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Jhesu Criste owre Saviour, And his modir, that swete flour, Helpe us at our nede, That listenith of a conquerour That was wis, witty, and wight werrour, A doughti man of dede. His name was hote Gyngeleyn; Ygete he was of Sir Gaweyn Bi a forestis side; Of a betir knyght ne profitable, With Arthur at the Round Table, Hurd never yet man rede. Gyngeleyn was feire and bright, Gentil of body and feire of sight, Bastard thoughe he were; And his modir kepit him with myght That he schulde se no knyght Yarmed in no manere, For that he was so savage, And blitheli wolde do outrage To his felowis in fere. For dout of wikkid loos, His modir kepid him in cloos As doughti childe and dere. For he was so feire of vise His modir callid him Beaufits, And none othir name. And he him silve was nyse That he ne axid never, ywis, Whate he hight of his dame. Tille hit bifille uppon a day The childe went him to play, Of dere to have his game. He founde a knyght where he lay On armour that was stout and gay, Slayne and made ful tame. The childe drowe off the knyghtis wede And himsilve therin he schrede In that riche armour. And whan he had do that dede, Anone to Glastonbury he yede, Ther was Kyng Arthour, As he sate in his halle, Amonge his knyghtis alle. He grete hem with honour And seide: “Arthour, my lord, Graunt me to speke a worde. Y pray yow, par amour. “Y am a childe unknowe. I come out of the sowthe And wol be made a knyght. Lord, Y pray you nowthe, And with your mery mowthe Graunt me that anone right.” Than seid Arthur the kyng: “Anone, without lesyng, Telle me thi name aplight, For sithen Y was bore, Ne say Y never bifore None so feire a wight.” The childe seid: “Bi Seint Jame, Y note whate is my name, Y am the more nyce. But whan Y was tame at home, My modur, in hur game, Callid me Beaufice.” Than seid Arthur the king: “This is a wondir thing, Bi God and Seint Denyce, When he wol ben a knyght And wote never whate he hight, And is so feire of vis. “Y wol him yeve a name, Bifore yow al in same, For he is so feire and fre; Bi God and bi Seint Jame, So callid him never his dame, Who woman so ever scho be. Nowe callith him alle thus, Lybeus Dysconius, For the love of me. Than may ye witen on a rowe The feire on thatte Y knowe, Certis, so hate he.” Kyng Arthur, anone right, Gan him to make a knyght Uppon the silve day, And yave him armour bright, And with a swerde bright of myght He gurde him, sothe to say. Aftur, him taught Gaweyn, With strenghe in the pleyn, Poynt of knyghtis play. He hongid on him a schilde With grefons overgilde, Ipeyntid of lengthe ful gay. Whan he was knyght ymade, Anone a bone he bade, And seid: “My lord fre, In hert were Y glad The first fighting yef Y had That men axen of thee.” Than seid Arthur the kyng: “I graunt thee thin asking, Whate bone so hit be. But ever me thinkith thee ful yong For to do a good fighting, For any thing that Y can se.” Without eny more resoun, Duke, erle, and baroun, Thei weschid and went to mete. Of wilde fowlis and vensoune, As lordis of gret renoune, Inowe thei had to ete. Nad thei ysate but a while, The montenys of a myle, At hare tabul ysete, Ther come a maid in ride. A dwarfe rode bi hur side, Al biswat for hete. The maid was yhote Elyne, Gentil, bright, and schene, A ladyis mesynger. Ther was never cuntas ne quene So semely on to sene, Ther myght none be hur pere. The maiden was clothid in tarsis, Round and no thing skars, With pelour blandere. Hur sadul was overgilde, With diamoundis fulfillid. Mylke white was hur desture. The dwarf was clothid in ynd, Bifore and eke bihinde, For he was stout and pert. Among al Cristen kynde Suche on schulde no man fynde. His sircote was overte; His berde was as yelow as wax, To his gurdul henge the plax, For sothe, to se with sight. With golde his schone were dight, And kopid as a knyght — Tho semyth of no poverte! Deodelyne was his name. Wide spronge his fame, Bothe northe and eke bi sowthe. Moche couthe he of game: Sotil, sawtre in same, Of harpe, fethil, and crowthe. He spake to that maide hynde: “Damesel, telle thyne erande. Tyme it were nowthe.” The maide knelid in halle Among the lordis and lordlingis all And seid, “My lord Arthour, A caas ther is bifalle, Wors within the walle, Y note nought suche of dolour. My lady of Synadowne Is brought in stronge prisoun, That was of grete honour, And praid you send hur a knyght In warra that were wyse and wight, To wyn hur with honour.” Than stert up a yong knyght, In hert that was lefe and wight, And seid: “My lord Arthour! I schall do that fight And wynne that lady bright, Yef ye be trewe of worde!” Than seid Arthoure: “That is sothe, Certis, withouten othe, Therto Y bere recorde.” And seid: “God yeve thee strength and myght To wynne the lady bright With dynt of sper and swerde.” Than gan Elyne to chide. “Alas,” scho seide, “that tide That Y was hedir ysende! This wordis schalle springe wide; Kynge, loste is thi pride, And thy loce yschende, Now thou woldist sende a childe That is wiltes and wilde To dele doughti dynt, Whan thow hast knyghtis of mayne, Persavale and Sir Gaweyne, That bene price in every turment.” The dwarf with gret errour Stert to Kynge Arthour And seid: “Thou gentil kyng, This childe to bene a werrour, To done a good labour, He is worthe nought a ferthing. Er that ever he that lady se, Bataile five othir thre He dothe, withoute lesynge. At Poynt Perillous, Biside the Chapel of Aventours, Ther schalle he bigynne.” Sir Lybeus than answerid: “Yit was Y never aferd For drede of mannys sawe. Sumwhate have Y lerid, Bothe with spere and with schild. Ther men have ben yslawe, The man that fleith for drede, Bi wey othir bi strete, Y wolde he were todrawe! This bataile Y undirtake And never one forsake, For suche is Arthouris lawe.” The may answerid fulle snelle: “That semyth thee right welle, Who so lokith on thee! Thou ne durst for alle this world Abide the wynde of a swerd, For ought that Y can se.” Than seid the dwarf that stound That, “Dede men on the ground Of thee aferde may be. Nowe Y rede thee in game: Go home and sowke thi dame And wynne ther thi degré.” The kyng seide, anone right: “Here getist thou no nothir knyght, Bi Him that bought me dere! Yef thow thinke him noght wight, Gete thee anothir wher thou myght That is of more powere.” The maide for noye and hete Wolde nought drinke ne ete, For alle that thei myght do, But sate hur downe as careful maide Til the tabul was unleide, Sho and the dworf in fere. Kyng Arthur in that stound Commaundid of that Tabul Rounde Four of the best knyghtis To army him hole and sound Of the best armour that myght be found To army the childe at rightis. He seide: “Throwe the grace of Crist, That in the flem Jourdan was baptist, That he schulde have myght, And bicome a good champiowne To the lady of Synadowne, To sle hur fo in fight.” To army him the knyghtis were fayn, Sir Percevale and Sir Gawayn, In that semely sale. The third was Sir Ewayn. The fourth was Sir Griffayn, Thus tellith the Frensche tale. Thei cast on him of sylke A gippon as white as mylke, In a semely sale, And an hawberk bright, That ful riche was ydight, With maile grete and smale. Gaweyn, his owne sire, Hynge abowte his swire A schilde with on griffoun, And an helme of riche atyre Was stele and none yre. Sir Persevale set on his croun A griffon he brought with him, In werre him with to werre, And a fel fouchone. Ewayn brought with him a stede That was good in every nede, As eger as eny lyon. The yong knyght to hors gan spring, And rode to Arthour the kyng, And seid: “My lord so hynde, Yeve me thi blessyng. Without eny lettyng, My wille is to wynde.” Arthour his hond up hafe, And his blessyng he him yafe, As curteis kyng and kynde, And seid: ”God yeve thee grace, And yeve thee spede and space, To bring that birde out of bond.” The maide was stout and gay, And lepe to hur palfray; The dworfe rode bi hur side. Until the thrid day Uppon the knyght alway, Ever sho gan to chide, And seid: “Thou wrecche, thou caitife, Though thou were so stife, Sone lost is thi pride! This place kepith a knyght; With everi man he wol fight. His name springith ful wide, William Celabronche. His fighting may no man stonche; He is werrour out of witte. But throw hart and honche, With his spere he wol lonche Al that ayens him mete.” Quod Libeous Disconious: “Ys his fighting of suche use And was he never yhitte?” Tide so whate bitide, To him schalle Y ride, And loke how fast he sitte!” Than rede thei furthe al thre Uppon that feire cause. Biside the Chapel of Aventours That