Lines 1195–1444

Þat þei sholden þenne fle
Til grim, and til hise sones þre;
Þer wenden he alþer-best to spede,
Hem forto cloþe, and for to fede.
Þe lond he token under fote,
Ne wisten he non oþer bote,
And helden ay the riþe sti
Til he komen to grimesby.
Þanne he komen þere, þanne was grim ded,
Of him ne haueden he no red;
But hise children alle fyue
Alle weren yet on liue;
Þat ful fayre ayen hem neme,
Hwan he wisten þat he keme,
And maden ioie swiþe mikel,
Ne weren he neuere ayen hem fikel.
On knes ful fayre he hem setten,
And hauelok swiþe fayre gretten,
And seyden, “welkome, louerd dere!
And welkome be þi fayre fere!
Blessed be þat ilke þrawe,
Þat þou hire toke in godes lawe!
Wel is hus we sen þe on lyue,
Þou mithe us boþe selle and yeue;
Þou mayt us boþe yeue and selle,
With þat þou wilt here dwelle.
We hauen, louerd, alle gode,
Hors, and neth, and ship on flode,
Gold, and siluer, and michel auchte,
Þat grim ute fader us bitawchte.
Gold, and siluer, and oþer fe
Bad he us bi-taken þe.
We hauen shep, we hauen swin,
Bi-leue her, louerd, and al be þin;
Þo shalt ben louerd, þou shalt ben syre,
And we sholen seruen þe and hire;
And hure sistres sholen do
Al that euere biddes sho;
He sholen hire cloþen, washen, and wringen,
And to hondes water bringen;
He sholen bedden hire and þe,
For leuedi wile we þat she be.”
Hwan he þis ioie haueden maked,
Sithen stikes broken and kraked,
And þe fir brouth on brenne,
Ne was þer spared gos ne henne,
Ne þe hende, ne þe drake,
Mete he deden plente make;
Ne wantede þere no god mete,
Wyn and ale deden he fete,
And maden hem ful glade and bliþe,
Wesseyl ledden he fele siþe.

On þe nith, als goldeborw lay,
Sory and sorwful was she ay,
For she wende she were bi-swike,
Þat she were yeuen un-kyndelike.
O nith saw she þer-inne a lith,
A swiþe fayr, a swiþe bryth,
Al so brith, al so shir,
So it were a blase of fir.
She lokede norþ, and ek south,
And saw it comen ut of his mouth,
Þat lay bi hire in þe bed:
No ferlike þou she were adred.
Þouthe she, “wat may this bi-mene!
He beth heyman yet, als y wene,
He beth heyman er he be ded:”--
On hise shuldre, of gold red
She saw a swiþe noble croiz,
Of an angel she herde a uoyz:

“Goldeborw, lat þi sorwe be,
For hauelok, þat haueþ spuset þe,
He kinges sone, and kinges eyr,
Þat bikenneth þat croiz so fayr.
It bikenneth more, þat he shal
Denemark hauen, and englond al;
He shal ben king strong and stark
Of engelond and denemark;
Þat shal þu wit þin eyne sen,
And þo shalt quen and leuedi ben!”

Þanne she hauede herd the steuene
Of þe angel uth of heuene,
She was so fele siþes blithe,
Þat she ne mithe hire ioie mythe;
But hauelok sone anon she kiste,
And he slep, and nouth ne wiste.
Hwan þat aungel hauede seyd,
Of his slep a-non he brayd,
And seide, “lemman, slepes þou?
A selkuth drem dremede me nou.

