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Lordinges, herkneth to me tale! Is merier than the nightingale, That I schel singe; Of a knight ich wile yow roune, Beves a highte of Hamtoune, Withouten lesing. Ich wile yow tellen al togadre Of that knight and of is fadre, Sire Gii. Of Hamtoun he was sire And of al that ilche schire, To wardi. Lordinges, this, of whan I telle, Never man of flesch ne felle Nas so strong. And so he was in ech strive. And ever he levede withouten wive, Al to late and long. Whan he was fallen in to elde, That he ne mighte himself welde, He wolde a wif take; Sone thar after, ich understonde, Him hadde be lever than al this londe Hadde he hire forsake. 1 An elde a wif he tok an honde, The kinges doughter of Scotlonde, So faire and bright. Allas, that he hire ever ches! For hire love his lif a les With mechel unright. This maide ichave of ytold, Faire maide she was and bold And fre yboren; Of Almayne that emperur Hire hadde loved paramur Wel thar beforen. Ofte to hire fader a sente And he him selve theder wente For hire sake; Ofte gernede hire to wive; The king for no thing alive Nolde hire him take. 2 Sithe a yaf hire to sire Gii, A stalword erl and hardi Of Southhamtoun. Man, whan he falleth in to elde. Feble a wexeth and unbelde Thourgh right resoun. So longe thai yede togedres to bedde, A knave child betwene hem thai hedde, Beves a het. Faire child he was and bolde, He nas boute seve winter olde, Whan his fader was ded. The levedi hire misbethoughte And meche aghen the right she wroughte In hire tour: "Me lord is olde and may nought werche, Al dai him is lever at cherche, Than in me bour. 3 Hadde ich itaken a yong knight, That ner nought brused in werre and fight, Also he is, A wolde me loven dai and night, Cleppen and kissen with al is might And make me blis. I nel hit lete for no thinge, That ich nel him to dethe bringe With sum braide!" Anon right that levedi fer To consaile clepede hir masager And to him saide: "Maseger, do me surté, That thow nelt nought discure me To no wight! And yif thow wilt, that it so be, I schel thee yeve gold and fe And make the knight." Thanne answerde the masager - False a was, that pautener, And wel prut - "Dame, boute ich do thee nede, Ich graunte, thow me forbede The londe thourgh out." The levedi thanne was wel fain: "Go," she seide, "in to Almaine Out of me bour! Maseger, be yep and snel, And on min helf thow grete wel That emperur, And bid, in the ferste dai, That cometh in the moneth of May, For love of me, That he be to fighte prest With is ferde in hare forest Beside the se. Me lord ich wile theder sende For his love, for to schende And for to sle; Bid him, that hit be nought beleved, That he ne smite of his heved And sende hit me! And whan he haveth so ydo, Me love he schel underfo, Withouten delai! Thanne seide that masager: "Madame, ich wile sone be ther! Now have gode dai!" Now that masager him goth. That ilche lord him worthe wroth, That him wroughte! To schip that masager him wode. Allas! The wind was al to gode, That him over broughte. Tho he com in to Almayne, Thar a mette with a swain And grette him wel. "Felawe," a seide, "par amur: Whar mai ich finde th'emperur? Thow me tel!" "Ich wile thee telle anon right: At Rifoun a lai tonight, Be me swere!" The masager him thankede anon And thederwardes he gan gon Withouten demere. Th'empereur thar a fonde; Adoun a knevlede on the grounde, Ase hit was right, And seide: "The levedi of South Hamtone Thee grette wel be Godes sone, That is so bright, And bad thee, in the ferste day That cometh in the moneth o May, How so hit be, That ye be to fighte prest With your ferde in hare forest Beside the se. Hire lord she wile theder sende For the love, for to schende, With lite meini; Thar aboute thow schost be fouse, And thow schelt after her wedde to spouse, To thin amy." "Sai," a seide, "Icham at hire heste: Yif me lif hit wile leste, Hit schel be do! Gladder icham for that sawe, Than be fouel, whan hit ginneth dawe, And sai hire so! And for thow woldes hire erande bede, An hors icharged with golde rede Ich schel thee yeve, And withinne this fourtene night Me self schel dobbe thee to knight, Yif that ich live." The mesager him thankede yerne; Hom ayen he gan him terne To Hamtoun; The levedi a fond in hire bour, And he hire clepede doceamur And gan to roun: "Dame," a seide, "I thee tel: That emperur thee grette wel With love mest: Glad he is for that tiding, A wile be prest at that fighting In that forest. Yif thow ert glad the lord to sle, Gladder a is for love of thee Fele sithe!" The mesager hath thus isaid, The levedi was right wel apaid And maked hire blithe. In Mai, in the formeste dai, The levedi in hire bedde lai, Ase hit wer nede; Hire lord she clepede out of halle And seide, that evel was on hire falle, She wende be ded. That erl for hire hath sorwe ikaught And askede, yif she disired aught, That mighte hire frevre. "Ye," she seide, "of a wilde bor I wene, me mineth, boute for Al of the fevre!" 4 "Madame," a seide, "for love myn, Whar mai ich finde that wilde swin? I wolde, thow it hadde!" And she answerde with tresoun mest, Be the se in hare forest, Thar a bradde. That erl swor, be Godes grace, In that forest he wolde chace, That bor to take; And she answerde with tresoun than; "Blessed be thow of alle man For mine sake!" That erl is hors began to stride, His scheld he heng upon is side, Gert with swerd; Moste non armur on him come, Himself was boute the ferthe some Toward that ferd. Allas, that he nadde be war Of is fomen, that weren thar, Him forte schende: With tresoun worth he ther islawe And ibrought of is lif-dawe, Er he hom wende! Whan he com in to the forest, Th'emperur a fond al prest; For envi A prikede out before is ost, For pride and for make bost, And gan to crie: "Aghilt thee, treitour! thow olde dote! Thow shelt ben hanged be the throte, Thin heved thow schelt lese; The sone schel anhanged be And the wif, that is so fre, To me lemman I chese!" Th'erl answerde at that sawe: "Me thenketh, thow seist ayen the lawe, So God me amende! Me wif and child, that was so fre, Yif thow thenkest beneme hem me, Ich schel hem defende!" Tho prikede is stede Sire Gii, A stalword man and hardi, While he was sounde; Th'emperur he smot with is spere, Out of is sadel he gan him bere And threw him to grounde. "Treitour," a seide, "thow ert to bolde! Wenestow, thegh ich bo olde, To ben afered? That thow havest no right to me wif, I schel thee kithe be me lif!" And drough is swerd. That erl held is swerd adrawe, Th'emperur with he hadde slawe, Nadde be sokour: Thar come knightes mani and fale, Wel ten thosent told be tale, To th'emperur. Tho Sire Gii him gan defende, Thre hondred hevedes of a slende With is brond; Hadde he ben armed wel, ywis, Al the meistré hadde ben his, Ich understonde. Thre men were slawe, that he ther hadde, That he with him out ladde And moste nede; To have merci, that was is hope; Th'emperur after him is lope Upon a stede. Th'erl knewlede to th'emperur, Merci a bad him and sokour And is lif: "Merci, sire, ase thow art fre, Al that ichave, I graunte thee, Boute me wif! For thine men, that ichave slawe, Have her me swerd idrawe And al me fe: Boute me yonge sone Bef And me wif, that is me lef, That let thow me!" "For Gode," queth he, "that ich do nelle!" Th'emperur to him gan telle, And was agreved, Anon right is swerd out drough And the gode knight a slough And nam is heved. A knight a tok the heved an honde: "Have," a seide, "ber this sonde Me leve swet!" The knight to Hamtoun tho gan gon, The levedi thar a fond anon And gan hire grete: "Dame," a seide, "to me atende: Th'emperur me hider sende With is pray!" And she seide: "Blessed mot he be! To wif a schel wedde me To morwe in the dai. Sai him, me swete wight, That he come yet to night In to me bour!" The mesager is wei hath holde, Al a seide, ase she him tolde, To th'emperur. Now scholle we of him mone, Of Beves, that was Guis sone, How wo him was: Yerne a wep, is hondes wrong, For his fader a seide among: "Allas! Allas!" He cleped is moder and seide is sawe: "Vile houre! Thee worst to-drawe And al to-twight! Me thenketh, ich were ther-of ful fawe, For thow havest me fader slawe With mechel unright! Allas, moder, thee faire ble! Evel becometh thee, houre to be, To holde bordel, And alle wif houren for thee sake, The devel of helle ich hii betake, Flesch and fel! Ac o thing, moder, I schel thee swere: Yif ich ever armes bere And be of elde, Al that hath me fader islawe And ibrought of is lif dawe, Ich shel hem yilden!" The moder hire hath understonde, That child she smot with hire honde Under is ere. The child fel doun and that was scathe, His meister tok him wel rathe, That highte Saber. The knight was trewe and of kinde, Strenger man ne scholde men finde To ride ne go. A was ibrought in tene and wrake Ofte for that childes sake Ase wel ase tho. That childe he nam up be the arm, Wel wo him was for that harm, That he thar hadde. Toward is kourt he him kende; The levedi after Saber sende And to him radde. "Saber," she seide, "thow ert me lef, Let sle me yonge sone Bef, That is so bold! Let him anhange swithe highe, I ne reche, what deth he dighe, Sithe he be cold!" 5 Saber stod stille and was ful wo; Natheles a seide, a wolde do After hire sawe; The child with him hom he nam, A swin he tok, whan he hom cam, And dede hit of dawe. The childes clothes, that were gode, Al a bisprengde with that blode In many stede, Ase yif the child were to-hewe, A thoughte to his moder hem schewe, And so a dede. At the laste him gan adrede, He let clothen in pouer wede That hende wight, And seide: "Sone, thow most kepe Upon the felde mine schepe This fourte night! And whan the feste is come to th'ende, In to another londe I schel thee sende Fer be southe, To a riche erl, that schel thee gie And teche thee of corteisie In the youthe. And whan thow ert of swich elde, That thow might the self wilde, And ert of age, Thanne scheltow come in te Ingelonde, With werre winne in to thin honde Thin eritage. I schel thee helpe with alle me might, With dent of swerd to gete thee right, Be thow of elde!" The child him thankede and sore wep, And forth a wente with the schep Upon the velde. Beves was herde upon the doun He lokede homward to the toun, That scholde ben his; He beheld toward the tour, Trompes he herde and tabour And meche blis. "Lord," a seide, "on me thow mone! Ne was ich ones an erles sone And now am herde? Mighte ich with that emperur speke, Wel ich wolde me fader awreke For al is ferde!" He nemeth is bat and forth a goth, Swithe sori and wel wroth, Toward the tour; "Porter!" a sede, "Let me in reke! A lite thing ich ave to speke With th'emperur." "Go hom, truant!" the porter sede, "Scherewe houre sone, I thee rede, Fro the gate: Boute thow go hennes also swithe, Hit schel thee rewe fele sithe, Thow come ther-ate! 6 Sixte the scherewe, "Ho be itte, A loketh, as a wolde smite With is bat: Speke he ought meche more, I schel him smite swithe sore Upon is hat." "For Gode," queth Beves, "natheles, An houre sone for soth ich wes, Wel ich it wot! I nam no truant, be Godes grace!" With that a lefte up is mace Anon fot hot. Beves withoute the gate stod. And smot the porter on the hod, That he gan falle; His heved he gan al to cleve And forth a wente with that leve In to the halle. Al aboute he gan beholde, To th'emperur he spak wordes bolde With meche grame: "Sire," a sede, "what dostow here? Whi colles thow aboute the swire That ilche dame? Me moder is that thow havest an honde: What dostow her upon me londe Withouten leve? Tak me me moder and mi fe, Boute thow the rather hennes te, I schel thee greve! Nastow, sire, me fader slawe? Thow schelt ben hanged and to-drawe, Be Godes wille! Aris! Fle hennes, I thee rede!" Th'emperur to him sede: "Foul, be stille!" Beves was nigh wod for grame, For a clepede him "foul" be name, And to him a wond; For al that weren in the place, Thries a smot him with is mace And with is honde. Thries a smot him on the kroun; That emperur fel swowe adoun, Thar a sat. The levedi, is moder, gan to grede: "Nemeth that treitour!" she sede, "Anon with that!" Tho dorste Beves no leng abide; The knightes up in ech a side, More and lasse, Wo hem was for the childes sake, Boute non of hem nolde him take Hii lete him pase. Beves goth faste ase he mai, His meister a mette in the wai, That highte Saber, And he him askede with blithe mod: "Beves!" a seide, "for the Rode, What dostow her?" "I schel thee telle al togadre: Beten ichave me stifadre With me mace; Thries I smot him in the heved, Al for ded ich him leved In the place!" "Beves," queth Saber, "thow ert to blame: The levedi wile now do me schame For thine sake! Boute thow be me consaile do, Thow might now sone bringe us bo In meche wrake!" Saber Beves to his hous ladde, Meche of that levedi him dradde. The levedi out of the tour cam, To Saber the wei she nam. "Saber," she seide, "whar is Bef, That wike treitour, that fule thef?" "Dame," a seide, "ich dede him of dawe Be thee red and be thee sawe: This beth his clothe, thow her sixt." The levedi seide: "Saber thow lixt! Boute thow me to him take, Thow schelt abegge for is sake." Beves herde his meister threte; To hire a spak with hertte grete And seide: "Lo, me her be name! Do me meister for me no schame! Yif thow me sext, lo, whar ich am here!" His moder tok him be the ere; Fain she wolde a were of live. Foure knightes she clepede blive: "Wendeth," she seide, "to the stronde: Yif ye seth schipes of painim londe, Selleth to hem this ilche hyne, That ye for no gode ne fine, Whather ye have for him mor and lesse, Selleth him right in to hethenesse!" Forth the knightes gonne te, Til that hii come to the se, Schipes hii fonde ther stonde Of hethenesse and of fele londe; The child hii chepeden to sale, Marchaundes thai fonde ferli fale And solde that child for mechel aughte And to the Sarasins him betaughte. Forth thai wente with that child, Crist of hevene be him mild! The childes hertte was wel colde, For that he was so fer isolde; Natheles, though him thoughte eile, Toward painim a moste saile. Whan hii rivede out of that strond, The king highte Ermin of that londe; His wif was ded, that highte Morage, A doughter a hadde of yong age, Josiane that maide het, Hire schon wer gold upon hire fet; So faire she was and bright of mod, Ase snow upon the rede blod - Wharto scholde that may discrive? Men wiste no fairer thing alive, So hende ne wel itaught; Boute of Cristene lawe she kouthe naught. The marchauns wente an highing And presente Beves to Ermyn King. The king thar of was glad and blithe And thankede hem mani a sithe: "Mahoun!" a seide, "thee might be proute, And this child wolde to thee aloute; Yif a wolde a Sarasin be, Yit ich wolde hope, a scholde the! Be Mahoun, that sit an high, A fairer child never I ne sigh, Neither a lingthe ne on brade, Ne non, so faire limes hade! Child," a seide, "whar wer thee bore? What is thee name? telle me fore! Yif ich it wiste, hit were me lef." "For Gode," a seide, "ich hatte Bef; Iborne ich was in Ingelonde, At Hamtoun, be the se stronde. Me fader was erl thar a while, Me moder him let sle with gile, And me she solde in to hethenlonde; Wikked beth fele wimmen to fonde! Ac, sire, yif it ever so betide, That ich mowe an horse ride And armes bere and scheft tobreke, Me fader deth ich schel wel wreke!" The kinges hertte wex wel cold, Whan Beves hadde thus itolde, And seide: "I nave non eir after me dai, Boute Josian, this faire mai; And thow wile thee god forsake And to Apolyn, me lord, take, Hire I schel thee yeve to wive And al me lond after me live!" "For Gode!" queth Beves, "that I nolde For al the selver ne al the golde, That is under hevene light, Ne for thee doughter, that is so bright. I nolde forsake in none manere Jesu, that boughte me so dere. Al mote thai be doum and deve, That on the false godes beleve!" The king him lovede wel the more, For him ne stod of no man sore, And seide: "Beves, while thow ert swain, Thow schelt be me chaumberlain, And thow schelt, whan thow ert dobbed knight, Me baner bere in to everi fight!" Beves answerde al with skil: "What ye me hoten, don ich wil!" Beves was ther yer and other, The king him lovede also is brother, And the maide that was so sligh. So dede everi man that him sigh. Be that he was fiftene yer olde, Knight ne swain thar nas so bolde, That him dorste ayenes ride Ne with wrethe him abide. His ferste bataile, for soth te say A dede a Cristes messe day; Ase Beves scholde to water ride And fiftene Sarasins be is side, And Beves rod on Arondel, That was a stede gode and lel. A Sarasin began to say And askede him, what het that day. Beves seide: "For soth ywis, I not never, what dai it is, For I nas boute seve winter old, Fro Cristendome ich was isold; Tharfore I ne can telle nought thee, What dai that hit mighte be." The Sarasin beheld and lough. "This dai," a saide, "I knowe wel inough. This is the ferste dai of Youl, Thee God was boren withouten doul; For thi men maken ther mor blisse Than men do her in hethenesse. Anoure thee God, so I schel myn, Bothe Mahoun and Apolyn!" Beves to that Sarasin said: "Of Cristendom yit ichave abraid, Ichave seie on this dai right Armed mani a gentil knight, Torneande right in the feld With helmes bright and mani scheld; And were ich alse stith in plas, Ase ever Gii, me fader was, Ich wolde for me Lordes love, That sit high in hevene above, Fighte with yow everichon, Er than ich wolde hennes gon!" The Sarasin seide to his felawes: "Lo, brethern, hire ye nought this sawes, How the yonge Cristene hounde, A saith, a wolde us fellen te grounde. Wile we aboute him gon And fonde that treitour slon?" Al aboute thai gonne thringe, And hard on him thai gonne dinge And yaf him wondes mani on Thourgh the flesch in to the bon, Depe wondes and sore, That he mighte sofre namore; Tho his bodi began to smerte, He gan plokken up is hertte, Ase tid to a Sarasin a wond And breide a swerd out of is honde, And fifti Sarasins, in that stonde Thar with a yaf hem dedli wonde, And sum he strok of the swire, That the heved flegh in to the rivere, And sum he clef evene asonder; Here hors is fet thai laine under; Ne was ther non, that mighte ascape, So Beues slough hem in a rape. The stedes hom to stable ran Withoute kenning of eni man. Beves hom began to ride, His wondes bledde be ech side; The stede he graithed up anon, In to his chaumber he gan gon And leide him deueling on the grounde, To kolen his hertte in that stounde. Tiding com to King Ermyn That Beves hadde mad is men tyn; The king swor and seide is sawe. For thi a scholde ben to-drawe. Up stod that maide Josian, And to hire fader she seide than: "Sire, ich wot wel in me thought, That thine men ne slough he nought, Be Mahoun ne be Tervagaunt, Boute hit were himself defendaunt! Ac, fader," she saide, "be me red, Er thow do Beves to ded, Ich praie, sire, for love o me, Do bringe that child before thee! Whan the child, that is so bold, His owene tale hath itolde, And thow wite the soth, aplight, Who hath the wrong, who hath right, Yef him his dom, that he schel have, Whather thow wilt him slen or save!" King Ermyn seide: "Me doughter fre, Ase thow havest seid, so it schel be!" Josiane tho anon rightes Clepede to hire twei knightes: "To Beves now wende ye And prai him, that he come to me: Er me fader arise fro his des; Ful wel ich schel maken is pes!" Forth the knightes gonne gon, To Beves chaumber thai come anon And praide, ase he was gentil man, Come speke with Josian. Beves stoutliche in that stounde Haf up is heved fro the grounde; With stepe eighen and rowe bren So lotheliche he gan on hem sen, The twei knightes, thar thai stode, Thai were aferde, hii wer nigh wode. A seide: "Yif ye ner masegers, Ich wolde yow sle, losengers! I nele rise o fot fro the grounde, For speke with an hethene hounde: She is an honde, also be ye, Out of me chaumber swithe ye fle!" The knightes wenten out in rape, Thai were fain so to ascape. To Josian thai wente as tit And seide: "Of him is gret despit: Sertes, a clepede thee hethene hound Thries in a lite stounde We nolde for al Ermonie Eft sones se him with our eie!" "Hardeliche," she seide, "cometh with me, And ich wile your waraunt be!" Forth thai wente al isame, To Beves chaumber that he came. "Lemman," she seide, "gent and fre, For Godes love, spek with me!" She keste him bothe moth and chin And yaf him confort gode afin, So him solaste that mai, That al is care wente awai, And seide: "Lemman, thin ore! Icham iwonded swithe sore!" "Lemman," she seide, "with gode entent Ichave brought an oyniment, For make thee bothe hol and fere; Wende we to me fader dere!" Forth thai wenten an highing Til Ermyn, the riche king, And Beves tolde unto him than, How that stour ended and gan, And schewed on him in that stounde Fourti grete, grisli wounde. Thanne seide King Ermin the hore: "I nolde, Beves, that thow ded wore For al the londes, that ichave; Ich praie, doughter, that thow him save And prove to hele, ase thow can, The wondes of that doughti man!" In to chaumber she gan him take And riche bathes she let him make, That withinne a lite stonde He was bothe hol and sonde. Thanne was he ase fresch to fight, So was the faukoun to the flight. His other prowesse who wile lere, Hende, herkneth, and ye mai here! A wilde bor thar was aboute, Ech man of him hadde gret doute. Man and houndes, that he tok, With his toskes he al toschok. Thei him hontede knightes tene, Tharof ne yef he nought a bene, At is mouth fif toskes stoden out, Everich was fif enches about, His sides wer hard and strong, His brostles were gret and long, Himself was fel and kouthe fighte, No man sle him ne mighte. Beves lay in is bedde a night And thoughte, a wolde kethen is might Upon that swin himself one, That no man scholde with him gone. A morwe, whan hit was dai cler, Ariseth knight and squier; Beves let sadlen is ronsi, That bor a thoughte to honti, A gerte him with a gode