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The rede statue of Mars, with spere and targe, |
| So shyneth, in his white baner large, |
| That alle the feeldes gliteren up and doun, |
| 120 | And by his baner gorn is his penoun |
| Of gold ful riche, in which ther was ybete |
| The Mynotaur which that he slough in Crete. |
| Thus rit this duc, thus rit this conquerour, |
| And in his hoost of chivalrie the flour, |
| 125 | Til that he cam to Thebes, and alighte |
| Faire in a feeld, ther as he thoughte to fighte. |
| But shortly for to speken of this thyng, |
| With Creon, which that was of Thebes kyng, |
| He faught, and slough hym manly as a knyght |
| 130 | In pleyn bataille, and putte the folk to flyght; |
| And by assaut he wan the citee after, |
| And rente adoun bothe wall, and sparre, and rafter. |
| And to the ladyes he sestored agayn |
| The bones of hir freendes that weren slayn, |
| 135 | To doon obsequies as was tho the gyse. |
| But it were al to longe for to devyse |
| The grete clamour and the waymentynge |
| That the ladyes made at the brennynge |
| Of the bodies, and the grete honour |
| 140 | That Theseus, the noble conquerour, |
| Dooth to the ladyes, whan they from hym wente; |
| But shortly for to telle is myn entente. |
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The image of red Mars, with spear and shield, |
| So shone upon his banner's snow-white field |
| It made a billowing glitter up and down; |
| 120 | And by the banner borne was his pennon, |
| On which in beaten gold was worked, complete, |
| The Minotaur, which he had slain in Crete. |
| Thus rode this duke, thus rode this conqueror, |
| And in his host of chivalry the flower, |
| 125 | Until he came to Thebes and did alight |
| Full in the field where he'd intent to fight. |
| But to be brief in telling of this thing, |
| With Creon, who was Thebes' dread lord and king, |
| He fought and slew him, manfully, like knight, |
| 130 | In open war, and put his host to flight; |
| And by assault he took the city then, |
| Levelling wall and rafter with his men; |
| And to the ladies he restored again |
| The bones of their poor husbands who were slain, |
| 135 | To do for them the last rites of that day. |
| But it were far too long a tale to say |
| The clamour of great grief and sorrowing |
| Those ladies raised above the bones burning |
| Upon the pyres, and of the great honour |
| 140 | That Theseus, the noble conqueror, |
| Paid to the ladies when from him they went; |
| To make the story short is my intent. |
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