henge full of belles And his peytrell and his arsowne Thre myle men myght here the sowne His mare nyghed his belles dyde rynge For grete pryde without lesynge Afaucon brode in honde he bare For he thought he wolde thare Haue slayne Rycharde with treasowne Whan his colte sholde knele downe As a colte sholde souke his dame And he was ware of that shame His ere 's with wexe were stopped faste Therfore Rycharde was not agaste He stroke the fende that vnder hym wente And gaue the sowdan his deth with a dente In his shelde verament Was paynted a serpent With the spere that Rycharde helde He bare hym thorugh vnder his shelde None of his armure myght hym laste Brydell and peytrell all to braste His gyrthes and his steropes also His mare to grounde wente tho Maugre her heed he made her seche The grounde without more speche His fete towarde the fyrmament Behynde hym the spere out went There he fell deed on the grene Rycharde smote the fende with spores kene And in the name of the holy goost He dryueth in to the hethen hoost And as soone as he was come Asonder he brake the sheltrone And all that euer afore hym stode Hors and man to the grounde yode Twenty fote on eyther syde All that he ouertoke that tyde On lyue was there lefte none Thorugh out he made his hors gone As bees swarme out of hyues The crysten men hym after dryues And cryed than slee downe ryght Bothe sowdans kynges and knyght Whan the kynge of fraunce wyste his men That the maystry had the crysten They wexed bolde and good herte toke Stedes bestrode and shaftes shoke The kynge of fraunce with a spere An hethen kynge gan downe bere And other erles and barownes Noble men of grete renownes Slewe the sarasynes downe ryght Of englonde many a noble knyght Wrought full well that daye Of salysbury the longe spaye To grounde he felde with his bronde And tho that he before fonde Nexte kynge Rycharde euer he was And of multon syr Thomas Fouke doly Roberte of leycester In the worlde was not theyr better Where that ony of them come They spared nother swayne ne grome That they ne felde all a downe The sarasynes sledde in to the towne For grete sorowe that they seen The teres ranne out of theyr eyen And swythe mercy they cryde And soone they opened the gates wyde And let them in at theyr wyll come The crysten than the cyte nome Anone hastely therwithall They set baners on the wall The kynges armes of englonde Whan Salandyn gan to vnderstonde That the cyte yelded was He gan to crye and sayd alas The pryse of hethenes is I done And tho began to flee full soone With hym many a baron and knyght But kynge Rycharde that was wyght Whan he sawe the sowdan flye Abyde cowarde he sayd on hye And I shall the preue false And thy cursed goddes alse Kynge Rycharde dryued after hym faste The sowdan was sore agaste A grete wood before hym he sawe Theder in a grete haste he flawe Rycharde wente the wood nere He douted of encombrere He myght not in for his tre Sone he tourned his horse eye With that he mette a hethen kynge His axe he drewe out of his rynge And he hytte hym on the creste That his lyfe no lenger laste Another he raught vpon the shelde The heed flewe in to the felde Syxe he slewe of bethen kynges To tell the sothe in all thynges In his geste as I fynde More than twenty thousynde Of emty stedes aboute yode Vp to the fote lakes in blode All a straye aboute they yede What man wolde myght ryde That batayll lasted tyll it was nyght But whan they had slayne downe ryght The sarasynes that they myght take Grete Ioye the crysten dyde make They kneled and thanked god in heuen And worshypped his names seuen On bothe sydes were folkes Islawe But the nombre of the hethen lawe That laye deed vpon the felde To god they gan theyr soules yelde There were slayne hondredes thre And of the sarasynes more plente An hondred thousande and yet mo Lo suche grace god sente tho The crysten in to the cyte gone Of golde syluer precyous stone They founde Inowe without fayle Mete and drynke and other vytayle On the morowe whan the kynge arose His dedes were ryche and his lose The sarasynes before hym come And asked hym crystendome There were crysted as I fynde More than twenty thousynde Chyrches he let make of crystes lawe And theyr maumettes all to drawe And tho that wolde not crysten become They were slayne all and some And departed that tresour Amonge crysten with honour Erle baron knyght and knaue Had as moche as they wolde haue Whan this was done I you saye He let his colte vanysshee awaye ¶ How kynge Rycharde and the kynge of fraunce were wrothe togyder / and how the kynge of frauÌ„ wente home to his londe THere they dwelled fourtenyght And afterwarde they them nyght Towarde Iherusalem they gan ryde Kynge Phelyp spake a worde of pryâ—e Iherusalem that fayre cyte That is so fayre and so fre Though thou it wynne it shall be