Lines 436–870

The fyrste daye of feverȝere, in thas faire marches!
Are I be fechyde wyth force, or forfette my landes,
þe floure of his faire folke fulle fay salle be levyde!
I salle hym sekyrly ensure, undyre my seele ryche,
To seege þe cetee of Rome wyth-in sevene wyntyre,
And that so sekerly ensege apone sere halfes,
That many a senatowr salle syghe for sake of me one!
My sommons er certified, and þow arte fulle servyde
Of cundit and credense, kayre whene the lykes:
I salle thi journaye engyste, enjoyne theme my selvene,
ffro this place to þe porte, there þow salle passe over;
Sevene dayes to Sandewyche, sette at the large,
Sexty myle on a daye, þe somme es bott lyttille!
Thowe moste spede at the spurs, and spare noghte thi fole,
Thowe weyndez by Watlyng-strette, and by no waye ells:
Thare thow nyghttes one nyghte, nedez moste þou lenge,
Be it foreste or felde, found þow no forthire;
Bynde thy blonke by a buske with thy brydille evene,
Lugge þi-selfe undyre lynde, as þe leefe thynkes,
There awes none alyenes to ayere appone nyghttys,
With syche a rebawdous rowtte to ryot thy selvene.
Thy lycence es lemete in presence of lordys,
Be now lathe or lette, ryghte as þe thynkes,
For bothe þi lyffe and thi lyme lygges þer-appone,
þofe syr Lucius had laide þe lordchipe of Rome;
ffor be þow foundene a fute with-owte þe flode merkes,
Aftyr þe aughtende day, whene undroune es rungene,
Þou salle be hevedede in hye, and with horsse drawene,
And seyne heyly be hangede, houndes to gnawene!
The rente ne rede golde, þat un-to Rome langes,
Salle y noghte redily renke, raunsone thyne one!”
“Sir,” sais the senatour, “so Crist mot me helpe!
Might I with wirchip wyne awaye ones,
I sulde never fore emperowr, þat on erthe lenges,
Ofte unto Arthure ayere one syche nedys;
Bot I am sengilly here, with sex sum of knyghtes;
I be-seke ȝow, syr, that we may sounde passe:
If any unlawefulle lede lette us by þe waye,
With-in thy lycence, lorde, thy loosse es cnpeyrede.”
“Care noghte,” quod the kyng, “thy coundyte es knawene
ffro Carlelele to þe coste, there thy cogge lengges;
þoghe thy cofers ware fulle, cramede with sylver,
Thow myghte be sekyre of my sele sexty myle forthire.”
They enclined to þe kynge, and counge þay askede,
Cayers owtt of Carelele, catchez one theire horsez;
Sir Cadore þe curtayes kende theme the wayes,
To Catrike þeme cunvayede, and to Crist þeme be-kennyde.
So þey spede at þe spoures, þey sprangene þeire horses,
Hyres þeme hakenayes hastyly þere aftyre;
So fore reddowr þey redene, and risted theme never,
Bot ȝif they luggede undire lynd, whills þeme lyghte failede;
Bot evere þe senatour for-sothe soghte at þe gayneste,
By þe sevende day was gone þe cetee þai rechide;
Of alle þe glee undire Gode so glade ware þey nevere,
As of þe sounde of þe see and Sandwyche belles!
Wythowttyne more stowuntynge they schippide þeire horsez,
Wery to þe wane see þey went alle att ones;
With þe mene of þe walle they weyde up þeire ankyrs,
And flede at þe fore flude, in Flaundrez þey rowede,
And thorughe Flaundres þey founde, as þeme faire thoghte,
Tille Akyne in Almayne, in Arthur landes;
Gosse by þe Mount Goddarde fulle grevous wayes,
And so in-to Lumberddye lykande to schewe;
They turne thurghe Tuskayne, with towres fulle heghe,
In pris appairelles theme in precious wedez;
The sevondaye in suters þay suggowrne þeire horsez,
And sekes þe Seyntez of Rome, be assente of knyghtes;
Sythyne prekes to þe pales with portes so ryche,
Þare syr Lucius lenges with lordes enowe;
Lowttes to hym lufly, and lettres hym bedes
Of credence enclosyde, with knyghtlyche wordez.
