"Mary!" quod þat oþer mon, "now þou so much spelleȝ,

Þat þou wylt þyn awen nye nyme to þy-seluen,

& þe lyst lese þy lyf, þe lette I ne kepe;

Haf here þi helme on þy hede, þi spere in þi honde,

& ryde me doun þis ilk rake, bi ȝon rokke syde,

Til þou be broȝt to þe boþem of þe brem valay;

Þenne loke a littel on þe launde, on þi lyfte honde,

& þou schal se in þat slade þe self chapel,

& þe borelych burne on bent, þat hit kepeȝ.

Now fareȝ wel on Godeȝ half, Gawayn þe noble,

For alle þe golde vpon grounde I nolde go with þe,

Ne bere þe felaȝschip þurȝ þis fryth on fote fyrre."

Bi þat þe wyȝe in þe wod wendeȝ his brydel,

Hit þe hors with þe heleȝ, as harde as he myȝt,

Lepeȝ hym ouer þe launde, & leueȝ þe knyȝt þere,

al one.

"Bi Goddeȝ self," quod Gawayn,

"I wyl nauþer grete ne grone,

To Goddeȝ wylle I am ful bayn,

& to hym I haf me tone."

Thenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet, & gedereȝ þe rake,

Schowueȝ in bi a schore, at a schaȝe syde,

Rideȝ þurȝ þe roȝe bonk, ryȝt to þe dale;

& þenne he wayted hym aboute, & wylde hit hym þoȝt,

& seȝe no syngne of resette, bisydeȝ nowhere,

Bot hyȝe bonkkeȝ & brent, vpon boþe halue,

& ruȝe knokled knarreȝ, with knorned stoneȝ;

Þe skweȝ of þe scowtes skayued¹ hym þoȝt.

Þenne he houed, & wyth-hylde his hors at þat tyde,

& ofte chaunged his cher, þe chapel to seche;

He seȝ non suche in no syde, & selly hym þoȝt,

Sone a lyttel on a launde, a lawe as hit we[re];

A balȝ berȝ, bi a bonke, þe brymme by-syde,

Bi a forȝ of a flode, þat ferked þare;

Þe borne blubred þer-inne, as hit boyled hade.

Þe knyȝt kacheȝ his caple, & com to þe lawe,

Liȝteȝ doun luflyly, & at a lynde tacheȝ

Þe rayne, & his riche, with a roȝe braunche;

Þen[n]e he boȝeȝ to þe berȝe, aboute hit he walke,

D[e]batande with hym-self, quat hit be myȝt.

Hit hade a hole on þe ende, & on ayþer syde,

& ouer-growen with gresse in glodes ay where,

& al watȝ holȝ in-with, nobot an olde caue,

Or a creuisse of an olde cragge, he couþe hit noȝt deme

with spelle,

"We,² lorde," quod þe gentyle knyȝt,

"Wheþer þis be þe grene chapelle;

He myȝt aboute myd-nyȝt,

[Þ]e dele his matynnes telle!"

"Now i-wysse," quod Wowayn, "wysty is here;

Þis oritore is vgly, with erbeȝ ouer-growen;

Wel bisemeȝ þe wyȝe wruxled in grene

Dele here his deuocioun, on þe deueleȝ wyse;

Now I fele hit is þe fende, in my fyue wytteȝ,

Þat hatȝ stoken me þis steuen, to strye me here;

Þis is a chapel of meschaunce, þat chekke hit by-tyde,

Hit is þe corsedest kyrk, þat euer i com inne!"

With heȝe helme on his hede, his launce in his honde,

He romeȝ vp to þe rokke of þo roȝ woneȝ;

Þene herde he of þat hyȝe hil, in a harde roche,

Biȝonde þe broke, in a bonk, a wonder breme noyse,

Quat! hit clatered in þe clyff, as hit cleue schulde,

As one vpon a gryndelston hade grounden a syþe;

What! hit wharred, & whette, as water at a mulne,

What! hit rusched, & ronge, rawþe to here.

Þenne "bi Godde," quod Gawayn, "þat gere as¹ I trowe,

Is ryched at þe reuerence, me renk to mete,

bi rote;

Let God worche we loo,

Hit helppeȝ me not a mote,

My lif þaȝ I for-goo,

Drede dotȝ me no lote."

Thenne þe knyȝt con calle ful hyȝe,

"Who stiȝtleȝ in þis sted, me steuen to holde?

For now is gode Gawayn goande ryȝt here,

If any wyȝe oȝt wyl wynne hider fast,

Oþer now, oþer neuer, his nedeȝ to spede."

