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[Prologue]
In Tyberyus tyme, the trewe emperour,
Sire Sesar hymsulf, seysed in Rome,
Whyle Pylat was provost undere that prince riche
And Jewen justice also in Judeus londis.1
Herodes, undere his emperie, as heritage wolde,
Kyng of Galilé was y-called whan that Crist deyed;
They Sesar sakles were, that oft synne hatide,
Throw Pylat pyned He was and put on the Rode.2
A pyler pyght was doun upon the playn erthe,3
His body bonden therto, and beten with scourgis.
Whyppes of quyrboyle by-wente His white sides
Til He al on rede blode ran, as rayn in the strete.4
Suth stoked Hym on a stole with styf mannes hondis,
Blyndfelled Hym as a be and boffetis Hym raghte:5
"Gif thou be prophete of pris, prophecie!" they sayde,
"Whiche berne here aboute bolled Thee laste?"
A thrange thornen croune was thraste on His hed,
Umbecasten Hym with a cry and on a Croys slowen.6
For al the harme that He hadde, hasted He noght
On hem the vyleny to venge that His veynys brosten,7
Bot ay taried on the tyme gif they tourne wolde,
Gaf hem space that Hym spilide, they hit spedde lyte.8
Fourty wynter, as Y fynde, and no fewere yyrys,
Or princes presed in hem that Hym to pyne wroght,9
Til hit tydde on a tyme that Tytus of Rome
That alle Gascoyne gate and Gyan the noble
[. . . .]
[. . . .]
Whyle noye noyet hym in Neroes tyme,
He hadde a malady unmeke inmyddis the face:10
The lyppe lyth on a lumpe, lyvered on the cheke;
So a canker unclene hit cloched togedres.11
Also his fadere of flesche is ferly bytide:
A bikere of waspen bees bredde in his nose,
Hyved upon his hed; he hadde hem of youthe
And Waspasian was caled the waspene bees after.
Was never syknes sorere than this sire tholed,
For in a liter he lay, laser at Rome;
Out of Galace was gon to glade hym a stounde,
For in that cuthe he was kyng they he car tholede.12
Nas ther no leche upon lyve this lordes couth helpe,
Ne no grace growyng to gayne here grym sores.13
[. . . .]
[. . . .]
Now was ther on Nathan, Neymes sone, of Grece,
That sought oft over the se fram cyté to other,
Knewe contreys fele, kyngdomes manye,
And was a marener myche and a marchaunt bothe.14
Sensteus out of Surye sent hym to Rome
To the athel Emperour - an eraunde fram the Jewes -
Caled Nero by name that hym to noye wroght,
Of his tribute to telle, that they withtake wolde.
Nathan toward Nero nome on his way
Over the Grekys grounde myd the grym ythes,
An heye setteth the sayl over the salt water,
And with a dromound on the deep dryveth on swythe.15
The wolcon wanned anon and the water skeweth,
Cloudes clateren on loude as they cleve wolde.16
The racke myd a rede wynde roos on the myddel
And sone sette on the se out of the south syde.
Hit blewe on the brode se, bolned up harde;
Nathannys nave anon on the north dryveth,
So the wedour and the wynd on the water metyn
That alle hurtled on an hepe that the helm gemyd.17
Nathan flatte for ferde and ful under hacchys,
Lete the wedour and the wynde worche as hem lyked;
The schip scher upon schore, schot froward Rome
Toward uncouth costes, kayrande on the ythes,18
Rapis unradly umbe ragged tourres.
The brode sail at o brayd to-bresteth a-twynne:19
That on ende of the sschip was ay toward heven,
That other doun in the deep, as alle drenche wolde.
Over wilde wawes he wende, as alle walte scholde,20
Stroke stremes throw yn stormes and wyndes;
With mychel langour atte laste, as our Lord wolde,
Alle was born at a byr to Burdewes havene.21
By that were bernes atte banke; barouns and knyghtes
And citezeins of the syght selcouth hem thoght
That ever barge other bot or berne upon lyve
Unpersched passed hadde: the peryles were so many.
They token hym to Titus, for he the tonge couthe;
And he fraynes how fer the flode hadde hym y-ferked.
"Sire, out of Surré," he seide, "Y am come,
To Nero, sondisman sent, the seignour of Rome,
"Fram Sensteus, his serjant, with certayn leteres,
That is justise and juge of the Jewen lawe.
Me were lever at that londe - lord, lene that Y were -
Than alle the gold other good that ever God made."22
The kyng into conseyl calleth hym sone
And saide: "Canste thou any cure or craft upon erthe
To softe the grete sore that sitteth on my cheke?
And Y schal thee redly rewarde and to Rome sende."23
Nathan nyckes hym with nay, sayde he non couthe:
"Bot were thou, kyng, in that kuththé ther that Crist deyed,24
Ther is a worldlich wif, a womman ful clene,
That hath softyng and salve for eche sore out."
"Telle me tyt," quod Titus, "and thee schal tyde better,
What medecyn is most that that may useth,
Whether gommes other graces, or any goode drenches,25
Other chauntementes or charmes? Y charge thee to say."
"Nay, non of tho," quod Nathan, "bot now wole Y telle:
Ther was a lede in our londe, while He lif hadde,
Preved for a prophete throw preysed dedes
And born in Bethleem one by, of a burde schene,
"And ho a mayde unmarred that never man touched,
As clene as clef ther cristalle of sprynges.26
Without hosebondes helpe save the Holy Goste,
A kyng and a knave child ho conceyved at ere;
"A taknyng of the Trinyté touched hire hadde,
Thre persones in o place preved togedres:
Eche grayn is o God and o God bot alle,
And alle thre ben bot one as eldres us tellen.
"The first is the Fadere that fourmed was never,
The secunde is the Sone of His sede growyn,
The thridde in Heven myd Hem is the Holy Goste,
Nether merked ne made bot mene fram Hem passyth.
"Alle ben they endeles, and even of o myght
And weren inwardly endeles or the erthe bygan.
As sone was the Sone as the self Fadere,
The heye Holy Goste with Hem hadde They ever.
