Pook XXIII. Paris, overcome with grief and rage, dashes into battle to seek Palamedes. Pa'amedes, with one blow, cuts down Sarpedon. Paris shoots (fol. 146 b.) a poisoned arrow. Entering the hat he so sleghly be slayn with sleght of pi hond, 9452 þat I may wete how hit worthes, or I wend hethyn!" Parys, for pytie of his pale wordes, Sweyt into swym, as he swelt wold, And all his wedis were wete of his wan teres. 9156 There left he pe lede and launchet to fild, He shot þurgh the sheltrums þe shalke for to mete, Seppidon, the sure kyng, assaylet full hard, And the freke hym defendit with a freike wille. To Palomydon he preset with a prise weppyn, 9464 The bold for to britton, & on bent leue. THE DETHE OF SEPPIDON DE KYNG BY PALOMYDON. Palomydon the prise, with a proude sworde, On kyng Seppidon for-sothe set soche a dynt; He gird hym so grymly on his gret theghe, 9468 þat he karve hit of cleane, & the kyng deghit, And fey of his fole felle to pe ground. Parys segh, in his sorow, how the sir wroght; be freike in his felnes the fuerse kyng hade slayne, 9472 And mony Troiens with tene tyrnit to dethe: What for dynttes of pat duke, & of derfe other, pai were boun to gyffe bake, & the bent leue. THE DETHE OF PALOMYDON BY PARIS. Paris bend vp his bow with his big arme, 9476 Waited the wegh in his wit ouer, In what plase of his person to perse of his wede; 9480 pat put was in poison ouer the pale hede. THE GREEK TENTS ARE PLUNDERED. Gird purgh the gret vayne, grusshet the necke, bat he hurlyt doun hedlonges, harmyt no moo, 9484 And deghit of pe dynt, deirit neuer after. pen the crie was full kene, crusshyng of wepyn! Myche grem hade the grekes for gref of hym one! When pai lost hade the lede, pat hom lede shuld, 9488 All astonyt þai stode starond aboute, ben fled all in fere, and the fild leuit, Bowet to pere bastels with bale at þere herttes. 9492 ffele of hom fuersly felle hom to ground; Girdyn to be grekes with a grym fare; 9500 Greuit hom full gretly with mony grym wound; Other iowels full ioly, & mekull iust armur. 9508 With xxxti M. promen pryuond in armys. 9512 ffor the smorther, & the smoke of pe smert loghys, Book XXIII. throat, it lays open the great vein. 309 The Greeks break, and flee to their tents. The Trojans pursue. And moche wo on hom wroght, wastid hor blode. tents; At the tentis pai turnyt with Troiens to fight; A struggle at the 9496 With-stode hom full stithly in a stoure hoge; ffoghten with hom felly, & fele were pere slayne. The Troiens lighten doun lyuely, lefton thair horses, which are torn and plundered. Paris and Troilus set fire to the Greek ships. (fol. 147 a.) Ajax, with a Book XXIII. great company, comes to the rescue. Many killed and wounded on both sides. (MS. has "and") More than five hundred of the Greek ships are burned. Ebes, son of the He goes to the tent of (fol. 147 b.) Achilles, and reproves him for not assisting his countrymen. 9516 The tore son of Thelamon,—with tried men & noble : He turnyt to the troiens, tenit full mony, On yche halue, in pat hete, hurlit to fote, There all the Navy with noy, & the naite With fflamys of fyre hade fully ben brent, 9528 And with hardynes of hond holpyn his feres, (In) withstondyng the stoure with his strenght on. 9532 And mony mo were pere marred, & mated with fire. The Troiens pat tyme tenet hom so euyll, þat no sith might pai suffer the sorow, þat thai 9536 But turnyt vnto tenttes, tenit full euill. He was brochit purgh the body with a big speire, That lay in his loge all with loue boundon, ACHILLES UNDER REPROOF. 9548 bat with his monhede so mykell, & with his Book XXIII. mayn strenght, Might soucour his Soudiours, & saue hom alyue. hen the trunchyn of the tre pai tuggit hym fro, Braid it out bigly, and the buerne deghet. 9552 Sone after, sothly, a seruond of Achilles Come bremly fro batell, braid to his tent: He fraynit at the freike how pai fore pere, And spird at hym specially of paire spede fer. 9556 "Syr," quod pe seruond, "in sertan, full euyll, Oure grekes vnto ground are gird wonder picke, And myche dole is vs dight to day, as I wene. be multytude ys so myche of the mayn troiens, 9560 And so fuersly in fight fellis oure knightes, Alto swappon vs with swerdes & with swym strokes. In the Citie, forsothe, no soudiour is leuit, 9564 To oppresse hom with payn, our pepull to sle. 9576 Syn pai fainted are with fight & feble of strenght, 9568 And wery of pere werke, ye worship might haue, Wyth a lose euerlastond, when your lyff endis : ffor by soucour of your selfe, & your sad helpe, We might holly the herrehond haue now for ay." 9572 The worthy at his wordes wonyt no chere, Ne noght hopet in hert of his hegh speche, Ne pe sight of Sebes, pat sadly was dede; But faynet all fantasy, as he no freike segh, And as a lede pat with loue was lappit full hard, As pe maner is of men, pat mellyn with loue, To be blyndit with the byt, pof hom bale happyn: Nowther waite vnto worship, ne to wild aunter, 9580 But laityn ay with lykyng þere luff for to please. The batell was big, brytnet were fele; 311 A servant returns from the battle, and tells Achilles how sorely the Greeks are pressed. If he will go None of these things move Achilles: he is so overcome with love. ffol. 148 a.) Book XXIII. At sunset, Paris leads the Trojans into the city. Then neghit the night, noy was the more! Er Deffibus was dede, his dere bredur two, The grief of Paris 9592 With mykell sobbyng and sorow set hym before, and Troilus for their brother Deiphobus. bat leuer were to be lyueles, then to lyue after, ffor dole, & for doute of hor dere brother. Then Deffibus dauly drogh vp his Ene, 9596 Pletid vnto Paris with a pore voise, Whether the Duke were od dede, pat hym deiret so. han he fraynet at the freike, as he hym faith aght, And he, the tale how hit tid, told hym full euyn, 9600 of the dethe and the dynt þat the Duke polit, With the bir of his bow and a big arow. Paris relates how he killed Palamedes. Deiphobus dies. Grief of the Mony grekes vnto ground gird vnto dethe; Mony stithe in the stoure starf vnder fote, 9584 Till the blode & the brayne blend with the erthe. 9604 ben bade he to a buerne, þat hym by stode, knight With his ffader vnfaire, & his fre moder, And for Seppidon, the sure kyng, Syling of teres, 9612 Bothe of buernes of the burgh, & his bold knightes. |