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God, that art of myghtis most, Fader and Sone and Holy Gost, That bought man on Rode so dere, Shilde us from the fowle fende, That is about mannys sowle to shende All tymes of the yere! Sumtyme the fende hadde postee For to dele with ladies free In liknesse of here fere, So that he bigat Merlyng and mo, And wrought ladies so mikil wo That ferly it is to here. A selcowgh thyng that is to here, That fend nyeght wemen nere And makyd hom with chyld; Tho kynde of men wher thei hit tane, 1 For of hom selfe had thei nan, Be meydon Maré mylde, Therof seyus clerkus, y wotte how; That schall not be rehersyd now, As Cryst fro schame me schyld. Bot y schall tell yow of a warlocke greytt, What sorow at his modur hart he seyt With his warcus wylde. Jesu Cryst, that barne blythe, Gyff hom joy, that lovus to lythe Of ferlys that befell. A law of Breyten long y soghht, And owt ther of a tale ybroghht, That lufly is to tell. Ther wonde a Duke in Estryke, He weddyt a ladé non hur lyke For comly undur kell; To tho lyly was likened that lady clere, Hur rod reyde as blosmes on brere, That ylke dere damsell. When he had weddyd that meydyn schene And sche Duches withowt wene, A mangere con thei make; Knyghtus of honowr tho furst dey Justyd gently hom to pley Here shaftes gan thei shake. On the morow the lordes gente Made a riall tournement For that lady sake; Tho Duke hym selfe wan stedys ten. And bare don full doghty men, And mony a cron con crake. When this turment was y-ses, Tho ryche Duke and tho Duches Lad hor lyfe with wyn; Ten yer and sum dele mare He chylde non geyt ne sche non bare, Ther joy began to tyne; To is ladé sone con he seyn, "Y tro thu be sum baryn, Hit is gud that we twyn; Y do bot wast my tyme on the, Eireles mon owre londys bee"; For gretyng he con not blyn. Tho ladé sykud and made yll chere That all feylyd hur whyte lere, For scho conseyvyd noght; Scho preyd to God and Maré mylde Schuld gyffe hur grace to have a chyld, On what maner scho ne roghth. In hur orchard apon a day Ho meyt a mon, tho sothe to say, That hur of luffe besoghth, As lyke hur lorde as he myght be; He leyd hur down undur a tre, With hur is wyll he wroghtth. When he had is wylle all don A felturd fende he start up son, And stode and hur beheld; He seyd, "Y have geyton a chylde on the That in is yothe full wylde schall bee, And weppons wyghtly weld." Sche blessyd hur and fro hym ran, Into hur chambur fast ho wan, That was so bygly byld. Scho seyd to hur lord, that ladé myld, "Tonyght we mon geyt a chyld That schall owre londus weld." "A nangell com fro hevon bryght And told me so this same nyght, Y hope was Godus sond; Then wyll that stynt all owr stryfe." Be tho lappe he laght his wyfe And seyd, "Dame, we schall fonde." At evon to beyd thei hom ches, Tho ryche Duke and tho Duches, And wold no lengur wonde; He pleyd hym with that ladé hende, And ei yode scho bownden with tho fende, To God wold losse hur bonde. This chyld within hur was no nodur, Bot eyvon Marlyon halfe brodur, For won fynd gatte hom bothe; Thei sarvyd never of odyr thyng But for to tempe wemen yon. To deyle with hom was wothe. Ylke a day scho grette fast And was delyverid at tho last Of won that coth do skathe; Tho Duke hym gard to kyrke beyre, Crystond hym and cald hym Gwother, That sythyn wax breme and brathe. Tho Duke comford that Duches heynde, And aftur melche wemen he sende, Tho best in that cuntré, That was full gud knyghttys wyffys. He sowkyd hom so thei lost ther lyvys, Sone had he sleyne three! Tho chyld was yong and fast he wex - The Duke gard prycke aftur sex - Hende harkons yee: Be twelfe monethys was gon Nine norsus had he slon Of ladys feyr and fre. Knyghtus of that cuntré geydyrd hom samun And seyd to tho Duke hit was no gamun To lose hor wyffus soo; Thei badde hym orden for is son He geytys no more is olde won, Norsus now no moo. His modur fell afowle unhappe, Upon a day bad hym tho pappe, He snaffulld to hit soo He rofe tho hed fro tho brest - Scho fell backeward