Part 7: Lines 2451–2858

Tho he dide bere hem in ayen̄,
And to hem made dewe offerynge.
The prestis assoyled him of þat synne,
Ful lowly for him prayinge.

Tho he cleped his counselers
Brulande and Sortybraunce,
Axynge, howe he myght destroye the xij peres,
That Mahounde gife hem myschaunce.

Thay cowde no more ther-on̄,
But late saile ayen̄ the toure.
Witħ xxti thousande thai gan̄ gon̄,
And bigonne a newe shoure

To breke down̄ the Walles,
With mattokes and witħ pike,
Tille iiij hundred of hem alle
Lay slayne in the dike.

So stronge was the cast of stoone.
The Saresyns drewe hem̄ abakke,
Tille it was at hye none;
Tho gonne thay ayen̄ to shake.

Tho fayled hem cast, þat were with-inne;
Tho cowde thai no rede,
For stoone was ther noone to wynne.
Tho were thay in grete drede.

Than saide Florip, “beitħ not dismayde!
Ye shalle be holpe anoon̄.
Here is syluer vessel and now,” she sayde,
“That shulle ye prove goode woon̄.”

She set it forth, thay caste oute faste
Alle that came to honde.
Off siluer and goolde vessel thay made waste
That wast down̄ vppon̄ the sonde.

Whan̄ thai saugħ that roial sight,
Thai leften alle here dede;
And for the tresoure thay do fight,
Who so myghte it awey lede.

Tho the Sowdon̄ wexe nere wode,
Seinge this tresoure thus dispoyled,
That was to him so dere and goode
Laye in the dike thus defouled.

He bade that thai shulde leue
And turne hem̄ agayne in haste.
He wente home tille his tente than
With grete sorowe and mournyng mode.

To-fore his goddis whan̄ he came,
He cryed, as he were wode:
“O fals goddis, that ye betħ,
I have trustid to longe youre mode.

We were lever to suffr dede,
Than̄ lif this life here lenger nowe.
I haue almoste loste the bretħ,
xij fals traytours me overe-lede,

And stroyen alle þat I haue.
Ye fals goddis, the devel youe spede!
Ye make me nowe for to rave;
Ye do fayle me at my nede.”

In Ire he smote Mahounde,
That was of goolde fulle rede,
That he fille down̄ to the grounde,
As he hade bene dede.

Alle here bisshopes cryden̄ oute
And saide “Mahounde, thyn̄ ore!”
And down̄ to the erthe wele lowe thay loute,
Howlynge and wepynge sore,

And saide “Sire Sowdon̄, what haue ye done?
Vengeaunce shalle on the falle,
But thoᶙ repente the here anone.”
“Ye” quod he “I shrewe yoᶙ alle!”

Thai made a fyre of frankencense
And blewen̄ hornes of bras,
And casten in milke hony for the offence,
To-fore Mahoundes face.

Thay counsailed Laban to knele a down̄
And aske forgevenes in that place.
And so he didde and hade pardon̄
Throgh prayere and specialle grace.

Then this was done, þan̄ sayde Roulande
To his Felowes xj:
“Here may we not longe holde londe,
By God that is in heven̄.

Therefore sende we to Charles, the kinge,
That he wolde reskowe vs sone;
And certyfye him of oure strayȝte beinge,
If ye thinke, it be to done.

Richard of Normandye, ye most goon̄,
I holde yoᶙ both wyse and hende.
And we shalle tomorowe, as stil as stoon̄,
The Saresyns a-wake, er ye wynde.

And while we be mooste bysy in oure werke,
And medel witħ hem alle in fere,
Stele ye a-waye in the derke!
And spede you faste, ye were there!”

On the morowe aftir the daye
Thay were armede ful ryghte,
Thai rode fortħ stilly in here way,
God gouerne hem, mooste of myght!

Floripe and here maydyns kept the tour
And woonde vp the brigges on hye,
And prayde god, to kepe here paramour,
The Duke of Burgoyne, Sir Gȳe.

