Sir Isumbras

A roller-coaster of a tale, presented as a satire that can be reasily told for laughs as meifrotune piles upon misfortune for the poor Sir Isumbras.

In Halliwell-Phillipps, The Thornton romances, 1844

James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps, The Thornton romances: the early English metrical romances of Perceval, Isumbras, Eglamour, and Degrevant: selected from manuscripts at Lincoln and Cambridge, 1844, pp. 88-120

THE ROMANCE OF SIR ISUMBRAS.

[f. 109] Here begynnes the Romance off Syr Ysambrace.

I.

JHESU Crist, Lorde of hevene kynge,
Graunte us alle his dere blyssynge,
And hevene unto oure mede!
Now, hende in haule, and ȝe wolde here
Of eldirs that by-fore us were,
That lyffede in arethede,
I wille ȝow telle of a knyghte,
That bothe was stalworthe and wyghte,
[And worth]ily undir wede:
His name was hattene syr Ysambrace,
Swilke a knyghte als he was
Now lyffes nowrewhare in lede.

II.

He was mekille mane and lange,
With schuldirs brode and armes strange,
That semly were to see;
So was he bothe faire and heghe,
Alle hym loffede that hym seghe,
Se hende a mane was hee!
He luffede glewmene wele in haulle,
He gafe thame robis riche of palle,
Bothe golde and also fee;
Of curtasye was he kynge,
Of mete and drynke no nythynge,
One lyfe was none so fre.

III.

Als fayre a lady to wyefe had he
Als any erthly mane thurte see,
With tunge als I ȝow nevene;
Knave childire had thay thre,
Thay were the faireste that myghte be
Undir the kynge of hevene!
Bot in his hert a pride was broghte,
Of Goddis werkes gafe he noghte,
His mercys for to nevene;
So longe he reyngned in his pride,
That God wolde no lenger habyde,
To hym he sent a stevene.

IV.

It felle so appone a daye,
The knyghte went to the wode hym to playe,
His foreste for to see;
And als he come by a derne sty,
A fowle herde he synge one hy
Fulle heghe upone a tree,
And said, “ Welcome, syr Ysambrace,
Thou hafes forgetyne whate thou was,
For pride of golde and fee!
The kyng of hevene gretis the soo,
Werldes wele the bus for-goo,
In elde or ȝouthe thou salle dry woo,
Chese whethir es lever to thee!”

V.

With carefulle herte and sygheyngez sare,
The knyghte felle on his knes al bare,
And bothe his handis uphelde :—
“ Werldes wele I wille for-sake,
And to Goddes mercy I me bytake,
To hym my saule I ȝelde!
In ȝouthe I maye bothe ryde and goo,
When I ame aide I may nott so,
My lymmes wille waxe unwelde;
Now, Lorde, ȝif it thi wille bee,
In ȝowthede penance send thou mee,
And welthe appone myne elde!”

VI.

The foule thane toke ane heghe flyghte,
Alle-one he leved that drery knyghte,
And sone he went awaye;
And whenne he of the fowle had no syghte,
His stede, that was bothe stronge and wyghte,
Sone dede downe undir hym laye.
His hawkes and his howndis bothe,
Wente to the wode, als thay were wrothe,
Ilkone a dyverse waye.
Whate wondir was thofe hym ware wo,
One fote now moste hym nedis goo,
To pyne turnes alle his playe!

VII.

And als he wente by a wod schawe,
Thare mett he with a lyttille knave
Come rynnande hym agayne;
And wele wers tythynges he hym tolde,
Brynned were alle his byggynges bolde,
His bestes werene alle slayne!
“ A! Lorde, ther es no thyng lefte one lyfe
Bot thi thre childir and thi wyfe,
The sothe es noghte to layne!”
The knyghte thane ansuerde with herte so vey,
“ With thi that I may one hir see,
My wyfe and my childire thre,
ȝitt was never mane so fayne.”

VIII.

Bot als he wente by hym allone,
His hirde-mene mett he everylkone,
With a fulle drery swoghe,
And saide thaire fee was fro thame revede,
“ Certis, syr, us es noghte levyde
A stotte unto ȝoure plowghe!”
Thay wepede sare and gaffe thame ille;
The knyghte bad thay solde be stylle,
“ I wytte ȝow noghte this woghe;
God that sent me alle this woo,
Wele hase he sent me also.
And ȝitt may send y-noghe!”

IX.

A dolefulle syghte the knyghte gane see
Of his wyfe and his childir three,
That fro the fyre were flede;
Alle als nakede als thay were borne
Stode togedir undir a thorne,
Braydede owte of thaire bedd.
Bot changede never the knyghttes blee,
To he sawe thame so nakede bee
He levyde so comly clede.
The lavedy bade hir childir be blythe,
“ I see ȝoure fadir ȝondir one lyve,
For nothynge that ȝe drede!”

X.

They wepede alle and gafe thame ille,
The knyghte bad thay solde be stylle,
“And wepe ȝe noghte so sore;
For alle the sorowe that we aryne inne,
It es like dele for oure syne,
We ware worthi wele more!
Bot we kane nonekyns werkes wyrke,
Owre frendis of us wille sone be irke,
Of lande I rede we fare;
Of my-selvene hafe I no thoghte,
Bot I may helpe my childir noghte,
For thame es alle my kare!”

XI.

The knyghte offe his mantille of palle,
And over his weyfe he lete it falle
With a fulle drery mode;
His riche surcote i-wysse schare he,
And gafe his pore childir thre,
That nakede byfore hym stode.
“ Now salle ȝe alle,” he said, “ do my rede,
To seke thare God was qwike and dede,
That done was one the rode;
For Jesus Criste so hende es he,
That who so sekes hym with herte fre,
He sendis thame lyves fode.”

XII.

And with a knyfe son gerte he schare
A crose appone his schuldir bare,
In storye als I ȝowe saye;
Alle those that there his frendis ware,
They wepid alle and syghede sare,
Thayre sange was waylawaye!
The knyghte and his lady hende
Toke lefe at thaire dere frendes,
And made thaire fondyrige daye;
For thame weped bothe olde and ȝynge,
Thare was a carefulle departynge,
And sythene thay went thaire waye.

XIII.

With thame tuke thay fulle littille gude
That myghte helpe tham to thaire lyves fode,
Nowther golde ne fee;
Bot in the lande to begge thaire mete,
Were so that thay myghte any gete
For saynte charite.
Fyve wokes thus them gunne thay over-passe,
Als it Jhesu Cristes wille was,
With thaire childir three;
Tho that are was wonte to wele and wyne,
The myschevous poverte that thay were inne
Grete dole it was to see!

XIV.

ȝitt in a wode thay were gone wylle,
Towne ne myghte thay none wyne tille,
Als wery als thay were;
Bot whenne thre dayes tille ende was gane,
Mete ne drynke ne hade thay nane,
Thay weped for hungre sore!
Nothynge sawe thay that come of corne,
Bot the floures of the thorne,
Up-one those holtes hore;
Thay entirde thane to a water kene,
The bankes were fulle ferre bytwene,
And watirs breme als bare.

XV.

The knyghte his eldeste sone tase there,
And over the water he hym bare,
And sett hym one the bryme;
And sayde, “ Luke, my sone, that thou be stylle,
To whils I feche thi brother the tille,
And playe the with the blome.”
The knyghte that was bothe hend and gude,
Agayne swythe over the water he wode,
His medille sone over to brynge;
So come a lyonne with latys un-mylde,
And in hir pawes scho hent the childe,
And to the wode faste gane rynne.

XVI.

Thane with carefulle herte and syghynge sare,
His medilmaste sone ȝit lefte he thare,
[And went wepynge aweye.]
Thus with sorowfulle chere and drery mode,
Agayne over the water he wode,
To pyne tornes alle his playe!
A labarde ther come and tuk that othir,
To the wode he bare hym to his brother,
Wyghtly he wente awaye!
The lady grette and gafe hir ille,
Nere scho wolde hir-selvene spille
One lande righte whare scho laye.

XVII.

The knyghte mase dole and sorowe y-noghe,
Nerehand he hym-selvene sloghe
Are he come to the banke;
And the lady grett and gafe hir ille,
Nowther of tham myghte other stille,
Thaire sorowe it was fulle ranke!
Thay sayd, alias that thay were borne,
“ Felle werdes es layde us by-forne,
That are were wele and wanke!”
The knyghte bad scho sulde be stille,
And gladly suffir Goddes wille,
“ Us awe hym alle to thanke!”

XVIII.

Littille wondir thofe thame wo were,
For bothe thaire childir leve thay there,
[Hys lovely sonnes two.
Hys wyfe thane toke he there,]
And over the water he thane bare
His ȝongeste sone also.
And thurgh a foreste ȝode thay three,
And entred in towardeȝ the Greckes see,
Thare thay sawe stormes bloo:
And appone the lond thus als thay stude,
Thay sawe come saylande over the flode
A thowsand schippes and moo.

XIX.

And als thay stode so appone the lande.
And lokede in-to the see strande,
Those schippes sawe thay ryde
With toppe-castelles sett one lofte,
Of riche golde thame seined wroghte,
Stremours fro thame ferre gane glyde.
The sowdanne hym-selfe was therinne,
That Cristendome was commene to wynne,
Thare wakkyns woo fulle wyde!
The knyghte thoghte that he wolde wende
In-to that havene at ferrere ende,
A littille ther bysyde.

XX.

Those schippes landed by that land syde,
The folke come up with mekille pryde,
ȝaa moo thene I kane nevene;
The knyghte thane karpede to the lady free,
“ What maye thiese ferly folkkes bee?”
He spake with lowde stevene:
“ In this foreste lange hafe we gane,
Mete ne drynke myghte we gete nane
More thane thiese dayes sevene;
Aske we thiese folkes of thaire mete,
And luke ȝife we maye any gete
For Goddis lufe of hevene!”

XXI.

Untille a galaye thus gane thay wynne,
There the sowdane of those Sarazenes was inne,
That fulle richely was wroghte;
Thay askede hym some lyves fode
For His lufe that dyede on the rode,
And made this worlde of noghte!
The Sarazens said he was a spye,
Whenne that thay herde hym swa gates crye,
That thaire schippes had soghte;
The sowdane bade do hym awaye,
“ For thay lefe nott on owre laye,
Loke that ȝe gyffe hym noghte!”

XXII.

