They put Clarebalde in a whelebarowe, That ftrong thefe, be ftretys narowe, Had no fote on to goo. Sche feyde, Ye that wyll be hale, And holly broght owt of yowre bale Of that ye are ynne, Ye muft schryve yow openlye, And that wyth a full lowde crye, To all that be here bothe more and mynne. That they thoght full lothe to doo, Mylys feyde, Syth hyt mufte be foo, Soone fchall y begynne. I lykyd never wele, day nor nyght, From kythe and all hur kynne. Than he feyde to them verament, And tolde them to the lafte; And that he wolde have be emperowre, And weddyd the lady whyte as flowre, And all hys falfe, cafte; And fythe awey he can hur lede, 2040 2050 "For y wolde have refte fro hur hur maydynhede, That fche defendyd faste. I had never wyth hur to doo, For y myght not wynne hur to, But clene fro me fche paste :" And fythyn he tolde them of the barley bredd, And hangyd hur up be the hare: "Then y fye men and howndys bathe, And to the wode y went for wrathe." There Tyrry gaf anfware: Then came y and toke hur downe, Sche flewe Betres my doghtur fchene, That fchulde my ryght heyre have bene, And yyt let y hur fare; For fche was fo bryght of blee, And fo femely on to fee, Therfore let y hur goo. Then Machary, for he mufte nede, "Sche dyd me oonys an evyll dede, My harte was wondur throo. When y wolde have leyn hur by, My for tethe fmote fche owt for thy, That wakenyd all my woo; 2060 2070 I flewe Betres wyth a knyfe, For y wolde fche had lofte hur lyfe, 2080 Trewly hyt was foo." Then Tyrry farde as he wolde wede, And feyde, Falfe traytur, dyd thou that dede? Then wepyd dame Eglantyne, And feyde, Allas that we came here, Thys falfe traytur for to fere, That wroght us all thys pyne, Yyt y am warfe for that feyre maye And a rope abowte hals myne; Fro the galowfe fche borowed me, And ferve hur to hur paye. We were togedur but oon nyght, At the fee y folde that bryght, On the feconde day. Then fpake the maryner that hur boght, Soone fche feyde me naye; 2090 2100 Sche brake my schypp wyth a tempefte, Upon an ore to loude y wanne, And odur folke full feele. Hur own lorde, alther laste, The venome brafte owt of hys ere. Hys herte was full throo. He made to make a grete fyre, And cafte them yn wyth all ther tyre, Then was the lady woo. The emperowre toke dame Eglantyne, And to the halle can goo, 2110 2120 They looveyd god, leffe and more, That they had fownde the lady thore, That longe had be them froo. Soche a fefte as there was oon, 2130 In that lande was never noon, And all ther golde, wythowt lefynge, But unnethys that that myght them home brynge, And thankyd them for that gente. Florence feyde, Syr, wyth yowre leeve, Tyrrye fome thynge mufte yow geve, That me my lyfe hath lente. He gaf hym the cyté of Florawnce. And bad hym holde hyt wythowt dystawnce: 2140 They toke ther leve and wente. Tyrrye wente home to hys cuntrè, And the emperowr to Rome hys ryche cytè, As faite as evyr they maye. When the pope harde telle of ther comyng, He went agayne them wythowt lefynge, In full ryall arraye. Cardynals were fomned be ther names, The certen fothe to faye; 2150 |