The English Charlemagne Romances

In the cheiftyme of Charlis, that chosin Chiftane,
Thair fell ane ferlyfull flan within thay fellis wide,
Quhair Empreouris and Erlis and vther mony ane
Turnit fra Sanct Thomas befoir the ȝule tyde.
Thay past vnto Paris, thay proudest in pane,
With mony Prelatis & Princis, that was of mekle pryde;
All thay went with the king to his worthy wane,
Ouir the feildis sa fair thay fure be his syde.
All the worthiest went in the morning;
Baith Dukis and Duchepeiris,
Barrounis and Bacheleiris,
Mony stout man steiris
Of town with the King.

And as that Ryall raid ouir the rude mure,
Him betyde ane tempest that tyme, hard I tell,
The wind blew out of the Eist stiflie and sture,
The deip durandlie draif in mony deip dell;
Sa feirslie fra the Firmament, sa fellounlie it fure,
Thair micht na folk hald na fute on the heich fell
In point thay war to parische, thay proudest men and pure,
In thay wickit wedderis thair wist nane to dwell.
Amang thay myrk Montanis sa madlie thay mer,
Be it was pryme of the day,
Sa wonder hard fure thay
That ilk ane tuik ane seir way,
And sperpellit full fer.

Ithand wedderis of the eist draif on sa fast,
It all to-blaisterit and blew that thairin baid.
Be thay disseuerit sindrie, midmorne was past;
Thair wist na Knicht of the Court quhat way the King raid.
He saw thair was na better bot God at the last,
His steid aganis the storme staluartlie straid;
He Cachit fra the Court, sic was his awin cast,
Quhair na body was him about, be fiue mylis braid.
In thay Montanis, I-wis, he wox all will,
In wickit wedderis and wicht,
Amang thay Montanis on hicht:
Be that it drew to the nicht
The Kyng lykit ill.

Euill lykand was the Kyng it nichtit him sa lait,
And he na harberie had for his behufe;
Sa come thair ane cant Carll chachand the gait,
With ane Capill and twa Creillis cuplit abufe.
The King carpit to the Carll withouten debait,
“Schir, tell me thy richt name, for the Rude lufe:”
He sayis, “men callis me Rauf Coilȝear, as I weill wait;
I leid my life in this land mith mekle vnrufe,
Baith tyde and tyme, in all my trauale;
Hine ouir seuin mylis I dwell,
And leidis Coilis to sell,
Sen thow speris, I the tell
All the suith hale.”

“Sa mote I thrife,” said the King, “I speir for nane ill;
Thow semis ane nobill fallow, thy answer is sa fyne.”
“Forsouth,” said the Coilȝear, “traist quhen thow will
For I trow and it be nocht swa, sum part salbe thyne.”
“Mary, God forbid!” said the King, “that war bot lytill skill;
Baith myself and my hors is reddy for to tyne:

I pray the, bring me to sum rest, the weddir is sa schill,
For I defend that we fall in ony fechtine.
I had mekill mair nait, sum freindschip to find;
And gif thow can better than I,
For the name of Sanct Iuly,
Thow bring me to sum harbery,
And leif me not behind!”

“I wait na worthie harberie heir neir-hand
For to serue sic ane man as me think the:
Nane bot mine awin house, maist in this land,
Fer furth in the Forest, amang the fellis hie.
With thy thow wald be payit of sic as thow fand,
Forsuith thow suld be wel-cum to pas hame with me,
Or ony vther gude fallow that I heir fand
Walkand will of his way, as me think the;
For the wedderis ar sa fell, that fallis on the feild.”
The King was blyth quhair he raid,
Of the grant that he had maid,
Sayand, with hert glaid,
“Schir, God ȝow forȝeild!”

“Na! thank me not ouir airlie, for dreid that we threip,
For I haue seruit the ȝit of lytill thing to rufe;
For nouther hes thow had of me fyre, drink, nor meit,
Nor nane vther eismentis for trauellouris behufe.
Bot, micht we bring this harberie this nicht weill to heip,
That we micht with ressoun baith thus excuse,
To-morne, on the morning, quhen thow sall on leip,
Pryse at the parting, how that thow dois;
For first to lofe, and syne to lak, Peter! it is schame.”
The King said, “in gud fay,
Schir, it is suith that ȝe say.”
Into sic talk fell thay,
Quhill thay war neir hame.

To the Coilȝearis hous baith, or thay wald blin,
The Carll had Cunning weill quhair the gait lay:
“Vndo the dure beliue! Dame, art thow in?
Quhy Deuill makis thow na dule for this euill day?
For my Gaist and I baith cheueris with the chin,
Sa fell ane wedder feld I neuer, be my gude fay!”
The gude wyfe [was] glaid with the gle to begin—
For durst scho neuer sit summoundis that scho hard him say—
The Carll was wantoun of word, and wox wonder wraith.
All abaisit for blame,
To the Dure went our Dame,
Scho said, “Schir ȝe ar welcome hame,
And ȝour Gaist baith.”

“Dame, I haue deir coft all this dayis hyre,
In wickit wedderis and weit walkand full will;
Dame, kyith I am cummin hame, and kendill on ane fyre;
I trow our Gaist be the gait hes farne als ill.
Ane Ryall rufe het fyre war my desyre,
To fair the better, for his saik, gif we micht win thair-till;
Knap doun Capounis of the best, but in the byre,
Heir is bot hamelie fair, do beliue, Gill.”
Twa cant knaifis of his awin haistelie he bad:
“The ane of ȝow my Capill ta,
The vther his Coursour alswa;
To the stabill swyith ȝe ga.”
Than was the King glaid.

The Coilȝear gudlie in feir, tuke him be the hand,
And put him befoir him, as ressoun had bene;
Quhen thay come to the dure, the King begouth to stand,
To put the Coilȝear in befoir, maid him to mene.