A knyghte saide to the sowdane kynge,
“ Now certis, syr, it es a wondir thynge
ȝone pore mane for to see;
For he es bothe lange and heghe,
The faireste mane that ever I seghe,
A knyghte hym semes to bee.
His wyfe es whitte as walles bone,
Hir lyre es als the see fome,
And bryghte als any blee.”
The sowdane than gret rewthe thoghte,
And command that thay solde be broghte,
He wolde hymselfe thame see.

XXIII.

Whenne he hir sawe, hym rewed sare,
So semly als thay bothe ware,
If thay were robed riche.
The sowdane byddes hym gold and fee,
“ If thou wille duelle and be with me,
And helpe me to my fyghte;
If thou be doghty mane of dede,
Thou salle be horssede on a stede,
My-selfe salle dube the knyghte!”

XXIV.

Fulle stille thane stode syr Ysambrace,
A Sarazene he sawe wele that he was,
And sone he sayde hym naye:
“ Certis, that salle I never mare
Agayne Crystyndomme fyghte no fare,
And lefe appone thi laye.
Now in this foreste hafe we gane,
Mete ne drynke we myghte gete nane,
This es the sevent daye;
I aske ȝow some lyves fode
For His lufe that dyed on rode,
And late us wende oure waye.”

XXV.

The sowdane sawe that lady thare,
Hym thoghte als scho an angelle ware,
That ware commene owte of hevene.
He saide, “ Wille thou selle thi wyffe to me?
And I wille gyff the golde and fee,
ȝaa more than thou kane nevene:
I salle the gyffe tene thowsand pownde
Of florence that bene rede and rownde,
And gud robes sevene;
And scho salle be lady of alle my lande,
And alle salle bowe hir to fote and hande,
And noghte withstande hir stevene.”

XXVI.

Sir Ysambrace sayd thane schortly, “ Naye,
My wyfe wille I nott selle awaye,
Bot mene me for hir slaa;
I wedded hir in Goddes laye,
To halde hir to myne endyng daye,
ȝaa bothe in wele and waa.”
The gold thane on his mantille thay talde,
And tille hyme-selfene thay gane it falde,
His wyefe thay tuke hym fraa;
And appone the lande thay hym kaste,
And bett hym tille his rybbis braste,
And made his flesche fulle blaa!

XXVII.

The littille childe one lande was sett,
And sawe how mene his fadir bett,
He wepid and was fulle waa.
The lady grete and gafe hir ille,
Unnethes thay myght halde hir stille,
That ne scho hir-selve walde slaa.
Hir armes scho sprede and lowde gane crye,
And ofte scho cryed one cure lady,
“ Salle we departe in two?
Allas! for salle I never blythe be,
My weddede lorde salle I never see,
Now wakyns alle my woo!”

XXVIII.

Whenne the wounded knyght myght up-stande,
He tok his childe by the hande,
Wepande awaye went hee.
A riche schippe was dighte righte ȝare,
The sowdane bad that lordes solde fare
With that lady so free;
The sowdane with his ownne honde
Crownned hir qwene of alle his londe,
And sent hir to his conntre:
A chartir was mad fulle wele farande,
The sowdane selide it with his hande,
That thofe he never come in his lande,
That scho solde qwene bee.

XXIX.

When the lady in schippe was ȝare.
Ever scho weped fulle selly sare,
And knelis byfore the kynge.
“ Sir kynge,” scho sayde, “ I pray the
A bowne that thou wille graunt to me,
Now at oure parttynge;
Mete and drynke thou gare tham gyfe,
A sevenyghte that thay myght with lyfe,
That littille childe and he.”
The sowdane grauntes, scho was fulle fayne;
[Scho callyd hir lorde to hir agayne,]
A rynge was thaire takynnyng.

XXX.

The lady was curtayse and mylde,
Scho blyssede hir lorde and hir childe,
And felle downe one hir knee.
Thay drewe up sayle of ryche hewe,
The wynde thame sonne owte of havene blewe
With that lady so free.
The wonded knyghte hym downe sett,
And for his wyfe fulle sare he grett,
Whils he thaire schipe myghte see.
And whenne the knyght myghte upstande,
He toke his childe by the hande,
And awaye thane faste went hee.

XXXI.

Sythene sett he hym downe undir a tree,
Unnethes myghte he with ehgne see,
So had he wepede sare!
Mete and drynke forthe he droghe,
He gafe his childe at ete y-noghe,
His hert thane was fulle sare;
In his mantille of skarlet rede
Y-mange his golde he did his brede,
And with hyme he it bare.

XXXII.

The knyghte come to a banke fulle drye,
And thare byhoves hym al nyghte to lye,
For ferrere myghte noghte he;
There come in the mournynge an egle flyande,
And sone the knyghtes mantille he fande,
And awaye therwith gane flye.
The knyghte folowed that egle to the see;
And that same tyde come an unycorne,
His ȝongeste sone away hase he borne,
Swylke sorowe that knyghte gane dree!

XXXIII.

Ofte was that knyghte bothe wele and woo,
Bot never ȝitt als he was thoo;
He sett hym one a stone.
With carefulle mode and drery stevene,
Unto the heghe kyng of hevene
Made he thane his mone.
“ A! Lorde,” he saide, “ fulle wo es me,
So faire childir als I hafede thre,
And nowe ame I lefte allone!
Now Gode, that beres the heghe crowne,
The waye he wysse me to some towne,
For fulle wille I ame of wone!”

XXXIV.

Bot als the knyghte went thorow a lawe,
Smethymene thore herde he blawe,
And fyres thore bryne and glewe;
He askede tham mete for charyte,
And thay bade hym swynke, “ And swa do we,
Hafe we none other ploghe.”
“ For mete,” he sayde, “ I wold wyrke fayne,”
The knyghte ansuerde fulle sone agayne,
“ Bathe bere and drawe y-noghe.”
Thane mete thay gafe hym fulle gud wone,
And thay garte hym here iryne and stone
Owte of a sory sloghe.

XXXV.

And thus bare the knyght iryne and stone
Unto the sevene wyntter were alle gone,
And wroghte hym-selvene fulle woo;
And untille that he couthe make a fyre,
And than thay gafe hym ȝomans hyre,
Wele more he wroghte thane twoo!
A smethymane thus was he thore
Fully sevene ȝere or more.
And blewe thaire belyes bloo;
And by that he hade hym-selfene dyghte
Alle the atyre that felle to a knyghte,
Bot that he was noghte horsed ryghte
To batelle whenne he solde goo.

XXXVI.

Alle those sevene ȝere, I undirstande,
The sowdane werreyede in Cristene lande,
And wakkenede woo fulle wyde;
The Crystene kynges hase fledde so lange,
To thay hafe getyne tham powere strange,
Those Sarazenes for to byde.
A daye of batelle than was sett,
That Cristyne and haythene samene solde mete
A littylle ther besyde.
Sir Ysambrace hym umbithoghte
Appone a horse that coles broghte
That he wolde thedir ryde.

XXXVII.

Bemes thane herde he blowe fulle lowde,
[And sawe knyghtes and beryns prowde,]
And swerdes drawene one lofte.
He sett hym downe appone his kne,
To Jhesu Criste than prayes he,
And enterely hym bysoghte:
“ Nowe, Lorde,” he saide, “ thou lene me grace in this felde,
ȝone heythene sowdanethatl may ȝelde
The woo he hase me wroghte!”

XXXVIII.

The knyghttes herte it was fulle gude,
And forthe he went with hardy mode,
And thryse he gonne hym sayne
For no wapene wolde he stynt;
There lyffede none that hent his dynt,
Tille that his horse was slayne.
Than the knyghte to the grownde soughte,
A Crystyne erle hym helpede one lofte,
And owte of the batelle he hym broghte
Untille an heghe mountayne;
And stoppede his wondis that gunne blede,
And sythene he horsede hym one a stede,
And thane he soghte agayne.

XXXIX.

Bot whenne he was horsede on a stede,
He sprange als any sparke one glede
With grymly growndyne gare;
The beryns he hitt appone the node,
Thorowe the breste-bane it wode,
And ȝit es sene whare his horse stode,
And salle be evermare!
Thane rode he up at ane heghe mountayne,
And thare the sowdane hase he slayne,
And many that with hym were;
Thre dayes and thre nyghttes
Agaynes the Sarazenes helde he fyghttes,
And the batelle ve[n]queste he thare.

XL.

And whenne the Sarazenes were alle slayne,
The Crystene kynges were fulle fayne,
Thay made thame gamene and glee.
The kyng thane askede after that mekille knyght,
That hase done so doghetyly in this fyghte,
That I may never hym see:
Erles and baronns thay hafe hym soghte,
And byfore the kynge thay hafe hym broghte,
A fulle sare wondide mane was hee!
The kyng his name faste fraynes thane,
“ Sir,” he saide “ I am a smethymane,
Whate es jour wille with me?”

XLI.

The kyng ansuerde the knyghte thane,
“ Wondir I hafe that any smethymane
In werre was ever so wyghte.”
The kynge bad that he solde hafe mete and drynke,
And alle that he wolde after thynke,
Tille he hade coverde his myghte;
And thane by his crowne the kyng sware,
That whenne he were coverde of his care,
That he wolde dubbe hym knyghte.
And at a nunrye the knyght was levede,
To hele the wondes in his hevede,
That he had in the fyghte.

XLII.

The nonnes of hym thay were fulle fayne,
For that he hade the Sarazenes slayne,
And those haythene houndes;
And of his paynnes sare gunne thame rewe,
Ilke a daye thay made salves newe,
And laid thame tille his wondes.
Thay gafe hym metis and drynkis lythe,
And helid the knyghte wondir swythe;
And within a lyttille stownde,

XLIII.

The knyghte purvayed bothe slavyne and pyke,
And made hymselfe a palmere lyke,
And thoghte that he wolde wende.
His leve he tuke, withowttyne lesse,
And thankede mekille the pryores,
And alle hir nunnes hende.
The righte waye thane takes he
To a havene of the Grekkes see,
Als Jhesu Cryste hym sende.
A schippe he fonde alle redy ȝare,
With a marynere alle bowne to fare,
In Acris gunne thay lende.

XLIV.

Whenne thay in that havene lenede,
With wery bones the knyghte up-wenede
In to that hay thene stede;
And sevene ȝere he was fully thore,
With hungre, and thriste, and bones sore,
In storye thus als we rede.
Fulle weryly thane ȝode he thore aye,
And wrechidly one nyghttis he laye
In his povre wede,
Goddes werkkes for to wyrke,
To serve Gode and haly kyrke,
And to mende hir are mysdede.

