Part VI: Stanzas 196–232

Sir Torent wold no lenger abyde,
But thederward gan~ he ride;
And to the feld were brought
Two knyghtes, that were there in stede;
Many a man did they to blede,
Such woundis they wrought.
There durst no man com~ Torent nere,
But his son, as ye may here,
Though he knew hym nought.
Aƚƚ to nought he bet his shild,
But he toke his fader in the feld,
Though he there of eviƚƚ thought.

Whan~ sir Torent was takyn~ than~,
His men fled than~, euery man~,
They durst no lenger abyde.
Gret ruth it was to be hold,
How his sword he did vp-hold
To his son~ that tyde.
To Ierusalem~ he did hym~ lede,
His actone and his other wede,
Aƚƚ be the kyngis side;
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘haue no care,
Thou shalte lyve and welfare,
But lower ys thy pryde!’

Fro that sir Torent was hom brought,
Doughty men~ vppon~ hym~ sought,
And in preson~ they hym~ thronge.
His son above his hede lay,
To kepe hym~ both nyȝt and day,
He wist weƚƚ, that he was strong.
Thus in preson as he was,
Sore he siȝed and said alas,
He couth none other songe.
Thus in bondys they held hym thare
A twelfmonyth and som dele mare,
The knyght thought ffuƚƚ long.

In a mornyng as he lay,
To hym selfe gan~ he say:
‘Why lye I thus alone?
God, hast thou forsakyn~ me?
Aƚƚ my truste was in the,
In lond where I haue gone!
Thou gave me myȝt ffor to slee
Dragons two other thre
And giauntes meny one,
And now a man~ in wekid lond
Hath myn~ armour and stede in~ hond:
I wold, my liffe were done!’

His son herd hym~ say soo
And in his hert was fuƚƚ woo,
In chamber there he lay;
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I haue thy wede,
There shaƚƚ no man reioyse thy stede,
Yf so be, that I may.
By oure lady seynt Mary,
Here shalt thou no lenger lye,
Nether be nyȝt~ ne be day;
As I am~ Curtesse and hend,
To the kyng I shaƚƚ wend,
And ffor thy love hym pray!’

On~ the morow whan~ he Rose,
The prynce to the kyng gose
And knelid vppon~ his knee;
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘ffor goddus sonne,
The knyght, that lieth in the dungeon~,
Ye wold graunt hym~ me!
I hard hym say be hym~ alone,
Many Geauntes had he slone
And dragons II or thre.’
The kyng said: ‘Be my ffay,
Be warr~, he scape not away;
I vouch hym saue on the!’

The prynce in to the preson went,
Torent by the hond he hent
Oute of his bondys cold;
To the casteƚƚ he brought hym sone
And light ffettouris did hym~ vppon~,
For brekyng oute off hold.
The kyng said: ‘Be my ffaye,
And he euer scape away,
Fuƚƚ dere he shaƚƚ be sold!’
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘parmaffay,
We wyƚƚ hym~ kepe, and we may:
There of be ye bold!’

For he was curtes knyght & free,
At the mete sett was he
By the kyng at the deyse.
‘Sir, thou haste i-bene
At Iustis and at tornementes kene,
Both in warr~ and in peas:
Sith thy dwelling shaƚƚ be here,
I pray, that thou woldist my son~ lere,
Hys Tymber ffor to asay.’
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I vnderstond,
Affter the maner off my lond
I shaƚƚ, with outen delay.’

The casteƚƚ court was large with in~,
They made ryngis ffor to Ren~,
None but they alone.
Euery of hem to oþure Rade:
Feyrer Turnamentes than they made,
Men sye never none.
The prynce in armes was fuƚƚ preste,
Thre shaftys on~ his fader he breste,
In shevers they gan gone.
Sir Torent said: ‘So mvt I thee,
A man of armes shaƚƚ thou be,
Stalworth of blood and bone!’

Harroldys of armes cryed on~ hight,
The prynce and that other knyght
No more juste shaƚƚ thay;
But lordys of other lond,
Euery one to other ffond,
And sith went theyre way.
Sixe wekys he dwellid there,
Tiƚƚ that aƚƚ delyuerd were,
That in the Cite lay.
Tho they held a gestonye,
With aƚƚ maner of mynstralsye,
Tyƚƚ the Sevynth day.

Lordis with aƚƚ other thing
Toke leve at the kyng,
Home theyre ways to passe.
That tyme they yaue Torent the floure
And the gre with moch honowre,
As he weƚƚ worthy was.
The kyng said: ‘I shaƚƚ the yeve
Liffe and lyvelode, whiƚƚ I lyve,
Thyn armour, as it was.’
Whan he sye ffeyre ladyes wend,
He thought on her, that was so hend,
And sighed and said: ‘Alas!’

The kyng of Naȝareth home went,
There that his lady lent,
In his own~ lede.
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘ffor goddus pite,
What gentilman~ wan~ the gre?’
He said, ‘So god me spede,
One of the ffeyrest knyghtis,
That slepith on~ somer nyghtes
Or walkyd in wede;
He is so large of lym~ and lith,
Aƚƚ the world he hath justid with,
That come to that dede.’