"The secunde persone, the Sone, sent was to erthe
To take careynes kynde of a clene mayde;
And so unknowen He came caytifes to helpe,
And wroght wondres ynowe ay tille He wo driede.27
"Wyne He wroght of water at o word ene,
Ten lasares at a logge He leched at enys,
Pyned myd the palsy He putte hem to hele,28
And ded men fro the deth ever ilke day rered.
"Croked and cancred He kevered hem alle,
Both the dombe and the deve, myd His dere wordes,
Dide myracles many mo than Y in mynde have;
Nis no clerk with countours couthe aluendel rekene.29
"Fyf thousand of folke, is ferly to here,
With two fisches He fedde and fif berly loves,
That eche freke hadde his fulle, and yit ferre leved
Of battes and of broken mete bascketes twelve.
"Ther suwed Hym of a sorte seventy and twey
To do what He dempte, disciples were hoten.
Hem to citees He sende His sawes to preche,
Ay by two and by two til hy were a-twynne.
"Hym suwed of another sorte semeliche twelve,
Pore men and noght prute, aposteles were hoten,
That of kaytefes He ches His Churche to encresche,
The outwale of this worlde, and this were her names:
"Peter, James, and Jon, and Jacob the ferthe,
And the fifthe of His felawys Phelip was hoten;
The sixte Symond was caled, and the seveth eke
Bertholomewe, that his bone never breke nolde;
"The eyght man was Mathu, that is myche y-loved;
Taddé and Tomas - here ben ten even -
And Andreu the elleveth, that auntred hym myche
Byfor princes to preche, was Petrus brother.
"The laste man was unlele and luther of his dedis:
Judas, that Jhesu Crist to the Jewes solde.
Suth hymsulf he slowe for sorow of that dede;
His body on a balwe-tree to-breste on the myddel.
"Whan Crist hadde heried Helle and was to Heven passed,
For that mansed man Mathie they chossyn.
Yit unbaptized were bothe Barnabé and Poule,
And noght knewen of Crist, bot comen sone after.30
"The princes and the prelates, agen the Paske tyme,
Alle thei hadde Hym in hate for His holy werkes.
Hit was a doylful dede whan they His deth caste;
Throw Pilat pyned He was, the provost of Rome.
"And that worliche wif that arst was y-nempned
Hath His visage in hire veil - Veronyk ho hatte -
Peynted prively and playn that no poynt wanteth;
For love He left hit hire til hire lyves ende.
"Ther is no gome on this grounde that is grym wounded,
Meselry ne meschef ne man upon erthe,
That kneleth doun to that cloth and on Crist leveth,
Bot alle hapneth to helle in an hand-whyle."31
"A, Rome renayed!" quod the kyng. "The riche emperour,
"Cesar, synful wrecche, that sent hym fram Rome,
Why nadde thy lycam be leyd low under erthe32
Whan Pilat provost was made suche a prince to jugge?"
And or this wordes were wonne to the ende,33
The cankere that the kyng hadde clenly was heled,
Without faute the face of flesche and of hyde,
As newe as the nebbe that never was wemmyd.
"A, corteys Crist!" seide the kyng than.
"Was never worke that Y wroght worthy Thee to telle,
Ne dede that Y have don, bot Thy deth mened;
Ne never sey Thee in sight, Goddis Sone dere.
"Bot now bayne me my bone, blessed Lord,
To stire Nero with noye and newen his sorowe,
And Y schal buske me boun hem bale forto wyrche:34
To do the develes of dawe and Thy deth venge!
[Passus 1]
"Telle me tit," quod Titus, "what tokne He lafte
To hem that knew Hym for Crist and His crafte leved?"
"Nempne the Trinyté by name," quod Nathan, "at thries,
And thermyd baptemed be in blessed water!"
Forth they fetten a font and foulled hym ther,
Made hym Cristen kyng that for Crist werred.
Corrours into eche coste than the cours nomen35
And alle his baronage broght to Burdewes haven.
Suth with the sondes-man he sought unto Rome,
The ferly and the faire cure his fadere to schewe;
And he, gronnand glad, grete God thanked
And, loude criande on Crist, carped and saide:
"Worthy, wemlese God, in whom Y byleve,
As Thou in Bethleem was born of a bryght mayde,
Sende me hele of my hurt, and heyly Y afowe
To be ded for Thy deth, bot hit be dere yolden."
That tyme Peter was pope and preched in Rome
The lawe and the lore that our byleve asketh.
Folowed fele of the folke and to the fayth tourned,
And Crist wroght for that wye wondres ynow.
Therof Waspasian was ware, that the waspys hadde,
Sone sendeth hym to and he the sothe tolde36
Of Crist and the kerchef that kevered the sike,
As Nathan, Neymes sone, seide that to Nero come.37
Than to consayl was called the knyghtes of Rome
And assenteden sone to sende messageres:
Twenti knyghtes were cud the kerchef to fecche
And asked trewes of the empererour that erand to done.
[. . . .]
Ac, without tribute or trewes, by tenfulle wayes38
The knyghtes with the kerchef comen ful blyve;
The pope gaf pardoun to hem and passed theragens39
With processioun and pres of princes and dukes.
And whan the womman was ware that the wede owede
Of Seint Peter the pope, ho platte to the grounde,
Umbefelde his fete and to the freke saide:
"Of this kerchef and my cors the kepyng Y thee take."40
Than bygan the burne biterly to wepe
For the doylful deth of his dere mayster,
And longe stode in the stede or he stynte myght,
Whan he unclosed the clothe that Cristes body touched.
The wede fram the womman he warp atte laste,
Receyved hit myd reverence and rennande teris.
To the palace myd pres they passed on swythe
And ay held hit on hey that alle byhold myght.
Than twelf barouns bolde the emperour bade wende,
And the pope departe fram the pople faste;
Veronyk and the vail Waspasian they broght,
And Seint Peter the pope presented bothe.
Bot a ferly byfelle forthmyd hem alle;
In her temple bytidde tenful thynges:
The mahound and the mametes to-mortled to peces
And al to-crased as the cloth throgh the kirke passed.41
Into the palice with the prente than the pope yede;
Knyghtes kepten the clothe and on knees fallen.