Thene the emperour was egree, and enkerly fraynes
þe answere of Arthure; he askes hyme sone
How he arayes þe rewme, and rewlys þe pople;
ȝif he be rebelle to Rome, whate ryghte þat he claymes:
“Thow sulde his ceptre have sesede, and syttyne aboune,
ffor reverence and realtee of Rome þe noble:
By sertes þow was my sandes, and senatowr of Rome,
He sulde fore solempnitee hafe servede þe hym selvene.”
“That wille he never for no waye of alle þis werlde ryche,
Bot who may wynne hym of werre, by wyghtnesse of handes;
Many fey schalle be fyrste appone þe felde levyde,
Are he appere in this place, profre whene þe likes:
I saye the syr Arthure es thyne enmye fore ever,
And ettelles to bee overlynge of þe empyre of Rome,
That alle his ancestres aughte, bot Utere hym-selfe.
Thy nedes this newe ȝere, I notifiede my-selfene,
Be-fore þat noble of name and neyvesome of kynges;
In the moste reale place of þe rounde table,
I somounde hyme solempnylye, one seeande his knyghtez;
Sene I was formyde in faythe so ferde was I nevere,
In alle þe placez ther I passede of pryncez in erthe!
I wolde fore-sake alle my suyte of segnowry of Rome,
Or I efte to þat soveraygne whare sente one suyche nedes!
He may be chosyne cheftayne, cheefe of alle oper,
Bathe be chauncez of armes and chevallrye noble,
ffor whyeseste and worthyeste, and wyghteste of haundez:
Of alle the wyes þate I watte in this werlde ryche,
The knyghtlyeste creatowre in Cristyndome haldene,
Of kynge or of conquerour, crownede in erthe,
Of countenaunce of corage, of crewelle lates,
The comlyeste of knyghtehode þat undyre Cryste lyffes!
He maye be spokene in dyspens, despysere of sylvere,
That no more of golde gyffes þane of grette stones,
No more of wyne þane of watyre, that of þe welle rynnys,
Ne of welthe of þ[i]s werlde bot wyrchipe allone.
Syche contenaunce was never knowene in no kythe ryche,
As was with þat conquerour in his courte haldene;
I countede at this Crystynmesse, of kyngez enoynttede,
Hole tene at his table, þat tyme with hyme selfene;
He wylle werraye i-wysse, be-ware ȝif þe lykes,
Wage many wyghtemene, and wache thy marches,
That they be redye in araye, and at areste foundyne;
ffor ȝife he reche un-to Rome, he raunsouns it for evere!
I rede þow dreste the þer-fore, and drawe no lytte langere,
To sekyre of þi sowdeours, and send to þe mowntes;
Be þe quartere of this ȝere, and hym quarte staunde,
He wylle wyghtlye in a qwhyle one his wayes hye.”
“Bee Estyre,” sais þe Emperour, “I ettylle my selfene,
To hostaye in Almayne with armede knyghtez;
Sende freklye into Fraunce, þat flowr es of rewmes,
ffande to fette þat freke, and forfette his landez;
ffor I salle sette kepers, fulle covaunde and noble,
Many geaunte of geene, justers fulle gude,
To mete hym in the mountes, and martyre hys knyghtes,
Stryke þeme doune in strates, and struye theme fore evere,
There salle appone Godarde a garette be rerede,
That schalle be garneschte and kepyde with gude mene of armes,
And a bekyne abovene to brynne whene þeme lykys,
Þat nane enmye with hoste salle entre the mountes;
There schalle one mounte Bernarde be beyldede anoþere,
Buschede with banerettes and bachelers noble:
In at the portes of Pavye schalle no prynce passe,
Thurghe the perelous places, for my pris knyghtes.”
Thane syr Lucius lordlyche lettres he sendys
Onone in-to þe Oryente, with austeryne knyghtez,
Tille Ambyganye and Orcage, and Alysaundyre eke,
To Inde and to Ermonye, as Ewfrates rynnys,
To Asye, and to Affrike, and Ewrope þe large,
To Irritayne and Elamet, and alle þase owte ilez;
To Arraby and Egipt, tille erles and oper,
That any erthe ocupyes in þase Este marches;
Of Damaske and Damyat, and dukes and erles,
ffor drede of his daungere they dresside þeme sone;
Of Crete and of Capados the honourable kyngys
Come at his commandmente, clenly at ones;
To Tartary and Turky, whene tythynngez es comene,
They turne in by Thebay terauntez fulle hugge,
The flour of þe faire folke, of Amazonnes landes;
Alle thate ffaillez on þe felde be forfette fore evere!
