Part V: Stanzas 156–195

Thus the lady dwellith there,
Tyll that she delyuerd were
Of men~ children~ two;
In all poyntes they were gent,
And like they were to sir Torent;
For his love they sufferid woo.
The kyng said: ‘So mut I thee,
Thou shalte in-to the see
With oute wordys moo.
Euery kyngis doughter ffer and nere,
At the shaƚƚ they lere,
Ayen~ the law to do.’

Gret ruth it was to se,
Whan they led that lady ffree
Oute of her faders lond.
The quene wexid tho nere wood
For her doughter, that gentiƚƚ ffode,
And knyghtis stode wepand;
A cloth of silke gan they ta
And partyd it be-twene hem twa,
Therin they were wonde.
Whan~ they had shypped that lady ying,
An hunderid feƚƚ in sownyng
At Peron~ on~ the sond.

Whan that lady was downe fall,
On Iesu Cryste dyd she call;
Down~ knelid that lady clene:
‘Rightfull god, ye me sende
Some good londe, on to lende,
That my chyldren may crystonyd bene!’
She said, ‘Knyghtis and ladyes gent,
Grete weƚƚ my lord, sir Torrent,
Yeff ye hym~ euer sene!’
The wynd Rose ayen~ the nyght,
Fro lond it blew that lady bryght
Vppon the see so grene.

Wyndes and weders haue her drevyn~,
Þat in a forest she is revyn~,
There wyld beestis were;
The see was eb, and went her ffroo,
And lefte her and her children~ two
Alone with-oute ffere.
Her one child woke and be-gan~ to wepe,
The lady a-woke oute of her slepe
And said: ‘Be stiƚƚ, my dere,
Iesu Cryst hath sent vs lond;
Yf there be any cryston man~ nere hond,
We shaƚƚ haue som socoure here.’

The carefuƚƚ lady was fuƚƚ blith,
Vp to lond she went swith,
As fast as euer she myght.
Tho the day be-gan~ to spryng,
Foules a-Rose and mery gan syng
Delicious notys on~ hight.
To a mowntayn went that lady ffree:
Sone was she warr~ of a Cite
With towrus ffeyre and bryght.
There fore, i-wys, she was fuƚƚ fayn~,
She sett her down~, as I herd sayn~,
Her two children~ ffor to dight.

Vppon~ the low the lady ffound
An Erber wrought with mannus hond,
With herbis, that were good.
A Grype was in~ the mowntayn~ wonne,
A way he bare her yong son~
Ouer a water fflood,
Over in to a wyldernes,
There seynt Antony ermet wes,
There as his chapeƚƚ stode.
The other child down~ gan~ she ly,
And on the ffoule did shoute & crye,
That she was nere hond wood.

Vp she rose ageyn~ the rough~,
With sorofuƚƚ hert and care Inough~,
Carefuƚƚ of blood and bone . . . . . . .
She sye, it myght no better be,
She knelid down~ vppon~ her kne,
And thankid god and seynt Iohn~.

There come a libard vppon~ his pray,
And her other child bare away,
She thankid god there
And his moder Mary bryght.
This lady is lefte alone ryght:
The sorow she made there . . . . .

That she myght no further ffare:
‘Of one poynt,’ she sayd, ‘is my care,
As I do now vnderstond,
So my children~ crystenyd were,
Though they be with beestes there,
Theyre liffe is in goddus hond.’
The kyng of Ierusalem~ had bene
At his brothers weddyng, I wene,
That was lord of aƚƚ that lond.
As he com homward on his way,
He saw where the liberd lay
With a child pleyand.

Torrent had yeve her ringes two,
And euery child had one of tho,
Hym~ with aƚƚ to saue.
The kyng said: ‘Be Mary myld,
Yonder is a liberd with a child,
A mayden~ or a knave.’
Tho men~ of armes theder went,
Anon~ they had theyre hors spent,
Her guttys oute she Rave.
For no stroke wold she stynt;
Tiƚƚ they her slew with speris dynt,
The child myght they not haue.

