 | Middle English metrical romances |  |
877
SIR CLEGES
Will ye lystyn, and ye schyll here
Of eldyrs that before vs were,
Bothe hardy and wyȝt,
In the tyme of kynge Vtere,
That was ffadyr of kynge A[r]thyr,
A semely man in siȝt.
He hade a knyȝt, þat hight Sir Cleges;
A dowtyar was non of dedis
Of the Rovnd Tabull right.
He was a man of hight stature
And therto full fayre of ffeture,
And also of gret myȝt.
Of eldyrs that before vs were,
Bothe hardy and wyȝt,
878
That was ffadyr of kynge A[r]thyr,
A semely man in siȝt.
He hade a knyȝt, þat hight Sir Cleges;
A dowtyar was non of dedis
Of the Rovnd Tabull right.
He was a man of hight stature
And therto full fayre of ffeture,
And also of gret myȝt.
A corteysear knyȝt than he was on
In all the lond was there non;
He was so ientyll and fre.
To men þat traveld in londe of ware
And wern fallyn in pouerté bare,
He yaue both gold and ffee.
The pore pepull he wold releve,
And no man wold he greve;
Meke of maners was hee.
His mete was ffre to euery man
That wold com and vesite hym than;
He was full of plenté.
In all the lond was there non;
He was so ientyll and fre.
To men þat traveld in londe of ware
And wern fallyn in pouerté bare,
He yaue both gold and ffee.
The pore pepull he wold releve,
And no man wold he greve;
Meke of maners was hee.
His mete was ffre to euery man
That wold com and vesite hym than;
He was full of plenté.
The knyȝt hade a ientyll wyffe;
There miȝt non better bere life,
And mery sche was on siȝte.
Dame Clarys hight þat ffayre lady;
Sche was full good, sekyrly,
And gladsum both day and nyȝte.
Almus gret sche wold geve,
The pore pepull to releue;
Sche cherisschid many a wiȝt.
For them hade no man dere,
Rech ar pore wethyr they were;
They ded euer ryght.
There miȝt non better bere life,
And mery sche was on siȝte.
Dame Clarys hight þat ffayre lady;
Sche was full good, sekyrly,
And gladsum both day and nyȝte.
Almus gret sche wold geve,
The pore pepull to releue;
Sche cherisschid many a wiȝt.
For them hade no man dere,
Rech ar pore wethyr they were;
They ded euer ryght.
879
Euery yer Sir Cleges wold
At Cristemas a gret ffest hold
In worschepe of þat daye,
As ryall in all thynge
As he hade ben a kynge,
Forsoth, as i you saye.
Rech and pore in þe cuntré abouȝt
Schuld be there, wythoutton douȝtt;
There wold no man say nay.
Mynsstrellis wold not be behynde,
For there they myȝt most myrthis fynd;
There wold they be aye.
At Cristemas a gret ffest hold
In worschepe of þat daye,
As ryall in all thynge
As he hade ben a kynge,
Forsoth, as i you saye.
Rech and pore in þe cuntré abouȝt
Schuld be there, wythoutton douȝtt;
There wold no man say nay.
Mynsstrellis wold not be behynde,
For there they myȝt most myrthis fynd;
There wold they be aye.
Mynsstrellys, whan þe ffest was don,
Wythoutton yeftis schuld not gon,
And þat bothe rech and good:
Hors, robis, and rech ryngis,
Gold, siluer, and othyr thyngis,
To mend wyth her modde.
Ten yere sech ffest he helde
In the worschepe of Mari myld
And for Hym þat dyed on the rode.
Be that, his good began to slake
For the gret ffestis that he dede make,
The knyȝt ientyll of blode.
Wythoutton yeftis schuld not gon,
And þat bothe rech and good:
Hors, robis, and rech ryngis,
Gold, siluer, and othyr thyngis,
To mend wyth her modde.
Ten yere sech ffest he helde
In the worschepe of Mari myld
And for Hym þat dyed on the rode.
Be that, his good began to slake
For the gret ffestis that he dede make,
The knyȝt ientyll of blode.
To hold the feste he wold not lett;
His maners he ded to wede sett;
He thowȝt hem out to quyȝtt.
Thus he ffestyd many a yere
Many a knyȝt and squire
In the name of God all-myȝt.
So at the last, the soth to say,
All his good was spent awaye;
Than hade he but lyȝt.
Thowe his good were ner[h]and leste,
Yet he thowȝt to make a feste;
In God he hopyd ryght.
His maners he ded to wede sett;
He thowȝt hem out to quyȝtt.
Thus he ffestyd many a yere
Many a knyȝt and squire
In the name of God all-myȝt.
So at the last, the soth to say,
All his good was spent awaye;
Than hade he but lyȝt.
