The romance of Guy of Warwick. The first or 14th-century version.694 600dpi TIFF G4 page imagesUniversity of Michigan LibraryAnn Arbor, Michigan2006AHA2638.0001.001820.6 E13e no.42,49,59

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Early English Text Society (Series) no. 42, 49, 59.The romance of Guy of Warwick. The first or 14th-century version.Zupitza, Julius, ed. 1844-1895.4 p.l., 674 p. 22 cm. London,Pub. for the Early English text society by K. Paul, Trench, Trübner, & co., limited,1883, 1887, 1891.

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 eng Guy of Warwick (Legendary character)

The Romance of Guy of Warwick. The first or 14th-century Version.

EDITED FROM THE AUCHINLECK MS. IN THE ADVOCATES' LIBRARY, EDINBURGH, AND FROM MS. 107 IN CAIUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, BY JULIUS ZUPITZA, PH.D., PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF BERLIN; HONORARY MEMBER OF THE CAMBRIDGE PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY.

LONDON: PUBLISHED FOR THE EARLY ENGLISH TEXT SOCIETY BY KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & CO., LIMITED, DRYDEN HOUSE, 43, GERRARD STREET, SOHO, W. 1883, 1887, 1891.

[This Title-quarter-sheet is now issued because no pupil of the late Prof. Zupitza has yet come forward to complete his edition of the various versions of Guy of Warwick, and some Members wish to bind together their three Parts of the 14th-century version which the Society has publisht.—F. J. F., 25 Nov., 1905.]

Extra Series, XLII, XLIX, LIX.

RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BUNGAY.

 Here ginneþ Sir Gij. (AUCHINLECK MS. 107v) Gij of Warwike.

[The first leaf is wanting in the Auchinleck MS., and the story is here supplied from the French version, MS. Corpus Coll., Camb., leaf 6, collated with MS. Harleian 3775, leaf 15.]

 Puis cel tens ke deus fu nez e establi crestienetez, 1multz des11_1 multes, Harl. auentures sont auenues, keQui a tuz hommes ne sont pasomit. sues. pur ceo deit l'em mult enquere, e pener sei de bien fere, e de 4bons prendre44_4 aprendre bons esperimentz, de faitz, de diz as aunciens qui deuant nus esteient. auentures beles lur aueneient, pur ceo qu'il amoient uerite, tut dis fei e leaute. De eus deit l'um bien souenir e lur bons faitz dire e oir: qui mult out e ceo retient souent mult sage deuient; 5ceo est tenu55_5 il ceo tent ben. a bele mestrie, ki fait le sen e lest la folie. . . . . . De un counte uoloms parler qui mult faitfeseit a preiser, e de un son senescal qui pruz ertesteit e leal; e de son fiz, un damoisel qui mult par ert gent e bel; e com il amat une pucele, la fylle au counte, ke mult ert bele. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . En engleterre un coens esteit, en Warewik la cite maneit: riches ert e de grant Foerpouer, queintes, sages, bon cheualer; riches ert de or e de argent, de Dras, de seie, de vesselement, de fortz chasteulchastels, de riche citez; par tut le rengne ert mult dotez. n'in' aueit homme en tote la terre qui uers li osahtosat prendre guerre, ke par force tohttost nel preist, e en lasa chartre nel meist. bons cheualers mult ama, riches douns souent lur dona; pur ceo fu cremu e dote, e par tut le rengne preise. coens esteit de mult grant pris, sires ert de tuit le pais; de oxeneford tut le honur sue estoit a icel iour; de bukingham deomit. tut le counte sire en telcel tens esteit clame. li coens roaud out a nun, mult par esteit noble barun. vne fylle auoitout de sa mulier, sa grant beaute ne puis conter: pur la plus bele le unt choisie. ore est reisun ke l'em uus die vn petitet de sa grantomit. beaute: le viz out blank e colore, lunge, traitettreitis, e auenaunt; bele buche, e nes bien seaunt, les euz uairs e le chief bloi; de li ueer uus semblast poi: bien faite de cors, de bele estature, tant par ad duce la reguardure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . corteise ert e enseignee, de tuz artz ert enseigneeendoctuinee: . . . . . . . . . . ses mestres esteient venuz de tulettetoulette, tuttouz blaunks chanuz, . . . . . . . . . . qui la apernoient de astrenomie, de arsmeticarsmetrike, de Geumetrie. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . mult par ert fere de corage: pur ceo ke ele fud tant sage, ducs e countes la requeroient; de 7multz de77_7 mute; read multes terres pur liluy venoient, mes nul de eus amer ne uoleit, pur ceo ke tant bele esteit. felice fu la bele appellee: pur sa beaute fu mult amee; de totes beautez fu ele la flur, tant bele ne ert a icel iour. ki totes terres dunc serchast vne tant bele n'ine trouast: qui tote sa beaute countereit trop grant demorance i freit. de la pucele lerrum ester, 2e de22_2 del senescal uodrum parler, keQi mult ert corteis e sage: homme fu de mult grant parage; riches ert e de multomit. grant ualur; en icel tens ni out meillur, 5ne ke55_5 Ni qi fuht tant des armes prise, kar en mainte terre aueit este pur sun pris enhaucier; pur ceo 6fait il66_6 feseit mult a loer. en Walingeford nez estoit, tuit le pais a li apendoit: pur ceo fud il nobles e fier; tant bon n'in' aueit de casa (= ça) la mier, ne ki seruist sun seingnur, tuz iours a si grant honur. His lord he serued treweliche In al þing manschipeliche. þer was non erl in Inglond þat to ȝeines him durst stond, Bot, ȝif he wold be wiþ him at on, He wald do nimen him anon, & wiþ strengþe him nim wolde, þei he to Scotlond suwe him scholde. His lordis honour he held worþschipliche, & defended it wele & hardiliche; þer nasMS. was kni[ȝ]t in Inglonde þat wiþ wretþe durst him atstonde. . . . . . . . . . . þei a man bar an hundred pounde, Opon him, of gold y-grounde, þe[r] nas man in al þis londe þat durst him do schame no schonde, þat bireft him worþ of a slo, So gode pais þer was þo. Þilke steward hadde a sone Trewe & wise atte frome; Al folk he dede him loue, For þat noman schuld him schoue; & riche ȝiftes ȝiuen he wold, For þat he schuld be fre yhold. þerl Rohaud he serued þo, As he schuld his kinde lorde do; þerl him loued swiþe dere, Ouer al oþer þat þer were. Of his coupe serue he him dede, He was preysed to him in euerich stede: þerl michel him worþschipede, & for his fader loue to him clepede. Gij of Warwike his name was, In court non better beloued þer nas, So he was among gret lordinges, Litel & michel in al þinges. Gentil he was & of michel miȝt, Ouer al oþer feirest bi siȝtMS. bisiȝt: Al þai wonderd strongliche, For his feirhed was so miche; So mani godenes in him were, Al him preysed þer y-fere, Of bordis & turnament y-wis, Kniȝtes to hauen & holden of pris. Gij a forster fader hadde, þat him lerd & him radde Of wodes & riuer & oþer game: Herhaud of Ardern was his name. He was hende & wele y-tauȝt, Gij to lern forȝat he nauȝt; Michel he couþe of hauk & hounde, Of estriche faucouns of gret mounde. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It was opon a Pentecost day yteld, þerl a gret fest held At Warwike in þat cite, þat þan was y-won to be. þider cam men of miche miȝt, Erls & barouns boþe apliȝt, Leuedis & maidens of gret mounde, þat in þe lond wer y-founde. Eueriche maiden ches hir loue Of kniȝtes þat wer þider y-come, & euerich kniȝt his leman Of þat gentil maiden wiman; When þai were fro chirche y-come, þer aliȝt mani a noble gome. þerl to þe mete was sett, Gij stode forn him in þat flett, þat was þe steward sone, þerl to serue it was his wone. To him he cleped Gij, & him hete & comandi þat he in to chaumber went, & grete wele þat maiden gent, & þat he schuld þat ich day Serue wele þat feir may. Gij him answerd freliche: 'Sir, ichil wel bleþeliche.' In a kirtel of silk he gan him schrede, Into chaumber wel sone he ȝede. Þe kirtel bicom him swiþe wel, To Amenden þer on was neuer a del; Þe maidens biheld him feir & wel, For þat he was so gentil. Gij on his knes sone him sett, & on hir fader half he hir grett, & seyd he was þider sent To serue hir to hir talent. Felice answerd þan to Gij 'Bieus amis, molt gramerci.' & seþþe sche asked him in þe plas Whennes he cam, & what he was. 'Mi fader,' he seyd, 'hat Suward, þat is þi fader steward, þat wiþ him me haþ y-held & forþ y-brouȝt, God him for-ȝeld!' 'Artow,' sche seyd, 'Suward sone, þat of al godenes haþ þe wone?' Gij stode stille & seyd nouȝt. Wiþ þat was the water forþ brouȝt: þai sett hem to mete anon, Erl, baroun, sweyn & grom. ¶ Gij was bisy þat ich day To serue wele þat feir may. þat day Gij dede his miȝt To serue þritti maidens briȝt; Al an-amourd on him þai were, & loued Gij for his feir chere. þer of no ȝaf he riȝt nouȝt, Al anoþer it was his þouȝt: On Felice þat was so briȝt, Gij hir loued wiþ al his miȝt; So michel sche was in his þouȝt, þat neye he was to deþ y-brouȝt, He gan to wepe & sore siche, & biment him wel reweliche; . . . . . . . . . . & grete wonder he hadde y-wis þat Felice so feir a creatour is. Ac he no dar his loue keþe, No sen hir wel vnneþe, He is in so gret þouȝt, His conseyl wil he schewe nouȝt. Into þe maidens chaumber he is y-go, At Felice he tok his leue þo, & in his way he goþ apliȝt. Vnto his chamber he went ful riȝt, & wepe & made grete wo, For he loued þat maiden so. His men axed him on hy, Whi þat he was so sori? He hem answerd sone anon, þat swiche iuel is comen him on þat he weneþ his liif forgon, Bote no tit him neuer non. In þe court biment was Gij; Mani man for him was sori, For he was won to serue hem wel, & ȝif hem mani a iuwel. Now is Gij in gret tempest, Sorwe he makeþ wiþ þe mest Of Felice þat feir may; For hir loue he sorweþ ay. . . . . . . . . . . & grete wonder he haþ y-wis Þat him so hard bifallen is; He acursed þe time þat [he] hir say, Felice wiþ hir eyȝen gray, Hir gray eyȝen, hir nebbis schene: 'For hir mi liif is miche in wene. To hir ichil tellen al mi þouȝt, Whi þat icham in sorwe brouȝt. Tide me gode oþer qued, Y nil it hele for no nede, Riȝt to hir that y ne go & schewe hir of mi miche wo. . . . . . . . . . . ¶ Ac now to hir schewen y nille; Allas, wreche, hou may i duelle? . . . . . For mi lordes douhter sche is, & ich his nori, forsoþe y-wis; Þerfore ich auȝt him treweþe bere, & neuer more him to dere. Ȝif ich hir loued, & it wist he, & he miȝt ouer-take me, He wald anon mine heued of smite, Oþer heye hong, for that wite, Oþer hewe me wiþ swerdes kene, Ȝif ich hadde don him þat tene. Allas, wreche, what may y do? Y loue þing y no may com to!' ¶ Now is Gij in sorwe ybrouȝt; Of his liif nis him nouȝt. . . . . . . . . . . He went and trent his bed opon, So man þat is wo bigon; He no may sitt no stonde, No vnneþe drawen his onde; Rest, no take slepeinge, Mete ete, no drinke dringe; No may him noman comforti, Bot euer his song is wo & wi. In so gret þouȝt was he þo, & so gret sorwe toke him to, Leuer him wer walk & wende, & dye in trewe loue bende. ¶ Þus [Gij] lay in grete turment Til þat þe fest was al to-went. Swiche an iuel is on him fast, Þat he no may it of him cast; He no wil noman his care schewe. His sorwes ben euer aliche newe, Þat he no may his loue haue, Grete strengþe him doþ wiþ-drawe. Þer-fore he seyd, 'ichil hir schewe, My peyne is euer aliche newe; Of al mi sorwe nis hir nouȝt, Ich wold ich were to deþ y-brouȝt. Bitide me iuel oþer gode, Ichil it held in mi mode; & ȝif sche wil, sche may me spille, Ac for al þat leten y nille.' Now is Gij to court y-go, AsAs illegible in MS. man þat is ful of wo, & on his knes he him dede Bifor Felice in þat stede, & to hir he spac wel euen Wiþ a wel queynt steuen, & seyd, 'Felice þe feir, merci! For godes loue & our leuedi, Þat y þe no finde mi dedliche fo, For godes loue herken me to! No longer hele y nille, Al that soþe tellen y wille. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Þou art þe þing þat y most ȝerne, Fro þe no may mine hert terne; Opon al oþer y loue þe, Y no may it lete ded to be. Vnder heuen no þing nis, Noiþer gode no qued y-wis, Þat y for þe don yso MS.; read it. nolde, To lete þat liif don y wolde. Þou art mi liif, mi ded y-wis, Wiþouten þe haue y no blis; Y loue þe and tow nouȝt me, Y dye for þe loue of þe. Bot þou haue merci on me, For sorwe ichil me self sle, For wistestow þe heuinisse, Þe sorwe and þe sorinisse, Þat me is on niȝt and day (Bi trewe loue siggen ich it may)— & tow it miȝt wiþ eyȝen se, Þou wost haue merci on me.' Felice þe feir answerd þo, 'Artow þis, Gij, so mot þou go, Þe steward sone Suward, Ich wene þou art a fole musard! When þou of loue me hast bisauȝt, Al to fole-hardy þou art y-tauȝt. Wele þou holdest me for a fole; Þou art y-tauȝt to a liþer scole, & icham þi lordes douhter biname; Þan dostow him wel michel schame, When þou of loue bi-sechist me Þat y schold þi leman be. No fond y neuer man me so missede, No me so of loue bede, Noyþer kniȝt no baroun, Bot þou þat art a garsoun, & art mi man, & man schalt be. Yuel were mi fairhed sett on þe, & y swiche a grome toke, & so mani grete lordinges for-soke. Erls, doukes of þe best In þis world, & þe richest, Me haue desired apliȝt, Þat neuer of me hadde siȝt. Þat wer gret deshonour to me! Al to loþ mi liif me schuld be. Al to fole-hardi þou were, When þou me of loue bisouȝtest here. Bi mi trewþe y schal þe swere, Schal y mi fader þe tiding bere, Þou worþest to-hewen, oþer for-do, (Bi þe be warned oþer mo) Oþer wiþ wilde hors to-drawe, For þi foly, & þat wer lawe, & oþer schul be warned bi þi dede, & her lordinges þe more drede. Go heþen,' sche seyd, '& vp arise, & cum nam-more in mi purpris!' ¶ Wel sorwefuliche went Gij In to his chaumber al dreri: Gij in to his chaumber gan to gon, & schett him þer in anon. Þer in he made sorwe anouȝ, & his cloþes al to-drouȝ. Vnder heuen nas þat it ne miȝt haue rewþe Of his sorwenes & of his trewþe. Of loue he bi-ment strongliche For whom þat he loued so miche: 'Loue,' he seyd, 'slake now mi sore Þat is dedeliche, as y seyd ore. Loue of þis ȝongling Makeþ me iuel fonding. Loue, bring me of þis wodenisse, & bring me in to sum lisse, For to reste me aþrowe, Þat y miȝt meseluen knowe. Sore me meneþ, for me smert, Miche care is in mine hert, Michel ich am y-cast of miȝt Al to fer wiþ vnriȝt. Loue me doþ to grounde falle, Þat y ne may stond stef wiþ alle. Loue doþ min cloþes done, & after me clepeþ 'wreche' sone. Hou schal y liue? hou schal y fare? Hou long schal y liuen in care? Leuest þing me were to dye, & ich wist bi wiche weye. Deþ,' he seyd, 'wher artow so long? Þou makest me y may nouȝt stond. Þou makest me out of þe way to gon; Whi ne comestow to feche me anon? Worþi ich were ded to be: Y loue þing þat loueþ nouȝt me. Herkeneþ now hou seiþ þe wise: Y schal ȝou schewe bi þis asise. For a fole he schal him held Þat takeþ more þan he may weld. To a fenestre þan Gij is go, Biheld þe castel, þe tour also. 'Tour,' he seyd, 'feir artow bisett! In þe is þat maiden bischett Þat liueþ þer in ioie & blis, & ichir loue for soþe y-wis. Tour, when wer thou ouer-þrowe, And wiþ þe winde al to-blowe! Þat y miȝt hir wiþ eyȝen se Þat y loue more þan me!' He ginneþ to wepe & sore siche, His care him neweþ eueriliche; Adoun he fel and swoune bigan, (More sorwe made neuer man) & cursed þe time þat he was bore, For now he haþ his witt forlore. 'Loue,' he seyd, 'acursed þou be! To michel miȝt it is in þe Þat y ne may me fro þe were; Loue, merci, þatow me no dere! Leuer me were forto dye Þan long to liuen here in eyȝe. Allas, Felice, þat ich stounde, Þi loue me haþ so ybounde! & þat y serued þe þat day, Acursed be þat time, seyen y may! No bid ichaue non oþer mede, Bot slake mi sorwe, ichaue nede. Y loue þe & tow nouȝt me. Euen dole may it nouȝt be; For of mi sorwe no hastow nouȝt. Allas! to grounde icham ybrouȝt! Þou hast þe gode, & y þe quede: Y brenne so spark on glede. Seþþe þou me lokedest first to, Þou me woundest wiþ a flo. Schal y dye for þat siȝt? Merci, Felice, þat swete wiȝt! Mine hert is ful of venim spilt, Of blis no worþ it neuer filt.' Swiche liif ladde Gij sikerliche Al that seuenniȝt holeliche. His fader was for him sori, Sabin his moder biment Gij, Þerl for him sori was, Þer liked non in that plas: Litel & michel, al & some, Biment Gij att[e] frome. Þerl dede þe leches of-sende Of Gyes iuel to wite þat ende. Þe leches ben to him y-go: Gij þai finde blaike and blo; Hij asked him where his iuel stode. He seyd for hete he brend nere wode: 'So hot ich am, & bren[n]inge, Mi sorwe is euer cominge, Þat al mi limes it haþ to-tiȝt; Swiche liif y lede day & niȝt. After þe hete me comeþ a chele Þat me greueþ wiþ vn-skele, Þat y wex cold as ise. So vn-kinde iuel it is, Þat al mine limes it wil to-te; & seþþe me comeþ swouninges þre, For anguis swoune it me doþ Tviis or þriis, y say for soþ. Swiche liif y lede niȝt & day: Non oþer wise y no can ȝou say.' ¶ Þan seyd þat on, 'a feuer it is.' 'Ȝa,' quod Gij, 'a liþer y-wis.' Þe leches gon, & lete Gij one, Þat makeþ wel michel mone. 'God,' quod Gij, 'what schal y do? Hou long schal y liuen in wo? Þat y no miȝt ded be, When y no may hir wiþ eyȝen se, Þat haþ al mine hert & þouȝt! & y no misgilt hir neuer nouȝt, Bot on þat ichir loue wel, & euer more loue schel! Ȝif ich it hir schewe, sche wil telle Hir fader, & he me wil quelle. Þei he it wist, siker apliȝt, More þan me sle don he no miȝt. Ȝif he me slouȝ, it were schonde, Schuld y þan for deþ wonde; To hir for soþe ichil go & schewe hir of mi michel wo. Vnder heuen [n]is so strong þing So is loue and wowing. Now,' he seyd, 'what for þan? Þei ich hir loue, blame me noman; To warant ichil drawe atte frome Þat loue doþ me þider come, & þat loue doþ me go to þe Þat y no may wiþ-hold me.' With þis Gij arisen is, & to þe gate goþ y-wis. 'God,' quod Gij, 'y do foliliche: Y sle me seluen sikerliche; Mine owhen [deþ] y go now secheinde. God,' he seyd, 'be mine helpinde!' Adoun he fel a-swounie; & when he gan to dawei, 'To þe court,' he seyd, 'ichil go, Be it for wele or for wo: To þe court ichil, what so bitide, Þei gret strengþe me do abide.' Now is Gij to court y-comen As man þat is wiþ sorwe y-nome, & in to an erber he is y-go, Felice findeþ þer in þo; At hir fet he him leyd, Al wepeand to hir he seyd, 'Felice, now ich am comen to þe, & ȝif þou wilt, þou miȝt m[e] sle, For now icham wiþ-in thi loke, & þine hest ichaue to-broke. For ich would þatow seye Þe sorwe þat y for þe dreye: Þe strong pine & þe wo Y dreye for þe euer-mo. Mine hert schal bileue wiþ þe: Wiltow, niltow, it schalMS. itschal. so be, Þatread þat me? mi bodi ferliread fersi? may, Bot þat wille it lasteþ ay. Þer while y liue, loue y þe wille, & bot ȝif y do, ichil me spille; For me no schal it to-deled be Þer while þat liif it lasteþ in me; Þe to loue no miȝtow me forbede, In wo & sorwe þou dost me fede. Whan it worþ þi fader y-teld Þatow hast mine hert in weld, & he wite that y loue þe, Ichot for soþe he wil me sle; & þat schal turn me al to blis When y schal dye for soþe y-wis. Henne forward ne reche y me Of mi liif, whare it be, No of mi deþ neuer þe mo No reche y neuer where y go.' He ferd as he wer mat, Adoun he fel aswoune wiþ þat; Felice stode & loked him to & biheld his strong wo; . . . . . . . . . . To a mayde sche seyd þo: 'Take him vp in þine armes to, & lay him soft on þeMS. onþe grounde'; & sche dede so in þat stounde. Þat mayden ȝede to him wepeinde, & Gij wel sore biminde: 'Bi godMS. Bigod of heuen,' sche seyd, & ich wer as feir a mayd, & as riche kinges douhter were As ani in þis warld here, & he of mi loue vnder-nome were, As he is of þine in strong manere, & he wald me so o loue ȝerne, Me þenke y no myȝt it him nouȝt werne.' Felice the feir answerd þo: 'Damisel,' sche seyd, 'whi seistow so? Þou art to blame, al-so y se, No-þing þer-mid no paistow me. Oft þou hast y-herd in speche Þat we no schal no man biseche, Ac men schul biseche wimen In the feirest maner þat þai can, & fond to speden ȝif þai may Boþe biMS. biniȝtes niȝtes and bi day.' Of his swouning he vpros þo; Þe maiden him tok in armes to. Felice seyd to Gij, 'þou dost folie, Þatow wilt for mi loue dye; Schal y do mi fader of-sende? I schal him telle word & ende, Þat tow dost me litel worþschipe, When þou me desirest to schenschipe; In his court he schal deme þe, & al to-lime, to queme me.' ¶ Gij answerd anon þer-to, 'God ȝeue þat it wer y-do, Þat of mi deþ þou haddestMS. þouhaddest wite! Of mi liif is me bot lite; Redi ich am it to vnder-fong, Be it wiþ riȝt, be it wiþ wrong.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ¶ Felice hadde of him gret rewþe: 'Gij,' quod [sche], 'þou louest me in trewþe; Al to michel þou art afoild, Now þi blod it is acoild. Ac o thing y grant þe; More no miȝtow asky me: Þer nis leuedi, no maiden non, In þis cuntre so wide so man may gon, & tow louedest hir astow dost me Þat sche no wold grant hir loue to þe.' Gij seyd to Felice, 'now lete þis be; Now me þenke þou scornnest me. Nis me nouȝt iuel anouȝ y-diȝt, When þou wilt of me no-wiȝt? Now a foleMS. afole ich-il be & mi witt chaunge for þe!' 'Gij,' seyd Felice, 'now vnder-stond: For now nil y noþing wond; & þei y say þe al mi wille, No hold it for non vn-skille: No grome louen y no may Fort he be kniȝt forsoþ to say, Feir & beld to tellen by, S[t]rong in armes & hardi; & when þou hast armes vnder-fong, & ichaue it vnder-stonde, Þan schaltow haue þe loue of me, Ȝif þow be swiche as y telle þe.' When Gij herd þat tiding, For ioie his hert gan to spring; At hir he tok leue anon, In-to the castel he gan to gon; Al so swiþe as he it miȝt do, In-to the court he gan to go: Of euerich day him þought ten Fort he seye hiss added over the line. lemen. & when he feld him hole & fere, He went to court wiþ glad chere; Michel ioie wiþ him þai made, & alle þai wer bliþe & glade. . . . . . . . . . . To þerl þan went Gij, & gret þat kniȝt hardi, & seyd, 'sir, þine armes ich ax; Ȝif ich am þer to y-wax, Ich am redi hem to fong, & þe to serue wiþ-outen wrong.' Þerl answerd, & seyd þo, 'Bleþeliche, Gij, seþþe þou wilt so.' ¶ Þerl dede anon aparaile Gyes dobing wiþ-outen feyle; Wel richelich he dubbed Gij, & wiþ him felawes tventi, Þat al barouns sones were (For Gyes loue he dubbed hem þere), Þat wiþ þerl Rohaud hadde ben long, In his seruise armes to vnder-fong. It was at þe holy trinite, Þerl dubbed sir Gij þe fre, & wiþ him tventi god gomis, Kniȝtes and riche baroun sonis. Of cloth of Tars & riche cendel Was he[r] dobbeing euerich a del; Þe panis al of fow & griis, Þe mantels weren of michel priis, Wiþ riche armour & gode stedes, Þe best þat wer in lond at nedis. Alder-best was Gij y-diȝt, Þei he wer an emperour sone, apliȝt: So richeliche dobbed was he, Nas no swiche in þis cuntre; Wiþ riche stedes wele erninde, Palfreys, coursours wele bereinde. No was þer noiþer sweyn no knaue, Þat ouȝt failed þat he schuld haue. ¶ Now is sir Gij dobbed to kniȝt; Feir he was and michel of miȝt. To Felice went sir Gij, & gret hir wel curteyslie, & seyd, 'ichaue don astow seydest me to, For þe ichaue suffred miche wo: . . . . . . . . . . Arme for þe ichaue vnder-fong, Þe to se me þouȝt long. Þou art me boþe leue & dere, Ich am y-comen þi wille to here.' ¶ 'Gij,' seyd Felice, 'heye þe nouȝt: Ȝete hastow no þing of armes y-wrouȝt. No artow þe better neuer a del Þan þou wer ere, y say þe wel, Bot on þatow [hast] newe dobing, & art cleped kniȝt wiþ-outen lesing; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bot it be þurch þi miȝt, Þou no miȝt chalang loue þurch riȝt.' When Gij herd Felice so speke, He tok his leue and gan out reke; At hir leue he tok anon, & to his fader he gan to gon, & seyd, 'fader, vnder-stond me: Icham newe dobbed as ȝe may se, Ouer þe se ichil now fare To win priis & los þare.' His fader him answerd sone, 'Sone, god leue þe wele to done! & als michel as þe nede be, Sone, schaltow haue wiþ þe.' . . . . . . . . . . ¶ Suward cleped Herhaud to him, & seyd, 'Herhaud, frende min, Wiþ Gi mi sone schaltow wende; In gode stede mot ȝe lende. Þou schalt kepe mi sone Gij, For he is mi sone & tow mi norri. . . . . . . . . . . Loke, Herhaud, þat tow him kepe; & þine felawes þat ben ȝepe, Boþe Torold & sir Vrri, On ȝou y trust sikerli; & wiþ Herhaud schul ȝe go To kepe mi sone from care & wo.' & hii answerd sone anon, 'Hastiliche, sir, wil we wiþ him gon.' Þai weren boþe strong kniȝtes, Bold and hardi in ich fiȝtes.altered to fiȝttes in MS. Gij tok wiþ him what he wold Boþe of siluer & of gold. To þe se þai ben now y-come, & seyled ouer atte frome. Þai comen in-to Normondye, Knight-schippe þai sechen on heye; In Ron Gij takeþ his herberwe Wiþ þe richest man of þe borwe; Mete & drink þai hadde anouȝ, Nas þer non þat it wiþ-drouȝ. . . . . . . . . . . Sir Gij his ost cleped him to, & him bi-gan to frein þo, & asked him wher þe turnament schuld be, So mani scheldes þan seye he. His ost seyd, 'sir, wite ȝe nouȝt Of þis turnament þat is biþouȝt?' 'No,' seyd Gij, 'bi mine wite, Y no herd þer-of neuer ȝete.' His ost him answerd snelle, 'Of þat turnament y schal ȝou telle: It schal be for a maiden of pris, Þemperours douhter sche is; A turnament he haþ don grede, A swiþe michel & vn-rede. Þer nis no kniȝt in Speyne, Al to þe se of Breteyne, Þat ouȝt y-told wiþ be, Þer men schal his miȝt se. He þat best doþ þat day, Þer he schal winne þat play. Of euerich londe þider com kniȝtes, Þat strong ben & bold in fiȝtes; For who that is gode & snelle, As ichaue herd oþer men telle, Who þat þer be of mest miȝt, Grete worþschipe he winneþ, apliȝt. For þe maiden y spac of er, Is þemperours douhter Reyner; He schal bring to þe turment þat day (Wele is him þat it winne may) A ger-fauk þat is milke white (To him nis nowhare his liche), & a stede of gret bounte (He no schuld be ȝouen for a cuntre). & tvai grehoundes þat white ben (Swiche no haþ men nowhare y-sen). & who so winneþ þe turnament al Bi aiþer half, þe priis have schal, Þe gerfauk & þe gode stede Boþe he schal haue to mede, & þe tvay grehoundes þat gode beþ He schal haue þat þer best deþ, & þe maiden þat is so fre, Bot he haue a fairer in his cuntre.' ¶ When sir Gij herd þat tiding, Glad he was wiþ-outen lesing; Sir Gij seyd to his fere, 'In gode time come we here: To morwe, so sone so it is day, We wil wenden in our way.' Sir [Gij] his ost a palfrey ȝaf þo, For þe tiding he teld him to. Anon amorwe wel erliche Þai don hem in her wai sikerliche. . . . . . . . . . . Of rideing wil þai neuer stent To þai com to þe turnament. & when þai wer þider y-come, Þai seye þer mani douȝti gome: Bi feldes & bi riuers ridinde Mani a kniȝt þai seye cominde. & when þai were þider y-come, To þe turnament þai went al & some; Out of þe rengge þai gun hem diȝt, Þe barouns þat were of miche miȝt. Þan oxed anon sir Gij To þe barouns þat onedread houed? him bi: 'What is he, þat ich kniȝt, Þat out of þe renge haþ him diȝt, Wiþ þo armes briȝt & schene?' Hii answerd anon: 'y wene, It is a kniȝt of miche priis, Douhti he is bi Seyn Deniis; Out of þe rengge he haþ him diȝt, Ȝif he miȝt finden ani kniȝt Þat wiþ him wald iusti; Þer-to he makeþ him redi.' Oȝaines sir Gij þer come Gayer, To iuste wiþ him he drouȝ him ner; He rode to him as a gode kniȝt, He semed a manMS. aman of miche miȝt. . . . . . . . . . . Gaier smot sir Gij bifore & þurch þe scheldMS. þescheld him haþ i-bore; Þe launce brak, þat was wele wrouȝt, Þe hauberk was gode & failed nouȝt. Gij afterward Gaier smot, To grounde he feld him fot hot, Þe stede toke bi the reyn, & lepe vp wiþ gret meyn. Now ginneþ þe turnamint: Ich smit on oþer wel gode dint; Þai smiten togider for soþ, y pliȝt, Eueriche to nim oþer dede his miȝt. Wel mani kniȝtes Gij wan þat day, Of þe maistri he wan þat play; So mani helmes he to-drof, Þat mani man wonderd þer-of: Sat he neuer so wel no so fast, Þat he no feld him sone on hast. Þe douke Otus of Pauie To Gij he hadde envie; Wiþ him he wald iusti, It turned him to vilani. Þe douke come prikiand on his stede Þat certeyne was, and gode at nede, & sir Gij on anoþer al-so; Gode kniȝtes þai weren bo. Gij þurch þe scholder him smot, & feld him to grounde fot hot. ¶ Þe douke Reyner seye þat cas Of Sessione: wel modi he was. He come als swiþe as he miȝt driue, Gij to smite he heyed bliue, & seyd to him: 'in iuel stounde Ȝaf þou þe douke Otous wounde. To wroþer hele iuste þou wiþ him. He is mi germain cosyn: Icham þe douke Reyner þat to þe speke; Icham y-comen him to awreke: Turn þe and iuste wiþ me.' 'Bleþeliche,' quod Gij, 'bi my leute.' Gij him turned & gan to smite; He nold spare him bot lite; He smot þe douke on þe scheld, Þat it fleye in þe feld, & bar þe douke Reyner saunfeil Ouer & oue[r] his hors tayl. Þe stede bi þe reyn he haþ y-nome, Oȝain to þe douke he is y-come. 'Here is þine hors, y ȝiue it te; When ichaue nede, aquite it me!' & wele he ȝalt him his while, As gode kniȝt wiþ-outen gile; I schal ȝou tel feir & wel Hou he it ȝald him eueridel. When þe douk Otus y-seye þis, To-ȝaines Gij he come, y-wis: 'Sir kniȝt,' he seyd, 'y prey þe, Tel me þi nameMS. þiname and whenne tow be.' ¶ Sir Gij answerd wel freliche, 'Y schal þe tel ful bleþeliche: Gij of Warwike men clepeþ me; Ich was y-born in þat cuntre.' Þe douk Lowayn cam wiþ þis, A gode spere in his hond, y-wis; To Gij he smot wiþ gret hete, & Gij oȝain to him smite: To-gider so hard gun þai driue, Þat her speres gan al to-riue. Þai smiten togider hard & wel Wiþ her swerdes of grounden stiel Þurch scheld & hauberk also: Strong fiȝt was bi-tven hem to. Wiþ that come Herhaud priking; Þe douk he met coming, & of his hors him haþ y-feld Riȝt long streȝt in þe feld. Wiþ þat come þe douke Gaudiner, & mett wiþ sir Torold þer; Sir Torold smot him on þe scheld, Þat he feld him in the feld; He semed kniȝt gode & hardi. Wiþ þat come prikeing sir Urri; Þan gan þe fiȝt to ben aferd; Of swiche ne haue ȝe nouȝt y-herd, No ich it nouȝt telle no miȝt, For long dueling, y ȝou pliȝt, No no clerk vnder sonne, Þat þe soþe ȝou telle conne; Bot al þe folk of þat cuntre Seyd þat Gij þe best miȝt be. & þat oþer day y-same Sir Gij wan þat ich game; & þer-fore, on euerich a side, On him was leyd al þe pride. So opon þe þridde day Þe kniȝtes tok her leue and went oway. ¶ Wiþ þis come þe douk prikeing, A gode kniȝt and wele doing. 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'herkeneþ to me: Ichil ȝou telle hou it schal be; & who so þer-oȝain sey ouȝt, Of bateyl no þarf him feyl nouȝt.' Þai seyden al couinliche, Þe dome was ȝouen sikerliche; Þe gerfauk and þe gode stede, Þe grehoundes schul haue to mede Gij of Warwike, þe noble kniȝt, For best nov doand in þis fiȝt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Þus þe kniȝtes ben departed y-wis; Sir Gij to jn y-comen is, & dede him vnarmi: Of turnament he was weri. ¶ Wiþ þat come a seriant prikeinde, Gentil he was & wele spekeinde; To sir Gyes in he is y-come, & him he gret atte frome: . . . . . . . . . . 'Thou art y-chesen chef & pris Of al þis cuntre for soþe y-wis; For þou hast y-won þis turnament, Y make þe here þis present Fram þe maiden Blancheflour, Þat is mi lordes douhter þemperour: Þe gerfauk & þe stede also, & þe tvay grehoundes þer-to; & ȝete hir loue wiþ þan, Bot þou haue a fairer leman. Sche þat is þe tour wiþ-inne, To day þou miȝt hir loue winne.' Wel curteysliche answerd sir Gij: 'Sir,' he seyd, 'gramerci; Ich vnder-fong þis present, & þonke hir þat it hider sent; Hir druerie ich vnder-fong, Hir kniȝt to [be] wiþouten wrong. Leue fere,' he seyd, 'herken to me, What þat y schal telle þe: Þis armes ichil the ȝiue, & make riche while þou liue; & al þine feren þat be wiþ þe Riche ȝiftes schullen hauen of me, & do ich-il ȝou grete honour For þat maidens loue Blauncheflour.' 'Gramerci, sir Gij,' seyd he; 'For armes come y nouȝtMS. ynouȝt. to þe, Ac to þe maiden ichil wende, & tel hir boþe ord & ende, Blauncheflour, þat swete thing, Ichil hir tel gode tiding.' Þe seriant goþ & lete Gij þare, Þat liueþ in ioie and nouȝt in care. Tvay swaines Gij clepeþ him to, Anon he seyd to hem bo: 'This present ȝe schullen vnderfong, & wende þer-wiþ into Inglond, & present þer-wiþ bi mi word Rohaut, mi kinde lord.' & when þai herd what he hem hete, In her way þai dede hem skete, & went þe[r]wiþ in-to Inglond, & þerl Rohaut þer þai fond. Þe gerfauk and þe gode stede, Þe tvai grehoundes wiþ hemMS. originally him. ȝede; Þerl þai made þer-wiþ present, Þat sir Gij wan in turnament. & anon þai him teld Gij was þe best in þe feld, & þat he was best y-teld bi Of al þe kniȝtes of Normandi. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Þerl þer-of wel glad he was, & þonked god of þat gras; & Felice þe feir dede al-so, When þe tiding come hir to; And al his frendes eld and ȝing Glad were of þatd expunged after þat. tiding. Nov Gij wendeþ in-to fer lond, More of auentours for to fond; Forþ he went in-to Speyne,MS. originally Speyine. & after in-to Almeyne. Þer nas noiþer turnament no burdis, Þat Gij þer-of no wan þe priis. He was out al þat ȝer In mani londes fer & ner, And best is teld vnder sunne, & mest frendes haþ y-wonne. . . . . . . . . . . Þan seyd Herhaud to sir Gij (His maister he was & kniȝt hardi): 'In-to Inglond we schul nov go, So wele so we may it do, For we han ouer al y-be, Þe pris y-wonne in euerich cuntre.' Gij seyd, 'maister, y grant wel; At þi wil be it eueridel.' 'Now we han ben her & tar, Þe pris y-wonne euer ay-war; To king Aþelston þou schalt aqueynt þe Of Inglond þat is so fre, & wiþ þe barouns also, So wele þou may it nov do. . . . . . . . . . . ¶ Gij seyd, 'tomorwe, when it is day, Wende we wil in our way.' & when þe day is y-come, In her way þai ben y-nome; Ouer se þai gan wende In Inglond þai gun lende. Anon þai com to king Athelston, Wel fair he hem vnder-fenge anon; Wiþ erls & barouns aqueynt him dede Þat riche ȝiftes him bede. Nov is Gij to Warwike fare; Þerl Rohaut he fint þare. He welcomed him & his fere, For he was him leue & dere, & kist him wel sweteliche, & of his present þonked him miche. To his leman he is y-come, & euen forþ hir-self sche haþ him nome. . . . . . . . . . . Glad was his fader for him, Sabin his moder & al his kin, & al þe folk of þat cuntre Bliþe were þai miȝt him se. ¶ To Felice þan sir Gij is go; Sweteliche he seyd hir to: 'Leman,' he seyd, 'wele þou be, Mi liif ichaue for loue of þe; Ded ich were ȝif þou nere, Mi bodi destrud and leyd on bere. When þou þi wille hadde seyd to me, Armes y fenge for loue of [þe]; & when ich hadde armes take, Þou seyd þou noldest me for-sake, . . . . . . . . . . Þou noldest þi loue werne to me; & nov ich am her comen to þe: Dere leman, y prey þe Þi wille þatow tel to me.' Felice answerd swiþe an heye, 'No rape þe nouȝt so, sir Gij; Ȝete nartow nouȝt y-preysed so, Þat me ne may finde oþer mo; Orped þou art and of grete miȝt, Gode kniȝt & ardi in fiȝt: & ȝif ich þe hadde mi loue y-ȝeue, To welden it while þat y liue, Sleuþe þe schuld ouercome: Namore wostow of armes loue, No comen in turnament no in fiȝt. So amerous þou were anon riȝt. Y schuld misdo, so þenkeþ me, & miche agilt oȝaines te, & ich þi manschip schuld schone, Witt over an erasure. me euer more to wone. Gij,' quod Felice, 'forhele y nille, Ac al þe soþe ichil þe telle: Þou art me leuest of oþer alle, For þi 'leman' ichil the calle; Ac mi loue no schaltow haue For noþing þatow may craue, Er þou perles holden be & best doand in þis cuntre, Þat nowhar bi lond no w[e]ter No be founde þi beter; & when þou art hold best doinde In armes þat animan mai finde, Þat vnder heuen þi beter no be, Mi loue ichil þan graunti þe.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . When Gij herd Felice speke so, Wel depe he gan to sike þo: 'Now ichot, þou scornest me: Swiche answer ichaue of þe, Þat y schuld be þe best y-teld, Þat be fiȝtand wiþ spere & scheld. Swiche no miȝt y neuer werþe To be þe best on þis erþeon þis erþe on an erasure.; Into oþer cuntres ichil go, For þi loue to wirche me wo. For dout of deþ nil y nouȝt fle: Ȝif y dye, it is for þe.' Sir Gij of hir toke his leue, & kist hir wiþ wepeand eye. Unto his in he goþ snelle; Þer nil he no lenger duelle. To þerl he wil gon, & tak his leue sone anon. Gij him com to court þore, & aliȝt atte halle dore; & to þerl he went þo, & schewed him wat he wald do. 'Sir erl,' quod Gij, 'y bid þe, Leue to wende ȝif þou me. Ouer þe se ichil now wende; God to gode hauen me sende! Time it is þat ich fond To winne priis in vncouþe lond; Al þe glader ȝe mow be Ȝif we of armes preised be. & ȝif þou hast folk of grete miȝt, It is te gret worþschip, y pliȝt, For al þe more men schal þe dout Wiþ-in þi lond & eke wiþ-out.' ¶ 'Sir Gij,' quod þerl þo, 'Faileþ þe out þat y mai do? Gold oþer siluer, oþer heye stede? To passe þe se hastow no nede. Sir Gij,' he seyd, 'lete ben al þis, Anouȝ þe worþ þat þe nede is; & to pleyn vnder þe linde, Þe hert to chacen and þe hinde: Of al þinges þou schalt haue plente. Bileue at hom, sir Gi, wiþ me. We schul wende boþe y-fere To play bi wode & bi riuer; Al bi times þou miȝt wende; Ȝete no hastow ben here a moneþ to þendeÞende added over the line.. ¶ 'Miche þank, sir,' quod Gij þo; 'For soþe so no may [y] nouȝt do.' His leue he toke wiþ-outen more; Þerl it of-þouȝt swiþe sore. He goþ him to his fader þo, Þat for his wending was ful wo: 'Gon, fader,' quod he, 'ich-ille; For noþing leten y nille; Ȝif me leue, icham al ȝare Ouer þe se for to fare, To winne pris and los al-so, So ȝong man schal in ȝouþe do. Long to bileuen in þis cunt[r]e Nis it nouȝt worþ for me; For ȝong man þat is miȝti In his ȝouþe schal fondi, So þat men may him in erþe preyse, And in eld liue in mirþe & ayse. Þer-whiles icham ȝong & liȝt, Los ichil winne bi mi miȝt.' 'Leue sone,' he seyd, 'leue þat þouȝt: Bi mi wil schaltow wende nouȝt. Þou schalt bileue here wiþ me; Al þe bliþer we wille be.' 'Leue sone,' his moder him sede, 'Þou do bi þi faders rede: Soiourne wiþ ous to ȝer mo, Y rede þe, sone, þat it be so. Anoþer ȝer þou miȝt ouer fare. Bot þou bileue, y dye for care, For we ne haue sonis no mo: Ȝif we þe schul now for-go, Glad no worþ we neuer mo, For sorwe schul ouso of ous all but illegible. selue slo.' ¶ Gij answerd wiþ þat speche, 'Fader, god y þe biteche, & mi leue moder al-so; For hastiliche ichil nov go.' Gij forþ goþ, & þai bileue þare, Þat for hym hadde miche care. To þe se he is y-come, Gode winde he haþ atte frome. Y-comen he is in-to Normundye, Kniȝtschip he schewed on hye. Þennes he went in-to Speyne; Nis turnament non in-to Almeyne, Þat Gij no haþ þer-at y-be, & michel y-preised so is he. Þennes to Lombardye he went; Þer ben þe iustes & þe turnament, Þer he dede him preyse miche, Þe Lombardes him loued inliche; He was large, curteys, & fre: Of miche miȝt so was he. Of an vnsele y may ȝou telle, & ȝe wil a stoundeMS. astounde duelle: As he cam fram a turnament Þat was biside Bonevent, In þe bodi wounded he was: Þat sore him greuedThe second e of greued over the line. no wonder it nas. ¶ Þan bithouȝt him þe douk Otoun,MS. of toun. Þat vnwrast was, & feloun, Þat he wald ben awreke þat day Of Gij of Warwike, ȝif he may; For he him wounded in a turnament, As ichaue herd telle verrament; Þer-fore Gij him was swiþe loþ, & wel depe he swore his oþ Þat he of him awreke wald be Er þan he wende out of þat cuntre. When þe douke Otus y-seye þat cas, Þat Gij so sore wounded was, Þerl Lambard he cleped to him (A kniȝt he was stout & grim), & fiftenelooks like fiȝtene kniȝtes in his compeynie, Þat were strong men and hardie. On a dern stede he dede hem hide, Þer as Gij schuld cum ride; 'Lordinges,' þan seyd þe douk Otoun,of toun MS. 'Under-stond to mi resoun: Mine men ȝe beþ & to me swore, Omage ȝe schul me þer-fore. Mine hest ȝe schul ful-fille, Þat ich ȝou bid, wiþ gode wille. Me to wreken ȝe schul go Of a treytour þat is mi fo, Þat is y-comen vp mi lond (Wer he þenkeþ to bring me an hond), Gij of Warwike þat wounded is Wiþ a swerd þurch þe bodi y-wis. On þe halidom ȝe schul me sweri: In þe forest of Pleyns þat is so miri, Þer& þer MS. ȝe schul ȝou al hide, Þer Gij of Warwike schal cum ride: His bodi oliue ȝe schul me bring, And slen his feren eld & ȝing. Y schal him in mi prisoun do; Out no comeþ he neuer mo. Wiþ sorwe and woand wo indis|tinct, but perfectly certain. he schal þer ende: Þennes no schal he neuer wende.' 'Sir,' þai seyd, 'we schul go, & al þine hest we schul do.' Þai dede hem arme swiþe wel Boþe in iren & in stiel; Vnto þe pas þai wenten snelle, & þer þai houed swiþe stille, As Gij schuld cum sone. No wist he nouȝt of þat tresone, No of þat sorwe neuer the mo, Þat him was comand to; For al his felawes þat gode were, Al he for-les hem þere; & his owhen liif he hadde for-lore, No hadde goddes help ben bifore, Þurch þe traitours þat were her fon, Þat kept hem þere for to slon. Now comeþ Gij soft rideing Opon a mulet ambling. His wounde him greueþ swiþe sore, & smert him euer þe lenger þe more. In pais he wende for to wende, Ac þe traitours Lombardes vnhende, Þe helmes þai seyen briȝt schine, Þe stedes nyen, and togider whine. 'God,' quod Gij, 'we ben y-nome! Al we be ded þurch tresone.' Sir Gij of þat mulet aliȝt, & asked his stede, his armes briȝt, & seyd to his felawes snelle, 'Dere we schul our deþlooks like ded with the second d erased. selle. Our deþ is now al bispeke, Bot we ous manliche awreke; Ich kepe him selue, seþþe it so is, & ichil, while y liue, y-wis: So dere so y may, ich wille To þe treytours mi liif selle.' ¶ 'Sir,' seyd Herhaud þo, 'For godes loue hennes þou go. For þine loue we schul her dye, & defende þis pas, y seye: Leuer ous were her-on be ded, Þan þou wer ded in our ferred.' ¶ Þan answerd Gij anon riȝt, As gode kniȝt & ful of miȝt: 'Ȝif ȝe dye, ichilIichil MS. al-so; Nil ich neuer fram ȝou go!' Wiþ þat come a Lombard ride, A modi man & ful of pride. 'Gij,' quod he, 'ȝeld þe anon! Ȝe ben ded now euerichon; To þe douke we han trewþe pliȝt To bring him þi bodi þis niȝt.' With þat ich word wel smert Gij him smot vn-to þe hert; No spard he for no drede, Þat ded he feld him in þe mede. 'Bi þe trewþe y schal mi leman ȝeld, To day no schaltow þi trewþe held!' Anoþer Lombard he smot anon, Þurch þe bodi þe swerd gan gon: 'No þou, treytour, no schalt me lede To þe douke that is ful of qued; To his presoun no worþ y for þe brouȝt.' Herhaud smot anoþer and spared nouȝt Þurch þe bodi his swerd glod, Ded he fel wiþ-outen abod. ¶ Þan com Torald, a gode kniȝt, Swiþe gode & hardi in fiȝt; Wiþ a Lombard þer he mett, & so wele his strok he sett Þat his heued fram þe bodi flei; He ȝede him laweliche neye. Wiþ þat come Urri prikeinde (A better kniȝt no miȝt man finde), A Lombard he smot þo, Þat þurch his bodi þe swerd gan go; So he smot him, for soþ to say, Þat ded he feld him in þe way. Seþþe he seyd, 'þurch no toun Schal ȝe ous lede to no prisoun. Than miȝt men sefi expunged before 8e. fiȝt aginne, Heuedes cleue vnto þe chinne. Euerich þat day þat Gij oftoke, Sone anon his liif forsoke. Sum he smot opon þe hode, At þe girdel þe swerd astode; And sum he smot þurch þe side, Þat miȝt he neuer go no ride. Was þer non that miȝt astond Dint þat come of Gyes hond. So miȝti strokes þer wer ȝiuen, Þat strong schaftes al to-driuen;MS. alto driuen No was þer non in þat ferrede Þat of his liif him miȝt adrede. ¶ Wiþ þat come ride þerl Lambard, A sterne kniȝt and a Lombard; Vrri anon he slouȝ þar, It oþouȝt Gij þo he was war; Wiþ þerl Lambard he wald iusti, & awreke þe gode Vrri. Wiþ swiche hete he smot him to, His armour no was him worþ a slo; Þurch out his hert þe launce he bar, Adoun he feld him ded riȝt þar. Wiþ þat him come forþ Hougoun, Þat was þe doukes neve Otoun: A kniȝt he was of gret miȝt, Swiþe gode & hardi in fiȝt. Toraldtorlard MS. he haþ aqueld; Herhaud anon þat biheld. When Herhaudher herhaud MS. y-seye þis, Þat he doun fel & ded he is, For his deþ he was sori: Him to awreke he haþ gret hy. Neuer ȝete so sori he no was, To-ward Hugoun he made a ras, Als a lyoun he heyed him fast, Þat his prey wold haue on hast. Þurch þe body he him smot Wiþ gret strengþe, god ytot, Þat biforn þe Lombardes alle Of his hors ded he gan falle. ¶ When dan Gauter þat y-seye, To Herhaud he stert wel an heye, And wiþ his swerd he smot him so Þat his hauberk rent ato; Þurch his bodi þat swerd ȝede, Al þai wende þat he wer ded. ¶ When Gij seye Herhaud y-feld, To-hewen his hauberk & his scheld (& of his hors feld he was, As ded man lay on þe gras; He seye þe blod þat cam him fro), Wonder him þouȝt, & seyd þo: 'Þou lording, to þe y sigge, His deþ þou schalt wel sore abigge! So mot ich euer word speke, Mi maisters deþ ichil awreke, & for a couward ich held þe: Þou slouȝ him, & lete me be. Bi him þat made sonne & mone, Þou schalt it wite swiþe sone,MS. sonne. Þat tow schalt it biȝelp nouȝt Þat he is to deþ y-brouȝt.' ¶ Gij wiþ spors smot þe stede, As a man þat hadde nede, Þat fire vnder þe fet aros; Nas þer non þat him agros. Wiþ al his miȝt he smot him to, Wel euen he clef his scheld þo, Þurch his bodi þe swerd he þriste: Þo at arst fiȝt him liste. In þe sond he feld him doun, & bede him Cristes malisoun, For þat he wald Herhaud slen, And lete him oliues ben. ¶ Now is GijMS. repeats is gij, but the second is gij is underdotted. wel hard bifalle, Y-lorn he haþ his felawes alle; So sori he is, he not what to do, He no haþ no wiȝt to bimen him to. Bot þre Lombard[es] oliue þer nere, Opon Gij hastiliche þai were; Þe tvay ben hole & sounde, Þe þridde hadde þurch þe bodi a wounde. ¶ Gij þat on wiþ his swerd rauȝt, His heued of fleye wiþ þat drauȝt. Þan com prikeing dan Gwissard, A duhtti kniȝt and no couward. ¶ 'Gij,' quod he, 'ȝeld now þe! It no may no noþer be: On þe erþe liþe þi scheld to-dreued, Nouȝt o pece is wiþ oþer bileued, & þine helme is al to-hewe,MS. alto hewe. Þine hauberk to-rent þat was newe; & wounded þou art, þou miȝt well se, Long miȝt tow nouȝt oliues be. To day ichil ȝeld þe to þe douk Otoun, & he þe schal do in his prisoun. Þan seyd Gij, 'Gwichard, y nille: To ȝeld me to þe is nouȝt mi wille, Þer-whiles ichaue mi swerd y-grounde, & mi bodi wiþouten wounde.' Gwichard smot Gij wiþ michel miȝt Opon þe helme þat schon so briȝt, Þat a quarter out fleye; Þe kniȝt was boþe queynt & sleye. Opon his scholder þat swerd glod, Of his hauberk it tok a pece brod; God saued Gij þat he nas ded, No for þat dint hadde no qued. When Gij seye him so smite,The i of smite added over the line. He was wroþ, ȝe may wele wite; Gwichard he wald fond to smite Wiþ his swerd þat wold wele bite; To him he smot swiþe smert Þurch þe bodi ful ney þeMS. ney þe þe hert: Þat gode swerd þurchim þrang, Gwichard wald abide nouȝt lang; He turned his stede & gan to fle, & Gij after him, bi mi leute. Gode was þe hors þat Gwichard rod on, & so fast his stede gan gon, Þat Gij miȝt him nouȝt atake, Þer-fore he gan sorwe make. Gwichard fleye in his way Toward Paui, so swiþe he may. Þe douk Otous fram hunting com, & with him erles mani on; A kniȝt he seye cum prikeing, His armes to-rent, his woundes bledeing. Þe douk Otous duelled aþrowe, What he hadde Gwichard y-knowe: Wele he semed man aferd, Þat hard tiding hadde y-herd. Wiþ þat is Gwichard to him come; Þe douke him oxed atte frome, 'Gwichard, who haþ wretþed þe, & where hastow in bateyle be? ¶ Where is Gij? is he nome? Liues or deþ[es] do him come.' 'Ichil ȝou sigge sikerly So michel so y wot of Gij: At a ford we him mett, & strongliche we him bisett, Bot his bodi no nom we nouȝt, Ac al to deþ we ben y-brouȝt; Bot icham passed as ȝe may se.' 'Mi nevou Hougoun, whar is he?' Quod þe douk Otous, 'tel me raþe.' 'Sir, in þe sond he liþe, & þat is scaþe.' '& þerl Lambard, þat gode kniȝt?' 'Ded he liþe in þat fiȝt.' When douk Otus herd þat, Sori he was & no-þing glad: Þat he haþ his folk for-lore, Sorweful man he was þerfore. Neyȝe his hert brast for mode, & for sorweMS. For sorwe &. ȝede ner wode, When he wist his folk y-slawe, & þurch him brouȝt o liueMS. oliue. dawe. NOW haþ Gij miche sorwe made, For his felawes he is vnglade. 'Allas,' quod Gii, 'felawes dere! So wele doand kniȝtes ȝe were. Al to iuel it fel to me, Felice, þo y was sent to serue þe; For þi loue, Felice, the feir may, Þe flour of kniȝtes is sleyn þis day. Ac for þou art a wiman, Y no can nouȝt blame þe for þan; For þe last no worþ y nouȝt Þat wimen han to gronde y-brouȝt. Ac alle oþer may bi me, Ȝif þai wil, y-warned be. Allas, Herhaud, mi dere frende, What þou were curteys & hende! Who schal me now help in fiȝt? Neuer no was no better kniȝt. In ich fiȝt wele halp thou me, Ful iuel ichaue y-ȝolden it þe; For me þou hast þi liif forgon, Of þe no tit me neuer help non. How mai ich now fram þe wende? That y no mai dye þe hende! Acursed be þe Lombardes ichon, That slowen þe, and lete me gon! & þat þai hadde y-slawe me, & leten þe oliue be! Wharto lete þai me alon?' Þus sir Gij biment his mone. ¶ 'Allas! allas! Rohaut, mi lord, Þat y no hadde leued þi word! Þan hadde y nouȝt y-passed þe se, Ich hadde bileued at hom wiþ þe; Þus yuel nere me nouȝt bifalle, Y no hadde nouȝt lorn min felawes alle. Who so nil nouȝt do bi his faders red, Oft-siþes it falleþ him qued; For often ichaue herd it say, & yy illegible in MS. me self it sigge may, "Who þat nil nouȝt leue his fader, He schel leue his steffader." ' What for his woundes þat strong bledeþ, What for his sorwe þat he ledeþ, Al for sorwe & for wo Adoun he fel aswon þo. When he of swoning vp stod, His feren he biheld wiþ drery mod; Þan he lepe opon his stede, To an ermitage he wold ride. 'Ermite,' quod he, 'com wiþ me; Þis hors of priis ȝiue y þe; To bodis þou schalt in erþe graue, Þat in þis forest ben y-slawe.' 'Bleþeliche, sir,' þan seyd he; 'Wende bifore, y folwe þe.' Þe bodis him scheweþ sir Gij, Boþe Toraud & sir Urry. Seþþe he lepe opon his stede, Herhaud he wil wiþ him lede; & so he dede sikerliche, & seþþe he was heled softliche, Ac no for þan Gij wend wele þere Þat Herhaud to deþ y-wounded were. ¶ Now is Gij þennes y-fare; For his felawes he haþ gret care. Herhaudes bodi wiþ him he bar, For he nold it nouȝt lete þar. He went him to an abbay Þat was bisiden on the way. Wiþ þe gode abbot þer he mett, & pitouseliche he him gret: 'Sir abbot, he þe haue & weld, Þat made man wex in-to eld! & for þe loue of þe trinite,The first i in trinite added over the line. Ich þe bidde, par charite, Þat þou þis bodi vnder-fo, & feir biry þou it do. Ful wele y schal ȝeld it þe, & y mot haue hele, & liues be.' 'Who artow?' seyd þe abbot, 'telle it me.' 'Bleþeliche,' seyd Gij, 'bi mi leute: A kniȝt icham of fer cuntre; At a pas asailed wer we Wiþ strong þeues & mani outlawe, Þat mine feren haue y-slawe; & ich me-self am iuel y-wounde, Y wene y liue noMS. originally leue non. stounde; Ac ȝif y liue, y ȝeld it þe, Þe trauail þat tow dost for me.' Þabbot answerd þo: 'Al þi wille it schal be do.' Now goþ Gij sore desmaid, His woundes him han iuel afreyd. To an ermite he is y-go, Þat he was ere aqueynted to; His woundes þer hele he dede Wiþouten noise in that stede. Miche he him dradde þe douk Otoun,MS. of toun. So ful he was of tresoun. ¶ Þabot of whom ich er of teld, On Herhaud he hadde gret rewþe to biheld; He dede beren his body Into a chamber to vnarmy. A monk of þe house biheld him, Bodi & heued & ich a lim. Þilke monk sorgien was, Þe vertu he knewe of mani a gras; Þe wounde he biheld stedefastliche, Þat in his body was so griseliche. Bi the wounde he seye y-wis Þat to þe deþ wounded he nis, & seye þat he hym hele miȝt; & so he dede ful wele, y pliȝt. Bi þe moneþ ende at eue Gij was al hole & toke his leue From þe gode ermite, he went his way Toward Poile, also þe way lay. To þe king he is icome Þat him bede mani warisone, & miche tresour of siluer & of gold; Ac Gij þerof non haue no wold. At ich plas & turnament Gij hadde þe priis verrament. Was þer non in al þat lond, Þat his dent miȝt astond. Þer-fore men loued him swiþe miche, & vnder-fenge him bleþeliche; Alle gode men he was leue & dere, & wiþ hem alle pleye-fere. Atte king he toke leue þo; Into Sessoyne he is ygo. ¶ Now he is comen to þe douk Reyner, Þat him loued and held dere; He him vnder-feng wiþ worþschipe, & dede him miche manschipe. So long in þat cuntre bileued he is, Þat ouer alle oþer he is praised y-wis. Gij him biþouȝt þo Þat he hadde þer y-nouȝ ydo: Into Inglond he wald wende, For to speke wiþ his frende; For it was ago fif ȝer Þat he was last þer; In lasse while þan þat was Might falle mani wonder cas. Þurch cuntres has he hadde y-went, Quens and cuntas him haþ of-sent, Ac non of hem he nold sikerliche Bot Felice þat he loued so miche. What for his miȝt and his godenisse, For his nortour and his largesse, Þer nis kniȝt þat so miche preysed be Unto Antiage, þat riche cite. ¶ Gij him spedde niȝt & day; Into Inglond he toke þe way. Of Gij ichil lete now, And more after y schal tel ȝou; Of Herhaud ichil telle astounde Þat wele is heled of his wounde. When he feld him hole & fere, Of þabot he tok his leue þer; His lord Gij he goþ secheing Niȝt & day, him for to finde: Toward Inglond he tok his way, Crist him saue, so wele he may! At a pinacle bi þe se Gij seye a man of rewly ble Go in pilgrims wede: Þat was Herhaud, so god me spede! Gij him cleped wel swiþe to him, & seyd, 'wen comestow, pilgrim?' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'y com fram Lombardy, Of hard y-schapedOf hardschipe? for þe maistrie; . . . . . . . . . . & lorn ichaue mi kinde lord: Gode kniȝt he was and bold. Bitraid ous hadde þe douk OtounMS. of toun.: Haue he Cristes malisoun! In þis wise ichil go, & bid for mi lord euer mo.' 'Pilgrim, say me trewelich, What hete þe man þou loued so miche?' 'Gij of Warwike was his name: A kniȝt he was wiþ-outen blame.' Wiþ þat he gan to sike sore, & wepe wiþ his eyȝen þerfore; He him miȝt no lenge at-held. Gij him gan reweliche biheld: 'Gode man,' quod Gij, 'for þi leute, What is þi name? telle thou me.' 'Herhaud of Ardern, bi mi leute, Ich was y-born in þat cuntre; Fif ȝer þus ichaue y-go To seche Gij y loued so.' When Gij herd Herhaud speke, Him thouȝt his hert wald to-breke, & in his armes he haþ him take, & gret ioie wiþ him gan make; Him he kist wel mani siþe: For ioie he wepe, so was he bliþe. 'Hayl, Herhaud, maister min! No knowestow nouȝt norri þine?' 'Certes,' quod Herhaud, 'sir, nay: Ded he was for mani a day.' He him answerd, 'icham Gij!' 'Sir,' quod Herhaud, 'merci!' Sone so Herhaud vnder-stode Þat it was Gij þat was so gode, For ioie he fel aswon anon; Gij him in his armes nome. Þer men miȝt se ioie make Aiþer kniȝt for oþer sake; Þer nas non þat it y-seye, Þat he no wepe wiþ his eyȝe. ¶ Adoun þai sett hem boþe þare, & aiþer teld of oþeres care. Sir Gij haþ Herhaud y-teld Hou he him ladde out of þe feld, For to birry him at on abbay Þat was bisiden on þe way. & seþþenn on erasure. haþ Herhaud y-teld Hou his woundes weren y-heled, And þat mani lond he hadde ouergo, To seche his lord wiþ sorwe & wo. On hors þai lopen anon wiþ þis Vnto a cite wiþ ioie and blis; Þan dede Gij Herhaud baþey & wiþ riche metes comforti. From þennes þai went to þe douk Miloun, And to him þai ben ful welcome; Of her auentours þai teld him þere: Hou þo was gode þat wicke was ere! Þer þai maden her dueling Long anouȝ to her likeing. ¶ At the douke þai token leue þo, For in-to Inglond þai wald go. Þe douke hem wald lenger duelle, Ac it nas no-thing in her wille Þer to bileue wiþ him no more, & þat biþouȝt þe douke wel sore. Toward Seynt OmerMS. seyntomer. he is y-go, Herhaud þe gode wiþ him also; Toward þe se þai token her way, So swiþe her hors hem bere may. When þai ben to toun y-come, Her in þai han sone y-nome. To a windowe sir Gij is go, In-to þe strete he loked þo; A palmer he seȝe cominge, Messaisliche bi þe strete walkinge. To him haþ y-cleped sir Gij, & curteysliche gan him axi, 'Weltow herberwe? for it is niȝt; For ferþer go þou no miȝt.' Þe pilgrim answerd Gij, 'Swete sir, gramerci!' Gij doþ him þan bileue, Ferþer he no may, for it was eue; & seþþe he badde he schuld him say Sum soþ tidinges of þe way, Ȝif he herd neye oþer fer Speken of batayle & of wer. 'Ichil þe telle,' he seyd, 'fot hot Of al þe wer þat y wot: Þerof is mani man aferd; Of stronger sorwe no haue ȝe herd.' ¶ Gij seyd to him, 'telle it me.' 'For soþe y graunt,' þan seyd he. Of Almaine þe riche emperour, Reyner, þat weldeþ þat anour, Þe douke of Lowayn hehe dotted before he. haþ bisett, His men slain, & þat is vnnett; For his nevou þat he slouȝ, Wiþ wer he doþ him wo anouȝ. Almost a ȝer it is ago, A turnament þer was y-do; Þe douke Segyn was þer þo, Þat al LowaynMS. alowayn. bilongeþ to, Wiþ hisþe? kniȝtes of his lond, Þider come her miȝt to fond. When þe turnament com to þende, Þe douke Segyn þennes wald wende: Wiþ þat come Sadokon erasure. prikeing, Þe douke Segyn vnder-secheing; Wiþ þe douke he hadde gret envie, For he was gode kniȝt for þe maistrie. Sadok was y-hoten þat gome, Out of Mirabel he was y-come; Of turnamens he was praised þo. His hauberk was of y-do; In sengle armes he was y-diȝt. Y-preysed he was for a gode kniȝt. To þe douke he seyd, 'wende tow þe; Ones þou schalt justi wiþ me, As kniȝt that wele alosed is; Sone it worþ sen y-wis.' 'Sadok,' seyd Segyn, 'lete me be, Wiþ gode loue y pray þe; Wiþ þe to justi haue y no wille, For y þe loue, and þat is skille, & to eken þat þou art mi lordes nevou: His soster sone so artow; Unworþschip it wer to me Ȝif y schuld iusti wiþ þe. Ac go in, and arme þe snelle, And y com anon, y nil nouȝt duelle.' Seyd Sadok, 'to arwe artow, When ones justi no darstow now. Now ichil þe for a couward held, & for a kniȝt vnwrast in feld: Bot þou wilt wiþ me justi, IchilMS. Iichil. þe don a vilani. Hennes forward war þe fro me, Þi dedliche fo ichil now be!' Now Sadok smot to Segyn, & nothing he no spared him; Sadok toforn haþ him smete Of his scheld a quarter wiþ gret hete, Þat he him wounded þurch þat arm, & he him wreþed for that harm; So strong is þat strok y-ȝiue, Þat his helme is al to-driue. Þe douke him wreþþed for þat smite, & was ful wroþ, ȝe mow wele wite, & þurch þe bodi he Sadok smot, Þat ded he fel doun fot hot. Wiþ þat he is out of the place y-went, For þer was ȝiuen a sorwe-ful dent. With him he dede þat bodi lede Unto an abbay, and biri it dede. Þe douke Segin anon riȝt Into the cite of Arrascoun him haþ y-diȝt: Þer-in he holt him soiourninge For drede of þemperours cominge. ¶ & when þemperour herd þis cas, Þat his nevou y-slawe was, Ouer al his lond his hest he bede To com to him for grete nede. & when þai al icomen beþ, Þe douke of Lowayn he sege deþ; No wil he neuer þennes come, Er the douke be ded or nome.' When þe pilgrim hadde al y-teld, Gij him herkened & biheld; He stont & biþouȝt him ȝerne, Wheþer he forþ go oþer oȝain terne. He seyd to Herhaud, 'what rede [ȝe]? Sum gode conseyl ȝif þou me, Ȝif we forþ in our wai go, Oþer to þe douke him socour to do. Þat tow me redest, don y wille; Þi conseyl forsake y nille.' ¶ Þan seyd Herhaud i-wis, 'Y ȝif conseyl, & gode it is; Hem to help men schul spede Þat to help han gret nede. For los and priis þou miȝt þer winne, & manschip to þe & al þi kinne.' 'Sir Herhaud,' quod Gij þe gode, 'Þilke lord þat died on rode Þe blisse, & saue þe, For gode conseyl ȝif[es]tow me.' Gij him graiþed & made him ȝare Into LoweyneMS. loreynie. for to fare; & wiþ him oþer fifti kniȝt, In feld þe best þat miȝt fiȝt. Y-comen þai ben to Arascoun, To þe douke þai ben wel-com. In þe cite þai han her in y-take; Mani wer bliþe for her sake. Gij bi þe morwe aros þo, Riȝt to chirche he is y-go: Matins & masse he herd þere, & seþþe went hom wiþ his fere. Bi þe strete he seye miche folk erne, Hemself to were þai most lerne. Sir Gij to his ost sede, 'What is al þis? so god þe rede, Bele ost,ost added over the line. y bidde, say þou me, What may al þis erning be?' 'Sir, ichil þe telle,' þan seyd he, 'No word nil ich lyȝe þe; It is þemperours steward, A gode kniȝt and no coward (Anon to Speyne his better nis), & with him gret compeynie y-wis, An hundred kniȝtes gode of ker, Her better no may wepen ber. Þe cite þai han bisett: Ȝif ani kniȝt be out y-mett, He no mai nouȝt passe vn-y-nome, Oþer y-slayn atte frome.' Þan seyd Gij, 'lordinges, kniȝt, Oȝains hem we wil ous diȝt.' Sone þai ben in þe way y-don. Þe steward seþ hem anon: Þider-ward he him diȝt, Also a kniȝtMS. akniȝt. of gret miȝt. His armes þan he ginneþ riȝt, Oȝaines Gij he ritt apliȝt; Anon to-gider þai gun smite, Aiþer spard oþer bot lite. Gij þe steward so hard smot, Of his stede he feld him fot hot; Þan he smot him wiþ his swerd broun A quarter of his helme adoun. Þurch grete strengþe he him wan, & hom wiþ him ladde him þan. When þe Almaines þat y-seye Þat strong wer, and of fiȝt sleye, Her lord nomen in þat fiȝt, Owai þai priked wiþ al her miȝt. Þer was þirled mani a scheld,MS. ascheld. Mani a kniȝt lay in þe feld; Gij is oȝain went wel sone, & al his feren mid-y-done. Þe LombardesAlmaines? þai leggen fast opon, Nil þai spare neuer on. When þe kniȝtes of þat cite Þis dede alle y-seyȝen he, To army he[m] wel fast hy goþ, Gij wel gode socour hij doþ; & seþþen þai went forþ ariȝt, & Gij socourd ful wele apliȝt. Swiche strokes men miȝt þer se Togider smiten þo kniȝtes fre: Boþe wiþ launce and wiþ swerd Thai ȝiuen mani strokes herd. Þer miȝt men se stray þe steden, So mani kniȝt cri & greden, Þat wer þurch þe bodi wounde, & ded fellen on þe grounde. ¶ Michel him peyned sir Gij, & Herhaud of Ardern sikerly: Þis Almayns þai han ouercome, Sum y-slawe and sum y-nome. Þan sir Gij anon riȝt Into þe cite he him diȝt, Boþe he & his ferred: Þe prisouns wiþ hem þai lede. Into þe cite þai ben y-gon, & to her innes þai wenten ichon. Proude þai ben alle & some Þat þe Almains ben ouer-come, When þe douke yherd þis tidinge, For blis his hert bigan to springe, Þat Gii of Warwike was y-come & hadde þe steward y-nome. On his stede he lepe anon, To Gyes in he is y-gon; 'Gij,' he seyd, 'þou art welcome, As of the warld þe best gome. Toforn al oþer ichaue desired þe: God y-thanked mot he be Þat tow art come wiþ me to ben at nede, For now ich worþ þe more loued & drede Al of mi dedelich fo, Þat al þis lond haþ brouȝt in wo. Sire & lord now ichil make þe Of mi court and of mi cite, Mine castels & mine londes þer-to eke; & hennes forward y þe biseke Þatow þe worþschipe vnder-fo, & þine hest þerof þou do. Bi þi conseyl ichil nov don, For to greue mioriginally Þi, but crossed out and mi written over it in the same hand. dedli fon.' ¶ Wel curteysliche answerd Gij & seyd, 'sir, gramerci. Bi mi miȝt ichil help þe On ich stede where þat y be.' Þe steward he ȝelt him þan swiþe, Of whom þat he was glad & bliþe; Þurch him he wende acorded be Of þemperour, his lord so fre. Bitvene hem þai tolden tale Of her gode frendes fale. Now sent Gij his sondes about, Ȝepe men wiþ-outen dout, To cuntres þat he haþ þurch-went. Grete frendes he haþ of-sent, Of barouns and of kniȝtes beld Þe best þat miȝt wepen weld, Bi hundred and bi þousinde, Þat al wil ben his helpinde. Þe castels and þe borwes þat lorn were, Þe douke oȝain wan hem þere Þurch Gyes help & his ferrede, Þat wele wer helpeand at nede, Bi him & bi his conseyl also, Þat þennes forward him treweþe wil do. ¶ When þemperour yherd þis, Þat Gij to þe douke ycomen is, & þat he haþ his men ouercome, Y-slawe & his steward nome, Wroþ & sori he is þer-fore, Þat he haþ so his men forlore. To his barouns þan he sede: 'Lordinges, what schal me to rede? Neuer no worþ ich glad no bliþe, Bot ich be awreken swiþe Of Segyn & Gij þat is our fo, Þat mi folk haþ brouȝt in wo.' 'Sir,' the douk Paui sede, 'Ther-of þarf þe haue no drede. Ar þe þridde day worþ to ende y-brouȝt, Þat play worþ wel dere abouȝt; For of þine folk take we wille, Þat gode ben & snelle, Þe best doand at swiche nede Wiþ scheld & spere armed on stede: Of Sessoine þe douke Reyner, & þe constable Gaudiner, & ich wiþ hem wil be, & gret ferred lede wiþ me. To Arascoun we schul fare, Ȝif we þe douk finde þare. Bot we þe treytours þe ȝelde, We wil þatow in prisoun ous held. ¶ Þemperour answerd: 'y-wis, A gode conseyl so is þis. Sir douk Reyner, þou schalt go, & þou, constable, al-so; Al-so schal þe douke of Pauie Wiþ his grete cheualrie To Arascoun, þat gode cite: Þe douke & Gij bring to me. Who so to me bring hem to, Mi loue he schal haue for euer mo.' 'Sir,' þai seyd, 'we willen go Al þine hest for to do.' Now hij han her way y-nome, To Arascoun þat ben y-come. When þai of þe cite wist hem þare, Oȝaines hem þai diȝt hem ȝare; Hastiliche to armes þai ben y-go, Kniȝtes and squiers wiþ hem also. When þai wer al redi,MS. alredi & wele y-diȝt in her parti, Þe douke cleped Herhaud him to, & swetely seyd to him þo: 'Sir Herhaud, þou schalt afong Four hundred kniȝtes wiȝt and strong (Þou schalt ȝif þe first asaut Opon þe Almaundes, sir Herhaud); & þou, sir Gij, an hundred to þe Of mi londe þat best be; And ȝif þat Herhaud haue nede, Him to help þatow spede, & ichil com wiþouten delay Wiþ al þe strengþe þat y may. Togider wiþ hem we schul fiȝt, & hem ouer-com þurch godes miȝt. As ichaue seyd, loke ye don, & goþ and asaileþ hem anon.' Herhaud ginneþ hem to asaily.MS. originally asaile. Þat fiȝt he wil comenci. Of þe douk Otus Herhaud is vnder-nome In þe alder first scheltrome; His fo he is euen forþ his miȝt, For he it haþ deserued þurch riȝt. Herhaud him seyd, 'Otus of Pauie, Understond tow of þat felonie Þat tow in Lombardi ous dedest, When þou mi lord betreydest. Wele we schul þer-of awreke be, Ȝif god wil, er þe sonne doun te.' ¶ Otus answerd, 'þou lexst on me, & þat y schal sone kiþe þe; Gret scorn is here so y go, Y warn þe icham þi fo.' Togider þai smiten wiþ gode wille, Þat boþe of her hors adoun felle; & after þai drouȝ her swerdes newe, Wiþ gret envie to-gider þai hewe. Þe douk him wereþ miȝtliche, Herhaud him asaileþ strongliche; Þurch þe feld he goþ him driueinde. Wiþ þat com his folk prikeinde, & her lord rescuweþ þere; Herhaud to nim angwisous þai were. Herha . . . . . Wiþ þ . . . . . Wiþ [s]The letters in brackets only partially left. . . . . . Herh . . . . . Þan . . . . . Non . . . . . Miche . . . . . To þe . . . . . Mo þ . . . . . Þat d . . . . . Þe do . . . . . He seye . . . . . He seyd . . . . . Lordin . . . . . No se ȝ . . . . . Þat d[o] . . . . . Þat ha . . . . . Ȝour f . . . . . Bot ȝe of [h] . . . . . Mi loue n . . . . . Wiþ þat [þ] . . . . . & to Herha . . . . . Þer is Her . . . . . When he h[a] . . . . . Ac recouer . . . . . For gret [s] . . . . . Herhaud [þ] . . . . . Ac he him . . . . . When Gij [s] . . . . . & out of . . . . . His helme . . . . . & his scheld . . . . . & his hors . . . . . In strong . . . . . Wiþ loude . . . . . To þe douk[e] . . . . . He rescuw[e] . . . . . Þe oþer þai . . . . . Ac when [s?] . . . . . Arnend he . . . . . Wiþ loude [v?] . . . . . To þe douk [o] . . . . . Þou fals wr . . . . . Wel litel þou þ(?) . . . . .leaf 118r b and 118v a torn off. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [the first 11 lines of leaf 118v b. entirely gone] . . . . . . . . . . [o]n . . . . . . . . . . falle . . . . . . . . . . stiel . . . . . [h]ond . . . . . d . . . . . [R]eyner . . . . . er . . . . . es fere . . . . . . . . . . ori . . . . . . . . . . n . . . . . broun . . . . . on . . . . . non . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . tede . . . . . . . . . . me . . . . . [o]me . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [f]leinge . . . . . [d]riueinge . . . . . ode gome . . . . . e . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . fro . . . . . to do . . . . . t . . . . . d sket . . . . . oȝe . . . . . [þ] me . . . . . . . . . . omen ichon Or ichil telle þemperour Ȝe han y-don him gret deshonour, When ȝe for a fewe men Schul so sone oway flen.' Þai turned hem anon riȝt, & bi-gun a newe fiȝt. Al togider þai gun smite; SemblantSlemblant MS. of loue þai kidde bot lite. Heteliche to him smot Gyoun; His scheld nas nouȝt worþ a botoun, No his tvifold armes halp him nouȝt Þat in Loreyn weren y-wrouȝt. Strokes hij togider delden ywis On helmes & on briȝt scheldes; So hard þai striken hem bitvene, Þat gode stones fallen þer ben. Aiþer semed a lyoun of mode, So hard þai smiten wiþ swordes gode. Wiþ him smot þe douke Segyn, No lenge miȝt he wiþhelden him; Togider þai smiten hard and wel Wiþ brondes wele wrouȝt of stiel. Wiþ þat come prikeand Tirri, Of Gurmoise þerl sone Aubri; Wel sternliche he smitt a kniȝt, Þat ded he fel anon riȝt. So sone so douke Segyn seþ þis, Wel wroþ he was wiþ him y-wis; Wroþlich he seyd to Gij, 'Here is gret scorn sikerly, When þat olepi kniȝt Schal ous do so michel vnriȝt, & þan wiþ his saut owai flen.' Gij answerd, 'turn we oȝen, & hardiliche aseyl we hem: Anon turn we oȝen.' Þe Almauns þai go to asayl Wiþ gret strengþe in batayl; Sorweful of hem was þe meteinge Wiþ brondes of stiel wele kerueinge. Anon þe Almaundes gin flen, & þe oþer turnen oȝen. Þe douk Segyn oȝain come, Riȝt to his cite þe way he nome, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . & Gij afterward wiþ him is go, & eke his feren also. Wiþ hem þai habben her prisouns, Doukes, erls, & barouns; Wel glad & bliþe þan ben he, & al þat weren in þat cite. To her innes þai ben y-gon, Wel glad ben hij euerichon. Þe douke goþ in-to þe tour: His prisouns he doþ gret anour, Þerl Reyner of Sessoyne, & þerl Gaudiner of Coloyne, & wiþ hem þe stewerd, Þat gode kniȝt was & wel y-herd. Wiþ him eten he hem dede, & more þan himself hem worþschipede. Þe douke his soster cleped him to, Þe fairest maiden þat miȝt go. 'Þe prisouns þou nim to þe, In þi chamber wiþ þe to be; In þi chaumberthe u has a stroke too much. kepes me Þis gentil kniȝtes hende & fre; & ouer alle oþer þe douke Reyner: In hert he is me lef & dere.' 'Sir,' sche seyd, 'ichil so Hem to kepe my miȝt y-do.' ¶ Ac þe riche emperour fre, Of þis comberment nist he. Wiþ a kniȝt he pleyd atte ches Of Hungri, þat he loved y-wis. Wiþ þat com Tirri prikeinge, In his fest his brond bereinge: His hauberk was al to-tore, & his nasel avaled bifore. Þurch his bodi þe blod ran; Tirri made no semblaunt of þan; His strong scheld al to-hewenMS. alto hewen. was, Nouȝt a fot hole þer-ofMS. of þer. nas. ¶ 'Emperour,' he seyd, 'vnder-stond to me: Hard tidinges may y telle þe Of þine barouns þat y-nome be; No schal þai neuer com to þe. Sum be ded & brouȝt to grounde, & sum be nomen, & sum be wounde: Y-nomen is þe douk Reyner, & þe constable Gaudiner; Þe douke of Pauie wounded is Wiþ a swerd þurch þe bodi y-wis: Of þe deþ he drat him sore, Hele no worþ him neuer more.' When þemperour herd þo What þerl Tirri seyd him to, Wel sori he was, & wroþ þer-fore, Þat neyȝe he haþ his witt forlore. Y-sworn he haþ a wel gret oþ Bi god almiȝti al for-soþ, Þat neuer bliþe no worþ he, Al what þat cite y-nomen be, & þat þenot quite distinct. traitours ben y-slawe, Oþer for-brent, oþer y-flawe. ¶ Hisost underdotted. heste he dede cri anon, His men to arme hem euerichon; His scheltromes anon he diȝt, & redi þai ben al to fiȝt. Þe feldes þai ben sone ouer-gon Þat were þe tounes bisiden on, Al what hij comen to þe cite. GaierGaier on an erasure. þan forþ ȝede he Wiþ fif hundred armed kniȝtes, Hardi & wele doand in fiȝtes. Þo þat weren in þe cite, On þe Almaynes bihelden he, & seye þe cuntres & al þe feldes, Wiþ white hauberkes & wiþ scheldes. Þe douke him com forþ wiþ þat, Wele y-armed on stede he sat: 'Gij,' he seyd, 'what schal we do? Ȝif we go & smite hem to, Or we gon our walles to were, Þat þe Almayns ous nouȝt dere?' Þan spac Sir Gij fot hot, 'Wele schaltow do, for-soþe y wot: Nim we now an hundred kniȝtes, & go asayl hem anon riȝtes. Bifor þe cite y se stond here Gaier, þemperour sone Reyner, & fif hundredoriginally hundered, but the first e under|dotted. kniȝtes in her ferred, Wele y-armed on heye stede. Biforn her ost þei ben y-comen, Angwisous ous to nimen; & ȝif we habbeþ gret nede, Oȝain-ward we mai ous spede.' Anon þai nomen an hundred kniȝtes, Hardi & of most miȝtes; Þai wenten out of þat cite, Wel modi men weren he. Wiþ þe Almauns þai wil iusti, Nil hii nouȝt wiþ hem acordi; Togider þai smiten hard & swiþe, Of hors þai fellen mani a siþe. ¶ Sir Gij him smot to Gaier, & feld him doun of his destrer, & seþþen he wan him in þat fiȝt; Þe oþer oway flowenoriginally blowen. anon riȝt. Toward þe ost þai flowen snelle, Þe hete was swiþe strong wiþ alle. Mani þai nomen & bounden fast, & ladde into þe cite on hast. When þai of þe ost y-seye þis, Þat her folk ouercomen is, & þat was in þat fiȝt y-nome Gaier, þat was þemperour sone, Þanan not quite distinct. hastiliche þe ost ichon Opon Segyn þat smiten anon. Þer bigan a newe fiȝt, Whar-þurch died mani a kniȝt. On aiþer side mani on dyed y-wis; Ac þe douke wers bifallen is, For miche of his folk he les. Al auntreousliche þer he comen wes. Þurch pride þan ferd he Fram his ost, and fram his cite. Wele hii deden no þe les, He and Gii þat miȝti wes, & wiþ hem Herhaud of Arderne; To hem þai smiten swiþe ȝerne.originally ȝernne, but the second n under|dotted. ¶ Wiþ þat com prikeing Tirri, Þat gode kniȝt was & hardi; To þe douk Segyn he smot, & of his hors feld him fot hot; Ac þe douk anon vp stert, As he þat was agremed in hert, & out he drouȝ his swerd of stiel, & defended him swiþe wel. Whom þat he rauȝt, ded he fel; Strong kniȝt he was, hardi & snel. Þer he defended him asperliche; Þe Almaunis him asayl hastiliche: Y-loken he was hem amidwerd, To him þai launced boþe spere and swerd. In mani stede wounded is he; Wele he werþe him þei he sailed be. When Gij seye þe douke of fot, For sorwe no wist he no bot; Wel hardiliche he smot a kniȝt, Þat ded he feld him anon riȝt. His swerd of stiel he haþ up pliȝt, & smot so anoþer kniȝt Þat asailed þe douke Segin, Þat heued sone binam him, & seþþe he sett him his stede opon, & fast hii asailed her fon; . . . . . . . . . . Þennes nil hii neuer gon Er hii han slawe mani on. ¶ 'Sir douk,' seyd Gyoun, 'Vnderstond to mi resoun: To þe cite oȝain we wil go, Ful wele we may it now do; A þousand þer beþ of armed kniȝtes Þat sone wiþ ous wil holde fiȝtes; & we here lenger duelle For foles we schullen ous telle.' Into her cite þai ben y-gon, Togider þai asembled hem ichon, & at þe alours þaii on an erasure. defended hem, & abiden bataile of her fomen. ¶ When þemperour y-herd þis, Þat his sone y-nomen is, Wiþ loude steuen þan hete he His folk asayl þat cite Wiþ schot of bowe and alblast, Wiþ swerdes, speres schete & cast, Wiþ laddren steye, þat couþe best. Þe cite to asail haue þai no rest, Wiþ stones & mangunels fast to cast: Þe fair walles al to-dast.MS. alto dast. & hii wiþ-in fended hem wele apliȝt, & hii wiþ-outen ȝeld hem gret fiȝt; Þe Almayns þat ilke day þere Wiþ gret sorwe y-slawe were. Strongliche þai asail þe cite, Ac þat day noþing no speden he; At euen þat wiþ-drouȝ hem oȝan. Þemperour was þer-fore a soriMS. asori man, Þat he no miȝtnomight MS., not nought. of þat cite spede, No awreken him for no nede. Þe cite ich day what niȝt Þai asailed wiþ gret miȝt; Ac þe douk, Gij, and Herhaud, Oft hem makeþ mani asaut, & miche of his folk þan slouȝ hii, Wharfore he was in hert sori. Lordinges, listeneþ to me now! Of a tresoun ichil telle ȝou: It was opon a somers day, Þemperour hadde eten, soþ to say; His huntes he of-sent þo,þo altered from so. & seyd he wald on hunting go Into þe forest erlike, Þat þe douk Segyn nouȝt no wite, No his kniȝtes neuer þe mo. Þat him herd a spie þo, Þat out of þat ost dede him fast, To þe douke Segyn he com an hast. ¶ Þe douke Segyn oxed him snelle What newe tidinges he couþe telle: 'Sir,' quod [hehe omitted in MS.], 'herken to me: Gode tidinges y telle þe, Þat þemperour, sikerliche, Wille huntte to morwe arliche In his forest priueliche Wiþ litel folk & nouȝt wiþ miche, Wiþ also litel als he may. Y no gabbe nouȝt, for soþe to say.' Þan he hade seyde þus to Segyn, 'Bi Seyn Richer! leue frende mine,' Seyd þe douke, 'and it so be, An hundred bessauns ȝif y þe.' Þe spie seyd, 'soþe y sigge: My bodi þerfore in ostage y legge.' ¶ Þan haþ þe douk y-cleped Gij, & Herhaud of Arderne sikerlij, Dan Belin, & dan Gauter, & þe þridde dan Holdimer, & Joceran þat was of Speyne (Was non wiser in-to Almayne A gode conseyl for to ȝiue; Þer-fore he was michel to leue). 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'what rede ȝe, Seþþe þat ȝe be sworn to meMS. tome? What is ous best for to done Of our king Reyner? telle me sone.' Gij to him answerd snelle, 'Þe best rede ichil þe telle: Kniȝtes we schul han a þousinde, & bi þe morwe, ȝif we him finde, Ichil him bidde wiþ hert fre Þat he wil acord wiþ þe, & þat he cum wiþ þe at ete; & ȝif he seyþ ouȝt wiþ hete, Þat he it wil graunt for no þing, Hider we schul bring þe king. & þou schalt here bileue now, Opon þi lord go no schaltow; Þi palays þou schalt grayþi, & riche metes diȝt redi.' Þe douk answerd anon riȝt: 'So help me god, ful of miȝt, Also þou wilt, þou schalt do.' Wiþ þat is Gij þennes y-go; In-to þe way he dede him anon Þer þemperour schuld forþ gon. Þemperour bi þe morwe aros, Into his forest he rideþ & gos: A gret bore þai founden, y-wis, & hij vncopled her houndis; Her hornes þai blewe loude & stille,schrille? Her houndes vrn wiþ gode wille. ¶ Þemperour biheld sone wiþ þan Unto a dicheMS. adiche þat water in ran; He seyd, 'y-treyst we ben here: Sir Tirri, mi frende dere, No sestow houMS. ȝou þat ȝonder ride Kniȝtes? þai ben of gret pride. On ich halue bisett we beþ, Nis her nouȝt bot þe deþ. Felawes þai be þe douke Segyn, Whom þat god ȝif iuel fin! Gij of Warwike þer y sey, Y-armed on his stede an hey.' 'Sir emperour,' quod Tirri anon, 'For þe rode loue þat god was on don, Ich þe bidde, hennes go now, For godes loue no lenge bileue þou! & ichil here bileuen ay, & ȝif ich Gij mete may, Wiþ meschaunce y schal him gret, & al his feren þat y mete. Ar ich be ded or nomen be Þou schalt passe al þis cuntre.' Þemperour seyd, 'for soþe, y nille: Here ichil wiþw in wiþ altered from ȝ. ȝou duelle.' Hastiliche þai armed hem anon, & lepe her gode stedes opon. ¶ Wiþ þat come Gij prikeinde, & a smal tvige in his hond bereinde Of oliue, in token of pais: To þemperour he grad as curteys, & seyd, 'god, þat alle þing may se, Sir emperour, so loke þe Þiselue, & al þi meyne, Þat in place wiþ þe be! Þe douke Segyn þe sent bi me Þat trewþe & loue he wil to þe, & biddeþ þe als his lord dere, Þeselue, & alle þine fere, Þat wiþ þe ben togider here, Þat ȝe come to him to þe dinere; And his gode cite he wil þe ȝelde Wiþ al his castels he haþ in welde; & ȝif he haue don oȝain skille, He wille amende it to þi wille.' ¶ When þemperour herd him speke so, & so gret loue bede him to, Þe king of Hongrieo in Hongrie altered from u. he cleped þo, And sir Tirri he dede also: 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'what schal we do? Rede ȝe þat we þider go?' Þ . . . . .[A leaf lost: only the capital let|ters of about a third of first page, first col., left.] Þ . . . . . W . . . . . Þ . . . . . H . . . . . Þ . . . . . T . . . . . W . . . . . Ȝ . . . . . M . . . . . Y . . . . . F . . . . . 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'Sir emperour, wat hastow do? Is þe acord made bitven ȝou to? Astow þe douke Segyn y-kist, Þe strong traitour & vnwrest? & haþ for-ȝif al in loue Sadok deþ, þi suster sone? Þat þe wil dred, say me on; Þe misdo þai willen ichon; When her wretþe and her gilt So liȝtliche for-ȝif þou wilt, Hennes forward wil þe dred non, Schame anouȝ þai wil þe don; & ȝif þou haddest þe douk anhong, In þi lond men woldMS. wil þe dred strong, & þan after-ward þe treytour Gij, Þat neuer dede ous bot vilayni. Ac now þai worþ wiþ þe priue, & better þan alle we. & topen al þis, ȝif Gij wer ded, We miȝten haue þe lesse dred.' When Gij herd Otus speke so, Als a wilde bore he lepe him to: 'Otus!' quaþ Gij, 'þou schalt daye, When þou of tresoun clepes ous baye, Boþe Segyn & eke me: Þou it schal abie, bi mi leute!' Him he smot wiþ his fest Amide the teþ, riȝt al inal in on an erasure. ernest. Ac þe barouns bitvene hem goþ, & þemperour swore his oþ, Ȝif ani þer were so hardy Þat dede oþer schame oþer vilanie, Bren men him scholde, oþer to-hewe,a letter erased before hewe. Oþer al to-heweto-drawe? at wordes fewe. Þan doþ þai crie þurch þe cuntraye, Þat of þo wordes no man schuld saye; '& ȝif þer doþ, wiþ-outen no, Hond oþer fot he schal for-go.' ¶ Than seyd þemperour on þis maner To þe douke Segyn oforn hem þer: 'Sir douke, ichil loue þe: Wiif þou schalt haue bi me. A feir soster ich haue in mi bour Ichil þe ȝif,' quaþ þemperour: 'Erneborwe hat þat may.' Anon he hir spoused þat day. Þe bridale was holden wiþ game, y pliȝt. Neuer ȝet nas non fairer in siȝt. He loued hir, & worþ-schiped swiþe: To his cite he ladde hir siþe, He and Ernneborwe his leuedi Þer hii wold soiornij.MS. soiormij Anon after þe tende day Of her soiourn, soþe to say, ¶ Gij is to þe douke y-go, & at him asked leue þo: 'Sir douk,' he seyd, 'gon ich-ille, In þis cuntre bileue y nille. In wer ich haue serued þe: Ȝif þou haue euer eft nede to me, After me þou sende sikerliche, & ich com to þe hastiliche.' 'Sir,' quaþ þe douk, 'gramerci! Ȝete haue y nouȝt serued þe, sir Gij. Here, ich bid þe, bileue wiþ me: Half mine castels, & half mi cite, Þe worþschip of Lowayn haluen-del, Ich it þe graunt, Gij, fair & wel.' Gij tok his leue; oway went he: Þe douke wepe sore, & hadde pite. Þemperour þat was so fre, Wiþ him Gij þan ladde he; Castels him bede, & cites, Gret worþschip, & riche fes, Ac he þerof nold afo, For noþing þat he miȝt do. To Almayn went ben he, To Espire þat riche cite. ¶ Þemperour worþschiped Gij þe fre; A while wiþ him bileft he. To pleyn hem þai went bi riuer Þat of wilde foule ful were; To her wille an hunting hij gos, To chace þe hert & þe ros. On a day as he cam fram hunting A dromond he seye ariueing. Þider-ward sir Gij is y-gon, & gret þe marchandes euerichon. 