Vp they toke the child ying
And brought it be-ffore the kyng
And vndid the swathing band,
As his moder be-ffore had done,
A gold ryng they ffound sone,
Was closud in his hond.
Tho said the kyng of Ierusalem~:
‘This child is come of gentiƚƚ teme,
Where euer this beest hym~ ffond.
The boke of Rome berith wytnes,
The kyng hym~ namyd Leobertus,
That was hent in hethyn~ lond.

Two squiers to the town~ gan~ flyng,
And a noryse to the child did bryng,
Hym~ to kepe ffrome greme.
He led it in~ to his own~ lond
And told the quene, how he it ffond
By a water streme.
Whan~ the lady saw the ryng,
She said, with-oute lettyng:
‘This child is com~ of gentiƚƚ teme:
Thou hast none heyre, thy lond to take,
For Iesu love thou sholdist hym~ make
Prynce of Ierusalem~.’

Now, in boke as we rede,
As seynt Antony aboute yede,
Byddyng his orysoun~,
Of the gripe he had a sight,
How she flew in a fflight,
To her birdus was she boun~.
Be-twene her clawes she bare a child:
He prayed to god and Mary myld,
On lyve to send it down~.
That man was weƚƚ with god aƚƚ-myȝt~,
At his fote gan~ she light,
That foule of gret renown~.

Vp he toke the child there,
To his auter he did it bere,
There his chapeƚƚ stode.
A knave child there he ffond,
There was closud in his hond
A gold ryng riche and good.
He bare it to the Cite grett,
There the kyng his fader sett
As a lord of jentiƚƚ blood,
For he wold saue it ffro dede;
A grype flew a-bove his hede
And cryed, as he were wood.

This holy man~ hied hym~ tyte
To a Cite with touris white,
As fast as he may.
The kyng at the yate stode
And other knyghtes and lordys good
To se the squiers play.
The kyng said: ‘Be Mary myld,
Yonder comyth Antony, my child,
With a gryffon~ gay.
Som~ of his byrdus take hath he,
And bryngith hem~ heder to me!’
Gret ferly had thaye.

The kyng there of toke good hede,
And a-geyn~ his sonne he yede
And said: ‘Welcom~ ye be!’
‘Fader,’ he said, ‘god you saue!
A knave child ffound I haue,
Loke, that it be dere to the!
Frome a greffon~ he was refte,
Of what lond that he is lefte,
Of gentiƚƚ blood was he:
Thou hast none heyre, thy lond to take,
For Iesu love thy sonne hym~ make,
As in the stede of me!’

The kyng said: ‘Yf I may lyve,
Helpe and hold I shaƚƚ hym yeve
And receyve hym as my son~.
Sith thou hast this lond forsake,
My riche londys I shaƚƚ hym~ take,
Whan he kepe them~ con~.’
To a ffont they hym yaue,
And crystonyd this yong knave;
Fro care he is wonne.
The holy man yaue hym~ name,
That Iesu shild hym~ ffrome shame:
Antony fice greffoun~.

‘Fader, than~ haue thou this ryng,
I ffound it on~ this swete thing,
Kepe it, yf thou may:
It is good in euery fight,
Yf god yeve grace, that he be knyght,
Be nyght and be day.’
Let we now this children~ dweƚƚ,
And speke we more of Desoneƚƚ:
Her song was welaway.
God, that died vppon~ the Rode,
Yff grace, that she mete with good!
Thus disparplid are thay.

This lady walkyd aƚƚ alone
Amonge wyld bestis meny one,
Ne wanted she no Woo;
Anon~ the day be-gan to spryng,
And the ffoules gan to syng,
With blis on euery bowȝe . . . . . . .

‘Byrdus and bestis, aye woo ye be!
Alone ye haue lefte me,
My children~ ye have slone.’
As she walkid than~ a-lone,
She sye lordis on~ huntyng gone,
Nere hem~ she yede fuƚƚ sone.
This carfuƚƚ lady cried faste,
Than she herd this hornes blaste
By the yatis gone,
But ran in to a wildernes,
Amongist beests that wyld wes,
For drede, she shold be slone.

