 | Guy of Warwick |  |
73
‘God man,’ seyd Gij, ‘listen me now.For þine sones gret sorwe hastow,
& no wonder it nis.
When þou Gij & Herhaud hast souȝt,
& þou no may hem finde nouȝt,
Þi care is michel, y-wis.
Þurch hem þine hope was to go fre,
& þi sones al forþ wiþ þe,
Þurch godes help & his.
440
For douhti man y was told
& holden of gret priis.
74
Þurch godes helpe, our driȝt(He be min help, & ȝiue me miȝt,
& leue me wele to spede!),
& for Gyes loue & Herhaud also,
Þat þou hast souȝt wiþ michel wo,
Þat douhti were of dede,
Batayl ichil now for þe fong
Oȝain þe geaunt, þat is so strong,
Þou seyst is so vnrede.
& þei he be þe fende out-riȝt,
Y schal for þe take þe fiȝt,
& help þe at þis nede.’
75
When þerl herd him speke so,Þat he wald batayl fong for him þo,
He biheld fot & heued:
Michel he was of bodi piȝt,
A man he semed of michel miȝt,
Ac pouerliche he was biweued;
Wiþ a long berd his neb was growe.
Miche wo him þought he hadde y-drowe.
He wende his wit were reued,
For he seyd he wald as ȝern
Fiȝt wiþ þat geaunt stern
Bot ȝif he hadde him preued.
76
‘God man,’ þan seyd he,‘God al-miȝten for-ȝeld it þe,
Þat is so michel of miȝt,
Þatow wost batayl for me fong
Oȝain þe geaunt, þat is so strong.
Þou knowest him nouȝt, y pliȝt.
442
Sternliche wiþ his eyȝen blake,
So grim he is of siȝt,
Wastow neuer so bold in al þi teime,
Þatow durst batayl of him nim,
No hold oȝaines him fiȝt.’
77
‘Gode man,’ seyd Gij, ‘lat be þat þouȝt,For swiche wordes help ous nouȝt
Oȝain þat schrewe qued.
Mani haþ loked me opon
Wiþ wicked wil, mani on
Þat wald han had min hed;
& þei no fled y neuer ȝete,
No neuer for ferd batayl lete
For noman þat brac bred.
& þei he be þe deuels rote,
Y schal nouȝt fle him a fot,
Bi him þat suffred ded.’
78
‘Leue sir,’ þan seyd he,‘God of heuen forȝeld it te:
Þine wordes er ful swete.’
For ioie he hadde in hert þat stounde
On knes he fel adoun to grounde,
& kist sir Gyes fet.
Gij tok him vp in armes to.
Into Alisaunder þai gun go,
Wiþ þe king to mete;
& when þai com in-to þe tour
Bifor þe king sir Triamour,
Wel fair þai gun him grete.
79
And when he seye þerl Ionas,Unneþe he knewe him in þe fas:
So chaunged was his ble.
444
‘Telle me now wiþ-outen lesing,
Gij & Herhaud where ben he?’
Þerl answerd, & siked sore,
‘Gij no Herhaud sestow no more;
For soþe y telle þe,
For hem ich haue in Inglond ben,
& y no miȝt hem no-whar sen:
Þer-fore wel wo is me.
80
Ac þe lond folk teld me in specheÞat Gij was gon halwen to seche
Wel fer in vncouþe lond,
& Herhaud after him is went
For to seche him, verrament:
Noiþer of hem y no fond,
Ac þis man ich haue brouȝt to þe
Þat haþ ben man of gret bounte,
Þat wele dar take on hond
Oȝain þe geaunt þat is so fel,
Al for to fende þe ful wel:
For drede wil he nouȝt wond.’
81
‘Erl Ionas,’ seyd þe king,‘Loke wiþ him be no feynting,
Þat y deseyued be.
& ȝif þer be, þou schalt anon
Be honged & þi sones ichon.’
‘Y graunt, sir,’ þan seyd he.
Þe king cleped sir Gyoun,
& asked him at schort resoun,
‘What is þy name? tel me.’
Sir Gij answerd to þe king,
‘Youn,’ he said, ‘wiþ-outen lesing,
Men clepeþ me in mi cuntre.’