He said, “thow art vncourtes, that sall I warrand!”
He tyt the King be the nek, twa part in tene,
“Gif thow at bidding suld be boun or obeysand,
And gif thow of Courtasie couth, thow hes forȝet it clene!
Now is anis,” said the Coilȝear, “kynd aucht to creip,
Sen ellis thow art vnknawin,
To mak me Lord of my awin;
Sa mot I thriue, I am thrawin,
Begin we to threip.”

Than benwart thay ȝeid, quhair brandis was bricht,
To ane bricht byrnand fyre, as the Carll bad.
He callit on Gyliane his wyfe, thair Supper to dicht;
“Of the best that thair is, help that we had,
[OMITTED]
Eftir ane euill day to haue ane mirrie nicht,
For sa troublit with stormis was I neuer stad.
Of ilk airt of the Eist sa laithly it laid,
ȝit I was mekle willar than,
Quhen I met with this man.”
Of sic taillis thay began,
Quhill the supper was graid.

Sone was the Supper dicht, and the fyre bet,
And thay had weschin, I-wis, the worthiest was thair:
“Tak my wyfe be the hand in feir, withowtin let,
And gang begin the buird,” said the Coilȝear.
“That war vnsemand, forsuith, and thy self vnset:”
The King profferit him to gang, and maid ane strange fair,
“Now is twyse,” said the Carll, “me think thow hes forȝet!”
He leit gyrd to the King, withoutin ony mair,
And hit him vnder the eir with his richt hand,

Quhill he stakkerit thair with all
Half the breid of the hall;
He faind neuer of ane fall,
Quhill he the eird fand.

He start vp stoutly agane—vneis micht he stand—
For anger of that outray that he had thair tane.
He callit on Gyliane his wyfe, “ga, tak him by the hand,
And gang agane to the buird, quhair ȝe suld air haue gane.”
“Schir, thow art vnskilfull, and that sall I warrand;
Thow byrd to haue nurtour aneuch, and thow hes nane;
Thow hes walkit, I wis, in mony wyld land,
The mair vertew thow suld haue, to keip the fra blame!
Thow suld be courtes of kynd, and ane cunnand Courteir.
Thocht that I simpill be,
Do as I bid the,
The hous is myne, pardie,
And all that is heir.”

The king said to him self, “this is ane euill lyfe,
ȝit was I neuer in my lyfe thus-gait leird;
And I haue oft tymes bene quhair gude hes bene ryfe,
That maist couth of courtasie, in this Christin eird.
Is nane so gude as leif of, and mak na mair stryfe,
For I am stonischit at this straik, that hes me thus steird.”
In feir fairlie he foundis, with the gude wyfe,
Quhair the Coilȝear bad, sa braithlie he beird.
Quhen he had done his bidding, as him gude thocht,
Down he sat the King neir,
And maid him glaid & gude cheir,
And said, “ȝe ar welcum heir,
Be him that me bocht.”

Quhen thay war seruit and set to the Suppar,
Gyll and the gentill King, Charlis of micht,
Syne on the tother syde sat the Coilȝear,
Thus war thay marschellit but mair, & matchit that nicht.
Thay brocht breid to the buird, and braun of ane bair,
And the worthyest wyne, went vpon hicht;
Thay Beirnis, as I wene, thay had aneuch thair,
Within that burelie bigging, byrnand full bricht.
Syne enteris thair daynteis, on deis dicht dayntelie;
Within that worthy wane
Forsuith wantit thay nane.
With blyith cheir sayis Gyliane,
“Schir, dois glaidlie.”

The Carll carpit to the King cumlie and cleir:
“Schir, the Forestaris, forsuith, of this Forest,
Thay haue me all at Inuy, for dreid of the Deir;
Thay threip that I thring doun of the fattest.
Thay say, I sall to Paris, thair to compeir
Befoir our cumlie King, in dule to be drest;
Sir manassing thay me mak, forsuith, ilk ȝeir,
And ȝit aneuch sall I haue for me and ane Gest.
Thairfoir sic as thow seis, spend on, and not spair.”
Thus said gentill Charlis the Mane
To the Coilȝear agane:
“The King him self hes bene fane,
Sum tyme, of sic fair.”

Of Capounis and Cunningis they had plentie,
With wyne at thair will, and eik Vennysoun;
Byrdis bakin in breid, the best that may be;
Thus full freschlie thay fure into fusoun.
The Carll with ane cleir voce carpit on he,
Said, “Gyll, lat the cop raik for my bennysoun,
And gar our Gaist begin, and syne drink thow to me;

Sen he is ane stranger, me think it ressoun.”
They drank dreichlie about, thay wosche and thay rais;
The King with ane blyith cheir
Thankit the Coilȝeir;
Syne all the thre into feir
To the fyre gais.

Quhen they had maid thame eis, the Coilȝear tald
Mony sindrie taillis efter Suppair.
Ane bricht byrnand fyre was byrnand full bald;
The King held gude countenance, and company bair,
And euer to his asking ane answer he ȝald;
Quhill at the last he began to frane farther mair,
“In faith, freind, I wald wit, tell gif ȝe wald,
Quhair is thy maist wynning?” said the Coilȝear.
“Out of weir,” said the King, “I wayndit neuer to tell;
With my Lady the Quene
In office maist haue I bene,
All thir ȝeiris fyftene,
In the Court for to dwell.”