She preyde to Rouland, er he wente,
To take goode hede of him̄,
That he were neyþer take nere shente,
As he wolde her loue wynne.

On thay set with herte stronge
And alle hem̄ sore afrayed.
Richard the whiles away he wronge,
Thile thai were alle dismayede.

Towarde the Mountrible he hyed him faste,
To passe, if that he myghte.
Thedir he came at the laste.
God kepe him for his mocħ myght!

His xij felowes besyed hem̄ soo
That many of hem̄ thay sloughe.
Gye slowe the kinge of Babyloyne tho;
The Babyloynes of his hors him drowe,

And with force him drowe there
And bounde his hondes ful fast.
A newe game thai gan̄ him lere,
For in depe prison̄ thay him caste.

But Laban̄ wolde him first se,
To wete what he was.
“Telle me thy name nowe” quod he,
“Thy songe shalle be ‘alas.’”—

“Sire” he saide “my name is Gye,
I wole it never forsake.
It were to me grete vilanye
An̄ othir name to take.”—

“O fals traytour” quod Laban̄,
“My doghtir, þat stronge hore,
Hath me for-sake and the hath tan̄,
Thoᶙ shalte be honged therfore.”

Roulande made grete moone,
It wolde noon̄ other be.
Homwarde thai gan̄ goon̄,
.iij.c Saresyns ther saye he,

That kepte the pace at the brigge-ende,
Armed wel in goode araye,
That thai sholde not in wende,
But be take or slayn̄ þat daye.

Roulande to his felowes saide:
“Beth alle of right gode chere!
And we shal make hem alle afrayde,
Er we go to oure soupere.”

There byganne a bykeringe bolde
Of x Bachelers that tyde,
Agayne iijc men̄ I-tolde,
That durste righte wel a-byde.

Tho was Durnedale set a werke,
XL of hethen he sloughe,
He spared neþer lewde ner clerke,
And Floripas ther-of loughe.

The shotte, the caste was so stronge,
Syr Bryer was slayn̄ there
With dartes, gauylokes and speres longe,
xxti on hym there were.

Roulande was woo and Olyuer,
Thay sloughen̄ alle that thai mette.
Tho fledde the Turkes alle for fer,
Thay durste no longer lette

And saide, thai wer no men,
But develis abroken̄ oute of helle,
“.iij. hundred of vs agayn̄ hem ten̄.
Oure lorde Mahounde hem qwelle!

XL of vs here be ascaped,
And hardde we be bistadde.”—
“Who so wole of hem̄ more be iaped,
I holde him worsse than madde.”

Tho Roulande and Olyuer
Maden̄ grete woo and sorowe,
And token̄ the corps of Sir Bryere
And beryed it on the morowe.

Floripe asked Roulande anoone
“Where is my loue Sir Gye?”—
“Damesel” he saide “he is goon̄,
And therfore woo am I.”—

“Alas” she saide “than am I dede,
Nowe Gye my lorde is slayn̄,
Shall I neuer more ete brede
Tille that I may se him̄ agayn̄.”—

“Be stille” quod Roulande “and haue no car,
We shal hym̄ haue ful wele.
Tomorowe wele we thiderward far
With spere and shelde of stele.

But we bringe him to this Tour—
Leeve me elles no more—
With victorye and grete honour,
Or thay shalle abye it ful sore.”

On the morowe, whan tha daye was clere,
Laban ordeynede Gye honged to be.
He cleped forth Sir Tampere
And badde him do make a Galowe tre,

“And set it even̄ by-fore the tour,
That þilke hore may him see;
For by lord Mahounde of honour,
This traitour there shalle honged be.

Take withe the .iij. hundred knigħtes
Of Ethiopis, Indens and Ascopartes,
That bene boolde and hardy to fight
With Wifles, Fauchons, Gauylokes and Dartes;

Leste þat lurdeynes come skulkynge oute,
For ever thay haue bene shrewes.
Loke eche of hem̄ haue sucħ a cloute,
That thay neuer ete moo Sewes.”