and cald a prest, To chambur fled hym froo. Lechus helud that ladé yare, Wemen durst gyffe hym souke no mare, That yong chyld Gowther, Bot fed hym up with rych fode And that full mych as hym behovyd, Full safly mey y sweyre. Be that he was fifteen yere of eld He made a wepon that he schuld weld, No nodur mon myght hit beyr; A fachon bothe of stylle and yron, Wytte yow wyll he wex full styron And fell folke con he feyr. In a twelmond more he wex Then odur chyldur in seyvon or sex, Hym semyd full well to ryde; He was so wekyd in all kyn wyse Tho Duke hym myght not chastyse, Bot made hym knyght that tyde, With cold brade bronde; Ther was non in that londe That dynt of hym durst byde. For sorro tho Duke fell don ded; His modur was so wo of red Hur care scho myght not hyde. Mor sorro for hym sche myght have non, Bot to a castyll of lyme and ston Frely then scho fled; Scho made hit strong and held hur thare, Hor men myght tell of sorro and care, Evyll thei wer bested, For wher he meyt hom be tho way, "Evyll heyle!" myght thei say That ever modur hom fed; For with his fachon he wold hom slo And gurde hor horssus backus in too - All seche parellys thei dred. Now is he Duke of greyt renown, And men of holy kyrke dynggus down Wher he myght hom mete. Masse ne matens wold he non here Nor no prechyng of no frere, That dar I heyly hette; Erly and late, lowde and styll, He wold wyrke is fadur wyll Wher he stod or sete. Hontyng lufde he aldur best, Parke, wodd and wylde forest, Bothe be weyus and strete. He went to honte apon a day, He see a nonry be tho way And thedur con he ryde; Tho pryorys and hur covent With presescion ageyn hym went Full hastely that tyde; Thei wer full ferd of his body, For he and is men bothe leyn hom by - Tho sothe why schuld y hyde? And sythyn he spard hom in hor kyrke And brend hom up, thus con he werke; Then went his name full wyde. All that ever on Cryst con lefe, Yong and old, he con hom greve In all that he myght doo: Meydyns maryage wolde he spyll And take wyffus ageyn hor wyll, And sley hor husbondus too, And make frerus to leype at kraggus And parsons for to heng on knaggus, And odur prestys sloo; To bren armettys was is dyssyre, A powre wedow to seyt on fyre, And werke hom mykyll woo. A nolde erle of that cuntré Unto tho Duke then rydys hee And seyd, "Syr, why dose thu soo? We howpe thu come never of Cryston stryn, Bot art sum fendys son, we weyn, That werkus hus this woo. Thu dose never gud, bot ey tho ylle - We hope thu be full syb tho deyll." Syr Gowther wex then throo; Hee seyd, "Syr, and thu ly on mee, Hongud and drawon schall thu bee And never qwycke heythyn goo." He gard to putte tho erle in hold And to his modur castyll he wold As fast as he myght ryde; He seyd, "Dame, tell me in hye, Who was my fadur, withowt lye, Or this schall thoro the glyde"; He sette his fachon to hur hart: "Have done, yf thu lufe thi qwart!" Ho onswarde hym that tyde - "My lord," scho seyd, "that dyed last." "Y hope," he seyd, "thou lyus full fast"; Tho teyrus he lett don glyde. "Son, sython y schall tho sothe say: In owre orcharde apon a day A fende gat the thare, As lyke my lorde as he myght be, Undurneyth a cheston tre"; Then weppyd thei bothe full sare. "Go schryfe the, modur, and do tho best, For y wyll to Rome or that y rest To lerne anodur lare." This thoght come on hym sodenly: "Lorde, mercy!" con he cry To God that Maré bare, To save hym fro is fadur tho fynde; He preyd to God and Maré hynde, That most is of posté, To bryng is sowle to tho blys That He boght to all His Apon tho Rode tre. Sythyn he went hym hom ageyn And seyd to tho erle, withowt leyn, Tho sothe tale tolde thu mee; Y wyll to Rome to tho apostyll, That he mey schryfe me and asoyll; Kepe thu my castyll free." This old erle laft he theyr For to be is stydfast heyre, Syr Gwother forthe con glyde; Toward Rome he radly ranne, Wold he nowdur hors ne man With hym to ren ne ryde; His fauchon con he with hym take, He laft hit not for weyle ne wrake, Hyt hong ei be his syde. Toward Rome cety con