'Lordinges, whennes com ȝe, Þat in þis riuer ariued be? Bi ȝour semblant y se, y-wisse, Þat ȝe ledde gret richesse.' Among hem alle þer spac on, Þat couþe speke for hem euerichon: 'Fram Costentine þe noble y-comen we be: Lond of peys þan seche we. Marchandes we ben of þat lond, & out y-driuen wiþ michel wrong: Out of Coyne þe riche soudan, So prout he is, & of so gret boban, Þat wiþ .xv. heþen kinges, & þritti emeraus, wiþ-outen lesinges, ¶ In Costentyn þe noble emperour Ernis Þai han strongliche bisett, y-wis. Castel no cite nis him non bileued, Þat altogider þai han to-dreued, & for-brant, & strued, y-wis. Into Costentyn flowen he is; Þer he werþ him oȝaines his fon, Þat secheþ on him for to slon. Þritti mile men may riden & gon, Ne schal men finde man non; & we ben aschaped vnneþe, Þat we no were to-hewen to deþe. Y-comen we ben into þis cuntre: Fowe & griis anouȝ lade we, Gold and siluer, & riche stones, Þat vertu bere mani for þe nones, Gode cloþes of sikelatoun & Alisaundrinis, Peloure of Matre, & pu[r]per & biis, To ȝour wille as ȝe may se; Swiche be þe tidinges of þat cuntre.' Gij answerd, 'mi frende fre, For ȝour tidinges blisced ȝe be! God, for his name seuene, He bring ȝou to gode heuene!' When þe marchaundes hadde seyd as y say, Gij bitauȝt hem god & gode day.a altered from e. Vnto his in he is y-go, And Herhaud he cleped anon him to. 'Herhaud, mi frende, wille we gon? At þemperour take we leue anon. Into Costentyn-noble ichil go To help þemperour of his wo: Þat wiþ þe soudan biseged is he, So siggeþ men of þat cuntre; Þat lond destrud & men aqueld, & cristendom þai han michel afeld.' Herhaud answerd, 'y graunt it be: Miche worþschipe it worþ to þe.' At þemperour þai toke leue to go, & he hem graunted vnneþe þo; Anouȝ he bedeþ hem castels & tours, Riche cites, halles, & bours. Sir Gij toke an hundred of his kniȝtes, Strongest and best in fiȝtes, Þat he miȝt in Almayne finde, Mest y-preised & best doinde. Now þai ben to schippe y-went: Gode winde god haþ hem lent. To Costentyn-noble þai ben y-come, & in þe cite her in y-nome. Ac when þemperour wist atte frome Þat Gij of Warwike was y-come, Tvay erls he dede after him go, & loueliche he bad hem com him to. & sir Gij him goþ to þemperour fre: 'Welcome, sir Gij,' þan seyd he. 'Of þine help gret nede haue we. Michel ich haue herd speke of þe. Mine men ben sleyn in þis tide, & mi lond destrud in ich a side:MS. aside Al bot þis ich selue cite Destrud & brent hauen he. Fourti þousand þaioriginally þai þai, but the second þai crossed out. slowe on a day Of mine men, as ich ȝou telle may. Mine men þai slowe, mi sone also, Wharfore, leue frende, y bede þe to, Ȝif þou miȝt me of hem wreke, & þe felouns out of mi lond do reke, Mine feyrMS. feyir with the i underdotted. douhter þou schalt habbe, & half mi lond, wiþ-outen gabbe.' Þan answerd anon sir Gij, 'Sir,' he seyd, 'gramercij! & y þe sigge, bi mi leute, Þat treweliche ichil serue þe Al þe while þat ich wiþ þe be: Þerof, sir, þou miȝt leue me.' At þemperour he toke leue anon, Vnto his in he gan to gon. Noyse & cri he herd in þat cite: He gan oxy what it miȝt be. He hem oxed what it were, & what was al þat noise þere. So mani kniȝtes he seye to armes go, So mani seriaunce steye to kernels þo. 'Sir,' quaþ a burieys, 'bi seyn Martin, It beþ þe liþer Sarrazin: It is þe amiral Costdram, Þe nevou of þe riche soudan. So strong he is, & of so gret miȝt, In world y wene no better kniȝt; For þer nis man no kniȝt non Þat wiþ wretþe dar loken him on. His armes alle avenimed beþ: Þat venim is strong so þe deþ: In þis world nisMS. is man þat he take miȝt Þat he neMS. omits ne schuld dye anon riȝt. Þat oþer day he dede ous sorwe anouȝ Of þemperour sone þat he slouȝ, Þat waswas at end of line in MS. so gode and stalworþ kniȝt, Þat opon hem had ȝeuen mani fiȝt. In þis cite so gode kniȝt was non, Þat with wretþe durst loke him on. Comen he is wiþ grete cheualrie,cleualrie MS. & wiþ him þe riche king of Turkye Wiþ an hundred Turkes strong: Beþ non better in non lond.' ¶ & when sir Gij herd þis Þat his ost seyd to him, y-wis, To his felawes he seyd anon, 'To armes,' he seyd, 'euerichon! Þe Sarrazins we willen agast. For godes loue, smiteþ on fast!' Hastiliche y-armed hij beþ, Opon her stedes as foule þai fleþ. Forþ þai went & on hem smite Wiþ her swerdes þat wil wel bite. Gij to þe amiral smot so, Scheld no hauberk nas him worþ a slo: Þurch þe body he ȝaf him wounde, & dede he feld him on þe grounde. Sir Gij his gode swerd out drouȝ, Þat heued fram þe bodi he slouȝ. To þemperour he it haþ y-sent, Þat wel glad was of þat present. ¶ Herhaud smot þe king of Turkie (Was non feller intonto MS. Surrie): Þurch þe bodi he him smot, Ded he feld him doun fot hot. Wiþ þat com Tebaud prikeinde, In Fraunce y-bore, a kniȝt wel kinde: Wiþ swiche strengþe he smot Helmadan, Al was nouȝt worþ he hadde opan. Þurch his bodi þe launce glod; Ded he fel wiþ-outen a-bod. Gauter come prikeing anon riȝt, Of Almayne a wel gode kniȝt. Heteliche he smot Redmadan (Ȝe no haue herd speke of no swiche man): Þe bodi atvo he haþ to-deled, Þat he fel doun in þe feld. Wiþ þat come sir Morgadour, Þat was steward wiþ þemperour. Kniȝt he was gode & hardi, Ac traitour he was, ful of envie. He smot vnto a Sarrazin, No halp him nouȝt his Apolin. Now þai smitte togider comonliche, & fiȝt þai agin ardiliche. Þer men miȝt se Gij smite, & þe Sarrazins heuedes of strike, & wiþ him Herhaud also: Boþe þai strengþed hem wele to do. Þe Sarrazins þai strengþed hem for to sle, To-hewen, & iuel to bise. Þe Sarrazins hem ȝeld gret fiȝt, For strong þai ben, & of gret miȝt. Wiþ þat come Esclandar prikeinde, A Sarrazin & of foule kinde, Þe kinges sone of Birrie, Strong he was for þe maistrie. Dan Tebaud he felled þo, Þurch þe bodi he dede þe launce go; & seþþe he slouȝ a Freyns kniȝt, In Bleyues he was born ariȝt. Romiraunt com forþ snelle, A Sarrazin a strong wiþ elle, Y-slawe he haþ dan Guinman, A strong kniȝt he was & an Aleman. Wiþ þat come forþ an amireld, A Sarrazin of wicked erd, Dan Gauter he haþ y-slawe, & gode Gilmin his felawe. When Herhaud þat of-seye þo, In his hert him was ful wo; An amiral he smot so, Ded he feld him an hastMS. anhast þo, & mani anoþer he haþ aqueld, & adoun feld in þe feld. Sone so Esclandar y-seye þis, To awreke þe amiral lef him is. To Herhaud he smot heteliche, & he him mett hardiliche; Heteliche þai smiten togider þo, Þat of her hors þai fellen bo. Seþþen þai drouȝ her brondes of stiel, & smiten togider hard & wel, To-hewe hauberk & scheldes also, Gode bodis þai ben boþe to. Of her helmes þe flours gan fle, So heteliche togider smiten he. Herhaud goþ him driueand fast, His heued to smiten of on hast. Ac so gret socour him com þer, An hundred Turkes & her pouer; Herhaud þai gin alle asaile, & neye hadde slain him in þat bataile, No hadde GijGij added over the line. þat y-seye, þat was sorij; Hastiliche he com him to socourey. His gode brond þan drouȝ he, Þe heued of a Sarrazin he dede of fle, & anoþer he dede also; Þe þridde to deþ he dede do. Herhaud he socourd in þat nede, & dede him lepe opon his stede. Þe Sarrazins anon gun þai mete, Mani on þer her liif þai lete, Mani on þer dyed in aiþerMS. inaiÞer side, Ac þe Sarrazins wers gan bi-tide. Sir Gij & alle his feren, Þe Griffouns þat gode weren, Han ouer-comen & aqueld; To-hewen þai leyen in the feld. Toward her ost þai ben fleinge, & Gij hem after fast folweinge; Ar hij þe doun were ouer gon, Y-slawe hij ben & to-hewen ichon. Esclandar is oway fleinde, Ouer þe dounes fast erninde, & al to-brokenMS. alto broken his scheld is, His helme al to-dasschedMS. alto dassched, y-wis. Gij it of-þouȝt when he it seye, Þat he so liȝteliche oway fleye: 'Esclandar,' seyd Gij, 'wende oȝain to me, & forsoþe al siker þou be; Drede þe of no noþer þan of me, Ones to iusti ich oxi of þe.' Esclandar seyd, 'artow Gij? Ich þe defende sikerly. Bi Mahoun þat ich leue opon, Neuer no schal ich oway gon, No neuer schal y bliþe be, Til ich þat heued binim þe; Bihoten ich it haue a maiden of pris, Þe soudans douhter þat wel fair is.' Her steden þai turned snelle, & to-gider þai smiten wiþ gode wille; Esclandar first smot Gij Þurch þe scheld as kniȝt hardi; Gij smot him anon riȝt, Scheld no hauberk halp him no wiȝt; He smot him þurch at þat chaunce Þurch þe bodi wiþ his launce. Esclandar fleye forþ a wel gode pas, Sir Gij of-toke him nouȝt, þerfor wo him was; To his felawes he is y-go, Riȝt to þe cite he ȝede him þo. Þe Sarrazins were ouer-come, Þerfore þai were bliþe, all and some. Þemperour of-sent Gij him to, & miche honour he haþ him do. 'Gij,' quaþ he, 'þou art me dere, Þou schalt bileue wiþ me here: Mi feir douhter, þat is of pris, Ichil þe ȝiue to spouse y-wis; Þou schalt ben emperour after me, Þou art a kniȝt of gret bounte. Al þo þat ben to me serueinde, Ichil þai be to þe boweinde.' 'Gramerci,' seyd sir Gij anon; 'A fair ȝift is þis now on.' Þe steward come forþ bliue, More treytour nas non oliue; His name was hoten Morgadour, God ȝif him euel auentour! Toward Gij he bar greta dot over the t in gret. ond, & seþþe he died þurch his hond. Quaþ Morgadour, 'sir, þat wil wele be, For Gij is curteys, gentil, & fre; When he schal þi douhter spousy, Riȝt is þat we him onoury.' Ac what so he seyd bifor Gij þo, Ȝif he may, to deþ he wille him do. Esclandar went oway fleinde, Toward her ost fast prikeinde; Þurch þe bodi he bar a trounsoun, Wiþ boþe honden he held him to þee in þe added over the line. arsoun. Boþe bifore & eke bihinde, Þe blod gan out fast winde, His helme in þe on half honginde, & his visage al bledeinde. His scheld to held hadde he no miȝt, He drad him to dye anon riȝt. To þe soudans pauiloun he come, Þe soudan him bi-knewe anon: 'Esclandar, when comestow?' seyd he; 'In strong fiȝt þou hast y-be. Were þou alon at þe cite? Say me who haþ þus wounded þe?' 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'ichil þe telle Of hard tidinges wel snelle: Y-lorn þou hast þe amiral Cosdrams on an erasure. Þat leuest þe was of ani man, & þe king of Turkie þou hast forgon, Of hem no tit þe neuer help non. & alle þe best men y-bore Bifor þe cite þou hast forlore.' Þan answerd þe riche soudan, Þat hadde no gamen of þan: 'Him is þan sum socour y-come, Whar-þurch mi Turkes be me binome?' 'Sir,' quaþe Esclandar, 'y-wis, An onwrast gome y-comen þer is; Socour he haþ gret & beld, In þe warld nis swiche a scheldMS. ascheld.; Gij of Warwike his name it is, Sterner þan ani lyoun, y-wis. His strokes no may noman dreye, Þat he ne most dye on hye. Wiþ him he haþ an hundred kniȝtes Of Almayne, þe best in fiȝtes; Þurch þe bodi þus me he smot, Dede ich am, wele y wot.' ¶ Þan swore a gret oþ þe soudan Bi Mahoun þat he leued opan, Þat neuer glad no worþ he What he haue y-nome þat cite; For asayle he it wille do Ar þe þridde day be ago. Anon a spie it herdSo MS. for herd or iherd? þis, Þat to Gij it nold for-hele y-wis. Sone he com to þe cite; Al þis to Gij þan teld he, Þat þe soudan wiþ his men elle Þe cite wil aseyle snelle. Ac þemperour wist þer-of nouȝt Þat so strong tiding þer were y-brouȝt. Ac when he wist þe soþe herof, Ernist him þouȝt, & no scof. ¶ Þemperour made him bliþe þo Þat ouer-comen weren his fo, & Gij to þemperour is y-go, & swiþe feyr he gret him þo. 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'be bliþe & glad; Gode tidinges me haþ ben seyd.' Þemperour of-sent his foules þo, Oscuriis, faucouns, & ierfaukes also; Gon he wil to þe riuer, Him to solas & play þer. Seþþe he of-sent of his Gregeys, Þat gode weren & curteys. To þe riuer þai ben y-gon Wher foules were mani on. Wiþ þat come forþ sir Morgadour, Þat steward was wiþ þemperour, & seyd to Gij, 'mi frende dere, Y þe loue in gode manere.' Ac alle þat he seyd, Gij to bitraye, Þat was wele sen in his last daye. Non no may so wele tresoun do So may he þat his trust is to. Ȝete seyd to him Morgadour, 'Castels ich haue, & mani feir tour, Riche cites, & ful strong, To þine wille þou hem afong; Michel y desire þi loue to haue. Go we togider wiþ game & plawe: Into þe chaumber go we baye, Among þe maidens for to playe; At tables to pleye, & at ches; Wele we may don it y-wis Bifor þi leman Clarice so fre, Þemperours douhter briȝt of ble. & lete we þemperour to wode go, To chace þe hert & þe ro.' 'Sir,' quaþ Gij, 'wille we go? When þou it wilt, it schal be do.' Into þe chaumber þai ȝede þo Hond in hond y-fere bo. To þe mayden þai come wel sket, Þat curteysliche hem haþ y-gret. 'Sir Gij,' sche seyd, 'welcome þou be! Cum sitt & pleye þe here wiþ me.' He toke þe maiden & hir kiste: Þat of-þouȝt þe steward vnwreste. He hir hadde loued mani a day, & wende haue spoused þat feir may. Þe cheker þai oxy & þe meyne; Bifor þe maiden þan pleyen he. Y-sett þai han þe first game, Þe steward it les, bi godes name. Seþþe þai han anoþer y-gonne, Anon it haþ Gij y-wonne, & þe þridde ful hastiliche. Þe steward was sori sikerliche; Al mody he ros vp þo: Wroþ & sori he was bo. 'Gij,' quaþ he, 'bi-leue þou here, Þiself & Clarice, þi pleye-fere, Al what ich come now son oȝe.' 'Anon,' seyd Gij, 'it schal so be.' Out him went Morgadour, At his in he tok a chasour, To þemperour he goþ riȝt. When þemperour hadde of him siȝt, Oȝaines him he is y-gon, & tidinges he oxed him anon. 'Now forþ, sir steward,' he sede, 'Comestow for gode or for qued? Whi comestow so prikiinge? Tel it me wiþ-outen lesinge. Ȝif þou of Sarrazins hast herd ouȝt, Tel it me; for-hele it nouȝt.' 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'y schal þe telle: Þi schame forhele y nille. An soudour þou hast wiþ þe, & wil þat þou y-schent be. Þi douhter, þat so feir is, Forlay he haþ, for-soþe y-wis. Into hir bour wiþ strengþe he ȝede, & bi þi douhter his wille he dede.' Ȝif þou ne me leuest, hom þou fare, Ȝete þou schalt him finde þare. Þer þou miȝt him finde, y-wis, & þi douhter clippe & kisse. Þerfore y com þe to say, For þi schame forhele y no may. Ȝif þou him finde in þat stede, Into þi prisoun þou him lede, & in þi court þou deme him do; For treitour he is, y telle þe to: Þe more adouted þou schalt be Of alle þi regne, y telle þe. Þer-fore ne wonde þou no-þing Nouȝt for him no his helping; After-ward þat he demed is, & þi court of þat treytour deliuerd is, Into Almayne ichil gon To þemperour Reyner anon; Socour fram him ichil bringe, & deliuer þi lond, wiþouten lesinge, Of alle þine dedeliche fon, Þat þine men haue sleyn ichon.' 'Who is þat?' þemperour sede. 'Gij of Warwike, so god me rede! Þou do him nim, & binde fast, & in þi prisoun þou do him cast.' Quaþ þemperour, 'lat now be, No speke nouȝt so of him to me: Oȝaines me misdo he nold Nouȝt for tventi somers of gold, No for to ben al to-hewe: So gode a kniȝt he is & trewe. & ȝif he is þer-in, wele be it so: Wiþ hir his wille he may do; For mi douhter ichim bi-hote habbe, Nil ich nouȝt of couenant gabbe.' ¶ When þe steward him haþ bi-þouȝt Þat þemperour nold here him nouȝt, Hom to his in he is y-go, & aliȝt of his palfrey þo. Anon in-to chaumber he ȝede, & to Gij of Warwike he sede, 'Gij, þou art ful wele wiþ me, Þerfore ich-il kiþen it þe: To þemperour y-teld it is, Bi þe lord seyn Denis, Þat wiþ strengþe þou com inin added over the line.-to his bour & has forleyn his douhter wiþ desonour. & ȝif he þe may ouer-go, He wil þe bren oþer slo. . . . . . & ich hot þe þat þou hennes fle, Þat he nouȝt of-take þe.' . . . . . 'Bi god,' quaþ Gij, 'þat were wrong, Þat y schold here mi deþ afong For þing þat ich haue gilt non, No neuer þouȝt it to don. An arnemorwe, when he out ȝede, Miche he me o loue bede; Hou schuld ich euer siker be Of ani bi-hest men hotes me? For þemperour me seyd þo, And trewelich me bihete þerto, Þat he me wold gret worþschipe, & now he me wil sle wiþ schenschipe For þe speche of a losanger, & of a feloun pautener.' Out of þe chaumber he is y-go: Sori & dreri he was þo. To his in he ȝede swiþe, And cleped his felawes bliue. 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'to armes snelle! Here wil we no longer duelle: To þemperour y-wraid we beþ, Alle he wil don ous to þe deþ. Bi þe treuþe y schal our lord ȝeld, Þat heuen and erþe haueþ in weld, Er þan we be nomen & ded, So mani schal dye of her ferred, Þat it worþ abouȝt wel strong Þat ich am bi-wrayd wrong!' To armes þai went wiþ þat ichon; Out of þe cite þai ben y-gon, & went toward þe heþen men, Wiþ þem to holden & to ben, To help þe heþen men ichon. Wiþ þat com þemperour anon: Fram þe riuer he come rideinge, & wiþ his folk fast prikeinge; Feir weder it was, & miri also, Þe briȝt armes he seye þo. ¶ Þemperour hem seye, & knewe Gij, For he come hem swiþe neye. At an herhaud þan asked he, 'This armed folk, what may þis be?' 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'it is Gij, Þat in wretþe fram þe wil parti; Vnto þe soudan he wil fare, & wirche þe sorwe & michel care Þurch wraying þat teld him is: Wele y wot þat soþe it nis. Wele it semeþ þat wroþ is he; Al armed on his stede ich him se.' When þemperour herd þis, Alle droupeninde he was y-wis, He gan to prike, & þat anon: As hauk þat fleyþe his hors gan gon. After Gij loude he gradde þo: 'Abide & speke me now to! For godes loue lete now be; Whi wiltow, sir, go fro me? Ȝif ich ouȝt haue agilt to þe, For godes loue þou say it me; Be it in dede oþer in speche That ani þe han agilt, y þe biseche, To þi wille it schal amended be, & topon al oþer y loue þe. Wele ich wene þat þe soudan, y-wis, To whom al Percie atended is, After þe haþ sent: ich vnderstond so. He þe schal habbe, & y forgo. Gold & siluer he may ȝiue þe, & feffe þe wiþ mani a riche cite; Þer-fore þou wilt wiþ him be, & strongliche holden oȝaines me.' 'Sir,' quaþ sir Gij to þemperour, 'No was ich neuer þi traitour, And ȝif god wil, y nil nouȝt be, Þerwhiles þe lif is in me. Me was y-teld biforn now riȝt Of on þat is þi priue kniȝt, Þat þou no hadest to don wiþ mi seruise, & þat y þe serue wiþ feyntise; And þat ich was biwrayd to þe (For þi nold ich no longer here be), And þat þou wost do me to-hewe, & mine barouns, þat ben so trewe. For þi y þouȝt þat y go scholde To hem þat mi seruise ȝeld me wold; Ac for al Damas & þat cuntre Nold ich haue holden oȝaines te.' ¶ Þemperour þan him nome Bitvene his armes, & seyd anon, 'Nay, sir Gij,' he seyd, 'bi seyn Denis, It no was nouȝt so, y-wis. Mi dere frende Gij, oȝain þou go (Lordinges, barouns, biddeþ him so); For to þine wille it is alle, Alle þat min is, and ben schal. Ac biwrayed þou war to me, & þer-fore haue he maugre! Neuer eft worþ non loued of me Þat ouȝt sigge bot gode of þe.' Þemperour þan to Gij seyd, 'Þi wille þou do bi þat mayde.' Sir Gij kist þemperour þo, & to þe cite þai ben y-go. Þo wist wele Gij bi þan, Bitreydor Bitrayd, a being altered from e? him hadde his foman; Ac no semblaunt þerof he no made, No no þing to him seyde. An armorwe erliche Þemperour aros, sikerliche; Anon he seyd to Gij his speche: 'Herken to me, y þe biseche. In þis morning anon We worþ aseyled of our fon, Of Sarrazins þat misbileued be; Alle for soþe y telle it to þe. Þe soudan himselue wil þer be. A spie for soþe teld it me, Þat hij þe cite wil asayli, & þat hij þennes nil parti, Al fort he haue nome þis cite, Or þat it destrued be.' Þemperour seyd, 'sir Gij þe fre, Als so þou wilt it schal be. Þe cite alle op þe y do Wiþ Cristes blisceing þer-to. Ȝif hij ous seyl we schul ous were; Þe cite is strong, þai mow it nouȝt dere.' Gij þat constable cleped him to, Þat gode kniȝt was, & wise also: Tristor he hete wiþ þe berd blowe, Lord & douke of Almayne, y trowe. 'Sir Tristor,' he seyd, 'listen to me: Aseyled we worþ, siker þou be. Þer-of þou most birede þe, Ȝif we wille were þis cite, Oþer we wille oȝain hem te, At paþes that destrued be, & mete we hem þer on þe doune, Acumbre hem & legge hem doune.' 'Sir,' anon seyd the constable, 'Þis ich speche schal be stable. Do þan grede þurch þe cite Þat alle redy armed be, Alle þat armes may welde, And who so þat feyneþ for couward be helde.' Bi þe morwe þai ben armed wel, Bi tale .xx. thousend hauberks of stiel, Out of þe cite þai ben y-go Wiþ gret noise & din also. 'Lordinges,' quaþ Gij, 'herkeneþ to me Ȝe þat here asembled be, Of ȝour kinde þat is y-slawe, Of edwite & of missawe, Þat ous is don, thenke we þer-on, & baldeliche aseyl we our fon; For Sarrazins ous aseyle wille, Alle for soþe y ȝou telle. We wil hem mete wiþ spere & scheld At þe narwe paþe bi-tven þe held. Now biþenkeþ ȝou wele to don, & awreke ȝour lond of ȝour fon. Of ȝour londes & ȝour citez, Þat destrud & wasted beþ, Ȝou to awreke bi-þenkeþ ȝou, & strongliche aseyleþ hem now. Bot ȝe were ȝou wele & bliue, & hij mow ȝou of þe feldes driue, Alle we ben ded oþer nome, & in þraldome euer more wone. For þi mete we wiþ hemMS. hen sone, & strengþe ous alle wele to done; & ich me self wil wiþ ȝou go; Y nil ȝou feyle neuer mo.' Wele spekeþ now Sir Gij, & alle þai siggeþ, 'gramerci!' To þe pas of þe hulles þai ben y-come, & þe Sarrazins han vnder-nome, & seye þe cuntres & þe feld Wiþ briȝt brini and wiþ scheld. Þe soudan cleped after Helman, Þat deined fle for no man; He was coraious & gode kniȝt, & michel adouted in euerich fiȝt. 'Sir king,' quaþ he, 'come to me. Wiþ .xx. þousende Turkes, ich hot þe, The Cristen ȝe schul aseyle anon. Loke ȝe nim hem oþer slen ichon; Opon ȝon hulle þai ben, lo; Gret harm þai han ous y-do.' Þe king forþ went wiþ his men ichon, Wiþ strengþe þe helde þai vnder-nome; Wiþ strengþe þai wene þe slade ouer-go; Ac gret combraunce hem com furst to. At þe entring of þe pas Gijadded over the line in another hand. gan to grede, 'Helpeþ, lordinges, alle our ferrede! Biþenkeþ ȝou to winnen wele. & hij oȝaines ȝou vndernim þe hille, Yuel ous worþ þan bi-go, Bot god ous on þenkeMS. onþenke. þat al may do; Þai ben bi-neþenne on an erasure. & we aboue. Amidde þe pas þai ben to-gider come, & asaileþ hem smerteliche; & to-gider we go now commonliche: Þroweþ wiþ stones, and bowes scheteinge, Launces, swerdes, & dartes kerueinge, Smiteþ wiþ swerdes & speres y-grounde, Scheteþ wiþ piles & ȝif hem deþ wounde.' Mani Sarrazin þer y-slawe is; Þer doþ Gij as þe riȝt wise. Into þe narwe hij come, hem to lett, Bi hundredes foureRead Bihinde and bifore. þai aseyl hem sket; Bi hundred & bi þousende,originally thou|sinde, it seems. Þai ben þe Sarrazins quellinde. Gij smot on þis side & on þat: Nas þer non þat his dint sat. ¶ Ermine he smot onon added over the line. þurch þe scheld; Almost he feld him in þe feld. Þan come Auþer ouer þuert, A Sarrazin modi of hert: ErmineHerhaud? smot him on þe helme an heyȝe,hey ȝe on an erasure, the last e being indistinct. Þat he cleue him to þe teþ; Al ded he made him on þe grounde to lie. Wiþ þat come þe king of Nubie; Toward Herhaud he come prikeinde, & Gij him was oȝain cominde. Wiþ grete strengþe sir Gij him smot Þat he feld him anon fot hot. When þe douke of Tire þat y-seþ, His men dye on so reweliche deþ (An hond he held a dart kerueinde, Þe Cristen þer-wiþ þreteninde), He forþ ȝede, & smot a kniȝt, Þat ded he feld him anon riȝt. When Gij o Warwike þat y-seye, Þiderward he drouȝ him swiþe neye: A gode dart on hond he bar, & to him he launced heteliche þar. Þer-wiþ he smot Ebban þe king, Þat ded he fel wiþouten letting. Þe Sarrazines hij to-heweþ & quelleþ, Bi þe doun hij gredeþ & ȝelleþ. When þe soudan seye his folk dye, Bi ten, bi tvelue, in þe waye, He cleped to him þe king of Nubye, Þat was ful of felonie. 'Sir king,' he seyd, 'sest tow nouȝt Hou mine men ben to deþ y-brouȝt? Descumfit & y-slawe hij beþ, Þe bodis ded wele ȝe seþ. Þis Cristen our men to deþ doþ; Ac bi Cariot y swere mi noþ, & bi Apolyn þe grete, Bi Ternagaunt, & bi Mahoun þe swete, Bot we of hem be wreken swiþe, No worþ y neuer glad no bliþe, Bot we hem aseyle biginne, & þe hille wiþ strengþe awinne. An hundred we ben oȝain hem on, & al we schul hem nimen anon.' Þe helden þai nimeþ about strongliche, & þe Cristen aseyl stalworþliche At þe brode paþe & narwe also; Þe Gregeys wele werd hem þo. On þe Cristen þai gun smite, Þe Sarrazins, boþe miche & lite, & our men hem werd wel Wiþ scharpe speres & groundenthe r added over the line. stiel: Wiþ axes & swerdes y-grounde, Wiþ gisarmes þai ȝif deþes wounde. ¶ Þe soudan forþwiþ alder-farst On þe Cristen smot wel fast; On heye on helmes he hem smot Wiþ his fauchon þat wele bot. Toȝaines Gij he smot þo, & seyd 'war, ich-il þe slo!' Gij he smot so ouer þuert, Þat he was sumdel y-hert; Ac Gij wiþ strengþe to him smot Wiþ his swerd þat wele bot. Wel strong was þat ich fiȝt, Ac þe soudan wered him wiþ miȝt. Wharto schuld ich ȝou telle more? Þe Sarrazins ouer-comen wore: Wele haþ Gij don þat day, As gode kniȝt & verray. At a pas he houed riȝt, As a kniȝt of gret miȝt; A gisarme he bar kerueinde, He smot bifore & bi-hinde. Þe Sarraȝins so he agast, Al þat he smot to grounde he cast. . . . . . . . . . . His scheld he hadde forlore, To-hewe it lay his fet bifore. So mani Sarrazin he slouȝ þat day, Þat ich on oþer ded lay; So mani to ded þer he dede, Þat þe hepe lay to his girdel stede. ¶ Who so seye þan Herhaud fiȝt, Of a gode kniȝt ȝelp he miȝt. A damsax he bar on his hond: Al þat he rauȝt to grounde he wond; Sarrazins he slouȝ mo þan sexti, & Gij an hundred & fourti. Herhaud þat day so sore swong, Þat þurch his mouþe þe fom it sprong; Al to-heweMS. alto hewe was his helme, Þe blod ran out als a welme. What schuld y make tale muche? Þe Sarrazins þai slowen strongliche; Ac euer he was gode, apliȝt, Gij of Warwike michel of miȝt, More dede þan ani oþer: His stroke was heui so a foþer. Gij and his feren also Als lyouns þai fouȝten þo, & the Gregeys forþ wiþ hem, Þai wered hem as douhti men. Weynes & cartes þai han y-nome Mo þan fiften þousende atte frome. Y-ioined hij han þe gret piles, Ginnes þai made on selcouþe wise, Sum piles scharpe kerueinde, Al aboute so mani stondinde, Þat ich ne can þe noumbre telle, Noiþer in rime no in spelle. Þer nas man þat þer neye come, Þat he ne was to-corwen anon. So griseliche be þe engins, For to sle þe Sarrazines, In ich half y-sett arawe, Scharpe soules doun of þe hulle y-drawe.r added over the line. Þer-mid þai hewe þe gret stonis, Bi-hewe quarre for þe nonis, So gret so tventie men miȝt drawe, To slen hem of þe heþen lawe. Swiche a þousende for-smiten þai be, Þat neuer after schullen y-the; Wel iuel hem is bifallen þare, Ded þai ben wiþ sorwe & care. Wharto schuld ich tale telle? Þe soudan lepe on hors ful snelle. Gret onde he hadde to Gyoun, & to Herhaud, his compaynoun, For hij han slawe so fel of his. He sat on an hors of pris, Wiþ gret hete he smot to Gij, Opon his helme, sikerly, Þat he feld þat o quarter. To Gij he seyd a bismer: 'Y-sestow, lord? bi Apolin, Þat was a strok of a Sarrazin!' Gij to þe soudan smot þo, His helme no was him worþ a slo: Resares euen forþ þe breyn Helme & flesse he carf wiþ meyn. Þan he seyd to him a bismer: 'Mahoun halp þe litel þer! Bodi & soule no nouȝt þer-of No is nouȝt worþ a lekes clof. Hou so it go of mi wounde, Of Mahoun þou hast litel help y-founde. Er þou scorndest me, Of mi wounde þou madest þi gle: Leche gode schal ich haue, Þat mi wounde schal to hele drawe; Þou hast a croun schauen to þe bon; Tomerwe þou miȝt sing anon. Wele þou þouȝtest to ben a prest, When þou of swiche a bischop order berst!' Now biginneþ þat gret fiȝt; Bi þre, bi four, adoun riȝt, Þe Sarrazins ben ouer-come, Oway fleinde þai ben some. Þe niȝt comeþ, þe day is go, Þe Sarrazins han ful michel wo; For so mani y-slawe þer be (So seyd þe folk of þat cuntre), Þat men miȝt wade ouer þe scho hem In þe blod þat of hem kem. So miche folk þer was y-slawe þo, Þat fiftene forlong men miȝt go, Þat þei he kept him neuer so, He most nedes opon men go, Oþer on fot, oþer on hond, Oþer opon arm coruen wiþ brond. ¶ Wiþ þat come an amiral prikeinge, Newe dubbed he was, wiþ-outen lesing; To þe soudan he is y-come, Þurch þe bodi he haþ woundes some. 'Sir,' he seyd, 'hennes we go: No sestow al our folk slo? Bi þousendes þou sest hem to deþ ligge; Our godes ous hateþ, for soþe to sigge. Þou sest Mahoun ne Apolin Be nouȝt worþ þe brestel of a swin. Anon riȝtes wiþdrawe þou þe, & to þi pauiloun þou fle; Alle þe wounded þou do wiþ þe lede; Ȝete þai may þe help & rede. Þi rereban þou do of-sende; To awreke [þe] þou haue in mende.' Anon þai hem wiþdrawe and ben ouer-come; Sori þai ben alle & some. Þe soudan dede biforn him bring Alle his godes, wiþouten lesing: Toward hem he is wel wroþ, Do he wil hem harm & loþ: 'A ȝeȝe on an erasure. fals godes vnwreste! Sone ȝou tit a liþerMS. alither feste. Oȝain ous ȝe ben of wicked mode: Schame ȝe don ous & no gode. Ȝe don ous alder-werst to spede When þat we han mest nede. Fy, fy,' he seyd, 'on [þe], Apolin! Þou schalt haue wel iuel fin, & þou, Ternagaunt, also: Michel schame schal com ȝou to; & þou, Mahoun, her alder lord, Þou nart nouȝt worþ a tord! Þer-fore þou it schalt abigge Wiþ staues gret opon þi rigge.' . . . . . . . . . . So he gan his godes to cloute, Þat þe erþe dined aboute. Her armes & legges he to-tiȝt, & cleped hem wroches anon riȝt: 'Godenes in ȝou nas neuer y-founde, No more miȝt þan in an hounde.' Bi þe fet he hem out drouȝ, And dede hem schame riȝt anouȝ. Gij dede clepe her cheueteyn Wiþ gode will & hert feyn: 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'god y-þonked be! Feir grace so habbe we, Þat þe Sarrazins ben ouercome. Wende we to þe cite atte frome.' & when þai ben comen oȝen, To þemperour welcom þai ben, & nameliche Gij, þe gode kniȝt, Mest was worþschiped in þat fiȝt. ¶ When þat y-seye Morgadour, Þat steward was wiþ þemperour, Þat Gij biwreyed vnwrastliche, Þat þemperour loued so miche, He bigan for to asay Hou he miȝt Gij bi-tray. O felonie he haþ him bi-þouȝt; Of swiche no haue ȝe herd nouȝt: He þouȝt in his wille þo, Þat Gij o message schuld go. In swiche þouȝt & swiche wille An while he held him stille; Anon he went to þemperour, & seyd, 'sir, par amour, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Þe soudan haþ his folk y-sent: Into al peyni his sond is sent. Þer nis noiþer ȝing no eld Þat armes may bere & wepen weld, Alle he is haueþ of-sent, Þe to bisege verrament. ¶ To him þou þi sond sende, Alle þi wille, word & ende.' . . . . . . . . . . 'Who,' he seyd, 'durst þider wende?' 'Sir Gij, a kniȝt hardi & hende Of þine house, & þat y plight: Gij of Warwike of gret miȝt, Herhaud of Arderne, þat oþer best: On hem tveye ȝe mow ȝou trest. To þe soudan þou sende þine kniȝtes bold, & say þou wilt wiþ him a day hold Of acord in swiche manere.' 'Sir steward,' seyd þemperere, 'Toward Gij þou berst iuel wille: He no schal nouȝt go; þerof be stille. Ac mine barouns ichil of-sende, & wite who wille þider wende.' His barouns he haþ of-sent: Ouer alle his lond þai ben y-went, Þat þai schuld to þemperour wende. To hem he seyd, 'mi leue frende, Ich wold sende to the soudan, Ȝif ich wist euer bi wham. To him to sende ich am in wille, Wiþ him to acord loude oþer stille, Ȝif ani of ȝou so hardi were, Þat to him þe message bere.' When þemperour had seyd his resoun, Þer nas noiþer kniȝt no baroun Þat him a word answerd þo: Nas þer non þe message durst do. ¶ A baroun of þe benche aros: Sir Tristor his name was. 'Sir emperour, vnder-stond me, For leyer no schal ich holden be; For ich it sigge for gret loue, & þine worþschipe to held aboue: Fif thousende siþe haue he maugre Þat þe conseyl ȝaf to þe! For he þe loueþ riȝt nouȝt Þat in þat wille þe haþ y-brouȝt, Þat þou to him ȝelde scholdest, Botþat? þou þi sonde sende woldest. No þenkestow nouȝt of þat baroun Þat was of so gret renoun, Hou þou sendest him to? Oȝain no come he neuer mo. He þe sent þe heued wiþ-outen more, No durst neuer eft non com þore; In þe world is kniȝt non Þat þe message durst don. For arwe no sigge ich it no-wiȝt: Ȝif in min armes were so gret miȝt Also ich hadde, & as ȝong were As ich was hennes an hundred ȝere, Þis ich message don ich wold, For drede of deþ lete y nold. Ac icham now a neld man, Alle mine miȝtes ben now gan; It is now gon mo þan fifti ȝer Þat ich on rigge hauberk ber. Ichjich, but the j underdotted. ȝou sigge for soþe y-wis, To lese a good man gret harm it is, For ȝif he ani sendeþ þider, His heued him schal comen hider. Now ich haue mi wille y-sede; Now ȝiue anoþer better rede.' When Tristor hadde y-seyd þis, Wiþ-outen ani oþer abod y-wis, Þer nas nouȝt on, litel no miche, Þat durst speke sikerliche. Gij of Warwike vp arist: 'Sir emperour, bi mi lord Iesujhus originally, but the s under|dotted. Crist, Þis message ichil afo, & it þurch godes help do.' Seyd þemperour, 'þat schaltow nouȝt: Þider to go haue þou no þouȝt; Ich itMS. ichit dede mine men to fond, To whom ich miȝt trust in mi lond.' Þan answerd Gij wel snelle, 'For soþe, sir, leten y nille, Þat ich þe message wil do, To dye er ich þennes go.' Wiþ þat he went out of þe halle. Þe Gregeys siked among hem alle, 'God! what Gij is noble baroun! Iesu, þat suffred passioun, Saue him fram cumberment, & him oȝain bring in sauement.' Gij cam to his in in a stounde, His felawes droupeing he founde. 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'hou is it now? Almiȝti god y bi-teche ȝou.' 'Sir,' quaþ Herhaud, 'ich-il go Bi þine wille wiþ þe also.' Gij answerd, 'so no schal it be. Icham y-go: biddeþ for me.' He oxed his armes hastiliche, And men es him brouȝt sikerliche. Hosen of iren he haþ on drawe, Non betterbertter, but the first r under|dotted. nar bi þo dawe. In a strong hauberk he gan him schrede, Who so it wered, þe ded no þurt him drede. An helme he haþ on him don: Better no wered neuer kniȝt non; The serclethe r added over the line. of gold þer-on was wrouȝt, For half a cite no worþ it bouȝt: So mani stones þer-in were, Þat were of vertu swiþe dere. Seþþe he gert him wiþ a brond Þat was y-made in eluene lond. His scheld about his nek he tok, On hors he lepe wiþ-outen stirop, On hond he nam a spere kerueinde, Out of þe cite he was rideinde. Alle þat weren of þat cite For him wel sori weren he; No wene þai neuer his ȝain-cominge, Alle þai wene þer his endinge. Now is Gij in þe riȝt way Toward þe Sarrazins, y say, Wele y-armed on his stede, A launce he bar gode at nede. Smerteliche he dede him in þe ways, Ouer þe dounes & þe valeys To the Sarrazins y-comen he is, & her pauilouns he seþ y-wis. A real pauiloun he þer seye Wiþ an eren of gold an heye. Þat was þe soudanssoudanes, but the e underdotted. pauiloun: Haue he Cristes malisoun! In-to þe pauiloun Gij him wond, & an hast þer he fond Alle atte mete þat þer was, & nouȝt michel noise þer nas. At þe heye bord eten kinges ten, Þat alle were Gyes fomen. Þan seyd Gij þe Englisse, 'Vnderstond to mi speche: Þilke lord þat woneþ an heye, Þat al þing walt fer & neye, & in þe rode lete him pini, Al cristen men to saui,sauei, but the e underdotted. & in þe se made þe sturioun, So ȝif ȝou alle his malisoun, & alle þilk þat ich here se, Þat mis-bileued men be; & þe at þe first, sir soudan, Cristes wreche þe come opan! Yuel fure breninde fast þe opon, & cleue þi brest doun to þi ton! For icham Gij ȝe mow well added over the line with another ink. se, Yuel mot ȝe alle y-the! Vnder-stond, treitour, mi resoun: Haue þou Cristes malisoun, & alle þilke forþ mitt te, Þat ich herr added over the line (with another ink?). about þe se. Þe heye god þat is ful of miȝt Binim ȝou ȝour limes & ȝour siȝt! Bi me þe sent word þemperour Garioun, Þat miȝti men haþ in his bandoun, Þurch wham þou art y-brouȝt to schond, & hoteþ þe wende out of his lond, For here has tow no riȝt. Finde a Sarrazin oþer a kniȝt, & he schal anoþer finde, Þat schal deray[ne] his riȝt kinde. Y schal wiþ þe glotoun fiȝt; & ȝif þine haue þe more miȝt, & ouer-comeþ our champioun, Mi lord þe schal ȝiue ransoun, & als his lord serue wille Euer more, & þat is skille. & ȝif it so bitide þat our kniȝt Ouer-come ȝour in feld in fiȝt, Hastiliche þan, y rede þe, Out of þis lond þat þou fle. Þer-of þou take a day: On mi lordes word, y þe say, To þi pauiloun ich am y-come, To do þe bateyle atte frome. Onswere me wiþ-outen lesing, What word y schal mi lord bring.' Quaþ þe soudan, 'whennes artow, Into mi courtadded at the end of the line. comen art now, & misseyst me so schameliche, & þretest me so dedeliche?' Gij answerd, 'ich-il þe telle: Mi name for-hele y nille. Gij of Warwike mi name is; In þat cuntre y was born y-wis.' Þe soudan answerd þo: 'Artow Gij, so mot þou go, Þou slouȝ mi nevou Cosdram: His heued þou smot þe bodi fram; Þou it schalt abigge, bi Apolin! Today is comen ending þin!' He hete anon þat Gij wer nome & y-cast in his prisoun, Fort þe cloþ ben y-drawe, & þan reweliche ben y-slawe. Gij drouȝ out his swerd anon, & priked his stede wel gode won. Bi seyn Denis he gan to swere, Ȝif ani man so hardi were, Þat him neyȝed wiþ schond, He schuld dye þurch his hond. Bifor þe soudan com Gyoun, & him biheld als a lyoun,MS. alyoun. & seyd, 'soudan, þou schalt abigge: Þine heued þou schalt forgon, y sigge.' Opon þe cheyer þer he sat Gij toke him bi þe top wiþ þat, & þat heued he dede of fle Opon þe bord of appel tre. Þe heued he toke in his hond, & in his lappe he it wond. Wel hastiliche he went him, y-wis, Of þe Sarraȝins adrede he is. . . . . . . . . . . An hundred heuedes he dede of flen Of þilke þat him stode oȝen. Wiþ him he forþ þat heued bar, Maugre alle þat þer war. Þurch þat ost he rode smartliche, His hors him bar hastiliche. Þer miȝt men se þe Sarrazin Bi on & on wende to Apolin. Wel fast after him þai come, & alle þai wold han him nome. Gij to aseylen þai wer ȝep; Vnarmed were þe most hep. Gij drouȝ him toward an hulle, Þe Sarrazins him driuen snelle: Boþe bibi on an erasure. hundred & þousende Him go þe Sarrazins driueinde. On ich half þai smiten him to, & he oȝain to hem also: Neuer no was an-lepy kniȝt Þat so mani stond miȝt. Bot god nim of him ȝeme, His liif it is michel awene. . . . . . . . . . . Listeneþ now & sitteþ stille: Of Herhaud ich ȝou telle wille, Þat of swoning no may him duelle. For his lord Gij, y ȝou telle, So michel sorwe him was an, Þat telle no miȝt he it noman. Euerich man is swiþe wo When he schal a godeMS. agode frende for-go: So was Herhaud for his lord fre; No wende he him neuer more y-se. Þan bigan his sorweinge, His herr in her added over the line. hehe omitted in MS. tar, his honden gan wring. 'Allas!' he seyd, 'sir Gij! Now ich wot wele siker-lye Þat y no schal þe neuer y-se; Allas! for sorwe wo is me!' For grete sorwe þat he hedde He fel adoun on his bedde, Þer he is y-falle on slepe, As a man weri of wepe. A sweuen him mett wel ferly, Þat he seye his lord sir Gij On his stede swiþe cominge, & on his hond his swerd kerueing; Aseyled he was wiþ wolues & bere: Vnneþe he miȝt him fram hem were Alle þai hadde to-broken his scheld, & his brini to-rent manifeld. Vnneþe he miȝt him were, So þai gun on him to tere. Wiþ þat is Herhaud awaked, & of his sweuen gret sorwe maked, & seyd anon to alle his compeynie, 'Felawes, wil we ous armi? Gij to help we ouȝt to spede; For to help he haþ gret nede, Wele ich wot bi mi sweuen. Now help ous god þat is in heuen!' Y-armed þai ben sone anon, & on hors þai lopen ichon, & wendeþ forþ wiþ gode wille Ouer þe dounes & þe dales snelle. Wiþ alle her miȝt þai heye fast For to socour Gij on hast. Þe Sarrazins þai gun þretni, & made gret sorwe for Gij. Þai seyd alle þat þer were, Hem dred þai him seye neuere; Oþer ded he was oþer y-nome, For him þai were sori alle & some. Sone þai neyȝed toward þat ost, Of Sarrazins þai herd gret bost; Of hem was wrin al þe feld, On hors þai were wiþ spere & scheld, Þat euerichon þai þretten Gij: Him to slen þai han gret envie. Amonges hem þai seye Gyoun Þat him wered als a lyoun.MS. alyoun. On ich half þai him aseyle, & he him werþ wiþ-outen feyle. Bi þe reynes þai ben him neye niminge, Ac he him werþ wiþ swerd kerueing; Mani he smot of fot & fest; He hadde al nede, la, wite Crist! Now þai bigin to prike swiþe, To socour Gij þai han gret hye. Herhaud him smot a Sarrazin, Þat litel him halp his Apolin. Þai smiten togider & fast þrung, Þai corwen þurch liuer & þurch lunge; Þe Sarrazins þai teche an iuel play, Euerich on oþer y-slawe lay. Herhaud is ful wele bifalle, He socourþe Gij wiþ his felawes alle. Amonges hem was gret gladn-esse: Þe most hepeȝepe? wepen for blis; Þai kisten Gij alle for blis, & þonked god ful ȝern, y-wis. ¶ Þe Sarrazins wenten alle oȝen, Sori & dreri alle þai ben. Þai token her lordes bodi þere, As sori wreches oway it bere; To Ascone þai ben þer-wiþ y-come, Y-schent þai ben alle & some. Gij, & Herhaud, & her meyne Glad & bliþe alle ben he. Þat heued þai han on a spere y-sett (Þer miȝt men se þat Gij was wel net), Bifore him bere þat it haþ y-do. Mani on pelt her finger þer-to. Into þe cite þai gun it bring, For ioie þai gun þe belles ring. Sir Gij to þemperour y-comen is, Þe heued he him ȝalt, y-wis: Þemperour gret þanke him can, & in þat cite he doþ make onan A piler of gray marbel ston: Þat heued he sett anon þer-on. In swiche wise deuised it was, Þat it was biwreyen in bras, Whar-þurch þat oþer miȝt ben war To come wiþ ani ost more þar. Þan Gij hadde y-don so Þemperour cleped Gij him to: 'Welcome be þou to me, sir Gij! Hennes for dayes þritti Michel monschip ichil þe do, Mi feir douhter ȝiue þe to.' To þemperour onswerd sir Gij, 'An hundred siþe, sir, gramerci!' . . . . . . . . . . Þemperour aros amorwe þo, To sen þe cuntre þai ben y-go; Alle þat day þai riden hem so Alle what euen, þai rested hem þo. Þai seye toward a pleyn plas Þat bisiden a dounMS. adoun was. A lyoun þai seye cominde þo, Bot a smal pas no miȝt he go, Wiþ ȝenende mouþe, & weri he was. Gij þat seye & seyd, 'allas! Whi, no haddestow help non?' Ac þat lyonMS. foly þai dradden ichon, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For wiþ a dragoun he hade y-fouȝt, & ouercomen he was nere him þouȝt. . . . . . . . . . . Gij anon asked his stede þo, His spere, & his swerd also: In his hond a gode swerd he bar; Þat y-seye alle þat þer war. When þe dragoun seye com Gij Þe lyoun he forlett, & gan him sayly. Wiþ open mouþe oȝaines him he come; Gij bar his spere oȝaines him anon: In-to his þrote he it þrest wiþ strengþe; In his bodi was alle his schaft lengþe, Þat ded to grounde he feld him þo. What schuld y make tales mo? He smot of þe heued, & went oway, & come to þemperour so sone so he may, Gyoun, wiþ riȝt gode wille: Þe lyoun after him folweþ snelle. Biforn him he goþ swiþe sket, & folwed him at his stede fet. His fet he licked, so ȝede he neye, & lepe vp on his stede an heye, & seþþe he lepe adoun anon, & made him gret joie opon. To þemperour is comen Gij, Þat of him was glad, sikerli. Alle þai bihelden þe lyoun, & hadde gret joie bot þe feloun, Morgadour þe steward, Þat euer was Gij oȝeinward. A liþer tresoun þan þouȝt he, Þat he wold þe lyoun sle. Wiþ þat into þe cite þai ben y-gon; Þemperour went vnto his tour of ston, & Gij is to his in y-go: Þe lyoun him folwed euer mo. Biforn his bed he goþ to ligge, Fram him he nold, for soþe to sigge. So long þai riden her jurneys, And þurch riden þe cuntreys, Þat to Costentin þai ben y-come. Þemperour haþ Gij on speche y-nome, & seyd, 'Gij, make þe redi: Tomorwe þou schalt mi douhter weddi.' Wel sweteliche him answerd sir Gij, 'Sir emperour, mow gramerci!' A morwe, so sone so it was day, Gij him schred in fou & gray; Wiþ him his felawes also, To chirche þai gon euer to & to. Wiþ þat þai ben to chirche y-come Worþschiplich alle & some, & þat maiden was also; Gret joie hadde al her kin þo. Þe erchebischop was comen also, Redi þe spouseing for to do. ¶ Þemperour seyd to Gij þere: 'Mi douhter ich ȝiue þe here, And þritti castels wiþ hir also, Wiþ þe worþschip þat liþ þer-to, And half mi lond ich ȝiue þe, Bifor mi barouns þat here be. Þou schalt ben emperour after me: Biforn hem alle y graunt it þe.' 'Alle,' he seyd, 'þat þou bedest me Ichil afong,' quaþ Gij, 'wiþ hert fre.' Þe erchebischopMS. erchebus|chop. come forþ Wiþ a ring, þat miche was worþ; He tok it Gij, & he it gan afong, & Gij bi-þouȝt him þan wel strong: He biþouȝt þan in his wille Þat Felice he schuld don vnskille; He þouȝt him repent & wiþ-drawe, Wheþer he miȝt hirher originally intended? lete oþer haue. Leuer him þouȝt to han hir bodi on Wiþ-outen siluer & gold & precious ston, Þan alle oþer þat were o liue Wiþ alle þe gode men miȝt him ȝiue. Gij sett him adoun anon, & seyd swiche iuel is comen him on, Þat he no may of þe stede gon, Him þenkeþ his hert brekeþ ato. Gij fel aswoning in þat plas, & aros vp sone after þas; Gij seyd an heye to þemperour: 'Sir, y þe pray paramour, Þat þis fest deleyed be Fort efsones, y bidde þe, Þat ich am apassed þis hache, & þat ic̄h in gode hele be.' Quaþ þemperour, 'þat reweþ me, Þis sposayl schal delayed be.' Þennes hij gon alle y-fere, Alle sone wiþ droupeand chere. Þat maiden wepe & was sori, For Gij no miȝt hir spousi, For neuer more hij no wende Wiþ loue com him hende; No ioie ne may comen hir inne, For hij no wende him neuer winne. Sche wrong hir honden & wepe sore, Sorwe made neuer wiman more; Sche wrong hir fingres & tar hir here, & curssed þe time þat moder hir ber, & þe time þat hye biȝeten was; Neuer woman wers nas. Gij is to his in y-go, No wist noman of his wo Bot him self: bi niȝt and day Al a fourten niȝt sike he lay, Þat he no com his bed fram, No out atte dore he no cam. Now wille we of Gij duelle, & of his lyoun ichil ȝou telle; Of his lyoun, hou he fard: Þer while þat Gij lay sike so hard Nold he noiþer ete no drink, Ac sorwe he made and gret morning. Gijj in Gij seems altered from f. cleped Herhaud him to, & alle his conseyl schewed him þo. 'Sir Herhaud,' he seyd, 'conseyl me: Of miQy. þi? conseyl ich oxi þe, Ȝif y schal þemperours douhter take, Or ȝete abide forþ & hir for-sake. Ich haue a leman in Inglond (To telle þe nil y nouȝt wond), Þerls douhter Rohaut y-wis, Felice, þat feir maiden of pris. Oþer þan hir loue y no may, Sir Herhaud, for soþe to say.' Herhaud onswerd: 'ichil ȝou telle Þe best conseyl ich haue in wille. Ȝif þou þemperours douhter afo Riche þou best euer mo: After him þou best emperour. God haþ y-don þe gret anour: In þe world ne worþ man of so gret miȝt, No of so gret pouer, y pliȝt. More riches þe worþ bi a þousandel Boþe of cites & of riche castel, Forestes ful of hertes beld, Þan þerl Rohaut haþ in weld.' 'Stille be þou,' quaþ Gij, 'of þat þouȝt. Now ich wot þou louest me nouȝt, When þou conseyls me mi leman fro. Mi liif to lese, nil ich it do.' 'Sir,' quaþ Herhaud, 'ich-il be stille, When it is oȝain þi wille. Þat þou hir louedest wist y nouȝt, & þo þou of conseyl me bisouȝt, Þe best ich wold ȝiue þe Þat ich hadde wiþ-in me. When þou Felice loues so, Vn-riȝt it were & þou hir for-go.' Gij aros after þe fourtenniȝt Glad & bliþe wiþ hert liȝt. He is to þe court y-come, & ful welcome to alle & some. Wiþ him his lyoun to court ȝe[de] þo,MS. ȝeþo. Þurch whom aros gret sorwe & wo. Þemperour of Gij wel bliþe he was; Into al þe court no noþer þer nas Al bot Morgadour, sikerliche: He hated Gij wel inliche. For þe maiden he hadde Gij in hete. Gij bileft in court atte mete, Him to play & solanci. Þo at þe court bileft sir Gij, Þer whiles þe king ate mete sat, Þe lyoun goþ to play wiþ-outen þe ȝat In pais wiþ-outen vilanie. Herkeneþ now, lordinges, gladli: When þemperour hadde y-hete, Gode while Gij haþ bi him sete, Wiþ him to pley in compeynie: Solas he loued wiþouten vilanie. Þat ich while his lyoun Ȝede out of þe pauiloun: Al abouten he is y-go, For to resten him in a wro: Oȝain þe sonne he slepe in a stede, Gret while of þe day & so he dede. When Gij wold his way he nam, Vnto his in þat he cam. Þe lyoun no folwed him nouȝt, In an erber he slepe wel soft. Þan was þe steward goinde, In-to an orchard al-on cominde. Vnder a windowe he him seye Wher þe lyoun lay wel neye, For to resten him in a wro. 'Bi god,' quaþ þe steward þo, 'Þe lyoun liþ here now slepeing,' Seyd Morgadour in his þouȝt þenking. A scharpe wepen þer forþ he drouȝ, & þe lyoun þer-wiþ he slouȝ. Þe lyoun afrayd vp stert, As he þat was to deþ y-hert. Ac a maiden þat y-seye, & grad to þe steward an heye: 'Sir steward, þat was iuel y-smite. In vnworþschip it worþ þe at-wite.' Þe lyoun him goþ forþ groning, His guttes after him draweing. To Gyes in he is y-go, In a chaumber he fond him þo: At his fete he fel doun in þat stede, To hauen of him socour at nede. His hondes he gan to licky: Þat was his loue, sikerly. When Gij þat lyoun wounded seþ, For sorwe him þouȝt his hert clef. 'O lord,' he seyd, 'god almiȝt, Who haþ þe so iuel y-diȝt? Þat mi lyoun haþ y-slawe me, Y nold it wer don for þis cite, No þat þer-to bilonge. So michel sorwe me haþ afong.' In swiche wretþe & grame anouȝ His gode swerd wiþ strengþe he drouȝ; Seþþen on his stede he wond, His swerd y-drawe in his hond: To þe court he com prikeing. Wele hij seyen bi his lokeing Þat he is sori & swiþe wroþ: Alle oȝaines him þai goþ. 'Lordinges,' quaþ Gij, 'ich ȝou biseche, Ȝif ani of ȝou me can teche, Who slouȝ mi lyoun to-day.' Alle þai seyd, 'sir, certes, nay.' Wiþ þat into þe halle he come, A maiden he mett þer anon. ¶ 'Sir Gij,' she seyd, 'leue swete, Is þi lyoun ded, or liues ȝete? For þurchout smite ichim seye.' Þo seyd Gij: 'mi swete lef, ney, Ich þe bidde, for-hele it nouȝt, Who haþ mi lyoun to deþ y-brouȝt?' 'Sir,' sche seyd, 'Morgadour, Þat is steward wiþ þemperour: Þurch þe bodi he him smot. His deþ it worþ, wele y wot.' When he herd þat ich feloun Hadde y-slawe his lyoun, Out of halle he gan driue Fram chaumber to chaumber al-so swiþe, Wiþ naked swerd in his hond: Ȝif he him findeþ he goþ to schond. Into a chaumber he com þat stounde, & Morgadour sone he founde Wiþ his nevou in conseyl fast: When þai seye Gij þai weren agast. Gij seyd: 'þou me hast bitreyd When þou to grounde mi lyoun leyd. No dede ich þe neuer bot gode, Þou fel treytour, vnkinde blod.' ¶ Morgadour answerd anon, Stalworþ kniȝt as he was on: 'Þou lexst amidward þi teþ, & þer-fore haue þou maugreþ. Whi berstow me on treysoun, Þat ich haue sleyn þi lioun?' Gij wiþ his kniif smite he wold, Ac Gij him suffri nold: His swerd anon vp he hef, Morgadour doun riȝt he clef Fram þe heued doun to þe fot: Of þat stroke no com him neuer bot. When his nevou y-seye þat cas, Þat his emnevou MS, eme Turnbull. so smiten was, Him to awreke him þouȝt long, & as he schuld his dart afong, His arme atvo smot Gij, & he him anon crid merci. Gij for rewþe is þennes y-gcn, & cam to þemperour anon, & seþþe he seyd to þemperour: 'Ich haue þe serued wiþ gret honour; Ȝolden þou hast me iuel mi while, When þi folk þurch tresoun & gile Haue mi lyoun to deþ y-brouȝt. Mi while is iuel ȝalt: he it haþ abouȝt. For soþe he me to þe biwreyd, & now to grounde mi lyoun is leyd. Ded he liþe al to-hewealto hewe MS. Þi steward, at wordes fewe: Wele ich haue ȝolden him his treysoun, & þat he slouȝ mi lyoun. Seþþe þou no miȝt nouȝt waranti me, Whar-to schuld y serui þe, On oncouþe man in thi lond, When þou no dost him bot schond? Harm me is, & michel misdo; Þer-fore ichil fram þe go, & in oþer cuntres serue y wile, Þer men wille ȝeld me mi while.' 'Merci, sir Gij,' seyd þemperour þo. 'Ȝif ani of our haþ þe misdo, Swiche riȝt do als tow wilt, & take þe amendes after þe gilt; For alle þai schul be þine men [an]on, In þi nede serue þe ichon, & at þi wille take her catel. Wiþ-drawe þi mod, sir, y biddei in bidde altered from e? þe wel: Ich wil þatow to-morwen arly Mi douhter at þe chirche spousy.' ¶ Gij answerd: 'þerof speke nouȝt: Hir to nim nam ich nouȝt biþouȝt; For, ȝif þou haddest me hir ȝiue, & ich hir toke þer whiles y liue, Þan wold þi men anon, Þat wonderful be mani on, Þe seggen wiþ deshonour Þou haddest made a pouer man emperour, & vnworþ þai wold holden of me, & sum edwite þer wold be Þat þi douhter desperplid were, Ȝif þou to me hadde ȝiuen me h. ȝ. on an erasure.her here. Leuer ich hadde litel wiþ worþschipe Þan michel welden wiþ schenschipe. Þer-fore, sir emperour, y þe telle, In non maner bileuen y nille. Whende ichil in-to mi cuntre, Mine frendes to visite & to se.' Leue he toke wiþ þat speche, & seyd, 'godes sone y þe biteche.' When þemperour wiþ-holden him no may (He seþ his wille is to wende o-way), Wepen he gan wiþ his eyȝen tvo: Alle þo of þe court dede al-so. His grete tresour he dede forþ bring, & bede it Gij to his likeing, Ac þerof liked him nouȝt to take: Anouȝ he hadde ofOne letter erased after of. Sarrazins blake. Al-so a gode man dede þemperour þere: Þer-after to alle Gyes fere Riche tresour þan ȝaf he, Gold and siluer gret plente, As miche as þai wold vnder-fo; For þemperour it comend so. Gret [pris] þai ȝeue þemperour, Þat he was man of gret honour. Gij diȝt him wiþ riche dubbeing, Riche wede he dede for him bring. Of þemperour he toke his leue, & he al wepend it him ȝeue, & alle þe kniȝtes of the cite, Of euerichon leue nam he. Þer miȝt men se sorwe make, For sir Gij wold fram hem rake; Wimen & children mani on, For him þai wepen euerichon: Þer whiles he was in her ferred, Of no wer no stode hem drede. ¶ Þemperour cleped Herhaud him to, & aresound him tvene hem tvo: 'Sir Herhaud, þou schalt bileue wiþ me. Wele ich þe sigge, & siker þou be, Þat ich in þis ȝere wille ȝiue þe Þe richest honour þat in mi lond be.' 'Sir,' quaþ Herhaud, 'gramerci! Wele ȝe wite icham wiþ sir Gij. Y no wil depart him fro For non honour men may me do.' Sir Gij to his in is y-go, & areliche amorwe he aros þo: Into Inglond he went, god itot, Ac when þemperour þat soþe wot, Þat Gij þe curteys is y-go, At his hert him was ful wo; So was BlauncheflourSo MS. þe schene: For his loue sche þoled tene. Toward Inglond is Gij y-drawe, & wiþ him Herhaud, his gode felawe. Swiþe hastiliche þai gun ride, Þe weder was hot in somers tide. ¶ In May it was also ich wene, When floures sprede & springeþ grene: Into a forest sir Gij is go Neye a cite, nouȝt fer þer-fro. Þan seyd Gij to his meyney: 'Wendeþ swiþe wel an heye, Mine in to nimThere seems to be a stroke too many (ninn or niun) in the MS. in þe cite; Ich wil a while here pleye me, For to here þe foules singe.' Þer-in was þo his likeinge. His folk he doþ fram him go, Alon bileft sir Gij þo: Hadde he noiþer knaue no grome, Seriaunt no squier non. Selcouþe it was for to here: In priue stede stode Gij þere; So michel he herd þo foules sing, Þat him þouȝt he was in gret longing. So mani þinges he of þouȝt, Þat out of his riȝt way him brouȝt. So long forþ he is rideing, In his weye forþ secheing, Þat o groning fram fer he herd: He of-list, & thider he ferd. Þe mening seyd, 'allas, allas, Þat ich was born for swiche trespas! Ac now is me iuel bifelle: Deþ, whi wiltow so long duelle?' Þiderward sir Gij him drouȝ, And loked vnder an hawe-þorn bouȝ. Þe bodi he seye of a kniȝt: Þerof he hadde wonder, apliȝt. Feir & michel he him seþ: Gij þenkeþ michel, & nouȝt no seyþ. Þat hors he prikeþ, & forþ he goþ: Þat bodi he bihalt inliche forsoþ. His barbel first adoun he deþ, Wiþ-outen colour his neb he seþ For þe blod he hadde for-lore, Þat of his bodi he hadde forþ bore. Y-girt he was wiþ a gode swerd, Þat was wele kerueand doun to þe uerd.Read nerd? Wele he was y-armed gentilliche. Gij of him hadde reuþe miche: His name he asked sweteliche, Who him biseye so reweliche. 'What is þi name? where wer þou bore? & who haþ y-wounded þe so sore? Ich þe bidde þatow say me, & for soþe y pliȝt þe For me schaltow harm haue non. Who haþ þe þus iuel bi-gon?' He answerd, 'þat wille y nouȝt. In mine hert is swiche sorwe brouȝt, Þat y dar schewe þe no speche. Lete me dye, y þe biseche. So michel sigge y þe, sir kniȝt,The k looks as if the scribe had begun to write a g. Ȝif þou wilt pliȝt me anon riȝt Þi treuþe in hond mine, Siker þou be þat al mi pine & alle mine estris ichil telle þe; Elles no wostow it nouȝt for me.' His treuþe sone he him pliȝt, His liif he teld him anon riȝt. Now he seyd: 'sir kniȝt fre, Mi nameadded above the line in the same hand. y þe telle, & whennes y be. Of Gormoise icham cleped Tirri, Þeld erls sone Aubri. Wiþ þe douke of Loreyne ichaue y-be. . . . . . A feir douhter þan hadde he: . . . . . Ouer alle oþer we loueden ous, & for loue treuþe pliȝten þus. For non oþer sche nold me lete, No y no louedThe d above the line in the same hand. non bot þat swete In godes lawe, for soþe y-wis: Swiche aA letter erased before a, and another after it. treuþe bitvix ous is. Armes for hir loue y nam, & now y thouȝt to han went ham. Mi priis ichaue wide y-souȝt Fram stede to oþer, no wond y nouȝt. ¶ Þan come fram hir to me a sond Þat brouȝt me miche sorwe an hond, Þat þe douke Otus of Paui Wald mi leman spousey, To wham ich was treuþe-pliȝt: Oisel was hir name ful riȝt; Þat bi letters sche sent to me, & bi toknes þat wer so fre, Þat, ȝif ich hir habbe wold, Þat to hir comen y schold To on day þat was y-sett, Oþer sche worþ fro me fett. To hir ward y gan spede Wiþ þritti kniȝtes in mi ferred: Eueriche of ous his stede bistrode, & riden ous forþ wiþouten abode, Wher þe douke Otus was & his ferred Wiþ an hundred kniȝtes of gret pride, & wele to hundred of seriaunce Of Lombardy & of Fraunce, For to spouse min owhen wiif, Þat y loued more þan mi liif. When y þat wist y sent hir to So priueliche so ich miȝt it do, Þat hij schuld come to me: For gret loue so dede sche; To me sche come þurch queyntise Doun of þe castel in selcouþe wise Bi on cable alle sleyeliche, Þat folk it no founde, sikerliche. Y sett hir on a mule amblinde, In þe way we dede ous rideinde. Ac þer ich dede gret child-hod, Þat alto long y þer a-bod. At our wending of þat cite Þe liȝt day we miȝten se: Þer we were y-knowen þo At a brigge as we hadde go. Þat ich for Oisel was y-come, Hir fader it was teld atte frome. Þurch þe cite þe crie was gradde Þe maiden was oway ladde. Þer miȝt men se kniȝtes on hors wende, & me þai of-token at þe brugge ende. Þer we stronglich mett wiþ hem: Mani we slowen of her men. Alle þai slouȝ mine feren, Þat swiþe gode kniȝtes weren. Me þai come to nim snelle, Ac y nold no longer duelle: Ich toke mi leman on mi stede, & ouer þat water wiþ hir ich ȝede. Alle þat day þai driuen me, Alle fort þai no miȝt for niȝt y-se. When y was passed þe riuer ariȝt In hert y was glad & liȝt: Þat water passi þai no durstin, Þan owayward turn þai mostin. In þis forest y come rideinde, Bifor me mi leman ledeinde: Y no dred robours no thef non, Ac al siker ich wende forþ gon. What of wakeing, & of fasting, & eke þat oþer treueyling, Osleped swiþe sore ich was, & lay & slepe in þis plas. Þan com fiftene outlawes strong Wiþ her men, & here me afong. Alle slepende þai wounded me. Anon riȝt nomen he Mi leman, & þai han hir ladde fro me. Now, sir, take þerof pite: Bi þe treuþe þou hast me pliȝt, Socour mi leman ȝif þou miȝt, &, when þat ich dede be, Do me birij, ich bidde þe. To þat hulle þou wende anon: Þou hem findes þer ichon. & ȝif þat þou so miȝti be, Þatow may hem alle sle, Winne þou miȝt a maiden fre: In þe warld may non feirer be. & ȝete y may þe more telle: Mi stede þai han, þat is so snelle, Þat wiþ strengþe in Peyneme ich wan Of Solagimis, þe sone soudan. Þer-fore men han y-boden me .Xv. castels, & touns, & riche cite,s erased after cite. And .xv. somers of siluer & of gold, Ac for an hundred ȝiuen ichit nold. Now þou hast, sir, alle y-hers erased after cite., Hou ich am bitreyd & amerd. Take mi scheld, & mi hauberk of stiel & mi swerd, þat biteþ wel, & mine armes ich am in diȝt (For ich þe se man of miche miȝt), To quite þi treuþe þou hast y-pliȝt.' Þan stode þer sir Gij vp-riȝt: Wel depe in hert he haþ y-siȝt. Grete pite he haþ of þat kniȝt: He knewe Tirri for his frende, Þat lay þer in hard bende. 'Sir,' he seyd, 'bi treuþe mine Þat ich haue pliȝt in hond þine, Euen forþ mi miȝt ich-il help þe: More miȝt þou nouȝt oxi me.' Wiþ þat haþ Gij his brond y-nome, & his hauberk atte frome, His scheld, & his oþer wede, & to þe hulle in gret periil he ȝede. A loge stonden þer he seye, & þer wiþ-outen a gode stede & heye, Þat was to a bouȝ y-teyd. Gij þeron his talent leyd: Sterneliche prikeing he come, His swerd he drouȝ out anon. He aliȝt, & seyd at his cominge: 'Þeues, ȝe be ded, wiþouten lesinge. Awarid worþ ȝe ichon, Boþe ȝour flessche & ȝour bon. Whi slouȝ ȝe þat ich kniȝt? Alle ȝe schul die anon riȝt. & ȝif ani so hardi be, Þat hennes stir toward me, Ichi underdotted after I. wille ȝou for soþe say He bes þe first þat schal day.' An Almaunde he arauȝt: His heued of at þe first drauȝt. Ar ani of hem hem were miȝt, Alle he hem slouȝ, y ȝou pliȝt. Þo he hadde hem slaun ichon, He lepe opon his stede anon. Comen he is to þat mayde, Wel sweteliche to hir he seyde, 'Na more sori þou no be, Ac arise vp, & com wiþ me: To þi leman y bringe þe sket Vnder þe þorn þer þou him let.' Opon a mule sche warþ anon, To þe hawe-þorn þai ben y-gon, Ac þai no haue nouȝt þe kniȝt y-founde: Y-ladde he was owai þat stounde. Þo he fond him nouȝt, he was sori; For he wend wel sikerli Þat lyouns him hadde to-drawe. He loked adoun vnder þe wode schawe, If he ouȝt y-herd loude or heye: Of hors traces hy þer seye. ¶ Þat maiden he lete þare, & after swiþe he is y-fare. So fast he rode, þat he com neye Four kniȝtes he þer seye. Gij of-toke sone þat ferrede, & seye þan kn[i]ȝt wiþ hem lede. Gij,j altered from þ. þat heye rode on his stede, Ȝernne he bad ȝif he miȝt spede. To þe kniȝtes sir Gij him sade: 'Lordinges, þilke lord þat ȝou made, & þe niȝt & þe briȝt day, Ȝou do worþschipe so wele he may. Ȝif it be ȝour wille speke wiþ me: To mi speche vnder-stond ȝe. Lordinges, ich haue mi treuþe y-pliȝt To him þat ȝe lede, þ[i]lke kniȝt, Þat biri y schal his bodi: Mi treuþe y him pliȝt, sikerly. Al for loue ich ȝou biseche His bodi þat ȝe me biteche.' Þat o kniȝt went to him ward, Þat was þe douke Otus steward, Þat hadde y-passed þe riuere In a bot þat he fond þere, & seyd to Gij, 'who artow? Als a fole comen artow now. Comestow now to aski riȝt To haue þe bodi of our kniȝt, For his fere we nim þe snelle, To þe douke Otous lede we þe wille, & ȝe schul boþe demed be, & heye hong on galwe tre.' Gij him seyd, 'þou miseyst, &, bi mine heued, þou it abeyst.' . . . . . . . . . . Opon þe heued Gij him smot, Vnto þe girdel stede þat swerd bot. Anoþer he smot riȝt anon, Spare nold [he] neuer on. Of his hors he has him feld, His heued he dede fleye in þe feld. Wiþ þat come þe gode Hogoun, Þe doukes nevou OtounMS. of toun.: He smot Gij on þe scheld bifore, Þat neye he haþ his swerd forlore. For schame he hadde of þe stroke þare Gij smot Hogoun, and nouȝt him for-bare: Ouer-þuert þat swerd glod, & to-clef him wiþouten abod. Wharto schuld y make tale of nouȝt? Alle he haþ hem to deþ y·brouȝt. He nam Tirri in his armes anon, & sett him his hors opon. To þat hawe-þorn he is y-fare, ÞanLooks like an at first sight, the Þ being partially covered by the ornaments of the large L in the next line. fond he nouȝt þat maiden þare. Lete we now of Gij be stille: More ȝe schul here ȝif ȝe wille Of þat maiden, hou sche was nome: Þan schal we til our tale come. Of Gyes felawes y wille ȝou telle So y finde in mi spelle, Þat so long were in þe cite, Wonder hem þenkeþ where Gij be; For þe mete was alle ȝare, Wonder hem þouȝt wer Gij ware. ¶ Herhaud of Ardern & oþer mo In-to þe forest þai ben y-go: Þai miȝt [him] finde for no secheing. Herhaud cast sone his lokeing: Biside him he herda wiman under|dotted after herd aa above the line mening, Also it were a woman schricheing. Hye bi-gan loude to grede: Herhaud neyȝed & his ferrede. Þe haweþorn þai ȝede wel neye, & þe maiden þer þai seye. Herhaud hir oxed what hij was; Sche no told him nouȝt al her cas, Bot þat sche was a wriche wiman Þat michel sorwe so was an; For alle þat sorwe þan hade he, For sche no miȝt hir leman se. Sche forbede him anon riȝt Þat noman sett on hir siȝt. Herhaud tok þat mayde wiþ him, & ladde hir hom to his in. Now wende we oȝain to our spelle, Þat ȝe me herd er þan telle Of Gij and Tirri, þerls sone, Hou þai ben to þe hawe-þorn come. When hij þider y-comen were, No fond hij nouȝt þe maiden þere. Gij bileft þer sir Tirri, & souȝt þat maiden bi & bi: Op and doun he ȝede hir secheinde, & sorwefulliche hir bimeninde. He wende sche were stole wiþ outlawe, Oþer wiþ wilde bestes y-drawe. For hir in hert him was ful wo, Þat he no wist what to do: No wist he what do he miȝt, To þe cite he went anon riȝt; When he hir finde no may, Homward he most take þe way. Þan toke he þat kniȝt: On his stede nek he sett him riȝt. Y-comen he is to þe cite: His men al sori findeþ he, &, when hij her lord seye come, Bliþe þai were alle & some. 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'nimeþ þis bodi, & to þe grounde it lay wel softli.' Þe bodi þai toke of þat kniȝt, Opon a pal leyd it anon riȝt. Gij haþ of-sent leches þere, Þe wisest þat in þat cite were. 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'vnderstond to me. Ȝif ȝe þis kniȝt þat ȝe here se, May on him his woundes hele, It worþ ȝou ȝolden eueridele. Ȝif he dede or liues be, Ich bi-hot ȝou, min frende fre, Him to hele ȝour miȝt ȝe do: An hundred besaunce y ȝif þer-to.' Þai groped his veynes & his wounde, Þai feld hem boþe hole & sounde: Wele hii seþ he nis nouȝt dede. Þe leches taken hem to rede, In forward hele him þai wille, In non maner lete þai nille. ¶ Þerwhiles of-herd sir Gij Noise, & wepe, & wel gret crie. His chaumberleyn he cleped him to, & alle in wretþe he oxed him þo Who it was þat noise made. 'Bid hem alle be bliþe & glade.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'a maiden it is Þat Herhaud fond, wel feir, y-wis, Vnder an hawe-þorn in þe forest.' Quaþ Gij, 'fete hir to me in hast, Swiþe þat ich miȝt hir se. Now hastiliche bringeþ hir to me.' Þe chaumberleyn is forþ y-gon, & brouȝt hir bi-forn hem anon. Gij hir knewe, & gan hir gret, 'Welcome be þou, mi lef swete,' As sche was into þe halle y-come, Wepeinde & sorwende vnder-nome. Wiþ þat hij seye þat bodi, y-wis, Liggend on a pal of pris. ¶ 'A, leman Tirri,' quaþ sche þo, 'What, y se þi neb al blo, Þat so white of colour was: Þi better neuer y-born nas. In wroched time mi bodi þou say, When þou schalt for me day. Dye ich-il forþ wiþ þe: For sorwe liues no may y be. Bot y may dye ichil me quelle: Lenge seems altered from i. to libbe is nouȝt mi wille. Seþþen þou hast þi deþ for me, For soþe dye ich-il for þe.' When sche seye Tirri, hir leman, Ouer him sche fel aswon onan. Gij hir in his armes nam, & seyd to hir, 'mi leue leman, No make þou nouȝt sorwe so miche: Þi leman worþ hole hastiliche.' In þat cite þai bi-leued þere What Tirry was hole & fere. To þe wode þai ben y-go: Miche loue was bitven hem to. On a day, as þai com fram hunting, Gij seyd to Tirry, wiþ-outen lesing: 'Ich wil þat we be treuþe-pliȝt & sworn breþer anon riȝt. Tirri,' seyd to sir Gyoun, 'Vnder-stond now to mi resoun, Þat noiþer oþerRead oure? after þis No faile oþer while he liues is.' ¶ Wiþ þat answerd þerl Tirri, & seyd, 'wel bleþelich, sir Gij. Now þou louest so miche me, Þat tow mi sworn broþer wil be, No wille ich neuer feyle þe For nouȝt þat mai bi-falle me. Gret worþschip þou hast don me: God leue me ȝete þan day y-se Þat ichit þe mow wele ȝeld. For gode baroun þou art y-held; Fram deþ þou hast y-warist me; Wel gret wrong it schuld be Bot ich þe loued as mi lord fre. Wel gret worþschip ich ouȝt bere þe.' Treuþe bitven hem is pliȝt, & after kist anon riȝt. Seþþen þai went in-to þe cite Wiþ ioye & mirþe, gamen & gle. Now Gij him makeþ him alle ȝare Into Inglond for to fare. Tirri he wald lede wiþ him þe & Oysel, his leman, þat he loued so. To þe king þai wold hem aqueynti, & gode þrowe wiþ him soiornni. Biteche he him wille his castels alle, So he him biþouȝt, ȝif it miȝt falle. ¶ It was opon a somers day, Gij out at a windowe lay. To Tirri he spac of her fare, Of her wele & of her care. Wiþ þat com prikeing anon riȝt A kniȝt: he semed wele, apliȝt,apliȝt not quite distinct. Wele he semed he treuaild were. Gij anon clept to him þere: 'Sir kniȝt,' he seyd, 'whennes comestow? & what þou sechest telle me now.' ¶ Þe kniȝt answerd, 'ich-iljich il MS. þe telle, & nouȝt þerof leyȝen y nille. Tirri of Gurmoise y go secheinde, Þerl sone Aubri wele doinde. In mani londes ich haue him souȝt.' 'Wharto?' quaþ Gij, 'hele it nouȝt.' 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'y telle þe sone Of a gret sorwe, þat is y-done. Tirri serued þe douke Loyere: Þe douke him loued, and held him dere, & ȝaf him armes wiþ gret honour: Kniȝt he bicome of gret valour. Þe douke hadde a feir douhter for þe meistri, Þat was y-ȝouen to þe douke of Paui: Tirri hir loued & oway ladde, Whar-þurch mani man þe deþ hadde. Wiþ strengþe him folwed kniȝtes bliue: Y not wher he be ȝete oliue. ¶ Þe douke Loyer biþouȝt him þo Opon his fader for to go. Þe douke Loyer wiþ him ladde Þe douke of Paui þider he hadde Wiþ his gode cheualrie, Þe best of al Lombardye. In Gormoise þerl bisett han he, And destrud alle his cuntre. Bot god me leue Tirri finde, Þat he be his fader helpinde, Al his lond him tit for-go: No schal he it oȝain win neuer mo. His fader no may armes weld, No no lenge help himself for eld.' ¶ 'Sir kniȝt,' þan seyd sir Gij, 'Her wiþ ous þou schalt herberwei, & of þerl Tirri telle y þe Ȝif ich ouȝt can, mi frende fre.' 'Gramerci, sir,' þan seyd he. 'Of him to here leue war me.' Gij hete his folk hastiliche Þat hye him vnder-feng curteysliche. 'Ich-il þe telle,' quaþ sir Gij, 'Þat y can of þerl Tirri.' When þai hadde d[r]onken in þe halle, & glad þai were, y telle ȝou, alle, ¶ Þan seyd þerl Tirri: 'For loue y bidde þe, sir Gij, Oȝain to mi cuntre com wiþ me, Als-so we sworn breþer be, Mi fader to help þat we spede; For of help he haþ gret nede.' 'Be stille,' seyd Gij, 'what seystow me? Þat day to god vnworþi y be, Ȝif y, sir Tirri, feyle þe, Þerwhiles þat ich haue liif in me.' 'Sir Gij,' he seyd, 'gramerci: Þilke y sigge þe, sikerly.' Now sendeþ Gij after kniȝtes snelle, Almaines swiþe & of gode wille To him þer come gret plente: Er þe twenti day y-comen be, Fif hundred kniȝtes hardi & hende To Tirri come for his frende, & seyd to Tirri, 'to þi fader we wil gon: Wele we it auȝt to don; Wel redi we ben ichon.' So long þai han forþ y-gon, Y-comen þai ben to Gormoise. In þat cite was gret noise. In an euening þai com to þe cite, Þat hye wiþ-outen aperceiued nar he. Wel glad him was þerl Aubri Of the cominge of his sone Tirri, & of sir Gyes coming, Þat gode kniȝt was, wiþ-outen lesing. Her eyȝen watred for gladnesse, Alle þai ȝede oȝain him to kisse. 'Leue fader,' seyd sir Tirri, 'Worþschip wele now sir Gij: Felawes we ben treuþe-y-pliȝt. Y wil þat ȝe it wite now riȝt: Fram deþ he haþ y-heled me.' Quaþ þerl: 'godgod added above the line. y-þonked mot it be. Hennes forward alle þat min is To his wille schal ben, y-wis, His hest to don & his wille Erliche & lat, loude & stille. A wel eld man ich am, y-wis: Þat y bar armes tventi ȝer it is; Y-lorn ich haue cheualrie: Of mi lond haue þou þe meistrie.' Þan y-herberwed weren he Worþschipliche in þat cite. In þe cite gret noise is made: Of þe barouns com þai ben wel glade. Þer-in is now þerl Aubri, So is sir Gij & sir Tirri. An arnmorwe aros sir Gij, & cleped to him his compeynie. Bifor þerl þan þai ferden, & a gret crie þai herden Of þe barouns of þe cite. Anon oxed Gij þe fre Of þat noise what it was. A squier told him al þat cas: 'Þe douke steward Loyer For present he comeþ to iusti here Ȝif he finde wiþ whom to do, Þat ani kniȝt durst cum him to.' Sir Gij answer[d], 'ȝif y may Þerof him worþ his fille to day. Lordinges,' he seyd, 'ginneþ ȝou armi, & gin whe hem to asaily. Sir erl Tirri,' Gij him sede, 'Take to hundred kniȝtes in þi ferred: Þe lordinges to aseyl ȝe go.This line added in the same hand at the end of the column (after l. 5076). In Herhaud & in me trist also. We wil abide in þis cite, In þi nede we schul socour þe.' Tirri nimeþ wiþ him kniȝtes To hundred armed in fiȝtes. Out of þe cite he nam his way, Mani scheld he to-drof þat day. Tirri smot wiþ gret miȝt Opon þe helmes, þat schine briȝt. Þurch þe bodi a kniȝt he bar, Ded he feld him adoun þar. Anoþer lording he smot þo, His hauberk nas him worþ a slo. Þurch his bodi þe brond went: Ded he feld him verrament. Ich on of hem þat he toke, he slouȝ, Were it wiþ riȝt, were it wiþ wouȝ. Wel fel kniȝtes þer weren y-feld, Þat lay long streȝte in þe feld: Sum were þurch þe bodi wounde, And sum lay ded opon þe grounde. So wele dede þerl Tirri, & wiþ him alle his compeynie. Þe lordinges þai han so þurch-gon, Þat ded þai fel mani on. Tirri smot to þe constable: Of his stede he feld him, wiþ-outen fable, & ney he hadde him wonne in fiȝt. Þer com an hundred kniȝtes of gret miȝt: Alle þai folwed him abaundoun, & he mett wiþ hem als a lyoun. Mani heuedes he dede of fle: Alle þat he smot ded most be. Tirri mis-dede nouȝt for þan: Þer he les his feren euerich man. Þurch strengþe of þe lordinges snelle, Fif hundred of kniȝtes felle, Tirries felawes ben ouer-come, Of-held, y-slawe, oþer y-nome. Ac Tirri hem goþ þan meteing Wiþ mani strok of his brond kerueing: A fot no deyned him nouȝt to fle, No his stede wiþ-wende oȝe. His feren he rescoud as a gode kniȝt: Mani on he feld ded anon riȝt. Þan seyd Herhaud, 'leue sir Gij, Sestow now þe gode erl Tirri? Of grete valour now so is he: His better wot y non bot te. Him to socour we auȝt to go.' Gij him answerd, 'we schul so.' Forþ þai ȝede wiþ gode welle: Þe lordinges hij astounded snelle. Wiþ þat com forþ sir Gij, In his hond his swerd blodi. Wel heteliche he smot a kniȝt, His bodi he clef adoun riȝt. Anoþer kniȝt he smot anon, Þat ded he feld him on þe ston. Sir GijAdded above the line. him smot to Gayer, Þat was þe doukes nevou Loyer: Of his hors he haþ him feld Þurch TirriesThe second i added above the line. help in þe feld. For he smot his felawe, In þe sond he haþ him slawe. Herhaud smot anoþer forþ, His armes was him nouȝt worþ: Þurch his bodi þe swerd ȝede; Ded he feld him of his stede. Anoþer he smot him as gode kniȝt, Of his stede he feld him doun riȝt. Now þai ginne togider smite: Non no spared oþer bot lite. Togider þai smite hard wiþ alle, Mani on þer was ded & doun falle. Who þat seye þan þerl Tirri Wiþ his felawe sir Gi, & Herhaud of Arderne þe gode, Þat wele to smite was in his mode, So mani þai nomen & feld þat day, Is non þe best chese may Of þre kniȝtes so wele doinde, Oȝain þe Loreyns fiȝting. Gij to þe steward haþ y-smite, Of his hors he feld him wiþ hete: Þurch strengþe of fiȝt he him wan. Þe oþer oway fleye ich man: Gij & Tirri hem folweþ stron[g]liche & her feren,MS. ferren. hardiliche. Alle þai ben ded oþer ouer-come: Þer bileued non vnnome. Gij & Tirri oȝain ben y-gon: Wiþ hem þai ladde her prisouns ichon. Whar-to schuld y þer-of lye? Þat day þai hadde þe maistrie. Þan com forþ a kniȝt þer, Þe tiding teld þe douke Loyer: 'Sir douk,' he seyd, 'vnder-stond to me. To ben awreken now biþenke þe. Bifor Gormoise þat cite On arnemorwe þan come we Wiþ fif hundred of gode kniȝtes: An acumbraunce ous come anon riȝtes. Alle nomen & slawen ben hye: Oȝein ne beþ nouȝt comen fourti. Repeired is þerl sir Tirri, Wiþ him of Warwike sir Gij,l. 5170 before 5168 in MS. Herhaud of Ardern, þe gode marchis, & wiþ hem fif hundred kniȝtes of pris, Þat gode ben to fiȝt & modi. Þine kniȝtes þai han slayn bi & bi.' Þe douk answerd, 'is it soþe þis, Þat þerl Tirri repeired is, Gij of Warwike, & Herhaud also, & her feren, þat gode ben, mo: Þe fende hem haþ þider y-brouȝt. To slen ous alle þai han in þouȝt.' ¶ Þan bi-spac Otus of Paui (To Gij he bar gret envie): 'No-þing, sir, desmay þou þe: Ful wel we schul awreken be. To morwe we schal to þe cite go Wiþ a þousend kniȝtes & mo: & ȝif þe treytours y-founden be, We schul hem aseyle, y telle þe. Euerichon þai worþen ded.' Quaþ þe douk, 'þat is a gode red.' Wel erliche þai arisen þo, & to the cite þai ben y-go, & a þousend kniȝtes in her compeynie, Þe best þat were in Lombardye. Alle þai þreten sir Gij, Him for to slen & sir Tirri. To-gider fast þai gun smite Wiþ swerdes þat wil wele bite. Als Gij com fro chirche go, Into a pleyne he loked þo: He seye þe doukes ost was neye: So mani kniȝtes þer he seye. Þan þerl Tirri he cleped him to, & to him wiȝtliche spac þo: 'Sir erl,' he seyd, 'what schal we do? Alle þe ost of Loreine y se, lo,An erasure before lo. Þe ost of Loreyne wele y-diȝt Wiþ scheldes & wiþ brinis briȝt. Þe douk of Paui is y-come, By his armes y knowe þat gome. Y no may himhe struck out after him. loue, he is mi fo: Gret wille me comeþ oȝain him go.' Þerl seyd, 'arme we ous euerichon: A þousend kniȝtes schul wiþ ous gon.' Gij him mett wiþ þerl Iordan, Lord he was of alle Melan. He smot him ouer þe gilden scheld, Ded he feld him in þe feld. Anon he smot anoþer kniȝt, Þat ded he feld him anon riȝt. ¶ Wiþ þat come prike þerl Tirri, & mett wiþ a kniȝt hiȝt Amori, Þat was þe doukes constable Otoun: To deþ he him smot wiþ his swerd broun. Anoþer he smot wiþ his brond, Þat ded he feld him on þe sond. ¶ Wiþ þat com prike Herhaud, & mett wiþ Gwishard þe Mouhaut. Herhaud him haþ þer afeld, Þat dede he lay in þe feld. ÞemperourRead Þe douk? wiþ þat ginneþ fle: On euerich half driuen ben he. Swiþe hij hem nimeþ & quel[l]eþ, Bi þe pleynes þai gredeþ & ȝelleþ. Wel gret it was þe scomfitour: To þe Lombardes bifel iuel auentour. Bi þat side was Otous fleinde, In his hond his swerd kerueing. Now folweþ him Herhaud alle on So swiþe so þe stede miȝt gon. Als-so þe douk was flowen him fro, Þat no moder bern no seye him þo; Bot Herhaud him folwed stouteliche; His bodi no drad he nouȝt miche. Bihinden him he smewe his wede: Þe lasse of him was his drede. 'Biwende þe,' seyd Herhaud fre, 'Þe douke of Paui, & wer þou þe Of þat ich wicked felonie Þat þou ous dede in Lonbardye.' When þe douke Otous þis y-seye, It wasdouke struck out after was. Herhaud þat after him fleye, Hastiliche he haþ him mett, & at a diche him bisett. He smot him on þe helme briȝt, A quarter of his helme doun riȝt. Þan seyd þe treytour, 'glotoun, Dye þou schalt wiþ resoun: Ich þede under-dotted after Þe; read do? abie in þis stede.' Herhaud anon to him sede: ¶ 'Þou lexst,' he seyd, 'vile losaniour: Þou it abist, bi seyn Sauour.' Herhaud a strok him rauȝt Opon his scheld wiþ gret mauȝt: On þe helme þat strok glod, & fel on þe stede þat he on rode. So he mett him in þat stede, Þat his stede knewele he dede. Vp stirt þe stede þat was snelle: Þan come þerThe r added above the line. bi an hongend hille Þe miȝti and þe hardi Gyoun: In his hond he bar a trounsoun. Otus he smot þer-wiþThe r added above the line. so, Þat he les his stiropes to. Þan seyd Gij to Otus so vnwrast: 'To me ward þou wende on hast, & were þe of þat felonie Þat þou dest me in Lombardye.' Otus him went wiþ gret hete: Þurch þe thei Gij he haþ y-smite. Wiþ gret hete he smot Gyoun, Þat his stede knewled adoun. þan biþought him sir Gij, To awreke him he hadde gret hye. Þe douke he seyleþ þere, & of his helme he carf a quarter. He made him a crouna croun written twice originally. brod þere As a monke þat orderd were. Of þat helme þat swerd glod Wiþ þat strok wiþ-outen abod. Allas þat reuþe & þat sorwe, Þat he no hadde his bodi for-corue! Ac in þat maner ȝete it schal wende, Who so hereþ þis tale to þende. Þer him hadde Gij his heued binome, No hadde gret socour to him come, An hundred kniȝtes & fifti, Þat stalworþ were & hardi: Þe douke þai ben to socour y-come. Mani Gij haþ her heuedes binome.bi altered from y. Wiþ þat þer com a stout Lombard, Of Mohaut he was y-hoten Grimbald. Gij he smot in þat stounde Þurch þe scholder a grete wounde. Gij wold awreke him anon: Opon his helme he hewe gode won. Þan com ten kniȝtes prout, & Gij þai bisett about, & Gij him wered wiþ his brond, Til þat it brac vnto his hond. 'Allas,' quaþ Gij, 'þis vnþang! Were no may y me nouȝt lang.' ¶ Þer come prikeand a prout Lombard, Atte last he held him, a musard.MS. auuisard? Bi þe nasel he tok Gij, & seyd him a gret vilainie: 'Þou wroche glotoun losaniour, Þou schalt þe ȝeld, bi seyn Sauour. Now ichil ȝeld þe to prisoun To mi lordes wille, þe douke Otoun.'MS. of toun. 'Þou lext,' þan Gij sede, 'Þou liþer bodi, so god me rede. Erst þou it schalt abigge, Er þou me in prisoun legge.' Gij him smot so wiþ his fest, Þat his nek-bon to-brest. Wiþ þat come anoþer kniȝt Of Fraunce y-bore, Amori he hiȝt: Douke Otus soudour was he, For his warisoun wiþ him to be. 'Gij,' he seyd, 'now ȝeld þou þe, Al sikerliche, now to me. Þe no tit harm litel no miche.' 'Y nil,' quaþ Gij, 'sikerliche. Ȝete no drede y nouȝt alle ȝou. Sey me, wreche, what seistow?' Wiþ þat come Herhaud prikeinde, & in his hond a swerd wele kerueinde; He it brouȝt to gode Gyoun. Þerwiþ he him werd as a lyoun. Gij was socourd swiþe wel, When he hadde þe brond of stiel. Neuer þer nas non so hardi, Þat enes durst com him bi. Wharto schuld ich held long tale, And michel speke about dualle? Ac sigge ich-il soþeliche Wiþ fewe wordes simpeliche, Gij, & Herhaud, & Tirri þe fre Wiþ her felawes, þat gode be, Han ouercomen þe batayle Atte nende, wiþouten faile: Alle þe Lombard ben ouer-come, Oway y-flowen þer be some. Þe douk Otus oway fleye snelle, Gij him drof wiþ gode wille. Otus him went & smot sir Gij, & Gij opon him, sikerly. Gij fonded to smite wel, Ac þat swerd glod sumdel: Bitvene þe bodi & þe arsoun Gyes swerd glod adoun, Þat þe sadel & þe stede also Al-to-gider he smot atvo. Þat he no hadde, allas, allas, Ȝouen him swiche anoþer so þat was! Ac for vp-coming he no miȝt: So gret socour him com of kniȝt, Þat han y-socourd þe douke sone. Wiþ þat anon riȝt mididone Gij & Tirri wiþ-went ben he, & gon oȝain to þat cite. Wiþ þat come Herhaud prikeinde After þe douke, loude gredeinde. 'Douk,' he seyd, 'wende, & were þe Of þe tresoun þou dest Gij & me, Þat þou ous dede in Lombardye; Were þe now of þat felonie.' Þe douk wiþ-went him fot hot, & wiþ his brond he him smot. Þer þai fouȝten togider snelle, & smiten strokes wiþ gode wille. Þai hewe on armes & brini briȝt: Þe blod sprang out anon riȝt. Bitvene hemAn erasure after hem. was strong fiȝt; Aiþer no spard oþer no-wiȝt. Þan biginneþ Herhaud swiþe: Bot he him wreke he is vnbliþe. Fast he sayleþ þe douk Otoun, A quarter of his helme he smot adoun: Opon his scholder þat swerd glod, & in he it schef an hand brod. Opon his honden he dede him falle, & seþþe he tok him bi þe naselle: Bleþeliche he wold þe heued haue nom, Ac so mani kniȝtes to him come, & on Herhaud þai smiten snelle: Ȝernne þai strengþed him to quelle. Herhaud mett wiþ hem þere: Made he no semblaunt þat he wounded were. Wiþ a Lombard so mett he, Þe heued he dede fram þe bodi fle. As a gode kniȝt he werd him, y-wis, Ac swiþe liþer bifallen him is: Also he wald to þe cite go, His stede dyed vnder him þo. Wiþ swerdes þai smiten him þan about, & on his helme hard him clout. Þai hewe on his helme, þat blod out ran, Ac he werd him as a man. Mani on he made blodi, y pliȝt, Off altered from b. Lombardes in þat fiȝt. A Lombard come forþ wiþ þan, Richard he hete, an onwrastannwrast originally, but o man: To Herhaud he smot a strok grim Þurch þe scholder wiþ a swerd in. Herhaud wold of him be wreke: On hisTwo or three letters erased after his. helme a stroke he gan reke, Ac he failed of him þo: Opon þe arsoun þe strok gan go; Ac hetelich he pliȝt out þat brond, Þat it brak in his hond. 