Thowe his good were ner[h]and leste,
880
In God he hopyd ryght.
This rialté he made than aye,
Tyll his maneris wern all awaye;
Hym was lefte but on,
And þat was of so lytyll a value
That he and his wyffe trewe
Miȝt not leve thereon.
His men that wern mekyll of pride
Gan slake awaye on euery syde;
With hym there wold dwell non
But he and his childyrn too;
Than was his hart in mech woo,
And he made mech mone.
Tyll his maneris wern all awaye;
Hym was lefte but on,
And þat was of so lytyll a value
That he and his wyffe trewe
Miȝt not leve thereon.
His men that wern mekyll of pride
Gan slake awaye on euery syde;
With hym there wold dwell non
But he and his childyrn too;
Than was his hart in mech woo,
And he made mech mone.
And yt befell on Crestemas evyn,
The knyȝt bethowȝt hym full evyn;
He dwellyd be Kardyfe syde.
Whan yt drowe toward the novn,
Sir Cleges fell in svounnyng sone,
Whan he thowȝt on þat tyde
And on his myrthys þat he schuld hold
And howe he hade his maners sold
And his renttis wyde.
Mech sorowe made he there;
He wrong his handis and wepyd sore,
And ffellyd was his pride.
The knyȝt bethowȝt hym full evyn;
He dwellyd be Kardyfe syde.
Whan yt drowe toward the novn,
Sir Cleges fell in svounnyng sone,
Whan he thowȝt on þat tyde
And on his myrthys þat he schuld hold
And howe he hade his maners sold
And his renttis wyde.
Mech sorowe made he there;
He wrong his handis and wepyd sore,
And ffellyd was his pride.
And as he walkyd vpp and dovn
Sore syȝthyng, he hard a sovne
Of dyvers mynstrelsé:
Of trompus, pypus, and claraneris,
Of harpis, luttis, and getarnys,
A sitole and sawtré,
Many carellys and gret davnsyng;
On euery syde he harde syngyng,
In euery place, trewly.
He wrong his hondis and wepyd sore;
Mech mone made he there,
Syghynge petusly.
Sore syȝthyng, he hard a sovne
Of dyvers mynstrelsé:
Of trompus, pypus, and claraneris,
881
A sitole and sawtré,
Many carellys and gret davnsyng;
On euery syde he harde syngyng,
In euery place, trewly.
He wrong his hondis and wepyd sore;
Mech mone made he there,
Syghynge petusly.
“Lord Ihesu,” he seyd, “Hevyn-kynge,
Of nowȝt Thou madyst all thynge;
I thanke The of Thy sond.
The myrth that i was wonte to make!
At thys tyme for Thy sake,
I fede both fre and bond.
All that euer cam in Thy name
Wantyd neythyr wyld nere tame
That was in my lond;
Of rech metis and drynkkys good
That myȝt be gott, be the rode,
For coste i wold not lend.”
Of nowȝt Thou madyst all thynge;
I thanke The of Thy sond.
The myrth that i was wonte to make!
At thys tyme for Thy sake,
I fede both fre and bond.
All that euer cam in Thy name
Wantyd neythyr wyld nere tame
That was in my lond;
Of rech metis and drynkkys good
That myȝt be gott, be the rode,
For coste i wold not lend.”
As he stod in mornyng soo,
His good wyffe cam hym vnto,
And in hyr armys hym hent.
Sche kyssyd hym wyth glad chere;
“My lord,” sche seyd, “my trewe fere,
I hard what ye ment.
Ye se will, yt helpyth nowȝt
To make sorowe in youre thowȝt;
Therefore i pray you stynte.
Let youre sorowe awaye gon,
And thanke God of hys lone
Of all þat He hath sent.
His good wyffe cam hym vnto,
And in hyr armys hym hent.
Sche kyssyd hym wyth glad chere;
“My lord,” sche seyd, “my trewe fere,
I hard what ye ment.
Ye se will, yt helpyth nowȝt
To make sorowe in youre thowȝt;
Therefore i pray you stynte.
Let youre sorowe awaye gon,
882
Of all þat He hath sent.
For Crystis sake, i pray you blyne
Of all the sorowe þat ye ben in,
In onor of thys daye.
Nowe euery man schuld be glade;
Therefore i pray you be not sade;
Thynke what i you saye.
Go we to oure mete swyth
And let vs make vs glade and blyth,
As wele as we may.
I hold yt for the best, trewly;
For youre mete is all redy,
I hope, to youre paye.”
Of all the sorowe þat ye ben in,
In onor of thys daye.
Nowe euery man schuld be glade;
Therefore i pray you be not sade;
Thynke what i you saye.
