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|
Whan Aurora, with hir pale light,
Under the mantel of the mirké nyght
And the curtyn of her hewes fade
Ischroudid was in the dirke schade,
Abasched rody, as I can diffyne,
Only of fer that is femynyne,
Foraschamyd durste nat be seyn
Because sche had so longe abedde leyn
With fresche Febus, hir owne chose knyght,
For whiche sche hidde hir sothly out of sight
Til his stede that callid is Flegonte
Enhasted hym above oure orizonte;
And Appollo with his bemys clere
Hath recounforted hir oppressid chere -
This to seyne, aftir the dawenyng,
Whan Titan was in the est rysyng,
Of his hete atempre and right softe
Her emyspery for to glade alofte -
The same hour the Troyan champioun,
Governour of werris of the toun,
Worthi Ector, whiche in the cité
Next Priam had of alle sovereinté
The toun to guye be knyghtly excellence,
For his manhod and his sapience
Of Troyan knyghtes lord and eke chefteyn,
Whiche hath commaunded in a large pleyn,
To highe and low, he exceptyng noon,
Kynges, princes, and lordis everychon,
The same morwe for to mete ifere,
In hir array to moustre and appere,
Like as thei were of name and of estate,
Besyde a temple whilom consecrate
To the goddes that callid is Dyane,
Moste honoured in that riche fane -
Ther to arraye hem, in al the haste thei can,
Lik the devis of this knyghtly man.
[Hector supervises the arming of all the Trojans and sets the
order of battle. He divides the forces into nine divisions, each
led by his legitimate and natural brothers in addition to
foreign kings. He assigns a rearguard to Priam, with special
orders to stay between the main troops and the city. The
women of Troy watch from the walls as the troops move
forward (lines 37-535).]
And of Grekis furthe I wil yow telle,
Yif so be ye list abide a whyle,
For now most I my fordullid stile
Ageyn directe to Agamenoun.
Wel may I make an exclamacioun
On ignoraunce, that stant so in my light,
Whiche causeth me with a ful cloudy sight
In my makynge to speken of the werre.
For lak of termys I mote nedis erre
Connyngly my wordis for to sette;
Cruel Allecto is besy me to lette,
The nyghtes doughter, blindid by dirknes,
Be craft of armys the trouthe to expresse
In ordre due a feld to discryve.
And Chaucer now, allas, is nat alyve
Me to reforme or to be my rede
(For lak of whom slougher is my spede),
The noble rethor that alle dide excelle;
For in makyng he drank of the welle
Undir Pernaso that the Musis kepe,
On whiche hil I myghte never slepe -
Onnethe slombre - for whiche, allas, I pleyne.
But for al this, ther is no more to seyne.
Though my wede be nat polymyte,
Colourles, forthe I wil endyte
As it cometh evene to my thought,
Pleinly to write how the kyng hath wrought,
The manly knyght, gret Agamenoun,
Lyk as the Latyn maketh mencioun.
What! Trowe ye that he in his entent
Was founde sloughe outher necligent
On Grekis half his wardis for to make?
Nay, nay, nat so; for hym list to wake
That tyme more, sothly, than to slepe,
Ful lik a kyng that day the feld to kepe.
Nor necligence myght his herte sade,
For in that day I fynde that he made
Six and twenty wardis by and by,
So wel devised and so prudently
That no man myght amende his ordinaunce.
And of the first he yaf governaunce
To the manful noble Patroclus
That with hym ladde (myn auctour telleth thus)
Mirmidones, so myghti and so stronge,
With alle the folke that to Achilles longe,
Besyde thilke that wern of his meyné
Whiche that he brought out of his contré
At his comyng to the sege of Troye;
And he rood furthe with hem on his woye
Into the feld and made no delaye.
Now fille it so on the same day
That Achilles kepte hym in his tente
And for seknes that day oute ne wente;
For his lechis made hym to abstene,
For his woundes fresche wern and grene
That he kaught on the day tofore,
Whiche for to hele of her akyng sore
He be counseil kepte hym silfe cloos
And from his bed that day nat ne roos,
In hope only the bettre to endure
Whan that he was restored unto cure.
But alle his men he toke to Patroclus,
Whiche was in armys passyngly famus
And be discent come of gret kynrede,
And was also - of hym as I rede -
Habundaunt of gold and of riches,
And fer comendid for his gentilles,
And hadde a name of highe discrecioun.
Now was ther evere swiche affeccioun
Of entere love, trouthe, and feithfulnes,
So gret desyre and inward kyndenes,
Besy thinkyng, and so gret fervence,
So moche frendeschip and thoughtful advertence,
So huge brennyng, passyng amerous,
Betwixe Achilles and this Patroclus
That her hertis were lokkid in o cheyne.
And whatsoever, if I schal nat feyne,
The ton hath wrought, as brother unto brother,
In hert it was confermyd of the tother;
For wil and godys bothe were commune,
And to the deth thei evere so contune -
Withoute chaunge her love so abood.
And Patroclus furthe amonge hem rood
Into the feld with Myrmidones,
And in his tent abideth Achilles.
[Agamemnon, like Hector, disposes his troops in divisions led
by heroes and kings. The Greeks move forward, with their
banners and devices signaling their burning desire for battle,
and they confront the Trojans. Patroclus leads the first
division in place of Achilles, whose physicians prevail on him
not to take the field because of the wounds he suffered the day
before (lines 621-743).]