Tiƚƚ it were vnder of the Day,
She went fro that wilsom~ way,
In to a lond playn~.
The kyng of Naȝareth huntid there,
Among the hertes, that gentiƚƚ were;
There of she was fuƚƚ ffayn~ . . . . . . . . .

They had ferly, kyng and knyght,
Whens she come, that lady bryght,
Dwelling here a-lone.
She said to a squier, that there stode:
‘Who is lord of most jentiƚƚ blood?’
And he answerid her anon~:
‘This ys the lond of Naȝareth,
Se, where the kyng gethe,
Of speche he is ffuƚƚ bone;
Aƚƚ in gold couerid is he.’
‘Gramercy, sir,’ said she,
And nere hym~ gan~ she gone.

Lordys anon ageyn~ her yode,
For she was com~ of gentiƚƚ blood,
In her lond had they bene:
‘God loke the, lady ffree,
What makist thou in this contre?’
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I wene,
Seynt Katryn~ I shold haue sought,
Wekyd weders me heder hath brought
In to this fforest grene,
And aƚƚ is dede, I vnderstond,
Saue my selfe, that com~ to lond
With wyld beestis and kene.’

‘Welcom,’ he said,’ Desoneƚƚ,
By a tokyn~ I shaƚƚ the teƚƚ:
Onys a stede I the sent.
Lady gent, ffeyre and ffree,
To the shold I haue wedid be,
My love was on~ the lent.’
Knyghtis and squiers, that there were,
They horsid the lady there,
And to the Cite they went.
The quene was curtes of that lond
And toke the lady be the hond
And said: ‘Welcom, my lady gent!

‘Lady, thou art welcom~ here,
As it aƚƚ thyn~ own~ were,
Aƚƚ this ffeyre contree!’
‘Of one poynt was my care,
And my two children~ crystonyd ware,
That in wood were reft ffro me.’
‘Welcom art thou, Desoneƚƚ,
In my chamber for to dweƚƚ,
Inough there in shaƚƚ ye see!’
Leve we now that lady gent,
And speke we of sir Torrent,
That was gentiƚƚ and ffre.

The kyng of Norway is fuƚƚ woo,
That sir Torent wold wend hym ffro,
That doughty was and bold:
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘abyde here
And wed my doughter, that is me dere!’
He said, in no wise he wold.
He shipped oute of the kynges sale
And Ryved vp in~ Portingale
At another hold.
Whan~ he herd teƚƚ of Desoneƚƚ,
Swith on sownyng there he feƚƚ
To the ground so cold.

The fals kyng of Portingale,
Sparid the yatis of his sale
For Torent the ffree;
He said: ‘Be Mary clere,
Thou shalt no wyfe haue here,
Go sech her in~ the see!
With her she toke whelpis two,
To lerne to row wold she go.’
‘By god, thou liest,’ quod he,
‘Kyng Colomand, here my hond!
And I be knyght levand,
I-quytt shaƚƚ it be!’

Torent wold no lenger byde,
But sent letters on euery side
With fforce theder to hye.
Theder com oute of Aragon~
Noble knyghtes of gret renown~
With grett chevalrye.
Of Pervyns and Calaber also
Were doughty knyghtes meny moo,
They come aƚƚ to that crye.
Kyng Calomond had no knyght,
That with sir Torent wold fyght,
Of aƚƚ that satt hym~ bye.

There wold none the yatis deffend,
But lett sir Torent in wend
With his men~ euerychone.
Swith a counseƚƚ yede they to,
To what deth they wold hym do,
For he his lady had slone.
‘Lordis,’ he said, ‘he is a kyng,
Men may hym~ nether hede ne hing.’
Thus said they euerychone.
They ordenyd a shipp aƚƚ of tree
And sett hym~ oute in~ to the see,
Among the wawes to gone.

Gret lordis of that lond
Assentid to that comnand,
That hold shold it be.
In the havyn~ of Portyngale,
There stode shippes of hede vale
Of Irun and of tree.
A bote of tre they brought hym be-fforn~,
Fuƚƚ of holis it was born~,
Howseƚƚ and shryfte wold he.
Sir Torent said: ‘Be seynt Iohn~,
Seth thou gaue my lady none,
No more men~ shaƚƚ do the!’

