 | Guy of Warwick |  |
144
‘Godeman,’ seyd þe pilgrim þo,‘What hastow to frein me so?
Swiche sorwe icham in souȝt,
Þat, þei y told þe alle mi care,
For þe miȝt y neuer þe better fare:
To grounde icham so brouȝt.’
‘Ȝis,’ seyd Gij, ‘bi þe gode rode,
Conseyl y can ȝiue þe gode,
& tow telle me þi þouȝt;
504
Þat gode conseyle ȝiue can.
Þerfore hele it nouȝt.’
145
‘For god,’ he seyd, ‘þou seyst ful wel.Sumtime ich was, by seyn Miȝhel,
An erl of gret pouste.
Þurch al cristendom, y-wis,
Ich was teld a man of gret pris
& of gret bounte,
& now icham a wroche beggare:
No wonder þei icham ful of care.
Allas, wel wo is me!’
For sorwe he miȝt speke na more:
He gan to wepe swiþe sare,
Þat Gij hadde of him pite.
146
Þan seyd þe pilgrim, ‘þou hast gret wrongTo frain me of mi sorwe strong,
& miȝt noȝt bete mi nede.
To begge mi brede y mot gon:
Seþþen ȝistay at none ete y non,
Also god me rede.’
506
Telle me whi þou art in sorwe brauȝt:
Þe better þou schalt spede;
& seþþen we schul go seche our mete.
Ichaue a pani of old biȝete:
Þou schalt haue half to mede.’
147
‘Gramerci, sir,’ þan seyd he;‘& alle þe soþ y schal telle þe.
Erl Tirri is mi name,
Of Gormoys þerls sone Aubri.
Ich hadde a felawe þat hiȝt Gij,
A baroun of gode fame.
For þe douk of Paui sir Otoun
Hadde don him oft gret tresoun,
He slouȝ him wiþ gret grame.
Now is his neue þemperour steward,
His soster sone, þat hat Berard:
He has me don alle þis schame.
508
148
Þemperour he haþ serued long.For he is wonderliche strong
& of michel miȝt,
He no comeþ in non batayle
Þat he no haþ þe maistri, saunfayl:
So egre he is to fiȝt.
In þis warld is man non
Þat oȝaines him durst gon,
Herl, baroun, no kniȝt,
& he loked on him wiþ wrake,
Þat his hert no miȝt quake:
So stern he is of siȝt.
510
149
& for his scherewdhed sir BerardÞemperour haþ made him his steward,
To wardi his lond about.
Þer nis no douk in al þis lond
Þat his hest dar wiþ-stonde:
So michel he is dout.
Ȝif a man be loued wiþ him,
Be he neuer so pouer of kin,
& he wil to him lout,
He makeþ hem riche anon riȝt,
Douk, erl, baroun, or kniȝt,
To held wiþ him gret rout.
150
& ȝif a man wiþ him hated be,Be he neuer so riche of fe,
He flemeþ him out of lond:
Anon he schal ben to-drawe,
Als tite he schal ben y-slawe,
& driuen him al to schond.
So it bifel, our emperour
Held a parlement of gret honour:
For his erls he sent his sond.
Y come þider wiþ michel prede
Wiþ an hundred kniȝtes bi mi side,
At nede wiþ me to stonde.
151
& when y come vnto þe courtÞe steward, þe wicked pourt,
To me he gan to reke:
He bicleped me of his emes ded,
& seyd he was sleyn þurch mi red:
On me he wald be wreke.
&, when ich herd þat chesoun
Of þe doukes deþ Otoun,
Mine hert wald to-breke.
To þemperour y layd mi wedde an heiȝe
512
Þat he to me gan speke.
152
No wonder þei y war fordredde.Þemperour tok boþe our wedde,
As y þe telle may.
For in alle þe court was þer no wiȝt,
Douk, erl, baroun, no kniȝt,
Þat durst me borwe þat day,
Þemperour comand anon
Into his prisoun y schuld be don
Wiþ-outen more delay.
Berard went, & sesed mi lond;
Mine wiif he wald haue driuen to schond:
Wiþ sorwe sche fled oway.
153
Þan was ich wiþ sorwe & careAmong min fomen nomen þare,
& don in strong prisoun.
Min frendes token hem to rede,
To þemperour þai bisouȝt & bede
To pay for me ransoun.
Þemperour & sir Berard
Deliuerd me bi a forward
& bi þis enchesoun,
Y schuld seche mi felawe Gij,
To defende ous of þat felonie
Of þe doukes deþ Otoun.
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154
Out of þis lond went y me,& passed ouer þe salt se:
In Inglond y gan riue.
At Warwike ichim souȝt:
When y com þider y fond him nouȝt
(Wo was me oliue),
No sir Herhaud fond y nouȝt tare:
To seche Gyes sone he is fare,
Þat was stollen wiþ striue.
Þerfore y wot þat Gij is ded:
For sorwe can y me no red;
Mine hert wil breke o fiue.’
| Guy of Warwick | |