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Jhesu Crist, of heven Kyng, Graunt us all good endyng And beld us in Hys bowre; And gef hem joye that love to here Of eldres that before us were And lyved in grett antowre. I woll you tell of a knyght That was both hardy and wyght, And stronge in ylke a stowre; Of dedys of armys that he myght here He wan degré with jurnay clere,1 And in felde the floure. In Artas he was geten and born, And all his eldres hym beforn. Lestenyth, I wyll yow say. To dede of armys he ys went, Wyth the Erle of Artas is he lent For deernes, nyght and day. Syr Prynsamour the erle hyght, Syr Eglamour men call the knyght That dughty was evyr and ay. And this erle hadde hym in wold; To dedes of armes he was bold For to no man seyde he nay. The Erle had nevyr child but on, That was a dowghtir, white as fom, Hys ryche eyr schulde be. The maydens name was Cristabell, A feyrer thing of flesch ne fell Was none in Cristyanté. Syr Eglamour so hym bare In all the worlde he loved no mare Then that lady bryghth of blee; Certeynly, both day and nyght, So dyd sche that nobyll knyght, Hit was the more pyté! The knyght was both bold and stronge Therfor the lady loved hym longe. Lestenyth, I wyll you tell. Syr Eglamour, he gart crye Of dedys of armes, wyttyrly, For love of Crystabell. Ther com lordes of fer lond To aske her, I undyrstond, With fers folke and fell. What manere man her wold have, So sore buffettys he hem gave For ever he gart them to dwelle.2 Tyl hit befell upon a day, The knyght to his sqwyer gan say In chambur ther he gan reste, "Belamy, and thou kowdest leyne, A counsell I wold to the sayne - Thou walkest both est and west." "Yys, sir," he seyd, "per ma fay, What so evur ye to me say I schall hit nevur out kast." "The Erles doughtur, so God me save, The love of her but I hit have My lyf may not long last." The sqwyere seyde, "So mote I the, Ye have tolde me your pryvyté; I schall you gyf answere. Ye ar a knyght of lytyll lond, Take not to evyll, I undirstond, For mykyll wolde have more. Yif I went to that lady and told her so, Perauntur on skorn take hit wold scho And lyghtly lett me fare. Syr, a mon that hewyth ovyr hye Lyghtly the chyppus fallen in his eye, Thus happis hyt ofte aywhare. "Syr, bethynke the of thys thynge, Ther wowes here emperour and kynge And dukes that ar bolde, Erles, barouns and knyghtis also, Yytt wyll sche none of all tho But evur in goodnes her holde. Sche wold never a kyng forsake And a sympull knyght take, Butt yif your lufe wer olde. I swere be God, heven kynge, Wyste her fadyr of sych a thyng Full dere hytt scholde be solde!" The knyght answered with wordes mylde, "My sqwyer, sethen thou was a chylde Thow hast ben lened with me: In dede of armes, in many a stowre, Wher saw thou evur my dyshonowre? Sey on, so God save the!" "Nay, syr, be Jhesu bryghth! Ye ar on of the noblest knyghth That ys knowen in Cristyanté. In dede of armes, be God on lyve, Ye ar counted worth othur fyve." "Gramarcy, syr," seyde he. The knyghth sykud and seyd, "Alas!" Mornyng tyll his bed he gas That rychely was wroght. Both his handys he cast up sone, To Jhesu Crist he made his bone, To that Lord that us bowght. "The Erles dowghtur, that swete thyng, She myght be myn at myn endyng, On her ys all my thoght. That I myght wedde her to my wyfe And sythen kepe her all my lyfe; Owt of care then were I browght." Uppon the morn the maydyn small Sche ete befor hyr fadyr in hall Among her berdes bryghth. All gentyllmen sembled butt he; The lady seyde, "For Goddes pyté, Wher ys Syr Eglamour, my knyghth?" Hys sqwyer answered with sympull chere, "He ys seke and deed full nere; He prayes yow of a syght. He ys kest into such care Butt ye hym help he wyll mysfare, He lyves not tyll nyghth." The Erle to his dowghtyr spake, "Damysell," he sayde, "for Goddis sake Herken what I schall yow say; Aftyr mete do as the hende, To his chambur that ye wende. He hath served us many a day, Full trewly in hys entent; In justyng and in turnament He seyde us nevyr nay. In dede of armes, wher he myght here, He wynnes the gre with jurnay clere, My worschyp evyr and ay." Aftyr mete the lady gent Dose her fadyr commawndement: She takes leve to wende. To the chawmbur gan sche go, And with here toke maydens two Ther as the knyght gon lende. Then seyde that lady, whyte as flowr, "How fares my knyth, Sir Eglamour, That dowghty ys aywhare?" "Damesell, as ye may se, Thus am I cast for love of the, In angur and in care." The damesell seyd, "So mote I the, And ye have any care for me My herte ys wondur sore." "And I myght turne unto lyve, I wolde wedde you to my wyfe, Yyf that your wyll hyt wore." The lady swere, "Be Crystus myght, For thou art a nobyll knyghte And comen of gentyll blode, And evur trewe undur thy schylde Thou wynnes the gre in every fylde, Worschypfully, be the Rode. I wyll avyse me of this yytt, And at my fadyr wyll I wytt Yyf that his wyll be good. As I am lady feyr and gent, When my fadyr and I ar at assent I feyle you for no good!" The knyght kepeth no more blys When he hadde gette sent of this, Butt makes full good chere. He bad hys sqwyer for to gan And two hundur pownde for to tan, To geve hyr maydens clere. "Damysels," he sayde, "so God me save, This to your mariage schall ye have For ye be gyntyll and dere." She takes her leve at the knyght And thonkes hym anon ryght, And seyde, "Farewell, my fere!" Crystabell has taken the way To hir fadir chambur, as it lay, That made was of ston. He sayd, "Welcom dowghtur, as white as flour, How fares thy knyght, Sir Eglamour?" She answered hym anon, "Grete othes he me sware That he ys coverd of mykyl car, And good comfort to hym tane. He tolde me and my maydens hend That to-morn he wolde wende Wyth his hawkes ylkane." The Erle sayde, "So mote Y the, I schall ryde to se hem fle For comfort of the knyght!" The Erl buskys and made hym yare To ryde forth to se the fare, And beholde that semyly syght. Tyll a wrathe fyll betwen hem two, Ore hyt nyghed the nyght thoo, Yyf ye wyll