Book I (continued), lines 805–1274

Deth or defence, non other thing we wot.”
This fresch king, that maleginis was hot,
With al his ost he cummyne our the plañ,
And gawan send o batell hyme agañ;
In myde the borde, and festinit in the stell
The sperithis poynt, that bitith scharp and well;
Bot al to few thei war, and mycht nocht lest
This gret Rout that cummyth one so fast.
Than haith sir gawan send, them to support,
One othir batell with one knychtly sorte;
And syne the thrid, and syne the ferde also;
And syne hyme-self one to the feld can go,
When that he sauch thar latter batell steir,
And the ten thousand cummyne al thei veir;
Qwhar that of armes prewit he so well,
His ennemys gane his mortall [strokis] fell.
He goith ymong them in his hie curage,
As he that had of knyghthed the wsage,
And couth hyme weill conten in to on hour;
Aȝaine his strok resistit non armour;
And mony knycht, that worth ware and bolde,
War thore with hyme of arthuris houshold,
And knyghtly gan one to the feld them bere,
And mekil wroght of armys In to were;
Sir gawan than vpone such wyß hyme bure,
This othere goith al to discumfitoure;
Sewyne thousand fled, and of the feld thei go,
Whar-of this king in to his hart was wo,
For of hyme self he was of hie curage.
To galiot than send he in mesag,
That he shuld help his folk for to defende;
And he to hyme hath xxx^te thousand sende;
Whar-of this king gladith in his hart,
And thinkith to Reweng all the smart
That he to-for haith suffirit and the payne.
And al his folk returnyt Is ayayne
Atour the feld, and cummyne thilk as haill;
The swyft horß goith first to the assall.
This noble knyght that seith the grete forß
Of armyt men, that cummyne vpone horß,
To-giddir semblit al his falowschip,
And thoght them at the sharp poynt to kep,
So that thar harm̅ shal be ful deir yboght.
This vthere folk with straucht courß hath socht
Out of aray atour the larg felld;
Thar was the strokis festnit in the shelde,
Thei war Resauit at the speris end.
So arthuris folk can manfully defend;
The formest can thar lyues end conclude,
Whar sone assemblit al the multitude.
Thar was defens, ther was gret assaill,
Richt wonderfull and strong was y^e bataill,
Whar arthuris folk sustenit mekil payn,
And knychtly them defendit haith aȝaine.
Bot endur thei mycht, apone no wyß,
The multitude and ek the gret suppriß;
But gawan, wich that setith al his payn
Vpone knyghthed, defendid so aȝaine,
That only in the manhede of this knyght
His folk reIosit them of his gret myght,
And ek abasit hath his ennemys;
For throw the feld he goith in such wyß,
And in the preß so manfully them seruith,
His suerd atwo the helmys al to-kerwith,
The hedis of he be the shouderis smat;
The horß goith, of the maister desolat.
But what awaleth al his besynes,
So strong and so insufferable vas the preß?
His folk are passit atour the furdis ilkon,
Towart ther bretis and to ther luges gon;
Whar he and many worthy knyght also
Of arthuris houß endurit mekill wo,
That neuer men mar in to armys vroght
Of manhed, ȝit was It al for noght.
Thar was the strenth, ther was the pasing myght
Of gawan, wich that whill the dirk nyght
Befor the luges faucht al hyme aloñ,
When that his falowis entrit ware ilkoñ,
On arthuris half war mony tan and slan;
And galotis folk Is hame returnyd aȝaine,
For it was lait; away the ostis ridith,
And gawan ȝit apone his horß abidith,
With suerd in hond, when thei away var gon,
And so for-wrocht hys lymmys ver ilkon,
And wondit ek his body vp and doune,
Vpone his horß Right thore he fel in swoune;
And thei hyme tuk and to his lugyne bare,
Boith king and qwen of hyme vare in dispare;
For thei supposit, throw marwellis that he vroght,
He had hyme-self to his confusioune broght.
This was nere by of melyhalt, the hyll,
Whar lanscelot ȝit was with the lady still.
