Book I, lines 335–804

Quhen [that] tytan, withe his lusty heit,
Twenty dais In to the aryeit
Haith maid his courß, and all with diuerß hewis
Aparalit haith the feldis and the bewis;
The birdis amyd the erbis and the flouris,
And one the branchis, makyne gone thar bouris,
And be the morow singing in ther chere
Welcum to the lusty sessone of the ȝere.
In to this tyme the worthi conqueroure
Arthure, wich had of al this worlde the floure
Of cheuelry auerding to his crown,
So pasing war his knychtis in renoune,
Was at carlill; and hapynnit so that hee
Soiornyt well long in that faire cuntree.
In to whilk tyme In to the court thai heire
None awenture, for wich the knyghtis weire
Anoit all at the abiding thare.
For-why, beholding one the sobir ayre
And of the tyme the pasing lustynes,
Can so thir knyghtly hartis to encreß,
That thei shir kay one to the king haith sende,
Beseiching hyme he wold wichsaif to wende
To camelot the Cetee, whare that thei
Ware wont to heryng of armys day be day.
The king forsuth, heryng thare entent,
To thare desir, be schort awysment,
Ygrantid haith; and so the king proponit
And for to pas hyme one the morne disponit.
Bot so befell hyme [on] that nycht to meit
An aperans, the wich one to his spreit
It semyth that of al his hed ye hore
Of fallith and maid desolat; wharfore
The king therof was pensyve in his mynd,
That al the day he couth no resting fynde,
Wich makith hyme his Iorneye to delaye.
And so befell apone the thrid day,
The bricht sone, pasing in the west,
Haith maid his courß, and al thing goith to Rest;
The king, so as the story can dewyß,
He thoght aȝeine, apone the samyne wyß,
His vombe out fallith vith his hoil syde
Apone the ground, and liging hyme besid;
Throw wich anon out of his slep he stert,
Abasit and adred in to his hart.
The wich be morow one to the qwen he told,
And she aȝeine to hyme haith ansuer ȝolde;
“To dremys, sir, shuld no man have Respek,
For thei ben thingis weyn, of non affek.”
“Well,” quod the king, “god grant It so befall!”
Arly he roß, and gert one to hyme call
O clerk, to whome that al his hewynes
Tweching his drem shewith he expreß,
Wich ansuer yaf and seith one to the kinge;
“Shir, no Record lyith to such thing;
Wharfor now, shir, I praye yow tak no kep,
Nore traist in to the vanyteis of slep;
For thei are thingis that askith no credens,
But causith of sum maner influens,
Empriß of thoght, ore superfleuytee,
Or than sum othir casualytee.”
“Ȝit,” quod the king, “I sal nocht leif It so;”
And furth he chargit mesingeris to go
Throgh al his Realm, withouten more demande,
And bad them stratly at thei shulde comande
All the bishopes, and makyng no delay
The shuld appere be the tuenty day
At camelot, with al thar hol clergy
That most expert war, for to certefye
A mater tueching to his gost be nyght;
The mesag goith furth with the lettres Right.
The king eft sone, within a litill space,
His Iornay makith haith frome place to place,
Whill that he cam to camelot; and there
The clerkis all, as that the chargit were,
Assemblit war, and came to his presens,
Of his desir to viting the sentens.
To them that war to hyme most speciall
Furth his entent shauyth he al hall;
By whois conseil, of the worthiest
He chesith ten, yclepit for the best,
And most expert and wisest was supposit,
To qwhome his drem all hail he haith disclossit;
The houre, the nyght, and al the cercumstans;
Besichyne them that the signifycans
Thei wald hyme shaw, that he mycht resting fynde
Of It, the wich that occupeid his mynde.
And one of them with al ther holl assent
Saith, “shire, fore to declare our entent
Vpone this matere, ye wil ws delay
Fore to awysing one to the ix day.”
The king ther-to grantith haith, bot hee
In to o place, that strong was and hye,
He closith them, whare thei may no whare get,
Vn to the day, the wich he to them set.