Go we to oure mete swyth
And let vs make vs glade and blyth,
As wele as we may.
I hold yt for the best, trewly;
For youre mete is all redy,
I hope, to youre paye.”
“I asent,” seyd he tho,
And in with hyr he gan goo,
And sumwatt mendyd hys chere.
But neuerþeles hys hart was sore,
And sche hym comforttyd more and more,
Hys sorewe away to stere.
So he began to waxe blyth
And whypyd away hys teris swyth,
That ran dovn be his lyre.
Than they wasschyd and went to mete
Wyth sech vitell as they myȝt gett
And made mery in fere.
And in with hyr he gan goo,
And sumwatt mendyd hys chere.
But neuerþeles hys hart was sore,
And sche hym comforttyd more and more,
Hys sorewe away to stere.
So he began to waxe blyth
And whypyd away hys teris swyth,
That ran dovn be his lyre.
Than they wasschyd and went to mete
Wyth sech vitell as they myȝt gett
And made mery in fere.
Whan they hade ete, the soth to saye,
Wyth myrth they droffe þe day away,
As will as they myȝt.
Wyth her chyldyrn play they ded
And after soper went to bede,
Whan yt was tyme of nyȝt.
And on the morowe they went to chirch,
Godis service for to werch,
As yt was reson and ryȝt.
[Up þei ros and went þeþer,
They and þer chylder togeþer,
When þei were redy dyȝht.]
Wyth myrth they droffe þe day away,
As will as they myȝt.
Wyth her chyldyrn play they ded
And after soper went to bede,
Whan yt was tyme of nyȝt.
And on the morowe they went to chirch,
883
As yt was reson and ryȝt.
[Up þei ros and went þeþer,
They and þer chylder togeþer,
When þei were redy dyȝht.]
Sir Cleges knelyd on his kne;
To Ihesu Crist prayed he
Becavse of his wiffe:
“Gracius Lord,” he seyd thoo,
“My wyffe and my chyldyrn too,
Kepe hem out of stryffe!”
The lady prayed for hym ayen
That God schuld kepe hym fro peyne
In euerlastyng lyf.
Whan service was don, hom they went,
And thanked God with god entent,
And put away penci[ffe].
To Ihesu Crist prayed he
Becavse of his wiffe:
“Gracius Lord,” he seyd thoo,
“My wyffe and my chyldyrn too,
Kepe hem out of stryffe!”
The lady prayed for hym ayen
That God schuld kepe hym fro peyne
In euerlastyng lyf.
Whan service was don, hom they went,
And thanked God with god entent,
And put away penci[ffe].
Whan he to hys place cam,
His care was will abatyd than;
Thereof he gan stynt.
He made his wife afore hym goo
And his chyldyrn both to;
Hymselfe alone went
Into a gardeyne there besyde,
And knelyd dovn in þat tyde
And prayed God veramend,
And thanked God wyth all hys hartt
Of his dysese and hys povertt,
That to hym was sent.
His care was will abatyd than;
Thereof he gan stynt.
He made his wife afore hym goo
And his chyldyrn both to;
Hymselfe alone went
Into a gardeyne there besyde,
And knelyd dovn in þat tyde
And prayed God veramend,
And thanked God wyth all hys hartt
Of his dysese and hys povertt,
That to hym was sent.
As he knelyd on hys knee
Vnderneth a chery-tre,
Makyng hys preyere,
He rawȝt a bowe ouer hys hede
And rosse vpe in that stede;
No lenger knelyd he there.
Whan þe bowe was in hys hand,
Grene leves thereon he fonde,
And rovnd beryse in fere.
He seyd, “Dere God in Trenyté,
What manere of beryse may þis be,
That grovyn þis tyme of yere?
Vnderneth a chery-tre,
Makyng hys preyere,
He rawȝt a bowe ouer hys hede
884
No lenger knelyd he there.
Whan þe bowe was in hys hand,
Grene leves thereon he fonde,
And rovnd beryse in fere.
He seyd, “Dere God in Trenyté,
What manere of beryse may þis be,
That grovyn þis tyme of yere?
Abowȝt þis tyme i sey neuer ere,
That any tre schuld frewȝt bere,
As for as i haue sowȝt.”
He thowȝt to taste yf he cowþe;
And on he put in his mowth,
And spare wold he nat.
After a chery þe reles was,
The best þat euer he ete in place,
Syn he was man wrowȝt.
A lytyll bowe he gan of-slyve,
And thowȝt to schewe yt to his wife,
And in he yt browȝt.
That any tre schuld frewȝt bere,
As for as i haue sowȝt.”
He thowȝt to taste yf he cowþe;
And on he put in his mowth,
And spare wold he nat.
After a chery þe reles was,
The best þat euer he ete in place,
Syn he was man wrowȝt.
