The Conversion of Ferumbras - the Sultan of Babylon

King Charles turned agayne.
He saugh under an holme tre
Where a knight him semed lay slayn.
Thederward he rode with swerde in honde.
Tho he saugh he was alyve;
He lay walowynge uppon the sonde
With blody woundes fyve.
`What arte thow?' quod Charlemayne,
`Who hath the hurte so sore?'
`I am Ferumbras,' he saide certayn,
`That am of hethen lore.'
`O fals Saresyn,' quod the Kinge,
`Thou shalte have sorowe astyte;
By the I have lost my two cosynes,
Thyn hede shalle I of-smyte.'
`O gentil Kinge,' quod Ferumbrase,
`Olyvere my maister me hightpromised
To be baptised by Goddis grace,
And to dyen a Cristen knighte.
Honure were it noon to the
A discoumfite man to slo,
That is converted and baptized wolde be
And thy man bycomen also.'
The Kinge hade pité of him than;
He toke him to his grace
And assyned anoon a man
To lede him to his place.
He sende to him his surgyne
To hele his woundes wyde.
He ordeyned to him such medycyn,
That sone myght he go and ryde.
The Kinge commaunded Bishope Turpyn
To make a fonte redye,
To baptise Ferumbras therin
In the name of God Almyghtye.
He was cristened in that welle.
Floreyne the Kinge alle him calle;
He forsoke the foule feende of helle
And his fals goddis alle.
Nought for than Ferumbras
Alle his life cleped was he,
And aftirwarde in somme place,
Floreyne of Rome cité.
God for him many myracles shewed,
So holy a man he bycame.
That witnessith both lerned and lewde:
The fame of him so ranne.