 | Scottish Alliterative Poems |  |
116
THE AWNTYRS OFF ARTHURE AT THE TERNE WATHELYNE.
I
In the tyme of Arthur ane aunter by-tydde,By þe turnewathelane, as þe boke telles,
Whane he to Carlele was comen, and conquerour kydde,
Withe Dukes and dussiperes, þat with þe dere dwelles,
To hunte at þe herdes, þat longe had bene hydde.
One a day þei hem dighte to þe depe delles,
To falle of þe femailes, in forest and frydde,
Fayre by þe firmyschamis, in frithes and felles.
Thus to wode arne þei went, þe wlonkest in wedes,
Bothe þe kyng and þe quene,
And al þe dougheti by-dene;
Sir Gawayne, gayest one grene,
Dame Gaynour he ledes.
II
Thus sir Gawayne þe gay Gaynour he ledes,In a gleterand gide, þat glemed fulle gay,
118
Rayled withe rybees of rialle aray;
Her hode of a herde huwe, þat here hede hedes,
Of pillour, of palwerke, of perre to pay;
Schurde in a short cloke, þat þe rayne shedes,
Set ouer withe saffres, soþely to say,
Withe saffres and seladynes set by þe sides;
Here sadel sette of þat ilke,
Saude withe sambutes of silke;
One a mule as þe mylke
Gaili she glides.
III
Al in gleterand golde gayly ho glidesÞe gates, withe sir Gawayne, bi þe grene welle;
And þat burne one his blonke withe þe quene bides,
Þat borne was in borgoyne, by boke and by belle.
He ladde þat lady so longe by þe lawe sides,
Vnder a lorre þey lighte, loȝe by a felle.
And Arthur, withe his erles, ernestly rides,
To teche hem to her tristres, þe trouthe for to telle.
To here tristres he hem tauȝte, ho þe trouthe trowes,
Eche lorde, withe outene lette,
To ane oke he hem sette,
Withe bowe and withe barselette,
Vnder þe bowes.
IV
Vnder þe bowes þei bode, þes burnes so bolde,To byker at þes baraynes, in bonkes so bare.
There mighte haþeles in hiȝ herdes be-holde,
Herken huntynge in hast, in holtes so hare;
Þei kest of here couples, in cliffes so colde,
Conforte here kenettes, to kele hem of care.
120
Withe fresshe houndes, and fele, þei folowene here fare. [OMITTED]
Withe gret questes and quelles,
Bothe in frethes and felles,
Alle the durere [?] in þe delles,
Þei durkene and dare.
V
Þen durkene þe dere in þe dymme skuwes,Þat for drede of þe dethe droupes þe do,
[OMITTED]
Þai werray þe wilde swyne and worchene hem wo.
The huntes þei halowe, in hurstes and huwes,
And bluwe rechas ryally, þei rane to þe ro;
They gaf to no gamone þat one grounde gruwes;
Þe grete grendes in þe greues so gladly þei go,
So gladly þei gone in greues so grene;
The king blowe rechas,
And folowed fast one þe tras,
Withe many Sergeant of mas,
Þat solas to sene.
VI
Withe solas þei semble, þe pruddest in palle,And suwene to þe souerayne, within schaghes schene;
Al but sir Gawayne, gayest of alle,
Beleues withe Dame Gaynour in greues so grene.
Vnder a lorer ho was liȝte, þat lady so smalle,
Of box and of berber bigged ful bene;
122
And þis mekel mervaile þat I shal of mene;
Now wol I of þis mervaile mene, if I mote;
The day wex als dirke
As hit were mydniȝte myrke,
There of þe king was irke,
And liȝte one his fote.
VII
Thus to fote ar þei farene, þes frekes vnfayne,And fleene fro þe Forest to þe fewe felles; [OMITTED]
For þe sneterand snawe snartly hem snelles.
There come a lede of þe lawe, in londe is not to layne, [OMITTED]
And glides to sir Gawayne, þe gates to gayne,
Ȝauland and ȝomerand, with many loude ȝelles.
