Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Middle English)

Fit I
SIÞEN þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye, Þe borȝ brittened and brent to brondeȝ and askez, Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wroȝt Watz tried for his tricherie, þe trewest on erþe: Hit watz Ennias þe athel, and his highe kynde, Þat siþen depreced prouinces, and patrounes bicome Welneȝe of al þe wele in þe west iles. Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyþe, With gret bobbaunce þat burȝe he biges vpon fyrst, And neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat; Tirius to Tuskan and teldes bigynnes, Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes, And fer ouer þe French flod Felix Brutus On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settez wyth wynne, Where werre and wrake and wonder Bi syþez hatz wont þerinne, And oft boþe blysse and blunder Ful skete hatz skyfted synne.

Ande quen þis Bretayn watz bigged bi þis burn rych, Bolde bredden þerinne, baret þat lofden, In mony turned tyme tene þat wroȝten. Mo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft Þen in any oþer þat I wot, syn þat ilk tyme. Bot of alle þat here bult, of Bretaygne kynges, Ay watz Arthur þe hendest, as I haf herde telle. Forþi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe, Þat a selly in siȝt summe men hit holden, And an outtrage awenture of Arthurez wonderez. If ȝe wyl lysten þis laye bot on littel quile, I schal telle hit as-tit, as I in toun herde, with tonge, As hit is stad and stoken In stori stif and stronge, With lel letteres loken, In londe so hatz ben longe.

Þis kyng lay at Camylot vpon Krystmasse With mony luflych lorde, ledez of þe best, Rekenly of þe Rounde Table alle þo rich breþer, With rych reuel oryȝt and rechles merþes. Þer tournayed tulkes by tymez ful mony, Justed ful jolilé þise gentyle kniȝtes, Syþen kayred to þe court caroles to make. For þer þe fest watz ilyche ful fiften dayes, With alle þe mete and þe mirþe þat men couþe avyse; Such glaum ande gle glorious to here, Dere dyn vpon day, daunsyng on nyȝtes, Al watz hap vpon heȝe in hallez and chambrez With lordez and ladies, as leuest him þoȝt. With all þe wele of þe worlde þay woned þer samen, Þe most kyd knyȝtez vnder Krystes seluen, And þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden, And he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes; For al watz þis fayre folk in her first age, on sille, Þe hapnest vnder heuen, Kyng hyȝest mon of wylle; Hit were now gret nye to neuen So hardy a here on hille.

Wyle Nw Ȝer watz so ȝep þat hit watz nwe cummen, Þat day doubble on þe dece watz þe douth serued. Fro þe kyng watz cummen with knyȝtes into þe halle, Þe chauntré of þe chapel cheued to an ende, Loude crye watz þer kest of clerkez and oþer, Nowel nayted onewe, neuened ful ofte; And syþen riche forth runnen to reche hondeselle, Ȝeȝed ȝeres-ȝiftes on hiȝ, ȝelde hem bi hond, Debated busyly aboute þo giftes; Ladies laȝed ful loude, þoȝ þay lost haden, And he þat wan watz not wrothe, þat may ȝe wel trawe. Alle þis mirþe þay maden to þe mete tyme; When þay had waschen worþyly þay wenten to sete, Þe best burne ay abof, as hit best semed, Whene Guenore, ful gay, grayþed in þe myddes, Dressed on þe dere des, dubbed al aboute, Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer Of tryed tolouse, and tars tapites innoghe, Þat were enbrawded and beten wyth þe best gemmes Þat myȝt be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye, in daye. Þe comlokest to discrye Þer glent with yȝen gray, A semloker þat euer he syȝe Soth moȝt no mon say.

Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued, He watz so joly of his joyfnes, and sumquat childgered: His lif liked hym lyȝt, he louied þe lasse Auþer to longe lye or to longe sitte, So bisied him his ȝonge blod and his brayn wylde. And also an oþer maner meued him eke Þat he þurȝ nobelay had nomen, he wolde neuer ete Vpon such a dere day er hym deuised were Of sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale, Of sum mayn meruayle, þat he myȝt trawe, Of alderes, of armes, of oþer auenturus, Oþer sum segg hym bisoȝt of sum siker knyȝt To joyne wyth hym in iustyng, in jopardé to lay, Lede, lif for lyf, leue vchon oþer, As fortune wolde fulsun hom, þe fayrer to haue. Þis watz þe kynges countenaunce where he in court were, At vch farand fest among his fre meny in halle. Þerfore of face so fere He stiȝtlez stif in stalle, Ful ȝep in þat Nw Ȝere Much mirthe he mas withalle.

Thus þer stondes in stale þe stif kyng hisseluen, Talkkande bifore þe hyȝe table of trifles ful hende. There gode Gawan watz grayþed Gwenore bisyde, And Agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat oþer syde sittes, Boþe þe kynges sistersunes and ful siker kniȝtes; Bischop Bawdewyn abof biginez þe table, And Ywan, Vryn son, ette with hymseluen. Þise were diȝt on þe des and derworþly serued, And siþen mony siker segge at þe sidbordez. Þen þe first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes, Wyth mony baner ful bryȝt þat þerbi henged; Nwe nakryn noyse with þe noble pipes, Wylde werbles and wyȝt wakned lote, Þat mony hert ful hiȝe hef at her towches. Dayntés dryuen þerwyth of ful dere metes, Foysoun of þe fresche, and on so fele disches Þat pine to fynde þe place þe peple biforne For to sette þe sylueren þat sere sewes halden on clothe. Iche lede as he loued hymselue Þer laght withouten loþe; Ay two had disches twelue, Good ber and bryȝt wyn boþe.

Now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more, For vch wyȝe may wel wit no wont þat þer were. An oþer noyse ful newe neȝed biliue, Þat þe lude myȝt haf leue liflode to cach; For vneþe watz þe noyce not a whyle sesed, And þe fyrst cource in þe court kyndely serued, Þer hales in at þe halle dor an aghlich mayster, On þe most on þe molde on mesure hyghe; Fro þe swyre to þe swange so sware and so þik, And his lyndes and his lymes so longe and so grete, Half etayn in erde I hope þat he were, Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene, And þat þe myriest in his muckel þat myȝt ride; For of bak and of brest al were his bodi sturne, Both his wombe and his wast were worthily smale, And alle his fetures folȝande, in forme þat he hade, ful clene; For wonder of his hwe men hade, Set in his semblaunt sene; He ferde as freke were fade, And oueral enker-grene.

Ande al grayþed in grene þis gome and his wedes: A strayte cote ful streȝt, þat stek on his sides, A meré mantile abof, mensked withinne With pelure pured apert, þe pane ful clene With blyþe blaunner ful bryȝt, and his hod boþe, Þat watz laȝt fro his lokkez and layde on his schulderes; Heme wel-haled hose of þat same, Þat spenet on his sparlyr, and clene spures vnder Of bryȝt golde, vpon silk bordes barred ful ryche, And scholes vnder schankes þere þe schalk rides; And alle his vesture uerayly watz clene verdure, Boþe þe barres of his belt and oþer blyþe stones, Þat were richely rayled in his aray clene Aboutte hymself and his sadel, vpon silk werkez. Þat were to tor for to telle of tryfles þe halue Þat were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes and flyȝes, With gay gaudi of grene, þe golde ay inmyddes. Þe pendauntes of his payttrure, þe proude cropure, His molaynes, and alle þe metail anamayld was þenne, Þe steropes þat he stod on stayned of þe same, And his arsounz al after and his aþel skyrtes, Þat euer glemered and glent al of grene stones; Þe fole þat he ferkkes on fyn of þat ilke, sertayn, A grene hors gret and þikke, A stede ful stif to strayne, In brawden brydel quik — To þe gome he watz ful gayn.

Wel gay watz þis gome gered in grene, And þe here of his hed of his hors swete. Fayre fannand fax vmbefoldes his schulderes; A much berd as a busk ouer his brest henges, Þat wyth his hiȝlich here þat of his hed reches Watz euesed al vmbetorne abof his elbowes, Þat half his armes þer-vnder were halched in þe wyse Of a kyngez capados þat closes his swyre; Þe mane of þat mayn hors much to hit lyke, Wel cresped and cemmed, wyth knottes ful mony Folden in wyth fildore aboute þe fayre grene, Ay a herle of þe here, an oþer of golde; Þe tayl and his toppyng twynnen of a sute, And bounden boþe wyth a bande of a bryȝt grene, Dubbed wyth ful dere stonez, as þe dok lasted, Syþen þrawen wyth a þwong a þwarle knot alofte, Þer mony bellez ful bryȝt of brende golde rungen. Such a fole vpon folde, ne freke þat hym rydes, Watz neuer sene in þat sale wyth syȝt er þat tyme, with yȝe. He loked as layt so lyȝt, So sayd al þat hym syȝe; Hit semed as no mon myȝt Vnder his dynttez dryȝe.

Wheþer hade he no helme ne hawbergh nauþer, Ne no pysan ne no plate þat pented to armes, Ne no schafte ne no schelde to schwue ne to smyte, Bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe, Þat is grattest in grene when greuez ar bare, And an ax in his oþer, a hoge and vnmete, A spetos sparþe to expoun in spelle, quoso myȝt. Þe lenkþe of an elnȝerde þe large hede hade, Þe grayn al of grene stele and of golde hewen, Þe bit burnyst bryȝt, with a brod egge As wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores, Þe stele of a stif staf þe sturne hit bi grypte, Þat watz wounden wyth yrn to þe wandez ende, And al bigrauen with grene in gracios werkes; A lace lapped aboute, þat louked at þe hede, And so after þe halme halched ful ofte, Wyth tryed tasselez þerto tacched innoghe On botounz of þe bryȝt grene brayden ful ryche. Þis haþel heldez hym in and þe halle entres, Driuande to þe heȝe dece, dut he no woþe, Haylsed he neuer one, bot heȝe he ouer loked. Þe fyrst word þat he warp, "Wher is", he sayd, "Þe gouernour of þis gyng? Gladly I wolde Se þat segg in syȝt, and with hymself speke raysoun." To knyȝtez he kest his yȝe, And reled hym vp and doun; He stemmed, and con studie Quo walt þer most renoun.

Ther watz lokyng on lenþe þe lude to beholde, For vch mon had meruayle quat hit mene myȝt Þat a haþel and a horse myȝt such a hwe lach, As growe grene as þe gres and grener hit semed, Þen grene aumayl on golde glowande bryȝter. Al studied þat þer stod, and stalked hym nerre Wyth al þe wonder of þe worlde what he worch schulde. For fele sellyez had þay sen, bot such neuer are; Forþi for fantoum and fayryȝe þe folk þere hit demed. Þerfore to answare watz arȝe mony aþel freke, And al stouned at his steuen and stonstil seten In a swoghe sylence þurȝ þe sale riche; As al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor lotez in hyȝe — I deme hit not al for doute, Bot sum for cortaysye — Bot let hym þat al schulde loute Cast vnto þat wyȝe.

Þenn Arþour bifore þe hiȝ dece þat auenture byholdez, And rekenly hym reuerenced, for rad was he neuer, And sayde, "Wyȝe, welcum iwys to þis place, Þe hede of þis ostel Arthour I hat; Liȝt luflych adoun and lenge, I þe praye, And quat-so þy wylle is we schal wyt after." "Nay, as help me," quoþ þe haþel, "he þat on hyȝe syttes, To wone any quyle in þis won, hit watz not myn ernde; Bot for þe los of þe, lede, is lyft vp so hyȝe, And þy burȝ and þy burnes best ar holden, Stifest vnder stel-gere on stedes to ryde, Þe wyȝtest and þe worþyest of þe worldes kynde, Preue for to play wyth in oþer pure laykez, And here is kydde cortaysye, as I haf herd carp, And þat hatz wayned me hider, iwyis, at þis tyme. Ȝe may be seker bi þis braunch þat I bere here  Þat I passe as in pes, and no plyȝt seche; For had I founded in fere in feȝtyng wyse, I haue a hauberghe at home and a helme boþe, A schelde and a scharp spere, schinande bryȝt, Ande oþer weppenes to welde, I wene wel, als;  Bot for I wolde no were, my wedez ar softer. Bot if þou be so bold as alle burnez tellen, Þou wyl grant me godly þe gomen þat I ask bi ryȝt." Arthour con onsware, And sayd, "Sir cortays knyȝt, If þou craue batayl bare, Here faylez þou not to fyȝt."

"Nay, frayst I no fyȝt, in fayth I þe telle, Hit arn aboute on þis bench bot berdlez chylder.  If I were hasped in armes on a heȝe stede, Here is no mon me to mach, for myȝtez so wayke. Forþy I craue in þis court a Crystemas gomen, For hit is ȝol and Nwe Ȝer, and here ar ȝep mony: If any so hardy in þis hous holdez hymseluen,  Be so bolde in his blod, brayn in hys hede, Þat dar stifly strike a strok for an oþer, I schal gif hym of my gyft þys giserne ryche, Þis ax, þat is heué innogh, to hondele as hym lykes, And I schal bide þe fyrst bur as bare as I sitte.  If any freke be so felle to fonde þat I telle, Lepe lyȝtly me to, and lach þis weppen, I quit-clayme hit for euer, kepe hit as his auen, And I schal stonde hym a strok, stif on þis flet, Ellez þou wyl diȝt me þe dom to dele hym an oþer  barlay, And ȝet gif hym respite, A twelmonyth and a day; Now hyȝe, and let se tite Dar any herinne oȝt say."

If he hem stowned vpon fyrst, stiller were þanne Alle þe heredmen in halle, þe hyȝ and þe loȝe. Þe renk on his rouncé hym ruched in his sadel, And runischly his rede yȝen he reled aboute, Bende his bresed broȝez, blycande grene, Wayued his berde for to wayte quo-so wolde ryse. When non wolde kepe hym with carp he coȝed ful hyȝe, Ande rimed hym ful richly, and ryȝt hym to speke: "What, is þis Arthures hous," quoþ þe haþel þenne, "Þat al þe rous rennes of þurȝ ryalmes so mony? Where is now your sourquydrye and your conquestes, Your gryndellayk and your greme, and your grete wordes? Now is þe reuel and þe renoun of þe Rounde Table Ouerwalt wyth a worde of on wyȝes speche, For al dares for drede withoute dynt schewed!" Wyth þis he laȝes so loude þat þe lorde greued; Þe blod schot for scham into his schyre face and lere; He wex as wroth as wynde, So did alle þat þer were. Þe kyng as kene bi kynde Þen stod þat stif mon nere,

Ande sayde, "Haþel, by heuen, þyn askyng is nys, And as þou foly hatz frayst, fynde þe behoues. I know no gome þat is gast of þy grete wordes;  Gif me now þy geserne, vpon Godez halue, And I schal bayþen þy bone þat þou boden habbes." Lyȝtly lepez he hym to, and laȝt at his honde. Þen feersly þat oþer freke vpon fote lyȝtis. Now hatz Arthure his axe, and þe halme grypez, And sturnely sturez hit aboute, þat stryke wyth hit þoȝt. Þe stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hyȝt, Herre þen ani in þe hous by þe hede and more. Wyth sturne schere þer he stod he stroked his berde, And wyth a countenaunce dryȝe he droȝ doun his cote, No more mate ne dismayd for hys mayn dintez Þen any burne vpon bench hade broȝt hym to drynk of wyne. Gawan, þat sate bi þe quene, To þe kyng he can enclyne: "I beseche now with saȝez sene Þis melly mot be myne.

