Author Unknown - Alliterative Morte Arthure, Part II lyrics

Then answers Sir Arthur to that old wife: "I am comen fro the conquerour, courtais and gentle, As one of the hathelest of Arthure knightes, Messenger to this mix, for mendement of the pople To mele with this master man that here this mount yemes, To trete with this tyraunt for tresure of landes And take trew for a time, to better may worthe." "Ya, thir wordes are but waste," quod this wife then, "For both landes and lythes full little by he settes; 92 Of rentes ne of red gold reckes he never, For he will lenge out of law, as himself thinkes, Withouten license of lede, as lord in his owen. But he has a kirtle on, keeped for himselven, That was spunnen in Spain with special birdes And sithen garnisht in Greece full graithely togeders; It is hided all with here, holly all over And borderd with the berdes of burlich kinges, Crisped and combed that kempes may know Ich king by his colour, in kith there he lenges. Here the fermes he fanges of fifteen rewmes, For ilke Estern even, however that it fall, They send it him soothly for saught of the pople, Sekerly at that sesoun with certain knightes. And he has asked Arthure all this seven winter; Forthy hurdes he here to outraye his pople Til the Britones king have burnisht his lippes And sent his berde to that bold with his best bernes; But thou have brought that berde boun thee no further, For it is a bootless bale thou biddes ought elles, 93 For he has more tresure to take when him likes Than ever ought Arthur or any of his elders. If thou have brought the berde he bes more blithe Than thou gave him Borgoine or Britain the More; But look now, for charitee, thou chasty thy lippes That thee no wordes escape, whatso betides. Look thy present be preste and press him but little, For he is at his souper; he will be soon greved. And thou my counsel do, thou dos off thy clothes And kneel in thy kirtle and call him thy lord. He soupes all this sesoun with seven knave childer, Chopped in a chargeur of chalk-white silver, With pickle and powder of precious spices, And piment full plenteous of Portingale wines; 94 Three balefull birdes his broches they turn, That bides his bedgatt, his bidding to work; Such four sholde be fey within four houres Ere his filth were filled that his flesh yernes." "Ya, I have brought the berde," quod he, "the better me likes; Forthy will I boun me and bere it myselven But, lefe, wolde thou lere me where that lede lenges? I shall alowe thee, and I live, Our Lord so me help!" "Ferk fast to the fire," quod sho, "that flames so high; There filles that fend him, fraist when thee likes. 95 But thou moste seek more south, sidlings a little, For he will have scent himselve six mile large." To the source of the reek he sought at the gainest, 96 Sained him sekerly with certain wordes, And sidlings of the segge the sight had he reched How unseemly that sot sat soupand him one! He lay lenand on long, lodgand unfair, The thee of a mans limm lift up by the haunch; His back and his beuschers and his brode lendes He bakes at the bale-fire and breekless him seemed; There were rostes full rude and rewful bredes, Bernes and bestail broched togeders, Cowle full crammed of crismed childer, Some as bred broched and birdes them turned. And then this comlich king, because of his pople, His herte bleedes for bale on bente where he standes; Then he dressed on his sheld, shuntes no lenger, Braundisht his brode sword by the bright hiltes, Raikes toward that renk right with a rude will And hiely hailses that hulk with hautain wordes: "Now, All-weldand God that worshippes us all Give thee sorrow and site, sot, there thou ligges, For the foulsomest freke that formed was ever! Foully thou feedes thee! The Fend have thy soul! Here is cury unclene, carl, by my trewth, Caff of creatures all, thou cursed wretch! Because that thou k**ed has these crismed childer, Thou has martyrs made and brought out of life That here are broched on bente and brittened with thy handes, 97 I shall merk thee thy meed as thou has much served, Through might of Saint Michel that this mount yemes! And for this fair lady that thou has fey leved And thus forced on folde for filth of thyselven, Dress thee now, dog-son, the devil have thy soul! For thou shall die this day through dint of my handes!" Then glopined the glutton and glored unfair; He grenned as a grayhound with grisly tuskes; He gaped, he groned fast with grouchand lates For gref of the good king that him with grame greetes. His fax and his foretop was filtered togeders And out of his face fom an half foot large; His front and his forheved, all was it over As the fell of a frosk and frakned it seemed; Hook-nebbed as a hawk, and a hore berde, And hered to the eyen-holes with hangand browes; 98 Harsk as a hound-fish, hardly who-so lookes, So was the hide of that hulk holly all over; Erne had he full huge and ugly to shew With eyen full horrible and ardaunt for sooth; Flat-mouthed as a fluke with fleriand lippes, And the flesh in his fore-teeth fouly as a bere; His berde was brothy and blak that til his breste reched; Gra**ed as a mere-swine with carkes full huge And all faltered the flesh in his foul lippes, Ilke wrethe as a wolf-heved it wrath out at ones! 99 Bull-necked was that berne and brode in the shoulders, Brok-brested as a brawn with bristeles full large, Rude armes as an oke with ruskled sides, Limm and leskes full lothen, leve ye for sooth; 100 Shovel-footed was that shalk and shaland him seemed, With shankes unshapely shovand togeders; Thick thees as a thurse and thicker in the haunch, Grees-growen as a galt, full grillich he lookes! Who the lenghe of the lede lely accountes, Fro the face to the foot was five fadom long! Then stertes he up sturdily on two stiff shankes, And soon he caught him a club all of clene iron; He wolde have k**ed the king with his keen wepen, But through the craft of Crist yet the carl failed; The crest and the coronal, the claspes of silver, Clenly with his club he crashed down at ones! The king castes up his sheld and covers him fair, And with his burlich brand a box he him reches; Full bu*t in the front the fromand he hittes That the burnisht blade to the brain runnes; He feyed his fysnamie with his foul handes And frappes fast at his face fersly there-after! The king changes his foot, eschewes a little; Ne had he eschaped that chop, cheved had evil; He follows in fersly and fastenes a dint High up on the haunch with his hard wepen That he heled the sword half a foot large; The hot blood of the hulk unto the hilt runnes; Even into the in-mete the giaunt he hittes Just to the genitals and jagged them in sonder! 