The monarch then, "Ah! wherefore doubt my friends;

Why yet dispute where love and life depends?
That faith must sure have most prevailing charms,
That gives Constantia to my circling arms:
No obstacles shall bar, no doubts deter;
Nor will I think that she was form'd to err."
The voice determin'd, and imperial eye,
Leave no pretence for courtiers to reply:
With the fond speed of love's impatience warm'd,
Now embassies are sent, and treaties form'd.
All zealous to promote the cause divine,
The pope, the church, and Christian powers com-
The royal long-reluctant parents yield, [bine;
And contracts are by mutual proxy seal'd.

High was the trust the regal writings bore,
And solemn th' attesting parties swore,
That the young Syrian, and his barons bold,
Each sex and state, the infant and the old,
Should all Messiah's hallow'd faith embrace,
And bright Constantia be the bond of grace.

We list not here of pompous phrase to say,
What order'd equipage prepares the day; [train,
Grooms, prelates, peers, and nymphs, a shining
To wait the beauteous victim o'er the main:
All Rome attend in wish the lovely maid;
And Heav'n their universal vows invade.

Wedden his child under our lawe swete,
That us was yeven by Mahound our prophete.
And he answered: "Rather than I lese
Custance, I wol be cristened douteles:
I mote ben hires, I may non other chese,
I pray you hold your arguments in pees,
Saveth my lif, and beth not reccheles
To geten hire that hath my lif in cure,
For in this wo I may not long endure."
What nedeth greter dilatation?

I say, by tretise and ambassatrie,
And by the popes mediation,

And all the chirche, and all the chevalrie,
That in destruction of Maumetrie,
And in encrese of Cristes lawe dere,
They ben accorded so as ye may here;
How that the Soudan and his baronage,
And all his liege shuld ycristened be,
And he shal han Custance in mariage,
And certain gold, I n'ot what quantitee,
And hereto finden suffisant sureteé.
The same accord is sworne on eyther side;
Now, fair Custance, Almighty God thee gide.

Now wolden som men waiten, as I gesse,
That I shuld tellen all the purveiance,
The which that the emperour of his noblesse
Hath shapen for his doughter dame Custance.
Wel may men know that so gret ordinance
May no man tellen in a litel clause,
As was arraied for so high a cause.
Bishopes ben shapen with hire for to wende,
Lordes, ladies, and knightes of renoun,
And other folk ynow, this is the end.
And notified is thurghout al the toun,
That every wight with great devotioun
Should prayen Crist, that he this mariage
Receive in gree, and spede this viage.

At length the day, the woful day arrives,
And ev'ry face of wonted cheer deprives ;
The fatal hour admits no fond delay,
That shall the joy from ev'ry heart convey.
Ye men of Rome! your parting glory mourn;
Far from your sight your darling shall be torn;
No more the morn with usual smiles arise,
Or with Constantia bless your longing eyes,
Of ev'ry tongue, of ev'ry pen the theme,
The daily subject, and the nightly dream!

But, O Constantia! say, thou fair distress'd,
What woes that hour thy lovely soul possess'd?
Its native cheek the bright carnation fled,
And charg'd with grief, reclin'd thy beauteous head;
To lands unknown those limbs must now repair,
Nurs'd in the down of fond paternal care.
Peace spread thy nightly couch to sweet repose,
Delight around thy smiling form arose ;
Each scene familiar to thy eye appear'd,
And custom long thy native soil endear'd;
Eas'd by thy bounty, at thy sight exil'd,
Grief was no more, or in thy presence smil'd;
Each rising wish thy glad attendants seiz'd;
To give thee pleasure, ev'ry heart was pleas'd:
But now to strange, to foreign climes convey'd,
Strange objects must thy loathing sense invade,
Strange features to thy weeping eyes appear,
Strange accents pierce thy undelighted ear;
In distant unacquainted bondage tied,
The gilded slave of insolence and pride,
Perhaps of form uncouth, and temper base,
Thy lord shall clasp thee with abhorr'd embrace.
Thus sad the fair revolv'd; soft sorrows flow,
And all her sighing soul was loos'd to woe:
"Father!" she cried, "your fond, your wretched
child!-

And you, my mother! you, my mother mild !— My parents dear, beneath whose kindly view, Bless'd by whose looks, your cherish'd infant grew;

When far, O far from your embraces torn,
Will you then think a wretch like me was born?
Shall then your child some sad remembrance claim?
And some dear drops embalm Constantia's name?
Your face-ah, cruel fortune, can it be?—
These eyes shall never, never, never see!

