Lines 2017–2520

Thus in the forest als thai war,
The lyoun hungerd swith sar,
Of a beste savore he hade,
Until hys lord sembland he made,
That he wald go to get his pray,
His kind it wald, the soth to say ;
For his lorde sold him noght greve,
He wald noght go withowten leve.
Fra his lord the way he laght,
The mountance of ane arow draght,
Sone he met a barayn da,
And ful sone he gan hir sla,
Hir throte in twa ful sone he bate,
And drank the blode whils it was hate,
That da he kest than in his nek,
Als it war a mele-sek,
Unto his lorde than he it bar,
And sir Ywayn persayved thar
That it was so ner the nyght
That no ferrer ride he might ;
A loge of bowes sone he made,
And flynt and fir-yren bath he hade,
And fir ful sone thar he slogh,
Of dry mos and many a bogh
The lioun has the da undone ;
Sir Ywayne made a spit ful sone,
And rosted sum to thaire soper :
The lyon lay, als ye sal here ;
Unto na mete he him drogh,
Until his maister had eten ynogh.
Him failed thare bath salt and brede,
And so him did whyte wine and rede,
Bot of swilk thing als thai had
He and his lyon made tham glad.
The lyon hungerd for the nanes,
Ful fast he etc raw fless and banes.
Sir Ywayn, in that ilk telde,
Laid his hevid opon his shelde,
Alnyght the lyon obout yede,
To kepe his mayster and his stede :
Thus the lyon and the knyght
Lended thar a fourtenyght.
On a day, so it byfell,
Syr Ywayne come unto the well,
He saw the chapel and the thorne,
And said alias that he was born ;
And when he loked on the stane
He fel in swowing sone onane,
Als he fel his swerde out-shoke,
The pomel into the erth toke,
The poynt toke until his throte,
Wei ner he made a sari note,
Thorgh his armurs sone it smate,
And litel intil hys hals it bate :
And wen the lyon saw his blude,
He brayded als he had bene wode,
Than kest he up so lathly rerde,
Ful mani folk myht he have ferde ;
He wend wele, so god me rede,
That his mayster had bene ded.
It was ful grete pet to her
What sorow he made on his maner.
He stirt ful hertly, i yow hete,
And toke the swerde bytwix his fete,
Up he set it by a stane,
And thar he wald himself have slane,
And so he had sone, for sertayne,
Bot right in that rase syr Ywayne,
And alsone als he saw him stand
For fayn he liked fote and hand.
Sir Ywayn said oft-sithes, Alias !
Of alkins men hard es my grace,
Mi leman set me sertayn day
And i it brak, so wayloway !
Alias for dole ! how may i dwell
To se this chapel and this well !
Hir fair thorn, hir riche stane !
My gude dayes er now al gane,
My joy es done now al bidene,
I am noght worthi to be sene ;
I saw this wild beste was ful bayn
For my luf himselfe have slayne,
Than sold i sertes, by mor right
Sla my self for swilk a wyght
That i have for my foly lorn ;
Alias the while that i was born J
Als sir Ywayn made his mane,
In the chapel ay was ane,
And herd his muming haly al
Thorgh a crevice of the wall,
And sone it said, with simpel cher,
What ertou, that murnes her ?
A man, he said, sum tyme i was ;
What ertow ? tel me or i pas.
I am, it said, the sanest wight
That ever lifed by day or nyght.
Nay, he said, by saynt Martyne,
Thar es na sorow mete to myne,
Ne no wight so wil of wane,
I was a man now am i nane.
Whilom i was a nobil knyght,
And a man of mekyl myght,
I had knyghtes of my menye,
And of reches grete plente,
I had a ful fayre seignory,
And al i lost for my foly ;
Mi maste sorow als sal thou her,
I lost a lady that was me der.
The tother sayd, Alias ! alias !
Myne es a wele sarier case ;
To-morn i mun ber jewyse,
Als my famen wil devise.
Alias ! he said, what es the skill ?
" That sal thou her, sir, if thou will ;
I was a mayden, mekil of pride,
With a lady her ner biside,
Men me bikalles of tresown,
And has me put her in presown,
I have no man to defend me,
Tharfore to morn brent mun i be."
He sayd, What if thou get a knyght,
That for the with thi fase wil fight ?
Syr, sho sayd, als mot i ga,
In this land er bot knyghtes twa,
That me wald help to cover of car,
The tane es went i wate noght whar,
The tother es dweland with the king,
And wate noght of my myslykyng.
