King Horn

Alle beon he blithe That to my song lythe! A sang ich schal you singe Of Murry the Kinge. line5King he was biweste So longe so hit laste. Godhild het his quen; Faire ne mighte non ben. He hadde a sone that het Horn; line10Fairer 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; line15He 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 line20Nas non his iliche. Twelf feren he hadde That he alle with him ladde, Alle riche mannes sones, And alle hi were faire gomes, line25With him for to pleie, And mest he luvede tweie; That on him het Hathulf child, And that other Fikenild. Athulf was the beste, line30And Fikenylde the werste. Hit was upon a someres day, Also ich you telle may, Murri, the gode King, Rod on his pleing line35Bi the se side, Ase he was woned ride. With him riden bote two — Al to fewe ware tho! He fond bi the stronde, line40Arived on his londe, Schipes fiftene With Sarazins kene He axede what hi soghte Other to londe broghte. line45A 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. line50Ne 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. line55Swerd hi gunne gripe And togadere smite. Hy smyten under schelde That sume hit yfelde. The king hadde al to fewe line60Togenes so fele schrewe; So wele mighten ythe Bringe hem thre to dithe. The pains come to londe And neme hit in here honde line65That folc hi gunne quelle, And churchen for to felle. Ther ne moste libbe The fremde ne the sibbe. Bute hi here laye asoke, line70And to here toke. Of alle wymmanne Wurst was Godhild thanne. For Murri heo weop sore And for Horn yute more. line75He wente ut of halle Fram hire maidenes alle Under a roche of stone Ther heo livede alone. Ther heo servede Gode line80Aghenes 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. line85Horn was in paynes honde With his feren of the londe. Muchel was his fairhede, For Jhesu Crist him makede. Payns him wolde slen, line90Other al quic flen, Yef his fairnesse nere: The children alle aslaye were. Thanne spak on admirad — Of wordes he was bald, — line95“Horn, thu art well kene, And that is wel isene. Thu art gret and strong, Fair and evene long; Thu schalt waxe more line100Bi fulle seve yere. Yef thu mote to live go And thine feren also, Yef hit so bi falle, Ye scholde slen us alle: line105Tharvore thu most to stere, Thu and thine ifere; To schupe schulle ye funde, And sinke to the grunde. The se you schal adrenche, line110Ne schal hit us noght ofthinche. For if thu were alive, With swerd other with knive, We scholden alle deie, And thi fader deth abeie.” line115The children hi broghte to stronde, Wringinde here honde, Into schupes borde At the furste worde. Ofte hadde Horn beo wo, line120Ac 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. line125Hi wenden towisse Of here lif to misse, Al the day and al the night Til hit sprang dailight, Til Horn sagh on the stronde line130Men gon in the londe. “Feren,” quath he, “yonge, Ich telle you tithinge: Ich here foyeles singe And that gras him springe. line135Blithe beo we on lyve; Ure schup is on ryve.” Of schup hi gunne funde, And setten fout to grunde. Bi the se side line140Hi leten that schup ride. Thanne spak him child Horn, In Suddene he was iborn: “Schup bi the se flode, Daies have thu gode. line145Bi the se brinke, No water the nadrinke. Yef thu cume to Suddene, Gret thu wel of myne kenne, Gret thu wel my moder, line150Godhild, Quen the gode, And seie the paene king, Jesu Cristes withering, That ich am hol and fer On this lond arived her; line155And 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, line160Crist yeven him His blessing King of Westernesse Crist yive him muchel blisse! He him spac to Horn child Wordes that were mild: line165“Whannes beo ye, faire gumes, That her to londe beoth icume, Alle throttene, Of bodie swithe kene? Bi God that me makede, line170A swich fair verade Ne saugh ich in none stunde, Bi westene londe: Seie me wat ye seche.” Horn spak here speche, line175He spak for hem alle, Vor so hit moste bivalle: He was the faireste And of wit the beste. “We beoth of Suddenne, line180Icome of gode kenne, Of Cristene blode, And kynges swthe gode. Payns ther gunne arive And duden hem of lyve. line185Hi sloghen and todroghe Cristene men inoghe. So Crist me mote rede, Us hi dude lede Into a galeie, line190With the se to pleie, Dai hit is igon and other, Withute sail and rother: Ure schip bigan to swymme To this