 | Middle English verse romances |  |
348
Sir Gawain and the Carl of Carlisle
351
1
Lystonnyth, lordyngus, a lyttyll stondeOf on that was sekor and sounde
And doughty in his dede.
He was as meke as mayde in bour
And therto styfe in euery stour,
Was non so doughtty in dede.
Dedus of armus wyttout lese
Seche he wolde in war and pees
In mony a stronge lede.
Sertaynly, wyttoutyn fabull,
He was wytt Artter at the Rounde Tabull,
In romans as we reede.
2
His name was Syr Gawene;Moche worschepe in Bretten he wan,
And hardy he was and wyghte.
The yle of Brettayn icleppyde ys
Betwyn Skotlond and Ynglonde iwys,
In storry iwryte aryghte.
Wallys ys an angull of that yle;
At Cardyfe soiornde the kynge a whylle
Wytt mony a gentyll knyghte
That wolde to Ynglonde to honte,
As grete lordys dothe and be wonte,
Wytt hardy lordys and wyghte.
3
Kinge Arttor to his lordis gan sayeAs a lorde ryall that well maye,
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Byschope Bawdewyn schall hit don;
Then to the forrest woll we gon,
All that evyr her ys,
For nowe ys grece-tyme of the yeer
That baruns bolde schulde hont the der,
And reyse hem of her reste.”
Wondor glad was Syr Mewreke,
So was the knyght Sir Key Caratocke,
And other mor and lase.
4
Glad was Launccelet de Lacke,So was Syr Percivall, I vndortake,
And Lanfalle, I wene,
So was Syr Eweyn the Vyttryan
And Syr Lot of Laudyan,
That hardy was and kene,
Syr Gaytefer and Syr Galerowne,
Syr Costantyn and Syr Raynbrown,
The knyght of armus grene.
Syr Gawen was stwarde of the halle;
He was master of hem all
And buskyde hem bedenne.
5
The kyngus vncull Syr MordreteNobull knyghtus wytt hym gan lede,
In romans as men rede.
Syr Yngeles, that genttyle knyghte,
Wytt hym he lede houndys wyght
That well coude do her dede.
Syr Lebys Dyskoniis was thare
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To make the donne der blede;
Syr Petty Pas of Wynchylse,
A nobull knyght of cheualré,
And stout was on a stede.
6
Syr Grandon and Syr Ferr Vnkowthe,Meryly they sewyde wytt mouthe,
Wytt houndys that wer wyght;
Syr Blancheles and Ironsyde,
Monny a doughty that day con ryde
On hors fayr and lyghte.
Irounsyde, as I wene,
Gat the knyght of armus grene
On a lady bryght,
Sertenly, as I wnderstonde,
The fayr may of Blanche Lonnde,
In bour that louely wighte.
7
Ironsyde, as I wene,I-armyd he wolde ryde full clene,
Wer the sonn nevyr so hoot;
In wyntter he wolde armus bere,
Gyanttus and he wer euer at were
And allway at the debate.
8
Fabele Honde hyght ys stede,His armys and his odir wede
Full fayr and goode hit was.
Of asur for sothe he bare
A gryffyn of golde full feyr
Iset full of golde flourrus.
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9
He coude mor of venery and of werThen all the kyngus that wer ther;
Full oft asay hem he wolde.
Brennynge dragons hade he slayn
And wylde bullus mony won
That gresely wer iholde.
Byge barrons he hade ibonde,
A hardyer knyght myght not be fonde,
Full herdy he was and bolde.
Therfor ha was callyd, as I hard say,
The kyngus fellowe by his day,
Wytt worthy knyghttus itolde.
10
A lyon of golde was his creste;He spake reyson out of reste;
Lystynn and ye may her.
Whereuer he went, be est or weste,
He nold forsake man nor best
To fyght fer or ner.
11
Knyghttus kene fast they rane;The kynge followyd wytt mony a man,
V C and moo, I wene.
Folke followyd wytt fedyrt flonus,
Nobull archarrus for the nons,
To fell the fallow-der so cleyn.
