 | Lancelot of the Laik |  |
11
Twenty dais In to the aryeit
Haith maid his courss, and all with diuerss hewis
Aparalit haith the feldis and the bewis,
The birdis amyd the erbis & the flouris,
And one the branchis, makyne gone thar bouris,
And be the morow singing in ther chere
Welcum the lusty sessone of the ȝere.
In to this tyme the worthi conqueroure
Arthure, wich had of al this worlde the floure
Of cheuelry anerding to his crown,
So pasing war his knychtis in renoune,
Was at carlill; and hapynnit so that hee
Soiornyt well long in that faire cuntree.
In to whilk tyme In to the court thai heire
None awenture, for wich the knyghtis weire
Anoit all at the abiding thare.
For why, beholding one the sobir ayre
And of the tyme the pasing lustynes,
Can so thir knyghtly hartis to encress,
That thei shir kay one to the king haith sende,
Beseiching hyme he wold wichsaif to wende
To camelot the Cetee, whare that thei
Ware wont to heryng of armys day be day.
The king forsuth, heryng thare entent,
To thare desir, be schort awysment,
Ygrantid haith; and so the king proponit
And for to pas one hyme one the morne disponit.
Bot so befell hyme that nycht to meit
An aperans, the wich one to his spreit
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Of fallith and maid desolat; wharfore
The king therof was pensyve in his mynd,
That al the day he couth no resting fynde,
Wich makith hyme his Iorneye to delaye.
And so befell apone the thrid day,
The bricht sone, pasing in the west,
Haith maid his courss, and al thing goith to Rest;
The king, so as the story can dewyss,
He thoght aȝeine, apone the samyne wyss,
His vombe out fallith vith his hoil syde
Apone the ground, & liging hyme besid;
Throw wich anon out of his slep he stert,
Abasit and adred in to his hart.
The wich be morow one to the qwen he told,
And she aȝeine to hyme haith ansuer ȝolde;
“To dremys, sir, shuld no man have Respek,
For thei ben thingis weyn, of non affek.”
“Well,” quod the king, “god grant It so befall!”
Arly he ross, and gert one to hyme call
O clerk, to whome that al his hewynes
Tweching his drem shewith he express;
Wich ansuer yaf and seith one to the kinge;
“Shir, no Record lyith to such thing;
Wharfor now, shir, I praye yow tak no kep,
Nore traist in to the vanyteis of slep,
For thei are thingis that askith no credens,
But causith of sum maner influens,
Empriss of thoght ore superfleuytee,
Or than sum othir casualytee.”
“Ȝit,” quod the king, “I sal nocht leif It so;”
And furth he chargit mesingeris to go
Throgh al his Realm, withouten more demande,
And bad them stratly at thei shulde comande
Al the bishopes, and makyng no delay
The shuld appere be the tuenty day
13
That most expert war, for to certefye
A mater tueching to his gost be nyght.
The mesag goith furth with the lettres Right.
The king eft sone, within a litill space,
His Iornay makith haith frome place to place,
Whill that he cam to camelot; and there
The clerkis all, as that the chargit were,
Assemblit war, and came to his presens,
Of his desir, to viting the sentens.
To them that war to hyme most speciall
Furth his entent shauyth he al hall;
By whois conseil, of the worthiest
He chesith ten, yclepit for the best,
And most expert and wisest was supposit,
To qwhome his drem all hail he haith disclossit,
The houre, the nyght, and al the cercumstans,
Besichyne them that the signifycans
Thei wald hyme shaw, that he mycht resting fynde
Of It, the wich that occupeid his mynde.
And one of them with al ther holl assent
Saith, “shire, fore to declare our entent
Vpone this matere, ye wil ws delay
Fore to awysing one to the ix day.”
The king ther-to grantith haith, bot hee
In to o place, that strong was and hye,
He closith them, whare thei may no whare get,
Vn to the day, the wich he to them set.
Than goith the clerkis sadly to awyss
Of this mater, to seing in what wyss
The kingis drem thei shal best specefy.
And than the maistris of astronomy
The bookis longyne to ther artis set;
Not was the bukis of arachell forget,
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Of moyses, & of herynes all soo;
And seking be ther calcolacioune
To fynd the planetis disposicioune,
The wich thei fond ware wonder ewill yset
The samyne nyght the king his sweuen met.
So ner the point socht thei have the thing,
Thei fond It wonder hewy to the king,
Of wich thing thei waryng in to were
To shew the king, for dreid of his danger.
Of ane accorde thei planly haue proponit
No worde to show, and so thei them disponit.
The day is cumyng, and he haith fore them sent,
Besichyne them to shewing ther entent.
Than spak they all, and that of an accorde;
“Shir, of this thing we can no thing Recorde,
For we can noght fynd in til our sciens,
Tweching this mater, ony ewydens.”
“Now,” quod the king, “and be the glorius lorde,
Or we depart ye shall sum thing recorde;
So pas yhe uot, nor so It sall not bee.”
“Than,” quod the clerkis, “grant ws dais three.”
The wich he grantid them, and but delay,
The term passith, no thing wold the say,
Wharof the king stondith heuy cherith,
And to the clerkis his visag so apperith,
That all thei dred them of the kingis myght.
Than saith o clerk, “sir, as the thrid nyght
Ye dremyt, so giffis ws delay
The thrid tyme, and to the thrid day.”
By whilk tyme thei fundyng haith the ende
Of this mater, als far as shal depend
To ther sciens; yit can thei not awyss
To schewing to the king be ony wyss.
The day is cum, the king haith them besocht,
Bot one no wyss thei wald declar ther thoght;
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And maid his wow that thei shal ben distroyt.
His baronis he commandit to gar tak
Fyve of them one to the fir stak,
And vther fyue be to the gibbot tone;
And the furth with the kingis charg ar gone.
He bad them in to secret wyss that thei
Shud do no harm, but only them assey.
The clerkis, dredful of the kingis Ire,
And saw the perell of deth and of the fyre,
Fyve, as thei can, has grantit to record;
That vther herde and ben of ther accorde;
And al thei ben yled one to the king,
And shew hyme thus as tueching of this thing.
“Shir, sen that we constrenyt ar by myght
To shaw wich that we knaw no thing aricht;
For thing to cum preseruith It allan
To hyme the wich is euery thing certan̄,
Excep the thing that til our knawleg hee
Hath ordynat of certan for to bee;
Therfor, shir king, we your magnificens
Beseich It turne till ws to non offens,
Nor hald ws nocht as learis, thoght It fall
Not in this mater, as that we telen shall.”
And that the king haith grantit them, & thei
Has chargit one, that one this wiss sall seye.
“Presumyth, shir, that we have sundyne so;
All erdly honore ye nedist most for-go,
And them the wich ye most affy in tyll
Shal failye ȝow, magre of ther will;
And thus we haue in to this matere founde.”
The king, qwhois hart was al wyth dred ybownd,
And askit at the clerkis, if thei fynde
By there clergy, that stant in ony kynde
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His desteny, that stud in such a forme:
If in the hewyne Is preordynat
On such o wiss his honor to translat.
The clerkis faith, “forsuth, and we haue sene
O thing whar of, if we the trouth shal men̄,
Is so obscure and dyrk til our clergye,
That we wat not what It shal signefye,
Wich causith ws we can It not furth say,”
“Yis,” quod the king, “as lykith yow ye may,
For wers than this can nat be said for me.”