'God, what schal y do?' þan seyd he, 'No lenger may ich weri me. A, swerd, he þat made þe Of godes mouþe acursed he be. Why feylestow so sone me? Iuel biseyn worþ y for þe. Leuer me is her to be ded, Þan hy my bodi wiþ hem led.' Wiþ þat come driuend a Lombard, Attelast he held him, a couward. By þe nasel he rauȝt him þo, & sternliche he seyd him to, 'Feloun, þou schalt it abigge: Today þou schal þine heued her ligge.' Herhaud smot him wiþ his fest þo, Þat his nek-bon brac atvo. 'Ded no worþ y nouȝt for þe: Alle to heteliche þou com to me.' Oȝainward him went sir Gij So is þe gode erl Tirri. Þe Lombardes þai han ouercome, What y-slawea added above the line. & y-nome. After Herhaud he asked þo, Whare he is, & whider y-go. A kniȝt it seyd him anon Out of þe scomfite he was y-gon Strongliche a kniȝt driueing, Þe douk Otus bi his witeing. 'God, merci,' þan Gij seyd, 'Be mi frende ded, icham bitreyd, Herhaud þat so loued me: For no þing may y comfort be. Lordinges,' he seyd, 'ginneþ ȝe to gon, & lede ȝour prisouns wiþ ȝou anon, & Herhaud ich seche wille; Niȝt no day swiken y nille, Liues or deþes þat ich him se: Ȝif ich him lese wo is me. Com wiþ me, felawe Tirri, Hastiliche Herhaud to socouri.' Wiþ scharp spors þai smiten her stede, & sprongen forþ so spark on glede. Swiþe þai priked, for soþe to sigge, Chalaunge on Herhaud to legge. At an ende of þe ost bihalt Gij þo Þe douk of Paui, hou he is y-go, & þat Herhaud was y-nome: Gret sor wassorwas MS. at his hert y-come. 'God,'bi added before god in a later hand. quaþ Gij, 'Herhaud y se Among his fon: nomen is he. Go we smite to hem, Tirri: For dout of deþ spare nil y. So gode a kniȝt leten y nille.' Herhaud þai socourd snelle. To a Lombard smot sir Gij, & feld him & his fere him by. Tirri anoþer smite bigan, Þat ded he feld boþe hors & man. Swerdes þai drowen, wiþ-outen feyle, Wharwiþ was wrouȝt mani batayle. Þai hewe and slouȝ wiþ gret hete: So mani þer þe liif forlete. Herhaud þai socourd mididone, A gode swerd þai toke him sone. Toward his ost þe douke heyeþ bliue, & Gij after him gan driue. A strok him ȝaf sir Gyoun: Bitvene þe bodi & þe arsoun Þe dint of þat strok aliȝt: Þe stede he smot adoun riȝt. Kniȝtes þan out of þat ost To Gij lopen wiþ michel bost: Þurch þat gret ost went Gij snelle Þe Lombardes him folwed wiþ gode wille. Tirri & Herhaud her ost metten þere, & of hem michel awonderd were, Hou hijhij seems altered from he. fram þe ost aschaped is: Of hem þai hadden gret blis. Gij, & Tirri, and Herhaud also Oȝain to þe cite þai ben y-go, & þe citiseins of þat cite Wel often god þonkeden he. Þe douke Otus to his pauiloun he ȝede, & vnarmed him of his wede, & lete loken to his wounde, & went to þe douke Loyer in þat stounde, His gret encumbraunce him telde: Conseyl þer-of he wold helde. ¶ Gij, Herhaud, & Tirri also To þe cite þai ben y-go. Ioie þai make & blisse also: Þe niȝt is comen, þe day is go. ¶ Herkeneþ me, ȝe þat ben in wille, Of a tresoun y schal ȝou telle: Þat was swiþe miche traisoun, & y-wrouȝt þurch þe douke OtounMS. of toun. Tellen ichil of þe douke OtounMS. of toun. Þat cruwel was & feloun. To þe douk Loier he is y-gon, & seyd, 'sir, herken me anon. Bot þou gode conseyl chese Al þi lond þou schalt forlese Þurch treytours þat ben comen herin, Gij, & Tirri & Herhaud wiþ him. Ȝif þou wilt here me speke, Þurch gile þou schalt ben awreke: Oþerliker winnen hem y no may, No noþer rede no can y say. Man schal ben awreken of his fo In what maner he may com to.' ¶ 'Wel lef me were gode conseyl to here,' Þus him answerd þe douk Loyer. 'Sir douke, now y bidde þe, To þerl Aubri sende ȝe, & to his sone Tirri also; Sende to sigge to hem bo Þat þou wilt him þi douhter ȝeue, Wiþ him to acord while þou liue, & þat he com hider to þe: Riȝt siker þer-of may þai be; &, when þai ben farn her iurne, & fer fram her cuntre, Þe treitours þou schalt nimen icho[n], & dem hem in þi court anon. & so michel y bid þe, Gij & Herhaud ȝiue þou me. & so þou schalt awreke be Of þine enmis, as y telle þe, & bot ȝe wil þus don, Þai worþ þi dedliche fon.' Wiþ þat answerd þe douk Loer, 'Lat be, sir Otus, for seyn Richer. Þat felonie y nil hem nouȝt do For nouȝt þat y miȝt afo. Y nil bitray þerl Tirri For loue þat he was mi norri Fram childehed, now he is a man. Now do ȝe þe best þat ȝe can, & he wil amend oȝines me. Bi him yy added above the line. nold no traysoun se, No Herhaud no Gij þe fre No wille ich nouȝt bitreye, y telle þe, For þai ben gode men alle þre: Amende þai may oȝaines me.' Otous answerd wiþ wicked mod & seyd, 'sir, no seystow bot gode. When ȝe þe traitours loue so, Þat ye no wille hem to deþ do, In prisoun þou schalt hem legge, So þat hij it schul dere abigge, Alle fort þai han y-founden þe ostage Þat hij no do þe non vtrage.' So he glosed þe douk in þat stede, & so ȝernne he haþ him bede, Þat he him graunted his talent, & in þat fourme he haþ of-sent. An erchebischop þan sent he, Þe wisestwissest origin|ally, the second s being under|dotted. of alle þat cuntre: Þe message he schewed him þo, & to þe cite he dede him go. Þan he is to Gormoise come, & þer aliȝt, þe gentil gome, Þer fond he þerl Tirri, & his fader, & eke sir Gij. ¶ 'Lordinges,' he seyd, 'herkenþ now: Þe douk me haþ y-sent to ȝou, & greteþ ȝou wele, wil y nouȝt hele.Read hille: wille? Þe douke wiþ ȝou acord he wele,Read hille: wille? & amenden þat he haþ misdo. He bit ȝou þat it be so. Tirri he wille his douhterdouthter origin|ally, the first t being under|dotted. ȝiue, To haue hir while þat he liue. Into þe cite of Lorein he wil ȝe hir lede, & spouse hir þer wiþ gret ferrede, & þer he wille þe bridal held: Þer-at schul ben his barouns beld. Þat þe loue stedefast be Bitvene mi lord & þe Hennes forward he seyd me Schuld þe sposails couþe be: Þan schul ȝe acordi, & togider sauȝten wele an hi.' 'Sir,' seyd þerl Aubri, 'Y-here now me, and gramerci. Þe douke y þanke for þe frendschip, Þat he wil mi sone so miche worþschipe. Bleþeliche we wil to him come At a day y-sett alle and some. Mi sone Tirri, kepe wele þe Þat bitrayed þou no be: Me douteþ þe douke of Paui, Lest he do þe sum felonie.' Þe bischop answerd, 'þer-of þou no drede: Al siker ȝe beþ of þilke dede.' Þe bischop oȝain y-farn he is, Her answere he telleþ hem, y-wis. When þe day come þat was sett, Þerl com forþ wiþouten lett Wiþ to hundred kniȝtes & mo, Þat bliþe were þider to go; Ac þerof þai dede foliliche: Was þer non of hem, sikerliche, Þat ani wepen wiþ hem bere: So siker þai wende to be þere. In riche cloþes þai were schred wele, Þat were gold-broiden eueridel. To þemperourRead Þe douke? þai comen anon, ToTo to be omitted? þerl Tirri & his men ichon. Y-comen þai ben to þe douke Loer, & brouȝt þe maide wiþ leyȝeand cher. Y-comen þai ben to þe parlement, For to here þat iugement. 'Lordinges,' seyd þe douke Otoun,of toun MS. 'Vnder-stond now to mi resoun. Ȝe wite wel þat Tirri, þat is here, Haþ agilt þe douk Loere, Þat him forþ brouȝt, & armes him ȝaf: Iuel ȝolden he it him haþ, Now he bringeþ vncouþe folk miche Opon his lond so dedliche. Ac ichaue þe douke bisouȝt, & mine feren hider brouȝt, Þat forȝif it be him euermo; & gret worþschipe he wil him do: His douhter he wille him ȝiue, & gret worþschip whilei in while above the line. þat he liue. And ichil wiþ Tirri wende: Henneforward we schul be frende. Ȝete vnderstond,' seyd sir Otoun, 'Bifor ȝou alle y biseke sir Gyoun, Ȝif ich him haue ouȝt misdo, Amenden ichil wele þerto: Bi so þat he wille kisse me, Euer eft we schul frendes be.' 'Lat be,' seyd sir Gij þe fre, 'No wille ichaue no cosse wiþ þe: In Lombardye þou bitraydest me, & min men þou dest sle. Ac kisse þou schalt þerl Aubri, & wiþ him þou schalt acordi.' ¶ Þan seyd þe douk Loer: 'Vnderstond now, ȝe þat ben here, Þat þerl sir Tirri, Aubri sone, þat is her bi, He þat maiden Oysel schal spouse In godes lawe vnto his house. Acorded we ben of þat dede, & forȝeuen al hatrede.' Þan haþ þe douke y-kist Tirri For gret traisoun, & nouȝt freli. Gij & Herhaud held hem in pays: Hye no kist Lombard no Tyays, Ac þe Loreins þai kist, & þe douke Loyer attAn erasure be|fore att. first; Ac Otus no kist þai nouȝt: Þai no hadde to him no gode þouȝt. Þan seyd to Loer þerl Aubri: 'Þe ich biteche mi sone Tirri. Alder-first Iesu heuen king & þe y biteche mi ȝongling. No may ich for eld trauaily: Hom ichil wende now an hye.' He bitauȝt hem god & gode day, He lete hem þar, & went his way. Gij and Herhaud þe maiden gan forþ lede, Oysel sche hete wiþ þe rode so rede. Gret iurne þai riden þat day, Fram Gormoise þai riden owai Wele fiften mile oþer mo: For gret hete þai resten hem þo. In a pleyne þai liȝten hem snelle, Þer þai wald resten & duelle. When þai aliȝt þe kniȝtes fre, Alle þai wende y-nomen to be. ¶ Þan seyd Otus of Paui: 'Herkeneþ to me, al mi compeynie, Þe Loreins & þe Lombardes ichon, Alle þat in our side riden & gon: Bi þe rede of þe douke Loer Ichot boþe kniȝt & squier Þat ȝe Gij, Herhaud, & Tirri binde Fast her hondes hem bi-hinde. In-to Loreine we lede hem snelle: Tomorwe we schul hem hongen alle. Who so him feyneþ hem to nime Forþ wiþ hem men schal him blim.' Þan lopen about hem þe Lombars As wicked coltes out of haras & Loyers [men]Or read þe Loreyns? deden also, & þerfore hem was ful wo. Anon Tirri aseylden he, & nomen him (he no miȝt nouȝt fle), & Herhaud, þat was gode of miȝt, Þai nomen þer anon riȝt. Gij vp stirt hastiliche, & to hem spac wel sternliche: 'Now þe deuel hong ȝou ichon. Is þis acord now alle agon? Worþschiped ous haþ þe douk Loer Wiþ alle þe tresoun þat is her. No war we acorded bifor þe barnage, & kist wiþouten vtrage? Þis has made þe douke Otoun,MS. of toun. Þat is so ful of tresoun. Alle þis tresoun he haþ bispeke (God ous of him awreke); For þurch þe no war it nouȝt, Bot it were first of him y-þouȝt.' Þe douk Loer was so wo: O word no miȝt he speke þo. Wiþ þat stirt forþ anon riȝt Otus cossyn, an vnwrast kniȝt. Gij bi his mantel he drouȝ so, Þat þe tassels brosten ato. Þan seyd a Tya[y]s to a Lombard: 'Now is Gij of Warwike a couward. Lo, now he no haþ no miȝt: Lorn he haþ contenaunce, apliȝt.' Wiþ þat þai speken hem þus bitven, Gij seye it miȝt no noþer ben: To him þat him held turned he, And ȝaf him swiche benedicite, Þat he brak his nek ato. Alle þe oþer on him þresten þo. Þe mantel þat he had opon To cloutes it was drawen anon, So þat ichon oway bar An pece of his mantel þar. Gij werd him fast in þat sturbing: Now helpe him Iesu heuen king. Smer[t]liche þai gun him asaily: He werd him as a kniȝt hardy, So þat he neyȝed his stede; For to him he hadde nede. Wiþouten stirop he lepe þer-on: Mani on he made þat liif forgon. When þe douk Otus þat y-seye Þat Gij on his hors oway fleye, Anon heAnother he struck out. seyd to his kniȝtes: 'Now to hors wiþ alle ȝour miȝtes; For, ȝif he passe ous in þis biker, Of mi liif am y nouȝt siker; & þerfore nimeþ him anon Als ȝe wil haue mi loue ichon. Bot ȝe bring him me to, We ben y-schent for euer mo.' An hors þai lopen þan on hast, And driuen Gij swiþe fast, & Gij no hadde wepen non: Wold god of heuen, þat made man, Þat he hadde his brond kerueing! He no hadde þer no frende him helping. Bi þat o side oway he ginneþ fle; Bot god of him haue pite, Þer he worþ y-slawe anon: Alle abouten him þai ben y-gon. Wiþ þat þer come rideing a kniȝt, About his swere his scheld briȝt, & wiþ a spere opon his hond: Toward Gij wel swiþe he wond, & þurch þe bodi smite him wold, Ac god of heuen it suffre nold: Þe strok of þe spere it gan glide Bitven þe arsoun & his side. His blihaut he carf, his schert also. Gij strongliche him mett þo: Wiþ his fest he him smot so, Þat to grounde hehe added above the line. dede him go. Wiþ þat sir Gij forþ him diȝt, Ac he mett wiþ anoþer kniȝt: Swerd he bar þat wele wald bite, In þe heued he wald Gij smite. Þe strok opon his hors glod Opon þe croupe a fot brod. Þei he war aferd no wonder nas: Gij ferd fram him aan originally, the n being under|dotted. fast pas. He seye wiþ þat a grom cominde, To him ward fast erninge:erneinge origin|ally, the second e being under|dotted. A gret soule in his hond he bar, So wold god þat it war. Gij wel feir him bisouȝt Ȝif him þe staf þat he brouȝt. 'Ichil ȝeld it þe ful wel.' 'Haue here, sir, bi seyn Miȝhel. Wele ich þi gret nede se: Now god fram schame kepe þe.' He tok þat soule in his hond, Anon forþ to hem he wond. A Lombard wel sone he mett, And wiþ þe souleMS. swerd. so him grett, Þat ded he feld him anon. He tok his hors, & gan to gon, & seyd to þe grom þo: 'Þou nim þis hors, & gin to go. Wiþ gode wille y ȝiue it þe For þe staf þou lentest me.' Þe knaue him þonked bliue, Oway wiþ þe hors he gan to driue. Þan went forþ Gij þe gode, Nas neuer man of his mode Þat better him werd in his ende. Er he out of þat fiȝt gan wende Ȝete he slouȝ on of her felawe. In lasse while he hadde [him] y-slawe, Þen men schold sigge a pater-noster. Y telle it ȝou bi Peter þe apostel Þat neuer swiche nasnas on an erasure. y-seye non. When he haþ ouer-comen ichon Wel long he werþ him þat day. When he no lenge doure ne may Þan seyd he to hem anon: 'Þe deuel biteche ich ȝou ichon, & namliche Otus of Pauie, Þat haþ y-don ous þis felonie; & ȝif ich a ȝer libbe may He schal itMS. ich abigge, for soþe to say.' Þan isis added above the line. he gonMS. goand oway ful ȝernne, So þat he com to a water sterne. In he him dede, & ouer he goþ. Alle þai wondred þer-of, for soþ. Non no durst after him wende For drencheing at her liues ende. Oȝain þan þai ben y-come To þe douke Otus alle and some, & telden him wel sone anon Þat Gij was ouer þe water y-gon.Lines 5847-8 written twice originally, but struck out the second time. Þe douke Otous is now wel sori, For Gij is schaped so oway, & swore bi god & seyn Gelen Neuer eft nold he louenlooks more like louen than leuen. his men, For þat hii leten him oway fle: Gret wille he hadde him to sle; Ac Gij him werd wiþ mani wrenche: HopeBothe, Turnbull, but the first letter, although not quite distinct, is cer|tainly not b, and the third, without any doubt, is p, not þ. of fole may of-blenche. 'Sir douk Loer,' seyd Otoun, 'Y-schaped is þe felle Gyoun. To Paui ichil nown and part of o struck out after now. gon, & spouse þi douhter anon: Riche bridal ichil maki. Wiþ me schal Herhaud & Tirri; Þer þai schul be don in prisoun: Schul þai neuer come to raunsoun. Dye þai schul wiþ miche wo. & ȝete to ȝer ichil now go Wiþ min men to sechen Gij, What he be nome, sikerly. Alle þis oþer prisouns wiþ þe go, & þine wil wiþ hem þou do.' 'Sir,' seyd þe douk Loer, 'Þat nil ich nouȝt in non maner Þat tow Tirri no do sle: Y nold in non wise, sir douk þe fre; Ac, ȝif Tirri schal wiþ þe go, In fre prisoun þou schalt him do. Þou do him kepe worþschipliche Wiþ gret plente manschipliche, Alle fort he haue mi wille y-do. Ichil now þat it be so, & ich-il lede Herhaud wiþ me: In mi fre prisoun schal he be. Y nil nouȝt he wiþ þe go: To michel iuel þou wost him do.' Þan þai token her leue þo: Wiþ gret loue þai kisten hem bo. To Lorein went þe douke Loer, Þat wiþ worþschipe dede kepe þer Herhaud of Arderne, þe marchis: Wele leuer him were be ded, y-wis. When he to Gij com no miȝt, Leue him were dye anon riȝt. Now is Otous to Paui gan, Wiþ him he ledde his feir leman, Also he dede þerl sir Tirri Fast y-fetred, sikerly, Riȝt fast vnder þe hors fet In-to Paui, and þer him let. When Oysel seye him lede so Sore sche wepe for his wo. 'Allas,' sche seyd, '& wale-wo: Sone is my ioie went me fro.' Of þe hors sche fel aswon anon: For sorwe almost hir hert to-chon. When þe douk hir falle seye Bi his oþ he swore an heye, 'Iuel þou dost, mi gode leman, When þou for swiche a man Swiche sorwe schaltow make. & ȝif þou moreAnother more struck out. sorwe for his sake, Oþer euer eft make swiche sorweing, & ich it perceiue bi ani þing, To-hewe he worþ bifor þe, Or heye hong on galwe tre. Glad & bliþe, leman, þou be: Wiþ ioie to Paui y lede þe, Þer ichil nim þe to wiue, And wiþ þe helden alle mi liue. Tirri ichil in prisoun do: He no schal haue sorwe no wo. Ichim hate wel sore, sikerly, For þe loue of Herhaud and Gij. Richeliche he schal serued be: Þer-of nouȝt no dred þou þe.' ¶ 'Sir, gramerci of þi speche, Ac of o þing y þe biseche: Fourti days respite þou ȝif me, Til þat mi sorwe aslaked be, & seþþen spouse me wiþ worþschipe.' 'Y graunt wele,' quaþ þe douke, 'sikerlike.' To Paui þai ben þan ago, Ac alle anoþer þouȝt þat maiden þo; Anoþer sche souȝtRead þouȝt? þan sche seyd: Gret sorwe in hir hert sche leyd. Ar sche wille to him spoused be, Wiþ a kniif sche wil hir sle. Ac o þing hir glad, sikerliche: Opon Gij sche trust miche. Seþþe þat he aschaped was, Wele sche þouȝt þurch sum cas He schuld Tirri out of prisoun cast, Hir swete leman, wel on hast. Þai com to Paui wiþ þat: Þe douk Otus nouȝt forȝat, Þat erl Tirri he bond fast, & in-to þester prisoun him cast, Þer he was in sorwe, apliȝt: He nist wheþer it wer day or niȝt. Litel he hadde of mete or dring. His leman lan neuer wepeing Aniȝt, when sche alon was, Þat noman wiþ hir nas. Now to tel of Gij ichaue y-þouȝt Hou god him haþ fram deþ y-brouȝt. When he was passed þat water sternne He loked about him wel ȝernne, Of his felawes him vnderstode: Welwelle originally, but le underdot|ted. neye he was for sorwe wode. 'God,' he seyd, 'what schal y do? Weri wreche, whider may y go? Ichaue forlorn þe gode Tirri & Herhaud, for wham icham sori. Amow,Read Ai now? sir douk Loer, Hou miȝtestow dreye þe bismer, Þat þe fals douk OtounMS. of toun. Dede bifor þe þat traisoun? For traitour þou worst euer i-held When þou comest in place or feld. Lord,' he seyd, 'what may y do? Into whiche lond may y go? An arnemorwe no þing y no dred me: Þo ich went out of þat cite Wiþ me ich hadde an hundred kniȝtes To mi wille for me in fiȝtes, & now y no haue a grom to held mi stede. Þat so miche me miȝt helpLooks like helper. at nede, For me þai ben y-slawe ichon, Oþer in peine in prisoun don. A, mi dere frende sir Tirri, For our departing icham sori. No schal y þe se neuer eft mo? For þe ichil mi liif in periil do, Þat yy ne schal MS. schal his body smite ato Þat þus þis traisoun haþ ous do, & so ichil awreke þe: Dye ichil bot it so be.' Gij rode forþ in his way Alle þat iche self day, So long þat he a castel seye Opon a roche stode an heye. He þouȝt to herberwe þare; For he no miȝt no ferþer fare. Also he to þe gates come A ȝong kniȝt he fond þer anon. Michel he was, hende, & fre: Feren he hadde wiþ him þre. Gij sey bi his semblaunt anon Þat he was lord ouer hem ichon. 'Sir,' quaþ Gij, 'vnderstond to me. Þe lord, þat made me and te, Þe loke ȝif þi wille be, And miche blisse he ȝif þe. A kniȝt icham deswarre, Þat in y bid par charite.' ¶ Þe lord answerd sweteliche, 'Þou it schalt haue, bleþeliche.' He dede vnder-fong his stede þo, Bi his ownon MS. he dede it do. Bi þe riȝt hond he toke sir Gij, & went into his halle on hey. A mantel of silk he of-sent on hast, & about him he dede it cast. Wonderliche þai bihelden him alle Kniȝtes þat weren in þe halle; For he was michel & wele y-sett. Þai him bihelden wele þe bett. Þe lord wiþ þat to him sede, 'Ich þe bidde for loue-rede Þat þi name telle þou me, & nouȝt forhole it no be.' Gij answerd wel sweteliche, 'Mi name y þe telle, sikerliche: Gij of Warwike mi name is. Iuel ich am acumbred, y-wis.' When þe lord herd þat, Þat it was Gij þat to him spac, 'Sir,' he seyd, 'welcome ȝe be: In ȝour owhen herberwe ȝe. Ful welcome artow to me, & ful wele y knowe þe. Ich auȝt þe loue, so moti gon: Wel michel gode þou hast me don. Þo ich þe serued þou louedest me: Armes ich vnderfenge of þe, And þou me sendest ner & fer To turnamens & to wer, So þat gret word sprong of me, Þo y went hom to mi cuntre. Amis of Mounteyn mi name it is: Wele ouȝt ȝe me knowe, y-wis.' When Gij him seye he knewe þe kniȝt, He kist him þer anon riȝt. 'Sir,' quaþ Amis, 'when comestow, Þatow gost alle on now? It semeþ wele, so þenkeþ me, Fram gret periil aschaped be ȝe. Whare his Herhaud, þi kniȝt so fre? Alle þine kniȝtes where ben he?' 'Ich-il þe telle,' þan seyd sir Gij. 'Now vnder-stond ich am sori.' Þan teld he him al þat cas, Hou þerl Tirri wounded was, & hou he hadde y-heled his wounde, & socurd his fader, & ost him founde, & hou he passed him self vnnome, & hou þai were þurch traisoun ouer-come, & hou his felawes weren y-nome, & hou þat he was þider y-come, & hou Tirri was y-nomen þo & þe gode Herhaud also, & wiþ hem fif hundred kniȝtes, Orped men & gode in fiȝtes. 'Y not ȝif þai be liues or dede: Al ich hem sey nimen & lede.' When Gij hadde y-teld þat cas, Hou iuel him bifallen was, 'Suffre awhile, sir,' quaþ he. 'Ȝif it is þi wille listen to me. Ich haue castels & cites strong Mani and fele in mi lond: Alle ichil bitake þe, Mine kniȝtes ichilAn s erased after the ch. of-sende to me: Fif hundred ich of-sende may, Þat schal do þi wille niȝt and day. Alle þat to min erldom falleþ y wil it be To þine wille so schal com to þe. Wende we wille to þe douk Otoun,MS. of toun. And bring him to destruccioun. His londes we schul þurch-ernne, & his castels felle, & his tounes bernne, & so þou miȝt awreke be, His londes destru, him seluen sle. Of werre no swike wille we, Al what he a-slawe be.' 'Amis,' quaþ Gij, 'god ȝeld it te: To long schuld ich here be. Ȝif ich orn on him so þou speke, To late ich worþ of him awreke. For drede of deþ nille y fle. Hastiliche ichil awreken be.' Al a day he bileft þare, His hert was in michel care: Amis emforþ his miȝt Confort him boþe day and niȝt.' ¶ Of him he toke his leue þo, Toward Paui he is y-go. Amis wiþ him gon wold, Ac he seyd þat he no schold. Amis bileft, þat was sori, & often to god he bad for Gij, Þat for his swete moder loue Leue him harmeles oȝain come. ¶ Gij him diȝt in a-queyntise, & com to Paui in squier wise. An vnement purchast he Þat made his visage out of ble: His here, þat was ȝalu and briȝt, Blac it bicome anon riȝt. Nas no man in þis world so wise of siȝt Þat afterward him knowe miȝt. Now to Paui y-comen he is: Of no man aferd he nis. Þe douk Otus he fond þere, & gret him as ȝe may here: 'Sir douk Otus,' he seyd, 'god loke þe: Al so ich it wold so mot it be. A man icham o fer cuntre: Hider ich come to seche þe. Ich haue þe brouȝt here a stede, In þis world is better non at nede. Noris it dede a Sarazin, And me it ȝaf, min owen cosyn: In alle þe world is so swift a best, Libard no ro, in no forest, No dromedarie no is þer non So swiþe goand so is he on. No þarf þe drede non arme of þe se, And tow opon þis stede be. Ȝif ȝe nille þerof me leue Ichil þat ȝe it aseyaseyle origin|ally, le being erased. ar eue. Ac on maner haþ þat hors, Þerfore mani haþ fare þe wors: In þe world nisMS. is. man þat ney him come Þat he no wold him slon wel sone, Bot þe man þat lokedThe first letter seems to be l, although it looks a little like b. it. Þer-fore y loue it out of witt.' Quaþ þe douk, 'mow gramerci. Þis is a fair ȝift, sikerly. Wiþ þat hors ichil at-hold þe, & make þe riche of gold & fe. To swiche an hors ich hadde nede, Þat ich might þe better spede. Of min fomen ich wold ben awreke, & som in min prisoun ben y-steke, Ac on of hem is schaped fro me. Now wold god, þat alle may se, Þat he were now in þis halle: Wel iuel him schuld sone bifalle. Wel sone he schuld an-honged be Wiþ gode riȝt, y telle it te.' 'Sir,' quaþ Gij, 'who [may] þat be? In gret periil now is he.' 'Ichil þe telle,' quaþ þe douk þo: 'Gij of Warwike, þat is mi fo. Siker no be ich neuer mo Þe whiles þat he oliues go. Ich wold now he stode þe bi.' 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'y knowe wele Gij: He slouȝ on of mi neye kin; Þer-fore ich am riȝt wroþ wiþ him, & wiþ þerl Tirri also: He is mi dedliche fo. Þurch felonie mi fader he slouȝ, Mi broþer he deseriteddesirit MS. wiþ wouȝ. God lete me neuer ded be Er ich him to mi wille se.' 'Mi dere frende,' seyd þe douk Otoun,of toun MS. 'Ichaue Tirri in mi prisoun. Now ich-il þou loke him to, And alle schame þou him do.' 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'gramerci, And y þe sigge sikerly Þat alle his liif ichil wende Er þan come seuen niȝtes ende.' Þe douke doþ him þe keyes take, Maister iaioler he doþ him make. Þe douk oxeþ what his name be: 'Yon men clepet me in mi cuntre.' 'Yon,' he seyd, 'ichot now þe Þat þou þat hors wele kepe me.' An hous he deliuer[d] him þo Þat no þing com in bot þai to. Þe douk þat nouȝt no wist, Þat Gij was þer-in, bi Crist. Alle his wille he may now do, Non vn-worþschip men seyd him to. Gij into a tour is y-go, A strong prisoun fond he þo: Fourti fadom depe it was. He hadde y-herd cri, 'allas': He oxed anon who þat were Þat made þer so reuly bere. 'Ich,' he seyd, 'a wreched man: Me reuweþ sore þat y liues am. Erl Tirri mi nam is: Now icham a wreche, y-wis. Þe douk no misdede y neuer nouȝt, And in þis prisoun icham y-brouȝt. More iren about me is Þan a somer miȝt beren, y-wis, On armes, on legges, on bodi also. Mi deþ ich wold were com me to. For þan þat ich felawe was To a kniȝt þat neuer his better nas, Whom þe douk Otus hated, y-wis, On me þe wreche fallen now is. Þat ich ete þis is þe þridde day: Long liue y no may.' ¶ 'Tirri,' quaþ Gij, 'no be nouȝt wo: Icham Gij þou louedest so. Out of prisoun y schal cast þe So sone y may mi time se.' Sir Tirri spac to Gij þo, 'For godes loue, hennes þou go. Hou come þou hider, sir Gij? Þine hider-com wil me harmi. Ȝif þe douk wite þat þou it be Þis ich day he wil sle þe. Leuer me were al-on to day Þan wite þe ded, soþe to say. Þerfore, sir, hennes þou go; For godes loue, sir, do now so.' Als þai togider speken þis A Lombard it of-herd, y-wis, Þat after into þe tour was y-go To aspie what Gij wold do. Wiþ loude steuen he haþ him gred, 'Gij, þou hast wel iuel y-sped. Boþe ȝe schul an-honged be, Now ich ȝouþou MS. boþe here y-se.' ¶ 'Lete be,' quaþ Gij, 'so god þe amende: So þou miȝt ous boþe schende. What schuld þe þe better be Ȝif þou dest ous boþe sle? Þine owhen man ichil be, & as mi lord seruy þe, & þerl Tirri bi his miȝt, And þerto mi treuþe y þe pliȝt.' 'Hold þi pes,' quaþ þe Lombart, 'Haue neuer god of me part Bot ich þe douk Otus it telle: For noþing leten y nille.' Adoun of þe tour he goþ erninde, And Gij after him fast folweinde. Riȝt bifor þe doukes fet Gij arauȝt him wiþ a staf gret: Swiche a strok he him ȝaf, Þat his breyn fley about þe staf. Seyd þe douk, 'whi destow þis? Wiþ hors tow worþ to-drawen, y-wis. Whi hastow mi man y-slawe? Hou dorstow bigin þat plawe?' 'Sir,' quaþ Gij, 'herken to me, Anon ichil telle to þe: Into þe tour ich was y-gon, For to se þe esters ichon; Þer ich fond þis feloun, & spac to Tirri in þe prisoun, & mete him brouȝt gret plente. Þo ich it seye it of-þouȝt me. Wiþ his fest he me smot, Þerfore ichim suwed, god it wot, & smot him so þou miȝt se. Þe gilt, sir, for-ȝiue þou me. Soþe to sigge in þis stede, For þine anour ich it dede, Þat oþer bi him y-warned be To fede þi prisoun wiþ-outen þe.' Þe douk gret oþ swore þo, Þat ȝif he oþer-loker had do He worþ to-drawe, oþer an-hong, Or oþer schames deþ to afong; 'Ac now forȝiuen it þe be.' Gij him þonked on his kne. Sone so þe niȝt him come, Gij into þe cite nome: Mete anouȝ he bouȝt þere, And to Tirri he gan it bere. Þus he dede y not hou long, Michel he slaked his pine strong, Alle his bendes doþ oway, And slakeþ his pine so michel so he may. Into a chaumberThe u in chaumber has a stroke too many. he goþ on a day, Þerin he fond þat fair may, Þat biment hir strongliche For hir leman sche loued so miche. Gij seyd to hir, 'maiden fre, Wele þou owest to knowe me: Gij of Warwike mi name is, Icham þi lemanes felawe, y-wis. In þis maner y-comen icham, For y nold be knowen of no man, And for to deliuer þi leman Þat ich michel gode an.' When þe maiden herd þis, Þat it was Gij, for soþe y-wis, For blisse sche fel aswon adoun, And vp hir toke þe gode Gyoun. 'Maiden,' he seyd, 'lete now be: Wiltow now schende me? Ȝif ani me perceiue miȝt Ich were y-honged anon riȝt.' 'Merci, sir Gij,' seyd þat may, 'Now wiþin þe þridde day To him spoused schal y be; Ac o þing ich haue biþouȝt me, Þat ichil mi-selue sle Þat day þat y schal spoused be.' Gij seyd, 'no do nouȝt so, Ac alle his wille þou schalt do, And ar he to þe chirche come Y schal mete him atte frome: His heued fro þe bodi schal fle, & lede y schal þe forþ wiþ me.' Now is Gij þennes y-gon hom, And also swiþe so niȝtThe n in niȝt on a c only partially erased. come To þe prisoun anon he ȝede, And deliuerd his felawe in þat stede. 'Sir Tirri,' he seyd, 'forþ þou go (Niȝt no day no swike þou no) Riȝt to Amis ofto MS. þe Mounteyne, Þat woneþ in þe marche of Almeyne. On mine half grete him wele bi me. Þider þou go, & ful wele rest þe, Fortt added above the line. ich com, or man for me.' 'Bleþeliche, sir,' þan seyd he. Hye kisten hem, and forþ ȝede þo; At her parting hem was ful wo. Aiþer for oþer for gret pite In gret periil hadde y-be. Gi lete him of þe tour þo, Bitauȝt him god, & lete him go. Gij bileft, & Tirri is forþ y-fare: Of alle niȝt no hadde he rest þare. So long is Tirri forþ y-gon, To þe Mounteyn he com anon; A castel þer was fair wiþalle, And strong cite biloken wiþ walle; Fair halles & toures also In þe cite were mani & mo. In þat on half orn þe riuer, In þat oþer half forest wiþ wilde dere. Into þe cite he is y-go, And to þe maister palays he ȝede þo. He fond Amis atte ches pleyinge Wiþ his felawes, fair gamen giuing. Þritti kniȝtes were in halle also His soudours were, his wil to do, Þat wiþ Amis bileften he For wer þat was in þat cuntre. 'Sir,' quaþ Tirri, 'ȝif it be þi wille, Vnder-stond & speke me tille Al priueliche, y þe biseche, Þat þi folk no here our speche.' Amis answerd, 'wel bleþeliche Wille ich it do & loueliche.' Fram þe cheker he is y-go, And to a windowe he cleped him þo. 'Sir Amis,' seyd Tirri, 'Often þe greteþ wele sir Gij; & hider to ȝou he sent me, For to soiourne here wiþ þe, Fort he may hider come, Oþer anoþer send for him atte frome.' 'Sir,' quaþ Amis, 'miche þanke haue he, Þat he þe sent hider to me. What is þi name? say þou me.' 'Ichil þe telle, sir,' quaþ he: 'Tirri of Gormoise mi name is, Aschaped of strong prisoun, y-wis.' 'Sir Tirri,' þan seyd he, 'Welcome in-to þis cuntre!' He kist him an hundred siþe, Wiþ eyȝen he wepe, so was he bliþe. & for he him so miseiseso miseise looks like sounseise in MS. y-seye Of prisoun aschaped, bliþe was hye. He dede him baþe, sikerly, And al þing diȝt him redi. Wiþ riche cloþesc added above the line. he dede him schrede, & fond him alle þat him was nede. He ȝaf him armes and riche stede, & diȝt him þer alle wiþ prede. Þennes no went he for no þing, Er he of Gij hadde tiding. Of þe douk ichil ȝou telle, & þan of Gij, ȝif ȝe wille. Þe douk of-sent his barnage in hast, Þat þai com to him riȝt fast Into þe cite of Pauie, Alle þe Lombardes of Lombardie. When þe time it comen was, Þe douk was bliþe & glad in þat cas. To þe maiden he come swiþe, As he þat was glad & bliþe, And seyd, 'leman, glad make þe; Today þou schalt y-spoused be.' 'Sir,' sche seyd, 'wiþ gode wille Alle þine hest ichil fulfille.' He schred hir swiþe wele, y-wis Wiþ riche cloþes alle of pris; He sette hir on a palfrey, þat ȝongling, Better no bistrode neuer no king. Riche anouȝ þat atire was Of gold & siluer: no noþer þer nas. Toward a chirche went hye; Wiþ ioie he wend hir to spousi. ¶ Gij armed him wel richeliche Alto his wille stalworþliche Wiþ armes þe maiden him had bitouȝt, Þat were þe douke to present brouȝt. His gode stede he bi-strod, And of-tok hem wiþ-outen abod. . . . . . . . . . . 'Douk Otus, vnder-stond to me: No go no forþer, ich hot þe. Vnder-stond þe of þat traisoun Þat þou dest to sir Gyoun, Also he com fram Boneuent: Ȝete is mi hert þer-fore in turment; & seþþen þou dest me a gret traisoun, Þo þou Tirri dest in þi prisoun. . . . . . . . . . . Icham Gij þat to þe speke: Ȝete today y þenk to ben awreke.' Þurch þe bodi he smot him anon Bifor þe Lombardes euerichon, And swore bi god, heuen king, ȜifThe f on an erasure. him neyed ani þing, Þat heued he schuld þer forgon. To þat maiden he cam anon, Bitven his armes þe maiden he nam, & sett hir biforn him: oway he ran. Swiþe owaiward þan rod he: Þe noise aros in þat cite. Wiþ gret strengþe þai driuen Gi: He paseþ hem: oȝain went hij. Oȝain þai went to þat bodi riȝt, Ac a child-ȝong man, apliȝt, Þat was þe doukes kinseman (Berard was his riȝt nam), Alle on he folwed sir Gij (He no hadde felawe no frend him bi) Wiþ scheld & spere opon his stede: A gode kniȝt he was at nede. He folwed Gij fif mile, Þat Gij fore in a litel while. 'Gij,' he seyd, 'turn oȝe, So help þe Crist, & iuste wiþ me.' Gij turned him wel an hast, For he no was nouȝt of him agast. Þe maiden he to grounde sett, & diȝt his armes wiþ-outen lett, & went to him wiþ gret miȝt, & he to him anon riȝt. ¶ Þe ȝong man smot first Gij Þurch þe scheld, sikerli: He carf þe brini þat newe was, Nouȝt worþ a botoun it nas. Gij of þat strok wonder haþ. Anoþer strokAnoþer strok on an erasure. sir Gij him ȝaf: Gij anon smot þat ȝong man, Þurch his scheld anon it ran, & þurch þe scholder he ȝaf him wounde, Þat hors & man it fel to grounde. & when þe ȝongman was y-falle Vp he stert sone wiþ-alle. Anon his swerd he haþ out drawe, His hors he wold habbe y-slawe. 'Hors,' he seyd, 'acursed þou be, When þou no miȝt vp-hold me. Þat þou dye it is riȝt, Seþþen þou in þe has no miȝt. Gij,' quaþ Berard,berarnd MS. 'wende to me, & of þine hauberk vnarmi þe: In pleyn armes wil we fiȝt, And so we may asay our miȝt. Bot ich þine heued binim þe, Or ich out of þis place te, Neuer honour ich no bidde, No neuer a day lenger to libbe.' 'Frende,' quaþ Gij, 'nil y nouȝt so. To bataile we schul ȝete cum bo.' Þe maiden he nam & forþ ladde, & passed a riuer, & nouȝ[t] no drad. Þe ȝongman went him oȝe Alle sori in-to þat cite. Þe douk þai birid worþschipliche In a chirche of Paui, sikerliche. Þe ȝongman to þemperour is gon, & told him of Otus deþ anon. Þemperour alle his lond him ȝeld, & wiþ þatSo MS., not gret. knighted him, worþschip him at-held. Armes he ȝaf him hastiliche, He loued him wel swiþe miche. Of Almaine he made him steward, Þat fel mani a man swiþe hard. Gij wiþ þat maiden is forþ y-go, & þan newed alle hir wo. 'Sir Gij,' sche seyd, 'what schal y do? Mi leman no se ysey MS. as one word. neuer mo. Dye y schal wiþ sorwe & care. Now wold god ich wer þare: Wiþ him ded ich wold be; & it so were wele wer me.' Gij answerd wele þat maide,The i added above the line. And to hir sweteliche he seyd: 'Tirri nis bot gode, siker þou be: Alle in gode point þou schalt him se. Wiþ þe iaioler ich haue speke so, Þat alle his wille he wil do.' So long forþ wenten he, Þat hij come to þat cite OfOf þat MS. Mounteyne, þat feir was: So þai went [in] wiþ ioie & solas. When he into þe halle come, Amis him knew riȝt anon. When he him seye þan seyd he, 'Sir Gij, welcom mot þou be.' When sir Tirri Gij y-seþ & Oisel, þat him was so lef, Michel ioie he made Gij þo, Þat maiden he nam in his armes to. 'Gij,' he seyd, 'welcome þou be. Þat þus asembled now be we! Nold god & our leuedi Þat mi lef be schent of hir bodi.' Þai kisten hem togider anon, For ioie þai wepen euerichon. When Oisel y-seþ sir Tirri, Þat was hir lef & hir ami, For ioie sche swoned omong hem. Þer wende sche nouȝt to finden him. Tirri nam hir in his armes tvo, & sweteliche seyd to hir þo, 'Mi swete leman, no drede þe nouȝt: Hole & sounde icham hider brouȝt.' Amonges hem was ioie & blis, And soiournd þere,to her wille MS. y-wis, To her wille in þat palais: Sir Amis was hende & curteys. So on a day biþouȝt him sir Gij Þat long soiournd hadden hy. Amis he cleped to him & sir Tirri: 'Herkeniþ to me,' seyd sir Gij. 'Soiournd we haue here anow: Now is time we go fram ȝou To Gormoise to þerl Aubri: Wele y wot he is for ous sori. Of-sende ichil baroun & kniȝtes, & ern ichil opon þe douk wiþ gret miȝtes, & mine felawes out of prisoun bring:bring Turnbull, binde MS. Ich no may hem forȝete for no þing. Ich man schal his miȝt don, For to awreke him of his fon.' 'Sir,' quaþ Amis, 'ichil go wiþ þe, And a þousend kniȝtes forþ wiþ me, A þousend seriauns also Wele on hors, wiþ-outen mo.' 'Gramerci, sir,' þan seyd Gij, 'On þe al mi trust is, sikerli.' Amis of-sent his kniȝtes anon, And haþ asembled hem euerichon, His seriauns he dede also, Þe best þat miȝt to fiȝt go. When þat þai wer al redi forþ þai wenten hastily. To-ward Gormoise hij goþ, Mani man þai made wel wroþ: Þai nimen castels & cites, & destruen alle þe cuntres. To Gormoise þai ben y-come: Glad þai ben alle & some, Ouer alle oþer þerl Aubri. When he seþ his sone Tirri He fel aswon for ioie þo: He wende he had ben forlorn for euer mo. Þer was ioie & micheThe m in miche not quite distinct. blis Bitven þe fader & þe sone, y-wis. Euerich told oþer, & forȝat nouȝt, Hou Gij hem haþ fram deþ y-brouȝt. ¶ Gij nouȝt for-ȝete nold, Asembled he haþ his kniȝtes bold. Þe douk he haþ a grete harm y-do, He þouȝt for to awreke him so. When þe douk Loer herd þis tiding, Þat Gij and Tirri were coming, His douhte[r] Oysel also, Wel glad & bliþe he was þo. Herhaud he cleped him to, & teld him þe soþe þo, Þat Gij and Tirri wer y-come, & hadde on hem wer y-nome, Wiþ hem was þerl Amis Wiþ ferred of miche pris. When Herhaud y-herd þis, Þat Gij and Tirri comen is, Neuer nas he so bliþe: God he þonked mani siþe. 'Sir Herhaud,' seyd þe douk Loer, 'Ichil þe make messanger: To þerl Aubri þou schal go, & Gij, & Tirri, & sigge hem so, Þat ich wiþ hem acord wille Of alle þat þai cun to me telle. Sir Tirri ichil mi douhter ȝiue, & half mi lond while þat y liue. Ichil þat þou wittnesse me Þat þe loue ste[de]fast be.' 'Sir,' quaþ Herhaud, 'ichil so Alle mi miȝt do þer-to.' Þe douke of-sent his prisouns alle, & dede hem arme swiþeOne or two letters erased after swiþe. snelle, & hete hem þat þai failed nouȝt Of þat þai hadde þider y-brouȝt. 'Forþ wiþ Herhaud ȝe schal gon, Þe acord to make riȝt anon.' Herhaud made him redi þo, Riȝt into Gormoise he is y-go, & wiþ him went alle þe kniȝtes, Acord to make anon riȝtes. Gij cam on a day fram hunting, Þerl Amis, & Tirri þe ȝing, & mo þan an hundred kniȝt, Wiþ swerd bigirt, y ȝou pliȝt. Toward Gormoise þai ben y-go, Bisiden hem þai loked þo; So mani kniȝtes þai seye coming, Of traisoun þai were dredeing. Þan seyd [of] þe Mountayn Amis, 'A gret ferd y se, y-wis. Y not what folk it be: Hiderward þai com, so þenkeþ me.' Opon his gode stede he wond Wiþ swerd & spere in his hond. Þiderward he is y-go, To hem he com wel sone þo. Þo he gan hem com neye Herhaud of ArdernThe d altered from t. þer he seye He oxed him whennes he come. 'Where is Gij?' he seyd anon. 'Sir,' quaþ he, 'ichil þe telle, & lade þe to him wiþ gode wille. Fram dere hunting y-comen he is: Biside þanne hulle ichim lete, y-wis.' Quaþ Herhaud, 'felawes, wil we go.' Wiþ sporres hij smiten her stedes þo: Swiþe þai riden wiþ gret hy. When þai seye Gij & sir Tirri, 'God,' quaþ Gij, 'Herhaud y se & alle min feren, so þenkeþ me: Þai ben out of prisoun y-gon Oþer quite-cleymed ichon.' To kissen Herhaud þai hem do,The d altered from t. Wel gret ioie þai maden þo. 'Sir Tirri,' quaþ Herhaud þe fre, 'Gode conseyl y telle to þe. Þe sent to grete þe douk Loer, Whom ich loue wiþ hert cler: Worþschiped he haþ me miche, And ouer alle oþer loued, sikerliche. Wiþ þe he wil acorded be, And swiþe miche he loueþ þe. Þou schalt his douhter spousi: Wiþ half his lond he wille þe feffi; And wiþ þi fader he wil acordy, And allso wiþ þe, sir Gij: In alle maner to þi wille He wille amende, for soþe y telle. Ichil þer-of his borwe be, Þat he do wil as y sigge to þe.' Alle þai bisouȝten sir Gij, And so þai dede þerl Tirri, Þat þai schuld wiþ him acordy, For he was michel to praisy. So long þai bisouȝt himRead hem? so, And wiþ hem Amis, þat þer was þo. Þer of acord speken he, Þat it schuld treuwe be. To þe cite þai ben y-gon, & teld þerl Aubri anon Hou þat Herhaud was y-come, And hadde þe acord vnder-nome, Þerl graunted raþe & snelle Þe acord to Herhaudes wille. No soiournd þai nouȝt long þo, Bot riȝt to Loreyn þai ben y-go: Þerl Aubri & Tirri his sone, Gij & Herhaud benben a little indistinct. þider y-come, & of oþer kniȝtes mani also, Þat bliþe were þider to go. Þerl Aubri, & Tirri his sone, Gij, Herhaud, & Amis þider come. Mani was þe gentil kniȝt Þat wiþ hem went þo riȝt. To Loreyne þai ben comen, y-wis: Þe douke hem vnderfengvnderfende MS. wiþ blis. Wiþ him þai were acorded alle, & þe misdede forȝeuen snelle. Gret joie þai maden in þe cite Þat hij so fair acorded be. Þe douk ȝaf Tirri his douhter þo, And half his lond wiþ hir also, Bifor barouns & kniȝtes fre, Þat þer were of mani cuntre: Bridal sone þai han y-hold: Of erls, & of barouns bold, & of emperours, & of king Nas neuer non so riche gestening. ¶ Þe kniȝtes nomen her leue anon, Vnto her cuntres þai ben y-gon: Sir Gij soiournd þare. On a day he is þennes y-fare: Þe douk Loer & mani a man In hunting þai were toward Braban; On hunting went þerl Tirri & mani in his compeynie. Þai comen into a fair forest, Þer þai fond a bore, a wilde best. Þai vncoupled her houndes alle, & lete hem ern swiþ snelle. Þe bore fleing swiþe he geþ, & mani of þe houndes harme he deþ: An hundred he slouȝ and mo, Out of þat cuntre he is sone y-go. Þe wisest hunt folweþ fast, Huweþ & gredeþ wiþ gret blast. Of huntes ne of houndes adrad he: He ouer-ernnes dounes & cuntre, Þe brod lond, and þe valays: Folwed he is ich weys. Hij of-ernned her stedes þo, Of him wondred kniȝtes, huntes also. Alle þe houndes þat folwed him þere Oȝain turned, oþer ded were, Wiþouten blod houndes þre: Into Braban folwed he. Þer nas hunt no kniȝt non, Seriaunt no sweyn no grom Þat wist widerward þe bore gan te, Into whiche lond no what cuntre. Gij him folwed on his stede, Wiþ swerd in hond after he ȝede, & wiþ horn oft bloweing, Þe bore swiþe driueing. Gij drofA letter erased before d. þat swine wiþ game & gleThe g altered from b. Right into Breteyne þan went he. Into a forest þatThe t added above the line. swine him ȝede, Into a þicke hegges he gan him hede. Þer he stod at abay,a bay MS. & werd him while þat he may. When Gij þat stern swine y sey Adoun he lepe of his stede heye: Wiþ boþe honden þat swerd he held, & cam to þe bore as a kniȝt beld. Þat swine anon oȝain him com, And Gij smertlich smot him anon, Þat þe hert he clef euen atvo: Alle ded he fel to grounde þo. He open[ed] þat swine & blewe priis. Alon he was, him miȝt agriis: Alto fer he was fram his kniȝt. Bot on him þinke god almiȝt, Sone he worþ in a peril strong, Be it wiþ riȝt, be it wiþ wrong. Þo Gij hadde opened þat swine snelle He gan to blowe as y ȝou telle. 'Bi god,' quaþ þerl Florentin, 'Who mai þat be, for seyn Martin, Þat ich here in mi forest blowe? Hert oþer bore he haþ doun þrowe.' He cleped to him a kniȝt ȝing, His sone he was, a feir ȝongling. 'Sone,' he seyd, 'to hors þou go, & who so it be, bring him me to.' 'Sir, y graunt þat it be so.' Anon he lepe on hors þo: Into þe forest he is y-fare, & Gij he fond ful sone þare. An staf he bar of holin tre: Gret wo þer-wiþ wrouȝt he. 'Lording,' he seyd, 'who artow In mi lordes forest is comen now Wiþ-outen leue of mi lord? In iuel time þou come, at o word: When þou hast y-nomen his swin No leue haddestow of him. Þat hors anon þou take to me, Þer-on no schaltow ride, y telle þe.' 'Leue frende,' quaþ Gij, 'þat nille y do. Þat hors no tit þe, so mot y go. Kniȝtes riȝt is it non Þat he schuld fer o fot gon. To þi wille ichil wende wiþ þe, To seche þe waiis of þis cuntre. Þis horn þou miȝt wele haue, And tow wiþ loue it wille craue.' 'Lording,' he seyd, 'oþer is mi þouȝt: So astow wenest no schapestow nouȝt.' Gij bi þe reyne he haþ y-nome: Wiþ strengþe he wende to þe hors come. Þei he war wroþ, it was no ferly. Wiþ þat staf he smot sir Gij. 'Wicke man, þou hast me smite: Þou schalt it abigge, god it wite!' Wiþ his horn he him smot, His breyn he schadde fot hot. 'Now, lording,'lorging MS. quaþ Gij, 'þe swin þou nim, & alle þi wille do wiþ him. Na more smite þou no kniȝt: Þat þou me smot, þou dest vnriȝt.' ¶ Þennes he is now y-ride, & bi þe forest so long he ȝede, Þat vnneþe out wan he, For he no knew nouȝt þat cuntre. He loked fer, he loked neye: Castel no cite non he seye. Him greued þe hete & þe long day. No rod he nouȝt fer, soþ to say, Þat he no sey a castel Feir y-sett & swiþe wel: Þider-ward ȝern þan rode he. A man he mett of þat cuntre, 'Mi leue frende, telle þou me, Þis feir castel wos it be.' Þe man seyd, 'y schal telle þe, A better man no miȝt þou se: It is þe gode erl Florentin. Better man drank neuer win.' Gij anon þider-ward he rod, & in he went wiþouten abod. To þe halle gate he com riȝt, & þer he is adoun y-liȝt. An hore y-blowe kniȝt he seye At þe des sitten an heye: Long berd he hadde & sterne siȝt; A man he semed of michel miȝt. Biforn him anon Gij him dede, & feir he gret him in þat stede. 'Sir,' quaþ Gij, 'vnderstond to me: He þat þe warld made he blisce þe. Icham a kniȝt as ȝe may se: Y bid þe mete par charite. A meles mete ȝif þou me, & seþþen hennes ichil te.' 'Leue frende,' he seyd, 'sikerly, Þou schalt it haue gladly.' Þe water he axed þo anon, To wasche his honden Gij is go[n]. To mete he sett him in þat stede, Bred & win biforn him þai dede, & gret plente of oþer mete. When he hadde sumdele y-ete In þe toun he herd belles ring, & loude crie, & miche wepeing, Cloþes to-tere, her to-te: More sorwe no miȝt non be. 'God,' quaþ þerl, 'lord fre, Þis gret sorwe whi it be?' Into þe halle come þere Tvai men, & a bodi bere: Amid þe flore þai it leyden, y-wis. Quaþ þerl Florentin, 'mi sone þis is,' Torent his here, his cloþes he drouȝ: In his hert was sorwe anouȝ. 'Leue sone,' he seyd, 'who slouȝ þe? Now wold god, þat is so fre, Þat he were here in mi beylie! Nold ich it lete for al Romanie, Þat he no were anon y-slawe, For-brent, & þat dust to-blowe.' Þan seyd a squier biforn hem alle, 'Ichim se atte mete in þis halle, He þat þi dere sone slouȝ. IchIich MS. Hearing this, it seye, wiþ-outen wouȝ.' Anon þat þerl y-herd þis, Fram þe bord he aros, y-wis: An aundiren he kept in his honden þo, Hetelich it haf, & seyd him to, 'Traitour, þou schalt dye here. Why slouȝ þou mi sone dere?' Wiþ þat aundiren he þret sir Gij, & wiþ gret hate, sikerly, Ac þat dinRead dint? he feiled of him (Gij vp stert wroþ and grim): Into þe wouȝ it fleye to fot & more. 'Merci,' seyd Gij, 'for godes ore! Ȝif ich þi sone owhar a-slouȝ, It was me defendant anouȝ.' Kniȝt anon about him þrong, To slen him, boþe eld & ȝong. Gij hent in hond anon riȝt An ax þat was gode, apliȝt. Bi þat on ende of þe halle he him drouȝ, & þer he werd him wele anouȝ. Þai aseyld him strongliche, & he him werd stalworþliche. Wiþ þat com forþ þe steward liȝt, A Brabasone he was, a wel gode kniȝt: A strok he smot to sir Gij, & hewe on him ful felly. Gij of him failed nauȝt: Wiþ þe ax he haþ him rauȝt, Þat his heued he him to-clef: Al to ded to ground he dref. Þus Gij him wereþ manliche, And hij him aseyle heteliche. Þe kniȝtes he slouȝ þere, Þe best þat in þat court were. ¶ 'Sir Florentin,' seyd sir Gij, 'For godes loue now merci! Þou art y-hold so gode a man, Hennes to Rome better nis nan: & þou in þine halle me sle, For traisoun it worþ awistSo MS., not atwist. þe. In edwite it worþ þe adrawe,So MS., not drawe. Swiche a man þou schust haue slawe, When þou wiþ þi wille fre Þe mete me ȝeue par charite. Were it wiþ wrong, were it wiþ riȝt, For tresoun it worþ þe witt, apliȝt; Opon alle þing a þinga þing to be struck out? atte mete, Þer ȝe ouȝt me to were fram hete. For godes loue, sir, so michel do me, Þat ȝe þer-fore blamed no be: Do me deliuer mi stede, & lete me out at þe castel ride, & seþþen þei y slawe be No worþ ȝe nouȝt y-blamed in þe cuntre.' Þerl him wiþ-drouȝ wiþ þat: At his hert gret sorwe sat, Þat he his sone seye ligge ded. Of him no worþ him non oþer red. 'Sone,' he seyd, 'what schal y do, Whenne ich þe haue þus forgo? Who schal now weld after me Minealtered from mune. londes, þat brod be? A man icham swiþe in eld: Dye ichil, bi godes scheld.' Opon þat bodi he fel anon: Reuþe þai hadden þer-of ichon, Of his gret sorwe þat he made. To his kniȝtes no þe les he sade, 'Ichot þat non so hardi be, Þat him mis-do to-for me, Þer-while þat he in mi court is: Þat ich hot ȝou alle, y-wis, & þat his stede be himto underdotted after him. bitauȝt, & out at þe gates þat he be brouȝt, & þat he be to-hewe flesche and bon.' Þai deliuerd his stede anon: He lepe opon him swiþe, & out at þe gat he gan driue. His scheld wiþ him þan he bar, His gode swerd forȝat he nouȝt þar. Out of þe castel he is y-gon, Toward Loreyne he went anon. Þerl wiþ þat armed is: Gij he drof smertliche, y-wis, Wiþ his kniȝtes on heye stede Redi armed to þat nede. Sir Gij his stede bi-went þo: On of her kniȝtes he smot so, Þurch his bodi þe swerd is gon. Anoþer he feld þer anon. Wiþ þat come þerl prikeinde Opon his stede wele bereinde Wiþ a spere an hond y-armedThe y added above the line. wel: Gij to smite he was ful fel. Gij him wiþ-went, wold he nouȝt fle: To þerl Florentin þan smot he. Heteliche togider þai smete Opon her scheldes wiþ gret hete. Þerl alder furst smot sir Gij Wiþ a gode spere, sikerly. Gij him smot oȝain, no miȝt he as nauȝt, Þat he haþ þe grounde y-rauȝt.ra on an erasure. Bi þe reynes his stede toke he: Of þerl he hadde gret pite, For his sone he hadde aqueld, And for he was a man so eld. Fiftene ȝer weren agon Þat he er in armes come. 'Sir,' seyd Gij þer anon, 'Nim þi stede, & worþ þeron. What wonder dede þe armes bere? To ȝer more þou schust rest þe here. Her ich ȝiue þe þi stede, For þou ȝeue me þe mete at nede. In chaumber þou schust ligge stille, Oþer to chirche gon to bid godis wille. Þi court ichil quite-cleym þe. Ded ich wold raþer be, Ar ich wold wiþ þe ete At souper oþer at oþer mete.' Gij went forþ fulleliche wiþalle: Was him þer no nedes to duelle. On ich side he seye come kniȝtes, Burieys, and seriaunce redi to fiȝtes Wiþ alle þat crie of þat cuntre: Wiþ hem nomen no wold ben he. Him no was þer nouȝt worþ to abide: He priked his hors & gan to ride. Into a forest he gan to go. Oft his stede he wiþ-went þo: Mani he wounded, & mani he slouȝ Of kniȝtes þat wer gode y-nouȝ. Gij ferd forþ swiþe wiþ-alle Opon his stede, þat bar him snelle. Þurch þe forest swiþe he rode. Þerl him oȝein went wiþouten abode. Michel sorwe he made, y-pliȝt, For his sone awreke he no miȝt. His sone anon biri he dede In a chirche bifore þe auter in þat stede. Alle þat day Gij forþ rod, Alle what þe sonne adoun glod: Of alle niȝt he no blan rideinge Fort amorwe in þe daweinge, So þatAnother þat erased it seems. he to Loreyin com: Þe cuntres he knewe anon.The o indistinct. WelWel Turnbull, Wil MS. riȝt he ȝede to þat cite: IchonAbout three letters erased after Ichon. þer fond he, Alle þe best þat weren þare: For him þai hadNot made. michel care. When þai him hole & sounde y-seþ Of his coming glad hij beþ. ¶ Gij hem told þe soþe, y-wis, Hou he fram þerl aschaped is. Alle þai þonked god þo, Þat deliuerd him of his wo. Seþþen wold he nouȝt long duelle, To his cuntre he wold snelle. Gij of þe douke toke his leue, Ac he it him ȝaf wele vnneþe. Anouȝ he him bede of siluer & gold, Ac he þerof nouȝt nim nold. To þerl Tirri he ȝede þo, & þis wordes seyd him to: 'Sir erl Tirri,' seyd Gij, 'Now ichil gon, sikerli, Vnto mi cuntre into Inglond (Þat way no may y nouȝt wiþstond), Mine fader & min frendes to se: Y not ȝif þai oliues be. Seuen ȝer & more agon it is Þat ich in þat cuntre was, y-wis. Ȝif it bitide ani-þing sone Þat þou haue wiþ me to don, Be it in pes oþer in werre, Wheþer it be ner or ferre, Anon riȝt sende after me: Ichil come anon to þe,So MS. Þat ich no fot hot com to þe Al sone as ich þi sond y-se. Þi wer we haue ouer-com, & þou hast spoused þi loue. Destrud we haue ȝour fon, Erls, barouns mani on. Þi lond we han brouȝt in pes: No bestow neuer iuel at esse. Þou art a kniȝt of miȝti dede: Of þine fon þarf þe nouȝt drede. Alle min estris of Inglond Sende ichil to [þe bi] mi sond, & þou schalt to me also: Alle þine wille sende me to; & ich me self wille com to þe Sone so ich mi time may se.' 'Felawe,' quaþ Tirri, 'gramerci. Iuel biladde now am y. Oft fram deþ þou hast me scheld, & neuere no haddestow for me ȝeld. Ȝif þou wilt fro me go, Þou me sext neuer mo. Al-soSomething erased between al and so. sone so it wite our fon, Þat þou art fro me gon, On ich side ous schal arise werre Of Almeyns, Lombardes neye & ferre, Þat ben Otus kinsmen; For he was come of gret ken. Þe king of Speyne his em is, His soster haþ wedded þe douke Moralis. Doukes, erls of gret pouste His deþ willewille added at the end of the line. þai wite me. In wer & wo schal y be Þer-while þe liue is in me. & ȝif we were togider baye, Of wer no þurt ous stond no aye. And ȝif þou here wiþ me bileue wold, Anouȝ we haue of siluer & of gold, God cites and castels strong, Þe feirest and þe best of þis lond. Wiþ douke Loer ichil be, & alle Gormoise ichil ȝiue þe Wiþ alle þe worþschip þat liþe þer-to & ȝete an oþanoþer instead of an oþ MS. ichil þe do Þat neuere& instead of þat neuere MS. þe worþ of aa omitted in MS. paniPaui Turnbull. Ichil þer-of chalangij.' 'Sir erl,' quaþ Gij, 'þer-of speke nouȝt: Al idel þou hast me þer-of bisouȝt. Gret wille ich haue to þat waye: Y no lete it nouȝt, þer-fore to daye. No were it for þe loue of mi leman, Nold ich neuer wende þe fram, Ac wiþ þe euer duelle ich wolde, Þat neuer departi we ne scholde. Gon ich mot, wille y so nille, O-þink þe nouȝt, y may nouȝt duelle.'deulle origin|ally, but the e underdotted, and another added above the line. Togider þai kisten hem þo, At her departing þai wepen bo: Boþe þai wepen bitterliche, Þat folk hadde þerof pite miche. Alle þe men þat þer were Was for hem sori þere At the departing of to feren:ferren MS. Wel gode kniȝtes boþe þai weren. Gij lepe on a mule ambling, Bi þe way he rideþ sorweing. Tirri bileft sorwe makeing, & Gij his felawe bimeninge. So miche sorwe he made day & niȝt, No man miȝt tellen it, y ȝou pliȝt.This line was omitted, but after|wards added after 1. 7142 with a reference to its place. Sir Gij no lan neuer rideing, Til he com to þe se, wiþ-outen lesing. Gode winde he haþ, & passeþ sone, & come in-to Inglond mididone. Now forþ to Warwik he is y-go, King Aþelston þer he fond þo; & when he was to Warwike com, Wiþ ioie þai him vnder-fenge alle & some. Þe king toȝeines him is y-go Wiþ kniȝtes & burieys also, For he him herd preyse so miche: Þe king him loued, sikerliche, And wiþ himAdded above the line. soiournd sir Gij þe fre. On a day at þe ches pleyden he: Wiþ þat come þer þre men rideinde, Of þe cuntre fre men heldinde: To þe king þai seyd, 'sir, vnder-stond: Hard tidinges we bring þe an hond. Bot ȝe sone take ȝeme þer-to, Alle ȝour lond ȝe schul forgo. Þer is comen opon þi lond A best þat bringeþ it al to schond. Out of Irlond it come: To miche harmA letter erased after harm. it haþ y-don. It no leueþ man no wiman non, Þat it no sleþ hemAdded above the line. ichon Bot sum þat aschaped beþ Þurch chaunce and to þe cites. It freteþ men & bestes also; Riȝt for soþe y telle þe to, Neuer nas best no so kene. Gret heued it haþ & gastelich to sene: His nek is greter þan a bole, His bodi is swarter þan ani cole. It is michel, & long, & griseliche, Fram þe nouel vpward vnschepliche. Þe smallest scale þat on him is No wepen no may atame, y-wis. As a somer it is brested bifore in þe brede & swifter ernend þan ani stede. He haþ clawes also a lyoun. Men seyþ þat it is a dragoun. Gret wenges he haþ wiþ to fle. His schaft to telle alle ne mow we. Þe bodi is gret toward þe teyle. Swiche a best nas neuer, saunfeyle. Þe teyle is gret & wel long: In þe warld nis man so strong, & were y-armed neuer so, & he wiþ þe teyle smot him to, Þat he no worþ ded anon: No schuld he neuer ride no gon.'The abbreviation for the n not quite distinct. When þe king haþ y-herd þis Þat þe men him teld, y-wis, An gode while he him bi-þouȝt, Er þan þat he speke mouȝt. 'Sir,' quaþ Gij, 'no care þou nouȝt: Þer-of no haue þou no þouȝt. Into Norþ-humberlond ichil wende, & ȝif ich þat best may fende, Ich him schal ouercome þurch godes miȝt; For wiþ him ichil hold fiȝt.' ¶ 'Gij,' quaþ þe king, 'schaltow nouȝt so. No wille ich þat þou al-on go. An hundred kniȝtes schul wende wiþ þe, Þat þou may þe sikerer be.' Gij answerd anon riȝt, 'Nold neuer god ful of miȝt Þat for a best onlepi Schuld so miche folk traueli.' At þe king his leue he nam, And hom to his in he cam. His felawes he lete þer ichon: Wiþ him most go neuer on Bot Herhaud, þat was gode at nede, & oþer to kniȝtes y-armed on stede. So þai come þider on a day, & spired where þat best lay, Gij armed him wel richeliche, & seyd to his felawes hastiliche Þat so hardi þer be non O fot wiþ him for to gon. Now is Gij to a launde y-go Wher þe dragoun duelled þo. Þo Gij him seye so griseli, Of him no was he nouȝt al trusti. Wiþ þe spere he him smot smertliche, Þat was kerueand scharpeliche, Þat alto schiueresschiuereÞ MS. it to-fleye;fleyÞe originally, but the Þ struck out. Ac þe bodi com it nouȝt neye. Þo he had smiten þat best so,Þ erased before so. Wel heye he bar his heued þo, Wiþ-went him, & lepe him to: Him & hisA letter (d?) erased after his. stede he feld bo. Gij of þat strok astounded is: Neuer hadde he non swiche, y-wis. Up he stirt anon riȝt: 'God,' he seyd, 'fader almiȝt, Þat made þe day & niȝt also, & for ous sinful þoldest wo, & heldest Daniel fram þe lyoun, Saue me fram þis foule dragoun.' His swerd he drouȝ anon riȝt: To him he lepe wiþ gret miȝt, & smot him in þe heued schod A wel gret strok wiþ-outen abod; Ac no-þing sen þan was his dent: Gij him held þan al schent, Þat he no miȝt him deri nouȝt Wiþ no wepen of stiel y-wrouȝt. Bitvene hem was strong bateyle: Aiþer gan oþer for to aseyle. At asaut wiþ Gyes partinge Þat wers he hadde at þat wendinge, Þe best himwent struck out after him. neyed, & smot him Wiþ his vp-coming so fel & grim, Þat he a lappe rent outThe t added above the line. anon Of his brini, þat alle his trust was on. Now haþ Gij michel to done: To a tre he went him sone; Þer he wille bateyle abide Of þat best, what schaunce so bitide. Þat best bisides him it went, & wiþ hisstroke struck out after his. teyle a strok him sent: On þe scheld he smot him an heye, Þat euen atoThe a added above the line. it to-fleye, Al-so it were wiþ a swerd broun. Well neye Gij him fel adoun. Wiþ his taile he bigirt sir Gij, & him þrest so strongli, Þat þre ribbes he brac atvo; & Gij wiþ strengþe smot him þo: Atvo he him karf smartliche, & deliuerd him seluen manliche. Bi þe nauel he carf him ato, & wiþ a gret pine deliuerd him fro. Gij him perceyued in þat stounde Þat neuer more þurch wepen y-grounde ÞatTo be omitted? fram þe nauel vp-ward so No slouȝ him man neuer mo. Þo þat best hirt him feled,The second e underdotted. Swiþe loude he grad & ȝeled, Þat alle þat cuntre dined þere, & als wide as men herd his bere, Nis man in þe werld þat wer þer neye Þat him no miȝt agrise þat it seye. To a tre þan drouȝt him sir Gij, & werd him wele for þe maistri.The first i added above the line. His hauberk was to-rent tofore As a clout þat were al to-tore. Stalworþli sir Gij þer fauȝt, Ac wele he seye it gained him nauȝt To smite on the bodi bifore: He no miȝt him sle no no man bore. Also þat best him went aboute, Gij him biþouȝt he was in doute: Bineþenþ erased between bi and neþen. þe wenge he him smot: Þurch þat bodi þat swerd bot. Þurch þe bodi he himsmot struck out after him. carf atvo: Ded he fel to grounde þo. He grad & ȝelled swiþe loude, Þat it schilled into þe cloude. Gij wiþ-drouȝ him þer-fro anon: For stink þat of þe bodi come Neye þat bodi he no durste. After þat he ȝede him to reste. When þat best þer ded lay, For soþe y ȝou telle may, Þritti fote meten it was Þer it lay in þat plas. Þe folk of þe cuntre it mette Þer it lay wonderliche grete. Þat heued he bar þe bodi fro, And wiþ þat Gij forþ went þo. He come to his feren, apliȝt, Þat for him bad to god almiȝt. To Warwike he is y-went, Wiþ þat heued he made þe king present. Þe king was bliþe & of glad chere For þat he seye Gij hole & fere. At Warwik þai henge þe heued anon: ManiWritten twice, but erased the second time. man wondred þer-apon. God graunt hem heuen blis to mede Þat herken to mi romaunce rede Al of a gentil kniȝt: Þe best bodi he was at nede Þat euer miȝt bistriden stede, & freest founde in fiȝt. Þe word of him ful wide it ran, Ouer al þis warld þe priis he wan As man most of miȝt. Balder bern was non in bi: His name was hoten sir Gij Of Warwike, wise & wiȝt. ¶ Wiȝt he was, for soþe to say, & holden for priis in eueri play As kniȝt of gret bounde. Out of þis lond he went his way Þurch mani diuers cuntray, Þat was biȝond þe see. Seþþen he com into Inglond, & Aþelston þe king he fond, Þat was boþe hende & fre. For his loue, ich vnder-stond, He slouȝ a dragoun in Norþhumberlond, Ful fer in þe norþ cuntre. ¶ He & Herhaud, for soþe to say, To Wallingforþ toke þe way, Þat was his faders toun. Þan was his fader, soþe to say, Ded & birid in þe clay: His air was sir Gioun. . . . . . Alle þat held of him lond or fe Deden him omage & feute, & com to his somoun. He tok alle his faders lond, & ȝaf it hende Herhaud in hond Riȝt to his warisoun. ¶ & alle þat hadde in his seruise be He ȝaf hem gold & riche fe Ful hendeliche on honde, And seþþen he went wiþ his meyne To þerl Rohaud, þat was so fre: At Warwike he him fond. Alle þan were þai glad & bliþe, & þonked god a þousand siþe Þat Gij was comen to lond. Seþe on hunting þai gun ride Wiþ kniȝtes fele & miche pride As ȝe may vnderstond. ¶ On a day sir Gij gan fond, & feir Felice he tok bi hond, & seyd to þat bird so bliþe: 'Ichaue,' he seyd, 'þurch godes sond Won þe priis in mani lond Of kniȝtes strong & stiþe, & me is boden gret anour, Kinges douhter & emperour To haue to mi wiue. Ac, swete Felice,' he seyd þan, 'Y no schal neuer spouse wiman Whiles þou art oliue.' ¶ Þan answerd þat swete wiȝt, & seyd oȝain to him ful riȝt: 'Bi him þat schope mankinne, Icham desired day & niȝt Of erl, baroun, & mani a kniȝt. For noþing wil þai blinne. Ac Gij,' sche seyd, 'hende & fre, Al mi loue is layd on þe: Our loue schalThe h is incom|plete. neuer tvinne, & bot ich haue þe to make Oþer lord nil y non take, For al þis warld to winne.' ¶ Anon to hir þan answerd Gij, To fair Felice, þat sat him bi, Þat semly was of siȝt: 'Leman,' he seyd, 'gramerci!' Wiþ ioie & wiþ melodi He kist þat swete wiȝt. Þan was he boþe glad & bliþe: His ioie couþe he noman kiþe For þat bird so briȝt. He no was neuer þer-biforn Half so bliþe seþe he was born For nouȝt þat man him hiȝt. ¶ On a day þerl gan fond, & fair Felice he tok bi hond, & hir moder biside: 'Douhter,' he seyd, 'now vnder-stond; Why wiltow haue non husbond Þat miȝt þe spouse wiþ pride? Þou has ben desired of mani man, & ȝete no wostow neuer nan For nouȝt þat miȝt bitide. Leue douhter hende and fre,hende and fre on an erasure. Telle me now, par charite, What man þou wilt abide.' ¶ Felice answerd oȝain: 'Fader,' quaþ hye, 'ichil þe sain Wiþ wordes fre & hende. Fader,' quaþ sche, 'ichil ful fayn Tel þe at wordes tvain, Bi him þat schop mankende, Opon sir Gij, þat gentil kniȝt, Y-wis, mi loue is alle aliȝt, In warld where þat he wende; & bot he spouse me, at o word, Y no kepe neuer take lo[r]d Day wiþouten ende.' ¶ Þan seyd þerl wiþ wordes fre, 'Douhter, y-blisced mot þou be Of godes mouþe to mede. Ich hadde wele leuer þan al mi fe Wiþ þan he wald spousy þe, Þat douhti man of dede. He haþ ben desired of mani woman, & he haþ forsaken hem euerilcan, Þat worþly were in wede. Ac naþeles ichil to him fare, For to witen of his answare, Þat douhti man of dede.' ¶ On a day, wiþouten lesing, Þerl him rode on dere hunting, & sir Gij þe conquerour. Als þai riden on her talking Þai speken togider of mani þing, Of leuedis briȝt in bour. Þerl seyd to sir Gij hende & fre, 'Tel me þe soþe, par charite, Y pray þe par amoure: Hastow ment euer in þi liue Spouse ani wiman to wiue Þat falleþ to þine anour?' ¶ Sir Gij answerd & seyd þan, 'Bi him,' he seyd, 'þat þis warld wan, To sauen al man-kende, Bi nouȝt þat y tel can Y nil neuer spouse wiman Saue on is fre & hende.' 'Sir,' quaþ þerl, 'listen nov to me: Y haue a douhter briȝt on ble; Y pray þe, leue frende, To wiue wiltow hir vnderstond? Y schal þe sese in al mi lond, To hold wiþ-outen ende.' ¶ 'Gramerci!' seyd Gij anon; 'So help me Crist & seyn Ion, And y schuld spouse aa is a later insertion in the same hand. wiue Ich hadde leuer hir bodi alon Than winnen al þis warldes won Wiþ ani woman oliue.' Þan seyd þerl, 'gramerci!' & in his armes he kist sir Gij, & þonked him mani a siþe. 'Sir Gij,' he seyd, 'þou art mi frende: Now þou wilt spouse mi dohter hende Was y neuer are so bliþe. ¶ Ac certes,' seyd þerl so fre, 'Sir Gij, ȝif þou wilt trowe me No lenger þou no schalt abide: Now for fourteniȝt it schal be Þe bridal hold wiþ gamen & gle At Warwike in þat tyde.' Þan was sir Gij glad & bliþe: His joie couþe he no man kiþe. To his ostel he gan ride. & þo Gij com hom to his frende, He schuld spouse his douhter hende He teld Herhaud þat tide. ¶ Þerl Rouhaud as swiþe dede sende After lordinges fer & hende Þat pris wel told in tour. When þe time was comen to þende To chirche wel feir gun þai wende Wiþ mirþe & michel anour. Miche semly folk was gadred þare Of erls, barouns lasse & mare, & leuedis briȝt in bour. Þan spoused sir Gij þat day Fair Felice, þat miri may, Wiþ ioie & gre[t] vigour. ¶ When he hadde spoused þat swete wiȝt Þe fest lasted a fourtenniȝt, Þat frely folk in fere Wiþ erl, baroun, & mani a kniȝt, And mani a leuedy fair & briȝt, Þe best in lond þat were. Þer wer ȝiftes for þe nones, Gold, & siluer, & precious stones, & druries riche & dere. Þer was mirþe & melody, And al maner menstracie As ȝe may forþeward here. ¶ Þer was trumpes & tabour, Fiþel, croude, & harpour, Her craftes for to kiþe, Organisters & gode stiuours, Minstrels of mouþe, & mani dysour, To glade þo bernes bliþe. Þer nis no tong may telle in tale Þe ioie þat was at þat bridale Wiþ menske & mirþe to miþe; For þer was al maner of gle Þat hert miȝt þinke oþer eyȝeA faint dot over the second e, which seems to be casual, but was taken by Turn|bull for the ab|breviation for n. se As ȝe may list & liþe. ¶ Herls, barouns hende & fre, Þat þer war gadred of mani cuntre, Þat worþliche were in wede, Þai ȝouen glewemen for her gle Robes riche, gold, & fe: Her ȝiftes were nouȝt gnede. On þe fiften day ful ȝare Þai toke her leue for to fare, & þonked hem her gode dede. Þan hadde Gij, þat gentil kniȝt, Feliis to his wil day & niȝt In gest al-so we rede. ¶ When Gij hadde spoused þat hendy flour, Fair Feliis, so briȝt in bour, Þat was him leue & dere, Y-wis, in Warwike in þat tour Fiften days wiþ honour Wiþ ioie togider þai were. So it bifel þat first niȝt Þat he neyȝed þat swete wiȝt A child þai geten y-fere, & seþþen wiþ sorwe & sikeing sare Her ioie turned hem into care As ye may forward here. ¶ Þan was sir Gij of gret renoun & holden lord of mani a toun As prince proude in pride; Þat erl Rohaut & sir Gyoun, In fretþe to fel þe dere adoun, On hunting þai gun ride. It bi-fel opon a somers day Þat sir Gij at Warwike lay (In herd is nouȝt to hide); At niȝt, in tale as it is told, To bedde went þe bernes bold Bi time, to rest þat tide. ¶ To a turet sir Gij is went, & biheld þat firmament, Þat thicke wiþ steres stode. On Iesu omnipotent, Þat alle his honour hadde him lent, He þouȝt wiþ dreri mode; Hou he hadde euer ben strong werrour, For Iesu loue, our saueour, Neuer no dede he gode. Mani man he hadde slayn wiþ wrong. 'Allas, allas!' it was his song: For sorwe he ȝede ner wode. ¶ 'Allas,' he seyd, 'þat y was born: Bodi & soule icham forlorn. Of blis icham al bare. For neuer in al mi liif biforn For him þat bar þe croun of þorn Gode dede dede y nare; Bot wer & wo ichaue wrouȝt,don wrouȝt, MS. & mani a man to grounde y-brouȝt: Þat rewes me ful sare. To bote min sinnes ichil wende Barfot to mi liues ende, To bid mi mete wiþ care.' ¶ As Gij stode þus in tour alon In hert him was ful wo bigon: 'Allas!' it was his song. Þan com Feliis sone anon, & herd him make rewely mon Wiþ sorwe & care among. 'Leman,' sche seyd, 'what is þi þouȝt? Whi artow þus in sorwe brouȝt? Meþenke þi pain wel strong.The r added above the line. Hastow ouȝt herd of me bot gode, Þat þou makes þus dreri mode? Y-wis, þou hast gret wrong.' ¶ 'Leman,' seyd Gij oȝain, 'Ichil þe telle þe soþe ful fain Whi icham brouȝt to grounde. Seþþen y þe seyȝe first wiþ ayn ("Allas þe while," y may sayn) Þi loue me haþ so y-bounde, Þat neuer seþþen no dede y gode, Bot in wer schadde mannes blode Wiþ mani a griseli wounde. Now may me rewe al mi liue. That euer was y born o wiue, Wayle-way þat stounde! ¶ Ac ȝif ich hadde don half þe dede For him þat on rode gan blede Wiþ grimly woundes sare, In heuene he wald haue quit mi mede, In joie to won wiþ angels wede Euer-more wiþ-outen care. Ac for þi loue ich haue al wrouȝt: For his loue dede y neuer nouȝt. Iesu amende mi fare! Þerfore ich wot þat icham lorn: Allas þe time þat y was born! Of blis icham al bare. ¶ Bot god is curteys & hende, & so dere he haþ bouȝt mankende, For noþing wil hem lete. For his loue ichil now wende Barfot to mi liues ende, Mine sinnes for to bete, Þat whore so y lye aniȝt Y schal neuer be seyn wiþ siȝt Bi way no bi strete. Of alle þe dedes y may do wel God graunt þe, lef, þat haluendel And Marie, his moder swete.' ¶ Þan stode þat hende leuedi stille, & in hir hert hir liked ille, & gan to wepe anon. 'Leman,' sche seyd, 'what is þi wille? Y-wis, þi speche wil me spille: Y not what y may don. Y wot þou hast in sum cuntre Spoused anoþer woman þan me, Þat þou wilt to hir gon. & now þou wilt fro me fare, Allas, allas, now comeþ mi care: For sorwe ichil me slon. ¶ For wer & wo þatow hast wrouȝt, God þat al mankende haþ bouȝt So curteys he is & hende, Schriue þe wele in word & þouȝt, & þan þe þarf dout riȝt nouȝt Oȝaines þe foule fende. Chirches & abbays þou miȝt make Þat schal pray for þi sake To him þat schope mankende: Hastow no nede to go me fro, Saue þou miȝt þi soule fram wo In joie wiþouten ende.' ¶ 'Leue leman,' þan seyd sir Gij, 'Lete ben alle þis reweful cri: It is nouȝt worþ þi tale. For mani a bern & kniȝt hardi Ich haue y-sleyn, sikerly, & strued cites fale, & for ich haue destrued mankin Y schal walk for mi sinne Barfot bi doun & dale. Þat ich haue wiþ mi bodi wrouȝt Wiþ mi bodi it schal be bouȝt, To bote me of þat bale. ¶ Leman,' he seyd, 'par charite, Astow art boþe hende & fre, O þing y þe pray: Loke þou make no sorwe for me, Bot hold þe stille astow may be Til to-morwe at day. Gret wele þi fader, þat is so hende, & þi moder, & al þi frende Bi sond as y þe say. Grete wele Herhaud, y þe biseche. Leman, god y þe biteche: Y wil fare forþ in mi way. ¶ Leman, y warn þe biforn, Wiþ a knaue child þou art y-corn, Þat douhti beþ of dede. For him þat bar þe croun of þorn Þerfore as sone as it is born Pray Herhaud wiȝt in wede He teche mi sone as he wele can Al þe þewes of gentil man, & helpe him at his nede; For he is boþe gode & hende, & euer he haþ ben trewe & kende: God quite him his mede! ¶ Leman,' he seyd, 'haue here mi brond, & take mi sone it in his hond, Astow art hende & fre! He may þer-wiþ, ich vnder-stond, Winne þe priis in eueri lond; For better may non be. Leman,' he seyd, 'haue now gode day: Ichil fare forþ in mi way, & wende in mi jurne.' Þai kist hem in armes tvo, & boþe þai fel aswon þo. Gret diol it was to se. ¶ Gret sorwe þai made at her parting, & kist hem wiþ eyȝen wepeing: Bi þe hond sche gan him reche. 'Leman,' sche seyd, 'haue here þis ring, For Iesus loue heuen-king A word y þe biseche: When þou ert in fer cuntre Loke heron, & þenk on me, & god y þe biteche.' Wiþ þat word he went hir fro Wepeand wiþ eyȝen to Wiþouten more speche. Now is Gij fram Warwike fare, Vnto þe se he went ful ȝare, & passed ouer þe flod. Þe leuedy bileft at hom in care Wiþ sorwe, & wo, & sikeing sare:fare MS. Wel drery was hir mode. 'Allas, allas!' it was hir song: Hir here sche drouȝ, hir hond sche wrong, Hir fingres brast o blode. Al þat niȝt til it was day Hir song it was 'wayleway': For sorwe sche ȝede ner wode. ¶ Hir lordes swerd sche drouȝ biforn,Read bifore: sore? & þouȝt haue slain hirself for sornRead bifore: sore? Wiþouten more delay. To sle hirseluen, er þe child wer born, Sche þouȝt hir soule it wer forlornThe r added above the line. Euermore at domesday, & þat hir fader, hir frendes ichon Schuld seyn hir lord it hadde y-don, And were so fled oway. Þerfore sche dede his swerd oȝain, Elles for sorwe sche hadde hir slain, In gest as y ȝou say. ¶ Arliche amorwe when it was day To chaumber, þer hir fader lay, Sche com wringand hir hond. 'Fader,' sche seyd, 'ichil þe say Mi lord is went fro me his way, In pilgrimage to fond. He will passe ouer þe se, Schal he neuer com to me Oȝain into Inglond.' For sorwe þat sche hadde þat stounde Aswon sche fel adoun to grounde: O fot no miȝt sche stonde. ¶ 'Douhter,' seyd hir fader, 'lat be. Y trowe nouȝt þat sir Gij þe fre Is þus fram þe fare. Y-wis, he nis nouȝt passed þe se: He ne doþ nouȝt bot for to fond þe, Hou trewe of hert þou ware.' 'Nay, sir,' sche seyd, 'so god me spede, He is walked in pouer wede, To beggen his mete wiþ care. & þer-fore now singen y may, "Allas þe time & wayleway Þat mi moder me bare." ' ¶ Þerl ros vp with sikeing sare, For sir Gij was fram him fare: In hert him was ful wo, & alle his frendes lesse & mare For sir Gij þai hadde gret care, For he was went hem fro. Þai souȝt him þan al about Wiþin þe cite & wiþout, Þer he was won to go. & when þai founde him nouȝt þat day Þere was mani a wayleway, Wrin-gand her hondes tvo. ¶ And when Gij was fram hem gon Herhaud, & his frendes ichon, & oþer barouns him by To þerl Rohaut þai seyden anon, 'Þe best rede þat we can don, Smertliche & hastily Messangers we schul now sende Ouer alle þis lond fer & hende, To seche mi lord sir Gij. & ȝif he be nouȝt in þis lond He is in Loreyn, ich vnderstond, Wiþ his broþer Tirry.' ¶ Menssangers anon þai sende Ouer al þis lond fer & hende Fram Londen in-to Louþe, Ouer al biȝonde Humber & Trent, & est & west þurch-out al Kent To þe hauen of Portesmouthe. Þai souȝt him ouer al vp & doun, Ouer alle þe lond in euerich toun Bi costes þat wer couþe, & seþþen to Warwike þai gan wende, & seyd þai miȝt him no-whar fende Bi norþ no bi souþe. ¶ Herhaud was wele vnder-stond Þat Gij was fer in vncouþe lond. Ful hende he was & fre: Palmers wede he tok on hond, To seche his lord he wald fond Vnto þe Grekis see. To þerl Rohaut he seyd anon To seche his lord he most gon Þurch alle Christiante. When þerl seye him þus y-diȝt, 'Þou art,' he seyd, 'a trewe kniȝt: Y-blisced mot þou be.' ¶ Þo went Herhaud so trewe in tale To seche his lord in londes fale: For noþing he nold abide. He ȝede ouer alle bi doun & dale To eueri court & kinges sale Bi mani a lond side, Þurch NormondyeThe r added above the line. and alle Speyne, Into Fraunce & þurch Breteyne: He ȝede boþe fer & wide Þurch Lorain & þurch Lombardye, & neuer no herd he telle of Gij For nouȝt þat miȝt bitide. ¶ When Herhaud had souȝt him fer and hende, & he no miȝt him no-whar fende, Noiþer bi se no sond, Into Inglond he gan wende, & þerl Rohaut & al his frende At Warwike he hem fond, & teld he hadde his lord souȝt, & þat he no miȝt finde him nouȝt In non skinnes lond. Mani a moder child þat day Wepe & gan say, 'waileway,'MS. waileway rather than walleway. Wel sore wringand her hond. Now herken, & ȝe may here In gest, ȝif ȝe wil listen & lere, Hou Gij as pilgrim ȝede. He welke about wiþ glad chere Þurch mani londes fer & nere, Þer god him wald spede. First he went to Jerusalem, & seþþen he went to Bedlem Þurch mani an vncouþe þede. Ȝete he biþouȝt him seþþen þo For to sechen halwen mo, To winne him heuen mede. ¶ Þo he went his pilgrimage Toward þe court of Antiage, Bi þis half þat cite He mett a man of fair parage: Y-comen he was of heyȝe linage, & of kin fair & fre. Michel he was of bodi y-piȝt, A man he semed of michel miȝt & of gret bounte, Wiþ white-hore heued & berd y-blowe, As white as ani driuen snowe: Gret sorwe þan made he. ¶ So gret sorwe þer he made, Sir Gij of him rewþe hade. He gan to wepe so sare, His cloþ he rent, his here to-tore,to torn MS. & curssed þe time þat he was bore:born MS. Wel diolful was his fare. More sorwe made neuer man. Gij stode & loked on him þan, & hadde of him gret care. He seyd, 'allas & walewo! Al mi joie it is ago. Of blis icham al bare.' ¶ 'Gode man, what artow,' seyd Gij, 'Þat makest þus þis reweful cri & þus sorweful mone? Meþenke, for þe icham sori, For þat þine hert is þus drery, Þi ioie is fro þe gon. Telle me þe soþe, y pray þe For godes loue in trinite, Þat þis world haþ in won; For Iesu is of so michel miȝt, He may make þine hert liȝt, & þou no[s]t neuer hou son.' ¶ 'Gode man,' seyd þe pilgrim, 'Þou hast me frained bi god þin To telle þe of mi fare, And alle þe soþ wiþ-outen les Ichil þe telle, hou it wes, Of blis hou icham bare. So michel sorwe is on me steke, Þat min hert it wil to-breke Wiþ sorwe & sikeing sare. Forlorn ich haue al mi blis: Y no schal neuer haue joie, y-wis. In erþe y wald y ware. ¶ A man y was of state sum stounde, & holden a lord of gret mounde, & erl of al Durras. Fair sones ich hadde fiftene, & alle were kniȝtes stout & kene. Men cleped me þerl Ionas. Y trowe in þis warld is man non, Y-wis, þat is so wo-bi-gon, Seþþen þe world made was; For alle min sones ich haue forlorn: Better berns were non born. Þerfore y sing, "allas!" ¶ For bliþe worþ y neuer more: Alle mi sones ich haue forlore Þurch a batayl vnride, Þurch Sarrazins þat fel wore: To Ierusalem þai com ful ȝore To rob & reue wiþ pride, & we toke our ost anon, Oȝaines hem we gun gon, Bateyl of hem to abide. Þe acountre of hem was so strong, Þat mani dyed þer-among, Or we wald rest þat tide. ¶ Þurch mi fiftene sonesom MS. Were þe geauntes ouer-come, & driuen doun to grounde. Fiftene amirals þer wer nome: Þe king gan fle wiþ alle his trome For drede of ous þat stounde. Ich & mi sones, wiþouten lesing, Out of þat lond we driuen þe king, And his men ȝaf dedli wounde. Þe king him hiȝt Triamour: A lord he was of gret honour, & man of michel mounde. ¶ Þan dede we wel-gret foly: We suwed him wiþ maistrie Into his owhen lond. Into Alisaundre þai fleye owy: Þe cuntre ros vp wiþ a cri, To help her king anhond. In a brom feld þer wer hidde Þre hundred Sarrazins wele y-schridde Wiþ helme & grimly brond. Out of þat brom þai lepen anon, & bilapped ous euer-ichon, & drof ous alle to schond. ¶ Þai hewen at ous wiþ michel hete, & we leyd on hem dintes grete, & slouwen of her ferred. & ar þat we were alle y-nome Mani of hem were ouercome, Ded wounded vnder wede. Þai were to mani & we to fewe: Al our armour þai to-hewe, & stiked vnder ous our stede. Ȝete we fouȝten afot long, Til swerdes brosten þat were strong, & þan ȝeld we ous for nede. ¶ To þe king we ȝolden ous al & some Þat we miȝt to raunsom come, To saue our liues ichon. Into Alisaunder he ladde ous þo, & into his prisoun dede ous do, Was maked of lime & ston. Litel was our drink & lasse our mete, For hunger we wende our liues lete: Wel wo was ous bigon. So were we þer alle þat ȝer Wiþ michel sorwe boþeRead alle? y-fere, Þat socour com ous non. ¶ So it bifel þat riche Soudan Made a fest of mani a man, Of þritti kinges bi tale. King Triamour com to court þo, & Fabour, his sone, dede also, Wiþ kniȝtes mani & fale. Þe þridde day of þat fest, Þat was so riche & so honest, So derlich diȝt in sale— After þat fest, þat riche was, Þer bifel a wonder cas, Wher-þurch ros michel bale. ¶ Þat riche Soudan hadde a sone Þat was y-hold a doughti gome: Sadok was his name. Þe kinges sone Fabour he cleped him to: Into his chaumber þai gun go, Þo knightes boþe y-same. Sadok gan to Fabour sayn Ȝif he wald ate ches playn, & held oȝain him game; & he answerd in gode maner He wald play wiþ him y-fere, Wiþ-outen ani blame. ¶ Ate ches þai sett hem to playn, Þo hendy kniȝtes boþe tvayn, Þat egre were of siȝt:Read fiȝt? Er þai hadde don half a game, Wiþ strong wretþe þai gan to grame, Þo gomes michel of miȝt. Þurch a chek Fabour seyd, for soþ, Sadok in hert wex wroþ, & missayd him anon riȝt, & clep[e]d him 'fiz a putayn,' & smot him wiþ miȝt and main, Wher-þurch ros michel fiȝt. ¶ Wiþ a roke he brac his heued þan, Þat þe blod biforn out span In þat ich place. 