For ever parted by the rolling main,

I now must feel a lordly husband's chain;
From every friend, from every joy remove,
And the rough yoke of rude barbarians prove:
But so may Heav'n the precious issue bless,
And all find happiness through my distress!
Woman was doom'd, ere yet the world began,
The prey of sorrow, and the slave of man."

She could no more; her voice by sobs suppress'd,
And tears, pour'd forth in anguish, told the rest.
Wide through the crowd the sad contagion flew;
Each hoary beard is drench'd with mournful dew;
In shortening throbs ten thousand bosoms rise,
Grief showers its tempest from ten thousand eyes;
Along the shore the deepening groans extend,
And louder shrieks the cloudy concave rend:
Not through old Rome when desolation reign'd,
And bleeding senators her forum stain'd;
Not in the wreck of that all dismal night,
When I on tumbled from her tow'ry height;
Such uttering plaints the deep despair betray'd,
As now attend the dear departing maid.

To the tail ship, with slow desponding tread, All drown'd in grief the beauteous victim's led:

Women arn borne to thraldom and penance,
And to ben under mannes governance."
I trow at Troye whan Pirrus brake the wall,
Or Ilion brent, or Thebes the citee,
Ne at Rome for the harm thurgh Hanniball,
That Romans hath venqueshed times three,
N'as herd swiche tendre weping for pitee,
As in the chambre was for hire parting,
But forth she mote, wheder she wepe or sing.
O firste moving cruel firmament,
With thy diurnal swegh that croudest ay,
And hurtlest all from est til occident,
That naturally wold hold another way;
Thy crouding set the heven in swiche array
At the beginning of this fierce viage,
That cruel Mars hath slain this marriage.
Infortunat ascendent tortuous,

Of which the lord is helpeles fall, alas!
Out of his angle into the derkest hous.
O Mars, O Atyzar, as in this cas;
O feble Mone, unhappy ben thy pas,
Thou knittest thee ther thou art not received,
Ther thou were wel fro thennes art thou weived.

Imprudent emperour of Rome, alas !
Was ther no philosophre in al thy toun?
Is no time bet than other in swiche cas?

Of viage is ther non electioun,
Namely to folk of high conditioun,
Nat whan a rote is of a birth yknowe?
Alas! we ben to lewed, or to slow.

To ship is brought this woful faire maid
Solempnely, with every circumstance:
"Now Jesu Crist be with you all," she said.
Ther n'is no more, but "farewel fair Custance."
She peineth hire to make good countenance,

She turn'd, and with an aching wistful look, A long farewel of ev'ry field she took; "Adieu!" to all the melting crowd she cried"Adieu! Adieu !" the melting crowd reply'd; Her lanching bark the mournful notes pursue, And echoing hills return, "Adieu! Adieu !"

[riv'd,

Here let us leave the virgin on the main, With all her peerage, and her pompous train; To Syria let the swifter Muse repair, And say what cheer prepares her welcome there. The dame, from whom his birth the prince deImperial dowager, had yet surviv'd: Ambitious, greedy of supreme control, And born with all the tyrant in her soul, At filial government she long repin'd, Nor yet the reins of secret rule resign'd. Her savage sentiments her sex belied, And vers d in wiles with deepest statesmen vied; Yet o'er her soft'ning tongue, and soothing face, The subtle varnish spread with easy grace: The sage discern'd, but still confess'd her sway; And whom their hearts detest, their fears obey. Tenacious zeal her prophet's lore rever'd, The practice scorn'd, but to the text adher'd; And far as faith with fury could inflame, She was indeed a most religions dame.

When she her son's determin'd bent perceiv'd, Her breast with cruel agitation heav'd; Her call, each hoary, each experienc'd friend, In haste, and midnight privacy, attend; When dire, amid the dusky throng she rose, And from her tongue contagious poison flows. "Ye peers, ye pillars of our falling state! Too faithful subjects of a prince ingrate; A son, whom these detesting breasts have fed, A serpent grown, to your destruction bred! Say, shall a single hand such patriots awe? Insult your prophet, and supplant your law? First, Heav'n! be all the bonds of Nature broke, Ere I assume the curs'd, the Christian yoke: For, what import these innovating rites, But here a living death of all delights? Such threats as penitence can ne'er appease, The body's penance, and the mind's discase?

