5 10 15 20 25 30 fol. 39r    35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 80 fol. 39v 85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 130 fol. 40r 135 140 145 150 155 160 165 170 175 180 fol. 40v 185 190 195 200 205 210 215 220 225 230 fol. 41r 236 240 245 250 255 260 265 270 275 280 285 fol. 41v 290 295 300 305 310 315 320 325 330 335 340 fol. 42r 345 350 355 360 365 370 375 380 385 390 395 fol. 42v 401 405 410 415 420 425 430 435 440 445 450 fol. 43r 455 460 465 470 475 480 485 490 495 500 fol. 43v 506 510 515 520 525 530 535 540 545 550 fol. 44r 556 560 565 570 575 580 585 590 595 600 605 fol. 44v 610 615 620 625 630 635 640 645 650 655 fol. 45r 661 665 670 675 680 685 690 695 700 705 710 fol. 45v 715 720 725 730 735 740 745 750 755 760 765 fol. 46r 770 775 780 785 790 795 800 805 810 815 820 fol. 46v 825 830 835 840 845 850 855 860 865 870 875 fol. 47r 880 885 890 895 900 905 910 915 920 925 fol. 47v 930 935 940 945 950 955 960 965 970 975 980 fol. 48v 985 990 995 1000 1005 1010 1015 1020 1025 1030 fol. 48v 1036 1040 1045 1050 1055 1060 1065 1070 1075 1080 1085 fol. 49r 1090 1095 1100 1105 1110 1115 1120 1125 1130 1135 1140 fol. 49v 1145 1150 1155 1160 1165 1170 1175 1180 1185 1190 1195 fol. 50r 1201 1205 1210 1215 1220 1225 1230 1235 1240 1245 1250 fol. 50v 1255 1260 1265 1270 1275 1280 1285 1290 1295 1300 1305 1310 fol. 51r 1315 1320 1325 1330 1335 1340 1345 1350 1355 1360 fol. 51v 1365 1370 1375 1380 1385 1390 1395 1400 1405 1410 1415 fol. 52r 1421 1425 1430 1435 1440 1445 1450 1455 1460 1465 1470 fol. 52v 1475 1480 1485 1490 1495 1500 1505 1510 1515 1520 1525 fol. 53r 1530 1535 1540 1545 1550 1555 1560 1565 1570 1575 1580 1585 fol. 53v 1590 1595 1600 1605 1610 1615 1620 1625 1630 1635 1640 fol. 54r 1645 1650 1655 1660 1665 1670 1675 1680 1685 1690 1695 fol. 54v 1701 1705 1710 1715 1720 1725 1730 1735 1740 1745 1750 fol. 55r 1756 1760 1765 1775 1780 1785 1790 1795 1800 1805 fol. 55v 1810 1815 1820 1825 1830 1835 1840 1845 1850 1855 fol. 56r 1861 1865 1870 1875 1880 1885 1890 1895 1900 1905 1910 1915 fol. 56v 1920 1925 1930 1935 1940 1945 1950 1955 1960 1965 fol. 57r 1971 1975 1980 1985 1990 1995 2000 2005 2010 2015 2020 fol. 57v 2025 2030 2035 2040 2045 2050 2055 2060 2065 2070 2075 fol. 58r 2080 2085 2090 2095 2100 2105 2110 2115 2120 fol. 58v 2125 2130 2135 2140 2145 2150 2155 2160 2165 2170 2175 fol. 59r 2180 2185 2190 2195 2200 2205 2210 2215 2220 2225 fol. 59v 2230 2235 2240 2245 2250

Lybeus Dysconius Jhesu Cryst owre savyowre And his moder, that swete flowre,     They sped them in ther nede That lystyns of a conquerour, Wytty knyght and gode weryour,     And doughty mane of dede. Hys name was callyd Gyngeleyn; Getyn he was of Sir Gawyne     By a forest syde. A beter knyght, ne more profetabull, With Arthor at the Rownd Tabull,     Herd I never of rede. Gyngeleyn was feyr and bryght, Gentyll of face and body ryght,     Basterd thoff he were. His moder hym kepte with alle hyr myght That he schuld se no knyght     Armyd on no maner, For he was so savage And lyghtly wold outrage     To his felows in fere. For doute of wyked lose His moder kepyd hym close,     As worthy chyld and dere. For he was so feyr and wyse, His moder named hym Beuys,     And non other name. And hymselve was so nyse That askyd never, iwys,     What he hyght of his dame. Tyll it befell upon a dey, Gyngeleyn wolde hym to pley,     To se wyld dere bename. He fond a knyght wher he ley In armour that was stoute and gey     Sleyn and made full tame. He dyd of that knyghtys wede And therin he gane hym schred     In that rych armour. And when he hade done that dede, Than to Glastunbery he yede,     And ther ley Kynge Arthore. When he was within the halle, Ymonge lordys and ladys alle,     He grete them with honour, And seyd, “Arthor, my lord, Sofer me to speke a word,     I pray yow, par amour. “I ame a chyld uncouthe, And com nowte of thee soughte;     I wold be made a knyght. Ten yere olde I ame, Of werres wele I cane;     Grawnte me aryght.” Then seyd Arthor the kynge, “Tell me, chyld, withoute lesynge,     What is thi name iplyght? For sene that I was borne, Saw I never here beforne     No chyld so feyre of syght.” The chyld seyd, “Be Seynte Jame, I ne wote what is my name;     I ame the more nyse. Bot whyle I was at home, My moder onne hyr game     Callyd me Beuys.” Than seyd Arthour the kyng, “That is a wonder thing,     Be God and Seynt Denys, That thou woldyst be made a knyght And wotyst not what thou hyght,     And so feyre and wyse! “I schall hym gyffe a name Amonge you all in same,     For he is so feyr and fre. Be God and by Seynt Jame, So callyd never his dame,     What woman so ever sche be. Calle hym in your use ‘Lybeus Disconyus’     For the love of me. Loke ye calle hym in same, In ernys and in game,     For sertys, so hyght schall he.” Kyng Arthour anon ryght Lete make the chyld a knyght     On that ilke dey. He gafe hym armour bryght; With a suerd of myght     He gyrd hym, soth to sey. He caste on hym in a pylte A ryche scheld overgylte     With a gryffyn gay. He toke hym to Ser Gawyn To teche hym upon the pleyn     Of every prinsys pley. When he was knyght made, Full sone the kyng a boune he bade,     And seyd, “My lord so fre, In herte I were full glad The fyrst fyght that I had,     That men do aske thee.” Then seyd Arthour the kynge, “I grante thee thine askynge,     What batell so ever it be. Bot ever me thinke thee to yyng To do a gode feyghtyng     Be ought that I can se.” Ryght withouten reson, Doke, erle and baron     Wesche and went to mete. Of wyld dere and venyson, As lordys of grete renowne,     Ynoughe thei hade to ete. They hade setyn bot a while, Bot the space of a myle;     At the tabull as thei sytte, Ther came a dwerffe in ryde, And a damsell by his syde,     All be-swete for hete. That meyd hyght Hendy Elyn; Bryght sche was and schene,     A lady as messyngere. Ther was never cowntas ne qwene That was so sembly on to sene     Bot sche myght ben hyr pere. The may that was so schen, Sche was clothyd in gren     And furred with blaundyner. Hyr sadell was overgylte And wele hernest with sylke;     Whyte was hyr deyster. The dwerfe was clothyd in ynde Befor and all behynde;     Stowte he was and perte. Amonge a Crystyne kynd, Syche one schuld no man fynd,     He was so stoute in herte. His sercote was yalow as floure, And within of an other colour     Wele furryd aboute with merte. With gold his schone was dyght, And cowpyd were as a knyght;     Ther semyd no poverté. Wyndeleyn was his name; Wyde sprong his fame     Est, west, northe and southe. Myche he couthe of game, Sotell, sawtre in same,     Herpe, fidyll than wele he couthe. He was a gode gestoure With ladys in ther bowre,     A mery man of mouthe. He seyd to the meyd, “I wene, To tell the tale bedene     Tyme it is, for sothe.” The meyd knelyd in halle Amonge the lordys alle     And seyd, “My lord Arthor, A case ther is now to werd: Was ther never non so herd,     Nor of so grete dolour. My Lady of Synadon Is brought in gret prison,     That was of grete valour, And prays yow of a knyght That in werre ware wyght     To wyne hyr with honour.” Up sterte the yong knyght — In herte he was full lyght —     And seyd, “Arthour, my lord, I schall do that fyght And wynne that lady bryght,     Yyff thou be trew of word.” Quod Arthour, “That is sothe; Sertys, withouten othe,     Therto I bere record. God gyf thee strenth and myght To wyn that lady bryght     Thorow dynte of spere and swerd.” The may began to chyd, And seyd, “Alas that tyde     That I was hether sende! This wyll spryng wyde And lorne is, kyng, thi pride,     And all thy lordys is schent That thou wold send a chyld That is wytteles and wyld     To dele mannes dynte, And hast knyghtys of mayn, Persyvall and Ser Gawayn,     Full wyse in tournament.” The duerfe with grete errour Sterte to King Arthour     And seyd, “Thou konyng kyng! This chyld to be a waryowre And to do sych a labour     Is not worth a ferthing. Or he that lady se, Batelys two or thre     He must do, without lesyng. At the Poynte Perelus Besyde the Chapell of Antrus,     Ther schall be his begynyng.” Syr Lybeus than answerd, “Yit never was I aferd     For dred of mannys saw. Somwhat have I lernyd To pley with a swerd     And hath had many a blaw. A man that fleye for a threte, Other be wey or be strete,     I wold he were to-draw. The batell I undertake, And never non of them forsake,     For sych is Arthor law.” The meyd ansuerd full snelle, “That besemyth thee ryght wele,     Who so lokyght on thee. Thou ne durste, for all the werld, Abyd the wynd of a suerd,     Be ought that I cane se.” Than seyd the duerfe in that stownd, “The ded men in the grownd     Of thee aferd may be. Now I rede thee in game, Go home and sowke thi dame,     And ther thou wyne the gré.” The Kyng seyd anon ryght, “Here getys thou non other knyght.     By hym that bought me dere, If thou thinke not hym wyght, Get thee another were thou myght     That is of more power.” The mey for ire styll sate. Sche wold nether drinke ne ete,     For all that ther were. Sche sate doune, evyll payd, Tyll the bord was up-brayd,     Sche and the duerfe in fere. King Arthour in that stound Comandyd of the Tabull Round     Fowre of the best knyghtys, In armour hole and sound, The best that may be found,     To arme the child at ryghtys. He seyd with the grace of Crist That in flome was baptyst,     That he schuld hold his ryghtys And become a gode champyon To the Lady of Synadon,     And sle his foys in fyghtys. Syr Persyvall and Ser Gaweyn, To arme hym thei were full feyn,     In that semly sale. The thyrd was Syr Eweyn, The fourth was Syr Geffreyn —     So telys the French in tale. They cast onne of sylke A ryppon whyte as mylke,     Emong them chosyn saun fayle, And an hambreke bryght That full rychely was dyght     With nayles gret and smale. Gaweyn, his awne fere, Honge aboute his swer     A scheld with a gryffyn. A helme of rych enter That was stele and no ire.     