1060
1065
1070
1075
1080
1085
1090
1095
1100
1105
1110
1115
1120
1125
1130
1135
1140
1145
1150
1155
1160
1165
1170
1175
1180
1185
1190
1195
1200
1205
1210
1215
1220
1225
1230
1235
1240
1245
1250
1255
1260
1265
1270
1275
1280
1285
1290
1295
1300
1305
1310
1315
1320
1325
1330
1335
1340
1345
1350
1355
1360
1365
1370
1375
1380
1385
1390
1395
1400
1405
1410
1415
1420
1425
1430
1435
1440
1445
1450
1455
1460
1465
1470
1475
1480
1485
1490
1495
1500
1505
1510
1515
1520
1525
1530
1535
1540
1545
1550
1555
1560
1565
1570
1575
1580
1585
1590
1595
1600
1605
1610
1615
1620
1625
1630
1635
1640
1645
1650
1655
1660
1665
1670
1675
1680
1685
1690
1695
1700
1705
1710
1715
1720
1725
1730
1735
1740
1745
1750
1755
1760
1765
1770
1775
1780
1785
1790
1795
1800
1805
1810
1815
1820
1825
1830
1835
1840
1845
1850
1855
1860
1865
1870
1875
1880
1885
1890
1895
1900
1905
1910
1915
1920
1925
1930
1935
1940
1945
1950
1955
1960
1965
1970
1975
1980
1985
1990
1995
2000
2005
2010
2015
2020
2025
2030
2035
2040
2045
2050
2055
2060
2065
2070
2075
2080
2085
2090
2095
2100
2105
2110
2115
2120
2125
2130
2135
2140
2145
2150
2155
2160
2165
2170
2175
2180
2185
2190
2195
2200
2205
2210
2215
2220
2225
2230
2235
2240
2245
2250
2255
2260
2265
2270
2275
2280
2285
2290
2295
2300
2305
2310
2315
2320
2325
2330
2335
2340
2345
2350
2355
2360
2365
2370
2375
2380
2385
2390
2395
2400
2405
2410
2415
2420
2425
2430
2435
2440
2445
2450
|
Up he stirt in drede
And seyd, "Tristrem, alight,
For thou hast slayn mi stede.
Afot thou schalt fight."
Quath Tristrem, "So God me rede,
Therto icham al light."
Togider tho thai yede
And hewen on helmes bright
Saun fayl.
Tristrem as a knight
Faught in that batayle.
Moraunt of Yrland smot
Tristrem in the scheld
That half fel fram his hond
Ther adoun in the feld.
Tristrem, ich understond,
Anon the strok him yeld
With his gode brond.
Moraunt neighe he queld,
That knight.
Marke the batayl biheld
And wonderd of that fight.
Moraunt was unfayn
And faught with al his might;
That Tristrem were yslayn
He stird him as a knight.
Tristrem smot with main;
His swerd brak in the fight
And in Morauntes brain
Bileved a pece bright
With care.
And in the haunche right
Tristrem was wounded sare.
A word that pended to pride
Tristrem tho spac he:
"Folk of Yrland side,
Your mirour ye may se.
Mo that hider wil ride,
Thus graythed schul ye be."
With sorwe thai drough that tide
Moraunt to the se
And care.
With joie Tristrem the fre
To Mark, his em, gan fare.
His swerd he offred than
And to the auter it bare.
For Markes kinsman
Tristrem was loved thare.
A forward thai bigan
Therto thai alle sware:
For that lond fre he wan,
That king he schuld be thare,
To say,
Yif he olive ware
After Sir Markes day.
Thei Tristrem light thenke,
He is wounded ful sare.
Leches with salve and drink
Him cometh wide whare.
Thai lorn al her swink:
His pain was ay the mare.
No man no might for stink
Com ther Tristrem ware
Als than.
Ich man forsoke him thare
Bot Governayl, his man.
Thre yer in carebed lay
Tristrem, the trewe he hight,
That never no dought him day
For sorwe he hadde onight.
For diol no man no may
Sen on him with sight.
Ich man, for sothe to say,
Forsoke tho that knight
As thare.
Thai hadde don what he might;
Thai no rought of his fare
Til it was on a day
Til Mark he gan him mene.
Schortliche, sothe to say,
This tale was hem bituene.
"In sorwe ich have ben ay
Seththen ich alive have ben."
Marke seyde, "Wayleway
That ich it schuld ysene,
Swiche thing."
Tristrem, withouten wene,
A schip asked the King.
"Em," he seyd, "Y spille.
Of lond kepe Y namare.
A schip thou bring me tille,
Mine harp to play me thare,
Stouer ynough to wille
To kepe me, son you yare."
Thei Marke liked ille,
Tristrem to schip thai bare
And brought.
Who wold with him fare?
Governayle no lete him nought.
Tristremes schip was yare
And asked his benisoun.
The haven he gan outfare -
It hight Carlioun.
Niyen woukes and mare
He hobled up and doun.
A winde to wil him bare
To a stede ther him was boun
Neighehand.
Delvelin hight the toun,
An haven in Irland.
A winde thider him gan drive;
Schipmen him seighe neighehand.
In botes thai gun him stive
And drough him to the land.
A wounded man alive
In the schip thai fand.
