Lines 1625–1805

“With swilk als ich byen shal:
Þer-of bi-seche you nou leue;
Wile ich speke with non oþer reue,
But with þe, þat iustise are,
Þat y mithe seken mi ware
In gode borwes up and doun,
And faren ich wile fro tun to tun.”
A gold ring drow he forth anon,
An hundred pund was worth þe ston,
And yaf it ubbe for to spede:--
He was ful wis þat first yaf mede,
And so was hauelok ful wis here,
He solde his gold ring ful dere,
Was neuere non so dere sold,
For chapmen, neyþer yung ne old:
Þat sholen ye forthward ful wel heren,
Yif þat ye wile þe storie heren.

Hwan ubbe hauede þe gold ring,
Hauede he youenet for no þing,
Nouth for þe borw euere-il del:--
Hauelok bi-hel he swiþe wel,
Hw he was wel of bones maked,
Brod in þe sholdres, ful wel schaped,
Þicke in þe brest, of bodi long;
He semede wel to ben wel strong.
“Deus!” hwat ubbe, “qui ne were he knith?
I woth, þat he is swiþe with!
Betere semede him to bere
Helm on heued, sheld and spere,
Þanne to beye and selle ware.
Allas! þat he shal þer-with fare.
Goddot! wile he trowe me,
Chaffare shal he late be.”
Neþeles he seyde sone:
“Hauelok, haue þou þi bone,
And y ful wel rede þe
Þat þou come, and ete with me
To-day, þou, and þi fayre wif,
Þat þou louest also þi lif.
And haue þou of hire no drede,
Shal hire no man shame bede.
Bi þe fey that y owe to þe,
Þerof shal i me serf-borw be.”

Hauelok herde þat he bad,
And thow was he ful sore drad,
With him to ete, for hise wif;
For him wore leuere þat his lif
Him wore reft, þan she in blame
Felle, or lauthe ani shame.
Hwanne he hauede his wille wat,
Þe stede, þat he onne sat,
Smot ubbe with spures faste,
And forth awey, but at þe laste,
Or he fro him ferde,
Seyde he, þat his folk herde:
“Loke þat ye comen beþe,
For ich it wile, and ich it rede.”

Hauelok ne durste, þe he were adrad,
Nouth with-sitten þat ubbe bad;
His wif he dide with him lede,
Vn-to þe heye curt he yede.
Roberd hire ledde, þat was red,
Þat hauede þarned for hire þe ded
Or ani hauede hire misseyd,
Or hand with iuele onne leyd.
Willam wendut was þat oþer
Þat hire ledde, roberdes broþer,
Þat was with at alle nedes:
Wel is him þat god man fedes!
Þan he weren comen to þe halle,
Biforen ubbe, and hise men alle,
Vbbe stirte hem ageyn,
And mani a knith, and mani a sweyn,
Hem for to se, and forto shewe;
Þo stod hauelok als a lowe
Aboven þo þat þer-inne wore,
Rith al bi þe heued more
Þanne ani þat þer-inne stod:
Þo was ubbe bliþe of mod,
Þat he saw him so fayr and hende,
Fro him ne mithe his herte wende,
Ne fro him, ne fro his wif;
He louede hem sone so his lif.
Weren non in denemark, þat him þouthe,
Þat he so mikel loue mouthe;
More he louede hauelok one,
Þan al denemark, bi mine wone!
Loke nou, hw god helpen kan
O mani wise wif and man.

Hwan it was comen time to ete,
Hise wif dede ubbe sone in fete,
And til hire seyde, al on gamen:
“Dame, þou and hauelok shulen ete samen,
And goldeboru shal ete wit me,
Þat is so fayr so flour on tre;
In al denemark nis wimman
So fayr so sche, bi seint iohan!”
Þanne he were set, and bord leyd,
And þe beneysun was seyd,
Biforn hem com þe beste mete
Þat king or cayser wolde ete;
Kranes, swannes, ueneysun,
Lax, lampreys, and god sturgun,
Pyment to drinke, and god clare,
Win hwit and red, ful god plente.
Was þer-inne no page so lite,
Þat euere wolde ale bite.
Of þe mete forto tel,
Ne of þe metes bidde i nout dwelle;
Þat is þe storie for to lenge,
It wolde anuye þis fayre genge.
But hwan he haueden þe kiwing deyled,
And fele siþes haueden wosseyled,
And with gode drinkes seten longe,
And it was time for to gonge,
Il man to þer he cam fro,
Þouthe ubbe, “yf I late hem go,
Þus one foure, with-uten mo,
So mote ich brouke finger or to,
For þis wimman bes mike wo!
For hire shal men hire louerd slo.”
He tok sone knithes ten,
And wel sixti oþer men,
Wit gode bowes, and with gleiues,
And sende him unto þe greyues,
Þe beste man of al þe toun,
Þat was named bernard brun;
And bad him, als he louede his lif,
Hauelok wel yemen, and his wif,
And wel do wayten al þe nith,
Til þe oþer day, þat it were lith.
Bernard was trewe, and swiþe with,
In al þe borw ne was no knith
Þat betere couþe on stede riden,
Helm on heued, ne swerd bi side.
Hauelok he gladlike under-stod,
With mike loue, and herte god,
And dide greyþe a super riche,
Also he was no with chinche,
To his bihoue euer-il del,
Þat he mithe supe swiþe wel.

Also he seten, and sholde soupe,
So comes a ladde in a ioupe,
And with him sixti oþer stronge,
With swerdes drawen, and kniues longe,
Ilkan in hande a ful god gleiue,
And seyde, “undo, bernard þe greyue!
Vndo swiþe, and latus in,

Or þu art ded, bi seint austin!”
Bernard stirt up, þat was ful big,
And caste a brinie up-on his rig,
And grop an ax, þat was ful god,
Lep to þe dore, so he wore wod,
And seyde, “hwat are ye, þat are þer-oute,
Þat þus biginnen forto stroute?
Goth henne swiþe, fule þeues,
For, bi þe louerd, þat man on leues,
Shol ich casten þe dore open,
Summe of you shal ich drepen!
And þe oþre shal ich kesten
In feteres, and ful faste festen!”
“Hwat haue ye seid,” quoth a ladde,
“Wenestu þat we ben adradde?
We shole at þis dore gonge
Maugre þin, carl, or outh longe.”
He gripen sone a bulder ston,
And let it fleye, ful god won,
Agen þe dore, þat it to-rof:
Auelok it saw, and þider drof,
And þe barre sone vt-drow,
Þat was unride, and gret ynow,
And caste þe dore open wide,
And seide, “her shal y now abide:
Comes swiþe vn-to me!
Datheyt hwo you henne fle!”
“No,” quodh on, “þat shaltou coupe,”
And bigan til him to loupe,
In his hond is swerd ut-drawe,
Hauelok he wende þore haue slawe;
And with him comen oþer two,
Þat him wolde of liue haue do.