Lines 480–959

" Ector," he sayd, " where thou it were
That woundid me thus wondir sore ? "
Ector aunswerd with symple chère :
" lord, I ne wiste þat ye it wore ;
A dynte of you I had there,
felyd I nevir none so sore."
Sir lyonelle by god þan swore
That " myne wolle sene be euyr more."

Sir Boerte than answerd as tyte
As knight þat wise was vndir wede :
I hope þat none of vs was quite,
I had oon þat to ground I yede.
Sir, your brodyr shall ye not wite,
now knowes either others dede ;
now know ye how Ector can smyte
To helpe you whan ye haue nede."

launcelot loughe with herte fre
That Ector made so mekill Sitte :
" Brother, no thinge drede thou the.
For I shalle be bothe hole and quite.
Though thou haue sore woundid me,
There-of I shall the nevir wite ;
Bot euyr the better loue I the.
Such a dynte that thou can smyte."

Than vppon the thrid day
They toke there leve for to fare,
To the courte they wille away,
For he wille dwelle a while thare.
"Grete welle my lorde, I you pray.
And telle my lady how I fare,
And say I wylle come whan I may,
And byddith hyr longe no-thinge sare."

They toke there leve, with-outen lees.
And wightely wente vppon there way ;
To the courte the way they chese.
There as the quene Genure lay.
The kinge to the foreste is
With knightis hym for to play ;
Good space they had with-outen prese
There erand to the quene to say.

They knelyd downe by-fore the quene,
The knightis þat were wise of lere.
And sayd they had launcelot sene
And thre dayes with hym were.
And how þat he had woundyd bene,
And seke he had lye full sore.
Or ought longe ye shall hym sene ;
he bad you longe no thynge sore."

The quene loughe with herte fre
Whan she wiste he was on lyff.
" O, worthy god, what wele is me !
Why ne wiste my lord it also swithe ! "
To the foreste rode these knightis thre.
To the kinge it to kithe ;
Ihesu criste þan thankis he.
For was he nevir of word so blithe.

he klepyd Sir Gawayne liym nere
And sayd : certis, that was he
That the rede armys here ;
Bot, now he lyffis, welle is me."
Gawayne answerd with myld chère,
As he that Ay was hend and fre :
Was neuyr tithandis me so dere,
Bot sore me longis launcelot to se."

At the kinge and at the quene
Sir Gawayne toke his leve that tyde,
And sithe at alle the courte by-dene,
And buskis hym with mekyll pryde
Tille Ascalot, with-outen wene,
Also faste as he might Ryde ;
Tille that he haue launcelot sene
Night ne day ne wolle he byde.

By that was launcelot hole and fere,
Buskis hym and makis all yare,
his leue hathe he take there.
The mayden wepte for sorow & Care :
' Sir, yif that youre willis were,
Sithe I of the ne may haue mare,
Som thinge ye wolde be-lene me here
To loke on whan me longith sare.

launcelot spake with herte fre,
For to comforte that lady hende :
" Myne Armure shall I leue with the
And in thy brothers wille I wend ;
loke thou ne longe not after me
For here I may no lenger lend.
longe tyme ne shalle it noght be
That I ne shalle eyther come or send."

launcelot is Redy for to Ride
And on his way he went forth Right ;
Sir Gaweyn come aftir on a tyde
And askis after suche a knighte;
They reseyved hym with grete pride,
A Riche soper there was dight,
And sayd, in herte is noght to hyde,
A-way he was for fourtenyght.

Sir Gaweyne gon that mayden take,
And satte hym by that swete wight,
And spake of launcelot de lake ;
In alle the world nas suche a knight.
The mayden there of launcelot spake,
Said all hyr loue was on hym light,
For bis leman he hathe me take,
his Armure I you shewe mighte."

Now, damysselle," he sayd Anone,
And I Am glad þat it is so ;
Suche a lemman as thou haste oon
In all this world ne be no mo ;
There is no lady of flesshe ne bone
In this world so thryye or thro,
Thoughe hyr herte were stele or stone,
That might hyr loue hald hym fro.

But, damysselle, I be-seche the
his sheld that ye wold me shewe ;
launcelottis yif that it be,
Be the coloures I it knew."
The mayden was bothe hend & fre,
And ledde hym to a chambyr newe ;
launcelottis sheld she lette hym se.
And all his Armure forth she drewe.

hendely than syr Gawayne,
To the mayden there he spake :
"lady," he sayd, "withouten layne,
This is launcelottis sheld de lake,
Damesselle," he sayd, " I Am full fayne
That he the wold to lemman take,
And I with alle my myght and mayne
. Wille be thy knight for his sake."