knyght thei can se, In armour bright of ble Uppon the Poynt Perilous. He bare a schilde of grene With three lions of golde schene, Proute and precious, To suche lengels and trappis. To dele men rappis Ever hath bene his use. Whan he had of Libeous a sight, He rode to him fulle right And seid, “Welcome, Beaupere! Whate man that here furth rides, He mote with me fight, Othir leve his armour here.” Than seid Libeous Disconious: “For the love of swete Jhesus, Lete us pas, nowe, here, For we have fer to wynde And bene fer fro our frende, This may and ich in fere.” Than seid William tho: “Thou schalt nought ascape so, So God yeve me rest! For we shal bothe two Fight ar that we go A furlong here bi west!” Than seid Libeus: “Nowe Y se That may no betir be, In hast do thi best. Take thi cours with thi scheft, Yef thowe be connyng of craft, For her is myne al prest.” No lengir wolde thei abide, But togadir gan thei ride With grete renowne. Sir Libeous in that tide Smote William in the side With a spere feloun. But William sate so fast That his stiropis tobarst And his arsoun. William gan to stoupe, And over his hors crowpe In that he felle adowne. His stede ranne away, But William nought long lay, But stert up anone right, And seide, “By my fay! Bi this ilke day Y founde never none so wight. But nowe my stede is go, Fight ye on fote also, As ye be a gentil knyght.” Than seide Libeous Disconious: “Bi the love of swete Jhesus, Therto Y am right light!” Swerdis thei drowe bothe, As men that were wrothe, And fought furthe fast. So fast thei gan dinge, The fire, withoute lesing, Out of hare helme barst. But Sir William Celabronche To Libeous gan lonche Throwe his schilde in hast. A quarter fille to ground; Sir Libeous in that stound In hart he was agast. Sir Libeous al with myght He defendid him anone right, As werrour good and slygh. Vesour and crest doun right, He lete fle with myght, Of Williamis helme in highe, Than the poynt of the swerd Schave Williamis berde And come the flesche to nye. William smote Libeous tho, That his swerde brake atwo, That many men it sye. Than gan William mercy to cry: “For the love of Seint Marie, Lete me on lyve pas! It were gret vilonye To do a knyght to dye, Weponles in a place.” Thanne seid Libious Disconius: “Bi the love of swete Jhesus, Thou getist of me no grace But thowe swere me an othe, Ar that we asondir goth Here bifore my face. In hast thowe knely adoun, And swere apon my swerd broun, Thou schalt to Arthour wynde And sei: ‘Lord of renoun, I am come to your prisoun. A knyght me hidir gan synde That men clepith, in your use, Libeous Disconious, Unkouth of kynde and kithe.’” William on kneis him sette And sware as he him hette. Furthe gan he wynde. Thus partid thei alle. William to Arthouris halle Toke the right way. A caas ther gan bifalle; Thre knyghtis proude in palle Met he the same day. His sustir sones he mette there, Feire knyghtis and fre, That were stout and gay. Whan thei say William blede, As wolfe that wolde awede, Thei mede of grete deray. And seid to William: “Who hath do thee this schame? Whi bledist thow so yorne?” He seid: “Bi God and bi Seint Jame, Of on that is nought to blame, A knyght that is ful stout and sterne. Libious Disconious he hight. To falle his foo in fight, He is nought to lerne. A dwarf ridith him bifore, His squyar as he were, And eke a wel faire schene. “But on thing grevith me more, That he hath made me swore Uppon his bronde bright That Y schal never more, Til Y come Arthour bifore, Stynt day ne nyght. To him Y must me yelde As overcome in fielde, Bi power of his knyght, And never agayne him bere Nothir schilde ne spere, And thus Y have him bihight.” Than seid the knyghtis thre: “Thow schalt wel ywreke be, Certis, without faile! He alone ayene thre — He is nought worthe a stre To bide bataile. Go furthe, William, and do thi othe, And though the traitour be wrothe, We schulle him asaile, Ar he this forest pas; We schul his hauberk of bras, Though it be thik of maile.” Hereof wist no wight Ne Libeous, the gentil knyght, But rode furthe paas bi pace. He and that maide bright Maden togadir that nyght Game and grete solas. “Merci,” scho gan him crye, For sho spake him vilonye, And he forgave hir hur trespas. The dwarfe was hur squyour, And servid hem fur and nere Of alle that worthi was. On morow, whan it was day, Thei rod on hare journay Toward Synadoun. Than sawe thei in way Thre knyghtis stout and gay Come ridyng fro Karlioun. To him thei cried anone right: “Traitour, turne thowe and fight Or els lete thi renoune, And that maide bright, That is so feire of sight, Lede we wolle to toune!” Sir Libeous to ham cried: “Y ame redy to ride Agayne yow al in same, As princis proude in pride!” He prekid his stede that tide, Al in ernyst and nought in game. The eldist brothir than bere To Sir Libious a spere, Sir Gawer was his name. Sir Libious rode to him anone, And brake his rigge bone, And lete him ligge lame. The knyght merci gan crye. Sir Libious than sicurlye Hilde him fast adoun. The dwarfe, Deodolyne, Toke the stede bi the rayne, And lepe up in to the arssoune. He rode than with that To the maide ther scho sate Of so feire face. Than louge that maide bright And seid: “This yong knyght Was wel ychose champioun.” The myddil brothir stode and bihilde. His brothir in the filde Had lorne mayne and myght. He smote so, hit is tolde, Into Sir Libiousis schilde With a spere anone right. Sir Libious awey gan bere With the poynt of a spere The helme awey of the knyght. The yongist brothir gan furth ride And prekid his stede that tide, Egir as lioun wight. He seide to Sir Libious anone: “Sir knyght, bi Seint John, Thou art a fel champioun and light. Bi God that deide on tre, Fight Y schalle with thee, Y trowe, and bere thee doun.” As werrour out of witte, Sir Libious gan he hitte With a felle fauchon; So stif his stroke he sette Throwe helm and basnet He carve Libious croun. Than was Libious agrevyd, Whan he frede on his hede A swerde of egir mode. His swerde aboute him wend. Al that him toke he clevyd, As werrour wilde and wode. Than seide Libious tho: “One ayeyne two To fight it is nought good.” Fast he hewe on him With grete strokis and grym, And stife agenst hem stode. But throwe Godis grace, He smote the myddelist in the place Uppon the right arme tho. He fledde in that caas, And in that ilke spaas, The right arme fille him fro. The yongist sy that sight; He had no mayne ne myght To fight ayen his fo. Tho up he yelde Bothe his spere and his schilde, And mercy he cried tho. Sir Libious answerid,“Nay! Thou schalt nought so go away, Bi Him that bought us bothe. Thowe and thi brotherne tway, Ye schulle sicour me your fay: Ye schulle to Arthour wynde And sey, ‘Lordis of renoune, As overcome presone A knyght us hedir gan send To yelde you towre and towne, And be undir your bandowne To oure lyvys ende.’ “And but ye wol do so, Certis Y schalle sle you two Longe ar it be nyght.” The knyghtis sware to him tho That thei schulde to Arthour go, And trewthe to him thei plight. Libious and that may Went in hare way As thei had yheght, Til the third day Thei rode in game and play, He and that birde bright. Thei rode ever west Into a grene forest, And myght not come to toun. Thei ne wist whate was best; Nedis thei must rest, And ther they lighte adoun. In the grene grevys, Thei made a logge of levys With swerdis bright and broun. Therin thei dwellid al nyght, He and that birde bright, So feire of facion. And ever the dwarfe gan wake. A fire he sey make, Fro him nought halfe a myle. “Arise,” he seide, “Sir Knyght! To hors that thou were dight, For drede of more perile! Certis, Y hire grete bost; Y have a smylle of rost, By God and by Seint Gile.” Sir Libious was stout and gay, And lepe on his palfray; He hent schilde and spere. As he went furthe fast, Two jeyauntis he founde at the last, Whan that he come there. That one was blak as picche, That othir rede and lotheliche; Ful fowle thei were of chere. The blake gan holde in barme A feire maide bi the arme, Bright so rose in brere. The rede geaunte so yorne On a spitte a bore gan turne. For sum man schulde it wete, Sho seide, “Welaway! That ever Y abode this day Bitwene two develis to sytte! Helpe me, Marie mylde, For the love of thi childe That Y be nought forgit!” Quod Libeous: “Bi Seint Jame, To bring this maide out of schame Hit were a feire empris!” He toke his cours with his scheft, As man that cowthe his craft, And rode at the right asise. To fight with ham bothe in same, It is no childis game; Thei bith fulle grymme and grise. The blake he smote