myn By god sayd Rycharde by saynt martyn And as god do my soâ—ue bore Of my wynnynge not halfe a fote I ne shall gyue the no londe I do the well to vnderstonde If thou wylte it haue he sayd then Go now forth wynne it with thy men Myn offrynge quod Rycharde lo it heâ—â— I wyll come Iherusalem no nere And in an arblaste of vyse he benâ—â— A floryn towarde the cyte he sense And that was sygnyfyaunce Ihesu cryste to honouraunce For wrathe became seke the kynge of fraunce His leches he sente after without dystaunce And they sayd neuer he sholde hole ben But he in to fraunce retourned ayen Than his counseyll vnderstode And sayd it was trewe and good Theyr shyppes they dyght more lasâ—â— And wente home at alhalowmasse Kynge Rycharde gan to hym crye And sayd he dyde grete vylanye To wende home for maladly Out of the londe of Surry Tyll done was goddes seruyse For lyfe or deth in ony wyse The kynge of fraunce none other wolde do But in that maner departed so And after that departynge forsoth Euer after they were wrothe ¶ How kynge Rycharde and his men made the walles of a cyte whiche hyght chalens / and how the duke of astryche departed frome hym / bycause of the rebuke he gaue hym bycause he wolde not doo as he dyde / and how kynge Rycharde wan the castell of daron NOw herken of Rycharde the kynge How he wrought with his gynge Kynge Rycharde wente his hoost To Iaffe without ony boost The kynges pauylyon good and fyne They gan dyght with a gryffyne Other lordes gan aboute sprede Theyr pauylyons in fayre mede Kynge Rycharde with his men all Of the cyte let make the wall That neuer was no sarasynes So stronge wrought with byches That castell was stronge
waxed ny wode Her kerchers she drewe and heer also Alas she sayd what shall I do She cratched her selfe in the vysage As a woman that was in a rage She fomed all on blode And rente her robe that she in stode And sayd alas that I was borne That thus my sone haue forlorne Lorde she sayd how may this be These knyghtes he sayd tolde it me Now tell the sothe the kynge sayd than In what maner saye ye this dede began And but ye the sothe sey An euyll deth shall ye dey The knyghtes called the Iaylere And badde he sholde stonde nere To bere wytnes of that sawe In what maner he was slawe The Iayler sayd yesterdaye at pryme Your sone came in an euyll tyme To the pryson dore to me And the palmers he wolde se And I fet them forth anone Rycharde formest gan gone Wardrewe asked without let If he wolde stonde hym a buffet And he hym wolde another stonde As he was trewe knyght in londe Rycharde sayd by this lyght Smyte on with all thy myght Rycharde had suche a stroke of Wardrewe That full nygh he hym ouerthrewe Rycharde he sayd now bydde I the To morowe another thou gyue me They departed in this wyse On the morowe Rycharde began to ryse And your sone anone came And Rycharde ayenst hym name As couenaunt was bytwene them twayne Rycharde smote the sothe to sayne Euen all a two his cheke bone That he fell deed as ony stone And as I am sworne to you here Thus it was in this manere The kynge sayd with eger wyll In pryson they shall be styll And fetters vpon theyr fete feste For this dede done vnwreste And for he hath my sone slawe He shall dye by ryght lawe The Iaylere yede as he was sent To do the kynges cōmaundement That daye ete they no mete Nor no drynke myght they gete The kynges doughter laye in her boure With ladyes and maydens of honoure Margery her name hyght She loked Rycharde with all her myght At the mydde daye before the none To the pryson she wente soone With her wente maydens thre Porter she sayd let me se The prysoners hastely Blythly he sayd sykerly He brought them forth anone ryght Fayre they grette that lady bryght And sayd to her with herte fre With vs lady what wyll ye Whan she sawe Rycharde with her eyen two Her loue she caste vpon hym tho She sayd Rycharde saue god aboue Of all thynge moost I the loue Alas quod Rycharde in that stounde With wronge I am brought to grounde I poore prysoner as ye may se What may my loue do to the This is the thyrde daye agone That mete nor drynke had I none The lady had of hym pyte Certes it shall amended be She commaunded the Iaylere Mete and drynke to fetche them there And the Irons frome them take I praye the for my sake ¶ Of the loue bytwene the kynges doughter and kynge Rycharde / and after how that kynge Rycharde slewe a lyon / and how he ete the herte of the lyon all rawe / wherfore he hadde the name / stronge kynge Rycharde cure de lyon ANd after souper in the euenynge To my chambre thou Rycharde brynge In the tyre of a squyere My selfe I shall kepe hym there By Ihesu cryst and by saynt Symon Thou shalte haue thy waryson The Iayler forgate it nought To her chambre he hym brought With that mayde he dwelled styll And played with her his wyll Tyll the seuenth