Of Babyloyne and Baldake the burlyche knyghtes,
Bayous with þeire baronage bydez no langere;
Of Perce and of Pamphile, and Preter Johnne landes,
Iche prynce with his powere appertlyche graythede;
The Sowdane of Surrye assemblez his knyghtes,
ffra Nylus to Nazarethe, nommers fulle huge;
To Garyere and to Galelé þey gedyre alle at ones;
The Sowdanes that ware sekyre sowdeours to Rome,
They gadyrede overe þe Grekkes see with grevous wapyns,
In theire grete galays, wyth gleterande scheldez;
The kynge of Cyprys one þe see þe Sowdane habydes,
With alle the realles of Roodes, arayede with hyme one:
They sailede with a syde wynde ovre þe salte strandez:
Sodanly þe Sarezenes, as theme selfe lykede,
Craftyly at Cornett the kynges are aryesede,
ffra þe cete of Rome sexti myle large:
Be that the Grekes ware graythede, a fulle gret nombyre,
The myghtyeste of Macedone, with mene of þa marches,
Pulle and Pruyslande presses with oper,
The lege-mene of Lettow with legyons ȝnewe:
Thus they semble in sortes, summes fulle huge,
Sowdanes and Sarezenes owt of sere landes,
The Sowdane of Surry and sextene kynges,
At the cetes of Rome assemblede at ones.
Thane yschewes þe Emperowr armede at ryghtys,
Arayede with his Romaynes appone ryche stedys;
Sexty geauntes be-fore engenderide with fendez,
With weches and warlaws to wacchene his tentys;
Ay-ware whare he wendes, wyntrez and ȝeres.
Myghte no blonkes theme bere, thos bustows churlles,
Bot coverde camellez of towres, enclosyde in maylez;
He ayerez oute with alyenez ostes fulle huge,
Ewyne in-to Almayne, þat Arthure hade wonnyne;
Rydes in by þe ryvere, and ryottez hyme selvene,
And ayeres with a huge wylle alle þas hye landez;
Alle Westwale of werre he wynnys as hym lykes,
Drawes in by Danuby, and dubbez hys knyghtez;
In the contré of Colome castelles enseggez,
And suggeowrnez þat sesone wyth Sarazenes ȝnewe.
At the utas of Hillary, Syr Arthure hym-selvene
In his kydde councelle commande þe lordes,—
“Kayere to ȝowr cuntrez, and semble ȝow knyghtes,
And kepys me at Constantyne clenlyche arayede;
Byddez me at Gareflete apone þa blythe stremes,
Baldly with-in borde with ȝowre beste beryns;
I schalle menskfully ȝowe mete in thos faire marches.”
He sendez furthe sodaynly sergeantes of armes,
To alle hys mariners on rawe, to areste hym schippys;
Wyth-in sextene dayes hys fleet whas assemblede,
At Sandewyche on þe see, saile whene hym lykes.
In the palez of ȝorke a perlement he haldez,
With alle þe perez of þe rewme, prelates and oþer;
And aftyre þe prechynge in presence of lordes,
The kyng in his concelle carpys þes wordes,—
“I am in purpos to passe perilous wayes,
To kaire with my kene mene, to conquere ȝone landes,
To owttraye myne enmy, ȝif aventure it schewe,
That ocupyes myne heritage, þe empyre of Rome.
I sett ȝow here a soveraynge, ascente ȝif ȝowe lykys,
That es me sybb, my syster sone, Sir Mordrede hym selvene,
Salle be my levetenante, with lordchipez ȝnewe,
Of alle my lele lege-mene, þat my landez ȝemes.”
