For why I wyll the saye
Moche folke of that countre
Cometh heder for socoure to me
Bothe by nyghte and by daye
There is a gyaunte of grete reno wne
He destroyeth bothe cyte and towne
And all that he may
As bokes of rome tell
He was goten with the deuyll of hell
As his moder slepynge lay
The kynge sayde by saynt Adryan
I rede a nother gentylman
Be there and haue the degre
I haue a doughter that me is dere
Thou shalte wedde her to thy fere
And yf it thy wyll be
Two duchyes in honde
I wyll gyue her in londe
Cramercy syr sayd he
With my tonge I haue so wrought
To breke my day wyll I nought
Nedes me behoueth there to be
On goddes name the kynge gan sayne
Ihesu brynge the saffe a gayne
Lorde moche of myght
Mynstralsy was them a monge
With harpe fedyll and songe
Delycyous notes on hyghe
Whan it was tyme to bed they wente
And on the morowe rose Torente.
And toke leue of kynge and knyght
And toke a redy way
[Page] And the good squyres after h [...]
That knyghtes sholde be
As they were a myddes theyr [...]
The kynge wolde not forgete
To torente than sayd he
He sayd so god me saue
Fayne thou woldest my doug [...] [...]
Thou hast loued her many a d [...]
ye by my trouthe sayd torente
And I were a ryche man
Ryght gladly by my faye
If thou durst for her sake
Apoynte of armes vndertake
Thou broke her vp foray
ye sayde he or I go
Sykernes thou make me so
Of thy doughter hende
Ye and after all my ryghtes
By .vii: score of hardy knyghtes
Al they were Torentes frende
Now good lordes I you praye
Bere wytnes of this day
Agayne yf god me sende
Torente sayd so may I the
Wyst I where my Iorney shol [...] [...]
Thyder I wolde me dyghte
The kynge gaue hym an answ [...]
In the londe of calebre
There wonneth a gyaunte wyg [...]
Slogus he hyght as I the tolde
God sende the that waye ryghte
⟨I do not find this Romance of Torente mention'd anywhere [...]⟩
[...] [...]all the wrynge
[...] [...]lynge
[...] thou the
[...] he toke
[...] bare a croke
[...] [...]te longe and thre
[...] euer so longe were
[...] had no fere
[...] [...]d darste thou come nere
[...] [...]nte no lengre a byde
[...] [...]nte wolde he ryde
[...] [...]ghte
[...] [...]one eye but one
[...] neuer none
[...] nor by nyght
[...] [...]pe of god of heuen
[...] [...]etin euen
[...] [...]gan to rore
[...] the cyte w [...]re
[...] [...]ay
[...] [...]s [...]yen were oute
[...]
[Page] By the se syde as it lay
God sende hym gatys ryght
An hye waye hath he nome
Into calabre is he come
Within two dayes or thre
So he met folke hym agayne
Fast comynge with carte and wayne
Frowarde the se
Dere god sayd torente now
Good folke what eyleth you
That ye thus fast fle
There lyeth a gyaunte here besyde
In all this londe brode and wyde
No man on lyue leueth he
Dere god sayd torente then
Wher euer be that fendes den
They answered hym anone
In a castell in the see
Slogus they sayd hyght he
Many a man he hath slone
We wote full well where he doth ly
Byfore the cyte of hungry
THus the lady dwelled there
Tyll that she delyuered were
Of men chyldren two
Of all poyntes were they gent
Lyke were they to sir torent
For his loue suffred they wo
The kynge sayd so mote I the
Thou shalt into these
Without wordes mo
Euery kynges doughter fet and nere
At the they shall lere
Agaynst right to do
Great ruthe it was tose
Whan they led that lady fre
Out of hir faders lande
The quene his moder was nēre wode
For hir doughter that gentyll fode
Knyghtes stode wepynge
A clothe of sylke toke they tho
And departed it byt wene the chyldren two
Therin they were wonde
Whan they had shypped that gentyll thynge
Anone the sell in swownynge
At peron on the sonde
Whan that lady was downe fall
Ou tesu cryste dyd she call
To defende hir with his honde
Rightfull god ye mesende
Some good londe on to lende
That my chyldren may crystened be
[Page] She sayd ladyes sayre and gent
Great well my lorde sir torent
yf euer ye hym se
The wynde arose on the nyght
Fro the londe it blewe that lady bryght
Into these so grene
wyndes and weders hathe hir dryuen
That in a forest she is aryuen
where wylde bestys were
These was ebbe and went hem fro
And left hir and hir chyldren two
[...]ne without any fere
Hir one chylde began to wepe
The lady awoke out of hir slepe
And sayde be styll my dere
Ihesu cryste hathe sent vs lande
yf there be any crysten man at hande
we shall haue socoure here