daye sykerly He yede and came pryuely He was aspyed of a knyght That to the chambre he came ryght Pryuely he tolde the kynge That forlayne was his doughter yinge The kynge asked hym soone Who hath he sayd that dede done Rycharde he sayd that traytour He hath done you the dyshonour Syr he sayd by my crystendome I sawe whan he wente and come The kynge in herte syghed sore To hym spake he tho no more But swythe without fayle Sente after his counsayle Erles and barons and wyse clerkes For to counseyll hym of his werkes The messengers gan forth gone His counseyliours came anone By that it was the .xiiii. daye They were come as I you saye All at ones they grette the kynge Sothe to saye without lesynge He sayd lordes welcome be ye all He wente forth in to the hall Amonge them the kynge hym set I shall you tell without let Why I haue after you sente To gyue a traytour Iugement That hath done grete treason Kynge Rycharde that is in my pryson All he them tolde in his sawe How he had his sone I slawe And he were deed than were I fayne For he shall neuer home agayne And now it is ordeyned so Men shall no kynge to deth do To hym spake a bolde baron How came kynge Rycharde in your pryson He is holden so noble a kynge To hym dare no man do thynge The kynge tolde hym in all wyse How he hym founde and in what guyse And with hym other two barons Noble men of grete renouns I toke them through suspeccyon In this maner to my pryson He toke leue of them euerychone In to a chambre he bad them gone For to take theyr counsayle That them myght best auayle In theyr speche they dwelled thore Two dayes and somdele more And stroue as they were wode With grete errour with grete mode Some wolde hym hange and drawe And some sayd it was no lawe On this maner to slee a kynge They ne myght accorde for no thynge The wysest sayd verament We wyll gyue hym no Iugement Thus answered they the kynge Syr greue you no thynge For syr Eldrede forsothe Iwys He can you tell what best is For he is a wyse man of rede That many a man hath dampned to dede The kynge badde without lette That he were before hym fette He was brought before the kynge The whiche hym axed at his comynge Canst thou me tell in what manere On Rycharde that I auenged were He answered I tell the Theron I must auyse me Ye wote well it is no lawe A kynge to hange ne to drawe Therfore do by my reason Hastely take your lyon And with holde hym his mete Thre dayes that he none ete And Rycharde in a chambre do And put the lyon than hym to In this maner he shall be slawe Than doost thou not ayenst the lawe The lyon there shall hym sloo Than arte thou awreked of thy foo The mayde aspyed of that reasone And than bethought her soone And after hym soone she sent To warne hym of that Iugement Whan he to her chambre came than Welcome she sayd my lemman My lorde hath ordeyned thorugh rede The thyrde daye thou shalte be dede In to a chambre thou shalte be do And a lyon shall be put the to That shall haue honger sore Than wote I well thou lyuest no more But swete lemman sayd she thare Let vs out of this londe fare With golde and syluer moche mony I nought to spende than haue
Saylynge forwarde with the wynde And afterwarde fyfty galyes For to warde his nauyes And as the doughty kynge Rycharde Came saylynge to Acrys warde And had sayled with wynde at wyll Ten dayes fayre and styll The alleuenth daye they sayled in tempest That nyght ne daye had they no rest And as they were in auenture They a sawe dromonde without mesure The dromonde was so heuy of fraught Vnneth myght it sayle aught He was towarde the sarasynes Charged with corne and with wynes With wylde fyre and other vytayle Kynge Rycharde them sawe without fayle He bad one haast trenchmere And in a galey to wende them nere And axe whens that they were And what they haue in chafere Alyn quyckly and men I nowe To the dromonde gan rowe And asked whens they were And what they had in chafere Aborde stode vp theyr latemere And answered alyn trenchemere With the kynge of fraunce we be saunce fayle Frome poyle we brynge this vytayle A moneth we haue lyen in the see Towarde Acrys now wende we Wynde vp sayle quod alyn trenchemere And sayle we forth the wynde is clere Nay syr he sayd also I fynde We must nedes come behynde For we be so heuy I fraught Vnneth may we sayle naught Than sayd alyn soone anone I ne here of you speke but one But stonde ye vp all in fere That we myght mo of you here And knowe your token after than For we wyll not leue one man Certes quod the latemere With no mo spekest thou here They were to nyght in grete tempest And now they lye and take theyr rest Certes quod trenchemere alayne To kynge Rycharde than wyll I sayne That ye be all sarasynes Charged with golde and with wynes The sarasynes sterte vp all prest And sayd felowe go do thy best For kynge Rycharde and