lysten and lere. As they rode homward by the way The knyght to the Erle gan say, "Good lord, wyll ye me here?" "Ye," he sayde, "so mote Y the, What so ever thou seyst to me Hyt ys me lefe and dere; For on of the best knyghtes art thou That in my londe lyveth now Owther fer or nere." "Good lord, for charyté, Cristabell, your dowghtyr fre, When shall she have a fere?" The Erle sayd, "So God me save, I knowe non that hyr schall have, Sche ys so bryght of ble!" The knyght gan the Erle pray, "Lord, I have served the many a day: Wouche ye her save on me." "Ye, syr," he sayde, "be Cristys payne, Yyf thou hir wynne as I schall sayne Wyth dedes of armes thre, Browke thou well my dowghtyr dere, And all Artas, both ferre and nere, I holde therto," seyde he. The knyght sware, "So mote I the, At my jurnay wolde I be, Yyf I wyste evere where!" The Erle sayde, "Her by weste Ther wones a gyaunt in the forest, Syche on thou sawe nevyr ere. Cypré treys growe ther fayre and longe, Grete hertys walken hem amonge, The fayrest that on fote may fare. Wend thedur and fett me on away And then dar I savely say That thou haste ben thare." "Be Jhesu!" sware the knyght than, "Yyf he be a Cristen man I schall hym nevyr forsake. Holde wele my lady and my lond." "Yys," sayd the Erle, "lo, her my hond." Hys trowthe to hym he strake. Aftyr mete, as I you telle, He toke lefe at Cristabell, And thus then seyde he, "Damysell, now as a man For thy love have I tan Dedes of armes thre." "Syr," she sayde, "make yow gladde. For hardure jurnay nevur ye hadde, Be God, in no countré. Or thy jurnay shall all passe For my lofe thou may say 'Alas!' And I well more for the. Sir knyght, to huntyng when thou fondis I shall gefe the two grehondys; As I am trewe gentyll woman and fre. Ther was nevyr best that on fote ran Butt they woll full sone hym tan, So swyfte bothe they be. "Also a good swerde I schall geve the, Sent Pole fond it in the Grekes see, Of egge syche knowe I none. Ther was never helme made of stele And thou have happe to hit hym wele Butt hyt woll thorowgh gone." He sayde, "God yelde you, lady gent." He toke his leve and forth he went; His weys has he tane. A brode gate he helde faste Tyll ho come to the foreste, Suche on sawe he nevyr nane. Cypré treys were growen owte; The wode was walled all abowte, Well corven of ryall stone. Forth he wente, I undurstonde, To a brode gate ther he fonde And in ther ys he gone. He blewe hys horn in that tyde; Hertys rose on yche a syde; A nobyll dere he chose. Hys hondes began for to bay, That herde the gyaunt ther he lay And repys hym on a rese. "Me thynkes howndes that I here, Some thefe ys come to stele my dere - Hym were well bettyr sese. Be hem that me gette and borne, In wers tyme blewe he never horne, Nor derrere bowghth he flesch!" Arrok the gyaunt has tane the wey To his forest gate as hyt lay; Hys bakke he sette thertylle. Be that Sir Eglamour had done the dede, A gret hert sleyn and tane the hede, The prise he blewe full schyrlle. He come ther the gyaunt was And sayde, "Good sir, lett me pas, Yyf hit be your wylle." "Nay, thef! traytour! thou art tane! My chef hert thou hast sclayne; That schalt thou lyke full ylle." The gyaunt to the knyght ys gon With a clubbe of yren in his honde tan, Full mykyll and unryde. Grete strokes to hym he gafe; Into the erthe flewe his staffe Too fote on ylke a syde. "Thefe, traytour! What doos thou here In my forest to stele my dere? Thefe, her schalt thou abyde!" Syr Eglamour his swerde out drowgh And to the gyaunt he gafe a swogh, And blynded hym in that tyde. All yyf the lordan had lost his syght Thus he fyghtys with the knyght All the day full yare, Tyll on that othur day at prime Syr Eglamour waytes his tyme And to the erthe hym bare. He thonkis Crist that all schall welde; At the grownd downe he hym helde. The thefe began to rare. Sith he meted hym, as I you say, On the grownde as he lay Fyfty fote and mare. He thonked God and his knyfe That he beraft the gyant his lyfe, And loved ay Goddis lore. Syr Eglamour ys gon hys way With the gyantes hed, as I you say, To a castell made of stone. All the countré come hym agayn, Siche an hed, as they seyn, They sawe nevur non. Before the Erle he hit bare: "Lo, lorde, I have ben thare!" That bere they wyttenes ylkane. Make we mery, so have we blysse. For thys ys the fyrst fytte, I wys, Of Sir Eglamour that he has tane. "What," seyd the Erl, "and this poynt be don? Thow getys anothur jurnay sone: Buske the forth to fare! In Sydon, that ryche countré, Ther dar no man abyde ne be For dredyng of a bare: Best and man, all sleys he That he may with ye se, And wondes them wondur sore. His tusschus passen a yerd longe: The flesch that they fasten amonge Hyt coveres nevyr more." The nobyll knyght, he seyd not nay. Upon the morn, when yt was day, Hys lefe then takes he. Forth he wente, I undyrestonde, A fortnyght jurnay on the londe And als mykyll be the see, Tyll agayn an evyn tyde In a forest ther he gan ryde As the bore was wont to be. Tokenyng of hym sone he fond: Sleyn men on ylke a hond, That grymly it was to se. Sir Eglamour rest hym undur an ake Tyll on the morn that he gan wake, The sonne rose and schone. Aftyr into the forest he drowgh, Of the see he herde a swowgh And thydur the knyght ys gon. Bryght helmes fond he strowed wyde where That men of armes had leved there; The wykked bore had hem sleyn. Tyll a clyf of stone then rydes he And seys the bore com fro the see; Hys morn drynke has tane. The bor saw hym ther he stode And whetted his tuskys as he were wode, And to hym come on syde. Sir Eglamour wendis well to do, With a spere he rydys hym to Als fast as he myght ryde. Yyf that he rode nevyr so faste Hys good spere asownder brast; The hed wolde not in hym hyde. The bore come to hym with a schowe: Hys good stede undur hym he slowe, And afote the knyght moste abyde. Tyll a bownke he sette his syde At a full hye roche that tyde, And behylde the swyn thare. Hys nobyll swerde he drowgh out syne And fyghtes with the wylde swyne Thre