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Alle beon he blithe That to my song lythe! A sang ich schal you singe Of Murry the Kinge. King he was biweste So longe so hit laste. Godhild het his quen; Faire ne mighte non ben. He hadde a sone that het Horn; Fairer ne mighte non beo born, Ne no rein upon birine, Ne sunne upon bischine. Fairer nis non thane he was: He was bright so the glas; He was whit so the flur; Rose red was his colur. He was fayr and eke bold, And of fiftene winter hold. In none kinge riche Nas non his iliche. Twelf feren he hadde That he alle with him ladde, Alle riche mannes sones, And alle hi were faire gomes, With him for to pleie, And mest he luvede tweie; That on him het Hathulf child, And that other Fikenild. Athulf was the beste, And Fikenylde the werste. Hit was upon a someres day, Also ich you telle may, Murri, the gode King, Rod on his pleing Bi the se side, Ase he was woned ride. With him riden bote two - Al to fewe ware tho! He fond bi the stronde, Arived on his londe, Schipes fiftene With Sarazins kene He axede what hi soghte Other to londe broghte. A payn hit ofherde, And hym wel sone answarede: "Thy lond folk we schulle slon, And alle that Crist luveth upon And the selve right anon. Ne shaltu todai henne gon." The king alighte of his stede, For tho he havede nede, And his gode knightes two; Al to fewe he hadde tho. Swerd hi gunne gripe And togadere smite. Hy smyten under schelde That sume hit yfelde. The king hadde al to fewe Togenes so fele schrewe; So wele mighten ythe Bringe hem thre to dithe. The pains come to londe And neme hit in here honde That folc hi gunne quelle, And churchen for to felle. Ther ne moste libbe The fremde ne the sibbe. Bute hi here laye asoke, And to here toke. Of alle wymmanne Wurst was Godhild thanne. For Murri heo weop sore And for Horn yute more. He wente ut of halle Fram hire maidenes alle Under a roche of stone Ther heo livede alone. Ther heo servede Gode Aghenes the paynes forbode. Ther he servede Criste That no payn hit ne wiste. Evre heo bad for Horn child That Jesu Crist him beo myld. Horn was in paynes honde With his feren of the londe. Muchel was his fairhede, For Jhesu Crist him makede. Payns him wolde slen, Other al quic flen, Yef his fairnesse nere: The children alle aslaye were. Thanne spak on admirad - Of wordes he was bald, - "Horn, thu art well kene, And that is wel isene. Thu art gret and strong, Fair and evene long; Thu schalt waxe more Bi fulle seve yere. Yef thu mote to live go And thine feren also, Yef hit so bi falle, Ye scholde slen us alle: Tharvore thu most to stere, Thu and thine ifere; To schupe schulle ye funde, And sinke to the grunde. The se you schal adrenche, Ne schal hit us noght ofthinche. For if thu were alive, With swerd other with knive, We scholden alle deie, And thi fader deth abeie." The children hi broghte to stronde, Wringinde here honde, Into schupes borde At the furste worde. Ofte hadde Horn beo wo, Ac nevre wurs than him was tho. The se bigan to flowe, And Horn child to rowe; The se that schup so fasste drof The children dradde therof. Hi wenden towisse Of here lif to misse, Al the day and al the night Til hit sprang dailight, Til Horn sagh on the stronde Men gon in the londe. "Feren," quath he, "yonge, Ich telle you tithinge: Ich here foyeles singe And that gras him springe. Blithe beo we on lyve; Ure schup is on ryve." Of schup hi gunne funde, And setten fout to grunde. Bi the se side Hi leten that schup ride. Thanne spak him child Horn, In Suddene he was iborn: "Schup bi the se flode, Daies have thu gode. Bi the se brinke, No water the nadrinke. Yef thu cume to Suddene, Gret thu wel of myne kenne, Gret thu wel my moder, Godhild, Quen the gode, And seie the paene king, Jesu Cristes withering, That ich am hol and fer On this lond arived her; And seie that hei schal fonde The dent of myne honde." The children yede to tune, Bi dales and bi dune. Hy metten with Almair King, Crist yeven him His blessing King of Westernesse Crist yive him muchel blisse! He him spac to Horn child Wordes that were mild: "Whannes beo ye, faire gumes, That her to londe beoth icume, Alle throttene, Of bodie swithe kene? Bi God that me makede, A swich fair verade Ne saugh ich in none stunde, Bi westene londe: Seie me wat ye seche." Horn spak here speche, He spak for hem alle, Vor so hit moste bivalle: He was the faireste And of wit the beste. "We beoth of Suddenne, Icome of gode kenne, Of Cristene blode, And kynges swthe gode. Payns ther gunne arive And duden hem of lyve. Hi sloghen and todroghe Cristene men inoghe. So Crist me mote rede, Us hi dude lede Into a galeie, With the se to pleie, Dai hit is igon and other, Withute sail and rother: Ure schip bigan to swymme To this londes brymme. Nu thu might us slen and binde Ore honde bihynde. Bute yef hit beo thi wille, Helpe that we ne spille." Thanne spak the gode kyng Iwis he nas no nithing "Seie me, child, what is thi name? Ne schaltu have bute game." The child him answerde, Sone so he hit herde: "Horn ich am ihote, Icomen ut of the bote, Fram the se side. Kyng, wel mote thee tide." Thanne hym spak the gode king, "Well bruc thu thin evening. Horn, thu go wel schulle Bi dales and bi hulle; Horn, thu lude sune, Bi dales and bi dune; So schal thi name springe Fram kynge to kynge, And thi fairnesse Abute Westernesse, The strengthe of thine honde Into evrech londe. Horn, thu art so swete, Ne may ich the forlete." Hom rod Aylmar the Kyng And Horn mid him, his fundling, And alle his ifere, That were him so dere. The kyng com into halle Among his knightes alle; Forth he clupede Athelbrus, That was stiward of his hus. "Stiward, tak nu here My fundlyng for to lere Of thine mestere, Of wude and of rivere, And tech him to harpe With his nayles scharpe, Bivore me to kerve, And of the cupe serve. Thu tech him of alle the liste That thu evre of wiste, And his feiren thou wise In to othere servise. Horn thu undervonge And tech him of harpe and songe." Ailbrus gan lere Horn and his yfere. Horn in herte laghte Al that he him taghte. In the curt and ute, And elles al abute Luvede men Horn child, And mest him luvede Rymenhild, The kynges owene doghter. He was mest in thoghte; Heo luvede so Horn child That negh heo gan wexe wild: For heo ne mighte at borde With him speke no worde, Ne noght in the halle Among the knightes alle, Ne nowhar in non othere stede. Of folk heo hadde drede: Bi daie ne bi nighte With him speke ne mighte. Hire soreghe ne hire pine Ne mighte nevre fine. In heorte heo hadde wo, And thus hire bithoghte tho: Heo sende hire sonde Athelbrus to honde, That he come hire to, And also scholde Horn do, Al in to bure, For