And forth I let hire sayle in this manere, And turne I wol againe to my matere.

The mother of the Soudan, well of vices,
Espied hath hire sones pleine entente,
How he wol lete his olde sacrifices:
And right anon she for her conseil sente,
And they ben comen, to know what she mente,
And whan assembled was this folk in fere,
She set hire doun, and sayd as ye shul here.

"Lordes," she sayd, "ye knowen everich on,
How that my sone in point is for to lete
The holy lawes of our Alkaron,
Yeven by Goddes messager Mahomete:
But on avow to grete God I hete,
The lif shal rather out of my body sterte,
Than Mahometes lawe out of myn herte.

"What shuld us tiden of this newe lawe
But thraldom to our bodies and penance,
And afterward in Helle to ben drawe,
For we reneied Mahound our creance?
But, lordes, wol ye maken assurance,

Yet, were I of some faithful hearts secure,
Not such the malady, but we can cure."

She spoke, and all with swift compliance swear, The glorious deed with all their pow'rs to dare; Her charge, though ne'er so bloody, to fulfill, Though ne'er so dang'rous, to effect her will.

"Doubt not a birth," she cried, "so well conceiv'd,

Great acts are more by fraud than force achiev'd;
To gain the conquest, we must seem to yield,
And feign to fly, that we may win the field.
Let each in public wear a Christian face,
And counterfeit the saintly signs of grace:
What though our skin the sprinkling priest baptize?
Our skin's unsully'd, while our hearts despise.
Not such the tricks our bolder hands shall play,
When revels end th' unsuspecting day;
Nor such the stream our purpling points shall shed,
When we shall, in our turn, baptize with red."

Ah, sex! still sweet, or bitter, to extreme;
Gloomy as night, or bright as morning beam!
No fiend's may with a female's wrath compare;
No angel's purity like woman's fair!
To save or damn, for bliss or ruin given,
Who has thee feels a Hell, or finds a Heav'n.

Smooth as the surface of the dimpled main,
While brooding storms the gath'ring ruin rein,
Her son, with dire dissembling leer she seeks,
And in the depth of smiling malice speaks.

As I shal say, assenting to my lore? And I shal make us sauf for evermore."

They sworen, and assented every man
To live with hire and die, and by hire stond':
And everich on, in the best wise he can,
To strengthen hire shal all his freudes fond.
And she hath this emprise ytaken in hond,
Which ye shull heren that I shall devise,
And to hem all she spake right in this wise.
"We shul first feine us Cristendom to take;
Cold water shal not greve us but a lite:
And I shal swiche a feste and revel make,
That, as I trow, I shal the Soudan quite.
For tho his wife be cristened never so white,
She shal have nede to wash away the rede,
Though she a font of water with hire lede."

O Soudannesse, rote of iniquitee,
Virago thou Semyramee the second,
O serpent under femininitee,

Like to the serpent depe in Helle ybound:
O feined woman, all that may confound
Vertue and innocence, thurgh thy malice
Is bred in thee, as nest of every vice.

O Sathan envious, sin thilke day
That thou were chased from our heritage,
Wel knowest thou to woman the olde way.
Thou madest Eva bring us in servage,
Thou wolt fordon this cristen mariage:
Thin instrument so (wala wa the while!)
Makest thou of women whan thou wolt begile.

This Soudannesse, whom I thus blame and warrie,
Let prively hire conseil gon hir way:
What shuld I in this tale longer tarie ?
She rideth to the Soudan on a day,
And sayd him, that she would reneie hire lay,

"My child! though froward age is over wise, Let no offence against a parent rise; Long habits gain a privilege from time, And frequent custom mellows ev'ry crime: Repugnant hence I dar'd to thwart your will; I fear'd the novelty, I fear'd the ill: But now, convinc'd by Christ's superior grace, His law I rev'rence, and his faith embrace. Bless'd be thy bed! thy bridal transports bless'd! Nor you refuse a mother's fond requestMine be the joy to entertain the fair; To form the festival, be mine the care; To show the peers who on thy bride attend, As she in beauty, we in love transcend."