dayes and mare. Tyll on the fowrth day abowt none He thowght hys lyfe was nere done For fyghtyng with the bore. The knyghte can no bettur rede; He stroke at the swynes hede, Hys tuskes then brake he thore. He thankys Cryst that ylke stounde He has geve the bore dedde wounde, The boke of Rome thus gan telle. The kyng of Sydon on huntyng is gon With men of armes many on; The bore then herde he yelle. He comaunded a sqwyer for to fare: "Sum man ys fyghtyng with the bare I trow full well he dwelle." A sqwyer rydes to a clyfe of stone And sygh a knyght lyyng hym on With swerd scharpe and felle. The sqwyer hoves and beholdes them two; Agayn to the kyng then wold he go And seyde, "Lorde, the bore ys sleyn!" "Seynt Mari!" seyd the kyng, "Hou may that be?" "Yys, syr, a knyght on hym I se, Be God, he has ben hys bane. He beris of gold a well fayr syght: A stede of asar, and a knyght All armed for to gon. The crest on his hed hit ys A lady of golde in hyr ryches; Hys sperys of sabull ylkon." The kyng swore, "So mot I the! Tho gentyll armes wyll I se." And thethur he takes the way. Be that hadde Syr Eglamour Ovyrcomyn that styf stowre, And ovyrtwart the bore he lay. The kyng sayde, "God reste with the." "Lord, wellcome," he seyde, "mote ye be. Of thees I yow pray. I have so fowghtyn with this bore That, be my feyth, I may no more; This ys the fowrthe day." The kyng swore, "Be Cristis myghte, Here schall no man with the fyght. Grett synne it were the to tene; Thou hast sleyn this wylde bare That has ben ferre and wyde whare, And mony mannys bone has he bene. Worshypfully with thy schylde Thou hast sleyn hym in the felde - That we have alle sene. I have wist, sythen I was mon of aray, That he hath sleyn syxté on a day, Well armed men and clene." Ryche metys forth they browghte, The Raynysh wyn forgat they noght, Whyte clothes sone were spradde. The kyng sware, "So mote I the, I schall dyne for love of the; Thow hast be strongly stadde." Aftyr mete, as I you say, The kyng con the knyght pray Of what lond he was. He sayde, "My name ys Antorus, I dwelle with Syr Prins Amorus The Erle of Artas." Knyghtes nere the kyng drowgh: "Thys ys he that Arrok slowgh, The gyaunt brodyr Marras." The kyng prayes the knyght so fre Thoo dayes with hym to be Or that he dede ferrere pas. "Ther ys a gyaunt here besyde; My dowghtyr that ys so mykyll of pride He wolde have here me fro, And I dar no where ryde out Butt men of armes be me abowt; Selden have I don so. This wylde bore that thou hast slyen here He has ben fedde this fyftene yere Crysten men to slo. Now ys he gon, with care inowgh, To bery hys brodyr that thou slowgh; That evyrmore be hym woo." To byrten the bore they went tyte; Ther was no knyfe in hym wold byte So hard of hyde was he. "Sir Antours," seyde the kyng, "thou hym slowgh; I trow thy knyfe be good inowgh Yyf thy wyll be." The knyghte is to the bore gon And cleves hym be the rygge bon, Grett joye hyt was to se. "Lord," seyd the knyght, "I gart hym falle: Gyfe me the hed and take the alle, Ye wotte yt ys my fee." Aftyr cartus have they sent, Agayn the none hom they went, The cyté was them full nere. All the comenté was full fayn That the wykkyd bore was sleyn; They made full good chere. The qwene seyd, "God schild us fro shame. When Marras the gyaunt cometh han Newe tydynd gete we here." Syr Eglamour, the nobyll knyght, Was set with the kyngus dowghtyr ryght, For that he schulde be blythe. The maydens name was Organate, Sche prays the knyght good chere to make And hym besekys fast mony a sythe. Aftyr mete sche gon hym telle How a gyaunt wolde them qwelle, And he begynus to lythe. "Damysell," he seyde, "so mote I the, Yyf he come whylys I her be I schall hym swythe." Ageyn the evyn the kyng gart dyght A bath for the gentyll knyght Of erbys that were goode; And all the nyght therinne he lay Tyll on the morn that hyt was day, That men to matens yode. Be that the kyng had herd his masse The fowle gyaunt comen wasse And cryed as he were wode. "Syr kyng," he sayd, "send out to me Organate, thy dowghtyr fre, Or I schall spylle thy blode!" Syr Eglamour, the nobyll knyght, Armes hym anon ryght And to the walles wendes he; The bores hed he dyde forth bere And sette hit upon a spere, That Marras myght hyt se. The gyaunt loked upon the hed: "Allas, my bore, art thou ded? My trust was mykyll in the. Be the lawe that I lefe inne, My lytyll spotted hogelynne, Dere bowght thy lyfe schall be!" The gyaunt on the walles dong; At ylke a stroke the fyre out sprong For nothyng wold he spare. Into the cyté he cast a crye, "Theves, traytours, ye shall abye For sleyng of my bare. The ston wallis I woll down dynge, And with my hondis I wyll you hynge Or that I fro you fare!" Thorowgh the grace of God, or hyt were nyght, The gyant had his fyll of fyght And sum dele mare. "Syr Awntours," seyd the kyng then, "I rede we armes all men Yondyr fend wyll felly fyght." Tho swere he, "Be the Rode, I schall asaye hym were he wode. Full mykyll ys God of myght." Syr Eglamour was noght abasth: The help of God was all his trast, And on his swerde so bryght. He rydes a cours to sey his stede; He toke hys helme and forth he yede. Alle they prayde for that knyghte. Syr Eglamour the felde has tane: The gyaunt hym sey and thedur ys gane And seyde, "Art thou comen, my fere? I trow thou helped my bore was sleyn: Thow schalt abye or thou fare hen, And that ryght dere!" Syr Eglamour wendes well to tho: Wyth a spere he rydes hym to As man of armes clere. The gyaunt made hym bowne: Hors and man he smote downe The knyght was dede full nere. The knyght sawe no bettyr rede When hys nobyll stede was dede But on fote to he ys gon. Forth to hym he gan go, Hys ryghte arme he stroke hym fro Faste by the schulder bon. All if the lordan had lost hys hand, All day stondes he fast fyghtand Tyll the sonne to reste was gon; Then was he so wery he myght no more, The blode ran so faste hym fro That lyf dayes had he non. All that in the cyté ware, When they herde the thefe rare, For joye the bellys gon