Lines 481–960

The dwerk Teondeleyn
Tok the stede be the rayne,
And lep ynto the arsoun :
And rod hym also sket
Ther that the mayde set.
That was fayr of fasoun,
Tho lough that mayde bryght.
And seyde Thys yonge knyght,
Ys chose for champyon.
The myddell brother com yerne,
Upon a stede sterne,
Egre as lyoun,

Hym thoghte hys body wold berne.
But he myght also yerne
Fell Lybeaus adoun.
As werrour out of wytte,
Lybeaus on helm he smyt.
With a fell fachoun,
Hys strok so hard he set,
Thorgh helm and basnet,
That sword tochede hys croun.
Tho was Lybeaus agreved,
Whan he feld on hedde
That sword with egre mode,

Hys brond abowte he wevede,
All that he hyt he clevede.
As werrour wyld and wode.
Alias, he seyde tho,
Oon ayens two
To fyghte that ys good.
Wei faste they smyte to hym,
And he wyth strokes grym.
Well harde ayens hem stode.
Tho sawe these knyghtes,
They ne hadde no myghtes
To feghte ayens her fo.

To syr Lybeaus they gon up-yelde
Bothe har sperys and har schelde,
And mercy cryde hym tho.
Lybeaus answerede. Nay,
The ne askapeth so away,
Be god that schop mankende ;
Thou and thy brederen tway
Schull plyght her your fay.
To kyng Artour to wende ;
And sey. Lord of renounes.
As overcome and prysouns,
A knyght us hyder gan sende.

To dwelle yn your bandown,
And yelde you tour and toun,
Ay wythouten ende.
And but ye wyllen tho so
Sertes y schall you slo,
Er than hyt be nyght ;
The knyghtes sweren tho
They wolde to Artour go.
And trewes ther they plyght.
Thus departede day,
Lybeaus and that may,
As they hadden tyght ;

Tyll the thyrde day
They ryde yn game and play,
He and that mayde bryght :
And ever they ryden west.
In that wylde forest.
Toward Synadowne ;
They nyste what ham was best
Taken they wolde reste.
And myght not come to toun ;
A logge they dyghte of leves,
In the grene greves.
With swordes bryght and broune ;

Therinne they dwellede all nyght.
He and that mayde bryght.
That was so fayr of fasoun ;
And the dwerk gan wake.
For noo thef ne schuld take
Har hors away with gyle ;
For drede he gan to quake,
For gret fer he sawe make
Thannes half a myle.
Arys, he seyde, yong knyght,
To horse that thou wer ydyght.
For dowte of peryle ;

For y here greet bost.
And fer smelle rost.
Be god and seynt Gyle.
Lybeaus was stout and fer.
And lepte on hys destrer,
Hente schelde and spere ;
And rod toward the fyer,
And whanne he nyghede ner,
Two geauntes he saw ther.
That on was red and lothlych,
And that other swart as pych,
Grysly bothe of chere ;

That oon held yn hys barme
A mayde yclepte yn hys arme.
As bryght as blosle on brere.
The rede geaunt sterne
A wylde boor gan terne
Abowte upon a spyte ;
That fyer bryght gan berne,
The mayde cryde yerne
That som man schuld her ther wete:
And seyde, Wellaway !
That ever y bode thys day,
With two fendes to sette !

Now help, Marie mylde.
For love of thy chylde,
That y be naght foryette !
Than seyde Lybeaus, Be seynt Jame,
To save thys mayde fro schame
Hyt wer a fayr apryse ;
To fyght with bothe yn same
Hyt wer no chyldes game,
That beth so grymme and gryse.
He tok hys cours wyth schafte.
As knyght of kende crafte.
And rod be ryght asyse ;

The blake geaunt he smot smert,
Thorgh the lyver, longe, and herte.
That never he myghte aryse.
Tho flawe that mayde schene,
And thankede hevene quene.
That swych socour her sente ;
Tho com that mayde Elene,
Sche and her dwerk y mene.
And be the hond her hente ;
And ladde her ynto the greves,
Into that logge of leves,
Wyth well good talent ;

And prayde swete Jhesus,
Helpe Lybeaus desconus,
That he wer naght yschent.
The rede geaunt there
Smot to Lybeaus wyth the bore.
As man that wold awede ;
The strokes he sette so sore.
That hys cursere therfore,
Deed to grounde yede.
Lybeaus was redy boun,
And lepte out of the arsoun,
As sperk thogh out of glede ;

And egre as a lyoun,
He faught wyth hys fachoun,
To quite the geauntes mede.
The geaunt ever faught,
And at the seconde draught,
Hys spyte brak a two ;
A tre yn honde he kaught.
As a man that wer up-sawght
To fyghte ayens hys fo.
And wyth the ende of the tre
He smot Lybeaus scheld a thre,
And the was Lybeaus well wo ;