brond And tok a spere in is hond, A scheld a heng upon is side, Toward the wode he gan ride. Josian, that maide, him beheld, Al hire love to him she feld; To hire self she seide, ther she stod: "Ne kepte I never more gode Ne namore of al this worldes blisse, Thanne Beves with love o time te kisse; In gode time were boren, That Beves hadde to lemman koren!" Tho Beves in to the wode cam, His scheld aboute is nekke a nam And tide his hors to an hei thorn And blew a blast with is horn; Thre motes a blew al arowe, That the bor him scholde knowe. Tho he com to the bor is den, A segh ther bones of dede men, The bor hadde slawe in the wode, Ieten here flesch and dronke her blode. "Aris!" queth Beves, "corsede gast, And yem me bataile wel in hast!" Sone so the bor him sigh, A rerde is brosteles wel an high And starede on Beves with eien holwe, Also a wolde him have aswolwe; And for the bor yenede so wide, A spere Beves let to him glide; On the scholder he smot the bor, His spere barst to pises thore The bor stod stille ayen the dent, His hyde was harde ase eni flent. Now al to-borste is Beves spere, A drough his swerd, himself to were, And faught ayen the bor so grim, A smot the bor and he to him. Thus the bataile gan leste long Til the time of evesong, That Beves was so weri of foughte, That of is lif he ne roughte, And tho the bor was also, Awai fro Beves he gan go, Wile Beves made is praier To God and Mari, is moder dere, Whather scholde other slen. With that com the bor ayen And bente is brostles up, saunfaile, Ayen Beves to yeve bataile; Out at is mouth in aither side The foim ful ferli gan out glide; And Beves in that ilche veneu, Thourgh Godes grace and is vertu With swerd out a slinte Twei toskes at the ferste dent; A spanne of the groin beforn With is swerd he hath of schoren. Tho the bor so loude cride, Out of the forest wide and side, To the castel thar that lai Ermin, Men herde the noise of the swin; And, alse he made that lotheli cri, His swerd Beves hasteli In at the mouth gan threste tho And karf his hertte evene ato The swerd a breide ayen fot hot And the bor is heved of smot, And on a tronsoun of is spere That heved a stikede for to bere, Thanne a sette horn to mouthe And blew the pris ase wel kouthe, So glad he was for is honting. That heved a thoughte Josian bring: And er he com to that maide fre, Him com strokes so gret plenté, That fain he was to weren is hed And save himself fro the ded. A stiward was with King Ermin, That hadde tight to sle that swin; To Beves a bar gret envie, For that he hadde the meistrie; He dede arme his knightes stoute, Four and twenti in a route, And ten forsters also he tok And wente to wode, seith the bok. Thar-of ne wiste Beves nought. Helpe him God, that alle thing wrought! In is wei he rit pas for pas. Herkneth now a ferli cas: A wende pasi in grith and pes, The stiward cride: "Leith on and sles!" Beves seigh that hii to him ferde, A wolde drawe to is swerde: Thanne had he leved it thor, Thar he hadde slawe the bor. He nadde nothing, himself to were, Boute a tronsoun of a spere. Tho was Beves sore desmeid, The heved fro the tronsoun a braid, And with the bor is heved a faught And wan a swerd of miche maught, That Morgelai was cleped, aplight. Beter swerd bar never knight. Tho Beves hadde that swerd an hond, Among the hethene knightes a wond, And sum upon the helm a hitte, In to the sadel he hem slitte, And sum knight Beves so ofraughte, The heved of at the ferste draughte, So harde he gan to lein aboute Among the hethene knightes stoute, That non ne pasede hom, aplight; So thourgh the grace of God almight The kinges stiward a hitte so, That is bodi a clef ato. The dede kors a pulte adoun And lep himself in to the arsoun. That strok him thoughte wel iset For he was horsed meche bet. He thoughte make pes doun rightes Of the forsters ase of the knightes; To hem faste he gan ride; Thai gonne schete be ech a side, So mani arwes to him thai sende, Unnethe a mighte himself defende, So tho is a lite stounde The ten forsters wer feld te grounde, And hew hem alle to pices smale: So hit is fonde in Frensche tale. Josian lai in a castel And segh that sconfit everich del. "O Mahoun," she seide, "oure drighte, What Beves is man of meche mighte! Al this world yif ich it hedde, Ich him yeve me to wedde; Boute he me love, icham ded. Swete Mahoun, what is thee red? Lovelonging me hath becought, Thar-of wot Beves right nought," Thus that maide made hire mon, Thar she stod in the tour al on, And Beves thar the folk beleved And wente hom with the heved; That heved of that wilde swin He presente to King Ermin. The king thar-of was glad and blithe And thankede him ful mani a sithe, Ac he ne wiste ther of nowight, How is stiward to dethe was dight. Thre yer after that bataile, That Beves the bor gan asaile, A king ther com in to Ermonie And thoughte winne with meistrie Josiane, that maide bright, That lovede Beves with al hire might. Brademond cride, ase he wer wod, To King Ermin, thar a stod: "King," a seide swithe blive, "Yem me thee doughter to wive! Yif thow me wernest, withouten faile, I schel winne hire in plein bataile, On fele half I schel thee anughe, And al thee londe I schel destruye And thee sle, so mai betide, And lay hire a night be me side, And after I wile thee doughter yeve To a weine-pain, that is fordrive!" Ermin answerde blive on highe: "Be Mahoun, sire, thow schelt lighe!" Adoun of his tour a went And after al is knightes a sent And tolde hem how Brademond him asailed hadde, And askede hem alle, what hii radde. A word thanne spak that maiden bright: "Be Mahoun, sire! wer Beves a knight, A wolde defende thee wel inough. Me self I segh, whar he slough Your owene stiward, him beset, Al one in the wode with him a met, At wode he hadde his swerd beleved, Thar he smot of the bores heved; He nadde nothing, himself to were, Boute a tronsoun of is spere, And your stiward gret peple hadde, Four and twenti knightes a ladde, Al y-armed to the teth, And everi hadde swore is deth, And ten forsters of the forest With him a broughte ase prest, That thoughte him have slawe thore And take the heved of the bore, And yeve the stiward the renoun. Tho Beves segh that foule tresoun, A leide on with the bor is heved, Til that hii were adoun iweved, And of the stiward a wan that day His gode swerd Morgelay. The ten forsters also a slough And hom a pasede wel inough, That he of hem hadde no lothe." King Ermyn thanne swor is othe, That he scholde be maked knight, His baner to bere in that fight. He clepede Beves at that sake And seide: "Knight ich wile thee make. Thow schelt bere in to bataile Me baner, Brademond to asaile!" Beves answerde with blithe mod: "Blethelich," a seide, "be the Rod!" King Ermin tho anon righte Dobbede Beves unto knighte And yaf him a scheld gode and sur With thre eglen of asur, The champe of gold ful wel idight With fif lables of selver bright; Sithe a gerte him with Morgelay, A gonfanoun wel stout and gay Josian him broughte for to bere. Sent of the scheld, I yow swere! Beves dede on is actoun, Hit was worth mani a toun; An hauberk him broughte that mai, So seiden alle that hit isai: Hit was wel iwrought and faire, Non egge tol mighte it nought paire. After that she yaf him a stede, That swithe gode was at nede, For hit was swift and ernede wel. Me clepede hit Arondel. Beves in the sadel lep, His ost him folwede al to hep With baner bright and scheldes schene, Thretti thosent and fiftene, The ferste scheld trome Beves nam. Brademond aghenes him cam; His baner bar the King Redefoun, That levede on Sire Mahoun. Row he was also a schep, Beves of him nam gode kep. He smot Arondel with spures of golde; Thanne thoughte that hors, that he scholde, Aghen Redefoun Beves gan ride And smot him thourgh out bothe side, Hauberk ne scheld ne actoun Ne vailede him nought worth a botoun, That he ne fel ded to the grounde. "Reste thee," queth Beves, "hethen hounde! Thee hadde beter atom than here!" "Lay on faste!" a bad his fere. Tho laide thai on with eger mod And slowe Sarsins, as hii wer wod, And Sire Beves, the Cristene knight Slough ase mani in that fight With Morgelay himself alone, Ase thai deden everichone. And ever hii were to fighte prest Til that the sonne set in the west. Beves and is ost withinne a stounde Sexti thosent thai felde to grounde, That were out of Dameske isent, That never on homward ne went; Tho Brademond segh is folk islayn, A flegh awei with mighte and mayn. Ase he com ride be a cost, Twei knightes a fond of Beves ost; Of his stede he gan doun lighte And bond hem bothe anon righte, And thoughte hem lede to his prisoun And have for hem gret raunsoun. Ase he trosede hem on is stede, Beves of hem nam gode hede, And hasteliche in that tide After Brademond he gan ride And seide: "Brademond, olde wreche, Ertow come Josiane to feche? Erst thow schelt pase thourgh min hond And thourgh Morgelay, me gode brond!" Withouten eni wordes mo Beves Brademond hitte so Upon is helm in that stounde, That a felde him flat to grounde. "Merci!" queth Bradmond, "ich me yelde, Recreaunt to thee, in this felde, So harde thee smitest upon me kroun, Ich do me all in the bandoun, Sexti cites with castel tour Thin owen, Beves, to thin onour, With that thow lete me ascape!" Beves answerde tho in rape: "Nay!" a seide, "be sein Martyn! Icham iswore to King Ermin. Al that ich do, it is his dede; Tharfore, sire, so God me spede, Thow schelt swere upon the lay, Thow schelt werre on him night ne day, And omage eche yer him yelde And al the londe of him helde!" Brademond answerde anon righte: "Tharto me treuthe I thee plighte, That I ne schel never don him dere Ne aghen thee, Beves, armes bere!" And whan he hadde swore so, Beves let King Brademond go. Allas, that he nadde him slawe And ibrought of is life dawe! For sithe for al is faire beheste Mani dai a maked him feste, In is prisoun a lai seve yere, Ase ye may now forthward here. Beves rod hom and gan to singe And seide to Ermin the Kinge: "Sire! Brademond, King of Sarasine, A is become one of thine; The man a is to thin heste, While his lif wile leste, Londes and ledes, al that he walt, A saith, sire, of thee hem halt!" Thanne was King Ermin at that sithe In is hertte swithe blithe; A clepede is doughter and saide: "Josian, the faire maide, Unarme Beves, he wer at mete, And serve thee self him ther-ate!" Tho nolde that maide never blinne, Til she com to hire inne, Thar she lai hire selve anight: Thar she sette that gentil knight, Hire self yaf him water to hond And sette before him al is sonde. Tho Beves hadde wel i-ete And on the maidenes bed isete, That mai, that was so bright of hiwe, Thoughte she wolde hire consaile schewe, And seide: "Beves, lemman, thin ore! Ichave loved thee ful yore, Sikerli can I no rede, Boute thow me love, icham dede, And boute thow with me do thee wille." "For Gode," queth Beves, "that ich do nelle! Her is," a seide, "min unliche, Brademond King, that is so riche, In al this world nis ther man, Prinse ne king ne soudan, That thee to wive have nolde, And he the hadde ones beholde!" "Merci," she seide, "yet with than Ichavede thee lever to me lemman, Thee bodi in thee scherte naked, Than al the gold, that Crist hath maked, And thow wost with me do thee wille!" "For Gode," queth Beves, "that I do nelle!" Sche fel adoun and wep right sore: "Thow seidest soth her before: In al this world nis ther man, Prinse ne king ne soudan, That me to wive have nolde, And he me hadde ones beholde, And thow, cherl, me havest forsake; Mahoun thee yeve tene and wrake! Beter become the iliche For to fowen an olde diche Thanne for to be dobbed knight, Te gon among maidenes bright. To other contré thow might fare: Mahoun thee yeve tene and care!" "Damesele," a seide, "thow seist unright; Me fader was bothe erl and knight. How mighte ich thanne ben a cherl, Whan me fader was knight and erl? To other contré ich wile te: Scheltow me namore ise! Thow yeve me an hors: lo it her! I nel namore of thee daunger!" Forth him wente Sire Bevoun And tok is in in that toun, Sore aneighed and aschamed, For she hadde him so gramed. Tho Beves was to toun igo, Tho began that maidenes wo; Thanne was hire wo with alle, Hire thoughte, the tour wolde on hir falle. She clepede hire chaumberlein Bonefas And tolde to him al hire cas And bad him to Beves wende: "And sai him, ich wile amende Al togedre of word and dede, Of that ichave him misede!" Forth wente Bonefas in that stounde And Beves in is chaumber a founde And seide, she him theder sende, And that she wolde alle amende Al togedres to is wille, Bothe loude and eke stille. Thanne answerde Beves the fer: "Sai, thow might nought speden her! Ac for thow bringest fro hire mesage, I schel thee yeve to the wage A mantel whit so melk: The broider is of Tuli selk, Beten abouten with rede golde, The king to were, thegh a scholde!" Bonefas him thankede yerne, Hom aghen he gan terne; A fond that maide in sorwe and care And tolde hire his answare, That he ne mighte nought spede Aboute hire nede, And seide: "Thow haddest unright, So te misain a noble knight!" "Who yaf thee this ilche wede? "Beves, that hendi knight!" a sede. "Allas!" she seide, "Ich was to blame, Whan ich seide him swiche schame, For hit nas never a cherles dede, To yeve a maseger swiche a wede! Whan he nel nought to me come, The wei to his chaumber I wil neme, And, what ever of me befalle, Ich wile wende in to is halle!" Beves herde that maide ther-oute. Ase yif aslep, he gan to route. "Awake, lemman!" she seide, "Awake! Icham icome, me pes to make. Lemman, for the corteisie, Spek with me a word or tweie!" "Damesele," queth Beves thanne, "Let me ligge and go the wei henne! Icham weri of-foughte sore, Ich faught for thee, I nel namore." "Merci," she seide, "lemman, thin ore!" She fel adoun and wep wel sore: "Men saith," she seide, "in olde riote, That wimmannes bolt is sone schote. Forghem me, that ichave misede, And ich wile right now to mede Min false godes al forsake And Cristendom for thee love take!" "In that maner," queth the knight, "I graunte thee, me swete wight!" And kiste hire at that cordement. Tharfore he was negh after schent. The twei knightes, that he unbond, That were in Brademondes hond, He made that on is chaumberlain. Him hadde be beter, he hadde hem slein! Thei wente to the king and swor othe: "No wonder, sire, thegh ye be wrothe, No wonder, thegh ye ben agreved, Whan Beves, scherewe misbeleved, The doughter he hath now forlain. Hit were gode, sire, that he wer slain!" Hii lowe, the scherewes, that him gan wreie. 7 In helle mote thai hongen beie! He dede nothing, boute ones hire kiste, Nought elles bi hem men ne wiste. Tharfore hit is soth isaide And in me rime right wel ilaid. Delivre a thef fro the galwe, He thee hateth after be alle halwe! "Allas!" queth Ermin, the King, "Wel sore me reweth that tiding! Sethe he com me ferst to, So meche he hath for me ido, I ne mighte for al peynim londe, That men dede him eni schonde! Ac fain ich wolde awreke be, Boute I ne mighte hit nought ise." Thanne bespak a Sarasin - Have he Cristes kurs and myn - "Sire, she scholle for is sake A letter swithe anon do make To Brademond, the stronge king, And do him theder the letter bringe; And in the letter thee schelt saie, That he hath Josian forlaie!" Whan the letter was come to th'ende, After Beves the king let sende And seide: "Beves, thow most hanne To Brademond, thin owene manne: Al in solas and in delit Thow most him bere this ilche scriit! Ac yif yow schelt me letter bere, Upon the lai thow schelt me swere, That thow me schelt with no man mele, To schewe the prente of me sele!" "I wile," queth Beves ase snel, "The leter bere treuliche and wel; Have ich Arondel, me stede, Ich wile fare in to that thede, And Morgelai, me gode bronde, Ich wile wende in to that londe! King Ermin seide in is sawe, That ner no mesager is lawe, To ride upon an hevi stede, That swiftli scholde don is nede. "Ac nim a lighter hakenai And lef her the swerd Morgelai, And thow schelt come to Brademonde Sone withinne a lite stounde!" Beves an hakenai bestrit And in his wei forth a rit And bereth with him is owene deth, Boute God him helpe, that alle thing seth! Terne we aghen, thar we wer er, And speke we of is em Saber! After that Beves was thus sold, For him is hertte was ever cold. A clepede to him his sone Terri And bad him wenden and aspie In to everi londe fer and ner, Whider him ladde the maroner, And seide: "Sone, thow ert min owen, Wel thow canst the lord knowen! Ich hote thee, sone, in alle manere, That thow him seche this seve yer. Ich wile feche him, mowe thow him fynde, Though he be biyende Inde!" Terri, is sone, is forth ifare, Beves a soughte everiwhare; In al hethenes nas toun non, That Cristene man mighte ther in gon, That he ne hath Beves in isought, Ac he ne kouthe finde him nought. So hit be fel upon a cas, That Terri com beside Damas; And ase he com forth be that stede, A sat and dinede in a wede Under a faire medle tre, That Sire Beves gan of-see. "Sire," queth Terri, "for Sein Juline! Is it thee wille, come nere and dine!" Beves was of-hongred sore And kouthe him gret thank therfore, For twei dawes he hadde ride Fastande in that ilche wede. The palmer nas nought withouten store, Inough a leide him before, Bred and flesc out of is male And of his flaketes win and ale Whan Beves hadde eten gret foisoun Terri askede at Sire Bevoun, Yif a herde telle yong or olde Of a child, that theder was solde. His name was ihote Bevoun Ibore a was at South-Hamtoun. Beves beheld Terri and lough, And seide, a knew that child wel inough: "Hit is nought," a seide, "gon longe, I segh the Sarsins that child anhonge!" Terri fel ther doun and swough, His her, his clothes he al to-drough. Whan he awok and speke mighte, Sore a wep and sore sighte And seide: "Allas, that he was boren! Is me lord Beves forloren!" Beves tok him up at that cas And gan him for to solas: "Wend hom," a seide, "to thee contré! Sai the frendes so ichave thee. Though thow him seche thes seve yer, Thow worst that child never the ner!" Terri on Beves beheld And segh the boiste with a scheld. "Me thenketh, thow ert a masager, That in this londe walkes her; Icham a clerk and to scole yede: Sire, let me the letter rede, For thow might have gret doute, Thin owene deth to bere aboute!" Beves seide, ich understonde: "He, that me tok this letter an honde, He ne wolde love me non other, Than ich were is owene brother." Beves him thankede and thus hii delde. Terri wente hom and telde His fader Saber in the Ilde of Wight, How him tolde a gentil knight, That Sarsins hadde Beves forfare And hangede him, while he was thare. Saber wep and made drem. For he was the childes em, And ech yer on a dai certaine Upon th'emperur of Almaine With a wel gret baronage A cleimede his eritage. Let we now ben is em Saber And speke of Beves, the maseger! Forth him wente Sire Bevoun Til a com to Dames toun; Aboute the time of middai Out of a mameri a sai Sarasins come gret foisoun, That hadde anoured here Mahoun, Beves of is palfrei alighte And ran to her mameri ful righte And slough here prest, that ther was in, And threw here godes in the fen And lough hem alle ther to scorn. On ascapede and at-orn In at the castel ghete, As the king sat at the mete. "Sire," seide this man at the frome, "Her is icome a corsede gome, That throweth our godes in the fen And sleth al oure men; Unnethe I scapede among that thring, For to bringe thee tiding!" Brademond quakede at the bord And seide: "That is Beves, me lord!" Beves wente in at the castel ghate, His hors he lefte ther-ate And wente forth in to the halle And grete hem in this maner alle: "God, that made this world al ronde, Thee save, Sire King Brademond, And ek alle thine fere, That I se now here, And yif that ilche blessing Liketh thee right nothing, Mahoun, that is god thin, Tervagaunt and Apolin, Thee blessi and dighte Be alle here mighte! Lo her, the King Ermin The sente this letter in parchemin, And ase the letter thee telleth to, A bad, thow scholdest swithe do!" Beves kneueled and nolde nought stonde And yaf up is deth with is owene honde. Brademond quakede al for drede, He undede the letter and gan to rede And fond iwriten in that felle, How that he scholde Beves aquelle. Thanne seide Brademond to twenti king, That were that dai at is gistning, A spak with tresoun and with gile: "Ariseth up," he sede "a while, Everich of yow fro the bord, And wolcometh your kende lord!" Alle hii gonnen up right stonde, And Brademond tok Beves be the honde And held him faste at that sake, That he ne scholde is swerd out take, And cride, alse he hadde be wod, To hem alle, aboute him stod: "Ase ye me loven at this stounde, Bringeth this man swithe to grounde!" So faste hii gonne aboute him scheve, Ase don ben aboute the heve. So withinne a lite stounde Beves was ibrought to grounde. Brademond seide him anon right: "Yif thow me naddest wonne with fight, I nolde for nothing hit beleve, That thow schost be hanged er eve. Ac ase evel thee schel betide, In me prisoun thow schelt abide Under th'erthe twenti teise, Thar thow schelt have meche miseise. Ne scheltow have, til thow be ded, Boute ech a dai quarter of a lof bred; Yif thow wilt drinke, thegh it be nought swet, Thee schelt hit take under the fet!" A dede Beves binde to a ston gret, That wegh seve quarters of whet, And het him caste in to prisoun, That twenti teise was dep adoun. At the prisoun dore Beves fond A tronsoun, that he tok in is hond. Tharwith a thoughte were him there Fram wormes, that in prisoun were. Now is Beves at this petes grounde. God bringe him up hol and sonde! Now speke we of Josian, the maide, That com to hire fader and seide: "Sire," she seide, "whar Beves be, That me mighte him nought fern ise?" "Doughter," a seide, "a is ifare In to his londe and woneth thare, In to is owene eritage, And hath a wif of gret parage, The kinges doughter of Ingelonde, Ase men doth me to understonde." Thanne was that maide wo ynough, In