The first, asondre but a litel space,
Began to approche with al her ful myght;
And Hector tho lik a doughty knyght
Formest of alle on the side of Troye,
The ire of whom no man myght acoye
But lik a lyoun in his hungri rage,
Issed oute, furious of visage,
Toward Grekis on his myghti stede,
That with his sporis made his sides blede:
His knyghtly hert so inly was totorn
Of mortal ire. And as he rood toforn,
Brennynge ful hote in his malencolye,
The whiche thing whan Grekis gan espie,
Patroclus withoute more abood
Of surquedie afore the wardis rood
Oute al toforn, in bothe hostis sight,
For to encontre pleinly, yif he myght,
With worthi Hector whan he him saw afer,
And as right lyne as is diameter,
Rood unto hym in his hatful tene;
And with a spere scharpe grounde and kene
Thorughoute his schelde, of envious rage,
He smote Hector withoute more damage,
Except only that the hed of stele
That was toforn, forged and whet ful wele,
Thorugh plate and maile myghtely gan glace,
But to the skyn for no thing myght hit trace:
Albe it cam of passyng violence,
Yit to Hector it dide noon offence,
Oute of his sadel onys hym to flitte.
For though that he sturdely hym hitte,
He myghte nat bakward bow his chyne
Nor on no parti make hym to enclyne;
But fatally to his confusioun
This myghti man, this Troyan champioun,
In his ire ay brennynge more and more,
Upon hym the hate frat so sore,
Lefte his spere, myn auctor writeth thus,
And with a swerd rood to Patroclus,
Avised fully that he schal be ded,
And furiously gan hamen at his hed,
And rof hym doun - ther was no maner lette -
Into the brest thorugh his basenet,
As seith Guydo, with so gret a peyne
That with the stroke he partid hym on tweyne.
His mortal swerde whettid was so kene
That Patroclus myghte nat sustene
Upon his hors but fil doun to grounde,
As he that kaught his laste fatal wounde,
Beyng present his knyghtes everychon.
And delyverly upon hym anon
Worthi Hector from his stede adoun
Discendid is lik a wode lyoun,
Of hatful ire brennynge as the fire,
Havinge in hert inly gret desire
To spoilen hym of his armure anoon,
In whiche ther was ful many riche stoon,
Bothe of rubies and saphiris Ynde:
For thilke daies, pleinly as I fynde,
Kynges, lordis, and knyghtes (this no nay)
To bataille went in her best array.
And sothly Hector, whan he first gan se
The multitude of stonys and perré
On Patroclus, so orient and schene,
Upon his arme he hynge his horse rene,
The menewhile whil he of hool entent
To cacche his praye was so dilligent
Of covetyse in ther alder sightes,
Til Merioun with thre thousand knyghtes
Armed in stele rounde aboute hym alle
Is sodeynly upon Hector falle,
The dede cors of Patroclus to save,
That his purpos Hector may nat have
At liberté the riche kyng to spoille,
Whiche caused hym in anger for to boille.
To whom the kyng callid Merion,
Irous and wood, seide among echon:
"O gredy lyoun, O wolfe most ravenous,
O hatful tygre, passyng envious
Of avarice, O beste insaturable
And of desire sothly unstaunchable,
Upon this pray thou schalt the nat now fede;
Go elliswhere to swe for thi mede:
For truste well, in conclusioun,
Fifti thousand to thi distructioun,
Of oon entent, pleinly wil nat faille
Thin hatful pride attonys for to assaille!"
And sodeinly with speris scharpe whette
On every half thei gonne hym besette,
Maugre his force, his myght, and his manhede,
Enforcyng hem t'arevid him his stede, 1
That sothfastly of gret violence
He constreyned, for al his strong diffence,
As seith Guydo, to falle upon his kne;
But thorugh his myght and magnanymyté,
He of manhood hath his hors recurid
And among Grekis is so moche assurid
In his strengthe and his grete myght
That he recurid lik a worthi knyght
His stede ageyn amiddes alle his foon.
And right as lyne he rood to Merion,
Ful desyrous avengid on hym to be
In his furye of hasty cruelté;
For theruppon was sette al his delit,
That in his mortal blody appetit,
In verray soth, he hadde hym slaw anon,
Save that the kyng which callid was Glacon
Cam to rescue hym with Kyng Theseus
And his sone that hight Archilagus,
As I have tolde, Merion to rescue.
And thre thousand knyghtes gan hym swe,
Ful assentid attonis in bataille
For lyf or deth Hector to assaille,
In await unwar on hym to sette.
But al this whyle with whom that ever he mette,
With his swerde he kylleth and bare doun,
That finally ther gayneth no raunsoun;
For any Greke that durst wyth hym mete
At departyng felte ful unswete:
He made a weye aboute hym everywhere,
That thei fledde hym as the deth for fere,
For where he rod he made a path ful pleyn.
And as I rede, to Patroclus ageyn
He is repeired to spoille hym, yif he myght,
Amyd the feld in the Grekis sight,
As he that wolde his praye nat lightly lete,
Til Ydwme cam, the worthi Kyng of Crete,
With two thousand clad in plate and maille,
Worthi knyghtes, Hector to assaille
Whyles that he was so desirous,
As I have tolde, to spoille Patroclus,
And new ageyn to his confusioun,
Lyk as I fynde, cam Kyng Merioun;
And or Hector myghte taken hede,
Thei of force reften hym his stede,
That sothly he (ther was noon other bote)
Compellid was for to fight on fote.
