 | Guy of Warwick |  |
1
God graunt hem heuen blis to medeÞat herken to mi romaunce rede
Al of a gentil kniȝt:
Þe best bodi he was at nede
Þat euer miȝt bistriden stede,
& freest founde in fiȝt.
Þe word of him ful wide it ran,
Ouer al þis warld þe priis he wan
As man most of miȝt.
Balder bern was non in bi:
His name was hoten sir Gij
Of Warwike, wise & wiȝt.
2
Wiȝt he was, for soþe to say,& holden for priis in eueri play
As kniȝt of gret bounde.
Out of þis lond he went his way
Þurch mani diuers cuntray,
Þat was biȝond þe see.
Seþþen he com into Inglond,
& Aþelston þe king he fond,
Þat was boþe hende & fre.
For his loue, ich vnder-stond,
He slouȝ a dragoun in Norþhumberlond,
Ful fer in þe norþ cuntre.
3
He & Herhaud, for soþe to say,To Wallingforþ toke þe way,
Þat was his faders toun.
Þan was his fader, soþe to say,
Ded & birid in þe clay:
His air was sir Gioun.
386
Deden him omage & feute,
& com to his somoun.
He tok alle his faders lond,
& ȝaf it hende Herhaud in hond
Riȝt to his warisoun.
4
& alle þat hadde in his seruise beHe ȝaf hem gold & riche fe
Ful hendeliche on honde,
And seþþen he went wiþ his meyne
To þerl Rohaud, þat was so fre:
At Warwike he him fond.
Alle þan were þai glad & bliþe,
& þonked god a þousand siþe
Þat Gij was comen to lond.
Seþe on hunting þai gun ride
Wiþ kniȝtes fele & miche pride
As ȝe may vnderstond.
5
On a day sir Gij gan fond,& feir Felice he tok bi hond,
& seyd to þat bird so bliþe:
‘Ichaue,’ he seyd, ‘þurch godes sond
Won þe priis in mani lond
Of kniȝtes strong & stiþe,
& me is boden gret anour,
Kinges douhter & emperour
To haue to mi wiue.
Ac, swete Felice,’ he seyd þan,
‘Y no schal neuer spouse wiman
Whiles þou art oliue.’
6
Þan answerd þat swete wiȝt,& seyd oȝain to him ful riȝt:
‘Bi him þat schope mankinne,
388
Of erl, baroun, & mani a kniȝt.
For noþing wil þai blinne.
Ac Gij,’ sche seyd, ‘hende & fre,
Al mi loue is layd on þe:
Our loue schal neuer tvinne,
& bot ich haue þe to make
Oþer lord nil y non take,
For al þis warld to winne.’
7
Anon to hir þan answerd Gij,To fair Felice, þat sat him bi,
Þat semly was of siȝt:
‘Leman,’ he seyd, ‘gramerci!’
Wiþ ioie & wiþ melodi
He kist þat swete wiȝt.
Þan was he boþe glad & bliþe:
His ioie couþe he noman kiþe
For þat bird so briȝt.
He no was neuer þer-biforn
Half so bliþe seþe he was born
For nouȝt þat man him hiȝt.
8
On a day þerl gan fond,& fair Felice he tok bi hond,
& hir moder biside:
‘Douhter,’ he seyd, ‘now vnder-stond;
Why wiltow haue non husbond
Þat miȝt þe spouse wiþ pride?
Þou has ben desired of mani man,
& ȝete no wostow neuer nan
For nouȝt þat miȝt bitide.
Leue douhter hende and fre,
Telle me now, par charite,
What man þou wilt abide.’
390
9
Felice answerd oȝain:‘Fader,’ quaþ hye, ‘ichil þe sain
Wiþ wordes fre & hende.
Fader,’ quaþ sche, ‘ichil ful fayn
Tel þe at wordes tvain,
Bi him þat schop mankende,
Opon sir Gij, þat gentil kniȝt,
Y-wis, mi loue is alle aliȝt,
In warld where þat he wende;
& bot he spouse me, at o word,
Y no kepe neuer take lo[r]d
Day wiþouten ende.’
10
Þan seyd þerl wiþ wordes fre,‘Douhter, y-blisced mot þou be
Of godes mouþe to mede.
Ich hadde wele leuer þan al mi fe
Wiþ þan he wald spousy þe,
Þat douhti man of dede.
He haþ ben desired of mani woman,
& he haþ forsaken hem euerilcan,
Þat worþly were in wede.
Ac naþeles ichil to him fare,
For to witen of his answare,
Þat douhti man of dede.’
11
On a day, wiþouten lesing,Þerl him rode on dere hunting,
& sir Gij þe conquerour.
Als þai riden on her talking
Þai speken togider of mani þing,
Of leuedis briȝt in bour.
Þerl seyd to sir Gij hende & fre,
‘Tel me þe soþe, par charite,
Y pray þe par amoure:
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Spouse ani wiman to wiue
Þat falleþ to þine anour?’