101 Then he romed and rored and rudely he strikes Full egerly at Arthur and on the erthe hittes; A sword-lenghe within the swarth he swappes at ones That ner swoones the king for swough of his dintes! But yet the king sweperly full swithe he beswenkes, Swappes in with the sword that it the swang bristed; Both the guttes and the gore gushes out at ones. That all englaimes the gra** on ground there he standes! Then he castes the club and the king hentes; On the crest of the crag he caught him in armes, And encloses him clenly to crushen his ribbes; So hard holdes he that hende that ner his herte bristes! Then the baleful birdes bounes to the erthe, Kneeland and cryand and clapped their handes; "Crist comfort yon knight and keep him fro sorrow, And let never yon fend fell him o life!" Yet is that warlaw so wight he welters him under; Wrothly they writhen and wrestle togeders, Welters and wallows over within those buskes, Tumbelles and turnes fast and teres their weedes, Untenderly fro the top they tilten togeders, Whilom Arthur over and other while under, Fro the heghe of the hill unto the hard rock, They feyne never ere they fall at the flood marches; But Arthur with an anlace egerly smites And hittes ever in the hulk up to the hiltes. The thef at the ded-throwes so throly him thringes 102 That three ribbes in his side he thrustes in sonder! Then Sir Kayous the keen unto the king stertes, Said: "Alas! We are lorn! My lord is confounded, Over-fallen with a fend! Us is foul happned! We mon be forfeited, in faith, and flemed forever!" They heve up his hawberk then and handelles there-under His hide and his haunch eek on height to the shoulders, His flank and his felettes and his fair sides, Both his back and his breste and his bright armes. They were fain that they fande no flesh entamed And for that journee made joy, thir gentle knightes. "Now certes," says Sir Bedvere, "it seemes, by my Lord, He seekes saintes but selden, the sorer he grippes, That thus clekes this corsaint out of thir high cliffes, 103 To carry forth such a carl at close him in silver; By Michel, of such a mak I have much wonder That ever our soveraign Lord suffers him in heven! And all saintes be such that serves our Lord I shall never no saint be, by my fader soul!" Then bourdes the bold king at Bedvere wordes: "This saint have I sought, so help me our Lord! Forthy braid out thy brand and broche him to the herte; Be seker of this sergeaunt; he has me sore greved! I fought not with such a freke this fifteen winter; But in the mountes of Araby I met such another; He was forcier by fer that had I nere founden; 104 Ne had my fortune been fair, fey had I leved! Anon strike off his heved and stake it thereafter; 105 Give it to thy squier, for he is well horsed, Bere it to Sir Howell that is in hard bondes And bid him herte him well; his enmy is destroyed! Senn bere it to Barflete and brace it in iron And set it on the barbican bernes to shew. My brand and my brode sheld upon the bente ligges, On the crest of the crag there first we encountered, And the club there-by, all of clene iron, That many Cristen has k**ed in Constantine landes; Ferk to the fore-land and fetch me that wepen And let found to our fleet in flood there it lenges. If thou will any tresure, take what thee likes; Have I the kirtle and the club, I covet nought elles." Now they kaire to the crag, these comlich knightes, And brought him the brode sheld and his bright wepen, The club and the cote als, Sir Kayous himselven, 106 And kaires with the conquerour the kinges to shew. That in covert the king held close to himselven While clene day fro the cloud climbed on loft. By that to court was comen clamour full huge, And before the comlich king they kneeled all at ones: "Welcome, our lege lord, to long has thou dwelled! Governour under God, graithest and noble, To whom grace is graunted and given at His will Now thy comly come has comforted us all! Thou has in thy realtee revenged thy pople! Through help of thy hand thine enmies are stroyed, That has thy renkes over-run and reft them their childer; Was never rewm out of array so redyly releved!" Then the conquerour Cristenly carpes to his pople: "Thankes God," quod he, "of this grace and no gome elles, For it was never mans deed, but might of Himselven Or miracle of his Moder, that mild is til all!" He summond then the shipmen sharply thereafter, To shake forth with the shire-men to shift the goodes: "All the much tresure that traitour had wonnen To commouns of the countree, clergy and other, Look it be done and delt to my dere pople That none plain of their part o pain of your lives." He commaunde his cosin, with knightlich wordes, To make a kirk on that crag, there the corse ligges And a covent there-in, Crist for to serve, In mind of that martyr that in the mount restes. When Sir Arthur the king had k**ed the giaunt, Then blithely fro Barflete he buskes on the morn, With his batail on brede by tho blithe stremes; 107 Toward Castel Blank he cheses him the way, Through a fair champain under chalk hilles; The king fraistes a furth over the fresh strandes, Foundes with his fair folk over as him likes; Forth steppes that steren and strekes his tents On a strenghe by a streme, in those strait landes. Anon after mid-day, in the mene-while, There comes two messengers of tho fer marches, Fro the Marshal of Fraunce, and menskfully him greetes, Besought him of succour and said him these wordes: "Sir, thy Marshal, thy minister, thy mercy beseekes, Of thy mikel magistee, for mendment of thy pople, Of these marches-men that thus are miscarried And thus marred among maugree their eyen; I witter thee the Emperour is enterd into Fraunce With hostes of enmies, horrible and huge; Brinnes in Burgoine thy burges so rich, And brittenes thy baronage that beldes there-in; He encroches keenly by craftes of armes Countrees and casteles that to thy crown longes, Confoundes thy commouns, clergy and other; But thou comfort them, Sir King, cover shall they never! He felles forestes fele, forrays thy landes, Frithes no fraunches, but frayes the pople; 108 Thus he felles thy folk and fanges their goodes; Fremedly the French tonge fey is beleved. 