heo gan to lure; And the sonde seide That sik lai that maide, And bad him come swithe For heo nas nothing blithe. The stward was in herte wo, For he nuste what to do. Wat Rymenhild hure thoghte Gret wunder him thughte, Abute Horn the yonge To bure for to bringe. He thoghte upon his mode Hit nas for none gode: He tok him another, Athulf, Hornes brother. "Athulf," he sede, "right anon Thu schalt with me to bure gon To speke with Rymenhild stille And witen hure wille. In Hornes ilike Thu schalt hure biswike: Sore ich me ofdrede Heo wolde Horn misrede." Athelbrus gan Athulf lede, And into bure with him yede: Anon upon Athulf child Rymenhild gan wexe wild: Heo wende that Horn hit were That heo havede there: Heo sette him on bedde; With Athulf child he wedde; On hire armes tweie Athulf heo gan leie. "Horn," quath heo, "wel longe Ich habbe thee luved stronge. Thu schalt thi trewthe plighte On myn hond her righte, Me to spuse holde, And ich thee lord to wolde." Athulf sede on hire ire So stille so hit were, "Thi tale nu thu lynne, For Horn nis noght her inne. Ne beo we noght iliche: Horn is fairer and riche, Fairer bi one ribbe Thane eni man that libbe: Thegh Horn were under molde Other elles wher he wolde Other henne a thusend mile, Ich nolde him ne thee bigile." Rymenhild hire biwente, And Athelbrus fule heo schente. "Hennes thu go, thu fule theof, Ne wurstu me nevre more leof; Went ut of my bur, With muchel mesaventur. Schame mote thu fonge And on highe rode anhonge. Ne spek ich noght with Horn: Nis he noght so unorn; Horn is fairer thane beo he: With muchel schame mote thu deie." Athelbrus in a stunde Fel anon to grunde. "Lefdi min oghe, Lithe me a litel throghe! Lust whi ich wonde Bringe thee Horn to honde. For Horn is fair and riche, Nis no whar his iliche. Aylmar, the gode Kyng, Dude him on mi lokyng. Yef Horn were her abute, Sore I me dute With him ye wolden pleie Bitwex you selve tweie. Thanne scholde withuten othe The kyng maken us wrothe. Rymenhild, foryef me thi tene, Lefdi, my quene, And Horn ich schal thee fecche, Wham so hit recche." Rymenhild, yef he cuthe, Gan lynne with hire muthe. Heo makede hire wel blithe; Wel was hire that sithe. "Go nu," quath heo, "sone, And send him after none, On a squieres wise. Whane the kyng arise To wude for to pleie, Nis non that him biwreie. He schal with me bileve Til hit beo nir eve, To haven of him mi wille; After ne recche ich what me telle." : 1 Aylbrus wende hire fro; Horn in halle fond he tho Bifore the kyng on benche, Wyn for to schenche. "Horn," quath he, "so hende, To bure nu thu wende, After mete stille, With Rymenhild to dwelle; Wordes swthe bolde, In herte thu hem holde. Horn, beo me wel trewe; Ne schal hit thee nevre rewe." Horn in herte leide Al that he him seide; He yeode in wel righte To Rymenhild the brighte. On knes he him sette, And sweteliche hure grette. Of his feire sighte Al the bur gan lighte. He spac faire speche - Ne dorte him noman teche. "Wel thu sitte and softe, Rymenhild the brighte, With thine maidenes sixe That the sitteth nixte. Kinges stward ure Sende me in to bure; With thee speke ich scholde. Seie me what thu woldest: Seie, and ich schal here What thi wille were." Rymenhild up gan stonde And tok him bi the honde: Heo sette him on pelle Of wyn to drinke his fulle: Heo makede him faire chere And tok him abute the swere. Ofte heo him custe, So wel so hire luste. "Horn," heo sede, "withute strif, Thu schalt have me to thi wif. Horn, have of me rewthe, And plist me thi trewthe. Horn tho him bithoghte What he speke mighte. "Crist," quath he, "thee wisse, And yive thee hevene blisse Of thine husebonde, Wher he beo in londe. Ich am ibore to lowe Such wimman to knowe. Ich am icome of thralle And fundling bifalle. Ne feolle hit the of cunde To spuse beo me bunde. Hit nere no fair wedding Bitwexe a thral and a king." Tho gan Rymenhild mislyke And sore gan to sike: Armes heo gan bughe; Adun heo feol iswoghe. Horn in herte was ful wo And tok hire on his armes two. He gan hire for to kesse Wel ofte mid ywisse. "Lemman," he sede, "dere, Thin herte nu thu stere. Help me to knighte Bi al thine mighte, To my lord the king That he me yive dubbing: Thanne is mi thralhod I went in to knighthod And I schal wexe more, And do, lemman, thi lore." Rymenhild, that swete thing, Wakede of hire swoghning. "Horn," quath heo, "wel sone That schal beon idone. Thu schalt beo dubbed knight Are come seve night. Have her this cuppe And this ryng ther uppe To Aylbrus the stuard, And se he holde foreward. Seie ich him biseche, With loveliche speche, That he adun falle Bifore the king in halle, And bidde the king arighte Dubbe thee to knighte. With selver and with golde Hit wurth him wel iyolde. Crist him lene spede Thin erende to bede." Horn tok his leve, For hit was negh eve. Athelbrus he soghte And yaf him that he broghte, And tolde him ful yare Hu he hadde ifare, And sede him his nede, And bihet him his mede. Athelbrus also swithe Wente to halle blive. "Kyng," he sede, "thu leste A tale mid the beste. Thu schalt bere crune Tomoreghe in this tune; Tomoreghe is thi feste: Ther bihoveth geste. Hit nere noght for loren For to knighti child Horn, Thine armes for to welde: God knight he schal yelde." The king sede sone, "That is wel idone. Horn me wel iquemeth; God knight him bisemeth. He schal have mi dubbing And after wurth mi derling. And alle his feren twelf He schal knighten himself: Alle he schal hem knighte Bifore me this nighte." Til the light of day sprang Ailmar him thughte lang. The day bigan to springe; Horn com bivore the kinge, Mid his twelf yfere, Sume hi were luthere. Horn he dubbede to knighte With swerd and spures brighte. He sette him on a stede whit: Ther nas no knight hym ilik. He smot him a litel wight And bed him beon a god knight. Athulf fel aknes thar Bivore the King Aylmar. "King," he sede, "so kene Grante me a bene: Nu is knight Sire Horn That in Suddene was iboren; Lord he is of londe Over us that bi him stonde; Thin armes he hath and scheld To fighte with upon the feld: Let him us alle knighte For that is ure righte." Aylmar sede sone ywis, "Do nu that thi wille is." Horn adun lighte And makede hem alle knightes. Murie was the feste Al of faire gestes: Ac Rymenhild nas noght ther, And that hire thughte seve yer. After Horn heo sente, And he to bure wente. Nolde he noght go one; Athulf was his mone. Rymenhild on flore stod: Hornes come hire thughte god: And sede, "Welcome, Sire Horn, And Athulf knight the biforn. Knight, nu is thi time For to sitte bi me. Do nu that thu er of spake: To thy wif thu me take. Ef thu art trewe of dedes, Do nu ase thu sedes. Nu thu hast wille thine, Unbind