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The Grekys had fyred hym abowte,
That he myght on no fyde oute,

But styffely can he stande.
He rescowde hym full knyghtly;
Many a doghty made he toi dye,

That he abowte hym fande;
Evyll quytt he hym hys mede,
For Mylys was the falsyst lede

That evyr levyd in lande.
When he had resçowde hys broder Mylon,
Of hys fomen camen thretty bowne,

Stelyng on hym stylle ; .
All ther sperys on hym they sett,
He drewe hys swyrde, wythowten let,

And Mylys fledde to an hylle.
He seyde, Brodur, al so mote y thie,
Thou schalt not be rescowde for me,

Loke whedur that he dud ylle.
But stryked yn at a nodur ftowre,
And mett hys lorde the emperowre,

Layeng on wyth gode wylle.



Mylys, he seyde, where ys thy brodur ?
At the devyll, quod the todur, '

I trowe beste that he bee.

He ys belefte wyth syr Garcy
Ageyn yow, he tolde me why,

He myght geve more then ye.
Be god, he feyde, that all may,
He ys false, that dare y lay,

Trewly trowe ye me.
The emperowre lykyd hyt ylle,
And leyde upon with gode wylle,

Tyll he myght the fothe see;


Forthe then lokyd the emperowre,
And fäwe fyr Emere in a ftowre,

Fyghtyng agenste hys foys ;
He stroke the stede with the spurrys,
He spared nodur rygge nor forows,

But evyn to bym he goys;
All that he abowte hym fonde
He and hys men broght to grownde,

That nevyr oon up rose;
And there was Mylys prevyd false,
Wyth hym and odur lordys alse,

And lofte all hys gode lose,


Than Emere toke harle hym too,
Full doghtely then can he doo,

Florence hym behelde,


And tolde hur maydyns bryght of ble,
In the felde beste doyth he,

Wyth the whyte dowve yn hys schylde,
And therto the black lyoun.
Sche cryed to hym, wyth grete sowne,

Thou be my fadurs belde,
And thou schalt have all thy defyre,
Me, and all thys ryche empyre,

Aftur my fadur to welde.

When he harde thè maydyn bryght,
Hys hedd he iyfte upon hyght,

The wedur waxe full hate;.
Hur fadur nere hande can talme,
Soche a sweme hys harte can swalme,

770 · For hete he waxe nere mate. When that they had so done, A quarell came fleyng soone,

And thorow the hed hym smate, They fende aftur the pope Symonde, And he schrofe hym and hofelde on that grounde,

And assoyled hym, wel y wate.

As soone as the emperowre yyldyd the gast,
A prowde garson came in haste,
Syr Synagotë hyght hee,



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And broght an hundurd helmes bryght
Of hardy men that cowde well fyght,

Of felde wolde never oon flee.
Emere stroke in to that stowre,
And many oon made he for to cowre,

And flewe them be two and thre;
Soone thereaftur was he tane,
And knyghtes kene wolde hym have llayne,

But ther fovereygn bad let bee,

“ Unto fyr Garcy have hym feen,

790 I trowe hys lyfe he wyll hym leen,

He ys so feyre a knyght.”
Leve we fyr Emere in the stowre,
And speke more of the emperowre,

How they on a bere hyin dyght,
And how they broght hym to the towne,
Wythowten belle or procescoun,

Hyt was a drery syght.
They layned hyt fro ther enmyes whyll they myght,
And fro Florence that worthy wyght,

Hys own dere doghtur bryght.


Soone the standard yn they dud lede,
And baners bryght that brode dud sprede,

The Romans lykyd ylle.

And seyde they schulde upon the morne
Fyght wyth Garcy yf he had sworne,

That hyely was on hylle.
Florence lay in a cornell,
And hur maydyns, as y yow telle,

That was curtes of wylle;
They seyde men brynge yn a bere,
And that wyth a full mórnyng chere, ·

But all was hoscht and stylle.


Then can feyre Florence fayne,
Yondur ys be gonne an evyll bargayn,

Y see men brynge a bere, .
And a knyght in handys leede,
Bondynowre my fadurs stede,

Then all chawngyd hur chere.
Sche and hur maystres Awdygon
Went into the halle allone,

Allone wythuwten fere,
And caste up the clothe, then was hyt so,
The lady swowned, and was full woo,

Ther myght no man hur stere.

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- Allas, sche seyde, that y was borne ! My fadur for me hys lyfe hath lorne,

Garcy may have hys wylle,

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