artu Mi sones Messager, Þat bringest me þis greting her? Haþ he set me any day Aȝenes þat ihc me greþi may, And nyme lyue of mine kenesmen, And myne frend þat wiþ me beon, And of him þat haþ me cloþed and fed, And don also my sone hym bed?" ¶ Þo sede þe aungel, "ihc telle þe; Þu ne schalt beo her bute daȝes þre. Þe þridde day we schulle come, Aungles fram heuene aboue, "And fette þe wiþ murye song; For after þe us þinket long." ¶ Þanne ansuarede vre lefdy, "What is þi name, belamy?" He sede, "my name ne telle ihc þe noȝt; Bute nym þis palm þat ihc habbe þe broȝt, And kep hit wel ihc bidde þe; Ne let hit neure fram þe be. I ne dar no leng dwelle her, For ihc was sent as Messager. To þe apostles ihc schal gon, And bidde hem alle, eurech on, Þat hi beon her þe þridde day; No leng abiden I ne may." ¶ Þo he hadde ydon, to heueue he steȝ; Marie abod and was wel sleȝ, And nam þat palm þat hire was broȝt, And of þat bode heo hadde gret þoȝt, In to hire Chaumbre stille he nam; And so sone so heo þar cam, He dude of al hire hatere, And wessch hire body wyþ clene watere, Þo heo hauede so idon, Al y newe schrud heo dude hire on. Þo heo was schurd and faire iclad, To ihesu crist abone heo bad, And sede, "sone, ihc þonky þe Þat þu hauest iþoȝt of me. Sone, þu ert of heuene kyng, Ihc bidde þe þi blessing; Sone, for þin holy name, Schild me fram pine and fram schame, Þat þe deuel ne habbe no myȝt; To derie me hit were vnriȝt. Sone, help me nu ihc haue ned, Þat ine haue of þe feond no dred, For wiþ þe giles þat he can, He bitraieþ many man. "Leue sone, ne ȝef him noȝt, Þat þu hauest so dere iboȝt. Sune, þu art ful of pite; For senful manne bid ihc þe, Þat þu for þin holy grace, Ȝef hem boþe wille and space, Hem to amendy er hy beo ded, Þat þe deuel hem do no qued. Þenk, sone, þat þu hast hem wroȝt, And þat þu hauest hem dere iboȝt. For hem þu þoledest pine and wo; Wite hem wel fram here fo." ¶ Þo heo hadde bisoȝt so, Hire frend he clupede hire to, Boþe sibbe and fremde Men, Wiþ reuful speche heo spak wiþ hem, And sede, "leue frend, my sone Nele no leng þat ihc her wone; He wile ihc wende and mid him be. And bidde ihc ȝou par charite, Ȝef ihc habbe eny þing mis wroȝt, Telleȝ hit me, ne heleþ hit noȝt. Ihc wulle amende, and þat is riȝt Þat my saule ne beo idriȝt. Þat god ȝe habbeþ me ydon, Mi sone þat was in rode ydon, Man to bigge fram þe ded, Ȝelde hit ȝou at ower ned, And bringe ȝou in to þat blis Þat eure ilest þar my sone is." ¶ Alle þat stoden hire by, Of þat tiþinge were sory, And sede, "lefdi, hu mai hit be? Hu schulle we liue wiþ outen þe? [No gap in MS.] Lefdi dere, what hastu þoȝt? Reu of vs; ne wend þou noȝt. "In soreȝe and in Muche wo Schulle we lyue beo þu vs fro." ¶ Þanne spak vre lefdy To hem þat were hire by, "Leteȝ beon; ower wepinge ne helpeþ noȝt; Habbeþ ioye in ower þoȝt. Þe while ihc am her, wakeþ wiþ me; Hit doþ me god þat ihc ȝou se. Nabbeþ no drede ac witeþ hit wel; Of pine ne schal ihc þole no del. Ne schal no soreȝ come me to, For my sone hit wule so, Mi body ne schal no pine þole, For he was þer of ibore, He þolede pine him self for me, Þo he deide vpon þe tre. He þat is almiȝtful kyng, Schal me sende of his geng. Iohan and þe apostles, whei hy be, Alle hi schulle come to me." Þe while he spac þus to þis men, Of al þat þing nuste noȝt Ion. He come to speke wiþ vre lefdi, And hym þuste heo was sori, And sede, "lefdy, what is þe? For my seruise tel hit me. Lefdi, what is þe ised? Me were leffre to beo ded, Þane iseo þe make such chere. What is þe, my lefdi dere? [No gap in MS.] Ne schal ihc neure habbe blis, Fort þat ihc wite what þe is." Vre lefdi wep and Iohan also; Trewe loue was bituex hem tuo. "Lefdi," he sede, "what is þe? For my loue, tel hit me." Marie ansuerde wiþ Milde steu[ene], "A sonde Me cam while er fram h[euene],

The MS. ends here. Continued from Harl. MS. 2382.

Harl. MS. 2382, lf. 78, bk.

