Part 3: Lines 819–1226

Rowlande met with Ferumbras
And gafe him such a stroke
That al astonyed þerof he was,
It made him lowe to stoupe.

Ferombras smote him agayne
With myghte and mayn, with ire
That he stenyed alle his brayne,
Him thought, his eyen̄ were alle on fyre.

With Lucafer Oliver mette,
And hit him on the sheelde
A stroke, that was right wel sette;
A quarter flye in the feelde.

Thus thai hurteled to-gedere
Alle the lefe longe daye,
Nowe hider and nowe theder;
Mony an hors wente ther astraye.

The Dosyperis thay foughten wele,
Duke Neymys and Oger,
With goode swerdes of fyne stele
And so dide Gye and Syr Bryer.

Ferumbras was euer a-bowte
To fyghte witħ Olyvere,
And Olyuer with-oute dowte
Leyde on with goode chere.

Kinge Charles saugh Ferumbras,
To him fast he rode
And it on the helme witħ his mace,
That stroke sadlye abode.

Ferumbras was woode for woo,
He myght for prees come him to
For no worldis thinge, that myght be tho.
Kinge Charles anoon Ioye oute-drowe,

And with his owen honde
XXXti Sarseynys ther he slowe,
That laie dede vppone the sonde;
Many of hem therfore made joy Inowe.

Sir Lucafere of Baldas,
He presed to Charles sone,
And saide “Sir, with harde grace,
What hastowe here to done?

I behight Laban to bringe the to him
And the xij peris alle;
Now shaltowe come from al thy kyn
Into the Sowdans halle.

Yelde the to me” he saide,
“Thy life shalle I safe.”
A stroke on him than Charles layde;
He made the Paynym to rafe.

He smote him on the helme
With mown-Ioye, his gode bronde.
Ne hadde he be reskued than,
He hade slayn him with his honde.

Than came Baldeȝynȝ with thronge
To reskue there here lorde,
And nubens with hem amonge
And Turkes by one accorde.

Tho Roulande Durnedale oute-drowe
And made Romme abowte.
XL of hem ther he slowe,
Tho were thai in grete dowte.

Roulande as fiers as a lion̄
With Durnedale tho dinge
Vppon the Sarsyns crowne,
As harde as he myght flynge.

Duke Neymys and Sir Olyuer,
Gy and Alloreynes of Loreyne,
And alle the noble xij Peris,
Oger and Bryer of Brytayne,

Thai foughten as feythfully in þat fight,
The feelde ful of dede men laye.
XXXti thousande, I you plight,
Of Sarsenys ther were slayn̄.

Al thinge moste haue an̄ ende,
The nyghte come on ful sone,
Every wighte retourned to wende;
Ferumbras to his men gan gone

And saide “oure hornes blowe we,
This day haue we a ful ille afraye,
To saie the south and not to lye,
Oure goddis holpe vs not to daye,

What devel þat ever hem̄ eilith.
This bataile was so sharpe in faye,
That many a man it wailyth.
Shalle I never in herte be glade to daye,

Till I may preve my myghte
With Roulande, that proude ladde,
Or with Olyuer, that is so lighte,
That evel hath vs ladde;

And in Paris be crowned kinge
In despite of hem alle,
I wole leve for no thinge
What so evere byfalle.”

Kinge Charles with grete honour
Wente to his Pavilon̄;
Of the treyumple he bare the flour
In dispite of Mahounde.

Almyghty God and Seynte Denyse
He thanked ful ofte sithe
And oure lady Marie of Paris,
That made hem gladde and blitħ.

He recomendide the olde Knightes,
That þat daye hade the victorye,
And charged the yonge with al her myghtes
To haue hem in memorye;

For worthynesse wole not be hadde,
But it be ofte sougħte,
Ner knigħthode wole not ben hadde,
Tille it be dere boghte.

“Therfore ye knightes, yonge of age,
Of oolde ye may now lere,
Howe ye shalle both hurle and rage
In felde with sheelde and spere.

And take ensample of the xij Peris,
Howe thai have proved her myght,
And howe thai were both wight and fiers
To wynnen honourys in righte.

These hethen houndes we shal a-tame
By God in magiste,
Let us make myrtħ in goddis name
And to souper nowe goo we.”

“O THOW, rede Marȝ Armypotente,
That in the trende baye hase made þy trone,
That god arte of bataile and regent
And rulist alle that alone,

To whom I profre precious present,
To the makande my moone
Witħ herte, body and alle myn entente,
A crown̄ of precious stoones,

And howe to the I gyfe
Withouten fraude or engyne,
Vppon̄ thy day to make offerynge,
And so shal I ever, while þat I live;

By righte þat longith to my laye,
In worshipe of thy reverence
On thyn owen Tewesdaye
With myrr, aloes and Frankensense,

Vppon̄ condicion̄ that thou me graunte,
The victorye of Crystyn̄ Dogges,
And that I may some hem adaunte
And sle hem down̄ as hogges,

That have done me distruccion̄
And grete disherytaunce
And eke slayn my men with wronge.
Mahounde gyfe hem myschaunce!”

