Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight / An Alliterative Romance-Poem (c. 1360 A.D.)

"Gode sir," quod Gawan, "wolde3 þou go myn ernde,

To þe he3 lorde of þis hous, herber to craue?"

"3e, Peter," quod þe porter, "& purely I trowe,¹

Þat 3e be, wy3e, welcum to won quyle yow lyke3."

Þen 3ede þat wy3e a3ayn awyþe,

& folke frely hym wyth, to fonge þe kny3t;

Þay let doun þe grete dra3t, & derely out 3eden,

& kneled doun on her knes vpon þe colde erþe,

To welcum þis ilk wy3, as worþy hom þo3t;

Þay 3olden hym þe brode 3ate, 3arked vp wyde,

& he hem raysed rekenly, & rod ouer þe brygge;

Sere segge3 hym sesed by sadel, quel² he ly3t,

& syþen stabeled his stede stif men in-no3e.

Kny3te3 & swyere3 comen doun þenne,

For to bryng þis burne³ wyth blys in-to halle;

Quen he hef vp his helme, þer hi3ed in-noghe

For to hent hit at his honde, þe hende to seruen,

His bronde & his blasoun boþe þay token.

Þen haylsed he ful hendly þo haþele3 vch one,

& mony proud mon þer presed, þat prynce to honour;

Alle hasped in his he3 wede to halle þay hym wonnen,

Þer fayre fyre vpon flet fersly brenned.

Þenne þe lorde of þe lede loute3 fro his chambre,

For to mete wyth menske þe mon on þe flor;

He sayde, "3e ar welcum to welde as yow lyke3,

Þat here is, al is yowre awen, to haue at yowre wylle

& welde."

"Graunt mercy," quod Gawayn,

"Þer Kryst hit yow for-3elde,"

As freke3 þat semed fayn,

Ayþer oþer in arme3 con felde.

Gawayn gly3t on þe gome þat godly hym gret,

& þu3t hit a bolde burne þat þe bur3 a3te,

A hoge haþel for þe none3, & of hyghe elde;¹

Brode bry3t wat3 his berde, & al beuer hwed,

Sturne stif on þe stryþþe on stal-worth schonke3,

Felle face as þe fyre, & fre of hys speche;

& wel hym semed for soþe, as þe segge þu3t,

To lede a lortschyp in lee of leude3 ful gode.

Þe lorde hym charred to a chambre, & chefly cumaunde3²

To delyuer hym a leude, hym lo3ly to serue;

& þere were boun at his bode burne3 in-no3e,

Þat bro3t hym to a bry3t boure, þer beddyng wat3 noble,

Of cortynes of clene sylk, wyth cler golde hemme3,

& couertore3 ful curious, with comlych pane3,

Of bry3t blaunnier a-boue enbrawded bisyde3,

Rudele3 rennande on rope3, red golde rynge3,

Tapyte3 ty3t to þe wo3e, of tuly & tars,

& vnder fete, on þe flet, of fol3ande sute.

Þer he wat3 dispoyled, wyth speche3 of myerþe,

Þe burn of his bruny, & of his bry3t wede3;

Ryche robes ful rad renkke3 hem³ bro3ten,

For to charge, & to chaunge, & chose of þe best.

Sone as he on hent, & happed þer-inne,

Þat sete on hym⁴ semly, wyth saylande skyrte3,

Þe ver by his uisage verayly hit semed

Wel ne3 to vche haþel alle on hwes,

Lowande & lufly, alle his lymme3 vnder,

Þat a comloker kny3t neuer Kryst made,

hem þo3t;

Wheþen in worlde he were,

Hit semed as he my3t

Be prynce with-outen pere,

In felde þer felle men fy3t.

A cheyer by-fore þe chemné, þer charcole brenned,

Wat3 grayþed for sir Gawan, grayþely with cloþe3,

Whyssynes vpon queldepoyntes, þa[t] koynt wer boþe;

& þenne a mere mantyle wat3 on þat mon cast,

Of a broun bleeaunt, enbrauded ful ryche,

& fayre furred wyth-inne with felle3 of þe best,

Alle of ermyn in erde, his hode of þe same;

& he sete in þat settel semlych ryche,

& achaufed hym chefly,¹ & þenne his cher mended.

Sone wat3 telded vp a tapit, on treste3 ful fayre,

Clad wyth a clene cloþe, þat cler quyt schewed,

Sanap, & salure, & syluer-in spone3;

Þe wy3e wesche at his wylle, & went to his mete

Segge3 hym serued semly in-no3e,

Wyth sere sewes & sete,² sesounde of þe best,

Double felde, as hit falle3, & fele kyn fische3;

Summe baken in bred, summe brad on þe glede3,

Summe soþen, summe in sewe, sauered with spyces,

& ay sawes³ so sle3e3, þat þe segge lyked.

Þe freke calde hit a fest ful frely & ofte,

Ful hendely, quen alle þe haþeles re-hayted hym at one3

as hende;

"Þis penaunce now 3e take,

& eft hit schal amende;"

Þat mon much merþe con make.

For wyn in his hed þat wende.

Þenne wat3 spyed & spured vpon spare wyse.

Bi preue poynte3 of þat prynce, put to hym-seluen,

Þat he be-knew cortaysly of þe court þat he were,

Þat aþel Arthure þe hende halde3 hym one,

Þat is þe ryche ryal kyng of þe rounde table;

& hit wat3 Wawen hym-self þat in þat won sytte3,

Comen to þat krystmasse, as case hym þen lymped.

When þe lorde hade lerned þat he þe leude hade,

Loude la3ed he þerat, so lef hit hym þo3t,

& alle þe men in þat mote maden much joye,

To apere in his presense prestly þat tyme,

Þat alle prys, & prowes, & pured þewes

Apendes to hys persoun, & praysed is euer,

By-fore alle men vpon molde, his mensk is þe most.

Vch segge ful softly sayde to his fere,

"Now schal we semlych se sle3te3 of þewe3,

& 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 hat3 geuen vus his grace godly for soþe,

Þat such a gest as Gawan graunte3 vus to haue,

When burne3 blyþe of his burþe schal sitte

& synge.

In menyng of manere3 mere,

Þis burne now schal vus bryng,

I hope þat may hym here,

Schal lerne of luf-talkyng."

Bi þat þe diner wat3 done, & þe dere vp,

Hit wat3 ne3 at þe niy3t ne3ed þe tyme;

Chaplayne3¹ to þe chapeles chosen þe gate,

Rungen ful rychely, ry3t as þay schulden,

To þe hersum euensong of þe hy3e tyde.

Þe lorde loutes þerto, & þe lady als,

In-to a comly closet coyntly ho entre3;

Gawan glyde3 ful gay, & gos þeder sone;

Þe lorde laches hym by þe lappe, & lede3 hym to sytte,

& couþly hym knowe3, & calle3 hym his nome,

& sayde he wat3 þe welcomest wy3e of þe worlde;

& he hym þonkked þroly, & ayþer halched oþer.

& seten soberly samen þe seruise-quyle;

Þenne lyst þe lady to loke on þe kny3t.

Þenne com ho of hir closet, with mony cler burde3,

Ho wat3 þe fayrest in felle, of flesche & of lyre,

& of compas, & colour, & costes of alle oþer,

& wener þen Wenore, as þe wy3e þo3t.