Thane saith o maistir, “than suthly thus finde we;
Thar is no thing sal sucour nor reskew,
Your wordly honore nedis most adew,
But throuch the watrye lyone & ek fyne
On throuch the liche & ek the wattir syne,
And throuch the conseill of the flour; god wot
What this shude men̄, for mor ther of we not.”
No word the king ansuerid ayane,
For al this resone thinkith bot in weyne.
He shawith outwart his contenans
As he therof takith no greuans;
But al the nyght it passid nat his thoght.
The dais courss with ful desir he socht,
And furth he goith to bring his mynd in rest
With mony O knyght vn to the gret forest;
The rachis gon wn-copelit for the deire,
That in the wodis makith nois & cheir;
The knychtis, with the grewhundis in aweit,
Secith boith the planis and the streit.
Doune goith the hart, doune goith the hynd alfo;
The swift grewhund, hardy of assay,
Befor ther hedis no thing goith away.
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And to his palace home he can Resort,
Ayan the noon; and as that he was set
Vith all his noble knyghtis at the met,
So cam ther in an agit knyght & hee
Of gret efstat semyt for to bee;
Anarmyt all, as tho It was the gyss,
And thus the king he salust, one this wiss:
“Shir king, one to yow am y sende
Frome the worthiest that in world is kend,
That leuyth now of his tyme and age,
Of manhed, wisdome, & of hie curag,
Galiot, sone of the fare gyande;
And thus, at short, he bidis yow your londe
Ye yald hyme our, without Impedyment;
Or of hyme holde, and if tribut and rent.
This is my charge, at short, whilk if youe lest
For to fulfill, of al he haith conquest
He sais that he most tendir shal youe hald.”
By short awys the king his anfuer yald;
“Shir knycht, your lorde wondir hie pretendis,
When he to me sic salutatioune sendis;
For I as yit, in tymys that ar gone,
Held neuer lond excep of god alone,
Nore neuer thinkith til erthly lord to yef
Trybut nor rent, als long as I may lef.”
“Well,” quod the knycht, “ful for repentith me;
Non may recist the thing the wich mone bee.
To yow, sir king, than frome my lord am I
With diffyans sent, and be this resone why;
His purpos Is, or this day moneth day,
With all his ost, planly to assay
Your lond, with mony manly man of were,
And helmyt knychtis, boith with sheld & spere;
And neuer thinkith to retwrn home whill
That he this lond haith conquest at his will;
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Herith report of al this world that shee
In fairhed and in wertew doith excede,
He bad me say he thinkis to possede.”
“Schir,” quod the king, “your mesag me behufis
Of resone and of curtasy excusss;
But tueching to your lord & to his ost,
His powar, his mesag, and his bost,
That pretendith my lond for to distroy,
Tharof as ȝit tak I non anoye;
And say your lord one my behalf, when hee
Haith tone my lond, that al the world shal see
That It shal be magre myne entent.”
With that the knycht, withouten leif, is went,
And richt as he was pasing to the dure,
He saith, “a gode! what wykyt aduenture
Apperith!” with that his hors he nome,
Two knichtis kepit, waiting his outcome.
The knicht is gon, the king he gan Inquere
At gawan, and at other knychtis sere,
If that thei knew or euer hard recorde
Of galiot, and wharof he wes lorde;
And ther was non among his knychtis all
Which ansuerd o word in to the hall.
Than galygantynis of walys rase,
That trauelit in diuerss londis has,
In mony knychtly auentur haith ben;
And to the king he saith, “sir, I haue sen
Galiot, which is the farest knycht,
And hiest be half a fut one hycht,
That euer I saw, and ek his men accordith;
Hyme lakid nocht that to a lord recordith.
For visare of his ag is non than hee,
And ful of larges and humylytee;
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And is not xxiiij ȝer of age,
And of his tyme mekil haith conquerit;
Ten kingis at his command ar sterit.
He vith his men so louit is, y gess,
That hyme to pless is al ther besynes.
Not say I this, sir, in to ye entent
That he, nor none wnder the firmament,
Shal pouere haue ayane your maiestee;
And, or thei shuld, this y sey for mee,
Rather I shall knychtly in to feild
Resaue my deith anarmyt wnder sheld.
This spek y lest;”—the king, ayan the morn,
Haith varnit huntaris baith with hund & horne,
And arly gan one to the forest ryd,
With mony manly knyghtis by his sid,
Hyme for to sport and comfort with the dere,
Set contrare was the sesone of ye yere.
His most huntyng was atte wyld bore;
God wot a lustye cuntree was It thoore,
In the ilk tyme! weil long this noble king
In to this lond haith maid his siiornyng.
Frome the lady was send o mesinger
Of melyhalt, wich saith one this maner,
As that the story shewith by recorde:
“To yow, sir king, as to hir soueran lorde,
My lady hath me chargit for to say
How that your lond stondith in affray;
For galiot, sone of the fare gyande,
Enterit Is by armys in your land,
And so the lond and cuntre he anoyth,
That quhar he goith planly he distroyth,
And makith al obeisand to his honde,
That nocht is left wnconquest in that lond,
Excep two castellis longing to hir cwre,
Wich to defend she may nocht long endure.
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Ye mon dispone your folk for to support.”
“Wel,” quod the king, “one to thi lady say,
The neid is myne, I fall It not delay;
But what folk ar thei nemmyt for to bee,
That in my lond is cumyne in sich degree?”
“An hundreth thousand boith vith sheld & spere
On hors ar armyt, al redy for the were.”
“Wel,” quod the king, “and but delay this nycht,
Or than to morn as that the day is lycht,
I shal remuf; ther shal no thing me mak
Impedyment my Iorney for to tak.”
Than seith his knychtis al with one assent,
“Shir, that is al contrare our entent;
For to your folk this mater is wnwist,
And ye ar here our few for to recist
Ȝone power, and youre cuntre to defende;
Tharfor abid, and for your folk ye send,
That lyk a king and lyk a weriour
Ye may susten in armys your honoure.”
“Now,” quod the king, “no langer that I ȝeme
My crowne my septure, nor my dyademe,
Frome that I here, ore frome I wnderstand,
That ther by fors be entrit in my land
Men of armys by strenth of vyolens,
If that I mak abid or resydens
In to o place langar than o nycht,
For to defend my cuntre & my rycht.”
The king that day his mesage haith furth sent
Throuch al his realme, and syne to rest is went.
Up goith the morow, wp goith the brycht day,
Wp goith the sone in to his fresh aray;
Richt as he spred his bemys frome northest,
The king wprass withouten more arest,
And by his awn conseil and entent
His Iornaye tuk at short awysment.
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Whill that he cam nere whare the lady was,
And in one plane, apone o reuer syde,
He lichtit doune, and ther he can abide;
And yit with hyme to batell fore to go
Vij thousand fechteris war thei, & no mo.
This was the lady, of qwhome befor I tolde,
That lancilot haith in to hir kepinge holde;
But for to tell his pasing hewynesse,
His peyne, his sorow, and his gret distresse
Of presone and of loues gret suppris,
It war to long to me for to dewys.
When he remembrith one his hewy charge
Of loue, wharof he can hyme not discharge,
He wepith and he sorowith in his chere,
And euery nyght semyth hyme o yere.