“Quhat-kin office art thow in, quhen thow art at hame,
Gif thow dwellis with the Quene, proudest in pane?”
“And Chyld of hir Chalmer, Schir, be Sanct Jame,
And thocht my self it say, maist inwart of ane;
For my dwelling to nicht, I dreid me for blame.”
“Quhat sall I call the,” said the Coilȝear, “quhen thow art hyne gane?”
“Wymond of the Wardrop is my richt Name;
Quhair euer thow findis me befoir the, thi harberie is tane.
And thow will cum to the Court, this I vnderta,
Thow sall haue for thy Fewaill,
For my sake, the better saill,
And onwart to thy trauaill,
Worth ane laid or twa.”

He said, “I haue na knawledge quhair the Court lyis,
And I am wonder wa to cum quhair I am vnkend.”
“And I sall say thee the suith on ilk syde, I wis,
That thow sall wit weill aneuch or I fra the wend:
Baith the King and the Quene meitis in Paris
For to hald thair ȝule togidder, for scho is efter send.
Thair may thow sell, be ressoun, als deir as thow will prys;
And ȝit I sall help the, gif I ocht may amend,
For I am knawin with Officiaris in cais thow cum thair.
Haue gude thocht on my Name,
And speir gif I be at hame,
For I suppois, be Sanct Jame,
Thow sall the better fair.”

“Me think it ressoun, be the Rude, that I do thy red,
In cais I cum to the Court, and knaw bot the ane;
Is nane sa gude as drink, and gang to our bed,
For als far as I wait, the nicht is furth gane.”
To ane preuie Chalmer beliue thay him led,
Quhair ane burely bed was wrocht in that wane;
Closit with Courtingis, and cumlie cled,
Of the worthiest wyne wantit thay nane.
The Coilȝear and his wyfe baith with him thay ȝeid,
To serue him all at thay mocht,
Till he was in bed brocht.
Mair the King spak nocht,
Bot thankit thame thair deid.

Vpoun the morne airlie, quhen it was day,
The King buskit him sone, with scant of Squyary.
Wachis and Wardroparis all war away,
That war wont for to walkin mony worthy.
And Pauyot preuilie brocht him his Palfray,
The King thocht lang of this lyfe, and lap on in hy;
Than callit he on the Carll, anent quhair he lay,

For to tak his leif, than spak he freindly.
Than walkinnit thay baith, and hard he was thair;
The Carll start vp sone,
And prayit him to abyde none:
“Quhill thir wickit wedderis be done
I red nocht ȝe fair.”

“Sa mot I thriue,” said the King, “me war laith to byde;
Is not the morne ȝule day, formest of the ȝeir?
Ane man that Office suld beir be tyme at this tyde,
He will be found in his fault, that wantis foroutin weir.
I se the Firmament fair vpon ather syde,
I will returne to the Court, quhill the wedder is cleir;
Call furth the gude wyfe, lat pay hir or we ryde,
For the worthie harberie that I haue fundin heir.”
“Lat be, God forbid,” the Coilȝear said,
“And thow of Charlis cumpany,
Cheif King of Cheualry,
That for ane nichtis harbery
Pay suld be laid.”

“ȝea, sen it is sa that thow will haue na pay,
Cum the morne to the Court, and do my counsall:
Deliuer the, and bring ane laid, and mak na delay,
Thow may not schame with thy Craft, gif thow thriue sall.
Gif I may helf the ocht to sell, forsuith I sall assay,
And als my self wald haue sum of the Fewall.”
“Peter!” he said, “I sall preif the morne, gif I may,
To bring Coillis to the Court, to se quhen thay sell sall.”
“Se that thow let nocht, I pray the,” said the King.
“In faith,” said the Coilȝear,
“Traist weill I salbe thair,
For thow will neuer gif the mair
So mak ane lesing.”

“Bot tell me now lelely quhat is thy richt name?
I will forȝet the morne, and ony man me greif.”
“Wymond of the Wardrop, I bid not to lane;
Tak gude tent to my name, the Court gif thow will preif.”
“That I haue said, I sall hald, and that I tell the plane;
Quhair ony Coilȝear may enchaip I trow till encheif.”
Quhen he had grantit him to cum, than was the King fane,
And withoutin ony mair let, than he tuke his leif.
Then the Coilȝear had greit thocht on the cunnand he had maid;
Went to the Charcoill in hy,
To mak his Chauffray reddy;
Agane the morne airly
He ordanit him ane laid.

The lyft lemit vp beliue, and licht was the day;
The King had greit knawledge the countrie to ken.
Schir Rolland and Oliuer come rydand the way,
With thame ane thousand, and ma, of fensabill men
War wanderand all the nicht ouir, & mony ma than thay
On ilk airt outwart war ordanit sic ten,
Gif thay micht heir of the King, or happin quhair he lay;
To Jesus Christ thay pray that grace thame to len.
Als sone as Schir Rolland saw it was the King,
He kneillit doun in the place,
Thankand God ane greit space,
Thair was ane meting of grace
At that gaddering.

The gentill Knicht, Schir Rolland, he kneillit on his kne,
Thankand greit God that mekill was of micht;
Schir Oliuer at his hand, and Bischoppis thre,
Withoutin commounis that come, and mony vther Knicht.

Than to Paris thay pas, all that Cheualrie,
Betuix none of the day and ȝule nicht;
The gentill Bischop Turpine cummand thay se,
With threttie Conuent of Preistis reuest at ane sicht,
Preichand of Prophecie in Processioun.
Efter thame baith fer and neir
Folkis following in feir,
Thankand God with gude cheir
Thair Lord was gane to toun.

Quhen thay Princis appeirit into Paris,
Ilk Rew Ryallie with riches thame arrayis.
Thair was Digne seruice done at Sanct Dyonys,
With mony proud Prelat, as the buik sayis.
Syne to Supper thay went, within the Palys;
Befoir that mirthfull man menstrallis playis;
Mony wicht wyfis sone, worthie and wise,
Was sene at that semblay ane and twentie dayis,
With all-kin principall plentie for his plesance.
Thay callit it the best ȝule than,
And maist worthie began,
Sen euer King Charlis was man,
Or euer was in France.