Persyvale sett on crowne. Gefferen brought with hym a sper That was gode in every were,     And a fell fanchon. Eweyn brought with hym a sted That was gode at every nede     And eger as any lyon. The knyght to hors gan sprynge, And rode to Arthour the kyng,     And seyd, “My lord with crowne, Gyff me thi blyssing; Withouten any lesing     My wyll is gode to gone.” Arthour his hand up-haffe And his blyssing he hym gafe     As a king full kynd, And seyd, “God gyffe thee grace To hafe spede and spas     To borow that lady hend.” The meyd that was so gay Lepe on hyr palfray;     The duerfe rode hir besyd. Tyll upon the third dey, Sone upon the knyght     Fast than gan thei chyd, And seyd, “Loryll, katyff, If thou were worthy sych fyve,     Lorn than is thy pride: This wey kepys a knyght That with every man wyll fyght;     Hys name is sprongen wyde. “He hyght Wylliam Dolebraunche. His warre may no man staunche;     He is werryour out of wytte. Both thorow hert and hanche Full sone he wyll thee lance,     All that he may hytte.” Quod Libeus Disconeus, “That wey wyll we aventour us.     If we may hym mete, For ought that may betyde, Agens hym wyll I ryde     To loke if he wyll sytte.” Thei ryden forthe all thre On a feyr cause     Besyde the Chapell of Antrous. A knyght gan thei se In armour bryght of ble     Upon the Poynt Perelus. He bare a scheld of gren With thre lyons of gold, I wene,     Prowde and precyous. Wele was armyd that knyght, For soth at all ryght,     As it was his use. When he saw Syr Libeus in syght, He rode to hym full ryght     And seyd, “Ho, my bew pere! Whoso ryde here dey or nyght, With me he must fyght     Or leve his armour here.” Quod Libeus Disconeus, “For the love of Jhesus,     Late us pas here. We be fer fro frend And hath ferre to wend,     I and this mey in fere.” Syr Wylliam ansuerd tho, “Thow schall not scape me so,     So God gyff me gode reste. We schall or we go Feyght betwyx us two     A forlong here be weste.” Quod Libeus, “Now I se It wyll non other be;     Go forth and do thi beste. And take thi course with thy schafte, Yiff thou be man of crafte,     For myn is here all preste.” They wold no lenger byde: Together gan thei ryde     With full grete rawndon. And Lybeus in that tyde Smote Wylliam in the syde     With a spere so longe. Bot Willam sate so faste That his sper all to braste,     Be God and be Seynt Jhon. Than he began to stoupe, And felle over his hors crowpe     Into the feld adoune. His stede rane away. William not long lay,     Bot stert up anon ryght, And seyd, “Be my fay, Never or this dey     Fonde I non so wyght. Now my stede is away; Fyght on fote, I thee pray,     As thou arte jentyll knyght.” Quod Libeus Disconeus, “For the love of suet Jhesus,     Therto than wyll I lyght.” Together gan thei spryng; With suerdys on to dynge     Thei faught ferly faste. Dyntis gan thei dynge; The fyre, without lesyng,     Oute of ther helmys braste. Bot William Dolebraunce To Lybeus gan lance     Thrught his scheld in haste, That one cantell fell to ground And Libeus in that stound     In herte was agaste. Syr Libeus all with myght Defendyd hym anon ryght,     As waryour wyght and sle. Barbe and crest doun ryght He made fle with myght     On Williamys helme on hyghe. The poynt than of his suerd Schefe Williamys berd     And com the flesch not nyghe. William smote Libeus so That his swerd brast in two,     That many a man it syghe. Thus William gan cry, “For the love of Mary,     On lyve late me pas. It were gret vylonye To make knyght for to dyghe     Wepynles in the place.” Quod Libeus Disconeus, “For the love of Jhesus,     Of lyfe getyst thou no space, Bot if thou suere to me anone, Or that thou hens gon,     Here befor my face. “Fast thou knele adoune, And suere on my suerd broun.     Thow schall to Arthor wend And sey, ‘Lord of renowne, As overcomyn person     A knyght me hether send That men calys thus: Syr Libeus Disconeus,     Unknawyn knyght and hend.’” William on kne hym sette, And swore as he hym bede,     And forth he gan wende. Thus partyd thei alle; Home to Arthours halle,     He toke the ryght wey. A case ther began to falle: Thre knyghtys prowd in paule     He mette that ilke dey. The thre knyghtys in fere Were his emys sones dere     That were stoute and gay. When thei se Willyam bled, Thei come to hym with dred     And made full grete deray. They seyd, “Eme William, Who hath do thee thys grame?     Why bledyst thou so yern?” He seyd, “Be Seynt Jame, One that is not to blame,     A strong knyght and sterne. Libeus Dysconeus he hyght; To felle his foys in fyght     He is not to lerne. A dwerfe hym rode befor, His squyer as he were;     Thei rydyn forth full yerne. “Bot one thing grevyd me sore: He made me to suere     On his suerd bryght That I schall never more, Tyll I com to Arthour,     Stynte dey ne nyght. To hym I muste me yeld As overcom in the feld     Be power of his knyght, Never agen hym to bere Nether scheld ne spere.     Thus I have hym hyght.” Than seyd the knyghtys thre, “Thou schall wele avengyd be,     Serteyn, withouten feyle, He one agens us thre Is not worth a fle     For to hold bateyle. Go and do thy othe, And thof the thefe be wrothe,     We schall hym asayle. Or he this forest passe, We schall his hamberke unlace,     Thof it be doubull nayle.” Hereof wyst not that wyght, Libeus, that jentyll knyght;     He rod forth pace by pace. He and meyden bryght Made together that nyght     Game and grete solace. And mercy sche gan hym crye, For sche had spoke hym vylanye,     And he forgafe her trespas. The dwerffe was hys squyre, And servyd fere and nere     Of all that myster was. On the morne, when it was dey, They rode furth on ther wey     Toward Synadon. Than thei se in ther wey Thre knyghtys stowte and gey     Com ryding fro Skarlyon. To hym thei cryed anon ryght, “Turne agene, tratoure, and fyght!     For thou schall leve thy renowne, And that meyd bryght That is so feyre in syght     We schall lede to the towne.” Syr Libeus than he cryde, “I ame redy to ryde     Agene yow all in same!” As prince prowd in pride He prikyd his sted that tyde     In ernyst and not in game. The eldyst brother gan bere To Sir Libeus a spere;     Syr Banerer was his name. Syr Libeus rode to hym anone     And lefte hym ther as lame. The knyght hym mercy gan crye; Syr Libeus sykerly     Held hym fast adone. The duerfe, mayster Wyndeleyn, Toke the stede by the reyn     And lepte in the sadyll aboven. He rode than with that To the mey ther sche sate,     So feyre of facyon. Than loughe the mey bryght, And seyd, “This yong knyght     Is a gode champyon!” The mydlest brother beheld His brother in the feld     And lorn meyn and myght. He smote, so it is telled, Syr Lybeus in the scheld     With a spere anon ryght. Lybeus awey gan bere With the poynt of his spere     The helme of that knyght. The yong brother gan forth ryde, And prikyd his stede that tyde     Egyr as lyon wyght. He seyd to Syr Libeus anon, “Syr knyght, be Seynt John,     Thou arte a fell champyon. Be God that dyghed on tre, Just I wyll with thee;     I trow to bere thee doune.” As warryour out of wytte On Libeus gan he hytte     With a fell fauchon. So styff his strokys he sette Throught helme and basnete     He kerfe Syr Lybeus crone. Than was Syr Libeus agrevyd When he felyd on his hede     The suerd of egyr mode. His suerd abowte hym he hevyd; All that he hytte he clevyd     As werryour unwyse and wode. Than he seyd so: “One agayn two     To fyght it is not gode.” Fast thei hewyd on hym, And with strokys grym     Styfly agens them stode. Bot through Godys grace He smote the mydlyst in that place     Under the ryght arme so He feld hym in that place. In that ilke space,     His ryght arme fell hym fro. The yongyst saw in syght That he had nother mayn ne myght     To fyght agens his fo. To Lybeus he gan upyeld His spere and his scheld;     Mersy he cryed tho. Lybeus seyd, “Nay, Thow schall not go so awey,     Be hym that bought mankynd. Thou and thi brether twey, Ye schall plyght me your fey;     Ye schall to Arthour wend. So ye schall sey, ‘Lord of renoun, As overcomen person     A knyght us hether send To yeld yow towre and towne, And be at your renoun     Ever withouten ende.’ “Bot if ye wyll do so, Certys I schall you slo     Long or it be nyght.” The knyght swore it schuld be so: They schuld to Arthour go     Ther trowth to hym thi plyght. Libeus and that mey Went on ther jorney     Thyder as thi were tyght Tyll on the thyrd dey They ryden in game and pley,     He and that byrd bryght. They ryden ay west Into a wyld forest     And myght not com to towne. They wyst not what was best; For nede thei must rest,     And ther he lyght adoune. In the gren grevys They byged them with levys,     With suerd bryght and brown. Therin thei duellyd all nyght, He and that byrd bryght     So fayre of facyon. And ever the duerfe gan wake That no thefe schuld take     Awey ther hors with gyle. For dred he gan quake: A grete fyre he saw make     Fro hym not a myle. “Rise,” he seyd, “syr knyght, To hors that we were dyght     For doute of peryll. Syrtys I here grete boste, And I have saver of roste,     Be God and be Seynt Gyle.” Syr Lybeus was stowt and gay, And lepe on his palfrey     And hent scheld and spere. As he went forth fast, Two gyantys he fond at the last     When he com to the fyre. The one was blake as pyche, The other was red and lothlyche;     Full fowle thei were of chere. The blake gyant held in his arme A feyre meyden by the arme     Bryght as ros onne brere. The red gyant full yerne Aboute he gan turne     A wyld bore on a spyte. The fyre fast gan bryn; The meyden cryed full yern     For som man schuld it wytte. Sche seyd, “Welywey, That ever I bode this dey     With two devyles to sytte! Helpe now, Mary myld, For love of thi chyld,     That I be not foryeytt!” Quod Libeus, “Be Seynt Jame, To bryng this mey fro scham     It were grete prise.” He toke hys course with his schaft As man that couth his craft,     And rode both ryght and wyse. To fyght with them in same It was no chyldys game,     They be so grym and gryse. The blake gyant he smot smert Thrught lyver and herte     That never myght he ryse. Than flew that meyden schen, And thankyd Heven Quen     Sych grace sche had hir sent. Than cam that meydyn Elyn, Sche and the duerfe bedene,     And by the hand hyr hente. They went than to the grevys And leyd them in the levys     With full gode intente. They than besought Jhesus To helpe Lybeus Dysconeus     That he schuld not be schent. The rede gyant smote ther To Syr Libeus with a bore,     As wolfe that were full wode. His dyntys he sett so sore That Syr Libeus stede therfore     Dounne to the ground he yode. Syr Lybeus than full smerte Oute of his sadyll sterte     As sperkyls doth on gled. Eger as any lyon, He smote with his suerd broune     To quite the gyant his mede. The gyant spyte, sykerlye, Was more than a coltré,     That he had on the bore. He leyd on Libeus faste While the sper wold last,     Ever more and more. The bore was full hote than; The grece on Lybeus ran,     And that grevyd hym sore. The gyant was styff and strong And fiftene fote he was long;     He smote fast with the bore. And ever the gyant smote To Libeus, wele I wote,     Tyll hys spyte brake in two. As man that was unsaught, A tronchon he up kaught     To fyght agens his fo. With the ende of the tre He smote Libeus scheld in thre;     Than was Libeus full wo. Or he his schaft up caught, Libeus a stroke hym raught     That his ryght arme fell hym fro. The gyant fell to grownd, And Libeus in that stownd     Smote of his hed full ryght. In Frenche boke as it is in found, To that other he went that stound     And servyd hym so, aplyght. Than he toke the hedys twey And bore them to the feyr mey     That he wan in the fyght. The mey was glad and blythe, And thankyd God fele sythe     That ever he was made knyght. Quod Libeus, “Jentyll dame, Tell me what is your name     And wher that ye wer borne.” She seyd, “Be Seynt Jame, My fader is of ryche fame     And wounes her beforne. An erle and wyde knaw knyght That is a man of myght,     Hys name is Anter. And my name is Vyolete, That the gyant hath besette     That was of so grete power. “Yesterdey in the evyning, As I went on my pleyng,     No evyll than I thought. The gyant than, without lesyng, Owte of a buske gane spryng     And to the fyre me browght. Of hym I had be schent, Had not God me socoure sent,     That all the werld wrought. He yeld thee thy mede That on the rode gan blede     And with hys blode us bought.” Withouten more talkyng, To hors gan thei spryng     And rode forth all in same, And told the erle tyding, How he savyd with fyghtyng     Hys doughter fro wo and schame. Than were the hedys sente To Kyng Arthour in presente     With myche gle and game. Than in Arthours courte dyd rys How Syr Libeus was of price     And of worthy fame. The erle for hys gode dede Gafe Lybeus to mede     Scheld and armour bryght, And also a nobull stede That was gode at nede     In travyll and in fyght. Syr Libeus and that mey Rode forthe on ther wey     Thyder as thei had tyght. Than thei saw in a perke A castell styff and sterke     That grysly was dyght. Wallyd it was with ston — Syche saw I never none —     With tourys styff and stoute. Quod Libeus “Be Seynt John, This is a worthi wone     To hym that hath grete doute.” Than lewgh that mey bryght And seyd, “This awys a knyght,     The best here aboute. Who so wyll with hym fyght, Be he baron or knyght,     He doth hym low to lowte, “For the love of hys leman That is so feyr a woman     And worthely in wede. Who so bryngys a feyrer one, A joly faucon whyte as fome     He schall have to mede. And sche be not so feyre of syght, With Gefferon he must fyght.     Yyff he may not spede, Hys hede hym schall be rafte And sette hye on a schafte,     To se in lenth and in brede. “The soth thou mayst se wele, That on ilke a cornelle     One hede or two aryght.” Quod Libeus al so snelle, “Be God and be Seynt Myghell,     With Gefferon wyll I fyght, And chalenge that joly faucon, And sey I have in towne     A leman twys so bryght. And yff he wyll hyr se, For sothe, I wyll bryng thee,     Be it dey or nyght.” The dwerfe seyd, “By Jhesus, Gentyll Libeus Disconeus,     Thow putys thee in grete perelle. Gefferon LeFroudeus In fyghting hath an use     Knyghtys to begyle.” Syr Libeus ansuerd ther, “Therof have I no kare,     Be God and be Seynt Gyle. I shal se his face Or that I passe thys place,     Fro this cyté a myle.” Withouten more reson They bode styll in the towne     All that nyght in pesse. On the morne Lybeus was bowne For to wyn his renowne,     Sertys, withouten les. He armyd hym full sure In that ylke armour     That Kyng Arthours was. A sted he began to stryd; The dwerfe rode hym besyde     Unto that prowd palace. Gefferon LeFreudeus Arose, as it was hys use,     In the morow tyde To honoure suet Jhesus. And Libeus Disconeus     Com prikyng as prince in pride. Wythowten more abode Agens Libeus he rode,     And loude to hym he cryd With voys scherpe and skryll: “Comyst thou for gode or yll?     Tell me and nought thou hyde.” Quod Libeus all tytte, “I have grete delyte     With thee for to fyght. Thou seyst a foule dyspite: No woman is so whyte     As thyn be dey or nyght. I have one in the towne That is ryght feyr of facyon,     In clotys and sche were dyght. Therfor the joly faukon To Arthour kyng with crown     I schall bryng with ryght.” Quod Gefferon, that gentyll knyght, “Were schall we preve aplyght     Whether feyrer be?” Quod Libeus, “With all my myght, In Cardull cyté with ryght,     That all men may se, In myddys of the merkete, Ther thei schall be sette     To loke on them so fre. And yiff my leman be brown, To wyn thi joly faukon     Just I wyll with thee.” Quod Jefferon al so snell, “Hold thi grant I wyll.     Todey at under-tyde, Be God and by Seynt Myghell, Out of this castell     To Kardell wyll I ryde.” Ther glovys up thei held That forwerd to be fullfyllyd,     As princys prowd in pride. Syr Lybeus, or he wold lyne, He rode into his inne     And wold no lenger byde. He seyd to meyd Elyn That bryght was and schen,     “Loke thou make thee bowne.” He seyd, “Be Heven Quene, Gefferonus leman, as I wene,     Todey schall come to towne In the mydys of the syté, That men may yow se     Both togeder in fassyon. And yiff thou be not so bryght, With Gefferon I wyll fyght     To wynne the joly faucon.” The dwerfe ansuerd and seyd, “Thow doyst than a herdy dede.     For every man that ever was born, Thow doyst be no mans redde, Bot thou feyrest in thi chyldhede     As man that wold be lorn. Therfor I thee praye Wend we forth owre wey,     That we com not hym beforn.” Libeus seyd, “That were grete schame. I had lever,” he seyd, “Be Seynt Jame,     With wyld hors to be torne.” The meyd feyr and fre Hyghed hyr sykerly,     That sche were atyred For to do his profyte In kercheffys feyr and whyte     Areyd with gold wyre. A vyolet mantyll full gey Furred with grys, soth to sey,     Sche cast aboute hyr swyre. The stonys aboute hyr mowld Were presyows endentyd with gold,     The best of all that schyre. Syr Lybeus sett that mey Upon a god palfrey;     They ryden forth all thre. Every man to other gan sey, “Here comys a full feyr mey,     A sembly one to se.” Into the merketplace he rode And ther boldly he abode     In myddys of that syté. Than thei se Gefferon com ryde With two squyres be his syde     And with no mo meyné. He bore a scheld of grene That wele was dyght, I wene;     Of gold was the border, And of the same colorus Dyght with other floures     Was geyer than any trumpour. Two squyres with hym gan ryde: The ton bare be hys syde     Thre schaftys gode and suer. The other bare, redy bone, The gentyll joly faucon,     The two ladys waygewr. Therafter com ryde A lady full of pride     Clothyd in purpull paule. The pepull was gederyd full wyde To se bothe bake and syde,     So gentyll was and smalle. Hyre mantyll was of reyfyen, Furred wele with armen     Riche and ryall, The bond aboute hyr mold     Of perles and of gold With many a rych jewell. As rose hyr rud was rede; The here schon on hyr hede     As gold that were full bryght, Hyr browys as sylkyn thred Bent in lenth and brede.     