Gret peite was the sorow that he maad,
And to hyme self apone this wiss he saade:
“Qwhat haue y gilt, allace! or qwhat deseruit?
That thus myne hart shal vondit ben & carwit
One by the suord of double peine and wo?
My comfort and my plesans is ago,
To me is nat that shuld me glaid reseruit.
That thus myne hart shal vondit ben & carwit
One by the suord of double peine and wo?
My comfort and my plesans is ago,
To me is nat that shuld me glaid reseruit.
I curss the tyme of myne Natiuitee,
Whar in the heuen It ordinyd was for me,
In all my lyue neuer til haue eess;
But for to be example of disess,
And that apperith that euery vicht may see.
Whar in the heuen It ordinyd was for me,
In all my lyue neuer til haue eess;
But for to be example of disess,
And that apperith that euery vicht may see.
Sen thelke tyme that I had sufficians
Of age, and chargit thoghtis sufferans,
Nor neuer I continewite haith o day
With-out the payne of thoghtis hard assay;
Thus goith my youth in tempest & penans.
Of age, and chargit thoghtis sufferans,
Nor neuer I continewite haith o day
With-out the payne of thoghtis hard assay;
Thus goith my youth in tempest & penans.
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And now my body is In presone broght;
Bot of my wo, that in Regard is noght,
The wich myne hart felith euer more.
O deth, allace! whi hath yow me forbore
That of remed haith the so long besoght!”
Bot of my wo, that in Regard is noght,
The wich myne hart felith euer more.
O deth, allace! whi hath yow me forbore
That of remed haith the so long besoght!”
Thus neueremore he sesith to compleine,
This woful knyght that felith not bot peine,
So prekith hyme the smert of loues sore,
And euery day encressith more and more.
And with this lady takine is also
And kepit whar he may no whare go
To haunt knychthed, the wich he most desirit;
And, thus his hart with dowbil wo yfirite,
We lat hyme duel here with the lady still,
Whar he haith laisere for to compleine his fyll.
And galiot in this meyne tyme he laie
This woful knyght that felith not bot peine,
So prekith hyme the smert of loues sore,
And euery day encressith more and more.
And with this lady takine is also
And kepit whar he may no whare go
To haunt knychthed, the wich he most desirit;
And, thus his hart with dowbil wo yfirite,
We lat hyme duel here with the lady still,
Whar he haith laisere for to compleine his fyll.
By strong myght o castell to assay,
With many engyne and diuerss wais sere,
For of fute folk he had a gret powere
That bowis bur, and vther Instrumentis,
And with them lede ther palȝonis & ther tentis,
With mony o strong chariot and cher
With yrne qwhelis and barris long & sqwar;
Well stuffit with al maner apparell
That longith to o sege or to batell;
Whar with his ost was closit al about,
That of no strenth nedith hyme to dout.
And when he hard the cumyne of the king,
And of his ost, and of his gaderyng,
The wich he reput but of febil myght
Ayanis hyme for to susten the ficht,
His consell holl assemblit he, but were,
Ten kingis with other lordis sere,
And told them of the cuming of the king,
And askit them there consell of that thing.
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If he hyme self in propir persone raide
Enarmyt ayane so few menye
As It was told arthur fore to bee;
And thane the kyng An hundereth knychtis cold,
(And so he hot, for neuermore he wolde
Ryd of his lond, but In his cumpany
O hundyre knyghtis ful of chiuellry),
He saith, “shir, ande I one hond tak,
If It you pless, this Iorney shal I mak.”
Quod galiot, “I grant It yow, but ye
Shal first go ryd, yone knychtis ost & see.”
With-outen more he ridith our the plan,
And saw the ost, and is returnyd ayan̄;
And callit them mo than he hade sen, for why
He dred the represe of his cumpany.
And to his lord apone this wys saith hee,
“Shir, ten thousand y ges them for to bee.”
And galiot haith chargit hyme to tak
Als fell folk, and for the feld hyme mak.
And so he doith and haith them wel Arayt.
Apone the morne his banaris war displayt.
Up goth the trumpetis with the clariouns,
Ayaine the feld blawen furth ther sownis;
Furth goth this king with al his ost anon.
Be this the word wes to king arthur gone,
That knew no thing, nor wist of ther entent,
But sone his folk ar one to armys went;
But arthur by Report hard saye
How galiot non armys bur that day,
Wharfor he thoght of armys nor of sheld
None wald he tak, nor mak hyme for the feld.
But gawane haith he clepit, was hyme by,
In qwhome Rignith the flour of cheuelry,
And told one what maner, and one what wyss
He shuld his batelles ordand and dewys,
Beseching hyme, wisly to for-see
Aȝaine thei folk, wich was far mo than hee.
He knew the charg, and passith one his way
Furth to his horss, and makith no dulay;
The clariounis blew, and furth goth al onon̄,
And our ye watter and the furd ar gon̄e.
Within o playne vpone that other syd
Ther gawan gon his batellis to dewide,
As he wel couth, and set them in aray,
Syne with o manly contynans can say,
“Ye falowis wich of the round table ben̄
Through al this erth whois fam is hard & sen,
Remembrith now It stondith one the poynt,
For why It lyith one your speris poynt,
The well fare of the king and of our londe;
And sen the sucour lyith in your honde,
And hardement is thing shall most awaill
Frome deth ther men of armys in bataill,
Lat now your manhed and your hie curage
The pryd of al thir multitude assuage.
Deth or defence, non other thing we wot.”
This fresch king, that maleginis was hot,
With al his ost he cummyne our the plan̄,
And gawan send o batell hyme agan̄
In myde the berde, and festinit in the stell
The sperithis poynt, that bitith scharp & well;
Bot al to few thei war, and mycht nocht left
This gret Rout that cummyth one so fast.
Than haith sir gawan send, them to support,
One othir batell with one knychtly sorte,
And syne the thrid, and syne the ferde also;
And syne hyme self one to the feld can go,
When that he sauch thar latter batell steir,
And the ten thousand cummyne al thei veir;
Qwhar that of armes prewit he so well,
His ennemys gane his mortall [strokis] fell.
He goith ymong them in his hie curage,
As he that had of knyghthed the wsage,
And couth hyme weill conten in to on hour;
Aȝaine his strok resistit non armour;
And mony knycht, that worth ware and bolde,
War thore with hyme of arthuris houshold,
And knyghtly gan one to the feld them bere,
And mekil wroght of armys In to were;
Sir gawan than vpone such wyss hyme bure,
This othere goith al to discumfitoure;
Sewyne thousand fled, & of the feld thei go,
Whar of this king in to his hart was wo,
For of hyme self he was of hie curage.
To galiot than send he in mesag,
That he shuld help his folk for to defende;
And he to hyme hath xxxte thousand sende;
Whar of this king gladith in his hart,
And thinkith to Reweng all the smart
That he to for haith suffirit and the payne.
And al his folk returnyt Is ayayne
Atour the feld, and cummyne thilk as haill;
The swyft horss goith first to the assall.
This noble knyght that seith the grete forss
Of armyt men, that cummyne vpone horss,
To-giddir semblit al his falowschip,
And thoght them at the sharp poynt to kep,
So that thar harm̄ shal be ful deir yboght.
