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Of gret worschipe, of gret noblesse

Ther cride many a man largesse

Unto the lordes hihe and loude;

The knyhtes that ben yonge and proude,

Thei jouste ferst and after daunce.

The day is go, the nyhtes chaunce

Hath derked al the bryhte Sonne;

This lord, which hath his love wonne,

Is go to bedde with his wif,

Wher as thei ladde a lusti lif, 970

And that was after somdel sene,

For as thei pleiden hem betwene,

Thei gete a child betwen hem tuo,

To whom fell after mochel wo.

Now have I told of the spousailes.

Bot forto speke of the mervailes

Whiche afterward to hem befelle,

It is a wonder forto telle.

It fell adai thei riden oute,

The king and queene and al the route, 980

To pleien hem upon the stronde,

Wher as thei sen toward the londe

A Schip sailende of gret array.

To knowe what it mene may,

Til it be come thei abide;

Than sen thei stonde on every side,

Endlong the schipes bord to schewe,

Of Penonceals a riche rewe.

Thei axen when the ship is come:

Fro Tyr, anon ansuerde some, 990

And over this thei seiden more

The cause why thei comen fore

Was forto seche and forto finde

Appolinus, which was of kinde

Her liege lord: and he appiereth,

And of the tale which he hiereth

He was riht glad; for thei him tolde,

That for vengance, as god it wolde,

Antiochus, as men mai wite,

With thondre and lyhthnynge is forsmite; 1000

His doghter hath the same chaunce,

So be thei bothe in o balance.

"Forthi, oure liege lord, we seie

In name of al the lond, and preie,

That left al other thing to done,

It like you to come sone

And se youre oghne liege men

With othre that ben of youre ken,

That live in longinge and desir

Til ye be come ayein to Tyr." 1010

This tale after the king it hadde

Pentapolim al overspradde,

Ther was no joie forto seche;

For every man it hadde in speche

And seiden alle of on acord,

"A worthi king schal ben oure lord:

That thoghte ous ferst an hevinesse

Is schape ous now to gret gladnesse."

Thus goth the tidinge overal.

Bot nede he mot, that nede schal: 1020

Appolinus his leve tok,

To god and al the lond betok

With al the poeple long and brod,

That he no lenger there abod.

The king and queene sorwe made,

Bot yit somdiel thei weren glade

Of such thing as thei herden tho:

And thus betwen the wel and wo

To schip he goth, his wif with childe,

The which was evere meke and mylde 1030

And wolde noght departe him fro,

Such love was betwen hem tuo.

Lichorida for hire office

Was take, which was a Norrice,

To wende with this yonge wif,

To whom was schape a woful lif.

Withinne a time, as it betidde,

Whan thei were in the See amidde,

Out of the North they sihe a cloude;

The storm aros, the wyndes loude 1040

Thei blewen many a dredful blast,

The welkne was al overcast,

The derke nyht the Sonne hath under,

Ther was a gret tempeste of thunder:

The Mone and ek the Sterres bothe

In blake cloudes thei hem clothe,

Wherof here brihte lok thei hyde.

This yonge ladi wepte and cride,

To whom no confort myhte availe;

Of childe sche began travaile, 1050

Wher sche lay in a Caban clos:

Hire woful lord fro hire aros,

And that was longe er eny morwe,

So that in anguisse and in sorwe

Sche was delivered al be nyhte

And ded in every mannes syhte;

Bot natheles for al this wo

A maide child was bore tho.

Appolinus whan he this knew,

For sorwe a swoune he overthrew, 1060

That noman wiste in him no lif.

And whanne he wok, he seide, "Ha, wif,

Mi lust, mi joie, my desir,

Mi welthe and my recoverir,

Why schal I live, and thou schalt dye?

Ha, thou fortune, I thee deffie,

Nou hast thou do to me thi werste.

Ha, herte, why ne wolt thou berste,

That forth with hire I myhte passe?

Mi peines weren wel the lasse." 1070

In such wepinge and in such cry

His dede wif, which lay him by,

A thousend sithes he hire kiste;

Was nevere man that sih ne wiste

A sorwe unto his sorwe lich;

For evere among upon the lich

He fell swounende, as he that soghte

His oghne deth, which he besoghte

Unto the goddes alle above

With many a pitous word of love; 1080

Bot suche wordes as