English
Medieval Literature
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight I
vv. 1- 99
(1)
Sithen the sege and the assaut was sesed at Troye,
The
burgh brittened and brent to brondes and askes -
The
tulk that the trammes of tresoun there wrought
Was
tried for his trecherye, the truest on erthe -
Hit
was Ennias the athel and his high kynde
That
sithens depresed provinces and patrounes become
Welnegh
of all the wele in the west iles.
Fro
rich Romulus to Rome riches him swythe,
With
grete bobbaunce that burgh he bigges upon first
(10)
And nevenes hit his owen name, as hit now hat;
Ticius
to Tuskan and teldes begynnes,
Langaberde
in Lumbardie lyftes up homes,
And
fer over the French flode Felix Brutus
On
mony bonkes ful brode Bretayn he settes
With wynne,
Where werre and wrake and wonder
By sythes has woned therinne,
And oft both blysse and blunder
Ful skete has skyfted synne.
(20)
And when this Bretayn was bigged by this burn rich,
Bold
bredden therinne baret that loveden,
In
mony turned tyme tene that wroghten.
Mo
ferlyes on this folde han fallen here oft
Then
in any other that I wot syn that ilk tyme.
Bot
of all that here bult, of Bretayn kynges,
Ay
was Arthur the hendest, as I have herd telle.
Forthy
an aunter in erde I attle to schewe,
That
a selly in sight sum men hit holden
And
an outtrage aventure of Arthures wonderes.
(30)
If ye wil lysten this laye bot one littel whyle,
I
schal telle hit astit, as in toun herd,
With tonge,
As hit is stad and stoken
In stori stif and stronge,
With lel letteres loken
In londe so has bene longe.
This
kyng lay at Camylot upon Cristmasse
With
mony lovely lord, ledes of the best,
Rekenly
of the Rounde Table all to rich brether,
(40)
With rich revel aryght and rechles mirthes.
There
tournayed tulkes by tymes ful mony,
Justed
ful joily these gentyle knightes,
Sithen
caryed to the court caroles to make.
For
there the fest was ilyche ful fiften dayes,
With
all the mete and the mirthe that men couth avyse;
Such
glaum and gle glorious to here,
Dere
dyn upon day, daunsyng on nightes,
All
was hap upon high in halles and chambers
With
lordes and ladies, as levest hem thoght.
(50)
With all the wele of the worlde thay woned there samen,
The
most kyd knightes under Crystes selven
And
the lovelokkest ladies that ever lif haden,
And
he the comlokest kyng that the court holdes.
For
all was this fayr folk in her first age
On sille,
The hapnest under heven,
Kyng highest mon of wille;
Hit were now grete nye to neven
So hardy a here on hille.
(60)
While Newe Yere was so yep that hit was newe comen,
That
day double on the dece was the douth served.
Fro
the kyng was comen with knightes into the halle,
The
chauntry was there cast of clerkes and other,
Nowel
nayted onewe, nevened ful oft;
And
sithen rich forth runnen to reche hanselle,
Yeyed
yeres-yiftes on high, yelde hem by hande,
Debated
busyly about tho giftes;
Ladies
laghed dul loude thogh thay lost haden,
(70)
And he that wan was not wroth, that may ye wel trowe.
All
this mirthe thay maden to the mete tyme.
When
thay had waschen worthily that wenten to sete,
The
best burn ay above, as hit best semed,
Quene
Guenore ful gay graythed in the myddes,
Dressed
on the dere dece, dubbed alla aboute,
Smal
sendal bisides, a selure hir over,
Of
tried tolouse and of tars tapites innowe,
That
were embrawded and beten with the best gemmes
That
myght be proved of pris with penyes to bye
(80)
In day.
The comlokest to discrye
There glent with yen gray,
A semloker that ever he sye
Soth myght no mon say.
Bot
Arthur wolde not ete til all were served,
He
was so joly of his joyfnes and sumwhat childgered;
His
lif liked him lyght, he lovied the lasse
Auther
to longe lye or to longe sitte,
So
busied him his yong blode and his brayn wylde.
(90)
And also an other maner meved him eke
That
he thrugh nobelay had nomen: he wolde never ete
Upon
such a dere day ere him devised were
Of
sum aventurus thing an uncouthe tale,
Of
sum mayn mervayl that he myght trowe,
Of
alderes, of armes, of other aventures,
Auther
sum segge him besoght of sum siker knight
To
joyne with him in justying, in jopardy to lay,
Lede,
lif for lif, leve uchone other,
As
fortune wolde fulsun hem, the fayrer to have.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight I
13th century