by: Thomas Hahn (Editor)
from: Sir Gawain: Eleven Romances and Tales 1995
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Lystonnyth, lordyngus, a lyttyll stonde
Of on that was sekor and sounde
And doughgty in his dede.
He was as meke as mayde in bour
And therto styfe in every stour;
Was non so doughtty in dede.
Dedus of armus wyttout lese
Seche he wolde in war and pees
In mony a stronge lede.
Sertaynly, wyttoutyn fabull
He was wytt Artter at the Rounde Tabull,
In romans as we reede.
His name was Syr Gawene:
Moche worschepe in Bretten he wan,
And hardy he was and wyghte.
The Yle of Brettayn icleppyde ys
Betwyn Skotlond and Ynglonde iwys,
In storry iwryte aryghte.
Wallys ys an angull of that yle;
At Cardyfe sojornde the Kynge a whylle
Wytt mony a gentyll knyghte
That wolde to Ynglonde to honte,
As grete lordys dothe and be wonte,
Wytt hardy lordys and wygghte.
Kinge Arttor to his lordis gan saye
As a lorde ryall that well maye,
"Do us to have a Masse.
Byschope Bawdewyn schall hit don;
Then to the forrest woll we gon,
All that evyr her ys,
For nowe is grece-tyme of the yeer,
That baruns bolde schulde hont the der,
And reyse hem of her reste."
Wondor glad was Syr Mewreke;
So was the knyght Sir Key Caratocke,
And other mor and lase.
Glade was Launccelet de Lacke,
So was Syr Percivall, I undortake
And Lanfalle, I wene.
So was Syr Eweyn the Uyttryan
And Syr Lot of Laudyan,
That hardy was and kene;
Syr Gaytefer and Syr Galerowne,
Syr Costantyn and Syr Raynbrown,
The Knyght of Armus Grene.
Syr Gawen was Stwarde of the halle;
He was master of hem all
And buskyde hem bedenne.
The Kyngus uncull, Syr Mordrete,
Nobull knyghttus wytt hym gan lede,
In romans as men rede.
Syr Yngeles, that genttyle knyghte,
Wytt hym he lede houndys wygght
That well coude do her dede.
Syr Lebyus Dyskonus was thare
Wytt proude men les and mare
To make the donne der blede;
Syr Pettypas of Wynchylse,
A nobull knyght of chevalré,
And stout was on a stede.
Syr Grandon and Syr Ferr Unkowthe,
Meryly they sewyde wytt mouthe,
Wytt houndys that wer wyght;
Syr Blancheles and Ironsyde,
Monny a doughty that day con ryde
On hors fayr and lyghte.
Irounsyde, as I wene,
Gat the Knyght of Armus Grene
On a lady brygght -
Sertenly, as I undurstonde,
That fayr may of Blanche Lonnde,
In bour that lovely wyghte.
Ironsyde, as I wene,
Iarmyd he wolde ryde full clene,
Wer the sonn nevyr so hoot.
In wyntter he wolde armus bere;
Gyanttus and he wer ever at were
And allway at the debate.
Favele Honde hyght ys stede.
His armys and his odir wede
Full fayr and goode hit was:
Of asur for sothe he bare
A gryffyn of golde full feyr
Iset full of golde flourrus.
He coude mor of venery and of wer
Then all the kyngus that wer ther;
Full oft asay hem he wolde.
Brennynge dragons hade he slayn,
And wylde bullus mony won
That gresely wer iholde.
Byge barrons he hade ibonde.
A hardyer knygght myght not be fonde;
Full herdy he was and bolde.
Therfor ha was callyd, as I hard say,
The Kyngus fellowe by his day,
Wytt worthy knyghttus itolde.
A lyon of golde was his creste;
He spake reyson out of reste;
Lystynn and ye may her.
Wherever he went, be est or weste,
He nold forsake man nor best
To fyght fer or ner.
Knyghttus kene fast they rane;
The Kynge followyd wytt mony a man,
Fife hunderd and moo, I wene.
Folke followyd wytt fedyrt flonus,
Nobull archarrus for the nons,
To fell the fallow der so cleyn.
Barrons gan her hornnus blowe;
The der cam reykynge on a rowe,
Bothe hert and eke heynde.