12
Barrons gan her hornnus blowe,The der cam reykynge on a rowe,
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Be that tyme was pryme of the day
V C der dede on a lond lay
Alonge vndur a lynde.
13
Then Syr Gawen and Syr KeyAnd Beschope Bavdewyn, as I yow say,
After a raynder they rode.
Frowe that tym was prym of the day
Tyl myde-vndur-non, as I yow saye,
Neuer styll hit abode.
A myst gan ryse in a mor,
Barrons blowe her hornis store;
Meche mon Syr Key made,
The reyneder wolde not dwelle.
Herkon what aventer hem befelle;
Herbrow they wolde fayn haue hade.
14
Then sayde the gentyll knyght Syr Gawen,“All this labur ys in wayne,
For certen trowe hit me.
The dere ys passyde out of our syght;
We mete no mor wytt hym to-nyght,
Hende herkon to me.
I reede that we of our hors alyght
And byde in this woode all nyght
And loge vndur this tree.”
“Ryde we hens,” quod Keye anon,
“We schall haue harbrowe or we gon;
Dar no man wern hit me.”
15
Then sayd the Beschope, “I knowe hit well,A Carle her in a castell
A lyttyll her ner honde.
The Karl of Carllyll ys his nam,
He may vs herborow, be Sent Iame,
As I vndurstonde.
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That euer myght gaystyn in his holde
But evyll harbrowe he fonde.
He schall be bette, as I harde say,
And yefe he go wytt lyfe away
Hit wer but Goddus sonde.
16
Nowe ryde we thedyr all thre.”Therto sayd Key, “I grant hit the,
Also mot I well far;
And as thou seyst, hit schall be holde.
Be the Carle neuer so bolde,
I count hym not worthe an har
And yeyf he be neuer so stovte,
We woll hym bette all abowt
And make his beggynge bar.
Suche as he brewythe, seche schall he drenke,
He schall be bette that he schall stynke
And ayenst his wyll be thar.”
17
Syr Gawen sayd, “So hav I blyse,I woll not geystyn ther magré ys,
Thow I myght neuer so well,
Yefe anny fayr wordus may vs gayn
To make the larde of vs full fayn
In his oun castell.
Key, let be thy bostfull fare;
Thow gost about to warke care,
I say, so haue I helle.
I woll pray the good lorde, as I yow saye,
Of herborow tyll to-morrow daye
And of met and melle.”
18
On her way fast they rode;At the castell yat they abode;
The portter call they schulde.
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To knocke therat Syr Key toke dayn,
The hommyr away he wold have pold.
The portter come wytt a prewey fare
And hem fonde he ther;
He axid what they wolde.
Then sayd Gawen curttesly,
“We beseche the lorde of herbory,
The good lorde of this holde.”
19
The portter answerd hem agayn,“Your message wold I do full fayn;
And ye have harme, thanke hyt not me.
Ye be so fayr, lyme and lythe,
And therto comly, glad therwytt,
That cemmely hyt ys to see.
My lorde can no corttessye;
Ye schappyth notte wyttout a wellony,
Truly trow ye mee.
Me rewyth sor ye came this waye;
And ar ye go, so woll ye say,
But yefe mor grace be.”
20
“Portter,” sayde Key, “let be thy care;Thow sest we mey no forther fare;
Thow iappyst, as I wene.
But thou wolt on our message gon,
The kyngus keyis woll we tane
And draw hem doun cleyn.”
The portter sayde, “So mot I thryfe,
Ther be not thre knyghttus alyve
That dorst do hit, I wene.
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Some your lyvys ye schold forlete
Or ellus full fast to flen.”
21
The portter went into the hall,Wytt his lord he mett wyttall,
That hardy was and bolde.
“Carl of Carllhyll, God loke the,
At the yatt be barnnus thre,
Semley armus to welde,
To knyghttus of Arterys in,
A beschope, and no mor men,
Sertayn, as they me tolde.”
Then sayd the Carle, “Be Sent Myghell,
That tythingus lykyth me ryght well,
Seyth thei this way wolde.”
22
When they came befor that syr,They fond iiij whelpus lay about his fyer,
That gresly was for to see:
A wyld bole and a fellon boor,
A lyon that wold bytte sor—
Therof they had grete ferly.