The royal youth in silent wonder stood; Joy held his voice, and rapture thrill'd his blood: Around her knees his prostrate arms he threw, And duteous tears distill'd the grateful dew: Her son she rais'd, all innocent of ill, And smiling kiss'd whom soon she meant to kill. At length the bride, and all her solemn train, Past o'er the danger of the midland main: The main is past, but not the danger o'er ; The sea less cruel than the Syrian shore ! Applauding crowds the landed beauty greet, And Juda's peers in rich procession meet; Great was the throng, and splendid the array, And guards arranging lin'd the glitt'ring way. Such were the triumphs of imperial Rome, When conquest led some darling victor home; While meeting millions his approach withstand, And walls, and trees, and clamber'd roofs are mann’d. All gem'd in ornaments of curious mode, Gay in the van, the false sultana rode;

And Cristendom of prestes hondes fong,
Repenting hire she hethen was so long;

Beseching him to don hire that honour,
That she might han the Cristen folk to fest:
To plesen hem I wol do my labour.
The Soudan saith, "I wol don at your hest,"
And kneling, thanked hire of that request;
So glad he was, ne n'iste not what to say,
She kist hire sone, and home she goth hire way.

Arrived ben these Cristen folk to lond
In Surrie, with a gret solempne route,
And hastily this Soudan sent his sond,
First to his mother, and all the regne aboute,
And sayd, his wif was comen out of doute,
And praide hem for to riden again the quene,
The honour of his regne to sustene.

Gret was the presse, and riche was th'array
Of Surriens and Romanes met in fere.
The mother of the Soudan riche and gay
Received hire with all so glad a chere,
As any mother might hire doughter dere:
And to the nexte citee ther beside
A softe pas solempnely they ride.

Nought trow I, the triumph of Julius,
Of which that Lucan maketh swiche a bost,
Was realler, or more curious,
Than was th' assemblee of this blissful host:
But yet this scorpion, this wicked gost,
The Soudannesse, for all hire flattering
Cast under this ful mortally to sting.

Oft to her breast she clasp'd the heav'nly maid, And wond'ring oft with cruel gaze survey'd.

Last came the sultan, royal, hapless youth, Grace in his form, and in his bosom truth! The last he came, for timorous love controll'd, He fear'd, and long'd, and trembled to behold: A faint salute his faultering voice supplied; Scarce, "Welcome! O divinely fair!" he cried. He blush'd, and sigh'd, and gaz'd with wav'ring Nor dar'd to hope the blissful vision true. [view, Thus onward to a neighbouring town they far'd, In purpos'd pomp, and regal state prepar'd; And here the old maternal fiend invites, To order'd feasts, and dearly bought delights. Down sit the guests, triumphing clarions blow, Drums beat, mirth sings, and brimming goblets flow; In boundless revel ev'ry care is drown'd, And clamour shouts, and freedom laughs around. Ah, hapless state of ev'ry human mind, Wrap'd in the present, to the future blind! In the gay vapour of a lucky hour, Light folly mounts, and looks with scorn on pow'r : Nor sees how swift the tides of fortune flow, The swelling happiness and ebbing woe; That man should ne'er indulge, or bliss, or care, The prosperous triumph, or the wretch despair; So close, so sudden, each reverse succeeds, And mischief treads where'er success precedes. And now the night, with brooding horrours still, Gloom'd from the brow of each adjacent hill; Slow heav'd her bosom with distemper'd breath, And o'er her forehead hung the weights of death. Oppress'd with sleep, and drown'd in fumy wine, The prostrate guards their regal charge resign; But far within, still wakeful to delight, The prince and peers protract the festal night— When from the portal, lo! a sudden gloom Projects its horrours through the spacious room: Fearful and dark the ruffian bands appear, The dire sultana storming in the rear. The bloody task invading treason plies: Quick, and at once alarm'd, the nobles rise; But these, as faith or faction led, divide, And traitors most with entering traitors side:

The Soudan cometh himself sone after this
So really, that wonder is to tell:

And welcometh hire with all joye and blis.
And thus in mirth and joye I let hem dwell.
The fruit of this matere is that I tell.
Whan time came, men thought it for the best
That revel stint, and men go to hir rest.

The time come is, this olde Soudannesse
Ordeined hath the feste of which I tolde,
And to the feste Cristen folk hem dresse
In general, ya bothe yonge and olde.
Ther may men fest and realtee beholde,
And deintees mo than I can you devise,
But all to dere they bought it or they rise.

O soden wo, that ever art successour
To worldly blis, spreint is with bitternesse
Th' ende of the joye of our worldly labour:
Wo occupieth the fyn of our gladnesse.
Herken this conseil for thy sikernesse :
Upon thy glade day have in thy minde
The unware wo of harm, that cometh behinde.