And of knyghthod his herte he reswmeth;
And with his swerde aboute hym he conswmeth
Al that withstood, bothen hors and man;
And furiously this Troyan knyght began
Armys, leggis, schuldris, by the boon,
To hewen of amyd his mortal foon,
That Grekis myght aforn him nat sustene
And, as I rede, that he slowe fiftene
Of hem that were besy hym to take,
And swiche a slawghter he gan among hem make,
That thei ne durste abide aforn his face.
And Merion in the silfe place
This menewhile toke up Patroclus
With hevy chere and face ful pitous;
And on his stede he leide it hym beforn;
And to his tent anon he hath it born,
Alwey Grekis in her cruel mood
Aboute Hector, furious and wood,
Felly abood, fightynge upon fote.
[The Greeks continue their furious assault on Hector, but the
Trojans rush to his support and force the Greeks to retreat.
Hector remounts his horse and resumes his slaughter of the
Greeks (lines 900-75).]
For thilke day the lyoun pleyed he,
Upon Grekis his manhod for to haunte;
For he her pride so mortally gan daunte
That thei hym fled, whereso that he rood,
Makyng al hoot the stremys of her blood
Endelonge to renne upon the grene,
Til the tyme the duke of grete Athene
That callid was whilom Menesteus
With thre thousand knyghtes ful famous,
Of whiche he was bothe lord and guyde,
The feld hath taken upon the lefte side,
For a deceyt, in ful secré wyse,
Where Troylus was with the folke of Fryse
Whiche hath that day, whoso liste to seke,
By his knyghthod kylled many Greke.
Liche a tigre gredy on his pray,
Troylus bar hym al the longe day,
Sleynge of Grekis many worthi knyght.
And while that he was besiest in fight
Ageyn his foon with Kyng Antipus
And the kyng that highte Alcanus,
Upon Grekis elyche fresche and newe,
Makynge her sydes al of blody hewe,
By oon assent, this thre thorugh her manhede -
And specially uppon his baye stede
Whersoever that this Troylus rood,
Every Greke that his swerd abood
Sodeinly he made for to sterve,
Thorugh her platis so depe he dide kerve.
And this contuneth til duke Meneste
Of Troylus sawe the grete cruelté
And the slawghtre that he on Grekis made -
Of hasty ire, with face pale and fade,
Hent a spere and threwe it in the reste
And Troylus smet evene amyd the breste
So sternely that maugre his renoun
To the erthe anon he bare hym doun
In the myddis of his mortal foon
That cruelly hym besette anoon
And him to treyne leide out hoke and laas
Rounde aboute in maner of compas,
With spere and darte and swerdis forgid bright.
But he hymsilf diffendith like a knyght,
With gret manhod his honour to avaunce,
Albe his lif was honged in balaunce
Where he stood and felte ful unswete,
In poynt of deth amonge the horse fete,
With gret await of duke Meneste
How this Troylus myght have take be
Of mortal hate castyng in his thought,
At meschef take that he eskape nought.
On every half he was so besette
With swerdis rounde, kene gronde and whette,
Allone, allas, mortally bestadde;
Thei sesid hym, and furthe thei han hym ladde,
Til Miseres, a worthi knyght of Troye,
Gan to crye as he stood in the woye,
Forabassched, in right furious wyse:
"O ye noble worthi men of Fryse!
Manly knyghtes, ay preved in the feld,
Most renomed bothe with spere and scheld,
Considereth now unto your highe fame
And adverteth the glorie of youre name,
How this day thorugh youre necligence,
By the power and myghti violence
Of the Grekis Troylus is itake
Sool in the feld. For ye han hym forsake,
That schal rebounde to youre alder schame:
For ye in soth gretly are to blame,
Yif he that is of worthinesse flour
Be take of Grekis for lak of socour,
That, but yif ye taken hasty wreche,
Schamful report your honour schal apeche
Perpetuelly and seide therof amys
In youre defaute that Troylus taken is,
Whiche named be so worthi and famus."
And with that word the Kyng Alcamus
Of malencolye felt his herte ryve,
And in his ire hent a spere blyve,
And prikynge after enhasteth what he might,
Til he of hem pleinly had a sight
That besy wern Troylus for to lede.
And he ful knyghtly sittyng on his stede
Ran oon thorugh, that he fil doun ded;
And eft ageyn, pale and no thing red,
In his rancour no lenger wolde lette,
But a Greke, the firste that he mette,
Thorugh the body smette he with a spere,
That men myghte se the poynt afere,
By brest and plate thorugh the scholder-bon,
That to the grounde he fil doun ded anoon.
And therwithal the worthi Freses alle
Cam flokmel doun and on Grekis falle
So myghtely that, maugre her diffence,
Thei sette upon with so gret violence
That Troylus is from al daunger fré;
And thorugh her knyghtly magnanymyté
Thei maden hym to recure his stede.
And specially helpyng in this nede
Was Zantipus, the stronge manly kyng,
Whiche of disdeyn at his incomyng
On Meneste gan his spere grate,
And thorugh his scheld, mail, and thikke plate,
So sore he smot that this Menestee
Had be ded, nadde his armour be;
Whiche for ire gan to tremble and schake
That Troylus was from his hondis take
And eskaped to be prisoner,
Dispit his berd and maugre his power.