hire chaumber hire her she drogh And wep and seide ever mo, That sum tresoun thar was ydo. "That me ne telde ord and ende, What dai awai whanne a wolde wende." Of Mombraunt the King Yvor, A riche king of gret tresore, Whan he owhar to werre wolde, Fiftene kinges him sewe scholde: Comen a is Josian to wedde; Aghen hire fader so a spedde, That he hire grauntede to is wive And al is londe after is live. Tho Josian wiste, she scholde be quen, Hit was nought be hire wille; I wen Hire were lever have had lasse And have be Beves is contasse. Natheles, now it is so, Hire fader wil she moste do, Ac ever she seide: "Bevoun, Hende knight of South Hamtoun, Naddestow me never forsake, Yif sum tresoun hit nadde make: Ac for the love, that was so gode, That I lovede ase min hertte blode, Ichave," she seide, "a ring on, That of swiche vertu is the ston: While ichave on that ilche ring, To me schel no man have welling, And Beves!" she seide, "be God above, I schel it weren for thee love!" Whan hit to that time spedde, That Yvor scholde that maide wedde, He let sende withouten ensoine After the Soudan of Babiloine And after the fiftene kinge, That him scholde omage bringe, And bad hem come lest and meste, To onoure that meri feste. Of that feste nel ich namor telle, For to highe with our spelle. Whan al the feste to-yede, Ech knight wente to is stede, Men graithede cartes and somers, Knightes to horse and squiers, And Josian with meche care Theder was brought in hire chare. King Ermin nom Arondel And let him sadlen faire and wel, A wente to Beves chaumber, ther he lay, And nom his swerd Morgelay; With Arondel agan it lede To King Yvor, and thus a sede: "Sone," a sede, "have this stede, The beste fole, that man mai fede, And this swerd of stel broun, That was Beves of Hamtoun. A nolde hit yeve, wer it in is honde, Nought for al painim londe!" "Ne ich," queth the King Yvor, "For al the gold ne the tresor, That thow might in the cité belouke!" "Sone," queth Ermin, "wel mot thee it brouke!" Yver gan homward te ride And dede lede Arondel be is side. Whan he com withoute Mombraunt, A swor is oth be Tervagaunt, That he wolde in to his cité ride Upon Arondel before is bride. Arondel thar he bestrit; That hors wel sone underyit, That Beves nas nought upon is rigge The king wel sore scholde hit abegge. He ran over dich and thorn, Thourgh wode and thourgh thekke korn; For no water ne for no londe, Nowhar nolde that stede astonde; At the laste a threw Yvor doun And al to-brak the kinges kroun, That al is kingdom wel unnethe Arerede him ther fro the dethe; And er hii mighte that hors winne, Thai laughte him with queinte ginne. A wonderthing now ye may here. After al that seve yere To rakenteis a stod iteide, Nas mete ne drinke before him leid, Hey ne oten ne water clere, Boute be a kord of a solere. No man dorste come him hende, Thar that hors stod in bende. Now is Josian a quene; Beves in prisoun hath gret tene. The romounce telleth, ther a set, Til the her on is heved grew to is fet; Snakes and euetes and oades fale, How mani, can I nought telle in tale, That in the prisoun were with him, That provede ever with her venim To sle Beves, that gentil knight, Oc, thourgh the grace of God Almight, With the tronsoun, that he to prisoun tok, A slough hem alle, so saith the bok. A fleande nadder was in an hole, For elde blak ase eni cole; Unto Beves she gan flinge And in the forehed thoughte him stinge. Beves was redi with is tronsoun And smot hire, that she fel adoun. Upon aghen the nadder rowe And breide awei his right browe; Tho was Beves sore agreved And smot the nadder on the heved; So harde dent he hire yaf, The brein clevede on is staf. Doun fel the nadder, withouten faile, And smot so Beves with the taile, That negh a les ther contenaunse, 8 Almest is lif was in balaunse. Whan he awakede of that swough, The tronsoun eft to him a drough And bet hire al to pises smale, As hit is fonde in Frensche tale. Tho he hadde slawe the foule fendes, Be that hadde Beves lein in bendes Seve yer in peines grete, Lite idronke and lasse iete; His browe stank for defaut of yeme, That it set after ase a seme, Wharthourgh that maide ne kneu him nought, Whan hii were eft togedre brought. On a dai, ase he was mad and feint, To Jesu Crist he made is pleint And to his moder, seinte Marie, Reuliche he gan to hem crie: "Lord," a seide, "Hevene King, Schepere of erthe and alle thing: What have ich so meche misgilt, That thow sext and tholen wilt, That Thee wetherwines and Thee fo Schel Thee servaunt do this wo? Ich bedde Thee, Lord, for Thee pité, That Thow have merci on me And yeve grace, hennes to gange Or sone be drawen other anhange! Me roughte never, what deth to me come, With that ich were hennes nome! The gailers, that him scholde yeme, Whan hii herde him thus reme, "Thef! cherl!" seide that on tho: "Now beth thee lif dawes ydo, For king ne kaiser ne for no sore Ne scheltow leve no lenger more." Anon rightes with that word A laumpe he let doun be a cord, A swerd a tok be his side, And be the cord he gan doun glide And smot him with that other hond, And Beves to the grounde a wond. "Allas," queth Beves, "that ilche stounde! Wo is the man, that lith ybounde Medel bothe fet and honde! Tho ich com ferst in to this londe, Hadde ich had me swerd Morgelay And Arondel, me gode palfray, For Dames, nadde be tresoun, I nolde have yeve a botoun, And now the meste wreche of alle With a strok me doth adoun falle, Bidde ich never with Jesu speke, Boute ich ther-of may ben awreke!" A smot the gailer with is fest, That is nekke him to-berst. His felawe above gan to crie: "Highe hider, felawe," queth Beves, "highe!" "Yif thow most have help," a sede, "Ich come to thee with a gode spede!" "Yis!" queth Beves, al for gile, And knette the rop thar while Ase high ase a mighte reche. Tho queth Beves with reuful speche: "For the love of Sein Mahoun, Be the rop glid blive adoun And help, that this thef wer ded!" Whan he hadde thus ised, That other gailer no leng abod, Boute by the rop adoun he glod. Whan the rop failede in is hond, Beves held up that gode bronde And felde to gronde that sori wight, Thourghout is bodi that swerd he pight. Now er thai ded, the geilers tweie, And Beves lith to the rakenteie, His lif him thoughte al to long, Thre daies after he ne et ne drong, Tofore that, for soth to sai A was woned, ech other dai Of berelof to have a quarter To his mete and to his diner; And, for is meisters wer bothe ded, Thre daies after he ne et no bred. To Jesu Crist he bed a bone, And He him grauntede wel sone; So yerne he gan to Jesu speke, That his vetres gonne breke And of his medel the grete ston. Jesu Crist he thankede anon; A wente quik out of prisoun Be the rop the gailer com adoun, And wente in to the castel right, Ac it was aboute the midnight; He lokede aboute fer and ner, No man wakande ne segh he ther; He beheld forther a lite To a chaunber under a garite, Thar-inne he segh torges ilight; Beves wente theder ful right; Twelf knightes a fond ther aslepe, That hadde the castel for to kepe; The chaumber dore a fond unsteke, And priveliche he gan in reke And armede him in yrene wede, The beste, that he fond at nede, And gerte him with a gode bronde And tok a gode spere in is honde; A scheld aboute is nekke he cast And wente out of the chaumber in hast. Forther a herde in a stable Pages fele, withoute fable, Ase thai sete in here raging; In at the dore Beves gan spring, And for thai scholde him nought wrain, Under his hond he made him plai. And whan the Sarasins wer islawe, The beste stede he let forth drawe And sadelede hit and wel adight. And wente him forth anon right And gan to crie with loude steven And the porter he gan nevenen: "Awake!" a seide, "proude felawe, Thow were worthi ben hanged and drawe! Highe, the gates wer unsteke, Beves is out of prisoun reke, And icham sent now for is sake, The treitour yif ich mighte of-take!" The porter was al bewaped: "Allas!" queth he, "is Beves ascaped?" Up he caste the gates wide, And Beves bi him gan out ride And tok is wei ful hastelie Toward the londe of Ermonie. He nadde ride in is wei Boute seve mile of that contrei, He wex asleped wondersore, He mighte ride no forthermore; He reinede his hors to a chesteine And felle aslepe upon the pleine; And alse a slep, in is swevene Him thoughte, Brademond and kinges seven Stod over him with swerdes drawe, Al slepande him wolde han slawe. Of that sweven he was of-drad; He lep to hors ase he wer mad, Towarde Damas agein, aplight! Now reste we her a lite wight, And speke we scholle of Brademond. Amorwe, whan he it hadde ifonde, That Beves was ascaped so, In is hertte him was ful wo. That time be comin acent Thar was comin parlement, Erles, barouns, lasse and more, And fiftene kinges were samned thore. To hem Brademond tolde thare, That Beves was fro him ifare, And bad help with might and main, For to feche Beves again. A king thar was swithe fer, His nam was hote Grander. An hors he hadde of gret pris, That was icleped Trinchefis: For him a yaf selver wight, Er he that hors have might. He armede him in yrene wede, Seve knightes he gan with him lede And prikede forth on Trenchefis And wende wenne meche pris; And Beves sone he gan se, Ase he rod toward the cité. "Ayilt thee," a seide, "thow fox welp, Thee god schel thee nothing help, For her thourgh min hondes one, For sothe, thow schelt thee lif forgon!" "So helpe me God!" queth Beves tho, "Hit were no meistri, me to slo, For this is the ferthe dai agon, Mete ne drinke ne bot i non: Ac natheles, God it wot, Yif ich alle nedes mot, Yit ich wile asaie, A lite box thee to paie!" King Grander was of herte grim And rod to Beves and he to him; And ase thei bothe togedre mete, With here launces thei gonne mete, That hit gonnen al to-drive And teborsten on pises five. Here swerdes drowe knightes stoute And fighteth faste, it is no doute; The medwe squaughte of her dentes, The fur flegh out, so spark o flintes; Thus thai leide on in bothe side Betwene midmorwe and undertide. King Grander was agremed strong, That Sire Beves him stod so long, And with is swerd a hitte is scheld, A quarter fel in to the feld, Hauberk, plate and aktoun, In to Beves forther arsoun Half a fot he karf doun right. Tho Beves segh that strok of might, A seide: "That dent was wel iset, Fasten I wile another bet!" With that word Beves smot doun Grander is scheld with is fachoun, And is left honde be the wrest, Hit flegh awei thourgh help of Crist. Tho Grander hadde his scheld ilore, He faught ase he wer wode therfore; A yaf Beves strokes that tide, Non ne moste other abide. Beves ther-of was agreved And smot of King Grander is heved, The dede kors in that throwe Fel out over the sadel bowe. Tho King Grander was islawe, The seve knightes of hethen lawe Beves slough that ilche stounde, So hit is in Frensch yfounde. For nought Beves nolde belave, The beter hors a wolde have; Beves Trenchefis bestrit, And in is weie forth a rit, And Brademond with al is ost Com after with meche bost; So longe hii han Beves drive, That hii come to the clive, Ther the wilde se was. Harkneth now a wondercas! In to the se a moste, iwis, Other fighte aghenes al hethenes. To Jesu Crist he bad a bone, And He him grauntede wel sone: "Lord," a sede, "hevene king, Schepere of erthe and alle thing, Thow madest fisch ase wel alse man, That nothing of senne ne can, Ne nought of fisches kenne Never yet ne dede senne, Of this hethene hounde, That beste Thee and bounde And bete Thee body to the dethe, Tharfore ich may alse ethe To water fle in this stede, To fisch, that never senne dede, Than her daien in londe In al this Sarasines honde!' Beves smot is hors, that it lep In to the se, that was wel dep. Whan he in to the se cam, Over the se, I wot, a swam; In a dai and in a night A bar over that gentil knight. Whan he com of that wilde brok, His gode stede him resede and schok, And Beves, for honger in that stounde The hors threw him doun to the grounde. "Allas!" queth Beves, whan he doun cam, "Whilom ichadde an erldam And an hors gode and snel, That men clepede Arondel; Now ich wolde yeve hit kof For a schiver of a lof!" A restede him ther a lite tide, His gode stede he gan bestride And rod over dale and doun, Til he com to a gret toun; The levedi thar-of over the castel lai, And Beves hire sone of-say And wende ben al out of care And thoughte wel to spede thare. Beves to the castel gate rit And spak to hire, above him sit: "Dame," a seide, "that sit above, For that ilche lordes love, On wham thin herte is on iset: Yeve me today a meles met!" The levedi answerde him tho: "Boute thow fro the gate go, Thee wer beter elleswhar than her; Go, or the tit an evel diner! Me lord," she seide, "is a geaunt And leveth on Mahoun and Tervagaunt And felleth Cristene men to grounde, For he hateth hem ase hounde!" "Be God!" queth Beves, "I swere an othe: Be him lef and be him lothe, Her ich wile have the mete With love or eighe, whather I mai gete!" The levedi swithe wroth with alle Wente hire forth in to the halle And tolde hire lord anon fore, How a man hadde iswore, That he nolde fro the ghete, Er he hadde ther the mete. The geaunt was wonderstrong, Rome thretti fote long; He tok a levour in is hond, And forth to the gate he wond. Of Beves he nam gode hede, Ful wel a knew Beves is stede: "Thow ert nome thef, ywis: Whar stele thow stede Trenchefis, That thow ridest upon here? Hit was me brotheres Grandere!" "Grander," queth Beves, "I yaf hod And made him a kroune brod; Tho he was next under me fest, Wel I wot, ich made him prest, And high dekne ich wile make thee, Er ich ever fro thee te!" Thanne seide the geaunt: "Meister sire, Slough thow me brother Grandere, For al this castel ful of golde A live lete thee ich nolde!" "Ne ich thee," queth Beves, "I trowe!" Thus beginneth grim to growe. The geaunt, that ich spak of er, The staf, that he to fighte ber, Was twenti fote in lengthe be tale, Tharto gret and nothing smale: To Sire Beves a smot therwith A sterne strok withouten grith, Ac a failede of his divis And in the heved smot Trenchefis, That ded to grounde fel the stede. "O," queth Beves, "so God me spede, Thow havest don gret vileinie, Whan thow sparde me bodi And for me gilt min hors aqueld, Thow witest him, that mai nought weld. 9 Be God, I swere thee an oth: Thow schelt nought, whan we tegoth, Laughande me wende fram, Now thow havest mad me gram!" Beves is swerd anon up swapte, He and the geaunt togedre rapte And delde strokes mani and fale: The nombre can I nought telle in tale. The geaunt up is clobbe haf And smot to Beves with is staf, That his scheld flegh from him thore Thre akres brede and sumdel more. Tho was Beves in strong erur And karf ato the grete levour And on the geauntes brest a wonde, That negh a felde him to the grounde. The geaunt thoughte this bataile hard, Anon he drough to him a dart, Thourgh Beves scholder he hit schet, The blod ran doun to Beves fet, Tho Beves segh is owene blod, Out of is wit he wex negh wod, Unto the geaunt ful swithe he ran And kedde that he was doughti man, And smot ato his nekke bon: The geaunt fel to grounde anon. Beves wente in at castel gate, The levedi a mette ther-ate. "Dame!" a seide, "go, yeve me mete, That ever have thow Cristes hete!" The levedi, sore adrad with alle, Ladde Beves in to the halle, And of everiche sonde, That him com to honde, A dede hire ete al ther ferst, That she ne dede him no berst, And drinke ferst of the win, That no poisoun was ther-in. Whan Beves hadde ete inough, A keverchef to him a drough In that ilche stounde, To stope mide is wonde. "Dame, dame," Beves sede, "Let sadele me a gode stede, For hennes ich wile ride, I nel lo lenger her abide!" The levedi seide, she wolde fawe; A gode stede she let forth drawe And sadeled hit and wel adight, And Beves, that hendi knight, Into the sadel a lippte, That no stirop he ne drippte. Forth him wente Sire Bevoun, Til he com withoute the toun In to a grene mede. "Now, loverd Crist," a sede, "Yeve it, Brademond the king, He and al is ofspring, Wer right her upon this grene: Now ich wolde of me tene Swithe wel ben awreke, Scholde he never go ne speke: Now min honger is me aset, Ne liste me never fighten bet!" Forth a wente be the strem, Til a come to Jurisalem; To the patriark a wente cof, And al his lif he him schrof And tolde him how hit was bego, Of is wele and of is wo. The patriark hadde reuthe Of him and ek of is treuthe And forbed him upon his lif, That he never toke wif, Boute she were clene maide. "Nai, for sothe!" Sire Beves saide. On a dai aghenes the eve Of the patriarke he tok is leve; Erliche amorwe, whan it was dai, Forth a wente in is wai; And also a rod himself alone: "Lord," a thoughte, "whar mai I gone? Whar ich in to Ingelonde fare? Nai," a thoughte, "what sholde I thare, Boute yif ichadde ost to gader, For to sle me stifader?" He thoughte, that he wolde an hie In to the londe of Ermonie, To Ermonie, that was is bane, To his lemman Josiane. And also a wente theder right, A mette with a gentil knight, That in the londe of Ermonie Hadde bore him gode companie; Thai kiste hem anon with that And ather askede of otheres stat. Thanne seide Beves and lough: "Ich ave fare hard inough, Sofred bothe honger and chele And other peines mani and fele Thourgh King Ermines gile: Yet ich thenke to yelde is while, For he me sente to Brademond, To have slawe me that stonde: God be thanked, a dede nought so, Ac in is prisoun with meche wo Ichave leie this seven yare, Ac now icham from him ifare Thourgh Godes grace and min engyn, Ac al ich wite it King Ermyn, And, ne wer is doughter Josiane, Sertes, ich wolde ben is bane!" "Josiane," queth the knight, "is a wif Aghen hire wille with meche strif. Seve yer hit is gon and more, That the riche King Yvore To Mombraunt hath hire wedde Bothe to bord and to bedde, And hath the swerd Morgelai And Arondel, the gode palfrai: Ac sithe the time, that I was bore, Swiche game hadde ich never before, Ase ich hadde that ilche tide, Whan I segh King Yvor ride Toward Mombraunt on Arondel; The hors was nought ipaied wel: He arnede awai with the king Thourgh felde and wode, withouten lesing, And in a mure don him cast, Almest he hadde deied in hast. Ac er hii wonne the stede, Ropes in the contré thai leide; Ac never sithe, withoute fable, Ne com the stede out of the stable, So sore he was aneied that tide; Sithe dorste no man on him ride!" For this tiding Beves was blithe, His joie kouthe he no man kithe. "Wer Josiane," a thoughte, "ase lele, Alse is me stede Arondel, Yet scholde ich come out of wo!" And at the knight he askede tho: "Whiderwardes is Mombraunt?" "Sere," a sede, "be Tervagaunt, Thow might nought thus wende forth, Thow most terne al aghen north!" Beves ternede his stede And rod north, Gode spede; Ever a was pasaunt, Til a com to Mombraunt. Mombraunt is a riche cité; In al the londe of Sarsine Nis ther non therto iliche Ne be fele parti so riche. And whan that hende knight Bevoun Come withouten the toun, Tharwith a palmer he mette, And swithe faire he him grette: "Palmer," a sede, "whar is the king?" "Sire," a seide, "an honting With kinges fiftene." "And whar," a seide, "is the quene?" "Sire," a seide, "in hire bour." "Palmer," a seide, "paramour, Yem me thine wede For min and for me stede!" "God yeve it," queth the palmare, "We hadde drive that chefare!" Beves of is palfrei alighte And schrede the palmer as a knighte And yaf him is hors, that he rod in, For is bordon and is sklavin. The palmer rod forth ase a king, And Beves went alse a bretheling. Whan he com to the castel gate, Anon he fond thar-ate Mani palmer thar stonde Of fele kene londe, And he askede hem in that stede, What hii alle thar dede. Thanne seide on, that thar stod: "We beth icome to have gode, And so thow ert also!" "Who," queth Beves, "schel it us do?" "The quene, God hire schilde fro care! Meche she loveth palmare; Al that she mai finden here, Everiche dai in the yere, Faire she wile hem fede And yeve hem riche wede For a knightes love, Bevoun, That was iboren at Southamtoun; To a riche man she wolde him bringe, That kouthe telle of him tiding!" "Whanne," queth Beves, "schel this be don?" A seide: "Betwene middai and noun." Beves, hit ful wel he sai, Hit nas boute yong dai; A thoughte that he wolde er than Wende aboute the barbican, For to loke and for to se, How it mighte best be, Yif he the castel wolde breke, Whar a mighte best in reke; And also a com be a touret, That was in the castel iset, A herde wepe and crie; Thederward he gan him hie. "O allas," she seide, "Bevoun, Hende knight of Southhamtoun, Now ichave bide that day, That to the treste I ne may: That ilche God, that thow of speke, He is fals and thow ert eke!" In al the sevene yer eche dai Josiane, that faire mai, Was woned swich del to make, Al for Sire Beves sake. The levedi gan to the gate te, The palmeres thar to se; And Beves, after anon To the gate he gan gon. The palmers gonne al in threste, Beves abod and was the laste; And whan the maide segh him thar, Of Beves she nas nothing war; "Thee semest," queth she, "man of anour, Thow schelt this dai be priour And beginne oure deis: Thee semest hende and corteis." Mete and drinke thai hadde afyn, Bothe piment and plenté a wyn, Swithe wel thai hadde ifare; Thanne seide the quene to eche palmare: "Herde ever eni of yow telle In eni lede or eni spelle, Or in feld other in toun, Of a knight, Beves of Hamtoun?" "Nai!" queth al that thar ware. "What thow?" she seide, "niwe palmare?" Thanne seide Beves and lough: "That knight ich knowe wel inough! Atom," a seide, "in is contré Icham an erl and also is he; At Rome he made me a spel Of an hors, men clepede Arondel: Wide whar ichave iwent And me warisoun ispent I sought hit bothe fer and ner, Men telleth me, that it is her; Yif ever lovedestow wel that knight, Let me of that hors have a sight!" What helpeth hit, to make fable? She ladde Beves to the stable: Josian beheld him before, She segh his browe to-tore; After Bonefas