The romance of Guy of Warwick. The first or 14th-century version.

Page 3

Guye of Warrewik. [Caius MS., 107, page 1.]

                        
                          SYTh THE TYME þAT CRYST IHESU,
                        
                          Thorough hys grace & vertu,
                        
                          Was in þis world bore
                        
                          Of a mayd withowt hore,
                        
                          And þe world crystendom
                          Line 5 
                        
                          Among mankynd first becom,
                        
                          Many aduentures hath be wrouȝt
                        
                          Þat all men knoweth nouȝt.
                        
                          Therfore mēn shull herken blythe,
                        
                          And it vndirstonde right swythe,
                          Line 10 
                        
                          For they that were borne or wee
                        
                          Fayre aduenturis hadden they;
                        
                          For euere they louyd sothfastenesse,
                        
                          Faith with trewthe and stedfastnesse.
                        
                          Therfore schulde man with gladde chere
                          Line 15 
                        
                          Lerne goodnesse, vndirstonde, and here:
                        
                          Who myke it hereth and vndirstondeth it
                        
                          By resoun he shulde bee wyse of witte;
                        
                          And y it holde a fayre mastrye,
                        
                          To occupye wisedome and leue folye.
                          Line 20 
                        
                          For why as of an Erle j shall yow telle,
                        
                          How of hym it beefelle;
                        
                          And of hys stewarde, withoute lesynge,
                        
                          And of the stewarde sone, a fayre yonge thynge,
                        
                          That gentil was and fayre bee-seen,
                          Line 25 
                        
                          And how he loued a mayden sheen,

Page 5

                        
                          The Erles doughter, that was so bryghte,
                        
                          And how he spoused that swete wyghte,
                        
                          And how that he reynbroun beegate—
                        
                          All y kanne tell yow that—
                          Line 30 
                        
                          And how he wente into wildernesse: [Caius MS. 107 page 2] 
                        
                          All y canne tell yow as it ys.
                        
                          A wyseman it vnto vs seyd
                        
                          That it wrote and in ryme it leyd.
                        
                          I woll it not any longer concell,
                          Line 35 
                        
                          But open the sentence as ye may fele.

                        
                          IN ENGLONDE an Erle was wonnynge
                        
                          In Warrewyke Citee, ryght as I fynde:
                        
                          Ryche he was and grete of myght,
                        
                          Erle he was, and a full stronge knygnt,
                          Line 40 
                        
                          Riche of gold and of syluer bothe,
                        
                          Of clothes of gold and vessell, withoute othe,
                        
                          Of stronge castellis and riche Citees:
                        
                          Thorugh all Englond preised he was.
                        
                          In all Englond ne was ther none
                          Line 45 
                        
                          That durste in wrath ayenste hym goon.
                        
                          Good knyghtis he loued y-wys,
                        
                          And freely he gaue them of hys,
                        
                          Therfore welbelouyd he was,
                        
                          And grettly doubted in euery place.
                          Line 50 
                        
                          Erle he was of grete price:
                        
                          All that contree tho was hys;
                        
                          Of oxenford and all that contrey
                        
                          He was gouernoure at that day;
                        
                          Of Bokyngham, and of all that shyre,
                          Line 55 
                        
                          He was klepyd both lord and syre.
                        
                          That Erle Rohaude hyght,
                        
                          Baroun he was of grete myght.
                        
                          A doughter he had of hys wyue,
                        
                          Hyr grete beaute y can not dyscryue:
                          Line 60 
                        
                          For the fairest men chesen hir y-wys. [Caius MS. 107 page 3] 
                        
                          That y you telle, sothe it is.

Page 7

                        
                          Of hir beaute yet a litell wighte:
                        
                          With a faire visage louely in sighte,
                        
                          Hir skynne was white of brighte coloure;
                          Line 65 
                        
                          Bodied wele and of grete valour;
                        
                          Large tresses, and wele bee-comyng,
                        
                          Browes bente and nose well sittyng;
                        
                          The mouthe so wele sittyng ywys,
                        
                          To kisse it ofte it was grete blys;
                          Line 70 
                        
                          With grey eyen and nekke white,
                        
                          Hir to see it was grete delite.
                        
                          Hir bodye well sette and shaply;
                        
                          By thoo daies ther was nōōn suche truely.
                        
                          Gentil she was and as demure
                          Line 75 
                        
                          As girfauk, or fawkon to lure,
                        
                          That oute of muwe were drawe;
                        
                          So faire was noon, in sothe sawe.
                        
                          She was therto curteys and free ywys,
                        
                          And in the .vii. artes well lerned, withoute mys.
                          Line 80 
                        
                          All the .vii. artis she kouthe well,
                        
                          Noon better that euere man herde tell.
                        
                          Hir maisters were thider come
                        
                          Oute of Tholouse all and some;
                        
                          White and hoore all they were,
                          Line 85 
                        
                          Bisy they were that mayden to lere;
                        
                          And they hir lerned of astronomye,
                        
                          Of Ars-meotrik, and of geometrye.
                        
                          Of Sophestrie she was also witty,
                        
                          Of Rethoric, and of other clergye;
                          Line 90 
                        
                          Lerned she was in musyke; [Caius MS. 107 page 4] 
                        
                          Of clergie was hir noon like.
                        
                          She was a woman of grete corage,
                        
                          Wise and faire and of gaye parage.
                        
                          To haue hir to wif he did hir sende
                          Line 95 
                        
                          Erles, Dukes, fro the worldes ende;
                        
                          And noon of theim haue she wolde,
                        
                          For that she was so faire holde.

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                          Felice .la bele hir name is:
                        
                          Moche she was belouid ywis;
                          Line 100 
                        
                          Of all faire she was the floure,
                        
                          Noon so faire in halle nor boure
                        
                          As she was; who that soughte
                        
                          So faire to fynde, for noughte he wroughte:
                        
                          He that all hir beaute write wolde,
                          Line 105 
                        
                          To longe tarying make he sholde.

                        
                          NOWE WE shull leue of hir here,
                        
                          And telle you forthe of our matiere.
                        
                          Speke we schull of the Stywarde:
                        
                          Well true he was, and highte Sywarde.
                          Line 110 
                        
                          This Syward was slighe and wise,
                        
                          Riche of kynde, and of grete prise:
                        
                          In his tyme noon better was,
                        
                          For of grete worship was noon in his caas.
                        
                          Of armes he had been chief on grounde,
                          Line 115 
                        
                          And therof preised in many a londe;
                        
                          For that he wolde preysed bee,
                        
                          He did him bee knowen in many a contree.
                        
                          In Walyngforde he was borne.
                        
                          All that Contree to him was sworne.
                          Line 120 
                        
                          A swiche noble man he was, [Caius MS. 107 page 5] 
                        
                          On this half the see noon suche was,
                        
                          That serued his lorde so truely,
                        
                          And in all thinges so worshipfully.
                        
                          Ther was noon Erle in all that londe
                          Line 125 
                        
                          That his lorde durste withstonde,
                        
                          Bot he with loue it amended anoone,
                        
                          Hastely he wolde vpon him goone,
                        
                          And with strengthe hym haue wolde,
                        
                          Though he therfor in to Scotlonde sholde.
                          Line 130 
                        
                          All his lordes londe well and truely
                        
                          He maynteyned it full worshipfully;
                        
                          That noon was so hardy a man,
                        
                          That with wronge durste come than.

Page 11

                        
                          Fastenned he had suche a pees,
                          Line 135 
                        
                          That neuere sithe noon better was:
                        
                          Though men did bere an hundred pounde,
                        
                          Vpon him, of penyes rounde,
                        
                          There shulde not bee founde in all the londe
                        
                          A theef that him wolde hurte ne shonde,
                          Line 140 
                        
                          Nor take fro him the worthe of a sloo:
                        
                          So good pees there was thoo.
                        
                          That same Stywarde had a sone
                        
                          Wise and curteys at Frome;
                        
                          All men him did loue sothely,
                          Line 145 
                        
                          Ther was noon that him wolde shonye.
                        
                          To All men yiftes yiue he wolde,
                        
                          Therfore so curteis he was holde.
                        
                          The Erle Rohaud he serued thoo,
                        
                          His kynde Lorde, so mote y goo.
                          Line 150 
                        
                          The Erle him loued hertly and dere, [Caius MS. 107 page 6] 
                        
                          Ouer all other that with him were.
                        
                          Of his coupe he him serue Didde,
                        
                          And priuyest with him in euery stede:
                        
                          The Erle Rohaud mikel him worshipped,
                          Line 155 
                        
                          And for his fader loue thoo farther him cleped.
                        
                          Guye of Warrewik his name was,
                        
                          In all the courte nōōn more honoured nas:
                        
                          Of knyghtes and of grete lordinges,
                        
                          Of more and lasse, in all thinges.
                          Line 160 
                        
                          Mikell he was, and of grete mighte,
                        
                          And fairest of all other be sighte:
                        
                          All him behelde wondirly,
                        
                          His fairenesse was so grete truly;
                        
                          So many goodnesses in him were:
                          Line 165 
                        
                          All him preised that were there.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guye a foster fader hadde,
                        
                          That him lerned and also redde

                          Line 170

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                          Line 170 
                        
                          Of wode, of Ryuer, of all game:
                        
                          Heraude of Arderne was his name.
                        
                          He was curteys, and well taughte,
                        
                          Guye he lerned and forgate him naughte;
                        
                          Mikell he kouthe of haukes and houndes,
                          Line 175 
                        
                          Of Ostours, of Faukons of grete moundes.
                        
                          All that wolde of him oughte craue,
                        
                          With good wille they shulde it haue.
                        
                          To parsons and to pouer knyghtes
                        
                          Ofte he wolde yiue riche yiftes;
                          Line 180 
                        
                          And to other ofte yiue he wolde
                        
                          Palfrey or stede, siluer and golde,
                        
                          Euery man after his good dede [Caius MS. 107 page 7] 
                        
                          Of Guye vnderfangeth his mede.

                        
                          ON WITSONDAYE called Pentecoste
                          Line 185 
                        
                          The Erle helde a grete feste
                        
                          In Warrewik, that good Citee,
                        
                          As it euer was wonte to bee.
                        
                          There were Erles, barons, and knyghtes,
                        
                          And many a man of grete myghtes;
                          Line 190 
                        
                          Ladies and maydens of grete renown,
                        
                          The grettest desired ther' to bee bown.
                        
                          Many a mayde there chese hir loue anone
                        
                          Of knyghtes that thider were come,
                        
                          And the knyghtes also their' lemans there
                          Line 195 
                        
                          Of the maidens that there were.
                        
                          Whan they fro chirche were come,
                        
                          In to the halle they yode full sone.
                        
                          Whan the Erle to the mete sette was,
                        
                          Guye stode before him in that plaas,
                          Line 200 
                        
                          He that was Sywardes sone,
                        
                          To whom the Erle grete loue had nome.
                        
                          The Erle cleped to him Guye,
                        
                          To him gan sey and commaunded on highe,
                        
                          That he in to the chambre wente
                          Line 205 
                        
                          And grete well his doughter that was so gente;

Page 15

                        
                          And that he shulde at mete that Daie
                        
                          Bee willyng to serue that faire mayē.
                        
                          'Sir,' seide Guy full freely,
                        
                          'I doo youre heste full blithely.'
                          Line 210 
                        
                          With a silken kirtell began him shrede,
                        
                          And in to the Chambre than he yede.
                        
                          The kirtell so well sitting it was, [Caius MS. 107 page 8] 
                        
                          It to amende noo nede it has;
                        
                          Guy was so well shape and gentille,
                          Line 215 
                        
                          The maidens him behelde with good wille.
                        
                          On knees before Felice he him sette,
                        
                          And on hir fader behalue he hir grette,
                        
                          And seide how he was thider sentte
                        
                          To serue hir to hir talentte.
                          Line 220 
                        
                          Felice answerd ayene to Guye,
                        
                          'Beaux amye, moult gramercye.'
                        
                          And than she asked him in that place
                        
                          Where that he borne was.
                        
                          And Guye seide, 'my fader is called Sywarde,
                          Line 225 
                        
                          That is youre faders Stywarde;
                        
                          Many a daye he hath me with him holde,
                        
                          And forthe me bredde, god him foryelde!'
                        
                          'Bee ye,' she seide, 'Sywardes sone,
                        
                          That all goodnesse hath in wone?'
                          Line 230 
                        
                          Guye stode stille and spake noughte.
                        
                          With that the water was forth broughte:
                        
                          She did wesshe and wente to mete anone
                        
                          And so did knyght, squier, and grome.
                        
                          All his mighte he did that daie
                          Line 235 
                        
                          To serue well that faire maye.
                        
                          Wele to serue he did his myghte
                        
                          Moo than thirty maidens brighte;
                        
                          That all they anamoured were
                        
                          On Guye for his faire chere.
                          Line 240 
                        
                          And he therof rekked noughte,
                        
                          For vpon another' was his thoughte:

Page 17

                        
                          On Felice with the nebbe so brighte [Caius MS. 107 page 9] 
                        
                          He kaste his loue with all his mighte;
                        
                          That he ne wiste what to doo,
                          Line 245 
                        
                          Hir loue werked him suche woo.
                        
                          He wepte with mayne slilye,
                        
                          And mourned in hym self softelye,
                        
                          That he euere shulde see
                        
                          Hir brighte rodye, hir faire blee.
                          Line 250 
                        
                          Moche wonder he hath ywis,
                        
                          That she so faire a creatur is.
                        
                          He durste not to hir his loue kithe,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Bot to his chambre wente right swithe:
                        
                          Withoute any leue takyng of Felice thoo,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Oute of his chambre he did goo.
                          Line 260 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than asked of him his meyne,
                        
                          Why that he so heuy wolde bee.
                        
                          Guye answerd theim anone,
                          Line 265 
                        
                          Seying that sikenesse is come him vpon,
                        
                          Wherthurgh his lif he weneth to forgoo,
                        
                          And neuere helth to haue of his woo.

                        
                          IN THE COURTE mikel bemened is Guy:
                        
                          For him was many a man sory;
                          Line 270 
                        
                          For he was wonned to serue theim wele,
                        
                          And to theim yiue many a ieowele.
                        
                          Nowe is Guy in grete tempeste,
                        
                          Sorowe he maketh with the moste;
                        
                          For loue that he had to the maye
                          Line 275 
                        
                          His sorowe encressed nyghte and daie.
                        
                          Nowe is Guye so euyll bee stadde,
                        
                          Hym self he helde for a man madde.

Page 19

                        
                          For the sorowe that bim befallen is, [Caius MS. 107 page 10] 
                        
                          Ofte he bemeneth him self y-wis:
                          Line 280 
                        
                          'In wicked peyne sey y may,
                        
                          That y ne may beholde hir eyen gray,
                        
                          Hir graye eyen, hir nebbe so shene;
                        
                          For hir my lif is in a wene.
                        
                          To hir y shall telle my thoughte,
                          Line 285 
                        
                          For whom y am in this sorowe broughte.
                        
                          What so euere come to me good or ylle,
                        
                          I woll it noo lenger concele for to spille.
                        
                          Bot streight to hir woll y goo,
                        
                          And in hir mercy y shall me doo;
                          Line 290 
                        
                          And if she woll, she may me slee,
                        
                          And hir wille doo with me.
                        
                          Yf I my sorowe hir doo not telle,
                        
                          Allas, wrecche, how shall y duelle?
                        
                          Allas, wrecche, that me is woo!
                          Line 295 
                        
                          Ine wote what y may doo:
                        
                          For my lordys Doughter she is,
                        
                          And y his norry ywis;
                        
                          Therfor the more beholding to him y bee,
                        
                          And neuere noo-wher his harme to see.
                          Line 300 
                        
                          If y hir loued and wite might he,
                        
                          And therwith he may take me,
                        
                          Brenne he me wolde, or the hede of smyte,
                        
                          Or highe hange for that dispite,
                        
                          Or all to-hewe with swerdes kene,
                          Line 305 
                        
                          And y him did suche a tene.
                        
                          Allas, y wrecche! what may y doo?
                        
                          I loue hir that is my foo.'
                        
                          Nowe is Guye in so moche sorowe broughte, [Caius MS. 107 page 11] 
                        
                          That of his lif he rekketh noughte;
                          Line 310 
                        
                          Nor he woteth what he may doo,
                        
                          For the grete sorowe that cometh him to.
                        
                          He wende, he trende his bodde vpon,
                        
                          As man that is woo bee goon;

Page 21

                        
                          He ne may sitte, nor he may stonde,
                          Line 315 
                        
                          Nor vnnethe vnto him drawe his honde,
                        
                          Ne reste take of any slepinge,
                        
                          Nor ete mete, nor drinke drinke;
                        
                          Nor may noo man him comforte,
                        
                          Bot euere is songe is woo with disporte.
                          Line 320 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thus lyueth Guy in grete turmente
                          Line 325 
                        
                          Till the feest was ouer wente;
                        
                          Afterward he bethoughte is
                        
                          That he doth as the man wyse,
                        
                          That he shall loue bot strengthe haue
                        
                          Him self whan him luste to with-drawe.
                          Line 330 
                        
                          Than thinketh he, good it is hir to shewe
                        
                          The peynes that for hir greueth me newe:
                        
                          And she of my sorowe knoweth noughte,
                        
                          To ende y wolde my lif were broughte.
                        
                          Bee-tide me yuel either goode,
                          Line 335 
                        
                          I woll not lyue in this mode;
                        
                          Bot y shall to hir goo,
                        
                          And in hir mercy y shall me doo.
                        
                          Yf that she woll, she may me spille;
                        
                          Bot for all that y ne leue wille.
                          Line 340

                        
                          GUYE IS to courte come,
                        
                          As man that is in sorowe nome.
                        
                          On knees before Felice he hym didde, [Caius MS. 107 page 12] 
                        
                          And sorowfully seide in that stede,
                        
                          All with quakyng steuene;
                          Line 345 
                        
                          Thus he seide, and spake full euene:
                        
                          'Felice the faire, for goddis loue, mercy!
                        
                          On me haue reuthe for our lady,
                        
                          That y ne fynde the my full foo,
                        
                          For loue y you praye, herken me to.

                          Line 350

Page 23

                        
                          Line 350 
                        
                          Hense forewarde y woll not hele
                        
                          The grete loue, that me doth fele:
                        
                          Shewe y muste the peyne and sorowe
                        
                          That y haue for you euyne and morowe.
                        
                          Ye bee that thynge for whom y mourne,
                          Line 355 
                        
                          Fro you ne may my herte tourne:
                        
                          Ouere all thinge y muste you loue,
                        
                          Whether it tourne benethe or aboue,
                        
                          Bot that y shall loue you aye,
                        
                          Whiles that y lyue maye.
                          Line 360 
                        
                          Vnder heuen noo thinge is,
                        
                          Were it good or yuel ywis,
                        
                          That y for the doo it [ne] wolde,
                        
                          My lif to lese though y shulde.
                        
                          Ye bee my lif and my deth y-wis:
                          Line 365 
                        
                          Withoute you loste is all my blis.
                        
                          Well more y loue you than me: [Caius MS. 107 page 12:2] 
                        
                          Deye y shall for loue of you pardee,
                        
                          Bot thou haue mercy on me,
                        
                          Myself y shall for sorowe slee.
                          Line 370 
                        
                          Yf ye wiste the heuynesse,
                        
                          The grete peyne, and the sorowfulnesse,
                        
                          That y haue for you nyghte and daye [Caius MS. 107 page 13] 
                        
                          (With true loue y it saye)—
                        
                          And you it might witterly see,
                          Line 375 
                        
                          I trowe ye wolde haue mercy on me.'
                        
                          Felice to him answerde thoo,
                        
                          'Telle me, Guye, if ye bee so
                        
                          The Stywardis sone that highte Sywarde,
                        
                          I holde you for a fole musarde.
                          Line 380 
                        
                          Nowe thou me haste of loue besoughte,
                        
                          To fole-hardy thou art in thoughte,
                        
                          Or thou me takest for a fole.
                        
                          Thou art taughte of wikked scole,
                        
                          Whiles y am thy lordes Doughter by name;
                          Line 385 
                        
                          Me thinketh thou doost him mikel shame,

Page 25

                        
                          Whan thou of loue besechest me,
                        
                          And that y shulde thy lemman bee.
                        
                          Ne fonde y neuere man that so moche mysseide,
                        
                          Nor that so folisshe of loue me preide,
                          Line 390 
                        
                          Neither knyghte, Erle, ne baron;
                        
                          Bot thou art bot a garson,
                        
                          That art my man, and shuldest bee.
                        
                          Euyll were my beaute besette on the,
                        
                          Yf y a grome loued and toke,
                          Line 395 
                        
                          And so many faire knyghtis forsoke.
                        
                          Erles, Dukes, of all the beste,
                        
                          And of all the worlde the richeste
                        
                          Ouere all men desired me a plighte,
                        
                          Suche as on me neuere had sighte;
                          Line 400 
                        
                          Dispreised to moche y shuld bee
                        
                          To leue all theim and take the!
                        
                          All to grete hardiship thou thoughtest, [Caius MS. 107 page 14] 
                        
                          Whan thou of loue me besoughtest.
                        
                          By my moder soule y the swere,
                          Line 405 
                        
                          And y to my fader this tyding bere,
                        
                          To slee the or the vtterly fordoo,
                        
                          (By the shull bee warned other moo)
                        
                          Or with wilde hors all to-drawe,
                        
                          For thy folie that were the lawe.
                          Line 410 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Goo hense swithe! vp arise,
                        
                          And come nomore here in this wise!'

                        
                          Full SOROWFULLY thense gooth Guy
                          Line 415 
                        
                          Home to his Inne all sory:
                        
                          In to his Chambre he is goon,
                        
                          And beshette him therin all aloon.
                        
                          There he made sorowe and sorowe enough:
                        
                          His clothes he rende, his heer he drough.

                          Line 420

Page 27

                        
                          Line 420 
                        
                          Of loue he bemeneth him strongely,
                        
                          For whom he hath sorowe gretly:
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Loue, a-slake me of this wodenesse,
                        
                          And respite graunte me more or lesse,
                          Line 430 
                        
                          That y might reste me a throwe,
                        
                          Wherthurgh my sorowe may ouere blowe.
                        
                          To farre y am kaste in vnmyghte,
                        
                          My herte is heuy, and noo-thing lighte.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          What shall y doo? how shall y fare?
                        
                          I may not lyue longe in this kare.
                        
                          Allas, deth! what art thou?
                        
                          Vnnethe may y stonde now:
                        
                          Deth! come forth, and take me anoon;
                          Line 445 
                        
                          For loste been my wittes euerych oon.
                        
                          Dede y deserue for to bee, [Caius MS. 107 page 15] 
                        
                          Whan y muste loue that hateth me.
                        
                          And herken nowe what seith the wise,
                        
                          That sheweth ensample of good assise:
                          Line 450 
                        
                          For a fole he seith y him holde,
                        
                          That taketh a more burden than he may welde;
                        
                          So fare y nowe, weleawaye!
                        
                          I loue the loue that y ne haue maye.'
                        
                          To a wyndowe Guy yede thoo,
                          Line 455 
                        
                          For to beholde the castell and the toure also:
                        
                          'O toure, thou art full faire sette!
                        
                          In the is that maide beshette,

Page 29

                        
                          That lyueth in ioye and in blisse:
                        
                          Hir loue me woundeth withoute mysse.
                          Line 460 
                        
                          O toure, why ne were thou ouerethrawe,
                        
                          And vpon the grounde all to-drawe!
                        
                          Than might y my lemman see,
                        
                          That y loue more than me!'
                        
                          He gynneth him bethinke and sore sighe,
                          Line 465 
                        
                          His sorowe enneweth euere gretly;
                        
                          To grounde he felle, and swowne beganne:
                        
                          More sorowe had neuere manne.
                        
                          The tyme he cursed that he was borne;
                        
                          For loue he hath his witte lorne.
                          Line 470 
                        
                          'O loue,' he seide, 'cursed thou bee!
                        
                          So moche mighte is in the.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Allas, Felice! that same stounde,
                        
                          That euere thy loue hath me so stronge bounde!
                        
                          And that y the serue shulde that daye,
                        
                          Allas the while! nowe y sey maye.
                          Line 480 
                        
                          Shall y not haue noon other mede, [Caius MS. 107 page 16] 
                        
                          To a-slake my sorowe y had nede.
                        
                          I loue the and thou noughte me.
                        
                          Eeuenly deled ne that may bee:
                        
                          Of all my sorowe thou hast noughte.
                          Line 485 
                        
                          Allas! to grounde y am broughte!
                        
                          Thou hast the good and y the quede:
                        
                          I brenne as doth the sparke on glede.
                        
                          Thou art to lither a woman,
                        
                          That for a lokyng the vpon
                          Line 490 
                        
                          A man shuld dye for that sighte:
                        
                          Mercy, Felice, thou swete wighte!
                        
                          Myn herte is with venym spilde;
                        
                          With blisse nomore it is like bee filde.'

Page 31

                        
                          Suche lif had Guy sikirly
                          Line 495 
                        
                          All that weke hoolly.
                        
                          For him his fader was well sory,
                        
                          Sabyne his moder bemeneth Guy,
                        
                          The Erle for him sory was,
                        
                          That it liked noon in that place:
                          Line 500 
                        
                          Litell and moche, all and some,
                        
                          Guy bemeneth at Frome.

                        
                          THE ERLE did for leches sende
                        
                          To wite of Guyes euyl an ende.
                        
                          The leches to him been goo:
                          Line 505 
                        
                          Guy they fonde as blak as sloo;
                        
                          Than they asked how it with him stode.
                        
                          'For hete,' he seide, 'y breide nyghe wode:
                        
                          So mikell hete is in me,
                        
                          That longe y ne may on lyue bee.
                          Line 510 
                        
                          Hotter y am thanne fire brennyng, [Caius MS. 107 page 17] 
                        
                          Sorowe and woo is my menyng;
                        
                          All my body it hath vnright:
                        
                          Suche lif y lede daye and nyght.
                        
                          After that hete cometh a chele
                          Line 515 
                        
                          That sore me greueth withoute hele;
                        
                          Than wexe y colder than the yys:
                        
                          Suche maner myn yuel is.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Line 520 
                        
                          This is my lif nyghte and daie:
                        
                          No more y kan therof you saie.'

                        
                          THANNE seide that oon, 'a feuer'. it is.'
                        
                          'Ye,' quoth Guy, 'the leuer me. y-wis.'
                        
                          The leches goth, and Guy leue allone,
                          Line 525 
                        
                          That rewthfully maketh his mone.
                        
                          'Now god,' quoth Guy, 'what shall y doo?
                        
                          How longe shall laste me this woo?
                        
                          Why ne may y dede bee,
                        
                          Whan y ne may hir mery yen see,

                          Line 530

Page 33

                        
                          Line 530 
                        
                          That hath all myn hertis thoughte?
                        
                          And y neuere amysse did hir noughte,
                        
                          Bot oonly that y loue hir well,
                        
                          And euere while y lyue shall.
                        
                          Yf y hir beseche, she woll it telle
                          Line 535 
                        
                          Hir fader, and than he woll me quelle.
                        
                          And though he it wiste right nowe, a plighte,
                        
                          Nomore than slee me doo he mighte.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Bot y shall goo and speke hir too,
                          Line 541 
                        
                          And shewe hir my grete woo.
                        
                          Vnder heuen is not so harde thing
                        
                          As is loue in wowyng.'
                        
                          Yet seide he after thanne, [Caius MS. 107 page 18] 
                          Line 545 
                        
                          'Though she me blame, noo force y kanne;
                        
                          Bot to hir y shall sey so,
                        
                          That loue me did thider goo.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy with that arisen is,
                          Line 551 
                        
                          And to the Courte he wente ywis.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

                        
                          Nowe is Guy to Courte come,
                        
                          As man that was with woo nome;
                        
                          In to an herber he is goo,
                          Line 565 
                        
                          Felice he fonde therin thoo;

Page 35

                        
                          At hir fete he him leyde,
                        
                          And than all wepyng to hir he seide:
                        
                          'Y am come mercy to aske of the;
                        
                          Yf thou woll thou maist slee me;
                          Line 570 
                        
                          Thy commaundement y wote well y haue broke,
                        
                          Now that y am come before thy loke.
                        
                          And leef me were surely
                        
                          The sorowe that y haue suffred by and by,
                        
                          Stronge peyne sorowe and woo
                          Line 575 
                        
                          That y for the haue endured eueremoo.
                        
                          Myn herte shall y leue with the:
                        
                          Woll thou or not, so shall it bee;
                        
                          My body farther goo ne may,
                        
                          And my wille lasteth ay.
                          Line 580 
                        
                          While y lyue, the loue y wille,
                        
                          Whether y saue my self or spille;
                        
                          Thurgh me demed it shall not bee
                        
                          Whiles that lif is within me.
                        
                          The to loue thou may not forbede,
                          Line 585 
                        
                          With sorowe and woo thou dost me fede.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Fro hense foreward it rekketh not me [Caius MS. 107 page 19] 
                        
                          Of my lif how so it bee,
                        
                          Ne of my deth neuere the moo
                          Line 595 
                        
                          I ne rekke how that it goo,
                        
                          For of this lif y am chekmate.'
                        
                          A-downe he felle swounyng with that;
                        
                          Felice loked vpon him thoo.
                        
                          And behelde his grete woo;
                          Line 600 
                        
                          Ruthe she had in hir herte
                        
                          Of his sorowe and his smerte.

Page 37

                        
                          To a maide she seide thoo:
                        
                          'Take him vp in thyn armes twoo,
                        
                          And ley him vp fro the grounde,
                          Line 605 
                        
                          Till him bee past that bitter stounde.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'By god of heuen,' that maide seide,
                        
                          'Though y were of the worlde the fairest maide,
                          Line 610 
                        
                          And the Richest Kyngis Doughter were
                        
                          That in this worlde crowne dooth bere,
                        
                          And he of my loue desirous were,
                        
                          As he is of thine in stronge manere,
                        
                          Ne wolde y him my loue werne,
                          Line 615 
                        
                          And he me wolde therof lerne.
                        
                          Felice the faire answerd therto:
                        
                          'Avoide, damesell, why seist thou so?
                        
                          So thou shuld not rede me;
                        
                          Thou art to blame forsothe y telle the.
                          Line 620 
                        
                          Thou hast ofte herde this speche,
                        
                          That we ne shuld noman beseche,
                        
                          But they shuld beseche women
                        
                          On the fairest manere that they kan,
                        
                          And assaye yf they spede may [Caius MS. 107 page 20] 
                          Line 625 
                        
                          Either by nyghte or by day.'
                        
                          Guy of swounyng awaked thoo;
                        
                          The maide helde him in hir armes twoo.

                        
                          'GUYE,' QUOTH Felice, 'thou doost folie:
                        
                          Woll thou for my loue dye?
                          Line 630 
                        
                          After my fader y woll sende,
                        
                          And telle him euery worde to the ende,
                        
                          That thou him doost grete disworship
                        
                          Whan thou desirest my shenship;
                        
                          In this Courte he shall dampne the
                          Line 635 
                        
                          Highe to hange, to please me.
                        
                          Guye answerd anone right thoo:
                        
                          'Now god wolde it might bee so,

Page 39

                        
                          That of my deth thou might bee the wite!
                        
                          Therof y shulde bee wonder lighte!
                          Line 640 
                        
                          I am all redy it to fonge,
                        
                          Bee it with right or with wronge;
                        
                          For suche a drinke me is yiue,
                        
                          That y ne kepe noo lenger lyue;
                        
                          Myn hede y shall fayne for the leye,
                          Line 645 
                        
                          I rekke not what any man seye.'
                        
                          Felice had of him grete ruthe:
                        
                          'Guye,' she seide, 'thou louest in truthe;
                        
                          To moche thou art thurgh loue assailled,
                        
                          That thy wittes been gretly dismaied.
                          Line 650 
                        
                          So moche y shall nowe doo for the
                        
                          That more thou maist not bidde me:
                        
                          Ther nys Lady nor man noon, [Caius MS. 107 page 21] 
                        
                          So wide as me might in this Contree goon,
                        
                          And thou loued hir as thou doost me,
                          Line 655 
                        
                          But she wolde graunte to loue the.'
                        
                          'Felice,' quoth Guy, 'lete that bee,
                        
                          For thou doost bot scorne me.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Guy,' quoth Felice, 'nowe vnderstonde:
                        
                          My wille y haue to the in this stounde;
                        
                          And take it not for noon vnskille
                          Line 665 
                        
                          Though y sey to the my wille.
                        
                          I woll loue noo knaue in wone
                        
                          Before that he bee knyght bee-come,
                        
                          Faire and hende and gretly sette by,
                        
                          Of armes good and hardy;
                          Line 670 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thanne shall thou haue the loue of me,
                        
                          Yf thou wolbee as y telle the.'

Page 41

                        
                          THANNE GUY herde that tyding,
                          Line 675 
                        
                          For ioye his herte beganne to spryng;
                        
                          His loue to hir anone he kaste than,
                        
                          And in-to the Castell forthwith he cam;
                        
                          As sone as he might it doo,
                        
                          To the highe palais he gan goo:
                          Line 680 
                        
                          Of oon daie hym thoughte ten,
                        
                          That he ne might see his lemman.
                        
                          Whan he him felte hole and suer,
                        
                          To Courte he gooth with gladde cher;
                        
                          Full gladde chere they him made,
                          Line 685 
                        
                          And thanked god, and were right glade
                        
                          That Guy was to Courte come: [Caius MS. 107 page 22] 
                        
                          Gladde they were all and some.
                        
                          Before the Erle tho come Guy,
                        
                          To him he kneled as to his lorde mighti;
                          Line 690 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'armes y aske the,
                        
                          Yf y bee worthy accepte to bee;
                        
                          Yf it bee thy wille that y theim fonge,
                        
                          And serue the lorde withoute wronge.'

                        
                          THE ERLE Rohaud answerd thoo,
                          Line 695 
                        
                          'Blithely, Guy, sithe thou wolt so.'
                        
                          The Erle dooth than apparaille
                        
                          Guyes dobbing withoute faille;
                        
                          He dud him dobbe richely,
                        
                          And with him of his felawes twenty
                          Line 700 
                        
                          That all good barons sones were,
                        
                          (For Guyes loue he dobbed theim all there)
                        
                          That with the Erle Rohaud had bee longe
                        
                          In seruice, armes for to fonge.
                        
                          It was at the fest of the holy Trinyte,
                          Line 705 
                        
                          That the Erle dobbed Guy so free,
                        
                          And other twenty for his loue,
                        
                          Good knyghtis [and] barons sones, aboue.
                        
                          Of riche Clothes and sendall
                        
                          Was their dobbyng, thurgh-oute all;

                          Line 710

Page 43

                        
                          Line 710 
                        
                          Of riche panys of faire grys,
                        
                          And with mantellis riche of pris;
                        
                          Of good armes and stoute stedes,
                        
                          Of all the londe the beste at nedes.
                        
                          Ouere theim all was Guy best dighte,
                          Line 715 
                        
                          Though he an Emperouris sone had bee righte:'
                        
                          Ther might noon better dighte bee: [Caius MS. 107 page 23] 
                        
                          With all kynnes armes dobbed was he.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Ther ne was squier neither knaue
                        
                          That failled oughte bot he shuld haue.
                        
                          Now is Guy dobbed knyght,
                        
                          Curteis and hende, and of grete myght.
                        
                          Than to Felice he ganne goo,
                          Line 725 
                        
                          With grete loue he resouned hir thoo:
                        
                          'Well thou wotest, lemman, that it is so,
                        
                          For the that y haue suffred grete woo
                        
                          In all my body, y the plighte,
                        
                          Thou hast made me passing lighte.
                          Line 730 
                        
                          Armes y haue for the fonge,
                        
                          The to see me thoughte longe;
                        
                          Now y am at thy wille come,
                        
                          As to hir that y loue most in wone.
                        
                          Than seide Felice, 'ne haste the nought:
                          Line 735 
                        
                          Yet hast thou noo thing of armes wroughte.
                        
                          Noo better thou art neuere a dele
                        
                          Than thou were before, y preoue it wele,
                        
                          Bot oonly that thou hast newe dobbyng,
                        
                          And knyght art cleped withoute lesyng.
                          Line 740 
                        
                          Bot whan y may wite and see
                        
                          That thou hast in tormentis bee,
                        
                          And that thou hast knyghtes nome,
                        
                          Castellis and Toures ouerecome,
                        
                          And thurgh all the londe and Contree
                          Line 745 
                        
                          Thy knyghthode full good knowen bee,

Page 45

                        
                          And that it bee for thy myghte,
                        
                          And than thou may aske me loue with righte.

                        
                          WHANNE GUY herde Felice so speke, [Caius MS. 107 page 24] 
                        
                          His leue he toke and ganne oute reke;
                          Line 750 
                        
                          Of Felice he toke his leue anone,
                        
                          And to his Fader he gan gone.
                        
                          'Sir,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me:
                        
                          I am nowe dobbed as ye may see;
                        
                          Ouer see y woll fare
                          Line 755 
                        
                          To take lawes and pris there.'
                        
                          Syward his fader answerd his sone,
                        
                          'God graunte the well ayene to come!
                        
                          Siluer and golde take enowe,
                        
                          As moche as nedeth for thy prowe;
                          Line 760 
                        
                          At thy wille take with the
                        
                          Hors and harneys and good mayne.'
                        
                          Sywarde clepeth heraude to him,
                        
                          And seide, 'heraude, frende myn,
                        
                          With my sone thou shalt wende
                          Line 765 
                        
                          In good stede with him to lende.
                        
                          Thou shalt kepe my sone Guy
                        
                          That is yonge knyght and thy nory,
                        
                          For he is bot a yongelyng;
                        
                          I you beteche bothe to heuen King,
                          Line 770 
                        
                          And the heraude for to kepe;
                        
                          And thy felawes all by hepe,
                        
                          That is Tureld and Vrry,
                        
                          In you y truste sikirly;
                        
                          To-gider with heraude they shull goo,
                          Line 775 
                        
                          To kepe my sones body fro woo.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth they euerychon, [Caius MS. 107 page 25] 
                        
                          'Full gladly we woll with him goon.'
                        
                          Knyghtes they were full good, y plighte,
                        
                          Of all the contree the best in fighte.
                          Line 780 
                        
                          Guy toke of siluer and golde
                        
                          As moche as he haue wolde.

Page 47

                        
                          To the see they been come,
                        
                          And ouere they saille at Frome;
                        
                          Come they been in-to Normandye,
                          Line 785 
                        
                          Knyghthode shewyng by and by.
                        
                          At . . . . .  taketh Guy herborough
                        
                          With the richest of that borowgh;
                        
                          Of the best they had enough,
                        
                          Ne was ther noon that it with-drough;
                          Line 790 
                        
                          For they had enough euere see,
                        
                          Golde and siluer grete plentee.

                        
                          GUYE HIS hoste cleped him to;
                        
                          Tidinges he asked of him thoo
                        
                          Where that any torment shuld bee,
                          Line 795 
                        
                          So many sheldes ledde sawe he.
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth his hoste, 'ne wote ye nought
                        
                          Of a torment that is bethought?'
                        
                          'Noo,' quoth Guy, 'by Iesu swete,
                        
                          Therof ne herde y neuere yette.'
                          Line 800 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth his hoste, 'and ye woll duelle,
                        
                          All that y wote y shall you telle:
                        
                          A maide brighte and of grete pris,
                        
                          (Of Almaigne the Emperours Doughter she is)
                        
                          A turnement she hath doo cryde,
                          Line 805 
                        
                          I herde neuere noon suche on this side;
                        
                          For there nys knyghte in all Spaigne, [Caius MS. 107 page 26] 
                        
                          Anone to the see of Britaigne,
                        
                          That of armes aughtis named bee,
                        
                          Bot there his might men shall see.
                          Line 810 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Of euery londe thider come knyghtes,
                        
                          Proude and bolde, and stronge in fightes,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And they that been of most mighte,
                        
                          Grete worship they shall wynne, aplighte.

Page 49

                        
                          For that maide y spake of eer,
                        
                          Is the Emperours doughter Reyner;
                          Line 820 
                        
                          To that turnement he woll bringe that daye
                        
                          (Well may him bee that it wynne maye)
                        
                          A Girfauk all swanne white
                        
                          (Of his better y herde neuere yette)
                        
                          And an hors of grete bountee
                          Line 825 
                        
                          (It is worthe all a contree)
                        
                          And twoo Greyhoundes that good bee
                        
                          (Their better did ye neuere see);
                        
                          And he that the turnement ouere-cometh all
                        
                          On euery behalue, the pris he haue shall,
                          Line 830 
                        
                          The White Girfauk and the stede
                        
                          Bothe he shall haue to his mede
                        
                          And the Greyhoundes that so good beth,
                        
                          All shall he haue that best doeth;
                        
                          And that maide that is so free,
                          Line 835 
                        
                          Bot he haue a lemman that fairer bee.'
                        
                          Whan Guy herde this tyding,
                        
                          Well gladde he was withoute lesyng;
                        
                          Than seide Guy to his feere,
                        
                          'In good tyme come we here.
                          Line 840 
                        
                          To morowe as sone as it is daye, [Caius MS. 107 page 27] 
                        
                          We woll doo vs on oure weye.'
                        
                          Guy to his hoste a palfrey yaf
                        
                          For the tidingis that he him tolde hath.
                        
                          On the morowe full tymely
                          Line 845 
                        
                          On their wey thei dresse theim sikirly,
                        
                          Guy and his feres goode
                        
                          Barons all of kynde blode.
                        
                          Of riding doth they neuere stent
                        
                          Till they come to that turnement.
                          Line 850 
                        
                          Whan thei thider were come
                        
                          And sawe there many a semely man.
                        
                          Bothe by Ryuers and by feldes riding
                        
                          Many knyghtes they sawe comyng

Page 51

                        
                          And whan thei thider all were come,
                          Line 855 
                        
                          To ioustes they wente than full sone;
                        
                          Oute of the thrange they gan theim dighte,
                        
                          The Barons all of grete mighte.
                        
                          Than asked sir Guy
                        
                          Of a lorde that stode him by:
                          Line 860 
                        
                          'Who is nowe that same Knyght
                        
                          That oute of the rowe dooth him dight?'
                        
                          'I shall telle the: as y wene,
                        
                          That same with the armes shene
                        
                          A Knyght he is of grete pris,
                          Line 865 
                        
                          And y the swere by seynt Denys,
                        
                          For to iouste he is dighte,
                        
                          And he may fynde any knyghte
                        
                          That ayenst him darre iousty:
                        
                          Therto he maketh him redy.'
                          Line 870

                        
                          WHANNE GUYE sawe comyng was Gayer, [Caius MS. 107 page 28] 
                        
                          Redy to iouste he draweth him ner;
                        
                          Oute of the Rowe he dooth him hye,
                        
                          Well he sembled as a knyghte hardye.
                        
                          They smytten than to geders thoo,
                          Line 875 
                        
                          Full harde strokes they yiuen bothe two.
                        
                          Gaer smote Guy before,
                        
                          Thurghoute the shelde his launce he bore;
                        
                          The launce to-brake, that was so well wrought:
                        
                          The hauberkis were good and failled nought.
                          Line 880 
                        
                          And Guy to Gaer thoo he smote,
                        
                          That to grounde he felled him fote hote;
                        
                          That hors he taketh by the Reyne
                        
                          And forthe he wendeth with meyne.
                        
                          Tho beganne that turnement:
                          Line 885 
                        
                          Eche Knyght on other smote good dent;
                        
                          Harde they smyte, y the plighte,
                        
                          Eche to take other they doo their mighte.
                        
                          So many knyghtis Guy toke that daye
                        
                          And thurgh his strength ouerecome that playe,

                          Line 890

Page 53

                        
                          Line 890 
                        
                          That euery man wondred therof:
                        
                          So many helmes he there all to-drof.
                        
                          That daye satte noman there so faste,
                        
                          Bot that he felled him at the laste.
                        
                          And the Duke Otes of Pauye
                          Line 895 
                        
                          At Guy he had grete enuye;
                        
                          For pride he wolde with him iousty,
                        
                          And therof hym befelle grete vilanye.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thurgh the shulder Guy him smote,
                        
                          To grounde he felle, god it wote.
                        
                          The Duke Reyner sawe that caas, [Caius MS. 107 page 29] 
                          Line 905 
                        
                          And therfore he full angry was.
                        
                          Toward Guy he ganne dryue,
                        
                          Him to smyte he hieth bylyue
                        
                          And seide to Guy: 'in euyl stounde
                        
                          Thou gaue Duke Otes a greuous wounde.
                          Line 910 
                        
                          In euyl tyme thou iousted with him.
                        
                          He is my nyghe germayne Cousyn:
                        
                          I am the Duke Reyner that to the speke;
                        
                          I am come him on the to awreke.'
                        
                          'I graunte,' quoth Guy, 'so mote y thee.
                          Line 915 
                        
                          Withdrawe the anone and iouste with me.'
                        
                          Guy to him beganne to smyte
                        
                          And did him not spare bot a lite;
                        
                          An highe he smote him in the shelde,
                        
                          That downe he felled him in the feelde.
                          Line 920 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The hors by reyne he hath nome,
                        
                          And to the Duke therwith he is come.
                        
                          'Nowe here thy hors y take the;
                          Line 925 
                        
                          Yf y haue nede, yelde it me.'

Page 55

                        
                          And he full well quytte his while,
                        
                          As a good knyght shuld withoute gile;
                        
                          Sone ye may here euery dele
                        
                          How he him it yelde swithe wele.
                          Line 930 
                        
                          Whan the Duke Otes herde this,
                        
                          Ayenst Guy he come, ywis:
                        
                          'Sir Knyght, telle thou me
                        
                          Of whennes thou art and what thy name bee.'
                        
                          And Guy answerd than boldely,
                          Line 935 
                        
                          'I telle the nowe full truely:
                        
                          Guy of Warrewik men clepe me; [Caius MS. 107 page 30] 
                        
                          I was borne in that Contree.'
                        
                          The Duke of Louayne cometh with this
                        
                          And a good spere in his hande, ywis;
                          Line 940 
                        
                          To Guy he smote with grete hete,
                        
                          And he to him and wolde not lete:
                        
                          With grete dyntes they to-geder dryueth,
                        
                          That their launces all to-slyuereth.
                        
                          They smyte to-geder harde and wele
                          Line 945 
                        
                          With their swerdes of good steele.
                        
                          They thirle armes and sheldes also:
                        
                          Stronge fighte ther is betwene theim two.

                        
                          THANNE Heraude of Ardern forth gan springe,
                        
                          And the Duke he mette in his comynge:
                          Line 950 
                        
                          Farre of his hors he hath him felled
                        
                          All longestreight in the felde.
                        
                          To the Duke Gaudemer than he smote,
                        
                          And of his hors he felled him fote hote:
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Well he dooth as knyght hardy.
                        
                          With that cometh to him vrry.
                        
                          Thanne beganne that fighte with swerde:
                        
                          Of suche ye ne haue bot seelde herde.
                          Line 960 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 57

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Bot the folke sey of that contree
                          Line 965 
                        
                          That Guye euer the beste is he.
                        
                          And on morowe for the same
                        
                          The pris he had of that game.
                        
                          Guy is preised on euery side,
                        
                          And on him is tourned all the pride.
                          Line 970 
                        
                          And, tho come the thirde daye,
                        
                          That euery man shulde wende his weye,
                        
                          There come the Duke Reyner priking, [Caius MS. 107 page 31] 
                        
                          That good knyght was and well doyng.
                        
                          'Lordynges,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me,
                          Line 975 
                        
                          Yf y myssey, that it may amended bee.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          This Girfauk and this stede,
                        
                          Thise Greyhoundes shall haue to mede
                        
                          He that theim beste hath gete
                        
                          Is Guy of Warrewik, take ye kepe.
                        
                          And that therto withseith aught,
                          Line 985 
                        
                          Of bataille ne may he faille naught.'
                        
                          All they seide comenly,
                        
                          'Thy dome we graunte, sikirly.'
                        
                          Than they cryde as was the lawe
                        
                          That Guy the presenteȝ shuld haue by sothe sawe.
                          Line 990 
                        
                          Whan they were all went,
                        
                          Guy to his Inne is come, verament,
                        
                          And did him vnarme lightly;
                        
                          For of the turnement he was wery.
                        
                          With this cometh a sergeant ridyng
                          Line 995 
                        
                          Slie and wise and wele speking;
                        
                          To Guyes Inne he is come,
                        
                          And to Guy he wente right sone.

Page 59

                        
                          Curteisly Guy he grette:
                        
                          'Sir Guy,' he seide, 'god the kepe:
                          Line 1000 
                        
                          Thou art holde the best in this borough
                        
                          And in all this londe thurgh and thorough.
                        
                          Thou hast wonne the turnement,
                        
                          Therfore y bringe to the this present
                        
                          In the Maidens behalue Blanchefloure,
                          Line 1005 
                        
                          My lordes doughter the Emperoure:
                        
                          This white Girfauk, the stede also, [Caius MS. 107 page 32] 
                        
                          Thise white Greyhoundes, that good bee bothe two.
                        
                          Hir loue the she graunteth with all than,
                        
                          Bot if thou haue a fairer lemman,
                          Line 1010 
                        
                          Than she that is the toure withynne:
                        
                          This daie thou may hir loue wynne.'
                        
                          Full curteisly answerd Guy:
                        
                          'Of thise presenteȝ moult graunt mercy,
                        
                          And thanke hir that theim hider sent:
                          Line 1015 
                        
                          Full gladly y resceiue hir present,
                        
                          Hir knyght to bee withoute wronge:
                        
                          I shall hir duely vnderfonge.
                        
                          My leue frende, nowe vnderstonde me:
                        
                          Thou shall doo as y sey the.
                          Line 1020 
                        
                          Thise armes y shall the nowe yiue
                        
                          And make the riche while thou lyue;
                        
                          And all thy felawes that bee with the
                        
                          Riche yiftes they shull haue of me,
                        
                          And doo you y shall grete honour
                          Line 1025 
                        
                          For the Maidens loue Blancheflour.'
                        
                          'Grant mercy, sir Guy,' seide he;
                        
                          'For armes y come not to the,
                        
                          And right to the maide y shall wende
                        
                          And telle hir worde and ende,
                          Line 1030 
                        
                          To Blancheflour, that swete thing,
                        
                          And telle hir of the good tyding.'

THE YONGE man gooth and Guy lefte there, That is in ioye and not in kare.

Page 61

                        
                          Two sweynes Guy cleped him to,
                          Line 1035 
                        
                          To theim he seide and bade also,
                        
                          That they with that presentȝ shuld fonde [Caius MS. 107 page 33] 
                        
                          Assone as they might in-to Englonde
                        
                          And presente therwith in his worde
                        
                          The Erle Rouhaude, his kynde lorde.
                          Line 1040 
                        
                          Whan they herde what Guy theim bade,
                        
                          Full redy thei made theim with hert glade.
                        
                          They wente than in-to Englonde:
                        
                          At Warrewik the Erle there they fonde.
                        
                          The White Girfauk and the stede,
                          Line 1045 
                        
                          The two Greyhoundes that by theim yede,
                        
                          To the Erle they made their present;
                        
                          And that Guy it wanne at the turnement
                        
                          All they haue the Erle telde,
                        
                          And that he was the best in the felde,
                          Line 1050 
                        
                          And that he was moste sette by
                        
                          Of all the knyghtis in Normandy,
                        
                          And that the Emperrour doughter with all than
                        
                          Hadde him chose to hir lemman.

                        
                          WHANNE the Erle herde this,
                          Line 1055 
                        
                          Full gladde he was therof, ywis,
                        
                          That Guy so moche preised was.
                        
                          His fader thanked god of that cas:
                        
                          Felice the faire did also,
                        
                          Whan the tidinges were tolde hir to.
                          Line 1060 
                        
                          All his frendes olde and yinge
                        
                          Were full gladde of that tidinge.
                        
                          Tho wente Guy in-to farrer londe
                        
                          Turnementis and ioustes for to fonde.
                        
                          In Almaigne and in Lombardie,
                          Line 1065 
                        
                          In Fraunce and in Normandie.
                        
                          Ther was noo turnement, ywis, [Caius MS. 107 page 34] 
                        
                          Bot he was therat and had the pris.
                        
                          He was oute more than a yere:
                        
                          Thurgh all londes men preised him there

                          Line 1070

Page 63

                        
                          Line 1070 
                        
                          And helde him the best vnder sonne.
                        
                          Many a good frende he had there wonne.
                        
                          To ayene he is come
                        
                          And with his good hooste his Inne nome.

                        
                          'SIR,' QUOTH heraude to Guy
                          Line 1075 
                        
                          (His maister he was, a Knyght hardy),
                        
                          'To Englonde nowe woll we goo:
                        
                          With worship we may it nowe doo;
                        
                          For we haue ouere all bee
                        
                          And the pris wonne in euery contree.
                          Line 1080 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To the kyng thou shall acqueynte the
                          Line 1085 
                        
                          Of Englond, that is so free,
                        
                          And to the Barons also
                        
                          Wel bee-knowen thou shalt the doo.'
                        
                          'Maister,' he seith, 'y graunte wele,
                        
                          After the that it bee euery dele;
                          Line 1090 
                        
                          And to-morowe whan it is daye,
                        
                          We woll forthe on oure weye.'
                        
                          Guy aroosse on morowe thoo,
                        
                          And to the see they been goo:
                        
                          Assone as they might, to shippe they wente,
                          Line 1095 
                        
                          And in-to Englond they come in the lente.
                        