hee seche; Or he come to tho Powpe speche Full long he con abyde. As sone has he the Pope con see, He knelys adown apon is kne And heylst hym full sone; He preyd hym with mylde devocyon Bothe of schryfte and absolyscion; He granttyd hym is bone. "Whethon art thu and of what cuntré?" "Duke of Estryke, lorde," quod hee, "Be tru God in trone; Ther was y geyton with a feynde And borne of a Duches hende; My fadur has frenchypus fone." "Y wyll gladly, be my fey! Art thou Crystond?" He seyd, "Yey, My name it is Gwother; Now y lowve God." "Thu art commun hedur, For ellus y most a traveld thedur Apon the for to weyre, For thu hast Holy Kyrke destryed." "Nay, holy fadur, be thu noght agrevyd, Y schall the truly swere At thi byddyng beyn to be, And hald tho penans that thu leys to me, And never Cryston deyre." "Lye down thi fachon then the fro; Thou schallt be screvon or y goo, And asoylyd or y blyn." "Nay, holy fadur," seyd Gwother, "This bous me nedus with mee beyr, My frendys ar full thyn." "Wherser thu travellys, be northe or soth, Thu eyt no meyt bot that thu revus of howndus mothe Cum thy body within; Ne no worde speke for evyll ne gud, Or thu reyde tokyn have fro God, That forgyfyn is thi syn." He knelyd down befor tho Pope stole, And solemly he con hym asoyle, Tho sarten sothe to sey. Meyte in Rome gatte he non Bot of a dog mothe a bon, And wyghttly went is wey; He went owt of that ceté Into anodur far cuntré, Tho testamentys thus thei sey; He seyt hym down undur a hyll, A greyhownde broght hym meyt untyll Or evon yche a dey. Thre neythtys ther he ley: Tho grwhownd ylke a dey A whyte lofe he hym broghht; On tho fort day come hym non, Up he start and forthe con gon, And lovyd God in his thoght. Besyde ther was a casstell, Therein an emperowr con dwell, And thedurwarde he soghht; He seyt hym down withowt the yate And durst not entur in ther atte, Thof he wer well wroght. Tho weytus blu apon tho wall, Knyghttus geydert into tho hall, Tho lord buskyd to his saytte; Syr Gwother up and in con gwon, At tho dor uschear fond he non, Ne porter at tho yatte, Bot gwosse prystely thoro tho pres, Unto tho hye bord he chesse, Ther undur he made is seytt. Tho styward come with yarde in honde, To geyt hym thethyn fast con he fonde And throly hym con threyt To beyt hym, bot he wende awey. "What is that?" tho Emperour con sey. "My lord," he seyd, "a mon, And that tho feyryst that ever y sye; Cum loke on hym, it is no lye," And thedur wyghtly he wan. Won word of hym he myght not geyt; Thei lette hym sytt and gafe hym meyt. "Full lytyll gud he can, And yett mey happon thoro sum chans That it wer gyffon hym in penans," Tho lord thus onsward than. When tho Emperowr was seyt and sarvyd And knyghttus had is breyd karvyd, He sent tho dompmon parte; He lette hit stond and wold ryght non. Ther come a spanyell with a bon, In his mothe he hit bare, Syr Gwother hit fro hym droghhe, And gredely on hit he gnofe, He wold nowdur curlu ne tartte. Boddely sustynans wold he non Bot what so he fro tho howndus wan, If it wer gnaffyd or mard. Tho Emperowre and tho Emperrys And knyghttys and ladys at tho des Seyt and hym behelld; Thei gaffe tho hondus meyt ynoghhe, Tho dompe Duke to hom he droghhe, That was is best beld. Among tho howndys thus was he fed, At evon to a lytyll chambur led And hyllyd undur teld; At none come into tho hall, Hob hor fole thei con hym call; To God he hym con yelde. But now this ylke Emperowre Had a doghtur whyte as flowre, Was too soo dompe as hee; Scho wold have spokyn and myght noght. That meydon was worthely wroght, Bothe feyr, curteys and free. A messynger come apon a dey, Tyll her fadur con he sey, "My lord wele gretys the; Tho Sawdyn, that is of mykyll myght Wyll wer apon the dey and nyghtt And bren thi bowrus free, And sley thi men bot thu hym sende Thi doghttur that is so feyr and heynde, That he mey hur wedde." Tho Emperowr seyd, "Y have bot won, And that is dompe as any ston, Feyrur thar non be feyd; And y wyll not, be Cryst wonde, Gyffe hor to no hethon hownde, Then wer