He carpes tille his cosyne þane, in counsaile hym selvene,—
“I make the kepare, syr knyghte, of kyngrykes manye,
Wardayne wyrchipfulle, to weilde al my landes,
That I have wonnene of werre, in alle þis werlde ryche;
I wyll þat Waynowr, my weife, in wyrchipe be holdene,
That hire waunte noo wele, ne welthe þat hire lykes;
Luke my kydde castells be clenlyche arrayede,
There cho maye suggowrne hire-selfe, wyth semlyche berynes.
ffaunde my fforestez be ffrythede, o frenchepe for evere,
That nane werreye my wylde, botte Waynour hir selvene,
And þat in þe sesone whene grees es assignyde,
That cho take hir solace in certayne tyms
Chauncelere and chambyrleyne chaunge as þe lykes,
Audytours and offycers ordayne thy selvene,—
Bathe jureez, and juggez, and justicez of landes,
Luke thow justyfye theme wele that injurye wyrkes:
If me be destaynede to dye at Dryghtyns wylle,
I charge the my sektour, cheffe of alle oper,
To mynystre my mobles, fore mede of my saule,
To mendynnantez and mysese in myschefe fallene:
Take here my testament of tresoure fulle huge,
As I trayste appone the, be traye thowe me never!
As þow wille answere be-fore the austeryne jugge,
That alle þis werlde wynly wysse as hyme lykes,
Luke þat my laste wylle be lelely perfowrmede!
Thow has clenly þe cure that to my coroune langez,
Of alle my werdez wele, and my weyffe eke;
Luke þowe kepe the so clere, there be no cause fondene,
Whene I to contré come, if Cryste wille it thole,
And thow have grace gudly to governe thy selvene,
I salle coroune þe knyghte kyng with my handez.”
Than syr Modrede fulle myldly meles hym selvene,
Knelyd to þe conquerowr, and carpes þise wordez,—
“I be-seke ȝow, syr, as my sybbe lorde,
Þat ȝe wille for charyté cheese ȝow anoþer;
ffor if ȝe putte me in þis plytte, ȝowre pople es dyssavyde;
To presente a prynce astate my powere es symple:
Whene oþer of werre wysse are wyrchipide here-aftyre,
Thane may I forsothe be sette bott at lyttille.
To passe in ȝowr presance my purpos es takyne,
And alle my purveaunce apperte fore my pris knyghtez.”
“Thowe arte my nevewe fulle nere, my nurree of olde,
That I have chastyede and chosene, a childe of my chambyre;
ffor the sybredyne of me, fore-sake noghte þis offyce
That thow ne wyrk my wille, thow whatte watte it menes.”
Now he takez hys leve, and lengez no langere,
At lordez, at lege-mene, þat leves hyme byhyndene.
And seyne þat worthilyche wy went un-to chambyre,
ffor to comfurthe þe qwene, þat in care lenges;
Waynour waykly wepande hym kyssiz,
Talkez to hym tenderly with teres ȝnewe,—
“I may wery the wye, that this werre movede,
That warnes me wyrchippe of my wedde lorde;
Alle my lykynge of lyfe owte of lande wendez,
And I in langowr am lefte, leve ȝe for evere!
Schyne myghte I, dere lufe, dye in ȝowr armes,
Are I þis destanye of dule sulde drye by myne one!”
“Grefe þe noghte, Gaynour, fore Goddes lufe of hewene,
Ne gruche noghte my ganggynge, it salle to gude turne!
Thy wonrydez and thy wepynge woundez myne herte,
I may noghte wit of þis woo, for alle þis werlde ryche;
I have made a kepare, a knyghte of thyne awene,
Overlynge of Ynglande undyre thy selvene,
And that es syr Mordrede, þat þow has mekylle praysede,
Salle be thy dictowr, my dere, to doo whatte the lykes.”
Thane he takes hys leve at ladys in chambyre,
Kysside them kyndlyche, and to Criste be-teches;
And then cho swounes fulle swythe, whe[n] he hys swerde aschede,
Twys in a swounyng, swette as cho walde!
He pressed to his palfray, in presance of lordes,
Prekys of the palez with his prys knyghtes,
Wyth a realle rowte of þe rounde table;
Soughte to-warde Sandewyche, cho sees hyme no more!