                          To kyng Athelston Guy is come,
                        
                          And with him he is aqueynted full sone,
                        
                          With the Erles and Barons also,
                        
                          And full riche yiftes they gaue him tho.
                          Line 1100 
                        
                          To Warrewik than he is fare: [Caius MS. 107 page 35] 
                        
                          The Erle Rohaude he fonde there,
                        
                          That faire vnderfonge him and his feere;
                        
                          For he was him bothe leef and dere.
                        
                          He kissed him full swetely
                          Line 1105 
                        
                          And of his present thanked him hertly.

Page 65

                        
                          To his lemman he is well-come,
                        
                          And him to kisse she maketh hir bowne.
                        
                          The Erle proferd him siluer and golde,
                        
                          And noothing therof take he wolde.
                          Line 1110 
                        
                          Full gladde is his fader of him
                        
                          And his moder and all his kynne,
                        
                          And all the folke of that Contree
                        
                          Were gladde him for to see.

                        
                          ON A DAYE he is to Felice goo,
                          Line 1115 
                        
                          And full louyngly he seith hir too:
                        
                          'I am come as thou may see.
                        
                          My lif y haue, lemman, thurgh thee:
                        
                          Ne were thou, lemman, dede y were,
                        
                          My body destroied and leide on bere.
                          Line 1120 
                        
                          Armes y toke for loue of the,
                        
                          Thoo thy wille thou tolde me,
                        
                          That, whan y had armes take,
                        
                          Thou woldest not than me for-sake.
                        
                          And thou hast herde me preised bee
                          Line 1125 
                        
                          In many astraunge contree:
                        
                          Thy loue shuld not me bee werned,
                        
                          For y haue it, me thinketh, ayerned.
                        
                          Sweting, nowe y am come to the,
                        
                          Thy wille therof thou telle me.'
                          Line 1130

                        
                          FELICE answerd swithe on highe, [Caius MS. 107 page 36] 
                        
                          And iaped not with sir Guye:
                        
                          'Yet art thou not preised so,
                        
                          Bot y kanne fynde suche other moo.
                        
                          Stronge thou art and of grete mighte,
                          Line 1135 
                        
                          Good and hardy and kene in fighte:
                        
                          And if y the had my loue yiue,
                        
                          And wille it the whiles y liue,
                        
                          Sleuthe wolde the so ouerecome,
                        
                          That thou woldest nomore armes doon,
                          Line 1140 
                        
                          Ne come in turnement nor in fighte.
                        
                          So amerous thou wolde bee anone righte.

Page 67

                        
                          I shuld misdoo, as thinketh me,
                        
                          And gretly offende ayenst the.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy,' quoth she, 'concele y nelle,
                        
                          Bot all the sothe y shall the telle:
                        
                          Thou art me leeuest of other alle,
                        
                          And my lemman y shall the calle;
                          Line 1150 
                        
                          Bot my loue thou shalt not haue
                        
                          For noo thing that thou kan craue,
                        
                          Vnto tyme thou so perilous holde bee
                        
                          And best doyng in euery Contree,
                        
                          That neither by londe nor by water
                          Line 1155 
                        
                          Bee founde in any wise thy better;
                        
                          And whan thou art holde best doynge
                        
                          In armes that man may fynde,
                        
                          That vnder heuen thy better ne bee,
                        
                          My loue than y shall graunte the,
                          Line 1160 
                        
                          For to doo with me thi wille
                        
                          Eerly and late, loude and stille.
                        
                          In other wise, how so it goo, [Caius MS. 107 page 37] 
                        
                          My loue ne shall thou haue ellis neuere the moo.'

                        
                          WHANNE Guy herde Felice speke so,
                          Line 1165 
                        
                          Full depe he ganne sighe tho:
                        
                          'Now wote y well, thou skornest me,
                        
                          Whan y suche answer haue of the,
                        
                          That y shuld the best bee in felde
                        
                          In fighting with spere and shelde;
                          Line 1170 
                        
                          And so good might y neuere worthe
                        
                          To bee the best vpon the erthe;
                        
                          And in-to straunge londe wende y shall,
                        
                          For thy loue to werke woo ouere all.
                        
                          For doubte of deth y woll not flee:
                          Line 1175 
                        
                          If y dye, it is for the.'
                        
                          Guy of hir toke his leeue on hie,
                        
                          And kissed hir with weping yie.

Page 69

                        
                          To his Inne he gooth, as y you telle,
                        
                          And there he doth not longe duelle.
                          Line 1180 
                        
                          To the Erle he gan goon
                        
                          To take of him his leeue anoon.
                        
                          Nowe is Guy to Courte come
                        
                          To take his leeue all and some.
                        
                          To the Erle Rohaude he yede thoo,
                          Line 1185 
                        
                          And tolde him what he wolde doo.
                        
                          'Sir Erle,' quoth Guy, 'y pray the,
                        
                          Leeue to wende that thou yiue me.
                        
                          God to good hauen me sende:
                        
                          Ouer the see y shall wende.
                          Line 1190 
                        
                          Tyme it is that y fonde
                        
                          To wynne pris in straunge londe;
                        
                          For all the gladder ye may bee [Caius MS. 107 page 38] 
                        
                          That men of armes doo preise me;
                        
                          For if ye haue folke of grete mighte,
                          Line 1195 
                        
                          It is to you worship, y you plighte;
                        
                          For the more men woll the doubte
                        
                          Within thy londe and withoute.'

                        
                          'SIR GUY,' quoth the Erle tho,
                        
                          'Failleth the aught that y may doo,
                          Line 1200 
                        
                          Golde or siluer or highe stede,
                        
                          To passe the see yf thou haue nede?
                        
                          Sir Guy, lete bee all this,
                        
                          And thou shalt haue all that nedefull is,
                        
                          To chase the herte and the hynde,
                          Line 1205 
                        
                          And to pley vnder the wode lynde:
                        
                          Of all thinge thou shalt haue plentee,
                        
                          And abide at home, y bidde the.
                        
                          We shull wende bothe in feere
                        
                          And pleye vs in wode and by Ryueer.
                          Line 1210 
                        
                          All by tymes thou may ouere wende:
                        
                          Thou hast not soiourned a moneth to the ende.'
                        
                          'Mikel thanke,' quoth Guy tho;
                        
                          'For sothe so may it not goo.'

Page 71

                        
                          His leeue he toke withoute more;
                          Line 1215 
                        
                          The erle it forthoughte full sore.
                        
                          He gooth him to his fader thoo,
                        
                          That for his goyng was full woo:
                        
                          'Fader,' quoth Guy, 'goo y wille:
                        
                          For noo thing y woll lette by skille;
                          Line 1220 
                        
                          Yiue me leeue, y woll not spare
                        
                          Ouer the See for to fare,
                        
                          To wynne pris and losse also, [Caius MS. 107 page 39] 
                        
                          As a yonge man in his youghte shuld doo.
                        
                          To abide longe in this contree
                          Line 1225 
                        
                          It is not worthe noo thing to me;
                        
                          For a yonge man that is mighti
                        
                          In his youthe shuld make bowne and redy,
                        
                          So that in age he may bee preised,
                        
                          And so to honour to bee arreised.
                          Line 1230 
                        
                          Whiles that y am yonge and lighte,
                        
                          My name y shall encrese by my mighte.'

                        
                          'LEEF SONE,' he seide, 'lete bee that thoughte:
                        
                          Yet shall thou wende noughte.
                        
                          Thou shalt abide here with me;
                          Line 1235 
                        
                          All the gladder y may bee.'
                        
                          'Leef sone,' his moder him seide,
                        
                          'Doo by thy faders rede:
                        
                          Abide with vs here to yere mo,
                        
                          I rede the, sone, thou so doo.
                          Line 1240 
                        
                          Another yere thou may ouere fare.
                        
                          And bot thou doo thus, y dye for care,
                        
                          For we ne haue sones moo:
                        
                          And yf we shuld nowe the forgoo,
                        
                          Gladde ne shuld we neuere bee,
                          Line 1245 
                        
                          Bot for sorowe oure self slee.'
                        
                          Guy answerd with that speche,
                        
                          'Fader, god y you beteche,
                        
                          And my moder y doo also;
                        
                          For hastely y woll goo.'

                          Line 1250

Page 73

                        
                          Line 1250 
                        
                          Guy gooth forth and theim lefte there,
                        
                          That for him in grete sorowe were.
                        
                          To the see he is come, [Caius MS. 107 page 40] 
                        
                          Good wynde he hath nome.
                        
                          Come he is in-to Normandye,
                          Line 1255 
                        
                          Knyghthode he secheth full hastily.
                        
                          Fro thense he wente him in-to Ispaigne
                        
                          And so fro thense in-to Almaigne.
                        
                          At euery turnement Guy hath bee,
                        
                          And moche preised ouere all is he.
                          Line 1260 
                        
                          Fro thense to lombardie he is wente:
                        
                          Ther were ioustes and turnemente,
                        
                          There they did him preise myche,
                        
                          The lombardes him loued in-liche;
                        
                          For he was curteys, large and free,
                          Line 1265 
                        
                          And of moche might and grete bountee.

                        
                          NOWE OF a straunge case y shall you telle,
                        
                          Ye that woll a while duelle,
                        
                          That Guy befell comyng fro a turnement
                        
                          That was withoute Boneuent:
                          Line 1270 
                        
                          In the body he wounded was:
                        
                          Sore it him greued, noo wonder nas.
                        
                          That aspied well the Duke Otoun,
                        
                          That was vntruste and feloun,
                        
                          That he wolde bee a-wreke that daie
                          Line 1275 
                        
                          On Guy of Warrewik, if he maye;
                        
                          For he him wounded at a tournement,
                        
                          As y before tolde verraiment;
                        
                          Therfor Guy was yet him lothe,
                        
                          And full depe he swore his othe
                          Line 1280 
                        
                          That he wolde on him wroken bee
                        
                          Or he wente oute of that contree.
                        
                          Whanne Duke Otes wiste that caas, [Caius MS. 107 page 41] 
                        
                          That Guy so sore wounded was,
                        
                          Than the Erle Lambard he clepid him to,
                          Line 1285 
                        
                          That good knyght was, and bade him goo

Page 75

                        
                          With .xv. knyghtes stalworthe,
                        
                          That euerich was his armes worthe.
                        
                          In a priue stede he did him hyde,
                        
                          Ther Guye of Warrewik shuld come ride.
                          Line 1290 
                        
                          'Lordinges,' seide the Duke Otoun,
                        
                          'Vnderstonde, sires, to my Reesoun:
                        
                          My men ye bee all to me swore,
                        
                          Holde ye shull with me therfore.
                        
                          Myn heste doo ye shall,
                          Line 1295 
                        
                          That y to you now telle woll.
                        
                          Me to awreke ye shull goo
                        
                          On a traytour that is my foo,
                        
                          That is come in-to my londe
                        
                          (Werre he me thinketh to werke with honde),
                          Line 1300 
                        
                          Guy of Warrewik that wounded is
                        
                          With a swerde thurgh the body ywis.
                        
                          On the halidome ye shull swere
                        
                          That in the forest that is full neere,
                        
                          There ye shull you all huyde:
                          Line 1305 
                        
                          As Guy of Warrewik shall come ride,
                        
                          His body on lyue ye shall me bringe,
                        
                          Slee his felawes olde and yinge.
                        
                          I shall him doo in my prison;
                        
                          Ne shall he neuere come to Raumpson.
                          Line 1310 
                        
                          With sorowe and woo he shall ende:
                        
                          Ne shall he neuere thense wende.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth they, 'we woll goo, [Caius MS. 107 page 42] 
                        
                          All thy commaundement for to doo.'
                        
                          They doo theim arme swithe wele
                          Line 1315 
                        
                          Bothe in yren and in stele.
                        
                          To their place they wende snelle,
                        
                          And houed there softe and stille,
                        
                          As Guy of Warrewik shuld come
                        
                          Not knowyng of that wicked treason,
                          Line 1320 
                        
                          Ne of the sorowe neuere the moo,
                        
                          That him was comyng to;

Page 77

                        
                          For all his felawes that good were,
                        
                          Euerychoon he loste than there,
                        
                          And his owne lif had forlore,
                          Line 1325 
                        
                          Ne were goddis helpe before,
                        
                          Thurgh the traitours that were his foon,
                        
                          That kepte him for to slee anoon.
                        
                          Now cometh Guy softe riding
                        
                          Vpon a litell mule ambling.
                          Line 1330 
                        
                          His wounde greued him full sore,
                        
                          And euere the lenger smerted the more.
                        
                          In pees he wened for to wende,
                        
                          As the traitours were redy him to shende.
                        
                          The helmes they sawe brighte shyne,
                          Line 1335 
                        
                          And anone after befelle theim pyne.

                        
                          'ALLAS,' QUOTH Guy, 'y am nome!
                        
                          All we been dede thurgh treasoune.'
                        
                          Guy of that Mule alighte,
                        
                          And on his stede lepte, and gan his armes righte,
                          Line 1340 
                        
                          And seide to his felawes all:
                        
                          'Full deere oure liffis we selle shall.
                        
                          Oure deth is here as nowe, y speke, [Caius MS. 107 page 43] 
                        
                          Bot we manly vs awreke.
                        
                          Eche helpe him self, nowe it thus is,
                          Line 1345 
                        
                          And y shall doo what y may ywis:
                        
                          As dere as y may, y wolle
                        
                          To the traitours lombardes my lif selle.'
                        
                          Than seide heraude thoo:
                        
                          'For goddis loue hense thou goo.
                          Line 1350 
                        
                          For thy loue we woll dye,
                        
                          Or defende this passage trulye.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than Guy answerd anone right,
                          Line 1355 
                        
                          As a good knyght of mikell might:
                        
                          'Yf ye deye, y shall also;
                        
                          I woll neuere fro you goo.'

Page 79

                        
                          WITH THAT come a Lombard ride,
                        
                          As a man of grete pride.
                          Line 1360 
                        
                          'Guy,' quoth he, 'yelde the anone,
                        
                          Or ye bee dede euerychone.
                        
                          To the Duke Otes y haue the plighte,
                        
                          Thy body to bringe him anone righte.'
                        
                          The Lombard was hote withoute lette,
                          Line 1365 
                        
                          And Guy him hath with harme grette;
                        
                          He ne spared for noo drede,
                        
                          That deed he felled him in the mede.
                        
                          'By the trouth,' quoth Guy, 'that y shall my lemman yelde,
                        
                          Thou shalt not thy trouth to the Duke holde.'
                          Line 1370 
                        
                          To another lombarde he smote anone,
                        
                          That thurgh the body his swerde gan goone:
                        
                          'Nor thou, traitour, thou ne shall me lede
                        
                          To thy Duke that is so full of quede,
                        
                          Nor to his prisoun for the bee broughte.' [Caius MS. 107 page 44] 
                          Line 1375 
                        
                          Heraude smote to another and spared noughte,
                        
                          That thurgh the swerde glode:
                        
                          Deed he felled him withoute bode.
                        
                          Than come Toraude, a good knyghte:
                        
                          Swithe good he was in fighte.
                          Line 1380 
                        
                          With a lombarde he so mette,
                        
                          And so well he his stroke besette,
                        
                          That the heed fro the body fleighe:
                        
                          He smote his shuldres alowe so neighe.
                        
                          With that come Vrry priking
                          Line 1385 
                        
                          (A better knyght might noman fynde),
                        
                          To a lombarde he smote so,
                        
                          That thurgh the body his swerde gan goo:
                        
                          So he smote him, the sothe to sey,
                        
                          That deed he felled him in the wey;
                          Line 1390 
                        
                          And than he seide: 'thou ne Otoun
                        
                          Ne shall vs bringe in-to your prison.'
                        
                          There might men see fighte begynne,
                        
                          Hedes clouen downe to the chynne.

Page 81

                        
                          All that Guy with his swerde toke,
                          Line 1395 
                        
                          Sone anone his lif forsoke.
                        
                          Some he smote vpon the hode,
                        
                          That at the girdelstede the swerde abode;
                        
                          Some he smote thurgh the side,
                        
                          That they ne might neuere more goo nor ryde.
                          Line 1400 
                        
                          Was there noon that might stonde
                        
                          The dynte that come oute of his honde.
                        
                          So mighti strokes ther were yiue,
                        
                          That the stronge shaftes all to-dryue.
                        
                          There was noon in that stede [Caius MS. 107 page 45] 
                          Line 1405 
                        
                          Bot of his lif he was adredde.
                        
                          With that come ride the Erle Lambard,
                        
                          A sterne knyght and a Lombard;
                        
                          Vrry he hath sleyne there,
                        
                          That forthoughte Guy whan he therof was ware:
                          Line 1410 
                        
                          With the Erle lambard he did iousty,
                        
                          To awreke the deth of good Vrry.
                        
                          With suche an hete he smote him to,
                        
                          That all his armes auailled him not a sloo;
                        
                          Thurgh his herte the launce he bare,
                          Line 1415 
                        
                          And adown he felled him dede there.
                        
                          With that cometh forth hugon,
                        
                          He was the Dukes Nieue Otoun:
                        
                          Knyght he was of grete mighte,
                        
                          Swithe hardy and good in fighte.
                          Line 1420 
                        
                          Toraude there he hath felled,
                        
                          And to deth stiked him thurgh his sheelde.
                        
                          And whan heraude saw that cas,
                        
                          That Toraulde so foule sleyne was,
                        
                          For his deth he was sorye:
                          Line 1425 
                        
                          Him to awreke he doth him hye.
                        
                          Neuere so sory he was,
                        
                          Toward hugon he made a chas.
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 83

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thurgh the body he him smote
                        
                          With so grete strength, god it wote,
                        
                          That there before the Lombardes all
                        
                          Of his hors he did him dede fall.
                        
                          Whan Danz Gauter that sighe
                          Line 1435 
                        
                          (A knyght he was of herte highe),
                        
                          Ouere thwert he smote to Heraude so [Caius MS. 107 page 46] 
                        
                          That all his hauberk he rende thoo;
                        
                          Thurgh heraudes body the swerde yede,
                        
                          All they wende he had bee dede.
                          Line 1440 
                        
                          Whan Guy sawe heraude felde,
                        
                          To-hewe his hauberk and his shelde
                        
                          (And of his hors felled he was
                        
                          As a dede man vpon the gras),
                        
                          And sawe the blode that ranne him fro,
                          Line 1445 
                        
                          Wonder he thoughte, and seide thoo:
                        
                          'Thou lordyng, to the y seye,
                        
                          His deth thou shalt full dere abeye!
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And by him that made sone and mone,
                        
                          Thou shalt wite swithe sone
                        
                          That thou shalt it forgete nought
                          Line 1455 
                        
                          That thou him hast to deth brought.'
                        
                          Guy with spores smote his stede,
                        
                          As a man that had grete nede.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than with all his mighte he smote him to,
                        
                          Full euen he karffe his herte in two.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And ther in grene he felled him downe,
                          Line 1465 
                        
                          And bade him Cristes malesoune,

Page 85

                        
                          For that he did heraude slee,
                        
                          And lete him on lyue bee.

                        
                          NOWE IS Guy full harde befalle,
                        
                          Loste he hath his felawes alle;
                          Line 1470 
                        
                          So sory he is, he ne wote what to doo,
                        
                          And he woteth to whom he may bemene hym to.
                        
                          Bot three of the Lombardes on lyue ther were,
                        
                          That vpon Guy thoughte grete deere.
                        
                          Tweyn of theim were hoole and sounde, [Caius MS. 107 page 47] 
                          Line 1475 
                        
                          The thridde thurgh the body had a wounde.
                        
                          Guy with his swerde that oon raughte,
                        
                          That his hede fleighe of with a draughte.
                        
                          With that come priking Dan Guychard,
                        
                          He was a full proude Lombarde.
                          Line 1480 
                        
                          'Guy,' he seide, 'yelde the to me!
                        
                          Thou seest it woll noon other bee.
                        
                          All thy men fro the been refte:
                        
                          Sauf thy self is noon lefte,
                        
                          And thyn helme is all to-hewe,
                          Line 1485 
                        
                          Thyn hauberk to-tore that was newe;
                        
                          Wounded thou art, well y see,
                        
                          That longe thou maist not alyue bee.
                        
                          This daie y shall the bringe to Duke Otoun,
                        
                          And he the shall doo in his prisoun.'
                          Line 1490 
                        
                          Than seide Guy, 'Guychard, y nelle
                        
                          Yelde me to Otes by my wille,
                        
                          While y haue my swerde grounde
                        
                          And my body stiffe to sitte astounde.'
                        
                          Guychard smote Guy with grete mighte
                          Line 1495 
                        
                          Vpon his helme that shone brighte,
                        
                          That a quarter awey fleighe;
                        
                          The knyght was stronge, hardy, and sleighe.
                        
                          Vpon the shoulder the swerde glode,
                        
                          Of the hauberk he toke an handbrode;
                          Line 1500 
                        
                          God saued Guy that he was not dede,
                        
                          Ne for that stroke had noo quede.

Page 87

                        
                          To Guychard he fondeth to smyte,
                        
                          And his swerde woll aughte byte.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To him he striketh swithe smerte [Caius MS. 107 page 48] 
                        
                          Thurgh the body well nyghe the herte:
                        
                          That good swerde in he thurste,
                        
                          Guychard to abide noo lenger had luste,
                          Line 1510 
                        
                          Bot tourned his hors and gan to flee,
                        
                          And Guy after him faste rode he.
                        
                          Good was that hors that Guychard rode on,
                        
                          Guy wente ayene and lete him goon:
                        
                          For that he ne might him ouere-take,
                          Line 1515 
                        
                          Full grete sorowe Guy gan make.

                        
                          GUYCHARD fleying toke his wey
                        
                          Toward Pauy, as swithe as he may.
                        
                          The Duke Otes fro huntyng come,
                        
                          And with him Barons and knyghtis many oone.
                          Line 1520 
                        
                          A knyght he sawe come priking
                        
                          With armes rende, his woundes bledyng.
                        
                          The Duke Otes duelled athrowe,
                        
                          Tyll Guychard he might knowe:
                        
                          Him thoughte he semed a man aferde,
                          Line 1525 
                        
                          Or that harde tidynges had herde.
                        
                          With that is Guychard to theim come;
                        
                          The Duke him asked full sone,
                        
                          'Sey, Guychard, who hath wrathed the?
                        
                          Where hast thou in bataille bee?
                          Line 1530 
                        
                          Where is Guy? is he nome?
                        
                          Quykke or dede lete him to me come.'
                        
                          'I shall you telle sikirly
                        
                          As moche as y wote of Guy:
                        
                          At a Forde we him mette,
                          Line 1535 
                        
                          And strongly we him besette,
                        
                          And his body ne toke we nought: [Caius MS. 107 page 49] 
                        
                          All we been to deth brought;

Page 89

                        
                          Bot y am eskaped as ye may see.'
                        
                          'My Nieueu hugon, where is he?'
                          Line 1540 
                        
                          Quoth the Duke Otes, 'telle thou me.'
                        
                          'In the playne he lieth sleyn pardee.'
                        
                          'And the Erle Lambard, the good knyght?'
                        
                          'Deed he lieth in that fighte.'

                        
                          WHANNE the Duke Otes herde that,
                          Line 1545 
                        
                          Full sory he was for that myshap,
                        
                          For his folke were so sleyne,
                        
                          And thurgh Guy broughte fro lif to peyne.
                        
                          For sorowe he waxe all-moste wode,
                        
                          His herte to-berste well nyghe for mode.
                          Line 1550 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

                        
                          NOWE GUY maketh sorowe pitously,
                        
                          And for his felawes wepeth gretly.
                        
                          'Allas,' quoth Guy, 'felawes dere,
                          Line 1555 
                        
                          So well doyng knyghtis as ye were.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          For thy loue, Felice, faire may,
                        
                          Floure of knyghtis is sleyn this day.
                          Line 1560 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Nowe all other may by me,
                          Line 1565 
                        
                          Yf they woll, warned bee.
                        
                          Allas, heraude, my dere frende,
                        
                          That were so curteys and so hende,
                        
                          Who shall me helpe now in fighte?
                        
                          In the worlde nas a better knyghte.
                          Line 1570 
                        
                          In euery place full well thou holpe me,
                        
                          Euyl y haue it acquytte the;
                        
                          For me thou hast thy lif forgoon,
                        
                          Of the nomore helpe shall y haue noon.

Page 91

                        
                          A-cursed bee thise Lombardes echoone, [Caius MS. 107 page 50] 
                        
                          That slowe the, and lete me goone.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          What for his woundes that greuously bledeth,
                          Line 1595 
                        
                          And what for sorowe that he fredeth,
                        
                          Thus for sorowe and for woo
                        
                          Adowne he felle in swounyng thoo.
                        
                          Whan he of his swounyng was awaked,
                        
                          Vp he stode, his sorowe not slaked.
                          Line 1600 
                        
                          Than he worthe vpon his stede,
                        
                          And to an hermytage he gan him spede.
                        
                          'Heremyte,' quoth Guy, 'come with me,
                        
                          And this hors of pris y yiue to the.
                        
                          Twoo bodies thou shalt in erthe graue,
                          Line 1605 
                        
                          That in this forest their dethes haue.'
                        
                          'Blithely, sir,' seide than he;
                        
                          'Wende forthe, y shall folowe the.'
                        
                          Than the bodies him shewed Guy
                        
                          Of Toraulde and of good Vrry.

                          Line 1610

Page 93

                        
                          Line 1610 
                        
                          Sithe he toke another stede,
                        
                          And Heraude with him he dooth lede,
                        
                          And rode him forthe all softely:
                        
                          For him he wepeth full hertly,
                        
                          For he wende in sothe there
                          Line 1615 
                        
                          That heraude to deth wounded were.

                        
                          NOWE IS Guy forthe fare,
                        
                          And for his felawes maketh grete kare.
                        
                          Heraudes body with him he dooth bere
                        
                          Forto burye it ellis-where.
                          Line 1620 
                        
                          He wente him to an Abbey
                        
                          That was ther beside the highe wey.
                        
                          The Abbot Guy there he mette, [Caius MS. 107 page 51] 
                        
                          And full pitously he him grette:
                        
                          'Sir Abbot,' he seide, 'god the blisse
                          Line 1625 
                        
                          That man made for his owne, ywis:
                        
                          All for loue of the Trynyte
                        
                          I the beseche, for sainte Charite,
                        
                          That thou this body here, loo,
                        
                          In a faire buriel thou hit doo.
                          Line 1630 
                        
                          Full well y shall it yelde the,
                        
                          And yf y any while lyuyng bee.'
                        
                          'What art thou?' quoth the Abbot, 'telle me.'
                        
                          'Blithely, sir: y sey the,
                        
                          I am a knyght of farre Contree;
                          Line 1635 
                        
                          At a passage assailled were we
                        
                          Of stronge theeffis and outelawes,
                        
                          That my felawes haue broughte to dethis dawes;
                        
                          And y meself haue many a wounde,
                        
                          That y wene y shall lyue noo stounde;
                          Line 1640 
                        
                          And if y lyue, y shall yelde it the,
                        
                          The trauaille that thou doost for me.'
                        
                          To Guy answerd the Abbot tho:
                        
                          'All thy wille, sir, shalbee doo.'
                        
                          Nowe gooth Guy sore dismaide,
                          Line 1645 
                        
                          His woundes haue him sore affraide.

Page 95

                        
                          To an heremyte he is goo,
                        
                          That he was acqueynted with or thoo;
                        
                          His woundes hele there he dedde
                        
                          Withoute noyse in that stede;
                          Line 1650 
                        
                          For moche he dredde the Duke Otoun,
                        
                          Full of hatrede and of treasoun.

                        
                          NOWE THE Abbot of wom y you telle, [Caius MS. 107 page 52] 
                        
                          Of heraude hath grete reuthe with-all;
                        
                          He lete bere his bodye
                          Line 1655 
                        
                          In-to a Chambre to vnarme lightly;
                        
                          And whan they had vnarmed him
                        
                          A monke behelde euery lymme.
                        
                          The same monke a phisician was,
                        
                          The mighte he knewe of many a gras.
                          Line 1660 
                        
                          The woundes he behelde stedefastly,
                        
                          That in the body were so grisely.
                        
                          By the woundes he sawe ywis
                        
                          That he to deth ne wounded is,
                        
                          And that [he] him hele might;
                          Line 1665 
                        
                          And so he dooth sothely aplight.
                        
                          In the meane tyme, ye may me leue,
                        
                          Guy was heled and toke his leue
                        
                          Of the good heremyte and wente his wey
                        
                          Toward Poyle right as he may.
                          Line 1670 
                        
                          To the king of Poyle he was welcome,
                        
                          And that he knewe full sone.
                        
                          Of siluer he bade him and of golde,
                        
                          And Guy therof nought take wolde.
                        
                          At euery place in turnement
                          Line 1675 
                        
                          Guy had the pris verament.
                        
                          Was ther noon in all the londe,
                        
                          That Guyes dyntes might withstonde.
                        
                          Therfor men loued him swithe,
                        
                          And vnderfange him full blithe;
                          Line 1680 
                        
                          With all good men he was leef and dere,
                        
                          And therwith-all their pleyfere.

Page 97

                        
                          At the king he toke his leeue thoo; [Caius MS. 107 page 53] 
                        
                          In-to Cessoigne he is goo.
                        
                          He is come to the Duke Reyner,
                          Line 1685 
                        
                          That him loued and had full deer;
                        
                          And he him fange full worshipfully,
                        
                          And did him honour full manly.
                        
                          So longe in the Contree ther his duelling is,
                        
                          That ouere all other he bereth the pris.
                          Line 1690 
                        
                          Guy him bethoughte thoo
                        
                          That he had enough ther doo:
                        
                          To Englonde he thoughte to wende,
                        
                          For to speke with his frende;
                        
                          For it was agoo .v. yere
                          Line 1695 
                        
                          That he was laste there;
                        
                          In lasse stounde than that was
                        
                          Befalleth many a wonder cas.
                        
                          Thurgh the contrees as he hath wente,
                        
                          Quenes and Contasses for him hath sente,
                          Line 1700 
                        
                          And noon he wolde sikirly
                        
                          Bot Felice that he loued so hertly.
                        
                          What for his mikell goodnesse,
                        
                          And for his might and large prowesse,
                        
                          Ther nys knyght that so moche preised bee
                          Line 1705 
                        
                          Anone to Antioche, that good Citee.
                        
                          Guy him spedde nyghte and daie,
                        
                          Toward Englond he toke his weye.

                        
                          OFF GUY y shall leue nowe,
                        
                          And a litell while telle yow
                          Line 1710 
                        
                          Of heraude another stounde,
                        
                          How he was heled of his wounde.
                        
                          Whanne he felte him-self hooll and quarte, [Caius MS. 107 page 54] 
                        
                          Of the Abbot he toke his leeue and did departe;
                        
                          His lorde Guy he gooth seching
                          Line 1715 
                        
                          Nighte and daye for him bidding,
                        
                          As Guy toward Englond toke his wey:
                        
                          Crist him saue that best may!

Page 99

                        
                          At a pynacle of the see
                        
                          He sawe a man sitte of ruly blee
                          Line 1720 
                        
                          In a pouere pilgrymes wede,
                        
                          And that was heraude veraily in-dede.
                        
                          Anone Guy cleped to him,
                        
                          And seide, 'of whens art thou, pilgrym?'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seide, 'fro Lombardie.'
                          Line 1725 
                        
                          'What tydingis there?' quoth sir Guye.
                        
                          'By god,' quoth heraude, 'y kan noone;
                        
                          For many a daie it is goone
                        
                          That y loste my kynde lorde
                        
                          That good knyght was, at a worde.
                          Line 1730 
                        
                          Betraye vs did the Duke Otoun:
                        
                          Haue he cristis malison!
                        
                          Therfor in this wise y shall goo,
                        
                          And bidde for my lorde euere moo.'
                        
                          'Sey me, pilgrym,' quoth Guy, 'truly,
                          Line 1735 
                        
                          What height that man that thou loued so hertly?'
                        
                          'Guy of Warrewik was his name:
                        
                          A knyght he was withoute blame.'
                        
                          With that he gan sighe sore:
                        
                          He wepte and seide 'allas' euermore;
                          Line 1740 
                        
                          He might it noo lenger kepe in holde.
                        
                          Guy full ruly he gan him beholde.
                        
                          'Good man,' quoth Guy, 'for thy leaute, [Caius MS. 107 page 55] 
                        
                          What is thy name? telle thou me.'
                        
                          'Heraude of Ardern men clepe me
                          Line 1745 
                        
                          In contrees there as y haue bee.
                        
                          .V. yere y haue thus goo
                        
                          Seching my lorde Guy that y loued so.'
                        
                          Whan Guy herde heraude so speke,
                        
                          Of his teres he gan downe reke.
                          Line 1750 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 101

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Allas, heraude, maister myn!
                          Line 1755 
                        
                          Knowest not Guy, a felawe of thyn?'
                        
                          'Certes,' quoth heraude, 'sir, nay:
                        
                          Dede he was goon many a day.'
                        
                          And he answerd, 'y am Guy.'
                        
                          'A, sir,' quoth heraude, 'mercy.'
                          Line 1760 
                        
                          As sone as heraude vnderstode
                        
                          That he was Guy, the knyght goode,
                        
                          In swowe he felle adowne anone,
                        
                          And Guy in his armes him toke full sone.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Adowne they sette theim bothe there,
                        
                          And tolde eche other of their kare.
                          Line 1770 
                        
                          Sir Guy hath heraude telde
                        
                          How he him bare oute of the felde,
                        
                          For to burye him at an Abbey
                        
                          That was there beside the highe wey.
                        
                          And than heraude he him teelde
                          Line 1775 
                        
                          How his woundes were heled,
                        
                          And thurgh how many londes he had goo
                        
                          Seching his lorde Guy with sorowe and woo.

                        
                          THEIR HORS they toke after this,
                        
                          And rode to the next Citee ywis;
                          Line 1780 
                        
                          There did Guy Heraude in herbes bathy, [Caius MS. 107 page 56] 
                        
                          And with good metes him comforte hertly.
                        
                          Fro thens they wente to the Duke Mylone,
                        
                          To whom they bothe were welcome.
                        
                          Of their auentures they tolde there,
                          Line 1785 
                        
                          And thanked good in many maner.
                        
                          At the Duke they toke their leeue thoo,
                        
                          Toward Englond they gan goo.

Page 103

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To seynt Omers is Guy come,
                          Line 1795 
                        
                          And heraude with him all and some.
                        
                          Towarde the see they take their wey,
                        
                          As swithe as the hors theim bere may.
                        
                          Whan they to the Town were come,
                        
                          Their Inne they take full sone.
                          Line 1800 
                        
                          To a wyndowe is Guy goo,
                        
                          Into the strete he behelde thoo;
                        
                          A palmer he sawe comyng,
                        
                          Easely by the wey goyng.
                        
                          To him than cleped Guy,
                          Line 1805 
                        
                          And curteisly he gan him asky,
                        
                          'Woll thou herburgh? for it is nyghte;
                        
                          For fa[r]t[h]er thou ne goo myghte.'
                        
                          The palmer answerd to Guy,
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth he, 'grauntmercy.'
                          Line 1810 
                        
                          To sitte downe Guy gaue him leeue,
                        
                          Farther he ne might, it was nyghe eeue.
                        
                          Than he praide him he wolde him sey
                        
                          Some tidingis, yf he kouthe, of the Contrey,
                        
                          Yf he herde nyghe or farre
                          Line 1815 
                        
                          Speke of bataille or of werre.
                        
                          'I shall telle,' quoth he, 'fote hote [Caius MS. 107 page 57] 
                        
                          Of grete werre that y wote:
                        
                          Of a strenger y haue not herde;
                        
                          Therof is many a man ferde.'
                          Line 1820 
                        
                          Guy him seide, 'telle it me.'
                        
                          'Forsothe y graunte,' seide he.
                        
                          'Of Almaigne the Emperour,
                        
                          Reyner, that is of grete honour,
                        
                          The Duke of Louaigne hath bee-sette,
                          Line 1825 
                        
                          His Castellis destroied withoute lette;

Page 105

                        
                          For his Neuyeu that he slowe,
                        
                          He hath wroughte him moche woo nowe.
                        
                          All-moste a yere it is goo,
                        
                          At a turnement that is doo,
                          Line 1830 
                        
                          The Duke Segwyn was ther thoo,
                        
                          That all louaigne belongeth vnto,
                        
                          With all the knyghtes of his londe
                        
                          That thider come their might to fonde.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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Page 107

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan the Emperour herde that cas,
                        
                          That his neuyeu so slayne was,
                          Line 1890 
                        
                          Ouer all his londe he bade his hooste
                        
                          To come to him for his socour moste;
                        
                          And whan they all assembled were
                        
                          The Duke of Louaigne he besegeth there:
                        
                          He ne woll thense goone,
                          Line 1895 
                        
                          Till the Duke bee dede or noome.'

WHANNE the pilgrym had all telde, Guy him herkened and well behelde.

Page 109

                        
                          He bethoughte than full yerne, [Caius MS. 107 page 58] 
                        
                          Yf he might goo forthe or ayene tourne.
                          Line 1900 
                        
                          Than seide he to Heraude, 'what rede ye?
                        
                          Good counsaille, sir, y pray the,
                        
                          Yf we in oure wey forthe goo,
                        
                          Or to the Duke wende and socour him doo.
                        
                          What thou me redest y doo shall;
                          Line 1905 
                        
                          Thy counsaille y woll not forsake at all.'
                        
                          Than seide heraude y-wis,
                        
                          'I yiue the counsaille that good is;
                        
                          Him to helpe ye shall the better spede,
                        
                          And also therfor haue grete mede:
                          Line 1910 
                        
                          A good name and pris thou may ther wynne,
                        
                          And worship to the and all thy kynne.'
                        
                          'Sir heraude,' quoth Guy the good,
                        
                          'That lorde that deide on the Rood
                        
                          Blisse nowe and saue the,
                          Line 1915 
                        
                          For good counsaille thou yiuest me.'
                        
                          Guy him thanked and made him yare
                        
                          Streighte to Louaigne for to fare,
                        
                          And with him other fifty knyghtes,
                        
                          The beste that might bee in any fightes.
                          Line 1920 
                        
                          Come they bee right to raumpsome,
                        
                          To the Duke they bee full welcome.
                        
                          In the Citee they haue their Innes take;
                        
                          Gladde were many for their sake.
                        
                          Guy on the morowe aroosse thoo,
                          Line 1925 
                        
                          Right to Chirche he is goo.
                        
                          Masse and matyns he herde there
                        
                          And after to his Inne did fare.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy to his hooste than seide, [Caius MS. 107 page 59] 
                        
                          'What is all this? thou me rede.
                        
                          Bele hooste, sey thou me,
                        
                          What may all this doyng bee?'

Page 111

                        
                          'I shall the telle,' seide he,
                          Line 1935 
                        
                          'And noo worde concele fro the;
                        
                          This is the Emperours stywarde,
                        
                          That good knyght is and noo cowarde
                        
                          (Fro hense to Ispaigne his better nys),
                        
                          And with him grete companye ywis,
                          Line 1940 
                        
                          An hondred of knyghtes stronge,
                        
                          That noon better wepon doo fonge.
                        
                          All this Citee they haue besette:
                        
                          It to destroye they woll not lette,
                        
                          Nor noo man eskape or nome
                          Line 1945 
                        
                          Or sleyne certaine full sone.

                        
                          THANNE seide Guy, 'Lordingis and knyghtis,
                        
                          Ayenst theim lete we dresse vs.'
                        
                          Anone they haue theim in wey doon.
                        
                          The Styward sawe theim anoon:
                          Line 1950 
                        
                          Thiderwardes he him dighte,
                        
                          As a knyghte of grete mighte.
                        
                          His armes faste he gan arraye,
                        
                          For formest Guy he thought assaye.
                        
                          To-geder anone they gan smyte,
                          Line 1955 
                        
                          Eche spared other bot alyte.
                        
                          Guy first to him smote,
                        
                          That of his stede he felled him, god it wote,
                        
                          And thanne he smote him with a swerde brown, [Caius MS. 107 page 60] 
                        
                          That a quarter of his helme he felled down.
                          Line 1960 
                        
                          So thurgh grete strength ther he [is] nome,
                        
                          And by treuthe his plighte man is become.
                        
                          Whan the Almaignes that seye
                        
                          That stronge were and in fighte full sleye,
                        
                          That their lorde was take in that fighte,
                          Line 1965 
                        
                          And prikke awey with all their mighte.
                        
                          There was perced many a shelde,
                        
                          Or they were past all the felde.
                        
                          Than Guy ayene wente full sone,
                        
                          And his felawes with him echone.

                          Line 1970

Page 113

                        
                          Line 1970 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The Almaignes they haue ouere-come,
                        
                          Some sleyne and some nome.
                          Line 1990 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          There Guy and his felawes in that stede
                        
                          All their prisouners with theim lede.
                        
                          To the Citee they wente anoon,
                          Line 1995 
                        
                          Eche to his Inne forth is goon.
                        
                          Proude they were all and some
                        
                          That the Almaignes been ouere-come.
                        
                          Whan the Duke herde that tydinge,
                        
                          For ioye his herte gan to springe,
                          Line 2000 
                        
                          That Guy of Warrewik was come,
                        
                          And the Styward had so nome.
                        
                          On a good stede he lepe anone,
                        
                          And to Guyes Inne he is goone.
                        
                          'Guy,' he seide, 'thou art welcome,
                          Line 2005 
                        
                          As in the worlde of all christen men

Page 115

                        
                          Ouer all other y haue desired the:
                          Line 1905 
                        
                          God thanked mote he bee
                        
                          That thou art to me come, [Caius MS. 107 page 61] 
                        
                          For nowe y drede nooman.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Lorde and sire y make the
                          Line 1911 
                        
                          Of my toure and of my Citee,
                        
                          My castellis and my londe therto eke;
                        
                          And henseforeward y the beseke
                        
                          That the lordship thou haue also,
                          Line 1915 
                        
                          And all thy wille therwith doo;
                        
                          For by thy counsaille y woll doon,
                        
                          For to greue my dedely foon.'
                        
                          Full curteisly than answerd Guy
                        
                          And seide, 'sir duke, graunt mercy.
                          Line 1920 
                        
                          With my mighte y shall helpe the
                        
                          In euery stede where that y bee.'
                        
                          Than the Styward he behelde swithe,
                        
                          Of whom he was full gladde and blithe;
                        
                          Thurgh him he hopeth accorded bee
                          Line 1925 
                        
                          With the Emperour, his lorde free.
                        
                          Betwene theim two they teld the tale:
                        
                          Now yiue vs drinke wyne or ale.

                        
                          NOWE sendeth Guy his sonde aboute
                        
                          After good men withoute doubte
                          Line 1930 
                        
                          In-to Contrees that he hath thurgh-wente.
                        
                          Grete multitude he hath for-sente,
                        
                          Of knyghtes and barouns bolde
                        
                          The beste that wepon in hande may holde.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The Castellis and the townes that loste were,
                          Line 1937 
                        
                          The duke wanne ayene in that yere
                        
                          Thurgh Guyes helpe in that stede
                        
                          With his felawes that helped well at nede,

Page 117

                        
                          By him and his counsaille also [Caius MS. 107 page 62] 
                        
                          Fro thense foreward woll him trouthe doo.

                        
                          WHANNE the Emperour herde this,
                        
                          That Guy of Warrewik with the duke is,
                        
                          And that he hath his men ouerecome,
                          Line 1945 
                        
                          His men sleyn and the Styward nome,
                        
                          Wrothe and sory he was therfore,
                        
                          That he his men so hath lore.
                        
                          To his barons than he seide:
                        
                          'How shall we doo, and what is your rede?
                          Line 1950 
                        
                          I shall neuere bee gladde nor blithe,
                        
                          Bot it bee awreke right swithe
                        
                          Of Segwyn and of Guy also,
                        
                          That my folke haue brought in woo;'
                        
                          And commaunded his dukes and barons all
                          Line 1955 
                        
                          To bee redy in armes at euery call.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 119

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth they, 'we woll goo
                          Line 1981 
                        
                          All thyn heste for to doo.'
                        
                          So they haue their w[ey] nome,
                        
                          And to Ransone they bee come.
                        
                          Whan they of the Citee wiste them there,
                          Line 1985 
                        
                          Ayenst theim they dressed in their gere:
                        
                          Hastely to armes they bee goo,
                        
                          Knyghtis and squiers bothe twoo;
                        
                          And whan they were all redy
                        
                          And well dighte on either party,
                          Line 1990 
                        
                          The duke cleped heraude him to
                        
                          And swetely to him seide tho:
                        
                          'Sir heraude, thou shalt fonge
                        
                          Foure hundred of knyghtis good and stronge
                        
                          (Thou shalt yiue the first assaute [Caius MS. 107 page 63] 
                          Line 1995 
                        
                          Vpon the Almaignes, sir heraude);
                        
                          And thou, sir Guy, an hundred to the
                        
                          Of all my londe the best that bee,
                        
                          And if heraude haue nede,
                        
                          Him to helpe fast thou spede;
                          Line 2000 
                        
                          And y shall come withoute delaie
                        
                          With all the strength that y maye:
                        
                          To-geder with theim we woll fighte
                        
                          And theim ouere-come with goddis mighte.'
                        
                          And as they seide so haue they doon,
                          Line 2005 
                        
                          And doo theim assaille right anoon.
                        
                          Heraude him gooth first to assaily,
                        
                          That fighte for to meyntayny.
                        
                          Of the duke Otes heraude is vndernome
                        
                          In the vawarde, as it is aboute come.
                          Line 2010 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 121

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Heraude to him seide: 'thou Otes of Pauye,
                        
                          Vnderstondest not of that felonye
                        
                          That thou in lombardie didest,
                          Line 2015 
                        
                          Whan thou my lorde and me betraidest?
                        
                          A-wreke we shull therof now bee,
                        
                          Yf god woll, or the sonne couere hir blee.'
                        
                          Otes answerd: 'thou liest on me,
                        
                          And that y shall preoue on the.'
                          Line 2020 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To-geder they smyte with good wille,
                        
                          That bothe of their hors they felle.
                        
                          Than they drawe their swerdes kene,
                          Line 2025 
                        
                          And hewe to-geder sharply, y wene.
                        
                          The duke him tempteth mightly,
                        
                          And heraude him assailleth strongely:
                        
                          Thurgh the feelde he gooth him dryuyng. [Caius MS. 107 page 64] 
                        
                          With that cometh his folke priking,
                          Line 2030 
                        
                          That their lorde reskewe there,
                        
                          And heraude to take they angry were:
                        
                          Bot heraude vpon him werred strongly.
                        
                          With that cometh his folke hastely:
                        
                          With strength they bee forthe goo,
                          Line 2035 
                        
                          And heraude they broughte on hors thoo.
                        
                          Than gan they to-geder smyte:
                        
                          Noon spared other bot a lite.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The duke Otes had sorowe gretly,
                        
                          Whan he sawe his folke sleyn so greuously,
                        
                          And seide to his felawes thoo:
                          Line 2045 
                        
                          'Lordinges, what shall we nowe doo?
                        
                          See ye not here a man, by name,
                        
                          That me dooth harme and moche shame,

Page 123

                        
                          That hath nyghe sleyne all my men,
                        
                          Youre frendes and your kynnesmen?
                          Line 2050 
                        
                          Bot ye on him some wreke doo,
                        
                          I shall you neuere loue moo.'
                        
                          With that they assembled echoon,
                        
                          And to heraude they smyte anoon.
                        
                          There is heraude mysse bee-falle:
                          Line 2055 
                        
                          Loste he hath his men alle,
                        
                          And recouere he shall sone this;
                        
                          For grete socour him cometh ywis.
                        
                          Heraude they dryue strongely,
                        
                          And he werred on him hardily.
                          Line 2060 
                        
                          Whan Guy sawe heraude comyng,
                        
                          Oute of that stronge fighte fleyng,
                        
                          His helme to-dasshed in stedes moo, [Caius MS. 107 page 65] 
                        
                          His sheelde to-hewen all-moste in twoo
                        
                          (And his hors wounded sawe he:
                          Line 2065 
                        
                          In stronge fighte he had bee):
                        
                          With loude steuene than he yede
                        
                          To the Duke and made assaute full quede.
                        
                          He rescowed heraude in the felde,
                        
                          And the other they toke and helde.
                          Line 2070 
                        
                          Whan Otes sawe sir Guyon
                        
                          Come rennyng to him as a lyoun,
                        
                          With highe voice he gan vpbreide,
                        
                          And to the Duke Otes thus he seide:
                        
                          'Thou false and disceyuable traitour,
                          Line 2075 
                        
                          Full litell thou thoughte on thyn honour,
                        
                          Whanne thow bee-traidest me,
                        
                          And dud my men with sorowe slee
                        
                          In the forest of playnes, as y forthe come
                        
                          With my felawes, good knyghtes echoone.
                          Line 2080 
                        
                          Fro hense forewarde, y telle the,
                        
                          Thy dedely foo y shalbee.
                        
                          In good poynte to bee y am not like,
                        
                          Tille y haue thyn hede of strike.'

Page 125

                        
                          With that either of theim pricked his stede,
                          Line 2085 
                        
                          And in grete wrathe to-gider yede.
                        
                          Otes smote Guy in the sheelde,
                        
                          That euen half flowe in the felde,
                        
                          And Guy gaue Otes a wounde:
                        
                          Thurgh his theighe he thruste his swerde grounde,
                          Line 2090 
                        
                          And his hede he had him benome,
                        
                          Had not grete socour to him the rather come.
                        
                          Two hundred knyghtes assailled Guy, [Caius MS. 107 page 66] 
                        
                          And him wolde haue sleyn wilfully,
                        
                          And he him defended as a man:
                          Line 2095 
                        
                          All that he smote woo theim beecam.
                        
                          There they haue their lorde redde,
                        
                          And all wounded oute of the place ledde.
                        
                          Guy the Almaignes before him wreketh:
                        
                          Many he taketh, and many he sleeth.
                          Line 2100 
                        
                          Guy theim driueth, and fast they flee,
                        
                          As folke that greuously ouerecome bee.

                        
                          WITH THAT come the Duke Reyner,
                        
                          And the Constable sir Gaudemer:
                        
                          In a slade they metten Guy,
                          Line 2105 
                        
                          And strongly on him sette they;
                        
                          And Guy him drowe toward the Roume,
                        
                          And all his felawes that with him come;
                        
                          For ther were a thousand knyghtes
                        
                          With theim to mete anone Rightes.
                          Line 2110 
                        
                          'Lordinges,' quoth Guy, 'herken to me:
                        
                          Thise knyghtis bee comyng as ye may see,
                        
                          The Duke Reyner of Cessoigne
                        
                          And the Duke Gaudemer of Coloigne.
                        
                          In euery side we bee-sette bee,
                          Line 2115 
                        
                          So that we may not hense flee;
                        
                          And though we might y nelle;
                        
                          For forsothe, y shall you telle,
                        
                          Better it is to dye manly
                        
                          Than to flee with shame and vilanye.'

                          Line 2120

Page 127

                        
                          Line 2120 
                        
                          All they answerd in that stede, [Caius MS. 107 page 67] 
                        
                          'With the we woll abide veraily in dede.'
                        
                          To-gider they smyte than faste:
                        
                          Of the Almaignes they were not agaste.
                        
                          There they beganne all newe fighte,
                          Line 2125 
                        
                          Wher-thurgh deide many a good knighte.
                        
                          Guy gooth to smyte Duke Reyner,
                        
                          And of his stede he felled him ther.
                        
                          Heraude smote to Gaudemer there,
                        
                          And oute of his sadell he did him bere.
                          Line 2130 
                        
                          With that cometh forth Gilmyn:
                        
                          Besibbe he was the Duke Segwyn.
                        
                          Than duke Botolf he smote so,
                        
                          That of his hors he felled him tho.
                        
                          Whan that sawe Duke Reyner
                          Line 2135 
                        
                          And the Constable Gaudemer,
                        
                          Before theim their folke sleyne,
                        
                          With grete sorowe and with peyne
                        
                          Their voices lowde they greyde,
                        
                          And assembled ayene with their ayde.
                          Line 2140 
                        
                          With that come the Duke Reyner,
                        
                          And Gilemyn he mette ther,
                        
                          So that the swerde longe and brode
                        
                          Thurgh-oute his hepe it glode.
                        
                          Gilemyn with-drowe abacke fleyng,
                          Line 2145 
                        
                          Ayene-warde faste priking,
                        
                          And is to Duke Segwyn come:
                        
                          Well he him knewe right sone.
                        
                          'Sir Duke,' quoth Gilemyn,
                        
                          Thou abidest to longe, by seynt Martyn.
                          Line 2150 
                        
                          Socour thy folke, and that blyue: [Caius MS. 107 page 68] 
                        
                          The Almaignes begynne fast on vs dryue.'
                        
                          Whan the Duke of Gilemyn this herde,
                        
                          And of his folke how it ferde,
                        
                          He smote his stede and gan to goon,
                          Line 2155 
                        
                          To his men he seide anoon:

Page 129

                        
                          Barons, knyghtis, strengthe you
                        
                          Guy wele to socour now;
                        
                          For and Guy bee dede or nome,
                        
                          All we bee thanne ouercome.'
                          Line 2160 
                        
                          With that come the Duke dryuyng,
                        
                          And the Almaignes fast assailling.
                        
                          The Duke a knyghte smote anone,
                        
                          That dede he did him to grounde goon.
                        
                          Guy they socour well with all:
                          Line 2165 
                        
                          Many a good knyght he did dede down fall.
                        
                          On either side they foughte wele
                        
                          With their launces and swerdes of stele:
                        
                          They smote of hedes, armes, and honde;
                        
                          All to-hewen they lye in the sonde.
                          Line 2170 
                        
                          With that cometh Duke Reyner,
                        
                          Sleyne he hath the good Gayer:
                        
                          In fraunce he was borne, Guyes feere;
                        
                          To Guy he was leef and dere.
                        