109 He drawes into douce Fraunce, as Dutch-men telles, Dressed with his dragons, dredful to shew; All to dede they dight with dintes of swordes, Dukes and douspeeres that dreches there-in; Forthy the lordes of the land, ladies and other, Prayes thee for Petere love, the apostle of Rome, Senn thou art present in place, that thou will proffer make To that perilous prince by process of time. He ayers by yon hilles, yon high holtes under, Hoves there with hole strenghe of hethen knightes; Help now for His love that high in heven sittes And talk tristly to them that thus us destroyes!" The king biddes Sir Bois: "Busk thee belive! Take with thee Sir Berille and Bedvere the rich, Sir Gawain and Sir Grime, these galiard knightes, And graith you to yon green woodes and gos on thir needes; Says to Sir Lucius too unlordly he workes Thus litherly againes law to lede my pople; I let him ere ought long, yif me the life happen, 110 Or many light shall low that him over land followes; Commaund him keenly with cruel wordes Kaire out of my kingrik with his kidd knightes; In case that he will not, that cursed wretch, Come for his courtaisy and counter me ones; Then shall we reckon full rathe what right that he claimes, Thus to riot this rewm and ransoun the pople! There shall it derely be delt with dintes of handes; The Drighten at Doomesday dele as Him likes!" Now they graith them to go, these galiard knightes, All glitterand in gold, upon grete steedes Toward the green wood, with grounden wepen, To greet well the grete lord that wolde be greved soon. These hende hoves on a hill by the holt eves 111 Beheld the housing full high of hethen kinges; They herde in their herberage hundrethes full many Hornes of olyfantes full highlich blowen; Palaises proudly pight, that paled were rich 112 Of pall and of purpure, with precious stones; Pensels and pomells of rich princes armes Pight in the plain mede the pople to shew. And then the Romans so rich had arrayed their tentes On row by the river under the round hilles, The Emperour for honour even in the middes, With egles all over ennelled so fair; And saw him and the Sowdan and senatours many Seek toward a sale with sixteen kinges Syland softly in, sweetly by themselven, To soupe with that soverain full selcouthe metes. Now they wend over the water, these worshipful knightes, Through the wood to the wonne there the wyes restes; Right as they had weshen and went to the table, Sir Wawain the worthy unwinly he spekes: "The might and the majestee that menskes us all, That was merked and made through the might of Himselven, Give you site in your sete, Sowdan and other, That here are sembled in sale; unsaught mot ye worthe! And the false heretik that Emperour him calles, That occupies in errour the Empire of Rome, Sir Arthure heritage, that honourable king That all his auncestres ought but Uter him one, That ilke cursing that Caim caught for his brother Cleve on thee, cuckewald, with crown there thou lenges, For the unlordliest lede that I on looked ever! My lord marveles him mikel, man, by my trewth, Why thou murtheres his men that no misse serves, Commouns of the countree, clergy and other, That are nought coupable there-in, ne knowes nought in armes, Forthy the comlich king, courtais and noble, Commaundes thee keenly to kaire of his landes Or elles for thy knighthede encounter him ones. Senn thou covetes the crown, let it be declared! I have discharged me here, challenge who likes, Before all thy chevalry, cheftaines and other. Shape us an answer, and shunt thou no lenger, That we may shift at the short and shew to my lord." The Emperour answerd with austeren wordes: "Ye are with mine enmy, Sir Arthur himselven; It is none honour to me to outraye his knightes, Though ye be irous men that ayers on his needes; Ne were it not for reverence of my rich table, Thou sholde repent full rathe of thy rude wordes! Such a rebawd as thou rebuke any lordes With their retinues arrayed, full real and noble! But say to thy soveraign I send him these wordes: Here will I sujourn, whiles me lefe thinkes, And sithen seek in by Seine with solace thereafter, Ensege all the citees by the salt strandes, And senn ride in by Rhone that runnes so fair, And of his rich casteles rush down the walles; I shall nought leve in Paris, by process of time, His part of a pecheline, prove when him likes!" 113 "Now certes," says Sir Wawain, "much wonder have I That such a alfin as thou dare speke such wordes! I had lever than all Fraunce, that heved is of rewmes, Fight with thee faithfully on feld by our one!" Then answers Sir Gayous full gabbed wordes - Was eme to the Emperour and erl himselven: "Ever were these Bretons braggers of old! Lo, how he brawles him for his bright weedes, As he might britten us all with his brand rich! Yet he barkes much boste, yon boy there he standes!" Then greved Sir Gawain at his grete wordes, Graithes toward the gome with grouchand herte; With his steelen brand he strikes off his heved, And stertes out to his steed, and with his stale wendes. Through the watches they went, these worshipful knightes, And findes in their fare-way wonderlich many; Over the water they went by wightness of horses, And took wind as they wolde by the wood hemmes. Then follows frekly on foot frekes ynow, And of the Romans arrayed upon rich steedes Chased through a champain our chevalrous knightes Til a chef forest on chalk-white horses. But a freke all in fine gold and fretted in sable Come furthermost on a Freson in flamand weedes; A fair flourisht spere in fewter he castes, And followes fast on our folk and freshly ascries. Then Sir Gawain the good upon a gray steed He grippes him a grete spere and graithly him hittes; Through the guttes into the gore he girdes him even, That the grounden steel glides to his herte! The gome and the grete horse at the ground ligges, Full grislich gronand for gref of his woundes. Then presses a priker in, full proudly arrayed, That beres all of purpure, paled with silver 114 Bigly on a brown steed he proffers full large. 