 | Guy of Warwick |  |
159
Gij biheld Tirri wiþ wepeand eiȝe,& seiȝe him al þat sorwe dreiȝe,
Þat was him lef & dere:
‘Allas,’ þouȝt Gij, ‘þat ich stounde
Þat Tirri is þus brouȝt to grounde!
So gode felawes we were.’
He þouȝt, ‘miȝt y mete þat douke,
His heued y schuld smite fro þe bouke,
Or hong him bi þe swere.
Y no lete for al þis warldes won
Þat y no schuld þe traitour slon,
To wreke Tirri, mi fere.
160
Tirri,’ seyd Gij, ‘lat be þi þouȝt:Y-wis, it helpeþ þe riȝt nouȝt,
For sorwe it wil þe schende.
To court go we boþe y-fere:
Gode tidinges we schul þer here;
Swiche grace god may sende.
Haue gode hert, dred þe no del;
For god schal help þe ful wel:
So curteys he is & hende.’
Up risen þo kniȝtes tvo
Wiþ michel care & ful of wo:
To court ward þai gan wende.
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161
& as þai went þo kniȝtes freTo court ward in her iurne
Ful bold þai were & ȝepe.
‘Allas,’ sir Tirri seyd þo,
‘Ich mot rest er ich hennes go,
Or mi liif wil fro me lepe.’
‘For god, felawe,’ þan seyd Gij,
‘Ly doun, & y schal sitt þe bi,
& feir þine heued vp kepe.’
& when he hadde þus y-seyd
On Gyes barm his heued he leyd:
Anon Tirri gan slepe.
162
& when sir Tirri was fallen on slepeSir Gij biheld him, & gan to wepe,
& gret morning gan make.
Þan seiȝe he an ermine com of his mouþe
Als swift als winde, þat bloweþ on clouþe,
As white as lilii on lake.
To an hille he ran wiþouten obade:
At þe hole of þe roche in he glade.
Gij wonderd for þat sake.
& when he out of þat roche cam
Into Tirries mouþe he nam:
Anon Tirri gan wake.
163
Sir Gij was wonderd of þat siȝt,& Tirri sat vp anon riȝt,
& biheld Gij opon.
Þan seyd Tirri, ‘fader of heuen!
Sir pilgrim, swiche a wonder sweuen
Me met now anon,
Þat to ȝon hille þat stont on heiȝe,
Þat þou may se wiþ þi neiȝe,
Me þouȝt þat y was gon,
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& so riche tresour as y fond
Y trow in þis world is non.
164
Biside þat tresour lay a dragoun,& þer-on lay a swerd broun,
Þe sckauberk comly corn:
In þe hilt was mani precious ston,
As briȝt as ani sonne it schon,
Wiþ-outen oþ y-sworn.
& me þouȝt Gij sat at min heued,
& in his lappe me biweued
Astow dest me biforn.
Lord, merci, & it wer so
Wele were me þan bi-go,
Þat euer ȝete was y born.’
165
‘Now, felawe,’ seyd Gij, ‘bi mi leute,Þat s[w]euen wil turn gret ioie to þe,
& wele y schal it rede:
Þurch Gij þou schalt þi lond keuer.
Trust wele to god, þei þou be pouer:
Þe better þou schalt spede.
To þe hulle nim we þe way,
Þer þe þouȝt þe tresour lay,
& in þou schalt me lede.
Now god, þat schope al mankinde,
Wald we miȝt þat tresour finde:
It wald help ous at nede.’
166
Vp risen þo kniȝtes tvay,& to þe hille þai nom þe way,
& in þai went ful euen,
& founde þe tresour, & þe dragoun,
& þe swerd of stiel broun,
As Tirri met in his sweuen.
Sir Gij drouȝ out þat swerd anon,
& alle þe pleynes þer-of it schon,
As it were liȝt of leuen.
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Y seiȝe neuer are swiche a brond;
Y wot it com fram heuen.’
167
Sir Gij gan þe hilt bi-hold,Þat richeliche was grauen wiþ gold,
Of charbukel þe pomel.
