Note 343 — How King Madan for his euill life was slayne by Wolues, The yeare before Christ, 1009.

Alas that youth (in vayne) so vyly spent, Should euer cause a king to haue such ende: Alas that euer I should here lament, Or else should teache vnto my cost my frende: Alas that fortune such mishap should sende: But sithe it is to late for me to crie, I wishe that others may take hede herebye. I might full well by wisdome shund this snare, Tis sayde a wiseman all mishap withstandes. For though by starres we borne to mischieues are: Yet prudence bayles vs quite, from carefull bandes, Eche man (they say) his fate hath in his handes, And what he makes, or marres to lese, or saue Of good, or euill, is euen selfe do selfe haue. As here thou seest by me, that led my dayes In vicious sorte, for greedy wolues a praye: Warne others wysely, than to guide their wayes By mine example, wel eschue they may, Such vices as may worke their own decay: Which if they do, full well is spent the time To warne, to wryte, and eke to reade this rime.

When this was said, no more was Madan seene, (If it were he) but sure I half suspecte It was some other else, so seru’de had bene, For that all stories do not so detecte His death, or else I did perhaps neglecte His tale, bicause that diuers stories brought, Such fancies of his death into my thought. Therefore although it be not as some write Here pende by me, and yet as others haue: Let it not greeue thee reade that I recite, And take what counsaile of good life he gaue: I trust I may (that dreame) some pardon craue, For if the reste, no dreames but stories pen: Can I for that they wryte be blamed then? No sure, I thinke the readers will not giue Such captious dome, as Momus erste did vse, Though Zoilus impes as yet do carping liue: And all good willing writers much misuse. Occasion biddes me some such beastes accuse, Yet for their bawling hurtes me not I nill: But with my purpose, on procede I will. Next after that, came one in princely raye A worthy wight but yonge, yet felt the fall: It seemde he had bene at some warlike fraye, His breste was woundid wide and bloudy all: And as to mynde he musde his factes to call, Depe sighes he fet, made all his limmes to shake: At length these wordes, or like to me he spake.