 | Sir Amadace and The Avowing of Arthur |  |
60
THE AVOWING OF ARTHUR
I
He þat made vs on þe mulde,And fair fourmet þe folde,
Atte his will as he wold;
The see and the sande;
Giffe hom joy þat will here
Of duȝti men, and of dere,
Of haldurs, þat before vs were,
Þat lifd in this londe.
One was Arther the kinge.
Withowtun any letting,
With him was mony lordinge
Hardi of honde;
Wite and war ofte þay were,
Bold vndur banere,
And wiȝte weppuns wold were,
And stifly wold stond.
II
Þis is no fantum, ne no fabull;Ȝe wote wele of þe rowuntabull
Of prest men and priueabull,
Was holdun in prise.
Cheuetan of chiualry,
Kyndenesse of curtesy,
Hunting full warly,
As wayt men and wise,
To þe forest þa[y] fare,
To hunte atte buk and atte bare,
To þe herte, and to þe hare,
Þat bredus in þe rise.
61
Þe hunter cummys on a day,
Sayd, “Sir, þer walkes in my way,
A well grim gryse!
III
He is a balefull bare,Secheon segh I neuyr are.
He hase wroȝte me mycull care,
And hurte of my howundes;
Slayn hom downe slely,
With feȝting full furcely.
Wasse þer none so hardi
Durste bide in his bandus.
On him spild I my spere,
And mycull of my nothir gere;
Þer mone no dintus him dere,
Ne wurche him no wowundes.
He is masly made,
All of fellus þat he bade,
Þer is no bulle so brade,
That in frithe foundes.
IV
He is heȝer þenne a horse,That vncumly corse;
In fayth, him faylis no force
Quen þat he schalle feȝte.
And þerto, blake as a bere,
Feye folke will be fere.
Þer may no dyntus him dere,
Ne him to dethe diȝte.
Quen he quettus his tusshes,
Thenne he betus on þe busshes;
All he riues and he russhes,
Þat þe rote is vnryȝte.
62
Quen he castus vppe his stuffe;
Quo durst abide him a buffe,
Iwisse he were wiȝte.”
V
He sais, “In Ingulwode is hee.”Þe toþer biddus, “Lette him bee;
We schall that satnace see,
Giffe þat he be þare.”
Þe king callut on knyȝtis thre;
Himseluun wold þe fuyrthe be.
He sayd, “Þere schalle no mo mene
Wynde to þe bore.”
Bothe Kay and Sir Gauan,
And Bowdewynne of Bretan,
Þe hunter and þe howundus squayn,
Hase ȝarket hom ȝare;
Þe kinge hase armut him in hie,
And þo thre biurnes him bie,
Now ar þay fawre all redie,
And furthe conne þay fare.
VI
Vnto þe forest þay weynde,Þat was hardy and heynde;
Þe hunter atte þe northe ende
His bugull con he blaw;
Vncoupult kenettis as he couthe;
Witturly þay soȝte þe southe,
Raches with opon mouthe,
Rennyng on a raw,
Funde fute of þe bore,
ffaste folutte to him thore
Quen þat he herd, he hade care;
To þe denne conne he draw.
63
With feȝting full fuyrsly;
But witte ȝe, sirs, witturly,
He stode butte litull awe.
VII
Þay held him fast in his hold;He brittunt bercelettus bold,
Bothe þe ȝunge and þe old,
And raste hom þe rest;
Þe raches comun rengnyng him by,
And bayet him full boldely,
Butte þer was non so hardy
Durste on þe fynde fast.
Þenne þe hunter sayd, “Lo him þare!
Ȝaw þar such him no mare;
Now may ȝe sone to him fare;
Lette see quo dose beste.
Ȝaw þar suche him neuyr more,
Butte sette my hed opon a store,
Butte giffe he flaey ȝo all fawre,
Þat griseliche geste!”
VIII
Þenne þe hunter turnes home agayn;Þe king callut on Sir Gauan,
On Bawdewin of Bretan,
And on kene Kay;
He sayd, “Sirs, in ȝour cumpany
Myne avow make I,
Were he neuyr so hardy,
Ȝone satenas to say;
To brittun him, and downe bringe,
Withoute any helpinge—
And I may haue my leuynge—
Hentill tomorne atte day.
64
To do as I haue done nowe,
Ichone make ȝour avowe.”
Gladdely grawuntutte þay.
IX
Þen vnsquarut Gauan,And sayd godely agayn,
“I avowe to Tarnewathelan,
To wake hit all nyȝte.”
“And I avow,” sayd Kaye,
“To ride þis forest or daye;
Quoso wernes me þe waye,
Hym to dethe diȝte!”
Quod Baudewyn, “To stynte owre strife,
I avow, bi my life,
Neuyr to be jelus of my wife,
Ne of no birde bryȝte;
Nere werne nomon my mete,
Quen I gode may gete,
Ne drede my dethe for no threte,
Nauthir of king ner knyȝte.”
X
Butte now þay haue þayre vowes made,Þay buskutte hom, and furthe rade,
To hold þat þay heȝte hade,
Ichone sere way.