his galyes We wyll not gyue two flyes The trenchemere began to rowe harde Tyll he came to kynge Rycharde And swore to hym by saynt Ihone It were sarasynes euerychone That sayd our kynge of grete reuowne That hyght Rycharde cure de lyowne Of your sawes I am blythe Let eche man arme them swythe Stere thou thy galey trenchemere I wyll assayle that pantenere With myn axe I wyll them assayle Of sarasynes I wyll not fayle Anone his axe was to hym brought His other armes forgate he nought To hym came maryners I nowe Kynge Rycharde bad them fast rowe Now rowe on fast and who is faynte In euyll water mote he be draynte They rowed faste and layde to And songe heuenhowe rombylo The galey yede as fast As quarelles out of arblast And as the dromonde with the wynde A galey came saylynge behynde And smote hym swythe fast That the sterne all to brast The sarasynes were armed wele Bothe in Iren and in stele And stode aborde and fought harde Ayenst the doughty kynge Rycharde Kynge Rycharde and his knyghtes Slewe the sarasynes downe ryghtes And they began to wroke them wo Alwaye there stode vp mo and mo And rapped on them for the nones Stronge strokes for with harde stones Out of the toppe castell on hye That neuer was Rycharde his deth so nye Than came seuen galeys behynde To that dormonde faste saylynde Tho stode aborde baron and knyght To helpe kynge Rycharde for to fyght A stronge batayll there began then Bytwene them and the hethen men With swerdes speres and dartes kene Flones quarelles flewe bytwene As thycke without ony stynte As hayle after thunder dynte And in the bekerynge that was so harde In to the dromonde came kynge Rycharde Whan he was therin with grete haste He dressed his backe to the maste With his axe all that he raught Hastely the deth they caught Some he hytte on the bassyn That they all claue to the chyn And some to the gyrdell stede And some the to shyppes brede Some on the necke so hytte he That they flewe in ro these For none armure withstode his axe No more than a knyfe doth the waxe The sarasynes as I you tell Sayd he was the deuyll of hell And ouer borde than lepte they And drowned them selfe I you sey Syxtene hondred there were quelde But thyrty sarasynes he at helde That they sholde bere wytnes Of that batayll at Acrys Kynge Rycharde founde therin faunce fayle Moche store and grete vytayle Many bartelles of fyre gregeys And many a thousande of bowes turkeys Hoked arowes and quarelles He founde there full many barelles And of whete grete plente Golde and syluer and eche deynte Of the tresour had he nought the mounde That in the dormonde was founde For it was drowned in the flode Or halfe vncharged was the gode Auaunced had ben all crystente Had the dormonde passed the see And came to Acrys from kynge Rycharde An hondred wynter there afterwarde For all the crysten men vnder the sonne Ne had not Acrys ben I wonne And thus kynge Rycharde wan the dormonde Thorugh goddes helpe and saynt Edmonde ¶ How kynge Rycharde cutte a two a grete chayne / how an archebysshop tolde hym the sorowe that they had suffre afore KYnge Rycharde after anone ryght Towarde Acrys gan hym dyght And as he sayled towarde surrye He was warned of a spye How the folke of the hethen lawe A grete chayne they had I drawe Ouer the hauen of Acrys fers Was fastened to two pyllers That no shyppe sholde in wynne Ne tho out that were there in Therfore seuen yere and more All crysten kynges laye thore And with hongre suffre payne For lettynge of that same chayne Whan kynge Rycharde herde that tydynge For Ioye his herte begâ—n to sprynge And swore and sayd in his thought All that ne sholde them kepe nought Aswyfte stronge galey he toke Trenchemere so sayth the boke And stered the galey ryght euen All mydwarde the hauen Were the maryners neuer so wrothe He made them rowe and sayle bothe The galey yede as swyfte As ony foule by the lyfte And kynge Rycharde that was so good With his axe afore the shyppe stode And whan he came to the chayne With his axe he smote it atwayne That all the barons verament Sayd it was a noble dente And for Ioye of that dede The cuppes faste aboute yede With good wyne pyment and clare And sayled towarde Acrys cyre Kynge Rycharde out of his galye Let cast wylde fyre in to the skye And the fyrst grekes in to the se All on a fyre were the His trumppettes yede in his galye Men myght it here in to the skye Trompettes hornes and shalmyse The see brente all of fyre grekes Gynnes he had of wonder wyse Mangenelles of grete quyentyse Arblast bowe made with gynne The holy londe therwith to wynne Ouer all other vtterly He had a myle of grete maystry In the myddes of a shyppe to stonde Suche ne sawe they neuer in no londe Foure sayles were therto all newe Yelowe and grene rede and blewe With canuas I layde all aboute Full costly within and without And all