A flavour flambeth therfro; they felleden hit alle:
Was never odour ne eyr upon erthe swetter.42
The kerchef clansed hitself and so clere wexed
Myght no lede on hit loke for light that hit schewed.
As hit aproched to the prince, he put up his hed;
For comfort of the cloth he cried wel loude:
"Lo, lordlynges, here: the lyknesse of Crist,
Of whom my botnyng Y bidde for His bitter woundis."
Than was wepyng and wo and wryngyng of hondis
With loude dyn and dit for doil of Hym one.
The pope availed the vaile, and his visage touched,43
The body suth al aboute, blessed hit thrye.
The waspys wenten away and alle the wo after:
That er was laser-liche, lyghtter was nevere.44
Than was pypyng and play, departying of stryf;
They yelden grace to God, this two grete lordes.
The kerchef carieth fram alle and in the eyr hangyth,
That the symple pople myght hit se into soper-tyme.45
The Vernycle after Veronyk Waspasian hit called,
Garde hit gayly agysen in gold and in selvere.
Yit is the visage in the vail, as Veronyk hym broght;
The Romaynes hit holdeth at Rome, and for a relyk hit holden.
This whyle Nero hadde noye and non nyghtes reste,
For his tribute was withholde, as Nathan told hadde.
He commaundith knyghtes to come consail to holde,
Erles and alle men the emperour aboute.
Assembled the senatours sone, upon haste,
To jugge who jewes myght best upon the Jewys take;
And alle demeden by dome tho dukes to wende
That were cured throw Crist, that they on Croys slowen.46
That on Waspasian was of the wyes twey
That the travail undertoke, and Titus another,
A bold burne on a blonke and of his body comyn:
No ferther sib to hymself bot his sone dere:47
Crouned kynges bothe and mychel Crist loved,
That hadde hem geven of His grace and here grem stroyed.48
Moste thei hadde hit in hert here hestes to kepe
And here forwardis to fulfille that thei byfor made.
Than was rotlyng in Rome, robbyng of brynnyis,
Schewyng of scharpe, scheldes y-dressed.
Laughte leve at that lord, leften his sygne,
A grete dragoun of gold, and alle the gyng folwed.49
By that schippis were schred, yschot on the depe,
Takled and atired on talterande ythes:50
Fresch water and wyn wounden yn faste,
And stof of alle maner store that hem strengthe scholde.51
Ther were floynes aflot, farcostes many,
Cogges and crayers, y-casteled alle;52
Galees of grete streyngthe with golden fanes,
Brayd on the brod se aboute foure myle.
They tyghten up tal-sail whan the tide asked,
Hadde byr at the bake and the bonke lefte,
Soughte over the se with soudeours manye,
And joyned up at port Jaf in Judeis londys.
Suree, Cesaris londe, thou may seken ever;
Ful mychel wo moun be wroghte in thy wlonk tounnes.53
Cytees under Syone, now is your sorow uppe:
The deth of the dereworth Crist dere schal be yolden.
Now is, Bethleem, thy bost y-broght to an ende;
Jerusalem and Jerico, for-juggyd wrecchys,
Schal never kyng of your kynde with croune be ynoyntid,
Ne Jewe, for Jhesu sake, jouke in you more.
[Passus 2]
They setten upon eche side Surrie withyn,
Brente ay at the bak and ful bare laften;
Was noght bot roryng and rich in alle the riche tounnes
And red laschyng lye alle the londe overe;
Token toun and tour, teldes ful fele,
Brosten gates of brass and many borwe wonnen,
Holy the hethen here hewyn to grounde,
Both in bent and in borwe, that abide wolde.
The Jewes to Jerusalem, ther Josophus dwelde,
Flowen as the foule doth that faucoun wolde strike.
A cité undere Syon sett was ful noble
With many toret and toure that toun to defende.
Princes and prelates and poreil of the londe,
Clerkes and comens of contrees aboute
Were schacked to that cité sacrifice to make
At Paske-tyme, as preched hem prestes of the lawe.54
Many swykel at the sweng to the swerd yede;
or penyes passed non, thogh he pay wolde,
Bot diden alle to the dethe and drowen hem after
With engynes to Jerusalem there Jewes were thykke.
They sette sadly a sege the cité alle aboute,
Pighten pavelouns doun of pallen webbes,
With ropis of riche silk raysen up swythe
Grete tentis as a toun of torkeys clothys.
Choppyn over the cheventayns, with charboklis foure,55
A gay egle of gold on a gilde appul
With grete dragouns grym alle in gold wroghte,
And lyk to lyouns also lyande ther undere.
Paled and paynted the paveloun was umbe,
Stoked ful of storijs, stayned myd armys56
Of quaynte coloures to know, kerneld alofte,
An hundred stondyng on stage in that stede one.57
Toured with torettes was the tente thanne,
Suth britaged aboute, bright to byholde.
Er alle the sege was sette yit of the cité comyn
Messengeres, were made fram maistres of the lawe.
To the chef cheventayn they chosen here wey,
Deden mekly by mouthe here message attonys,
Sayen: "The cité hath us sent to serchen your wille,
To here the cause of your comyng, and what ye coveyte wolde."
Waspasian no word to the wyes schewed
Bot sendeth sondismen agen, twelve sikere knyghtes,58
Gaf hem charge to go and the gomes telle
That alle the cause of her come was Crist forto venge:
"Sayth, Y bidde hem be boun, bischopes and other,
Tomorow or mydday, moder-naked alle,
Up here gates to yelde, with yerdes an hande,59
Eche whight in a white scherte and no wede ellys,
"Jewyse for Jhesu Crist by juggement to take,
And brynge Cayphas, that Crist throgh conseil bytrayede.
Or Y to the walles schal wende and walten alle overe;
Schal no ston upon ston stonde by Y passe."
This sondismen sadly to the cité yede
Ther the lordes of the londe lent weren alle,
Tit tolden here tale and wondere towe made
Of Crist and of Cayphas and how they come scholde.