115 He was a paynim of Perse that thus him persewed; Sir Boys, unabaist all, he buskes him againes; With a bustous launce he beres him through, That the breme and the brode sheld upon the bente ligges! And he bringes forth the blade and bounes to his fellowes. Then Sir Feltemour, of might a man mikel praised, Was moved on his manner and menaced full fast; He graithes to Sir Gawain graithly to work, For gref of Sir Gayous that is on ground leved. Then Sir Gawain was glad; again him he rides; With Galuth, his good sword, graithly him hittes; The knight on the courser he cleved in sonder, Clenlich fro the crown his corse he devised, And thus he k**es the knight with his kidd wepen. Then a rich man of Rome relied to his bernes: "It shall repent us full sore and we ride further! Yon are bold bosters that such bale workes; It befell him full foul that them so first named!" Then the rich Romans returnes their bridles, To their tentes in teen, telles their lordes How Sir Marshall de Mowne is on the molde leved, Forjousted at that journee for his grete japes. 116 But there chases on our men chevalrous knightes, Five thousand folk upon fair steedes, Fast to a forest over a fell water That filles fro the fallow se fifty mile large. 117 There were Bretons enbushed and banerettes noble, Of chevalry chef of the kinges chamber; Sees them chase our men and changen their horses And chop down cheftaines that they most charged. Then the enbushment of Bretons broke out at ones, Brothly at banner all Bedvere knightes Arrested of the Romans that by the firth rides, All the realest renkes that to Rome longes; They ishe on the enmies and egerly strikes, Erles of England, and "Arthur!" ascries; Through brenyes and bright sheldes brestes they thirle, Bretons of the boldest, with their bright swordes. There was Romans over-ridden and rudely wounded, Arrested as rebawdes with riotous knightes! The Romans out of array removed at ones And rides away in a rout - for reddour it seemes! To the Senatour Peter a sandesman is comen And said: "Sir, sekerly, your segges are surprised!" Then ten thousand men he sembled at ones And set sodenly on our segges by the salt strandes. Then were Bretons abaist and greved a little, But yet the bannerettes bold and bachelers noble Brekes that batail with brestes of steedes; Sir Bois and his bold men much bale workes! The Romanes redies them, arrayes them better, And all to-rushes our men with their reste horses, Arrested of the richest of the Round Table, Over-rides our rere-ward and grete rewth workes! Then the Bretons on the bente abides no lenger, But fled to the forest and the feld leved; Sir Berille is borne down and Sir Bois taken, The best of our bold men unblithely wounded; But yet our stale on a strenghe stotais a little, All to-stonayed with the stokes of tho steren knightes, 118 Made sorrow for their soveraign that so there was nomen, Besought God of succour, send when him liked! Then comes Sir Idrus, armed up at all rightes, With five hundreth men upon fair steedes, Fraines fast at our folk freshly thereafter Yif their frendes were fer that on the feld founded. Then says Sir Gawain, "So me God help, We have been chased today and chulled as hares, Rebuked with Romanes upon their rich steedes, And we lurked under lee as lowrand wretches! I look never on my lord the dayes of my life 119 And we so litherly him help that him so well liked!" Then the Bretons brothely broches their steedes And boldly in batail upon the bente rides; All the fers men before frekly ascries, Ferkand in the forest to freshen themselven. The Romanes then redyly arrayes them better, On row on a rowm feld rightes their wepens, By the rich river and rewles the pople; And with reddour Sir Bois is in arrest holden. Now they sembled unsaught by the salt stremes; Sadly these seker men settes their dintes, With lovely launces on loft they lushen togederes, In Lorraine so lordly on lepand steedes. There were gomes through-gird with grounden wepens Grisly gaspand with grouchand lates. Grete lordes of Greece greved so high. Swiftly with swordes they swappen thereafter, Swappes down full sweperly sweltande knightes, That all sweltes on swarth that they over-swingen. 120 So many sways in swogh, swoonand at ones - Sir Gawain the gracious full graithly he workes; The gretest he greetes with grisly woundes; With Galuth he girdes down full galiard knightes, For gref of the grete lord so grimly he strikes! He rides forth really and redyly thereafter There this real renk was in arrest holden; He rives the rank steel, he rittes their brenyes, And reft them the rich man and rode to his strenghes. The Senatour Peter then persewed him after, Through the press of the pople with his pris knightes, Appertly for the prisoner proves his strenghes, With prikers the proudest that to the press longes; Wrothly on the wrong hand Sir Wawain he strikes, With a wepen of war unwinly him hittes; The breny on the back half he bristes in sonder; And yet he brought forth Sir Bois for all their bale bernes! 121 Then the Bretons boldly braggen their trumpes, And for bliss of Sir Bois was brought out of bondes, Boldly in batail they bere down knightes; With brandes of brown steel they brittened mailes; They steked steedes in stour with steelen wepens And all stewede with strenghe that stood them againes! Sir Idrus fitz Ewain then "Arthur!" ascries, Assembles on the senatour with sixteen knightes Of the sekerest men that to our side longed. Sodenly in a soppe they set in at ones, Foines fast at the fore-breste with flamand swordes And fightes fast at the front freshly thereafter, Felles fele on the feld upon the ferrer side, Fey on the fair feld by tho fresh strandes. But Sir Idrus fitz Ewain aunters himselven And enters in only and egerly strikes, Seekes to the senatour and seses his bridle; Unsaughtly he said him these sittand wordes: "Yelde thee, sir, yapely, yif thou thy life yernes; For giftes that thou give may thou yeme not thyselven, For, dredles, drech thou or drop any wiles, 122 Thou shall die this day through dint of my handes!" "I a**ent," quod the senatour, "so me Crist help. So that I be safe brought before the king selven; Ransoun me reasonabely, as I may over-reche, After my rentes in Rome may redyly further." Then answers Sir Idrus with austeren wordes: "Thou