Than vpon the morne airlie, quhen the day dew,
The Coilȝear had greit thocht quhat he had vnder tane;
He kest twa Creillis on ane Capill, with Coillis anew,
Wandit thame with widdeis, to wend on that wane.
“Mary, it is not my counsall, but ȝone man that ȝe knew,
To do ȝow in his gentrise,” said Gyliane;
“Thow gaif him ane outragious blaw, & greit boist blew;
In faith thow suld haue bocht it deir, & he had bene allane.
For thy, hald ȝow fra the Court, for ocht that may be;
ȝone man that thow outrayd
Is not sa simpill as he said;
Thairun my lyfe dar I layd,
That sall thow heir and se.”

“ȝea, Dame, haue nane dreid of my lyfe to day;
Lat me wirk as I will, the weird is mine awin.
I spak not out of ressoun, the suth gif I sall say,
To Wymond of the Wardrop, war the suith knawin.
That I haue hecht I sall hald, happin as it may,
Quhidder sa it gang to greif or to gawin.”
He caucht twa Creillis on ane capill, & catchit on his way
Ouir the Daillis sa derf, be the day was dawin.
The hie way to Paris, in all that he mocht,
With ane quhip in his hand,
Cantlie on catchand;
To fulfill his cunnand,
To the Court socht.

Graith thocht of the grant had the gude King,
And callit Schir Rolland him till, and gaif commandment,
(Ane man he traistit in, maist atour all vther thing,
That neuer wald set him on assay withoutin his assent,)
“Tak thy hors and thy harnes in the morning;
For to watche weill the wayis, I wald that thow went,
Gif thow meitis ony leid lent on the ling,
Gar thame boun to this Burgh, I tell the mine Intent.
Or gyf thow seis ony man cumming furth the way,
Quhat sumeuer that he be,
Bring him haistely to me,
Befoir none that I him se
In this hall the day.”

Schir Rolland had greit ferly, and in hart kest
Quhat that suld betakin, that the King tald.
Vpon solempnit ȝule day, quhen ilk man suld rest,
That him behouit neidlingis to watche on the wald,
Quhen his God to serue he suld haue him drest.
And syne, with ane blyith cheir, buskit that bald,
Out of Paris proudly he preikit full prest;
In till his harnes all haill his hechtis for to hald,

He vmbekest the countrie, outwith the toun.
He saw na thing on steir,
Nouther fer nor neir,
Bot the feildis in feir,
Daillis and doun.

He huit and he houerit quhill midmorne and mair,
Behaldand the hie hillis and passage sa plane;
Sa saw he quhair the Coilȝear come with all his fair,
With twa Creillis on ane Capill; thairof was he fane.
He followit to him haistely, amang the holtis hair,
For to bring him to the king, at bidding full bane.
Courtesly to the Knicht kneillit the Coilȝear,
And Schir Rolland him self salust him agane,
Syne bad him leif his courtasie, and boun him to ga;
He said, “withoutin letting,
Thow mon to Paris to the King;
Speid the fast in ane ling,
Sen I find na ma.”

“In faith,” said the Coilȝear, “ȝit was I neuer sa nyse;
Schir Knicht, it is na courtasie commounis to scorne:
Thair is mony better than I, cummis oft to Parys,
That the King wait not of, nouther nicht nor morne.
For to towsill me or tit me, thocht foull be my clais,
Or I be dantit on sic wyse, my lyfe salbe lorne.”
“Do way,” said Schir Rolland, “me think thow art not wise,
I red thow at bidding be, be all that we haue sworne;
And call thow it na scorning, bot do as I the ken,
Sen thow has hard mine Intent:
It is the Kingis commandement,
At this tyme thow suld haue went
And I had met sic ten.”

“I am bot ane mad man, that thow hes heir met;
I haue na myster to matche with maisterfull men.
Fairand ouir the feildis, Fewell to fet,
And oft fylit my feit in mony foull fen;
Gangand with laidis, my gouerning to get.
Thair is mony Carll in the countrie thow may nocht ken;
I sall hald that I haue hecht, bot I be hard set,
To Wymond of the Wardrop, I wait full weill quhen.”
“Sa thriue I,” said Rolland, “it is mine Intent
That nouther to Wymond nor Will
Thow sald hald nor hecht till,
Quhill I haue brocht the to fulfill
The Kingis commandment.”

The Carll beheld to the Knicht, as he stude than;
He bair grauit in Gold, and Gowlis in grene,
Glitterand full gaylie quhen Glemis began,
Ane Tyger ticht to ane tre, ane takin of tene.
Trewlie that tenefull was trimland than,
Semelie schapin and schroud in that Scheild schene;
Mekle worschip of weir worthylie he wan,
Befoir, into fechting with mony worthie sene.
His Basnet was bordourit, and burneist bricht
With stanes of Beriall cleir,
Dyamountis and Sapheir,
Riche Rubeis in feir,
Reulit full richt.

His plaitis properlie picht attour with precious stanis,
And his Pulanis full prest of that ilk peir;
Greit Graipis of Gold his Greis for the nanis,
And his Cussanis cumlie schynand full cleir.
Bricht braissaris of steill about his arme banis,
Blandit with Beriallis and Cristallis cleir,

Ticht ouir with Thopas, and trew lufe atanis;
The teind of his Iewellis to tell war full teir.
His Sadill circulit and set, richt sa on ilk syde;
His brydill bellisand and gay,
His steid stout on stray,
He was the Ryallest of array,
On Ronsy micht ryde.