she gan grede, At stable dore to him she sede; "Be the moder, that me hath bore, Ner this mannes browe to-tore, Me wolde thenke be his fasoun, That hit were Beves of Hamtoun!" Whan that hors herde nevene His kende lordes stevene, His rakenteis he al terof And wente in to the kourt wel kof And neide and made miche pride With gret joie be ech a side. "Allas!" tho queth Josiane, "Wel mani a man is bane To dai he worth ilaught, Er than this stede ben icaught!" Thanne seide Beves and lough: "Ich can take hit wel inough: Wolde ye," a sede, "yeve me leve, Hit ne scholde no man greve!' "Take hit thanne," she sede, "And in to stable thow it lede And teie it thar it stod, And thow schelt have mede gode!" Beves to the hors tegh; Tho the hors him knew and segh. He ne wawede no fot, Til Beves hadde the stirop; Beves in to the sadel him threw, Tharbi that maide him wel knew. Anon seide Josian with than: "O Beves, gode lemman, Let me with thee reke In that maner, we han ispeke, And thenk, thow me to wive tok, Whan ich me false godes forsok: Now thow hast thin hors Arondel, Thee swerd ich thee fette schel, And let me wende with thee sithe Hom in to thin owene kithe!" Queth Beves: "Be Godes name, Ichave for thee sofred meche schame, Lain in prisoun swithe strong: Yif ich thee lovede, hit were wrong! The patriark me het upon me lif, That I ne tok never wif, Boute she were maide clene; And thow havest seve year ben a quene, And everi night a king be thee: How mightow thanne maide be?" "Merci," she seide, "lemman fre, Led me hom to thee contré, And boute thee finde me maide wimman, Be that eni man saie can, Send me aghen to me fon Al naked in me smok alon!" Beves seide: "So I schel, In that forward I graunte wel!" Bonefas to Sire Beves sede: "Sire, thee is beter do be rede! The king cometh sone fro honting And with him mani a riche king, Fiftene told al in tale, Dukes and erles mani and fale. Whan hii fonde us alle agon, Thai wolde after us everichon With wondergret chevalrie, And do us schame and vileinie; Ac formeste, sire, withouten fable, Led Arondel in to the stable, And ate the gate thow him abide, Til the king cometh bi the ride; A wile thee asken at the frome, Whider thow schelt and whannes thow come; Sai, that thow havest wide iwent, And thow come be Dabilent, That is hennes four jurné: Sai, men wile ther the king sle, Boute him come help of sum other; And King Yvor is his brother, And whan he hereth that tiding, Theder a wile an highing With al is power and is ost: Thanne mai we with lite bost Forth in oure wei go!" Beves seide: "It schel be so!" And Arondel to stable lad, Ase Bonefas him bad; And to the gate Beves yode With other beggers, that ther stode, And pyk and skrippe be is side, In a sklavin row and wide; His berd was yelw, to is brest wax And to his gerdel heng is fax. Al thai seide, that hii ne sighe So faire palmer never with eighe, Ne com ther non in that contré: Thus wondred on him that him gan se; And so stod Beves in that thring, Til noun belle began to ring. Fram honting com the King Yvore, And fiftene kinges him before, Dukes and erles, barouns how fale I can nought telle the righte tale. Mervaile thai hadde of Beves alle. Yvor gan Beves to him calle And seide: "Palmer, thow comst fro ferre: Whar is pes and whar is werre? Trewe tales thow canst me sain." Thanne answerde Beves again: "Sire, ich come fro Jurisalem Fro Nazareth and fro Bedlem, Emauns castel and Synaie; Ynde, Erop, and Asie, Egippte, Grese, and Babiloine, Tars, Sesile and Sesaoine, In Fris, in Sodeine and in Tire, In Aufrik and in mani empire, Ac al is pes thar ichave went, Save in the lond of Dabilent. In pes mai no man come thare, Thar is werre, sorwe and care. Thre kinges and dukes five His chevalrie adoun ginneth drive, And meche other peple ischent, Cites itake and tounes ibrent; Him to a castel thai han idrive, That stant be the se upon a clive, And al the ost lith him aboute, Be this to daie a is in doute," King Yvor seide: "Allas, allas, Lordinges, this is a sori cas! That is me brother, ye witen wel, That lith beseged in that castel: To hors and armes, lasse and more, In haste swithe, that we wer thore!" Thai armede hem anon bedene, Yvor and his kinges fiftene, And to the Cité of Diablent Alle samen forth they went. But an old king, that hight Garcy, At home he lefte to kepe the lady. Thoo seid Beves: "Make yow yare, Yif that ye wille with me fare!" Sir Bonefas answered thoo: "Yif ye wil by my consaile do: Here is an olde king Garcy, That muche can of nygremancy; He may see in his goldryng, What any man dooth in alle thing. I know an erbe in the forest. Now wille I sende therafter prest And let brochen Reynessh wyne And do that yerbe anoon therynne, And what he be, that ther-of doth drynke, He shal lerne for to wynke And slepe anon after ryght Al a day and al a nyght." Sir Bonefas dide al this thing; They resen up in the dawnyng; Inowgh they toke what they wolde, Both of silver and of golde, And other tresoure they toke also, And in hur way they gunne goo. And when they were went away, Garcy awaked a morow day And had wonder swith stronge, That he hadde slept so longe. His ryng he gan to him tee, For to loke and for to see; And in his ryng say he thare, The queene awey with the palmer was fare. To his men he grad ryght: "As armes, lordinges, for to fyght!" And tolde his folke, verament, How the queene was awey went. They armed hem in ryche wede And every knyght lep on his stede, And after went al that route And besette hem al aboute. Thenne seide Beves to Bonefas: "Kepe wel Josian at this cas, And I wil wynde to bataile, Garcy and his ost assaile. I wil fonde, what I do may, I have rested me moony a day. Fyght, I will now my fylle And hem overcom by Goddes wille!" Tho Bonefas to him saide: "Sir, yow is better do by my reed: Ye shal be in the lasse dout, For I know the contré al about; I can bryng yow in to a cave, There a sheparde with a stave, Theyghe men hadden his deth sworn, He myght him kepe wel therforn!" Into the cave he hath hem brought; Garcy, the Kyng, hem couth fynde nought, Therfore him was swith woo; He and his ost bethought hem thoo, Hoom agheyn for to wende And sende Ascopart hem to shende. In the cave they were al nyght Withoute mete or drynke, aplyght. Twoo dayes it was goon, That mete ne drynke had they noon. Josian was afyngered soore And told anoon Beves therfore. Beves seid, "How darst thou of me meete crave? Wel thou wotest, that noon I have." Josian answered sone anoon And bade Sir Beves to wood goon: I have herde of savagenes, Whenne yonge men were in wyldernes, That they toke hert and hinde And other bestes, that they myght fynde; They slowen hem and soden hem in her hide; Thus doon men that in wood abyde. Sir, thou myghtest bestes lyghtly take, For sause good I wyl thee make!" Beves seide to Bonefas than: "I pray thee kepe wel Josian, The while I wynde into the forest, For to take sum wylde beest!" Forth went Beves in that forest, Beestes to sheete he was ful prest. Als sone as he was forth yfare, Two lyouns ther com yn thare, Grennand and rampand with her feet. Sir Bonefas then als skeet His hors to him thoo he drowgh And armyd him wel ynowgh And yave the lyouns bataile to fyght; Al to lytel was his myght. The twoo lyouns sone had sloon That oon his hors, that other the man. Josian into the cave gan shete, And the twoo lyouns at hur feete, Grennand on hur with muche grame, But they ne myght do hur no shame, For the kind of lyouns, ywis, A kynges doughter, that maide is, Kinges doughter, quene and maide both, The lyouns myght do hur noo wroth. Beves com sone fro huntyng With three hertes, without lesyng, And fonde an hors gnawe to the boon, And Josian awey was goon. He sowned soone for sorow and thought, Fro cave to cave he her sought, To wete how that cas myght be, And in a cave he gan to see, Where Josain sate in grete doute And twoo lions hur about. Too Sir Beves gan she speke: "Sir, thyn help, me to awreke Of these two liouns, that thy chamberleyn, Ryght now han him slayn!" She seide, she wolde that oon hoolde, While that he that other quelde. Aboute the nekke she hent that oon, And Beves bade let him goon, And seide: "Dame, forsoth, ywys, I myght yelp of lytel prys, There I had a lyon quelde, The while a woman another helde! Thow shalt never umbraide me, When thou comest hoom to my contré: But thou let hem goo both twoo, Have good day, fro thee I goo!" She let hem skip up and doun, And Beves assailed the lyoun. Strenger bataile ne strenger fyght Herde ye never of no knyght Byfore this in romaunce telle, Than Beves had of beestes felle. Al that herkeneth word and ende, To hevyn mot her sowles wende! That oon was a lionesse, That Sir Bevis dide grete distresse; At the first begynnyng To Beves hondes she gan spryng And al to peces rent hem there, Or Beves myght ther-of be werre. That other lyon, that Josian gan holde, To fight with Beves was ful bold; He ran to him with grete randon And with his pawes he rent adoun His armour almost to ground, And in his thyghe a wel grete wound. Tho was Beves in hert grame, For the lioun had do him shame; As he were wood, he gan to fyght; The lionesse seyghe that sight And raught to Beves, without faile, Both at oones they gan him assaile. Thoo was Beves, in strong tempestes, So strong and egre were these beestes, That nyghe they hadde him there queld; Unnethe he kept him with his shelde. With Morgelay, that wel wold byte, To the lioun he gan smyte; His ryght foot he shore asonder, Sir Beves shilde the Lyoun ranne under And with his teeth with sory happe He kitte a pece of his lappe, And Beves that ilke stounde For anguysse fel to the grounde, And hastely Beves than up stert, For he was grevyd in his hert; He kyd wel tho, he was agrevyd, And clef a twoo the lyon is hevyd, And to his hert the poynt thrast; Thus the lioun died at the last. Stoutliche the liounesse than Asailede Beves, that doughti man, And with hire mouth is scheld tok So sterneliche, saith the bok, That doun it fel of is left hond. Tho Josian gan understonde, That hire lord scholde ben slawe; Helpe him she wolde fawe. Anon she hente that lioun: Beves bad hire go sitte adoun, And swor be God in Trinité, Boute she lete that lioun be, A wolde hire sle in that destresse Ase fain ase the liounesse. Tho she ne moste him nought helpe fighte, His scheld she broughte him anon righte And yede hire sitte adoun, saun faile, And let him worthe in that bataile. The liounesse was stout and sterne, Aghen to Beves she gan erne And be the right leg she him grep, Ase the wolf doth the schep, That negh she braide out is sparlire; Tho was Beves in gret yre, And in that ilche selve veneu Thourgh Godes grace and is vertu The liounesse so harde he smot With Morgelai, that biter bot Evene upon the regge an high, That Morgelai in therthe fligh. Tho was Josian ful fain, Tho that hii were bothe slain, And Beves was glad and blithe, His joie ne kouthe he no man kithe, And ofte he thankede the king in glori Of his grace and is viktori; Ac wo him was for Bonefas, And tho he segh, non other it nas, A sette Josian upon a mule And ride forth a lite while, And metten with a geaunt With a lotheliche semlaunt. He was wonderliche strong, Rome thretti fote long; His berd was bothe gret and rowe; A space of fot betwene is browe; His clob was, to yeve a strok, A lite bodi of an ok. Beves hadde of him wonder gret And askede him, what a het, And yef men of his contré Were ase meche ase was he. "Me name," a sede, "is Ascopard: Garci me sente hiderward, For to bringe this quene aghen And thee, Beves, her of-slen. Icham Garci is chaumpioun And was idrive out of me toun; Al for that ich was so lite, Everi man me wolde smite; Ich was so lite and so merugh, Everi man me clepede dwerugh, And now icham in this londe, Iwoxe mor, ich understonde, And strengere than other tene, And that schel on us be sene; I schel thee sle her, yif I mai!" "Thourgh Godes help," queth Beves, "nai!" Beves prikede Arondel a side, Aghen Ascopard he gan ride And smot him on the scholder an high, That his spere al to-fligh, And Ascopard with a retret Smot after Beves a dent gret, And with is o fot a slintte And fel with is owene dentte. Beves of is palfrai alighte And drough his swerd anon righte And wolde have smiten of is heved; Josian besoughte him, it were beleved: "Sire," she seide, "so God thee save, Let him liven and ben our knave!" "Dame, a wile us betrai!" "Sire, ich wil ben is bourgh, nai!" Thar a dede Beves omage And becom is owene page. Forth thai wenten alle thre, Til that hii come to the se; A dromond hii fonde ther stonde, That wolde in to hethene londe, With Sarasines stout and fer, Boute thai nadde no maroner. Tho hii sighe Ascopard come, Hii thoughten wel, alle and some, He wolde hem surliche hem lede, For he was maroner god at nede. Whan he in to the schipe cam, His gode bat an honde he nam, A drof hem out and dede hem harm, Arondel a bar to schip in is arm, And after in a lite while Josian and hire mule, And drowen up saile al so snel And sailede forth faire and wel, That hii come withouten ensoine To the haven of Coloine. Whan he to londe kem, Men tolde, the bischop was is em, A noble man wis afin And highte Saber Florentin. Beves grete him at that cas And tolde him what he was. The beschop was glad afin And seide: "Wolkome, leve cosin! Gladder I nas, sethe ich was bore, Ich wende, thow haddest be forlore. Who is this levedi schene?" "Sire, of hethenesse a quene, And she wile, for me sake, Cristendome at thee take." "Who is this with the grete visage?" "Sire," a sede, "hit is me page And wile ben icristnede also, And ich bidde, that ye hit do!" The nexste dai after than The beschop cristnede Josian. For Ascopard was mad a kove; Whan the beschop him scholde in schove, A lep anon upon the benche And seide: "Prest, wiltow me drenche? The devel yeve thee helle pine, Icham to meche te be cristine!" After Josian is cristing Beves dede a gret fighting, Swich bataile dede never non Cristene man of flesch ne bon, Of a dragoun ther be side, That Beves slough ther in that tide, Save Sire Launcelet de Lake, He faught with a fur drake And Wade dede also, And never knightes boute thai to, And Gy a Warwik, ich understonde, Slough a dragoun in NorthHomberlonde. How that ilche dragoun com ther, Ich wile yow telle, in what maner. Thar was a king in Poyle land And another in Calabre, ich understonde; This twe kinge foughte ifere More than foure and twenti yere, That hii never pes nolde, Naither for selver ne for golde, And al the contré, saundoute, Thai distruede hit al aboute; Thai hadde mani mannes kours, Wharthourgh hii ferden wel the wors; Tharfore hii deide in dedli sinne And helle pine thai gan hem winne. After in a lite while Thai become dragouns vile, And so thai foughte dragouns ifere Mor than foure and thretti yere. An ermite was in that londe, That was feld of Godes sonde; To Jesu Crist a bed a bone, That he dilivre the dragouns sone Out of that ilche stede, That hii namore harm ne dede. And Jesu Crist, that sit in hevene, Wel herde that ermites stevene And grauntede him is praiere. Anon the dragouns bothe ifere Toke here flight and flowe awai, Thar never eft man hem ne sai. That on flegh anon with than, Til a com to Toscan. That other dragoun is flight nome To Seinte Peter is brige of Rome; Thar he schel leggen ay, Til hit come Domes Dai. And everi seve yer ones, Whan the dragoun moweth is bones, Than cometh a roke and a stink Out of the water under the brink, That men ther-of taketh the fevere, That never after mai he kevere; And who that nel nought leve me, Wite at pilgrimes that ther hath be, For thai can telle yow, iwis, Of that dragoun how it is. That other thanne flegh an highe Thourgh Toskan and Lombardie, Thourgh Province, withouten ensoine, Into the londe of Coloyne; Thar the dragoun gan arive At Coloyne under a clive. His eren were rowe and ek long, His frount before hard and strong; Eighte toskes at is mouth stod out, The leste was seventene ench about, The her, the cholle under the chin, He was bothe leith and grim; A was imaned ase a stede; The heved a bar with meche pride, Betwene the scholder and the taile Foure and twenti fot, saunfaile. His taile was of gret stringethe, Sextene fot a was a lingthe; His bodi ase a wintonne. Whan hit schon the brighte sonne, His wingges schon so the glas. His sides wer hard ase eni bras. His brest was hard ase eni ston; A foulere thing nas never non. Ye, that wile a stounde dwelle, Of his stringethe I mai yow telle. Beves yede to bedde a night With torges and with candel light. Whan he was in bedde ibrought, On Jesu Crist was al is thought. Him thoughte, a king, that was wod, Hadde wonded him ther a stod; He hadde wonded him biter and sore, A wende a mighte leve namore, And yet him thoughte a virgine Him broughte out of al is pine. Whan he of is slep abraid, Of is swevene he was afraid. Thanne a herde a reuli cri, And besoughte Jesu merci: "For the venim is on me throwe, Her I legge al to-blowe, And roteth me flesch fro the bon, Bote ne tit me never non!" And in is cri a seide: "Allas, That ever yet I maked was!" Anon whan hit was dai light, Beves awakede and askede right, What al that cri mighte ben. His men him answerde aghen And seide, that he was a knight, In bataile he was holden wight; Alse a wente him to plaie Aboute her in this contrai, In this contré aviroun A mette with a vile dragoun, And venim he hath on him throwe: Thar a lith al to-blowe! "Lord Crist," queth Beves tho, "Mai eni man the dragoun slo!" His men answerde, withouten lesing: "Thar nis neither emperur ne king, That come thar the dragoun wore, An hondred thosend men and more, That he nolde slen hem everichon, Ne scholde hii never thannes gon." "Ascopard," a seide, "whar ertow?" "Icham her; what wilte now?" "Wile we to the dragoun gon? Thourgh Godes help we scholle him slo!" "Ya, sire, so mot I the, Bletheliche wile I wende with thee!" Beves armede him ful wel, Bothe in yrene and in stel, And gerte him with a gode bronde And tok a spere in is honde. Out ate gate he gan ride, And Ascopard be his side. Alse hii wente in here pleghing, Hii speke of mani selkouth thing. That dragoun lai in is den And segh come the twei men; A made a cri and a wonder, Ase hit were a dent of thonder. Ascopard was adrad so sore, Forther dorste he go namore; A seide to Beves, that was is fere: "A wonderthing ye mai here!" Beves saide: "Have thow no doute, The dragoun lith her aboute; Hadde we the dragoun wonne, We hadde the feireste pris under sonne!" Ascopard swor, be Sein Jon, A fot ne dorste he forther gon. Beves answerde and seide tho; "Ascopard, whi seistow so? Whi schelt thow afered be Of thing that thow might nought sen?" A swor, alse he moste then, He nolde him neither hire ne sen: "Icham weri, ich mot have reste: Go now forth and do the beste!" Thanne seide Beves this wordes fre: "Schame hit is, to terne aghe. A smot his stede be the side, Aghen the dragoun he gan ride, The dragoun segh, that he cam Yenande aghenes him anan, Yenande and gapande on him so, Ase he wolde him swolwe tho. Whan Beves segh that ilche sight, The dragoun of so meche might, Hadde therthe opnede anon, For drede a wolde ther in han gon; A spere he let to him glide And smot the dragoun on the side; The spere sterte aghen anon, So the hail upon the ston, And to-barst on pices five. His swerd he drough alse blive; Tho thai foughte, alse I yow sai, Til it was high noun of the dai. The dragoun was atened stronge, That o man him scholde stonde so longe; The dragoun harde him gan asaile And smot his hors with the taile Right amideward the hed, That he fel to grounde ded. Now is Beves to grounde brought, Helpe him God, that alle thing wrought! Beves was hardi and of gode hert, Aghen the dragoun anon a stert And harde him a gan asaile, And he aghen with strong bataile; So betwene hem leste that fight Til it was the therke night. Beves hadde thanne swich thrast, Him thoughte his herte to-brast; Thanne segh he a water him beside, So hit mighte wel betide, Fain a wolde theder flen, He ne dorste fro the dragoun ten; The dragoun asailede him fot hot, With is taile on his scheld a smot, That hit clevede hevene ato, His left scholder dede also. Beves was hardi and of gode hert, Into the welle anon a stert. Lordinges, herkneth to me now: The welle was of swich vertu: A virgine wonede in that londe, Hadde bathede in, ich understonde; That water was so holi, That the dragoun, sikerli, Ne dorste neghe the welle aboute Be fourti fote, saundoute. Whan Beves parsevede this, Wel glad a was in hertte, iwis; A dede of is helm of stel And colede him ther in fraiche wel, And of is helm a drank thore A large galon other more. A nemenede Sein Gorge, our levedi knight, And sete on his helm, that was bright; And Beves with eger mode Out of the welle sone a yode; The dragoun harde him asaile gan, He him defendeth ase a man. So betwene hem leste the fight, Til hit sprong the dai light, Whan Beves mighte aboute sen, Blithe he gan thanne ben; Beves on the dragoun hew, The dragoun on him venim threw; Al ferde Beves bodi there A foule mesel alse yif a were; Thar the venim on him felle, His flesch gan ranclen and tebelle, Thar the venim was icast, His armes gan al to-brast; Al to-brosten is ventaile, And of his hauberk a thosend maile. Thanne Beves, sone an highe Wel loude he gan to Jesu criye: "Lord, that rerede the Lazaroun, Dilivre me fro this fend dragoun!" Tho he segh his hauberk toren, "Lord!" a seide, "That I was boren!" That seide Beves, thar a stod, And leide on, ase he wer wod; The dragoun harde him gan asaile And smot on the helm with is taile, That his helm clevede ato, And his bacinet dede also. Tweies a ros and tweis a fel, The thredde tim overthrew in the wel; Thar-inne a lai up right; A neste, whather hit was dai other night. Whan overgon was his smerte And rekevred was of is hertte, Beves sette him up anon; The venim was awei igon; He was ase hol a man Ase he was whan he theder cam. On is