fro my sone a messynger; he wołł no lenger that y be here. but y wote that rueth me, that y shałł departe fro the; for thi loue and thi seruice that thu me dost in al wise. thu hast made me ofte glad; thu has done as my sone bad. my sone shal it yelde to the; y wol hym pray when y hym se." Tho answerd to here seynt Iohan, and was a fułł sory man̄, Iohannes "A, lady Marie, what shal y be when y shałł the no lenger se? my ioye thu art euery dełł; no lenger in erthe worth y wełł, now we shul departe a two." Then seid Marie, "whi seist þou so? for sothe, thogh y go be-fore, Maria yet shal thu not be for-lore. y shall pray my lef sone, that thu may vnto vs come. And o thyng, Iohan, y bidde the, for the loue thu hast to me, loke anone when y am nome, nota hic verbis Marie that the fals Iewys ne come my body for to done shame, for thei haten moche my name. thei wole feyn shame me, that honged my sone on þe rode tre. y wote wełł thei loue me noght; ther-for thei bene mysthought. when y am be-nome fro the, to my body they do no foly. Ihesu Crist oure allere dright, gef ham neuer that ilke myght." seynt Iohan answerd tho, Iohannes "sey me, lady, if it is so, that we shall departe atwo. "swete lady, how shałł y do? sey me þe tyme when it shal be, that thu shalt to heuene te." she seid, "Iohan, that þou shałł se; ne bide y here but dayes thre." Maria Then was Iohan ful hertely sory. Io∣hannes wepand he seyd, "dame, mercy! how shal y leue? how shal y fare? now cometh al my sorow and care. my lord was hard y-broght to detħ, thurgh fals Iewis that couthe no metħ. now shal oure lady me fro; now cometh to me al my woo. wold god that y were ded, for right now can y no red." Maria [leaf 79, bk.] "Nay," she seid, "whi seist thu so? angelis the shałł come to, and loke to the where thu be, erlich and late to comfort the." when she spake to seynt Iohan, thapostellis cam yn euerychon̄, nota de aposto∣lis om∣nibus mira∣culose. and none of hem wiste be-forn̄, how thei were theder y com, and seid, "lady, ne drede þou noght, thi sone hath vs hider broght, to knowe the for oure lady, while that we bene the by." [No gap in MS.] "Blessid," she seid, "be my sone." Maria glad was she was of here come. "y am his moder," so seid he, "glad ther for may y be. now when it is my sones wille to hym y come, and that is skyle, to my body ye loke al so, that my foos ne come ther to. [No gap in MS.] moche hateth they my name; ther for wold thei do me shame. y you bidde pur charite, for the loue ye haue to me, when y fare to heuene blisse, waketh ther my body ys. loketh bothe nyght and day, that þe Iewis bere it not away. thay wold it brenne or do shame. Ihesu, for thi holy name, gef ham neuer strengthe to haue my bodi in erthe for to laue." [leaf 80] Thei answerd, "for sothe, y-wys, it shal be as thi wille ys." The whiles Marie badde here bone to the apostellis euerychone, an Angel a-light on that stede, Angelus and seid, "Marie, god herd þi bede, and all they that bene with the; "loke that thu arayed be. thu shalt to heuene and be quene; ful blithe may thi hert bene. thu shalt in hast be in heuene." when our lady herd this steuene the angel seid here then to, ful of blisse was she tho. to here bed she went to aray, a-boute þe tyme of hy mydday. Iohan the apostell sate here by, to kepe here body sikerly. [No gap in MS.] emonge them alle sone ywys, odor sua∣uissi∣mus de para∣diso venit a swete smełł cam fro paradys, swete it was, and ferly, that alle þat were tho here by, bothe yong and olde and euerychone, thei fełł a-slepe, and þat anone. alle the slepte, saue oure lady. herkeneth now, y tełł yow why. nota de trans∣itu sancte Marie and als sone thei were a-slepe, it gan to thondre al vnmete, and the erthe so swithe gan quake, as al the world shuld to-shake. Marie awaked then seynt Iohan and the apostels euerychon, thre maydens þat were the[re]-ynne, and no man els of hire kynne. "waketh now, and slepe ye nought! Sone y worth to heuene be broght; now is tyme y were a fare, Shałł y neuer more suffre care." [No gap in MS.] Tho cam Iesus from heuene, Ihesus with angelis and archangelis seuene, yn to hire boure with mery song; moche merthe was them among. no wonder thogh ther be blisse in eche place ther Ihesus ys. none of them that were there a soche blisse saw they nere. amonge al blisses of the trone Mary knew here leue sone. Maria when she hym saw, she was ful glad, he herd the bone that she bad. "y-blessed mote that tyme be that thu were borne of me. hit is sene, y am thi moder when thu comest þi self hider. Furst þou sendest thyn apostelis to me; now thu comest with thi meyne, to fette me vnto that blisse that euer lasteth with ałł gladnesse. Sone thu art hider y-come with thyn angelis from a-bone. do þou now what thi wille ys; me hath longed to the, y-wys." Then Iesus to Marie sede, Ihesus [lf. 81] "Moder, with ioye y wołł the lede. of all wymmen the worth best, in heuene blisse that shal lest. ther y am kyng; thu shalt be quene; in grete ioye thu shałł bene." "leue sone, y be-seche the Maria o thyng that thu telle me. shall y any deuyłł se, or any with the shałł be? "for y loue them neuer one, thei bene noght, so mote y gone." "Moder, y sey, drede thu noght; Iesus ne stode it neuer on my thoght, for thu shalt no deuyłł se, y wołł go be-fore the; ne þou shalt no deuyłł herene, but only me and my ferene. Maiden and moder, euer thu be wełł; thu shalt of sorwe wete no dełł. alle the spirettes that meten with the, buxom to the shałł they be. Moder, one thyng y gef to the; thu shalt be in heuene with me. moder, for the loue of the, y wołł haue mercy and pite of al man kynde thurgh þi prayere, yf þou ne were, they were for-lore. and of them namelich nota bene de ser∣uientibus sancte Marie deuote that the serueth trulich, and that to the done mercy crye and sey, 'help vs, dere ladye,' In what synne that thei be, moder, for the loue of the, [No gap in MS.] thogh a man had lad his lyf in onde, in synne, and in strif, yf he on his last dawe wepe and crye, and to the be-knawe, and telle it oute vnto the preste, or in case, vnto his nexte, nota bene de confessione yf that he may do no more, but that he aruwe it sore, in what synne that he be, moder, for the loue of the, I wołł of hym haue mercy. and sitthe he shałł come me by, "thogh a man had fully wroght all the synne that he had thought, and he on his laste day in none other wise may, yf he wepe and telle to the, in what synne that he be, full wełł y shałł his bone here, for thi loue, my moder dere." Alle tho that thu wolt bidde fore and blesse the tyme þat thu were bore. of alle thyng y-blessid thu be, for that y bidde, thu grauntes me." Then Ihesus his hand vp heue, and to his moder his blessyng yeue, and called to hym seynt Mighełł, and seid, "kep thu my moder wełł, that she fele no maner fere; ther is no thyng to me so dere." and when he had the soule hent, [Sidenote: Ihesus assumpsit animam matris] and she was fro the body went, Then all the verdoune of heuene fett that soule full aboue; with the verdoune to heuene thei come, with gret ioye she was yn nome. she was made quene of heuene and blessid hire sone with mylde steuene. [No gap in MS.] Now shałł ye here how she was nome, wher she was, and wheder be-come. [Sidenote: nota modum assumpcionis anime Marie per ihesum] when þe soule fro þe body was nome, god bede seynt Petre to hym come: "for the loue y owe to the my moder-is body thu kep to me. [No gap in MS.] when y first to erthe came, of this body flesħ y name. y was of this body bore, ther-for, Petre, go thu be-fore, and thi bretheren forth with the vnto Iosaphatħ that vale, and leueth it there sone anone; and drede ye nothyng of your foone, To Ierusalem thurgh that toune goth feire with youre processione. [No gap in MS.] foure of them shul bere þe bere, for one shal kepe my moder dere. and for no thyng dredeth ye, for y my self wol with yow be." when Ihesus had thus y-seyd, and the body in bere was leyd, he yeaue them alle his blessyng, and styed to