The tane of tham hat syr Gawayn,
And the tother hat syr Ywayn,
For hym sal i be done to dede,
To-morn right in this same stede,
He es the kinges son Uriene.
Perfay, he sayd, i have him sene ;
I am he, and for my gilt
Sal thou never more be spilt ;
Thou ert Lunet, if i can rede,
That helpyd me yn mekyl drede ;
I had bene ded had thou noght bene,
Tharfor tel me us bytwene
How bical thai the of treson,
Thus forto sla, and for what reson.
" Sir, thai say, that my lady
Lufed me moste specially,
And wroght al efter my rede,
Tharfor thai hate me to the ded.
The steward says, that done have i
Crete tresone unto my lady,
His twa brether sayd it als,
And i wist that thai said fals,
And sone i answerd, als a sot,
(For fole bolt es sone shot)
I said, that i sold find a knyght
That sold me mayntene in my right,
And feght with tham al thre,
Thus the batayl waged we.
Than thai granted me als tyte
Fourty dayes unto respite,
And at the kynges court i was,
I fand na cumfort, ne na solase,
Nowther of knyght, knave, ne swayn."
Than, said he, Whar was syr Gawayn ?
He has bene ever trew and lele,
He fayled never no damysele.
Scho said, In court [he] was noght sene,
For a knyght led oway the quene,
The kyng tharfor es swith grym,
Sir Gawayn folowd efter him ;
He corns noght hame for sertayne
Until he bryng the quene ogayne.
Now has thou herd, so god me rede,
Why i sal be done to ded.
He said, Als i am a trew knyght,
I sal be redy forto fyght
To-morn with tham al thre,
Leman, for the luf of the.
At my might i sal noght fayl,
Bot how so bese of the batayle,
If ani man my name the frayne,
On al maner luke thou yt layne,
Unto na man my name thou say.
Syr, sho sayd, for soth nay,
I prai to grete god alweldand,
That thai have noght the hegher hand,
Sen that ye wil my murnyng mend,
I tak the grace that god wil send.
Syr Ywayn sayd, I sal the hyght
To mend thi murnyng at my myght,
Thorgh grace of god in trenyte,
I sal the wreke of tham al thre :
Than rade he forth into frith,
And hys lyoun went hym with.
Had he redyn hot a stownde
A ful fayr castell he fownde,
And syr Ywaine, the soth to say,
Unto the castel toke the way ;
When he come at the castel-yate,
Four porters he fand tharate,
The draw-bryg sone lete thai doun,
Bot al thai fled for the lyown :
Thai said, Syr, wythowten dowt,
That beste byhoves the leve tharout.
He sayd, Sirs, so have i wyn,
Mi lyoun and i sal noght twyn ;
I luf him als wele, i yow hete,
Als my self at ane mete,
Owther sal we samyn lende,
Or els wil we hethin wende.
Bot right with that the lord he met,
And ful gladly he him gret,
With knyghtes and swiers grete plente,
And fair ladies and maydens fre ;
Ful mekyl joy of him thai made,
Bot sorow in thair hertes thai hade ;
Unto a chameber was he led,
And unarmed, ' and sethin cled
In clothes that war gay and der ;
Bot oft-tymes changed thair cher,
Sum tyme he saw thai weped all,
Als thai wald to water fall ;
Thai made slike murnyng and slik mane,
That gretter saw he never nane.
Thai feynyd tham oft for hys sake
Fayre semblant forto make.
Ful grete wonder sir Ywayn hade,
For thai swilk joy and sorow made.
Sir, he said, if yowr wil war,
I wald wyt whyt ye mak slike kar.
This joy, he said, that we mak now,
Sir, es al for we have yow,
And, sir, also we mak this sorow
For dedys that sal be done to-morow.
A geant wons her ner bysyde,
That es a devil of mekil pryde,
His name hat Harpyns of mowntain,
For him we lyf in mekil payn,
My landes haves he robbed and reft,
Noght bot this kastel es me left,
And, by god that in hevyn wons,
Syr, i had sex knyghtes to sons,
I saw my self the twa slogh he,
To-morn the four als slane mun be.
He has al in hys presowne,
And, sir, for nane other enchesowne,
Bot for i warned hym to wyve
My doghter, fayrest fode olyve,
Tharfor es he wonder wrath,
In depely has he sworn hys ath,
With maystry that he sal hir wyn,
And that the laddes of his kychyn,
And also that his werst fote-knave,
His wil of that woman sal have,
Bot i to-morn might find a knight,
That durst with hymselven fyght,
And i have none to him at ga,
What wonder es if me be wa ?