Hit ȝaules, hit ȝameres, with waymynges wete,
And seid withe siking sare:
“I bane þe body me bare;
Alas! now kindeles my care,
I gloppen and I grete!”
VIII
Then gloppenet and grete Gaynour þe gay,And seid to sir Gawene: “what is þi good rede?”
“Hit ar þe clippes of þe sone, I herd a clerk say;”
And þus he confortes þe quene for his kniȝthede.
“Sir Cadour, sir Clegis, sir Costardyne, sir Cay,
Þes knyȝtes arne vncurtays, by crosse and by crede,
Þat þus oonly haue me laft one my deþe day,
124
“Of þe goost,” quod þe grome, “greue you no mare,
For I shal speke withe þe sprete,
And of þe wayes I shalle wete,
What may þe bales bete
Of þe bodi bare.”
IX
Bare was þe body, and blake to þe bone,Al bi-clagged in clay, vncomly cladde;
Hit waried, hit wayment as a womane,
But on hide, ne on huwe, no heling hit hadde.
Hit stemered, hit stonayde, hit stode as a stone,
Hit marred, hit memered, hit mused for madde.
Agayne þe grisly goost sir Gawayne is gone;
He rayked oute at a res, for was neuer drad;
Drad was he neuer, ho so righte redes.
On þe chef of þe clolle,
A pade pikes one þe polle,
Withe eighen holked ful holle,
That gloed as þe gledes.
X
Al glowed as a glede þe goste þere ho glides,Vmbeclipped him with a cloude, of cleyng vnclere,
Skeled withe serpentes alle aboute þe sides;
To telle þe todes þereone my tonge were fulle tere.
Þe burne braides oute þe bronde, and þe body bides;
Therefor þe cheualrous kniȝte changed no chere;
Þe houndes hiȝene to þe wode, and here hede hides,
For þe grisly goost made a gryme bere.
126
Þe birdes in þe bowes,
Þat one þe goost glowes,
Þei skryke in þe skowes,
Þat haþeles may here.
XI
Haþelese miȝt here, so fer into halle,How chatered þe cholle, þe chalus one þe chynne.
Þene coniured þe kniȝte, one crist cone he calle:
“As þou was crucifiged one croys, to clanse vs of syne,
That þou sei me þe sothe, wheþer þou shalle,
And whi þou walkest þes wayes, þe wodes with-in?”
“I was of figure and face fairest of alle,
Cristened and knowene with kinges in my kynne.
I haue kinges in my kyne, knowene for kene;
God has me gevene of his grace
To dre my paynes in þis place,
I ame comene in þis cace
To speke with your quene.
XII
Quene was I some wile, brighter of browesThene berelle or Brangwayne, þes burdes so bolde;
Of al gamene or gle, þat one grounde growes,
Gretter þene dame Gaynour, of Garsone and golde,
Of palaies, of parkes, of pondes, of plowes,
Of townes, of toures, of tresour vntolde,
Of Castelles, of contreyes, of cragges, of clowes;
Now ame I cauȝte oute of kide to cares so colde,
Into care am I caughte, and couched in clay.
128
How delfulle dethe has me diȝte!
Lete me onys haue a sighte
Of Gaynour þe gay.”
XIII
After Gaynour þe gay sir Gawyne is gone,And to þe body he here brouȝte, and to þe burde brighte.
“Welcome, Waynour, I wis, worthi in wone,
Lo! how delful dethe has þi dame diȝte!
I was radder of rode þene rose in þe rone,
My lere as þe lele, louched one highte;
Now am I a graceles gost, and grisly I grone;
Withe lucyfer in a lake loȝ am I lighte.
Take truly tent tiȝte nowe by me:
For al þi fresshe foroure
Muse one my mirrour,
For, king and Emperour,
Thus shul ye be.
XIV
Þus dethe wil ȝou diȝte, thare you not doute;Þere one hertly take hede, while þou art here,
Whane þou art richest araied, and ridest in þi route;
Haue pite one þe poer, þou art of powere.
Burnes and burdes, þat bene þe aboute,
Whene þi body is bamed, and brouȝte one a bere,
Þene lite wyne þe lighte, þat now wil þe loute;
For þene þe helpes no þing, but holy praiere.
