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|
God graunt hem heven-blis to mede
That herken to mi romaunce rede1
Al of a gentil knight;
The best bodi he was at nede
That ever might bistriden stede
And freest founde in fight.
The word of him ful wide it ran
Over al this warld the priis he wan,
As man most of might.
Balder bern was non in bi,
His name was hoten Sir Gii
Of Warwike wise and wight.
Wight he was for sothe to say
And holden for priis in everi play
As knight of gret boundé.
Out of this lond he went his way
Thurth mani divers cuntray
That was biyond the see.
Sethen he com into Inglond
And Athelston the king he fond
That was bothe hende and fre.
For his love ich understond
He slough a dragoun in Northhumberlond
Ful fer in the north cuntré.
He and Herhaud for sothe to say
To Wallingforth toke the way
That was his faders toun.
Than was his fader sothe to say
Ded and birid in the clay;
His air was Sir Gioun.
Alle that held of him lond or fe
Deden him omage and feuté
And com to his somoun.
He tok alle his faders lond
And gaf it hende Herhaud in hond
Right to his warisoun.
And alle that hadde in his servise be
He gaf hem gold and riche fe
Ful hendeliche on honde
And sethen he went with his meyné
To th'erl Rohaud that was so fre,
At Warwike he him fond.
Alle than were thai glad and blithe
And thonked God a thousand sithe
That Gii was comen to lond.
Sethe on hunting thai gun ride
With knightes fele and miche pride
As ye may understond.
On a day Sir Gii gan fond
And feir Felice he tok bi hond
And seyd to that bird so blithe
"Ichave," he seyd, "thurth Godes sond
Won the priis in mani lond
Of knightes strong and stithe
And me is boden gret anour,
Kinges douhter and emperour,
To have to mi wive.
Ac swete Felice," he seyd than,
"Y no schal never spouse wiman
Whiles thou art olive."
Than answerd that swete wight
And seyd ogain to him ful right
"Bi Him that schope mankinne,
Icham desired day and night
Of erl, baroun, and mani a knight;
For nothing wil thai blinne.
Ac Gii," sche seyd, "hende and fre,
Al mi love is layd on thee,
Our love schal never tuinne;
And bot ich have thee to make
Other lord nil Y non take
For al this warld to winne."2
Anon to hir than answerd Gii,
To fair Felice that sat him bi
That semly was of sight,
"Leman," he seyd, "gramerci."
With joie and with melodi
He kist that swete wight.
Than was he bothe glad and blithe,
His joie couthe he no man kithe
For that bird so bright.3
He no was never therbiforn
Half so blithe sethe he was born
For nought that man him hight.4
On a day th'erl gan fond
And fair Felice he tok bi hond
And hir moder biside,
"Douhter," he seyd, "now understond
Why wiltow have non husbond
That might thee spouse with pride?
Thou has ben desired of mani man
And yete no wostow never nan
For nought that might bitide.5
Leve douhter hende and fre
Telle me now par charité
What man thou wilt abide."
Felice answerd ogain
"Fader," quath hye, "ichil thee sain
With wordes fre and hende.
Fader," quath sche, "ichil ful fayn
Tel thee at wordes tuain
Bi Him that schop mankende.
Opon Sir Gii that gentil knight,
Ywis, mi love is alle alight
In warld where that he wende
And bot he spouse me, at o word,
Y no kepe never take lord,
Day withouten ende."
Than seyd th'erl with wordes fre,
"Douhter, yblisced mot thou be
Of Godes mouthe to mede.
Ich hadde wele lever than al mi fe
With than he wald spousy thee,
That douhti man of dede.
He hath ben desired of mani woman
And he hath forsaken hem everilcan,
That worthly were in wede.
Ac natheles ichil to him fare
For to witen of his answare,
That douhti man of dede."
On a day withouten lesing
Th'erl him rode on dere hunting
And Sir Gii the conquerour,
Als thai riden on her talking
Thai speken togider of mani thing,
Of levedis bright in bour.
Th'erl seyd to Sir Gii hende and fre,
"Tel me the sothe par charité
Y pray thee, par amoure,
Hastow ment ever in thi live
Spouse ani wiman to wive
That falleth to thine anour?"
Sir Gii answerd and seyd than
"Bi Him," he seyd, "that this warld wan
To saven al mankende,
Bi nought that Y tel can
Y nil never spouse wiman
Save on is fre and hende."