Wherfor he gan of hasti hoot envie
On his knyghtes furiously to crye
That wer so myghti, renomed, and stronge,
To peynen hem for to venge his wronge
Upon Troyens, to mete hem in the face.
And thei in hast gan myghtely enbrace
Her scharpe speris, grounde for to bite,
And felly foyne, and togidre smyte.
For tho began the grete mortal werre:
The fire brast out, schene as any sterre,
On basenettis and her platis bright,
That thorugh the feld flawmeth the light;
To lyf nor deth thei toke tho non hede;
And doun the playn, bothe in lengthe and brede,
The wardis gan proudly to avale;
And with lokis of envie pale,
Thei aproche and assemble ifere,
In hate brennynge that no man may stere,
And gan hurtle with spere, swerd, and darte,
And mortally upon every parte
The slaughter gan gretly for to rewe.
[As the wholesale battle begins, Hector kills many Greeks
and the Trojans seize the advantage. When he advances alone
in the fray, the Greek King Theseus, moved by admiration and
his sense of gentility, warns him not to risk his life foolishly.
Hector later returns the noble gesture by prevailing on the
Trojans to allow Theseus to escape. Nestor arrives with more
Greek troops, but Aeneas advances from Troy with
reinforcements. As Aeneas and Ajax fight, Ulysses joins the
battle, driving back the Trojans and nearly killing Paris, who
is rescued by Troilus. Hector eventually calls on Priam to
commit the reserves, and he fights Ajax. Greek and Trojan
heroes ride to each other's rescue, and in the battle Hector
confronts King Merion, who rescued Patroclus's body after
Hector had slain him (lines 1106-1888).]
And as I rede, amyd of his victorie
Hector mette under a tentorie
Amonge Grekis Merioun the Kyng,
To whom he spake withoute more tariyng:
"O thow traytour, the hour aprocheth faste,
For thow arte come sothly to thi laste;
Thi fatal day hath his cours ironne.
For truste wel, or westring of the sonne
I cast pleinly to quite the thi mede
And with my swerd in haste thi blood to schede:
For thou so bolde were on me today
To lettyn me of my riche praye
At the spoilynge of Kyng Patroclus -
That for cause thou were presumptuous
Me to distourbe, thou schalt anon be ded."
And doun he stirte, and smote of first his hed,
And hym to spoille also gan hym haste;
But Meneste cam on hym as faste,
Whan he behilde traverse at his bake,
And with a spere, in whiche was no lake,
Smot hym in with grete violence,
Withoute sight, or any advertence
Of worthi Hector, or any takynge hede,
The wounde of whom sore gan to blede.
But out he went and made it faste bynde;
And Meneste stale aweye behynde,
Nat in purpos sothly, yif he may,
To mete Hector of al that ilke day.
But whan that he was ybonde sore,
His wounde staunche that it bled no more,
More furious than evere he was toforn,
Repeired is, with anger al totorne
(So ay the ire on his herte fret),
That he bar doun al that evere he met,
Sleth and kylleth - he was so mercyles -
Alle tho that put hemsilf in pres
Or hardy wern with hym for to mete.
For in his boke lik as writ Darete
For verray soth and in the stori seith
(Yif it be so that men may yeve feyth
And credence of possibilité,
As in Guydo clerly ye may se),
Aftir that he caught his lattre wounde,
Finally Grekis to confounde
(So as it is affermed in certeyn),
A thousand knyghtes with his hond wer slayn,
Withoute hem tho that I spak of rath.
And newe alweye he gan his swerd to bathe
In Grekis blod, that sodeinly thei be
So overlayn thorugh his cruelté
That Greke was noon, of highe nor lowe estat,
That he ne was awhaped and amaat
Of his knyghthod and manly excellence:
For ther was non to make resistence
Nor outterly that durste take on honde
Of al that day Hector to withstonde.
And as it is made also mencioun,
Thilke day Kyng Agamenoun,
As seith Guydo, cam nat in the felde;
For causes gret his presence he withhelde
On Grekis side, that al goth upsodoun:
Hector on hem so pleyeth the lyon
That to her tentes thei fled for socours.
And thei of Troye, proudly as victours,
Sued aftir by tracis of her blood;
And ther thei wan tresour and gret good,
And spoiled hem in ful gret distresse
Of her armour and of her richesse,
And felle on hem or that thei were ware,
And home to Troye al the good thei bare.
For finally that day with meschaunce
Grekis had be brought unto outtraunce,
Withoute recure in soth for everemore;
On every parte thei were beleyn so sore
Thorugh the manhod of Hector and the myght,
With helpe of many other worthi knyght,
That so felly ageyn Grekis wrought:
For to swiche meschef pleinly thei hem brought
That nadde ben her owne pitous slouthe,
Of pride only and of foly routhe,
Thei had of hem at her volunté
That day for evere hadde the sovereynté
And recured thorugh her highe renoun
Lordschip of hem and domynacioun,
Whiche schuld have laste and be contynuel,
Victoriously and perpetuel
Have endurid; save cruel Fate
Is redy ay with Fortune to debate
Ageyn thinges that gynne in welfulnes,
To make hem fyne ay in wrechidnes
Thorugh her envious disposicioun
Of sodeyn chaunge and revolucioun
And unwar tournyng of hir false whele,
That wil nat bide whan a thing is wele -
Allas, freel, devoide of sikernesse.