A bege ber lay louse vnbounde,
Seche iiij whelpus ther they founde
About the carllus kne.
They rose and came the knyghttus agayn,
And soun thei wold hem haue slayn;
The Carle bade hem let bee.
23
“Ly doun,” he sayd, “my whelpys four.”Then the lyon began to lour
And glowyd as a glede,
The ber to ramy, the boole to groun,
The bor he whett his toskos soun
Fast and that good spede.
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They fell adoun for fer of hyme,
So sor they gan hyme drede.
For a word the Carle gan say
Vnder the tabull they crepyd away;
Therof Syr Key toke hede.
24
The Carle the knyghttus can beholde,Wytt a stout vesage and a bolde;
He semyd a dredfull man:
Wytt chekus longe and vesage brade,
Cambur nose and all full made,
Betwyne his browus a large spane,
Hys moghth moche, his berd graye,
Ouer his brest his lockus lay
As brod as anny fane;
Betwen his schuldors, whos ryght can rede,
He was ij tayllors yardus a brede.
Syr Key merweld gretly than.
25
IX taylloris yerdus he was hyghtht,And therto leggus longe and wyghtht,
Or ellus wondor hit wer.
Ther was no post in that hall,
Grettyst growand of hem all,
But his theys wer thycker.
His armus wer gret wyttoutyn lese,
His fyngeris also, iwys,
As anny lege that we ber.
Whos stoud a stroke of his honde,
He was not wecke, I vndurstond,
That dar I safly swer.
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26
Then Syr Gawen began to cnele.The Carle sayd he myght be knyght wylle
And bad hyme stond vpe anon.
“Lett be thy knellynge, gentyll knyght;
Thow logost wytt a Carll to-nyght,
I swer, by Sennt Iohnn.
For her no corttessy thou schalt have,
But carllus cortessy, so God me save,
For serttus I can non.”
He bad brynge wyn in gold so der;
Anon hit cam in coppus cler,
As anny sonn hit schon.
27
IIII gallons held a cop and more;He bad brynge forthe a grettor:
“What schall this lyttyll cope doun?
This to lyttyll a cope for me
When I sytt by the fyr onn hy
By myself aloun.
Brynge vs a gretter bolle of wynn;
Let vs drenke and play sethyn
Tyll we to sopper goun.”
The butteler brought a cope of golde
(IX gallons hit gane holde)
And toke hit the Carle anon.
28
IX gallons he hyld and mare;He was not weke that hit bare
In his won honde.
The knyghttus dronkon fast about
And sethe arose and went hem out
To se her hors stond.
Corne and hey thei had reydy;
A lyttyll folle stod hem bye
Wytt her hors fast ettand.
The besschope put the fole away:
“Thow schalt not be fello wytt my palfray
Whyll I am beschope in londe.”
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29
The Carll then cam wytt a gret spedeAnd askyde, “Who hathe doun this dede?”
The beschope seyd, “That was I.”
“Therfor a bofett thou schalt have,
I swer, so God me sawe,
And hit schall be sett wytterly.”
“I ame a clarke of ordors hyghe.”
“Yett cannyst thou noght of corttessyghe,
I swer, so mott I trye.”
He yafe the besschope a boffett tho
That to the ground he gan goo;
I sonynge he gann lyghe.
30
Syr Key came in the same casTo se his stede ther he was;
The foll fond he hym by.
Out att the dor he drof hym out
And on the backe yafe hym a clovt.
The Carle se that wytt hys yghe.
The Carll yafe hym seche a boffett
That smertly onn the grond hym sett;
In sonynge gan he lyghe.
“Euyll-tavght knyghttus,” the Carl gan sey;
“I schall teche the or thou wend away
Sum of my corttessye.”
31
Then they arose and went to hall,The beschope and Syr Key wyttall,
That worthy was iwroght.
Syr Gawen axyd wer they had byne.
They seyd, “Our horssys we have sene
And vs sor forthoght.”
Then ansswerd Gawen full curttesly,
“Syr, wytt your leyf then wyll I.”
The Carll knewe his thought.