Sche was full feyre in syght: Hyr eyn ware gray as glas, Whyte was hyr face,     Hyr nose it was ryght, Hyr swyre was long and small. Hyr beuty to tell all,     For soth, no man myght. Than sche mayde to bryng Two cheyres into the chepyng,     Ther beutys to discry. Than seyd bothe old and yenge, “For soth, withouten lesynge,     Betwyx them is partye. Jefferonus leman is clere, As bryght as rose on brere,     For soth, and not to lye. Elyn the messynger Were worthy to be a lawnder     Of hyr noryssery.” Quod Gefferon LeFreudeus, “Be the love of Jhesus,     The faukon hast thou lorn.” Quod Lybeus Disconeus, “That was never myn use;     Juste we wyll therforne. And thou fell me doune, Take my hed and thy fawcon     As covant was beforn. And yff I bere doune thee, The fawcon schall go with me,     Thoff thou be wroth therforn.” No more tale thei tellyd, Bot went into the felyd     With full grete partye. With strokys styff on scheld, Ather to other held     With full grete invye. Ther sperys broke in sonder, The strokys faryd as thunder     That com out of the eyre. Mynstrellus and trumperus, Herperus and gesterus,     Ther strokys gan dyscry. Than gan Gefferon speke: “Gyff me one that wyll not breke,     A god schaft therwithall. Se this yonge freke Syttys in hys sadull steke     As ston in castell walle! I schall make hym stoupe Over hys hors croupe     And gyffe hym an evyll falle, Thoffe he were wyghter Than Alysander or Arthour,     Lanslate or Persyvale.” The knyghtys both two Ryden togeder tho     With full grete rawundon. Lybeus smote Gefferon so That hys scheld fell hym fro     Into the feld anone. They laught all that ther was And seyd, withouten les,     Duke, erle and baron, That never are thei se That man that myght dre     A stroke of Syr Gefferon. Gefferon rode to hym swythe, For soth, full felle sythe,     For he myght not spede. He rode agens hym as gode; He leyd at hym as he were wode,     As man that had grete nede. Bot Lybeus sate so faste That Gefferon ther he caste,     Both hym and hys stede, So that hys bake he brake That men myght here the crake     Both in lenth and brede. All seyd that ther weren That Gefferron had lorn     The gentyll joly faucon; With Lybeus he was bore. They wente bothe les and more     With hym into the towne. Gefferon and hys scheld Were bore oute of the feld     With many a bold baron. The jentyll faucon sent was Be a knyght that hyght Lucas     To Arthour, kyng with croune. The knyght forth he yede. With hym than he gan lede     The faukon that Libeus wan; To Arthour he hym bare. Than the kyng he swere,     “Syr Libeus of wer wele can! He hath me sent with honour Of dyverse batels fowre     Sen that he fyrst begane. I wylle send tresoure For to spend with honour,     As fallys to sych a mane.” An hundred pownd honeste Of florens of the beste     He sente to Cardull toune. Syr Libeus made a feste That fourty deys leste     With lordys of grete renown. And at the six wekys ende They toke ther lefe to wende,     Duke, erle, and barone. Syr Libeus and that mey Rode on ther jorney     Towerd Synadone. As thei ryden onne the row, Hornes they herd blaw     And hundys on grete gale. The duerfe seyd in a thraw, “The horne wele I knaw.     To sey withouten feyle, Syr Otys it blew so wele, That servyd my lady some while     Sembly in hyr sale. When sche was take with wyle, He fled for dowte of perylle     West into the vayle.” As thei stode talkyng, Ther com a rache rynning     Ryght into the wey. They seyd, withoute lesyng, Seth thei were fyrst begynyng,     Saw thei non so gay. For he was of all colours That men se on the flowrys     Betwyx Mydsomour and May. The meyd seyd full sone, “I saw never none     So mekyll to my pay. “Wold God,” sche seyd, “that he my were.” Syr Libeus toke the hunde ther     And gafe hym to meyd Elyn. Thei ryden forth all sawght And told how kempys faught     For byrdys bryght and schene. They ryden bot a while, The space of a myle,     In that forest grene, They saw a hynd come stryke And two grewhundys evyn lyke     The rache that I of mene. They hovyd under a lynde To se the course of the hynde,     Syr Libeus and hys fere. Than come after the hynde A knyght clothyd in inde     Upon a bay deyster. Hys bugyll gan he blaw For that his men schuld knaw     In what sted that they were. He seyd “Be Seynte Martyne, That ilke rache was myne     Not fully gon a yere. “Gode frend, late the hund go.” Syr Libeus ansuerd tho,     “That schall never betyde, For with my handys two I toke hym the meyd to     That stondys here besyde.” Quod Syr Otys de la Byle, “Thou puttys thee in perelle,     Sertys, and thou abyde.” Syr Libeus seyd, “Be Seynt Gyle, I gyff not of thi gyle,     Carle, thoff thou chyde.” Quod Syr Otys in that while, “Sertys this wordys ben vyle!     Carle was I never none: An erle my fader was welle; The countas of Carlehyll,     Sertys, sche was my dame. Yif I were armyd now Als redy as thow,     Fyght we wold in same. Bot thou that rache leve, Thou schall pley or eve     A wounder wyld game.” Quod Libeus “Do thi beste In hast yff thou lyste;     Thys rache with me schall wend.” They toke the wey weste Into the wyld foreste     As the duerfe them kende. Syr Otys with grete errour Rode home in that stowre,     And aftyr hys frendys send, And told them anon ryght Of Arthouras halle is a knyght     Schamefully had hym schend And his rache refte hym. They seyd all and some     That traytour schuld be take. Thei seyd thei schuld hym hyng Thoff he were als strong     As Lanslate the Lake. They dyght them full wele In irene and in stele     As warre schuld awake. Bothe knyghtys and skuyres Lepte on ther deystyres     For ther lordys sake. Fer uppon a hyll so hye Syr Libeus thei gon sye     Ridyng forth hys pase. To hym gan thei cryghe, “Traytour, thou schall abyghe     Todey for thi trespas.” Libeus stode and beheld How full was the feld,     So myche folke ther was. He seyd to meyd Elyn, “For this rache, I wene,     Here comys a sory case. “I rede that ye withdraw Under the wode schaw     Youre hedys for to hyde. The soth for to seyn, Thoff I schall be sleyn,     Them all I schall abyde.” Into the forest he rode And boldly ther he abode     As prince prowd in pride. With bow and with arow blaste To hym thei schot full faste     And made hym wondys wyde. Syr Libeus stede so rane He bore doune hors and man;     For nothyng wold he spare. All the men seyd than, “This is the fend Sathan!     Oure kynd he wyll forfare.” Whom that Sir Libeus raught, He slew with his draught     And slew for ever more. And thus sone he was besette As the fysche in the nette     With grymly gromys there. Twelve knyghtys all preste Com oute of the foreste     In armour clere and bryght. All that dey had thei reste And byden in the foreste     To sle Libeus the knyght. In armour thei were twelve: One was Otys hymselve,     In romans to rede ryght. They smote to hym at ons; They thought to breke his bonus     And sle hym in that tyde. Ther myght men here ryght Strokys sadly lyght     Among them alle in fere. For sothe, withoute lesyng, The sperkyllys out gane spryng     Throught helme and basnet ther. Syr Libeus slew knyghts thre And foure awey gan fle,     Ne durste thei com hym nere. The lord faught in that stoure With hys sonnys fowre     To helpe them in fere. Syr Libeus leyd on strokys ryve; He one agens fyve     Faught as he were wode. Togyder gan thei dryve As beys about an hyve;     Of hym rane the blode. When Syr Libeus was ney spylt, Hys suerd brake in the hylte;     Than was he mad of rede. The lord a stroke hym sette Throught helme and basnet,     That to the flesch it bode. He swonyd and fell adoune Over hys hors crowpon     As man that were amate. Hys fo men were all bowne To pare of hys crowne     Thorow helme, basnet, and plate. When he sore gane smerte, He plukyd up hys herte;     He coveryd upon hys state. He hent an ax that hong hym ne He smote the knyght don be the kne     Thorow habergon and plate. He styred hym ther as a knyght, That thre knyghtys doune ryght     He slew at dyntys thre. When the lord saw that syght Of his hors he gan lyght;     Aweywerd he gan fle. Syr Libeus no lenger abode; Faste as he were wode     After hym rode he. Under a cheston tre he had hym quellyd, Had he not to hym ayelde     At his wyll for to be, And, be a serteyn entent, Tresoure, londys, and rente,     Castellus, halle and boure. Therto Libeus asente, In forwerd that he wente     Unto the Kyng Arthour, And sey, “Lord of renoune, As overcome person     I ame to thyn honour.” The lord grantyd hys wyll, Bothe loud and styll,     And lede hym to hys towre. The duerfe and meyd Elyn Went with Libeus, I wene,     Unto Syr Otys castell. Sche and the duerfe bedene Told of Syr Libeus dedys kene:     Of Libeus how it fell, And of the prisoners fowre That he sent to Artour,     That he wane ryght wele. The lord was glad and blyth, And thankyd God a hundred sythe,     And also Seynt Myghell, That sych an herdy knyght Schuld wyne in fyght     Hys lady feyre and hend. To kovyr meyn and myght Fourti deys with the knyght     Ther than he gon lende, And helyd hym every wonde That he was hole and soune     Be the fourti deys ende. Than Libeus and that mey Toke the redy wey     To Synadon to wend. The lord withoute lettyng Went to Arthour the kyng     And for prisoner hym yeld. He told unto the kyng How suche a knyght yeng     Wan hym in the felde. Kyng Arthour hade gode game And hys knyghtys in same     That herd that tale itold. And ther they chos hym, profytabull, A knyght of the Rownd Tabull     To fyght with spere and scheld. Now reste we a whyle Of Syr Otys de la Lyle,     And tell we forth our tales. Syr Lybeus rode many a myle In aventour and peryle     In Cournewale and in Wales. It befell in the moneth of Jone When the levys wex grene     And floures in sembly sales. The somerys dey is longe; Merry than is the song     Of the nyghtyngales. That tyme gan Libeus ryde Be a ryversyde     And se a feyr syté With palys prowde in pride And castels hyghe and wyde     And gatys grete plenté. He askyd what it hyght. The mey seyd anon ryght,     “I wyll gladly tell thee: Men calys thys Yl d’Ore; Here is fyghtyng more     Than is in many cuntré. “For a lady of price — Hyr rudde is reder than the ryse —     This cuntré is all in doute. A gyant