Than goith the clerkis sadly to awyß
Of this mater, to seing in what wyß
The kingis drem thei shal best specefy.
And than the maistris of astronomy
The bookis longyne to ther artis set;
Not was the bukis of arachell forget,
Of nembrot, of danȝhelome, thei two,
Of moyses, and of herynes all soo;
And seking be ther calcolacioune
To fynd the planetis disposicioune,
The wich thei fond ware wonder ewill yset
The samyne nyght the king his sweuen met.
So ner the point socht thei have the thing,
Thei fond It wonder hewy to the king,
Of wich thing thei waryng in to were
To shew the king, for dreid of his danger.
Of ane accorde thei planly haue proponit
No worde to show, and so thei them disponit.
The day is cumyng, and he haith fore them sent,
Besichyne them to shewing ther entent.
Than spak they all, and that of an accorde;
“Shir, of this thing we can no thing Recorde,
For we can noght fynd in til our sciens
Tweching this mater ony ewydens.”
“Now,” quod the king, “and be the glorius lorde,
Or we depart ye shall sum thing recorde;
So pas yhe not, nor so It sall not bee.”
“Than,” quod the clerkis, “grant ws dais three.”
The wich he grantid them, and but delay,
The term passith, no thing wold the say,
Wharof the king stondith heuy cherith,
And to the clerkis his visag so apperith,
That all thei dred them of the kingis myght.
Than saith o clerk, “sir, as the thrid nyght
Ye dremyt, so [now] giffis ws delay
The thrid tyme, and to the thrid day.”
By whilk tyme thei fundyng haith the ende
Of this mater, als far as shal depend
To ther sciens; yit can thei not awyß
To schewing to the king be ony wyß.
The day is cum, the king haith them besocht,
But one no wyß thei wald declar ther thoght;
Than was he wroth in to his self and noyt,
And maid his wow that thei shal ben distroyt.
His baronis he commandit to gar tak
Fyve of them one to the fir-stak,
And vther fyue be to the gibbot tone;
And the furth with the kingis charg ar gone.
He bad them in to secret wyß that thei
Shud do no harm, but only them aßey.
The clarkis, dredful of the kingis Ire,
And saw the perell of deth and of the fyre,
Fyve, as thei can, has grantit to record;
That vther herde and ben of ther accorde;
And al thei ben yled one to the king,
And shew hyme thus as tueching of this thing.
“Shir, sen that we constrenyt ar by myght
To shaw that wich we knaw no thing aricht;
For thing to cum preseruith It allan
To hyme the wich is euery thing certañ,
Excep the thing that til our knawleg hee
Hath ordynat of certan for to bee;
Therfor, shir king, we your magnificens
Beseich It turne till ws to non offens,
Nor hald was nocht as learis, thoght It fall
Not in this mater, as that we telen shall.”
And that the king haith grantit them, and thei
Has chargit one, that one this wiß sall seye.
“Presumyth, shir, that we have fundyne so;
All erdly honore ye nedis most for-go,
And them the wich ye most affy in-tyll
Shal failye ȝow, magre of ther will;
And thus we haue in to this matere founde.”
The king, quhois hart was al wyth dred ybownd,
And askit at the clerkis, if thei fynde
By there clergy, that stant in ony kynde
Of possibilitee, fore to reforme
His desteny, that stud in such a forme;
If in the hewyne Is preordynat
On such o wiß his honor to translat.
The clerkis saith, “forsuth, and we haue sene
O thing whar-of, if we the trouth shal meñ,
Is so obscure and dyrk til our clergye,
That we wat not what It shal signefye,
Wich causith ws we can It not furth say.”
“Yis,” quod the king, “as lykith yow ye may,
For wers than this can nat be said for me.”
Thane saith o maistir, “than suthly thus finde we;
Thar is no thing sal sucour nor reskew,
Your worldly honore nedis most adew,
But throuch the watrye lyone and ek fyne,
On throuch the liche and ek the wattir syne,
And throuch the conseill of the flour; god wot
What this shude meñ, for mor ther-of we not.”