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That well was hym, be bocke and belle,
That herborow had cavght.
32
Wyttout the stabull dor the foll gan stond;Gawen put hyme in agayn wytt his hond;
He was all wett, I wene,
As the foll had stond in rayne.
Then keueryd he hym, Sir Gawene,
Wytt his manttell of grene.
“Stond vpe, fooll, and eette thy mette;
We spend her that thy master dothe gett,
Whyll that we her byne.”
The Carle stode hym fast by
And thankyd hym full curtteslye
Manny sythis, I wene.
33
Be that tyme her soper was redy dyght,The tabullus wer havfe vpe an hyght;
Icowert they were full tyte.
Forthwytt, thei wolde not blynne:
The besschope gan the tabull begynne
Wytt a gret delytte.
Syr Key was sett on the tother syde
Ayenst the Carllus wyfe so full of pryde,
That was so feyr and whytte:
Her armus small, her mydyll gent,
Her yghen grey, her browus bente;
Of curttessy sche was perfette.
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34
Her roode was reede, her chekus rounde,A feyrror myght not goo on grounde,
Ne lowelyur of syghte.
Sche was so gloryis and soo gay
I can not rekon her araye;
Sche was so gayly dyghte.
“Alas,” thought Key, “thou lady fre,
That thou schuldyst this ipereschde be
Uytt seche a foulle weghtht!”
“Sytt styll,” quod the Carl, “and eete thy mette;
Thow thinkost mor then thou darst speke;
Sertten I the hyght.”
35
I do yow all well to wetteTher was noo man bade Gawen sitte,
But in the halle flor gann he stonde.
The Carle sayde, “Fellowe, anoun,
Loke my byddynge be well idoun!
Go take a sper in thy honde
And at the bottre-dor goo take thy passe
And hitt me evyn in the face;
Do as I the commande.
And yeyfe thou ber me ayenst the wall,
Thow schalt not hort me wyttalle,
Whyll I am gyaunt in londe.”
36
Syr Gawenn was a glade mann wytt that;At the bottre-dor a sper he gatte
And in his honde hit hente.
Syr Gawen came wytt a gret ire.
Doun he helde his hede, that syre,
Tyll he hade geue his dentte.
He yafe the ston wall seche a rappe
That the goode sper all tobrake;
The fver flewe out of the flente.
The Carl sayde to hym ful soune,
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And be the honde hyme hente.
37
A cher was fette for Syr Gawene,That worthy knyght of Bryttayne;
Befor the Carllus wyfe was he sett.
So moche his love was on her lyght
Of all the soper he ne myght
Nodyr drynke nor ette.
The Carle sayde, “Gawen, comfort the,
For synn ys swete, and that I se,
Serten I the hete.
Sche ys myn thou woldyst wer thynn.
Leve seche thoghttus and drenke the wynne,
For her thou schalt nott geytt.”
38
Syr Gawen was aschemmyde in his thowght;The Carllus dovghtter forthe was brovght,
That was so feyr and bryght.
As gold wyre schynyde her here.
Hit cost a M li and mar,
Her aparrell pertly pyghte.
Wytt ryche stonnus her clothus wer sett,
Uytt ryche perllus about her frete,
So semly was that syghte.
Ouyr all the hall gann sche leme
As hit were a sonbeme—
That stonnus schone so bryght.
39
Then seyde the Carle to that bryght of ble,“Uher ys thi harpe thou schuldist have broght wytt the—
Uhy hast thou hit forgette?”
Anon hit was fett into the hall
And a feyr cher wyttall
Befor her fador was sett.
The harpe was of maser fyne;
The pynnys wer of golde, I wene,
365
Furst sche harpyd and sethe songe
Of love and of Artorrus armus amonge,
How they togeydor mett.
40
Uhen they hade sovpyde and mad hem glade,The Beschope into his chambur was lade,
Uytt hym Syr Key the kene.
They toke Syr Gawen wyttout lessynge
To the Carlus chamber thei gan hym brynge,
That was so bryght and schene.
41
They bade Syr Gawen go to bede,Uytt clothe of golde so feyr sprede,
That was so feyr and bryght.