Boards, bowls, and seats o'erturn'd, the pavement strow;

Of blood with wine the mingling currents flow;
Vain is the fear that wings their feet for flight,
They fall who basely fly or bravely fight;

With screams and groans the echoing courts resound,

And gasping Romans bite the trait'rous ground.

Say, royal Syrian! in that hour of death, Say, didst thou tamely then resign thy breath? Surprise, and shame, and love, and boundless rage, Flash from his eyes, and in his breast engage. Threat'ning aloft, his flaming steel he drew, And swift to save his lov'd Constantia flew ; Before his bride a beauteous bulwark stands, Now presses on, and backwards bears the bands; Bold to his aid surviving Romans spring, Some Syrians too could dare to join their king; Invaded late, they in their turn invade, And traitors are with mutual death repaid. But what may courage, what may strength avail, Where still o'erpow'ring multitudes assail; Where number with increasing number grows, And ev'ry sword must match a thousand foes? As melting snows with gradual waste subside, So sink the warriors from their hero's side: Thin'd are the remnants of his bleeding train, And scarce, but scaree, th' unequal strife sustain; Their veins exhausted and o'ertoil'd their might, And struggling, but to fall the last, they fight.

The monarch thus on ev'ry side distress'd, And hope extinguish'd in his valiant breast, Turn'd to his queen, he sent the parting look, And brief th' eternal last adieu he took: [end! "Since here," he cried, "our hapless loves must Where this arm fails, may mightier Heav'n defend! This is my last, my only, fond desire: Too bless'd am I, who in thy cause expire." So saying, with recruited pow'rs he glows, Exalted treads, and overlooks his foes: Of more than mortal size the warrior seems, And terrour from his eye imperial streams. The circling host his single voice defies; Amid the throng, with fury wing'd, he flies: Deep bites his sword, in heaps on heaps they fall; Hands, arms, and heads, bespread the sanguin'd hall; Untir'd with toil, resistless in his course, Disdain gave fury, and despair gave force. As here and there, his conquering steps he bends, Down his fair form the purpling stream descends; Exhausted nature would persuade to yield, But courage, still tenacious, holds the field. As when the lamp its wavering light essays, The source consum'd that fed the vital blaze, Extinguish'd now its kindly flame appears, And now aloft a livelier radiance rears; Subsides by fits, by fits again aspires, And bright, but doubtful, burn its fainting fires; Till recollected to one force of light, Sudden she flashes into endless nightSo the brave youth the blaze of life renews, Reels, stands, defends, attacks, and still subdues; Till ev'ry vein, and ev'ry channel drain'd, One last effort his valiant arm sustain'd: As lightning swift, he sped the latest blow, And greatly fell, expiring on his foe.

As should an oak within some village stand, Young, tall, and straight, the favourite of the land, Beneath the dews of Heav'n sublime he grows, Beneath his shade the wearied find repose;

To deck his boughs each morn the maidens rise,
And youths around his form contest the prize:
Yet haply if a sudden storm descend,
Sway'd by the blast, his beauteous branches bend;
But vig'rous, to their tow'ring height recoil,
Maintain the combat, and outbrave the toil;
Till the red bolt with levell'd ruin shoots,
And cuts the pillar'd fabric from the roots:
Swift falls the beauty o'er a length of ground;
The nymphs and swains incessant mourn around.
So did the youth with living form excel,
So fair, so tall, and so lamented, fell!
Relenting traitors would revive the dead,
And weep the blood their ruthless weapons shed:
One tender pang the dire sultana felt,
And nature, spite of Hell, compels to melt.

Whi'e sudden thus each bloody arm suspends,
And round their prince the satiate tumult bends;
Regardless of her fate, Constantia goes
Through pointed javelins, and a host of foes.
Amaze before the daring virgin yields,
And innocence from ev'ry weapon shields;
Till mourn ng by the great remains she stood,
And o'er her lover pour'd the copious flood:
"Ah, valiant arm! a waste of worth in vain!
Ah, royal youth," she cried, "untimely slain !
O! had I perish'd, ere I reach'd thy shore,
The surge devour'd, or wat'ry monsters tore;
To bless the world your worth had yet surviv'd,
Nor I, too fatally belov'd, arriv'd.
'Tis I, who have this dear effusion shed;
For me, for me, a luckless bride, you bled!"
So saying-furious, the sultana cries,