that hyght Magus — Hys pere not fownd is —     He hath her besett abowte. He is blake as any pyche;     In all this lond is non so stoute. The knyght that passyth this bryge Hys armour he muste doune lyge     Or to the gyaunte loute. “He is of thryty fote longe, For sothe also stronge     As other knyghtys fyfty. Syr Lybeus, thinke on thy suete That thou not with hym mete,     For he is full grymly. The here of hys berd gryme Be like the brystelles of a suyne,     For soth wytterly. Hys bonys are full long And hymselfe full strong,     And sleys all that com hym by. “For soth he is as grymly, As I telle thee vereley     And also pardye, As any ox or cow. For soth as I sey yow,     An asse or any nete With carte styffe and gode Uneth, be the rode,     Mey hym and hys gere lede. He is styff and sture; Ther may no man hys dyntys dore,     So than are thei grete.” Quod Libeus, “Meyd hend, My wey wyll I wynd     For all his strokys yll. Yiff God wyll me grace sende, Or this dey be at the ende     With fyght I schall hym spylle. I have sene grete okys Fall with wynd strokys     And smale stond full stylle. I sett not by hym a myte,     And let God do hys wylle.” Thei ryden forth all thre To that feyre syté     That men callyd Yl d’Or. Than Magus gan thei se Upon the bryge of tre,     Bold as any bore. Hys scheld was blake as pyche — Lybeus saw never non syche —     Fowre mawmentys therin were. Ther no whyle he stode; To Lybeus sone he rode.     He was blake as any bere. When he saw Libeus with syght He seyd to hym anon ryght,     “Tell me, what arte thow? Turne agen al so tyte For thine awne profyte,     Yif thou love thi prow!” Syr Lybeus seyd iplyght, “Kyng Arthour made me knyght     And to hym I made a vowe That I schuld never turne bake For thee, thow fend blake;     Make thee redy now.” Magus on fote forth yede And Lybeus rode to hym on stede,     For soth, than full ryght. Lordys and ladys Rode in ther curyculys     To behold that syght. They prayd God of his wyll, Both lowd and styll,     To save that Crystyn knyght, And gyff grace that the gyant That levys of the Termegant     Thys dey be sleyn in fyght. Ther schaftys brake in sonder, Ther strokys faryd as thunder,     The sperkyllus gan out spryng. They drew suerdys bothe As men that were wroth     And gan togeder dynge. Every man had wounder tho That Syr Lybeus was not smyte in two     At the fyrst begynyng. Syr Libeus smote Magus tho, That hys suerd flyye hym fro     And fro hym it gan swyng. Syr Magus dyde quyte hym tho, And smote Lybeus stede so     That he sched hys breyn. Syr Libeus nothing he seyd, Bot up he sterte in a brayd     Ryght full sone agene. An ax he hente full sone That hang by hys croupon     And smote hym with meyn, That a pese of hys scheld Fell doune in the feld     And fell doune on the pleyn. Togyder onne fote thei gan fyght That no man dyskryve myght     The strokys betwyx them two, For thei were unsaught. Depe wondys thei raught     Ayther other to slo. Fro the owre of prime Unto the evynsong tyme     In fyght were thei tho. Syr Lybeus a-thurstyd sore, And seyd, “Magus, thi ore!     To drynke thou late me go. “And I schall grante thee What boune so thou aske me,     Syche grace may betyde. Grete schame it were thee to A knyght for thyrst to slo,     And full lytell profyte.” Magus grantyd hys wyll For to drinke hys fyll     Withouten more delyte. As Lybeus ley on the banke And thrught hys helme he dranke,     Magus gan hym smyte. Into the ryver he fell, Hys armour every dele     Wette and evyll dyght. Up he stert full snell And seyd, “Be Seynt Myghell,     Now ame I to thee lyght! Wenyst thou, fendys fere, Uncrystend that I were?     To thee my trought I plyght: I schall for thi baptyse Wele quyte thee thy servys,     Throught helpe of God almyght.” Than a new fyght began And ayther to other rane     And gafe ther dyntys strong. Many a gentyll man And ladys whyte as swane     For Lybeus ther hondys wrong, For Magus in the feld Cleft Syr Libeus scheld     Throught dynte of armys strong. Than Lybeus rane awey Ther Magus scheld ley     And up he gan it fong. And Libeus rane to hym agene And smote hym with meyne;     Ayther other gan aseyle. To the dey was dyme, Besyde the water bryme     The knyghtys held bateyle. Syr Libeus was weryour wyght And gane strokys of myght     Throught plate and male And throw his schulder bone, That hys ryght arme anon     Fell in the feld withouten feyle. Tho gyant gan to se That he sleyn schuld be;     He stode to fense ageyne. And at the secund stroke, Syr Lybeus to hym smote     And brake hys arme in tweyn. The gyant ther he levyd, Lybeus smot of hys hede;     Therof he was full feyn. He bore the hed into the toune; With a feyr prosessyon     The folke come hym agene. That lady was whyte as flowre That men callyd Denamowre,     Reseyved hym full sone And thankyd hym with honour That he was hyr socoure     Agene the gyant so fell. To a chambyr sche gan hym lede And changyd ther all his wede;     In paule sche clothyd hym welle. Sche proferd hym at a word Ever more to be hyr lord     Of cyté and of castell. Lybeus grantyd hyr in haste And love to hyr he caste. For ever at the last     Sche dyd hym traye and tene: Fully thre wekys and more Sche made hym to duell thore     And also meyden Elyn, That he ne myght oute breke For to helpe ne wreke     The lady of Synadowne. For that feyre lady Couth more of sorsery     Than other sych fyfe. Of many a dyverse melody Sche mad hym mynstralsy     That myght no man dyscry. For when he saw hyr face Hym thought that he was     In paradys onne lyfe. Wyth fantasy and feyrye Sche bleryd hys eye,     That evyll mote sche prove. Tyll it befell onne a dey He mette Elyn the mey     By a castell towre. To hym sche gan sey, “Knyght, take hede to thi ley     Agens Kyng Arthor! For the love of a woman That mych of sorsery can,     Thow doyst thee dyshonour. That Lady of Synadon May long lyghe in prison;     That is full grete dolour!” When that he herd hyr speke Hym thought hys herte wold breke     For that gentyll dame. He toke with hym hys stede, Hys armour and hys other wede,     And rode forth in same. The ladys stewerd hend He made with hym to wend;     Syr Gesloke was hys name. They roden forth talkyng, And so thei dyde syngyng,     And lewgh and made gret game. Syr Lybeus and that mey Rode over ther jorney     On stedys bey and browne. Tyll the thyrd dey They se a cyté gey.     Men callyd it Syndoune, With castellus hyghe and wyde And palsyd prowde in pride,     And werke of feyr facyon. Syr Lybeus askyd that mey Whos was that castell gey     That stode ther in that towne. And sche hym telyd anon; “Syr,” sche seyd, “by Seynt John,     It is my ladys fre. In yon feyre castell Wounys a gyaunt felle,     For sothe wytterly. Hys name is callyd Lamberte, Of all this lond stewerte,     Sertys as I tell thee. And whoso comys into that gate To aske herborow therate     Just with hym wyll he.” Quod Lybeus, “Be my lewté, That wold I blythly se     For ought that may betyde. Thof he be never so stoute, Forsoth I schall make hym to lowte,     So schall I to hym ryde. Therfor meyden Elyn, Ye and the duerfe bedene     In the towne ye mey me byd.” Forth than the meyd rode; The duerfe not abode,     He rode nyghe be hyr syde. Syr Lybeus seyd to Geslake tyte, “To me it were grete dyspyte     To lett for any man of lyve To do Kyng Arthour profyte. And to wyn that lady bryght     Thether wyll I dryve. Syr Gesloke, make thee yare Wyth me for to fare     Hastely and belyve.” They ryden forthe all hate To the castell gate     With feyr schaftys fyve, And askyd ther hostell At the feyr castell     For two of Arthorus knyghtys. The porter feyre and welle Lete them into the castelle     And askyd them anon ryghtus Who was ther governour. And thei seyd, “Kyng Arthour,     Man of most myghtys, Kyng of all curtasy, Flowre of all chevalry,     Hys fo men to fell in fyght.” Than the porter profytabull Unto hys lord constabull     This tale sone he tolde. He seyd, “Withowtyn fabulle, Ther be of the Round Tabulle     Two knyghtys fers and bold. The one is armyd sure In full rych armour     With thre lionus of gold.” The lord was glad and blyth And seyd al so swyth     With hym juste he wold. The porter went agen ryght And seyd to the gentyll knyght,     “For nothyng that thow lete, Loke your scheldys be strong And youre sperys long,     Or your deth ye gete, “And rydys into the feld; My lord with spere and scheld     With yow he wyll pley.” Syr Lybeus spake wordys bold: “Thys be wordys wele told     And lykyng to my pey.” Into the feld thei ryden And ther boldly abyde —     Went thei not awey. Lanbert sent after hys stede, Hys scheld and hys other wede;     Hys atyre was full gey. A scheld he bere full fyne: Thre borys hedys were dynt therin     Blake as brond brend, The borderes were of ermyn. Saw he never so queynte a gyne     In lond werein he wente. Than two sqyres went be his syde; Thre shafftys thei bore that tyde     To dele doughty dynt. He was wonder gay And also large of pay     In werre and in tournament. Tho that stoute stewerd That hyght Syr Lambert     Was armyd at all ryghtys. He rode into the feld werd Prowde as any lyberd     To abyde the knyghtys. He sey Lybeus that tyde And fast to hym gan ryde     When he hym se in syght. He than to hym bare A scheld that was square,     As man of mych myght. Ayther smote other in the scheld, That the pesys flow in the feld     With ther strokys bedene. Every man to other told, Bothe yong and old,     “Thys yong knyght is kene.” Lambert hys course rode And gryned as he were wode     For ire and full of tene. He seyd, “Bryng me a schafte, And if he cane hys crafte     Sone it schall be sene.” Than toke thei schaftys rownd With hedys scherpe wele grounde     And rode with grete rawndon. They prikyd in that stounde To dele depe wond,     Eger as any lyon. Syr Lybeus smote Lambert so That his scheld fell hym fro     Into the feld adoune. So herd onne hym he hytte That he myght not sytte;     Of hys hors he was bowne. Hys scheld he smote so herd; Syr Lybeus smote Lamberte     On hys helme so bryght. Peyzen, vynteyl, and gourger Flew with the helme in fere     And Lambert flew upryght. Syr Lambert thought to juste better; A new helme ther was fette Ayther onne other sette     Strokys grym and grete. Than the constapull Syr Lambert Fell over hys hors bakewerd     Withowtyn any lete. Syr Lambert suere full sone, “By hym that made son and mone,     He schall my lady gete!” Syr Lambert was aschamyd. Syr Lybeus seyd, “Be not agravyd.”     