Maistur in magesté, Maker of alle,
Endles and on, euer to last!
Now, God, of þi grace, graunt me þi helpe,
And wysshe me with wyt þis werke for to ende
Off aunters ben olde of aunsetris nobill, 5
And slydyn vppon shlepe by slomeryng of age;
Of stithe men in stoure, strongest in armes,
And wisest in wer, to wale in hor tyme,
Þat ben drepit with deth, and þere day paste,
And most out of mynd for þere mecull age. 10
Sothe stories ben stoken vp, and straught out of mynde,
And swolowet into swym by swiftenes of yeres,
For new þat ben now next at our hond,
Breuyt into bokes for boldyng of hertes,
On lusti to loke with lightnes of wille, 15
Cheuyt throughe chaunce and chaungyng of peopull;
Sum tru for to traist, triet in þe ende,
Sum feynit o fere and ay false vnder.
Yche wegh as he will warys his tyme,
And has lykyng to lerne þat hym list after. 20
But olde stories of stithe þat astate helde
May be solas to sum þat it segh neuer,
Be writyng of wees þat wist it in dede,
With sight for to serche of hom þat suet after,
To ken all the crafte how þe case felle 25
By lokyng of letturs þat lefte were of olde.
Now of Troy for to telle is myn entent euyn,
Of the stoure and þe stryffe when it distroyet was.
Þof fele yeres ben faren syn þe fight endid,
And it meuyt out of mynd, myn hit I thinke, 30
Alss wise men haue writen the wordes before,
Left it in Latyn for lernyng of us.
But sum poyetis full prist þat put hom þerto
With fablis and falshed fayned þere speche,
And made more of þat mater þan hom maister were. 35
Sum lokyt ouer litle, and lympit of the sothe.
Amonges þat menye, to myn hym be nome,
Homer was holden haithill of dedis
Qwiles his dayes enduret, derrist of other,
Þat with the Grekys was gret, and of Grice comyn. 40
He feynet myche fals was neuer before wroght,
And turnet þe truth, trust ye non other.
Of his trifuls to telle I haue no tome nowe,
Ne of his feynit fare þat he fore with:
How goddes foght in the filde, folke as þai were! 45
And other errours vnable, þat after were knowen,
That poyetis of prise have preuyt vntrew:
Ouyde and othir þat onest were ay,
Virgille þe virtuus, verrit for nobill,
Thes dampnet his dedys, and for dull holdyn. 50
But þe truth for to telle, and þe text euyn,
Of þat fight, how it felle in a few yeres,
Þat was clanly compilet with a clerk wise,
On Gydo, a gome þat graidly hade soght,
And wist all þe werks by weghes he hade, 55
That bothe were in batell while the batell last,
And euþer sawte and assembly see with þere een.
Thai wrote all þe werkes wroght at þat tyme
In letturs of þere langage, as þai lernede hade:
Dares and Dytes were duly þere namys. 60
Dites full dere was dew to the Grekys,
A lede of þat lond, and logede hom with.
The tother was a tulke out of Troy selfe,
Dares, þat duly the dedys behelde.
Aither breuyt in a boke on þere best wise, 65
That sithen at a sité somyn were founden,
After, at Atthenes, as aunter befell.
The whiche bokes barely, bothe as þai were,
A Romayn ouerraght, and right hom hymseluyn,
That Cornelius was cald to his kynde name. 70
He translated it into Latyn for likyng to here,
But he shope it so short þat no shalke might
Haue knowlage by course how þe case felle;
For he brought it so breff, and so bare leuyt,
Þat no lede might have likyng to loke þerappon; 75
Till þis Gydo it gate, as hym grace felle,
And declaret it more clere, and on clene wise.
In this shall faithfully be founden, to the fer ende,
All þe dedis bydene as þai done were:
How þe groundes first grew, and þe grete hate, 80
Bothe of torfer and tene þat hom tide aftur.
And here fynde shall ye faire of þe felle peopull:
What kynges þere come of costes aboute;
Of dukes full doughty, and of derffe erles,
That assemblid to þe citie þat sawte to defend; 85
Of þe Grekys þat were gedret how gret was þe nowmber,
How mony knightes þere come, and kynges enarmede,
And what dukes thedur droghe for dedis of were;
What shippes þere were shene, and shalkes within,
Bothe of barges and buernes þat broght were fro Grese; 90
And all the batels on bent þe buernes betwene;
What duke þat was dede throughe dyntes of hond,
Who fallen was in fylde, and how it fore after.
Bothe of truse and trayne þe truthe shalt þu here,
And all the ferlies þat fell, vnto the ferre ende. 95
Fro this prologe I passe, and part me þerwith.
Frayne will I fer, and fraist of þere werkes,
Meue to my mater, and make here an ende.