This vthere folk with straucht courss hath socht
Out of aray atour the larg felld;
Thar was the strokis festnit in the shelde,
Thei war Resauit at the speris end;
So arthuris folk can manfully defend;
The formest can thar lyues end conclude,
Whar sone assemblit al the multitude.
Thar was defens, ther was gret assaill,
Richt wonderfull and strong was ye bataill,
Whar arthuris folk sustenit mekil payn,
And knychtly them defendit haith aȝaine.
Bot endur thei mycht, apone no wyss,
The multitude and ek the gret suppriss;
But gawan, wich that setith al his payn
Vpone knyghthed, defendid so aȝaine,
That only in the manhede of this knyght
His folk reIosit them of his gret myght,
And ek abasit hath his ennemys;
For throw the feld he goith in such wyss,
And in the press so manfully them seruith,
His suerd atwo the helmys al to-kerwith,
The hedis of he be the shouderis smat;
The horss goith, of the maister desolat.
But what awalith al his besynes,
So strong and so insufferable vas the press?
His folk are passit atour the furdis ilkon,
Towart thar bretis and to ther luges gon;
Whar he and many worthy knyght also
Of arthuris houss endurit mekill wo,
That neuer men mar in to armys vroght
Of manhed, ȝit was It al for noght.
Thar was the strenth, ther was the pasing myght
Of gawan, wich that whill the dirk nyght
Befor the luges faucht al hyme alon̄,
When that his falowis entrit ware ilkon̄.
On arthuris half war mony tan and slan;
And galotis folk Is hame returnyd aȝaine,
For it was lait; away the ostis ridith,
And gawan ȝit apone his horss abidith,
With suerd in hond, when thei away var gon,
And so for-wrocht hys lymmys ver ilkon,
And wondit ek his body vp and doune,
Vpone his horss Right thore he fel in swoune;
And thei hyme tuk & to his lugyne bare,
Boith king and qwen of hyme vare in dispare,
For thei supposit, throw marwellis that he vroght,
He had hyme self to his confusioune broght.
Ayaine the feld blawen furth ther sownis;
Furth goth this king with al his ost anon.
Be this the word wes to king arthur gone,
That knew no thing, nor wist of ther entent,
But sone his folk ar one to armys went;
But arthur by Report hard saye
How galiot non armys bur that day,
Wharfor he thoght of armys nor of sheld
None wald he tak, nor mak hyme for the feld.
But gawane haith he clepit, was hyme by,
In qwhome Rignith the flour of cheuelry,
And told one what maner, and one what wyss
He shuld his batelles ordand and dewys,
24
Aȝaine thei folk, wich was far mo than hee.
He knew the charg, and passith one his way
Furth to his horss, and makith no dulay;
The clariounis blew, and furth goth al onon̄,
And our ye watter and the furd ar gon̄e.
Within o playne vpone that other syd
Ther gawan gon his batellis to dewide,
As he wel couth, and set them in aray,
Syne with o manly contynans can say,
“Ye falowis wich of the round table ben̄
Through al this erth whois fam is hard & sen,
Remembrith now It stondith one the poynt,
For why It lyith one your speris poynt,
The well fare of the king and of our londe;
And sen the sucour lyith in your honde,
And hardement is thing shall most awaill
Frome deth ther men of armys in bataill,
Lat now your manhed and your hie curage
The pryd of al thir multitude assuage.
Deth or defence, non other thing we wot.”
This fresch king, that maleginis was hot,
With al his ost he cummyne our the plan̄,
And gawan send o batell hyme agan̄
In myde the berde, and festinit in the stell
The sperithis poynt, that bitith scharp & well;
Bot al to few thei war, and mycht nocht left
This gret Rout that cummyth one so fast.
Than haith sir gawan send, them to support,
One othir batell with one knychtly sorte,
And syne the thrid, and syne the ferde also;
And syne hyme self one to the feld can go,
When that he sauch thar latter batell steir,
And the ten thousand cummyne al thei veir;
25
His ennemys gane his mortall [strokis] fell.
He goith ymong them in his hie curage,
As he that had of knyghthed the wsage,
And couth hyme weill conten in to on hour;
Aȝaine his strok resistit non armour;
And mony knycht, that worth ware and bolde,
War thore with hyme of arthuris houshold,
And knyghtly gan one to the feld them bere,
And mekil wroght of armys In to were;
Sir gawan than vpone such wyss hyme bure,
This othere goith al to discumfitoure;
Sewyne thousand fled, & of the feld thei go,
Whar of this king in to his hart was wo,
For of hyme self he was of hie curage.
To galiot than send he in mesag,
That he shuld help his folk for to defende;
And he to hyme hath xxxte thousand sende;
Whar of this king gladith in his hart,
And thinkith to Reweng all the smart
That he to for haith suffirit and the payne.
And al his folk returnyt Is ayayne
Atour the feld, and cummyne thilk as haill;
The swyft horss goith first to the assall.
This noble knyght that seith the grete forss
Of armyt men, that cummyne vpone horss,
To-giddir semblit al his falowschip,
And thoght them at the sharp poynt to kep,
So that thar harm̄ shal be ful deir yboght.
This vthere folk with straucht courss hath socht
Out of aray atour the larg felld;
Thar was the strokis festnit in the shelde,
Thei war Resauit at the speris end;
So arthuris folk can manfully defend;
26
Whar sone assemblit al the multitude.
Thar was defens, ther was gret assaill,
Richt wonderfull and strong was ye bataill,
Whar arthuris folk sustenit mekil payn,
And knychtly them defendit haith aȝaine.
Bot endur thei mycht, apone no wyss,
The multitude and ek the gret suppriss;
But gawan, wich that setith al his payn
Vpone knyghthed, defendid so aȝaine,
That only in the manhede of this knyght
His folk reIosit them of his gret myght,
And ek abasit hath his ennemys;
For throw the feld he goith in such wyss,
And in the press so manfully them seruith,
His suerd atwo the helmys al to-kerwith,
The hedis of he be the shouderis smat;
The horss goith, of the maister desolat.
But what awalith al his besynes,
So strong and so insufferable vas the press?
His folk are passit atour the furdis ilkon,
Towart thar bretis and to ther luges gon;
Whar he and many worthy knyght also
Of arthuris houss endurit mekill wo,
That neuer men mar in to armys vroght
Of manhed, ȝit was It al for noght.
Thar was the strenth, ther was the pasing myght
Of gawan, wich that whill the dirk nyght
Befor the luges faucht al hyme alon̄,
When that his falowis entrit ware ilkon̄.
On arthuris half war mony tan and slan;
And galotis folk Is hame returnyd aȝaine,
For it was lait; away the ostis ridith,
And gawan ȝit apone his horss abidith,
With suerd in hond, when thei away var gon,
And so for-wrocht hys lymmys ver ilkon,
27
Vpone his horss Right thore he fel in swoune;
And thei hyme tuk & to his lugyne bare,
Boith king and qwen of hyme vare in dispare,
For thei supposit, throw marwellis that he vroght,
He had hyme self to his confusioune broght.
[T]his was nere by of melyhalt, the hyll,
Whar lanscelot ȝit was with the lady still.
The knychtis of the court pasing hom̄e;
This ladiis knychtis to hir palice com,
And told to hir, how that the feld was vent,
And of gawan, and of his hardyment,
That merwell was his manhed to behold;
And sone thir tithingis to the knycht vas told,
That was with wo and hewyness opprest,
So noyith hyme his suiorne and his rest;
And but dulay one for o knycht he send,
That was most speciall with the lady kend.