smert Throwe lyver, longen, and hert, That never he myghte arise. And than fleygh that maide schene, And thonkid heven quene. That socour hur sent. That came maide Elyne, Sho and the dwarf bidene, And bi the honde hur hent. Thei went to the grevys Into the logge of grene levys With welle goode entent, And bisoughte Jhesus, That he wolde helpe Libeus Disconyous, That he be nought yschent. The rede geaunt smote thore To Libeous, with the wilde bore, As wolfe that wolde of wede. His dynt he sette sore, That Sir Libeous stede therfore Doune to grounde he yode. Sir Libeous than ful smert Out of his sadille stert, As sparkil dothe of glede. As egir as eny lioun, He faught with his swerde broun To yelde the geaunt his mede. The giaunt with the spit gave a stroke With the butte of a yong oke That he had on the bore. He leide on Libeous fast, While the spit wolde last, Ever more and more. The bore was ful hote than; On Sir Libeous the grece ran, Swithe fast thore. The giaunt was stife and strong; Fifteen fote he was longe, And smote Libeous sore. And ever the giaunt To Libeous, wel Y wote, Tille his spit brake on two. As a man that was unsaught, A tronchon up he caught, To fight ayens his fo. With the ende of a tre He smot Libeous schilde a-thre. Than waxid Libeous ful wo. Er he the tre up hafe, Sir Libeous a stroke him yafe, That the right arme fil him fro. The giaunt fille to ground, And Libeous in that stound Smote of his hed ful right, In Frensche tale as it is found. Tille that othir he went that stound And servid him aplight. Tho he toke hedis tway And bare ham to that may That he wan in fight. The may was glad and blithe, And thonkid God fele sithe That ever he was made knyght. Tho seid Libeous: “Gentil dame, Telle me, whate is your name, And where ye were ybore.” Sho seide: “Bi Seint Jame, My fadir is of riche fame, And wonyth here biforne. An erle, ykidde a noble knyght, That is a man of moche myght, His name is furre ytolde. Mi name is Violette, That the giaunt had bisette Undir our castelle ful yore. “Yustirday, in the mornynge, As Y went in my playnge, None eville Y thought. The giaunt, without lesinge, Out of a busche gan sprynge, And to his fere me brought. Of him Y had bene yschent, Ne God had socoure ysent, That alle the worlde wrought. He yilde thee thi mede, That for us gan blede, And with his blode us bought.” Withoute more talkynge, To hors gan thei sprynge And rede furthe alle in same, And tolde the erle tithinge Howe he wanne in fightynge, His doughtir fro wo and schame. Than were the hedis ysent To Kinge Arthour, in present, With moche gle and game. Thanne in Arthouris court arose Libeous Disconiousis noble lose And his gentil fame. The erle, for his good dede, Gave Sir Libeous to mede Shilde and armour bright, And also a noble stede That was good at nede In travaile and in fight. Sir Libeous and that may Rode in hare journay Thedir as thei had yhight. Than thei sawe in a park A castelle stife and stark, That wondir wel was dight, Ywallid was with stone — Suche sawe he never none — With towris stif and stout. Quod Libeous: “Bi Seint John, Hit were a feire wone, Whoso had grete dout.” Than lought the maiden bright And seide: “This owith a knyght, The beste here about. Whoso wol with him fight, Be he baron, be he knyght, He dothe him lowe to lowte. “For the love of his lemmon, That is feire a womon, He had do crye and grede. Whoso bringith a feirer ane, A jerefawken as white as swane He schalle have to his mede. Yef sho be nought so feire in sight, With Greffroun he must fight. And yef he may nought spede, His hedde schalle him be reft, And ysette apon a sheft, To seyn longe and brode. “The sothe thowe may se welle. Ther stont on every cornelle An hede or two up right.” Quod Libeous also snelle: “Bi God and bi Seint Mighelle, With Geffroun Y mote fight And chalange the jerefawcoune And sey I have in towne A lemman two so bright, And yef he will hur se, Forsothe, Y bringe thee, Be it day othir nyght.” The dwarf seide: “Bi Jhesus, Gentil Libeous Disconious, Thou puttist thee in grete perile. Geffron le Frediens In his fighting he hath defens Knyghtis to bigile!” Libeous answerid thare: “Therfore have thou no care. Bi God and bi Seint Gile, Y schalle se his face, Or Y hens pace Fro this stede a myle.” Withouten more resoune, Thei dwellid stille in the toune Alle that nyght in pees. On the morowe Libeous was boune To wynne him renoune, Certis, withouten les. He armyd him fulle sure In that ilke armour That the erle of Auntouris was. A stede gan he bistride; The dworfe rode bi his side To that prowde place. Geffron le Frediens Rose as it was his use In the morowe tide For to honour swete Jhesus. Ther come Libeous Disconious, Come prikyng as prins in pride. Without more abode, Ayens Libeous he rode, And lowde to him he cried, With vois scharp and schrille: “Comyst thowe for good othir ille? Tel me and nought ne hide.” Quod Libeous also tide: “Y have grete delyte With thee for to fight! Thowe seiest in dispite That woman is none so white And as thyne is bi day and nyghte, And Y have in towne Fairer of faciowne, In clothis and scho were dight. Therfore the jerfawcoune To Arthour, kyng of crowne, Brynge Y wolle with right!” Quod Geffrron: “Gentil knyght, Where schulle we preve aplight? Ther nowe men mowe se. In the myddille of the market Ther thei schulle be set, To loke on, bonde and fre, And my lemman be broun. To wynne the jerfaucoun, Justi Y wolle with thee.” Quod Geffron also snelle: “Alle thus graunt Y welle, This day bi undirtide, Bi God and bi Seint Michel. Out of this castelle To Karlylle wolle Y ride!” Hare glovys up thay yolde That foreward for to holde, As prins prout in pride. Sir Libeous er he wolde blynne, He rode in to his inne, And wolde no lengir abide, And seide to maide Elyne, That bright was and schene: “Loke that thou make thee bowne.” And seide: “Bi Heven Queen, Gefferonis lemmon, Y wene, Today schalle come to towne. In the myddis of the cité Ther men schulle you se, Faire of facioune, And yef thowe be nought so bright, With Geffron Y wol fight To wynne the jerfaucoune!” The dwarfe answerid and seide: “Nowe is this a wondir dede, For eny manne ybore! Thou doste bi no manis rede, But first in thi childehede, As man that wolde be ylore. Therfore Y thee pray, Wandir we furthe in our way That we ne come him bifore.” Libeous seide: “That were schame! Y had lever, bi Seint Jame, With wilde hors be ytore!” That maide feire and fre Hied hur, certeyne, to be Fast to hur atyre, For to do his profite: In kerchevys feire and white, Araied with golde wire; Of felwet a mantel ful gay, Yfurrid with grys ful gray, Scho cast abowte hur swire. Stonys abowte hur molde Were precious endentid with golde, The best of that empire. Sir Libeous sette that may Uppon a good palfray. Thei rode furthe, alle thre. Ilke a man to othir gan say: “Here comyth a lady gay And semely on to se!” In to the market thei rode, And boldely ther abode, In myddis of that ilke cité. Than thei say Gefferon come ride, Two squyars bi his side, And no more maigne. He bare a schilde of grene, That dight was wel, Y wene, Of golde was the border, ryngid with floris, And of the same colour, Ydighte with othir flowris, Was gayer than any cromponis. Two squyars with him rede, Thre speris bare bi his side, That good were and sure. That othir bare redy boune The gentil jerfaucoune, That leide was the wagure. That aftur gan ride A lady ful of pride, Yclothid in purpul palle. The folke were come ful wide To se hur, bakke and side; Sho was so gent and smale. Hur mantelle was ruffyne, Yfurrid wel with ermyne Ryche and rially, And a bende about hur molde, Of precious stones of golde, With many a riche amayle. As rose hur rode was rede; Hur here schyned on hur hede As golde wire schyning bright; Hur browys as silken threde Ybent in lengthe and brede; Sho was ful feire in sight. Hur ien were grey so glas; Mylke white were hur face; Hur nose was straight and right; Hur swire was long and smale. Hur beauté, to telle alle, No man with mowthe ne myght. Than sho made to brynge Tway cheiris in to cheping, Hur beauté to discryve. Than seide olde and yonge, Forsothe, withoute lesynge: “Bitwene ham was grete part. Geffronis lemman is clere As rose in one erbere, Forsothe, and nought to lye; Elyne the mesynger Nas but a lavender In hur lavendrye.” Quod Geffron le Fredus: “By the love of swete Jhesus, That hawke thow hast forlore!” Quod Libeous Disconious: “That was never myne use! Justy Y wolle therfore, And yef ye falle me doune, Take my hedde and that foukone As covenaunt was