XLV.

So it by-felle hym sonne onone,
That alle a syde of a cunntré he hase thurgh gone,
Bot mete ne drynke couthe he gete none,
Ne house to herbere hyme inne;
Withowttene the burghe of Bedeleme,
He layde hym downe by a welle streme,
Fulle sore wepande for pyne.
And als he laye, abowte mydnyghte
Thare come an angelle faire and bryghte,
And broghte hym brede and wyne.
“ Palmere,” he sayse, “ welcome thou bee,
The kynge of hevene wele gretis the,
Forgyffene erre synnes thyne!

XLVI.

“ And welecome,” he sais, “ Syr Ysambrace!
Forgeffene es the alle thi tryspase,
For sothe als I the sayne!
And wele the gretis now oure hevens kynge,
And grauntes the nowe his dere blyssynge,
And byddes the torne agayne.”
The knyghte knelide thane appone his knee,
Jhesu Criste thane thankede hee,
He wepide so was he fayne:
Bot wyste he never whedirwarde to gonne,
For had he nowre no wonnynge wone,
Bot aye to walke in payne.

XLVII.

Sevene kynges landes hase he gone thurgh,
Untille he come tille a riche burgh,
Thare als a castelle inne stode;
Thenne herde he telle ther wonned a qwene,
That was a lady fayre and schene,
And grete worde of hir ȝode,

XLVIII.

That everylke a daye scho gyffes at hir ȝate,
To povre mene that golde wille take,
Fulle many fand scho there;
Ilkone hade a florence, noghte to layne;
Sir Ysambrace was never so fayne,
Hym hungrede never so sare!
Of povre mene that myghte ille goo,
Thay tuke inne welle a sexty or moo,
Of thame that sekeste were;
And in thay tuke syr Ysambrace,
At myschefe thay sawe wele that he was,
And of hym thame rewede sare.

XLIX.

The riche qwene in haulle was sett,
Knyghttes hir serves to handes and fete,
Were clede in robis of palle;
In the floure a clothe was layde,
“ This povre palmere,” the stewarde sayde,
“ Salle sytt abowene ȝow alle.”
Mete and drynke was forthe broghte,
Sir Ysambrace sett and ete noghte,
Bot luked abowte in the haulle.
So mekille he sawe of gamene and glee,
And thoghte what he was wonnt to be,
And terys lete he falle.

L.

So lange he salt and ete noghte,
That the lady grete wondir thoghte,
And tille a knyghte gane saye,
“ Bryng a chayere and a qwyschene.
And sett ȝone povre palmere ther-in,
That he to me telle maye
What tydans that he hase herde and sene
In haythynenes, whare he hase bene
In many a wilfulle waye.”
A riche chayere than was ther fett,
This povre palmere ther-in was sett,
He tolde hir of his laye.

LI.

And so nobilly he hase hir tolde,
That scho myghte frayne hym what scho wolde,
To whils that he there sett;
“ Now, palmere,” scho said, “ I salle the gyffe
Evermare whils I may lyfe,
Thou salle hafe clothe and mete,

LII.

“ And a mane to serve the daye and nyghte,
And a chambir faire and bryghte
Withinne the castelle walle.”
The palmere thankes that lady free,
And in hir courte thare thus duellys he,
And thankes God of alle.
He duellid there fulle many a ȝere,
Tille that he was bothe hale and fere,
And servede in that haulle;
He was mane bothe fayre and heghe,
Alle had wondir that hym see,
So stylle he was with-alle.
And when knyghtes went to put the stane,
Twelve fote over thaym everylke ane,
He keste it als a balle;
Therefore at hym thay hade envy;
A tornament than did thay crye,
Thay thoghte to do hym quede,
And schames dede with-alle.
That daye the tournament solde be stede,
Thay horsede hym on ane olde crokede stede,
And ȝitt for-thoghte thame alle.

LIII.

Bot by syr Ysambrace hade redyne thurgh the felde,
There was none that undir schilde
Durste mete his crokede stede,
That he ne gafe hym swylke a clowte,
That bothe his eghne stode one strowte;
Wele a sevene score garte he blede!
And some he keste into a slake,
That bothe braste neke and bakke,
And many flede for drede:
The qwene hirselfe at hym faste loghe,
And sayd, “ My palmere es styffe enoghe,
He es wele worthi to fede!”

LIV.

And so it byfelle ones appone a daye,
The palmere wente to the wode to playe,
Als it was are his kynde;
The palmere sawe a neste one heghe,
A rede clothe therinne he seghe
Owte-wappande with the wynde;
And to the neste thane gane he wynne,
His awene golde he sawe therinne,
His mantille thare gane he fynde.
With eghne whenne that he sawe the golde,
That his wyfe was fore solde,
His sorowe bygane to mene.

LV.

The golde unto his chambir he bare,
And hyd it fulle prevaly thare,
And wepande he went awaye;
And aye whenne he gunne the golde see,
He grette fulle sare for his lady,
And to pyne tornes alle his playe!
So lange the palmere lede that lyffe,
That with knyghtes it wexe fulle ryffe,
And to the lady thay gane it saye.

LVI.

And so it felle appone a daye,
The palmere went to the wode to playe,
His myrthis for to mene;
The knyghtes brake up his chambir dore,
And fande the golde right in the flore,
And bare it unto the qwene;
And als sone als scho saw it with syghte,
In swonyng than felle that swete wyghte,
For scho had are it sene!
Scho kyssede it, and sayde, “ Allas!
This golde aughte syr Ysambrace,
My lorde was wonte to bene!”

LVII.

Than scho to the knyghtes tolde,
How scho was for that golde solde,
And hir lorde was wondide sore;
“ Bot faste whenne ȝe the palmere see,
Dose hyme swythe to speke with me,
Aftir hym me langes fulle sore.”
The knyghtes gane brynge hym to the haulle,
The lady gane hym to concelle calle,
And fraystes at hym there,
“ Was thou ever gentylle mane?
Whare and howe that thou this golde wanne?”
His sorowe thane wexe the mare!

LVIII.

With dulefulle mode and herte fulle sare,
He gafe the lady ane ansuare,
And one his knee hym sett;
And a fulle nobille tale ther tille hir he tolde,
“ My wyfe was for this golde solde,
Myselfe was fulle sare bett!”
And downe than knelide the lady byfore his face,
And sayde, “ Welecome, my lorde syr Ysambrace!”
Fulle grete joye scho hade in herte.

LIX.

Thane aythir of other were so fayne,
That thay myghte no lengere layne,
Bot to the knyghtes it tolde;
Thane crownnede he was with riche gyfte,
And made hym kynge, that are was knyghte,
Over alle those knyghttes bolde.

LX.

And whenne he was kynge and bare the crowne,
He sent his sande fra towne to towne,
Tille ylke a ryche ceté,
And he gerte krye in borowes bolde,
Riche and povre, bothe ȝonge and olde,
That alle solde crystende bee;
And thay that wolde noghte do swaa,
He wolde thame bathe brynne and slaa,
Solde nothynge for thaire lyfe gaa,
Silvere, golde, nor fee!

LXI.

A riche kynge was syr Ysambrace,
In mare welthe thane ever he was
Of haythene landes thare;
Crystene lawes to kepe in that tyde,
Sandes he sente fulle ferly wyde
To thame that haythene ware.
Bot thay turnede alle tille ane assent,
That schortly there-to thayne wolde conscent,
Bot to a batelle fare.
Thay sayde, and thay myghte hym hent,
That he solde come to thaire perlement,
And there be bothe hangede and brynt,
And alle that with hym were.

LXII.

A daye of batelle thus was ther sett,
And alle the haythene ther was mett
Sir Ysambrace to slaa;
Fele Sarazenes semblede that tyde,
Frafele ferre costes to that batelle thay ryde
With knyghtes many and maa.
Sir Ysambrace was fulle of care,
He hade no mene with hym to fare,
His mene awaye gane gaa:
The Sarazenes faylede hym at that nede,
Be he was horsede one his stede
Thay were alle flede hym fraa.

LXIII.

Sir Ysambrace was thane fulle waa,
He kyssede his lady and wolde furthe gaa
With sorow and hert fulle sare;
A dolefulle worde thane gunne he saye,
“ Nowe, certis, lady, hafe now gud daye,
For nowe and evermare!”
“A.! lorde,” scho sayd, “helpe that I were dyghte
In armours, als I were a knyghte,
And with the wille I fare;
And God that made bothe see and lande,
My saule I wyte into thy hande,
For I kepe to lyffe no mare!”

LXIV.

Sone was the lady dyghte
In armours, als thofe scho were a knyghte,
And had bothe spere and schelde;
Agaynes thrytty thowsandez and maa
Come there nane bot thay twaa,
Nyne hundrethe sone hafe thay slayne!
And righte als thay solde hafe takene bee,
There come rydande knyghttes three
Appone thre bestes wylde;
One on a lebarde, another on a unycorne,
And one on a lyone he come by-forne,
That was thair eldeste childe!

LXV.

In angells wede were thay alle clede,
An angelle thame to the batelle lede,
That semely was to sene:
Thay slewe the haythene knyghttes swa,
And of the Sarazenes many alswa,
ȝa twentty thowsandez and thre.
Sir Ysambrace prayed the knyghtes swaa,
Hame with hym that thay walde gaa,
And be of his menȝé;
Thay ansuerde, als the angelle tham kende,
“ For the were we to the batelle sende,
Thyne awenne sonnes are wee! “

LXVI.

Ofte was syr Ysambrace wele and woo,
Bot never ȝitt als he was tho,
One knees than he hym sett;
He grett, and sayde wyth mylde stevene,
“ Thankede be the heghe kyng of hevene,
My bale thane hase he bett!”
Sir Ysambrace and that lady free
Kyssed alle thaire childir three,
Ilkane for joye thay grett;
Mare joye myghte never no mane see,
Thane men myghte one thame see,
In armes whenne thay were mett.

LXVIL.

A ryche ceté was there besyde,
And syr Ysambrace by fore gane ryde
His sonnes hame for to lede;
Chambirs fande thay faire and bryghte,
Robys faire and redy dyghte,
And thare thay chaunged thaire wede;
Riche metis wantted thame nane,
Nowther of wylde nor of tame,
Nor no riche brede.
Fyve landis thus gunne thay wynne,
And stabylde Crystyndome thame inne,
In storyes thus als we rede.