Þe praier of poer may purchas þe pes,
130
Whan þou art set in þi sete,
Withe al merthes at mete,
And dayntes on des.
XV
Withe riche dayntes on des þi diotes art diȝte,And I in danger and doel in dongone I dwelle,
Naxte and nedefulle, naked one nighte;
Þer folo me a ferde of fendes of helle;
Þey hurle me vnhendely, þei harme me in hiȝte;
In bras and in brymstone, I brene as a belle;
Was neuer wroughte in þis world a wofuller wighte;
Hit were ful tore any tonge my turment to telle!
Nowe wil y of my turment tel, or I go.
Thenk hertly one þis,
Fonde to mende thi mys;
Thou art warned y-wys,
Beware be my wo.”
XVI
“Wo is me for þi wo!” quod Waynour, “y-wys,But one þing wold I wite, if þi wil ware;
If auþer matens or mas miȝte mende þi mys,
Or eny meble one molde, my merthe were þe mare;
If bedis of bisshopps miȝte bring þe to blisse,
Or couentes in cloistre miȝte kere þe of care;
If þou be my moder, grete wonder hit is
That al þi burly body is brouȝte to be so bare!”
“I bare þe of my body; what bote is hit I layne?
I brake a solempne a-vowe,
132
By þat tokene þou trowe
Þat soþely I sayne.”
XVII
“Say soþely what may þe sauene y-wys,And I shal make sere mene to singe for þi sake;
But þe baleful bestes, þat one þi body is,
Al bledis my ble, þi bones arne so blake.”
“Þat is luf paramour, listes and delites,
Þat has me liȝte and laft loȝ in a lake;
Al þe welthe of þe world, þat awey witis,
Withe þe wilde wormes, þat worche me wrake;
Wrake þei me worchene, Waynour, I wys;
Were thritty trentales done,
By-twene vnder and none,
Mi soule socoured withe sone,
And broughte to þe blys.”
XVIII
“To blisse bring þe þe barne, þat boughte þe one rode,Þat was crucifiged one croys, and crowned with þorne;
As þou was cristened and crisomed with candel and code,
Folowed in fontestone, one frely byforne;
Mary þe miȝeti, myldest of mode,
Of whome þe blisful barme in bedlem was borne,
Lene me grace þat I may grete þe with gode,
And mynge þe withe matens and masses one morne.”
“To mende vs with masses, grete myster hit were;
134
Gyf fast of þi goode
To folke þat failene þe fode,
While þou art here.”
XIX
“Here hertly my honde, þes hestes to holde,Withe a myllione of masses to make þe mynnyng.
A!” quod Waynour, “I wis, yit wetene I wolde
What wrathede god moste, at þi weting?”
“Pride, with þe appurtenaunce, as propheteȝ hane tolde,
Bifore þe peple, apt in here preching.
Hit beres bowes bitter, þerof be þou bolde,
Þat makes burnes so bly to breke his bidding.
But ho his bidding brekes, bare þei bene of blys;
But þei be salued of þat sare,
Er þey heþene fare,
They mone wetene of care,
Waynour, y-wys.”
XX
“Wysse me,” quod Waynour, “some wey, if þou wost,What bedis miȝte me best to þe blisse bringe.”
“Mekenesse and mercy, þes arne þe moost;
And siþene haue pite one þe poer, þat pleses heuen king;
Siþene charite is chef, and þene is chaste,
And þene almesse dede cure al þing;
Þes arne þe graceful giftes of þe holy goste,
Þat enspires iche sprete, withe oute speling.
Of þis spiritual þing spute þou no mare;
136
Hold þes wordes in hert;
Þou shal leve but a stert;
Heþene shal þou fare.”
XXI
“How shal we fare,” quod þe freke, “þat fondene to fighteAnd þus defoulene þe folke, one fele kinges londes,
And riches ouer reymes with outene eny righte,
Wynnene worshippe in werre þorghe wightnesse of hondes?”