heuene, þer he was kyng. which blessyng he geue tiłł vs, oure blessid lord, swete Iesus. Tho to them seyd seynt Iohan, "go we theder right anone, and gray we tħis processioune, [lf. 82, bk.] And go we syngand thurgh þe toune." foure of the apostelis that ther were, that holy body fourth dud bere. ful mery thei song, and that was right; many tapers ther-with thei light. The Iewis that were Cristes foone, this thei herd sone anone. thei asked what was the crye. we seid it was seynt Marie, that seynt Petre and his fere bare Marye apone a bere. "Allas," quod the Iewis, "for shame, nota contra iudeos yf thei scape, we bene to blame. arme we vs swithe anone and let vs take them euerychone. that body also, take we it, and cast it in-to a foule pytt. Cast we it in a foule sloo, and moche shame we it do." Tho cam thei lepe thedeward; that be-fełł them swithe hard. two of the Iewis that there were, were honged ouer the bere. nota mira∣culum Ihesus Crist wold se no shame, by his moder swetely came. ful sone had thei goddes grame; he them made bothe holt and lame. of alle þe Iewes ther was none that euer myghte further gone. one of them that there were, had knowed Petre be-fore. Iudeus the Iewe gon clepe to Petre sone, and seid to hym with wepand bone: and seid then, "knowest þou noght, when Crist was to deth broght, how thu hym folwest, and y þe knew, now, y the pray, on me thou ruwe, and pray to Crist, if it may be, that he now haue mercy on me." [No gap in MS.] [No gap in MS.] Seynt Petre answerid tho Petrus to the Iewe that was so woo, "yf thu wolt on hym be-leve, whom thy kynne broght to dethe, and that he is goddis sone, and sithens man for vs be come, and that Marie hym bare hire be best, a clene Maide and right honest, and clene vnwemmed with outen man, we shal alle bidde for þe than, to Ihesu Crist that is a-boue, for his owne moder loue, he gef the myght for to go, and brynge the oute of this woo." The Iewe that honged apone the bere, [Sidenote: nota conuersionem Iudei] answerd then as ye may here, and seid, "y be-leue, vnder that fourme, on Ihesu Crist, Maries sone, that Iewis peyned on the rode, with-outen gilt, for oure gode, and for vs he lost his lyf, that Marie bare, maide and wif. y be-seche that he me brynge of this peyne, thurgh your biddynge." Crist vnderstode the Iewis bone. he was holpe, and that anone; on feet and hand he yeaue hym myght, and alle his lymes for to right. he gan to stonde vp anone before the Iewis euerychone. he that was bothe halt and lame be gan to preche in Cristes name, and seid, "worship we euerychone that soche a miracle hath done." Tho seynt Petre, that holi mane, that Iewe Crystened after anone; he taught hym his by-leue; he knew he was to god y-yeue; he ordeyned hym to prest anone, and bade hym that he shuld gone, and preche ouerałł, of goddis sone, in euery lond where he be-come. The palme þat Petre had in hond, he toke it hym, thurgħ goddes sond, and bade hym goddes word to telle to the Iewis that were so felle. Tho he spake the fourthe day, Iudeus conuersus predica∣bat ita christum he turned into goddes fay xx thousant, and somdel mo, thurgh the word þat he spake tho. all the apostolis that þer were, that holy body fourth thei bere [No gap in MS.]

[See the parallel lines to these, on p. 127, col. 1, at foot, and p. 128, col. 1, at top.]

[Not in it] [Not in it] to the vale of Iosephas to ley here, there here wille was, [No gap in MS.] and leid the body in a stone, ther-in was body neuer none. Sepul∣tura sancte Marie frendes and sibbe that þer were, for here wepte many a tere. when she was in the ston done, ayene thei turned euerychone. all the apostelis then were sory for the deth of oure lady; and ther a voice cam them among, that ne lasted not full long, and bade them alle for to gone where thei had for to done. The apostelis went hem ayene in-to the Burgħ of Ierusalem; and as thei sate atte mete, of many thynges thei gon speke. als thei were out of that place, Iesus, with his holy grace, resussita∣cio corporis Marie he gon to take vp anone his moder body of the stone. he hym self dud þerynne, that neuer had y-done synne. he wolde not in no manere that the body lafte there. in that body he dud a leme, brighter then the sonne beme, and made here quene of heuene blisse; in that place she was and ys. Seynt Thomas of ynde thederward com, also swithe as he myght gone, Thomas yndie and wold haue bene at here berying, yf he myght haue come be tyme. as he loked hym be syde, [leaf 84, back] he saw then a bright thyng glide in that stede as he come, ther oure lady to heuene was nome. he kneled adoune and seid, "lady, now on me thu haue mercy. lady, quene of heuene bright, for thi mochel holy myght, send me a token this ilke day, soche thyng þat y bryng may to my felawes, ther y ham fynde, that y was toward þi berynge: thei wol not leue þat y was there; now graunte me, lady, my prayere." a-boute here gurdel a mydełł sought, [Sidenote: nota de zona sancte Marie] that she hire self had y-wroght, of siluer and gold wonde in palle; a-doune to hym she lete it falle. he toke that gurdełł in his hond, and thanked here of here sond. fourth he went of that stede; toward the toune he hym yede. his felaus then he dud seche yf he myght hem ouer mete. atte temple of dominus he them founde alle in ane hous. ther ful feire he them grette; and ayenward thei hym chidde. "where has thu so long y-bene? we haue beried our heuene quene. "thu lakkest euer at euery nede; thu helpest neuer at gode dede." "sore me thenketh þat y nas here; but y ne myght come no nere. I-blessid be the quene of blys, in the place there she ys, for wełł y wote in my thought, there ye here layde is she nought." Thei seid to hym swithe anone, bothe Petre and seynt Iohan, "thow woldest not be-leue, Thomas, that oure lord y-nayled was. euer thu leuys amysse in mynde, and tales y-now thu dos fynde. thu bi-leuest in god right noght; soche tales ne kepe we noght." "be stille," he seid, "brother Iohan, [Sidenote: nota de verbis sancti Thome apostoli.] why chide ye me so, one and one? me thenketh ye can litel good, for y here saw bothe flesħ and blood, how oure lady to heuene wend; here is the token that she me send." Then seid seynt Petre, "that is soth; this ilke webbe here self woof. with here y dud it on the bere; wonder me the thenketh þat it is here. go we swithe in-to the vale, to knowe the sothe of this tale that he hath vs now y-sayde, for it was in the tombe y-laide." owte of þat that place then they yede, [Sidenote: nota de sepulcro Marie vacuo.] and the tumba they vndede. nothyng ther-on there thei founde but a floure atte grounde. That flour manna was cleped Manna that in the tumba was steked. they went ałł a-boute þe tumbe and kneled on the bare grounde, and seid, "Ihesu, goddis sone, ałł that thu sendes, it is wel-come. Mightefułł is the heuene kyng; and that we know bi thi sayng. no man may know his priuyte, nother his swete dignite." Amonge þe apostolis alle a light, the kyng that is in heuene bright, and blessid ham alle in fere emonge the angelis þat there were, and seid, "my pees be with yow nowthe, blessid ye be of goddis mowthe." A mysty cloude cam after thane, [Sidenote: nota miraculum apostolorum.] and ouersprad them euerychone, and bare them alle þer they were, in-to the stede that they were ere. moche wonder then hem thought how thei were theder y-brought, for thei ne wiste whi ne whane; and thei seid euerychone that rightfull is heuene kyng, Ihesus lord ouer ałł thyng. ¶ This tale y haue tolde with mouthe, with wordes that bene ful couthe. it is cleped the Assumpcioun; Iesus gef vs his benesoun. Iesu crist, for his myght, [leaf 86] we pray to hym with herte light, and with his holy grace, gef vs bothe myght and space, soche workes for to worche, thurgh the lore of holy churche, that we may to heue[ne] wende, that is with oute begynnyng and ende. Amen! Explicit Sextus liber sancte Marie. HIC INCIPIT ASSUMPCIO BEATE MARIE

Brit. Mus. Add. MS. 10,036, lf. 62.