Thare the grete ware gederyde, wyth galyarde knyghtes,
Garneschit over þe grene felde and graythelyche arayede;
Dukkes and duzseperes daynttehely rydes,
Erlez of Ynglande with archers ȝnewe:
Schirreves scharply schiftys the comouns,
Rewlys be-fore þe ryche of the rounde table,
Assignez ilke a contree to certayne lordes,
In the southe one þe see banke saile whene þeme lykes
Thane bargez theme buskez, and to þe baunke rowes,
Bryngez blonkez one bourde, and burlyche helmes;
Trussez in tristly trappyde stedes,
Tentez and othire toylez, and targez fulle ryche,
Cabanes and clathe sokkes, and coferez fulle noble,
Hukes and haknays, and horsez of armez;
Thus they stowe ine the stuffe of fulle steryne knyghtez.
Qwene alle was schyppede that scholde, they schounte no lengere,
Bot ventelde theme tyte, as þe tyde rynnez;
Coggez and crayers, þan crossez þaire mastez,
At the commandment of þe kynge, uncoverde at ones.
Wyghtly one þe wale thay wye up þaire ankers,
By wytt of þe watyre mene of þe wale ythez,
ffrekes one þe forestayne, fakene þeire coblez,
In floynes and fercestez, and Flemesche schyppes,
Tytt saillez to þe toppe, and turnez the lufe,
Standez appone stere-bourde, sterynly þay songene,
The pryce schippez of the porte provene theire depnesse,
And fondez wyth fulle saile ower the fawe ythez;
Holly with-owttyne harme þay hale in bottes,
Schipe-mene scharply schotene þaire portez,
Launchez lede apone lufe, lacchene þer depez,
Lukkes to þe lade-sterne whene þe lyghte faillez;
Castez coursez be crafte, whene þe clowde rysez,
With þe nedylle and þe stone one þe nyghte tydez;
For drede of þe derke nyghte þay drecchede a lyttille,
And alle þe steryne of þe streme strekyne at onez:
The kynge was in a gret cogge, with knyghtez fulle many,
In a cabane enclosede, clenlyche arayede;
With-in on a ryche bedde rystys a lyttylle,
And with þe swoghe of þe see in swefnynge he felle.
Hym dremyd of a dragone, dredfulle to beholde,
Come dryfande one þe depe to drenschene hys pople,
Ewene walkande owte of the Weste landez,
Wanderande unworthyly overe the wale ythez;
Bothe his hede and hys hals ware halely alle over
Cundyde of azure, enamelde fulle faire:
His scoulders ware schalyde alle in clene sylvere,
Schreede over alle þe schrympe with schrinkande poyntez;
Hys wombe and hys wenges of wondyrfulle hewes,
In mervaylous maylys he mountede fulle hye;
Whayme þat he towchede he was tynt for ever!
Hys feete ware floreschede alle in fyne sabylle,
And syche a vennymous flayre flowe fro his lyppez,
That the flode of þe flawez alle one fyre semyde!
Thane come of þe oryente, ewyne hyme agaynez,
A blake bustows bere abwene in the clowdes,
With yche a pawe as a poste, and paumes fulle huge,
With pykes fulle perilous, alle plyande þame semyde,
Lothene and lothely, lokkes and oper,
Alle with lutterde legges, lokerde unfaire;
Filtyrde unfrely wyth fomaunde lyppez,
The foulleste of fegure that fowrmede was ever!
He baltyrde, he bleryde, he braundyschte þer-after;
To bataile he bounez hym with bustows clowez:
He romede, he rarede, that roggede alle þe erthe!
So ruydly he rappyd at to ryot hym selvene!
Thane the dragone on dreghe dressede hyme aȝaynez,
And with hys duttez hym drafe one dreghe by þe walkyne:
He fares as a fawcone, frekly he strykez;
Bothe with feete and with fyre he feghttys at ones!
The bere in the bataile þe bygger hym semyde,
And byttes hyme boldlye wyth balefulle tuskez;
Syche buffetez he hym rechez with hys brode klokes,
Hys brest and hys brathelle was blodye alle over!
He rawmpyde so ruydly that alle þe erthe ryfez,
Rynnande one reede blode as rayne of the hevene!
He hade wereyde the worme by wyghtnesse of strenghte,
Ne ware it fore þe wylde fyre þat he hyme wyth defendez:
Thane wandyrs þe worme awaye to hys heghttez,
Comes glydande fro þe clowddez, and cowpez fulle evene;
Towchez hym wyth his talonnez, and terez hys rigge,
Be-twyx þe taile and the toppe tene fote large!