“Your king is to couetous, I warne þe, sir kniȝte;
May no mane stry him withe strength, while his whele stondes;
Whane he is in his mageste, moost in his miȝte,
He shal lighte ful lowe one þe se sondes,
And this chiualrous kniȝte chef shalle þorgh chaunce,
Falsely fordone in fighte,
With a wonderfulle wighte,
Shalle make lordes to liȝte;
Take witnesse by Fraunce.
XXII
Fraunce haf ye frely with your fight wonnene;Freol and his folke fey ar þey leued;
Bretayne in burgoyne al to you bowene,
And al þe Dussiperes of Fraunce with your dyn deued.
Gyane may grete þe werre was bigonene;
There ar no lordes one lyue in þat londe leued.
Yet shal þe riche remayns with one be aure-ronene,
And with þe rounde table þe rentes be reued.
Thus shal a Tyber vntrue tymber with tene.
138
Turne þe to Tuskayne;
For ye shul lese Bretayne,
With a king kene.
XXIII
This knighte shal be clanly enclosed with a crowne,And at Carlele shal þat comly be crowned as king;
A sege shal he seche with a cessione,
Þat myche baret and bale to bretayne shal bring.
Hit shal in Tuskane be tolde of þe tresone,
And ye shullene turne ayene fore þe tying;
Þere shal þe rounde table lese þe renoune,
Beside Ramsey, ful rad at a riding;
In dorset shire shal dy þe doughetest of alle.
Gete þe, sir Gawayne,
The boldest of bretayne;
In a slake þou shal be slayne,
Siche ferlyes shulle falle.
XXIV
Suche ferlies shulle fal, withoute eny fable,Vppone Cornewayle coost, withe a knighte kene;
Sir Arthur þe honest, auenant and able,
He shal be wounded, I wys, woþely, I wene;
And al þe rial rowte of þe rounde table,
Þei shullene dye one a day, þe doughety by-dene,
Suppriset with a surget; he beris hit in sable,
With a sauter engreled of siluer fulle shene.
He beris hit of sable, soþely to say;
140
The barne playes at þe balle,
Þat outray shalle you alle
Delfully þat day.
XXV
Haue gode day, Gaynour, and Gawayne þe gode!I haue no lenger tome tidinges telle;
I mot walke one my wey, þorgh þis wilde wode,
In my wonyng stid in wo for to dwelle.
Fore him þat rightwisly rose, and rest one þe rode,
Þenke one þe danger þat I yne dwelle;
Fede folke, fore my sake, þat failene þe fode,
And menge me with matens and masse in melle.
Masses arne medecynes to vs þat bale bides;
Vs þenke a masse as swete
As eny spice þat euer ye yete.”
With a grisly grete
Þe goste a-wey glides.
XXVI
Withe a grisly grete þe goost a-wey glides,And goes withe gronyng sore þorgh þe greues grene.
Þe wyndes, þe weders, þe welkene vnhides;
Þene vnclosed þe cloudes, þe sone con shene.
The king his bugle has blowene, and one þe bent bides;
His fare folke in þe frithe þei flokkene by-dene,
And al þe rialle route to þe quene rides;
She sayes hem þe selcouþes þat þei hadde þer seene;
The wise of þe weder for-wondred þey were;
142
Dame Gaynour and alle,
Went to Rondoles halle,
To þe suppere.
XXVII
The king to souper is set, serued in halle,Vnder a siller of silke, dayntly diȝte,
Withe al worshippe and wele menewith þe walle,
Briddes brandene and brad in bankers brighte.
Þere come in a soteler with a symballe,
A lady, lufsom of lote, ledand a kniȝte.
Ho raykes vp in a res bifor þe rialle,
And halsed sir Arthur, hendly one hiȝte.
Ho said to þe souerayne, wlonkest in wede:
“Mone makeles of mighte,
Here commes ane errant kniȝte;
Do him resone and riȝte,
For þi manhede.
XXVIII
Mone, in þy mantelle, þat sittes at þi mete,In pal pured to pay, prodly pight!” [OMITTED]
Þe tasses were of topas, þat were þere to tiȝte;
He gliffed vp with his eighen, þat grey were and grete,
With his beueren berde, on þat burde bright.