446
82
‘What cuntre artow?’ þe king sede.‘Of Inglond, so god me rede:
Þerin ich was y-bore.’
‘Owe,’ seyd þe king, ‘artow Inglis kniȝt,
Þan schuld y þurch skil and riȝt
Hate þe euer more.
Knewe þou nouȝt þe gode Gij
Or Herhaud þat was so hardi?
Tel me þe soþe bifore.
Wele ouȝt ich be Gyes foman:
He slouȝ mi broþer Helmadan;
Þurch him icham forlore.
83
Min em he slouȝ, þe riche Soudan,Ate mete among ous euerilkan.
Seyȝe y neuer man so bigin:
Y seyȝe hou he his heued of smot,
& bar it oway wiþ him fot hot,
Maugre þat was þer-inne.
After him we driuen þo,
Þe deuel halp him þennes to go:
Y trowe he is of his kinne.
Mahoun ȝaf þat þou wer he!
Ful siker miȝt y þan be
Þe maistri for to winne.’
84
Sir Gij answerd to þe king,‘Wel wele y knowe, wiþouten lesing,
Herhaud, so god me rede.
& ȝif þou haddest her on here,
Of þe maistri siker þou were,
Þe bateyl for to bede.’
448
‘Whi artow þus iuel y-diȝt
And in þus pouer wede?
A feble lord þou seruest, so þenkeþ me,
Or oway he haþ driuen þe
For sum iuel dede.’
85
‘Nay, sir, for god,’ quaþ Gij,‘A wel gode lord [ar] þan serue[d] y:
Wiþ him was no blame.
Wel michel honour he me dede,
& gret worþschipe in eueri stede,
& sore ich haue him grame[d],
& þer-fore icham þus y-diȝt,
To cri him merci day & niȝt,
Til we ben frendes same.
& mi lord & y frende be,
Ichil wende hom to mi cuntre,
& liue wiþ ioie & game.’
86
‘Frende Youn,’ seyd þe king,‘Wiltow fiȝt for mi þing?
Oþer y schal anoþer puruay.’
‘Þerfor com ich hider,’ quaþ Gij,
‘Þurch Godes help & our leuedi
As wele as y may.
Bot first þerl Ionas & his sones
Schal be deliuerd out of prisones
Þis ich selue day.’
Þe king answerd, ‘y graunt þe.
Mahoun he mot þine he[l]p be,
Þat is mi lord verray.’
450
87
‘Nay,’ seyd Gij, ‘bot Marie sone:He mot me to help come,
For Mahoun is worþ nouȝt.’
‘Frende Youn,’ seyd þe king,
‘Under-stond now mi teling,
Al what ich haue y-þouȝt.
Ȝif þat þou may ouercom þe fiȝt,
& defende me wiþ riȝt
(Þe wrong is on me souȝt),
So michel y schal for þe do,
Þat men schal speke þer-of euer mo
As wide as þis wald is wrouȝt.
88
Alle þe men þat in my prisoun beÞai schul be deliuerd for loue of þe
Þat Cristen men be told.
Fram henne to Ynde þat cite
Quite-claym þai schul go fre
Boþe ȝong and old.
And so gode pes y schal festen anon,
Þat Cristen men schul comen & gon
To her owhen wille in wold.’
‘Gramerci,’ þan seyd sir Gij.
‘Þat is a fair ȝift, sikerly.
God leue þe it wele to hold.’
89
Þe king dede make a baþe anon riȝt,For to baþe Gij & better diȝt:
In silk he wald him schrede.
452
‘Swiche cloþes non kepe y,
Also god me rede,
To were cloþes gold-bi-go
(For y was neuer wont þerto)
No non so worþliche wede.
Mete and drink anouȝ ȝiue me,
& riche cloþes lat þou be:
Y kepe non swiche prede.
90
& when þe time com to þende,Þat þai schuld to court wende,
Þer sembled a fair ferred.
King Triamour maked him ȝare þo,
And Fabour his sone dede also,
Wiþ kniȝtes stiþe on stede.