"Wolde ȝe, worþilych lorde," quoþ Wawan to þe kyng, "Bid me boȝe fro þis benche, and stonde by yow þere, Þat I wythoute vylanye myȝt voyde þis table, And þat my legge lady lyked not ille, I wolde com to your counseyl bifore your cort ryche. For me þink hit not semly, as hit is soþ knawen, Þer such an askyng is heuened so hyȝe in your sale, Þaȝ ȝe ȝourself be talenttyf, to take hit to yourseluen,  Whil mony so bolde yow aboute vpon bench sytten, Þat vnder heuen I hope non haȝerer of wylle, Ne better bodyes on bent þer baret is rered. I am þe wakkest, I wot, and of wyt feblest, And lest lur of my lyf, quo laytes þe soþe —  Bot for as much as ȝe ar myn em I am only to prayse, No bounté bot your blod I in my bodé knowe; And syþen þis note is so nys þat noȝt hit yow falles, And I haue frayned hit at yow fyrst, foldez hit to me; And if I carp not comlyly, let alle þis cort rych  bout blame." Ryche togeder con roun, And syþen þay redden alle same To ryd þe kyng wyth croun, And gif Gawan þe game.

Þen comaunded þe kyng þe knyȝt for to ryse; And he ful radly vpros, and ruchched hym fayre, Kneled doun bifore þe kyng, and cachez þat weppen; And he luflyly hit hym laft, and lyfte vp his honde, And gef hym Goddez blessyng, and gladly hym biddes Þat his hert and his honde schulde hardi be boþe. "Kepe þe cosyn," quoþ þe kyng, "þat þou on kyrf sette, And if þou redeȝ hym ryȝt, redly I trowe Þat þou schal byden þe bur þat he schal bede after." Gawan gotz to þe gome with giserne in honde, And he baldly hym bydez, he bayst neuer þe helder. Þen carppez to Sir Gawan þe knyȝt in þe grene, "Refourme we oure forwardes, er we fyrre passe. Fyrst I eþe þe, haþel, how þat þou hattes Þat þou me telle truly, as I tryst may." "In god fayth," quoþ þe goode knyȝt, "Gawan I hatte, Þat bede þe þis buffet, quat-so bifallez after, And at þis tyme twelmonyth take at þe an oþer Wyth what weppen so þou wylt, and wyth no wyȝ ellez on lyue." Þat oþer onswarez agayn, "Sir Gawan, so mot I þryue As I am ferly fayn Þis dint þat þou schal dryue.

"Bigog," quoþ þe grene knyȝt, "Sir Gawan, me lykes Þat I schal fange at þy fust þat I haf frayst here. And þou hatz redily rehersed, bi resoun ful trwe, Clanly al þe couenaunt þat I þe kynge asked, Saf þat þou schal siker me, segge, bi þi trawþe, Þat þou schal seche me þiself, where-so þou hopes  I may be funde vpon folde, and foch þe such wages As þou deles me to-day bifore þis douþe ryche." "Where schulde I wale þe," quoþ Gauan, "where is þy place? I wot neuer where þou wonyes, bi hym þat me wroȝt, Ne I know not þe, knyȝt, by cort ne þi name. Bot teche me truly þerto, and telle me how þou hattes, And I schal ware alle my wyt to wynne me þeder, And þat I swere þe for soþe, and by my seker traweþ." "Þat is innogh in Nwe Ȝer, hit nedes no more", Quoþ þe gome in þe grene to Gawan þe hende; "Ȝif I þe telle trwly, quen I þe tape haue And þou me smoþely hatz smyten, smartly I þe teche Of my hous and my home and myn owen nome, Þen may þou frayst my fare and forwardez holde; And if I spende no speche, þenne spedez þou þe better, For þou may leng in þy londe and layt no fyrre — bot slokes! Ta now þy grymme tole to þe, And let se how þou cnokez." "Gladly, sir, for soþe", Quoþ Gawan; his ax he strokes.

Þe grene knyȝt vpon grounde grayþely hym dresses, A littel lut with þe hede, þe lere he discouerez, His longe louelych lokkez he layd ouer his croun, Let þe naked nec to þe note schewe. Gauan gripped to his ax, and gederes hit on hyȝt, Þe kay fot on þe folde he before sette, Let him doun lyȝtly lyȝt on þe naked, Þat þe scharp of þe schalk schyndered þe bones, And schrank þurȝ þe schyire grece, and schade hit in twynne, Þat þe bit of þe broun stel bot on þe grounde. Þe fayre hede fro þe halce hit to þe erþe, Þat fele hit foyned wyth her fete, þere hit forth roled; Þe blod brayd fro þe body, þat blykked on þe grene; And nawþer faltered ne fel þe freke neuer þe helder, Bot styþly he start forth vpon styf schonkes, And runyschly he raȝt out, þere as renkkez stoden, Laȝt to his lufly hed, and lyft hit vp sone; And syþen boȝez to his blonk, þe brydel he cachchez, Steppez into stelbawe and strydez alofte, And his hede by þe here in his honde haldez; And as sadly þe segge hym in his sadel sette As non vnhap had hym ayled, þaȝ hedlez he were in stedde. He brayde his bulk aboute, Þat vgly bodi þat bledde; Moni on of hym had doute, Bi þat his resounz were redde.

For þe hede in his honde he haldez vp euen, Toward þe derrest on þe dece he dressez þe face, And hit lyfte vp þe yȝe-lyddez and loked ful brode, And meled þus much with his muthe, as ȝe may now here: "Loke, Gawan, þou be grayþe to go as þou hettez, And layte as lelly til þou me, lude, fynde, As þou hatz hette in þis halle, herande þise knyȝtes; To þe grene chapel þou chose, I charge þe, to fotte Such a dunt as þou hatz dalt — disserued þou habbez To be ȝederly ȝolden on Nw Ȝeres morn. Þe knyȝt of þe grene chapel men knowen me mony; Forþi me for to fynde if þou fraystez, faylez þou neuer.  Þerfore com, oþer recreaunt be calde þe behoues." With a runisch rout þe raynez he tornez, Halled out at þe hal dor, his hed in his hande, Þat þe fyr of þe flynt flaȝe fro fole houes. To quat kyth he becom knwe non þere, Neuer more þen þay wyste from queþen he watz wonnen. What þenne? Þe kyng and Gawen þare At þat grene þay laȝe and grenne, Ȝet breued watz hit ful bare A meruayl among þo menne.

Þaȝ Arþer þe hende kyng at hert hade wonder, He let no semblaunt be sene, bot sayde ful hyȝe To þe comlych quene wyth cortays speche, "Dere dame, to-day demay yow neuer; Wel bycommes such craft vpon Cristmasse, Laykyng of enterludez, to laȝe and to syng, Among þise kynde caroles of knyȝtez and ladyez. Neuer þe lece to my mete I may me wel dres, For I haf sen a selly, I may not forsake." He glent vpon Sir Gawen, and gaynly he sayde, "Now, sir, heng vp þyn ax, þat hatz innogh hewen"; And hit watz don abof þe dece on doser to henge, Þer alle men for meruayl myȝt on hit loke, And bi trwe tytel þerof to telle þe wonder. Þenne þay boȝed to a borde þise burnes togeder, Þe kyng and þe gode knyȝt, and kene men hem serued Of alle dayntyez double, as derrest myȝt falle; Wyth alle maner of mete and mynstralcie boþe, Wyth wele walt þday, til worþed an ende in londe. Now þenk wel, Sir Gawan, For woþe þat þou ne wonde Þis auenture for to frayn Þat þou hatz tan on honde.

Fit II
THIS hanselle hatz Arthur of auenturus on fyrst In ȝonge ȝer, for he ȝerned ȝelpyng to here. Thaȝ hym wordez were wane when þay to sete wenten, Now ar þay stoken of sturne werk, stafful her hond. Gawan watz glad to begynne þose gomnez in halle, Bot þaȝ þe ende be heuy haf ȝe no wonder; For þaȝ men ben mery in mynde quen þay han mayn drynk, A ȝere ȝernes ful ȝerne, and ȝeldez neuer lyke, Þe forme to þe fynisment foldez ful selden. Forþi þis ȝol ouerȝede, and þe ȝere after, And vche sesoun serlepes sued after oþer: After Crystenmasse com þe crabbed lentoun, Þat fraystez flesch wyth þe fysche and fode more symple; Bot þenne þe weder of þe worlde wyth wynter hit þrepez, Colde clengez adoun, cloudez vplyften, Schyre schedez þe rayn in schowrez ful warme, Fallez vpon fayre flat, flowrez þere schewen, Boþe groundez and þe greuez grene ar her wedez, Bryddez busken to bylde, and bremlych syngen For solace of þe softe somer þat sues þerafter bi bonk; And blossumez bolne to blowe Bi rawez rych and ronk, Þen notez noble innoȝe Ar herde in wod so wlonk.

After þe sesoun of somer wyth þe soft wyndez Quen Zeferus syflez hymself on sedez and erbez, Wela wynne is þe wort þat waxes þeroute, When þe donkande dewe dropez of þe leuez, To bide a blysful blusch of þe bryȝt sunne. Bot þen hyȝes heruest, and hardenes hym sone, Warnez hym for þe wynter to wax ful rype; He dryues wyth droȝt þe dust for to ryse, Fro þe face of þe folde to flyȝe ful hyȝe; Wroþe wynde of þe welkyn wrastelez with þe sunne, Þe leuez lancen fro þe lynde and lyȝten on þe grounde, And al grayes þe gres þat grene watz ere; Þenne al rypez and rotez þat ros vpon fyrst, And þus ȝirnez þe ȝere in ȝisterdayez mony, And wynter wyndez aȝayn, as þe worlde askez, no fage, Til Meȝelmas mone Watȝ cumen wyth wynter wage; Þen þenkkez Gawan ful sone Of his anious uyage.

Ȝet quyl Al-hal-day with Arþer he lenges; And he made a fare on þat fest for þe frekez sake, With much reuel and ryche of þe Rounde Table. Knyȝtez ful cortays and comlych ladies Al for luf of þat lede in longynge þay were, Bot neuer þe lece ne þe later þay neuened bot merþe: Mony ioylez for þat ientyle iapez þer maden. For aftter mete with mournyng he melez to his eme, And spekez of his passage, and pertly he sayde, "Now, lege lorde of my lyf, leue I yow ask; Ȝe knowe þe cost of þis cace, kepe I no more To telle yow tenez þerof neuer bot trifel; Bot I am boun to þe bur barely to-morne To sech þe gome of þe grene, as God wyl me wysse." Þenne þe best of þe burȝ boȝed togeder, Aywan, and Errik, and oþer ful mony, Sir Doddinaual de Sauage, þe duk of Clarence, Launcelot, and Lyonel, and Lucan þe gode, Sir Boos, and Sir Byduer, big men boþe, And mony oþer menskful, with Mador de la Port. Alle þis compayny of court com þe kyng nerre For to counseyl þe knyȝt, with care at her hert. Þere watz much derue doel driuen in þe sale Þat so worþé as Wawan schulde wende on þat ernde, To dryȝe a delful dynt, and dele no more wyth bronde. Þe knyȝt mad ay god chere, And sayde, "Quat schuld I wonde? Of destinés derf and dere What may mon do bot fonde?"

He dowellez þer al þat day, and dressez on þe morn, Askez erly hys armez, and alle were þay broȝt. Fyrst a tulé tapit tyȝt ouer þe flet, And miche watz þe gyld gere þat glent þeralofte; Þe stif mon steppez þeron, and þe stel hondelez, Dubbed in a dublet of a dere tars, And syþen a crafty capados, closed aloft, Þat wyth a bryȝt blaunner was bounden withinne. Þenne set þay þe sabatounz vpon þe segge fotez, His legez lapped in stel with luflych greuez, With polaynez piched þerto, policed ful clene, Aboute his knez knaged wyth knotez of golde; Queme quyssewes þen, þat coyntlych closed His thik þrawen þyȝez, with þwonges to tachched; And syþen þe brawden bryné of bryȝt stel ryngez Vmbeweued þat wyȝ vpon wlonk stuffe, And wel bornyst brace vpon his boþe armes, With gode cowters and gay, and glouez of plate, And alle þe godlych gere þat hym gayn schulde þat tyde; Wyth ryche cote-armure, His gold sporez spend with pryde, Gurde wyth a bront ful sure With silk sayn vmbe his syde.

When he watz hasped in armes, his harnays watz ryche: Þe lest lachet ouer loupe lemed of golde. So harnayst as he watz he herknez his masse, Offred and honoured at þe heȝe auter. Syþen he comez to þe kyng and to his cort-ferez, Lachez lufly his leue at lordez and ladyez; And þay hym kyst and conueyed, bikende hym to Kryst. Bi þat watz Gryngolet grayth, and gurde with a sadel Þat glemed ful gayly with mony golde frenges, Ayquere naylet ful nwe, for þat note ryched; Þe brydel barred aboute, with bryȝt golde bounden; Þe apparayl of þe payttrure and of þe proude skyrtez, Þe cropore and þe couertor, acorded wyth þe arsounez; And al watz rayled on red ryche golde naylez, Þat al glytered and glent as glem of þe sunne. Þenne hentes he þe helme, and hastily hit kysses, Þat watz stapled stifly, and stoffed wythinne. Hit watz hyȝe on his hede, hasped bihynde, Wyth a lyȝtly vrysoun ouer þe auentayle, Enbrawden and bounden wyth þe best gemmez On brode sylkyn borde, and bryddez on semez, As papiayez paynted peruyng bitwene, Tortors and trulofez entayled so þyk As mony burde þeraboute had ben seuen wynter in toune. Þe cercle watz more o prys Þat vmbeclypped hys croun, Of diamauntez a deuys Þat boþe were bryȝt and broun.

THEN þay schewed hym þe schelde, þat was of schyr goulez Wyth þe pentangel depaynt of pure golde hwez. He braydez hit by þe bauderyk, aboute þe hals kestes, Þat bisemed þe segge semlyly fayre. And quy þe pentangel apendez to þat prynce noble I am in tent yow to telle, þof tary hyt me schulde: Hit is a syngne þat Salamon set sumquyle In bytoknyng of trawþe, bi tytle þat hit habbez, For hit is a figure þat haldez fyue poyntez, And vche lyne vmbelappez and loukez in oþer, And ayquere hit is endelez; and Englych hit callen Oueral, as I here, þe endeles knot. Forþy hit acordez to þis knyȝt and to his cler armez, For ay faythful in fyue and sere fyue syþez Gawan watz for gode knawen, and as golde pured, Voyded of vche vylany, wyth vertuez ennourned in mote; Forþy þe pentangel nwe He ber in schelde and cote, As tulk of tale most trwe And gentylest knyȝt of lote.

Fyrst he watz funden fautlez in his fyue wyttez, And efte fayled neuer þe freke in his fyue fyngres, And alle his afyaunce vpon folde watz in þe fyue woundez Þat Cryst kaȝt on þe croys, as þe crede tellez; And quere-so-euer þys mon in melly watz stad, His þro þoȝt watz in þat, þurȝ alle oþer þyngez, Þat alle his forsnes he feng at þe fyue joyez Þat þe hende heuen-quene had of hir chylde; At þis cause þe knyȝt comlyche hade In þe inore half of his schelde hir ymage depaynted, Þat quen he blusched þerto his belde neuer payred. Þe fyft fyue þat I finde þat þe frek vsed Watz fraunchyse and felaȝschyp forbe al þyng, His clannes and his cortaysye croked were neuer, And pité, þat passez alle poyntez, þyse pure fyue Were harder happed on þat haþel þen on any oþer. Now alle þese fyue syþez, for soþe, were fetled on þis knyȝt, And vchone halched in oþer, þat non ende hade, And fyched vpon fyue poyntez, þat fayld neuer, Ne samned neuer in no syde, ne sundred nouþer, Withouten ende at any noke I oquere fynde, Whereeuer þe gomen bygan, or glod to an ende. Þerfore on his schene schelde schapen watz þe knot Ryally wyth red golde vpon rede gowlez, Þat is þe pure pentaungel wyth þe peple called with lore. Now grayþed is Gawan gay, And laȝt his launce ryȝt þore, And gef hem alle goud day, He wende for euermore.