A lytyll bowe he gan of-slyve,
And thowȝt to schewe yt to his wife,
And in he yt browȝt.
“Loo! dame, here ys newelté;
In oure gardeyne of a chery-tre
I fond yt, sekerly.
I am aferd yt ys tokynnyng
Of more harme that ys comynge;
For soth, thus thynkkyth me.”
[His wyfe seyd, “It is tokenyng
Off mour godness þat is comyng;
We schall haue mour plenté.]
But wethyr wee haue les or more,
Allwaye thanke we God therefore;
Yt ys best, trewly.”
In oure gardeyne of a chery-tre
I fond yt, sekerly.
I am aferd yt ys tokynnyng
Of more harme that ys comynge;
For soth, thus thynkkyth me.”
[His wyfe seyd, “It is tokenyng
Off mour godness þat is comyng;
We schall haue mour plenté.]
But wethyr wee haue les or more,
Allwaye thanke we God therefore;
Yt ys best, trewly.”
885
Than seyd the lady with good chere,
“Latt vs fyll a panyer
Of þis þat God hath sent.
To-morovn, whan þe day doþe spryng,
Ye schill to Cardyffe to þe kynge
And yeve hym to present;
And sech a yefte ye may haue there
That þe better wee may fare all þis yere,
I tell you, werament.”
Sir Cleges gravntyd sone thereto:
“To-morovn to Cardiffe will i goo,
After youre entent.”
“Latt vs fyll a panyer
Of þis þat God hath sent.
To-morovn, whan þe day doþe spryng,
Ye schill to Cardyffe to þe kynge
And yeve hym to present;
And sech a yefte ye may haue there
That þe better wee may fare all þis yere,
I tell you, werament.”
Sir Cleges gravntyd sone thereto:
“To-morovn to Cardiffe will i goo,
After youre entent.”
On the morovn, whan yt was lyȝt,
The lady hade a panere dyght;
Hyr eldest son callyd sche:
“Take vpp thys panyere goodly
And bere yt forth esyly
Wyth thy fadyr fre!”
Than Sir Cleges a staffe toke;
He hade non hors—so seyth þe boke—
To ryde on hys iorny,
Neythyr stede nere palfray,
But a staffe was hys hakenay,
As a man in pouerté.
The lady hade a panere dyght;
Hyr eldest son callyd sche:
“Take vpp thys panyere goodly
And bere yt forth esyly
Wyth thy fadyr fre!”
Than Sir Cleges a staffe toke;
He hade non hors—so seyth þe boke—
To ryde on hys iorny,
Neythyr stede nere palfray,
But a staffe was hys hakenay,
As a man in pouerté.
Sir Cleges and his son gent
The right waye to Cardiffe went
Vppon Cristemas daye.
To the castell he cam full right,
As they were to mete dyȝt,
Anon, the soth to saye.
In Sir Cleges thowȝt to goo,
But in pore clothyng was he tho
And in sympull araye.
The portere seyd full hastyly,
“Thou chorle, withdrawe þe smertly,
I rede the, without delaye;
The right waye to Cardiffe went
Vppon Cristemas daye.
To the castell he cam full right,
As they were to mete dyȝt,
Anon, the soth to saye.
In Sir Cleges thowȝt to goo,
But in pore clothyng was he tho
And in sympull araye.
886
“Thou chorle, withdrawe þe smertly,
I rede the, without delaye;
Ellys, be God and Seint Mari,
I schall breke thyne hede on high;
Go stond in beggeris rowȝt.
Yf þou com more inward,
It schall þe rewe afterward,
So i schall þe clowȝt.”
“Good sir,” seyd Sir Cleges tho,
“I pray you, lat me in goo
Nowe, without dowȝt.
The kynge i haue a present browȝtt
From Hym þat made all thynge of nowȝt;
Behold all abowȝt!”
I schall breke thyne hede on high;
Go stond in beggeris rowȝt.
Yf þou com more inward,
It schall þe rewe afterward,
So i schall þe clowȝt.”
“Good sir,” seyd Sir Cleges tho,
“I pray you, lat me in goo
Nowe, without dowȝt.
The kynge i haue a present browȝtt
From Hym þat made all thynge of nowȝt;
Behold all abowȝt!”
The porter to the panere went,
And the led vppe he hentt;
The cheryse he gan behold.
Will he wyst, for his comyng
Wyth þat present to þe kyng,
Gret yeftis haue he schuld.
“Be Hym,” he seyd, “that me bowȝt,
Into thys place comste þou nott,
As i am man of mold,
The thyrde part but þou graunte me
Of þat the kyng will yeve þe,
Wethyr yt be syluer or gold.”
