Stanzas XXXI–XLV

To the forest thay take the way,
Bothe Gawan and Kay,
Menealfe and the fare May,
Comun to the kinge ;
The bore brittunt thay funde,
Was colurt of the kingus hunde,
If he were lord of that londe,
He hade no horsing.
Downe thay take that birde bryȝte,
Sette hur one, behinde the knyȝte,
Hur horse for the king was dyȝte,
With-outun letting ;
Gaue Kay the venesun to lede,
And hiet hamward, gode spede,
Bothe the birde and the brede,
To Carlele thay bringe.

Now as thay rode atte the way,
The kynge him seluun con say,
Bothe to Gauan and to Kay,
" Quere wan ȝe this wiȝte ?"
Thenne Kay to the king spake,
He sayd, " Sir, in the forest as I con wake,
Atte the Anturis hoke,
Ther mette me this knyȝte.
Ther to-gedur faȝte we,
Be chesun of this lady fre,
On werre hase he thus wonun me,
With mayn and wythe myȝte ;
And Gawan hase my rawunsun made,
For a course that he rode,
And felle him in the fild brode,
He wanne this biurde bryȝte.

" He toke him there to presunnere ;"
Then loghe that dameselle dere,
And louet with a mylde chere,
God and Sir Gawan !
Thenne sayd the king opon hiȝte,
Alle sqwithe to the knyȝte,
" Quat is thi rawunsun opon ryȝte,
The sothe thou me sayn ?"
The tothir vnsquarut him with skille,
" I conne notte say the ther-tille,
Hit is atte the quene wille,
Qwi schuld I layne ?
Bothe my dethe and my lyfe,
Is inne the wille of thi wife,
Quethur ho wulle stynte me of my strife,
Or putte me to payne !"

" Grete God !" quod the king,
" Gif Gawan gode endinge,
For he is sekur in alle kynne thinge,
To cowuntur with a knyȝte !
Of alle playus he berus the prise,
Loos of ther ladise,
Menealfe, and thou be wise,
Hold that thou be-heȝte.
And I schalle helpe that I maye,"
The king him seluun con saye,
To Carlele thay take the waye,
And inne the courte is liȝte ;
He toke this dameselle gente,
Be-fore the quene is he wente,
And sayd, " Medame, I am hedur sente
Fro Gawan, ȝour knyȝte."

He sayd, " Me-dame, Gawan ȝour knyȝte,
On werre hase wonun me to-nyȝte,
Be chesun of this birde briȝte,
Mi pride conne he spille ;
And gerut me squere squyftely,
To bringe the this lady,
And my nowne body,
To do hit in thi wille,
And I haue done as he me bade,"
" Now," quod the quene, " and I am glade,
Sethun thou art in my wille stade,
To spare or to spille ;
I giffe the to my lord, the kinge,
For he hase mestur of suche a thinge,
Of knyȝtus in a-cowunturinge,
This forward to fullfille."

" Now," the quene sayd, " God Almyste !
Saue me Gawan, my knyȝte,
That thus for wemen con fiȝte,
Fro wothus him were !"
Gawan sayd, " Medame, as God me spede,
He is duȝti of dede,
A blithe burne on a stede,
And graythe in his gere."
Thenne thay fochet furthe a boke,
Alle thayre laes for to loke,
The kinge sone his othe toke,
And squithely gerut him squere ;
And sekirly, with-outen fabulle,
Thus dwellus he atte the Rowuntabulle,
As prest knyȝte, and preuabulle,
With schild and with spere.

Nowe gode frindus ar thay,
Then carpus Sir Kay,
To the king con he say,
" Sire, a mervaelle thinke me,
Of Bowdewyn's avouyng,
ȝustur euyn in the eunyng,
With-owtun any lettyng,
Wele more thenne we thre."
Quod the king, " Sothe to sayn,
I kepe no lengur for to layn,
I wold wete wundur fayn,
How best myȝte be."
Quod, Kay, " And ȝe wold gif me leue,
And sithun take hit o no greue,
Now schuld I propurly preue,
As euyr myȝte I thee."