"Sir," quath th'erl, "listen nou to me:
Y have a douhter bright on ble,
Y pray thee leve frende,
To wive wiltow hir understond
Y schal thee sese in al mi lond
To hold withouten ende."
"Gramerci," seyd Gii anon,
"So help me Crist and Seyn Jon
And Y schuld spouse a wive
Ich hadde lever hir bodi alon
Than winnen al this warldes won
With ani woman o live."6
Than seyd th'erl, "Gramerci,"
And in his armes he kist Sir Gii
And thonked him mani a sithe.
"Sir Gii," he seyd, "thou art mi frende,
Now thou wilt spouse mi dohter hende
Was Y never are so blithe."
"Ac certes," seyd th'erl so fre,
"Sir Gii, yif thou wilt trowe me
No lenger thou no schalt abide.
Now for fourtenight it schal be
The bridal hold with gamen and gle
At Warwike in that tyde."
Than was Sir Gii glad and blithe
His joie couthe he no man kithe,
To his ostel he gan ride.
And tho Gii com hom to his frende
He schuld spouse his douhter hende
He teld Herhaud that tide.
Th'erl Rouhaud as swithe dede sende
After lordinges fer and hende
That pris wel told in tour,
When the time was comen to th'ende
To chirche wel feir gun thai wende
With mirthe and michel anour.
Miche semly folk was gadred thare
Of erls, barouns, lasse and mare,
And levedis bright in bour.
Than spoused Sir Gii that day
Fair Felice that miri may
With joie and gret vigour.
When he hadde spoused that swete wight
The fest lasted a fourtennight
That frely folk in fere
With erl, baroun, and mani a knight
And mani a levedy fair and bright
The best in lond that were.
Ther wer giftes for the nones,
Gold and silver and precious stones
And druries riche and dere.
Ther was mirthe and melody
And al maner menstracie
As ye may fortheward here.
Ther was trumpes and tabour,
Fithel, croude, and harpour
Her craftes for to kithe;
Organisters and gode stivours,
Minstrels of mouthe and mani dysour
To glade tho bernes blithe.
Ther nis no tong may telle in tale
The joie that was at that bridale
With menske and mirthe to mithe,
For ther was al maner of gle
That hert might thinke other eyghe se
As ye may list and lithe.
Herls, barouns, hende and fre
That ther war gadred of mani cuntré
That worthliche were in wede,
Thai goven glewemen for her gle
Robes riche, gold and fe,
Her giftes were nought gnede.
On the fiftenday ful yare
Thai toke her leve for to fare
And thonked hem her gode dede.
Than hadde Gii that gentil knight
Feliis to his wil day and night
In gest also we rede.
When Gii hadde spoused that hendy flour,
Fair Feliis so bright in bour
That was him leve and dere,
Ywis, in Warwike in that tour
Fiftendays with honour
With joie togider thai were.
So it bifel that first night
That he neyghed that swete wight
A child thai geten yfere
And sethen with sorwe and sikeing sare
Her joie turned hem into care
As ye may forward here.
Than was Sir Gii of gret renoun
And holden lord of mani a toun
As prince proude in pride.
That Erl Rohaut and Sir Gyoun
In fretthe to fel the dere adoun
On hunting thai gun ride.
It bifel opon a somers day
That Sir Gii at Warwike lay -
In herd is nought to hide -
At night in tale as it is told
To bedde went tho bernes bold
Bi time to rest that tide.
To a turet Sir Gii is went
And biheld that firmament
That thicke with steres stode,
On Jhesu omnipotent
That alle his honour hadde him lent
He thought with dreri mode,
Hou he hadde ever ben strong werrour,
For Jhesu love, our Saveour,
Never no dede he gode.7
Mani man he hadde slayn with wrong;
"Allas, allas!" it was his song,
For sorwe he yede ner wode.
"Allas," he seyd, "that Y was born,
Bodi and soule icham forlorn,
Of blis icham al bare
For never in al mi liif biforn
For Him that bar the croun of thorn
Gode dede dede Y nare.
Bot wer and wo ichave don wrought
And mani a man to grounde ybrought,
That rewes me ful sare.
To bote min sinnes ichil wende
Barfot to mi lives ende
To bid mi mete with care."