And he ansuerd, “Ney, For sen that tyme that I was born Saw I never knyght me beforn     So strong be this dey. Be thoght that I was inne, Yyff thou were of Gaweyns kynne,     That is so stoute and gey.” “Arte thou he,” seyd Lybeus tho, “That hath don so mykyll wo     To the quen of Synadon? Tell thou me or we hens gon, Or I suere be Seynt Jhon     That I schall pare thy croune.” The stewerd ansuerd and seyd, “Syr, be not yll apayd,     For sche is my lady. Sche is quen of all this lond And I hyr stewerd, I understond,     For soth wytterly.” Syr Lybeus ansuerd tho, “I wold feyne wyte who     Hath brought hyr in dolour?” Syr Lambert seyd tho, “They ben clerkys two     That do that dyshonour.” Anon meyd Helyn Was sent after with knyghtys kene     Befor Syr Lamberte. Sche and the duerff, I wene, Told the dedys bedene     That thei had thyderwerd. And told how Syr Lybeus Faught with many schrewus     And hym grevyd nothyng. Than were thei all blythe And thankyd God fele sythe,     Jhesus hevyn kyng. Anon with myld chere They were sett to sopere     With myche gle and game. Lybeus and Lambert in fere Of aventurys that were     They told both in same. Syr Libeus seyd, withoutyn fabull, To Sir Lambert the constabull,     “What is the knyghtys name?” “Syr,” he seyd, “be Seynt John, Knyght ther is none     That durst hyr awey lede. Two clerkys ben ther fone, Fals of blode and bone,     That hath don that dede. They ben men of mastrye, Klerkys of nygromansye,     Sertys ryght to rede. Irain is the o broder, Mabon is the oder;     For theym we bene in dred. “Irain and Mabon Made a hous of ston     A place queynt of gyne. Ther nis nether erle ne baron That beryght herte as a lyon     That ons durste cum therinne. “Therin is a prisone, And the lady of Synadowne     Ther within is dyght. Oft we here hyr crye, Bot to se hyr with eye     Therto have we no syght. Thys Mabon and Irain Hath swore ther othys sertan     To deth thei wyll hyr dyght, Bot sche grante theym tyll To do all ther wyll     And gyff them all hyr ryght. “Of al this kyngdom feyre Than is my lady eyre     To weld all with wyne.” Quod Lybeus Dysconeus, “For the love of Jhesus,     That lady wyll I wynne!” Ther was no more tale In the castell of gret ne smale,     Bot suppyd than bylyve. Baronus and burges fele in fay Com to that sembly say     For to lysten and lyth When that the prowde stewerd That men call Syr Lamberd     With Libeus hys case gan kythe. They fonde them at soper And made them nobull cher     Knyghtys both stute and stythe. Ther than gan thei duell In that ilke castell     All the long nyght. On the morow Libeus was preste In armour of the beste;     Full fresch he was to feyght. Syr Lambert lede in the gate Ryght unto the castell gate     That stode uppe full ryght. Ferthyr durst he hym not bryng, For soth withouten lesyng,     Baron, burges ne knyght. And turnyd hym agene Syr Gesloke, Lybeus sueyne,     With hym feyn wold have ryde. Syr Libeus swer in serteyn He wold se Syr Geslokys breyn     Yyf he wold ther abyde. On to the castell agen he rode And with Syr Lambert abode.     To Jhesu fast thei cryed That he schuld send them tydingys glad Of hym that long had     Thyder sought full wyde. Syr Lybeus, knyght curtays, Rode into the pales     And at the haule he lyght. Trumpys, pypus, and schalmes He herd befor the dese     And se theym with syght. In mydys of the haule flore He saw a fyre sterke and store     Was tend and byrned full bryght. And ferther in he yede And toke with hym hys stede     That was full gode in feyght. Lybeus forth gan passe Forth into the plas     Ther the fyre was in haule. Nether of more ne les He ne saw in the face     Bot mynstrellus clothyd in paulle. With fydell and with sautré And ilke maner of mynstralsé     Grete gle made thei all. Herpe, pype, and rote, Orgeynus mery of note,     Was within the walle. Befor iche mynstrell gode A torch brynand ther stode     Was tend and byrnand bryght. Syr Libeus in he yode To wytt with egyr mode     Who schuld with hym fyght. He wente abowte in the halle To behold the pyllers alle     That were so feyre of syght; Of jasper and fyne crystall Were thei wrought all,     That were of mych myght. The dorys thei were of bras, The wyndew were of glas     Wroght with ymegerry. The haule so peyntyd was That never non feyrer was     That he hade sene with yghe. He sette hym onne the deyze; The mynstrallys were in peys,     That were so sturdy. The torchys that were bryght They wente oute anon ryght;     The mynstrellus were awey. The dorys and the wyndos all They hytt into the haule     As it were dynte of thonder. The stones in the walle On hym gan thei falle;     Therof he hade grete wonder. The erthe began to quake, The deyze began to schake     As he sate ther under. The haule roffe also Hym thought wold cleve in two     As it schuld in sonder. As he sate thus and seyd He thought he was betrayd,     Stedys herd he nye. Than was he better payd, And to hymselve he seyd,     “Yet I hope to pley.” As he lokyd into the feld, He saw with schaftys and scheld     Men of armys twey In full gode armour Was legud with trapor     With gylden garlond gay. The one rod into the halle And loude he gan to calle:     “Syr knyght aventorys, Syche a case ther is befalle Thof thou be prowd in paule     Fyght thou must with us. I hold thee quente of gyne Yif thou that lady wyne     That is so presyos.” Quod Lybeus anon ryght, “Redy I ame to fyght,     Be the leve of Jhesus.” Syr Libeus with a gode herte Into the sadyll he sterte;     A spere in hond he hente And smertly rode hym tylle Hys fo men for to kylle.     He had grete talente; When thei togedyr smyte On ther scheldys thei hytte     With sperys and doughty dynte. Mabonus schaft braste; Than was he sore agaste     And held hym schamly schent. With hys spere felon Lybeus bare hym downe     Over hys hors tayll. That hors he bore to grownd And Mabon fell that stound     Into the feld saunfeylle. Nygh hand he hade hym sleyn, Bot than came Irain     With helme, hamberke, and male. Full fresche he was to fyght; Syr Libeus anon ryght     Thought hym to aseyle. Syr Lybeus was of hym were, And hys spere he to hym bere     And left hys brother stylle. Syche dyntys he gaffe ther That Iramus hambreke he tere     And than he lykyd yll. Ther suerdys drew thei tho And brake ther suerdys in two     With hertys grym and grylle. Togyder gan thei fyght; Ather preved ther myght     Other for to spyll. As thei togyther gan hew, Mabon, the more schrew,     Than full sone he ros. He herd and welle knew That Irain gaff dyntys few;     Therfor hys herte aros. To hym he went full ryght To helpe and to fell in fyght     Syr Lybeus of nobull los. Lybeus faught with them bothe     And kepyd them in clos. When Irain saw Mabon He smot a stroke felon     To Syr Lybeus with ire, That evyn he cleft down With hys suerd broune     Syr Lybeus stedys swyr. Lybeus was waryer slye, And smote atwo hys thye     And kerfe bothe bone and lyre. Ther helpyd hym not hys armour, Acaton nother his charmour;     So he quitte hym his hyre. Libeus of his hors was lyght With Mabon for to fyght     In feld bothe in fere. Sych strokys thei dyght That the fyre sprong out ryght     Of scheld and helme clere. As thei togyder streke, Ther suerdys together mette     As ye may lysten and lere. Mabon smote to Lybeus full swythe And brake Lybeus suerd that was stythe.     O love was ther no word! He rane to Mabon ryght; Full faste gan thei fyght,     As gestours tellys at bord. And ever faught Mabon As it were a lyon     Syr Lybeus for to slo. Bot Lybeus kerve adone Hys scheld with hys swerd browne     That he toke hys brother fro. In ryght tale as it is tolde, The ryght arme with the schelde     He bare awey also. Than seyd Mabon hym tyll, “Thy strokys beyn full yll!     