"Strike, strike; the source of all our mischief dies!" "Yes, strike!" the bright, th' intrepid maid replies. But vainly this consents, or that commands; Heay'r check'd their hearts, and pity bound their hands:

At once a thousand javelins rise in air;
A thousand wishes whisper-" Ah, forbear!"
Recoiling arms the bloody task refuse,
And beauty with resistless charm subdues.
Alone relentless, the sultana cries,

"T is well, the death she wish d, may still suffice:
Hence with that form, that knows so well to reign;
Hence with the witch, and plunge her in the main!
Her passage thence to Rome she may explore,
And tell her welcome on the Syrian shore."
So saying, quick to a selected band
She gave to execute the dire command;
Reluctant to the charge, they yet obey,
And to the shore the mourning fair convey.
Slow as she mov'd, soft sorrows bathe the ground;
Her guards too melt, and pitying weep around;
Though vers'd in blood, detest the stern commands,
And feel their hearts rebellious to their hands.
When now upon th' appointed beach they stood,
That look'd with horrour o'er the deep'ning flood,
Each ey'd his fellow with relenting look,
And each to each the cruel task forsook;

For shortly for to tellen at a word,
The Soudan and the Cristen everich on
Ben all to-hewe, and stiked at the bord,
But it were only dame Custance alone.
This old Soudannesse, this cursed crone,
Hath with hire frendes don this cursed dede,
For she hireself wold all the contree lede.

With distant awe the heav'nly maid survey,
Nor once her harm in act or thought essay.
The still suspense at length their leader broke,
And bow'd before the trembling beauty, spoke:
"O thou, endow'd with more than mortal charms,
Who ev'ry foe of all his force disarms!
Say, how shall we our pow'r or will employ ;
Where both are weak, to spare thee, or destroy-
Both impotent alike our pow'r and will,

The means to save thee, or the thoughts to kill?
Yet one extreme may cruelly remain,

To yield thee haply to the pitying main;
And Heav'n, who form'd thee so divinely fair,
If Heav'n has pow'r, will sure have will to spare.”
He said; the rest assent, and to the bay
With secret step the virgin-bride convey.
Convenient here a Roman bark they find;
They hoist the hasty canvass to the wind:
The bark with Roman wealth and plenty stow'd,
Now lanching with the lonely sailor rode;
The gale from shore with ready rapture blew,
And to her vessel bore the last adieu.

Now, stain'd with blood, the self-convicted night
Fled from the face of all inquiring light;
And morn, unconscious of the murd'rous scene,
O'er Syria, guilty Syria, rose serene.

The mountains sink before Constantia's eyes;
Wing'd o'er the surge, her bounding galley flies;
From sight of land, and human face conveys,
The skies alone above, and all around the seas.
Go, lovely mariner! imperial fair!
The warring winds and angry ocean dare;
Strange climes and spheres, a lone advent'rer view,
New to the main, and to misfortune new;
Without the chart, or polar compass steer,
Nor storms, in which the stoutest tremble, fear.
But ill those limbs, for gentle office form`d,
And in the down of nightly softness warm'd,
Shall now, obsequious to the ruder gale,
Command the frozen cord, and pond'rous sail;
Shall now, beneath the wat'ry sky obscure,
The nightly damp and piercing blast endure.

Thus all disconsolate, and sore distress'd,
And sorrow heaving in her beauteous breast,
Down sinks the fair; her hands in anguish rise,
And up to Heav'n she lifts her streaming eyes:
"O thou!" she said, "whence ev'ry being rose,
In whom they safe exist, and soft repose;
Fix'd in whose pow'r, and patient to whose eye,
Immense, those copious worlds of wonders lie;
To me, the meanest of thy works, descend;
To me, the last of ev'ry being, bend!

Ne ther was Surrien non that was converted,
That of the conseil of the Soudan wot,
That he n'as all to-hewe, er he asterted:
And Custance han they taken anon fote-hot,
And in a ship all stereles (God wot)

They han hire set, and bidden hire lerne sayle
Out of Surrie againward to Itaille.

A certain tresor that she thither ladde,
And soth to sayn, vitaille gret plentee,

They han hire yeven, and clothes eke she hadde,
And forth she sayleth in the salte see:
O my Custance, ful of benignitee,
emperoures yonge doughter dere,
He that is lord of fortune be thy stere.