londes brymme. line195Nu 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 line200Iwis 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: line205“Horn ich am ihote, Icomen ut of the bote, Fram the se side. Kyng, wel mote thee tide.” Thanne hym spak the gode king, line210“Well bruc thu thin evening. Horn, thu go wel schulle Bi dales and bi hulle; Horn, thu lude sune, Bi dales and bi dune; line215So schal thi name springe Fram kynge to kynge, And thi fairnesse Abute Westernesse, The strengthe of thine honde line220Into evrech londe. Horn, thu art so swete, Ne may ich the forlete.” Hom rod Aylmar the Kyng And Horn mid him, his fundling, line225And alle his ifere, That were him so dere. The kyng com into halle Among his knightes alle; Forth he clupede Athelbrus, line230That was stiward of his hus. “Stiward, tak nu here My fundlyng for to lere Of thine mestere, Of wude and of rivere, line235And tech him to harpe With his nayles scharpe, Bivore me to kerve, And of the cupe serve. Thu tech him of alle the liste line240That thu evre of wiste, And his feiren thou wise In to othere servise. Horn thu undervonge And tech him of harpe and songe.” line245Ailbrus gan lere Horn and his yfere. Horn in herte laghte Al that he him taghte. In the curt and ute, line250And elles al abute Luvede men Horn child, And mest him luvede Rymenhild, The kynges owene doghter. He was mest in thoghte; line255Heo 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 line260Among the knightes alle, Ne nowhar in non othere stede. Of folk heo hadde drede: Bi daie ne bi nighte With him speke ne mighte. line265Hire soreghe ne hire pine Ne mighte nevre fine. In heorte heo hadde wo, And thus hire bithoghte tho: Heo sende hire sonde line270Athelbrus to honde, That he come hire to, And also scholde Horn do, Al in to bure, For heo gan to lure; line275And the sonde seide That sik lai that maide, And bad him come swithe For heo nas nothing blithe. The stward was in herte wo, line280For he nuste what to do. Wat Rymenhild hure thoghte Gret wunder him thughte, Abute Horn the yonge To bure for to bringe. line285He thoghte upon his mode Hit nas for none gode: He tok him another, Athulf, Hornes brother. “Athulf,” he sede, “right anon line290Thu schalt with me to bure gon To speke with Rymenhild stille And witen hure wille. In Hornes ilike Thu schalt hure biswike: line295Sore ich me ofdrede Heo wolde Horn misrede.” Athelbrus gan Athulf lede, And into bure with him yede: Anon upon Athulf child line300Rymenhild gan wexe wild: Heo wende that Horn hit were That heo havede there: Heo sette him on bedde; With Athulf child he wedde; line305On hire armes tweie Athulf heo gan leie. “Horn,” quath heo, “wel longe Ich habbe thee luved stronge. Thu schalt thi trewthe plighte line310On myn hond her righte, Me to spuse holde, And ich thee lord to wolde.” Athulf sede on hire ire So stille so hit were, line315“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 line320Thane 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.” line325Rymenhild hire biwente, And Athelbrus fule heo schente. “Hennes thu go, thu fule theof, Ne wurstu me nevre more leof; Went ut of my bur, line330With muchel mesaventur. Schame mote thu fonge And on highe rode anhonge. Ne spek ich noght with Horn: Nis he noght so unorn; line335Horn is fairer thane beo he: With muchel schame mote thu deie.” Athelbrus in a stunde Fel anon to grunde. “Lefdi min oghe, line340Lithe me a litel throghe! Lust whi ich wonde Bringe thee Horn to honde. For Horn is fair and riche, Nis no whar his iliche. line345Aylmar, the gode Kyng, Dude him on mi lokyng. Yef Horn were her abute, Sore I me dute With him ye wolden pleie line350Bitwex you selve tweie. Thanne scholde withuten othe The kyng maken us wrothe. Rymenhild, foryef me thi tene, Lefdi, my quene, line355And Horn ich schal thee fecche, Wham so hit recche.” Rymenhild, yef he cuthe, Gan lynne with hire muthe. Heo makede hire wel blithe; line360Wel was hire that sithe. “Go nu,” quath heo, “sone, And send him after none, On a squieres wise. Whane the kyng arise line365To 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; line370After ne recche ich what me telle.” Aylbrus wende hire fro; Horn in halle fond he tho Bifore the kyng on benche, Wyn for to schenche. line375“Horn,” quath he, “so hende, To bure nu thu wende, After mete stille, With Rymenhild to dwelle; Wordes swthe bolde, line380In herte thu