Gawayne thus spake with that swete wight
What his wille was for to say
Tille he was to bed I-dighte ;
Aboute hym was gamme and play,
he toke his leue at erle and knight
On the morow whan it was day,
And sithen at the mayden brighte.
And forthe he wente vppon his way.

he nyste where þat he mighte
ne where that launcelot wold lend,
For whan he was oute of sight,
he was fulle yvelle for to fynd.
he takis hym the way Right,
And to the courte gon he wend ;
Glad of hym was kyng and knight.
For he was bothe corteyse and hend.

Than it by-felle vppon a tyde.
The kinge stode by the quene & spake,
Sir gaweyne standis hym be-syde,
Ichone tille other there mone gan make
how longe they might with bale abyde
The comynge of launcelot du lake ;
In the courte was litelle pryde,
So sore they sighyd for his sake.

"Certis, yif launcelot were on lyff,
So longe fro courte he nold not be."
Sir gawayne answerd also swithe :
" There-of no wondir thinkith me ;
The feyrest lady that is on lyff
Tille his lemman chosen hath he ;
Is noon of vs but wold be blithe
Suche a semely for to see."

The kinge Arthur was full blythe
Off that tithingis for to lere,
And askid syr Gawayne also swythe
What mayden that it were.
"Therlis doughter," he sayd as swithe,
" Off Ascolot, as ye may here,
There I was made glad & blithe.
his sheld the mayde shewid me there,"

The quene than said wordis no mo,
Bot to hyr chambir sone she yede,
And downe vppon hyr bed felle so
That nighe of witte she wold wede.
"Allas ! " she sayd, " and well-a-wo !
That euyr I Aught lyff in lede ;
The beste body is loste me fro
That euyr in stoure by-strode stede."

ladyes that aboute hyr stode,
That wiste of hyr previte,
Bad hyr be of comforte gode,
lette no man suche semblant se.
A bed they made with sory mode,
There-in they brought that lady fre ;
Euyr she wepte as she were wode,
Off hyr they had full grete pite.

So sore seke the quene lay.
Off sorow might she nevir lette,
Tille it felle vppon a day,
Sir lyonelle and Ector yede
In-to the foreste, them to play,
That floured was and braunchid swete,
And as they went by the way,
With launcelot gonne they mete.

What woundyr was though they were blith
Whan they there master saw with sight !
On knees they felle also swithe
And all they thankid god all-myght ;
loye it was to se and lythe
The metynge of the noble knighte.
And sithe he freyned also swithe :
"how fares my lady brighte ? "

Than answerd the knightis fre
And said that she was seke full sare ;
"Grete doelle it is to here and se,
So mekylle she is in sorow and care ;
The kinge, a sory man ys he
In courte for that ye come no mare;
Dede he wenys that ye be
And alle the courte both lasse & mare.

Sir, were it your wille with vs to fare.
For to speke with the quene,
Blithe I wote wele that she ware,
yif that she had you onys sene.
The kynge is mekille in sorow and care,
And so ys all the courte by-dene ;
Dede they wene welle that ye Are
Frome courte for ye so longe haue beue."

he grauntis them at that ylke sythe
home that he wille with them Ride;
There-fore the knightis were fulle blithe
And busked them with mykelle pride
To the courte also swithe ;
Nyght ne day they nold abyde.
The kinge and alle the courte was blithe,
The tydandis whan they herde þat tyde.

The kinge stode in a toure on highe,
Be-sydes hym standis syr Gawayne ;
launcelotte whan that they sighe,
Were nevir men on mold so fayne.
They Ranne as swithe as euyr they might
Oute at the gates hym Agayne ;
Was nevir tidandis to them so light.
The kinge hym kissyd and knight & swayne ;

To a chamber the kynge hym lad ;
feyre in Armys they gon hym fold,
And sette hym on A Riche bedde
That sprad was with a clothe of gold;
To serve hym was there no man sad
Ne dight hym as hym-self wold
To make hym bothe blithe and glad ;
And sithe Auntres he them told.