IN the semely seson of the yere,
Of softenesse of the sonne,
In the prymsauns of grene vere,
Whan floures spryngyn̄ and bygynne,

And alle the floures in the fritħ
Freshly shews here kynde,
Than it is semely therwytħ,
That manhode be in mynde;

For corage wole a man to kitħ,
If he of menske haue mynde,
And of loue to lystyn̄ and lithe,
And to seke honur for þat ende.

For he was neuere gode werryour,
That cowde not loue a-ryght;
For loue hath made many a conquerour
And many a worthy knighte.

This worthy Sowdan, though he heþen wer,
He was a worthy conquerour;
Many a contrey with shelde and spere
He conquerede wyth grete honoure.

And his worthy sone Ferumbras,
That kinge was of Alisaundr,
And Lucafer of Baldas,
That cruel kinge of Cassaundr,

That wroughten wonders with here honde
With myghte and mayne for to fyghte,
And over-ride mony a manly londe,
As men of Armes hardy and wighte.

The Sowdan seyinge this myschief,
How Charles hade him a-greved,
That grevaunce was him no thinge lese,
He was ful sore ameved.

He sente oute his bassatoures
To Realmes, provynces ferr and ner,
To Townes, Citeis, Castels and Tours,
To come to him ther he were,

To Inde Maior and to Assye,
To Ascoloyne, Venys, Frige and Ethiope,
To Nubye, Turkye and Barbarye,
To Macedoine, Bulgar and to Europe.

Alle these people was gadred to Agremore,
Thre hundred thousand of Sarsyns felle,
Some bloo, some yolowe, some blake as more,
Some horible and stronge as devel of helle.

He made hem drinke Wilde beestes bloode,
Of Tigre, Antilope and of Camalyon̄,
As is here vse to egre here mode,
Whan þai in werre to battayle goon.

He saide to hem “my frendes der,
As my trust is alle in you,
On these Frenche dogges, that bene here,
Ye moste avenge me nowe.

Thai have done me vilanye,
Mikille of my people have thay slayn̄.
And yet more-over thay manace me
And drive me to my contrey agayn;

Wherefore I wole at the bygynnynge
To Mahounde and to my goddis alle
Make a solempne offerynge;
The better shall it vs byfalle.

The laste tyme thai were wrothe,
We hade not done oure dute.
Therefore to saye the southe” . . . .
There were many hornys blowe,

The preestes senden̄ thikke I-nowe
Goolde, and silver thikke thai throwe,
With noyse and crye thai beestes slowe,
And thought to spede wel I-nowe;

And every man his vowe he made
To venge the Sowdan̄ of his tene.
Here goddis of golde thai wex alle fade,
The smoke so grete was hem bitwene.

Whan alle was done, the Sowdan than
Charged Ferumbras redy to be
On the morowe, ere day began,
To ride oute of þat Cite

With xxxti thousande of Assiens,
Frigys, Paens and Ascoloynes,
Turkis, Indeis and Venysyens,
Barbarens, Ethiopes and Macidoynes,

“Bringe him to me, that proude kinge;
I shal him teche curtesye,
Loke that thou leve for nothinge
To sle alle his other mayne,

Safe Rouland and Olyuere,
That bene of grete renowne,
If thai wole reneye her goddis ther
And leven on myghty Mahounde.”

FERUMBRAS with grete araye
Rode forthe, Mahounde him spede,
Tille he came nyȝe ther Charles lay
By syde in a grene mede.

In a woode he buskede his men
Prively that same tyde,
And with his felowes noon but ten
To kinge Charles he gan ride

And said “sir kinge, that Arte so kene,
Upon trwes I come to speke with the,
If thou be curteis, as I wene,
Thou wolte graunte a bone to me,

That I migħte fight vppon̄ this grene,
With Rouland, Olyvere and Gye,
Duke Neymes and Oger I mene,
Ye and Duke Richarde of Normandye,

With al sex attones to fight.
My body I profr here to the
And requyre the, kinge, thoᶙ do me right,
As thou art gentille Lord and fre;

And if I may conquere hem in fere,
To lede them home to my Faderis halle;
And if thai me, I graunte the here,
To be thy man, body and alle.”

The kinge Answered with wordis mylde
And saide “felowe, þat neditħ nought,
I shalle fynde of myn̄ a Childe,
That shal the fynde that thou hast sought.”

The kinge lete calle Sir Roulande
And saide “thou most with this man figħt,
To take this bataile here on honde,
Ther-to God gyfe the grace and myghte!”

Roulande answered with woordis boolde
And saide “Sir, have me excused!”
He saide, certeynly he ne wolde;
The bataile vttirly he refused.

“The laste day ye preised faste
The oolde knightes of her worthynes.
Let hem goon fortħ, I haue no haste,
Thai may goo shewen her prowes.”

For that worde the kinge was wrothe
And smote him on the mouthe on̄ hye,
The bloode at his nose oute-goth,
And saide “traitour, thou shalte a-bye.”

“A-bye” quod Roulande “wole I noughte,
And traitour was I never none,
By þat lord, þat me dere hath bought!”
And braide oute Durnedale þer anone.