As Gii stode thus in tour alon
In hert him was ful wo bigon,
"Allas!" it was his song.
Than com Feliis sone anon
And herd him make rewely mon
With sorwe and care among.
"Leman," sche seyd, "what is thi thought?
Whi artow thus in sorwe brought?
Me thenke thi pain wel strong.
Hastow ought herd of me bot gode8
That thou makes thus dreri mode?
Ywis, thou hast gret wrong."
"Leman," seyd Gii ogain,
"Ichil thee telle the sothe ful fain
Whi icham brought to grounde.
Sethen Y thee seyghe first with ayn -
Allas the while Y may sayn -
Thi love me hath so ybounde
That never sethen no dede Y gode9
Bot in wer schadde mannes blode
With mani a griseli wounde.
Now may me rewe al mi live
That ever was Y born o wive
Wayleway that stounde!"
"Ac yif ich hadde don half the dede
For Him that on Rode gan blede
With grimly woundes sare,
In Hevene He wald have quit mi mede
In joie to won with angels wede
Evermore withouten care.
Ac for thi love ich have al wrought,10
For His love dede Y never nought;
Jhesu amende mi fare.
Therfore ich wot that icham lorn.
Allas the time that Y was born,
Of blis icham al bare.
"Bot God is curteys and hende
And so dere he hath bought mankende
For no thing wil hem lete.
For His love ichil now wende
Barfot to mi lives ende
Mine sinnes forto bete
That whoreso Y lye anight
Y schal never be seyn with sight
Bi way no bi strete.
Of alle the dedes Y may do wel,
God graunt thee, lef, that halvendel11
And Marie His moder swete."
Than stode that hende levedi stille
And in hir hert hir liked ille
And gan to wepe anon.
"Leman," sche seyd, "what is thi wille?
Ywis, thi speche wil me spille.
Y not what Y may don.
Y wot thou hast in sum cuntré
Spoused another woman than me
That thou wilt to hir gon
And now thou wilt fro me fare.
Allas, allas, now cometh mi care!
For sorwe ichil me slon.
"For wer and wo thatow hast wrought
God that al mankende hath bought,
So curteys He is and hende,
Schrive thee wele in word and thought
And than thee tharf dout right nought
Ogaines the foule fende.
Chirches and abbays thou might make
That schal pray for thi sake
To Him that schope mankende.
Hastow no nede to go me fro;
Save thou might thi soule fram wo
In joie withouten ende."
"Leve leman," than seyd Sir Gii,
"Lete ben alle this reweful cri;
It is nought worth thi tale.
For mani a bern and knight hardi
Ich have ysleyn sikerly
And strued cites fale
And for ich have destrued mankin
Y schal walk for mi sinne
Barfot bi doun and dale.
That ich have with mi bodi wrought,
With mi bodi it schal be bought
To bote me of that bale.
"Leman," he seyd, "par charité,
Astow art bothe hende and fre
O thing Y thee pray:
Loke thou make no sorwe for me
Bot hold thee stille astow may be
Til tomorwe at day.
Gret wele thi fader that is so hende
And thi moder and al thi frende
Bi sond as Y thee say;
Grete wele Herhaud Y thee biseche;
Leman, God Y thee biteche,
Y wil fare forth in mi way.
"Leman, Y warn thee biforn
With a knave child thou art ycorn
That douhti beth of dede.
For Him that bar the croun of thorn,
Therfore, as sone as it is born
Pray Herhaud wight in wede
He teche mi sone as he wele can
Al the thewes of gentil man
And helpe him at his nede.
For he is bothe gode and hende
And ever he hath ben trewe and kende,
God quite him his mede.
"Leman," he seyd, "have here mi brond
And take mi sone it in his hond
Astow art hende and fre,
He may therwith ich understond
Winne the priis in everi lond
For better may non be.
Leman," he seyd, "have now godeday.
Ichil fare forth in mi way
And wende in mi jurné."
Thai kist hem in armes tuo
And bothe thai fel aswon tho -
Gret diol it was to se.
Gret sorwe thai made at her parting
And kist hem with eyghen wepeing,
Bi the hond sche gan him reche
"Leman," sche seyd, "have here this ring;
For Jhesus love heven-king
A word Y thee biseche:
When thou ert in fer cuntré
Loke heron and thenk on me
And God Y thee biteche."