rynge. Edmund was the kynges name "Syr Aunterus," he seyd, "be Seynt Jame, Here shalt thou be kynge! Tomorn schall I crowne the, And thou schalt wedde my dowghtyr fre With a full ryche ryng." He answered with wordys mylde, "God gyfe the joye of thy chylde For here may I not lyng." "Syr knyght, for thy dowghty dede I schall the gyfe a nobyll stede, Als reed as any ron. In justenyng ne in turnament Thow schalt suffre no dethes dent Why thou fyghtys hym on." Then seyde Organate, the swete thyng, "I schal you gyfe a good gold ryng Wyth a full ryche ston; Whethur ye be on watyr or on lond, And this rynge be on your hond, Ther schall no dede you sclon." He seyd, "God yelde you, lady clere!" "Ye, syr, I schall abyde you fyftene yere, Tyll ye wyll me wedde." The knyght seyde, "Per ma fay, Be fyftene yere I schall you say How that I have spedde." The knyght takes hys lefe to fare, With the gyaunt hed and the bare, The wey our Lord hym lede. This ys the secund fytte of this: Makes mery, so have Y blys! For thus ferre have I red. Or that fyftene wekys wer comen to ende In the lond of Artas he gon lende, Ther the Erle was. All the comynté wer full fayn That he in qwarte was comen agayn, And all that he fonde in that place. Cristabell herd of his comynge home: Agayn the knyght sche ys gon: "Syr," sche sayde, "how have ye fare?" "Damysell," he sayd, "well, and traveled sare To bryng us both out of care." Ther he kyssed the lady full yare. Now into the halle ys he wente The Erle to good entent, To the he des alle bedene. The hedes two the knyght down leyde: "Lo, lord," the knyght seyde, "In Sydon have I bene." Therfor was the Erle full woo, And sayde, "Ther may no devell the slo, Be Mary, so I wene! Thow art abowte, I undirstande, To wynne all Artas of my honde And my dowghtyr schene!" The knyght seyde, "So mote I the, Not but I wordy be. Help God, that ys best." "On schall come and pay for all," The Erle seyd. "So hit schall befall, Yyf thou be nevyr so prest." The knyght prayes the Erle so fre "Twelfe wykes that thou graunt me, My bones for to reste." And for the prayng of gentyllmen Twelfe wykes he graunt hym then - No lenger wolde he hym frist. Aftyr sowper, as I you tell, He wendys to chaumbyr with Cristabell, Ther were lampus brennyng bryght. The lady was not to hyde, Sche sette hym on here ryght syde And seyde, "Wellcome, syr knyght!" "Damysell," he seyde, "so have I spedde, With the grace of God I shall you wedde." Thereto here trowthes they plyght. So gracyus he con here tell A poynt of armes that hym befell And there he dwelled all nyght. So be twenty wykys were come and gon, Cristabell, as whyte as fom, All fallen was here hewe. Sche prayes here gentyllwymmen so fre That they wolde leyne here privyté, And to here for to be trewe. The Erle brennes as fyre in care; "Have don, sir knyght, and make the yare Thy jurnay comes all newe!" When Cristabell herd therof sey Sche mornys therfore nyght and day, That all wyttes may rewe. "Syr, at gret Rome, as I the tell, Ther lyves a dragon, fers and fell, Herken what I schall the say. That fend is of so grett renown Ther dar no man neygh the town Be seven myle of way. Arme the, sir knyght, thedur to wende: Loke thou sle hym with thy honde Or els say me nay!" He sayde, "I have don poyntes two, With the grace of God I schall do mo Or els ende for ay." Aftyr mete, as I you telle, He toke hys lefe at Crystabell, Als feyre as flour in felde. "Damysell," he seyd, "ther is a poynt undon: I wyll wend, and com agayn full son Wyth the help of Mary mylde. A good ryng I schall gyfe the: Kepe hyt well, my lady fre, Yyf God send the a chylde." Forth he wente, as I you say: To grete Rome he takes the way To seke that worme so bolde. Tokenyng of hym sone he fonde: Sleyn men on ylke a honde, Be hunders he them tolde. Yyf he wer never so nobyll a knyght, Of the worme when he had a syght Hys herte began to colde. Hyt was no wondur thogh he were wroth: He stroke his stede and hymself both That to the ground they wolde. The knyght arose and his scheld up sett, This wykked worme on hym bett Byttur dyntes and felle. He kest out mony fyre brondes thore, Evyr nere the nyght the more, As hyt walled owt of helle. Syr Eglamour, forsoth I sey, Half hys tonge he stroke away; The fend began to yelle. With the stump that hym was leved He stroke the knyght on the hed A depe wonde and a felle. The knyght seyde, "Now am I schent!" Nere the wykked worme he went, Hys hed he stroke away. And then so nere hym ys he gon He cleves hym by the rygge bon. The felde he wan that day. The Emperour stode in a towre, And sygh the fyght of Sir Eglamour, And to hys men he gan say, "Gart crye in Rome, 'The dragon ys sleyn!' Tha has a knyght don with all his mayn Wurthely, per ma fay!" In grett Rome he gart crye Ilke an ofycer in his baylye, "The worme has evyll endyng!" The Emperour has taken the way To the knyght, ther he lay Besyde that dredfull thyng. And all that myght ryde or gon To Sir Eglamour hyed they thon; With blys they gon hym hom bryng. They are so fayn the worme ys sleyn With processyon they come hym agayn; Radly the bellys they rynge. The Emperour has a dowghtur bryght: Sche has unduretane the knyght - Hyre name was Dyamuntowre. There sche saves hym fro the deed, With here handys sche helys hys heed A twelfmonyth in hyr bowre. Thys ryche Emperour of Rome Sent aftyr the dragone That in the feld was deed. Hys sydys hard as balayne was, Hys wynges were grene as any glas, Hys hed as fyre was reed. When they sawe the hydowes best Mony awey then ronne fest And from hym fled full sone. They metyd hym, forty fote and mo, The Emperour commanded they schuld hym do; Hys wyll most nede be done. To Seynt Lawrans kyrke they hym bare And ther schall he lye evurmare To the day of dome. When the remeved that fowle thyng Mony men fell in swonyng For stynke that from hym come. Letters come to Artas That the dragon of Rome dede was; A knyght has hym slon. So long at lechecraft gon he dwelle, A knave chyld has Crystabelle, As whyte as whalys