He ches þur3 þe chaunsel, to cheryche þat hende;

An oþer lady hir lad bi þe lyft honde,

Þat wat3 alder þen ho, an auncian hit semed,

& he3ly honowred with haþele3 aboute.

Bot yn-lyke on to loke þo ladyes were,

For if þe 3onge wat3 3ep, 3ol3e wat3 þat oþer;

Riche red on þat on rayled ay quere,

Rugh ronkled cheke3 þat oþer on rolled;

Kerchofes of þat on wyth mony cler perle3

Hir brest & hir bry3t þrote bare displayed,

Schon schyrer þen snawe, þat scheder² on hille3;

Þat oþer wyth a gorger wat3 gered ouer þe swyre,

Chymbled ouer hir blake chyn with mylk-quyte vayles,

Hir frount folden in sylk, enfoubled ay quere,

Toret & treieted with tryfle3 aboute,

Þat no3t wat3 bare of þat burde bot þe blake bro3es.

Þe tweyne y3en, & þe nase, þe naked lyppe3,

& þose were soure to se, & sellyly blered;

A mensk lady on molde mon may hir calle,

for gode;

Hir body wat3 schort & þik.

Hir buttoke3 bay & brode,

More lykker-wys on to lyk,

Wat3 þat scho hade on lode.

When Gawayn gly3t on þat gay, þat graciously loked,

Wyth leue la3t of þe lorde he went hem a3aynes;

Þe alder he haylses, heldande ful lowe,

Þe loueloker he lappe3 a lyttel in arme3,

He kysses hir comlyly, & kny3tly he mele3;

Þay kallen hym of a quoyntaunce, & he hit quyk aske3

To be her seruaunt sothly, if hem-self lyked.

Þay tan hym bytwene hem, wyth talkyng hym leden

To chambre, to chemné, & chefly þay asken

Spyce3, þat vn-sparely men speded hom to bryng,

& þe wynne-lych wyne þer-with vche tyme.

Þe lorde luflych aloft lepe3 ful ofte,

Mynned merthe to be made vpon mony syþe3.

Hent he3ly of his hode, & on a spere henged,

& wayned hom to wynne þe worchip þer-of,

Þat most myrþe my3t mene¹ þat crystenmas whyle;

"& i schal fonde, bi my fayth, to fylter wyth þe best,

Er me wont þe wede3, with help of my frende3."

Þus wyth la3ande lote3 þe lorde hit tayt² make3,

For to glade sir Gawayn with gomne3 in halle

þat ny3t;

Til þat hit wat3 tyme,

Þe kyng comaundet ly3t,

Sir Gawen his leue con nyme,

& to his bed hym di3t.

On þe morne, as vch mon myne3 þat tyme,

[Þ]at dry3tyn for oure destyné to de3e wat3 borne,

Wele waxe3 in vche a won in worlde, for his sake;

So did hit þere on þat day, þur3 dayntes mony;

Boþe at mes & at mele, messes ful quaynt

Derf men vpon dece drest of þe best.

Þe olde auncian wyf he3est ho sytte3;

Þe lorde lufly her by lent, as I trowe;

Gawan & þe gay burde to-geder þay seten,

Euen in-mydde3, as þe messe metely come;

& syþen þur3 al þe sale, as hem best semed,

Bi vche grome at his degre grayþely wat3 serued.

Þer wat3 mete, þer wat3 myrþe, þer wat3 much ioye,

Þat for to telle þerof hit me tene were,

& to poynte hit 3et I pyned me parauenture;

Bot 3et I wot þat Wawen & þe wale burde

Such comfort of her compaynye ca3ten to-geder,

Þur3 her dere dalyaunce of her derne worde3,

Wyth clene cortays carp, closed fro fylþe;

& hor play wat3 passande vche prynce gomen,

in vayres;

Trumpe3 & nakerys,

Much pypyng þer repayres,

Vche mon tented hys,

& þay two tented þayres.

Much dut wat3 þer dryuen þat day & þat oþer,

& þe þryd as þro þronge in þerafter;

Þe ioye of sayn Ione3 day wat3 gentyle to here,

& wat3 þe last of þe layk, leude3 þer þo3ten.

Þer wer gestes to go vpon þe gray morne,

For-þy wonderly þay woke, & þe wyn dronken,

Daunsed ful dre3ly wyth dere carole3;

At þe last, when hit wat3 late, þay lachen her leue,

Vchon to wende on his way, þat wat3 wy3e stronge.

Gawan gef hym god-day, þe god mon hym lachche3,

Ledes hym to his awen chambre, þ[e] chymné bysyde,

& þere he dra3e3 hym on-dry3e, & derely hym þonkke3,

Of þe wynne worschip &¹ he hym wayned hade,

As to honour his hous on þat hy3e tyde,

& enbelyse his bur3 with his bele chere.

"I-wysse sir, quyl I leue, me worþe3 þe better,

Þat Gawayn hat3 ben my gest, at Godde3 awen fest."

"Grant merci² sir," quod Gawayn, "in god fayth hit is yowre3,

Al þe honour is your awen, þe he3e kyng yow 3elde;

& I am wy3e at your wylle, to worch youre hest,

As I am halden þer-to, in hy3e & in lo3e,

bi ri3t."

Þe lorde fast can hym payne,

To holde lenger þe kny3t,

To hym answre3 Gawayn,

Bi non way þat he my3t.

Then frayned þe freke ful fayre at him-seluen,

Quat derne¹ dede had hym dryuen, at þat dere tyme,

So kenly fro þe kynge3 kourt to kayre al his one,

Er þe halidaye3 holly were halet out of toun?

"For soþe sir," quod þe segge, "3e sayn bot þe trawþe

A he3e ernde & a hasty me hade fro þo wone3,

For I am sumned my selfe to sech to a place,

I wot² in worlde wheder warde to wende, hit to fynde;

I nolde, bot if I hit negh my3t on nw3eres morne,

For alle þe londe in-wyth Logres, so me oure lorde help!

For-þy, sir, þis enquest I require yow here,

Þat 3e me telle with trawþe, if euer 3e tale herde

Of þe grene chapel, quere hit on grounde stonde3,

& of þe kny3t þat hit kepes, of colour of grene?

Þer wat3 stabled bi statut a steuen vus by-twene,

To mete þat mon at þat mere, 3if I my3t last;

& of þat ilk nw3ere hot neked now wonte3,

& I wolde loke on þat lede, if God me let wolde,

Gladloker, bi Godde3 sun, þen any god welde!

For-þi, I-wysse, bi 3owre wylle, wende me bi-houes,

Naf I now to busy bot bare þre daye3,

& me als fayn to falle feye as fayly of myyn ernde."

Þenne la3ande quod þe lorde, "now leng þe by-houes,

For I schal teche yow to þa[t] terme bi þe tyme3 ende,

Þe grene chapayle vpon grounde, greue yow no more;

Bot 3e schal be in yowre bed, burne, at þyn ese,

Quyle forth dayej, & ferk on pe fyrst of pe 3ere,

& cum to þat merk at mydmorn, to make quat yow like3

in spenne;

Dowelle3 whyle new 3eres daye,

& rys, & rayke3 þenne,

Mon schal yow sette in waye,

Hit is not two myle henne."

