¶ Hic venit Ector cum populo suo ad prelium.
That Segamon his liff for-ȝede [folio 67b]
Line 4517
And fel doun ded by his stede.
He rod forth & lefft him lygand,
To the batayle faste smytand;
Line 4520
¶ He sclow the Troyens—as he were wod—
And schedde wel mochel of here blod,
That thei myght suffre no lenger;
Tho were the Grues wel the strenger,
Line 4524
On euery a syde the Troiens flede;
Then thei were hard be-stede,
With mochel noye and wo thei fauȝt.
The Gregeis then toke a drauȝt
Line 4528
Toward the toun ney halff a myle,
Many a Troyen died that while.
¶ The noyse was moche & gret clamour;
Ector herde hem make sorow,
Line 4532
For tene his herte began to bollen,
And bothe his chekes gret swollen;
He toke his armes and his atyre,
That were as bryght as siluer wyre;
Line 4536
A better man was neuere on molde,
He bar a scheld of rede golde,
With thre lyons paynted ther-In;
A delful note he thoght be-gyn.
Line 4540
ECtor [MS. EEtor.] is armed, his stede be-strode,
He rod forth with-oute a-bode,
Toward his men gan he gange,
Him thoght he dwelled ther to longe.
Line 4544
He saw the Troyens faste fleand,
He rod to hem faste criand
And bad: "thei scholde a-ȝeyn turne,"—
'Drede ȝow not ȝoure enemys sturne!'
Line 4548
Ihesu lord! what thei were glad,
When thei here noble leder had!
