Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

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John Ronald Ruel Tolkien. Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knyght

Tolkien and Gordon, editors.

2nd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967.

Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knyght

The bor3 brittened and brent to brondeygh and aske3,

The tulk that the trammes of tresoun ther wro3t

Wat3 tried for his tricherie, the trewest on erthe:

Hit wat3 Ennias the athel, and his highe kynde,

That sithen depreced prouinces, and patrounes bicome

Welne3e of al the wele in the west iles.

Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swythe,

With gret bobbaunce that bur3e he biges vpon fyrst,

And neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat;

Tirius to Tuskan and teldes bigynnes,

Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes,

And fer ouer the French flod Felix Brutus

On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he sette3

wyth wynne,

Where werre and wrake and wonder

Bi sythe3 hatz wont therinne,

And oft bothe blysse and blunder

Ful skete hat3 skyfted synne.

Ande quen this Bretayn wat3 bigged bi this burn rych,

Bolde bredden therinne, baret that lofden,

In mony turned tyme tene that wro3ten.

Mo ferlyes on this folde han fallen here oft

Then in any other that I wot, syn that ilk tyme.

Bot of alle that here bult, of Bretaygne kynges,

Ay wat3 Arthur the hendest, as I haf herde telle.

Forthi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,

That a selly in si3t summe men hit holden,

And an outtrage awenture of Arthure3 wonderez.

If 3e wyl lysten this laye bot on littel quile,

I schal telle hit as-tit, as I in toun herde,

with tonge,

As hit is stad and stoken

In stori stif and stronge,

With lel letteres loken,

In londe so hat3 ben longe.

This kyng lay at Camylot vpon Krystmasse

With mony luflych lorde, lede3 of the best,

Rekenly of the Rounde Table alle tho rich brether,

With rych reuel ory3t and rechles merthes.

Ther tournayed tulkes by tyme3 ful mony,

Justed ful jolile thise gentyle kni3tes,

Sythen kayred to the court caroles to make.

For ther the fest wat3 ilyche ful fiften dayes,

With alle the mete and the mirthe that men couthe avyse;

Such glaum ande gle glorious to here,

Dere dyn vpon day, daunsyng on ny3tes,

Al wat3 hap vpon he3e in hallez and chambrez

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With lorde3 and ladies, as leuest him tho3t.

With all the wele of the worlde thay woned ther samen,

The most kyd kny3te3 vnder Krystes seluen,

And the louelokkest ladies that euer lif haden,

And he the comlokest kyng that the court haldes;

For al wat3 this fayre folk in her first age,

on sille,

The hapnest vnder heuen,

Kyng hy3est mon of wylle;

Hit were now gret nye to neuen

So hardy a here on hille.

Wyle Nw Ygher wat3 so 3ep that hit watz nwe cummen,

That day doubble on the dece wat3 the douth serued.

Fro the kyng wat3 cummen with kny3tes into the halle,

The chauntre of the chapel cheued to an ende,

Loude crye wat3 ther kest of clerkez and other,

Nowel nayted onewe, neuened ful ofte;

And sythen riche forth runnen to reche hondeselle,

Yghe3ed ygheres-yghiftes on hiygh, yghelde hem bi hond,

Debated busyly aboute tho giftes;

Ladies la3ed ful loude, thoygh thay lost haden,

And he that wan wat3 not wrothe, that may 3e wel trawe.

Alle this mirthe thay maden to the mete tyme;

When thay had waschen worthyly thay wenten to sete,

The best burne ay abof, as hit best semed,

Whene Guenore, ful gay, graythed in the myddes,

Dressed on the dere des, dubbed al aboute,

Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer

Of tryed tolouse, and tars tapites innoghe,

That were enbrawded and beten wyth the best gemmes

That my3t be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye,

in daye.

The comlokest to discrye

Ther glent with y3en gray,

A semloker that euer he sy3e

Soth mo3t no mon say.

Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued,

He wat3 so joly of his joyfnes, and sumquat childgered:

His lif liked hym ly3t, he louied the lasse

Auther to longe lye or to longe sitte,

So bisied him his 3onge blod and his brayn wylde.

