Lines 505–1008

He bygins al the melle,
So wil i noght it far by me ;
Lates him say halely his thoght,
His wordes greves me right noght.
Als thai war in this spekeing,
Out of the chamber come the kyng,
The barons that war there sertayn,
Smertly rase thai him ogayne.
He bad tham sit down albydene,
And down he set him by the quene ;
The quene talde him, fayr and wele,
Als sho kowth, everilka dele,
Ful apertly, al the chance,
Als it byfel syr Colgrevance.
When sho had talde him how it ferd,
And the king hyr tale had herd,
He swar by his owyn crowne,
And his fadersowl, Uter-Pendragowne,
That he sold se that ilk syght,
By that day thethin a fowretenight,
On saint John's evyn the baptist,
That best barn was under Crist :
Swith, he sayd, wendes with me,
Whoso wil that wonder se.
The kynges word might noght be hid,
Over al the cowrt sone was it kyd,
And thar was none so litel page
That he ne was fayn of that vayage,
And knyghtes and swiers war ful fayne,
Mysliked none bot syr Ywayne ;
To himself he made grete mane,
For he wald have went allane ;
In hert he had grete myslykyng
For the wending of the kyng,
Al for he hopid, withowten fayle,
That sir Kay sold ask the batayle,
Or els sir Gawayn, knyght vailant,
And owther wald the king grant,
Whoso it wald first crave,
Of tham two, sone might it have.
The kynges wil wald he noght bide,
Worth of him what may bityde,
By him allane he thoght to wende,
And tak the grace that god wald send.
He thoght to be wele on hys way,
Or it war passed the thryd day,
And to asay if he myght mete
With that ilk narow strete.
With thornes and with breres set,
That mens way might lightli let ;
And also forto fynd the halde
That sir Colgrevance of talde,
The knyght and the mayden meke.
The forest fast than wald he seke,
And als the karl of Kaymes kyn,
And the wilde bestes with him ;
The tre with briddes thare-opon ;
The chapel, the bacyn, and the stone.
His thoght wald he tel to no frende,
Until he wyst how it wald ende.
Than went Ywaine to his yn,
His men he fand redy tharyn,
Unto a swier gan he saye,
Go swith, and sadel my palfray,
And so thou do my strang stede,
And tak with the my best wede,
At yone yate i wil out-ryde,
Withowten town i sal the bide,
And hy the smertly unto me,
For i most make a jorne.
Ogain sal thou bring my palfra,
And forbede the oght to say,
If thou wil any more me se,
Lat none wit of my prevete ;
And if ani man the oght frayn,
Luke now lely that thou layn.
Sir, he said, with ful gude will,
Als ye byd, i sal fulfyll ;
At yowr awyn wil may ye ride.
For me ye sal noght be ascryed.
Forth than went sir Ywayne,
He thinkes, or he cum ogayne,
To wreke his kosyn at his myght ;
The squier has his hernays dyght,
He did right als his mayster red,
His stede, his armurs, he him led.
When Ywayn was withowten town,
Of his palfray lighted he down,
And dight him right wele in his wede,
And lepe up on his gude stede.
Furth he rade onone right,
Until it neghed nere the nyght,
He passed many high mowntayne.
In wildernes, and mony a playne,
Til he come to that lethir sty,
That him byhoved pass by ;
Than was he seker forto se
The wel, and the fayre tre ;
The chapel saw he at the last,
And theder hyed he ful fast ;
More curtaysi and mor honowr
Fand he with tham in that tour,
And mar conforth, by mony falde,
Than Colgrevance had him of talde :
That night was he herberd thar,
So wele was he never are.
At morn he went forth by the strete,
And with the cherel sone gan he mete,
That sold tel to him the way,
He sayned him, the soth to say,
Twenty sith, or ever he blan,
Swilk mervayle had he of that man ;
For he had wonder that nature
Myght mak so fowl a creature.
Than to the well he rade gude pase,
And doun he lighted in that place,
And sone the bacyn has he tane,
And kest water upon the stane,
And sone thar wex, withowten fayle,
Wind, and thonor, and rayn, and haile.
When it was sesed, than saw he
The fowles light opon the tre,
Thai sang ful fayre opon that thorn,
Right als thai had done byforn ;
And sone he saw cumand a knight,
Als fast so the fowl in flyght,
With rude sembland, and sterne cher,
And hastily he neghed nere ;
To speke of lufe na time was thar,
For aither hated uther ful sar ;
Togeder smertly gan thai drive,
Thair sheldes sone bigan to ryve,
Thair shaftes cheverd to thair hand,
Bot thai war bath ful wele syttand.