Þenne wat3 Gawan ful glad, & gomenly he la3ed,—

"Now I þonk yow þryuandely þur3 alle oþer þynge,

Now acheued is my chaunce, I schal at your wylle

Dowelle, & elle3 do quat 3e demen."

Þenne sesed hym þe syre, & set hym bysyde,

Let þe ladie3 be fette, to lyke hem þe better;

Þer wat3 seme solace by hem-self stille;

Þe lorde let for luf lote3 so myry,

As wy3 þat wolde of his wyte, ne wyst quat he my3t.

Þenne he carped to þe kny3t, criande loude,

"3e han demed to do þe dede þat I bidde;

Wyl 3e halde þis hes here at þys one3?"

"3e sir, for-soþe," sayd þe segge trwe,

"Whyl I byde in yowre bor3e, be bayn to 3ow[r]e hest."

"For 3e haf trauayled," quod þe tulk, "towen fro ferre,

& syþen waked me wyth, 3e arn not wel waryst,

Nauþer of sostnaunce ne of slepe, soþly I knowe;

3e schal lenge in your lofte, & ly3e in your ese,

To morn quyle þe messe-quyle, & to mete wende,

When 3e wyl, wyth my wyf, þat wyth yow schal sitte,

& comfort yow with compayny, til I to cort torne,

3e lende;

& I schal erly ryse,

On huntyng wyl I wende."

Gauayn grante3 alle þyse,

Hym heldande, as þe hende.

"3et firre," quod þe freke, "a forwarde we make;

Quat-so-euer I wynne in þe wod, hit worþe3 to youre3,

& quat chek so 3e acheue, chaunge me þer-forne;

Swete, swap we so, sware with trawþe,

Queþer, leude, so lymp lere oþer better."

"Bi God," quod Gawayn þe gode, "I grant þer-tylle,

& þat yow lyst forto layke, lef hit me þynkes.

"Who bringe3 vus þis beuerage, þis bargayn is maked:"

So sayde þe lorde of þat lede; þay la3ed vchone,

Þay dronken, & daylyeden, & dalten vnty3tel,¹

Þise lorde3 & ladye3, quyle þat hem lyked;

& syþen with frenkysch fare & fele fayre lote3

Þay stoden, & stemed, & stylly speken,

Kysten ful comlyly, & ka3ten her leue.

With mony leude ful ly3t, & lemande torches,

Vche burne to his bed wat3 bro3t at þe laste,

ful softe;

To bed 3et er þay 3ede,

Recorded couenaunte3 ofte;

Þe olde lorde of þat leude,²

Cowþe wel halde layk a-lofte.

Ful erly bifore þe day þe folk vp-rysen,

Gestes þat go wolde, hor grome3 þay calden,

& þay busken vp bilyue, blonkke3 to sadel,

Tyffen he[r] takles, trussen her males,

Richen hem þe rychest, to ryde alle arayde,

Lepen vp ly3tly, lachen her brydeles,

Vche wy3e on his way, þer hym wel lyked.

Þe leue lorde of þe londe wat3 not þe last,

A-rayed for þe rydyng, with renkke3 ful mony;

Ete a sop hastyly, when he hade herde masse,

With bugle to bent felde he buske3 by-lyue;

By þat þat any day-ly3t lemed vpon erþe,

He with his haþeles on hy3e horsses weren.

Þenne þise cacheres þat couþe, cowpled hor hounde3,

Vnclosed þe kenel dore, & calde hem þer-oute,

Blwe bygly in bugle3 þre bare mote;

Braches bayed þerfore, & breme noyse maked,

& þay chastysed, & charred, on chasyng þat went;

A hundreth of hunteres, as I haf herde telle,

of þe best;

To trystors vewters 3od,

Couples huntes of kest,

Þer ros for blaste3 gode,

Gret rurd in þat forest.

At þe fyrst quethe of þe quest quaked þe wylde;

Der drof in þe dale, doted for drede,

Hi3ed to þe hy3e, bot heterly þay were

Restayed with þe stablye, þat stoutly ascryed;

Þay let þe hertte3 haf þe gate, with þe hy3e hedes,

Þe breme bukke3 also, with hor brode paume3;

For þe fre lorde hade de-fende in fermysoun tyme,

Þat þer schulde no mon mene¹ to þe male dere.

Þe hinde3 were halden in, with hay & war,

Þe does dryuen with gret dyn to þe depe slade3;

Þer my3t mon se, as þay slypte, slentyng of arwes,

At vche [þat] wende vnder wande wapped a flone,

Þat bigly bote on þe broun, with ful brode hede3,

What! þay brayen, & bleden, bi bonkke3 þay de3en.

& ay rachches in a res radly hem fol3es,

Huntere3 wyth hy3e horne hasted hem after,

Wyth such a crakkande kry, as klyffes haden brusten;

What wylde so at-waped wy3es þat schotten,

Wat3 al to-raced & rent, at þe resayt.

Bi þay were tened at þe hy3e, & taysed to þe wattre3,

Þe lede3 were so lerned at þe lo3e trysteres,

& þe gre-hounde3 so grete, þat geten hem bylyue,

& hem to fylched, as fast as freke3 my3t loke,

þer ry3t.

Þe lorde for blys abloy

Ful oft con launce & ly3t,

& drof þat day wyth Ioy

Thus to þe derk ny3t.

Þus layke3 þis lorde by lynde wode3 eue3,

& G. þe god mon, in gay bed lyge3,

Lurkke3 quyl þe day-ly3t lemed on þe wowes,

Vnder couertour ful clere, cortyned aboute;

& as in slomeryng he slode, sle3ly he herde

A littel dyn at his dor, & derfly vpon;

& he heue3 vp his hed out of þe cloþes,

A corner of þe cortyn he ca3t vp a lyttel,

& wayte3 warly þider-warde, quat hit be my3t.

Hit wat3 þe ladi, loflyest to be-holde,

Þat dro3 þe dor after hir ful dernly¹ & stylle,

& bo3ed to-warde þe bed; & þe burne schamed.

& layde hym doun lystyly, & let as he slepte.

& ho stepped stilly. & stel to his bedde,

Kest vp þe cortyn, & creped with-inne,

& set hir ful softly on þe bed-syde,

& 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 my3t

Mene oþer amount, to meruayle hym þo3t;

Bot 3et he sayde in hym-self, "more semly hit were

To aspye wyth my spelle [in] space quat ho wolde."

þen he wakenede, & wroth, & to hir warde torned,

& vn-louked his y3e-lydde3, & let as hym wondered,

& sayned hym, as bi his sa3e þe sauer to worthe,

with hande;

Wyth chynne & cheke ful swete,

Boþe quit & red in-blande,

Ful lufly con ho lete,

Wyth lyppe3 smal la3ande.

"God moroun, sir Gawayn," sayde þat fayr lady,

"3e ar a sleper vn-sly3e, þat mon may slyde hider;

Now ar 3e tan astyt, bot true vus may schape,

I schal bynde yow in your bedde, þat be 3e trayst:"

Al la3ande þe lady lanced þo bourde3.

"Goud moroun g[aye],"¹ quod Gawayn þe blyþe,

"Me schal worþe at your wille, & þat me wel lyke3,

For I 3elde me 3ederly, & 3e3e after grace,

& þat is þe best, be my dome, for me by-houe3 nede;"

& þus he bourded a-3ayn with mony a blyþe la3ter.

