Euery a lord with his ost, [folio 246a]
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Proudly pyght lest and most.
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¶ And thei of Troye were comen out
With-oute drede or any dout,
Off here enemys hadde thei no drede.
Bothe the parties to-gedur ȝede,
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A wicked werre thei ther by-gan,
Thei sclow ten thousand, er thei blan.
NOw are thei to-gedir samen,
Alle on ernest & not on gamen;
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Now are thei to-gedir broght,
A woful day schal ther be wroght:
The speremen ride, the bowemen schote,
Thei fel faste ded at horses fote,
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The swordmen smyte & strokes ȝeue,
Helmes breke, & scheldes cleue.
¶ Lordes & laddes lesen her lyues,
Echon other rendis & ryues;
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A bitter bale haue thei be-gonne,
Now this folk to-gedir is ronne.
Ther were bowes al to-broken [MS. alto broken.] ,
Stedis stiked & thorow-stoken,
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Helmes holed, & heuedis houen,
Knees & cropes with knyues clouen,
Schonkes schyuered, schuldres schorne,
Blodi burnes In bostis borne;
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With ferli fare tho freykes ferde,
Off suche an hepe neuere I herde.
¶ Pirrus prikes aboute & praunses,
Fro man to man aboute he launses
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Al his strengthe for to assay,
He dud gret harm on hem that day;
His fader Armes that day he bare.
Off Palamides so was he ware
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