knes he gan to falle, To Jesu Crist he gan to calle: "Help," a seide, "Godes sone, That this dragoun wer overcome! Boute ich mowe the dragoun slon Er than ich hennes gon, Schel hit never aslawe be For no man in Cristenté!" To God he made his praiere And to Marie, his moder dere; That herde the dragoun, ther a stod, And flegh awei, ase he wer wod. Beves ran after, withouten faile, And the dragoun he gan asaile; With is swerd, that he out braide, On the dragoun wel hard a laide, And so harde a hew him than, A karf ato his heved pan, And hondred dentes a smot that stonde, Er he mighte kerven a wonder, A hitte him so on the cholle And karf ato the throte bolle. The dragoun lai on is side, On him a yenede swithe wide. Beves thanne with strokes smerte Smot the dragoun to the herte, An hondred dentes a smot in on, Er the heved wolde fro the bodi gon, And the gode knight Bevoun The tonge karf of the dragoun; Upon the tronsoun of is spere The tonge a stikede for to bere. A wented tho withouten ensoine Toward the toun of Coloine. Thanne herde he belles ringe, Prestes, clerkes loude singe; A man ther he hath imet, And swithe faire he hath him gret, And asked that ilche man tho, Whi thai ronge and songe so. "Sire," a seide, "withouten faile, Beves is ded in bataile; Tharfore, for sothe I saie thee: Hit is Beves dirige!" "Nai," queth Beves, "be Sein Martin!" And wente to Bischop Florentin. Tho the bischop hadde of him a sight, A thankede Jesu ful of might And broughte Beves in to the toun With a faire prosesioun; Thanne al the folk that thar was, Thankede Jesu of that gras. On a dai Sire Beves sede: "Leve em, what is to rede Of me stifader Devoun That holdeth me londes at Hamtoun?" The beschop seide anon right: "Kosin, Saber, thin em, is in Wight, And everi yer on a dai certaine Upon th'emperur of Almaine He ginneth gret bataile take, Beves, al for thine sake; He weneth wel, that thow be ded; Tharfore, kosin, be me red, An hondred men ich yeve thee wighte, Aghen th'emperur to fighte, Stalworde men and fer, And thow schelt wende te Saber: Sai, ich grette him wel ilome! Yif ye han nede, sendeth to me, Ich wile yow helpe with al me might, Aghen th'emperur to fight. While thow dost this ilche tourne, The levedi schel with me sojurne, And the page Ascopard Schel hire bothe wite and ward." Forth wente Beves with than To his lemman Josian: "Lemman," a seide, "ich wile go And avenge me of me fo, Yif ich mighte with eni ginne Me kende eritage to winne!" "Swete lemman," Josian sede, "Who schel me thanne wisse and rede?" Beves sede "Lemman min, Min em, the Bischop Florentin, And Ascopard, me gode page, Schel thee warde fro damage." "Ye, have ich Ascopard," she sede, Of no man ne stant me drede; Ich take thee God and seinte Marie: Sone so thow might, to me thow highe!" Beves wente forth anon With is men everichon, That the bischop him hadde yeve. So longe thai hadde here wei idrive, That hii come upon a done, A mile out of South Hamtone. "Lordinges," to his men a sede, "Ye scholle do be mine rede! Have ich eni so hardi on, That dorre to Hamtoun gon, To th'emperur of Almaine, And sai: her cometh a vintaine, Al prest an hondred knighte That fore his love wilen fighte Both with spere and with launce, Al fresch icome out of Fraunce! Ac ever, an erneste and a rage, Ever speketh Frensche laungage, And sai, ich hatte Gerard, And fighte ich wile be forward, And of the meistri icham sure, Yif he wile yilde min hure?" Forth ther com on redi reke, That renabliche kouthe Frensch speke; "Sire," a seide, "ich wile gon, The mesage for to don anon!" Forth a wente to the castel gate The porter a mette ther-ate, To th'emperur he hath him lad, Al a seide, ase Beves him bad. Th'emperur and Beves sete ifere That ilche night at the sopere; Th'emperur askede him, what a het; "Gerard!" a seide alse sket "Gerard!" a seide, "for soth iwis, This levedi hadde her er this An erl to lord, er ich hire wedde, A sone betwene hem to thai hadde, A proud wreche and a ying, And for sothe a lite gadling; So was is fader of proud mode, Icomen of sum lether blode; His sone, that was a proud garsoun, Men him clepede Bevoun; Sone he was of age, A solde me his eritage And spente his panes in scham and schonde, And sithe flegh out of Ingelonde. Now hath he her an em in Wight, Sire Saber, a wel strong knight, And cometh with gret barnage And cleimeth his eritage, And ofte me doth her gret gile, And thow might yilden is while, Him to sle with swerd in felde, Wel ich wolde thin here yelde!" "Sire," queth Beves anon right, "Ichave knightes of meche might, That beth unarmed her of wede, For we ne mighte non out lede Over the se withouten aneighe; Tharfore, sire, swithe an highe Let arme me knightes echon, And yef hem gode hors forth enon, An hondred men sent thow thee self, Ase mani ichave be min helf, Dight me the schip and thin men bothe, And I schel swere thee an othe, That I schel yeve swiche asaut On that ilche Sabaaut, That withinne a lite while Thow schelt here of a queinte gile!" Al thus th'emperur hath him dight Bothe hors, armes, and knight, Tharto schipes with gode vitaile; Forth thai wente and drowe saile. In the schipe the knightes seten, ywis, On of here, another of his. Whan thai come amidde the forde, Ech threw is felawe over the bord; Of th'emperures knightes everichon Withinne bord ne levede non. Saber hem ful wel ysay, Ase he upon his toure lay, Mani baner he segh arered. Tho was Saber sumdel afered, That th'emperur with is ost come, Biker he made wel ylome. Beves wiste wel and sede, That Saber him wolde drede; Upon the higheste mast is top there He let sette up a stremere Of his fader armure, Saber the rather to make sure, For mani a time thar beforen He hadde hit in to bataile boren. Tho the schip to londe drough, Saber hit knew wel inough And thoughte and gan to understonde, That Beves was come inte Ingelonde. "Lord," a sede, "hered Thow be, That ich mai me kende lord se: That he wer ded, ich was ofdrad, Meche sorwe ichave for him had." A wente with is knightes blive, Thar the schipes scholde arive; Either other gan to kisse, And made meche joie and blisse, And Beves tolde him in a while, He hadde do th'emperur a gile. Tho seide Beves with than: "Have ich eni so hardi man, That dorre to Hamtoun gon Over the water sone anon, And sai th'emperur anon right, That I nam no Frensche knight, Ne that I ne hatte nought Gerard, That made with him the forward, And sai him, ich hatte Bevoun, And cleymeth the seinori of Hamtoun, And that is wif is me dame, That schel hem bothe terne to grame; Now of hem bothe togadre I schel fonde wreke me fadre?" Up thar sterte an hardi on: "Sire," a seide, "ich wile gon, The mesage fordoth hem bothe, And maken hem sori and wrothe." Forth a wente ase hot Over the water in a bot, Forth a wente also whate In at the castel gate; At the soper alse a set, Th'emperur he gan thus gret: "Sire emperur, I thee bringe A swithe sertaine tiding: Wel the grete that ilche knight, That sopede with thee yerstene night; A saith a hatte nought Gerard, That made with thee the forward; A saith, that he hatte Bevoun And cleymeth the seinori of Hamtoun, And is icome with thee to speke, Of his fader deth to ben awreke, Thee te sle with schame and schonde And for to winne is owene londe." Th'emperur herde of him that word, His sone stod before the bord; He thoughte with is longe knif Bereve that mesageres lif; A threw is knif and kouthe nought redi And smot his sone thourgh the bodi. The mesager spak a gainli word Before th'emperur is bord: "Thow gropedest the wif anight to lowe, Thow might nought sen aright to throwe; Thow havest so swonke on hire to night, Thow havest negh forlore the sight: Her thow havest lither haunsel, A worse thee betide schel!" And smot is hors with the spore And arnde out at halle dore; Wel and faire he hath him dight And com aghen to Beves in Wight And tolde a slough is sone for grame; Beves lough and hadde gode game. Lete we with Sire Beves thanne And speke of Josiane, That in Coloine was with Beves em, Til that he aghen theder kem. In that londe that ilche while Thar wonede an erl, that highte Mile: To Josian he hadde his love cast And gan hire to wowen fast, Faire a spak to terne hire thought, And she seide a was aboute nought. That erl was wroth in is manere, For Josian him nolde here, And spak to hire with loude gret: "For wham," a seide, "scholde ich it lete, Boute ich mai have of thee me wille? Ich wile," a seide, "who that nille!" 10 She seide: "While ichave Ascopard, Of thee nam ich nothing afard, For thee wrethe ne for thin ost, Ne for thee ne for thine bost!" And tho thoughte that Erl Mile To do Josian a gile: A leter he let for to write, In this maner he dede adite, That Ascopard come scholde To Beves, thar the letter him tolde, In to a castel in an yle, The brede of the water thre mile; To Ascopard thai come snel; Thai seide, Beves him grette wel And besoughte, for is love In haste a scholde to him come. Forth wente Ascopard ase hot Over the water in a bot; Whan he was over the water come, Hii unlek the ghate at the frome; And whan he was comen withinne, Thai sperede him faste with ginne. Aghen to Josiane Miles gan terne: "For wham," a seide, "schel ich it werne?" She thoughte for to kepe hire, aplight, She sente a masager to Wight, To Beves, be letter and tolde fore Al togedre lasse and more. Miles wolde have is wille And she bed him holde stille: "Nought, thegh I scholde lese me lif, Boute ich were thee weddede wif; Yif eni man me scholde wedde, Thanne mot ich go with him to bedde. I trow, he is nought now here, That schel be me weddefere!" "I schel thee wedde aghenes thee wille, Tomorwe I schel hit fulfille!" And kiste hire anon right And sente after baroun and knight And bed hem come leste and meste, To anoure that meri feste. The night is gon, that dai comen is, The spusaile don hit is With merthe in that toun And joie of erl and baroun. And whan hit drough toward the night, Here soper was ther redi dight, And thegh thai richelich weren ifed, That erl wolde ben abed. Josian he het lede to bour, To have hire under covertour; Upon hire bedde ther she sat, That erl com to hire with that, With knightes gret compainie With pyment and with spisorie, With al the gamen that hii hedde, For to make hire dronke a bedde; Ac al another was hire thought, Ne gamnede hire that gle right nought. "Sire," she seide to that erl sone, "Ich bidde thow graunte me a bone, And boute thow graunte me this one, I ne schel thee never bedde none. Ich bidde thee at the ferste frome, That man ne wimman her in come; Belok hem thar-oute for love o me, That no man se our privité! Wimmen beth schamfast in dede And namliche maidenes," sche sede. That erl seide a wolde faine. A drof out bothe knight and swaine, Levedies, maidenes, and grome, That non ne moste ther-in come, And schette the dore with the keie. Litel a wende have be so veie. Josian he com aghen to: "Lemman," a seide, "ichave ido, Thee bone ichave do with lawe, Me schon I mot me self of drawe, As I never yet ne dede." Adoun a set him in that stede; Thanne was before his bed itight, Ase fele han of this gentil knight, A covertine on raile tre, For no man scholde on bed ise. Josian bethoughte on highing, On a towaile she made knotte riding, Aboute his nekke she hit threw And on the raile tre she drew; Be the nekke she hath him up tight And let him so ride al the night. Josian lai in hire bed. No wonder, though she wer adred. Dai is come in alle wise, A morwe the barouns gonne arise Sum to honten and sum to cherche, And werkmen gonne for to werche. The sonne schon, hit drough to under, The barouns thar-of hadde wonder; That th'erl lai so longe a bed, Gret wonder thar-of he hedde. Queth sum: "Let him lie stille! Of Josian he hath al is wille." Middai com, hit drough te noune, The barouns speke ther eft soune: Queth the boldeste: "How mai this be? Wende ich wile up and ise!" That baroun dorste wel speke, To the chaumber he gan reke And smot the dore with is honde, That al wide opun it wonde. "Awake," a seide, "Sire Erl Mile, Thow havest sleped so longe while, Thin heved oweth to ake wel: Dame, let make him a caudel!" "Nai," queth Josian at that sake, "Never eft ne schel his heved ake! Ichave so tyled him for that sore, Schel hit never eft ake more, Yerstendai he me wedded with wrong And tonight ichave him honge. Doth be me al youre wille, Schel he never eft wimman spille!" Al hii made meche sorwe; Anon rightes in that morwe Sum hire demte thanne In a tonne for to branne. Withoute the toun hii pighte a stake, Thar the fur was imake, The tonne thai hadde ther iset, Thai fette wode and elet. Ascopard withinne the castel lay, The tonne and al the folk he say; Ful wel him thoughte that while, That him trokede a gret gile, For he was in the castel beloke, The castel wal he hath tobroken; He was maroner wel gode, A stertte in to the salte flode, A fischer he segh fot hot, Ever a swam toward the bot. The fischer wende, sum fend it were, Out of is bot he flegh for fere. Ascopard hente the bot an honde And rew himself to the londe, Toward the fur faste a schok, Beves com and him oftok: "Treitour," a seide, "whar hastow be? This dai thow havest betraied me!" "Nai, sire!" Ascopard seide, And tolde, Miles him hadde betraide. Toward the fur thai wente blive: The prest, that hire scholde schrive, Godes blessing mote he fonge, For that he held Josiane so longe! In hire smok she stod naked, Thar the fur was imaked; Ase men scholde hire forbrenne, Beves on Arondel com renne With is swerd Morgelay; Ascopard com be another way, And slowen in that ilche stounde Al that hii aboute the fur founde, And that he hadde for is while, That proude erl, Sire Mile. A sette Josian on is palfrai, And wente forth in here wai; Thai wente to schip anon righte And sailede forth in to Wighte. Wel was Saber paid with than Of Ascopard and of Josian. Beves and Saber sente here sonde Wide in to fele londe, And hii sente an hie After gret chevalrie, Of al the londe the stringeste knighte, That hii owhar finde mighte. That emperur negh daide, His wif confortede him and saide: "Sire," she seide, "doute yow nought! Of gode consaile icham bethought: Ye scholle sende, for sertaine, After your ost in to Almaine, And whan your ost is come togadre, Send to the King of Scotlonde, me fadre; He wile come to thee an highe With wondergret chevalrie, That thow derst have no sore Of that thef, Saber the hore, Ne of Beves, that is me lothe: Yit ye schollen hem hangen bothe!" Tho the letters were yare, The masegers wer forth ifare. In Mai, whan lef and gras ginth springe, And the foules merie to singe, The King of Scotlonde com to fighte With thretti thosend of hardi knighte Of Almaine, is owene barouny, With wonder-gret chevalry. "Lordinges," a seide, "ye witeth alle," Whan hii were before him in the halle, "That ofte this thef, Saber the hore, Me hath aneied swithe sore. Now is him come help to fighte, Beves of Hamtoun, an hardi knighte, To Sarasins was solde gon longe; Ich wende he hadde ben anhonge. He me threteth for to slen And for to winne is londe aghen; With him he hath a geaunt brought: Erthliche man semeth he nought, Ne no man of flesch ne felle, Boute a fend stolen out of helle; Ascopart men clepeth him ther oute, Of him ichave swithe gret doute. Ac, lordinges," a seide, "arme ye wel, We scholle besege hem in here castel; The Ascopard be strong and sterk, Mani hondes maketh light werk!" Forth thai wenten ase snel, Til thai come to the castel Thar Saber and Beves weren inne. Thai pighte pavilouns and bente ginne. Saber stod on is tour an high, Al that grete ost a sigh; Gret wonder ther of he hade, The holi crois before him he made And swor be his berde hore, Hit scholde some of hem rewe sore. Saber doun of his tour went, After al is knightes a sent: "Has armes, lordinges!" he gan segge, "Th'emperur ther oute us wile belegge. Make we thre vintaine, That be gode and certaine! The ferste ich wile me self out lede, And thow that other, Beves!" a sede, "And Ascopard the thredde schel have With is gode, grete stave. Be we thre upon the grene, Wel ich wot and nought ne wene: Mani man is thar oute kete, This dai schel is lif forlete!" Saber is horn began to blowe, That his ost him scholde knowe. "Lordinges," a seide, "ne doute yow nought, Ye scholle this dai be holde so dought, That hem were beter at Rome, Thanne hii hadde hider icome." Tho th'emperur herde in castel blowe, Tharbi he gan to knowe, That hii armede hem in the castel; His knightes he het ase snel: "Has armes, lordinges, to bataile! Out hii cometh, us to asaile." Twei ostes thai gonne make, He of Scotlonde hath on itake, Th'emperur that other ladde: His deth that dai ther he hadde. Out of the castel cam before Saber with is berde hore, And in is compainie Thre hondred knightes hardie. Sire Morice of Mounclere His stede smot aghenes Sabere; His spere was sumdel kene, And Saber rod him aghene: Though is spere wer scharp igrounde, Saber slough him in that stounde. Out on Arondel tho com Bevoun And mette with is stifader Devoun, And with a dent of gret fors A bar him doun of his hors; With Morgelay, that wolde wel bite, He hadde ment is heved of smite; His ost cam riding him to, Wel ten thosend other mo; So stronge were tho hii come. Th'emperur Beves hii benome And broughte him an horse tho; Tharfore was Beves swithe wo. Thar com in the thredde part With is batte Ascopard; Ever alse he com than, A felde bothe hors and man. Tharwith was Beves wel apaide, A clepede Ascopard and to him saide: "Ascopard, tak right gode hede: Th'emperur rit on a whit stede; Thin hure I schel thee yilde wel, With that thow bringe him to me castel!" "Sire," a seide, "I schel for sothe In to the castel bringe him to thee!" Ascopard leide on wel inough, Bothe man and hors he slough; Thar nas non armur in that londe, That mighte the geauntes strok astonde. The King of Scotlonde, with is bat A yaf him swiche a sori flat Upon the helm in that stounde, That man and hors fel ded to grounde. Thanne anon, withoute sojur, A wente to that emperur, And hasteliche with might and main A hente the hors be the rain; Wolde he, nolde he, faire and wel He bar hors and man to the castel. Of al that other, siker aplighte, That were ensemled in that fighte, Of Scotlonde and of Almaine, Beves and Saber with might and maine With deth is dentes gonne doun drive, That thar ne scapede non alive. And thus Sire Beves wan the pris And vengede him of is enemis, And to the castel thai wente isame With gret solas, gle and game, And that his stifader wer ded, Ase tit he let felle a led Ful of pich and of bremston, And hot led let falle ther-on; Whan hit alther swither seth, Th'emperur thar in a deth, Thar a lay atenende. Wende his saule, whider it wende! His moder over the castel lai, Hire lord sethen in the pich she sai; So swithe wo hire was for sore, She fel and brak hire nekke therfore. Alse glad he was of hire, Of his damme, ase of is stipsire, And seide: "Damme, forgheve me this gilt, I ne yaf thee nother dent ne pilt!" Thanne al the lordes of Hamteschire Made Beves lord and sire And dede him feuté and omage, Ase hit was lawe and right usage. Tho was Beves glad and blithe And thankede God ful mani a sithe, That he was wreke wel inough Of him, that his father slough. Wel hasteliche she let sende To Coloine after the bischop hende, And spusede Beves and Josiane. Of no joie nas ther wane; Though ich discrive nought the bredale, Ye mai wel wite, hit was riale, That ther was in alle wise Mete and drinke and riche servise. Now hath Beves al is stat; Tweie children on hir he begat In the formeste yere, Whiles that hii were ifere. And Saber him redde thar Wende to the King Edgar; Tho with inne a lite stounde The king a fond at Lounde. Beves a knes doun him set, The king hendeliche a gret; The king askede him, what he were And what nedes a wolde there. Thanne answerde Bevoun: "Ichatte Beves of Hamtoun; Me fader was ther th'erl Gii; Th'emperur for is levedi Out of Almaine com and him slough; Ichave wreke him wel inough; Ich bidde before your barnage, That ye me graunte min eritage!" "Bletheliche," a seide, "sone min, Ich graunte thee, be Sein Martin!" His marchal he gan beholde: "Fet me," a seide, "me yerde of golde! Gii, is fader, was me marchal, Also Bevis, is sone, schal." His yerd he gan him ther take: So thai atonede withoute sake. In somer aboute Whitsontide Whan knightes mest an horse ride, A gret kours thar was do grede, For to saien here alther stede, Whiche were swift and strong. The kours was seve mile long; Who that come ferst theder, han scholde A thosand pound of rede golde. Tharwith was Beves paied wel: Meche a treste to Arondel. A morwe, whan hit was dai cler, Ariseth bothe knight and squier And lete sadlen here fole. Twei knightes hadde the kours istole, That hii were to mile before, Er eni man hit wiste ybore. Whan Beves wiste this, fot hot Arondel with is spures a smot And is bridel faste a schok; A mide the kours he hem oftok. "Arondel," queth Beves tho, "For me love go bet, go, And I schel do faire and wel For thee love reren a castel!" Whan Arondel herde what he spak, Before the twei knightes he rak, That he com rather to the tresore, Than hii be half and more. Beves of his palfrai alighte And tok the tresore anon righte: With that and with mor catel He made the castel of Arondel. Meche men preisede is stede tho, For he hadde so wel igo; The prince bad, a scholde it him yeve; "Nay," queth Beves, "so mot I leve, Though thow wost me take an honde Al the hors of Ingelonde!" Sithe that he him yeve nele, A thoughte, that he it wolde stele. Hit is lawe of kinges alle, At mete were croune in halle, And thanne everiche marchal His yerde an honde bere schal. While Beves was in that ofice, The kinges sone, that was so nice, What helpeth for to make fable? A yede to Beves stable And yede Arondel to nighe, And also a wolde him untighe, And tho Arondel, fot hot, With his hint fot he him smot And todaschte al is brain. Thus was the