But of the feyrenes of the maye

I can not telle mony a day,

Ne noght y wyll begynne,"

But, fir, he feyde, al fo mote y the,
Thyn eyen mon fche never fee,

To welde yyt nodur to wynne.

Full grete othys Garcy hath fworne:
"Many a thousand fchall dye therforne,
Or y of my brethe blynne;

Or thre monythys and a halfe be gone,
I fchall dystroye hys landys everychon,

And wynne hys doghtur with were.
Then he made to fende owt wryttes wyde,

In hys londe on every syde,

Mesfengerys can them bere ;

And Florence fadur at hame
Ordeygned hys men on the fame,

With armowre, fchylde, and fpere:
And thus begynneth a bale to brewe,
Many a man therfore myght rewe,

And wemen hyt dud grete dere.

Syxty thousand fembelde then
Of garfons, and of odur men
To Garcy in that stownde,

350

360

370

They set up feylys, and forthe they rode,
And ay hymfelfe, wythowten bode,

The formafte forthe can fownde.
Syxty myle fro Rome ryved they,
Hyt went nere on the thrydd day,
Ther was not oon drowned;
They tyght ther pavylons in a stede,
The brode felde waxe all redd,

So glemed golde on the grownde.

The medowe was called Narumpy,
The water of Tyber rennyng by,
There Garcyes pavylon ftode:
All the clothys were of fylke,
The ryche ropys were ryght fwylke,
The boofys were redd as blode.
Ther was no beest that yede on fote
But hyt was portreyed there, y wote,
Nor fyfches fwymmyng in flode;
Fyftene pomels of golde there fchoon,
An egyll and a charbokull ftone,

Wyde the lyghtnes yode.

The emperowre of Rome lay on his walle,

And hys doghtur gente and small,

Florence the feyre fche hyght;

380

390

And fye the garfons asfay ther stedys,
Sterne men in ftele wedys,

The medow all can lyght.

He feyde, Y have golde ynogh plentè,
And fowdears wyll come to me,

Bothe be day and nyght;

Now fchall y never my golde spare,

But fafte upon thys warre hyt ware,

God helpe me in my ryght.

The kynge of Hungary that tyme was dedd,
And lefte hys fonnes wylde of redd,

Syr Mylys and fyr Emere;

Ther modur was weddyd to a ftedd,

Agenfte all the baronage redd,

As ye fchall further here,
To a lorde that wonnyd thereby,
Syr Justamownde of Surry,

That fterne was to ftere..

The kynge of Naverne toke thes chyldur two,

And made them knyghtys bothe tho,

And manhode can them lere;

Tyll hyt felle oones on a day

They wente to a medowe to playe,'

To lerne them for to ryde:

400

410

420

Syr Emere bare in hys fchylde

A whyte dowve, whofo behelde,
A blakk lyon befyde':
The whyte dowve sygnyfyed

That he was full of knyghthedd,
And mekenes, at that tyde;

The lyon, that he was ferfe and felle,
Amonge hys enmyes for to dwelle,

And durfte befte in batell byde.

A wery palmer came them by,

And feyde, Syrrys, y have ferly
That ye wyll not fare."

I have bene at grete Rome,

To feke feynte Petur, and thens y come,
Straunge tythyngys harde y thare.

Ther ys an emperowre, that hyght Garcy,

Is logyd in the Narumpy,

Wyth fyxty thoufande and mare,

430

He feyth the emperowre of Rome schall not leve

But yf he to hym hys doghtur geve,

That ys fo fwete of fware.

Than fyr Mylys, and fir Emere,

Toke wyth them forty in fere,

That were comyn of gentyll kynne,

440

To grete Rome evyn they rode,

And at a burges hows abode,

And there they toke ther ynne.

They fperyd of ther ofte and ther oftès,

Of ther tythyngys more and leffe,

Or evyr they wolde blynne.

They fownde hyt as the palmer tolde,

They feyde with Otes dwelle, they wolde,
Whedur hyt were to lose or wynne.

Fyve thousande on the morne Garcy sent
Of hys men verament,

Wele arayed in ther gere;

As nere as they durfte for dowte,

Fyfty of them ysfewed owte,

For to jufte in werre.

That fawe fyr Mylys and Emere,
Wyth ther ferys bothe in fere,

They thoght them for to feere;
They pafsyd owt at a posterne,

Os men that schoulde of batayle lerne,
Wyth armowre fchylde and spere.

Thes fyfty had forjusted foone,

And flewe them down withowten mone,

All that wolde abyde;

450

460