He seyd bisiden a rive
Men wounded him and band
Unsounde.
No man might bi him stand
For stinking of his wounde.
Governail gan hem frain
What hight the se strand.
"Develin," thai seyd ogayn,
The schipmen that him fand.
Tho was Tristrem unfain
And wele gan understand,
Hir brother hadde he slain
That Quen was of the land
In fight.
"Tristrem" he gan doun lain
And seyd "Tramtris" he hight.
In his schip was that day
Al maner of gle
And al maner of lay
In lond that might be.
To the Quen tho seyd thay,
Morauntes soster the fre,
Ywounded swiche a man lay
That sorwe it was to se
And care.
A miri man were he
Yif he olive ware.
Sche was in Develin,
The fair levedi, the Quene,
Lovesom under line
And sleighest had ybene
And mest couthe of medicine.
That was on Tristrem sene.
Sche brought him of his pine,
To wite and nought at wene,
To say.
Sche sent him a plaster kene
To cast the stink oway.
A morwe when it was day,
The levedy of heighe priis
Com ther Tristrem lay
And asked what he is.
"Marchaund ich have ben ay;
Mi nam is Tramtris.
Robbers, for sothe to say,
Slough mine felawes, ywis,
In the se.
Thai raft me fowe and griis,
And thus wounded thai me."
An heye man he was like,
Thei he wer wounded sare.
His gles weren so sellike
That wonder thought hem thare.
His harp, his croude was rike,
His tables, his ches he bare.
Thai swore by Seyn Patrike
Swiche seighe thai never are
Er than:
"Yif he in hele ware,
He wer a miri man."
The levedi of heighe kenne
His woundes schewe sche lete,
To wite his wo unwinne;
So grimli he gan grete,
His bon brast under skinne,
His sorwe was unsete.
Thai brought him to an inne;
A bath thai made him sket
So lithe
That Tristrem on his fet
Gon he might swithe.
Salves hath he soft
And drinkes that er lithe.
Thai no rought hou dere it bought
Bot held him al so swithe.
He made his play aloft;
His gamnes he gan kithe.
Forthi was Tristrem oft
To boure cleped fele sithe
To sete.
Ich man was lef to lithe,
His mirthes were so swete.
The king had a douhter dere;
That maiden Ysonde hight
That gle was lef to here
And romaunce to rede aright.
Sir Tramtris hir gan lere
Tho with al his might
What alle pointes were,
To se the sothe in sight,
To say.
In Yrlond nas no knight
With Ysonde durst play,
Ysonde of heighe priis,
The maiden bright of hewe
That wered fow and griis
And scarlet that was newe.
In warld was non so wiis
Of craft that men knewe
Withouten Sir Tramtris
That al games of grewe
On grounde.
Hom longeth Tramtris the trewe,
For heled was his wounde.
Sir Tramtris in Irlond
Duelled al a yere;
So gode likeing he fand
That hole he was and fere.
The Quen to fot and hand
He served dern and dere.
Ysonde he dede understand
What alle playes were
In lay.
His leve he asked at here
In schip to founde oway.
The Quen that michel can
To Tramtris sche gan say,
"Whoso fet uncouthe man,
He foundeth ever oway."
His hire thai yolden him than,
Gold and silver, Y say.
What he wold, he wan
Of Ysonde for his play
Saun fail.
He bitaught hem God and gode day; 10
With him went Governail
Riche sail thai drewe
White and red so blod.
A winde to wil hem blewe;
To Carlioun thai yode.
Now hat he Tristrem trewe
And fareth over the flod.
The schip the cuntré knewe;
It thought hem ful gode
As thare.
Of wrake thai understode
For on thai leten him fare.
Thai tolden to the King
That the schip had sain.
Never of no tiding
Nas Mark the King so fain.
To toun thai gun him bring;
The King ros him ogayn.
Blithe was her meteing,
And fair he gain him frain
That stounde:
"Tristrem, nought to lain,
Heled is thi wounde?"
His em answer he yeld
That litel he wald wene.
Of bot sche was him beld
That Moraunt soster had bene.
Hou fair sche hath him held
He told hem al bidene.
And seththen Tristrem hath teld
Of Ysonde that was kene,
Al newe,
Hou sche was bright and schene,
Of love was non so trewe.
Mark to Tristrem gan say,
"Mi lond bitake Y the
To han after mi day:
Thine owhen schal it be.
Bring thou me that may
That ich hir may yse."
This was his maner ay
Of Ysonde than speketh he
Her prise,
Hou sche was gent and fre.
Of love was non so wise.
In Inglond ful wide
The barouns hem bithought
To fel Tristremes pride
Hou thai fairest mought.
The King thai rad to ride, 11
A Quen to him thai sought
That Tristrem might abide
That he no were it nought,
No king.
Thai seyd that Tristrem mought
Ysonde of Irlond bring.
A brid bright thai ches
As blod opon snoweing:
"A maiden of swiche reles
Tristrem may to the bring."
Quath Tristrem, "It is les
And troweth it for lesing;
To aski that never no wes,
It is a fole askeing
Bi kinde;
It is a selli thing
For no man may it finde.
Y rede ye nought no strive.
A swalu ich herd sing.
Ye sigge ich wern mi nem to wive 12
For Y schuld be your king.
