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Paris, overcome with grief and

rage, dashes into battle to seek Palamedes.

Pa'amedes, with one blow, cuts down Sarpedon.

Paris shoots
Palamedes with

(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,
Dessyrus to degh, for dole pat he hade.

He shot þurgh the sheltrums þe shalke for to mete,
Palomydon to prese, and put vnto dethe:
9460 pen found he the freike in a fell stoure.

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.


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;
And to deire hym with dethe he duly deuyset,
With a narow full noble of a nait shap,

9480 pat put was in poison ouer the pale hede.
He woundit þat worthy in his wide prote,


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.
The frigies felly folowet hom after,

9492 ffele of hom fuersly felle hom to ground;
Dang hom to dethe with dynttes of swerd,

Girdyn to be grekes with a grym fare;

9500 Greuit hom full gretly with mony grym wound;
Alto ter of hor tenttes, tokyn pere godes.
Syluer and Sarrigold sadly pai grippet,
Bassons full brode, & other bright vessell;
9504 Pesis of plates plentius mekyll,

Other iowels full ioly, & mekull iust armur.
Paris the prise knight, & the pert Troilus
Bowet to pe bonke pere pe barges lay,

9508 With xxxti M. promen pryuond in armys.
The shippes on a shene fyre shot þai belyue,
That the low vp lightly launchit aboute;
And all chrickenede with the scriue purgh the
styrn ost,

9512 ffor the smorther, & the smoke of pe smert loghys,
hat waivet in the welkyn, wappond full hote,
All the Citie might se the sercle aboute.
pan Aiax the aunterus came angardly fast,—

Book XXIII. throat, it lays open the great vein.


The Greeks break, and flee to their tents.

The Trojans pursue.

And moche wo on hom wroght, wastid hor blode.


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


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
King of Thrace,
is transfixed with
a great spear.

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,
In deffence of pe folke, pat the feld leuyt.
ffell was the fight with foynyng of speires,
9520 Mallyng þurgh metall maynly with hondes,
Kyllyng of knightes, knockyng þurgh helmys,
Ded men full dauly droppit to ground!

On yche halue, in pat hete, hurlit to fote,
9524 Mony bold was pere britnet vpon bothe haluys.

There all the Navy with noy, & the naite

With fflamys of fyre hade fully ben brent,
Ne hade aunterus Aiax angardly don,

9528 And with hardynes of hond holpyn his feres,

(In) withstondyng the stoure with his strenght on.
ffyve hundrith fully of pere fyne shippes,
Consumet full cleane, clothes & other,

9532 And mony mo were pere marred, & mated with


The Troiens pat tyme tenet hom so euyll,
Dong hom to dethe, & derit hom mekyll,

þat no sith might pai suffer the sorow, þat thai

9536 But turnyt vnto tenttes, tenit full euill.
One Ebes, an od man & honerable of kyn,
Of Tracy be tru kyng was his triet fader,

He was brochit purgh the body with a big speire,
9540 þat a trunchyn of pe tre tut out behynd,
To Achilles aune tent angardly ran,

That lay in his loge all with loue boundon,
And fore to no fight for faire Polexena.
9544 He chalinget Achilles with a chere fell,
Reproued hym prudly of his proud wille,
bat lurket in his loge, list not to helpe,
And segh his folke so fallyn, & in fight end,

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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,
Ne no freke of defense, but in feld all

9564 To oppresse hom with payn, our pepull to sle.
And yf hit liked you, lord, at þis lell tyme,
To bowne you to batell on your best wise;


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;


A servant returns from the battle, and tells Achilles how sorely the Greeks are pressed.

If he will go
forth to battle, he
may gain great
honour and fame.

None of these things move Achilles: he is so overcome with


ffol. 148 a.)


At sunset, Paris

leads the Trojans into the city.

Then neghit the night, noy was the more!
At the settyng of pe son sesit the fight,
Paris, the prise knight, with his pepull all
9588 Soght to the Citie softly & faire.

Er Deffibus was dede, his dere bredur two,
Troilus the tru knight, & the triet Paris,
ffore euyn to be freke febill of chere ;

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


Deiphobus dies.

Grief of the
Trojans for
Deiphobus and

Mony grekes vnto ground gird vnto dethe; Mony stithe in the stoure starf vnder fote, 9584 Till the blode & the brayne blend with the



ben bade he to a buerne, þat hym by stode,
The trunchen of the tre tug fro his brest;
And he deghit with dole when he done hade,
Vne past in the place vnto pale dethe.
Myche mournyng was made for þat mayn


With his ffader vnfaire, & his fre moder,
9608 His brether vnblithe, & his bright suster;
With sobbyng purgh the Citie, & sorow full

And for Seppidon, the sure kyng, Syling of teres,
Myche weping & waile, wringyng of hond,

9612 Bothe of buernes of the burgh, & his bold


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