12
Sir Gij answerd & seyd þan,‘Bi him,’ he seyd, ‘þat þis warld wan,
To sauen al man-kende,
Bi nouȝt þat y tel can
Y nil neuer spouse wiman
Saue on is fre & hende.’
‘Sir,’ quaþ þerl, ‘listen nov to me:
Y haue a douhter briȝt on ble;
Y pray þe, leue frende,
To wiue wiltow hir vnderstond?
Y schal þe sese in al mi lond,
To hold wiþ-outen ende.’
13
‘Gramerci!’ seyd Gij anon;‘So help me Crist & seyn Ion,
And y schuld spouse a wiue
Ich hadde leuer hir bodi alon
Than winnen al þis warldes won
Wiþ ani woman oliue.’
Þan seyd þerl, ‘gramerci!’
& in his armes he kist sir Gij,
& þonked him mani a siþe.
‘Sir Gij,’ he seyd, ‘þou art mi frende:
Now þou wilt spouse mi dohter hende
Was y neuer are so bliþe.
14
Ac certes,’ seyd þerl so fre,‘Sir Gij, ȝif þou wilt trowe me
No lenger þou no schalt abide:
Now for fourteniȝt it schal be
Þe bridal hold wiþ gamen & gle
At Warwike in þat tyde.’
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His joie couþe he no man kiþe.
To his ostel he gan ride.
& þo Gij com hom to his frende,
He schuld spouse his douhter hende
He teld Herhaud þat tide.
15
Þerl Rouhaud as swiþe dede sendeAfter lordinges fer & hende
Þat pris wel told in tour.
When þe time was comen to þende
To chirche wel feir gun þai wende
Wiþ mirþe & michel anour.
Miche semly folk was gadred þare
Of erls, barouns lasse & mare,
& leuedis briȝt in bour.
Þan spoused sir Gij þat day
Fair Felice, þat miri may,
Wiþ ioie & gre[t] vigour.
16
When he hadde spoused þat swete wiȝtÞe fest lasted a fourtenniȝt,
Þat frely folk in fere
Wiþ erl, baroun, & mani a kniȝt,
And mani a leuedy fair & briȝt,
Þe best in lond þat were.
Þer wer ȝiftes for þe nones,
Gold, & siluer, & precious stones,
& druries riche & dere.
Þer was mirþe & melody,
And al maner menstracie
As ȝe may forþeward here.
17
Þer was trumpes & tabour,Fiþel, croude, & harpour,
Her craftes for to kiþe,
396
Minstrels of mouþe, & mani dysour,
To glade þo bernes bliþe.
Þer nis no tong may telle in tale
Þe ioie þat was at þat bridale
Wiþ menske & mirþe to miþe;
For þer was al maner of gle
Þat hert miȝt þinke oþer eyȝe se
As ȝe may list & liþe.
18
Herls, barouns hende & fre,Þat þer war gadred of mani cuntre,
Þat worþliche were in wede,
Þai ȝouen glewemen for her gle
Robes riche, gold, & fe:
Her ȝiftes were nouȝt gnede.
On þe fiften day ful ȝare
Þai toke her leue for to fare,
& þonked hem her gode dede.
Þan hadde Gij, þat gentil kniȝt,
Feliis to his wil day & niȝt
In gest al-so we rede.
19
When Gij hadde spoused þat hendy flour,Fair Feliis, so briȝt in bour,
Þat was him leue & dere,
Y-wis, in Warwike in þat tour
Fiften days wiþ honour
Wiþ ioie togider þai were.
So it bifel þat first niȝt
Þat he neyȝed þat swete wiȝt
A child þai geten y-fere,
& seþþen wiþ sorwe & sikeing sare
Her ioie turned hem into care
As ye may forward here.
398
20
Þan was sir Gij of gret renoun& holden lord of mani a toun
As prince proude in pride;
Þat erl Rohaut & sir Gyoun,
In fretþe to fel þe dere adoun,
On hunting þai gun ride.
It bi-fel opon a somers day
Þat sir Gij at Warwike lay
(In herd is nouȝt to hide);
At niȝt, in tale as it is told,
To bedde went þe bernes bold
Bi time, to rest þat tide.
21
To a turet sir Gij is went,& biheld þat firmament,
Þat thicke wiþ steres stode.
On Iesu omnipotent,
Þat alle his honour hadde him lent,
He þouȝt wiþ dreri mode;
Hou he hadde euer ben strong werrour,
For Iesu loue, our saueour,
Neuer no dede he gode.
Mani man he hadde slayn wiþ wrong.
‘Allas, allas!’ it was his song:
For sorwe he ȝede ner wode.
22
‘Allas,’ he seyd, ‘þat y was born:Bodi & soule icham forlorn.
Of blis icham al bare.
For neuer in al mi liif biforn
For him þat bar þe croun of þorn
Gode dede dede y nare;
Bot wer & wo ichaue wrouȝt,
& mani a man to grounde y-brouȝt:
Þat rewes me ful sare.
400
Barfot to mi liues ende,
To bid mi mete wiþ care.’