And the led vppe he hentt;
The cheryse he gan behold.
Will he wyst, for his comyng
Wyth þat present to þe kyng,
Gret yeftis haue he schuld.
“Be Hym,” he seyd, “that me bowȝt,
Into thys place comste þou nott,
As i am man of mold,
The thyrde part but þou graunte me
Of þat the kyng will yeve þe,
Wethyr yt be syluer or gold.”
Sir Cleges seyd, “I asent.”
He yaue hym leve, and in he went,
Wythout more lettyng.
In he went a gret pace;
The vsschere at the hall-dore was
Wyth a staffe stondynge,
In poynte Cleges for to smyȝt:
“Goo bake, þou chorle,” he seyd, “full tyȝt,
Without teryyng!
I schall þe bette euery leth,
Hede and body, wythout greth,
Yf þou make more pressynge.”
He yaue hym leve, and in he went,
Wythout more lettyng.
In he went a gret pace;
The vsschere at the hall-dore was
887
In poynte Cleges for to smyȝt:
“Goo bake, þou chorle,” he seyd, “full tyȝt,
Without teryyng!
I schall þe bette euery leth,
Hede and body, wythout greth,
Yf þou make more pressynge.”
“Good sir,” seyd Sir Cleges than,
“For Hys loue þat made man,
Sese youre angrye mode!
I haue herr a present browȝt
From Hym þat made all thynge of nowȝt,
And dyed on the rode.
Thys nyȝt in my gardeyne yt grewe;
Behold wethyr it be false or trewe;
They be fayre and good.”
The vsschere lyfte vp þe lede smartly
And sawe the cheryse verily;
He marveld in his mode.
“For Hys loue þat made man,
Sese youre angrye mode!
I haue herr a present browȝt
From Hym þat made all thynge of nowȝt,
And dyed on the rode.
Thys nyȝt in my gardeyne yt grewe;
Behold wethyr it be false or trewe;
They be fayre and good.”
The vsschere lyfte vp þe lede smartly
And sawe the cheryse verily;
He marveld in his mode.
The vsschere seyd, “Be Mari swet,
Chorle, þou comste not in yett,
I tell þe sekyrly,
But þou me graunte, without lesyng,
The thyrd part of þi wynnyng,
Wan þou comste ayen to me.”
Sir Cleges sey non othyr von;
Thereto he grauntyd sone anon;
It woll non othyr be.
Than Sir Cleges with hevi chere
Toke hys son and hys panere;
Into the hall went he.
Chorle, þou comste not in yett,
I tell þe sekyrly,
But þou me graunte, without lesyng,
The thyrd part of þi wynnyng,
Wan þou comste ayen to me.”
Sir Cleges sey non othyr von;
Thereto he grauntyd sone anon;
It woll non othyr be.
Than Sir Cleges with hevi chere
888
Into the hall went he.
The styward walkyd there withall
Amonge the lordis in þe hall,
That wern rech on wede.
To Sir Cleges he went boldly
And seyd, “Ho made the soo hardi
To com into thys stede?
Chorle,” he seyd, “þou art to bold!
Wythdrawe the with thy clothys old
Smartly, i the rede!”
“I haue,” he seyd, “a present browȝt
From oure Lord, that vs dere bowȝt
And on the rode gan blede.”
Amonge the lordis in þe hall,
That wern rech on wede.
To Sir Cleges he went boldly
And seyd, “Ho made the soo hardi
To com into thys stede?
Chorle,” he seyd, “þou art to bold!
Wythdrawe the with thy clothys old
Smartly, i the rede!”
“I haue,” he seyd, “a present browȝt
From oure Lord, that vs dere bowȝt
And on the rode gan blede.”
The panyere he toke the styward sone,
And he pullyd out the pyne [anon],
As smertly as he myȝt.
The styward seyd, “Be Mari dere,
Thys sawe i neuer thys tyme of yere,
Syn i was man wrowȝt.
Thou schalt com no nere the kynge,
But yf thowe graunt me myn askyng,
Be Hym þat me bowȝt:
The thyrd partt of the kyngis yefte,
That will i haue, be my threfte,
Ar forthere gost þou nott!”
And he pullyd out the pyne [anon],
As smertly as he myȝt.
The styward seyd, “Be Mari dere,
Thys sawe i neuer thys tyme of yere,
Syn i was man wrowȝt.
Thou schalt com no nere the kynge,
But yf thowe graunt me myn askyng,
Be Hym þat me bowȝt:
The thyrd partt of the kyngis yefte,
That will i haue, be my threfte,
Ar forthere gost þou nott!”
Sir Cleges bethowȝt hym than,
“My part ys lest bethwyxt þes men,
And i schall haue no thynge.
For my labor schall i nott get,
But yt be a melys mete.”