He sperred þe sted with þe spurez and sprong on his way, So stif þat þe ston-fyr stroke out þerafter. Al þat seȝ þat semly syked in hert, And sayde soþly al same segges til oþer, Carande for þat comly: "Bi Kryst, hit is scaþe Þat þou, leude, schal be lost, þat art of lyf noble! To fynde hys fere vpon folde, in fayth, is not eþe. Warloker to haf wroȝt had more wyt bene, And haf dyȝt ȝonder dere a duk to haue worþed; A lowande leder of ledez in londe hym wel semez, And so had better haf ben þen britned to noȝt,  Hadet wyth an aluisch mon, for angardez pryde. Who knew euer any kyng such counsel to take As knyȝtez in cauelaciounz on Crystmasse gomnez!" Wel much watz þe warme water þat waltered of yȝen, When þat semly syre soȝt fro þo wonez þad daye. He made non abode, Bot wyȝtly went hys way; Mony wylsum way he rode, Þe bok as I herde say.

Now ridez þis renk þurȝ þe ryalme of Logres, Sir Gauan, on Godez halue, þaȝ hym no gomen þoȝt. Oft leudlez alone he lengez on nyȝtez Þer he fonde noȝt hym byfore þe fare þat he lyked. Hade he no fere bot his fole bi frythez and dounez, Ne no gome bot God bi gate wyth to karp, Til þat he neȝed ful neghe into þe Norþe Walez. Alle þe iles of Anglesay on lyft half he haldez, And farez ouer þe fordez by þe forlondez, Ouer at þe Holy Hede, til he hade eft bonk In þe wyldrenesse of Wyrale; wonde þer bot lyte Þat auþer God oþer gome wyth goud hert louied. And ay he frayned, as he ferde, at frekez þat he met, If þay hade herde any karp of a knyȝt grene, In any grounde þeraboute, of þe grene chapel; And al nykked hym wyth nay, þat neuer in her lyue Þay seȝe neuer no segge þat watz of suche hwez of grene. Þe knyȝt tok gates straunge In mony a bonk vnbene, His cher ful oft con chaunge Þat chapel er he myȝt sene.

Mony klyf he ouerclambe in contrayez straunge, Fer floten fro his frendez fremedly he rydez. At vche warþe oþer water þer þe wyȝe passed He fonde a foo hym byfore, bot ferly hit were, And þat so foule and so felle þat feȝt hym byhode. So mony meruayl bi mount þer þe mon fyndez, Hit were to tore for to telle of þe tenþe dole. Sumwhyle wyth wormez he werrez, and with wolues als, Sumwhyle wyth wodwos, þat woned in þe knarrez, Boþe wyth bullez and berez, and borez oþerquyle, And etaynez, þat hym anelede of þe heȝe felle; Nade he ben duȝty and dryȝe, and Dryȝtyn had serued, Douteles he hade ben ded and dreped ful ofte. For werre wrathed hym not so much þat wynter nas wors, When þe colde cler water fro þe cloudez schadde, And fres er hit falle myȝt to þe fale erþe; Ner slayn wyth þe slete he sleped in his yrnes Mo nyȝtez þen innoghe in naked rokkez, Þer as claterande fro þe crest þe colde borne rennez, And henged heȝe ouer his hede in hard iisse-ikkles. Þus in peryl and payne and plytes ful harde Bi contray cayrez þis knyȝt, tyl Krystmasse euen, al one; Þe knyȝt wel þat tyde To Mary made his mone, Þat ho hym red to ryde And wysse hym to sum wone.

Bi a mounte on þe morne meryly he rydes Into a forest ful dep, þat ferly watz wylde, Hiȝe hillez on vche a halue, and holtwodez vnder Of hore okez ful hoge a hundreth togeder; Þe hasel and þe haȝþorne were harled al samen, With roȝe raged mosse rayled aywhere, With mony bryddez vnblyþe vpon bare twyges, Þat pitosly þer piped for pyne of þe colde. Þe gome vpon Gryngolet glydez hem vnder, Þurȝ mony misy and myre, mon al hym one, Carande for his costes, lest he ne keuer schulde To se þe seruyse of þat syre, þat on þat self nyȝt Of a burde watz borne oure baret to quelle; And þerfore sykyng he sayde, "I beseche þe, lorde, And Mary, þat is myldest moder so dere, Of sum herber þer heȝly I myȝt here masse, Ande þy matynez to-morne, mekely I ask, And þerto prestly I pray my pater and aue and crede." He rode in his prayere, And cryed for his mysdede, He sayned hym in syþes sere, And sayde "Cros Kryst me spede!"

NADE he sayned hymself, segge, bot þrye, Er he watz war in þe wod of a won in a mote, Abof a launde, on a lawe, loken vnder boȝez Of mony borelych bole aboute bi þe diches: A castel þe comlokest þat euer knyȝt aȝte, Pyched on a prayere, a park al aboute, With a pyked palays pyned ful þik, Þat vmbeteȝe mony tre mo þen two myle. Þat holde on þat on syde þe haþel auysed, As hit schemered and schon þurȝ þe schyre okez; Þenne hatz he hendly of his helme, and heȝly he þonkez Jesus and sayn Gilyan, þat gentyle ar boþe, Þat cortaysly had hym kydde, and his cry herkened. "Now bone hostel," coþe þe burne, "I beseche yow ȝette!" Þenne gerdez he to Gryngolet with þe gilt helez, And he ful chauncely hatz chosen to þe chef gate, Þat broȝt bremly þe burne to þe bryge ende in haste. Þe bryge watz breme vpbrayde, Þe ȝatez wer stoken faste, Þe wallez were wel arayed, Hit dut no wyndez blaste.

Þe burne bode on blonk, þat on bonk houed Of þe depe double dich þat drof to þe place; Þe walle wod in þe water wonderly depe, Ande eft a ful huge heȝt hit haled vpon lofte Of harde hewen ston vp to þe tablez, Enbaned vnder þe abataylment in þe best lawe; And syþen garytez ful gaye gered bitwene, Wyth mony luflych loupe þat louked ful clene: A better barbican þat burne blusched vpon neuer. And innermore he behelde þat halle ful hyȝe, Towres telded bytwene, trochet ful þik, Fayre fylyolez þat fyȝed, and ferlyly long, With coruon coprounes craftyly sleȝe. Chalkwhyt chymnees þer ches he innoȝe Vpon bastel rouez, þat blenked ful quyte; So mony pynakle payntet watz poudred ayquere, Among þe castel carnelez clambred so þik, Þat pared out of papure purely hit semed. Þe fre freke on þe fole hit fayr innoghe þoȝt, If he myȝt keuer to com þe cloyster wythinne, To herber in þat hostel whyl halyday lested, auinant. He calde, and sone þer com A porter pure plesaunt, On þe wal his ernd he nome, And haylsed þe knyȝt erraunt.

"Gode sir," quoþ Gawan, "woldez þou go myn ernde To þe heȝ lorde of þis hous, herber to craue?" "Ȝe, Peter," quoþ þe porter, "and purely I trowee Þat ȝe be, wyȝe, welcum to won quyle yow lykez." Þen ȝede þe wyȝe ȝerne and com aȝayn swyþe, And folke frely hym wyth, to fonge þe knyȝt. Þay let doun þe grete draȝt and derely out ȝeden, And kneled doun on her knes vpon þe colde erþe To welcum þis ilk wyȝ as worþy hom þoȝt; Þay ȝolden hym þe brode ȝate, ȝarked vp wyde, And he hem raysed rekenly, and rod ouer þe brygge. Sere seggez hym sesed by sadel, quel he lyȝt, And syþen stabeled his stede stif men innoȝe. Knyȝtez and swyerez comen doun þenne For to bryng þis buurne wyth blys into halle; Quen he hef vp his helme, þer hiȝed innoghe For to hent hit at his honde, þe hende to seruen; His bronde and his blasoun boþe þay token. Þen haylsed he ful hendly þo haþelez vchone, And mony proud mon þer presed þat prynce to honour. Alle hasped in his heȝ wede to halle þay hym wonnen, Þer fayre fyre vpon flet fersly brenned. Þenne þe lorde of þe lede loutez fro his chambre For to mete wyth menske þe mon on þe flor; He sayde, "Ȝe ar welcum to welde as yow lykez Þat here is; al is yowre awen, to haue at yowre wylle and welde." "Graunt mercy," quoþ Gawayn, "Þer Kryst hit yow forȝelde." As frekez þat semed fayn Ayþer oþer in armez con felde.

Gawayn glyȝt on þe gome þat godly hym gret, And þuȝt hit a bolde burne þat þe burȝ aȝte, A hoge haþel for þe nonez, and of hyghe eldee; Brode, bryȝt, watz his berde, and al beuer-hwed, Sturne, stif on þe stryþþe on stalworth schonkez, Felle face as þe fyre, and fre of hys speche; And wel hym semed, for soþe, as þe segge þuȝt, To lede a lortschyp in lee of leudez ful gode. Þe lorde hym charred to a chambre, and chefly cumaundez To delyuer hym a leude, hym loȝly to serue; And þere were boun at his bode burnez innoȝe, Þat broȝt hym to a bryȝt boure, þer beddyng watz noble, Of cortynes of clene sylk wyth cler golde hemmez, And couertorez ful curious with comlych panez Of bryȝt blaunner aboue, enbrawded bisydez, Rudelez rennande on ropez, red golde ryngez, Tapitez tyȝt to þe woȝe of tuly and tars, And vnder fete, on þe flet, of folȝande sute. Þer he watz dispoyled, wyth spechez of myerþe, Þe burn of his bruny and of his bryȝt wedez. Ryche robes ful rad renkkez hym broȝten, For to charge, and to chaunge, and chose of þe best. Sone as he on hent, and happed þerinne, Þat sete on hym semly wyth saylande skyrtez, Þe ver by his uisage verayly hit semed Welneȝ to vche haþel, alle on hwes Lowande and lufly alle his lymmez vnder, Þat a comloker knyȝt neuer Kryst made hem þoȝt. Wheþen in worlde he were, Hit semed as he moȝt Be prynce withouten pere In felde þer felle men foȝt.

A cheyer byfore þe chemné, þer charcole brenned, Watz grayþed for Sir Gawan grayþely with cloþez, Whyssynes vpon queldepoyntes þat koynt wer boþe; And þenne a meré mantyle watz on þat mon cast Of a broun bleeaunt, enbrauded ful ryche And fayre furred wythinne with fellez of þe best, Alle of ermyn in erde, his hode of þe same; And he sete in þat settel semlych ryche, And achaufed hym chefly, and þenne his cher mended. Sone watz telded vp a tabil on trestez ful fayre, Clad wyth a clene cloþe þat cler quyt schewed, Sanap, and salure, and syluerin sponez. Þe wyȝe wesche at his wylle, and went to his mete. Seggez hym serued semly innoȝe Wyth sere sewes and sete, sesounde of þe best. Double-felde, as hit fallez, and fele kyn fischez, Summe baken in bred, summe brad on þe gledez, Summe soþen, summe in sewe sauered with spyces, And ay sawes so sleȝe þat þe segge lyked. Þe freke calde hit a fest ful frely and ofte Ful hendely, quen alle þe haþeles rehayted hym at onez, "As hende, Þis penaunce now ȝe take, And eft hit schal amende." Þat mon much merþe con make, For wyn in his hed þat wende.

Þenne watz spyed and spured vpon spare wyse Bi preué poyntez of þat prynce, put to hymseluen, Þat he beknew cortaysly of þe court þat he were Þat aþel Arthure þe hende haldez hym one, Þat is þe ryche ryal kyng of þe Rounde Table, And hit watz Wawen hymself þat in þat won syttez, Comen to þat Krystmasse, as case hym þen lymped. When þe lorde hade lerned þat he þe leude hade, Loude laȝed he þerat, so lef hit hym þoȝt, And alle þe men in þat mote maden much joye To apere in his presense prestly þat tyme, Þat alle prys and prowes and pured þewes Apendes to hys persoun, and praysed is euer; Byfore alle men vpon molde his mensk is þe most. Vch segge ful softly sayde to his fere: "Now schal we semlych se sleȝtez of þewez And þe teccheles termes of talkyng noble, Wich spede is in speche vnspurd may we lerne, Syn we haf fonged þat fyne fader of nurture. God hatz geuen vus his grace godly for soþe, Þat such a gest as Gawan grauntez vus to haue, When burnez blyþe of his burþe schal sitte and synge. In menyng of manerez mere Þis burne now schal vus bryng,  I hope þat may hym here Schal lerne of luf-talkyng."

Bi þat þe diner watz done and þe dere vp Hit watz neȝ at þe niyȝt neȝed þe tyme. Chaplaynez to þe chapeles chosen þe gate, Rungen ful rychely, ryȝt as þay schulden, To þe hersum euensong of þe hyȝe tyde. Þe lorde loutes þerto, and þe lady als, Into a cumly closet coyntly ho entrez. Gawan glydez ful gay and gos þeder sone; Þe lorde laches hym by þe lappe and ledez hym to sytte, And couþly hym knowez and callez hym his nome, And sayde he watz þe welcomest wyȝe of þe worlde; And he hym þonkked þroly, and ayþer halched oþer, And seten soberly samen þe seruise quyle. Þenne lyst þe lady to loke on þe knyȝt, Þenne com ho of hir closet with mony cler burdez. Ho watz þe fayrest in felle, of flesche and of lyre, And of compas and colour and costes, of alle oþer, And wener þen Wenore, as þe wyȝe þoȝt. Ho ches þurȝ þe chaunsel to cheryche þat hende. An oþer lady hir lad bi þe lyft honde, Þat watz alder þen ho, an auncian hit semed, And heȝly honowred with haþelez aboute. Bot vnlyke on to loke þo ladyes were, For if þe ȝonge watz ȝep, ȝolȝe watz þat oþer; Riche red on þat on rayled ayquere, Rugh ronkled chekez þat oþer on rolled; Kerchofes of þat on, wyth mony cler perlez, Hir brest and hir bryȝt þrote bare displayed, Schon schyrer þen snawe þat schedez on hillez; Þat oþer wyth a gorger watz gered ouer þe swyre, Chymbled ouer hir blake chyn with chalkquyte vayles, Hir frount folden in sylk, enfoubled ayquere, Toreted and treleted with tryflez aboute, Þat noȝt watz bare of þat burde bot þe blake broȝes, Þe tweyne yȝen and þe nase, þe naked lyppez, And þose were soure to se and sellyly blered; A mensk lady on molde mon may hir calle, for Gode! Hir body watz schort and þik, Hir buttokez balȝ and brode, More lykkerwys on to lyk Watz þat scho hade on lode.