my bale bredde. Yet mey God thoro Is myght Ageyn to geyt hur spech ryght." Tho messynger ageyn hym spedde To tho Sadyn and told hym soo. Then wakynd ey more wo and wo, He toke is oste and come nere. Tho Emperowr, doghtty undur schyld, With anodur kepped hym in tho fyld, Eydur had batell sere. Syr Gwother went to a chambur smart, And preyd to God in his hart On Rode that boghtt Hym dere, Schuld sende hym armur, schyld and speyr, And hors to helpe is lord in weyr That wyll susstand hym thare. He had no ner is preyr made, Bot hors and armur bothe he hade, Stode at his chambur dor; His armur, is sted was blacke color; He leypus on hors, that stythe in stowr, That stalworthe was and store; His scheld apon his schuldur hong, He toke his speyre was large and long And spard nodur myre ne more; Forthe at tho yatus on hors he went, Non hym knew bot that meydyn gent, And aftur hur fadur he fore. Tho Emperour had a batell kene, Tho Sawden anodur, withowt wene, Assemuld, as was hor kast; Bot fro Syr Gwother comun were, Mony a crone con he stere And hew apon full fast; He gard stedus for to stakur And knyghttus hartys for to flakur When blod and brenus con brast; And mony a heython hed of smott, And owt of hor sadyls, wylle y wott, Thei tombull at tho last. He putte tho Sawden to tho flyghth And made tho chasse to it was nyghth, And sluye tho Sarsyns kene; Sython rode before tho Emperowr. Non hym knew bot that bryghtt in bowr, Tho dompe meydon schene. To chambur he went, dysharnest hym sone, His hors, is armur awey wer done, He ne wyst wher hit myght bene. In hall he fond his lorde at meyt; He seytt hym down and made is seytt Too small raches betwene. Tho meydon toke too gruhowndus fyn And waschyd hor mowthus cleyn with wyn And putte a lofe in tho ton; And in tho todur flesch full gud; He raft bothe owt with eyggur mode, That doghty of body and bon. He seytt, made hym wyll at es, Sythyn to chambur con he ches, In that worthely won. On tho morne cum a messengere Fro tho Sawdyn with store chere, To tho Emperowr sone he come; He seyd: "Syr, y bryng yow a lettur: My lord is commun, wyll take hym bettur, Yesturdey ye slo his men; Todey he is commun into tho feyld With knyghtys that beyrus speyr and schyld, Thowsandus mo then ten; On the he will avenied be." "Hors and armour," than said he, "Hastly had we thenne." God sende Syr Gwother thro Is myghth A reyd hors and armur bryght, He fowlyd thro frythe and fen. When bothe batels wer areyd, Truly, as tho romandys seyd, Syr Gwother rode betwene; Mony a sturdy gard he stombull, Toppe over teyle hor horssus to tombull, For to wytte withowt wene; He hewde insondur helme and schelde, He feld tho baner in tho feld That schon so bryght and schene; He leyd apon tho Sarsyns blake And gard hor basnettus in too crake; He kyd that he was kene. "A, Lord God!" seyd tho Emperowre, "What knyght is yondur so styffe in stowr And all areyd in red, Bothe his armur and his sted, Mony a hethon he gars to bled And dynggus hom to tho deyd, And hedur come to helpe me? Anodur in blacke yesturdey had we That styrd hym wyll in this styd, Dyscomfytt the Sawden and mony a Sarsyn; So wyll yondur do, as y wene, His dyntys ar heyve as leyde; His fochon is full styffe of stele - Loke, he warus his dyntus full wele, And wastus of hom never won." Tho Emperowr pryckus into tho pres, Tho doghtty knyght with hym he ches, And byrkons hom flesche and bon. Tho Sawdyn to a forest fled, And his ost with hym he led That laft wer onslon. Syr Gwother turnyd is brydyll bryght And rode befor is lorde full ryghtt, To chambur then he hym cheys. When his armur of wer don, His hors and hit away wer son, That he wyst not whare. When he come into tho hall, He fond tho Emperour and is men all To meyt was gwon full yare; Among tho howndus down he hym seytt, Tho meydon forthe tho greyhondus feytt, And leytt as noghtt ware; Fedde Hob tho fole, for sothe to sey Lyke as sche dyd tho forme dey; To chambur sython con fare. Tho Emperour thonkud God of hevun, That schope tho nyght and tho deyus