Stanzas XXI–XL

Untille a galaye thus gane thay wynne,
There the sowdane of those Sarazenes was inne,
That fulle richely was wroghte ;
Thay askede hym some lyves fode
For His lufe that dyede on the rode,
And made this worlde of noghte !
The Sarazens said he was a spye,
Whenne that thay herde hym swa gates crye,
That thaire schippes had soghte ;
The sowdane bade do hym awaye,
" For thay lefe nott on owre laye,
Loke that ȝe gyffe hym noghte !"

A knyghte saide to the sowdane kynge,
" Now certis, syr, it es a wondir thynge
ȝone pore mane for to see ;
For he es bothe lange and heghe,
The faireste mane that ever I seghe,
A knyghte hym semes to bee.
His wyfe es whitte as walles bone,
Hir lyre es als the see fome,
And bryghte als any blee."
The sowdane than gret rewthe thoghte,
And command that thay solde be broghte,
He wolde hymselfe thame see.

Whenne he hir sawe, hym rewed sare,
So semly als thay bothe ware,
If thay were robed riche.
The sowdane byddes hym gold and fee,
" If thou wille duelle and be with me,
And helpe me to my fyghte ;
If thou be doghty mane of dede,
Thou salle be horssede on a stede,
My-selfe salle dube the knyghte !"

Fulle stille thane stode syr Ysambrace,
A Sarazene he sawe wele that he was,
And sone he sayde hym naye:
" Certis, that salle I never mare
Agayne Crystyndomme fyghte no fare,
And lefe appone thi laye.
Now in this foreste hafe we gane,
Mete ne drynke we myghte gete nane,
This es the sevent daye ;
I aske ȝow some lyves fode
For His lufe that dyed on rode,
And late us wende oure waye."

The sowdane sawe that lady thare,
Hym thoghte als scho an angelle ware,
That ware commene owte of hevene.
He saide, " Wille thou selle thi wyffe to me ?
And I wille gyff the golde and fee,
ȝaa more than thou kane nevene :
I salle the gyffe tene thowsand pownde
Of florence that bene rede and rownde,
And gud robes sevene ;
And scho salle be lady of alle my lande,
And alle salle bowe hir to fote and hande,
And noghte withstande hir stevene."

Sir Ysambrace sayd thane schortly, " Naye,
My wyfe wille I nott selle awaye,
Bot mene me for hir slaa ;
I wedded hir in Goddes laye,
To halde hir to myne endyng daye,
ȝaa bothe in wele and waa."
The gold thane on his mantille thay talde,
And tille hyme-selfene thay gane it falde,
His wyefe thay tuke hym fraa ;
And appone the lande thay hym kaste,
And bett hym tille his rybbis braste,
And made his flesche fulle blaa !

The littille childe one lande was sett,
And sawe how mene his fadir bett,
He wepid and was fulle waa.
The lady grete and gafe hir ille,
Unnethes thay myght halde hir stille,
That ne scho hir-selve walde slaa.
Hir armes scho sprede and lowde gane crye,
And ofte scho cryed one oure lady,
" Salle we departe in two ?
Alias ! for salle I never blythe be,
My weddede lorde salle I never see,
Now wakyns alle my woo !"

Whenne the wounded knyght myght up-stande,
He tok his childe by the hande,
Wepande awaye went hee.
A riche schippe was dighte righte ȝare,
The sowdane bad that lordes solde fare
With that lady so free ;
The sowdane with his ownne honde
Crownned hir qwene of alle his londe,
And sent hir to his conntre :
A chartir was mad fulle wele farande,
The sowdane selide it with his hande,
That thofe he never come in his lande,
That scho solde qwene bee.

When the lady in schippe was ȝare.
Ever scho weped fulle selly sare,
And knelis byfore the kynge.
" Sir kynge," scho sayde, " I pray the
A bowne that thou wille graunt to me,
Now at oure parttynge ;
Mete and drynke thou gare tham gyfe,
A sevenyghte that thay myght with lyfe,
That littille childe and he."
The sowdane grauntes, scho was fulle fayne ;
[Scho callyd hir lorde to hir agayne]
A rynge was thaire takynnyng.

The lady was curtayse and mylde,
Scho blyssede hir lorde and hir childe,
And felle downe one hir knee.
Thay drewe up sayle of ryche hewe,
The wynde thame sonne owte of havene blewe
With that lady so free.
The wonded knyghte hym downe sett,
And for his wyfe fulle sare he grett,
Whils he thaire schipe myghte see.
And whenne the knyght myghte upstande,
He toke his childe by the hande,
And awaye thane faste went hee.