Now bringeth me atte rive
Schip and other thing.
Ye se me never olive
Bot yif ich Ysonde bring,
That bright.
Finde me min askeing,
Mine fiftend som of knight."
Knightes tho chosen thai
That were war and wise,
Al that mest may
And heighest weren of priis.
A schip with grene and gray,
With vair and eke with griis,
With alle thing, Y say,
That pende to marchandis
In lede.
Thai ferden of this wise
Intil Yrlond thede.
In his schip was boun
Al that mister ware.
Out of Carlioun
Riche was his schip fare.
Thai rered goinfaynoun;
A winde to wille hem bare.
Develin hat the toun
To lond thai comen thare,
The best.
The King present thai bare
And asked leve to rest.
The King present thai brought,
Another to the Quene;
Ysonde forgat thai nought,
To wite and nought at wene.
To schip when thai hem thought
That at the court hadde bene -
Swiche mayde nas never wrought
That thai ever hadde sene
With sight -
The cuntré alle bidene
Thai seighe fle ful right.
Out of Develin toun
The folk wel fast ran
In a water to droun,
So ferd were thai than.
For doute of o dragoun
Thai seyd to schip thai wan
To haven that were boun.
No rought thai of what man
In lede
That may him sle or can
Ysonde schal have to mede. 13
Tristrem, blithe was he.
He cleped his knightes stithe:
"What man he is, las se,
That take this bataile swithe."
Alle thai beden lat be;
Durst non himselven kithe.
"For nede now wo is me,"
Seyd Tristrem that sithe
Right than.
Listen now, who wil lithe
Al of an hardi man.
A stede of schip thai drewe,
The best that he hadde brought.
His armes weren al newe,
That richeliche were wrought.
His hert was gode and trewe:
No failed it him nought.
The cuntré wele he knewe
Er he the dragoun sought
And seighe.
Helle-fere, him thought,
Fram that dragoun fleighe.
Asaut to that dragoun
Tristrem toke that tide
As a lothely lioun
That bataile wald abide.
With a spere feloun
He smot him in the side.
It no vailed o botoun;
Oway it gan to glide,
His dent.
The devel dragouns hide
Was hard so ani flint.
Tristrem, al in tene,
Eft that spere tok he.
Ogain that dragoun kene
It brast on peces thre.
The dragoun smot bidene;
The stede he gan sle.
Tristrem, withouten wene,
Stirt under a tre
Al stille
And seyd, "God in Trinité,
No lat thou me nought spille."
Ogain that fende dragoun
Afot he tok the fight.
He faught with his fauchoun
As a douhti knight.
His nether chavel he smot doun
With a stroke of might.
Tho was the dragon boun
And cast fere ful right
And brend
His armes that were bright;
Schamliche he hath hem schent.
Swiche fer he cast ogain
That brend scheld and ston.
Now lith his stede yslain,
His armes brent ichon.
Tristrem raught his brain
And brak his nek bon.
No was he never so fain
As than that batail was don.
To bote,
His tong hath he ton
And schorn of bi the rote.
In his hose next the hide
The tong oway he bar.
No yede he bot ten stride
His speche les he thar.
Nedes he most abide
That he no may ferther far.
The steward com that tide;
The heved oway he schar
And brought
And tok it Ysonde thar
And seyd dere he hadde hir bought.
The steward wald ful fain
Han Ysonde, yif he mought.
The King answerd ogain,
Fair the bataile him thought.
Ysonde, nought to lain,
Of him no wil sche nought.
There the dragoun was slain
Hye and hir moder sought
Al so
Who that wonder wrought,
That durst that dragoun slo.
"Dede the steward this dede?"
"Certes," quath Ysonde, "nay.
This ich brende stede
No aught he never a day,
No this riche wede
Nas never his, sothe to say."
Forther als thai yede,
A man thai founde whare lay
And drough.
"Certes," than seyd thai,
"This man the dragoun slough."
His mouthe opened thai
And pelt treacle in that man.
When Tristrem speke may,
This tale he bigan
And redyli gan to say
Hou he the dragoun wan.
"The tong Y bar oway;
Thus venimed he me than."
Thai loke.
The Quen that michel can
Out of his hose it toke.
Thai seighen he hadde the right;
The steward hadde the wough.
And yif he durst fight
With him the dragoun slough,
Tristrem spak as a knight,
He wold prove it anough.
So noblelich he hem hight,
Therof Ysonde lough
That tide.
To his waraunt he drough
His schippe and al his pride.
The Quen asked what he is
That durst the dragon abide.
"Marchaunt icham, ywis;
Mi schip lith here biside.
He seyt he hath don this,
Proven ichil his pride
Er he Ysonde kisse."
Ogaines him wald he ride
With might.
Ysonde seyd that tide,
"Allas that thou ner knight!"
Her chaumpioun that day
Richeliche gun thai fede
Til hem think that he may
Don a douhti dede.
His armes, long were thai,
His scholders large on brede.
The Quen, for sothe to say,
To a bath gan him lede
Ful gayn,
And seththen hirself sche yede
After a drink of main.
Ysonde, bright of hewe,
Thought it Tramtris ware.
His swerd, sche gan it schewe,
And broken hye fond it thare.
Out of a cofer newe
The pece sche drough ful yare
And sett it to that trewe.