Thus he thouȝt syynge.
He seyd, “Harlot, hast þou noo tonge?
Speke to me and terye nat longe
And graunte me myn askynge,
Ar wyth a staffe i schall þe wake,
That thy rebys schall all toquake,
And put þe out hedlynge.”
“My part ys lest bethwyxt þes men,
And i schall haue no thynge.
For my labor schall i nott get,
But yt be a melys mete.”
Thus he thouȝt syynge.
889
Speke to me and terye nat longe
And graunte me myn askynge,
Ar wyth a staffe i schall þe wake,
That thy rebys schall all toquake,
And put þe out hedlynge.”
Sir Cleges sey non othyr bote,
But his askyng graunte he most,
And seyd with syynge sore,
“Whatsoeuer the kyng reward,
Ye schyll haue the thyrd part,
Be yt lesse ar more.”
[When Sir Cleges had seyd þat word,
The stewerd and he wer acorde
And seyd to hym no more.]
Vpe to the desse Sir Cleges went
Full soborly and with good entent,
Knelynge the kynge beforn.
But his askyng graunte he most,
And seyd with syynge sore,
“Whatsoeuer the kyng reward,
Ye schyll haue the thyrd part,
Be yt lesse ar more.”
[When Sir Cleges had seyd þat word,
The stewerd and he wer acorde
And seyd to hym no more.]
Vpe to the desse Sir Cleges went
Full soborly and with good entent,
Knelynge the kynge beforn.
Sir Cleges oncowyrd the panyere
And schewed the kynge the cheryse clere,
On the grovnd knelynge.
He seyd, “Ihesu, oure savyore,
Sent the thys frewȝt with honore
On thys erth growynge.”
The kynge sye thes cheryse newe;
He seyd, “I thanke Cryst Ihesu;
Thys ys a fayre neweynge.”
He commaunndyd Sir Cleges to mete,
And aftyrward he thowȝt with hym to speke,
Wythout any faylynge.
And schewed the kynge the cheryse clere,
On the grovnd knelynge.
He seyd, “Ihesu, oure savyore,
Sent the thys frewȝt with honore
On thys erth growynge.”
The kynge sye thes cheryse newe;
He seyd, “I thanke Cryst Ihesu;
Thys ys a fayre neweynge.”
He commaunndyd Sir Cleges to mete,
And aftyrward he thowȝt with hym to speke,
Wythout any faylynge.
The kynge thereof made a present
And sent yt to a lady gent
Was born in Cornewayle.
Sche was a lady bryght and schene
And also ryght will besene,
Wythout any fayle.
The cheryse were servyd thorowe þe hall;
Than seyd þe kynge, þat lord ryall:
“Be mery, be my cunnsell!
And he þat browȝt me þis present,
Full will i schall hym content;
Yt schall hym will avayle.”
And sent yt to a lady gent
Was born in Cornewayle.
890
And also ryght will besene,
Wythout any fayle.
The cheryse were servyd thorowe þe hall;
Than seyd þe kynge, þat lord ryall:
“Be mery, be my cunnsell!
And he þat browȝt me þis present,
Full will i schall hym content;
Yt schall hym will avayle.”
Whan all men were mery and glade,
Anon the kynge a squire bade,
“Brynge nowe me beforn
The pore man þat the cheryse browȝt!”
He cam anon and teryde natt,
Wythout any skorn.
Whan he cam before the kynge,
On knese he fell knelynge,
The lordis all beforn.
To the kyng he spake full styll;
“Lord,” he seyd, “watte ys your will?
I am youre man fre-born.”
Anon the kynge a squire bade,
“Brynge nowe me beforn
The pore man þat the cheryse browȝt!”
He cam anon and teryde natt,
Wythout any skorn.
Whan he cam before the kynge,
On knese he fell knelynge,
The lordis all beforn.
To the kyng he spake full styll;
“Lord,” he seyd, “watte ys your will?
I am youre man fre-born.”
“I thanke the hartyly,” seyd þe kynge,
“Of thy yeft and presentynge,
That þou haste nowe idoo.
Thowe haste onowryd all my fest,
Old and yonge, most and lest,
And worschepyd me also.
Wattsooeuer þou wolt haue,
I will the graunnte, so God me saue,
That thyne hart standyth to.
[Wheþer it be lond our lede
Or oþer gode, so God me spede,
How-þat-euer it go.”]
“Of thy yeft and presentynge,
That þou haste nowe idoo.
Thowe haste onowryd all my fest,
Old and yonge, most and lest,
And worschepyd me also.
Wattsooeuer þou wolt haue,
I will the graunnte, so God me saue,
That thyne hart standyth to.