bon. The Erle gaf to God a vowe: "Dowghtyr, into the see schalt thowe In a schyp alone, And that bastard that ys the dere Cristundam schall non have here!" Hyr maydens wepte ylkon. Yf sche were nevur so fayr ne whyte, Yt was the schip all redy made tyte That sche schulde in fare. Sche lokes on hir child with here ye, "My sone," sche seyde, "we most nede dye!" Sche hadde full mykyll care. The lady that was in care clad, To the schyp they her lad, Sche and hyr frely fode. Hyr chambir wymmen in swonyng gan fall And so dyde hyr fryndes all That wolde hyr any good. Sche seyde, "Fadyr, I you pray That a prest myght me a gospell say For fendes in the flode." Sche prayde here gentyllwymmen fre, "Grete well my lord, when ye hym se." They wepped as they were wode. The lady syked with herte sare, The wynd rose and to a roche here bare And thereon gon sche lende. Sche was full fayn, I undurstonde, Sche wend hyt had be byggyd londe And there up gan sche wende. Nothyng ellys sygh sche dere Butt see fowles that wylde were That fast flew here hende. A grype come in all hyr care, The yong chyld away he bare To a countré unkende. Then the lady sayde, "Allas That evyr I born was! My chylde ys tane me fro!" In the lond of Israell gon he lyght; That wroghte the lade both day and nyght Sorow and mykyll wo. The kyng of Israell an huntyng went; He sygh where the grype was lent And thedur rode with othur mo. He strok on the chylde with his byll; The chyld scryked that greved hym yll - He rose and lefte hym so. A skwyere to the chyld gon passe, In a skarlet mantell wonden he was With a full ryche pane, In that skarlet mantell wounden, With a gyrdyll of golde fast bounden. Hys yen were clere as cristall stane. All they swere be the Rode The child was comen of gentyll blode, Where evur he was tane. For that he fro the grype fell They named hym Degrebell, That wylsome was of wane. The kyng leves huntyng that tyde, Home with the chyld gon he ryde, That from the grype was hent. "Dame," he seyde unto the qwene, "Mykyll of solas have I sene - Thys chyld God has me sent." Thereof sche was both glad and blyth And sent aftur a nurce full swyth. Hys sydus were long and gent. Leve ye the chyld with mykyll honour And speke we of his modur whyte as flour, What weys our Lord here lent. All nyght on the roche sche lay, A wynd rose agayn the day And fro the lond here dryves. Sche had nothere mast ne rothere Butt ylke storme strengere then odur Strongly with her stryves. As the boke of Rome sayes, Sche was meteles syx dayes: Hyr herte for care hyt clevys. Butt the sixte day or none God sent here socoure sone: In Egypte up sche ryves. The kyng of Egypt stod in a toure And sygh the lady whyte as floure, Was wroken on the sonde. He commaundyd a sqwyere to go and se And loke what in the schyp may be; The wynd has dryven hit to londe. For feyntenes sche spake no worde; The lady lyfte up hyr hode And made sygnes with here hond. To the schyp sche come full tyte, And on the syde gan he smyte: The lady gan up stonde. Makes mery, for yt ys beste! For this ys the laste geste That I now take in honde. He wyste never what sche ment; Agayn to the kyng ys he went And kneled on hys knee. "Lord, in the yondur schip nothyng ys But a woman in lykenes That rose and loked on me. A fayrer thyng sawe I never non, Nothere of flesch, blode ne bon, But hyt were Mary fre. Sche makes me synes with her hond As sche were of another lond Beyonde the Grekus see." "Be Jhesu!" sayde the gentyll kyng, "I wyll se that swete thyng." And thethureward he gose. Into the schip he goth anone And bad here speke in Goddys nome. Agayn the kyng sche rose: The damysell that was so mylde Had so greet for here chylde That sche was waxen hose. To a chaumbur they here ledde, Good mete they here bede; With good wyll sche with hem gose. Aftyr mete then freynes the kyng, "When art thou, my swete thyng? For thou art bryght of ble." Sche sayde, "I was born in Artas, Syr Prynsamour my fadyr was, The lord of that countré. Sythen it befell, on a day, I and my madyns went to play Be a syde of the see. The wedyr was lythe and a bote ther stode; I and my sqwyer therin yode - Uncristen man was he! "On lond I leved my maydenes alle, My sqwyer on slepe gon falle, A mantyll over hym I drewe. A wynd rose and tyll a roche us bare, A fowle come to my sqwyere thare And swyftly away hym threwe." The kyng sayde, "Make good chere, Thow art my brodyr dowghtyr dere!" For joye of hym sche lowgh. Leve this lady whyte as floure And speke we more of Sir Eglamour: Now comes to hym care inowgh. When Sir Eglamour was hole and sownd And well covered of hys wond He buskes and makes hym yare. He thankes the Emperour of thys, Hys dowghtyr that was the Emperysse And all that he fond thare. Crystabell was in hys thowght; The dragones hed forgat he noght - On a spere he hyt bare. Be that seven wykes were come to ende In the lond of Artas gon he lende, To hym come letters of care. The countré herde, I undyrstand, That Sir Eglamour was comand With the dragons hed. A sqwyer went agayn hym sone, "Lo, lord, what the Erle has done: Fayre Crystabell ys ded! A knave chyld had sche with hyre borne, Thay have both here lyves lorne - He was both whyte and rede. He has don in the see them two And with the wynd lett hem go." The knyght swoned in that stede. "Lord!" seyde the knyght so fre, "Where evyr the gentyllwymmen be That in chambur with here was?" The sqwyer answered hym full sone, "Lord, in the see when sche was done; Ylkon ther way gon passe." Into the halle gan they fare Among the grete lordes that there ware Before the Erle of Artas. "Have here this dragons hed. All ys myn that here ys leved - Thow syttys in my plas!" A gret rewthe yt was to here How he called aftur Cristabell his fere And sayde, "Art thou in the see? God that dyede on the Crosse On thy sowle have mercy And on thy yong sone so fre." The Erle was ferd of Sir Eglamour: He rose up and toke a towre, That evyrmore woo hym be. "Gentyllmen, so God you save, All that odure of knyght woll have