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‘Sir erl,’ quaþ Gij, ‘þer-of speke nouȝt:
Al idel þou hast me þer-of bisouȝt.
Gret wille ich haue to þat waye:
Y no lete it nouȝt, þer-fore to daye.
No were it for þe loue of mi leman,
Nold ich neuer wende þe fram,
Ac wiþ þe euer duelle ich wolde,
Þat neuer departi we ne scholde.
Gon ich mot, wille y so nille,
O-þink þe nouȝt, y may nouȝt duelle.’
Togider þai kisten hem þo,
At her departing þai wepen bo:
Boþe þai wepen bitterliche,
Þat folk hadde þerof pite miche.
Alle þe men þat þer were
Was for hem sori þere
At the departing of to feren:
Wel gode kniȝtes boþe þai weren.
Gij lepe on a mule ambling,
Bi þe way he rideþ sorweing.
Tirri bileft sorwe makeing,
& Gij his felawe bimeninge.
So miche sorwe he made day & niȝt,
No man miȝt tellen it, y ȝou pliȝt.
Sir Gij no lan neuer rideing,
Til he com to þe se, wiþ-outen lesing.
Gode winde he haþ, & passeþ sone,
& come in-to Inglond mididone.
Now forþ to Warwik he is y-go,
King Aþelston þer he fond þo;
& when he was to Warwike com,
Wiþ ioie þai him vnder-fenge alle & some.
Þe king toȝeines him is y-go
Wiþ kniȝtes & burieys also,
For he him herd preyse so miche:
Þe king him loued, sikerliche,
And wiþ him soiournd sir Gij þe fre.
On a day at þe ches pleyden he:
Wiþ þat come þer þre men rideinde,
Of þe cuntre fre men heldinde:
To þe king þai seyd, ‘sir, vnder-stond:
Hard tidinges we bring þe an hond.
Bot ȝe sone take ȝeme þer-to,
Alle ȝour lond ȝe schul forgo.
Þer is comen opon þi lond
A best þat bringeþ it al to schond.
Out of Irlond it come:
To miche harm it haþ y-don.
It no leueþ man no wiman non,
Þat it no sleþ hem ichon
Bot sum þat aschaped beþ
Þurch chaunce and to þe cites.
It freteþ men & bestes also;
Riȝt for soþe y telle þe to,
Neuer nas best no so kene.
Gret heued it haþ & gastelich to sene:
His nek is greter þan a bole,
His bodi is swarter þan ani cole.
It is michel, & long, & griseliche,
Fram þe nouel vpward vnschepliche.
Þe smallest scale þat on him is
No wepen no may atame, y-wis.
As a somer it is brested bifore in þe brede
& swifter ernend þan ani stede.
He haþ clawes also a lyoun.
Men seyþ þat it is a dragoun.
Gret wenges he haþ wiþ to fle.
His schaft to telle alle ne mow we.
Þe bodi is gret toward þe teyle.
Swiche a best nas neuer, saunfeyle.
Þe teyle is gret & wel long:
In þe warld nis man so strong,
& were y-armed neuer so,
& he wiþ þe teyle smot him to,
Þat he no worþ ded anon:
No schuld he neuer ride no gon.’