The knychtis of the court [can] pasing hom̅e;
This ladiis knychtis to hir palice com,
And told to hir, how that the feld was vent,
And of gawan, and of his hardyment,
That merwell was his manhed to behold;
And sone thir tithingis to the knycht vas told,
That was with wo and hewyness opprest;
So noyith hyme his suiorne and his rest,
And but dulay one for o knycht he send,
That was most speciall with the lady kend.
He comyne, and the knycht vn to hyme said,
“Displeß yow not, sir, be ȝhe not ill paid,
So homly thus I yow exort to go,
To gare my lady spek o word or two
With me, that am a carful presonere.”
“Sir, your commande y shall, withouten were,
Fulfill;” and to his lady passit hee
In lawly wyß besiching hir, that she
Wald grant hyme to pas at his request,
Vnto hir knycht, stood wnder hir arest;
And she, that knew al gentilleß aright,
Furth to his chamber passit wight the licht.
And he aroß and salust Curtasly
The lady, and said, “madem, her I,
Your presoner, besekith yow that ȝhe
Wold mersy and compassione have of me,
And mak the ransone wich that I may yeif;
I waist my tyme in presoune thus to leife.
For why I her on be report be told,
That arthur, with the flour of his housholde,
Is cummyne here, and in this cuntre lyis,
And stant In danger of his ennemyis,
And haith assemblit; and eft this shalt bee
Within short tyme one new assemblee.
Thar-for, my lady, y youe grace besech,
That I mycht pas, my Ranson for to fech;
Fore I presume thar longith to that sort
That louid me, and shal my nede support.”
“Shire knycht, It stant nocht in sich dugree;
It is no ransone wich that causith me
To holden yow, or don yow sich offens;
It is your gilt, It is your wiolens,
Whar-of that I desir no thing but law,
Without report your awñ trespas to knaw.”
“Madem, your plesance may ye wel fulfill
Of me, that am in presone at your will.
Bot of that gilt, I was for til excuß,
For that I did of werrey nede behwß,
It tuechit to my honore and my fame;
I mycht nocht lefe It but hurting of my nam,
And ek the knycht was mor to blam than I.
But ye, my lady, of your curtessy,
Wold ȝe deden my Ransoune to resaue,
Of presone so I my libertee myght haue,
Y ware ȝolde euermore [to be] your knyght,
Whill that I leif, with al my holl myght.
And if so be ye lykith not to ma
My ransone, [madem,] if me leif to ga
To the assemble, wich sal be of new;
And as that I am feithful knycht and trew,
At nycht to yow I enter shall aȝaine,
But if that deth or other lat certañ,
Throw wich I [may] have such Impediment,
That I be hold, magre myne entent.”
“Sir knycht,” quod she, “I grant yow leif, withthy
Your name to me that ȝe wil specify.”
“Madem, as ȝit, sutly I ne may
Duclar my name, one be no maner way;
But I promyt, als fast as I haue tyme
Conuenient, or may vith-outen cryme,
I shall;” and than the lady saith hyme tyll,
“And I, schir knycht, one this condiscione will
Grant yow leve, so that ye oblist bee
For to Return, as ye haue said to me.”
Thus thei accord, the lady goith to rest,
The sone discending closit in the vest;
The ferd day was dewysit for to bee
Betuex the ostis of the assemblee.
And galiot Richt arly by the day,
Ayane the feld he can his folk aray;
And fourty thousand armyt men haith he,
That war not at the othir assemble,
Commandit to the batell for to gon;
“And I my-self,” quod he, “shal me dispone
On to the feild aȝaine the thrid day;
Whar of this were we shal the end assay.”
ANd arthuris folk that come one euery syd,
He for the feld can them for to prouide,
Wich ware to few aȝaine the gret affere
Of galiot ȝit to susten the were.
The knychtis al out of the cete roß
Of melyholt, and to the semble gois.
And the lady haith, in to sacret wyß,
Gart for hir knycht and presoner dewyß
In red al thing, that ganith for the were;
His curseir red, so was boith scheld and spere.
And he, to qwham the presone hath ben smart,
With glaid desir apone his cursour start;
Towart the feld anon he gan to ryd,
And in o plan houit one reuer syde.