"Abyde," quod on on þe bonke, abouen ouer his hede,

"& þou schal haf al in hast, þat I þe hyȝt ones."

Ȝet he rusched on þat rurde, rapely a þrowe,

& wyth quettyng a-wharf, er he wolde lyȝt;

& syþen he keuereȝ bi a cragge, & comeȝ of a hole,

Whyrlande out of a wro, wyth a felle weppen,

A deneȝ ax nwe dyȝt, þe dynt with [t]o ȝelde

With a borelych bytte, bende by þe halme,

Fyled in a fylor, fowre fote large,

Hit watȝ no lasse, bi þat lace þat lemed ful bryȝt.

& þe gome in þe erene gered as fyrst,

Boþe þe lyre & þe leggeȝ, lokkeȝ, & berde,

Saue þat fayre on his fote he foundeȝ on þe erþe,

Sette þe stele to þe stone, & stalked bysyde.

When he wan to þe watter, þer he wade nolde,

He hypped ouer on hys ax, & orpedly strydeȝ,

Bremly broþe on a bent, þat brode watȝ a-boute,

on snawe.

Sir Gawayn þe knyȝt con mete.

He ne lutte hym no þyng lowe,

Þat oþer sayde, "now, sir swete,

Of steuen mon may þe trowe."

"Gawayn," quod þat grene gome, "God þe mot loke!

I-wysse þou art welcom,¹ wyȝe, to my place,

& þou hatȝ tymed þi trauayl as true² mon schulde;

& þou knoweȝ þe couenaunteȝ kest vus by-twene,

At þis tyme twelmonyth þou toke þat þe falled,

& I schulde at þis nwe ȝere ȝeply þe quyte.

& we ar in þis valay, verayly oure one,

Here ar no renkes vs to rydde, rele as vus likeȝ;

Haf þy³ helme of þy hede, & haf here þy pay;

Busk no more debate þen I þe bede þenne,

"When þou wypped of my hede at a wap one."

"Nay, bi God," quod Gawayn, "þat me gost lante,

I schal gruch þe no grwe, for grem þat falleȝ;

Botstyȝtel þe vpon on strok, & I schal stonde stylle,

& warp þe no wernyng, to worch as þe lykeȝ,

no whare."

He lened with þe nek, & lutte,

& schewed þat schyre al bare,

& lette as he noȝt dutte,

For drede he wolde not dare.

Then þe gome in þe grene grayþed hym swyþe,

Gedereȝ yp hys grymme tole, Gawayn to smyte;

With alle þe bur in his body he ber hit on lofte,

Munt as maȝtyly, as marre hym he wolde;

Hade hit dryuen adoun, as dreȝ as he atled,

Þer hade ben ded of his dynt, þat doȝty watȝ euer.

Bot Gawayn on þat giserne glyfte hym bysyde,

As hit com glydande adoun, on glode hym to schende,

& schranke a lytel with þe schulderes, for þe scharp yrne.

Þat oþer schalk wyth a schunt þe schene wythhaldeȝ,

& þenne repreued he þe prynce with mony prowde wordeȝ:

"Þou art not Gawayn," quod þe gome, "þat is so goud halden,

Þat neuer arȝed for no here, by hylle ne be vale,

& now þou fles for ferde, er þou fele harmeȝ;

Such cowardise of þat knyȝt cowþe I neuer here.

Nawþer fyked I, ne flaȝe, freke, quen þou myntest,

Ne kest no kauelacion, in kyngeȝ hous Arthor,

My hede flaȝ to my fote, & ȝet flaȝ I neuer;

& þou, er any harme hent, arȝeȝ in hert,

Wherfore þe better burne me burde be called

þer-fore."

Quod G:, "I schunt oneȝ,

& so wyl I no more,

Bot paȝ my hede falle on þe stoneȝ,

I con not hit restore.

Bot busk, burne, bi þi fayth, & bryng me to þe poynt,

Dele to me my destiné, & do hit out of honde,

For I schal stonde þe a strok, & start no more,

Til þyn ax haue me hitte, haf here my trawþe."

"Haf at þe þenne," quod þat oþer, & heueȝ hit alofte,

& wayteȝ as wroþely, as he wode were;

He mynteȝ at hym maȝtyly, bot not þe mon ryueȝ,¹

With-helde heterly h[i]s honde, er hit hurt myȝt.

Gawayn grayþely hit bydeȝ, & glent with no membre,

Bot stode stylle as þe ston, oþer a stubbe auþer,

Þat raþeled is in roche grounde, with roteȝ a hundreth.