                          Whan Guy that sawe he was sory:
                          Line 2175 
                        
                          To the Duke he smote greuously,
                        
                          That of his stede he felled him downe;
                        
                          And than he drowe his swerde browne.
                        
                          Suche a stroke he smote him vpon
                        
                          That dey he wende forth-with anoon.
                          Line 2180 
                        
                          Sone there beganne a straunge shoure: [Caius MS. 107 page 69] 
                        
                          To-geder they smyte knyghtis of valoure.
                        
                          So many strokes yiuen thou might see
                        
                          Of the knightis that smote so free:
                        
                          Bothe with spere and with swerde
                          Line 2185 
                        
                          They yiue many strokes and harde.
                        
                          Ther men might see straye many a stede,
                        
                          And many a knyght shriche and grede.
                        
                          Wherto shuld y make a tale of nought?
                        
                          The Almaignes were to deth brought.
                          Line 2190

NOWE BEEN the Almaignes ouere-come, To dethe wounded, and greuously nome.

Page 131

                        
                          Toward their hooste they goo fleyng,
                        
                          The Duke and Guy after theim dryuyng.
                        
                          With that come priking Terry full sone,
                          Line 2195 
                        
                          Of Gornoyse Aubries owne sone,
                        
                          Of thirty Knyghtis swithe and snelle
                        
                          Of his owne meyne hardy and felle:
                        
                          All they come armed the hooste fro,
                        
                          The Almaignes socour for to doo.
                          Line 2200 
                        
                          There they haue theim mette:
                        
                          With loude steuene withoute lette,
                        
                          'Lordingis,' he seide, 'how goo ye?
                        
                          Ayene wende nowe with me
                        
                          To assaille eftsones your foon,
                          Line 2205 
                        
                          Of whom ye bee ouerecome echoon,
                        
                          Or y woll telle the Emperour
                        
                          That ye haue him doo grete dishonour,
                        
                          Whan ye for a few men [Caius MS. 107 page 70] 
                        
                          Shull so swithe awey fleen.'
                          Line 2210 
                        
                          Ayene they tourned anone righte,
                        
                          And begonne there a grete fighte.
                        
                          Terry beganne a knyghte to smyte,
                        
                          Semblant of loue he made a luyte.
                        
                          Hertely to him smote Gyoun;
                          Line 2215 
                        
                          His shelde auailled him not a botoun.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Harde strokes they to-geder deelde
                        
                          On helmes and on stronge sheelde;
                          Line 2220 
                        
                          So harde they striken theim betwene,
                        
                          That goolde and stones falle ther been.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thanne come the Duke Segwyn,
                          Line 2225 
                        
                          Longe ne might he withholde him;
                        
                          To-gider they smyte harde and wele
                        
                          With swerdes well wrought of stele.

Page 133

                        
                          Than he tourned his stede Tirry,
                        
                          As a good knyght, and a mighti,
                          Line 2230 
                        
                          And bakward smote to a knyghte,
                        
                          That dede he falled him anone right.
                        
                          Whan the Duke Segwyn sawe this,
                        
                          Full wrothe he was ywis,
                        
                          And all wrothely seide to Guy,
                          Line 2235 
                        
                          'This is grete scorne sikirly,
                        
                          Whan all him self oon knyghte
                        
                          Shall vs doo this grete vnrighte.'
                        
                          Guy answerd, 'tourne ayene,
                        
                          And hardily assaille theim;
                          Line 2240 
                        
                          For better it is manly dede bee
                        
                          Than with shame awey to flee.'
                        
                          The Almaignes they goo to assailly, [Caius MS. 107 page 71] 
                        
                          And with grete strength ouerecome bee they.
                        
                          Tirry to theim was euere meuyng,
                          Line 2245 
                        
                          And with his swerde gretly harmyng.
                        
                          Now goo the Almaignes fast fleyng,
                        
                          And in their fistes their swerdes bering.
                        
                          The Duke Segwyn ayene come,
                        
                          And lete theim passe their wey home.
                          Line 2250

                        
                          THANNE the Almaignes were thus wente
                        
                          Discomfited in the feelde and shente,
                        
                          The Duke Segwyn than wente, as ye may see,
                        
                          The right wey to the Citee;
                        
                          And Guy of Warrewik with him is goo,
                          Line 2255 
                        
                          And all their felawes with theim also.
                        
                          With theim they lede their prisounes,
                        
                          Dukes, Erles, and also Barounes.
                        
                          Full glad and blithe all they bee,
                        
                          And all that were in the Citee.
                          Line 2260 
                        
                          To their Innes they bee goon
                        
                          Full gladde and ioyefull euerychoon.
                        
                          The Duke him wente to his toure:
                        
                          His prisouners he lokked with grete honoure

Page 135

                        
                          Than, Duke Reyner of Cessoigne,
                          Line 2265 
                        
                          And the Erle Waldemer of Coloigne,
                        
                          And with theim Conrad the Stywarde,
                        
                          That good knyght was and not a-ferde.
                        
                          With him to ete he theim dude,
                        
                          And gretly theim he than worshipped.
                          Line 2270 
                        
                          The Duke his Suster cleped him to,
                        
                          The fairest maide that on erthe might goo.
                        
                          'Thise prisouners thou take to the, [Caius MS. 107 page 72] 
                        
                          And in thy Chambre thou kepe theim me,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And ouer all other the Duke Reyner,
                          Line 2277 
                        
                          That to me is leef and deer.'
                        
                          'Sir,' she seide, 'y shall so
                        
                          To kepe theim my might doo.'
                          Line 2280

                        
                          AND THE Emperour Reyner free
                        
                          Of this combraunce ne wiste he.
                        
                          With a King he pleide at ches
                        
                          Of Hungrye, that he loued y-wis.
                        
                          With that come Terry priking,
                          Line 2285 
                        
                          And in his honde his swerde bering:
                        
                          His harneis was all to-tore,
                        
                          And his vomrell aualed before;
                        
                          Thurgh his body the blode ranne,
                        
                          And Terry made noo semblant thanne:
                          Line 2290 
                        
                          His stronge shelde all to-hewen was,
                        
                          That skantly any hole pees nas.
                        
                          'Emperour,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me:
                        
                          Harde tydingis y telle the
                        
                          Of thy Barons that taken bee;
                          Line 2295 
                        
                          Ne shall they neuere come more at the.
                        
                          Some bee dede and leyde to grounde,
                        
                          And some smitten with dethes wounde.
                        
                          Take is the duke Reyner,
                        
                          And of Coloigne the Erle Waldemer;

                          Line 2300

Page 137

                        
                          Line 2300 
                        
                          The Duke of pauye wounded is
                        
                          With a swerde thurgh the body ywis:
                        
                          Of deth he dredde him sore,
                        
                          To eskape he weneth nomore.'

                        
                          WHANNE the Emperour herde tho [Caius MS. 107 page 73] 
                          Line 2305 
                        
                          What the Erle Tirry tolde him to,
                        
                          Full sory he is, and wrothe therfore:
                        
                          All-moste he hath his witte forlore.
                        
                          Swore he hath a full grete othe:
                        
                          By god all-mighti and forsothe,
                          Line 2310 
                        
                          Neuer glad shal bee he,
                        
                          For that Citee take bee,
                        
                          And till the traitours bee slawe,
                        
                          In fire brende, or all quykke drawe.
                        
                          His trompettis he bade blowe anone,
                          Line 2315 
                        
                          And his hooste to harneys echoone.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The feldes sone they haue thurgh-goon:
                        
                          Downes ne valeis they spared noon,
                          Line 2320 
                        
                          Till they come before the Citee.
                        
                          Gonrande than forthe yede he
                        
                          With .v. hundred of orped knyghtes,
                        
                          That hardy were and well doyng in fightes.
                        
                          All that thoo were in the Citee,
                          Line 2325 
                        
                          Vpon the Almaignes gan beholde and see:
                        
                          They sawe the Contrees couered and the felde
                        
                          With white hauberkes, speres, and shelde.
                        
                          The duke him come forth with that,
                        
                          Well armed vpon a good stede he sat:
                          Line 2330 
                        
                          'Guy,' he seide, 'what shall we doo?
                        
                          Yf we goo to smyte theim too?'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Sir,' seide Guy foot hote,
                          Line 2335 
                        
                          'Full well thou shalt doo, y it wote.

Page 139

                        
                          Woll we take a thousand knyghtes,
                        
                          And goo theim assaile anone rightes.
                        
                          Before the Citee y see stonde here [Caius MS. 107 page 74] 
                        
                          Gaier, the Emperours sone Reyner,
                          Line 2340 
                        
                          And .v. hundred knyghtis at his lede,
                        
                          Full well armed vpon their stede.
                        
                          Before their hoost they bee come:
                        
                          Lete vs theim assaille now full sone.
                        
                          Yf we of socour haue any nede,
                          Line 2345 
                        
                          Ayenewarde we mowe vs sone spede.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than oute of the Citee bee they goon
                        
                          Full swithe hasty right anoon,
                          Line 2350 
                        
                          The Almaignes for to assaille:
                        
                          Therof they thinke not to faille.
                        
                          To geder they smyte harde and swithe,
                        
                          Of hors they felle many a sithe.
                        
                          Guy dooth smyte to Gaier,
                          Line 2355 
                        
                          And felled him downe right ther,
                        
                          And so toke him ther in that fighte:
                        
                          The other flowen anone righte.
                        
                          Toward the hoost they flee, y you telle,
                        
                          The other after, theim to quelle.
                          Line 2360 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan they of the hooste sawe this,
                        
                          That their folke so ouere-come is,
                        
                          And that ther was in that fighte nome
                          Line 2365 
                        
                          Gaier, the Emperours sone,
                        
                          Than hasted they of the hoost echoon,
                        
                          Vpon Segwyn they smyte anoon:
                        
                          Begonne they haue a full stronge fighte,
                        
                          Wher-thurgh deide many a knyghte.
                          Line 2370 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 141

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          With that come priking Tirry,
                          Line 2381 
                        
                          That good knyght was and hardy:
                        
                          To the duke Segwyn he smote, [Caius MS. 107 page 75] 
                        
                          That langestreighte he felled him fote hote;
                        
                          And the Duke anone vpsterte,
                          Line 2385 
                        
                          As he that wrothe was in herte,
                        
                          And smote aboute with his swerde of stele,
                        
                          And as a man defendeth him wele.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Tirry him assailleth sharply,
                        
                          And the Almaignes forth-with him hastely:
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          In many places wounded is he,
                          Line 2395 
                        
                          That all-moste he weneth dede bee.
                        
                          Whan Guy sawe the Duke afote,
                        
                          For sorowe ne wiste he noomaner bote:
                        
                          There he smote to a knyght,
                        
                          That dede he felled him anoon right.
                          Line 2400 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The Duke he sette his stede vpon,
                          Line 2405 
                        
                          And gooth to assaille than their foon.
                        
                          Fro thense woll they neuere drawe,
                        
                          Till they the Almaignes haue slawe.

Page 143

                        
                          The Almaignes on theim pursewe so stronge,
                        
                          That it endure they might not longe.
                          Line 2410

                        
                          SIR DUKE Segwyn,' seide Gyoun,
                        
                          'Vnderstonde to my reesoun:
                        
                          To the Cite ayene y rede we goo,
                        
                          For well we may it nowe doo;
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          For, and we here any lenger duelle,
                        
                          For fooles we may oure-self telle;
                        
                          For they been fourty ayenst vs oon.'
                        
                          Withoute moo to the Citee they bee goon,
                          Line 2420 
                        
                          And at all houres defended theim,
                        
                          And so refresshed theim-self and their men.
                        
                          Whanne the Emperour herde this, [Caius MS. 107 page 76] 
                        
                          That his sone so taken is,
                        
                          With lowde steuene than commaunded he
                          Line 2425 
                        
                          His folke in haste to assaille that Citee
                        
                          With shotte of bowe and arblaste,
                        
                          With swerdes and speres shete and kaste;
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Bot they within defende theim a-right,
                        
                          And they withoute yelde theim euere grete fight:
                        
                          Bot the Almaignes that daie there
                          Line 2435 
                        
                          With grete sorowe sleyne were,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And at Euen they been withdrawe:
                        
                          The Emperour was sory in his sawe,
                          Line 2440 
                        
                          That he ne mighte of the Citee spede,
                        
                          Ne awreke him at his nede.
                        
                          Bot for all that the Citee euery day fourtnyght
                        
                          They dud assaille with grete myght,

Page 145

                        
                          And the Duke, Guy, and heraude
                          Line 2445 
                        
                          Mightly withstode their stronge assaute:
                        
                          Moche folke of his slowen they,
                        
                          Wherfor he was in herte sory.
                          Line 2448 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 147

Page 149

Page 151

                        
                          WHANNE the Emperour herde him speke so,
                          Line 2559 
                        
                          And so grete loue shewe him to,
                          Line 2560 
                        
                          The king of hungry he cleped him to,
                        
                          And sir Tirry of Gurmeyse also:
                        
                          'Lordinges,' he seide, 'what shall we doo?
                        
                          Rede ye that we thider goo?'
                        
                          Than seide Terry to the Emperour:
                          Line 2565 
                        
                          'The Duke you dooth grete honour,
                        
                          Whan he his Citees and Castellis echoone, [Caius MS. 107 page 77] 
                        
                          That stronge been of lyme and stoone,
                        
                          All deliuere at thyn owne wille
                        
                          (Thanke thou owest him by reason and skille),
                          Line 2570 
                        
                          And at thy wille his body doo.
                        
                          Wende ye thider, y rede you so;
                        
                          For, if he doo as thise men haue highte,
                        
                          More Worship the doo he ne mighte;
                        
                          For with strength thou getest this profre neuere,
                          Line 2575 
                        
                          With all the power that thou kan keuer.'
                        
                          'I woll,' quoth the Emperour, 'that it so bee,
                        
                          Bot that y him nought see,
                        
                          Till y haue counsailled me
                        
                          With my barons that in their hostage bee.'
                          Line 2580 
                        
                          With that they gynne for to wende,
                        
                          And of accorde speke the knightis hende.
                        
                          To Ransone they bee come,
                        
                          And richely there they bee vnder-noome;
                        
                          And Guy him dresseth with all his might
                          Line 2585 
                        
                          Well to serue bothe baron and knight:
                        
                          Ther was yoman ne swayne noon,
                        
                          Bot Guy theim yiftes yaue good woon.

Page 153

                        
                          Whan it was nyghte, to bedde they goo,
                        
                          And erly arise withoute moo.
                          Line 2590 
                        
                          To the Chirche the Emperour is goo,
                        
                          For to here his masse tho.
                        
                          His eerles and barons aboute him gan stonde,
                        
                          That were of many dyuerse londe;
                        
                          And the Duke there was nought,
                          Line 2595 
                        
                          For the Emperour hym hated in his thought.
                        
                          The same daye tymely [Caius MS. 107 page 78] 
                        
                          The Duke aroosse full eerly:
                        
                          Rewthfully he dighte him there
                        
                          In his sherte allone with open heere:
                          Line 2600 
                        
                          A stronge roope he toke thoo,
                        
                          And aboute his nekke he gan it doo.
                        
                          Than to his prisouners he is goon,
                        
                          And theim dooth reson oon by oon:
                        
                          'Lordinges, barouns, y bidde you,
                          Line 2605 
                        
                          That ye woll prey for me now
                        
                          To our lorde, so well ye may,
                        
                          That he me foryiue this same day
                        
                          His wrathe and his male-talent.'
                        
                          And all they him graunte with oon assent.
                          Line 2610 
                        
                          Than he threwe his mantell of:
                        
                          Many man had grete rewthe therof.
                        
                          In his sherte he stode allone:
                        
                          For him was made mikell mone.
                        
                          To the Emperour he gooth soo,
                          Line 2615 
                        
                          An Olyue boughwe in his handes twoo,
                        
                          That pees shuld beetoken betwene theim.
                        
                          All weping his wey forth he doth kenne.
                        
                          Thurgh the strete barefote he gooth
                        
                          And barehede in his sherte forsoth
                          Line 2620 
                        
                          With a roope aboute his swere:
                        
                          Many man behelde him there.
                        
                          Erles and Dukes of grete valour
                        
                          For him they preide to the Emperour:

Page 155

                        
                          On their knees vpon the stoon
                          Line 2625 
                        
                          For him they besoughte euerychoon,
                        
                          That he wolde haue mercy of Segwyn [Caius MS. 107 page 79] 
                        
                          For goddis loue and seynte Martyn.
                        
                          With that is Segwyn to the Chirche come,
                        
                          On his knees he felle full sone:
                          Line 2630 
                        
                          Of the Emperour he besoughte mercy
                        
                          For goddis loue and oure Lady.

                        
                          'SIR EMPEROUR,' seide Segwyn,
                        
                          'This daie is come ending myn,
                        
                          Bot thou haue mercy on me.
                          Line 2635 
                        
                          At thy wille it shal bee.
                        
                          No lenger y ne woll thy wrath dryue,
                        
                          While y am man a-lyue,
                        
                          Bot oute of this londe y shall goo,
                        
                          And neuere ayene to come moo.
                          Line 2640 
                        
                          Here my swerde, thou take it,
                        
                          And myn hede of thou smyte,
                        
                          Or what thy wille is, doo by me
                        
                          (Myn owne Lorde, y woll it so bee)
                        
                          For the folie that y dude,
                          Line 2645 
                        
                          Whan y slowe thy neuiew in that stede.'
                        
                          Than bespake the Emperoures sone
                        
                          To his fader and seide: 'sir, of your benesone,
                        
                          Segwyn is a noble baroun.
                        
                          Holden he hath vs in prisoun:
                          Line 2650 
                        
                          To vs he hath bee full kynde,
                        
                          And to you herafter may bee well helping.
                        
                          Bot thou foryiue him thy wrath swithe,
                        
                          Of me thou shalt neuere bee blithe.'
                        
                          Than seide the Duke Reyner full sone:
                          Line 2655 
                        
                          'Sir Segwyn is a noble baron.
                        
                          Sithe he obeyeth him to thy wille, [Caius MS. 107 page 80] 
                        
                          Foryiue him thy wrathe, and that is skille,
                        
                          Of thy neuyew, that he slow by cas;
                        
                          For in his defence, by god, it was.

                          Line 2660

Page 157

                        
                          Line 2660 
                        
                          And if any woll contrary that y-sey,
                        
                          Before you to preoue it my gloue y woll ley.
                        
                          And bot if thou haue of him mercy,
                        
                          Euer here-after y shalbee thyn enmy.'
                        
                          Than come forthe sir Gaudemer,
                          Line 2665 
                        
                          And thus to the Emperour he spake there:
                        
                          'Sir, y loue the Duke ouere all thing;
                        
                          For he vs hath doo grete worshipping,
                        
                          And sworne brethern we bee two:
                        
                          And thou hense forewarde him mysdoo,
                          Line 2670 
                        
                          All my people y shall forsende,
                        
                          And in-to Coloigne y shall wende:
                        
                          Thy Castellis and Citees, that been so stronge,
                        
                          Destroye y shall for thy wronge.
                        
                          Bot thou mercy of him haue nowe,
                          Line 2675 
                        
                          All this y shall ayenst thy prowe.'
                        
                          With that come the Styward forthe:
                        
                          'Sir, the Duke is moche worthe,
                        
                          And grete worship he hath vs doo
                        
                          (Neuere more yet come vs vnto),
                          Line 2680 
                        
                          Whan he in bataille vs hath nome,
                        
                          And you hath thus doo hider come.
                        
                          Bot thou of him haue the rather mercy,
                        
                          Euere of me herafter thou shalt failly.'
                        
                          With that cometh forth Guy
                          Line 2685 
                        
                          Of Warrewik, the Knyght hardy:
                        
                          'Sir, for goddis Loue y bidde the, [Caius MS. 107 page 81] 
                        
                          On this Duke thou haue mercy and pitee,
                        
                          And with that y shall your man become
                        
                          To serue the, Lorde, all and some.'
                          Line 2690 
                        
                          Tirry is than forthe come,
                        
                          Of Gormeyse Aubries sone:
                        
                          'Sir, on this Duke ye must haue mercy
                        
                          For loue of thise good men, that stonde you by.
                        
                          Yf thou haue loste thurgh him
                          Line 2695 
                        
                          Sadok the hende, that was thy kyn,

Page 159

                        
                          In his stede y shall bee,
                        
                          And with all my might serue the.
                        
                          Therfor at an ende y beseche the,
                        
                          Foryiue him your wrathe with herte free.
                          Line 2700 
                        
                          And bot ye woll that doo,
                        
                          Beleue it well withoute wordes moo.'
                        
                          So longe they haue the Emperour bede,
                        
                          That he is agreable to their rede.
                        
                          To theim he seith with herte free:
                          Line 2705 
                        
                          'Lordes, barons, herken to me.
                        
                          Now ye all haue bidden so,
                        
                          For your loue y shall thus doo,
                        
                          And for sir Guy, that is englissh,
                        
                          That so good knyght and curteys is:
                          Line 2710 
                        
                          All my wrathe y foryiue him
                        
                          For loue of the soules of my kynn,
                        
                          And for y him so mylde see.
                        
                          Vnderstonde nowe and herken to me:
                        
                          For he me crieth mercy withoute pride,
                          Line 2715 
                        
                          Mercy he shall haue to his mede.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 161

                        
                          THANNE seide the Emperour anone [Caius MS. 107 page 82] 
                          Line 2755 
                        
                          To the Duke Segwyn, as ye may here echon:
                        
                          'Sir Duke, y shall loue the:
                        
                          Wif thou shalt haue thurgh me
                        
                          A faire Suster y haue in my boure:
                        
                          I shall hir yiue the to paramoure.'
                          Line 2760 
                        
                          Erneborugh highte that faire may:
                        
                          Anone he spoused theim that same day.
                        
                          The brideale was holde with game and pley,
                        
                          And therof had a ioyefull day.
                        
                          He loued hir, and worshipped swithe:
                          Line 2765 
                        
                          To Bornewik he ledde hir blithe,
                        
                          He and Erneborgh his wif gentill
                        
                          There they wolde soiourne a whill.

Page 163

                        
                          And after the twentith day
                        
                          Of his soiournyng, the sothe to say,
                          Line 2770 
                        
                          Guy is to the Duke goo,
                        
                          And asked him leue thoo.
                        
                          'Sir Duke,' he seide, 'goo y shall
                        
                          In-to my Contrey withoute lenger taryng at all.
                        
                          In thy werre y haue serued the,
                          Line 2775 
                        
                          And yf thou haue any thing to doo with me,
                        
                          After me thou sende hardily,
                        
                          And y shall come right hastely.'
                        
                          'Sir,' seide the duke, 'graunt mercy!
                        
                          I haue it not deserued to the, sir Guy.
                          Line 2780 
                        
                          Abide heer, and duelle with me:
                        
                          Half my castellis thou shall haue and Citee.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy toke his leue, and forthe wente he:
                          Line 2785 
                        
                          The Duke wepte sore for pitee.
                        
                          The Emperour also wente his wey, [Caius MS. 107 page 83] 
                        
                          And Guy with him, the sothe to sey.
                        
                          Castellis were boden him, and Citees,
                        
                          Riche worship, and grete fees,
                          Line 2790 
                        
                          And he therof wolde noon,
                        
                          For noo thing they kouthe doon;
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Bot at their wille an huntyng they goo
                        
                          In euery manere Guy solace for to doo.
                          Line 2800

                        
                          ON A DAYE as Guy come fro dere sheting
                        
                          By a cooste he sawe a shippe aryving.
                        
                          Thiderwardes he is goon:
                        
                          Faire he grette the maryners echoon.

Page 165

                        
                          'Lordingis,' he seide, 'of whense come ye,
                          Line 2805 
                        
                          That in this contree thus arriued bee?
                        
                          By your semblant y see, y-wis,
                        
                          That ye lede grete richesse.'
                        
                          Amonges theim all ther spake oon,
                        
                          That well kouthe speke for theim, anoon:
                          Line 2810 
                        
                          'Fro Constantyn-noble come bee we,
                        
                          Londe of pees to seche, in verite.
                        
                          Marchantis we been of that lande,
                        
                          And oute driuen with stronge hande;
                        
                          For of Coyne the riche sowdan
                          Line 2815 
                        
                          (Proude he is, and of grete boban),
                        
                          He hath with him fiftene kynges,
                        
                          And .xxx.ti admirallis, withoute lesinges.
                        
                          In-to Constantyn-noble the Emperour flowen is,
                        
                          And they haue him beseged, y-wys.
                          Line 2820 
                        
                          There is him lefte noon other Citee,
                        
                          Bot all haue destroied withoute pitee.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Fro thense we might eskape vnnethe, [Caius MS. 107 page 84] 
                        
                          Bot were well nyghe broughte to dethe.
                          Line 2830 
                        
                          Come we bee thus in-to this contree:
                        
                          Voir and grys enough lede we,
                        
                          Golde and siluer and riche stones,
                        
                          That vertues bereth for the nones.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Suche bee the tidingis of that contree.'
                        
                          Than answerd Guy: 'my frendis free,

Page 167

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          God, for his names seuen,
                        
                          Bringe you sone to good haūen.'

                        
                          WHANNE the merchauntis had tolde as y you sey,
                        
                          Guy betaughte theim god and good day.
                        
                          To his ynne he is goo,
                          Line 2845 
                        
                          Heraude of Ardern he cleped him to.
                        
                          'Heraude,' he seide, 'woll we goon
                        
                          At the Emperour to take our leeue anoon?
                        
                          In-to Constantyn-noble woll we goo
                        
                          To helpe the Emperour oute of woo:
                          Line 2850 
                        
                          That with a Sowdan beseged is he,
                        
                          So telleth me men of that contree.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Heraude answerd, 'y graunte it so bee:
                          Line 2855 
                        
                          Grete worship it may tourne the.'
                        
                          At the Emperour he toke leeue to goo,
                        
                          And he him graunted vnnethe tho.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than toke Guy an hundred knightes
                        
                          Of the stalworthest and best in fightes,
                        
                          That he might in Almaigne fynde,
                        
                          And most preised and best doyng.
                        
                          Anone they bee to shippe wente: [Caius MS. 107 page 85] 
                          Line 2865 
                        
                          Good wynde god hath theim sente.
                        
                          To Constantyn-noble they bee come,
                        
                          And, whan the Emperour wiste that anoone,
                        
                          That Guy of Warrewik with his compaignye
                        
                          Was logged in his Citee,
                          Line 2870 
                        
                          Two erles he did for him goo,
                        
                          That he wolde come him to.
                        
                          And Guy him gooth to the Emperour free:
                        
                          'Welcome, sir Guy,' than seide he.
                        
                          'To thy helpe grete nede haue we.
                          Line 2875 
                        
                          Moche y haue herde speke of the.

Page 169

                        
                          Thise Saresyns haue my men quelled,
                        
                          And all this londe made bare felde,
                        
                          All bot this oon Citee
                        
                          Destroied and brent, y telle the.
                          Line 2880 
                        
                          Fourty they slowe vpon a day
                        
                          Of my men, the sothe to sey.
                        
                          My men they slowe and my sone also,
                        
                          Wherfor, leef frende, y pray the to,
                        
                          That thou woldest me vpon theim wreke,
                          Line 2885 
                        
                          And the theeues oute of my londe reke:
                        
                          My faire doughter thou shalt haue
                        
                          With half my londe by the lawe.'
                        
                          Than answerd him sir Guy,
                        
                          And seide: 'sir, graunt mercy!'
                          Line 2890 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          At the Emperour he toke his leeue anoon,
                          Line 2895 
                        
                          And to his Inne he is goon.
                        
                          Grete noyse and crye they herde in the Citee:
                        
                          Guy anone asked what that might bee.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          So many knyghtes he sawe to armes goo, [Caius MS. 107 page 86] 
                        
                          And as many sergeantis renne to corners thoo.
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth a burgeis, 'by seynt Martyn,
                        
                          It is the wicked hooste of Sarasyn:
                        
                          It is the Admirall Cosdram,
                          Line 2905 
                        
                          The neuyew of the riche Sowdan.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          There nys man ne knyght noon
                        
                          That in wrath darre loke him vpon.
                          Line 2910 
                        
                          His armes all venymed bee:
                        
                          That venym is deth, truly.

Page 171

                        
                          In the worlde nys man, and he hym take might,
                        
                          That he ne shulde dye anone right.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Come he is with his Chiualrye,
                        
                          And with him the riche king of Turkye
                        
                          With an hundred turkes in fighte stronge:
                        
                          Ther been noon better in noo londe.'

                        
                          ASSONE AS Guy hath herde
                          Line 2925 
                        
                          What his hooste to him seide,
                        
                          To his felawes he seide anone,
                        
                          'To armes swithe euerichone!
                        
                          The sarasyns we woll agaste.
                        
                          For goddis loue, smyte faste.'
                          Line 2930 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy to the Admirall smote so,
                          Line 2935 
                        
                          That shelde ne hauberk aduailled him not a sloo:
                        
                          Thurgh the body he gaue him a wounde,
                        
                          That dede he felle anone to grounde.
                        
                          Guy his swerde anone to him drowe,
                        
                          That the heuede fro the body flowe.
                          Line 2940 
                        
                          To the Emperour he hath it sente,
                        
                          That full glad was of that presente.
                        
                          Heraude smote the king of Turkye [Caius MS. 107 page 87] 
                        
                          (Ther was noon feller in all Surrye):
                        
                          Thurgh-oute the body he him smote,
                          Line 2945 
                        
                          That dede he felle to the grounde fote hote.
                        
                          With that come Thebaude priking,
                        
                          In fraunce borne, a knyght full kynde:

Page 173

                        
                          With suche strength he smote Elmadan,
                        
                          That him aduailled noo thing he had on.
                          Line 2950 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Gauter come priking anone with that,
                        
                          Of Almaigne a good knyght of astat.
                        
                          He began to smyte to Amodan
                          Line 2955 
                        
                          (Thou hast not herde of a feller man):
                        
                          His body in two he hath clefte,
                        
                          And dede in the felde it hath lefte.
                        
                          With that come forth Morgadour:
                        
                          Styward he was with the Emperour.
                          Line 2960 
                        
                          Knyght he was good and hardy,
                        
                          And traytour he was, and full of enuy.
                        
                          He gan to smyte to a sarasyn,
                        
                          That noo-thing him helped Appolyn.
                        
                          Than they smyte to-gider manly,
                          Line 2965 
                        
                          The bataille they begynne biggely.
                        
                          There men might see Guy smyte
                        
                          The sarasyns heedes of at a strike,
                        
                          And with him heraude also:
                        
                          Bothe they strength theim well to doo.
                          Line 2970 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The sarasyns theim yiue grete fighte,
                        
                          For stronge they bee, and of grete mighte.
                        
                          With that come Escladar priking,
                          Line 2975 
                        
                          A Sarasyn he was of bigge making.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 175

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thus thise sarasyns with grete pride [Caius MS. 107 page 88] 
                        
                          Many cristen knyghtes to deth they leye aside.
                          Line 2990 
                        
                          Whanne heraude hath that seyn,
                        
                          Therof he was noo-thing fayn.
                        
                          To Amylorde he smote so,
                        
                          That dede he felle to grounde tho.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan Escladar sawe this,
                        
                          To awreke Amylorde leef him is.
                        
                          To heraude he smote hertly,
                        
                          And he him mette boldely.
                          Line 3000 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          So egre was heraude to slee Eskladar,
                        
                          That, or he was any-thing war,
                          Line 3010 
                        
                          An hundred turkes ther were come,
                        
                          And heraude all-most they had nome.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan Guy sawe that, he was sory:
                          Line 3015 
                        
                          Hastly he gooth him to socour truly.
                        
                          His good bronde in honde helde he:
                        
                          The hede of a Sarasyn he dud of flee.
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 177

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Heraude he socoureth well in that nede,
                        
                          And made him worthe vpon his stede.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than Guy and heraude bothe in fere
                        
                          With their felawes, that good were,
                        
                          Haue discomfited and quelled
                        
                          And the sarasyns hewen in the feeld.
                          Line 3030 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 179

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thus they thanked god all and some,
                          Line 3065 
                        
                          That the Sarasyns were ouere-come.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 181

Page 183

                        
                          THE EMPEROUR was full gladde tho
                        
                          That ouere-come thus was his foo.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Goo he woll to the Ryuere,
                        
                          To pley him and to solace there.
                        
                          The Emperour sente for [his fowlis] thoo, [Caius MS. 107 page 89] 
                        
                          Ostreyes and faukons, girfaukes also.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Sethe he sente for his knyghtes,
                        
                          That good were and curteys.
                        
                          To Ryuer they been goon
                        
                          All, bot Guy is lefte at hoom.
                          Line 3160 
                        
                          Tho come to him Morgadour,
                        
                          That Styward was with the Emperour.
                        
                          To Guy he seide: 'my frende dere,
                        
                          With herte y loue the in good manere.

Page 185

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Moche y desire thy loue to haue,
                        
                          And therof hertly y the craue:
                        
                          And in-to the Chambre lete vs goo,
                          Line 3175 
                        
                          Amonges the maydens some sportes to doo
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Before thy lemman, Clarice the free,
                        
                          Themperours doughter of bright blee,
                          Line 3180 
                        
                          Whiles the Emperour is to wode goo,
                        
                          To chace the herte and the Roo.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          In-to the Chambre they wente thoo
                          Line 3185 
                        
                          Honde in honde bothe twoo.
                        
                          To the maide they come withoute lette,
                        
                          That curteisly theim hath grette.
                        
                          'Sir Guy,' she seide, 'welcome thou bee!
                        
                          Is it thy wille, come sitte by me.'
                          Line 3190 
                        
                          He toke that mayde and hir kiste:
                        
                          That forthoughte the Styward in his breste;
                        
                          For he hir had loued many a daye,
                        
                          Wenyng to haue spoused that faire maye.
                        
                          Than at Chequer with the meyne
                          Line 3195 
                        
                          Before that maide pleyden they.
                        
                          The first game they haue sette, [Caius MS. 107 page 90] 
                        
                          And the Styward it loste withoute lette.
                        
                          Than another anone they haue begonne,
                        
                          And that also hath Guy wonne,

                          Line 3200

Page 187

                        
                          Line 3200 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And the Styward vp roosse thoo:
                        
                          Wrothe and angry he was also.
                        
                          'Guy,' quoth he, 'y leue the here,
                          Line 3205 
                        
                          Thy self and Clarice pley in fere,
                        
                          Till that y come ayene.'
                        
                          'It shalbee doo,' quoth Guy, 'certen.'
                        
                          Oute wente him Morgadour,
                        
                          And at the stable he toke a chasour,
                          Line 3210 
                        
                          And to the Emperour he gooth right.
                        
                          And, whan the Emperour had of him sight:
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Why comest thou so yerne priking?
                        
                          Telle me withoute lesyng.
                        
                          Yf thou of the Sarasyns here aught,
                        
                          Telle it me and concele naught.'
                          Line 3220

                        
                          'SIR,' QUOTH he, 'y shall the telle:
                        
                          Thy shame noo lenger couere y nelle.
                        
                          A Souldiour thou hast with the,
                        
                          That thinketh for to shende the.
                        
                          Thy doughter, that so faire is,
                          Line 3225 
                        
                          He hath leyn by, ywis.
                        
                          In-to hir boure with strength he yede:
                        
                          By thy doughter his wille he dede.
                        
                          And thou beleue me not, hoom thou fare,
                        
                          And to-geder thou shalt fynde theim there.'
                          Line 3230 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 189

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Who is that?' the Emperour seide.
                        
                          'Guy,' quoth he, and gan vpbreide.
                        
                          'Anone thou him take, and bynde faste, [Caius MS. 107 page 91] 
                        
                          And in thy prison thou doo him kaste.'
                        
                          Quoth the Emperour: 'lete this bee;
                          Line 3255 
                        
                          For so shuld thou not speke of him to me.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Yf he haue assentted therto,
                        
                          With hir his wille for to doo,
                        
                          She is his, and him hir yiuen y haue,
                        
                          Me to socour, helpe, and saue.'
                        
                          Whan the Styward vnderstode in his thoughte
                          Line 3265 
                        
                          That the Emperour herde it noughte,
                        
                          Well sone him forthoughte thoo,
                        
                          And home ayene he gan goo.
                        
                          Anone in-to the Chambre he yede,
                        
                          And to Guy thise wordes he seide:
                          Line 3270 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 191

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Guy, to the Emperour tolde it is,
                        
                          By the Lorde sainte Denys,
                        
                          That with strength tho[u] come in-to his boure,
                          Line 3275 
                        
                          And hast defouled his doughter with dishonour.
                        
                          And if he may the come to,
                        
                          Brenne he woll the or fordoo,
                        
                          And that shuld full sore greue me;
                        
                          Wherfor y counsaille, thou hense flee,
                          Line 3280 
                        
                          Leste he take greuously the,
                        
                          Yf thou befounde in this Citee.'

                        
                          'ALLAS,' QUOTH Guy, 'that were wronge,
                        
                          And y shuld here deth fonge
                        
                          For thing that y gilte haue noon,
                          Line 3285 
                        
                          Ne neuere thoughte it to doon.
                        
                          To day, before he oute yede,
                        
                          Gretly he me loued, as he seide.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Oute of the Chambre he is goo: [Caius MS. 107 page 92] 
                        
                          Sory and heuy he was thoo.
                        
                          To his Inne he yede, y you telle,
                        
                          And cleped to him his felawes all.
                          Line 3300 
                        
                          'Lordingis,' he seide, 'arme we vs at this tyde;
                        
                          For here noo lenger we woll abide.
                        
                          To the Emperour tolde it is,
                        
                          So that he woll vs slee, withoute mys.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And, or we bee take or dede,
                        
                          Many of theim shull dey to their mede.'

Page 193

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To armes with that they wente echoon,
                        
                          And oute of the Citee they bee goon.
                        
                          They wente toward the hethen men,
                        
                          As with theim to holde and to been.
                        
                          . . . . .

                        
                          WITH THAT come the Emperour riding:
                        
                          Fro the Ryuer he was comyng.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Faire weder it was, and mery day also,
                        
                          The brighte armes he sawe thoo.
                          Line 3320 
                        
                          Whan the Emperour theim sey,
                        
                          He hyed fast, till he come theim ney.
                        
                          Of an heraude than asked he,
                        
                          Thise armed knightes what they bee.
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth he, 'it is Guy,
                          Line 3325 
                        
                          That in wrath fro the woll departi, truly.
                        
                          To the Sowdan he woll nowe fare,
                        
                          And werke the moche sorowe and kare.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whanne the Emperour herde this,
                        
                          All mournyng he was, y-wys.
                        
                          He gynneth to prike, and that anone,
                          Line 3335 
                        
                          His hors as fast, as he might goon.
                        
                          After Guy he cleped thoo: [Caius MS. 107 page 93] 
                        
                          'Sir Guy,' he seide, 'noo farther thou goo.
                        
                          For goddis loue lete nowe bee,
                        
                          And abide stille with me.
                          Line 3340 
                        
                          And if y haue ought offended the,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 195

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          At thy wille it amended shalbee.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Guy to the Emperour,
                          Line 3355 
                        
                          'Was y neuere yet traytour,
                        
                          Ne, if god woll, noon wolbee,
                        
                          Whiles the lif is with-in me.
                        
                          Me was tolde before nowe right
                        
                          Of oon that is thy priue knyght,
                          Line 3360 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          That thou woldest me all to-hewe,
                          Line 3365 
                        
                          And my barons, that bee so trewe.
                        
                          Therfor y thoughte that y serue wolde
                        
                          Suche oon that my seruyse yelde sholde.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'My dere frende Guy, ayene thou goo
                          Line 3375 
                        
                          (Lordingis, barons, bidde him also);
                        
                          For at thy wille it is all,
                        
                          All that myn is, and bee shall,'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Line 3380

Page 197

                        
                          Line 3380 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Also the Emperour to Guy seide,
                        
                          'Thy wille to doo by that maide.'
                        
                          Guy kiste the Emperour tho,
                          Line 3385 
                        
                          And ayene to the Citee they been goo.
                        
                          Tho wiste Guy well by than,
                        
                          Betrayed him had his fooman.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          On morowe, full sikirly,
                        
                          The Emperour aroosse eerly.
                        
                          To him seide Guy this speche:
                        
                          'Herken to me, sir, y the beseche.
                        
                          In this mornyng anoon [Caius MS. 107 page 94] 
                          Line 3395 
                        
                          Assailled we shalbee of our foon,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And the Sowdan him-self woll there bee;
                        
                          For a spye it tolde me,
                          Line 3400 
                        
                          That this Citee he woll assaille,
                        
                          And neuere thense departe, withoute faille,
                        
                          Till he haue take the Citee,
                        
                          Or that it discomfited bee.'
                        
                          The Emperour seide: 'sir Guy the free,
                          Line 3405 
                        
                          As thou wolt so shall it bee.
                        
                          All the cure vpon the y doo
                        
                          With cristes blissing and myn therto.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy the Constable cleped him to,
                        
                          That good knyght was, and wise also:
                        
                          Trystour he highte with berde bolde,
                        
                          Lorde and duke of Samary holde.
                        
                          'Sir Tristour,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me:
                          Line 3415 
                        
                          Assailled we shalbee, y telle the.

Page 199

                        
                          Therfor thou must aduise the,
                        
                          How we may best kepe this Citee,
                        
                          Or we shall ayenst theim goo,
                        
                          And kepe theim by patthes to and fro:
                          Line 3420 
                        
                          Mete we may theim on the Downe,
                        
                          And theim accombre and ley to grounde.'
                        
                          'Sir,' seide the Constable,
                        
                          'All thy speche y holde it auayleable.
                        
                          Doo than crye thurgh the Citee
                          Line 3425 
                        
                          That all men redy armed bee,
                        
                          All that armes may welde,
                        
                          And bestirre theim with spere and shelde.'
                        
                          Anone they been all armed wele, [Caius MS. 107 page 95] 
                        
                          Twenty thousand, in hauberkis of stele,
                          Line 3430 
                        
                          And oute of the Citee they bee goo
                        
                          With grete noyse and booste also.
                        
                          'Lordinges,' quoth Guy, 'herken to me
                        
                          Ye that here assembled bee:
                        
                          The despite that they to you haue doon,
                          Line 3435 
                        
                          For goddis loue, nowe thinke theron,
                        
                          And assaille theim with good wille;
                        
                          For, forsothe, y shall you telle,
                        
                          The right is oure: bee not aferde,
                        
                          Let eche of vs kepe his herde,
                          Line 3440 
                        
                          And we woll mete theim with spere and shelde
                        
                          In narowe patthes by the feelde.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 201

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          All they sey: 'graunt mercy!
                        
                          Well speketh nowe sir Guy.'
                        
                          To the patthes they bee come:
                        
                          The Sarasyns they haue vndernome.
                          Line 3460 
                        
                          They sawe the Contrees, fryth and felde
                        
                          With brighte helmes, spere and shelde.

                        
                          THE SOWDAN cleped of Tyre Elmadan:
                        
                          He ne wolde flee for noo man;
                        
                          He was corageous and good knyght,
                          Line 3465 
                        
                          And moche he was dredde in fight.
                        
                          'Elmadan,' he seide, 'come with me.
                        
                          With twenty thousand knightis, y bidde the,
                        
                          The cristen ye shall assaille anone.
                        
                          Loke that ye take theim echone.'
                          Line 3470 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          At the entre of the patthes Guy gan to ryde,
                        
                          And the Sarasyns deth sore he appliede.
                        
                          To his felawes he spake tho: [Caius MS. 107 page 96] 
                        
                          'Lordinges,' he seide, 'bere you well ayenst your foo.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          They bee benethe and we aboue.
                        
                          Lete vs vpon theim smyte, for goddis loue.'
                        
                          To theim they launceth egirly,
                          Line 3485 
                        
                          And they to theim greuously.
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 203

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Many a sarasyn there sleyn is;
                        
                          There doth Guy as the wise, y-wis.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than come forth the king of Nubye,
                          Line 3505 
                        
                          A stronge knyght and a manly:
                        
                          Toward heraude he come priking,
                        
                          And Guy him sawe well comyng.
                        
                          With so grete strength to him he smote,
                        
                          That dede he felled him, god it wote.
                          Line 3510 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 205

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan the Sowdan sawe his folke so dey,
                          Line 3525 
                        
                          By ten, by twelue lye in the wey,
                        
                          He cleped the kyng of Ermonye,
                        
                          That was full of felonye.
                        
                          'King,' he seide, 'ne seest thou nought
                        
                          How my men to deth bee brought?
                          Line 3530 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Bot we on theim bee awreke swithe,
                        
                          Ne shall y neuere bee gladde nor blithe.
                        
                          Woll we theim assaille and fresshly begynne,
                        
                          And the hylle of theim with strength wynne?
                          Line 3540 
                        
                          An hundred we bee ayenst oon:
                        
                          All we shull take anoon.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Vpon the cristen they gan smyte,
                        
                          The Sarasyns, bothe moche and lyte,
                        
                          And the cristen defended theim well
                        
                          With sharpe wepen grounde with steell.
                          Line 3550 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The Sowdan come than with all haste, [Caius MS. 107 page 97] 
                        
                          And at the cristen he smote full faste.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Ayenst Guy he ganne goo,
                        
                          And seide: 'yelde the, traytour, y shall the sloo.'
                        
                          To Guy he smote with grete course,
                        
                          That him was some dele the worse;

                          Line 3560

Page 207

                        
                          Line 3560 
                        
                          And Guy with strength to him smote
                        
                          With his swerde that full harde bote.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To a place he wente, and houed there:
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          A Gesharme in his honde he did bere.
                        
                          The Sarasyns so there he agaste:
                        
                          All that he smote to grounde felle faste.
                        
                          So faste the sarasyns him leyde vpon,
                          Line 3575 
                        
                          That his horse they slowe he sate vpon.
                        
                          His shelde also he hath lore:
                        
                          To-hewe it laye his fete before.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          So many sarasyns he to deth dede,
                        
                          That they ley on hepe to his girdell stede.
                        
                          Who that had seen heraude than fighte,
                        
                          Of a good knyght he speke myghte.
                        
                          A deuonyssh axe he bare in his honde:
                          Line 3585 
                        
                          All that he raughte to grounde wende.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Heraude so sore that daye swanke,
                        
                          That thurgh his mouthe the fome sanke.
                          Line 3590 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And he that was so good a knyght,
                          Line 3595 
                        
                          Guy of Warrewik of grete myght,

Page 209

                        
                          Euere smote to oon and other:
                        
                          His strokes were heuy as a vother.
                        
                          And Guyes felowes also
                        
                          As lyons they foughte thoo,
                          Line 3600 
                        
                          And their souldiers with theim [Caius MS. 107 page 98] 
                        
                          Defended theim as men.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          With that come ayene the Sowdan,
                          Line 3625 
                        
                          And with him many an hethen man.
                        
                          He bare grete hatrede to Guyoun,
                        
                          And to heraude, his compaignyon.
                        
                          Guy was ware of his comyng:
                        
                          To horse he lepe withoute letting.
                          Line 3630 
                        
                          So harde the sowdan smote to Guy
                        
                          Vpon the helme, sikirly,

Page 211

                        
                          That of his creest he felled a quarter,
                        
                          And to Guy he seide in a busemer:
                        
                          'What seist thou, lording? by Appolyn,
                          Line 3635 
                        
                          That was a stroke of a Sarasyn.'
                        
                          And Guy to the Sowdan smote so,
                        
                          That his helme auailled him not a sloo:
                        
                          Streight euen forth to the brayne
                        
                          Helme and flesshe he karf with mayne.
                          Line 3640 
                        
                          And tho he seide in a busemer:
                        
                          'Mahounde helped the litell there.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          How so it fare of my wounde,
                          Line 3645 
                        
                          In Mahounde thou hast litell helpe founde.
                        
                          Right nowe thou scorned me,
                        
                          And of my wounde thou madest thy glee:
                        
                          Lechyng good shall y haue,
                        
                          That shall my wounde hele and saue;
                          Line 3650 
                        
                          And thou hast a crowne shorne to the boon:
                        
                          Now thou may synge masse before noon.
                        
                          Thou maist bee nowe Mahoundis preest,
                        
                          Whan [thou] suche a bisshopps hode werest.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thanne were the Sarasyns ouerecome, [Caius MS. 107 page 99] 
                        
                          Awey fleyng they wente some.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          So many sarasyns sleyn there bee,
                        
                          That fiftene forlange men might see
                        
                          Men wade aboue the hemme of their shoon
                        
                          In the blode that of theim coom.
                        
                          So moche slaughter in eche side was thoo,
                          Line 3665 
                        
                          That .xv. myles men must goo
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 213

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Either vp fote, or vp honde,
                        
                          Or vp man sleyn with bronde.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

                        
                          THOO DUDE the Soudan before hym bringe
                        
                          All his goddis, withoute lesyng:
                          Line 3690 
                        
                          Toward theim he was full wrothe.
                        
                          Euery dele he to-rende his clothe,
                        
                          And seide: 'ye false goddis vntruste,
                        
                          Shame ye doo vs and grete bruste.
                        
                          Ayenst vs ye bee of wikked moode:
                          Line 3695 
                        
                          Sorowe ye doo vs, and noo goode.
                        
                          Whan we haue to you moste nede,
                        
                          Than doo ye vs worste spede.
                        
                          Fye, fye on the, thou Appolyn!
                        
                          Thou shalt haue a full euyll fyn,
                          Line 3700 
                        
                          And thou, Termagant, also:
                        
                          Moche sorowe come the to;
                        
                          And thou, Mahound, their aller Lorde,
                        
                          Thou art not worthe a mouse torde!

Page 215

                        
                          Therfor thou shalt it abigge
                          Line 3705 
                        
                          With harde strokes vpon thy rigge.'
                        
                          He toke a good hawthorne, that by him dud ligge, [Caius MS. 107 page 100] 
                        
                          And beleyde his goddis wombe and Rigge.
                        
                          So he beganne his goddis cloute,
                        
                          That grounde deoned all aboute.
                          Line 3710 
                        
                          Their armes and legges he all to-twighte,
                        
                          And cleped theim wrecches of vnmyghte:
                        
                          'In you was neuere goodnesse founde,
                        
                          Ne nomore might than in an hounde.'
                        
                          By the fete he theim oute drowe,
                          Line 3715 
                        
                          And did theim shame enowe.

                        
                          GUYE cleped to him his chiefenteyn,
                        
                          With good wille to him gan seyn:
                        
                          'Lorde god, thanked he bee!
                        
                          A Faire grace nowe haue we,
                          Line 3720 
                        
                          That the sarasyns bee thus ouerecome.
                        
                          Wende we to the Citee nowe sone.'
                        
                          Whan they to the Cytee were come ayene,
                        
                          To the Emperour welcome they been,
                        
                          And namely Guy, the good knyght,
                          Line 3725 
                        
                          Most was worshipped, and that was right.
                        
                          Whan that sawe Morgadour,
                        
                          That Styward was with the Emperour,
                        
                          That Guy was come home thoo,
                        
                          And that the Emperour loued him so,
                          Line 3730 
                        
                          Than he bethoughte him, the sothe to sey,
                        
                          How he might Guy best betraye.
                        
                          On felonye he bethoughte thoo,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          That Guy shulde on message goo.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thanne he seide to the Emperour: [Caius MS. 107 page 101] 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth he, 'paramour,

                          Line 3740

Page 217

                        
                          Line 3740 
                        
                          Yf thy wille bee, herken me:
                        
                          Good counsaille y shall yiue the.'
                        
                          'Now lete see,' quoth the Emperour.
                        
                          'Vnderstonde me,' quoth Morgadour.
                        
                          'The sowdan hath for his folke sente:
                          Line 3745 
                        
                          In-to all paynym the sonde is wente.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          So moche folke he hath for-sente,
                        
                          The to besege verament.
                          Line 3750 
                        
                          To him, y rede, thou sende thy sonde
                        
                          In sauacion of the and all thy londe,
                        
                          That loue and pees bee betwene you two,
                        
                          Till all this rancour bee a-goo.'
                        
                          'Who durste,' quoth the Emperour, 'thider wende?
                        
                          'Sir, a good knyght hardy and hen le
                        
                          Of thy house, y the aplighte,
                        
                          Guy of Warrewik of grete mighte,
                        
                          And heraude, that other the beste:
                        
                          In theim two thou mav well truste.'
                          Line 3760 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The Emperour seide: 'Morgadour, bee stille:
                          Line 3765 
                        
                          Toward Guy thou hast euyl wille.
                        
                          He ne shall on suche message wende,
                        
                          Bot for my barons y shall sende.'

                        
                          HIS BAROUNS tho he dud for-sende:
                        
                          Ouere all his londe his sonde gan wende,
                        
                          That they shuld to the Emperour come.
                        
                          To theim he seide: 'my frendes all and some,
                        
                          I shulde sende to the Sowdan,
                        
                          Yf y wiste euere by wham.
                        
                          With him to accorde y am in wille, [Caius MS. 107 page 102] 
                          Line 3775 
                        
                          Yf that ye woll assente thertille,

Page 219

                        
                          Yf any of you so hardy were,
                        
                          That durste from vs our message bere.'
                        
                          Whan the Emperour had seide his reeson,
                        
                          Ther was neither knyght nor baron
                          Line 3780 
                        
                          That oon worde him answerd,
                        
                          Bot as dome men sate all aferde.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 221

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And ther was noon, litill ne moche,
                        
                          That oon worde spake sikirliche.

                        
                          GUYE of Warrewik than vpryste:
                        
                          'Sir Emperour, by my lorde Criste,
                        
                          This message,' quoth he thoo,
                          Line 3825 
                        
                          'With goddis helpe y shall it well doo.'
                        