Out thai drogh thair swerdes kene,
And delt strakes them bytwene ;
Al to peces thai hewed thair sheldes,
The culpons flegh out in the feldes ;
On helmes strake thay so with yre
At ilka strake out-brast the fyr ;
Aither of tham gude buffettes bede ;
And nowther wald styr of the stede ;
Ful kenely thai kyd thair myght,
And feyned tham noght forto fight ;
Thair hauberkes, that men myght ken,
The blode out of thair bodyes ren.
Aither on other laid so fast.
The batayl might noght lang last ;
Hauberkes er broken, and helmes reven,
Stif strakes war thar gyfen ;
Thai faght on hors stifly always,
The batel was wele mor to prays :
Bot, at the last, syr Ywayne
On his felow kyd his mayne,
So egerly he smate him than,
He clefe the helme and the hern-pan.
The knyght wist he was nere ded,
To fle than was his best rede,
And fast he fled, with al his mayne,
And fast folow syr Ywayne,
Bot he ne might him overtake,
Tharfore grete murning gan he make ;
He folowd him ful stowtlyk,
And wald have tane him ded or quik ;
He folowd him to the cete,
Na man lyfand met he.
When thai come to the kastel-yate,
In he folowd fast tharate,
At aither entre was, i wys,
Straytly wroght, a port-culis,
Shod wele with yren and stele,
And also grunden wonder wele.
Under that than was a swyke,
That made syr Ywain to myslike ;
His hors fote toched thareon,
Than fel the port-culis onone,
Bytwyx him and his hinder arsown,
Thorgh sadel and stede, it smate al down ;
His spores of his heles it schare,
Than had Ywaine murnyng mare,
Bot so he wend have passed quite,
That fel the tother bifore als tyte.
A faire grace yit fel him swa,
Al if it smate his hors in twa,
And his spors of aither hele,
That himself passed so wele.
Bytwene tha yates now es he tane,
Tharfor he mase ful mykel mane,
And mikel murnyng gan he ma,
For the knyght was went him fra.
Als he was stoken in that stall,
He herd byhind him, in a wall,
A- dor opend fair and wele,
And tharout come a damysel,
Efter hir the dore sho stak,
Ful hinde wordes to him sho spak.
Syr, sho said, by saint Myghell,
Her thou has a febil ostell ;
Thou mon be ded, es noght at lainc,
For my lord that thou has slayne ;
Seker it es that thou him slogh,
My lady makes sorrow ynogh,
And al his menye everilkane
Her has thou famen manyane,
To be thi bane er thai ful balde,
Thou brekes noght out of this halde,
And, for thai wate thai may noght fayl,
Thai ' wil the sla in playn batayl.
He sayd, Thai ne sal, so god me rede,
For al thair might, do me to dede,
Ne no handes opon me lay.
Sho said, Na, sertes, if that i may,
Al if thou be here straytly stad,
Methink thou ert noght ful adrad :
And sir, sho said, on al wise,
I aw the honor and servyse ;
I was in message at the king,
Bifor this time, whils i was ying,
I was noght than so avese,
Als a damysel aght to be,
Fro the tyme that i was lyght
In cowrt was none so hend knyght
That unto me than walde take hede
Bot thou allane, god do the mede !
Grete honor thou did to me,
And that sal i now quite the.
I wate, if thou be seldom sene,
Thou art the kyng son Uriene,
And thi name es sir Ywayne,
Of me may thou be sertayne,
If thou wil my kownfail leve,
Thou sal find na man the to greve ;
I sal lene the her mi ring,
Bot yelde it me at myne askyng,
When thou ert broght of al thi payn,
Yelde it than to me ogayne ;
Als the bark hilles the tre,
Right so sal my ring do the ;
When thou in hand has the stane,
Der sal thai do the nane,
For the stane es of swilk myght,
Of the sal men have na syght,
Wit ye wele that sir Ywayne
Of thir wordes was ful fayne.
In at the dore sho him led,
And did him sit opon hir bed,
A quylt ful nobil lay tharon,
Richer saw he never none.
Sho said, if he wald any thing,
He sold be served at his liking.
He said, that ete wald he fayn.
Sho went, and come ful sone ogain ;
A capon rested broght sho sone,
A clene clath, and brede tharone,
And a pot with riche wine,
And a pece to fil it yne.