me of my pine." "Rymenhild," quath he, "beo stille! Ich wulle don al thi wille, Also hit mot bitide. Mid spere I schal furst ride, And mi knighthod prove, Ar ich thee ginne to woghe. We beth knightes yonge, Of o dai al isprunge; And of ure mestere So is the manere: With sume othere knighte Wel for his lemman fighte Or he eni wif take; Forthi me stondeth the more rape. Today, so Crist me blesse, Ich wulle do pruesse, For thi luve in the felde Mid spere and mid schelde. If ich come to lyve, Ich schal thee take to wyve." "Knight," quath heo, "trewe, Ich wene ich mai thee leve: Tak nu her this gold ring: God him is the dubbing; Ther is upon the ringe Igrave "Rymenhild the yonge": Ther nis non betere anonder sunne That eni man of telle cunne. For my luve thu hit were And on thi finger thu him bere. The stones beoth of suche grace That thu ne schalt in none place Of none duntes beon ofdrad, Ne on bataille beon amad, Ef thu loke theran And thenke upon thi lemman. And Sire Athulf, thi brother, He schal have another. Horn, ich thee biseche With loveliche speche, Crist yeve god erndinge Thee aghen to bringe." The knight hire gan kesse, And heo him to blesse. Leve at hire he nam, And in to halle cam: The knightes yeden to table, And Horne yede to stable: Thar he tok his gode fole, Also blak so eny cole. The fole schok the brunie That al the curt gan denie. The fole bigan to springe, And Horn murie to singe. Horn rod in a while More than a myle. He fond o schup stonde With hethene honde. He axede what hi soghte Other to londe broghte. An hund him gan bihelde That spac wordes belde: "This lond we wullegh winne And sle that ther is inne." Horn gan his swerd gripe And on his arme wype. The Sarazins he smatte That his blod hatte; At evreche dunte The heved of wente; Tho gunne the hundes gone Abute Horn a lone: He lokede on the ringe, And thoghte on Rimenilde; He slogh ther on haste On hundred bi the laste, Ne mighte noman telle That folc that he gan quelle. Of alle that were alive, Ne mighte ther non thrive. Horn tok the maisteres heved, That he hadde him bireved And sette hit on his swerde, Anoven at than orde. He verde hom into halle, Among the knightes alle. "Kyng," he sede, "wel thu sitte, And alle thine knightes mitte. Today, after mi dubbing, So I rod on my pleing I fond o schup rowe Mid watere al byflowe Al with Sarazines kyn, And none londisse men To dai for to pine Thee and alle thine. Hi gonne me assaille: Mi swerd me nolde faille: I smot hem alle to grunde, Other yaf hem dithes wunde. That heved I thee bringe Of the maister kinge. Nu is thi wile iyolde, King, that thu me knighty woldest." A moreghe tho the day gan springe, The king him rod an huntinge. At hom lefte Fikenhild, That was the wurste moder child. Horn ferde into bure To sen aventure. He saw Rymenild sitte Also heo were of witte. Heo sat on the sunne With tieres al birunne. Horn sede, "Lef, thin ore! Wi wepestu so sore?" Heo sede, "Noght I ne wepe, Bute ase I lay aslepe To the se my net I caste, And hit nolde noght ilaste; A gret fiss at the furste Mi net he gan to berste. Ich wene that ich schal leose The fiss that ich wolde cheose." "Crist," quath Horn, "and Seint Stevene Turne thine swevene. Ne schal I thee biswike, Ne do that thee mislike. I schal me make thin owe To holden and to knowe For everech othere wighte, And tharto mi treuthe I thee plighte." Muchel was the ruthe That was at thare truthe, For Rymenhild weop ille, And Horn let the tires stille. "Lemman, quath he, "dere, Thu schalt more ihere. Thi sweven schal wende Other sum man schal us schende. The fiss that brak the lyne, Ywis he doth us pine. That schal don us tene, And wurth wel sone isene." Aylmar rod bi Sture, And Horn lai in bure. Fykenhild hadde envye And sede thes folye: "Aylmar, ich thee warne Horn thee wule berne: Ich herde whar he sede, And his swerd forth leide, To bringe thee of lyve, And take Rymenhild to wyve. He lith in bure Under coverture By Rymenhild thi doghter, And so he doth wel ofte. And thider thu go al right, Ther thu him finde might. Thu do him ut of londe, Other he doth thee schonde!" Aylmar aghen gan turne Wel modi and wel murne. He fond Horn in arme On Rymenhilde barme. "Awey ut," he sede, "fule theof, Ne wurstu me nevremore leof! Wend ut of my bure With muchel messaventure. Wel sone bute thu flitte, With swerde ich thee anhitte. Wend ut of my londe, Other thu schalt have schonde." Horn sadelede his stede And his armes he gan sprede. His brunie he gan lace So he scholde in to place. His swerd he gan fonge: Nabod he noght to longe. He yede forth blive To Rymenhild his wyve. He sede, "Lemman derling, Nu havestu thi swevening. The fiss that thi net rente, Fram thee he me sente. Rymenhild, have wel godne day: No leng abiden I ne may. In to uncuthe londe, Wel more for to fonde; I schal wune there Fulle seve yere. At seve yeres ende, Yef I ne come ne sende, Tak thee husebonde; For me thu ne wonde. In armes thu me fonge, And kes me wel longe." Heo custe him wel a stunde And Rymenhild feol to grunde. Horn tok his leve: Ne mighte he no leng bileve; He tok Athulf, his fere, Al abute the swere, And sede, "Knight so trewe, Kep wel mi luve newe. Thu nevre me ne forsoke: Rymenhild thu kep and loke. His stede he gan bistride, And forth he gan ride: To the havene he ferde, And a god schup he hurede, That him scholde londe In westene londe. Athulf weop with ighe And al that him isighe. The whyght him gan stonde, And drof til Hirelonde. To londe he him sette And fot on stirop sette. He fond bi the weie Kynges sones tweie; That on him het Harild, And that other Berild. Berild gan him preie That he scholde him seie What his name were And what he wolde there. "Cutberd," he sede, "ich hote, Icomen ut of the bote, Wel feor fram biweste To seche mine beste." Berild gan him nier ride And tok him by the bridel: "Wel beo thu, knight, ifounde; With me thu lef a stunde. Also mote I sterve, The king thu schalt serve. Ne sagh I nevre my lyve So fair knight aryve." Cutberd heo ladde in to halle, And hi a kne gan falle: He sette him a knewelyng And grette wel the gode king. Thanne sede Berild sone: "Sire King, of him thu hast to done; Bitak him thi lond to werie; Ne schal hit noman derie, For he is the faireste man That evre yut on thi londe cam." Thanne sede the king so dere, "Welcome beo thu here. Go nu, Berild, swithe, And make him ful blithe. And whan thu farst to woghe, Tak him thine glove: Iment thu havest to wyve, Awai he schal thee dryve; For Cutberdes fairhede Ne schal thee nevre wel spede." Hit was at Cristemasse, Neither more ne lasse; Ther cam in at none A geaunt swthe sone, Iarmed fram paynyme And seide thes