"Bot wolde 3e, lady louely, þen leue me grante,

& de-prece your prysoun, & pray hym to ryse,

I wolde bo3e of þis bed, & busk me better,

I schulde keuer þe more comfort to karp yow wyth."

"Nay, for soþe, beau sir," sayd þat swete,

"3e schal not rise of your bedde, I rych yow better,

I schal happe yow here þat oþer half als,

& syþen karp wyth my kny3t þat I ka3t haue;

For I wene wel, Iwysse, sir Wawen 3e are,

Þat alle þe worlde worchipe3, quere-so 3e ride;

Your honour, your hendelayk is hendely praysed

With lorde3, wyth ladyes, with alle þat lyf bere.

& now 3e ar here, iwysse, & we bot oure one;

"My lorde & his lede3 ar on lenþe faren,

Oþer burne3 in her bedde, & my burde3 als,

Þe dor drawen, & dit with a derf haspe;

& syþen I haue in þis hous hym þat al lyke3,

I schal ware my whyle wel, quyl hit laste3,

with tale;

3e ar welcum to my cors,

Yowre awen won to wale,

Me be-houe3 of fyne force,

Your seruaunt be & schale."

"In god fayth," quod Gawayn, "gayn hit me þynkke3,

Þa3 I be not now he þat 3e of speken;

To reche to such reuerence as 3e reherce here

I am wy3e vn-worþy, I wot wel my-seluen;

Bi God, I were glad, & yow god þo3t,

At sa3e oþer at seruyce þat I sette my3t

To þe plesaunce of your prys, hit were a pure ioye."

"In god fayth, sir Gawayn," quod þe gay lady,

"Þe prys & þe prowes þat plese3 al oþer,

If I hit lakked, oþer set at ly3t, hit were littel daynté;

Bot hit ar ladyes in-no3e, þat leuer wer nowþe

Haf þe hende in hor holde, as I þe habbe here,

To daly witt derely your daynté worde3,

Keuer hem comfort, & colen her care3,

Þen much of þe garysourn oþer golde þat¹ þay hauen;

Bot I louue² þat ilk lorde þat þe lyfte halde3,

I haf hit holly in my honde þat al desyres,

þur3e grace."

Scho made hym so gret chere,

Þat wat3 so fayr of face,

Þe kny3t with speches skere,

A[n]swared to vche a cace.

"Madame," quod þe myry mon, "Mary yow 3elde,

For I haf founden, in god fayth, yowre fraunchis nobele,

& oþer ful much of oþer folk fongen hor dede3;

Bot þe daynté þat þay delen for my disert nysen,

Hit is þe worchyp of your-self, þat no3t hot wel conne3."

"Bi Mary," quod þe menskful, "me þynk hit anoþer;

For were I worth al þe wone of wymmen alyue,

& al þe wele of þe worlde were in my honde,

& I schulde chepen & chose, to cheue me a lorde,

For þe costes þat I haf knowen vpun þe kny3t here,

Of bewté, & debonerté, & blyþe semblaunt,

& þat I haf er herkkened, & halde hit here trwee,

Þer schulde no freke vpon folde bifore yow be chosen."

"I-wysse, worþy," quod þe wy3e, "3e haf waled wel better,

Bot I am proude of þe prys þat 3e put on me,

& soberly your seruaunt my souerayn I holde yow,

& yowre kny3t I be-com, & Kryst yow for-3elde."

Þus þay meled of much-quat, til myd-morn paste,

& ay þe lady let lyk, a¹ hym loued mych;

Þe freke ferde with defence, & feted ful fayre.

Þa3 I were burde bry3test, þe burde in mynde hade,

Þe lasse luf in his lode, for lur þat he so3t,

boute hone;

Þe dunte þat schulde² hym deue,

& nede3 hit most be done;

Þe lady þenn spek of leue.

He granted hir ful sone.

Þenne ho gef hym god-day, & wyth a glent la3ed.

& as ho stod, ho stonyed hym wyth ful stor worde3:

"Now he þat spede3 vche spech, þis disport 3elde yow!

Bot þat 3e be Gawan, hit got3 in mynde."

"Quer-fore?" quod þe freke, & freschly he aske3,

Ferde lest he hade fayled in fourme of his castes;

Bot þe burde hym blessed, & bi þis skyl sayde,

"So god as Gawayn gaynly is halden,

& cortaysye is closed so clene in hym-seluen,

Couth not ly3tly haf lenged so long wyth a lady,

Bot he had craued a cosse, bi his courtaysye,

Bi sum towch of summe tryfle, at sum tale3 ende."

Þen quod Wowen, "I-wysse, worþe as yow lyke3,

I schal kysse at your comaundement, as a kny3t falle3,

& fire¹ lest he displese yow, so² plede hit no more."

Ho comes nerre with þat, & cache3 hym in arme3,

Loute3 luflych adoun, & þe leude kysse3;

Þay comly bykennen to Kryst ayþer oþer;

Ho dos hir forth at þe dore, with-outen dyn more.

& he ryches hym to ryse, & rapes hym sone,

Clepes to his chamberlayn, choses his wede,

Bo3e3 forth, quen he wat3 boun, blyþely to masse,

& þenne he meued to his mete, þat menskly hym keped,

& made myry al day til þe mone rysed,

with game;

With³ neuer freke fayrer fonge,

Bitwene two so dyngne dame,

Þe alder & þe 3onge,

Much solace set þay same.

And ay þe lorde of þe londe is lent on his gamne3,

To hunt in holte3 & heþe, at hynde3 barayne,

Such a sowme he þer slowe bi þat þe sunne heldet,

Of dos & of oþer dere, to deme were wonder.

Þenne fersly þay flokked in folk at þe laste,

& quykly of þe quelled dere a querré þay maked;

Þe best bo3ed þerto, with burne3 in-noghe,

Gedered þe grattest of gres þat þer were,

& didden hem derely vndo, as þe dede aske3;

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, & þe schyre knitten;

Syþen rytte þay þe foure lymmes, & rent of þe hyde,

Þen brek þay þe bale, þe bale3 out token,

Lystily forlancyng, & bere of þe knot;

Þay gryped to þe gargulun, & grayþely departed

Þe wesaunt fro þe wynt-hole, & walt out þe gutte3;

Þen scher þay out þe schuldere3 with her scharp knyue3,

Haled hem by a lyttel hole, to haue hole sydes;

Siþen britned þay þe brest, & brayden hit in twynne,

& eft at þe gargulun bigyne3 on þenne,

Ryue3 hit vp radly, ry3t to þe by3t,

Voyde3 out þe a-vanters, & verayly þerafter

Alle þe ryme3 by þe rybbe3 radly þay lance;

So ryde þay of by resoun bi þe rygge bone3,

Euenden to þe haunche, þat henged alle samen,

& heuen hit vp al hole, & hwen hit of þere,

& þat þayneme for þe noumbles, bi nome as I trowe,

bi kynde;

Bi þe by3t al of þe þy3es,

Þe lappe3 þay lance bi-hynde,

To hewe hit in two þay hy3es,

Bi þe bak-bon to vnbynde.