Uhen the bede was made wytt wynne,
The Carl bade his oun lady go in,
That loufesom was of syghte.
A squyer came wytt a prewey far
And he vnarmyde Gawen then;
Schaply he was vndyght.
The Carle seyde, “Syr Gawene,
Go take my wyfe in thi armus tweyne
And kys her in my syghte.”
42
Syr Gawen ansswerde hyme anon,“Syr, thi byddynge schall be doune,
Sertaynly in dede,
Kyll or sley or laye adoune.”
To the bede he went full sone,
Fast and that good spede.
For softnis of that ladys syde
Made Gawen do his wyll that tyde;
Therof toke the Carle goode hede.
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Then seyd the Carle, “Whoo ther.
That game I the forbede.
43
But, Gawen, sethe thou hast do my byddynge,Som kyndnis I most schewe the in anny thinge,
As fer forthe as I maye.
Thow schalt have wonn to so bryght
Schall play wytt the all this nyghte
Tyll to-morrowe daye.”
To his doughtter chambur he went full ryght
And bade her aryse and go to the knyght
And wern hym nott to playe.
Sche dorst not ayenst his byddynge doun,
But to Gawen sche cam full sone
And style doun be hyme laye.
44
“Now, Gawen,” quod the Carle, “holst the well payde?”“Ye, for Gode, lorde,” he sayde,
“Ryght well as I myghte!”
“Nowe,” quod the Carle, “I woll to chambur go;
My blessynge I geyfe yow bouthe to,
And play togeydor all this nyght.”
A glad man was Syr Gawen
Sertenly, as I yowe sayne,
Of this lady bryght.
Serten, sothely for to say,
So, I hope, was that feyr maye
Of that genttyll knyght.
45
“Mary, mercy,” thought that lady bryghte,“Her come neuer suche a knyght
Of all that her hathe benne.”
Syr Key arose vppon the morrown
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Homwarde, as I wenne.
“Nay, Syr Key,” the Beschope gann seye,
“Ue woll not so wende our waye
Tyll we Syr Gawen have sene.”
The Carll arose on morrow anon
And fond his byddynge reddy doune:
His dyner idyght full cleyne.
46
To a mas they lett knelle;Syr Gawen arose and went thertyll
And kyst that lady bryght and cler.
“Maré, marcé,” seyde that lady bryght,
“Uher I schall se enny mor this knyght
That hathe ley my body so ner?”
Uhen the mese was doune to ende,
Syr Gawen toke his leve to wende
And thonkyde hym of his cher.
“Furst,” sayde the Carle, “ye schall dynn
And on my blessynge wende home syne,
Homward al yn fere.”
47
“Hit is xx wynter gon,” sayde the Karle, “noweThat God I maked a vowe,
Therfore I was fulle sad:
Ther schulde neuer man logge in my wonys
But he scholde be slayne, iwys,
But he did as I hym bad.
But he wolde do my byddynge bowne,
He schulde be slayne and layde adowne,
Whedir he were lorde or lad.
Fonde I neuer, Gawen, none but the.
Nowe Gode of heuyn yelde hit the;
Therfore I am fulle glade.”
48
“He yelde the,” sayde the Carle, “that the dere boughte,For al my bale to blysse is broughte
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He lade Gawen ynto a wilsome wonys
There as lay x fodir of dede menn bonys
Al yn blode, as I wene.
Ther hynge many a blody serke,
And eche of heme a dyuers marke;
Grete doole hit was to sene.
49
“This slowe I, Gawen, and my helpis,I and also my foure whelpis,
For sothe, as I the say
Nowe wulle I forsake my wyckyd lawys;
Ther schall no mo men her be slawe, iwys,
As ferth forthe as I may.
Gawen, for the love of the
Al schal be welcome to me
That comythe here by this way.
And for alle these sowlys, I vndirtake,
A chauntery here wul I lete make,
X prestis syngynge til domysday.”
50
Be that tyme her dyner was redy dyghte,Tables wer hovyn vp an hyghte,
Ikeuerid thei were fulle clene.