It nas lasse no mare,
Bot right.
Tho thought Ysonde with care
To sle Tristrem the knight.
Ysonde to Tristrem yode
With his swerd al drain.
"Moraunt, mi nem the gode,
Traitour, thou hast slain;
Forthi thine hert blode
Sen ich wold ful fain."
The Quen whende sche were wode.
Sche com with a drink of main
And lough.
"Nay, moder, nought to layn,
This thef thi brother slough.
"Tristrem, this thef is he;
That may be nought forlain.
The pece thou might her se
That fro mi nem was drain.
Loke that it so be;
Sett it even ogain."
As quik thai wald him sle
Ther, Tristrem, ful fain,
Soth thing.
In bath thai hadden him slain
No were it for the King.
And ever Tristrem lough
On swete Ysonde the bright:
"Thou might have slain me ynough
Tho that Y Tramtris hight.
Ye witeth me with wough
Of Moraunt, the noble knight.
Y graunt wele ichim slough
In batayl and in fight,
Nought lain.
Yif he hadde had the might
So wold he me ful fain.
Tho Y Tramtris hight,
Y lerde the play and song,
And ever with al mi might
Of the Y spac among
To Marke, the riche knight,
That after the he gan long."
So swore he day and night,
And borwes fond he strong
Bidene,
Amendes of al wrong,
That Ysonde schuld be quen.
Tristrem swore that thing;
Thai seyd it schuld stand
That he schuld Ysonde bring -
Thai token it under hand -
To Mark, the riche king,
Olive yif thai him fand,
And make hir with his ring
Quen of Ingeland,
To say.
The forward fast thai band
Er thai parted oway.
The steward forsoke his dede
Tho he herd he Tristrem hight.
The King swore, so God him spede,
That bothen schuld have right.
The steward seyd wrong ther yede;
Forthi nold he nought fight.
Tristrem to his mede
Thai yolden Ysonde the bright;
To bring
To prisoun that other knight
The maiden biseketh the King.
No asked he lond no lithe
Bot that maiden bright.
He busked him al so swithe,
Bothe squier and knight.
Her moder about was blithe
And tok a drink of might
That love wald kithe
And tok it Brengwain the bright
To think,
"At er spouseing anight
Gif Mark and hir to drink."
Ysonde, bright of hewe,
Is fer out in the se.
A winde ogain hem blewe
That sail no might ther be.
So rewe the knightes trewe,
Tristrem, so rewe he,
Ever as thai com newe
He on ogain hem thre,
Gret swink.
Swete Ysonde the fre
Asked Bringwain a drink.
The coupe was richeli wrought:
Of gold it was, the pin.
In al the warld nas nought
Swiche drink as ther was in.
Brengwain was wrong bithought.
To that drink sche gan win
And swete Ysonde it bitaught.
Sche bad Tristrem bigin,
To say.
Her love might no man tuin
Til her ending day.
An hounde ther was biside
That was ycleped Hodain;
The coupe he licked that tide
Tho doun it sett Bringwain.
Thai loved al in lide
And therof were thai fain.
Togider thai gun abide
In joie and ek in pain
For thought.
In ivel time, to sain,
The drink was ywrought.
Tristrem in schip lay
With Ysonde ich night;
Play miri he may
With that worthli wight
In boure night and day.
Al blithe was the knight,
He might with hir play.
That wist Brengwain the bright
As tho.
Thai loved with al her might
And Hodain dede also.
Tuai wikes in the strand
No seyl thai no drewe.
Into Inglond
A winde to wille hem blewe.
The King on hunting thai fand.
A knave that he knewe,
He made him knight with hand
For his tidinges newe
Gan bring.
Ysonde, bright of hewe,
Ther spoused Mark the King.
He spoused hir with his ring;
Of fest no speke Y nought.
Brengwain, withouten lesing,
Dede as hye had thought.
Sche tok that love drink
That in Yrlond was bought.
For Ysonde to the King
Brengwain to bed was brought
That tide.
Mark his wille wrought
On bed Brengwain biside.
When Mark had tint his swink,
Ysonde to bed yede;
Of Yrlond hye asked drink; 14
The coupe sche gan hir bede,
Biside hir sche lete it sink.
Therof hadde sche no nede
Of non maner thing
Ogain Tristrem, in lede,
As tho.
No might no clerk it rede,
The love bituen hem to.
Thai wende have joie anough;
Certes, it nas nought so.
Her wening was al wough,
Untroweand til hem to.
Aither in langour drough
And token rede to go;
And seththen Ysonde lough
When Tristrem was in wo
With wille.
Now thenketh Ysonde to slo
Brengwain and hir to spille.
Sche thought, "Y may be wroth.
Sche lay first bi the King
For Y bihight hir cloth,
Gold and riche wedding.
Tristrem and Y boathe
Beth schent for our playing.
Better is that we rathe
Hir o live bring
Al stille.
Than doute we for no thing
That we ne may han our wille."
The Quen bad her biside
To werkemen on a day.
Sche told hem at that tide
What was her wille to say:
"Ye moten slen and hide
Bringwain, that miri may."
Sche seyd, "Ye schal abide
Riche to ben ay
In lede.
No lete ye for no pay
That ye no do that dede." 15
Into a grisly clough
Thai and that maiden yode.