With that word he went hir fro
Wepeand with eyghen to
Withouten more speche.
Now is Gii fram Warwike fare,
Unto the se he went ful yare
And passed over the flod.
The levedy bileft at hom in care
With sorwe and wo and sikeing sare;
Wel drery was hir mode.
"Allas, allas," it was hir song,
Hir here sche drough, hir hond sche wrong,
Hir fingres brast o blode.
Al that night til it was day
Hir song it was, "wayleway,"
For sorwe sche yede ner wode.
Hir lordes swerd sche drough biforn
And thought have slain hirself for sorn
Withouten more delay.
To sle hirselven er the child wer born
Sche thought hir soule it wer forlorn
Evermore at Domesday,
And that hir fader hir frendes ichon
Schuld seyn hir lord it hadde ydon
And were so fled oway.12
Therfore sche dede his swerd ogain
Elles for sorwe sche hadde hir slain
In gest as Y you say.
Arliche amorwe when it was day
To chaumber ther hir fader lay
Sche com wringand hir hond.
"Fader," sche seyd, "ichil thee say
Mi lord is went fro me his way
In pilgrimage to fond.
He wil passe over the se,
Schal he never com to me
Ogain into Inglond."
For sorwe that sche hadde that stounde
Aswon sche fel adoun to grounde,
O fot no might sche stonde.
"Douhter," seyd hir fader, "lat be,
Y trowe nought that Sir Gii the fre
Is thus fram thee fare.
Ywis, he nis nought passed the se;
He ne doth nought bot forto fond thee
Hou trewe of hert thou ware."
"Nay, sir," sche seyd, "so God me spede,
He is walked in pouer wede
To beggen his mete with care
And therfore now singen Y may
Allas the time and wayleway
That mi moder me bare."
Th'erl ros up with sikeing sare
For Sir Gii was fram him fare,
In hert him was ful wo
And alle his frendes, lesse and mare,
For Sir Gii thai hadde gret care
For he was went hem fro.
Thai sought him than al about
Within the cité and without
Ther he was won to go.
And when thai founde him nought that day
Ther was mani a "wayleway"
Wringand her hondes tuo.
And when Gii was fram hem gon
Herhaud and his frendes ichon
And other barouns him by
To th'erl Rohaut thai seyden anon,
"The best rede that we can don
Smertliche and hastily,
Messangers we schul now sende
Over alle this lond fer and hende
To seche mi lord Sir Gii
And yif he be nought in this lond
He is in Loreyn ich understond
With his brother Tirry."
Menssangers anon thai sende
Over al this lond fer and hende
Fram Londen into Louthe
Over al biyonde Humber and Trent
And est and west thurthout al Kent
To the haven of Portesmouthe.
Thai sought him over al up and doun
Over alle the lond in everich toun
Bi costes that wer couthe
And sethen to Warwike thai gan wende
And seyd thai might him nowhar fende
Bi north no bi southe.
Herhaud was wele understond
That Gii was fer in uncouthe lond.
Ful hende he was and fre,
Palmers wede he tok on hond
To seche his lord he wald fond
Unto the Grekis See.
To th'erl Rohaut he seyd anon
To seche his lord he most gon
Thurth alle Cristianté.
When th'erl seye him thus ydight
"Thou art," he seyd, "a trewe knight,
Yblisced mot thou be."
Tho went Herhaud so trewe in tale
To seche his lord in londes fale,
For nothing he nold abide;
He yede over alle bi doun and dale
To everi court and kinges sale
Bi mani a lond side.
Thurth Normondye and alle Speyne
Into Fraunce and thurth Breteyne
He yede bothe fer and wide;
Thurth Lorain and thurth Lombardye
And never no herd he telle of Gii
For nought that might bitide.
When Herhaud had sought him fer and hende
And he no might him nowhar fende,
Noither bi se no sond,
Into Inglond he gan wende
And th'erl Rohaut and al his frende
At Warwike he hem fond,
And teld he hadde his lord sought
And that he no might finde him nought
In nonskinnes lond.
Mani a moder child that day
Wepe and gan say, "waileway,"
Wel sore wringand her hond.
Now herken and ye may here
In gest yif ye wil listen and lere
Hou Gii as pilgrim yede.
He welke about with glad chere
Thurth mani londes fer and nere
Ther God him wald spede.