                          The Emperour seide: 'that shalt thou nought:
                        
                          Thider goo haue thou noo thought.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thanne answerd Guy, as y you telle:
                        
                          'By god, sir, y it leue nelle,
                        
                          Bot y woll this message doo,
                        
                          To dye or y thense goo.'
                        
                          With that he toke his leeue of theim all,
                          Line 3835 
                        
                          And wente him forthe oute of the hall.
                        
                          For him they bidde, knyght and baron,
                        
                          To god, that suffred passion,
                        
                          Shuld saue him fro combringe,
                        
                          And him ayene sauf bringe.
                          Line 3840 
                        
                          Guy come to his ynne in a stounde,
                        
                          His felawes he hath all drowping founde.
                        
                          'What, lordingis,' he seide, 'how is it nowe?
                        
                          All-mighti god y beteche you.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth heraude, 'y shall with the goo; [Caius MS. 107 page 103] 
                          Line 3845 
                        
                          For, yf thou dye, y shall also.'
                        
                          Guy answerd: 'so may it not bee.
                        
                          I shall goo: pray thou for me.'

Page 223

                        
                          His armes he asked hastely,
                        
                          And men theim broughte gentilly.
                          Line 3850 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than he girde him with his bronde,
                        
                          That was made in eluyssh londe.
                        
                          A sheelde aboute his swere he toke,
                        
                          To horse he leepe withoute stirope,
                        
                          In his hande he bare his spere keruyng,
                          Line 3865 
                        
                          And oute of the Citee he wente ryding.
                        
                          All the folke of the Citee
                        
                          For him wepte for pitee,
                        
                          And preyde hertly for his gayne-comyng,
                        
                          And that the sowdan shuld haue euyl ending.
                          Line 3870

                        
                          NOWE IS Guy in the wey
                        
                          Towardis the sarasyns, as y you sey,
                        
                          Well armed vpon his stede,
                        
                          A launce he bare full good at nede.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          So nyghe the sarasyns come he is,
                        
                          That he their pauylon sawe y-wis.
                        
                          To the Sowdans pauylon he gan aspie
                        
                          With an heron of golde stonding on highe.
                          Line 3880 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          In-to that pauylon Guy is went
                        
                          On horsebak, y telle you, verament.

Page 225

                        
                          The Sowdan at mete was there:
                          Line 3885 
                        
                          Of Guy ne was he not ware.
                        
                          With the Sowdan ete kyngis ten:
                        
                          A faire sighte it was to ken.
                        
                          And Guy on horsbak sate there, [Caius MS. 107 page 104] 
                        
                          To theim he spake in this manere:
                          Line 3890 
                        
                          'Now that god that duelleth on highe,
                        
                          That all thing socoureth farre and nyghe,
                        
                          And on the Rode suffred passion,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Yiue you all his malison;
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And the first, sir Sowdan,
                        
                          Cristes curse come the vpon!
                          Line 3900 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Vnderstonde, traitour, to my reeson:
                          Line 3905 
                        
                          I am the Emperours garson,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          That by me hath sente his sonde,
                        
                          And biddeth the to goo oute of his londe.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 227

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Therfor to thy pauylon y am come,
                        
                          To warne the to bee hense anone.
                        
                          Answer me nowe to this asking,
                        
                          What worde y shall to my lorde bringe.'

                        
                          QUOTH the Sowdan: 'what art thou,
                          Line 3935 
                        
                          That in-to my courte art come nowe,
                        
                          And mysseist me so shamefully
                        
                          And thretnest me so dedely?'
                        
                          Guy answerd: 'y shall the telle:
                        
                          My name to couere for the y nelle.
                          Line 3940 
                        
                          Guy of Warrewik my name is;
                        
                          In the contree there y was borne, ywis.'
                        
                          The sowdan answerd thoo:
                        
                          'Art thou Guy, that seist soo,
                        
                          Thou slowe my neuyeu Cosdram:
                          Line 3945 
                        
                          His hede thou smote the body fram.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Anone he bade that Guy were nom
                        
                          And kaste in his depe prison,
                          Line 3950 
                        
                          Tylle the borde were withdrawe, [Caius MS. 107 page 105] 
                        
                          And than shamefully to bee slawe.

                        
                          GUYE drowe his swerde anone:
                        
                          The sarasyns fast aboute him gan goon.
                        
                          By seynt Denys Guy gan swere,
                          Line 3955 
                        
                          And if any so hardy were

Page 229

                        
                          To come to him with any shonde,
                        
                          He shuld him slee with his honde;
                        
                          And priked his stede amonge the route:
                        
                          All the sarasyns of him had doubte.
                          Line 3960 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To the sowdan he come with that.
                        
                          In his cheire, wherin he sat,
                        
                          To him he smote than anoon,
                          Line 3965 
                        
                          That the hede vpon the borde felle down.
                        
                          The hede Guy toke vp with his honde,
                        
                          And in a clothe he it wonde.
                        
                          Hastly the sarasyns route
                        
                          Besette Guy all aboute.
                          Line 3970 
                        
                          To Iesu crist he cryde euere vpon.
                        
                          The sarasyns to him resorted echoon.
                        
                          An hundred hedes he dud of fleen
                        
                          Of tho that stode him ayene,
                        
                          And with strength that hede forth bare,
                          Line 3975 
                        
                          Maugre theim all that were there.
                        
                          Thurgh the hooste he rode smertly,
                        
                          His horse him bare full swiftly.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 231

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Bot god him kepte alweys, as it dooth seme,
                        
                          Or ellis his lif he had loste, as men wene;
                        
                          For on euery behalue they smote him to,
                          Line 3995 
                        
                          And he to theim did also.

                        
                          LESTENETH nowe and sitte stille, [Caius MS. 107 page 106] 
                        
                          Lordingis, and it bee youre wille.
                        
                          Of heraude nowe y shall you telle,
                        
                          That of sorowyng may not duelle.
                          Line 4000 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Euery man is full woo
                        
                          Whan he shall a good frende forgoo:
                        
                          So was heraude for his lorde free;
                          Line 4005 
                        
                          For he wende neuere him more see.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          He felle in swowe vpon his bedde
                        
                          Thurgh grete sorowe that he hadde,
                        
                          And thurgh that falle aslepe,
                          Line 4015 
                        
                          As a man that is wery of wepe.
                        
                          A dreme he had merueillously,
                        
                          That he sawe his lorde Guy
                        
                          Vpon his stede swithe comyng,
                        
                          And in his honde his swerde keruyng,
                          Line 4020 
                        
                          And was assailled with wolues and beer:
                        
                          Vnnethe he might fro theim eskape there.
                        
                          All to-cratched they had his sheelde,
                        
                          That pecemele it fleigh in the feelde.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Withat is heraude of his slepe awaked,
                        
                          And anone grete sorowe maked,

Page 233

                        
                          And cride anone to his companye:
                        
                          'Felawes, anone doo you army,
                          Line 4030 
                        
                          And Guy to helpe anone we spede;
                        
                          For of helpe he hath grete nede:
                        
                          Well y it wote by my sweuen.
                        
                          Now helpe us god that is in heuen!'
                        
                          All armed they were anoon, [Caius MS. 107 page 107] 
                          Line 4035 
                        
                          And wente to horse euerychoon,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And with all their might they hie faste
                        
                          For to socour Guy in haste.
                          Line 4040 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Sone they behelde toward a cooste:
                        
                          Of the Sarasyns they herde grete booste.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          All full sore they thretned Guy:
                        
                          Him to slee fast hasted they.
                        
                          Amonge theim they sawe Guyoun
                        
                          That defended him strongly as a lyon.
                        
                          On euery behalue they did him assaille,
                          Line 4055 
                        
                          That by the bridell they toke saunz faille.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Tho gan heraude fast spede
                        
                          To socour Guy; for it was nede.
                        
                          First he smote to a sarasyn,
                        
                          That litill helped him Appolyn.

Page 235

                        
                          They smyte faste and to-geder thronge,
                          Line 4065 
                        
                          That forkoruen been guttes, lyuer, and longe.
                        
                          So at laste, as god yaue theim grace,
                        
                          The sarasyns with shame discomfited was,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And Guy rescowed with grete gladnesse:
                        
                          All thanked god of their prowesse.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The sarasyns with-drowe theim anoon
                          Line 4075 
                        
                          Sory and woofull euerychoon,
                        
                          And toke their lordis body there,
                        
                          As sory wrecches with theim it bere.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

                        
                          THOO GUYE and heraude and their meyne
                        
                          Thanked god fast of their fair iourne.
                        
                          The hede on a spere they haue doo, [Caius MS. 107 page 108] 
                        
                          And ryde faste to the Citee thoo.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan they of the Citee wiste of his comynge
                        
                          For ioye they ganne all the belles rynge.
                        
                          Whan Guy to the Emperour come is
                        
                          The hede he presented with ioye and blis.
                          Line 4090 
                        
                          The Emperour with ioye of Guy it hent,
                        
                          And thanked him gretly of that present.
                        
                          In the Citee he lete make anone
                        
                          A piler of grey marbelstone:
                        
                          The hede therupon sette was,
                          Line 4095 
                        
                          And in eche side an hede of bras.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

WHANNE all this was doo The Emperour cleped Guy him to, 4100

Page 237

                        
                          Line 4100 
                        
                          And seide to him: 'my dere frende Guy,
                        
                          Of all thy goodnesse y kanne not the thanky,
                        
                          Bot, and thy wille were to take,
                        
                          My doughter y yiue the to thy make.'
                        
                          Than answerd to him sir Guy,
                          Line 4105 
                        
                          And seide: 'sir, moult graunt mercy!'
                        
                          At this tyme they departed so:
                        
                          The Emperour to his chambre wente tho.
                        
                          The Emperour aroosse on morowe thoo,
                        
                          And to see the contree he is goo.
                          Line 4110 
                        
                          And Guy thoughte in that mornyng
                        
                          To wode wende in his pleying.
                        
                          So in-to a launde he come by cas,
                        
                          That a litell within the forest was.
                        
                          A lyoun he sawe come thoo,
                          Line 4115 
                        
                          Bot a softe paas he ne might goo,
                        
                          With yanyng mouthe, full wery he was. [Caius MS. 107 page 109] 
                        
                          Thanne seide Guy, 'allas, allas!
                        
                          This beest had helpe noon.'
                        
                          His men dredde the lyon echoon.
                          Line 4120 
                        
                          Guy to the lyon wente, saunz faille:
                        
                          The lyon on him waued his taille,
                        
                          As he wolde helpe haue
                        
                          For a dragon, that ley ther in a caue,
                        
                          With whom the lyon had foughte,
                          Line 4125 
                        
                          And nye ouere-come he was him thoughte.
                        
                          Whan that wiste Guy
                        
                          In his herte he was sory.
                        
                          After his stede he sente tho,
                        
                          Shelde, and spere, and swerd also.
                          Line 4130 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan the dragon sawe a man to him come
                        
                          The lyon he lefte, and to the man ronne.
                        
                          With open mouth toward Guy he gan goon,
                          Line 4135 
                        
                          And Guy bare vp his spere anone:

Page 239

                        
                          In-to the throte he it putte with strength,
                        
                          Farre in-to his body his speres length,
                        
                          That dede he felle to grounde tho.
                        
                          Wherto shuld y make tales moo?
                          Line 4140 
                        
                          He smote of the hede, and wente his wey
                        
                          Homeward ayene, the sothe to sey.
                        
                          Before him gooth the lyon,
                        
                          And folowed him alwey by woon,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And likked his fete as he yede,
                        
                          And lepte and pleyde in euery stede.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          With that praye wente sir Guy,
                        
                          And yelde it to the Emperour, sikirly.
                        
                          All were full gladde of the lyon [Caius MS. 107 page 110] 
                        
                          Sauf Morgadour the felon,
                        
                          That was the Emperours Styward,
                          Line 4155 
                        
                          That euere was Guy ayeneward.
                        
                          A slie treason than thoughte he,
                        
                          That he wolde the lyon slee.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Now is Guy to his ynne goo:
                        
                          The lyon him foloweth euere moo.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 241

Page 243

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And Guy in-to his bedde he is stryke,
                          Line 4235 
                        
                          And therin he lieth longe sike.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 245

Page 247

. . . . .

                        
                          GUYE aroosse after the fourtenyghte,
                        
                          And to courte he wente righte.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          With him his lyon yede to Courte thoo,
                          Line 4285 
                        
                          Thurgh whom aroosse sorowe and woo.
                        
                          The Emperour of Guy was fayne thoo,
                        
                          That his sikenesse was fro him goo;
                        
                          Bot Morgadour, sikirly,
                        
                          Hated Guy full inwardly,
                          Line 4290 
                        
                          And that was for the loue of the maide
                        
                          That Guy shuld haue spoused as y you seide.
                        
                          So at mete sette is Guy:
                        
                          The Emperour him chereth gretly.
                        
                          Whiles that Guy at mete sate,
                          Line 4295 
                        
                          The lyon pleide within the yate
                        
                          In pees withoute vilanye.
                        
                          Herken now of grete felonye.

                        
                          WHANNE the Emperour had ete,
                        
                          And with Guy longe while sete,
                          Line 4300 
                        
                          With him to pley in companye [Caius MS. 107 page 111] 
                        
                          (For he loued sporte withoute vilanye),
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Ther whiles the lyon aboute is goo,
                          Line 4305 
                        
                          To reste him priuely in a sloo:
                        
                          Ayenst the sonne he slepe in a stede,
                        
                          Grete while of the day he so dede.
                        
                          Whan Guy sawe tyme his leeue he nom,
                        
                          And to his ynne he wente him hoom.
                          Line 4310 
                        
                          The lyon than folowed him noughte,
                        
                          For in the herber he slepe full softe.
                        
                          As the Styward was to his chambre goyng,
                        
                          He sawe the lyon in the herber sleping.
                        
                          Oute at a wyndowe he loked him to,
                          Line 4315

Page 249

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And in his herte he seide thoo:
                        
                          'This lyon y shall nowe slee.
                        
                          So y may best on Guy wroken bee.'
                          Line 4320 
                        
                          A sharpe wepen he forth drowe,
                        
                          And therwith the lyon he slowe.
                        
                          The lyon was afraide and vp sterte,
                        
                          As he that was to deth hurte.
                        
                          A mayde was ther, and all sighe,
                          Line 4325 
                        
                          And to the Styward she cride an highe:
                        
                          'Sir Styward,' she seide, 'that was euyl smyte.
                        
                          Harme dud he noon, god it wite!'
                        
                          The lyon ranne forth sore gronyng,
                        
                          And after him his guttes drawyng.
                          Line 4330 
                        
                          To Guyes ynne he is goo,
                        
                          In his chambre he fonde him tho:
                        
                          At his fete he felle downe in that stede:
                        
                          To haue socour he it dede.
                        
                          His handes he gan to likke gently: [Caius MS. 107 page 112] 
                          Line 4335 
                        
                          That was his loue, sikirly.
                        
                          Whan Guy the lyon wounded seigh,
                        
                          For sorowe his herte to-clef wel neigh.
                        
                          'A lorde,' he seide, 'god all-might,
                        
                          Who hath the thus euyl dight?
                          Line 4340 
                        
                          For all this Citee y ne wolde
                        
                          That my lyon thus sone dede bee sholde.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          With that Guy oute of the Chambre wonde,
                        
                          And toke his swerde in his honde,
                        
                          And to courte wente thinkyng.
                        
                          Well they sawe all by his lokyng
                          Line 4350 
                        
                          That he was right wroth:
                        
                          They all ayenst him sone gooth.

Page 251

                        
                          'LORDINGES,' quoth Guy, 'y you beseche,
                        
                          Yf any of you kanne me teche,
                        
                          Who that slowe my lyoun to-daye.'
                          Line 4355 
                        
                          All they seide, 'sir, naye.'
                        
                          As sone as he to the halle come,
                        
                          A maide in hir armes him nome.
                        
                          'Sir Guy,' she seide, 'my leef swete,
                        
                          Is thy lyon dede, or lyueth yet?
                          Line 4360 
                        
                          Thurgh the body smyten y him sighe.'
                        
                          Than besoughte of hir sir Guye,
                        
                          That she shuld concele it nought,
                        
                          But telle him, who his lyon hath to deth brought.
                        
                          And she seide that Morgadour,
                          Line 4365 
                        
                          That Styward was [with] the Emperour,
                        
                          'Thurgh the body he him smote: [Caius MS. 107 page 113] 
                        
                          His deth it was, well y wote.'
                        
                          Whan Guy herde that same feloun
                        
                          Had sleyn his lyoun,
                          Line 4370 
                        
                          Out of the halle he gan dryue,
                        
                          Fro chambre to chambre seching him blyue,
                        
                          With a naked swerde in his honde,
                        
                          Yf he may fynde him to shonde.
                        
                          To a chambre he come in a stounde:
                          Line 4375 
                        
                          Morgadour he hath therin founde
                        
                          With his neuyeu in counsaille faste:
                        
                          Whan he sawe Guy he was agaste.
                        
                          To him seide Guy: 'why hast me betrayhed,
                        
                          To grounde so my lyon leyde?
                          Line 4380 
                        
                          I did the neuere yet bot good,
                        
                          Thou false traitour of vnkynde blood.'
                        
                          Morgadour answerd to him anone,
                        
                          As a stalworth knyght shuld doon:
                        
                          'Thou lyest euen in thy tethe,
                          Line 4385 
                        
                          And therfor haue thou euyl dethe.
                        
                          Why appechest me of treeson?
                        
                          I it avowe, y slowe thy lyoun.'

Page 253

                        
                          To Guy with a knyf haue smyte he wolde,
                        
                          And Guy it defend, as a man sholde.
                          Line 4390 
                        
                          With that Guy his swerde vp heef,
                        
                          And Morgadour down right all to-cleef
                        
                          From the hede downe to the fote:
                        
                          Of that stroke ne come neuere bote.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Tho Guy lefte him there full sone,
                        
                          And come to the Emperour anone.
                        
                          To him he seide: 'sir Emperour, [Caius MS. 107 page 114] 
                        
                          I haue the serued with grete honour.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          How shuld y any lenger serue the,
                        
                          Whan thou maist not warante me,
                        
                          Vnkouthe man in thy londe,
                        
                          Hym not defende, bot spille and shonde.
                        
                          Harme me here is mykel doo;
                        
                          Therfor y shall fro the goo,
                          Line 4420 
                        
                          And in other contrees serue y wille,
                        
                          There they woll theim better acquite me tille.'

'MERCY, SIR Guy,' quoth the Emperour tho. 'Yf any of myn haue the mysdoo,

Page 255

                        
                          Suche right y shall the doo as thou wilt,
                          Line 4425 
                        
                          To make the amendes well for the gylt;
                        
                          For all they shull thy men bee,
                        
                          And at thy wille serue the.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And to-morowe right eerly
                        
                          Thou shalt my doughter spousy.'
                        
                          Guy answerd: 'therof speke nought:
                        
                          Hir to take y am not in thought;
                        
                          For, and ye hir had me yiue,
                          Line 4435 
                        
                          To haue and holde whiles y lyue,
                        
                          Than wolde thy men sey echoon,
                        
                          That wonderfull bee many oon,
                        
                          That ye had with dishonour
                        
                          Of a pouere man made their Emperour.
                          Line 4440 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Leuer me is a litell with worship
                          Line 4445 
                        
                          Than moche to welde with shenship.
                        
                          Therfor, sir, forsothe y the telle, [Caius MS. 107 page 115] 
                        
                          With you noo lenger woll y duelle.
                        
                          Wende y shall in-to my contree,
                        
                          All my frendes for to see.'
                          Line 4450 
                        
                          His leeue he tooke with that speche:
                        
                          'Sir, all-mighti god y you beteche.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 257

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Now Guy of the Emperour his leeue take hath,
                        
                          And he all weping him it yaf,
                        
                          And at the knyghtes of the Citee,
                        
                          Of theim all his leeue toke he.
                        
                          Ther men might see folke sorowyng
                          Line 4475 
                        
                          For Guy that was fro theim goyng,
                        
                          And women and children many oon:
                        
                          For him they wepe euerychoon;
                        
                          For, whiles that he was with theim in that stede,
                        
                          Of noon Enmyes they durste drede.
                          Line 4480 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

                        
                          GUYE home to his ynne is goo,
                        
                          And erly on morowe aroosse tho:
                        
                          To Englond to wende, god it wote,
                        
                          Is his purpose full and hote.
                        
                          And so Guy forth rightis is goo:
                          Line 4495 
                        
                          Therfor the Emperour was full woo;

Page 259

                        
                          And so was blancheflour the shene:
                        
                          For his loue she suffred grete teene.
                        
                          Now is Guy to Englond drawe,
                        
                          And with him heraude, his felawe.
                          Line 4500 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          In May it was as y wene,
                        
                          Whan the herbes growen grene:
                        
                          By a forest they come thoo [Caius MS. 107 page 116] 
                          Line 4505 
                        
                          Nyghe a Citee, not farre therfro.
                        
                          Than seide Guy to his meyne:
                        
                          'Goo ye nowe to the Citee,
                        
                          And ordeigne there all thing redy;
                        
                          For y shall here a while me pley,
                          Line 4510 
                        
                          For to here the foules singe.'
                        
                          Theron was tho all his deliting.
                        
                          His men theim wente to the Citee thoo,
                        
                          And Guy all alone belefte so.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Of so many thinges he bethoughte,
                        
                          That oute of his wey he was broughte.
                        
                          So longe he is forth ridyng,
                        
                          In the forest alone his wey seching:
                        
                          At laste a gronyng he herde,
                          Line 4525 
                        
                          And he ne wiste how it ferde.
                        
                          The voice seide: 'allas, allas,
                        
                          That euere y was borne to suche cas.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thider-wardis Guy him drowe,
                        
                          And, as he loked vnder a bowe,

Page 261

                        
                          The body he sawe of a knyght:
                        
                          Therof he had wonder, aplight.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Begurde he was with a good swerde,
                        
                          That was well keruyng vpon the egge.
                        
                          Guy had of him mykel reuthe,
                          Line 4545 
                        
                          And asked of him right blithe
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          His name, and where he was bore,
                        
                          And who had wounded him so sore.
                        
                          'I the bidde, telle thou me,
                        
                          And my trouthe y plighte the
                        
                          That y ne shall the harme doo [Caius MS. 107 page 117] 
                        
                          Bee thou frende, bee thou foo.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Herken nowe, sir knyght free:
                        
                          Thou shalt wite my name, and what y bee.

Page 263

                        
                          Of Gormoyse y am cleped Terry,
                        
                          The oolde Erles sone Aubry.
                          Line 4570 
                        
                          With the Duke of lorynge y haue bee,
                        
                          And serued hym at fote and knee.
                        
                          A faire doughter thanne had he
                        
                          Yonge, and ioly, and brighte of blee.
                        
                          Ouere all thing we loued in fere,
                          Line 4575 
                        
                          And of true loue plighte we were.
                        
                          For noon other she wolde me lete,
                        
                          Bot me loue hertly and swete.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To whom y was trouth-plighte,
                        
                          Oysele was hir name righte.
                          Line 4590 
                        
                          By hir lettres she sente to me
                        
                          And by tokens, that were so free,
                        
                          That, if y hir haue wolde,
                        
                          Bylyue to hir come y sholde
                        
                          Within a daye that was sette,
                          Line 4595 
                        
                          Or ellis she sholde fro me bee fette.
                        
                          Tho toward hir y gan me spede
                        
                          With thritty knyghtis of good rede:
                        
                          Eche of vs his stede bee-strode,
                        
                          And rode forthe withoute bode,
                          Line 4600 
                        
                          Where Otes and his feeres were,
                        
                          Nyghe an hundred knyghtes of grete power,
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 265

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Redy to spouse myn owne wif,
                          Line 4605 
                        
                          That y loued as my lyf.
                        
                          Whanne y to the Citee was come so [Caius MS. 107 page 118] 
                        
                          Priuely y sente for hir thoo,
                        
                          That she shuld come to me
                        
                          For all loues, and so dud shee
                          Line 4610 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          By a rope all slighlie,
                        
                          That noo man wiste but she, trulye.
                        
                          I sette hir on a mule ambling,
                          Line 4615 
                        
                          And in the wey we dud vs riding.
                        
                          And ther y dud grete childehode,
                        
                          All to longe ther we abode;
                        
                          For at our goyng oute of the Citee
                        
                          The lighte day men might see:
                          Line 4620 
                        
                          So we were knowen thoo
                        
                          And at a grete brigge, where we shuld goo.
                        
                          That y for Oysele was come,
                        
                          Hir fader it was tolde anone.
                        
                          Thurgh the Citee the crye was made
                          Line 4625 
                        
                          That y had awey the mayde ladde.
                        
                          Tho to horse the knyghtis gan wende,
                        
                          And vs ouere-toke at the brigge ende.
                        
                          There we strongly mette theim:
                        
                          Many we slowe of their men.
                          Line 4630 
                        
                          They slowe all myn in fere,
                        
                          That full good and noble knyghtis were.
                        
                          Me to take, as y you telle,
                        
                          They were full redy, bot y dud not duelle:
                        
                          I toke my lemman vpon my stede,
                          Line 4635 
                        
                          And ouere that water with her y yede.
                        
                          All that daye they dryuen me,
                        
                          Tyll they for nyghte might noo lenger see.
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 267

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          That water passe they ne dorsten, [Caius MS. 107 page 119] 
                        
                          Thanne ayene turne they musten.
                        
                          So in-to this forest y come ryding,
                        
                          Befor me my lemman guyding:
                        
                          Ine dredde robbour ne theef noon,
                          Line 4645 
                        
                          Bot all sure y wende to haue goon.
                        
                          What for waking, and for fastyng,
                        
                          And for other grete traueilling,
                        
                          For-sleped swithe sore y was,
                        
                          And felle a-slepe in this plaas.
                          Line 4650 
                        
                          Than come here .xv. outlawes stronge
                        
                          With their men, and gan me fonge.
                        
                          All sleping thus they wounded me,
                        
                          And than, for sothe y telle the,
                        
                          They toke my lemman, and ledde hir with theim
                          Line 4655 
                        
                          For goddis loue, sir, haue pitee nowe then:
                        
                          For the trouthe thou hast me plighte,
                        
                          Socour my lemman yf thou mighte,
                        
                          And, whan that y dede bee,
                        
                          Thou doo me burye, y pray the.
                          Line 4660 
                        
                          To that hille thou wende anone:
                        
                          Ther shalt thou fynde the outlawes echoon.
                        
                          And, sir, yf thou soo good bee,
                        
                          That thou might theim all slee,
                        
                          Wynne thou might a maide free:
                          Line 4665 
                        
                          In the worlde noon fairer may bee.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Nowe thou hast, sir, all herde,
                          Line 4675 
                        
                          How y was take and thus aferde.

Page 269

                        
                          Take here my sheelde, and my bronde of stele,
                        
                          And my fauchon, that biteth wele,
                        
                          All myn harneys that y am in dighte, [Caius MS. 107 page 120] 
                        
                          And socour me, gentill knyghte
                          Line 4680 
                        
                          (For y see thou art of might),
                        
                          To holde the trouthe thou hast plight.'

                        
                          THANNE stode Guy vpright:
                        
                          Full depe in his hert thoo he sight.
                        
                          He knewe Tirry for his frende,
                          Line 4685 
                        
                          That leye there in so harde a bende,
                        
                          And seide: 'sir, by trouthe myn
                        
                          That y haue plighte in hande thyn,
                        
                          With all might y shall helpe the:
                        
                          More thou ne maist aske of me.'
                          Line 4690 
                        
                          With that he hath his sheelde nome,
                        
                          And his good bronde than full sone,
                        
                          His hauberk, and his other wede,
                        
                          To the hylle in grete perille he yede.
                        
                          A logge there stonde he sighe,
                          Line 4695 
                        
                          And withoute stode a stede highe,
                        
                          That was to a bowe teyed.
                        
                          Guy grete chalange on him leyde:
                        
                          Sternely priking he come,
                        
                          His swerde he drowe oute anone,
                          Line 4700 
                        
                          And seide to theim at his in comyng:
                        
                          'Theeffis, ye bee dede, withoute lesyng.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Why slowe ye that noble knyght?
                          Line 4705 
                        
                          All ye shull dye anone right.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To the maister theef first he raughte:
                        
                          Full sone his hede awey was kaughte.

Page 271

                        
                          All he theim slowe, y you plighte, [Caius MS. 107 page 121] 
                        
                          Or any of theim arise mighte.
                        
                          Whan he theim had sleyne echoon,
                          Line 4715 
                        
                          He lepte vpon the stede anoon.
                        
                          Than he come to that mayde,
                        
                          And swetely to hir he saide,
                        
                          'No more sory thou ne bee,
                        
                          Bot arise vp, and come with me.
                          Line 4720 
                        
                          With thy lemman y shall the bringe
                        
                          Vnder the hawthorn withoute taryinge.'
                        
                          Vpon a moyle he sette hir anone,
                        
                          And to the hawthorn they come sone,
                        
                          And they the knyght there ne fonde:
                          Line 4725 
                        
                          Awey he was ledde in that stounde.
                        
                          Whan they him ne fonde, they were sory;
                        
                          For they wende full sikirly
                        
                          That lyons him had all to-drawe.
                        
                          Than loked he aboute vnder the wode shawe:
                          Line 4730 
                        
                          The trade of horse he there sighe.
                        
                          His herte to-berste for sorowe nyghe.
                        
                          The maide he bade abide there:
                        
                          After him swithe he gan fare.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy ouere-toke sone that ferde,
                        
                          And sawe foure knyghtis the knyght lede
                        
                          Ouere-thwerte a stede fast bounde,
                        
                          Ryding a paas with him that stounde.
                          Line 4740 
                        
                          To the knyghtis than Guy seide
                        
                          With faire wordes, withoute drede:
                        
                          'That lorde that made this daye,
                        
                          You worship, that best may.
                        
                          Yf it bee youre wille speke with me, [Caius MS. 107 page 122] 
                          Line 4745 
                        
                          And to my speche vnderstonde ye.
                        
                          Lordinges, y haue my trouthe plighte
                        
                          To him ye there lede, that knighte,

Page 273

                        
                          That y shall his body burye:
                        
                          So y haue him plighte, trulye.
                          Line 4750 
                        
                          Therfor with loue y you beseche
                        
                          That ye that body me beteche.'
                        
                          A knyght thoo turned to him warde,
                        
                          That was the duke of lorreys stywarde,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And seide to Guy: 'who art thou?
                        
                          As a foole thou art come hider now.
                        
                          Whiles thou comest to aske right
                        
                          Of the body of oure knyght,
                          Line 4760 
                        
                          Thou art his felawe, we the telle,
                        
                          And to Duke Otes the we lede wille:
                        
                          There ye shull bothe demed bee
                        
                          To hange highe on a galowe tree.'
                        
                          Guy answerd, 'thou mysseist:
                          Line 4765 
                        
                          By myn hede, thou it abeyest.
                        
                          Art thou beloued with Otoun,
                        
                          Haue ye all goddis malison.'
                        
                          Vpon the hede Guy him smote,
                        
                          To the girdelstede that swerde bote.
                          Line 4770 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          What shall y make a tale of nought?
                        
                          All he hath to deth brought.

Page 275

                        
                          He toke Terry in his armes twoo,
                          Line 4785 
                        
                          And ledde him forthe before him tho.
                        
                          To that hawthorn they bee fare,
                        
                          And thoo they ne fonde the mayde there.
                        
                          Lete we nowe of Guy bee stille, [Caius MS. 107 page 123] 
                        
                          And herken more if it bee your wille
                          Line 4790 
                        
                          Of the maide, how she was nome,
                        
                          And than ayene to our tale we shull come.
                        
                          Of Guyes felawes shull we telle
                        
                          As y fynde in this perchemyn felle,
                        
                          That so longe had bee in the Citee,
                          Line 4795 
                        
                          And wondred sore where Guy might bee.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Heraude of Ardern and other moo
                        
                          In-to the forest they been goo,
                          Line 4800 
                        
                          And him fynde they ne might.
                        
                          Than kaste heraude his sight:
                        
                          'A-lighte,' he seide, 'I here a gronyng,
                        
                          As it were a woman in childing.'
                        
                          And she beganne lowde to crye,
                          Line 4805 
                        
                          And heraude to hir gooth, trulye.
                        
                          To the hawthorn they come nyghe,
                        
                          And that Maide there they syghe.
                        
                          Heraude hir asked what she was,
                        
                          Bot she ne him tolde all the cas.
                          Line 4810 
                        
                          Than they toke that mayde forth,
                        
                          And homeward ayene sory they gooth;
                        
                          For they had their lorde longe soughte
                        
                          In the foreste, and fonde him noughte.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

NOWE wende we ayene to our spelle, There ye me herde beforehande telle 4820

Page 277

                        
                          Line 4820 
                        
                          How Guy and Terry, the Erles sone,
                        
                          Been to the hawthorn ayene come,
                        
                          And, whan they thider come were, [Caius MS. 107 page 124] 
                        
                          They ne fonde the mayde there.
                        
                          Guy lefte there Terry,
                          Line 4825 
                        
                          And wente to seche the mayde hastly,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And he hir fynde than ne may:
                          Line 4835 
                        
                          Homeward, forsothe, he toke his way,
                        
                          And with him toke that knyght:
                        
                          Vpon his stede he ledde him right.
                        
                          Come he is in-to the Citee:
                        
                          His men all sory than fonde he,
                          Line 4840 
                        
                          And, whan they sawe their lorde come,
                        
                          Gladde they were all and some.
                        
                          'Lordinges,' he seide, 'take this body,
                        
                          To grounde ye it ley softely.'
                        
                          The body they toke of that knyght,
                          Line 4845 
                        
                          Vpon palle they leyde downe right.
                        
                          Guy than sente for leches,
                        
                          The best in the Citee he forseches.
                        
                          'Lordingis,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me.
                        
                          Yf ye this knyght that ye here see,
                          Line 4850 
                        
                          May his woundes sikirly hele,
                        
                          Ye shall haue good rewardis with a mery mele.
                        
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Page 279

                        
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                          The leches seide that they him hele wolde;
                        
                          With goddis helpe they it doo sholde.
                        
                          Thanne anone herde Guy
                        
                          Noyse, weping, and grete cry.
                        
                          His Chambreleyn he cleped him to,
                          Line 4865 
                        
                          And all wrothly he asked him tho
                        
                          Who it was that the noyse made.
                        
                          'Goo in to theim, and bidde theim bee glade.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seide, 'a faire mayde it is [Caius MS. 107 page 125] 
                        
                          That heraude fonde in the forest, ywis,
                          Line 4870 
                        
                          Vnder an hawthorn in the foreste.'
                        
                          'Lete me hir see,' quoth Guy, 'in haste.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The Chambreleyn is forth goon,
                          Line 4875 
                        
                          And bringeth hir before Guy anoon.
                        
                          Guy hir knewe, and gan hir grete:
                        
                          'Well founde, my leef swete.'
                        
                          But euere she wepte, and 'allas' seide:
                        
                          All they had reuthe of that mayde.
                          Line 4880 
                        
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Page 281

                        
                          ON A DAYE, as they come fro huntyng,
                          Line 4905 
                        
                          Guy seide to Terry, withoute lesyng:
                        
                          'I woll that we bee trouthe-plight,
                        
                          And sworen brothers bee-come nowe right,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          That neither of vs neuere moo
                        
                          Faille other in wele nor woo.'
                        
                          Than answerd the Erle Terry:
                        
                          'Full hertly, sir Guy.
                        
                          Now thou so gretly louest me,
                          Line 4915 
                        
                          That thou my sworne brother wolt bee,
                        
                          I woll neuere, certaine, faille the
                        
                          For noo-thing that may bee-falle me.
                        
                          Grete helpe y haue had of the:
                        
                          God lete me yet that daye see
                          Line 4920 
                        
                          That y it the may yelde
                        
                          To thy pleasur in towne or feelde.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Truthe betwene theim there they plighte,
                        
                          And after kyste anone righte.

Page 283

                        
                          Forthe they wente in-to that Citee [Caius MS. 107 page 126] 
                        
                          With ioye, and myrthe, and moche glee.
                          Line 4930 
                        
                          Guy after that made him redy
                        
                          In-to Englonde to fare, truly.
                        
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                          It was vpon a somers daye,
                        
                          Guy oute at a wyndowe laye.
                          Line 4940 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          As he lay, come ridyng a knyghte:
                        
                          Full wery he semed by all sighte,
                        
                          That oute of farre contrey trauailled were.
                          Line 4945 
                        
                          Guy to him cleped there:
                        
                          'Sir knyght,' he seide, 'fro whens comest thou?
                        
                          And what thou sechest telle me now.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Terry of Gormoyse y goo seching,
                        
                          The Erles sone Aubrey well doyng.
                        
                          Thurgh many londe y haue him soughte.,
                        
                          'Wherto?' quoth Guy, 'couere it noughte.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seide, 'thou shalt wite sone
                          Line 4955 
                        
                          The grete trespasse that was doone.'
                        
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Page 285

                        
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                          'Sir knyght,' seide Guy,
                        
                          'Here with vs thou herborugh, truly,
                        
                          And of the Erle Terry y shall the telle
                        
                          Yf y ought kanne, my frende, withoute duelle.'
                        
                          'Graunt mercy, sir,' seide he.
                          Line 4985 
                        
                          'Of him to here leef were me.'
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

                        
                          WHANNE they had ete and dronke to,
                        
                          In grete gladnesse they were tho.
                        
                          Thanne seide the Erle Terry:
                        
                          'For loue y prey the, sir Guy,
                        
                          That thou to my Contree come with me, [Caius MS. 107 page 127] 
                          Line 4995 
                        
                          As we sworne brethern bee.
                        
                          My fader to helpe we vs spede;
                        
                          For to helpe he hath grete nede.'

Page 287

                        
                          'I shall the neuere faille,' quoth Guy,
                        
                          'While the lif lasteth in my body.'
                        
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                          Full gladde was therle Aubry
                        
                          For the comyng of his sone Terry,
                          Line 5020 
                        
                          And ouere all other of Guyes comyng,
                        
                          That good knyght was, withoute lesing.
                        
                          So longe to bataille they been goo,
                        
                          That betwene theim moche sorowe is doo
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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Page 305

                        
                          LORDINGES,' seide the duke Otoun,
                          Line 5635 
                        
                          'Vnderstonde to my resoun.
                        
                          Well ye wite Terry, that here is,
                        
                          Hath agilted the Duke loyer, ywis,
                        
                          That him forth bredde, and armes yaf,
                        
                          And euyl him aquytte he hath,
                          Line 5640 
                        
                          Whan he bringeth vnkouthe folke moche
                        
                          Vpon his lorde so dedeliche.
                        
                          Bot y haue besoughte the Duke so
                        
                          With my frendes also,
                        
                          That foryiue him hath he for euere moo,
                          Line 5645 
                        
                          And grete worship he woll him doo.'
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 307

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thanne seide the Duke loer:
                        
                          'Vnderstonde all that been heer,
                        
                          That the Erle sir Terry,
                          Line 5665 
                        
                          Aubry sone, that is here by,
                        
                          That he the mayde Oysell shall spousy, [Caius MS. 107 page 128] 
                        
                          And in goddis lawe lyue, truly.
                        
                          Accorded we bee to that dede,
                        
                          And foryiue is all hatrede.'
                          Line 5670 
                        
                          Thanne hath the Duke kyste Terry
                        
                          Of grete treason, and not frendly.
                        
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Page 309

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy and heraude that mayde doo lede
                        
                          Oysel she highte with rodyes rede.
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          At laste seide Otes of Pauye:
                        
                          'Herken to me, my companye.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          By the rede of the Duke Loer
                        
                          I commaunde you all that bee heer
                        
                          That ye Guy, Terry, and heraude bynde
                        
                          Faste their handes theim behynde.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          Anone they assailled Terry,
                        
                          And toke him full hastly,
                        
                          And heraude, that was so good of might,
                          Line 5715 
                        
                          Theim twoo they toke agayne right.
                        
                          But Guy vp sterte full hastly,
                        
                          And to theim spake boldely.
                        
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Page 311

                        
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                          With that forth sterte anone right
                        
                          Otes Cousyn, a noble knyghte.
                        
                          Guy by the mantell he plighte so
                          Line 5735 
                        
                          That the tassels brake in two.
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy sawe it might noon other bee:
                        
                          To him that helde him tourned he,
                        
                          And raughte him suche a buffet tho,
                        
                          That his nekke brake in two.
                          Line 5745 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy defended him well and strongly
                        
                          With the helpe of god to him redy.
                        
                          Smartly they gonne him assaille, [Caius MS. 107 page 129] 
                        
                          And he him defended euere in bataille,
                        
                          So that at laste he come to his stede:
                          Line 5755 
                        
                          To him he ranne as man that had nede.

Page 313

                        
                          Withoute styrope he lepe theron:
                        
                          Many he made leue their liffis anoon.

                        
                          THANNE the Duke seigh
                        
                          That Guy on horse aweyward fleigh,
                          Line 5760 
                        
                          Anone he seide to his knyghtes:
                        
                          'Now to horse with all your mightes.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Take ye Guy, and that anone,
                          Line 5765 
                        
                          As ye woll haue my loue echoone.
                        
                          Who that dede or lyuyng him bringeth me to,
                        
                          A thousand besauntȝ he shall haue and moo.'
                        
                          To horse they wente in all haste,
                        
                          And dryuen Guy swithe faste,
                          Line 5770 
                        
                          And Guy hadde wepen noon:
                        
                          Wolde good, that made man,
                        
                          That he had had his bronde keruyng!
                        
                          For he had there noo frende helping.
                        
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Page 315

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy fledde fro theim a smarte paas:
                        
                          Though he were a-feerde noo wonder was.
                        
                          With that he sawe a knaue comyng,
                        
                          As god it wolde in that thring,
                          Line 5800 
                        
                          That a grete staffe on his shulder bare,
                        
                          And Guy fulfeyre besoughte him there
                        
                          That he wolde the staffe him yiue,
                        
                          And he wolde him acquite yf he dud lyue.
                        
                          'Ye, sir,' quoth he, 'by sainte Michell, [Caius MS. 107 page 130] 
                        
                          Haue him here and bere the well.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          With that a lombard Guy ther mette,
                        
                          And with the staffe so he him grette,
                        
                          That dede he him felde right anone.
                        
                          He toke that horse, and gan to gone,
                        
                          And seide to that knaue thoo:
                          Line 5815 
                        
                          'Haue thou this horse, and thy wey goo.'
                        
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Page 317

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And Guy him gooth to a water yerne,
                        
                          And ouere he gooth with goddis sterne.
                          Line 5840 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Ayene than they bee come
                          Line 5845 
                        
                          To the Duke Otes all and some,
                        
                          And tolde him all the sothe anone,
                        
                          How Guy is ouere the water goone.
                        
                          Than is the Duke Otes full sory
                        
                          That so with lif escaped is Guy.
                          Line 5850 
                        
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Page 321

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          But that mayde was glad, sikirly,
                        
                          That Guy was so goon, truly,
                        
                          So as he escaped was;
                        
                          For well she hoped by some cas
                          Line 5940 
                        
                          He wolde bringe by some Kaste
                        
                          Oute of prison hir lemman in haste.
                        
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                          TO TELLE OF Guy y haue thoughte
                        
                          How god him hath fro deth broughte.
                        
                          Whan he was passed that Ryuer sterne
                          Line 5955 
                        
                          He loked him aboute full yerne.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Lorde god,' he seide, 'what may [y] doo?
                        
                          Wery wrecche, whider may y goo?
                          Line 5960 
                        
                          Now y haue loste the Erle Terry [Caius MS. 107 page 131] 
                        
                          And Heraude, my maister, y am sory.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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Page 323

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy forthe wente his waye,
                        
                          And rode mournyng all that daye,
                        
                          So longe that he a Castell seigh
                        
                          Vpon a roche stonding on heigh.
                          Line 5990 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          As he to the gate come
                        
                          A yonge knyght he fonde there anone.
                        
                          Mikell he was, hende, and free:
                          Line 5995 
                        
                          Felawes he had with him three.
                        
                          Guy sawe by their semblant anone
                        
                          That he was lorde of theim echone.
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'vnderstonde me.
                        
                          The lorde, that made bothe sonde and see,
                          Line 6000 
                        
                          The saue and blisse euermo,
                        
                          In-to what contree that ye goo.
                        
                          I am a knyght of farre contree,
                        
                          And herborough y aske for charite.'
                        
                          The lorde answerd full swetely,
                          Line 6005 
                        
                          'Ye shall haue, full hertly.'
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 325

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          By the honde he toke than Guy,
                        
                          And in-to the halle yeden they.
                          Line 6010 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          The lorde with that to him seyde,
                        
                          'I the bidde, sir, at this breyde
                        
                          That thy name thou telle me,
                        
                          And not couere it, y pray the.'
                          Line 6020 
                        
                          Guy answerd full louely,
                        
                          'My name y telle the blithely:
                        
                          Guy of Warrewik my name is.
                        
                          Euyl y am a-combred, ywis.'
                        
                          Whan the lorde herde that, [Caius MS. 107 page 132] 
                          Line 6025 
                        
                          That it was Guy that by him sat,
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyde, 'welcome to me:
                        
                          In your owne herburgh ye bee.
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Amys of Champeyn my name is:
                        
                          Well ye oughte to knowe me, ywis.
                          Line 6040 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Amys, 'fro whens comest thou,
                        
                          That ye goo thus allone nowe?

Page 327

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Where is heraude, that knyght free,
                        
                          And all thy knyghtes of grete bountee?'
                        
                          'I shall the telle, sir,' quoth Guy.
                        
                          'No wonder is though y bee sory.'
                          Line 6050 
                        
                          Than tolde he him that cas,
                        
                          How the Erle Terry wounded was,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And how the parlement was nome,
                        
                          And how thurgh treason they were ouerecome,
                        
                          And how Terry was take thoo
                        
                          And the good heraude also,
                          Line 6060 
                        
                          And with theim .v. hundred knyghtis,
                        
                          Orped men and stronge in fightes.
                        
                          'I ne wote whether they bee dede or alyue:
                        
                          All y sawe theim ledde forthe blyue.'

                        
                          WHANNE Guy had tolde all the cas,
                          Line 6065 
                        
                          How euyll tho him befalle was,
                        
                          'Suffre awhile, sir,' quoth he.
                        
                          'And it bee thy wille vnderstonde me.
                        
                          I haue Castelles and townes stronge:
                        
                          Haue thou right, haue thou wronge,
                          Line 6070 
                        
                          All y shall theim betake the,
                        
                          And my knyghtes y shall sende for to me.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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Page 329

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Amys,' quoth Guy, 'god yelde it the, [Caius MS. 107 page 133] 
                          Line 6085 
                        
                          The goodnesse that thou proferst me.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Hastilier of him awreke y hope bee:
                        
                          For doubte of deth y woll not flee.'
                          Line 6090 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy toke his leeue thoo,
                          Line 6095 
                        
                          Toward Pauye for to goo,
                        
                          And seide, 'Amys, y beseche the,
                        
                          A stede that thou wolt yiue me.'
                        
                          And Amys anone, withoute doubte,
                        
                          Made him chese the beste in the route.
                          Line 6100 
                        
                          Oon he toke, and lepte vpon:
                        
                          Sadell ne house he wolde noon.
                        
                          So Guy him dighte in newe aqueyntise,
                        
                          And come to Pauye in a wonder guyse.
                        
                          An oignement than purchassed he
                          Line 6105 
                        
                          That made his visage oute of blee.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Noo man was so wise of sighte
                        
                          That afterward him knowe mighte.
                          Line 6110 
                        
                          To Pauy than Guy come is:
                        
                          Of noo man he afferde is.
                        
                          The Duke Otes he fonde there,
                        
                          And he him grette in this manere:
                        
                          'Sir Duke,' he seide, 'god saue the:
                          Line 6115 
                        
                          As y it wolde so mote it bee.

Page 331

                        
                          A man y am of farre contree:
                        
                          Hyder y am come to seche the.
                        
                          Broughte y haue the a stede,
                        
                          In all the worlde is noo better at nede.
                          Line 6120 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Yf ye me therof doo not beleue
                        
                          I shall him assaye for the more preoue.'
                          Line 6130 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Quoth the duke: 'sir, moult graunt mercy. [Caius MS. 107 page 134] 
                        
                          This is a faire yifte, sikirly.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To suche an horse y haue nede,
                        
                          That y might the better spede,
                        
                          And on my foomen bee a-wreke;
                        
                          And some in my prison been steke,
                        
                          Bot oon eskaped is fro me.
                          Line 6145 
                        
                          That wolde god all men might him here see,
                        
                          That he were nowe in my halle:
                        
                          Grete woo him shuld sone befalle.
                        
                          To morowe he shuld hanged bee
                        
                          With good wille, y telle it the.'
                          Line 6150 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'who may that bee?
                        
                          In full grete perill stondeth he.'

Page 333

                        
                          'I shall the telle,' quoth the Duke tho.
                        
                          'Guy of Warrewik, that is my foo.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth he, 'well knowe y Guy.
                        
                          I wolde that he stode the by.
                        
                          He slowe oon of my nyghe kyn;
                        
                          Therfor y am yet wrothe with him,
                          Line 6160 
                        
                          And the Erle Tirry also:
                        
                          I hate him as my dedely foo.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          God lete me neuere dede bee
                          Line 6165 
                        
                          Till him at my wille y see.'
                        
                          'Frende,' quoth the Duke Otoun,
                        
                          'I haue Terry here in my prisoun.
                        
                          Now thou shalt loke him to,
                        
                          And all shame thou him doo.'
                          Line 6170 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth he, 'graunt mercy,
                        
                          And y the sey sikirly
                        
                          That his lif y shall tourne and wende [Caius MS. 107 page 135] 
                        
                          Or come this seuen nyght to an ende.'
                        
                          The duke doth him than the keyes take,
                          Line 6175 
                        
                          And maister Iayler he doth him make.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          An house the Duke deliuered him thoo
                        
                          That noo thing was in bot they two.
                        
                          The Duke noo-thing the sothe wiste,
                        
                          That he was Guy, ne noo man nyste.
                        
                          Therfor all his wille he might doo,
                          Line 6185 
                        
                          That noo man shuld speke him to.
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 337

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          As sone as the tyme come,
                          Line 6275 
                        
                          Guy is in-to the Citee goon:
                        
                          Mete enough he boughte there,
                        
                          And to Terry he did it bere.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          All his bondes he doth awey,
                        
                          And socoureth him bothe nyghte and daye.
                        
                          In-to the chambre than wente he,
                        
                          Whan he his tyme did see,
                        
                          To comforte that mayde well,
                          Line 6285 
                        
                          That in grete sorowe abode euery dele.
                        
                          Guy seide to the maide free,
                        
                          'Full well thou aughtest to knowe me:
                        
                          Guy of Warrewik my name is,
                        
                          I am thy lemmans felawe, ywis.'
                          Line 6290 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan that maide herde this,
                        
                          That it was Guy, forsothe ywis,

Page 339

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Mercy, sir,' seide that faire may,
                        
                          'Now within this thirde day
                        
                          Herin y shall spoused bee;
                          Line 6305 
                        
                          But of oon thing rather y haue thought me,
                        
                          That y shall my-self slee [Caius MS. 107 page 136] 
                        
                          That day he shall spouse me.'
                        
                          Guy answerd and seide, 'not so:
                        
                          All his wille thou shalt feyne to doo,
                          Line 6310 
                        
                          And or he come to the Chirche yate
                        
                          Of other thinges he shall lakke:
                        
                          His hede fro the body shall flee,
                        
                          And forthe the lede y shall with me.'
                        
                          Guy fro thens he is goon,
                          Line 6315 
                        
                          And as sone as he might come
                        
                          To the geayle anone he yede,
                        
                          And Terry than therof deliuered.
                        
                          'Sir Terry,' he seide, 'now forthe thou goo
                        
                          (Nighte nor day spare thou noo)
                          Line 6320 
                        
                          Right to Amys of the Mountaigne,
                        
                          That duelleth in the marches of Almaigne.
                        
                          On my behalue grete him swithe,
                        
                          And soiourne there, and make the blithe,
                        
                          Tyll y come, or other man for me.'
                          Line 6325 
                        
                          'Blithely, sir,' quoth Tirry the free.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy lete him adowne of the towre thoo,
                        
                          Betaughte him to god, and lete him goo.

Page 341

                        
                          Guy abode, and Terry forthe wente:
                        
                          Nighte ne daye he ne stente.
                        
                          So longe he is forthe goon,
                          Line 6335 
                        
                          Till he to the Mountaigne is come.
                        
                          A castell ther was faire with-all,
                        
                          And a faire Citee closed with stone walle.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          In-to that Citee he yede thoo,
                        
                          The chief palays he come to.
                          Line 6344 
                        
                          He fonde Amys at Chesse pleying [Caius MS. 107 page 137] 
                        
                          With his felawes, faire game holding.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Tirry, 'yf thy wylle bee,
                        
                          A worde y muste speke with the
                        
                          All priuely, y you beseche,
                        
                          That thise men here not oure speche.'
                        
                          Amys answerth, 'full gladly:
                          Line 6355 
                        
                          I shall come to you full blithely.'
                        
                          Fro the Chesses he rosse tho,
                        
                          And to a wyndowe he cleped him to.
                        
                          'Sir Amys,' seide Tirry,
                        
                          'Ofte sithes you grette sir Guy;
                          Line 6360 
                        
                          And hider to you he sente me,
                        
                          For to soiourne here with the,
                        
                          Till that he may thider come,
                        
                          Or some other for him right sone.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Amys, 'moche thanke haue he,
                          Line 6365 
                        
                          That he the sente hider to me.
                        
                          What is your name, sir free?'
                        
                          'I shall you telle, sir,' quoth hee.