Thre dayes in courte he dwellid there
That he ne spake not with the quene :
So myche prees was Ay hym nere ;
The kyng hym lad and courte by-dene.
The lady, bright as blossom on brere.
Sore she longid hym to sene ;
Wepinge was hyr moste chère,
Thoughe she ne durste hyr to no man mene.

Than it felle vppon a day,
The kinge gan on huntynge Ride
In-to the foreste hym to playe,
With his knightis be his syde ;
launcelot longe in bed laye,
With the quene he thought to byde ;
To the chamber he toke the way
And sahies hyr with mekell pryde ;

Friste he kissyd that lady shene
And salues hyr with herte fre,
And sithe the ladyes all by-dene,
,. For loye the teres Kanne on.ther.ble.
" Well-a-way ! " than sayd the quene,
" launcelot, that I euyr the se !
The loue þat hathe be vs by-twene
That it shall thus departed be !

Allas ! launcelot du lake,
Sithe thou hast all my hert in wold
Therlis doughter that thou wold take
Off ascalot, as men me told !
Now thou leviste for hyr sake
Alle thy dede of Armys bold,
I may wofully wepe and wake
In clay tylle I be clongyn cold.

But, launcelot, I be-seche the here,
Sithe it nedelyngis shalle be so.
That thou nevir more dyskere
The loue that hathe bene be-twyxe vs two,
Ne that she nevir be with the so dere
Dede of Armys þat thou be fro.
That I may of thy body here,
Sithe I shall thus be-leve in woo."

launcelot fulle stille than stode,
his herte was hevy as Any stone ;
So sory he wexe in his mode,
For Routhe hym thought it all to-torne.
' Madame," he said, "for crosse and Rode,
What by-tokenyth all this mone ?
By hym þat bought me with his blode,
Off these tydandes know I none ;

But by these wordis thynkith me
A-way ye wold þat I ware ;
Now haue good day, my lady fre,
For sothe thou seest me nevir mare."
Oute of the chambyr þan wendis he ;
Now whethir his hert was full of Care
The lady swownyd Sithes thre
Almost she slew hyr-selfe thare.

launcelot to his chambyr yede,
There his owne atyre in lay,
Armyd hym in a noble wede,
Thoughe in his hert were litell play ;
Forthe he spronge as sparke of glede,
Withe sory chère, for sothe to say ;
Vp he worthis vppon his stede
And to a foreste he wendis a-way.

Tithyngis come in-to the halle
That launcelot was vppon his stede ;
Oute than Ranne the knightis alle,
Off there witte as they wold wede ;
Boerte de Gawnes and lyonelle
And Ector that doughty was of dede
Folowyn hym on horsys snelle,
Fulle lowde gonne they blowe and grede.

There might no man hym ovir-take,
he Rode in-to a forest grene ;
Moche mone gonne they make
The knightis that were bold and kene.
"Allas ! " they sayd, launcelot du lake,
That euyr shuldistow se the quene ! "
And hyr they cursyd for his sake
That euyr loue was them by-twene.

They ne wiste nevir where to fare
Ne to what land þat he wold ;
Ageyne they went with sighyng sare,
The knightis þat were kene & bold ;
The quene they found in swownyng thare,
hyr comely tresses all vnfold ;
They were so full of sorowe & Care
There was none hyr comfort wold.

The kynge than hastis hym for his sake
And home þan come that ylke day,
And asked after launcelot du lake,
And they sayd : " he is gone away."
The quene was in hyr bed all nakyd,
And sore seke in hyr chambyr lay,
So moche mone the kynge gon make,
There was no knight þat lust to playe.

The kinge klepis Gawayne þat day
And alle his sorow told hym tylle :
"Now ys launcelot gone A-way
And come, I wote, he nevir wille.
he sayd alias and wellaway ! "
Sighed sore and gaff hym ylle :
"The lord that we have lovid all- way.
In courte why nylle he nevir dwelle !

Gawayn spekis in that tyde
And to the kynge sayd he there :
Sir, in this castelle shall ye byde,
Comforte you and make good chère,
And we shall bothe go and Ride
In all landis ferre and nere ;
So preuely he shall hym not hyde
Throughe happe that we ne shall of hym here."