He was þe soueraynest of al sitting in sete
Þat euer segge had sene with his eȝe sighte.
King crowned in kithe, talkes hir tille:
144
He shal haue resone and righte;
Wheþene is þe comli kniȝte,
If hit be þi wille?”
XXIX
Ho was þe worþiest wighte þat eny wede wolde;Here gide was glorious and gay, of a gresse grene;
Here belle was of blunket, with birdes ful bolde,
Branded with brende golde, and bokeled ful bene;
Here fax in fyne perre was fretted in folde,
Contrefelet and kelle, coloured fulle clene;
With a crowne craftly, al of clene golde;
Here kercheues were curiouse, with many proude pene;
Here perre was praysed with prise mene of mighte.
Bright birdes and bolde,
Had I nore to be holde,
Of þat frely to folde,
And one þe hende knight.
XXX
The knighte in his colours was armed ful clene,Withe his comly crest, clere to be-holde;
His brene and his basnet, burneshed ful bene,
With a brandure aboughte, al of brende golde;
His mayles were mylke white, many hit seene;
His horse trapped of that ilke, as true men me tolde;
His shelde one his shulder, of siluer so shene,
With bere hedes of blake, browed ful bolde.
146
And in his cheuerone biforne,
Stode as ane vnicorne,
Als sharp as a þorne,
An Anlas of stele.
XXXI
In stele he was stuffed, þat stourne vppone stede,Al of sternes of golde his pencelle displaied;
His gloues, his gamesons glowed as a glede,
With graynes of rebe þat graied bene gay;
And his schene schynbandes, þat sharp were to shrede.
His polemus with pelicocus were poudred to pay;
Withe a launce one loft þat louely cone lede;
A freke one a fresone him folowed, in fay.
The Fresone was a-fered, for drede of þat fare,
For he was seldene wonte to se
The tablet flure,
Siche gamen ne gle,
Saȝ he neuer are.
XXXII
Arthur asked one hiȝte, herand hem alle:“What woldes þou, wee, if hit be thi wille?
Tel me what þou seches, and wheþer þou shalle,
And whi, þou sturne one þi stede, stondes so stille?”
He wayned vp his viser fro his ventalle,
With a knightly contenaunce he carpes him tille:
“Wheþer þou Cayser or king, here I þe be-calle,
Fore to finde me a freke, to fight with my fille;
Fighting to fraist I fonded fro home.”
148
“If þou be curteys kniȝte,
Late lenge al nyȝte,
And tel me þi nome.”
XXXIII
“Mi name is sir Galarone, withe outene eny gile,Þe grettest of Galwey, of greues and grylles,
Of connok, of Conyngham, and also kyle,
Of lomond, of losex, of loyane hilles.
Þou has wonene hem in werre, with a wrange wille,
And geuen hem to sir Gawayne, þat my hert grylles.
But he shal wring his honde, and warry þe wyle,
Er he weld hem, y-wys, agayne myne vmwylles.
Bi al þe welthe of þe worlde, he shal hem neuer welde,
While I þe hede may bere,
But if he wyne hem in were,
Withe a shelde and a Spere,
On a faire felde.
XXXIV
I wol fiȝte one a felde, þereto I make feithe,Withe eny freke vppone folde, þat frely is borne.
To lese suche a lordshippe me wold thenke laithe,
And iche lede opone lyue wold laghe me to scorne.”
“We ar in þe wode went, to walke one oure waithe,
To hunte at þe hertes with hounde and with horne;
We ar in oure gamene, we haue no gome graiþe;
But yet þou shalt be mached be mydday to morne.
For þi I rede þe, þenke rest al niȝte.”
150
Ledes him oute of the halle,
Into a pavilone of palle,
Þat prodly was piȝte.
XXXV
Piȝte was prodly, with purpour and palle,Birdes braudene aboue, in brend golde briȝte;
In-withe was a chapelle, a chambour, a halle,
A chymne with charcole, to chaufe þe kniȝte.
His stede was stabled, and led to þe stalle,
Hay hertly he had in haches one highte.