He comyne, and the knycht vn to hyme said,
“Displess yow not, sir, be ȝhe not ill paid,
So homly thus I yow exort to go,
To gare my lady spek o word or two
With me, that am a carful presonere.”
“Sir, your commande y shall, withouten were,
Fulfill;” and to his lady passit hee
In lawly wyss besiching hir, that she
Wald grant hyme to pas at his request,
Vnto hir knycht, stood wnder hir arest;
And she, that knew al gentilless aright,
Furth to his chamber passit wight the licht.
And he aross and salust Curtasly
Whar lanscelot ȝit was with the lady still.
The knychtis of the court pasing hom̄e;
This ladiis knychtis to hir palice com,
And told to hir, how that the feld was vent,
And of gawan, and of his hardyment,
That merwell was his manhed to behold;
And sone thir tithingis to the knycht vas told,
That was with wo and hewyness opprest,
So noyith hyme his suiorne and his rest;
And but dulay one for o knycht he send,
That was most speciall with the lady kend.
He comyne, and the knycht vn to hyme said,
“Displess yow not, sir, be ȝhe not ill paid,
So homly thus I yow exort to go,
To gare my lady spek o word or two
With me, that am a carful presonere.”
“Sir, your commande y shall, withouten were,
Fulfill;” and to his lady passit hee
In lawly wyss besiching hir, that she
Wald grant hyme to pas at his request,
Vnto hir knycht, stood wnder hir arest;
And she, that knew al gentilless aright,
Furth to his chamber passit wight the licht.
The lady, and said, “madem, her I,
Your presoner, besekith yow that ȝhe
Wold mersy and compassione have of me,
28
I waist my tyme in presoune thus to leife.
For why I her on be report be told,
That arthur, with the flour of his housholde,
Is cummyne here, and in this cuntre lyis,
And stant In danger of his ennemyis;
And haith assemblit, and efter this shalt bee
Within short tyme one new assemblee.
Thar for, my lady, y youe grace besech;
That I mycht pas, my Ranson for to fech;
Fore I presume that longith to that sort
That louid me, and shal my nede support.”
“Shire knycht, It stant nocht in sich dugree;
It is no ransone wich that causith me
To holden yow, or don yow sich offens,
It is your gilt, It is your wiolens,
Whar of that I desir no thing but law,
Without report your awn̄ trespas to knaw.”
“Madem, your plesance may ye wel fulfill
Of me, that am in presone at your will.
Bot of that gilt, I was for til excuss,
For that I did of werrey nede behwss,
It tuechit to my honore and my fame;
I mycht nocht lefe It but hurting of my nam,
And ek the knycht was mor to blam than I.
But ye, my lady, of your curtessy,
Wold ȝe deden my Ransoune to resaue,
Of presone so I my libertee myght haue,
Y ware ȝolde euermore your knyght,
Whill that I leif, with al my holl myght.
And if so be ye lykith not to ma
My ransone, if me leif to ga
To the assemble, wich sal be of new;
And as that I am feithful knycht & trew,
At nycht to yow I enter shall aȝaine,
But if that deth or other lat certan̄,
29
That I be hold, magre myne entent.”
“Sir knycht,” quod she, “I grant yow leif, withthy
Your name to me that ȝe wil specify.”
“Madem, as ȝit, sutly I ne may
Duclar my name, one be no maner way;
But I promyt, als fast as I haue tyme
Conuenient, or may vith-outen cryme,
I shall;” and than the lady saith hyme tyll,
“And I, schir knycht, one this condiscione will
Grant yow leve, so that ye oblist bee
For to Return, as ye haue said to me.”
Thus thei accord, the lady goith to rest;
The sone discending closit in the vest.
The ferd day was dewysit for to bee
Betuex the oftis of the assemblee.
And galiot Richt arly by the day,
Ayane the feld he can his folk aray;
And fourty thousand armyt men haith he,
That war not at the othir assemble,
Commandit to the batell for to gon;
“And I my self,” quod he, “shal me dispone
On to the feild aȝaine the thrid day;
Whar of this were we shal the end assay.”
And arthuris folk that come one euery syd,
He for the feld can them for to prouide,
Wich ware to few aȝaine the gret affere
Of galiot ȝit to susten the were.
The knychtis al out of the cete ross
Of melyholt, and to the semble gois.
And the lady haith, in to sacret wyss,
Gart for hir knycht and presoner dewyss
In red al thing, that ganith for the were;
His curseir red, so was boith scheld & spere.
& he, to qwham the presone hath ben smart,
With glaid desir apone his cursour start;
Towart the feld anon he gan to ryd,
And in o plan houit one reuer syde.
This knycht, the wich that long haith ben in cag,
He grew in to o fresch & new curage,
Seing the morow blythfull and amen,
The med, the Reuer, and the vodis gren,
The knychtis in armys them arayinge,
The baneris ayaine the feld displayng.
His ȝouth in strenth and in prosperytee,
And syne of lust the gret aduersytee,
Thus in his thocht remembryng at the last,
Efterward one syd he gan his Ey to cast,
Whar our a bertes lying haith he sen
Out to the feld luking was the qwen;
Sudandly with that his gost astart
Of loue anone haith caucht hyme by the hart;
Than saith he, “How long shall It be so,
Loue, at yow shall wirk me al this wo?
Apone this wyss to be Infortunat,
Hir for to serue the wich thei no thing wate
What sufferance I in hir wo endure,
Nor of my wo, nor of myne aduenture?
And I wnworthy ame for to attane
To hir presens, nor dare I noght complane.
Bot, hart, sen at yow knawith she is here,
That of thi lyue and of thi deith is stere,
Now is thi tyme, now help thi self at neid,
And the dewod of euery point of dred,
That cowardy be none In to the sen̄,
Fore and yow do, yow knowis thi peyne, I weyn;
Yow art wnable euer to attane
To hir mercy, or cum be ony mayne.
Tharfor y red hir thonk at yow disserue,
Or in hir presens lyk o knycht to sterf.”
With that confusit with an hewy thocht,
Wich ner his deith ful oft tyme haith hyme socht,
Deuoydit was his spritis and his gost,
He wist not of hyme self nor of his ost;
Bot one his horss, als still as ony ston.
When that the knychtis armyt war ilkon,
To warnnyng them vp goith the bludy sown,
And euery knyght vpone his horss is bown,
Twenty thousand armyt men of were.
The king that day he wold non armys bere;
His batellis ware deuysit euerilkon,
And them forbad out our the furdis to gon.
Bot frome that thei ther ennemys haith sen,
In to such wys thei couth them noght susten̄;
Bot ovr thei went vithouten more delay,
And can them one that oyer sid assay.
The red knycht still in to his hewy thoght
Was hufyng ȝit apone the furd, & noght
Wist of hime self; with that a harrold com,
And sone the knycht he be the brydill nom,
Sayng, “awalk! It is no tyme to slep;
Your worschip more expedient vare to kep.”
No word he spak, so prikith hyme the smart
Of hevynes, that stood vnto his hart.