'Sadok,' seyd þan Fabour, 'Þou dost me gret deshonour Þat þou me manace. Nar þou mi lordes sone were, Þou schuldest dye riȝt now here: Schustow neuer hennes passe.' Sadok stirt vp to Fabour, & cleped him anon 'vile traitour,' & smot him in the face. ¶ Wiþ his fest he smot him þore, Þat Fabour was agreued sore, & stirt vp in þat stounde. Þe cheker he hent vp fot hot, And Sadok in þe heued he smot, Þat he fel ded to grounde. His fader sone he haþ y-teld Þat he haþ the Soudan sone aqueld, & ȝouen him deþes wounde. On hors þai lopen þan biliue, Out of þe lond þai gun driue For ferd þai were y-founde. ¶ When it was þe Soudan teld, Þat his sone was aqueld, & brouȝt of his liif dawe, On al maner he him biþouȝt Hou þat he him wreke mouȝt Þurch iugement of lawe. After þe king he sent an heyȝe, To defende him of þat felonie, Þat he his sone haþ y-slawe; & bot he wald com anon Wiþ strengþe he schuld on him gon, Wiþ wilde hors don him drawe. ¶ King Triamour com to court þo, & Fabour, his sone, dede also, To þe Soudans parlement. When þai bi-forn him comen beþ Þai were adouted of her deþ: Her liues þai wende haue spent; For þe Soudan cleped hem fot hot, & his sones deþ hem atwot, & seyd þai were alle schent. Bot þai hem þerof were miȝt In strong perile he schuld hem diȝt And to her iugement. ¶ Þan dede he com forþ a Sarrazine, Haue he Cristes curs & mine Wiþ boke & eke wiþ belle. Out of Egypt he was y-come, Michel & griselich was þat gome Wiþ ani god man to duelle. He is so michel & vnrede, Of his siȝt a man may drede, Wiþ tong as y þe telle. As blac he is as brodes brend: He semes as it were a fende, Þat comen were out of helle. ¶ For he is so michel of bodi y-piȝt, Oȝains him tvelue men haue no miȝt, Ben þai neuer so strong; For he is four fot, sikerly, More þan ani man stont him bi: So wonderliche he is long. Ȝif king Triamour þat þer was Miȝt fenden him in playn place Of þat michel wrong, Þan is þat vile glotoun Made þe Soudans champioun, Batayl of him to fong. ¶ King Triamour answerd þan To þat riche Soudan In þat ich stounde Þat he wald defende him wele y-nouȝ Þat he neuer his sone slouȝ, No ȝaf him dedli wounde. When he seye Amoraunt so grim (Þer durst no man fiȝt wiþ him: So grille he was on grounde), Þan asked he respite til a day, To finde anoþer ȝif he may Oȝaines him durst founde. ¶ Þan hadde he respite al þat ȝere & fourti days: so was þe maner Þurch lawe was þan in lond, Ȝif him seluen durst nouȝt fiȝt Finde anoþer ȝif he miȝt Oȝaines him durst stond. Þe king as swiþe hom is went, Ouer alle his lond anon he sent After erl, baroun, and bond, & asked ȝif ani wer so bold: Þriddendel his lond haue he schold Þe batayl durst take an hond. ¶ Ac for nouȝt þat he hot miȝt Þer was non durst take þe fiȝt Wiþ þe geaunt for his sake. Þan was ich out of prisoun nome, Biforn him he dede me come, Conseyl of me to take, And asked me at worde fewe Ȝif y wist oþer y-knewe A man so miȝti of strake Þat for him durst take þe fiȝt: Were he buriays oþer kniȝt, Riche prince he wald him make. ¶ & ȝif y miȝt ani fende He wald make me riche & al mi kende, & ȝif me gret honour, & wold sese into min hond To helden þriddendel his lond Wiþ cite, toun, & tour. Ac ichim answerd þan In alle þis warld was þer [no] man To fiȝt wiþ þat traitour, Bot ȝif it Gij of Warwike were, Or Herhaud of Ardern, his fere: 'In warld þai bere þe flour.' ¶ When þe king herd þo Þat y spac of þo kniȝtes to, Ful bliþe he was of chere. He kist me, so glad he was. 'Merci,' he seyd, 'erl Ionas! Þou art me leue & dere. Ȝif ich hadde here sir Gij, Or Herhaud, þat is so hardi, Of þe maistri siker y were. & þou miȝtest bring me her on, Þe & thine sones y schal lete gon Fram prisoun quite & skere.' ¶ Bi mi lay he dede me swere Þat y schuld trewelich bode bere To þo kniȝtes so hende, & seyd to me as swiþe anon Wiþ michel sorwe he schuld me slon Bot ichem miȝt fende, & al mine sones do to-drawe, & ichim graunt in þat þrawe, To bring hem out of bende. Out of þis lond y went þo Wiþ michel care & michel wo: Y nist wider to wende. ¶ Y souȝt hem into the lond of Coyne, Into Calaber, & into Sessoyne, & fro þennes into Almayne, In Tuskan & in Lombardye, In Fraunce & in Normondye, Into þe lond of Speyne, In Braban, in Poil, & in Bars & in-to kinges lond of Tars, & þurch al Aquitayne, In Cisil, in Hungri, & in Ragoun, In Romayne, Borgoine, & Gascoine, & þurch-out al Breteyne. ¶ & into Inglond wenden y gan, & asked þer mani a man, Boþe ȝong & old, & in Warwike þat cite, Þer he was lord of þat cuntre, For to hauen in wold; Ac y no fond non lite no miche Þat couþe telle me sikerliche Of þo to kniȝtes bold, Wher y schold Gij no Herhaud fende In no lond fer no hende: Þerfore min hert is cold. ¶ For ich haue þe king mi trewþe y-pliȝt Þat y schal bring Gij now riȝt Ȝif ich oliues be. & ȝiue y bring him nouȝt anon Wele ich wot he wil me slon: Þer-fore wel wo is me. & min sones he schal don hong, & to-drawe wiþ michel wrong, Þo kniȝtes hende & fre. & ȝif þai dye gret harm it is. For hem ich haue swiche sorwe,sorwe added at the end of the line. y-wis: Mine hert wil breken on þre.' 'God man,' seyd Gij, 'listen me now. For þine sones gret sorwe hastow, & no wonder it nis. When þou Gij & Herhaud hasthaþ MS. souȝt, & þou no may hem finde nouȝt, Þi care is michel, y-wis. Þurch hem þine hope was to go fre, & þi sones al forþ wiþ þe, Þurch godes help & his. Sum time bi dayes old For douhti man y wasmen þai wer MS. told & holden of gret priis. ¶ Þurch godes helpe, our driȝt (He be min help, & ȝiue me miȝt, & leue me wele to spede!), & for Gyes loue & Herhaud also, Þat þou hast souȝt wiþ michel wo, Þat douhti were of dede, Batayl ichil now for þe fong Oȝain þe geaunt, þat is so strong, Þou seyst is so vnrede. & þei he be þe fende out-riȝt, Y schal for þe take þe fiȝt, & help þe at þis nede.' ¶ When þerl herd him speke so, Þat he wald batayl fong for him þo, He biheld fot & heued: Michel he was of bodi piȝt, A man he semed of michel miȝt, Ac pouerliche he was biweued; Wiþ a long berd his neb was growe. Miche wo him þought he hadde y-drowe. He wende his wit were reued, For he seyd he wald as ȝern Fiȝt wiþ þat geaunt stern Bot.Read As? ȝif he hadde him preued.proued MS. ¶ 'God man,' þan seyd he, 'God al-miȝten for-ȝeld it þe, Þat is so michel of miȝt, Þatow wost batayl for me fong Oȝain þe geaunt, þat is so strong. Þou knowest him nouȝt, y pliȝt. For ȝif he loked on þe wiþ wrake Sternliche wiþ his eyȝen blake, So grim he is of siȝt, Wastow neuer so bold in al þi teime,So MS. Þatow durst batayl of him nim, No hold oȝaines him fiȝt.' ¶ 'Gode man,' seyd Gij, 'lat be þat þouȝt, For swiche wordes help ous nouȝt Oȝain þat schrewe qued. Mani haþ loked me opon Wiþ wicked wil, mani on Þat wald han had min hed; & þei no fled y neuer ȝete, No neuer for ferd batayl lete For noman þat brac bred. & þei he be þe deuels rote, Y schal nouȝt fle him a fot, Bi him þat suffred ded.' ¶ 'Leue sir,' þan seyd he, 'God of heuen forȝeld it te: Þine wordes er ful swete.' For ioie he hadde in hert þat stounde On knes he fel adoun to grounde, & kist sir Gyes fet. Gij tok him vp in armes to. Into Alisaunder þai gun go, Wiþ þe king to mete; & when þai com in-to þe tour Bifor þe king sir Triamour, Wel fair þai gun him grete. ¶ And when he seye þerl Ionas, Unneþe he knewe him in þe fas: So chaunged was his ble. 'Erl Ionas,' seyd þe king, 'Telle me now wiþ-outen lesing, Gij & Herhaud where ben he?' Þerl answerd, & siked sore, 'Gij no Herhaud sestow no more; For soþe y telle þe, For hem ich haue in Inglond ben, & y no miȝt hem no-whar sen: Þer-fore wel wo is me. ¶ Ac þe lond folk teld me in speche Þat Gij was gon halwen to seche Wel fer in vncouþe lond, & Herhaud after him is went For to seche him, verrament: Noiþer of hem y no fond, Ac þis man ich haue brouȝt to þe Þat haþ ben man of gret bounte, Þat wele dar take on hond Oȝain þe geaunt þat is so fel, Al for to fende þe ful wel: For drede wil he nouȝt wond.' ¶ 'Erl Ionas,' seyd þe king, 'Loke wiþ him be no feynting, Þat y deseyued be. & ȝif þer be, þou schalt anon Be honged & þi sones ichon.' 'Y graunt, sir,' þan seyd he. Þe king cleped sir Gyoun, & asked him at schort resoun, 'What is þy name? tel me.' Sir Gij answerd to þe king, 'Youn,' he said, 'wiþ-outen lesing, Men clepeþ me in mi cuntre.' ¶ 'What cuntre artow?' þe king sede. 'Of Inglond, so god me rede: Þerin ich was y-bore.'y born MS. 'Owe,' seyd þe king, 'artow Inglis kniȝt, Þan schuld y þurch skil and riȝt Hate þe euer more. Knewe þou nouȝt þe godeAn erasure before gode. Gij Or Herhaud þat was so hardi? Tel me þe soþe bifore. Wele ouȝt ich be Gyes foman: He slouȝ mi broþer Helmadan; Þurch him icham forlore. ¶ Min emMinem MS. he slouȝ, þe riche Soudan, Ate mete among ous euerilkan. Seyȝe y neuer man so bigin:The first two letters are indis|tinct; Turnbull ingin. Y seyȝe hou he his heued of smot, & bar it oway wiþ him fot hot, Maugre þat was þer-inne. After him we driuen þo, Þe deuel halp him þennes to go: Y trowe he is of his kinne. Mahoun ȝaf þat þou wer he! Ful siker miȝt y þan be Þe maistri for to winne.' ¶ Sir Gij answerd to þe king, 'Wel wele y knowe, wiþouten lesing, Herhaud, so god me rede. & ȝif þou haddest her on here, Of þe maistri siker þou were, Þe bateyl for to bede.' Þe king asked him anon riȝt, 'Whi artow þus iuel y-diȝt And in þus pouer wede? A feble lord þou seruest, so þenkeþ me, Or oway he haþ driuen þe For sum iuel dede.' ¶ 'Nay, sir, for god,' quaþ Gij, 'A wel gode lord [ar] þan serue[d] y: Wiþ him was no blame. Wel michel honour he me dede, & gret worþschipe in eueri stede, & sore ich haue him grame[d],The r added above the line. & þer-fore icham þus y-diȝt, To cri him merci day & niȝt, Til we ben frendes same. & mi lord & y frende be, Ichil wende hom to mi cuntre, & liue wiþ ioie & game.' ¶ 'Frende Youn,' seyd þe king, 'Wiltow fiȝt for mi þing? Oþer y schal anoþer puruay.' 'Þerfor com ich hider,' quaþ Gij, 'Þurch Godes help & our leuedi As wele as y may. Bot first þerl Ionas & his sones Schal be deliuerdThe i added above the line. out of prisones Þis ich selue day.'A line erased after this. Þe king answerd, 'y graunt þe. Mahoun he mot þine he[l]p be, Þat is mi lord verray.' ¶ 'Nay,' seyd Gij, 'bot Marie sone: He mot meme] þe erased in MS. to help come, For Mahoun is worþ nouȝt.' 'Frende Youn,' seyd þe king, 'Under-stond now mi teling, Al what ich haue y-þouȝt. Ȝif þat þou may ouercom þe fiȝt, & defende me wiþ riȝt (Þe wrong is on me souȝt), So michel y schal for þe do, Þat men schal speke þer-of euer mo As wide as þis wald is wrouȝt. ¶ Alle þe men þat in my prisoun be Þai schul be deliuerd for loue of þe Þat Cristen men be told. Fram henne to Ynde þat cite Quite-claym þai schul go fre Boþe ȝong and old. And so gode pes y schal festen anon, Þat Cristen men schul comen & gon To her owhen wille in wold.' 'Gramerci,' þan seyd sir Gij. 'Þat is a fair ȝift, sikerly. God leue þe it wele to hold.' ¶ Þe king dede make a baþe anon riȝt, For to baþe Gij & better diȝt: In silk he wald him schrede. 'Nay, sir,' þan seyd sir Gij, 'Swiche cloþes non kepe y, Also god me rede, To were cloþes gold-bi-go (For y was neuer wont þerto) No non so worþliche wede. Mete and drink anouȝ ȝiue me, & riche cloþes lat þou be: Y kepe non swiche prede. In MS. the first three lines of st. 90 are written as if belonging to st. 89.& when þe time com to þende, Þat þai schuld to court wende, Þer sembled a fair ferred. King Triamour maked him ȝare þo, And Fabour his sone dede also, Wiþ kniȝtes stiþe on stede. To court ward þan went he, To Espire, þat riche cite, Wiþ joie & michel prede. To þe Soudan þai went on heye Wiþ wel gret cheualrie, Bateyleof him erased after Bateyle. for to bede. ¶ Gij was ful wele in armes diȝt Wiþ helme, & plate, & brini briȝt, Þe best þat euer ware. Þe hauberk he hadde was renis,Read eluis? Þat was king Clarels, y-wis, In Ierusalem when he was þare. A þef stale it in þat stede, & oway þerwiþ him dede: To heþenesse he it bare. King Triamours elders it bouȝt, & in her hord house þai þouȝtþai it þouȝt MS. To hold it euer mare. ¶ Sir Gij þai toke it in þat plas. Þritti winter afrayd it nas: Ful clere it was of mayle, As briȝt as ani siluer it was: Þe halle schon þerof as sonne of glas, For soþe wiþouten fayle. His helme was of so michel miȝt, Was neuer man ouer-comen in fiȝt Þat hadde it on his ventayle. It was Alisaunders, þe gret lording, When he fauȝt wiþ Poreus þe king, Þat hard him gan aseyle. ¶ A gode swerd he hadde, wiþ-outen faile, Þat was Ectors in Troye batayle, In gest as so men fint. Ar he þat swerd dede forgon, Of Grece he slouȝ þer mani on, Þat died þurch þat dint. Hose & gambisoun so gode kniȝt schold, A targe listed wiþ gold About his swere he hint. Nas neuer wepen þat euer was make[d] Þat o schel miȝt þerof take, Na more þan of þe flint. ¶ OrFor MS. king Triamours elders it lauȝt, King Darri sum time it auȝt: Þat Gij was vnder piȝt. Ich man axe oþer bigan Whennes & who was þat man Þat wiþ þe geaunt durst fiȝt. King Triamour seyd wiþ wordes fre, 'Sir Soudan, herken now to me, Astow art hendy kniȝt. To þi court icham now come To defende me of þat ich gome Þat is so stern of siȝt. ¶ Þis litel kniȝt þat stont me by Schal fende me of þat felonie, & make me quite & skere.' 'Be stille,' seyd þe Soudan þo, 'Þat batail schal wel sone be go, Also brouke y mi swere.' He dede clepe Amorant so grim, & Gij stode & loked on him, Hou foule he was of chere. 'It is,' seyd Gij, 'no mannes sone: It is a deuel fram helle is come. What wonder doþ he here? ¶ Who miȝt his dintes dreye, Þat he no schuld dye an heye? So strong he is of dede.' Þan speken þai alle of þe batayle: Where it schuld be, wiþ-outen fayle, Þai token hem to rede. Þan loked þai it schuld be In a launde vnder þe cite: Þider þai gun hem lede. Wiþ a riuer it ern al about: Þer-in schuld fiȝt þo kniȝtes stout. Þai miȝt fle for no nede. ¶ Ouer þe water þai went in a bot, On hors þai lopen fot hot, Þo kniȝtes egre of mode. Þai priked þe stedes þat þai on sete, & smiten togider wiþ dentes grete, & ferd as þai wer wode, Til her schaftes in þat tide Gun to schiuer bi ich a side About hem þer þai stode. Þan þai drouȝ her swerdes grounde, & hewe togider wiþ grimli wounde, Til þai spradde al ablode. ¶ Sir Amoraunt drouȝ his gode brond, Þat wele carf al þat it fond, When he hadde lorn his launce: Þat neuer armour miȝt wiþstond Þat was made of smitþes hond In heþenesse no in Fraunce. It was sir Ercules þe strong, Þat mani he slouȝ þer-wiþ wiþ wrong In batayle & in destaunce. Þer was neuer man þat it bere Ouer-comen in batayle no in were, Bot it were þurch meschaunce. ¶ It was baþed in þe flom of helle: A goddesA goddes] MS. Agnes. ȝaf it him to wille, He schuld þe better spede. Who þat bar þat swerd of miȝt, Was neuer man ouercomen in fiȝt, Bot it were þurch vnlede. Þer worþ sir Gij to deþ y-brouȝt, Bot ȝif god haue of him þouȝt, His best help at nede. Togider þai wer ȝern heweinde Wiþ her brondes wele kerueinde, And maden her sides blede. ¶ Sir Amoraunt was agreued in hert, & smot to Gij a dint ful smert Wiþ alle þe miȝt he gan welde, & hitt him on þe helme so briȝt, Þat alle þe stones of michel miȝt Fleyȝe doun in þe feld. Al of þe helme þe swerd out stint, & forþ riȝt wiþ þat selue dint Oþer half fot of þe scheld, Þat neuer was atamed ar þan For kniȝt no for no noþer man, No were he neuer so beld. ¶ Þe sadel bowe he clef atvo, Þe stedes nek he dede also, Wiþ his grimli brond. Wiþ-outen wemMS. when. or ani wounde Wele half a fot in-to þe grounde Þe scharp swerd it wond. Sir Gij to grounde fallen is, He stirt vp anon, y-wis, & loked, & gan wiþ-stond. Anon riȝt in þat ich stede To god almiȝten he bad his bede, & held vp boþe his hond. ¶ Sir Gij anon vp stirt As man þat was agremed in hert, Nouȝt wel long he lay. 'Lord,' seyd Gij, 'god al-miȝt, Þat made þe þerkenes to þe niȝt, So help me to-day. Scheld me fro þis geaunt strong, Þat y no deþ of him afong, Astow art lord verray. Þat dint,' he seyd, 'was iuel sett. Wele schal y com out of þi dett Ȝif þat I libbe may.' ¶ Gij hent his swerd, þat was ful kene, & smot Amoraunt wiþ hert tene A dint þat sat ful sore, Þat a quarter of his scheld He made to fleye in þe feld Al wiþ his grimli gore. Þe stedes nek he smot atvo, Amoraunt to grounde is fallen þo: Wo was him þerfore. Þan wer on fot þo kniȝtes bold: Fiȝt ofot ȝif þai wold. Her stedes þai han forlore. ¶ Amoraunt wiþ hert ful grim Smot to Gij, & Gij to him, Wiþ strokes stern & stiue. Hard þai hewe wiþ swerdes clere, Þat helme & swerd, þat strong were, Þai gun hem al to-driue. Hard fouȝten þo champiouns, Þat boþe plates & hauberiouns Þai gun to ret & riue, & laiden on wiþ dintes gret. Aiþer of hem so oþer gan bete, Þat wo was hem oliue. ¶ Sir Amoraunt was agreued strong, Þat o man stode him þo so long. To Gij a strok he rauȝt, & hit him on þe helme so briȝt, Þat al þe floures fel doun riȝt. Wiþ a ful grimly drauȝt Þe cercle of gold he carf ato, & forþ wiþ his dint also Þer bileued it nouȝt: On þe scheld þe swerd doun fel, And cleue it in-to haluendel, Almost to grounde him brouȝt. ¶ What wiþ þe swerdes out draweing, & wiþ his hetelich out braiding, Þer fel a wonder cas: Sir Gij fel on knes to grounde, & stirt vp in þat selue stounde, & seyd, 'lord ful of grace, Neuer dint of kniȝt non No miȝt me are knele don In no stede þer y was.' Sir Gij hent vp his swerd fot hot, Amoraunt on þe hod he smot, Þat he stumbled in þeþe þe MS. place. ¶ He hit him on þe helme an heyȝe, & wiþ þat dint þe swerd it fleyȝe: Bi þe nasel it gan doun founde, & so it dede bi þe ventayle, & carf it ato, saunfaile, & in-to his flesche a wounde. His targe wiþ gold list He carf atvo þurch help of Crist, He cleue þat ich stounde. So heteliche þe brond out he pliȝt, Þat Amoraunt anon riȝt Fel on knes to grounde. ¶ So strong batayle was hem bitvene: So seyd þai þat miȝt it sene Þat seye þai neuer non swiche, Þat neuer was of wiman born Swiche to kniȝtes as þai worn, Þat fouȝten togider wiþ wreche. On a day bifor þe natiuite Of seyn Ion, þe martir fre, Þat holy man is to seche, Togider fouȝt þo barouns boþe, Þat in hert wer so wroþe. Of loue was þer no speche. ¶ Sir Amoraunt wiþ-drouȝ him Wiþ loureand chere wroþ & grim, For þe blod of him was lete, Þat drink he most, oþer his liif forgon: So strong þrust ȝede him opon, So michel was his hete. 'Fourti batayls ichaue ouercome, Ac fond y neuer er moder sone Þat me so sore gan bete. Tel me,' he seyd, 'what artow? Felt y neuer man ar now Þat ȝaf dintes so grete. ¶ Tel me,' he seyd, 'wennes þou be; For þou art strong, so mot y the, & of michel miȝt.' Sir Gij answerd, 'wiþ-outen bost, Cristen icham, wele þou wost, Of Inglond born, y pliȝt. King Triamour me hider brouȝt For to defenden him, ȝif y mouȝt, Of þat michel vnriȝt Þat ȝe beren on him wiþ wouȝ, Þat Fabour neuer Sadony slouȝ Noiþer bi day no niȝt.' ¶ 'O, artow Inglis?' seyd Amorant. 'Now wald mi lord Teruagaunt Þat þou were Gij þe strong! Mahoun ȝaf þat þou wer he! Bliþe wald y þan be Batail of him to fong: For he haþ destrud al our lawe, His heued wald ichaue ful fawe, Or heiȝe on galwes hong; For keuer schal we neuerMS. neuer er more Þat he haþ don ous forlore Wiþ wel michel wrong. ¶ Wiþ michel wrong & michel wouȝ Fourti þousend of ous he slouȝ In Costentin on a day: He && added above the line. Herhaud, his felawe, Michel han destrud our lawe, Þat euer-more mon y may. Ȝif he wer slain wiþ brond of stiel Þan were y wroken on hemMS. him. ful wel Þat han destrud our lay.' Sir Gij answerd, 'whi seistow so? Haþ Gij ani þing þe misdo?' Amoraunt seyd, 'nay, ¶ Ac it wer gret worþschip, y-wis, To alle þe folk of heþenisse, Þat y hadde so wroken mi kende. Cristen,' he seyd, 'listen to me. Þe weder is hot, astow may se; Y pray þe, leue frende: Leue, to drink þou lat me gon For þe lordes loue þou leuest on, Astow art gode & hende. For þrist mi hert wil to-spring, & for hete, wiþ-outen lesing, Mi liue wil fro me wende. ¶ & ȝif y schal be þus aqueld Þurch strong hete in þe feld It were oȝain þe skille: Unworþschipe it war to þe, It were þe gret vilete In wat londAnother lond expunged. þou com tille. Ac lete me drink a litel wiȝt For þi lordes loue ful of miȝt Þat þou louest wiþ wille, & y þe hot bi mi lay, Ȝif þou haue ani þrest to-day, Þou shalt drink al þi fille.' ¶ Sir Gij answerd, 'y graunt þe, & ȝete to-day þou ȝeld it me Wiþ-outen ani fayle.' & when he hadde leue of sir Gij He was ful glad,ful struck out after glad. sikerli: No lenger nold he dayle. To þe riuer ful swiþe he ran, His helme of his heued he nam, & vnlaced his ventayle. When he hadde dronken alle his fille He stirt vp wiþ hert grille, & sir Gij began to asayle. ¶ 'Kniȝt,' he seyd, 'ȝeld þe biliue; For þou art giled, so mot y þriue. Now ichaue a drink,adrink MS. Icham as fresche as ich was amorwe: Þou schalt dye wiþ michel sorwe, For-soþe, wiþouten lesing.' Þan þai drowen her swerdes long, Þo kniȝtes þat wer stern & strong, Wiþ-outen more dueling, & aiþer gan oþer þer asayle; & þer bi-gan a strong bataile Wiþ wel strong fiȝting. ¶ Amoraunt was ful egre of mode, & smot to Gij as he wer wode (Ful egre he was to fiȝt), Þat a quarter of his scheld He made it fleye into the feld, And ofRead on? his brini briȝt: Of his scholder þe swerd glod doun, Þat boþe plates & hauberioun He carf atvo, y pliȝt, Al to þe naked hide, y-wis, & nouȝt of flesche atamed is Þurch grace of god almiȝt. ¶ Þe scharp swerd doun gan glide Fast bi sir Gyes side (His knew it com ful neye), Þat gambisoun & iambler Boþe it karf atvo y-fere: Into þerþe þe swerd it fleyeMS. originally fleyee Wiþ-outen wem or ani wounde Half a fot in-to þe grounde, Þat mani man it seye. & when Gij seye þat fair grace, Þat noþing wounded he was, Iesu he þanked on heye. ¶ & when Gij feld him so smite He was wroþ, ȝe mow wite: To Amoraunt he gan reken. He hent his brond wiþ wel gode wille, & stroke to him wiþ hert grille: His scheld he gan to-breken. So hetelich Gij him smot, Þat into þe scholder half a fot Þe gode swerd gan reken; & wiþ þat strok Gij wiþ-drouȝ: Weri he was forfouȝten y-nouȝ; To Amoraunt he gan speken. ¶ 'Sir Amoraunt,' þan seyd Gij, 'For godes loue now merci, Ȝif that þi wille be. Ichaue swiche þrist þer y stond, Y may vnneþe drawe min hond; Þerfore wel wo is me. Ȝeld me now þat ich dede: Y ȝaf þe leue to drink at nede. Astow art hende & fre, Leue, to drink þou lat me go, As it was couenaunt bitven ous tvo: For loue y pray þe.' ¶ 'Hold þi pes,' seyd Amoraunt, 'For, bi mi lord sir Teruagaunt, Leue no hastow non. Ac now þat y þe soþe se, Þat þou ginnes to feynt þe, Þine heued þou schalt forgon.' 'Amoraunt,' seyd Gij,gij added in the margin. 'do ariȝt: Lete me drink a litel wiȝt As y dede þe anon, & togider fiȝt we: Who schal be maister we schal se, Wiche of ous may oþer slon.' ¶ 'Hold þi pays,' seyd Amoraunt, 'Y nil nouȝt held þe couenaunt For ful þis toun of gold; For when ichaue þe sleyn now riȝt Þe Soudan, treweli, haþ me hiȝt His lond ȝif me he schold Euermore to haue & hold fre, & ȝiue me his douȝter briȝt o ble, Þe miriest may on mold: When ichaue þe sleyn þis day He schal ȝiue me þat fair may Wiþ alle his lond to hold. ¶ Ac do now wele & vnarme þe, & trewelich ȝeld þou þe to me: Oliue y lat þe gon. & ȝif þou wilt nouȝt do bi mi red Þou schalt dye on iuel ded: Riȝt now y schal þe slon.' 'Nay,' seyd Gij, 'þat war no lawe: Ich hadde leuer to ben to-drawe Þan swiche a dede to don. Ar ich wald creaunt ȝeld me Ich hadde leuer an-hanged be, & brent boþe flesche & bon.' ¶ Þan seyd Amoraunt, 'at a word, Bi þe treuþe þou owe þi lord, Þat þou louest so dere, Tel me what þi name it be, & leue to drink ȝiue y þe Þi fille of þis riuer. Þou seyd þi name is sir Youn: It is nouȝt so, bi seyn Mahoun, It is a lesing, fere. Ȝif þi name were Youn riȝt Þou nere nouȝt of so miche miȝt, No þus vnbiknowen here.' ¶ 'Frende,' seyd Gij, 'y schal telle þe: Astow art hendi man & fre, Þou wray me to no wiȝt. Gij of Warwike mi name it is: In Inglond y was born, y-wis. Lete me now drink wiþ riȝt.' When Amoraunt seye, sikerly, Þat it was þe gode Gij Þat oȝaines him was diȝt, He loked on him wiþ michel wrake Sternliche wiþ his eyȝen blake, Wiþ an vnsemli siȝt. ¶ 'Sir Gij,' he seyd, 'welcom to me! Mahoun, mi lord, y thank þe Þat ich haue þe her-inne. Michel schame þou hast me don: Þi liif þou schalt astite forgon, Þi bodi schal atvinne, & þine heued, bi Teruagaunt, Mi leman schal haue to presaunt, Þat comly is of kinne. Hennes-forward, siker þou be, Leue no tit þe non of me, For al þis warld to winne.' ¶ 'Allas,' seyd Gij, 'what schal y don? Now y no may haue drink non Mine hert brekeþ ato.' Anon he biþouȝt him þenne Riȝt to þe riuer he most renne: He turned him, & gan to go. Amoraunt wiþ swerd on hond He thouȝt haue driuen Gij to schond: Wiþ sorwe he wald him slo. Gij ran to þe water riȝt: Bot on him þenke god almiȝt Vp comeþ he neuer mo. ¶ Þo was sir Gij in gret drede. In þe water he stode to his girdel stede, & þat þouȝt him ful gode. In þe water he dept his heued anon, Ouer þe schulders he dede it gon; Þat keled wele his blod. & when Gij hadde dronken anouȝ Hetelich his heued vp he drouȝ Out of þat ich flod; & Amoraunt stode opon þe lond With a drawen swerd in hond, & smot Gij þer he stode. ¶ Hetelich he smot Gyoun: Into þat water he fel adoun Wiþ þat dint vnride, Þat þe water arn him about. Sir Gij stirt vp in gret dout: For noþing he nold abide, & schoke his heued as kniȝt bold. 'In þis water icham ful cold Wombe, rigge, & side, & no leue, sir, ich hadde of þe, & þer-fore haue þo[u] miche maugre, & iuel þe mot bi-tide.' ¶ Sir Gij stirt vp, wiþouten fayl, & Amoraunt he gan to asayl: To fiȝt he was ful boun. Hard togider þai gan to fiȝt: Of loue was þer no speche, y pliȝt, Bot heweing wiþ swerdes broun. 'Amoraunt,' þan seyd Gij, 'Þou art ful fals, sikerly, & ful-filt of tresoun. No more wil y trust to þe For no bihest þou hotest me: Þou art a fals glotoun.' ¶ Hard togider þai gun fiȝt: Fro þe morwe to þe niȝt Þat long somers day, So long þai fouȝten boþe þo. Wiche was þe better of hem to Noman chese no may. Bot at a strok as Amoraunt cast, Sir Gij mett wiþ him in hast, & tauȝt him a sori play: Þe riȝt arme wiþ þe swerd for hot Bi þe scholder of he it smot, To grounde it fleye oway. ¶ When Amoraunt feld him to smite In his left hond wiþ michel hete Þe swerd he hent fot hot: As a lyoun þan ferd he, Þritti sautes he made & þre Wiþ his swerd, þat wel bot; Bot for þe blod þat of him ran Amoraunt strengþe slake bigan. When Gij þat soþ wot, Þat Amoraunt wasMS. was gin. faynting, Sir Gij him folwed wiþouten dueling: Þat oþer hond of he smot. ¶ When Amoraunt had boþe hondes forlore A wreche he held him-self þerfore: His wit was alto-dreued. On sir Gij he lepe wiþ alle his miȝt, Þat almast he had feld him doun riȝt, & sir Gij was agreued, & stirt bisiden fot hot, & Amoraunt in þe nek he smot: His miȝt he haþ him bireued. He fel to grounde, wiþouten faile, & sir Gij vnlaced his ventayle, & he strok of his heued. ¶ Ouer þe water he went in a bot, & present þer-wiþ fot hot Þe king, sir Triamour. Þe king, sir Triamour, þan Went to þat riche Soudan, & also his sone Fabour. Þan waswas added under the line. þe Soudan swiþe wo: Quite-claim he lete hem go Wiþ wel michel honour. Into Alisaunder þai went, þat cite, & ladde wiþ hem sir Gij þe fre, Þat hadde ben her socour. ¶ Þe king tok þerl Ionas þo, & clept him in his armes to, & kist him swete, ich wene, An hundred times & ȝete mo, & quite-claim he lete him go & his sones fiftene. 'Erl Ionas,' seyd þe king, 'Herken now to my teling, & what ichil mene: For mi liif þou sauedest me, Half mi lond ich graunt þe Wiþ þis kniȝt strong & kene. ¶ Vnderstond to me, sir kniȝt: Mahoun ȝaue ful of miȝt Þou wost duelle wiþ me! Þridde part mi lond y ȝiue þe to: Michel honour ichil þe do, A riche prince make þe. Y nil nouȝt þouþou added over the line. forsake god þine: Þou art bileueand wele afine Better may no be.' Sir Gij answerd him ful stille, 'Sir, of þi lond nouȝt y nille, For-soþe y telle þe.' ¶ Þat erl to Ierusalem went anon, Gij of Warwike wiþ him gan gon & alle his sones on rawe. Þerl wold ȝif he miȝt Wite þe name of þat kniȝt, Ȝif he him euer-more sawe. In conseyl, 'sir kniȝt,' þan seyd he, 'Þat þou Youn dost clep þe, Þou no hatest nouȝt so, y trowe. For Iesu loue y pray þe, Þat died on þe rode tre, Þi riȝt name be aknawe.' ¶ Sir Gij seyd, 'þou schalt now here, Seþþen þou frainest me in þis maner: Mi name ichil þe sayn. Gij of Warwike mi name is riȝt. Astow art hende & gentil kniȝt, To non þou schalt me wrayn. Batayl for þi loue y nam, & þe geaunt ouer-cam; Þerof icham ful fain.' When þerl seye it was sir Gij He fel doun on knes him bi, & wepe wiþ boþ his ayn. ¶ 'For godes loue,' he seyd, 'merci! Whi artow so pouer, sir Gij, & art of so gret valour? Here ich ȝiue þe in þis place Al þerldam of Durras, Cite & castel tour: Þi man ichil bicomen & be, & alle mi sones forþ wiþ me Schal com to þi socour; For þe priis of heþen lond Þou hast þurch douhtines of hond Wonne wiþ gret vigour.' ¶ 'Erl Ionas,' þan seyd sir Gij, 'Mi leue frende, gramerci For þi gode wille! Þan schustow hire me al to dere To ȝiue me þi lond in swiche manere; Þer-of nouȝt y nille. To ȝour owen cuntre wendeþ hom: God biteche y ȝou euerichon. Mi way ichil ful-fille.' Þan went & kist him eueri man: Þerl so sore wepe bigan, Þat miȝt him no man stille. ¶ Þerl to Durras went anon & his sones euerichon, Were scaped out of care. Gij þan in his way is nome: For þat þe geaunt was ouer-come, Ful bliþe þan was he þare. Into Grece þan went he, & souȝt halwen of þat cuntre, Þe best þat þer ware. Seþþe forþ in his way he ȝede Þurch-out mani vncouþe þede: To Costentyn he is y-fare.[Cf. Reinbroun 1-31] ¶ When Gij in Costentin hadde be Out of þat lond þan went he, Walkand in þe strete On pilgrimage in his iurnay, His bedes bidand niȝt & day, His sinnes for to bete. In Almaine þan went he, y-wis, Þer he was sumtime holden of gret pris. He com to a four way lete Biȝonde Espire, þat riche cite: Under a croice, was maked of tre, A pilgrim he gan mete, ¶ Þat wrong his honden, & wepe sore, & curssed þe time þat he was bore: 'Allas,' it was his song. 'Wayleway,' he seyd, 'that stounde! Wickedliche icham brouȝt to grounde Wiþ wel michel wrong.' Sir Gij went to him þo: 'Man,' he seys, 'whi farstow so? So god ȝeue þe ioie to fong, Tel me what þi name it be, & whi þou makest þus gret pite: Meþenke þi paynes strong.' 'Godeman,' seyd þe pilgrim þo, 'What hastow to frein me so? Swiche sorwe icham in souȝt, Þat, þei y told þe alle mi care, For þe miȝt y neuer þe better fare: To grounde icham so brouȝt.' 'Ȝis,' seyd Gij, 'bi þe gode rode, Conseyl y can ȝiue þe gode, & tow telle me þi þouȝt; For oft it falleþ vncouþe man Þat gode conseyle ȝiue can. Þerfore hele it nouȝt.' ¶ 'For god,' he seyd, 'þou seyst ful wel. Sumtime ich was, by seyn Miȝhel, An erl of gret pouste. Þurch al cristendom, y-wis, Ich was teld a man of gret pris & of gret bounte, & now icham a wroche beggare: No wonder þei icham ful of care. Allas, wel wo is me!' For sorwe he miȝt speke na more: He gan to wepe swiþe sare, Þat Gij hadde of him pite. ¶ Þan seyd þe pilgrim, 'þou hast gret wrongwrong added above the line. To frain me of mi sorwe strong, & miȝt noȝt bete mi nede. To begge mi brede y mot gon: Seþþen ȝistay at none ete y non, Also god me rede.' 'Ȝis, felawe,' quaþ Gij, 'hele it nauȝt. Telle me whi þou art in sorwe brauȝt: Þe better þou schalt spede; & seþþen we schul go seche our mete. Ichaue a pani of old biȝete: Þou schalt haue half to mede.' ¶ 'Gramerci, sir,' þan seyd he; '& alle þe soþ y schal telle þe. Erl Tirri is mi name, Of Gormoys þerls sone Aubri. Ich hadde a felawe þat hiȝt Gij, A baroun of gode fame. For þe douk of Paui sir Otoun Hadde don him oft gret tresoun, He slouȝ him wiþ gret grame. Now is his neue þemperour steward, His soster sone, þat hat Berard: He has me don alle þis schame. ¶ Þemperour he haþ serued long. For he is wonderliche strong & of michel miȝt, He no comeþ in non batayle Þat he no haþ þe maistri, saunfayl: So egre he is to fiȝt. In þis warld is man non Þat oȝaines him durst gon, Herl, baroun, no kniȝt, & he loked on him wiþ wrake, Þat his hert no miȝt quake: So stern he is of siȝt. ¶ & for his scherewdhed sir Berard Þemperour haþ made him his steward, To wardi his lond about. Þer nis no douk in al þis lond Þat his hest dar wiþ-stonde: So michel he isis altered from it. dout. Ȝif a man be loued wiþ him, Be he neuer so pouer offor struck out before of. kin, & he wil to him lout, He makeþ hem riche anon riȝt, Douk, erl, baroun, or kniȝt, To held wiþ him gret rout. ¶ & ȝif a man wiþ him hated be, Be he neuer so riche of fe, He flemeþ himhis lond ex|punged after him. out of lond: Anon he schal ben to-drawe, Als tite he schal ben y-slawe, & driuen him al to schond. So it bifel, our emperour Held a parlement of gret honour: For his erls hehe altered from hen. sent his sond. YY altered from þai. come þider wiþ michel prede Wiþ an hundred kniȝtes bi mi side, At nede wiþ me to stonde. ¶ & when y come vnto þe court Þe steward, þe wicked pourt, To me he gan to reke: He bicleped me of his emes ded, & seyd he was sleyn þurch mi red: On me he wald be wreke. &, when ich herd þat chesoun Of þe doukes deþ Otoun,of toun MS. Mine hert wald to-breke. To þemperour y layd mi wedde an heiȝe To defende me of þat felonie Þat he to me gan speke. ¶ No wonder þei y war fordredde. Þemperour tok boþe our wedde, As y þe telle may. For in alle þe court was þer no wiȝt, Douk, erl, baroun, no kniȝt, Þat durst me borwe þat day, Þemperour comand anon Into his prisoun y schuld be don Wiþ-outen more delay. BerardBernard originally. went, & sesed mi lond; Mine wiif he wald haue driuen to schond: Wiþ sorwe sche fled oway. ¶ Þan was ich wiþ sorwe & care Among min fomen nomen þare, & don in strong prisoun. Min frendes token hem to rede, To þemperour þai bisouȝt & bede To pay for me ransoun. Þemperour & sir Berard Deliuerd me bi a forward & bi þis enchesoun, Y schuld seche mi felawe Gij, To defende ous of þat felonie Of þe doukes deþ Otoun.of toun MS. ¶ Out of þis lond went y me, & passed ouer þe salt se: In Inglond y gan riue. At Warwike ichim souȝt: When y com þider y fond him nouȝt (Wo was me oliue), No sir Herhaud fond y nouȝt tare: To seche Gyes sone he is fare, Þat was stollen wiþ striue. Þerfore y wot þat Gij is ded: For sorwe can y me no red; Mine hert wil breke o fiue.' Sir Gij biheld Tirri ful riȝt, Þat whilom was so noble a kniȝt, & lord of michel mounde. His bodi, was sumtim wele y-schredde, Almost naked it was bihedde, Wiþ sorwe & care ful bounde. His legges, þat wer sumtime hosed wel, To-brosten he seiȝe hem eueridel. 'Allas,' seyd Gij, 'þat stonde.' For sorwe þat he hadde þo Word miȝt he speke no mo, Bot fel aswon to grounde. ¶ Sir Tirri anon com to him þan, & in his armes vp him nam, & cleped opon him þare. 'Man,' he said, 'what aileþ þe? Þou art iuel at aise, so þenkeþ me. Hard it is þi fare.' Sir Gij answerd þer-after long, 'Þis iuel greueþ me so strong, In erþe y wold y ware; For, seþþen þat y was first man, Nas neuer sorwe on me cam Þat greued me so sare.' ¶ Þan seyd Tirri, 'felawe, y-wis, To-day a ȝer gon it is Out of þis lond y went To seche Gij, mi gode frende, Y no finde nouȝt fer no hende:hende altered from hente. Þerfore icham al schent; For now it is teld me our emperer Haþ taken a parlement of þis maner For mi loue, verrament, Þat douk no erl in his lond be, Þat he no schal be at þat semble, For to here mi iugement. ¶ & now no lenge abide y no may, Þat ne me bi-houeþ hom þis day, Oþer for to lese min hed.heued MS. Þemperour ichaue mi treuþeThe u of treuthe added above the line. y-pliȝt, Y schal bring sir Gij to-niȝt To fiȝt oȝain þat qued, To fende ous of þat felonie Oȝain þe douke Berard of Paui Al of his emes ded.ded altered from dede. Y wot wele, ȝif y þider fare, Þai schal me sle wiþ sorwe & care: Certes, y can no red.' Gij biheld Tirri wiþ wepeand eiȝe, & seiȝe him al þat sorwe dreiȝe, Þat was him lef & dere: 'Allas,' þouȝt Gij, 'þat ich stounde Þat Tirri is þus brouȝt to grounde! So gode felawes we were.' He þouȝt, 'miȝt y mete þat douke, His heued y schuld smite fro þe bouke, Or hong him bi þe swere. Y no lete for al þis warldes won Þat y no schuld þe traitour slon, To wreke Tirri, mi fere. ¶ Tirri,' seyd Gij, 'lat be þi þouȝt: Y-wis, it helpeþ þe riȝt nouȝt, For sorwe it wil þe schende. To court go we boþe y-fere: Gode tidinges we schul þer here; Swiche grace god may sende. Haue gode hert, dred þe no del; For god schal help þe ful wel: So curteys he is & hende.' Up risen þo kniȝtes tvo Wiþ michel care & ful of wo: To court ward þai gan wende. ¶ & as þai went þo kniȝtes fre To court ward in her iurne Ful bold þai were & ȝepe. 'Allas,' sir Tirri seyd þo, 'Ich mot rest er ich hennes go, Or mi liif wil fro me lepe.' 'For god, felawe,' þan seyd Gij, 'Ly doun, & y schal sitt þe bi, & feir þine heued vp kepe.' & when he hadde þus y-seyd On Gyes barm his heued he leyd: Anon Tirri gan slepe. ¶ & when sir Tirri was fallen on slepe Sir Gij biheld him, & gan to wepe, & gret morning gan make. Þan seiȝe he an ermine com of his mouþe Als swift als winde, þat bloweþ on clouþe, As white as lilii on lake. To an hille he ran wiþouten obade: At þe hole of þe roche in he glade. Gij wonderd for þat sake. & when he out of þat roche cam Into Tirries mouþe he nam: Anon Tirri gan wake. ¶ Sir Gij was wonderd of þat siȝt, & Tirri sat vp anon riȝt, & biheld Gij opon. Þan seyd Tirri, 'fader of heuen! Sir pilgrim, swiche a wonder sweuen Me met now anon, Þat to ȝon hille þat stont on heiȝe, Þat þou may se wiþ þi neiȝe, Me þouȝt þat yþou MS. was gon, & at an hole in y wond, & so riche tresour as y fond Y trow in þis world is non. ¶ Biside þat tresour lay a dragoun, & þer-on lay a swerd broun, Þe sckauberk comly corn: In þe hilt was mani precious ston, As briȝt as ani sonne it schon, Wiþ-outen oþ y-sworn. & me þouȝt Gij sat at min heued, & in his lappe me biweued Astow destdost MS. me biforn. Lord, merci, & it wer so Wele were me þan bi-go, Þat euer ȝete was y born.' ¶ 'Now, felawe,' seyd Gij, 'bi mi leute, Þat s[w]euen wil turn gret ioie to þe, & wele y schal it rede: Þurch Gij þou schalt þi lond keuer. Trust wele to god, þei þou be pouer: Þe better þou schalt spede. To þe hulle nim we þe way, Þer þe þouȝt þe tresour lay, & in þou schalt me lede. Now god, þat schope al mankinde, Wald we miȝt þat tresour finde: It wald help ous at nede.' ¶ Vp risen þo kniȝtes tvay, & to þe hille þai nom þe way, & in þai went ful euen, & founde þe tresour, & þe dragoun, & þe swerd of stiel broun, As Tirri met in his sweuen. Sir Gijadded above the line. drouȝ out þat swerd anon, & alle þe pleynes þer-of it schon, As it were liȝt of leuen. 'Lord,' seyd Gij, 'y þanke þi sond: Y seiȝe neuer are swiche a brond; Y wot it com fram heuen.' ¶ Sir Gij gan þe hilt bi-hold, Þat richeliche was grauen wiþ gold, Of charbukel þe pomel. Into þe sckaweberk oȝain he itit added above the line. dede, & seyd to Tirri in þat stede, 'Bi god & seyn Miȝhel, Of alle þis riche tresore Y no kepe þerof no more, Bot þis brond of stiel.'Three lines are wanting. ¶ To courtward þo kniȝtes went: To aspie after þe parlement For drede wald þai nouȝt lete. Ac Tirri was aferd ful sare Of his fomen be knowen þare, In þe cite ȝif he sete; Þerfore þai toke her ostel gode At an hous wiþouten þe toun stode Al bi a dern strete. Of al niȝt Gij slepe nouȝt: So michel his hert was euer in þouȝt Wiþ douk Berard to mete. ¶ Erlich amorwe þan ros Gij, & bisouȝt god & our leuedi He schuld scheld him fro blame, & seyd to sir Tirri þe hende, 'Kepe me wele þis swerd, leue frende, Til y sende þer-fore, bi name, & y schal go to court þis day, & ȝif y þe douke mete may Y schal gret him wiþ grame, & ȝif he say ouȝt bot gode Bi him þat schadde for ous his blod, Him tit a warld schame.' ¶ Gij goþ to toun wiþ michel hete: Þemperour fram chirche he gan mete, & gret him wiþ anour. 'Lord,' seyd Gij, 'þat wiþ hond Made wode, water, & lond, Saue þe, sir emperour. Icham a man of fer cuntre, & of þi gode par charite Ich axse to mi socour.' Þemperour seyd, 'to court come, & of mi gode þou schalt haue some For loue of seyn sauour.' ¶ To court þai went al & some. Þemperour dede Gijadded above the line. biforn him come: 'Pilgrim,' þan seyd he, 'Þou art wel weri meþenkeþ now: Fram wiche londes comestow? For þi fader soule, telle me.' 'Sir,' seydadded above the line. Gij, 'ich vnderstond, Ichaue ben in mani lond Biȝond þe Grekis se: In Ierusalem & in Surry, In Costentin & in Perci A gode while haue ich be.' ¶ 'Sir pilgrim,' seyd þemperour fre, 'What spekeþ man in þat lond of me When þou com þennes ward?' Sir Gij answerd, 'bi þe gode rode, Men spekeþ þe þer ful litel gode, Bot tidinges schrewed & hard; For þou hast schent so þerl Tirri & oþer barouns, þat ben hendy, For loue of þi steward. Gret sinne it is to þe To stroye so þi barouns fre Al for a fals schreward.' ¶ When þe douk herd him speke so, As a wilde bore he lepe him to, His costes for to schawe. Wiþ his fest he wald haue smiten Gij, Bot barouns held him owy Wele tventi on a rawe. He seyd to Gij, 'vile traitour, Ner þou bifor þemperour, Þei y wende to ben to-hewe, Bi thi berd y schuld þe schokke, Þat al þi teþPart of the þ gone. it schuld rokke; For þou artrt rather in|distinct. a kinde schrewe. ¶ Bi þi semblaunt se men may Þou hast ben traitour mani a day: God ȝif þe schame & schond. Ȝif þat y þe mai ouergon, To wicked ded þou schalt be don, As a traitour to ly in bond: In swiche a stede þou schalt be, Þis seuen winterAn erasure after winter. no schaltow se NoiþerThe i added above the line. fet no hond. So schal men chasti foule glotuns Þat wil missay gode barouns Þat lordinges ben in lond.' ¶ 'Ow sir,' seyd Gij, 'ertow þasRead Þes: wes? Y nist no nar hohou MS. it was, Bi þe gode rode, & now y wot þat þou art he: Þou art vncurteys, so þenkeþ me. Þou farst astow wer wode, & art a man of fair parage: Y-com þou art of heiȝe linage & of gentil blod. It is þe litel curteysie To do me swiche vilanie Bifor þemperour þer y stode. ¶ & for þe wil y wond no-þing: Y schal telle þe þe soþe wiþouten lesing Bifor his barouns ichon, Þat wiþ gret wrong & sinne, ywis, Þerl Tirri deshirrite is & oþer gode mani on. A þousend men ichaue herd teld Boþe in toun & in feld, As wide as ichaue gon, Þat he is giltles of þat dede: Þou berst on him wiþ falshede Þi neme he schuld slon.' ¶ Þe douk Berra[r]d was wroþ, Bi Iesu Crist he swore his oþ, 'Y wald þat þou were Gij, Or þat þou so douhti were Þou durst fiȝt for him here: God ȝaf it & our leuedi!' Sir GijAdded above the line. answerd, 'bi seyn sauour, Drede þe noþing, vile traitour: Þerto icham redy. Bi þou wroþ, be þou gladde, To þemperour y ȝif mi wedde To fiȝt for þerl Tirri.' ¶ Þe douk Berard þer he stode Stared on Gij as he wer wode, & egrelich seyd his þouȝt. 'Pilgrim,' he seyd, 'þou art ful stout: Y-wis, þi wordes þat er so prout Schal be ful dere abouȝt. Y warn þe wele,' he seyd þo, 'Þat þine heued þou schalt forgo, Where so þou may be souȝt.' Sir Gij seyd, 'þan þou it hast, Þan make þer-of þi bast; For ȝete no getes þou it nouȝt.' ¶ Bifor þemperour þan come Gij, & seyd, 'sir Berard of Paui Is a man of miȝti dede, & fram fer cuntres comen icham, & am a sely pouer man: Y no haue here no sibbered, No y no haue wepen no armour briȝt. For þe loue of god al-miȝt, Finde me armour & stede.' Þemperour answerd, 'bi Iesu, Pilgrim, þou schalt haue anow Of al þat þe is nede.' ¶ Þe douk Berra[r]d þennes he went: His hert was in strong turment, He no wist what he do miȝt. Þemperour cleped his douhter, a maydeamayde MS.: 'Leue douhter,' to hir he seyd, 'Kepe þis pilgrim to-niȝt.' Sche him vnderfenge ful mildeliche, & dede baþe him ful softliche: In silke sche wald him diȝt, Ac þerof was no-þing his þouȝt, Bot of gode armour he hir bisouȝt, Wiþ þe douke Berard to fiȝt. ¶ Amorwe aros þat emperour: Erls, barouns of gret honour To chirche wiþ him þai ȝede, & when þe barouns asembled was Þan miȝt men sen in þat plas To-gider a fair ferred. Þider com þe douk Berard Prout & stern as a lipard,alipard MS. Wele y-armed on stede, & priked riȝt as he wer wode Among þe barouns þer þai stode, Batayle for to bede. ¶ Þe maiden forȝat neuer a del, Þe pilgrim was armed ful wel Wiþ a gode glaiue in honde, & a swift ernand stede Al wrin sche dede him lede, Þe best of þat lond. Þan sir Gij him bi-þouȝt, Þe gode swerd forȝat he nouȝt Þat he in tresour fond. He sent þerafter priueliche (Noman wist litel no miche), & Tirri sent him þe brond. ¶ When þat mayden hadde graiþed Gij, Wele y-diȝt & ful richely, Men gan on him biheld. Sche ledde him forþ swiþe stille To þemperour wiþ gode wille: Sche tauȝt him for to weld. Þan seyd þemperour hende & fre, 'Lordinges, listen now to me, Boþe ȝong & eld. Þis kniȝt, þat ȝe se now here, Haþ taken batail in strong maner, Al for to fiȝt in feld. ¶ Þis kniȝt,' he seyd, 'þat ston[t] me bi, Wil fiȝt for þerl sir Tirri (For no þing wil he wond), & defende him of þat felonie Oȝain þe douk Berard of Paui Þat he berþ him an hond; For Tirri is out of lond went To seche Gij, verrament, Þat for him miȝt stond (Þis day is sett bitven hem tvo), Or be deshirrite for euer-mo, & flemed out of lond. ¶ Bot now is comen here þis kniȝt, Oȝain Berard haþ taken þe fiȝt: For no þing wil he flen. Ac, lordinges,' he seyd, 'euerichon, Where the batayl schal be don Loke, where it may best ben.' Þan loked þai it schuld be In a launde vnder þe cite. Þider in þai went bi-den: Mani man bad god þat day Help þe pilgrim, as he wele may, Þe douk Berard to slen. ¶ On hors lopen þo kniȝtes prest, & lopen to-gider til schaftes brest, Þat strong weren & trewe, & her gerþes brusten, þat strong were, & þo kniȝtes boþe y-fere Out of her sadels þrewe. After þai drouȝ her swerdes gode, & leyd on as þai were wode, Þat were gode & newe; & astow sest þe fir on flint Þe stem out of her helmes stint So hetelich þai gun hewe. ¶ Wele wer armed þo kniȝtes stout, Bot he had more yren him about Þat fals Berardine: Tvay hauberkes he was in weued, & tvay helmes opon his heued, Was wrouȝt in Sarazine. Opon his schulder henge a duble scheld (BetterBerter MS. miȝt non be born in feld), A gode swerd of stiel fine: Mani man þerwiþ his liif had lorn. It was sumtim þer-biforn Þe kinges Costentine. ¶ Strong batayl held þo kniȝtes bold, Þat alle þat euer gan hem bihold Þai seyden hem among Þe pilgrim was non erþely man; It was an angel, from heuen cam For Tirri batayle to fong: 'For mani gode erle & mani baroun Berard haþ y-brouȝt adoun Wiþ wel michel wrong, Þer-fore haþ God sent, y-wis, An angel out of heuen blis To sle þat traitour strong.' ¶ Al þe folk in þat cite was, Litel & michel, more & las, To se þe batayl þai ȝede; Bot Tirri in a chirche liis, & euer he bisouȝt god, y-wis, He schuld him help & spede. When he herd telle [þat a] pilgrim Fauȝt oȝain þe douke Berardin, To help him at his nede, Wel fain he wald þider gon, Bot for knoweing of his fon: Wel sore he gan him drede. ¶ Ac naþeles he ros vp þo Wiþ michel care & michel wo, & þider he went wel swiþe. When he com to þe plas Þer þe bataile loked was, Amonges hem he gan liþe, &, when he seyȝe the douk so strong & his armes to-hewe among, In his hert he was ful bliþe, &, þo he seyȝe his blod spille, God he þonked wiþ gode wille.A line is here omitted in the MS. ¶ 'Lord, merci!' Tirri gan say: 'Þis is nouȝt þe pilgrim y met ȝisterdayȝist blotted. Þat is so richeliche diȝt. He was a feble pouer body, Sely, messays, & hungri; & he is of michel miȝt. Y trow non erþelich man it be. On Gij y þenke when ichim se: So douhti he was in fiȝt. Ȝif Gij, mi felawe, nouȝtnow MS. ded nere, Ich wald sigge þat he it were: So liche þai ben of siȝt.' ¶ Into chirche oȝain he ȝede, & fel on knes in þat stede, & Iesus Crist he bi-souȝt He schuld help þe pilgrim Þat fauȝt oȝain douk Berardin, Þat miche wo haþ him wrouȝt. Hard togider gun þai fiȝt Fro the morwe to þe niȝt, Þat þai rest hem nouȝt; & when hem failed liȝt of day Þai couþe no rede what þai do may: To þemperour þai hem brouȝt. ¶ 'Sir emperour,' þai seyd anon, 'What schul we wiþ þis kniȝtes don? At þi wille schal it be.' Þemperour clept to him þo Four barouns þat his trust was to. 'Lordinges,' þan seyd he, 'Kepe me wele þe douk Berard, & bring him tomorwe bi a forward, Opon al ȝour fe. & y schal kepe þe pilgrim to-niȝt: Til tomorwe þat it is day liȝt He schal bileue wiþ me.' Þan departed þis batayle: Þo four barouns, wiþ-outen fayl, Vnder-stode Berard to kepe, & þemperour toke þe pilgrim, In a chaumber to loken him Wiþ seriaunce wise & ȝepe. Þe douke Berard for-ȝat him nouȝt, Of a foule tresoun he him bi-þouȝt: Four kniȝtes he gan clepe. 'F[or]blotted. mi loue,' he seyd, 'goþ to-niȝt Þ[er]blotted. þe pilgrim liþ ful riȝt, & sleþ him in his slepe.' ¶ Þai armed hem swiþe wel Boþe in iren & in stiel, & went hem forþ in hast. Into þe chaumber þai went anon: Þe pilgrims kepers euerichon Lay & slepe full fast. To þe pilgrim þai went ful riȝt, & left vp þe bedde wiþ her miȝt, Þo four traitours vnwrast: To þe se þai beren him, & boþe bed & þe pilgrim Into þe see þai cast. ¶ To sir Berard þai went anon, & teld him hou þai hadden don; Þerof he was ful fawe. 'Sir,' þai seyd, 'be nouȝt adred: Boþe þe pilgrim & þe bed, Into þe se we han y-þrawe.' Þe pilgrim waked, & loked an heyȝe: Þe sterres on þe heuen he seiȝe, Þe water about him drawe. Þei he was ferd no wonder it nis: Non oþer þing he no seyȝe, y-wis, Bot winde & wateres wawe. ¶ 'Lord,' seyd Gij, 'god almiȝt, Þat winde, & water, & al þing diȝt, On me haue now pite! Whi is me fallen þus strong cumbring? & y no fiȝt for to win no þing, Noiþer gold no fe, For no cite no no castel, Bot for mi felawe y loued so wel, Þat was of gret bounte. For he was sumtyim so douhti, & now he is so pouer a bodi, Certes, it reweþ me.' Now herkeneþ a litel striif, Hou he saued þe pilgrims liif Iesu, þat sitt in trone, Wiþ a fischer þat was comand, In þe se fische takeand Bi himself al-on. He seþ þat bed floter him by: 'On godes half,' he gan to cri, 'What artow? say me son.' Þe pilgrim his heued vp pliȝt, & crid to him anon riȝt, & made wel reweli mon. ¶ 'Gode man,' þan seyd he, 'Y leue on god in trinite: Þe soþe þou schalt now sen. Vnderstode þou ouȝt of þe batayl hard Bitven þe pilgrim & sir Berard, Hou þai fouȝten bitven?' Þe fischer seyd, 'y seiȝe þe fiȝt Fro þe morwe to þe niȝt: For noþing wald þai flen. Þemperour comand þo Þai schuld be kept boþe tvo, Tomorwe bring hem oȝen.' ¶ 'Icham,' he seyd, 'þe pilgrim Þat fauȝt wiþThe þ of wiþ added above the line. þe douke Berardin For Tirri, þe hendi kniȝt. Ȝistreuen we wer deled ato; In a chaumber y was do Wiþ seriaunce wise & wiȝt: Hou ich com her no wot y nouȝt. For his loue þat þis warld haþ wrouȝt, Saue me ȝif þou miȝt.' Þe fischer tok him into his bot anon, & to his hous he ladde him hom, & saued his liif þat niȝt. ¶ Þemperour ros amorwe, y-wis, & atat altered from atte. þe chirche he herd his messe In þe first tide of þe day, & into his halle he gan gon, & after þe steward he axed anon & þe pilgrim wiþ-outen delay. Þe four barouns forȝat hem nouȝt, Þe douke Berard þai han forþ brouȝt Redy armed to play; & þe pilgrims kepers com euerichon, & seyd to þemperour, bi seyn Ion, Þe pilgrim was oway. ¶ Þemperour was wel wroþ: Bi his fader soule he sworeThe s of swore added above the line. his oþ, Þai schuld ben hang & drawe. 'For godes loue,' he seyd, 'merci! Þis douke Berard of Paui Haþ him brouȝt o dawe.' Þemperour seyd, 'bi seyn Martin, Hastow don þis fals, Berardin, · To don þe pilgrim slawe? Ȝeld him deþes or liues to me, Or in mi court demp[t] þou schalt be Þurch iugement of lawe.' ¶ Þe douke Berard wex wroþ & wo; Þemperour he answerd þo Wiþ wel michel hete: 'Ichaue serued þe long, sir emperour, & kept þi londes wiþ michel anour, & now þou ginnest me þrete. Þerof ȝiue y nouȝt a chirston. Hom to Lombardy ichil gon: Wiþ alle þe ost y may gete Y schal com in-to Almayn; for al þi tene Of al þi lond, siker mot þou ben, O fot y no schal þe lete.' ¶ When þemperour herd þat, & of his þretening vnder-ȝat, He bad wiþ wordes bold Out of his court he schuld gon. & he answerd sone anon Þat sikerliche he nold.The e of he and the n of nold blotted. Þer com þe fischer priueliche, & puked þemperour softliche: His tale to him he told. 'Sir emperour,' he seyd, 'listen to me: Of þe pilgrim ichil telle þe, Ȝif þou me herken wold.' ¶ 'Fischer,' seyd þemperour fre, 'Of þe pilgrim telle þou me, Ȝif þou þe soþe can sayn.' 'For-soþe,' he seyd, 'y can ful wel: Y schal þe leyȝen neuer a del; Þerof icham ful fain. Ȝistreuen, wiþ-outen lesing, Y went to þe se of fischeing, Mine nettes for to layn. A bedde y fond þer floterand, & þer-on a kniȝt liggeand, A man of michel mayn. ¶ & ich him axed what he were: He told me þe soþe þere Wiþ wordes fre & hende. 'Icham,' he seyd, 'þe pilgrim Þat fauȝt wiþ þe douke Berardin Ȝisterday to þe nende.' Y tok him into mi bot anon, & to min hous y lad him hom, & kept him as mi frende. Ȝif þou leuest nouȝt he is þare, Do sum seriaunt þider fare, & þer ȝe may him fende.' ¶ Þemperour sent after him þo Wiþ þe fischer & other mo, & brouȝt him, saunfayle. Þai were don togider bliue Wiþ hard strokes for to driue: Þai gun hem to asayle. Wel hard togider gun þai fiȝt: Wiþ her brondes, þat wer briȝt, Þai hewe hauberk of mayle. Þus togider gun þai play, Til it was þe heyȝe midday, Wiþ wel strong batayle. ¶ wanting in MS. Þe douk Berard was egre of mode: He smot to Gij as he wer wode; His liif he wende to winne. He hit [him]him here omitted in MS, but the catchword on fol. 160 v. is he hit him on þe helm on þe helm on hiȝt, Þat alle þe floures feir & briȝt He dede hem fleyȝe atvinne. Þe nasel he carf atvo, & þe venteyle he dede also Riȝt to his bare chinne.[Three lines are here omitted in MS.] ¶ Sir Gij was wroþ anon fot hot, & Berard on þe helme he smot: To stond hadde he no space; For boþe helmes he carf atvo, & his heued he dede also In midward of þe face. Þurch al his bodi þe swerd bot Into þe erþe wele half a fot, Þat seiȝe men in þe place. Þ[e s]The letters in brackets blotted. oule went fro þe bodi þere: Þ[e fol]kThe letters in brackets blotted. of þe cite wel glad were; Þ[ai]The letters in brackets blotted. þonked our lordes grace. ¶ Bifor þemperour þan com sir Gij: 'Ichaue wroken þerl Tirri (Þe soþe þou miȝt now sen), & defended him of þat felonie Oȝain þe douke Berard of Paui, Þat was so stout & ken. Þerfore þe soþe ich ax þe, Ȝif Tirri schal quitecleymed be, & haue his lond oȝen. & who so þer-oȝain wiþstond He schal haue schame of min hond, Wel siker may he ben.' ¶ Þemperour seyd, 'sikerly, Þou hast wroken þerl Tirri; Gret honour þou hast him don. Þerfore when he is come His londes þan al & some He schal haue euerichon.' Þan was Gij glad & bliþe, & kest of his armes also swiþe: After him he thouȝt to gon. Þemperour wald cloþe him in gold, Ac, sikerliche, he seyd he nold: His sclauain he axed anon. ¶ To toun he went in his way To finde Tirri ȝif he may In sorwe & care ful bounde. Into a chirche he him dede, & fond him in a priue stede Liand on knes to grounde. 'Arise vp, Tirri,' he seyd þo; 'To court þou schalt wiþ me go, Now ichaue þe founde.' Tirri anon his heued vpbreyd, & seyd, 'pilgrim, hastow me treyd, Allas þat ich stounde! ¶ Allas, allas,' þan seyd he, 'To what man may men trust be, To chese to his make? Þou þat semed so stedefast To þemperour me wraied hast: To sle me þou hast take. In iuel time was it to me Þat y mi name told to þe: Allas þat ich sake!' For sorwe þat he hadde þo O word no miȝt he speke mo, Bot stode & gan to quake. ¶ 'Tirri,' seyd Gij, 'drede þe no-þing: Þou schalt to-day here gode tiding Þurch grace of godes sond. Þe schrewed douke Berard he is ded; Under þe cite he is y-leyde: Y slouȝ him wiþ min hond.' Þo was Tirri glad & bliþe: To court he went also swiþe; For noþing wald he wond. 'Sir emperour,' seyd Gij anon, 'Now is Tirri comen hom To resceiue his lond.' ¶ Þemperour on him gan bihold, & seyd to him wiþ wordes bold, 'Artow þerl Tirri? Where is now þi bold chere Þat whilom so douhti were, & holden so hardi?' 'Ȝa, sir,' he seyd, 'icham he. Whilom y was of gret bounde, & helden ful douhti;The whole line on an erasure. & now ich haue al forlorn Wiþ miche sorwe on euen & morn To seke mi felawe sir Gij. ¶ Ich haue him souȝt in mani lond, Ac neuer man ȝete ich fond Can telle of him no sawe: He is dede, ich wot full wel. God almiȝti & seyn Miȝhel To blis his soule drawe! Ac now is it told me þis pilgrim As slayn þe douke Berardin; Þerof icham ful fawe. Sir emperour, y bid merci: For godes loue & our leuedi, Þo[u] do me londes lawe.' ¶ Þritti erls wel curteys, & alle þe lordinges of þe palais,altered from paylais. & mani baroun afine Crid merci to þemperour bold. Þemperour gan him bihold,The i of bihold partially gone. & seyd, 'Tirri, frende min, Here y sese þe in al þi lond, Wiþ worþschip to held in þine hond, Bi god & seyn Martine. Bifor mi barouns y graunt þe, Steward of mi lond þou schalt be As was þe douke Berardine.' ¶ Þemperour kist him ful swete, Forȝaf him his wreþe & his hete Bifor hem al þere.Þre MS. When þemperour & þerl were at on, Þe lordinges euerichon Wele bliþe of hertes were. 'Sir Tirri,' seyd þemperour fre, 'For þi fader soule, tel þou me, Astow art me leue & dere, Whennes is þis pilgrim? Is he þi nem or þi cosyin Þat fauȝt for þe here?' ¶ 'Sir emperour,' seyd sir Tirri, 'So god me help & our leuedi, For-soþe wiþouten fayle, Y no seiȝe neuer ere þis pilgrim, Bot þis oþer day y met wiþ him, & told him mi conseyl. He swore astite bi seyn Ion To þi court he wald gon Þe douk Berard to asayle. Ich wend wel litel þan, y pliȝt, He hadde ben of michel miȝt, To hold wiþ him batayle.' ¶ Þemperour dede as a gode man, & Tirri into his chaumber he nam, & richeliche gan him schrede. He fond him wepen, & armour briȝt, & al þat schuld falle to kniȝt, & feffed him wiþ prede; & fond him hors & stedes gode, Of al his lond þe best stode, Hom wiþ him to lede. Þemperour wald þe pilgrim at-hold,hold blotted. Ac, sikerliche, he seyd he nold: Wiþ Tirri hom he ȝede. ¶ When Tirri was comen hom, Þe pilgrim he wald anon Sesen in al his lond, & he for-soke it al out-riȝt; For riches loued he no-wiȝt For to hold in hond. Þerl as swiþe his sond he sent Ouer al his lond, verrament, Til þat his wiif he fond: Þo was sche founden in an ileanile MS. In a nunri þat while For doute of Berardes bond. ¶ Þo was Tirri a noble man, In al þat lond better nas nan, As y ȝou tel may. Destrud were al his enemis: He liueþ in michel ioie & blis, Al-so a prince in play. Anon sir Gij him bi-þouȝt Þat lenger wald he duelle nouȝt. To sir Tirri on a day He seyd to him in þat tide, 'Here nil y no lenger abide: Ich mot wende in mi way. ¶ O þing,' he seyd, 'y pray þe: Out of þe cite go wiþ me, Astow art hendi kniȝt. Alon we shul go boþe y-fere, & swich tidinges þou schalt here, Þou schalt haue wonder, apliȝt.' Þerl him graunt wiþ hert fre, & went wiþ him out of þat cite In his way ful riȝt, & when þai wer þennes half a mileamile MS. Þer þai duelled a litel while, Þo gomes of michel miȝt. ¶ 'Tirri,' seyd Gij, 'vnderstond þou þe: Þou art vnkinde, so þenkeþ me; For Gij, þi gode fere, Whihi blotted. wiltow him knowe nouȝt? Y-wis,wis blotted. þou art iuel biþouȝt. No was he þe leue & dere? Þenke he slouȝ þe douk Otoun, & brouȝt þe out of his prisoun, & made þe quite & skere, & hou he fond þe ded almast As he rode þurch a forestaforest MS. Wiþ a rewely chere, ¶ & hou he socourd þi leman schene, & al þe fiften outlawes ken He slouȝ hem al on rawe, & slouȝ þe four kniȝtes radde, & þi bodi to toun ladde, To leche þi woundes ful fawe, & he socourd þi fader in wer, & halp þe boþe nere & fer Þo þou was fallen ful lawe, & now y slouȝ Berard þe strong. Icham Gij; þou hast wrong: Why wiltow me nouȝt knawe?' ¶ When þerl herd him speke so, Wepen he gan wiþ eyȝen to, & fel aswon to grounde. 'For godes loue,' he seyd, 'merci! Iuel at ese now am y, In sorwe & care ful bounde. Ful wele miȝt y knowe þe ar now: In al þis warld was nonman MS. bot þou Oȝain Berard durst founde. Merci, sir, par charite: Þat ich haue misknowen þe, Allas, allas þat stounde!' ¶ Merci he crid on his kne: Boþe for sorwe & for pite Wepen he bigan. He seyȝe his legges brosten ich-del, Þat whilom wer y-hosed ful wel: More sorwe made neuer man. Sir Gij went to him þo: In his hert him was wo, & in his armes vp him nam. Atvix hem was gret diol in þat stounde: Boþe þai fel aswon to grounde: For sorwe þai wex al wan. ¶ 'Tirri,' seyd sir Gij þo, 'Þou schalt bileue, & y schal go: Y biteche þe heuen king. Bot ich haue a sone, y-wis, Y not wheþer he kniȝt is, For he is bot a ȝongling: Ȝif he haue ani nede to þe, Help him for þe loue of me, Y pray þe, in al þing. Ich hope he schal be a gode kniȝt: Y pray Iesu ful of miȝt He graunt him his blisceing.' ¶ 'Merci, sir,' þan seyd he, 'For godes loue, leue her stil wiþ me: Y pray þe par amour. Mi treuþe y pliȝt in þine hond, Y schal þe sese in al mi lond, Boþe in toun & tour. Þi man y wil be & serue þe ay Þer while mi liif lest may, To hold vp þin honour. & ȝif þou no wilt ichil wiþ þe go: Y-wis, ichaue wele leuer so Þan bileue wiþ þemperour.' No ¶ in MS. 'Do oway, sir Tirri: þer-of speke nouȝt; Al idel speche it is þi þouȝt. Wende oȝain hom now riȝt, & be nouȝt to prout, y þe rede: To serue þi lord at al his nede Þou proue wiþ þi miȝt. Desirite no man of his lond: Ȝif þou dost þou gos to schond; Ful siker be þou, apliȝt. For ȝiue þou reue a man his fe Godes face schaltow neuer se, No com in heuen liȝt. ¶ Biþenke þe wele of douke Berard, Hou prout he was, for he was steward, & flemed þe out of lond, & he now desirite is, Wiþ michel sorwe slayn, y-wis, & schamelich driuen to schond. Y schal gon, & þou bileue schalt: Y biteche þe god, þat al þing walt, & maked wiþ his hond.' Þai kisten hem togider þo: Oliue þai seyȝen hem neuer eft mo, As þe gest doþ ous vnderstond. ¶ Gret sorwe þai made at her parting, & kist hem wiþ eiȝe wepeing. Þai wenten hem boþe atvo. Als swiþe þerl Tirri went him hom, Þre days he no ete mete non: In hert him was ful wo; & when þe countas, sikerly, Herd seyn it was sir Gij Þat þan was went hem fro, Sche vpbreyd hir lord day & niȝt Þat he no had holden him wiþ strengþe & miȝt, & laten him nouȝt þennes go.gon MS. Now went Gij forþ in his way Toward þe see so swiþe he may; For Tirri he siked sare. Into schip he went biliue: Ouer þe se he gan driue; Into Inglond he gan fare. Þe lond folk he axed anon After king Aþelston, In what cuntre he ware. 'At Winchester, verrament, & after his barouns he haþ sent Boþe lasse & mare. ¶ Erls, barouns, & bischopes, Kniȝtes, priours, & abbotes At Winchester þai ben ichon, & han puruayd, wiþ-outen lesing, Þre days to ben in fasting, To biseke god in tron He sende hemhim MS. þurch his swet sond A man þat were douhti of hond Oȝain Colbrond to gon. Þer is þe king & þe barnage, y-wis, For doute of her enemis, Þat wayt hem for to slon. ¶ For sir Anlaf, þe king of Danmark, Wiþ a nost store & stark Into Inglond is come, Wiþ fiften þousend kniȝtes of pris: Alle þis lond þai stroyen, y-wis, & mani a tounThe t of toun altered from d. han nome. A geaunt he haþ brouȝt wiþ him Out of Aufrike stout & grim: Colbrond hat þat gome. For him is al Inglond forlore Bot godes help be bi-fore, Þat socour sende hem some. ¶ To þe king he haþ sent his sond For to ȝeld him al Inglond,Inglong MS. & ȝif him trowage out-riȝt; Ȝif he no wil nouȝt, finde a baroun, A geaunt oþer a champioun, Oȝain Colbrond to fiȝt. & þer-of þai han taken a day, Ac our king non finde may: Erl, baroun, no kniȝt, No squier, no seriaunt non Oȝain þe geaunt dar gon: So grim he is of siȝt.' ¶ Þan seyd sir Gij, 'whare i[s] Herhaud, Þat in his time was so bald? & þai answerd ful swiþe, 'To seche Gyes sone he is fare, Þat marchaunce hadde stollen þare: For him he was vnbliþe.' '& where is þerl Rohaut of pris?' & þai answerd, 'dede he is, A gode while is go siþe; & Feliis, his douhter, is his air: So gode a leuedi no so fair, Y-wis, nis non oliue.' ¶ Gij went to Winchester a ful gode pas, Þer þe king þat time was, To held his parlement. Þe barouns weren in þe halle: Þe king seyd, 'lordinges alle, Mine men ȝe ben, verrament. Þerfore ich ax, wiþ-outen fayl, Of þis Danis folk, wil ous aseyl. Ich biseche ȝou wiþ gode entent, For godes loue y pray ȝou, Gode conseyl ȝiue me now, Or elles we ben al schent. ¶ For þe king of Danmark wiþ wrong Wiþ his geaunt, þat is so strong, He wil ous al schende. Þerfore ich axi ȝou ichon, What rede is best for to don? Oȝaines hem for to wende? Ȝif he ouercom ous in batayle He wil slen ous alle, saunfeyle, & strouen al our kende: Þan schal Inglond euermo Liue in þraldom &Repeated in MS. in wo Vnto þe warldes ende. ¶ Þerfore ich axi ȝou now riȝt Ȝif ȝe knowe our ani kniȝt Þat is so stout & bold Þat þe batayle dar take an hond, To fiȝt oȝain Col-brond: Half mi lond haue he schold Wiþ alle þe borwes þat liþ þer-to To him & to his aires euer-mo, To haue ȝiue he wold.' [S]til seten erls & barouns, As men hadde schauen her crounes: Nouȝt on answere nold. ¶ 'Allas,' seyd þe king, 'þat y was born: Al mi ioie it is forlorn; Wel wo is me oliue. Now in al mi lond nis no kniȝt Oȝains a geant to hold fiȝt: Mine hert wil breken on fiue. Allas, of Warwike sir Gij, Y no hadde ȝeuen þe half mi lond frely, To hold wiþouten striue! Wele were me þan bifalle, Ac, certes, now þe Danis men alle To sorwe þai schul me driue.' ¶ When it was niȝt to bedde þai ȝede: Þe king for sorwe & for drede Wiþ teres wett his lere. Of al þat niȝt he slepe riȝt nouȝt, Bot euer Iesu he bisouȝt, Þat was him leue & dere, He schuld him sende þurch his sond A man to fiȝt wiþ Colbrond, Ȝif it is wille were; & Iesus Crist ful of miȝt He sent him a noble kniȝt, As ȝe may forward here. Þer cam an angel fram heuen liȝt, & seyd to þe king ful riȝt Þurch grace of godes sond. He seyd, 'king Aþel-ston, slepestow? Hider me sent þe king Iesu To comfort þe to fond. To-morwe go to þe norþ ȝate ful swiþe: A pilgrim þou schalt se com biliue, When þou hast a while stond. Bid him for seynt Charite Þat he take þe batayl for þe, & he it wil nim on hond.' ¶ Þan was þe king glad & bliþe. A-morwe he ros vp ful swiþe, & went to þe gate ful riȝt; Tvay erls went wiþ him þo, & tvay bischopes dede also. Þe weder was fair & briȝt. Opon þe day about prime Þe king seiȝe cum þe pilgrim. Bi þe sclauayn he him pliȝt: 'Pilgrim,' he seyd, 'y pray þe, To court wende þou hom wiþ me, & ostel þer al niȝt.' ¶ 'Be stille, sir,' seyd þe pilgrim: 'It is nouȝt ȝete time to take min in, Al-so god me rede.' Þe king him bisouȝt þo, & þe lordinges dede also: To court wiþ hem he ȝede. 'Pilgrim,' quaþ þe king, 'par charite, Ȝif it be þi wil, vnderstond to me: Y schal schewe þe al our nede. Þe king of Danmark wiþ gret wrong Þurch a geaunt, þat is so strong, Wil strou al our þede. ¶ & whe han taken of him batayle, On what maner, saunfayle, Y schal now tellen þe. Þurch þe bodi of a kniȝt,akniȝt MS. OȝainsOȝains altered from Oȝanss. þat geaunt to hold fiȝt, Schal þis lond aquite be. &, pilgrim, for him þat dyed on rode, & þat for ous schadde his blod, To bigge ous alle fre, Take þe batayle now on hond, & saue ous þeAdded above the line. riȝt of Inglond, For seynt Charite.' ¶ 'Do way, leue sir,' seyd Gij. 'Icham an old man, a feble bodi: Mi strengþe is fro me fare.' Þe king fel on knes to grounde, & crid him merci in þat stounde, Ȝif it his wille ware, & þe barouns dede also: O knes þai fellen alle þo Wiþ sorwe & sikeing sare. Sir Gij biheld þe lordinges allc, & whiche sorwe hem was bi-falle: Sir Gij hadde of hem care. ¶ Sir Gij tok vp þe king anon, & bad þe lordinges euerichon Þat þai schuld vp stond, & seyd, 'for godAnother god erased in MS. in trinite & for to make Inglond fre, Þe batayle y nim on hond.' Þan was þe king ful glad & bliþe, & þonked Gij a þousend siþe & Iesu Cristes sond. ¶ here by mistake in MS.To þe king of Danmark he sent þan, & seyd he hadde founden a man To fiȝt for Inglond. ¶ Þe Danismen busked hem ȝare Into batayle for to fare: To fiȝt þai war wel fawe. & Gij was armed swiþe wel In a gode hauberk of stiel Wrouȝt of þe best lawe. An helme he hadde of michel miȝt With a ce[r]cle of gold, þat schon briȝt, Wiþ precious stones on rawe. In þe frunt stode a char-bukel ston: As briȝt as ani sonne it schon Þat glemes vnder schawe. ¶ On þat helme stode a flour: Wrouȝt it was of diuers colour; Mirie it was to b[i]hold. Trust & trewe was his ventayle, Gloues, & gambisoun, & hosen of mayle As gode kniȝt haue scholde. Girt he was wiþ a gode brond Wele kerueand, bi-forn his hond A targe listed wiþ gold, Portreyd wiþ þre kinges corn, Þat present god when he was born: Mirier was non on mold. ¶ & a swift ernand stede Al wrin þai dede him lede: His tire it was ful gay. Sir Gij opon þat stede wond Wiþ a gode glaiue in hond, & priked him forþ his way, &, when he com to þe plas Þer þe batayl loked was, Gij liȝt wiþ-outen delay, & fel on knes doun in þat stede, & to god he bad his bede, He schuld ben his help þat day. ¶ 'Lord,' seyd Gij, 'þat rered Lazeroun, & for man þoled passioun, & on þe rode gan blede, Þat saued Sussan fram þe feloun, & halp Daniel fram þe lyoun, To-day wisse me & rede: Astow art miȝti heuen king, To-day graunt me þi blisseing, & help me at þis nede. &, leuedi Mari ful of miȝt, To-day saue Inglondes riȝt, & leue me wele to spede.' When þe folk was samned bi boþe side, Þe to kinges wiþ michel pride After þe relikes þai sende, Þe corporas, & þe messe gere: On þe halidom þai gun swere Wiþ wordes fre & hende. Þe king of Danmarke swore furst, ywis,Added above the line. Ȝif þat his geant slayn is, To Danmarke he schal wende, & neuer more Inglond cum wiþinne, No non after him of his kinne Vnto þe warldes ende. ¶ Seþþen swore þe king Aþelston, & seyd among hem euerichon Bi god þat al may weld, Ȝif his man þer slayn be, Or ouer-comen, þat men may se, Recreaunt in þe feld, His man he wil bicom an hond, & alle þe reme of Inglond Of him for to helde, & hold him for lord & king, Wiþ gold, & siluer, & oþer þing Gret trowage him for to ȝelde. ¶ When þai had sworn & ostage founde, Colbrond stirt vp in þat stounde: To fiȝt he was ful felle. He was so michel & so vnrede, Þat non hors miȝt him lede, In gest as y ȝou telle. So mani he hadde of armes gere, Vnneþe a cart miȝt hem bere, Þe Inglisse for to quelle. Swiche armour as he hadde opon, Y-wis, no herd ȝe neuer non, Bot as it ware a fende of helle. ¶ Of mailes was nouȝt his hauberk: It was al of anoþer werk, Þat meruail is to here. Alle it were þicke splentes of stiel, Þicke y-ioined strong & wel, To kepe þat fendes fere. Hossen he hadde also wele y-wrouȝt: Oþer þan sp[l]entes was it nouȝt Fram his fot to his swere. He was so michel & so strong, & þer-to so wonderliche long: In þe world was non his pere. ¶ An helme he hadde on his heued sett, & þer-vnder a þicke bacinet. Unsemly was his wede. A targe he had wrouȝt ful wel (Oþer metel was þer non on bot stiel), A michel & vnrede. Al his armour was blac as piche. Wel foule he was & loþliche, A grisely gom to fede. Þe heiȝe king þat sitteþ on heiȝe, Þat welt þis warld fer & neiȝe, MadeRead Make? him wel iuel to spede. ¶ A dart he bar in his hond kerueand, & his wepen about him stondand Boþe bihinde & biforn, Ax[e]s, & gisarmes scharp y-grounde, & glaiues for to ȝiue wiþ wounde, To hundred & mo þer worn. Þe Inglis biheld him fast: King Aþelston was sore agast, Inglond he schuld haue lorn; For, when Gij seiȝe þat wicked hert, He nas neuer so sore aferdThe d in aferd altered from t. Seþþen þat he was born. Sir Gij lepe on his stede fot hot, & wiþ a spere, þat wele bot, To him he gan to ride. & he schet to Gij dartes þre: Of þe tvay þan failed he, Þe þridde he lete to him glide. Þurch Gyes scheld it glod & þurch his armour wiþouten abod Bitvene his arme & side, & quitelich into þe feld it ȝede Þe mountaunce of an acre brede Er þat it wald abide. ¶ Sir Gij to him gan to driue, Þat his spere brast afiue On his scheld þat was so bounde. & Colbrond wiþ michel hete On Gyes helme he wald haue smite, & failed of him þat stounde: BitvixThe x altered from ȝ? þe sadel & þe arsoun Þe strok of þat feloun glod adoun Wiþouten wem or wounde, Þat sadel & hors atvo he smot, Into þe erþe wele half a fot, & Gij fel doun to grounde. ¶ Sir Gij astite vp stirt As man þat was agremed in hert: His stede he hadde for-lore. On his helme he wald hit him þo, Ac he no miȝt nouȝt reche þerto Bi to fot & ȝete more, Bot on his schulder þe swerd fel doun, & carf boþe plates & hauberioun Wiþ his grimli gore. Þurch al his armour stern & strong He made him a wounde a spanne long, Þat greued him ful sore. ¶ Colbrond was sore aschame, & smot Gij wiþ michel grame: On his helm he hit him þo, Þat his floures euer-ichon & his gode charbukel ston Wel euen he carf atvo: Euen ato he smot his scheld, Þat it fleyȝe into þe feld. When Gij seyȝe it was so, Þat he hadde his scheld forlorn, Half bihinde & half biforn, In hert him was wel wo. ¶ & Gij hent his swerd an hond, & heteliche smot to Colbrond: As a child he stode him vnder. Opon þe scheld he ȝaue him swiche a dent, Bifor þe stroke þe fiir out went, As it were liȝt of þonder. Þe bondes of stiel he carf ichon, & in-to þe scheld a fot & half on Wiþ his swerd he smot asunder. & wiþ þe out-braiding his swerd brast: Þei Gij were þan sore agast It was litel wonder. ¶ Þo was Gij sore desmayd, & in his hert wel iuel y-payd, For þe chaunce him was bifalle, & for he hadde lorn his gode brond & his stede opon þe sond. To our leuedi he gan calle. Þan gun þe Danis ost Ich puken oþer & make bost, & seyd among hem alle, 'Now schal þe Inglis be slain in feld. Gret trouage Inglond schal ous ȝeld, & euermore ben our þral.' ¶ 'Now, sir kniȝt,' seyd Colbrond, 'Þou hast lorn þi swerd in þine hond, Þi scheld, & eke þi stede. Do now wele, ȝeld þe to me, & smertlich vnarme þe: Cri merci, y þe rede; &, for þou art so douhti kniȝt, Þou durst oȝain me held fiȝt, To mi lord y schal þe lede, & wiþ him þou schalt acorded be: In his court he wil hold þe, & finde þat þe is nede.' ¶ 'Do way,' seyd Gij, 'þerof speke nouȝt. Bi him þat al þis world haþ wrouȝt, Ich hadde leuer þou were an-hong! Ac þou hast armes gret plente: Y-wis, þou most lene me On of þine axes strong.' Colbrond swore bi Apolin, 'Of al þe wepen þat is min Her schaltow non afong. Now þou wilt nouȝt do bi mi rede, Þou schalt dye on iuel dede, Er þat it be ouȝt long.' ¶ When Gij herd him speke so, Al sone he gan him turn þo, & to his wepen he geþ. Þer his axes stoden bi hem-selue, He kept on wiþ a wel gode helue, Þe best him þouȝt he seþ. To Colbron[d] oȝain he ran, & seyd, 'traitour,' to him þan, 'Þou schalt han iuel deþ. Now ich haue of þi wepen plente, Where-wiþ þat y may were me Riȝt maugre al þin teþ.' ¶ Colbrond þan wiþ michel hete On Gyes helme he wald haue smite Wiþ wel gret hert tene, Ac he failed of his dint,de erased before dint. & þe swerd into þe erþe went A fot & more, y wene, & wiþ Colbrondes out-drauȝt Sir Gij wiþ ax a strok him rauȝt, A woundeThe o of wounde altered from a. þat was wele sene. So smertliche he smot to Colbrond, Þat his riȝt arme wiþ alle þe hond He strok of quite & clene. ¶ When Colbrond feld him so smite, He was wel wroþ, ȝe may wel wite: He gan his swerd vp fond, & in his left hond op it haf, & Gij in þe nek a strok him ȝaf As he [gan] stoupe for þe brond, Þat his heued fro þe bodi he smot, & into þe erþe half a fot: Þurch grace of godes sond Ded he feld þe glotoun þare. Þe Denis wiþ sorwe & care Þai diȝt hem out of lond. ¶ Bliþe were þe Inglis men ichon: Erls, barouns, & king Aþelston Þai toke sir Gij þat tide, & ladde him to Winchester toun Wiþ wel fair processioun Ouer al bi ich a side. For ioie belles þai gun ring, 'Te deum laudamus' þai gun sing, & play, & michel pride. Sir Gij vnarmed him, & was ful bliþe: His sclauain he axed also swiþe: No lenger he nold abide. ¶ 'Sir pilgrim,' þan seyd þe king, 'Whennes þou art, wiþouten lesing, Þou art douhti of dede; For þurch douhtines of þin hond Þou hast saued al Inglond: God quite þe þi mede, & mi treuþe y schal pliȝt þe, So wele y schal feffe þe Boþe in lond & lede, Þat of riches in toun & tour Þou schalt be man of mest honour Þat woneþ in al mi þede.' ¶ 'Sir king,' seyd þe pilgrim, 'Of alle þe lond þat is tin Y no kepe þerof na mare; Bot, now ichaue þe geant slain (Þerof, y-wis, icham ful fain), Mi way ichil forþ fare.' 'Merci, sir,' þe king seyd þan, 'Tel me, for him þat made man (For noþing þou ne spare), Tel me what þi name it be, Whennes þou art, & of what cuntre, Or y schal dye for care.' ¶ 'Sir king,' he seyd, 'y schal tel it þe: What mi riȝt name it be Þou schalt witen anon, Ac þou schalt go wiþ me y-fere, Þat noman of our conseyl here, Bot þou & y alon.' Þe king him graunted & was bliþe: He comand his folk al so swiþe No wiȝt wiþ him to gon. Out of þe toun þan went he Wele half a mile fram þat cite, & þer made Gij his mon. ¶ 'Sir king,' seyd Gij, 'vnderstond to me: O þing y schal now pray þe, Astow art curteys and hende, Ȝif y mi name schal þe sayn, Þat to noman þou no schalt me wrayn, To þis ȝere com to þende. Gij of Warwike mi nam is riȝt: Whilom y was þine owhen kniȝt, & held me for þi frende; & now icham swiche astow may see. God of heuen biteche y þe: Mi way y wil forþ wende.' ¶ When þe king seiȝe, sikerly, Þat it was þe gode Gij Þat fro him wald his way, On knes he fel adoun to grounde: 'Leue sir Gij,' in þat stounde, 'Merci,' he gan to say. 'For godes loue, bi-leue wiþ me, & mi treuthe y schal pliȝt þe, Þat y schal þis day Sese & ȝiue in-to þine hond HalfIn half MS. þe reme of Inglond. For godes loue, say nouȝt nay.' ¶ 'Sir king,' seyd Gij,Added above the line. 'y nil nouȝt so. Haue þou þi lond for euer-mo, & god y þe bi-teche. Ac, ȝif Herhaud to þis lond com, & bring wiþ him Reynbroun, mi sone, Help him, y þe biseche; For þai er boþe hende & fre. On Herhaud þou miȝt trust þe To take of þine fon wreche.' Þai kisten hem togider þo: Al wepeand þai wenten ato Wiþouten ani more speche. ¶ Þe king wel sore wepe for pite, & went him hom to his meyne Wiþ a mournand chere. His folk oȝaines him gan gon, & asked þe king sone anon What man þe pilgrim were. Þai seyd, 'he is a douhti kniȝt: Wald Iesu ful of miȝt He wald leue wiþ ous here.' Þe king seyd, 'al stille ȝe be: What he is ȝour non schal wite for me, I-wis, of al þis ȝere.' Sir Gij went in his way forþ riȝt, Oft he þonked god almiȝt Þat þe geaunt was slawe. To Warwike he went, to þat cite Þer he was lord of þat cuntre To hold wiþ riȝt lawe. He nas knowen þer of no man, When he to þe castel ȝates cam: Þerof he was ful fawe. Among þe pouer men he him dede Þer þai weren vp in a stede, & sett him on a rawe. ¶ & Feliis þe countas was þer þan: In þis warld was non better wiman, In gest as-so we rede; For þritten pouer men & ȝete mo For hir lordes loue sche loued so Ich day sche gan fede, Wiþ þan god & our leuedi Schuld saue hir lord sir Gij, & help him at his nede. Sche no stint noiþer day no niȝt, For him sche bisouȝt god almiȝt Wiþ bedes & almos dede. ¶ On a day þe leuedi went to mete, & bad men schuld biforn hir fete Hir pouer men al biden, & men brouȝt hem euerichon, & Gij of Warwike was þat on Of þo ich þritten. In his hert he hadde gret care, Þat he schuld be knawen þare Of hem þat hadde him sen, Ac þer was non so wise of siȝt Þat him þer knowe miȝt: So misais he was & lene. Þe leuedi biheld him inliche, Hou mesays he was, sikerliche. Curteys sche was & hende: Of euerich mete, of euerich d[r]ing Þat sche ete of herself, wiþouten lesing, Sche was him ful mende; Of hir bere & of hir wine In hir gold coupe afine Oft sche gan him sende, & bad him ich day com he schold: Mete & drink sche finde him wold Vnto his liues ende. ¶ Sir [Gij] þonked þat leuedi oft, Bot alle anoþer was his þouȝt Þan he wald to hir say. When þe grace were y-seyd, & þe bordes adoun layd, Out of toun he went his way. Into a forest wenden he gan To an hermite he knewe er þan, To speke him ȝif he may. &, when he þider comen was, Þe gode hermite þurch godes grace Was dede & loken in clay. ¶ Þan þouȝt sir Gij anon Þat wald he neuer þennes gon Þer whiles he war oliue. Wiþ a prest he spac of þat cuntray Þat dede him seruise ich day, & of his sinnes gan schriue. Wiþ him he hadde þer a page Þat serued him in þat hermitage Wiþouten chest & striue. No lenger was he liues þere Bot niȝen moneþes of a ȝere, As ȝe may listen & liþe. ¶ In slepe as Gij lay aniȝt, God sent an angel briȝt Fram heuen to him þare. 'Gij,' seyd þe angel, 'slepestow? Hider me sent þe king Iesu To bid þe make þe ȝare; For bi þe eiȝtenday at morwe He schal deliuer þe out of þi sorwe, Out of þis warld to fare. To heuen þou schalt com him to, & liue wiþ ous euer-mo In ioie wiþouten care.' ¶ When Gij was waked of þat drem, Of an angel he seiȝe a glem: 'What artow?' þan seyd he. Þe angel answerd, 'fram heuen y cam: Miȝhel is mi riȝt nam. God sent me to þe To bid þe make þe redi way: Bi þe eiȝtenday þou schalt day, Wel siker mauȝtow be. & y schal feche þi soule ful euen, & bere it to þe þlis of heuen Wiþ grete solempnete.' ¶ Þe angel goþ forþ, & Gij bileft stille: His bedes he bad wiþ gode wille To Iesu heuen king, & when his term was nere gon His knaue he cleped to him anon, & seyd, wiþouten lesing, 'Sone,' he seyd, 'y pray now þe, Go to Warwike þat cite Wiþ-outen more duelling, & when þou comest þer, y þe biseche, Gret wele þe countas wiþ þi speche, & take hir þis gold ring. ¶ & say þe pilgrim hat hir biforn, Þat hir mete was to born, On þe pouer mannes rawe, Gret hir wele in al þing, & sende to hir þis gold ring, Ȝif þat sche wil it knawe. Als son as sche haþ þer-of a siȝt, Sche wil it knawe anon riȝt, & be þerof ful fawe. Þan wil sche ax ware y be: Leue sone, for loue of me Þe soþe to hir þou schawe, ¶ & say icham for godes loue In þe forest hermite bicome, Mine sinnes for to bete, & bid hir for þe loue of me Þat sche com hider wiþ þe: For no þing sche no lete. & when ȝe com ȝe finde me dede: Do me neuer hennes lede, Bot graue me here in grete. & after sche schal dye, y-wis, & com to me in-to heuen blis, Þer ioies her ful swete.' ¶ Þe knaue went forþ anon, In-to Warwike he gan gon Bifor þat leuedi fre, &, when he hadde þat leuedi founde, On knes he fel adoun to grounde, & seyd, 'listen to me: Þe pilgrim þat ete þe biforn, Þat þi mete was to born, An hermite now is he. He greteþ þe wele in al þing, & sent þe þis gold ring In sum tokening to be.' ¶ Þe leuedi tok þat ring anhond, & loked þeron & gan wiþstond, Þe letters for to rede. 'Ow, certes,' quaþ þe leuedi, 'Þis ring y ȝaf mi lord sir Gij, When he fro me ȝede.' For sorwe sche fel aswon, y-wis, & when þat sche arisen is To þe knaue sche gan spede. 