Boþe þe hede & þe hals þay hwen of þenne,

& syþen sunder þay þe syde3 swyft fro þe chyne,

& þe corbeles fee þay kest in a greue;¹

Þenn þurled þay ayþer þik side þur3, bi þe rybbe,

& henged þenne a[y]þer bi ho3es of þe fourche3,

Vche freke for his fee, as falle3 forto haue.

Vpon a felle of þe fayre best, fede þay þayr houndes,

Wyth þe lyuer & þe ly3te3, þe leþer of þe paunche3,

& bred baþed in blod, blende þer amonge3;

Baldely þay blw prys, bayed þayr rachche3,

Syþen fonge þay her flesche folden to home,

Strakande ful stoutly mony stif mote3.

Bi þat þe dayly3t wat3 done, þe douthe wat3 al wonen

In-to þe comly castel, þer þe kny3t bide3

ful stille;

Wyth blys & bry3t fyr bette,

Þe lord is comen þer-tylle,

When Gawayn wyth hym mette,

Þer wat3 bot wele at wylle.

Thenne comaunded þe lorde in þat sale to samen alle þe meny,

Boþe þe ladyes on loghe to ly3t with her burdes,

Bi-fore alle þe folk on þe flette, freke3 he bedde3

Verayly his venysoun to fech hym byforne;

& al godly in gomen Gaway[n] he called,

Teche3 hym to þe tayles of ful tayt bestes,

Schewe3 hym þe schyree grece schorne vpon rybbes.

"How paye3 yow þis play? haf I prys wonnen?

Haue I þryuandely þonk þur3 my craft serued?"

"3e I-wysse," quod þat oþer wy3e, "here is wayth fayrest

Þat I se3 þis seuen 3ere in sesoun of wynter."

"& al I gif yow, Gawayn," quod þe gome þenne,

"For by a-corde of couenaunt 3e craue hit as your awen."

"Þis is soth," quod þe segge, "I say yow þatilke,

&¹ I haf worthyly þis wone3 wyth-inne,

I-wysse with as god wylle hit worþe3 to 3oure3."

He hasppe3 his fayre hals his arme3 wyth-inne,

& kysses hym as comlyly as he² couþe awyse:

"Tas yow þere my cheuicaunce, I cheued no more,

I wowche hit saf fynly, þa3 feler hit were."

"Hit is god," quod þe god mon, "grant mercy þerfore,

Hit may be such, hit is þe better, &¹ 3e me breue wolde

Where 3e wan þis ilk wele, biwytte of hor³ seluen?"

"Þat wat3 not forward," quod he, "frayst me no more,

For 3e haftan þat yow tyde3, trawe3e non oþer

3e mowe."

Þay la3ed, & made hem blyþe,

Wyth lote3 þat were to lowe,

To soper þay 3ede asswyþe,

Wyth dayntes nwe in-nowe.

And syþen by þe chymné in chamber þay seten.

Wy3e3 þe walle wyn we3ed to hem oft,

& efte in her bourdyng þay bayþen in þe morn,

To fylle þe same forwarde3 þat þay by-fore maden,

Þat chaunce so bytyde3 hor cheuysaunce to chaunge,

What nwe3 so þay nome, at na3t quen þay metten

Þay acorded of þe couenaunte3 byfore þe court alle;

Þe beuerage wat3 bro3t forth in bourde at þat tyme;

Þenne þay louelych le3ten leue at þe last,

Vche burne to his bedde busked bylyue.

Bi þat þe coke hade crowe3¹ & cakled bot þryse,

Þe lorde wat3 lopen of his bedde, [&] þe leude3 vch one,

So þat þe mete & þe masse wat3 metely delyuered;

Þe douthe dressed to þe wod, er any day sprenged,

to chace;

He3 with hunte & horne3,

Þur3 playne3 þay passe in space,

Vn-coupled among þo þorne3,

Rache3 þat ran on race.

Sone þay calle of a quest in aker syde,

Þe hunt re-hayted þe hounde3, þat hit fyrst mynged,

Wylde worde3 hym warp wyth a wrast noyce;

Þe hownde3 þat hit herde, hastid þider swyþe,

& fellen as fast to þe fuyt, fourty at ones;

Þenne such a glauerande glam of gedered rachche3

Ros, þat þe rochere3 rungen aboute;

Huntere3 hem hardened with horne & wyth muthe.

Þen al in a semblé sweyed to-geder,

Bitwene a flosche in þat fryth, & a foo cragge;

In a knot, bi a clyffe, at þe kerre syde,

Þer as þe rogh rocher vn-rydely wat3 fallen,

[Þay] ferden to þe fyndyng, & freke3 hem after;

Þay vmbe-kesten þe knarre & þe knot boþe.

Wy3e3, whyl þay wysten wel wyt inne hem hit were,

Þe best þat þer breued wat3 wyth þe blod hounde3.

Þenne þay beten on þe buske3, & bede hym vp ryse,

& he vnsoundyly out so3t segge3 ouer-þwert,

On þe sellokest swyn swenged out þere,

Long sythen for¹ þe sounder þat wi3t for-olde,

For he wat3 b[este &] bor alþer grattest,

[And eue]re quen he gronyed, þenne greued mony,

For [þre a]t þe fyrst þrast he þry3t to þe erþe,

& [sped hym] forth good sped, boute spyt more,

[Ande þay] halowed hyghe ful hy3e & hay! hay! cryed

Haden horne3 to mouþe heterly rechated;

Mony wat3 þe myry mouthe of men & of hounde3,

Þat buskke3 after þis bor, with bost & wyth noyse,

To quelle;

Ful oft he byde3 þe baye,

& mayme3 þe mute Inn-melle,

He hurte3 of þe hounde3, & þay

Ful 3omerly 3aule & 3elle.

Schalke3 to schote at hym schowen to þenne,

Haled to hym of her arewe3, hitten hym oft;

Bot þe poynte3 payred at þe pyth þat py3t in his schelde3,

& þe barbe3 of his browe bite non wolde,

Þa3 þe schauen schaft schyndered in pece3,

Þe hede hypped a3ayn, were-so-euer hit hitte;

Bot quon þe dynte3 hym dered of her dry3e stroke3,

Þen, brayn-wod for bate, on burne3 he rase3,

Hurte3 hem ful heterly þer he forth hy3e3,

& mony ar3ed þerat, & on-lyte dro3en.

Bot þe lorde on a ly3t horce launces hym after,

As burne bolde vpon bent his bugle he blowe3,

He rechated, & r[ode]¹ þur3 rone3 ful þyk,

Suande þis wy[ld]e 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 gere3 ful ryche

of hewe;

Þe lady no3t for3ate,

Com to hym to salue,

Ful erly ho wat3 hym ate,

His mode forto remwe.

Ho commes to þe cortyn, & at þe kny3t totes,

Sir Wawen her welcumed worþy on fyrst,

& ho hym 3elde3 a3ayn, ful 3erne of hir worde3,

Sette3 hir sof[t]ly by his syde, & swyþely ho la3e3,

& wyth a luflych loke ho layde¹ hym þyse worde3:

"Sir, 3if 3e be Wawen, wonder me þynkke3,

Wy3e þat is so wel wrast alway to god,

& conne3 not of compaynye þe coste3 vnder-take,

& if mon kennes yow hom to knowe, 3e kest hom of your mynde;

Þou hat3 for-3eten 3ederly þat 3isterday I ta3tte

alder-truest token of talk þat I cowþe."