to ryde haue thou no drede For he the helpe shall at nede Purney the a tree grete and stronge Though it be fourty fote longe And trusse it ouerthwarte his mane All that he meteth shall haue theyr bane With that tree he shall downe fell It is a fende as I the tell Ryde on hym in goddes name For he may do the no shame Take a brydell sayd the aungell And make it fast on his mussell And be the brydell in his mouth Ryde eest weste north and south He shall the serue at thy wyll Whan the sowdan shall ryde the tyll Take here a spere heed of stele He hath none armure wrought so wele But it be perysshed be thou bolde Whan the aungell had thus I tolde In to heuen agayne he wente On the morowe the hors was to hym sente Kynge Rycharde of that hors was blythe He let hym dyght a sadell swythe Bothe his arsones were of Iren Bycause they sholde well duren With a chayne togyder faste The brydell vpon the heed he caste As the aungell had hym taught Two good hokes forgate he naught In his arson he set before With waxe he stopped his ere 's thore And sayd by the apostelles twelue Though thou be the deuyll hym selue Thou shalte me helpe at this nede Now he that on the rode gan blede And suffred grymly woundes fyue And syth he rose from deth to lyue And after wente to hell And the fendes myght gan fell And afterwarde styed in to heuen God for his names seuen One god in persones thre In his name I coniure the That thou me serue at my wyll He shoke his heed and stode styll Kynge Rycharde made hym redy that nyght On the morowe whan it was lyght Seuen sowdans with grete route Of that cyte were sente oute And bataylled them in theyr araye Of grete meruayll I wyll you saye That daye was tolde without lesynge Of sowdans and of hygh kynges There were fourty and mo The leest brought with hym tho Twenty thousande and ten Ayenst our good crysten men And euer was twelue of them Ayenst one of our crysten men Well twelue myle a coost Laye the sarasynes hoost The grounde myght vnneth be sene For bryght armure and speres kene They made sheltron batayll abyde Messengers bytwene dyde ryde To kynge Phelyp kynge Rycharde Yf they wolde holde forwarde That they made the daye before The sarasynes ben redy lesse more Foure hondred thousande there bene Kynge Rycharde gan loke and sene Lyke as snowe lyeth on the mountaynes So were full fylled hylles and playnes With hawberkes bryght harneys clere Of trumpettes and of tabourere To here the noyse it was grete wonder As the worlde aboue and vnder Sholde haue fallen so fared the sowne Our crysten hoost made them bowne Kynge Rycharde nothynge them a dradde To his folke hors and harnes he gradde He sayd felawes for the rood Loke ye be of comforte good For we gete the pryce this daye Of hethenes all the noblaye For euermore we haue wonne But he that made mone and sonne Bur helpe and gyue vs myght Beholde how that I shall fyght With swerde spere and axe of stele But I this daye mete hym wele Euer more fro hens forwarde Holde me for a feynt cowarde But euery crysten man and page Haue to nyght to his wage An heed of a blacke sarasyne Thorugh goddes helpe and myne Suche worke I wyll amonge them make Of tho that I may ouertake That fro this tyme to domes daye They shall speke of my paye Euery crysten man was armed wele Bothe in Iren and eke in stele The kynge of fraunce with his batayll Was redy the sarasynes to assayll And aboue the sarasynes they rode Sheltrons pyght and batayll abode And for stopped the londe weyes That they myght not flee the countreyes Neyther no socoure to them come But they were slayne or nome The frensshe men dyde boost make To slee sarasynes and crownes crake But in Iestes as it is tolde There was none of them so bolde To nygh the sarasynes sheltrone Tyll kynge Rycharde was I come Now cometh Rycharde with his hoost And câ—â—â—ed them by an other coost Bytwene them and the cyte That none of them myght flee But they wolde to the ryuer gone Or elles the crysten sholde them slone Than had Rycharde hoostes thre That one gaue assaute to the cyte The seconde with hym he ladde To brynge his hors he badde That the sowdan had hym sente He sayd with his owne presente I shall hym mete longe or nyght He lepte on hors whan it was lyght Or he in his sadell dyde lepe Of many thynges he toke kepe He lacked nought that he ne had His men brought hym that he bad A square tree of fourty fete Before his sadell anone he it sete Faste that they sholde it brase That it fayled for no case And so they dyde with hokes of Iren And good rynges that wolde duren Other fastenynge none there was But Iren chaynes for all that cas And they were wrought full well Bothe his gyrthes and his ptytrell And a queyntyse of the kynges owne Vpon his hors was throwne Before his arson an axe of stele And on that other syde a maswele Hymselfe was rychely begone Frome