LXVIII.

A fulle riche kynge thane was syr Ysambrace,
And coverde he hase alle his myscas,
He lyffes nowe fulle richely;
Ilkane of his sonnes he gafe a lande,
Durste na mane agayne thame stande,
Whare so that thay solde fare.
Thay lyffede and dyed with gud entent,
And sythene alle tille hevene thay went,
Whenne that thay dede ware.
Praye we now to hevenes kynge,
He gyffe us alle his dere blyssynge
Nowe and evermare!

Amene. Amene.
Explicit Syr Ysambrace.

Halliwell-Phillips include several variants of the opening stanzas:

Halliwell-Phillipps, Notes

In Halliwell-Phillipps, The Thornton romances, 1844 :class: dropdown

James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps, The Thornton romances: the early English metrical romances of Perceval, Isumbras, Eglamour, and Degrevant: selected from manuscripts at Lincoln and Cambridge, 1844, pp. 267-273

L. 1. There are several early copies of this romance, differing considerably from each other. It would take too much space to point out all the numerous variations, but the commencing lines of each are here given.

Hynd in halle, yf ye wylle here
Of elders that befor hus were,
That gud were at nede;
Jhesu Cryst, Heven kyng,
Grant us alle thi blessyng,
And heven tylle owre mede.
I wylle yow telle of a knyȝt,
That was bothe harde and wyȝth,
And duȝty in every dede;
His name was callyd Ysumbras,
For seche a knyjth as he was
Non levys now in lede.

MS. Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh, 19. 3. 1.

[H]ende in halle, and ȝe schalle here
Of elders that be-forne us were,
There lyves how thei dyde lede,
I schall ȝow telle a wonder case,
Frendes, herkyns how it was,
ȝe schalle have heven to mede.
I wylle ȝou telle of a knyght,
That was both herdy and wyght,
A dughty mone he was;
Syre Isombras was his name,
A nobulle knyght of ryalle fame,
And stronge in every cas.

MS. Ashmole 61, f. 9.

Hic incipit de milite Ysumbras.

Hende in halle, and ȝe wole here
Off eldres that before us were, [There lyves how thei dyde lede.]
Jhesu Cryst, hevene kyng,
Geve hem alle hys blessyng, [And heven tille theire mede.]
I wole ȝow telle off a knyȝt,
That was bothe hardy and wyȝt, And doughty man of dede;
Hys name was callyd sere Ysumbras,
So douȝty a knyȝt as he was, Ther levyd non in lede.

MS. Coll. Caii Cantab. 175.

Here begynneth the hystorye of the valyaunte knyght syr Isenbras.

Lordynges, lysten and youe shall heare
Of elders that before us weare,
That lyved in lande and deede;
Jesu Chryste, heaven kynge,
Graunte them all hys dere blessinge,
And heaven to theyr meede.
Ye shall well heare of a knyght,
That was in warres full wight,
And doughtye of hys deede;
Hys name was syr Isenbras,
Manne nobler than he was
Lyved none with brede.

MS. Douce 261, f. 1.

God that made both erthe and hevene,
And alle this worlde in deyes sevene,
That is fulle of myȝthe;
Lende us alle his blessynge,
Lasse and more, olde and ȝynge,
And kepe us day and nyȝte!
I wylle 3ou telle of a knyȝte,
That dowȝty was in eche a fyȝte,
In towne and eke in felde;
Ther durste no man his dynte abyde,
Ne no man a3eyn hym ryde
With spere ne with schelde.

MS. Cotton. Calig. A. n. f. 128.

He that made both erthe and heven,
And al this worlde in daies sevyn,
That is ful of myghth;
Send us alle his blessyng,
Las and more, olde and yong,
And kepe us day and nyght!
Y wol you telle of a knyght,
That was douȝty in ilke fight,
In towne and eke in fielde,
Ther durst no man his dynt abide,
With spere ne with schilde.
Man he was riche y-nowe,
Ox to drawe in his plowe,
And stedis in his stalle;
Man he was curteyse and hynde,
Every man was his frende,
He was lord of alle.
Curteis and hynde he was,
His name was clepid sir Isombras.

MS. in the Royal Library at Naples.

The MS. last mentioned is described by Mr. Laing in the Reliq. Antiq. vol. ii. p. 67, and was apparently transcribed in the year 1457. To the same gentleman I am indebted for the account of the Edinburgh manuscript, and to the Rev. J. J. Smith for the extract from the copy in Caius College library. The copy in MS. Douce 261, was written as late as 1564, and probably copied from one of the early printed editions. Copland printed an edition of Isumbras, in 4to. no date, a copy of which is in Garrick’s collection of old plays in the British Museum; and one leaf of another early edition is preserved in Douce’s library. Copland’s edition has been reprinted by Mr. Utterson, in his “ Select Pieces of Early Popular Poetry,” 8vo. Lond. 1817, i. 77-112.

L. 16. So was he bothe faire and heghe. — The Caius College MS. reads, —

“ He was long man and heye,
The fayreste that evere man seye,
A gret lord was he.”

The MS. last mentioned is described by Mr. Laing in the Reliq. Antiq. vol. ii. p. 67, and was apparently transcribed in the year 1457. To the same gentleman I am indebted for the account of the Edinburgh manuscript, and to the Rev. J. J. Smith for the extract from the copy in Cains College library. The copy in MS. Douce 261, was written as late as 1564, and probably copied from one of the early printed editions. Copland printed an edition of Isumbras, in 4to. no date, a copy of which is in Garrick’s collection of old plays in the British Museum; and one leaf of another early edition is preserved in Douce’s library. Copland’s edition has been reprinted by Mr. Utterson, in his “ Select Pieces of Early Popular Poetry,” 8vo. Lond. 1817, i. 77-112.

L. 16. So was he bothe faire and heghe. — The Caius College MS. reads, —

“ He was long man and heye, The fayreste that evere man seye, A gret lord was he.”

L. 1 9. He luffede glewmene. — In the romance of Sir Degrevant are several curious notices of gifts to minstrels. See the present volume, pp. 180, 225, 254, and Sir Eglamour, p. 176. In “ Manners and Household Expenses,” p. 141, is printed a curious roll containing the names of the minstrels who played before Edward I. at Whitsuntide in 1306. They were divided into ranks, five of them being styled kings, each of whom had five marks. At p. 110 of that work mention is made of a valuable gold cup being given to a minstrel; but robes and garments were the more usual presents. See Piers Ploughman, ed. Wright, pp. 259, 274. The title of king [Percy, in the notes to his Essay, has collected much curious information relative to this title of the ancient minstrels.] was merely a popular dignity, and does not necessarily imply a greater degree of “ dignity” than Ritson allowed the old “ glewmene.” Like all professors of music and the light arts, the majority of them were always a wandering class of persons, whose manner of living must generally have excluded them from any rank in society. They were, however, of “ great admittance “ in the houses of the nobility. We have a curious instance of this in the romance of Orpheo, who, when he is questioned by the king of the fairies how he had the audacity to enter his palace, replies,

“ Syre,” he seyd, “ I trow wele
I ame hot a pore mynstrelle,
And ȝit it ys the maner off us,
For to seke to gret lordes hous;
And thoff we not welcome be,
ȝit we behovyth to profere our gle.”

Sir Orfeo, MS. Ashmole 61.

The reader will find a curious passage concerning the courtesy of the minstrels in the present volume, p. 242. For further information on the subject, see the dissertations of Percy and Ritson, Warton’s Hist. Engl. Poet. ed. 1840, ii. 309, &c. In the sixteenth century, the order had fallen altogether into disrepute. See Northbrooke’s Treatise, ed. Collier, p. 114.

L. 28. Knave.— “ Gentylle,” Edinburgh MS.

L. 47. Werldes wele. — This line is omitted in the Cottonian MS.

L. 71. Whate wondir was thofe hym ware wo. — This line occurs in other romances, as in Octavian, MS. Cantab. Ff. ii. 38, f. 84.

L. 79. His bestes werene alle slayne. — The Cottonian MS. reads, “ Thy menne be manye sleyne ;” and Copland’s edition, “ With venyme are they blowe,” i. e. swelled. See Malone’s Shakespeare, ed. 1821, xii. 425.

L. 102.* Alle als nakede als thay were borne.* — That is, they jumped out of their beds to avoid the fire. See 1. 104. The custom of sleeping without night linen has been so frequently illustrated, that a passing remark is all that is necessary. From the Norman Conquest to the time of Elizabeth night-gowns were scarcely known, both sexes sleeping quite naked. The Saxons, however, appear to have worn close shirts at night. See Wright’s notes to Piers Ploughman, p. 557; Sir F. Madden’s notes to Havelok, p. 198; Strutt’s Dress and Habits of the People of England, ed. Planché, ii. 224; Reynard the Foxe, ed. Thoms, p. 175.

L. 107. He levyde so. — “ That erste were,” MS. Cott.

L. 110. That. — MS. Cott. has “ be,” which seems a better reading.

L. 123. Offe. — Perhaps we should read “ tooke offe.”

L. 126. His.— “ Hir,” MS.

L. 137. I ȝowe. — “ Clerkes,” Cott. MS.

L. 143. And made thaire, &c. — The Cottonian MS. reads, “ And forth they wente her waye.”

L. 152. For saynte charité. — That is, “ for holy charity.” Later writers made a kind of allegorical saint of Charity. Ophelia sings, “ By Gis and by Saint Charity,” in Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 5; and Spenser writes, —

“ Ah! dear Lord, and sweet Saint Charity!
That some good body once would pity me.”

L. 185. This line, which is wanting in the original, has been supplied from the Cottonian MS. For went read wente.

L. 298. Hir to. — Perhaps we should read “ to hir.”

L. 300. Schortly naye. — So, in an inedited tale, —

When they come in hys presence, they seyde hym schortly nay,
For they knewe full wele hys lyfe, how he had levyd many a day.

MS. Cantab. Ff. ii. 38, f. 52.

L. 343. Mete and drynke. — This and the next triplet are transposed in the MS., but their present arrangement is necessary to the sense.

L. 347. “ The knyȝte was kalled aȝeyne,” Cott. MS.

L. 376. The knyghte folowed, &c.— The Cottonian MS. reads,—

“ The knyȝte was both hende and fre,
And folowed hym to the Grekes see,
Ther over the gryflyn he flyȝe.”