Page 343

                        
                          'Terry of Gormoyse my name is,
                        
                          Escaped stronge prison, y-wis.'
                          Line 6370 
                        
                          'Sir Terry,' thanne seide he,
                        
                          'Thou art well-come in-to this contree.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Thense he shuld for noo thing,
                        
                          Till he of Guy had some tidyng.

                        
                          OFF THE Duke y shall you telle,
                          Line 6385 
                        
                          And of Guy, if it bee your wille.
                        
                          The Duke sente for his barons in haste, [Caius MS. 107 page 138] 
                        
                          That they shull come all to his feste
                        
                          In-to the Citee of Pauye,
                        
                          All the knightes of lombardye.
                          Line 6390 
                        
                          Whan the tyme come was,
                        
                          The Duke so gladde neuere nas.
                        
                          To the maide he come swithe,
                        
                          As he that was gladde and blithe.
                        
                          'Lemman, all redy make thou the;
                          Line 6395 
                        
                          This day thou shalt spoused bee.'
                        
                          'Sir,' she seide, 'with good wille
                        
                          All thy heestes y shall fulfille.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 345

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Toward the Chirche wente he,
                          Line 6405 
                        
                          With ioye to spouse the mayde free.
                        
                          Guy armeth him full hastly
                        
                          At his wille full stalworthly.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          A good stede he bee-strode,
                        
                          And after theim faste rode.
                        
                          Whan he theim had ouere-take,
                        
                          Contenaunce of loue he did noon make.
                        
                          'Duke Otes,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me:
                          Line 6415 
                        
                          Ne goo noo farther, y hote the.
                        
                          Remembre the of the treason
                        
                          That thou did to me Guyon,
                        
                          As he come fro a turnement,
                        
                          Betwene Pauy and Boneuent;
                          Line 6420 
                        
                          And sithe thou didist him grete treason,
                        
                          Whan thou toke Terry in-to thy prison;
                        
                          And heraude and his feeres echoon,
                        
                          All thou made theim in prison bee doon.
                          Line 6424 
                        
                          I am the same Guy, that to the speke: [Caius MS. 107 page 139] 
                        
                          Now y shall therof bee a-wreke.'
                        
                          Thurgh the body he him smote anone
                        
                          Before the lombardes euerychoon,
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And toke the mayde in his armes two,
                        
                          And sette hir before him, and con goo.
                        
                          Fast a-weyward than rode he:
                          Line 6435 
                        
                          The noyse anone arosse in the Citee.
                        
                          With grete [strengthe] they folowed Guy,
                        
                          And he rode forth hastely
                        
                          And whan they him ne ouere-take might,
                        
                          Ayene they come to the body right.

                          Line 6440

Page 349

                        
                          Line 6440 
                        
                          So longe forthe roden they,
                        
                          Tyll they come to that Citee
                        
                          Of Mountaigne, that so faire was,
                          Line 6515 
                        
                          And in they wente with ioye and solas.
                        
                          Whan Guy in-to the halle come,
                        
                          Amys him knewe anone,
                        
                          And anone to him seide he,
                        
                          'Sir Guy, well-come thou bee.'
                          Line 6520 
                        
                          Whan the Erle Tyrry sawe sir Guy there
                        
                          And Oysell, that was him leef and dere,
                        
                          Moche ioye he made to Guy thoo,
                        
                          That maide he toke in his armes two.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Amonges theim was moche blisse,
                        
                          And there they soiourned, y-wis,
                          Line 6540 
                        
                          At their wille in solas:
                        
                          Amys theim fonde all that nede was.

                        
                          ON A DAYE bethoughte Guy the free
                        
                          That longe soiourned ther haue they.
                        
                          Amys he cleped and Terry: [Caius MS. 107 page 140] 
                        
                          'Herken to me,' seide Guy.
                        
                          'Tyme is that we vs dighte
                        
                          To helpe our felawes anone righte,

Page 351

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Oute of prison theim to bringe:
                          Line 6553 
                        
                          I nolde theim lete for noo thinge.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Amys, 'y shall goo with the,
                        
                          And .v. hundred of knyghtis bringe with me.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          'Graunt mercy,' seyde sir Guy,
                        
                          'On the y truste, sikerly.'
                          Line 6562 
                        
                          Amys sente for his knyghtis anone:
                        
                          Assembled he hath theim euery-chone.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan they were all redy
                        
                          Forth they wente all hastely.
                        
                          Toward Gormoyse as they gooth
                        
                          In lorenge grete harme they dooth:
                          Line 6570 
                        
                          They take Castelles and Citees,
                        
                          And so destroyeth all the Contrees.
                        
                          To Gormoyse than they bee come:
                        
                          Gladde they bee all and some,
                        
                          And ouere all other the Erle Aubry,
                          Line 6575 
                        
                          Whan he sawe his sone Tyrry:
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          There was ioye and moche blisse
                        
                          Betwene the fader and the sone, y-wis.
                          Line 6580 
                        
                          Eche tolde other all his thoughte,
                        
                          And how Guy hath him fro deth broughte.
                        
                          Guy heraude foryete neuere a dele,
                        
                          Assembled he hath knyghtis fele.

Page 353

                        
                          The Duke he harme gretly doo:
                          Line 6585 
                        
                          He thoughte for to a-wreke him thoo.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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Page 355

Page 357

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          So longe they haue entreted so, [Caius MS. 107 page 141] 
                        
                          With theim the Erle Amys also,
                        
                          That all they accorded bee,
                        
                          And for euere-more betwene theim treus and equite.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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Page 367

Page 369

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Than Guy noo lenger wolde duelle,
                        
                          But in-to his Contree retour se appele.

                        
                          GUYE OF the Duke his leeue take wolde,
                          Line 7035 
                        
                          And he by his wille him yiue nolde.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          To the Erle Terry he yede tho,
                        
                          And thise wordes he seide him to:
                          Line 7040 
                        
                          'Sir Terry,' seide Guy,
                        
                          'Now y shall goo, sikirly,
                        
                          To my Contree in-to Englonde
                        
                          (Of that wey y may not withstonde),
                        
                          My fader and my frendes to see:
                          Line 7045 
                        
                          I ne wote if they alyue bee.
                        
                          Seuen yere and more goon it is
                        
                          That y was in my contreee, ywis.
                        
                          And if it bee-tyde so
                        
                          That thou haue any nede me to,
                          Line 7050 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 371

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Anone right sende after me,
                        
                          And y shall sone come to the.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
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Page 373

                        
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                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Ne were the loue of my lemman,
                          Line 7105 
                        
                          I wolde neuere departe the fram.
                        
                          Therfor y woll not lette my wey
                        
                          At this tyme, truly, for to dey.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          At the departyng of theim two in fere
                        
                          Grete pitee was to see and here.

                        
                          GUYE lepe vpon a moyle amblyng,
                        
                          In the wey he doth him fast ryding.
                          Line 7120 
                        
                          Terry belefte sorowe makyng [Caius MS. 107 page 142] 
                        
                          For Guy his felawes wendyng.
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 375

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Guy ne stynte neuere ryding,
                          Line 7125 
                        
                          Till he come to the see, withoute lesyng.
                        
                          Good wynde he hath and passeth sone:
                        
                          In-to Englond he cometh than anone.
                        
                          To Warrewik he gan him goo,
                        
                          There kyng Athelston was thoo.
                          Line 7130 
                        
                          Whan he was to Warrewik come,
                        
                          With ioye he was welcome to all and some.
                        
                          The kyng ayenst him is goo
                        
                          With knyghtes and burgeys also;
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          And with him soiourned Guy the free,
                        
                          And on a day at Chesses pleyden they:
                        
                          Foure men ther come to theim riding,
                        
                          Men of the contree free holding:
                          Line 7140 
                        
                          To the king they seide, 'sir, vnderstonde:
                        
                          Harde tidinges we bringe the on honde.
                        
                          Bot ye sone take kepe therto,
                        
                          All your londe ye shull forgoo.
                        
                          There is come vpon thy londe
                          Line 7145 
                        
                          A beest that woll it all shonde.
                        
                          Oute of Irlonde men seith it come:
                        
                          Full moche harme hit hath doon;
                        
                          For it leueth man ne woman noon,
                        
                          Bot theim sleeth euery-choon.
                          Line 7150 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          It eteth the beestes and men also:
                        
                          This is trouth we telle you to.
                        
                          Neuere was noo best so kene.
                          Line 7155 
                        
                          Grete heued it hath and grisely to sene.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 377

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          As a somer he is brested on brede, [Caius MS. 107 page 143] 
                        
                          And renneth swifter than any stede.
                        
                          He hath chaules as a lyoun.
                          Line 7165 
                        
                          Men seith it as a dragon.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          The taille is grete and full long:
                        
                          In the worlde nys man so strong,
                        
                          Bee he armed neuer so,
                        
                          And he with taille smyte him to,
                        
                          Bot he shalbee dede anone:
                          Line 7175 
                        
                          Ne shuld he neuere thense goone.'

                        
                          WHANNE the king herde all this
                        
                          That the men had tolde him, y-wis,
                        
                          A good while he sate in thoughte,
                        
                          That longe tyme speke he ne mighte.
                          Line 7180 
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'kare the noughte,
                        
                          Ne therfor take noo grete thoughte.
                        
                          In-to Northumberlond y shall wende,
                        
                          And if [y] may that best fynde,
                        
                          I him shall ouer-come with goddis mighte;
                          Line 7185 
                        
                          For with him, sothly, y shall fighte.'
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Of the king his leeue he nome,
                          Line 7195 
                        
                          And to his Inne he yede home.

Page 379

                        
                          He lefte his felawes ther echon:
                        
                          Ther muste noon with him goon
                        
                          Bot heraude, that was good at nede,
                        
                          And other twoo knyghtis armed on stede.
                          Line 7200 
                        
                          Whan they bee thider come,
                        
                          And knowe where the beest doth wone,
                        
                          Guy armed him, surely,
                        
                          And seide to his folke hastely
                        
                          That so hardy ther bee noon [Caius MS. 107 page 144] 
                          Line 7205 
                        
                          A fote farther for to goon.
                        
                          Guy is in-to a launde goo
                        
                          Where the dragon woned tho.
                        
                          Whan Guy sawe him so grisely,
                        
                          Of him he was not all trusty.
                          Line 7210 
                        
                          With a spere he him smote strangly,
                        
                          That was keruyng sharply.
                        
                          The spere to shyuers al to-flighe,
                        
                          And the body ne come it not nyghe.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . .

Page 381

Page 383

                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Benethe the wynges he him smote:
                        
                          Thurgh the body that swerde bote,
                        
                          That the body he karf in two:
                        
                          Dede he felled him to grounde tho.
                        
                          Hit gradde and yelled swithe lowde,
                          Line 7285 
                        
                          That it schilled in-to the clowde.
                        
                          Guy withdrowe him therfro anone
                        
                          For the stenche that therof come.
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          . . . . . 
                        
                          Whan that beest ther dede laye,
                        
                          For sothe telle y you may,
                        
                          That folke it mette of the contree
                        
                          How longe it was: wonder to see,
                        
                          Thritty fote longe of mesur he was,
                          Line 7295 
                        
                          And not an ynche more ne lasse.
                        
                          The hede he smote the body fro,
                        
                          And forthe with him it bare tho.
                        
                          Come he is to his felaw-rede,
                        
                          That for him were in moche drede.
                          Line 7300 
                        
                          To Warrewik than he is wente,
                        
                          With that hede the king to presente.
                        
                          The kyng was blithe and glad of chere [Caius MS. 107 page 145] 
                        
                          That he sawe Guy hole and fere.

Page 385

                        
                          At Warrewik he henge that hede anone:
                          Line 7305 
                        
                          Many wondred theron anone full sone.
                        
                          Guy of the king his leeue nome,
                        
                          In-to his contree to wende home.
                        
                          To Walingford he is come,
                        
                          His free men there he fonde some,
                          Line 7310 
                        
                          That of him were blithe alle
                        
                          That of him they herde so telle.

Page 387

                        
                          To Warrewik he is than ryde
                        
                          To the Erle, that moche honour him dide,
                        
                          And all thoo of that contree
                          Line 7315 
                        
                          For his comyng gladde were they.
                        
                          The Erle him honoured and all his:
                        
                          Withoute him ne kouthe he bee, y-wys.
                        
                          An huntyng they wente bothe in-fere
                        
                          To the wodes and to the Ryuer.
                          Line 7320 
                        
                          Guy to his lemman is than goo,
                        
                          All his lif he tolde hir thoo.
                        
                          'Sir Guy,' she seide, 'graunt mercy!
                        
                          And y the sey sikirly
                        
                          That y haue desired bee

                          Line 7325

Page 389

                        
                          Line 7325 
                        
                          Of the richest of this contree,
                        
                          And noon to loue nas my wille,
                        
                          Ne neuer noon loue y nelle
                        
                          Bot the, to whom y yiue me:
                        
                          To thy wille y shall alweys bee.'
                          Line 7330 
                        
                          Guy hir kiste; so gladde he was,
                        
                          Neuere more ioyefull of noo cas.
                        
                          At hir than his leeue he nome, [Caius MS. 107 page 146] 
                        
                          And to his Inne he wente home.
                        
                          Nyghte and day he made solas,
                          Line 7335 
                        
                          Of hir loue thoo he siker was.

                        
                          THE ERLE on a day cleped his doghter to:
                        
                          Bifore hir moder he seide hir tho,
                        
                          'Doughter, thou take the an housebonde.
                        
                          Thou art heire to all my londe.
                          Line 7340 
                        
                          Dukes and Erles desire the,
                        
                          That come oute of farre contree:
                        
                          Noon of theim thou wolt take.
                        
                          How longe wolt thou bee withoute make?'

Page 391

                        
                          'Sir, y shall bethinke me,
                          Line 7345 
                        
                          And telle you within thise dayes three.'
                        
                          Whan that it come to the thirde day
                        
                          The Erle cleped forth that faire may,
                        
                          Felice, that was so wise and free:
                        
                          'Thy wille, doughter, telle thou me.'
                          Line 7350 
                        
                          'Sir,' she seide well louely,
                        
                          'My wille y telle the blithely.
                        
                          There is Guy, your owne knyghte:
                        
                          In the worlde ther nys man of his mighte.
                        
                          Bot if y haue him to my make
                          Line 7355 
                        
                          I woll neuere noon take.'
                        
                          'Thou seist well, doughter,' seide he;
                        
                          'Blissed of god mote thou bee!
                        
                          And to him therof speke y shall,
                        
                          And his answer therof the telle.'
                          Line 7360 
                        
                          'Guy,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me.
                        
                          Telle me thy wille, y bidde the:

Page 393

                        
                          Yf thou thinke to wedde a wif [Caius MS. 107 page 147] 
                        
                          Telle it me, my leef lyf.'
                        
                          Guy him answerd fote hote,
                          Line 7365 
                        
                          'In all the worlde noo woman y wote
                        
                          That y shall take bot it bee oon,
                        
                          That toucheth me in herte alloon.'
                        
                          'Guy,' he seide, 'vnderstonde me:
                        
                          A doughter y haue, that wite ye.
                          Line 7370 
                        
                          Noon heire y haue bot that may:
                        
                          Riche she shalbee after my day.
                        
                          Guy, take hir; y yiue hir the,
                        
                          And of all my londe lorde thou bee.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quoth Guy, 'graunt mercy!
                          Line 7375 
                        
                          This is a faire yifte, sikirly.
                        
                          Thy doughter well leuere me is
                        
                          In hir smokke alone, ywis,
                        
                          Than to wedde with all spaigne
                        
                          The Emperours doughter of Almaigne.'

                          Line 7380

Page 395

                        
                          WHANNE the tyme was come
                        
                          Assembled there was many a gome,
                        
                          Dukes, and Erles, and knyghtis many oon
                        
                          That to the spousaille were boden echoon.
                        
                          That mayde was dighte full richely,
                          Line 7385 
                        
                          And with grete worship hir spoused Guy.
                        
                          Whereto shuld y of more discrye?
                        
                          Of all manere thinges ther was grete plente.

Page 397

Page 399

                        
                          It was in may in somers tyde:
                        
                          Guy was at Warrewik in moche pride.
                          Line 7390 
                        
                          From huntyng on a daye he is come, [Caius MS. 107 page 148] 
                        
                          Grete plente of venyson he hath nome.
                        
                          Moche ioye he made and solas,
                        
                          So that in the euenyng so mery he was.
                        
                          The Contree he behelde aboute farre,
                          Line 7395 
                        
                          And the skye thikke with sterre,
                        
                          And the weder that was mery and bright.
                        
                          Guy bethoughte him anone right
                        
                          That god him had so moche honour doo
                        
                          In all londes that he come to,
                          Line 7400 
                        
                          That he come neuere in noo fighte
                        
                          Bot he was holde the best knyghte,
                        
                          And neuer for his creatour,
                        
                          That had doon him so grete honour.
                        
                          Sore to sighe he beganne,

                          Line 7405

Page 401

                        
                          Line 7405 
                        
                          And in his mynde bethoughte him anone
                        
                          That all his lif he wolde chaunge tho,
                        
                          And in goddis seruyse he wolde him do.
                        
                          With that come the lady goyng,
                        
                          And, tho she fonde hir lorde so thinking,
                          Line 7410 
                        
                          She seide, 'sir, concele it nought;
                        
                          Telle me sone what is your thought.'
                        
                          'Lemman,' he seide, 'y shall the telle,
                        
                          And shewe the my hertes wille.
                        
                          Sithe that y first loued the
                          Line 7415 
                        
                          In grete sorowe y haue bee:
                        
                          Than y haue for the doo
                        
                          Wrought moche sorowe and woo.
                        
                          And if y had doon so well,
                        
                          Withoute more the haluen dell
                          Line 7420 
                        
                          Hadde for goddes loue wroughte, [Caius MS. 107 page 149] 
                        
                          That in so moche honour had me broughte,
                        
                          In heuen, for sothe, y were,
                        
                          In blisse for euere angellis fere.

Page 403

                        
                          And for him did y neuere nought;
                          Line 7425 
                        
                          Therfor y am purposed in thought
                        
                          In goddis seruyse now to goo,
                        
                          To acquite some-what that y haue mysdoo;
                        
                          And of all the goodnesse that y doo shall,
                        
                          I graunte the euere haluendell;

                          Line 7430

Page 405

                        
                          Line 7430 
                        
                          And to thy fader Rouhaude, whan y am goo,
                        
                          And the Countasse, thy moder, also,
                        
                          And heraude of Ardern, y the beseche,
                        
                          And all my folke, that god y beteche.

Page 407

                        
                          Whan the tyme cometh that thou hast childe,
                          Line 7435 
                        
                          Thou loke it well, and bee to him mylde,
                        
                          For it kanne by him self goon.
                        
                          Heraude betake him than anoon.
                        
                          And this swerde, dame, y beteche the:
                        
                          To my sones behoue kepte it bee.'
                          Line 7440 
                        
                          The lady he kyste anone right tho,
                        
                          For pitee ne might he speke wordes moo.
                        
                          Allas the Reuthe that was there tho!
                        
                          In swowe they felle bothe two.

                        
                          WHANNE Guy is risen of swownyng
                          Line 7445 
                        
                          Awey he wente all sorowyng.
                        
                          'Sir,' she seyde, 'vnderstonde me
                        
                          For goddis loue, or thou hense goo, pardee,
                        
                          A-byd and take thys ryng with the.' [Caius MS. 107 page 150] 
                        
                          Gye toke of Felice that Rynge.
                          Line 7450 
                        
                          Grete dole was in that departynge.

Page 409

                        
                          Then wente forth sir Gyoun
                        
                          Oute of towne, that bolde baroun.
                        
                          He wolde speke with no wyght
                        
                          Ne with herawde, the trew knyght;
                          Line 7455 
                        
                          But forth he wente to the see:
                        
                          At jerusalem feyne wold he bee,
                        
                          And in other holy lande,
                        
                          Ther holy men were lyuande.

                        
                          IN the courte felice belefte there.
                          Line 7460 
                        
                          Her sorrow was euer more and more.
                        
                          'Lord,' she seyd, 'what may I seye?
                        
                          How shall I leve thys ylke daye?'
                        
                          Her whyte handys can she wrynge,
                        
                          And downe she fell in sownynge.
                          Line 7465 
                        
                          Her clothes she rent and her here:
                        
                          Was neuer woman that fared so ere.
                        
                          On her hand she brake the rynge:
                        
                          She was a well sory thynge.
                        
                          At the nayles the blode braste owt.
                          Line 7470 
                        
                          Thys lyfe she had the nyght thorow-owte.
                        
                          Ofte she seyd, 'alas, alas!'
                        
                          Gret mornyng mad she in that place.
                        
                          Owt she toke a swerd bryght,
                        
                          And sett hyt to her herte Ryght,
                          Line 7475 
                        
                          And thought to shede her herte blode,
                        
                          For she had lorne her lord goode.
                        
                          But than she be-thought her wyselye
                        
                          That she shulde do grete Folye. [Caius MS. 107 page 151] 
                        
                          She had a chyld her with-ynne:
                          Line 7480 
                        
                          To sle that it were grete synne,
                        
                          And she myght not her selfe sloo
                        
                          But she slew her chyld also.
                        
                          And also she thought in her manere,
                        
                          When he wyste her fader dere,
                          Line 7485 
                        
                          Her fader and her fryndys all
                        
                          Shuld in sorrow and in synne fall;

Page 411

                        
                          For they wold sey sir Gyoun
                        
                          Had her slayne or he wente owte of towne.
                        
                          There-fore it had be grete folye
                          Line 7490 
                        
                          Yf she had sleyne her selfe in hye.
                        
                          Of all the nyght had she no reste,
                        
                          No more than had a wylde beste.
                        
                          On the morrow she rose anone,
                        
                          And to her fader gan she gone.
                          Line 7495 
                        
                          'Fader,' she seyd, 'wyte ye nought?
                        
                          Wykyd tydyngis I haue brought:
                        
                          My lord ys wente oute of this contre.
                        
                          Shall ye neuer here-after hym see.
                        
                          In excile now ys he gone:
                          Line 7500 
                        
                          For sorrow I shall my selfe slone.'
                        
                          With that she fell to the grounde,
                        
                          And swounyd thryes in a lytyll stoun le.
                        
                          He seyd, 'doughter, leve thy mornyng.
                        
                          I may hyt leve for no thynge,
                          Line 7505 
                        
                          That he wold wende in excile,
                        
                          Other to put hym in such peryle.
                        
                          Day and nyght he was full yepe
                        
                          How he myght thy love kepe.' [Caius MS. 107 page 152] 
                        
                          'Nay,' she seyd, 'so muste I thee,
                          Line 7510 
                        
                          Ye shall hym neuer efte see.'
                        
                          Vp he rose, and dwellyd nought,
                        
                          Thorought the towne he hath hym sought.
                        
                          When they no-where found syr Gye,
                        
                          After hys men he sente in hye,
                          Line 7515 
                        
                          And tolde hem all that sir Gye
                        
                          Was gon, and no man wyste whye.

Page 413

                        
                          When they wyste that tydynge,
                        
                          All for Gye made mornynge.
                        
                          When sir herrawd herd seye
                          Line 7520 
                        
                          That hys lord was wente aweye,
                        
                          He lefte neuer nyght ne daye,
                        
                          But grete sorrow he made aye.
                        
                          'Syr,' he seyd, 'what may I seye,
                        
                          Now I haue loren my lord free?
                          Line 7525 
                        
                          I dred that I shall hym neuer see.
                        
                          I red yow sende your messengere
                        
                          Thorought thys lande far and nere.
                        
                          And yf he be not founde here
                        
                          He ys att loreyne with hys fere,
                          Line 7530 
                        
                          Wyth the Erle good terrye,
                        
                          Whom he lovyth specyallye.'
                        
                          A messyngere forth he sente,
                        
                          And all the land thorough he wente;
                        
                          But when he found hym not there
                          Line 7535 
                        
                          Home a-geyne he com full yare,
                        
                          And seyd he had the lond sought,
                        
                          But of sir Gye herde he nowght.
                        
                          Tho thought herraude he wold fonde [Caius MS. 107 page 153] 
                        
                          To seche hym in other londe.
                          Line 7540 
                        
                          He toke two messengerys wyght,

Page 415

                        
                          Both a squyer and a knyght,
                        
                          And yaue hem treasure gret plente,
                        
                          And bad hem wende be-yonde the see
                        
                          To euery londe and euery towne,
                          Line 7545 
                        
                          To aspye tydyngis of sir Gyoune.
                        
                          Herraud hym selfe forth ys gone,
                        
                          Wede of palmer he toke vpone.
                        
                          The Erle of Warwyke sone he fonde,
                        
                          And by-toke hym all hys londe,
                          Line 7550 
                        
                          And seyd, 'in wede of a palmere
                        
                          I wyll Gye seche fere and nere
                        
                          In euery stede and in euery londe
                        
                          There he hath bene in be-fore-hande.'
                        
                          When the Erle saw herrawd so dyght,
                          Line 7555 
                        
                          'Thow arte,' he seyd, 'a trew knyght.'
                        
                          Herrawd went forth, the Erle left there.
                        
                          To the see he come full yare:
                        
                          Shyp he founde and passyd in hye.
                        
                          Comyn he ys into normandye,
                          Line 7560 
                        
                          From thense to fraunce and burgoyne,
                        
                          To almayne and to sosayne:
                        
                          Herd he neuer man speke with mouth
                        
                          That owte of Gye tell cought.
                        
                          Than he though[t] hym shente:
                          Line 7565 
                        
                          Into ynglond ys he wente.
                        
                          All that londe was well sory,
                        
                          For he myght not fynde sir Gye:
                        
                          Kyngis, Erlys, and barouns, [Caius MS. 107 page 154] 
                        
                          All made dole for sir Gyouns;

                          Line 7570

Page 417

                        
                          Line 7570 
                        
                          For they wende vtterly
                        
                          Neuer to haue seyne hym with eyȝe.

                        
                          As we fynde in storye
                        
                          Now speke we of sir Gye.
                        
                          All that yere Gye hath gone
                          Line 7575 
                        
                          Thorowgh-owte landys many on,
                        
                          All hethenesse thorrow and thorrowe
                        
                          Ryght to ierusalem ys borrowe.
                        
                          Full longe wold he not dwell thare,
                        
                          Furthermore wold he fare
                          Line 7580 
                        
                          Thorough all the hethen contree.
                        
                          To Antyoche, the riche Cytee,
                        
                          As he wente in that contrey
                        
                          Halfe the day a grette jorney,
                        
                          Vndyr a bussch ther he fonde
                          Line 7585 
                        
                          A pore pylgryme syttande.
                        
                          He semed well a saryzen.
                        
                          He had gret sorrow and pyne.
                        
                          He semed a man of gret lynage.
                        
                          He had gret eyen and gret visage:
                          Line 7590 
                        
                          Hys hed was white, hys berd was longe.
                        
                          He semyd a bold man and a stronge.
                        
                          He made dole ouer all thynge.
                        
                          Gye had pyte of hys mornynge.
                        
                          He drow hys berd, he brake hys here:

                          Line 7595

Page 419

                        
                          Line 7595 
                        
                          In sowne he fell oftyn there,
                        
                          And seyd 'alas' that he was borne:
                        
                          Herd sorrow was hym be-forne.
                        
                          'Pylgrym,' quod Gye, 'what arte thow? [Caius MS. 107 page 155] 
                        
                          Whi makyste thow such sorrow now?
                          Line 7600 
                        
                          I se full well be thy chere
                        
                          Thou arte agrevyd in som manere.
                        
                          Tell me now, I byd the
                        
                          In the name of the trinite.'
                        
                          'Good man,' quod the pylgrym,
                          Line 7605 
                        
                          'Thou hast me bedyn at thys tyme
                        
                          That I shall [tell] wherefore and whye
                        
                          That I am thys drerelye.
                        
                          I wene thow shalt haue gret pyte
                        
                          When I haue told the sothe to the.

                          Line 7610

Page 421

                        
                          Line 7610 
                        
                          I was a dowty man of honde,
                        
                          And to me there fyll much lande.
                        
                          I was a man bold and wyght:
                        
                          Erle Ionas some tyme I hyght.
                        
                          I had sonnes full fyftene,
                          Line 7615 
                        
                          And bold men and kene.
                        
                          I wene there was neuer man levande,
                        
                          Syth crystendome was brought in hand,
                        
                          That had so many sonnes wyght:
                        
                          Euerych was a man att all ryght.
                          Line 7620 
                        
                          All they be take fro me a-weye:
                        
                          Alas that euer I sye thys daye!
                        
                          Att a batayle I was stronge;
                        
                          The sarzins dyd grete wronge:
                        
                          To Ierusalem com they were,
                          Line 7625 
                        
                          And dystroyed all that was there:
                        
                          I gaderyd an hoste of meny a towne
                        
                          Owte of the crysten nacion,
                        
                          I com to that bateyle thann: [Caius MS. 107 page 156] 
                        
                          There dyed many a dowȝty man.
                          Line 7630 
                        
                          I and my sonnes fyftene
                        
                          Mad the sarzins for to flene.
                        
                          In that tyme tokyn we
                        
                          Sevyn amerallys and kyngis thre.
                        
                          I and my sonnes chasyd thorough the lande
                          Line 7635 
                        
                          A kyng that was fast fleande:

Page 423

                        
                          Hys name was kyng tryamoure,
                        
                          A paynyme he was of gret honoure.
                        
                          To Alysaunder he fled full ryght,
                        
                          There he was kyng of mykyll myght.
                          Line 7640 
                        
                          There we dyd foly stronge,
                        
                          For we chasyd hem to longe.
                        
                          There were redy in a wode
                        
                          Two hundreth knyȝtis goode.
                        
                          Oute of the wod they cam anon,
                          Line 7645 
                        
                          And ouercome euerychone.
                        
                          Meny of hem we woundyd sare:
                        
                          For nothyng wold we spare.
                        
                          Oure good stedys gan they sloo:
                        
                          Tho come to vs full mykell woo.
                          Line 7650 
                        
                          On fote we faught faste than,
                        
                          And slow of hem many a man.
                        
                          Or we wold vs yeld hem to
                        
                          The beste of hem were for-do.
                        
                          We defendyd vs all wey well
                          Line 7655 
                        
                          Tyll oure swerdys brake of stele.
                        
                          When we saw no better socoure
                        
                          We yeld vs to kyng tryamore.
                        
                          We made with hym such comnaunte, [Caius MS. 107 page 157] 
                        
                          And therto we held vp oure hande,
                          Line 7660 
                        
                          That we shuld for grete raunsom
                        
                          Bene delyuerd owt of hys prisoun.

Page 425

                        
                          To Alysaunder he dyd vs fare,
                        
                          And put vs in hys prison thare:
                        
                          Mete and drynke we had full small,
                          Line 7665 
                        
                          Carefull lyfe we led with-all.
                        
                          Hit is twelfe yere and mare
                        
                          That we haue bene in this care.
                        
                          Hyt be-fell vpon a tyde
                        
                          That the sowdan with mykyll pryd,
                          Line 7670 
                        
                          Lord to the kynge tryamore,
                        
                          Made a feste of gre[t] honore:
                        
                          Thrytty kyngis were there full ryght,
                        
                          The sowdan ys men and to hym Iplyght;
                        
                          Amerallys there were fourty,
                          Line 7675 
                        
                          That were redy vnto hys crye.
                        
                          Thedyr wente the kyng tryamoure,
                        
                          And hys son, sir faboure:
                        
                          He was a yong man and a wyght,
                        
                          And a new-dubbyd knyght.
                          Line 7680 
                        
                          Att the thyrd day of that feeste,
                        
                          That wa[s] so riche and so honeste,
                        
                          When they had etyn, and made hem at ease,
                        
                          And seruyd all thyng to theire please,
                        
                          The sowdan ys sonne a-rose full ryght
                          Line 7685 
                        
                          (Syr sadoyne of percy he hyght):
                        
                          'Faboure,' he seyd, 'I byd the,
                        
                          Come pley at the chesse with me.'
                        
                          'Syr,' quod fabour, 'with myn entente [Caius MS. 107 page 158] 
                        
                          I wyll do youre commaundmente.'
                          Line 7690 
                        
                          To fabours yn tho they wente,
                        
                          And after chesse sone they sente.
                        
                          Tho they setten the fyrste assise,
                        
                          They were wroth or they gan Ryse:

Page 427

                        
                          At a cheke that fabour seyd
                          Line 7695 
                        
                          Sadoyne was wroth, and gan vp-brayd.
                        
                          For he was matyd so sone there,
                        
                          Wyth a Roke he smote hym sore;
                        
                          Vppon the heed he brake the browe:
                        
                          Abowt the shulders the blod gan Rowe.
                          Line 7700 
                        
                          'Syr sadoyne,' quod faboure,
                        
                          'Thow hast me do grete dysshonoure
                        
                          When thow hast broken my hede.
                        
                          The grace of Mahoun be me be-revyd,
                        
                          Yf thow ne were mi Lordys sonne,
                          Line 7705 
                        
                          Thow shuldyst abye that thow hast done.'
                        
                          'Traytoure,' quod sadoyne, 'what seyst thow?
                        
                          Hast thow me manessid here nowe?
                        
                          In Euyll tyme thow it thought:
                        
                          Thyne deth thow hast wrought.'
                          Line 7710 
                        
                          With hys fyste he wold hym smyte,
                        
                          But faboure thought it was dispyte:
                        
                          Vppon hys fete he gan stonde,
                        
                          And toke the cheker in hys honde.
                        
                          He smote sadoyne vndyr the ere:
                          Line 7715 
                        
                          He fell downe and dyed there.
                        
                          When Fabour sye that he was dede,
                        
                          He Fled fast from that stede.
                        
                          He went as faste as he myght renne [Caius MS. 107 page 159] 
                        
                          Home to hys faders Inne,
                          Line 7720 
                        
                          And told hys fader how he had slone
                        
                          Sadoyne, the sowdan ys sonne onne.
                        
                          Kyng tryamoure was adrad sare,

Page 429

                        
                          And for that dethe he gan to care.
                        
                          Vppon her horse they lepyn in hye
                          Line 7725 
                        
                          (In there hertis they were sorye),
                        
                          Faste fleand to Alexaundre,
                        
                          Or of hem rose ony slaundre.
                        
                          Oute of the londe tho they wente,
                        
                          Or eny wyste that sadoyne was shente.
                          Line 7730 
                        
                          When they come to the Citee,
                        
                          Full sory and carefull tho was hee.
                        
                          When that wyste that fell sowdan,
                        
                          That sadoyne, hys sonne, was slayne,
                        
                          He was sory, that grete syre,
                          Line 7735 
                        
                          And he was full of tene and ire.
                        
                          He beryed hys son Richelye,
                        
                          And thought to avenge hym in hye.

                        
                          HE sent to tryamoure the kyng,
                        
                          As to a man that he louyd no-thynge,
                          Line 7740 
                        
                          And bad hym com to hym on hye,
                        
                          And defend hym of that felonye,
                        
                          And bryng with hym hys son faboure,
                        
                          That slow hys sonne, that foule treytoure:
                        
                          But he wold do hys commaundement
                          Line 7745 
                        
                          He shuld be slayne and brente,
                        
                          Or ellys such Iugement suffer there
                        
                          As in hys court ordeyned were.
                        
                          The kynge dyght hym full yare, [Caius MS. 107 page 160] 
                        
                          And to the sowdan can he fare,
                          Line 7750 
                        
                          And with hym fabour, the good knyght,
                        
                          Be-fore the sowdan com full ryght.
                        
                          The sowdan askyd hym anone
                        
                          How he had hys sonne slone:

Page 431

                        
                          Yf he myght hym not defende,
                          Line 7755 
                        
                          Thorough deth hys deth he shuld amende.
                        
                          Forth he brought a blake sarzine:
                        
                          A fowler thefe dranke neuer wyne.
                        
                          He was blake as any piche,
                        
                          Men saw neuer none suche.
                          Line 7760 
                        
                          Hys breste was brode, his body grete:
                        
                          He was thykker than a nete.
                        
                          Comyn he ys oute of ynde,
                        
                          A feller thefe shuld no man fynde.
                        
                          There be none thre at that londe
                          Line 7765 
                        
                          That durste ageyne that one stonde.
                        
                          He was a fote and a halfe more
                        
                          Than eny man that euer was bore.
                        
                          Yf the kyng durste with hym fyght,
                        
                          And prove on hym with mayne and myght
                          Line 7770 
                        
                          That sir Sadoyne was neuer dede
                        
                          Thorough hym ne thorough hys sonnys rede,
                        
                          Yf he myght hym to deth brynge,
                        
                          He shuld go quyte of all thynge.
                        
                          Syr tryamoure had drede stronge
                          Line 7775 
                        
                          Of that Geaunte gret and longe.
                        
                          Neuer the lesse a-monge hem all there
                        
                          He forsoke that the sowdan on hym bere,
                        
                          And seyd that sadony was neuer dede [Caius MS. 107 page 161] 
                        
                          Thorough hym ne thorough his sonnus rede;

                          Line 7780

Page 433

                        
                          Line 7780 
                        
                          And an hole yere of trewes [was] tane
                        
                          And fourty dayes till it be gane.
                        
                          Suche is the law of that contree,
                        
                          Euer was, and euer shall bee:
                        
                          And yf he durste not with hym fyȝte,
                          Line 7785 
                        
                          He shuld fynde a nother knyght.
                        
                          Home to Alysaundre hys he wente,
                        
                          After hys barons he hath sente,
                        
                          And dyd crye thorough that londe,
                        
                          Yf he eny man fonde
                          Line 7790 
                        
                          That durst that bateyle take in honde,
                        
                          He shuld yeve hym halfe hys londe;
                        
                          But he ne founde no man so wyght
                        
                          That durste with that geaunt fyght.
                        
                          He toke me than owte of prisoun,
                          Line 7795 
                        
                          And askyd me tho than reasoun
                        
                          Yf I knew euer any knyght
                        
                          That durste with the Geaunte fyght.
                        
                          Full riche man he wold hym make,
                        
                          And do me worshyp for hys sake:
                          Line 7800 
                        
                          He shuld haue gold gret plentee
                        
                          And halfe hys land euer more free.
                        
                          I seyd, 'I know none such of name;'

Page 435

                        
                          For to lye me thought shame.
                        
                          'In none contre ne in no londe
                          Line 7805 
                        
                          Is none that durste it take in honde
                        
                          But it were Gye, the noble knyght,
                        
                          That all men seyn ys so wyght.
                        
                          Yf I myght hym fynde in eny contre [Caius MS. 107 page 162] 
                        
                          Other herrawd, to fyght for the
                          Line 7810 
                        
                          Thow myghtist be seker, with-owt fayle,
                        
                          For to wynne that bateyle.'
                        
                          When the kyng, that stode me bye,
                        
                          Herd speke of herrawd and of sir Gye,
                        
                          Hys ryght hond he leyd on me,
                          Line 7815 
                        
                          And seyd, 'but I haue helpe of the
                        
                          Shall I neuer of man levande
                        
                          Haue helpe, I vndyrstonde.
                        
                          Yf I myght haue sir Gye,
                        
                          I were seker of the mastrye,
                          Line 7820 
                        
                          Other sir herrawd, the knyȝt herdye:
                        
                          Be-fore all other I desyre sir Gye.'
                        
                          He seyd, 'to englond shalt thow fare,
                        
                          To loke yf he be founden thare.
                        
                          Yf he may not fownden be,
                          Line 7825 
                        
                          Loke sir herrawd com with the:
                        
                          I wyll then delyuer the owt of prison
                        
                          And all thy sonnes with-oute rawmsom,
                        
                          And thow shalte haue for thi seruice,
                        
                          Yf thow wylte be ware and wyse,
                          Line 7830 
                        
                          And to me be both trew and hold,
                        
                          Ten somers chargyd with gold.'
                        
                          Then swere I there in all manere
                        
                          To bene hys trew messyngere;
                        
                          And yf I found of hem none,
                          Line 7835 
                        
                          I shuld com home alone:
                        
                          I shuld be hangyd on a galow tree
                        
                          And my fyftene sonnus with me.

Page 437

                        
                          Out of that lond went I in hye, [Caius MS. 107 page 163] 
                        
                          A carefull man and a sorye.
                          Line 7840 
                        
                          I went ryght vnto allmayn,
                        
                          And forth to fraunce and to spayne,
                        
                          Syth to pollayne and to Sesayne,
                        
                          To pavy and to burgayne;
                        
                          Sethen I wente to ynglonde,
                          Line 7845 
                        
                          And asked euery man that I fonde;
                        
                          Sethyn to warwyke dyd I me,
                        
                          There he was wonte lord to be:
                        
                          Herd I no man speke with mouth
                        
                          That ought of Gye tell couth,
                          Line 7850 
                        
                          Ne of sir herrawd ne of sir Gye,
                        
                          And therfore a sory man was I.
                        
                          But hys men vppon a daye
                        
                          Seyden that they herd saye
                        
                          That Gye was wente in excile
                          Line 7855 
                        
                          I-passyd a full longe while,
                        
                          And sir herrawde is forth wente
                        
                          To sech Gye with all hys entente.
                        
                          Lenger wold I dwell there nought,
                        
                          In many londis I haue hym sought:
                          Line 7860 
                        
                          Myght I neuer fynde man

Page 439

                        
                          That owte of Gye tell can.
                        
                          Now I come heder this ilke daye,
                        
                          And reste me here be the weye.
                        
                          Hit is twelmonythis and more
                          Line 7865 
                        
                          Sythen that I fro the kynge gan fare.
                        
                          Now wyll I wende to hym a-geyne:
                        
                          Well I wote I shall be slayne;
                        
                          But for the deth wyll I not flee [Caius MS. 107 page 164] 
                        
                          To yeve answere how it bee,
                          Line 7870 
                        
                          For I haue hym my trowth plyght
                        
                          To com a-geyne to hym full ryght.
                        
                          Well I wote I shall be dede
                        
                          And also my sonnes with-owte rede.
                        
                          Of my selfe yeve I nought,
                          Line 7875 
                        
                          But of my sonnes is all my thought;
                        
                          For they be knyghtis bold and wyght,
                        
                          And well assayd in meny a fyght.
                        
                          Yf they myght leve and old men bee,
                        
                          They myght much helpe crystiante.
                          Line 7880 
                        
                          Now to hym wyll I fare,
                        
                          And take the deth with hem thare.'
                        
                          With that he sowned be-fore sir Gye;
                        
                          Therfor he was full sorye.
                        
                          Gye had sorrow and much care,
                          Line 7885 
                        
                          For he saw Ionas so fare.

                        
                          'Leefe pilgrym,' quod sir Gye,
                        
                          'For thy sonnes thow arte sorye:
                        
                          Gye and herrawd hast thow sowght
                        
                          In meny londys, and foundyst hem nought.
                          Line 7890 
                        
                          Thought thow make doel hit is no ferlye,
                        
                          When thow ne foundyst nother herraud ne Gye:
                        
                          Thorough hem thow hopedist to delyuerd be
                        
                          Of prison and thi chyldre free.

Page 441

                        
                          I was in myn owen londe
                          Line 7895 
                        
                          Som tyme a doughty man of hande:
                        
                          Now for the love of god all-myght,
                        
                          That he me yeve grace to fyght,
                        
                          For Gye and herrawdys sake [Caius MS. 107 page 165] 
                        
                          That bateyle for the wyll I take,
                          Line 7900 
                        
                          And thorow the grace of hevyn-kyng
                        
                          Thy sonnes of prison shall I bryng.'
                        
                          When Erle Ionas herd sir Gye,
                        
                          That he was so bold and so hardye
                        
                          To do that bateyle yf he myght,
                          Line 7905 
                        
                          And with that grete Geaunte for to fyght,
                        
                          He devysed hym full well,
                        
                          Hede and fote, euery deale.
                        
                          He sye hys body gret and longe,
                        
                          And well I-made to be stronge,
                          Line 7910 
                        
                          Wyth bones grete and bare of flesshe.
                        
                          He semyd a man of wildernesse:
                        
                          Hys berd was longe and thike of here.
                        
                          He lokyd on hym full ofte there.
                        
                          'Syr,' he seyd, 'for thy reason
                          Line 7915 
                        
                          Haue thow goddys benyson;
                        
                          But thow knowest not that paynym
                        
                          That ys so much and so gryme;

Page 443

                        
                          For, and yf he lokyd angyrlye
                        
                          Ons on the with hys eye,
                          Line 7920 
                        
                          He wold the so a-gaste make,
                        
                          That thow shuldyst the bateyle for-sake.'
                        
                          'Pylgryme,' quod Gye, 'dred the nowght.
                        
                          God ys myghtfull as I haue thought.
                        
                          Many on hath provyd to do me scathe,
                          Line 7925 
                        
                          And with hys eyen lokyd wrathe,
                        
                          Yet fled I neuer fro hym in bateyle.
                        
                          I tryste on god, he wyll not fayle.
                        
                          Though thow thinke I feble be, [Caius MS. 107 page 166] 
                        
                          He ys of so grete poweste,
                        
                          That he may yeve me grace & myght
                        
                          To slee that Geaunte in that fyght.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod the pilgrym, 'graunt mercye!
                        
                          He that was borne of that mayd marye
                        
                          Yelde the or thow be dede.'
                          Line 7935 
                        
                          For joye he sowned in that stede.
                        
                          'My frende,' quod Gye, 'so haue I hele,
                        
                          Go we forth, we shall fare wele.'
                        
                          To Alysaunder they them dyght,
                        
                          To-fore the kyng they com full ryght.
                          Line 7940 
                        
                          When the kyng Erle Ionas sawe,
                        
                          Vnneth he cowth hym knowe.
                        
                          'Sir Ionas,' quod the kyng than,

Page 445

                        
                          'Where is Gye, that noble man,
                        
                          Other herrawd that thow hast sowght?
                          Line 7945 
                        
                          Hast thow Eny of hem brought?'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'I will yow seye:
                        
                          I will not lye, be this daye.
                        
                          I have hem sowght longe and fferre:
                        
                          Herrawd ne Gye found I nether.
                          Line 7950 
                        
                          I was full fer into Englond,
                        
                          And asked all that I fonde.
                        
                          They seid that Gye is in excile wente,
                        
                          Therfor that londe is now nere shente,
                        
                          And sir herrawd hath take his weye
                          Line 7955 
                        
                          To seke Gye both nyght and daye.
                        
                          But I have browȝt a noble knyȝte,
                        
                          That in armes is bold and wyȝte:
                        
                          For yow he will do this bateyle, [Caius MS. 107 page 167] 
                        
                          With helpe of god he shall not fayle.
                          Line 7960 
                        
                          He shall well defende your ryght,
                        
                          And with that false paynyme fyght.'
                        
                          Quod the kyng to Erle Ionas,
                        
                          'Loke thow lye not in this case.
                        
                          Yf I be trayed thorought the rede of the,
                          Line 7965 
                        
                          Full hye hangyd shalt thow be,
                        
                          And thi sonnes euery-chone
                        
                          With wikyd deth shall dye anone.'
                        
                          'I Graunte,' quod Ionas, 'that ye seye:
                        
                          God vs helpe, that beste maye.'
                          Line 7970 
                        
                          The kyng clepyd sir Gyoune,
                        
                          And told hym a gret reasoune.
                        
                          'Pylgryme,' he seyd, 'what is this name?'
                        
                          Then he seyd, 'Iohn, with-owten blame.'

Page 447

                        
                          'Leve frende,' then seyd the kyng,
                          Line 7975 
                        
                          'Tell yow me with-owte lesynge,
                        
                          Where were thow borne & in what londe?
                        
                          Was there no brede ne corne growande?'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'in Englonde
                        
                          Was I borne and moste dwellande:
                          Line 7980 
                        
                          Sethen that I was dubbyd knyȝte,
                        
                          I haue bene in meny fyght.'
                        
                          'Arte thow Englissh,' quod the kyng,
                        
                          'I owte to hate the ouer all thinge.
                        
                          Knew thow owte sir Gyoun
                          Line 7985 
                        
                          And herrawd, the bold baroun?
                        
                          They be dowȝty men of hand,
                        
                          Yf they be in the world levand.
                        
                          I owght to hate Gye with grete Ire: [Caius MS. 107 page 168] 
                        
                          He slowe my fader, the kyng of tyre,
                          Line 7990 
                        
                          And he slow my Eme with his honde,
                        
                          The sowdan, at his mete sittand:
                        
                          I saw hym smyte of his hede,
                        
                          And with myȝt and streng[t]h a-wey hit leede.
                        
                          Awey he prikyd ther-with full faste:
                          Line 7995 
                        
                          All we chasyd hym at the laste.
                        
                          The devyll hym savyd, that he was not slone,
                        
                          But he slow of vs meny one.
                        
                          Lord Mahoun wold he were here!
                        
                          Than wold I make well good chere.
                          Line 8000 
                        
                          Yf that he wold fyght for me,
                        
                          Also for-yeve shuld hyt be.'
                        
                          Gye answeryd full curteslye,
                        
                          'Syr,' he seyd, 'full well know I Gye
                        
                          And herrawd also; both two
                          Line 8005 
                        
                          I know hem well, so must I goo.
                        
                          Yf ye had herraw[d]e other Gye,
                        
                          Ye were seker of the mastrye.'

Page 449

                        
                          'Tell me,' quod [the] king than,
                        
                          'Whi arte thow so lene a man?
                          Line 8010 
                        
                          An onkynd man hast thow seruyd aye,
                        
                          When thow departidyst so power aweye,
                        
                          Eyther hit is thyn folye,
                        
                          That thow departist secretlye.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'well may fall,
                          Line 8015 
                        
                          But myn Estate know ye not all.
                        
                          For soth, I was in good servyse:
                        
                          My lord me lovyd in all wyse.
                        
                          For hym I had grete honoure [Caius MS. 107 page 169] 
                        
                          Of kyng, prince, and maydens in bowre.
                          Line 8020 
                        
                          But for a lytill hastines
                        
                          All I loste, both more and lesse.
                        
                          Tho went I fro my contree,
                        
                          Tyll it myght after better be.
                        
                          Thus will I walke in this estate,
                          Line 8025 
                        
                          Tyll his wrath be abate.
                        
                          When he and I accordyd be,
                        
                          Then will I wende to my contree.'
                        
                          Now quod the kyng so free,
                        
                          'Will thow this bateyle take for me?
                          Line 8030 
                        
                          Or ellys I shall Gett another.
                        
                          Tell thow me, my leve brodyr.'
                        
                          Gye seyd, 'therfor com I hedyr,
                        
                          I and Ionas to-geder.
                        
                          With helpe of god in trinite
                          Line 8035 
                        
                          This bateile will I take for the,
                        
                          And sle the paynym with my honde,
                        
                          With that thow graunte me this covenaunde,
                        
                          That Ionas and his sonnes ecchone
                        
                          Shall be delyuerd, and that anone.'
                          Line 8040 
                        
                          The kyng seyd, 'I the graunte.
                        
                          Mahoun me helpe & turmegaunte.'

Page 451

                        
                          'Nay,' quod Gye, 'but Mary is sonne,
                        
                          That for vs on the rode was done:
                        
                          He be myn helpe for his mercye;
                          Line 8045 
                        
                          For I the sey well sikerlye
                        
                          That Mahoun hath no poweste
                        
                          Nother to helpe the ne me.'
                        
                          Quod the kyng, 'my frende so dere, [Caius MS. 107 page 170] 
                        
                          I wyll make a covenaunte here.
                          Line 8050 
                        
                          Yf thow myght the Geaunte sloo,
                        
                          And bryng me owt of my woo,
                        
                          Thi god for the love of the
                        
                          Grete honoure shall haue of me.
                        
                          All crysten that I haue taken here
                          Line 8055 
                        
                          Shall be delyuerd with good chere.
                        
                          In all my lond of Alexaundre
                        
                          Men shall not the crysten dere.
                        
                          Ther shall be none in hethenes,
                        
                          Man ne woman, more ne lesse,
                          Line 8060 
                        
                          That ys of crystiante
                        
                          But he here shall delyuerd be;
                        
                          And such a statute shall I make
                        
                          For the and for goddes sake,
                        
                          That all crysten her wey shall wende
                          Line 8065 
                        
                          Thorough-owt this land fayre & hende,
                        
                          And, yf any be so hardye
                        
                          To do them shame other villany,
                        
                          Be he neuer so bold ne stowte,
                        
                          He shall be hanged with-owte dowȝt.'
                          Line 8070 
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'graunte mercye!
                        
                          This [is] a feyer graunt, sekerlye.'

                        
                          The kyng bad he shuld bathed be,
                        
                          'And yf hym Robes two or thre:
                        
                          All his desire be hym brought;

                          Line 8075

Page 453

                        
                          Line 8075 
                        
                          Loke that hym wante nowght.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'hold the styll.
                        
                          Hit is nothing my will
                        
                          Riche Robis for to have: [Caius MS. 107 page 171] 
                        
                          I am now but a pore knave.
                          Line 8080 
                        
                          Mete and drynke geve me my fill,
                        
                          And then haue I all my wyll.'
                        
                          The kyng bad than that he shuld have
                        
                          All that euer he wold crave.
                        
                          The terme ys now come full sone,
                          Line 8085 
                        
                          That the bateyle shuld be done:
                        
                          The kyng was nobley dyȝte
                        
                          And all his baronage stoute and wyght:
                        
                          To the sowdan will they fare.
                        
                          Forth they went, and that full yare.
                          Line 8090 
                        
                          Sir Gye was armed and well dyght
                        
                          As it fell to a worthi knyȝt.
                        
                          On he had a good hawberke:
                        
                          Hit was of a full good werke.
                        
                          In fer lond was hit wrought,
                          Line 8095 
                        
                          And to the kynge for a present brought.
                        
                          When hit com to Ierusalem,
                        
                          Hit shone as the son beame.
                        
