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Ther was noman which tok tonsure,

In doelful clothes thei hem clothe,

The bathes and the Stwes bothe

Thei schetten in be every weie;

There was no lif which leste pleie

Ne take of eny joie kepe,

Bot for here liege lord to wepe;

And every wyht seide as he couthe,

"Helas, the lusti flour of youthe, 490

Our Prince, oure heved, our governour,

Thurgh whom we stoden in honour,

Withoute the comun assent

Thus sodeinliche is fro ous went!"

Such was the clamour of hem alle.

Bot se we now what is befalle

Upon the ferste tale plein,

And torne we therto ayein.

Antiochus the grete Sire,

Which full of rancour and of ire 500

His herte berth, so as ye herde,

Of that this Prince of Tyr ansuerde,

He hadde a feloun bacheler,

Which was his prive consailer,

And Taliart be name he hihte:

The king a strong puison him dihte

Withinne a buiste and gold therto,

In alle haste and bad him go

Strawht unto Tyr, and for no cost

Ne spare he, til he hadde lost 510

The Prince which he wolde spille.

And whan the king hath seid his wille,

This Taliart in a Galeie

With alle haste he tok his weie:

The wynd was good, he saileth blyve,

Til he tok lond upon the ryve

Of Tyr, and forth with al anon

Into the Burgh he gan to gon,

And tok his In and bod a throwe.

Bot for he wolde noght be knowe, 520

Desguised thanne he goth him oute;

He sih the wepinge al aboute,

And axeth what the cause was,

And thei him tolden al the cas,

How sodeinli the Prince is go.

And whan he sih that it was so,

And that his labour was in vein,

Anon he torneth hom ayein,

And to the king, whan he cam nyh,

He tolde of that he herde and syh, 530

Hou that the Prince of Tyr is fled,

So was he come ayein unsped.

The king was sori for a while,

Bot whan he sih that with no wyle

He myhte achieve his crualte,

He stinte his wraththe and let him be.

Bot over this now forto telle

Of aventures that befelle

Unto this Prince of whom I tolde,

He hath his rihte cours forth holde 540

Be Ston and nedle, til he cam

To Tharse, and there his lond he nam.

A Burgeis riche of gold and fee

Was thilke time in that cite,

Which cleped was Strangulio,

His wif was Dionise also:

This yonge Prince, as seith the bok,

With hem his herbergage tok;

And it befell that Cite so

Before time and thanne also, 550

Thurgh strong famyne which hem ladde

Was non that eny whete hadde.

Appolinus, whan that he herde

The meschief, hou the cite ferde,

Al freliche of his oghne yifte

His whete, among hem forto schifte,

The which be Schipe he hadde broght,

He yaf, and tok of hem riht noght.

Bot sithen ferst this world began,

Was nevere yit to such a man 560

Mor joie mad than thei him made:

For thei were alle of him so glade,

That thei for evere in remembrance

Made a figure in resemblance

Of him, and in the comun place

Thei sette him up, so that his face

Mihte every maner man beholde,

So as the cite was beholde;

It was of latoun overgilt:

Thus hath he noght his yifte spilt. 570

Upon a time with his route

This lord to pleie goth him oute,

And in his weie of Tyr he mette

A man, the which on knees him grette,

And Hellican be name he hihte,

Which preide his lord to have insihte

Upon himself, and seide him thus,

Hou that the grete Antiochus

Awaiteth if he mihte him spille.

That other thoghte and hield him stille, 580

And thonked him of his warnynge,

And bad him telle no tidinge,

Whan he to Tyr cam hom ayein,

That he in Tharse him hadde sein.

Fortune hath evere be muable

And mai no while stonde stable:

For now it hiheth, now it loweth,

Now stant upriht, now overthroweth,

Now full of blisse and now of bale,

As in the tellinge of mi tale 590

Hierafterward a man mai liere,

Which is gret routhe forto hiere.

This lord, which wolde don his beste,

Withinne himself hath litel reste,

And thoghte he wolde his place change

And seche a contre more strange.

Of Tharsiens his leve anon

He tok, and is to Schipe gon:

His cours he nam with Seil updrawe,

Where as fortune doth the lawe, 600

And scheweth, as I schal reherse,

How sche was to this lord diverse,