the creste ryght to the tone He was couered wondersly wele All with splentes of good stele And there aboue an hauberke A shafte he had of trusty werke Vpon his shulder a shelde of stele With thre lyardes depaynted wele And helme he had of ryche entayle Trusty and trewe was his ventayle Vpon his creste a doue whyte Sygnyfyaunce of the holy spyryte Vpon a crosse the doue stode Of golde I wrought ryche and good God hym selfe Mary and IohnÌ„ As he was done the rode vpon In sygnyfyaunce for whome he faught The spere heed forgate he naught Vpon his shafte he wolde it haue Goddes name theron was graue Now herken what othe he sware Or they to the batayll wente thare Yf it were so that Rycharde myght Slee the sowdan in felde with fyght At our wyll euerychone He and his sholde gone In to the cyte of babyloyne And the kynge of masydoyne He sholde haue vnder his honde And yf the sowdan of that londe Myght slee Rycharde in the felde With swerde or spere vnder shelde That crysten men sholde go Out of that londe for euer mo And the sarasynes theyr wyll in wolde Quod kynge Rycharde therto I holde Therto my gloue as I am knyght They be armed and redy dyght Kynge Rycharde to his sadell dyde lepe Certes who that wolde take kepe To se that syght it were fayre Theyr stedes ranne with grete ayre Also harde as they myght dyre After theyr fete sprange out fyre Tabours and trumpettes gan blowe There men myght se in a throwe How kynge Rycharde that noble man Encountred with the sowdan The chefe was tolde of damas His truste vpon his mare was And therfore as the boke vs telles His crouper
herte full of care Well sore than wepte kynge Rycharde Wronge his hondes and tare his barde A Ihesu now thy socour To longe I haue made soiour Now slayne is Roberte mortemere That was erle of leycestere Euery here of hym was worth a knyght And Roberte turnam that was so wyght And syr Brandys and syr Pyttarde That in batayll was wyse and harde And all my good barons The best of all my regyons They ben slayne and all to tore How myght I lenger lyue therfore I myght haue saued all myne If I had comen betyme Certes I shall neuer be blythe man Tyll I be awreked on the sowdan Thus syghed kynge Rycharde aye Tyll it came ayenst the daye A wayte there stode at a cornell And pyped a note with a flagell He ne pyped but one sythe Many an herte he made blythe He loked downe and sawe galyes Kynge Rycharde and his nauyes Shyppe and sayle well he knewe A mery note than he blewe And cryed seygnyours or sus sus Kynge Rycharde is come amonge vs Whan the crysten herde this Theyr hertes became lyght I wys Erles barons squyers and knyght To the walles ranne ryght And sawe kynge Rycharde theyr lorde And welcomed hym with blythe worde And sayd lorde welcome in goddes name All our sorowe is tourned to game Rycharde had neuer in herte Iwys Halfe dele so moche blys Hors and harneys he cryed thare Ayenst the sarasynes for to fare We ne haue lyfe but one Sell we it dere bothe flesshe bonē For to chalenge our herytage Slee we the sarasynes on euyll rage Who so hym douteth for menace Ne se he neuer in goddes face Take me myn axe in myn honde It was made in englonde No more theyr armure I ne doute Than it were a pylche cloute The sothe to saye men shall se Thorugh goddes helpe in trynyte He was the fyrst that on londe dyde lepe Of a dosyn he made an hepe He gan to crye with voyce clere Where ben these hethen pantenere That haue the cyte of Iaffe I nome With my pollaxe I am come For to waraunt that I haue do Wassayll he sayd I drynke you to He layde on I saye you a plyght And slewe the sarasynes downe ryght The sarasynes fledde and wente mate Full faste out at the castell gate In herte they were full of sorowe That them thought the gate to narowe And ranne to the walles of the towne By euery syde they lepte downe And eueryche cryed in this manere Herken now and ye shall here Malkan sterran nayre arbru Loyre fermoyre touz memoru That is for to saye in englysshe The englysshe deuyll I come is And but we flee out of his waye An euyll deth shall we dye to daye They fledde out of the towne anone Therin abode not so moche as one But foure hondred or fyue They were soone brought out of lyue They lepte on theyr destreres And at the gate set porters Kynge Rycharde lepte on fauell Well armed in yren and in stele And rode hym out at the gate The kynge of egypte he mette therate With syxty thousande of sarasynes fers With armes bryght and brode baners Rycharde a duke on the helme hytte Downe to the grounde he hym slytte Another he smote on the yren hode That at his breste his swerde stode His templers and his barons Fared ryght lyke wood lyons And slewe the sarasynes swythe As grasse falleth before the sythe The sarasynes sawe no better wone But fledde awaye euerychone To Salandynes grete hoost That fyftene myle laye