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