L. 380. Ofte was that, &c. — A kind of proverbial phrase occurring in other romances. It is repeated at p. 119.

Ofte hade Horn be wo,
Ah never wors then him wes tho.

Kyng Horn, 119-20.

L. 398. For mete, he sayde. — Perhaps it would be better to transpose this and the next line.

L. 498. A palmere lyke. — Compare the romance of Octavian, 1. 1357.

Pyk and palm, schryppe and slaveyn,
He dyghte hym as palmer, queynt of gyn.

Weber’s Met. Rom. iii. 214.

L. 520. Hir. — So in the MS., but probably an error for his.

L. 548. Inne stode. — The MS. reads “ stode inne,” but the metre requires our arrangement.

L. 606. To put the stane. — A game of considerable antiquity. Fitzstephen mentions casting of stones among the amusements of the young Londoners in the twelfth century. See Langtoft’s Chronicle, p. 26; Octavian, 895; Strutt’s Sports and Pastimes, ed. 1830, p. 75; Sir F. Madden’s notes to Havelok, p. 192.

L. 786. He gafe a lande.— In Copland’s version, the distribution to the three sons is more particularly described. See Mr. Utterson’s reprint, p. 112.

A rather more ornate version, at least in terms of typography, and apparently with minor corrections, based on Halliwell’s version can also be found in F. S. Ellís, Sir Ysambrace, 1897.

It is also interesting to compare two different “modern” English narrative versions of the complete tale, each interspersed with different verses from the the original metrical verse:

In Ellis, Specimens of early English metrical romances, 1811

George Ellis, Specimens of early English metrical romances, chiefly written during the early part of the fourteenth century; to which is prefixed an historical introduction, intended to illustrate the rise and progress of romantic composition in France and England, Vol. III, 1811, pp. 158-181

SIR ISUMBRAS.

The following romance is abridged from the MS. copy in the library of Caius College A 9, collated with the printed copy in Mr Garrick’s plays. It consists of 130 six-lined stanzas.

There was once a knight, who from his earliest infancy appeared to be the peculiar favourite of fortune. His birth was noble; his person equally remarkable for strength and beauty; his possessions so extensive as to furnish the amusements of hawking and hunting in the highest perfection. Though he had found no opportunity of signalizing his courage in war, he had borne away the prize at numberless tournaments; his courtesy was the theme of general praise, his hall was the seat of unceasing plenty; it was crowded with minstrels, whom he entertained with princely liberality, and the possession of a beautiful wife and three lovely children completed the sum of earthly happiness.

Sir Isumbras had many virtues; but he had one vice. In the pride of his heart he forgot the Giver of all good things, and considered the blessings so abundantly showered upon him, as the proper and just reward of his distinguished merit. Instances of this overweening presumption might perhaps be found in all ages among the possessors of wealth and power; but few sinners have the good fortune to be recalled, like Sir Isumbras, by a severe but salutary punishment, to the pious sentiments of Christian humility.

It was usual with knights to amuse themselves with hawking or hunting whenever they were not occupied by more serious business; and as business seldom intervened, they thus amused themselves every day in the year. One morning, being mounted on his favourite steed, surrounded by his dogs, and with a hawk on his fist. Sir Isumbras cast his eyes on the sky, and discovered an angel, who, hovering over him, reproached him with his pride, and announced the punishment of instant and complete degradation.

The terrified culprit immediately fell on his knees; acknowledged the justice of his sentence; returned thanks to Heaven for deigning to visit him with adversity while the possession of youth and health enabled him to endure it; and, filled with contrition, prepared to return from the forest. But scarcely had the angel disappeared when his good steed suddenly fell dead under him; the hawk dropped from his fist; his hounds wasted and expired; and being thus left alone he hastened on foot towards his palace, filled with melancholy forebodings, but impatient to learn the whole extent of his misfortune.

He was shortly met by a part of his household, who, with many tears, informed him that his horses and oxen had been suddenly struck dead with lightning, and that his capons were all stung to death with adders. He received the tidings with humble resignation, commanded his servants to abstain from murmurs against Providence, and passed on. He was next met by a page, who related that his castle was burned to the ground; that many of his servants had lost their lives; and that his wife and children had with great difliculty escaped from the flames. Sir Isumbras, rejoiced that Heaven had yet spared those who were most dear to him, bestowed upon the astonished page his purse of gold as a reward for the intelligence.

A doleful sight then gan he see;
His wife and his children three
Out of the fire were fled:
There they sat, under a thorn,
Bare and naked as they were born,
Brought out of their bed.
A wofui man then was he.
When he saw them all naked be.
The lady said, all so alive,
“For nothing, sir, be ye adrad.”
He did off his surcote of pallade, [Palata, Lat. Paletot, O. Fr. sometimes signifying a parlicular stuff, and sometimes a particular dress. See Du Cange.]
And with it clad his wife.
His scarlet mantle then shore he;
Therein he closed his children three
That naked before him stood.

He then proposed to his wife, that, as an expiation of their sins, they should instantly undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; and, cutting with his knife a sign of the cross on his naked shoulder, set off with the four companions of his misery, resolved to beg his bread till he shoukl arrive at the holy sepulchre.

After passing through “ seven lands,” supported by the scanty alms of the charitable, they arrived at length at a forest where they wandered during three days without meeting a single habitation. Their food was reduced to the few berries which they were able to collect; and the children, unaccustomed to such hard fare, began to sink under the accumulated difficulties of their journey. In this situation they were stopped by a wide and rapid though shallow river. Sir Isumbras, taking his eldest son in his arms, carried him over to the opposite bank, and, placing him under a bush of broom, directed him to dry his tears, and amuse himself by playing with the blossoms till his return with his brother. But scarcely had he left the place when a lion, starting from a neighbouring thicket, seized the child, and bore him away into the recesses of the forest. The second son became, in like manner, the prey of an enormous leopard; and the disconsolate mother, when carried over with her infant to the fatal spot, was with difficulty persuaded to survive the loss of her two elder children. Sir Isumbras, though he could not repress the tears extorted by this cruel calamity, exerted himself to console his wife, and, humbly confessing his sins, contented himself with prayng that his present misery might be accepted by Heaven as a partial expiation.

Through forest they went days three,
Till they came to the Greekish sea;
They grette, and were full wo!
As they stood upon the land,
They saw a fleet come sailand,
Three hundred ships and mo.
With top-castels set on-loft,
Richly then were they wrought,
With joy and mickle pride:
A heathen king was therein,
That Christendom came to win;
His power was full wide.

It was now seven days since the pilgrims had tasted bread or meat; the soudan’s galley, therefore, was no sooner moored to the beach than they hastened on board to beg for food. The soudan, under the apprehension that they were spies, ordered them to be driven back on shore: but his attendants observed to him that these could not be common beggars; that the robust limbs and tall stature of the husband proved him to be a knight in disguise; and that the delicate complexion of the wife, who was “ bright as blossom on tree,” formed a striking contrast to the ragged apparel by which she was very imperfectly covered. They were now brought into the royal presence; and the soudan, addressing Sir Isumbras, immediately offered him as much treasure as he should require, on condition that he should renounce Christianity, and consent to fight under the Saracen banners. The answer was a respectful but peremptory refusal, concluded by an earnest petition for a little food; but the soudan, having by this time turned his eyes from Sir Isumbras to the beautiful companion of his pilgrimage, paid no attention to this request ;

The soudan beheld that lady there,
Him thought an angel that she were,
Comen a-down from heaven:
“ Man! I will give thee gold and fee,
<* An thou that woman will sellen me,
“ More than thou can neven. [Name.]
“I will thee given an hundred pound
“ Of pennies that ben whole and round,
“ And rich robes seven:
“ She shall be queen of my land;
“ And all men bow unto her hand;
“ And none withstand her Steven.” [Voice.]
Sir Isumbras said, “ Nay!
“ My wife I will nought seli away,
“ Though ye me for her sloo!
“ I wedded her in Godis lay,
“To hold her to mine ending day,
“ Both for weal and wo.”

It evidently would require no small share of casuistry to construe this declaration into an acceptance of the bargain; but the Saracens, having heard the offer of their sovereign, deliberately counted out the stipulated sum on the mantle of Sir Isumbras; took possession of the lady; carried the knight with his infant son on shore; beat him till he was scarcely able to move; and then returned for further orders.

During this operation the soudan, with his own hand, placed the regal crown on the head of his intended bride: but recollecting that the original object of his voyage to Europe was to conquer it, which might possibly occasion a loss of some time, he delayed his intended nuptials; and ordered a fast-sailing vessel to convey her to his dominions; providing her at the same time with a charter addressed to his subjects, in which he enjoined them to obey her, from the moment of her landing, as their legitimate sovereign.

The lady, emboldened by these tokens of deference on the part of her new lord, now fell on her knees, and entreated his permission to pass a few moments in private with her former husband; and the request was instantly granted by the complaisant Saracen. Sir Isumbras, still smarting from his bruises, was conducted with great respect and ceremony to his wife, who, embracing him with tears, earnestly conjured him to seek her out as soon as possible in her new dominions, to murder his infidel rival, and to take possession of a throne which was probably reserved to him by Heaven as an indemnification for his past losses. She then supplied him with provisions for a fortnight; kissed him and her infant son; swooned three times; and set sail for Africa.

Sir Isumbras, who had been set on shore quite confounded by this quick succession of strange adventures, followed the vessel with his eyes till it vanished from his sight, and then, taking his son by the hand, led him up to some rocky woodlands in the neighbourhood. Here they sat down under a tree, and after a short repast, which was moistened with their tears, resumed their journey. But they were again bewildered in the forest; and, after gaining the summit of the mountain without being able to descry a single habitation, lay down on the bare ground, and resigned themselves to sleep.

The next morninor Sir Isumbras found that his misfortunes were not yet terminated. He had carried his stock of provisions, together with his gold, the fatal present of the soudan, enveloped in the remnant of his scarlet mantle; and scarcely had the sun darted his first rays on the earth, when an eagle, attracted by the red cloth, darted down upon the treasure and bore it off in his talons. Sir Isumbras, waking at the moment, perceived the theft, and for some time hastily pursued the flight of the bird, who, he expected, would speedily drop the heavy and useless burthen: but he was disappointed; for the eagle, constantly towering as he approached the sea, at length directed his flight towards the opposite shores of Africa. Sir Isumbras slowly returned to his child, whom he had no longer the means of feeding; but the wretched father only arrived in time to behold the boy snatched from him by a unicorn.

