This Frenshe come to Flaundres so liht so the hare;
Er hit were mydnyht hit fel hem to care;
Hue were laht by the net so bryd is in snare,
With rouncin ant with stede.
The Flemmisshe hem dabbeth o the het bare;85
Hue nolden take for huem raunsoun ne ware;
Hue doddeth of huere hevedes, fare so hit fare,
Ant thareto haveth hue nede.
Thenne seyth the Eorl of Artois, "Y yelde me to the,
Peter Conyng, by thi nome, yef thou art hende ant fre,90
That y ne have no shame ne no vylté,
That y ne be noud ded."
Thenne swor a bocher, "By my leauté,
Shalt thou ner more the kyng of Fraunce se,
Ne in the toun of Bruges in prisone be;95
Thou woldest spene bred."
Ther hy were knulled y the putfalle,
This eorles ant barouns ant huere knyhtes alle;
Huere ledies huem mowe abide in boure ant in halle
Wel longe.100
For hem mot huere kyng other knyhtes calle,
Other stedes taken out of huere stalle:
Ther hi habbeth dronke bittrere then the galle,
Upon the drue londe.
When the Kyng of Fraunce yherde this tydynge,105
He smot doun is heved, is honden gon he wrynge:
Thourhout al Fraunce the word bygon to sprynge,
Wo wes huem tho!
Muche wes the sorewe ant the wepinge
That wes in al Fraunce among olde ant yynge;110
The mest part of the lond bygon for te synge
"Alas ant weylawo!"
Awey, thou yunge pope! whet shal the to rede?
Thou hast lore thin cardinals at thi meste nede;114
Ne keverest thou hem nevere for nones kunnes mede,
For sothe y the telle.
Do the forth to Rome, to amende thi misdede;
Bide gode halewen, hue lete the betere spede;
Bote thou worche wysloker, thou losest lont ant lede,
The coroune wel the felle.120
Alas, thou seli Fraunce! for the may thunche shome,
That ane fewe fullaris maketh ou so tome;
Sixti thousent on a day hue maden fot-lome,
With eorl ant knyht.
Herof habbeth the Flemysshe suithe god game,125
Ant suereth by Seint Omer ant eke bi Seint Jame,
Yef hy ther more cometh, hit falleth huem to shame,
With huem for te fyht.
I telle ou for sothe, the bataille thus bigon
Bituene Fraunce ant Flaundres, hou hue weren fon;130
Vor Vrenshe the Eorl of Flaundres in prison heden ydon,
With tresoun untrewe.
Ye[f] the Prince of Walis his lyf habbé mote,
Hit falleth the Kyng of Fraunce bittrore then the sote;
Bote he the rathere therof welle do bote,135
Wel sore hit shal hym rewe.
[15]. anonen. R. an oven. W.