"What is þat?" quod þe wyghe, "I-wysse I wot neuer,

If hit be sothe þat 3e breue, þe blame is myn awen."

"3et I kende yow of kyssyng," quod þe clere þenne,

"Quere-so countenaunce is couþe, quikly to clayme,

Þat bicumes vche a kny3t, þat cortaysy vses."

"Do way," quod þat derf mon, "my dere, þat speche,

For þat durst I not do, lest I denayed were,

If I were werned, I were wrang I-wysse, 3if I profered."

"Ma fay," quod þe mere wyf, "3e may not be werned,

3e ar stif in-noghe to constrayne wyth strenkþe, 3if yow lyke3,

3if any were so vilanous þat yow denaye² wolde."

"3e, be God," quod Gawayn, "good is your speche,

Bot þrete is vn-þryuande in þede þer I lende,

& vche gift þat is geuen not with goud wylle;

I am at your comaundement, to kysse quen yow lyke3,

3e may lach quen yow lyst, & leue quen yow þynkke3,

in space."

Þe lady loute3 a-doun,

& comlyly kysses his face,

Much speche þay þer expoun,

Of druryes greme & grace.

"I woled¹ wyt at yow, wy3e," þat worþy þer sayde,

"& yow wrathed not þer-wyth, what were þe skylle,

Þat so 3ong & so 3epe, as 3e [ar] at þis tyme,

So cortayse, so kny3tyly, as 3e ar knowen oute,

& of alle cheualry to chose, þe chef þyng a-losed,

Is² þe lel layk of luf, þe lettrure of armes;

F[or] to telle of þis tenelyng of þis trwe kny3te3,

Hit is þe tytelet, token, & tyxt of her werkke3,

How le[des] for her lele luf hor lyue3 han auntered,

Endured for her drury dulful stounde3,

& after wenged with her walour & voyded her care,

& bro3t blysse in-to boure, with bountees hor awen.

& 3e ar kny3t com-lokest kyd of your elde,

Your worde & your worchip walke3 ay quere,

& I haf seten by your-self here sere twyes,

3et herde I neuer of your hed helde no worde3

Þat euer longed to luf, lasse ne more;

& 3e, þat ar so cortays & coynt of your hetes,

Oghe to a 3onke þynk 3ern to schewe,

& teche sum tokene3 of trweluf craftes.

Why ar 3e lewed, þat alle þe los welde3,

Oþer elles 3e demen me to dille, your dalyaunce to herken?

for schame!

I com hider sengel, & sitte,

To lerne at yow sum game,

Dos, teche3 me of your wytte,

Whil my lorde is fro hame."

"In goud fayþe," quod Gawayn, "God yow for3elde,

Gret is þe gode gle, & gomen to me huge,

Þat so worþy as 3e wolde wynne hidere,

& pyne yow with so pouer a mon, as play wyth your kny3t,

With any skynne3 countenaunce, hit keuere3 me ese;

Bot to take þe toruayle¹ to my-self, to trwluf expoun,

& towche þe teme3 of tyxt, & tale3 of arme3,

To yow þat, I wot wel, welde3 more sly3t

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 fole fele-folde, my fre, by my trawþe.

I wolde yowre wylnyng worche at my my3t,

As I am hy3ly bihalden, & euer-more wylle

Be seruaunt to your-seluen, so saue me dry3tyn!"

Þus hym frayned þat fre, & fondet hym ofte,

Forto haf wonnen hym to wo3e, what-so scho þo3t elle3,

Bot he de fended hym so fayr, þat no faut semed,

Ne non euel on nawþer halue, nawþer þay wysten,

bot blysse;

Þay la3ed & layked longe,

At þe last scho con hym kysse,

Hir leue fayre con scho fonge,

& went hir waye Iwysse.

Then ruþes hym þe renk, & ryses to þe masse,

& siþen hor diner wat3 dy3t & derely serued.

Þe lede with þe ladye3 layked alle day,

Bot þe lorde ouer þe londe3 launced ful ofte,

Swe3 his vncely swyn, þat swynge3 bi þe bonkke3,

& bote þe best of his brache3 þe bakke3 in sunder;

Þer he bode in his bay, tel¹ bawe-men hit breken,

& made² hym, maw-gref his bed, forto mwe vtter;

So felle flone3 per flete, when þe folk gedered;

Bot 3et þe styffest to start bi stounde3 he made,

Til at þe last he wat3 so mat, he my3t no more renne,

Bot in þe hast þat he my3t, he to a hole wynne3,

Of a rasse, bi a rokk, þer renne3 þe boerne,

He gete þe bonk at his bak, bigyne3 to scrape,

Þe froþe femed³ at his mouth vnfayre bi þe wyke3,

Whette3 his whyte tusche3; with hym þen irked

Alle þe burne3 so bolde, þat hym by stoden,

To nye hym on-ferum, bot ne3e hym non durst

for woþe;

He hade hurt so mony byforne,

Þat al þu3t⁴ þenne ful loþe,

Be more wyth his tusche3 torne,

Þat breme wat3 [&] brayn-wod bothe.

Til þe kny3t com hym-self, kachande his blonk,

Sy3 hym byde at þe bay, his burne3 bysyde,

He ly3tes luflych¹ adoun, leue3 his corsour,

Brayde3 out a bry3t bront, & bigly forth stryde3,

Founde3 fast þur3 þe forth, þer þe felle byde3,

Þe wylde wat3 war of þe wy3e with weppen in honde,

Hef hy3ly þe here, so hetterly he fnast,

Þat fele ferde for þe freke3,² lest felle hym þe worre;

Þe swyn sette3 hym out on þe segge euen,

Þat þe burne & þe bor were boþe vpon hepe3,

In þe wy3t-est of þe water, þe worre hade þat oþer;

For þe mon merkke3 hym wel, as þay mette fyrst,

Set sadly þe scharp in þe slot euen,

Hit hym vp to þe hult, þat þe hert schyndered,

& he 3arrande hym 3elde, & 3edoun³ þe water,

ful tyt;

A hundreth hounde3 hym hent,

Þat bremely con hym bite,

Burne3 him bro3t to bent,

& dogge3 to dethe endite.

There wat3 blawyng of prys in mony breme home,

He3e halowing on hi3e, with haþele3 þat my3t;

Brachetes bayed þat best, as bidden þe maystere3,

Of þat chargeaunt chace þat were chef huntes.

Þenne a wy3e þat wat3 wys vpon wod crafte3,

To vnlace þis bor lufly bigynne3;

Fyrst he hewes of his hed, & on hi3e sette3,

& syþen rende3 him al roghe bi þe rygge after,

Brayde3 out þe boweles, brenne3 hom on glede,

With bred blent þer-with his braches rewarde3;

Syþen he britne3 out þe brawen in bry3t brode [s]chelde3,

& hat3 out þe hastlette3, as hi3tly biseme3;

& 3et hem halche3 al hole þe halue3 to-geder,

& syþen on a stif stange stoutly hem henges.

Now with þis ilk swyn þay swengen to home;

Þe bores hed wat3 borne bifore þe burnes seluen,

Þat him for-ferde in þe forþe, þur3 forse of his honde,

so stronge;

Til he se3 sir Gawayne,

In halle hym þo3t ful longe,

He calde, & he com gayn,

His fee3 þer for to fonge.