The knight was now quite disheartened. But his last calamity was so evidently miraculous, that even the grief of the father was nearly absorbed in the contrition of the sinner. He fell on his knees, and, uttering a most fervent prayer to Jesus and the Virgin, proceeded on his journey.

His attention was soon attracted by the sound of a smith’s bellows: he quickly repaired to the forge, and requested the charitable donation of a little food; but was told by the labourers that he seemed well able to work as they did, and that they had nothing to throw away in charity.

Then answered the knight again,
“ For meat would I swink [Labour.] fain!”
Fast he bare and drow; [Drew.]
They given him meat and drink anon.
And taughten him to bear stone:
Then had he shame enow.

This novitiate lasted a twelvemonth; and seven years expired before he had fully attained all the mysteries of his new profession. He employed his few leisure hours in fabricating a complete suit of armour; every year had brought to his ears an account of the progress of the Saracens; and he could not help entertaining a hope that his arm, though now so ignobly employed, was destined, at some future day, to revenge the wrongs of the Christians, as well as the injury which he had personally received from the unbelievers.

At length he heard that the Christian army had again taken the field; that the day was fixed for a great and final effort; and that a plain at an inconsiderable distance from bis shop was appointed for the scene of action. Sir Isumbras rose before day, buckled on his armour; and, mounting a horse which had hitherto been employed in carrying coals, proceeded to the field, and took a careful survey of the disposition of both armies. When the trumpets gave the signal for the charge, he dismounted, fell on his knees, and, after a short but fervent prayer to Heaven, again sprang into his saddle, and rode into the thickest ranks of the enemy. His uncouth war-horse and awkward armour had scarcely less effect than his wonderful address and courage in attracting the attention of both parties; and when, after three desperate charges, his sorry steed was slain under him, one of the Christian chiefs made a powerful effort for his rescue, bore him to a neighbouring eminence, and presented to him a more suitable coat of armour, and a horse more worthy of his heroic rider.

“When he was armed on that steed.
It is seen yet where his horse yede, [Went.]
And shall be evermore.
As sparkle glides offtlie glede, [Hot iron.]
In that stour he made many bleed,
And wrought hem wonder sore.
He rode up into the mountain.
The soudan soon hath he slain,
And many that with him were.
All that day lasted the fight;
Sir Isumbras, that noble knight,
Wan the battle there.
Knights and squires han him sought,
And before the king him brought;
Full sore wounded was he.
They asked what was his name;
He said, “ Sire, a smith’s man;
“ What will ye do with me?”
The Christian king said, than,
“ I trow, never smith’s man
“ In war was half so wight.”
“ I bid [Pray.] you, give me meat and drink,
“ And what that I will after think,
“ Till I have kevered [Recovered.] my might.”
The king a great oath sware,
As soon as he whole were,
That he would dub him knight.
In a nunnery they him leaved,
To heal the wounds in his heved.
That he took in that fight.
The nuns of him were ful fain;
For he had the soudan slain.
And many heathen hounds.
For his sorrow they gan sore rue;
Every day they salved him new.
And stopped well his wounds.

We may fairly presume, without derogating from the merit of the holy sisters, or from the virtue of their salves and bandages, that the knight’s recovery was no less accelerated by the pleasure of having chastized the insolent purchaser of his wife, and the author of his contumelious beating. In a few days his health was restored; and, having provided himself with a “ scrip and pike,” and the other accoutrements of a Palmer, he took his leave of the nuns, directed his steps once more to the “ Greekish Sea,” and, embarking on board of a vessel which he found ready to sail, speedily arrived in the port of Acre.

During seven years, which were employed in visiting every part of the Holy Land, the penitent Sir Isumbras led a life of continued labour and mortification; fed during the day by the precarious contributions of the charitable, and sleeping at night in the open air, without any addition to the scanty covering which his pilgrim’s weeds, after seven years’ service, were able to afford. At length his patience and contrition were rewarded.

After a day spent in fruitless applications for a little food,

Beside the burgh of Jerusalem
He set him by a well-stream,
Sore wcpand for his sin.
And as he sat, about midnight.
There came an angel fair and bright.
And brought him bread and wine;
He said, “ Palmrr, well thou be! “
The King of heaven greetrth well thee;
“ Forgiven is sin thine.”

Sir Isumbras accepted with pious gratitude the donation of food, by which his strength was instantly restored, and again set out on his travels: but he was still a widower; still deprived of his children, and as poor as ever; nor had his heavenly monitor afforded him any hint for his future guidance. He wandered therefore through the country, without any settled purpose, till he arrived at a “ rich burgh,” built round a “ fair castle,” the possessor of which, he was told, was a charitable queen, who daily distributed a florin of gold to every poor man who approached her gates, and even condescended to provide food and lodging within her palace for such as were distinguished by superior misery. Sir Isumbras presented himself with the rest; and his emaciated form and squalid garments procured him instant admittance.

The rich queen in hail was set;
Knights her served, at hand and feet,
In rich robes of pall:
In the floor a cloth was laid;
“ The poor Palmer,” the steward said,
“ Shall sit above you all.”
Meat and drink forth they brought;
He sat still, and ate right nought,
But looked about the hall.
So mickle he saw of game and glee,
(Swiche mirths he was wont to see)
The tears he let down fall.

A conduct so unusual attracted the attention of the whole company, and even of the queen, who, orderhig “ a chair with a cushion” to be placed near the Palmer, took her seat in it, entered into conversation with him on the subject of his long and painful pilgrimage, and was much edified by the moral lessons which he interspersed in his narrative. But no importunity could induce him to taste food: he was sick at heart, and required the aid of solitary meditation to overcome the painful recollections which continually assailed him. The queen was more and more astonished, but at length left him to his reflections, after declaring that “ for her lord’s soul, or for his love, if he were still alive,” she was determined to retain the holy Palmer in her palace, and to assign him a convenient apartment, together with a “ knave” or servant to attend him.

An interval of fifteen years, passed in the laborious occupations of blacksmith and pilgrim, may be supposed to have produced a very considerable alteration in the appearance of Sir Isumbras; and even his voice, subdued by disease and penance, may have failed to detect the gallant knight under the disguise which he had so long assumed. But that his wife (for such she was) should have been equally altered by the sole operation of time; that the air and gestures and accents of a person once so dear and so familiar to him, should have awakened no trace of recollection in the mind of a husband, though in the midst of scenes which paintully recalled the memory of his former splendour, is more extraordinary. Be this as it may, the knight and the queen, though lodged under the same roof, and passing much of their time together, continued to bewail the miseries of their protracted widowhood.

Sir Isumbras, however, speedily recovered, in the plentiful court of the rich queen, his health and strength, and with these, the desire of returning to his former exercises. A tournament was proclaimed; and the lists, which were formed immediately under the windows of the castle, were speedily occupied by a number of Saracen knights, all of whom Sir Isumbras successively overthrew. So dreadful was the stroke of his spear, that many were killed at the first encounter; some escaped with a few broken bones; others were thrown headlong into the castle ditch: but the greater number consulted their safety by a timely flight; while the queen contemplated with pleasure and astonishment the unparalleled exploits of her favourite Palmer.

Then fell it, upon a day,
The knight went him for to play,
As it was ere his kind;
A fowl’s nest he found on high;
A red cloth therein he seygh [Saw.]
Wavand in the wind.
To the nest he gan win;
His own mantle he found therein;
The gold there gan he find.

The painful recollection awakened by this discovery weighed heavily on the soul of Sir Isumbras. He bore the fatal treasure to his chamber; concealed it under his bed; and spent the remainder of the day in tears and lamentations. The images of his lost wife and children now began to haunt him continually; and his altered demeanour attracted the attention and excited the curiosity of the whole courf, and even of the queen, who could only learn from the Palmer’s attendant that his melancholy seemed to originate in the discovery of something found in a bird’s nest. With this strange report she was compelled to be satisfied, till Sir Isumbras, with the hope of dissipating his grief, began to resume his usual exercises in the field: but no sooner had he quitted his chamber than the “ squires” by her command broke open the door, discovered the treasure, and hastened with it to the royal apartment.

The sight of the gold and of the scarlet mantle immediately explained to the queen the whoJe mystery of the Palmer’s behaviour. She burst into tears; kissed with fervent devotion the memorial of her lost husband; fell into a swoon; and, on her recovery, told the whole story to her attendants, and enjoined them to go in quest of the Palmer, and to bring him immediately before her. A short explanation removed her few remaining doubts; she threw herself into the arms of her husband; and the re-union of this long-separated couple was immediately followed by the coronation of Sir Isumbras, and by a long series of festivity.

The Saracen subjects of this Christian sovereign continued, with unshaken loyalty, to partake of the plenteous entertainments provided for all ranks of people on this solemn occasion: but no sooner had the pious Isumbras signified to them the necessity of their immediate conversion, than his whole “ parliament” adopted the resolution of deposiug and committing to the flames their newly-acquired sovereign, as soon as they should have obtained the concurrence of the neighbouring princes. Two of these readily joined their forces for the accomplishment of this salutary purpose, and, invading the territories of Sir Isumbras with an army of thirty thousand men, sent him, according to usual custom, a solemn defiance.

Sir Isumbras boldly answered the defiance; issued the necessary orders; called for his arms; sprang upon his horse; and prepared to march out against the enemy; when he discovered that his subjects had, to a man, abandoned him, and that he must encounter singly the whole host of the invaders.

Sir Isumbras was bold and keen,
And took his leave at the queen.
And sighed wonder sore:
He said, “ Madam, have good day!
“ Sekerly, as I you say.
“ For now and evennore!”
“ Help me, sir, that I were dight
“ In arms, as it were a knight;
“ I will with you fare:
“ Gif God would us grace send
“ That we may together end,
“ Then done were all my care.”
Soon was the lady dight
In arms, as it were a knight;
He gave her spear and shield:
Again thirty thousand Saracens, and mo,
There came no mo but they two,
When they met in field.