Siþene þei braide vp a borde, and cloþes þei calle,
Sanape and saler, semly to sighte,
Torches and brochetes, and stondardes bitwene.
Thus þei serued þat kniȝte,
And his worþely wiȝte,
With riche dayntes diȝte,
In siluer so shene.
XXXVI
In siluer so semely were serued of þe best,With vernage, in veres and cuppes ful clene;
And þus sir Gawayne þe good glades hour geste
With riche dayntees endored, in disshes by-dene.
Whane þe rialle renke was gone to his reste,
The king to counsaile has called his kniȝtes so kene:
“Loke nowe, lordes, oure lose be not lost;
Ho shal encontre with þe kniȝte, kestes you bitwene.”
Thene seid Gawayne þe goode: “shal hit not greue;
152
I wolle fight with þe knighte,
In defence of my riȝte,
Lorde, by your leue.”
XXXVII
“I leue wel,” quod þe king, “þi lates ar liȝte;But I nolde, for no lordeshippe, se þi life lorne.”
“Let go,” quod sir Gawayne, “god stond with þe riȝte!
If he skape skaþelese, hit were a foule skorne.”
In þe daying of þe day þe doughti were dighte,
And herdene matens and masse, erly one morne.
By þat on plumtone land a palais was piȝte,
Were neuer freke opone folde had fouȝtene biforne.
Þei settene listes by lyne one þe loȝ lande.
Thre soppes de mayne
Þei broughte to sir Gawayne,
For to confort his brayne,
Þe king gared commaunde.
XXXVIII
The king commaunded krudely, þe erlis sone of kent,Curtaysly in þis case take kepe to þe kniȝt.
With riche dayntees or day he dyned in his tente;
After buskes him in a brene, þat burneshed was briȝte,
Siþene to Waynour wisly he went;
He laft in here warde his worthly wighte.
After aither in highe hour horses þei hent,
And at þe listes one þe lande lordely done liȝte,
Bothe þes two burnes, baldest of blode.
154
Quene one a chacelet,
Many galiard gret,
For Gawayne þe gode.
XXXIX
Gawayne and Galerone gurdene here stedes,Al in gleterand golde gay was here gere;
Þe lordes by-lyue hom to list ledes
With many seriant of mace, as was þe manere.
The burnes broched þe blonkes þat þe side bledis.
Ayþer freke opone folde has fastned his spere;
Shaftes in shide wode þei shindre in shedes;
So iolile þes gentil Iusted one were!
Shaftes þei shindre in sheldes so shene,
And siþene, withe brondes brighte,
Riche mayles þei riȝte;
There encontres þe kniȝt
With Gawayne one grene.
XL
Gawyne was gaily graþed in grene,Withe his Griffons of golde engreled fulle gay,
Trifeled withe tranes, and true loves bitwene;
On a stargand stede þat strikes one stray,
Þat oþer in his turnaying he talkes in tene:
“Whi drawes þou þe on dreghe, and makes siche deray?”
He swapped him yne at þe swyre, with a swerde kene,
That greued sir Gawayne to his deþ day.
The dyntes of þat doughety were doutwis by-dene;
Fifte mayles and mo,
The swerde swapt in two
The canel bone also,
And clef his shelde shene.
156
XLI
He clef þorghe þe cantelle þat couered þe kniȝte,Thorghe þe shinand shelde a shaftmone and mare;
And þene þe lady loude lowe vppone highte,
And Gawayne greches þerwith, and gremed ful sare.
“I shal rewarde þe þi route, if I cone rede righte.”
He folowed in one þe Freke withe a fresshe fare,
Þorghe blasone and brene, þat burneshed were briȝte;
Withe a burliche bronde thorghe him he bare,
The bronde was blody þat burneshed was briȝte.
Then gloppened þat gay;
Hit was no ferly, in fay,
Þe sturne strikes one stray,
In stiropes striȝte.
XLII
Streyte in his steroppes, stoutely he strikes,And waynes at sir Wawayne, als he were wode;
Þene his lemmane on lowde skirles and skirkes,
Whene þat burly burne blenket one blode.
