Of Hercules.
OF Hercules the soueraigne Conquerour,
Singen his werkes, laud, and high renown:
For in his time, of strength he bare ye flower,
He slough and raft the skinne of the lion,
And of the Centaurs laid the boste adowne:
He Harpias slew, the cruell birds fell,
He the golden apples raft fro the dragon:
He drew out Cerberus the hound of hell.
He slew the cruell tirant Busirus,
He made his horse to fret him flesh & bone:
He slough the very serpent venemous:
Of Achelous two hornes brake he that one.
And he slew Cacus in a caue of stone,
He slough the gyant Antacus the strong,
He slough the grisely Bore, and that anon,
And bare his head vpon his speare long.
Was neuet wight sith the world began,
That slough so many monsters, as did he,
Throughout the wide world his name it ran,
What for his strength, & wt for his bounte,
And euery realme went he for to see,
He was so strong, yt no man might him let,
And at both worlds ends, he for Trophe
In stede of bounds, of brasse a pillour set.
A lemman had this noble champion
That hight Deianire, as fresh as Maie:
And as these clerkes maken mention,
She hath him sent a shert fresh and gaie:
Alas this shert, alas and well awaie
Envenomed was subtilly withall,
That er he had weared it halfe a day,
It made his flesh all fro his bones fall.
But nathelesse, some clerkes her excusen
By one that hight Nessus, that it maked:
Be as may be, I woll her not accusen,
But on his body the shert he were al naked,
Till the flesh was with the venim slaked:
And when he saw non other remedie,
In hote coles he hath himselfe iraked,
For with no venim dained he to die.
Thus sterfe this worthy mighty Hercules.
Lo, who may trust in fortune any throw,
For him that foloweth of the world the pres,
Or he beware, is oft laid full lowe:
* Full wise is he, that himselfe can know.
Beware, for when that fortune list to glose,
Then waiteth she her man downe to throwe
By such a way, as he would least suppose.