And when the knyghtes of Crist carpyn bygonn,
The Jewes token alle twelf without tale more,
Here hondis bounden at here bak with borden stavys
And of flocken here fax, and here faire berdis,
Made hem naked as a nedel to the nether hove,
Here visage blecken with bleche, and al the body after,
Suth knyt with a corde to eche knyghtes swere
A chese, and charged hem here chyventayn to bere:
"Sayth, unbuxum we beth his biddyng to yete,
Ne noght dreden his dom: his deth have we atled.
He schal us fynde in the felde, ne no ferre seke,
Tomorowe pryme or hit passe, and so your prince tellith."
The burnes busken out of burwe, bounden alle twelf,
Agen message to make fram the maister Jewes.
Was never Waspasian so wrothe as whan the wyes come
That were scorned and schende upon schame wyse.60
This knyghtes byfor the kyng upon knees fallen
And tolden the tale as hit tid hadde:
"Of thy manace ne thy myght they maken bot lyte:
Thus ben we tourned of our tyre in tokne of the sothe61
"And bounden for our bolde speche; the batail they willeth
Tomorowe prime or hit passe. They put hit no ferre.
Hit schal be satled on thyself the same that thou atlest;
Thus han they certifiet thee and sende thee this cheses."
Wode wedande wroth Waspasian was thanne,
Layde wecche to the walle and warned in haste
That alle maner of men in the morowe scholde
Be sone after the sonne assembled in the felde.
He streyght up a standard in a stoure wyse,
Bild as a belfray bretful of wepne;
Whan oght fauted in the folke that to the feld longed,
Atte the belfray to be botnyng to fynde.62
A dragoun was dressed, drawyn alofte,
Wyde-gapande, of gold, gomes to swelwe,
With arwes armed in the mouthe, and also he hadde
A fauchyn under his feet with foure kene bladdys.
Therof the poyntes were pight in partyis foure
Of this wlonfulle worlde ther thei werre fondyn;
In forbesyn to the folke this fauchoun thay hengede
That they hadde wonnen with swerd al the world riche.63
A bal of brennande gold the beste was on sette,
His taille trayled theraboute that tourne scholde he nevere
Whan he was lifte upon lofte ther the lord werred,
Bot ay lokande on the londe tille that al laughte were.
Therby the cité myght se no setlyng wolde rise
Ne no treté of no trewes bot the toun yelde,
Or ride on the Romayns, for they han her rede take
Ther britned to be or the burwe wynne.
His wynges brad were abrode boun forto flee,
With belles bordored aboute al of bright selvere,
Redy, whan oughte runnen to ryngen ful loude
With eche a wap of the wynde that to the wynges sprongyn.
I-brytaged bigly aboute the belfray was thanne64
With a tenful toure that over the toun gawged.
The batail by the brightnesse burnes myght knowe
Foure myle therfro, so the feldes schonen.
And on eche pomel were pyght penseles hyghe65
Of selke and sendel with selvere y-betyn:
Hit glitered as gled fure, ful of gold riche,
Over al the cité to se, as the sonne bemys.
Byfor the foure gates he formes to lenge
Sixti thousand by somme while the sege lasteth;
Sette ward on the walles that noght awey scaped,
Sixe thousand in sercle the cité alle aboute.
Was noght while the nyght laste bot nehyng of stedis,
Strogelyng in stele wede, and stuffyng of helmes,
Armyng of olyfauntes and other arwe bestes
Agen the Cristen to come with castels on bake.
Waspasian in stele wede and his wyes alle
Weren dight forth by day and drowen to the vale
Of Josophat, ther Jhesu Crist schal juggen alle thinges,
Bigly batayled hym ther to biden this other.
The fanward Titus toke, to telle upon ferste,
With sixtene thousand soudiours assyned for the nones;
And as mony in the myd-ward were merked to lenge66
Ther Waspasian was with princes and dukes.
And sixtene thousand in the thridde with a thryvande knyght,
Sire Sabyn of Surrie, a siker man of armes,
That prince was of Provynce and michel peple ladde,
Fourty hundred in helmes and harnays to schewe.
And ten thousand atte tail at the tentis lafte,
Hors and harnays fram harmyng to kepe.
By that bemys on the burwe blowen ful loude,
And baners beden hem forth. Now blesse us our Lorde!
[Passus 3]
The Jewes assembled were sone and of the cité come
An hundred thousand on hors with hamberkes atired,
Without folke upon fot at the foure gates
That preset to the place with pauyes on hande.
Fyf and twenti olyfauntes, defensable bestes,
With brode castels on bak out of burwe come;
And on eche olyfaunte armed men manye,
Ay an hundred an hey, an hundred withyn.67
Tho drowen dromedarius doun develich thicke,
An hundred and y-heled with harnays of mayle,
Eche beste with a big tour ther bold men were ynne,
Twenty, told by tale, in eche tour evene.
Cameles closed in stele comen out thanne
Faste toward the feld; a ferlich nonbre
Busked to batail, and on bak hadde
Ech on a toret of tre with ten men of armes.
Chares ful of chosen, charged with wepne
A wondere nonbre ther was, whoso wite lyste.
Many doughti that day, that was adradde nevere,
Were fond fey in the feld er that fight endid.
An olyfaunt y-armed came out at the laste,
Kevered myd a castel, was craftily y-wroght,
A tabernacle in the tour atyred was riche,
Pight as a paveloun on pileres of selvere.
A which of white selvere was sett therynne
On foure goions of gold that hit fram grounde bare;
A chosen chayre therby on charbokeles twelfe,
Betyn al with bright gold with brennande sergis.
The chekes of the chayre were charbokles fyne,
Covered myd a riche clothe, ther Cayphas was sette.
A plate of pulsched gold was pight on his breste
With many preciose perle and pured stones.
Lered men of the lawe that loude couthe synge
With sawters seten hym by and the psalmys tolde
Of doughty David the kyng and other dere storijs:
Of Josue, the noble Jewe, and Judas the knyght.
Cayphas of the kyst kyppid a rolle
And radde how the folke ran throgh the rede water
Whan Pharao and his ferde were in the floode drouned;
And myche of Moyses lawe he mynned that tyme.