Forth thay wente with Sir Gye,
That bounde was as a thefe faste,
Tille thay come the towr ful nye;
Thai rered the Galowes in haste.

Roulande perceyued here doynge
And saide “felows, let armes!
I am ful gladde of here comynge,
Hem shall not helpe her charmes.”

Oute thai riden a wele gode spede,
Thai ix towarde hem alle.
Florip witħ here maydyns toke gode hede,
Biholdinge over the tour walle.

Thai met first witħ Sir Tamper,
God gife him evelle fyne!
Such a stroke lente hym Olyuer,
He clefe him down̄ to the skyne.

Rouland bare the kinge of Ynde
Ther with his spere frome his stede.
.iiij. fote it passed his bak byhynde,
His herte blode þer didde he blede.

He caught the stede, he was ful goode,
And the swerde, þat the kinge hadde,
And rode to Gye, there he stode,
And onbounde hym̄ and bade him be gladde.

And girde him witħ that goode swerde,
And lepen vppon̄ here stedes.
“Be thou” he saide “righte nougħt a-ferde,
But helpe vs wightly at this nede.”

An hundred of hem sone thay slowe
Of the beste of hem alle;
The remenaunte a-way fast thay flowe,
That foule motte hem byfalle!

Rouland and his Felowes were glad
That Gye was safe in dede.
Thay thanked god, that thay him hadde
Gyfen thaye sucħ grace to spede.

As thay wente towarde the Tour,
A litil bysyde the hye waye,
Thai saugh comynge with grete vigour
An hundred vppon̄ a laye.

Costroye ther was, the Admyral,
With vitaile grete plente,
And the stondarte of the Sowdon̄ Roial.
Towarde Mauntrible riden̄ he,

.iiij. Chariotes I-charged witħ flessh and brede,
And two other with wyne,
Of divers colouris, yolowe, white and rede,
And iiij Somers of spicery fyne.

Tho saide Roulande to Olyuer:
“With these meyne moste we shifte,
To haue parte of here vitailes her,
For therof us nedith by my thrifte.”—

“Howe, sires” he saide “god you see!
We pray youe for youre curtesye,
Parte of your Vitaile graunte me,
For we may nother borowe ner bye.”

Tho spake Cosdroye, that Admyral,
“Ye gete none here for nogħt.
Yf ye oght chalenge in special,
It most be dere I-boght.”—

“O gentil knightes” quod Olyuere,
“He is no felowe, þat wole haue alle.”
“Go fortħ” quod the stondart, “thoᶙ getist noon here,
Thy parte shalle be fulle smalle.”—

“Forsoth” quod Roulande “and shift we wole,
Gete the better, who gete maye!
To parte with the nedy it is gode skille,
And so shalle ye by my faye.”

He rode to the Admyral witħ his swerde
And gafe him suche a cloute,
No wonder thogħ he were aferde,
Both his eyȝen̄ braste oute.

Olyuere met withe the proude stondarde,
He smote him througħ the herte.
That hade he for his rewarde;
That wounde gan̄ sore smerte.

Thai were slayn̄, that wolde fight
Er durste bikure abyde.
Thai forsoke her parte anoon̄ rigħt,
It lefte alle on̄ that on̄ side.

Forth thai drewen̄ þat vitaile
Streight in-to the Toure.
There was no man̄ durst hem assayle
For drede of here vigour.

Floripe hem resceyved with honour
And thanked Roulande fele sythe,
That she saugħ Gye hir paramour,
That wolde she him qwite and kithe.

Thai eten̄ and dronken and made hem gladde,
Hem neded ther aftyr fulle sore
Of suche, as god hem sente hade,
I-nowe for iiij moonþes and more.

Florip saide to Roulande than,
“Ye moste chese you a love
Of alle my maydyns, white as swan̄.”—
Quod Rouland “þat were myscheve;

Oure lay wole not, þat we with youe dele,
Tille that ye Cristyn̄ be made;
Ner of your play we wole not fele,
For than̄ were we cursed in dede.”