hem holde. Horn, beo me wel trewe; Ne schal hit thee nevre rewe.” Horn in herte leide Al that he him seide; line385He yeode in wel righte To Rymenhild the brighte. On knes he him sette, And sweteliche hure grette. Of his feire sighte line390Al the bur gan lighte. He spac faire speche — Ne dorte him noman teche. “Wel thu sitte and softe, Rymenhild the brighte, line395With thine maidenes sixe That the sitteth nixte. Kinges stward ure Sende me in to bure; With thee speke ich scholde. line400Seie me what thu woldest: Seie, and ich schal here What thi wille were.” Rymenhild up gan stonde And tok him bi the honde: line405Heo 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, line410So 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. line415Horn tho him bithoghte What he speke mighte. “Crist,” quath he, “thee wisse, And yive thee hevene blisse Of thine husebonde, line420Wher he beo in londe. Ich am ibore to lowe Such wimman to knowe. Ich am icome of thralle And fundling bifalle. line425Ne 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 line430And 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. line435He gan hire for to kesse Wel ofte mid ywisse. “Lemman,” he sede, “dere, Thin herte nu thu stere. Help me to knighte line440Bi al thine mighte, To my lord the king That he me yive dubbing: Thanne is mi thralhod I went in to knighthod line445And I schal wexe more, And do, lemman, thi lore.” Rymenhild, that swete thing, Wakede of hire swoghning. “Horn,” quath heo, “wel sone line450That schal beon idone. Thu schalt beo dubbed knight Are come seve night. Have her this cuppe And this ryng ther uppe line455To Aylbrus the stuard, And se he holde foreward. Seie ich him biseche, With loveliche speche, That he adun falle line460Bifore the king in halle, And bidde the king arighte Dubbe thee to knighte. With selver and with golde Hit wurth him wel iyolde. line465Crist him lene spede Thin erende to bede.” Horn tok his leve, For hit was negh eve. Athelbrus he soghte line470And yaf him that he broghte, And tolde him ful yare Hu he hadde ifare, And sede him his nede, And bihet him his mede. line475Athelbrus also swithe Wente to halle blive. “Kyng,” he sede, “thu leste A tale mid the beste. Thu schalt bere crune line480Tomoreghe in this tune; Tomoreghe is thi feste: Ther bihoveth geste. Hit nere noght for loren For to knighti child Horn, line485Thine armes for to welde: God knight he schal yelde.” The king sede sone, “That is wel idone. Horn me wel iquemeth; line490God knight him bisemeth. He schal have mi dubbing And after wurth mi derling. And alle his feren twelf He schal knighten himself: line495Alle he schal hem knighte Bifore me this nighte.” Til the light of day sprang Ailmar him thughte lang. The day bigan to springe; line500Horn com bivore the kinge, Mid his twelf yfere, Sume hi were luthere. Horn he dubbede to knighte With swerd and spures brighte. line505He 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 line510Bivore the King Aylmar. “King,” he sede, “so kene Grante me a bene: Nu is knight Sire Horn That in Suddene was iboren; line515Lord 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 line520For that is ure righte.” Aylmar sede sone ywis, “Do nu that thi wille is.” Horn adun lighte And makede hem alle knightes. line525Murie was the feste Al of faire gestes: Ac Rymenhild nas noght ther, And that hire thughte seve yer. After Horn heo sente, line530And he to bure wente. Nolde he noght go one; Athulf was his mone. Rymenhild on flore stod: Hornes come hire thughte god: line535And 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: line540To 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.” line545“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, line550Ar ich thee ginne to woghe. We beth knightes yonge, Of o dai al isprunge; And of ure mestere So is the manere: line555With sume othere knighte Wel for his lemman fighte Or he eni wif take; Forthi me stondeth the more rape. Today, so Crist me blesse, line560Ich 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.” line565“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 line570Igrave “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. line575The 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 line580And thenke upon thi lemman. And Sire Athulf, thi brother, He schal have another. Horn, ich thee biseche With loveliche speche, line585Crist yeve god erndinge