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3
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
& rechles
merþes.
[40]
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
& þe mirþe þat men couþe avyse; [45]
Such glaum ande gle
glorious to here,
Dere dyn
vpon day, daunsyng on nyȝtes,
Al watz hap vpon heȝe
in hallez & chambrez
With lordez & ladies, as leuest him þoȝt.
With all þe wele of þe
worlde þay woned
þer samen, [50]
Þe most kyd knyȝtez
vnder Krystes seluen,
& þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif
haden,
& he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court
haldes;
For al watz þis fayre folk in her first age,
on sille, [55]
Þe hapnest vnder heuen,
Kyng hyȝest mon of
wylle;
Hit were now gret nye to neuen
So hardy a here on hille.
[During the Christmas revelry at Camelot, a stranger
arrives.]
7
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,
& 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 & so þik,
& his lyndes & his
lymes so longe & so
grete,
Half etayn in erde I hope þat he were,
Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene,
& þat þe myriest in his muckel þat myȝt ride;
For of bak & of brest al were his bodi sturne,
Both his wombe & his wast
were worthily smale,
& 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,
& oueral enker-grene.
8
Ande al grayþed in grene
þis gome & 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, & his hod
boþe,
Þat watz laȝt
fro his lokkez &
layde on his schulderes;
Heme wel-haled hose of
þat same,
Þat spenet on his sparlyr, & clene spures vnder
Of bryȝt golde, vpon silk bordes barred ful ryche,
& scholes vnder
schankes þere þe schalk rides;
& alle his vesture uerayly watz clene verdure,
Boþe þe barres of his belt & oþer
blyþe stones,
Þat were richely rayled
in his aray clene
Aboutte hymself & his sadel, vpon silk werkez.
Þat were to tor for to
telle of tryfles þe
halue
Þat were enbrauded
abof, wyth bryddes &
flyȝes,
With gay gaudi of grene, þe golde ay inmyddes.
Þe pendauntes of his payttrure, þe proude cropure,
His molaynes, & alle þe metail anamayld
was þenne,
Þe steropes þat he stod on stayned of þe
same,
& his arsounz al after
& his aþel skyrtes,
Þat euer glemered & glent al of grene stones;
Þe fole
þat he ferkkes on fyn of
þat ilke,
sertayn,
A grene hors gret & þikke,
A stede ful stif to strayne,
In brawden brydel quik
To þe gome he watz ful
gayn.
9
Wel gay watz þis gome gered in grene,
& 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 & 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 & his toppyng twynnen of a sute,
& bounden boþe wyth a bande of a bryȝt grene,
Dubbed wyth ful dere stonez, as þe dok lasteda,
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.
[???]
13
“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 & Nwe ȝer, & 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,
& 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, & lach þis weppen,
I quitclayme hit for euer, kepe hit as his auen,
& I schal stonde hym a
strok, stif on þis
flet,
Ellez þou wyl diȝt me þe dom to dele hym
an oþer
barlay,
& ȝet gif hym respite,
A twelmonyth & a day;
Now hyȝe, & let se tite
Dar any herinne oȝt say.”
[Sir Gawain agrees to take up the offer.]
19
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, & 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,
& schrank þurȝ
þe schyire grece,
& 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;
& nawþer faltered ne fel þe freke neuer þe
helder,
Bot styþly he start forth
vpon styf schonkes,
& runyschly he raȝt out, þere as renkkez
stoden,
Laȝt to his lufly hed, & lyft hit vp sone;
& syþen boȝez to
his blonk, þe brydel he
cachchez,
Steppez into stelbawe &
strydez alofte,
& his hede by þe here in his honde haldez;
& 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.
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