To court ward þan went he,
To Espire, þat riche cite,
Wiþ joie & michel prede.
To þe Soudan þai went on heye
Wiþ wel gret cheualrie,
Bateyle for to bede.
91
Gij was ful wele in armes diȝtWiþ helme, & plate, & brini briȝt,
Þe best þat euer ware.
Þe hauberk he hadde was renis,
Þat was king Clarels, y-wis,
In Ierusalem when he was þare.
A þef stale it in þat stede,
& oway þerwiþ him dede:
To heþenesse he it bare.
King Triamours elders it bouȝt,
& in her hord house þai þouȝt
To hold it euer mare.
454
92
Sir Gij þai toke it in þat plas.Þritti winter afrayd it nas:
Ful clere it was of mayle,
As briȝt as ani siluer it was:
Þe halle schon þerof as sonne of glas,
For soþe wiþouten fayle.
His helme was of so michel miȝt,
Was neuer man ouer-comen in fiȝt
Þat hadde it on his ventayle.
It was Alisaunders, þe gret lording,
When he fauȝt wiþ Poreus þe king,
Þat hard him gan aseyle.
93
A gode swerd he hadde, wiþ-outen faile,Þat was Ectors in Troye batayle,
In gest as so men fint.
Ar he þat swerd dede forgon,
Of Grece he slouȝ þer mani on,
Þat died þurch þat dint.
Hose & gambisoun so gode kniȝt schold,
A targe listed wiþ gold
About his swere he hint.
Nas neuer wepen þat euer was make[d]
Þat o schel miȝt þerof take,
Na more þan of þe flint.
94
Or king Triamours elders it lauȝt,King Darri sum time it auȝt:
Þat Gij was vnder piȝt.
Ich man axe oþer bigan
Whennes & who was þat man
Þat wiþ þe geaunt durst fiȝt.
King Triamour seyd wiþ wordes fre,
‘Sir Soudan, herken now to me,
Astow art hendy kniȝt.
456
To defende me of þat ich gome
Þat is so stern of siȝt.
95
Þis litel kniȝt þat stont me bySchal fende me of þat felonie,
& make me quite & skere.’
‘Be stille,’ seyd þe Soudan þo,
‘Þat batail schal wel sone be go,
Also brouke y mi swere.’
He dede clepe Amorant so grim,
& Gij stode & loked on him,
Hou foule he was of chere.
‘It is,’ seyd Gij, ‘no mannes sone:
It is a deuel fram helle is come.
What wonder doþ he here?
96
Who miȝt his dintes dreye,Þat he no schuld dye an heye?
So strong he is of dede.’
Þan speken þai alle of þe batayle:
Where it schuld be, wiþ-outen fayle,
Þai token hem to rede.
Þan loked þai it schuld be
In a launde vnder þe cite:
Þider þai gun hem lede.
Wiþ a riuer it ern al about:
Þer-in schuld fiȝt þo kniȝtes stout.
Þai miȝt fle for no nede.
97
Ouer þe water þai went in a bot,On hors þai lopen fot hot,
Þo kniȝtes egre of mode.
458
& smiten togider wiþ dentes grete,
& ferd as þai wer wode,
Til her schaftes in þat tide
Gun to schiuer bi ich a side
About hem þer þai stode.
Þan þai drouȝ her swerdes grounde,
& hewe togider wiþ grimli wounde,
Til þai spradde al ablode.
98
Sir Amoraunt drouȝ his gode brond,Þat wele carf al þat it fond,
When he hadde lorn his launce:
Þat neuer armour miȝt wiþstond
Þat was made of smitþes hond
In heþenesse no in Fraunce.
It was sir Ercules þe strong,
Þat mani he slouȝ þer-wiþ wiþ wrong
In batayle & in destaunce.
Þer was neuer man þat it bere
Ouer-comen in batayle no in were,
Bot it were þurch meschaunce.
99
It was baþed in þe flom of helle:A goddes ȝaf it him to wille,
He schuld þe better spede.
Who þat bar þat swerd of miȝt,
Was neuer man ouercomen in fiȝt,
Bot it were þurch vnlede.