The carefull lady then was blythe
To the londe she went full swythe
As fast as she myght
Tyll the day began to spryge
Foules on trees merely gansynge
Delicyous notes on hyght
To a hyll went that lady fre
where she was ware of acyte
with toures fayre and bryght
Therof Iwys she was fayne
She set hir downe as I herd sayne
Hir chyldren for to dyght
and ye fynde hawes of great value
Brynge me one with the
Torent sayd so god me saue
yf it betyde that I any haue
at your wyll shall they be
To his squyer bade he thare
after his armoure to fare
In the felde abode he
they armed hym in his wede
He bestrode a noble stede
Torent toke the way agayne
Vnto the forest of Maudelayne
In a wylsome way
Berys and apes there founde he
and wylde bestys great plente
and lyons where they lay
In a wode that is tyght
It drewe towarde the nyght
By dymmynge of the day
Lysten lordes of them came wo
He and his squyer departed in two
Carefull men then were they
at a shedynge of a rome
Eyther departed other frome
as I vnderstande
Torent taketh a dolefull way
Downe into a depe valay
[...] [...]e for to fle
[...] [...]y wyll he gone
[...]e kynge of nazareth sent hym me
Torent I wotsaue hym on the
For better loue I none
afterwarde vpon a tyde
as they walked by the ryuers syde
the kynge and yonge Torent
this lorde wolde fayne that he dede were
and he wyst nat on what manere
Howe he myght hym shent
A fals letter made the kynge
and made a messangere it brynge
On the ryuer syde as they went
To torent that was true as stele
If he loued dyssonell wele
Gete hir a faucon gent
Torent the letter began to rede
the kynge came nece and lystened
as thoughe he it neuer had sene
the kynge sayde what may this be
Lorde it is sent to me
For a faucon shene
Ine wote so god me spede
In what londe that they brede
the kynge sayde as I herde sayne
In the forest of Maudelayne
[...] [...]rlde all wrapped in wretchydnes
[...] [...]y pompes so gay & gloryous
[...] [...]easures and all thy ryches
[...] [...]y be but transytoryous
[...] [...]to moche pyteous
[...] [...]e that eche man whylom dred
[...] [...]y naturall lyne and cours
[...] [...]s alas lyeth dede
[...] ryall a kynge
[...] [...]aner the prudent salamon
[...] [...]sse and in euery thynge
[...] [...]o crysten regyon
[...] not longe agone
[...] his name by fame sprde
[...] [...]te nowe destytute alone
[...] [...]las alas lyeth dede
[...] [...]ater we wretchyd creatures
[...] [...]es and tryumphaunt maiestye
[...] pastymes and pleasures
[...] [...]thouten remedye
[...] wyll the myserable bodye
[...] [...]n heuy lede
[...] [...]de but vanyte and all vanytye
[...] [...]h alas alas lyeth dede
[...] [...]is subgecies & make lamentacyon.
[...] [...]o noble a gouernoure
[...] [...]ayers make we exclamacyon
[...] [...]e to his supernall toure
[...] [...]dly rose floure
[...] [...]ally all aboute spred
[...] [...]ated where is his power
[...] [...]las alas lyeth dede
Of this moost crysten kynge in vs it lyeth not
His tyme passed honour suffycyent to prayse
But yet though that / that thyng envalue we may not
Our prayers of suertye he shall haue alwayes
And though that atropose hathe ended his dayes
His name and fame shall euer be dred
As fer as phebus spredes his golden rayes
Though henry the seuenth alas alas lyeth dede
But nowe what remedye he is vncouerable
Touchyd by the handes of god that is moost Iust
But yet agayne a cause moost confortable
We haue / wherin / of ryght reioys we must
His sone on lyue in beaute force and lust
In honour lykely traianus to shede
Wherfore in hym put we our hope and trust
Syth henry his fader alas alas lyeth dede.
And nowe for conclusyon aboute his herse
Let this be grauyd for endeles memorye
With sorowfull tunes of Thesyphenes verse
Here lyeth the puyssaunt and myghty henry
Hector in batayll / Vlyxes in polecy
Salamon in wysdome the noble rose rede
Creses in rychesse Iulyus in glory
Henry the seuenth ingraued here lyeth dede
⟨In? The Author of this Elegy? Perh. Skelton, [...] not in his works.⟩
⟨This ½ sheet, Fol. on one dise & 4to on the other, must have been a Proof at the [...]⟩
⟨Dr. Farmer has wrongly conjectured about Tiraute the white. This is a fragment of the romance of "Torrente of Portugal".⟩
⟨The Doctor is probably right in what he says concerning the elegy on Henry the seventh, which is a singular curiosity.⟩