'Leue sone,' scheindistinct. seyd, 'y pray þe, Wher is þat pilgrim? telle þou me, & gold schal be þi mede.' ¶ 'Madame,' seyd þe knaue ful skete, 'In þe forest ichim lete: Riȝt now y com him fro. He is ner ded in þe hermitage: On his halue y make þe message; Y-wis, he bad me so, & bad þou schust to him come For þat ich trewe loue Þat was bitvene ȝou tvo. Do him neuer lede oway, Bot biri him riȝt þer in clay. Oliue sestow him no mo.' ¶ Þe leuedi was glad of þat tiding, & þonked Iesu heuen king, & was in hert ful bliþe ÞatThe t indistinct. sche schuld sen hir lord sir Gij; Ac for o þing sche was sori, Þat he schuld dye so swiþe. Þai made hem redi for to wende Wiþ kniȝtes & wiþ leuedis hende: On a mule þai sett hir siþe, & wiþ al þe best of þat cite To þermitage went sche,s underdotted before sche. As ȝe may listen & liþe. ¶ To þermitage when þai com, Þer þai liȝt al & some, & in sche went wel euen. When þat sche seiȝe hir lord sir Gij, Sche wept & made doleful cri Wiþ a ful reweful steuen. Sir Gij loked on hir þare: His soule fram þe bodi gan fare. A þousand angels & seuen Vnder-fenge þe soule of Gij, & bar it wiþ gret molodi Into þe blis of heuen. ¶ Þan was þat leuedi ful of care, For hir lord was fram hir fare: 'Allas' it was hir song. Sche kist his mouþe, his chin also, & wepe wiþ hir eiȝen to, & hir hondes sche wrong. Gret honour dede our lord for Gij: A swete braþe com fram his bodi, Þat last þat day so long, Þat in þis world spices alle No miȝt cast a swetter smalle As þen was hem among. ¶ Þe leudy astite dede send hir sond After bischopes, abotes of þe lond, Þe best þat miȝt be founde, &, when þider was com þat fair ferred, To Warwike þai wald him lede, As lord of michel mounde. Bot al þe folk þat þer was No miȝt him stir of þat plas Þer he lay on þe grounde. An hundred men about him were, No miȝt him nouȝt þennes bere For heuihed þat stounde. ¶ Þan seyd þe leuedi, 'lete him be stille, Neuer more remoun him y nille, No do him hennes lede. He sent me bode wiþ his page To biri him in þis hermitage Simpliche wiþouten prede.' Þay tok a þrouȝ of marbel ston, & leyd his bodi þer-in anon Atird in kniȝtes wede. Fair seruise þan was þare Of bischopes, abbotes þat þer ware, & clerkes to sing & rede. ¶ When þai hadde birid his bodi, anon Þe gret lordinges euerichon Hom þai gun wende, Ac þe leuedi left stille þare: Sche nold neuer þennes fare; Sche kidde þat sche was kende. Sche liued no lenger, soþe to say,day MS. Bot riȝt on þe fiftenday Sche dyed þat leuedi hende, & was birid hir lord by; & now þai er togider in compeynie In ioie þat neuer schal ende. When sir Tirri herd telle þis, Þat Gij, his fere, ded is, & birid in þe clay, He com to þisThe s added above the line. lond, wiþ-outen lesing, & bisouȝt Aþelston þe king His bodi to leden oway. He it graunted him ful ȝare, Into Lorain wiþ him gan fare, Into his owhen cuntray. An abbay he lete make þo For to sing for hem to Euermore til domesday. ¶ Now haue ȝe herd, lordinges, of Gij, Þat in his time was so hardi, & holden hende & fre, & euer he loued treuþe & riȝt, & serued god wiþ al his miȝt, Þat sit in trinite, & þer-fore at his ending day He went to þe ioie þat lasteþ ay, & euer-more schal be. Now god leue ous to liue so, Þat we may þatþai MS. ioie com to. Amen, par charite. Explicit. Guye of Warrewik. [Caius MS., 107, page 1.] SYTh THE TYME þAT CRYST IHESU, Thorough hys grace & vertu, Was in þis world bore Of a mayd withowt hore, And þe world crystendom Among mankynd first becom, Many aduentures hath be wrouȝt Þat all men knoweth nouȝt. Therfore mēn shull herken blythe, And it vndirstonde right swythe, For they that were borne or wee Fayre aduenturis hadden they; For euere they louyd sothfastenesse, Faith with trewthe and stedfastnesse. Therfore schulde man with gladde chere Lerne goodnesse, vndirstonde, and here: Who myke it hereth and vndirstondeth it By resoun he shulde bee wyse of witte; And y it holde a fayre mastrye, To occupye wisedome and leue folye. For why as of an Erle j shall yow telle, How of hym it beefelle; And of hys stewarde, withoute lesynge, And of the stewarde sone, a fayre yonge thynge, That gentil was and fayre bee-seen, And how he loued a mayden sheen, The Erles doughter, that was so bryghte, And how he spoused that swete wyghte, And how that he reynbroun beegate— All y kanne tell yow that— And how he wente into wildernesse: All y canne tell yow as it ys. A wyseman it vnto vs seyd That it wrote and in ryme it leyd. I woll it not any longer concell, But open the sentence as ye may fele. IN ENGLONDE an Erle was wonnynge In Warrewyke Citee, ryght as I fynde: Ryche he was and grete of myght, Erle he was, and a full stronge knygnt, Riche of gold and of syluer bothe, Of clothes of gold and vessell, withoute othe, Of stronge castellis and riche Citees: Thorugh all Englond preised he was. In all Englond ne was ther none That durste in wrath ayenste hym goon. Good knyghtis he loued y-wys, And freely he gaue them of hys, Therfore welbelouyd he was, And grettly doubted in euery place. Erle he was of grete price: All that contree tho was hys; Of oxenford and all that contrey He was gouernoure at that day; Of Bokyngham, and of all that shyre, He was klepyd both lord and syre. That Erle Rohaude hyght, Baroun he was of grete myght. A doughter he had of hys wyue, Hyr grete beaute y can not dyscryue: For the fairest men chesen hir y-wys. That y you telle, sothe it is. Of hir beaute yet a litell wighte: With a faire visage louely in sighte, Hir skynne was white of brighte coloure; Bodied wele and of grete valour; Large tresses, and wele bee-comyng, Browes bente and nose well sittyng; The mouthe so wele sittyng ywys, To kisse it ofte it was grete blys; With grey eyen and nekke white, Hir to see it was grete delite. Hir bodye well sette and shaply; By thoo daies ther was nōōn suche truely. Gentil she was and as demure As girfauk, or fawkon to lure, That oute of muwe were drawe; So faire was noon, in sothe sawe. She was therto curteys and free ywys, And in the .vii. artes well lerned, withoute mys. All the .vii. artis she kouthe well, Noon better that euere man herde tell. Hir maisters were thider come Oute of Tholouse all and some; White and hoore all they were, Bisy they were that mayden to lere; And they hir lerned of astronomye, Of Ars-meotrik, and of geometrye. Of Sophestrie she was also witty, Of Rethoric, and of other clergye; Lerned she was in musyke; Of clergie was hir noon like. She was a woman of grete corage, Wise and faire and of gaye parage. To haue hir to wif he did hir sende Erles, Dukes, fro the worldes ende; And noon of theim haue she wolde, For that she was so faire holde. Felice .la bele hir name is: Moche she was belouid ywis; Of all faire she was the floure, Noon so faire in halle nor boure As she was; who that soughte So faire to fynde, for noughte he wroughte: He that all hir beaute write wolde, To longe tarying make he sholde. NOWE WE shull leue of hir here, And telle you forthe of our matiere. Speke we schull of the Stywarde: Well true he was, and highte Sywarde. This Syward was slighe and wise, Riche of kynde, and of grete prise: In his tyme noon better was, For of grete worship was noon in his caas. Of armes he had been chief on grounde, And therof preised in many a londe; For that he wolde preysed bee, He did him bee knowen in many a contree. In Walyngforde he was borne. All that Contree to him was sworne. A swiche noble man he was, On this half the see noon suche was, That serued his lorde so truely, And in all thinges so worshipfully. Ther was noon Erle in all that londe That his lorde durste withstonde, Bot he with loue it amended anoone, Hastely heMS. we. wolde vpon him goone, And with strengthe hym haue wolde, Though he therfor in to Scotlonde sholde. All his lordes londe well and truely He maynteyned it full worshipfully; That noon was so hardy a man, That with wronge durste come than. Fastenned he had suche a pees, That neuere sithe noon better was: Though men did bere an hundred pounde, Vpon him, of penyes rounde, There shulde not bee founde in all the londe A theef that him wolde hurte ne shonde, Nor take fro him the worthe of a sloo: So good pees there was thoo. That same Stywarde had a sone Wise and curteys at Frome; All men him did loue sothely, Ther was noon that him wolde shonye. To All men yiftes yiue he wolde, Therfore so curteis he was holde. The Erle Rohaud he serued thoo, His kynde Lorde, so mote y goo. The Erle him loued hertly and dere, Ouer all other that with him were. Of his coupe he him serue Didde, And priuyest with him in euery stede: The Erle Rohaud mikel him worshipped, And for his fader loue thoo farther him cleped. Guye of Warrewik his name was, In all the courte nōōn more honoured nas: Of knyghtes and of grete lordinges, Of more and lasse, in all thinges. Mikell he was, and of grete mighte, And fairest of all other be sighte: All him behelde wondirly, His fairenesse was so grete truly; So many goodnesses in him were: All him preised that were there. . . . . . . . . . . Guye a foster fader hadde, That him lerned and also redde Of wode, of Ryuer, of all game: Heraude of Arderne was his name. He was curteys, and well taughte, Guye he lerned and forgate him naughte; Mikell he kouthe of haukes and houndes, Of Ostours, of Faukons of grete moundes. All that wolde of him oughte craue, With good wille they shulde it haue. To parsons and to pouer knyghtes Ofte he wolde yiue riche yiftes; And to other ofte yiue he wolde Palfrey or stede, siluer and golde, Euery man after his good dede Of Guye vnderfangeth his mede. ON WITSONDAYE called Pentecoste The Erle helde a grete feste In Warrewik, that good Citee, As it euer was wonte to bee. There were Erles, barons, and knyghtes, And many a man of grete myghtes; Ladies and maydens of grete renown, The grettest desired ther' to bee bown. Many a mayde there chese hir loue anone Of knyghtes that thider were come, And the knyghtes also their' lemans there Of the maidens that there were. Whan they fro chirche were come, In to the halle they yode full sone. Whan the Erle to the mete sette was, Guye stode before him in that plaas, He that was Sywardes sone, To whom the Erle grete loue had nome. The Erle cleped to him Guye, To him gan sey and commaunded on highe, That he in to the chambre wente And grete well his doughter that was so gente; And that he shulde at mete that Daie Bee willyng to serue that faire mayē. 'Sir,' seide Guy full freely, 'I doo youre heste full blithely.' With a silken kirtell began him shrede, And in to the Chambre than he yede. The kirtell so well sitting it was, It to amende noo nede it has; Guy was so well shape and gentille, The maidens him behelde with good wille. On knees before Felice he him sette, And on hir fader behalue he hir grette, And seide how he was thider sentte To serue hir to hir talentte. Felice answerd ayene to Guye, 'Beaux amye, moult gramercye.' And than she asked him in that place Where that he borne was. And Guye seide, 'my fader is called Sywarde, That is youre faders Stywarde; Many a daye he hath me with him holde, And forthe me bredde, god him foryelde!' 'Bee ye,' she seide, 'Sywardes sone, That all goodnesse hath in wone?' Guye stode stille and spake noughte. With that the water was forth broughte: She did wesshe and wente to mete anone And so did knyght, squier, and grome. All his mighte he did that daie To serue well that faire maye. Wele to serue he did his myghte Moo than thirty maidens brighte; That all they anamoured were On Guye for his faire chere. And he therof rekked noughte, For vpon another' was his thoughte: On Felice with the nebbe so brighte He kaste his loue with all his mighte; That he ne wiste what to doo, Hir loue werked him suche woo. He wepte with mayne slilye, And mourned in hym self softelye, That he euere shulde see Hir brighte rodye, hir faire blee. Moche wonder he hath ywis, That she so faire a creatur is. He durste not to hir his loue kithe, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bot to his chambre wente right swithe: Withoute any leue takyng of Felice thoo, . . . . . Oute of his chambre he did goo. . . . . . . . . . . Than asked of him his meyne, Why that he so heuy wolde bee. Guye answerd theim anone, Seying that sikenesse is come him vpon, Wherthurgh his lif he weneth to forgoo, And neuere helth to haue of his woo. IN THE COURTE mikel bemened is Guy: For him was many a man sory; For he was wonned to serue theim wele, And to theim yiue many a ieowele. Nowe is Guy in grete tempeste, Sorowe he maketh with the moste; For loue that he had to the maye His sorowe encressed nyghte and daie. Nowe is Guye so euyll bee stadde, Hym self he helde for a man madde. For the sorowe that bim befallen is, Ofte he bemeneth him self y-wis: 'In wicked peyne sey y may, That y ne may beholde hir eyen gray, Hir graye eyen, hir nebbe so shene; For hir my lif is in a wene. To hir y shall telle my thoughte, For whom y am in this sorowe broughte. What so euere come to me good or ylle, I woll it noo lenger concele for to spille. Bot streight to hir woll y goo, And in hir mercy y shall me doo; And if she woll, she may me slee, And hir wille doo with me. Yf I my sorowe hir doo not telle, Allas, wrecche, how shall y duelle? Allas, wrecche, that me is woo! Ine wote what y may doo: For my lordys Doughter she is, And y his norry ywis; Therfor the more beholding to him y bee, And neuere noo-wher his harme to see. If y hir loued and wite might he, And therwith he may take me, Brenne he me wolde, or the hede of smyte, Or highe hange for that dispite, Or all to-hewe with swerdes kene, And y him did suche a tene. Allas, y wrecche! what may y doo? I loue hir that is my foo.' Nowe is Guye in so moche sorowe broughte, That of his lif he rekketh noughte; Nor he woteth what he may doo, For the grete sorowe that cometh him to. He wende, he trende his bodde vpon, As man that is woo bee goon; He ne may sitte, nor he may stonde, Nor vnnethe vnto him drawe his honde, Ne reste take of any slepinge, Nor ete mete, nor drinke drinke; Nor may noo man him comforte, Bot euere is songe is woo with disporte. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thus lyueth Guy in grete turmente Till the feest was ouer wente; Afterward he bethoughte is That he doth as the man wyse, That he shall loue bot strengthe haue Him self whan him luste to with-drawe. Than thinketh he, good it is hir to shewe The peynes that for hir greueth me newe: And she of my sorowe knoweth noughte, To ende y wolde my lif were broughte. Bee-tide me yuel either goode, I woll not lyue in this mode; Bot y shall to hir goo, And in hir mercy y shall me doo. Yf that she woll, she may me spille; Bot for all that y ne leue wille. GUYE IS to courte come, As man that is in sorowe nome. On knees before Felice he hym didde, And sorowfully seide in that stede, All with quakyng steuene; Thus he seide, and spake full euene: 'Felice the faire, for goddis loue, mercy! On me haue reuthe for our lady, That y ne fynde the my full foo, For loue y you praye, herken me to. Hense forewarde y woll not hele The grete loue, that me doth fele: Shewe y muste the peyne and sorowe That y haue for you euyne and morowe. Ye bee that thynge for whom y mourne, Fro you ne may my herte tourne: Ouere all thinge y muste you loue, Whether it tourne benethe or aboue, Bot that y shall loue you aye, Whiles that y lyue maye. Vnder heuen noo thinge is, Were it good or yuel ywis, That y for the doo it [ne] wolde, My lif to lese though y shulde. Ye bee my lif and my deth y-wis: Withoute you loste is all my blis. Well more y loue you than me: Deye y shall for loue of you pardee, Bot thou haue mercy on me, Myself y shall for sorowe slee. Yf ye wiste the heuynesse, The grete peyne, and the sorowfulnesse, That y haue for you nyghte and daye (With true loue y it saye)— And you it might witterly see, I trowe ye wolde haue mercy on me.' Felice to him answerde thoo, 'Telle me, Guye, if ye bee so The Stywardis sone that highte Sywarde, I holde you for a fole musarde. Nowe thou me haste of loue besoughte, To fole-hardy thou art in thoughte, Or thou me takest for a fole. Thou art taughte of wikked scole, Whiles y am thy lordes Doughter by name; Me thinketh thou doost him mikel shame, Whan thou of loue besechest me, And that y shulde thy lemman bee. Ne fonde y neuere man that so moche mysseide, Nor that so folisshe of loue me preide, Neither knyghte, Erle, ne baron; Bot thou art bot a garson, That art my man, and shuldest bee. Euyll were my beaute besette on the, Yf y a grome loued and toke, And so many faire knyghtis forsoke. Erles, Dukes, of all the beste, And of all the worlde the richeste Ouere all men desired me a plighte, Suche as on me neuere had sighte; Dispreised to moche y shuld bee To leue all theim and take the! All to grete hardiship thou thoughtest, Whan thou of loue me besoughtest. By my moder soule y the swere, And y to my fader this tyding bere, To slee the or the vtterly fordoo, (By the shull bee warned other moo) Or with wilde hors all to-drawe, For thy folie that were the lawe. . . . . . . . . . . Goo hense swithe! vp arise, And come nomore here in this wise!' Full SOROWFULLY thense gooth Guy Home to his Inne all sory: In to his Chambre he is goon, And beshette him therin all aloon. There he made sorowe and sorowe enough: His clothes he rende, his heer he drough. Of loue he bemeneth him strongely, For whom he hath sorowe gretly: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Loue, a-slake me of this wodenesse, And respite graunte me more or lesse, That y might reste me a throwe, Wherthurgh my sorowe may ouere blowe. To farre y am kaste in vnmyghte, My herte is heuy, and noo-thing lighte. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What shall y doo? how shall y fare? I may not lyue longe in this kare. Allas, deth! what art thou? Vnnethe may y stonde now: Deth! come forth, and take me anoon; For loste been my wittes euerych oon. Dede y deserue for to bee, Whan y muste loue that hateth me. And herken nowe what seith the wise, That sheweth ensample of good assise: For a fole he seith y him holde, That taketh a more burden than he may welde; So fare y nowe, weleawaye! I loue the loue that y ne haue maye.' To a wyndowe Guy yede thoo, For to beholde the castell and the toure also: 'O toure, thou art full faire sette! In the is that maide beshette, That lyueth in ioye and in blisse: Hir loue me woundeth withoute mysse. O toure, why ne were thou ouerethrawe, And vpon the grounde all to-drawe! Than might y my lemman see, That y loue more than me!' He gynneth him bethinke and sore sighe, His sorowe enneweth euere gretly; To grounde he felle, and swowne beganne: More sorowe had neuere manne. The tyme he cursed that he was borne; For loue he hath his witte lorne. 'O loue,' he seide, 'cursed thou bee! So moche mighte is in the. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Allas, Felice! that same stounde, That euere thy loue hath me so stronge bounde! And that y the serue shulde that daye, Allas the while! nowe y sey maye. Shall y not haue noon other mede, To a-slake my sorowe y had nede. I loue the and thou noughte me. Eeuenly deled ne that may[read ne may that] bee: Of all my sorowe thou hast noughte. Allas! to grounde y am broughte! Thou hast the good and y the quede: I brenne as doth the sparke on glede. Thou art to lither a woman, That for a lokyng the vpon A man shuld dye for that sighte: Mercy, Felice, thou swete wighte! Myn herte is with venym spilde; With blisse nomore it is like bee filde.' Suche lif had Guy sikirly All that weke hoolly. For him his fader was well sory, Sabyne his moder bemeneth Guy, The Erle for him sory was, That it liked noon in that place: Litell and moche, all and some, Guy bemeneth at Frome. THE ERLE did for leches sende To wite of Guyes euyl an ende. The leches to him been goo: Guy they fonde as blak as sloo; Than they asked how it with him stode. 'For hete,' he seide, 'y breide nyghe wode: So mikell hete is in me, That longe y ne may on lyue bee. Hotter y am thanne fire brennyng, Sorowe and woo is my menyng; All my body it hath vnright: Suche lif y lede daye and nyght. After that hete cometh a chele That sore me greueth withoute hele; Than wexe y colder than the yys: Suche maner myn yuel is. . . . . . This is my lif nyghte and daie: No more y kan therof you saie.' THANNE seide that oon, 'a feuer'. it is.' 'Ye,' quoth Guy, 'the leuer me. y-wis.' The leches goth, and Guy leue allone, That rewthfully maketh his mone. 'Now god,' quoth Guy, 'what shall y doo? How longe shall laste me this woo? Why ne may y dede bee, Whan y ne may hir mery yen see, That hath all myn hertis thoughte? And y neuere amysse did hir noughte, Bot oonly that y loue hir well, And euere while y lyue shall. Yf y hir beseche, she woll it telle Hir fader, and than he woll me quelle. And though he it wiste right nowe, a plighte, Nomore than slee me doo he mighte. . . . . . . . . . . Bot y shall goo and speke hir too, And shewe hir my grete woo. Vnder heuen is not so harde thing As is loue in wowyng.' Yet seide he after thanne, 'Though she me blame, noo force y kanne; Bot to hir y shall sey so, That loue me did thider goo.' . . . . . . . . . . Guy with that arisen is, And to the Courte he wente ywis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nowe is Guy to Courte come, As man that was with woo nome; In to an herber he is goo, Felice he fonde therin thoo; At hir fete he him leyde, And than all wepyng to hir he seide: 'Y am come mercy to aske of the; Yf thou woll thou maist slee me; Thy commaundement y wote well y haue broke, Now that y am come before thy loke. And leef me were surely The sorowe that y haue suffred by and by, Stronge peyne sorowe and woo That y for the haue endured eueremoo. Myn herte shall y leue with the: Woll thou or not, so shall it bee; My body farther goo ne may, And my wille lasteth ay. While y lyue, the loue y wille, Whether y saue my self or spille; Thurgh me demed it shall not bee Whiles that lif is within me. The to loue thou may not forbede, With sorowe and woo thou dost me fede. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fro hense foreward it rekketh not me Of my lif how so it bee, Ne of my deth neuere the moo I ne rekke how that it goo, For of this lif y am chekmate.' A-downe he felle swounyng with that; Felice loked vpon him thoo. And behelde his grete woo; Ruthe she had in hir herte Of his sorowe and his smerte. To a maide she seide thoo: 'Take him vp in thyn armes twoo, And ley him vp fro the grounde, Till him bee past that bitter stounde.' . . . . . . . . . . 'By god of heuen,' that maide seide, 'Though y were of the worlde the fairest maide, And the Richest Kyngis Doughter were That in this worlde crowne dooth bere, And he of my loue desirous were, As he is of thine in stronge manere, Ne wolde y him my loue werne, And he me wolde therof lerne. Felice the faire answerd therto: 'Avoide, damesell, why seist thou so? So thou shuld not rede me; Thou art to blame forsothe y telle the. Thou hast ofte herde this speche, That we ne shuld noman beseche, But they shuld beseche women On the fairest manere that they kan, And assaye yf they spede may Either by nyghte or by day.' Guy of swounyng awaked thoo; The maide helde him in hir armes twoo. 'GUYE,' QUOTH Felice, 'thou doost folie: Woll thou for my loue dye? After my fader y woll sende, And telle him euery worde to the ende, That thou him doost grete disworship Whan thou desirest my shenship; In this Courte he shall dampne the Highe to hange, to please me. Guye answerd anone right thoo: 'Now god wolde it might bee so, That of my deth thou might bee the wite! Therof y shulde bee wonder lighte! I am all redy it to fonge, Bee it with right or with wronge; For suche a drinke me is yiue, That y ne kepe noo lenger lyue; Myn hede y shall fayne for the leye, I rekke not what any man seye.' Felice had of him grete ruthe: 'Guye,' she seide, 'thou louest in truthe; To moche thou art thurgh loue assailled, That thy wittes been gretly dismaied. So moche y shall nowe doo for the That more thou maist not bidde me: Ther nys Lady nor man noon, So wide as me might in this Contree goon, And thou loued hir as thou doost me, But she wolde graunte to loue the.' 'Felice,' quoth Guy, 'lete that bee, For thou doost bot scorne me.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Guy,' quoth Felice, 'nowe vnderstonde: My wille y haue to the in this stounde; And take it not for noon vnskille Though y sey to the my wille. I woll loue noo knaue in wone Before that he bee knyght bee-come, Faire and hende and gretly sette by, Of armes good and hardy; . . . . . . . . . . Thanne shall thou haue the loue of me, Yf thou wolbee as y telle the.' THANNE GUY herde that tyding, For ioye his herte beganne to spryng; His loue to hir anone he kaste than, And in-to the Castell forthwith he cam; As sone as he might it doo, To the highe palais he gan goo: Of oon daie hym thoughte ten, That he ne might see his lemman. Whan he him felte hole and suer, To Courte he gooth with gladde cher; Full gladde chere they him made, And thanked god, and were right glade That Guy was to Courte come: Gladde they were all and some. Before the Erle tho come Guy, To him he kneled as to his lorde mighti; 'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'armes y aske the, Yf y bee worthy accepte to bee; Yf it bee thy wille that y theim fonge, And serue the lorde withoute wronge.' THE ERLE Rohaud answerd thoo, 'Blithely, Guy, sithe thou wolt so.' The Erle dooth than apparaille Guyes dobbing withoute faille; He dud him dobbe richely, And with him of his felawes twenty That all good barons sones were, (For Guyes loue he dobbed theim all there) That with the Erle Rohaud had bee longe In seruice, armes for to fonge. It was at the fest of the holy Trinyte, That the Erle dobbed Guy so free, And other twenty for his loue, Good knyghtis [and] barons sones, aboue. Of riche Clothes and sendall Was their dobbyng, thurgh-oute all; Of riche panys of faire grys, And with mantellis riche of pris; Of good armes and stoute stedes, Of all the londe the beste at nedes. Ouere theim all was Guy best dighte, Though he an Emperouris sone had bee righte:' Ther might noon better dighte bee: With all kynnes armes dobbed was he. . . . . . . . . . . Ther ne was squier neither knaue That failled oughte bot he shuld haue. Now is Guy dobbed knyght, Curteis and hende, and of grete myght. Than to Felice he ganne goo, With grete loue he resouned hir thoo: 'Well thou wotest, lemman, that it is so, For the that y haue suffred grete woo In all my body, y the plighte, Thou hast made me passing lighte. Armes y haue for the fonge, The to see me thoughte longe; Now y am at thy wille come, As to hir that y loue most in wone. Than seide Felice, 'ne haste the nought: Yet hast thou noo thing of armes wroughte. Noo better thou art neuere a dele Than thou were before, y preoue it wele, Bot oonly that thou hast newe dobbyng, And knyght art cleped withoute lesyng. Bot whan y may wite and see That thou hast in tormentis bee, And that thou hast knyghtes nome, Castellis and Toures ouerecome, And thurgh all the londe and Contree Thy knyghthode full good knowen bee, And that it bee for thy myghte, And than thou may aske me loue with righte. WHANNE GUY herde Felice so speke, His leue he toke and ganne oute reke; Of Felice he toke his leue anone, And to his Fader he gan gone. 'Sir,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me: I am nowe dobbed as ye may see; Ouer see y woll fare To take lawes and pris there.' Syward his fader answerd his sone, 'God graunte the well ayene to come! Siluer and golde take enowe, As moche as nedeth for thy prowe; At thy wille take with the Hors and harneys and good mayne.' Sywarde clepeth heraude to him, And seide, 'heraude, frende myn, With my sone thou shalt wende In good stede with him to lende. Thou shalt kepe my sone Guy That is yonge knyght and thy nory, For he is bot a yongelyng; I you beteche bothe to heuen King, And the heraude for to kepe; And thy felawes all by hepe, That is Tureld and Vrry, In you y truste sikirly; To-gider with heraude they shull goo, To kepe my sones body fro woo.' 'Sir,' quoth they euerychon, 'Full gladly we woll with him goon.' Knyghtes they were full good, y plighte, Of all the contree the best in fighte. Guy toke of siluer and golde As moche as he haue wolde. To the see they been come, And ouere they saille at Frome; Come they been in-to Normandye, Knyghthode shewyng by and by. At . . . . . [Blank space in MS.] taketh Guy herborough With the richest of that borowgh; Of the best they had enough, Ne was ther noon that it with-drough; For they had enough euere[read ouere?] see, Golde and siluer grete plentee. GUYE HIS hoste cleped him to; Tidinges he asked of him thoo Where that any torment shuld bee, So many sheldes ledde sawe he. 'Sir,' quoth his hoste, 'ne wote ye nought Of a torment that is bethought?' 'Noo,' quoth Guy, 'by Iesu swete, Therof ne herde y neuere yette.' 'Sir,' quoth his hoste, 'and ye woll duelle, All that y wote y shall you telle: A maide brighte and of grete pris, (Of Almaigne the Emperours Doughter she is) A turnement she hath doo cryde, I herde neuere noon suche on this side; For there nys knyghte in all Spaigne, Anone to the see of Britaigne, That of armes aughtis named bee, Bot there his might men shall see. . . . . . . . . . . Of euery londe thider come knyghtes, Proude and bolde, and stronge in fightes, . . . . . . . . . . And they that been of most mighte, Grete worship they shall wynne, aplighte. For that maide y spake of eer, Is the Emperours doughter Reyner; To that turnement he woll bringe that daye (Well may him bee that it wynne maye) A Girfauk all swanne white (Of his better y herde neuere yette) And an hors of grete bountee (It is worthe all a contree) And twoo Greyhoundes that good beewhite grey|hounds, (Their better did ye neuere see); And he that the turnement ouere-cometh all On euery behalue, the pris he haue shall, The White Girfauk and the stede Bothe he shall haue to his mede And the Greyhoundes that so good beth, All shall he haue that best doeth; And that maide that is so free, Bot he haue a lemman that fairer bee.' Whan Guy herde this tyding, Well gladde he was withoute lesyng; Than seide Guy to his feere, 'In good tyme come we here. To morowe as sone as it is daye, We woll doo vs on oure weye.' Guy to his hoste a palfrey yaf For the tidingis that he him tolde hath. On the morowe full tymely On their wey thei dresse theim sikirly, Guy and his feres goode Barons all of kynde blode. Of riding doth they neuere stent Till they come to that turnement. Whan thei thider were come Andread thei sawe there many a semely man. Bothe by Ryuers and by feldes riding Many knyghtes they sawe comyng And whan thei thider all were come, To ioustes they wente than full sone; Oute of the thrange they gan theim dighte, The Barons all of grete mighte. Than asked sir Guy Of a lorde that stode him by: 'Who is nowe that same Knyght That oute of the rowe dooth him dight?' 'I shall telle the: as y wene, That same with the armes shene A Knyght he is of grete pris, And y the swere by seynt Denys, For to iouste he is dighte, And he may fynde any knyghte That ayenst him darre iousty: Therto he maketh him redy.' WHANNE GUYE sawe comyng was Gayer, Redy to iouste he draweth him ner; Oute of the Rowe he dooth him hye, Well he sembled as a knyghte hardye. They smytten than to geders thoo, Full harde strokes they yiuen bothe two. Gaer smote Guy before, Thurghoute the shelde his launce he bore; The launce to-brake, that was so well wrought: The hauberkis were good and failled nought. And Guy to Gaer thoo he smote, That to grounde he felled him fote hote; That hors he taketh by the Reyne And forthe he wendeth with meyne. Tho beganne that turnement: Eche Knyght on other smote good dent; Harde they smyte, y the plighte, Eche to take other they doo their mighte. So many knyghtis Guy toke that daye And thurgh his strength ouerecome that playe, That euery man wondred therof: So many helmes he there all to-drof. That daye satte noman there so faste, Bot that he felled him at the laste. And the Duke Otes of Pauye At Guy he had grete enuye; For pride he wolde with him iousty, And therof hym befelle grete vilanye. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thurgh the shulder Guy him smote, To grounde he felle, god it wote. The Duke Reyner sawe that caas, And therfore he full angry was. Toward Guy he ganne dryue, Him to smyte he hieth bylyue And seide to Guy: 'in euyl stounde Thou gaue Duke Otes a greuous wounde. In euyl tyme thou iousted with him. He is my nyghe germayne Cousyn: I am the Duke Reyner that to the speke; I am come him on the to awreke.' 'I graunte,' quoth Guy, 'so mote y thee. Withdrawe the anone and iouste with me.' Guy to him beganne to smyte And did him not spare bot a lite; An highe he smote him in the shelde, That downe he felled him in the feelde. . . . . . . . . . . The hors by reyne he hath nome, And to the Duke therwith he is come. 'Nowe here thy hors y take the; Yf y haue nede, yelde it me.' And he full well quytte his while, As a good knyght shuld withoute gile; Sone ye may here euery dele How he him it yelde swithe wele. Whan the Duke Otes herde this, Ayenst Guy he come, ywis: 'Sir Knyght, telle thou me Of whennes thou art and what thy name bee.' And Guy answerd than boldely, 'I telle the nowe full truely: Guy of Warrewik men clepe me; I was borne in that Contree.' The Duke of Louayne cometh with this And a good spere in his hande, ywis; To Guy he smote with grete hete, And he to him and wolde not lete: With grete dyntes they to-geder dryueth, That their launces all to-slyuereth. They smyte to-geder harde and wele With their swerdes of good steele. They thirle armes and sheldes also: Stronge fighte ther is betwene theim two. THANNE Heraude of Ardern forth gan springe, And the Duke he mette in his comynge: Farre of his hors he hath him felled All longestreight in the felde. To the Duke Gaudemer than he smote, And of his hors he felled him fote hote: . . . . . . . . . . Well he dooth as knyght hardy. With that cometh to him vrry. Thanne beganne that fighte with swerde: Of suche ye ne haue bot seelde herde. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bot the folke sey of that contree That Guye euer the beste is he. And on morowe for the same The pris he had of that game. Guy is preised on euery side, And on him is tourned all the pride. And, tho come the thirde daye, That euery man shulde wende his weye, There come the Duke Reyner priking, That good knyght was and well doyng. 'Lordynges,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me, Yf y myssey, that it may amended bee. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . This Girfauk and this stede, Thise Greyhoundes shall haue to mede He that theim beste hath gete Is Guy of Warrewik, take ye kepe. And that therto withseith aught, Of bataille ne may he faille naught.' All they seide comenly, 'Thy dome we graunte, sikirly.' Than they cryde as was the lawe That Guy the presenteȝ shuld haue by sothe sawe. Whan they were all went, Guy to his Inne is come, verament, And did him vnarme lightly; For of the turnement he was wery. With this cometh a sergeant ridyng Slie and wise and wele speking; To Guyes Inne he is come, And to Guy he wente right sone. Curteisly Guy he grette: 'Sir Guy,' he seide, 'god the kepe: Thou art holde the best in this borough And in all this londe thurgh and thorough. Thou hast wonne the turnement, Therfore y bringe to the this present In the Maidens behalue Blanchefloure, My lordes doughter the Emperoure: This white Girfauk, the stede also, Thise white Greyhoundes, that good bee bothe two. Hir loue the she graunteth with all than, Bot if thou haue a fairer lemman, Than she that is the toure withynne: This daie thou may hir loue wynne.' Full curteisly answerd Guy: 'Of thise presenteȝ moult graunt mercy, And thanke hir that theim hider sent: Full gladly y resceiue hir present, Hir knyght to bee withoute wronge: I shall hir duely vnderfonge. My leue frende, nowe vnderstonde me: Thou shall doo as y sey the. Thise armes y shall the nowe yiue And make the riche while thou lyue; And all thy felawes that bee with the Riche yiftes they shull haue of me, And doo you y shall grete honour For the Maidens loue Blancheflour.' 'Grant mercy, sir Guy,' seide he; 'For armes y come not to the, And right to the maide y shall wende And telle hir worde and ende, To Blancheflour, that swete thing, And telle hir of the good tyding.' THE YONGE man gooth and Guy lefte there, That is in ioye and not in kare. Two sweynes Guy cleped him to, To theim he seide and bade also, That they with that presentȝ shuld fonde Assone as they might in-to Englonde And presente therwith in his worde The Erle Rouhaude, his kynde lorde. Whan they herde what Guy theim bade, Full redy thei made theim with hert glade. They wente than in-to Englonde: At Warrewik the Erle there they fonde. The White Girfauk and the stede, The two Greyhoundes that by theim yede, To the Erle they made their present; And that Guy it wanne at the turnement All they haue the Erle telde, And that he was the best in the felde, And that he was moste sette by Of all the knyghtis in Normandy, And that the Emperrour doughter with all than Hadde him chose to hir lemman. WHANNE the Erle herde this, Full gladde he was therof, ywis, That Guy so moche preised was. His fader thanked god of that cas: Felice the faire did also, Whan the tidinges were tolde hir to. All his frendes olde and yinge Were full gladde of that tidinge. Tho wente Guy in-to farrer londe Turnementis and ioustes for to fonde. In Almaigne and in Lombardie, In Fraunce and in Normandie. Ther was noo turnement, ywis, Bot he was therat and had the pris. He was oute more than a yere: Thurgh all londes men preised him there And helde him the best vnder sonne. Many a good frende he had there wonne. To [Blank space left in MS.]ayene he is come And with his good hooste his Inne nome. 'SIR,' QUOTH heraude to Guy (His maister he was, a Knyght hardy), 'To Englonde nowe woll we goo: With worship we may it nowe doo; For we haue ouere all bee And the pris wonne in euery contree. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . To the kyng thou shall acqueynte the Of Englond, that is so free, And to the Barons also Wel bee-knowen thou shalt the doo.' 'Maister,' he seith, 'y graunte wele, After the that it bee euery dele; And to-morowe whan it is daye, We woll forthe on oure weye.' Guy aroosse on morowe thoo, And to the see they been goo: Assone as they might, to shippe they wente, And in-to Englond they come in the lente. To kyng Athelston Guy is come, And with him he is aqueynted full sone, With the Erles and Barons also, And full riche yiftes they gaue him tho. To Warrewik than he is fare: The Erle Rohaude he fonde there, That faire vnderfonge him and his feere; For he was him bothe leef and dere. He kissed him full swetely And of his present thanked him hertly. To his lemman he is well-come, And him to kisse she maketh hir bowne. The Erle proferd him siluer and golde, And noothing therof take he wolde. Full gladde is his fader of him And his moder and all his kynne, And all the folke of that Contree Were gladde him for to see. ON A DAYE he is to Felice goo, And full louyngly he seith hir too: 'I am come as thou may see. My lif y haue, lemman, thurgh thee: Ne were thou, lemman, dede y were, My body destroied and leide on bere. Armes y toke for loue of the, Thoo thy wille thou tolde me, That, whan y had armes take, Thou woldest not than me for-sake. And thou hast herde me preised bee In many astraunge contree: Thy loue shuld not me bee werned, For y haue it, me thinketh, ayerned. Sweting, nowe y am come to the, Thy wille therof thou telle me.' FELICE answerd swithe on highe, And iaped not with sir Guye: 'Yet art thou not preised so, Bot y kanne fynde suche other moo. Stronge thou art and of grete mighte, Good and hardy and kene in fighte: And if y the had my loue yiue, And wille it the whiles y liue, Sleuthe wolde the so ouerecome, That thou woldest nomore armes doon, Ne come in turnement nor in fighte. So amerous thou wolde bee anone righte. I shuld misdoo, as thinketh me, And gretly offende ayenst the. . . . . . . . . . . Guy,' quoth she, 'concele y nelle, Bot all the sothe y shall the telle: Thou art me leeuest of other alle, And my lemman y shall the calle; Bot my loue thou shalt not haue For noo thing that thou kan craue, Vnto tyme thou so perilous holde bee And best doyng in euery Contree, That neither by londe nor by water Bee founde in any wise thy better; And whan thou art holde best doynge In armes that man may fynde, That vnder heuen thy better ne bee, My loue than y shall graunte the, For to doo with me thi wille Eerly and late, loude and stille. In other wise, how so it goo, My loue ne shall thou haue ellis neuere the moo.' WHANNE Guy herde Felice speke so, Full depe he ganne sighe tho: 'Now wote y well, thou skornest me, Whan y suche answer haue of the, That y shuld the best bee in felde In fighting with spere and shelde; And so good might y neuere worthe To bee the best vpon the erthe; And in-to straunge londe wende y shall, For thy loue to werke woo ouere all. For doubte of deth y woll not flee: If y dye, it is for the.' Guy of hir toke his leeue on hie, And kissed hir with weping yie. To his Inne he gooth, as y you telle, And there he doth not longe duelle. To the Erle he gan goon To take of him his leeue anoon. Nowe is Guy to Courte come To take his leeue all and some. To the Erle Rohaude he yede thoo, And tolde him what he wolde doo. 'Sir Erle,' quoth Guy, 'y pray the, Leeue to wende that thou yiue me. God to good hauen me sende: Ouer the see y shall wende. Tyme it is that y fonde To wynne pris in straunge londe; For all the gladder ye may bee That men of armes doo preise me; For if ye haue folke of grete mighte, It is to you worship, y you plighte; For the more men woll the doubte Within thy londe and withoute.' 'SIR GUY,' quoth the Erle tho, 'Failleth the aught that y may doo, Golde or siluer or highe stede, To passe the see yf thou haue nede? Sir Guy, lete bee all this, And thou shalt haue all that nedefull is, To chase the herte and the hynde, And to pley vnder the wode lynde: Of all thinge thou shalt haue plentee, And abide at home, y bidde the. We shull wende bothe in feere And pleye vs in wode and by Ryueer. All by tymes thou may ouere wende: Thou hast not soiourned a moneth to the ende.' 'Mikel thanke,' quoth Guy tho; 'For sothe so may it not goo.' His leeue he toke withoute more; The erle it forthoughte full sore. He gooth him to his fader thoo, That for his goyng was full woo: 'Fader,' quoth Guy, 'goo y wille: For noo thing y woll lette by skille; Yiue me leeue, y woll not spare Ouer the See for to fare, To wynne pris and losse also, As a yonge man in his youghte shuld doo. To abide longe in this contree It is not worthe noo thing to me; For a yonge man that is mighti In his youthe shuld make bowne and redy, So that in age he may bee preised, And so to honour to bee arreised. Whiles that y am yonge and lighte, My name y shall encrese by my mighte.' 'LEEF SONE,' he seide, 'lete bee that thoughte: Yet shall thou wende noughte. Thou shalt abide here with me; All the gladder y may bee.' 'Leef sone,' his moder him seide, 'Doo by thy faders rede: Abide with vs here to yere mo, I rede the, sone, thou so doo. Another yere thou may ouere fare. And bot thou doo thus, y dye for care, For we ne haue sones moo: And yf we shuld nowe the forgoo, Gladde ne shuld we neuere bee, Bot for sorowe oure self slee.' Guy answerd with that speche, 'Fader, god y you beteche, And my moder y doo also; For hastely y woll goo.' Guy gooth forth and theim lefte there, That for him in grete sorowe were. To the see he is come, Good wynde he hath nome. Come he is in-to Normandye, Knyghthode he secheth full hastily. Fro thense he wente him in-to Ispaigne And so fro thense in-to Almaigne. At euery turnement Guy hath bee, And moche preised ouere all is he. Fro thense to lombardie he is wente: Ther were ioustes and turnemente, There they did him preise myche, The lombardes him loued in-liche; For he was curteys, large and free, And of moche might and grete bountee. NOWE OF a straunge case y shall you telle, Ye that woll a while duelle, That Guy befell comyng fro a turnement That was withoute Boneuent: In the body he wounded was: Sore it him greued, noo wonder nas. That aspied well the Duke Otoun, That was vntruste and feloun, That he wolde bee a-wreke that daie On Guy of Warrewik, if he maye; For he him wounded at a tournement, As y before tolde verraiment; Therfor Guy was yetwas struck out after yet. him lothe, And full depe he swore his othe That he wolde on him wroken bee Or he wente oute of that contree. Whanne Duke Otes wiste that caas, That Guy so sore wounded was, Than the Erle Lambard he clepid him to, That good knyght was, and bade him goo With .xv. knyghtes stalworthe, That euerich was his armes worthe. In a priue stede he did him hyde, Ther Guye of Warrewik shuld come ride. 'Lordinges,' seide the Duke Otoun, 'Vnderstonde, sires, to my Reesoun: My men ye bee all to me swore, Holde ye shull with me therfore. Myn heste doo ye shall, That y to you now telle woll. Me to awreke ye shull goo On a traytour that is my foo, That is come in-to my londe (Werre he me thinketh to werke with honde), Guy of Warrewik that wounded is With a swerde thurgh the body ywis. On the halidome ye shull swere That in the forest that is full neere, There ye shull you all huyde: As Guy of Warrewik shall come ride, His body on lyue ye shall me bringe, Slee his felawes olde and yinge. I shall him doo in my prison; Ne shall he neuere come to Raumpson. With sorowe and woo he shall ende: Ne shall he neuere thense wende.' 'Sir,' quoth they, 'we woll goo, All thy commaundement for to doo.' They doo theim arme swithe wele Bothe in yren and in stele. To their place they wende snelle, And houed there softe and stille, As Guy of Warrewik shuld come Not knowyng of that wicked treason, Ne of the sorowe neuere the moo, That him was comyng to; For all his felawes that good were, Euerychoon he loste than there, And his owne lif had forlore, Ne were goddis helpe before, Thurgh the traitours that were his foon, That kepte him for to slee anoon. Now cometh Guy softe riding Vpon a litell mule ambling. His wounde greued him full sore, And euere the lenger smerted the more. In pees he wened for to wende, As the traitours were redy him to shende. The helmes they sawe brighte shyne, And anone after befelle theim pyne. 'ALLAS,' QUOTH Guy, 'y am nome! All we been dede thurgh treasoune.' Guy of that Mule alighte, And on his stede lepte, and gan his armes righte, And seide to his felawes all: 'Full deere oure liffis we selle shall. Oure deth is here as nowe, y speke, Bot we manly vs awreke. Eche helpe him self, nowe it thus is, And y shall doo what y may ywis: As dere as y may, y wolle To the traitours lombardes my lif selle.' Than seide heraude thoo: 'For goddis loue hense thou goo. For thy loue we woll dye, Or defende this passage trulye.' . . . . . . . . . . Than Guy answerd anone right, As a good knyght of mikell might: 'Yf ye deye, y shall also; I woll neuere fro you goo.' WITH THAT come a Lombard ride, As a man of grete pride. 'Guy,' quoth he, 'yelde the anone, Or ye bee dede euerychone. To the Duke Otes y haue the plighte, Thy body to bringe him anone righte.' The Lombard was hote withoute lette, And Guy him hath with harme grette; He ne spared for noo drede, That deed he felled him in the mede. 'By the trouth,' quoth Guy, 'that y shall my lemman yelde, Thou shalt not thy trouth to the Duke holde.' To another lombarde he smote anone, That thurgh the body his swerde gan goone: 'Nor thou, traitour, thou ne shall me lede To thy Duke that is so full of quede, Nor to his prisoun for the bee broughte.' Heraude smote to another and spared noughte, That thurgh the swerde glode: Deed he felled him withoute bode. Than come Toraude, a good knyghte: Swithe good he was in fighte. With a lombarde he so mette, And so well he his stroke besette, That the heed fro the body fleighe: He smote his shuldres alowe so neighe. With that come Vrry priking (A better knyght might noman fynde), To a lombarde he smote so, That thurgh the body his swerde gan goo: So he smote him, the sothe to sey, That deed he felled him in the wey; And than he seide: 'thou ne Otoun Ne shall vs bringe in-to your prison.' There might men see fighte begynne, Hedes clouen downe to the chynne. All that Guy with his swerde toke, Sone anone his lif forsoke. Some he smote vpon the hode, That at the girdelstede the swerde abode; Some he smote thurgh the side, That they ne might neuere more goo nor ryde. Was there noon that might stonde The dynte that come oute of his honde. So mighti strokes ther were yiue, That the stronge shaftes all to-dryue. There was noon in that stede Bot of his lif he was adredde. With that come ride the Erle Lambard, A sterne knyght and a Lombard; Vrry he hath sleyne there, That forthoughte Guy whan he therof was ware: With the Erle lambard he did iousty, To awreke the deth of good Vrry. With suche an hete he smote him to, That all his armes auailled him not a sloo; Thurgh his herte the launce he bare, And adown he felled him dede there. With that cometh forth hugon, He was the Dukes Nieue Otoun: Knyght he was of grete mighte, Swithe hardy and good in fighte. Toraude there he hath felled, And to deth stiked him thurgh his sheelde. And whan heraude saw that cas, That Toraulde so foule sleyne was, For his deth he was sorye: Him to awreke he doth him hye. Neuere so sory he was, Toward hugon he made a chas. . . . . . . . . . . Thurgh the body he him smote With so grete strength, god it wote, That there before the Lombardes all Of his hors he did him dede fall. Whan Danz Gauter that sighe (A knyght he was of herte highe), Ouere thwertMS. thewert. he smote to Heraude so That all his hauberk he rende thoo; Thurgh heraudes body the swerde yede, All they wende he had bee dede. Whan Guy sawe heraude felde, To-hewe his hauberk and his shelde (And of his hors felled he was As a dede man vpon the gras), And sawe the blode that ranne him fro, Wonder he thoughte, and seide thoo: 'Thou lordyng, to the y seye, His deth thou shalt full dere abeye! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And by him that made sone and mone, Thou shalt wite swithe sone That thou shalt it forgete nought That thou him hast to deth brought.' Guy with spores smote his stede, As a man that had grete nede. . . . . . . . . . . Than with all his mighte he smote him to, Full euen he karffe his herte in two. . . . . . . . . . . And ther in grene he felled him downe, And bade him Cristes malesoune, For that he did heraude slee, And lete him on lyue bee. NOWE IS Guy full harde befalle, Loste he hath his felawes alle; So sory he is, he ne wote what to doo, And hene? woteth to whom he may bemene hym to. Bot three of the Lombardes on lyue ther were, That vpon Guy thoughte grete deere. Tweyn of theim were hoole and sounde, The thridde thurgh the body had a wounde. Guy with his swerde that oon raughte, That his hede fleighe of with a draughte. With that come priking Dan Guychard, He was a full proude Lombarde. 'Guy,' he seide, 'yelde the to me! Thou seest it woll noon other bee. All thy men fro the been refte: Sauf thy self is noon lefte, And thyn helme is all to-hewe, Thyn hauberk to-tore that was newe; Wounded thou art, well y see, That longe thou maist not alyue bee. This daie y shall the bringe to Duke Otoun, And he the shall doo in his prisoun.' Than seide Guy, 'Guychard, y nelle Yelde me to Otes by my wille, While y haue my swerde grounde And my body stiffe to sitte astounde.' Guychard smote Guy with grete mighte Vpon his helme that shone brighte, That a quarter awey fleighe; The knyght was stronge, hardy, and sleighe. Vpon the shoulder the swerde glode, Of the hauberk he toke an handbrode; God saued Guy that he was not dede, Ne for that stroke had noo quede. To Guychard he fondeth to smyte, And his swerde woll aughte byte. . . . . . . . . . . To him he striketh swithe smerte Thurgh the body well nyghe the herte: That good swerde in he thurste, Guychard to abide noo lenger had luste, Bot tourned his hors and gan to flee, And Guy after him faste rode he. Good was that hors that Guychard rode on, Guy wente ayene and lete him goon: For that he ne might him ouere-take, Full grete sorowe Guy gan make. GUYCHARD fleying toke his wey Toward Pauy, as swithe as he may. The Duke Otes fro huntyng come, And with him Barons and knyghtis many oone. A knyght he sawe come priking With armes rende, his woundes bledyng. The Duke Otes duelled athrowe, Tyll Guychard he might knowe: Him thoughte he semed a man aferde, Or that harde tidynges had herde. With that is Guychard to theim come; The Duke him asked full sone, 'Sey, Guychard, who hath wrathed the? Where hast thou in bataille bee? Where is Guy? is he nome? Quykke or dede lete him to me come.' 'I shall you telle sikirly As moche as y wote of Guy: At a Forde we him mette, And strongly we him besette, And his body ne toke we nought: All we been to deth brought; Bot y am eskaped as ye may see.' 'My Nieueu hugon, where is he?' Quoth the Duke Otes, 'telle thou me.' 'In the playne he lieth sleyn pardee.' 'And the Erle Lambard, the good knyght?' 'Deed he lieth in that fighte.' WHANNE the Duke Otes herde that, Full sory he was for that myshap, For his folke were so sleyne, And thurgh Guy broughte fro lif to peyne. For sorowe he waxe all-moste wode, His herte to-berste well nyghe for mode. . . . . . . . . . . NOWE GUY maketh sorowe pitously, And for his felawes wepeth gretly. 'Allas,' quoth Guy, 'felawes dere, So well doyng knyghtis as ye were. . . . . . . . . . . For thy loue, Felice, faire may, Floure of knyghtis is sleyn this day. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nowe all other may by me, Yf they woll, warned bee. Allas, heraude, my dere frende, That were so curteys and so hende, Who shall me helpe now in fighte? In the worlde nas a better knyghte. In euery place full well thou holpe me, Euyl y haue it acquytte the; For me thou hast thy lif forgoon, Of the nomore helpe shall y haue noon. A-cursed bee thise Lombardes echoone, That slowe the, and lete me goone.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What for his woundes that greuously bledeth, And what for sorowe that he fredeth, Thus for sorowe and for woo Adowne he felle in swounyng thoo. Whan he of his swounyng was awaked, Vp he stode, his sorowe not slaked. Than he worthe vpon his stede, And to an hermytage he gan him spede. 'Heremyte,' quoth Guy, 'come with me, And this hors of pris y yiue to the. Twoo bodies thou shalt in erthe graue, That in this forest their dethes haue.' 'Blithely, sir,' seide than he; 'Wende forthe, y shall folowe the.' Than the bodies him shewed Guy Of Toraulde andand added over the line. of good Vrry. Sithe he toke another stede, And Heraude with him he dooth lede, And rode him forthe all softely: For him he wepeth full hertly, For he wende in sothe there That heraude to deth wounded were. NOWE IS Guy forthe fare, And for his felawes maketh grete kare. Heraudes body with him he dooth bere Forto burye it ellis-where. He wente him to an Abbey That was ther beside the highe wey. The Abbot Guy there he mette, And full pitously he him grette: 'Sir Abbot,' he seide, 'god the blisse That man made for his owne, ywis: All for loue of the Trynyte I the beseche, for sainte Charite, That thou this body here, loo, In a faire buriel thou hit doo. Full well y shall it yelde the, And yf y any while lyuyng bee.' 'What art thou?' quoth the Abbot, 'telle me.' 'Blithely, sir: y sey the, I am a knyght of farre Contree; At a passage assailled were we Of stronge theeffis and outelawes, That my felawes haue broughte to dethis dawes; And y meself haue many a wounde, That y wene y shall lyue noo stounde; And if y lyue, y shall yelde it the, The trauaille that thou doost for me.' To Guy answerd the Abbot tho: 'All thy wille, sir, shalbee doo.' Nowe gooth Guy sore dismaide, His woundes haue him sore affraide. To an heremyte he is goo, That he was acqueynted with or thoo; His woundes hele there he dedde Withoute noyse in that stede; For moche he dredde the Duke Otoun, Full of hatrede and of treasoun. NOWE THE Abbot of wom y you telle, Of heraude hath grete reuthe with-all; He lete bere his bodye In-to a Chambre to vnarme lightly; And whan they had vnarmed him A monke behelde euery lymme. The same monke a phisician was, The mighte he knewe of many a gras. The woundes he behelde stedefastly, That in the body were so grisely. By the woundes he sawe ywis That he to deth ne wounded is, And that [he] him hele might; And so he dooth sothely aplight. In the meane tyme, ye may me leue, Guy was heled and toke his leue Of the good heremyte and wente his wey Toward Poyle right as he may. To the king of Poyle he was welcome, And that he knewe full sone. Of siluer he bade him and of golde, And Guy therof nought take wolde. At euery place in turnement Guy had the pris verament. Was ther noon in all the londe, That Guyes dyntes might withstonde. Therfor men loued him swithe, And vnderfange him full blithe; With all good men he was leef and dere, And therwith-all their pleyfere. At the king he toke his leeue thoo; In-to Cessoigne he is goo. He is come to the Duke Reyner, That him loued and had full deer; And he him fange full worshipfully, And did him honour full manly. So longe in the Contree ther his duelling is, That ouere all other he bereth the pris. Guy him bethoughte thoo That he had enough ther doo: To Englonde he thoughte to wende, For to speke with his frende; For it was agoo .v. yere That he was laste there; In lasse stounde than that was Befalleth many a wonder cas. Thurgh the contrees as he hath wente, Quenes and Contasses for him hath sente, And noon he wolde sikirly Bot Felice that he loued so hertly. What for his mikell goodnesse, And for his might and large prowesse, Ther nys knyght that so moche preised bee Anone to Antioche, that good Citee. Guy him spedde nyghte and daie, Toward Englond he toke his weye. OFF GUY y shall leue nowe, And a litell while telle yow Of heraude another stounde, How he was heled of his wounde. Whanne he felte him-self hooll and quarte, Of the Abbot he toke his leeue and did departe; His lorde Guy he gooth seching Nighte and daye for him bidding, As Guy toward Englond toke his wey: Crist him saue that best may! At a pynacle of the see He sawe a man sitte of ruly blee In a pouere pilgrymes wede, And that was heraude veraily in-dede. Anone Guy cleped to him, And seide, 'of whens art thou, pilgrym?' 'Sir,' he seide, 'fro Lombardie.' 'What tydingis there?' quoth sir Guye. 'By god,' quoth heraude, 'y kan noone; For many a daie it is goone That y loste my kynde lorde That good knyght was, at a worde. Betraye vs did the Duke Otoun: Haue he cristis malison! Therfor in this wise y shall goo, And bidde for my lorde euere moo.' 'Sey me, pilgrym,' quoth Guy, 'truly, What height that man that thou loued so hertly?' 'Guy of Warrewik was his name: A knyght he was withoute blame.' With that he gan sighe sore: He wepte and seide 'allas' euermore; He might it noo lenger kepe in holde. Guy full ruly he gan him beholde. 'Good man,' quoth Guy, 'for thy leaute, What is thy name? telle thou me.' 'Heraude of Ardern men clepe me In contrees there as y haue bee. .V. yere y haue thus goo Seching my lorde Guy that y loued so.' Whan Guy herde heraude so speke, Of his teres he gan downe reke. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Allas, heraude, maister myn! Knowest not Guy, a felawe of thyn?' 'Certes,' quoth heraude, 'sir, nay: Dede he was goon many a day.' And he answerd, 'y am Guy.' 'A, sir,' quoth heraude, 'mercy.' As sone as heraude vnderstode That he was Guy, the knyght goode, In swowe he felle adowne anone, And Guy in his armes him toke full sone. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adowne they sette theim bothe there, And tolde eche other of their kare. Sir Guy hath heraude telde How he him bare oute of the felde, For to burye him at an Abbey That was there beside the highe wey. And than heraude he him teelde How his woundes were heled, And thurgh how many londes he had goo Seching his lorde Guy with sorowe and woo. THEIR HORS they toke after this, And rode to the next Citee ywis; There did Guy Heraude in herbes bathy, And with good metes him comforte hertly. Fro thens they wente to the Duke Mylone, To whom they bothe were welcome. Of their auentures they tolde there, And thanked good in many maner. At the Duke they toke their leeue thoo, Toward Englond they gan goo. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . To seynt Omers is Guy come, And heraude with him all and some. Towarde the see they take their wey, As swithe as the hors theim bere may. Whan they to the Town were come, Their Inne they take full sone. To a wyndowe is Guy goo, Into the strete he behelde thoo; A palmer he sawe comyng, Easely by the wey goyng. To him than cleped Guy, And curteisly he gan him asky, 'Woll thou herburgh? for it is nyghte; For fa[r]t[h]er thou ne goo myghte.' The palmer answerd to Guy, 'Sir,' quoth he, 'grauntmercy.' To sitte downe Guy gaue him leeue, Farther he ne might, it was nyghe eeue. Than he praide him he wolde him sey Some tidingis, yf he kouthe, of the Contrey, Yf he herde nyghe or farre Speke of bataille or of werre. 'I shall telle,' quoth he, 'fote hote Of grete werre that y wote: Of a strenger y haue not herde; Therof is many a man ferde.' Guy him seide, 'telle it me.' 'Forsothe y graunte,' seide he. 'Of Almaigne the Emperour, Reyner, that is of grete honour, The Duke of Louaigne hath bee-sette, His Castellis destroied withoute lette; For his Neuyeu that he slowe, He hath wroughte him moche woo nowe. All-moste a yere it is goo, At a turnement that is doo, The Duke Segwyn was ther thoo, That all louaigne belongeth vnto, With all the knyghtes of his londe That thider come their might to fonde. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Whan the Emperour herde that cas, That his neuyeu so slayne was, Ouer all his londe he bade his hooste To come to him for his socour moste; And whan they all assembled were The Duke of Louaigne he besegeth there: He ne woll thense goone, Till the Duke bee dede or noome.' WHANNE the pilgrym had all telde, Guy him herkened and well behelde. He bethoughte than full yerne, Yf he might goo forthe or ayene tourne. Than seide he to Heraude, 'what rede ye? Good counsaille, sir, y pray the, Yf we in oure wey forthe goo, Or to the Duke wende and socour him doo. What thou me redest y doo shall; Thy counsaille y woll not forsake at all.' Than seide heraude y-wis, 'I yiue the counsaille that good is; Him to helpe ye shall the better spede, And also therfor haue grete mede: A good name and pris thou may ther wynne, And worship to the and all thy kynne.' 'Sir heraude,' quoth Guy the good, 'That lorde that deide on the Rood Blisse nowe and saue the, For good counsaille thou yiuest me.' Guy him thanked and made him yare Streighte to Louaigne for to fare, And with him other fifty knyghtes, The beste that might bee in any fightes. Come they bee right to raumpsome, To the Duke they bee full welcome. In the Citee they haue their Innes take; Gladde were many for their sake. Guy on the morowe aroosse thoo, Right to Chirche he is goo. Masse and matyns he herde there And after to his Inne did fare. . . . . . . . . . . Guy to his hooste than seide, 'What is all this? thou me rede. Bele hooste, sey thou me, What may all this doyng bee?' 'I shall the telle,' seide he, 'And noo worde concele fro the; This is the Emperours stywarde, That good knyght is and noo cowarde (Fro hense to Ispaigne his better nys), And with him grete companye ywis, An hondred of knyghtes stronge, That noon better wepon doo fonge. All this Citee they haue besette: It to destroye they woll not lette, Nor noo man eskape or nome Or sleyne certaine full sone. THANNE seide Guy, 'Lordingis and knyghtis, Ayenst theim lete we dresse vs.' Anone they haue theim in wey doon. The Styward sawe theim anoon: Thiderwardes he him dighte, As a knyghte of grete mighte. His armes faste he gan arraye, For formest Guy he thought assaye. To-geder anone they gan smyte, Eche spared other bot alyte. Guy first to him smote, That of his stede he felled him, god it wote, And thanne he smote him with a swerde brown, That a quarter of his helme he felled down. So thurgh grete strength ther he [is] nome, And by treuthe his plighte man is become. Whan the Almaignes that seye That stronge were and in fighte full sleye, That their lorde was take in that fighte, AndThey! prikke awey with all their mighte. There was perced many a shelde, Or they were past all the felde. Than Guy ayene wente full sone, And his felawes with him echone. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Almaignes they haue ouere-come, Some sleyne and some nome. . . . . . . . . . . There Guy and his felawes in that stede All their prisouners with theim lede. To the Citee they wente anoon, Eche to his Inne forth is goon. Proude they were all and some That the Almaignes been ouere-come. Whan the Duke herde that tydinge, For ioye his herte gan to springe, That Guy of Warrewik was come, And the Styward had so nome. On a good stede he lepe anone, And to Guyes Inne he is goone. 'Guy,' he seide, 'thou art welcome, As in the worlde of all christenMS. xpen'. men Ouer all other y haue desired the: God thanked mote he bee That thou art to me come, For nowe y drede nooman. . . . . . . . . . . Lorde and sire y make the Of my toure and of my Citee, My castellis and my londe therto eke; And henseforeward y the beseke That the lordship thou haue also, And all thy wille therwith doo; For by thy counsaille y woll doon, For to greue my dedely foon.' Full curteisly than answerd Guy And seide, 'sir duke, graunt mercy. With my mighte y shall helpe the In euery stede where that y bee.' Than the Styward he behelde swithe, Of whom he was full gladde and blithe; Thurgh him he hopeth accorded bee With the Emperour, his lorde free. Betwene theim two they teld the tale: Now yiue vs drinke wyne or ale. NOWE sendeth Guy his sonde aboute After good men withoute doubte In-to Contrees that he hath thurgh-wente. Grete multitude he hath for-sente, Of knyghtes and barouns bolde The beste that wepon in hande may holde. . . . . . . . . . . The Castellis and the townes that loste were, The duke wanne ayene in that yere Thurgh Guyes helpe in that stede With his felawes that helped well at nede, By him and his counsaille also Fro thense foreward woll him trouthe doo. WHANNE the Emperour herde this, That Guy of Warrewik with the duke is, And that he hath his men ouerecome, His men sleyn and the Styward nome, Wrothe and sory he was therfore, That he his men so hath lore. To his barons than he seide: 'How shall we doo, and what is your rede? I shall neuere bee gladde nor blithe, Bot it bee awreke right swithe Of Segwyn and of Guy also, That my folke haue brought in woo;' And commaunded his dukes and barons all To bee redy in armes at euery call. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir,' quoth they, 'we woll goo All thyn heste for to doo.' So they haue their w[ey]two letters illegible. nome, And to Ransone they bee come. Whan they of the Citee wiste them there, Ayenst theim they dressed in their gere: Hastely to armes they bee goo, Knyghtis and squiers bothe twoo; And whan they were all redy And well dighte on either party, The duke cleped heraude him to And swetely to him seide tho: 'Sir heraude, thou shalt fonge Foure hundred of knyghtis good and stronge (Thou shalt yiue the first assaute Vpon the Almaignes, sir heraude); And thou, sir Guy, an hundred to the Of all my londe the best that bee, And if heraude haue nede, Him to helpe fast thou spede; And y shall come withoute delaie With all the strength that y maye: To-geder with theim we woll fighte And theim ouere-come with goddis mighte.' And as they seide so haue they doon, And doo theim assaille right anoon. Heraude him gooth first to assaily, That fighte for to meyntayny. Of the duke Otes heraude is vndernome In the vawarde, as it is aboute come. . . . . . . . . . . Heraude to him seide: 'thou Otes of Pauye, Vnderstondest not of that felonye That thou in lombardie didest, Whan thou my lorde and me betraidest? A-wreke we shull therof now bee, Yf god woll, or the sonne couere hir blee.' Otes answerd: 'thou liest on me, And that y shall preoue on the.' . . . . . . . . . . To-geder they smyte with good wille, That bothe of their hors they felle. Than they drawe their swerdes kene, And hewe to-geder sharply, y wene. The duke him tempteth mightly, And heraude him assailleth strongely: Thurgh the feelde he gooth him dryuyng. With that cometh his folke priking, That their lorde reskewe there, And heraude to take they angry were: Bot heraude vpon him werred strongly. With that cometh his folke hastely: With strength they bee forthe goo, And heraude they broughte on hors thoo. Than gan they to-geder smyte: Noon spared other bot a lite. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The duke Otes had sorowe gretly, Whan he sawe his folke sleyn so greuously, And seide to his felawes thoo: 'Lordinges, what shall we nowe doo? See ye not here a man, by name, That me dooth harme and moche shame, That hath nyghe sleyne all my men, Youre frendes and your kynnesmen? Bot ye on him some wreke doo, I shall you neuere loue moo.' With that they assembled echoon, And to heraude they smyte anoon. There is heraude mysse bee-falle: Loste he hath his men alle, And recouere he shall sone this; For grete socour him cometh ywis. Heraude they dryue strongely, And he werred on him hardily. Whan Guy sawe heraude comyng, Oute of that stronge fighte fleyng, His helme to-dasshed in stedes moo, His sheelde to-hewen all-moste in twoo (And his hors wounded sawe he: In stronge fighte he had bee): With loude steuene than he yede To the Duke and made assaute full quede. He rescowed heraude in the felde, And the other they toke and helde. Whan Otes sawe sir Guyon Come rennyng to him as a lyoun, With highe voice he gan vpbreide, And to the Duke Otes thus he seide: 'Thou false and disceyuable traitour, Full litell thou thoughte on thyn honour, Whanne thow bee-traidest me, And dud my men with sorowe slee In the forest of playnes, as y forthe come With my felawes, good knyghtes echoone. Fro hense forewarde, y telle the, Thy dedely foo y shalbee. In good poynte to bee y am not like, TilleThille MS. y haue thyn hede of strike.' With that either of theim pricked his stede, And in grete wrathe to-gider yede. Otes smote Guy in the sheelde, That euen half flowe in the felde, And Guy gaue Otes a wounde: Thurgh his theighe he thruste his swerde grounde, And his hede he had him benome, Had not grete socour to him the rather come. Two hundred knyghtes assailled Guy, And him wolde haue sleyn wilfully, And he him defended as a man: All that he smote woo theim beecam. There they haue their lorde redde, And all wounded oute of the place ledde. Guy the Almaignes before him wreketh: Many he taketh, and many he sleeth. Guy theim driueth, and fast they flee, As folke that greuously ouerecome bee. WITH THAT come the Duke Reyner, And the Constable sir Gaudemer: In a slade they metten Guy, And strongly on him sette they; And Guy him drowe toward the Roume, And all his felawes that with him come; For ther were a thousand knyghtes With theim to mete anone Rightes. 'Lordinges,' quoth Guy, 'herken to me: Thise knyghtis bee comyng as ye may see, The Duke Reyner of Cessoigne And the Duke Gaudemer of Coloigne. In euery side we bee-sette bee, So that we may not hense flee; And though we might y nelle; For forsothe, y shall you telle, Better it is to dye manly Than to flee with shame and vilanye.' All they answerd in that stede, 'With the we woll abide veraily in dede.' To-gider they smyte than faste: Of the Almaignes they were not agaste. There they beganne all newe fighte, Wher-thurgh deide many a good knighte. Guy gooth to smyte Duke Reyner, And of his stede he felled him ther. Heraude smote to Gaudemer there, And oute of his sadell he did him bere. With that cometh forth Gilmyn: Besibbe he was the Duke Segwyn. Than duke Botolf he smote so, That of his hors he felled him tho. Whan that sawe Duke Reyner And the Constable Gaudemer, Before theim their folke sleyne, With grete sorowe and with peyne Their voices lowde they greyde, And assembled ayene with their ayde. With that come the Duke Reyner, And Gilemyn he mette ther, So that the swerde longe and brode Thurgh-oute his hepe it glode. Gilemyn with-drowe abacke fleyng, Ayene-warde faste priking, And is to Duke Segwyn come: Well he him knewe right sone. 'Sir Duke,' quoth Gilemyn, Thou abidest to longe, by seynt Martyn. Socour thy folke, and that blyue: The Almaignes begynne fast on vs dryue.' Whan the Duke of Gilemyn this herde, And of his folke how it ferde, He smote his stede and gan to goon, To his men he seide anoon: Barons, knyghtis, strengthe you Guy wele to socour now; For and Guy bee dede or nome, All we bee thanne ouercome.' With that come the Duke dryuyng, And the Almaignes fast assailling. The Duke a knyghte smote anone, That dede he did him to grounde goon. Guy they socour well with all: Many a good knyght he did dede down fall. On either side they foughte wele With their launces and swerdes of stele: They smote of hedes, armes, and honde; All to-hewen they lye in the sonde. With that cometh Duke Reyner, Sleyne he hath the good Gayer: In fraunce he was borne, Guyes feere; To Guy he was leef and dere. Whan Guy that sawe he was sory: To the Duke he smote greuously, That of his stede he felled him downe; And than he drowe his swerde browne. Suche a stroke he smote him vpon That dey he wende forth-with anoon. Sone there beganne a straunge shoure: To-geder they smyte knyghtis of valoure. So many strokes yiuen thou might see Of the knightis that smote so free: Bothe with spere and with swerde They yiue many strokes and harde. Ther men might see straye many a stede, And many a knyght shriche and grede. Wherto shuld y make a tale of nought? The Almaignes were to deth brought. NOWE BEEN the Almaignes ouere-come, To dethe wounded, and greuously nome. Toward their hooste they goo fleyng, The Duke and Guy after theim dryuyng. With that come priking Terry full sone, Of Gornoyse Aubries owne sone, OfWith? thirty Knyghtis swithe and snelle Of his owne meyne hardy and felle: All they come armed the hooste fro, The Almaignes socour for to doo. There they haue theim mette: With loude steuene withoute lette, 'Lordingis,' he seide, 'how goo ye? Ayene wende nowe with me To assaille eftsones your foon, Of whom ye bee ouerecome echoon, Or y woll telle the Emperour That ye haue him doo grete dishonour, Whan ye for a few men Shull so swithe awey fleen.' Ayene they tourned anone righte, And begonne there a grete fighte. Terry beganne a knyghte to smyte, Semblant of loue he made a luyte. Hertely to him smote Gyoun; His shelde auailled him not a botoun. . . . . . . . . . . Harde strokes they to-geder deelde On helmes and on stronge sheelde; So harde they striken theim betwene, That goolde and stones falle ther been. . . . . . . . . . . Thanne come the Duke Segwyn, Longe ne might he withholde him; To-gider they smyte harde and wele With swerdes well wrought of stele. Than he tourned his stede Tirry, As a good knyght, and a mighti, And bakward smote to a knyghte, That dede he falled him anone right. Whan the Duke Segwyn sawe this, Full wrothe he was ywis, And all wrothely seide to Guy, 'This is grete scorne sikirly, Whan all him self oon knyghte Shall vs doo this grete vnrighte.' Guy answerd, 'tourne ayene, And hardily assaille theim; For better it is manly dede bee Than with shame awey to flee.' The Almaignes they goo to assailly, And with grete strength ouerecome bee they. Tirry to theim was euere meuyng, And with his swerde gretly harmyng. Now goo the Almaignes fast fleyng, And in their fistes their swerdes bering. The Duke Segwyn ayene come, And lete theim passe their wey home. THANNE the Almaignes were thus wente Discomfited in the feelde and shente, The Duke Segwyn than wente, as ye may see, The right wey to the Citee; And Guy of Warrewik with him is goo, And all their felawes with theim also. With theim they lede their prisounes,prisouners MS. Dukes, Erles, and also Barounes. Full glad and blithe all they bee, And all that were in the Citee. To their Innes they bee goon Full gladde and ioyefull euerychoon. The Duke him wente to his toure: His prisouners he lokked with grete honoure Than,The? Duke Reyner of Cessoigne, And the Erle Waldemer of Coloigne, And with theim Conrad the Stywarde, That good knyght was and not a-ferde. With him to ete he theim dude, And gretly theim he than worshipped. The Duke his Suster cleped him to, The fairest maide that on erthe might goo. 'Thise prisouners thou take to the, And in thy Chambre thou kepe theim me, . . . . . . . . . . And ouer all other the Duke Reyner, That to me is leef and deer.' 'Sir,' she seide, 'y shall so To kepe theim my might doo.' AND THE Emperour Reyner free Of this combraunce ne wiste he. With a King he pleide at ches Of Hungrye, that he loued y-wis. With that come Terry priking, And in his honde his swerde bering: His harneis was all to-tore, And his vomrell aualed before; Thurgh his body the blode ranne, And Terry made noo semblant thanne: His stronge shelde all to-hewen was, That skantly any hole pees nas. 'Emperour,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me: Harde tydingis y telle the Of thy Barons that taken bee; Ne shall they neuere come more at the. Some bee dede and leyde to grounde, And some smitten with dethes wounde. Take is the duke Reyner, And of Coloigne the Erle Waldemer; The Duke of pauye wounded is With a swerde thurgh the body ywis: Of deth he dredde him sore, To eskape he weneth nomore.' WHANNE the Emperour herde tho What the Erle Tirry tolde him to, Full sory he is, and wrothe therfore: All-moste he hath his witte forlore. Swore he hath a full grete othe: By god all-mighti and forsothe, Neuer glad shal bee he, For that Citee take bee, And till the traitours bee slawe, In fire brende, or all quykke drawe. His trompettis he bade blowe anone, And his hooste to harneys echoone. . . . . . . . . . . The feldes sone they haue thurgh-goon: Downes ne valeis they spared noon, Till they come before the Citee. Gonrande than forthe yede he With .v. hundred of orped knyghtes, That hardy were and well doyng in fightes. All that thoo were in the Citee, Vpon the Almaignes gan beholde and see: They sawe the Contrees couered and the felde With white hauberkes, speres, and shelde. The duke him come forth with that, Well armed vpon a good stede he sat: 'Guy,' he seide, 'what shall we doo? Yf we goo to smyte theim too?' . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir,' seide Guy foot hote, 'Full well thou shalt doo, y it wote. Woll we take a thousand knyghtes, And goo theim assaile anone rightes. Before the Citee y see stonde here Gaier, the Emperours sone Reyner, And .v. hundred knyghtis at his lede, Full well armed vpon their stede. Before their hoost they bee come: Lete vs theim assaille now full sone. Yf we of socour haue any nede, Ayenewarde we mowe vs sone spede.' . . . . . . . . . . Than oute of the Citee bee they goon Full swithe hasty right anoon, The Almaignes for to assaille: Therof they thinke not to faille. To geder they smyte harde and swithe, Of hors they felle many a sithe. Guy dooth smyte to Gaier, And felled him downe right ther, And so toke him ther in that fighte: The other flowen anone righte. Toward the hoost they flee, y you telle, The other after, theim to quelle. . . . . . . . . . . Whan they of the hooste sawe this, That their folke so ouere-come is, And that ther was in that fighte nome Gaier, the Emperours sone, Than hasted they of the hoost echoon, Vpon Segwyn they smyte anoon: Begonne they haue a full stronge fighte, Wher-thurgh deide many a knyghte. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . With that come priking Tirry, That good knyght was and hardy: To the duke Segwyn he smote, That langestreighte he felled him fote hote; And the Duke anone vpsterte, As he that wrothe was in herte, And smote aboute with his swerde of stele, And as a man defendeth him wele. . . . . . . . . . . Tirry him assailleth sharply, And the Almaignes forth-with him hastely: . . . . . . . . . . In many places wounded is he, That all-moste he weneth dede bee. Whan Guy sawe the Duke afote, For sorowe ne wiste he noomaner bote: There he smote to a knyght, That dede he felled him anoon right. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Duke he sette his stede vpon, And gooth to assaille than their foon. Fro thense woll they neuere drawe, Till they the Almaignes haue slawe. The Almaignes on theim pursewe so stronge, That it endure they might not longe. SIR DUKE Segwyn,' seide Gyoun, 'Vnderstonde to my reesoun: To the Cite ayene y rede we goo, For well we may it nowe doo; . . . . . . . . . . For, and we here any lenger duelle, For fooles we may oure-self telle; For they been fourty ayenst vs oon.' Withoute moo to the Citee they bee goon, And at all houres defended theim, And so refresshed theim-self and their men. Whanne the Emperour herde this, That his sone so taken is, With lowde steuene than commaunded he His folke in haste to assaille that Citee With shotte of bowe and arblaste, With swerdes and speres shete and kaste; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bot they within defende theim a-right, And they withoute yelde theim euere grete fight: Bot the Almaignes that daie there With grete sorowe sleyne were, . . . . . . . . . . And at Euen they been withdrawe: The Emperour was sory in his sawe, That he ne mighte of the Citee spede, Ne awreke him at his nede. Bot for all that the Citee euery day fourtnyght They dud assaille with grete myght, And the Duke, Guy, and heraude Mightly withstode their stronge assaute: Moche folke of his slowen they, Wherfor he was in herte sory. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WHANNE the Emperour herde him speke so, And so grete loue shewe him to, The king of hungry he cleped him to, And sir Tirry of Gurmeyse also: 'Lordinges,' he seide, 'what shall we doo? Rede ye that we thider goo?' Than seide Terry to the Emperour: 'The Duke you dooth grete honour, Whan he his Citees and Castellis echoone, That stronge been of lyme and stoone, All deliuere at thyn owne wille (Thanke thou owest him by reason and skille), And at thy wille his body doo. Wende ye thider, y rede you so; For, if he doo as thise men haue highte, More Worship the doo he ne mighte; For with strength thou getest this profre neuere, With all the power that thou kan keuer.' 'I woll,' quoth the Emperour, 'that it so bee, Bot that y him nought see, Till y haue counsailled me With my barons that in their hostage bee.' With that they gynne for to wende, And of accorde speke the knightis hende. To Ransone they bee come, And richely there they bee vnder-noome; And Guy him dresseth with all his might Well to serue bothe baron and knight: Ther was yoman ne swayne noon, Bot Guy theim yiftes yaue good woon. Whan it was nyghte, to bedde they goo, And erly arise withoute moo. To the Chirche the Emperour is goo, For to here his masse tho. His eerles and barons aboute him gan stonde, That were of many dyuerse londe; And the Duke there was nought, For the Emperour hym hated in his thought. The same daye tymely The Duke aroosse full eerly: Rewthfully he dighte him there In his sherte allone with open heere: A stronge roope he toke thoo, And aboute his nekke he gan it doo. Than to his prisouners he is goon, And theim dooth reson oon by oon: 'Lordinges, barouns, y bidde you, That ye woll prey for me now To our lorde, so well ye may, That he me foryiue this same day His wrathe and his male-talent.' And all they him graunte with oon assent. Than he threwe his mantell of: Many man had grete rewthe therof. In his sherte he stode allone: For him was made mikell mone. To the Emperour he gooth soo, An Olyue boughwe in his handes twoo, That pees shuld beetoken betwene theim. All weping his wey forth he doth kenne. Thurgh the strete barefote he gooth And barehede in his sherte forsoth With a roope aboute his swere: Many man behelde him there. Erles and Dukes of grete valour For him they preide to the Emperour: On their knees vpon the stoon For him they besoughte euerychoon, That he wolde haue mercy of Segwyn For goddis loue and seynte Martyn. With that is Segwyn to the Chirche come, On his knees he felle full sone: Of the Emperour he besoughte mercy For goddis loue and oure Lady. 'SIR EMPEROUR,' seide Segwyn, 'This daie is come ending myn, Bot thou haue mercy on me. At thy wille it shal bee. No lenger y ne woll thy wrath dryue, While y am man a-lyue, Bot oute of this londe y shall goo, And neuere ayene to come moo. Here my swerde, thou take it, And myn hede of thou smyte, Or what thy wille is, doo by me (Myn owne Lorde, y woll it so bee) For the folie that y dude, Whan y slowe thy neuiew in that stede.' Than bespake the Emperoures sone To his fader and seide: 'sir, of your benesone, Segwyn is a noble baroun. Holden he hath vs in prisoun: To vs he hath bee full kynde, And to you herafterMS. apparently heraftis. may bee well helping. Bot thou foryiue him thy wrath swithe, Of me thou shalt neuere bee blithe.' Than seide the Duke Reyner full sone: 'Sir Segwyn is a noble baron. Sithe he obeyeth him to thy wille, Foryiue him thy wrathe, and that is skille, Of thy neuyew, that he slow by cas; For in his defence, by god, it was. And if any woll contrary that y-sey, Before you to preoue it my gloue y woll ley. And bot if thou haue of him mercy, Euer here-after y shalbee thyn enmy.' Than come forthe sir Gaudemer, And thus to the Emperour he spake there: 'Sir, y loue the Duke ouere all thing; For he vs hath doo grete worshipping, And sworne brethern we bee two: And thou hense forewarde him mysdoo, All my people y shall forsende, And in-to Coloigne y shall wende: Thy Castellis and Citees, that been so stronge, Destroye y shall for thy wronge. Bot thou mercy of him haue nowe, All this y shall ayenst thy prowe.' With that come the Styward forthe: 'Sir, the Duke is moche worthe, And grete worship he hath vs doo (Neuere more yet come vs vnto), Whan he in bataille vs hath nome, And you hath thus doo hider come. Bot thou of him haue the rather mercy, Euere of me herafter thou shalt failly.' With that cometh forth Guy Of Warrewik, the Knyght hardy: 'Sir, for goddis Loue y bidde the, On this Duke thou haue mercy and pitee, And with that y shall your man become To serue the, Lorde, all and some.' Tirry is than forthe come, Of Gormeyse Aubries sone: 'Sir, on this Duke ye must haue mercy For loue of thise good men, that stonde you by. Yf thou haue loste thurgh him Sadok the hende, that was thy kyn, In his stede y shall bee, And with all my might serue the. Therfor at an ende y beseche the, Foryiue him your wrathe with herte free. And bot ye woll that doo, Beleue it well withoute wordes moo.'[Two lines, at least, lost.] So longe they haue the Emperour bede, That he is agreable to their rede. To theim he seith with herte free: 'Lordes, barons, herken to me. Now ye all haue bidden so, For your loue y shall thus doo, And for sir Guy, that is englissh, That so good knyght and curteys is: All my wrathe y foryiue him For loue of the soules of my kynn, And for y him so mylde see. Vnderstonde nowe and herken to me: For he me crieth mercy withoute pride, Mercy he shall haue to his mede.'[A few lines lost = C 2625-2632.] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THANNE seide the Emperour anone To the Duke Segwyn, as ye may here echon: 'Sir Duke, y shall loue the: Wif thou shalt haue thurgh me A faire Suster y haue in my boure: I shall hir yiue the to paramoure.' Erneborugh highte that faire may: Anone he spoused theim that same day. The brideale was holde with game and pley, And therof had a ioyefull day. He loued hir, and worshipped swithe: To Bornewik he ledde hir blithe, He and Erneborgh his wif gentill There they wolde soiourne a whill. And after the twentith day Of his soiournyng, the sothe to say, Guy is to the Duke goo, And asked him leue thoo. 'Sir Duke,' he seide, 'goo y shall In-to my Contrey withoute lenger taryng at all. In thy werre y haue serued the, And yf thou haue any thing to doo with me, After me thou sende hardily, And y shall come right hastely.' 'Sir,' seide the duke, 'graunt mercy! I haue it not deserued to the, sir Guy. Abide heer, and duelle with me: Half my castellis thou shall haue and Citee.' . . . . . . . . . . Guy toke his leue, and forthe wente he: The Duke wepte sore for pitee. The Emperour also wente his wey, And Guy with him, the sothe to sey. Castellis were boden him, and Citees, Riche worship, and grete fees, And he therof wolde noon, For noo thing they kouthe doon; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bot at their wille an huntyng they goo In euery manere Guy solace for to doo. ON A DAYE as Guy come fro dere sheting By a cooste he sawe a shippe aryving. Thiderwardes he is goon: Faire he grette the maryners echoon. 'Lordingis,' he seide, 'of whense come ye, That in this contree thus arriued bee? By your semblant y see, y-wis, That ye lede grete richesse.' Amonges theim all ther spake oon, That well kouthe speke for theim, anoon: 'Fro Constantyn-noble come bee we, Londe of pees to seche, in verite. Marchantis we been of that lande, And oute driuen with stronge hande; For of Coyne the riche sowdan (Proude he is, and of grete boban), He hath with him fiftene kynges, And .xxx.ti admirallis, withoute lesinges. In-to Constantyn-noble the Emperour flowen is, And they haue him beseged, y-wys. There is him lefte noon other Citee, Bot all haue destroied withoute pitee. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fro thense we might eskape vnnethe, Bot were well nyghe broughte to dethe. Come we bee thus in-to this contree: Voir and grys enough lede we, Golde and siluer and riche stones, That vertues bereth for the nones. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Suche bee the tidingis of that contree.' Than answerd Guy: 'my frendis free, . . . . . God, for his names seuen, Bringe you sone to good haūen.' WHANNE the merchauntis had tolde as y you sey, Guy betaughte theim god and good day. To his ynne he is goo, Heraude of Ardern he cleped him to. 'Heraude,' he seide, 'woll we goon At the Emperour to take our leeue anoon? In-to Constantyn-noble woll we goo To helpe the Emperour oute of woo: That with a Sowdan beseged is he, So telleth me men of that contree.' . . . . . . . . . . Heraude answerd, 'y graunte it so bee: Grete worship it may tourne the.' At the Emperour he toke leeue to goo, And he him graunted vnnethe tho. . . . . . . . . . . Than toke Guy an hundred knightes Of the stalworthest and best in fightes, That he might in Almaigne fynde, And most preised and best doyng. Anone they bee to shippe wente: Good wynde god hath theim sente. To Constantyn-noble they bee come, And, whan the Emperour wiste that anoone, That Guy of Warrewik with his compaignye Was logged in his Citee, Two erles he did for him goo, That he wolde come him to. And Guy him gooth to the Emperour free: 'Welcome, sir Guy,' than seide he. 'To thy helpe grete nede haue we. Moche y haue herde speke of the. Thise Saresyns haue my men quelled, And all this londe made bare felde, All bot this oon Citee Destroied and brent, y telle the. Fourty they slowe vpon a day Of my men, the sothe to sey. My men they slowe and my sone also, Wherfor, leef frende, y pray the to, That thou woldest me vpon theim wreke, And the theeues oute of my londe reke: My faire doughter thou shalt haue With half my londe by the lawe.' Than answerd him sir Guy, And seide: 'sir, graunt mercy!' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . At the Emperour he toke his leeue anoon, And to his Inne he is goon. Grete noyse and crye they herde in the Citee: Guy anone asked what that might bee. . . . . . . . . . . So many knyghtes he sawe to armes goo, And as many sergeantis renne to corners thoo. 'Sir,' quoth a burgeis, 'by seynt Martyn, It is the wicked hooste of Sarasyn: It is the Admirall Cosdram, The neuyew of the riche Sowdan. . . . . . . . . . . There nys man ne knyght noon That in wrath darre loke him vpon. His armes all venymed bee: That venym is deth, truly. In the worlde nys man, and he hym take might, That he ne shulde dye anone right. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Come he is with his Chiualrye, And with him the riche king of Turkye With an hundred turkes in fighte stronge: Ther been noon better in noo londe.' ASSONE AS Guy hath herde What his hooste to him seide, To his felawes he seide anone, 'To armes swithe euerichone! The sarasyns we woll agaste. For goddis loue, smyte faste.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy to the Admirall smote so, That shelde ne hauberk aduailled him not a sloo: Thurgh the body he gaue him a wounde, That dede he felle anone to grounde. Guy his swerde anone to him drowe, That the heuede fro the body flowe. To the Emperour he hath it sente, That full glad was of that presente. Heraude smote the king of Turkye (Ther was noon feller in all Surrye): Thurgh-oute the body he him smote, That dede he felle to the grounde fote hote. With that come Thebaude priking, In fraunce borne, a knyght full kynde: With suche strength he smote Elmadan, That him aduailled noo thing he had on. . . . . . . . . . . Gauter come priking anone with that, Of Almaigne a good knyght of astat. He began to smyte to Amodan (Thou hast not herde of a feller man): His body in two he hath clefte, And dede in the felde it hath lefte. With that come forth Morgadour: Styward he was with the Emperour. Knyght he was good and hardy, And traytour he was, and full of enuy. He gan to smyte to a sarasyn, That noo-thing him helped Appolyn. Than they smyte to-gider manly, The bataille they begynne biggely. There men might see Guy smyte The sarasyns heedes of at a strike, And with him heraude also: Bothe they strength theim well to doo. . . . . . . . . . . The sarasyns theim yiue grete fighte, For stronge they bee, and of grete mighte. With that come Escladar priking, A Sarasyn he was of bigge making. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thus thise sarasyns with grete pride Many cristen knyghtes to deth they leye aside. Whanne heraude hath that seyn, Therof he was noo-thing fayn. To Amylorde he smote so, That dede he felle to grounde tho. . . . . . . . . . . Whan Escladar sawe this, To awreke Amylorde leef him is. To heraude he smote hertly, And he him mette boldely. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . So egre was heraude to slee Eskladar, That, or he was any-thing war, An hundred turkes ther were come, And heraude all-most they had nome. . . . . . . . . . . Whan Guy sawe that, he was sory: Hastly he gooth him to socour truly. His good bronde in honde helde he: The hede of a Sarasyn he dud of flee. . . . . . . . . . . Heraude he socoureth well in that nede, And made him worthe vpon his stede. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Than Guy and heraude bothe in fere With their felawes, that good were, Haue discomfited and quelled And the sarasyns hewen in the feeld. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thus they thanked god all and some, That the Sarasyns were ouere-come. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE EMPEROUR was full gladde tho That ouere-come thus was his foo. . . . . . . . . . . Goo he woll to the Ryuere, To pley him and to solace there. The Emperour sente for [his fowlis] thoo, Ostreyes and faukons, girfaukes also. . . . . . . . . . . Sethe he sente for his knyghtes, That good were and curteys. To Ryuer they been goon All, bot Guy is lefte at hoom. Tho come to him Morgadour, That Styward was with the Emperour. To Guy he seide: 'my frende dere, With herte y loue the in good manere. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moche y desire thy loue to haue, And therof hertly y the craue: And in-to the Chambre lete vs goo, Amonges the maydens some sportes to doo . . . . . . . . . . Before thy lemman, Clarice the free, Themperours doughter of bright blee, Whiles the Emperour is to wode goo, To chace the herte and the Roo.' . . . . . . . . . . In-to the Chambre they wente thoo Honde in honde bothe twoo. To the maide they come withoute lette, That curteisly theim hath grette. 'Sir Guy,' she seide, 'welcome thou bee! Is it thy wille, come sitte by me.' He toke that mayde and hir kiste: That forthoughte the Styward in his breste; For he hir had loued many a daye, Wenyng to haue spoused that faire maye. Than at Chequer with the meyne Before that maide pleyden they. The first game they haue sette, And the Styward it loste withoute lette. Than another anone they haue begonne, And that also hath Guy wonne, . . . . . . . . . . And the Styward vp roosse thoo: Wrothe and angry he was also. 'Guy,' quoth he, 'y leue the here, Thy self and Clarice pley in fere, Till that y come ayene.' 'It shalbee doo,' quoth Guy, 'certen.' Oute wente him Morgadour, And at the stable he toke a chasour, And to the Emperour he gooth right. And, whan the Emperour had of him sight: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Why comest thou so yerne priking? Telle me withoute lesyng. Yf thou of the Sarasyns here aught, Telle it me and concele naught.' 'SIR,' QUOTH he, 'y shall the telle: Thy shame noo lenger couere y nelle. A Souldiour thou hast with the, That thinketh for to shende the. Thy doughter, that so faire is, He hath leyn by, ywis. In-to hir boure with strength he yede: By thy doughter his wille he dede. And thou beleue me not, hoom thou fare, And to-geder thou shalt fynde theim there.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Who is that?' the Emperour seide. 'Guy,' quoth he, and gan vpbreide. 'Anone thou him take, and bynde faste, And in thy prison thou doo him kaste.' Quoth the Emperour: 'lete this bee; For so shuld thou not speke of him to me. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yf he haue assentted therto, With hir his wille for to doo, She is his, and him hir yiuen y haue, Me to socour, helpe, and saue.' Whan the Styward vnderstode in his thoughte That the Emperour herde it noughte, Well sone him forthoughte thoo, And home ayene he gan goo. Anone in-to the Chambre he yede, And to Guy thise wordes he seide: . . . . . . . . . . 'Guy, to the Emperour tolde it is, By the Lorde sainte Denys, That with strength tho[u] come in-to his boure, And hast defouled his doughter with dishonour. And if he may the come to, Brenne he woll the or fordoo, And that shuld full sore greue me; Wherfor y counsaille, thou hense flee, Leste he take greuously the, Yf thou befounde in this Citee.' 'ALLAS,' QUOTH Guy, 'that were wronge, And y shuld here deth fonge For thing that y gilte haue noon, Ne neuere thoughte it to doon. To day, before he oute yede, Gretly he me loued, as he seide.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oute of the Chambre he is goo: Sory and heuy he was thoo. To his Inne he yede, y you telle, And cleped to him his felawes all. 'Lordingis,' he seide, 'arme we vs at this tyde; For here noo lenger we woll abide. To the Emperour tolde it is, So that he woll vs slee, withoute mys. . . . . . . . . . . And, or we bee take or dede, Many of theim shull dey to their mede.' . . . . . . . . . . To armes with that they wente echoon, And oute of the Citee they bee goon. They wente toward the hethen men, As with theim to holde and to been. . . . . . WITH THAT come the EmperourEmpererour MS. riding: Fro the Ryuer he was comyng. . . . . . Faire weder it was, and mery day also, The brighte armes he sawe thoo. Whan the Emperour theim sey, He hyed fast, till he come theim ney. Of an heraude than asked he, Thise armed knightes what they bee. 'Sir,' quoth he, 'it is Guy, That in wrath fro the woll departi,departi altered from departe MS. truly. To the Sowdan he woll nowe fare, And werke the moche sorowe and kare.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Whanne the Emperour herde this, All mournyng he was, y-wys. He gynneth to prike, and that anone, His hors as fast, as he might goon. After Guy he cleped thoo: 'Sir Guy,' he seide, 'noo farther thou goo. For goddis loue lete nowe bee, And abide stille with me. And if y haue ought offended the, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . At thy wille it amended shalbee.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir,' quoth Guy to the Emperour, 'Was y neuere yet traytour, Ne, if god woll, noon wolbee, Whiles the lif is with-in me. Me was tolde before nowe right Of oon that is thy priue knyght, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That thou woldest me all to-hewe, And my barons, that bee so trewe. Therfor y thoughte that y serue wolde Suche oon that my seruyse yelde sholde.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'My dere frende Guy, ayene thou goo (Lordingis, barons, bidde him also); For at thy wille it is all, All that myn is, and bee shall,' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Also the Emperour to Guy seide, 'Thy wille to doo by that maide.' Guy kiste the Emperour tho, And ayene to the Citee they been goo. Tho wiste Guy well by than, Betrayed him had his fooman. . . . . . . . . . . On morowe, full sikirly, The Emperour aroosse eerly. To him seide Guy this speche: 'Herken to me, sir, y the beseche. In this mornyng anoon Assailled we shalbee of our foon, . . . . . . . . . . And the Sowdan him-self woll there bee; For a spye it tolde me, That this Citee he woll assaille, And neuere thense departe, withoute faille, Till he haue take the Citee, Or that it discomfited bee.' The Emperour seide: 'sir Guy the free, As thou wolt so shall it bee. All the cure vpon the y doo With cristes blissing and myn therto.' . . . . . . . . . . Guy the Constable cleped him to, That good knyght was, and wise also: Trystour he highte with berde bolde, Lorde and duke of Samary holde. 'Sir Tristour,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me: Assailled we shalbee, y telle the. Therfor thou must aduise the, How we may best kepe this Citee, Or we shall ayenst theim goo, And kepe theim by patthes to and fro: Mete we may theim on the Downe, And theim accombre and ley to grounde.' 'Sir,' seide the Constable, 'All thy speche y holde it auayleable. Doo than crye thurgh the Citee That all men redy armed bee, All that armes may welde, And bestirre theim with spere and shelde.' Anone they been all armed wele, Twenty thousand, in hauberkis of stele, And oute of the Citee they bee goo With grete noyse and booste also. 'Lordinges,' quoth Guy, 'herken to me Ye that here assembled bee: The despite that they to you haue doon, For goddis loue, nowe thinke theron, And assaille theim with good wille; For, forsothe, y shall you telle, The right is oure: bee not aferde, Let eche of vs kepe his herde, And we woll mete theim with spere and shelde In narowe patthes by the feelde.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . All they sey: 'graunt mercy! Well speketh nowe sir Guy.' To the patthes they bee come: The Sarasyns they haue vndernome. They sawe the Contrees, fryth and felde With brighte helmes, spere and shelde. THE SOWDAN cleped of Tyre Elmadan: He ne wolde flee for noo man; He was corageous and good knyght, And moche he was dredde in fight. 'Elmadan,' he seide, 'come with me. With twenty thousand knightis, y bidde the, The cristen ye shall assaille anone. Loke that ye take theim echone.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . At the entre of the patthes Guy gan to ryde, And the Sarasyns deth sore he appliede. To his felawes he spake tho: 'Lordinges,' he seide, 'bere you well ayenst your foo. . . . . . . . . . . They bee benethe and we aboue. Lete vs vpon theim smyte, for goddis loue.' To theim they launceth egirly, And they to theim greuously. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Many a sarasyn there sleyn is; There doth Guy as the wise, y-wis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Than come forth the king of Nubye, A stronge knyght and a manly: Toward heraude he come priking, And Guy him sawe well comyng. With so grete strength to him he smote, That dede he felled him, god it wote. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Whan the Sowdan sawe his folke so dey, By ten, by twelue lye in the wey, He cleped the kyng of Ermonye, That was full of felonye. 'King,' he seide, 'ne seest thou nought How my men to deth bee brought? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bot we on theim bee awreke swithe, Ne shall y neuere bee gladde nor blithe. Woll we theim assaille and fresshly begynne, And the hylle of theim with strength wynne? An hundred we bee ayenst oon: All we shull take anoon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Vpon the cristen they gan smyte, The Sarasyns, bothe moche and lyte, And the cristen defended theim well With sharpe wepen grounde with steell. . . . . . . . . . . The Sowdan come than with all haste, And at the cristen he smote full faste. . . . . . . . . . . Ayenst Guy he ganne goo, And seide: 'yelde the, traytour, y shall the sloo.' To Guy he smote with grete course, That him was some dele the worse; And Guy with strength to him smote With his swerde that full harde bote. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . To a place he wente, and houed there: . . . . . A Gesharme in his honde he did bere. The Sarasyns so there he agaste: All that he smote to grounde felle faste. So faste the sarasyns him leyde vpon, That his horse they slowe he sate vpon. His shelde also he hath lore: To-hewe it laye his fete before. . . . . . . . . . . So many sarasyns he to deth dede, That they ley on hepe to his girdell stede. Who that had seen heraude than fighte, Of a good knyght he speke myghte. A deuonyssh axe he bare in his honde: All that he raughte to grounde wende. . . . . . . . . . . Heraude so sore that daye swanke, That thurgh his mouthe the fome sanke. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And he that was so good a knyght, Guy of Warrewik of grete myght, Euere smote to oon and other: His strokes were heuy as a vother. And Guyes felowes also As lyons they foughte thoo, And their souldiers with theim Defended theim as men. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . With that come ayene the Sowdan, And with him many an hethen man. He bare grete hatrede to Guyoun, And to heraude, his compaignyon. Guy was ware of his comyng: To horse he lepe withoute letting. So harde the sowdan smote to Guy Vpon the helme, sikirly, That of his creest he felled a quarter, And to Guy he seide in a busemer: 'What seist thou, lording? by Appolyn, That was a stroke of a Sarasyn.' And Guy to the Sowdan smote so, That his helme auailled him not a sloo: Streight euen forth to the brayne Helme and flesshe he karf with mayne. And tho he seide in a busemer: 'Mahounde helped the litell there. . . . . . . . . . . How so it fare of my wounde, In Mahounde thou hast litell helpe founde. Right nowe thou scorned me, And of my wounde thou madest thy glee: Lechyng good shall y haue, That shall my wounde hele and saue; And thou hast a crowne shorne to the boon: Now thou may synge masse before noon. Thou maist bee nowe Mahoundis preest, Whan [thou] suche a bisshopps hode werest.' . . . . . . . . . . Thanne were the Sarasyns ouerecome, Awey fleyng they wente some. . . . . . . . . . . So many sarasyns sleyn there bee, That fiftene forlange men might see Men wade aboue the hemme of their shoon In the blode that of theim coom. So moche slaughter in eche side was thoo, That .xv. myles men must goo . . . . . . . . . . Either vp fote, or vp honde, Or vp man sleyn with bronde. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THOO DUDE the Soudan before hym bringe All his goddis, withoute lesyng: Toward theim he was full wrothe. Euery dele he to-rende his clothe, And seide: 'ye false goddis vntruste, Shame ye doo vs and grete bruste. Ayenst vs ye bee of wikked moode: Sorowe ye doo vs, and noo goode. Whan we haue to you moste nede, Than doo ye vs worste spede. Fye, fye on the, thou Appolyn! Thou shalt haue a full euyll fyn, And thou, Termagant, also: Moche sorowe come the to; And thou, Mahound, their aller Lorde, Thou art not worthe a mouse torde! Therfor thou shalt it abigge With harde strokes vpon thy rigge.' He toke a good hawthorne, that by him dud ligge, And beleyde his goddis wombe and Rigge. So he beganne his goddis cloute, That grounde deoned all aboute. Their armes and legges he all to-twighte, And cleped theim wrecches of vnmyghte: 'In you was neuere goodnesse founde, Ne nomore might than in an hounde.' By the fete he theim oute drowe, And did theim shame enowe. GUYE cleped to him his chiefenteyn, With good wille to him gan seyn: 'Lorde god, thanked he bee! A Faire grace nowe haue we, That the sarasyns bee thus ouerecome. Wende we to the Citee nowe sone.' Whan they to the Cytee were come ayene, To the Emperour welcome they been, And namely Guy, the good knyght, Most was worshipped, and that was right. Whan that sawe Morgadour, That Styward was with the Emperour, That Guy was come home thoo, And that the Emperour loued him so, Than he bethoughte him, the sothe to sey, How he might Guy best betraye. On felonye he bethoughte thoo, . . . . . . . . . . That Guy shulde on message goo. . . . . . . . . . . Thanne he seide to the Emperour: 'Sir,' quoth he, 'paramour, Yf thy wille bee, herken me: Good counsaille y shall yiue the.' 'Now lete see,' quoth the Emperour. 'Vnderstonde me,' quoth Morgadour. 'The sowdan hath for his folke sente: In-to all paynym the sonde is wente. . . . . . . . . . . So moche folke he hath for-sente, The to besege verament. To him, y rede, thou sende thy sonde In sauacion of the and all thy londe, That loue and pees bee betwene you two, Till all this rancour bee a-goo.' 'Who durste,' quoth the Emperour, 'thider wende? 'Sir, a good knyght hardy and hen le Of thy house, y the aplighte, Guy of Warrewik of grete mighte, And heraude, that other the beste: In theim two thou mav well truste.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Emperour seide: 'Morgadour, bee stille: Toward Guy thou hast euyl wille. He ne shall on suche message wende, Bot for my barons y shall sende.' HIS BAROUNS tho he dud for-sende: Ouere all his londe his sonde gan wende, That they shuld to the Emperour come. To theim he seide: 'my frendes all and some, I shulde sende to the Sowdan, Yf y wiste euere by wham. With him to accorde y am in wille, Yf that ye woll assente thertille, Yf any of you so hardy were, That durste from vs our message bere.' Whan the Emperour had seide his reeson, Ther was neither knyght nor baron That oon worde him answerd, Bot as dome men sate all aferde. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And ther was noon, litill ne moche, That oon worde spake sikirliche. GUYE of Warrewik than vpryste: 'Sir Emperour, by my lorde Criste, This message,' quoth he thoo, 'With goddis helpe y shall it well doo.' The Emperour seide: 'that shalt thou nought: Thider goo haue thou noo thought.' . . . . . . . . . . Thanne answerd Guy, as y you telle: 'By god, sir, y it leue nelle, Bot y woll this message doo, To dye or y thense goo.' With that he toke his leeue of theim all, And wente him forthe oute of the hall. For him they bidde, knyght and baron, To god, that suffred passion, Shuld saue him fro combringe, And him ayene sauf bringe. Guy come to his ynne in a stounde, His felawes he hath all drowping founde. 'What, lordingis,' he seide, 'how is it nowe? All-mighti god y beteche you.' 'Sir,' quoth heraude, 'y shall with the goo; For, yf thou dye, y shall also.' Guy answerd: 'so may it not bee. I shall goo: pray thou for me.' His armes he asked hastely, And men theim broughte gentilly. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Than he girde him with his bronde, That was made in eluyssh londe. A sheelde aboute his swere he toke, To horse he leepe withoute stirope, In his hande he bare his spere keruyng, And oute of the Citee he wente ryding. All the folke of the Citee For him wepte for pitee, And preyde hertly for his gayne-comyng, And that the sowdan shuld haue euyl ending. NOWE IS Guy in the wey Towardis the sarasyns, as y you sey, Well armed vpon his stede, A launce he bare full good at nede. . . . . . . . . . . So nyghe the sarasyns come he is, That he their pauylon sawe y-wis. To the Sowdans pauylon he gan aspie With an heron of golde stonding on highe. . . . . . . . . . . In-to that pauylon Guy is went On horsebak, y telle you, verament. The Sowdan at mete was there: Of Guy ne was he not ware. With the Sowdan ete kyngis ten: A faire sighte it was to ken. And Guy on horsbak sate there, To theim he spake in this manere: 'Now that god that duelleth on highe, That all thing socoureth farre and nyghe, And on the Rode suffred passion, . . . . . . . . . . Yiue you all his malison; . . . . . . . . . . And the first, sir Sowdan, Cristes curse come the vpon! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Vnderstonde, traitour, to my reeson: I am the Emperours garson, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That by me hath sente his sonde, And biddeth the to goo oute of his londe. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Therfor to thy pauylon y am come, To warne the to bee hense anone. Answer me nowe to this asking, What worde y shall to my lorde bringe.' QUOTH the Sowdan: 'what art thou, That in-to my courte art come nowe, And mysseist me so shamefully And thretnest me so dedely?' Guy answerd: 'y shall the telle: My name to couere for the y nelle. Guy of Warrewik my name is; In the contree there y was borne, ywis.' The sowdan answerd thoo: 'Art thou Guy, that seist soo, Thou slowe my neuyeu Cosdram: His hede thou smote the body fram.' . . . . . . . . . . Anone he bade that Guy were nom And kaste in his depe prison, Tylle the borde were withdrawe, And than shamefully to bee slawe. GUYE drowe his swerde anone: The sarasyns fast aboute him gan goon. By seynt Denys Guy gan swere, And if any so hardy were To come to him with any shonde, He shuld him slee with his honde; And priked his stede amonge the route: All the sarasyns of him had doubte. . . . . . . . . . . To the sowdan he come with that. In his cheire, wherin he sat, To him he smote than anoon, That the hede vpon the borde felle down. The hede Guy toke vp with his honde, And in a clothe he it wonde. Hastly the sarasyns route Besette Guy all aboute. To Iesu crist he cryde euere vpon. The sarasyns to him resorted echoon. An hundred hedes he dud of fleen Of tho that stode him ayene, And with strength that hede forth bare, Maugre theim all that were there. Thurgh the hooste he rode smertly, His horse him bare full swiftly. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bot god him kepte alweys, as it dooth seme, Or ellis his lif he had loste, as men wene; For on euery behalue they smote him to, And he to theim did also. LESTENETH nowe and sitte stille, Lordingis, and it bee youre wille. Of heraude nowe y shall you telle, That of sorowyng may not duelle. . . . . . . . . . . Euery man is full woo Whan he shall a good frende forgoo: So was heraude for his lorde free; For he wende neuere him more see. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He felle in swowe vpon his bedde Thurgh grete sorowe that he hadde, And thurgh that falle aslepe, As a man that is wery of wepe. A dreme he had merueillously, That he sawe his lorde Guy Vpon his stede swithe comyng, And in his honde his swerde keruyng, And was assailled with wolues and beer: Vnnethe he might fro theim eskape there. All to-cratched they had his sheelde, That pecemele it fleigh in the feelde. . . . . . . . . . . Withat is heraude of his slepe awaked, And anone grete sorowe maked, And cride anone to his companye: 'Felawes, anone doo you army, And Guy to helpe anone we spede; For of helpe he hath grete nede: Well y it wote by my sweuen. Now helpe us god that is in heuen!' All armed they were anoon, And wente to horse euerychoon, . . . . . . . . . . And with all their might they hie faste For to socour Guy in haste. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sone they behelde toward a cooste: Of the Sarasyns they herde grete booste. . . . . . . . . . . All full sore they thretned Guy: Him to slee fast hasted they. Amonge theim they sawe Guyoun That defended him strongly as a lyon. On euery behalue they did him assaille, That by the bridell they toke saunz faille. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tho gan heraude fast spede To socour Guy; for it was nede. First he smote to a sarasyn, That litill helped him Appolyn. They smyte faste and to-geder thronge, That forkoruen been guttes, lyuer, and longe. So at laste, as god yaue theim grace, The sarasyns with shame discomfited was, . . . . . . . . . . And Guy rescowed with grete gladnesse: All thanked god of their prowesse. . . . . . . . . . . The sarasyns with-drowe theim anoon Sory and woofull euerychoon, And toke their lordis body there, As sory wrecches with theim it bere. . . . . . . . . . . THOO GUYE and heraude and their meyne Thanked god fast of their fair iourne. The hede on a spere they haue doo, And ryde faste to the Citee thoo. . . . . . . . . . . Whan they of the Citee wiste of his comynge For ioye they ganne all the belles rynge. Whan Guy to the Emperour come is The hede he presented with ioye and blis. The Emperour with ioye of Guy it hent, And thanked him gretly of that present. In the Citee he lete make anone A piler of grey marbelstone: The hede therupon sette was, And in eche side an hede of bras. . . . . . . . . . . WHANNE all this was doo The Emperour cleped Guy him to, And seide to him: 'my dere frende Guy, Of all thy goodnesse y kanne not the thanky, Bot, and thy wille were to take, My doughter y yiue the to thy make.' Than answerd to him sir Guy, And seide: 'sir, moult graunt mercy!' At this tyme they departed so: The Emperour to his chambre wente tho. The Emperour aroosse on morowe thoo, And to see the contree he is goo. And Guy thoughte in that mornyng To wode wende in his pleying. So in-to a launde he come by cas, That a litell within the forest was. A lyoun he sawe come thoo, Bot a softe paas he ne might goo, With yanyng mouthe, full wery he was. Thanne seide Guy, 'allas, allas! This beest had helpe noon.' His men dredde the lyon echoon. Guy to the lyon wente, saunz faille: The lyon on him waued his taille, As he wolde helpe haue For a dragon, that ley ther in a caue, With whom the lyon had foughte, And nye ouere-come he was him thoughte. Whan that wiste Guy In his herte he was sory. After his stede he sente tho, Shelde, and spere, and swerd also. . . . . . . . . . . Whan the dragon sawe a man to him come The lyon he lefte, and to the man ronne. With open mouth toward Guy he gan goon, And Guy bare vp his spere anone: In-to the throte he it putte with strength, Farre in-to his body his speres length, That dede he felle to grounde tho. Wherto shuld y make tales moo? He smote of the hede, and wente his wey Homeward ayene, the sothe to sey. Before him gooth the lyon, And folowed him alwey by woon, . . . . . . . . . . And likked his fete as he yede, And lepte and pleyde in euery stede. . . . . . . . . . . With that praye wente sir Guy, And yelde it to the Emperour, sikirly. All were full gladde of the lyon Sauf Morgadour the felon, That was the Emperours Styward, That euere was Guy ayeneward. A slie treason than thoughte he, That he wolde the lyon slee. . . . . . . . . . . Now is Guy to his ynne goo: The lyon him foloweth euere moo. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And Guy in-to his bedde he is stryke, And therin he lieth longe sike. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GUYE aroosse after the fourtenyghte, And to courte he wente righte. . . . . . . . . . . With him his lyon yede to Courte thoo, Thurgh whom aroosse sorowe and woo. The Emperour of Guy was fayne thoo, That his sikenesse was fro him goo; Bot Morgadour, sikirly, Hated Guy full inwardly, And that was for the loue of the maide That Guy shuld haue spoused as y you seide. So at mete sette is Guy: The Emperour him chereth gretly. Whiles that Guy at mete sate, The lyon pleide within the yate In pees withoute vilanye. Herken now of grete felonye. WHANNE the Emperour had ete, And with Guy longe while sete, With him to pley in companye (For he loued sporte withoute vilanye), . . . . . . . . . . Ther whiles the lyon aboute is goo, To reste him priuely in a sloo: Ayenst the sonne he slepe in a stede, Grete while of the day he so dede. Whan Guy sawe tyme his leeue he nom, And to his ynne he wente him hoom. The lyon than folowed him noughte, For in the herber he slepe full softe. As the Styward was to his chambre goyng, He sawe the lyon in the herber sleping. Oute at a wyndowe he loked him to, . . . . . . . . . . And in his herte he seide thoo: 'This lyon y shall nowe slee. So y may best on Guy wroken bee.' A sharpe wepen he forth drowe, And therwith the lyon he slowe. The lyon was afraide and vp sterte, As he that was to deth hurte. A mayde was ther, and all sighe, And to the Styward she cride an highe: 'Sir Styward,' she seide, 'that was euyl smyte. Harme dud he noon, god it wite!' The lyon ranne forth sore gronyng, And after him his guttes drawyng. To Guyes ynne he is goo, In his chambre he fonde him tho: At his fete he felle downe in that stede: To haue socour he it dede. His handes he gan to likke gently: That was his loue, sikirly. Whan Guy the lyon wounded seigh, For sorowe his herte to-clef wel neigh. 'A lorde,' he seide, 'god all-might, Who hath the thus euyl dight? For all this Citee y ne wolde That my lyon thus sone dede bee sholde.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . With that Guy oute of the Chambre wonde, And toke his swerde in his honde, And to courte wente thinkyng. Well they sawe all by his lokyng That he was right wroth: They all ayenst him sone gooth. 'LORDINGES,' quoth Guy, 'y you beseche, Yf any of you kanne me teche, Who that slowe my lyoun to-daye.' All they seide, 'sir, naye.' As sone as he to the halle come, A maide in hir armes him nome. 'Sir Guy,' she seide, 'my leef swete, Is thy lyon dede, or lyueth yet? Thurgh the body smyten y him sighe.' Than besoughte of hir sir Guye, That she shuld concele it nought, But telle him, who his lyon hath to deth brought. And she seide that Morgadour, That Styward was [with] the Emperour, 'Thurgh the body he him smote: His deth it was, well y wote.' Whan Guy herde that same feloun Had sleyn his lyoun, Out of the halle he gan dryue, Fro chambre to chambre seching him blyue, With a naked swerde in his honde, Yf he may fynde him to shonde. To a chambre he come in a stounde: Morgadour he hath therin founde With his neuyeu in counsaille faste: Whan he sawe Guy he was agaste. To him seide Guy: 'why hast me betrayhed, To grounde so my lyon leyde? I did the neuere yet bot good, Thou false traitour of vnkynde blood.' Morgadour answerd to him anone, As a stalworth knyght shuld doon: 'Thou lyest euen in thy tethe, And therfor haue thou euyl dethe. Why appechest me of treeson? I it avowe, y slowe thy lyoun.' To Guy with a knyf haue smyte he wolde, And Guy it defend, as a man sholde. With that Guy his swerde vp heef, And Morgadour down right all to-cleef From the hede downe to the fote: Of that stroke ne come neuere bote. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tho Guy lefte him there full sone, And come to the Emperour anone. To him he seide: 'sir Emperour, I haue the serued with grete honour. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . How shuld y any lenger serue the, Whan thou maist not warante me, Vnkouthe man in thy londe, Hym not defende, bot spille and shonde. Harme me here is mykel doo; Therfor y shall fro the goo, And in other contrees serue y wille, There they woll theim better acquite me tille.' 'MERCY, SIR Guy,' quoth the Emperour tho. 'Yf any of myn haue the mysdoo, Suche right y shall the doo as thou wilt, To make the amendes well for thethy MS. gylt; For all they shull thy men bee, And at thy wille serue the. . . . . . . . . . . And to-morowe right eerly Thou shalt my doughter spousy.' Guy answerd: 'therof speke nought: Hir to take y am not in thought; For, and ye hir had me yiue, To haue and holde whiles yye MS. lyue, Than wolde thy men sey echoon, That wonderfull bee many oon, That ye had with dishonour Of a pouere man made their Emperour. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Leuer me is a litell with worship Than moche to welde with shenship. Therfor, sir, forsothe y the telle, With you noo lenger woll y duelle. Wende y shall in-to my contree, All my frendes for to see.' His leeue he tooke with that speche: 'Sir, all-mighti god y you beteche.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Now Guy of the Emperour his leeue take hath, And he all weping him it yaf, And at the knyghtes of the Citee, Of theim all his leeue toke he. Ther men might see folke sorowyng For Guy that was fro theim goyng, And women and children many oon: For him they wepe euerychoon; For, whiles that he was with theim in that stede, Of noon Enmyes they durste drede. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GUYE home to his ynne is goo, And erly on morowe aroosse tho: To Englond to wende, god it wote, Is his purpose full and hote. And so Guy forth rightis is goo: Therfor the Emperour was full woo; And so was blancheflourSo MS. the shene: For his loue she suffred grete teene. Now is Guy to Englond drawe, And with him heraude, his felawe. . . . . . . . . . . In May it was as y wene, Whan the herbes growen grene: By a forest they come thoo Nyghe a Citee, not farre therfro. Than seide Guy to his meyne: 'Goo ye nowe to the Citee, And ordeigne there all thing redy; For y shall here a while me pley, For to here the foules singe.' Theron was tho all his deliting. His men theim wente to the Citee thoo, And Guy all alone belefte so. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Of so many thinges he bethoughte, That oute of his wey he was broughte. So longe he is forth ridyng, In the forest alone his wey seching: At laste a gronyng he herde, And he ne wiste how it ferde. The voice seide: 'allas, allas, That euere y was borne to suche cas.' . . . . . . . . . . Thider-wardis Guy him drowe, And, as he loked vnder a bowe, The body he sawe of a knyght: Therof he had wonder, aplight. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Begurde he was with a good swerde, That was well keruyng vpon the egge. Guy had of him mykel reuthe, And asked of him right blithe . . . . . . . . . . His name, and where he was bore, And who had wounded him so sore. 'I the bidde, telle thou me, And my trouthe y plighte the That y ne shall the harme doo Bee thou frende, bee thou foo.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Herken nowe, sir knyght free: Thou shalt wite my name, and what y bee. Of Gormoyse y am cleped Terry, The oolde Erles sone Aubry. With the Duke of lorynge y haue bee, And serued hym at fote and knee. A faire doughter thanne had he Yonge, and ioly, and brighte of blee. Ouere all thing we loued in fere, And of true loue plighte we were. For noon other she wolde me lete, Bot me loue hertly and swete. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . To whom y was trouth-plighte, Oysele was hir name righte. By hir lettres she sente to me And by tokens, that were so free, That, if y hir haue wolde, Bylyue to hir come y sholde Within a daye that was sette, Or ellis she sholde fro me bee fette. Tho toward hir y gan me spede With thritty knyghtis of good rede: Eche of vs his stede bee-strode, And rode forthe withoute bode, Where Otes and his feeres were, Nyghe an hundred knyghtes of grete power, . . . . . . . . . . Redy to spouse myn owne wif, That y loued as my lyf. Whanne y to the Citee was come so Priuely y sente for hir thoo, That she shuld come to me For all loues, and so dud shee . . . . . . . . . . By a rope all slighlie, That noo man wiste but she, trulye. I sette hir on a mule ambling, And in the wey we dud vs riding. And ther y dud grete childehode, All to longe ther we abode; For at our goyng oute of the Citee The lighte day men might see: So we were knowen thoo And at a grete brigge, where we shuld goo. That y for Oysele was come, Hir fader it was tolde anone. Thurgh the Citee the crye was made That y had awey the mayde ladde. Tho to horse the knyghtis gan wende, And vs ouere-toke at the brigge ende. There we strongly mette theim: Many we slowe of their men. They slowe all myn in fere, That full good and noble knyghtis were. Me to take, as y you telle, They were full redy, bot y dud not duelle: I toke my lemman vpon my stede, And ouere that water with her y yede. All that daye they dryuen me, Tyll they for nyghte might noo lenger see. . . . . . . . . . . That water passe they ne dorsten, Thanne ayene turne they musten. So in-to this forest y come ryding, Befor me my lemman guyding: Ine dredde robbour ne theef noon, Bot all sure y wende to haue goon. What for waking, and for fastyng, And for other grete traueilling, For-sleped swithe sore y was, And felle a-slepe in this plaas. Than come here .xv. outlawes stronge With their men, and gan me fonge. All sleping thus they wounded me, And than, for sothe y telle the, They toke my lemman, and ledde hir with theim For goddis loue, sir, haue pitee nowe then: For the trouthe thou hast me plighte, Socour my lemman yf thou mighte, And, whan that y dede bee, Thou doo me burye, y pray the. To that hille thou wende anone: Ther shalt thou fynde the outlawes echoon. And, sir, yf thou soo good bee, That thou might theim all slee, Wynne thou might a maide free: In the worlde noon fairer may bee. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nowe thou hast, sir, all herde, How y was take and thus aferde. Take here my sheelde, and my bronde of stele, And my fauchon, that biteth wele, All myn harneys that y am in dighte, And socour me, gentill knyghte (For y see thou art of might), To holde the trouthe thou hast plight.' THANNE stode Guy vpright: Full depe in his hert thoo he sight. He knewe Tirry for his frende, That leye there in so harde a bende, And seide: 'sir, by trouthe myn That y haue plighte in hande thyn, With all might y shall helpe the: More thou ne maist aske of me.' With that he hath his sheelde nome, And his good bronde than full sone, His hauberk, and his other wede, To the hylle in grete perille he yede. A logge there stonde he sighe, And withoute stode a stede highe, That was to a bowe teyed. Guy grete chalange on him leyde: Sternely priking he come, His swerde he drowe oute anone, And seide to theim at his in comyng: 'Theeffis, ye bee dede, withoute lesyng. . . . . . . . . . . Why slowe ye that noble knyght? All ye shull dye anone right.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . To the maister theef first he raughte: Full sone his hede awey was kaughte. All he theim slowe, y you plighte, Or any of theim arise mighte. Whan he theim had sleyne echoon, He lepte vpon the stede anoon. Than he come to that mayde, And swetely to hir he saide, 'No more sory thou ne bee, Bot arise vp, and come with me. With thy lemman y shall the bringe Vnder the hawthorn withoute taryinge.' Vpon a moyle he sette hir anone, And to the hawthorn they come sone, And they the knyght there ne fonde: Awey he was ledde in that stounde. Whan they him ne fonde, they were sory; For they wende full sikirly That lyons him had all to-drawe. Than loked he aboute vnder the wode shawe: The trade of horse he there sighe. His herte to-berste for sorowe nyghe. The maide he bade abide there: After him swithe he gan fare. . . . . . . . . . . Guy ouere-toke sone that ferde, And sawe foure knyghtis the knyght lede Ouere-thwerte a stede fast bounde, Ryding a paas with him that stounde. To the knyghtis than Guy seide With faire wordes, withoute drede: 'That lorde that made this daye, You worship, that best may. Yf it bee youre wille speke with me, And to my speche vnderstonde ye. Lordinges, y haue my trouthe plighte To him ye there lede, that knighte, That y shall his body burye: So y haue him plighte, trulye. Therfor with loue y you beseche That ye that body me beteche.' A knyght thoo turned to him warde, That was the duke of lorreys stywarde, . . . . . . . . . . And seide to Guy: 'who art thou? As a foole thou art come hider now. Whiles thou comest to aske right Of the body of oure knyght, Thou art his felawe, we the telle, And to Duke Otes the we lede wille: There ye shull bothe demed bee To hange highe on a galowe tree.' Guy answerd, 'thou mysseist: By myn hede, thou it abeyest. Art thou beloued with Otoun, Haue ye all goddis malison.' Vpon the hede Guy him smote, To the girdelstede that swerde bote. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What shall y make a tale of nought? All he hath to deth brought. He toke Terry in his armes twoo, And ledde him forthe before him tho. To that hawthorn they bee fare, And thoo they ne fonde the mayde there. Lete we nowe of Guy bee stille, And herken more if it bee your wille Of the maide, how she was nome, And than ayene to our tale we shull come. Of Guyes felawes shull we telle As y fynde in this perchemyn felle, That so longe had bee in the Citee, And wondred sore where Guy might bee. . . . . . . . . . . Heraude of Ardern and other moo In-to the forest they been goo, And him fynde they ne might. Than kaste heraude his sight: 'A-lighte,' he seide, 'I here a gronyng, As it were a woman in childing.' And she beganne lowde to crye, And heraude to hir gooth, trulye. To the hawthorn they come nyghe, And that Maide there they syghe. Heraude hir asked what she was, Bot she ne him tolde all the cas. Than they toke that mayde forth, And homeward ayene sory they gooth; For they had their lorde longe soughte In the foreste, and fonde him noughte. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NOWE wende we ayene to our spelle, There ye me herde beforehande telle How Guy and Terry, the Erles sone, Been to the hawthorn ayene come, And, whan they thider come were, They ne fonde the mayde there. Guy lefte there Terry, And wente to seche the mayde hastly, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And he hir fynde than ne may: Homeward, forsothe, he toke his way, And with him toke that knyght: Vpon his stede he ledde him right. Come he is in-to the Citee: His men all sory than fonde he, And, whan they sawe their lorde come, Gladde they were all and some. 'Lordinges,' he seide, 'take this body, To grounde ye it ley softely.' The body they toke of that knyght, Vpon palle they leyde downe right. Guy than sente for leches, The best in the Citee he forseches. 'Lordingis,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me. Yf ye this knyght that ye here see, May his woundes sikirly hele, Ye shall haue good rewardis with a mery mele. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The leches seide that they him hele wolde; With goddis helpe they it doo sholde. Thanne anone herde Guy Noyse, weping, and grete cry. His Chambreleyn he cleped him to, And all wrothly he asked him tho Who it was that the noyse made. 'Goo in to theim, and bidde theim bee glade.' 'Sir,' he seide, 'a faire mayde it is That heraude fonde in the forest, ywis, Vnder an hawthorn in the foreste.' 'Lete me hir see,' quoth Guy, 'in haste.' . . . . . . . . . . The Chambreleyn is forth goon, And bringeth hir before Guy anoon. Guy hir knewe, and gan hir grete: 'Well founde, my leef swete.' But euere she wepte, and 'allas' seide: All they had reuthe of that mayde. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ON A DAYE, as they come fro huntyng, Guy seide to Terry, withoute lesyng: 'I woll that we bee trouthe-plight, And sworen brothers bee-come nowe right, . . . . . . . . . . That neither of vs neuere moo Faille other in wele nor woo.' Than answerd the Erle Terry: 'Full hertly, sir Guy. Now thou so gretly louest me, That thou my sworne brother wolt bee, I woll neuere, certaine, faille the For noo-thing that may bee-falle me. Grete helpe y haue had of the: God lete me yet that daye see That y it the may yelde To thy pleasur in towne or feelde.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Truthe betwene theim there they plighte, And after kyste anone righte. Forthe they wente in-to that Citee With ioye, and myrthe, and moche glee. Guy after that made him redy In-to Englonde to fare, truly. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It was vpon a somers daye, Guy oute at a wyndowe laye. . . . . . . . . . . As he lay, come ridyng a knyghte: Full wery he semed by all sighte, That oute of farre contrey trauailled were. Guy to him cleped there: 'Sir knyght,' he seide, 'fro whens comest thou? And what thou sechest telle me now.' . . . . . . . . . . 'Terry of Gormoyse y goo seching, The Erles sone Aubrey well doyng. Thurgh many londe y haue him soughte., 'Wherto?' quoth Guy, 'couere it noughte.' 'Sir,' he seide, 'thou shalt wite sone The grete trespasse that was doone.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir knyght,' seide Guy, 'Here with vs thou herborugh, truly, And of the Erle Terry y shall the telle Yf y ought kanne, my frende, withoute duelle.' 'Graunt mercy, sir,' seide he. 'Of him to here leef were me.'Gui of warwick is my name, how like yow the same, in a later hand in the blank space left by the original scribe here, as elsewhere before a line beginning with a large capital. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WHANNE they had ete and dronke to, In grete gladnesse they were tho. Thanne seide the Erle Terry: 'For loue y prey the, sir Guy, That thou to my Contree come with me, As we sworne brethern bee. My fader to helpe we vs spede; For to helpe he hath grete nede.' 'I shall the neuere faille,' quoth Guy, 'While the lif lasteth in my body.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Full gladde was therle Aubry For the comyng of his sone Terry, And ouere all other of Guyes comyng, That good knyght was, withoute lesing. So longe to bataille they been goo, That betwene theim moche sorowe is doo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LORDINGES,' seide the duke Otoun, 'Vnderstonde to my resoun. Well ye wite Terry, that here is, Hath agilted the Duke loyer, ywis, That him forth bredde, and armes yaf, And euyl him aquytte he hath, Whan he bringeth vnkouthe folke moche Vpon his lorde so dedeliche. Bot y haue besoughte the Duke so With my frendes also, That foryiue him hath he for euere moo, And grete worship he woll him doo.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thanne seide the Duke loer: 'Vnderstonde all that been heer, That the Erle sir Terry, Aubry sone, that is here by, That he the mayde Oysell shall spousy, And in goddis lawe lyue, truly. Accorded we bee to that dede, And foryiue is all hatrede.' Thanne hath the Duke kyste Terry Of grete treason, and not frendly. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy and heraude that mayde doo lede Oysel she highte with rodyes rede. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . At laste seide Otes of Pauye: 'Herken to me, my companye. . . . . . . . . . . By the rede of the Duke Loer I commaunde you all that bee heer That ye Guy, Terry, and heraude bynde Faste their handes theim behynde.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anone they assailled Terry, And toke him full hastly, And heraude, that was so good of might, Theim twoo they toke agayne right. But Guy vp sterte full hastly, And to theim spake boldely. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . With that forth sterte anone right Otes Cousyn, a noble knyghte. Guy by the mantell he plighte so That the tassels brake in two. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy sawe it might noon other bee: To him that helde him tourned he, And raughte him suche a buffet tho, That his nekke brake in two. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy defended him well and strongly With the helpe of god to him redy. Smartly they gonne him assaille, And he him defended euere in bataille, So that at laste he come to his stede: To him he ranne as man that had nede. Withoute styrope he lepe theron: Many he made leue their liffis anoon.Then said Gui thoo, in the blank left between 1.5758 and 1.5759, in the same hand as p. 126. THANNE the Duke seigh That Guy on horse aweyward fleigh, Anone he seide to his knyghtes: 'Now to horse with all your mightes. . . . . . . . . . . Take ye Guy, and that anone, As ye woll haue my loue echoone. Who that dede or lyuyng him bringeth me to, A thousand besauntȝ he shall haue and moo.' To horse they wente in all haste, And dryuen Guy swithe faste, And Guy hadde wepen noon: Wolde good, that made man, That he had had his bronde keruyng! For he had there noo frende helping. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy fledde fro theim a smarte paas: Though he were a-feerde noo wonder was. With that he sawe a knaue comyng, As god it wolde in that thring, That a grete staffe on his shulder bare, And Guy fulfeyre besoughte him there That he wolde the staffe him yiue, And he wolde him acquite yf he dud lyue. 'Ye, sir,' quoth he, 'by sainte Michell, Haue him here and bere the well.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . With that a lombard Guy ther mette, And with the staffe so he him grette, That dede he him felde right anone. He toke that horse, and gan to gone, And seide to that knaue thoo: 'Haue thou this horse, and thy wey goo.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And Guy him gooth to a water yerne, And ouere he gooth with goddis sterne. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ayene than they bee come To the Duke Otes all and some, And tolde him all the sothe anone, How Guy is ouere the water goone. Than is the Duke Otes full sory That so with lif escaped is Guy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . But that mayde was glad, sikirly, That Guy was so goon, truly, So as he escaped was; For well she hoped by some cas He wolde bringe by some Kaste Oute of prison hir lemman in haste. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TO TELLE OF Guy y haue thoughte How god him hath fro deth broughte. Whan he was passed that Ryuer sterne He loked him aboute full yerne. . . . . . . . . . . 'Lorde god,' he seide, 'what may [y] doo? Wery wrecche, whider may y goo? Now y haue loste the Erle Terry And Heraude, my maister, y am sory.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy forthe wente his waye, And rode mournyng all that daye, So longe that he a Castell seigh Vpon a roche stonding on heigh. . . . . . . . . . . As he to the gate come A yonge knyght he fonde there anone. Mikell he was, hende, and free: Felawes he had with him three. Guy sawe by their semblant anone That he was lorde of theim echone. 'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'vnderstonde me. The lorde, that made bothe sonde and see, The saue and blisse euermo, In-to what contree that ye goo. I am a knyght of farre contree, And herborough y aske for charite.' The lorde answerd full swetely, 'Ye shall haue, full hertly.' . . . . . . . . . . By the honde he toke than Guy, And in-to the halle yeden they. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The lorde with that to him seyde, 'I the bidde, sir, at this breyde That thy name thou telle me, And not couereMS. discouere. it, y pray the.' Guy answerd full louely, 'My name y telle the blithely: Guy of Warrewik my name is. Euyl y am a-combred, ywis.' Whan the lorde herde that, That it was Guy that by him sat, 'Sir,' he seyde, 'welcome to me: In your owne herburgh ye bee. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Amys of Champeyn my name is: Well ye oughte to knowe me, ywis. . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir,' quoth Amys, 'fro whens comest thou, That ye goo thus allone nowe? . . . . . . . . . . Where is heraude, that knyght free, And all thy knyghtes of grete bountee?' 'I shall the telle, sir,' quoth Guy. 'No wonder is though y bee sory.' Than tolde he him that cas, How the Erle Terry wounded was, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And how the parlement was nome, And how thurgh treason they were ouerecome, And how Terry was take thoo And the good heraude also, And with theim .v. hundred knyghtis, Orped men and stronge in fightes. 'I ne wote whether they bee dede or alyue: All y sawe theim ledde forthe blyue.' WHANNE Guy had tolde all the cas, How euyll tho him befalle was, 'Suffre awhile, sir,' quoth he. 'And it bee thy wille vnderstonde me. I haue Castelles and townes stronge: Haue thou right, haue thou wronge, All y shall theim betake the, And my knyghtes y shall sende for to me.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Amys,' quoth Guy, 'god yelde it the, The goodnesse that thou proferst me. . . . . . . . . . . Hastilier of him awreke y hope bee: For doubte of deth y woll not flee.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy toke his leeue thoo, Toward Pauye for to goo, And seide, 'Amys, y beseche the, A stede that thou wolt yiue me.' And Amys anone, withoute doubte, Made him chese the beste in the route. Oon he toke, and lepte vpon: Sadell ne house he wolde noon. So Guy him dighte in newe aqueyntise, And come to Pauye in a wonder guyse. An oignement than purchassed he That made his visage oute of blee. . . . . . . . . . . Noo man was so wise of sighte That afterward him knowe mighte. To Pauy than Guy come is: Of noo man he afferde is. The Duke Otes he fonde there, And he him grette in this manere: 'Sir Duke,' he seide, 'god saue the: As y it wolde so mote it bee. A man y am of farre contree: Hyder y am come to seche the. Broughte y haue the a stede, In all the worlde is noo better at nede. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yf ye me therof doo not beleue I shall him assaye for the more preoue.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Quoth the duke: 'sir, moult graunt mercy. This is a faire yifte, sikirly. . . . . . . . . . . To suche an horse y haue nede, That y might the better spede, And on my foomen bee a-wreke; And some in my prison been steke, Bot oon eskaped is fro me. That wolde god all men might him here see, That he were nowe in my halle: Grete woo him shuld sone befalle. To morowe he shuld hanged bee With good wille, y telle it the.' 'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'who may that bee? In full grete perill stondeth he.' 'I shall the telle,' quoth the Duke tho. 'Guy of Warrewik, that is my foo.' . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir,' quoth he, 'well knowe y Guy. I wolde that he stode the by. He slowe oon of my nyghe kyn; Therfor y am yet wrothe with him, And the Erle Tirry also: I hate him as my dedely foo. . . . . . . . . . . God lete me neuere dede bee Till him at my wille y see.' 'Frende,' quoth the Duke Otoun, 'I haue Terry here in my prisoun. Now thou shalt loke him to, And all shame thou him doo.' 'Sir,' quoth he, 'graunt mercy, And y the sey sikirly That his lif y shall tourne and wende Or come this seuen nyght to an ende.' The duke doth him than the keyes take, And maister Iayler he doth him make. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An house the Duke deliuered him thoo That noo thing was in bot they two. The Duke noo-thing the sothe wiste, That he was Guy, ne noo man nyste. Therfor all his wille he might doo, That noo man shuld speke him to. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As sone as the tyme come, Guy is in-to the Citee goon: Mete enough he boughte there, And to Terry he did it bere. . . . . . . . . . . All his bondes he doth awey, And socoureth him bothe nyghte and daye. In-to the chambre than wente he, Whan he his tyme did see, To comforte that mayde well, That in grete sorowe abode euery dele. Guy seide to the maide free, 'Full well thou aughtest to knowe me: Guy of Warrewik my name is, I am thy lemmans felawe, ywis.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Whan that maide herde this, That it was Guy, forsothe ywis, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Mercy, sir,' seide that faire may, 'Now within this thirde day Herin y shall spoused bee; But of oon thing rather y haue thought me, That y shall my-self slee That day he shall spouse me.' Guy answerd and seide, 'not so: All his wille thou shalt feyne to doo, And or he come to the Chirche yate Of other thinges he shall lakke: His hede fro the body shall flee, And forthe the lede y shall with me.' Guy fro thens he is goon, And as sone as he might come To the geayle anone he yede, And Terry than therof deliuered. 'Sir Terry,' he seide, 'now forthe thou gooMS. goon). (Nighte nor day spare thou nooMS. noon).) Right to Amys of the Mountaigne, That duelleth in the marches of Almaigne. On my behalue grete him swithe, And soiourne there, and make the blithe, Tyll y come, or other man for me.' 'Blithely, sir,' quoth Tirry the free. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guy lete him adowne of the towre thoo, Betaughte him to god, and lete him goo. Guy abode, and Terry forthe wente: Nighte ne daye he ne stente. So longe he is forthe goon, Till he to the Mountaigne is come. A castell ther was faire with-all, And a faire Citee closed with stone walle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . In-to that Citee he yede thoo, The chief palays he come to. He fonde Amys at Chesse pleying With his felawes, faire game holding. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir,' quoth Tirry, 'yf thy wylle bee, A worde y muste speke with the All priuely, y you beseche, That thise men here not oure speche.' Amys answerth, 'full gladly: I shall come to you full blithely.' Fro the Chesses he rosse tho, And to a wyndowe he cleped him to. 'Sir Amys,' seide Tirry, 'Ofte sithes you grette sir Guy; And hider to you he sente me,to me MS. For to soiourne here with the, Till that he may thider come, Or some other for him right sone.' 'Sir,' quoth Amys, 'moche thanke haue he, That he the sente hider to me. What is your name, sir free?' 'I shall you telle, sir,' quoth hee. 'Terry of Gormoyse my name is, Escaped stronge prison, y-wis.' 'Sir Terry,' thanne seide he, 'Thou art well-come in-to this contree.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thense he shuld for noo thing,This line is repeated in a later hand in the blank space left originally after l. 6384. Till he of Guy had some tidyng. OFF THE Duke y shall you telle, And of Guy, if it bee your wille. The Duke sente for his barons in haste, That they shull come all to his feste In-to the Citee of Pauye, All the knightes of lombardye. Whan the tyme come was, The Duke so gladde neuere nas. To the maide he come swithe, As he that was gladde and blithe. 'Lemman, all redy make thou the; This day thou shalt spoused bee.' 'Sir,' she seide, 'with good wille All thy heestes y shall fulfille.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Toward the Chirche wente he, With ioye to spouse the mayde free. Guy armeth him full hastly At his wille full stalworthly. . . . . . . . . . . A good stede he bee-strode, And after theim faste rode. Whan he theim had ouere-take, Contenaunce of loue he did noon make. 'Duke Otes,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me: Ne goo noo farther, y hote the. Remembre the of the treason That thou did to meSo MS. Guyon, As he come fro a turnement, Betwene Pauy and Boneuent; And sithe thou didist him grete treason, Whan thou toke Terry in-to thy prison; And heraude and his feeres echoon, All thou made theim in prison bee doon. I am the same Guy, that to the speke: Now y shall therof bee a-wreke.' Thurgh the body he him smotesmothe MS. anone Before the lombardes euerychoon, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And toke the mayde in his armes two, And sette hir before him, and conto MS. goo. Fast a-weyward than rode he: The noyse anone arosse in the Citee. With grete [strengthe] they folowed Guy, And he rode forth hastely And whan they him ne ouere-take might, Ayene they come to the body right. So longe forthe roden they, Tyll they come to thatthey MS. When they came to Amis's city, Citee Of Mountaigne, that so faire was, And in they wente with ioye and solas. Whan Guy in-to the halle come, Amys him knewe anone, And anone to him seide he, 'Sir Guy, well-come thou bee.' Whan the Erle Tyrry sawe sir Guy there And Oysell, that was him leef and dere, Moche ioye he made to Guy thoo, That maide he toke in his armes two. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Amonges theim was moche blisse, And there they soiourned, y-wis, At their wille in solas: Amys theim fonde all that nede was. ON A DAYE bethoughte Guy the free That longe soiourned ther haue they. Amys he cleped andon MS. Terry: 'Herken to me,' seide Guy. 'Tyme is that we vs dighte To helpe our felawes anone righte, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oute of prison theim to bringe: I nolde theim lete for noo thinge.' . . . . . . . . . . 'Sir,' quoth Amys, 'y shall goo with the, And .v. hundred of knyghtis bringe with me.' . . . . . . . . . . 'Graunt mercy,' seyde sir Guy, 'On the y truste, sikerly.' Amys sente for his knyghtis anone: Assembled he hath theim euery-chone. . . . . . . . . . . Whan they were all redy Forth they wente all hastely. Toward Gormoyse as they gooth In lorenge grete harme they dooth: They take Castelles and Citees, And so destroyeth all the Contrees. To Gormoyse than they bee come: Gladde they bee all and some, And ouere all other the Erle Aubry, Whan he sawe his sone Tyrry: . . . . . . . . . . There was ioye and moche blisse Betwene the fader and the sone, y-wis. Eche tolde other all his thoughte, And how Guy hath him fro deth broughte. Guy heraude foryete neuere a dele, Assembled he hath knyghtis fele. The Duke he harme gretly doo:So MS. He thoughte for to a-wreke him thoo. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . So longe they haue entreted so, With theim the Erle Amys also, That all they accorded bee, And for euere-more betwene theim treus and equite. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Than Guy noo lenger wolde duelle, But in-to his Contree retour se appele.So MS. GUYE OF the Duke his leeue take wolde, And he by his wille him yiue nolde. . . . . . . . . . . To the Erle Terry he yede tho, And thise wordes he seide him to: 'Sir Terry,' seide Guy, 'Now y shall goo, sikirly, To my Contree in-to Englonde (Of that wey y may not withstonde), My fader and my frendes to see: I ne wote if they alyue bee. Seuen yere and more goon it is That y was in my contreee,So MS. ywis. And if it bee-tyde so That thou haue any nede me to, . . . . . . . . . . Anone right sende after me, And y shall sone come to the. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ne were the loue of my lemman, I wolde neuere departe the fram. Therfor y woll not lette my wey At this tyme, truly, for to dey.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . At the departyng of theim two in fere Grete pitee was to see and here. GUYE lepe vpon a moyle amblyng, In the wey he doth him fast ryding. Terry belefte sorowe makyng For Guy his felawes wendyng. . . . . . . . . . . Guy ne stynte neuere ryding, Till he come to the see, withoute lesyng. Good wynde he hath and passeth sone: In-to Englond he cometh than anone. To Warrewik he gan him goo, There kyng Athelston was thoo. Whan he was to Warrewik come, With ioye he was welcome to all and some. The kyng ayenst him is goo With knyghtes and burgeys also; . . . . . . . . . . And with him soiourned Guy the free, And on a day at Chesses pleyden they: Foure men ther come to theim riding, Men of the contree free holding: To the king they seide, 'sir, vnderstonde: Harde tidinges we bringe the on honde. Bot ye sone take kepe therto, All your londe ye shull forgoo. There is come vpon thy londe A beest that woll it all shonde. Oute of Irlonde men seith it come: Full moche harme hit hath doon; For it leueth man ne woman noon, Bot theim sleeth euery-choon. . . . . . . . . . . It eteth the beestes and men also: This is trouth we telle you to. Neuere was noo best so kene. Grete heued it hath and grisely to sene. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As a somer he is brested on brede, And renneth swifter than any stede. He hath chaules as a lyoun. Men seith it as a dragon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The taille is grete and full long: In the worlde nys man so strong, Bee he armed neuer so, And he with taille smyte him to, Bot he shalbee dede anone: Ne shuld he neuere thense goone.' WHANNE the king herde all this That the men had tolde him, y-wis, A good while he sate in thoughte, That longe tyme speke he ne mighte. 'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'kare the noughte, Ne therfor take noo grete thoughte. In-to Northumberlond y shall wende, And if [y] may that best fynde, I him shall ouer-come with goddis mighte; For with him, sothly, y shall fighte.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Of the king his leeue he nome, And to his Inne he yede home. He lefte his felawes ther echon: Ther muste noon with him goon Bot heraude, that was good at nede, And other twoo knyghtis armed on stede. Whan they bee thider come, And knowe where the beest doth wone, Guy armed him, surely, And seide to his folke hastely That so hardy ther bee noon A fote farther for to goon. Guy is in-to a launde goo Where the dragon woned tho. Whan Guy sawe him so grisely, Of him he was not all trusty. With a spere he him smote strangly, That was keruyng sharply. The spere to shyuers al to-flighe, And the body ne come it not nyghe. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Benethe the wynges he him smote: Thurgh the body that swerde bote, That the body he karf in two: Dede he felled him to grounde tho. Hit gradde and yelled swithe lowde, That it schilled in-to the clowde. Guy withdrowe him therfro anone For the stenche that therof come. . . . . . . . . . . Whan that beest ther dede laye, For sothe telle y you may, That folke it mette of the contree How longe it was: wonder to see, Thritty fote longe of mesur he was, And not an ynche more ne lasse. The hede he smote the body fro, And forthe with him it bare tho. Come he is to his felaw-rede, That for him were in moche drede. To Warrewik than he is wente, With that hede the king to presente. The kyng was blithe and glad of chere That he sawe Guy hole and fere. At Warrewik he henge that hede anone: Many wondred theron anone full sone. Guy of the king his leeue nome, In-to his contree to wende home. To Walingford he is come, His free men there he fonde some, That of him were blithe alle That of him they herde so telle. To Warrewik he is than ryde To the Erle, that moche honour him dide, And all thoo of that contree For his comyng gladde were they. The Erle him honoured and all his: Withoute him ne kouthe he bee, y-wys. An huntyng they wente bothe in-fere To the wodes and to the Ryuer. Guy to his lemman is than goo, All his lif he tolde hir thoo. 'Sir Guy,' she seide, 'graunt mercy! And y the sey sikirly That y haue desired bee Of the richest of this contree,Reigne MS. And noon to loue nas my wille, Ne neuer noon loue y nelle Bot the, to whom y yiue me: To thy wille y shall alweys bee.' Guy hir kiste; so gladde he was, Neuere more ioyefull of noo cas. At hir than his leeue he nome, And to his Inne he wente home. Nyghte and day he made solas, Of hir loue thoo he siker was. THE ERLE on a day cleped his doghter to: Bifore hir moder he seide hir tho, 'Doughter, thou take the an housebonde. Thou art heire to all my londe. Dukes and Erles desire the, That come oute of farre contree: Noon of theim thou wolt take. How longe wolt thou bee withoute make?' 'Sir, y shall bethinke me, And telle you within thise dayes three.' Whan that it come to the thirde day The Erle cleped forth that faire may, Felice, that was so wise and free: 'Thy wille, doughter, telle thou me.' 'Sir,' she seide well louely, 'My wille y telle the blithely. There is Guy, your owne knyghte: In the worlde ther nys man of his mighte. Bot if y haue him to my make I woll neuere noon take.' 'Thou seist well, doughter,' seide he; 'Blissed of god mote thou bee! And to him therof speke y shall, And his answer therof the telle.' 'Guy,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me. Telle me thy wille, y bidde the: Yf thou thinke to wedde a wif Telle it me, my leef lyf.' Guy him answerd fote hote, 'In all the worlde noo woman y wote That y shall take bot it bee oon, That toucheth me in herte alloon.' 'Guy,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me: A doughter y haue, that wite ye. Noon heire y haue bot that may: Riche she shalbee after my day. Guy, take hir; y yiue hir the, And of all my londe lorde thou bee.' 'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'graunt mercy! This is a faire yifte, sikirly. Thy doughter well leuere me is In hir smokke alone, ywis, Than to wedde with all spaigne The Emperours doughter of Almaigne.' WHANNE the tyme was come Assembled there was many a gome, Dukes, and Erles, and knyghtis many oon That to the spousaille were boden echoon. That mayde was dighte full richely, And with grete worship hir spoused Guy. Whereto shuld y of more discrye? Of all manere thinges ther was grete plente. It was in may in somers tyde: Guy was at Warrewik in moche pride. From huntyng on a daye he is come, Grete plente of venyson he hath nome. Moche ioye he made and solas, So that in the euenyng so mery he was. The Contree he behelde aboute farre, And the skye thikke with sterre, And the weder that was mery and bright. Guy bethoughte him anone right That god him had so moche honour doo In all londes that he come to, That he come neuere in noo fighte Bot he was holde the best knyghte, And neuer for his creatour, That had doon him so grete honour. Sore to sighe he beganne, And in his mynde bethoughte him anone That all his lif he wolde chaunge tho, And in goddis seruyse he wolde him do. With that come the lady goyng, And, tho she fonde hir lorde so thinking, She seide, 'sir, concele it nought; Telle me sone what is your thought.' 'Lemman,' he seide, 'y shall the telle, And shewe the my hertes wille. Sithe that y first loued the In grete sorowe y haue bee: Than y haue for the doo Wrought moche sorowe and woo. And if y had doon so well, Withoute more the haluen dell Hadde for goddes loue wroughte, That in so moche honour had me broughte, In heuen, for sothe, y were, In blisse for euere angellis fere. And for him did y neuere nought; Therfor y am purposed in thought In goddis seruyse now to goo, To acquite some-what that y haue mysdoo; And of all the goodnesse that y doo shall, I graunte the euere haluendell; And toRead greet? thy fader Rouhaude, whan y am goo, And the Countasse, thy moder, also, And heraude of Ardern, y the beseche, And all my folke, that god y beteche. Whan the tyme cometh that thou hast childe, Thou loke it well, and bee to him mylde, For it kanne by him self goon. Heraude betake him than anoon. And this swerde, dame, y beteche the: To my sones behoue kepte it bee.' The lady he kyste anone right tho, For pitee ne might he speke wordes moo. Allas the Reuthe that was there tho! In swowe they felle bothe two. WHANNE Guy is risen of swownyng Awey he wente all sorowyng. 'Sir,' she seyde, 'vnderstonde me For goddis loue, or thou hense goo, pardee, A-byd and take thys ryng with the.' Gye toke of Felice that Rynge. Grete dole was in that departynge. Then wente forth sir Gyoun Oute of towne, that bolde baroun. He wolde speke with no wyght Ne with herawde, the trew knyght; But forth he wente to the see: At jerusalem feyne wold he bee, And in other holy lande, Ther holy men were lyuande. IN the courte felice belefte there. Her sorrow was euer more and more. 