Of that Ryall array that Rolland in raid
Rauf rusit in his hart of that Ryall thing;
“He is the gayest in geir, that euer on ground glaid;
Haue he grace to the gre in ilk Iornaying.
War he ane manly man, as he is weill maid,
He war full michtie, with magre durst abyde his meting.”
He bad the Coilȝear in wraith swyth withoutin baid,
Cast the Creillis fra the Capill, and gang to the King.
“In faith, it war greit schame,” said the Coilȝear;
“I vndertuk thay suld be brocht,
This day for ocht that be mocht;
Schir Knicht that word is for nocht
That thow Carpis thair!”

“Thow huifis on thir holtis, and haldis me heir,
Quhill half the haill day may the hicht haue.”
“Be Christ that was Cristinnit, and his Mother cleir,
Thow sall catche to the Court that sall not be to craue.
It micht be preisit preiudice, bot gif thow suld compeir,
To se quhat granting of grace the King wald the gaif.”
“For na gold on this ground wald I, but weir,
Be fundin fals to the King, sa Christ me saue!”
“To gar the cum and be knawin, as I am command,
I wait not quhat his willis be,
Nor he namit na mair the,
Nor ane vther man to me,
Bot quhome that I fand.”

“Thow fand me fechand nathing that followit to feid,
I war ane fule gif I fled, and fand nane affray:
Bot as ane lauch-full man, my laidis to leid,
That leifis with mekle lawtie and laubour in fay.
Be the Mother and the Maydin that maid vs remeid,
And thow mat me ony mair, cum efter quhat sa may,
Thow I sall dyntis deill, quhill ane of vs be deid,
For the deidis thow hes me done vpon this deir day.”
Mekle merwell of that word had Schir Rolland;
He saw na wappinnis thair,
That the Coilȝear bair,
Bot ane auld Buklair,
And ane roustie brand.

“It is lyke,” said Schir Rolland, and lichtly he leuch,
“That sic ane stubill husband man wald stryke stoutly;
Thair is mony toun man, to tuggill is full teuch,
Thocht thair brandis be blak and vnburely;
Oft fair foullis ar fundin faynt, and als freuch.
I defend we fecht or fall in that foly;
Lat se how we may disseuer with sobernes aneuch,
And catche crabitnes away, be Christ counsall I.
Quhair winnis that Wymond thow hecht to meit to day?”
With the Quene, tauld he me;
And thair I vndertuke to be,
Into Paris Pardie,
Withoutin delay.”

“And I am knawin with the Quene,” said Schir Rolland,
“And with mony byrdis in hir Bowre, be buikis and bellis;
The King is into Paris, that sall I warrand,
And all his aduertance that in his Court dwellis.

Me tharth haue nane noy of myne erand,
For me think thow will be thair efter as thow tellis;
Bot gif I fand the, forrow now to keip my cunnand.”
“Schir Knicht,” said the Coilȝear, “thow trowis me neuer ellis,
Bot gif sum suddand let put it out of delay;
For that I hecht of my will,
And na man threit me thair till,
That I am haldin to fulfill,
And sall do quhill I may.”

“ȝea, sen thow will be thair, thy cunnandis to new,
I neid nane airar myne erand nor none of the day.”
“Be thow traist,” said the Coilȝear, “man, as I am trew,
I will not haist me ane fute faster on the way;
Bot gif thow raik out of my renk, full raith sall thow rew,
Or be the Rude I sall rais thy Ryall array;
Thocht thy body be braissit in that bricht hew,
Thow salbe fundin als febil of thy bone fay.”
Schir Rolland said to him self, “this is bot foly
To striue with him ocht mair:
I se weill he will be thair.”
His leif at the Coilȝear
He tuke lufesumly.

“Be Christ!” said the Coilȝear, “that war ane foull scorne,
That thow suld chaip, bot I the knew, that is sa schynand;
For thow seis my weidis ar auld, and all to-worne,
Thow trowis nathing thir taillis that I am telland.
Bring na Beirnis vs by, bot as we war borne,
And thir Blonkis that vs beiris, thairto I mak ane bland,
That I sall meit the heir vpon this mure to morne,
Gif I be haldin in heill—and thairto my hand—

Sen that we haue na laiser at this tyme to ta.”
In ane thourtour way,
Seir gaitis pas thay,
Baith to Paris in fay;
Thus partit thay twa.

The gentill Knicht, Schir Rolland come rydand full sone,
And left the Coilȝear to cum, as he had vndertane;
And quhen he come to Paris the hie Mes was done,
The King with mony cumly out of the Kirk is gane.
Of his harnes in hy he hynt withoutin hone,
And in ane Rob him arrayit richest of ane;
In that worschipfull weid he went in at none,
As he was wont, with the wy that weildit the wane,
On fute ferly in feir, formest of all.
Richt weill payit was the King
Of Schir Rollandis cumming;
To speir of his tything
Efter him gart call.

The King in counsall him callit, “cum hidder, Schir Knicht!
Hes thow my bidding done, as I the command?”
“In faith,” said Schir Rolland, “I raid on full richt,
To watch wyselie the wayis; that I sall warrand.
Thair wald na douchtie this day for Iornay be dicht;
Fairand ouir the feildis full few thair I fand;
Saif anerly ane man that semblit in my sicht,
Thair was na leid on lyfe lent in this land.”
“Quhat kin a fallow was that ane, Schir, I the pray?”
“Ane man in husband weid,
Buskit busteously on breid;
Leidand Coillis he ȝeid
To Paris the way.”

“Quhy hes thow not that husband brocht, as I the bad?
I dreid me, sa he dantit the, thow durst not with him deill.”
“In faith,” said Schir Rolland, “gif that he sa had,
That war full hard to my hart, and I ane man in heill.”
He saw the King was engreuit, and gat furth glaid,
To se gif the Coilȝearis lawtie was leill:
“I suld haue maid him in the stour to be full hard stad,
And I had witten that the Carll wald away steill;
Bo[t] I trowit not the day that he wald me beget.”
As he went outwart bayne,
He met ane Porter swayne
Cummand raith him agayne,
Fast fra the ȝet.