kinges sone slain. Men made del and gret weping For sorwe of that ilche thing; The king swor, for that wronge That Beves scholde ben anhonge And to-drawe with wilde fole. The barnage it nolde nought thole And seide, hii mighte do him no wors, Boute lete hongen is hors; Hii mighte don him namore, For he servede tho the king before. "Nai," queth Beves, "for no catele Nel ich lese min hors Arondele, Ac min hors for to were Ingelonde ich wile forswere; Min eir ich wile make her This gode knight, min em Saber." In that maner hii wer at one, And Beves is to Hamtoun gone; A tolde Josian and Ascopard fore Al togedre, lasse and more. Beves lep on is rounci And made is swein Terri, That Saber is sone is; And whan Ascopard wiste this, Whiche wei hii wolde take, Aghen to Mombraunt he gan schake, To betraie Beves, as ye mai se, For he was falle in poverté, For, whan a man is in poverté falle, He hath fewe frendes with alle. To him seide King Yvore: "Treitour, whar hastow be thus yore?" "Sire," a seide, "have sought the quene, And have had for hire miche tene! Sire," a seide, "certeine for sothe, Yet ich kouthe bringe hire to thee!" "Ich wile thee yeve a kingdom right, Bring yow me that levedi bright!" Queth Ascopart: "Therto I graunt, Be Mahoun and be Tervagaunt, So that ichave fourti knightes, Stout in armes and strong in fightes; For Beves is ful sterne and stoute, Of him ichave swithe gret doute; He overcom me ones in bataile: Me behoveth help, him to asaile." King Yvor grauntede anon rightes; He let him chese fourti knightes And armede hem him in yrene wede, And forth with Ascopard thai yede. Now lete we be this Ascopard And speke of Beves, that rit forthward In is wei til Ermonie Thourgh Fraunce and thourgh Normondie; And Josiane, Crist here be milde! In a wode was bestonde of childe Beves and Terri doun lighte And with here swerdes a logge pighte; Thai broughte Josiane ther inne, For hii ne kouthe no beter ginne. Bevis is servise gan hire bede, To helpe hire at that nede. "For Godes love," she saide, "nai, Leve sire, thow go thee wai, God forbede for is pité, That no wimman is privité To no man thourgh me be kouthe. Goth and wendeth hennes nouthe, Thow and thee swain Terry, And let me worthe and Oure Levedy!" Forth thai wente bothe ifere, For hii ne mighte hire paines here. Allas, that ilche cherre; Hii wente from hire alto ferre! Alse hii wer out of the weie, She hadde knave children tweie. Also she dilivered was, Thar com Ascopard goande a pas And fourti Sarasins, the Frensch seth, Al iarmede to the teth. For al hire sorwe and hire wo Thai made hire with hem te go, And gret scorning of hire thai maked And bete hire with swerdes naked. Wo was the levedi in that stounde, That was so beten and ibounde; And in here wei ase thai gonne wende, She seide: "Ascopard, freli frende, For bounté, ich dede thee while And savede thee fro perile, Tho Beves thee wolde han slawe And ibrought of thee lif dawe, Ich was the bourgh, thee schost be trewe. Thar fore I praie, on me thee rewe And yeve me space a lite wight, For wende out of this folkes sight, To do me nedes in privité, For kende hit is, wimman te be Schamfaste and ful of corteisie, And hate dedes of fileinie." Ascopard answerde hire tho: "Whider thow wilt, dame, thow schelt go, So ichave of thee a sight!" Thanne Josiane, anon right Out of the way she gan terne, As she wolde do hire dedes derne. While she was in Ermonie, Bothe fysik and sirgirie She hadde lerned of meisters grete Of Boloyne the gras and of Tulete, That she knew erbes mani and fale, To make bothe boute and bale. On she tok up of the grounde, That was an erbe of meche mounde, To make a man in semlaunt there, A foule mesel alse if a were. Whan she hadde ete that erbe, anon To the Sarasines she gan gon, And wente hem forth withoute targing Toward Yvore, the riche king. Thai nadde ride in here way Boute fif mile of that contray, She was in semlaunt and in ble A foule mesel on to se. Tho she was brought to King Yvore, To Ascopard a seide thore: "Who is this wimman, thow hast me brought?" "What," a seide, "knowest hire nought? She is Josiane, the Quene. Ichave had for hire meche tene." Thanne seide Yvor: "I praie Mahoun Tharfore yeve thee is malisoun, Swiche a levedi me to bringe, So foule of sight in alle thinge! Led hire awai, God yeve yow schame, Thee and hire, bothe isame!" A castel hadde King Yvor Fro his paleise fif mile and mor; Theder Yvor bad hire lede And finde hire that hire wer nede. Tho Ascopard withouten dwelling In to that castel gan hire bring, In wildernesse upon a plaine, And half a yer a was hire wardaine. Now lete we be of this levedi And speke of Beves and of Terri. Beves, aghen is wei he nam, In to the logge that he cam; Fond he ther nother yong ne elder, Boute twei hethene knave childer, Swithe faire children with alle, Alse hii were fro the moder falle. Beves fel thar doun and swough; Terri wep and him up drough, And koursede biter that while Ascopard is tresoun and is gile. Thei kottede here forers of ermin, The yonge children wonde ther in. Thar nolde hii no long abide, Thei lope to horse and gonne ride; In the wode a forster thai mette And swithe faire thai him grette: "God the blesse, sire!" Beves sede, "Sighe the eni levedi her forth lede Owhar be this ilche way?" "Sire, for Gode" a seide, "nay!" "What dones man ertow, bacheler?" "Sire," a seide, "a forster!" "Forster, so Crist thee be milde, Wiltow lete cristen this hethen childe? Right, lo, now hit was ibore And yong hit hath is moder forlore. Wilt thow kep it for to min," a sede, "And I schel quite wel thee mede?" The forster him grauntede ther, To kepe hit al the seven yer. "Sire, what schel it hote yet?" "Gii," a sede, "ase me fader het. Right sone so he is of elde, Tech him bere spere and schelde!" That child the forster he betok And forth in is wei a schok. Another man a mette there, That seide, a was a fischere; Ten mark Beves him betok, And that other child to lok, And he himself, at the cherche stile He let nevene the child Mile. Thar nolden lengere abide, Thai lope to hors and gonne ride Over dale and over doun, Til thai come to a gret toun, And at a faire in thai lighte, And riche soper thai gonne hem dighte. Beves at a wendowe lokede out And segh the strete ful aboute Of stedes wrien and armes bright. A wonder him thoughte, what it be might; At here ostesse he askede there, What al the stoute stedes were. "Sire, a seide, "veraiment, Thai ben come for a tornement, That is cride for a maide faire, A kinges doughter and is air. Who that thar be beste knight And stireth him stoutliche in that fight, He schel have that maide fre And Aumbeforce, the faire contré." Thanne seide Beves unto Terry: "Wile we tornaie for that levedy?" "Ye, sire," a sede, "be Sein Thomas of Ynde! Whan were we wonded be byhinde? We scholle lete for non nede, That we ne scholle manliche forth us bede!" A morwe the lauerkes songe, Whan that the lighte day was spronge, Beves and Terry gonne arise And greithede hem in faire queintise. Here armes were riale of sight, With thre eglen of asur bright; The chaumpe of gold ful farie Tolede, Portraid al with rosen rede. And Terri, Saberes sone of Wight, In riche armes also was dight. Ase thai com ride thourgh the toun, Erles, barouns of renoun Hadde wonder of here armes slie, In that londe never swich thai sie. The trompes gonne here bemes blowe; The knightes riden out in a rowe, And tho the tornement began, Thar was samned mani a man, The tornement to beholde, To se the knightes stout and bolde. Thai leide on ase hii were wode With swerdes and with maces gode; Thar nolde no man other knowe, Thar men mighte se in lite throwe Knightes out of sadel iboren, Stedes wonne and stedes loren. The kinges sone of Asie Thoughte wenne the meistrie. Out of the renge he com ride, And Beves nolde no leng abide; He rod to him with gret randoun, And with Morgelai, is fauchoun, The prince a felde in the feld; He was boren hom upon is scheld. And also Beves adoun bar A noble duk, that was thar. In Aumbeforce cleped a wes Balam of Nuby, withouten les; Taile over top he made him stoupe And felde him over is horses croupe, And seven erles he gan doun thrawe, Sum iwonded and sum yslawe. Saber is sone, that highte Terry, Kedde that he was knight hardy; He leide on, alse he wolde awede, And wan his lord mani gode stede. Alle tho that hii mighte hitte, No man mighte here strokes sitte. So Beves demeinede him that dai, The maide hit in the tour say. Hire hertte gan to him acorde, That she wolde have him to lorde, Other with love other with strif; And ever a seide, he hath a wif, And seide, she was stolen him fro. Thanne saide the maide: "Now it is so, Thow schelt al this seven yere Be me lord in clene manere, And yif thee wif cometh thee aghen, Terry, the swein, me lord schel ben!" Beves seide: "So I schel; In that forward I graunte wel!" Saber at Hamtoun lai in is bed, Him thoughte, Beves a wonde hed; A way he was, him thoughte that while, Toward Sein Jemes and Sein Gile. Whan he awok, he was afraid, To his wif is swevene a said. "Sire," she seide, "thow havest wrong, That thow dwellest her so long. Alse ich am wimman ibore, Wif or child he hath forlore. Thourgh Ascopard he hath that gile." Twelf knightes Saber let atile In palmer is wedes everichon, And armede hem right wel anon; Here bordones were imaked wel With longe pikes of wel gode stel, And whan thai were so idight, To schip thai wente anon right And pasede over the Grikische se; Gode winde and weder hadden he. Whan thai come to the londe, Faste thai gonne fraine and fonde, In what londe were the quene, And men tolde hem al bedene, How the geaunt Ascopard In a castel hire hadde to ward, In wildernesse al be selve. Tho Saber and is feren twelve, Thourgh help of God that ilche stounde Sone thai han the castel founde. The castel ase he yede aboute, For to divise the toures stoute, Josian lay in a tour an high, Saber and felawes she sigh, And to him she gan to crie: "Help, Saber, for love of Marie!" Tho Ascopard herde that stevene, How she gan Saber to nevene, He wente him out with hertte wroth And be Mahoun a swor his oth, To dethe a scholde Saber dighte. His sclavin ech palmer of twighte, Tho schon here armur wel clere; Tho Saber and his felawes ifere Aboute Ascopard thai thringe, And harde on him thai gonne dinge And hew him alle to pices smale And broughte Josian out of bale; And hasteliche tho, veraiment, Josian with an oiniment Hire coulur, that was lothli of sight, She made bothe cler and bright. Tho Saber, that was wis of dede, Josian, hire dighte in palmers wede, And forth thai wente hasteli, To seche Beves and sire Terri. Seve yer togedres thai him sought, Er than hii him finde moughte. In grete Grese, so saith the bok, Saber gret sikenesse tok, That other half yer in none wise Ne mighte he out of is bed arise, And tresor he nadde namore, Than half a mark of olde store. While Josian was in Ermonie, She hadde lerned of minstralcie, Upon a fithele for to play Staumpes, notes, garibles gay; Tho she kouthe no beter red, Boute in to the bourgh anon she yed And boughte a fithele, so saith the tale, For fourti panes of one menestrale; And alle the while that Saber lay, Josian everiche a day Yede aboute the cité withinne, Here sostenaunse for to winne. Thus Josian was in swiche destresse, While Saber lai in is siknesse. At that other half yer is ende Swiche grace God him gan sende And heled him of his maladie, And forth thai wente hastelie, Beves and Terry for to seche, Wheder that God hem wolde teche. So thourgh a toun thai com thringe, Thar Beves was in also a kinge; A broughte Josian at here inne And wente te toun, here mete to winne. Whan he com to the castel gate, Terry, is sone, a mette ther-ate, That was stiward of al that londe, And Saber gan to understonde, That hit was is sone Terry, And bad him for love of Our Levedy And for the love of the gode Rode Yeve him sumwhat of hire gode. Terry beheld Saber ful blive And seide: "Palmer, so mot I thrive, Thow schelt have mete riche For love of me fader, th'ert iliche!" "So seide thee moder, sone, that I was!" And Terry him in armes las, And gonne cleppen and to kisse And made meche joie and blisse. Saber Josian wel faire gan dighte And broughte hire to the castel righte And tok hire Sire Beves to honde, Ne cam him never lever sonde. "Louerd Crist," queth Josian tho, "Swithe wel is me bego, That ichave me lord ifonde. Hadde ich me children hol and sonde!" That hii were ded, wel she wende. Beves after hem let sende; Than com the fischer and the forster And broughte the children of fair cher. Thanne weddede Terry Of that londe the riche levedy; And after mete thar it was, The children pleide at the talvas, And to the justes thai gonne ride; Thar was joie be everi side. Thanne Sire Beves and Sere Terry Wente hem in til Ermonie, And Josiane and Sire Sabere, And Miles and Gii bothe ifere. With that was come King Yvore, To yeve bataile Ermyn the hore; Ipight he hadde is pavilioun, To besege him in that toun. With that com Beves in that tide With gret folk be that other side. Tho was Ermin afered sore, For tresoun he hadde don him before. Aghen Beves anon a yede And merci cride of his misdede, And Sire Beves tho, veraiment, Foryaf him alle is mautalent And seide a wolde anon righte Aghen Yvor take the fighte. Out of the cité Beves rod, And al is ost, withouten abod, And slowe doun rightes mani and fale, Sixti thosand told in tale; And Beves threw Yvor adoun And sente him Ermin to prisoun. He gan him take be the honde; The King Ermin gan understonde, That he ne schel nought scape awai, Withoute gret raunsoun for to pai. Tho swor Yvor to King Ermin Be Mahoun and be Apolyn, That gret raunsoun paie he wolde, Sixti pound of rede golde, Foure hondred beddes of selk echon, Quiltes of gold thar upon, Four hondred copes of gold fyn And ase fele of maslin. "Ye," seide Beves, "asend it me, And wend hom to the contré!" A masager a sente with main To Tabefor, his chaumberlain, And he him sente that raunsoun. Thus com Yvor out of prisoun. Now let we be of King Yvore And speke we of Ermin the hore, That in is bedde sike lay. So hit befel upon a day, Er he out of this world went, After Beves children a sent. He clepede to him Sire Gii And with is croune gan him crouny And yaf him alle is kenedom. Sone thar after hit becom, That a daide at the ende, To hevene mote his saule wende! Thanne Sire Beves and Sire Gii, Al the lond of Ermony Hii made Cristen with dent of swerd, Yong and elde, lewed and lered. So hit befel upon an eve, Saber of Beves tok leve, Hom te wende to his contré, His wif, his children for to se. Ne stente never Sire Saber, Til that he in Ingelonde were; Wel sore aneighed schel Beves be, Er than he Saber eft ise! The King Yvor hadde a thef. God him yeve evel pref, For that he kouthe so wel stele! He stel Beves Arondele With his charmes, that he kouthe, And broughte hit to Mombraunt be southe And presentede the King Yvore. The King be Mahoun hath swore That Beves scholde abegge sore The raunsoun, that he hadde before. Now Sire Beves let we gan And to Sire Saber wile we tan. Saber at Hamtoun in bedde lay; Him thoughte that he Beves say In bataile wo begon And al to-heve, flesch and bon. Tho he abraide out of is swevene, To his wif a tolde hit ful evene Al togedres how him met. "O sire," she seide withouten let, "Be the swevene ful wel I wat, That Beves is in semple stat; He hath forloren Arondel, And that I wet finliche wel." Saber was wo for that sake; Eft scrippe and bordoun he gan take And tok leve of his wif And to Beves a wente belif. Beves was glad, that he was come, And tolde, his hors was him benome: "A roboun hit stal ful yore And hath yeve hit to King Yvore." "That," Saber seide, "athenketh me, Boute yif ich mighte winne it aye!" Aghen to Mombraunt wente Saber Thar men watrede the deistrer; Thar he stod and abod, A proud Sarasin ther-on rod; "Mahoun thee save!" seide Saber, "Fro whanne kometh this fair deistrer? Hit haveth brestes thikke and proute. Which is the kroupe terne aboute?" Aboute he ternde the deistrer; Up behinde lep Saber And smot the Sarasin ded adoun With the pik of his bordoun. To the King Ivor he gan grede: "Lo, Arondel ich a wei lede. Ye him stele with envie And ich him feche before your eie!" The King Ivor was swithe wo And after Saber thai gonne go; Thre thosend hath Saber beset; Josian stod in a toret; Al this folk she segh ful wel And Saber com ride on Arondel; Out of the tour she wente adoun And seide: "Beves of Hamtoun, Her cometh Saber upon thee stede. Jesu Crist him yilde is mede! Ac he is beset al aboute With wonderliche grete route; Al most he is in point to spille!" "Has armes!" Beves cride schille. Ferst smot out the yonge King Gii And Miles with gret chevalry; Thai come to Saber at that stour And broughte Saber gode sokour And leide on with alle here might And slowe Sarasines adoun right. Of al that sewede him so yerne, To Mombraunt gonne never on terne, That thai ner ded upon the grene, Everi moder sone, I wene; And thus Saber in this wise Wan Arondel with is queintise. Now mowe ye here forthormore Ful strong bataile of King Yvore; Ac er than we beginne fighte, Ful us the koppe anon righte! The King Yvore him ros amorwe, In his hertte was meche sorwe. He let of sende an highing Thretti amirales and ten king. Thai armede hem in yrene wede, To Ermonie he gan hem lede. Hii pighte paviliouns and bente ginne, For to besege hem ther inne, And Yvore clepede at that cas Morable and Sire Judos. "Redeth me," a seide, "aright, Yif ich mai understonde this fight Aghen Beves of Hamtoun, That is so stout a baroun!" "We redeth meintene your parti!" He lep to hors and gan to crie: "Sire Beves of Hamtoun," a sede, "Thou havest thar-inne gret ferede, And ich her oute mani stout knight, Ichave brought with me to fight, And yif we bataile schel abide, Gret slaughter worth in either side. Wiltow graunte be then helve, That ich and thow mote fighte us selve? Yif thow slest me in bataile, Al min onour, withouten faile, Ich thee graunte thourgh and thourgh, Bothe in cité and in bourgh!" Here gloven thai gonne up holde In that forward, that Yvor tolde, And armede hem in armes brighte And lopen to horse anon righte In an yle under that cité, Thar that scholde the bataile be. Over that water thai gonne ride, To hire godes that bede in either side; Beves bad help to Marie sone And King Yvor to Sein Mahoune; Ase Beves bad helpe to Marie, To Tervagaunt Yvor gan crie, That he scholde helpe him in that fight, Also he was king of meche might. With that hii ride togedres bothe, Ase men, that were in hertte wrothe, So harde thai gonne togedres mete And with here launces gonne grete, That thourgh the scheldes the speres yode; At the breinies the dent withstode. So harde thai threste togedre tho, That here gerthes borste ato, And felle to grounde bothe tho, A fote nedes thai moste go. Out of here sadles thai gonne springe And with fauchouns to gedere flinge; Aither on other strokes set, Of helm and scheld and bacinet The fure brast out so brond ibrent, So fel and eger was either dent. Thus togederes thai gonne dinge Fram prime til underne gan to ringe. Alle that sighen hem with sight, Seide never in none fight So stronge bataile sighe er than Of Sarasin ne of Cristene man. At high midday the King Yvore, To Beves he smot a dent ful sore, That sercle of gold and is crestel Fer in to the mede fel. Doun of the helm the swerd gan glace And karf right doun before is face, Doun right the viser with is swerd And half the her upon is berd. Ac thourgh the help of Godes grace His flesch nothing atamed nas. Tho cride the Sarasins al at ones: "This Beves with his grete bones Ful sone worth imaked tame!" Tho wex Beves in gret grame And thoughte wel with Morgelay Yelden his strok, yif that he may. To King Yvor he gan areche Anon withoute more speche Upon the scholder in that tide, That half a fot hit gan in glide. For smertte Yvor in that stounde Fel a knes unto the grounde, Ac up he sterte in haste than And in wrathe to Beves ran And thoughte han Beves aqueld; And Beves keppte him with is scheld, And Yvore with the strok of yre Made fle in to the rivere A large quarter of his scheld, That never nas atamed in feld. Or Ivor mighte his hond withdrawe, Beves, the knight of Cristene lawe, With Morgelay a smot him tho, That his scheld he clef ato, And his left hond, be the wrest Hit flegh awei thourgh help of Crist. Whan Ivor hadde his hond lore, He faught, ase he wer wod therfore, And hew to Beves in that tide, No strok ne moste other abide. Tho Beves segh is strokes large, He kepte his strokes with is targe; Tho Beves to Ivor gan flinge And thourgh the might of hevene king His right arm and is scholder bon He made fle to gronde anon. With that strok Yvor the Mombraunt Cride: "Merci, Tervagaunt, Mahoun, Govin, and Gibiter, Reseve now me saule her, For wel ich wot, ich am dede!" Tho Beves herde him so grede, He seide: "Yvor, let be that cri And clepe to God and to Mari, And let thee cristen, er thee deie, Or thow schelt go the worsse weie And withouten ende dwelle In the stronge peine of helle!" "Nay," queth Yvor, "so mot I then, Cristene wile ich never ben, For min is wel the beter lawe!" Tho Beves herde that ilche sawe, A felde him doun, withouten faile, And unlacede his ventaile, And tok him be the heved anon And strok hit fro the scholder bon, And on his spere he hit pighte. And tho the Cristen sighe that sighte, Thai thankede God in alle wise, That Beves hadde wonne the prise. Thanne al the Sarasins lasse and more, That was ycome with King Yvore, Thai sighe her lordes heved arered, Sore thai weren alle afered; Toward Mombraunt thei wolde fain, Ac Saber made hem terne again, And Sire Beves and Sire Terry, And Sire Miles and Sire Gii Slough hem doun rightes thore, That ther ne scapede lasse ne more. Tho crounede thai Beves king in that lond, That King Yvore held in hond, And Josiane bright and schene, Now is she ther twies quene. On a