That on his swerd out drough;
That other bihinde hir stode.
Sche crid merci anough
And seyd, "For Cristes Rode!
What have Y don wough?
Whi wille ye spille mi blode?"
"Nought lain,
Ysonde, the levedi gode,
Hath hot thou schalt be slain."
Brengwain dernly
Bad hem say the Quen:
"Greteth wele mi levedy
That ai trewe hath ben.
Smockes hadde sche and Y
And hir was solwy to sen,
Bi Mark tho hye schuld ly.
Y lent hir min al clen,
As thare.
Ogain hir, wele Y wen,
No dede Y never mare."
Thai nold hir nought slo
Bot went ogain to the Quen.
Ysonde asked hem to,
"What seyd hye you bituen?"
"Hye bad ous say you so:
`Your smock was solwy to sen,
Bi Mark tho ye schuld ly;
Y lent hir min al clene
That day."'
Tho asked Ysonde the ken,
"Whare is that trewe may?"
Tho seyd Ysonde with mode,
"Mi maiden ye han slain."
Sche swore bi Godes Rode
Thai schuld ben hong and drain.
Sche bede hem giftes gode
To fechen hir ogain.
Thai fetten hir ther sche stode.
Tho was Ysonde ful fain,
To say.
So trewe sche fond Brengwain
That sche loved hir wele ay.
Made was the saughtening
And alle forgeve bidene.
Tristrem, withouten lesing,
Played with the Quen.
Fram Irlond to the King
An harpour com bituen.
An harp he gan forth bring,
Swiche no hadde thai never sen
With sight.
Himself, withouten wen,
Bar it day and night.
Ysonde he loved in are,
He that the harp brought.
About his hals he it bare;
Richelich it was wrought.
He hidde it evermare,
Out no com it nought.
"Thine harp whi wiltow spare,
Yif thou therof can ought
Of gle?"
"Out no cometh it nought
Withouten giftes fre."
Mark seyd, "Lat me se
Harpi hou thou can
And what thou askest me
Give Y schal the than."
"Blethely," seyd he;
A miri lay he bigan.
"Sir King, of giftes fre,
Herwith Ysonde Y wan
Bidene.
Y prove the for fals man
Or Y schal have thi Quen."
Mark to conseyl yede
And asked rede of tho to. 16
"Lesen Y mot mi manhed
Or yeld Ysonde me fro."
Mark was ful of drede;
Ysonde lete he go.
Tristrem in that nede
At wode was, dere to slo,
That day.
Tristrem com right tho
As Ysonde was oway. 17
Tho was Tristrem in ten
And chidde with the King:
"Gifstow glewemen thi Quen?
Hastow no nother thing?"
His rote, withouten wen,
He raught bi the ring;
Tho folwed Tristrem the ken
To schip ther thai hir bring
So blithe.
Tristrem bigan to sing,
And Ysonde bigan to lithe.
Swiche song he gan sing
That hir was swithe wo.
Her com swiche lovelonging,
Hir hert brast neighe ato.
Th'erl to hir gan spring
With knightes mani mo
And seyd, "Mi swete thing,
Whi farestow so,
Y pray?"
Ysonde to lond most go
Er sche went oway.
"Within a stounde of the day
Y schal ben hole and sounde.
Ich here a menstrel; to say,
Of Tristrem he hath a soun."
Th'erl seyd, "Dathet him ay
Of Tristrem yif this stounde.
That minstrel for his lay
Schal have an hundred pounde
Of me
Yif he wil with ous founde,
Lef, for thou lovest his gle."
His gle al for to here
The levedi was sett on land
To play bi the rivere;
Th'erl ladde hir bi hand.
Tristrem, trewe fere,
Mirie notes he fand
Opon his rote of yvere
As thai were on the strand
That stounde.
Thurch that semly sand
Ysonde was hole and sounde.
Hole sche was and sounde
Thurch vertu of his gle.
Forthi th'erl that stounde,
Glad a man was he.
Of penis to hundred pounde
He gaf Tristrem the fre.
To schip than gun thai founde;
In Yrlond wald thai be
Ful fain,
Th'erl and knightes thre
With Ysonde and Bringwain.
Tristrem tok his stede
And lepe theron to ride.
The Quen bad him her lede
To schip him biside.
Tristrem dede as hye bede;
In wode he gan hir hide.
To th'erl he seyd, "In that nede
Thou hast ytent thi pride,
Thou dote.
With thine harp thou wonne hir that tide;
Thou tint hir with mi rote."
Tristrem with Ysonde rade
Into the wode oway.
A loghe thai founden made
Was ful of gamen and play.
Her blis was ful brade,
And joieful was that may.
Seven night thai thare abad
And seththen to court com thai.
"Sir King,"
Tristrem gan to say,
"Gif minstrels other thing."
Meriadok was a man
That Tristrem trowed ay.
Miche gode he him an.
In o chaumber thai lay.
Tristrem to Ysonde wan
A night with hir to play.
As man that miche kan,
A bord he toke oway
Of her bour.
Er he went, to say,
Of snowe was fallen a schour.
A schour ther was yfalle
That al the way was white.
Tristrem was wo withalle,
With diol and sorwe and site.
Bituen the bour and the halle
The way was naru and lite.
Swiche cas him was bifalle
As we finde in scrite.
