"Nai, dame, he saide, gent and fre,
I the praie thanne telle hit me."
"SIRE, sche saide, withouten dout,
Whilom was Rome bilayn about
With seuen Soudans biset,
Wal and gate and castelét.
The honour of Rome for to abate,
And for to strwe Seinte Petres sate;
That is to seie, Cristendom to felle,
And Cristenmen to aquelle.
The folk hem ful wel held,
Wise of speche, of dede beld;
"To vii wise men toke we this toun,
To kep hit fram destructioun."
Bi his rede hit was i-take,
To vii wise men to biwake.
A moneth thai kept hit,
Als we findeth in the writ.
Whan hit com to the moneth ende,
Thai ne might hit no lenger defende,
But ase thai dede a fair queintise.
Herkneth now in what wise!
"A man ther was, so seigh the rime,
That hit Gemes, in that time;
He was on of the seuen wise :
Ther he dede a fair queintise.
He let him make a garnement,
Ase blak as ani arnement,
And heng theron squirel taile,
With eghen that war ful bright and clere,
And brade, ilkone, als a sawsère ;
With brade tonges, and bright-glowand,
Als it war a fire-brand.
"When he had on this wise done,
The folk of Rome he sembled sone;
And bad tham fast, withouten fayl,
Ordain tham vnto batayl.
Al thai answerd him vntill,
Thai sold be redy at his will,
On the morn with sheld and spere.
The maister than dyd on his gere,
And went vp in a towr on hight,
Whare the Sarzins se him myght.
His veser on his heued he kest;
A bright merure aboue he fest:
Twa swerdes out gan he brayd,
And grete strakes obowt him laid.
He made als mekil dyn and bost,
Als he had foghten ogayns an ost.
"When the Sarsins saw this meruàil,
Thai wald no lenger bede batàyl.
Sum wend, for the merure lyght,
That it war ane angel bright,
That God had sent theder perchance,
On tham for to tak vengance.
So mekil light the merure kast,
That the Sarzins fled ful fast.
The maister made slike nois omell,
Sum hoped he war the fend of hell.
Thai war so temped in that tyde,
Thare thai durst no lenger bide.
Thai opind than the yates of Rome,
And Cristend men fast efter come.
The emperowre and his men ilkane
Of the Sarezins slogh gode wane;
Als mani als thai might ouertake
Fast thai gain thaire crownes crake.
Thare wan the Cristenmen honòwre,
And mekil gold and gude armòwre:
Thus-gat Gemis that was wise
Wan the maystri by quaintìse.
"The maysters of Rome and buriayse
Said he was worthi to prayse,
And none so worthy als he
Emperoure of Rome to be:
And right so, by thaire aller dome,
Thai made him emperoure of Rome.
"Sir, thus sall thi maisters wise
Decayue the with thaire quayntìse;
And thou mun be ful fayn may fall
On knese for to serue tham all.
I prai to God it might be so
If thou more traystes tham vnto,
For thai er nothing els obout,
Bot to make the thaire vnderlout :
That sal men se ful sone, I trow,
And thiself sal noght wit how,
Vntil thou lose al thine hondwre,
And sum of tham be emperoure.
Yit war me leuer that thai so ware
Than thi son that greues me sare."
Thus, when the emperoure herd hir speke,
He said als swith he sold hir wreke;
And alsone sold his sone be slayn.
Sho thanked him and was ful fayn.
Than out of chamber gan thai pás.-
Thus hir tale endid sho has.
The
emperoure than went to hall;
His turmentowres son gert he call:
He bad thai sold let for no thing,
His son with scowrges for to dyng;
And when that thai had so-gates done
He bad he sold be honged sone;
"So that I namore him se,
For mekil meneyng makes he me.”
The childe than out of the toun thai led,
So for-beten that he bled;
And right als thai went with him thus,
So com maister Maxencius.
He sese his scolere him bisyde:
He prays the folk a while to byde.
A while thai hight to dwel thare still.
The toun ful fast he hies him till.
He come bifore the
emperoure,
And hailsed him with grete honowre.
He sayd: "Sir, thou ert hy-iustìse :
The aght wele to be war and wise.
Methink thou wirkis, to thi reproue,
Onence thi son that thou sold loue:
For a day wiltou be his frende,
Another day thou wilt him shende;
Al day mai men turn thi mode;
So fares foles that can no gode,
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