Averios was a wise emperour regnyng in the cite of Rome; and he let crye
a grete feste, and who so ever wold come to that feste, and gete victory
in the tournement, he shuld have his doughter to wyf, after his decesse.
So there was a doughti knyght, and hardy in armys, and specially in
tournement, the which hadde a wyf, and two yong children, of age of thre
yere; and when this knyght had herd this crye, in a clere
morowenyng[523] he entred in to a forest, and there he herd a
nyghtingale syng upon a tre so swetly, that he herd never so swete a
melody afore that tyme. The knyght sette him doun undre the tre, and
seid to him self, “Now, Lord, if I myght knowe what this brid[524] shold
bemene!”[525] There come an old man, and seid to him, “That thou shalt
go within thes thre daies to the emperours feste, and thou shalt suffre
grete persecution or thou come there; and if thou be constant, and
pacient in all thi tribulacion, thy sorowe shal turne the[526] to grete
joy; and, ser, this is the interpretacion of his song.” When this was
seid, the old man vanysshed, and the brid fly away. Tho[527] the knyght
had grete merveill; he yede[528] to his wif, and told her the cas.[529]
“Ser,” quod she, “the will of God be fulfilled, but I counsell that we
go to the feste of the emperour, and that ye thynk on the victory in the
tournement, by the which we may be avaunced[530] and holpen.”[531] When
the knyght had made all thing redy, there come a grete fire in the
nyght; and brent[532] up all his hous, and all his goodis, for which he
had grete sorowe in hert; nevertheles, notwithstondyng all this, he yede
forthe toward the see, with his wife, and with his two childryn; and
there he hired a ship, to passe over. When thei come to londe, the
maister of the shippe asked of the knyght his hire for his passage, for
him, and for his wif, and for his two childryn. “Dere frend,” said the
knyght to him, “dere frend, suffre me, and thou shalt have all thyn, for
I go now to the feste of the emperour, where I trust to have the victory
in turnement, and then thou shalt be wele ypaied.” “Nay, by the feith
that I owe to the emperour,” quod that other, “hit shal not be so, for
but if[533] you pay now, I shal holde thi wif to wed,[534] tyll tyme
that I be paied fully my salary.” And he seid that, for he desired the
love of the lady. Tho the knyght profren his two childryn to wed, so
that he myght have his wif; and the shipman seid, “Nay, such wordis
beth[535] vayn, for,” quod he, “or[536] I wol have my mede, or els I
wolle holde thi wif.” So the knyght lefte his wif with him, and kyst her
with bitter teris; and toke the two childryn, scil. oon on his arme and
that othir in his nek, and so he yede forth to the turnement. Aftir, the
maister of the shippe wolde have layn by the lady, but she denyed hit,
and seid, that she had lever dey[537] than consente therto. So within
short tyme, the maister drew to a fer[538] lond, and there he deied; and
the lady beggid her brede fro dore to dore, and knew not in what lond
her husbond was duellinge. The knyght was gon toward the paleis, and at
the last he come by a depe water, that was impossible to be passid,
but[539] hit were in certein tyme, when hit was at the lowist. The
knygnt sette doun oo[540] child, and bare the othir over the water; and
aftir that he come ayen[541] to fecche over the othir, but or[542] he
myght come to him, there come a lion, and bare him awey to the forest.
The knyght pursued aftir, but he myght not come to the lion; and then he
wept bitterly, and yede ayen over the water to the othir child; and or
he were ycome, a bere had take the child, and ran therwith to the
forest. When the knyght saw that, sore he wepte, and seid, “Allas! that
ever I was bore, for now have I lost wif and childryn. O thou brid! thi
song that was so swete is yturned in to grete sorowe, and hath ytake
away myrth fro my hert.” Aftir this he turned toward the feste, and made
him redy toward the turnement; and there he bare him so manly, and so
doutely in the turnement, and that twies or thries, that he wan the
victory, and worship, and wynnyng of that day. For the emperour hily
avauncid him, and made him maister of his oste,[543] and commaundid that
all shuld obey to him; and he encresid, and aros from day to day in
honure and richesse. And he went aftirward in a certain day in the cite,
[and] he found a precious stone, colourid with thre maner of colours, as
in oo partie[544] white, in an othir partie red, and in the thrid partie
blak. Anon he went to a lapidary, that was expert in the vertue of
stonys; and he seid, that the vertue of thilke[545] stone was this, who
so ever berith the stone upon him, his hevynesse[546] shall turne in to
joy; and if he be povere,[547] he shal be made riche; and if he hath
lost anything, he shall fynde hit ayen with grete joy. And when the
knyght herd this, he was glad and blith, and thought in him self, “I am
in grete hevynesse and poverte, for I have lost all that I had, and by
this stone I shal recovere all ayen, whether hit be so or no, God wote!”