Two screwis cam with that, of quhich on̄
The knychtis sheld rycht frome his hals haith ton̄;
That vthir watter takith atte last,
And in the knychtis wentail haith It cast;
When that he felt the vatter that vas cold,
He wonk, and gan about hyme to behold,
And thinkith how he sumquhat haith mysgon̄.
With that his spere In to his hand haith ton,
Goith to the feild withouten vordis more;
So was he vare whare that there cam before,
O manly man he was in to al thing,
And clepit was the first conquest king.
The Red knycht with spuris smat the sted,
The tother cam, that of hyme hath no drede;
With ferss curag ben the knychtis met,
The king his spere apone the knycht hath set,
That al in peciss flaw in to the felde;
His hawbrek helpit, suppos he had no scheld;
And he the king in to the scheld haith ton,
That horss and man boith to the erd ar gon.
Than to the knycht he cummyth, that haith tan
His sheld, to hyme deliuerith It ayane,
Besiching hyme that of his Ignorance
That knew hyme nat, as takith no grewance.
The knycht his sche[l]d but mor delay haith tak,
And let hyme go, and no thing to hyme spak.
That thei the wich that fo at erth haith sen
Ther lord, the first conquest king, y men̄,
In haist thei cam, as that thei var agrevit,
And manfully thei haith ther king Releuit.
He for the feld can them for to prouide,
Wich ware to few aȝaine the gret affere
Of galiot ȝit to susten the were.
The knychtis al out of the cete ross
Of melyholt, and to the semble gois.
And the lady haith, in to sacret wyss,
Gart for hir knycht and presoner dewyss
In red al thing, that ganith for the were;
His curseir red, so was boith scheld & spere.
30
With glaid desir apone his cursour start;
Towart the feld anon he gan to ryd,
And in o plan houit one reuer syde.
This knycht, the wich that long haith ben in cag,
He grew in to o fresch & new curage,
Seing the morow blythfull and amen,
The med, the Reuer, and the vodis gren,
The knychtis in armys them arayinge,
The baneris ayaine the feld displayng.
His ȝouth in strenth and in prosperytee,
And syne of lust the gret aduersytee,
Thus in his thocht remembryng at the last,
Efterward one syd he gan his Ey to cast,
Whar our a bertes lying haith he sen
Out to the feld luking was the qwen;
Sudandly with that his gost astart
Of loue anone haith caucht hyme by the hart;
Than saith he, “How long shall It be so,
Loue, at yow shall wirk me al this wo?
Apone this wyss to be Infortunat,
Hir for to serue the wich thei no thing wate
What sufferance I in hir wo endure,
Nor of my wo, nor of myne aduenture?
And I wnworthy ame for to attane
To hir presens, nor dare I noght complane.
Bot, hart, sen at yow knawith she is here,
That of thi lyue and of thi deith is stere,
Now is thi tyme, now help thi self at neid,
And the dewod of euery point of dred,
That cowardy be none In to the sen̄,
Fore and yow do, yow knowis thi peyne, I weyn;
Yow art wnable euer to attane
To hir mercy, or cum be ony mayne.
31
Or in hir presens lyk o knycht to sterf.”
With that confusit with an hewy thocht,
Wich ner his deith ful oft tyme haith hyme socht,
Deuoydit was his spritis and his gost,
He wist not of hyme self nor of his ost;
Bot one his horss, als still as ony ston.
When that the knychtis armyt war ilkon,
To warnnyng them vp goith the bludy sown,
And euery knyght vpone his horss is bown,
Twenty thousand armyt men of were.
The king that day he wold non armys bere;
His batellis ware deuysit euerilkon,
And them forbad out our the furdis to gon.
Bot frome that thei ther ennemys haith sen,
In to such wys thei couth them noght susten̄;
Bot ovr thei went vithouten more delay,
And can them one that oyer sid assay.
The red knycht still in to his hewy thoght
Was hufyng ȝit apone the furd, & noght
Wist of hime self; with that a harrold com,
And sone the knycht he be the brydill nom,
Sayng, “awalk! It is no tyme to slep;
Your worschip more expedient vare to kep.”
No word he spak, so prikith hyme the smart
Of hevynes, that stood vnto his hart.
Two screwis cam with that, of quhich on̄
The knychtis sheld rycht frome his hals haith ton̄;
That vthir watter takith atte last,
And in the knychtis wentail haith It cast;
When that he felt the vatter that vas cold,
He wonk, and gan about hyme to behold,
And thinkith how he sumquhat haith mysgon̄.
With that his spere In to his hand haith ton,
Goith to the feild withouten vordis more;
So was he vare whare that there cam before,
32
And clepit was the first conquest king.
The Red knycht with spuris smat the sted,
The tother cam, that of hyme hath no drede;
With ferss curag ben the knychtis met,
The king his spere apone the knycht hath set,
That al in peciss flaw in to the felde;
His hawbrek helpit, suppos he had no scheld;
And he the king in to the scheld haith ton,
That horss and man boith to the erd ar gon.
Than to the knycht he cummyth, that haith tan
His sheld, to hyme deliuerith It ayane,
Besiching hyme that of his Ignorance
That knew hyme nat, as takith no grewance.
The knycht his sche[l]d but mor delay haith tak,
And let hyme go, and no thing to hyme spak.
That thei the wich that fo at erth haith sen
Ther lord, the first conquest king, y men̄,
In haist thei cam, as that thei var agrevit,
And manfully thei haith ther king Releuit.
[A]nd Arthuris folk, that lykith not to byde,
In goith the spuris in the stedis syde;
To-giddir thar assemblit al the ost,
At whois meting many o knycht was lost.
The batell was richt crewell to behold,
Of knychtis wich that haith there lyvis ȝolde.
One to the hart the spere goith throw the scheld,
The knychtis gaping lyith in the feld.
The red knycht, byrnyng in loues fyre,
Goith to o knycht, als swift as ony vyre,
The wich he persit throuch & throuch the hart;
The spere is went; with that anon he start,
And out o suerd in to his hond he tais;
Lyk to o lyone in to the feld he gais,
In to his Rag smyting to and fro
Fro sum the arm, fro sum the nek in two,
Sum in the feild lying is in swoun,
And sum his suerd goith to the belt al doun̄e.
For qwhen that he beholdith to the qwen,
Who had ben thore his manhed to haue sen,
His doing in to armys and his myght,
Shold say in world war not such o wight.
His falouschip siche comfort of his dede
Haith ton, that thei ther ennemys ne dreid;
But can them self ay manfoly conten
In to the stour, that hard was to susten;
For galyot was O pasing multitude
Of prewit men in armys that war gude,
The wich can with o fresch curag assaill
Ther ennemys that day In to batell;
That ne ware not the vorschip & manhede
Of the red knycht, in perell and in dreid
Arthuris folk had ben, vith-outen vere;
Set thei var good, thei var of smal powere.
And gawan, wich gart bryng hyme self befor
To the bertes, set he was vondit sore,
Whar the qwen vas, and whar that he mycht see
The manere of the ost and assemble;
And when that he the gret manhed haith sen
Of the red knycht, he saith one to the qwen,
“Madem, ȝone knyght in to the armys Rede,
Nor neuer I hard nore saw in to no sted
O knycht, the wich that in to schortar space
In armys haith mor forton nore mor grace;
Nore bettir doith boith with sper and scheild,
He is the hed and comfort of our feild.”