seyvun, That he had soo sped; Dyscomfyd tho Sawdyn thwys, And slen is men most of prys, Save thos that with hym fled. "Anturus knyghtus come us too, Aydur dey won of thoo, Y ne wyst wher thei wer bred; Tho ton in reyd, tho todur in blacke - Had eydur of hom byn to lacke Full evyll we had ben steyd." They pypud and trompud in tho hall, Knyghtus and ladys dancyd all Befor that mynstralsy; Syr Gwother in his chambur ley, He lyst nowdur dance ne pley, For he was full wery, Bryssud for strokus that he had laghtth When he in tho batell faghtth, Amonghe that carefull cry. He had no thoght bot of is syn, And how he myght is soule wyn To tho blys that God con hym by. Thes lordys to bed con hom bown, And knyghttys and ladys of renown, Thus this romans told. On tho morne come a messynger And seyd to tho Emperour, "Now is wer, Thi care mey be full cold; My lord is comun with his powyr, Bot yf thu gyff hym thi doghttur dere He wyll hampur the in hold, And byrkon the bothe blod and bon, And leyve on lyfe noght won Off all thi barons bold." "Y count hym noght," quod tho Emperour; "Y schall gare sembull as styff in stour, And meyt hym yf y mey." Tho doghtty men that to hym dyd long Anon wer armyd, old and yong, Be undur of tho dey. Thei leype on hors, toke schyld and speyr, Then tho gud knyght Gwotheyr To God in hart con prey, Schulde sende hym hors and armur tyte; Sone he had bothe, mylke whyte, And rod aftur in gud arey. Hys to commyngus tho dompe meydon had sene, And to tho thryd went with wene, No mon hit knew bot God, For he fard nodur with brag ne bost, Bot preystely pryckys aftur tho ost, And foloud on hor trowd. Tho Emperour was in tho voward, And Gowther rode befor is lord, Of knyghttys was he odde. Tho berons wer to tho dethe dongon And baners bryght in sladus slongon, With strokus greyt and lowd. Tho Sawdyn bare in sabull blacke, Three lyons rampand, withowt lacke, That all of silver schon; Won was corvon with golys redde, Anodur with gold in that steyd, Tho thryde with aser, y wene; And his helmyt full rychely frett, With charbuckolus stonus suryly sett And dyamondus betwene; And his batell wele areyd, And his baner brodly dyspleyd; Sone aftur tyde hom tene. Tho gud knyght, Syr Gowtheyr, He styrd hym styfly in his geyr, Ther levyd non doghttear, y wene; Ylke a dyntte that he smotte Throowt steyll helmus it boott, He felld bothe hors and mon, And made hom tombull to tho gronde; Tho fote men on tho feld con stonde And then ward radly ranne. Tho Sawdyn for tho Emperourus doghttur Gard Cryston and hethon to dye in slaghttur: That tyme hym burd wele ban. To whyle Syr Gwother freschely faghtte Mony a doghtté hors is deythe ther kaghtte, That he myghtte over reche; All that he with his fawchon hytte Thei fell to tho ground and ross not yette, Nor lokyd aftur no leyche. Bot he wold not for yre ne tene No worde speyke, withowt wene, For dowtte of Godus wreke; If all he hongurt, noght he dyd eytte Bot what he myght fro tho howndus geyt; He dyd as tho Pwope con hym teche. Syr Gwother, that stythe in stowre, Rydys ey with tho Emperour And weyrus hym fro wothe; Ther was no Sarsyn so mykull of strenthe, That durst come within is speyre lenthe, So doghttey wer thei bothe. With his fachon large and long Syche dyntus on them he dong Hor lyfus myghtte thei lothe; All that ever abode that becur Of hor deythus meghtt be secur, He styrd his hondus so rathe. That dey he tent noght bot is fyght; Tho Emperour faght with all his myght, Bot radly was he takon, And with tho Sawdyn awey was led; Tho dompe Duke gard hym ley a wed, Stroke of his hed anon, Rescowyd is lord, broght hym ageyn, Lovyd be God in hart was ful feyn, That formod bothe blod and bon. Ther come a Sarsyn with a speyre, Thro tho scholdur smott Gotheyr. Then made the dompe meydon mon; For sorro fell owt of hur toure, Tho doghtur of tho Emperour, To whyte withowt wene. A doghtty sqwyer in hur bare; Of all too deyus hoo styrd no mare Then ho deyd had ben. Tho lord come hom, to meyt was seytt, And tho doghtty knyght, withowt leytt, That