‘Good lord,’ said Desoneƚƚ,
‘For goddus love ye me teƚƚ,
What armes that he bare!’
‘Damyseƚƚ, also muste I the,
Syluer and asure beryth he,
That wott I weƚƚ thare.
His Creste is a noble lond,
A Gyaunt with an~ hoke in~ hond,
This wott I weƚƚ, he bare.
He is so stiff at euery stoure,
He is prynce and victoure,
He wynneth the gree aye where.

Of Portyngale a knyght he ys,
He wanne the town~ of Raynes
And the Cite of Quarelle;
At the last jurney that was sett,
The prynce, my broders son~ he mett,
And in his hond he ffeƚƚ.
The prynce of Grece leth nere
There may no juster be his pere,
For soth as I you teƚƚ:
A dede of armes I shaƚƚ do crye
And send after hym~ in hye.’
Blith was Desoneƚƚ.

This dede was cried ffar and nere,
The kyng of Ierusalem did it here,
In what lond that it shold be.
He said: ‘Sone, anon right
Dight the and thy cryston~ knyght,
For sothe, theder wiƚƚ we.’
Gret lordys, that herith this crye,
Theder come richely,
Everyman~ in his degre.
The kyng of Grece did make hym boun,
With hym~ come Antony ffyȝ greffon~,
With moche solempnite . . . . . . .

‘The kyng of Naȝareth sent me,
That there shold a justynge be
Of meny a cryston~ knyght,
And aƚƚ is ffor a lady clere,
That the justyng is cryed ffar and nere,
Of men~ of armes bryght.’
Gret joye it was to here teƚƚ,
How thes kynges with the knyghtis feƚƚ
Come and semled to that ffyght.

There come meny another mon~,
That thought there to haue to done,
And than~ to wend her way.
Whan~ they come to the casteƚƚ gent,
A Roaƚƚ ffyght, verament,
There was, the sothe to say.
Trompes resyn~ on the waƚƚ,
Lordys assembled in the haƚƚ,
And sith to souper yede thay.
They were recevid with rialte,
Euery man~ in his degre,
And to her logyng went her way.

The lordys Rosyn aƚƚ be-dene
On the morow, as I wene,
And went masse ffor to here.
And ffurthermore with-oute lent
They wesh and to mete went,
For to the ffeld they wold there.
After mete anon~ right
They axid hors and armes bryght,
To hors-bak went thay in ffere.
Knyghtis and lordys reuelid aƚƚ,
And ladyes lay ouer the casteƚƚ waƚƚ,
That semely to se were.

Than~ eueryman toke spere in~ hond,
And euerych to other ffond,
Smert boffettes there they yeld.
The prynce of Ierusalem~ and his brother,
Eueriche of hem~ Ran to other~
Smertely in the feld . . . . . . . .
Though~ Antony ffygryffon~ yonger were,
His brother Leobertus he can down~ bere;
Sir Torent stode and be-held.

‘Be my trouth,’ said Torent thanne,
‘As I am~ a cryston~ man
I-quytt shaƚƚ it be.’
Torent be-strode a stede strong
And hent a tymber gret and long,
And to hym~ rode he.

Torrent to hym rode so sore,
That he to the ground hym~ bare,
And let hym~ lye in~ the bent.
There was no man~ hyȝe ne lowe,
That myght make Torent to bowe
Ne his bak to bend.
They justyd and turneyd there,
And eueryman~ ffound his pere,
There was caught no dethis dent.
Of aƚƚ the Justis, that there ware,
Torent the floure a way bare
And his sonnys, verament.

And on~ the morow, whan~ it was day,
Amonge aƚƚ the lordys gay,
That worthy were, par de,
Desoneƚƚ wold no lenger lend,
But to sir Torent gan~ she wend
And knelid on her kne.
She said: ‘Welcom~, my lord sir Torent!’
‘And so be ye, my lady gent!’
In sownyng than feƚƚ she.
Vp they coueryd that lady hend,
And to mete did they wend
With joye and solempnite.

Dame Desoneƚƚ be-sought the kyng.
That she myght, with oute lesyng,
Sytt with Torent alone.
‘Yes, lady, be hevyn~ kyng,
There shaƚƚ be no lettyng;
Worthy is he, be seynt Iohn~!’
Tho they washid and went to mete,
And rially they were sett
And seruid worthely, echone.
Euery lord in~ the haƚƚ,
As his state wold be-ffaƚƚ,
Were couplid with ladyes schone.

But of aƚƚ ladyes, that were there sene,
So ffeire myght there none bene
As was dame Desoneƚƚ. . . . . . . .
Thes two kyngis, that doughty ys,
To the Cite come, i-wys,
With moche meyne emell.

To the casteƚƚ they toke the way,
There the kyng of Naȝareth lay,
With hym~ to speke on high~.
At none the quene ete in~ the haƚƚ,
Amongist the ladyes ouer aƚƚ,
That couth moche curtesye.
Desoneƚƚ wold not lett,
By sir Torent she her sett,
There of they had envye . . . . . .