Into þe sckaweberk oȝain he it dede,
& seyd to Tirri in þat stede,
‘Bi god & seyn Miȝhel,
Of alle þis riche tresore
Y no kepe þerof no more,
Bot þis brond of stiel.’
168
To courtward þo kniȝtes went:To aspie after þe parlement
For drede wald þai nouȝt lete.
Ac Tirri was aferd ful sare
Of his fomen be knowen þare,
In þe cite ȝif he sete;
Þerfore þai toke her ostel gode
At an hous wiþouten þe toun stode
Al bi a dern strete.
Of al niȝt Gij slepe nouȝt:
So michel his hert was euer in þouȝt
Wiþ douk Berard to mete.
169
Erlich amorwe þan ros Gij,& bisouȝt god & our leuedi
He schuld scheld him fro blame,
& seyd to sir Tirri þe hende,
‘Kepe me wele þis swerd, leue frende,
Til y sende þer-fore, bi name,
& y schal go to court þis day,
& ȝif y þe douke mete may
Y schal gret him wiþ grame,
& ȝif he say ouȝt bot gode
526
Him tit a warld schame.’
170
Gij goþ to toun wiþ michel hete:Þemperour fram chirche he gan mete,
& gret him wiþ anour.
‘Lord’ seyd Gij, ‘þat wiþ hond
Made wode, water, & lond,
Saue þe, sir emperour.
Icham a man of fer cuntre,
& of þi gode par charite
Ich axse to mi socour.’
Þemperour seyd, ‘to court come,
& of mi gode þou schalt haue some
For loue of seyn sauour.’
171
To court þai went al & some.Þemperour dede Gij biforn him come:
‘Pilgrim,’ þan seyd he,
‘Þou art wel weri meþenkeþ now:
Fram wiche londes comestow?
For þi fader soule, telle me.’
‘Sir,’ seyd Gij, ‘ich vnderstond,
Ichaue ben in mani lond
Biȝond þe Grekis se:
In Ierusalem & in Surry,
In Costentin & in Perci
A gode while haue ich be.’
172
‘Sir pilgrim,’ seyd þemperour fre,‘What spekeþ man in þat lond of me
When þou com þennes ward?’
Sir Gij answerd, ‘bi þe gode rode,
Men spekeþ þe þer ful litel gode,
Bot tidinges schrewed & hard;
For þou hast schent so þerl Tirri
& oþer barouns, þat ben hendy,
For loue of þi steward.
Gret sinne it is to þe
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Al for a fals schreward.’
173
When þe douk herd him speke so,As a wilde bore he lepe him to,
His costes for to schawe.
Wiþ his fest he wald haue smiten Gij,
Bot barouns held him owy
Wele tventi on a rawe.
He seyd to Gij, ‘vile traitour,
Ner þou bifor þemperour,
Þei y wende to ben to-hewe,
Bi thi berd y schuld þe schokke,
Þat al þi teþ it schuld rokke;
For þou art a kinde schrewe.
174
Bi þi semblaunt se men mayÞou hast ben traitour mani a day:
God ȝif þe schame & schond.
Ȝif þat y þe mai ouergon,
To wicked ded þou schalt be don,
As a traitour to ly in bond:
In swiche a stede þou schalt be,
Þis seuen winter no schaltow se
Noiþer fet no hond.
So schal men chasti foule glotuns
Þat wil missay gode barouns
Þat lordinges ben in lond.’
175
‘Ow sir,’ seyd Gij, ‘ertow þas?Y nist no nar ho it was,
Bi þe gode rode,
& now y wot þat þou art he:
Þou art vncurteys, so þenkeþ me.
Þou farst astow wer wode,
& art a man of fair parage:
Y-com þou art of heiȝe linage
& of gentil blod.
It is þe litel curteysie
530
Bifor þemperour þer y stode.
176
& for þe wil y wond no-þing:Y schal telle þe þe soþe wiþouten lesing
Bifor his barouns ichon,
Þat wiþ gret wrong & sinne, ywis,
Þerl Tirri deshirrite is
& oþer gode mani on.