'Lord,' she seyd, 'what may I seye? How shall I leve thys ylke daye?' Her whyte handys can she wrynge, And downe she fell in sownynge. Her clothes she rent and her here: Was neuer woman that fared so ere. On her hand she brake the rynge: She was a well sory thynge. At the nayles the blode braste owt. Thys lyfe she had the nyght thorow-owte. Ofte she seyd, 'alas, alas!' Gret mornyng mad she in that place. Owt she toke a swerd bryght, And sett hyt to her herte Ryght, And thought to shede her herte blode, For she had lorne her lord goode. But than she be-thought her wyselye That she shulde do grete Folye. She had a chyld her with-ynne: To sle that it were grete synne, And she myght not her selfe sloo But she slew her chyld also. And also she thought in her manere, When he wyste her fader dere, Her fader and her fryndys all Shuld in sorrow and in synne fall; For they wold sey sir Gyoun Had her slayne or he wente owte of towne. There-fore it had be grete folye Yf she had sleyne her selfe in hye. Of all the nyght had she no reste, No more than had a wylde beste. On the morrow she rose anone, And to her fader gan she gone. 'Fader,' she seyd, 'wyte ye nought? Wykyd tydyngis I haue brought: My lord ys wente oute of this contre. Shall ye neuer here-after hym see. In excile now ys he gone: For sorrow I shall my selfe slone.' With that she fell to the grounde, And swounyd thryes in a lytyll stoun le. He seyd, 'doughter, leve thy mornyng. I may hyt leve for no thynge, That he wold wende in excile, Other to put hym in such peryle. Day and nyght he was full yepe How he myght thy love kepe.' 'Nay,' she seyd, 'so muste I thee, Ye shall hym neuer efte see.' Vp he rose, and dwellyd nought, Thorought the towne he hath hym sought. When they no-where found syr Gye, After hys men he sente in hye, And tolde hem all that sir Gye Was gon, and no man wyste whye. When they wyste that tydynge, All for Gye made mornynge. When sir herrawd herd seye That hys lord was wente aweye, He lefte neuer nyght ne daye, But grete sorrow he made aye. 'Syr,' he seyd, 'what may I seye, Now I haue loren my lord free? I dred that I shall hym neuer see. I red yow sende your messengere Thorought thys lande far and nere. And yf he be not founde here He ys att loreyne with hys fere, Wyth the Erle good terrye, Whom he lovyth specyallye.' A messyngere forth he sente, And all the land thorough he wente; But when he found hym not there Home a-geyne he com full yare, And seyd he had the lond sought, But of sir Gye herde he nowght. Tho thought herraude he wold fonde To seche hym in other londe. He toke two messengerys wyght, Both a squyer and a knyght, And yaue hem treasure gret plente, And bad hem wende be-yonde the see To euery londe and euery towne, To aspye tydyngis of sir Gyoune. Herraud hym selfe forth ys gone, Wede of palmer he toke vpone. The Erle of Warwyke sone he fonde, And by-toke hym all hys londe, And seyd, 'in wede of a palmere I wyll Gye seche fere and nere In euery stede and in euery londe There he hath bene in be-fore-hande.' When the Erle saw herrawd so dyght, 'Thow arte,' he seyd, 'a trew knyght.' Herrawd went forth, the Erle left there. To the see he come full yare: Shyp he founde and passyd in hye. Comyn he ys into normandye, From thense to fraunce and burgoyne, To almayne and to sosayne: Herd he neuer man speke with mouth That owte of Gye tell cought. Than he though[t] hym shente: Into ynglond ys he wente. All that londe was well sory, For he myght not fynde sir Gye: Kyngis, Erlys, and barouns, All made dole for sir Gyouns; For they wende vtterly Neuer to haue seyne hym with eyȝe. As we fynde in storye Now speke we of sir Gye. All that yere Gye hath gone Thorowgh-owte landys many on, All hethenesse thorrow and thorrowe Ryght to ierusalem ys borrowe. Full longe wold he not dwell thare, Furthermore wold he fare Thorough all the hethen contree. To Antyoche, the riche Cytee, As he wente in that contrey Halfe the day a grette jorney, Vndyr a bussch ther he fonde A pore pylgryme syttande. He semed well a saryzen. He had gret sorrow and pyne. He semed a man of gret lynage. He had gret eyen and gret visage: Hys hed was white, hys berd was longe. He semyd a bold man and a stronge. He made dole ouer all thynge. Gye had pyte of hys mornynge. He drow hys berd, he brake hys here: In sowne he fell oftyn there, And seyd 'alas' that he was borne: Herd sorrow was hym be-forne. 'Pylgrym,' quod Gye, 'what arte thow? Whi makyste thow such sorrow now? I se full well be thy chere Thou arte agrevyd in som manere. Tell me now, I byd the In the name of the trinite.' 'Good man,' quod the pylgrym, 'Thou hast me bedyn at thys tyme That I shall [tell] wherefore and whye That I am thys drerelye. I wene thow shalt haue gret pyte When I haue told the sothe to the. I was a dowty man of honde, And to me there fyll much lande. I was a man bold and wyght: Erle Ionas some tyme I hyght. I had sonnes full fyftene, And bold men and kene. I wene there was neuer man levande, Syth crystendome was brought in hand, That had so many sonnes wyght: Euerych was a man att all ryght. All they be take fro me a-weye: Alas that euer I sye thys daye! Att a batayle I was stronge; The sarzins dyd grete wronge: To Ierusalem com they were, And dystroyed all that was there: I gaderyd an hoste of meny a towne Owte of the crysten nacion, I com to that bateyle thann: There dyed many a dowȝty man. I and my sonnes fyftene Mad the sarzins for to flene. In that tyme tokyn we Sevyn amerallys and kyngis thre. I and my sonnes chasyd thorough the lande A kyng that was fast fleande: Hys name was kyng tryamoure, A paynyme he was of gret honoure. To Alysaunder he fled full ryght, There he was kyng of mykyll myght. There we dyd foly stronge, For we chasyd hem to longe. There were redy in a wode Two hundreth knyȝtis goode. Oute of the wod they cam anon, And ouercome euerychone. Meny of hem we woundyd sare: For nothyng wold we spare. Oure good stedys gan they sloo: Tho come to vs full mykell woo. On fote we faught faste than, And slow of hem many a man. Or we wold vs yeld hem to The beste of hem were for-do. We defendyd vs all wey well Tyll oure swerdys brake of stele. When we saw no better socoure We yeld vs to kyng tryamore. We made with hym such comnaunte, And therto we held vp oure hande, That we shuld for grete raunsom Bene delyuerd owt of hys prisoun. To Alysaunder he dyd vs fare, And put vs in hys prison thare: Mete and drynke we had full small, Carefull lyfe we led with-all. Hit is twelfe yere and mare That we haue bene in this care. Hyt be-fell vpon a tyde That the sowdan with mykyll pryd, Lord to the kynge tryamore, Made a feste of gre[t] honore: Thrytty kyngis were there full ryght, The sowdan ys men and to hym Iplyght; Amerallys there were fourty, That were redy vnto hys crye. Thedyr wente the kyng tryamoure, And hys son, sir faboure: He was a yong man and a wyght, And a new-dubbyd knyght. Att the thyrd day of that feeste, That wa[s] so riche and so honeste, When they had etyn, and made hem at ease, And seruyd all thyng to theire please, The sowdan ys sonne a-rose full ryght (Syr sadoyne of percy he hyght): 'Faboure,' he seyd, 'I byd the, Come pley at the chesse with me.' 'Syr,' quod fabour, 'with myn entente I wyll do youre commaundmente.' To fabourssabours MS. yn tho they wente, And after chesse sone they sente. Tho they setten the fyrste assise, They were wroth or they gan Ryse: At a cheke that fabour seyd Sadoyne was wroth, and gan vp-brayd. For he was matyd so sone there, Wyth a Roke he smote hym sore; Vppon the heed he brake the browe: Abowt the shulders the blod ganlooks like qan. Rowe. 'Syr sadoyne,' quod faboure,saboure MS. 'Thow hast me do grete dysshonoure When thow hast broken my hede. The grace of Mahoun be me be-revyd, Yf thow ne were mi Lordys sonne, Thow shuldyst abye that thow hast done.' 'Traytoure,' quod sadoyne, 'what seyst thow? Hast thow me manessid here nowe? In Euyll tyme thow it thought: Thyne deth thow hast wrought.' With hys fyste he wold hym smyte, But faboure thought it was dispyte: Vppon hys fete he gan stonde, And toke the cheker in hys honde. He smote sadoyne vndyr the ere: He fell downe and dyed there. When Fabour sye that he was dede, He Fled fast from that stede. He went as faste as he myght renne Home to hys faders Inne, And told hys fader how he had slone Sadoyne, the sowdan ys sonne onne.To be struck out? Kyng tryamoure was adrad sare, And for that dethe he gan to care. Vppon her horse they lepyn in hye (In there hertis they were sorye), Faste fleand to Alexaundre, Or of hem rose ony slaundre. Oute of the londe tho they wente, Or eny wyste that sadoyne was shente. When they come to the Citee, Full sory and carefull tho was hee. When that wyste that fell sowdan, That sadoyne, hys sonne, was slayne, He was sory, that grete syre, And he was full of tene and ire. He beryed hys son Richelye, And thought to avenge hym in hye. HE sent to tryamoure the kyng, As to a manaman MS. that he louyd no-thynge, And bad hym com to hym on hye, And defend hym of that felonye, And bryng with hym hys son faboure, That slow hys sonne, that foule treytoure: But he wold do hys commaundement He shuld be slayne and brente, Or ellys such Iugement suffer there As in hys courtcontrey MS. ordeyned were. The kynge dyght hym full yare, And to the sowdan can he fare, And with hym fabour, the good knyght, Be-fore the sowdan com full ryght. The sowdan askyd hym anone How he had hys sonne slone: Yf he myght hym not defende, Thorough deth hys deth heit MS. shuld amende. Forth he brought a blake sarzine: A fowler thefe dranke neuer wyne. He was blake as any piche, Men saw neuer none suche. Hys breste was brode, his body grete: He was thykker than a nete. Comyn he ys oute of ynde, A feller thefe shuld no man fynde. There be none thre at that londe That durste ageyne that one stonde. He was a fote and a halfe more Than eny man that euer was bore. Yf the kyng durste with hym fyght, And prove on hym with mayne and myght That sir Sadoyne was neuer dede Thorough hym ne thorough hys sonnys rede, Yf he myght hym to deth brynge, He shuld go quyte of all thynge. Syr tryamoure had drede stronge Of that Geaunte gret and longe. Neuer the lesse a-monge hem all thereall thre there MS. He forsoke that the sowdan on hym bere, And seyd that sadony was neuer dede Thorough hym ne thorough his sonnus rede; And an hole yere of trewes [was] tane And fourty dayes till it be gane. Suche is the law of that contree, Euer was, and euer shall bee: And yf he durste not with hym fyȝte, He shuld fynde a nother knyght. Home to Alysaundre hys he wente, After hys barons he hath sente, And dyd crye thorough that londe, Yf he eny man fonde That durst that bateyle take in honde, He shuld yeve hym halfe hys londe; But he ne founde no man so wyght That durste with that geaunt fyght. He toke me than owte of prisoun, And askyd me tho than reasoun Yf I knew euer any knyght That durste with the Geaunte fyght. Full riche man he wold hym make, And do me worshyp for hys sake: He shuld haue gold gret plentee And halfe hys land euer more free. I seyd, 'I know none such of name;' For to lye me thought shame. 'In none contre ne in no londe Is none that durste it take in honde But it were Gye, the noble knyght, That all men seyn ys so wyght. Yf I myght hym fynde in eny contre Other herrawd, to fyght for the Thow myghtist be seker, with-owt fayle, For to wynne that bateyle.' When the kyng, that stode me bye, Herd speke of herrawd and of sir Gye, Hys ryght hond he leyd on me, And seyd, 'but I haue helpe of the Shall I neuer of man levande Haue helpe, I vndyrstonde. Yf I myght haue sir Gye, I were seker of the mastrye, Other sir herrawd, the knyȝt herdye: Be-fore all other I desyre sir Gye.' He seyd, 'to englond shalt thow fare, To loke yf he be founden thare. Yf he may not fownden be, Loke sir herrawd com with the: I wyll then delyuer the owt of prison And all thy sonnes with-oute rawmsom, And thow shalte haue for thi seruice, Yf thow wylte be ware and wyse, And to me be both trew and hold, Ten somers chargyd with gold.' Then swere I there in all manere To bene hys trew messyngere; And yf I found of hem none, I shuld com home alone: I shuld be hangyd on a galow tree And my fyftene sonnus with me. Out of that lond went I in hye, A carefull man and a sorye. I went ryght vnto allmayn, And forth to fraunce and to spayne, Syth to pollayne and to Sesayne, To pavy and to burgayne; Sethen I wente to ynglonde, And asked euery man that I fonde; Sethyn to warwyke dyd I me, There he was wonte lord to be: Herd I no man speke with mouth That ought of Gye tell couth, Ne of sir herrawd ne of sir Gye, And therfore a sory man was I. But hys men vppon a daye Seyden that they herd saye That Gye was wente in excile I-passyd a full longe while, And sir herrawde is forth wente To sech Gye with all hys entente. Lenger wold I dwell there nought, In many londis I haue hym sought: Myght I neuer fynde man That owte of Gye tell can. Now I come heder this ilke daye, And reste me here be the weye. Hit is twelmonythis and more Sythen that I fro the kynge gan fare. Now wyll I wende to hym a-geyne: Well I wote I shall be slayne; But for the deth wyll I not flee To yeve answere how it bee, For I haue hym my trowth plyght To com a-geyne to hym full ryght. Well I wote I shall be dede And also my sonnes with-owte rede. Of my selfe yeve I nought, But of my sonnes is all my thought; For they be knyghtis bold and wyght, And well assayd in meny a fyght. Yf they myght leve and old men bee, They myght much helpe crystiante. Now to hym wyll I fare, And take the deth with hem thare.' With that he sowned be-fore sir Gye; Therfor he was full sorye. Gye had sorrow and much care, For he saw Ionas so fare. 'Leefe pilgrym,' quod sir Gye, 'For thy sonnes thow arte sorye: Gye and herrawd hast thow sowght In meny londys, and foundyst hem nought. Thought thow make doel hit is no ferlye, When thow ne foundyst nother herraud ne Gye: Thorough hem thow hopedist to delyuerd be Of prison and thi chyldre free. I was in myn owen londe Som tyme a doughty man of hande: Now for the love of god all-myght, That he me yeve grace to fyght, For Gye and herrawdys sake That bateyle for the wyll I take, And thorow the grace of hevyn-kyng Thy sonnes of prison shall I bryng.' When Erle Ionas herd sir Gye, That he was so bold and so hardye To do that bateyle yf he myght, And with that grete Geaunte for to fyght, He devysed hym full well, Hede and fote, euery deale. He sye hys body gret and longe, And well I-made to be stronge, Wyth bones grete and bare of flesshe. He semyd a man of wildernesse: Hys berd was longe and thike of here. He lokyd on hym full ofte there. 'Syr,' he seyd, 'for thy reason Haue thow goddys benyson; But thow knowest not that paynym That ys so much and so gryme; For, and yf he lokyd angyrlye Ons on the with hyshye MS. eye, He wold the so a-gaste make, That thow shuldyst the bateyle for-sake.' 'Pylgryme,' quod Gye, 'dred the nowght. God ys myghtfull as I haue thought. Many on hath provyd to do me scathe, And with hys eyen lokyd wrathe, Yet fled I neuer fro hym in bateyle. I tryste on god, he wyll not fayle. Though thow thinke I feble be, HeAnd he MS. ys of so grete poweste, That he may yeve me grace & myght To slee that Geaunte in that fyght.' 'Sir,' quod the pilgrym, 'graunt mercye! He that was borne of that mayd marye Yelde the or thow be dede.' For joye he sowned in that stede. 'My frende,' quod Gye, 'so haue I hele, Go we forth, we shall fare wele.' To Alysaunder they them dyght, To-fore the kyng they com full ryght. When the kyng Erle Ionas sawe, Vnneth he cowth hym knowe. 'Sir Ionas,' quod the kyng than, 'Where is Gye, that noble man, Other herrawd that thow hast sowght? Hast thow Eny of hem brought?' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'I will yow seye: I will not lye, be this daye. I have hem sowght longe and fferre: Herrawd ne Gye found I nether. I was full fer into Englond, And asked all that I fonde. They seid that Gye is in excile wente, Therfor that londe is now nere shente, And sir herrawd hath take his weye To seke Gye both nyght and daye. But I have browȝt a noble knyȝte, That in armes is bold and wyȝte: For yow he will do this bateyle, With helpe of god he shall not fayle. He shall well defende your ryght, And with that false paynyme fyght.' Quod the kyng to Erle Ionas, 'Loke thow lye not in this case. Yf I be trayed thorought the rede of the, Full hye hangyd shalt thow be, And thi sonnes euery-chone With wikyd deth shall dye anone.' 'I Graunte,' quod Ionas, 'that ye seye: God vs helpe, that beste maye.' The kyng clepyd sir Gyoune, And told hym a gret reasoune. 'Pylgryme,' he seyd, 'what is this name?' Then he seyd, 'Iohn, with-owten blame.' 'Leve frende,' then seyd the kyng, 'Tell yowRead þow? me with-owte lesynge, Where were thow borne & in what londe? Was there no brede ne corne growande?' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'in Englonde Was I borne and moste dwellande: Sethen that I was dubbyd knyȝte, I haue bene in meny fyght.' 'Arte thow Englissh,' quod the kyng, 'I owte to hate the ouer all thinge. Knew thow owte sir Gyoun And herrawd, the bold baroun? They be dowȝty men of hand, Yf they be in the world levand. I owght to hate Gye with grete Ire: He slowe my fader, the kyng of tyre, And he slow my Eme with his honde, The sowdan, at his mete sittand: I saw hym smyte of his hede, And with myȝt and streng[t]h a-wey hit leede. Awey he prikyd ther-with full faste: All we chasyd hym at the laste. The devyll hym savyd, that he was not slone, But he slow of vs meny one. Lord Mahoun wold he were here! Than wold I make well good chere. Yf that he wold fyght for me, Also for-yeve shuld hyt be.' Gye answeryd full curteslye, 'Syr,' he seyd, 'full well know I Gye And herrawd also; both two I know hem well, so must I goo. Yf ye had herraw[d]e other Gye, Ye were seker of the mastrye.' 'Tell me,' quod [the] king than, 'Whi arte thow so lene a man? An onkynd man hast thow seruyd aye, When thow departidyst so power aweye, Eyther hit is thyn folye, That thow departist secretlye.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'well may fall, But myn Estate know ye not all. For soth, I was in good servyse: My lord me lovyd in all wyse. For hym I had grete honoure Of kyng, prince, and maydens in bowre. But for a lytill hastines All I loste, both more and lesse. Tho went I fro my contree, Tyll it myght after better be. Thus will I walke in this estate, Tyll his wrath be abate. When he and I accordyd be, Then will I wende to my contree.' Now quod the kyng so free, 'Will thow this bateyle take for me? Or ellys I shall Gett another. Tell thow me, my leve brodyr.' Gye seyd, 'therfor com I hedyr, I and Ionas to-geder. With helpe of god in trinite This bateile will I take for the, And sle the paynym with my honde, With that thow graunte me this covenaunde, That Ionas and his sonnes ecchone Shall be delyuerd, and that anone.' The kyng seyd, 'I the graunte. Mahoun me helpe & turmegaunte.' 'Nay,' quod Gye, 'but Mary is sonne, That for vs on the rode was done: He be myn helpe for his mercye; For I the sey well sikerlye That Mahoun hath no poweste Nother to helpe the ne me.' Quod the kyng, 'my frende so dere, I wyll make a covenaunte here. Yf thow myght the Geaunte sloo, And bryng me owt of my woo, Thi god for the love of the Grete honoure shall haue of me. All crysten that I haue taken here Shall be delyuerd with good chere. In all my lond of Alexaundre Men shall not the crysten dere. Ther shall be none in hethenes, Man ne woman, more ne lesse, That ys of crystiante But he here shall delyuerd be; And such a statute shall I make For the and for goddes sake, That all crysten her wey shall wende Thorough-owt this land fayre & hende, And, yf any be so hardye To do them shame other villany, Be he neuer so bold ne stowte, He shall be hanged with-owte dowȝt.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'graunte mercye! This [is] a feyer graunt, sekerlye.' The kyng bad he shuld bathed be, 'And yf hym Robes two or thre: All his desire be hym brought; Loke that hym wante nowght.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'hold the styll. Hit is nothing my will Riche Robis for to have: I am now but a pore knave. Mete and drynke geve me my fill, And then haue I all my wyll.' The kyng bad than that he shuld have All that euer he wold crave. The terme ys now come full sone, That the bateyle shuld be done: The kyng was nobley dyȝte And all his baronage stoute and wyght: To the sowdan will they fare. Forth they went, and that full yare. Sir Gye was armed and well dyght As it fell to a worthi knyȝt. On he had a good hawberke: Hit was of a full good werke. In fer lond was hit wrought, And to the kynge for a present brought. When hit com to Ierusalem, Hit shone as the son beame. A theef hit stale with robberye, And brought hit to Alexandrye. The auncetres of kyng tryamoure Kepte hit with a gret tresoure. Hit was take forRead fro? tresorye At that ned to sir Gye. Thritty wynters and well more Was hit not on-folden ore: Hit was so clere and so bryght, All the hall shone of the lyght. He had an helme of oold werke, On euery syd styfe and sterke. Who that on his hed hit bere Shuld not be convicte in were. Hit was Alexaundris the kyng: He hit wan at a fyghtyng. He slow the kyng priamoure therfore, And wanne there much more. He bare a swerd in hys honde: Ectour, the good knyȝt, hyt fonde. Ther-with the grekis many one, Or he lese [hyt], had he slone. He wold have yove for the fyndyng The weyght of gold and of other thyng. He had a ryght noble targe: Hit was grete, stronge, and large. There was no thyng that myght hit dere, Knyfe, ne swerd, ne sharpe spere. When he was dight all thus sir Gye, The paynyms of hym had ferlye. Euerych askyd other what he myght be, Whens he com and fro what contre That for the kyng shuld fyght: Saw they neuer a fayrer knyght. The kyng seyd than to the sowdan, 'Heryth me now anon. I am com be-fore yow here To deffend me in all manere Of that wiked felonye That was put on me wikydlye. Thorough this knyght that stondyth here I will prove that youre son dere Thorough his owen pursuet was dede, My sonne defendaunte of that quede.' 'Kyng,' quod the sowdan, 'hast thow [hym] brought, Hit shall sone be don I have thought.' He bad bryng forth that Geaunte, Of ynd a paynym, ameraunte. He was armyd noblye: Euery man of hym had ferlye. His body was gret and swith longe: He semyd to be wondyr stronge. When Gye saw that ilke paynyme, That was so much and so gryme, 'Iesu,' quod sir Gye than, 'Hit is the devyll, it is no man. Who shuld euer hys stroke stonde With-owten deth? noman levand!' Forth they wente to that bateyle Hastily, with-oute fayle, In a feld with-owte the Cyte: Ther was hyt ordeyned to be. When they com there they shuld fyght, They daltyn strokis anone ryght. Tho they smytten to-geder faste, Euer whiles her sperys wold laste; But full sone that ylke tyde They brokyn on pecys hem besyde. Then drew the[y] swerdys of good stele, And fawght to-gedyr nobly wele. Ameraunte hys swerd drew owte: Hyt was well sharpe all abowte. Hyt was Ercules swerd the wyght: He had hyt borne in many fyght, And therwith slayne many a mane. Ameraunte hym selfe hyt wane. Hyt was put in water of hell, Therfor hyt was kene and fell. But god of hevyn thynke on Gye, He shall be ded full hastilye. With wrath sterte forth ameraunte, To Gye he made a gret assawte. Then to-Gedyr gan they fyght, And daltyn strokis anone ryght. Ameraunte smote Gye on the helme ryȝt With hys swerd, that was so bryght: He fellyd the flowres all a-bowte Of hys helme, that was so stoute, That was neuer blemysshed ere In no bateyle where it were. Thorough hys sadyll he smote also Hys good sted evyn in two, And yet fell the stroke down thore To the erth a fote and more. Sir Gye fyll to ground anone; Hys good stede vnder hym was slone. 'Lord,' he seyd, 'god all-myȝte, That madyst both day and nyght, Sheld me from deth to-daye, For well I wot that thow maye. Kepe me, for thi swete grace, That I be not slayne in this place.' Vpon hys feete he sterte full lyght, As he that bold was and wyght. He toke hys swerd with gret envye, And smote Ameraunte tho in hye. Of the helme the stroke glode, And by the horse the stroke rode. The stedys neke he smote in two: The Geaunte fell to the erth tho; But vp he stert with-owte dwellyng: Therof pleyned he no-thyng. He smote to Gye with all hys myȝt, And he hym, as a noble knyȝt. Tho they fowghten ryght faste there: Nother of hem wold other spare. They fowght with so grete Ire: Oute of ther helmis sprange the fyre. They breke hawberkishawberberkis MS. & shyldys: The pecis flew in-to the fyldys. They fought so faste with her brondys: They corue theire armour with streng[t]h of handys. Be-twene them was bateyle stronge, And hyt lastyd swyth longe. Tho thought Ameraunt thetho MS. knyght That he had be in many a fyght: Vp he lyfte his arme on hye, And thought to smyte sore sir Gye. On the helme he hym smote, The sercle of gold of hys swerd bote. The swerd went down by hys chyne, The good sheld hyt stekyd Inne. Then to Gye he stert well stoute, And with so gret Ire he drow yt oute, That on knees he fellyd sir Gye; But vp he sterte full hastilye. Then was hys herte full of tene: 'Lady,' he seyd, 'hevyn quene, Never, sith I was borne in londe, Knelyd I erste for stroke of hande.' Vp he caught hys swerd good, And smote the Geaunte ther he stode: With all hys streng[t]h & all hys myȝt Vppon the helme he hyt hym Ryght. He fellyd hys sercle sett with stonys, That was Riche for the nonys. The aventaile, that was so thyke, Held no more than a styke. He karve the Flessh, the swerd in yode: Hys face was coueryd all with blode. Hys good hawberke he all to-reefe, The good shyld all to-cleefe. In the shyld the swerd with-stode: Of that stroke sir Gye thought good. As he wold the swerd draw owte, Ameraunte, that was so stoute, On knees and handys he mad hym fall; But vp he sterte forth with-all, As a bold man and a wyght, And hys swerd he hent a-none ryght. He smote full faste to sir Gye, And he to hym, full hardelye. The erthe dynned all abowte Of her strokis herd and stowte. The fyre flye from her helmys bryght: That was a well strong fyght! Men [sayden] that syen that bateyle, So faste eche other gan assayle, That such a fyght was neuer be-forne Of creatures that were of women borne. The sonn was hote, the wedyr was clere, As ye mowe in the story here: The morne after seynt Iohns daye In somers tyd, as I yow seye, This bateyle was ordeyned soo Betwene these noble knyghtis two. A Meraunte stode styll ryght As a man that was wery of fyght. For hys blode that was aweye, And for the hete of the daye He was grevyd for thryste so sore, That he muste drynke, or dye ryght thore. 'Abyde,' he seyd, 'thow noble knyght: Founde I neuer none so wyght. Fourty Geauntis haue I slayne: Strenger saw thou neuer nane; Yet ne founde I neuer knyght, Yf that I hyt hym a-ryght, That myght stond me eny whyle, But he was slayne with-in a myle, But thow alone this ilke daye. Tell me, knyght, by the laye, Where were thow borne? in what londe, That thow arte so dowghty man of honde?' 'Lysten,' quod Gye, 'and thow shalte here: I will the tell in fayre manere. I was borne in Englonde, And crystoned with pristis honde. Now am I here for this thynge To defende triamoure the kynge That was wronge on hym leyd, And with false wittenesse seyd.' 'Arte thow Englysshe?' quod ameraunte. 'Lord It wold Termagaunte, That thow were sir Gye, the noble knyȝte, That all men seyen ys so wyght! A glad man shuld I be one: Hys hede were myn a-none. Hit shall neuer be restoryd a-geyne That he & his men haue distroyed and slayne. He and his men with-oute bateyle Slowen on a day, with-owten fayle, Fourty thowsand of oure men, And of hem were not dede ten. Yf he were slayne in ony gyse, And eke sir herrawd the wise, Of all that in the world were Ne yave I not an here.' 'Wherfor,' quod Gye, 'arte thow wroth? Dyd they the ony lothe? Hit were gret synne and shame To slee sir Gye with-oute blame.' 'Nay,' he seyd, 'it were no synne, But greate honoure for me to wynne.' Quod ameraunte to hym thanne, 'Here thow me, thow crysten manne! Hit is grete hete, as thow mayste see: For thi goddis love and thi crystiantee, Yeve me, leve, yf hit be thi will, Ons leve to drynke my fill. For thryste I haue so much woo: Me thynketh my herte will breke in two. And yf so be thow slow me here Thus for thurste in any were, Schuldyste thow neuer preysed be Here ne in no contre, But grete shame hit were for the. This respite I aske of the For his love that dyed on tree, And such a covenaunte I make with the, Here-after, yf nede bee, Yf thow thirste, and will drynke here, I will the graunte with well good chere.' 'Syr,' quod Gye, 'thow seyst wele. Go drynke I-nough, be seynt myghell.' When he herd that word than He was a full Ioy-full man. He opyned vmber that tyde, And keeled hym on euery syde. He dranke Inowgh at his wyll, And euer stode Gye ther stone styll. When he com sir Gye nere He resoned hym on this manere. 'Sir knyght,' he seyd, 'yeld the now: Thow shalt be dede sone as I trow. Of thi prow haddyst thow no thought, Of thi deth lytill thow rought, When thow in thyn herte myȝ[t] thynkeMS. myȝthynke To yeve me leve for to drynke. My maner I shall the saye: Had I fought all the somers daye Fro the morrow to the derke nyght, Yf that I ons drynke myght, In the world is none so dowghty a knyght, That I nere hardy with hym to fyght. Deffende the now,' quod ameraunte. 'Yes,' quod Gye, 'with-oute defendaunte.' They smyt to-gedyr at the laste With swerdis on her helmis faste. Now there begynneth a gret bateyle, Eche gan other faste assayle: Here none wold, for deth to drede, Flee from other owte of that stede. Her strokis were so vnryde, Her armoure brake vnto the hyde. Her helmys breke and her schyldys: The pecis flew in-to the fyldys. The mayles of her good hawberkis Sprongen owte as it were sperkis. They fall on knees full ofte both: Hit semyd well that they were wrothe. Ameraunte with Grete Envye With all hys myȝte he smote sir Gye: The creste of hys helme he hyt so, That he smote yt evyn in two; And a grete pece of hys sheelde He smote a-weye in-to the feelde, And into the erthe a fote and more: All spake therof that were thore. Of that dynte Gye had wondre: Hys armoure smetyn was in sondre, But his Flessch had no scathe: He thankyd god of hevyn rathe. But he was astonyed swyth sare: Therof he had grete care. To hym he had gret Envye, That he ne were a-vengyd hastylye. He smote Ameraunte the knyght, He smote hym in the shild ryght Halfe a fote and som dele more: Therwith the Geauntis flessh he shore. Therwith a-bakwarde drew sir Gye; For he was a-thryst, sykyrly. 'For my love I the praye, Geve me leve to drynke this daye. I am so a-thriste, I may not stonde, Ne hold my swerd vnneth in hande. I pray the now of drynke thi grace, Other I for thryste dye in this place. Do me now that ilke deed That I dyd to the in thy nede, That thow me hyght vtterlye With-oute ony shame or velanye, I shuld me reste vtterly at my wyll, And drynke therto all my fill.' Quod ameraunte, 'so muste I the, Thou shalt haue no leve for me. I will ryght here a-none the sloo, Or thow shalte to the water goo.' 'For Iesu crystes love,' seyd sir Gye, 'Gentill knyȝt, now mercy. Yf I were in this stede For strengith of thriste done to dede, Shuldyst thow neuer preysed be Here ne in no contre. Do now as an hende knyght, And abyde a lytill wight, Till I haue dronke as I haue tight: Than to-gedir will weMS. I. fyght. Then shall we seen sone in hye Who shall haue the maistrie.' 'Nay,' seid ameraunte, 'be my honde, I will to no covenaunte stonde For this Cite full of treasure, That I ne shall distroye kyng triamoure. When I haue smytten of thine he[v]ed, And kyng triamoure his honour be-revyd, The sowdan be-hyght me his land, And therto he held vp his ryght honde. The sowdan hath a dowȝter dere, She is feyer in all manere: I haue her desyred ouer all thyng; I shall her haue, that mayden yenge. My frend,' he seyd, 'yeld the nowe: Hit shall be much for thi prowe. Do of all thine armoure as tyte, Yf thow wilt passe with thi lyfe quyte: But thow wilt I shall the sloo, For-soth, or thow to water goo.' Then answeryd sir Gye full hastilye, 'That shall neuer be, full sekerlye. I wold not that for all this londe, While I may endure on fote to stonde Certes, I will not yeld me in this fyght, While that I haue ony mayne or myȝte.' 'Sey me,' quod the paynyme thann; 'Well I wote thow arte a crysten man: I se well thow arte both bold & wyȝte, And me thow haste full yll I-dyght; For I haue many a sore wounde, And thou arte both hole & sounde. So god of hevyn the shyld fro shame, Tell me here now thi ryght name. With that forward thow make no lesynge, Thow shalt haue of me all thyn askynge. Thow seyst thy name ys clepid Iohn: Thow hast a nother name, be my crown. Certes, yf thow aryght so clepyd were, Hit were more knowen, be my swere.' 'I shall the seye,' quod Gye than, 'So thow tell it to no notherman. My name ys Gye of warwyke: I trow thow wilt me not be-swyke. I fyght for kyng triamoure With-owte any more tresoure.' When ameraunte herd full ryght That he was sir Gye, the noble knyȝt, 'Sir,' he seyd, 'be hevyn kyng, Now haue I my desire in all thyng. Well art thow now fownden here. I fynd hit soth in all manere That many man hath seyd of the. Yeld the now ryght here to me. I shall haue my will to-day Of that I haue longid aye. Certeis, thyn hed here will I of smyte, And bere hit to the mayde also tyte. Now shall thow well vndyrstond That I wold not for all this lond Onys to let the drynke all thi fyll: Then myȝt I hope te sped full yll.' 'Kyng of heven,' quod sir Gye, 'But I drynke shortly I dye.' He hath thouȝt for all hys saw To wend and drynke a litill thraw. He toke his cours & Ran full ryȝt: Drynke he muste, or fall down tyght. Ameraunt gan faste after to goo With hys swerd hym for to sloo. Gye stert in-to the water depe: But Iesu cryste hym ther did kepe, Out of the water shall he not wyn: He was nere-hand a-drownyd theryn. Now ys Gye in a stronge case: The water ouer hys gyrdyll was. Hys hed he smote depe down: The water was ouer hys crown. Ameraund smote at hym so wele, That in the water he made hym knele. The water hym closyd all abowte: He held hym in, he myght not oute. When sir Gye had dronke I-nough He thankyd god, and faste he lough. Vp he sterte as knyȝt full stoute: The water ran down hym all abowte. He shoke hys hed, & seyd full ryght: 'I-thankyd be Iesu full of myȝte. In cold water hast thow bathid me, But name had I none for the.' Oute of the water he made a sawte, Anon he smote to Ameraunte. An hard bateyle ther began: They fowȝt with gret hertis than. They thouȝt how eche myȝt other scath: Were they neuer be-fore so wrath. 'Theef,' quod Gye, 'haue thow mawgrye. I-thankyd be god in trynite: Now am I colyd at my wyll, And therto haue dronke all my fill. In the shall I neuer affye; For thow arte a treytour, sekerlye.' Tho they fowghten to-gedyr faste, While the somers day wold laste: Tyll hit come to the mone lyght, Euer fast gan they fyght; Yet couth no man the soth seye, Who bare hym best that ilke daye. The Geaunte had a venu caste, And sir Gye counteryd hym at the laste. The ryght hand was the swerd with-yn: Gye smote hyt of with Ioye and wyn. When the Geaunt was wounded sare, Hys hert was full of Ire and care. Vp he toke his good bronde Full sone in hys lyfte honde: Twenty sawtes he mad to sir Gye In a stounde, and that full hastyly, As he were a wod lyon, But euer he kept himMS. hem. well sir Gyoun. Ameraunt tho at the laste Began for to febyll faste: For he had so fought all this daye, And his blod [was] nyȝe a-weye, His streng[t]h gan faste to slake, And his body gan for to ake. Gye a-perceyved hit full well, And besteryd hym faste, so haue I hele: That other arme he smote in two, That arme and shuldre fell hym froo. When that other arme was lore, 'Alas,' he seyd, 'that euer I was bore;' To Gye rode as an hounde, And bare sir Gye nere to the grounde With hys hed be-fore the herte, That sir Gye all a-bakward sterte. But Gye kept hym well with-all, And mad hym to the erth to fall. Hys aventayle tho from hym he revyd, And then he smote of hys he[v]ede. In hys hond he hit hent, And to kyng tryamoure sone he went. The kyng hit toke sone anone, And sent it to the proud sowdan. When the sowdan hit gan seen He for-yave the kyng all his tene; Therwith he yave hym noble thyng, Gold, siluer, and rich clothyng. 'Erle Ionas,' tho quod the Kynge, 'Good tydyng I will the brynge. Thow hast savyd my lyfe so dere Thorowgh this knyȝt, that stondith now here. By that god on whome I trowe, I will make the lord nowe Of all my land fere and nere: I make the lord and master here.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'Graunte mercy! God yow yeld and seynt marye.' Tho seyd the kyng to Gye so free, 'Sir,' he seyd, 'I prey the to dwell with me: Thou shalte haue of me ryght gret honoure, Meny a good Cite, castell, and towre. I will season into thyn hande Evyn halfen deale of my lande. I will not thow leve thi laye: Thow arte a trew knyȝt, be this daye.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'graunte mercye! I will hit not, sekerlye.' The Erle toke leve of the kyng, And forth they went, with-oute lesyng. With hym he toke sir Gye the wyght, And went to Ierusalem full ryght. The Erle hym be-thought vpon a daye He wold wit yf that he maye From whens he cam that noble knyȝte, 'And what his name ys he sey me aryght.' On the morne he com to sir Gye, And asked hym full prevelye, 'Sir knyȝt,' he seid, 'what is thi name? Tell me, so god shyld the from shame. Thow seydyst that thow hyȝtyst Iohn: Thow hast a nother name, be my crown. For that goddis love I byd the That sufferd deth vppon a Rood tre, And with his preciouse blode vs all dere bowȝt, Tell me thi name here, and lye me nought.' Then seyd Gye, 'thow shalt here, For thow me askyst in feyre manere. Loke thow discouer me neuer more, For gret shame and synne yt wore. Gye of Warewyke ys my name: Though I be pore thynketh me no shame. Now have I fought for the here, And sleyne the Geaunte stoute & fere.' When Ionas herd vtterlye That he was the noble knyȝt sir Gye, He fell on knees be-fore hym in hye: Gye hym toke vp full hastilye. 'A lord,' he seyd, 'Gye, mercye! Why go ye now thus porelye? Ne be ye man of mykell myȝt? Ther was neuer on erth a trewer knyȝt. Myn Erldom, sir, will I yow yeve Euer more whilest that I leve. My sonnes all fyftene with me We will yow serue as oure lord free.MS. dere. We shall yow swere by god on rode That we shall neuer chalenge therof good The mowntenaunce & valure of on penye, For ye have hyt won vtterlye: And ye ne had be, sertes, we had be dede. Now, gentill sir Gye, do be my rede.' Sir Gye answeryd full noblye, 'Sir, much thanke and graunte mercye! To well ye quyte me my servyse Yf that ye dyd in such a wise. To my land now will I fare: Haue good day for euer-mare.' They kyssed to-geder when they shuld goo: They wept whan gye departid, & made mykyll woo. Now wendyth sir Gye fro that place, And thanked allmyghty god of hys grace. Forth he went to grece full ryght, Of hys ded he was full lyght. When he had dwellyd a stonde thareMS. ther a stonde ther. To costantyne the noble can he fare. Speke we now ofRead in? this storye Of hys wyfe, that trew ladye. In all the world ys none here pere, So trew and so good in all manere. Sethen that sir Gye wente a-weye She blan nether nyght ne daye Power to fede, and chyrches to make, And abbeyes to helpe for crystis sake, Weyes to make, & bryggis that were broke,ll. 8662 and 8663 must change places, I think. And men that were in preson faste stoke. Nother for game, myrth, nor for glee Wold she lawȝe that men myȝt see. The lady had a chyld full fayer: Of all her lond he shuld haue bene eyre. They crystyned hym, with-oute blame, And clepyd hyt Reynbrown be name. The chyld was to herawd brought, As the lady had in her thought. Herrawd hyt kept with gret honoure In hys owen wyves bowere: With two knyȝtis he dyd it kepe, Whether hit woke other slepe.slept MS. When hyt was vii yere old Hyt was both fayre, gentill, & bold: In ten yere, sertes, he waxed mor Than eny of xii yere that were thore. Hyt be-fell so that rych merchauntis Commyn from fer be-yonde Fraunce: Both syluer and gold they had plente, Menyvere and grice grete deynte, Clothes of gold and riche preciouse stonys, Spicery rich and good for the nonys. At london they aryved than, And founden there kyng athelstone: A riche present they hym sente, And with her merchaundyse forth they wente Thorough-oute the lond in eche contre, And to walyngford, that towne so free. Then was that towne grete and stronge I-closed with walles fayre and longe: Wel faire nobley was than there, That sythen was dystroyed with were. The merchauntis were both curteys & hend, And to sir herrawd gun they wende, And yaue hym ryght a fayre presend, For he was lord of that londe. He toke hit with well good chere, And thanked hem on feyre manere. The marchauntis sye the chyld goand, And in the hall fayre playande: Of hym they hadden swyth gret ferlye, For he was so fayer & eke so semlye. They askyd hys maistersmaister MS. two or thre Whoes was the chyld, þat was feyre & free. Hys maisters told hem a-none ryght He was sir Gye ys sonn, the noble knyght. They preysed the fayernes of that chyld, And thought in her hertis myld, Yf they myȝt gett the chyld ouer the see, All riche men shuld they than bee. Tho they yave the porter yeftis grete, For he schuld hem the chyld gette, And so he dyd with-oute mare: To london faste gan they all fare. To schyppe they wente with grete traveyle: The wynd was good, they lyfte vp sayle. To RochellSo MS. instead of Russye; cf. ll. 8842 and 8873. they commyn full ryght: The lond thei knew well, & were glad & lyght. They went to have Ryven ther at her wyll, But in a while they sped full yll: The wedyr be-gan to ouer-caste, Hit thondred and lyȝtned faste. The weders smyten to-geder thene: A gret tempeste ther be-ganne. The see be-gan so harde to flowe, That they ne wiste whedir to rowe. The wawes resyn as hye as the maste: Tho was eueryiche of hem sore a-gaste. The gret cabull brast in two: Tho wende thei to deth have goo. They hadden sorrow, I vndyrstonde: They cryed to god all weldande. The wynde hem drofe in-to the see: They ne wyste in-to what contre. They sayled all a day and all a nyght: In Aufryke they aryved ryght. The merchaundys well founde That they were a-ryved in vn-couth lande: Forth they toke the chylde so yenge, And presentid hym to the kynge For to wende sikyrlye Thorough all the lond to sell and bye. A Ioyfull man was the kyng, And graunted them all theyre askyng. The kyng, for-sothe, had a doughter dere, A feyre mayden and mery of chere: She was as old and no more As Reynbrowne when he com thore. The mayd be-sowght her moder dere To byd her fader on all manere That she myght kepe the chyld there: The kyng her graunted with well good chere. When sir herrawd herd seye That the chyld was a-weye, He sowght hym thorrouw that Cyte And thorrough all that ylke contre. When herrawd had sought all that londe, And none of them that chyld founde, Herrawd sorrowed nyght and daye For hys lordys son, that was a-weye. Herrawd hym sought in all manere In many dyuerse contre Far and nere, But full carefull was hys rede, For he ne myght fynd hym in no stede. After that full sone in hye Kyng athelstone made a crye, That ther shuld com be-fore hym ryght Erle, baron, squyer, and knyght: All the wyse men of that londe Shuld be redy at hys honde. Sir herrawd gan thedyr fare. For the kyng hym loued mare Than any man in that contree, For he was both hend and Free, Therfor a-monge them had thei Envye, And seyd amongis them redylye That the kyng dyd on-ryght To honoure so pore a knyght That was no better thanMS. and a page: To hys barons he did outerage. 'Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'yeld yow to me: Ye beth my men, and owte to be. I byd yow yevyn me good counseyle That may all my londe aveyle. The kyng Awlaffe of Denmarke Will com on vs with oost starke: He hath caste, by this day, To wynne this land yf he maye. Many wynters beth passid on honde, Sith thei fyrste chalengid this lande.' 'Sir,' quod herrawd, 'dred you nought: Ye shall do well as I have thought. Yf he will com in-to your londe Ye shall fynd men hem to with-stonde. Ye haue meny a dowȝty knyght, And men that dare ryght well fyght. Yf they com thei shall a-bye: Makyth no doele, ne be not sorye. Of myn Eldren told me a knyȝte In-to this lond thei com full ryght, And sethen longe tyme a-goone Many of hem were here sloone: A grete bateyle there they tynte Right with streng[t]he of swerdus dynte; Therfor haue thei loste there ryght: Thei were dyscomfyt in that fyght. Commaundith now youre barouns, Lordys of castellis and townes, And youre knyghtis of Armes all, ThatThen MS. thei be redy when ye hem call, And that thei yow helpe in all manere What tyme ye of hem haue mystere, For to hold youre londhond MS. to ryght Yf the Danys will with yow fyght. Youre men shall be all redye, And fyght with hem full manfullye: Thorough grace of god all weldande We shall haue the hyer hande.' 'Sir,' quod the kyng, 'sanȝ fayle, This is a well good cownseyle. As thow haste seyd euery deale Hit shall be, so have I hele.' Vp ther sterte the Duke moderyse in Ire: Of Cornweyle he was lord and sire. 'Sir kyng,' he seyd, 'for your honoure, Levyth no more that losyngoure. Youre barons have full yll wyll Yow for to serue lowd or styll, When ye levyth more hym on Than your barouns euery-chone. Well better we can yow counceyle Both in werre and in bateyle Than the traytour that I se there: Hys lord he hath be-trayed are, That made hym knyght of gret honour From a pore vavyssoure. He hath quyt full yll his dede When he hath sold hys son for nede: To men of OysebOyseb MS. instead of Russye; cf. l. 8873 Oysell, l. 8720 Rochell. he hym sold, And for hym meny peny told. He shall do yow, be yehe MS. aweye, All the scath that he maye, And also your owen son be-gyle, And so wyll he quyte your while.' When herrawd herd that gret syre Vnneth he myght speke for tene & Ire. Vppon hys feete he sterte full yare As man that was full wo thare. 'Thow lyest,' quod herrawd, 'sothlye, When thow me clepyste of felonye. Thow doeste me velony and shame With-owte eny gylte or blame, When thouthou me MS. before my lord the kyng Seyest on me ony such thyng. Yf thou wylt hyt avowe That thow hast seyd on me nowe, Arme the full hastyly anone ryght, And prove thi false word with thi myght. Yf I may not defende me Lett me be hangyd on a galoo tree. Thow haste me slaunderd of such thyng Here be-fore my lord the kyng, That I shuld sell the child reynebrown, My lordys son sir Gyoun: As helpe me god, that me dere bought, As that thyng com neuer in my thought. Marchauntis, be god, verylye, Stale the chyld be nyght prevylye. Sethen I wente and other three To Oysell,So MS; cf. l. 8842. that fayre contree, But I found hym in no stede; Therfor sorrowfull ys my rede. Whether I be false other nought, I am here in slaunder brought: Be-fore the kyng now here ryght I shall here my trouth plyght: Out of this land wyll I fare, And com neuer ageyne mare, Or that I fynde my lordys sonn, Yf he be levyng vndyr the mone. Yf god will geve me grace To fynd hym in eny place, And com ageyne hole & fere, I shall the slee on all manere.' 'Be still,' quod the Duke so fell, 'The devyll the slee, that ys in hell. While that thow arte in this contre, Certes, traytoure shalt thou be.' And that herd a noble knyght, That sir herrawde wyste not whate he hyght. Be-fore the Duke he stood vp on hye, And seyd to hym with grete envye: 'Thow lyest, sir duke, be heven kyng, When thow on herraud seyest such thyng. Of felony and of treasoun Thow lyest, so broke [I] my croun. God helpe the neuer at thi nede But thou arme the on a stede, And alone with me thow fyght: Than shall we see who hath the ryght. The helpe of god be me berevyd But I smyte of thyn he[v]ede.' The kyng commaundyd on her lyfe That there shulde be no more stryfe. When the kyng had all seyd, And hys arrend on hemhym MS. leyd, That thei shuld kepe hys lande, And bene all redy at hys hande, Home thei went the knyȝtis fre, 'Euery man to hys contre. Home tho went herrawd the free: To Walyngford, certes, went hee. Herrawd had both sorrow and shame, For he was brought in much blame. He clepyd to hym sir Edgarde: 'What redyst thow, sir stewarde, Sith that it ys in this land seyd, And with wrong on me leyd, That I shuld sell reynbrown, My lordys son sir Gyoun? Yet had I, for-soth, lever hangid be Than such slaunder ryse on me. I wyll wend forth on my weye, And sech reynebrowne nyght and daye: I wyll leve for no mannus rede Tyll I hym fynde quyke or dede. Yf I dwell here at hame All men shall speke of me shame, And seye that hit were no lesyng That the Duke told the kyng. Edgare,' he seyd, 'dwell thow here, And kepe my lande with thy powere, And my chyld, and my wyfe, And my land with-owte stryfe. For-soth, a good man arte thow on: Trewer found I neuer none.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'for goddys love, mercy! Belevyth at home, and leve youre foly, And I yow swere by the trynyte I wyll wende to fer contre: I ne shall blynne day nor nyght Tyll I have founden that chyld rygh[t]. I was onys sevyn yere In the see A marynere: In crystendome ther ys no londe Tha[t] I ne have be there dwelland. Ye bene old and hore well yare, And ye have ssofferd sorrow and care: Hyt fallyth for yow to leve at hame, And send some other in youre name.' 'Edgare,' he seyd, 'speke no mare. I wyll not leve, but I wyll fare, For all the good in crystyante, But that I will seche reynbrown the free. Thow shalte here dwell, be mynee in myne altered from d. hand, And kepe my good and my lande; For well I wot, when I am gone, Myn Ennemyes wyll come anone, And be-sett the with bateyle: Defende the well, with-owte fayle.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'so god me amende, Yf they come we will vs defende.' NOw wendith herrawd from the cite, And toke leve of hys meyne. He hyed hym faste from that contre: A full carefull man was he. A shyp he found and passed yare, And sowght reynbrowne wyd whare: In Denmarke and in Irelonde, In northwey and in scotlonde, In allmayne and in russye, In Sisoyne and in tu[r]kye Euer his lordis son he sought, But, for-soth, he found hym nouȝt. When he myght not founden be In all this ylke straunge contre, To constantyne the noble than wold he. Tho come there a tempeste in the se, And hem chasyd full blyve: At Awferyke they gun aryve. He saw be-sydys hym on the lond A ryght fayer Cite stonde, But, for-soth, the wallis of that town To the erth were brokyn down. 'Lord,' quod than a marynere, 'Moche sorrow we shall get here. We be now faste a-ryvand Into the kyng Argus land. He ys a ryght rich kyng Of gold, syluer, and other thyng.' Quod herrawd, 'who oweth this contre, That ys thus dystroyed, and this Cite?' Then be-spake hym a shipman, 'Sir, I shall tell yow all that I can. Hit is amerallys persane: There is no man so fell toMS. in. flamiordan. He hateth crysten men ychone: Well I wote we shall be slone. Kyng argus hath be-segyd hym here, And dystroyed his land ferre and nere.' With that there cam sarsynnys kene, And toke hem all, for-soth, be-dene, Herrawd and hys company, And browt hem to her lord in hye: He caste hem in his preson all; Mete and drynke they had full small. Tho the Duke Moderyse had vndyrstond That the knyȝt sir herrawd was owt of lond, He gaderyd hys hooste of cornwayle: The steward faste he can assayle; But he hym defendyd day and nyȝt Full well as a noble knyȝt. He waged men of that londe: Full rychely he hem fande, And yave hem gold and rich tresoure, And kept that lond with gret honoure. All that yere owt and owte He defendyd hym well with-owte dowte. He yave the Duke bateyle stronge, And euer he slow hys men a-monge. A thowsand men he slow anone Of the Dukis men echone. The Duke myght sped for no thyng Of hys long besegyng: To corneweyle he wente ageyne, And lefte hys men with shame slayne. Speke we now of sir Gyoun, The noble knyȝt, the bold baroun. At all seyntis hath he bene That beth in grece or constantyne. He thought in hys herte thare That to ynglond wold he fare. Fro thens hys wey hath he take, And walkyd thorough fryth and lake: With grete traveyle and grete payne Comyn he is to Allmayne. As he com on a daye Ther as a brod wey leye, A feyre crose he saw stondyng, And ther-vndyr a pore pilgrym syttyng. He mad sorrow in all thyng, And euer he seyd with gret mornyng, 'Alas, my sorrow that ys so stronge, And my lyfe that lastyth longe!' When Gye hym saw he had pyte, And seyd to hym with herte free, 'I requere the here nowe, So god the shyld fro sorrow, That thow me sey with good herte Fro whens thow come, & what thow arte.' And he answeryd, 'leve fere, Yf that I tell the here, I wote well thow woldyst have gret pyte, And I neuer the better be.' Gye answeryd, 'leve sir, naye: Thou myȝt be amendid in som weye. Par aventure I may tell the in faye How thy sorrow shall a-weye; For hyt fallyth well to straunge men Eyther other wysdom to ken.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'the soth I sey the, Hyt were gret Almes to tech me. Trewly, sir, I shall yow tell All my sorrow, how that hyt be-fell. I was a knyȝt of Riche londe, And had castellis & toures in my hande. Of Good me[n] I had plentee: All the land full sore dred me. In crystendome was ther no land That I [ne] was in preysed for dred of hond; For I was both bold and hende, And had many a good freende. Gold and siluer I had plente For me and my meyne: Now have I nought on penye Where-with I may my mete bye. Now am I a pore caytyfe: Hit ys no wonder though I hate my lyfe.' For sorrow myght he speke no more: With hys eyen he wept sore. 'Pylgrym,' quod Gye, 'what is thi name? Whedir wylt thow, & fro wens thow came?' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'lett be thy fare: For goddis love, aske me no mare What I hyght, ne what I am: Certes, to tell the me thynkyth shame. Yf I shuld all my lyfe tell All to long shuld I dwell. Whi askyst me such thynge, When thow myȝt do me no mendyng? I had lever som-what to get Where-with I myȝt bye me mete.' Gye answeryd, 'now tell thow me: For hys love that dyed on tree, Tell me thy name, spare thow nouȝt, And who hath the in such sorrow brought, For god, in whome ys thi creaunce, And as he the sent allegeaunce. Oure mete than will we bye; For I have yet a peny or twaye.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'I will yow seye: I wyll not lye, be thys daye. My name was som-tyme Erle terry: A full riche man was I, And now I am a wrecchyd caytyf; Me for-thynkyth I have my lyfe. In Gornoyse was I bore, And all that lond was to me swore. I had a fellow that hyght gyoun: Sithen that god suffred bitter passioun, Was neuer trewer knyght borne, No better man that rose on morne. We were fellowes and trouth-plyȝte: We lovyd well to-geder day and nyght. So lovyd he me, thorough hys redeLine 9118 is the last but one in p. 205, but has a reference to its right place. That twyes he savyd me fro the dede. Hit be-fell so, that ilke Gye Slow the Duke of Pavye: He hym slow, trewlye, For he had hym don velonye. Amonge hys men euery-chone He hym slow, and hys way was gone. He brought from hym myhis MS. leman dere, For whom I goo in this manere. Thys ylke duke had a cosyn, Hys syster son, a well bold hyn. Berrard of pavy ys hys name; God geve hym som worldly shame. He was tho but a esquyer: He had seruyd the Empere[r]. The Emperoure lovyd hym well, And yave hym pavy euery deale. That ilkeMS. ilke jlke. berrard tho be-gan For to be a stowte man, And so prowd, and so fell, That no man myȝt with hym dwell. In this world ys none hys pere, Ne non so stronge, ne non so fere; For he ys more dred alone Than a hundryth knyȝtis ychone. YfMS. But. a man were armyd well Both in Iren and in stele, And he hym hyt in the fylde, But he hyt kept in the shylde, Clenly with hys swerdys dynte Fro the hede, or hyt wold stynte, Hit shuld wade to the Gyrdyll Evyn, And slee hym, by god of hevyn. Thow herdyst neuer speke of knyȝt In thys world that ys so wyȝte. There ys none so stronge borne in this lond, And he hym hyt with hys hond, But he wyll breke hys nek in two At on stroke with-owte moo. Berrard ys so fell a page, And so stowte of hys parage, There ys no knyȝt in all thys lond That ys so bold and wyȝt of hond, Yf they were wroth, the knyȝtis stowte, And hys yen ran abowte, But that he shuld for dred quake, And fle a-wey for hys sake. For he ys so wyght of honde, He ys drad ouer all the londe. Hys steward hym made the emperoure, And yave hym ryght gret honoure; For he ys more dred alone Than hys barounys euery-chone. Yf thow were Duke or erle in lond, But yf thow were to hym bowand, The steward wold sone aryse And dystroy the in all wyse, Other he wold the take sone, And to stronge preson I-done. Yet men dredyth hym well more. Yf a pore man the[r] wore, And he hym lovyd with herte free, He myȝt be man of gret poweste. Were he Duke, Erle, or knyȝt, Were he neuer so richepower MS. a wyȝt, Yf hym had wrothyd prince or kyng, Were he neuer so hye a lordynge, He wold hym bryng to the grownde, And make hym power in a stounde. Hyt be-fell that the emperoure Had a councell in this manere Of dukis, Erlys, and barouns: They com to hym, he made somons. Thedyr I com with gret maine: An C knyȝtis cam with me. When I cam be-fore the Emperoure, Berrard acouped me thore, And seyd Duke Otown thorough my rede, Hys cosyn, was done theRead to? dede. When I hym herd of treason speke, Me thought myn herte wold to-breke. Forth I sterte hardyly, For to defend me of that felonye. I yave my glove be-fore the kyng, With hym to fyght, with-owt lesyng, And a-yen all other men That couth owte seye ageynste me then. The emperoure hit toke full ryght, But I ne wyste when I shuld fyght. In all the courte ne founde I man That durste be my borrow than For dred of the Duke berrarde. Tho hit fell with me so harde: He put me tho at hys wyll In hys depe preson still. He seasod all my land sone, And so he wold my wyfe have done, But she ys hyd in stronge stede, But I not where, so god me spede. When I was in preson thare, Nyght and day I was in care. Thorough me hethey MS. wende to wynne Sir Gye with som false Gynne. Were he a-vengid of sir Gyoune Thorowgh falsed and treasoune, Also sone shuld I be dede: For me shuld go no gold so rede. In hys preson was I longe, And suffred paynes ryght stronge. There-in was neuer more lyght Than if were derke myd-nyght. Ete I neuer ther my fill, Spake I neuer ther with man my fyll. My frendys com at the laste, And prayed the Emperoure for me faste, And yave him meny yeftis thoo, And they dyd berrard also, That I myght wend oute of preson Vndyr such a condicion, That I shuld wend and feche Gyoun Thorough euery lond and euery towne. I shall neuer blyn day ne nyȝte Tyll I fynd Gye, the noble knyght, And bryng hym be-fore the Emperoure, For to defend hym of that treytoure, And of that grete owtrage Before all hys baronage, And for to defende hym and me For thyng that we apechyd be. Tho went I forth with care and tene: In many a lande sethen have I bene. Fer have I sowght Gye, my trew fere, In Englond fer and nere. When I come there, I founde hym nought: On sir herrawd was all my thought. Both were they fer owte of londe: That tydyng doth me both shame & shonde.shende MS. Herrawd sowghtsowght I MS. nyght and daye Hys lordys son, that was stole a-weye. Sir Gye was in excile wente: Therfor I hold me but shente. Was neuer man, there as I couth Goo, That couth owte tell of hem twoo. Sethen I have sowght Gye the free In many a lande and many a contree, Found I neuer man by the weye That ought of Gye couth me seye. Full well I wote that he ys dede: Therfor full sorow-full ys my reede.' With that he syghed swyth sare As man that was in mykyll care. When Gye saw terry so dyght, That was som-tyme a noble knyght, He lokyd on hym vtterlye; For he hym lovyd trewlye. He saw him pore for the nonys: He had not to hill with hys bonys. Hys leggis were bare and yll be-sene, That were wonde to were scarlet & grene. For sorrow sir Gye fell to grounde, And laye in a sownde a grete stounde. When Terry sye hym so lye, He toke hym vp full hastilye. Quod terry, 'sir, beth of Good herte. This Evyll begynneth yow to smerte. Tell me, yf hit be youre will, How longe ye have fared thus yll.' Quod Gye, 'hit ys not longe agone, Seth this Evyll com me one.' 'For-soth,' quod terry thanne, 'Hit ys grevaunce to ech mane. This day twelmoneth,' quod terry, 'hit was To seche Gye that I can passe. Sethen I restyd neuer on daye There I on the nyght laye, That I have bene euer travellande, What by see, and what by londe. As I me walkyd in my weye Here with-yne this thyrd daye Hit was me told, with-oute fayle, At spire ther shuld be a gret counceyle Be-fore the Emperoure Reynere: All his lordis shuld be thare. Ther ys no lord in that contree But he shall at that counceyle be. Ryght thanne ys my termetenne MS. daye To come a-geyne, yf that I maye, And bryng Gye in my honde, Yf that he be in world levande; And, yf I myght not fynd hym no-where, I shuld in thishis MS. land com neuerenouere MS.; And, yf I com, I shuld be dede: Ther-for can I no kynnes rede, Whether I wend to take my payne, Or I now turne ageyne.' Gye hym herd thus sorrowand: For sorrow he myght not stonde. 'Lord,' he seyd, 'of myghtis stronge, Whi leve I now thus longe, That I se this noble knyght At this tyme this rewly dyght? Trewer fellaw thanand MS. he was won In the wo[r]ld found I none. Hangid be I this ilke daye But I a-venge hym, yf that I maye. Myght I speke with the Duke at my will, That of his dedys ys so yll, But I revydRead reve? hym hys lyfe Other with spere or with knyfe, And avenge terry, my good fellow, God lett me neuer heven knowe.' Then spake sir Gye to terry, 'Leve sir, be not sorye: Hyt wyll the helpe no-thyng To make sorrow or mornynge. Go we now the corte nerehande, Som tydyng to vndirstonde, That we now the better be.' Quod terry, 'leve sir, Go we.' They toke ther wey towarde the cite: Terry a carefull man was he; Gye ys herte was sore also, As they gan to-geder goo: He myght hym hold no-thyng, When he saw terry, from wepyng. He coverd his face with hys slaveyne, For terry shuld not se hys payne. When they had go myles three Towardys that good Cite, 'Lord,' quod terry, 'what shall I do? Such hevynes ys com me to, But I slepe here a while, I dye, or I have gone a myle.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'lye down here still A good while, and slepe thi fill; And I shall for the love of the At thyne heed here restyn me.' 'Sir,' quod terry, 'Graunte mercye, That yt ys your grete curtesye!' Tho lay terry down to grounde, And slepid in Gyes armes a stounde: Full faste tho gan he slepe, And as faste for hym Gye gan wepe. As terry lay there in slepyng, Oute of his mouth wente a thyng As hit were a white Ermyne: Sir Gye be-held it, be seynt martyn. To an hyllehole MS. it wente than: Hit founde an hole, and in hit ran. Hit dwellyd not longe, as I yow saye: Hyt come ageyne the same daye. In at hys mouth gan hit goo, There hit cam be-fore-hand froo. When Gye this wonder all had sene, He had wondre what it myght bene. Terry a-waked a-non thore: Vp he arose, and syghed sore. 'Lord,' he seyd, 'hevyn kyng, That I have met much wonder thyng! Me thought I was to an hyll goon: I founde a roche all of stone. Full hit was of gold rede; Thervpon there lay a dragon dede, And a swerd by hym laye: Ys none better of stele this daye. Also me thouȝt that sir Gye, My dere fellow, was me bye: Myn hede in hys lap laye; Tho was my sorrow all a-weye.' Then seyd Gye, 'my dere frende, Thorough grace of god, that is so hende, Yet shalt thow wyn thorow Gyoun All thi land, castell, and towne. Aryse vp,' quod Gye, 'with-owt lettyng: With the grace of god hevyn kyng Well shall we fare this ylke daye.' Toward spire they tokyn the waye. 'Pylgryme,' quod Gye, 'I red we abyde, And [wende] to thys hyll here-be-syde, There thow thought this treasoure laye. Thorough grace yf we fynd hit maye, Hit may vs helpe in all manere; Therof we have gret mystere.' 'I Graunte,' quod terry, 'be this daye. Go we thedir with-owte delaye.' To the hyll they com in hye, And founden all such redylye As terry dremyd: there they founde The treasoure and the good bronde. The swerd was bryght and styf I-nowȝe: Owt of the scuberd Gye it drowgh. 'God of hevyn,' quod Gye than, 'Where this euer longyd to crysten man? Never be-fore saw I such a brande. Hit was made in fer londe.' The pomell was corven euery deale With brynned gold nobly well. Of that swerd Gye was full fayne, And put hyt into the sheth a-geyne. Then he seyd to sir terrye, 'This treasoure that thow syeste here lye, Take thow all to thy poweste, But this swerd shall dwell with me.' 'Sir,' quod terry, 'at your wyll. Of treasure have I sone my fyll. There is so gret sorrow in my thought, That of treasoure rech I nowȝt. To the Cite will we gange: Me thynketh we dwell here to long.' 'Par fay, gladly,' quod sir Gye: Both they went forth in hye. Terry was a-gaste knowen to be Of som man that shuld hym see. When they comyn to that Cyte Sory man and wery was he. They herborowed them at the townes ende: After mete and drynke gan they send. Sir Gye rose vp, full hardelye, And lefte hys swerd with sir terrye, And hyed hym faste to the towre, To speke with the emperoure. The Emperoure from chyrch come, Gye hym mete or he com home. Gye hym gret well curteslye As he cowd, well securlye. 'God save yow, my lord, sir Emperoure,' Quod Gye, 'and yeve yow much honoure. A pylgrym I am of ferr contree: I aske some good for charite. Of your helpe have I mystere As ye mow se in all manere.' Quod the emperour, 'full gladlye I wyll the help, be seynt marye. To my paleys thow com with me: Thow shalte have mete gret plente.' Tho they commyn to the hall The emperour and hys men all, The which a-non to mete yode, And euer sir Gye before hym stode. 'Pylgrym,' quod the Emperoure, 'Tell me, I pray the par amoure, Where were thou born & in what contre? Thow semyst well travellyd to be.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'ye may vndyrstond That I haue be in meny a londe, In ierusalem and in surrey, In constantyne the noble, for-soth, was I.' 'Pylgrym,' he seyd, 'be thy lewte, What seyth men ther of me?' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'ye shall here: Both shame & also harme in all manere, When ye thorough false counceyle Of the steward, that may not avayle, Hath banesshyd terry, the noble knyȝt, And meny an other with-owt ryght; Therfor ye havyth, sir, a shame, And in this land much blame. Ye do your-selfe gret dyshonoure To leve so well that losyngoure.' When duke berrard herd what Gye seyd, He be-gan vp to brayde. He faryd as a wod man, And he wold have smytten Gye than, But men hym held that stodyn bye, That he dyd no harme to Gye. He seyd, 'thow lyest, false treytour: I was neuer losyngoure. Yf hyt ne were for dyshonoure Of my lord the Emperoure, I shuld shake thy berd so sore, Thy teth shuld fall owte the be-fore. Thow art a trowant swyth stronge: Thys lyf hast thow led full longe. Yf I the fynd with-owt the towne, I shall the caste in my presone. This VII yere ne gettyst thow a-weye, Ne shall wyt whether hit be nyȝt or daye. So shall men tech glotouns For to myssey gentill barouns.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'yt ys yee? Ȝe owght a gentil man to be. I saw yow neuer are,' quod sir Gye; 'Ye semeth a bold man and a hardye. To do a pore man velonye Hyt were shame to yow, sekerlye. Hyt shuld yow torne to gret owtrage: Sir, ye beth so hye of lynage. I seyd none other thyng Here vnto my lord the kyng, But with synne and vnryght Ye have dystroyed terry the knyȝt, And chasyd hym owte of this land, For that ye beryth hym wrong on hand, That your cosyn shuld be dede Thorough hym and thorough hys rede: Ofte I have herd trewlye 1[That he was nothynge geltye.' Then spake þe dewke wyth yre, 'Be god, that made water and fyre,]11_1 These three lines, wanting in the Caius MS., are taken from the MS. in the University Library, Cambridge, ll. 9234-6. That thow were that ilke knyȝt That durst for sir terry fyght!' Gye answeryd with-owte more (He saw the Duke agrevyd sore), He seyd, 'yf my lord the emperoure wyll FyndynFyndyth MS. me that longith tyll, Lo me here, sir, all redye To take the bateyle for sir terrye. He slew neuer the Duke Otoun, The false Duke, that wyked glotoune.' Quod Gye to the emperoure, 'Have here my wed, for your honoure: With hym, for-soth, wyll I fyght, And help sir terry in hys ryght.' The Emperoure with mornyng chere Toke the wed of Gye there. He seyd, 'pylgrym, so god the save, All that the nedyth thow shalt have.' With that he began to sygh sore, So dyd all that there wore. Vp stert berrard, the gret syre, As man that was full of tene and Ire. 'Pylgryme,' he seyd, 'thow arte full stowte, Prowd, and bold, with-owte dowte, When thow haste wagid thys bateyle; For I the sey, with-owt fayle, The devyll the bad do this dede. Thow haste hym seruyd: thys ys thi mede. The grace of god be me berevyd But I smyte of thy he[v]ed.' 'Sir Emperoure,' quod Gyoun, 'Herkyn here to my reasoun: Here ys no man that knoweth me; Com I am from fer contree. Armoure have I none redye Ne gold where-with to bye. As ye beth man of much myght, To helpe the pore thorough ryght, And at ned to do hym socoure Hit ys to yow gret honoure.' To-fore the Emperoure they stod ychone, Both her weddus he toke anone. Sethen he commaundyd hem anone ryȝt Erly on the morrow to be dyght. He wyll algate the bateyle see:see] be do MS. He bad erlych it shuld be.be so MS. The Duke yod home full swyth Full of wrath and vnblyth. The emperoure clepyd hys dowȝter dere, And bad her in all manere She shuld kepe the pylgrym well, And arme hym both in Iren and stele. She dyd as her fader her bad, And into chamber she hym lad. She wold hym cloth & bathe wele, But therof wold he neuer a dele. He bad her for god all-myȝt To arme hym well at all ryght. All the men of that Cyte Had wonder what yt myȝt be That durst ayenst the duke fyȝte: They prayed for hym both day and nyȝt, That god shuld geve the pylgrym grace To slee the Duke in the place. Full Erly rose the Emperoure, And herd masse with grete honoure. To hys paleyse ys he gone With hys barounus euery-chone. All redy was the Duke berrard As stowte as a lyon other lyberd, Armyd vpon a stede: To the court men Gon hym lede. I wote the mayd for-yate nought, To arme the pylgrym was all her thought: She dyd [hym] have a well good stede, That seker was at euery nede. Hys good swerd for-yate he nought: Hyt was full prevyly to hym brought; He dyd hyt fett from sir terry, That no man saw, full prevylye. Therof he had gret mystere, As ye shall afterward here. Well she armyd hym that may In all maner that he couth say. She brought hym to the emperoure, That was a man of gret honoure. All the men thatThe second t added in another ink. sye sir Gye Of hym they had gret ferlye; For he was so feyre and wyght, When he was armyd at hys ryght. All they sware be seynt Richere That was not the pore palmere That toke the bateyle for to fyȝte: He semyd well a dowȝty knyght.' 'Lordyngis,' quod the Emperoure, 'Herkenyth to me par amoure. These two knyȝtis, that stondyth here, They beth men of grete powere: A bateyle they have wagid here, Well ye wote in whate manere. Thys pylgrym, that stondyth me bye, Shall defende the Erle terrye Of felony and of treasoun, And of the dukis deth Otown Ayenst this Duke sir berrard, That hath hym apechyd full harde Of Otown hys cosyn ys deth, That he was slayne thorow terry ys reth. Now shall ye see this bateyle Hastyly with-owten fayle.' All they seyd at on assent, 'We wyll hyt se with good entent.' Oppon an hyll be-syd the Cite Ther was the bateyle ordeyned to be. The boke was brought hem be-forne: When they had her othes sworne, To the hyll gan they gone, And to-gedyr smote anone. Ther be-gan a gret bateyle: Eyther gan other fast assayle. Tho smote they to-gedyr faste, Whiles ther wepon wold laste. There be-gan a stronge fyght: They smot on helmys, that were bryght. They brekyn steroppis and paytrellis, And theyre sperys euery-deale, But her hawberkis wold not ryve. Down of theyre stedis gan they dryve. Now be they on the erth both: Full sone I wene they will be wroth. On her stedys they lepyn, sans dowt; Non dred other: they were so stowt. They drew swerdys stowt and stronge, And fought to-gedyr swyth long. The dyntis on helmys were so stoute, That all the hyll dynned a-bowt. They breke hawberkis and shyldys: The pecis flow into the fyldys. Sir Gye was armyd well thore, But the Duke had armour more: He had two helmys styf and bryȝt, And two hawberkis for dred of fyȝt. They were set with preciouse stonys All a-bowte for the nonys. Well grete and stronge was that bateyle: Her horse were stronge, with-owt fayle. They seyd a-mong hem eche man That seyen the bateyle than That Gye was erthly man none: Of hevyn he was an angell one, Other ellys a man of fer londe: He myȝt not ellys the Duke with-stond. Whether of hem were the hardyer Wyst they not that ther were. All the Cite, with-owt fayle, Comyn to se that bateyle: Men and women, chyldren also, Monkis and frerys thedyr gan go; Lasse and more in that Citee All they comyn that bateyle to see, But all only syr terry, That laye in the church speciallye, Preying to god that he wold here And helpe hym in hys gret mystere. In there com a preste goande, That found terry ther liggand. 'Pylgrym,' quod the prest than, 'Thow arte an ouer-holy man. Whi wylt not thow to the mounteyn go To se the bateyle be-twene knytis two? A pylgrym ys that on full ryght, That for the Erle terry doth fyght.' 'What ys that pylgrym?' quod terry. 'Ine wot,' he seyd, 'securlye, But he ys dowȝty in the fyld, And brokyn he hath the Dukis shyld.' Vp a-rose Terry tho anone, And to the bateyle ys he goon. He was adrad men shuld hym knowe: He lokyd amonge the men full lowe. There he saw the Duke berrarde, Hys armoure rent, and bled full harde. He had Ioy with-owt care That he saw Berrart so fare. Euer the pylgryme assayled hym faste. 'Lord,' quod terry at the laste, 'That ys not the same palmere That was yesterday my fere. Thys ys a bold man and a wyght: Hyt semyth hym to be a gentyll knyȝt. He was lene and febull of myght, An hongry man and euyll I-dyght; This man ys wyght and no-thyng wan: I wene hit ys none erthly man. When I hym se I thynke on Gye: He ys full lyke hym, securlye. Yf Gye were not ded, I wold seye That this were he, be thys daye.' Tho for Gye he wept full sore. He yod to church, and held hym thore. Euer he prayed to god that daye To helpe as he well maye. That bateyle last full longe, Fro the morrow erly vnto the euynsonge: Yet ne wold they leve the fyght Tyll hyt were the derknyght. They ne wiste what they myȝt seye; For they lakkyd the lyght of the daye. Messyngerys ther were sente, To the Emperoure sone they wente. They told hym that yt was nyȝte, They myȝt no lenge se to fyght. Anon he dyd klepe with honoure Fowre barouns of gret valoure. 'Lordys,' quod the Emperoure, 'Here hath bene an herd stoure. Take ye berrard to yow nowe, And kepyth hym well, I commaund yow, As I in yow trewly affye: Yeld hym to me to-morrow erly; And I shall kepe the pylgryme well Tyll to-morrow, so have I hele: Then shall they to-gedyr goo, Then shall we wete which of hem two Shall have the victorye Thorow the grace of god in hye.' 'Sir,' they seyd, 'all redye.' They were departyd sone in hye. They toke berrard, that noble knyȝt, And kept himhem MS. well all that nyȝt, But berrard, that false glotoun, Thought all-wey to do treasoun: Foure bold cosyns he had, And full prevyly he hem bad That they shuld to courte goo, And prevyly the pylgrym sloo. They armyd hemhym MS. in haste anone, And com to courte euery-chone. They entryd full prevyly Into a chambre to sir Gye. He was leyd in softe bed: With clothes of gold hyt was be-spred. Hys kepers were all slepand, Was not one of hem wakand. Vp they toke the bed ryght there, And to the full see they hyt bere; And all-wey slept well faste sir Gye: But god hym helpe for hys mercye, Well sone drowned shuld he be! They cast all forth in-to the see. There was he passed with the se wawe Down a whyle and vp a thrawe. Sir Gye awakyd at the laste, And hys hede up he caste: He sawe the sterrys bryght shynand, But in no syd saw he the lande, But brod watre all abowte: Hyt was no wondre though he had doute. 'God,' he seyd, 'all weldande, That stablyssheth both watre and londe, Lord, now thow thynke on mee; For I am be-trayed now, I see. Lord, who hath do me thys ded? And I fyght for no mede, Ne for syluer ne for golde, But for my brother, my trowth to hold, And for to delyuer hym owte of peryle, That longe hath bene in excile Also power as he may bee. When I hym saw I had pyte: Some-tyme he was a noble knyȝt. I wold dye for sir terry is ryght. For he ys now so wrechyd a wyght, A-geyne Berrarde I toke the fyght. Yf I had the traytour slayne, Terry shuld have hys land ageyne. Lord, yf hyt myȝt so be That he had helpe thorouȝ me, And I wonne all hys land, And all the honoure to hys hand, Thowȝ I levyd but till that daye, Hit were my Ioy, for-soth I seye. But I am ded, well I wote: For me shall he neuer have state Thorought treason of the Duke barrard. Have he neuer of hevyn parte! He ys a thefe full of treason; God geve hym hys malyson!' Tho ther com a good fysshere Fyshyng be sir Gye nere. The bed he saw far by fletand: He turned hys bot, and went nere-hand. Wondir he had what hyt were That in the see com fletyng there. He coniured hyt in all manere, When that he was comyn hyt nere: What he was he shuld saye, And yf he levyd on goddys laye. Vp he lyfte hys heed sir Gye, And to the fyssher he spake in hye: 'My frend,' quod Gye, 'have thow no dred; I leve in god, so god me spede.' Quod the fysher, 'art thow of this cite?' 'Yea, so god me sped,' seyd he. 'Thynkest thow not on that fyght Be-twene the pylgryme and the knyȝt That the Emperoure dyd make Yesterday for terry ys sake?' 'For-soth,' quod he, 'I saw full ryȝt The bateyle tyll the derke nyȝt. The emperoure dyd departe hem late: He kept the pylgryme at the gate.' 'And I am,' seyd Gye, 'that ylke pilgryme That faught ageynst Duke berrardyne. We were departyd yesternyȝt, For we myȝt se no lenger for to fyȝt. In-to a chambre I was brought: Of treason had I lytill thought. Into this bed was I done: I was wery, and slept full sone. I was be-trayed, I note howe: My dere frend, helpe me nowe. For the trouth god yave the, Att thys tyme have rewth on me.' The Fysher was for hym sory, And toke hym into hys bote in hye, And led hym forth home that nyȝt, And kept hym with all hys myȝte. The Emperoure a-rose well erlye, Mateyns and masse he herd in hye. Then he come in-to hys hall, And with hym hys barouns all. He bad hem bryng forth berrardyne, And afterward the pore pylgryme. The foure barouns, soth, gan wend, And brought the Duke so hende. He commaundyd at that tyme To bring forth that pylgryme. To the Emperoure gan they seye That the pylgryme was aweye: Both was awey he and hys bed, And hys wardeyns were all fled. Ther wiste no man where he was done. The Emperoure was wroth full sone: He sware be god and seynt marye All they shuld be hangyd on hye That had aloynedalyoned or alyoued MS. thys pylgryme And hys wardens, be seynt martyne. Tho spake he with full gret Ire To the Duke, the stoute syre: 'Thow Duke,' he seyd, 'with-owt stryfe, Bryng hym forth, vppon thi lyfe, That thow hast take oute of my kepyng, Other I shall Iuge the to hangyng. Ded or quyke bryng hym to me: Thow haste hym stolyn, well I se.' The Duke stert vp, with-owte doute, As man that was bold and stowte. 'Sir,' he seyd, 'now fynd I wele That ye love me neuer a deale. Ouer-longe have I servyd yow, And kept youre land to youre prow. Now ye wold Iuggyn me, But ye shall not, so must I the. Who that ys now here so hardye That wyll me greve or more anoye, I shall hym with my sword so smyte, That hys hede shall of as tyte. And yethey MS. that have me Iugid soo, I wyll ye wot, or I goo, That I shall wend into lumbardye, And gader power ryght hardye, And thorough thy land com ageyne: All that I fynd shall be slayne. I shall the dystroy euery deale.' He knew hys maner swyth well. I dare sey he was ryght wroth, And well faste he sware hys othe, Yf he wente he shuld be slayne; And he sware 'nay' full faste ageyne. Tho com forth the fysshere: He seyd, 'sir Emperoure, wyll ye here? Heryth me, yf youre wyll be, Sir,' he seyd, 'for charyte. Of that pylgryme I can yow seye: I wote where he ys, by thys daye.' 'My frend,' quod the Emperoure, 'Sey me, so god yeve the honoure, And thow shalt have, be myn hede, An hundryth besauntis of gold rede.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'full trewly I shall yow sey now in hye. To-nyȝt well late was I gone Vnto the see to fysch a-lone. I found a-lofte a bed fletyng, And a knyȝt therin lyggyng. I askyd hym what he was, And he me told all the case, How he was that pylgryme That fought with sir barrardyne. I leyd hym my bote with-ynne, And lad hym home to myn Inne. I hym kept all thys nyȝt: Sendyth for hym a-non ryght.' 