No word the king ansuerid ayane,
For al this resone thinkith bot in weyne.
He shawith outwart his contenans
As he therof takith no greuans;
But al the nyght it passid nat his thoght.
The dais courß with ful desir he socht,
And furth he goith to bring his mynd in rest
With mony O knyght vn to the gret forest;
The rachis gon wn-copelit for the deire,
That in the wodis makith nois and cheir:
The knychtis, with the grewhundis in aweit,
Secith boith the planis and the streit.
Doune goith the hart, doune goith the hynd also;
[In to the feld can rusching to and fro]
The swift grewhund, hardy of assay;
Befor ther hedis no thing goith away.
The king of hunting takith haith his sport,
And to his palace home he can Resort,
Ayan the noon; and as that he was set
Vith all his noble knyghtis at the met,
So cam ther in an agit knyght, and hee
Of gret esstat semyt for to bee;
Anarmyt all, as tho It was the gyß,
And thus the king he salust, one this wiß,
“Shir king, one to yow am y sende
Frome the worthiest that in world is kend,
That leuyth now of his tyme and age,
Of manhed, wisdome, and of hie curag,
Galiot, sone of the fare gyande;
And thus, at short, he bidis yow your londe
Ye yald hyme our, without Impedyment;
Or of hyme holde, and if tribut and rent.
This is my charge at short, whilk if youe lest
For to fulfill, of al he haith conquest
He sais that he most tendir shal youe hald.”
By short awys the king his ansuer yald;
“Shir knycht, your lorde wondir hie pretendis,
When he to me sic salutatioune sendis;
For I as yit, in tymys that ar gone,
Held neuer lond excep of god alone,
Nore neuer thinkith til erthly lord to yef
Trybut nor rent, als long as I may lef.”
“Well,” quod the knycht, “ful sor repentith me;
Non may recist the thing the wich mone bee.
To yow, sir king, than frome my lord am I
With diffyans sent, and be this resone why;
His purpos Is, or this day moneth day,
With all his ost, planly to assay
Your lond, with mony manly man of were,
And helmyt knychtis, boith with sheld and spere;
And neuer thinkith to retwrn home whill
That he this lond haith conquest at his will;
And ek vanour the quen, of whome that hee
Herith report of al this world that shee
In fairhed and in wertew doith excede,
He bad me say he thinkis to possede.”
“Schir,” quod the king, “your mesag me behufis
Of resone and of curtasy excusß;
But tueching to your lord and to his ost,
His powar [and] his mesag and his bost,
That pretendith my lond for to distroy,
Thar-of as ȝit tak I non anoye;
And say your lord one my behalf, when hee
Haith tone my lond, that al the world shal see
That It shal be magre myne entent.”
With that the knycht, withouten leif, is went,
And richt as he was pasing to the dure,
He saith, “a gode! what wykyt aduenture
Apperith!” with that his hors he nome,
Two knichtis kepit, waiting his outcome.
The knicht is gon, the king he gan Inquere
At gawan, and at other knychtis sere,
If that thei knew or euer hard recorde
Of galiot, and wharof he wes lorde;
And ther was non among his knychtis all
Which ansuerd o word in to the hall.
Than galygantynis of walys rase,
That trauelit in diuerß londis has,
In mony knychtly auentur haith ben;
And to the king he saith, “sir, I haue sen
Galiot, which is the farest knycht,
And hiest be half a fut one hycht,
That euer I saw, and ek his men accordith;
Hyme lakid nocht that to a lord recordith.
For visare of his ag is non than hee,
And ful of larges and humylytee;
An hart he haith of pasing hie curag,
And is not xxiiij ȝer of age,
And of his tyme mekil haith conquerit;
Ten kingis at his command ar sterit.
He vith his men so louit is, y geß,
That hyme to pleß is al ther besynes.