Be that tyme was pryme of the day
Fife hunderd der dede on a lond lay
Alonge undur a lynde.
Then Syr Gawen and Syr Key
And Beschope Baudewyn, as I yow say,
After a raynder they rode.
Frowe that tym was prym of the day
Tyl myde-undur-non, as I yow saye,
Never styll hit abode.
A myst gan ryse in a mor;
Barrons blowe her hornis store.
Meche mon Syr Key made:
The reyneder wolde not dwelle.
Herkon what aventer hem befelle;
Herbrow they wolde fayn have hade.
Then sayde the gentyll knyght Syr Gawen,
"All this labur ys in vayne,
For certen, trowe hit me.
The dere is passyde out of our syght;
We mete no mor wytt hym tonyght,
Hende, herkon to me.
I reede that we of our hors alyght
And byde in this woode all nyght,
And loge undur this tree."
"Ryde we hens," quod Keye anon;
"We schall have harbrowe or we gon.
Dar no man wern hit me."
Then sayd the Beschope: "I knowe hit well -
A Carle her in a castell
A lyttyll her ner honde.
The Karl of Carllyll ys his nam:
He may us herborow, be Sent Jame,
As I undurstonde.
Was ther nevyr barnn so bolde
That ever myght gaystyn in his holde
But evyll harbrowe he fonde.
He schall be bette, as I harde say,
And yefe he go wytt lyfe away
Hit wer but Goddus sonde.
"Nowe ryde we thedyr all thre."
Therto sayd Key, "I grant hit the,
Also mot I well far;
And as thou seyst, hit schall be holde.
Be the Carle never so bolde,
I count hym not worthe an har.
And yeyf he be never so stoute,
We woll hym bette all abowt
And make his beggynge bar.
Suche as he brewythe, seche schall he drenke;
He schall be bette that he schall stynke,
And agenst his wyll be thar."
Syr Gawen sayd, "So hav I blyse,
I woll not geystyn ther magre ys,
Thow I myght never so well,
Yefe anny fayr wordus may us gayn
To make the larde of us full fayn
In his oun castell.
Key, let be thy bostfull fare;
Thow gost about to warke care,
I say, so have I helle.
I woll pray the good lorde, as I yow saye,
Of herborow tyll tomorrow daye
And of met and melle."
On her way fast they rode.
At the castell yat they abode -
The portter call they schulde.
Ther hynge a hommyr by a cheyn.
To knocke therat Syr Key toke dayn;
The hommyr away he wold have pold.
The portter come wytt a prevey fare
And hem fonde he ther;
He axid what they wolde.
Then sayd Gawen curttesly,
"We beseche the lorde of herbory,
The good lord of this holde."
The portter answerd hem agayn,
"Your message wold I do full fayn;
And ye have harme, thanke hyt not me.
Ye be so fayr, lyme and lythe,
And therto comly, glad therwytt,
That cemmely hyt ys to see.
My lorde can no corttessye;
Ye schappyth notte wyttout a vellony,
Truly trow ye mee.
Me rewyth sor ye came this waye,
And ar ye go, so woll ye say,
But yefe mor grace be."
"Portter," sayde Key, "let be thy care;
Thow sest we mey no forther fare -
Thow jappyst, as I wene.
But thou wolt on our message gon,
The kyngus keyis woll we tane
And draw hem doun cleyn."
The portter sayde, "So mot I thryfe,
Ther be not thre knyghttus alyve
That dorst do hit, I wene.
Wyst my lorde your wordys grete,
Some your lyvys ye schold forlete
Or ellus full fast to flen."
The portter went into the hall;
Wytt his Lord he mett wyttall,
That hardy was and bolde.
"Carl of Carllhyll, God loke the!
At the yatt be barnnus thre,
Semley armus to welde:
To knyghttus of Arterys in,
A beschope, and no mor men,
Sertayn, as they me tolde."
Then sayd the Carle, "Be Sent Myghell,
That tythingus lykyth me ryght well.
Seyth thei this way wolde."
When they came befor that syr,
They fond four whelpus lay about his fyer,
That gresly was for to see:
A wyld bole and a fellon boor,
A lyon that wold bytte sor -
Therof they had grete ferly.
A bege ber lay louse unbounde.
Seche four whelpus ther they founde
About the Carllus kne.
