 | Guy of Warwick |  |
86
He was wroþ, ȝe may wele wite;
Gwichard he wald fond to smite
Wiþ his swerd þat wold wele bite;
To him he smot swiþe smert
Þurch þe bodi ful ney þe hert:
Þat gode swerd þurchim þrang,
Gwichard wald abide nouȝt lang;
He turned his stede & gan to fle,
& Gij after him, bi mi leute.
Gode was þe hors þat Gwichard rod on,
& so fast his stede gan gon,
Þat Gij miȝt him nouȝt atake,
Þer-fore he gan sorwe make.
Gwichard fleye in his way
Toward Paui, so swiþe he may.
Þe douk Otous fram hunting com,
& with him erles mani on;
A kniȝt he seye cum prikeing,
His armes to-rent, his woundes bledeing.
Þe douk Otous duelled aþrowe,
What he hadde Gwichard y-knowe:
Wele he semed man aferd,
Þat hard tiding hadde y-herd.
Wiþ þat is Gwichard to him come;
Þe douke him oxed atte frome,
‘Gwichard, who haþ wretþed þe,
& where hastow in bateyle be?
| Guy of Warwick | |