shall have condicioun as the king likes, When thou comes to the kith there the court holdes, In case his counsel be to keep thee no longer, To be k**ed at his commaundement his knightes before." They led him forth in the rout and latched off his weedes, Left him with Lionel and Lowell his brother. O-low in the land then, by the lithe strandes, Sir Lucius lege-men lost are forever! The Senatour Peter is prisoner taken! Of Perse and Port Jaffe full many pris knightes And much pople withal perished themselven! For press of the pa**age they plunged at ones! 123 There might men see Romans rewfully wounded, Over-ridden with renkes of the Round Table. In the raike of the furth they righten their brenyes 124 That ran all on red blood redyly all over; They raght in the rere-ward full riotous knightes 125 For ransoun of red gold and real steedes; Redyly relayes and restes their horses, In route to the rich king they rode all at ones. A knight kaires before, and to the king telles: "Sir, here comes thy messengeres with mirthes fro the mountes; They have been matched today with men of the marches, Foremagled in the mora** with marvelous knightes! We have foughten, in faith, by yon fresh strandes, With the frekest folk that to thy fo longes; Fifty thousand on feld of fers men of armes Within a furlong of way fey are beleved! We have eschewed this check through chaunce of Our Lord Of tho chevalrous men that charged thy pople. The chef chaunceller of Rome, a cheftain full noble, Will ask the charter of pees, for charitee himselven; And the Senatour Peter to prisoner is taken. Of Perse and Port Jaffe paynimes ynow Comes prikand in the press with thy pris knightes, With povertee in thy prisoun their paines to drie. I beseek you, sir, say what you likes, Whether ye suffer them saught or soon delivered. Ye may have for the senatour sixty horse charged Of silver by Saterday full sekerly payed, And for the chef chaunceller, the chevaler noble, Charottes chockful charged with gold. The remenaunt of the Romanes be in arrest holden, Til their rentes in Rome be rightwisly knowen. I beseek you, sir, certify yon lordes, Yif ye will send them over the se or keep them yourselven. All your seker men, for sooth, sound are beleved, Save Sir Ewain fitz Henry is in the side wounded." "Crist be thanked," quod the king, "and his clere Moder, That you comforted and helped by craft of Himselven. Sk**fully skomfiture He skiftes as Him likes. 126 Is none so skathly may scape ne skew fro His handes; Destainy and doughtiness of deedes of armes, All is deemed and delt at Drightenes will! I can thee thank for thy come; it comfortes us all! Sir knight," says the conquerour, "so me Crist help, I give thee for thy tithandes Toulouse the rich, The toll and the tachementes, tavernes and other, The town and the tenementes with towres so high, That touches to the temporaltee, whiles my time lastes. 127 But say to the senatour I send him these wordes: There shall no silver him save but Ewain recover. I had lever see him sink on the salt strandes Than the segge were seke that is so sore wounded. I shall dissever that sorte, so me Crist help, And set them full solitary in sere kinges landes. Shall he never sound see his seinoures in Rome, Ne sit in the a**emblee in sight with his feres, For it comes to no king that conquerour is holden To comone with his captives for covetis of silver. It come never of knighthed, know it if him like, To carp of cosery when captives are taken; It ought to no prisoners to press no lordes Ne come in presence of princes when parties are moved. Commaund yon constable, the castle that yemes, That he be clenlich keeped and in close holden; He shall have maundement to-morn ere mid-day be rungen To what march they shall merk with maugree to lengen." They convey this captive with clene men of armes And kend him to the constable, als the king biddes And senn to Arthur they ayer and egerly him touches The answer of the Emperour, irous of deedes. Then Sir Arthur, on erthe athelest of other At even, at his own borde avaunted his lordes: "Me ought to honour them in erthe over all other thinges, That thus in mine absence aunters themselven! I shall them love whiles I live, so me Our Lord help And give them landes full large where them best likes; They shall not lose on this laik, yif me life happen, That thus are lamed for my love by these lithe strandes." But in the clere dawing the dere king himselven Commaunded Sir Cador, with his dere knightes, Sir Cleremus, Sir Cleremond, with clene men of armes, Sir Clowdmur, Sir Cleges, to convey these lordes; Sir Bois and Sir Berille, with banners displayed, Sir Bawdwin, Sir Brian, and Sir Bedvere the rich, Sir Raynald and Sir Richer, Rowlaunde childer, To ride with the Romanes in route with their feres: "Prikes now privily to Paris the rich With Peter the prisoner and his pris knightes; Beteche them the provost in presence of lordes O pain and o peril that pendes there-to That they be wisely watched and in ward holden, Warded of warantises with worshipful knightes; Wage him wight men and wonde for no silver; I have warned that wye; beware yif him likes!" Now bounes the Britons als the king biddes, Buskes their batailes, their banners displayes, 128 Toward Chartres they chese, these chevalrous knightes, And in the Champain land full fair they escheved, For the Emperour of might had ordained himselven Sir Utolf and Sir Evander, two honourable kinges, Erles of the Orient with austeren knightes, Of the auntrousest men that to his host longed Sir Sextynour of Lyby and senatours many, The king of Surry himself with Sarazens ynow; The senatour of Sutere with summes full huge Was a**igned to that court by sente of his peeres, Trays toward Troys the tresoun to work, To have betrapped with a trayn our traveland knightes, That had perceived that Peter at Paris sholde leng In prisoun with the provost his paines to drie. Forthy they busked them boun with banners displayed, In the buscaile of his way, on blonkes full huge, Plantes them in the path with power arrayed To pick up the prisoners fro our pris knightes. Sir Cador of Cornwall commaundes his peeres, Sir Clegis, Sir Cleremus, Sir Cleremond the noble: "Here is the Close of Clime with cleves so high; Lookes the countree be clere; the corners are