They rose and came the knyghttus agayn,
And soun thei wold hem have slayn;
The Carle bade hem let bee.
"Ly doun," he sayd, "my whelpys four."
Then the lyon began to lour
And glowyd as a glede,
The ber to ramy, the boole to groun,
The bor he whett his toskos soun
Fast and that good spede.
Then sayd the Carle, "Ly style! Hard yn!"
They fell adoun for fer of hyme,
So sor they gan hyme drede.
For a word the Carle gan say
Under the tabull they crepyd away;
Therof Syr Key toke hede.
The Carle the knyghttus can beholde,
Wytt a stout vesage and a bolde.
He semyd a dredfull man:
Wytt chekus longe and vesage brade;
Cambur nose and all ful made;
Betwyne his browus a large spane;
Hys moghth moche, his berd graye;
Over his brest his lockus lay
As brod as anny fane;
Betwen his schuldors, whos ryght can rede,
He was two tayllors yardus a brede.
Syr Key merveld gretly than.
Nine taylloris yerdus he was hyghtht
And therto leggus longe and wyghtht,
Or ellus wondor hit wer.
Ther was no post in that hall,
Grettyst growand of hem all,
But his theys wer thycker.
His armus wer gret, wyttoutyn lese,
His fyngeris also, iwys,
As anny lege that we ber.
Whos stoud a stroke of his honde,
He was not wecke, I undurstond,
That dar I safly swer.
Then Syr Gawen began to cnele;
The Carle sayd he myght be knyght wylle,
And bad hyme stond upe anon.
"Lett be thy knellynge, gentyll knyght;
Thow logost wytt a carll tonyght,
I swer, by Sennt Johnn.
For her no corttessy thou schalt have,
But carllus corttessy, so God me save -
For serttus I can non."
He bad brynge wyn in gold so der;
Anon hit cam in coppus cler -
As anny sonn hit schon.
Four gallons held a cop and more;
He bad brynge forthe a grettor -
"What schall this lyttyll cope doun?
This to lyttyll a cope for me,
When I sytt by the fyr onn hy
By myself aloun.
Brynge us a gretter bolle of wynn;
Let us drenke and play syne
Tyll we to sopper goun."
The butteler brought a cope of golde -
Nine gallons hit gane holde -
And toke hit the Carle anon.
Nine gallons he hyld and mare;
He was not weke that hit bare
In his won honde.
The knyghttus dronkon fast about,
And sethe arose and went hem out
To se her hors stond.
Corne and hey thei had reydy.
A lyttyll folle stod hem bye
Wytt her hors fast ettand.
The Besschope put the fole away:
"Thow schalt not be fello wytt my palfray
Whyll I am beschope in londe."
The Carll then cam wytt a gret spede
And askyde, "Who hathe doun this dede?"
The Beschope seyd, "That was I."
"Therfor a bofett thou schalt have,
I swer, so God me save,
And hit schall be sett, wytterly."
"I ame a clarke of ordors hyghe."
"Yett cannyst thou noght of corttessyghe,
I swer, so mott I trye!"
He gafe the Besschope a boffett tho
That to the ground he gan goo;
I sonynge he gann lyghe.
Syr Key came in the sam cas
To se his stede ther he was;
The foll fond he hym by.
Out att the dor he drof hym out
And on the backe yafe hym a clout.
The Carle se that wytt hys yghe.
The Carll gaffe hym seche a boffett
That smertly onn the grond hym sett;
In sonynge gan he lyghe.
"Evyll-taught knyghttus," the Carl gan sey;
"I schall teche the or thou wend away
Sum of my corttessye."
Then they arose and went to hall,
The Beschope and Syr Key wytall,
That worthy was iwroght.
Syr Gawen axyd wer they had byne;
They seyd, "Our horssys we have sene,
And us sor forthoght."
Then ansswerd Gawen full curttesly,
"Syr, wytt your leyf then wyll I."
The Carll knewe his thought.
Hett reynnyd and blewe stormus felle
That well was hym, be bocke and belle,
That herborow hade caught.
Wyttout the stabull dor the foll gan stond.
Gawen put hyme in agayn wytt his honde;
He was all wett, I wene,
As the foll had stond in rayne.
