Lines 886–1317

And Awdegone hur cowncelde soo
Oon of thes lordys for to too,
Syr Mylys or syr Emere ;
"And let hym wedde yow wyth a rynge ;
Ther fadur was a ryche kynge,
Knowyn both farre and nere."
Ye, but now ys syr Emere tane,
And Garcys men have hym slayne,
Seyde that maydyn clere.
" Ye behove to have a nodur.
Take Mylys, that ys hys eldyst brodur,
Hyt ys my cowncell wythowten were."

To syr Mylys Awdegon went.
And askyd yf he wolde assent
To wedde that maydyn free,
That ys whyte as lylly-flowre.
And be lorde and emperowre,
The grettyst yn Crystyante.
" But god forbede, and seynt Myghell,
That thou undurtake hyt but thou do well,
And trewe man thynke to bee."
To hys speche answeryd he noght,
But stylle he stode and hym be thoght,
And seyde, Y schall avyse me.

Avyse the, seyde that maydyn feyre,
For to be my fadurs heyre ?
Lyghtly may y thynke.
Be hym that suffurde woundys fyve,
I schall nevyr be thy wyfe,
To suffur dethys dynte.
Kyngys and dewkys have me askyd,
Their londes wolde have geve me at the laste,
And many a ryall thynke.
Forthe he yede wyth syghyng and care,
That he had gevyn that fowle answare,
For sorowe nere wolde he synke,

Thys whyle had Synagot takyn Emere,
And broght hym before syr Garcy in fere,
And seyde, We have tane a knyght
Agenste yow fyghtyng in the stowre,
We refte hym hors and armowre,
But he ys an hardy wyght.
Felowe, he seyde, what dyd thou there ?
" Syr, wyth my lorde on the to were,
That now to dedd ys dyght ;
As sowdears, my brodur and y.
We have noght ellys to leve by,
Owre fadur fordyd owre ryght.

Syr Phelyp of Hungary owre fadur was,
Now ys he dedd, therefore alas !
Owre modur weddyd ys newe,
In to Surry to syr Justamownde,
That ys abowte us to confownde,
And owre bytter bales to brewe.
He hath dysheryted us, wythowt lees,
That we had levyr warre nor pees,
Per chawnce that may hym rewe."
Syr Synagot cowncelde syr Garcy soo,
Syr, delyver hym qwyte, and let hym goo,
He semyth covenawnt and trewe.

Than answered syr Garcy,
When y toke trewage of Turky
Thy fadur in stede stode me,
Therfore y schal let the goo,
And geve hym all ye toke hym fro.
Emere knelyd on hys knee :
" Syr, when y come into the towne,
I and my men must be bowne
To greve both thyn and thee."
Ye, godys forbode that thou spare,
But of thy warste wylle ever mare :
Garcy, thus sayde he.

" What wenyst thou wyth thy bragg and boost
For to dystroye me and myn hoost ?
He toke his leve and yede ;
Syr Synagot gave hym all togedur,
Be the lefte thonge that he bare thedur,
Emere lepe on his stede.
He ledd hym thorow the pavylons all,
Till he came nere to Romes walle,
And paste the moost drede.
Than they wythynne were full fayne,
That they had getyn the gome a gayne,
Ther blysse be ganne to brede ;

And agayne syr Emere they went,
And broght hym before that lady gente,
And askyd yf he wolde
Wedde the best of hur elde,
And all hur londys for to welde,
Agayne Garcy to holde ;
And helpe to venge hur fadurs dedd.
He dud ryght as the lady bedd,
That hardy was and bolde.
He seyde, Prevely muste me do,
Tyll the baronage be sworne us to,
Bothe the yonge and the olde.

Syr Sampson, and syr Egravayne,
Syr Clamadore, and syr Alayne,
Wyste of that bargen newe.
They went aftur syr Geffrey of Pyse,
And syr Barnard of Mownt-devyse,
Tho syxe were gode and trewe ;
They made them to swere they schulde be lele,
And syr Emers counsell heyle,
And Florence feyre of hewe :
Thus he tylleth them be fowre and fyve,
All they had sworne to hym be lyve,
Then Mylys hymselfe can rewe.