                          A theef hit stale with robberye,
                        
                          And brought hit to Alexandrye.
                          Line 8100 
                        
                          The auncetres of kyng tryamoure
                        
                          Kepte hit with a gret tresoure.

Page 455

                        
                          Hit was take for tresorye
                        
                          At that ned to sir Gye.
                        
                          Thritty wynters and well more
                          Line 8105 
                        
                          Was hit not on-folden ore:
                        
                          Hit was so clere and so bryght,
                        
                          All the hall shone of the lyght.
                        
                          He had an helme of oold werke, [Caius MS. 107 page 172] 
                        
                          On euery syd styfe and sterke.
                          Line 8110 
                        
                          Who that on his hed hit bere
                        
                          Shuld not be convicte in were.
                        
                          Hit was Alexaundris the kyng:
                        
                          He hit wan at a fyghtyng.
                        
                          He slow the kyng priamoure therfore,
                          Line 8115 
                        
                          And wanne there much more.
                        
                          He bare a swerd in hys honde:
                        
                          Ectour, the good knyȝt, hyt fonde.
                        
                          Ther-with the grekis many one,
                        
                          Or he lese [hyt], had he slone.
                          Line 8120 
                        
                          He wold have yove for the fyndyng
                        
                          The weyght of gold and of other thyng.
                        
                          He had a ryght noble targe:
                        
                          Hit was grete, stronge, and large.
                        
                          There was no thyng that myght hit dere,
                          Line 8125 
                        
                          Knyfe, ne swerd, ne sharpe spere.
                        
                          When he was dight all thus sir Gye,
                        
                          The paynyms of hym had ferlye.
                        
                          Euerych askyd other what he myght be,
                        
                          Whens he com and fro what contre
                          Line 8130 
                        
                          That for the kyng shuld fyght:
                        
                          Saw they neuer a fayrer knyght.

                        
                          The kyng seyd than to the sowdan,
                        
                          'Heryth me now anon.
                        
                          I am com be-fore yow here

                          Line 8135

Page 457

                        
                          Line 8135 
                        
                          To deffend me in all manere
                        
                          Of that wiked felonye
                        
                          That was put on me wikydlye.
                        
                          Thorough this knyght that stondyth here [Caius MS. 107 page 173] 
                        
                          I will prove that youre son dere
                          Line 8140 
                        
                          Thorough his owen pursuet was dede,
                        
                          My sonne defendaunte of that quede.'
                        
                          'Kyng,' quod the sowdan, 'hast thow [hym] brought,
                        
                          Hit shall sone be don I have thought.'
                        
                          He bad bryng forth that Geaunte,
                          Line 8145 
                        
                          Of ynd a paynym, ameraunte.
                        
                          He was armyd noblye:
                        
                          Euery man of hym had ferlye.
                        
                          His body was gret and swith longe:
                        
                          He semyd to be wondyr stronge.
                          Line 8150 
                        
                          When Gye saw that ilke paynyme,
                        
                          That was so much and so gryme,
                        
                          'Iesu,' quod sir Gye than,
                        
                          'Hit is the devyll, it is no man.
                        
                          Who shuld euer hys stroke stonde
                          Line 8155 
                        
                          With-owten deth? noman levand!'
                        
                          Forth they wente to that bateyle
                        
                          Hastily, with-oute fayle,
                        
                          In a feld with-owte the Cyte:
                        
                          Ther was hyt ordeyned to be.
                          Line 8160 
                        
                          When they com there they shuld fyght,
                        
                          They daltyn strokis anone ryght.
                        
                          Tho they smytten to-geder faste,

Page 459

                        
                          Euer whiles her sperys wold laste;
                        
                          But full sone that ylke tyde
                          Line 8165 
                        
                          They brokyn on pecys hem besyde.
                        
                          Then drew the[y] swerdys of good stele,
                        
                          And fawght to-gedyr nobly wele.
                        
                          Ameraunte hys swerd drew owte: [Caius MS. 107 page 174] 
                        
                          Hyt was well sharpe all abowte.
                          Line 8170 
                        
                          Hyt was Ercules swerd the wyght:
                        
                          He had hyt borne in many fyght,
                        
                          And therwith slayne many a mane.
                        
                          Ameraunte hym selfe hyt wane.
                        
                          Hyt was put in water of hell,
                          Line 8175 
                        
                          Therfor hyt was kene and fell.
                        
                          But god of hevyn thynke on Gye,
                        
                          He shall be ded full hastilye.
                        
                          With wrath sterte forth ameraunte,
                        
                          To Gye he made a gret assawte.
                          Line 8180 
                        
                          Then to-Gedyr gan they fyght,
                        
                          And daltyn strokis anone ryght.

Page 461

                        
                          Ameraunte smote Gye on the helme ryȝt
                        
                          With hys swerd, that was so bryght:
                        
                          He fellyd the flowres all a-bowte
                          Line 8185 
                        
                          Of hys helme, that was so stoute,
                        
                          That was neuer blemysshed ere
                        
                          In no bateyle where it were.
                        
                          Thorough hys sadyll he smote also
                        
                          Hys good sted evyn in two,
                          Line 8190 
                        
                          And yet fell the stroke down thore
                        
                          To the erth a fote and more.
                        
                          Sir Gye fyll to ground anone;
                        
                          Hys good stede vnder hym was slone.
                        
                          'Lord,' he seyd, 'god all-myȝte,
                          Line 8195 
                        
                          That madyst both day and nyght,
                        
                          Sheld me from deth to-daye,
                        
                          For well I wot that thow maye.
                        
                          Kepe me, for thi swete grace, [Caius MS. 107 page 175] 
                        
                          That I be not slayne in this place.'

                          Line 8200

Page 463

                        
                          Line 8200 
                        
                          Vpon hys feete he sterte full lyght,
                        
                          As he that bold was and wyght.
                        
                          He toke hys swerd with gret envye,
                        
                          And smote Ameraunte tho in hye.
                        
                          Of the helme the stroke glode,
                          Line 8205 
                        
                          And by the horse the stroke rode.
                        
                          The stedys neke he smote in two:
                        
                          The Geaunte fell to the erth tho;
                        
                          But vp he stert with-owte dwellyng:
                        
                          Therof pleyned he no-thyng.
                          Line 8210 
                        
                          He smote to Gye with all hys myȝt,
                        
                          And he hym, as a noble knyȝt.
                        
                          Tho they fowghten ryght faste there:
                        
                          Nother of hem wold other spare.
                        
                          They fowght with so grete Ire:
                          Line 8215 
                        
                          Oute of ther helmis sprange the fyre.
                        
                          They breke hawberkis & shyldys:
                        
                          The pecis flew in-to the fyldys.
                        
                          They fought so faste with her brondys:
                        
                          They corue theire armour with streng[t]h of handys.
                        
                          Be-twene them was bateyle stronge,
                          Line 8221 
                        
                          And hyt lastyd swyth longe.
                        
                          Tho thought Ameraunt the knyght
                        
                          That he had be in many a fyght:
                        
                          Vp he lyfte his arme on hye,
                          Line 8225 
                        
                          And thought to smyte sore sir Gye.
                        
                          On the helme he hym smote,
                        
                          The sercle of gold of hys swerd bote.

Page 465

                        
                          The swerd went down by hys chyne, [Caius MS. 107 page 176] 
                        
                          The good sheld hyt stekyd Inne.
                          Line 8230 
                        
                          Then to Gye he stert well stoute,
                        
                          And with so gret Ire he drow yt oute,
                        
                          That on knees he fellyd sir Gye;
                        
                          But vp he sterte full hastilye.
                        
                          Then was hys herte full of tene:
                          Line 8235 
                        
                          'Lady,' he seyd, 'hevyn quene,
                        
                          Never, sith I was borne in londe,
                        
                          Knelyd I erste for stroke of hande.'
                        
                          Vp he caught hys swerd good,
                        
                          And smote the Geaunte ther he stode:
                          Line 8240 
                        
                          With all hys streng[t]h & all hys myȝt
                        
                          Vppon the helme he hyt hym Ryght.
                        
                          He fellyd hys sercle sett with stonys,
                        
                          That was Riche for the nonys.
                        
                          The aventaile, that was so thyke,
                          Line 8245 
                        
                          Held no more than a styke.
                        
                          He karve the Flessh, the swerd in yode:
                        
                          Hys face was coueryd all with blode.
                        
                          Hys good hawberke he all to-reefe,
                        
                          The good shyld all to-cleefe.
                          Line 8250 
                        
                          In the shyld the swerd with-stode:
                        
                          Of that stroke sir Gye thought good.
                        
                          As he wold the swerd draw owte,
                        
                          Ameraunte, that was so stoute,
                        
                          On knees and handys he mad hym fall;
                          Line 8255 
                        
                          But vp he sterte forth with-all,

Page 467

                        
                          As a bold man and a wyght,
                        
                          And hys swerd he hent a-none ryght.
                        
                          He smote full faste to sir Gye, [Caius MS. 107 page 177] 
                        
                          And he to hym, full hardelye.
                          Line 8260 
                        
                          The erthe dynned all abowte
                        
                          Of her strokis herd and stowte.
                        
                          The fyre flye from her helmys bryght:
                        
                          That was a well strong fyght!
                        
                          Men [sayden] that syen that bateyle,
                          Line 8265 
                        
                          So faste eche other gan assayle,
                        
                          That such a fyght was neuer be-forne
                        
                          Of creatures that were of women borne.
                        
                          The sonn was hote, the wedyr was clere,
                        
                          As ye mowe in the story here:
                          Line 8270 
                        
                          The morne after seynt Iohns daye
                        
                          In somers tyd, as I yow seye,
                        
                          This bateyle was ordeyned soo
                        
                          Betwene these noble knyghtis two.

                        
                          A Meraunte stode styll ryght
                          Line 8275 
                        
                          As a man that was wery of fyght.
                        
                          For hys blode that was aweye,
                        
                          And for the hete of the daye
                        
                          He was grevyd for thryste so sore,
                        
                          That he muste drynke, or dye ryght thore.
                          Line 8280 
                        
                          'Abyde,' he seyd, 'thow noble knyght:
                        
                          Founde I neuer none so wyght.
                        
                          Fourty Geauntis haue I slayne:
                        
                          Strenger saw thou neuer nane;
                        
                          Yet ne founde I neuer knyght,
                          Line 8285 
                        
                          Yf that I hyt hym a-ryght,
                        
                          That myght stond me eny whyle,
                        
                          But he was slayne with-in a myle,
                        
                          But thow alone this ilke daye. [Caius MS. 107 page 178] 
                        
                          Tell me, knyght, by the laye,
                          Line 8290 
                        
                          Where were thow borne? in what londe,
                        
                          That thow arte so dowghty man of honde?'

Page 469

                        
                          'Lysten,' quod Gye, 'and thow shalte here:
                        
                          I will the tell in fayre manere.
                        
                          I was borne in Englonde,
                          Line 8295 
                        
                          And crystoned with pristis honde.
                        
                          Now am I here for this thynge
                        
                          To defende triamoure the kynge
                        
                          That was wronge on hym leyd,
                        
                          And with false wittenesse seyd.'
                          Line 8300 
                        
                          'Arte thow Englysshe?' quod ameraunte.
                        
                          'Lord It wold Termagaunte,
                        
                          That thow were sir Gye, the noble knyȝte,
                        
                          That all men seyen ys so wyght!
                        
                          A glad man shuld I be one:
                          Line 8305 
                        
                          Hys hede were myn a-none.
                        
                          Hit shall neuer be restoryd a-geyne
                        
                          That he & his men haue distroyed and slayne.
                        
                          He and his men with-oute bateyle
                        
                          Slowen on a day, with-owten fayle,
                          Line 8310 
                        
                          Fourty thowsand of oure men,
                        
                          And of hem were not dede ten.
                        
                          Yf he were slayne in ony gyse,
                        
                          And eke sir herrawd the wise,
                        
                          Of all that in the world were
                          Line 8315 
                        
                          Ne yave I not an here.'
                        
                          'Wherfor,' quod Gye, 'arte thow wroth?
                        
                          Dyd they the ony lothe?
                        
                          Hit were gret synne and shame [Caius MS. 107 page 179] 
                        
                          To slee sir Gye with-oute blame.'
                          Line 8320 
                        
                          'Nay,' he seyd, 'it were no synne,
                        
                          But greate honoure for me to wynne.'
                        
                          Quod ameraunte to hym thanne,

Page 471

                        
                          'Here thow me, thow crysten manne!
                        
                          Hit is grete hete, as thow mayste see:
                          Line 8325 
                        
                          For thi goddis love and thi crystiantee,
                        
                          Yeve me, leve, yf hit be thi will,
                        
                          Ons leve to drynke my fill.
                        
                          For thryste I haue so much woo:
                        
                          Me thynketh my herte will breke in two.
                          Line 8330 
                        
                          And yf so be thow slow me here
                        
                          Thus for thurste in any were,
                        
                          Schuldyste thow neuer preysed be
                        
                          Here ne in no contre,
                        
                          But grete shame hit were for the.
                          Line 8335 
                        
                          This respite I aske of the
                        
                          For his love that dyed on tree,
                        
                          And such a covenaunte I make with the,
                        
                          Here-after, yf nede bee,
                        
                          Yf thow thirste, and will drynke here,
                          Line 8340 
                        
                          I will the graunte with well good chere.'
                        
                          'Syr,' quod Gye, 'thow seyst wele.
                        
                          Go drynke I-nough, be seynt myghell.'
                        
                          When he herd that word than
                        
                          He was a full Ioy-full man.
                          Line 8345 
                        
                          He opyned vmber that tyde,
                        
                          And keeled hym on euery syde.
                        
                          He dranke Inowgh at his wyll,
                        
                          And euer stode Gye ther stone styll. [Caius MS. 107 page 180] 
                        
                          When he com sir Gye nere
                          Line 8350 
                        
                          He resoned hym on this manere.
                        
                          'Sir knyght,' he seyd, 'yeld the now:
                        
                          Thow shalt be dede sone as I trow.
                        
                          Of thi prow haddyst thow no thought,

Page 473

                        
                          Of thi deth lytill thow rought,
                          Line 8355 
                        
                          When thow in thyn herte myȝ[t] thynke
                        
                          To yeve me leve for to drynke.
                        
                          My maner I shall the saye:
                        
                          Had I fought all the somers daye
                        
                          Fro the morrow to the derke nyght,
                          Line 8360 
                        
                          Yf that I ons drynke myght,
                        
                          In the world is none so dowghty a knyght,
                        
                          That I nere hardy with hym to fyght.
                        
                          Deffende the now,' quod ameraunte.
                        
                          'Yes,' quod Gye, 'with-oute defendaunte.'
                          Line 8365 
                        
                          They smyt to-gedyr at the laste
                        
                          With swerdis on her helmis faste.

                        
                          Now there begynneth a gret bateyle,
                        
                          Eche gan other faste assayle:
                        
                          Here none wold, for deth to drede,
                          Line 8370 
                        
                          Flee from other owte of that stede.
                        
                          Her strokis were so vnryde,
                        
                          Her armoure brake vnto the hyde.
                        
                          Her helmys breke and her schyldys:
                        
                          The pecis flew in-to the fyldys.
                          Line 8375 
                        
                          The mayles of her good hawberkis
                        
                          Sprongen owte as it were sperkis.
                        
                          They fall on knees full ofte both:
                        
                          Hit semyd well that they were wrothe. [Caius MS. 107 page 181] 
                        
                          Ameraunte with Grete Envye
                          Line 8380 
                        
                          With all hys myȝte he smote sir Gye:
                        
                          The creste of hys helme he hyt so,
                        
                          That he smote yt evyn in two;
                        
                          And a grete pece of hys sheelde
                        
                          He smote a-weye in-to the feelde,

                          Line 8385

Page 475

                        
                          Line 8385 
                        
                          And into the erthe a fote and more:
                        
                          All spake therof that were thore.
                        
                          Of that dynte Gye had wondre:
                        
                          Hys armoure smetyn was in sondre,
                        
                          But his Flessch had no scathe:
                          Line 8390 
                        
                          He thankyd god of hevyn rathe.
                        
                          But he was astonyed swyth sare:
                        
                          Therof he had grete care.
                        
                          To hym he had gret Envye,
                        
                          That he ne were a-vengyd hastylye.
                          Line 8395 
                        
                          He smote Ameraunte the knyght,
                        
                          He smote hym in the shild ryght
                        
                          Halfe a fote and som dele more:
                        
                          Therwith the Geauntis flessh he shore.
                        
                          Therwith a-bakwarde drew sir Gye;
                          Line 8400 
                        
                          For he was a-thryst, sykyrly.
                        
                          'For my love I the praye,
                        
                          Geve me leve to drynke this daye.
                        
                          I am so a-thriste, I may not stonde,
                        
                          Ne hold my swerd vnneth in hande.
                          Line 8405 
                        
                          I pray the now of drynke thi grace,
                        
                          Other I for thryste dye in this place.
                        
                          Do me now that ilke deed
                        
                          That I dyd to the in thy nede, [Caius MS. 107 page 182] 
                        
                          That thow me hyght vtterlye
                          Line 8410 
                        
                          With-oute ony shame or velanye,
                        
                          I shuld me reste vtterly at my wyll,
                        
                          And drynke therto all my fill.'

Page 477

                        
                          Quod ameraunte, 'so muste I the,
                        
                          Thou shalt haue no leve for me.
                          Line 8415 
                        
                          I will ryght here a-none the sloo,
                        
                          Or thow shalte to the water goo.'
                        
                          'For Iesu crystes love,' seyd sir Gye,
                        
                          'Gentill knyȝt, now mercy.
                        
                          Yf I were in this stede
                          Line 8420 
                        
                          For strengith of thriste done to dede,
                        
                          Shuldyst thow neuer preysed be
                        
                          Here ne in no contre.
                        
                          Do now as an hende knyght,
                        
                          And abyde a lytill wight,
                          Line 8425 
                        
                          Till I haue dronke as I haue tight:
                        
                          Than to-gedir will we fyght.
                        
                          Then shall we seen sone in hye
                        
                          Who shall haue the maistrie.'
                        
                          'Nay,' seid ameraunte, 'be my honde,
                          Line 8430 
                        
                          I will to no covenaunte stonde
                        
                          For this Cite full of treasure,
                        
                          That I ne shall distroye kyng triamoure.
                        
                          When I haue smytten of thine he[v]ed,
                        
                          And kyng triamoure his honour be-revyd,
                          Line 8435 
                        
                          The sowdan be-hyght me his land,
                        
                          And therto he held vp his ryght honde.
                        
                          The sowdan hath a dowȝter dere,
                        
                          She is feyer in all manere: [Caius MS. 107 page 183] 
                        
                          I haue her desyred ouer all thyng;
                          Line 8440 
                        
                          I shall her haue, that mayden yenge.
                        
                          My frend,' he seyd, 'yeld the nowe:
                        
                          Hit shall be much for thi prowe.
                        
                          Do of all thine armoure as tyte,
                        
                          Yf thow wilt passe with thi lyfe quyte:
                          Line 8445 
                        
                          But thow wilt I shall the sloo,
                        
                          For-soth, or thow to water goo.'
                        
                          Then answeryd sir Gye full hastilye,
                        
                          'That shall neuer be, full sekerlye.
                        
                          I wold not that for all this londe,

                          Line 8450

Page 479

                        
                          Line 8450 
                        
                          While I may endure on fote to stonde
                        
                          Certes, I will not yeld me in this fyght,
                        
                          While that I haue ony mayne or myȝte.'
                        
                          'Sey me,' quod the paynyme thann;
                        
                          'Well I wote thow arte a crysten man:
                          Line 8455 
                        
                          I se well thow arte both bold & wyȝte,
                        
                          And me thow haste full yll I-dyght;
                        
                          For I haue many a sore wounde,
                        
                          And thou arte both hole & sounde.
                        
                          So god of hevyn the shyld fro shame,
                          Line 8460 
                        
                          Tell me here now thi ryght name.
                        
                          With that forward thow make no lesynge,
                        
                          Thow shalt haue of me all thyn askynge.
                        
                          Thow seyst thy name ys clepid Iohn:
                        
                          Thow hast a nother name, be my crown.
                          Line 8465 
                        
                          Certes, yf thow aryght so clepyd were,
                        
                          Hit were more knowen, be my swere.'
                        
                          'I shall the seye,' quod Gye than,
                        
                          'So thow tell it to no notherman. [Caius MS. 107 page 184] 
                        
                          My name ys Gye of warwyke:
                          Line 8470 
                        
                          I trow thow wilt me not be-swyke.
                        
                          I fyght for kyng triamoure
                        
                          With-owte any more tresoure.'
                        
                          When ameraunte herd full ryght
                        
                          That he was sir Gye, the noble knyȝt,
                          Line 8475 
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'be hevyn kyng,
                        
                          Now haue I my desire in all thyng.
                        
                          Well art thow now fownden here.
                        
                          I fynd hit soth in all manere
                        
                          That many man hath seyd of the.
                          Line 8480 
                        
                          Yeld the now ryght here to me.

Page 481

                        
                          I shall haue my will to-day
                        
                          Of that I haue longid aye.
                        
                          Certeis, thyn hed here will I of smyte,
                        
                          And bere hit to the mayde also tyte.
                          Line 8485 
                        
                          Now shall thow well vndyrstond
                        
                          That I wold not for all this lond
                        
                          Onys to let the drynke all thi fyll:
                        
                          Then myȝt I hope te sped full yll.'
                        
                          'Kyng of heven,' quod sir Gye,
                          Line 8490 
                        
                          'But I drynke shortly I dye.'
                        
                          He hath thouȝt for all hys saw
                        
                          To wend and drynke a litill thraw.
                        
                          He toke his cours & Ran full ryȝt:
                        
                          Drynke he muste, or fall down tyght.
                          Line 8495 
                        
                          Ameraunt gan faste after to goo
                        
                          With hys swerd hym for to sloo.
                        
                          Gye stert in-to the water depe:
                        
                          But Iesu cryste hym ther did kepe, [Caius MS. 107 page 185] 
                        
                          Out of the water shall he not wyn:
                          Line 8500 
                        
                          He was nere-hand a-drownyd theryn.

                        
                          Now ys Gye in a stronge case:
                        
                          The water ouer hys gyrdyll was.
                        
                          Hys hed he smote depe down:
                        
                          The water was ouer hys crown.
                          Line 8505 
                        
                          Ameraund smote at hym so wele,
                        
                          That in the water he made hym knele.
                        
                          The water hym closyd all abowte:
                        
                          He held hym in, he myght not oute.
                        
                          When sir Gye had dronke I-nough
                          Line 8510 
                        
                          He thankyd god, and faste he lough.
                        
                          Vp he sterte as knyȝt full stoute:

Page 483

                        
                          The water ran down hym all abowte.
                        
                          He shoke hys hed, & seyd full ryght:
                        
                          'I-thankyd be Iesu full of myȝte.
                          Line 8515 
                        
                          In cold water hast thow bathid me,
                        
                          But name had I none for the.'
                        
                          Oute of the water he made a sawte,
                        
                          Anon he smote to Ameraunte.
                        
                          An hard bateyle ther began:
                          Line 8520 
                        
                          They fowȝt with gret hertis than.
                        
                          They thouȝt how eche myȝt other scath:
                        
                          Were they neuer be-fore so wrath.
                        
                          'Theef,' quod Gye, 'haue thow mawgrye.
                        
                          I-thankyd be god in trynite:
                          Line 8525 
                        
                          Now am I colyd at my wyll,
                        
                          And therto haue dronke all my fill.
                        
                          In the shall I neuer affye;
                        
                          For thow arte a treytour, sekerlye.' [Caius MS. 107 page 186] 
                        
                          Tho they fowghten to-gedyr faste,
                          Line 8530 
                        
                          While the somers day wold laste:
                        
                          Tyll hit come to the mone lyght,
                        
                          Euer fast gan they fyght;
                        
                          Yet couth no man the soth seye,
                        
                          Who bare hym best that ilke daye.
                          Line 8535 
                        
                          The Geaunte had a venu caste,
                        
                          And sir Gye counteryd hym at the laste.
                        
                          The ryght hand was the swerd with-yn:
                        
                          Gye smote hyt of with Ioye and wyn.
                        
                          When the Geaunt was wounded sare,
                          Line 8540 
                        
                          Hys hert was full of Ire and care.
                        
                          Vp he toke his good bronde

Page 485

                        
                          Full sone in hys lyfte honde:
                        
                          Twenty sawtes he mad to sir Gye
                        
                          In a stounde, and that full hastyly,
                          Line 8545 
                        
                          As he were a wod lyon,
                        
                          But euer he kept him well sir Gyoun.
                        
                          Ameraunt tho at the laste
                        
                          Began for to febyll faste:
                        
                          For he had so fought all this daye,
                          Line 8550 
                        
                          And his blod [was] nyȝe a-weye,
                        
                          His streng[t]h gan faste to slake,
                        
                          And his body gan for to ake.
                        
                          Gye a-perceyved hit full well,
                        
                          And besteryd hym faste, so haue I hele:
                          Line 8555 
                        
                          That other arme he smote in two,
                        
                          That arme and shuldre fell hym froo.
                        
                          When that other arme was lore,
                        
                          'Alas,' he seyd, 'that euer I was bore;' [Caius MS. 107 page 187] 
                        
                          To Gye rode as an hounde,
                          Line 8560 
                        
                          And bare sir Gye nere to the grounde
                        
                          With hys hed be-fore the herte,
                        
                          That sir Gye all a-bakward sterte.
                        
                          But Gye kept hym well with-all,
                        
                          And mad hym to the erth to fall.
                          Line 8565 
                        
                          Hys aventayle tho from hym he revyd,
                        
                          And then he smote of hys he[v]ede.
                        
                          In hys hond he hit hent,
                        
                          And to kyng tryamoure sone he went.
                        
                          The kyng hit toke sone anone,
                          Line 8570 
                        
                          And sent it to the proud sowdan.
                        
                          When the sowdan hit gan seen
                        
                          He for-yave the kyng all his tene;
                        
                          Therwith he yave hym noble thyng,
                        
                          Gold, siluer, and rich clothyng.

                          Line 8575

Page 487

                        
                          Line 8575 
                        
                          'Erle Ionas,' tho quod the Kynge,
                        
                          'Good tydyng I will the brynge.
                        
                          Thow hast savyd my lyfe so dere
                        
                          Thorowgh this knyȝt, that stondith now here.
                        
                          By that god on whome I trowe,
                          Line 8580 
                        
                          I will make the lord nowe
                        
                          Of all my land fere and nere:
                        
                          I make the lord and master here.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'Graunte mercy!
                        
                          God yow yeld and seynt marye.'
                          Line 8585 
                        
                          Tho seyd the kyng to Gye so free,
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'I prey the to dwell with me:
                        
                          Thou shalte haue of me ryght gret honoure,
                        
                          Meny a good Cite, castell, and towre. [Caius MS. 107 page 188] 
                        
                          I will season into thyn hande
                          Line 8590 
                        
                          Evyn halfen deale of my lande.
                        
                          I will not thow leve thi laye:
                        
                          Thow arte a trew knyȝt, be this daye.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'graunte mercye!
                        
                          I will hit not, sekerlye.'
                          Line 8595 
                        
                          The Erle toke leve of the kyng,
                        
                          And forth they went, with-oute lesyng.
                        
                          With hym he toke sir Gye the wyght,
                        
                          And went to Ierusalem full ryght.
                        
                          The Erle hym be-thought vpon a daye
                          Line 8600 
                        
                          He wold wit yf that he maye
                        
                          From whens he cam that noble knyȝte,
                        
                          'And what his name ys he sey me aryght.'
                        
                          On the morne he com to sir Gye,

Page 489

                        
                          And asked hym full prevelye,
                          Line 8605 
                        
                          'Sir knyȝt,' he seid, 'what is thi name?
                        
                          Tell me, so god shyld the from shame.
                        
                          Thow seydyst that thow hyȝtyst Iohn:
                        
                          Thow hast a nother name, be my crown.
                        
                          For that goddis love I byd the
                          Line 8610 
                        
                          That sufferd deth vppon a Rood tre,
                        
                          And with his preciouse blode vs all dere bowȝt,
                        
                          Tell me thi name here, and lye me nought.'
                        
                          Then seyd Gye, 'thow shalt here,
                        
                          For thow me askyst in feyre manere.
                          Line 8615 
                        
                          Loke thow discouer me neuer more,
                        
                          For gret shame and synne yt wore.
                        
                          Gye of Warewyke ys my name:
                        
                          Though I be pore thynketh me no shame. [Caius MS. 107 page 189] 
                        
                          Now have I fought for the here,
                          Line 8620 
                        
                          And sleyne the Geaunte stoute & fere.'
                        
                          When Ionas herd vtterlye
                        
                          That he was the noble knyȝt sir Gye,
                        
                          He fell on knees be-fore hym in hye:
                        
                          Gye hym toke vp full hastilye.
                          Line 8625 
                        
                          'A lord,' he seyd, 'Gye, mercye!
                        
                          Why go ye now thus porelye?
                        
                          Ne be ye man of mykell myȝt?
                        
                          Ther was neuer on erth a trewer knyȝt.
                        
                          Myn Erldom, sir, will I yow yeve
                          Line 8630 
                        
                          Euer more whilest that I leve.
                        
                          My sonnes all fyftene with me
                        
                          We will yow serue as oure lord free.
                        
                          We shall yow swere by god on rode
                        
                          That we shall neuer chalenge therof good
                          Line 8635 
                        
                          The mowntenaunce & valure of on penye,
                        
                          For ye have hyt won vtterlye:
                        
                          And ye ne had be, sertes, we had be dede.
                        
                          Now, gentill sir Gye, do be my rede.'

Page 491

                        
                          Sir Gye answeryd full noblye,
                          Line 8640 
                        
                          'Sir, much thanke and graunte mercye!
                        
                          To well ye quyte me my servyse
                        
                          Yf that ye dyd in such a wise.
                        
                          To my land now will I fare:
                        
                          Haue good day for euer-mare.'
                          Line 8645 
                        
                          They kyssed to-geder when they shuld goo:
                        
                          They wept whan gye departid, & made mykyll woo.

                        
                          Now wendyth sir Gye fro that place,
                        
                          And thanked allmyghty god of hys grace. [Caius MS. 107 page 190] 
                        
                          Forth he went to grece full ryght,
                          Line 8650 
                        
                          Of hys ded he was full lyght.
                        
                          When he had dwellyd a stonde thare
                        
                          To costantyne the noble can he fare.

                        
                          Speke we now of this storye [C line 8397] 
                        
                          Of hys wyfe, that trew ladye.
                          Line 8655 
                        
                          In all the world ys none here pere,
                        
                          So trew and so good in all manere.
                        
                          Sethen that sir Gye wente a-weye
                        
                          She blan nether nyght ne daye
                        
                          Power to fede, and chyrches to make,
                          Line 8660 
                        
                          And abbeyes to helpe for crystis sake,
                        
                          Weyes to make, & bryggis that were broke,
                        
                          And men that were in preson faste stoke.
                        
                          Nother for game, myrth, nor for glee
                        
                          Wold she lawȝe that men myȝt see.
                          Line 8665 
                        
                          The lady had a chyld full fayer:
                        
                          Of all her lond he shuld haue bene eyre.
                        
                          They crystyned hym, with-oute blame,

Page 492

                        
                          And clepyd hyt Reynbrown be name.
                        
                          The chyld was to herawd brought,
                          Line 8670 
                        
                          As the lady had in her thought.
                        
                          Herrawd hyt kept with gret honoure
                        
                          In hys owen wyves bowere:
                        
                          With two knyȝtis he dyd it kepe,
                        
                          Whether hit woke other slepe.
                          Line 8675 
                        
                          When hyt was vii yere old
                        
                          Hyt was both fayre, gentill, & bold:
                        
                          In ten yere, sertes, he waxed mor
                        
                          Than eny of xii yere that were thore. [Caius MS. 107 page 191] 
                        
                          Hyt be-fell so that rych merchauntis [C line 8421] 
                          Line 8680 
                        
                          Commyn from fer be-yonde Fraunce:
                        
                          Both syluer and gold they had plente,
                        
                          Menyvere and grice grete deynte,
                        
                          Clothes of gold and riche preciouse stonys,
                        
                          Spicery rich and good for the nonys.
                          Line 8685 
                        
                          At london they aryved than,
                        
                          And founden there kyng athelstone:
                        
                          A riche present they hym sente,
                        
                          And with her merchaundyse forth they wente
                        
                          Thorough-oute the lond in eche contre,
                          Line 8690 
                        
                          And to walyngford, that towne so free.
                        
                          Then was that towne grete and stronge
                        
                          I-closed with walles fayre and longe:
                        
                          Wel faire nobley was than there,
                        
                          That sythen was dystroyed with were.
                          Line 8695 
                        
                          The merchauntis were both curteys & hend,
                        
                          And to sir herrawd gun they wende,
                        
                          And yaue hym ryght a fayre presend,
                        
                          For he was lord of that londe.
                        
                          He toke hit with well good chere,
                          Line 8700 
                        
                          And thanked hem on feyre manere.
                        
                          The marchauntis sye the chyld goand,
                        
                          And in the hall fayre playande:
                        
                          Of hym they hadden swyth gret ferlye,

Page 493

                        
                          For he was so fayer & eke so semlye.
                          Line 8705 
                        
                          They askyd hys maisters two or thre
                        
                          Whoes was the chyld, þat was feyre & free.
                        
                          Hys maisters told hem a-none ryght
                        
                          He was sir Gye ys sonn, the noble knyght. [Caius MS. 107 page 192] 
                        
                          They preysed the fayernes of that chyld,
                          Line 8710 
                        
                          And thought in her hertis myld,
                        
                          Yf they myȝt gett the chyld ouer the see,
                        
                          All riche men shuld they than bee.
                        
                          Tho they yave the porter yeftis grete,
                        
                          For he schuld hem the chyld gette,
                          Line 8715 
                        
                          And so he dyd with-oute mare:
                        
                          To london faste gan they all fare.
                        
                          To schyppe they wente with grete traveyle:
                        
                          The wynd was good, they lyfte vp sayle.
                        
                          To Rochell they commyn full ryght:
                          Line 8720 
                        
                          The lond thei knew well, & were glad & lyght.
                        
                          They went to have Ryven ther at her wyll,
                        
                          But in a while they sped full yll:
                        
                          The wedyr be-gan to ouer-caste,
                        
                          Hit thondred and lyȝtned faste.
                          Line 8725 
                        
                          The weders smyten to-geder thene:
                        
                          A gret tempeste ther be-ganne.
                        
                          The see be-gan so harde to flowe,
                        
                          That they ne wiste whedir to rowe.
                        
                          The wawes resyn as hye as the maste:
                          Line 8730 
                        
                          Tho was eueryiche of hem sore a-gaste.
                        
                          The gret cabull brast in two:
                        
                          Tho wende thei to deth have goo.
                        
                          They hadden sorrow, I vndyrstonde:
                        
                          They cryed to god all weldande.
                          Line 8735 
                        
                          The wynde hem drofe in-to the see:
                        
                          They ne wyste in-to what contre.
                        
                          They sayled all a day and all a nyght:
                        
                          In Aufryke they aryved ryght. [Caius MS. 107 page 193] 
                        
                          The merchaundys well founde [C line 8477] 

                          Line 8740

Page 494

                        
                          Line 8740 
                        
                          That they were a-ryved in vn-couth lande:
                        
                          Forth they toke the chylde so yenge,
                        
                          And presentid hym to the kynge
                        
                          For to wende sikyrlye
                        
                          Thorough all the lond to sell and bye.
                          Line 8745 
                        
                          A Ioyfull man was the kyng,
                        
                          And graunted them all theyre askyng.
                        
                          The kyng, for-sothe, had a doughter dere,
                        
                          A feyre mayden and mery of chere:
                        
                          She was as old and no more
                          Line 8750 
                        
                          As Reynbrowne when he com thore.
                        
                          The mayd be-sowght her moder dere
                        
                          To byd her fader on all manere
                        
                          That she myght kepe the chyld there:
                        
                          The kyng her graunted with well good chere.
                          Line 8755

                        
                          When sir herrawd herd seye [C line 8497] 
                        
                          That the chyld was a-weye,
                        
                          He sowght hym thorrouw that Cyte
                        
                          And thorrough all that ylke contre.
                        
                          When herrawd had sought all that londe,
                          Line 8760 
                        
                          And none of them that chyld founde,
                        
                          Herrawd sorrowed nyght and daye
                        
                          For hys lordys son, that was a-weye.
                        
                          Herrawd hym sought in all manere
                        
                          In many dyuerse contre Far and nere,
                          Line 8765 
                        
                          But full carefull was hys rede,
                        
                          For he ne myght fynd hym in no stede.
                        
                          After that full sone in hye
                        
                          Kyng athelstone made a crye, [Caius MS. 107 page 194] 
                        
                          That ther shuld com be-fore hym ryght
                          Line 8770 
                        
                          Erle, baron, squyer, and knyght:
                        
                          All the wyse men of that londe
                        
                          Shuld be redy at hys honde.
                        
                          Sir herrawd gan thedyr fare.
                        
                          For the kyng hym loued mare
                          Line 8775 
                        
                          Than any man in that contree,

Page 495

                        
                          For he was both hend and Free,
                        
                          Therfor a-monge them had thei Envye,
                        
                          And seyd amongis them redylye
                        
                          That the kyng dyd on-ryght
                          Line 8780 
                        
                          To honoure so pore a knyght
                        
                          That was no better than a page:
                        
                          To hys barons he did outerage.
                        
                          'Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'yeld yow to me: [C line 8523] 
                        
                          Ye beth my men, and owte to be.
                          Line 8785 
                        
                          I byd yow yevyn me good counseyle
                        
                          That may all my londe aveyle.
                        
                          The kyng Awlaffe of Denmarke
                        
                          Will com on vs with oost starke:
                        
                          He hath caste, by this day,
                          Line 8790 
                        
                          To wynne this land yf he maye.
                        
                          Many wynters beth passid on honde,
                        
                          Sith thei fyrste chalengid this lande.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod herrawd, 'dred you nought:
                        
                          Ye shall do well as I have thought.
                          Line 8795 
                        
                          Yf he will com in-to your londe
                        
                          Ye shall fynd men hem to with-stonde.
                        
                          Ye haue meny a dowȝty knyght,
                        
                          And men that dare ryght well fyght. [Caius MS. 107 page 195] 
                        
                          Yf they com thei shall a-bye:
                          Line 8800 
                        
                          Makyth no doele, ne be not sorye.
                        
                          Of myn Eldren told me a knyȝte
                        
                          In-to this lond thei com full ryght,
                        
                          And sethen longe tyme a-goone
                        
                          Many of hem were here sloone:
                          Line 8805 
                        
                          A grete bateyle there they tynte
                        
                          Right with streng[t]he of swerdus dynte;
                        
                          Therfor haue thei loste there ryght:
                        
                          Thei were dyscomfyt in that fyght.
                        
                          Commaundith now youre barouns,
                          Line 8810 
                        
                          Lordys of castellis and townes,
                        
                          And youre knyghtis of Armes all,

Page 496

                        
                          That thei be redy when ye hem call,
                        
                          And that thei yow helpe in all manere
                        
                          What tyme ye of hem haue mystere,
                          Line 8815 
                        
                          For to hold youre lond to ryght
                        
                          Yf the Danys will with yow fyght.
                        
                          Youre men shall be all redye,
                        
                          And fyght with hem full manfullye:
                        
                          Thorough grace of god all weldande
                          Line 8820 
                        
                          We shall haue the hyer hande.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod the kyng, 'sanȝ fayle, [C line 8559] 
                        
                          This is a well good cownseyle.
                        
                          As thow haste seyd euery deale
                        
                          Hit shall be, so have I hele.'
                          Line 8825 
                        
                          Vp ther sterte the Duke moderyse in Ire:
                        
                          Of Cornweyle he was lord and sire.
                        
                          'Sir kyng,' he seyd, 'for your honoure,
                        
                          Levyth no more that losyngoure. [Caius MS. 107 page 196] 
                        
                          Youre barons have full yll wyll
                          Line 8830 
                        
                          Yow for to serue lowd or styll,
                        
                          When ye levyth more hym on
                        
                          Than your barouns euery-chone.
                        
                          Well better we can yow counceyle
                        
                          Both in werre and in bateyle
                          Line 8835 
                        
                          Than the traytour that I se there:
                        
                          Hys lord he hath be-trayed are,
                        
                          That made hym knyght of gret honour
                        
                          From a pore vavyssoure.
                        
                          He hath quyt full yll his dede
                          Line 8840 
                        
                          When he hath sold hys son for nede:
                        
                          To men of Oyseb he hym sold,
                        
                          And for hym meny peny told.
                        
                          He shall do yow, be ye aweye,
                        
                          All the scath that he maye,
                          Line 8845 
                        
                          And also your owen son be-gyle,
                        
                          And so wyll he quyte your while.'
                        
                          When herrawd herd that gret syre [C line 8587]

Page 497

                        
                          Vnneth he myght speke for tene & Ire.
                        
                          Vppon hys feete he sterte full yare
                          Line 8850 
                        
                          As man that was full wo thare.
                        
                          'Thow lyest,' quod herrawd, 'sothlye,
                        
                          When thow me clepyste of felonye.
                        
                          Thow doeste me velony and shame
                        
                          With-owte eny gylte or blame,
                          Line 8855 
                        
                          When thou before my lord the kyng
                        
                          Seyest on me ony such thyng.
                        
                          Yf thou wylt hyt avowe
                        
                          That thow hast seyd on me nowe, [Caius MS. 107 page 197] 
                        
                          Arme the full hastyly anone ryght,
                          Line 8860 
                        
                          And prove thi false word with thi myght.
                        
                          Yf I may not defende me
                        
                          Lett me be hangyd on a galoo tree.
                        
                          Thow haste me slaunderd of such thyng
                        
                          Here be-fore my lord the kyng,
                          Line 8865 
                        
                          That I shuld sell the child reynebrown,
                        
                          My lordys son sir Gyoun:
                        
                          As helpe me god, that me dere bought,
                        
                          As that thyng com neuer in my thought.
                        
                          Marchauntis, be god, verylye,
                          Line 8870 
                        
                          Stale the chyld be nyght prevylye.
                        
                          Sethen I wente and other three
                        
                          To Oysell, that fayre contree,
                        
                          But I found hym in no stede;
                        
                          Therfor sorrowfull ys my rede.
                          Line 8875 
                        
                          Whether I be false other nought,
                        
                          I am here in slaunder brought:
                        
                          Be-fore the kyng now here ryght
                        
                          I shall here my trouth plyght:
                        
                          Out of this land wyll I fare,
                          Line 8880 
                        
                          And com neuer ageyne mare,
                        
                          Or that I fynde my lordys sonn,
                        
                          Yf he be levyng vndyr the mone.
                        
                          Yf god will geve me grace

Page 498

                        
                          To fynd hym in eny place,
                          Line 8885 
                        
                          And com ageyne hole & fere,
                        
                          I shall the slee on all manere.'
                        
                          'Be still,' quod the Duke so fell,
                        
                          'The devyll the slee, that ys in hell. [Caius MS. 107 page 198] 
                        
                          While that thow arte in this contre,
                          Line 8890 
                        
                          Certes, traytoure shalt thou be.'
                        
                          And that herd a noble knyght, [C line 8627] 
                        
                          That sir herrawde wyste not whate he hyght.
                        
                          Be-fore the Duke he stood vp on hye,
                        
                          And seyd to hym with grete envye:
                          Line 8895 
                        
                          'Thow lyest, sir duke, be heven kyng,
                        
                          When thow on herraud seyest such thyng.
                        
                          Of felony and of treasoun
                        
                          Thow lyest, so broke [I] my croun.
                        
                          God helpe the neuer at thi nede
                          Line 8900 
                        
                          But thou arme the on a stede,
                        
                          And alone with me thow fyght:
                        
                          Than shall we see who hath the ryght.
                        
                          The helpe of god be me berevyd
                        
                          But I smyte of thyn he[v]ede.'
                          Line 8905 
                        
                          The kyng commaundyd on her lyfe
                        
                          That there shulde be no more stryfe.
                        
                          When the kyng had all seyd,
                        
                          And hys arrend on hem leyd,
                        
                          That thei shuld kepe hys lande,
                          Line 8910 
                        
                          And bene all redy at hys hande,
                        
                          Home thei went the knyȝtis fre,
                        
                          'Euery man to hys contre.
                        
                          Home tho went herrawd the free: [C line 8653] 
                        
                          To Walyngford, certes, went hee.
                          Line 8915 
                        
                          Herrawd had both sorrow and shame,
                        
                          For he was brought in much blame.
                        
                          He clepyd to hym sir Edgarde:
                        
                          'What redyst thow, sir stewarde, [Caius MS. 107 page 199] 
                        
                          Sith that it ys in this land seyd,

                          Line 8920

Page 499

                        
                          Line 8920 
                        
                          And with wrong on me leyd,
                        
                          That I shuld sell reynbrown,
                        
                          My lordys son sir Gyoun?
                        
                          Yet had I, for-soth, lever hangid be
                        
                          Than such slaunder ryse on me.
                          Line 8925 
                        
                          I wyll wend forth on my weye,
                        
                          And sech reynebrowne nyght and daye:
                        
                          I wyll leve for no mannus rede
                        
                          Tyll I hym fynde quyke or dede.
                        
                          Yf I dwell here at hame
                          Line 8930 
                        
                          All men shall speke of me shame,
                        
                          And seye that hit were no lesyng
                        
                          That the Duke told the kyng.
                        
                          Edgare,' he seyd, 'dwell thow here,
                        
                          And kepe my lande with thy powere,
                          Line 8935 
                        
                          And my chyld, and my wyfe,
                        
                          And my land with-owte stryfe.
                        
                          For-soth, a good man arte thow on:
                        
                          Trewer found I neuer none.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'for goddys love, mercy!
                          Line 8940 
                        
                          Belevyth at home, and leve youre foly,
                        
                          And I yow swere by the trynyte
                        
                          I wyll wende to fer contre:
                        
                          I ne shall blynne day nor nyght
                        
                          Tyll I have founden that chyld rygh[t].
                          Line 8945 
                        
                          I was onys sevyn yere
                        
                          In the see A marynere:
                        
                          In crystendome ther ys no londe
                        
                          Tha[t] I ne have be there dwelland. [Caius MS. 107 page 200] 
                        
                          Ye bene old and hore well yare,
                          Line 8950 
                        
                          And ye have ssofferd sorrow and care:
                        
                          Hyt fallyth for yow to leve at hame,
                        
                          And send some other in youre name.'
                        
                          'Edgare,' he seyd, 'speke no mare.
                        
                          I wyll not leve, but I wyll fare,
                          Line 8955 
                        
                          For all the good in crystyante,

Page 500

                        
                          But that I will seche reynbrown the free.
                        
                          Thow shalte here dwell, be myne hand,
                        
                          And kepe my good and my lande;
                        
                          For well I wot, when I am gone,
                          Line 8960 
                        
                          Myn Ennemyes wyll come anone,
                        
                          And be-sett the with bateyle:
                        
                          Defende the well, with-owte fayle.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'so god me amende,
                        
                          Yf they come we will vs defende.'
                          Line 8965

                        
                          NOw wendith herrawd from the cite, [C line 8683] 
                        
                          And toke leve of hys meyne.
                        
                          He hyed hym faste from that contre:
                        
                          A full carefull man was he.
                        
                          A shyp he found and passed yare,
                          Line 8970 
                        
                          And sowght reynbrowne wyd whare:
                        
                          In Denmarke and in Irelonde,
                        
                          In northwey and in scotlonde,
                        
                          In allmayne and in russye,
                        
                          In Sisoyne and in tu[r]kye
                          Line 8975 
                        
                          Euer his lordis son he sought,
                        
                          But, for-soth, he found hym nouȝt.
                        
                          When he myght not founden be
                        
                          In all this ylke straunge contre, [Caius MS. 107 page 201] 
                        
                          To constantyne the noble than wold he.
                          Line 8980 
                        
                          Tho come there a tempeste in the se,
                        
                          And hem chasyd full blyve:
                        
                          At Awferyke they gun aryve.
                        
                          He saw be-sydys hym on the lond
                        
                          A ryght fayer Cite stonde,
                          Line 8985 
                        
                          But, for-soth, the wallis of that town
                        
                          To the erth were brokyn down.
                        
                          'Lord,' quod than a marynere,
                        
                          'Moche sorrow we shall get here.
                        
                          We be now faste a-ryvand
                          Line 8990 
                        
                          Into the kyng Argus land.
                        
                          He ys a ryght rich kyng

Page 501

                        
                          Of gold, syluer, and other thyng.'
                        
                          Quod herrawd, 'who oweth this contre,
                        
                          That ys thus dystroyed, and this Cite?'
                          Line 8995 
                        
                          Then be-spake hym a shipman,
                        
                          'Sir, I shall tell yow all that I can.
                        
                          Hit is amerallys persane:
                        
                          There is no man so fell to flamiordan.
                        
                          He hateth crysten men ychone:
                          Line 9000 
                        
                          Well I wote we shall be slone.
                        
                          Kyng argus hath be-segyd hym here,
                        
                          And dystroyed his land ferre and nere.'
                        
                          With that there cam sarsynnys kene,
                        
                          And toke hem all, for-soth, be-dene,
                          Line 9005 
                        
                          Herrawd and hys company,
                        
                          And browt hem to her lord in hye:
                        
                          He caste hem in his preson all;
                        
                          Mete and drynke they had full small. [Caius MS. 107 page 202] 
                        
                          Tho the Duke Moderyse had vndyrstond [C line 8725] 
                          Line 9010 
                        
                          That the knyȝt sir herrawd was owt of lond,
                        
                          He gaderyd hys hooste of cornwayle:
                        
                          The steward faste he can assayle;
                        
                          But he hym defendyd day and nyȝt
                        
                          Full well as a noble knyȝt.
                          Line 9015 
                        
                          He waged men of that londe:
                        
                          Full rychely he hem fande,
                        
                          And yave hem gold and rich tresoure,
                        
                          And kept that lond with gret honoure.
                        
                          All that yere owt and owte
                          Line 9020 
                        
                          He defendyd hym well with-owte dowte.
                        
                          He yave the Duke bateyle stronge,
                        
                          And euer he slow hys men a-monge.
                        
                          A thowsand men he slow anone
                        
                          Of the Dukis men echone.
                          Line 9025 
                        
                          The Duke myght sped for no thyng
                        
                          Of hys long besegyng:
                        
                          To corneweyle he wente ageyne,

Page 503

And lefte hys men with shame slayne.

                        
                          Speke we now of sir Gyoun,
                          Line 9030 
                        
                          The noble knyȝt, the bold baroun.
                        
                          At all seyntis hath he bene
                        
                          That beth in grece or constantyne.
                        
                          He thought in hys herte thare
                        
                          That to ynglond wold he fare.
                          Line 9035 
                        
                          Fro thens hys wey hath he take,
                        
                          And walkyd thorough fryth and lake:
                        
                          With grete traveyle and grete payne
                        
                          Comyn he is to Allmayne. [Caius MS. 107 page 203] 
                        
                          As he com on a daye
                          Line 9040 
                        
                          Ther as a brod wey leye,
                        
                          A feyre crose he saw stondyng,
                        
                          And ther-vndyr a pore pilgrym syttyng.
                        
                          He mad sorrow in all thyng,
                        
                          And euer he seyd with gret mornyng,
                          Line 9045 
                        
                          'Alas, my sorrow that ys so stronge,
                        
                          And my lyfe that lastyth longe!'
                        
                          When Gye hym saw he had pyte,
                        
                          And seyd to hym with herte free,
                        
                          'I requere the here nowe,
                          Line 9050 
                        
                          So god the shyld fro sorrow,
                        
                          That thow me sey with good herte
                        
                          Fro whens thow come, & what thow arte.'
                        
                          And he answeryd, 'leve fere,
                        
                          Yf that I tell the here,
                          Line 9055 
                        
                          I wote well thow woldyst have gret pyte,
                        
                          And I neuer the better be.'
                        
                          Gye answeryd, 'leve sir, naye:
                        
                          Thou myȝt be amendid in som weye.
                        
                          Par aventure I may tell the in faye
                          Line 9060 
                        
                          How thy sorrow shall a-weye;
                        
                          For hyt fallyth well to straunge men

Page 505

                        
                          Eyther other wysdom to ken.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'the soth I sey the,
                        
                          Hyt were gret Almes to tech me.
                          Line 9065 
                        
                          Trewly, sir, I shall yow tell
                        
                          All my sorrow, how that hyt be-fell.
                        
                          I was a knyȝt of Riche londe,
                        
                          And had castellis & toures in my hande. [Caius MS. 107 page 204] 
                        
                          Of Good me[n] I had plentee:
                          Line 9070 
                        
                          All the land full sore dred me.
                        
                          In crystendome was ther no land
                        
                          That I [ne] was in preysed for dred of hond;
                        
                          For I was both bold and hende,
                        
                          And had many a good freende.
                          Line 9075 
                        
                          Gold and siluer I had plente
                        
                          For me and my meyne:
                        
                          Now have I nought on penye
                        
                          Where-with I may my mete bye.
                        
                          Now am I a pore caytyfe:
                          Line 9080 
                        
                          Hit ys no wonder though I hate my lyfe.'
                        
                          For sorrow myght he speke no more:
                        
                          With hys eyen he wept sore.
                        
                          'Pylgrym,' quod Gye, 'what is thi name?
                        
                          Whedir wylt thow, & fro wens thow came?'
                          Line 9085 
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'lett be thy fare:
                        
                          For goddis love, aske me no mare
                        
                          What I hyght, ne what I am:
                        
                          Certes, to tell the me thynkyth shame.
                        