in coost Syxty thousande as I you saye The sowdan loste that same daye For theyr armure fared as waxe Ayenst kynge Rychardes axe Many a sarasyne hygh lordynge Yelded them to Rycharde our kynge Rycharde put them in hostage tho There were a thousande prysoners mo The chase lasted swythe longe Tyll the tyme of euensonge Rycharde rode after tyll it was nyght So many of them to deth he dyght That no nombre it may accounte How many of them it wolde amounte Rycharde lefte without the towne And pyght there his pauylyowne And that nyght with mylde herte He comforted his barons smarte And ye shall here on the morowe How there was a daye of sorowe For the gretest batayll I vnderstonde That neuer was in ony londe And ye that this batayll wyll lere Herken now and ye shall here As kynge Rycharde sate at his soupere And gladded his barons with mylde chere And comforted them with ale and wyne Two messengers came frome Salandyn And stode kynge Rycharde before With longe berdes and with hore Of two mules they were a lyght In golde and sylke they were I dyght Eyther helde other by the honde And sayd kynge Rycharde now vnderstonde Our lorde Salandyn the hygh kynge Hath the sente this askynge If that thou were so hardy a knyght That thou durste hym abyde in fyght Tyll to morowe that it daye ware Of blysse thou sholde ben all bare For thy lyfe and for thy barons He wyll not gyue two skalons He wyll the take with strength of hondes For he hath folke of many londes Egyens and of turkye Of moryens and of arabye Basyles and embosyens Well eger knyghtes of defens Egypcyens and of surrye Of ynde moror and of capadocye Of medes and of asclamoyne Of samarye and of babyloyne Two hondred knyghtes without fayle Fyue hondred of amarayle The grounde ne may them vnneth bere The folke that cometh the to dere By our rede do ryght well And tourne agayne to Iaffe castell In safe warde thou myght there be Tyll thou haue sente after thy meyne And yf thou se thou may not stonde Tourne agayne to thyn owne londe In anger Rycharde toke vp a lofe And in his hondes it all to rofe And sayd to that sarasyne God gyue the well euyll pyne And Salandyn your lorde The deuyll hym hange with a corde For your counseyll and your tydynge God gyue you well euyll endynge Now go and saye to Salandyn In despyte of his god appolyn I wyll abyde hym betyme Though he come to morowe or pryme And though I were but my selfe alone I wolde abyde them euerychone And yf the dogge wyll come to me My bollaxe shall his bane be And saye that I hym desyre And all his cursed company in fere Go now and saye to hym thus The curse haue he of swete Ihesus The menssengers wente to Salandyn And all the begynnynge tolde hym Salandyn meruayled than And sayd it was none erthly man He is a deuyll or a saynt His myght founde I neuer faynt Anone he made his ordeynynge For to take Rycharde the kynge Therof Rycharde toke no kepe But all nyght laye and slepe Tyll ayenst the dawnynge Than herde he a shyll cryenge Thorugh goddes grace an aungell of heuen Tho sayd to hym with mylde steuen Aryse and lepe on thy good stede fauell And tourne agayne to Iaffe castell Thou haste slepte longe I nough Thou shalte fynde harde and
tough Or thou come to that cyte Thou shalte be wrapped thy meyne After the batayll without leas With the sowdan thou make thy peas Take trues and let thy baronage Vnto the flome do theyr vyage To Nazareth and to Bedlem To Caluarye and to Iherusalem And let them wende after then And come thou after with thy shypmen For enemyes thou haste I vnderstonde There in thyne owne londe Vp sayd the aungell well the spede Thou ne haddest neuer more nede Rycharde arose as he wolde wede And lepte on fauell his good stede And sayd lordynges or sus or sus Thus hath vs warned swete Ihesus On armes he let crye thare Ayenst the sarasynes for to fare But Salandyn and his tem Was bytwene Iaffe and them That was to Rycharde moche payne That he ne myght his hoost ordayne Before he prycked on fauell His spere dyde byte full well Therwith he slewe without doute Thre kynges of the sowdans route His hors was styffe hymselfe was good Hors ne man hym nought withstood For to hewe many an hethen cors He dyde his myght and his hors He that had seen his countenaunce Wolde hym haue had in remembraunce They gan on hym as faste dryue As bees done from the hony hyue Whome that he hytte with his sworde Neuer after ne spake he worde The englysshe and frensshe gan after ryde To fyght they were fresshe that tyde Vpon the sarasynes faste they donge With swerdes and with launces stronge And smote harde with theyr myght And slewe the sarasynes downe ryght And there was full lytell kepe So many of them were layde on slepe That no slaughter without fayle Ne myght ben seen in that batayle A myre there was without Iaffe A myle longe without lasse Maugre them