large; Discoveres now sekerly skrogges and other, That no scathel in the skrogges scorn us hereafter; Look ye skift it so that us no scathe limpe, For no scomfiture in skulkery is scomfit ever." 129 Now they hie to the holt, these harageous knightes, To herken of the high men to helpen these lordes, Findes them helmed hole and horsed on steedes, Hovand on the high way by the holt hemmes. With knightly countenaunce Sir Clegis himselven Cries to the company and carpes these wordes: "Is there any kidd knight, kaiser or other, Will kithe for his kinges love craftes of armes? We are comen fro the king of this kith rich That knowen is for conquerour, crownd in erthe; His rich retinues here, all of the Round Table, To ride with that real in rout when him likes. We seek jousting of war, yif any will happen, Of the jolliest men ajudged by lordes; If here be any hathel man, erl or other, That for the Emperour love wil aunter himselven." And an erl then in anger answeres him soon: "Me angers at Arthur and at his hathel bernes That thus in his errour occupies these rewmes, And outrayes the Emperour, his erthly lord! The array and the realtees of the Round Table Is with rancour rehersed in rewmes full many, Of our rentes of Rome such revel he holdes; He shall give resoun full rathe, if us right happen, That many shall repent that in his rout rides, For the reckless roy so rewles himselven!" "A!" says Sir Clegis then, "so me Crist help! I know by thy carping a counter thee seemes! But be thou auditour or erl or Emperour thyselven, Upon Arthures behalf I answer thee soon, The renk so real that rewles us all, The riotous men and the rich of the Round Table: He has araised his account and redde all his rolles, For he will give a reckoning that rew shall after, That all the rich shall repent that to Rome longes Ere the rerage be requite of rentes that he claimes. We crave of your courtaisy three courses of war, And claimes of knighthood, take keep to yourselven! Ye do but trayn us today with troufeland wordes; Of such traveland men trechery me thinkes. Send out sadly certain knightes Or say me sekerly sooth; forsake yif you likes." Then says the King of Surry, "Als save me Our Lord, Yif thou hufe all the day thou bes not delivered! But thou sekerly ensure with certain knightes That thy cote and thy crest be knowen with lordes, Of armes of auncestry enterd with landes." "Sir King," says Sir Clegis, "full knightly thou askes; I trow it be for cowardis thou carpes these wordes; Mine armes are of auncestry envered with lordes, And has in banner been borne senn Sir Brut time; At the citee of Troy that time was enseged, Oft seen in a**aut with certain kinghtes; Forthy Brut brought us and all our bold elders To Bretain the Brodder within ship-bordes." "Sir," says Sir Sextynour, "say what thee likes, And we shall suffer thee, als us best seemes; Look thy trumpes be trussed and troufle no lenger, 130 For though thou tarry all the day, thee tides no better, For there shall never Roman that in my rout rides Be with rebawdes rebuked, whiles I in world regne!" Then Sir Clegis to the king a little enclined, Kaires to Sir Cador and knightly him telles: "We have founden in yon firth, flourished with leves, The flowr of the fairest folk that to thy fo longes, Fifty thousand of folk of fers men of armes, That fair are fewtered on front under yon free bowes; They are enbushed on blonkes, with banners displayed, In yon beechen wood, upon the way sides. They have the furth for-set all of the fair water, That fayfully of force fight us behooves, For thus us shapes today, shortly to tell; Whether we shoun or shew, shift as thee likes." 131 "Nay," quod Cador, "so me Crist help, It were shame that we sholde shoun for so little! Sir Launcelot shall never laugh, that with the king lenges, That I sholde let my way for lede upon erthe; I shall be dede and undone ere I here dreche For drede of any dogges-son in yon dim shawes!" Sir Cador then knightly comfortes his pople, And with corage keen he carpes these wordes: "Think on the valiant prince that vesettes us ever With landes and lordshippes where us best likes. That has us ducherys delt and dubbed us knightes, Given us gersoms and gold and guerdons many, Grayhoundes and grete horse and alkine games, That gaines til any gome that under God lives; Think on rich renown of the Round Table, And let it never be reft us for Roman in erthe; Foyne you not faintly, ne frithes no wepens, But look ye fight faithfully, frekes yourselven; I wolde be welled all quick and quartered in sonder, 132 But I work my deed, whiles I in wrath lenge." Then this doughty duke dubbed his knightes: Ioneke and Askanere, Aladuke and other, That eieres were of Ess** and all those este marches, Howell and Hardolf, happy in armes, Sir Heryll and Sir Herygall, these harageous knightes. Then the soveraign a**igned certain lordes, Sir Wawayne, Sir Uryelle, Sir Bedvere the rich, Raynald and Richere, Rowlandes childer: "Takes keep on this prince with your pris knightes, And yif we in the stour withstanden the better, Standes here in this stede and stirres no further; And yif the chaunce fall that we be over-charged, Eschewes to some castle and cheves yourselven, Or ride to the rich king, if you roo happen, And bid him come redyly to rescue his bernes." And then the Bretons brothely enbraces their sheldes, Braides on bacenettes and buskes their launces; Thus he fittes his folk and to the feld rides, Five hundreth on a front fewtered at ones! With trumpes they trine and trapped steedes, With cornettes and clariouns and clergial notes; Shockes in with a shake and shuntes no longer, There shawes were sheen under the shire eves. 133 And then the Romanes rout removes a little, Raikes with a rere-ward those real knightes; So raply they ride there that all the rout ringes Of rives and rank steel and rich gold mailes. 