Thee aghen to bringe.” The knight hire gan kesse, And heo him to blesse. Leve at hire he nam, line590And 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. line595The 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 line600More than a myle. He fond o schup stonde With hethene honde. He axede what hi soghte Other to londe broghte. line605An hund him gan bihelde That spac wordes belde: “This lond we wullegh winne And sle that ther is inne.” Horn gan his swerd gripe line610And on his arme wype. The Sarazins he smatte That his blod hatte; At evreche dunte The heved of wente; line615Tho gunne the hundes gone Abute Horn a lone: He lokede on the ringe, And thoghte on Rimenilde; He slogh ther on haste line620On hundred bi the laste, Ne mighte noman telle That folc that he gan quelle. Of alle that were alive, Ne mighte ther non thrive. line625Horn tok the maisteres heved, That he hadde him bireved And sette hit on his swerde, Anoven at than orde. He verde hom into halle, line630Among the knightes alle. “Kyng,” he sede, “wel thu sitte, And alle thine knightes mitte. Today, after mi dubbing, So I rod on my pleing line635I fond o schup rowe Mid watere al byflowe Al with Sarazines kyn, And none londisse men To dai for to pine line640Thee and alle thine. Hi gonne me assaille: Mi swerd me nolde faille: I smot hem alle to grunde, Other yaf hem dithes wunde. line645That 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, line650The king him rod an huntinge. At hom lefte Fikenhild, That was the wurste moder child. Horn ferde into bure To sen aventure. line655He saw Rymenild sitte Also heo were of witte. Heo sat on the sunne With tieres al birunne. Horn sede, “Lef, thin ore! line660Wi 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; line665A 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 line670Turne thine swevene. Ne schal I thee biswike, Ne do that thee mislike. I schal me make thin owe To holden and to knowe line675For everech othere wighte, And tharto mi treuthe I thee plighte.” Muchel was the ruthe That was at thare truthe, For Rymenhild weop ille, line680And Horn let the tires stille. “Lemman,” quath he, “dere, Thu schalt more ihere. Thi sweven schal wende Other sum man schal us schende. line685The fiss that brak the lyne, Ywis he doth us pine. That schal don us tene, And wurth wel sone isene.” Aylmar rod bi Sture, line690And Horn lai in bure. Fykenhild hadde envye And sede thes folye: “Aylmar, ich thee warne Horn thee wule berne: line695Ich herde whar he sede, And his swerd forth leide, To bringe thee of lyve, And take Rymenhild to wyve. He lith in bure line700Under coverture By Rymenhild thi doghter, And so he doth wel ofte. And thider thu go al right, Ther thu him finde might. line705Thu do him ut of londe, Other he doth thee schonde!” Aylmar aghen gan turne Wel modi and wel murne. He fond Horn in arme line710On Rymenhilde barme. “Awey ut,” he sede, “fule theof, Ne wurstu me nevremore leof! Wend ut of my bure With muchel messaventure. line715Wel sone bute thu flitte, With swerde ich thee anhitte. Wend ut of my londe, Other thu schalt have schonde.” Horn sadelede his stede line720And 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. line725He yede forth blive To Rymenhild his wyve. He sede, “Lemman derling, Nu havestu thi swevening. The fiss that thi net rente, line730Fram thee he me sente. Rymenhild, have wel godne day: No leng abiden I ne may. In to uncuthe londe, Wel more for to fonde; line735I schal wune there Fulle seve yere. At seve yeres ende, Yef I ne come ne sende, Tak thee husebonde; line740For 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. line745Horn tok his leve: Ne mighte he no leng bileve; He tok Athulf, his fere, Al abute the swere, And sede, “Knight so trewe, line750Kep wel mi luve newe. Thu nevre me ne forsoke: Rymenhild thu kep and loke.” His stede he gan bistride, And forth he gan ride: line755To the havene he ferde, And a god schup he hurede, That him scholde londe In westene londe. Athulf weop with ighe line760And al that him isighe. The whyght him gan stonde, And drof til Hirelonde. To londe he him sette And fot on stirop sette. line765He fond bi the weie Kynges sones tweie; That on him het Harild, And that other Berild. Berild gan him preie line770That he scholde him seie What his name were And what he wolde there. “Cutberd,” he sede, “ich hote, Icomen ut of the bote, line775Wel feor fram biweste