                          Yf I shuld all my lyfe tell
                          Line 9090 
                        
                          All to long shuld I dwell.
                        
                          Whi askyst me such thynge,
                        
                          When thow myȝt do me no mendyng?
                        
                          I had lever som-what to get
                        
                          Where-with I myȝt bye me mete.'
                          Line 9095 
                        
                          Gye answeryd, 'now tell thow me:
                        
                          For hys love that dyed on tree,

Page 507

                        
                          Tell me thy name, spare thow nouȝt,
                        
                          And who hath the in such sorrow brought, [Caius MS. 107 page 205] 
                        
                          For god, in whome ys thi creaunce,
                          Line 9100 
                        
                          And as he the sent allegeaunce.
                        
                          Oure mete than will we bye;
                        
                          For I have yet a peny or twaye.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'I will yow seye:
                        
                          I wyll not lye, be thys daye.
                          Line 9105 
                        
                          My name was som-tyme Erle terry:
                        
                          A full riche man was I,
                        
                          And now I am a wrecchyd caytyf;
                        
                          Me for-thynkyth I have my lyfe.
                        
                          In Gornoyse was I bore,
                          Line 9110 
                        
                          And all that lond was to me swore.
                        
                          I had a fellow that hyght gyoun:
                        
                          Sithen that god suffred bitter passioun,
                        
                          Was neuer trewer knyght borne,
                        
                          No better man that rose on morne.
                          Line 9115 
                        
                          We were fellowes and trouth-plyȝte:
                        
                          We lovyd well to-geder day and nyght.
                        
                          So lovyd he me, thorough hys rede
                        
                          That twyes he savyd me fro the dede.
                        
                          Hit be-fell so, that ilke Gye
                          Line 9120 
                        
                          Slow the Duke of Pavye:
                        
                          He hym slow, trewlye,
                        
                          For he had hym don velonye.
                        
                          Amonge hys men euery-chone
                        
                          He hym slow, and hys way was gone.
                          Line 9125 
                        
                          He brought from hym my leman dere,
                        
                          For whom I goo in this manere.
                        
                          Thys ylke duke had a cosyn,
                        
                          Hys syster son, a well bold hyn. [Caius MS. 107 page 206] 
                        
                          Berrard of pavy ys hys name;
                          Line 9130 
                        
                          God geve hym som worldly shame.

Page 509

                        
                          He was tho but a esquyer:
                        
                          He had seruyd the Empere[r].
                        
                          The Emperoure lovyd hym well,
                        
                          And yave hym pavy euery deale.
                          Line 9135 
                        
                          That ilke berrard tho be-gan
                        
                          For to be a stowte man,
                        
                          And so prowd, and so fell,
                        
                          That no man myȝt with hym dwell.
                        
                          In this world ys none hys pere,
                          Line 9140 
                        
                          Ne non so stronge, ne non so fere;
                        
                          For he ys more dred alone
                        
                          Than a hundryth knyȝtis ychone.
                        
                          Yf a man were armyd well
                        
                          Both in Iren and in stele,
                          Line 9145 
                        
                          And he hym hyt in the fylde,
                        
                          But he hyt kept in the shylde,
                        
                          Clenly with hys swerdys dynte
                        
                          Fro the hede, or hyt wold stynte,
                        
                          Hit shuld wade to the Gyrdyll Evyn,
                          Line 9150 
                        
                          And slee hym, by god of hevyn.
                        
                          Thow herdyst neuer speke of knyȝt
                        
                          In thys world that ys so wyȝte.
                        
                          There ys none so stronge borne in this lond,
                        
                          And he hym hyt with hys hond,
                          Line 9155 
                        
                          But he wyll breke hys nek in two
                        
                          At on stroke with-owte moo.
                        
                          Berrard ys so fell a page,
                        
                          And so stowte of hys parage, [Caius MS. 107 page 207] 
                        
                          There ys no knyȝt in all thys lond
                          Line 9160 
                        
                          That ys so bold and wyȝt of hond,
                        
                          Yf they were wroth, the knyȝtis stowte,
                        
                          And hys yen ran abowte,
                        
                          But that he shuld for dred quake,
                        
                          And fle a-wey for hys sake.
                          Line 9165 
                        
                          For he ys so wyght of honde,
                        
                          He ys drad ouer all the londe.

Page 511

                        
                          Hys steward hym made the emperoure,
                        
                          And yave hym ryght gret honoure;
                        
                          For he ys more dred alone
                          Line 9170 
                        
                          Than hys barounys euery-chone.
                        
                          Yf thow were Duke or erle in lond,
                        
                          But yf thow were to hym bowand,
                        
                          The steward wold sone aryse
                        
                          And dystroy the in all wyse,
                          Line 9175 
                        
                          Other he wold the take sone,
                        
                          And to stronge preson I-done.
                        
                          Yet men dredyth hym well more.
                        
                          Yf a pore man the[r] wore,
                        
                          And he hym lovyd with herte free,
                          Line 9180 
                        
                          He myȝt be man of gret poweste.
                        
                          Were he Duke, Erle, or knyȝt,
                        
                          Were he neuer so riche a wyȝt,
                        
                          Yf hym had wrothyd prince or kyng,
                        
                          Were he neuer so hye a lordynge,
                          Line 9185 
                        
                          He wold hym bryng to the grownde,
                        
                          And make hym power in a stounde.
                        
                          Hyt be-fell that the emperoure
                        
                          Had a councell in this manere [Caius MS. 107 page 208] 
                        
                          Of dukis, Erlys, and barouns:
                          Line 9190 
                        
                          They com to hym, he made somons.
                        
                          Thedyr I com with gret maine:
                        
                          An C knyȝtis cam with me.
                        
                          When I cam be-fore the Emperoure,
                        
                          Berrard acouped me thore,
                          Line 9195 
                        
                          And seyd Duke Otown thorough my rede,
                        
                          Hys cosyn, was done the dede.
                        
                          When I hym herd of treason speke,
                        
                          Me thought myn herte wold to-breke.
                        
                          Forth I sterte hardyly,
                          Line 9200 
                        
                          For to defend me of that felonye.
                        
                          I yave my glove be-fore the kyng,
                        
                          With hym to fyght, with-owt lesyng,

Page 513

                        
                          And a-yen all other men
                        
                          That couth owte seye ageynste me then.
                          Line 9205 
                        
                          The emperoure hit toke full ryght,
                        
                          But I ne wyste when I shuld fyght.
                        
                          In all the courte ne founde I man
                        
                          That durste be my borrow than
                        
                          For dred of the Duke berrarde.
                          Line 9210 
                        
                          Tho hit fell with me so harde:
                        
                          He put me tho at hys wyll
                        
                          In hys depe preson still.
                        
                          He seasod all my land sone,
                        
                          And so he wold my wyfe have done,
                          Line 9215 
                        
                          But she ys hyd in stronge stede,
                        
                          But I not where, so god me spede.
                        
                          When I was in preson thare,
                        
                          Nyght and day I was in care. [Caius MS. 107 page 209] 
                        
                          Thorough me he wende to wynne
                          Line 9220 
                        
                          Sir Gye with som false Gynne.
                        
                          Were he a-vengid of sir Gyoune
                        
                          Thorowgh falsed and treasoune,
                        
                          Also sone shuld I be dede:
                        
                          For me shuld go no gold so rede.
                          Line 9225 
                        
                          In hys preson was I longe,
                        
                          And suffred paynes ryght stronge.
                        
                          There-in was neuer more lyght
                        
                          Than if were derke myd-nyght.
                        
                          Ete I neuer ther my fill,
                          Line 9230 
                        
                          Spake I neuer ther with man my fyll.
                        
                          My frendys com at the laste,
                        
                          And prayed the Emperoure for me faste,
                        
                          And yave him meny yeftis thoo,
                        
                          And they dyd berrard also,
                          Line 9235 
                        
                          That I myght wend oute of preson
                        
                          Vndyr such a condicion,
                        
                          That I shuld wend and feche Gyoun
                        
                          Thorough euery lond and euery towne.

Page 515

                        
                          I shall neuer blyn day ne nyȝte
                          Line 9240 
                        
                          Tyll I fynd Gye, the noble knyght,
                        
                          And bryng hym be-fore the Emperoure,
                        
                          For to defend hym of that treytoure,
                        
                          And of that grete owtrage
                        
                          Before all hys baronage,
                          Line 9245 
                        
                          And for to defende hym and me
                        
                          For thyng that we apechyd be.
                        
                          Tho went I forth with care and tene:
                        
                          In many a lande sethen have I bene. [Caius MS. 107 page 210] 
                        
                          Fer have I sowght Gye, my trew fere,
                          Line 9250 
                        
                          In Englond fer and nere.
                        
                          When I come there, I founde hym nought:
                        
                          On sir herrawd was all my thought.
                        
                          Both were they fer owte of londe:
                        
                          That tydyng doth me both shame & shonde.
                          Line 9255 
                        
                          Herrawd sowght nyght and daye
                        
                          Hys lordys son, that was stole a-weye.
                        
                          Sir Gye was in excile wente:
                        
                          Therfor I hold me but shente.
                        
                          Was neuer man, there as I couth Goo,
                          Line 9260 
                        
                          That couth owte tell of hem twoo.
                        
                          Sethen I have sowght Gye the free
                        
                          In many a lande and many a contree,
                        
                          Found I neuer man by the weye
                        
                          That ought of Gye couth me seye.
                          Line 9265 
                        
                          Full well I wote that he ys dede:
                        
                          Therfor full sorow-full ys my reede.'
                        
                          With that he syghed swyth sare
                        
                          As man that was in mykyll care.
                        
                          When Gye saw terry so dyght,
                          Line 9270 
                        
                          That was som-tyme a noble knyght,
                        
                          He lokyd on hym vtterlye;
                        
                          For he hym lovyd trewlye.
                        
                          He saw him pore for the nonys:
                        
                          He had not to hill with hys bonys.

                          Line 9275

Page 517

                        
                          Line 9275 
                        
                          Hys leggis were bare and yll be-sene,
                        
                          That were wonde to were scarlet & grene.
                        
                          For sorrow sir Gye fell to grounde,
                        
                          And laye in a sownde a grete stounde. [Caius MS. 107 page 211] 
                        
                          When Terry sye hym so lye,
                          Line 9280 
                        
                          He toke hym vp full hastilye.
                        
                          Quod terry, 'sir, beth of Good herte.
                        
                          This Evyll begynneth yow to smerte.
                        
                          Tell me, yf hit be youre will,
                        
                          How longe ye have fared thus yll.'
                          Line 9285 
                        
                          Quod Gye, 'hit ys not longe agone,
                        
                          Seth this Evyll com me one.'
                        
                          'For-soth,' quod terry thanne,
                        
                          'Hit ys grevaunce to ech mane.
                        
                          This day twelmoneth,' quod terry, 'hit was
                          Line 9290 
                        
                          To seche Gye that I can passe.
                        
                          Sethen I restyd neuer on daye
                        
                          There I on the nyght laye,
                        
                          That I have bene euer travellande,
                        
                          What by see, and what by londe.
                          Line 9295 
                        
                          As I me walkyd in my weye
                        
                          Here with-yne this thyrd daye
                        
                          Hit was me told, with-oute fayle,
                        
                          At spire ther shuld be a gret counceyle
                        
                          Be-fore the Emperoure Reynere:
                          Line 9300 
                        
                          All his lordis shuld be thare.
                        
                          Ther ys no lord in that contree
                        
                          But he shall at that counceyle be.
                        
                          Ryght thanne ys my terme daye
                        
                          To come a-geyne, yf that I maye,
                          Line 9305 
                        
                          And bryng Gye in my honde,
                        
                          Yf that he be in world levande;

Page 519

                        
                          And, yf I myght not fynd hym no-where,
                        
                          I shuld in this land com neuere; [Caius MS. 107 page 212] 
                        
                          And, yf I com, I shuld be dede:
                          Line 9310 
                        
                          Ther-for can I no kynnes rede,
                        
                          Whether I wend to take my payne,
                        
                          Or I now turne ageyne.'
                        
                          Gye hym herd thus sorrowand:
                        
                          For sorrow he myght not stonde.
                          Line 9315 
                        
                          'Lord,' he seyd, 'of myghtis stronge,
                        
                          Whi leve I now thus longe,
                        
                          That I se this noble knyght
                        
                          At this tyme this rewly dyght?
                        
                          Trewer fellaw than he was won
                          Line 9320 
                        
                          In the wo[r]ld found I none.
                        
                          Hangid be I this ilke daye
                        
                          But I a-venge hym, yf that I maye.
                        
                          Myght I speke with the Duke at my will,
                        
                          That of his dedys ys so yll,
                          Line 9325 
                        
                          But I revyd hym hys lyfe
                        
                          Other with spere or with knyfe,
                        
                          And avenge terry, my good fellow,
                        
                          God lett me neuer heven knowe.'
                        
                          Then spake sir Gye to terry,
                          Line 9330 
                        
                          'Leve sir, be not sorye:
                        
                          Hyt wyll the helpe no-thyng
                        
                          To make sorrow or mornynge.
                        
                          Go we now the corte nerehande,
                        
                          Som tydyng to vndirstonde,
                          Line 9335 
                        
                          That we now the better be.'
                        
                          Quod terry, 'leve sir, Go we.'
                        
                          They toke ther wey towarde the cite:
                        
                          Terry a carefull man was he; [Caius MS. 107 page 213] 
                        
                          Gye ys herte was sore also,
                          Line 9340 
                        
                          As they gan to-geder goo:
                        
                          He myght hym hold no-thyng,
                        
                          When he saw terry, from wepyng.

Page 521

                        
                          He coverd his face with hys slaveyne,
                        
                          For terry shuld not se hys payne.
                          Line 9345 
                        
                          When they had go myles three
                        
                          Towardys that good Cite,
                        
                          'Lord,' quod terry, 'what shall I do?
                        
                          Such hevynes ys com me to,
                        
                          But I slepe here a while,
                          Line 9350 
                        
                          I dye, or I have gone a myle.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'lye down here still
                        
                          A good while, and slepe thi fill;
                        
                          And I shall for the love of the
                        
                          At thyne heed here restyn me.'
                          Line 9355 
                        
                          'Sir,' quod terry, 'Graunte mercye,
                        
                          That yt ys your grete curtesye!'

                        
                          Tho lay terry down to grounde,
                        
                          And slepid in Gyes armes a stounde:
                        
                          Full faste tho gan he slepe,
                          Line 9360 
                        
                          And as faste for hym Gye gan wepe.
                        
                          As terry lay there in slepyng,
                        
                          Oute of his mouth wente a thyng
                        
                          As hit were a white Ermyne:
                        
                          Sir Gye be-held it, be seynt martyn.
                          Line 9365 
                        
                          To an hylle it wente than:
                        
                          Hit founde an hole, and in hit ran.
                        
                          Hit dwellyd not longe, as I yow saye:
                        
                          Hyt come ageyne the same daye. [Caius MS. 107 page 214] 
                        
                          In at hys mouth gan hit goo,
                          Line 9370 
                        
                          There hit cam be-fore-hand froo.
                        
                          When Gye this wonder all had sene,
                        
                          He had wondre what it myght bene.
                        
                          Terry a-waked a-non thore:
                        
                          Vp he arose, and syghed sore.
                          Line 9375 
                        
                          'Lord,' he seyd, 'hevyn kyng,
                        
                          That I have met much wonder thyng!
                        
                          Me thought I was to an hyll goon:
                        
                          I founde a roche all of stone.
                        
                          Full hit was of gold rede;

                          Line 9380

Page 523

                        
                          Line 9380 
                        
                          Thervpon there lay a dragon dede,
                        
                          And a swerd by hym laye:
                        
                          Ys none better of stele this daye.
                        
                          Also me thouȝt that sir Gye,
                        
                          My dere fellow, was me bye:
                          Line 9385 
                        
                          Myn hede in hys lap laye;
                        
                          Tho was my sorrow all a-weye.'
                        
                          Then seyd Gye, 'my dere frende,
                        
                          Thorough grace of god, that is so hende,
                        
                          Yet shalt thow wyn thorow Gyoun
                          Line 9390 
                        
                          All thi land, castell, and towne.
                        
                          Aryse vp,' quod Gye, 'with-owt lettyng:
                        
                          With the grace of god hevyn kyng
                        
                          Well shall we fare this ylke daye.'
                        
                          Toward spire they tokyn the waye.
                          Line 9395 
                        
                          'Pylgryme,' quod Gye, 'I red we abyde,
                        
                          And [wende] to thys hyll here-be-syde,
                        
                          There thow thought this treasoure laye.
                        
                          Thorough grace yf we fynd hit maye, [Caius MS. 107 page 215] 
                        
                          Hit may vs helpe in all manere;
                          Line 9400 
                        
                          Therof we have gret mystere.'
                        
                          'I Graunte,' quod terry, 'be this daye.
                        
                          Go we thedir with-owte delaye.'
                        
                          To the hyll they com in hye,
                        
                          And founden all such redylye
                          Line 9405 
                        
                          As terry dremyd: there they founde
                        
                          The treasoure and the good bronde.
                        
                          The swerd was bryght and styf I-nowȝe:
                        
                          Owt of the scuberd Gye it drowgh.
                        
                          'God of hevyn,' quod Gye than,
                          Line 9410 
                        
                          'Where this euer longyd to crysten man?
                        
                          Never be-fore saw I such a brande.

Page 525

                        
                          Hit was made in fer londe.'
                        
                          The pomell was corven euery deale
                        
                          With brynned gold nobly well.
                          Line 9415 
                        
                          Of that swerd Gye was full fayne,
                        
                          And put hyt into the sheth a-geyne.
                        
                          Then he seyd to sir terrye,
                        
                          'This treasoure that thow syeste here lye,
                        
                          Take thow all to thy poweste,
                          Line 9420 
                        
                          But this swerd shall dwell with me.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod terry, 'at your wyll.
                        
                          Of treasure have I sone my fyll.
                        
                          There is so gret sorrow in my thought,
                        
                          That of treasoure rech I nowȝt.
                          Line 9425 
                        
                          To the Cite will we gange:
                        
                          Me thynketh we dwell here to long.'
                        
                          'Par fay, gladly,' quod sir Gye:
                        
                          Both they went forth in hye. [Caius MS. 107 page 216] 
                        
                          Terry was a-gaste knowen to be
                          Line 9430 
                        
                          Of som man that shuld hym see.
                        
                          When they comyn to that Cyte
                        
                          Sory man and wery was he.
                        
                          They herborowed them at the townes ende:
                        
                          After mete and drynke gan they send.
                          Line 9435 
                        
                          Sir Gye rose vp, full hardelye,
                        
                          And lefte hys swerd with sir terrye,
                        
                          And hyed hym faste to the towre,
                        
                          To speke with the emperoure.
                        
                          The Emperoure from chyrch come,
                          Line 9440 
                        
                          Gye hym mete or he com home.
                        
                          Gye hym gret well curteslye
                        
                          As he cowd, well securlye.
                        
                          'God save yow, my lord, sir Emperoure,'
                        
                          Quod Gye, 'and yeve yow much honoure.

                          Line 9445

Page 527

                        
                          Line 9445 
                        
                          A pylgrym I am of ferr contree:
                        
                          I aske some good for charite.
                        
                          Of your helpe have I mystere
                        
                          As ye mow se in all manere.'
                        
                          Quod the emperour, 'full gladlye
                          Line 9450 
                        
                          I wyll the help, be seynt marye.
                        
                          To my paleys thow com with me:
                        
                          Thow shalte have mete gret plente.'

                        
                          Tho they commyn to the hall
                        
                          The emperour and hys men all,
                          Line 9455 
                        
                          The which a-non to mete yode,
                        
                          And euer sir Gye before hym stode.
                        
                          'Pylgrym,' quod the Emperoure,
                        
                          'Tell me, I pray the par amoure, [Caius MS. 107 page 217] 
                        
                          Where were thou born & in what contre?
                          Line 9460 
                        
                          Thow semyst well travellyd to be.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'ye may vndyrstond
                        
                          That I haue be in meny a londe,
                        
                          In ierusalem and in surrey,
                        
                          In constantyne the noble, for-soth, was I.'
                          Line 9465 
                        
                          'Pylgrym,' he seyd, 'be thy lewte,
                        
                          What seyth men ther of me?'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'ye shall here:
                        
                          Both shame & also harme in all manere,
                        
                          When ye thorough false counceyle
                          Line 9470 
                        
                          Of the steward, that may not avayle,
                        
                          Hath banesshyd terry, the noble knyȝt,
                        
                          And meny an other with-owt ryght;
                        
                          Therfor ye havyth, sir, a shame,
                        
                          And in this land much blame.

                          Line 9475

Page 529

                        
                          Line 9475 
                        
                          Ye do your-selfe gret dyshonoure
                        
                          To leve so well that losyngoure.'
                        
                          When duke berrard herd what Gye seyd,
                        
                          He be-gan vp to brayde.
                        
                          He faryd as a wod man,
                          Line 9480 
                        
                          And he wold have smytten Gye than,
                        
                          But men hym held that stodyn bye,
                        
                          That he dyd no harme to Gye.
                        
                          He seyd, 'thow lyest, false treytour:
                        
                          I was neuer losyngoure.
                          Line 9485 
                        
                          Yf hyt ne were for dyshonoure
                        
                          Of my lord the Emperoure,
                        
                          I shuld shake thy berd so sore,
                        
                          Thy teth shuld fall owte the be-fore. [Caius MS. 107 page 218] 
                        
                          Thow art a trowant swyth stronge:
                          Line 9490 
                        
                          Thys lyf hast thow led full longe.
                        
                          Yf I the fynd with-owt the towne,
                        
                          I shall the caste in my presone.
                        
                          This VII yere ne gettyst thow a-weye,
                        
                          Ne shall wyt whether hit be nyȝt or daye.
                          Line 9495 
                        
                          So shall men tech glotouns
                        
                          For to myssey gentill barouns.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'yt ys yee?
                        
                          Ȝe owght a gentil man to be.
                        
                          I saw yow neuer are,' quod sir Gye;
                          Line 9500 
                        
                          'Ye semeth a bold man and a hardye.
                        
                          To do a pore man velonye
                        
                          Hyt were shame to yow, sekerlye.
                        
                          Hyt shuld yow torne to gret owtrage:
                        
                          Sir, ye beth so hye of lynage.

                          Line 9505

Page 531

                        
                          Line 9505 
                        
                          I seyd none other thyng
                        
                          Here vnto my lord the kyng,
                        
                          But with synne and vnryght
                        
                          Ye have dystroyed terry the knyȝt,
                        
                          And chasyd hym owte of this land,
                          Line 9510 
                        
                          For that ye beryth hym wrong on hand,
                        
                          That your cosyn shuld be dede
                        
                          Thorough hym and thorough hys rede:
                        
                          Ofte I have herd trewlye
                        
                          1[That he was nothynge geltye.'
                          Line 9515 
                        
                          Then spake þe dewke wyth yre,
                        
                          'Be god, that made water and fyre,]1
                        
                          That thow were that ilke knyȝt
                        
                          That durst for sir terry fyght!'
                        
                          Gye answeryd with-owte more
                          Line 9520 
                        
                          (He saw the Duke agrevyd sore),
                        
                          He seyd, 'yf my lord the emperoure wyll [Caius MS. 107 page 219] 
                        
                          Fyndyn me that longith tyll,
                        
                          Lo me here, sir, all redye
                        
                          To take the bateyle for sir terrye.
                          Line 9525 
                        
                          He slew neuer the Duke Otoun,
                        
                          The false Duke, that wyked glotoune.'
                        
                          Quod Gye to the emperoure,
                        
                          'Have here my wed, for your honoure:
                        
                          With hym, for-soth, wyll I fyght,
                          Line 9530 
                        
                          And help sir terry in hys ryght.'
                        
                          The Emperoure with mornyng chere
                        
                          Toke the wed of Gye there.
                        
                          He seyd, 'pylgrym, so god the save,
                        
                          All that the nedyth thow shalt have.'
                          Line 9535 
                        
                          With that he began to sygh sore,
                        
                          So dyd all that there wore.

Page 533

                        
                          Vp stert berrard, the gret syre,
                        
                          As man that was full of tene and Ire.
                        
                          'Pylgryme,' he seyd, 'thow arte full stowte,
                          Line 9540 
                        
                          Prowd, and bold, with-owte dowte,
                        
                          When thow haste wagid thys bateyle;
                        
                          For I the sey, with-owt fayle,
                        
                          The devyll the bad do this dede.
                        
                          Thow haste hym seruyd: thys ys thi mede.
                          Line 9545 
                        
                          The grace of god be me berevyd
                        
                          But I smyte of thy he[v]ed.'
                        
                          'Sir Emperoure,' quod Gyoun,
                        
                          'Herkyn here to my reasoun:
                        
                          Here ys no man that knoweth me;
                          Line 9550 
                        
                          Com I am from fer contree.
                        
                          Armoure have I none redye [Caius MS. 107 page 220] 
                        
                          Ne gold where-with to bye.
                        
                          As ye beth man of much myght,
                        
                          To helpe the pore thorough ryght,
                          Line 9555 
                        
                          And at ned to do hym socoure
                        
                          Hit ys to yow gret honoure.'
                        
                          To-fore the Emperoure they stod ychone,
                        
                          Both her weddus he toke anone.
                        
                          Sethen he commaundyd hem anone ryȝt
                          Line 9560 
                        
                          Erly on the morrow to be dyght.
                        
                          He wyll algate the bateyle see:
                        
                          He bad erlych it shuld be.
                        
                          The Duke yod home full swyth
                        
                          Full of wrath and vnblyth.
                          Line 9565 
                        
                          The emperoure clepyd hys dowȝter dere,
                        
                          And bad her in all manere
                        
                          She shuld kepe the pylgrym well,
                        
                          And arme hym both in Iren and stele.
                        
                          She dyd as her fader her bad,
                          Line 9570 
                        
                          And into chamber she hym lad.
                        
                          She wold hym cloth & bathe wele,

Page 535

                        
                          But therof wold he neuer a dele.
                        
                          He bad her for god all-myȝt
                        
                          To arme hym well at all ryght.
                          Line 9575 
                        
                          All the men of that Cyte
                        
                          Had wonder what yt myȝt be
                        
                          That durst ayenst the duke fyȝte:
                        
                          They prayed for hym both day and nyȝt,
                        
                          That god shuld geve the pylgrym grace
                          Line 9580 
                        
                          To slee the Duke in the place.
                        
                          Full Erly rose the Emperoure, [Caius MS. 107 page 221] 
                        
                          And herd masse with grete honoure.
                        
                          To hys paleyse ys he gone
                        
                          With hys barounus euery-chone.
                          Line 9585 
                        
                          All redy was the Duke berrard
                        
                          As stowte as a lyon other lyberd,
                        
                          Armyd vpon a stede:
                        
                          To the court men Gon hym lede.
                        
                          I wote the mayd for-yate nought,
                          Line 9590 
                        
                          To arme the pylgrym was all her thought:
                        
                          She dyd [hym] have a well good stede,
                        
                          That seker was at euery nede.
                        
                          Hys good swerd for-yate he nought:
                        
                          Hyt was full prevyly to hym brought;
                          Line 9595 
                        
                          He dyd hyt fett from sir terry,
                        
                          That no man saw, full prevylye.
                        
                          Therof he had gret mystere,
                        
                          As ye shall afterward here.
                        
                          Well she armyd hym that may
                          Line 9600 
                        
                          In all maner that he couth say.
                        
                          She brought hym to the emperoure,

Page 537

                        
                          That was a man of gret honoure.
                        
                          All the men that sye sir Gye
                        
                          Of hym they had gret ferlye;
                          Line 9605 
                        
                          For he was so feyre and wyght,
                        
                          When he was armyd at hys ryght.
                        
                          All they sware be seynt Richere
                        
                          That was not the pore palmere
                        
                          That toke the bateyle for to fyȝte:
                          Line 9610 
                        
                          He semyd well a dowȝty knyght.'
                        
                          'Lordyngis,' quod the Emperoure, [Caius MS. 107 page 222] 
                        
                          'Herkenyth to me par amoure.
                        
                          These two knyȝtis, that stondyth here,
                        
                          They beth men of grete powere:
                          Line 9615 
                        
                          A bateyle they have wagid here,
                        
                          Well ye wote in whate manere.
                        
                          Thys pylgrym, that stondyth me bye,
                        
                          Shall defende the Erle terrye
                        
                          Of felony and of treasoun,
                          Line 9620 
                        
                          And of the dukis deth Otown
                        
                          Ayenst this Duke sir berrard,
                        
                          That hath hym apechyd full harde
                        
                          Of Otown hys cosyn ys deth,
                        
                          That he was slayne thorow terry ys reth.
                          Line 9625 
                        
                          Now shall ye see this bateyle
                        
                          Hastyly with-owten fayle.'
                        
                          All they seyd at on assent,
                        
                          'We wyll hyt se with good entent.'
                        
                          Oppon an hyll be-syd the Cite
                          Line 9630 
                        
                          Ther was the bateyle ordeyned to be.
                        
                          The boke was brought hem be-forne:
                        
                          When they had her othes sworne,
                        
                          To the hyll gan they gone,
                        
                          And to-gedyr smote anone.
                          Line 9635 
                        
                          Ther be-gan a gret bateyle:
                        
                          Eyther gan other fast assayle.

Page 539

                        
                          Tho smote they to-gedyr faste,
                        
                          Whiles ther wepon wold laste.
                        
                          There be-gan a stronge fyght:
                          Line 9640 
                        
                          They smot on helmys, that were bryght.
                        
                          They brekyn steroppis and paytrellis, [Caius MS. 107 page 223] 
                        
                          And theyre sperys euery-deale,
                        
                          But her hawberkis wold not ryve.
                        
                          Down of theyre stedis gan they dryve.
                          Line 9645 
                        
                          Now be they on the erth both:
                        
                          Full sone I wene they will be wroth.
                        
                          On her stedys they lepyn, sans dowt;
                        
                          Non dred other: they were so stowt.
                        
                          They drew swerdys stowt and stronge,
                          Line 9650 
                        
                          And fought to-gedyr swyth long.
                        
                          The dyntis on helmys were so stoute,
                        
                          That all the hyll dynned a-bowt.
                        
                          They breke hawberkis and shyldys:
                        
                          The pecis flow into the fyldys.
                          Line 9655 
                        
                          Sir Gye was armyd well thore,
                        
                          But the Duke had armour more:
                        
                          He had two helmys styf and bryȝt,
                        
                          And two hawberkis for dred of fyȝt.
                        
                          They were set with preciouse stonys
                          Line 9660 
                        
                          All a-bowte for the nonys.
                        
                          Well grete and stronge was that bateyle:
                        
                          Her horse were stronge, with-owt fayle.
                        
                          They seyd a-mong hem eche man
                        
                          That seyen the bateyle than
                          Line 9665 
                        
                          That Gye was erthly man none:
                        
                          Of hevyn he was an angell one,
                        
                          Other ellys a man of fer londe:
                        
                          He myȝt not ellys the Duke with-stond.

Page 541

                        
                          Whether of hem were the hardyer
                          Line 9670 
                        
                          Wyst they not that ther were.
                        
                          All the Cite, with-owt fayle, [Caius MS. 107 page 224] 
                        
                          Comyn to se that bateyle:
                        
                          Men and women, chyldren also,
                        
                          Monkis and frerys thedyr gan go;
                          Line 9675 
                        
                          Lasse and more in that Citee
                        
                          All they comyn that bateyle to see,
                        
                          But all only syr terry,
                        
                          That laye in the church speciallye,
                        
                          Preying to god that he wold here
                          Line 9680 
                        
                          And helpe hym in hys gret mystere.
                        
                          In there com a preste goande,
                        
                          That found terry ther liggand.
                        
                          'Pylgrym,' quod the prest than,
                        
                          'Thow arte an ouer-holy man.
                          Line 9685 
                        
                          Whi wylt not thow to the mounteyn go
                        
                          To se the bateyle be-twene knytis two?
                        
                          A pylgrym ys that on full ryght,
                        
                          That for the Erle terry doth fyght.'
                        
                          'What ys that pylgrym?' quod terry.
                          Line 9690 
                        
                          'Ine wot,' he seyd, 'securlye,
                        
                          But he ys dowȝty in the fyld,
                        
                          And brokyn he hath the Dukis shyld.'
                        
                          Vp a-rose Terry tho anone,
                        
                          And to the bateyle ys he goon.
                          Line 9695 
                        
                          He was adrad men shuld hym knowe:
                        
                          He lokyd amonge the men full lowe.
                        
                          There he saw the Duke berrarde,
                        
                          Hys armoure rent, and bled full harde.
                        
                          He had Ioy with-owt care
                          Line 9700 
                        
                          That he saw Berrart so fare.
                        
                          Euer the pylgryme assayled hym faste. [Caius MS. 107 page 225]

Page 543

                        
                          'Lord,' quod terry at the laste,
                        
                          'That ys not the same palmere
                        
                          That was yesterday my fere.
                          Line 9705 
                        
                          Thys ys a bold man and a wyght:
                        
                          Hyt semyth hym to be a gentyll knyȝt.
                        
                          He was lene and febull of myght,
                        
                          An hongry man and euyll I-dyght;
                        
                          This man ys wyght and no-thyng wan:
                          Line 9710 
                        
                          I wene hit ys none erthly man.
                        
                          When I hym se I thynke on Gye:
                        
                          He ys full lyke hym, securlye.
                        
                          Yf Gye were not ded, I wold seye
                        
                          That this were he, be thys daye.'
                          Line 9715 
                        
                          Tho for Gye he wept full sore.
                        
                          He yod to church, and held hym thore.
                        
                          Euer he prayed to god that daye
                        
                          To helpe as he well maye.
                        
                          That bateyle last full longe,
                          Line 9720 
                        
                          Fro the morrow erly vnto the euynsonge:
                        
                          Yet ne wold they leve the fyght
                        
                          Tyll hyt were the derknyght.
                        
                          They ne wiste what they myȝt seye;
                        
                          For they lakkyd the lyght of the daye.
                          Line 9725 
                        
                          Messyngerys ther were sente,
                        
                          To the Emperoure sone they wente.
                        
                          They told hym that yt was nyȝte,
                        
                          They myȝt no lenge se to fyght.
                        
                          Anon he dyd klepe with honoure
                          Line 9730 
                        
                          Fowre barouns of gret valoure.
                        
                          'Lordys,' quod the Emperoure, [Caius MS. 107 page 226] 
                        
                          'Here hath bene an herd stoure.
                        
                          Take ye berrard to yow nowe,
                        
                          And kepyth hym well, I commaund yow,
                          Line 9735 
                        
                          As I in yow trewly affye:

Page 545

                        
                          Yeld hym to me to-morrow erly;
                        
                          And I shall kepe the pylgryme well
                        
                          Tyll to-morrow, so have I hele:
                        
                          Then shall they to-gedyr goo,
                          Line 9740 
                        
                          Then shall we wete which of hem two
                        
                          Shall have the victorye
                        
                          Thorow the grace of god in hye.'
                        
                          'Sir,' they seyd, 'all redye.'
                        
                          They were departyd sone in hye.
                          Line 9745 
                        
                          They toke berrard, that noble knyȝt,
                        
                          And kept him well all that nyȝt,
                        
                          But berrard, that false glotoun,
                        
                          Thought all-wey to do treasoun:
                        
                          Foure bold cosyns he had,
                          Line 9750 
                        
                          And full prevyly he hem bad
                        
                          That they shuld to courte goo,
                        
                          And prevyly the pylgrym sloo.
                        
                          They armyd hem in haste anone,
                        
                          And com to courte euery-chone.
                          Line 9755 
                        
                          They entryd full prevyly
                        
                          Into a chambre to sir Gye.
                        
                          He was leyd in softe bed:
                        
                          With clothes of gold hyt was be-spred.
                        
                          Hys kepers were all slepand,
                          Line 9760 
                        
                          Was not one of hem wakand.
                        
                          Vp they toke the bed ryght there, [Caius MS. 107 page 227] 
                        
                          And to the full see they hyt bere;
                        
                          And all-wey slept well faste sir Gye:
                        
                          But god hym helpe for hys mercye,
                          Line 9765 
                        
                          Well sone drowned shuld he be!
                        
                          They cast all forth in-to the see.
                        
                          There was he passed with the se wawe
                        
                          Down a whyle and vp a thrawe.

Page 547

                        
                          Sir Gye awakyd at the laste,
                          Line 9770 
                        
                          And hys hede up he caste:
                        
                          He sawe the sterrys bryght shynand,
                        
                          But in no syd saw he the lande,
                        
                          But brod watre all abowte:
                        
                          Hyt was no wondre though he had doute.
                          Line 9775 
                        
                          'God,' he seyd, 'all weldande,
                        
                          That stablyssheth both watre and londe,
                        
                          Lord, now thow thynke on mee;
                        
                          For I am be-trayed now, I see.
                        
                          Lord, who hath do me thys ded?
                          Line 9780 
                        
                          And I fyght for no mede,
                        
                          Ne for syluer ne for golde,
                        
                          But for my brother, my trowth to hold,
                        
                          And for to delyuer hym owte of peryle,
                        
                          That longe hath bene in excile
                          Line 9785 
                        
                          Also power as he may bee.
                        
                          When I hym saw I had pyte:
                        
                          Some-tyme he was a noble knyȝt.
                        
                          I wold dye for sir terry is ryght.
                        
                          For he ys now so wrechyd a wyght,
                          Line 9790 
                        
                          A-geyne Berrarde I toke the fyght.
                        
                          Yf I had the traytour slayne, [Caius MS. 107 page 228] 
                        
                          Terry shuld have hys land ageyne.
                        
                          Lord, yf hyt myȝt so be
                        
                          That he had helpe thorouȝ me,
                          Line 9795 
                        
                          And I wonne all hys land,
                        
                          And all the honoure to hys hand,
                        
                          Thowȝ I levyd but till that daye,
                        
                          Hit were my Ioy, for-soth I seye.
                        
                          But I am ded, well I wote:
                          Line 9800 
                        
                          For me shall he neuer have state
                        
                          Thorought treason of the Duke barrard.
                        
                          Have he neuer of hevyn parte!
                        
                          He ys a thefe full of treason;
                        
                          God geve hym hys malyson!'

                          Line 9805

Page 549

                        
                          Tho ther com a good fysshere
                        
                          Fyshyng be sir Gye nere.
                        
                          The bed he saw far by fletand:
                        
                          He turned hys bot, and went nere-hand.
                        
                          Wondir he had what hyt were
                          Line 9810 
                        
                          That in the see com fletyng there.
                        
                          He coniured hyt in all manere,
                        
                          When that he was comyn hyt nere:
                        
                          What he was he shuld saye,
                        
                          And yf he levyd on goddys laye.
                          Line 9815 
                        
                          Vp he lyfte hys heed sir Gye,
                        
                          And to the fyssher he spake in hye:
                        
                          'My frend,' quod Gye, 'have thow no dred;
                        
                          I leve in god, so god me spede.'
                        
                          Quod the fysher, 'art thow of this cite?'
                          Line 9820 
                        
                          'Yea, so god me sped,' seyd he.
                        
                          'Thynkest thow not on that fyght [Caius MS. 107 page 229] 
                        
                          Be-twene the pylgryme and the knyȝt
                        
                          That the Emperoure dyd make
                        
                          Yesterday for terry ys sake?'
                          Line 9825 
                        
                          'For-soth,' quod he, 'I saw full ryȝt
                        
                          The bateyle tyll the derke nyȝt.
                        
                          The emperoure dyd departe hem late:
                        
                          He kept the pylgryme at the gate.'
                        
                          'And I am,' seyd Gye, 'that ylke pilgryme
                          Line 9830 
                        
                          That faught ageynst Duke berrardyne.
                        
                          We were departyd yesternyȝt,
                        
                          For we myȝt se no lenger for to fyȝt.
                        
                          In-to a chambre I was brought:
                        
                          Of treason had I lytill thought.
                          Line 9835 
                        
                          Into this bed was I done:
                        
                          I was wery, and slept full sone.
                        
                          I was be-trayed, I note howe:
                        
                          My dere frend, helpe me nowe.
                        
                          For the trouth god yave the,
                          Line 9840 
                        
                          Att thys tyme have rewth on me.'

Page 551

                        
                          The Fysher was for hym sory,
                        
                          And toke hym into hys bote in hye,
                        
                          And led hym forth home that nyȝt,
                        
                          And kept hym with all hys myȝte.
                          Line 9845 
                        
                          The Emperoure a-rose well erlye,
                        
                          Mateyns and masse he herd in hye.
                        
                          Then he come in-to hys hall,
                        
                          And with hym hys barouns all.
                        
                          He bad hem bryng forth berrardyne,
                          Line 9850 
                        
                          And afterward the pore pylgryme.
                        
                          The foure barouns, soth, gan wend, [Caius MS. 107 page 230] 
                        
                          And brought the Duke so hende.
                        
                          He commaundyd at that tyme
                        
                          To bring forth that pylgryme.
                          Line 9855 
                        
                          To the Emperoure gan they seye
                        
                          That the pylgryme was aweye:
                        
                          Both was awey he and hys bed,
                        
                          And hys wardeyns were all fled.
                        
                          Ther wiste no man where he was done.
                          Line 9860 
                        
                          The Emperoure was wroth full sone:
                        
                          He sware be god and seynt marye
                        
                          All they shuld be hangyd on hye
                        
                          That had aloyned thys pylgryme
                        
                          And hys wardens, be seynt martyne.
                          Line 9865 
                        
                          Tho spake he with full gret Ire
                        
                          To the Duke, the stoute syre:
                        
                          'Thow Duke,' he seyd, 'with-owt stryfe,
                        
                          Bryng hym forth, vppon thi lyfe,
                        
                          That thow hast take oute of my kepyng,
                          Line 9870 
                        
                          Other I shall Iuge the to hangyng.
                        
                          Ded or quyke bryng hym to me:
                        
                          Thow haste hym stolyn, well I se.'
                        
                          The Duke stert vp, with-owte doute,
                        
                          As man that was bold and stowte.
                          Line 9875 
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'now fynd I wele
                        
                          That ye love me neuer a deale.

Page 553

                        
                          Ouer-longe have I servyd yow,
                        
                          And kept youre land to youre prow.
                        
                          Now ye wold Iuggyn me,
                          Line 9880 
                        
                          But ye shall not, so must I the.
                        
                          Who that ys now here so hardye [Caius MS. 107 page 231] 
                        
                          That wyll me greve or more anoye,
                        
                          I shall hym with my sword so smyte,
                        
                          That hys hede shall of as tyte.
                          Line 9885 
                        
                          And ye that have me Iugid soo,
                        
                          I wyll ye wot, or I goo,
                        
                          That I shall wend into lumbardye,
                        
                          And gader power ryght hardye,
                        
                          And thorough thy land com ageyne:
                          Line 9890 
                        
                          All that I fynd shall be slayne.
                        
                          I shall the dystroy euery deale.'
                        
                          He knew hys maner swyth well.
                        
                          I dare sey he was ryght wroth,
                        
                          And well faste he sware hys othe,
                          Line 9895 
                        
                          Yf he wente he shuld be slayne;
                        
                          And he sware 'nay' full faste ageyne.

                        
                          Tho com forth the fysshere:
                        
                          He seyd, 'sir Emperoure, wyll ye here?
                        
                          Heryth me, yf youre wyll be,
                          Line 9900 
                        
                          Sir,' he seyd, 'for charyte.
                        
                          Of that pylgryme I can yow seye:
                        
                          I wote where he ys, by thys daye.'
                        
                          'My frend,' quod the Emperoure,
                        
                          'Sey me, so god yeve the honoure,
                          Line 9905 
                        
                          And thow shalt have, be myn hede,
                        
                          An hundryth besauntis of gold rede.'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'full trewly
                        
                          I shall yow sey now in hye.
                        
                          To-nyȝt well late was I gone
                          Line 9910 
                        
                          Vnto the see to fysch a-lone.
                        
                          I found a-lofte a bed fletyng, [Caius MS. 107 page 232] 
                        
                          And a knyȝt therin lyggyng.

Page 555

                        
                          I askyd hym what he was,
                        
                          And he me told all the case,
                          Line 9915 
                        
                          How he was that pylgryme
                        
                          That fought with sir barrardyne.
                        
                          I leyd hym my bote with-ynne,
                        
                          And lad hym home to myn Inne.
                        
                          I hym kept all thys nyȝt:
                          Line 9920 
                        
                          Sendyth for hym a-non ryght.'
                        
                          'My frend,' quod the Emperoure,
                        
                          'For hym shall thou [haue] much honoure.'
                        
                          For the pylgryme tho he sent:
                        
                          He come to hys commaundment
                          Line 9925 
                        
                          Hastyly, with-owten fayle,
                        
                          And was arayed to that bateyle.
                        
                          Now be-gyn they to-gedyr to fyght:
                        
                          They daltyn strokis anone ryght.
                        
                          With swerdys, that were so good of stele,
                          Line 9930 
                        
                          They smote on helmys ryght well.
                        
                          Hit was wondre to se thoo
                        
                          The fyght that was be-twene hem two.
                        
                          They fought tyll vnderne of the day:
                        
                          All had wonder that hyt saye.
                          Line 9935 
                        
                          The Duke was full of felonye:
                        
                          He smote to Gye with grete envye;
                        
                          He hyt hym on the helme full stoute,
                        
                          And fellyd the floures all abowȝte.
                        
                          He brake the sercle evyn in two,
                          Line 9940 
                        
                          He brake the good hawberke also.
                        
                          He replid hys face and his chyn, [Caius MS. 107 page 233] 
                        
                          And of hys ryght cheke all the skyn.
                        
                          Adowne be hys shuldre the stroke gan glyd,
                        
                          And brake many a mayle be-syde,

                          Line 9945

Page 557

                        
                          Line 9945 
                        
                          But in hys Flessh com hit nought:
                        
                          The grace of god was in hys thought.
                        
                          Out of the shyld he brake a quartere,
                        
                          As he wold draw hys swerd nere.
                        
                          There fell to ground sir Gye skete
                          Line 9950 
                        
                          Both an handys and on fete.
                        
                          Vp he sterte with-owte blame:
                        
                          Of that dede hym thought shame.
                        
                          He sterte forth as spekyll on fyre,
                        
                          And smote the Duke with gret Ire
                          Line 9955 
                        
                          Vppon the helme, that was so clere
                        
                          (He smote a-wey a good quartere);
                        
                          As on that other helme with-all,
                        
                          That to the ground can he fall,
                        
                          And the here with all the face
                          Line 9960 
                        
                          Fell ryght downe vnto the place.
                        
                          With hys swerd he smote tho
                        
                          Hys good hawberke evyn in two.
                        
                          The Ryght Arme and the shuldre also
                        
                          He smote there the body fro.
                          Line 9965 
                        
                          He carfe hys bowellys and hys hyd:
                        
                          In-to the erth the swerd can glyde.
                        
                          Tho was he all at the grownd,
                        
                          He dyed in a lytill stounde.
                        
                          All the men that therby stode
                          Line 9970 
                        
                          Spekyn that stroke much goode,
                        
                          And seyd there was no man levand [Caius MS. 107 page 234] 
                        
                          That myȝt yeve a gretter stroke with hand.
                        
                          Vppon the Erth Gye sett hym downe,
                        
                          And seyd, 'a, thow Duke fellown,
                          Line 9975 
                        
                          Now nere-hand a[r]t thow for-lorne.
                        
                          Alas the tyme that thow were boren!
                        
                          A bolder knyȝt was neuer lyvand,
                        
                          Ne neuer dowȝtyer man of hand.
                        
                          Ne haddist thow be traytour, be seynt Richere,
                          Line 9980 
                        
                          In all the world ne had bene thy pere.'

Page 559

                        
                          By the corse he reste a whyle,
                        
                          Well the mountanaunce of a myle.
                        
                          All that abowte gan stond
                        
                          Seyd he was a knyȝt of fe[i]r[y]-land.
                          Line 9985 
                        
                          Now ys Gye to the Emperoure gon
                        
                          And to hys barouns euery-chone,
                        
                          And askyd yf terry shuld be quyte
                        
                          Of all perell and all dyspyte.
                        
                          All they seyd with on voyse,
                          Line 9990 
                        
                          'Yea, be hym that dyed on crose.
                        
                          All shall be for-yeve hym here
                        
                          Be leve of yow, sir Emperere.'
                        
                          'Sir Emperoure,' quod sir Gye,
                        
                          'Have mercy on the Erle terrye.
                          Line 9995 
                        
                          I have defendyd that felony
                        
                          Ryght here be-fore your eye.
                        
                          Me thynkyth he shuld be quyte with ryght,
                        
                          When that I for hym dyd fyȝte.'
                        
                          The Emperoure answeryd full tyte,
                          Line 10000 
                        
                          'He oweth well for to be quyte.
                        
                          All I forge the Erle terry [Caius MS. 107 page 235] 
                        
                          Myn evyll wyll and myn envye.
                        
                          I shall delyuer hym all hys land
                        
                          With all the honoure into hys hand:
                          Line 10005 
                        
                          Yf I wyste where he were,
                        
                          I wold delyuer hym full yare.'
                        
                          Gye hym answeryd, 'par mafaye,
                        
                          Ye shall hym see, yf that I maye.'
                        
                          'My frend,' he seyd, 'full hastylye
                          Line 10010 
                        
                          I byd the wend, and seke terry.'
                        
                          Of he dyd hys armoure bryght:
                        
                          The Emperoure wold hym fayer dyȝt
                        
                          In Rich Robys two or thre,
                        
                          And make hym on of hys meyne,
                          Line 10015 
                        
                          But therof wold be not thoo,
                        
                          But hys slaveyne and no mo.

Page 561

                        
                          He went the Cite all abowte,
                        
                          And sowght terry with-owt dowȝt.
                        
                          At the laste he hym fande
                          Line 10020 
                        
                          At the church hys bedys byddand.
                        
                          'A-ryse vp,' quod Gye, 'for cherite:
                        
                          The Emperoure hath sent after the.'
                        
                          Vp he held hys hede terry:
                        
                          'Lord god,' he seyd, 'mercy!
                          Line 10025 
                        
                          In whome may any man trowe,
                        
                          Other to tell hys cowncell now?
                        
                          Thow semyst well trew to bee,
                        
                          And now haste thow be-wrayed me.
                        
                          He wyll me slee, or I ete mete:
                          Line 10030 
                        
                          For me shalt thow have yeftis grete.
                        
                          Thow shalt me be-tray, & do me shame: [Caius MS. 107 page 236] 
                        
                          Alas that I the told my name!
                        
                          I wend thow haddyst bene good & trew.
                        
                          So well-a-way that I the knewe!
                          Line 10035 
                        
                          I wyll go and wend with the:
                        
                          I may not fle, full well I se.
                        
                          Yf I dye hyt ys thorow the:
                        
                          God now have mercy on me!'

                        
                          'TErry,' quod Gye, 'make good chere:
                          Line 10040 
                        
                          Thow shalt sone good tydyngis here.
                        
                          The false Duke barrard ys dede
                        
                          (Of hys sowle can I no rede)
                        
                          Thorrought a pylgryme full hardye,
                        
                          That terry defendyd of felonye.'
                          Line 10045 
                        
                          To-fore the emperoure tho he cam,
                        
                          Yet had he gret dred of blame.
                        
                          'Sir Emperoure,' quod sir Gye,
                        
                          'Lo here the Erle terrye.'
                        
                          On knees fell than sir terry:

                          Line 10050

Page 563

                        
                          Line 10050 
                        
                          'Sir Emperoure,' he seyd, 'mercye!
                        
                          Sir,' quod terry, 'here am I:
                        
                          Longe haue I bene full drery.
                        
                          I have bene in sorrow stronge
                        
                          Yere and halfe: me thynketh longe
                          Line 10055 
                        
                          That I had neuer reste on daye,
                        
                          But that I have travellyd aye,
                        
                          To seche sir Gye yf I hym found
                        
                          Well far in meny an vncouth land.
                        
                          In Englond I herd seye,
                          Line 10060 
                        
                          There he was noryshed and borne, in faye,
                        
                          That he was wente in excile; [Caius MS. 107 page 237] 
                        
                          Therfor that lond ys in peryle.
                        
                          Now herd I seye that a pylgryme
                        
                          (Have he goddys benyson and myne!)
                          Line 10065 
                        
                          He hath the Duke berrard shente:
                        
                          I hope god hath hym hether sent.'
                        
                          On knees then fyll sir terrye,
                        
                          And seyd, 'lord, for goddys love, mercy!'
                        
                          Dukis, Erlys gret plente,
                          Line 10070 
                        
                          That were curteys men and free,
                        
                          Down they fell on knees anone,
                        
                          For terry they prayed euery-chone.
                        
                          The Emperoure be-held the Erle terry,
                        
                          For hym he waxed full sorye:
                          Line 10075 
                        
                          The terys ran of hys eyen down.
                        
                          'Terry,' he seyd, 'gentill baroun,
                        
                          Thow hast had full gret traveyle,
                        
                          Hyt semyth well, with-owten fayle.
                        
                          Of the I have gret pyte:
                          Line 10080 
                        
                          Thys day thow shalt seasonyd be

Page 565

                        
                          In all thy land, castell, and toure.
                        
                          Yet shalt thow have more honoure:
                        
                          I make the steward of all my lande,
                        
                          And hyt be-take in-to thy hande.'
                          Line 10085 
                        
                          Then seyd all hys baronye,
                        
                          'Sir Emperoure, graunt mercye!'
                        
                          The Emperoure kyssed sir terry,
                        
                          And for-yave hym all folye.
                        
                          Duke, baroun, and euery man
                          Line 10090 
                        
                          All they kyssed sir terry than.
                        