Gentyll knyght, now qwho! “I wyll me yeld to thee, With body and castellus fre     Schall be at thi wyll. And that lady fre That is in my posté     Take I wyll thee tyll. For throught thi suerd dynte Myn one hand have I tynte     That well nyghe wyll me spylle. Therfor, thou save my lyve, And ever withouten stryffe     At thi wyll I schall be.” “Nay,” quod Lybeus, “be my thryft, I wyll not of thi gyfte     For all this werld to wyne. Turne thee, thefe, and fyght, For I schall as I hyght     Hew thy hede of thi chyn.” Than Mabon and Syr Lybeus Full fast togeder hewus;     They let not for no synne. Syr Libeus was more of myght, And clefft his hed doune ryght     And smot it of by the chyn. Than Mabon was sleyn, He ran towerd Irain     With his swerd in syght For to se hys breyn. I tell yow for syrteyn,     For to fyght more hym lyst. And when he come ther Awey he was bore     To some place that he ne wyst. Than he swet for the nons Both in flesch and in bonus;     In trewth full wele he tryst. And when he myght not fynd Irain, He yede agene serteyn     And he syghed full sore. And seyd in dede and thought, “It wyll be dere bought     That he is fro me fare, For he wyll with sorsery Do me grete turmentry     And that is my moste care.” He satte full styll and thought What he best do mought;     Of blys he was full bare. As he satte thus in the haule Oute of the ston walle     A wyndew feyre unfold. Grete wonder withall In hys hert gan falle,     And sate and gan behold. A worme ther out gan pas With a womans face     Yong and nothing olde. Hyr body and hyr wyngys Schon all thingys     As it were gleterring gold. Hyr tayll was unmete, Hyr palmys grym and grete,     As ye mey lysten and lere. Syr Lybeus suette for hete As he sate in hys sete,     As he had be in fyre. So sore he was agast, Hym thought hys herte brast     As sche neyghed hym nere. And or Syr Lybeus wyst, The worme with mough hym kyst     And hang aboute hys swyre. And after that kyssyng Both the tayll and wyng     Sone thei felle hyr fro. So feyr in all thing Woman, withoute lesyng,     Saw he never tho.1 Bot sche was all nakyd As the clerkys hyr makyd;     Therfor Lybeus was wo. Sche seyd, “Knyght gentyll, God yeld thee thy wyll;     My fo men thou wold slo. “Thow hast sleyn, for sothe, The clerkys that well couthe     Of sorcery be the fend. Est, west, north and soughthe, With maystery of ther mouthe     Many men thei schend. Throught ther conjurment To a worme thei had me schent,     Ever in wo to wende Tyll I had kyssed Gaweyn That is full doughty, serteyn,     Or some of hys kyne. “For that thow hast savyd my lyfe, Castellus fyfty and fyve     Take I wyll thee tylle, And myselve to wyfe, Styll withoutyn stryffe,     Yiff that it be your wyll.” Lybeus was glad and blythe, And lepe onne hys sted suythe     And left that lady styll, And seyd he dred Irain, That he had hym not sleyn;     With spyte he thought hym to spyll. Syr Lybeus, the knyght gode, Into the castell yode     To seke after Irain. He lokyd into the chambour Ther he was in towre,     And ther sone he hym wane. He went into the towre And in that ilke chambour     He saw Irain that man. He drew hys suerd with myght And smote of hys hede with ryght,     For soth, of Irain than. Fro the castell than he rode. Ther all the folke hym abode;     To Jhesu gan thei crye. Lybeus to Lambert tolde And to other knyghtys bold     Hys tale full pretely: How Mabon was slayn, And woundyd was Irain     Throught myght of God and of Mary, And that lady bryght To a dragon was dyght     Throught myght of sorcery. And with a kys of a knyght A woman sche was aplyght,     A comly creature. “Bot sche me stode before, Nakyd as sche was bore,     And seyd, ‘now ame I sure “‘My fo men thou hast sleyn, Bothe Mabon and Irain;     Therfor joy God thee send.’” When Lybeus in that forwerd Had told to Syr Lamberd     Both word and ende, A robe of purpure pryce Furred wele with gryce     He send hyr to begynyng. Kercheffys and garlondys ryche He sent hyr privylyche;     A meyden gan them bryng. And sche was redy dyght, Sche went with men of myght     To hyr awne duellynge. Than all the folke of Synadon With a feyr processyone     That lady gane home bryng. When sche was com to town Of gold and presyous stones a crown     On hyr hed was sette. They were glad and blythe, And thankyd God felle sythe     That hyr balys were bette. Than all the knyghtys doughty Send umage to that lady     As it was law in londus. Sevyn deys thi made ther sogour With Syr Lambert in the towre;     All men bowyd to hyr hondys. And when thei had thus don They toke leve and went son,     All the folke in same. Than went thei with honour Unto Kyng Arthour     With myche gle and game. They thankyd God of his myghtys, Kyng Arthour and hys knyghtys,     That sche had no schame. Arthour gave belyve Syr Lybeus that mey to wyve,     That was so jentyll a dame. The myrthe of that brydall May no man tell with tale,     Ne sey in no geste. In that sembly sale Wher brydys grete and smale     And ladys full honeste. Ther was many a man, And servys gode wone     Both to most and leste, For soth the mynstrallus all That were in that halle,     And gyftys of the beste. Syr Lybeus moder so fre Come to that mangeré;     Hyr rudd was rede as ryse. Sche knew Lybeus wele be syght, And wyst wele anon ryght     That he was of mych pryse. Sche went to Syr Gawen And seyd, “Withouten leyn,     Thys is owre chyld so fre.” Than was he glad and blyth And kyssed hyre many a sythe,     And seyd, “That lykes me.” Syr Gawen, knyght of renown, Seyd to the Lady of Synadon,     “Madame, treuly, He that hath thee wedyd with pride, I gate hym under a forest syde     Of a gentyll lady.” Than that lady was blyth And thankyd hym many a syth,     And kyssed hym sykerly. Than Lybeus to hym wan, And ther he kyssed that man,     Forsoth, treuly. He fell on kneys in that stond — Lybeus knelyd on the ground —     And seyd, “For God all welding, That made the werld rownd, Feyr fader, wele be ye fownd!     Blysse me with your blyssyng.” That hend knyght Gawen Blyssed hys son with mayn     And made hym up to stond. And comandyd knyght and sweyn To calle hym Gyngelayn     That was lorde of lond. Forty deys ther they duellyd And grete fest thei held     With Arthour the kynge. As the gest hath told, Arthour with knyghtys bold     Home gan hym bryng. Ten yere thei lyved in same With mekyll gle and game,     He and that suete thyng. Jhesu Cryst, owre Savyour, And his moder, that suete floure,     To heven blys us bryng. Here endys the lyfe, I tell yow, withouten stryfe,     Of gentyll Libeus Disconeus. For his saule now byd ye A Pater Noster and an Avé,     For the love of Jhesus, That he of hys sawle have pyté, And of owrys, if hys wyll be,     When we schall wend therto. And ye that have herd this talkyng, Ye schall have the blyssing     Of Jhesu Cryst allso. AMEN QUOD RATE

(see note) (t-note) [May] they help Those who will listen Intelligent; warrior (see note) Begotten; (see note) worthy I never heard spoken of although; (see note) (see note) would do harm company fear; reputation (see note) (see note); (t-note) naive (innocent, simple) indeed was named wild animals captured; (see note) harmless; (see note) took off; clothes (armor) dress; (see note); (t-note) went; (see note) lived Among for love unknown (uncivilized) by request fighting; am I capable now lying truly since to look upon James know foolish (innocent) in her sport (t-note) know; are named all together (t-note) (see note) earnest and in jest same in a stroke (see note) gilt field Of all princely sports favor he asked; (see note) (t-note) too young engage in a good combat By anything i.e., Without further discussion Duke sat i.e., time taken to ride a mile riding in covered in sweat maiden was called Courteous Elaine beautiful countess nor beautiful to look upon equal maiden white fur equipped horse blue cloth Princely/Fierce; bold; (see note) people overcoat marten shoes were made slashed Widely known knew of entertainment Citole [and] psaltery (stringed instruments) together could [play] storyteller (jester) rooms believe immediately take up difficult sadness (see note) is brave rescue (win) jumped (t-note) bear witness strength blow maiden; complain; (see note) time sent here [news] will spread widely lost disgraced stupid deal a man’s blow (i.e., do man’s work) strength (see note) fury Leapt (approached) wise farthing (fourth of a penny) Before lying Perilous Bridge; (see note); (t-note) afraid words blow flies (flees) from i.e., anywhere torn into pieces Arthur’s quickly (fiercely) befits looks dare wind [made] by a sword place (time) suckle prize (t-note) brave where you can; (t-note) maiden sat silently in anger ill pleased table was taken up (see note) together immediately river slay his foes eager handsome hall (see note) (see note) put on [him] ribbon (ornament) without a doubt; (t-note) coat of mail (hauberk) made studs companion; (see note) neck ornamentation not of iron placed keen curved sword fierce; (t-note) (t-note) Without argument (delay); (t-note) eager to go; (t-note) raised fortune and time; (t-note) rescue; courteous; (t-note) horse For three days (see note) Fool, wretch Even if; five times more worthy Lost would be widely known fighting; withstand out of his senses (enraged) haunch risk ourselves regardless of what may happen; (t-note) see if he will stay seated on his horse (t-note) causeway (bridge) appearance (t-note) believe (t-note) Halt, my pretty friend; (t-note) together then escape from me so [easily] before we depart furlong to the west skill ready delay speed (violence) moment sat so firmly [in his saddle] shattered fall hindquarters down rose faith brave (strong) dismount rush strike; (see note) wonderfully vigorously; (t-note) Blows sparks burst [So] that; corner (slice) moment knight strong and skillful Chin strap and plume down immediately He cut off mightily From Shaved broke; (t-note) [So] that; saw; (see note); (t-note) Let me escape alive disgrace this place Before you leave here shining go; (see note) overcome (vanquished) noble commanded (t-note) An event began to unfold fine cloth same together uncle’s sons (cousins) outcry Uncle injury fast valiant (t-note) needs no teaching fast; (t-note) Stop surrender By promised flea fight although; angry attack Before; leaves coat of mail cut through double riveted knew; man step by step (comfortably) entertainment; (see note) ask offense necessary (see note) lose (t-note) together moment (see note) surely appearance laughed [who had] lost strength (t-note) spurred brave fierce Joust hope out of mind (enraged) keen sword cut into; head felt fierce courage struck enraged and insane struck [He] stoutly faced them felled surrender then two pledge your honor surrender to you in your power Unless slay; (t-note) before (t-note) bound maiden (bird) continually knew leapt down groves built shelter for themselves shining maiden appearance kept watch preprared fear outcry scent of a roast (i.e., meat) seized (see note) loathsome demeanor rose on the briar quickly; (t-note) loudly take notice lived forgotten (abandoned) victory knew together children’s fearsome beautiful (t-note) together (immediately) took groves beseeched killed [i.e., the spit and roast boar] wild blows went jumped As sparks leap from a fire shining pay; reward (t-note) ploughshare laid on (attacked) grease tall; (t-note) know (t-note) hostile took up Before; (t-note) gave moment off (see note) place served him in the same way, truly two many times dwells widely known (see note) (see note) trapped playing thicket disgraced (killed) help [God] who made all the world [May] He give you your reward cross together report rise (spread) noble reputation Gave; as reward; (see note) been directed park strong dreadfully; built dwelling laughed possesses bow down (fall); (t-note) sweetheart worthy in dress falcon; foam; (see note) as reward (see note) If; succeed taken To see in length and breadth; (t-note) each spear quickly (fiercely) Michael (t-note) skill outsmart; (see note) (t-note) Before discussion dwelled peace ready bestride (t-note) morning time spurring delay shrill quickly (t-note) insult [That]; fair appearance If she were dressed [well] in rags falcon (t-note) Where; truly Which [she] is fairer (see note) [So] middle of the marketplace i.e., less beautiful (t-note) Joust quickly (fiercely) in the morning time promise before he would cease ready believe middle appearance do You act on no one’s advice But you act in your childishness lost (destroyed) [So] that rather Hastened [So]; attired him honor thread gray fur neck head shire (land) good palfrey (horse) began to say to each other; (t-note) beautiful (seemly) waited no more of a retinue made; I believe (t-note) Trumpeter The [first] one carried by sure readily prepared wager fine cloth So noble and slender [she] was striped cloth ermine band; head [Was made] complexion (t-note) [were as] silken Curved eyes straight neck; slender (t-note) marketplace beauties to examine Between them there is a great difference; (see note) washerwoman By her upbringing lost If the agreement combat Each to the other struck hostility asunder air trumpeters storytellers did proclaim Look at; warrior fixed; (t-note) fall hindquarters stronger violence laughed That they had never seen before survive immediately many times succeed as well; (t-note) sat so firmly overthrew lost carried was named; (see note) (t-note) won is skilled in war sent me [tribute] with honor; (see note); (t-note) Since excellent (fine); (t-note) florins (coins) feast lasted (t-note) (t-note) hounds; cry (barking) instant Capably; hall guile valley hunting dog; (see note) Since much to my liking were mine (t-note) They rode forth peacefully warriors maidens [had] ridden [When]; hind (female deer) come dashing I spoke of waited under a bough companions blue war-horse place hunting dog Not more than a year ago happen gave him to the maiden (see note); (t-note) You put yourself in danger Certainly, if you stay give (care); cunning (skill) Churl, though Carlisle; (see note) mother As ready as you [are] together Unless; give up before evening Right away if you like; (t-note) will go with me guided them anger time disgraced robbed him of his dog captured hang as Lancelot [of] armed stir up war-horses see way pay So many people I think I advise wood’s shade await (repay) wounds destroy struck blow fierce young officers prepared waited As one rightly reads in romance; (see note) bones hear heavily landed together sparks; flew helmet (t-note) time (see note) plentiful bees From him the blood ran nearly dead angry in mind reached hindquarters exhausted ready pare off (cut off) his head (t-note) suffered severe pain i.e., summoned his courage recovered his bearing grabbed; nigh (near) down by coat of mail (t-note) chestnut; would have killed him; (see note) surrendered And [yielded] by clear decision [With the] promise that he would go (t-note) i.e., in all ways together fierce happened Michael recover strength delay [So] that he was whole and sound delaying gave himself up young Overcame worthy leaves grow green flowers [bloom] in beautiful halls city walls many gates Isle of Gold (t-note) gentility cheeks; rose fear (see note) trapped (see note) fierce lay bow tall suit (purpose) hair of his fearsome beard swine (boar) In certain truth truthfully certainly An ass or cattle sturdy Scarcely (with difficulty), by the cross Can pull him and his gear fierce endure his blows Noble maiden kill oaks (see note) (t-note) city wood idols (i.e., pictures of idols); (see note) not long (see note) quickly; (t-note) well-being truly; (t-note) From In truth, right away chariots i.e., in every way believes in a heathen god; (see note) day; (t-note) asunder sparks; flew strike blows (t-note) repay; (t-note) horse lost his head moment grabbed [horse’s] hindquarters strength describe hostile attempted Each other early morning (approx. 6 a.m.) evening services your grace (mercy) request repay slay honor (see note) delay every bit badly made quickly (fiercely) ready for you; (see note); (t-note) Did you think, friend of the devil pledge my word baptism Pay you well for your service each to the other swans [To] where Magus’s shield took it vigor Until bank a strong warrior (t-note) fight left off (see note) [She] received aid cruel clothes fine cloth offered swiftly granted her [desire] (see note) betray and harm avenge Knew five other such [ladies] tell of (t-note) illusions and fairy (magic) blinded attempt pledge To knows (t-note) (t-note) together (see note) laughed (t-note) splendidly enclosed with walls; (t-note) appearance Dwells; fierce verily (see note) lodging Joust faith bow down together wait did not wait; (t-note) immediately dishonor hesitate (t-note) ready busily hot (eager) lodging worthy fable (a lie) (see note); (t-note) quickly delay pleasure set burnt wood (t-note) so marvelous a work generous (t-note) toward the combat field leopard wait for strong pieces flew together grinned anger knows his art (i.e., fights well) sharp points violence place Off; sent (t-note) [Fragments of] armor around the neck and throat (see note); (t-note) together (see note) joust fetched (t-note) constable (steward) without fail aggrieved; (t-note) until this day I had a thought (I wondered) kinship; (see note) before we go further cut off your head ill pleased truly know together [in going] to there villains many times together foes great power necromancy (black magic); (see note) to recount rightly (in truth) skillfully (cunningly) made (t-note) Who bears a heart like a lion’s; (t-note) Who has once dared come therein placed (condemned) condemn Unless; to them heir rule; pleasure; (see note) (see note) [they] dined without delay (joyfullly) many in faith handsome hall hear (t-note) inform stout and strong (t-note) ready eager way gate dared turned back again swain (squire) [Although] he wanted to ride with him i.e., split his head open (see note) back again he (Sir Gesloke) rode (see note) dismounted Trumpets, pipes, and shawms (oboes) high table strong and fierce alight (i.e., saw at all) fine cloth psaltery (stringed instrument) every stringed instrument Organs (t-note) ignited; (t-note) went learn; spirit of great skill doors imagery eye high table silent loud shut high table roof said [to himself] Steeds he heard near pleased (see note) [That] was covered with cloth golden garlands adventurous It is such that Although; proudly dressed clever in your tricks will leapt grabbed (t-note) disgraced fierce (t-note) without fail (truly); (t-note) Nearly armor eager aware coat of mail he tore was angry (discomforted) fierce; (t-note) kill wicked courage revived (t-note) nobr> reputation (honor) (see note) close by wicked So that he even cleaved steed’s neck warrior skilled flesh; (t-note) Padded jacket nor his spells i.e., paid him back dismounted together struck learn readily strong Of love (peace) storytellers; table (t-note) ho! (stop); (t-note) (t-note) power (control) lost kill [if] you save; (see note) fortune; (t-note) will not [accept any] promised struck; (t-note) i.e., nothing stopped them When he desired (t-note) moment bones went back [to the hall] cost me dearly torment might opened [he] sat dragon (serpent) Illuminated huge paws hear drew near him before; knew mouth clasped his neck (t-note) knew from the devil i.e., with their spells ruined (killed, disgraced) magic disgraced to remain (wander) in misery forever (see note) I will give to you Peacefully quickly kill Where he was in a tower conquered off (t-note) waited for him (t-note) charmingly (see note) turned power truly; (t-note) [when] she was born agreement (t-note) fine purple gray fur as a start privately And [when]; dressed many times sorrows were better homage custom in [those] lands sojourn (stay) soon together That she had been saved from shame gave joyfully wed bridal feast; (t-note) tale Were maidens in goodly abundance gifts feast complexion; rose excellence lie (t-note) pleases begot (t-note) brought Lybeus to him all powerful courteous strength swain (squire) (t-note) story together much joy and pleasure Ave Maria (Hail Mary) story