The cause was dymmed with dirknesse,
That hath Troyens thorugh false oppinioun
Iblended so in her discresioun
And specially fordirked so the sight
Of worthi Hector, the prudent manly knyght,
To sen aforn what schuld after swe,
Be good avis the meschef to eschewe
That folwid hem at the bak behynde.
Allas, thei wern wilfully made blynde
The same day, whan thei wer set softe
Be victorie on the hille alofte,
That thei nat koude of necligence se
The aftirfal of her felicité,
So put abak was her advertence
For lak of resoun and of highe prudence:
For thei her hap han voided and her grace,
That presently were sette afore her face.
For in a man is nat commendable
Yif Fortune be to hym favourable
And blaundischinge with a forhede clere
To smyle on hym with a plesaunt chere,
Only of favour for to help hym oute,
Whan he in meschef is beset aboute,
Yif he refuse his hap of wilfulnes,
Fortune avoidynge thorugh unkyndnes
Whan sche mynystreth to hym of hir grace:
Another tyme he schal hir nat embrace,
Whan he hath nede to hir helpe at al,
To socour hym or he cacche a fal;
But rather than for his ingratitude
Frowardly with mowes hym delude,
Whan he best weneth stond in sikernes.
Fortune is ay so ful of brotulnes,
Remewable, and redy for to flitte
Hir welful hour that who list nat amytte
With hir favour for to ben allied,
Another tyme it schal be denyed,
Whan he wer levest finde hir favourable:
For in some hour, sothly this no fable,
Unto som man sche graunteth his desires,
That wil nat after in a thousand yeres,
Paraventure, onys condiscende
Unto his wil nor his lust hym sende,
As it hath falle this day unhappily
To worthi Hector that so wilfully
Wrought of hede Grekis for to spare,
Fatally whan thei were in the snare.
For he of hem like a conqueroure,
With victorie, triumphe, and honour
Might have brought, thorugh his highe renoun,
The palme of conquest into Troye toun,
Whiche he that day reffusid folily.
For as he rood, this Hector, cruelly
Amonge Grekis slowe and bar al doun,
Casuely he mette Thelamoun,
I mene Ajax, nyghe of his allye,
That of hate and cruel hoot envie
To Hector rood, like as he were wood,
Albe to hym that he was nyghe of blod;
Yit for al that, this yonge lusty knyght
Dide his power and his fulle myght
Withoute feynyng to have born hym doun
(Whos fader hight also Thelamoun,
That hym begat, the stori telleth thus,
Of Exioun, suster to Priamus).
And this Ajax, flourynge in yonge age,
Fresche and delyver and of gret corage,
Sette on Hector of knyghtly highe prowes;
And as thei mette, bothe in her wodnes,
On her stedis, this manly champiouns,
Everyche on other lik tigers or lyons
Began to falle, and proudly to assaille,
And furiously severe plate and maille -
First with speris, longe, large, and rounde,
And aftirwarde with swerdis kene grounde.
And fightyng thus longe thei contune,
Til it befil of cas or of fortune,
Tokne or signe, or som apparence,
Or by Naturis kyndly influence,
Whiche into hertis dothe ful depe myne,
Namly of hem that born ben of o lyne,
Which cause was, paraunter, of this tweyne,
Naturelly her rancour to restreyne,
And her ire for to modefie -
Only for thei so nyghe were of allye,
Unwist of outher and therof unsure,
Til thei wer taughte only of Nature:
For naturelly blod wil ay of kynde
Draw unto blod, wher he may it fynde,
Whiche made Hector kyndly to adverte
To be mevid and sterid in his herte,
Bothe of knyghthod and of gentilnes,
Whan he of Ajax sawe the worthines,
Spak unto hym ful benygnely
And seide: "Cosyn, I seye the trewely,
Yif thou list Grekis here forsake
And come to Troye, I dare undirtake
To thin allyes and to thi kynrede
Thou schalt be there withouten any drede
Ful wel receyved, in party and in al,
Of hem that ben of the blood royal
Sothly discendid and hyest of degré,
That it of right schal suffise unto the,
And kyndely be to the plesaunce
For to repeire to thin allyaunce -
To gentil herte sith nothing is so good
As be confederid with his owne blood;
For I conceyve be the worthines,
Whiche Nature doth in the expresse,
Of Troyan blood that thou arte descendid,
Whiche of Grekis long hath be offendid:
Wherfore I rede to leve hem outterly."
And he answered ageyn ful humblely
That, sithen he of berthe was a Greke,
And was of youthe amonge hem fostered eke
From the tyme of his nativité,
And taken had the ordre and degré
Of knyghthood eke amongis hem aforn,
And, over this, bounde was and sworn
To be trewe to her nacioun
(Makyng of blood noon excepcioun),
He swore he wold conserven his beheste;
And to Hector he made this requeste:
That yif that he of manful gentilnes
Wolde of knyghthood and of worthines
Shewe unto hym so gret affeccioun
To make hem that wer of Troye toun
Only withdrawe Grekis to pursewe,
And fro her tentis make hem to remewe,
And resorte ageyn unto the toun,
Of knyghtly routhe and compassioun,
Withoute assailyng or any more affray
Made on Grekis for that ilke day,
Sith unto hem ought inowgh suffice
That of the felde, in so knyghtly wyse,
Thei were of manhood fully possessours
And of her fomen finally victours,
Lyk as toforn fully is diffinyd.