Ful sket
A sive he fond tite
And bond under his fete.
Meriadok with his might
Aros up al bidene.
The way he went right
Til he com to the Quen.
The bord he fond of-tuight,
To wite and nought at wene.
Of Tristrem kertel the knight
He fond a pece grene
Of tore.
Meriadok the kene
Wondred therfore.
A morwe he tolde the King
Al that he seighe with sight.
"Lord, withouten lesing,
With Ysonde lay Tristrem to night.
Thou schalt do swiche a thing,
Aske who her yeme might.
The croice to Jerusalem bring 18
Say thou hast yhight,
Yif thou may.
'Tristrem the noble knight,'
The Quen hirself wil say."
The King told the Quen,
Abed tho thai ware,
"Dame, withouten wene,
To Jerusalem Y mot fare;
Loke now ous bituene
Who may the kepe fram care."
"For al other bidene
Tristrem," sche seyd thare,
"For than
Y love him wele the mare
He is thi kinsseman."
Al that Mark hir told
A morwe hye told Bringwain:
"Of lond wil this bold.
Now we may be ful fain.
Tristrem the court schal hold
Til he com ogain."
Brengwain answere yolde,
"Your dedes han ben sain
With sight.
Mark thiself schal frain
Al otherloker tonight.
"Wite thou wele his wille;
To wende with him thou say,
And yif he loveth the stille,
`Thou do Tristrem oway'
Biseche him he se thertille,
Thi fo is Tristrem ay.
Thou dredest he wil the spille
Yif he the maistrie may
Above;
Thou lovedest him never a day
Bot for his emes love."
Ysonde the nexst night
Crid, "Mark, thi nore!
Mi fo thou hast me hight;
On me thou sinnes sore.
Gode yif thou hadde me hight 19
Of lond with the to fare,
And sle Tristrem the knight,
Yif love of the no ware,
This day;
For mani man seyt aywhare
That Tristrem bi me lay."
Mark is blithe and glad,
For al that trowed he.
He that him other tald,
He ne couthe him bot maugré.
Meriadok him answere yald,
"In toun thou do him be.
Her love laike thou bihald
For the love of me,
Nought wene.
Bi resoun thou schalt se
That love is hem bituene."
Mark departed hem to
And dede Tristrem oway;
Nas never Ysonde so wo
No Tristrem, sothe to say.
Ysonde herself wald slo;
For sorwe Tristrem lay.
Ysonde morned so
And Tristrem night and day
For dede.
Ich man it se may,
What liif for love thai lede.
Tristrem was in toun;
In boure Ysonde was don.
Bi water he sent adoun
Light linden spon.
He wrot hem al with roun;
Ysonde hem knewe wel sone.
Bi that Tristrem was boun
Ysonde wist his bone
To abide.
Er amorwe none
Her aither was other biside.
Quath Meriadok, "Y rede
Thine hunters thou bid ride
Fourtennight at this nede
To se thine forestes wide.
Tristrem thou hem bede.
Thiself thou here abide,
And right at her dede
Thou schalt hem take that tide.
In the tre,
Here thou schalt abide;
Her semblaunt thou schalt se."
In orchard mett thai inne,
Tristrem and Ysonde fre.
Ay when thai might awinne,
Ther playd Ysonde and he.
The duerve yseighe her ginne
Ther he sat in the tre.
Mark of riche kinne
He hight to don him se
With sight
And seyd, "Sir, siker ye be,
Thiself schal se that right."
His falsnesse for to fille
Forth tho went he.
To Tristrem he com with ille
Fram Ysonde the fre.
"Mi levedy me sent the tille
For icham privé,
And praieth the with wille
That thou wost hir se
With sight.
Mark is in other cuntré;
Privé it schal be dight."
Tristrem him bithought.
"Maister, thank have ye
For thou me this bode brought.
Mi robe give Y the
That thou no lete it nought
Say that levedy fre
Hir wordes dere Y bought.
To Marke hye bileighe me,
That may.
Tomorwe Y schal hir se
At chirche, for sothe to say."
The duerve toke the gate,
And Mark he told bidene,
"Bi this robe Y wate
That michel he loveth the Quene.
Ysame we nought no sat.
He douteth me bituene.
It semeth by his lat
As he hir never had sene
With sight.
Y wot withouten wene
He cometh to hir tonight."
Sir Mark sat in the tre
Ther metten thai to.
The schadowe Tristrem gan se
And loude spac he tho,
That Ysonde schuld Mark se
And calle Tristrem hir fo:
"Thou no aughtest nought here to be;
Thou no hast nought here to go
No thing.
With right, men schuld the slo,
Durst Y, for the King. 20
"Ysonde, thou art mi fo;
Thou sinnest, levedi, on me.
Thou gabbest on me so
Mi nem nil me nought se.
He threteneth me to slo.
More menske were it to the
Better for to do,
Bi God in Trinité,
This tide.
Or Y this lond schal fle
Into Wales wide."
"Tristrem, for sothe to say,
Y wold the litel gode,
Ac Y the wraied never day,
Y swere bi Godes Rode.
Men said thou bi me lay,
Thine em so understode.
Wende forth in thi way;
It semes astow were wode,
To wede.
Y loved never man with mode
Bot him that hadde mi maidenhede."