To seche mine beste.” Berild gan him nier ride And tok him by the bridel: “Wel beo thu, knight, ifounde; line780With me thu lef a stunde. Also mote I sterve, The king thu schalt serve. Ne sagh I nevre my lyve So fair knight aryve.” line785Cutberd 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: line790“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.” line795Thanne sede the king so dere, “Welcome beo thu here. Go nu, Berild, swithe, And make him ful blithe. And whan thu farst to woghe, line800Tak him thine glove: Iment thu havest to wyve, Awai he schal thee dryve; For Cutberdes fairhede Ne schal thee nevre wel spede.” line805Hit was at Cristemasse, Neither more ne lasse; Ther cam in at none A geaunt swthe sone, Iarmed fram paynyme line810And seide thes ryme: “Site stille, Sire Kyng, And herkne this tything: Her buth paens arived; Wel mo thane five line815Her beoth on the sonde, King, upon thy londe; On of hem wile fighte Aghen thre knightes. Yef other thre slen ure, line820Al 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.” line825Thanne sede the Kyng Thurston, “Cutberd schal beo that on; Berild schal beo that other, The thridde Alrid his brother; For hi beoth the strengeste line830And of armes the beste. Bute what schal us to rede? Ich wene we beth alle dede.” Cutberd sat at borde And sede thes wordes: line835“Sire King, hit nis no righte On with thre to fighte: Aghen one hunde, Thre Cristen men to fonde. Sire, I schal alone, line840Withute more ymone, With mi swerd wel ethe Bringe hem thre to dethe.” The king aros amoreghe, That hadde muchel sorghe; line845And 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 line850At his up risinge. “King,” he sede, “cum to felde, For to bihelde Hu we fighte schulle, And togare go wulle.” line855Right at prime tide Hi gunnen ut ride And funden on a grene A geaunt swthe kene, His feren him biside line860Hore deth to abide. The ilke bataille Cutberd gan asaille: He yaf dentes inoghe; The knightes felle iswoghe. line865His 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 line870Of knighte dentes so harde, Bote of the King Murry, That wes swithe sturdy. He was of Hornes kunne, Iborn in Suddene. line875Horn him gan to agrise, And his blod arise. Bivo him sagh he stonde That driven him of lond And that his fader slogh. line880To 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. line885The 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 line890Er 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, line895Bute his sones tweie Bifore him he sagh deie. The king bigan to grete And teres for to lete. Me leiden hem in bare line900And 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. line905Aslaghen beth mine heirs, And thu art knight of muchel pris, And of grete strengthe, And fair o bodie lengthe. Mi rengne thu schalt welde, line910And to spuse helde Reynild, mi doghter, That sitteth on the lofte.” “O Sire King, with wronge Scholte ich hit underfonge, line915Thi 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 line920Or seve yeres ende. Whanne hit is wente, Sire King, yef me mi rente. Whanne I thi doghter yerne, Ne shaltu me hire werne.” line925Cutberd wonede there Fulle seve yere That to Rymenild he ne sente Ne him self ne wente. Rymenild was in Westernesse line930With wel muchel sorinesse. A king ther gan arive That wolde hire have to wyve; Aton he was with the king Of that ilke wedding. line935The daies were schorte, That Rimenhild ne dorste Leten in none wise. A writ he dude devise; Athulf hit dude write, line940That Horn ne luvede noght lite. Heo sende hire sonde To evereche londe To seche Horn the knight Ther me him finde mighte. line945Horn noght therof ne herde Til o day that he ferde To wude for to schete. A knave he gan imete. Horn seden, “Leve fere, line950What sechestu here?” “Knight, if beo thi wille, I mai thee sone telle. I seche fram biweste Horn of Westernesse line955For a maiden Rymenhild, That for him gan wexe wild. A king hire wile wedde And bringe to his bedde, King Modi of Reynes, line960On of Hornes enemis. Ich habbe walke wide, Bi the se side; Nis he nowar ifunde. Walawai the stunde! line965Wailaway the while! Nu wurth Rymenild bigiled.” Horn iherde with his ires, And spak with bidere tires: “Knave, wel thee bitide! line970Horn stondeth thee biside. Aghen to hure thu turne And seie that heo nu murne, For I schal beo ther bitime, A Soneday by