University of Virginia Library

Þe geaunt, þat ich spak of er,
Þe staf, þat he to fiȝte ber,
Was twenti fote in lengþe be tale,
Þar to gret & noþing smale;
To sire Beues a smot þer wiþ
A sterne strok wiþ outen griþ,
Ac a failede of his diuis
And in þe heued smot Trenchefis,
Þat ded to grounde fel þe stede.
‘O,’ queþ Beues, ‘so god me spede,
Þow hauest don gret vileinie,
Whan þow sparde me bodi
And for me gilt min hors aqueld,
Þow witest him, þat mai nouȝt weld.
Be god, i swere þe an oþ:
Þow schelt nouȝt, whan we te-goþ,
Lauȝande me wende fram,
Now þow hauest mad me gram!’
Beues is swerd anon vp swapte,
He and þe geaunt to-gedre rapte
And delde strokes mani & fale:
Þe nombre can i nouȝt telle in tale.
Þe geaunt vp is clobbe haf
And smot to Beues wiþ is staf,
Þat his scheld fleȝ fram him þore
Þre akres brede and sumdel more.
Þo was Beues in strong erur
And karf ato þe grete leuour
And on þe geauntes brest a wonde,
Þat neȝ a felde him to þe grounde.
Þe geaunt þouȝte þis bataile hard,
Anon he drouȝ to him a dart,
Þourȝ Beues scholder he hit schet,
Þe blod ran doun to Beues fet.
Þo Beues seȝ is owene blod,
Out of is wit he wex neȝ wod,
Vnto þe geaunt ful swiþe he ran
& kedde þat he was douȝti man,
And smot ato his nekke bon:
Þe geaunt fel to grounde anon.

Beues wente in at castel gate,
Þe leuedi a mette þer ate.
‘Dame!’ a seide, ‘go, ȝeue me mete,
Þat euer haue þow Cristes hete!’
Þe leuedi, sore adrad wiþ alle,
Ladde Beues in to þe halle,
And of eueriche sonde,
Þat him com to honde,
A dede hire ete al þer ferst,
Þat ȝhe ne dede him no berst,
And drinke ferst of þe win,
Þat no poisoun was þer in.
Whan Beues had le ete inouȝ,
A keuerchef to him a drouȝ
In þat ilche stounde,
To stope mide is wonde.
‘Dame, dame,’ Beues sede,
‘Let sadele me a gode stede,
For hennes ich wile ride,
I nel no lenger her abide!’
Þe leuedi seide, ȝhe wolde fawe;
A gode stede ȝhe let forþ drawe
And sadeled hit & wel adiȝt,
And Beues, þat hendi kniȝt,
Into þe sadel a lippte,
Þat no stirop he ne drippte.

Forþ him wente sire Beuoun,
Til he com wiþ oute þe toun
In to a grene mede.
‘Now, louerd Crist,’ a sede,
‘Ȝeue it, Brademond, þe king,
He and al is of-spring,
Wer riȝt her vpon þis grene:
Now ich wolde of me tene
Swiþe wel ben awreke,
Scholde he neuer go ne speke:
Now min honger is me aset,
Ne liste me neuer fiȝten bet!’