"Swete Ysonde, thi nare!
Thou preye the King for me,
Yif it thi wille ware
Of sake he make me fre.
Of lond ichil elles fare;
Schal he me never se."
Markes hert was sare
Ther he sat in the tre
And thought,
"Ungiltles er ye
In swiche a sclaunder brought."
"Thou seyst Y gan the wrie;
Men seis thou bi me lay,
Ac thei ich wende to dye, 21
Thine erand Y schal say.
Marke thi nem his heighe;
Anough he the give may.
No reche Y what Y lighe,
So that thou be oway
With wille."
Marke tho thought ay,
"Yete he schal duelle stille."
Tristrem oway went so,
Ysonde to boure, ywis.
Nas never Mark so wo;
Himself he herd al this.
Al sori Mark gan go
Til he might Tristrem kisse;
And dedely hated he tho
Him that seyd amis.
Al newe
Ther was joie and blis,
And welcom Tristrem trewe.
Now hath Ysonde her wille:
Tristrem constable is heighe.
Thre yere he playd stille
With Ysonde bright so beighe.
Her love might no man felle,
So were thai bothe sleighe.
Meriadok with ille
Waited hem ful neighe
Of her dede.
Yif he might hem spille,
Fain he wald spede.
Meriadok wrayeth ay.
To the King thus seyd he:
"Her folies usen thai ay;
Wel yore Y seyd it the.
Loke now on a day
And blod lat you thre.
Do as Y the say,
And tokening thou schalt se
Ful sone.
Her bed schal blodi bene
Ar he his wille have done."
Blod leten was the King,
Tristrem and the Quene.
At her blod leteing
The flore was swopen clene.
Meriadok dede floure bring
And strewed it bituene
That go no might no thing
Bot yif it were sene
With sight.
Thritti fet bidene
Tristrem lepe that night.
Now Tristrem willes is
With Ysonde for to play.
He no may hir com to kisse,
So ful of floure it lay.
Tristrem lepe, ywis,
Thritti fete, soth to say.
As Tristrem dede this,
His blod bende brast oway
And bled;
And seththen ogain the day
He lepe fram hir bedde.
Thritti fete bituene
He lepe, withouten les.
Sore him greved his vene,
As it no wonder nes.
Mark her bed hadde sen,
And al blodi it wes.
He told tho Brengwain
Tristrem hadde broken his pes
Bituene.
Anon of lond he ches
Out of Markes eiye-sene.
Tristrem was fled oway,
To wite and nought to wene.
At Londen on a day,
Mark wald spourge the Quen.
Men seyd sche brak the lay.
A bischop yede bituene.
With hot yren, to say,
Sche thought to make hir clene
Of sake.
Ysonde said bidene
That dome sche wald take.
Men sett the merkes there
At Westeminster ful right,
Hot yren to bere
For Sir Tristrem the knight.
In pouer wede to were
Tristrem com that night
(Of alle the knightes here
No knewe him non bi sight
Bidene)
To swete Ysonde bright
As forward was hem bituene.
Over Temes sche schuld ride,
That is an arm of the se.
"To the schip side
This man schal bere me."
Tristrem hir bar that tide
And on the Quen fel he
Next her naked side
That mani man might yse
San schewe.
Hir queynt aboven hir kne
Naked the knightes knewe.
In water thai wald him sink
And wers, yif thai may.
"Ye quite him ivel his swink,"
The Quene seyd to hem ay.
"It semeth mete no drink
Hadde he nought mani a day.
For poverté, methenk,
He fel, for sothe to say,
And nede.
Geveth him gold, Y pray;
He may bidde God me spede."
Gold thai goven him thare.
The constori thai bigan.
Swete Ysonde sware
Sche was giltles woman:
"Bot on to schip me bare - 19
The knightes seighe wele than
Whatso his wille ware;
Ferli neighe he wan,
Sothe thing -
So neighe com never man
Bot mi lord, the King."
Swete Ysonde hath sworn
Hir clene, that miri may.
To hir thai had ycorn
Hot yren, Y say.
The knightes were biforn;
For hir tho praiden thai.
The yren sche hadde yborn,
Ac Mark forgave that day
And dede.
Meriadok held thai
For fole in his falshede.
Ysonde is graunted clene
Meriadok, maugré his.
Never er nas the Quen
So wele with Mark, ywis.
Tristrem, withouten wene,
Into Wales he is.
In bataile he hath ben
And fast he fraines this
Right thare.
For he ne may Ysonde kisse,
Fight he sought aywhare.
In Wales tho was a king
That hight Triamour.
He hadde a douhter ying,
Was hoten Blauncheflour.
Urgan with gret wering
Biseged him in his tour
To winne that swete thing
And bring hir to his bour
With fight.
Tristrem with gret honour
Bicom the Kinges knight.
Urgan gan Wales held
With wrong, for sothe to say;
Oft and unselde
Of Triamour tok he pray.
Triamour to Tristrem teld,
Opon a somers day,
Wales he wald him yeld
Yif he it winne may
Right than.
Tristrem, withouten nay,
With were Wales wan.
Tristrem mett Urgan
In that feld to fight.
To him seyd he than
As a douhti knight,
"Thou slough mi brother Morgan
At the mete ful right.