“Quhair gangis thow, Gedling, thir gaitis sa gane?”
“Be God,” said the Grome, “ane gift heir I geif;
I deuise at the ȝet thair is ane allane,
Bot he be lattin in beliue, him lykis not to leif.
With ane Capill and twa Creillis cassin on the plane,
To cum to this Palice he preissis to preif.”
“Gif thow hes fundin that Freik, in faith I am fane;
Lat him in glaidly, it may not engreif.
Bot askis he eirnestly efter ony man?”
Than said the Gedling on ground:
“ȝe, forsuith in this stound,
Efter ane Wymound
In all that he can.”

“Pas agane, Porter, and let him swyith in,
Amang the proudest in preis, plesand in pane.
Say thow art not worthy to Wymond to win,
Bid him seik him his self, gif thair be sic ane.”
Agane gangis Schir Rolland, quhair gle suld begin,
And the ȝaip ȝeman to the ȝet is gane;

Enbraissit the bandis beliue or that he wald blin,
Syne leit the wy at his will wend in the wane.
“Gang seik him now thy self,” he said vpon hicht:
“My self hes na lasair
Fra thir ȝettis to fair.”
“Be Christ,” said the Coilȝear,
“I set that bot licht.”

“Gif thow will not seik him, my awin self sall:
For I haue oft tymes swet in seruice full fair.
Tak keip to my Capill, that na man him call,
Quhill I cum fra the Court,” said the Coilȝear.
“My laid war I laith to lois, I leif the heir all;
Se that thow leis thame not, bot ȝeme thame full ȝair.”
In that hardy in hy, he haiket to that hall,
For to wit gif Wymondis wynning was thair.
He arguit with the Ischar ofter than anis,
“Schir, can thow ocht say
Quhair is Wymond the day?
I pray the, bring him gif thow may
Out of this wanis.”

He trowit that the wy had wittin of Wymond he wend,
Bot to his raifand word he gaue na reward;
Thair was na man thairin that his name kend,
Thay countit not the Coilȝear almaist at regaird.
He saw thair was na meiknes nor mesure micht mend,
He sped him in spedely, and nane of thame he spaird;
Thair was na fyue of thay Freikis, that micht him furth send,
He socht in sa sadly, quhill sum of thame he saird.
He thristit in throw thame thraly with threttis.
Quhen he come amang thame all,
ȝit was the King in the hall,
And mony gude man with all,
Vngane to the meit.

Thocht he had socht sic ane sicht all this seuin ȝeir,
Sa solempnit ane semblie had he not sene;
The hall was properly apperrellit and paintit but peir,
Dyamountis full dantely dentit betwene.
It was semely set on ilk syde seir,
Gowlis glitterand full gay, glemand in grene,
Flowris with Flourdelycis formest in feir,
With mony flamand ferly ma than fyftene.
The rufe reulit about in reuall of Reid,
Rois reulit Ryally,
Columbyn and Lely;
Thair was ane hailsum harbery
Into riche steid.

With Dosouris to the duris dicht, quha sa wald deme,
With all diuers danteis dicht dantely;
Circulit with siluer semely to sene,
Selcouthly in seir he was set suttelly.
Blyth byrdis abufe, and bestiall full bene,
Fyne foullis in Fyrth, and Fischis with fry;
The flure carpit and cled, and couerit full clene,
Cummand fra the Cornellis closand quemely.
Bricht Bancouris about browdin ouir all,
Greit Squechonis on hicht,
Anamalit and weill dicht,
Reulit at all richt
Endlang the hall.

“Heir is Ryaltie,” said Rauf, “aneuch for the nanis,
With all nobilnes anournit, and that is na nay;
Had I of Wymond ane word, I wald of thir wanis,
Fra thir wyis, I-wis, to went on my way;
Bot I mon ȝit heir mair quhat worthis of him anis,
And eirnestly efter him haue myne E ay.”
He thristit in throw threttie all atanis,
Quhair mony douchtie of deid war Ioynit that day.

For he was vnburely, on bak thay him hynt;
As he gat ben throw,
He gat mony greit schow;
Bot he was stalwart, I trow,
And laith for to stynt.

He thristit in throw thame, and thraly can thring,
Fast to the formest he foundit in feir:
Sone besyde him he gat ane sicht of the Nobill King,
“ȝone is Wymond, I wait, it worthis na weir;
I ken him weill, thocht he be cled in vther clething,
In clais of clene gold kythand ȝone cleir.
[OMITTED]
Quhen he harbreit with me, be half as he is heir,
In faith he is of mair stait, than euer he me tald.
Allace, that I was hidder wylit!
I dreid me sair I be begylit!”
The King preuilie smylit,
Quhen he saw that bald.

Thair was seruit in that saill Seigis semelie,
Mony Senȝeorabill Syre on ilk syde seir;
With ane cairfull countenance the Coilȝear kest his E
To the cumly Quene courtes and cleir:
“Dame, of thy glitterand gyde haue I na gle,
Be the gracious God that bocht vs sa deir;
To ken Kingis Courtasie, the Deuill come to me,
And sa I hope I may say, or I chaip heir.
Micht I chaip of this chance, that changes my cheir,
Thair suld na man be sa wyse,
To gar me cum to Parise,
To luke quhair the King lyis,
In faith, this seuin ȝeir!”

