Lines 2699–3001

Bi-forn þe syþe þat ful sharp is.
Hwan hauelok saw his folk so brittene,
And his ferd so swiþe littene,
He cam driuende up-on a stede,
And bigan til him to grede,
And seyde, “godrich, wat is þe
Þat þou fare þus with me?
And mine gode knihtes slos,
Siker-like þou mis-gos.
Þou wost ful wel, yif þu wilt wite,
Þat aþelwold þe dide site
On knes, and sweren on messe-bok,
On caliz, and on pateyn hok
Þat þou hise douhter sholdest yelde,
Þan she were winnan of elde,
Engelond eueril del:
Godrich þe erl, þou wost it wel.
Do nu wel with-uten fiht,
Yeld hire þe lond, for þat is rith.
Wile ich forgiue þe þe lathe,
Al mi dede and al mi wrathe,
For y se þu art so with,
And of þi bodi so god knith.”
“Þat ne wile ich neuere mo,”
Quoth erl godrich, “for ich shal slo
Þe, and hire for-henge heye.
I shal þrist ut þi rith eye
Þat þou lokes with on me,
But þu swiþe heþen fle.”
He grop þe swerd ut sone anon,
And hew on hauelok, ful god won,
So þat he clef his sheld on two:
Hwan hauelok saw þat shame do
His bodi þer bi-forn his ferd,
He drow ut sone his gode swerd,
And smot him so up-on þe crune,
Þat godrich fel to þe erþe adune.
But godrich stirt up swiþe sket,
Lay he nowth longe at hise fet,
And smot him on þe sholdre so,
Þat he dide þare undo
Of his brinie ringes mo,
Þan þat ich kan tellen fro;
And woundede him rith in þe flesh,
Þat tendre was, and swiþe nesh,
So þat þe blod ran til his to:
Þo was hauelok swiþe wo,
Þat he hauede of him drawen
Blod, and so sore him slawen.
Hertelike til him he wente,
And godrich þer fulike shente;
For his swerd he hof up heye,
And þe hand he dide of fleye,
Þat he smot him with so sore:
Hw mithe he don him shame more?

Hwan he hauede him so shamed,
His hand of plat, and yuele lamed,
He tok him sone bi þe necke
Als a traytour, daþeyt wo recke!
And dide him binde and fetere wel
With gode feteres al of stel,
And to þe quen he sende him,
Þat birde wel to him ben grim;
And Bad she sholde don him gete,
And þat non ne sholde him bete,
Ne shame do, for he was knith,
Til knithes haueden demd him Rith.
Þan þe englishe men þat sawe,
Þat þei wisten, heye and lawe,
Þat Goldeboru, þat was so fayr,
Was of engeland rith eyr,
And þat þe king hire hauede wedded,
And haueden ben samen bedded,
He comen alle to crie merci,
Vnto þe king, at one cri,
And beden him sone manrede and oth,
Þat he ne sholden, for lef ne loth,
Neuere more ageyn him go,
Ne ride, for wel ne for wo.

Þe king ne wolde nouth for-sake,
Þat he ne shulde of hem take
Manrede þat he beden, and ok
Hold oþes sweren on þe bok;
But or bad he, þat þider were brouth
Þe quen, for hem, swilk was his þouth,
For to se, and forto shawe,
Yif þat he hire wolde knawe.
Þoruth hem witen wolde he,
Yif þat she aucte quen to be.

Sixe erles weren sone yare,
After hire for to fare.
He nomen on-on, and comen sone,
And brouthen hire, þat under mone
In al þe werd ne hauede per,
Of hende-leik, fer ne ner.
Hwan she was come þider, alle
Þe englishe men bi-gunne to falle
O knes, and greten swiþe sore,
And seyden, “leuedi, kristes ore,
And youres! we hauen misdo mikel,
Þat we ayen you haue be fikel,
For englond auhte forto ben youres,
And we youre men and youres.
Is non of us, yung ne old,
Þat we ne wot, þat aþelwold
Was king of þis kunerike,
And ye his eyr, and þat þe swike
Haues it halden with mikel wronge:
God leue him sone to honge!”

Quot hauelok, “hwan þat ye it wite.
Nu wile ich þat ye doun site,
And after godrich haues wrouht,
Þat haues in sorwe him-self brouth,
Lokes þat ye demen him rith,
For dom ne spared clerk ne knith,
And siþen shal ich under-stonde
Of you, after lawe of londe,
Manrede, and holde oþes boþe,
Yif ye it wilen, and ek rothe.”
Anon þer dune he hem sette,
For non þe dom ne durste lette,
And demden him to binden faste
Vp-on an asse swiþe un-wraste,
Andelong, nouht ouer-þwert,
His nose went unto þe stert;
And so to lincolne lede,
Shamelike in wicke wede,
And hwan he cam un-to þe borw,
Shamelike ben led þer-þoru,
Bisouþe þe borw, un-to a grene,
Þat þare is yet, also y wene,
And þere be bunden til a stake,
Abouten him ful gret fir make,
And al to dust be brend Rith þere;
And yet demden he þer more,
Oþer swikes for to warne,
Þat hise children sulde þarne
Euere more þat eritage,
Þat his was, for hise utrage.

Hwan þe dom was demd and seyd,
Sket was þe swike on þe asse leyd,
And led vn-til þat ilke grene,
And brend til asken al bidene.
Þo was Goldeboru ful bliþe,
She þanked god fele syþe,
Þat þe fule swike was brend,
Þat wende wel hire bodi haue shend,
And seyde, “nu is time to take
Manrede of brune and of blake,
Þat ich se riden and go:
Nu ich am wreken of mi fo.”

