For þe hede in his honde he halde3 vp euen,

To-ward þe derrest on þe dece he dresse3 þe face,

& hit lyfte vp þe y3e-lydde3, & loked ful brode,

& meled þus much with his muthe, as 3e may now here.

"Loke, Gawan, þou be grayþe to go as þou hette3,

& layte as lelly til þou me, lude, fynde,

As þou hat3 hette in þis halle, herande þise kny3tes;

To þe grene chapel þou chose, I charge þe to fotte,

Such a dunt as þou hat3 dalt disserued þou habbe3,

To be 3ederly 3olden on nw 3eres morn;

Þe kny3t of þe grene chapel men knowen me mony;

For-þi me forto fynde if þou frayste3, fayle3 þou neuer,

Þer-fore com, oþer recreaunt be calde þe be-houeus."

With a runisch rout þe rayne3 he torne3,

Halled out at þe hal-dor, his hed in his hande,

Þat þe fyr of þe flynt fla3e fro fole houes.

To quat kyth he be-com, knwe non þere,

Neuermore þen þay wyste fram queþen he wat3 wonnen;

what þenne?

Þe kyng & Gawen þare,

At þat grene þay la3e & grenne,

3et breued wat3 hit ful bare,

A meruayl among þo menne.

Þa3 Arþer þe hende kyng at hert hade wonder,

He let no semblaunt be sene, bot sayde ful hy3e

To þe comlych quene, wyth cortays speche,

"Dere dame, to day demay yow neuer;

Wel by-commes such craft vpon cristmasse,

Laykyng of enterlude3, to la3e & to syng.

Among þise, kynde caroles of kny3te3 & ladye3;

Neuer-þe-lece to my mete I may me wel dres,

For I haf sen a selly, I may not for-sake."

He glent vpon sir Gawen, & gaynly he sayde,

"Now sir, heng vp þyn ax, þat hat3 in-nogh hewen."

& hit wat3 don abof þe dece, on doser to henge,

Þer alle men for meruayl my3t on hit loke,

& bi trwe tytel þer-of to telle þe wonder.

Þenne þay bo3ed to a borde þise burnes to-geder,

Þe kyng & þe gode kny3t, & kene men hem serued

Of alle dayntye3 double, as derrest my3t falle,

Wyth alle maner of mete & mynstralcie boþe;

Wyth wele walt þay þat day, til worþed an ende,

in londe.

Now þenk wel, sir Gawan,

For woþe þat þou ne wonde,

Þis auenture forto frayn,

Þat þou hat3 tan on honde.

This hanselle hat3 Arthur of auenturus on fyrst,

In 3onge 3er, for he 3erned 3elpyng to here,

Tha3 hym worde3 were wane, when þay to sete wenten;

Now ar þay stoken of sturne werk staf-ful her hond.

Gawan wat3 glad to be-gynne þose gomne3 in halle,

Bot þa3 þe ende be heuy, haf 3e no wonder;

For þa3 men ben mery in mynde, quen þay han mayn drynk,

A 3ere 3ernes ful 3erne, & 3elde3 neuer lyke,

Þe forme to þe fynisment folde3 ful selden.

For-þi þis 3ol ouer-3ede, & þe 3ere after,

& vche sesoun serlepes sued after oþer;

After crysten-masse com þe crabbed lentoun,

Þat frayste3 flesch wyth þe fysche & fode more symple

Bot þenne þe weder of þe worlde wyth wynter hit þrepe3,

Colde clenge3 adoun, cloude3 vp-lyften,

Schyre schede3 þe rayn in schowre3 ful warme,

Falle3 vpon fayre flat, flowre3 þere schewen,

Boþe grounde3 & þe greue3 grene ar her wede3,

Brydde3 busken to bylde, & bremlych syngen,

For solace of þe softe somer þat sues þer after,

bi bonk;

& blossume3 bolne to blowe,

Bi rawe3 rych & ronk,

Þen note3 noble in-no3e,

Ar herde in wod so wlonk.

After þe sesoun of somer wyth þe soft wynde3,

Quen 3eferus syfle3 hym-self on sede3 & erbe3,

Wela-wynne is þe wort þat woxes þer-oute.

When þe donkande dewe drope3 of þe leue3,

To bide a blysful blusch of þe bry3t sunne.

Bot þen hy3es heruest, & hardenes hym sone.

Warne3 hym for þe wynter to wax ful rype;

He dryues wyth dro3t þe dust for to ryse.