ryme: "Site stille, Sire Kyng, And herkne this tything: Her buth paens arived; Wel mo thane five Her beoth on the sonde, King, upon thy londe; On of hem wile fighte Aghen thre knightes. Yef other thre slen ure, Al this lond beo youre; Yef ure on overcometh your threo, Al this lond schal ure beo. Tomoreghe be the fightinge, Whane the light of daye springe." Thanne sede the Kyng Thurston, "Cutberd schal beo that on; Berild schal beo that other, The thridde Alrid his brother; For hi beoth the strengeste And of armes the beste. Bute what schal us to rede? Ich wene we beth alle dede." Cutberd sat at borde And sede thes wordes: "Sire King, hit nis no righte On with thre to fighte: Aghen one hunde, Thre Cristen men to fonde. Sire, I schal alone, Withute more ymone, With mi swerd wel ethe Bringe hem thre to dethe." The king aros amoreghe, That hadde muchel sorghe; And Cutberd ros of bedde, With armes he him schredde: Horn his brunie gan on caste, And lacede hit wel faste, And cam to the kinge At his up risinge. "King," he sede, "cum to felde, For to bihelde Hu we fighte schulle, And togare go wulle." Right at prime tide Hi gunnen ut ride And funden on a grene A geaunt swthe kene, His feren him biside Hore deth to abide. The ilke bataille Cutberd gan asaille: He yaf dentes inoghe; The knightes felle iswoghe. His dent he gan withdraghe, For hi were negh aslaghe; And sede, "Knights, nu ye reste One while ef you leste." Hi sede hi nevre nadde Of knighte dentes so harde, Bote of the King Murry, That wes swithe sturdy. He was of Hornes kunne, Iborn in Suddene. Horn him gan to agrise, And his blod arise. Bivo him sagh he stonde That driven him of lond And that his fader slogh. To him his swerd he drogh. He lokede on his rynge And thoghte on Rymenhilde. He smot him thuregh the herte, That sore him gan to smerte. The paens that er were so sturne Hi gunne awei urne; Horn and his compaynye Gunne after hem wel swithe highe And sloghen alle the hundes Er hi here schipes funde. To dethe he hem alle broghte. His fader deth wel dere hi boghte. Of alle the kynges knightes Ne scathede wer no wighte, Bute his sones tweie Bifore him he sagh deie. The king bigan to grete And teres for to lete. Me leiden hem in bare And burden hem ful yare. The king com into halle Among his knightes alle. "Horn," he sede, "I seie thee, Do as I schal rede thee. Aslaghen beth mine heirs, And thu art knight of muchel pris, And of grete strengthe, And fair o bodie lengthe. Mi rengne thu schalt welde, And to spuse helde Reynild, mi doghter, That sitteth on the lofte." "O Sire King, with wronge Scholte ich hit underfonge, Thi doghter, that ye me bede, Ower rengne for to lede. Wel more ich schal thee serve, Sire Kyng, or thu sterve. Thi sorwe schal wende Or seve yeres ende. Whanne hit is wente, Sire King, yef me mi rente. Whanne I thi doghter yerne, Ne shaltu me hire werne." Cutberd wonede there Fulle seve yere That to Rymenild he ne sente Ne him self ne wente. Rymenild was in Westernesse With wel muchel sorinesse. A king ther gan arive That wolde hire have to wyve; Aton he was with the king Of that ilke wedding. The daies were schorte, That Rimenhild ne dorste Leten in none wise. A writ he dude devise; Athulf hit dude write, That Horn ne luvede noght lite. Heo sende hire sonde To evereche londe To seche Horn the knight Ther me him finde mighte. Horn noght therof ne herde Til o day that he ferde To wude for to schete. A knave he gan imete. Horn seden, "Leve fere, What sechestu here?" "Knight, if beo thi wille, I mai thee sone telle. I seche fram biweste Horn of Westernesse For a maiden Rymenhild, That for him gan wexe wild. A king hire wile wedde And bringe to his bedde, King Modi of Reynes, On of Hornes enemis. Ich habbe walke wide, Bi the se side; Nis he nowar ifunde. Walawai the stunde! Wailaway the while! Nu wurth Rymenild bigiled." Horn iherde with his ires, And spak with bidere tires: "Knave, wel thee bitide! Horn stondeth thee biside. Aghen to hure thu turne And seie that heo nu murne, For I schal beo ther bitime, A Soneday by prime." The knave was wel blithe And highede aghen blive. The se bigan to throghe Under hire woghe. The knave there gan adrinke: Rymenhild hit mighte ofthinke. The see him con ded throwe Under hire chambre wowe. Rymenhild undude the durepin Of the hus ther heo was in, To loke with hire ighe If heo oght of Horn isighe: Tho fond heo the knave adrent, That heo hadde for Horn isent, And that scholde Horn bringe. Hire fingres heo gan wringe. Horn cam to Thurston the King And tolde him this tithing. Tho he was iknowe That Rimenhild was his oghe; Of his gode kenne The King of Suddenne, And hu he slogh in felde That his fader quelde, And seide, "King the wise, Yeld me mi servise. Rymenhild help me winne, That thu noght ne linne: And I schal do to spuse Thi doghter wel to huse: Heo schal to spuse have Athulf, mi gode felaghe, God knight mid the beste And the treweste." The king sede so stille, "Horn, have nu thi wille." He dude writes sende Into Yrlonde After knightes lighte, Irisse men to fighte. To Horn come inoghe That to schupe droghe. Horn dude him in the weie On a god galeie. The wind him gan to blowe In a litel throghe. The se bigan to posse Right in to Westernesse. Hi strike seil and maste And ankere gunne caste, Or eny day was sprunge Other belle irunge. The word bigan to springe Of Rymenhilde weddinge. Horn was in the watere, Ne mighte he come no latere. He let his schup stonde, And yede to londe. His folk he dude abide Under wude side. Horn him yede alone Also he sprunge of stone. A palmere he thar mette And faire hine grette: "Palmere, thu schalt me telle Al of thine spelle." He sede upon his tale, "I come fram o brudale; Ich was at o wedding Of a maide Rymenhild: Ne mighte heo adrighe That heo ne weop with ighe. Heo sede that heo nolde Ben ispused with golde. Heo hadde on husbonde Thegh he were ut of londe. And in strong halle, Bithinne castel walle, Ther I was atte yate, Nolde hi me in late. Modi ihote hadde To bure that me hire ladde: Away I gan glide: That deol I nolde abide. The bride wepeth sore, And that is muche deole." Quath Horn, "So Crist me rede, We schulle chaungi wede. Have her clothes myne And tak me thi sclavyne, Today I schal ther drinke That some hit schulle ofthinke." His sclavyn he dude dun legge, And tok hit on his rigge, He tok Horn his clothes: That nere him noght lothe. Horn tok burdon and scrippe And wrong his lippe. He makede him a ful chere, And al bicolmede his swere. He makede him unbicomelich Hes he nas nevremore ilich. He com to the gateward, That him answerede hard: Horn bad undo softe Mani tyme and ofte; Ne mighte he awynne That he come