Quhen worthie had weschin, and fra the buirdis went,
Thay war for-wonderit I wis of thair wyse Lord;
The King fell in carping, and tauld his Intent,
To mony gracious Grome he maid his record.
How the busteous Beirne met him on the bent,
And how the Frostis war sa fell, and sa strait sord.
Than the Coilȝear quoke as he had bene schent,
Quhen he hard the suith say how he the King schord.
“Greit God! gif I war now, and thy self with all,
Vpon the mure quhair we met,
Baith all suddandly set,
Or ony Knicht that thow may get
Sa gude in thy hall!”

Thir Lordis leuch vpon loft, and lystinit to the King,
How he was ludgeit and led, and set at sa licht;
Than the curagious Knichtis bad haue him to hing,
“For he hes seruit that,” thay said, “be our sicht.”
“God forbot,” he said, “my thank war sic thing
To him that succourit my lyfe in sa euill ane nicht!
Him semis ane stalwart man, and stout in stryking,
That Carll for his Courtasie salbe maid knicht.
I hald the counsall full euill that Cristin man slais,
For I had myster to haue ma,
And not to distroy tha
Tha[t] war worthie to ga
To fecht on Goddis fais!”

Befoir mony worthie he dubbit him Knicht,
Dukis and digne Lordis in that deir hall.
“Schir, se for thy self, thow semis to be wicht;
Tak keip to this ordour, ane Knicht I the call;
To mak the manly man, I mak the of micht,
Ilk ȝeir thre hundreth pund assigne the I sall.
And als the nixt vacant, be ressonabill richt,
That hapnis in France, quhair sa cuer it sall,

Forfaltour or fre waird, that first cummis to hand,
I gif the heir heritabilly,
Sa that I heir, quhen I haue hy,
That thow be fundin reddy
With Birny & brand.”

“It war my will, worthy, thy schone that thow wan,
And went with thir weryouris wythest in weir;
Heir ar curagious Knichtis, suppois thay the nocht ken,
For thy simpill degre that thow art in heir.
I beseik God of his grace to mak the ane gude man,
And I sall gif the to begin glitterand geir.”
Ane Chalmer with Armour the King gart richt than
Betaucht to ane Squyar, and maid him keipeir.
With clois Armouris of steill for that stout Knicht,
Sextie Squyaris of fee,
Of his retinew to be;
That was ane fair cumpany
Schir Rauf gat that nicht.

Vpon the morne airly, Schir Rauf wald not rest,
Bot in Ryall array he reddyit him to ryde;
For to hald that I haue hecht, I hope it be the best,
To ȝone busteous Beirne that boistit me to byde.
Amang the Galȝart Gromis I am bot ane Gest,
I will the ganandest gait to that gay glyde;
Sall neuer Lord lauch on loft, quhill my lyfe may lest,
That I for liddernes suld leif, and leuand besyde.
It war ane graceles gude that I war cummin to,
Gif that the King hard on hicht
That he had maid ane carll Knicht
Amang thir weryouris wicht,
And docht nocht to do.”

Vpon ane rude Runsy he ruschit out of toun;
In ane Ryall array he rydis full richt;
Euin to the Montane he maid him full boun,
Quhair he had trystit to meit Schir Rolland the Knicht.
Derfly ouir Daillis, discouerand the doun,
Gif ony douchtie that day for Iornayis was dicht.
He band his blonk to ane busk on the brent broun,
Syne baid be the bair way to hald that he had hecht.
Quhill it was neir time of the day that he had thair bene,
He lukit ane lytill him fra,
He sa cummand in thra
The maist man of all tha,
That euer he had sene.

Ane Knicht on ane Cameill come cantly at hand,
With ane curagious countenance, and cruell to se;
He semit baldly to abyde with Birny and with brand,
His blonk was vnburely, braid and ouir hie.
Schir Rauf reddyit him sone, and come rydand,
And in the rowme of ane renk in fewtir kest he;
He seimit fer fellonar than first quhen he him fand,
He foundis throw his forcenes gif he micht him se.
He straik the steid with the spurris, he sprent on the bent;
Sa hard ane cours maid thay,
That baith thair hors deid lay,
Their speiris in splenders away
Abufe thair heid sprent.

Thus war thay for thair forcynes left on fute baith,
Thay sture hors at that straik strikin deid lay than;
Thir riche restles renkis ruschit out full raith,
Cleikit out twa swordis and togidder ran.
Kest thame with gude will to do vther skaith,
Bair on thair basnetis thay Beirnis or thay blan.
Haistely hewit thay togiddir, to leif thay war laith
To tyne the worschip of weir that thay air wan;

Na for dout of vincussing thay went nocht away.
Thus ather vther can assaill
With swordis of mettaill;
Thay maid ane lang battaill
Ane hour of the day.

Thay hard harnest men, thay hewit on in haist;
Thay worthit heuy with heid, and angerit with all;
Quhill thay had maid thame sa mait, thay failȝe almaist,
Sa laith thay war on ather part to lat than price fall.
The riche restles men out of the renk past,
Forwrocht with thair wapnis, and euill rent with all;
Thair was na girth on the ground, quhill ane gaif the gaist;
“ȝarne efter ȝeilding,” on ilk syde thay call.
Schir Rauf caucht to cule him, and tak mair of the licht,
He kest vp his Veseir,
With ane Cheualrous cheir,
Sa saw he cummand full neir
Ane vther kene Knicht.

“Now, be the Rude!” said Schir Rauf, “I repreif the!
Thow hes brokin conditioun, thow hes not done richt:
Thow hecht na bakheir to bring, bot anerly we;
Thairto I tuik thy hand, as thow was trew Knicht.”
On loud said the Saraȝine, “I heir the now lie!
Befoir the same day I saw the neuer with sicht;
Now sall thow think it richt sone, thow hes met with me,
Gif Mahoun or Termagant may mantene my micht.”
Schir Rauf was blyth of that word, & blenkit with his face;
“Thow sayis thow art ane Saraȝine?
Now thankit be Drichtine,
That ane of vs sall neuer hine,
Vndeid in this place.”