" ȝisse," quod the king, " on that couande,
That o payn on life and on londe,
That ȝe do him no wrunge,
Butte saue wele my knyȝte ;
As men monly him mete,
And sithun for-sette him the strete,
ȝe fynde him noȝte on his fete
Be wane, for he is wyȝte !
For he is horsutte fulle wele,
And clene clad in stele,
Is none of ȝow but he mun fele,
That he may on-lyȝte ;
ȝe wynnun him noȝte owte of his way,"
The king him seluun con say,
" Him is lefe, I dar lay,
To hald that he heȝte."

Thenne sex ar atte on assente,
Hase armut hom, and furthe wente,
Brayd owte aure a bente,
Bawdewyn to mete ;
With scharpe weppun and schene,
Gay gownus of grene,
To hold thayre armur clene,
And were hitte fro the wete.
Thre was sette on iche side,
To werne him the wayus wide,
Quere the knyȝte schuld furthe ride,
For-sette hym the strete ;
With copus couert thay hom thenne,
Ryȝte as thay hade bene vncowthe men,
For that thay wold noȝte be kennet,
Euyn downe to thayre fete.

Now as thay houut, and thay hyild,
Thay so a schene vndur schild,
Come prekand fast aure the filde,
On a fayre stede ;
Wele armut and dyȝte,
As freke redy to fyȝte,
Toward Carlele ryȝte,
He hies, gode spede.
He see ther sixe in his way,
Thenne to thaym seluun con thay say,
" Now he is ferd, I dar lay,
And of his lyfe dredus;"
Then Kay crius opon heȝte,
Alle squythe to the knyȝte,
" Othir flee or fiȝte,
The tone be-houus the nede !"

Thenne thay kest thayre copus hom fro,
Sir Bawdewyn se that hit wasse so,
And sayd, " And ȝe were als mony mo,
ȝe gerutte me notte to flee ;
I haue my ways for to weynde,
For to speke with a frynde,
As ȝe ar herdmen hinde,
ȝe marre notte me !"
Thenne the sex sembult hom in fere,
And squere, " By him that boȝte vs dere !
Thou passus neuyr a-way here,
Butte gif thou dede be !"
"ȝisse ! hardely," quod Kay,
" He may take a-nothir way,
And ther schalle no mon do nere say,
That schalle greue the."

" Gode the foȝilde," quod the knyȝte,
" For I am in my wais riȝte,
ȝistur euyn I the king hiȝte,
To cumme to my mete ;
I warne ȝow, frekes, be ȝe bold,
My ryȝte ways wille I holde ;"
A spere in fewtre he foldes,
A gode and a grete.
Kay stode nexte him in his way,
He jorput him aure on his play,
That heuy horse on him lay,
He squonet in that squete ;
He rode to there othir fyue,
Thayre schene schildus con he riue,
And faure felle he belyue,
In hie in that hete !

Hardely, with-outen delay,
The sex to hom hase takyn vppe Kay,
And thenne Sir Bawdewin con say,
" Wille ȝe any more ?"
The tother vnsquarutte him ther tille,
Sayd, " Thou may weynd quere thou wille,
For thou hase done vs noȝte butte skille,
Gif we be wowundut sore."
He brayd aure to the kinge,
With-owtun any letting,
He asshed, if he hade herd any tithing,
In thayre holtus hore ?
The knyȝte stedit and stode,
Sayd, " Sir, as I come thro ȝondur wode,
I herd ne se butte gode,
Quere I schuld furthe fare."

Thanne was the kinge ameruaylet thare,
That he wold telle him no more,
Als squithur thay ar ȝare,
To masse ar thay wente ;
By the masse wasse done,
Kay come home sone,
Told the king be-fore none,
" We ar alle schente.
Of Sir Baudewyn, ȝour knyȝte,
He is nobulle in the fiȝte,
Bold hardy and wiȝte,
To bide on a bente ;
Fie wille he neuyr more,
Him is muche leuyr dee thore,
I may banne hur that him bore,
Suche harmes haue I hente !"

Noue the king sayd, " Fie he ne can,
Ne werne his mete to no man,
Gife any biurne schuld him ban,
A meruail hit ware !"
Thenne the king cald his mynstrelle,
And told him holly his wille,
Bede him layne atte hit were stille,
That he schuld furthe fare,
To Baudewins of Bretan,
" I cummawunde the or thou cum a-gayne,
Faurty days o payne,
Loke that thou duelle there ;
And wete me preuely to say,
If any mon go meteles away,
For thi wareson for ay,
Do thou me neuyrmore."