Þen muryly efte con he mele, þe mon in þe grene,

"So now þou hatȝ þi hert holle, hitte me bihou[e]s;

Halde þe now þe hyȝe hode, þat Arþur þe raȝt,

& kepe þy kanel at þis kest, ȝif hit keuer may."

G: ful gryndelly with greme þenne sayde,

"Wy þresch on, þou þro mon, þou þreteȝ to longe,

I hope þat þi hert arȝe wyth þyn awen seluen."

"For soþe," quod þat oþer freke, "so felly þou spekeȝ,

I wyl no lenger on lyte lette þin ernde,

riȝt nowe."

Þenne tas he² hym stryþe to stryke,

& frounses boþe lyppe & browe,

No meruayle þaȝ hym myslyke,

Þat hoped of no rescowe.

He lyftes lyȝtly his lome, & let hit doun fayre,

With þe barbe of þe bitte bi þe bare nek

Þaȝ he homered heterly, hurt hym no more,

Bot snyrt hym on þat on syde, þat seuered þe hyde;

Þe scharp schrank to þe flesche þurȝ þe schyre grece,

Þat þe schene blod over his schulderes schot to þe erþe.

& quen þe burne seȝ þe blode blenk on þe snawe,

He sprit forth spenne fote more þen a spere lenþe,

Hent heterly his helme, & on his hed cast,

Schot with his schuldereȝ his fayre schelde vnder,

Braydeȝ out a bryȝt sworde, & bremely he spekeȝ;

Neuer syn þat he watȝ burne borne of his moder,

Watȝ he neuer in þis worlde, wyȝe half so blyþe:—

"Blynne, burne, of þy bur, bede me no mo;

I haf a stroke in þis sted with-oute stryf hent,

& if þow recheȝ me any mo, I redyly schal quyte,

& ȝelde ȝederly aȝayn, & þer to ȝe tryst,

& foo;

Bot on stroke here me falleȝ,

Þe couenaunt schop ryȝt so,

[Sikered]¹ in Arþureȝ halleȝ,

& þer-fore, hende, now hoo!"

The haþel heldet hym fro, & on his ax rested,

Sette þe schaft vpon schore, & to be scharp lened,

& loked to þe leude, þat on þe launde ȝede,

How þat doȝty dredles deruely þer stondeȝ,

Armed ful aȝleȝ; in hert hit hym lykeȝ.

þenn he meleȝ muryly, wyth a much steuen,

& wyth a r[a]ykande rurde he to þe renk sayde,

"Bolde burne, on þis bent be not so gryndel;

No mon here vn-manerly þe mys-boden habbe,

Ne kyd, bot as couenaunde, at kyngeȝ kort schaped;

I hyȝt þe a strok, & þou hit hatȝ, halde þe wel payed,

I relece þe of þe remnaunt, of ryȝtes alle oþer;

Ȝif¹ I deliuer had bene, a boffet, paraunter,

I couþe wroþeloker haf waret, [&] to þe haf wroȝt anger.²

Fyrst I mansed þe muryly, with a mynt one,

& roue þe wyth no rof, sore with ryȝt I þe profered,

For þe forwarde that we fest in þe fyrst nyȝt,

& þou trystyly þe trawþe & trwly me haldeȝ,

Al þe gayne þow me gef, as god mon shulde;

Þat oþer munt for þe morne, mon, I þe profered,

Þou kyssedes my clere wyf, þe cosseȝ me raȝteȝ,

For boþe two here I þe bede bot two bare myntes,

boute scaþe;

Trwe mon trwe restore,

Þenne þar mon drede no waþe;

At þe þrid þou fayled þore,

& þer-for þat tappe ta þe.

For hit is my wede þat þou wereȝ, þat ilke wouen girdel,

Myn owen wyf hit þe weued, I wot wel forsoþe;

Now know I wel þy cosses, & þy costes als,

& þe wowyng of my wyf, I wroȝt hit myseluen;

I sende hir to asay þe, & sothly me þynkkeȝ,

On þe fautlest freke, þat euer on fote ȝede;

As perle bi þe quite pese is of prys more,

So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi oþer gay knyȝteȝ.

Bot here you lakked a lyttel, sir, & lewte yow wonted,

Bot þat watȝ for no wylyde werke, ne wowyng nauþer,

Bot for ȝe lufed your lyf, þe lasse I yow blame."

Þat oþer stif mon in study stod a gret whyle;

So agreued for greme he gryed with-inne,

Alle þe blode of his brest blende in his face,

Þat al he schrank for schome, þat þe schalk talked.