The king turnus to þe bore,
Gauan, with[out] any more,
To þe tarne con he fore,
To wake hit today.
Þenne Kay, as I conne roune,
He rode þe forest vppe and downe.
Boudewynne turnes to toune,
Sum þat his gate lay;
65
Butte carpe we now of þer othir thre,
How þay preuyd hor wedde fee,
Þo sothe for to say.
XI
Furst to carpe of oure kinge—Hit is a kyndeliche thinge—
Atte his begynnyng
Howe he dedde his dede.
Till his houndus con he hold;
The bore with his brode schilde,
Folut hom fast in þe filde,
And spillutte on hom gode spede.
Þen þe kinge con crye,
And carputte of venerie,
To make his howundus hardi;
Houut on a stede;
Als sone as he come þare,
Aȝaynus him rebowndet þe bare;
He se neuyr no syȝte are
So sore gerutte him to drede.
XII
He hade drede and doute,Of him þat was stirrun and stowte;
He began to romy and rowte,
And gapes and gones;
Men myȝte noȝte his cowche kenne
For howundes and for slayn men
Þat he hade draun to his denne
And brittunt alle to bonus.
Þenne his tusshes con he quette,
Opon þe kinge for to sette;
He liftis vppe, withoutun lette,
Stokkes and stonis.
66
He ruskes vppe mony a rote,
With tusshes of iij. fote,
So grisly he gronus!
XIII
Þenne þe kinge spanos his spere,Opon þat bore for to bere;
Þer may no dyntus him dere,
So sekir was his schilde.
Þe grete schafte þat was longe,
All to spildurs hit spronge;
Þe gode stede þat was stronge,
Was fallun in þe filde.
As þe bore had mente,
He gaue þe king suche a dinte,
Or he myȝte his bridull hente,
Þat he myȝte euyr hit fele.
His stede was stonet, starkeded.
He sturd neuyr owte of þat sted;
To Jhesu abone he bede
Fro wothes hym weylde.
XIV
Þenne þe king in his sadul sete,And wiȝtely wan on his fete;
He prays to Sayn Margarete,
Fro wathes him ware.
Did as a duȝty knyȝte,
Brayd oute a brand bryȝte,
And heue his schild opon hiȝte,
For spild was his spere.
Sethun he buskette him ȝare,
Squithe withoutun any mare,
Aȝaynus þe fynde for to fare,
That hedoes was of hiere;
67
For all þe weppuns þat he myȝte weld,
Þe bore brittunt his schild,
On brest he conne bere.
XV
Þere downe knelus he,And prayus till him þat was so fre,
“Send me þe vittore,
Þis Satanas me sekes.”
All wrote wex þat sqwyne,
Blu, and brayd vppe his bryne,
As kylne other kechine—
Þus rudely he rekes.
Þe kynge myȝte him noȝte see,
Butte lenyt him doune bi a tree,
So nyȝe discumford was hee,
For smelle oþer smekis.
And as he neghet bi a noke,
Þe king sturenly him stroke,
That bothe his brees con blake,
His maistry he mekes.
XVI
Thus his maistry mekes he,With dyntus that werun duȝte;
Were he heuyr so harde,
Þus bidus þat brothe.
Þe kinge with a nobull brande,
He mette the bore comande;
On his squrd till his hande,
He rennes full rathe.
He bare him inne atte þe throte;
He made no myrthe of þat mote;
He began to dotur and dote,
Os he hade keghet scathe.
68
To brittun him þe king was bowne,
And sundurt in þat sesun
His brode schildus bothe.
XVII
Þe king couthe of venery,Þolurt him full kyndely;
Þe hed of þat hardy,
He sette on a stake;
Sethun brittuns he þe best,
As venesun in forest;
Bothe þe ȝonge and lees
He hongus on a noke.
Þere downe knelys hee,
Þat loues her þat is free,
Sayd, “Þis socur þu hase send me,
For þi sune sake.”
If he were in a dale depe,
He hade no knyȝte him to kepe,
For werre slidus he on slepe,
No lengur myȝte he wake.
XVIII
The king hase fillut his avowe—Of Kay carpe we nowe;
How þat he come fro his prowe,
Ȝe schall here more.
Als he rode in þe nyȝte,
In þe forest he mette a knyȝte
Ledand a birde bryȝte;
Ho wepputte wundur sore.
69
And saue me my madunhede,
And giffe þe knyȝte, for his dede,
Bothe soro and care.”
XIX
Þus ho talkes him tilleQuille ho hade sayd all hur wille;
And Kay held him full stille,
And in þe holte houes;
He prekut oute prestely,
And aurehiet him radly,
And on þe knyȝte conne cry,
And pertely him reproues.
And sayd, “Recraiand knyȝte,
Here I profur þe to fiȝte;
Bechesun of þat biurde briȝte,
I bede þe my glouus!”
Þe toþer vnsquarut him with skill,
And sayd, “I am redy, at þi will,
Þat forward to fulfille,
In all þe me behouus.