therinne. Horn gan to the yate turne And that wiket unspurne. The boye hit scholde abugge. Horn threw him over the brigge That his ribbes him tobrake, And suthe com in atte gate. He sette him wel loghe In beggeres rowe; He lokede him abute With his colmie snute; He segh Rymenhild sitte Ase heo were of witte, Sore wepinge and yerne; Ne mighte hure no man wurne. He lokede in eche halke; Ne segh he nowhar walke Athulf his felawe, That he cuthe knowe. Athulf was in the ture, Abute for to pure After his comynge, Yef schup him wolde bringe. He segh the se flowe And Horn nowar rowe. He sede upon his songe: "Horn, nu thu ert wel longe. Rymenhild thu me toke That I scholde loke; Ich habbe ikept hure evre; Com nu other nevre: I ne may no leng hure kepe. For soreghe nu I wepe." Rymenhild ros of benche, Wyn for to schenche, After mete in sale, Bothe wyn and ale. On horn heo bar anhonde, So laghe was in londe. Knightes and squier Alle dronken of the ber, Bute Horn alone Nadde therof no mone. Horn sat upon the grunde; Him thughte he was ibunde. He sede, "Quen so hende, To meward thu wende; Thu yef us with the furste; The beggeres beoth ofthurste." Hure horn heo leide adun, And fulde him of a brun His bolle of a galun; For heo wende he were a glotoun. Heo seide, "Have this cuppe, And this thing theruppe. Ne sagh ich nevre, so ich wene, Beggere that were so kene." Horn tok hit his ifere And sede, "Quen so dere, Wyn nelle ich muche ne lite But of cuppe white. Thu wenest I beo a beggere, And ich am a fissere, Wel feor icome by este For fissen at thi feste. Mi net lith her bi honde, Bi a wel fair stronde. Hit hath ileie there Fulle seve yere. Ich am icome to loke Ef eni fiss hit toke. Ich am icome to fisse: Drynke null I of dyssh: Drink to Horn of horne. Feor ich am jorne." Rymenhild him gan bihelde; Hire heorte bigan to chelde. Ne knew heo noght his fissing, Ne Horn hymselve nothing. Ac wunder hire gan thinke Whi he bad to Horn drinke. Heo fulde hire horn with wyn And dronk to the pilegrym. Heo sede, "Drink thi fulle, And suthe thu me telle If thu evre isighe Horn under wude lighe." Horn dronk of horn a stunde And threu the ring to grunde. He seyde, "Quen, nou seche Qwat is in thy drenche." The Quen yede to bure With hire maidenes foure. Tho fond heo what heo wolde, A ring igraven of golde That Horn of hure hadde; Sore hure dradde That Horn isterve were, For the ring was there. Tho sente heo a damesele After the palmere; "Palmere," quath heo, "trewe, The ring that thu threwe, Thu seie whar thu hit nome, And whi thu hider come." He sede, "Bi Seint Gile, Ich habbe go mani mile, Wel feor by yonde weste To seche my beste. I fond Horn child stonde To schupeward in londe. 2 He sede he wolde agesse To arive in Westernesse. The schip nam to the flode With me and Horn the gode; Horn was sik and deide, And faire he me preide: 'Go with the ringe To Rymenhild the yonge.' Ofte he hit custe, God yeve his saule reste!" Rymenhild sede at the furste, "Herte, nu thu berste, For Horn nastu namore, That thee hath pined so sore." Heo feol on hire bedde, Ther heo knif hudde, To sle with king lothe And hureselve bothe In that ulke nighte, If Horn come ne mighte. To herte knif heo sette, Ac Horn anon hire kepte. He wipede that blake of his swere, And sede, "Quen, so swete and dere, Ich am Horn thin oghe. Ne canstu me noght knowe? Ich am Horn of Westernesse; In armes thu me cusse." Hi custe hem mid ywisse And makeden muche blisse. "Rymenhild," he sede, "I wende Adun to the wudes ende: Ther beth myne knightes Redi to fighte; Iarmed under clothe, Hi schulle make wrothe The king and his geste That come to the feste. Today I schal hem teche And sore hem areche." Horn sprong ut of halle And let his sclavin falle. The quen yede to bure And fond Athulf in ture. "Athulf," heo sede, "be blithe And to Horn thu go wel swithe. He is under wude boghe And with him knightes inoghe." Athulf bigan to springe For the tithinge. After Horn he arnde anon, Also that hors mighte gon. He him overtok ywis; Hi makede swithe muchel blis. Horn tok his preie And dude him in the weie. He com in wel sone: The yates were undone. Iarmed ful thikke Fram fote to the nekke, Alle that were therin Bithute his twelf ferin And the King Aylmare, He dude hem alle to kare, That at the feste were; Here lif hi lete there. Horn ne dude no wunder Of Fikenhildes false tunge. Hi sworen othes holde, That nevre ne scholde Horn nevre bitraie, Thegh he at dithe laie. Hi runge the belle The wedlak for to felle; Horn him yede with his To the kinges palais, Ther was bridale swete, For riche men ther ete. Telle ne mighte tunge That gle that ther was sunge. Horn sat on chaere, And bad hem alle ihere. "King," he sede, "thu luste A tale mid the beste. I ne seie hit for no blame: Horn is mi name. Thu me to knight hove, And knighthod have proved To thee, king, men seide That I thee bitraide; Thu makedest me fleme, And thi lond to reme; Thu wendest that I wroghte That I nevre ne thoghte, Bi Rymenhild for to ligge, And that I withsegge. Ne schal ich hit biginne, Til I Suddene winne. Thu kep hure a stunde, The while that I funde In to min heritage, And to mi baronage. That lond I schal ofreche And do mi fader wreche. I schal beo king of tune, And bere kinges crune; Thanne schal Rymenhilde Ligge bi the kinge." Horn gan to schupe draghe With his Irisse felaghes, Athulf with him, his brother: Nolde he non other. That schup bigan to crude; The wind him bleu lude; Bithinne daies five That schup gan arive Abute middelnighte. Horn him yede wel righte; He tok Athulf bi honde And up he yede to londe. Hi founde under schelde A knight hende in felde. Op the schelde was drawe A crowch of Jhesu Cristes lawe. The knight him aslepe lay Al biside the way. Horn him gan to take And sede, "Knight, awake! Seie what thu kepest? And whi thu her slepest? Me thinkth bi thine crois lighte, That thu longest to ure Drighte. Bute thu wule me schewe, I schal thee tohewe." The gode knight up aros; Of the wordes him gros. He sede, "Ich serve aghenes my wille Payns ful ylle. Ich was Cristene a while: Tho icom to this ille Sarazins blake, That dude me forsake. On Crist ich wolde bileve. On him hi makede me reve To kepe this passage Fram Horn that is of age, That wunieth biweste, Knight with the beste; Hi sloghe with here honde The king of this londe, And with him fele hundred, And therof is wunder That he ne cometh to fighte. God sende him the righte, And wind him hider drive To bringe hem of live. He sloghen Kyng Murry, Hornes fader, king hendy. Horn hi ut of londe sente; Twelf felawes with him wente, Among hem Athulf the gode, Min owene child, my leve fode: Ef Horn child is hol and