Fro þe face of þe folde to fly3e ful hy3e;

Wroþe wynde of þe welkyn wrastele3 with þe sunne,

Þe leue3 lancen fro þe lynde, & ly3ten on þe grounde,

& al grayes þe gres, þat grene wat3 ere;

Þenne al rype3 & rote3 þat ros vpon fyrst,

& þus 3irne3 þe 3ere in 3isterdaye3 mony,

& wynter wynde3 a3ayn, as þe worlde aske3

no sage.

Til me3el-mas mone,

Wat3 cumen wyth wynter wage;

Þen þenkke3 Gawan ful sone,

Of his anious uyage.

3et quyl al-hal-day with Arþer he lenges,

& he made a fare on þat fest, for þe freke3 sake,

With much reuel & ryche of þe rounde table;

Kny3te3 ful cortays & comlych ladies,

Al for luf of þat lede in longynge þay were,

Bot neuer-þe-lece ne þe later þay neuened bot merþe,

Mony ioyle3 for þat ientyle iape3 þer maden.

For aftter mete, with mournyng he mele3 to his eme,

& speke3 of his passage, & pertly he sayde,

"Now, lege lorde of my lyf, leue I yow ask;

3e knowe þe cost of þis cace, kepe I no more

To telle yow tene3 þer-of neuer bot trifel;

Bot I am boun to þe bur barely to morne,

To sech þe gome of þe grene, as god wyl me wysse."

Þenne þe best of þe bur3 bo3ed to-geder,

Aywan, & Errik, & oþer ful mony,

Sir Doddinaual de Sauage, þe duk of Clarence,

Launcelot, & Lyonel, & Lucan þe gode,

Sir Boos, & sir Byduer, big men boþe,

& mony oþer menskful, with Mador de la Port.

Alle þis compayny of court com þe kyng nerre,

For to counseyl þe kny3t, with care at her hert;

Þere wat3 much derue¹ doel driuen in þe sale,

Þat so worthe as Wawan schulde wende on þat ernde,

To dry3e a delful dynt, & dele no more

wyth bronde.

Þe kny3t mad ay god chere,

& sayde, "quat schuld I wonde,

Of destines derf & dere,

What may mon do bot fonde?"

He dowelle3 þer al þat day, and dresse3 on þe morn,

Aske3 erly hys arme3, & alle were þay bro3t

Fyrst a tule tapit, ty3t ouer þe flet,

& miche wat3 þe gyld gere þat glent þer alofte;

Þe stif mon steppe3 þeron, & þe stel hondole3,

Dubbed in a dublet of a dere tars,

& syþen a crafty capados, closed aloft,

Þat wyth a bry3t blaunner was bounden with-inne;

Þenne set þay þe sabatoun3 vpon þe segge fote3,

His lege3 lapped in stel with luflych greue3,

With polayne3 piched þer-to, policed ful clene,

Aboute his kne3 knaged wyth knote3 of golde;

Queme quyssewes þen, þat coyntlych closed

His thik þrawen þy3e3 with þwonges to-tachched;

& syþen þe brawden bryne of bry3t stel rynge3,

Vmbe-weued þat wy3, vpon wlonk stuffe;

& wel bornyst brace vpon his boþe armes,

With gode cowters & gay, & gloue3 of plate,

& alle þe godlych gere þat hym gayn schulde

Þat tyde;

Wyth ryche cote armure,

His gold spore3 spend with pryde,

Gurde wyth a bront ful sure,

With silk sayn vmbe his syde.

When he wat3 hasped in armes, his harnays wat3 ryche,

Þe lest lachet ou[þ]er loupe lemed of golde;

So harnayst as he wat3 he herkne3 his masse,

Offred & honoured at þe he3e auter;

Syþen he come3 to þe kyng & to his cort fere3,

Lache3 lufly his leue at lorde3 & ladye3;

& þay hym kyst & conueyed, bikende hym to kryst.

Bi þat wat3 Gryngolet grayth, & gurde with a sadel,

Þat glemed ful gayly with mony golde frenges,

Ay quere naylet ful nwe for þat note ryched;

Þe brydel barred aboute, with bry3t golde bounden;

Þe apparayl of þe payttrure, & of þe proude skyrte3,

Þe cropore, & þe couertor, acorded wyth þe arsoune3;

& al wat3 rayled on red ryche golde nayle3,

Þat al glytered & glent as glem of þe sunne.