Than said the Saraȝine to Schir Rauf succudrously,
“I haue na lyking to lyfe to lat the with lufe.”
He gaue ane braid with his brand to the Beirne by,
Till the blude of his browis brest out abufe.
The kene Knicht in that steid stakkerit sturely,
The lenth of ane rude braid he gart him remufe.
Schir Rauf ruschit vp agane, and hit him in hy;
Thay preis furth properly thair pithis to prufe.
Ilk ane a schort knyfe braidit out sone;
In stour stifly thay stand,
With twa knyfis in hand;
With that come Schir Rolland
As thay had neir done.

The gentill Knicht Schir Rolland come rydand ful richt,
And ruschit fra his Runsy, and ran thame betwene:
He sayis, “thow art ane Saraȝine, I se be my sicht,
For to confound our Christin men, that counteris sa kene.
Tell me thy name tyte, thow trauelland Knicht!
Fy on thy fechting! fell hes thow bene;
Thow art stout and strang, and stalwart in fecht;
Sa is thy fallow in faith, and that is weill sene.
In Christ and thow will trow, thow takis nane outray.”
“Forsuith,” the Saraȝine said,
“Thy self maid me neuer sa affraid
That I for souerance wald haue praid,
Na not sall to day.

“Brief me not with ȝour boist, but mak ȝou baith boun,
Batteris on baldly the best, I ȝow pray.”
“Na,” said Schir Rolland, “that war na resoun,
I trow in the mekle God, that maist of michtis may.
The tane is in power to mak that presoun,
For that war na wassalage sum men wald say;
I rid that thow hartfully forsaik thy Mahoun;
Fy on that foull Feind, for fals is thy fay!

Becum Christin, Schir Knicht, and on Christ call;
It is my will thow conuert,
This wickit warld is bot ane start—
And haue him halely in hart
That maker is of all.”

“Schir Rolland, I rek nocht of thy Rauingis;
Thow dois bot reuerance to thame that rekkis it nocht;
Thow slane hes oft, thy self, of my Counsingis,
Soudanis and sib men, that the with schame socht.
Now faindis to haue fauour with thy fleichingis,
Now haue I ferlie, gif I fauour the ocht;
We sall spuilȝe ȝow dispittously at the nixt springis,
Mak ȝow biggingis full bair, bodword haue I brocht.
Chace Charlis ȝour King fer out of France;
Fra the Chane of Tartarie,
At him this message wald I be,
To tell him as I haue tauld the,
Withoutin plesance.”

“Tyte tell me thy name, it seruis of nocht;
ȝe Saraȝeins ar succuderus and self willit ay,
Sall neuer of sa sour ane brand ane bricht fyre be brocht,
The Feynd is sa felloun als fers as he may.”
“Sa thriue I,” said the Saraȝine, “to threip is my thocht,
Quha waitis the Cristin with cair, my cusingis ar thay;
My name is Magog, in will and I mocht,
To ding thame doun dourly that euer war in my way.
For thy my wary soun is full gude at hame quhair I dwel.”
“In faith,” said Schir Rolland,
“That is full euill wyn land
To haue quhill thow ar leuand,
Sine at thine end hell.

“Wald thow conuert the in hy, and couer the of sin,
Thow suld haue mair profite and mekle pardoun;
Riche Douchereis seir to be sesit in,
During quhill day dawis, that neuer will gang doun;
Wed ane worthie to wyfe, and weild hir with win,
Ane of the riche of our Realme be that ressoun;
The gentill Duches, Dame Iane, that claimis be hir kin
Angeos and vther landis, with mony riche toun.
Thus may thow, and thow will, wirk the best wise,
I do the out of dispair,
In all France is nane so fair
Als scho is, appeirand air
To twa Douchereis.”

“I rek nocht of thy riches, Schir Rolland the Knicht,”
Said the rude Saraȝine in Ryall array,
“Thy God nor thy Grassum set I bot licht;
Bot gif thy God be sa gude as I heir the say,
I will forsaik Mahoun, and tak me to his micht,
Euer mair perpetuallie as he that mair may.
Heir with hart and gude will my treuth I the plicht,
That I sall lelely leif on thy Lord ay,
And I beseik him of Grace, and askis him mercy,
And Christ his Sone full schene,
For I haue Christin men sene,
That in mony angeris hes bene,
Full oft on him cry.”

“I thank God,” said Rolland, “that word lykis me!
And Christ his sweit Sone, that the that grace send.”
Thay swoir on thair swordis swyftlie all thre,
And conseruit thame freindis to thair lyfis end,
Euer in all trauell, to leif and to die.
Thay Knichtis caryit to the court, as Christ had thame kend.
The King for thair cumming maid game and gle,
With mony mirthfull man thair mirthis to mend.

Digne Bischoppis that day, that douchtie gart bring,
And gaue him Sacramentis seir,
And callit him Schir Gawteir,
And sine the Duches cleir
He weddit with ane ring.

Than Schir Rauf gat rewaird to keip his Knichtheid:
Sic tythingis come to the King within thay nyne nicht,
That the Marschell of France was newlingis deid;
Richt thair, with the counsall of mony kene Knicht,
He thocht him richt worthie to byde in his steid,
For to weild that worschip worthie and wicht.
His wyfe wald he nocht forȝet, for dout of Goddis feid.
He send efter that hende, to leif thame in richt,
Syne foundit ane fair place quhair he met the King,
Euer mair perpetually,
In the name of Sanct Iuly,
That all that wantis harbery,
Suld haue gestning.

Finis.

University of Virginia Library

The Taill of RAUF COILȜEAR.