Þer worþ sir Gij to deþ y-brouȝt,
Bot ȝif god haue of him þouȝt,
His best help at nede.
Togider þai wer ȝern heweinde
Wiþ her brondes wele kerueinde,
And maden her sides blede.
460
100
Sir Amoraunt was agreued in hert,& smot to Gij a dint ful smert
Wiþ alle þe miȝt he gan welde,
& hitt him on þe helme so briȝt,
Þat alle þe stones of michel miȝt
Fleyȝe doun in þe feld.
Al of þe helme þe swerd out stint,
& forþ riȝt wiþ þat selue dint
Oþer half fot of þe scheld,
Þat neuer was atamed ar þan
For kniȝt no for no noþer man,
No were he neuer so beld.
101
Þe sadel bowe he clef atvo,Þe stedes nek he dede also,
Wiþ his grimli brond.
Wiþ-outen wem or ani wounde
Wele half a fot in-to þe grounde
Þe scharp swerd it wond.
Sir Gij to grounde fallen is,
He stirt vp anon, y-wis,
& loked, & gan wiþ-stond.
Anon riȝt in þat ich stede
To god almiȝten he bad his bede,
& held vp boþe his hond.
102
Sir Gij anon vp stirtAs man þat was agremed in hert,
Nouȝt wel long he lay.
‘Lord,’ seyd Gij, ‘god al-miȝt,
Þat made þe þerkenes to þe niȝt,
So help me to-day.
Scheld me fro þis geaunt strong,
Þat y no deþ of him afong,
Astow art lord verray.
462
Wele schal y com out of þi dett
Ȝif þat I libbe may.’
103
Gij hent his swerd, þat was ful kene,& smot Amoraunt wiþ hert tene
A dint þat sat ful sore,
Þat a quarter of his scheld
He made to fleye in þe feld
Al wiþ his grimli gore.
Þe stedes nek he smot atvo,
Amoraunt to grounde is fallen þo:
Wo was him þerfore.
Þan wer on fot þo kniȝtes bold:
Fiȝt ofot ȝif þai wold.
Her stedes þai han forlore.
104
Amoraunt wiþ hert ful grimSmot to Gij, & Gij to him,
Wiþ strokes stern & stiue.
Hard þai hewe wiþ swerdes clere,
Þat helme & swerd, þat strong were,
Þai gun hem al to-driue.
Hard fouȝten þo champiouns,
Þat boþe plates & hauberiouns
Þai gun to ret & riue,
& laiden on wiþ dintes gret.
Aiþer of hem so oþer gan bete,
Þat wo was hem oliue.
105
Sir Amoraunt was agreued strong,Þat o man stode him þo so long.
To Gij a strok he rauȝt,
& hit him on þe helme so briȝt,
Þat al þe floures fel doun riȝt.
Wiþ a ful grimly drauȝt
464
& forþ wiþ his dint also
Þer bileued it nouȝt:
On þe scheld þe swerd doun fel,
And cleue it in-to haluendel,
Almost to grounde him brouȝt.
106
What wiþ þe swerdes out draweing,& wiþ his hetelich out braiding,
Þer fel a wonder cas:
Sir Gij fel on knes to grounde,
& stirt vp in þat selue stounde,
& seyd, ‘lord ful of grace,
Neuer dint of kniȝt non
No miȝt me are knele don
In no stede þer y was.’
Sir Gij hent vp his swerd fot hot,
Amoraunt on þe hod he smot,
Þat he stumbled in þe place.
107
He hit him on þe helme an heyȝe,& wiþ þat dint þe swerd it fleyȝe:
Bi þe nasel it gan doun founde,
& so it dede bi þe ventayle,
& carf it ato, saunfaile,
& in-to his flesche a wounde.
His targe wiþ gold list
He carf atvo þurch help of Crist,
He cleue þat ich stounde.
So heteliche þe brond out he pliȝt,
Þat Amoraunt anon riȝt
Fel on knes to grounde.
466
108
So strong batayle was hem bitvene:So seyd þai þat miȝt it sene
Þat seye þai neuer non swiche,
Þat neuer was of wiman born
Swiche to kniȝtes as þai worn,
Þat fouȝten togider wiþ wreche.