dai thai wente a rivere; Thar com ride a masagere, And ever he askede fer and ner After the hende knight Saber. Anon Saber gan forth springe: "Masager," a sede, "what tiding?" "Sire," a sede, "the King Edgare Thee driveth to meche te bismare, Desereteth Robaunt, thin eyr!" "For God," queth Saber, "that is nought feir!" And Sire Saber in haste tho Tok leve of Beves, hom to go; And Sire Beves corteis and hende, A seide a wolde with him wende, And Sire Miles and Sire Gii, And is owene sone Terry. Now wendeth Beves in te Ingelonde With is knightes fel to fonde, And Terry with is knightes fale, Sexty thosend told in tale. Thai lende over the se belive, At Southhamtoun thai gonne up rive. Hervebourgh, Saber is wif, And Robaund anon ase blif Aghen Saber come tho; Queth Saber: "How this is igo?" And thai him tolde at the frome, That Edgar hadde here londes benome. Thanne seide Beves: "So mot I the, Thar of ich wile awreke be!" Anon the knight, Sire Bevoun, His ost he let at Hamtoun, And toward Londen a wente swithe; His quene a let at Potenhithe; He tok with him sex knightes And wente forth anon rightes, And in is wei forth a yode And pasede over Temse flode. To Westmenster whan he com than, A fond the king and mani man, And on is knes he him set, The king wel hendeliche a gret And bad before his barnage, That he him graunte is eritage. "Bletheliche," a seide, "sone min, I graunte thee, be Seinte Martin!" And alle the barouns, that ther were, On Beves made glade chere, Boute the stiward of the halle; He was the worste frend of alle. The king wolde have yeve him grith, The stiward seide nay ther with, And seide: "This forbanniiste man Is come to the land aghan, And hath thin owene sone slawe. He hath ydon aghenes the lawe, And yif a mot forther gon, A wile us slen everichon!" Beves that herde, a was wroth, And lep to hors, withouten oth, And rod to Londen, that cité, With sex knightes in meiné. Whan that he to Londen cam, In Tour strete is in he nam And to the mete he gan gon, And is knightes everichon. Let we now Beves be, And of all the stiward telle we, That hateth Beves, also is fo. Sexty knightes he tok and mo, In to Londene sone he cam, And into Chepe the wei he nam And dede make ther a cri Among the peple hasteli, And seide: "Lordinges, veraiment, Hureth the kinges comaundement. Sertes, hit is befalle so, In your cité he hath a fo, Beves, that slough the kinges sone; That tresoun ye oughte to mone. I comaunde, for the kinges sake, Swithe anon that he be take!" Whan the peple herde that cri, Thai gonne hem arme hasteli, And hii that hadde armur non, Thai toke staves and gonne gon; Thai schette anon everi gate With the barres, thai founde ther-ate; And sum thai wente to the wal With bowes and with springal; Everi lane and everi strete Was do drawe with chaines grete, That, yif Beves wolde awei flen, The chaines scholde holde him aghen. Boute her of Beves weste nought. Help him God, that alle thing wrought! Beves at the mete sat, He beheld and underyat Al is fon, that were ther oute; He was afered of that route. He askede at the tavarnere, That armede folk, what it were. And he answerde him at that sake: "Thai ben ycome thee to take!" Whan Beves herde him speke so, To a chaumber he gan go, That he hadde seghe armur inne; In haste the dore he gan up winne And armede ther anon rightes Bothe he and is sex knightes, And gerte him with a gode brond And tok a spere in is honde, Aboute his nekke a doble scheld. He was a knight stout and belde. On Arondel a lep that tide, In to the strete he gan ride. Thanne seide the stiward to Sire Bef: "Ayilt thee, treitour, thow foule thef! Thow havest the kinges sone islawe, Thow schelt ben hanged and to-drawe!" Beves seide: "Be Sein Jon, Treitour was I never non. That I schel kethe hastely, Er than ich wende, sikerly!" A spere Beves let to him glide And smot him under the right side; Thourgh is bodi wente the dent, Ded a fel on the paviment. A sede anon after that dint: "Treitour! now is the lif itint. Thus men schel teche file glotouns, That wile misaie gode barouns!" The folk com with grete route, Besette Beves al aboute; Beves and is sex knightes Defendede hem with al her mightes, So that in a lite stounde Five hondred thai broughte te gronde. Beves prikede forth to Chepe, The folk him folwede al to hepe; Thourgh Godes lane he wolde han flowe, Ac sone within a lite throwe He was beset in bothe side, That fle ne mighte he nought that tide. Tho com ther fotmen mani and fale With grete clobbes and with smale! Aboute Beves thai gonne thringe And hard on him thai gonne dinge. Al Beves knightes, in that stounde Thar hii were feld to grounde And al to-hewe flesch and bon. Tho was Beves wobegon, For he was on and hii were ded; For sorwe kouthe he no red; That lane was so narw ywrought, That he mighte defende him nought, He ne Arondel, is stede, Ne mighte him terne for non nede. To Jesu he made his praiere And to Marie, is moder dere, That he moste pase with is lif, To sen is children and is wif. Out of the lane a wolde ten, The chynes held him faste aghen. With is swerd he smot the chayne, That hit fel a peces twayne, And forth a wente in to Chepe; The folk him folwede al to hepe, And al thai setten up a cry: "Ayilt thee, Beves, hastely, Ayilt thee, Beves, sone anon, And elles thow schelt thee lif forgon!" Beves seide: "Ich yelde me To God, that sit in Trinité! To non other man I nel me yelde, While that ich mai me wepne welde!" Now beginneth the grete bataile Of Sire Beves, withouten faile, That he dede ayenes that cité. Ye that wile here, herkneth to me! This was aboute the under tide, The cri aros be ech a side Bothe of lane and of strete; Aboute him com peple grete, Al newe and fresch, with him to fight, Ac Beves stered him ase gode knight, So that in a lite thrawe Fif thosend thar was islawe Of the strengeste, that ther wore, That him hadde yeve dentes sore; Ac ever his stede Arondel Faste faught with hertte lel, That fourty fote behinde and forn The folk he hath to grounde iborn. Thus that fight leste longe Til the time of evesonge. Tidinge com to Potenhithe, To Josian also swithe, That Beves in Londen was islawe And ibrought of his lif dawe. Josian thanne fel aswowe, Gii and Miles hire up drowe And confortede that levedi bright Hendeliche with alle her might, And askede hire, what hire were; And she tolde hem anon there, How Beves was in Londen slayn And his knightes with gret payn: "Now kethe ye ben noble knightes, And wreketh your fader with your mightes!" Sire Gii and Miles seide than To here moder Josian: "Dame, be Him that herwede helle, We scholle his deth wel dere selle!" Than Sire Miles and Sire Gii Gonne hem arme hasteli And on here knes set hem doun And bad her moder benesoun. Sire Gii lep on a rabit, That was meche and nothing lite, And tok a spere in is hond, Out at the halle dore a wond Toward the cité of Londen toun, And Sire Miles with gret randoun Lep upon a dromedary, To prike wolde he nought spary, Whan thai come to Londen gate, Mani man thai fonde ther-ate, Wel iarmed to the teth, So the Frensche bok us seth, Aghen the children thei yeve bataile, And hii aghen, withouten faile, And made of hem so clene werk, That thai never spek with prest ne clerk; And afterward, ase ye mai hure, Londegate thai sette a fure. Whan thai come, withouten faile, Tho began a gret bataile Betwene Bowe and Londen ston, That time stod us never on. Thar was a Lombard in the toun, That was scherewed and feloun; He armede him in yrene wede And lep upon a sterne stede And rod forth with gret randoun And thoughte have slawe Sire Bevoun. With an uge masnel Beves a hite on the helm of stel, That Beves of Hamtoun, veraiment, Was astoned of the dent; What for care and for howe, He lenede to his sadelbowe. Thanne com priken is sone Gii, To helpe his fader, hastely; With a swerd drawe in is hond To that Lombard sone a wond And smot him so upon the croun, That man and hors he clevede doun; The poynt fel on the paviment, The fur sprong out after the dent. Thanne com ride is brother Mile Among the peple in that while; Al tho, that a mighte reche, Ne dorste he never aske leche, For to hele ther is wonde, That he ne lai ded upon the grounde. And whan Beves segh that sighte, In hertte he was glad and lighte And thankede Jesu, our saviour, That hadde sent him so gode sokour, And egerliche, withouten faile, The grete peple he gan asaile. So meche folk was slawe and ded, That al Temse was blod red; The nombre was, veraiment, To and thretti thosent. And also sone as hit was night, To the ledene halle thai wente right; A fette Josian with faire meiné To Londen, to that riche cité, And held a feste fourtene night To al that ever come, aplight! Tiding com to King Edgar, That Beves hadde his men forfare; For is borgeis in is cité He made del and gret pité And seide: "Ichave leved me lif Longe withouten werre and strif, And now icham so falle in elde, That I ne may min armes welde. Twei sones Beves hath with him brought, Tharfore hit is in me thought, Miles, his sone, me doughter take, In this maner is pes to make." Thai grauntede al with gode entent, And King Edgar Beves of-sent, And Sire Saber and Sire Gii, And Sire Miles and Sire Terry, And King Edgar Miles gan calle Before his barouns in the halle And yaf him is doughter be the honde, And after is day al Ingelonde, And pes and love was maked thare Betwene Beves and King Edgare. The maide and Miles wer spused same In the toun of Notinghame. Ye witeth wel, though I ne telle yow, The feste was riale inow, As scholde be at swiche a spusing And at the kinges couroning; The feste leste fourtene night To al that ever come, aplight! And at the fourtene night is ende, Beves tok leve, hom to wende, At King Edgar and at Sabere, And Miles, is sone, a lefte here And kiste and yaf him is blessing, And wente to Mombraunt, ther he was king; And his erldom in Hamteschire A yaf to his em Sabere And schipede at Hamtoun hastely, And with him wente his sone Gii, And Terry with is barnage. The wind blew hardde with gret rage And drof hem in to Ermonie, Thar belefte his sone Gii With his barouns gode and hende; And Terry to Aumberthe gan wende, And Beves wente withoute dwelling In to Mombraunt, thar he was king; With him wente Josian, is quene, And levede withoute treie and tene Twenti yer, so saith the bok. Thanne swiche siknesse the levedi tok, Out of this world she moste wende; Gii, hire sone, she gan ofsende, And Terry, the riche king, For to ben at here parting. And whan thai were alle thare, To his stable Beves gan fare; Arondel a fond thar ded, That ever hadde be gode at nede; Tharfore him was swithe wo, In to his chaumber he gan go And segh Josian drawe to dede. Him was wo a moste nede, And er her body began to colde, In is armes he gan hire folde, And thar hii deide bothe ifere. Here sone ne wolde in non manere, That hii in erthe beried were. Of Sein Lauarauns he let arere A faire chapel of marbel fin, That was ikast with queint engin; Of gold he made an high cornere And leide them thar in bothe ifere. An hous he made of riligioun, For to singe for Sire Bevoun And ek for Josian the fre: God on here saules have pité! And also for Arondel, Yif men for eni hors bidde schel, Thus endeth Beves of Hamtoun. God yeve us alle Is benesoun! Amen. |
(see note) I will sing to you he [is] called lying I; together his same shire; (see note) guard skin Was not; (see note) quarrel lived old age control elderly man; (see note) chose he lost much evil I have nobly born Germany; (see note) as a mistress he there (thither) desired Then he gave old age Feeble he grew; unbold they went he was called not quite seven lady; had evil thoughts much against tower work rather was not; (see note) As He Embrace; his will not allow it do not trick Soon; lady fierce counsel called; messenger Messenger, promise me disclose person wish property vagabond proud unless I do your bidding imagine you would forbid me glad Germany chamber prompt; swift behalf (see note) ready his retinue; our sea destroy kill believed cut off; head done My; receive same; became angry ship; went he; servant if you please the emperor he lay by my oath thither delay he found he knelt Greets you; by God's son (see note) ready retinue; her kill With few followers strenuous as; (see note) love he said; command If my life will last It shall be done advice; (see note) Than birds; it begins to dawn tell her so make known laden with red gold dub you knight earnestly Home again he found; chamber embraced sweetly began to talk secretly greets you well greatest love He will be ready for you are happy Happier he is Many times content; (see note) foremost (first) As though it were a necessity called evil (sickness) She thought [she would] be dead earl; sympathetized if; desired anything might comfort her boar my love Where; swine treason; (see note) our he breeds his; mount shield; his Armed among a group of four; (see note) army had not been wary enemies To kill him slain from his life Before he found all ready spurred; his host boast Surrender; traitor; fool head; lose Your son noble I choose for my lover The earl; speech speak against noble to take them from me them spurred his horse healthy his saddle too Do you think since I am old To be afraid my show drew drawn would have slain Had there not been help many; numerous thousand tolled by tally; (see note) himself heads he struck off sword well-armed; I imagine victory slain and needed the most his rode his horse knelt succor his life noble I have Except I have slain here; drawn possessions Except; Bevis my beloved will not do angered slew took his head take; message [To] my sweet love he found soon greet listen to me sent me hither prize he shall Tomorrow tell; man my bedchamber held his way; (see note) All he said speak Guy's son sorrowful Earnestly he wept, he wrung his hands repeatedly called; speech whore; You should be drawn; (see note) pulled apart I would be very glad slain my father much injustice complexion; (see note) Evil becomes you, whore manage [a] brothel all women whore (i.e., work for you); (see note) I would deliver them skin But one age; (see note) slain dear repay (see note) his ear pity; (see note) mentor; quickly; (see note) Who was called by nature; (see note) He (Saber); harm; injury then took showed the way sent after spoke love slay; Bevis very high Nevertheless command he took home swine; (see note) killed it sprinkled places cut apart He; show he did to be afraid poor clothes gentle person sheep fortnight (two weeks) guide you teach you courtesy your such [an] age govern return to England win back Your heritage all my your rights [Until] you are of age thanked him; wept field shepherd; hill tower Trumpets; drum much bliss (celebration) remember once; earl's son shepherd avenge Despite his retinue picked up; club Deeply sorry; angry quickly little; have; (see note) vagrant Wicked whore's; command; (see note) From Unless Said; evil man; How If he says anything much more very sore A whore's son lifted; club Quickly outside; stood; (see note) hood head permission anger are you doing embraces; neck same permission Take [from] me my; property Unless; sooner go make trouble for you Have you not; slain drawn Arise; advise Fool mad; anger called; fool he turned Three times; club; (see note) his hand crown (head) in a swoon cry Seize (see note) But none of them would take him They; pass teacher he met was called uplifted spirits Cross are you doing here at once Beaten; stepfather left will; shame (harm) Unless; counsel both trouble led he was very afraid she made her way wicked; foul thief By your advice; by your command as you can see you lie Unless pay teacher (mentor); threatened Lo, I am here, by name Do not shame my teacher on my behalf call for me; here I am Eagerly she wished he were dead called quickly Go; shore ships; heathen land; (see note) Sell to them; very boy; (see note) fine possessions (see note) began to go they found standing there many they offered to sell Merchants; very many a good price delivered (see note) fearful far away sold grief he must sailed forth; (see note) was called was named shoes; feet; (see note) mind To what should she be compared knew gentle nor well brought up Except; knew nothing in haste time Mohammed; proud; (see note) If; incline to If only [he] would be a Saracen As; he should prosper By Mohammed saw length; breadth limbs where were you born It would please me if I knew it am called I was born; England seashore murdered treacherously many; prove to be; (see note) But; happen might lance shatter avenge heart grew have no heir Except; maiden If you forsake your god (see note) give [her] to you to marry when I die would not silver Neither redeemed dumb; deaf loved him endured no other man's sorrow servant dubbed My banner bear command; I will do a year and a second (two years) as his clever saw By the time ride against him (challenge) anger tolerate him He did on Christmas loyal speak was called do not know; (see note) seven From cannot tell you looked at him; laughed; (see note) Yule Your; pain partake in greater joy Honor partaken Tourneying helmets; many [a] shield as strong; [my] place every one Before leaving Listen; these boasts He; defeat us Shall try; to slay press to strike wounds suffer hurt pluck up his courage Quickly; he turned took place them deadly wounds some; severed; neck head flew Their horses' feet; they lay There were none them hastily home guidance from put into the stable himself flat calm; place Word perish his sentence That he should know; mind Unless he were defending himself And; advice Before you put; death pray truth, indeed Render; judgment slay noble very soon Called; two make your way ask dais peace bravely Heaved; head bright; hairy brows loathly; looked to them afraid; confused; (see note) were not messengers cowards; (see note) one foot from heathen as you are Get out quickly haste eager; escape at once Certainly, he called you heathen hound Three times; short time Armenia Again Hardily guarantee together Sweetheart (see note) kissed; mouth throughout gave solace; maiden his mercy I am wounded very ointment To make you whole; sound Let us go in haste To conflict; began showed; place Forty; gruesome grayhaired do not wish bring to health brave healthful in a short time whole and sound As; falcon learn Nobles boar fear tusks; shook to pieces hunted [the boar]; ten gave he not a bean (did not care) five Each; inches wide bristles fierce; knew how to his dreamed; he would prove his swine; alone In the morning saddled; horse decided; hunt armed himself; sword forest watched felt as she stood there chosen he took tree notes; in a row boar; hear Then; boar's den saw slain Eaten their; drunk their blood cursed spirit give; right now As soon as; saw He raised stared at; hungry eyes As if; swallowed when; yawned pieces there blow any flint broken protect evensong fighting cared his prayer without fail Against; give foam; wondrously very place His virtue sliced Two tusks; stroke hand's breadth of the snout shorn away long loathly thrust carved; exactly in two brandished again quickly off smote handle head; stuck flourish; known eager; defend from; death steward Who; hoped bore mastery stout the book says; (see note) knew who created all things rides step for step Listen; marvelous event He (Bevis) went walking in peace; security Attack; strike down drew left it there Where defend handle dismayed took boar's head he great power; (see note) was called, indeed; (see note) When turned them slit a certain; reached stroke rush he cleft in two corpse; pulled down saddle placed much better wanted to make a certain peace With them shoot arrows Scarcely (see note) conflict lord if I had it would wed him Unless your advice captivated; (see note) knows nothing lament (moan); (see note) alone left (see note) time But he did not learn from anyone was done to death Who crazed very quickly Give refuse all-out combat many sides; provoke destroy happen (see note) carter; worn out lie (see note) they advise who set upon him Alone taken away Where; boar's head defend handle he led (see note) ready there boar's head knocked down won slew fear his oath [Bevis] should be dubbed enthusiasm Gladly; Cross Dubbed sure eagles; azure field; ornamented ribbons Then he armed himself banner put on his jacket tunic; maiden viewed it edge-tool; sever horse ran Men called it host; in a group shining Thirty thousand first shield retinue; took; (see note) against Who believed in Rough; shepherd took good care jacket availed; button at home he ordered his companions Then; eager mood (enthusiastically) slew; as if they; berserk; (see note) did everyone [else] ready (see note) moment Sixty thousand Damascus When; saw fled coast host dismount ransom trussed; steed took heed time Are you; fetch First my; sword any; more place I acknowledge myself; (see note) Defeated by crown relinquish; your power Your own; honor Providing that; escape then in haste (see note) for him; (see note) law war; [neither] day nor night; (see note) homage Thereto harm Neither against you For later despite all his fair promise feast; (see note) henceforth hear command As long as he lives people; possesses He says; holds them for you time food (dinner) cease lodging gave servings [of various dishes] eaten hue (complexion) counsel; show my dear; if you please so completely Truly I know no counsel Unless unless you do your will with me nothing of the kind; (see note) There; unlike me sultan would not wish to have you have once beheld I would rather have you as my lover (see note) will not do; (see note) That would not have me as wife If suffering; injury the likes [of you] clean; ditch dubbed pain; suffering you say wrong go see [bring] it here will not [endure]; of your threats; (see note) lodging annoyed; ashamed angered troubles tell; change mis-said (spoken falsely) valiant as payment white as milk silk from Toulouse Embroidered wear, as he should eagerly