Syr Ywayn lystend him ful wele,
And, when he had talde ilka dele,
Syr, he sayd, methink mervayl
That ye soght never so kounsayl,
At the kynges hous her bysyde ;
For, sertes, in al this werld so wyde
Es no man of so mekil myght
Geant, champioun, ne knight,
That he ne has knyghtes of his menye,
That ful glad and blyth wald be
For to mete with swilk a man,
That thai myght kith thair myghtes on.
He said, Syr, so god me mend,
Unto the kynges kourt i send, .
To seke my mayster syr Gawayn,
For he wald socor me In I tain,
He wald noght leve for luf ne drede,
Had he wist now of my nede,
For his sister es my wyfe,
And he lufes hyr als his lyfe.
Bot a knyght this other day,
Thai talde, has led the quene oway,
Forto seke hyr went sir Gawayn,
And yit nc come he noght ogayn.
Than syr Ywayne sighed sar,
And said unto the knyght right thar,
Syr, he sayd, for Gawayn sake,
This batayl wil i undertake,
Forto fyght with the geant,
And that opon swilk a covenant,
Yif he cum at swilk a time,
So that we may fight by prime ;
No langer may i tent tharto,
For other thing i have to do,
I have a dede that most be done
To morn nedes byfor the none.
The knyght, far sighand, sayd him till,
Sir, god yelde the thi gode wyll ;
And al that war thar in the hall,
On knese byfor hym gan thai fall ;
Forth thar come a byrd ful bryght,
The fairest man might se in sight,
Hir moder come with hir in fer,
And both thai morned and made yll cher ;
The knight said, Lo, verraiment,
God has us gude socur sent ;
This knight, that of his grace wil grant
Forto fyght with the geant.
On knese thai fel doun to his fete,
And thanked him with wordes swete.
A, god forbede, said sir Ywain,
That the sister of sir Gawayn,
Or any other of his blode born,
Sold on this wise knel me byforn.
He toke tham up tyte both in fer,
And prayd tham to amend thair cher :
" And praies fast to god alswa,
That i may venge yow or yowr fa,
And that he cum swilk tyme of day,
That i by tyme may wend my way,
For to do another dede,
For sertes theder most i nede ;
Series i wald noght tham byswike,
Forto win this kinges like."
His thoght was on that damysel
That he left in the chapel.
Thai said, he es of grete renowne,
For with him dwels the lyoun ;
Ful wele confort war thai all,
Bath in bour and als in hall ;
Ful glad war thai of thair gest,
And when tyme was at go to rest,
The lady broght him to his bed,
And for the lyoun sho was adred,
Na man durst neght * his chamber ner,
Fro thai war broght thar-yn in fer.
Sone at morn, when it was day,
The lady and the fayr may
Til Ywayn chamber went thai sone,
And the dor thai have undone.
Sir Ywayn to the kyrk yede,
Or he did any other dede ;
He herd the servise of the day,
And sethin to the knyght gan say :
Sir, he said, now most i wend,
Lenger her dar i noght lende,
Til other place byhoves me far.
Than had the knyght ful mekel car.
He said, Syr, dwells a litel thraw,
For luf of Gawayn that ye knaw,
Socor us now or ye wende,
I sal yow gif, with-owten ende,
Half my land, with toun and tour,
And ye wil help us in this stour.
Sir Ywayn said, Nai, god forbede,
That i sold take any mede.
Than was grete dole, so god me glade,
To se the sorow that thai made,
Of tham sir Ywayn had grete pete,
Him thoght his hert myght breke in thre ;
For in grete dede ay gan he dwell,
For the mayden in the chapell,
For sertes if sho war done to ded,
Of him war than none other rede,
Bot oither he sold hym-selven sla,
Or wode ogain to the wod ga.
Ryght with that thar come a grome,
And said tham that geant come ;
Yowr sons bringes he him byforn,
Wei ner naked als thai war born.
With wreched ragges war thai kled,
And fast bunden thus er thai led.
The geant was bath large and lang,
And bar a levor of yren ful strang,
Tharwith he pet tham bitterly,
Grete rewth it was to her tham cry,
Thai had no thing tham forto hyde.
