Horn faft after him gan ride, And ay fchal while we mete: And now be min robes riven, Of alle this seven yere ; Y go to feke after him ay, Til that we mete yfere. The kinges douhter dere; Mani fides fchuld be bibled Er he bring hir to his bed Yif Horn in lond were. Wiard fchaltow calle me, Tel me thi name. Thi knave wald y fain be That fair feft forto se, Me thenke thatow haft nane. Horn answerd him oyain, Ich hat Horn is nought to lain, Five thoufende fchal be flain. Wiard, oyain schaltow ride And y wil to court gon, Bring hem under yon wode-fide, The way thou canft hem lede; When Horn fro fer herd glewe, With tabournes bete, and trumpes blewe, Oyaines hem he yede; Muging king ful wele he knewe, Oyain he held his stede. Wikard com, and smot him fo, Horn ful trewely hath him hight, A box fchal ben his mede. Mojoun king was ful wo, That he had fmiten the pover man fo, And feyd, Lat mi bridel be. Blethelich yeve i the. Porter,' quath Horn, thatow wilt* That is fo fair and fre. The king was wroth, and rewe his yift, Horn feyd, Y fett a nett o time, Of al this seven yere, No fchal it never more be mine, And yif it hath ytaken nought, And be me leve and dere. Thus thai went alle y fame Of beggers mo than fexti, And afke the the mete, When folk is gon to sete; *The MS. evidently reads Peter; for what reafon cannot be conceive'd. Kokes hadde the mete grayd, The bord was fett, the cloth was layd, To benche yede tho bold; The trompes blewe,' the glewemen pleyd, The bifchopes had the grace yfeyd, As muri men of mold. Ther was many a riche man, Mete and drink wel gode wan To alle that ete wolde; Horn fat, and litel ete, Michel he thought, and more he speke, For fole men fchuld him hold. Than was the lawe, sothe to say, Serven atté mete; Hendelich than ferved scho, Horn bigan to fpeke. Thou no oughteft hem nought foryete, And feththen the knightes schul turnay, For to loke who so may The maistri of hem yete. Forth fche went, that maiden fre, To that beggere: "For Hornes love y pray the Of the coppe he drank the wine, Bitokening lo it here. "A fely man, the threstes fare, |