The pope came, as ye may here,
For to crowne syr Emere,
And [wedd] them wyth a rynge,
Sche seyde, Now are ye emperowre of Rome,
The grettyst Lorde in Crystendome,
And hedd of every kynge ;
Yyt schall ye never in bedde me by,
Tyl ye have broght me syr Garcy,
For no maner of thynge ;
Or lefte hym in the felde for dedd,
Be hym y sawe in forme of bredd,
When the preest can synge,

Emere the emperowre can say,
I shall do all that I may,
But charge me wyth no mare,
Then they wysche, and to mete be gone :
" Of mynstralcy we kepe none,
We have no space to spare ;
Nodur harpe, sedyll, nor geest,
But ordeygn yow wyth moost and leest,
That wyth me wyll fare ;
And brynge my stede Bondynere,
And feche me forthe bothe schylde and spere :"
Full tyte then were they thare.

Than was there no lenger bode,
But up they lepe and forthe they rode,
To preke after ther praye,
When worde came to syr Garcy,
A sory man was he forthy,
That weddyd was that may,
That was whyte as lylly-flowre,
And syr Emere crowned emperowre,
Alas ? then can he say,
That ever y let that traytur goo,
When he was in my bandoune soo,
Me dawyd a drery day !

Ther was lefte no man in that town
To kepe the lady of renowne,
That was of temporalte,
That myght wyth ony wepon wyrke,
Owt-takyn men of holy kyrke,
At home they let them bee.
They beganne at the nerre syde,
And slewe downe all that wolde abyde,
Trewly trowe ye me ;
On felde they faght as they were wode,
Ovyr the bentys ranne the blode,
All tho dyed that wolde not flee.

Then on the felde they freschely faght,
Many oon ther dethe there caght,
That came on Garcyes syde.
Syr Garcy toke hym to the fyght,
Wyth an hundurd in harnes bryght,
He durste no lenger byde
Of all the men he thedur broght,
Many on lyve levyd he noght,
To schypp went they that tyde ;
They set up sayle and forthe are gone,
To Constantyne the nobull towne,
Al so faste as they myght glyde.

Al so soone as syr Emere wyste
Wel nere for sorowe hys herte breste,
That he in schyppe can lende,
He bad syr Mylys turne agayne,
Syr Sampson and syr Egravayne,
" For y wyll aftur wende :
Take an hundurd men of armes bryght,
And kepe my lady day and nyght,
That ye curtes and hende ;
Say to hur y am on the see,
Chasyng after myn old enmye,
That slewe hur derrest freende."

Syr Mylys seyde to thes hundurd all,
Thys herytage to me wyll falle,
My brodur comyth never a gayne.
I wylle wedde the yonge bryde,
He slepyd nevyr be hur syde.
Nor hath hur not by layne.
All that wyll assent to me
Grete lordys schall they bee :
To graunt hym they were fayne.
Sampson seyde, That wyll y never doo,
Falsehedd my lorde unto ;
The same seyde Egravayne.

All they assentyd but they two,
The todur parte was the moo,
And that was there well seen.
Soche wordys among them can falle,
They preysed abowte syr Sampson all,
And slewe hym in that tene.
They made syr Egraveyne to swere soon.
Or they wolde wyth hym the same have done.
To wote wythowten wene ;
Sone a bere have they ordeygned.
And the dedd corse theon leyde.
The sorte was false and kene ;

And sethyn to Rome they hym broght.
And told Florence worthyly wroght,
That Emere laye there dedd ;
When that sche had swowned twyes.
And thereaftur syghed thryes,
Sche wepyd in that stedd.
Mylys seyde, My lady fre,
Thy cowncell wyll that y wedd the,
Hyt was my brodurs redd.
Sche seyde, Y wyll weddyd bee
To a lorde that never schall dye,
That preestys schewe in forme of bredd.