XX
“Now quethun art þu?” quod Kay,“Or quethur is þu on way?
Þi riȝte name þu me say!
Quere wan þu þat wiȝte?”
Þe toþer vnsquarut him agayn,
“Mi riȝte name is, noȝte to layn,
Sir Menealfe of the Mountayn,
My godefadur hiȝte.
And this lady sum I þe telle,
I fochet hur atte Ledelle,
Þer hur frindus con hur selle
As foes in a fiȝte;
70
Þat muche blode conne I spille,
And all aȝaynus þayre awne wille;
Þere wan I this wiȝte.”
XXI
Quod Kay, “Þe batell I takeBechesun of þe birdus sake,
And I schalle wurche þe wrake.”
And sqwithely con squere.
Þenne þay rode togedur ryȝte,
As frekes redy to fiȝte—
Bechesun of þat birde bryȝte—
Gay in hor gere.
Menealfe was þe more myȝty,
He stroke Kay stifly,
Witte ȝe, sirs, witturly,
With a scharpe spere;
All toschildurt his schilde,
And aure his sadull gerut him to held,
And felle him flatte in þe filde,
And toke him vppe on werre.
XXII
Þus hase he wonun Kay on werre,And all tospild is his spere,
And mekill of othir gere,
Is holden to þe pees.
Þenne unsquarut Kay aȝayn,
And sayd, “Sir, atte Tarnewathelan
Bidus me Sir Gauan,
Is derwurthe on dese.
Wold ȝe thethur be bowne,
Or ȝe turnut to þe towne,
He wold pay my rawunsone,
Withowtyn delees.”
71
For a cowrce of þat knyȝte.”
Þette Menealfe, or þe mydnyȝte,
Him ruet all his rees.
XXIII
Þus þay turnut to þe torneWith þe thriuand thorne;
Kay callut on Gauan ȝorne,
Asshes, “Quo is there?”
He sayd, “I, Kay, þat þu knawes,
Þat owte of tyme bostus and blawus;
Butte þu me lese with þi lawes,
I lif neuyrmore.
For as I rode in þe nyȝte,
In þe forest I mette a knyȝte
Ledand a birde bryȝte;
Ho wepput wundur sore.
Þere togedur faȝte we,
Bechesun of þat lady free;
On werre þus hase he wonun me,
Gif þat me lothe ware!
XXIV
Þis knyȝte, þat is of renowun,Hase takyn me to presowun,
And þu mun pay my rawunsun,
Gawan, with þi leue.”
Þen vnsquarutte Gauan,
And sayd godely agayn,
“I wille, wundur fayne;
Quatt schall I geue?”
“Quen þu art armut in þi gere,
Take þi schild and þi spere,
And ride to him a course on werre,
Hit schall þe noȝte greue.”
72
To toþer knyȝt grauntus, “Ȝoe;”
He sayd, “Then togedur schull we goe,
Howsumeuyr hit cheuis.”
XXV
And these knyȝtus kithum hor crafte,And authir gripus a schafte,
Was als rude as a rafte,
So runnun þay togedur;
So somun conne þa[y] hie,
Þat nauthir scaput forbye;
Gif Menealfe was þe more myȝtie,
Ȝette dyntus gerut him to dedur.
He stroke him sadde and sore,
Squithe squonut he þore;
Þe blonke him aboute bore,
Wiste he neuyr quedur.
Quod Kay, “Þu hase þat þu hase soȝte,
Mi rauunsun is allredy boȝte,
Gif þu were ded I ne roȝte,
Forþi come I hedur.”
XXVI
Þus Kay scornus þe knyȝte,And Gauan rydus to him ryȝte;
In his sadul sette him on hiȝte,
Speke gif he may.
Of his helme con he draw,
Lete þe wynde on him blaw.
He speke with a vois law,
“Delyueryt hase þu Kay.
With þi laa hase made him leyce,
Butte him is lothe to be in pece,
And þu was aye curtase,
And prins of iche play;
73
Anoþer course wold I ride;
Þis þat houes by my side,
In wedde I wold hur lay!”
XXVII
Thenne vnsquarut Gauan,Sayd godely agayn,
“I am wundur fayn
For hur for to fiȝte.”
These knyȝtus kithum þay[re] gere,
And aythir gripus a spere,
Runnun togedur on werre,
Os hardy and wiȝte.
So somen þat þay ȝode,
Þat Gauan bare him fro his stede,
Þat bothe his brees con blede
On growunde qwen he liȝte.
Thenne Kay con on him calle,
And sayd, “Sir, þu hade a falle,
And þi wenche lost withalle,
Mi trauthe I þe pliȝte!”
XXVIII
Quod Kay, “Þi leue hase þu loste,For all þi brag or þi boste;
If þu haue oȝte on hur coste,
I telle hit for tente.”
Thenne speke Gauan to Kay,
“A mons happe is notte ay,
Is none so sekur of a say,
Butte he may harmes hente.”