had in tho batell byn, To chambur he went, dyd of is geyre, This gud knyght Syr Gwothere, Then myssyd he that meydon schene. Emong tho howndus is meyt he wan; Tho Emperour was a drury man For his doghttur gent; He gard erlys and barons go to Rome Aftur tho Pope, and he come sone To hur enterment, And cardynals to tho beryng To assoyle that swett thyng. Syche grace God hur sentt That scho raxeld hur and rase, And spake wordus that wyse was To Syr Gwother, varement. Ho seyd, "My lord of heyvon gretys the well, And forgyffeus the thi syn yche a dell, And grantys the tho blys; And byddus the speyke on hardely, Eyte and drynke and make mery; Thu schallt be won of His." Scho seyd to hur fadur, "This is he That faght for yow deys thre In strong batell, ywys." Tho Pope had schryvon Syr Gother - He lovyd God and Maré ther - And radly hym con kys, And seyd, "Now art thu Goddus chyld; The thar not dowt tho warlocke wyld, Ther waryd mot he bee." Thro tho Pope and tho Emperour asent Ther he weyd that meydyn gent, That curtesse was and fre. And scho a lady gud and feyr, Of all hur fadur londus eyr; Beyttur thurte non bee. Tho Pope toke his leyfe to weynde, With tham he laft his blessyng, Ageyn to Rome went hee. When this mangeyre was broght to ende, Syr Gwother con to Estryke wende And gaff tho old erle all; Made hym Duke of that cuntré, And lett hym wed his modur fre, That ladé gent and small; And ther he made an abbey And gaff therto rent for ey, "And here lye y schall"; And putte therin monkus blake To rede and syng for Godys sake, And closyd hit with gud wall. All yf tho Pope had hym schryvyn And God is synnus clene forgevon, Yett was his hart full sare That ever he schuld so yll wyrke To bren tho nunnus in hor kyrke, And made hor plasse so bare. For hom gard he make that abbey And a covent therin for ey That mekull cowde of lare, For them unto tho wordus end For hor soulus that he had brend And all that Cryston ware. And then he went hym hom ageyn, And be that he come in Allmeyn His fadur tho Emperour was deyd, And he lord and emperowr, Of all Cryston knyghttus tho flowre, And with tho Sarsyns dredde. What mon so bydus hym for Godys loffe doo He was ey redy bown thertoo, And stod pore folke in styd, And ryche men in hor ryght, And halpe holy kyrke in all is myght; Thus toke he bettur reyd. Furst he reynod mony a yere, An emperour of greyt power, And whysyle con he wake; And when he dyed, tho sothe to sey, Was beryd at tho same abbey That hymselfe gart make; And he is a varré corsent parfett, And with Cryston pepull wele belovyd; God hase done for his sake Myrrakull, for he has hym hold; Ther he lyse in schryne of gold That suffurd for Goddus sake. Who so sechys Hym with hart fre, Of hor bale bote mey bee, For so God hase hym hyght; Thes wordus of hym thar no mon wast, For he is inspyryd with tho Holy Gost, That was tho cursod knyght; For he garus tho blynd to see And tho dompe to speyke, pardé, And makus tho crokyd ryght, And gyffus to tho mad hor wytte, And mony odur meracullus yette, Thoro tho grace of God allmyght. Thus Syr Gwother coverys is care, That fyrst was ryche and sython bare, And effte was ryche ageyn, And geyton with a felteryd feynd; Grace he had to make that eynd That God was of hym feyn. This is wreton in parchemeyn, A story bothe gud and fyn Owt off a law of Breyteyn. Jesu Cryst, Goddys son, Gyff us myght with Hym to won, That Lord that is most of meyn. Amen Explicit Syr Gother |
