The seven sages in English verse / edited from a manuscript in the public library of the University of Cambridge by Thomas Wright.

A TALE OF THE MAYSTER.

He sayed how ther was a knyght, A ryche man of gret myghte, And had a good womman to wyf, And a womman of good lyf. Bytwen thaym thare cam a ayer, [ 730] A good child and a fayre, And ȝonge hagge hit was, A twelmowth holde it was. Ther was no thing syrcurliche, That the knyght lovyd so myche. The knyght hadde another juel, That he lovyd swyth wel, A grewhond that was good and snel, And the knyght lovyde hit wel, And was swyth good of dede. [ 740] To alle bestis that he to ȝode; And for his godnesse he was lore, And the knyght was sory ther-fore. [The] knyght ordaynde a day, In a tyme, hit was in May, Elcon with othir wolde play, And fond to breke a schaft or twey. The knyght of hit [herde] tell, In his felde thay wolde dwelle, Ryght a lytil fram his halle, [ 750] Ther thay were asembild alle; Al that in the court was, Wente to see the solas, Save the childes norises two,

Thay ne durst nower ware goo. Wen thay seen al ware goo, And noman leved bot thay two, And herdyn tronpe and taburne, Thay forgate hare honoure; Thay left the childe anon tho, [ 760] And dyde ham bothe forth goo, In a toure thay clymbyd on hyghe Pryvyliche tha[t] no man see; Thare thay stode both stille, And seen the gam al at wille. In the court ther was wrowt An olde toure that servyd of nouȝt, And in a crevas there was brede A nedder, and hadde there-in a bedde. Tho the nadder wok and herde [ 770] Al the pepyl how hit ferde, Trumpe, tabur, and melodye, And heraudis loude crye, The nadder sowt way ower alle, Til scho come out of the walle. Out of the walle scho came, Into the halle the way scho name, And drow hym toward the credile ther-byne, To sle the child that was ther-inne. Toward the credyl as he suythe, [ 780] The good grew-hond lay and syȝe, And was swyth wrothe withalle That he cam into the alle. The grewhond stood uppe anon,

And to the naddir he gan goon; Ther thay faugthen togydir long, And ayther wondid othyr strong. As thay foghten, here ȝe moun, The credyl went uppe-so-doun; The credyl uppone the pomels stoode, [ 790] The child hadde nought bote goode; Hyt no woke, no hyt no wyppe, Bote alle stille and sleppe. The grewhond ȝede the worme so nyghe, That into the ȝerd the worme flyghe; The grewhonde sewed hym so faste, That he slew hym at the last. Tho the naddir was falle, The grewhonde layde hym in the halle, Evelle wo[n]dyd over alle, [ 800] And for sothe he lay and ȝal. When the justis were doon, The norise hiede ham in ful sone, Thay ne durst no langer dwelle, Thay fande the grewhond lye and ȝelle, And ferd as he were wodde, And hys hed al by-bledde; Thay two norise was were and seghe, The credyl bothume turnyd on hyghe, And sawe the grewhond al by-bled, [ 810] Thay war both sore a-drede. "Felaw," scho sayed, "be my blode, Thys grewhond his waxyn woode, And hase eten the childe ther-fore:

Alas! that ever we were bore!" The tother noris sayed i-wis, "Certis, felaw, sothe hit his: Alas! that stonde," sayde schoe, "That we ȝeden justys to see!" Thay were ful of sorow and wo, [ 820] And dyde thaym bothe for to goo. As thay flowen toward the felde, The lavydy lay and byhelde, And hyre herte bygane to colde, As womman herte sone wolde; And wondird wat hit myght bee, Tho he segh hir noris flee; And clepid hir anoon a swayn, And badde hym faste fete the noris agayne. Byfore the lady thay were brought; [ 830] The lavydy was sory in hire thoght, And askid ware the childe was. And thay veppe and sayed, alas! "Certis, dam," quod that oon, "As wel mow we telle anoon: My lordis grewhond his wexen wode, And hase etten hym flesche and blode." The lady swyth sory was, And bygan to cry, alas. The lord herde the lady crye, [ 840] And thydirward he gan hye, And sayed, "Dam, wat is this fare? Tel me anoon, nought no spare." The lady, that was so woo,

Sayed to hyre lorde tho, "Sire," ho sayed, "sycurlyche, The childe that thou lovedest so myche, Thy grewhond has waxen woode, And hase eten hym flesche and blood." Than was the lorde sory i-nowe; [ 850] In towarde the halle he hym drowe, And the lady with hym nam. Into the halle sone he kam: The grewhond hys lorde syghe, And sete bothe hys fete on hyghe Oppon hys brest to make solas; And the more harme was. The knyght drow out hys swerd anoon, And smot out the rygge boon. The knyght comanded anoon ryght, [ 860] Bere the cradyl out of hys syght. Ther stood a man that was glad To do that the knyght bade, And bare the credyl out in hys arme, And sawe the childe hadde no harme. In hys arme the childe he hent, And into the halle he went, And sayed, "Alas, thy good grewhond! Hire isti sone hole and sounde." Tho that weren in the halle [ 870] Hadden grette wondyr alle, That the chylde on lyve was, And sayden hit was a wondir cas. At the last thay fanden alle,

How the cas was byfalle, How the naddir was y-slawe, That the grewhond hadde to-drawe. "Alas!" quod the knyght tho, "My good grewhond hys a-goo." The knyght was sory ther-fore, [ 880] That hys grewhond was for-lore; Into hys horchard thay way he nome, And to a fische-pole he come, And for dule of hys hounde He lepe in and sanke to gronde. "Sire," quod maystir Baucillas, "Now thow havest herde this cas, Yf thow wolt thy sone spille, For to suffyre thy wyves wylle, Also mote the byfalle [ 890] As dyde the knyght in hys halle, That slew hys hounde and lyse hys lyfe, For a worde of hyse wyfe." Tho the emperour herde Of that tale, how hit ferde, He sayed, "Maystir Baucillas, Me ne schal nouȝt bytyde that cas For no word of my wyf, To day ne schal he lyse hys lyfe; No nouȝt he ne schal by boundon so sore, [ 900] Arre I have inqueryd more." Thus thorow the maystir Baucillas, That day the childe savyd was. Myghte no man the lady glade,

Scho syghyd and sory semlant made, And was sory in hyre thought That the childe agayne was brought, And bythought hire agayens nyght, And dyd thare-to alle hyre myghte, To brynge the emperour in wille [ 910] Uppon morwen the childe to spylle. In bede than thay were brought, "Sire," scho sayed, "What have ȝe thoght? Ne see thou nouȝt with thyn eyen Were I was in poynt to deyen, As thy sone me wolde a schent, That hys agayn to prison sente. Also mote bytyde the, As dyde the bore undyr the tre, That was clavyd, and thought hit gode, [ 920] And lese ther-fore hys hert blode." Quod the emperour to hys wyfe, "Dame, lete be thy stryf, And tel me nowe, I the byde, Of the bore how hit bytydde. And Anoon hire tale by-gane.