                          All Ioyed in that Citee [Caius MS. 107 page 238] 
                        
                          That terry, the knyȝt so free,
                        
                          Was accordyd with the emperoure:
                        
                          All they spake of hym honoure.
                          Line 10095 
                        
                          Quod the emperoure to sir terry,
                        
                          'Sey me now, for seynt mary,
                        
                          What ys he that ylke pylgryme?
                        
                          Ys he thi brother or thy cosyn
                        
                          That faught with berrard so hastylye,
                          Line 10100 
                        
                          To defend the of thi felony?
                        
                          I wend that ther had be no knyȝt
                        
                          In the world so bold a wyght,
                        
                          That durst ayenste berrard fyȝt,
                        
                          But it wer foure or fyve well dyȝt.'
                          Line 10105 
                        
                          'Sir,' quod terry, 'as I trow,
                        
                          And by the feyth that I to yow owe,
                        
                          Thys pilgrym saw I neuer are,
                        
                          But in the wey as I can fare,
                        
                          Ne neuer wyste or now ryght
                          Line 10110 
                        
                          That he for me wold fyght;
                        
                          But now I wote, with glad mode
                        
                          I prey to hym that dyed on Roode
                        
                          Yeld hym hys mede with-owte fayle:
                        
                          He hath me delyuerd from gret traveyle.'

                          Line 10115

Page 567

                        
                          Line 10115 
                        
                          The emperoure dyd hendly:
                        
                          To hys chambre he led sir terry;
                        
                          He clothyd hym nobly well
                        
                          In clothes lyned with sendell;
                        
                          He yave hym stedis ij or thre,
                          Line 10120 
                        
                          The beste that were in that contre.
                        
                          He wente to Gornoyse hastelye, [Caius MS. 107 page 239] 
                        
                          And wyth hym he led sir Gye.

                        
                          TO the Cite com sir terry,
                        
                          And ys receyved nobelye.
                          Line 10125 
                        
                          The pylgryme with hym he brought:
                        
                          That hyt was Gye wyste he nought.
                        
                          He sowȝt hys cowntes thorowȝ the londe:
                        
                          At the laste he her fande.
                        
                          She was hyd for gret dowte
                          Line 10130 
                        
                          For the duke that was so stowte.
                        
                          Now ys terry bold and wyght,
                        
                          Of all that lond moste of myȝt.
                        
                          In all-mayne he doth hys wyll,
                        
                          What he lyste, lowd or styll.
                          Line 10135 
                        
                          Terry for-yate in no manere
                        
                          The treasoure than in the Rochere
                        
                          That they found betwene hem two
                        
                          By the way as they gan goo.
                        
                          To gornoyse he dyd hyt bryng:
                          Line 10140 
                        
                          Ther was many a rych thyng.
                        
                          He yave hyt all to sir Gye,
                        
                          But he wold none, securly:

Page 569

                        
                          Of gold and syluer had he no thought,
                        
                          But to serue god, that hym bowght.
                          Line 10145 
                        
                          And he bad yeve some pore man with hys hond,
                        
                          And with that other a-store hys land.
                        
                          Vppon a day sir Gye hym be-thought,
                        
                          Lenger to dwell ther wold he nought.
                        
                          He toke hys leve of sir terrye,
                          Line 10150 
                        
                          And spake to hym well derley:
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'now wyll I fare: [Caius MS. 107 page 240] 
                        
                          With the may I dwell no mare.
                        
                          I pray yow, yf youre wyll be,
                        
                          That ye awhile rown with me:
                          Line 10155 
                        
                          Such thyng now ye here saye,
                        
                          Ye wyll have wonder, by thys daye.
                        
                          But loke that no man come with yow.'
                        
                          'Nay,' quod terry, 'as I trowe.'
                        
                          Terry lepe on a mule amblend:
                          Line 10160 
                        
                          Thorought the Cite they went spekend.
                        
                          Must no man with hym goo,
                        
                          But they alone hem-selfe two.
                        
                          Forth they went to-geders her waye:
                        
                          Wiste no man what Gye wold seye.
                          Line 10165 
                        
                          When they had go but a myle,
                        
                          They sett hem down to reste a while.
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'herken me now:
                        
                          Ye know me not, as I trowe.
                        
                          And yf ye vndyrstond wele,
                          Line 10170 
                        
                          Ye cowd know me some deale.
                        
                          Can ye not that man know
                        
                          That some tyme was your felaw,
                        
                          That slew for yow the Duke otown,
                        
                          And delyuerd yow of hys presoun?
                          Line 10175 
                        
                          And efte I found yow woundyd sare
                        
                          In a foreste as I gan fare,

Page 571

                        
                          And sethen slew thevys fyftene,
                        
                          And brought thy lemman bryȝt and shene,
                        
                          And the from foure knyghtis wanne,
                          Line 10180 
                        
                          And slow hem there euery man,
                        
                          And on my horse led the a stounde, [Caius MS. 107 page 241] 
                        
                          And helyd the of thy sore wounde,
                        
                          And sethen socoured thy fader dere,
                        
                          And halpe hym in many a mystere,
                          Line 10185 
                        
                          And slow thys Duke sethen with my hond,
                        
                          That chasyd the owt of·thy land.
                        
                          More ther ys, thow wottyst well what,
                        
                          Hyt nedyth not sey all that.
                        
                          Thys is Gye that thow syeste here:
                          Line 10190 
                        
                          Thow owtest me to know in som manere.
                        
                          Gye of Warwyke ys my name:
                        
                          To tell the hyt ys no shame.'
                        
                          Terry myȝt not on word speke:
                        
                          Hym thowght hys herte wold to-breke,
                          Line 10195 
                        
                          To ground fell in sorrow then:
                        
                          More sorrow had neuer man.
                        
                          'O sir Gye, my dere fellawe,
                        
                          Why myȝt I the neuer knowe?
                        
                          Alas that I byd thys daye:
                          Line 10200 
                        
                          Myn eyen be blynd, so may I saye.
                        
                          Well myȝt I know a-ryght
                        
                          That yt was Gye, the noble knyȝte,
                        
                          By the streng[t]h, and by the myȝte,
                        
                          And by the strokis so bold in fyȝte.
                          Line 10205 
                        
                          Who shuld have bene so strong of hond,
                        
                          That durste a-ȝenst berrard stonde,
                        
                          But hyt were ye, leve sir Gye?
                        
                          Of my symple knowyng, sir, have mercy.
                        
                          I aske mercy for love of Iesu nowe,
                          Line 10210 
                        
                          That I cowth not know yow.'
                        
                          Downe he fell to hys feet, [Caius MS. 107 page 242] 
                        
                          And be-gan full sore to wepe.
                        
                          Gye[s] legges were bare euery-deale,

Page 573

                        
                          That somtyme were clothed well.
                          Line 10215 
                        
                          Ther he wept, and wrong hys hond:
                        
                          In the world ys noon levand
                        
                          Of so stronge herte that can hyt see,
                        
                          But of hym he myȝt have pyte;
                        
                          And so had Gye so grete mornyng,
                          Line 10220 
                        
                          That they fell both in sownyng.
                        
                          'Terry,' quod Gye, 'my fellow dere,
                        
                          I wyll wend, ye shall dwell here.
                        
                          I the be-tech god all-myȝte:
                        
                          He the kepe both day and nyȝte.
                          Line 10225 
                        
                          I have a chyld be my wyfe:
                        
                          He ys a knyȝt, yf he have lyfe.
                        
                          Yf he ever have to the mystere,
                        
                          Helpe hym with thy powere.'
                        
                          'My dere brother,' quod terry than,
                          Line 10230 
                        
                          'For hys love that mad man,
                        
                          Be-levyth here styll ryght,
                        
                          And my trouth I wyll the plyȝt,
                        
                          All in thys world that ys myn,
                        
                          I wyll the plyȝt hyt shall be thyne.
                          Line 10235 
                        
                          And yf ye wyll not do that thyng,
                        
                          I prey yow, doth myn askyng,
                        
                          That I may the world for-sake,
                        
                          And to youre company me take,
                        
                          That we be partyd in no manere,
                          Line 10240 
                        
                          Whyle we bene in erth here:
                        
                          Me ys lever to wend with yow, [Caius MS. 107 page 243] 
                        
                          And suffer both honger and sorrow
                        
                          Than to be from yow with all the honourre

Page 575

                        
                          That hath kyng other Emperoure.
                          Line 10245 
                        
                          And we both to-gedyr were,
                        
                          Though we hadden sorrow and care,
                        
                          Hyt shuld vs please, leve brother,
                        
                          And eyther of vs love well other.'
                        
                          'My frend,' quod Gye, 'let be thy fare:
                          Line 10250 
                        
                          Therof speke thow no mare.
                        
                          Wend thow home, as I the seye,
                        
                          And trewly serve thy lord to paye.
                        
                          Be not prowd in no manere:
                        
                          Help thy lord in hys mystere.
                          Line 10255 
                        
                          Lyve in pease and not in stryfe:
                        
                          Dysheryt no man, be thy lyfe.
                        
                          Yf thow do, wyt thow well
                        
                          In hevyn shalt thow have no deale.
                        
                          Thynke on the Duke berrard stowt,
                          Line 10260 
                        
                          That was so prowd all a-bowȝt,
                        
                          How he had dysheryte the
                        
                          And many an other: as thow mayst see,
                        
                          Now ys he dysheryte all,
                        
                          And full evyll ys hym be-fall.
                          Line 10265 
                        
                          And I the sey for that berrard
                        
                          Of blysse of hevyn have he no parte.
                        
                          Dwell thow here; for I wyll fare:
                        
                          Iesu the kepe euer from care.
                        
                          To-Gedyr they kyssed hem full swete:
                          Line 10270 
                        
                          At theyre departyng sore gan they wepe.

                        
                          Forth then went sir Gyon, [Caius MS. 107 page 244] 
                        
                          The gentyll knyȝt, the bold baroun.
                        
                          Terry went home anone,
                        
                          In-to hys chambre ys he gone:
                          Line 10275 
                        
                          Two dayes yet he no mete,
                        
                          Ne no man myȝt of hym wordys gete.
                        
                          When the cowntes herd seye

Page 577

                        
                          That Gye was passed so aweye,
                        
                          She blamyd her lord gretlye,
                          Line 10280 
                        
                          That he ne had hold styll sir Gye:
                        
                          'Yf he ne wold dwell for fayrenesse,
                        
                          Ye shuld have hold hym with dystresse.'
                        
                          Now wendyth Gye well drery,
                        
                          Ofte he thought on sir terrye.
                          Line 10285 
                        
                          So longe hath Gye hys weyes gon,
                        
                          He passed landys many one:
                        
                          Commyn he ys to the see,
                        
                          And to Englond wold he.
                        
                          A good shyp there he founde,
                          Line 10290 
                        
                          And sayled in-to Englond.
                        
                          He askyd men that he ther found
                        
                          Where was the kyng of the lond.
                        
                          'At Wynchester,' they seyd, 'now ys he:
                        
                          There he muste nedys be.
                          Line 10295 
                        
                          There hath he made a gret somons
                        
                          Of dukis, Erlys, and of barons,
                        
                          And to all that armys bere,
                        
                          That they be redy there,
                        
                          Bysshoppus, Abbottis of the lond,
                          Line 10300 
                        
                          That they be redy at hys hond,
                        
                          And all hys clergye, [Caius MS. 107 page 245] 
                        
                          That there now be redye.
                        
                          Thre dayes and thre nyght
                        
                          Have they fasted all ryght,
                          Line 10305 
                        
                          That god shuld send a man of myȝt
                        
                          That with the Geaunt durst fyȝt.
                        
                          The kyng aulofe of denmarke
                        
                          Ys comyn with oste styf and starke,
                        
                          With armyd men xv thowsand,
                          Line 10310 
                        
                          To dystroyen all thys lond.
                        
                          Ther ys not lefte in that contre
                        
                          Castell, toure, ne Cyte:
                        
                          To Wynchestre vnto the wall

Page 579

                        
                          Hyt ys brennyd and dystroyed all.
                          Line 10315 
                        
                          The kyng aulof ys so stoute,
                        
                          That all men be-gynne hym to dowȝt,
                        
                          For a Geaunt styf and stronge,
                        
                          Moche grete and swyth longe.
                        
                          Men seyen he was in ynd bore:
                          Line 10320 
                        
                          Blake vysage he hathe to-fore.
                        
                          In bateyle men dredyn him more
                        
                          Than sixty knyȝtis that armyd wore.
                        
                          Colbrond ys hys name:
                        
                          God geve hym care and shame.
                          Line 10325 
                        
                          He hath sent to kyng athelstone,
                        
                          And bad hym flee hys land anone,
                        
                          Other el[l]ys be-commyn hys manne,
                        
                          And bere hym trewage for hys land than,
                        
                          Other ellys fynd an orped knyȝt
                          Line 10330 
                        
                          That dare with the geaunt fyȝt.'
                        
                          'Where ys herrawd,' quod Gye than, [Caius MS. 107 page 246] 
                        
                          'That forsoke neuer no man?'
                        
                          'Hyt ys sethen go two yere or thre
                        
                          Sith he went owt of thys contre,
                          Line 10335 
                        
                          To sech hys lordys son so free,
                        
                          That marchauntis stollyn ouer the see.'
                        
                          'Where ys,' he seyd, 'the Erle rohold,
                        
                          A dowȝty knyȝt and a bold?'
                        
                          'Sir,' he seyd, 'par ma faye,
                          Line 10340 
                        
                          He ys ded full many a daye.'
                        
                          Sir Gye gan pray specially,
                        
                          'God on hys sowle have mercye.
                        
                          What doth hys dowȝter the cowntas?'

Page 581

                        
                          He seyd, 'she doth gret almesse.
                          Line 10345 
                        
                          No man ne woman in that contree
                        
                          That doth more good for charyte
                        
                          To pore frerys and pore abbeyes,
                        
                          And to helpe bryggis and brokyn wayes,
                        
                          And pray to god, as he well maye,
                          Line 10350 
                        
                          Lette her abyd that daye
                        
                          That she may see her lord so dere
                        
                          Quyke or ded in som manere.
                        
                          She blynneth neuer nyȝt ne daye,
                        
                          For her lord she prayeth aye.'
                          Line 10355 
                        
                          To Wynchester now goth sir Gye,
                        
                          Hym knew no man that hym sye.
                        
                          He mete frerys of that contre,
                        
                          And goth with hem to that Cyte.

                        
                          Hyt was in a somers daye,
                          Line 10360 
                        
                          Kyng athelstone at wynchester laye.
                        
                          He clepyd all hys baronage, [Caius MS. 107 page 247] 
                        
                          Erle, baroun, knyȝt, and page:
                        
                          'Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'herken to me,
                        
                          All that trew & feyth-full be.
                          Line 10365 
                        
                          I byd yow yeve me som cownceyle
                        
                          That may all thys lond avayle,
                        
                          How I may best defend my ryght,
                        
                          Ayenst the danys for to fyght.
                        
                          The kyng awlof ys stowt & kene
                          Line 10370 
                        
                          (Ther ys none so stowȝt, I wene)
                        
                          For that thefe colbrond;
                        
                          Hys tryst ys all in the Geande.
                        
                          He wyll vs chase owt of thys land,
                        
                          And slee all that commyn to hys hand.
                          Line 10375 
                        
                          Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'purvey yowe:
                        
                          Hit ys for your aldre prowe.
                        
                          Oure beth the Rych cytees,
                        
                          The brod land, the large sees:
                        
                          All ys oure more and lesse.
                          Line 10380 
                        
                          Tymbyr on your gret Richesse,

Page 583

                        
                          On your chyldern, and your wyves,
                        
                          And most on your owen lyves:
                        
                          Yf yow hyt lose thorow yll fare,
                        
                          Ye bene shent for euer mare.
                          Line 10385 
                        
                          Yet I aske yow ryght
                        
                          Yf ye know eny knyȝte
                        
                          That ys so boold & so wyght
                        
                          That dare ayenst thys Geaunt fyȝt:
                        
                          He shall have my lande
                          Line 10390 
                        
                          Trewly seasonyd into hys hande
                        
                          And to hys eyers for euermore: [Caius MS. 107 page 248] 
                        
                          That shall he wyn therfore.'
                        
                          They stode all styll, and lokyd down,
                        
                          As a man had shavyn ther crown.
                          Line 10395 
                        
                          'God,' he seyd, 'and seynt marie,
                        
                          That I am carefull and sorye,
                        
                          When I may not a knyȝt
                        
                          Find with a nother to fyȝt!
                        
                          O,' he seyd, 'sir Gye the wyght
                          Line 10400 
                        
                          And sir herrawd, þe douȝty knyȝt,
                        
                          Had I bene so ware and so wyse,
                        
                          And holdyn yow in my servyse,
                        
                          And yeven yow the thryd parte of my lond
                        
                          Other halfen deale in your hond,
                          Line 10405 
                        
                          Ye wold have quyt me my mede:
                        
                          Than durst I not this Geaunt drede.
                        
                          He ys not wyse, be myn hood,
                        
                          That levyth hys frend for any good,
                        
                          Hys hownd other hys hawke so dere,
                          Line 10410 
                        
                          Hys horse other hys good squyer:
                        
                          Thouȝ he myȝt not quyte þe fyrst day,
                        
                          Yet do hym not awey;
                        
                          For are the VII yere wynne he may
                        
                          All hys costage in on daye.

                          Line 10415

Page 585

                        
                          Line 10415 
                        
                          Had I yoven Gye so gret plente,
                        
                          That he had dwellyd in thys contre,
                        
                          He wold have quyt me full well
                        
                          All my traveyle euery-deale.
                        
                          Full bold be these danys,
                          Line 10420 
                        
                          And gret cowardys the Englyssh,
                        
                          When I may not fynd a knyȝt [Caius MS. 107 page 249] 
                        
                          That dare with another fyght.'
                        
                          'Syr kyng,' quod the erle of Kent,
                        
                          'I wyll yow saye all myn entent:
                          Line 10425 
                        
                          Do yow somown thorouȝ all your land,
                        
                          That they be redy at your hand:
                        
                          All shull they be well dyȝt,
                        
                          And ayen the danys fyȝt.
                        
                          Thorouȝ goddys grace we shull hem slone:
                          Line 10430 
                        
                          Other cowncell gett ye none.'
                        
                          Kyng athelstone lay that nyȝt
                        
                          In hys bed well I-dyȝt:
                        
                          All that nyȝt he lay wakand,
                        
                          And euer to god fast byddand
                          Line 10435 
                        
                          That he wold hym send a man
                        
                          That durst do the bateyle than.
                        
                          And god of hevyn for-yate hym nouȝt:
                        
                          As he lay in grettest thouȝt,
                        
                          An angell come to hym full ryȝt,
                          Line 10440 
                        
                          And spake to hym from hevyn bryȝt:
                        
                          'Sir kyng,' he seyd, 'slepyst thow?
                        
                          To the me sent my lord Iesu:
                        
                          He bad the aryse vp full erlye,
                        
                          And to the church thow wend in hye.
                          Line 10445 
                        
                          A pylgrym shalt thow fynd thare:
                        
                          Take hym home with the full yare.
                        
                          Byd hym for love and charyte,

Page 587

                        
                          And for god, that dyed on tre,
                        
                          That he for the take the bateyle,
                          Line 10450 
                        
                          And so he wyll, with-owten fayle.'
                        
                          With that the angell went awaye: [Caius MS. 107 page 250] 
                        
                          The kyng gan wake, hyt was nere daye.
                        
                          He was a ryght Ioyfull man,
                        
                          For he had such tydyngis than.
                          Line 10455 
                        
                          Sone to the church gan he goon
                        
                          With hys barons euerychone,
                        
                          And with hym two bysshoppus of the lond:
                        
                          To pryme of the day gan they stond.
                        
                          With that there come pore men
                          Line 10460 
                        
                          To the church ix or ten:
                        
                          Among hem come a pylgryme.
                        
                          The kyng toke hym by the slaveyne,
                        
                          And seyd to hym in fayre manere,
                        
                          'Come home with me, my frend dere.
                          Line 10465 
                        
                          Be not afferd for no thyng:
                        
                          Thou shalt have good gestenyng.'
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'lett me stond styll:
                        
                          Yet to herborow have I no wyll.
                        
                          Here I go my mete byddand:
                          Line 10470 
                        
                          Ryght late I com into thys land.'
                        
                          The kyng seyd, 'com with me:
                        
                          Full well at ease shall thow be.'
                        
                          The kyng and he to chambre went,
                        
                          After hys barons he hath sent.
                          Line 10475 
                        
                          'Pylgrym,' he seyd, 'for charyte
                        
                          And for hys love that dyed on tree,
                        
                          Helpe me now in this mystere
                        
                          With thy strenght and thi powere.
                        
                          A bateyle with danys have we tane:
                          Line 10480 
                        
                          Fyght for vs, or we be slayne.

                        
                          Lysten now, and thow shalt here [Caius MS. 107 page 251] 
                        
                          How it ys and in what manere.
                        
                          Thourugh þe myȝt of on mannus hand
                        
                          Shall I wynne other lose my land:

                          Line 10485

Page 589

                        
                          Line 10485 
                        
                          Ageynst a geaunt shall he fyght,
                        
                          In all thys world ys none so wyȝt.
                        
                          The kyng Awlof, that ys now here,
                        
                          He ys so sykur of hys powere:
                        
                          He weneth ther be none lyvand
                          Line 10490 
                        
                          That may hym stond a stroke of hand.
                        
                          For hys love I the praye
                        
                          That made both nyȝt and daye,
                        
                          Thow take for me thys bateyle:
                        
                          God wyll the quyte with-owt fayle.'
                          Line 10495 
                        
                          'Sir,' quod Gye, 'lett be thy fare:
                        
                          Now to fyght byd me not yare.
                        
                          I am a wrech as ye may see,
                        
                          Also febull as I may bee.'
                        
                          Tho arose the kyng full hastylye,
                          Line 10500 
                        
                          And fell on knees be-fore sir Gye.
                        
                          Dukis, Erlys well curtesly
                        
                          All they cryed Gye mercye,
                        
                          That he wold the bateyle take
                        
                          For Goddus love & for hys sake.
                          Line 10505 
                        
                          Sir Gye be-held the kyng then,
                        
                          And with hym all other men,
                        
                          How they setten on her kne,
                        
                          And asked helpe for charyte.
                        
                          'A-ryse vp,' quod sir Gye.
                          Line 10510 
                        
                          'Now ye all for help crye,
                        
                          I shall for yow do thys bateyle: [Caius MS. 107 page 252] 
                        
                          With help of god wyll I not fayle.'
                        
                          Vp arose the good kyng,
                        
                          And kyssed sir Gye with-owt lettyng.
                          Line 10515 
                        
                          Thorouȝ all the land was Ioy than
                        
                          That the kyng had found a man
                        
                          That with colbrond wold fyȝt:
                        
                          'He shall hym slee with goddys myȝt.'

Page 591

                        
                          They senten to awlof the kyng,
                          Line 10520 
                        
                          And toldyn hym with-out lettyng
                        
                          That they had found a knyȝt
                        
                          That wold ageyn the Geaunt fyȝt
                        
                          Armyd Redy at the daye
                        
                          Which ys set, with-owt naye:
                          Line 10525 
                        
                          'All redy shall [he] be dyght,
                        
                          And defendyn hys lordys ryȝt.'
                        
                          When the day was come sone,
                        
                          And the bateyle shall be done,
                        
                          Gye was armyd, with-owte fayle,
                          Line 10530 
                        
                          With an hawberke of dowble mayle;
                        
                          Vppon hys hed an helme ryght
                        
                          With a crest of gold well dyȝt:
                        
                          Ther-on were many Rich stonys
                        
                          Of gret Vertu for the nonys.
                          Line 10535 
                        
                          A Chaurbocle in the front was,
                        
                          That shone as bryȝt as any glasse.
                        
                          Ther-with myȝt men se anyȝt,
                        
                          As yf hyt had be the day lyȝt.
                        
                          Theron was a coluer of gold,
                          Line 10540 
                        
                          The Ioly creste in hys fote gan hold.
                        
                          Ther-abowȝt ther was a floure [Caius MS. 107 page 253] 
                        
                          Peynted well with rych coloure.
                        
                          Hosyn he had well I-dyȝt
                        
                          Of yren and stele made for to fyȝt.
                          Line 10545 
                        
                          Sporrys he had on hys hele
                        
                          Of red gold euery-deale.
                        
                          Hys shyld he caste abowȝt hys swere,
                        
                          A good swerd he toke there.
                        
                          They brought a sted to hys hand,
                          Line 10550 
                        
                          The swyftest of all Englond.
                        
                          Vp he lepyd as a noble knyȝt,

Page 593

                        
                          And blyssed hym with hys hand ryȝt.
                        
                          In hys hond he toke a spere,
                        
                          And into the place he hyt bere.
                          Line 10555 
                        
                          When he was come into the place,
                        
                          To be-sech god of hys grace,
                        
                          Of hys sted he lepe a-downe,
                        
                          And lay long in a flyxowne.
                        
                          'Lord,' he seyd, 'for thy passyoun,
                          Line 10560 
                        
                          That savyd danyell fro the lyon,
                        
                          Save me from thys fowle fellown,
                        
                          And bryng me to savacioun,
                        
                          And lend me grace thys ilke daye
                        
                          (For well I wot that thow maye)
                          Line 10565 
                        
                          To slee thys thefe with myn hond,
                        
                          And fro trowage save thys lond.'
                        
                          He blyssed hym with hys hand ryȝt,
                        
                          And on hys sted he lepyd full ryȝt:
                        
                          Styrrop ther towchyd he none;
                          Line 10570 
                        
                          Therof spake many one.
                        
                          All they seyd that ther were [Caius MS. 107 page 254] 
                        
                          A fayrer man saw they neuer.
                        
                          The booke was brouȝt hem be-forne:
                        
                          Kyng Awlof hath fyrst sworne,
                          Line 10575 
                        
                          Yf hyt be so that hys man fayle,
                        
                          And be convycte in that bateyle,
                        
                          In-to denmarke wyll he fare,
                        
                          And neuer do Englond harme mare,
                        
                          Ne hys Eyers fro that nyȝt
                          Line 10580 
                        
                          Neuer chalenge of Englond ryȝt.
                        
                          Sethen sware kyng Athelstone,

Page 595

                        
                          Yf hyt be so hys man be slone
                        
                          Be-fore hys barons euerychone,
                        
                          Ther in bateyle be for-done,
                          Line 10585 
                        
                          He shall do Aulof ther homage,
                        
                          And yeld hym for hys land trewage.
                        
                          And, when they were sworne & accordyd in one,
                        
                          And ostagis for them both take anone,
                        
                          Then com forth that colbrond:
                          Line 10590 
                        
                          Gret and strong was that Geaund.
                        
                          A Carte onneth myȝt hym bere
                        
                          The Armoure he brought with hym to were.
                        
                          He wold no horse to hym a-dyȝt,
                        
                          But on fote wold he fyght.
                          Line 10595 
                        
                          That ylke Geaunt was full starke:
                        
                          Vppon hym he had a good hawberke.
                        
                          Mayled hawberke hyt was nought,
                        
                          Of stele gaddys was hyt wrought,
                        
                          That hylled all hys gret bodye,
                          Line 10600 
                        
                          Armes, and all, sekurly.
                        
                          Hys hosyn were of the same entayle [Caius MS. 107 page 255] 
                        
                          Well I-wrought, with-owt fayle.
                        
                          Hys helme was styf and stronge than:

Page 597

                        
                          He drad no stroke of englyssh man.
                          Line 0605 
                        
                          He had a swerd of good stele:
                        
                          A man myȝt not hyt bere wele.
                        
                          He had a shyld full brod tho
                        
                          (Was neuer non better, so must I go),
                        
                          With Iren and stele all ouer-led:
                          Line 10610 
                        
                          Hyt was the devyllys as men seyd.
                        
                          Many a man was of hym a-drad:
                        
                          All was blake that he on had.
                        
                          A spere full long he had in hond,
                        
                          Many a wepun he mad be hym stond:
                          Line 10615 
                        
                          Sherpe sperys stod hym abowȝt,
                        
                          And long gleyves a full gret rowȝt,
                        
                          Gauelongis to cast with hys hond,
                        
                          And sharp geserns, I vndyrstond,
                        
                          Gret axys also with-all
                          Line 10620 
                        
                          To hewyn with yren or stelle small.
                        
                          Hym-selfe was dyȝt full securly:
                        
                          Men wondryd on hym tha[t] stodyn by.

                        
                          NOw be they set to-gedyr thore:
                        
                          Sir Gy hym dred swyfe sore.
                          Line 10625 
                        
                          He was neuer so adred of man
                        
                          As he was of hym than.
                        
                          Sir Gye smote hys sted full ryȝt,
                        
                          To colbrond he can hym dyȝt.
                        
                          Ere he myȝt com hym nere
                          Line 10630 
                        
                          He met with hym in thys manere:
                        
                          Thre dartis he shote full tyte; [Caius MS. 107 page 256] 
                        
                          The two passyd, the thyrd gan byte.
                        
                          Thorrow the shuldre the darte yode,
                        
                          And thorough the hawberke, that was good:
                          Line 10635 
                        
                          Betwene hys arme and hys syd
                        
                          The stroke gan awey glyde.

Page 599

                        
                          Gye smote then with herte good
                        
                          To colbrond ther he stode
                        
                          A myȝty stroke in the sheld,
                          Line 10640 
                        
                          That a pece flye in-to the feld.
                        
                          Colbrond lyfte vp hys brond in haste,
                        
                          And ment to sir Gye a stroke in waste.
                        
                          Sir Gye wold have stert be-syd,
                        
                          But he hym yave a stroke that tyd.
                          Line 10645 
                        
                          Vpon hys helme he wend well
                        
                          To have smytten him with hys swerd of stele,
                        
                          But be-twene sir Gye and hys arsown
                        
                          Fell the stroke of that fellown.
                        
                          He smote hys sted evyn in two:
                          Line 10650 
                        
                          Hys swerd in-to the erth gan go.
                        
                          Gy fell down to the grounde,
                        
                          But up he stert in a stounde.
                        
                          Hys good swerd tho he drew owt,
                        
                          And smote to hym a stroke full stowȝt
                          Line 10655 
                        
                          Also hard as he myȝt drye,
                        
                          But he myght hym not rech for hye.
                        
                          Gye myȝt vp-ryght by hym stond,
                        
                          And hys swerd in hys hond,
                        
                          To hys shuldre myȝt he wynne,
                          Line 10660 
                        
                          But no hyȝer for no gynne.
                        
                          On the shuldre fell that dynte, [Caius MS. 107 page 257] 
                        
                          For the hawberke wold hyt not stynte.
                        
                          A grete pece he smote of tho,
                        
                          And the Flessh he carfe also.
                          Line 10665 
                        
                          The blod ran down to hys syd:
                        
                          He had a grete wound and a wyde.
                        
                          Colbrond lykyd that stroke full yll,
                        
                          And smote to Gye with good wyll:
                        
                          On Gyes helme he smote so faste,
                          Line 10670 
                        
                          The sercle of gold all to-braste;
                        
                          A-down he fellyd the flowres all.
                        
                          On the sheld the dynt gan fall:

Page 601

                        
                          The good shyld he carfe in two;
                        
                          Tho was Gye carefull and woo.
                          Line 10675 
                        
                          He saw halfe be-fore hym lye,
                        
                          Be-hynd hym the tother partye.
                        
                          Tho he hurte hym ryght sore,
                        
                          Vp he caste hys swerd thore.
                        
                          He smote the geaunte on the shyld:
                          Line 10680 
                        
                          Meny a man the stroke be-held.
                        
                          The bond of iren all to-roofe,
                        
                          Other halfe fote the sheld cloofe.
                        
                          With gret myȝt and mayne
                        
                          As he drew hys swerd ageyne,
                          Line 10685 
                        
                          Hys good swerd brake in two:
                        
                          Tho was sir Gye full woo.
                        
                          Now ys comyn hym feble grace:
                        
                          Hys sheld ys brokyn in the place,
                        
                          And, worste of all, hys swerd good.
                          Line 10690 
                        
                          'God,' he seyd, 'that dyed on Rood,
                        
                          Why am I thus evyll dyght? [Caius MS. 107 page 258] 
                        
                          And I for Englond fyght,
                        
                          For to save hyt fro trowage:
                        
                          Why ys me fallyn that owtrage?'
                          Line 10695 
                        
                          Now be these danys stowȝt and prowd,
                        
                          And seyen ecchone, with-owte dowȝte,
                        
                          Englond lorne shall be.
                        
                          Kyng athelston aferd was he.
                        
                          'Syr knyȝt,' quod than colbrond,
                          Line 10700 
                        
                          'Thy swerd ys broken in thy haud:
                        
                          Thow haste no wepyn, that I may see,
                        
                          Where-with thow myȝt defend the.
                        
                          Yeld the now to me in hyȝe:
                        
                          Of the wyll I have mercy.

                          Line 10705

Page 603

                        
                          Line 10705 
                        
                          For that thow were so bold & wyght,
                        
                          Ayen me that thow durst fyght,
                        
                          To kyng athelston wyll I goon,
                        
                          And make the and hym at-oon:
                        
                          Castell and toure shalt thow none fayle,
                          Line 10710 
                        
                          And thow do after my counceyle.'
                        
                          'Nay,' quod Gye, 'so must I thee,
                        
                          Shall I neuer traytoure bee.
                        
                          Though my swerd be now a-wey,
                        
                          My lord of heven, that well maye,
                          Line 10715 
                        
                          May make the lose thy good brond,
                        
                          That ys so sykur in thy hand.
                        
                          Thow haste wepun gret plente:
                        
                          Ther-of I byd the thou lend som to me,
                        
                          Then shall we se sone in hye
                          Line 10720 
                        
                          Who shall have the mastrye.'
                        
                          'Fellow,' quod than Colbrond, [Caius MS. 107 page 259] 
                        
                          'So me helpe tormagaunte,
                        
                          Wepon for me shalt thow none have,
                        
                          But now shall I sle the with my staffe.
                          Line 10725 
                        
                          I wene hyt were me full Ill
                        
                          To lend the wepon at thy wyll.
                        
                          Or thow shall do me ony scath
                        
                          Here shalt thow lose thy hed rath.'
                        
                          When Gye herd hym so speke,
                          Line 10730 
                        
                          For tene hys herte wold to-breke.
                        
                          'No forse,' quod Gye, 'wylt thou so done:
                        
                          I wyll have wepon well sone.
                        
                          Lo where commyth on be-hynd the
                        
                          That bryngyth me wepon plente!'
                          Line 10735 
                        
                          Colbrond lokyd be-hynd hym tho:
                        
                          He thought well what he wold do;
                        
                          He sterte forth, or he wold stynte,
                        
                          And a good axe in hys hand he hend.
                        
                          Then seyd Gye with gret Ire
                          Line 10740 
                        
                          To colbrond, the gret sire,

Page 605

                        
                          'Now,' seyd Gye, 'have thow mawgry:
                        
                          Now have I of thy wepon plenty.'
                        
                          When colbrond saw that dede,
                        
                          He stert forth as man in nede.
                          Line 10745 
                        
                          With all hys strenght he smote to Gye,
                        
                          But he sterte bake in hye.
                        
                          As Iesu cryste ys wyll was
                        
                          (Hyt was a full wondre cas),
                        
                          The swerd in-to the ground gan dryve
                          Line 10750 
                        
                          Thre fote also blyve,
                        
                          And, as he after the swerd gan stoupe, [Caius MS. 107 page 260] 
                        
                          Gye hym smote with-owte dowȝte:
                        
                          With both handys the axe he hente,
                        
                          And yave the Geaunte a gret dynte.
                          Line 10755 
                        
                          Hys ryght arme he smote aweye:
                        
                          Hys swerd vpon the ground laye.
                        
                          Tho was the Geaunte full sory,
                        
                          And to hys swerd he sterte in hye:
                        
                          With hys lyfte hand he wold assay,
                          Line 10760 
                        
                          For the ryght hand was awey.
                        
                          Ryght as he be-gan to stoup than,
                        
                          Gye wente nere as a hardy man:
                        
                          Hys good axe he reryd on hye
                        
                          With both handys full myȝtyly:
                          Line 10765 
                        
                          He smote hym in the neke so well,
                        
                          That the hed flye of euery-deale.
                        
                          The geaunte ded on the erth laye,
                        
                          The danys mad gret sorrow that day:
                        
                          The king aulof was well sorye,
                          Line 10770 
                        
                          And all hys men that stod hym bye.
                        
                          To theyre shyppys be they wente
                        
                          All for-shamyd and for-shente.
                        
                          Ioyfull was the kyng athelstone
                        
                          And hys barons euerychone:
                          Line 10775 
                        
                          They toke sir Gye hem amonge,
                        
                          And led him forth with mery song

Page 607

                        
                          To wynchestre, the good cyte.
                        
                          All the clergy of that contree
                        
                          Comyn with gret precession,
                          Line 10780 
                        
                          And ladden sir Gye into the town.
                        
                          And as they gan hym homward bryng, [Caius MS. 107 page 261] 
                        
                          'Te deum laudamus' gan they syng.
                        
                          Gye on-armyd hym there,
                        
                          And askyd hys slavyn and no more.
                          Line 10785 
                        
                          The kyng clepyd hym in prevyte,
                        
                          And prayed hym for charyte
                        
                          That he shuld hym the soth seye,
                        
                          What was hys name, with-owte naye.
                        
                          He wold hym yeve londys wyd,
                          Line 10790 
                        
                          Castellys, and towers on euery syd.
                        
                          With hym he shuld dwell thare:
                        
                          Nobly well shuld he fare.
                        
                          Of all the men in that contree
                        
                          Most honowred shuld he be.
                          Line 10795 
                        
                          'Therof,' seyd Gye, 'speke ye nowȝt:
                        
                          Hyt ys nothyng in my thouȝt.
                        
                          I wyll not therof, securlye,
                        
                          The mowntans of an halpenye.
                        
                          I have done thys bateyle:
                          Line 10800 
                        
                          Thankyd be god of hys cownceyle.
                        
                          He lent me both streng[t]h & myȝt
                        
                          Ayenst the Geaunt for to fyȝt.
                        
                          Of all that I have now don for the
                        
                          Thanke hyt god and nothyng me.'
                          Line 10805 
                        
                          'Mercy, pylgryme,' quod the kyng,
                        
                          'For hys love that mad all thyng,
                        
                          And shed hys blod on the rode
                        
                          For mannus sowle and mannus good,
                        
                          Tell me now, with-owt blame,
                          Line 10810 
                        
                          Where were thou bore, & what ys thy name?'

Page 609

                        
                          The pylgrym seyd, 'ye shall here: [Caius MS. 107 page 262] 
                        
                          Sith ye wyll wyt in all manere,
                        
                          Than commyth, yf your wyll be,
                        
                          Alone owt of the Cyte with me.
                          Line 10815 
                        
                          Then shall ye the soth here,
                        
                          What I am, with good chere,
                        
                          So that ye be-wray not me
                        
                          Now here in thys contre.'
                        
                          Owt of the town gan they goo
                          Line 10820 
                        
                          Alone, and no mo but they two.
                        
                          When they were passyd halfe a myle
                        
                          Gye seyd, 'sir, abyd a whyle.
                        
                          Syr,' he seyd, 'now shall you here
                        
                          What ys my name with good chere.
                          Line 10825 
                        
                          Sir,' he seyd, 'I am Gye ryght
                        
                          Of Warewyke, your owen knyȝt.
                        
                          Some-tyme ye lovyd me full dere:
                        
                          Now am I such as ye se here.'
                        
                          When the kyng wyst vtterly
                          Line 10830 
                        
                          That hyt was the noble Gye,
                        
                          On hys knees he sett hym downe
                        
                          Ryght ther be-fore sir Gyoun.
                        
                          'Pylgrym,' seyd the kyng, 'mercy!
                        
                          Art thow the noble knyȝt sir Gye?
                          Line 10835 
                        
                          Full longe hyt ys syth I herd seye
                        
                          That thow were ded & all aweye.
                        
                          Thankyd be god hevyn kyng
                        
                          That I have herd of the tydyng.
                        
                          Thys day halfen-deale Englond
                          Line 10840 
                        
                          I wyll sease into thyn hand
                        
                          Euer-more quyte and free.

Page 613

Page 615

                        
                          'What art thow that seyest such thyng? [Caius MS. 107 page 263] 
                        
                          Art thow god, of hevyn kyng?'
                        
                          'An angell of hevyn,' he seyd, 'I am:
                          Line 10845 
                        
                          Mighell,' he seyd, 'ys my name.
                        
                          God hath me to the now sent:
                        
                          Thow haste hym seruyd with good entent.
                        
                          I shall come with angellys bryght,
                        
                          And bryng thy sowle to hevyn lyȝt.'
                          Line 10850 
                        
                          When he had seyd forth he went:
                        
                          Gye thankyd god of hys present.
                        
                          He was glad of hys maundement
                        
                          That god of hevyn hym had sent.
                        
                          When the tyme was com nyȝe
                          Line 10855 
                        
                          That he wyste that he shuld dye,
                        
                          To hym he clepyd hys page hend.
                        
                          'Fellow,' he seyd, 'thow must wende
                        
                          To warwyke with-owten more.
                        
                          The countes thow shalt fynd thore:
                          Line 10860 
                        
                          To her bere thys ylke rynge,
                        
                          And she wyll the geve rych thyng;
                        
                          And sey to her that ylke palmere
                        
                          That ete to-forne her farne yere,
                        
                          To whome she all her mete sent,
                          Line 10865 
                        
                          Both clarey and pyment,
                        
                          Sendyth here thys ilke ryng
                        
                          (And gretyth well her) to tokenyng.
                        
                          When she may the ryng sene
                        
                          She wyll hyt know, as I wene:
                          Line 10870 
                        
                          She wyll the askyn hastylye,
                        
                          And yeve the yeftis rychelye,
                        
                          For that thow shalt her tell there [Caius MS. 107 page 264] 
                        
                          Where that dwellyth the palmere,

Page 617

                        
                          And thow shalt sey, in thys forrest
                          Line 10875 
                        
                          Amonge many a wyld beste.
                        
                          Sey her thow hast seruyd me,
                        
                          And long tyme with me be.
                        
                          Tell her more of my manere:
                        
                          She wyll the make the better chere.
                          Line 10880 
                        
                          When she hath herd thy Tydand,
                        
                          She wyll come hedyr, I vndyrstond.
                        
                          Here she shall me fynd dede:
                        
                          Byd her bery me in thys sted,
                        
                          And sey her she shall dye in hye
                          Line 10885 
                        
                          After me full hastylye.'

                        
                          The knave answeryd full redyly,
                        
                          'Youre Errand shall be don in hye.'
                        
                          The page was full sone I-dyȝt,
                        
                          To warewyke he come anone full ryȝt.
                          Line 10890 
                        
                          The cowntesse he found full redy thare:
                        
                          He sett hym on hys knees full bare.
                        
                          'Madam,' he seyd, 'heryth my tydyng,
                        
                          And the wordys that I bryng.
                        
                          The pylgryme sent yow word now
                          Line 10895 
                        
                          That farne yere ete to-forne yow.
                        
                          I not whether ye knew hym nowe:
                        
                          He ys a good man as I trowe.
                        
                          Now wonnyth he ther in that forrest,
                        
                          And levyth as a wyld beste.
                          Line 10900 
                        
                          He ys full of the holy gost:
                        
                          Hevyn kyng he lovyth moste.
                        
                          Be me he sendyth yow thys ryng [Caius MS. 107 page 265] 
                        
                          (And gretyth yow well) to tokenyng.'
                        
                          She toke the ryng, with-owt dowȝt,
                          Line 10905 
                        
                          And lokyd hyt all a-bowȝt.
                        
                          'Iesu,' she seyd, 'of hevyn, mercye!
                        
                          This ys myn owen lord sir Gye.'
                        
                          Also swyth she fell to the ground,
                        
                          And thries she sowned in a stownd.

                          Line 10910

Page 619

                        
                          Line 10910 
                        
                          When she myȝt speke, hastyly
                        
                          To the messyngere she gan crye:
                        
                          'My dere frend, tell as tyte,
                        
                          Where wonnyth that holy hermyȝt?'
                        
                          'Madam,' he seyd, 'I wyll yow saye,
                          Line 10915 
                        
                          In the forrest a ryght fer weye:
                        
                          He wonneth there in an hermytage.
                        
                          He bad me sey yow thys message,
                        
                          Ye shuldyn bery hys bodye
                        
                          Ryght ther in that hermytory
                          Line 10920 
                        
                          Ther hys body lyeth now dede:
                        
                          For-soth, I can no nother rede.
                        
                          Also he seyd ye shuld now [in] hye
                        
                          Dye after hym full hastylye.'
                        
                          When the lady herd so sey,
                          Line 10925 
                        
                          She was full glad that ylke day
                        
                          That she myȝt her lord see:
                        
                          A Ioyfull woman myght she be;
                        
                          But yet full sorrowfull was her rede
                        
                          Lest she shuld fynd hym ded.
                          Line 10930

                        
                          She bad men shuld her mule bryng,
                        
                          And forth she went with-owt lettyng.
                        
                          She went to that hermytage: [Caius MS. 107 page 266] 
                        
                          Euer be-for her ran the page.
                        
                          When she was at the dore alyȝt,
                          Line 10935 
                        
                          In swone she fell anone ryȝt.
                        
                          She arose & went in Ryȝt drerly:
                        
                          Her lordys body she lay ther bye.

Page 621

                        
                          Rewly she cryed ther for the nonys,
                        
                          And he lokyd on her onys:
                          Line 10940 
                        
                          He kyssed her fayre & curtesly;
                        
                          With that he dyed hastylye.
                        
                          Ther dyed the noble knyȝt sir Gye:
                        
                          Seynt Mighell was ther full redye
                        
                          With mery song of angellys bryȝt,
                          Line 10945 
                        
                          And bare hys soule to hevyn lyȝt,
                        
                          And presentyd hit to the hevyn kyng;
                        
                          Ther shall he be with-owte endyng.
                        
                          Now ys ther that lady trewe
                        
                          In that chappell: her sorrow ys new.
                          Line 10950 
                        
                          She sowned on her lordys bere,
                        
                          And kyst hys mouth with wepyng chere.
                        
                          Hys fete, hys hondys she kyssed than,
                        
                          So dyd many an other man.
                        
                          All that with her commyn were
                          Line 10955 
                        
                          Mad mornyng and sorry chere.
                        
                          All they yode that corse to kysse:
                        
                          The sowle ys in hevyn blysse.
                        
                          God dyd hym there gret honoure:
                        
                          Fro hym ther cam a swete sauoure.
                          Line 10960 
                        
                          Though ther were all the spice
                        
                          That groweth in erth or in paradice . . . . .
                        
                          Then com fro that body free. [Caius MS. 107 page 267] 
                        
                          Euery man that seke were
                        
                          Of hys body sech helpe there.
                          Line 10965 
                        
                          That swete sauoure fayled nouȝt,
                        
                          Tyll hyt was in the erth brought.
                        
                          And then she sent her sond
                        
                          To all the bysshoppus of the lond,
                        
                          Abbottis, priores, and other clergye
                          Line 10970 
                        
                          For to com theder full hastyly.
                        
                          They worshypped all that body,
                        
                          And beryed hit full rychely.
                        
                          Thedyr come the kyng Athelstone

Page 623

                        
                          And all hys barons euery-chone.
                          Line 10975 
                        
                          'Lordyngis,' he seyd, 'thys ys sir Gye,
                        
                          Of warwyke the Erle worthy.
                        
                          He faught for me worthylye
                        
                          At wynchester, ye all hyt sye,
                        
                          And slow for Englondis ryȝt
                          Line 10980 
                        
                          Of all the world the strengest knyȝt.
                        
                          Also he slow here in Englond
                        
                          A dragon, for-soth, as I vndyrstond,
                        
                          Full fer in the north contree:
                        
                          All ye hyt know that here be;
                          Line 10985 
                        
                          So that twyse this blessyd knyȝt
                        
                          Hath savyd Englond with hys myȝt.
                        
                          In all thys world ne was hys pere.
                        
                          This gentyll knyȝt that lyeth here,
                        
                          Yf he had coveyted honoure,
                          Line 10990 
                        
                          He myȝt have bene an Emperoure.
                        
                          The Emperoure hym bad hys douȝter dere
                        
                          With all hys landys ferre and nere [Caius MS. 107 page 268] 
                        
                          For hys douȝtynes of honde
                        
                          That he provyd in hys londe.
                          Line 10995 
                        
                          Of all the world the grettest lord
                        
                          With the Emperoure was a dyscorde,
                        
                          Of babylon the hyȝe sowdan:
                        
                          Thrytty kyngis hym omage done.
                        
                          Sir Gye hym slow at hys bord:
                          Line 11000 
                        
                          All they ne durst speke on word.
                        
                          He brought hys hed to the Emperoure.
                        
                          Of Cristendom he was the floure.
                        
                          He slow ameraunt, the bold paynym:
                        
                          All the world was a-drad of hym.
                          Line 11005 
                        
                          He slow the Duke Otown of pavy
                        
                          For hys treason and hys trechery,
                        
                          And sethen berrard after hym:
                        
                          He was a Geaunt styffe and gryme.
                        
                          This gentyll Gye, of whome I talke,

                          Line 11010

Page 625

                        
                          Line 11010 
                        
                          Thorough all the world hath he hys walke.
                        
                          All falshed and trechory
                        
                          Euer-more he wold dystroye.
                        
                          I may well hyt avow ryght,
                        
                          That he was a trew knyȝt.
                          Line 11015 
                        
                          Vppon a boke he dyd me swere
                        
                          At Wynchester no fer ne nere
                        
                          That I shuld wrey hym tyll no man
                        
                          Tell thys twelmoneth were a-gone.
                        
                          I have holdyn myn othe parfaye:
                          Line 11020 
                        
                          Yesterday was the laste daye.
                        
                          God assoyle the sowle ryȝt.'
                        
                          For sir Gye, the noble knyȝt, [Caius MS. 107 page 269] 
                        
                          To Warwyke wold they hym bere
                        
                          With gret honoure, to berry hym there,
                          Line 11025 
                        
                          But the cors, that lay ther dede,
                        
                          Myght no man stere of that stede.
                        
                          Quod the lady, 'lett hyt bee:
                        
                          Hens shall hyt neuer for me.
                        
                          He bad me be hys messengere
                          Line 11030 
                        
                          That I shuld berry hym here.'
                        
                          They toke a marbyll hem be-twene,
                        
                          And berryed hys body theryn.
                        
                          For-soth, ther was that ylke nyȝt
                        
                          Feyre servyse and noble lyȝte,
                          Line 11035 
                        
                          Also ther was on the morne
                        
                          When he was berryed hym be-forne.
                        
                          Songyn ther ys many a masse,
                        
                          And dole I-dalte to more and lasse.
                        
                          As sone as he was berryed there
                          Line 11040 
                        
                          Euery man gan hedyr fare
                        
                          But the lady gentill and free:
                        
                          Styll ther wold she bee.
                        
                          Fro thens wold she not fare
                        
                          While she levyd neuer-mare,
                          Line 11045 
                        
                          But servyd God with good prayer

Page 627

                        
                          For Gye, her lord, that was so dere;
                        
                          And so she dyd, with-owt fayle,
                        
                          Nyght and day with gret traveyle
                        
                          In goddys seruyse nyȝt and daye.
                          Line 11050 
                        
                          All that tyme that she ther laye
                        
                          Euer she dyd almes dede,
                        
                          And god a-quyte well her mede; [Caius MS. 107 page 270] 
                        
                          And euer she bad god besyly
                        
                          That she myȝt dye after hym hastyly.
                          Line 11055 
                        
                          She dyed at the fourty daye
                        
                          After Gye, as I yow seye.
                        
                          She was beryed hastyly
                        
                          Ryght ther be her lord sir Gye.
                        
                          To-gedyr be they in company
                          Line 11060 
                        
                          In blysse: I hope to oure lady,
                        
                          Iesus graunt vs so to do,
                        
                          That we may com hym to.
                        
                          Lordyngis, now have ye herd
                        
                          Of Gye of Warewyke, how he fard,
                          Line 11065 
                        
                          And how he led hys long lyfe
                        
                          In bateyle and in stryfe,
                        
                          But euer he lovyd hevyn kyng
                        
                          Moste ouer all thyng,
                        
                          And god hath a-quyt hys mede,
                          Line 11070 
                        
                          In geste as ye have herd rede.
                        
                          All goodnes was in that knyȝt:
                        
                          Feyre aventures fell hym in fyȝt.
                        
                          He was neuer yet in no stoure
                        
                          But he had moste honoure.
                          Line 11075 
                        
                          When sir Terry herd ryght
                        
                          That Gye was ded, that noble knyȝt,
                        
                          He come into ynglond:
                        
                          Kynge Athelstone sone he founde.
                        
                          He told hym of the love stronge
                          Line 11080 
                        
                          That was be-twene hem full longe.
                        
                          He prayed for the body of Gye þe knyȝt,

Page 629

                        
                          And he hym graunted a-none ryȝt [Caius MS. 107 page 271] 
                        
                          Gyes body with good chere
                        
                          To take hyt in fayer manere.
                          Line 11085 
                        
                          To lorreyne he dyd hyt bere,
                        
                          And dyd hyt gret honoure there.
                        
                          A feyer Abbey dyd he make
                        
                          In that Cyte for Gyes sake.
                        
                          Richest hyt ys, and euer shall be,
                          Line 11090 
                        
                          Of all the Abbeyes in that contre.
                        
                          Thus endyth the geste of sir Gye:
                        
                          God on hys sowle have mercy,
                        
                          And on owres when we be dede,
                        
                          And graunt vs in hevyn to have a sted.
                          Line 11095

Amen.

About this Item

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Guye of Warrewik. [Caius MS., 107, page 1.]

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