“Now, sir, I traist that neuer more vas sen,
Ne man in feild more knyghtly hyme conten;
I pray to hyme that euery thing hath cure,
Saif hyme fro deth or wykit aduenture.”
The feild It was rycht perellus and strong
On boith the sydis, and continewit long,
Ay from the sone the varldis face gan licht
Whill he was gone & cumyne vas the nycht;
And than o forss thei mycht It not asstart,
On euery syd behouit them depart.
The feild is don and ham goith euery knycht,
And prevaly, unwist of any wicht,
The way the red knycht to the cete taiis,
As he had hecht, & in his chambre gais.
When arthure hard how the knycht Is gon,
He blamyt sore his lordis euerilk one;
And oft he haith remembrit in his thoght,
What multitud that galiot had broght;
Seing his folk that ware so ewil arayt,
In to his mynd he stondith al affrayt,
And saith, “I traist ful suth It sal be founde
My drem Richt as the clerkis gan expound;
For why my men failȝeis now at neid,
My self, my londe, in perell and in dreide.”
And galiot vpone hie worschip set,
And his consell anon he gart be fet,
To them he saith, “with arthur weil ȝe see
How that It stant, and to qwhat degre,
Aȝanis ws that he is no poware;
Wharfor, me think, no worschip to ws ware
In conqueryng of hyme, nor of his londe,
He haith no strenth, he may ws not vithstonde.
Wharfor, me think, It best is to delay,
And resput hyme for a tuelmon̄eth day,
Whill that he may assemble al his myght;
Than is mor worschip aȝanis hyme to ficht;”
And thus concludit, thoght hyme for the best.
The very knychtis passing to there Rest.
Of melyholt the ladeis knychtis ilkone
Went home, and to hir presens ar thei gon;
At qwhome ful sone than gan scho to Inquere,
And al the maner of the ostis till spere;
How that It went, and in what maner wyss,
Who haith most worschip, & who is most to pryss?
“Madem,” quod thei, “O knycht was In the feild,
Of Red was al his armour and his sheld,
Whois manhed can al otheris to exced,
May nan report in armys half his deid;
Ne wor his worschip, shortly to conclud,
Our folk of help had ben al destitud.
He haith the thonk, the vorschip in hyme lyis,
That we the feld defendit in sich wyss.”
The lady thane one to hir self haith thocht,
“Whether Is ȝone my presonar, ore noght?
The suthfastness that shal y wit onon.”
When euery wight vn to ther Rest war gon,
She clepith one hir cwsynes ful nere
Wich was to hir most speciall and dere,
And saith to hir, “qwheyar if yone bee
Our presoner, my consell Is we see.”
With that the maden In hir hand hath ton
O torche, and to the stabille ar thei gon;
And fond his sted lying at the ground,
Wich wery was, ywet with mony wounde.
The maden saith, “vpone this horss is sen,
He in the place quhar strokis was hath ben̄;
And ȝhit the horss It is nocht wich that hee
Furth with hyme hade;”—the lady said, “per dee,
He vsyt haith mo horss than one or two;
I red one to his armys at we go.”
Tharwith one to his armys ar thei went;
Thei fond his helm, thei fond his hawbrek rent,
Thei fond his scheld was fruschit al to nocht;
At schort, his armour In sich wyss vas vrocht
In euery place, that no thing was left haill,
Nore neuer eft accordith to bataill.
Than saith the lady to hir cusyness,
“What sal we say, what of this mater gess?”
“Madem, I say, thei have nocht ben abwsyt;
He that them bur, schortly, he has them vsyt.”
“That may ȝe say, suppos the best that lewis,
Or most of worschip in til armys prewis,
Or ȝhit haith ben in ony tyme beforn̄,
Had them in feld in his mast curag born̄.”
“Now,” quod the lady, “will we pass, and see
The knycht hyme self, and ther the suth may we
Knaw of this thing.” Incontynent them boith
Thir ladeis vn to his chambre goith.
The knycht al wery fallyng was on slep;
This maden passith In, & takith kep.
Sche sauch his brest with al his schowderis bare,
That bludy war and woundit her and thare;
His face was al to hurt and al to schent,
His newis swellyng war and al to Rent.
Sche smylyt a lyt, and to hir lady said,
“It semyth weill this knycht hath ben assaid.”
The lady sauch, and rewit in hir thoght
The knychtis worschip wich that he haith vroght.
In hire Remembrance loues fyre dart
With hot desyre hir smat one to the hart;
And then a quhill, with-outen wordis mo,
In to hir mynd thinking to and fro,
She studeit so, and at the last abraid
Out of hir thocht, and sudandly thus said,
“With-draw,” quod she, “one syd a lyt the lyght,
Or that I pass that I may kyss the knyght.”
“Madem,” quod sche, “what is It at ȝe men̄?
Of hie worschip our mekill have ȝe sen̄
So sone to be supprisit with o thoght.
What is It at ȝhe think? preswm ȝe noght
That if yon knycht wil walkin, and persaif,
He shal yarof no thing bot ewill consaif;
In his entent Ruput yow therby
The ablare to al lychtness and foly?
And blam the more al vtheris in his mynd,
If your gret wit in sich desire he fynde?”
“Nay,” quod the lady, “no thing may I do
For sich o knycht may be defam me to.”
“Madem, I wot that for to loue yone knycht,
Considir his fame, his worschip, and his mycht;
And to begyne as worschip wil dewyss,
Syne he ayaine mycht lowe yow one such wyss,
And hold yow for his lady and his loue,
It war to yow no maner of Reprwe.
But qwhat if he appelit be and thret,
His hart to lowe and ellis whar yset?
And wel y wot, madem, if It be so,
His hart hyme sal not suffir to loue two,
For noble hart wil have no dowbilness;
If It be fo, ȝhe tyne yowr low, I gess;
Than is your self, than is your loue Refusit,
Your fam is hurt, your gladness is conclusit.
My consell is, therfore, you to absten
Whill that to yow the werray Rycht be sen̄
Of his entent, the wich ful son ȝhe may
Have knawlag, If yow lykith to assay.”
So mokil to hir lady haith she vroght
That at that tyme she haith Returnyt her thocht,
And to hir chambre went, withouten more,
Whar loue of new assaith hir ful sore.
So well long thei speking of the knycht,
Hir cusynace hath don al at she mycht
For to expel that thing out of hir thocht;
It wil not be, hir labour Is for nocht.
Now leif we hir In to hir newest pan,
And to arthur we wil retwrn agan̄.
In goith the spuris in the stedis syde;
To-giddir thar assemblit al the ost,
At whois meting many o knycht was lost.
The batell was richt crewell to behold,
Of knychtis wich that haith there lyvis ȝolde.
One to the hart the spere goith throw the scheld,
The knychtis gaping lyith in the feld.
The red knycht, byrnyng in loues fyre,
Goith to o knycht, als swift as ony vyre,
The wich he persit throuch & throuch the hart;
The spere is went; with that anon he start,
And out o suerd in to his hond he tais;
Lyk to o lyone in to the feld he gais,
33
Fro sum the arm, fro sum the nek in two,
Sum in the feild lying is in swoun,
And sum his suerd goith to the belt al doun̄e.
For qwhen that he beholdith to the qwen,
Who had ben thore his manhed to haue sen,
His doing in to armys and his myght,
Shold say in world war not such o wight.