To whos requeste Hector is enclyned
(Allas the while) of hasty wilfulnes
And made anoon withoute avysenes
Mid the felde a trompet for to blowe,
Wherby Troyens fully myghte knowe
That be his wil thei schulde hem withdraw
Aftir the custom, pleynly, and the lawe,
And the usaunce, bothe nygh and ferre,
Amongis hem that ben expert in werre,
Whan thei were moste fervent for to fight,
Upon Grekis for to preve her myght,
And had hem chacid lowe to the stronde,
That thei wer weyke of power to withstonde:
For thei of Troye, alle of o desire,
Gan settyn on with schot of wylde fire
To brenne hir schippis and of highe meschaunce
Finally to putte hem at outtraunce.
And so thei had, this the verray trouthe,
Nadde Hector had uppon hem routh,
Makynge Troyens repeire to the toun
Ungraciously, to her confusioun,
As the story schal aftir specefie.
For tho he putte, allas, in juparté
Life and deth, whiche myght have be sure,
The whiche ageyn thei nevere schal recure.
Thei han mater to compleyne sore:
For fro that day, farewel for everemore
Victorie and laude fro hem of the toun,
To hem denyed by disposicioun
Of mortal fate, whiche was contrarie -
In this mater me liste no lenger tarie.
For thei of Troye ben entrid her cyté
And schet her gatis for more sureté;
For of that day, lyk as made in mynde,
This was the ende, in Guydo as I fynde -
Thei wende have do paraunter for the beste.
[The Trojans are prepared to renew battle the next day, but
the Greeks ask for an eight days' truce, during which they bury
their dead and Achilles constructs a tomb for Patroclus and
for Protesilaus. The Trojans tend to their wounded, while
Priam mourns for his natural son Cassibellan, whom he
buries in a rich tomb in the temple of Venus. During the
funeral rite, Cassandra prophesies the fall of Troy (lines 2158-
2237).]
In whiche thing, whan that Cassandra
Withinne hirsilfe considered and beheld
And saw up offrid his helm and his sheld,
His swerd also, and unto Mars his stede,
Of inward wo sche felt hir herte blede,
Herynge the noise and the pitous crye,
The tendre weping and sorwynge outterly
Of hem of Troye, and the lamentacioun
Whiche for her frendis, thorughoute al the toun,
Thei gan to make, that wer slawe afore.
With sodeyn rage her herte was totore,
So inwardly sche myght hir nat restreyne
Furiously to cryen and compleine,
And seide, "Allas" ful ofte and "Wellawey":
"O woful wrecchis that ye be this day,
Unhappy eke and graceles also,
Infortunat and inly wobego!
How may ye suffre the grete harmys kene
Whiche ye ar likly herafter to sustene
Durynge the sege in this toun beloke,
Seynge your foon, redy to be wroke,
Aboute you, beset on every side,
To be vengid on youre grete pride?
I wot right wel ye may hem nat eschewe,
That thei ne schal unto the deth pursewe
You everychon, besegid in this place,
Withoute mercy, pité, or any grace.
Allas, allas, whi nil ye besy be,
Ye woful wrechis schet in this cité,
With the Grekis for to seken pes,
Or the swerd of vengance merciles
On highe and lowe do execucioun?
And or this noble, worthi, royal toun
Eversid be and ybrought to nought,
Why list ye nat consideren in your thought
How the modres with her childre smale
In stretis schal, with face ded and pale,
Lyn mordred here thorugh Grekis cruelté
And yonge maydenes in captivité
Bewepen schal in myserie and in wo
Her servytude; and this toun also,
So famous ryche - allas, it is pité -
With Grekis fire schal distroied be
In schort tyme, sothly this no were.
Eleyne of us, allas, is bought to dere,
Sith for hir sake we schul everychon,
Pore and riche, I excepte noon,
An ende make woful and pitous:
The ire of hem schal be so furious
Upon us alle, ther is noon other mene
Sauf only deth us to go betwene."
This was the noise and the pitous cry
Of Cassandra that so dredfully
Sche gan to make aboute in every strete
Thorugh the toun, whomever sche myght mete,
Lyk as sche had ben oute of hir mynde,
Til Priamus faste made hir bynde
And schettyn up - it was the more roughth;
Sche was nat herde, albe sche seide troughth:
For nouther wisdam nor discrecioun,
Counseil nor wit, prudence nor resoun,
Trouth nor rede - withouten any lye -
Nor the spirite of trewe proficye,
Availeth nat nor al swiche sapience
In place wher ther is noon audience.
For be a man inly nevere so wys
In counseillynge or in hyghe devys,
In werkynge outher in elloquence,
Eche thing to sen in his advertence
Or it be falle, aforn in his resoun,
Amyd the eye of his discreccioun,
Yet for al this (it is the more dool),
Withoute favour he holde is but a fool:
For unfavored, wysdam availeth nought
Nouther trouth, how dere that it be bought,
Liche as Cassandra for al hir wyse rede
Dispised was, and taken of noon hede
Of hem of Troye, to her confusioun,
But cruelly ythrowen in prisoun,
Where a whyle I wele leve hir dwelle
And of Grekis furth I wil you telle.