Gauan rydus to him ryȝte,
And toke vppe þe toþer knyȝte,
Þat was dilfully dyȝte,
And stonet in þat stynte;
74
Þenne all þe harmes þat he hente þare.
He sayd, “And we allone ware,
Þis stryf schuld I stynte.”
XXIX
“Ȝe, hardely!” quod Kay,“Butte þu hast lost þi fayre may,
And þi liffe, I dar lay.”
Þus talkes he him tille.
And Gauan sayd, “God forbede,
For he is duȝti in dede.”
Prayes þe knyȝte gud spede,
To take hit to none ille
If Kay speke wurdes kene.
“Take þu þis damesell schene,
Lede hur to Gaynour þe quene,
Þis forward to fulfille;
And say þat Gawan hur knyȝte
Sende hur þis byurde briȝte,
And rawunsun þe anon riȝte,
Atte hur awne wille.”
XXX
Þerto grawuntus þe knyȝte,And truly his trauthe pliȝte,
Inne saueward þat byurde bryȝte
To Carlele to bringe.
And as þay houet and abode,
He squere on be squrd brode;
Be he his othe hade made,
Þenne waknut þe king.
Þenne þe day beganne to daw,
Þe kinge his bugull con blaw;
His knyȝtus couthe hitte welle knaw,
His was a sekur thinge.
75
Sqwith withowtun any mare,
To wete þe kingus welefare,
Withowtun letting.
XXXI
To þe forest þay take the way,Bothe Gawan and Kay,
Menealfe and þe fare may,
Comun to þe kinge.
Þe bore brittunt þay funde,
Was colurt of the kingus hunde;
If he were lord of þat londe,
He hade no horsing.
Downe þay take þat birde bryȝte,
Sette hur one, behinde þe knyȝte,
Hur horse for þe king was dyȝte,
Withoutun letting;
Gaue Kay þe venesun to lede,
And hiet hamward gode spede;
Bothe þe birde and þe brede,
To Carlele þay bringe.
XXXII
Now as þay rode atte þe way,Þe kynge himseluun con say,
Bothe to Gauan and to Kay,
“Quere wan ȝe þis wiȝte?”
Thenne Kay to þe king spake,
He sayd, “Sir, in þe forest as I con wake,
Atte þe anturis hoke,
Þer mette me this knyȝte;
Þer togedur faȝte we,
Bechesun of this lady fre;
On werre hase he thus wonun me,
With mayn and wythe myȝte;
76
For a course þat he rode,
And felle him in þe fild brode;
He wanne þis biurde bryȝte.
XXXIII
“He toke him þere to presunnere.”Þen loghe þat damesell dere,
And louet with mylde chere,
God and Sir Gawan.
Þenne sayd þe king opon hiȝte,
All sqwithe to þe knyȝte,
“Quat is þi rawunsun opon ryȝte,
Þe sothe þu me sayn?”
Þe tothir vnsquarut him with skille,
“I conne notte say þe þertille,
Hit is atte the quene wille,
Qwi schuld I layne?
Bothe my dethe and my lyfe,
Is inne þe wille of þi wife,
Quethur ho wulle stynte me of my strife,
Or putte me to payne.”
XXXIV
“Grete God,” quod þe king,“Gif Gawan gode endinge,
For he is sekur in alle kynne thinge
To cowuntur with a knyȝte;
Of all playus he berus þe prise,
Loos of þer ladies.
Menealfe, and þu be wise,
Hold þat þu beheȝte,
And I schall helpe þat I maye,”
The king himseluun con saye.
To Carlele þay take þe waye,
And inne þe courte is liȝte;
77
Before þe quene is he wente,
And sayd, “Medame, I am hedur sente
ffro Gawan, ȝour knyȝte.”
XXXV
He sayd, “Medame, Gawan ȝour knyȝte,On were hase wonun me tonyȝte;
Bechesun of this birde briȝte,
Mi pride conne he spille,
And gerut me squere squyftely
To bringe the this lady,
And my nowne body,
To do hit in þi wille;
And I haue done as he me bade.”
“Now,” quod þe quene, “and I am glade;
Sethun þu art in my wille stade,
To spare or to spille,
I giffe þe to my lord, the kinge,
For he hase mestur of suche a thinge,
Of knyȝtus in acowunturinge,
Þis forward to fullfille.”
XXXVI
“Now,” þe quene sayd, “God Almyȝte,Saue me Gawan, my knyȝte,
That þus for wemen con fiȝte;
Fro wothus him were!”
Gawan sayd, “Medame, as God me spede,
He is duȝti of dede,
A blithe burne on a stede,
And graythe in his gere.”
Þenne þay fochet furthe a boke,
All þayre laes for to loke,
Þe kinge sone his othe toke,
And squithely gerut him squere;
78
Þus dwellus he atte þe rowuntabull,
As prest knyȝte, and preuabull,
With schild and with spere.
XXXVII
Nowe gode frindus ar þay;Þen carpus Sir Kay,
To þe king con he say,
“Sire, a mervaell thinke me,
Of Bowdewyns avouyng,
Ȝustureuyn in þe eunyng,
Withowtun any lettyng,
Wele more thenne we thre.”