(see note) Cross; (see note) Protect; foul fiend injure Once; power copulate; noblewomen their husbands Merlin; others; (see note) caused; great pain wondrous; hear marvelous; hear lay with; so near them For they themselves had no form; (see note) By maiden Mary clerks say; I know shield great demon mother's heart; brought wild deeds joyful child Give them; love; listen wonders lay; (see note) lovely [once] lived; Austria; (see note) lady unsurpassed beauty; head-dress; (see note) the lily; bright (innocent); (see note) Her complexion rosy; briar same beautiful doubt feast did the first day Jousted Their lances; shatter; (see note) royal (see note) brought down; valiant cracked many a skull tournament; over worthy; the Led their; joy somewhat more begot; bore wane To his lady I believe you to be somewhat barren; (see note) separate Heirless must weeping; cease The lady sighed; (see note) pale face she She; Mary she didn't care She met a man; truth love (see note) her his desire he wrought his pleasure taken As a shaggy fiend; lept up quickly; (see note) begotten; you in his youth mightily wield crossed herself she went firmly built lady may beget rule An angel God's messenger resolve By a fold of her robe; seized; (see note) make love; (see note) evening; bed; made their way wait gracious lady ever went she burdened; devil's child Until; release; burden none other Than Merlin's For one fiend begot them both; (see note) never did anything else young have intercourse; sinful Each; grew more obviously pregnant one; could do harm; (see note) had him taken to the church; (see note) called soon grew fierce; violent; (see note) comforted; diligently wet nurses Who were; wives sucked them grew; (see note) had sent for six [other wet nurses] Pay heed, gentle audience Before slain banded themselves together joke their ordain [That] he practice no more his old habits [On] no more nurses unfortunately offered him her breast suckled; (see note) tore the nipple; (see note) Physicians; promptly as much as he demanded; (see note) may I swear When; age wield bear; (see note) curved sword; (see note) Know; waxed; fierce many; terrorize He grew more in a year other children did in six or seven wicked in all kinds of ways (see note) time broad sword; (see note) blow; could abide weary of the secret might not endure; (see note) They were ill-situated Curses! slay them strike their; two perils church he smites down Wherever nor matins; hear; (see note) friar solemnly swear (see note) do his father's; (see note) He loved hunting best of all (see note) byways; highways hunt; (see note) nunnery by prioress procession; went to meet him time very frightened; (see note) lay with them truth then he enclosed them burned them; did did believe; (see note) caused them grief destroy by rape; (see note) jump off cliffs hang on hooks other; slew burn hermits poor widow; set do them great An old earl suspect; strain think causes us always the bad think you must be close kin to the devil became angry if you tell lies drawn alive go hence ordered to be imprisoned set off at once through you her heart Speak; health She recently I think; lie Son, now I begot thee chestnut; (see note) sorrowfully confess ere teaching fiend gentle power His [people] Cross took himself lie truthful Pope may confess; absolve safe his steadfast heir; (see note) hastened readily; (see note) (see note) lifted; joy nor pain ever did he journey Before greets for confession his request By; on throne begotten few friendships admonish Holy Church assign penance injure confessed before I go absolved; cease falchion I needs must carry very few Wheresoever eat no food; snatch; (see note) Until you've received a sign chair of authority; (see note) did he absolve him To tell the very truth Food from a dog's mouth; (see note) quickly; his (see note) witnesses; (see note) set himself regularly; (see note) Before evening every day nights; (see note) each day loaf fourth onward he went with Nearby (see note) thither he proceeded outside the gate dared Though he was powerfully built; (see note) guards on the wall blew [a signal] gathered hurried; seat went no usher Nor; gate goes swiftly; crowd; (see note) head table; went under [the table]; his seat steward; stick deal with him quickly fiercely threatened him beat; unless fairest; saw; (see note) quickly he went One word from food Except what; circumstance given; penance answered seated; served cut up mute man would not eat any spaniel it from him drew eagerly; gnawed would [accept] neither curlew nor quail Even if it were chewed or spoiled high table enough mute