He ete and drank, with ful gude cher,
For tharof had he grete myster.
When he had eten and dronken wele,
Grete noyse he herd in the kastele,
Thai soght over al him to have slayn,
To venge thair lorde war thai ful bayn,
Or that the cors in erth was layd.
The damysel sone to him sayd,
Now seke thai the fast forto sla,
Bot whoso ever com or ga,
Be thou never the mor adred,
Ne styr thou noght out of this stede :
In this here seke thai wyll,
Bot on this bed luke thou be styll ;
Of tham al mak thou na force,
Bot when that thai sal ber the cors
Unto the kyrk forto bery,
Than sal thou here a sary cry ;
So sal thai mak a doleful dyn,
Than wil thay seke the eft herin ;
Bot loke thou be of hert lyght,
For of the sal thai have no syght ;
Her sal thou be mawgre thair berd,
And tharfor be thou noght aferd ;
Thi farnen sal be als the blynd,
Both byfor the and byhind ;
On ilka side sal thou be soght ;
Now most i ga, bot drede the noght,
For i sal do that the es lefe,
If al it turn me to mischefe.
When sho come unto the yate,
Ful many men fand sho tharate,
Wele armed, and wald ful fayn
Have taken and slane sir Ywaine,
Half his stede thar fand thai,
That within the yates lay,
Bot the knight thar fand thai noght,
Than was thar mekil sorow unsoght,
Dore ne window was thar nane
Whar he myght oway gane.
Thai said he sold thare be laft,
Or els he cowth of wechecraft,
Or he cowth of nygromancy,
Or he had wenges for to fly.
Hastily than went thai all,
And soght him in the maydens hall,
In chambers high, es noght at hide,
And in solers on ilka side.
Sir Ywaine saw ful wele al that,
And still opon the bed he sat ;
Thar was nane that anes mynt
Unto the bed at smyte a dynt,
Al obout thai smate so fast
That mani of thair wapins brast.
Mekyl sorow thai made ilkane,
For thai ne myght wreke thair lord bane.
Thai went oway, with dreri chere,
And sone tharefter come the ber,
A lady folowd, white so my Ik,
In al that land was none swilk :
Sho wrang her fingers, out-brast the blode,
For mekyl wa sho was nere wode,
Hir fayr har scho al to-drogh,
And ful oft fel sho down in swogh ;
Sho wepe, with a ful dreri voice.
The hali water, and the croyce,
Was born bifor the procession,
Thar folowd mani a moder son.
Bifore the cors rade a knyght,
On his stede that was ful wight,
In his armurs wele arayd,
With sper and target gudely grayd.
Than sir Ywayn herd the cry,
And the dole of that fayr lady,
For mor sorow myght nane have
Than sho had when he went to grave.
Prestes and monkes, on thaire wyse,
Ful solempnly did the servyse.
Als Lunet thar stode in the thrang,
Until sir Ywaine thoght hir lang,
Out of the thrang the wai sho tase,
Unto sir Ywaine fast sho gase ;
Sho said, Sir, how ertow stad ?
I hope ful wele thou has bene rad.
Sertes, he said, thou sais wele thar,
So abayst was i never are.
He said, Leman, i pray the,
If it any wise may be,
That i might luke a litel throw
Out at sum hole or sum window ;
For wonder fayn, he sayd, wald i
Have a sight of the lady.
The maiden than ful sone unshet
In a place a preve weket,
Thar of the lady he had a syght,
Lowd sho cried to god almyght,
" Of his sins do him pardowne,
For sertanly in no regyowne
Was never knight of his bewte,
Ne efter him sal never nane be ;
In al the werld, fro end to ende,
Es none so curtayse, ne so hende.
God grant the grace thou mai won
In hevyn with his owyn son !
For so large lifes none in lede,
Ne none so doghty of gude dede."
When sho had thus made hir spell,
In swownyng ful oft-sithes sho fell.
Now lat we the lady be,
And of sir Ywaine speke we.
Luf that es so mekil of mayne,
Sar had wownded sir Ywayne,
That whareso he sal ride or ga
His hert sho has that es his fa,
His hert he has set albydene
Whar him self dar noght be sene ;
Bot thus in langing bides he,
And hopes that it sal better be.
Al that war at the enterement
Toke thair leve at the lady gent,
And hame now er thai halely gane,
And the lady left allane,
Dweland with hir chamberer,
And other mo that war hir der.
Than bigan hir noyes al new,
For sorow failed hir hide and hew.
