Þat he fell of his horse flat to þe ground,
Line 5908
Deghit of þe dynt, & deiret no moo.
Palomydon preset furth into þe prise batell;
Mony tulke out of Troy tyrnyt to dethe; [folio 92a]
Mony knight don cast to þe cold erthe.
Line 5912
All were ferd of þe freike, fled of his way;
Durst no buerne on hym bate for his bold dedis.
Myche clamour & crye was kyde in þe ost,
Þat the Troiens for tene might tary no lengur;
Line 5916
But with prise of Palomydon put all abake,
And fer in the fight fell hom the worse,
Vne boun fro þe batell busket to fle,
Vntill Ector eris hit entrid belyue
Line 5920
The great noise of þe noy, þat in note was.
He lepe on a light horse lyuely enarmyt,
And soght to þe se banke to socur his pepull;
Wode in his wrathe wynnys into batell!
Line 5924
All shone his shilde & his shene armur,
Glissenond of gold with a glayre hoge:
Thre lions the lord bare all of light goulis,
Þat were shapon on his shild, shalkes to be|holde.
Line 5928
He gird to the grekes with a grym yre;
In the brest of the batell, þere buernes were thicke,
He ffrusshet so felly freikes to ground;
Made wayes full wide þe weghis among;
Line 5932
Shot thurgh the sheltrons, shent of þe pepull.
To Prothesselon he preset, þat pepull hade slayn,
And myche wo had wroght on þe wild troiens.
THE DETHE OF PROTHESSOLON BY ECTOR SLAYN.
He swappit at hym swithe with a swerd felle;
Line 5936
Hit on his hede a full hard dynt;
Clefe þurghe the criste & the clene maile;