First he went to Jerusalem
And sethen he went to Bedlem
Thurth mani an uncouthe thede.
Yete he bithought him sethen tho
Forto sechen halwen mo
To winne him heven-mede.
Tho he went his pilgrimage
Toward the court of Antiage,
Bi this half that cité
He mett a man of fair parage,
Ycomen he was of heyghe linage
And of kin fair and fre.
Michel he was of bodi ypight,
A man he semed of michel might
And of gret bounté
With white hore heved and berd yblowe13
As white as ani driven snowe;
Gret sorwe than made he.
So gret sorwe ther he made
Sir Gii of him rewthe hade
He gan to wepe so sare.
His cloth he rent, his here totorn,
And curssed the time that he was born
Wel diolful was his fare;
More sorwe made never man.
Gii stode and loked on him than
And hadde of him gret care.
He seyd, "Allas and walewo,
Al mi joie it is ago,
Of blis icham al bare."
"Gode man, what artow," seyd Gii,
"That makest thus this reweful cri
And thus sorweful mone?
Me thenke for thee icham sori
For that thine hert is thus drery,
Thi joie is fro thee gon.
Telle me the sothe Y pray thee
For Godes love in Trinité
That this world hath in won.
For Jhesu is of so michel might
He may make thine hert light
And thou not never hou son."
"Gode man," seyd the pilgrim,
"Thou hast me frained bi God thin
To telle thee of mi fare
And alle the soth withouten les
Ichil thee telle hou it wes
Of blis hou icham bare.
So michel sorwe is on me steke
That min hert it wil tobreke
With sorwe and sikeing sare.
Forlorn ich have al mi blis
Y no schal never have joie, ywis,
In erthe Y wald Y ware.
"A man Y was of state sum stounde
And holden a lord of gret mounde
And erl of al Durras.
Fair sones ich hadde fiftene
And alle were knightes stout and kene;
Men cleped me th'erl Jonas.
Y trowe in this warld is man non,
Ywis, that is so wo bigon
Sethen the world made was,
For alle min sones ich have forlorn -
Better berns were non born -
Therfore Y sing 'allas.'
"For blithe worth Y never more:
Alle mi sones ich have forlore
Thurth a batayl unride,
Thurth Sarrayins that fel wore
To Jerusalem thai com ful yore
To rob and reve with pride.
And we toke our ost anon
Ogaines hem we gun gon
Bateyl of hem to abide;
The acountre of hem was so strong
That mani dyed ther among
Or we wald rest that tide.
"Thurth mi fiftene sone
Were the geauntes overcome
And driven doun to grounde.
Fiftene amirals ther wer nome,
The king gan fle with alle his trome
For drede of ous that stounde.
Ich and mi sones withouten lesing
Out of that lond we driven the king
And his men gaf dedli wounde.
The king him hight Triamour,
A lord he was of gret honour
And man of michel mounde.
"Than dede we wel gret foly:
We suwed him with maistrie
Into his owhen lond.
Into Alisaundre thai fleye owy,
The cuntré ros up with a cri
To help her king an hond.
In a brom feld ther wer hidde
Thre hundred Sarrayins wele yschridde
With helme and grimly brond,
Out of that brom thai lepen anon
And bilapped ous everichon
And drof ous alle to schond.
"Thai hewen at ous with michel hete
And we layd on hem dintes grete
And slouwen of her ferred,
And ar that we were alle ynome
Mani of hem were overcome
Ded wounded under wede.
Thai were to mani and we to fewe,
Al our armour thai tohewe
And stiked under ous our stede;
Yete we foughten afot long14
Til swerdes brosten that were strong
And than yeld we ous for nede.
"To the king we yolden ous al and some
That we might to raunsoun come
To save our lives ichon,
Into Alisaunder he ladde ous tho
And into his prisoun dede ous do,
Was maked of lime and ston.
Litel was our drink and lasse our mete,
For hunger we wende our lives lete;
Wel wo was ous bigon.
So were we ther alle that yer
With michel sorwe bothe yfere
That socour com ous non.
"So it bifel that riche Soudan
Made a fest of mani a man
Of thritti kinges bi tale.
King Triamour com to court tho
And Fabour his sone dede also
With knightes mani and fale
The thridde day of that fest
That was so riche and so honest
So derlich dight in sale.
