Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose

English literature -- Middle English, 1100-1500; Great Britain -- History -- 14th century -- Sources
As a gret ost bi him te                            290
      Wele atourned ten hundred kniȝtes,
      Ich y-armed to his riȝtes,
      Of cuntenaunce stout and fers,
      Wiþ mani desplaid baners,
      And ich his swerd ydrawe hold,                     295
      Ac neuer he nist whider þai wold.
      And oþer while he seiȝe oþer þing:
      Kniȝtes and leuedis com daunceing
      In queynt atire, gisely,
      Queynt pas and softly;                             300
      Tabours and trunpes ȝede hem bi,
      And al maner menstraci.
        And on a day he seiȝe him biside
      Sexti leuedis on hors ride,
      Gentil and iolif as brid on ris,—                  305
      Nouȝt o man amonges hem þer nis.
      And ich a faucoun on hond bere,
      And riden on haukin bi o riuere.
      Of game þai founde wel gode haunt,
      Maulardes, hayroun, and cormeraunt;                310
      Þe foules of þe water ariseþ,
      Þe faucouns hem wele deuiseþ;
      Ich faucoun his pray slouȝ.
      Þat seiȝe Orfeo, and louȝ:
      'Parfay!' quaþ he, 'þer is fair game,              315
      Þider ichil, bi Godes name!
      Ich was ywon swiche werk to se.'
      He aros, and þider gan te.
      To a leuedi he was ycome,
      Biheld, and haþ wele vndernome,                    320
      And seþ bi al þing þat it is
      His owhen quen, Dam Heurodis.
      Ȝern he biheld hir, and sche him eke,
      Ac noiþer to oþer a word no speke.
      For messais þat sche on him seiȝe,                 325
      Þat had ben so riche and so heiȝe,
      Þe teres fel out of her eiȝe.
      Þe oþer leuedis þis yseiȝe,
      And maked hir oway to ride,
      Sche most wiþ him no lenger abide.                 330
        'Allas!' quaþ he, 'now me is wo.
      Whi nil deþ now me slo?
      Allas! wr_e_che, þat y no miȝt
      Dye now after þis siȝt!
      Allas! to long last mi liif,                       335
      When y no dar nouȝt wiþ mi wiif,
      No hye to me, o word speke.
      Allas! whi nil min hert breke?
      Parfay!' quaþ he, 'tide wat bitide,
      Whider so þis leuedis ride,                        340
      Þe selue way ichil streche;
      Of liif no deþ me no reche.'
        His sclauain he dede on also spac,
      And henge his harp opon his bac,
      And had wel gode wil to gon,—                      345
      He no spard noiþer stub no ston.
      In at a roche þe leuedis rideþ,
      And he after, and nouȝt abideþ.
        When he was in þe roche ygo
      Wele þre mile oþer mo,                             350
      He com into a fair cuntray,
      As briȝt so sonne on somers day,
      Smoþe and plain and al grene,
      Hille no dale nas þer non ysene.
      Amidde þe lond a castel he siȝe,                   355
      Riche and real, and wonder heiȝe.
      Al þe vtmast wal
      Was clere and schine as cristal;
      An hundred tours þer were about,
      Degiselich, and bataild stout;                     360
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose

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