[In the Greek camp, King Palamedes complains about the
selection of Agamemnon as their leader, but others intervene
to mollify him for the moment. When battle resumes, Achilles
and Hector fight one another, and then in succession Diomede
and Troilus, and Menelaus and Paris confront each other.
When Prothenor, Achilles's cousin, tries to attack Hector from
behind, Hector cuts him in two. Hungry for vengeance,
Achilles tries to rally the Greeks for an attack on Hector, but
Hector and the Trojans drive the Greeks from the field and
return to Troy in glory. The Greek chieftains meet to consider
what they should do about Hector (lines 2319-2666).]
Whan Esperus, the faire brighte sterre,
Ageynes eve caste his stremys ferre
And in the weste rathest gan appere,
Whan the twylyght with a pale chere,
In maner morneth the absence of the sonne
And nyght aprocheth with his copis donne,
The same tyme whan Titan toke his leve
That clerkis calle crepusculum at eve -
Whiche is nat ellis but the mene light
Of Phebus absence and the dirke nyght,
And twylight hatte (for it is a mene
Of day and nyght, departinge hem betwene,
Fully nouther but of bothe meynt,
Or the hevene be clustryd and depeynt
With brighte sterris in the evenynge) -
At whiche tyme Agamenoun the Kyng
For his lordis sodeinly hath sent
To come anon echon into his tent.
And whan thei wern assemblid alle yfere,
Triste and hevy with a sorful chere,
Thei gan the slaughter of Hector to compleine,
Affermynge playnly thei myght never ateyne
Unto victorie while he were on lyve:
Wherefore thei gan to conspire blive
The deth of hym in many sondry woye
Echon concludynge, while he wer in Troy,
It was nat likly Grekis for to wynne;
For he alone of hem that were withinne
Was chef diffence and protectioun,
And sovereynly upholder of the toun,
Her myghty castel and her stronge wal,
And unto Grekis dedly fo mortal:
For thei ne myght his grete force endure
Nor never aright ageyn her foos be sure,
He stondyng hool (thei seide) in no degré
Nor whil he floureth in felicité.
Wherfor, echon of oon entencioun,
Thei condiscende to this conclusioun:
That be som sleight of await lying,
Whan he were most besy in fightynge
Amongis hem in meschef or distresse,
That Achilles do his besynes
With al his myght unwarly him to assaille,
That hym to slen for no thing that he faille.
And Grekis alle gan her prayer make
To Achilles for to undirtake
Of this emprise fynally the swt,
Thorugh his manhod that it be execut -
The hasty deth of her mortal foo.
And Achilles withoute wordis moo
Her requeste assenteth to parforme
And to her lust gan holly hym conforme.
Fro that tyme late hym be war, I rede,
To be to hasty this journé for to spede,
Upon Hector his power for to kythe,
List Fortune awronge hir face writhe,
To loke on hym with a froward chere,
Hym to bringe unto the hondis nere
Thorugh sort or hap, of Hector, folily
To put his lif of deth in juparty,
List unto hym it happe evene lyche
To falle hymsilfe in the same dyche
That he for Hector compassid hath and shape:
For it is wonder yif that he eskape,
Sith Hector hadde withouten any drede
As brennyng ire and as grete hatrede
To Achilles his deth for to purvey,
Yif he hym founde or in place sey
Convenient for execucioun.
I trow ther schuld hym gayne no raunsoun,
Nor other mede his herte to quyete,
But only deth, whan so that thei mete:
This the ende and fyn of this mater,
As in this boke after ye schal here.
And thus Grekis maked han an ende
Of her counseil, and anoon thei wende,
Everyche of hem, hom to her loggynge,
And toke her reste til the morwenynge.
[Hector leads the Trojans out, eager to finish the fight. In the
individual confrontations, Hector battles Agamemnon and
Achilles, Diomede and Aeneas resume their hatred, and
Menelaus wounds Paris. When Thoas and Achilles fight later
in the day, Hector is wounded but is able to cut off half of
Thoas's nose. Thoas is captured and carried off to Troy. Paris
shoots Menelaus with a poison arrow. After the surgeons care
for his wound, Menelaus returns to battle and finds Paris
unarmed. Aeneas intervenes and sends Paris back to Troy as
the Trojans force the Greeks back to their camp before
retiring. On the next morning, Priam calls his counselors to
him (lines 2745-3102).]
Til on the morwe that the rowes rede
Of Phebus carte gonne for to sprede
Aforn his upriste in the orient,
At whiche tyme Kyng Priamus hathe sent
For swiche as werne with him moste prevé
And of his counseille inwardly secré;
And specialy he sente for be name
For worthi Hector, that grettest was of fame,
For Paris eke, and for Dephebus,
And for Troylus, freshe and desirous,
For Anthenor, and for Pollydamas,
And for the Troyan called Eneas:
For he that day cast him nat to goon
Into the felde to mete with his foon.
And whan thei wern to his paleis come,
The lordis han the righte weye nome
Unto the kyng withinne his closet;
And whan the hussher hath the dore shet,
And everyche hadde liche to his degré
His place take and his dewe see,
This worthi kyng, as made is mencioun,
Gan to declare his hertis mocioun,
And his menynge aforn hem specifie,
And seide: "Sirs, in whom I moste affie,
To yow is knowe how Kyng Thoas is here
In this cité taken prisoner,
And is as yet beloken in prisoun
Whiche evere hath be unto Troye toun
An enmy gret, unto his power,
And us offendid bothe fer and nere
In many wyse (albe we litel reche)
As fer as he his force myghte streche;
And now with Grekis cam to sege our toun,
As he that wilneth oure distruccioun,
And thereuppon hath done his besynes:
Wherfore, of doom and of rightwysnes,
Bothe of resoun and of equyté,
I seie pleynly, as semeth unto me,
So that it be to yow acceptable
And that ye think my counseil comendable,
Liche as he hath caste oure deth and shape,
I holde rightful that he nat eskape
But that of deth he resseyve his guerdoun.