IN honorance of ihesu cryst Sitteþ stille and haueþ lyst; And ȝif ȝe wille to me here, Off oure ladi ȝe mai lere, Floure of heuene, ladi and quene, As sche auȝt wel to bene, To wham aungeles doun here myȝt To serue hure boþe day and nyȝt. Par auenture ȝe haue noȝt iherde How oure ladi went out of þis werde: Sitteþ stille and herkeneþ to me; Now ihesu cryst oure helpe be! ¶ Whan ihesu crist was doun on þe rode And þolede deþ for oure goode, He callide to hym seynt Iohan, That was his fleschli kynnes man. His moder swete he dide also; He callid no men mo him to. And seide, "womman, lo here þi sone, And, man, take hure to moder in good wone. And þenkeþ on my sorwe nowe How I hange here abowe, How I hange apone a tre, Ful sore, I wote, hit reweþ þee. Myn feet, myn hondes, of blode ben rede; With owte gilt I þole dede. But þei haue wille to louen me For wham I hange on þis tree. The Iewis me deden mychel schame; Ther of hadde I neuer blame." [No gap in MS.] MArie his moder sore dide wepe; The teeres fellen at hure fete. Nas no wondre þouȝ sche wepe sore; Of sorwe wist sche neuer more. When he þat of hure flesche nam, For his holi swete nam, Honge þer nailed to a tre, "Alas, my sone," þo saide sche, "How mai I lyue? how mai I bene? How mai I þis sorwe ysene? Neuer ere wist I of sorwe nouȝt; Leue sone, what hauest þou þouȝt? How schal I leue with oute þee? Leue sone, what saist þou to me?" Ihesu spak þo wordes goode, As he henge on þe rode, And seide to his moder dere, "I schal þee take a trewe fere, That trewly schal kepen þee, While in erþe þou schalt be." Than seide Ihesu to seynt Iohan, "For my loue kepe wel þis womman. Kepe hure wel with al þi myȝt, That no man do hure vnryȝt." ¶ Þan nam þe apostel, seynt Iohan, On his kepynge þis womman. He kept hure wel with al his myȝt, That no man do hure none vnryȝt. [MS. viryȝt] To þe temple he hure nam, And also sone as he þer cam, God to serue he hure dede, Amonge þe nunnes in þat stede. Ther sche bileft al hure lyfe, Ne loued sche noþer fiȝt ne stryf. ¶ The ladies þat þer Inne weren, Ful wel þei ne myȝt hure forberen, For euer þe while sche was þore, Sche wolde serue las and more. Seke and hole sche dide gode And seruede hem to hande and fote. Naked and hungry sche cloþed and fedde; Colde and seke sche brouȝt to bedde. Ne was þer noþer seke ne fere, That þei nadde to hure mystere. Thei louede hure wel with al here myȝt; Sche it serued and þat was ryȝt. Sche woke more þan sche slepe; Hure sone to serue was al hure kepe, To hym sche callid with rewful steuene, And he hure sent an angel fro heuene, To glade hure, hym self he cam, That of hure bodi flesche nam. Seynt Iohan hure keper was hure dere, And to hure was a trewe fere. Ne wolde he neuer fro hure gone; Al þat sche wolde he wolde done. While sche was in þat stede, Al þat sche wolde he hure dede. When sche hadde þer longe ben, That faire ladi, heuene quen, Than wolde hure sone sche com him to. When he wolde, hit was do. He sent to hure an angel of heuene, That gret hure with myry steuene, Ther sche was and bad hure bede, Lyȝth an angel in þat stede, And seide, "ladi, ful of grace, "Blessed be þou in eche place. Be nouȝt adrad þouȝ I be here; I am þi sones messagere. Fro hym I am to þe come; He gret þee wel, þi dere sone. Floure of erþe, heuene quene, Blessed mote þou euer bene. Wel be þat tyme þat þou was born, For al þis worlde hit was forlorn, Ȝif þou ne were and þe fruyt of þee; Marie, ladi, wel þee be. Ladi, best of al þinge, Bliþe tiþynges I þee brynge, Thou take þis palme þat I brynge þee; Thi dere sone haþ sent it þee. The þynkeþ longe him to see; Ther fore most I no lengere be, He schal sende after þee Of heuene ferde moche plente, And brynge þee in to his blisse, That euer was and now is. Þer he is kyng, þou schalt be quene; Al heuen ryche bliþe schal bene. [64, bk.] And alle him þenkeþ swiþe longe Til þou comest hem amonge." Than answerede oure ladi, And seide to þe angel, "belamy, Art þou my sones massagere, That bryngest me þis bodes here? Haueþ he me sette any day, Aȝens when I me greithe may, With my frendes and my kynnes men, And with hem þat I in erþe haue ben, And hem þat I haue fedde and clad, And don al þat my sone hem bad?" Tho seide þe angel, "I sei þee; Thou schalt be here but daies þre. The þridde dai we schal come, Alle ix. ordres fram heuen a boue, "And fecche þee with myry songe; For after þee vs þinketh longe." To þat aungel seide oure ladi, "What is þi name, þat standeþ me bi?" "My name seie I þee nouȝt; But take þis palme þat I haue brouȝt. Kepe it wel, I bidde þee, Ne lete it neuer be fro þee. Ne mai I no lengere abide here, For I am sent a massagere. I schal to þe apostles sone anone, And seie to hem sundry, on and one, That þei ben here þe þridde dai; No lengere abide I ne mai." When he had iseide, to heuene he steie; And marie þer bi-left he. [No gap in MS.] Vn-til hure chambre sone sche nam; And also sone as sche þider cam, Sche dide of hure cloþes alle, And wasche hure with water of wille. So sone as sche hadde doun, Newe cloþes sche dide hure apoun. When sche was faire schred and clad, To ihesu cryst aboue sche bad, And seide, "sone, I þanke þee, That þou hast yþouȝt on me, My sone, þat is heuene kynge, I praie þee of þi blessing. Sone, for þyn hye name, Schelde my bodi fro payne and schame, That þe deuel haue no Myȝt; To reyue þee hit were no ryȝt. Kepe me, sone; now is nede That I ne haue of þe deuel no drede. For with þe wiles þat he can, He bigileþ many a man. "Leue sone, ȝeue hym nouȝt Man kynde þat þou hast bouȝt. Mi sone, þat art ful of pite, For man kynne I praie þee, That þou, for þi holi grace, Ȝeue hem boþe myȝt and space, Hem to amende or þei ben dede, That þei haue of þe deuel no drede. Thynke, leue