Oon came prekyng owt of the prees, To fyr Emere evyn he chefe, But foone was fellyd hys pryde. Syr Emere reyfyd hys fpere on byght, And downe he felle that tyde. The emperowre of Rome lay on hys wall, And hys doghtur gent and small, Florence feyre and free; Sche feyde, Fadur, with mylde stevyn, To us ys comyn helpe fro hevyn, Fro god in magestè; Yondur ys a nobull knyght, That ftyrryth hym ftyfly in the fyght, Wyth the whyte dowve and the blak lyon, Helpe that he rescowde bee. 470 480 The emperowre calde fyr Egravayne, 4.90 Armed well and ryght, A hundurd men with them he toke, Up they lepe, fo feyth the boke, On ftedys ftronge and wyght. All that were lefte onslayne, Fledd unto ther strenkyth agayne, Hyt was a femely syght. Then fwere Garcy, in full grete yre, That he wolde brenne all Rome with fyre, On the morne yf that he myght. Then fyr Mylys and fyr Emere, Come the emperowre beforne; They falutyd hym full ryally, Owre fadur hys lyfe hath lorne, As fowdears, yf mystyr bee; We speke hyt not in skorne. God, and feynt Petur of Rome, The emperowre can fey; 500 510 Sche thoght hym a full curtes knyght, Syr Mylys feyde the emperowre too, And ye wolde at my councell doo, Ye fchoulde not fyght in fylde, But close the yatys, and the brygges up drawe, And kepe us clene owt of ther awe, And owre wepons wyghtly welde: And kepe the town bothe nyght and day, Tyl they be wery and wende away: Syr Emere hym behelde. Emere feyde Mylys unto, So myght a fympull grome do, Kepe an holde wythynne; 530 540 But we wyll manly to the felde, And fyr Garcy batell yelde, To morne or that we blynne. Then they made crye thorow the cytè, But folowe the standard wher hyt goys, Than fyr Garcy, wyth mekyll pryde, Amonge the barons bolde; The kynge of Turkay he seyde than, And fayleste wyt for elde; Syr Otes the graunt hath noght gylte, For hym that all fchall welde; Nay he warnyd me hys doghtur fchene, A Roman ftode befyde and harde, And tolde the emperowre; 550 560 The maydyn mylde up sche rafe, With knyghtes and ladyes feyre of face, And wente unto a towre. There fche fawe ryght in the feldys Baners brode and bryght scheldys Of chevalry the flowre, They nowmberde them forty thousand men, And a hundurd moo then hur fadur had then, That were ryght ftyffe in ftowre. Allas! feyde that maydyn clere, And y but a fympull woman! The terys on hur chekys ranne, "Put me owt to olde Garcy, Yf all thes men fchulde for me dye, Hyt were a dolefull wrake." Hur fadur feyde hyt fchulde not bee; And foone hys fwyrde can take. He lepe on hys ftede Bandynere, And rode abowte all nyght. 570 580 |