NOWE shall ye here of Laban̄.
Whan tidyngges to him wer comen̄,
Tho was he a fulle sory man̄.
Whan he herde, howe his vitaile were nomen̄,

And howe his men were slayne,
And Gye was go safe hem̄ froo,
He defyed Mahounde and Apolyne,
Iubiter, Ascarot and Alcaron̄ also.

He commaundede a fire to be digħt
With picche and Brymston̄ to bren̄.
He made a vowe with alle his mygħt,
“Thai shal be caste ther-Inne!”

The prestes of her lawe ther-on̄,
Thai criden̄ oute for drede
And saide “alas, what wole ye done?
The worse than moste ye spede!”

The Sowdon̄ made a grete othe
And swore by his hye trone,
That though hem were never so lotħ,
Thai sholde be brente Ichon̄.

Tho came the bisshope Cramadas
And kneled bifore the Sowdon̄,
And charged him by the hye name Sathanas,
To saven his goddes ychon̄:

“For if ye brenne youre goddes her,
Ye wynnyn̄ her malison̄,
Than wole no man do yoᶙ cher,
In feelde, Cite, ner in town̄.”

The Sowdon̄ was astonyed þan
And gan him sore repente
Of the foly, that he bygan̄,
And els hade he be shente.

A thousande of Besauntes he offred þaym to,
By counsail of sir Cramadas,
To please witħ his goddys tho,
For fere of harde grace.

The Sowdone commaunded euery daye
To assaile the tour witħ caste.
But thay with-in gafe not an Eye,
For thai wroghte in wast.

NOWE speke we of Richarde of Normandy,
That on message was sente,
Howe he spede and his meyne.
Whan he to Mauntrible wente,

He founde the brigge Ichayned sore;
xxiiijti were ouere-drawen̄.
Alagolofure stode there byfore,
That many a man hade slawene.

Whan Richard saugħ, ther was no gate,
But by flagot the flode,
His message wolde he not lete;
His hors was botħ bigge and goode.

He kneled, bisechinge god of his grace,
To save him fro myschiefe.
A white hende he saugħ anoon̄ in þat place,
That swam̄ over the cliffe.

He blessed him in godis name
And folowed the same waye
The gentil hende, þat was so tame,
That on̄ þat othir side gan playe.

He thanked god fele sythe,
That him hade sente comforte.
He hied him in his message swiþe,
To speke witħ Charles his lorde.

But I shalle yoᶙ telle of a traytour,
That his name was called Genelyne,
He counseiled Charles for his honour
To turne homewarde ageyn̄.

He saide “the xij peres bene alle dede,
And ye spende your goode in vayne,
And therfore dotħ nowe by my rede,
Ye shalle see hem no more certeyn̄.”

The kinge bileved þat he saide,
And homwarde gan he fare.
He of his xij Dosiperes was sore dismayed,
His herte woxe right fulle of car.

Rycharde of Normandy came prikande
And hertly to ride begane.
Kinge Charles aspyed him comande;
He commaunded to abide euery man̄.

“What tidingges?” quod the kinge to Richarde,
“Howe fare my felowes alle?”
“My lorde” he saide “god wote, ful harde,
For thai be byseged with-in ston-walle,

Abydynge youre helpe and your socour,
As men þat haue grete nede.
For Ihesues loue, kinge of honour,
Thiderward ye yoᶙ spede!”

“O Genelyne” quod the kinge,
“Nowe knowe I thy treson̄,
I shalle the qwite, be seynte Fremounde,
Whan̄ this viage is don̄.”

The kinge turned him ageyn̄,
And alle his Ooste him witħ,
Towarde Mountrible certeyne.
And graunte him gree and grith!

Richarde him tolde of that place,
Howe stronge it was I-holde
With a geaunte foule of face,
The brigge hath chayned many folde;

The River was both depe and brode,
Ther myght no man̄ over-ryde.
“The last tyme that I over-rode,
By myracle I passed þat tide.