And also an other maner meued him eke

That he thur3 nobelay had nomen, he wolde neuer ete

Vpon such a dere day er hym deuised were

Of sum auenturus thyng an vncouthe tale,

Of sum mayn meruayle, that he my3t trawe,

Of alderes, of armes, of other auenturus,

Other sum segg hym biso3t of sum siker knyyght

To joyne wyth hym in iustyng, in joparde to lay,

Lede, lif for lyf, leue vchon other,

As fortune wolde fulsun hom, the fayrer to haue.

This wat3 the kynges countenaunce where he in court were,

At vch farand fest among his fre meny

in halle.

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Therfore of face so fere

He sti3tle3 stif in stalle,

Ful 3ep in that Nw Yghere

Much mirthe he mas withalle.

Thus ther stondes in stale the stif kyng hisseluen,

Talkkande bifore the hy3e table of trifles ful hende.

There gode Gawan wat3 graythed Gwenore bisyde,

And Agrauayn a la dure mayn on that other syde sittes,

Bothe the kynges sistersunes and ful siker kni3tes;

Bischop Bawdewyn abof bigine3 the table,

And Ywan, Vryn son, ette with hymseluen.

Thise were di3t on the des and derworthly serued,

And sithen mony siker segge at the sidborde3.

Then the first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes,

Wyth mony baner ful bry3t that therbi henged;

Nwe nakryn noyse with the noble pipes,

Wylde werbles and wy3t wakned lote,

That mony hert ful hi3e hef at her towches.

Dayntes dryuen therwyth of ful dere metes,

Foysoun of the fresche, and on so fele disches

That pine to fynde the place the peple biforne

For to sette the sylueren that sere sewes halden

on clothe.

Iche lede as he loued hymselue

Ther laght withouten lothe;

Ay two had disches twelue,

Good ber and bry3t wyn bothe.

Now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more,

For vch wy3e may wel wit no wont that ther were.

An other noyse ful newe ne3ed biliue,

That the lude my3t haf leue liflode to cach;

For vnethe wat3 the noyce not a whyle sesed,

And the fyrst cource in the court kyndely serued,

Ther hales in at the halle dor an aghlich mayster,

On the most on the molde on mesure h3e;

Fro the swyre to the swange so sware and so thik,

And his lyndes and his lymes so longe and so grete,

Half etayn in erde I hope that he were,

Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene,

And that the myriest in his muckel that my3t ride;

For of bak and of brest al were his bodi sturne,

Both his wombe and his wast were worthily smale,

And alle his fetures fol3ande, in forme that he hade,

ful clene;

For wonder of his hwe men hade,

Set in his semblaunt sene;

He ferde as freke were fade,

And oueral enker-grene.

Ande al graythed in grene this gome and his wedes:

A strayte cote ful stre3t, that stek on his sides,

A mere mantile abof, mensked withinne

With pelure pured apert, the pane ful clene

With blythe blaunner ful bry3t, and his hod bothe,

That wat3 la3t fro his lokkez and layde on his schulderes;

Heme wel-haled hose of that same,

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That spenet on his sparlyr, and clene spures vnder

Of bry3t golde, vpon silk bordes barred ful ryche,

And scholes vnder schankes there the schalk rides;

And alle his vesture uerayly wat3 clene verdure,

Bothe the barres of his belt and other blythe stones,

That were richely rayled in his aray clene

Aboutte hymself and his sadel, vpon silk werke3.

That were to tor for to telle of tryfles the halue

That were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes and fly3es,

With gay gaudi of grene, the golde ay inmyddes.

The pendauntes of his payttrure, the proude cropure,

His molaynes, and alle the metail anamayld was thenne,

The steropes that he stod on stayned of the same,

And his arsoun3 al after and his athel skyrtes,

That euer glemered and glent al of grene stones;

The fole that he ferkkes on fyn of that ilke,

sertayn,

A grene hors gret and thikke,

A stede ful stif to strayne,

In brawden brydel quik--

To the gome he wat3 ful gayn.

Wel gay wat3 this gome gered in grene,

And the here of his hed of his hors swete.