When Gawayn glyȝt on þat gay, þat graciously loked, Wyth leue laȝt of þe lorde he lent hem aȝaynes; Þe alder he haylses, heldande ful lowe, Þe loueloker he lappez a lyttel in armez, He kysses hir comlyly, and knyȝtly he melez. Þay kallen hym of aquoyntaunce, and he hit quyk askez To be her seruaunt sothly, if hemself lyked. Þay tan hym bytwene hem, wyth talkyng hym leden To chambre, to chemné, and chefly þay asken Spycez, þat vnsparely men speded hom to bryng, And þe wynnelych wyne þerwith vche tyme. Þe lorde luflych aloft lepez ful ofte, Mynned merthe to be made vpon mony syþez, Hent heȝly of his hode, and on a spere henged, And wayned hom to wynne þe worchip þerof, Þat most myrþe myȝt meue þat Crystenmas whyle — "And I schal fonde, bi my fayth, to fylter wyth þe best Er me wont þe wede, with help of my frendez." Þus wyth laȝande lotez þe lorde hit tayt makez, For to glade Sir Gawayn with gomnez in halle þat nyȝt, Til þat hit watz tyme Þe lord comaundet lyȝt; Sir Gawen his leue con nyme And to his bed hym diȝt.

On þe morne, as vch mon mynez þat tyme Þat Dryȝtyn for oure destyné to deȝe watz borne, Wele waxez in vche a won in worlde for his sake; So did hit þere on þat day þurȝ dayntés mony: Boþe at mes and at mele messes ful quaynt Derf men vpon dece drest of þe best. Þe olde auncian wyf heȝest ho syttez, Þe lorde lufly her by lent, as I trowe; Gawan and þe gay burde togeder þay seten, Euen inmyddez, as þe messe metely come, And syþen þurȝ al þe sale as hem best semed. Bi vche grome at his degré grayþely watz serued Þer watz mete, þer watz myrþe, þer watz much ioye, Þat for to telle þerof hit me tene were, And to poynte hit ȝet I pyned me parauenture. Bot ȝet I wot þat Wawen and þe wale burde Such comfort of her compaynye caȝten togeder Þurȝ her dere dalyaunce of her derne wordez, Wyth clene cortays carp closed fro fylþe, Þat hor play watz passande vche prynce gomen, in vayres. Trumpez and nakerys, Much pypyng þer repayres; Vche mon tented hys, And þay two tented þayres.

Much dut watz þer dryuen þat day and þat oþer, And þe þryd as þro þronge in þerafter; Þe ioye of sayn Jonez day watz gentyle to here, And watz þe last of þe layk, leudez þer þoȝten. Þer wer gestes to go vpon þe gray morne, Forþy wonderly þay woke, and þe wyn dronken, Daunsed ful dreȝly wyth dere carolez. At þe last, when hit watz late, þay lachen her leue, Vchon to wende on his way þat watz wyȝe stronge. Gawan gef hym god day, þe godmon hym lachchez, Ledes hym to his awen chambre, þe chymné bysyde, And þere he draȝez hym on dryȝe, and derely hym þonkkez Of þe wynne worschip þat he hym wayued hade, As to honour his hous on þat hyȝe tyde, And enbelyse his burȝ with his bele chere: "Iwysse sir, quyl I leue, me worþez þe better Þat Gawayn hatz ben my gest at Goddez awen fest." "Grant merci, sir," quoþ Gawayn, "in god fayth hit is yowrez, Al þe honour is your awen — þe heȝe kyng yow ȝelde! And I am wyȝe at your wylle to worch youre hest, As I am halden þerto, in hyȝe and in loȝe, bi riȝt." Þe lorde fast can hym payne To holde lenger þe knyȝt; To hym answarez Gawayn Bi non way þat he myȝt.

Then frayned þe freke ful fayre at himseluen Quat derue dede had hym dryuen at þat dere tyme So kenly fro þe kyngez kourt to kayre al his one, Er þe halidayez holly were halet out of toun. "For soþe, sir," quoþ þe segge, "ȝe sayn bot þe trawþe, A heȝe ernde and a hasty me hade fro þo wonez, For I am sumned myselfe to sech to a place, I ne wot in worlde whederwarde to wende hit to fynde. I nolde bot if I hit negh myȝt on Nw ȝeres morne For alle þe londe inwyth Logres, so me oure lorde help!  Forþy, sir, þis enquest I require yow here, Þat ȝe me telle with trawþe if euer ȝe tale herde Of þe grene chapel, quere hit on grounde stondez, And of þe knyȝt þat hit kepes, of colour of grene. Þer watz stabled bi statut a steuen vus bytwene  To mete þat mon at þat mere, ȝif I myȝt last; And of þat ilk Nw ȝere bot neked now wontez, And I wolde loke on þat lede, if God me let wolde, Gladloker, bi Goddez sun, þen any god welde! Forþi, iwysse, bi ȝowre wylle, wende me bihoues,  Naf I now to busy bot bare þre dayez, And me als fayn to falle feye as fayly of myyn ernde." Þenne laȝande quoþ þe lorde, "Now leng þe byhoues, For I schal teche yow to þat terme bi þe tymez ende, Þe grene chapayle vpon grounde greue yow no more; Bot ȝe schal be in yowre bed, burne, at þyn ese, Quyle forth dayez, and ferk on þe fyrst of þe ȝere, And cum to þat merk at mydmorn, to make quat yow likez in spenne. Dowellez whyle New ȝeres daye,  And rys, and raykez þenne, Mon schal yow sette in waye, Hit is not two myle henne."

Þenne watz Gawan ful glad, and gomenly he laȝed: "Now I þonk yow þryuandely þurȝ alle oþer þynge, Now acheued is my chaunce, I schal at your wylle Dowelle, and ellez do quat ȝe demen." Þenne sesed hym þe syre and set hym bysyde, Let þe ladiez be fette to lyke hem þe better. Þer watz seme solace by hemself stille; Þe lorde let for luf lotez so myry, As wyȝ þat wolde of his wyte, ne wyst quat he myȝt. Þenne he carped to þe knyȝt, criande loude, "Ȝe han demed to do þe dede þat I bidde; Wyl ȝe halde þis hes here at þys onez?" "Ȝe, sir, for soþe," sayd þe segge trwe, "Whyl I byde in yowre borȝe, be bayn to ȝowre hest." "For ȝe haf trauayled," quoþ þe tulk, "towen fro ferre, And syþen waked me wyth, ȝe arn not wel waryst Nauþer of sostnaunce ne of slepe, soþly I knowe; Ȝe schal lenge in your lofte, and lyȝe in your ese To-morn quyle þe messequyle, and to mete wende When ȝe wyl, wyth my wyf, þat wyth yow schal sitte And comfort yow with compayny, til I to cort torne; Ȝe lende,  And I schal erly ryse, On huntyng wyl I wende." Gauayn grantez alle þyse, Hym heldande, as þe hende.

"Ȝet firre," quoþ þe freke, "a forwarde we make: Quat-so-euer I wynne in þe wod hit worþez to yourez, And quat chek so ȝe acheue chaunge me þerforne. Swete, swap we so, sware with trawþe, Queþer, leude, so lymp, lere oþer better." "Bi God," quoþ Gawayn þe gode, "I grant þertylle, And þat yow lyst for to layke, lef hit me þynkes." "Who bryngez vus þis beuerage, þis bargayn is maked": So sayde þe lorde of þat lede; þay laȝed vchone, Þay dronken and daylyeden and dalten vntyȝtel, Þise lordez and ladyez, quyle þat hem lyked; And syþen with Frenkysch fare and fele fayre lotez Þay stoden and stemed and stylly speken, Kysten ful comlyly and kaȝten her leue. With mony leude ful lyȝt and lemande torches Vche burne to his bed watz broȝt at þe laste, ful softe. To bed ȝet er þay ȝede, Recorded couenauntez ofte; Þe olde lorde of þat leude Cowþe wel halde layk alofte.

Fit III
Ful erly bifore þe day þe folk vprysen, Gestes þat go wolde hor gromez þay calden, And þay busken vp bilyue blonkkez to sadel, Tyffen her takles, trussen her males, Richen hem þe rychest, to ryde alle arayde, Lepen vp lyȝtly, lachen her brydeles, Vche wyȝe on his way þer hym wel lyked. Þe leue lorde of þe londe watz not þe last Arayed for þe rydyng, with renkkez ful mony; Ete a sop hastyly, when he hade herde masse, With bugle to bent-felde he buskez bylyue. By þat any daylyȝt lemed vpon erþe He with his haþeles on hyȝe horsses weren. Þenne þise cacheres þat couþe cowpled hor houndez, Vnclosed þe kenel dore and calde hem þeroute, Blwe bygly in buglez þre bare mote; Braches bayed þerfore and breme noyse maked; And þay chastysed and charred on chasyng þat went, A hundreth of hunteres, as I haf herde telle, of þe best. To trystors vewters ȝod, Couples huntes of kest; Þer ros for blastez gode Gret rurd in þat forest.

At þe fyrst quethe of þe quest quaked þe wylde; Der drof in þe dale, doted for drede, Hiȝed to þe hyȝe, bot heterly þay were Restayed with þe stablye, þat stoutly ascryed. Þay let þe herttez haf þe gate, with þe hyȝe hedes, Þe breme bukkez also with hor brode paumez; For þe fre lorde hade defende in fermysoun tyme Þat þer schulde no mon meue to þe male dere. Þe hindez were halden in with hay! and war! Þe does dryuen with gret dyn to þe depe sladez; Þer myȝt mon se, as þay slypte, slentyng of arwes — At vche wende vnder wande wapped a flone — Þat bigly bote on þe broun with ful brode hedez. What! þay brayen, and bleden, bi bonkkez þay deȝen, And ay rachches in a res radly hem folȝes, Hunterez wyth hyȝe horne hasted hem after Wyth such a crakkande kry as klyffes haden brusten. What wylde so atwaped wyȝes þat schotten Watz al toraced and rent at þe resayt, Bi þay were tened at þe hyȝe and taysed to þe wattrez; Þe ledez were so lerned at þe loȝe trysteres, And þe grehoundez so grete, þat geten hem bylyue And hem tofylched, as fast as frekez myȝt loke, þer-ryȝt. Þe lorde for blys abloy Ful oft con launce and lyȝt, And drof þat day wyth joy Thus to þe derk nyȝt.

Þus laykez þis lorde by lynde-wodez euez, And Gawayn þe god mon in gay bed lygez, Lurkkez quyl þe daylyȝt lemed on þe wowes, Vnder couertour ful clere, cortyned aboute; And as in slomeryng he slode, sleȝly he herde A littel dyn at his dor, and dernly vpon; And he heuez vp his hed out of þe cloþes, A corner of þe cortyn he caȝt vp a lyttel, And waytez warly þiderwarde quat hit be myȝt. Hit watz þe ladi, loflyest to beholde, Þat droȝ þe dor after hir ful dernly and stylle, And boȝed towarde þe bed; and þe burne schamed, And layde hym doun lystyly, and let as he slepte; And ho stepped stilly and stel to his bedde, Kest vp þe cortyn and creped withinne, And set hir ful softly on þe bed-syde, And lenged þere selly longe to loke quen he wakened. Þe lede lay lurked a ful longe quyle, Compast in his concience to quat þat cace myȝt Meue oþer amount — to meruayle hym þoȝt, Bot ȝet he sayde in hymself, "More semly hit were To aspye wyth my spelle in space quat ho wolde." Þen he wakenede, and wroth, and to hir warde torned, And vnlouked his yȝe-lyddez, and let as hym wondered, And sayned hym, as bi his saȝe þe sauer to worthe, with hande. Wyth chynne and cheke ful swete, Boþe quit and red in blande, Ful lufly con ho lete Wyth lyppez smal laȝande.

"God moroun, Sir Gawayn," sayde þat gay lady, "Ȝe ar a sleper vnslyȝe, þat mon may slyde hider; Now ar ȝe tan as-tyt! Bot true vus may schape, I schal bynde yow in your bedde, þat be ȝe trayst": Al laȝande þe lady lanced þo bourdez. "Goud moroun, gay," quoþ Gawayn þe blyþe, "Me schal worþe at your wille, and þat me wel lykez, For I ȝelde me ȝederly, and ȝeȝe after grace, And þat is þe best, be my dome, for me byhouez nede": And þus he bourded aȝayn with mony a blyþe laȝter. "Bot wolde ȝe, lady louely, þen leue me grante, And deprece your prysoun, and pray hym to ryse, I wolde boȝe of þis bed, and busk me better; I schulde keuer þe more comfort to karp yow wyth." "Nay for soþe, beau sir," sayd þat swete, "Ȝe schal not rise of your bedde, I rych yow better, I schal happe yow here þat oþer half als, And syþen karp wyth my knyȝt þat I kaȝt haue; For I wene wel, iwysse, Sir Wowen ȝe are, Þat alle þe worlde worchipez quere-so ȝe ride; Your honour, your hendelayk is hendely praysed With lordez, wyth ladyes, with alle þat lyf bere. And now ȝe ar here, iwysse, and we bot oure one;  My lorde and his ledez ar on lenþe faren, Oþer burnez in her bedde, and my burdez als, Þe dor drawen and dit with a derf haspe; And syþen I haue in þis hous hym þat al lykez, I schal ware my whyle wel, quyl hit lastez,  with tale. Ȝe ar welcum to my cors, Yowre awen won to wale, Me behouez of fyne force Your seruaunt be, and schale."

"In god fayth," quoþ Gawayn, "gayn hit me þynkkez, Þaȝ I be not now he þat ȝe of speken; To reche to such reuerence as ȝe reherce here I am wyȝe vnworþy, I wot wel myseluen. Bi God, I were glad, and yow god þoȝt,  At saȝe oþer at seruyce þat I sette myȝt To þe plesaunce of your prys — hit were a pure ioye." "In god fayth, Sir Gawayn," quoþ þe gay lady, "Þe prys and þe prowes þat plesez al oþer, If I hit lakked oþer set at lyȝt, hit were littel daynté; Bot hit ar ladyes innoȝe þat leuer wer nowþe Haf þe, hende, in hor holde, as I þe habbe here, To daly with derely your daynté wordez, Keuer hem comfort and colen her carez, Þen much of þe garysoun oþer golde þat þay hauen.  Bot I louue þat ilk lorde þat þe lyfte haldez, I haf hit holly in my honde þat al desyres, þurȝe grace." Scho made hym so gret chere, Þat watz so fayr of face, Þe knyȝt with speches skere Answared to vche a cace.

"Madame," quoþ þe myry mon, "Mary yow ȝelde, For I haf founden, in god fayth, yowre fraunchis nobele, And oþer ful much of oþer folk fongen bi hor dedez,  Bot þe daynté þat þay delen, for my disert nys euen, Hit is þe worchyp of yourself, þat noȝt bot wel connez." "Bi Mary," quoþ þe menskful, "me þynk hit an oþer; For were I worth al þe wone of wymmen alyue, And al þe wele of þe worlde were in my honde, And I schulde chepen and chose to cheue me a lorde, For þe costes þat I haf knowen vpon þe, knyȝt, here, Of bewté and debonerté and blyþe semblaunt, And þat I haf er herkkened and halde hit here trwee, Þer schulde no freke vpon folde bifore yow be chosen." "Iwysse, worþy," quoþ þe wyȝe, "ȝe haf waled wel better, Bot I am proude of þe prys þat ȝe put on me, And, soberly your seruaunt, my souerayn I holde yow, And yowre knyȝt I becom, and Kryst yow forȝelde." Þus þay meled of muchquat til mydmorn paste, And ay þe lady let lyk as hym loued mych; Þe freke ferde with defence, and feted ful fayre — "Þaȝ I were burde bryȝtest", þe burde in mynde hade. Þe lasse luf in his lode for lur þat he soȝt boute hone, Þe dunte þat schulde hym deue, And nedez hit most be done. Þe lady þenn spek of leue, He granted hir ful sone.