On a day bifor þe natiuite
Of seyn Ion, þe martir fre,
Þat holy man is to seche,
Togider fouȝt þo barouns boþe,
Þat in hert wer so wroþe.
Of loue was þer no speche.
109
Sir Amoraunt wiþ-drouȝ himWiþ loureand chere wroþ & grim,
For þe blod of him was lete,
Þat drink he most, oþer his liif forgon:
So strong þrust ȝede him opon,
So michel was his hete.
‘Fourti batayls ichaue ouercome,
Ac fond y neuer er moder sone
Þat me so sore gan bete.
Tel me,’ he seyd, ‘what artow?
Felt y neuer man ar now
Þat ȝaf dintes so grete.
110
Tel me,’ he seyd, ‘wennes þou be;For þou art strong, so mot y the,
& of michel miȝt.’
468
Cristen icham, wele þou wost,
Of Inglond born, y pliȝt.
King Triamour me hider brouȝt
For to defenden him, ȝif y mouȝt,
Of þat michel vnriȝt
Þat ȝe beren on him wiþ wouȝ,
Þat Fabour neuer Sadony slouȝ
Noiþer bi day no niȝt.’
111
‘O, artow Inglis?’ seyd Amorant.‘Now wald mi lord Teruagaunt
Þat þou were Gij þe strong!
Mahoun ȝaf þat þou wer he!
Bliþe wald y þan be
Batail of him to fong:
For he haþ destrud al our lawe,
His heued wald ichaue ful fawe,
Or heiȝe on galwes hong;
For keuer schal we neuer more
Þat he haþ don ous forlore
Wiþ wel michel wrong.
112
Wiþ michel wrong & michel wouȝFourti þousend of ous he slouȝ
In Costentin on a day:
He & Herhaud, his felawe,
Michel han destrud our lawe,
Þat euer-more mon y may.
Ȝif he wer slain wiþ brond of stiel
Þan were y wroken on hem ful wel
Þat han destrud our lay.’
Sir Gij answerd, ‘whi seistow so?
Haþ Gij ani þing þe misdo?’
Amoraunt seyd, ‘nay,
113
Ac it wer gret worþschip, y-wis,To alle þe folk of heþenisse,
Þat y hadde so wroken mi kende.
470
Þe weder is hot, astow may se;
Y pray þe, leue frende:
Leue, to drink þou lat me gon
For þe lordes loue þou leuest on,
Astow art gode & hende.
For þrist mi hert wil to-spring,
& for hete, wiþ-outen lesing,
Mi liue wil fro me wende.
114
& ȝif y schal be þus aqueldÞurch strong hete in þe feld
It were oȝain þe skille:
Unworþschipe it war to þe,
It were þe gret vilete
In wat lond þou com tille.
Ac lete me drink a litel wiȝt
For þi lordes loue ful of miȝt
Þat þou louest wiþ wille,
& y þe hot bi mi lay,
Ȝif þou haue ani þrest to-day,
Þou shalt drink al þi fille.’
115
Sir Gij answerd, ‘y graunt þe,& ȝete to-day þou ȝeld it me
Wiþ-outen ani fayle.’
& when he hadde leue of sir Gij
He was ful glad, sikerli:
No lenger nold he dayle.
To þe riuer ful swiþe he ran,
His helme of his heued he nam,
& vnlaced his ventayle.
When he hadde dronken alle his fille
He stirt vp wiþ hert grille,
& sir Gij began to asayle.
116
‘Kniȝt,’ he seyd, ‘ȝeld þe biliue;For þou art giled, so mot y þriue.
Now ichaue a drink,
472
Þou schalt dye wiþ michel sorwe,
For-soþe, wiþouten lesing.’
Þan þai drowen her swerdes long,
Þo kniȝtes þat wer stern & strong,
Wiþ-outen more dueling,
& aiþer gan oþer þer asayle;
& þer bi-gan a strong bataile
Wiþ wel strong fiȝting.