sone, þou hast hem wrouȝt, And dere þat þou hast hem bouȝt." When sche hadde praied so, Hure frendes sche callid hure to, [No gap in MS.] Hure sibbe and hure kynnes men. With reuful steuene sche spak to hem, An seide, "leue frendes, my sone Wol no lenger þat I here wone. He wol þat I with him be; Where fore I praie ȝow par charite, Ȝif I any þinge haue mys wrouȝt, Seieþ me now; for-hele ȝe nouȝt. I it wole amende with my myȝt, That my soule haue no vnplyȝt, The good þat ȝe haue doun me, My sone þat was doun on þe tree, Man to bigge fro þe quede, He ȝelde it ȝow at ȝoure nede, And brynge ȝow in to his blis, Ther I schal be and my sone is." Alle þat weren hure bi, Off suche tiþinges weren sori, And saide, "lady, how mai þis be? How schulle we lyuen with oute þee? Ladi, þou hast vs serued so; Alas, how schulle we parte a two? Swete ladi, what is þi þouȝt? Rewe on vs; departe vs nouȝt. "In moche sorwe and in myche wo Schulle we lyue, be þou a go." Þan answerede oure ladi To þat folke þat stode hure bi, "Lateþ be ȝour greding hit helpeþ noȝt; And haueþ blis in ȝoure þouȝt. Whiles I am here, wakeþ with me; Hit doþ me good þat I ȝow se. Haueþ no drede in wel; Of peyne schal I þole no del. [No gap in MS.] Mi bodi mai no peyne þolen, For he was þer of y-boren. He þoled deþ him self for me; He honged nailed on þe tree. Mi sone þat is kyng of heuene, Schal me sende worde wel euene; Iohan and þe apostles, where so þei bene, Schulle alle come for to sene." As sche so spak to þe mon, Off al þat wist nouȝt seynt Ion. He come to speke with oure ladi; Ferli him þouȝt þat sche was sory, And seide, "ladi, what is þee? What is þis folk þat I here se? Seie me, ladi, what is þee?" he sede; "For me were leuer þat I were dede, Than I þee se suche semblaunt make, "For schal I neuer suche a ladi take. Hastou ouȝt herde þat I ne can, Off me or of any oþer man? Schal I neuer haue blis Til I wite, ladi, what þee is." Oure ladi wept and Iohan also, For trewe loue was bitwene hem two. Iohan seide, "ladi, what is þee? For þi sones loue, seie þou me." Marie answerde with rewful steuene, And seide, "me cam bode fram heuene, Fro my sone a massagere; He wol no lengere þat I be here. Wite þou wel hit rewiþ me That I schal, Iohan, parte fram þee. For þi loue and þi seruyce That þou hast doun on eche wise, Thou hast me boþe fed and clad, And doun also my sone þee bad. My sone schal it wel ȝelde þee; I schal him telle when I him se." Than answerde seynt Iohan, That was a ful sori man, And seide, "ladi, how mai þis be That I schal þee no more se? Mi ioie, my blis, is doun eche del; Ne schal me neuer worþen wel, Sithen we ben parted atwo." Þo seide our ladi, "why saistou so? Wite þou wel, I go be-forn; Thi seruyse schal noȝt be forlorn; I schal to my sone seie of þee That þou with hym and me schal be. But herestou now, my frende Iohan, When þou sest þat I am gon, Kepe my bodi þat I ne be binomen, When þe fellon Iewes comen, Mi bodi forto doun no schame, For þei hate no þing more þan my name. Mi sone þei hongen on a tre; Wel I wote so wolde þei me. I wote wel þei louen me nouȝt; But þer of be þi most þouȝt. When I am parted, Iohan, fram þee, That þei do my bodi none euelte. My sone, þat woneþ in heuene liȝt, Lete hem neuer þer to haue myȝt." "Ladi, sithen hit is so, That we schal departe a two, Seie me how long hit is to þan." "For soþe," marie seide to Iohan, "Bi þis and þe þridde day, No lenger abide I ne may." When he it herde, he was sory; He wept, and seide, "ladi, mercy. How schal I lyue? how schal I fare? How schal I blis or ioie haue? Furst my lord was brouȝt to dede, Thorw þe felun iewes rede, And now my ladi wil me fro, Swete lord, now me is wo. Wolde my lord I wolde be dede, For I ne can no better rede." "Iohan," sche seide, "whi seistou so? Th[e] aungeles schal þee come to, To kepe þee where so þou be, Erliche and late to gladen þee." Whiles he spak so to seynt Ion, Come þe apostles euerychon, To gidre; but þei wist nouȝt How þei weren to gidre brouȝt; Off oþeres come ne wist none; But of hure come bliþe was Ion. He cust hem alle, so fayn he was, And seide, "deo gracias; Blessed, ihesu, be þi myȝt, For it is faire and hit is ryȝt That þi moder come to þee, That sche faire welcom be Of þine apostles þat most þee louen, I ne wote how þei ben hidre ycomen." Than seide Petyr to seynt Ion, "Whi art þou so sory A mon? "Whi wepistou, and what is þee? For felaschip telle þou me. I schal þee seie, seynt Ion, Whi I am so sory a mon, But seie me furst, for godes loue, Whi ȝe arn hider icome, And weryn so wide isprad: Seieþ what haþ ȝou hidre ilad." Tho seide Petyr a ferli þinge: "I was fer hens atte my prechinge. I was so henne in anoþer londe And helde my boke in my honde, And tauȝt men of my sermoun, I ne wote how I cam to þis toun." So seide alle þat weren þere, Suche wondre sawe I neuer ere. None of hem ne wist þorw wham, Ne what wai þei þidre cam, Than seide seynt Iohan, "for soþe, I wys, I schal ȝow telle what it is. Comeþ wiþ me in to þis hous; Oure ladi þer abideþ vs. Sche ordeyneþ hure to fare vs fro, For hure sone hit wolle so. Hure sone haþ sent his messagere; He wol no lengere þat sche be here. And hider he haþ ȝow alle ysent To kepe hure bodi when sche is went. Bi fore hure knele ȝe alle bi-dene And seieþ, 'ladi, heuene quene, Off alle wymmen, best þee be; Thi sone vs haueþ sent to þee, To kepe þee and do þi wille: Vs þenkeþ wel þat it is skille, That heuene and erþe bowe þee to, For þi sone hit wol so, Thi sone, þat is heuene kynge, And alle þing haþ in his kepinge.'" Than comen þe apostles alle, And bi hure bigan to falle. Vp ros oure swete ladi And kist þe apostles bi and bi. Off here come sche was glad; Alle þei dide þat sche bad. Sche asked hem how