Furste then was my fadur slayne,
And now my lorde ys fro me tane,
Y wyll love no ma,
But hym that boght me on the rode,
Wyth hys swete precyus blode.
To hym I wyll me ta.
Then Mylys made seven armed knyghtes
To kepe the pales day and nyghtes,
She myght not come them fra,
And also swythe syr Egravayne,
Went to the pope, that sothe to sayne,
To telle he was full thra,

How that Emere was ovyr the see,
Chasing Garcy to hys cuntre,
And Mylys wolde have hys wyfe,
He had a hundurd to hys assent,
And hyght them londys, lythys, and rente ;
But Sampson hath loste hys lyfe,
And broght hym home upon a bere,
And tolde Florence hyt was Emere,
All Rome he hath made ryse
And certys y am sworne them too :
Holy fadur, what schall y do,
That turned were all thys stryfe ?

Then the pope was not lothe
To assoyle hym of hys othe,
For hyt to falsehed can clyne :
"Syr, y schall telle the a sekyr tale,
Hyt ys bettur brokyn then hale,
I set my sowle for thyne."
Than he gart arme of the spyrytualte,
And of the seculors hundurdys thre,
Or evyr wolde he blynne ;
To the pales he made them to brynge.
For to dystroye that false weddyng,
The matrymony was not fyne,

All that they wyth false Mylys fonde
They bonde them bothe fote and honde.
But they wolde flee not ane ;
Mylys set hys backe to a pyllere,
And seyde all schulde dye that came hym nere ;
But smartely was he tane,
And put in an hye towre,
Be the reverence of the emperowre,
That was made of lyme and stane ;
And twenty of thes odur ay in a pytt,
In strokkes and feturs for to sytt,
Or evyr pope Symonde blanne.

Than the pope and Egravayne
To telle the lady were full fayne
Hur lord was on the see,
To Constantyne the nobull strekk ;
All the lasse can sche recke,
Tho all bryghtenyd hur blee.
They went to the bere wythowten wone,
And caste up the clothe and sye Sampson,
That semely was to see ;
They dud wyth hym as wyth the dedd,
They beryed hym in a ryall stedd,
Wyth grete solempnyte.

All thys whyle was syr Emere
Chasyng Garcy, as ye schall here,
As the romans tolde ;
But Garcy had getyn hys pales before,
And vetayly hyt wyth warme store,
Hys wylys were full olde.
Syr Emere set hys sege therto.
Full doghtely there can he doo,
That hardy was and bolde,
Wyth men of armes all abowte,
That he myght on no syde owte.
But hamperde hym in hys holde :

And thus they segyd Garcy wyth strenkyth,
In hys palys large of lenkyth,
The Romaynce had ther wylle
Of Costantyne the noble cyte
In ther poscescon for to bee,
That many oon lykyd ylle,
Syr Emere comawndyd every man
To brooke wele the tresur that they wan,
So myght they ther cofurs fylle.
When syr Garcy sawe all yede to schame,
He callyd to Emere be hys name,
Downe at a wyndowe stylle :

Syr, he seyde, al so mote y the,
Thou holdyst full wele that thou hyghtyst me,
When y let the goo,
Ayeyn to Rome as men may lythe,
Had y wetyn what schulde be sythe,
Thou schuldyst not have skapyd soo ;
But syn y qwyte-claymed the thore,
Yyt muste thou be of mercy more,
Thou graunt that hyt be soo.
Nine thowsand pownde y schall geve the
To wende home to thy cuntre,
And wyrke me no more woo.

" Nay, be hym that lorde ys beste,
Tyll y have thys londe conqueste,
And efte be crowned newe ;
And yf my men wyll so als,
For y trowe ther be noon fals,
And yf ther be themselfe schall rewe."
Synagot seyde, Be godys wayes,
He wyll holde that he says,
He ys hardy and trewe :
I rede we do us in hys wylle.
And yylde thys empyre hym tylle,
Or he us more bale brewe.

