Guy of Warwick | ||
Gij went forþ fulleliche wiþalle:
Was him þer no nedes to duelle.
On ich side he seye come kniȝtes,
Burieys, and seriaunce redi to fiȝtes
Wiþ alle þat crie of þat cuntre:
Wiþ hem nomen no wold ben he.
Him no was þer nouȝt worþ to abide:
He priked his hors & gan to ride.
Into a forest he gan to go.
Oft his stede he wiþ-went þo:
Mani he wounded, & mani he slouȝ
Of kniȝtes þat wer gode y-nouȝ.
Gij ferd forþ swiþe wiþ-alle
Opon his stede, þat bar him snelle.
Þurch þe forest swiþe he rode.
Þerl him oȝein went wiþouten abode.
Michel sorwe he made, y-pliȝt,
For his sone awreke he no miȝt.
His sone anon biri he dede
In a chirche bifore þe auter in þat stede.
Alle þat day Gij forþ rod,
Alle what þe sonne adoun glod:
Of alle niȝt he no blan rideinge
Fort amorwe in þe daweinge,
So þat he to Loreyin com:
Þe cuntres he knewe anon.
Wel riȝt he ȝede to þat cite:
Ichon þer fond he,
Alle þe best þat weren þare:
For him þai had michel care.
When þai him hole & sounde y-seþ
Of his coming glad hij beþ.
Was him þer no nedes to duelle.
On ich side he seye come kniȝtes,
Burieys, and seriaunce redi to fiȝtes
Wiþ alle þat crie of þat cuntre:
Wiþ hem nomen no wold ben he.
Him no was þer nouȝt worþ to abide:
He priked his hors & gan to ride.
Into a forest he gan to go.
Oft his stede he wiþ-went þo:
Mani he wounded, & mani he slouȝ
Of kniȝtes þat wer gode y-nouȝ.
Gij ferd forþ swiþe wiþ-alle
Opon his stede, þat bar him snelle.
Þurch þe forest swiþe he rode.
Þerl him oȝein went wiþouten abode.
Michel sorwe he made, y-pliȝt,
For his sone awreke he no miȝt.
His sone anon biri he dede
In a chirche bifore þe auter in þat stede.
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Alle what þe sonne adoun glod:
Of alle niȝt he no blan rideinge
Fort amorwe in þe daweinge,
So þat he to Loreyin com:
Þe cuntres he knewe anon.
Wel riȝt he ȝede to þat cite:
Ichon þer fond he,
Alle þe best þat weren þare:
For him þai had michel care.
When þai him hole & sounde y-seþ
Of his coming glad hij beþ.
Gij hem told þe soþe, y-wis,
Hou he fram þerl aschaped is.
Alle þai þonked god þo,
Þat deliuerd him of his wo.
Seþþen wold he nouȝt long duelle,
To his cuntre he wold snelle.
Hou he fram þerl aschaped is.
Alle þai þonked god þo,
Þat deliuerd him of his wo.
Seþþen wold he nouȝt long duelle,
To his cuntre he wold snelle.
Guy of Warwick | ||