bifore; And yef iche fille downe thee, The fawkon schalle wynde with me, Though thow be wrothe therfore.” No more talis thei tolde. Thei went into the fielde With welle gret partye, With strokis stife in schilde; Every ayens othir hilde With wel grete envye. Here schaftis brake in sondir, Hare dyntis fyrde as dondir That comyth out of the sky. Mynstrals and trompours, Harpours and gestours, Hare strokis gan discry. Than gan Geffron speke: “Bryng me a scheft that wol not breke, A schefte good with alle! So this yonge freke Sittith in sadulle ysteke As stone in castelle walle. I schalle make him stoupe, And over his hors croupe And yeve him an eville falle, Though he were as wight werrour As Alexaundre or Kyng Arthour, Launselake or Persevale!” The knyghtis bothe two Reden togadir tho With fulle grete renoune. Sir Libeous smote Geffron tho That his schilde fille him fro Into the filde a doune. Than loughe alle that ther was, And seide bothe more and las, Duke, erle, and baroun, That never thei ne sy A man that myght dury A stroke of Sir Geffroun. Geffron rode to him swithe, Forsothe, fele sithe, And yit myght not spede. He rode ayen ful tite, And Libeous on the helme he hite, As a man that wolde of wede. But Libeous smote so fast That Gefferon doune he cast Bothe him and his stede, That Geffronis rigge tobrake. Men myght hire the crake Fer of lengthe and brede. Alle seide, that ther were, That Geffron had forlore The gentille joly faukon; To Libeous was he ybore. Al wend, las and more, With him in to the toun. Geffron in his schilde Was ybore out of the filde, With many bolde baroune. The gentil faukon ybore was, Bi a knyght that hight Clewdas, To Arthour, kynge of crowne. The knyght him furthe yede. With him he gan lede The faukon that Libeous wan. To Arthour he him bare, That the kynge sware That Libeous welle warre can: “He hath sende me with honour Of faire bataile foure, Sithe he furst bigan. I wolle him sende tresour For to spende with honour, As fallith for suche a man.” An hundrid pound honest, Of floreynes of the best, He sent to Karlille toune. Sir Libeous made a fest: That furtenyght it lest With grete renowne. At the sixt wokes ende, He toke leve to wynde Of duke, erle, and baroun. Sir Libeous and that may Rode on hare way Toward Synadowne. As he rode bi a lowe, Hornes he hurd blowe And houndis make rebound. The dwarfe seide in a throwe: “This hornys right wel Y knowe, Fer yere ferly falle! Sir Otis hit blewe, de la Ile, That servith my ladi sum while, So semely in hur sale. Whan scho was taken with gile, He flyghe, for drede of perile, West into Wirale.” As thei rode on hare talkyng, Ther come a rache rennyng Overthwart the way. Thei seide, without lesyng, Sith hare first bigynnynge, None say thei never so gay, For he was of alle colours gay Bitwene Midsomer and May. That may seide ful sone: “Y say never none So welle likynge to my pay! Wolde Crist that ich it aught.” Sir Libeous hit caught And gave it maide Elyne. Thei reden furthe, alle soft, And tolde howe knyghtis fought For birdis brighte and schene. Thei rode but a while, The space of a myle, In that forest grene. Thei sawe an hynde come rennyng, And two greyhoundis hir folowyng; The racche bigan to mene. Thei hovyd undir a lynde And sawe the cours of the hynde, Sir Libeous and sho in fere. Than came ther aftir bihynde A knyght yclothid in ynde, Apon a bay destrere. His bugille gan he blowe That his men schulde him knowe In whate stede that he were, And seid: “By Seint Martyne, The racche was onys myne, Nought fully gone a yere! Good frende, lete it go.” Sir Libeous answerid tho: “That schalle it never betide! For with my hondis two Y yave it the damesel me fro, That hovys here biside.” Quod Sir Otis de la Ile: “Thowe puttist thee in perile, Petur!, and thowe abide!” Sir Libeous answerid: “Bi Seint Gile, Y yeve nought of thi wile, Chourle, though thou chide.” Quod Sir Otis de la Ile: “Sir, thi wordis bith right file! Churle nas Y never none! An erle my fadir was sum while; The Cuntas of Karlyle, Certis, scho was my dame. Yef Y were armyd nowe, Redy as art thowe, Forsothe, we schulde fight in same! But thow that racche bileve, Thow pleiest, ar it be eve, A wondir wilde game!” Quod Libeous: “Do thi best! Here Y am alle prest! This racche schall with us wynde, than.” Thei toke the wey west, Into the wilde forest, As the dwarfe hem kende. Sir Otus, with grete errour, Rode home in that schoure, And aftir his frendis gan sende, And tolde ham, anone rightis, One of Arthouris knyghtis Shameliche gan him schende, And his racche had nome. Than seide alle asomme: “That traitour shal be ytake!” Thei seid he schulde be honge, Though he were also stronge As Launcelet de Lake. Thei dighte ham wele, Bothe in iren and in stele, As werre shulde ther wake. Bothe knyghtis and squyars Lepe on hare palfrais, For hare lordis sake. Fer on an hille fulle hye Sir Libeous sone thei sye, Ridinge pace for pace. To him gan thei ride: “Traitour! Thow schalt abide, Today, for this trespace!” Libeous stode and bihilde Howe fulfillid was the filde, So moche folke ther was. He seide to maide Elyne: “For thi racche, Y wyne, Me is come a carefulle cas! Y rede yow withdrawe Undir the wode schawe, Your hede for to hide. Forsothe, for to sayne, Though Y schulde be slayne, Ham alle Y schalle abide.” Into the forest he rode And boldely ther abode, Sir Libeous rode in pride. With bowis and with areblast To him thei schote fast And made him woundis wide. Sir Libeous’ stede so ranne He bare downe hors and man; For no thing wolde he spare! Al the folke seide than: “Here comyth the devil Satan, That makith wilde fire fare!” Whoso Libeous raught, He clevith with his draught, And slowe for evermore. And sone he was bisette, As fischis in a nette, With grevely woundis sore. Twelve knyghtis prest Ther come out of the forest, In armour cler and bright. Al that day thei had yrest And abode in the forest, To sle Libeous that knyght. In armour ther were twelve, That one was Otys himsilve, In ryme to rede aright, That smote to him at onys. Thei thoughten to breken his bonys And sle him in that fight. Then men myght se aright Strokis sadly plight Amonge alle ham in fere. Forsothe, without lesyng, The sparklis out gan spryng Throwe helme and basnet there And four awey gan fle; Thei durst come him no nere. The lord faught in that stoure, And his sonnys fowre, To sille hare lyvys dere. Thei leide on stroks ryve, He alone ayenst fyve; He fought as he were wode. Togadir gan thei dryve, As bene abowte an hyve. Of ham ranne the blode. Whan Sir Libeous was nere spillid, His swarde brake bi the hilt; Than was he mad of mode. The lord a stroke him sette Throwe helme and basnet, That at the skulle withstode. In sownynge he fille downe Over his hors cropoune, As man that was mate. His fomen were bowne To perische his actowne, Throwe helme and basnet plate. Whan he gan sore smert, He plukkid up his hart, And coverid his state; And hent an ax that was him nye That hynge downe bi his thye: Almost, he thought, to late! He sterith him as a knyghte. Hare stedis downe right He slowe at dyntis thre. The lord say that sight, And off his hors alight, And aweyward gan he fle. Sir Libeous no lengir abode, But aftir him rode. Undir a chesteyne tre Ther he had him yquelde, But as the lord him yilde At his wille to be. And bi a certeyne stent, Tresoure, londe, and rent, Castelle, halle, and bowre Ther to Libeous assent, In forward that he went On to Kynge Arthour, And sey: “Lord of renoune, As overcome presoune Y am to thyne honour.” The lord graunt it at his wille, Bothe lowde and stille, And lad him home to his towre. The dworfe and maide Elyne Went with Sir Libeous, Y wene, To Sir Otys’ castelle. Sho and the dworfe bidene Tolde of the dedis kene Of Libeous, howe hit bifelle, And of the presentis fowre That he sende to Kynge Arthoure That he wanne so welle. That suche a doughti knyght His ladi schulde wyn in fight, His ladi feire and hynde. To covery mayne and myght, Furti daies with the knyght Ther than gan he lende, And did him hele his wound, That he was hole and sound. Bi that day six wokis ende, Than Libeous and the may Toke the right way To Synadowne to wynde. That lord, without lettyng, Went to Arthour the kynge, And for prisoner him yelde, And tolde to the kyng Howe aventours knyght yonge Wanne him in filde. Kyng Arthour had good game, And the knyghtis in same, That hurd that tale ytolde, And thei chose for profitable The knyght of the Rounde Table, To fight with spere and schilde. Rest we nowe a while Of Sir Otis de la Ile, And telle we of othir