Ryse up and take at me!" Gentyllmen come hym tyll; They were fayn to do his wyll - He gaf them orders sone, And in the halle when he was stad Fyve and thretty knytes he mad Be that othur day at none. And sythen, I understond, He takes the wey to the Holy Lond Ther God on Cros was don. Syr Eglamour, as ye may here, Dwelled in the Holy Lond fiftene yere The heden men among. Full dowghtyly he hym bare There ony dedes of armes ware Agayn them that lyved wrong. Be that the fiftene yere were come and gon, The chyld that the grype had tane Was both stren and stronge. In justenyng nore in tornament Ther myght no man sytte his dent 3 Butt he cast hem to the ground. Syr Degrebell was wyse and wyghte; The kyng of Israell made hym knyght And prynce with hys honde. Lestenes lordynges, both lefe and dere, What armes the chyld bare ye schal here And ye wyll undyrstond. He bare in armere a grype of golde Rychely betyn in the molde. In hys clothys wavond A knave chyld in a mantyll wondyn And with a goldyn gyrdull bowndyn, As he was browght to the lond. The kyng of Israell was old; To Degrebell hys sone he told, "I wold thou haddest a wyfe; For I trow thou art me dere. When I am dede thou getys no pere, In rychesse thou art so ryfe." A messyngere stode by the kyng: "In Egypt wones a swete thyng, The fayrest that ever bare lyfe. The kyng hath hys othe sworne Ther schall no man hyre have that ys born Butt he wynns hyre with stryfe!" He sware then, "And sche bo good Therfore I woll not let, Be the Rode. Han don and buske the swythe!" He commanded a messynger to gon To byd hys knyghtys everylke on That they be there belyve. They busked hem with ryall fare; Armoure to schip they bare And passed the watyr blythe. Be thre wykes were come to ende ln the lond of Egypt con they lende Therefore for to kythe. A messyngere went before to tell, "Here comes the kyng of Israell With a fayre semble! The prins ys comme, with many a knyght, For to wynne your dowghtyr bryght, Yyf your wyll be." He sayde, "Be God, I trowe I schall Fynd redy justyng for them all. Dere wellcome schall they be." Trumpes in topcastels rose, The ryche kyng to londe gose, His knyghtus were clad in pall. The chyld that was of fiftene yere, He gose among hem as ye may here: A fote above hem all. The kyng of Egypt agayn hem gose, The kyng be the hond he tase And ledde hym to the halle. "I pray you swythe, yf that ye myghte, Of your dowghtyr to have a syghte, Als whyte as bon of whall." Tyll a chambur they have here browght, With mannes hond as sche were wroght Or corven on a tre. Hys sone stode styll and hyre behelde, "Well were hym that the myght welde!" To hymself sayde he. The kyng of Israell asked that lady fre Yyf sche myght passe the Greces see Hys sones wyfe to be. Sche seyde, "Ye, yf that he may Sytte for me a stroke or tway, Thy askyng graunt I the." Grete lordes were at on assent; Waytes blewe; up to mete they went With a full ryall chere. Two kynges the dese bygan, Syr Degrebell and Crystabell than, Yyf they were sybbe full nere. Knyghtes wente to sette, iwys, Ilke a sqwyere in hys offys To serve hys lorde there. Aftyr mete then weschen they; "Deus pacis" clerkes gon sey That all men myght hyt here. On the morn the day sprong, Gentyll to there armour throng, Syr Degrebell was dyght. And trumpes in the feld rose, Ilke a lorde tyll othyr gose - Hyt was a semyly syght. Grete lordes made this cry, "What manere of man, sykurly, That berys a grype full bryghte?" Herodes of armes gon them telle, "That ys the pryns of Israell, Be well ware for he ys wyghte." The kyng of Egypte tase a schafte, That sawe the chylde and anothur rawght, Yyf he were nevere so kene. Agayn the kyng the chylde gon fare, Hors and man adown he bare Strongly on that grene. The kyng seyde, "So God me save, Thow art best worthy here to have!" Thus seyde they all bydene. Lordes then justed they, Sqwyeres on that othure day, Dowghty men and kene. Two kynges that were of myght Toke Crystabell that was so bryght, To the kyrke they here lede. Thus gracyously he hase sped Hys owen modyr hase he wed, As I herde a clerke rede. Hys armes they bare hym beforn - Sche thynkes how hyre chyld away was born, Therfore sorow sche hade. Sche grette therfore and sorow gan make And all was for hyr sones sake; A grett swonyng sche made. "What now," sayde he, "my lady clere, Why makes thou so sympull chere? Me thynkes thou art not glade." "Lorde, in thyn armes a fowle I se That sumtyme raft a chyld fro me A knyght dere hym bowghte." The kyng swere, "Be Crystus myght! In my forest gon he lyght; A grype to londe hym browghte." He commanded a sqwyere that was hende Aftur the cofure for to wende Thereinne hyt was ledde. I wote he toke hem out full rathe And a goldyn gyrdull bathe Full rychely were they redde. The lady seyde, "Full wo ys me! They were fro me rafte in the see." O swonynge down sche brayde. "How longe sythen?" The kyng gon sey. "Fyftene yere," sche sayde, "per ma fay!" They graunted alle to that sche sayde. "Lo, sone, all that we done hade: A sybbe maryage han we made In spryngyng of the mone. I rede we loke, so God me save, The gre in feld ho so may have, And in haste that hyt be done." "Ye, fadur, I holde your counceyll good, So do I my modyr, by the Rode. I wedded hyre byfore the none. Ther schall no man have here, be Seynt Mary, Butt he wynne here als dowghtyly As myself have done!" Grete lordes ylkon tyll othur gon sey, "For hyr love we wyll turnay With swerd scharp on end. He that wynnes this lady clere He schall wedde hyre tyll hys fere, There hym loves best to lende." Herodes of armes forth they went To dyscrye thys turnament In all londys hende. Syr Eglamour was homwarde bowne And herd of that dede of grete renowne, And thythure gan he wende. For Crystabell was don in the see No armes bare he. Lystyn and I wyll you say sykurly. He bare a schyp in armes of gold 4 And a lady drownyng as sche schold, A chyld lyand hyr by. The chyld was butt a nyght old. Hys mast was of sylvyre and gold In every poynte to the ye. Of