sund, And Athulf bithute wund, He luveth him so dere, And is him so stere. Mighte I seon hem tweie, For joie I scholde deie." "Knight, beo thanne blithe Mest of alle sithe; Horn and Athulf his fere Bothe hi ben here." To Horn he gan gon And grette him anon. Muche joie hi makede there The while hi togadere were. "Childre," he sede, hu habbe ye fare? That ich you segh, hit is ful yare. Wulle ye this lond winne And sle that ther is inne?" He sede, "Leve Horn child, Yut lyveth thi moder Godhild: Of joie heo miste If heo thee alive wiste." Horn sede on his rime, "Iblessed beo the time I com to Suddene With mine Irisse menne: We schulle the hundes teche To speken ure speche. Alle we hem schulle sle, And al quic hem fle." Horn gan his horn to blowe; His folk hit gan iknowe; Hi comen ut of stere, Fram Hornes banere; Hi sloghen and fughten, The night and the ughten. The Sarazins cunde Ne lefde ther non in th'ende. Horn let wurche Chapeles and chirche; He let belles ringe And masses let singe. He com to his moder halle In a roche walle. Corn he let serie, And makede feste merie; Murye lif he wroghte. Rymenhild hit dere boghte. Fikenhild was prut on herte, And that him dude smerte. Yonge he yaf and elde Mid him for to helde. Ston he dude lede, Ther he hopede spede, Strong castel he let sette, Mid see him biflette; Ther ne mighte lighte Bute foghel with flighte. Bute whanne the se withdrowe, Mighte come men ynoghe. Fikenhild gan wende Rymenhild to schende. To woghe he gan hure yerne; The kyng ne dorste him werne. Rymenhild was ful of mode; He wep teres of blode. That night Horn gan swete And hevie for tomete Of Rymenhild, his make, Into schupe was itake. The schup bigan to blenche: His lemman scholde adrenche. Rymenhild with hire honde Wolde up to londe; Fikenhild aghen hire pelte With his swerdes hilte. Horn him wok of slape So a man that hadde rape. "Athulf," he sede, "felaghe, To schupe we mote draghe. Fikenhild me hath idon under And Rymenhild to do wunder. Crist, for his wundes five, Tonight me thuder drive." Horn gan to schupe ride, His feren him biside. Fikenhild, or the dai gan springe, Al right he ferde to the kinge, After Rymenhild the brighte, To wedden hire bi nighte. He ladde hure bi the derke Into his nywe werke. The feste hi bigunne, Er that ros the sunne. Er thane Horn hit wiste, Tofore the sunne upriste, His schup stod under ture At Rymenhilde bure. Rymenhild, litel weneth heo That Horn thanne alive beo. The castel thei ne knewe, For he was so nywe. Horn fond sittinde Arnoldin, That was Athulfes cosin, That ther was in that tide, Horn for tabide. "Horn knight," he sede, "kinges sone, Wel beo thu to londe icome. Today hath ywedde Fikenhild Thi swete lemman Rymenhild. Ne schal I thee lie: He hath giled thee twie. This tur he let make Al for thine sake. Ne mai ther come inne Noman with none ginne. Horn, nu Crist thee wisse, Of Rymenhild that thu ne misse." Horn cuthe al the liste That eni man of wiste. Harpe he gan schewe, And tok felawes fewe, Of knightes swithe snelle That schrudde hem at wille. 3 Hi yeden bi the gravel Toward the castel. Hi gunne murie singe And makede here gleowinge. Rymenhild hit gan ihere And axede what hi were. Hi sede hi weren harpurs And sume were gigours. He dude Horn in late Right at halle gate. He sette him on the benche, His harpe for to clenche. He makede Rymenhilde lay, And heo makede walaway. Rymenhild feol yswoghe Ne was ther non that loughe. Hit smot to Hornes herte So bitere that hit smerte. He lokede on the ringe And thoghte on Rymenhilde: He yede up to borde With gode swerdes orde: Fikenhildes crune Ther he fulde adune, And al his men a rowe, Hi dude adun throwe. Whanne hi weren aslaghe Fikenhild hi dude todraghe. Horn makede Arnoldin thare King after King Aylmare Of al Westernesse For his meoknesse. The king and his homage Yeven Arnoldin trewage. Horn tok Rymenhild bi the honde And ladde hure to the stronde, And ladde with him Athelbrus, The gode stward of his hus. The se bigan to flowe, And Horn gan to rowe. Hi gunne for to arive Ther King Modi was sire. Athelbrus he makede ther king For his gode teching: He yaf alle the knightes ore For Horn knightes lore. Horn gan for to ride; The wind him blew wel wide. He arivede in Yrlonde, Ther he wo fonde, Ther he dude Athulf child Wedden maide Reynild. Horn com to Suddenne Among al his kenne; Rymenhild he makede his quene; So hit mighte wel beon. Al folk hem mighte rewe That loveden hem so trewe: Nu ben hi bothe dede - Crist to hevene hem lede! Her endeth the tale of Horn That fair was and noght unorn. Make we us glade evre among, For thus him endeth Hornes song. Jesus, that is of hevene king, Yeve us alle His swete blessing. Amen. |
be happy; (see note) [Who]; listen (see note) in the west; (see note) it (i.e., his life); (see note) was called Fairer be; (see note) rain fell upon or sun shone as; (see note) flower also; (see note) old no other kingdom anyone like him companions led they; good fellows most one of them was called Athulf; (see note) (see note) As I Rode for sport; (see note) seaside used to (see note) too; were they shore ships(see note) Saracens bold; (see note) asked; they sought; (see note) Or pagan heard it slay (see note) Nor shall you; hence off; (see note) then; had then they began So that; felt Against so many villains easily; they death pagans came took it into their possession folk; kill churches to destroy might not live strangers; relatives; (see note) Unless they their religion forsook theirs took Most miserable she wept yet (even) out (see note) Against the pagans' injunction she So that no pagan knew it Ever she prayed might be gracious to him hands of the pagans companions Great; beauty wanted to kill him Or flay him alive If it were not for slain one emir bold you; eager seen quite tall grow bigger seven If; were to go away alive companions befall (happen) might; slay Therefore; must go; boat; (see note) companions ship; hurry bottom [of the sea] drown in Nor shall [we] regret it or pay for shore; (see note) (see note) command been woeful But; then; (see note) (see note) rue (regret bitterly) drove were afraid They expected for certain their life to lose saw; shore going about "Friends," said; young news hear; birds Let us be happy [to be] alive Our ship; shore Off; they hasten foot to ground (see note) sea's edge have you to drink Greet; family; say to; pagan enemy; (see note) sound; well here they; experience blow; (see note) went their way hills King Alymar give much spoke soft Whence (from where); young ones have come thirteen very bold very; group of companions never land of the west Tell; seek For; befall intelligence are