After that fest that riche was
Ther bifel a wonder cas
Wherthurth ros michel bale.
"That riche Soudan hadde a sone
That was yhold a douhti gome,
Sadok was his name.
The kinges sone Fabour he cleped him to,
Into his chaumber thai gun go,
Tho knightes bothe ysame.
Sadok gan to Fabour sayn
Yif he wald ate ches playn
And held ogain him game,
And he answerd in gode maner
He wald play with him yfere
Withouten ani blame.
"Ate ches thai sett hem to playn,
Tho hendy knightes bothe tuayn
That egre were of sight.
Er thai hadde don half a game
With strong wretthe thai gan to grame,
Tho gomes michel of might.
Thurth a chek Fabour seyd for soth
Sadok in hert wex wroth
And missayd him anonright
And clepd him fiz a putayn
And smot him with might and main
Wherthurth ros michel fight.
"With a roke he brac his heved than
That the blod biforn out span
In that ich place.
'Sadok,' seyd than Fabour,
'Thou dost me gret deshonour
That thou me manace.
Nar thou mi lordes sone were
Thou schuldest dye right now here.
Schustow never hennes passe.'
Sadok stirt up to Fabour
And cleped him anon, 'Vile traitour!'
And smot him in the face.
"With his fest he smot him thore
That Fabour was agreved sore
And stirt up in that stounde.
The cheker he hent up fot-hot
And Sadok in the heved he smot
That he fel ded to grounde.
His fader sone he hath yteld
That he hath the Soudan sone aqueld
And goven him dethes wounde,
On hors thai lopen than bilive
Out of the lond thai gun drive
For ferd thai were yfounde.
"When it was the Soudan teld
That his sone was aqueld
And brought of his liif dawe
On al maner he him bithought
Hou that he him wreke mought
Thurth jugement of lawe.
After the king he sent an heyghe
To defende him of that felonie
That he his sone hath yslawe
And bot he wald com anon
With strengthe he schuld on him gon,
With wilde hors don him drawe.
"King Triamour com to court tho
And Fabour his sone dede also
To the Soudans parlement.
When thai biforn him comen beth
Thai were adouted of her deth
Her lives thai wende have spent
For the Soudan cleped hem fot-hot
And his sones deth hem atwot
And seyd thai were alle schent;
Bot thai hem therof were might
In strong perile he schuld hem dight
And to her jugement.15
"Than dede he com forth a Sarrayine -
Have he Cristes curs and mine
With boke and eke with belle -
Out of Egypt he was ycome,
Michel and griselich was that gome
With ani god man to duelle.
He is so michel and unrede
Of his sight a man may drede
With tong as Y thee telle;
As blac he is as brodes brend,
He semes as it were a fende
That comen were out of helle.
"For he is so michel of bodi ypight
Ogains him tuelve men have no might
Ben thai never so strong,
For he is four fot sikerly
More than ani man stont him bi,
So wonderliche he is long.
Yif King Triamour that ther was
Might fenden him in playn place
Of that michel wrong
Than is that vile glotoun
Made the Soudans champioun
Batayl of him to fong.
"King Triamour answerd than
To that riche Soudan
In that ich stounde
That he wald defende him wele ynough
That he never his sone slough
No gaf him dedli wounde.
When he seye Amoraunt so grim -
Ther durst no man fight with him
So grille he was on grounde -
Than asked he respite til a day
To finde another yif he may
Ogaines him durst founde.
"Than hadde he respite al that yere
And fourti days so was the maner
Thurth lawe was than in lond;
Yif himselven durst nought fight
Finde another yif he might
Ogaines him durst stond.
The king as swithe hom is went,
Over alle his lond anon he sent
After erl, baroun, and bond
And asked yif ani wer so bold -
Thriddendel his lond have he schold -
The batayl durst take an hond.
"Ac for nought that he hot might
Ther was non durst take the fight
With the geaunt for his sake.
Than was ich out of prisoun nome,
Biforn him he dede me come
Conseyl of me to take
And asked me at worde fewe
Yif Y wist other Y knewe
A man so mighti of strake
That for him durst take the fight;
Were he burjays other knight
Riche prince he wald him make.
"And yif Y might ani fende
He wald make me riche and al mi kende
And gif me gret honour
And wold sese into min hond
To helden thriddendel his lond
With cité, toun, and tour.
