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Yit herde nevere mannes Ere,

Bot only thilke whiche he seide.

The Maister Schipman cam and preide

With othre suche as be therinne,

And sein that he mai nothing winne

Ayein the deth, bot thei him rede,

He be wel war and tak hiede,

The See be weie of his nature

Receive mai no creature 1090

Withinne himself as forto holde,

The which is ded: forthi thei wolde,

As thei conseilen al aboute,

The dede body casten oute.

For betre it is, thei seiden alle,

That it of hire so befalle,

Than if thei scholden alle spille.

The king, which understod here wille

And knew here conseil that was trewe,

Began ayein his sorwe newe 1100

With pitous herte, and thus to seie:

"It is al reson that ye preie.

I am," quod he, "bot on al one,

So wolde I noght for mi persone

Ther felle such adversite.

Bot whan it mai no betre be,

Doth thanne thus upon my word,

Let make a cofre strong of bord,

That it be ferm with led and pich."

Anon was mad a cofre sich, 1110

Al redy broght unto his hond;

And whanne he sih and redy fond

This cofre mad and wel enclowed,

The dede bodi was besowed

In cloth of gold and leid therinne.

And for he wolde unto hire winne

Upon som cooste a Sepulture,

Under hire heved in aventure

Of gold he leide Sommes grete

And of jeueals a strong beyete 1120

Forth with a lettre, and seide thus:

"I, king of Tyr Appollinus,

Do alle maner men to wite,

That hiere and se this lettre write,

That helpeles withoute red

Hier lith a kinges doghter ded:

And who that happeth hir to finde,

For charite tak in his mynde,

And do so that sche be begrave

With this tresor, which he schal have." 1130

Thus whan the lettre was full spoke,

Thei haue anon the cofre stoke,

And bounden it with yren faste,

That it may with the wawes laste,

And stoppen it be such a weie,

That it schal be withinne dreie,

So that no water myhte it grieve.

And thus in hope and good believe

Of that the corps schal wel aryve,

Thei caste it over bord als blyve. 1140

The Schip forth on the wawes wente;

The prince hath changed his entente,

And seith he wol noght come at Tyr

As thanne, bot al his desir

Is ferst to seilen unto Tharse.

The wyndy Storm began to skarse,

The Sonne arist, the weder cliereth,

The Schipman which behinde stiereth,

Whan that he sih the wyndes saghte,

Towardes Tharse his cours he straghte. 1150

Bot now to mi matiere ayein,

To telle as olde bokes sein,

This dede corps of which ye knowe

With wynd and water was forthrowe

Now hier, now ther, til ate laste

At Ephesim the See upcaste

The cofre and al that was therinne.

Of gret merveile now beginne

Mai hiere who that sitteth stille;

That god wol save mai noght spille. 1160

Riht as the corps was throwe alonde,

Ther cam walkende upon the stronde

A worthi clerc, a Surgien,

And ek a gret Phisicien,

Of al that lond the wisest on,

Which hihte Maister Cerymon;

Ther were of his disciples some.

This Maister to the Cofre is come,

He peiseth ther was somwhat in,

And bad hem bere it to his In, 1170

And goth himselve forth withal.

Al that schal falle, falle schal;

Thei comen hom and tarie noght;

This Cofre is into chambre broght,

Which that thei finde faste stoke,

Bot thei with craft it have unloke.

Thei loken in, where as thei founde

A bodi ded, which was bewounde

In cloth of gold, as I seide er,

The tresor ek thei founden ther 1180

Forth with the lettre, which thei rede.

And tho thei token betre hiede;

Unsowed was the bodi sone,

And he, which knew what is to done,

This noble clerk, with alle haste

Began the veines forto taste,

And sih hire Age was of youthe,

And with the craftes whiche he couthe

He soghte and fond a signe of lif.

With that this worthi kinges wif 1190

Honestely thei token oute,

And maden fyres al aboute;

Thei leide hire on a couche softe,

And with a scheete warmed ofte

Hire colde brest began to hete,

Hire herte also to flacke and bete.

This Maister hath hire every joignt

With certein oile and balsme enoignt,

And putte a liquour in hire mouth,

Which is to fewe clerkes couth, 1200

So that sche coevereth