Þenne ho gef hym god day, and wyth a glent laȝed, And as ho stod, ho stonyed hym wyth ful stor wordez: "Now he þat spedez vche spech þis disport ȝelde yow! Bot þat ȝe be Gawan, hit gotz in mynde." "Querfore?" quoþ þe freke, and freschly he askez, Ferde lest he hade fayled in fourme of his castes; Bot þe burde hym blessed, and "Bi þis skyl" sayde: "So god as Gawayn gaynly is halden, And cortaysye is closed so clene in hymseluen, Couth not lyȝtly haf lenged so long wyth a lady, Bot he had craued a cosse, bi his courtaysye, Bi sum towch of summe tryfle at sum talez ende." Þen quoþ Wowen: "Iwysse, worþe as yow lykez; I schal kysse at your comaundement, as a knyȝt fallez, And fire, lest he displese yow, so plede hit no more." Ho comes nerre with þat, and cachez hym in armez, Loutez luflych adoun and þe leude kyssez. Þay comly bykennen to Kryst ayþer oþer; Ho dos hir forth at þe dore withouten dyn more; And he ryches hym to ryse and rapes hym sone, Clepes to his chamberlayn, choses his wede, Boȝez forth, quen he watz boun, blyþely to masse; And þenne he meued to his mete þat menskly hym keped, And made myry al day, til þe mone rysed, with game. Watz neuer freke fayrer fonge Bitwene two so dyngne dame, Þe alder and þe ȝonge; Much solace set þay same.

And ay þe lorde of þe londe is lent on his gamnez, To hunt in holtez and heþe at hyndez barayne; Such a sowme he þer slowe bi þat þe sunne heldet, Of dos and of oþer dere, to deme were wonder. Þenne fersly þay flokked in folk at þe laste, And quykly of þe quelled dere a querré þay maked. Þe best boȝed þerto with burnez innoghe, Gedered þe grattest of gres þat þer were, And didden hem derely vndo as þe dede askez; Serched hem at þe asay summe þat þer were, Two fyngeres þay fonde of þe fowlest of alle. Syþen þay slyt þe slot, sesed þe erber, Schaued wyth a scharp knyf, and þe schyre knitten; Syþen rytte þay þe foure lymmes, and rent of þe hyde, Þen brek þay þe balé, þe bowelez out token Lystily for laucyng þe lere of þe knot; Þay gryped to þe gargulun, and grayþely departed Þe wesaunt fro þe wynt-hole, and walt out þe guttez; Þen scher þay out þe schulderez with her scharp knyuez, Haled hem by a lyttel hole to haue hole sydes. Siþen britned þay þe brest and brayden hit in twynne, And eft at þe gargulun bigynez on þenne, Ryuez hit vp radly ryȝt to þe byȝt, Voydez out þe avanters, and verayly þerafter Alle þe rymez by þe rybbez radly þay lance; So ryde þay of by resoun bi þe rygge bonez, Euenden to þe haunche, þat henged alle samen, And heuen hit vp al hole, and hwen hit of þere, And þat þay neme for þe noumbles bi nome, as I trowe, bi kynde; Bi þe byȝt al of þe þyȝes Þe lappez þay lance bihynde; To hewe hit in two þay hyȝes, Bi þe bakbon to vnbynde.

Boþe þe hede and þe hals þay hwen of þenne, And syþen sunder þay þe sydez swyft fro þe chyne, And þe corbeles fee þay kest in a greue; Þenn þurled þay ayþer þik side þurȝ bi þe rybbe, And henged þenne ayþer bi hoȝez of þe fourchez, Vche freke for his fee, as fallez for to haue. Vpon a felle of þe fayre best fede þay þayr houndes Wyth þe lyuer and þe lyȝtez, þe leþer of þe paunchez, And bred baþed in blod blende þeramongez. Baldely þay blw prys, bayed þayr rachchez, Syþen fonge þay her flesche, folden to home, Strakande ful stoutly mony stif motez. Bi þat þe daylyȝt watz done þe douthe watz al wonen Into þe comly castel, þer þe knyȝt bidez ful stille, Wyth blys and bryȝt fyr bette. Þe lorde is comen þertylle; When Gawayn wyth hym mette Þer watz bot wele at wylle.

Thenne comaunded þe lorde in þat sale to samen alle þe meny, Boþe þe ladyes on loghe to lyȝt with her burdes Bifore alle þe folk on þe flette, frekez he beddez Verayly his venysoun to fech hym byforne, And al godly in gomen Gawayn he called, Techez hym to þe tayles of ful tayt bestes, Schewez hym þe schyree grece schorne vpon rybbes. "How payez yow þis play? Haf I prys wonnen? Haue I þryuandely þonk þurȝ my craft serued?" "Ȝe iwysse," quoþ þat oþer wyȝe, "here is wayth fayrest Þat I seȝ þis seuen ȝere in sesoun of wynter." "And al I gif yow, Gawayn," quoþ þe gome þenne, "For by acorde of couenaunt ȝe craue hit as your awen." "Þis is soth," quoþ þe segge, "I say yow þat ilke: Þat I haf worthyly wonnen þis wonez wythinne, Iwysse with as god wylle hit worþez to ȝourez." He hasppez his fayre hals his armez wythinne, And kysses hym as comlyly as he couþe awyse: "Tas yow þere my cheuicaunce, I cheued no more; I wowche hit saf fynly, þaȝ feler hit were." "Hit is god," quoþ þe godmon, "grant mercy þerfore. Hit may be such hit is þe better, and ȝe me breue wolde Where ȝe wan þis ilk wele bi wytte of yorseluen." "Þat watz not forward," quoþ he, "frayst me no more. For ȝe haf tan þat yow tydez, trawe non oþer Ȝe mowe." Þay laȝed, and made hem blyþe Wyth lotez þat were to lowe; To soper þay ȝede as-swyþe, Wyth dayntés nwe innowe.

And syþen by þe chymné in chamber þay seten, Wyȝez þe walle wyn weȝed to hem oft, And efte in her bourdyng þay bayþen in þe morn To fylle þe same forwardez þat þay byfore maden: Wat chaunce so bytydez hor cheuysaunce to chaunge, What nwez so þay nome, at naȝt quen þay metten. Þay acorded of þe couenauntez byfore þe court alle; Þe beuerage watz broȝt forth in bourde at þat tyme, Þenne þay louelych leȝten leue at þe last, Vche burne to his bedde busked bylyue. Bi þat þe coke hade crowen and cakled bot þryse, Þe lorde watz lopen of his bedde, þe leudez vchone; So þat þe mete and þe masse watz metely delyuered, Þe douthe dressed to þe wod, er any day sprenged, to chace; Heȝ with hunte and hornez Þurȝ playnez þay passe in space, Vncoupled among þo þornez Rachez þat ran on race.

SONE þay calle of a quest in a ker syde, Þe hunt rehayted þe houndez þat hit fyrst mynged, Wylde wordez hym warp wyth a wrast noyce; Þe howndez þat hit herde hastid þider swyþe, And fellen as fast to þe fuyt, fourty at ones; Þenne such a glauer ande glam of gedered rachchez Ros, þat þe rocherez rungen aboute; Hunterez hem hardened with horne and wyth muthe. Þen al in a semblé sweyed togeder, Bitwene a flosche in þat fryth and a foo cragge; In a knot bi a clyffe, at þe kerre syde, Þer as þe rogh rocher vnrydely watz fallen, Þay ferden to þe fyndyng, and frekez hem after; Þay vmbekesten þe knarre and þe knot boþe, Wyȝez, whyl þay wysten wel wythinne hem hit were, Þe best þat þer breued watz wyth þe blodhoundez. Þenne þay beten on þe buskez, and bede hym vpryse, And he vnsoundyly out soȝt seggez ouerþwert; On þe sellokest swyn swenged out þere, Long sythen fro þe sounder þat siȝed for olde, For he watz breme, bor alþer-grattest, Ful grymme quen he gronyed; þenne greued mony, For þre at þe fyrst þrast he þryȝt to þe erþe, And sparred forth good sped boute spyt more. Þise oþer halowed hyghe! ful hyȝe, and hay! hay! cryed, Haden hornez to mouþe, heterly rechated; Mony watz þe myry mouthe of men and of houndez Þat buskkez after þis bor with bost and wyth noyse to quelle. Ful oft he bydez þe baye, And maymez þe mute inn melle; He hurtez of þe houndez, and þay Ful ȝomerly ȝaule and ȝelle.

Schalkez to schote at hym schowen to þenne, Haled to hym of her arewez, hitten hym oft; Bot þe poyntez payred at þe pyth þat pyȝt in his scheldez, And þe barbez of his browe bite non wolde — Þaȝ þe schauen schaft schyndered in pecez, Þe hede hypped aȝayn were-so-euer hit hitte. Bot quen þe dyntez hym dered of her dryȝe strokez, Þen, braynwod for bate, on burnez he rasez, Hurtez hem ful heterly þer he forth hyȝez, And mony arȝed þerat, and on lyte droȝen. Bot þe lorde on a lyȝt horce launces hym after, As burne bolde vpon bent his bugle he blowez, He rechated, and rode þurȝ ronez ful þyk, Suande þis wylde swyn til þe sunne schafted. Þis day wyth þis ilk dede þay dryuen on þis wyse, Whyle oure luflych lede lys in his bedde, Gawayn grayþely at home, in gerez ful ryche of hewe. Þe lady noȝt forȝate, Com to hym to salue; Ful erly ho watz hym ate His mode for to remwe.

Ho commes to þe cortyn, and at þe knyȝt totes. Sir Wawen her welcumed worþy on fyrst, And ho hym ȝeldez aȝayn ful ȝerne of hir wordez, Settez hir softly by his syde, and swyþely ho laȝez, And wyth a luflych loke ho layde hym þyse wordez: "Sir, ȝif ȝe be Wawen, wonder me þynkkez, Wyȝe þat is so wel wrast alway to god, And connez not of compaynye þe costez vndertake, And if mon kennes yow hom to knowe, ȝe kest hom of your mynde; Þou hatz forȝeten ȝederly þat ȝisterday I taȝtte Bi alder-truest token of talk þat I cowþe." "What is þat?" quoþ þe wyghe, "Iwysse I wot neuer; If hit be sothe þat ȝe breue, þe blame is myn awen." "Ȝet I kende yow of kyssyng," quoþ þe clere þenne, "Quere-so countenaunce is couþe quikly to clayme; Þat bicumes vche a knyȝt þat cortaysy vses." "Do way," quoþ þat derf mon, "my dere, þat speche, For þat durst I not do, lest I deuayed were; If I were werned, I were wrang, iwysse, ȝif I profered." "Ma fay," quoþ þe meré wyf, "ȝe may not be werned, Ȝe ar stif innoghe to constrayne wyth strenkþe, ȝif yow lykez, Ȝif any were so vilanous þat yow devaye wolde." "Ȝe, be God," quoþ Gawayn, "good is your speche, Bot þrete is vnþryuande in þede þer I lende, And vche gift þat is geuen not with goud wylle. I am at your comaundement, to kysse quen yow lykez, Ȝe may lach quen yow lyst, and leue quen yow þynkkez, in space." Þe lady loutez adoun, And comlyly kysses his face, Much speche þay þer expoun Of druryes greme and grace.

"I woled wyt at yow, wyȝe," þat worþy þer sayde, "And yow wrathed not þerwyth, what were þe skylle Þat so ȝong and so ȝepe as ȝe at þis tyme, So cortayse, so knyȝtly, as ȝe ar knowen oute — And of alle cheualry to chose, þe chef þyng alosed Is þe lel layk of luf, þe lettrure of armes; For to telle of þis teuelyng of þis trwe knyȝtez, Hit is þe tytelet token and tyxt of her werkkez,  How ledes for her lele luf hor lyuez han auntered, Endured for her drury dulful stoundez, And after wenged with her walour and voyded her care, And broȝt blysse into boure with bountees hor awen — And ȝe ar knyȝt comlokest kyd of your elde,  Your worde and your worchip walkez ayquere, And I haf seten by yourself here sere twyes, Ȝet herde I neuer of your hed helde no wordez Þat euer longed to luf, lasse ne more; And ȝe, þat ar so cortays and coynt of your hetes,  Oghe to a ȝonke þynk ȝern to schewe And teche sum tokenez of trweluf craftes. Why! ar ȝe lewed, þat alle þe los weldez? Oþer elles ȝe demen me to dille your dalyaunce to herken? For schame! I com hider sengel, and sitte To lerne at yow sum game; Dos, techez me of your wytte, Whil my lorde is fro hame."

"In goud fayþe," quoþ Gawayn, "God yow forȝelde! Gret is þe gode gle, and gomen to me huge, Þat so worþy as ȝe wolde wynne hidere, And pyne yow with so pouer a mon, as play wyth your knyȝt With anyskynnez countenaunce, hit keuerez me ese; Bot to take þe toruayle to myself to trwluf expoun,  And towche þe temez of tyxt and talez of armez To yow þat, I wot wel, weldez more slyȝt Of þat art, bi þe half, or a hundreth of seche As I am, oþer euer schal, in erde þer I leue, Hit were a folé felefolde, my fre, by my trawþe.  I wolde yowre wylnyng worche at my myȝt, As I am hyȝly bihalden, and euermore wylle Be seruaunt to yourseluen, so saue me Dryȝtyn!" Þus hym frayned þat fre, and fondet hym ofte, For to haf wonnen hym to woȝe, what-so scho þoȝt ellez; Bot he defended hym so fayr þat no faut semed, Ne non euel on nawþer halue, nawþer þay wysten bot blysse. Þay laȝed and layked longe; At þe last scho con hym kysse, Hir leue fayre con scho fonge And went hir waye, iwysse.

Then ruþes hym þe renk and ryses to þe masse, And siþen hor diner watz dyȝt and derely serued. Þe lede with þe ladyez layked alle day, Bot þe lorde ouer þe londez launced ful ofte, Swez his vncely swyn, þat swyngez bi þe bonkkez And bote þe best of his brachez þe bakkez in sunder Þer he bode in his bay, tel bawemen hit breken, And madee hym mawgref his hed for to mwe vtter, So felle flonez þer flete when þe folk gedered. Bot ȝet þe styffest to start bi stoundez he made, Til at þe last he watz so mat he myȝt no more renne, Bot in þe hast þat he myȝt he to a hole wynnez Of a rasse bi a rokk þer rennez þe boerne. He gete þe bonk at his bak, bigynez to scrape, Þe froþe femed at his mouth vnfayre bi þe wykez, Whettez his whyte tuschez; with hym þen irked Alle þe burnez so bolde þat hym by stoden To nye hym on-ferum, bot neȝe hym non durst for woþe; He hade hurt so mony byforne Þat al þuȝt þenne ful loþe Be more wyth his tusches torne, Þat breme watz and braynwod bothe,

Til þe knyȝt com hymself, kachande his blonk, Syȝ hym byde at þe bay, his burnez bysyde; He lyȝtes luflych adoun, leuez his corsour, Braydez out a bryȝt bront and bigly forth strydez, Foundez fast þurȝ þe forth þer þe felle bydez. Þe wylde watz war of þe wyȝe with weppen in honde, Hef hyȝly þe here, so hetterly he fnast Þat fele ferde for þe freke, lest felle hym þe worre. Þe swyn settez hym out on þe segge euen, Þat þe burne and þe bor were boþe vpon hepez In þe wyȝtest of þe water; þe worre hade þat oþer, For þe mon merkkez hym wel, as þay mette fyrst, Set sadly þe scharp in þe slot euen, Hit hym vp to þe hult, þat þe hert schyndered, And he ȝarrande hym ȝelde, and ȝedoun þe water ful tyt. A hundreth houndez hym hent, Þat bremely con hym bite, Burnez him broȝt to bent, And doggez to dethe endite.