talis. Sir Libeous rode many a myle, In aventuris and in perile, In Cornewaile and in Walis. Hit bifille in the monethe of June, Whan levys and buskis ben grene And flowris in semely sale. The someris day is longe; Mery is thanne the songe Of the nyghtingale. Than that tyme gan Libeous ride Bi a ryveris side, He sie a feire cité With a palice proude in pride, A castelle hie and wide, And gatis grete plenté. He askid whate hit hight. The maide seide, anone right: “Y wol tel to thee. Men clepith hit Il d’Ore. Ther hathe ybe fighting more Than ever was in eny contré. “For a ladi ful of pris — Hir rode is rede as rose on rice — This contrey is al in dowt: A giaunt that hat Maugus, His pere nought yfounde is, He hath bisette hur abowt. He is blakke so eny picche; In al this worlde is him none liche Of dedis so sterne and stout. Whate knyght that passith this brig, His armys must he leg And to him alowty. He is furti fote longe, And also swithe stronge As othir knyghtis fifté. Sir Libeous, bithinke thee With suche one to melle. He is wondir grisly; Eche here of his browyn Is liche the here of a swyn. For it is sothe, wittirly, His armys bith wondir long, And him silve also strong, He sleith al that comyth him by. “And so is he grymly, As Y telle thee, wittirly. He is also grete As is an ox or a kowe, For sothe, as Y sey nowe, Or as grete as eny nete. A carte stife and good, Unnethe, bi the rode, May hir gere lede. He is ful stife and stronge, Ther may no man his dynt dure, For sothe, so bith thei grete.” Quod Libeous: “Maide hynde, My wey wolle Y wynde, For alle his strokis ille. Yif God wol grace sende, Er this day come to ende With fighte Y schalle him spille. Y have ysey grete okys Falle with wynde strokis, In litille stounde fulle stille; Though Y be yonge and lite, To him schalle Y smyte. Lete God do his wille!” Thei rode furthe al thre To that feire cité That men clepith Il d’Ore. Maugus gan thei se, Uppon a brigge of tre, Lokid as a wilde bore, His schilde was blak as picche — Libeous say never none suche — Four mawmetts therin was. For no while he stode, But to Libeous yode And seid to him with wowe: “Turne agayne as tite, For thin owne profite, Yif thowe love thi prowe!” Whan he say Libeous with fight, He seide anone right: “Telle me whate art thowe!” Sir Libeous seid aplight: “Kynge Arthour made me knyght. To him Y made myne avowe That Y ne schulde turne my bak. Therfor, thowe devil so blak, Make thee redy nowe!” Maugus on fote yode, And Libeous rode to him with his stede, For sothe, than, ful right. Lordis and ladies bright, Lay in hare korvelle To biholde that fight. Thei praid to God of His wille, Bothe lowde and stille, To save that Cristen knyght That schulde yeve grace that geaunt, That levyth on Termagaunt, That day schulde dey in fight. Ther hare scheftis brake on sondir, Everi stroke ferde as doundir; The pecis gan out springe. Thei drowe swerdis bothe, As men that weren wrothe, And gan togadir dynge. Everi man had wondur That Libeous nad go undur At the first bigynnyng. Sir Libeous smote Maugus tho That his swerde fille him fro, Without eny lesyng. Maugus cowthe moche quede, And hit Libeous’ stede on the hede, And smote out the brayne. Libeous nothing saide, But stert up on a braide Right ful sone againe. An ax he hent ful sone And hewe bi his nekke bone, And smote to him with mayne, That happid to his schilde. Hit flye fro him into the fielde And fille right into the playne. On fote bothe thei fought. No man bitwene ham myght The strokis bitwene ham two. Depe woundis thei raught, For thei were unsaught, And ever of ham othiris fo. From the owre of the prime Til it was evesonge tyme Of fighting were thei there. Sir Libeous was athursti sore, And seid, “Maugus, thyne ore To drinke thowe leve me go.” “Y schalle graunti thee Whate bone so ever thou axi me, Suche grace may betide. Grete schame it were for thee A knyght for thurst to sle And no more profite.” Maugus graunte it welle For to drink his fille With more delite. Whan Libeous lay on the wateris bank, And throwe his helme he drank, Maugus gan him smyte. Into the ryvere he fille, Armour and everi dele Ywette and evil ydight. Up he stert also snelle And swore bi Seint Michel: “Nowe am Y two so light. Wyndist thow, fyndis fere, Uncristened that Y were? To thee my trewthe Y plight. Y schalle for thi baptise Wel quite thi service Throwe the grace of God Almyght.” Thanne a newe fight bigan, And everi to othir ran, And gave ther dyntis stronge. Many a gentil man And ladies as white as swan For him hare hondis wronge. For Maugus in the filde Clave atwo his schilde, Throwe dyntis of armys longe. Than Libeous ran away Ther Maugus’ schilde lay, And up he gan hit fynge. Than Libeous ran to him agayne And smote to him with mayne. Everi of ham othir gan asaile Unto the day was done; After passid evensonge, The knyghtis hilde bataile. Sir Libeous was werrour wight And gave a stroke of myght Throwe splete, plate, and maile, And throwe his schuldir bone That his right arme, anone, Fille into the filde, sans faile. The giaunt gan to se That he schulde yslayne be. He stode defens agayne. Sir Libeous so to him smote That at the secunde stroke He brake hys bak atwayne. The giaunt ther bilevyd. Libeous smote off his hevyd, Therof he was ful fayne. He bore his hede to towne, With a feire procescioune; The folke come him agayne. [A lady whyt as flowr], That men clepith Diamour, Resceyvyd him fulle welle. The ladi thonkid him with honour That he was her socour Agenst the giaunt felle. Til a chambur scho gan him lede And chaungid ther his wede. In palle sho clothid him welle; Sho proferid him with worde Ever to be hur lord Of cité and castelle. Sir Libeous graunt it in hast And love to hur cast, For sho was bright and schene. Alas, that sho nad be ychastid! For ever, at the latist, Sho dud him trayne and tene. Thre wokis and more Sho made him dwelle thore, And also maide Elyne, That he ne myght out breke To helpe and awreke Of Synadowne the quene. For that feire ladi Cowthe more of sorsery Than othir wicchis fyve. Sho made him melody, With al maner of mynstralsy That eny man cowthe discry. Whan he sawe hur face, He thought that he wace In Paradis alyve. With fantasy and feiry Ever scho blerid his iee, Therfore, evil mote scho thryve! Tille it bifille apon a day He mette Elyne, that feire may, Bi the castelle towre. Til him gan scho say: “Knyght, fals is in thi lay Ayens Kyng Arthour! For love of a woman That moche of sorcery can, Thou dost thee dishonour! My lady of Synadoune May longe ligge in prisoune, That is ful grete dolour!” Whan Libeous hurd hur speke, Him thought his hart wolde breke For that gentil dame. He toke with him his stede, His schilde and his othir wede, And riden furthe in same. That ladiis steward hynde He made with him to wynde: Sir Jeffelot was his name. Thei rode furthe talkyng, And also fast syngyng, Laughe and made good game. Sir Libeous and that may Rode furthe on hare jornay On stedis bay and broune. Til on the thrid day Thei say a cité gay, Men clepith Cinadowne, With a castelle hie and wide, And palys proude in pride, And worke of feire facion. Sir Libeous axkid that feire may Whos was that cité gay, That stode ther in that towne. And scho him tolde anon: “Sir,” sho seid, “bi Seint John, That is my ladyis fre. And in one castelle Woneth a giaunt felle, Forsothe, witturly. His name is clepid Lambert, Of alle this lond is stewart, Sothe, as Y telle thee, And who so comyth to the gate For to axi herborowe therate, Justi with him wol he.” Quod Libeous: “Bi my lewté, That wolde Y blitheli se, For ought that may betide! And be he never so stout, Y schal make him lowte! So schalle Y to him ride; Forthi, maide Elyne, Thowe and the dworf bidene, In the towne ye me abide.” Furthe than the maide rode. The dwarf than nought abode; He rode hur side bi side. Quod Libeous to Jeffelot tite: “To me it were a spite To lete for man on lyve To do Arthuris profite And wynne that lady white. Thedir wolle Y dryve. Sir Jeffelot, make thee yare With me for to fare, Hastely and blithe!” Thei rode furthe algate Right into the castel gate With feire scheftis fyve, And axid ther ostelle Of that feire castelle For two of Arthouris knyghtis. The porter feire and welle Lete ham into the castelle, And axid ham anone right: “Who is your governour?” And thei seid: “Kyng Arthour, Man most of myght. He is kyng of curtesy, chief of chyvalry, Hys foo to fille in fight.” The porter, prestabelle, To his lord the constabille This tale sone he tolde. He seid, without fabulle: “Thei bene of the Rounde Table, Two