Then keveryd he hym, Sir Gawene,
Wytt his manttell of grene:
"Stond upe, fooll, and eette thy mette;
We spend her that thy master dothe gett,
Whyll that we her byne."
The Carle stode hym fast by
And thankyd hym full curtteslye
Manny sythis, I wene.
Be that tyme her soper was redy dyght:
The tabullus wer havfe upe an hyght;
Icovert they were full tyte.
Forthwytt, thei wolde not blynne:
The Besschope gan the tabull begynne
Wytt a gret delytte.
Syr Key was sett on the tother syde
Agenst the Carllus wyfe so full of pryde,
That was so feyr and whytte:
Her armus small, her mydyll gent,
Her yghen grey, her browus bente;
Of curttessy sche was perfette.
Her roode was reede, her chekus rounde,
A feyrror myght not goo on grounde,
Ne lovelyur of syghte.
Sche was so gloryis and soo gay:
I can not rekon her araye,
Sche was so gayly dyghte.
"Alas," thought Key, "thou Lady fre,
That thou schuldyst this ipereschde be
Wytt seche a foulle weghtht!"
"Sytt styll," quod the Carl, "and eete thy mette;
Thow thinkost mor then thou darst speke,
Sertten, I the hyght."
I do yow all well to wette
Ther was noo man bade Gawen sitte,
But in the halle flor gann he stonde.
The Carle sayde, "Fellowe, anoun!
Loke my byddynge be well idoun!
Go take a sper in thy honde
And at the bottredor goo take thy passe
And hitt me evyn in the face;
Do as I the commande.
And yeyfe thou ber me agenst the wall
Thow schalt not hort me wyttalle,
Whyll I am gyaunt in londe."
Syr Gawenn was a glade mann wytt that;
At the bottredor a sper he gatte
And in his honde hit hente.
Syr Gawen came wytt a gret ire.
Doun he helde his hede, that syre,
Tyll he hade geve his dentte.
He yafe the ston wall seche a rappe
That the goode sper all tobrake;
The fyer flewe out of the flente.
The Carl sayde to hym ful soune,
"Gentyll knyght, thou hast well doune,"
And be the honde hyme hente.
A cher was fette for Syr Gawene,
That worthy knyght of Bryttayne;
Befor the Carllus wyfe was he sett.
So moche his love was on her lyght,
Of all the soper he ne myght
Nodyr drynke nor ette.
The Carle sayde, "Gawen, comfort the,
For synn ys swete, and that I se.
Serten, I the hete,
Sche ys myn thou woldyst wer thynn.
Leve seche thoghttus and drenke the wynne,
For her thou schalt nott geytt."
Syr Gawen was aschemmyde in his thowght.
The Carllus doughtter forthe was brought,
That was so feyr and bryght.
As gold wyre schynyde her here.
Hit cost a thousand pound and mar,
Her aparrell pertly pyghte.
Wytt ryche stonnus her clothus wer sett,
Wytt ryche perllus about her frete,
So semly was that syghte.
Ovyr all the hall gann sche leme
As hit were a sonbeme -
That stonnus schone so bryght.
Then seyde the Carle to that bryght of ble,
"Wher ys thi harpe thou schuldist have broght wytt the?
Why hast thou hit forgette?"
Anon hit was fett into the hall,
And a feyr cher wyttall
Befor her fador was sett.
The harpe was of maser fyne;
The pynnys wer of golde, I wene;
Serten, wyttout lett
Furst sche harpyd, and sethe songe
Of love and of Artorrus armus amonge,
How they togeydor mett.
When they hade soupyde and mad hem glade
The Beschope into his chambur was lade,
Wytt hym Syr Key the kene.
They toke Syr Gawen, wyttout lessynge;
To the Carlus chamber thei gan hym brynge,
That was so bryght and schene.
They bade Syr Gawen go to bede,
Wytt clothe of golde so feyr sprede,
That was so feyr and bryght.
When the bede was made wytt wynn,
The Carle bade his oun Lady go in,
That lovfesom was of syghte.
A squyer came wytt a prevey far
And he unarmyde Gawen ther;
Schaply he was undyght.
The Carle seyde, "Syr Gawene,
Go take my wyfe in thi armus tweyne
And kys her in my syghte."
Syr Gawen ansswerde hyme anon,
"Syr, thi byddynge schall be doune,
Sertaynly in dede,
Kyll or sley, or laye adoune."