23
As Gij stode þus in tour alonIn hert him was ful wo bigon:
‘Allas!’ it was his song.
Þan com Feliis sone anon,
& herd him make rewely mon
Wiþ sorwe & care among.
‘Leman,’ sche seyd, ‘what is þi þouȝt?
Whi artow þus in sorwe brouȝt?
Meþenke þi pain wel strong.
Hastow ouȝt herd of me bot gode,
Þat þou makes þus dreri mode?
Y-wis, þou hast gret wrong.’
24
‘Leman,’ seyd Gij oȝain,‘Ichil þe telle þe soþe ful fain
Whi icham brouȝt to grounde.
Seþþen y þe seyȝe first wiþ ayn
(“Allas þe while,” y may sayn)
Þi loue me haþ so y-bounde,
Þat neuer seþþen no dede y gode,
Bot in wer schadde mannes blode
Wiþ mani a griseli wounde.
Now may me rewe al mi liue.
That euer was y born o wiue,
Wayle-way þat stounde!
25
Ac ȝif ich hadde don half þe dedeFor him þat on rode gan blede
Wiþ grimly woundes sare,
In heuene he wald haue quit mi mede,
In joie to won wiþ angels wede
Euer-more wiþ-outen care.
402
For his loue dede y neuer nouȝt.
Iesu amende mi fare!
Þerfore ich wot þat icham lorn:
Allas þe time þat y was born!
Of blis icham al bare.
26
Bot god is curteys & hende,& so dere he haþ bouȝt mankende,
For noþing wil hem lete.
For his loue ichil now wende
Barfot to mi liues ende,
Mine sinnes for to bete,
Þat whore so y lye aniȝt
Y schal neuer be seyn wiþ siȝt
Bi way no bi strete.
Of alle þe dedes y may do wel
God graunt þe, lef, þat haluendel
And Marie, his moder swete.’
27
Þan stode þat hende leuedi stille,& in hir hert hir liked ille,
& gan to wepe anon.
‘Leman,’ sche seyd, ‘what is þi wille?
Y-wis, þi speche wil me spille:
Y not what y may don.
Y wot þou hast in sum cuntre
Spoused anoþer woman þan me,
Þat þou wilt to hir gon.
& now þou wilt fro me fare,
Allas, allas, now comeþ mi care:
For sorwe ichil me slon.
28
For wer & wo þatow hast wrouȝt,God þat al mankende haþ bouȝt
So curteys he is & hende,
404
& þan þe þarf dout riȝt nouȝt
Oȝaines þe foule fende.
Chirches & abbays þou miȝt make
Þat schal pray for þi sake
To him þat schope mankende:
Hastow no nede to go me fro,
Saue þou miȝt þi soule fram wo
In joie wiþouten ende.’
29
‘Leue leman,’ þan seyd sir Gij,‘Lete ben alle þis reweful cri:
It is nouȝt worþ þi tale.
For mani a bern & kniȝt hardi
Ich haue y-sleyn, sikerly,
& strued cites fale,
& for ich haue destrued mankin
Y schal walk for mi sinne
Barfot bi doun & dale.
Þat ich haue wiþ mi bodi wrouȝt
Wiþ mi bodi it schal be bouȝt,
To bote me of þat bale.
30
Leman,’ he seyd, ‘par charite,Astow art boþe hende & fre,
O þing y þe pray:
Loke þou make no sorwe for me,
Bot hold þe stille astow may be
Til to-morwe at day.
Gret wele þi fader, þat is so hende,
& þi moder, & al þi frende
Bi sond as y þe say.
Grete wele Herhaud, y þe biseche.
Leman, god y þe biteche:
Y wil fare forþ in mi way.
406
31
Leman, y warn þe biforn,Wiþ a knaue child þou art y-corn,
Þat douhti beþ of dede.
For him þat bar þe croun of þorn
Þerfore as sone as it is born
Pray Herhaud wiȝt in wede
He teche mi sone as he wele can
Al þe þewes of gentil man,
& helpe him at his nede;
For he is boþe gode & hende,
& euer he haþ ben trewe & kende:
God quite him his mede!
32
Leman,’ he seyd, ‘haue here mi brond,& take mi sone it in his hond,
Astow art hende & fre!
He may þer-wiþ, ich vnder-stond,
Winne þe priis in eueri lond;
For better may non be.
Leman,’ he seyd, ‘haue now gode day:
Ichil fare forþ in mi way,
& wende in mi jurne.’
Þai kist hem in armes tvo,
& boþe þai fel aswon þo.
Gret diol it was to se.
33
Gret sorwe þai made at her parting,& kist hem wiþ eyȝen wepeing:
Bi þe hond sche gan him reche.
‘Leman,’ sche seyd, ‘haue here þis ring,
For Iesus loue heuen-king
A word y þe biseche:
When þou ert in fer cuntre
Loke heron, & þenk on me,
& god y þe biteche.’
408
Wepeand wiþ eyȝen to
Wiþouten more speche.
| Guy of Warwick | |