 | Guy of Warwick |  |
Now Gij him makeþ him alle ȝare
Into Inglond for to fare.
Tirri he wald lede wiþ him þo
& Oysel, his leman, þat he loued so.
To þe king þai wold hem aqueynti,
& gode þrowe wiþ him soiornni.
Biteche he him wille his castels alle,
So he him biþouȝt, ȝif it miȝt falle.
Into Inglond for to fare.
Tirri he wald lede wiþ him þo
& Oysel, his leman, þat he loued so.
To þe king þai wold hem aqueynti,
& gode þrowe wiþ him soiornni.
Biteche he him wille his castels alle,
So he him biþouȝt, ȝif it miȝt falle.
It was opon a somers day,
Gij out at a windowe lay.
To Tirri he spac of her fare,
Of her wele & of her care.
Wiþ þat com prikeing anon riȝt
A kniȝt: he semed wele, apliȝt,
Wele he semed he treuaild were.
Gij anon clept to him þere:
‘Sir kniȝt,’ he seyd, ‘whennes comestow?
& what þou sechest telle me now.’
Gij out at a windowe lay.
To Tirri he spac of her fare,
Of her wele & of her care.
Wiþ þat com prikeing anon riȝt
A kniȝt: he semed wele, apliȝt,
Wele he semed he treuaild were.
Gij anon clept to him þere:
‘Sir kniȝt,’ he seyd, ‘whennes comestow?
& what þou sechest telle me now.’
Þe kniȝt answerd, ‘ich-il þe telle,
& nouȝt þerof leyȝen y nille.
Tirri of Gurmoise y go secheinde,
Þerl sone Aubri wele doinde.
In mani londes ich haue him souȝt.’
‘Wharto?’ quaþ Gij, ‘hele it nouȝt.’
‘Sir,’ quaþ he, ‘y telle þe sone
Of a gret sorwe, þat is y-done.
Tirri serued þe douke Loyere:
Þe douke him loued, and held him dere,
& ȝaf him armes wiþ gret honour:
Kniȝt he bicome of gret valour.
Þe douke hadde a feir douhter for þe meistri,
Þat was y-ȝouen to þe douke of Paui:
Tirri hir loued & oway ladde,
Whar-þurch mani man þe deþ hadde.
Wiþ strengþe him folwed kniȝtes bliue:
Y not wher he be ȝete oliue.
& nouȝt þerof leyȝen y nille.
Tirri of Gurmoise y go secheinde,
Þerl sone Aubri wele doinde.
In mani londes ich haue him souȝt.’
‘Wharto?’ quaþ Gij, ‘hele it nouȝt.’
‘Sir,’ quaþ he, ‘y telle þe sone
Of a gret sorwe, þat is y-done.
Tirri serued þe douke Loyere:
Þe douke him loued, and held him dere,
& ȝaf him armes wiþ gret honour:
Kniȝt he bicome of gret valour.
Þe douke hadde a feir douhter for þe meistri,
Þat was y-ȝouen to þe douke of Paui:
Tirri hir loued & oway ladde,
Whar-þurch mani man þe deþ hadde.
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Y not wher he be ȝete oliue.
Þe douke Loyer biþouȝt him þo
Opon his fader for to go.
Þe douke Loyer wiþ him ladde
Þe douke of Paui þider he hadde
Wiþ his gode cheualrie,
Þe best of al Lombardye.
In Gormoise þerl bisett han he,
And destrud alle his cuntre.
Bot god me leue Tirri finde,
Þat he be his fader helpinde,
Al his lond him tit for-go:
No schal he it oȝain win neuer mo.
His fader no may armes weld,
No no lenge help himself for eld.’
Opon his fader for to go.
Þe douke Loyer wiþ him ladde
Þe douke of Paui þider he hadde
Wiþ his gode cheualrie,
Þe best of al Lombardye.
In Gormoise þerl bisett han he,
And destrud alle his cuntre.
Bot god me leue Tirri finde,
Þat he be his fader helpinde,
Al his lond him tit for-go:
No schal he it oȝain win neuer mo.
His fader no may armes weld,
No no lenge help himself for eld.’
‘Sir kniȝt,’ þan seyd sir Gij,
‘Her wiþ ous þou schalt herberwei,
& of þerl Tirri telle y þe
Ȝif ich ouȝt can, mi frende fre.’
‘Gramerci, sir,’ þan seyd he.
‘Of him to here leue war me.’
Gij hete his folk hastiliche
Þat hye him vnder-feng curteysliche.
‘Ich-il þe telle,’ quaþ sir Gij,
‘Þat y can of þerl Tirri.’
When þai hadde d[r]onken in þe halle,
& glad þai were, y telle ȝou, alle,
‘Her wiþ ous þou schalt herberwei,
& of þerl Tirri telle y þe
Ȝif ich ouȝt can, mi frende fre.’
‘Gramerci, sir,’ þan seyd he.
‘Of him to here leue war me.’
Gij hete his folk hastiliche
Þat hye him vnder-feng curteysliche.
‘Ich-il þe telle,’ quaþ sir Gij,
‘Þat y can of þerl Tirri.’
When þai hadde d[r]onken in þe halle,
& glad þai were, y telle ȝou, alle,
Þan seyd þerl Tirri:
‘For loue y bidde þe, sir Gij,
Oȝain to mi cuntre com wiþ me,
Als-so we sworn breþer be,
Mi fader to help þat we spede;
For of help he haþ gret nede.’
‘Be stille,’ seyd Gij, ‘what seystow me?
Þat day to god vnworþi y be,
Ȝif y, sir Tirri, feyle þe,
Þerwhiles þat ich haue liif in me.’
‘Sir Gij,’ he seyd, ‘gramerci:
Þilke y sigge þe, sikerly.’
‘For loue y bidde þe, sir Gij,
Oȝain to mi cuntre com wiþ me,
Als-so we sworn breþer be,
Mi fader to help þat we spede;
For of help he haþ gret nede.’
‘Be stille,’ seyd Gij, ‘what seystow me?
Þat day to god vnworþi y be,
286
Þerwhiles þat ich haue liif in me.’
‘Sir Gij,’ he seyd, ‘gramerci:
Þilke y sigge þe, sikerly.’
| Guy of Warwick | |