Fayre fannand fax vmbefoldes his schulderes;

A much berd as a busk ouer his brest henges,

That wyth his hi3lich here that of his hed reches

Wat3 euesed al vmbetorne abof his elbowes,

That half his armes ther-vnder were halched in the wyse

Of a kynge3 capados that closes his swyre;

The mane of that mayn hors much to hit lyke,

Wel cresped and cemmed, wyth knottes ful mony

Folden in wyth fildore aboute the fayre grene,

Ay a herle of the here, an other of golde;

The tayl and his toppyng twynnen of a sute,

And bounden bothe wyth a bande of a bry3t grene,

Dubbed wyth ful dere stone3, as the dok lasted,

Sythen thrawen wyth a thwong a thwarle knot alofte,

Ther mony belle3 ful bry3t of brende golde rungen.

Such a fole vpon folde, ne freke that hym rydes,

Wat3 neuer sene in that sale wyth sy3t er that tyme,

with y3e.

He loked as layt so ly3t,

So sayd al that hym sy3e;

Hit semed as no mon my3t

Vnder his dyntte3 dry3e.

Whether hade he no helme ne hawbergh nauther,

Ne no pysan ne no plate that pented to armes,

Ne no schafte ne no schelde to schwue ne to smyte,

Bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe,

That is grattest in grene when greue3 ar bare,

And an ax in his other, a hoge and vnmete,

A spetos sparthe to expoun in spelle, quoso my3t.

The lenkthe of an eln3erde the large hede hade,

The grayn al of grene stele and of golde hewen,

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The bit burnyst bry3t, with a brod egge

As wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores,

The stele of a stif staf the sturne hit bi grypte,

That wat3 wounden wyth yrn to the wandez ende,

And al bigrauen with grene in gracios werkes;

A lace lapped aboute, that louked at the hede,

And so after the halme halched ful ofte,

Wyth tryed tassele3 therto tacched innoghe

On botoun3 of the bry3t grene brayden ful ryche.

This hathel helde3 hym in and the halle entres,

Driuande to the he3e dece, dut he no wothe,

Haylsed he neuer one, bot he3e he ouer loked.

The fyrst word that he warp, "Wher is," he sayd,

"The gouernour of this gyng? Gladly I wolde

Se that segg in sy3t, and with hymself speke

raysoun."

To kny3te3 he kest his yyghe,

And reled hym vp and doun;

He stemmed, and con studie

Quo walt ther most renoun.

Ther wat3 lokyng on lenthe the lude to beholde,

For vch mon had meruayle quat hit mene my3t

That a hathel and a horse my3t such a hwe lach,

As growe grene as the gres and grener hit semed,

Then grene aumayl on golde glowande bry3ter.

Al studied that ther stod, and stalked hym nerre

Wyth al the wonder of the worlde what he worch schulde.

For fele sellye3 had thay sen, bot such neuer are;

Forthi for fantoum and fayry3e the folk there hit demed.

Therfore to answare wat3 ar3e mony athel freke,

And al stouned at his steuen and stonstil seten

In a swoghe sylence thur3 the sale riche;

As al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor lote3

in hy3e--

I deme hit not al for doute,

Bot sum for cortaysye--

Bot let hym that al schulde loute

Cast vnto that wy3e.

Thenn Arthour bifore the hi3 dece that auenture byholde3,

And rekenly hym reuerenced, for rad was he neuer,

And sayde, "Wy3e, welcum iwys to this place,

The hede of this ostel Arthour I hat;

Li3t luflych adoun and lenge, I the praye,

And quat-so thy wylle is we schal wyt after."

"Nay, as help me," quoth the hathel, "he that on hy3e syttes,

To wone any quyle in this won, hit wat3 not myn ernde;

Bot for the los of the, lede, is lyft vp so hy3e,

And thy bur3 and thy burnes best ar holden,

Stifest vnder stel-gere on stedes to ryde,

The wy3test and the worthyest of the worldes kynde,

Preue for to play wyth in other pure layke3,

And here is kydde cortaysye, as I haf herd carp,

And that hat3 wayned me hider, iwyis, at this tyme.

Yghe may be seker bi this braunch that I bere here

That I passe as in pes, and no ply3t seche;

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Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

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