117
Amoraunt was ful egre of mode,& smot to Gij as he wer wode
(Ful egre he was to fiȝt),
Þat a quarter of his scheld
He made it fleye into the feld,
And of his brini briȝt:
Of his scholder þe swerd glod doun,
Þat boþe plates & hauberioun
He carf atvo, y pliȝt,
Al to þe naked hide, y-wis,
& nouȝt of flesche atamed is
Þurch grace of god almiȝt.
474
118
Þe scharp swerd doun gan glideFast bi sir Gyes side
(His knew it com ful neye),
Þat gambisoun & iambler
Boþe it karf atvo y-fere:
Into þerþe þe swerd it fleye
Wiþ-outen wem or ani wounde
Half a fot in-to þe grounde,
Þat mani man it seye.
& when Gij seye þat fair grace,
Þat noþing wounded he was,
Iesu he þanked on heye.
119
& when Gij feld him so smiteHe was wroþ, ȝe mow wite:
To Amoraunt he gan reken.
He hent his brond wiþ wel gode wille,
& stroke to him wiþ hert grille:
His scheld he gan to-breken.
So hetelich Gij him smot,
Þat into þe scholder half a fot
Þe gode swerd gan reken;
& wiþ þat strok Gij wiþ-drouȝ:
Weri he was forfouȝten y-nouȝ;
To Amoraunt he gan speken.
120
‘Sir Amoraunt,’ þan seyd Gij,‘For godes loue now merci,
Ȝif that þi wille be.
Ichaue swiche þrist þer y stond,
Y may vnneþe drawe min hond;
Þerfore wel wo is me.
Ȝeld me now þat ich dede:
Y ȝaf þe leue to drink at nede.
Astow art hende & fre,
Leue, to drink þou lat me go,
As it was couenaunt bitven ous tvo:
For loue y pray þe.’
476
121
‘Hold þi pes,’ seyd Amoraunt,‘For, bi mi lord sir Teruagaunt,
Leue no hastow non.
Ac now þat y þe soþe se,
Þat þou ginnes to feynt þe,
Þine heued þou schalt forgon.’
‘Amoraunt,’ seyd Gij, ‘do ariȝt:
Lete me drink a litel wiȝt
As y dede þe anon,
& togider fiȝt we:
Who schal be maister we schal se,
Wiche of ous may oþer slon.’
122
‘Hold þi pays,’ seyd Amoraunt,‘Y nil nouȝt held þe couenaunt
For ful þis toun of gold;
For when ichaue þe sleyn now riȝt
Þe Soudan, treweli, haþ me hiȝt
His lond ȝif me he schold
Euermore to haue & hold fre,
& ȝiue me his douȝter briȝt o ble,
Þe miriest may on mold:
When ichaue þe sleyn þis day
He schal ȝiue me þat fair may
Wiþ alle his lond to hold.
123
Ac do now wele & vnarme þe,& trewelich ȝeld þou þe to me:
Oliue y lat þe gon.
& ȝif þou wilt nouȝt do bi mi red
Þou schalt dye on iuel ded:
Riȝt now y schal þe slon.’
‘Nay,’ seyd Gij, ‘þat war no lawe:
Ich hadde leuer to ben to-drawe
Þan swiche a dede to don.
478
Ich hadde leuer an-hanged be,
& brent boþe flesche & bon.’
124
Þan seyd Amoraunt, ‘at a word,Bi þe treuþe þou owe þi lord,
Þat þou louest so dere,
Tel me what þi name it be,
& leue to drink ȝiue y þe
Þi fille of þis riuer.
Þou seyd þi name is sir Youn:
It is nouȝt so, bi seyn Mahoun,
It is a lesing, fere.
Ȝif þi name were Youn riȝt
Þou nere nouȝt of so miche miȝt,
No þus vnbiknowen here.’
125
‘Frende,’ seyd Gij, ‘y schal telle þe:Astow art hendi man & fre,
Þou wray me to no wiȝt.
Gij of Warwike mi name it is:
In Inglond y was born, y-wis.
Lete me now drink wiþ riȝt.’
When Amoraunt seye, sikerly,
Þat it was þe gode Gij
Þat oȝaines him was diȝt,
He loked on him wiþ michel wrake
Sternliche wiþ his eyȝen blake,
Wiþ an vnsemli siȝt.