There watz blawyng of prys in mony breme horne, Heȝe halowing on hiȝe with haþelez þat myȝt; Brachetes bayed þat best, as bidden þe maysterez Of þat chargeaunt chace þat were chef huntes. Þenne a wyȝe þat watz wys vpon wodcraftez To vnlace þis bor lufly bigynnez. Fyrst he hewes of his hed and on hiȝe settez, And syþen rendez him al roghe bi þe rygge after, Braydez out þe boweles, brennez hom on glede, With bred blent þerwith his braches rewardez. Syþen he britnez out þe brawen in bryȝt brode cheldez, And hatz out þe hastlettez, as hiȝtly bisemez; And ȝet hem halchez al hole þe haluez togeder, And syþen on a stif stange stoutly hem henges. Now with þis ilk swyn þay swengen to home; Þe bores hed watz borne bifore þe burnes seluen Þat him forferde in þe forþe þurȝ forse of his honde so stronge. Til he seȝ Sir Gawayne In halle hym poȝt ful longe; He calde, and he com gayn His feez þer for to fonge.

Þe lorde ful lowde with lote and laȝter myry, When he seȝe Sir Gawayn, with solace he spekez; Þe goude ladyez were geten, and gedered þe meyny, He schewez hem þe scheldez, and schapes hem þe tale Of þe largesse and þe lenþe, þe liþernez alse Of þe were of þe wylde swyn in wod þer he fled. Þat oþer knyȝt ful comly comended his dedez, And praysed hit as gret prys þat he proued hade, For suche a brawne of a best, þe bolde burne sayde, Ne such sydes of a swyn segh he neuer are. Þenne hondeled þay þe hoge hed, þe hende mon hit praysed, And let lodly þerat þe lorde for to here. "Now, Gawayn," quoþ þe godmon, "þis gomen is your awen Bi fyn forwarde and faste, faythely ȝe knowe." "Hit is sothe," quoþ þe segge, "and as siker trwe Alle my get I schal yow gif agayn, bi my trawþe." He hent þe haþel aboute þe halse, and hendely hym kysses, And eftersones of þe same he serued hym þere. "Now ar we euen," quoþ þe haþel, "in þis euentide Of alle þe couenauntes þat we knyt, syþen I com hider, bi lawe." Þe lorde sayde, "Bi saynt Gile, Ȝe ar þe best þat I knowe! Ȝe ben ryche in a whyle, Such chaffer and ȝe drowe."

Þenne þay teldet tablez trestes alofte, Kesten cloþen vpon; clere lyȝt þenne Wakned bi woȝez, waxen torches; Seggez sette and serued in sale al aboute; Much glam and gle glent vp þerinne Aboute þe fyre vpon flet, and on fele wyse At þe soper and after, mony aþel songez, As coundutes of Krystmasse and carolez newe With al þe manerly merþe þat mon may of telle, And euer oure luflych knyȝt þe lady bisyde. Such semblaunt to þat segge semly ho made Wyth stille stollen countenaunce, þat stalworth to plese, Þat al forwondered watz þe wyȝe, and wroth with hymseluen, Bot he nolde not for his nurture nurne hir aȝaynez, Bot dalt with hir al in daynté, how-se-euer þe dede turned towrast. Quen þay hade played in halle As longe as hor wylle hom last, To chambre he con hym calle, And to þe chemné þay past.

Ande þer þay dronken, and dalten, and demed eft nwe To norne on þe same note on Nwe ȝerez euen; Bot þe knyȝt craued leue to kayre on þe morn, For hit watz neȝ at þe terme þat he to schulde. Þe lorde hym letted of þat, to lenge hym resteyed, And sayde, "As I am trwe segge, I siker my trawþe Þou schal cheue to þe grene chapel þy charres to make, Leude, on Nw ȝerez lyȝt, longe bifore pryme. Forþy þow lye in þy loft and lach þyn ese, And I schal hunt in þis holt, and halde þe towchez, Chaunge wyth þe cheuisaunce, bi þat I charre hider; For I haf fraysted þe twys, and faythful I fynde þe. Now "þrid tyme þrowe best" þenk on þe morne,  Make we mery quyl we may and mynne vpon joye, For þe lur may mon lach when-so mon lykez." Þis watz grayþely graunted, and Gawayn is lenged, Bliþe broȝt watz hym drynk, and þay to bedde ȝeden with liȝt. Sir Gawayn lis and slepes Ful stille and softe al niȝt; Þe lorde þat his craftez kepes, Ful erly he watz diȝt.

After messe a morsel he and his men token; Miry watz þe mornyng, his mounture he askes. Alle þe haþeles þat on horse schulde helden hym after Were boun busked on hor blonkkez bifore þe halle ȝatez. Ferly fayre watz þe folde, for þe forst clenged; In rede rudede vpon rak rises þe sunne, And ful clere costez þe clowdes of þe welkyn. Hunteres vnhardeled bi a holt syde, Rocheres roungen bi rys for rurde of her hornes; Summe fel in þe fute þer þe fox bade, Traylez ofte a traueres bi traunt of her wyles; A kenet kyres þerof, þe hunt on hym calles; His felaȝes fallen hym to, þat fnasted ful þike, Runnen forth in a rabel in his ryȝt fare, And he fyskez hem byfore; þay founden hym sone, And quen þay seghe hym with syȝt þay sued hym fast, Wreȝande hym ful weterly with a wroth noyse; And he trantes and tornayeez þurȝ mony tene greue, Hauilounez, and herkenez bi heggez ful ofte. At þe last bi a littel dich he lepez ouer a spenne, Stelez out ful stilly bi a strothe rande, Went haf wylt of þe wode with wylez fro þe houndes; Þenne watz he went, er he wyst, to a wale tryster, Þer þre þro at a þrich þrat hym at ones, al graye. He blenched aȝayn bilyue And stifly start on-stray, With alle þe wo on lyue To þe wod he went away.

Thenne watz hit list vpon lif to lyþen þe houndez, When alle þe mute hade hym met, menged togeder: Suche a sorȝe at þat syȝt þay sette on his hede As alle þe clamberande clyffes hade clatered on hepes; Here he watz halawed, when haþelez hym metten, Loude he watz ȝayned with ȝarande speche; Þer he watz þreted and ofte þef called, And ay þe titleres at his tayl, þat tary he ne myȝt; Ofte he watz runnen at, when he out rayked, And ofte reled in aȝayn, so Reniarde watz wylé. And ȝe he lad hem bi lagmon, þe lorde and his meyny, On þis maner bi þe mountes quyle myd-ouer-vnder, Whyle þe hende knyȝt at home holsumly slepes Withinne þe comly cortynes, on þe colde morne. Bot þe lady for luf let not to slepe, Ne þe purpose to payre þat pyȝt in hir hert, Bot ros hir vp radly, rayked hir þeder In a mery mantyle, mete to þe erþe, Þat watz furred ful fyne with fellez wel pured, No hwef goud on hir hede bot þe haȝer stones Trased aboute hir tressour be twenty in clusteres; Hir þryuen face and hir þrote þrowen al naked, Hir brest bare bifore, and bihinde eke. Ho comez withinne þe chambre dore, and closes hit hir after, Wayuez vp a wyndow, and on þe wyȝe callez, And radly þus rehayted hym with hir riche wordes, with chere: "A! mon, how may þou slepe, Þis morning is so clere?" He watz in drowping depe, Bot þenne he con hir here.

In dreȝ droupyng of dreme draueled þat noble, As mon þat watz in mornyng of mony þro þoȝtes, How þat destiné schulde þat day dele hym his wyrde At þe grene chapel, when he þe gome metes, And bihoues his buffet abide withoute debate more; Bot quen þat comly com he keuered his wyttes, Swenges out of þe sweuenes, and swarez with hast. Þe lady luflych com laȝande swete, Felle ouer his fayre face, and fetly hym kyssed; He welcumez hir worþily with a wale chere. He seȝ hir so glorious and gayly atyred, So fautles of hir fetures and of so fyne hewes, Wiȝt wallande joye warmed his hert. With smoþe smylyng and smolt þay smeten into merþe, Þat al watz blis and bonchef þat breke hem bitwene, and wynne. Þay lanced wordes gode, Much wele þen watz þerinne; Gret perile bitwene hem stod, Nif Maré of hir knyȝt mynne.

For þat prynces of pris depresed hym so þikke, Nurned hym so neȝe þe þred, þat nede hym bihoued Oþer lach þer hir luf, oþer lodly refuse. He cared for his cortaysye, lest craþayn he were, And more for his meschef ȝif he schulde make synne, And be traytor to þat tolke þat þat telde aȝt. "God schylde," quoþ þe schalk, "þat schal not befalle!" With luf-laȝyng a lyt he layd hym bysyde Alle þe spechez of specialté þat sprange of her mouthe. Quoþ þat burde to þe burne, "Blame ȝe disserue, Ȝif ȝe luf not þat lyf þat ȝe lye nexte, Bifore alle þe wyȝez in þe worlde wounded in hert, Bot if ȝe haf a lemman, a leuer, þat yow lykez better, And folden fayth to þat fre, festned so harde Þat yow lausen ne lyst — and þat I leue nouþe; And þat ȝe telle me þat now trwly I pray yow,  For alle þe lufez vpon lyue layne not þe soþe for gile." Þe knyȝt sayde, "Be sayn Jon," And smeþely con he smyle, "In fayth I welde riȝt non, Ne non wil welde þe quile."

"Þat is a worde," quoþ þat wyȝt, "þat worst is of alle, Bot I am swared for soþe, þat sore me þinkkez. Kysse me now comly, and I schal cach heþen, I may bot mourne vpon molde, as may þat much louyes." Sykande ho sweȝe doun and semly hym kyssed, And siþen ho seueres hym fro, and says as ho stondes, "Now, dere, at þis departyng do me þis ese, Gif me sumquat of þy gifte, þi gloue if hit were, Þat I may mynne on þe, mon, my mournyng to lassen." "Now iwysse," quoþ þat wyȝe, "I wolde I hade here Þe leuest þing for þy luf þat I in londe welde, For ȝe haf deserued, for soþe, sellyly ofte More rewarde bi resoun þen I reche myȝt; Bot to dele yow for drurye þat dawed bot neked, Hit is not your honour to haf at þis tyme A gloue for a garysoun of Gawaynez giftez, And I am here an erande in erdez vncouþe, And haue no men wyth no malez with menskful þingez; Þat mislykez me, ladé, for luf at þis tyme,  Iche tolke mon do as he is tan, tas to non ille ne pine." "Nay, hende of hyȝe honours," Quoþ þat lufsum vnder lyne, "Þaȝ I hade noȝt of yourez, Ȝet schulde ȝe haue of myne."

Ho raȝt hym a riche rynk of red golde werkez, Wyth a starande ston stondande alofte Þat bere blusschande bemez as þe bryȝt sunne; Wyt ȝe wel, hit watz worth wele ful hoge. Bot þe renk hit renayed, and redyly he sayde, "I wil no giftez, for Gode, my gay, at þis tyme; I haf none yow to norne, ne noȝt wyl I take." Ho bede hit hym ful bysily, and he hir bode wernes, And swere swyfte by his sothe þat he hit sese nolde, And ho soré þat he forsoke, and sayde þerafter, "If ȝe renay my rynk, to ryche for hit semez, Ȝe wolde not so hyȝly halden be to me, I schal gif yow my girdel, þat gaynes yow lasse." Ho laȝt a lace lyȝtly þat leke vmbe hir sydez, Knit vpon hir kyrtel vnder þe clere mantyle, Gered hit watz with grene sylke and with golde schaped, Noȝt bot arounde brayden, beten with fyngrez; And þat ho bede to þe burne, and blyþely bisoȝt, Þaȝ hit vnworþi were, þat he hit take wolde. And he nay þat he nolde neghe in no wyse Nauþer golde ne garysoun, er God hym grace sende To acheue to þe chaunce þat he hade chosen þere. "And þerfore, I pray yow, displese yow noȝt, And lettez be your bisinesse, for I bayþe hit yow neuer to graunte; I am derely to yow biholde Bicause of your sembelaunt, And euer in hot and colde To be your trwe seruaunt."

"Now forsake ȝe þis silke," sayde þe burde þenne, "For hit is symple in hitself? And so hit wel semez. Lo! so hit is littel, and lasse hit is worþy; Bot who-so knew þe costes þat knit ar þerinne, He wolde hit prayse at more prys, parauenture; For quat gome so is gorde with þis grene lace, While he hit hade hemely halched aboute, Þer is no haþel vnder heuen tohewe hym þat myȝt, For he myȝt not be slayn for slyȝt vpon erþe." Þen kest þe knyȝt, and hit come to his hert Hit were a juel for þe jopardé þat hym iugged were: When he acheued to þe chapel his chek for to fech, Myȝt he haf slypped to be vnslayn, þe sleȝt were noble. Þenne he þulged with hir þrepe and þoled hir to speke, And ho bere on hym þe belt and bede hit hym swyþe — And he granted and hym gafe with a goud wylle — And bisoȝt hym, for hir sake, disceuer hit neuer, Bot to lelly layne fro hir lorde; þe leude hym acordez Þat neuer wyȝe schulde hit wyt, iwysse, bot þay twayne for noȝte; He þonkked hir oft ful swyþe, Ful þro with hert and þoȝt. Bi þat on þrynne syþe Ho hatz kyst þe knyȝt so toȝt.

Thenne lachchez ho hir leue, and leuez hym þere, For more myrþe of þat mon moȝt ho not gete. When ho watz gon, Sir Gawayn gerez hym sone, Rises and riches hym in araye noble, Lays vp þe luf-lace þe lady hym raȝt, Hid hit ful holdely, þer he hit eft fonde. Syþen cheuely to þe chapel choses he þe waye, Preuély aproched to a prest, and prayed hym þere Þat he wolde lyste his lyf and lern hym better How his sawle schulde be saued when he schuld seye heþen. Þere he schrof hym schyrly and schewed his mysdedez, Of þe more and þe mynne, and merci besechez, And of absolucioun he on þe segge calles; And he asoyled hym surely and sette hym so clene As domezday schulde haf ben diȝt on þe morn. And syþen he mace hym as mery among þe fre ladyes, With comlych caroles and alle kynnes ioye, As neuer he did bot þat daye, to þe derk nyȝt, with blys. Vche mon hade daynté þare Of hym, and sayde, "Iwysse, Þus myry he watz neuer are, Syn he com hider, er þis."

Now hym lenge in þat lee, þer luf hym bityde! Ȝet is þe lorde on þe launde ledande his gomnes. He hatz forfaren þis fox þat he folȝed longe; As he sprent ouer a spenne to spye þe schrewe, Þer as he herd þe howndes þat hasted hym swyþe, Renaud com richchande þurȝ a roȝe greue, And alle þe rabel in a res ryȝt at his helez. Þe wyȝe watz war of þe wylde, and warly abides, And braydez out þe bryȝt bronde, and at þe best castez. And he schunt for þe scharp, and schulde haf arered; A rach rapes hym to, ryȝt er he myȝt, And ryȝt bifore þe hors fete þay fel on hym alle, And woried me þis wyly wyth a wroth noyse. Þe lorde lyȝtez bilyue, and lachez hym sone, Rased hym ful radly out of þe rach mouþes, Haldez heȝe ouer his hede, halowez faste, And þer bayen hym mony braþ houndez. Huntes hyȝed hem þeder with hornez ful mony, Ay rechatande aryȝt til þay þe renk seȝen. Bi þat watz comen his compeyny noble, Alle þat euer ber bugle blowed at ones, And alle þise oþer halowed þat hade no hornes; Hit watz þe myriest mute þat euer men herde, Þe rich rurd þat þer watz raysed for Renaude saule with lote. Hor houndez þay þer rewarde, Her hedez þay fawne and frote, And syþen þay tan Reynarde, And tyruen of his cote.