from family so very did arrive deprived; life tore apart enough So help me God galley On; sport [One] day; another Without; rudder Our; drift edge Now; slay Our; hands die truly; villain Tell sport As soon as called Come out; boat you prosper bear; name; (see note) hill; (see note) loudly shall sound [All] about each and every not abandon you homewards with; foundling; (see note) companions called steward now teach occupation hunting; hawking (see note) fingernails Before; carve [meat]; (see note) skills knew about companions; teach; (see note) take charge of Athelbrus; teach in his heart; understood court; out everywhere else Rymenhild loved him the most foremost in her thoughts She she nearly went crazy; (see note) dinner table (see note) place she could not speak Her sorrow nor her pain end decided then She; her message into Athelbrus' presence private chamber appear downcast message sick immediately was not a bit well pained in his heart did not know Seemed very strange to him bower mind It was for no good (see note) immediately bower in private know about her desire Horn's likeness deceive fear greatly advise badly went grew very passionate; (see note) thought had (see note) revealed passion In; two embrace said swear fidelity right here to be a spouse to have as lord in her ear As quietly as possible finish alike (see note) (see note) lives Even if; earth Or wherever from here would not beguile him nor you changed foully; denounced From here; wicked thief will you be; dear Get out; bower much bad luck overtake you gallows hang ugly he (i.e., Athulf) die right away immediately My own lady Listen to me for a moment Hear; hesitated Nowhere; equal Placed; care If Greatly; fear take pleasure; (see note) beyond doubt angry forgive; anger Whoever may care as much as she could keep quiet She made herself [It was] well with her; time she said; soon noontime dressed as a squire; (see note) woods; sport No one; will betray stay close to evening desire (see note) turned away from her then Wine; pour gracious bedchamber; go meal quietly very them keep (i.e., be quiet) you will not regret it took to heart went beautiful; (see note) sweetly greeted her appearance glow needed sit next to you our Sent Tell (see note) fur mantle; (see note) She showed him neck kissed as much as she liked; (see note) doubtless for your wife pity pledge; oath (fidelity) thought to himself guide Wherever born; too low a serf; (see note) have become a foundling Nor would it be natural As a spouse; united would be; (see note) Then; be displeased sigh to bend (raise) Down; fell unconscious in much grief kiss with certainty Beloved control become a knight dub me serf-like status turned grow instruction swoon Before a week is up Take along with it (see note) see to it; keep the agreement Say I ask him (see note) fall down (humble himself) immediately silver He will be well-rewarded grant success Make known your business nearly evening gave him what quickly How; fared what he wanted promised; reward as soon as possible quickly listen The best of all tales crown Tomorrow; town feast It is fitting to have a good time It is not a lost cause young man bear Good; turn out to be good idea pleases seems (see note) become; favorite companions them all thought to himself before With; companions Some of them; evil spurs; (see note) white horse was no; like him light blow ordered; good on his knees bold favor; (see note) Now as our responded quickly what got down (see note) Merry entertainments But she thought seven years sent for chamber alone companion Horn's coming seemed good to her before you spoke about before i.e., a man of your word said Release; pain When the time is right With spear; (see note) Before; begin; woo are one; sprung up our mastery manner lover Before For you; greater haste; (see note) I will do knightly deeds With return alive she said believe; love (see note) Good; adornment; (see note) Engraved under the sun can tell of power blows be afraid battle; go crazy If; on it [sworn] brother success kiss He took leave of her went horse As black as horse; armor; (see note) court; resounded buck merrily a ship anchored heathen hounds; (see note) they Or One heathen bold wish to conquer [the inhabitants] hit blood [grew] hot each and every blow; (see note) head; off rush Surround killed; quickly One count subdue leader's head; (see note) deprived of On top on the point went with you As I rode for sport row of ships With water surrounded; (see note) kin native torment attack would not Or gave them deadly wounds head principal trouble rewarded In the morning when; (see note) (see note) worst child of woman; (see note) went; chamber; (see note) seek; (see note) (see note) As if; out of her mind i.e., at a sunny window tears; covered Beloved, grant me your favor I do not weep for nothing sea stay intact fish; immediately burst know; lose (see note) Interpret; dream deceive displease own keep Above any other creature oath; pledge sadness betrothal bitterly tears stop my love hear dream; turn [favorably] Or someone will harm us Certainly; torment cause us pain will be seen the Mersey; (see note) chamber spoke these lies destroy you (see note) to kill you lies; chamber the bedcovers force him out Before; harm angry; sorrowful embrace bosom out; foul thief Nor will you ever be dear to me Get out; bower bad luck Unless you flee at once hit injury armor; laid out chain mail tunic; (see note) As if he; battle grab He wasted no time went; immediately betrothed; (see note) dear love dream tore have a good day No longer; stay unknown find live seven; (see note) If I do not return or send a message wait take kiss kissed; a while swooned; (see note) longer stay companion neck Take care of look after mount harbor; went good; rented western eyes he saw all of that seabreeze sustained him; (see note) drove; Ireland disembarked found two one called himself Harold ask wanted I am called Come out; boat From far away in the west seek my fortune nearer remain a while As surely as I must die in my life they on their knees made them kneel do [business] with him Entrust; defend harm; (see note) yet quickly go wooing; (see note) [Whatever] intention; marry for the sake of; beauty prosper (see note) giant very quickly non-Christian lands rhyme listen to; message There are pagans [knights] There are; sand One; (see note) Against If your three slay our [one] our one; three ours one second they are What advice shall we take believe table One Against; heathen hound attack companions easily the next morning sorrow equipped himself armored corselet put on laced (see note) together will go six a. m.; (see note) They