Þe forme worde vpon folde, þat þe freke meled,—

"Corsed worth cowarddyse & couetyse boþe!

In yow is vylany & vyse, þat vertue disstryeȝ."

Þenne he kaȝt to þe knot, & þe kest lawseȝ,

Brayde broþely þe belt to þe burne seluen:

"Lo! þer þe falssyng, foule mot hit falle!

For care of þy knokke cowardyse me taȝt

To a-corde me with couetyse, my kynde to for-sake,

Þat is larges & lewte, þat longeȝ to knyȝteȝ.

Now am I fawty, & falce, & ferde haf ben euer;

Of trecherye & vn-trawþe boþe bityde sorȝe

& care!

I bi-knowe yow, knyȝt, here stylle,

Al fawty is my fare,

Leteȝ me ouer-take your wylle,

& efle I schal be ware."

Thenne loȝe þat oþer leude, & luflyly sayde,

"I halde hit hardily¹ hole, þe harme þat I hade;

Þou art confessed so clene, be-knowen of þy mysses,

& hatȝ þe penaunce apert, of þe poynt of myn egge,

I halde þe polysed of þat plyȝt, & pured as clene,

As þou hadeȝ neuer forfeted, syþen þou watȝ fyrst borne.

& I gif þe, sir, þe gurdel þat is golde hemmed;

For hit is grene as my goune, sir G:, ȝe maye

Þenk vpon þis ilke þrepe, þer þou forth þryngeȝ

Among prynces of prys, & þis a pure token

Of þe chaunce of þe grene chapel, at cheualrous knyȝteȝ;

& ȝe schal in þis nwe ȝer aȝayn to my woneȝ,

& we schyn reuel þe remnaunt of þis ryche fest,

ful bene."

Þer laþed hym fast þe lorde,

& sayde, "with my wyf, I wene,

We schal yow wel acorde,

Þat watȝ your enmy kene."

"Nay, for soþe," quod þe segge, & sesed hys helme,

& hatȝ hit of hendely, & þe haþel þonkkeȝ,

"I haf soiorned sadly, sele yow bytyde,

& he ȝelde hit yow ȝare, þat ȝarkkeȝ al menskes!

& comaundeȝ me to þat cortays, your comlych fere,

Boþe þat on & þat oþer, myn honoured ladyeȝ.

Þat þus hor knyȝt wyth hor kest han koyntly bigyled.

Bot hit is no ferly, þaȝ a fole madde,

& þurȝ wyles of wymmen be wonen to sorȝe;

For so watȝ Adam in erde with one bygyled,

& Salamon with fele sere, & Samson eft soneȝ,

Dalyda dalt hym hys wyrde, & Dauyth þer-after

Watȝ blended with Barsabe, þat much bale þoled.

Now þese were wrathed wyth her wyles, hit were a wynne huge,

To luf hom wel, & leue hem not, a leude þat couþe,

For þes wer forne¹ þe freest þat folȝed alle þe sele,

Ex-ellently of alle þyse oþer, vnder heuen-ryche,

þat mused;

& alle þay were bi-wyled,

With² wymmen þat þay vsed,

Þaȝ I be now bigyled,

Me þink me burde be excused."

"Bot your gordel," quod G: "God yow for-ȝelde!

Þat wyl I welde wyth good wylle, not for þe wynne golde,

Ne þe saynt, ne þe sylk, ne þe syde pendaundes,

For wele, ne for worchyp, ne for þe wlonk werkkeȝ,

Bot in syngne of my surfet I schal se hit ofte;

When I ride in renoun, remorde to myseluen

Þe faut & þe fayntyse of þe flesche crabbed,

How tender hit is to entyse teches of fylþe;

& þus, quen pryde schal me pryk, for prowes of armes,

Þe loke to þis luf lace schal leþe my hert.

Bot on I wolde yow pray, displeses yow neuer;

Syn ȝe be lorde of þe ȝonde[r] londe, þer I haf lent inne,

Wyth yow wyth worschyp,—þe wyȝe hit yow ȝelde

Þat vp-haldeȝ þe heuen, & on hyȝ sitteȝ,—

How norne ȝe yowre ryȝt nome, & þenne no more?"