Þe lorde ful lowde with lote, & la3ed myry,

When he se3e sir G: with solace he speke3;

Þe goude ladye3 were geten, & gedered þe meyny,

He schewe3 hem þe schelde3, & schapes hem þe tale,

Of þe largesse, & þe lenþe, þe liþerne3 alse,

Of þe were of þe wylde swyn, in wod þer he fled.

Þat oþer kny3t ful comly comended his dede3,

& 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,

& let lodly þerat þe lorde forte here:

"Now Gawayn," quod þe god mon, "þis gomen is your awen,

Bi fyn for-warde & faste, faythely 3e knowe."

"Hit is sothe," quod þe segge, "& as siker trwe;

Alle my get I schal yow gif agayn, bi my trawþe."

He [hent] þe haþel aboute þe halse, & hendely hym kysses,

& efter-sones of þe same he serued hym þere.

"Now ar we euen," quod þe haþel, "in þis euen-tide,

Of alle þe couenauntes þat we knyt, syþen I com hider,

bi lawe;"

Þe lorde sayde, "bi saynt Gile,

3e ar þe best þat I knowe,

3e ben ryche in a whyle,

Such chaffer & 3e drowe."

Þenne þay teldet table3 [on] trestes alofte,

Kesten cloþe3 vpon, clere ly3t þenne

Wakned bi wo3e3, waxen torches

Segge3 sette, & serued in sale al aboute;

Much glam & gle glent vp þer-inne,

Aboute þe fyre vpon flet, & on fele wyse,

At þe soper & after, mony aþel songe3,

As coundutes of kryst-masse, & carole3 newe,

With alle þe manerly merþe þat mon may of telle.

& euer oure luflych kny3t þe lady bi-syde;

Such semblaunt to þat segge semly ho made,

Wyth stille stollen countenaunce, þat stalworth to plese,

Þat al for-wondered wat3 þe wy3e, & wroth with hym-seluen,

Bot he nolde not for his nurture nurne hir a-3ayne3,

Bot dalt with hir al in daynte, how-se-euer þe dede turned

to wrast;

Quen þay hade played in halle,

As longe as hor wylle hom last,

To chambre he¹ con hym calle,

& to þe chem-ne þay past.

Ande þer þay dronken, & dalten, & demed eft nwe,

To norne on þe same note, on nwe3ere3 euen;

Bot þe kny3t craued leue, to kayre on þe morn,

For hit wat3 ne3 at þe terme, þat he to¹ schulde.

Þe lorde hym letted of þat, to lenge hym resteyed,

& sayde, "as I am trwe segge, I siker my trawþe,

Þou schal cheue to þe grene chapel, þy charres to make,

Leude, on nw3ere3 ly3t, longe bifore pryme:

For-þy þow lye in þy loft, & lach þyn ese,

& I schal hunt in þis holt, & halde þe towche3,

Chaunge wyth þe cheuisaunce, bi þat I charre hider;

For I haf fraysted þe twys, & faythful I fynde þe,

Now þrid tyme þrowe best þenk on þe morne,

Make we mery quyl we may, & mynne vpon Ioye,

For þe lur may mon lach, when so mon lyke3."

Þis wat3 grayþely graunted, & Gawayn is lenged,

Bliþe bro3t wat3 hym drynk, & þay to bedde 3eden,

with li3t;

Sir G: lis & slepes,

Ful stille & softe al ni3t;

Þe lorde þat his crafte3 kepes,

Ful erly he wat3 di3t.

After messe a morsel¹ he & his men token,

Miry wat3 þe mornyng, his mounture he askes;

Alle þe haþeles þat on horse schulde helden hym after,

Were boun busked on hor blonkke3, bi-fore² þe halle 3ate3;

Ferly fayre wat3 þe folde, for þe forst clenged,

In rede rudede vpon rak rises þe sunne,

& ful clere coste3³ 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,

Trayle3 ofte a trayteres⁴, bi traunt of her wyles;

A kenet kryes þerof, þe hunt on hym calles,

His fela3es fallen hym to, þat fnasted ful þike,

Runnen forth in a rabel, in his ry3t fare;

& he fyske3 hem by-fore, þay founden hym sone,

& quen þay seghe hym with sy3t, þay sued hym fast,

Wre3ande h[ym] ful [w]eterly with a wroth noyse;

& he trantes & tornayee3 þur3 mony tene greue;

Hamloune3, & herkene3, bi hegge3 ful ofte;

At þe last bi a littel dich he lepe3 ouer a spenné,

Stele3 out ful stilly bi a strothe rande,

Went haf wylt of þe wode, with wyle3 fro þe houndes,

Þenne wat3 he went, er he wyst, to⁵ a wale tryster,

Þer þre þro at a þrich þrat hym at ones,

al graye;

He blenched a3ayn bilyue,

& stifly start onstray,

With alle þe wo on lyue,

To þe wod he went away.

Thenne wat3 hit lif vpon list to lyþen þe hounde3,

When alle þe mute hade hym met, menged to-geder,

Suche a sor3e at þat sy3t þay sette on his hede,

As alle þe clamberande clyffes hade clatered on hepes;

Here he wat3 halawed, when haþele3 hym metten,

Loude he wat3 3ayned, with 3arande speche;

Þer he wat3 þreted, & ofte þef called,

& ay þe titleres at his tayl, þat tary he ne my3t;

Ofte he wat3 runnen at, when he out rayked,

& ofte reled in a3ayn, so reniarde wat3 wylé.

& 3e he lad hem bi lag, mon, þe lorde & his meyny;

On þis maner bi þe mountes, quyle myd, ouer, vnder,

Whyle þe hende kny3t at home holsumly slepe3,

With-inne þe comly cortynes, on þe colde morne.

Bot þe lady for luf let not to slepe,

Ne þe purpose to payre, þat py3t in hir hert,

Bot ros hir vp radly, rayked hir þeder,

In a mery mantyle, mete to þe erþe,

Þat wat3 furred ful fyne with felle3, wel pured,

No hwe3 goud on hir hede, bot þe ha3er stones

Trased aboute hir tressour, be twenty in clusteres;

Hir þryuen face & hir þrote þrowen al naked,

Hir brest bare bifore, & bihinde eke.

Ho come3 with-inne þe chambre dore, & closes hit hir after,

Wayne3¹ vp a wyndow, & on þe wy3e calle3,

& radly þus re-hayted hym, with hir riche worde3,

with² chere;

"A! mon, how may þou slepe,

Þis morning is so clere?"

He wat3 in drowping depe,

Bot þenne he con hir here.

In dre3 droupyng of dreme draueled þat noble,

As mon þat wat3 in mornyng of mony þro þo3tes,

How þat destiné schulde þat day [dy3t] his wyrde,

At þe grene chapel, when he þe gome metes,

& bi-houes his buffet abide, with-oute debate more;

Bot quen þat comly he keuered his wyttes,

Swenges out of þe sweuenes, & sware3 with hast.

Þe lady luflych com la3ande swete,

Felle ouer his fayre face, & fetly him kyssed;

He welcume3 hir worþily, with a wale chere;

He se3 hir so glorious, & gayly atyred,

So fautles of hir fetures, & of so fyne hewes,

Wi3t wallande Ioye warmed his hert;

With smoþe smylyng & smolt þay smeten in-to merþe,

Þat al wat3 blis & bonchef, þat breke hem bi-twene,

& wynne,

Þay lanced wordes gode,

Much wele þen wat3 þer-inne,

Gret perile bi-twene hem stod,

Nif mare of hir kny3t mynne.