134 Then shot out of the shaw sheltrones many, With sharp wepens of war shootand at ones. The King of Lyby before the avauntward he ledes, And all his lele lege-men all on loud ascries. Then this cruel king castes in fewter, Caught him a coverd horse, and his course holdes, Beres to Sir Berille and brothely him hittes, Through the golet and the gorger he hurtes him even. The gome and the grete horse at the ground ligges, And gretes graithely to God and gives Him the soul. Thus is Berille the bold brought out of life, And bides after the burial that him best likes. And then Sir Cador of Cornwall is careful in herte, Because of his kinsman that thus is miscarried; Umbeclappes the corse, and kisses him oft, Gart keep him covert with his clere knightes. Then laughs the Lyby king, and all on loud meles: "Yon lord is lighted! Me likes the better! He shall not dere us today; the devil have his bones!" "Yon king," says Sir Cador, "carpes full large, Because he k**ed this keen - Crist have thy soul! - He shall have corn-bote, so me Crist help! Ere I kaire of this coste, we shall encounter ones: So may the wind wheel turn, I quite him ere even, Soothly himselven or some of his feres!" Then Sir Cador the keen knightly he workes, Cries, "A Cornwall!" and castes in fewter, Girdes streke through the stour on a steed rich; Many steren men he stirred by strenghe of him one; When his spere was sprongen, he sped him full yerne, Swapped out with a sword that swiked him never, Wrought wayes full wide, and wounded knightes, Workes in his wayfare full workand sides, And hewes of the hardiest halses in sonder, That all blendes with blood there his blonk runnes! So many bernes the bold brought out of life, Tittes tyrauntes down and temes their saddles, And turnes out of the toil when him time thinkes! Then the Lyby king cries full loud On Sir Cador the keen with cruel wordes: "Thou has worship won and wounded knightes! Thou weenes for thy wightness the world is thine own! I shall wait at thine hand, wye, by my trewth; I have warned thee well, beware yif thee likes!" With cornus and clariouns these new-made knightes Lithes unto the cry and castes in fewter, Ferkes in on a front on feraunt steedes, 135 Felled at the first come fifty at ones; Shot through the sheltrons and shivered launces, Laid down in the lump lordly bernes. And thus nobly our new men notes their strenghes! But new note is anon that noyes me sore: The King of Lyby has laght a steed that him liked, And comes in lordly in liones of silver, Umbelappes the lump and lettes in sonder; Many lede with his launce the life has he reved! Thus he chases the childer of the kinges chamber, And k**es in the champaines chevalrous knightes; With a chasing spere he choppes down many! There was Sir Aladuke slain and Achinour wounded, Sir Origge and Sir Ermyngall hewen all to peces! And there was Lewlin laght and Lewlins brother With lordes of Lyby and led to their strenghes; Ne had Sir Clegis comen and Clement the noble, Our new men had gone to nought and many mo other. Then Sir Cador the keen castes in fewter A cruel launce and a keen and to the king rides, Hittes him high on the helm with his hard wepen, That all the hot blood of him to his hand runnes! The hethen harageous king upon the hethe ligges, And of his hertly hurt heled he never. Then Sir Cador the keen cries full loud: "Thou has corn-bote, sir king, there God give thee sorrow; Thou k**ed my cosin; my care is the less! Kele thee now in the clay and comfort thyselven; Thou scorned us long ere, with thy scornful wordes, And now thou has cheved so, it is thine own scathe; Hold at thou hent has; it harmes but little, 136 For hething is home-hold, use it who-so will!" The King of Surry then is sorrowful in herte, For sake of his soveraign that thus was surprised; Sembled his Sarazens and senatours many; Unsaughtly they set then upon our sere knightes. Sir Cador of Cornwall he counters them soon With his kidd company clenlich arrayed; In the front of the firth, as the way forthes, Fifty thousand of folk was felled at ones. There was at the a**emblee certain knightes Sore wounded soon upon sere halves. The sekerest Sarazenes that to that sorte longed Behind the saddles were set six foot large; They sheerd in the sheltron shelded knightes; Shalkes they shot through shrinkand mailes; Through brenyes browden brestes they thirled; Bracers burnisht bristes in sonder; Blasons bloody and blonkes they hewen, With brandes of brown steel, brankand steedes! The Bretons brothely brittenes so many The bente and the brode feld all on blood runnes! By then Sir Kayous the keen a capitain has wonnen; Sir Clegis clinges in and clekes another; The Capitain of Cordewa, under the king selven, That was key of the kith of all that coste rich Utolf and Evander Ioneke had nommen With the Erl of Afrike and other grete lordes. The King of Surry the keen to Sir Cador is yelden, The Seneschal of Sutere to Sagramour himselven. When the chevalry saw their cheftaines were nomen, To a chef forest they chosen their wayes, And feeled them so faint they fell in the greves, In the feren of the firth for ferd of our pople. There might men see the rich ride in the shawes To rip up the Romanes rudlich wounded, Shoutes after men harageous knightes, By hundrethes they hewed down by the holt eves! Thus our chevalrous men chases the pople; To a castel they escheved the few that eschaped. Then relies the renkes of the Round Table For to riot the wood there the duke restes; Ransackes the rindes all, raght up their feres, That in the fighting before fey were beleved. Sir Cador gart charre them and cover them fair, 137 Carried them to the king with his best knightes, And pa**es unto Paris with prisoners himselven, Betook them the provost, princes and other, Tas a sope in the towr and tarries no longer But turnes tite to the king and him with tonge telles: "Sir," says Sir Cador, "a case is befallen; We have countered today in yon coste rich With kinges and kaiseres cruel and noble, And knightes and keen men clenlich arrayed! They had at yon forest for-set us the wayes, At the furth in the firth with fers men of armes; There fought we in faith and foined with speres On feld with thy fomen and felled them on live; The King of Lyby is laid and in the feld leved, And many of his lege-men that yore to him longed; Other lordes are laght of uncouthe ledes; We have led them at lenge, to live whiles thee likes. Sir Utolf and Sir Evander, these honourable knightes, By an aunter of armes Ioneke has nomen, With erles of Orient and austeren knightes, Of auncestry the best men that to the host longed; The Senatour Carous is caught with a knight, The Capitain of Cornette that cruel is holden, The Seneschal of Sutere, unsaught with these other, The King of Surry himselven and Sarazenes ynow. But fey of ours in the feld are fourteen knightes. I will not feyne ne forbere but faithfully tellen: Sir Berille is one, a bannerette noble, Was k**ed at the first come with a king rich; Sir Aladuke of Towell with his tender knightes, Among the Turkes was tint and in time founden; Good Sir Mawrelle of Mawnces and Mawrene his brother, Sir Meneduke of Mentoche with marvelous knightes." Then the worthy king writhes and weeped with his eyen, Carpes to his cosin Sir Cador these wordes: "Sir Cador, thy corage confoundes us all! Cowardly thou castes out all my best knightes! To put men in peril, it is no pris holden, But the parties were purveyed and power arrayed; When thou were stedde on a strenghe thou sholde have with-stonden, But yif ye wolde all my steren stroy for the nones!" 