Ac ichim answerd than
In alle this warld was ther no man
To fight with that traitour
Bot yif it Gii of Warwike were
Or Herhaud of Ardern his fere
In warld thai bere the flour.
"When the king herd tho
That Y spac of tho knightes to
Ful blithe he was of chere,
He kist me so glad he was.
'Merci,' he seyd, 'Erl Jonas;
Thou art me leve and dere.
Yif ich hadde here Sir Gii
Or Herhaud that is so hardi
Of the maistri siker Y were.
And thou mightest bring me her on
Thee and thine sones Y schal lete gon
Fram prisoun quite and skere.'
"Bi mi lay he dede me swere
That Y schuld trewelich bode bere
To tho knightes so hende
And seyd to me as swithe anon
With michel sorwe he schuld me slon
Bot ichem might fende
And al mine sones do todrawe;
And ichim graunt in that thrawe
To bring hem out of bende.
Out of this lond Y went tho
With michel care and michel wo;
Y nist wider to wende.
"Y sought hem into the lond of Coyne,
Into Calaber and into Sessoyne,
And fro thennes into Almayne,
In Tuskan and in Lombardye,
In Fraunce and in Normondye,
Into the lond of Speyne,
In Braban, in Poil and in Bars,
And into kinges lond of Tars
And thurth al Aquitayne,
In Cisil, in Hungri and in Ragoun,
In Romayne, Borgoine, and Gastoine
And thurthout al Breteyne.
"And into Inglond wenden Y gan
And asked ther mani a man
Bothe yong and old,
And in Warwike that cité
Ther he was lord of that cuntré
For to haven in wold.
Ac Y no fond non lite no miche
That couthe telle me sikerliche
Of tho to knightes bold,
Wher Y schold Gii no Herhaud fende
In no lond fer no hende;
Therfore min hert is cold.
"For ich have the king mi trewthe yplight
That Y schal bring Gii now right
Yif he olives be.
And yive Y bring him nought anon
Wele ich wot he wil me slon -
Therfore wel wo is me -
And min sones he schal don hong
And todrawe with michel wrong,
Tho knightes hende and fre.
And yif thai dye gret harm it is
For hem ich have swiche sorwe, ywis,
Mine hert wil breken on thre."
"God man," seyd Gii, "listen me now,
For thine sones gret sorwe hastow
And no wonder it nis
When thou Gii and Herhaud hath sought
And thou no may hem finde nought;
Thi care is michel, ywis.
Thurth hem thine hope was to go fre
And thi sones al forth with thee
Thurth Godes help and his.
Sum time bi dayes old
For douhti men thai wer told
And holden of gret priis.
"Thurth Godes helpe our Dright -
He be min help and give me might
And leve me wele to spede -
And for Gyes love and Herhaud also
That thou hast sought with michel wo,
That douhti were of dede,
Batayl ichil now for thee fong
Ogain the geaunt that is so strong,
Thou seyst is so unrede.
And thei he be the fende outright
Y schal for thee take the fight
And help thee at this nede."
When th'erl herd him speke so
That he wald batayl fong for him tho
He biheld fot and heved.
Michel he was of bodi pight,
A man he semed of michel might
Ac pouerliche he was biweved.
With a long berd his neb was growe,
Miche wo him thought he hadde ydrowe.
He wende his wit were reved
For he seyd he wald as yern
Fight with that geaunt stern
Bot yif he hadde him preved.
"God man," than seyd he,
"God almighten foryeld it thee
That is so michel of might
Thatow wost batayl for me fong
Ogain the geaunt that is so strong;
Thou knowest him nought, Y plight,
For yif he loked on thee with wrake,
Sternliche with his eyghen blake,
So grim he is of sight
Wastow never so bold in al thi teime
Thatow durst batayl of him nim
No hold ogaines him fight."
"Gode man," seyd Gii, "lat be that thought
For swiche wordes help ous nought
Ogain that schrewe qued.
Mani hath loked me opon
With wicked wil, mani on
That wald han had min hed,
And thei no fled Y never yete
No never for ferd batayl lete,
For no man that brac bred.16
And thei he be the devels rote
Y schal nought fle him afot,
Bi Him that suffred ded."
"Leve sir," than seyd he,
"God of heven foryeld it te.
Thine wordes er ful swete."