Whan this faithles folke to the feld comen
And batayled after the bent with many burne kene,
For baneres that blased and bestes y-armed
Myght no man se throw the sonne ne uneth the cité knowe.
Waspasian dyvyseth the vale alle aboute,
That was with baneres overbrad to the borwe wallis,
To barouns and bold men that hym aboute were
Seith: "Lordlynges a londe, lestenyth my speche:
"Here nys king nother knyght comen to this place,
Baroun ne bachelere ne burne that me folweth,
That the cause of his come nys Crist forto venge
Upon the faithles folke that Hym fayntly slowen.
"Byholdeth the hethyng and the harde woundes,
The byndyng and the betyng, that He on body hadde:
Lat never this lawles ledis laugh at His harmys
That bought us fram bale with blod of His herte.
"Y quycke-clayme the querels of alle quyk burnes
And clayme of evereche kyng - save of Crist one -
That this peple to pyne, no pité ne hadde:
That preveth His Passioun, whoso the Paas redeth.68
"Hit nedith noght at this note of Nero to mynde,
Ne to trete of no trewe for tribute that he asketh:
That querel Y quik-cleyme whether he wilneth
Of this rebel to Rome bot resoun to have.69
"Bot more thing in our mynde myneth us today:
That by resoun to Rome the realté fallyth,
Bothe the myght and the mayn, maistre or ellys,
And lordschip of eche londe that lithe under Heven.
"Lat never this faithles folke with fight of us wynne
Hors ne harnays, bot they hit hard byen,
Plate, ne pesan, ne pendauntes ende,70
While any lyme may laste, or we the lif have.
"For thei ben feynt at the fight, fals of byleve,
And wel wenen at a wap alle they wold quelle.71
Nother grounded on God ne on no grace tristen,
Bot alle in storijs of stoure and in strength one.
"And we ben dight today Drighten to serve:
Hey Heven kyng hede to His owne!"
The ledes louten hym alle and aloude sayde:
"Today, that flethe any fote, the Fende have his soule!"72
Bemes blowen anon, blonkes to neye,
Stedis stampen in the felde undere stele wedes.
Stithe men in stiropys striden alofte;
Knyghtes croysen hemself, cacchen here helmys,73
With loude clarioun cry and alle kyn pypys,
Tymbris and tabourris tonelande loude,
Geven a schillande schout. Schrynken the Jewes,
As womman wepith and waylith whan hire the water neyeth.74
Lacchen launces anon, lepyn togedris,
As fure out of flynt-ston ferde hem bytwene.
Doust drof upon lofte, dymedyn alle aboute
As thonder and thicke rayn throbolande in skyes.
Beren burnes throw, brosten here launces;75
Knyghtes crosschen doun to the cold erthe;
Fought faste in the felde, and ay the fals undere76
Doun swowande to swelt without swar more.
Tytus tourneth hym to, tolles of the beste,
For-justes the jolieste with joynyng of werre.
Suth with a bright bronde he betith on harde
Tille the brayn and the blod on the bent ornen.
Sought throgh another side with a sore wepne,
Bet on the broun stele while the bladde laste,
An hey breydeth the brond and as a bore loketh,77
How hetterly doun, hente whoso wolde!
Alle brightned the bent as bemys of sonne
Of the gilden gere and the goode stones;
For schyveryng of scheldes and schynyng of helmes
Hit ferde, as alle the firmament upon fure were.
Waspasian in the vale the fanward byholdeth,
How the hethyn here heldith to grounde;
Cam with a fair ferde the fals forto mete.
As greved griffouns girden in samen.
Spakly here speres on sprotes they yeden,
Scheldes as schidwod on scholdres to-cleven,
Schoken out of schethes that scharpe was y-grounde,
And mallen metel throgh unmylt hertes.78
Hewen on the hethen, hurtlen togedre,
For-schorne gild schroud, schedered burnee.
Baches woxen ablode aboute in the vale,
And goutes fram gold wede as goteres they runne.79
Sire Sabyn setteth hym up whan hit so yede,
Rideth myd the rereward and alle the route folweth,
Kenely the castels came to assayle
That the bestes on here bake out of burwe ladden.
Atles on the olyfauntes that orible were,
Girdith out the guttes with grounden speres:
Rappis rispen forth that rydders an hundred
Scholde be busy to burie that on a bent lafte.80
Castels clateren doun, cameles brosten,
Dromedaries to the deth drowen ful swythe;
The blode fomed hem fro in flasches aboute
That kne-depe in the dale dascheden stedes.
The burnes in the bretages that above were
For the doust and the dyn - as alle doun yede
Al for-stoppette in stele - starke-blynde wexen
Whan hurdighs and hard erthe hurtled togedre,
And under dromedaries dyed in that stounde.
Was non left upon lyve that alofte standeth -
Save an anlepy olyfaunt at the grete gate
Ther as Cayphas the clerke in a castel rideth.
He say the wrake on hem wende and away tourneth
With twelf maystres made of Moyses lawe.
An hundred helmed men hien hem after,
Er they of castel myght come, caughten hem alle,
Bounden the bischup on a bycchyd wyse
That the blode out barst ilka band undere,
And broghten to the berfray, and alle the bew-clerkes
Ther the standard stode, and stadded hem ther.
The beste and the britage and alle the bright gere -
Chaire and chaundelers and charbokel stones,
The rolles that they redde on, and alle the riche bokes -
They broghte myd the bischup, thou hym bale thoughte.81
Anon the feythles folke fayleden herte,
Tourned toward the toun and Tytus hem after:
Fele of the fals ferde in the felde lefte,
An hundred in here helmes myd his honde one.
The fals Jewes in the felde fallen so thicke
As hail froward Heven, hepe over other;
So was the bent over-brad, blody by-runne,
With ded bodies aboute alle the brod vale.
Myght no stede doun stap bot on stele wede,
Or on burne, other on beste, or on bright scheldes;
So myche was the multitude that on the molde lafte
Ther so many were mart; merevail were ellis.
Yit were the Romayns as rest as they fram Rome come,
Unriven eche a renk and noght a ryng brosten;
Was no poynt perschid of alle here pris armure:
So Crist His knyghtes gan kepe tille complyn tyme.