'My frend,' quod the Emperoure, 'For hym shall thou [haue] much honoure.' For the pylgryme tho he sent: He come to hys commaundment Hastyly, with-owten fayle, And was arayed to that bateyle. Now be-gyn they to-gedyr to fyght: They daltyn strokis anone ryght. With swerdys, that were so good of stele, They smote on helmys ryght well. Hit was wondre to se thoo The fyght that was be-twene hem two. They fought tyll vnderne of the day: All had wonder that hyt saye. The Duke was full of felonye: He smote to Gye with grete envye; He hyt hym on the helme full stoute, And fellyd the floures all abowȝte. He brake the sercle evyn in two, He brake the good hawberke also. He replid hys face and his chyn, And of hys ryght cheke all the skyn. Adowne be hys shuldre the stroke gan glyd, And brake many a mayle be-syde, But in hys Flessh com hit nought: The grace of god was in hys thought. Out of the shyld he brake a quartere, As he woldThe l of wold added above the line. draw hys swerd nere. There fell to ground sir GyeGyes MS. skete Both an handys and on fete. Vp he sterte with-owte blame: Of that dede hym thought shame. He sterte forth as spekyll on fyre, And smote the Duke with gret Ire Vppon the helme, that was so clere (He smote a-wey a good quartere); As on that other helme with-all, That to the ground can he fall, And the here with all the face Fell ryght downe vnto the place. With hys swerd he smote tho Hys good hawberke evyn in two. The Ryght Arme and the shuldre also He smote there the body fro. He carfe hys bowellys and hys hyd: In-to the erth the swerd can glyde. Tho was he all at the grownd, He dyed in a lytill stounde. All the men that therby stode Spekyn that stroke much goode, And seyd there was no man levand That myȝt yeve a gretter stroke with hand. Vppon the Erth Gye sett hym downe, And seyd, 'a, thow Duke fellown, Now nere-hand a[r]t thow for-lorne. Alas the tyme that thow were boren! A bolder knyȝt was neuer lyvand, Ne neuer dowȝtyer man of hand. Ne haddist thow be traytour, be seynt Richere, In all the world ne had bene thy pere.' By the corse he reste a whyle, Well the mountanaunce of a myle. All that abowte gan stond Seyd he was a knyȝt of fe[i]r[y]-land. Now ys Gye to the Emperoure gon And to hys barouns euery-chone, And askyd yf terry shuld be quyte Of all perell and all dyspyte. All they seyd with on voyse, 'Yea, be hym that dyed on crose. All shall be for-yeve hym here Be leve of yow, sir Emperere.' 'Sir Emperoure,' quod sir Gye, 'Have mercy on the Erle terrye. I have defendyd that felony Ryght here be-fore your eye. Me thynkyth he shuld be quyte with ryght, When that I for hym dyd fyȝte.' The Emperoure answeryd full tyte, 'He oweth well for to be quyte. All I forgeSo MS. = for|geve. the Erle terry Myn evyll wyll and myn envye. I shall delyuer hym all hys land With all the honoure into hys hand: Yf I wyste where he were, I wold delyuer hym full yare.' Gye hym answeryd, 'par mafaye, Ye shall hym see, yf that I maye.' 'My frend,' he seyd, 'full hastylye I byd the wend, and seke terry.' Of he dyd hys armoure bryght: The Emperoure wold hym fayer dyȝt In Rich Robys two or thre, And make hym on of hys meyne, But therof wold be not thoo, But hys slaveyne and no mo. He went the Cite all abowte, And sowght terry with-owt dowȝt. At the laste he hym fande At the church hys bedys byddand. 'A-ryse vp,' quod Gye, 'for cherite: The Emperoure hath sent after the.' Vp he held hys hede terry: 'Lord god,' he seyd, 'mercy! In whome may any man trowe, Other to tell hys cowncell now? Thow semyst well trew to bee, And now haste thow be-wrayed me. He wyll me slee, or I ete mete: For me shalt thow have yeftis grete. Thow shalt me be-tray, & do me shame: Alas that I the told my name! I wend thow haddyst bene good & trew. So well-a-way that I the knewe! I wyll go and wend with the: I may not fle, full well I se. Yf I dye hyt ys thorow the: God now have mercy on me!' 'TErry,' quod Gye, 'make good chere: Thow shalt sone good tydyngis here. The false Duke barrard ys dede (Of hys sowle can I no rede) Thorrought a pylgryme full hardye, That terry defendyd of felonye.' To-fore the emperoure tho he cam, Yet had he gret dred of blame. 'Sir Emperoure,' quod sir Gye, 'Lo here the Erle terrye.' On knees fell than sir terry: 'Sir Emperoure,' he seyd, 'mercye! Sir,' quod terry, 'here am I: Longe haue I bene full drery. I have bene in sorrow stronge Yere and halfe: me thynketh longe That I had neuer reste on daye, But that I have travellyd aye, To seche sir Gye yf I hym found Well far in meny an vncouth land. In Englond I herd seye, There he was noryshed and borne, in faye, That he was wente in excile; Therfor that lond ys in peryle. Now herd I seye that a pylgryme (Have he goddys benyson and myne!) He hath the Duke berrard shente: I hope god hath hym hether sent.' On knees then fyll sir terrye, And seyd, 'lord, for goddys love, mercy!' Dukis, Erlys gret plente, That were curteys men and free, Down they fell on knees anone, For terry they prayed euery-chone. The Emperoure be-held the Erle terry, For hym he waxed full sorye: The terys ran of hys eyen down. 'Terry,' he seyd, 'gentill baroun, Thow hast had full gret traveyle, Hyt semyth well, with-owten fayle. Of the I have gret pyte: Thys day thow shalt seasonyd be In all thy land, castell, and toure. Yet shalt thow have more honoure: I make the steward of all my lande, And hyt be-take in-to thy hande.' Then seyd all hys baronye, 'Sir Emperoure, graunt mercye!' The Emperoure kyssed sir terry, And for-yave hym all folye.felony? cf. l. 10101. Duke, baroun, and euery man All they kyssed sir terry than. All Ioyed in that Citee That terry, the knyȝt so free, Was accordyd with the emperoure: All they spake of hym honoure. Quod the emperoure to sir terry, 'Sey me now, for seynt mary, What ys he that ylke pylgryme? Ys he thi brother or thy cosyn That faught with berrard so hastylye, To defend the of thi felony? I wend that ther had be no knyȝt In the worldthe r of world added above the line. so bold a wyght, That durst ayenste berrard fyȝt, But it wer foure or fyve well dyȝt.' 'Sir,' quod terry, 'as I trow, And by the feyth that I to yow owe, Thys pilgrym saw I neuer are, But in the wey as I can fare, Ne neuer wyste or now ryght That he for me wold fyght; But now I wote, with glad mode I prey to hym that dyed on Roode Yeld hym hys mede with-owte fayle: He hath me delyuerd from gret traveyle.' The emperoure dyd hendly: To hys chambre he led sir terry; He clothyd hym nobly well In clothes lyned with sendell; He yave hym stedis ij or thre, The beste that were in that contre. He wente to Gornoyse hastelye, And wyth hym he led sir Gye. TO the Cite com sir terry, And ys receyved nobelye. The pylgryme with hym he brought: That hyt was Gye wyste he nought. He sowȝt hys cowntes thorowȝ the londe: At the laste he her fande. She was hyd for gret dowte For the duke that was so stowte. Now ys terry bold and wyght, Of all that lond moste of myȝt. In all-mayne he doth hys wyll, What he lyste, lowd or styll. Terry for-yate in no manere The treasoure thanthat MS. in the Rochere That they found betwene hem two By the way as they gan goo. To gornoyse he dyd hyt bryng: Ther was many a rych thyng. He yave hyt all to sir Gye, But he wold none, securly: Of gold and syluer had he no thought, But to serue god, that hym bowght. And he bad yeve some pore man with hys hond, And with that other a-store hys land. Vppon a day sir Gye hym be-thought, Lenger to dwell ther wold he nought. He toke hys leve of sir terrye, And spake to hym well derley: 'Sir,' he seyd, 'now wyll I fare: With the may I dwell no mare. I pray yow, yf youre wyll be, That ye awhile rown with me: Such thyng now ye here saye, Ye wyll have wonder, by thys daye. But loke that no man come with yow.' 'Nay,' quod terry, 'as I trowe.' Terry lepe on a mule amblend: Thorought the Cite they went spekend. Must no man with hym goo, But they alone hem-selfe two. Forth they went to-geders her waye: Wiste no man what Gye wold seye. When they had go but a myle, They sett hem down to reste a while. 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'herken me now: Ye know me not, as I trowe. And yf ye vndyrstond wele, Ye cowd know me some deale. Can ye not that man know That some tyme was your felaw, That slew for yow the Duke otown, And delyuerd yow of hys presoun? And efte I found yow woundyd sare In a foreste as I gan fare, And sethen slew thevys fyftene, And brought thy lemman bryȝt and shene, And the from foure knyghtis wanne, And slow hem there euery man, And on my horse led the a stounde, And helyd the of thy sore wounde, And sethen socoured thy fader dere, And halpe hym in many a mystere,amystere MS. And slow thys Duke sethen with my hond, That chasyd the owt of·thy land. More ther ys, thow wottyst well what, Hyt nedyth not sey all that. Thys is Gye that thow syeste here: Thow owtest me to know in som manere. Gye of Warwyke ys my name: To tell the hyt ys no shame.' Terry myȝt not on word speke: Hym thowght hys herte wold to-breke, To ground fell in sorrow then: More sorrow had neuer man. 'O sir Gye, my dere fellawe, Why myȝt I the neuer knowe? Alas that I byd thys daye: Myn eyen be blynd, so may I saye. Well myȝt I know a-ryght That yt was Gye, the noble knyȝte, By the streng[t]h, and by the myȝte, And by the strokis soso] and MS. bold in fyȝte. Who shuld have bene so strong of hond, That durste a-ȝenst berrard stonde, But hyt were ye, leve sir Gye? Of my symple knowyng, sir, have mercy. I aske mercy for love of Iesu nowe, That I cowth not know yow.' Downe he fell to hys feet, And be-gan full sore to wepe. Gye[s] legges were bare euery-deale, That somtyme were clothed well. Ther he wept, and wrong hys hond: In the world ys noonman) MS. levand Of so stronge herte that can hyt see, ButThat MS. of hym he myȝt have pyte; And so had Gye so grete mornyng, That they fell both in sownyng. 'Terry,' quod Gye, 'my fellow dere, I wyll wend, ye shall dwell here. I the be-tech god all-myȝte: He the kepe both day and nyȝte. I have a chyld be my wyfe: He ys a knyȝt, yf he have lyfe. Yf he ever have to the mystere, Helpe hym with thy powere.' 'My dere brother,' quod terry than, 'For hys love that mad man, Be-levyth here styll ryght, And my trouth I wyll the plyȝt, All in thys world that ys myn, I wyll the plyȝt hyt shall be thyne. And yf ye wyll not do that thyng, I prey yow, doth myn askyng, That I may the world for-sake, And to youre company me take, That we be partyd in no manere, Whyle we bene in erth here: Me ys lever to wend with yow, And suffer both honger and sorrow Than to be from yow with all the honourre That hath kyng other Emperoure. And we both to-gedyr were, Though we hadden sorrow and care, Hyt shuld vs please, leve brother, And eyther of vs love well other.' 'My frend,' quod Gye, 'let be thy fare: Therof speke thow no mare. Wend thow home, as I the seye, And trewly serve thy lord to paye. Be not prowd in no manere: Help thy lord in hys mystere. Lyve in pease and not in stryfe: Dysheryt no man, be thy lyfe. Yf thow do, wyt thow well In hevyn shalt thow have no deale. Thynke on the Duke berrard stowt, That was so prowd all a-bowȝt, How he had dysheryte the And many an other: as thow mayst see, Now ys he dysheryte all, And full evyll ys hym be-fall. And I the sey for that berrard Of blysse of hevyn have he no parte. Dwell thow here; for I wyll fare: Iesu the kepe euer from care. To-Gedyr they kyssed hem full swete: At theyre departyng sore gan they wepe. Forth then went sir Gyon, The gentyll knyȝt, the bold baroun. Terry went home anone, In-to hys chambre ys he gone: Two dayes yet he no mete, Ne no man myȝt of hym wordys gete. When the cowntes herd seye That Gye was passed so aweye, She blamyd her lord gretlye, That he ne had hold styll sir Gye: 'Yf he ne wold dwell for fayrenesse, Ye shuld have hold hym with dystresse.' Now wendyth Gye well drery, Ofte he thought on sir terrye. So longe hath Gye hys weyes gon, He passed landys many one: Commyn he ys to the see, And to Englond wold he. A good shyp there he founde, And sayled in-to Englond. He askyd men that he ther found Where was the kyng of the lond. 'At Wynchester,' they seyd, 'now ys he: There he muste nedys be. There hath he made a gret somons Of dukis, Erlys, and of barons, And to all that armys bere, That they be redy there, Bysshoppus, Abbottis of the lond, That they be redy at hys hond, And all hys clergye, That thereRead they? now be redye. Thre dayes and thre nyght Have they fasted all ryght, That god shuld send a man of myȝt That with the Geaunt durst fyȝt. The kyng aulofe of denmarke Ys comyn with oste styf and starke, With armyd men xv thowsand, To dystroyen all thys lond. Ther ys not lefte in that contre Castell, toure, ne Cyte: To Wynchestre vnto the wall Hyt ys brennyd and dystroyed all. The kyng aulof ys so stoute, That all men be-gynne hym to dowȝt, For a Geaunt styf and stronge, Moche grete and swyth longe. Men seyen he was in ynd bore: Blake vysage he hathe to-fore. In bateyle men dredyn him more Than sixty knyȝtis that armyd wore. Colbrond ys hys name: God geve hym care and shame. He hath sent to kyng athelstone, And bad hym flee hys land anone, Other el[l]ys be-commyn hys manne, And bere hym trewage for hys land than, Other ellys fynd an orped knyȝt That dare with the geaunt fyȝt.' 'Where ys herrawd,' quod Gye than, 'That forsoke neuer no man?' 'Hyt ys sethen go two yere or thre Sith he went owt of thys contre, To sech hys lordys son so free, That marchauntis stollyn ouer the see.' 'Where ys,' he seyd, 'the Erle rohold, A dowȝty knyȝt and a bold?' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'par ma faye, He ys ded full many a daye.' Sir Gye gan pray specially, 'God on hys sowle have mercye. What doth hys dowȝter the cowntas?' He seyd, 'she doth gret almesse. No man ne woman in that contree That doth more good for charyte To pore frerys and pore abbeyes, And to helpe bryggis and brokyn wayes, And pray to god, as he well maye, Lette her abyd that daye That she may see her lord so dere Quyke or ded in som manere. She blynneth neuer nyȝt ne daye, For her lord she prayeth aye.' To Wynchester now goth sir Gye, Hym knew no man that hym sye. He mete frerys of that contre, And goth with hem to that Cyte. Hyt was in a somers daye, Kyng athelstone at wynchester laye. He clepyd all hys baronage, Erle, baroun, knyȝt, and page: 'Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'herken to me, All that trew & feyth-full be. I byd yow yeve me som cownceyle That may all thys lond avayle, How I may best defend my ryght, Ayenst the danys for to fyght. The kyng awlof ys stowt & kene (Ther ys none so stowȝt, I wene) For that thefe colbrond; Hys tryst ys all in the Geande. He wyll vs chase owt of thys land, And slee all that commyn to hys hand. Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'purvey yowe: Hit ys for your aldre prowe. Oure beth the Rych cytees, The brod land, the large sees: All ys oure more and lesse. Tymbyr on your gret Richesse, On your chyldern, and your wyves, And most on your owen lyves: Yf yow hyt lose thorow yll fare, Ye bene shent for euer mare. Yet I aske yow ryght Yf ye know eny knyȝte That ys so boold & so wyght That dare ayenst thys Geaunt fyȝt: He shall have my lande Trewly seasonyd into hys hande And to hys eyers for euermore: That shall he wyn therfore.' They stode all styll, and lokyd down, As a man had shavyn ther crown. 'God,' he seyd, 'and seynt marie, That I am carefull and sorye, When I may not a knyȝt Find with a nother to fyȝt! O,' he seyd, 'sir Gye the wyght And sir herrawd, þe douȝty knyȝt, Had I bene so ware and so wyse, And holdyn yow in my servyse, And yeven yow the thryd parte of my lond Other halfen deale in your hond, Ye wold have quyt me my mede: Than durst I not this Geaunt drede. He ys not wyse, be myn hood, That levyth hys frend for any good, Hys hownd other hys hawke so dere, Hys horse other hys good squyer: Thouȝ he myȝt not quyte þe fyrst day, Yet do hym not awey; For are the VII yere wynne he may All hys costage in on daye. Had I yoven Gye so gret plente, That he had dwellyd in thys contre, He wold have quyt me full well All my traveyle euery-deale. Full bold be these danys, And gret cowardys the Englyssh, When I may not fynd a knyȝt That dare with another fyght.' 'Syr kyng,' quod the erle of Kent, 'I wyll yow saye all myn entent: Do yow somown thorouȝ all your land, That they be redy at your hand: All shull they be well dyȝt, And ayen the danys fyȝt. Thorouȝ goddys grace we shull hem slone: Other cowncell gett ye none.' Kyng athelstone lay that nyȝt In hys bed well I-dyȝt: All that nyȝt he lay wakand, And euer to god fast byddand That he wold hym send a man That durst do the bateyle than. And god of hevyn for-yate hym nouȝt: As he lay in grettest thouȝt, An angell come to hym full ryȝt, And spake to hym from hevyn bryȝt: 'Sir kyng,' he seyd, 'slepyst thow? To the me sent my lord Iesu: He bad the aryse vp full erlye, And to the church thow wend in hye. A pylgrym shalt thow fynd thare: Take hym home with the full yare. Byd hym for love and charyte, And for god, that dyed on tre, That he for the take the bateyle, And so he wyll, with-owten fayle.' With that the angell went awaye: The kyng gan wake, hyt was nere daye. He was a ryght Ioyfull man, For he had such tydyngis than. Sone to the church gan he goon With hys barons euerychone, And with hym two bysshoppus of the lond: To pryme of the day gan they stond. With that there come pore men To the church ix or ten: Among hem come a pylgryme. The kyng toke hym by the slaveyne, And seyd to hym in fayre manere, 'Come home with me, my frend dere. Be not afferd for no thyng: Thou shalt have good gestenyng.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'lett me stond styll: Yet to herborow have I no wyll. Here I go my mete byddand: Ryght late I com into thys land.' The kyng seyd, 'com with me: Full well at ease shall thow be.' The kyng and he to chambre went, After hys barons he hath sent. 'Pylgrym,' he seyd, 'for charyte And for hys love that dyed on tree, Helpe me now in this mystere With thy strenght and thi powere. A bateyle with danys have we tane: Fyght for vs, or we be slayne. Lysten now, and thow shalt here How it ys and in what manere. Thourugh þe myȝt of on mannus hand Shall I wynne other lose my land: Ageynst a geaunt shall he fyght, In all thys world ys none so wyȝt. The kyng Awlof, that ys now here, He ys so sykur of hys powere: He weneth ther be none lyvand That may hym stond a stroke of hand. For hys love I the praye That made both nyȝt and daye, Thow take for me thys bateyle: God wyll the quyte with-owt fayle.' 'Sir,' quod Gye, 'lett be thy fare: Now to fyght byd me not yare. I am a wrech as ye may see, Also febull as I may bee.' Tho arose the kyng full hastylye, And fell on knees be-fore sir Gye. Dukis, Erlys well curtesly All they cryed Gye mercye, That he wold the bateyle take For Goddus love & for hys sake. Sir Gye be-held the kyng then, And with hym all other men,an other man MS. How they setten on her kne, And asked helpe for charyte. 'A-ryse vp,' quod sir Gye. 'Now ye all for help crye, I shall for yow do thys bateyle: With help of god wyll I not fayle.' Vp arose the good kyng, And kyssed sir Gye with-owt lettyng. Thorouȝ all the land was Ioy than That the kyng had found a man That with colbrond wold fyȝt: 'He shall hym slee with goddys myȝt.' They senten to awlof the kyng, And toldyn hym with-out lettyng That they had found a knyȝt That wold ageyn the Geaunt fyȝt Armyd Redy at the daye Which ys set, with-owt naye: 'All redy shall [he] be dyght, And defendyndefendyd) MS. hys lordys ryȝt.' When the day was come sone, And the bateyle shall be done, Gye was armyd, with-owte fayle, With an hawberke of dowble mayle; Vppon hys hed an helme ryght With a crest of gold well dyȝt: Ther-on were many Rich stonys Of gret Vertu for the nonys. A Chaurbocle in the front was, That shone as bryȝt as any glasse. Ther-with myȝt men se anyȝt, As yf hyt had be the day lyȝt. Theron was a coluer of gold, The Ioly creste in hys fote gan hold. Ther-abowȝt ther was a floure Peynted well with rych coloure. Hosyn he had well I-dyȝt Of yren and stele made for to fyȝt. Sporrys he had on hys hele Of red gold euery-deale. Hys shyld he caste abowȝt hys swere, A good swerd he toke there. They brought a sted to hys hand, The swyftest of all Englond. Vp he lepyd as a noble knyȝt, And blyssed hym with hys hand ryȝt. In hys hond he toke a spere, And into the place he hyt bere. When he was come into the place, To be-sechbe shech MS. god of hys grace, Of hys sted he lepe a-downe, And lay long in a flyxowne. 'Lord,' he seyd, 'for thy passyoun, That savyd danyell fro the lyon, Save me from thys fowle fellown, And bryng me to savacioun, And lend me grace thys ilke daye (For well I wot that thow maye) To slee thys thefe with myn hond, And fro trowage save thys lond.' He blyssed hym with hys hand ryȝt, And on hys sted he lepyd full ryȝt: Styrrop ther towchyd he none; Therof spake many one. All they seyd that ther were A fayrer man saw they neuer. The bookebroke MS. was brouȝtbrest MS. hem be-forne: Kyng Awlof hath fyrst sworne, Yf hyt be so that hys man fayle, And be convycte in that bateyle, In-to denmarke wyll he fare, And neuer do Englond harme mare, Ne hys Eyers fro that nyȝt Neuer chalenge of Englond ryȝt. Sethen sware kyng Athelstone, Yf hyt be so hys man be slone Be-fore hys barons euerychone, Ther in bateyle be for-done, He shall do Aulof ther homage, And yeld hym for hys land trewage. And, when they were sworne & accordyd in one, And ostagisestatis MS. for them both take anone, Then com forth that colbrond: Gret and strong was that Geaund. A Carte onneth myȝt hym bere The Armoure he brought with hym to were. He wold no horse to hym a-dyȝt, But on fote wold he fyght. That ylke Geaunt was full starke: Vppon hym he had a good hawberke. Mayled hawberke hyt was nought, Of stele gaddys was hyt wrought, That hylled all hys gret bodye, Armes, and all, sekurly. Hys hosyn were of the same entayle Well I-wrought, with-owt fayle. Hys helme was styf and stronge than: He drad no stroke of englyssh man. He had a swerd of good stele: A man myȝt not hyt bere wele. He had a shyld full brod tho (Was neuer non better, so must I go), With Iren and stele all ouer-led: Hyt was the devyllys as men seyd. Many a man was of hym a-drad: All was blake that he on had. A spere full long he had in hond, Many a wepun he mad be hym stond: Sherpe sperys stod hym abowȝt, And long gleyves a full gret rowȝt, Gauelongis to cast with hys hond, And sharp geserns, I vndyrstond, Gret axys also with-all To hewyn with yren or stelle small. Hym-selfe was dyȝt full securly: Men wondryd on hym tha[t] stodyn by. NOw be they set to-gedyr thore: Sir Gy hym dred swyfe sore. He was neuer so adred of man As he was of hym than. Sir Gye smote hys sted full ryȝt, To colbrond he can hym dyȝt. Ere he myȝt com hym nere He met with hym in thys manere: Thre dartis he shote full tyte; The two passyd, the thyrd gan byte. Thorrow the shuldre the darte yode, And thorough the hawberke, that was good: Betwene hys arme and hys syd The stroke gan awey glyde. Gye smote then with herte good To colbrond ther he stode A myȝty stroke in the sheld,The l added above the line. That a pece flye in-to the feld. Colbrond lyfte vp hys brond in haste, And ment to sir Gye a stroke in waste. Sir Gye wold have stert be-syd, But he hym yave a stroke that tyd. Vpon hys helme he wend well To have smytten himhem MS. with hys swerd of stele, But be-twene sir Gye and hys arsown Fell the stroke of that fellown. He smote hys sted evyn in two: Hys swerd in-to the erth gan go. Gy fell down to the grounde, But up he stert in a stounde. Hys good swerd tho he drew owt, And smote to hym a stroke full stowȝt Also hard as he myȝt drye, But he myght hym not rech for hye. Gye myȝt vp-ryght by hym stond, And hys swerd in hys hond, To hys shuldre myȝt he wynne, But no hyȝer for no gynne. On the shuldre fell that dynte, For the hawberke wold hyt not stynte. A grete pece he smote of tho, And the Flessh he carfe also. The blod ran down to hys syd: He had a grete wound and a wyde. Colbrond lykyd that stroke full yll, And smote to Gye with good wyll: On Gyes helme he smote so faste, The sercle of gold all to-braste; A-down he fellyd the flowres all. On the sheld the dynt gan fall: The good shyld he carfe in two; Tho was Gye carefull and woo. He saw halfe be-fore hym lye, Be-hynd hym the tother partye. Tho he hurte hym ryght sore, Vp he caste hys swerd thore. He smote the geaunte on the shyld: Meny a man the stroke be-held. The bond of iren all to-roofe, Other halfe fote the sheld cloofe. With gret myȝt and mayne As he drew hys swerd ageyne, Hys good swerd brake in two: Tho was sir Gye full woo. Now ys comyn hym feble grace: Hys sheld ys brokyn in the place, And, worste of all, hys swerd good. 'God,' he seyd, 'that dyed on Rood, Why am I thus evyll dyght? And I for Englond fyght, For to save hyt fro trowage: Why ys me fallyn that owtrage?' Now be these danys stowȝt and prowd, And seyen ecchone, with-owte dowȝte, Englond lorne shall be. Kyng athelston aferd was he. 'Syr knyȝt,' quod than colbrond, 'Thy swerd ys broken in thy haud: Thow haste no wepyn, that I may see, Where-with thow myȝt defend the. Yeld the now to me in hyȝe: Of the wyll I have mercy. For that thow were so bold & wyght, Ayen me that thow durst fyght, To kyng athelstonRead Aulof? wyll I goon, And make the and hym at-oon: Castell and toure shalt thow none fayle, And thow do after my counceyle.' 'Nay,' quod Gye, 'so must I thee, Shall I neuer traytoure bee. Though my swerd be now a-wey, My lord of heven, that well maye, May make the lose thy good brond, That ys so sykur in thy hand. Thow haste wepun gret plente: Ther-of I byd the thou lend som to me, Then shall we se sone in hye Who shall have the mastrye.' 'Fellow,' quod than Colbrond, 'So me helpe tormagaunte, Wepon for me shalt thow none have, But now shall I sle theme MS. with my staffe. I wene hyt were me full Ill To lend the wepon at thy wyll. Or thow shall do me ony scath Here shalt thow lose thy hed rath.' When Gye herd hym so speke, For tene hys herte wold to-breke. 'No forse,' quod Gye, 'wylt thou so done: I wyll have wepon well sone. Lo where commyth on be-hynd the That bryngyth me wepon plente!' Colbrond lokyd be-hynd hym tho: He thought well what he wold do; He sterte forth, or he wold stynte, And a good axe in hys hand he hend. Then seyd Gye with gret Ire To colbrond, the gret sire, 'Now,' seyd Gye, 'have thow mawgry: Now have I of thy wepon plenty.' When colbrond saw that dede, He stert forth as man in nede. With all hys strenght he smote to Gye, But he sterte bake in hye. As Iesu cryste ys wyll was (Hyt was a full wondre cas), The swerd in-to the ground gan dryve Thre fote also blyve, And, as he after the swerd gan stoupe, Gye hym smote with-owte dowȝte: With both handys the axe he hente, And yave the Geaunte a gret dynte. Hys ryght arme he smote aweye: Hys swerd vpon the ground laye. Tho was the Geaunte full sory, And to hys swerd he sterte in hye: With hys lyfte hand he wold assay, For the ryght hand was awey. Ryght as he be-gan to stoup than, Gye wente nere as a hardy man: Hys good axe he reryd on hye With both handys full myȝtyly: He smote hym in the neke so well, That the hed flye of euery-deale. The geaunte ded on the erth laye, The danys mad gret sorrow that day: The king aulof was well sorye, And all hys men that stod hym bye. To theyre shyppys be they wente All for-shamyd and for-shente. Ioyfull was the kyng athelstone And hys barons euerychone: They toke sir Gye hem amonge, And led himhed hem MS. forth with mery song To wynchestre, the good cyte. All the clergy of that contree Comyn with gret precession, And ladden sir Gye into the town. And as they gan hym homward bryng, 'Te deum laudamus' gan they syng. Gye on-armyd hym there, And askyd hys slavyn and no more.mere? MS. The kyng clepyd hym in prevyte, And prayed hym for charyte That he shuld hym the soth seye, What was hys name, with-owte naye. He wold hym yeve londys wyd, Castellys, and towers on euery syd. With hym he shuld dwell thare: Nobly well shuld he fare. Of all the men in that contree Most honowred shuld he be. 'Therof,' seyd Gye, 'speke ye nowȝt: Hyt ys nothyng in my thouȝt. I wyll not therof, securlye, The mowntans of an halpenye. I have done thys bateyle: Thankyd be god of hys cownceyle. He lent me both streng[t]h & myȝt Ayenst the Geaunt for to fyȝt. Of all that I have now don for the Thanke hyt god and nothyng me.' 'Mercy, pylgryme,' quod the kyng, 'For hys love that mad all thyng, And shed hys blod on the rode For mannus sowle and mannus good, Tell me now, with-owt blame, Where were thou bore, & what ys thy name?' The pylgrym seyd, 'ye shall here: Sith ye wyll wyt in all manere, Than commyth, yf your wyll be, Alone owt of the Cyte with me. Then shall ye the soth here, What I am, with good chere, So that ye be-wray not me Now here in thys contre.' Owt of the town gan they goo Alone, and no mo but they two. When they were passyd halfe a myle Gye seyd, 'sir, abyd a whyle. Syr,' he seyd, 'now shall you hereThis line added in the margin in the same hand. What ys my name with good chere. Sir,' he seyd, 'I am Gye ryght Of Warewyke, your owen knyȝt. Some-tyme ye lovyd me full dere: Now am I such as ye se here.' When the kyng wyst vtterly That hyt was the noble Gye, On hys knees he sett hym downe Ryght ther be-fore sir Gyoun. 'Pylgrym,' seyd the kyng, 'mercy! Art thow the noble knyȝt sir Gye? Full longe hyt ys syth I herd seye That thow were ded & all aweye. Thankyd be god hevyn kyng That I have herd of the tydyng. Thys day halfen-deale Englond I wyll sease into thyn hand Euer-more quyte and free.Two leaves of the MS. are want|ing here. 'What art thow that seyest such thyng? Art thow god, of hevyn kyng?' 'An angell of hevyn,' he seyd, 'I am: Mighell,' he seyd, 'ys my name. God hath me to the now sent: Thow haste hym seruyd with good entent. I shall come with angellys bryght, And bryng thy sowle to hevyn lyȝt.' When he had seyd forth he went: Gye thankyd god of hys present. He was glad of hys maundement That god of hevyn hym had sent. When the tyme was com nyȝe That he wyste that he shuld dye, To hym he clepyd hys page hend.The e of hend altered from o. 'Fellow,' he seyd, 'thow must wende To warwyke with-owten more. The countes thow shalt fynd thore: To her bere thys ylke rynge, And she wyll the geve rych thyng; And sey to her that ylke palmere That ete to-forne her farne yere, To whome she all her mete sent, Both clarey and pyment, Sendyth here thys ilke ryng (And gretyth well her) to tokenyng. When she may the ryng sene She wyll hyt know, as I wene: She wyll the askyn hastylye, And yeve the yeftis rychelye, For that thow shalt her tell there Where that dwellyth the palmere, And thow shalt sey, in thys forrest Amonge many a wyld beste. Sey her thow hast seruyd me, And long tyme with me be. Tell her more of my manere: She wyll the make the better chere. When she hath herd thy Tydand, She wyll come hedyr, I vndyrstond. Here she shall me fynd dede: Byd her bery me in thys sted, And sey her she shall dye in hye After me full hastylye.' The knave answeryd full redyly, 'Youre Errand shall be don in hye.' The page was full sone I-dyȝt, To warewyke he come anone full ryȝt. The cowntesse he found full redy thare: He sett hym on hys knees full bare. 'Madam,' he seyd, 'heryth my tydyng, And the wordys that I bryng. The pylgryme sent yow word now That farne yere ete to-forne yow. I not whether ye knew hym nowe: He ys a good man as I trowe. Now wonnyth he ther in that forrest, And levyth as a wyld beste. He ys full of the holy gost: Hevyn kyng he lovyth moste. Be me he sendyth yow thys ryng (And gretyth yow well) to tokenyng.' She toke the ryng, with-owt dowȝt, And lokyd hyt all a-bowȝt. 'Iesu,' she seyd, 'of hevyn, mercye! This ys myn owen lord sir Gye.' Also swyth she fell to the ground, And thries she sowned in a stownd. When she myȝt speke, hastyly To the messyngere she gan crye: 'My dere frend, tell as tyte, Where wonnyth that holy hermyȝt?' 'Madam,' he seyd, 'I wyll yow saye, In the forrest a ryght fer weye: He wonneth there in an hermytage. He bad me sey yow thys message, Ye shuldyn bery hys bodye Ryght ther in that hermytory Ther hys body lyeth now dede: For-soth, I can no nother rede. Also he seyd ye shuld now [in] hye Dye after hym full hastylye.' When the lady herd so sey, She was full glad that ylke day That she myȝt her lord see: A Ioyfull woman myght she be; But yet full sorrowfull was her rede Lest she shuld fynd hym ded. She bad men shuld her mule bryng, And forth she went with-owt lettyng. She went to that hermytage: Euer be-for her ran the page. When she was at the dore alyȝt, In swone she fell anone ryȝt. She arose & went in Ryȝt drerly: Her lordys body she lay ther bye. Rewly she cryed ther for the nonys, And he lokyd on her onys: He kyssed her fayre & curtesly; With that he dyed hastylye. Ther dyed the noble knyȝt sir Gye: Seynt Mighell was ther full redye With mery song of angellys bryȝt, And bare hys soule to hevyn lyȝt, And presentyd hit to the hevyn kyng; Ther shall he be with-owte endyng. Now ys ther that lady trewe In that chappell: her sorrow ys new. She sowned on her lordys bere, And kyst hys mouth with wepyng chere. Hys fete, hys hondys she kyssed than, So dyd many an other man. All that with her commyn were Mad mornyng and sorry chere. All they yode that corse to kysse: The sowle ys in hevyn blysse. God dyd hym there gret honoure: Fro hym ther cam a swete sauoure. Though ther were all the spice That groweth in erth or in paradice . . . . .A line wanting here in MS. Then com fro that body free. Euery manmant MS. that seke were Of hys body sech helpe there. That swete sauoure fayled nouȝt, Tyll hyt was in the erth brought. And then she sent her sond To all the bysshoppus of the lond, Abbottis, priores, and other clergye For to com theder full hastyly. They worshypped all that body, And beryed hit full rychely. Thedyr come the kyng Athelstone And all hys barons euery-chone. 'Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'thys ys sir Gye, Of warwyke the Erle worthy. He faught for me worthylye At wynchester, ye all hyt sye, And slow for Englondis ryȝt Of all the world the strengest knyȝt. Also he slow here in Englond A dragon, for-soth, as I vndyrstond, Full fer in the north contree: All ye hyt know that here be; So that twyse this blessyd knyȝt Hath savyd Englond with hys myȝt. In all thys world ne was hys pere. This gentyll knyȝt that lyeth here, Yf he had coveyted honoure, He myȝt have beneThe b altered from p. an Emperoure. The Emperoure hym bad hys douȝter dere With all hys landys ferre and nere For hys douȝtynes of honde That he provyd in hys londe. Of all the world the grettest lord With the Emperoure was a dyscorde, OfAnd MS. babylon the hyȝe sowdan: Thrytty kyngis hym omage done. Sir Gye hym slow at hys bord: All they ne durst speke on word. He brought hys hed to the Emperoure. Of Cristendom he was the floure. He slow ameraunt, the bold paynym: All the world was a-drad of hym. He slow the Duke Otown of pavy For hys treason and hys trechery, And sethen berrard after hym: He was a Geaunt styffe and gryme. This gentyll Gye, of whome I talke, Thorough all the world hath he hys walke. All falshed and trechory Euer-more he wold dystroye. I may well hyt avow ryght, That he was a trew knyȝt. Vppon a boke he dyd me swere At Wynchester no fer ne nere That I shuld wrey hym tyll no man Tell thys twelmoneth were a-gone. I have holdyn myn othe parfaye: Yesterday was the laste daye. GodThe o partially effaced. assoyle the sowle ryȝt.' For sir Gye, the noble knyȝt, To Warwyke wold they hym bere With gret honoure, to berry hym there, But the cors, that lay ther dede, Myght no man stere of that stede. Quod the lady, 'lett hyt bee: Hens shall hyt neuer for me. He bad me be hys messengere That I shuld berry hym here.' They toke a marbyll hem be-twene, And berryed hys body theryn. For-soth, ther was that ylke nyȝt Feyre servyse and noble lyȝte, Also ther was on the morne When he was berryed hym be-forne. Songyn ther ys many a masse, And dole I-dalte to more and lasse. As sone as he was berryed there Euery man gan hedyrRead heþen? fare But the lady gentill and free: Styll ther wold she bee. Fro thens wold she not fare While she levyd neuer-mare, But servyd God with good prayer For Gye, her lord, that was so dere; And so she dyd, with-owt fayle, Nyght and day with gret traveyle In goddys seruyse nyȝt and daye. All that tyme that she ther laye Euer she dyd almes dede, And god a-quyte well her mede; And euer she bad god besyly That she myȝt dye after hym hastyly. She dyed at the fourty daye After Gye, as I yow seye. She was beryed hastyly Ryght ther be her lord sir Gye. To-gedyr be they in company In blysse: I hope to oure lady, Iesus graunt vs so to do, That we may com hym to. Lordyngis, now have ye herd Of Gye of Warewyke, how he fard, And how he led hys long lyfe In bateyle and in stryfe, But euer he lovyd hevyn kyng Moste ouer all thyng, And god hath a-quyt hys mede, In geste as ye have herd rede. All goodnes was in that knyȝt: Feyre aventures fell hym in fyȝt. He was neuer yet in no stoure But he had moste honoure. When sir Terry herd ryght That Gye was ded, that noble knyȝt, He come into ynglond: Kynge Athelstone sone he founde. He told hym of the love stronge That was be-twene hem full longe. He prayed for the body of Gye þe knyȝt, And he hym graunted a-none ryȝt Gyes body with good chere To take hyt in fayer manere. To lorreyne he dyd hyt bere, And dyd hyt gret honoure there. A feyer Abbey dyd he make In that Cyte for Gyes sake. Richest hyt ys, and euer shall be, Of all the Abbeyes in that contre. Thus endyth the geste of sir Gye: God on hys sowle have mercy, And on owres when we be dede, And graunt vs in hevyn to have a sted. Amen. Reinbrun, Gij sone of Warwike. Iesu, þat ert of miȝte most, Fader, & sone, & holy gost, Ich bidde þe a bone: Ase þow ert lord of our ginning, & madest heuene and alle þing, Se, and sonne, and mone, Ȝeue hem grace wel to spede Þat herkneþ what y schel rede, Iesu, god in trone. Of a kniȝt was to batayle boun, Sire Gij is sone, þat hiȝte Rey[n]broun, Of him y make my mone. ¶, though sug|gested by the scribe, omitted by the rubricator. His fader Gij, þat him get, He was a werrour swiþe gret: Þar nas nowhar his per In Fraunce, in Pycardy, In Spayne, in Lombardy, Neyþer fer ne ner. Mani batayle he be-gan For þe loue of o wimman Þat was him lef & dere. Siþe Rey[n]broun on hire he wan, Þat was a swiþe douȝti man, Ase ȝe may forþward here. ¶ Þay were togedre fifti niȝt, After a spusede þat swete wiȝt Wiþ meche melody. Þanne was be-ȝete þat baroun, His sone þat was cleped Rey[n]broun, Of þat kniȝt sire Gij. Fourti wikes wiþ child ȝhe was & dilyured þourȝ [godes] gras And is moder Mari. Cristned hit was werschipliche: Reinbroun men calde him, sikerliche, For-soþe andRead y? nouȝt ne lye. ¶ Heraud hadde þat child to lore Seue winter and wel more: Ful wel he gan him lere. Be þat he was seue winter old, He was a fair child and a bold, And of swete chere. So hit befel þat of fer lond MarchaunsMarchaund MS. riche, ich vnder-stond, Hider þai come were: Gold and seluer þai brouȝte meche, Badekenes and pane riche, Gris and menyuer, ¶ Bras, maslyn, yren, & stel, Wod-wex, selk, and cendel, Gingiuer and galingale, Clowes, quibibes, gren de Paris, Pyper, and comyn, and swet anis, Mani a riche bale, Fykes, reisyn, dates, Almaund, rys, pomme-garnates, Kanel and setewale, Scarlet and grene wel y-wrouȝt: More richesse wiþ hem hii brouȝt Þan y can tellen in tale. ¶ Þai riuede at Londen þat cite: King Aþelstond þan fonden he, Þat her was king wiþ croune. A ȝaf hem leue in alle wise To wende wiþ her marchaundise In is londe fro toun to toune. To Walingforde þai gonne fare: A strong bourȝ þai fonde þare (Þai boskede & made hem boune), Ac it was strued, wiþ-outen lesing, For werre of Heraud & þe king: Hit was niȝ brouȝt adoun. Þe marchauns kedde hii wer fre: A Spayniis mvle than token he, To Heraud hii [hit] sende. For he was lord of þat cite, Wiþ him hii þouȝte wel to be: So þai han him kende. Sire Heraud, for soþ to say, Bad hem ete wiþ him þat day, Er hij þannes wende. Þe marchauns seie þe child goand In þe halle faire pleiande, Þat was so faire and hende. ¶ At a kniȝt hii askede anon riȝt Whas was þo child so faire of siȝt And of swete chere, And he answerde anon, y pliȝt, 'Hit is Gij is sone, þe gode kniȝt, Þat Heraud haþ to lere.' Þe marchauns hem beþouȝte, Ȝif hii þat child haue mouȝte, Hii wolde stele him þere; &, ȝif hii hadde þat child bolde, Richely in-to her londe þai wolde, And selle hit full dere. ¶ Wiþ þe porter þai speke stille, Þat hii hadden al her wille. Þai ȝeue him riche mede: He betauȝte hem þe child þare, And into schip þai gonne fare; Away þai gonne him lede. Þay gonne saily toward Roussy: Al glad hii were þet londe to sy; Hii þouȝte wel to spede. Al siker hii were alond te gon, Ac swiche a strom hem cam upon, Þat sore hem gonne drede. ¶ Þe wind began to blowen loude, Þe elmence þikkede on þe cloude: Gret strom hem wex vpon. Þe four wyndes began to blowe, Þe se gan tornen & to þrowe: Ded hii wende haue ben echon. Here ropes to-borsten, her mast also: Þar nas non þat him nas wo; Hii made reuful mon. To Iesu Crist þai gonne crye And to his moder Marie: Nas þer no beter won. ¶ Þe wind faire slake gan: Mery in þe se þe schip ran. Ase god hit wolde Þai wer driuen al þe niȝt: In Aufrik þai riuede riȝt; Þai toke a wel gode holde. Þe marchauns han it vnder-nome, Þat hii beþ into Aufrik come: Hii þouȝte þat hii wolde Þe king of þe lond presenti Wiþ þat child þat was so fry And of chere bolde. ¶ Of hem hii token marchauns þre Þat noble were, curteis, & fre, Wiþoute more duelling: Þai toke þat child, veraiment, And made þerwiþ a present To Arguus þe king. Þe king hadde a douȝter fair: Of al Aufrik ȝhe was air, A swiþe fair ȝonling. Meche ȝhe kouþe of menstralcie, Of harpe, of fiþele, of sautri, Of romaunce reding. ¶ So was Reynbroun, for soþ to say, Meche liche þat faire may Of semlaunt and of chere. Besouȝt ȝhe haþ be hir moder rede, & to hire fader king ȝhe sede, 'Leue, fader dere, Y mote him in me chaumber norsy: Ȝet a may me seruy; Norture y schel him lere.' Þe king him graunted þourȝ alle þing, For he hire louede wiþ-oute lesing, To ben hire plaie-fere. Whan sire Heraud parseued was Þe child was stole, for þat cas Gret sorwe he gan make. He let seche him in þat cite: Mani man made gret pite For þat childes sake. Wiþ mesagers a sente is sonde To seche him in mani londe Ȝif hii him miȝte of-take; &, whan hii him finde ne miȝte, Sorwe hii made day & niȝte: For drede þai gonne quake. ¶ Hit nas nouȝt longe after þan, Þat in Londen held king Aþelstan A riel parlement. Sire Heraud þeder gan gon: Þe king aRead him? werschipede & mani on, Whan he was þeder y-went. Oþer hadde þer-of envie, And þouȝte hii wolde on him lye, Þat a wer y-schent, & segge he hadde Reinbroun sold For is wiȝte of rede gold To þe marchauns, verayment. ¶ 'Lordinges,' seide þe king y-core, 'Al ȝe ben to me y-swore For helpe me at nede. Ȝour consaile wite y welle. Wel ȝe witen ȝe han herd telle Ase ȝour eldren sede,fede MS.? Þat þe king of Denemark Þourȝ a geaunt stor & stark Kalaungeþ al oure þede. A gret ost he haþ y-nome & ȝif he may vs ouercome He makeþ our sides blede.' ¶ 'Sire,' queþ Heraud, 'þarf þe no drede: Þourȝ godes help we scholle wel spede Þei he vs wile asaile. Gode kniȝtes ȝe han & cite stro[n]g: Ȝif ȝe him douteþ it is wrong For al is grete taile. Myn eldren seide, ich vnder-stonde, Þe Dennisch men hadde riȝt in þis londe, Wiþ-outen eni faile, Whilom, & nouȝt ful ȝore it is, & siþþe þai han it lore, y-wis, And here folk in bataile. ¶ Now þai han loren here riȝt: Hii weren ouercomen in fiȝt Þourȝ help of god almiȝte. Þarfore ensemle þe barouns Þat haþ þe toures & þe tounes Before þe an hiȝte.anhiȝte MS. At what hauen þai alende, Ase tit aȝen hem we scholle wende Wiþ hors and armes briȝte. & ȝif a comeþ in þis londe, y-wis, We scholle sle him & alle his: So wel we scholle fiȝte.' ¶ omitted by the rubricator, although sug|gested by the scribe.Þanne seide þe king, 'þow hast wel sed: Þou hast red me a gode red; Y-blessed mote þow be. A beter rede ne wot y non: Ase þow hast seid so y schel don, Also mote ich þe. Þow ert me beste consailer: In al þis lond þer nis þe per Þat ich mowe y-se. Al þe while icham coren king, Don ich wile be þe teching, Sire Heraud þe fre.' Þe duk Medyok vp aras: Of al Cornewaile lord he was, A sterne kniȝt & a grim. 'Sire king,' a seide, 'herkne to me. Þow ert nouȝt wis ase þe holdest þe, Whan þow leuest on him. Þow werschepest him fer & ner, And he nis boute a losenger Ful of tresoun [and] gin. Beter we beþ to þe consaile Þanne þe treitour, wiþ-outen faile, Be god and seinte Martyn. ¶ His gode lord traye he gan Þat þourȝ him he was maked man, Of Warwik sire Gij: Euel he haþ is while ȝolde, Whan he Reinbroun, is sone, solde To þe marchauns of Roussy: For gold & seluer gret plente To þe marchauns diliurede he, Ase we gonne aspie. & ȝif he hadde þe riȝte lawe A scholde ben hanged & drawe For þat trecherie.' ¶ Þo Heraud herde him speke so, Him þouȝte his herte barst ato: Vp he sterte an hye. 'Felawe duk,' a seide, 'þow lyxst, Whan þow wiþ tresoun me betwyxst: Þow dost me vileynie. Þow hit schelt to soþe bringe Þat þow hast seid be-fore þe kinge, Or þow schelt abye. Hasteliche now arme þe: Anon it schel proued be, Þat þow dost on me lye. ¶ Ich wile þat y ben hanged & drawe Boute y defende me wiþ þe lawe Of þis famacioun, Þat þow seist y scholde selle Me lordes sone þat ich of telle, Þat men clepede Reinbroun. Whan ich þe soþe parseued hadde, Þe marchauns him hadde wei ladde Me of-þouȝte þat tresoun. Wiþ mesagers y sente me sonde To seche him in mani londe: Þow lyxst on me, feloun. ¶ Before þe king i say þe riȝt, Þar-to me treuþe y þe pliȝt: To seche him y schel fonde In Fraunce, in Lombardie, In Spayne, in Spir, in Roussie, In mani an honkouþ londe. Betwene þis and þe lond of Ynde Ȝif a be, y schel him fynde, And bringe him to honde. & whan ichaue so y-do Þin heued y schel smite þe fro: For no man nel ich wonde.' ¶ 'Pes, feloun,' queþ [þ]erl of Cornewayle,ȝis feloun quaþ þerl of cornwaile 'Al þe lesing schel þe nouȝt vaile: Traytour þow worst holde.' Þat herde anoþer kniȝt: Egar a het, forsoþ apliȝt, Heraud is man y-tolde. His steward, for-soþ, he was: He sterte vp in þat plas, And to the duk a wolde. 'Felawe duk,' a seide, 'þow lixst, Whan þow me lorde be-twixst Þat he Reinbroun solde. Fif hondred siþe haue þow maugre Of Iesu, þat sit in trinite, Iesu ful of miȝt, Boute þow swiþe arme þe, & do þe bataile aȝenes me, And proue itproued MS. ariȝt.' Þar hii hadde togedres smite, Nadde þe king hit vnder-ȝite, & departede hem an hiȝt. He bad hem lete be þat fare, & besouȝte hem to make hem ȝare Aȝenes þe Dennisch king to fiȝt. HeraudBeraud MS., by a mistake of the rubricator. wiþ is ferde fre Wente to Walingford þat cite Ful of sorwe and care. 'Egar,' a seide, 'þow schelt be-leue, & kepe þis land to me be-heue, And forþ ich wile fare, Til ich Reynbroun finde may: Y ne schel reste niȝt ne day, Til ich wite whar he ware. Ac war þe fro þerl of Cornewayle: He wile arere on þe batayle; He nele þe noþing spare.' ¶ 'Sire,' queþ Egar, 'we scholle vs were, Þat he ne schel vs noþing dere, Þei he vs wile agreue.' Heraud went out of þat cite: For him was maked gret pite, Whan he tok his leue. Hasteliche to schip a wente, Gode wind and weder god him sente: In Denemark þai gonne riue. In Fraunce, in Lombardie, In Spayne, in Spyr, in Roussie Reynbroun a souȝte bliue. ¶ Þourȝ mani londes þai him souȝte: Whan hii miȝte finde nouȝte, To schip þai gonne fare. To Costantin noble hii wolde wende: Swiche a tempest god hem gan sende, Þat hii come nouȝt þare. Þai were driue wiþ-oute þe toun: In Aufrik þai riuede soune. Þanne wer þai ful of care. Þe cite on þe riuage hii sye, Meche & wide, & walles hye: Of blisse þai wer al bare. ¶ 'O god,' seide þe meister þo, 'Gret mishap is come vs to: Our lif y telle y-lore. In Aufrik we ben, wiþ-outen lesing, Upon Arguus lond þe king: Worsse man nas neuer bore. Al þat leueþ in godes lawe A wile hem hongen & to-drawe: His oþ he haþ y-swore. Al for-soþe, we beþ dede, Boute god vs helpe at our nede, Þat was of Marie bore.' ¶ Heraud seide, 'whas is þis cite? Distrued it is, so þenkeþ me: Her haþ be strong bataile.' Þe maroner seide, 'y þe telle For soþe, sire, lye i nelle: Wiþouten eni faile, Hit is þemerailes Parsan: In þis world nis þer worsse man Cristene men to asaile.' Þe Sarazins come wiþ þis, & nemeþ Heraud & alle his, And distrueþ is vitaile. ¶ Þai nomen Heraud & al is man, And brouȝte hem before Parsan, Þat was of gret power. He let hem caste in prisoun Stinkande & þerk, wel fer adoun, For þai cristen were. Lite þai ete & dronke, ywis: Vnneþe her lif sostened is; To god he made his prayere. For Reynbroun him was ful wo, For he neste whider he was go: He made reuly chere. 'O,' seide [he], 'allas, allas! In werre douȝti man y was, And now icham for-lore.' On of þe gaylers herde þis: To þemeraile a wente, y-wis, And gan him telle fore: 'Sire,' a seide, 'wite nouȝt ȝe Of a prisoun ȝe han in ȝour pouste, A noble man y-kore? A is wel douȝti in bataile * * * * *A line is want|ing here in MS. Ase icham to ȝou swore.' ¶ Queþ þemeraile, 'bringe him forþ now. Ȝif he be swich ase seistow, Meche helpe me a miȝte.' Þe gayler wente aȝen anon, & to þe prisoun he gan gon, And Heraud vp atwiȝte. In a sklauin he gan him folde. Swiþe meche a was be-holde Of mani a douȝti kniȝte. His berde was to is brest y-wax, To his gerder heng is fax: Grisliche he was of siȝte. ¶ Before þemeraile hiihem MS. gan him lede, & a-reisoned him in ech a side, 'Man, what is þe name? Whar wer þow bore (tel me now), Þat so meche of werre canstow? Of þe ichaue game. Ich, ameraile Parsan, Icham a swiþe douȝti man: Wide springeþ me fame. Miȝte [y] of þe siker be, Þat þou woldest serue me, Ne schostow haue no schame.' ¶ He answerde, 'leue lord, To þe ich wile bere rekord, And telle y wile þe: Heraud, for-soþ, me nam is (In grete dede ichaue be er þis), So men clepeþ me. Ȝif me stringþe wer aȝen i-come Þat ichaue lore in þe prisone, Ich wer of gret pouste. Find me stede gode & liȝt, Spere, & scheld, & armes briȝt: Þe man wile ich be.' ¶ Queþ þemeraile, 'wolcome, ywis! Þow schelt haue þat þe nede is, Briȝt armur & stede. Ingliis þow ert, sikerly: Knew þow ouȝt þe gode Gij, Þat douȝti wes of dede?' Heraud seide, 'y knew him wel: His man icham & euer be schel. He was tauȝt me to fede. His sone was stolen himRead me? fro: To seche him icham y-go, Ȝif god me wolde spede.' Þemeraile cleped is chaumborlain, And bad him wiþ al is mayn Heraud to him take. In pourpre pal þei gan him schrede, & founde him al þat was nede, And baþes let him make. On a day sire ameraile Tok Heraud in consaile Wiþ-oute þe castel gate: 'Now Arguus king werreþ on me, Me nis leued boute þis cite For grete werre & hate. ¶ Þe king haþ a kniȝt wiþ him Sterne in bataile & swiþe grim: Of swich þow neuer herd. In þis world nis man, sikerly, Boute hit wer þe lord sire Gij, Þat of him nolde ben aferd.afered MS. Miȝtest of him awreke me, A noble prins þan schostow be, & sle him wiþ dent of swerd.' Heraud seide, 'so y schel do, Ȝif god wile helpe me þerto, Be min hore berd.' Wiþ þat com a mesagere bold, To þemeraile he haþ y-told Swiþe hard tiding: King Arguus stiward wiþ-outen let On of is castels hadde be-set, Wiþouten eni lesing. Whan þemeraile herde þis, He bad is stiward, for-soþ y-wis, His folk be-fore him bringe. So a dede riȝt anon, & bad hem bosken euerichon Al boun to batailinge. Heraud lep on a rabytearabyte MS. Þat was meche, & noþing lite, Rod out of þe toun. Þat ost him siwede fair & wel, Til hii come to þe castel Wiþ spere and gounfanoun, Wiþ helm on heued & brinie briȝt. Iyren-wrye mani a kniȝt To bataile wer þai boun. Ayþer ost gan oþer asaile: Ech man fondede, wiþouten faile, To felle is foman adoun. ¶ Heraud a Sarazin smot, Þat he fel doun fot hot Dede of is stede. Þe þredde, þe ferþe þat he mai hitte— No man miȝte his strok wiþ-sitte. For wreþþe a wolde a-wede. Wiþ is swerd of meche pris Mani Sarazin a slouȝ, y-wis, And made here sides blede. Þe Sarazins seide hit was a fend Þe deuel hadde þeder i-sent ÞemeraileEmeraile MS. to spede. ¶ Þe king hadde a Sarazin, His stiward, þat seruede Apolyn: Heraud he gan þrete. Heraud he mete & is men echon: Hard þai hewe to-gedre anon, And delde dentes grete. Þe stiward was sconfited þere, Abated was þe meister banere: To fle þai nolde lete. Heraud siwede him on a rabyte:arabyte MS. Hard hii gonne to-gedre smite Sterne strokes and grete. ¶ Here scheftes schiurede, scheldes flitte, Brenyes barsten,barsteþ MS. hauberk ritte: Þar was strong bataile. Heraud ouercom him in þat fiȝt, And ladde him to his folk ariȝt, Wiþouten eni faile. Prisouns þai toke gret plente: Forþ hii wente to þat cite To þemeraile, & presente him þe stiward, Þat in werre was so hard, Swiþe heȝ of paraile. ¶ Þanne seide þemeraile, 'Heraud, do be me consaile: Me stiward þow schelt be. Erles, barouns, riche & poure, Al me land folk lasse & more Scholle do after þe.' Þanne gret werre he began: Boþe into is hond he wan Castel and cite Þat þemeraile hadde lore: King Arguus made þar-fore Deul and gret pite. ¶ Þo þe king wiste þis, Þat his stiward nomen is, And al his men a-slawe, Wroþ he was and sori: His barouns a clepede an hie, And tolde to hem þat sawe. Þanne answerde an old kniȝt, 'Sire, y nel þe lye no-wiȝt: A kniȝt of cristene lawe Þemeraile is souder is he. Þe wer beter þan þis cite Þat he wer of dawe. ¶ Hore a is and kniȝt ful eld: Wel gode hit were to flen is scheld. Sire, þe miȝt me leue: In al þe lond Sarazin þer nis Wer he neuer so strong, y-wis, Þat he nolde to-cleue.' Þe king seide, 'a fendafend MS. it is. To Mahoun i swore, y-wis, Wel sore y schel him greue. Min ost schel ensembled be, In is lond schel brenne and sle: No cite schel ich be-leue.' ¶ Þe king a parlement let crie. To þemeraile a wolde an hie Wiþ briȝt armvr & stede, His castels struede & is cite: Þat Heraud wan þanne les he, Douȝti man of dede. Whan þemeraile wiste þis He bed is kniȝtes, for-soþ y-wis, To helpe him at is nede. Heraud was prest to bataile: Þe king is ost he gan asaile; God þat day him spede! Faste þei smite to her fon: Wiþ swerdes, speres wel gode won Togedres þai gonne fiȝte. Gret slauȝter was in eiþer side: Þe blod ran in þe feld wel wide Of mani a douȝti kniȝte. Heraud mette wiþ þe king, & smot him wiþ is swerd keruing A strok of meche miȝte: Þer he hadde slawe him þo, Boute his ost com him to: AnAnd MS. hors þai gonne him diȝte. ¶ Wel stoutliche þe king gan fiȝte: Al þat a mette he felde doun riȝte. Heraud he gan discrie. Þemeraile was sconfited þere: Abated was þe meister banere And al here cheualrie. In eche side asailed a is Wiþ speres & wiþ swerdes, iwis, Þat he miȝte nouȝt flie. Wiþ is swerd a wereþ him wel In eche side, ase a gode kniȝt schel, Whiles a miȝte driȝe. ¶ Þo he seȝ Heraud a cleped him to: To helpe him he gan go. An erl Heraud gan mete: Heraud wiþ is fauchoun him smot A dent þat þourȝ is helm bot; Þar a lefte þe swete. Heraud & þemeraile anon Delde dentes wel god won: For noþing þai nolde lete. Þe king þai sailede and al is men: So mani ȝede to deþe þen, Þat grimly þai gonne grete. ¶ Þe king wel sori þanne was he, Whan he seȝ is men fle, And al y-brouȝt to gronde. Whar þat he seȝ Heraud ride He fleȝ awei be þat oþer side Wel sory in þat stonde. His men ouercome were: Þar-fore sori he was þere & for his owene wonde. King Arguus, for-soþ, a geþ:ageþ MS. A was afered of is deþ Ȝif þat a were y-fonde. ¶ Whan Heraud parseued is, Be his armes a knew him, iwis, And after him he gan ride. Neȝ he hadde him ouer-come, Slawe, oþer in þe feld y-nome In þat ilche tide. Þanne seȝ he come a ȝingling (Ouer al þe oþer a miȝte be king) Out of þe wodes side. Þe king him hadde dobbed kniȝt, Ȝeue him hors & armes briȝt Wiþ wel meche pride. ¶ Whan he seȝ þe king fleande, Heraud after him folwande, He him gan discrie: 'Old man, no forþer þow ne gon, Boute þe ȝeue me bataile anon. Þow dost a gret folye. Þe lif þow lest er þe gon: Þin heued þe king schel haue anon; For-soþ, þow schelt abye. Þe rabite is min, sikerliche: Y ne disirede neuer hors so meche Þat y sauȝ wiþ eye.' ¶ Sire Heraud knew him anon Be his armes he hadde vpon: Togedres þai gonne ride, Þat boþe þei fellen of here stede, & seþe gonne swerdes brede: No lenger þai nolde abide. Hii cleueþ helm & scheldes bo: Gret fiȝt þer was betwene hem to In þat ilche tide. Þai hewe þe scheldes of gode entaile, Þe hauberk of so gode a maile Te-borsten be boþe side. ¶ Betwene hem was strong batayle: Eiþer fondede, wiþouten faile, To bringe oþer to dede. Ac, ȝif aiþer wiste of oþer ariȝt, Betwene hem to þar ner no fiȝt For none skines nede. Sire Heraud drouȝ him an heȝ, And seide, 'kniȝt corteis and sleȝ, Alse god þe spede, What is þe name? tel þow me, For godes loue in trinite, And of what þede. ¶ Aȝild þe now to me: Gret harm it wer to sle þe, So ȝong a bacheler; For neuer kniȝt y ne fond So wel werchande wiþ dent of brond Naiþer fer ne ner.' Reinbroun seide, 'þerof be stille: Þat telle þe y ne wille, Be godes moder dere. Er þan ich wile ȝelde me Erst þin heued schel of fle Faste, be þe swere. ¶ Boute þow now telle me Wheþen þow ert, & what þow be, I schel þe sle anon riȝt; For þow ert old & whit i-blowe, Þe stringþe is gon alse y trowe, Þe power and þe miȝt.' Heraud seide, 'me frend fre, So fareþ folk in me contre In bataile and in fiȝt: Whan hii ginneþ for to helde, Þanne þai wexeþ stout, & belde, And stronge men, apliȝt. ¶ Er þow fro me departed be, Wel ȝonge thow schelt holde me, And douȝti man of dede.' Togedres þai smite, wiþ-outen faile, Ase sterne lyouns in bataile, Kniȝtes stif on stede. To-gedre þai smite ernest & faste: Þe fur out of here helmes braste, And made here sides blede. Ful dedli fon now þai are: Ȝet þai scholle be frendes þare; Crist þer-to hem spede! ¶ Heraud seide, 'sire kniȝt, Herkne to me a lite wiȝt, For þe courteisie. Gode þow ert & hardi, ywis: In al þis land þe beter nis Þat ich conne aspie. Ȝif it were þe y-teld Which ichaue ben in feld Of miȝt and of meistrie, Ne wostow neuer aschamed be Þe name for to telle me, Ne holde hit to vileynie.' ¶ 'Sire olde man,' þanne seide he, 'For a coward ich holde þe. Min armes beþ al sonde, Me strokes beþ sene on þin helm cler: Out of þe scheld ichaue a quarter Y-feld to þe grounde.' Heraud seide, 'me frend fre, Þei min armes apeired be, Me bodi naþ no wounde. What is þe name? tel me fore, & y schel sai þe whar ich was bore, Er ich fro þe founde. ¶ Swiche tiding þow miȝt of me here, Or ich of þe in swiche manere, Þat frendes scholle we be. I ne aske it for no vileinie, Boute for meche courteisie: For loue ich asked þe.' Wiþ þat Reynbroun wiþ-drouȝ him þere: Wiþ drery semlaunt & reuful chere To Heraud seide he: 'Kniȝt,' a seide, 'thow ert wise, Sleȝ, and hardi, of gret prise, Be god in trinite. ¶ Y nolde haue told it for non awe: Erst ich wolde ben islawe In þis ilche batayle. In Ingelond ich was y-bore, So were min eldren me be-fore, Wiþouten eni faile. Gij a Warwik me fader was: No beter kniȝt neuer nas, Ase wid ase man mai saile. A stiward hadde me fader Gioun Þat hiȝte Heraud, þe noble baroun, Swiþe hiȝ of paraile. ¶ Lord he was of al Arderne: Ich was take him to lerne To conne of courteisie, And siþe marchaundes stele me (And brouȝte me to þis contre) Þat weren of Russie. Þe king me haþ dobbed kniȝt, & ȝeue me hors & armes briȝt To lede is chiualrie. Be me lai a dede me swere In eueri bataile is baner to bere: Þar-of y nouȝt ne lie.' Whan Heraud herde þis, Þat he Gij is sone is, Away a cast is scheld. 'Lord,' a seide, 'in trinite, Fader and sone, y-herd þow be! Þis dai ya MS. bide in min eld, Þat ich me lordes sone se may!' For ioie a wep al þe day, And swonede in þe feld. Reinbroun hadde of him pite, And seide, 'sire kniȝt, tel what þe be, For god, þat alle þing weld.' ¶ 'Heraud,' a seide, 'me name is: 'Ich norschede þe, Reinbroun, y-wis; In my nory þow were.' Sone Reinbroun wiste þis, Þat [he] Heraud of Arderne is, Merci a cride him þere. Sire Heraud tok him vp þo Leuelich in is armes to Wiþ hertte & wel gode chere. On here stedes lopen he, & forþ hii ride to þe cite Wiþ meche ioie y-fere. ¶ To þemeraile tolden he How þai acorded be Þourȝ grace of god almiȝte. King Arguus was ouer-come, & al is men y-slawe and nome In þat ilche fiȝte. Heraud & Reinbroun toke leue þo Into Ingelond for to go, And in-to schip hem diȝte. So longe hii sailede in þe se, Þat in a lond thanne riuede he Þat wonder was of siȝte. ¶ Hii ne seie castel ne cite: Erst hii wente in al þe contre (So distrued it is), Til it toward þe neuen cam. A castel þei seie fer hem fram: To þe gate þai riden, iwis. Of þe porter Heraud gan craue, 'Tel me now, so god þe saue, Was þis castel is? Forhel itForheled MS. nouȝt, we bedeþ þe: Kniȝtes we beþ of fer contre, Ase god ȝeue vs blis. ¶ Þis in we beddeþ par cherite, For godes loue in trinite, Þat is lord [so] fre. To-morwe anon so it is day We scholle wenden in our way Towardes our contre.' Þe porter answerde anon riȝt, 'Of þis lord i ne can telle no-wiȝt, Ne in what contre a be. Ac a leuedi her-in is Ful of del and sorwe, y-wis: Wel sore wepeþ ȝhe ¶ For hire lord þat ȝhe haþ lore: Ioie ne worþ hire neuer þer-fore For non menstralcie.' Þe porter in anon gan wende, And tolde tale ord and ende To Amis is leuedy: 'Madame, her beþ come twei kniȝte: Noble men hii be in fiȝte. Þai wolde her soiurny Al þis niȝt, for soþ to say, To-morwe wenden in her way: Þarof y nouȝt ne lye.' ¶ Þe leuedi seide, 'let hym in: Þai scholle be serued wel afyn, Be þe grace of god almiȝte.' Þe porter wente aȝen anon, & to þe gate he gan gon, & let hem in ful riȝte. Þe kniȝtes were kende kore: Whan þai come to halle dore, Adoun þai gonne liȝte. Men toke here swerdes, scheld, & spere, Here stedes, and here oþer gere: Ful wel men gan hem diȝte. ¶ Þe leuedi faire grete hem anon: To vnarme hem hire-selue is gon Wiþ a wel gode chere. Here mete was redi wiþ-outen let: Anon hii were adoun y-set To þe sopere. Heraud askede hire, y-wis, 'Dame, what þe lordes nam is Fayn ich wolde hire.' 'Of þe Montayne he het Amis: Wiþinne Almayne no swich þer nis, Me leue frendes dere. ¶ A stiward was wiþ þemperour (To al Almayne he was treitour), Sire Berard of Paui: Me lordes swike euer was he; Þourȝ him in al þis sorwe we be. For þe loue of sire Gij, Þat me lord louede wel, & sokoured him in is castel, We beþ in gret vileinie. For þe dukes deþ Otoun, Þat was a treitour feloun, He vs gan beliȝe, ¶ And made vs fle out of þat londe, & in þis contre we beþ astonde, Þat wonder is of siȝt: Mechel Arderne cleped it is. A fairy kniȝt herin is Þat is of meche miȝt: Wiþ him ones fauȝt me lord, & ȝaf him dentes wiþ is sword Vpon is helm briȝt. Wepne mai him dere non: He is so hard to hewe vpon Ase marbel, y þe pliȝt. ¶ On a dai me lord honted a best, & drof it out of þe forest Wiþ-inne is merkes stake. Siþþe herde ich of him namore: Þarfore me of-dredeþ sore Þe kniȝt him haue take.' 'Allas,' queþ Heraud, 'is it Amis, Þerl of Montaine of gret pris?' Gret sorwe he gan make. 'O,' a seide, 'sire Reinbroun, Wel a louede þe fader Gioun: We mote him helpe for is sake.' ¶ Reinbroun seide, ase he was hende, 'Tomorwe ich wile þerder wende To seche sire Amis.' 'Me swete frend,' queþ þe leuedi, 'Be þow nouȝt to foul-hardi; For gret perel it is.' Amorwe Reinbroun aros erly, And armede him ful hastely, For to winne pris. A gode stede he bestrod, & forþ a wente wiþ-oute abod To þe forest, ywis. ¶ Heraud wiþ him go wolde, Ac he seide þat he ne scholde For non skines nede, & he dradde of him strangliche, & betauȝte him god in heuen riche, & in is wey a ȝede. Heraud blefte, & he gan gon: Þe merkes stake a pased anon, Þat was wel vnrede. Al þe dai a tok þe pas, Til it noun apased was, Ridand vpon is stede. ¶ An hille he seȝ before him þere: Gates þeron maked were. Forþ riȝt he rod in. Þe gate aȝen anon was spered: Þo was Reinbroun sore afered, & faste blessede him. Nouȝt he ne seȝ boute þesternesse. Half a mile a rod, ywisse: Þe wai was þerk and dim. He rod ase faste ase a miȝte: Þanne he seȝ more liȝte Be a water is brim. ¶ To þe water he com sone þas: A riuer be a laundealaunde MS. þer was; Þar he gan to liȝte. Faire hit was y-growe wiþ gras: A fairer place neuer nas Þat he seȝ wiþ siȝte. On þat place was a paleis on: Swich ne seȝ he neuer non, Ne of so meche miȝte. Þe walles were of cristal, Þe heling was of fin ruwal Þat schon swiþe briȝte. ¶ Þe reftes al cipres be, Þat swote smal casten he Ouer al aboute. Þe resins wer of fin coral, To-gedre iuned wiþ metal Wiþ-inne and ek wiþ-oute. On þe front stod a charbokel ston: Ouer al þe contre it schon, Wiþ-outen eni doute. Postes and laces þat þer were Of iaspe gentil þat was dere, Al of one soute. ¶ Þe paleis was beloken al Aboute wiþ a marbelamarbel MS. wal Of noble entaile. Vpon eueriche kernal Was ful of speres & of springal, And stoutliche enbataile. Wiþoute þe gate stod a treatre MS. Wiþ foules of mani kines gle Singande, wiþ-oute faile. Þe water was so sterne & grim, Miȝte no man come þerin, Boute he hadde schip to saile. Reinbroun dorste nouȝt pasy: Wiþ is spere a ganagan MS. it prouy, How dep hit was beside. He þouȝte on is fader fot hot: Þe stede in þe side a smot, & in he gan to ride. Ouer is helm þe water is gon: He nolde haue be þer for eiȝte non; Swich aunter him gan betide. Er he vp of þe water ferde, A fond it was þretti mete ȝerde: So dep he gan doun glide. ¶ Þanne he þouȝte on Iesu Crist: His hors was wel swiþe trist, & quikliche swam to londe: His fet fastnede on þe grounde. Reinbroun was glad in þat stounde, And þankede gode[s] sonde. In-to þe pales he him dede: He [be]helde þe est[r]es of þat stede; For no man a nolde wonde. Ac wimman ne man fand he non þere Þat wiþ him speke or confort bere Naiþer sitte ne stonde. ¶ And þar-of war a is. Into a chaumber a goþ, y-wis: A knight a seȝ al-one. A grette him wiþ wordes fre, & seide, 'sire, god wiþ þe be, Þat sit an heȝ in trone. Sire,' a sede, 'tel þow me Ȝif þis pales þin owen be: Ich bidde þe a bone. &, ȝif þow ert her in prisoun diȝt, Tel hit me, so wel þow miȝt: To me now make þe mone.' ¶ Amis answerde to Reinbroun, 'In Almayne ich was a baroun, And now icham for-lore. Ich was driue out wiþ a feloun, And now y lye her in prisoun: Allas þat ich was bore! Of þis paleis inam no lord. Ich telle þe a soþe word Wiþoute oþ iswore: Hit is a kniȝtes of fayri, And al þis forest her-by, A sterne man y-kore. ¶ Þis paleys is of swiche miȝt, Her schel no man elde, apliȝt, Be he her neuer so longe. Þei he wer her a þosand ȝer, In is heued schel hore non her, Ne non elde fonge.' Reinbroun seide, 'ert þow Amis, Þerl of Montayne of gret pris? Þow singest a reuly songe. Now ichaue fonde þe, Þow schelt wende now wiþ me Out of þe paines stronge.' ¶ Amis seide,Another seide erased. 'spek nouȝt so: Of þe me wondreþ, so mot y go, Þat þow ert hider y-come. Siþe þis world ferst began, In þis paleis nes n in l. 5, and er i no in l. 6 a com noman, Boute ȝif a wer i-nome,s n in l. 5, and er i no in l. 6 a Boute ȝif þe lord him hider ladde, Oþer of him sum leue hadde: Nis non so hardi gome. How miȝtest þow lede me, Whan þow miȝt nouȝt saue þe? Ich telle þe at þe frome.' ¶ Reinbroun seide, 'drede nouȝt þe; Þar-fore schel hit nouȝt lete be. Go we anon riȝt. Ȝif eni man so hardi were Þat vs wolde at-helde here, His deþ wer y-diȝt: Swich a strok ich him ȝeue wolde, Þat is heued lese a scholde, Be grace of god almiȝt. Þei he wer te bataile boun Ase sterne alse eni lyoun, Wiþ him ich wile fiȝt.' ¶ Amis seide, 'let now be: Swiche stringþe mai nouȝt helpe þe Aȝenes sire Gayere; For noþing ne schel him dere Wiþ no wepne þat man may bere, Naiþer stel ne yre; Ac, ȝif þow wilt ouercome him, Þat ilche swerd to þe nym Þat hangeþ a þe pylere.' Reinbroun braide it out anon riȝt: Þe chaumber was al ful of liȝt Þat schon swiþe clere. To þerl Amis anon a wond, & tok him vp be þe hond: No leng hii nolde abide. Out of þe paleys boþe hii ȝede, And lopen on Reinbroun is stede, And forþ þai gonne ride. Nouȝt fer þannes beþ hii gon, Þai be-held aȝen anon Vpon here riȝt side: Comande hii seȝe ride a kniȝt Upon a stede gode and liȝt, Prikande wiþ pride. ¶ Swift ase swalwe he com ride: 'Kniȝtes,' a seide, 'ȝe scholle abide, No forþer þat ȝe ne wende. In me paleys þow hast y-be, And me prisoun ledest wiþ þe: Þow dost a dede vn-hende. Her ȝe sholle bleue bo In me prisoun for euer-mo Into þe worldes ende, Or þow schelt, Reinbroun, þin hed forgo. Kep for me: icham þe fo; Bataile y wile þe sende.' ¶ Þerl Amys þer aliȝte: Arome he drouȝ him anon riȝte, And Reinbroun Gayer gan smite. Gret strokes hii smite betwene, Þat adoun hii fellen bene: Aiþer sparede oþer lite. Siþe þai drowe brondes on grounde, & hewe to-gedre wiþ grimly wounde Wiþ swerdes þat wolde bite. Ȝe herde neuer a stringe[r] fiȝt. Reinbroun stirede him as gode kniȝt: Hit was him nouȝt to wite. ¶ He þouȝte on is fader anon riȝt: Ase fresch a was to fiȝt Ase grehonde to hare. Betwene hem twie was gret fiȝt: Aiþer smot oþer in helmes briȝt, And delde dentes sare. Þai hewe helm and scheldes bo: Gret fiȝt was betwene hem to; Swich herde ȝe neuer are. Reinbroun mademade repeated in MS. him to blede, And felde him doun of is stede: Þanne was he out of care. ¶ Reinbroun be þe nose him tok, And drouȝ to him, & faste him schok: Þat greuede him ful sore. His heued benome him he hadde Ner it þat he merci gradde, & seide, 'sire R[e]inbroun, þin ore, For þe fader loue Gii, Þe beste kniȝt, sikerly, Þat euer was y-bore. Wiþ þat þow haue merci on me, Al me prisouns diliured be, And hennes for euermore.' ¶ R[e]inbroun seide, 'so y schel: In þat forward y graunte wel Þat þow aliue go, So þe prisouns diliured be; Þar-to þe treuþe pliȝte me Betwene vs-selue to.' R[e]inbroun glad & bliþe is: He hadde diliured sire Amis, Þre hondred kniȝtes & mo. Into þe castel wenten hii, Þar was Heraud & þe leuedy Ful of sorwe and wo. ¶ Þai wer welcomedThe first e altered from an o. wiþ fair gle. Whan þe leuedi hire lord gan se, Ȝhe made meche blis, & Heraud, forsoþe, dede also, And herede god almiȝti þo, And Amis he gan kisse. Heraud tolde him al is treye, How he hadde in prisoun leye, For-soþe wiþ-outen misse, Fo[r] meRead his? lordes loue Reynbroun, What sorwe he hadde in prisoun, Honger, and þesternesse. ¶ 'Þis is Reinbroun, Gii is sone, Þat haþ set þe out of prisone, And [brouȝt] þe out of þe care.' Al is lif a tolde him þo, How Gij was out of londe y-go, And how hit was y-fare. Among hem gret ioie þer is: In þe castel was meche blis Among alle þare. Euerich of hem oþer gan kisse, And made meche ioie & blisse: For blisse þai wepe ful sare. ¶ Wiþ þat þer com a kniȝt riding: To þerl Amis a brouȝte tiding Fro þat emperur, Þat þe duk Berard ded is: A palmer slouȝ him, y-wis, Wiþ wel mechel onour. Þemperur hadde sent is sonde A scholde come, and [haue] is londe, Boþe toune and tour; & þat þerl Terry and he Were skyred and maked fre Þourȝ þe conquerur. ¶ Sire Amis wiþ is meyne Wente hom to is contre To þat emperour: A ȝaf him is londes fre, Boþe castel and cite, Wiþ wel meche onour. Glad of him was þemperur fre: Euer a was to him priue Boþe in halle and bour. And also was þerl Terry, Þat was þerles sone Aubry, A man of gret fauour. HeraudBeraud MS. by a mistake of the rubricator. & Reinbroun tok leue þo Into Ingelonde te go: Þanne was þe leuedi in care. Mani iurne þai ride þo Þourȝ Spayne & þourȝ londes mo: Into Bourgoyne þai come ware; Þe contre was strued doun riȝt. Heraud askede askede at a kniȝt How hit was y-fare. He seide, 'þe duk of Marce y-told, Þat is a stout kniȝt and bold, Vs haþ y-brouȝt in care. ¶ Vpon our erl werreþ he: He naþ leued boute þis cite, Þat he naþ y-nome. Ac þis castel is gode engyn: Noblech a wereþ him þer-in Also a douȝti gome. Wiþ him he haþ a noble kniȝt, His souder, siker apliȝt, Þat to him is y-come. Ȝong a is, so þenkeþ me, Nouȝt twenti winter old nis he, Ich telle þe at þe frome. ¶ In þis launde her-before An hondred haþ her lif y-lore, Whan he seȝ hem ride. Her forþ ne schel pase no kniȝt, Ȝif he haþ brenyebreyne MS. or stede liȝt, Þat he ne schel abide, And for-lese þer þat on, Oþer is heued riȝt anon Be þe wode side. Ȝif ȝe be þat launde gon, Ich telle ȝow be sein Ion, Swich aunture ȝow schel betide.' ¶ 'O, god be þanked,' queþ Reinbroun, 'Ichaue founde me compaynoun, Me felle wiþ to fiȝte. Ȝif he wile haue oure þing, Y schel him teche, wiþ-outen lesing, Þat he doþ vnriȝte.' Nouȝt fer þanne ne beþ þai gon, Þai be-helde aȝen anon: Hii siȝe his armes briȝte Vpon a stede whit so flour; His armes wer of rede kolour, A semede of meche miȝte. ¶ 'Sire Heraud,' seide Reinbroun, 'Now y se þat bolde baroun Þat is so stout a fere. Wiþ vs to fiȝte he makeþ him ȝare: Wiþ him to iusten ich wile fare Emforþ me powere. Ich him asaile, ȝif þow wilt so.' Heraud seide, 'so þow schelt do, Me leue sone dere.' Swiþe þeder rod Reinbroun, & he in þe launde com adoun Vpon is deistrere. Aiþer was prout & mody: No word þai speke, sikerly, To-gedres þai gonne driue. Aiþer hitte oþer in þe scheld, Þat boþe hii fellen in þe feld Of here hors beliue. Siþe þai drowe brondes of stel, And hewe togedre hard & wel, And delde dentes riue, & laiden on wiþ swerdes clere: Helm and scheld, þat stronge were, Þai gonne hem al to-schliue. ¶ Heraud beheld longe þat fiȝt: For Reinbroun a bad te god almiȝt Þat he non harm ne fonge. To him-selue a seide þare Swich fiȝt ne seȝ he neuer are Of dentes þat were stronge. 'Sire kniȝt,' seide Reinbroun, 'Vnderstand to me resoun, So god þe saule fonge, Ac neuer ne fond ich a kniȝt Þat me strokes driȝe miȝt Haluendel so longe. What is þe name? whar wer þe bore? Ich þe praie, tel me fore, For loue of oure driȝte, &, ȝif þow wost ȝelde þe, Ich schel þe lede to me contre. Me treuþe i schel þe pliȝte: Y schel þe ȝeueOne or two letters erased after ȝeue. castel & cite, Bourwes, & tounes, & riche fe, And mani a douȝti kniȝte; For þow ert of gret power: In al þis world þer nis þe per Þat man finde miȝte. ¶ 'Sire kniȝt,' þanne answerde he, 'Y nel nouȝt, be him þat made me, Telle þe me name. Þourȝ þe sarmoun scheltow nouȝt wite Whar y was boren ne gete An erneste ne a game: Erst y schel þe sle, verament. Sire, let be þe prechement: Hit is þe meche schame; Ac neuer kniȝt i ne fond So wel worchande wiþ dent of brond Þat ich fauȝt wiþ y-same. Ac y ne sei nouȝt for þam: Þin heued y schel smite þe fram, For-soþe, wiþ-oute more. Þat olde man þat ich y-se (Y ne wot ȝif he þe fader be, Or þow ert wiþ him at lore), Lite a louedealouede MS. [þe], siker þow be, Whan a sente þe to me, He wiþ þe berde hore. Whan ichaue þin hed of-take, Be þe berd y schel him schake, Þat him schel smerte sore. ¶ So y schel him þer-bi ploke, Þat al is teþ schel roke Þat sitteþ in is heued.' &, þo Reinbroun herde þis, Þat Heraud dispised is, His swerd to him a weued: A strok a smot is helm vpon, Þat a quarter gan doun gon; Hit was half to-cleued. Wiþ þat strok a stente adoun al, & to þe erþe a is y-fal: His lif neȝ he hadde leued. 'O frend,' a seide, 'ich bidde þe lete, For it is meche foly to þrete Eni man aliue.' & he ascorn bad him lete, And a sterte vpon is fete Hasteliche and bliue. Haslak smot Reinbroun anon, Þat to þe bokel þe schel[d] chon: Neȝ a gan doun driue. Strong and gode hii wer boþe: Eiþer kedde þat hii wer wroþe To bringe oþer of liue. ¶ Betwene hem strong fiȝt þer is: Swich ne herde [ȝe] neuer, iwis, Siþe þat ȝe wer bore. So miȝte nouȝt longe be: Þat [on] moste þat oþer sle Of þe kniȝtes kende i-core. Heraud be-held þat bataile, How aiþer gan oþer asaile: Wo was him þer-fore. A gret harm him þouȝte it were Ȝif aiþer slouȝ oþer þere: For hem a wep wel sore. ¶ Wiþ þat amonges hem com he, And seide, 'kniȝt, for godes pite, Herkne to me a stounde. Let now ben al ȝour fiȝt, And aȝild þe to þis kniȝt Þat þou hast her y-founde. For he is man of gret power: In al þis world þer nis is per, Ne of so meche mounde. In is merci, y rede, þow [þe] do, Er þan be mad betwene ȝow to Eni mo harde wounde.' He answerde wiþ-oute more, 'Say me ferst, þow faimel hore, Also god þeme struck out before þe. spede, Why me stringþe is for-lore: Siþþe þe time þat ich was bore Y nas in swiche a drede. Ȝif þow ert of fendes come, For whi þis drede me haue nome, Ich wolde þat þow me sede. In gode[s] name ich coniure þe Þat þow þe soþe telle me, And be al is ferede.' ¶ Heraud seide, 'þer-of be stille: Þat telle þe [nis] me wille For noman aliue. Erst þow schelt telle me Wheþen þow ert, & what thow be, Also mote y þriue. Þanne y schel telle þe riȝt Boþe of me and of þis kniȝt Þat ȝif[þ] þe dentes riue. Þin hauberk is al to-siȝe, And þe face wiþ blod bewriȝe Of woundes mo þan fiue.' ¶ He answerde, 'þow seist wel. Boute for drede, be sein Miȝel, Y nolde ben aknowe, Ac for ich wolde wite an haste Whi ich was so sore agaste Now in a lite þrowe. In Ingelonde ich was bore, So were min eldren me before Boþe heȝ and lowe. Heraud me fader het, y-wis:y wis faded. Of Walingforde lord a is, And al þe contre is owe. ¶ Out of londe þan wente he To seche Gi is sone þe fre, Þat marchauns stele away. To þerl of Winchester y was sent: Þar ich was loked, veraiment, Boþe niȝtes and day. Whan ich was woxe of meche pris, Douȝti, and swiþe strong, y-wis, Me felawes gonne say Þat y nas of dedes nouȝt, For þat y me fader [ne] souȝt In vnkouþe contray. ¶ To Walingforde yhe MS. gan gon, Me fader is armes þer y fond anon, His hauberk and is stede, His scheld, and is helm briȝt, And is swerd gode and liȝt, Þat he was woned to lede. Me selue y dobbed me kniȝt þare: Man ne tolde ich it neuer are, Also god me spede. Out of þat londe ich wente þo To seche me fader [in] wer & wo In mani an vnkouþ þede. ¶ Of werre ne herde y neuer speke, Þat y ne com þer me fader to seke: Þus to þis lord y cam. Þe duk of Marce haþ strued him, Boute þis castel is gode engyn. Þe lord þat y wiþ am Neȝ he hadde is lond for-lore (Swiþe wo was him þar-fore), And mani a douȝtiadouȝti MS. man. Boute þretti hors he nadde þo: Now he haþ þre hondred & mo Þat ich in bataile wan.' Heraud herde þis wordes alle: Byter teres he let doun falle, And seide, 'what is the name?' 'Haslak,' a seide, 'þow schelt me calle. Heraud het me fader in halle, & Cristiane het me dame. Now þow wost whar ich was bore, And what ich hatte wiþ-oute more An erneste and agame: To forward þow schelt telle me Whi ich was afered ofof indistinct. þe Þat we made er y-same.' ¶ Heraud beheld þe ȝonge kniȝt, Ac o word speke he ne miȝt For meche ioie and blisse. 'Heraud is me name, apliȝt, And þow Haslak y se wiþ siȝt, Me sone, wiþ-oute misse. Þis is þe lord, sire Reinbroun: Ichaue had for him in prisoun Honger and þesternesse. Þe miȝt him se: a stantastant MS. þe by. Ȝild him þe swerd in is merci, And pray him þat he þe kisse.' ¶ Þo Haslak wiste sikerly Hit was is fader þat stod him by, And is lord Reinbroun, Swiþe loude he gan to crie, 'Fader, for loue of oure leuedye, ȜemThe e possibly altered from an i. me þe benesoun.' Ofte he knewelede to þe grounde, And cride him merci in þat stounde Wiþ gode deuocioun. 'In þe merci y do me riȝt, And euermore to ben þe kniȝt Boþe in feld and toun.' ¶ Þo Reinbroun wiste þis, Þat he Heraud is sone is, Up he gan him take. Leueliche a kiste him þo, Sire Heraud, for-soþ, dede also: Meche blisse þai gonne make. Haslak ladde hem faire and wel Hom til is lordes castel, And tolde, wiþ-oute sake, Þat he hadde is fader brouȝt Þat he hadde wide y-souȝt Wiþ meche wer and wrake, ¶ 'And me lord, sire Reinbroun, Ase sterne ase eni lyoun At euery skenes nede, Þat euer to bataile was boun.' Glad was þanne þerl Myloun, And ȝaf hem riche mede Þe kniȝtes of seluer & of golde, Ase meche as he take wolde, Briȝt armur and stede. So þai wente sone anon For to wreke hem of here fon, Ȝif god hem wolde spede. Fiue dawes before þe Miȝel-mas Þai armede hem more & las Aȝen here fon to fiȝte. Out of þe castel þai gonne pas: Þe duk hii fonden in þe plas Wiþ mani helmes briȝte. Þar miȝte men se scheftes schake, Þar men miȝte se crounes crake Of mani an hardy kniȝte. Heraud, Haslak, and Reinbroun— Al þat hii smite ȝede adoun Of þaiRead that? hii mete miȝte. ¶ Þe duk of Marce seȝ þat tide His folk was slawe be ech aside, & in þe feld alto-dreued. He prikede is stede wiþ meche pride: Aȝenes þerl he gan ride, And smot him on þe heued. Almest a felde þerl adoun: Heraud com wiþ is fauchoun, His body ato he cleued. Þanne Haslak and Reinbroun Þerl is folk þai felde adoun: Noþing þai ne leued. ¶ Þis seȝ al þe barnage: For to do þerl omage, Merci þai gonne crie. Kniȝtes, squier, and page Þai toke þer in-to ostage Of þe duk is partye. Þus þai stablede þe lond wiþ fiȝt, & þerafter anon riȝt Þai toke leue an hiȝe. In-te Ingelonde þai gonne saile.The next leaf gone. . . . . . . . . . . [A Londres sont tut dreit ale, Ou le rei Athelstan ont troue. Le rei encontre eus est ale, Od li le meulz de la cite. Mult duement les ad honure, E del suen assez done. A Rainbrun doune sun conte, E si lui acrest mult sun fie. Treis iours i ont soiurne, Al quart ont pris lur congie, A Warewik uunt, la bone cite: Cil del pais sunt mult le. Rainbrun prent de ses hommes feute: Mult par est entre eus ame. Heraud sen ua a Walingeford, A son chastel bon e fort. Desore i uodra soiurner Od sa femme, bone mulier, Kar mult ad son cors trauaille En plusurs lius por sa leaute. De ceste estorie uoil fin faire: Plus nen uoil desore traire. Bel ensaumple i peut em prendre Qui bien la siet e ueut entendre De pruesce amer, leaute tenir, De tuz biens faire e mal gerpir, Orguil, richesces auer en despit: De Guion nus aprent le escrit Ceo est la summe de la ualur, Ke tut guerpi pur sun creatur. E cil qui en la sainte trinite Vn deu est par sa pite Nus doint en terre si servir, Ke ali en glorie puissums venir. Amen.]