Quod þe king, “Sothe to sayn,
I kepe no lengur for to layn,
I wold wete wundur fayn,
How best myȝte be.”
Quod Kay, “And ȝe wold gif me leue,
And sithun take hit o no greue,
Now schuld I propurly preue,
As euyr myȝte I thee.”
XXXVIII
“Ȝisse,” quod þe king, “on þat couande,Þat o payn on life and on londe
Þat ȝe do him no wrunge,
Butte saue wele my knyȝte;
As men monly him mete,
And sithun forsette him þe strete.
Ȝe fynde him noȝte on his fete
Bewarre, for he is wyȝte;
For he is horsutte full wele,
And clene clad in stele;
Is none of ȝo but he mun fele,
Þat he may onlyȝte.
79
Þe king himseluun con say,
“Him is lefe, I dar lay,
To hald þat he heȝte.”
XXXIX
Þenne sex ar atte on assente,Hase armut hom, and furthe wente,
Brayd owte aure a bente,
Bawdewyn to mete;
With scharpe weppun and schene,
Gay gownus of grene
To hold þayre armur clene,
And were hitte fro þe wete.
Thre was sette on iche side
To werne him þe wayus wide;
Quere þe knyȝte schuld furthe ride,
Forsette hym þe strete.
With copus couert þay hom thenne,
Ryȝte as þay hade bene vncowthe men,
For þat þay wold noȝte be kennet,
Euyn downe to þayre fete.
XL
Now as thay houut, and þay hyild,Þay so a schene vndur schild
Þome prekand fast aure þe filde
On a fayre stede;
Wele armut and dyȝte,
As freke redy to fyȝte,
Toward Carlele ryȝte
He hies gode spede.
He see þer sixe in his way;
Þenne to þaymseluun con þay say,
“Now he is ferd, I dar lay,
And of his lyfe dredus.”
80
All squythe to þe knyȝte,
“Othir flee or fiȝte,
Þe tone behouus þe nede!”
XLI
Þenne þay kest þayre copus hom fro,Sir Bawdewyn se þat hit wasse so,
And sayd, “And ȝe were als mony mo,
Ȝe gerutte me notte to flee;
I haue my ways for to weynde,
For to speke with a frynde,
As ȝe ar herdmen hinde,
Ȝe marre notte me!”
Þenne þe sex sembult hom in fere,
And squere, “By him þat boȝte vs dere
Þu passus neuyr away here,
Butte gif þu dede be!”
“Ȝisse! hardely,” quod Kay,
“He may take anothir way,
And þer schall no mon do nere say,
Þat schall greue þe.”
XLII
“Gode the forȝilde,” quod the knyȝte,“For I am in my wais riȝte;
Ȝistureuyn I the king hiȝte,
To cumme to my mete;
I warne ȝo, frekes, be ȝe bold,
My ryȝte ways wille I holde.”
A spere in fewtre he foldes,
A gode and a grete.
Kay stode nexte him in his way;
He jopput him aure on his play,
Þat heuy horse on him lay;
He squonet in þat squete.
81
Þayre schene schildus con he riue,
And faure felle he belyue,
In his in þat hete!
XLIII
Hardely, withouten delay,Þe sex to hom hase takyn vppe Kay,
And þenne Sir Bawdewin con say,
“Will ȝe any more?”
Þe toþer vnsquarutte him þertille,
Sayd, “Þu may weynd quere þu wille,
For þu hase done vs noȝte butte skille,
Gif we be wowundut sore.”
He brayd aure to þe kinge,
Withowtun any letting;
He asshed, if he hade herd any tithing
In þayre holtus hore?
Þe knyȝte stedit and stode,
Sayd, “Sir, as I come thro ȝondur wode,
I herd ne se butte gode,
Quere I schuld furthe fare.”
XLIV
Thanne was þe kinge ameruaylet þareThat he wold telle him no more.
Als squithur þay ar ȝare,
To masse ar thay wente.
By þe masse wasse done,
Kay come home sone;
Told þe king before none,
“We ar all schente
Of Sir Baudewyn, ȝour knyȝte;
He is nobull in þe fiȝte,
Bold, hardy, and wiȝte
To bide on a bente;
82
Him is muche leuyr dee þore;
I may banne hur þat him bore,
Suche harmes haue I hente.”
XLV
Noue þe king sayd, “Fle he ne can,Ne werne his mete to no man;
Gife any biurne schuld him ban,
A meruail hit ware.”
Þenne þe king cald his mynstrelle,
And told him holly his wille—
Bede him layne atte hit were stille—
Þat he schuld furthe fare
To Baudewins of Bretan.
“I cummawunde þe or þu cum agayne,
ffaurty days, o payne,
Loke þat þu duelle þere;
And wete me preuely to say
If any mon go meteles away;
For þi wareson for ay,
Do þu me neuyrmore.”