This knycht, the wich that long haith ben in cag,
He grew in to o fresch and new curage,
Seing the morow blythfull and amen,
The med, the Reuer, and the vodis gren,
The knychtis in [ther] armys them arayinge,
The baneris ayaine the feld displayng,
His ȝouth in strenth and in prosperytee,
And syne of lust the gret aduersytee.
Thus in his thocht remembryng at the last,
Efterward one syd he gan his Ey to cast,
Whar our a bertes lying haith he sen
Out to the feld luking was the qwen;
Sudandly with that his gost astart
Of loue anone haith caucht hyme by the hart;
Than saith he, “How long shall It be so,
Loue, at yow shall wirk me al this wo?
Apone this wyß to be Infortunat,
Hir for to serue the wich thei no thing wate
What sufferance I in hir wo endure,
Nor of my wo, nor of myne aduenture?
And I wnworthy ame for to attane
To hir presens, nor dare I noght complane.
Bot, hart, sen at yow knawith she is here,
That of thi lyue and of thi deith is stere,
Now is thi tyme, now help thi-self at neid,
And the dewod of euery point of dred,
That cowardy be none In to the señ,
Fore and yow do, yow knowis thi peyne, I weyn;
Yow art wnable euer to attane
To hir mercy, or cum be ony mayne.
Tharfor y red hir thonk at yow disserue,
Or in hir presens lyk o knycht to sterf.”
With that confusit with an hewy thocht,
Wich ner his deith ful oft tyme haith hyme socht,
Deuoydit was his spritis and his gost,
He wist not of hyme-self nor of his ost;
Bot one his horß, als still as ony ston.
When that the knychtis armyt war ilkon,
To warnnyng them vp goith the bludy sown,
And euery knyght vpone his horß is bown;
Twenty thousand armyt men of were.
The king that day he wold non armys bere;
His batellis ware devysit euerilkon,
And them forbad out our the furdis to gon.
Bot frome that thei ther ennemys haith sen,
In to such wys thei couth them noght susteñ;
Bot ovr thei went vithouten more delay,
And can them one that oyer sid assay.
The red knycht still in to his hewy thoght
Was hufyng ȝit apone the furd, and noght
Wist of hime self; with that a harrold com,
And sone the knycht he be the brydill nom,
Saying, “awalk! It is no tyme to slep;
Your worschip more expedient vare to kep.”
No word he spak, so prikith hyme the smart
Of hevynes, that stood vnto his hart.
Two screwis cam with that, of quhich [that] oñ
The knychtis sheld rycht frome his hals haith toñ;
That vthir watter takith atte last,
And in the knychtis wentail haith It cast;
When that he felt the vatter that vas cold,
He wonk, and gan about hyme to behold,
And thinkith how he sum-quhat haith mysgoñ.
With that his spere In to his hand haith ton,
Goith to the feild withouten vordis more;
So was he vare whare that there cam before,
O manly man he was in to al thing,
And clepit was the ferst-conquest king.
The Red knycht with [the] spuris smat the sted,
The tother cam, that of hyme hath no drede;
With ferß curag ben the knychtis met,
The king his spere apone the knycht hath set,
That al in peciß flaw in to the felde;
His hawbrek helpit, suppos he had no scheld.
And he the king in to the scheld haith ton,
That horß and man boith to the erd ar gon.
Than to the knycht he cummyth, that haith tan
His sheld, to hyme deliuerith It ayane,
Besiching hyme that of his Ignorance,
That knew hyme nat, as takith no grewance.
The knycht his sche[l]d but mor delay haith tak,
And let hyme go, and no thing to hyme spak.
Than thei the wich that so at erth haith sen
Ther lord, the ferst-conquest king, y meñ,
In haist thei cam, as that thei var agrevit,
And manfully thei haith ther king Releuit.
And Arthuris folk, that lykith not to byde,
In goith the spuris in the stedis syde;
To-giddir thar assemblit al the ost:
At whois meting many o knycht was lost.
The batell was richt crewell to behold,
Of knychtis wich that haith there lyvis ȝolde.