"Þat schal I telle þe trwly," quod þat oþer þenne,

"Bernlak de Hautdesert I hat in þis londe,

Þurȝ myȝt of Morgne la Faye, þat in my hous lenges,

&¹ koyntyse of clergye, bi craftes wel lerned,

Þe maystres of Merlyn, mony ho² taken;

For ho hatȝ dalt drwry ful dere sum tyme,

With þat conable klerk, þat knowes alle your knyȝteȝ

at hame;

Morgne þe goddes,

Þer-fore hit is hir name;

Weldeȝ non so hyȝe hawtesse,

Þat ho ne con make ful tame.

Ho wayned me vpon þis wyse to your wynne halle,

For to assay þe surquidre, ȝif hit soth were,

Þat rennes of þe grete renoun of þe Rounde Table;

Ho wayned me þis wonder, your wytteȝ to reue,

For to haf greued Gaynour, & gart hir to dyȝe.

With gopnyng¹ of þat ilke gomen, þat gostlych speked,

With his hede in his honde, bifore þe hyȝe table.

Þat is ho þat is at home, þe auncian lady;

Ho is euen þyn aunt, Arþureȝ half suster,

Þe duches doȝter of Tyntagelle, þat dere Vter after

Hade Arþur vpon, þat aþel is nowþe.

Þerfore I eþe þe, haþel, to com to þy naunt,

Make myry in my hous, my meny þe louies,

& I wol þe as wel, wyȝe, bi my faythe,

As any gome vnder God, for þy grete trauþe."

& he nikked hym naye, he nolde bi no wayes;

Þay acolen & kyssen, [bikennen] ayþer oþer

To þe prynce of paradise, & parten ryȝt þere,

on coolde;

Gawayn on blonk ful bene,

To þe kyngeȝ burȝ buskeȝ bolde,

& þe knyȝt in þe enker grene,

Whider-warde so euer he wolde.

Wylde wayeȝ in þe worlde Wowen now rydeȝ,

On Gryngolet, þat þe grace hade geten of his lyue;

Ofte he herbered in house, & ofte al þeroute,

& mony a-venture in vale, & venquyst ofte,

Þat I ne tyȝt, at þis tyme, in tale to remene.

Þe hurt watȝ hole, þat he hade hent in his nek,

& þe blykkande belt he bere þeraboute,

A belef as a bauderyk, bounden bi his syde,

Loken vnder his lyfte arme, þe lace, with a knot,

In tokenyng he watȝ tane in tech of a faute;

& þus he commes to þe court, knyȝt al in sounde.

Þer wakned wele in þat wone, when wyst þe grete,

Þat gode G: watȝ commen, gayn hit hym þoȝt;

Þe kyng kysseȝ þe knyȝt, & þe whene alce,

& syþen mony syker knyȝt, þat soȝt hym to haylce,

Of his fare þat hym frayned, & ferlyly he telles;

Biknowoȝ alle þe costes of care þat he hade,—

Þe chaunce of þe chapel, þe chere of þe knyȝt,

Þe luf of þe ladi, þe lace at þe last.

Þe nirt in þe nek he naked hem schewed,

Þat he laȝt for his vnleute at þe leudes hondes,

for blame;

He tened quen he schulde telle,

He groned for gref & grame;

Þe blod in his face con melle,

When he hit schulde schewe, for schame.

"Lo! lorde," quod þe leude, & þe lace hondeled,

"Þis is þe bende of þis blame I bere [in] my nek,

Þis is þe laþe & þe losse, þat I laȝt haue,

Of couardise & couetyse, þat I haf caȝt þare,

Þis is þe token of vn-trawþe, þat I am tan inne,

& I mot nedeȝ hit were, wyle I may last;

For non may hyden his harme, bot vnhap ne may hit,

For þer hit oneȝ is tachched, twynne wil hit neuer."

Þe kyng comforteȝ þe knyȝt, & alle þe court als,

Laȝen loude þer-at, & luflyly acorden,

Þat lordes & ladis, þat longed to þe Table,

Vche burne of þe broþer-hede a bauderyk schulde haue,

A bende, a belef hym aboute, of a bryȝt grene,

& þat, for sake of þat segge, in swete to were.

For þat watȝ acorded þe renoun of þe Rounde Table,

& he honoured þat hit hade, euer-more after,

As hit is breued in þe best boke of romaunce.

Þus in Arthurus day þis aunter bitidde,

Þe Brutus bokees þer-of beres wyttenesse;

Syþen Brutus, þe bolde burne, boȝed hider fyrst,

After þe segge & þe asaute watȝ sesed at Troye,

I-wysse;

Mony auntereȝ here bi-forne,

Haf fallen suche er þis:

Now þat bere þe croun of þorne,

He bryng vus to his blysse! AMEN.