Lordes and ladies of þat laike likes,
And þonked god fele sithe for Gawayne þe gode.
Withe a swap of a swerde þat swaþel him swykes;
He stroke of þe stede hede streite þere he stode.
The faire fole fondred, and fel to þe grounde;
Gawayne gloppened in hert,
Of he were hasty and smert,
Oute of sterops he stert,
Fro grisselle þe goode.
XLIII
“Grisselle,” quod Gawayne, “gone is, god wote!He was þe burlokest blonke, þat euer bote brede!
158
I shalle venge þe to day, if I cone right rede.
Go fecche me my fresone, fairest one fote.
He may stonde þe in stoure, in as mekle stede;
No more for þe faire fole þene for a risshe rote,
But for doel of þe dombe best, þat þus shuld be dede;
I mourne for no monture, for I may gete mare.”
Als he stode by his stede,
Þat was so goode at nede,
Ner Gawayne wax wede,
So siked he sare.
XLIV
Thus wepus for wo Wowayne þe wighte,And wenys him to quyte þat wonded is sare;
Þat oþer droȝ him on dreȝt, for drede of þe kniȝte,
And boldely broched his blonk one þe bent bare.
“Þus may þou dryve forthe þe day to þe derke nighte!”
The sone was passed, by þat, mydday and mare.
Withe in þe listes þe lede lordly done lighte;
Touard þe burne withe his bronde, he busked him þare;
To bataile þey bowe withe brondes so brighte;
Shene sheldes were shred,
Brighte brenes by-bled,
Many douȝeti were a-dred,
So fersely þei fighte!
XLV
Thus þei feght one fote, one þat faire felde,As fresshe as a lyone þat fautes þe fille;
Wilele þes wighte mene þaire wepenes þey welde, [OMITTED]
He bronched him yne withe his bronde, vnder þe brode shelde,
Þorghe þe waast of þe body, and wonded him ille.
Þe swerd stent for no stuf, hit was so wel steled;
Þat oþer startis one bak, and stondis stone stille.
160
He gurdes to sir Gawayne,
Thorghe ventaile and pesayne;
He wanted noȝte to be slayne
Þe brede of ane hare.
XLVI
Hardely þene þes haþelese one helmes þey hewe,Þei betene downe beriles, and bourdures bright;
Shildes one shildres, þat shene were to shewe,
Fretted were in fyne golde, þei failene in fighte;
Stones of Iral þey strenkel and strewe,
Stiþe stapeles of stele þey strike done stiȝte;
Burnes bannene þe tyme þe bargane was brewe,
The dougheti withe dyntes so delfully were dight.
Thene gretes Gaynour, with bothe here gray ene,
For þo douȝeti þat fiȝte,
Were manly mached of mighte,
Withe oute resone or righte,
As al mene sene.
XLVII
Thus gretis Gaynour, withe boþe here gray yene,For gref of sir Gawayne, grisly was wounded;
The knighte of corage was cruel and kene,
And withe a stele bronde þat sturne oft stonded;
Al þe cost of knyȝt he carf downe clene,
Þorghe þe riche mailes, þat ronke were and rounde.
With a teneful touche he taȝt him in tene;
He gurdes sir Galerone groueling on gronde.
Grisly one gronde he groned one grene;
Als wounded as he was,
Sone buredely he ras,
And folowed fast one his tras,
With a swerde kene.
162
XLVIII
Kenely þat cruel keuered one hiȝte,And withe a scas of care in cautil he strikes,
And waynes at sir Wawyne, þat worþely wighte;
But him lymped þe worse, and þat me wel likes.
He atteled withe a slenke haf slayne him in sliȝte;
Þe swerd swapped one his swange, and one þe mayle slikes,
And Gawayne bi þe coler keppes þe kniȝte.
Þene his lemmane one loft skrilles and skrikes;
Ho gretes one Gaynour, with gronyng grylle;
“Lady makeles of mighte,
Haf mercy one yondre kniȝte,
That is so delfulle diȝte,
If hit be thi wille.”
