¶ Hic Achilles occidit Troylum.
Off Gryffons come ther many a knyȝt [folio 219b]
Line 14857
And halp the Murimdones with her myȝt.
¶ Achilles—lord! that he was glad!
Off alle the world no more he bad!
Line 14860
He come ridande on his stede,
Off sir Troyle toke he gode hede
How he sclow doun right his men
That thei lay dede In the fen.
Line 14864
'Turne the'—he seyde—'fals gadelyng!
Thow schalt now dye—by heuene kyng!
My dispite schaltow sore abigge!
Kepe the fro me! I the sigge.'
Line 14868
¶ Thei drow her swerdes that were gode
And hew to-gedir as thei were wode,
The rede blod ran by here side,
Thei made hem woundes longe & wyde:
Line 14872
Achilles hewys In-two his mayles,
The rede blod afftir rayles;
He hew the helme al of his hede,
His scheld sone he him be-reued.
Line 14876
But Troyle defendis him by his myȝt
With al his strengthe, that gentil knyȝt.
BVt Achilles was so strong
That he myȝt not endure long,—
Line 14880
No man myght to him come
For Murimdones that stode athrome,
The Gregeis also with al here myght[es]
Passyng twenty thousand knyghtes.
Line 14884
¶ Troyle was wery [y seems to be corrected from i.] , he myght not sitte,
He was al faynt & out of witte
For the blod that he gan blede,
Tho fel he doun of his stede.
Line 14888
Achilles tho lyght glad ynow
And his noble swerd out-drow