Never, probably, did a contest take place between such disproportioned forces. Sir Isumbras was rather encumbered than assisted by the presence of his beautiful but feeble helpmate; and the faithful couple were on the point of being crushed by the charge of the enemy, when three unknown knights suddenly made their appearance, and as suddenly turned the fortune of the day. The first of these was mounted on a lion; the second on a leopard; and the third on a unicorn. The Saracen cavalry, at the first sight of these unexpected antagonists, dispersed in all directions. But flight and resistance were equally hopeless: three-and-twenty thousand unbelievers were soon laid lifeless on the plain by the talons of the lion and leopard, by the resistless horn of the unicorn, or by the sword of their young and intrepid riders; and the small remnant of the Saracen army who escaped from the general carnage quickly spread through every corner of the Mahometan empire, the news of this signal and truly miraculous victory.

Sir Isumbras, who does not seem to have possessed the talent of unravelling mysteries, had never suspected that his three miraculous auxiliaries were his own children, whom Providence had sent to his assistance at the moment of his greatest distress; but he was not the less thankful when informed of the happy termination of all his calamities. The royal family were received in the city with every demonstration of joy by his penitent subjects, whose loyalty had been completely revived by the recent miracle. Magnificent entertainments were provided; after which Sir Isumbras, having easily over-run the territories of his two Pagan neighbours who had been slain in the last battle, proceeded to conquer a third kingdom for his younger son; and the four monarchs, uniting their efforts for the propagation of the true faith, enjoyed, “as the romance tells us” the happiness of witnessing the baptism of all the inhabitants of their respective dominions.

They lived and died in good intent;
Unto heaven their souls went
When that they dead were.
Jesu Christ, heaven’s king,
Give us, aye, his blessing,
And shield us from care!

In Ashton, Romances of chivalry, 1887

John Ashton, Romances of chivalry told and illustrated in facsimile, 1887, pp83-100.

Sir Isumbras

IS peculiarly an English Romance — at least we know of no version in a foreign tongue, and, indeed, those in English are very scarce. Three MSS. are known to exist, all of the i$th century, one at Lincoln, in the Thornton Collection; another in the library of Caius College, Cambridge; and a third is in the British Museum (Cotton, Caligula, A. ii.). These have been published — the first in extenso — but the language is very archaic, so that I have preferred taking the first printed copy I could find, and that is one printed by William Copland. Black letter, no date, but in the British Museum Catalogue it is approximately given as 1550. This edition fulfilled most of the conditions I required. Any one with a very slight knowledge of Old English could read it easily, and, although it varies in its language from the MSS., it is in complete accord with them as to the story.

The frontispiece is evidently much older than the printing, as the wood-block of the knight is both wormeaten and broken. It served its purpose, however, as it had already done duty as frontispiece for Syr Bevys of Hampton, published by the same printer.

Of all the nobles of his time, Sir Isumbras seems tohave been the most favoured. Of specially comely person, great strength, and prowess in arms, wealthy, and yet liberal of his wealth, with a beautiful wife and three lovely children — a happier existence could hardly be imagined; and so the old chronicler seems to have, thought when he wrote.

Ye shall well heare of a knight
That was in warre full wyght, [Active]
And doughtye [Brave.] of his dede.
Hys name was syr Isenbras,
Man nobler than he was,
Lyved none with breade.
He was lyvely, large and longe,
With shoulders broade, and armes stronge
That myghtie was to se.
He was a hardy man and hye,
All men hym loved that hym se,
For a gentyll knight was he.
Harpers loved him in hall,
With other minstrels all,
For he gave them golde and fee.
He was as curtoise as men might thinke,
Lyberall of meate and drynke
In the worlde was none so fre.
He hade a ladye full of beautye
And also full of charitie
As any lady might be.
Betwene them thay had chyldren thre,
Fayrer forms myght no man se
Under the cope of heaven.

This reads somewhat like the perfection of human bliss, and so it might have been, had not Sir Isumbras lacked some spiritual essentials, which, in all probability, was owing to his worldly prosperity and happiness. He was puffed up with pride, and never thought of the Giver of all things, who had so bounteously bestowed His favours upon him; and God thought it necessary, for the knight’s soul’s sake, and for the salutary lesson to be learned from the example he intended to make of him, to chasten him for his pride and bring him low.

So, after, it befell on a daye
That this knyght went him to piaye
Hys forest for to se.
As he loked up on hye
He sawe an aungell in the skye
Which toward hym dyd flye.
Isenbras, he sayde there,
Thou hast forgotten what thou were
For pryde, and golde, and fee.
Wherfore our lord sayth to thee so
All thy good[s] thou must forego
As thou shalt hereafter se.
The worldes welth shall fro the [From thee.] fall,
Thou shalt lose thy children all,
And all thy landes free.
Thy lady goodlyest of all,
For feare of fyre shall flye thy hall
This daye or thou her se.
The knyghte fell doune upon his kne
Underneth an Olyve tre
And helde up both his handes.
And then agayne thus sayde he
Lorde God in trinitie
Welcome be thy soundes.
While I am yonge, I maye well go,
When I am olde, I may not so,
Though that I fayne woulde.
Therfore Jesu I pray thee
In youth send me adversitie,
And not when I am olde.
The aungel toke from thence his flight,
And left alone that carefull knyght;
From hym he wente his waye.

Swift was the divine punishment; for no sooner was the angel gone, than his strong steed dropped down dead from under him, and his hawks and hounds suddenly expired, and in this plight nought was left for him but to take his sad way homeward on foot, whilst the tears streamed down his cheeks. On his way he was met by some of his household, who had but sad news to give him: how that all his cattle had been destroyed by adders, that worms had killed his capons, and that he had no beast left for the plough, they having died from the effects of thunder. He took their news with becoming resignation and bade them pass on. Sad-hearted, he still bent his steps homeward, when he was met by “ a lytle lad “ who told him the grievous news that all his castle, &c., was burned to the ground, and that many of his people had been killed. In fact the only lives saved were those of his wife and children who had fled for fear of the fire. When he reached the scene of the catastrophe he found it even as it had been reported unto him.

A dolefull sight than gan he se,
Hys wyfe and his chyldren thre
Out of the fyre were fled.
There they sate under a thorne
Bare and naked as they wer borne,
Brought out of theyr bed.

He took off his “surcoat of pallade” [A rich kind of cloth.] and put it on his wife, cut his scarlet mantle into three pieces in which to wrap his children, and, being fully imbued with the awful punishments with which God had thought good to afflict him, he suggested to his wife that they should at once set out on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and visit Calvary. This resolution they carried into effect at once, but in a very meek, and lowly fashion.

The lorde and the ladye bende [Bowed to circumstances.]
Toke theyr way for to wende
Upon the same daye.
Whan that they departe shoulde
For them wept both yonge and olde,
Both wyfe, wydow, man and maye. [Maid.]
They bare with them no maner of thynge
That was worth a farthynge,
Cattell, golde ne fe. [Nor property.]
But mekely they asked theyr meate
Where that they myght it gette
For saynct charytie.

In this humble manner they passed through “ seven lands “ safely, sometimes subsisting on the alms of the charitable; at others, only on berries, and the tender shoots of the thorn. At length they came to a river, through which Sir Isumbras waded, with his eldest child in his arms, and, having placed him under a bush of broom, he re-crossed the river to fetch his second born; but, whilst he was in mid stream, a lion bore away his eldest boy, and a leopard took his next child, who was with his mother.

After the first burst of grief they piously bowed to the will of the Creator, and pursued their journey through a forest, until they came to the sea shore, where they saw a fleet of “ thre hundred shyppes and mo,” belonging to the Soudan of the Saracens, who was there in person. As they had tasted neither meat nor drink for seven days, they not unnaturally agreed to pay the Soudan a visit, and ask for some provisions. But the Soudan thought they were spies, and ordered them to be beaten and sent away. Their pitiful case, however, was apparent to the bystanders, and caused much commiseration among them.

A knyght kneled before the kynge
And sayd it is a pytifull thynge
That poore penaunce to se.
He semeth a man so gentyll and fre,
Though he be in necessitie,
It is ruth [Compassion should be shown him.] and pytie.
His eyen are gray as any glasse;
Were he as well fedde as ever he was
Like a knight shoulde he be.
Hys wyfe as wyte as whalesbone,
Though she with weping be overgone,
She is as white as blosome on tre.

This intercession had weight with the Soudan, and he ordered the wayfarers to be brought before him, which was done, after they had been fed and clothed. He was struck with Sir Isumbras’s personal appearance, and offered to dub him a knight if he would go and fight for him, first of all renouncing Christianity and embracing the faith of Mahound. But this was too much for Sir Jsumbras’s othodoxy :

I shall never Hethen hounde become,
Nor warre againste Christendome,
Therfore to dye thys daye (he was willing).
Create wayes we have to gone,
Meat ne drynke have we none,
Ne penye for to paye.
Syr, helpe us to our lyves fode, [Food.]
For hys love that dyed on rode, [Rood, or cross.]
And let us walk awaye.

But this was not to be, for the Soudan was struck by the angelic beauty of the lady, and, after his Oriental manner, he wished to purchase her of her husband, offering him “an hundred pounde of fayre Florence rede and rounde, and red robes seven: “ besides which, she was to be made the Soudan’s queen. Needless to say, Sir Isumbras indignantly refused such a bargain, but the Soudan had force majeure on his side, paid the money and garments, and seized the lady. Sir Isumbras threw away the money, and, for his pains, got a terrible beating, from which, as soon as he was recovered, he took his son by the hand and went forth. Seemingly both Sir Isumbras and his wife looked upon these events as manifestations of the Divine will, and accepted them with resignation, for the Soudan immediately crowned the lady as his queen, and she made no resistance thereto, only stipulating to have a few last words with her former husband.

This was granted, and, after an affecting interview, she advised Sir Isumbras to go away, and, for the future, to exert all his energies in endeavouring to conquer and kill the Soudan, and enjoy his kingdom.

Then this ladye meke and mylde
Kyssed hym, and than her chylde,
Then sowned [Swooned.] she tymes thre.

After which she sailed for Syria, and her husband, accepting the position, took the gold and red robes, and with his little son went on his way. At night, weary and tired, they lay upon the bare earth, but with the morn came an adventure, for an eagle carried off the red robes in which were wrapped both the gold, for which he had sold his wife, and also his provisions. He followed the bird till stopped by the shores of the Grecian Sea, over which the eagle flew, and he returned sadly to his young son, who, however, in the meantime, had been carried off by an unicorn; and this last blow utterly crushed the knight.