[Wheþer it be lond our lede
Or oþer gode, so God me spede,
How-þat-euer it go.”]
891
He seyd, “Gramarcy, lech kynge!
Thys ys to me a comfortynge,
I tell you sekyrly.
For to haue lond or lede
Or othyr reches, so God me spede,
Yt ys to mech for me.
But seth i schall chese myselfe,
I pray you graunt me strokys xii
To dele were lykyth me;
Wyth my staffe to pay hem all
To myn aduerseryse in þe hall,
For Send Charyté.”
Thys ys to me a comfortynge,
I tell you sekyrly.
For to haue lond or lede
Or othyr reches, so God me spede,
Yt ys to mech for me.
But seth i schall chese myselfe,
I pray you graunt me strokys xii
To dele were lykyth me;
Wyth my staffe to pay hem all
To myn aduerseryse in þe hall,
For Send Charyté.”
Than aunsswerd Hewtar þe kynge,
“I repent my grauntynge
That i to þe made.
God!” he seyd, “so mott i thee,
Thowe haddyst be better haue gold or fee;
More nede thereto þou hade.”
Sir Cleges seyd with awaunt,
“Lord, yt ys youre owyn graunte;
Therefore i am full glade.”
The kynge was sory therefore,
But neuer the lesse he grauntyd hym there;
Therefore he was full sade.
“I repent my grauntynge
That i to þe made.
God!” he seyd, “so mott i thee,
Thowe haddyst be better haue gold or fee;
More nede thereto þou hade.”
Sir Cleges seyd with awaunt,
“Lord, yt ys youre owyn graunte;
Therefore i am full glade.”
The kynge was sory therefore,
But neuer the lesse he grauntyd hym there;
Therefore he was full sade.
Sir Cleges went into þe hall
Amonge þe gret lordis all,
Without any more.
He sowȝt after the prowȝd styward,
For to yeve hym hys reward,
Becavse he grevyd hym sore.
He yaffe the styward sech a stroke,
That he fell dovn as a bloke
Before all þat therein were,
And after he yafe hym othyr thre;
He seyd, “Sire, for thy corteci,
Smyȝte me no more!”
Amonge þe gret lordis all,
Without any more.
He sowȝt after the prowȝd styward,
For to yeve hym hys reward,
Becavse he grevyd hym sore.
He yaffe the styward sech a stroke,
That he fell dovn as a bloke
Before all þat therein were,
892
He seyd, “Sire, for thy corteci,
Smyȝte me no more!”
Out of the hall Sir Cleges went;
Moo to paye was hys entent,
Wythout any lett.
He went to þe vsschere in a breyde:
“Haue here sum strokys!” he seyde,
Whan he wyth hym mete,
So þat after and many a daye
He wold warn no man þe waye,
So grymly he hym grett.
Sir Cleges seyd, “Be my threft,
Thowe haste the thyrd part of my yefte,
As i the behight.”
Moo to paye was hys entent,
Wythout any lett.
He went to þe vsschere in a breyde:
“Haue here sum strokys!” he seyde,
Whan he wyth hym mete,
So þat after and many a daye
He wold warn no man þe waye,
So grymly he hym grett.
Sir Cleges seyd, “Be my threft,
Thowe haste the thyrd part of my yefte,
As i the behight.”
Than he went to the portere,
And iiii strokys he yaue hym there;
His part hade he tho,
So þat after and many a daye
He wold warn no man þe waye,
Neythyr to ryde nere goo.
The fyrste stroke he leyde hym on,
He brake in to hys schuldyr bon
And his on arme thereto.
Sir Cleges seyd, “Be my threfte,
Thowe haste the thyrd parte of my yefte;
The comnaunnte we made soo.”
And iiii strokys he yaue hym there;
His part hade he tho,
So þat after and many a daye
He wold warn no man þe waye,
Neythyr to ryde nere goo.
The fyrste stroke he leyde hym on,
He brake in to hys schuldyr bon
And his on arme thereto.
Sir Cleges seyd, “Be my threfte,
Thowe haste the thyrd parte of my yefte;
The comnaunnte we made soo.”
The kynge was sett in hys parlore
Wyth myrth, solas, and onor;
Sir Cleges thedyr went.
An harpor sange a gest be mowth
Of a knyȝt there be sowth,
Hymselffe, werament.
Than seyd the kynge to þe harpor,
“Were ys knyȝt Cleges, tell me here;
For þou hast wyde iwent.
Tell me trewth, yf þou can:
Knowyste þou of þat man?”
The harpor seyd, “Yee, iwysse:
Wyth myrth, solas, and onor;
Sir Cleges thedyr went.
An harpor sange a gest be mowth
Of a knyȝt there be sowth,
893
Than seyd the kynge to þe harpor,
“Were ys knyȝt Cleges, tell me here;
For þou hast wyde iwent.