XLVI
Then the mynstrell weyndus on his wayAls fast as he may;
Be none of þe thryd day
He funde þaym atte þe mete—
Þe lady and hur mene,
And gestus grete plente;
Butte porter none funde he,
To werne him þe ȝate.
Butte rayket into þe halle,
Emunge þe grete and þe smalle,
And loket aboute him aure alle;
He herd of no threte;
83
In bollus birlutte þay þu wyne,
And cocus in þe kechine,
Squytheli con squete.
XLVII
Þen þe ladi conne he loute,And þe biurdes all aboute;
Bothe withinne and withoute,
No faute he þer fonde;
Knyȝte, squyer, ȝoman, ne knaue,
Hom lacket noȝte þat þay schuld haue;
Þay nedut notte aftur hit to craue,
Hit come to hor honde.
Þenne he wente to þe dece,
Before þe pruddust in prece;
Þat lady was curtase,
And bede him stille stonde.
He sayd he was knoun and couthe,
And was comun fro bisouthe,
And ho had myrth of his mouthe
To here his tithand.
XLVIII
A sennyȝt duellut he þare;Þer was no spense for to spare,
Burdes þay were neuyr bare,
Butte euyr couurt clene.
Bothe knyȝte and squiere,
Mynstrelle and messyngere,
Pilgreme and palmere,
Was welcum, I wene.
Þer was plenty of fode,
Pore men hade þayre gode,
Mete and drinke or þay ȝode,
To wete wytheoutyn wene;
84
Butte come home, qwen him gode thoȝte,
And bothe he hase with him broȝte
The kinge and þe quene.
XLIX
Now þer come fro þe kechineRiall seruice and fine;
Ther was no wonting of wine,
To lasse ne to mare.
Þay hade atte þayre sopere,
Riche metes and dere;
Þe king with a blythe chere,
Bade hom sle care.
Þen sayd þe kinge opon hiȝte,
All sqwithe to þe knyȝte,
“Suche a seruice on a nyȝte
Se I neuyr are.”
Þenne Bawdewyn smylit, and on him loghe,
Sayd, “Sir, God hase a gud pluȝe,
He may send vs all enughe,
Qwy schuld we spare?”
L
“Now I cummawunde þe,” quod þe king,“Tomorne in þe mornyng,
Þat þu weynde on huntyng,
To wynne vs þe dere;
ffare furthe to þe fenne,
Take with þe howundus and men,
For þu conne hom best kenne,
Þu knoes best here.
ffor all day tomorne will I bide,
And no forthir will I ride,
Butte with þe lades of pride,
To make me gud chere.”
85
And att þe morun, atte days liȝte,
Þay blew hornys opon hiȝte,
And ferd furthe in fere.
LI
Þenne þe kynge cald his huntere,And sayd, “Felaw, come here.”
Þe toþer, with a blithe chere,
Knelet on his kne;
Dowun to þe kinge con he lowte.
“I commawunde þe to be all nyȝte oute;
Bawdewyn, þat is sturun and stowte,
With þe schall he be.
Erly in þe dawyng,
Loke þat ȝe come fro huntyng—
If ȝe no venesun bring,
ffull litill rechs me.”
Þe toþer vnsquarut him þertille,
Sayd, “Sir, þat is atte ȝour aune wille,
That hald I resun and skille,
As euyr myȝte I the.”
LII
And atte euyn þe king con him dyȝte,And callut to him a knyȝte,
And to þe chambur full riȝte,
He hiees gode waye,
Qwere þe lady of þe howse,
And maydyns full beuteowse,
Were curtase and curiowse,
ffor sothe in bed lay.
The kyng bede “Vndo!”
Þe lady asshes, “Querto?”
He sayd, “I am comun here, loe,
In derne for to play.”
86
And I my lord to my fere?
Tonyȝte more neȝe ȝe me nere,
In faythe, gif I may!”
LIII
“Vndo þe dur,” quod þe kinge,“For bi Him þat made all thinge,
Þu schall haue no harmynge,
Butte in þi none wille.”
Vppe rose a dameselle squete,
In þe kinge þat ho lete;
He sette him downe on hur beddus fete,
And talkes so hur tille.
Sayd, “Medame, my knyȝte
Mun lye with þe all nyȝte,
Til tomorne atte days liȝte,
Take hit on non ille;
For als euyr myȝte I the,
Þu schall harmeles be,
We do hit for a wedde fee,
The stryue for to stylle.”
LIV
Thenne þe kyng sayd to his knyȝte,“Sone þat þu were vndyȝte,
And in ȝondur bedde ryȝte,
Hie þe gud spede!”
Þe knyȝte did as he him bade,
And qwenne ho se him vnclad,
Þen þe lady wex drede.
Worlyke in wede,
He sayd, “Lye downe preuely hur by,
Butte neghe noȝte þu that lady,
For and þu do, þu shall dey
For þi derfe ded;
87
Ne onus turne þe to hur;
Þe toþer sayd, “Nay, sur;”
For him hade he drede.
LV
Thenne þe kyng asshet a chekkere,And cald a damesel dere,
Downe þay sette hom in fere,
Opon þe bed syde.