Þenne hentes he þe holme, & hastily hit kysses,

Þat wat3 stapled stifly, & stoffed wyth-inne:

Hit wat3 hy3e on his hede, hasped bihynde,

Wyth a ly3tli vrysoun ouer þe auentayle,

Enbrawden & bounden wyth þe best gemme3,

On brode sylkyn borde, & brydde3 on seme3,

As papiaye3 paynted pernyng bitwene,

Tortors & trulofe3 entayled so þyk,

As mony burde þer aboute had ben seuen wynter

in toune;

Þe cercle wat3 more o prys,

Þat vmbe-clypped hys croun,

Of diamaunte3 a deuys,

Þat boþe were bry3t & broun.

Then þay schewed hym þe schelde, þat was of schyr goule3,

Wyth þe pentangel de-paynt of pure golde hwe3;

He brayde3 hit by þe baude-ryk, aboute þe hals kestes,

Þat bisemed þe segge semlyly fayre.

& quy þe pentangel apende3 to þat prynce noble,

I am in tent yow to telle, þof tary hyt me schulde;

Hit is a syngne þat Salamon set sum-quyle,

In bytoknyng of trawþe, bi tytle þat hit habbe3,

For hit is a figure þat halde3 fyue poynte3,

& vche lyne vmbe-lappe3 & louke3 in oþer,

& ay quere hit is endele3,¹ & Englych hit callen

Ouer-al, as I here, þe endeles knot.

For-þy hit acorde3 to þis kny3t, & to his cler arme3,

For ay faythful in fyue & sere fyue syþe3,

Gawan wat3 for gode knawen, & as golde pured,

Voyded of vche vylany, wyth vertue3² ennourned

in mote;

For-þy þe pen-tangel nwe

He ber in schelde & cote,

As tulk of tale most trwe,

& gentylest kny3t of lote.

Fyrst he wat3 funden fautle3 in his fyue wytte3,

& efte fayled neuer þe freke in his fyue fyngres,

& alle his afyaunce vpon folde wat3 in þe fyue wounde3

Þat Cryst ka3t on þe croys, as þe crede telle3;

& quere-so-euer þys mon in melly wat3 stad,

His þro þo3t wat3 in þat, þur3 alle oþer þynge3,

Þat alle his forsnes he fong at þe fyue ioye3,

Þat þe hende heuen quene had of hir chylde;

At þis cause þe kny3t comlyche hade

In þe more half of his schelde hir ymage depaynted,

Þat quen he blusched þerto, his belde neuer payred.

Þe fyrst¹ fyue þat I finde þat þe frek vsed,

Wat3 fraunchyse, & fela3schyp for-be² al þyng;

His clannes & his cortaysye croked were neuer,

& pite, þat passe3 alle poynte3, þyse pure fyue

Were harder happed on þat haþel þen on any oþer.

Now alle þese fyue syþe3, forsoþe, were fetled on þis kny3t,

& vchone halched in oþer, þat non ende hade,

& fyched vpon fyue poynte3, þat fayld neuer,

Ne samned neuer in no syde, ne sundred nouþ[er],

With-outen ende at any noke [a]i quere fynde,

Where-euer þe gomen bygan, or glod to an ende.

Þer-fore on his schene schelde schapen wat3 þe knot,

Þus alle wyth red golde vpon rede gowle3,

Þat is þe pure pentaungel wyth þe peple called,

with lore.

Now grayþed is Gawan gay,

& la3t his launce ry3t þore,

& gef hem alle goud day,

He wende for euer more.

He sperred þe sted with þe spure3, & sprong on his way,

So stif þat þe ston fyr stroke out þer-after;

Al þat se3 þat semly syked in hert,

& sayde soþly al same segges til oþer,

Carande for þat comly, "bi Kryst, hit is scaþe,

Þat þou, leude, schal be lost, þat art of lyf noble!

To fynde hys fere vpon folde, in fayth is not eþe;

Warloker to haf wro3t had more wyt bene,

& haf dy3t 3onder dere a duk to haue worþed;

A lowande leder of lede3 in londe hym wel seme3,

& so had better haf ben þen britned to no3t,

Hadet wyth an aluisch mon, for angarde3 pryde.

Who knew euer any kyng such counsel to take,

As kny3te3 in caueloun3 on cryst-masse gomne3!"

Wel much wat3 þe warme water þat waltered of y3en,

When þat semly syre so3t fro þo wone3

þat¹ daye;

He made non abode,

Bot wy3tly went hys way,

Mony wylsum way he rode,

Þe bok as I herde say.