He wolde haue smyten̄ the kinge ther,
Ne hadde the barons ronne bytwene;
The kinge with-drowe him for fer
And passed home as it myght beste bene.

The Barons made hem at one
With grete prayer and instaunce,
As every wrath moste over-gone,
Of the more myschiefe to make voydaunce.

Olyuere herde telle of this,
That in his bedde laye seke sore.
He armede him ful sone I-wisse,
And to the kinge he wente withoute more

And saide “Sir Kinge, a bone graunte me
For alle the servyse, that I haue done,
To fight with þat kinge so free
To morue day, ere it be none.”

Charles answered to Olyuer:
“Thou arte seke and woundede sore,
And thou also my cosyn̄ dere,
Therfore speke thereof no more.”—

“Sir Kinge” he saide “I am alle hoole,
I aske you this bone in goddis name.”
“Certes” he saide “I holde the a fole,
But I praye, god sheelde the fro shame.”

Forth he rideth in that Forest,
Tille he gan Ferumbras see,
Where he was ligħt and toke his rest,
His stede renewed til a grene tre.

“Sir” he saide “reste thoᶙ wele!
Kinge Charles sente me hidur.
If thou be curteys knighte and lele,
Rise vp and let vs fight to-geder.”

Ferumbras sate stille and lough,
Him liste not to rise oute of the place.
“My felowe” quod he “what arte thou?
Telle me thy name for goddis grace.”

“Sir” he saide “Generyse,
A yonge knighte late dobbet newe.”
“By Mahounde” quod he “thou arte not wyse,
For thy comyng shaltowe sore rewe.

I holde Charles but a foole
To sende the hider to me,
I shall the lerne a newe scole,
If thoue so hardy to fighte be.

I wende, he wolde haue sende Roulande,
Olyuer and iiij mo Dosyperys,
That hade bene mygħty men of honde
Bataile to a-bide stronge and fiers.

With the me liste no playe begynne,
Ride agayn̄ and saye him soo!
Of the may I no worshype wynne,
Though I slougħ the and such V mo.”

“Howe longe” quod Olyuer “wiltowe plete?
Take thyn̄ armes and come to me,
And prove þat thou saiest in dede,
For boost thou blowest, and þenkes me.”

Whan Ferumbras herde him speke so wel,
He caught his helme in grete Ire,
That wroght was of goode fyne stele
With Perlis pight, Rubeis and Saphire.

Olyuer halpe him it to onlase;
Gilte it was alle abowte.
Ferumbras þanked him of his grace
And curteisly to him gan lowte.

Thai worthed vp on̄ here stedes,
To Iuste thai made hem preest,
Of Armes to shewe her myghty dedis
Thai layden here speres in a-reeste,

To-geder thai ronnen̄ as fire of thonder,
That both here Launces to-braste.
That they seten̄, it was grete wonder;
So harde it was, þat thay gan threste.

Tho drowen̄ thai oute here swordes kene
And smyten to-geder by one assente.
There thai hitten̄, it was wele sene;
To sle eche other was here entente.

Syr Ferumbras smote Olyuer
Vppon̄ the helme righte on hye
With his swerde of metel cler,
That the fyre he made oute-flye.

Olyuer him hitte agayn̄ vpon̄ the hede
the hede than fulle sore,
He carfe awaye with mygħt and mayne
The cercle, that sate vppon̄ his crown̄.

The stroke glode down by his bake,
The Arson he smot ther awaye
And the botelles of bawme withoute lake,
That uppone the grene ther thai laye,

That were trussed by-hynde him faste.
Tho Ferumbras was ful woo;
Olyuer light adown̄ in haste,
The botellis he seased both two,

He threwe hem into the River than
As ferr as he myghte throwe.
“Alas” quod Ferumbras “what doistowe, manne?
Thou art wode, as I trowe.

Thai were worth an C mɫ pounde
To a man, þat were wounded sore.
Ther was no preciosour thinge vppon̄ grounde,
That myghte helpe a man more.

Thou shalt abye by Mahounde,
That is a man of myghtes moost.
I shall breke both bake and crown̄
And sle the, ther thou goist.”

Tho Olyuer worth vp agayn̄,
His swerde he hade oute I-drawe.
Ferumbras him smote with mayne
And mente to haue him slawe.

He smote as doth the dinte of þondir;
It glased down by his sheelde
And carfe his stedes neke a-sonder,
That dede he fille in the felde.

Wightly Olyuer vp-sterte
As Bacheler, doughti of dede,
With swerde in honde him for to hirte
Or Ferumbras goode stede.

That Ferumbras aspied welle,
He rode a-waye than ful faste
And tiede him to a grene hasel,
And come ayen to him in haste

And saide “nowe yelde the to me!
Thou maiste not longe endure;
And leve on Mahounde, þat is so der,
And thy life I shalle the ensure.

Thou shalt be a Duke in my contr,
And men haue at thyn̄ owen̄ wille.
To my Sustir shaltowe wedded be,
It were pite the for to spille!”