knyghtis faire and bolde. That one is armyd sure In ful riche armoure, With thre lions of golde.” The lord was glad and blithe, And seide also swithe, With ham justi he wolde. He bade ham make ham yare Into the fielde for to fare Without the castelle gate. The porter wolde nought spare, So as the greyhound aftir the hare, Agen he toke the gate, And seid anone right: “One is come to thee, aventours knyght! For nothing ye ne lete: Loke your schildis be strong And your scheftis longe, Othir els your detheis gete. “And ridith into the fielde; My lord, with spere and schilde. With you he wol play.” Sir Libeous spake wordis bolde: “This wordis bith wel ytolde And likyng to my pay!” Into the fielde thei redyn, And ther boldely abedyn, And went thei nought away. Lambert send aftir his stede, His schilde and othir wede His tyre was ful gay. A schilde he bare, fyne, Thre boris hedis ydentid therinne, Blakke as bround bronde; The bordour was of ermyne. He say never no suche a gyne In londis where he went. Two squyars rode bi his side; Thre scheftis thei bare that tide To dele doughti dynt. He was wondir gay, And also large of pay, In warre and in turnement. Tho that stoute stewart, That hight Sir Lambert, Was yarmyd at al right. He rode to the fieldeward, Prowte as eny Lombard, To abide the fightis. He sie Libeous that tide, And first to him gan ride Whan he him sey with iee. He than to him bare A schefte that was square, As man of moche myght. Everi of ham smote othir in the schild; The pecis fille into the fielde With hare strokis bidene. Everiche man to othir tolde, Bothe yonge and olde: “This yonge knyght is kene!” Lambert his cours out rode, As man that were wode, For ire and ful of tene, And seid: “Bringe me a schefte, And yef he can his crafte, Sone hit schalle be ysene!” Than toke thei scheftis rounde, With hedis sharpe ygrounde, And rode with grete renoune. Thei prekid in that stounde To geven dethis wounde, As egir as eny lyon. Sir Libeous smote Lambert tho That his schilde fille him fro Into the filde adoune. So harde he him hit That he myght nought sitte, Of this was he yboune. His schilde brake with power. And Libeous smote Lambert On his helme so bright, The pesyn, ventaile, and gorgare Fly with the helme in fere. And Lambert, upright, That he sate rokkyng in his sadill As a childe dothe in cradille, Without mayne and myght. Every man toke othir bi the lap, And fast gan with hondis clap, Barons, burgeis, and knyght. Sir Lambert fond to fight bette; A newe helme ther was yfette And scheftis unmete. Every to othir sette Strokis grym and grete. Than the constable, Sir Lambert, Fille over his stede bakwarde, Withouten more bigete. Sir Lambart sware ful sone: “Bi Him that schope sonne and mone, He schalle my lady gete!” Ther Lambard was aschamyd. Quod Libeous: “Be nought agrevyd.” And he answerid: “Nay! For sith that Y was borne, Y say never knyght biforne So strong, bi this day. Bi the thought that my hert is yn, Thou art of Sir Gaweynis kyn, That is so stoute and gay. Thou art ful stoute in fight, And also stronge a knyght, Ful sikir, bi my fay!” “Whate art thou,” seid Libeous tho, “That dothe so mochil wo To the quene of Synadowne? Telle me er thou hens gone Or Y thee telle, bi Seint John, Y schal pare off thi crowne!” The steward answerid and seide: “Sir, be thow nought evil apaide! For scho is my lady: Sho is quene of this lond, And Y hur steward, Y undirstond, Forsothe, sicurly.” Sir Libeous answerid in hast: “Fight Y schalle for that lady chast As Y hight Kyng Arthour! No man schal make me agast, The while the life on me may last, To wynne hur with honour! But Y ne wote wherefore ne whye, Ne who hur dothe vilonie And bringith hur in dolour.” Lambart seid in that stounde: “Welcome knyght of the Tabul Rounde, Bi God, oure Saviour!” Anone, maide Elyne Was ysend bi knyghtis kene Bifore Sir Lambert. Sho and the dwarfe bidene Tolde of the dedis kene That thei had thedirward, And tolde howe Sir Libeous Fought with many aventours And him gevid nothinge. And then were thei al blithe, And thonkid fele sithe Jhesus, Hevyn kynge. Anon with milde chere Thei setten hem to soupere, With mochil gle and game. Libeous and Lambert in fere Of aventouris that thei in were Talkid bothe in same. Sir Libeous seid, withouten fable, To Sir Lambart the constable: “Whate is the knyghtis name That holdith in prison The ladi of Synadon, That is so gentil a dame?” Sir Lambart seid: “Bi Seint John, Knyght, sur, is he none That durste hur awey lede! Two clerkis ben hur fone, Fals of blode and bone, That have ydo that dede. Hit bene men of maistry, Clerkis of nigromansy, Sertis, right to rede. Iran is, than, one brothir, And Mabon is that othir: For ham we bene in drede. “Iran and Mabon Maden an hous of grete name, A place queynte of gynne. Ther nys erle ne baron That had an hart as a lyon That durst come therin. Hit is made bi negromansy, Ywrought it was with feyry, That wondir is to wynne. Therin lieth in prison The ladi of Synadon, Comyn of kyngis kynne. Oft we hire hur crien, But to se hur with ien, Therto have we no myght. Thei dothe hur turmentry And al maner vilony, Bothe bi day and nyght. Thus Mabon and Iran Have swore hare othe serteyne To dethe thei wol hur dight, But scho graunti ham tille To do Mabonis wille, And graunti him alle hur right, “Of alle this lond feire, That my ladi of is eire, To wynne alle with wille. And scho is meke and stille, Forthei we bene in dispeire Lest that thei bring hur in synne!” Quod Libeous Disconious: “Bi the love of swete Jhesus That lady wolle Y wynne! Bothe Mabon and Iran Y schalle hewe in the playne, Hare hedis off bi the chynne!” Ther was no more tale. In the castelle, grete ne smale, But singith and makith ham blithe. Barons and burgeis fale Come to that semely sale For that to listen and lithe Howe that proude steward, That men clepith Sir Lambert, With Libeous his craft gan kithe. Thei fedde ham at sopere And bade ham be blithe of chere, Knyghtis bothe stoute and stithe. Ther than gan thei dwelle In that same castelle Alle that longe night. On morowe Libeous was prest In armour of the best; Ful fresche he was to fight. Sir Lambart lad him to the gate And to the castelle gate, That stode up ful right. Further durste thei nought him bring, Forsothe, withoute lesing, Baron, burgeis, ne knyght, But turnid ham agayne. Sir Geffelot, Libeousis swayne, With him fayne wolde ride. Sir Libeous sware his othe, serteyne, That he schulde Jeffelot slayne, Yef he ther wolde abide. Unto the castel ageyne he rode, And with Sir Lambart ther he bode. To Jhesus fast he cried That he schulde send tithing glad Of him that longe had Thedir ysought fulle wide. Sir Libeous reyght his corcis And rode in to the palys And at the halle alight. Trumpis, pipis, and schalmys He hurde bifore the highe deys And sawe ham with sight. In myddis the halle flore He sawe a fire starke and store, Was light and brenden bryght, And furthe in he yede And ladde with him his stede, That helpith him in fight. Libeous furthe gan pas, Furthe into the plas Ther the fire was in the halle. Somme, of more and las, He ne sye in the plas, But mynstrell clothid in palle, With setoll and with sawtry, And every maner mynstralci. Grete gle thei made alle; Harpe, pipe, and rote, Organs mery of note, Was wrete in that walle. Bi every mynstralle stode A torche, feire and good; Thei were ylightid and brende bright. Sir Libeous in yode, To wite with egir mode, Who schulde with him fyght. He yede abowte into the hall To biholde the pelouris all, That were so feire in sight. Of jasper and of fyne cristall Were thei ywrought alle, That was so moche of myght. The doris was of bras, The wyndowis were of glas, Ywrought with ymagrye. The halle ypeyntid was; In the worlde a feirer nas That ever man sawe with ie. He sette him on the des. The mynstrals were in pece, That weren so stourdy. Torchis that weren so bright, Thei went out anone right — The mynstrals weren away! The dors and the wyndowis al Beten in the halle, As were dyntis of dondur. The stonys in the walle On his hede gan falle; Therof had he wondur! The erthe bigan to quake; The doris bigan to shake, As he sate therundur. The halle rofe also, Him thought it clave a-two As it schulde asoundur! Sir Libeous therof had mervaile And seide, withouten faile: “This is a wondur! Y trowe the devill of helle Be in this castelle And hath here his resting! Though the devil and his dame Come with his brothir in same, To dethe Y schalle him dynge. Y schalle never onis fle, Er that Y se what he be, Aboute this biggyng.” As he sate thus