The Greky's had fyred hym abowte,

That he myght on no fyde owte,
But ftyffely can he stande.
He rescowde hym full knyghtly;
Many a doghty made he to dye,
That he abowte hym fande;

Evyll quytt he hym hys mede,

For Mylys was the falfyft lede

That evyr levyd in lande.

When he had rescowde hys broder Mylon,

Of hys fomen camen thretty bowne,

Stelyng on hym stylle;

All ther sperys on hym they fett,
He drewe hys fwyrde, wythowten let,

And Mylys fledde to an hylle.

He feyde, Brodur, al fo mote y the,
Thou fchalt not be rescowde for me,
Loke whedur that he dud ylle.
But ftryked yn at a nodur ftowre,
And mett hys lorde the emperowre,
Layeng on wyth gode wylle.

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

I trowe befte that he bee.

720

730

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

He myght geve more then ye.
Be god, he feyde, that all may,
He ys falfe, that dare y lay,
Trewly trowe ye me.

The emperowre lykyd hyt ylle,
And leyde upon with gode wylle,
Tyll he myght the fothe fee;

Forthe then lokyd the emperowre,
And fawe fyr Emere in a stowre,
Fyghtyng agenfte hys foys;

He ftroke the stede with the spurrys,
He fpared nodur rygge nor forows,
But evyn to hym he goys;

All that he abowte hym fonde

He and hys men broght to grownde,

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

And lofte all hys gode lofe,

Than Emere toke harte hym too,

Full doghtely then can he doo,

Florence hym behelde,

740

750

And tolde hur maydyns bryght of ble,

In the felde befte doyth he,

Wyth the whyte dowve yn hys fchylde, And therto the black lyoun.

Sche cryed to hym, wyth grete fowne,

Thou be my fadurs belde,

And thou fchalt have all thy defyre,

Me, and all thys ryche empyre,
Aftur my fadur to welde.

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

The wedur waxe full hate;

760

Hur fadur nere hande can talme,

Soche a fweme hys harte can fwalme,

770

For hete he waxe nere mate.
When that they had fo done,
A quarell came fleyng foone,

And thorow the hed hym fmate,

They fende aftur the pope Symonde,

And he fchrofe hym and hofelde on that grounde, And asfoyled hym, wel y wate.

As foone as the emperowre yyldyd the gaft,

A prowde garfon came in haste,

Syr Synagote hyght hee,

780

And broght an hundurd helmes bryght
Of hardy men that cowde well fyght,
Of felde wolde never oon flee.
Emere ftroke in to that ftowre,

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 slayne,
But ther fovereygn bad let bee,

"Unto fyr Garcy have hym feen,
I trowe hys lyfe he wyll hym leen,
He ys fo feyre a knyght."
Leve we fyr Emere in the stowre,
And fpeke more of the emperowre,

How they on a bere hym dyght,
And how they broght hym to the towne,

Wythowten belle or procefcoun,

Hyt was a drery syght.

790

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 fprede,

The Romans lykyd ylle.

800

And feyde they schulde upon the morne
Fyght wyth Garcy yf he had fworne,

That hyely was on hylle.
Florence lay in a cornell,

And hur maydyns, as y yow telle,

That was curtes of wylle;

810

They feyde men brynge yn a bere,

And that wyth a full mornyng chere,

But all was hofcht and stylle.

Then can feyre Florence fayne,
Yondur ys be gonne an evyll bargayn,
Y fee men brynge a bere,

And a knyght in handys leede,
Bondynowre my fadurs ftede,

Then all chawngyd hur chere.

Sche and hur maystres Awdygon

Went into the halle allone,

Allone wythowten fere,

And cafte up the clothe, then was hyt fo,

The lady fwowned, and was full woo,

Ther myght no man hur ftere.

Allas, fche feyde, that y was borne!
My fadur for me hys lyfe hath lorne,
Garcy may have hys wylle,

820