prime.” line975The knave was wel blithe And highede aghen blive. The se bigan to throghe Under hire woghe. The knave there gan adrinke: line980Rymenhild hit mighte ofthinke. The see him con ded throwe Under hire chambre wowe. Rymenhild undude the durepin Of the hus ther heo was in, line985To 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. line990Hire fingres heo gan wringe. Horn cam to Thurston the King And tolde him this tithing. Tho he was iknowe That Rimenhild was his oghe; line995Of his gode kenne The King of Suddenne, And hu he slogh in felde That his fader quelde, And seide, “King the wise, line1000Yeld me mi servise. Rymenhild help me winne, That thu noght ne linne: And I schal do to spuse Thi doghter wel to huse: line1005Heo schal to spuse have Athulf, mi gode felaghe, God knight mid the beste And the treweste.” The king sede so stille, line1010“Horn, have nu thi wille.” He dude writes sende Into Yrlonde After knightes lighte, Irisse men to fighte. line1015To Horn come inoghe That to schupe droghe. Horn dude him in the weie On a god galeie. The wind him gan to blowe line1020In a litel throghe. The se bigan to posse Right in to Westernesse. Hi strike seil and maste And ankere gunne caste, line1025Or eny day was sprunge Other belle irunge. The word bigan to springe Of Rymenhilde weddinge. Horn was in the watere, line1030Ne mighte he come no latere. He let his schup stonde, And yede to londe. His folk he dude abide Under wude side. line1035Horn him yede alone Also he sprunge of stone. A palmere he thar mette And faire hine grette: “Palmere, thu schalt me telle line1040Al of thine spelle.” He sede upon his tale, “I come fram o brudale; Ich was at o wedding Of a maide Rymenhild: line1045Ne mighte heo adrighe That heo ne weop with ighe. Heo sede that heo nolde Ben ispused with golde. Heo hadde on husbonde line1050Thegh he were ut of londe. And in strong halle, Bithinne castel walle, Ther I was atte yate, Nolde hi me in late. line1055Modi ihote hadde To bure that me hire ladde: Away I gan glide: That deol I nolde abide. The bride wepeth sore, line1060And that is muche deole.” Quath Horn, “So Crist me rede, We schulle chaungi wede. Have her clothes myne And tak me thi sclavyne, line1065Today 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: line1070That nere him noght lothe. Horn tok burdon and scrippe And wrong his lippe. He makede him a ful chere, And al bicolmede his swere. line1075He makede him unbicomelich Hes he nas nevremore ilich. He com to the gateward, That him answerede hard: Horn bad undo softe line1080Mani tyme and ofte; Ne mighte he awynne That he come therinne. Horn gan to the yate turne And that wiket unspurne. line1085The 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 line1090In beggeres rowe; He lokede him abute With his colmie snute; He segh Rymenhild sitte Ase heo were of witte, line1095Sore wepinge and yerne; Ne mighte hure no man wurne. He lokede in eche halke; Ne segh he nowhar walke Athulf his felawe, line1100That he cuthe knowe. Athulf was in the ture, Abute for to pure After his comynge, Yef schup him wolde bringe. line1105He segh the se flowe And Horn nowar rowe. He sede upon his songe: “Horn, nu thu ert wel longe. Rymenhild thu me toke line1110That I scholde loke; Ich habbe ikept hure evre; Com nu other nevre: I ne may no leng hure kepe. For soreghe nu I wepe.” line1115Rymenhild ros of benche, Wyn for to schenche, After mete in sale, Bothe wyn and ale. On horn heo bar anhonde, line1120So laghe was in londe. Knightes and squier Alle dronken of the ber, Bute Horn alone Nadde therof no mone. line1125Horn sat upon the grunde; Him thughte he was ibunde. He sede, “Quen so hende, To meward thu wende; Thu yef us with the furste; line1130The 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. line1135Heo 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 line1140And 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, line1145Wel feor icome by este For fissen at thi feste. Mi net lith her bi honde, Bi a wel fair stronde. Hit hath ileie there line1150Fulle seve yere. Ich am icome to loke Ef eni fiss hit toke. Ich am icome to fisse: Drynke null I of dyssh: line1155Drink to Horn of horne. Feor ich am jorne.” Rymenhild him gan bihelde; Hire heorte bigan to chelde. Ne knew heo noght his fissing, line1160Ne 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. line1165Heo sede, “Drink thi fulle, And suthe thu