An hundred thousand helmes of the hethen syde
Were fey fallen in the felde or the fight ended,
Save seven thousand of the somme, that to the cité flowen,
And wynnen with mychel wo the walles withynne.82
Ledes lepen to anon, louken the gates,
Barren hem bigly with boltes of yren,
Brayden up brigges with brouden chaynes
And portecolis with pile picchen to grounde.
Thei wynnen up whyghtly the walles to kepe,
Frasche, unfounded folke, and grete defence made;
Tyeth into tourres tonnes ful manye83
With grete stones of gret and of gray marble.
Kepten kenly with caste the kernels alofte,84
Quarten out querels with quarters attonys.
That other folke at the fote freschly assayled85
Tille eche dale with dewe was donked aboute.
Withdrowen hem fro the diche, dukes and other -
The caste was so kene that come fram the walles -
Comen forthe with the kyng clene as they yede,
Wanted noght o wye, ne non that wem hadde.
Princes to here pavelouns passen on swythe,
Unarmen hem as tyt and alle the nyght resten86
With wacche umbe the walles to many wyes sorowe;
They wolle noght the hethen here thus harmeles be lafte.
[Passus 4]
As rathe as the rede day ros yn the schye,
Bemes blowen on brode burnes to ryse.
The kyng comaundeth a-cry that comsed was sone,87
The ded bodies on the bonke bare forto make:
To spoyle the spilt folke, spare scholde none,
Geten girdeles and gere, gold and goode stones,
Byes, broches bryght, besauntes riche,
Helmes hewen of gold, hamberkes manye.
Kesten ded upon ded, was deil to byholde,
Made wayes full wide and to the walles comen;
Assembleden at the cité saut to bygynne,
Folke ferlich thycke at the foure gates.
They broghten toures of tre that they taken hadde88
Agen evereche gate, garken hem hey;
Bygonnen at the grettist a garrite to rere,
Groded up fro the grounde on twelf grete postes.
Hit was wonderlich wide, wroght upon hyghte,
Fyve hundred in frounte to fighten at the walles.
Hardy men upon hyghte hyen at the grecys
And bygonnen with bir the borow to assayle.
Quarels, flambande of fure, flowen out harde,
And arwes unarwely, with attyr envenymyd,
Taysen at the toures, tachen on the Jewes;
Throgh kernels cacchen here deth many kene burnes.89
Brenten and beten doun beldes full thycke,
Brosten the britages and the brode toures.
By that was many bold burne the burwe to assayle.90
The hole batail boun, aboute the brode walles
That were byg and brode and bycchet to wynne,
Wondere heye to byholde with holwe diches undere,
Heye-bonked above upon bothe halves,
Right wicked to wynne, bot yif wyles helpe.
Bowmen atte bonke benden here gere,
Schoten up scharply to the schene walles
With arwes and arblastes and alle that harme myght,
To affray the folke that defence made.
The Jewes werien the walles with wyles ynowe,
Hote playande picche amonge the peple yeten:
Brennande leed and brynston, many barels fulle,
Schoten schynande doun right as schyre water.
Waspasian wendeth fram the walles wariande hem alle;
Other busked were boun, benden engynes,91
Kesten at the kernels and clustred toures,
And monye der daies worke dongen to grounde.
By that wrightes han wroght a wonder stronge pale
Alle aboute the burwe, with bastiles manye,
That no freke myght unfonge withouten fele harmes,
Ne no segge undere sonne myght fram the cité passe.
Suth dommyn the diches with the ded corses,
Crammen hit myd karayn the kirnels alle under,
That the stynk of the stewe myght strike over the walles
To cothe the corsed folke that hem kepe scholde.92
The cors of the condit that comen to toun
Stoppen, evereche a streem, ther any strande yede,
With stockes and stones and stynkande bestes,
That they no water myght wynne that weren enclosed.
Waspasian tourneth to his tente with Titus and other,
Commaundeth consail anon on Cayphas to sitte,
What deth by dome that he dey scholde
With the lettered ledes that they laughte hadde.
Domesmen upon deyes demeden swythe
That ech freke were quyk-fleyn, the felles of clene:
Firste to be on a bent with blonkes to-drawe,
And suth honget on an hep upon heye galwes,93
The feet to the firmament, alle folke to byholden,
With hony upon ech half the hydeles anoynted;
Corres and cattes with claures ful scharpe
Foure kagged and knyt to Cayphases theyes;
Twey apys at his armes to angren hym more,
That renten the rawe flesche upon rede peces.
So was he pyned fram prime with persched sides
Tille the sonne doun sett in the someretyme.
The lered men of the lawe a litel bynythe
Weren tourmented on a tre, topsailes walten,
Knyt to everech clerke kene corres twey,
That alle the cité myght se the sorow that they dryven.
The Jewes walten over the walles for wo at that tyme,
Seven hundred slow hemself for sorow of here clerkes,
Somme hent here heere and fram the hed pulled,
And somme doun for deil daschen to grounde.
The kyng lete drawen hem adoun whan they dede were,
Bade: "A bole-fure betyn to brennen the corses,
Kesten Cayphas theryn and his clerkes alle,
And brennen evereche bon into browne askes.
Suth wende to the walle on the wynde syde,
And alle abrod on the burwe blowen the powdere:
'Ther is doust for your drynke!' adoun to hem crieth,
And bidde hem bible of that broth for the bischop soule."
Thus ended coursed Cayphas and his clerkes twelf,
Al to-brused myd bestes, brent at the laste,
In tokne of tresoun and trey that they wroght,
Whan Crist throw here conseil was cacched to deth.
By that was the day don: dymmed the skyes,
Merked montayns and mores aboute,
Foules fallen to fote and here fethres rysten,
The nyght-wacche to the walle and waytes to blowe.94
Bryght fures aboute betyn abrode in the oste;
The kyng and his consail carpen togedre,
Chosen chyventayns out and chiden no more,
Bot charged the chek-wecche and to chambre wenten,
Kynges and knyghtes, to cacchen hem reste.
Waspasian lyth in his logge, litel he slepith,
Bot walwyth and wyndith and waltreth aboute,
Ofte tourneth for tene and on the toun thynketh.