One to the hart the spere goith throw the scheld,
The knychtis gaping lyith in the feld.
The red knycht, byrnyng in loues fyre,
Goith to o knycht, als swift as ony vyre,
The wich he persit throuch and throuch the hart;
The spere is went; with that anon he start,
And out o suerd in to his hond he tais;
Lyk to o lyone in to the feld he gais,
In to his Rag smyting to and fro
Fro sum the arm, fro sum the nek in two,
Sum in the feild lying is in swoun,
And sum his suerd goith to the belt al douñe.
For qwhen that he beholdith to the qwen,
Who had ben thore his manhed to haue sen,
His doing in to armys and his myght,
Shwld say in world war not such o wight.
His falouschip siche comfort of his dede
Haith ton, that thei ther ennemys ne dreid;
But can them-self ay manfoly conten
In to the stour, that hard was to susten;
For galyot was O pasing multitude
Of prewit men in armys that war gude,
The wich can with o fresch curag assaill
Ther ennemys that day In to batell;
That ne ware not the vorschip and manhede
Of the red knycht, in perell and in dreid
Arthuris folk had ben, vith-outen vere;
Set thei var good, thei var of smal powere.
And gawan, wich gart bryng hyme-self befor
To the bertes, set he was vondit sore,
Whar the qwen vas, and whar that he mycht see
The manere of the ost and assemble;
And when that he the gret manhed haith sen
Of the red knycht, he saith one to the qwen,
“Madem, ȝone knyght in to the armys Rede,
Nor neuer I hard nore saw in to no sted
O knycht, the wich that in to schortar space
In armys haith mor forton nore mor grace;
Nore bettir doith boith with sper and scheild,
He is the hed and comfort of our feild.”
“Now, sir, I traist that neuer more vas sen
No man in feild more knyghtly hyme conten;
I pray to hyme that euery thing hath cure,
Saif hyme fro deth or wykit aduenture.”
The feild It was rycht perellus and strong
On boith the sydis, and continewit long,
Ay from the sone the varldis face gan licht
Whill he was gone and cumyne vas the nycht;
And than o forß thei mycht It not asstart,
On euery syd behouit them depart.
The feild is don and ham goith euery knycht,
And prevaly, unwist of any wicht,
The way the red knycht to the cete taiis,
As he had hecht, and in his chambre gais.
When arthure hard how the knycht Is gon,
He blamyt sore his lordis euerilk-one;
And oft he haith remembrit in his thoght,
What multitud that galiot had broght;
Seing his folk that ware so ewil arayt,
In to his mynd he stondith al affrayt,
And saith, “I traist ful suth It sal be founde
My drem Richt as the clerkis gan expounde;
For why my men failȝeis now at neid,
My-self, my londe, in perell and in dreide.”
And galiot vpone hie worschip set,
And his consell anon he gart be fet,
To them he saith, “with arthur weil ȝe see
How that It stant, and to qwhat degre,
Aȝanis ws that he is no poware;
Wharfor, me think, no worschip to ws ware
In conqueryng of hyme, nor of his londe,
He haith no strenth, he may ws not vithstonde.
Wharfor, me think It best is to delay,
And resput hyme for a tuelmoñeth day,
Whill that he may assemble al his myght;
Than is mor worschip aȝanis hyme to ficht;”
And thus concludit thoght hyme for the best.
The very knychtis passing to there Rest;
Of melyholt the ladeis knychtis ilkone
Went home, and to hir presens ar thei gon;
At qwhome ful sone than gan scho to Inquere,
And al the maner of the ostis till spere;
How that It went, and in what maner wyß,
Who haith most worschip, and who is most to pryß?
“Madem,” quod thei, “O knycht was In the feild,
Of Red was al his armour and his sheld,
Whois manhed can al otheris to exced,
May nan report in armys half his deid;
Ne wor his worschip, shortly to conclud,
Our folk of help had ben al destitud.
He haith the thonk, the vorschip in hyme lyis,
That we the feld defendit in sich wyß.”
The lady thane one to hir-self haith thocht,
“Whether Is ȝone my presonar, ore noght?
The suthfastneß that shal y wit onon.”