And þenne þay helden to home, for hit watz nieȝ nyȝt, Strakande ful stoutly in hor store hornez. Þe lorde is lyȝt at þe laste at hys lef home, Fyndez fire vpon flet, þe freke þer-byside, Sir Gawayn þe gode, þat glad watz withalle, Among þe ladies for luf he ladde much ioye; He were a bleaunt of blwe þat bradde to þe erþe, His surkot semed hym wel þat softe watz forred, And his hode of þat ilke henged on his schulder, Blande al of blaunner were boþe al aboute. He metez me þis godmon inmyddez þe flore, And al with gomen he hym gret, and goudly he sayde, "I schal fylle vpon fyrst oure forwardez nouþe, Þat we spedly han spoken, þer spared watz no drynk." Þen acoles he þe knyȝt and kysses hym þryes, As sauerly and sadly as he hem sette couþe. "Bi Kryst," quoþ þat oþer knyȝt, "ȝe cach much sele In cheuisaunce of þis chaffer, ȝif ȝe hade goud chepez." "Ȝe, of þe chepe no charg," quoþ chefly þat oþer, "As is pertly payed þe chepez þat I aȝte." "Mary," quoþ þat oþer mon, "myn is bihynde, For I haf hunted al þis day, and noȝt haf I geten Bot þis foule fox felle — þe fende haf þe godez! — And þat is ful pore for to pay for suche prys þinges As ȝe haf þryȝt me here þro, suche þre cosses so gode." "Inoȝ," quoþ Sir Gawayn, "I þonk yow, bi þe rode", And how þe fox watz slayn He tolde hym as þay stode.

With merþe and mynstralsye, with metez at hor wylle, Þay maden as mery as any men moȝten — With laȝyne of ladies, with lotez of bordes Gawayn and þe godemon so glad were þay boþe — Bot if þe douthe had doted, oþer dronken ben oþer. Boþe þe mon and þe meyny maden mony iapez, Til þe sesoun watz seȝen þat þay seuer moste; Burnez to hor bedde behoued at þe laste. Þenne loȝly his leue at þe lorde fyrst Fochchez þis fre mon, and fayre he hym þonkkez: "Of such a selly soiorne as I haf hade here, Your honour at þis hyȝe fest, þe hyȝe kyng yow ȝelde! I ȝef yow me for on of yourez, if yowreself lykez, For I mot nedes, as ȝe wot, meue to-morne, And ȝe me take sum tolke to teche, as ȝe hyȝt, Þe gate to þe grene chapel, as God wyl me suffer To dele on Nw ȝerez day þe dome of my wyrdes." "In god fayþe," quoþ þe godmon, "wyth a goud wylle Al þat euer I yow hyȝt halde schal I redé." Þer asyngnes he a seruaunt to sett hym in þe waye, And coundue hym by þe downez, þat he no drechch had, For to ferk þurȝ þe fryth and fare at þe gaynest bi greue. Þe lorde Gawayn con þonk, Such worchip he wolde hym weue. Þen at þo ladyez wlonk Þe knyȝt hatz tan his leue.

With care and wyth kyssyng he carppez hem tille, And fele þryuande þonkkez he þrat hom to haue, And þay ȝelden hym aȝayn ȝeply þat ilk; Þay bikende hym to Kryst with ful colde sykyngez. Syþen fro þe meyny he menskly departes; Vche mon þat he mette, he made hem a þonke For his seruyse and his solace and his sere pyne, Þat þay wyth busynes had ben aboute hym to serue; And vche segge as soré to seuer with hym þere As þay hade wonde worþyly with þat wlonk euer. Þen with ledes and lyȝt he watz ladde to his chambre And blyþely broȝt to his bedde to be at his rest. Ȝif he ne slepe soundyly say ne dar I, For he hade muche on þe morn to mynne, ȝif he wolde, in þoȝt. Let hym lyȝe þere stille, He hatz nere þat he soȝt; And ȝe wyl a whyle be stylle I schal telle yow how þay wroȝt.

Fit IV
Now neȝez þe Nw ȝere, and þe nyȝt passez, Þe day dryuez to þe derk, as Dryȝtyn biddez; Bot wylde wederez of þe worlde wakned þeroute, Clowdes kesten kenly þe colde to þe erþe, Wyth nyȝe innoghe of þe norþe, þe naked to tene; Þe snawe snitered ful snart, þat snayped þe wylde; Þe werbelande wynde wapped fro þe hyȝe, And drof vche dale ful of dryftes ful grete. Þe leude lystened ful wel þat leȝ in his bedde, Þaȝ he lowkez his liddez, ful lyttel he slepes; Bi vch kok þat crue he knwe wel þe steuen. Deliuerly he dressed vp, er þe day sprenged, For þere watz lyȝt of a laumpe þat lemed in his chambre; He called to his chamberlayn, þat cofly hym swared, And bede hym bryng hym his bruny and his blonk sadel; Þat oþer ferkez hym vp and fechez hym his wedez, And grayþez me Sir Gawayn vpon a grett wyse. Fyrst he clad hym in his cloþez þe colde for to were, And syþen his oþer harnays, þat holdely watz keped, Boþe his paunce and his platez, piked ful clene, Þe ryngez rokked of þe roust of his riche bruny; And al watz fresch as vpon fyrst, and he watz fayn þenne to þonk; He hade vpon vche pece, Wypped ful wel and wlonk; Þe gayest into Grece, Þe burne bede bryng his blonk.

Whyle þe wlonkest wedes he warp on hymseluen — His cote wyth þe conysaunce of þe clere werkez Ennurned vpon veluet, vertuus stonez Aboute beten and bounden, enbrauded semez, And fayre furred withinne wyth fayre pelures — Ȝet laft he not þe lace, þe ladiez gifte, Þat forgat not Gawayn for gode of hymseluen. Bi he hade belted þe bronde vpon his balȝe haunchez, Þenn dressed he his drurye double hym aboute, Swyþe sweþled vmbe his swange swetely þat knyȝt Þe gordel of þe grene silke, þat gay wel bisemed, Vpon þat ryol red cloþe þat ryche watz to schewe. Bot wered not þis ilk wyȝe for wele þis gordel, For pryde of þe pendauntez, þaȝ polyst þay were, And þaȝ þe glyterande golde glent vpon endez, Bot for to sauen hymself, when suffer hym byhoued, To byde bale withoute dabate of bronde hym to were oþer knyffe. Bi þat þe bolde mon boun Wynnez þeroute bilyue, Alle þe meyny of renoun He þonkkez ofte ful ryue.

Thenne watz Gryngolet grayþe, þat gret watz and huge, And hade ben soiourned sauerly and in a siker wyse, Hym lyst prik for poynt, þat proude hors þenne. Þe wyȝe wynnez hym to and wytez on his lyre, And sayde soberly hymself and by his soth swerez: "Here is a meyny in þis mote þat on menske þenkkez, Þe mon hem maynteines, ioy mot þay haue; Þe leue lady on lyue luf hir bityde; Ȝif þay for charyté cherysen a gest, And halden honour in her honde, þe haþel hem ȝelde Þat haldez þe heuen vpon hyȝe, and also yow alle! And ȝif I myȝt lyf vpon londe lede any quyle, I schuld rech yow sum rewarde redyly, if I myȝt." Þenn steppez he into stirop and strydez alofte; His schalk schewed hym his schelde, on schulder he hit laȝt, Gordez to Gryngolet with his gilt helez, And he startez on þe ston, stod he no lenger to praunce. His haþel on hors watz þenne, Þat bere his spere and launce. "Þis kastel to Kryst I kenne": He gef hit ay god chaunce.

The brygge watz brayde doun, and þe brode ȝatez Vnbarred and born open vpon boþe halue. Þe burne blessed hym bilyue, and þe bredez passed — Prayses þe porter bifore þe prynce kneled, Gef hym God and goud day, þat Gawayn he saue — And went on his way with his wyȝe one, Þat schulde teche hym to tourne to þat tene place Þer þe ruful race he schulde resayue. Þay boȝen bi bonkkez þer boȝez ar bare, Þay clomben bi clyffez þer clengez þe colde. Þe heuen watz vphalt, bot vgly þer-vnder; Mist muged on þe mor, malt on þe mountez, Vch hille hade a hatte, a myst-hakel huge. Brokez byled and breke bi bonkkez aboute, Schyre schaterande on schorez, þer þay doun schowued. Wela wylle watz þe way þer þay bi wod schulden, Til hit watz sone sesoun þat þe sunne ryses þat tyde. Þay were on a hille ful hyȝe, Þe quyte snaw lay bisyde; Þe burne þat rod hym by Bede his mayster abide.

"For I haf wonnen yow hider, wyȝe, at þis tyme, And now nar ȝe not fer fro þat note place Þat ȝe han spied and spuryed so specially after; Bot I schal say yow for soþe, syþen I yow knowe, And ȝe ar a lede vpon lyue þat I wel louy,  Wolde ȝe worch bi my wytte, ȝe worþed þe better. Þe place þat ȝe prece to ful perelous is halden; Þer wonez a wyȝe in þat waste, þe worst vpon erþe, For he is stiffe and sturne, and to strike louies, And more he is þen any mon vpon myddelerde,  And his body bigger þen þe best fowre Þat ar in Arþurez hous, Hestor, oþer oþer. He cheuez þat chaunce at þe chapel grene, Þer passes non bi þat place so proude in his armes Þat he ne dyngez hym to deþe with dynt of his honde;  For he is a mon methles, and mercy non vses, For be hit chorle oþer chaplayn þat bi þe chapel rydes, Monk oþer masseprest, oþer any mon elles, Hym þynk as queme hym to quelle as quyk go hymseluen. Forþy I say þe, as soþe as ȝe in sadel sitte, Com ȝe þere, ȝe be kylled, may þe knyȝt rede, Trawe ȝe me þat trwely, þaȝ ȝe had twenty lyues to spende. He hatz wonyd here ful ȝore, On bent much baret bende, Aȝayn his dyntez sore Ȝe may not yow defende.

"Forþy, goude Sir Gawayn, let þe gome one, And gotz away sum oþer gate, vpon Goddez halue! Cayrez bi sum oþer kyth, þer Kryst mot yow spede,  And I schal hyȝ me hom aȝayn, and hete yow fyrre Þat I schal swere bi God and alle his gode halȝez, As help me God and þe halydam, and oþez innoghe, Þat I schal lelly yow layne, and lance neuer tale Þat euer ȝe fondet to fle for freke þat I wyst." "Grant merci", quoþ Gawayn, and gruchyng he sayde: "Wel worth þe, wyȝe, þat woldez my gode, And þat lelly me layne I leue wel þou woldez. Bot helde þou hit neuer so holde, and I here passed, Founded for ferde for to fle, in fourme þat þou tellez, I were a knyȝt kowarde, I myȝt not be excused. Bot I wyl to þe chapel, for chaunce þat may falle, And talk wyth þat ilk tulk þe tale þat me lyste, Worþe hit wele oþer wo, as þe wyrde lykez hit hafe.  Þaȝe he be a sturn knape To stiȝtel, and stad with staue, Ful wel con Dryȝtyn schape His seruauntez for to saue."

"Mary!" quoþ þat oþer mon, "now þou so much spellez, Þat þou wylt þyn awen nye nyme to þyseluen, And þe lyst lese þy lyf, þe lette I ne kepe. Haf here þi helme on þy hede, þi spere in þi honde, And ryde me doun þis ilk rake bi ȝon rokke syde, Til þou be broȝt to þe boþem of þe brem valay;  Þenne loke a littel on þe launde, on þi lyfte honde, And þou schal se in þat slade þe self chapel, And þe borelych burne on bent þat hit kepez. Now farez wel, on Godez half, Gawayn þe noble! For alle þe golde vpon grounde I nolde go wyth þe,  Ne bere þe felaȝschip þurȝ þis fryth on fote fyrre." Bi þat þe wyȝe in þe wod wendez his brydel, Hit þe hors with þe helez as harde as he myȝt, Lepez hym ouer þe launde, and leuez þe knyȝt þere al one. "Bi Goddez self," quoþ Gawayn, "I wyl nauþer grete ne grone; To Goddez wylle I am ful bayn, And to hym I haf me tone."

Thenne gyrdez he to Gryngolet, and gederez þe rake, Schowuez in bi a schore at a schaȝe syde, Ridez þurȝ þe roȝe bonk ryȝt to þe dale; And þenne he wayted hym aboute, and wylde hit hym þoȝt, And seȝe no syngne of resette bisydez nowhere, Bot hyȝe bonkkez and brent vpon boþe halue, And ruȝe knokled knarrez with knorned stonez; Þe skwez of þe scowtes skayned hym þoȝt. Þenne he houed, and wythhylde his hors at þat tyde, And ofte chaunged his cher þe chapel to seche: He seȝ non suche in no syde, and selly hym þoȝt, Saue, a lyttel on a launde, a lawe as hit were; A balȝ berȝ bi a bonke þe brymme bysyde, Bi a forȝ of a flode þat ferked þare; Þe borne blubred þerinne as hit boyled hade. Þe knyȝt kachez his caple, and com to þe lawe, Liȝtez doun luflyly, and at a lynde tachez Þe rayne and his riche with a roȝe braunche. Þenne he boȝez to þe berȝe, aboute hit he walkez, Debatande with hymself quat hit be myȝt. Hit hade a hole on þe ende and on ayþer syde, And ouergrowen with gresse in glodes aywhere, And al watz holȝ inwith, nobot an olde caue, Or a creuisse of an olde cragge, he couþe hit noȝt deme with spelle. "We! Lorde," quoþ þe gentyle knyȝt, "Wheþer þis be þe grene chapelle? Here myȝt aboute mydnyȝt Þe dele his matynnes telle!

"Now iwysse," quoþ Wowayn, "wysty is here; Þis oritore is vgly, with erbez ouergrowen;  Wel bisemez þe wyȝe wruxled in grene Dele here his deuocioun on þe deuelez wyse. Now I fele hit is þe fende, in my fyue wyttez, Þat hatz stoken me þis steuen to strye me here. Þis is a chapel of meschaunce, þat chekke hit bytyde!  Hit is þe corsedest kyrk þat euer I com inne!" With heȝe helme on his hede, his launce in his honde, He romez vp to þe roffe of þe roȝ wonez. Þene herde he of þat hyȝe hil, in a harde roche Biȝonde þe broke, in a bonk, a wonder breme noyse, Quat! hit clatered in þe clyff, as hit cleue schulde, As one vpon a gryndelston hade grounden a syþe. What! hit wharred and whette, as water at a mulne; What! hit rusched and ronge, rawþe to here. Þenne "Bi Godde," quoþ Gawayn, "þat gere, as I trowe, Is ryched at þe reuerence me, renk, to mete bi rote. Let God worche! "We loo" — Hit helppez me not a mote. My lif þaȝ I forgoo,  Drede dotz me no lote."