As Y am douhti man,
His deth thou bist tonight,
Mi fo."
Tristrem seyd, "Aplight,
So kepe Y the to slo."
Tuelve fete was the wand
That Urgan wald with play.
His strok may no man stand.
Ferly yif Tristrem may!
Tristrem vantage fand;
His clobbe fel oway;
And of the geauntes hand
Tristrem smot that day
In lede.
Tristrem, for sothe to say,
The geaunt gert he blede.
Urgan, al in tene,
Faught with his left hand
Ogain Tristrem kene.
A stern stroke he fand
Opon his helme so schene,
That to the grounde he wand.
Bot up he stirt bidene
And heried Godes sand
Almight.
Tristrem with his brand
Fast gan to fight.
The geaunt aroume he stode;
His hond he tint, ywis.
He fleighe as he were wode,
Ther that the castel is.
Tristrem trad in the blod
And fond the hond that was his.
Away Sir Tristrem yode.
The geaunt com with this
And sought
To hele his honde that was his.
Salves hadde he brought.
Urgan, the geaunt unride,
After Sir Tristrem wan.
The cuntré fer and wide
Ygadred was bi than.
Tristrem thought that tide,
"Y take that me Gode an."
On a brigge he gan abide,
Biheld ther mani a man.
Thai mett.
Urgan to Tristrem ran,
And grimli there thai gret.
Strokes of michel might
Thai delten hem bituene,
That thurch her brinies bright
Her bother blod was sene.
Tristrem faught as a knight;
And Urgan, al in tene,
Gaf him a stroke unlight:
His scheld he clef bituene
A tuo,
Tristrem, withouten wene,
Nas never are so wo.
Eft Urgan smot with main,
And of that stroke he miste.
Tristrem smot ogayn
And thurch his body he threste.
Urgan lepe unfain;
Over the bregge he deste.
Tristrem hath Urgan slain,
That alle the cuntré wist
With wille.
The King tho Tristrem kist
And Wales tho yeld him tille.
The King, a welp he brought
Bifor Tristrem the trewe.
What colour he was wrought
Now ichil you schewe -
Silke nas non so soft -
He was rede, grene and blewe.
Thai that him seighen oft
Of him hadde gamen and glewe,
Ywis.
His name was Peticrewe;
Of him was michel priis.
The King Triamour
Gaf him Tristrem the hende,
For he brought out of dolour
Him and al his kende.
Tristrem with gret honour
Kidde that he was hende:
He gaf to Blauncheflour
Wales withouten end
Bidene,
And Peticrowe he gan sende
To Dame Ysonde, the Quene.
Ysonde, withouten les,
Tho hye the welp had sain,
That sche had made his pes
Sche sent word ogayn.
Mark herd hou it wes
That Urgan had he slain.
Messangers he ches
Tristrem for to frain,
That fre.
Mark was ferly fain,
And Tristrem kist he.
Mark gan Tristrem calle
And toke him al bidene
Cités, castels alle,
Steward as he hadde bene.
Who was blithe in halle
Bot Ysonde the Quene?
Houso it schuld bifalle,
Thai playden al bituene,
Tho tuo.
So long of love thai mene
That Mark seighe it was so.
Mark seighe hou it is,
What love was hem bituene.
Certes this thought was his,
Ful wele awreken to ben.
And bitoke him the Quene
And flemed hem bothe, ywis,
Out of his eiye-sene
Away.
Blither, withouten wene,
Never ere nar thay.
|
dismount
horse
On foot
May God keep me
willing
Ceaselessly
Instantly; requited
sword
he nearly killed
was amazed at
troubled
might be slain
conducted himself
with vigor
broke
Remained; piece
Unfortunately
hip
grievously
tended towards
region
(see note)
More [of you]
treated
sea
uncle; did go
altar
As
agreement
Since
That is
If; alive
Though Tristrem might think little of it
Doctors; potion
Came to him from far and wide
wasted; their labor
where Tristrem might be
Except; manservant
Three years; sickbed
was called
profited
pity
Look
Each; truth
(see note)
didn't care about his condition
complain
conversation; between
continuously
Since
see
Such a
without doubt
requested from
Uncle; I am dying
I have no further use for land
to
Provisions; at [my] disposal
quickly; prepare; (see note)
Though Mark was displeased
forsook
ready
(see note); blessing
He sailed out of the harbor
was called
Nine weeks and more
He bobbed up and down [in his boat]
as he wished
place where he was going
Nearby
The town was named Dublin
port
nearby
boats; put
brought
shore; (see note)
Unhealthy
ask
What the sea coast was called
Dublin; in reply
found
unhappy
Her [The Queen's]
He abandoned [the name] Tristrem
was called
entertainment
music
sadness
lusty
alive
Dublin
lady
Lovely; (see note)
most skillful
knowledgable about; (see note)
in the case of Tristrem made manifest
out of his suffering
Indeed and without a doubt
That is
strong poultice
In the morning
lady of great nobility
where
Merchant; always
truth
Slew my companions
sea
robbed; (see note)
great
Though; grievously
musical instruments; marvellous
it seemed to them
fiddle; precious; (see note)
chessboard; chess-men
(see note)
saw; before
health
lusty
noble kin
she had revealed; (see note)
know; grievous
weep
broke
painful
comforting
< |