“Far well,” he ſais, “my gladnes, & my delyt,
Apone knychthed far well myne appetit,
Fare well of manhed al the gret curage,
[2724] Yow flour of armys and of vaſſolage,
Gif yow be loſt!”—thus til his tent hyme brocht
The surgeons are sought,
With wofull hart, and al the ſurryȝenis ſocht,
Wich for to cum was reddy at his neid;
[2728] Thai fond the lord was of his lyf in dreid,
For wondit was he, and ek wondit ſo,