126
‘Sir Gij,’ he seyd, ‘welcom to me!Mahoun, mi lord, y thank þe
Þat ich haue þe her-inne.
Michel schame þou hast me don:
Þi liif þou schalt astite forgon,
Þi bodi schal atvinne,
480
Mi leman schal haue to presaunt,
Þat comly is of kinne.
Hennes-forward, siker þou be,
Leue no tit þe non of me,
For al þis warld to winne.’
127
‘Allas,’ seyd Gij, ‘what schal y don?Now y no may haue drink non
Mine hert brekeþ ato.’
Anon he biþouȝt him þenne
Riȝt to þe riuer he most renne:
He turned him, & gan to go.
Amoraunt wiþ swerd on hond
He thouȝt haue driuen Gij to schond:
Wiþ sorwe he wald him slo.
Gij ran to þe water riȝt:
Bot on him þenke god almiȝt
Vp comeþ he neuer mo.
128
Þo was sir Gij in gret drede.In þe water he stode to his girdel stede,
& þat þouȝt him ful gode.
In þe water he dept his heued anon,
Ouer þe schulders he dede it gon;
Þat keled wele his blod.
& when Gij hadde dronken anouȝ
Hetelich his heued vp he drouȝ
Out of þat ich flod;
& Amoraunt stode opon þe lond
With a drawen swerd in hond,
& smot Gij þer he stode.
129
Hetelich he smot Gyoun:Into þat water he fel adoun
Wiþ þat dint vnride,
482
Sir Gij stirt vp in gret dout:
For noþing he nold abide,
& schoke his heued as kniȝt bold.
‘In þis water icham ful cold
Wombe, rigge, & side,
& no leue, sir, ich hadde of þe,
& þer-fore haue þo[u] miche maugre,
& iuel þe mot bi-tide.’
130
Sir Gij stirt vp, wiþouten fayl,& Amoraunt he gan to asayl:
To fiȝt he was ful boun.
Hard togider þai gan to fiȝt:
Of loue was þer no speche, y pliȝt,
Bot heweing wiþ swerdes broun.
‘Amoraunt,’ þan seyd Gij,
‘Þou art ful fals, sikerly,
& ful-filt of tresoun.
No more wil y trust to þe
For no bihest þou hotest me:
Þou art a fals glotoun.’
131
Hard togider þai gun fiȝt:Fro þe morwe to þe niȝt
Þat long somers day,
So long þai fouȝten boþe þo.
Wiche was þe better of hem to
Noman chese no may.
Bot at a strok as Amoraunt cast,
Sir Gij mett wiþ him in hast,
& tauȝt him a sori play:
Þe riȝt arme wiþ þe swerd fot hot
Bi þe scholder of he it smot,
To grounde it fleye oway.
132
When Amoraunt feld him to smiteIn his left hond wiþ michel hete
Þe swerd he hent fot hot:
484
Þritti sautes he made & þre
Wiþ his swerd, þat wel bot;
Bot for þe blod þat of him ran
Amoraunt strengþe slake bigan.
When Gij þat soþ wot,
Þat Amoraunt was faynting,
Sir Gij him folwed wiþouten dueling:
Þat oþer hond of he smot.
133
When Amoraunt had boþe hondes forloreA wreche he held him-self þerfore:
His wit was alto-dreued.
On sir Gij he lepe wiþ alle his miȝt,
Þat almast he had feld him doun riȝt,
& sir Gij was agreued,
& stirt bisiden fot hot,
& Amoraunt in þe nek he smot:
His miȝt he haþ him bireued.
He fel to grounde, wiþouten faile,
& sir Gij vnlaced his ventayle,
& he strok of his heued.
134
Ouer þe water he went in a bot,& present þer-wiþ fot hot
Þe king, sir Triamour.
Þe king, sir Triamour, þan
Went to þat riche Soudan,
& also his sone Fabour.
Þan was þe Soudan swiþe wo:
Quite-claim he lete hem go
Wiþ wel michel honour.
486
& ladde wiþ hem sir Gij þe fre,
Þat hadde ben her socour.