Now ride3 þis renk þur3 þe ryalme of Logres,

Sir Gauan on Gode3 halue, þa3 hym no gomen þo3t;

Oft, leudle3 alone, he lenge3 on ny3te3,

Þer he fonde no3t hym byfore þe fare þat he lyked;

Hade he no fere bot his fole, bi frythe3 & doune3,

Ne no gome bot God, bi gate wyth to karp,

Til þat he ne3ed ful noghe¹ in to þe Norþe Wale3;

Alle þe iles of Anglesay on lyft half he halde3,

& fare3 ouer þe forde3 by þe for-londe3,

Ouer at þe Holy-Hede, til he hade eft bonk

In þe wyldrenesse of Wyrale; wonde þer bot lyte

Þat auþer God oþer gome wyth goud hert louied.

& ay he frayned, as he ferde, at freke3 þat he met,

If þay hade herde any karp of a kny3t grene,

In any grounde þer-aboute, of þe grene chapel;²

& al nykked hym wyth nay, þat neuer in her lyue

Þay se3e neuer no segge þat wat3 of suche hwe3

of grene.

Þe kny3t tok gates straunge,

In mony a bonk vnbene,

His cher ful oft con chaunge,

Þat chapel er he my3t sene.

Mony klyf he ouer-clambe in contraye3 straunge,

Fer floten fro his frende3 fremedly he ryde3;

At vche warþe oþer water þer þe wy3e passed,

He fonde a foo hym byfore, bot ferly hit were,

& þat so foule & so felle, þat fe3t hym by-hode;

So mony meruayl hi mount þer þe mon fynde3,

Hit were to tore for to telle of þe tenþe dole.

Sumwhyle wyth worme3 he werre3, & with wolues als,

Sumwhyle wyth wodwos, þat woned in þe knarre3,

Boþe wyth bulle3 & bere3, & bore3 oþer-quyle,

& etayne3, þat hym a-nelede, of þe he3e felle;

Nade he ben du3ty & dry3e, & dry3tyn had serued,

Douteles he hade ben ded, & dreped ful ofte.

For werre wrathed hym not so much, þat wynter was wors,

When þe colde cler water fro þe cloude3 schadden,

& fres er hit falle my3t to þe fale erþe;

Ner slayn wyth þe slete he sleped in his yrnes,

Mo ny3te3 þen in-noghe in naked rokke3,

Þer as claterande fro þe crest þe colde borne renne3,

& henged he3e ouer his hede in hard ÿsse-ikkles.

Þus in peryl, & payne, & plytes ful harde,

Bi contray carye3 þis kny3t, tyl kryst-masse euen,

al one;

Þe kny3t wel þat tyde,

To Mary made his mone.

Þat ho hym red to ryde,

& wysse hym to sum wone.

Bi a mounte on þe morne meryly he rydes,

Into a forest ful dep, þat ferly wat3 wylde,

Hi3e hille3 on vche a halue, & holt wode3 vnder,

Of hore oke3 fill hoge a hundreth to-geder;

Þe hasel & þe ha3-þorne were harled al samen,

With ro3e raged mosse rayled ay-where,

With mony brydde3 vnblyþe vpon bare twyges,

Þat pitosly þer piped for pyne of þe colde.

Þe gome vpon Gryngolet glyde3 hem vnder,

Þur3 mony misy & myre, mon al hym one,

Carande for his costes, lest he ne keuer schulde,

To se þe seruy¹ of þat syre, þat on þat self ny3t

Of a burde wat3 borne, oure baret to quelle;

& þerfore sykyng he sayde, "I be-seche þe, lorde,

& Mary, þat is myldest moder so dere.

Of sum herber, þer he3ly I my3t here masse.

Ande þy matyne3 to-morne, mekely I ask,

& þer-to prestly I pray my pater & aue,

& crede."

He rode in his prayere,

& cryed for his mysdede,

He sayned hym in syþes sere,

& sayde "cros Kryst me spede!"

Nade he sayned hym-self, segge, bot þrye,

Er he wat3 war in þe wod of a won in a mote.

Abof a launde, on a lawe, loken vnder bo3e3,

Of mony borelych bole, aboute bi þe diches;

A castel þe comlokest þat euer kny3t a3te,

Pyched on a prayere, a park al aboute,

With a pyked palays, pyned ful þik,

Þat vmbe-te3e mony tre mo þen two myle.