me telle If thu evre isighe Horn under wude lighe.” Horn dronk of horn a stunde line1170And threu the ring to grunde. He seyde, “Quen, nou seche Qwat is in thy drenche.” The Quen yede to bure With hire maidenes foure. line1175Tho fond heo what heo wolde, A ring igraven of golde That Horn of hure hadde; Sore hure dradde That Horn isterve were, line1180For the ring was there. Tho sente heo a damesele After the palmere; “Palmere,” quath heo, “trewe, The ring that thu threwe, line1185Thu 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 line1190To seche my beste. I fond Horn child stonde To schupeward in londe. He sede he wolde agesse To arive in Westernesse. line1195The 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 line1200To Rymenhild the yonge.’ Ofte he hit custe, God yeve his saule reste!” Rymenhild sede at the furste, “Herte, nu thu berste, line1205For Horn nastu namore, That thee hath pined so sore.” Heo feol on hire bedde, Ther heo knif hudde, To sle with king lothe line1210And hureselve bothe In that ulke nighte, If Horn come ne mighte. To herte knif heo sette, Ac Horn anon hire kepte. line1215He 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; line1220In armes thu me cusse.” Hi custe hem mid ywisse And makeden muche blisse. “Rymenhild,” he sede, “I wende Adun to the wudes ende: line1225Ther beth myne knightes Redi to fighte; Iarmed under clothe, Hi schulle make wrothe The king and his geste line1230That come to the feste. Today I schal hem teche And sore hem areche.” Horn sprong ut of halle And let his sclavin falle. line1235The 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 line1240And with him knightes inoghe.” Athulf bigan to springe For the tithinge. After Horn he arnde anon, Also that hors mighte gon. line1245He him overtok ywis; Hi makede swithe muchel blis. Horn tok his preie And dude him in the weie. He com in wel sone: line1250The yates were undone. Iarmed ful thikke Fram fote to the nekke, Alle that were therin Bithute his twelf ferin line1255And the King Aylmare, He dude hem alle to kare, That at the feste were; Here lif hi lete there. Horn ne dude no wunder line1260Of Fikenhildes false tunge. Hi sworen othes holde, That nevre ne scholde Horn nevre bitraie, Thegh he at dithe laie. line1265Hi runge the belle The wedlak for to felle; Horn him yede with his To the kinges palais, Ther was bridale swete, line1270For riche men ther ete. Telle ne mighte tunge That gle that ther was sunge. Horn sat on chaere, And bad hem alle ihere. line1275“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, line1280And knighthod have proved To thee, king, men seide That I thee bitraide; Thu makedest me fleme, And thi lond to reme; line1285Thu wendest that I wroghte That I nevre ne thoghte, Bi Rymenhild for to ligge, And that I withsegge. Ne schal ich hit biginne, line1290Til I Suddene winne. Thu kep hure a stunde, The while that I funde In to min heritage, And to mi baronage. line1295That lond I schal ofreche And do mi fader wreche. I schal beo king of tune, And bere kinges crune; Thanne schal Rymenhilde line1300Ligge bi the kinge.” Horn gan to schupe draghe With his Irisse felaghes, Athulf with him, his brother: Nolde he non other. line1305That schup bigan to crude; The wind him bleu lude; Bithinne daies five That schup gan arive Abute middelnighte. line1310Horn him yede wel righte; He tok Athulf bi honde And up he yede to londe. Hi founde under schelde A knight hende in felde. line1315Op the schelde was drawe A crowch of Jhesu Cristes lawe. The knight him aslepe lay Al biside the way. Horn him gan to take line1320And sede, “Knight, awake! Seie what thu kepest? And whi thu her slepest? Me thinkth bi thine crois lighte, That thu longest to ure Drighte. line1325Bute 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 line1330Payns ful ylle. Ich was Cristene a while: Tho icom to this ille Sarazins blake, That dude me forsake. line1335On Crist ich wolde bileve. On him hi makede me reve To kepe this passage Fram Horn that is of age, That wunieth biweste, line1340Knight with the beste; Hi sloghe with here honde The king of this londe, And with him fele hundred, And therof is wunder line1345That he ne cometh to fighte. God sende him the righte, And wind him hider drive To bringe hem of live. He sloghen Kyng Murry, line1350Hornes 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: line1355Ef 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, line1360For