reed gold was hys fane, Hys sales and hys ropes ylkane Was purtred varely. Gentyllmen that herd that cry Thethur went they ryally, They that dowghty ware. The kyng of Sydon come full sone With many a knyght, full hard bone, That ryche colours bare. Renges they made in the felde That grete lordes myghte them welde: Full faste they turneyd thare. Syr Eglamour, yf he come last, Yyt he was not away to cast - The knyght was cladde in care. Crystabell that lady small, Sche was browght to the wall There the crye was made. The chyld that was of fiftene yere eld, He was aunterus in the feld. In that stowre he rade. When Degrebell began to smyte, From his handis they went ful tyte: Wold non hys dynt abyde. He sees a knyght hovande full stylle, Syr Degrebell rydes hym tylle And sayde, "Wylt thou not ryde?" He seyde, "Hit ys for werynesse, For I am come out of hethennesse - Grete syn it were me to tene." Hys owen sayde, "So mote I the, Then shuld thou not han armed the! More worschyp had hyt bene." The knyght smylyd and on hym lowgh, "Hase thou not turneyd yyt inowgh Butt thou of more me pray?" He sayd, "No, Mari! I am aunterus in stowre5 For a lady, as whyte as flowre, To wynne here yyf I may." "Be Jhesu!" swere the knyght than, "I schall asaye yyf I can Ony thyng turnay. Be God, som tyme have I sene, In all so hard sement have I bene And wan full wele away." Grete lordes with wepens long, Gentyllmen her horses sprong, Dowghty men everylke on. Syr Eglamour has turned the flatt: He gafe his sone syche a patt - To the erthe ys he gon. All they sware, "Upon the molde, He that berys a schyp of golde Has wonne here full gayne." The lady sayde, "Full wo ys me. My sone ys deed, be Cristus pyté! Yondure knyght has hym slayne." Herodes of armes cryed then Yf ther were any gentyllmen To make his body goode. Grete lordes sayd now, "Best wordy art thow To welde yond frely fode." To unarme hym the knyght gose Kyrtels and surcotis and other close That dowghty were in dede. Two kynges the dese began, Syr Eglamour and Crystabell than. Jhesu us all spede! Sche asked be what cheson he bore A schyp of gold, maste and ore Fro the see drowned was done. The knyght sone gon answere, "Thay made the endyng ryght there, My lemman and my yonge sone." The lady letted for no schane, "Gode syr, wat ys your name? Telles me in thys stownde!" "Men called me ther I borne was Syr Eglamour of Artas, Tho of a worme had a wonde." There was mony a robe of palle, Then servyd the chyld in the halle Of the fyrst messe that day. Pryvyly sche to hym spake, "This ys thy fadyr that the gate!" Therewith say I not nay. A grete joye hyt was to se When he kneled on hys knee; There was a hert full sore. Hyt is soth sayd, be God of heven, "Mony meten at unsett steven," And so befell hyt thore. The kyng of Israell gon hym telle How he fond Syr Degrebell; Knytes lystend thanne. Syr Eglamour kneled on hys kne, "And, lord, Gode yelde hyt the; Ye have made hym a manne." The kyng sayde, "I schall hym geve Half my londes whyle I leve, My sone as whyte as swanne." The kyng of Sydon sayd also, "And my dowghtyr Organate to - Me mynnes his fadure hyr wan." Syr Eglamour prayd the lordys all Hom into Artas hym wend withall And at hys bredale to be. They graunted that there were alle, They busked them with ryall Fare and sythen passed the see. Shyppus ley wroken on the sond, Ilkon toke othur be the hond, Knaves there hors gon dryve. This olde erld, Sir Prynsamoure, Fell down bakward of a towre And brake hys nekke belyve. A messengere come before to tell What kyns aunterus the Erle befell. Wyth God may no man stryfe! All nyght there they lay Tyll on the morn that hyt was day To wedde that lady bryght. There was mony a lord of pride, Kyngus led hyre on every side. Hyt was a semmyly syght! Sythen a byschop gan hem wedde; They thanked God they had so spedde, And Mary mykyll of myght. Sythe to wedde gon they go, Syr Degrebell and Organato, He was a full fayr knyght. There was drowen in that stownd The mowntans of a thowzand pownd, Gete hyt wo so myght. Mynstrelles come fro fere lond, Thay hadde ryche gyftes, I unthurstond, In hert they were lyght. Sythen to the castell gon they wende To holde the brydale to the ende, Hyt lasted a fowrtenyght. When the brydale was all don Ilke a lorde toke his lefe full son, Thedur there they schuld lend all nyght. Mynstralles that were ther in that stownd Ther gyftus were worth an hondred pownd, The boldere myght they spende. In Rome this gest cronyclyd ys, Jhesu brynge us to hys blys That nevyr schall have ende! Explicit Eglamour of Artas |
shelter; abode give them; hear predecessors adventure valiant every battle [was]; flower Artois; begotten ancestors Artois does he reside favor was called; (see note) doughty; always protection foam heir fairer; skin bore himself; (see note) more Than; countenance did she [love] it greatly had announced certainly from distant ask for her (hand) fierce; dangerous where Friend, if you could keep a secret tell you You travel widely; (see note) by my faith spread about So may I prosper secret (see note) Don't take it ill much; (see note) Perhaps she would take it scornfully treat me lightly high; (see note) everywhere woos her those virtue held herself life (love); (see note) by Know dearly since attached to battle by the living God Thank you sighed Mourning to; goes prayer redeemed death (see note) afterwards gracefully formed lovely ladies assembled pity expression sick; nearly dead fallen Unless; do poorly mark dinner; courteous go purpose joust falsely fight victory; combat father's To where; did dwell; (see note) driven anguish So may I prosper If If; return; (see note) were prize; battleground Honorably; Cross yet from; know; (see note) graceful fail; advantage; (see note) cares for understood the meaning take lovely (see note) gentle (see note) mate father's recovered from his great woe taken to himself courteous tomorrow; set out each one may I prosper them fly (see note) hastens; ready event quarrel Before the night came