 | Guy of Warwick |  |
155
Sir Gij biheld Tirri ful riȝt,Þat whilom was so noble a kniȝt,
& lord of michel mounde.
His bodi, was sumtim wele y-schredde,
Almost naked it was bihedde,
Wiþ sorwe & care ful bounde.
516
To-brosten he seiȝe hem eueridel.
‘Allas,’ seyd Gij, ‘þat stonde.’
For sorwe þat he hadde þo
Word miȝt he speke no mo,
Bot fel aswon to grounde.
156
Sir Tirri anon com to him þan,& in his armes vp him nam,
& cleped opon him þare.
‘Man,’ he said, ‘what aileþ þe?
Þou art iuel at aise, so þenkeþ me.
Hard it is þi fare.’
Sir Gij answerd þer-after long,
‘Þis iuel greueþ me so strong,
In erþe y wold y ware;
For, seþþen þat y was first man,
Nas neuer sorwe on me cam
Þat greued me so sare.’
157
Þan seyd Tirri, ‘felawe, y-wis,To-day a ȝer gon it is
Out of þis lond y went
To seche Gij, mi gode frende,
Y no finde nouȝt fer no hende:
Þerfore icham al schent;
For now it is teld me our emperer
Haþ taken a parlement of þis maner
For mi loue, verrament,
Þat douk no erl in his lond be,
Þat he no schal be at þat semble,
For to here mi iugement.
158
& now no lenge abide y no may,Þat ne me bi-houeþ hom þis day,
Oþer for to lese min hed.
Þemperour ichaue mi treuþe y-pliȝt,
Y schal bring sir Gij to-niȝt
To fiȝt oȝain þat qued,
518
Oȝain þe douke Berard of Paui
Al of his emes ded.
Y wot wele, ȝif y þider fare,
Þai schal me sle wiþ sorwe & care:
Certes, y can no red.’
| Guy of Warwick | |