joie I scholde deie.” “Knight, beo thanne blithe Mest of alle sithe; Horn and Athulf his fere Bothe hi ben here.” line1365To 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? line1370That 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: line1375Of joie heo miste If heo thee alive wiste.” Horn sede on his rime, “Iblessed beo the time I com to Suddene line1380With mine Irisse menne: We schulle the hundes teche To speken ure speche. Alle we hem schulle sle, And al quic hem fle.” line1385Horn gan his horn to blowe; His folk hit gan iknowe; Hi comen ut of stere, Fram Hornes banere; Hi sloghen and fughten, line1390The night and the ughten. The Sarazins cunde Ne lefde ther non in th’ende. Horn let wurche Chapeles and chirche; line1395He let belles ringe And masses let singe. He com to his moder halle In a roche walle. Corn he let serie, line1400And makede feste merie; Murye lif he wroghte. Rymenhild hit dere boghte. Fikenhild was prut on herte, And that him dude smerte. line1405Yonge he yaf and elde Mid him for to helde. Ston he dude lede, Ther he hopede spede, Strong castel he let sette, line1410Mid see him biflette; Ther ne mighte lighte Bute foghel with flighte. Bute whanne the se withdrowe, Mighte come men ynoghe. line1415Fikenhild gan wende Rymenhild to schende. To woghe he gan hure yerne; The kyng ne dorste him werne. Rymenhild was ful of mode; line1420He wep teres of blode. That night Horn gan swete And hevie for tomete Of Rymenhild, his make, Into schupe was itake. line1425The schup bigan to blenche: His lemman scholde adrenche. Rymenhild with hire honde Wolde up to londe; Fikenhild aghen hire pelte line1430With his swerdes hilte. Horn him wok of slape So a man that hadde rape. “Athulf,” he sede, “felaghe, To schupe we mote draghe. line1435Fikenhild me hath idon under And Rymenhild to do wunder. Crist, for his wundes five, Tonight me thuder drive.” Horn gan to schupe ride, line1440His 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. line1445He ladde hure bi the derke Into his nywe werke. The feste hi bigunne, Er that ros the sunne. Er thane Horn hit wiste, line1450Tofore the sunne upriste, His schup stod under ture At Rymenhilde bure. Rymenhild, litel weneth heo That Horn thanne alive beo. line1455The castel thei ne knewe, For he was so nywe. Horn fond sittinde Arnoldin, That was Athulfes cosin, That ther was in that tide, line1460Horn for tabide. “Horn knight,” he sede, “kinges sone, Wel beo thu to londe icome. Today hath ywedde Fikenhild Thi swete lemman Rymenhild. line1465Ne schal I thee lie: He hath giled thee twie. This tur he let make Al for thine sake. Ne mai ther come inne line1470Noman with none ginne. Horn, nu Crist thee wisse, Of Rymenhild that thu ne misse.” Horn cuthe al the liste That eni man of wiste. line1475Harpe he gan schewe, And tok felawes fewe, Of knightes swithe snelle That schrudde hem at wille. Hi yeden bi the gravel line1480Toward the castel. Hi gunne murie singe And makede here gleowinge. Rymenhild hit gan ihere And axede what hi were. line1485Hi sede hi weren harpurs And sume were gigours. He dude Horn in late Right at halle gate. He sette him on the benche, line1490His harpe for to clenche. He makede Rymenhilde lay, And heo makede walaway. Rymenhild feol yswoghe Ne was ther non that loughe. line1495Hit smot to Hornes herte So bitere that hit smerte. He lokede on the ringe And thoghte on Rymenhilde: He yede up to borde line1500With gode swerdes orde: Fikenhildes crune Ther he fulde adune, And al his men a rowe, Hi dude adun throwe. line1505Whanne hi weren aslaghe Fikenhild hi dude todraghe. Horn makede Arnoldin thare King after King Aylmare Of al Westernesse line1510For his meoknesse. The king and his homage Yeven Arnoldin trewage. Horn tok Rymenhild bi the honde And ladde hure to the stronde, line1515And 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 line1520Ther King Modi was sire. Athelbrus he makede ther king For his gode teching: He yaf alle the knightes ore For Horn knightes lore. line1525Horn gan for to ride; The wind him blew wel wide. He arivede in Yrlonde, Ther he wo fonde, Ther he dude Athulf child line1530Wedden maide Reynild. Horn com to Suddenne Among al his kenne; Rymenhild he makede his quene; So hit mighte wel beon. line1535Al 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 line1540That 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.