Not say I this, sir, in to ye entent
That he, nor none wnder the firmament,
Shal pouere haue ayane your maiestee;
And or thei shuld, this y sey for mee,
Rather I shall knychtly in to feild
Resaue my deith anarmyt wnder sheld.
This spek y lest;”--the king, ayan the morn,
Haith varnit huntaris baith with hund and horne,
And arly gan one to the forest ryd,
With mony manly knyghtis by his sid,
Hyme for to sport and comfort with the dere,
Set contrare was the sesone of y^e yere.
His most huntyng was atte wyld bore;
God wot a lustye cuntree was It thoore,
In the ilk tyme! weil long this noble king
In to this lond haith maid his suiornyng;
Frome the lady was send o mesinger
Of melyhalt, wich saith one this maner,
As that the story shewith by recorde:
“TO yow, sir king, as to hir soueran lorde,
My lady hath me chargit for to say
How that your lond stondith in affray;
For galiot, sone of the fare gyande,
Enterit Is by armys in your land,
And so the lond and cuntre he anoyth,
That quhar he goith planly he distroyth,
And makith al obeisand to his honde,
That nocht is left wnconquest in that lond,
Excep two castellis longing to hir cwre,
Wich to defend she may nocht long endure.
Wharfor, sir, in wordis plan and short,
Ye mon dispone your folk for to support.”
“Wel,” quod the king, “one to thi lady say
The neid is myne, I fall It not delay;
But what folk ar thei nemmyt for to bee,
That in my lond is cumyne in sich degree?”
“An hundreth thousand boith vith sheld and spere
On hors ar armyt, al redy for the were.”
“Wel,” quod the king, “and but delay this nycht,
Or than to morn as that the day is lycht,
I shal remuf; ther shal no thing me mak
Impedyment, my Iorney for to tak.”
Than seith his knychtis al with one assent,
“Shir, that is al contrare our entent;
For to your folk this mater is wnwist,
And ye ar here our few for to recist
Ȝone power, and youre cuntre to defende;
Tharfor abid, and for your folk ye send,
That lyk a king and lyk a weriour
Ye may susten in armys your honoure.”
“Now,” quod the king, “no langer that I ȝeme
My crowne, my septure, nor my dyademe,
Frome that I here, ore frome I wnderstand,
That ther by fors be entrit in my land
Men of armys, by strenth of vyolens,
If that I mak abid or resydens
In to o place langar than o nycht,
For to defend my cuntre and my rycht.”
The king that day his mesage haith furth sent
Throuch al his realme, and syne to rest is went.
Up goith the morow, wp goith the brycht day,
Wp goith the sone in to his fresh aray;
Richt as he spred his bemys frome northest,
The king wpraß withouten more arest,
And by his awn conseil and entent
His Iornaye tuk at short awysment.
And but dulay he goith frome place to place
Whill that he cam nere whare the lady was,
And in one plane, apone o reuer syde,
He lichtit doune, and ther he can abide;
And yit with hyme to batell fore to go
Vij thousand fechteris war thei, and no mo.
This was the lady, of qwhome befor I tolde,
That lancilot haith in to hir kepinge holde;
But for to tell his pasing hewynesse,
His peyne, his sorow, and his gret distresse
Of presone and of loues gret suppris,
It war to long to me for to dewys.
When he remembrith one his hewy charge
Of loue, wharof he can hyme not discharge,
He wepith and he sorowith in his chere,
And euery nyght semyth hyme o yere.
Gret peite was the sorow that he maad,
And to hyme-self apone this wiß he saade:
“Qwhat haue y gilt, allace! or qwhat deseruit?
That thus myne hart shal vondit ben and carwit
One by the suord of double peine and wo?
My comfort and my plesans is ago,
To me is nat that shuld me glaid reseruit.
I curß the tyme of myne Natiuitee,
Whar in the heuen It ordinyd was for me,
In all my lyue neuer til haue eeß;
But for to be example of diseß,
And that apperith that euery vicht may see.