Þat holde on þat on syde þe haþel auysed,

As hit schemered & schon þur3 þe schyre oke3;

Þenne hat3 he hendly of his helme, & he3ly he þonke3

Iesus & say[nt] Gilyan, þat gentyle ar boþe,

Þat cortaysly hade hym kydde, & his cry herkened.

"Now bone hostel," coþe þe burne, "I be-seche yow 3ette!"

Þenne gedere3 he to Gryngolet with þe gilt hele3,

& he ful chauncely hat3 chosen to þe chef gate,

Þat bro3t bremly þe burne to þe bryge ende,

in haste;

Þe bryge wat3 breme vp-brayde,

Þe 3ate3 wer stoken faste,

Þe walle3 were wel arayed,

Hit dut no wynde3 blaste.

Þe burne bode on bonk, þat on blonk houed,

Of þe depe double dich þat drof to þe place,

Þe walle wod in þe water wonderly depe,

Ande eft a ful huge he3t hit haled vpon lofte,

Of harde hewen ston vp to þe table3,

Enbaned vnder þe abataylment, in þe best lawe;

& syþen garyte3 ful gaye gered bi-twene,

Wyth mony luflych loupe, þat louked ful clene;

A better barbican þat burne blusched vpon neuer;

& innermore he be-helde þat halle ful hy3e,

Towre telded bytwene trochet ful þik,

Fayre fylyole3 þat fy3ed, & ferlyly long,

With coruon coprounes, craftyly sle3e;

Chalk whyt chymnees þer ches he in-no3e,

Vpon bastel roue3, þat blenked ful quyte;

So mony pynakle payntet wat3 poudred ay quere,

Among þe castel carnele3, clambred so þik,

Þat pared out of papure purely hit semed.

Þe fre freke on þe fole hit fayr in-n[o]ghe þo3t,

If he my3t keuer to com þe cloyster wyth-inne,

To herber in þat hostel, whyl halyday lested

auinant;

He calde, & sone þer com

A porter pure plesaunt,

On þe wal his ernd he nome,

& haylsed þe kny3t erraunt.

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

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

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

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

Þen 3ede þat wy3e a3ayn awyþe,

& folke frely hym wyth, to fonge þe kny3t;

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

& kneled doun on her knes vpon þe colde erþe,

To welcum þis ilk wy3, as worþy hom þo3t;

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

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

Sere segge3 hym sesed by sadel, quel² he ly3t,

& syþen stabeled his stede stif men in-no3e.

Kny3te3 & swyere3 comen doun þenne,

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

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

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

His bronde & his blasoun boþe þay token.

Þen haylsed he ful hendly þo haþele3 vch one,

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

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

Þer fayre fyre vpon flet fersly brenned.

Þenne þe lorde of þe lede loute3 fro his chambre,

For to mete wyth menske þe mon on þe flor;

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

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

& welde."

"Graunt mercy," quod Gawayn,

"Þer Kryst hit yow for-3elde,"

As freke3 þat semed fayn,

Ayþer oþer in arme3 con felde.

Gawayn gly3t on þe gome þat godly hym gret,

& þu3t hit a bolde burne þat þe bur3 a3te,

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

Brode bry3t wat3 his berde, & al beuer hwed,

Sturne stif on þe stryþþe on stal-worth schonke3,

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

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

To lede a lortschyp in lee of leude3 ful gode.

Þe lorde hym charred to a chambre, & chefly cumaunde3²

To delyuer hym a leude, hym lo3ly to serue;

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

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

Of cortynes of clene sylk, wyth cler golde hemme3,

& couertore3 ful curious, with comlych pane3,

Of bry3t blaunnier a-boue enbrawded bisyde3,

Rudele3 rennande on rope3, red golde rynge3,

Tapyte3 ty3t to þe wo3e, of tuly & tars,

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

Þer he wat3 dispoyled, wyth speche3 of myerþe,

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

Ryche robes ful rad renkke3 hem³ bro3ten,

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

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

Þat sete on hym⁴ semly, wyth saylande skyrte3,

Þe ver by his uisage verayly hit semed

Wel ne3 to vche haþel alle on hwes,

Lowande & lufly, alle his lymme3 vnder,

Þat a comloker kny3t neuer Kryst made,

hem þo3t;

Wheþen in worlde he were,

Hit semed as he my3t

Be prynce with-outen pere,

In felde þer felle men fy3t.