To the bede he went full sone,
Fast and that good spede,
For softnis of that Ladys syde
Made Gawen do his wyll that tyde;
Therof Gawen toke the Carle goode hede.
When Gawen wolde have doun the prevey far,
Then seyd the Carle, "Whoo ther!
That game I the forbede.
"But, Gawen, sethe thou hast do my byddynge,
Som kyndnis I most schewe the in anny thinge,
As ferforthe as I maye.
Thow schalt have wonn to so bryght
Schall play wytt the all this nyghte
Tyll tomorrowe daye."
To his doughtter chambur he went full ryght,
And bade her aryse and go to the knyght,
And wern hyme nott to playe.
Sche dorst not agenst his byddynge doun,
But to Gawen sche cam full sone
And style doun be hyme laye.
"Now, Gawen," quod the Carle, "holst the well payde?" 1
"Ye, for Gode, lorde," he sayde,
"Ryght well as I myghte!"
"Nowe," quod the Carle, "I woll to chambur go;
My blessynge I geyfe yow bouthe to,
And play togeydor all this nyght."
A glad man was Syr Gawen
Sertenly, as I yowe sayne,
Of this Lady bryght.
Serten, sothely for to say,
So, I hope, was that feyr maye
Of that genttyll knyght.
"Mary, mercy," thought that Lady bryghte,
"Her come never suche a knyght
Of all that her hathe benne."
Syr Key arose uppon the morrown
And toke his hors and wolde a goune
Homwarde, as I wenne.
"Nay, Syr Key," the Beschope gann seye,
"We woll not so wende our waye
Tyll we Syr Gawen have sene."
The Carll arose on morrow anon
And fond his byddynge reddy doune:
His dyner idyght full cleyne.
To a Mas they lett knelle;
Syr Gawen arose and went thertyll
And kyst that Lady bryght and cler.
"Maré, marcé," seyde that Lady bryght,
"Wher I schall se enny mor this knyght
That hathe ley my body so ner?"
When the Mese was doune to ende,
Syr Gawen toke his leve to wende
And thonkyde hym of his cher.
"Furst," sayde the Carle, "ye schall dynn
And on my blessynge wende home syne,
Homward al yn fere.
"Hit is twenti wynter gon," sayde the Karle, "nowe
That God I maked a vowe,
Therfore I was fulle sad:
Ther schulde never man logge in my wonys
But he scholde be slayne, iwys,
But he did as I hym bad.
But he wolde do my byddynge bowne,
He schulde be slayne and layde adowne,
Whedir he were lorde or lad.
Fonde I never, Gawen, none but the.
Nowe Gode of hevyn yelde hit the;
Therfore I am fulle glade.
"He yelde the," sayde the Carle, "that the dere boughte, 2
For al my bale to blysse is broughte
Throughe helpe of Mary quene."
He lade Gawen ynto a wilsome wonys,
There as lay ten fodir of dede menn bonys.
Al yn blode, as I wene,
Ther hynge many a blody serke,
And eche of heme a dyvers marke.
Grete doole hit was to sene.
"This slowe I, Gawen, and my helpis,
I, and also my foure whelpis.
For sothe, as I the say,
Nowe wulle I forsake my wyckyd lawys;
Ther schall no mo men her be slawe, iwys,
As ferthforthe as I may.
Gawen, for the love of the
Al schal be welcome to me
That comythe here by this way.
And for alle these sowlys, I undirtake,
A chauntery here wul I lete make,
Ten prestis syngynge til domysday."
Be that tyme her dyner was redy dyghte:
Tables wer hovyn up an hyghte;
Ikeverid thei were fulle clene.
Syr Gawen and this Lady clere,
They were iservyd bothe ifere.
Myche myrthe was theme bytwene;
Therfore the Carle was full glade.
The Byschop and Syr Kay he bad
Mery that thei scholde bene.
He yafe the Bischop to his blessynge
A cros, a myter, and a rynge,
A clothe of golde, I wene.
He yaf Syr Kay, the angery knyght,
A blode rede stede and a whight;
Suche on had he never sene.
He gaf Syr Gawen, sothe to say,
His doughter, and a whighte palfray,
A somer ichargid wyth golde.