For joie he hadde in hert that stounde;
On knes he fel adoun to grounde
And kist Sir Gyes fet.
Gii tok him up in armes to,
Into Alisaunder thai gun go
With the king to mete.
And when thai com into the tour
Bifor the king Sir Triamour
Wel fair thai gun him grete.
And when he seye th'erl Jonas
Unnethe he knewe him in the fas
So chaunged was his ble.
"Erl Jonas," seyd the king,
"Telle me now withouten lesing
Gii and Herhaud where ben he?"
Th'erl answerd and siked sore,
"Gii no Herhaud sestow no more
For sothe Y telle thee.
For hem ich have in Inglond ben
And Y no might hem nowhar sen,
Therfore wel wo is me.
"Ac the lond folk teld me in speche
That Gii was gon halwen to seche
Wel fer in uncouthe lond
And Herhaud after him is went
For to seche him verrament.
Noither of hem Y no fond.
Ac this man ich have brought to thee
That hath ben man of gret bounté
That wele dar take on hond
Ogain the geaunt that is so fel
Al for to fende thee ful wel
For drede wil he nought wond."
"Erl Jonas," seyd the king,
"Loke with him be no feynting17
That Y deseyved be.
And yif ther be thou schalt anon
Be honged and thi sones ichon."
"Y graunt, sir," than seyd he.
The king cleped Sir Gyoun
And asked him at schort resoun,
"What is thi name tel me?"
Sir Gii answerd to the king,
"Youn," he seyd, "withouten lesing
Men clepeth me in mi cuntré."
"What cuntré artow?" the king sede.
"Of Inglond, so God me rede;
Therin ich was yborn."
"O we," seyd the king, "artow Inglis knight?
Than schuld Y thurth skil and right
Hate thee ever more.
Knewe thou nought the gode Gii
Or Herhaud that was so hardi?
Tel me the sothe bifore.
Wele ought ich be Gyes fo man;
He slough mi brother Helmadan,
Thurth him icham forlore.
"Min em he slough, the riche Soudan,
Ate mete among ous everilkan.
Seyghe Y never man so bigin.
Y seyghe hou he his heved of smot
And bar it oway with him fot-hot
Maugré that was therinne.
After him we driven tho -
The devel halp him thennes to go,
Y trowe he is of his kinne.
Mahoun gaf that thou wer he,
Ful siker might Y than be
The maistri forto winne."
Sir Gii answerd to the king,
"Wel wele Y knowe withouten lesing
Herhaud so God me rede
And yif thou haddest her on here
Of the maistri siker thou were
The bateyl forto bede."
The king asked him anonright,
"Whi artow thus ivel ydight
And in thus pouer wede?
A feble lord thou servest, so thenketh me,
Or oway he hath driven thee
For sum ivel dede."18
"Nay, sir, for God," quath Gii,
"A wel gode Lord than serve Y.
With Him was no blame.
Wel michel honour He me dede
And gret worthschipe in everi stede
And sore ich have Him grame;
And therfore icham thus ydight
To cri Him merci day and night
Til we ben frendes same.
And mi Lord and Y frende be
Ichil wende hom to mi cuntré
And live with joie and game."
"Frende Youn," seyd the king,
"Wiltow fight for mi thing
Other Y schal another purvay?"
"Therfor com ich hider," quath Gii,
"Thurth Godes help and our Levedi
As wele as Y may.
Bot first th'erl Jonas and his sones
Schal be deliverd out of prisones
This ich selve day."
The king answerd, "Y graunt thee.
Mahoun he mot thine help be
That is mi lord verray."
"Nay," seyd Gii, "bot Marie sone
He mot to help come
For Mahoun is worth nought."
"Frende Youn," seyd the king,
"Understond now mi teling,
Al what ich have ythought
Yif that thou may overcom the fight
And defende me with right
The wrong is on me sought,
So michel Y schal for thee do
That men schal speke therof evermo
As wide as this warld is wrought.
"Alle the men that in my prisoun be
Thai schul be deliverd for love of thee
That Cristen men be told.19
Fram henne to Ynde that cité
Quite-claym thai schul go fre
Bothe yong and old.
And so gode pes Y schal festen anon
That Cristen men schul comen and gon
To her owhen wille in wold."
"Gramerci," than seyd Sir Gii,
"That is a fair gift sikerly,
God leve thee it wele to hold."
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