and saide, Him thought he was betraide! Stedis hurde he neye. Than was he betir apaide And to himsilve saide: “Yit Y hopy to play!” As he lokid into the fielde, He sawe with scheft and schilde Men yarmyd twey In right good armour, Was coverid with colour, With golde garlondis gay. Thei come ride into the halle And lowde bigan to calle: “Sir knyght of aventours, Suche a cas ther is bifalle, Yef thow be prowde in palle, Fight ye must with us! Y holde the man of kyn Yef thow that lady wyn That is so precious!” Quod Libeous anone right: “Redy Y am to fight, Bi the love of Jhesus!” Sir Libeous, with good hert, Into his sadulle he stert. A spere on hond he hent. Smertly he rode ham tille, His fomen for to fille; Therto was his talent. Whan thei togadur smote, Everi on othir schildis hit With speris doughti of dynt. Mabon his spere tobarst; Ther of was he sore agast And hilde him schamely schent. And with his sterk fauchon Libeous bare Mabon doun Undir his hors taile, That hors he bare to ground, And Mabon fille that stound Into the filde, sans faile. Nerehond he had be slayne, But than come Iraine, With helme, hauberk, and maile. Ful fresche he was to fight. Sir Libeous, anone right, Thought him for to asaile. Sir Libeous was of him yware, And his spere to him bare, And left his brothir stille. Suche dyntis thei gave thore That hare hauberkis totore, And that likid him ille! Hare speris brake on two; Her swerdis drowe thei tho With hertis grym and grille. Togadir gan thei fight, Every of othir provid har myght Othir for to kille. As thei togadir gan hewe, Mabon, the more schrewe, In the fielde aros. He hurde, and wel knewe, That Iran gave strokis fewe; Therof his hart aros. To him he went ful right To help to falle him in fight, Libeous of gentil los. But Libeous fought with hem bothe As he were wode and wrothe, And kepid him in clos. Whan Iran sawe Mabon, He smote a stroke of male felon To Sir Libeous with ire, That evyn he clave doune, With his swerde broune, Sir Libeousis stedeis swire. Sir Libeous was wondir slighe, And smote a-two his thighe Ther helpid him none armour, His acton ne his charmour. He quitid wel his hire. Libeous of hert was light With Mabon for to fight, In fielde, bothe in fere. Suche strokis gan thei dight, That the fuyre sprang out right Of schilde and helme clere. As thei togadir smette, Hare strokis togadir mette, As ye may lysten and lere. Mabon smote to Libeous blythe And brake Libeous swerde ful swithe A-two quyte and clene. Than was Libeous ful wo For he had lorne so, Forsothe, his good swerde there, And his stede was lame. He had wende to have come with schame To Kyng Arthour, his lorde. To Iran fast he ranne And hent his swerde thanne — Of love ther was no worde! He ranne to Mabon right. Ful fast than gan he fight, As jestours tellith in borde. And ever faught Mabon, As it were a lyon, Sir Libeous for to slo. But Sir Libeous clave adoune His schilde with his fawchoune, That he toke his brothir fro. In right tale it is tolde, His right arme with the schilde Awey he smote also. Than seid Mabon him tille: “Thy strokis bene fulle ille, Gentille knyght, nowe ho! “Y wol me yilde to thee, With bodi and catelle fre, And take alle thee tille. And that lady fre, That is in my posté, Schalle be atte thi wille. For throwe thi swerdis dynt, Myne honde is schent; That wounde wolle me spille. Therfore, thowe savy my life And ever, withouten strife, Y schal be at thi wille.” “Nay,” quod Libeous, “Bi my thrifte, Y wolle right nought of thi gifte, For alle the worlde to wilde Turne thee, yef thowe myght, For Y schalle, as I hight, Hewe thi hed off bi the chynne!” Than Mabon and Sir Libeous Fast togadre hewe. Thei left it for no synne. Sir Libeous was more of myght And clave his helme adoune right, And his hede off bi the chynne. Than Mabon was yslayn, He ranne towarde Iran, With his swerde in fist For to se his brayne, I telle yowe, for certeyne. For to fight more him lust, And whan he come thore, Awey he was ybore, To whiche stede he ne wist. He sought him, for the nonys, Fulle wide in that wonys. On trewthe ful wel he trust. And whan he myght not fynde Iran, He went agen, ful serteyne, And sought ful sore, And seide in dede and thought: “This wolle be dere ybought, That he is fro me yfare, For he wol with sorsery Do me grete turmentry, And that is my most care!” He sate and ful fast he thought Whate he best do mought. Of blys than was he bare! As he sate in the halle, Out of the stone walle A wyndowe feire unfolde. Grete wondir, withalle, In his hert gan falle. He sate and gan biholde A worme ther out gan pas With a womanis face, Yonge and nothing olde. Hur bodi and hur whyngis Shone in alle thingis, As it were betyn golde. Hur taile was unmete; Hur pennys were grym and grete, As ye may lysten and lere. Sir Libeous swat for hete Ther he sate in his sete, As he had be in werre. So sore he was agast, Him thought his hert tobarst As scho nyghid him nere, And ar Sir Libeous it wist, The worme with mouthe him kist And hynge abowte his swire. And aftir that kissing, Of the worme bothe taile and wyng Sone thei fille hur fro. So feire in alle thing Woman, without lesyng, Sawe he never er tho. But scho was al nakid As the clerkis hur makid; Therfore Libeous was wo. Sho seid: “Gentille knyght, God yilde thee thi fight My fomen that thow wolt slo. “Thou hast ysley for sothe Two clerkis that cowthe And wrought bi the fende. Bi northe and bi sowthe, Bi maistry of hare mowthe. Many men thei schende Ever in wo to wynde, Til Y had ykissid Gaweyn, That is ful doughti, serteyne, Othir sum of his kynne. And thowe savedist my lyve, Castels sixty and five Take Y wol thee tille, And mysilve to wife, Stilly, withouten strife Yif it be thi wille.” Libeous was glad and blithe And lepe to hors also swithe And left that lady stille, And sore draddid Iran That he nad nought him slayn; With spere he thought him spille Sir Libeous, that knyght good, Into the sadil he yood To loke aftir Iran. He lokid into a chambir, That was in an hie tour And ther he sawe Iran. He drowe his swerde with myght And smote of his hed aright, For sothe, of Iran than. To the castelle than he rode Ther the folke him abode; To Ihesus gan thei cry. For Libeous to Lambert tolde, And othir knyghtis bolde, This tale ther ful pertly, How Mabon was slayn, And woundid was Iran, Throwe the myght of Marie; That the lady bright Til a dragon was dight Throwe myght of sorserye; And with a cosse of a knyght, Womman scho was aplight, A commely creature. But scho him stode byfore As nakid as scho was bore, And seid: “Nowe am Y sure My fomen thu hast slayn, Mabon and Iran. Therfore God joy thee send!” And whan Sir Libeous in that forward Had ytolde it to Sir Lambard Bothe worde and ende, A robe of purpure pris, Yfurrid wel with grise, He sende hur to bigynnyng. Suche riches and garlondis riche He sende hur preveiliche; A maide ham gan hur bringe. And whan scho was redy dight, Sho went with mayn and myght Til hur owne wonnyng. Than alle the folke of Synadoune With a feire processioune That ladi gan home brynge. Whan scho come to towne, Of golde a precious crowne On hur hed was set. Ther thei were glad and blithe And thonkid God fele sithe That hur balis were bete. Than alle the knyghtis thrytté Send hur homage and fewté, As hit was lawe in lond. And whan thei had this ydone, Thei toke hare leve and went sone, Alle men bowid to hur honde. Seven daies thei made hare sojour With Sur Lambert in the tour And alle the folke in same. Than went thei with honour Unto Kynge Arthour With moche gle and game. Thei thonkid God of his myght, Kynge Arthour and his knyght, That scho had no schame. Arthour, he gave blyve Libeous that may to wyve, That was so gentil a dame. The myrthe of that bridale May no man tel in tale, Ne sey in no gest. In that semely halle Were lordis gret and smalle And ladies ful honest. Ther was wel sertayne Servise fulle good wone, Bothe most and lest. Forsothe, the mynstrals alle That were in the halle Had giftis at that fest. Sir Libeous’ modir so fre Yede to that maungeré. Hur rode was rede so rys. Sho knewe Libeous wel bi sight And wist welle, anone right, That he was of moche pris. Sho went to Sir Gaweyne And seid, withouten delaye: “This is our childe so fre!” That was he glad and blithe And kissid hur fele sithe, And seid: “That likith me!” Sir Gaweyne, knyght of renoune, Seid to the Lady of Synadoune: “Madam, trewliche, He that wanne thee with pride I wanne him bi a forestis side And gate him of a giantis lady.” That ladi was blithe And thonkid him many a sithe And kissid him, sicurly. Than Libeous to him ranne And ever kissid that manne, Forsothe, trewly. He fille on kneis that stound And sate knelyng on the ground, And seid: “For God alle weldond, That made this worlde round, Feire fadir, wel be ye found! Ye blis me with your hond!” The hyndy knyght, Gaweyne, Blessid his sonne with mayne, And made him up to stond. And comaundid knyghtis and swayn To calle Libeous “Gyngelayn,” That was lord of that lond. Forty daies they dwellid there And hare fest thei hilde yfere With Arthour the kyng, As in romaunce it is tolde. Arthour with knyghtis bolde Home he gan ham bryng. Ten yere thei levid in same With moche gle and game, He and that swete thinge. Jhesu Crist our Saviour And His modir, that swete flour, To blys He us alle bryng. Amen. Qui scripcit carmen sit benedictis. Amen.1 Hic explicit Libeus Disconyus. He that lovyth welle to fare Ever to spend and never spare quod More But he have the more good His here wol grow throw his hood2 Hic pennam fixi penitet me si male scripsi.3