Sche was so gloryous and so gay
I kowde not rekyn here aray,
So bryghte was non on molde.
"Nowe ryde forthe, Gawen, on my blessynge,
And grete wel Artyr, that is your Kynge,
And pray hym that he wolde,
For His love that yn Bedlem was borne,
That he wulle dyne wyth me tomorne."
Gawen seyde he scholde.
Then thei rode syngynge away
Wyth this yonge Lady on her palfray,
That was so fayre and bryghte.
They tolde Kynge Artir wher thei had bene,
And what wondirs thei had sene
Serteynly, in here syght.
"Nowe thonkyd be God, cosyn Gawyn,
That thou scapist alyve unslayne,
Serteyne wyth alle my myght."
"And I, Syr Kynge," sayd Syr Kay agayne,
"That ever I scapid away unslayne
My hert was never so lyght.
"The Carle prayde you, for His love that yn Bedlem was borne,
That ye wolde dyne wyth hym tomorne."
Kynge Artur sone hym hyght.
In the dawnynge forthe they rade;
A ryalle metynge ther was imade
Of many a jentylle knyght.
Trompettis mette hem at the gate,
Clarions of silver redy therate,
Serteyne wythoutyn lette -
Harpe, fedylle, and sawtry,
Lute, geteron, and menstrelcy.
Into the halle knyghtis hem fett.
The Carle knelyd downe on his kne
And welcomyd the Kynge wurthyly
Wyth wordis ware and wyse.
When the Kynge to the halle was brought,
Nothynge ther ne wantyd nought
That any man kowde devyse.
The wallys glemyd as any glasse;
Wyth dyapir colour wroughte hit was -
Of golde, asure, and byse;
Wyth tabernacles was the halle aboughte,
Wyth pynnacles of golde sterne and stoute;
Ther cowde no man hem preyse.
Trompettys trompid up in grete hete;
The Kynge lete sey grace and wente to mete,
And was iservyde wythoute lette.
Swannys, fesauntys, and cranys,
Partrigis, plovers, and curlewys
Before the Kynge was sette.
The Carle seyde to the Kynge, "Dothe gladly!
Here get ye no nothir curtesy,
As I undirstonde."
Wyth that come yn bollys of golde, so grete
Ther was no knyght sat at the mete
Myght lyfte hem wyth his on honde.
The Kynge swore, "By Seynte Myghelle,
This dyner lykythe me as welle
As any that evyr Y fonde."
A dubbyd hym knyght on the morne;
The contré of Carelyle he gafe hym sone
To be lorde of that londe.
"Here I make the yn this stownde
A knyght of the Table Rownde:
Karlyle thi name schalle be."
On the morne when hit was daylyght
Syr Gawen weddyid that Lady bryght,
That semely was to se.
Than the Carle was glade and blythe
And thonkyd the Kynge fele sythe,
For sothe, as I you say.
A ryche fest had he idyght
That lastyd holy a fortenyght
Wyth game, myrthe, and playe.
The mynstrellis had geftys fre
That they myght the better be
To spende many a day.
And when the feste was broughte to ende,
Lordis toke here leve to wende
Homwarde on here way.
A ryche abbey the Carle gan make
To synge and rede for Goddis sake
In wurschip of Oure Lady.
In the towne of mery Carelyle
He lete hit bylde stronge and wele;
Hit is a byschoppis see.
And theryn monkys gray
To rede and synge tille domysday,
As men tolde hit me,
For the men that he had slayne, iwis.
Jesu Cryste, brynge us to Thy blis
Above in hevyn, yn Thy see.