His falouschip siche comfort of his dede
Haith ton, that thei ther ennemys ne dreid;
But can them self ay manfoly conten
In to the stour, that hard was to susten;
For galyot was O pasing multitude
Of prewit men in armys that war gude,
The wich can with o fresch curag assaill
Ther ennemys that day In to batell;
That ne ware not the vorschip & manhede
Of the red knycht, in perell and in dreid
Arthuris folk had ben, vith-outen vere;
Set thei var good, thei var of smal powere.
And gawan, wich gart bryng hyme self befor
To the bertes, set he was vondit sore,
Whar the qwen vas, and whar that he mycht see
The manere of the ost and assemble;
And when that he the gret manhed haith sen
Of the red knycht, he saith one to the qwen,
“Madem, ȝone knyght in to the armys Rede,
Nor neuer I hard nore saw in to no sted
O knycht, the wich that in to schortar space
In armys haith mor forton nore mor grace;
Nore bettir doith boith with sper and scheild,
He is the hed and comfort of our feild.”
“Now, sir, I traist that neuer more vas sen,
Ne man in feild more knyghtly hyme conten;
34
Saif hyme fro deth or wykit aduenture.”
The feild It was rycht perellus and strong
On boith the sydis, and continewit long,
Ay from the sone the varldis face gan licht
Whill he was gone & cumyne vas the nycht;
And than o forss thei mycht It not asstart,
On euery syd behouit them depart.
The feild is don and ham goith euery knycht,
And prevaly, unwist of any wicht,
The way the red knycht to the cete taiis,
As he had hecht, & in his chambre gais.
When arthure hard how the knycht Is gon,
He blamyt sore his lordis euerilk one;
And oft he haith remembrit in his thoght,
What multitud that galiot had broght;
Seing his folk that ware so ewil arayt,
In to his mynd he stondith al affrayt,
And saith, “I traist ful suth It sal be founde
My drem Richt as the clerkis gan expound;
For why my men failȝeis now at neid,
My self, my londe, in perell and in dreide.”
And galiot vpone hie worschip set,
And his consell anon he gart be fet,
To them he saith, “with arthur weil ȝe see
How that It stant, and to qwhat degre,
Aȝanis ws that he is no poware;
Wharfor, me think, no worschip to ws ware
In conqueryng of hyme, nor of his londe,
He haith no strenth, he may ws not vithstonde.
Wharfor, me think, It best is to delay,
And resput hyme for a tuelmon̄eth day,
Whill that he may assemble al his myght;
Than is mor worschip aȝanis hyme to ficht;”
35
The very knychtis passing to there Rest.
Of melyholt the ladeis knychtis ilkone
Went home, and to hir presens ar thei gon;
At qwhome ful sone than gan scho to Inquere,
And al the maner of the ostis till spere;
How that It went, and in what maner wyss,
Who haith most worschip, & who is most to pryss?
“Madem,” quod thei, “O knycht was In the feild,
Of Red was al his armour and his sheld,
Whois manhed can al otheris to exced,
May nan report in armys half his deid;
Ne wor his worschip, shortly to conclud,
Our folk of help had ben al destitud.
He haith the thonk, the vorschip in hyme lyis,
That we the feld defendit in sich wyss.”
The lady thane one to hir self haith thocht,
“Whether Is ȝone my presonar, ore noght?
The suthfastness that shal y wit onon.”
When euery wight vn to ther Rest war gon,
She clepith one hir cwsynes ful nere
Wich was to hir most speciall and dere,
And saith to hir, “qwheyar if yone bee
Our presoner, my consell Is we see.”
With that the maden In hir hand hath ton
O torche, and to the stabille ar thei gon;
And fond his sted lying at the ground,
Wich wery was, ywet with mony wounde.
The maden saith, “vpone this horss is sen,
He in the place quhar strokis was hath ben̄;
And ȝhit the horss It is nocht wich that hee
Furth with hyme hade;”—the lady said, “per dee,
36
I red one to his armys at we go.”
Tharwith one to his armys ar thei went;
Thei fond his helm, thei fond his hawbrek rent,
Thei fond his scheld was fruschit al to nocht;
At schort, his armour In sich wyss vas vrocht
In euery place, that no thing was left haill,
Nore neuer eft accordith to bataill.
Than saith the lady to hir cusyness,
“What sal we say, what of this mater gess?”
“Madem, I say, thei have nocht ben abwsyt;
He that them bur, schortly, he has them vsyt.”
“That may ȝe say, suppos the best that lewis,
Or most of worschip in til armys prewis,
Or ȝhit haith ben in ony tyme beforn̄,
Had them in feld in his mast curag born̄.”
“Now,” quod the lady, “will we pass, and see
The knycht hyme self, and ther the suth may we
Knaw of this thing.” Incontynent them boith
Thir ladeis vn to his chambre goith.
The knycht al wery fallyng was on slep;
This maden passith In, & takith kep.
Sche sauch his brest with al his schowderis bare,
That bludy war and woundit her and thare;
His face was al to hurt and al to schent,
His newis swellyng war and al to Rent.
Sche smylyt a lyt, and to hir lady said,
“It semyth weill this knycht hath ben assaid.”
The lady sauch, and rewit in hir thoght
The knychtis worschip wich that he haith vroght.
In hire Remembrance loues fyre dart
With hot desyre hir smat one to the hart;
And then a quhill, with-outen wordis mo,
In to hir mynd thinking to and fro,
She studeit so, and at the last abraid
Out of hir thocht, and sudandly thus said,
37
Or that I pass that I may kyss the knyght.”
“Madem,” quod sche, “what is It at ȝe men̄?
Of hie worschip our mekill have ȝe sen̄
So sone to be supprisit with o thoght.
What is It at ȝhe think? preswm ȝe noght
That if yon knycht wil walkin, and persaif,
He shal yarof no thing bot ewill consaif;
In his entent Ruput yow therby
The ablare to al lychtness and foly?
And blam the more al vtheris in his mynd,
If your gret wit in sich desire he fynde?”
“Nay,” quod the lady, “no thing may I do
For sich o knycht may be defam me to.”
“Madem, I wot that for to loue yone knycht,
Considir his fame, his worschip, and his mycht;
And to begyne as worschip wil dewyss,
Syne he ayaine mycht lowe yow one such wyss,
And hold yow for his lady and his loue,
It war to yow no maner of Reprwe.
But qwhat if he appelit be and thret,
His hart to lowe and ellis whar yset?
And wel y wot, madem, if It be so,
His hart hyme sal not suffir to loue two,
For noble hart wil have no dowbilness;
If It be fo, ȝhe tyne yowr low, I gess;
Than is your self, than is your loue Refusit,
Your fam is hurt, your gladness is conclusit.
My consell is, therfore, you to absten
Whill that to yow the werray Rycht be sen̄
Of his entent, the wich ful son ȝhe may
Have knawlag, If yow lykith to assay.”
So mokil to hir lady haith she vroght
That at that tyme she haith Returnyt her thocht,
38
Whar loue of new assaith hir ful sore.
So well long thei speking of the knycht,
Hir cusynace hath don al at she mycht
For to expel that thing out of hir thocht;
It wil not be, hir labour Is for nocht.
Now leif we hir In to hir newest pan,
And to arthur we wil retwrn agan̄.
EXPLICIT PRIMUS LIBER, INCIPIT sECUNDUS.
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