nigh then learn to me dear; precious one mate Vouchsafe her to me Possess far Here to the west dwells before Cypress trees; (see note) deer Go thither; fetch If promised leave of undertaken journey Before set out give you; greyhounds; (see note) beasts capture St. Paul edge; no other helmet the [good] fortune pierce (go through) protect taken road; steadfastly he carved time Deer; each hounds where aroused him from his rest; (see note) thief; steal It were better for him to cease them who; begot dearer bought; meat taken thereto When taken; head (see note) where captured slain iron large; rough Two Thief deer drew stroke time Although; knave entirely next; about 6:00 a.m. bides control roar Afterwards; measured sword ever; law country folk; [to] him everyone episode truly; (see note) undertaken task Prepare yourself quickly (see note) boar Beast; slays eye see wounds tusks recovers leave journey by sea at evening time Where; boar Signs on all sides oak drew sea; rushing sound abandoned To sees; sea taken crazed side thinks burst penetrate its hide shove slew bank immediately noon nearly finished knew; council there very moment deadly (see note) (see note) sees dangerous; (see note) halts By; conqueror bears (a shield) of gold a very fair sight steed; azure; (see note) spears; sable (black) may I prosper Those fierce struggle across fight with you to anger you man's bane since I was a man of knightly arms upright food Rhenish beset (see note) did; ask Adventurous; (see note) The brother of the giant Marras further slain enough brake (cut up); quickly neck made all the rest know For carts; (see note) At noon populace; glad tidings steadfastly; time kill listen kill had made ready herbs went By [the time] foul crazy By; law (religion); believe in piglet Dearly struck each atone batter hang Before somewhat more advise fiercely Then; Cross attack abashed trust assay (test) went taken sees companion believe; to slay atone before; hence that one shining prepared himself course of action dead him Although roar (see note) linger roan death blow; (see note) while deed; slay protect wait for (see note) By my faith In fared go giant's part (see note) populace; (see note) court Towards; (see note) travailed sore eagerly (see note) high dais all together devil slay you suppose lovely Not unless I am worthy (see note) smart delay their; (see note) graciously he began to tell her by [the time that]; (see note) (see note) keep her secrets her burns like a fire with anxiety ready talk thereof people approach go tell me no feats; (see note) (once) for all leave from one task (see note) (see note) dragon Signs By hundreds; counted grow cold He (the dragon); his (Eglamour's) beat Bitter blows; fierce brands there Always more as night neared welled its tongue; (see note) wicked lost back bone saw Have pronounced There; strength bailiwick walk hastened; then glad towards Quickly (see note) undertaken (the care of) death head chamber (see note) dead whalebone red hideous beast fast measured church; (see note) judgment they removed swooning slain He stayed so long being healed male (see note) Baptism; (see note) (see note) quickly eye (see note) led noble son did her friends Who wished her Against fiends; sea Greet sighed; (see note) rock thought; inhabited saw; there sea birds fast flew [from] her quickly griffin foreign taken alight lady saw; griffin landed more (see note) shrieked squire wound lining eyes; (see note) Cross taken [from] griffin (see note) homeless; dwelling taken quickly sides; (see note) (see note) rock rudder the other (i.e., the previous one) without food breaks sixth; before noon succor arrives wrecked; sand (see note) quickly (see note) last [part of the] poem likeness neither signs name Before grieved hoarse They invited her to a good dinner asks Whence gentle went; (see note) Unchristian (Unchristened) brother's laughed recovered prepares; ready people coming male; carried lost sea; put left place sorrow mate afraid went to (see note) order take (it) from then; (see note) Where; put heathen lived griffin; taken (see note) valiant hear on his coat of arms; griffin engraved; background banners (see note) well endowed dwells had combat; (see note) If she be stay; Cross make yourself ready quickly at once embraced By [the time that] they landed Their expedition to make known (see note) assembly By (see note) trumpets; (see note) takes As if she were wrought by man's hand carved from a tree (see note) control (see note) cross two Watchmen; (see note) sat at the head of the table kin indeed place washed God's peace; (see note) Nobles; thronged dressed (see note) griffin Heralds aware takes a lance took As he was ever so bold field her together jousted wept winged creature That once took from me a child That a knight had dearly paid for; (see note) he alighted coffer laid quickly both decorated reft In; sank agreed Look, son, at all that we have done incestuous advise; look (find) victory in tournament who; (see note) (i.e., not blunted) as his mate Where he likes best to live Heralds recount; (see note) bound since New; (see note) (see note) Its Wherever the eye might see; (see note) ship's pennant sails; (see note) portrayed accurately of very hard bones Rings use Yet he was not turned away (see note) proclamation daring combat; rode quickly blow standing; (see note) disturb own (son); (see note) laughed see tourney at all (ironic understatement) contest; (see note) And escaped harm completely flat edge of his sword ground; (see note) Heralds To take up the challenge (see note) worthy govern; young man (see note) kirtles; surcoats; clothes chance Was drowned in the sea lover stopped; shame; (see note) instant begot Many meet through unexpected events there grant I remember (see note) wedding readied themselves; royal Each one (lord) took the other by the hand Men earl instantly kinds of adventures strive (see note) Then drawn; time sum minstrels; (see note) wedding festivities fortnight spend story chronicled (see note) |