Torches was þer mony liȝte,
And laumpus brennyng full bryȝte,
Butte notte so hardy was þat knyȝte.
His hede onus to hide.
Butte fro þay began to play,
Quyle on þe morun þat hit was day,
Euyr he lokette as he lay,
Baudewynne to byde;
And erly in þe dawyng,
Come þay home from huntyng,
And hertis conne þay home bring,
And buckes of pride.
LVI
Þay toke þis venesun fyne,And hade hit to kechine;
Þe kinge sonde after Bawdewine,
And bede him cum see.
To þe chaumbur he takes þe way,
He fyndus þe king atte his play,
A knyȝte in his bedde lay,
With his lady.
Þenne sayd þe king opon hiȝte,
“Tonyȝte myssutte I my knyȝte,
And hithir folut I him ryȝte,
Here funden is hee;
88
ffor to do hom in þi wille;
And gif þu take hit now till ille,
No selcouthe thinge me.”
LVII
Þen þe king asshed, “Art þu wrothe?”“Nay, sir,” he sayd, “withouten othe,
Ne wille þe lady no lothe,
I telle ȝo as quy:
For hitte was atte hur awen wille,
Els thurt no mon comun hur tille;
And gif I take hitte þenne to ille,
Muche maugreue haue Y,
For mony wyntur togedur we haue bene,
And ȝette ho dyd me neuyr no tene,
And iche syn schall be sene,
And sette full sorely.”
Þe king sayd, “And I hade þoȝte
Quy þat þu wrathis þe noȝte,
And fyndus him in bed broȝte,
By þi laydy?”
LVIII
Quod Bawdewyn, “And ȝe will sitte,I schall do ȝo wele to witte;”
“Ȝisse,” quod þe king, “I þe hete,
And þu will noȝte layne.”
“Hit befelle in ȝour fadur tyme,
Þat was þe kyng of Costantyne,
Puruayed a grete oste and a fyne,
And wente into Spayne.
We werrut on a Sawdan,
And all his londus we wan,
And himseluun, or we blan.
Þen were we full fayn;
89
He gafe me to my leding
Lordus atte my bidding,
Was buxum and bayne.
LIX
“He gafe me a castell to gete,With all þe lordschippus grete;
I hade men atte my mete,
Fyue hundryth and mo,
And no wemen butte thre,
Þat owre seruandis schild be.
One was bryȝtur of ble
Þen þer othir toe;
Toe were atte one assente,
Þe thrid felow haue þay hente;
Vnto a well ar þay wente,
And says hur allso,
‘Sithin all þe loce in þe lise,
Þu schall tyne þine aprise.’
And wurchun as þe vnwise,
And tite conne hur sloe.
LX
“And for þo werkes were we wo,Gart threte þo othir for to slo;
Þenne sayd the tone of þo,
‘Lette vs haue oure life,
And we schall atte ȝour bidding be
As mycull as we all thre;
Is none of ȝaw in preuete
Schall haue wontyng of wyfe.’
Þay held vs wele þat þay heȝte,
And diȝte vs on þe day liȝte,
And þayre body vche nyȝte,
Withoutun any stryue.
90
Þat þe toþer hade enuy;
Hur throte in sundur preuely,
Ho cutte hitte with a knyfe.
LXI
“Muche besenes hade we,How þat best myȝte be;
Þay asshed cowuncell atte me,
To do hur to dede.
And I vnsquarut, and sayd, ‘Nay,
Loke furst qwatt hurseluun will say,
Queþer ho may serue vs all to pay;
Þat is a bettur rede.’
Þer ho hette vs in þe halle,
To do alle þat a woman schild fall,
Wele for to serue vs all,
Þat stode in þat stede;
Ho held vs wele þat ho heȝte,
And diȝte vs on þe day liȝte,
And hur body iche nyȝte,
Intill oure bed beed.
LXII
“And bi this tale I vndurstode,Wemen þat is of mylde mode,
And syne giffes hom to gode,
Mecull may ho mende;
And þo þat giffus hom to þe ille,
And sithin þayre folis will fullfill,
I telle ȝo wele, be propur skille,
No luffe will inne hom lenge.
With gode wille grathely hom gete,
Meke and mylde atte her mete,
Thryuandly withoutun threte,
And joy atte iche ende;
91
For no siȝte þat I see,
Ne no biurdes briȝte of ble;
Iche ertheli thinke hase ende.”
LXIII
Þe king sayd, “Þu says wele.“Sir,” he sayd, “as haue I sele,
I will þu wote hit iche dele,
Þerfore come Y.
Þi lady gret me to squere squyftele,
Or I myȝte gete entre,
Þat ho schuld harmeles be,
And all hur cumpany.
Þen gerut I my knyȝte
To go in bed with þe biurde bryȝte,
On þe fur syde of þe liȝte,
And lay hur dowun by;
I sette me doune hom besyde,
Here þe for to abide;
He neȝhit neuyr no naked syde
Of þi lady.