When euery wight vn to ther Rest war gon,
She clepith one hir cwsynes ful nere
Wich was to hir most speciall and dere,
And saith to hir, “qwheyar if yone bee
Our presoner, my consell Is we see.”
With that the maden In hir hand hath ton
O torche, and to the stabille ar thei gon;
And fond his sted lying at the ground,
Wich wery was, ywet with mony wounde.
The maden saith, “vpone this horß is sen,
He in the place quhar strokis was hath beñ;
And ȝhit the horß It is nocht wich that hee
Furth with hyme hade;”--the lady said, “per dee,
He vsyt haith mo horß than one or two;
I red one to his armys at we go.”
Tharwith one to his armys ar thei went;
Thei fond his helm, thei fond his hawbrek rent,
Thei fond his scheld was fruschit al to nocht;
At schort, his armour In sich wyß vas vrocht
In euery place, that no thing was left haill,
Nore neuer eft accordith to bataill.
Than saith the lady to hir cusyneß,
“What sal we say, what of this mater geß?”
“Madem, I say, thei have nocht ben abwsyt;
He that them bur schortly he has them vsyt.”
“That may ȝe say, suppos the best that lewis,
Or most of worschip in til armys prewis,
Or ȝhit haith ben in ony tyme beforñ,
Had them in feld in his mast curag borñ.”
“Now,” quod the lady, “will we paß, and see
The knycht hyme-self, and ther the suth may we
Knaw of this thing.” Incontynent them boith
Thir ladeis vn to his chambre goith.
The knycht al wery fallyng was on slep;
This maden passith In, and takith kep.
Sche sauch his brest with al his schowderis bare,
That bludy war and woundit her and thare;
His face was al to-hurt and al to-schent,
His newis swellyng war and al to-Rent.
Sche smylyt a lyt, and to hir lady said,
“It semyth weill this knycht hath ben assaid.”
The lady sauch, and rewit in hir thoght
The knychtis worschip wich that he haith vroght.
In hire Remembrance loues fyre dart
With hot desyre hir smat one to the hart;
And then a quhill, with-outen wordis mo,
In to hir mynd thinking to and fro,
She studeit so, and at the last abraid
Out of hir thocht, and sudandly thus said,
“With-draw,” quod she, “one syd a lyt the lyght,
Or that I paß that I may kyß the knyght.”
“Madem,” quod sche, “what is It at ȝe meñ?
Of hie worschip our mekill have ȝe señ
So sone to be supprisit with o thoght.
What is It at ȝhe think? preswm ȝe noght
That if yon knycht wil walkin, and persaif,
He shal yarof no thing bot ewill consaif;
In his entent Ruput yow therby
The ablare to al lychtneß and foly?
And blam the more al vtheris in his mynd,
If your gret wit in sich desire he fynde?”
“Nay,” quod the lady, “no thing may I do
For sich o knycht may be defam me to.”
“Madem, I wot that for to loue yone knycht,
Considir his fame, his worschip, and his mycht;
And to begyne as worschip wil dewyß,
Syne he ayaine mycht lowe yow one such wyß,
And hold yow for his lady and his loue,
It war to yow no maner of Reprwe.
But quhat if he appelit be and thret
His hart to lowe, and ellis whar y-set?
And wel y wot, madem, if It be so,
His hart hyme sal not suffir to loue two,
For noble hart wil have no dowbilneß;
If It be so, ȝhe tyne yowr low, I geß;
Than is your-self, than is your loue Refusit,
Your fam is hurt, your gladneß is conclusit.
My consell is, therfore, you to absten
Whill that to yow the werray Rycht be señ
Of his entent, the wich ful son ȝhe may
Have knawlag, If yow lykith to assay.”
So mokil to hir lady haith she vroght
That at that tyme she haith Returnyt hir thocht,
And to hir chambre went, withouten more,
Whar loue of new assaith hir ful sore.
So well long thei speking of the knycht,
Hir cusynace hath don al at she mycht
For to expel that thing out of hir thocht;
It wil not be, hir labour Is for nocht.
Now leif we hir In to hir newest pan,
And to arthur we wil retwrn agañ.