The tragedies, gathered by Ihon Bochas, of all such princes as fell from theyr estates throughe the mutability of fortune since the creacion of Adam, vntil his time wherin may be seen what vices bring menne to destruccion, wyth notable warninges howe the like may be auoyded. Translated into Englysh by Iohn Lidgate, monke of Burye.

The .xxvi. Chapter.

¶ Home Cresus and Balthasar were van∣quyshed by Cyrus, and the sonne of Cresus slayne at the hun∣tynge of a bore.

NExt to Ihon Bocas within a throw, Wrytyng of princes many a pitous fate, He sawe king Cresus with other on the row, Lowly besechyng his fallyng to translate: And howe fortune agayne hym gan debate, And of his mischefe doleful for to rede, For to discriue, anone he gan procede.

For as it is remembred in writyng, As god and kynde lyst for hym ordayne, Of Lide he was gouernour and kynge, And lordshyp had (the storye can not fayne) Of many kingdoms more than one or twain: Fame in that tyme so dyd hym magnify, That he was called floure of al chiualry.

And he was also in hys tyme founde The most expert in werre & in batayle, And of richesse was the most habounde And most excellynge in conquest to preuayle: Plenty of people, wyth royal apparayle, And with al this to his great auauntage, Numbre of childre tenblysse hys lynage.

In the most highest of his royal see, And at was well & nothyng stode amis, Yet to amenuse his felicite, A dreme he had, and truely that was thys: How that his sonne which called was Athis Was take from hym, & by mortal outrage Slayne sodenlye in his tendre age.

This woful dreme dyd him great distres, And put his hert in great dispayre, Standyng in feare & great heauines, Bycause hys chylde, rendre, yonge, & fayre Which that was borne for to be hys heyre Shoulde causelesse in suche myschefe die, So as his dreame afore dyd specifye.

Of this processe to declare more How Cresus dreme fulfylled was in dede, From Olimpus there came a wylde bore, Most furious and sauagine of drede, Wyth fomy tuskes which fast gan him spede, Downe discendyng & no where lyst abyde, Tyl that he came in to the laude of Lyde.

And gan distroy their frutes & their vines, Where euer he came in any maner place, Brake the nettes & the stronge lynes Of the hunters that dyd at hym enchace: But vnder supporte of the kynges grace Hys sonne of whom I spake tofore, Gate him licence to hunt at this bore.

Hys father Cresus demynge of this ease, There was no cause of drede in no maner, Though hys sonne were present at the chase With other hunters suche game for to lere, But aye fortune wyth her double there, Is redy euer by some fatall trayne, At such disportes some mischefe to ordayne.

For one there was whych had gouernance Vpon this chylde to wayte and to se, Chasyng y^• bore to saue hym fro myschaūce From al domage and aduersite, With many lusty folke of that countre, With hornes, hoūdes, & sharpe speres groūde, Sekyng the bore tyl they had hym founde.

And as they gan fiersly the bore enchace, He that was charged to be the chyldes gyde As with his speare he gan the bore manace, The head not entred but forth gan to glyde,

And on the chylde whych that stode besyde The stroke a lyght, and or he dyd auerte The speres heade rofe hym through the hert.

But of this chylde whan y^• deth was couth, Tolde and reported holy the manere, How he was slayne in hys tendre youth, Borne to be heire vnto his father dere, Cresus for sorow chaunged loke & chere: And for constraint of dole in his vysage, He resembled a very deade ymage.

But euery sorowe by long continuaunce At the last it sumwhat must aswage, For ther is none so furious greuance Nor so mortal importable rage, But long processe yeueth him auantage: I meane thus, there is none so great a sorow, But it mought cese outher eue or morowe.

Philosophers concluden and discerne And by their reasons recorden by scripture, Thyng vyolent may not be eterne, Not in one poynt abydeth none auenture, Nor a sorowe may not alwaye endure: For stoūdemele through fortunes variaunce, There foloweth ioy after great greuaunce.

The sorow of Cresus tho it were intollerable And at his hert the greuaunce sate so sore, Syth that his dole was irrecuperable, And meane was none his harmes to restore, Bochas writeth of his wo nomore: But of his fal howe he fyll in dede, To tel the maner forth he doth procede.

And for a whyle he set his style asyde, And his processe in party he forbare, To speke of Cresus that was kyng of Lyde And gan resort to write of Balthasar: Agayne rehersynge or that he was ware, Howe myghty Cirus of woful auenture Made on hym proudly a discomfiture,

And as it is put in remembraunce Of Balthasar to holde vp the party, Cresus wyth hym had made an aliaunce, With al his puissaunce & al his chyualry: His lyfe, his treasoure, to put in ieoparty, Sworne in armes as brother vnto brother, By Cirus vēquyshed the one after the other

Both their mischefe no lenger was delayed, Al be that Cresus faught long in hys defence, He finally by Cyrus was outrayed, And depriued by knyghtly vyolence, Take in the felde there was no resistence, And rigorouslye to his confusion, With myghty fetters cast in darke prison.

And more to encrease his gret aduersite, A sonne of his tendre & yong of age, That was dumbe from his natiuite, And neuer spake word in no maner lāgage, Cyrus commaunding by furious outrage That Cresus shoulde by vengeable cruelte, By a knyght of Perce in prison headed be,

And with his sworde as he gan manace, Cresus to haue slayne wythout al reuerence, The dombe chylde there present in the place Which neuer had spoken, thus said in audiēce: Withdrawe thy stroke, & do no violence, Vnto my lorde thy fame so to confounde, To slee a kyng that lyeth in prison bound.

The knight astonied hath his stroke forborne Gretly abashed in that darke habitacle, Whych herde a chyld that neuer spake toforne Agaynst his swerde to make au obstacle, Ran and tolde this marueylous myracle To myghty Cirus, with euery circūstaūce, Hopyng therby to atempre his greuaūce.

But where as tyrauntes be set on cruelte, Their croked malice ful harde is to appese: So indurate is their iniquite That al in vengeaunce is set their hertes ese, Them selfe reioysinge to se folke in disease, Lyke as they were in their frowarde daūger, Clerely fraunchised fro god & his power.

Thys cruel Cirus most vengeable of desire, To execute his fel entent in dede, Let make in haste of fagottes a gret fyre, And gan thē kyndle wyth many coles rede, And made Cresus quakyng in his drede, For to be take where as he lay ful lowe, And bad men should in to the fyre him throw.

But Iupiter whych hath his vengeaūce seyn, Howe cruel Cirus with malice was attaynt, From heauen sent a tempest and a reine, That sodainely y^• horrible fire was quaynt: Woful Cresus w^t dredful fyre made faynt, Escaped is his furious mortall payne, God and fortune for hym lyst so ordayne.

This aduenture in maner marueylous, The hert of Cirus gan somwhat tenbrace, And caused hym for to be pitous Agayne Cresus, and granted him hys grate, To occupye whyle he hath lyfe and space, The land of Lyde, except only thys thynge He shoulde not after be called kyng.

And thus of Lyde the kynge dyd fyne, Which toke his beginyng of one Ardisius, And endured the space of kynges nyne, Loke who so wyl the bokes tel thus: Hereof no more but forth vnto Cirus, I wyl procede wyth al my busy cure, For to translate hys woful auenture.