138 "Sir," says Sir Cador, "ye know well yourselven; Ye are king in this kith; carp what you likes! Shall never berne upbraid me that to thy borde longes, That I sholde blinn for their boste thy bidding to work! When any stertes to stale, stuff them the better, Or they will be stonayed and stroyed in yon strait landes. 139 I did my deligence today - I do me on lordes - 140 And in daunger of dede for diverse knightes, I have no grace to thy gree but such grete wordes; Yif I heven my herte, my hap is no better." Though Sir Arthur was angered, he answers fair: "Thou has doughtily done, Sir Duke, with thy handes, And has done thy dever with my dere knightes; Forthy thou art deemed with dukes and erles For one of the doughtiest that dubbed was ever! There is none ischew of us on this erthe sprongen; Thou art apparent to be eier, or one of thy childer; Thou art my sister son; forsake shall I never! Then gart he in his owen tent a table be set, And tryed in with trumpes traveled bernes, Served them solemnly with selcouthe metes, Swithe seemly in sight with silveren dishes. When the senatours herde say that it so happened, They said to the Emperour: "Thy segges are surprised! Sir Arthur, thine enmy, has outrayed thy lordes That rode for the rescue of yon rich knightes! Thou dos but tinnes thy time and tourmentes thy pople; Thou art betrayed of thy men that most thou on traisted. That shall turn thee to teen and torfer forever!" Then the Emperour irous was, angerd at his herte For our valiant bernes such prowesh had wonnen. With king and with kaiser to counsel they wend, Soveraignes of Sarazens and senatours many. Thus he sembles full soon certain lordes, And in the a**emblee then he says them these wordes: "My herte soothly is set, a**ent if you likes, To seek into Sessoine with my seker knightes, To fight with my fomen, if fortune me happen, Yif I may find the freke within the four halves; Or enter into Auguste aunters to seek, And bide with my bold men within the burg rich, Rest us and revel and riot ourselven, Lende there in delite in lordshippes ynow, To Sir Leo be comen with all his lele knightes, With lordes of Lumbardy to let him the wayes." But our wise king is wary to waiten his renkes, And wisely by the woodes voides his host; Gart felshen his fires flamand full high, 141 Trussen full traistely and treunt there-after. Sithen into Sessoine he sought at the gainest, And at the sours of the sun disseveres his knightes, For-set them the citee upon sere halves, Sodenly on eche halfe, with seven grete stales, 142 Only in the vale a vaweward enbushes. Sir Valiant of Wales with valiant knightes Before the kinges visage made such avowes To vanquish by victory the Viscount of Rome; Forthy the king charges him, what chaunce so befall, Cheftain of the check with chevalrous knightes, And sithen meles with mouth that he most traistes; Demenes the middilward menskfully himselven, Fittes his footmen als him fair thinkes; On front in the fore-breste the flowr of his knightes; His archers on either half he ordained there-after To shake in a sheltron to shoot when them likes; He arrayed in the rereward full real knightes With renkes renowned of the Round Table, Sir Raynald, Sir Richere that rade was never, The rich Duke of Rouen with riders ynow; Sir Kayous, Sir Clegis, and clene men of armes, 143 The king castes to keep by tho clere strandes; Sir Lot and Sir Launcelot, these lordly knightes Shall lenge on his left hand with legiones ynow, To move in the morn-while, if the mist happen; Sir Cador of Cornwall, and his keen knightes, To keep at the karfuke, to close in thir other; He plantes in such places princes and erles That no power sholde pa** by no privee wayes. But the Emperour anon with honourable knightes And erles enters the vale, aunters to seek, And findes Sir Arthur with hostes arrayed, And at his in-come, to eeken his sorrow, Our burlich bold king upon the bente hoves, With his batail on-brode and banners displayed. He had the citee for-set upon sere halves, Both the cleves and the cliffes with clene men of armes, The moss and the mora** with mountes so high With grete multitude of men to mar him in the wayes. When Sir Lucius sees, he says to his lordes: "This traitour has treunt this tresoun to work! He has the citee for-set upon sere halves, All the cleves and the cliffes with clene men of armes! Here is no way, iwis, ne no wit else, But fight with our fomen, for flee may we never!" Then this rich man rathe arrayes his bernes, Rewled his Romans and real knightes; Buskes in the avauntward the Viscount of Rome; Fro Viterbo to Venice these valiant knightes Dresses up dredfully the dragon of gold, With egles all over enamelled of sable; Drawen dreghly the wine and drinken there-after, Dukes and douspeeres, dubbed knightes; For dauncesing of Dutch-men and dinning of pipes, All dinned for din that in the dale hoved. And then Sir Lucius on loud said lordlich wordes: "Think on the much renown of your rich faders, And the riotours of Rome that regned with lordes, And the renkes over-ran, all that regned in erthe, Ecroched all Cristendom by craftes of armes; In everich a viage the victory was holden Inset all the Sarazenes within seven winter, The part from Port Jaffe to Paradise gates! Though a rewm be rebel, we reck it but little; It is resoun and right the renk be restrained! Do dress we therefore, and bide we no longer, For dredles, withouten doubt, the day shall be oures!"