A þousend men ichaue herd teld
Boþe in toun & in feld,
As wide as ichaue gon,
Þat he is giltles of þat dede:
Þou berst on him wiþ falshede
Þi neme he schuld slon.’
177
Þe douk Berra[r]d was wroþ,Bi Iesu Crist he swore his oþ,
‘Y wald þat þou were Gij,
Or þat þou so douhti were
Þou durst fiȝt for him here:
God ȝaf it & our leuedi!’
Sir Gij answerd, ‘bi seyn sauour,
Drede þe noþing, vile traitour:
Þerto icham redy.
Bi þou wroþ, be þou gladde,
To þemperour y ȝif mi wedde
To fiȝt for þerl Tirri.’
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178
Þe douk Berard þer he stodeStared on Gij as he wer wode,
& egrelich seyd his þouȝt.
‘Pilgrim,’ he seyd, ‘þou art ful stout:
Y-wis, þi wordes þat er so prout
Schal be ful dere abouȝt.
Y warn þe wele,’ he seyd þo,
‘Þat þine heued þou schalt forgo,
Where so þou may be souȝt.’
Sir Gij seyd, ‘þan þou it hast,
Þan make þer-of þi bast;
For ȝete no getes þou it nouȝt.’
179
Bifor þemperour þan come Gij,& seyd, ‘sir Berard of Paui
Is a man of miȝti dede,
& fram fer cuntres comen icham,
& am a sely pouer man:
Y no haue here no sibbered,
No y no haue wepen no armour briȝt.
For þe loue of god al-miȝt,
Finde me armour & stede.’
Þemperour answerd, ‘bi Iesu,
Pilgrim, þou schalt haue anow
Of al þat þe is nede.’
180
Þe douk Berra[r]d þennes he went:His hert was in strong turment,
He no wist what he do miȝt.
Þemperour cleped his douhter, a mayde:
‘Leue douhter,’ to hir he seyd,
‘Kepe þis pilgrim to-niȝt.’
Sche him vnderfenge ful mildeliche,
& dede baþe him ful softliche:
In silke sche wald him diȝt,
534
Bot of gode armour he hir bisouȝt,
Wiþ þe douke Berard to fiȝt.
181
Amorwe aros þat emperour:Erls, barouns of gret honour
To chirche wiþ him þai ȝede,
& when þe barouns asembled was
Þan miȝt men sen in þat plas
To-gider a fair ferred.
Þider com þe douk Berard
Prout & stern as a lipard,
Wele y-armed on stede,
& priked riȝt as he wer wode
Among þe barouns þer þai stode,
Batayle for to bede.
182
Þe maiden forȝat neuer a del,Þe pilgrim was armed ful wel
Wiþ a gode glaiue in honde,
& a swift ernand stede
Al wrin sche dede him lede,
Þe best of þat lond.
Þat sir Gij him bi-þouȝt,
Þe gode swerd forȝat he nouȝt
Þat he in tresour fond.
He sent þerafter priueliche
(Noman wist litel no miche),
& Tirri sent him þe brond.
183
When þat mayden hadde graiþed Gij,Wele y-diȝt & ful richely,
Men gan on him biheld.
536
To þemperour wiþ gode wille:
Sche tauȝt him for to weld.
Þan seyd þemperour hende & fre,
‘Lordinges, listen now to me,
Boþe ȝong & eld.
Þis kniȝt, þat ȝe se now here,
Haþ taken batail in strong maner,
Al for to fiȝt in feld.
184
Þis kniȝt,’ he seyd, ‘þat ston[t] me bi,Wil fiȝt for þerl sir Tirri
(For no þing wil he wond),
& defende him of þat felonie
Oȝain þe douk Berard of Paui
Þat he berþ him an hond;
For Tirri is out of lond went
To seche Gij, verrament,
Þat for him miȝt stond
(Þis day is sett bitven hem tvo),
Or be deshirrite for euer-mo,
& flemed out of lond.
