 | Guy of Warwick |  |
281
Þe leuedi biheld him inliche,Hou mesays he was, sikerliche.
Curteys sche was & hende:
Of euerich mete, of euerich d[r]ing
Þat sche ete of herself, wiþouten lesing,
Sche was him ful mende;
Of hir bere & of hir wine
In hir gold coupe afine
Oft sche gan him sende,
& bad him ich day com he schold:
Mete & drink sche finde him wold
Vnto his liues ende.
612
282
Sir [Gij] þonked þat leuedi oft,Bot alle anoþer was his þouȝt
Þan he wald to hir say.
When þe grace were y-seyd,
& þe bordes adoun layd,
Out of toun he went his way.
Into a forest wenden he gan
To an hermite he knewe er þan,
To speke him ȝif he may.
&, when he þider comen was,
Þe gode hermite þurch godes grace
Was dede & loken in clay.
283
Þan þouȝt sir Gij anonÞat wald he neuer þennes gon
Þer whiles he war oliue.
Wiþ a prest he spac of þat cuntray
Þat dede him seruise ich day,
& of his sinnes gan schriue.
Wiþ him he hadde þer a page
Þat serued him in þat hermitage
Wiþouten chest & striue.
No lenger was he liues þere
Bot niȝen moneþes of a ȝere,
As ȝe may listen & liþe.
284
In slepe as Gij lay aniȝt,God sent an angel briȝt
Fram heuen to him þare.
‘Gij,’ seyd þe angel, ‘slepestow?
Hider me sent þe king Iesu
To bid þe make þe ȝare;
For bi þe eiȝtenday at morwe
He schal deliuer þe out of þi sorwe,
Out of þis warld to fare.
To heuen þou schalt com him to,
& liue wiþ ous euer-mo
In ioie wiþouten care.’
614
285
When Gij was waked of þat drem,Of an angel he seiȝe a glem:
‘What artow?’ þan seyd he.
Þe angel answerd, ‘fram heuen y cam:
Miȝhel is mi riȝt nam.
God sent me to þe
To bid þe make þe redi way:
Bi þe eiȝtenday þou schalt day,
Wel siker mauȝtow be.
& y schal feche þi soule ful euen,
& bere it to þe þlis of heuen
Wiþ grete solempnete.’
286
Þe angel goþ forþ, & Gij bileft stille:His bedes he bad wiþ gode wille
To Iesu heuen king,
& when his term was nere gon
His knaue he cleped to him anon,
& seyd, wiþouten lesing,
‘Sone,’ he seyd, ‘y pray now þe,
Go to Warwike þat cite
Wiþ-outen more duelling,
& when þou comest þer, y þe biseche,
Gret wele þe countas wiþ þi speche,
& take hir þis gold ring.
287
& say þe pilgrim hat hir biforn,Þat hir mete was to born,
On þe pouer mannes rawe,
Gret hir wele in al þing,
& sende to hir þis gold ring,
Ȝif þat sche wil it knawe.
Als son as sche haþ þer-of a siȝt,
Sche wil it knawe anon riȝt,
& be þerof ful fawe.
Þan wil sche ax ware y be:
Leue sone, for loue of me
Þe soþe to hir þou schawe,
616
288
& say icham for godes loueIn þe forest hermite bicome,
Mine sinnes for to bete,
& bid hir for þe loue of me
Þat sche com hider wiþ þe:
For no þing sche no lete.
& when ȝe com ȝe finde me dede:
Do me neuer hennes lede,
Bot graue me here in grete.
& after sche schal dye, y-wis,
& com to me in-to heuen blis,
Þer ioies her ful swete.’
289
Þe knaue went forþ anon,In-to Warwike he gan gon
Bifor þat leuedi fre,
&, when he hadde þat leuedi founde,
On knes he fel adoun to grounde,
& seyd, ‘listen to me:
Þe pilgrim þat ete þe biforn,
Þat þi mete was to born,
An hermite now is he.
He greteþ þe wele in al þing,
& sent þe þis gold ring
In sum tokening to be.’
290
Þe leuedi tok þat ring anhond,& loked þeron & gan wiþstond,
Þe letters for to rede.
‘Ow, certes,’ quaþ þe leuedi,
‘Þis ring y ȝaf mi lord sir Gij,
When he fro me ȝede.’
618
& when þat sche arisen is
To þe knaue sche gan spede.
‘Leue sone,’ sche seyd, ‘y pray þe,
Wher is þat pilgrim? telle þou me,
& gold schal be þi mede.’
291
‘Madame,’ seyd þe knaue ful skete,‘In þe forest ichim lete:
Riȝt now y com him fro.
He is ner ded in þe hermitage:
On his halue y make þe message;
Y-wis, he bad me so,
& bad þou schust to him come
For þat ich trewe loue
Þat was bitvene ȝou tvo.
Do him neuer lede oway,
Bot biri him riȝt þer in clay.
Oliue sestow him no mo.’
292
Þe leuedi was glad of þat tiding,& þonked Iesu heuen king,
& was in hert ful bliþe
Þat sche schuld sen hir lord sir Gij;
Ac for o þing sche was sori,
Þat he schuld dye so swiþe.
Þai made hem redi for to wende
Wiþ kniȝtes & wiþ leuedis hende:
On a mule þai sett hir siþe,
& wiþ al þe best of þat cite
To þermitage went sche,
As ȝe may listen & liþe.
293
To þermitage when þai com,Þer þai liȝt al & some,
& in sche went wel euen.
When þat sche seiȝe hir lord sir Gij,
Sche wept & made doleful cri
Wiþ a ful reweful steuen.
620
His soule fram þe bodi gan fare.
A þousand angels & seuen
Vnder-fenge þe soule of Gij,
& bar it wiþ gret molodi
Into þe blis of heuen.
294
Þan was þat leuedi ful of care,For hir lord was fram hir fare:
‘Allas’ it was hir song.
Sche kist his mouþe, his chin also,
& wepe wiþ hir eiȝen to,
& hir hondes sche wrong.
Gret honour dede our lord for Gij:
A swete braþe com fram his bodi,
Þat last þat day so long,
Þat in þis world spices alle
No miȝt cast a swetter smalle
As þen was hem among.
295
Þe leudy astite dede send hir sondAfter bischopes, abotes of þe lond,
Þe best þat miȝt be founde,
&, when þider was com þat fair ferred,
To Warwike þai wald him lede,
As lord of michel mounde.
Bot al þe folk þat þer was
622
Þer he lay on þe grounde.
An hundred men about him were,
No miȝt him nouȝt þennes bere
For heuihed þat stounde.
624
296
Þan seyd þe leuedi, ‘lete him be stille,Neuer more remoun him y nille,
No do him hennes lede.
He sent me bode wiþ his page
To biri him in þis hermitage
Simpliche wiþouten prede.’
Þay tok a þrouȝ of marbel ston,
& leyd his bodi þer-in anon
Atird in kniȝtes wede.
Fair seruise þan was þare
Of bischopes, abbotes þat þer ware,
& clerkes to sing & rede.
297
When þai hadde birid his bodi, anonÞe gret lordinges euerichon
Hom þai gun wende,
Ac þe leuedi left stille þare:
Sche nold neuer þennes fare;
Sche kidde þat sche was kende.
Sche liued no lenger, soþe to say,
626
Sche dyed þat leuedi hende,
& was birid hir lord by;
& now þai er togider in compeynie
In ioie þat neuer schal ende.
| Guy of Warwick | |