For right requereth and also good resoun,
That deth for deth is skilful guerdonynge,
Unto my wit, and right wel sittynge:
Seth your avis pleinly in this cas."
And first of alle tho spake Eneas
And seide: "Lord, so it be noon offence
To youre highnes to yeve me audience,
Thorugh supporte here of hem that be ful wys,
I shal reherse pleynly my devys,
What is to werken as in this matere:
Me semeth first, my lege lorde so dere,
That youre noble, royal excellence
Consydre shulde, with ful highe prudence,
In every werke and operacioun
To caste aforn, in conclusioun,
The final ende that may after swe;
For to a wysman only is nat dewe
To se the gynnynge and the endynge noght,
But bothe attonis peisen in his thought
And weien hem so justly in balaunce
That of the fyn folwe no repentaunce.
Whi I seie this and platly whi I mene
Is for that ye oughten for to sene
How Kyng Thoas is oon the principal
Amonge Grekis and of the blood royal,
Yif ye considre descendid as be lyn;
Wherfore, yif he have thus foule a fyn
To be slawe while he is in presoun,
It myght happen, in conclusioun,
That ye and yours that therto assente
Hereafterwarde sore to repente.
I preve it thus: that yif by aventure
Or fortune, that no man may assure,
Some of youre lordis were another day
Of Grekis take, as it happe may,
Or of youre sonys, so worthi of renoun,
Or of kynges that ben in this toun,
Trusteth me wel that swiche gentilnes
As ye schew to hem in her distres
Thei wil you quyte, whan in cas semblable
Fortune to hem thei finde faverable,
The whiche no man constreyne may nor binde.
Wherfore, my lorde, have this thing in mynde:
For yif Thoas, of short avisement,
Shal nowe be ded thorugh hasty jugement,
Another day Grekis wil us quyte,
And of rigour make her malis byte
On some of youris, whoevere that it be,
And nouther spare highe nor lowe degré,
Though he were paraunter of youre blood;
The whiche thing, for al this worldis good
It myghte falle that ye nolde se.
Wherfore I rede, lete Kyng Thoas be
Honestly keped in prisoun
Lyche his estate stille here in this toun,
List, as I seide, that another day
Somme lorde of youris, as it happe may,
Casuelly were take of aventure:
Be eschaunge of hym ye myghte best recure
Withoute strif youre owne man ageyn.
In this mater I can no more seyn,
But finally this is my fulle rede."
To whiche counseil Hector toke good hede,
And for it was accordynge to resoun,
He hit commendith in his oppinoun.
But Priam, evere of oo entencioun,
Stode alweie fix to this conclusioun,
Pleinly affermynge: "Yif Grekis may espie
That we this kyng spare of genterye,
Thei wil arrette it cowardyse anoon,
That we dar nat venge us of oure foon
For verray drede, havyng noon hardines
Nor herte nouther to do rightwisnes;
Yet, nevertheles, after youre assent
That he shal leve, I wele in myn entent
To youre desire fully condescende."
And of this counseil so thei made an ende
Withoute more, save Eneas is go
And Troylus eke and Anthenor also
Into an halle, excellynge of bewté,
The Quene Eleyne of purpos for to se,
With whom was eke Eccuba the Quene,
And other ladyes goodly on to sene,
And many mayde that yonge and lusti was.
And worthi Troilus with this Eneas
Dide her labour and her besy peyne
For to counforte the faire Quene Eleyne,
As sche that stood for the werre in drede;
But for all that, of verray wommanhede
Thilke tyme with al hir herte entere,
As she wel koude, maked hem good chere,
Havynge of konnynge inly suffisaunce
Bothe of chere and of dalyaunce.
And Eccuba, beyng in this halle
Verray exaumple unto wommen alle,
Of bounté havynge sovereyn excellence,
In wisdam eke, and in elloquence,
Besoughte hem tho wonder wommanly
And counsaillede eke ful prudently,
For any haste, bothe nyghe and ferre,
Avisely to kepe hem in the werre,
And nat juparte her bodies folily,
But to adverte and caste prudently
In diffence knyghtly of the toun,
Hem to governe by discrecioun:
She spake of feith and koude no thinge feyne.
And thanne of hir and after of Eleyne
Thei toke leve and no lenger dwelle
But went her wey.
[The Greeks mourn their losses, and during the night a high
wind blows down the tents in their camp. But the damage is
repaired by dawn, and Achilles leads their forces into the
field, where he kills the giant Hupon. The centaur
Epistrophus, a skilled archer, slays many Greeks, but he is
killed by Diomede. During the fighting Achilles and Hector
meet again and Antenor is captured by the Greeks. In the next
day's battle, the Trojans suffer many losses and must retire to
the city. In the morning, the Greeks send Ulysses and Diomede
to Priam to ask for a three months' truce, which everyone in
Priam's council, except Hector, endorses. During the truce, it
is ag |