185
Bot now is comen here þis kniȝt,Oȝain Berard haþ taken þe fiȝt:
For no þing wil he flen.
Ac, lordinges,’ he seyd, ‘euerichon,
Where the batayl schal be don
Loke, where it may best ben.’
Þan loked þai it schuld be
In a launde vnder þe cite.
Þider in þai went bi-den:
538
Help þe pilgrim, as he wele may,
Þe douk Berard to slen.
186
On hors lopen þo kniȝtes prest,& lopen to-gider til schaftes brest,
Þat strong weren & trewe,
& her gerþes brusten, þat strong were,
& þo kniȝtes boþe y-fere
Out of her sadels þrewe.
After þai drouȝ her swerdes gode,
& leyd on as þai were wode,
Þat were gode & newe;
& astow sest þe fir on flint
Þe stem out of her helmes stint
So hetelich þai gun hewe.
187
Wele wer armed þo kniȝtes stout,Bot he had more yren him about
Þat fals Berardine:
Tvay hauberkes he was in weued,
& tvay helmes opon his heued,
Was wrouȝt in Sarazine.
Opon his schulder henge a duble scheld
(Better miȝt non be born in feld),
A gode swerd of stiel fine:
Mani man þerwiþ his liif had lorn.
It was sumtim þer-biforn
Þe kinges Costentine.
188
Strong batayl held þo kniȝtes bold,Þat alle þat euer gan hem bihold
Þai seyden hem among
Þe pilgrim was non erþely man;
It was an angel, from heuen cam
For Tirri batayle to fong:
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Berard haþ y-brouȝt adoun
Wiþ wel michel wrong,
Þer-fore haþ God sent, y-wis,
An angel out of heuen blis
To sle þat traitour strong.’
189
Al þe folk in þat cite was,Litel & michel, more & las,
To se þe batayl þai ȝede;
Bot Tirri in a chirche liis,
& euer he bisouȝt god, y-wis,
He schuld him help & spede.
When he herd telle [þat a] pilgrim
Fauȝt oȝain þe douke Berardin,
To help him at his nede,
Wel fain he wald þider gon,
Bot for knoweing of his fon:
Wel sore he gan him drede.
190
Ac naþeles he ros vp þoWiþ michel care & michel wo,
& þider he went wel swiþe.
When he com to þe plas
Þer þe bataile loked was,
Amonges hem he gan liþe,
&, when he seyȝe the douk so strong
& his armes to-hewe among,
In his hert he was ful bliþe,
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God he þonked wiþ gode wille.
191
‘Lord, merci!’ Tirri gan say:‘Þis is nouȝt þe pilgrim y met ȝisterday
Þat is so richeliche diȝt.
He was a feble pouer body,
Sely, messays, & hungri;
& he is of michel miȝt.
Y trow non erþelich man it be.
On Gij y þenke when ichim se:
So douhti he was in fiȝt.
Ȝif Gij, mi felawe, nouȝt ded nere,
Ich wald sigge þat he it were:
So liche þai ben of siȝt.’
192
Into chirche oȝain he ȝede,& fel on knes in þat stede,
& Iesus Crist he bi-souȝt
He schuld help þe pilgrim
Þat fauȝt oȝain douk Berardin,
Þat miche wo haþ him wrouȝt.
Hard togider gun þai fiȝt
Fro the morwe to þe niȝt,
Þat þai rest hem nouȝt;
& when hem failed liȝt of day
Þai couþe no rede what þai do may:
To þemperour þai hem brouȝt.
193
‘Sir emperour,’ þai seyd anon,‘What schul we wiþ þis kniȝtes don?
At þi wille schal it be.’
Þemperour clept to him þo
Four barouns þat his trust was to.
‘Lordinges,’ þan seyd he,
‘Kepe me wele þe douk Berard,
& bring him tomorwe bi a forward,
Opon al ȝour fe.
544
Til tomorwe þat it is day liȝt
He schal bileue wiþ me.’
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