A dwergh yode on the tother syde ;
He bar a scowrge with cordes ten,
Thar-with he bet tha gentil men,
Ever onane, als he war wode,
Efter ilka band brast out the blode ;
And, when thai at the walles were,
He cried loud that men might her :
If thou wil have thi sons in hele,
Deliver me that damysele,
I sal hir gif to warisowne
Ane of the foulest quisteroun
That ever yit ete any brede,
He sal have hir mayden-hede,
Thar sal none other lig hir by
Bot naked herlotes and lowsy.
When the lord thir words herd,
Als he war wode for wa he ferd.
Sir Ywayn than, that was curtays,
Unto the knyght ful sone he sais,
This geant es ful fers and fell,
And of his wordes ful kruell,
I sal deliver hir of his aw,
Or els be ded within a thraw ;
For sertes it war a misaventur
That so gentil a creature
Sold ever so foul hap byfall,
To be defouled with a thrall.
Sone was he armed, sir Ywayn,
Tharfor the ladies war ful fayn ;
Thai helped to lace him in his wede,
And sone he lepe up on his stede ;
Thai prai to god that grace him grant,
For to sla that foul geant ;
The draw-brigges war laten doun,
And forth he rides with his lioun.
Ful mani sari murnand man
Left he in the kastel than,
That, on thair knese, to god of might,
Praied ful hertly for the knyght.
Syr Ywan rade into the playne,
And the geant come hym ogayne.
His levore was ful grete and lang,
And himself ful mekyl and strang.
He said, What devil made the so balde
Forto cum heder out of thi halde ?
Who so ever the heder send
Lufed the litel, so god me mend,
Of the he wald be wroken fayn.
Do forth thi best, said sir Ywan.
Al the armure he was yn
Was noght bot of a bul-skyn.
Sir Ywayn was to him ful prest,
He strake to him in middes the brest,
The sper was both stif and gode,
Whar it toke bit out-brast the blode ;
So fast sir Ywayn on yt soght
The bul-scyn availed noght.
The geant stombild with the dynt,
And unto sir Ywayn he mynt,
And on the shelde he hit ful fast,
It was a mervayl that it myght last ;
The levor bended thar-with-all,
With grete force he let it fall.
The geant was so strong and wight
That never for no dint of knyght,
Ne for batayl that he sold make,
Wald he none other wapyn take.
Sir Ywain left his sper of hand,
And strake obout him with his brand,
And the geant, mekil of mayn,
Strake ful fast to him ogayn,
Til at the last within a throw
He rest him on his sadel-bow,
And that percayved his lioun,
That his hevid so hanged doun,
He hopid that hys lord was hyrt,
And to the geant sone he styrt,
The scyn and fless bath rafe he down,
Fro his hals to hys cropoun ;
His ribbes myght men so onane,
For al was bar unto bane.
At the lyown oft he mynt,
Bot ever he lepis fro his dynt,
So that no strake on him lyght.
By than was Ywain cumen to myght.
Than wil he wreke him if he may :
The geant gaf he ful gude pay,
He smate oway al his left cheke,
His sholder als of gan he kleke,
That both his levor and his hand
Fel doun law open the land,
Sethin with a stoke to him he stert,
And smate the geant unto the hert ;
Than was nane other tale to tell,
Bot fast unto the erth he fell,
Als it had bene a hevy tre.
Than myght men in the kastel se
Ful mekil mirth on ilka side,
The yates kest thai opyn wyde ;
The lord unto syr Ywaine ran,
Him foloud many a joyful man,
Also the lady ran ful fast,
And hir doghter was noght the last.
I may noght tel the joy thai had,
And the four brether war ful glad,
For thai war out of bales broght.
The lord wist it helpid noght
At pray sir Ywayn forto dwell,
For tales that he byfor gan tell,
Bot hertly, with his myght and mayn,
He praied him forto cum ogayn,
And dwel with him a litel stage,
When he had done hys vassage.
He said, Sir, that may i noght do,
Bileves wele, for me bus go.
Tham was ful wo he wald noght dwell,
Bot fain thai war that it so fell.
The neghest way than gan he wele,
Until he come to the chapele,
Thar he fand a mekil fir,
And the mayden with lely lire,
In hyr smok was bunden fast,
Into the fir forto be kast.
Unto himself he said in hy,
And prayed to god al-myghty,
That he sold, for his mekil myght,
Save fro shame that swete wight :
" Yf thai be many, and mekil of pryse,
I sal let for no kouwardise,
For with me es bath god and right,
And thai sal help me forto fight,