Ther ys not, undurstonde,
An hundurd knyghtys in thy londe
Moo then thou haste here,
Slewe he them not up at Rome ?
In evyll tyme we thedur come,
Or that thy lore can lere.
When that thou went Florence to wowe,
Ovyr the stremes thou madyste us to rowe,
And boght thy pride full dere
Many a chylde left thou thore
Fadurles for evyrmore,
And wedows in cuntreys sere.

There they openyd ther yatys wyde,
Syr Garcy came down that tyde,
Wyth a drawyn swyrde in hys hande,
And wyth a keye of golde clere,
And yeldyd unto syr Emere,
Hyt sygnyfyed all the lande.
They ledd yn hys baner wyth honowre,
And sett hyt on the hyest towre,
That they [in] castell fande ;
And soone upon that odur day,
They crowned hym emperowre, y saye,
Ther durste no man agenste hym stande,

Then he gaye londys to knyghtys kydde,
And newe men in offyce dydd,
The land to stabull and stere :
He seyde unto syr Garcye,
Syr, ye muste wende home wyth me,
Yf that yowre wylle were,
For to see Rome wythynne,
That ye wende some tyme to wynne,
And Florence, that ys to me dere ;
Hyt schall turne yow to no grefe.
Whether he were lothe or lefe,
Forthe they wente in fere.

Soche a nave as ther was oon
Was never seen but that allone,
When hyt was on the see ;
Then Emere thoght on Mylys hys brodur,
And on Florence feyreste of odur,
At them then wolde he bee.
He seyde unto syr Garcy,
And to odur lordys that stode hym by,
To Hungary soone wyll wee,
Justamownde for to forfare.
And crowne Mylys my brodur thare,
For kyndyst heyre ys hee.

A messengere to londe wanne,
That some tyme rode, and some tyme ranne,
Tyll he came Rome wythynne ;
He tolde Florence, bryght of hewe,
How hys lorde was crownyd newe,
And the empyre can wynne ;
And wyth hym bryngyth olde Garcy,
The lady fayne was sche for thy,
Sche was comyn of gentyll kynne.
Sche gafe hym, for hys newe tythandys,
Worthe a barony of landys,
Or evyr wolde sche blynne,

Lorde, that ys bothe god and man,
Gyf the emperowre had wetyn than
The treson of hys brodur.
That he dud in hys absence ;
To Sampson and to feyre Florence,
And Egravayne the todur !
The lady went up to a towre.
Be reverence of the emperowre,
And wyth hur many odur,
And toke hym downe that cursyd thefe,
That afturward dud hur grete grefe,
Ther was nevyr no sawe sotheyr.

The lady preyed syr Egravayne,
And odur lordys, that they wolde layne
The treson of the knyght.
And all that he hath done to me,
All forgevyn schall hyt bee,
For godys love moste of myght.
She set him on a gode palfray,
And bade hym wende upon hys way,
Agenste hys brodur ryght.
When that he came to the see,
A false lesynge there made hee
Of Florence feyre and bryght,

Syr Egravayne sadylde his stede,
And hyed hym after a gode spede,
He hopyd that he wolde lye ;
When Mylys sawe the emperowre,
He felle downe in a depe fowre,
Fro hys hors so hye,
Emere, seyde Mylys, what eylyth the ?
" Syr, thus thy wyfe hath dyght me,
For y seyde y schulde hur bewrye.
When y fonde Egravayne lygyng hur by,
In preson yut sche me forthy,
And sorowe hath made me to drye."

The emperowre smote down wyth hys hevydd,
All hys yoye was fro hym revydd
Of Florence that he hadd,
All the lykyng of hys longe travayle
Was away wythowten fayle,
In sorowe was he stadde.
All the lordys that were hym by,
Recowmforde hym full kyndely,
And bad hym not be adradd
Tyll we the sothe have enqueryd,
Bothe of lewde and of lernydd ;
Thes wordys yyt made hym gladd.