Whan~ eyther of hem other be-held,
Off care no thyng they ffeld,
Bothe her hertes were blithe.
Gret lordys told she sone,
What poyntes he had for her done,
They be-gan to be blithe;
And how her fader in the see did her do,
With her she had men~ childre two;
They waried hym~ feƚƚ sithe.
‘Sir kyng, in this wildernes,
My two children~ fro me revid wes,
I may no lenger hem~ hide.

‘The knyght yaue me rynges two,
Euerich of hem~ had one of thoo,
Better saw I never none.
A Gryffon~ bare the one away,
A liberd the other, parmaffay,
Down~ by a Roche of stone.’
Than~ said the kyng of Ierusalem~:
‘I ffound one by a water streme,
He levith with blood & bone.’
The kyng of Grece said: ‘My brother,
Antony my son~ brought me anoþure.’
She saith: ‘Soth, be seynt Iohn~?’

The kyng said: ‘Sith it is so,
Kys ye youre fader bo,
And axe hym~ his blessyng!’
Down~ they knelid on~ her knee:
‘Thy blessing, ffader, for charite!’
‘Welcom~, children~ ying!’
Thus in armes he hem~ hent,
A blither man~ than~ sir Torent
Was there none levyng;
It was no wonder, thouȝe it so were;
He had his wiffe and his children~ there,
His joye be-gan~ to spryng.

Of aƚƚ the justis, that were thare,
A way the gre his sonnys bare,
That doughty were in dede.
Torent knelid vppon~ his knee
And said: ‘God yeld you, lordys ffree,
Thes children~ that ye haue ffed:
Euer we wiƚƚ be at youre wiƚƚ,
What jurney ye wiƚƚ put vs tyƚƚ,
So Iesu be oure spede,
With that the kyng thre
In to my lond wiƚƚ wend with me,
For to wreke oure stede.’

They graunted that there was,
Gret lordys more and lesse,
Bothe knyght and squiere;
And with Desoneƚƚ went
Al the ladyes, that were gent,
That of valew were.
Shippis had they stiff and strong,
Maistis gret and sayles long,
Hend, as ye may here,
And markyd in to Portingale,
Whan~ they had pullid vp her sayƚƚ,
With a wynd so clere.

The riche quene of that lond
In her casteƚƚ toure gan stond
And be-held in~-to the see.
‘Sone,’ she said to a knyght,
‘Yonder of shippis I haue a sight,
For sothe, a grett meyne.’
The quene said: ‘Verament,
I se the armes of sir Torent,
I wott weƚƚ, it is he.’
He answerid and said tho:
‘Madam, I wiƚƚ, that it be so,
God gefe grace, that it so be!’

A blither lady myȝt none be,
She went ageyn hym~ to the see
With armed knyghtes kene.
Torent she toke by the hond:
‘Lordys of vncouth lond,
Welcom muste ye bene!’
Whan she sye Desoneƚƚ,
Swith in~ sownyng she feƚƚ
To the ground so grene.
Torent gan~ her vp ta:
‘Here bene her children~ twa,
On lyve thou shalt hem seene!’

In the Casteƚƚ of Portyngale
A-Rose trumpes of hede vale,
To mete they went on~ hye.
He sent letters ffar and nere;
The lordys, that of valew were,
They come to that gestonye.
The Emperoure of Rome,
To that gestonye he come,
A noble knyght on~ hyȝe.
Whan~ aƚƚ thes lordys com were,
Torrent weddid that lady clere,
A justyng did he crye.

So it ffeƚƚ vppon a day,
The kyng of Ierusalem~ gan say:
‘Sir, thy sonne I ffound
Lying in a libertes mouth,
And no good he ne couth,
Dede he was nere hond:
Wold thou, that he dwellid with me,
Tiƚƚ that I dede be,
And sith reioyse my lond?’ . . . . . .

Be fore lordys of gret renown~,
Torent gaue hym~ his son~ . . . . . . . .
The kyng of Grece said: ‘Sir knyght,
I yeff thy son aƚƚ my right
To the Grekys flood:
Wouch thou saue, he dweƚƚ with me?’
‘Yea, Lord, so mut I thee,
God yeld you aƚƚ this good!’
For sir Torent was stiff in stoure,
They chose hym ffor Emperoure,
Beste of bone and blood.

Gret lordys, that there were,
Fourty days dwellith there,
And sith they yode her way;
He yaue his sonnys, as ye may here,
Two swerdys, that were hym~ dere,
Ech of hem~ one had they.
Sith he did make vp-tyed
Chirchus and abbeys wyde,
For hym~ and his to praye.
In Rome this Romans berith the crown~
Of aƚƚ kerpyng of Renown~:
He leyth in a feire abbey.

Now Iesu Cryst, that aƚƚ hath wrought,
As he on the Rode vs bought,
He geve hvs his blessing,
And as he died for you and me,
He graunt vs in blis to be,
Lesse and mare, both old and ying! Amen.