Whan schadewes and schire day scheden attwynne,
Leverockes upon lofte lyfteth here stevenes;
Burnes busken hem out of bedde with bemes full loude
Bothe blowyng on bent and on the burwe walles.95
Waspasian bounys of bedde, busked hym fayre
Fram the face to the fourche in fyne gold clothes.
Suth putteth the prince over his pallen wedes
A brynye, browded thicke, with a brestplate:
The grate of gray steel and of gold riche.
Therover he casteth a cote, colour of his armys;
A grete girdel of gold without gere othere
Layth umbe his lendis with lacchetes ynow.
A bryght burnesched swerd he belteth alofte,
Of pure polisched gold the pomel and the hulte.
A brod schynande scheld on scholdire he hongith,
Bocklyd myd bright gold, above at the necke.
The glowes of gray steel, that were with gold hemmyd,
Hanleth harnays and his hors asketh.96
The gold-hewen helme haspeth he blyve,
With viser and avental devysed for the nones.
A croune of clene gold was closed upon lofte,
Rybaunde umbe the rounde helm, ful of riche stones,
Pyght prudely with perles into the pure corners,
And so with saphyres sett the sydes aboute.
He strideth on a stif stede and striketh over the bente
Light as a lyoun were loused out of cheyne.
His segges sewen hym alle, and echon sayth to other:
"This is a comlich kyng knyghtes to lede!"
He boweth to the barres, or he bide wolde,
And bet on with the brond that all the bras rynges:
"Cometh, caytifes, forth, ye that Crist slowen,
Knoweth Hym for your kyng, or ye cacche more.
"Wayteth doun fro the walle, what wo his on hande:
May ye fecche you no fode thogh ye fey worthe!
And thogh ye waterles wede, wynne ye hit never,
O droppe thogh ye dey scholde daies in your lyve!97
"The pale that I pight have, passe hit who myght,
That is so byg on the bonke and hath the burowe closed,
Fourty to defenden agens fyve hundred -
Thogh ye were etnes ech on in scholde ye tourne!
"And more manschyp were hit mercy to byseche
Than metles marre there no myght helpys."
Was non that warpith a word, bot waytes here poyntes
Gif any stertis on stray with stones hem to kylle.98
Than, wroth as a wode bore, he wendeth his bridul:
"Gif ye as dogges wol dey, the devel have that recche!
And or I wende fro this walle, ye schul wordes schewe;
And efte spakloker speke or Y your speche owene!"99
By that a Jewe, Josophus, the gentyl clerke,
Hadde wroght a wondere wyle whan hem water fayled:
Made wedes of wolle in wete forto plunge,100
Water-waschen as they were, and on the walle hengen.
The wedes dropeden doun, and dryen yerne.
Rich rises hem fro; the Romayns byholden,
Wenden wel here wedes hadde wasschyng so ryve
That no wye in the wone water schold fayle.
Bot Waspasian the wile wel ynow knewe,
Loude lawghthe therat and lordlynges byddis:
"No burne abasched be, thogh they this bost make;
Hit beth bot wyles of werre, for water hem fayleth."
Than was nothyng bot note newe to bygynne,
Assaylen on eche a side the cité by halves,
Merken myd manglouns ful unmete dyntes.
And myche of masouns note they marden that tyme.101
Therof was Josophus ware, that myche of werre couthe,
And sette on the walle side sakkes myd chaf,
Agens the streyngthe of the stroke ther the stones hytte,
That alle dered noght a dyghs bot grete dyt made.
The Romayns runne to anon and on roddes knytte
Sithes for the sackes, that selly were kene,
Raghten to the ropis, rent hem in sondere,
That alle dasschande doun into the diche flatten.
Bot Josophus the gynful here engynes alle
Brente with brennande oyle and myche bale wroght.
Waspasian wounded was ther wonderlich sore
Throw the hard of the hele with an hande-darte
That boot throw the bote and the bone nayled
Of the frytted fote in the folis syde.102
Sone assembled hym to many sadde hundred
That wolden wrecken the wounde, other wo habiden.
They braydyn to the barres, bekered yerne,
Fought right felly, foyned with speres,
Jokken Jewes throgh. Engynes by thanne
Were manye bent at the bonke and to the burwe threwen.
Ther were selcouthes sen, as segges mowe here:
A burne with a balwe ston was the brayn clove,
The gretter pese of the panne the pyble forth striketh,
That hit flow into the feld, a forlong or more;103
A womman, bounden with a barn, was on the bely hytte
With a ston of a stayre, as the storyj telleth,
That the barn out brayde fram the body clene
And was born up as a bal over the burwe walles;
Burnes were brayned and brosed to deth;
Wymmen wide open walte undere stones;
Frosletes fro the ferst to the flor thrylled;
And many toret doun tilte the Temple aboute.
The cité had ben seised myd saut at that tyme
Nad the folke be so fers that the Fende served,104
That kilden on the Cristen, and kepten the walles
With arwes and arblastes and archelers manye,
With speres and spryngoldes sponnen out hard,
Dryven dartes adoun, geven depe woundes,
That manye renke out of Rome by restyng of sonne
Was mychel levere a leche than layke myd his toles.105
Waspasian stynteth of the stoure, steweth his burnes
That were forbeten and bled undere bryght yren;
Tyen to here tentis myd tene that they hadde,
Al wery of that werk and wounded ful sore.
Helmes and hamberkes hadden of sone,
Leches by torchelight loken here hurtes,
Waschen woundes with wyn and with wolle stoppen,
With oyle and orisoun, ordeyned in charme.
Suth evereche a segge to the soper yede;
Thogh they wounded were was no wo nempned
Bot daunsyng and no deil with dynnyng of pipis
And the nakerer noyse alle the nyght-tyme.
Whan the derk was doun and the day sprongen,
Sone after the sonne sembled the grete,
Comen forth with the kyng conseil to here,
Alle the knyghthod clene that for Crist werred.