Duke [Gowther]; drew close comfort evening hidden; a curtain noon he would come Hob their fool they called him; (see note) yield also as mute as Gowther very beautiful Sultan; great power [make] war upon you burn; bowers unless courteous one she is mute None fairer could be imagined by Christ's wounds her would my sorrows be engendered through His power; (see note) Return to her hastened away Sultan awakened increasing sorrow army courageous engaged Each; several battalions promptly Cross war sustain no sooner said his prayer When his horse sturdy in battle [was] strong shunned neither mere nor moor gates rode; (see note) fierce battalion doubt Assembled as was their design But once head did he remove cut down made horses stagger hearts quake in fear brains burst; (see note) heathen head smote off well I know tumble gave pursuit until slew the fierce Saracens Then lovely [princess] so beautiful soon disarmed himself dinner; (see note) took his place Two small hunting dogs two fine greyhounds; (see note) loaf of bread in the one other fresh meat wrested; eagerly worthy one well at ease dwelling (see note) foreboding news (see note) On you; avenged; (see note) sent; His red followed; forest; marsh armies; prepared romance sturdy [knight] he caused to stumble doubt hewed in two felled; field shining helmets to crack in two proved; brave causes; bleed beat them to death hither handled himself well in this place Defeated think blows; heavy as lead falchion delivers his blows wastes; never a one gallops, thick of battle belabors them Those that were left unslain; (see note) bridle as was fitting returned; (see note) was taken off disappeared didn't know where promptly brought forth behaved as if nothing had happened previous created; seven days twice most highly valued Adventurous I do not know; born The one; the other Had either of them been absent Great evil we would have incurred piped; played trumpets desired neither exhausted Bruised; received (see note) did purchase for him got ready romance war Until besiege; castle thrash you leave no one alive assemble together; strong; warfare; (see note) belong Soon By 9:00 a.m. heart quickly (see note) well equipped two comings full knowingly; (see note) without hesitation rides; host in their path vanguard outstanding struck valleys cast down; (see note) rampant; peer; (see note) adorned; red gules azure inlaid carbuncle stones securely; (see note) he came to harm armor lived none more doughty; (see note) Every steel helmets; cut retreated quickly Caused he had good reason to curse All the while caught its death there overtake arose physician anger nor injury without doubt divine vengeance Even though; was hungry Except fierce one in battle ever alongside protects; harm his spear's length struck Their lives; detest; (see note) conflict sure swiftly thought of nothing but his fighting quickly made him a pledge; (see note) Cut off rescued his (see note) (see note) moan tower know without a doubt squire carried her in For two full days she stirred no more Than if she were dead impediment took off his armor; (see note) grieving commanded (see note) burial funeral absolve awoke and raised herself up truly She each part days; (see note) truly absolved quickly [the Pope] kissed him You need not fear; devil vanquished must consent wed courteous heir anywhere took leave to go (see note) wedding feast Austria (see note) lady support forever I shall be buried [i.e., Benedictines] enclosed Even though grieved; (see note) their place; desolate them he ordered construction of forever much knew of wisdom world's their by the time that; Germany (see note) the flower of knighthood asked; (see note) always ready stood in support of the poor (see note) he followed better counsel; (see note) reigned wisely buried a truly pious person Miracle; (see note) Their suffering help may promised; (see note) need makes the blind by God (see note) recovers his estate poor; (see note) Though begotten by; hairy end glad parchment lay dwell omnipotent might |