For þat prynce of pris de-presed hym so þikke.

Nurned hym so ne3e þe þred, þat nede hym bi-houed,

Oþer lach þer hir luf, oþer lodly re-fuse;

He cared for his cortaysye, lest craþayn he were,

& more for his meschef, 3if he schulde make synne,

& be traytor to þat tolke, þat þat telde a3t.

"God schylde," quod þe schalk, "þat schal not be-falle!"

With luf-la3yng a lyt, he layd hym by-syde

Alle þe speche3 of specialté þat sprange of her mouthe.

Quod þat burde to þe burne, "blame 3e disserue,

3if 3e luf not þat lyf þat 3e lye nexte,

Bifore alle þe wy3e3 in þe worlde, wounded in hert,

Bot if 3e haf a lemman, a leuer, þat yow lyke3 better,

& folden fayth to þat fre, festned so harde,

Þat yow lausen ne lyst, & þat I leue nouþe;

And þat 3e telle me þat, now trwly I pray yow,

For alle þe lufe3 vpon lyue, layne not þe soþe,

for gile."

Þe kny3t sayde, "be sayn Ion,"

& smeþely con he smyle,

"In fayth I welde ri3t non,

Ne non wil welde þe quile."

"Þat is a worde," quod þat wy3t, "þat worst is of alle,

Bot I am swared for soþe, þat sore me þinkke3;

Kysse me now coraly, & I schal cach heþen,

I may bot mourne vpon molde, as may þat much louyes."

Sykande ho swe3e doun, & semly hym kyssed,

& siþen ho seueres hym fro, & says as ho stondes,

"Now, dere, at þis de-partyng, do me þis ese,

Gif me sumquat of þy gifte, þi gloue if¹ hit were,

Þat I may mynne on þe mon, my mournyng to lassen."

"Now Iwysse," quod þat wy3e, "I wolde I hade here

Þe leuest þing for þy luf, þat I in londe welde,

For 3e haf deserued, forsoþe, sellyly ofte

More rewarde bi resoun, þen I reche my3t,

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 Gawayne3 gifte3,

& I am here [on] an erande in erde3 vncouþe,

& haue no men wyth no male3, with menskful þinge3;

Þat mislyke3 me, ladé, for luf at þis tyme,²

Iche tolke mon do as he is tan, tas to non ille,

ne pine."

"Nay, hende of hy3e honours,"

Quod þat lufsum vnder lyne,

"Þa3 I hade o3t³ of youre3,

3et schulde 3e haue of myne."

Ho ra3t hym a riche rynk¹ of red golde werke3,

Wyth a starande ston, stondande alofte,

Þat bere blusschande beme3 as þe bry3t sunne;

Wyt 3e wel, hit wat3 worth wele ful hoge.

Bot þe renk hit renayed, & redyly he sayde,

"I wil no gifte3 for gode, my gay, at þis tyme;

I haf none yow to norne, ne no3t wyl I take."

Ho bede hit hym ful bysily, & he hir bode wernes,

& swere swyftel[y] his sothe, þat he hit sese nolde;

& ho sore þat he forsoke, & sayde þer-after,

"If 3e renay my rynk, to ryche for hit seme3,

3e wolde not so hy3ly halden be to me,

I schal gif yow my girdel, þat gaynes yow lasse."

Ho la3t a lace ly3tly, þat² leke vmbe hir syde3,

Knit vpon hir kyrtel, vnder þe clere mantyle,

Gered hit wat3 with grene sylke, & with golde schaped,

No3t bot arounde brayden, beten with fyngre3;

& þat ho bede to þe burne, & blyþely bi-so3t

Þa3 hit vn-worþi were, þat he hit take wolde.

& 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.

"& þerfore, I pray yow, displese yow no3t,

& lette3 be your bisinesse, for I bayþe hit yow neuer

to graunte;

I am derely to yow biholde,

Bi-cause of your sembelaunt,

& euer in hot & colde

To be your trwe seruaunt.

"Now forsake 3e þis silke." sayde þe burde þenne,

"For hit is symple in hit-self. & so hit wel seme3?

Lo! so hit is littel, & lasse hit is worþy;

Bot who-so knew þe costes þat knit ar þer-inne,

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 to-hewe hym þat my3t;

For he my3t not he slayn, for sly3t vpon erþe."

Þen kest þe kny3t, & hit come to his hert,

Hit were a Iuel for þe Iopardé, þat hym iugged were,

When he acheued to þe chapel, his chek forto fech;

My3¹ he haf slypped to þe vn-slayn, þe sle3t were noble.

Þenne ho þulged with hir þrepe, & þoled hir to speke,

& ho bere on hym þe belt, & bede hit hym swyþe,

& he granted, & [ho] hym gafe with a goud wylle,

& biso3t hym, for hir sake, disceuer hit neuer,

Bot to lelly layne for² hir lorde; þe leude hym acorde3.

Þat neuer wy3e schulde hit wyt, Iwysse, bot þay twayne,

for no3te;

He þonkked hir oft ful swyþe,

Ful þro with hert & þo3t.

Bi þat on þrynne syþe,

He hat3 kyst þe kny3t so to3t.

Thenne lachche3 ho hir leue, & leue3 hym þere,

For more myrþe of þat mon mo3t ho not gete;

When ho¹ wat3 gon, sir G. gere3 hym sone,

Rises, & riches hym in araye noble,

Lays vp þe luf-lace, þe lady hym ra3t,

Hid hit ful holdely, þer he hit eft fonde;

Syþen cheuely to þe chapel choses he þe waye,

Preuely aproched to a prest, & prayed hym þere

Þat he wolde lyfte² his lyf, & lern hym better,

How his sawle schulde be saued, when he schuld seye heþen.

Þere he schrof hym schyrly, & schewed his mysdede3,

Of þe more & þe mynne, & merci beseche3,

& of absolucioun he on þe segge calles;

& he asoyled hym surely, & sette hym so clene,

As dome3-day schulde haf ben di3t on þe morn.

& syþen he mace hym as mery among þe fre ladyes,

With comlych caroles, & alle kynnes ioye,

As neuer he did bot þat daye, to þe derk ny3t,

with blys;

Vche mon hade daynte þare,

Of hym, & sayde Iwysse,

Þus myry he wat3 neuer are,

Syn he com hider, er þis.

Now hym lenge in þat lee, þer luf hym bi-tyde;

3et is þe lorde on þe launde, ledande his gomnes,

He hat3 forfaren þis fox, þat he fol3ed longe;

As he sprent ouer a spenné, to spye þe schrewe,

Þer as he herd þe howndes, þat hasted hym swyþe,

Renaud com richchande þur3 a ro3e greue,

& alle þe rabel in a res, ry3t at his hele3.

Þe wy3e wat3 war of þe wylde, & warly abides,

& brayde3 out þe bry3t bronde, & at þe best caste3;

& he schunt for þe scharp, & schulde haf arered,

A rach rapes hym to, ry3t er he my3t,

& ry3t bifore þe hors fete þay fel on hym alle,