XLIX
Wisly dame Waynour to þe king wente,Ho cauȝte of her coronalle, and kneled him tille:
“As þou art ioy roiall, richest of rente,
And I þi wife, wedded at þi owne wille,
Þes burnes in þe bataile so blede on þe bente,
They arne wery, I wis, and wonded fulle ille;
Þorghe here shene sheldes here shuldres are shent;
The grones of sir Gawayne dos my hert grille.
The grones of sir Gawayne greuene me sare;
Woldest þou, leve lorde,
Make þes knightes accorde,
Hit were a grete conforde
For alle þat þere ware.”
164
L
Thene spak sir Galerone to Gawayne þe good:“I wende neuer wee in þis world had bene half so wiȝte;
Here I make þe releyse, renke, by þe rode,
And by rial reysone relese þe my righte;
And siþene make the monradene, with a mylde mode,
As mane of medlert makeles of mighte.”
He talkes touard þe king one hie þer he stode,
And bede þat burly his bronde, þat burneshed was briȝte.
“Of rentes and richesse I make þe releyse.”
Downe kneled þe kniȝte,
And carped wordes one hiȝte;
The king stode vp righte
And commaunded pes.
LI
The king commaunded pes, and cried one hiȝte,And Gawayne was goodly, and laft for his sake.
Þene lordes to listes þey lopen ful liȝte,
Sir Ewayne fiȝ Griane, and Arrak fiȝ lake,
Sir Drurelat and Moylard, þat most were of miȝte.
Boþe þes trauayled mene þey truly vp take;
Vnnethe miȝte þo sturne stonde vp riȝte;
What for buffetes and blode, here blees wex blake;
Here blees were brosed, for beting of brondes.
Withe outene more lettynge,
Diȝte was here saȝtlynge;
Bifore þe comly kinge,
Þei held vp here hondes.
166
LII
“Here I gif sir Gawayne, with gersone and golde,Al þe Glamergane londe, with greues so grene;
Þe worship of Wales, at wil and al wolde,
Withe Criffones Castelles, curnelled ful clene;
Eke Vlstur halle, to hafe and to holde,
Wayford and Waterforde in Wales, I wene;
Two baronrees in Bretayne, with burghes so bolde,
Þat arne batailed abouȝte, and bigged ful bene.
I shal diȝte þe a Duke, and dubbe þe with honde,
Withe þi þou saȝtil with þe kniȝte,
Þat is so hardi and wiȝte,
And relese him his riȝte,
And graunte him his londe.”
LIII
“Here I gif sir Galerone,” quod G[awayne], “with outen any gile,Al þe londes and þe lithes, fro lauer to layre,
Connoke and carlele, Conyngham and Kile,
Yet if he of cheualry chalange ham [?] for aire;
Þe loþer, þe lemmoke, þe loynak, þe lile,
Withe frethis and forestes, and fosses so faire;
Vnder your lordeship to lenge here a while,
And to þe rounde table to make repaire.
I shall refeff him in felde, in forestes so faire.”
168
And al þe douȝti by-dene,
Þorghe þe greues so grene,
Carlele þei caire.
LIV
The king to Carlele is comene, with kniȝtes so kene,And al þe rounde table one rial aray.
Þe wees, þat werene wounded so woþely, I wene,
Surgenes sone saued, soþely to say;
Bothe confortes þe knightes, þe king and þe quene;
Thei were dubbed Dukes, bothe one a day.
There he wedded his wife, wlonkest, I wene,
Withe giftes and garsons, sir Galerone þe gay.
Þus þat haþel in hiȝ with holdes þat hende;
Whane he was saued sonde,
Þei made sir Galerone þat stonde
A kniȝte of þe table ronde,
To his lyues ende.
LV
Waynour gared wisely write in þe west,To al þe religious to rede and to singe;
Prestes with processione to pray were prest,
With a mylione of masses to make þe mynnynge.
Boke lered mene, bisshops þe best,
Þorghe al Bretayne besely þe burde gared rynge.
Þis ferely bifelle in englond forest,
170
Suche a huntyng in haast is noȝte to be hide.
Thus to forest þey fore,
Þes sterne knightes in store;
In þe tyme of Arthore,
This anter be-tide.
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