Sythene sett he hym downe undir a tree,
Unnethes myghte he with ehgne see,
So had he wepede sare !
Mete and drynke forthe he droghe,
He gafe his childe at ete y-noghe,
His hert thane was fulle sare ;
In his mantille of skarlet rede
Y-mange his golde he did his brede,
And with hyme he it bare.

The knyghte come to a banke fulle drye,
And thare byhoves hym al nyghte to lye,
For ferrere myghte noghte he ;
There come in the mournynge an egle flyande,
And sone the knyghtes mantille he fande,
And awaye therwith gane flye.
The knyghte folowed that egle to the see ;
And that same tyde come an unycorne,
His ȝongeste sone away hase he borne,
Swylke sorowe that knyghte gane dree !

Ofte was that knyghte bothe wele and woo,
Bot never ȝitt als he was thoo ;
He sett hym one a stone.
With carefulle mode and drery stevene,
Unto the heghe kyng of hevene
Made he thane his mone.
" A ! Lorde," he saide, " fulle wo es me,
So faire childir als I hafede thre,
And nowe ame I lefte allone !
Now Gode, that beres the heghe crowne,
The waye he wysse me to some towne,
For fulle wille I ame of wone !"

Bot als the knyghte went thorow a lawe,
Smethymene thore herde he blawe,
And fyres thore bryne and glewe ;
He askede tham mete for charyte,
And thay bade hym swynke, " And swa do we,
Hafe we none other ploghe."
" For mete," he sayde, " I wold wyrke fayne,"
The knyghte ansuerde fulle sone agayne,
" Bathe bere and drawe y-noghe."
Thane mete thay gafe hym fulle gud wone,
And thay garte hym bere iryne and stone
Owte of a sory sloghe.

And thus bare the knyght iryne and stone
Unto the sevene wyntter were alle gone,
And wroghte hym-selvene fulle woo ;
And untille that he couthe make a fyre,
And than thay gafe hym ȝomans hyre,
Wele more he wroghte thane twoo !
A smethymane thus was he thore
Fully sevene ȝere or more.
And blewe thaire belyes bloo ;
And by that he hade hym-selfene dyghte
Alle the atyre that felle to a knyghte,
Bot that he was noghte horsed ryghte
To batelle whenne he solde goo.

Alle those sevene ȝere, I undirstande,
The sowdane werreyede in Cristene lande,
And wakkenede woo fulle wyde ;
The Crystene kynges hase fledde so lange,
To thay hafe getyne tham powere strange,
Those Sarazenes for to byde.
A daye of batelle than was sett,
That Cristyne and haythene samene solde mete
A littylle ther besyde.
Sir Ysambrace hym umbithoghte
Appone a horse that coles broghte
That he wolde thedir ryde.

Bemes thane herde he blowe fulle lowde,
[And sawe knyghtes and beryns prowde,]
And swerdes drawene one lofte.
He sett hym downe appone his kne,
To Jhesu Criste than prayes he,
And enterely hym bysoghte :
" Nowe, Lorde," he saide, " thou lene me grace
in this felde,
ȝone heythene sowdane that I may ȝelde
The woo he hase me wroghte !"

The knyghttes herte it was fulle gude,
And forthe he went with hardy mode,
And thryse he gonne hym sayne
For no wapene wolde he stynt ;
There lyffede none that hent his dynt,
Tille that his horse was slayne.
Than the knyghte to the grownde soughte,
A Crystyne erle hym helpede one lofte,
And owte of the batelle he hym broghte
Untille an heghe mountayne ;
And stoppede his wondis that gunne blede,
And sythene he horsede hym one a stede,
And thane he soghte agayne.

Bot whenne he was horsede on a stede,
He sprange als any sparke one glede
With grymly growndyne gare ;
The beryns he hitt appone the hode,
Thorowe the breste-bane it wode,
And ȝit es sene whare his horse stode,
And salle be evermare !
Thane rode he up at ane heghe mountayne,
And thare the sowdane hase he slayne,
And many that with hym were ;
Thre dayes and thre nyghttes
Agaynes the Sarazenes helde he fyghttes,
And the batelle ve[n]queste he thare.

And whenne the Sarazenes were alle slayne,
The Crystene kynges were fulle fayne,
Thay made thame gamene and glee.
The kyng thane askede after that mekille knyght,
That hase done so doghetyly in this fyghte,
That I may never hym see :
Erles and baronns thay hafe hym soghte,
And byfore the kynge thay hafe hym broghte,
A fulle sare wondide mane was hee !
The kyng his name faste fraynes thane,
" Sir," he saide " I am a smethymane,
Whate es ȝour wille with me ?"