rode out found giant very bold companions beside him Their same battle wage enough blows; (see note) unconscious withhold they; nearly slain now For a moment if you desire They never said they had From a knight blows Except from; (see note) Who was very family shudder Before out of the land killed his father Against through sorely; hurt pagans; fierce run in great haste killed; hounds; (see note) Before they their; found They paid dearly for his father's death harmed; not a one; (see note) Except for; two die weep let [fall] Men; funeral bier buried them right away; (see note) tell advise Slain are great value kingdom; rule receive in the upper room (see note) accept offer realm; govern Better before you die turn Before past give; reward desire Nor shall you refuse me lived neither sent a message nor returned great sorrow marry Agreed very dared Prevent [it] she dictated did Who loved Horn not a little messenger every Where; men one; went woods; shoot servant; met; (see note) Dear friend do you seek the west On behalf of is going crazy (i.e., Furness in the northwest of England); (see note) far He is not to be found anywhere Alas the hour time is deceived heard; ears bitter tears good fortune upon you her; return not be sad be there forthwith Sunday; (see note) glad hurried [back] again quickly sea; toss wall was drowned regret did cast him dead; (see note) wall door pin (bolt) house where she eyes anything; could see drowned news Then he [Thurston] was made aware [Horn's] own [Horn told him] of; kin how; killed The one who killed Repay me may you not fail me bring about the marriage of i.e., into a good family for a husband friend Good; among most faithful quietly writs Ireland agile Irish enough got on board got underway good galley little while drive lower sail anchor dropped Before another Or spread ship went caused to wait At the edge of the woods went As if; out of; (see note) pilgrim greeted him news bridal feast avoid wept; eyes wedded; gold [ring] one Even if Within at the gate they; let commanded To a chamber; men led her I snuck away sorrow; endure As Christ commands me exchange clothing; (see note) here give; cloak So that; regret lay down back [Horn's] were not displeasing to him staff; bag twisted foul appearance dirtied; neck ugly As; never before like that gatekeeper (porter) said no ordered; quietly succeed gate wicket kicked bastard; pay for it bridge cracked afterwards low beggars' row; (see note) around him dirty nose saw out of her mind deeply her; stop corner Nor did he see As far as he could tell tower look For If; ship saw nowhere now; slow [in coming] entrusted look after [her] now or longer; her sorrow off Wine; pour meal; hall drinking horn; in her hand; (see note) As was the law (custom) beer had no share ground tied up [in emotion] Queen; gracious Towards me turn; (see note) give; first very thirsty Her vessel she laid down filled; from a brown bowl bowl; gallon believed; glutton (see note) believe bold to his companion desire (see note) You think But; fisherman; (see note) Very far: east; (see note) lies here at hand shore lain seven If will not from; (see note) Far; traveled heart; grow cold understood did not recognize him But strange she began to demanded; (see note) filled truth saw in the woods awhile threw; bottom [of the vessel] look at; (see note) What; drink went; bower There engraved from her Greatly she feared dead; (see note) Then pilgrim faithful took here Giles; (see note) gone far beyond the west seek; fortune try took to the water died requested young kissed give; soul right away burst you have no more grieved fell Where; hid slay the hateful king herself same In case; might not But quickly caught her up dirt; neck own Cannot you recognize me kiss each other certainly will go down are Armed; [their] clothing angry guests strike out beggar's cloak went; chamber [watch]tower happy quickly forest glade Because of the news ran as quickly As indeed very much company set them on their way gates Armed; heavily From foot Except for; companions made them all sorry They forfeited their lives vengeance On oaths of allegiance betray Even if; death wedding; carry out went with his [men] bridal [feast]; (see note) joy [the king's] chair ordered; to hear listen to among blame [towards you] raised up betrayed made me an outlaw leave lie deny stay; for a while While I find my way obtain avenge my father town crown Lie went to the ship Irish men he wanted no other ship; make its way loudly Within went immediately went skilled Upon; was drawn; (see note) cross; faith seize guard here I think; (see note) belong to our Lord Unless; will hack to pieces he was terrified against; (see note) Pagans very evil once Then came; island made would Against [Horn] they made me a guard protect Who lives in the west ; (see note) best of knights They slew; their many hundreds a marvel to here kill them They killed courteous They sent Horn out of the land My own; dear son sound without wound like a guardian to him them both Most; times companion right away together fared It has been a long time since I saw you Yet lives she might [have] speech Blessed hounds our quickly; flay knew it away from the stern; (see note) banner killed and fought early morning kind None remained in the end; (see note) ordered built be rung mother's rock Grain; be carried made paid for it dearly arrogant caused him pain [To] young; gave [bribes] give allegiance Stone; had transported to succeed had built He filled the moat around the castle with sea water none might land Except for birds drew back enough intended harm To woo her intensely he began dared; refuse anxiety She began to sweat heavily to dream mate Onto the ship [she]; taken lurch was about to drown Wanted [to swim] pushed her back sword's hilt woke from sleep Like a man in a hurry comrade ship; must go betrayed distress there companions beside him before; began Immediately; went wed led; at night new fortress festivities Before knew Before; rose ship; tower chamber realizes was alive it was so new [to them] found sitting Who; cousin time to wait for come deceived; twice had built device guide lose knew; cunning knew of bring out; (see note) bold went; beach merry harping hear asked who they were fiddlers They let play a song made a lament fell swooning laughed hit went; table edge crown (head) tumbled; (see note) in order struck down killed tear apart meekness vassals tribute shore sail They arrived; (see note) Where; lord favor Because of knight Horn's advice sail away Ireland sorrow; (see note) caused Athulf the knight to; (see note) family grieve for Now; they Here ugly among us Horn's song give |