Listen; while; (see note)
one; sure and true
strong; (see note)
in addition unyielding; battle
honor; Britain; earned
Isle; [the area] is called
(That takes in); indeed
Cardiff sojourned; (see note)
With; (see note)
wished to go; hunt
Let there be
Baldwin; perform; (see note)
[animals'] sleek time; (see note)
start them from their cover
Exceedingly; Marrok; (see note)
Kay Caradoc; (see note)
greater (in rank); less
Lancelot of the Lake
Percevall; dare say
Ywain son of Urien
Gadiffer; Galleron; (see note)
Constantine; Reinbrun; (see note)
readied them right away; (see note)
King's uncle; Mordred; (see note)
with; did lead
perform their work
Le Bel Inconnu; (see note)
dun deer bleed
Petipace; Winchelsea; (see note)
pursued with shouts
Brandelys; Ironside; (see note)
Many; warrior; did
Certainly; dare say
Were; sun; hot
Giants; were; war
"Tawnyfoot" is named his steed; (see note)
other gear; (see note)
[A shield] of azure truly
[Displaying] a griffin; fair
knew; hunting; war
Than; (see note)
put them to trial
in his time
reason beyond the
hear; (see note)
would not forego [the chance]; beast
ran [on the hunt]
People; feathered arrows
archers for that occasion
did their horns
running in a crowd
hart; also hind
By; [it] was mid-morning
In a row; linden tree
blew their; loudly
Listen; adventure them
For sure; believe
Gentle sirs; hearken
away said; then
before we go [far]
Dare; refuse it to me
(i.e., non-noble warrior) [lives] here
give us lodging by Saint James
fellow; (see note)
be a guest; household
[The guest] will be overcome
only through; will
go along with you
And may I prosper
it; done; (see note)
brews such; (see note)
beaten [so fiercely]; stink
(i.e., won't wish to stay); (see note)
bliss (i.e., by heaven)
stay; against his wish
lord with us pleased; (see note)
health (i.e., may I prosper)
food for a meal
needed to; (see note)
with that; felt disdain
undertake with pleasure
If; don't blame me
limb and body
I sorely regret
Unless; special dispensation
Unless; with; (see note)
king's; take; (see note)
them (the gates); (see note)
As I may prosper
dare; it; guess
[If] knew; lofty
Several [of] your; give up
watch over you
gate; men; (see note)
Two; Arthur's house
By Saint Michael
should come; (see note)
young animals; fire
bull; lethal boar
big bear; loose
immediately; them; (see note)
commanded; hold off
tusks; at once
Lie still! Stay back!; (see note)
did fear him
For a single word
Turned up; foully; (see note)
in breadth; (see note)
in height; (see note)
Amazing as it sounds; (see note)
grown; them; (see note)
leg; have; (see note)
weak I dare say
kneel; (see note)
wine; precious vessels
What [good]; do
then; (see note)
it held; more
then; made their exit
see how their horses were stabled
small horse (foal); by them
made even, truly
cleric of high orders
know; courtesy; (see note)
so far as I can tell; (see note)
In a faint (swoon) he did lie
before you go off
we are sorely grieved
leave; [take stock]
It rained; fierce
by book; (see note)
lodging had obtained; (see note)
eat your fodder; (see note)
use here what; provide
times I guess
By; their; prepared
raised up on high (on trestles); (see note)
And then; pause
(sit in first place)
fairer; go (exist)
thus lost; (see note)
dare; (see note)
give; understand; (see note)
to the pantry door pass over; (see note)
hurt me at all
good-humored at that
given; blow; (see note)
by; him grasped
[whom] you wish; yours
wire shone her hair
all over adorned
chair as well
pause; (see note)
all the while
lovely; to see
strike [me]; knock [me]
[the Carl's] will; time
Then; heed; (see note)
private act (intercourse); (see note)
kindness; in some way
one [woman] just as
not hinder him from [sexual]
give; both two
dare say; woman
command already done
For a Mass; commanded the knell
Mary; (see note)
dine; (see note)
upon receiving; afterwards
years ago; (see note)
[to]; (see note)
Except that; surely
low; (see note)
Found [true]; but you
reward you for it
led; desolate dwelling
hung; shirt; (see note)
them [bore] a heraldic design
sorrow; (see note)
These slew; helpers
souls; make promise
church; have made
By; their; all prepared
Covered; (see note)
[the Carle's daughter]; (see note)
blood red; powerful
white riding horse
[And] a pack horse laden
describe her clothing
earth; (see note)
love of Him; Bethlehem
royal; took place
greeted them; (see note)
gittern; minstrelsy; (see note)
fetched them; (see note)
canopies; [trimmed all] about
had grace said; the meal
Enjoy; (see note)
other; (see note)
gave; at once; (see note)
many a time
feast; prepared; (see note)
an entire (i.e., wholly)
gifts liberal; (see note)
their leave to go
caused; to be built
(i.e., a cathedral)
[he enjoined] Cistercian monks; (see note)
On behalf of; indeed
on Your throne