Thenne þe knyȝt con calle ful hyȝe: "Who stiȝtlez in þis sted me steuen to holde? For now is gode Gawayn goande ryȝt here. If any wyȝe oȝt wyl, wynne hider fast, Oþer now oþer neuer, his nedez to spede." "Abyde", quoþ on on þe bonke abouen ouer his hede, "And þou schal haf al in hast þat I þe hyȝt ones." Ȝet he rusched on þat rurde rapely a þrowe. And wyth quettyng awharf, er he wolde lyȝt; And syþen he keuerez bi a cragge, and comez of a hole, Whyrlande out of a wro wyth a felle weppen, A denez ax nwe dyȝt, þe dynt with to ȝelde, With a borelych bytte bende by þe halme, Fyled in a fylor, fowre fote large — Hit watz no lasse bi þat lace þat lemed ful bryȝt — And þe gome in þe grene gered as fyrst, Boþe þe lyre and þe leggez, lokkez and berde, Saue þat fayre on his fote he foundez on þe erþe, Sette þe stele to þe stone, and stalked bysyde. When he wan to þe watter, þer he wade nolde, He hypped ouer on hys ax, and orpedly strydez, Bremly broþe on a bent þat brode watz aboute, on snawe. Sir Gawayn þe knyȝt con mete, He ne lutte hym noþyng lowe; Þat oþer sayde, "Now, sir swete, Of steuen mon may þe trowe."

"Gawayn," quoþ þat grene gome, "God þe mot loke! Iwysse þou art welcom, wyȝe, to my place,  And þou hatz tymed þi trauayl as truee mon schulde, And þou knowez þe couenauntez kest vus bytwene: At þis tyme twelmonyth þou toke þat þe falled, And I schulde at þis Nwe ȝere ȝeply þe quyte. And we ar in þis valay verayly oure one;  Here ar no renkes vs to rydde, rele as vus likez. Haf þy helme of þy hede, and haf here þy pay. Busk no more debate þen I þe bede þenne When þou wypped of my hede at a wap one." "Nay, bi God," quoþ Gawayn, "þat me gost lante, I schal gruch þe no grwe for grem þat fallez. Bot styȝtel þe vpon on strok, and I schal stonde stylle And warp þe no wernyng to worch as þe lykez, nowhare." He lened with þe nek, and lutte, And schewed þat schyre al bare, And lette as he noȝt dutte; For drede he wolde not dare.

THEN þe gome in þe grene grayþed hym swyþe, Gederez vp hys grymme tole Gawayn to smyte; With alle þe bur in his body he ber hit on lofte, Munt as maȝtyly as marre hym he wolde; Hade hit dryuen adoun as dreȝ as he atled, Þer hade ben ded of his dynt þat doȝty watz euer. Bot Gawayn on þat giserne glyfte hym bysyde, As hit com glydande adoun on glode hym to schende, And schranke a lytel with þe schulderes for þe scharp yrne. Þat oþer schalk wyth a schunt þe schene wythhaldez, And þenne repreued he þe prynce with mony prowde wordez: "Þou art not Gawayn," quoþ þe gome, "þat is so goud halden, Þat neuer arȝed for no here by hylle ne be vale, And now þou fles for ferde er þou fele harmez! Such cowardise of þat knyȝt cowþe I neuer here. Nawþer fyked I ne flaȝe, freke, quen þou myntest, Ne kest no kauelacion in kyngez hous Arthor.  My hede flaȝ to my fote, and ȝet flaȝ I neuer; And þou, er any harme hent, arȝez in hert; Wherfore þe better burne me burde be called þerfore." Quoþ Gawayn, "I schunt onez, And so wyl I no more; Bot þaȝ my hede falle on þe stonez, I con not hit restore.

"Bot busk, burne, bi þi fayth, and bryng me to þe poynt. Dele to me my destiné, and do hit out of honde,  For I schal stonde þe a strok, and start no more Til þyn ax haue me hitte: haf here my trawþe." "Haf at þe þenne!" quoþ þat oþer, and heuez hit alofte, And waytez as wroþely as he wode were. He myntez at hym maȝtyly, bot not þe mon rynez, Withhelde heterly his honde, er hit hurt myȝt. Gawayn grayþely hit bydez, and glent with no membre, Bot stode stylle as þe ston, oþer a stubbe auþer Þat raþeled is in roché grounde with rotez a hundreth. Þen muryly efte con he mele, þe mon in þe grene: "So, now þou hatz þi hert holle, hitte me bihous. Halde þe now þe hyȝe hode þat Arþur þe raȝt, And kepe þy kanel at þis kest, ȝif hit keuer may." Gawayn ful gryndelly with greme þenne sayde: "Wy! þresch on, þou þro mon, þou þretez to longe; I hope þat þi hert arȝe wyth þyn awen seluen." "For soþe," quoþ þat oþer freke, "so felly þou spekez, I wyl no lenger on lyte lette þin ernde riȝt nowe." Þenne tas he hym stryþe to stryke, And frounsez boþe lyppe and browe; No meruayle þaȝ hym myslyke Þat hoped of no rescowe.

He lyftes lyȝtly his lome, and let hit doun fayre With þe barbe of þe bitte bi þe bare nek; Þaȝ he homered heterly, hurt hym no more Bot snyrt hym on þat on syde, þat seuered þe hyde. Þe scharp schrank to þe flesche þurȝ þe schyre grece, Þat þe schene blod ouer his schulderes schot to þe erþe; And quen þe burne seȝ þe blode blenk on þe snawe, He sprit forth spenne-fote more þen a spere lenþe, Hent heterly his helme, and on his hed cast, Schot with his schulderez his fayre schelde vnder, Braydez out a bryȝt sworde, and bremely he spekez — Neuer syn þat he watz burne borne of his moder Watz he neuer in þis worlde wyȝe half so blyþe — "Blynne, burne, of þy bur, bede me no mo! I haf a stroke in þis sted withoute stryf hent, And if þow rechez me any mo, I redyly schal quyte, And ȝelde ȝederly aȝayn — and þerto ȝe tryst — and foo. Bot on stroke here me fallez — Þe couenaunt schop ryȝt so, Fermed in Arþurez hallez — And þerfore, hende, now hoo!"

The haþel heldet hym fro, and on his ax rested, Sette þe schaft vpon schore, and to þe scharp lened, And loked to þe leude þat on þe launde ȝede, How þat doȝty, dredles, deruely þer stondez Armed, ful aȝlez: in hert hit hym lykez. Þenn he melez muryly wyth a much steuen, And wyth a rynkande rurde he to þe renk sayde: "Bolde burne, on þis bent be not so gryndel. No mon here vnmanerly þe mysboden habbez, Ne kyd bot as couenaunde at kyngez kort schaped. I hyȝt þe a strok and þou hit hatz, halde þe wel payed; I relece þe of þe remnaunt of ryȝtes alle oþer. Iif I deliuer had bene, a boffet paraunter I couþe wroþeloker haf waret, to þe haf wroȝt anger. Fyrst I mansed þe muryly with a mynt one,  And roue þe wyth no rof-sore, with ryȝt I þe profered For þe forwarde þat we fest in þe fyrst nyȝt, And þou trystyly þe trawþe and trwly me haldez, Al þe gayne þow me gef, as god mon schulde. Þat oþer munt for þe morne, mon, I þe profered,  Þou kyssedes my clere wyf — þe cossez me raȝtez. For boþe two here I þe bede bot two bare myntes boute scaþe. Trwe mon trwe restore, Þenne þar mon drede no waþe.  At þe þrid þou fayled þore, And þerfor þat tappe ta þe.

"For hit is my wede þat þou werez, þat ilke wouen girdel, Myn owen wyf hit þe weued, I wot wel for soþe. Now know I wel þy cosses, and þy costes als,  And þe wowyng of my wyf: I wroȝt hit myseluen. I sende hir to asay þe, and sothly me þynkkez On þe fautlest freke þat euer on fote ȝede; As perle bi þe quite pese is of prys more, So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi oþer gay knyȝtez.  Bot here yow lakked a lyttel, sir, and lewté yow wonted; Bot þat watz for no wylyde werke, ne wowyng nauþer, Bot for ȝe lufed your lyf; þe lasse I yow blame." Þat oþer stif mon in study stod a gret whyle, So agreued for greme he gryed withinne; Alle þe blode of his brest blende in his face, Þat al he schrank for schome þat þe schalk talked. Þe forme worde vpon folde þat þe freke meled: "Corsed worth cowarddyse and couetyse boþe! In yow is vylany and vyse þat vertue disstryez." Þenne he kaȝt to þe knot, and þe kest lawsez, Brayde broþely þe belt to þe burne seluen: "Lo! þer þe falssyng, foule mot hit falle! For care of þy knokke cowardyse me taȝt To acorde me with couetyse, my kynde to forsake, Þat is larges and lewté þat longez to knyȝtez. Now am I fawty and falce, and ferde haf ben euer Of trecherye and vntrawþe: boþe bityde sorȝe and care! I biknowe yow, knyȝt, here stylle,  Al fawty is my fare; Letez me ouertake your wylle And efte I schal be ware."

Thenn loȝe þat oþer leude and luflyly sayde: "I halde hit hardily hole, þe harme þat I hade. Þou art confessed so clene, beknowen of þy mysses, And hatz þe penaunce apert of þe poynt of myn egge, I halde þe polysed of þat plyȝt, and pured as clene As þou hadez neuer forfeted syþen þou watz fyrst borne; And I gif þe, sir, þe gurdel þat is golde-hemmed,  For hit is grene as my goune. Sir Gawayn, ȝe maye Þenk vpon þis ilke þrepe, þer þou forth þryngez Among prynces of prys, and þis a pure token Of þe chaunce of þe grene chapel at cheualrous knyȝtez. And ȝe schal in þis Nwe ȝer aȝayn to my wonez,  And we schyn reuel þe remnaunt of þis ryche fest ful bene." Þer laþed hym fast þe lorde And sayde: "With my wyf, I wene, We schal yow wel acorde, Þat watz your enmy kene."

"Nay, for soþe," quoþ þe segge, and sesed hys helme, And hatz hit of hendely, and þe haþel þonkkez, "I haf soiorned sadly; sele yow bytyde, And he ȝelde hit yow ȝare þat ȝarkkez al menskes! And comaundez me to þat cortays, your comlych fere, Boþe þat on and þat oþer, myn honoured ladyez, Þat þus hor knyȝt wyth hor kest han koyntly bigyled. Bot hit is no ferly þaȝ a fole madde, And þurȝ wyles of wymmen be wonen to sorȝe,  For so watz Adam in erde with one bygyled, And Salamon with fele sere, and Samson eftsonez — Dalyda dalt hym hys wyrde — and Dauyth þerafter Watz blended with Barsabe, þat much bale þoled. Now þese were wrathed wyth her wyles, hit were a wynne huge  To luf hom wel, and leue hem not, a leude þat couþe. For þes wer forne þe freest, þat folȝed alle þe sele Exellently of alle þyse oþer, vnder heuenryche þat mused; And alle þay were biwyled  With wymmen þat þay vsed. Þaȝ I be now bigyled, Me þink me burde be excused.

"Bot your gordel", quoþ Gawayn, "God yow forȝelde! Þat wyl I welde wyth guod wylle, not for þe wynne golde,  Ne þe saynt, ne þe sylk, ne þe syde pendaundes, For wele ne for worchyp, ne for þe wlonk werkkez, Bot in syngne of my surfet I schal se hit ofte, When I ride in renoun, remorde to myseluen Þe faut and þe fayntyse of þe flesche crabbed,  How tender hit is to entyse teches of fylþe; And þus, quen pryde schal me pryk for prowes of armes, Þe loke to þis luf-lace schal leþe my hert. Bot on I wolde yow pray, displeses yow neuer: Syn ȝe be lorde of þe ȝonder londe þer I haf lent inne  Wyth yow wyth worschyp — þe wyȝe hit yow ȝelde Þat vphaldez þe heuen and on hyȝ sittez — How norne ȝe yowre ryȝt nome, and þenne no more?" "Þat schal I telle þe trwly," quoþ þat oþer þenne, "Bertilak de Hautdesert I hat in þis londe. Þurȝ myȝt of Morgne la Faye, þat in my hous lenges, And koyntyse of clergye, bi craftes wel lerned, Þe maystrés of Merlyn mony hatz taken — For ho hatz dalt drwry ful dere sumtyme With þat conable klerk, þat knowes alle your knyȝtez  at hame; Morgne þe goddes Þerfore hit is hir name: Weldez non so hyȝe hawtesse Þat ho ne con make ful tame —

"Ho wayned me vpon þis wyse to your wynne halle For to assay þe surquidré, ȝif hit soth were Þat rennes of þe grete renoun of þe Rounde Table; Ho wayned me þis wonder your wyttez to reue, For to haf greued Gaynour and gart hir to dyȝe  With glopnyng of þat ilke gome þat gostlych speked With his hede in his honde bifore þe hyȝe table. Þat is ho þat is at home, þe auncian lady; Ho is euen þyn aunt, Arþurez half-suster, Þe duches doȝter of Tyntagelle, þat dere Vter after  Hade Arþur vpon, þat aþel is nowþe. Þerfore I eþe þe, haþel, to com to þyn aunt, Make myry in my hous; my meny þe louies, And I wol þe as wel, wyȝe, bi my faythe, As any gome vnder God for þy grete trauþe." And he nikked hym naye, he nolde bi no wayes. Þay acolen and kyssen and kennen ayþer oþer To þe prynce of paradise, and parten ryȝt þere on coolde; Gawayn on blonk ful bene To þe knygez burȝ buskez bolde, And þe knyȝt in þe enker-grene Whiderwarde-so-euer he wolde.

Wylde wayez in þe worlde Wowen now rydez On Gryngolet, þat þe grace hade geten of his lyue; Ofte he herbered in house and ofte al þeroute, And mony aventure in vale, and venquyst ofte, Þat I ne tyȝt at þis tyme in tale to remene. Þe hurt watz hole þat he hade hent in his nek, And þe blykkande belt he bere þeraboute Abelef as a bauderyk bounden bi his syde, Loken vnder his lyfte arme, þe lace, with a knot, In tokenyng he watz tane in tech of a faute. And þus he commes to þe court, knyȝt al in sounde. Þer wakned wele in þat wone when wyst þe grete Þat gode Gawayn watz commen; gayn hit hym þoȝt. Þe kyng kyssez þe knyȝt, and þe whene alce, And syþen mony syker knyȝt þat soȝt hym to haylce, Of his fare þat hym frayned; and ferlyly he telles, Biknowez alle þe costes of care þat he hade, Þe chaunce of þe chapel, þe chere of þe knyȝt, Þe luf of þe ladi, þe lace at þe last. Þe nirt in þe nek he naked hem schewed Þat he laȝt for his vnleuté at þe leudes hondes for blame. He tened quen he schulde telle, He groned for gref and grame; Þe blod in his face con melle, When he hit schulde schewe, for schame.

"Lo! lorde," quoþ þe leude, and þe lace hondeled, "Þis is þe bende of þis blame I bere in my nek, Þis is þe laþe and þe losse þat I laȝt haue Of couardise and couetyse þat I haf caȝt þare; Þis is þe token of vntrawþe þat I am tan inne, And I mot nedez hit were wyle I may last; For mon may hyden his harme, bot vnhap ne may hit, For þer hit onez is tachched twynne wil hit neuer." Þe kyng comfortez þe knyȝt, and alle þe court als Laȝen loude þerat, and luflyly acorden Þat lordes and ladis þat longed to þe Table, Vche burne of þe broþerhede, a bauderyk schulde haue, A bende abelef hym aboute of a bryȝt grene, And þat, for sake of þat segge, in swete to were. For þat watz acorded þe renoun of þe Rounde Table, And he honoured þat hit hade euermore after, As hit is breued in þe best boke of romaunce. Þus in Arthurus day þis aunter bitidde, Þe Brutus bokez þerof beres wyttenesse; Syphen Brutus, þe bolde burne, boȝed hider fyrst, After þe segge and þe asaute watz sesed at Troye, iwysse, Mony aunterez here-biforne Haf fallen suche er þis. Now þat here þe croun of þorne, He bryng vus to his blysse! AMEN.