Knyghtis than sought hym wide,
Off launcelot myght they not hère,
Tylle it felle vppon a tyde,
quene Genure, bright as blossom on brere,
To mete is sette that ylke tyde,
And syr Gawayne satte hyr nere,
And vppon that other syde
A scottysshe knight þat was hyr dere,

A squyer in the courte hath thought,
That ylke day, yif that he myght,
With a poyson þat he hath wrought
To slae Gawayne, yif that he mighte ;
In frute he hath it forthe brought
And sette by-fore the quene bright ;
An Appille ouereste lay on lofte.
There the poyson was in dighte,

For he thoughte the lady bright
Wold the beste to Gawayne bede,
But she it yaff to the scottisshe knight,
For he was of an vnkouth stede,
There-of he ete a lytell wight,
Off tresoun toke there no man hede ;
There he loste both mayne and might
And died sone, as I you Rede.

They nyste what it myght by-mene,
But vp hym sterte syr Gawayne, p
And sithen all the courte by-dene,
And ouyr the bord they haue hym drayne.
" Wellaway ! " than sayd the quene,
" Ihesu Criste ! what may I sayne !
Certis, now will all men wene
My-self that I the knight haue slayne."

Triacle there was anone forth brought,
The quene wende to save his lyff,
But all that myght helpe hym noght,
For there the knight is dede as swithe ;
So grete sorow the quene than wrought,
Grete doele it was to se and lythe ;
lord, suche syttes me haue sought !
Why ne may I nevir be blithe ! "

Knyghtis done none other myght,
Bot beryed hym with doele I-noughe,
At a chapell with Riche lyghte,
In a foreste by a cloughe ;
A Riche toumbe they dyd by dight,
A Crafty clerke the lettres droughe,
how there lay the shottysshe knyght
That quene Genure with poyson slough.

Aftyr thys a tyme by-felle,
To the courte ther come a knyght,
his brodyr he was, as I you telle,
And syr mador for sothe he highte ;
he was an hardy man and snelle,
In turnamente and eke in fight,
And mykell louyd in Courte to duelle,
For he was man of myche myght.

Than it felle vppon a day,
Sir mador wente with mekill pride
In-to the foreste, hym for to play,
That floured was and braunchid wyde ;
he found a chapell in his way.
As he cam by a cloughis syde,
There his owne brodyr lay.
And there at masse he thought to abyde.

A Riche toumbe he found there dight
With lettres that were fayre I-noughe ;
A while he stode and Redde it Right,
Grete sorow than to his herte droughe,
he found the name of the scottysshe knight
That quene Genure with poysoun sloughe ;
There he loste bothe mayne and myght
And ouyr the toumbe he felle in swoughe.

Off swownynge whan he myght awake,
his herte was heuy as Any lede ;
he sighed for his brothers sake,
he ne wiste what was beste Rede ;
The way to courte gan he take.
Off no-thinge ne stode he drede ;
A lovde Crye on the quene gonne make
In chalengynge of his brothers dede.

The kynge fulle sore than gan hym drede,
For he myght not be ageyne the Right ;
The queue of witte wold nyghe wede.
thoughe þat she agilte had no wight,
She moste there by-know the dede,
Or fynde a man for hyr to fight ;
For welle she wiste to deth she yede
yif she were on a queste of knightis.

Thoughe Arthur were kynge þe land to weld,
he myght not be agayne the Righte ;
A day he toke with spere and sheld
To fynd a man for hyr to fight,
That she shalle eyther to deth hyr yeld
Or putte hyr on a queste of knightis ;
There-to bothe there handis yp-held
And trewly there trouthis plighte.

Whan they in Certeyne had sette a day
And that quarelle vndir-take,
The word sprange sone throw eche contrey
What sorow that quene genure ganne make ;
So at the laste, shortely to say,
Word come to launcelot du lake,
There as he seke woundyd lay ;
Men told hym holly all the wrake,

how that quene Genure the bright
had slayne with grete treasoun
A swithe noble scottishe knight
At the mete with stronge poysoun ;
There-for a day was taken Bight
That she should fynd a knight full bowne
For hyr sake for to fighte
Or ellis be brente with-oute Baunsowne.

Whan þat launcelot du lake
had herd holly all this fare,
Grete sorow gon he to hym take.
For the quene was in suche care.
And swore to venge hyr of that wrake
That day yif þat he lyvand ware ;
Than payned he hym his sorows to slake
And wexe as breme as Any bare.

Now levé we launcelot there he was,
withe the ermyte in the forest grene.
And telle we forthe of the case
That touchith Arthur the kynge so kene.
Sir Gawayne on the morne to conselle he tase,
And mornyd sore for the quene,
In-to a toure than he hym has
And ordeyned the beste there them by-twene.