Unto his sawl was sho ful hulde,
Opon a sawter al of guide,
To say the salmes fast sho bigan,
And toke no tent unto no man.
Than had sir Ywain mekyl drede,
For he hoped noght to spede,
He said, I am mekil to blame,
That i luf tham that wald me shame,
Bot yit i wite hir al with wogh,
Sen that i hir lord slogh,
I can noght se, by nakyn gyn,
How that i hir luf sold wyn.
That lady es ful gent and small,
Hir yghen cler als es cristall ;
Sertes thar es no man olive
That kowth hir bewtese wele descrive.
Thus was syr Ywayne sted that sesowne,
He wroght fu mekyl ogayns resowne,
To set his luf in swilk a stede,
Whare thai hated him to the dede :
He sayd he sold have hir to wive,
Or els he sold lose his lyve.
Thus als he in stody sat,
The mayden come to him with that :
Sho sayd, How has to farn this day,
Sen that i went fro the oway ?
Sone sho saw him pale and wan,
Sho wist wele what him ayled than ;
Sho said, I wote thi hert es set,
And series i ne sal noght it let,
Bot i sal help the fra presowne,
And bring the to thi warisowne.
He said, Sertes, damysele,
Out of this place wil i noght stele,
Bot i wil wende by dayes lyght,
That men may of me have sight,
Opinly on ilka syde,
Worth of me what so bityde ;
Manly wil i hethin wende.
Than answerd the mayden hende :
Sir, thou sal wend with honowr,
For thou sal have ful gude socowr ;
Bot, sir, thou sal be her sertayne,
A while unto i cum ogayne :
Sho [kend] altrewly his entent,
And tharfor es sho wightly went
Unto the lady faire and bright,
For unto hir right wele sho myght
Say what-som hyr willes es,
For sho was al hir maystres,
Her keper, and hir cownsayler :
To hir sho said, als ye sal her,
Bytwix tham twa in gude cownsayl :
Madame, sho sayd, i have mervayl
That ye sorow thus ever onane ;
For goddes luf lat be yowr mane ;
Ye sold think over alkyn thyng,
Of the kinges Arthurgh cumyng.
Menes yow noght of the message
Of the damysel savage,
That in hir lettre to yow send ;
Alias, who sal yow now defend,
Yowr land, and al that es tharyn ?
Sen ye wil never of wepeing blyn.
A madame, takes tent to me,
Ye ne have na knyght in this cuntre,
That durst right now his body bede,
Forto do a doghty dede,
Ne forto bide the mekil boste
Of king Arthurgh and of his oste,
And if he find none hym ogayn,
Yowr landes er lorn, this es sertayn,
The lady understode ful wele
How sho hyr cownsaild ilka dele,
Sho bad hyr go hir way smertly,
And that sho war na mor hardy
Swilk wordes to hyr at speke,
For wa hir hert wold al to-breke.
Sho bad go wightly hethin oway.
Than the maiden thus gan say :
Madame, it es oft wemens will
Tham forto blame that sais tham scill.
Sho went oway als sho noght roght,
And than the lady hyr bythoght
That the maiden said no wrang,
And so sho sat in stody lang.
In stody thus allane sho sat,
The mayden come ogayn with that :
Madame, sho said, ye er a barn,
Thus may ye sone yowr self forfarn.
Sho sayd, chastise thy hert madame,
To swilk a lady it es grete shame
Thus to wepe, and make slike cry,
Think upon thi grete gentri.
Trowes thou the flowr of chevalry
Sold al with thi lord dy,
And with him be put in molde ?
God forbede that it so solde !
Als glide als he, and better bene,
Thou lyes, sho said, by hevyn quene.
Lat se if thoue me tel kan,
Whar es any so doghty man
Als he was that wedded ' me.
" Yis, and ye kun me na mawgre,
And that ye mak me sekernes,
That ye sal luf me nevertheles."
Sho said, Thou may be ful sertayn,
That for na thing that thou mai sayn,
Wil i me wreth on nane maner.
Madame, sho said, than sal ye her :
I sal yow tel a prevete,
And na ma sal wit bot we.
Yf twa knyghtes be in the felde,
On twa stedes, with spere and shelde,
And the tane the tother may sla,
Whether es the better of tha ?
Sho said, He that has the bataile.
Ya, said the mayden, sawnfayle,
The knyght that lifes es mar of maine,
Than yowr lord that was slayne ;
Yowr lord fled out of the place,
And the tother gan hym chace