þei come þere, That sprad so sundry were. The seide in ful good þouȝt, "Thi sone vs haþ hidre ybrouȝt To kepe þee, and by þee by; Ther fore we comen to þe, lady." Ful bliþe sche was of here come; "Blessed," sche seide, "be my sone! [No gap in MS.] When it is my sones wille That I come him to, hit is skille. Mi bodi ȝe schal kepe so That þer-to come nouȝt my fo. Kepeþ faire my body, That none do me no vilany. The Iewis ben ful of felony; My sone þei slow þorw enuye. The haten no þing more þan my name, God late hem neuer do me schame. Ther fore I praie ȝow, þur charyte, And for þe loue þat ȝe haþ to me, When I am faren to heuen blis, Wakeþ alle þer my body is. Kepiþ it boþe nyȝt and dai, That no Iewe stele it awai. Thei wolde it brenne or do it schame; But ihesu, for þi holi name, Late hem neuer þer-to haue myȝt, For sikirli hit were vnryȝt." Thei seiden, alle soþe, I wys, "Hit schal be, ladi, as þi wille is." Whiles oure ladi spak so To þe apostles þat come hure to, Come an aungel and stode hure bi, And seide, "wel þee be, ladi, And so be alle þat ben þee bi; "Loke þou be ful redi. Þou schalt to heuene and be made quene; Ful bliþe mai þine hert bene. Alle schal þee serue, þe company of heuene." As soone oure ladi herd þat steuene That þe aungel seide hure to, Wel ful of Ioie was sche þo; Sche ȝede to hure bedde and lai, A bowte þe tyme of myddai; Iohan and þe apostles weren hure bi, To kepen hure as oure ladi. [lf. 70, bk.] Sche badde Iohan and þe apostles alle, To kepen hure what so bi falle. Sitteþ now stille, boþe more and lesse, And herkeneþ of þe moche blesse Off Ihesu, þer he come so lyȝt: He dide his moder ful moche riȝt, As a sone auȝt his moder to done, He callid þe aungeles euerychone, And alle þe mayne þat was in heuene, And seide to hem with mury steuene: "Commeþ with me to my lemman! Sche is my moder; hure sone I am; Off hure I toke flesche and blode. And sithen I hange on þe rode, I þat euer was and ay schal ben, In al þis blisse þat ȝe here sen, I hadde reuþe on al mankyne, That alle went to helle pyne. I made man to serue me, And þorw þe appel of a tre, That adam toke and ete it Inne, To helle he went, and al his kynne. "Hit rewid me, and for-þouȝt sore, And I it wolde þole no more. I lyȝt doun, and man bi-cam, And of þat maide flesche nam. "Bi fore alle oþer I hure ches, And I was born of hure flesches. Thritti wynter and somme del more, Men to wissen, I was þore. Men dide me moche euelte; Myn owyn þat ouȝt for to be, Thei token me and bette me sore, And atte þe last þei dide wel more, With oute gult þei me swongen, And to a piler þei me bounden. Nailes þei smyten in my fette; Off blode myne handes weren rede. Myn hert þei stongen with a spere; That sawe alle þat weren þere. Ther I hange nailed on þe tree, My modre was wel wo for me, And also was hure cosin Ion. I callid hure to me soone anon, And seide, 'Iohan, for my loue, Kepe wel þis wyf; I am hure sone.' Boþe þei wenten þo fro me; Al one I hanged on þe tree, Mi soule fram my bodi I nam, In to þe pyne of helle sone I came. Alle my frendes þat I þer fonde, I toke hem oute with my ryȝt honde, Adam and Eue and many mo, I dide hem oute of helle go. When I hadde harwed helle, And don as I ȝow telle, And fet adam fro þe quede, The þridde dai I ros fro dede. Fram erþe to heuene I cam; God and man, bothe I am, In heuene and in erþe is my myȝt; "Now I wol forþe in ryȝt, That my modre be me bi; This tyme I wol for þi, Comeþ with me with mury songe, And do we hure come vs amonge." Than cam ihesu with his mayne, Aungeles, archaungeles, moche plente, In to þe chambre þer sche was Inne, with ful many of hure kynne. That chambere was ful of moche blis, As euer is þer ihesu is. Tho seide alle þat were þere, Suche a blis sawe þei neuer ere. Amonge þat Ioie and þat glewe, Oure ladi, hure sone knewe. When sche him sawe, sche was glad; Listeneþ þe bede þat sche bad: "Sone, blessid mote þou be, That þou bicome man of me; Hit is wel sene, I am þee dere, Now þi self art comen here. Thine apostles þou sendist furst to me, And now þou art come with þi meyne, To fecchyn me in to þi myȝt: Was neuer modre sone so bryȝt. Mi leue sone, now art þou come With þi meyne, here a bone. Do, my sone, þat þi wille is; To þee me þinkeþ longe I wis." [No gap in MS.] "Modre," he seide, "come with me; Of alle wymen best þee be. [No gap in MS.] Thou schalt to heuen and be made quene; Wel bliþe may þine hert bene." "Sone," sche seide, "I be-seke þee O þing þat þou graunt me, That I noȝt þe deuel se, Ne none þat euer with him be. "I loue hem nouȝt; þei arn my fone; Ne wolde I neuer sene hem none." "Moder," he seide, "ne drede þee nouȝt; Ne come it neuer in my þouȝt; Ne wille I neuer more þole That any of hem come þee bi fore; Ne schal þou neuer se-ne here But me and aungeles, þine fere. Moder, a ȝift I schal þe ȝyue, Thou schalt with me in heuene lyue, And more schal I ȝeue þee; Al heuene companye schal serue þee. [No gap in MS.] "Modre, for þe loue of þee I schal haue mercy and pite Off al man kynne for þi praiere, That were forlorn ȝif þou ne were. Alle þat doun þee worschipe, And seruen þee wel, and treuliche Bi seke to þee, and mercy will crie, And seyn, 'help, seynt marie,' In what peyne so he be, Moder, for þe loue of þee, I schal hem reles sone anon; For þi loue I schal þus done. Ȝif any haue ben al his lyue In hede synne, maide or wyue, And he wille, on his last þrowe, Schryue him and ben y-knowe, And telle it, ȝif he haue þe prest, Or a noþer man þat is him nest, And ȝif he ne mai do no more, But þat him forþinkeþ sore, In what synne so he be, Moder, for þe loue of þee, I schal on him haue mercy, And sithen þei schulle wone þee bi. "Ȝif a man hadde al one wrouȝt Alle þe synnes þat myȝt be þouȝt, And