Syr Gawen and this lady clere,
They were iseruyd bothe i fere;
Myche myrthe was theme bytwene.
Therfore the Carle was full glade.
The Byschop and Syr Kay he bad
Mery that thei scholde bene.
He yafe the bischop to his blessynge
A cros, a myter, and a rynge,
A clothe of golde, I wene.
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A blode-rede stede and a whight;
Suche on had he neuer sene.
51
He yaf Syr Gawen, sothe to say,His doughter and a whighte palfray,
A somer ichargid wyth golde.
Sche was so gloryous and so gay
I kowde not rekyn here aray,
So bryghte was alle here molde.
“Nowe ryde forthe, Gawen, on my blessynge,
And grete wel Artyr, that is your kynge,
And pray hym that he wolde,
For his loue that yn Bedlem was borne,
That he wulle dyne wyth me to-morne.”
Gawen seyde he scholde.
52
Then thei rode syngynge awayWyth this yonge lady on here palfray,
That was so fayre and bryghte.
They tolde Kynge Artir wher thei had bene,
And what wondirs thei had sene
Serteynly in here syght.
“Nowe thonkyd be God, cosyn Gawyn,
That thou scapist alyve vnslayne,
Serteyne wyth alle my myght.”
“And I, Syr Kynge,” sayd Syr Kay agayne,
“That euer I scapid away vnslayne
My hert was neuyr so lyght.
The Carle prayde you for his love that yn Bedlem was borne
That ye wolde dyne wyth hym to-morne.”
Kynge Artur sone hym hyght.
In the dawnynge forthe thy rade;
A ryalle metynge ther was imade
Of many a ientylle knyght.
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53
Trompettis mette hem at the gate,Clarions of siluer redy therate,
Serteyne wythoutyn lette;
Harpe, fedylle, and sawtry,
Lute, geteron, and menstracy
Into the halle hem fett.
54
The Carle knelyd downe on his kneAnd welcomyd the kynge wurthyly
Wyth wordis ware and wyse.
When the Kynge to the halle was brought,
Nothynge ther ne wantyd nought
That any man kowde deuyse.
The wallys glemyd as any glasse,
Wyth dyapir colour wroughte hit was
55
Of golde, asure, and byse,Wyth tabernacles the halle aboughte,
Wyth pynnacles of golde sterne and stoute;
Ther cowde no man hem preyse.
Trompettys trompid vp in grete hete;
The kynge lete sey grace and wente to mete
And was iseruyde wythoute lette.
Swannys, fesauntys, and cranys,
Partrigis, plouers, and curlewys
Before the Kynge was sette.
56
The Carle seyde to the Kynge, “Dothe gladly.Here get ye no nothir curtesy,
As I vndirstonde.”
Wyth that come yn bollys of golde, so grete
Ther was no knyght sat at the mete
Myght lyfte hem wyth his on honde.
The Kynge swore, “By Seynte Myghelle,
This dyner lykythe me as welle
As any that euyr Y fonde.”
A dubbyd hym knyght on the morne;
The contré of Carelyle he yafe hym sone
To be lorde of that londe.
371
57
“Here I make the yn this stowndeA knyght of the Table Rownde,
Karlyle thi name schalle be.”
On the morne when hit was daylyght
Syr Gawen weddyid that lady bryght,
That semely was to se.
58
Than the Carle was glade and blytheAnd thonkyd the Kynge fele sythe,
For sothe, as I you say.
A ryche fest had he idyght
That lastyd holy a fortenyght
Wyth game, myrthe, and playe.
The mynstrellis had yeftys fre
That they myght the better be,
To spende many a day.
And when the feste was broughte to ende,
Lordis toke here leve to wende
Homwarde on here way.
59
A ryche abbey the Carle gan makeTo synge and rede for Goddis sake
In wurschip of oure Lady.
In the towne of mery Carelyle
He lete hit bylde stronge and wele;
Hit is a byschoppis see.
And theryn monkys gray
To rede and synge tille domysday,
As men tolde hit me,
For the men that he had slayne, iwis.
Iesu Cryste, brynge vs to thy blis
Aboue in heuyn, yn thy see. Amen.
| Middle English verse romances | |