Sen thelke tyme that I had sufficians
Of age, and chargit thoghtis sufferans,
Nor neuer I continewite haith o day
With-out the payne of thoghtis hard assay;
Thus goith my youth in tempest and penans.
And now my body is In presone broght;
But of my wo, that in Regard is noght,
The wich myne hart felith euer more.
O deth, allace! whi hath yow me forbore
That of remed haith the so long besoght!”
Thus neueremore he sesith to compleine,
This woful knyght that felith not bot peine;
So prekith hyme the smert of loues sore,
And euery day encressith more and more.
And with this lady takine is also,
And kepit whar he may no whare go
To haunt knychthed, the wich he most desirit;
And, thus his hart with dowbil wo yfirite,
We lat hyme duel here with the lady still,
Whar he haith laisere for to compleine his fyll.
And galiot in this meyne tyme he laie
By strong myght o castell to assay,
With many engyne and diuerß wais sere,
For of fute folk he had a gret powere
That bowis bur, and vther Instrumentis,
And with them lede ther palȝonis and ther tentis,
With mony o strong chariot and cher
With yrne qwhelis and barris long and sqwar;
Well stuffit with al maner apparell
That longith to o sege or to batell;
Whar-with his ost was closit al about,
That of no strenth nedith hyme to dout.
And when he hard the cumyne of the king,
And of his ost, and of his gaderyng,
The wich he reput but of febil myght
Ayanis hyme for to susten the ficht,
His consell holl assemblit he, but were,
Ten knightis with other lordis sere,
And told theme of the cuming of the king,
And askit them there consell of that thing.
Hyme thoght that it his worschip wold degrade,
If he hyme self in propir persone raide
Enarmyt ayane so few menye
As It was told arthur[is] fore to bee;
And thane the kyng-An-hundereth-knychtis cold,
(And so he hot, for neuermore he wolde
Ryd of his lond, but In his cumpany
O hundyre knyghtis ful of chiuellry).
He saith, “shir, ande I one hond [may] tak,
If It you pleß, this Iorney shal I mak.”
Quod galiot, “I grant It yow, but ye
Shal first go ryd, yone knychtis ost and see.”
With-outen more he ridith our the plan,
And saw the ost and is returnyd ayañ;
And callit them mo than he hade sen, for why
He dred the reprefe of his cumpany.
And to his lord apone this wys saith hee,
“Shir, ten thousand y ges them for to bee.”
And galiot haith chargit hyme to tak
Als fell folk, and for the feld hyme mak.
And so he doith and haith them wel Arayt;
Apone the morne his banaris war displayt.
Up goth the trumpetis with the clariounis,
Ayaine the feld blawen furth ther sownis,
Furth goth this king with al his ost anon.
Be this the word wes to king arthur gone,
That knew no thing, nor wist of ther entent,
But sone his folk ar one to armys went;
But arthur by Report hard saye
How galiot non armys bur that day,
Wharfor he thoght of armys nor of sheld
None wald he tak, nor mak hyme for the feld.
But gawane haith he clepit, was hyme by,
In qwhome Rignith the flour of cheuelry;
And told one what maner, and one what wyß
He shuld his batelles ordand and dewys;
Beseching hyme, [hyme] wisly to for-see
Aȝaine thei folk, wich was far mo than hee.
He knew the charg and passith one his way
Furth to his horß, and makith no dulay;
The clariounis blew and furth goth al onoñ,
And our ye watter and the furd ar goñe.
Within o playne vpone that other syd
Ther gawan gon his batellis to dewide,
As he wel couth, and set them in aray,
Syne with o manly contynans can say,
“Ye falowis wich of the round table beñ,
Through al this erth whois fam is hard and sen,
Remembrith now It stondith one the poynt,
For why It lyith one your speris poynt,
The well-fare of the king and of our londe;
And sen the sucour lyith in your honde,
And hardement is thing shall most awaill
Frome deth ther men of armys in bataill,
Lat now your manhed and your hie curage
The pryd of al thir multitude assuage;