And er he eft the tre up haf,
A strok Lybeaus hym yaf,
Hys ryght arm fell hym fro.
The geaunt fell to grounde
Lybeaus that ylke stounde
Smot of hys hedde ryght
Hym that he yaf er wounde
In that ylke stounde.
He servede so aplyght.
He tok the heddes two,
And yaf hem the mayden tho.
That he hadde fore that fyght ;

The mayde was glad and blythe.
And thonkede god fele syde
That ever was he made knyght.
Then seyde Lybeaus, Gentyl dame,
Tell me what ys thy name,
And wher thou wer ybore.
Sche seyde, Be seynt Jame,
My fader ys of ryche name,
Woneth her before.
An erl, an hold hore knyght.
That hath be a man of myght,
Hys name ys syr Autore ;

Men clepeth me Vyolette,
For me these geauntes besette
Our castell full yore.
Yesterday yn the mornynge
Y wente on my playnge,
And noon evell ne thoughte,
The geauntes, wythout lesynge.
Out of a kave gonne sprynge.
And to thys fyer me brought.
Of hem y hedde ben yschent,
Ne god me socour hadde y sent,
That all thys world wrought ;

He yeldede thys good dede
That for us gan blede,
And wyth hys blod us bought.
Without ony more talkynge
To horse they gon sprynge.
And ryde forth all yn same ;
He tolde the erl tydynge
How he wan yn fyghtynge
Hys chyld fram wo and schame.
The two heddes wer ysent
Artour the kyng to present.
With mochell gle and game ;

Thanne ferst yn court aros
Lybeaus desconus los,
And hys gentyll fame.
The erl Autore also blyve
Profrede hys doftyr hym to wyve, '
Vyolette that may ;
And kasteles ten and fyve
And all after hys lyve
Hys lond to have for ay.
Than seyde Lybeaus desconois,
Be the love of swete Jhesus,
Naught wyve yet y ne may ;

I have for to wende
Wyth thys mayde so hende.
And therefore have good day.
The erl, for hys good dede,
Yaf hym ryche wede,
Scheld and armes brycht ;
And also a noble stede.
That doughty was of dede,
In batayle and yn fyght.
They ryde forth all thre
Toward the fayre cyte,
Kardevyle for soth hyt hyght ;

Thanne sawe they yn a park
A castell stout and stark,
That ryally was adyght.
Swych saw they never non,
Imade of lyme and ston,
Ikarneled all abowte ;
Oo, seyde Lybeaus, be seynt Jon,
Her wer a wordly won
For man that wer yn dowte.
Tho logh that mayde bryght,
And seyde hyt owyth a knyght
The beste her abowte ;

Ho that wyll wyth hym fyght.
Be hyt be day other nyght.
He doth hym lowe lowte.
For love of hys lemman,
That ys so fayr a woman.
He hath do crye and grede ;
Ho that bryngeth a fayryr oon,
A jerfaukon whyt as swan
He schall have to made.
Yef sche ys naght so bryght,
Wyth Gyfroun he mot fyght,
And ye may not spede ;

Hys hed schall of be raft.
And sette upon a sper schaft.
To se yn lengthe and brede.
And that thou mayst se full well
Ther stant yn ech a karnell
An hed other two upryght ;
Than seyde Lybeaus also snell,
Be god and seynt Mychell,
Wyth Gyffroun y schall fyght ;
And chalaunge the jerfawncon.
And sey that y have yn this toun,
A lemman to so bryght ;

And yef he her wyll se,
I wyll hym schewy the,
Be day other be nycht.
The dwerk seyde. Be Jhesus,
Gentyll Lybeaus desconus.
That wer a greet peryle,
Syr Gyffroun le flowdous
In fyghtyng he hath an us
Knyghtes to begyle.
Lybeaus answerede thar
Therof have thou no kar ;
Be god and be seynt Gyle,

I woll yse hys face
Er y westward pace
From thys cyte a myle.
Wythoute a more resoune
They tok har [yn] the toune.
And dwellede stylle yn pese ;
A morn Lybeaus was boun
For to wynne renoun,
And ros, wythoute les :
And armede hym full sure.
In that selve armure
That erl Autores was ;

Hys stede he began stryde,
The dwerk rod hym besyde,
Toward that prowde palys.
Syr Gyffroun le fludous
Aros as was hys uus.
In the morn-tyde ;
And whan he com out of hys hous,
He saw Lybeaus desconus
Com prykynde as pryns yn pryde,
Wythoute a more abood
And ayens hym he rod,
And thus to hym he cryde,

Wyth voys that was schrylle ;
Comyst thou for good, other for ylle ?
Tell me, and naght me hyde.
Than seyde Lybeaus al so tyte.
For y have greet delyte
Wyth the for to fyght ;
For thou scyst greet despyte
That woman half so whyt,
As thy lemman be ne myght ;
And y have on yn toune,
Fayryr of fassyoune.
In clothes whan sche ys dyght ;

Therfore thy gerfawcoun
To Artour the kyng wyth kroun
Bryng y schall wyth ryght.
Than seyde Gyfroun, Gentyll knyght,
How scholl we preve thys syght,
Whych of hem fayrer be ?
Lybeaus answerede aplyght.
In Cardevyle cyte ryght,
Ther ech man may hem se :
And bothe they schull be sette
A myddes the market.
To loke on bothe bond and fre ;