he on his last dai, Ȝif he none ere ne mai, Repent him, and calle to þee, In what synne so he be, I schal here his praiere, For þi loue, modre dere, Al þat þou wolt bi seke fore, Be it lasse, be it more, Hit schal ben aftur þi wille, For I it wille, and þat is skille, Þat no þing with seie þee, Off þat þou wolt biseke me." Oure ladi knelid him bi forn, And seide, "þe tyme þat þou were born, Ouer alle oþer blessed þou be, For alle þat I wol, þou grauntest me." ¶ "So I auȝt, moder, and so I wille;" He left vp his hond and blessed hure stille; His blessing sche þouȝt good, And he hure soule vndrestode. He callid to him seynt myȝhel, "Thou kepe me þis soule wel, Thou and alle þine fere; Is no þinge me so dere." Alle þat mayne þat cam fro heuene, Thei syngen with a myry steuene; Men myȝt wite bi here songe That moche ioie was hem amonge. With alle þat mayne to heuen he hure nam; And as soone as he þer cam, He made hure quene of heuen liȝt; Blessid be hure sones myȝt! amen! NOw schal we here of þe bodi, Where it bi cam, and where it li. When þe soule was þere fro hure nomen, Than bad god Peter to him comen, And seide, "Peter, I comaunde þee, Mi moder bodi kepe þou me. Iohan and alle þine fere, Nis no þinge me so dere; When I furst in þis worlde cam, Off hure bodi flesche I nam; Off hure bodi, I was born. Petyr, go forþe þou be forn, Thou and alle þine feres with þee, To Iosephat, to þat vale, And leiþ þe bodi in a stone; Haueþ no drede of ȝoure fone; Goth with faire processioun To ierusalem þorwe þe toun. Doþ þe belles alle to ryngen, And loke þat ȝe mury syngen. Loke þat ȝe haue candele, Torches boþe faire and fele. Foure of þe apostles schal bere þe beere; Ther-on schal ligge me modre deere. Haueþ no drede of no Iew, For I my self schal be with ȝow." When ihesu hadde him so seide, And þe bodi was on bere leide, He ȝaf hem alle his blessinge And stye to heuen, þer he is kynge. [No gap in MS.] ¶ To hym þo seide seynt Ion, "Felawes, go we soone anon, And turne we þis processioun, And synge we faire þorw þis toun." [No gap in MS.]

[See the parallel lines to these, below, on page 130, col. 2.]

[See the parallel lines to these, below, on p. 130, col. 2, near the foot.]

Ther was a Iew hem amonge, Off þe apostles harde þe songe. To þe beere he cam lepand, And as he wolde lai on his hande; To þe bere he cleued fast, And to Petir he criede atte þe last, And seide, "Petir, þenkest þou nouȝt, When þi lord was to vs brouȝt, Thou him forsoke, and I þe knewe? Praie for me," seide þe Iewe, "Praie þi lord, ȝif I mai so be, That he haue mercy on me. Thenke," quod þe Iewe, "what I þee dede. When þou was with vs in þat stede, When þi lord was ytakyn, And þou haddest him forsakyn, Oure mayne þee knewe þat ilke nyȝt Bothe bi speche and by syȝt, And seiden alle, for I stode þee bi, That þou was of Ihesus companye. Thou seidest with wordes and with þouȝt, 'For soþe þat þou knewe him nouȝt.' Praie þi lord of moche myȝt, And his moder þat art so bryȝt, That he me help at þis stounde, For I was neuer so harde ybounde. As I þee helped atte þi nede, Ȝelde me, Petir, now my mede." Seynt Petir answerde þo To þe Iewe þat was so wo, "Ȝif þou woldest leue on him, That on þe rode dide þi kyn, That he is soþefast godes sone, God and man for him bi come, That marie bare in hure lyf, Clene maide and clene wyf, Clene widewe with oute wem, For þee I wol praie þen, Ihesu cryst vs liȝteþ aboue, That he, for his moder loue, So ȝeue þee myȝt for to go, And bringe þee oute of þi wo." The Iewe þat henge apoun þe bere, Answerde anone as ȝe mai here, "I leue wel, and better I schal done, On ihesu crist, godes sone, That Iewes diden on þe rode, And for vs he schedde his swete blode, That marie bare in hure lyf, Clene maiden and clene wyf; He brynge me, I praie it him, Oute of þe wo þat I am Inne." As soone as he hadde seide þis bede, He was al hole in þat stede: Off fote, of honde, he hadde myȝt; Alle his lymes bi come ful ryȝt. He stode vp swiþe anone Bi-fore þe Iewes euerechone, That suche a myracle haþ done, Ihesu crist, godes sons, Of a wilde hounde haþ made a lomb, To preche his worde in eche a lond. Seynt Petir, þat holi man, The Iew he crystened anone, He tauȝt him al his bi leue; He wist he was to godes biheue; He ordeyned him to prest anone, And bad him soone for to gone And prechen al of godes sone, In eche a lond where he come. That palm þat Petir helde in his honde, He toke it him þorw godes sonde, And bad him godes wordes telle Among þe Iewes þat were so felle. So he spak þe furst day, That he turned to godes lay Twenty þousand and sommedel mo, Thorw wordes þat he spak þo. Foure of þe apostles þat were þere, That swete bodi forþe þei bere, The Iewes þat were godes fone, Thei herde þe cri sone anone, And þei asked what was þat crie, And men seiden it was mari, That seynt Petir and his fere Bare þare apoun a beere. [leaf 76, back] "Alas," seide þei, "for schame, Ascape þei vs, we schulle haue blame. Arme we vs alle sone anone, And take we hem alle þer þei gone. That bodi þat þei bere, nyme we it, And cast we it in a foule pit, Or brenne we it, and do it somme where, Or cast we it in a foule sere." Thei comen lepand þiderwarde, And þat hem fel swiþe harde. Ihesu wolde nouȝt þat schame; He made hem boþe blynde and lame. Off hem alle, was þer none That myȝt a fote on erþe gone. Here mouþes were to here nek went; Thei þouȝt alle þat þei were schent. Boþe here feet and here handes Where bounde with stronge bandes: Ful sore bounden þei were, For þei ne myȝt go ne here. Than comen here frendes hem to, And seide, "alas, whi leie ȝe so, In ȝoure armour so fast ycliȝt, That beþ so faire and so bryȝt? Ȝoure speres, ȝour schildes, helpeþ ȝow nouȝt; Telleþ vs what ȝe haue þouȝt." Thei