Tell me trewth, yf þou can:
Knowyste þou of þat man?”
The harpor seyd, “Yee, iwysse:
Sum tyme forsoth i hym knewe;
He was a knyȝt of youris full trewe
And comly of gesture.
We mynstrellys mysse hym sekyrly,
Seth he went out of cunntré;
He was fayre of stature.”
The kynge sayd, “Be myn hede,
I trowe þat Sir Cleges be dede,
That i lovyd paramore.
Wold God he were alyfe;
I hade hym levere than othyr v,
For he was stronge in stowre.”
He was a knyȝt of youris full trewe
And comly of gesture.
We mynstrellys mysse hym sekyrly,
Seth he went out of cunntré;
He was fayre of stature.”
The kynge sayd, “Be myn hede,
I trowe þat Sir Cleges be dede,
That i lovyd paramore.
Wold God he were alyfe;
I hade hym levere than othyr v,
For he was stronge in stowre.”
Sir Cleges knelyd before þe kynge;
For he grauntyd hym hys askynge,
He thanked hym cortesly.
Specyally the kynge hym prayed,
To tell hym whye tho strokis he payed
To hys men thre.
He seyd þat he myȝt nat com inward,
“Tyll euerych i graunttyd þe thyrd partt
Of þat ye wold yeve me.
With þat i schuld haue nowȝt myselfe;
Werefore i yaue hem strokis xii;
Me thowt yt best, trewly.”
For he grauntyd hym hys askynge,
He thanked hym cortesly.
Specyally the kynge hym prayed,
To tell hym whye tho strokis he payed
To hys men thre.
He seyd þat he myȝt nat com inward,
“Tyll euerych i graunttyd þe thyrd partt
Of þat ye wold yeve me.
With þat i schuld haue nowȝt myselfe;
Werefore i yaue hem strokis xii;
Me thowt yt best, trewly.”
The lordes lowe, both old a[nd] yenge,
And all that wern with þe kynge,
They made solas inowe.
The kynge lowe, so he myȝt nott [sitte];
He seyd, “Thys ys a noble wyȝt,
To God i make a wove.”
He sent after his styward:
“Hast þou,” he seyd, “thy reward?
Be Cryst, he ys to lowe.”
The styward seyd with lokes grym,
[“I thynke neuer to haue ado with hym;]
The dewle hym born on a lowe!”
And all that wern with þe kynge,
894
The kynge lowe, so he myȝt nott [sitte];
He seyd, “Thys ys a noble wyȝt,
To God i make a wove.”
He sent after his styward:
“Hast þou,” he seyd, “thy reward?
Be Cryst, he ys to lowe.”
The styward seyd with lokes grym,
[“I thynke neuer to haue ado with hym;]
The dewle hym born on a lowe!”
The kynge seyd to hym than,
“What ys thy name? tell me, good man,
Nowe anon rygh[t]!”
“I higȝt Sir Cleges, soo haue i blysse;
My ryght name yt ys iwysse;
I was ȝoure owyn knyȝt.”
“Art thou Sir Cleges, þat servyd me,
That was soo ientyll and soo fre
And so stronge in fyght?”
“Ye, sir lord,” he seyd, “so mott i thee;
Tyll God in hevyn hade vesyte me,
Thus pouerte haue me dyȝt.”
“What ys thy name? tell me, good man,
Nowe anon rygh[t]!”
“I higȝt Sir Cleges, soo haue i blysse;
My ryght name yt ys iwysse;
I was ȝoure owyn knyȝt.”
“Art thou Sir Cleges, þat servyd me,
That was soo ientyll and soo fre
And so stronge in fyght?”
“Ye, sir lord,” he seyd, “so mott i thee;
Tyll God in hevyn hade vesyte me,
Thus pouerte haue me dyȝt.”
The kynge yaue hym anon ryȝt
All þat longed to a knyȝt,
To rech hys body wyth;
The castell of Cardyffe he yaue hym thoo
[With all þe pourtenans þerto,
To hold with pes and grythe.
Than he made hym hys stuerd
Of all hys londys afterwerd,
Off water, lond, and frythe.
A cowpe of gold he gafe hym blythe,
To bere to Dam Clarys, hys wyfe,
Tokenyng of ioy and myrthe.]
All þat longed to a knyȝt,
To rech hys body wyth;
The castell of Cardyffe he yaue hym thoo
[With all þe pourtenans þerto,
To hold with pes and grythe.
Than he made hym hys stuerd
Of all hys londys afterwerd,
Off water, lond, and frythe.
895
To bere to Dam Clarys, hys wyfe,
Tokenyng of ioy and myrthe.]
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