Him thoght his herte gan to breke; [folio 150a]
Line 10129
He stode longe, or he myght speke,
For sorwe & care that he hadde hent,
When he wiste what the dreme ment.
Line 10132
'Whether I schal,' he sayde, 'alas!
Lese my Ioye & my solas,
Mi defence & my socour,
And lede my liff In dishonour,
Line 10136
In wo, & drede, & paynes strong,
And alle that euere vn-to me long,
¶ Scholde I now lese my gode sone?
I schal him helpe, if I cone,
Line 10140
That he this day go not to fyght
On hors ne fote,—by god al-myght!—
That he die neuere for vnhap.
For if he may this on day sckap,
Line 10144
Wele wot I that he schal schende
Alle his fos & saue his frende.
¶ For may he passe his destane,
Conquerour then schal he be
Line 10148
Off his fo-men, thei schal hem ȝelde
To him & his and fle the felde.'
THe sonne be-gynnes on hye to schyne,
Troiens ar alle set to dyne,
Line 10152
Thei ben serued with many a coupe;
Euel schal thei or euen droupe,
For thei schal se or euen ded
The beste body that euere ete bred.
Line 10156
¶ Ector ordeynes his batayles alle,
He biddis hem Troyle to him calle;
And he come to him faste ridande,
With helme on hed & spere In hande,
Line 10160
Armed wel In iren wede.
Ector bad that he scholde lede