kynge Rycharde that syre Thre thousande droue in to the myre The foule cursed hethen men Lye and bathe them in the fen And tho that wolde come vp Dranke of Rychardes owne cup What adreynt and what I slawe The sowdan lost of the hethen lawe Syxty thousande in a lytell stounde In the frensshe it is I founde Tho kynge Rycharde wente ayen To recomforte hym with his men Now he was here now he was there To helpe them with his powere Ne sawe men neuer as I you tell One man so many to grounde fell And in the moost peryll of the batayle Kynge Rycharde sawe without fayle His eem syr Harry of champayne Felde downe of his hors in the playne The sarasynes had hym vnder honde To slee hym faste they gan fonde It had ben his daye laste Had not Rycharde comen in haste Rycharde cryed with an hye voyse A helpe god and the holy croyse Myn eem to daye fro shame thou shylde Frome deth of these dogges wylde Lordynges he sayd laye on Ne let these dogges escape non I my selfe shall proue to smyte If my pollaxe wyll ought byte Tho men myght se with mayne How he shedde blode and brayne Vpon the place that grene was Many a soule wente to sathanas The templers came to socoure There began an harde shoure They layde on as they were wode The valeys ranne all on blode The longe spaye was a doughty knyght As he were wode he gan to fyght The kynge of martok he mette in the felde With a spere he smote hym in the shelde That he tombled without fayle Toppe sayle ouer his hors tayle That on his heed he lyght And brake his necke I you plyght The erle of leycester syr Robarde The erle of rychemonde kynge Rycharde There as these thre knyghtes rode That daye was the waye all brode That foure carters myght mete So many of them there lost the swete On bothe partyes was many a body Slayne that was full hardy At the laste with grete payne They wanne the erle of champayne And brought hym vpon his stede That swythe good was at nede And bad he sholde by hym ryde Ryght by his owne syde With that came a messenger reke With kynge Rycharde for to speke And sayd syr for charyte Tourne agayne to Iaffe cyte Couered is bothe mount and playne Kynge Alysaunder ne Charlemayne Ne had neuer halfe the route As is the cyte now aboute Ye may in to the cyte ryde In felde what happe so euer betyde And I you warne without fayle That moche is payred of your batayle The patryarke I taken is And Iohn̄ neuell I slayne Iwys Wyllyam of Arasyn and Gerarde And bartram the braundys the good lumbarde All these ben slayne and many mo Kynge Rycharde bethought hym tho And began to crye tourne arere Euery man with his banere And of sarasynes thousandes many one To hym gadered euerychone And slewe fauell vnder hym Tho was Rycharde wroth grym His axe from the arson he drewe The sarasynes therwith he slewe That had stycked vnder hym his stede Therfore they lost theyr hedes to mede On fote he was and on fote he layed Many an hondred vnder hym dayed All that his axe take myght Downe he slewe anone ryght What before and what behynde A thousande sarasynes in boke I fynde He slewe whan he was on fote That came there neuer none to bote Salandynes two sones came ryde And ten thousande sarasynes by theyr syde And began to crye to kynge Rycharde Yelde the traytour thou foule cowarde Or we shall the slee in this place Thou lyest quod Rycharde by goddes grace And with his axe he smote hym so That his myddell he carued in two There halfe the body fell downe And that other halfe abode in the arsowne Of the sayd Rycharde I am syker His broder came to that byker Vpon a stede with grete raundowne As though the worlde sholde fall downe And gaue Rycharde a woūde thorugh the arme That dyde Rycharde moche harme For on the spere heed was venym And Rycharde stoutely smote to hym That hors and man he felde to grounde Lye there quod Rycharde hethen hounde Ne shalte thou neuer tell Salandyne That thou dydest me my lyfe to tyne Than fyue dukes of hethenesse Came with theyr hoost more and lesse And beset aboute Rycharde our kynge And thought all to deth hym brynge But Rycharde within a lytell thrawe The fyue dukes he hath I slawe And many an hondred after then All swythe doughty hethen men At the last though it were late Rycharde wanne to Iaffe gate Tho were our crysten well syker That they sholde wynne that byker The erle of leycester syr Robarde Brought hym his stede lyarde Kynge Rycharde in the sadell dyde lepe Tho fledde the sarasynes ryght as shepe Rycharde rode after tyll it was nyght And slewe all that he take myght There was slayne in playne and den Ten hondred thousande hethen men Tho myght Rycharde without leas Wende to the cyte of Iaffe in peas Tho he thanked the kynge of glorye And Marye of that vyctorye For syth the worlde was begonne A fayrer batayle was neuer wonne On the morowe he sente syr Sabeuyle And syr Roberte of waturuyle