The shipp-men~ brought sir Colomond
And sent hym fforth within~ a stound
As ffar as it were.
Wott ye weƚƚ and vnderstond,
He come never ayen to lond,
Such stormes ffound he there.
Gret lordys of renown~
Be-toke sir Torent the crown~
To reioyse it there.
Loo, lordys of euery lond:
Falshode wyƚƚ haue a foule end,
And wyƚƚ haue euermore.

Sir Torent dwellid thare
Fourty days in moche care,
Season~ for to hold;
Sith he takith two knyghtes,
To kepe his lond and his rightes,
That doughty were and bold.
‘Madam~,’ he said to the quene,
‘Here than shaƚƚ ye lady bene,
To worth as ye wold.’
He purveyd hym~ anon~,
To wend ouer the see fome,
There god was bought and sold.

And ye now wiƚƚ liston~ a stound,
How he toke armes of kyng Calomond,
Listonyth, what he bare.
On asure, as ye may see,
With syluer shippes thre,
Who so had be thare.
For Desoneƚƚ is love so bryght,
His londis he takyth to a knyght,
And sith he is boun to fare.
‘Portyngale, haue good day
For Sevyn~ yere, parmaffay,
Par aventure som~ dele mare!’

Sir Torent passid the Grekys flood
In to a lond both riche and good,
Fuƚƚ evyn~ he toke the way
To the cite of Quareƚƚ,
As the boke of Rome doth teƚƚ,
There a soudan~ lay.
There he smote and set adown~
And yaue asaute in to the town,
That wiƚƚ the storye say.
So weƚƚ they vetelid were,
That he lay there two yere,
Sith in~ the town~ went they.

And tho sir Torent ffound on~ lyve,
He comaundid with spere and knyffe
Smertely dede to be;
He said: ‘We haue be here
Moche of this two yere
And onward on~ the thre.’
Aƚƚ the good, that sir Torent wan~,
He partid it among his man~,
Syluer, gold and ffee;
And sith he is boun to ride
To a Cite there be-syde,
That was worth such thre.

There he stode and smote adown~
And leyd sege to the town~,
Six yere there he lay.
By the VI yere were aƚƚ done,
With honger they were aƚƚ slone,
That in the Cite lay.
The Soudan sent to sir Torent than~,
With honger that thes people be slan,
Aƚƚ the folke of this Cite;
‘Yf ye thinke here to lye,
Ye shaƚƚ haue wyne and spycery,
I-nough is in this contre.’

Now god do his soule mede!
On the soudan~ he had a dede
Vppon~ euery good ffryday.
Iesu sent hym strengith I-nough~,
With dynt of sword he hym slough~,
There went none quyk away.
Down knelid that knyght
And thankid god with aƚƚ his myȝt~:
So ought he weƚƚ to say.
The Cite, that sir Torent was yn~,
Worldely goodis he left ther yn~,
To kepe it nyght and day.

Sith he buskyd hym~ to ride
In to a lond there be-syde,
Antioche it hight.
Sevyn~ yere at the Cite he lay
And had bateƚƚ euery good ffryday,
Vppon~ the Sarȝins bryght;
And be the VII yere were gone,
The child, that the liberd had tane,
Found hym his fiƚƚ off ffyght . . . . . .

The kyng of Ierusalem~ herd teƚƚ
Of this lord good and feƚƚ,
How doughtyly he hym bare.
Vppon~ his knyghtes can he caƚƚ,
‘Ordeyn~ swith among you aƚƚ,
For no thing that ye spare!’
They buskyd hem oute of the land,
The nombre off ffyfty thousand,
Ageyn Torent ffor to ffare . . . .

The kyng of Ierusalem said thus:
‘My dere son, Liobertus,
That thou be bold and wight!
Thou shalt be here and defend the lond
From that fals traytors hond
And take the ordre of a knyght.’
He yaue hym armes, or he did passe:
Right as he ffound was,
On gold he bare bryght
A liberd of asure bla
A child be-twene his armes twa:
Woo was her, that se it myght!