The knyghte afore was often wo,
But never then he was so,
He set hym on a stone.
Lorde, he saye, wo is me,
For my wyfe and my chyldren thre,
Now am I left alone.
The kynge that bare of thorne the croune,
Wysshe me a waye unto the towne,
For all amysse have I gone.

Hungry, tired, and heartsore, he proceeded on his way, until he saw the light of a fire, which proceeded from a smith’s forge. He begged for bread, but the smiths were utilitarian in their ideas, and refused to give any unless he worked for it. “ They sayde, labour, for so do we.” Sir Isumbras complied, and worked for them for a twelvemonth in doing arduous and menial work, but after that time he was initiated into the art and mystery of working in iron, and he worked at this trade for seven years, becoming so proficient therein that he was enabled to make himself a suit of armour, and all that belonged to a knight’s outfit.

At the end of that time he heard that the Christians had taken the field against the Saracens, and he determined to join them; so, buckling on his armour, he got the best substitute for a charger that he could, “ a croked caple that coles broughte,” and started for the fray. Needless to say he fought like a paladin, until the poor “caple” was slain. His prowess had been so prominent, that when this event happened, an Earl gave him a good steed and a fine suit of armour instead of his home-made one. Thus accoutred, he once more mixed in the melee, dealing hard blows all round, and at last he slew the Soudan. Such a feat as this could not fail of recognition by the Christian king, and Sir Isumbras was brought before him, all wounded as he was, and questioned as to who he was.

Syr, quod he, a smythe’s man,
To defend thee in fyghte.

The king promised to make him a knight, and generally to look after his fortune, and, in the meantime, ordered him to a nunnery, where the good sisters might heal him of his wounds. Here he was greatly petted,

Because he had the Sowdan slayne,
With many a Heathen hounde.

When he got well, he would not wait for honours to be bestowed upon him, but dressed himself like a palmer, and, having taken a grateful farewell of the prioress and the nuns, he again set out on his pilgrimage. He found a ship sailing for Acre, and soon reached that city, from whence he prosecuted his pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre. Hard and toilsome was the way, and the food, too, poor and insufficient; but a blessed change was at hand, and he was about to reap the reward of his sufferings.

Faint and hungry,
Beside the borowe [Burgh, or town.] of Bethlem,
He set hym by a well streme,
Tyll the day was dymme.
As he sat and sore syght
There came an aungell about mydnight
And brought hym bread and wyne.
Isenbras, he sayde, lysten unto mee,
Our lorde hath pardon graunted to thee,
Forgeven are synnes thyne.
Nowe rest the well, syr Isenbras,
Forgeven is all thy trespas,
Shortly for to sayne. [Say.]
My Lorde is heaven[‘s] kynge
Hath the geven hys blessynge,
And byddeth the turne agayne.
The knyght on his knees hym set,
And Christ of heaven kynge he grete[d],
Of the tydynges he was fayne. [Glad.]

The angel left him, and Sir Isumbras, fortified by the food he had taken, retraced his steps. He wandered about until he heard of a fair castle, wherein dwelt a queen, who was a paragon of all that was good, and

Every day she made a dole
Of many florences, gold and hole, [I.e., not clipped, but nice and round, fresh from the mint.]
Whoso woulde it fetche.

Sir Isumbras was in that lowly condition when either money or meat would be acceptable, and at once made for that castle. He joined the ranks of the poor, and duly received his golden florin from the queen, who chose fifty of the poorest and feeblest from among them, and Sir Isumbras with them. The queen presided at the feast of these poor folk, and, from some cause unexplained, either from his superior state of emaciation, or from his palmer’s garb, denoting a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, the steward gave directions that he should sit above all the other company. Food and drink were given him, but he did not partake of them, but sat still, shedding tears. Probably this behaviour called particular attention to him, for the queen ordered a chair and a cushion to be provided for the poor palmer, that he might relate to her the adventures he had met with in the many lands through which he had travelled. He gratified her curiosity with many traveller’s tales, but no temptation in the form of rich meats, &c., could induce him to eat. The queen bade him dread nothing, but —

For his soule that was my Lorde
I will the finde at bed and borde,
Fayre to cloth and feede.
At thyne ease thou shalt be,
With much mirth game and gle,
Both early and late.
A clene chamber and a fayre,
And a man to serve thee
Within the castle gate —

a position which was gratefully accepted by Sir Isumbras who fell on his knees and thanked the queen; but this promotion naturally brought with it envy from those less fortunate. At length there was a tournament, and he was horsed “ on a fayre stede.” His generous diet had brought back his old strength, and he played havoc with the Saracens; none could stand before him.

Some he caste over the lake,
Of some both necke and backe he brake,
They fled from hym for drede.
The ladye seying that, fast lough, [Laughed loudly.]
And sayde my palmer is strong ynough,
And worthy for to ryde.

And now a curious adventure befel Sir Isumbras, bordering somewhat on the marvellous: for, as he was walking one day, he espied a heron’s nest, wherefrom fluttered a red cloth. Being somewhat amazed at this singular sight he climbed the tree, and in the nest he found his own red robe, of which the eagle had robbed him, still containing the gold which had been given him as the price of his wife, the sight of which well-nigh sent him mad.

When he se the reade golde
Wherfore hys ladye was solde,
Then was he woode [Mad.] of mynde.
The golde into the chambre he bare,
Under his heade he putte it there,
Then wepynge he went his waye.
Ever when he the golde gan se,
Hys songe was well a waye.
Were he never of chere so good
Whan he in hys chamber yode [Went.]
After he wepte all the daye.

This lachrymose behaviour naturally attracted attention, and was reported to the queen; and, by way of solving the mystery, four knights broke open the door of Sir Isumbras’ chamber, and found the red robes and the gold, which they took to the queen, who, at the sight of these tokens, especially of the gold for which she had been sold into splendid slavery, swooned thrice. When she came to herself —

Often she syghed, and sayde alas,
This ought a knyght Syr Isenbras
That my lorde was wont to be.
Unto the knyghts there she tolde
How that she for golde was solde,
Her lorde was beaten there.
Where ye maye the palmer se
Byd hym come and speke with me:
Therto me longeth sore.
The palmer came into the hall,
Unto counsell she dyd him call,
And asked hym right there.
How that he the golde wan,
And whether he were a gentleman,
And in what countre he was borne.
With carfull harte, [Heart full of care.] and rewfull [Rueful.] dreare
He gave the quene this aunswere
On knees her before.
The first tale that he her tolde
Madame therfore my wife was solde
I do you to understande.
Thre chyldren have I lore, [Lost.]
My mantel was awaye bore,
I in a nest it founde.
Tho [Then.] had the lady great solace,
She fell in sowning, so faynt she was
When they together met.
There was myrthe to se them mete
With clypping [Embracing.] and kissing swete
In armes for to folde.
Eyther of other was so fayne
They wolde it no longer layne; [They would no longer delay their reunion.]
To the knyghtes they it tolde.
A ryche brydale dyd they byd,
Both riche and poore thyther yede, [Went.]
Would none themselfe with holde.
Syr Isenbras was rayed [Arrayed, apparelled.] ryght,
And crowned kyng, that erre [ Erst, before.] was knyght,
With a gaye garlande of golde.

The chronicle does not treat of the happiness of the reunited pair, but it can well be imagined. It was hardly to be expected that his most Christian Majesty King Isumbras would live in friendly accord with the dogs of Mahound, his heathen neighbours; nor, indeed, does he seem to have gained the affection of his own subjects, for when his neighbours rose against him, all his people, without exception, forsook him, and left him perfectly alone to fight the Saracen hosts.

Sir Isumbras does not seem to have quailed, although he felt he must be going to certain destruction. His parting from his queen is well told.

Syr Isenbras curtoyse and kene [Earnest, bold.]
Toke hys leave of his quene,
And after syghed full sore.
He loked on her with eyen graye
And sayd, Madame, have good daye
For now and evermore.
The ladye sayd unto the knight,
I woulde I were in armure bright
With you that I myght fare.
If God woulde the grace sende,
That we myght together wende,
Then gone were all my care.
Sone was the lady dyghte [Clad.]
In armure as she were a knyghte,
With horse, with speare, and shelde.
Agaynst thyrty thousand Sarasins, and mo
Of christen came but they two
Alone into the feylde.

Strong indeed must have been the faith that impellec the pair to encounter the Saracenic horde. The heather raged furiously around them, but the knight was calm, anc swore by “ swete Jesu “ that he would not give in whilsi he “ may in styrope stande,” and his lady, following hi< example, swore by “ Mary mylde “ that “ she woulde do hei myghte.” The battle began, and they twain did prodigies of valour, overcoming all who came against them, until the Soudan of the Saracens “ was out of his wyt,” and promised rewards and lands to any one who would lay Sir Isumbras low.

It was not to be done single-handed, and it was therefore proposed that a combined rush should be made on Sir Isumbras, and thus overwhelm him with sheer force of numbers. This was done, and the knight and his lady were in such sore straits, that but a short time could only elapse before they certainly must be slain, when a miracle came to their aid.

Ryght as they slayne shoulde have be, [Been.]
There came ryding kynges thre
On beastes that were wylde.
One on a Leoparde, and one on a Unicorne,
And one a Lion, one ranne beforne, [Before.]
Theyr eldest sonne to beare.
The knyghtes fought as they were wode, [Mad.]
And slewe all that before them stode;
Great wonder it was to se.
The Heathen knyghtes slew the [They.] there,
The Sarasyns that counted were
Thurtye thousand and thre. 3 It is needless to say that these three champions who arrived so opportunely were the three lost children of Sir Isumbras and his wife. The chronicle does not attempt to account for their sudden appearance other than “ The grace of God us hether sent.” Sir Isumbras’ faithless subjects seem to have returned to their allegiance, and everything went very happily. The three sons each conquered him a “ land,” and christianized the people, and the Romance concludes.

Than was Kynge Syr Isenbras
Of more welth than ever he was,
And come out of his care.
To every sonne he gave a lande,
And crouned hym kynge with his hande,
Whyle they together were.
The eldest sonne was in Surrye [Syria.]
Chosen chyefe of chyvalre,
As kynge and governoure.
The seconde sonne, shortly to say,
In an He called laffaye
Reygned with great honour.
The youngest brother was crowned kynge
Of Calabre without leasynge: [Lying.]
Thus reygned they all thre.
And when it pleased God of hys myght,
They all departed in heavens lyght,
To the whiche brynge us the trinitie,
Amen, Amen, for charitie.