Hauelok anon manrede tok
Of alle englishe, on þe bok,
And dide hem grete oþes swere,
Þat he sholden him god feyth bere
Ageyn alle þat woren liues,
And þat sholde ben born of wiues.

Þanne he hauede sikernesse
Taken of more and of lesse,
Al at hise wille, so dide he calle
Þe erl of cestre, and hise men alle,
Þat was yung knith wit-uten wif,
And seyde, “sire erl, bi mi lif,
And þou wile mi conseyl tro,
Ful wel shal ich with þe do,
For ich shal yeue þe to wiue
Þe fairest þing that is oliue.

Þat is gunnild of grimesby,
Grimes douther, bi seint dauy!
Þat me forth broute, and wel fedde,
And ut of denemark with me fledde,
Me for to burwe fro mi ded:
Sikerlike, þoru his red
Haue ich liued in-to þis day,
Blissed worþe his soule ay!
I rede þat þu hire take,
And spuse, and curteyse make,
For she is fayr, and she is fre,
And al so hende so she may be.
Þertekene she is wel with me,
Þat shal ich ful wel shewe þe,
For ich giue þe a giue,
Þat euere more hwil ich liue,
For hire shal-tu be with me dere,
Þat wile ich þat þis folc al here.”
Þe erl ne wolde nouth ageyn
Þe kinge be, for knith ne sweyn,
Ne of þe spusing seyen nay,
But spusede hire þat ilke day.
Þat spusinge was god time maked,
For it ne were neuere clad ne naked,
In a þede samened two
Þat cam to-gidere, liuede so,
So þey diden al here liue:
He geten samen sones fiue,
Þat were þe beste men at nede,
Þat mouthe riden on ani stede.
Hwan gunnild was to cestre brouth,
Hauelok þe gode ne for-gat nouth
Bertram, þat was the erles kok,
Þat he ne dide callen ok,
And seyde, “frend, so god me rede!
Nu shaltu haue riche mede,

For wissing, and þi gode dede,
Þat tu me dides in ful gret nede.
For þanne y yede in mi cuuel,
And ich ne hauede bred, ne sowel,
Ne y ne hauede no catel,
Þou feddes and claddes me ful wel.
Haue nu for-þi of cornwayle
Þe erldom ildel, with-uten fayle,
And al þe lond þat godrich held,
Boþe in towne, and ek in feld;
And þerto wile ich, þat þu spuse,
And fayre bring hire un-til huse,
Grimes douther, leuiue þe hende,
For þider shal she with þe wende.
Hire semes curteys forto be,
For she is fayr so flour on tre;
Þe heu is swilk in hire ler
So is þe rose in roser,
Hwan it is fayr sprad ut newe
Ageyn þe sunne, brith and lewe.”
And girde him sone with þe swerd
Of þe erldom, bi-forn his ferd,
And with his hond he made him knith,
And yaf him armes, for þat was rith,
And dide him þere sone wedde
Hire þat was ful swete in bedde.

After þat he spused wore,
Wolde þe erl nouth dwelle þore,
But sone nam until his lond,
And seysed it al in his hond,
And liuede þer-inne, he and his wif,
An hundred winter in god lif,
And gaten mani children samen,
And liueden ay in blisse and gamen.
Hwan þe maydens were spused boþe,
Hauelok anon bigan ful rathe
His denshe men to feste wel
Wit riche landes and catel,
So þat he weren alle riche:
For he was large and nouth chinche.

Þer-after sone, with his here,
For he to lundone, forto bere
Corune, so þat alle it sawe,
Henglishe ant denshe, heye and lowe,
Hwou he it bar with mikel pride,
For his barnage þat was un-ride.

Þe feste of his coruning
Lastede with gret ioying
Fourti dawes, and sumdel mo;
Þo bigunnen þe denshe to go
Vn-to þe king, to aske leue,
And he ne wolde hem nouth greue,
For he saw þat he woren yare
In-to denemark for to fare,
But gaf hem leue sone anon,
And bitauhte hem seint Johan;
And bad ubbe, his iustise,
Þat he sholde on ilke wise
Denemark yeme and gete so,
Þat no pleynte come him to.

Hwan he wore parted alle samen,
Hauelok bi-lefte wit ioie and gamen
In engelond, and was þer-inne
Sixti winter king with winne,
And Goldeboru quen, þat I wene:
So mikel loue was hem bitwene,
Þat al þe werd spak of hem two:
He louede hire, and she him so,
Þat neyþer oþer mithe be
For oþer, ne no ioie se,
But yf he were to-gidere boþe;
Neuere yete ne weren he wroþe,
For here loue was ay newe,
Neuere yete wordes ne grewe
Bitwene hem, hwar-of ne lathe
Mithe rise, ne no wrathe.

He geten children hem bi-twene
Sones and douthres rith fiuetene,
Hwar-of þe sones were kinges alle,
So wolde god it sholde bifalle;
And þe douhtres alle quenes:
Him stondes wel þat god child strenes.
Nu haue ye herd þe gest al þoru
Of hauelok and of goldeborw.
Hw he weren born, and hw fedde,
And hwou he woren with wronge ledde
In here youþe, with trecherie,
With tresoun, and with felounye,
And hwou þe swikes haueden thit
Reuen hem þat was here rith,
And hwou he weren wreken wel,
Haue ich sey you euerildel;

And forþi ich wolde biseken you,
Þat hauen herd þe rime nu,
Þat ilke of you, with gode wille,
Seye a pater-noster stille,
For him þat haueth þe ryme maked,
And þer-fore fele nihtes waked;
Þat ihesu crist his soule bringe
Bi-forn his fader at his endinge.

Amen.