Waspasian waiteth a-wide, his wyes byholdeth
That were freschere to fight than at the furst tyme,
Prayeth princes on ernest and alle the peple after
That eche wye of that werre schold his wille specke:
"For or this toun be tak, and this toures heye,
Michel torfere and tene us tides on hande."106
They tourned alle to Titus and hym the tale graunten
Of the cité and the sege to seyn for hem alle.
Than Titus tourneth hem to and talkyng bygynneth:
"Thus to layke with this lese folke us lympis the worse,107
For they ben fele of defence, ferce men and noble,
And this toured toun is tenful to wynne.
"The worst wrecche in the wone may on walle lygge,
Strike doun with a ston and stuny many knyghtes,
Whan we schul hone and byholde and litel harme wirche,
And ay the lothe of the layk light on usselve.108
"Now mowe they ferke no ferre here fode forto wynne;
Wolde we stynt of our strif, whyle they here store marden?109
We scholde with hunger hem honte, to hoke out of toun,
Without weme or wounde or any wo elles.
"For ther as fayleth the fode ther is feynt strengthe,
And ther as hunger is hote, hertes ben feble."
Alle assenteden to the sawe that to the sege longed,
Apaied as the prince and the peple wolde.
To the kyng were called constables thanne,
Marchals and masers, men that he tristith;
He chargeth hem chefly for chaunce that may falle,
With wacche of waled men the walles to kepe:
"For we wol hunten at the hart this hethes aboute,
And hure racches renne amonge this rowe bonkes,110
Ride to the rever and rere up the foules,
Se faucouns fle, fele of the beste."
Ech segge to the solas that hymself lyked,
Princes out of pavelouns presen on stedes,
Torneien, trifflyn and on the toun wayten.
This lyf they ledde longe: oure Lord gyve us grace!
[Passus 5]
In Rome Nero hath now mychel noye wroght:
To deth pyned the pope and mychel peple quelled,111
Petre, apostlen prince, and Seint Poule bothe,
Senek and the senatours; and alle the cité fured;
His modire and his mylde wif murdred to dethe;
Combred Cristen fele, that on Crist leved.
The Romayns resen anon, whan they this rewthe seyen,
To quelle the emperour quyk that hem unquemed hadde.112
They pressed to his paleys, porayle and other,
To brytten the bold kyng in his burwe riche;
The cité and the senatours, assented hem bothe,
Non other dede was to doun: they han his dome yolden.
Than flowe that freke, frendles, alone,
Out at a privé posterne, and alle the peple folwed.
With a tronchoun of tre, toke he no more
Of alle the glowande gold that he on grounde hadde.
On that tronchoun with his teth he toggeth and byteth,
Tille hit was piked at the poynt as a prikkes ende.
Than abideth that burne and biterlych speketh
To alle the wyes that ther were wordes aloude:
"Tourneth, traytours, agen! Schal never the tale rise
Of no karl by the coppe, how he his kyng quelde."
Hymself he stryketh myd that staf, streght to the hert,
That the colke to-clef, and the kyng deyed.
Six monthe after, and no more, this myschef bytydde,
That Waspasian was went to werry on the Jewes;
Foure mettyn myle out of Rome to mynden forevere,
That erst was emperour of alle thus ended in sorow.
The grete togedres gan, geten hem another,
On Gabba, a gome that mychel grem hadde
Throgh Othis Lucyus, a lord that hym longe hated.
And at the last that lord out of lyf hym broght:
Amydde the market of Rome they metten togedres;
Othis fallith hym fey, gaf hym fale woundes
That foure monthes and more hadde mayntened the croune;
And tho deyed the duke and diademe lefte.
And whan that Gabba was gon and to grounde broght,
Othis entrith on ernest and emperour was made;
That man in his majesté was monthes bot thre,
Than he yeldeth Sathanas the soule and hymself quelled.113
The Romayns raisen a renk Rome forto kepe,
A knyght that Vitel was calde, and hym the croune raughte . . .114
[. . . .]
Bot for Sire Sabyn's sake, a segge that was noble,
Waspasian brother of blode, that he brytned hadde . . .
[. . . .]
Waspasian upon Vitel to vengen his brother
Sent out of Surrie segges to Rome . . .
[. . . .]
That as naked as an nedul the newe emperour,
For Sire Sabyns sake, alle the cité drowe;
Suth gored the gome that his guttes alle
As a boweled beste into his breche felle.
Doun yermande he yede and yeldeth the soule,
And they kayght the cors and kast into Tybre.
Seven monthes this segge hadde septre on hande,
And thus loste he the lyf for his luther dedes.
Another segge was to seke that septre schold have,
For alle this grete ben gon and never agayn tournen.
Now of the cité and of the sege wolle Y sey more,
How this comelich kyng, that for Crist werreth,
Hath holden yn the hethen men this other half wynter,
That never burne of the burwe so bold was to passe.
As he to dyner on a day with dukes was sette,
Comen renkes fram Rome, rapande swythe,115
In bruneys and in bryght wede and with bodeworde newe,
Louten alle to the lord, and lettres hym raughten;
Sayn: "Comelich kyng! The knyghthod of Rome,
Throgh the senatours assent and alle the cité ellis,
Han chosen thee for chyventayn, here chef lord to worthe,116
And riche emperour of Rome. Thus redeth this lettres."
The lord unlappeth the lef, this lettres byholdeth,
Overloketh ech a lyne to the last ende.
Bordes born were doun, and the burne riseth,
Calleth consail anon and kytheth this speche:
"Ye ben burnes of my blod, that Y best wolde,
My sone is next to myself, and other sib manye:
Sire Sabyn of Surrie, a segge that Y triste,
And other frendes fele that me fayth owen.
"Now is me bodeword broght of blys froward Rome,
To be lord over that lond as this lettres speketh.
Sire Sabyn of Surrie, sey thee byhovyth
How Y myght savy myself and I so wroght;
"For Y have heylych heyght here forto lenge
Tille I this toured toun have taken at my wille
And me the gates ben get and golden the keyes,
And suth houshed on hem that this hold kepyn,
"Brosten and betyn doun this britages heye
That never ston in that stede stond upon othere.
Kythe thy consail, sire knyght," this kyng to hym sayde,
"For Y wol worche by thy witt gif worschip may folowe!"
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