Aftir, when he must go to bataile of the emperour he gadrid
to-gidre[548] all the oste, and among them he found two yong knyghtis,
semely in harneis,[549] and wele i-shape, the which he hired for to go
with him yn bataill of the emperour. And when thei were in the bataill,
there was not oon in all the bataill that did so doutely,[550] as did
tho[551] two knyghtis that he hired; and therof this knyght, maister of
the ost, was hily gladid. When the bataill was y-do,[552] thes two yong
knyghtes yede to her oste[553] in the cite; and as they sat to-gidir,
the elder seid to the yonger, “Dere frend, hit is long sithen[554] that
we were felawys,[555] and we have grete grace of God, for in every
batail we have the victory; and therfore I pray you, telle me of what
contre ye were ybore, and in what nacion? For I askid never this of the
or now; and if thou wilt telle me soth,[556] I shall telle my kynrede
and where I was borne.” And when oo felawe spak thus to the othir, a
faire lady was loggid[557] in the same ostry;[558] and when she herd the
elder knyght speke, she herkened to him; but she knew neither of
hem,[559] and yit she was modir of both, and wyf of the maister of the
oste,[560] the which also the maister of the shippe withheld for
ship-hire, but ever God kept her fro synne. Then spake the yonger
knyght, “Forsooth, good man, I note[561] who was my fader, or who was my
modir, ne[562] in what stede[563] I was borne; but I have this wele in
mynde, that my fader was a knyght, and that he bare me over the water,
and left my eldir brothir in the lond; and as he passid over ayen to
fecche him, there come a lion, and toke me up, but a man of the cite
come with houndis, and when he saw him, he made him to leve me with his
houndis.”[564] “Now sothly,” quod that othir, “and in the same maner hit
happid with me. For I was the sone of a knyght, and had only a brothir;
and my fader brought me, and my brothir, and my modir, over the see
toward the emperour; and for my fader had not to pay to the maister of
the ship for the fraught, he left my modir to wed; and then my fader
toke me with my yong brothir, and brought us on his bak, and in his
armys, tyll that we come unto a water, and there left me in a side of
the water, and bare over my yong brothir; and or my fader myght come to
me ayene, to bare me over, ther come a bere, and bore me to wode;[565]
and the people that saw him, made grete cry, and for fere the bere let
me falle, and so with thelke[566] poeple I duellid x. yere, and ther I
was y-norisshed.” When the modir herd thes wordis, she seid, “Withoute
doute thes ben my sonys;” and ran to hem anon, and fil upon her[567]
nekkes, and wepte sore for joy, and seid, “A! dere sonys, I am your
modir, that your fader left with the maister of the shippe; and I know
wele by your wordis and signes that ye beth true brethern. But how it is
with your fader, that I know not, but God, that all seth,[568] yeve[569]
me grace to fynd my husbond.” And alle that nyght thes thre were in
gladnes. On the morow the modir rose up, and the childryn, scil. the
knyghtis, folowid; and as thei yede, the maister of the oste mette with
hem in the strete, and though he were her fader, he knew hem not,
but[570] as thei had manli fought the day afore; and therfor he salued
hem honurably, and askid of hem what feir lady that was, that come with
hem? Anon as his lady herd his voys, and perceyved a certeyn signe in
his frount,[571] she knew fully therby that it was her husbond; and
therfore she ran to him, and clypt him, and kyst him, and for joy fille
doun to the erth, as she had be ded. So aftir this passion, she was
reised up; and then the maister seid to her, “Telle me, feir woman, whi
thou clippest me, and kyssist me so?” She seid, “I am thi wif, that thou
leftist with the maister of the ship; and thes two knyghtis bene your
sonys. Loke wele on my front, and see.” Then the knyght byheld her wele,
with a good avisement,[572] and knew wele by diverse tokyns that she was
his wif; and anon kyst her, and the sonys eke; and blessid hiely God,
that so had visited hem. Tho went he ayen to his lond, with his wif, and
with his children, and endid faire his lif.
* * * * *
From the legend of St. Eustache the romances of Sir Isumbras, Octavian,
Sir Eglamour of Artois, and Sir Torrent of Portugal are derived. In the
last, while the hero is absent, aiding the king of Norway with his
sword, his wife Desonelle is delivered of twins, and her father, King
Calamond, out of his hatred of her, causes her and the babes to be put
to sea in a boat; but a favourable wind saves them from destruction, and
drives the boat upon the coast of Palestine. As she is wandering
aimlessly along the shore, a huge griffin appears, and seizes one of her
children, and immediately after a leopard drags away the other. With
submission she suffers her miserable fate, relying on the help of the
Holy Virgin. The king of Jerusalem, just returning from a voyage,
happened to find the leopard with the child, which he ordered to be
saved and delivered to him. Seeing from the foundling’s golden ring that
the child was of noble descent, and pitying its helpless state, he took
it into his palace, and brought him up as if he were his own son, at his
court. The dragon with the other child was seen by a pious hermit, St.
Antony, who, though son of the king of Greece, had in his youth forsaken
the world. Through his prayer St. Mary made the dragon put down the
infant. Antony carried him to his father, who adopted him and ordered
him to be baptized. Desonelle wandered up and down, after the loss of
her children, till she happened to meet the king of Nazareth hunting.
He, recognising her as the king of Portugal’s daughter, gave her a kind
welcome and assistance, and at his court she lived several years in
happy retirement. Ultimately she is re-united to her husband and her two
sons, when they have become famous knights.
* * * * *
The following is an epitome of “Sir Isumbras,” from Ellis’s “Specimens
of Early English Metrical Romances” (Bohn’s ed. p. 479 ff.):