LXIV
“fforthi of jelusnes be þu bold,Thine avow may þu hold;
Butte of þo othir thinges þat þu me told,
I wold wete more;
Quy u dredus notte þi dede,
Ne non þat bitus on þi brede,
As [eu]yr brok I my hede,
Þi ȝatis ar euyr ȝare.”
Quod Bawdewyn, “I schall ȝo telle:
Atte þe same castell,
Quere þis antur befelle,
Besegitte we ware;
92
And toke presonerus stoute,
Þe tone of owre foloys had doute,
And durst notte furthe fare.
LXV
“Þe caytef crope into a tunneÞat was sette þer owte in þe sunne;
And þere come fliand a gunne,
And lemet as þe leuyn,
Lyȝte opon hitte atte þe last,
That was fastnut so fast;
All in sundur hit brast,
In six or in seuyn.
And there hit sluȝe him als—
And his hert was so fals—
Sone þe hed fro þe hals,
Hit lyputt full euyn.
And we come fro þe feȝting,
Sowunde withoutun hurting,
And þen we louyd þe king
Þat heghehest was in heuyn.
LXVI
“Þen owre feloys con say,Schall nomon dee or his day,
Butte he cast himselfe away,
Throȝhe wontyng of witte;
And þere myne avow made I,
So dyd all þat cumpany,
For dede neuyr to be drery,
Welcum is hit—
Hit is a kyndely thing.”
“Þu says sothe,” quod þe king,
“Butte of þi thryd avowyng,
Telle me quyche is hit,
93
To no leuand barne?”
“Ther is no man that may hit tharne;
Lord, ȝe schall wele wete.
LXVII
“For þe sege aboute vs lay stille,We hade notte all atte oure wille;
Mete and drinke vs to fille
Vs wontutte þe fode.
So come a messyngere,
Bade, ‘Ȝild vppe all þat is here,’
And speke with a sturun schere.
‘I nyll, by þe rode!’
I gerutte him bide to none,
Callud þe stuard sone,
Told him all as he schuld done,
As counsell is gud;
Gerutte trumpe on þe walle,
And couerd burdes in þe hall;
And I myself emunge hom all,
As a king stode.
LXVIII
“I gerut hom wasshe, to mete wente;Aftur þe stuard þen I sente,
I bede þat he schuld take entente
That all schuld well fare.
Bede bringe bred plente,
And wine in bollus of tre,
Þat no wontyng schuld be,
To lasse ne to mare.
We hade no mete, butte for one day;
Hit come in a nobull aray.
Þe messyngere lokit ay,
And se hom sle care;
94
We gerutte him drinke atte þe ȝate,
And gafe him giftus grete,
And furthe con he fare.
LXIX
“But quen þe messyngere was gone,Þese officers ichone
To me made þay grete mone,
And drerely con say;
Sayd, ‘In this howse is no bred,
No quyte wine nyf red;
Ȝo behoues ȝild vppe þis stid,
And for oure lyuys pray.’
Ȝette God helpus ay his man;
Þe messyngere come agayn þan,
Withoute to þe cheuytan,
And sone conne he say,
‘Þoȝhe ȝe sege þis seuyn ȝere,
Castell gete ȝe none here,
ffor þay make als mirry chere,
Als hit were ȝole day!’
LXX
“Þen þe messyngere con say,‘I rede ȝo, hie ȝo heþinne away,
For in ȝour oste is no play,
Butte hongur and thurst.’
Þenne þe king con his knyȝtis calle,
Sethinne to cowunsell wente þay all;
‘Sythinne no bettur may befall,
This hald I þe best.’
Euyn atte þe mydnyȝte,
Hor lordis sembelet to a syȝte,
Þat were hardy and wiȝte;
Þay remuyt of hor rest.
95
And þere mete hor sege blak brake;
And gerut hom to giffe vs þe bake,
To preke þay were full preste.
LXXI
“And þen we lokit were þay lay,And see oure enmeys away,
And þen oure felawis con say,
Þe lasse and þe mare,
He þat gode may gete,
And wernys men of his mete,
Gud Gode, þat is grete,
Gif him sory care!
ffor the mete of þe messyngere,
Hit mendutte all oure chere.”
Þen sayd þe king, þat þay myȝte here,
And sqwythely con squere,
“In þe conne we fynde no fabull,
Thine avowes arne profetabull.”
And þus recordus þe rowndetabull,
Þe lasse and þe more.
LXXII
Thenne þe kinge and his knyȝtis all,Þay madun myrthe in þat halle,
And þen þe lady conne þay calle,
The fayrist to fold;
Sayde, “Bawdewyn, and þu be wise
Take þu þis lady of price
For muche loue in hur lyce;
To þinne hert hold.
Ho is a biurde full bryȝte,
And þerto semely to þy siȝte,
And þu hase holdinne all þat þu hiȝte
As a kniȝte schulde!”
96
He graunt vs alle his blessynge
And gife vs all gode endinge,
That made vs on þe mulde!
| Sir Amadace and The Avowing of Arthur | |