return succeed (see note) speak evil of; (see note) very same garment courteous If take befalls me snore my peace two lie; go away I am weary if you please sayings woman's arrow; shot; (see note) Forgive as a reward My your creature covenant nearly overcome one It would have been better oath that you are angry wicked infidel deflowered (see note) kiss her once Nothing else about him; knew my rhyme; placed gallows by all saints See to it; come to me first done pagan disgrace eagerly; avenged Unless; see May he have; curse make him seduced go hence (see note) very writing law speak imprint; seal quick truthfully country sword speech allowed heavy steed (warhorse) take; hackney leave here a little while mounted he rode own Unless; sees earlier uncle when called go; search mariner command seven might beyond has gone away all pagan lands could by chance Damascus place dined; in armor medlar tree (see note) Saint Julian; (see note) If you would like very hungry showed days Garbed; same clothes pilgrim; supplies Bread; meat; bag flagons; wine abundance Whether called Born laughed not; long ago hang fell down; swooned hair; tore sighed lost event Return home Tell your friends what I have told you sought; seven were; nearer saw; letter case; seal went to school read fear (see note) As if they parted Isle; [Man] killed lament uncle Germany claimed; heritage; (see note) Let us now leave Damascus mosque; he saw [in] great abundance honored their palfrey dismounted temple priest ditch escaped; ran fast dinner at once cursed man gods Scarcely; throng trembled with fear; table greeted them Save you companions very Termagant; (see note) bless; save their Look here parchment He bade kneeled furthered fear hide kill banquet gentle; (see note) for that purpose as if he were mad moment quickly shove As bees do around the hive If you had not beaten me in a fight; (see note) before dark fathoms mis-ease (discomfort) loaf of bread (see note) great stone wheat; (see note) ordered fathoms club to protect himself snakes pit's bottom where is Bevis see for a long time has gone dwells birth tell me sorrowful hair she tore out sighed done did not tell me beginning (see note) anywhere to make war follow Towards; he hastened she would be queen not her will; believe She would rather; lower station Bevis' countess Her father's will Gentle You would never have as my heart's blood; (see note) I have; (see note) his will rapidly came closer delay Sultan; Babylon should bring homage honor I will not tell anymore; (see note) hasten; story finished prepared; packhorses; (see note) Thither; chariot took began Son best horse; feed shining He (Bevis) would not give it Nor guard use sat upon understands back pay for grain stop nearly Prevented capture caught; cunning ruse wondrous; hear seven years chains No food Hay; oats; clear Except; cord from a balcony No one dared approach Where; fetters pain hair; grew to his feet lizards; many toads attempted; their venom But club flying adder age; coal again; adder rose took away head brain stuck to his out of; swoon beat; small pieces fiends bonds great pain Little; less [he] ate lack; care; (see note) scar (seam) delirious; sick Mournfully Maker done so wrong see; will allow enemies; foes (see note) your hither; go drawn or hanged I do not care hence taken jailers; guard cry out Thief; then your life's days are done caesar; sorrow Very soon lamp fell very time of suffering lies Middle (waist); feet saddle horse Damascus; had it not been for give a button (would not care) (see note) avenged; (see note) fist bursts companion Come knotted reach rueful retort Saint Mohammed By; glide quickly thief said longer slid; (see note) missed weapon man set are they dead lies in chains ate nor drank accustomed; every other day barley-loaf For food; dinner keepers prayed a prayer granted eagerly fetters off; belly He But far; near watchtower torches Twelve; found there guard unfastened did indeed go in iron clothes (chain mail) best; handy girt himself; sword many their wantonness betray fight slain dressed voice did name Make haste; open escaped I am capture confused Armenia away from got very sleepy tied; chestnut tree dream have slain afraid crazy indeed short while by common assent assembled there gone very valiant name; called worth weight in silver spurred went forth [to] win much honor Surrender; (see note) Your god here; alone mastery; slay have I had neither God willing attempt blow to please (pay) you clashed burst; pieces Their meadow torn [by] their strokes fire flies; from flint morning; noon; (see note) angered greatly withstood armor; quilted jacket saddlebow foot Then well done I will do you one better his; falchion at; wrist taken away time cut off; his head corpse at that moment When would not remain bestrode rode host cliff sea he must [go], certainly Or asked a favor Maker (see note) know nothing of sin; (see note) kind sin That bested you as easily on this horse sinned die here He raised himself [out of the water] because of hunger; time Once I had; earldom swift quickly slice; loaf mount lowland and upland lady soon saw her rode meal's measure Unless elsewhere; here receive giant believes in like dogs oath lovable or loathsome fear, whichever would not go from the gate Before In length thirty feet lever (club) Bevis' horse caught thief Where did you steal brother's gave [a] cap priest; (see note) archdeacon go I will not let you live Nor I you anger by measure (tally) peace But he failed; device (he missed) killed go forth Laughing get away from me made; angry swept rushed heaved flew acres across wrath cut in two; club (lever) wound hand spear hurled became nearly mad showed; powerful in two give me food hatred every dish was served damage he drew To stop up his wound here joyfully provide appointed he lept touched meadow Lord Grant that; (see note) pain avenged satisfied patriarch; quickly confessed his weal (success); woe (failure) Unless; virgin toward evening Early Unless; an army assembled stepfather hurry on death each asked about the other's situation laughed have Suffered; chill pains Through; deceit yield; well (a good idea) time far ingenuity credit it all were it not for his his slayer Against since amusement contented bolted in truth mire gathered [Arondel] annoyed happy tell as loyal As Yonder God [let him] prosper he; moving on none like it pilgrim bedchamber for love's sake; (see note) Fetch; clothes bargain dismounted clothed pilgrim's staff; coat as a wretched person many diverse [kinds of] lands goods feed them noon saw early before then Walk (turn); tower go in turret lived to see trust also wont such mourning go all pushed forward remained [behind] honor first preside at the feast courteous throughout spiced wine So well; partaken (see note) people; story who were there new At home told; story treasure here disfigured Boniface; call By Were not; man's brow all torn fashion speak legitimate; voice chains; rent asunder quickly neighed; (see note) doomed; (see note) permission tie; where reward went moved my dear reckon have spoken remember fetch go; then Home; country suffered virgin by you Lead; your unless; virgin; (see note) foes smock alone agreement follow [my] advice; (see note) numerous gone away everyone horsemanship; (see note) harm first; lie at; wait right then Who are you traveled widely from [days'] journey Unless in haste host effort led bade went staff and purse by pilgrim's cloak rough and unfitted yellow; [down] to his breast waist; hair eyes throng noon many give accurate account Wonder afar peace; war Bethlehem Emmaus; Sinai India; Europe; Asia Tarsus; Sicily; Saxony Friesland; Sidon; Tyre wherever Except killed torched cliff surrounded situation know Immediately; there; (see note) themselves instantly (see note) together guard ready go necromancy gold ring herb quickly broach (a cask) of Rhenish herb nod off on their very take saw gone cried out To arms truly armor go try many days staff Though could not find them so angry destroy; (see note) indeed passed starved food [ask for] you know forest savageness stag; doe prepared live easily sauce shoot; ready Gnashing; standing (as lions rampant); (see note) very quickly shut [herself] ferocity (see note) nature virgin queen harm stags bone swooned understand what happened fear To avenge steward killed held boast; worth reproach cruel listen carefully to the end may their souls go Before; beware vehemently thigh discouraged mad rushed great trouble eager nearly; killed Scarcely he protected himself sheared unfortunately anguish knew split the lion's head in two Courageously hearty gladly seized Unless would slay her As gladly as Again; run gripped; (see note) sheep almost; tore out his calf place His greviously cut back the earth very glad When they (the lions) could; show victory then; saw (see note) giant loathsome semblance In length shaggy brows club small trunk; oak he was called whether large here to slay Garcy's driven delicate dwarf stronger; ten others spurred Arondel's flanks Against step backward one foot he slipped off his cut off his head delayed servant he will betray us bail he (Ascopard) did; homage fast ship fierce But they (Saracens); mariner good club; took them (the Saracens) he bore quickly without delay; (see note) harbor; Cologne uncle altogether wise chance who dear beautiful lady Be christened by you (see note) made; font hell's pain too large; christened Josian's christening (see note) (see note) firebreathing dragon except those two Apulia; (see note) Calabria together (i.e., each other) peace without doubt destroyed curse became as dragons together hermit Who had received; mercy he requested; favor soon very place no more voice his prayer together flew; (see note) thence Tuscany; (see note) took his flight Saint Peter's bridge lay dormant Judgment Day moves his vapor recover will not believe Ask; have been there flew delay cliff ears; rough forehead (whole face) inches around hair; throat; (see note) loathsome maned without fail strength it was in length wine tun; (see note) When the bright sun shone as glass [If] you will stay awhile torches A vision came to him; mad He thought he might not remain it seemed to him suffering [abruptly] awakened dream mournful; (see note) lie; swollen Nor do I have any remedy at all; (see note) ever I was born immediately valiant fight hereabout he lies; swollen lying where the dragon was where are you here; do you want may I prosper Gladly steel armed himself; sword wondrous As if afraid companion marvelous is close defeated fairest prize Saint; (see note) (see note) must get away tired; must turn back Against Roaring against him rapidly; (see note) Yawning; gaping swallow the earth jumped back Like; stone burst into quickly noon greatly irritated one; withstand fiercely assailed him in the middle of lasted dark thirst would burst go quickly even in two (see note) dwelling dared not come near forty feet perceived indeed He took off his helmet cooled; pure from; (see note) or called on; Saint George; (see note) eager spirit (inspiration) arose lasted cut All became (fared) foul leper rankle; swell fall apart neck armor from his [chain mail] a thousand links (see note) raised Lazarus fiend chain mail where he stood fiercely helmet; in two basinet; (see note) Twice he rose third time he lay face up He did not know; (see note) healed; injury recovered; courage whole Christianity unsheathed cut in two; head pan (skull) strokes; time throat; (see note) throat-ball (Adam's apple) its gaped very; (see note) handle delay greeted (see note) dirge for; grace One day Dear uncle; news stepfather Devon uncle Germany believes by; advice I give you manfully Against Stalwart; fierce go to many times protect; guard lady my foe means (device) My natural heritage guide; advise Protect; harm I have no man; I dread put you [in the hands of]; holy Mary As soon as you can; return every one given hill take my counsel anyone so hardy dares here; division ready (see note) am called by agreement victory I am confident If; pay my hire one man readily eloquently (see note) together same he was called very quickly (see note) young impudent spirit evil boy As soon as inheritance money in shame; disgrace ran away there; uncle baronage here stay for a while army pay armor difficulty quickly each one right away on my behalf Prepare assault Saber hear; cunning trick supplied victuals for sure left none saw tower raised somewhat afraid Fight; many times dread mast's top banner carried it into battle drew into praised lawful afraid quickly Where Each began to kiss the other done; trick dares I am not named Gerard agreement rule his wife is my mother anger together try to avenge hearty one ruins at once boat quickly as he sat supped he was not called agreement avenged disgrace [the emperor's] son Take away aim suitable the emperor's table groped your wife too lowly at night; (see note) worked almost lost your sight Here; a poor gift pricked; spur ran (hightailed) conducted himself he slew [the emperor's] son in anger anger; amusement uncle Miles woo change her mind i.e., "Nothing doing" angry Since; would not listen to him lamentation should I stop it anger; army threat trick compose isle width quickly at once boat unlocked; start locked him securely; trap return hold back protect herself, indeed [Isle of] Wight bade; stop must husband ordered them; lowest and highest honor espousal Their; arrayed; (see note) when commanded [that she be] led to bower covers (see note) spiced wine; spices tricks drunk But amused; gaiety not at all favor unless very beginning [neither] man nor; here Lock secret things modest particularly gladly servants young men shut; key Little he thought; doomed Your boon; in good faith shoes; take off prepared As many [servants] have done cover; rail-tree; (see note) quickly a riding knot (noose) In the morning hunt workmen toward noon Said some toward noon again I will go up and see reach (see note) head; ache fortified drink; (see note) handled; pain Yesterday; illegitimately despoil women condemned In a barrel; burn Outside; set up There; fire gathered wood and fuel town, saw tricked him; deceit locked shattered sailor leapt fisherman; at once thought; some fiend flew caught fire; hasten overtook have you been confess receive (see note) came running killed; very place found around; fire his effort their way message many lands in haste most stalwart anywhere nearly died fear not good counsel host in haste pain grayhaired loathful to me ready gone leaf; begin to birds know annoyed sold long ago wish; (see note) Earthly skin fiend fear Though hands; (see note) swiftly pitched pavilions; field machinery (see note) tower sighted cross gray regret; (see note) To arms; say besiege divisions lead out field know; doubt not caught be lost brave called; quickly To arms; battle (see note) (see note) his gray beard somewhat sharp instant stepfather knocked; off meant; his head off or more They took the emperor away from Bevis angry his club as He struck down pleased called rides hire slew giant's stroke withstand slap moment delay grabbed; rein Like it or not carried yes indeed assembled no one escaped victory avenged himself together satisfaction; joy; mirth to make certain his stepfather was dead At once; lead kettle pitch; brimstone; (see note) molten lead all at once seethed in death at his ending soul seething; saw very woeful; shock broke her neck mother; stepfather Mother, forgive blow nor knock shire of Hampton fealty; homage customary avenged [Josian] married lack describe not the wedding know; royal estate first together advised Go London knelt courteously he greets I am called the earl for his lady avenged baronage heritage Gladly Saint marshal Bring; staff were reconciled; strife Pentecost; (see note) course; prepared; (see note) test all the steeds pleased trusted horses stolen (sneaked onto) two; ahead Before any man knew it was done learned; immediately shook overtook them raise reached chattel for Many; praised run well commanded Even if; let me horses Since; not give it to him steal custom crowned marshal staff; should bear i.e., as marshal foolish Why tell a lie He went got too close to then; immediately hind dashed out mourning horses barons; allow property lose protect heir; here horse his squire Saber's son learned hasten; (see note) betray where have you been [I] have because of her; distress Okay fear I require iron armor rode to Armenia suddenly in labor got down hut constructed; (see note) they knew of no better plan offered her his service (see note) (see note) return hence now let me and Our Lady be; (see note) together So they would not hear her pains [for] that decorous behavior too far away When gave birth to twin boys; (see note) As passing by armed; teeth beat; swords moment beaten; bound noble favor guarantee; should take pity time natural Modest villainy As long as So that; secret physic; surgery (medicine) teachers grass (herbs); Toledo good; bad (medicines; poisons) value seem to resemble leper tarrying had not ridden appearance; complexion When distress give you his curse Lead together what she needed delaying keeper (warden) took his way hut heathen; (see note) As when they were born swooned raised himself up cursed bitterly at that moment Ascopard's; his cut; furs; ermine clothed leaped Did you see manner of man are you Christ be gentle [with] you Will you; baptize abandoned on my behalf pay; reward be called Guy; is named Until; age he hastened fisherman gave; (see note) look after had named; Miles hill dismounted had prepared for them covered hostess places she; truly decreed heir (see note) tourney; for the sake of (see note) (see note) refuse lark's ornamented arms eagles; azure field; [made in] Toledo; (see note) finely made trumpeters; trumpets then assembled clashed; mad while lost Asia Hoped to win rank violence falchion struck down home duke Nubia; lie rump did throw down wounded rave won bested tower; saw Either; or pure promise dreamed; wound Saint James; Saint Giles; (see note) dream lost equip pilgrims' clothes pilgrims' staffs arrayed Greek sea; (see note) Good; weather ask and inquire as well guard companions moment (see note) survey saw voice name send pilgrim's coat; took off together pressed strike trouble truly skin arrayed; garb seek Seven years might Greece treasure provision fiddle Dances; notes; flourishes knew; strategy went; (see note) pence from a minstral each and every Their sustenance show advance food realized Our Lady good Cross gladly choice food [whom] you are like embraced hugged arrayed a more lovely sound Lord befallen Would that I; sound thought countenance fenced; (see note) jousts to grayhaired Pitched sorely afraid Because of the ill will; (see note) he would right away army (host); delay slew; many in total (see note) ransom beds; silk cups as many; brass strength gray with his crown crowned him kingdom died soul blows unlearned; learned stopped annoyed (see note) thief trial knew how; to steal stole knew (see note) pay for; (see note) leave turn; (see note) He dreamed; saw cut up started up; dream exactly dreamed delay know desperate state lost intuit pretty well purse; staff; (see note) with haste taken robber; stole a while ago grieves Unless; again watered; warhorse waited warhorse strong rump spike; staff did implore eyes so angry turret; (see note) reward; (see note) host die; (see note) To arms; shrilly attack help their slew followed; eagerly return nearly died cunning Fill; cup in haste emirs They set up; field artillery embraced in his arms Judas (Iscariot) Advise company company out here on your part ourselves honor borough Their gloves pledge isle Where who command prayed for Saint angry went coat of mail; blow belts; asunder On foot falchions Each fire erupted as if a torch burned fierce; stroke strike six in the morning till noon; (see note) before circle; his crest grass hair pierced prayers [will] become tamed; (see note) grew; anger Repay reach out time pain killed warded him off with his shield anger fly tamed Before wrist lost could withstand warded off; shield rush Receive; soul cry out let yourself be baptized before you die prosper Christian pronouncement helmet-front placed when contest raised up there radiant twice went hawking to infamy Disinherited; heir (see note) noble (see note) courageous; try many came; in haste to land Saber's wife quickly Toward beginning taken thrive avenged left quickly left; Putney went Thames Westminster found nobly baronage Gladly; my son peace banished returned company Tower his lodging food as his enemy Cheapside Hear so happens remember Very soon no armor bars catapults barricaded About this; knew not understood foes tavern cause seen open his six armed himself; sword double bold Bevis Yield make known certainly blow Dead he fell lost vile slander while galloped; Cheapside as a mob fled time numerous throng strike space of time woebegone alone advice narrowly built not defend himself Nor had he; his escape go chains; held him back two pieces in a mob Yield weapon noon; (see note) comported himself while given painful blows loyal before evensong Putney; (see note) swooned picked Nobly know avenge their by; harrowed hell; (see note) purchase dearly mother's blessing Arabian horse he departed violence camel spur; spare in return (see note) hear on fire not a single one withstood us wicked; villainous strong violence huge club dazed anguish quickly he proceeded clove fire ask for a doctor (see note) succor eagerly Thames 32,000 hall [with the] lead roof; (see note) brought; retinue indeed killed citizens grief (dole, mourning) lived war old age peace espoused Nottingham feast; royal enough spousing (wedding) crowning indeed Hampshire sailed from baronage grief; injury her passing dead before died; together son Saint Lawrence; raise up; (see note) marble fine cast; noble art house of religion (church or monastery) noble souls pray His |