135
Þe king tok þerl Ionas þo,& clept him in his armes to,
& kist him swete, ich wene,
An hundred times & ȝete mo,
& quite-claim he lete him go
& his sones fiftene.
‘Erl Ionas,’ seyd þe king,
‘Herken now to my teling,
& what ichil mene:
For mi liif þou sauedest me,
Half mi lond ich graunt þe
Wiþ þis kniȝt strong & kene.
136
Vnderstond to me, sir kniȝt:Mahoun ȝaue ful of miȝt
Þou wost duelle wiþ me!
Þridde part mi lond y ȝiue þe to:
Michel honour ichil þe do,
A riche prince make þe.
Y nil nouȝt þou forsake god þine:
Þou art bileueand wele afine
Better may no be.’
Sir Gij answerd him ful stille,
‘Sir, of þi lond nouȝt y nille,
For-soþe y telle þe.’
137
Þat erl to Ierusalem went anon,Gij of Warwike wiþ him gan gon
& alle his sones on rawe.
Þerl wold ȝif he miȝt
Wite þe name of þat kniȝt,
Ȝif he him euer-more sawe.
In conseyl, ‘sir kniȝt,’ þan seyd he,
‘Þat þou Youn dost clep þe,
Þou no hatest nouȝt so, y trowe.
488
Þat died on þe rode tre,
Þi riȝt name be aknawe.’
138
Sir Gij seyd, ‘þou schalt now here,Seþþen þou frainest me in þis maner:
Mi name ichil þe sayn.
Gij of Warwike mi name is riȝt.
Astow art hende & gentil kniȝt,
To non þou schalt me wrayn.
Batayl for þi loue y nam,
& þe geaunt ouer-cam;
Þerof icham ful fain.’
When þerl seye it was sir Gij
He fel doun on knes him bi,
& wepe wiþ boþ his ayn.
139
‘For godes loue,’ he seyd, ‘merci!Whi artow so pouer, sir Gij,
& art of so gret valour?
Here ich ȝiue þe in þis place
Al þerldam of Durras,
Cite & castel tour:
Þi man ichil bicomen & be,
& alle mi sones forþ wiþ me
Schal com to þi socour;
For þe priis of heþen lond
Þou hast þurch douhtines of hond
Wonne wiþ gret vigour.’
490
140
‘Erl Ionas,’ þan seyd sir Gij,‘Mi leue frende, gramerci
For þi gode wille!
Þan schustow hire me al to dere
To ȝiue me þi lond in swiche manere;
Þer-of nouȝt y nille.
To ȝour owen cuntre wendeþ hom:
God biteche y ȝou euerichon.
Mi way ichil ful-fille.’
Þan went & kist him eueri man:
Þerl so sore wepe bigan,
Þat miȝt him no man stille.
141
Þerl to Durras went anon& his sones euerichon,
Were scaped out of care.
Gij þan in his way is nome:
For þat þe geaunt was ouer-come,
Ful bliþe þan was he þare.
Into Grece þan went he,
& souȝt halwen of þat cuntre,
Þe best þat þer ware.
Seþþe forþ in his way he ȝede
Þurch-out mani vncouþe þede:
To Costentyn he is y-fare.
502
142
When Gij in Costentin hadde beOut of þat lond þan went he,
Walkand in þe strete
On pilgrimage in his iurnay,
His bedes bidand niȝt & day,
His sinnes for to bete.
In Almaine þan went he, y-wis,
Þer he was sumtime holden of gret pris.
He com to a four way lete
Biȝonde Espire, þat riche cite:
Under a croice, was maked of tre,
A pilgrim he gan mete,
143
Þat wrong his honden, & wepe sore,& curssed þe time þat he was bore:
‘Allas,’ it was his song.
‘Wayleway,’ he seyd, ‘that stounde!
Wickedliche icham brouȝt to grounde
Wiþ wel michel wrong.’
Sir Gij went to him þo:
‘Man,’ he seys, ‘whi farstow so?
So god ȝeue þe ioie to fong,
Tel me what þi name it be,
& whi þou makest þus gret pite:
Meþenke þi paynes strong.’
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