Thus he brittenyd the bere, and broghte hyme olyfe,
Lette hyme falle in the flode, fleete whare hyme lykes:
So they bryng þe bolde kyng bynne þe schippe burde,
Þat nere he bristez for bale, one bede whare he lyggez.
Thane waknez the wyese kynge, wery fore-travaillede,
Takes hyme two phylozophirs, that folowede hyme ever,
In the sevyne scyence the suteleste fondene,
The cony[n]geste of clergye undyre Criste knowene;
He tolde þeme of hys tourmente, þat tyme þat he slepede,
“Drechede with a dragone, and syche a derfe beste,
Has mad me fulle wery; ȝe telle me my swefene,
Ore I mone swelte as swythe, as wysse me oure Lorde!”
“Sir,” saide þey sone thane, thies sagge philosopherse,
“The dragone þat þow dremyde of, so dredfulle to schewe,
That come dryfande over þe deepe, to drynchene thy pople,
Sothely and certayne thy selvene it es,
That thus saillez over þe see with thy sekyre knyghtez:
The colurez þat ware castyne appone his clere wengez,
May be thy kyngrykez alle, that thow has ryghte wonnyne;
And the tachesesede taile, with tonges so huge,
Be-takyns þis faire folke, that in thy fleet wendez.
The bere that bryttenede was abowene in þe clowdez,
Betakyns the tyrauntez þat tourmentez thy pople;
Or elles with some gyaunt some journee salle happyne,
In syngulere batelle by ȝoure selfe one;
And þow salle hafe þe victorye thurghe helpe of oure Lorde,
As þow in thy visione was opynly schewede!
Of this dredfulle dreme ne drede the no more,
Ne kare noghte, syr conquerowr, bot comforth thy selvene;
And thise þat saillez over þe see, with thy sekyre knyghtez.”
With trumppez thene trystly, they trisene upe þaire saillez,
And rowes over the ryche see, this rowtte alle at onez;
The comely coste of Normandye they cachene fulle evene,
And blythely at Barflete theis bolde are arryfede,
And fyndys a flete there of frendez ȝnewe,
The floure and þe faire folke of fyftene rewmez;
ffore kyngez and capytaynez kepyde hyme fayre,
As he at Carelele commaundede at Cristymesse hym selvene.
Be they had takene the lande, and tentez upe rerede,
Comez a templere tyte, and towchide to þe kynge—
“Here es a teraunt be-syde that towrmentez thi pople,
A grett geaunte of geene, engenderde of fendez;
He has fretyne of folke mo thane fyfe hondrethe,
And als fele fawntekyns of freeborne childyre!
This has bene his sustynaunce alle this sevene wynttere,
And ȝut es that sotte noghte sade, so wele hyme it lykez!
In þe contree of Constantyne no kynde has he levede,
With-owttyne kydd castelles enclosid wyth walles,
That he ne has clenly distroyede alle the knave childyre,
And theme caryede to þe cragge, and clenly deworyde!
The duchez of Bretayne to daye has he takyne,
Beside Reynes as scho rade with hire ryche knyghttes;
Ledd hyre to the mountayne, thare þat lede lengez,
To lye by that lady, aye whyls his lyfe lastez.
We folowede o ferrome moo thene fyfe hundrethe,
Of beryns, and of burgeys, and bachelers noble,
Bot he coverde the cragge; cho cryede so lowde,
The care of þat creatowre cover salle I never!
Scho was flour of alle Fraunce, or of fyfe rewmes,
And one of the fayreste that fowrmede was evere,
The gentileste jowelle a-juggede with lordes,
ffro Geene unto Gerone, by Jhesu of hevene!
Scho was thy wyfes cosyne, knowe it if þe lykez,
Commene of þe rycheste, that regnez in erthe:
As thow arte ryghtwise kynge rewe on thy pople,
And fande for to venge theme, that thus are rebuykyde!”
“Allas!” said syr Arthure, “so lange have I lyffede,
Hade I wytene of this, wele had me chefede;
Me es noghte fallene faire, bot me es foule happynede,