answerd nouȝt þat leyen þere, For þei ne myȝt hem noȝt here, But somme of hem þat myȝt speke Seide, "alas! who schal vs wreke?" And euer þei cryede many a stounde, "Alas, how harde we lie here ybounde!" Off fyue þousand was þer none That myȝt of þat stede gone. Than seide some þat stode hem bi, That hadde ysene þat ferli, That 'seynt Petir and his fere Bare oure ladi on a beere, "Thise men wolde hure haue nomen," And þus þei ben ouer comen. The ladi þei wolde haue doun schame; Ther fore þei hauen godes grame.' The folke hem bad mercy to crie To ihesu cryst of here folie, And leue þat he is godes sone, And siþen crysten men bi come. "We hope þat ihesu schal sone tyme Delyuere ȝow of ȝoure pyne." [lf. 77, bk.] Thei criede "mercy" with good wille, Somme lowde and somme stille, And ihesu, þorw his mochil myȝt, Here feet and handes gan to ryȝt. Thorw myracle þat þer was doun, Bi-come cristene many on, And leuede on cryst and criede mercy, That none oþer god was so myȝty. The apostles went forþe on here way, To Iosephat, to þat Valay. When þe apostles comen were, Wel softe þei setten doun þe beere. With gret deuocioun, euerychone, Thei leide þe bodi in a stone, And bileft alle in þat stede, As oure ladi hadde hem bede, And woke þer al þat nyȝt With many torches and candle lyȝt. On þe morwe when it was dai, Thei loked where þat bodi lai. Thei ouerturned þat ilke stone; Bodi þei founde þer none; But þei sawe in þat stede þana Liand as it were a mana. [lf. 78] That manna bitokned hure clene lyf, That sche was modre, maide, and wyf. Tho wist þe apostles, I wis, The bodi was in to paradis, Also godes wille was. Thei seide, "Deo gracias." [No gap in MS.] Seynt Thomas of ynde þiderward cam Also blyue as he myȝt gan, And wolde haue ben at hure fyne, Ȝif he myȝt haue come bi tyme. As he loked him bi side, He sawe a briȝtnesse bi him glide; Bi þat stede þer he come, Oure ladi to heuene was nome. He knelede doun and seide, "ladi, Off me, I praie ȝow, haue mercy. Ladi, quene of heuene lyȝt, For þine swete mychel myȝt, Sende me token þis ilke day, What þing þat I say may To myn felawis, þer I hem fynde, That I was toward þi buriynge. Thei wil nouȝt leue þat I were; Now graunt me, ladi, my praiere." A-bowte hure myddel a seynt sche souȝt, That sche hure self hadde wrouȝt, Off silk and gold wounden in pal; Doun to thomas sche lete it fal. He toke þer þe gurdel in his honde, And þanked hure of hure sonde. Forþe he went of þat stede; Toward þe toune he him dede, His felawis for to seke on his fete, Ȝif he hem ouȝt myȝt mete. Atte þe temple dominus He fonde hem alle in an hous. When he hem sawe, he gret hem, And þei answerde alle hym, And seiden, "thomas of ynde, Euer art þou bi-hynde. "Whare hast þou so longe bene? We haue buried heuene quene. Thou helpest noȝt at no good dede; Thou failest euer at most nede." "Sore me forþinkeþ þat I ne was here, But I ne myȝt come no nere. Blessed be sche, quene of blis, In þat stede þer now sche is! For wel I wote bi my þouȝt, Ther ȝe hure left, is sche nouȝt." Than seide to him sone anone, Bothe Petir and seynt Ione, "Thou ne woldest, leue thomas, That oure lord fram deth ras. Come, þou art mys bileuyd, And tales ynow þou canst fynde, Thou leuest nouȝt on godes craft; Swylk felawis wille we nauȝt." "Be stille," he saide, "broþer Iohan. Whi chyde ȝe me euerychone? I am ful wery man for-gone; Me ne list answeri neuer one. But I thanke oure lord god, I sawe hure with flesche and blood, Ther oure ladi to heuene went: Here is þe token þat sche me sent." Quath seynt Petir, "þat is sothe. This seynt sche hure self wof. We dide it on hure in þe beere; Wonder me þinkeþ þat it is here. Go we swiþe in to þe vale, To wite þe sothe of þis tale That he haþ vs here yseide, For it was in þe tumbe ylaide." Oute of þe place swiþe þei ȝede, And þe tumbe þei vndede; No þing þer Inne þei ne founde, But a manere floure at þe grounde. That floure was 'manna' yelepid; Hit was in þe tumbe ystekyd. Thei ȝeden alle abowte þe tumbe And knelede on þe bare grounde, And seiden, "ihesu, godes sone, Al þi sonde be welcome. Myȝtful art þou, heuene kynge; That mai we wite bi þis tokenynge; For no man mai wite ne se What is þi derne priuete." Cryst of heuene, þat is so bryȝt, Amonge þe apostles sone he lyȝt, And gret hem alle yfere, With aungeles fele þat with him were, And seide, "now pees be with vs! Blessed be ȝe," seide Ihesus. A lyȝt cloude come after þan, And ouer sprad hem euery man, And bar hem alle þat ben þere, In to here stedes þer þei preched ere; And fonden alle þat folke ȝete, Sittand stille atte here fete. And þei bigonne for to preche, And þe folke for to teche. Moche wondre hem þo þouȝt How þei weren þidre brouȝt. Miȝtful art þou, heuene kynge, Ihesu Crist, in alle þinge! The apostles kneled in þat stede; To ihesu þei bede a bede. Ihesu herde here praiere, For þei were him leue and dere. WE biseche þee for alle þat hereþ þis vie Off oure ladi seynt marie, That Ihesu schelde hem fram grame, Fro dedly synne and fro schame. Ne mys auenture schal bi falle þat man That þis a vie here can. Ne no womman þat ilke dai That of oure ladi hereþ þis lai, Dien ne schal of hure childe, For oure ladi hure schal be mylde. [leaf 80, bk.] Ne none mys auenture schal be-falle In felde, in strete, ne in halle, In stede þer þis vie is rad, For oure ladi hure sone it bad. And þe archibisshop seynt Edmound Haþ graunted xl. daies to pardoun To alle þat þis vie wol here Or with good wille wol lere. Ihesu, for þi modre loue, That woneþ in heuene vs aboue, Graunt vs, ȝif þi wille is, The mochil Ioye of paradis! A praier þer-to seie alle we, A Pater noster pur charite, And an Aue marie þer-to, That Ihesus vs graunt so. Amen! ¶ Celi regina sit scriptori medicina.