Yf my lemman ys broun,
To Wynne the gerfawcoun
Fyghte y wyll wyth the.
Than seyde Gyfroun, al so snell,
To all thys y graunte well,
Thys day at underne-tyde ;
Be god and be seynt Mychell,
Out of thys castell
To Karlof y schall ryde.
Har gloves up they held,
In forward as y teld.
As princes prowde yn pryde ;

Syr Lybeaus al so snell
Rod hom to hys castell.
No lenger he nolde abyde ;
And commande mayde Elene,
As semelekest on to sene,
Buske her and make her boun :
" I say, be hevene quene,
Gyffrouns lemman schene
This day schall come to toun :
And bothe men you schall yse,
A mydward the cyte.
Both body and fasoun ;

Yef thou be naght so bryght,
Wyth Gyffroun y mot fyght, .
To Wynne the Gerfaucoun."
Mayde Elene al so tyte.
In a robe of samyte
Anoon sche gan her tyre,
To tho Lybeaus profyte
In kevechers whyt,
Arayde wyth gold wyre.
A velvwet mantyll gay,
Pelvred wyth grys and gray,
Sche caste abowte her swyre,

A sercle upon her molde,
Of stones and of golde.
The best yn that enpyre.
Upon a pomely palfray
Lybeaus sette that may.
And ryden forth all thre ;
Thanne ech man gan to say.
Her Cometh a lady gay.
And semelych on to se.
Into the market sche rode,
And hovede and abode,
A mydward the cyte ;

Than sygh they Gyffroun come ryde.
And two squyeres be hys syde,
Wythout a more mayne.
He bar the scheld of goules.
Of sylver thre whyte oules.
Of gold was the bordure,
Of the selve colours.
And of non other flowres,
Was lyngell and trappure.
Hys squyer gan lede
Before hym upon a stede
Thre schaftes good and sure ;

That other bar redy boun
The whyte gerfawcoun,
That leyd was to wajour.
After hym com ryde
A lady proud yn pryde,
Was clodeth yn purpel palle ;
That folk com fer and wyde
To se her bak and syde,
How gentyll sche was and small.
Her mantyll was rosyne,
Pelvred with ermyne.
Well ryche and reall ;

A sercle upon her molde.
Of stones and of golde,
Wyth many a juall.
As the rose her robe was red,
The her sehon on hyr heed,
As gold wyre schyneth bryght ;
Ayder browe as selken threde,
Abowte yn lengthe and yn brede,
Hyr nose was strath and ryght.
Her eyen gray as glas,
Melk-whyt was her face.
So seyde that her sygh wyth syght ;

Her swere long and small.
Her beawte telle all
No man wyth mouth ne myght.
Togedere men gon hem bryng
A mydward the chepyng,
Har beawte to dyscrye ;
They seyde, olde and yenge,
For soth wythoute lesyng,,
Betwene hem was partye.
Gyffrouns lemman ys clere
As ys the rose yn erbere.
For soth and naght to lye ;

And Elene, the messengere,
Semeth but a lavendere
Of her norserye.
Than seyde Gyffroun le fludous,
Syr Lybeaus desconus,
Thys hauk thou hast forlore ;
Than seyde Lybeaus desconus,
Nay swhych nas never myn uus,
Justy y well therfore.
And yef thou berest me doun,
Tak my heed the fawkoun.
As forward was before ;

And yf y here doun the.
The hauk schall wende wyth me,
Maugre thyn heed hore :
What help mo tales telld?
They ryden yn to the feld.
And wyth ham greet partye ;
Wyth coronals stef and stelde,
Eyther smyt other in the schelde,
Wyth greet envye.
Har saftes breke asonder,
Har dentes ferthe as thonder.
That Cometh out of the skye ;

Taborus and trompours,
Herawdes goode descoverours,
Har strokes gon descrye.
Syr Gyffroun gan to speke,
Breng a schaft that nell naght breke.
A schaft wyth a cornall ;
Thys yonge ferly frek
Ys yn hys sadell steke.
As stone yn castell wall.
Thaugh he wer whyght werrour.
As Alysander, other Artour,
Launcelot, other Percevale,

I wyll do hym stoupe
Over hys horses croupe,
And yeve hym evele fall.
The knyghtes bothe two,
Togydere they ryden tho,
With well greet raundoun ;
Lybeaus smot Gyffroun so.
That hys scheld fell hym fro.
In that feld adoun.
The lough all that ther wes,
And seyde wythoute les,
Duke, erl, and baroun.

That yet never they ne seygh
Man that myghte dreygh
To justy wyth Gyffroun.
Gyffroun hys hors outryt,
And was wode out of wyt,
For he myghte naght spede ;
He rod agayn as tyd,
And Lybeaus so he smyt,
As man that wold awede.
But Lybeaus sat so faste,
That Gyffroun doun he caste,
Bothe hym and hys stede ;