Herkne nou hwat me haueth met:
Me þouthe y was in denemark set,
But on on þe moste hil
Þat euere yete kam i til.
It was so hey, þat y wel mouthe
Al þe werd se, als me þouthe.
Als i sat up-on þat lowe,
I bigan denemark for to awe,
Þe borwes, and þe castles stronge;
And mine armes weren so longe,
That i fadmede, al at ones,
denemark, with mine longe bones;
And þanne y wolde mine armes drawe
Til me, and hom for to haue,
Al that euere in denemark liueden
On mine armes faste clyueden;
And þe stronge castles alle
On knes bigunnen for to falle,
Þe keyes fellen at mine fet:--
Anoþer drem dremede me ek,
Þat ich fley ouer þe salte se
Til engeland, and al with me
Þat euere was in denemark lyues,
But bondemen, and here wiues,
And þat ich kom til engelond,
Al closede it intil min hond,
And, goldeborw, y gaf it þe:--
Deus! lemman, hwat may þis be?”
Sho answerede, and seyde sone:
“Ihesu crist, þat made mone,
Þine dremes turne to ioye;
Þat wite þw that sittes in trone!
Ne non strong king, ne caysere,
So þou shalt be, for þou shalt bere
In engelond corune yet;
Denemark shal knele to þi fet;
Alle þe castles þat aren þer-inne,
Shal-tow, lemman, ful wel winne.
I woth, so wel so ich it sowe,
To þe shole comen heye and lowe,
And alle þat in denemark wone,
Em and broþer, fader and sone,
Erl and baroun, dreng an kayn,
Knithes, and burgeys, and sweyn;
And mad king heyelike and wel,
Denemark shal be þin euere-ilc del.
Haue þou nouth þer-offe douthe
Nouth þe worth, of one nouthe;
Þer-offe with-inne þe firste yer
Shalt þou ben king, of euere-il del.
But do nou als y wile rathe,
Nim in with þe to denemark baþe,
And do þou nouth onfrest þis fare,
Lith and selthe felawes are.
For shal ich neuere bliþe be
Til i with eyen denemark se;
For ich woth, þat al þe lond
Shalt þou hauen in þin hond.
Prey grimes sones alle þre,
That he wenden forþ with þe;
I wot, he wilen þe nouth werne,
With þe wende shulen he yerne,
For he louen þe herte-like,
Þou maght til he aren quike,
Hwore so he o worde aren;
Þere ship þou do hem swithe yaren,
And loke þat þou dwellen nouth:
Dwelling haueth ofte scaþe wrouth.”

Hwan Hauelok herde þat she radde,
Sone it was day, sone he him cladde,
And sone to þe kirke yede,
Or he dide ani oþer dede,
And bifor þe rode bigan falle,
Croiz and crist bigan to kalle,
And seyde, “louerd, þat al weldes,
Wind and water, wodes and feldes,
For the holi milce of you,
Haue merci of me, louerd, nou!
And wreke me yet on mi fo,
Þat ich saw biforn min eyne slo
Mine sistres, with a knif,
And siþen wolde me mi lyf
Haue reft, for in the depe se
Bad he grim haue drenched me.
He hath mi lond with mikel vn-Rith,
With michel wrong, with mikel plith,
For i ne misdede him neuere nouth,
And haued me to sorwe brouth.
He haueth me do mi mete to þigge,
And ofte in sorwe and pine ligge.
Louerd, haue merci of me,
And late me wel passe þe se,
Þat ihc haue ther-offe douthe and kare,
With-uten stormes ouer-fare,
Þat y ne drenched be þer-ine,
Ne forfaren for no sinne.
And bringge me wel to þe lond,
Þat godard haldes in his hond;
Þat is mi Rith, eueri del:
Ihesu crist, þou wost it wel!”

Þanne he hauede his bede seyd,
His offrende on þe auter leyd,
His leue at ihesu crist he tok,
And at his suete moder ok,
And at þe croiz, þat he biforn lay,
Siþen yede sore grotinde awey.

Hwan he com hom, he wore yare,
Grimes sones, forto fare
In-to þe se, fishes to gete,
Þat hauelok mithe wel of ete.
But auelok þouthe al anoþer,
First he kalde þe heldeste broþer,
Roberd þe rede, bi his name,

Wiliam wenduth, and huwe rauen,
Grimes sones alle þre,
And seyde, “liþes nou alle to me,
Louerdinges, ich wile you sheue,
A þing of me þat ye wel knewe.
Mi fader was king of denshe lond,
Denemark was al in his hond
Þe day þat he was quik and ded;
But þanne hauede he wicke red,
Þat he me, and denemark al,
And mine sistres bi-tawte a þral:
A deueles lime he hus bitawte,
And al his lond, and al hise authe.
For y saw that fule fend
Mine sistres slo with hise hend;
First he shar a-two here þrotes,
And siþen karf hem al to grotes,
And siþen bad he in þe se
Grim, youre fader, drenchen me.
Deplike dede he him swere
On bok, þat he sholde me bere
Vnto þe se, an drenchen ine,
And he wolde taken on him þe sinne.
But grim was wis, and swiþe hende,
Wolde he nouth his soule shende;
Leuere was him to be for-sworen,
Þan drenchen me, and ben for-lorn;
But sone bigan he forto fle
Fro denemark, forto berwen me,
For yif ich hauede þer ben funden,
Hauede ben slayn, or harde bunden,
And heye ben henged on a tre,
Hauede go for him gold ne fe.
For-þi fro denemark hider he fledde,
And me ful fayre and ful wel fedde,
So þat vn-to þis ilke day,
Haue ich ben fed and fostred ay.
But nou ich am up to þat helde
Cumen, that ich may wepne welde,
And y may grete dintes yeue,
Shal i neuere hwil ich lyue
Ben glad, til that ich denemark se;
I preie you þat ye wende with me,
And ich may mak you riche men,
Ilk of you shal haue castles ten,
And þe lond þat þor-til longes,
Borwes, tunes, wodes and wonges.”