(see note); (t-note) Who; (see note) wise; discerning; valiant called; (see note) Begotten (see note) worthy (see note) No one has heard tell of yet kept him protected Armed in any way he was so uncivilized; (see note) without hesitation companions fear of his bad reputation seclusion [her] strong and beloved child fair of face (i.e., handsome) Beautiful Son; (see note) himself was innocent (naive) asked; truly was named by went to play (went hunting) deer In armor; sturdy and splendid rendered harmless took off; (see note) himself dressed when he had done that Immediately; went; (see note) (see note) (see note) youth unknown; (see note) south now; (see note) directly lying (truthfully) truly since I was born I have never before seen so handsome a man youth; (see note) I know not I am all the more naive [for it] meek playfully Beautiful Son; (see note) Saint Denis; (see note) wishes to become a knight Yet knows not what he is named fair of face all together fair and noble James Whatever woman she might be Fair Unknown; (see note) know in an orderly fashion fair one that I acknowledge Certainly, that is what he is to be called right away that very day gave; (see note) (see note) truth (see note) in the plain Techniques; i.e., jousting griffons overlaid with gold request; (see note) generous If I might have the first combat ask your request Whatever the request (see note) further debate washed; dinner; (see note); (t-note) venison noblemen greatly esteemed Enough they had to eat They had not been seated for long time it takes to ride a mile their (see note) (see note) All covered in sweat from the heat was called; (see note) fair; (t-note) lady’s countess nor queen beautiful to look upon peer  (see note) Of ample abundance, and in no way skimpy ermine trim inlaid with gold completely covered destrier (riding horse); (see note) indigo; (see note); (t-note) fashionably dressed; (see note) Such [a] one a sleeveless surcoat; (see note) (see note) hair; (see note); (t-note) His shoes were decorated with gold in a knightly mantle (cope) He did not seem impoverished (see note) He was skilled in courtly entertainments Citole, psaltery; (see note); (t-note) harp, fiddle; stringed instrument gentle maid declare your message to me; (t-note) Now the time has come (t-note) The worst imaginable I do not know of a more grievous case Who; (see note) protection; wise and courageous (see note) (see note) (see note) eager and courageous record (see note) scold; (see note) story will spread your reputation damaged; (see note) To deliver powerful sword strokes powerful knights (t-note) worthy in every tournament in great anger; (t-note) Turned To accomplish a worthy task a quarter of a penny (i.e., worthless) Before Five or three battles; (see note) He must do (t-note) fear of [any] man’s words drawn and quartered once maiden; immediately Your words certainly inspire confidence [To] whoever beholds you You dare not Endure even the wind of a sword [stroke] at that time Dead May be afraid of you nurse at your mother’s breast earn your status there; (t-note) i.e., Christ capable (fit for the task) annoyance and anger; (see note) full of care removed; (see note) together (t-note) (see note) arm him (see note) youth; fittingly the river Jordan; baptized; (see note) eager; (see note) (see note) majestic hall Ywain (see note); (t-note) (see note) tunic; (t-note) shining coat of mail richly constructed both large and small rings Hung about his neck with one griffon; (see note) richly wrought not iron (see note) To protect him in war; (t-note) falchion (deadly sword); (see note) fierce (see note) gracious delay to depart raised; (see note) (t-note) fortune and opportunity liberate that maiden from her bondage proud and noble leapt into [the saddle of] her palfrey; (t-note) constantly (see note) You wretch, you lowborn slave sturdily built reputation (see note) overcome deranged heart; lower ribcage penetrate Said Is that his customary practice Let befall what shall befall how secure he sits in his saddle rode bright of hue (shining) (see note) bright gold Nobly and artfully wrought horse’s harness and trappings; (see note) blows i.e., fair knight; (see note) Whatsoever man rides forth here; (t-note) must (t-note) far to travel far from our friends This maiden and I together escape (t-note) before [As much as] one-eighth of a mile west from here There can be no better resolution Do your best quickly Prepare your lance If you have any skill here; all ready; (t-note) power at that moment deadly spear so securely burst the raised back of his saddle crupper So that faith powerful gone eager furious ever more vigorously vigorously did they deliver blows lying (truly) Burst (sparked) from their helmets struck (see note) at that moment startled with all his strength defended himself valiantly skillful; cunning; (t-note) [William’s] visor; lowered He struck; forcefully At the top of William’s helmet So that Shaved too close [for comfort] (t-note) saw (see note) Let me pass alive (keep on living) villainy cause Weaponless in some locale; (t-note) Unless Before we separate and depart kneel down at once bright sword travel; (see note) (t-note) as your prisoner send according to your custom (see note) Whose lineage is unknown; (t-note) on his knees; (t-note) promised Then he departed Something happened then splendidly arrayed sister’s sons noble proud and noble saw a raging wolf cried out in dismay; (t-note) copiously [Because] of one who is faultless fierce and formidable is called; (see note) overcome has little to learn (t-note) a very beautiful bright [lady]; (see note) one (see note) On his bright sword cease [my journey] against promised well avenged Assuredly against a straw endure before crush; (see note) None [of Lybeaus’s party] knew about this (see note) pace by pace (see note) speak villainy of him far and near (i.e., continuously) their (see note) yield your reputation We will lead [her] back to town (t-note) Against all of you together in splendid array at that moment; (t-note) (t-note) (t-note) backbone; (see note) left him lying crippled saddle laughed; (see note) lost both his strength and might (t-note) spurred Fierce as a vicious lion (see note) a deadly and powerful died on the cross (i.e., Christ) in furor (t-note) deadly sword outer helmet and basinet (inner helmet) struck Lybeaus’s skull (t-note) felt fierce hostility drew Everything he struck he cut through enraged and furious Then said against stood against them courageously at that time (t-note) fell from him witnessed that sight strength or courage secure me your faith (i.e., make an oath) go prisoners governance (t-note) Long before it is night fealty; pledged i.e., to Synadoun as they had [originally] vowed beautiful maiden groves; (t-note) lodge of leaves; (see note); (t-note) bright; polished; (t-note) fair of face [and form] kept awake; (see note) Get you to horse; prepared scent; roast (see note) (see note) seized giants; (see note) (see note) red; loathsome Very ugly; expression The black [giant]; in his arms; (see note) As beautiful as a rose on the briar; (see note) eagerly boar So that someone might hear; (see note) Alas! experienced this day i.e., Christ not be forgotten worthy undertaking prepared his lance for combat skilled in his craft [the art of war] in the right manner [toward his foes] them together (see note) grim; terrible sharply (aggressively) liver, lungs; heart fled rescue together seized her by the hand grove cheerfully (see note); (t-note) defeated vigorously; (see note) an enraged wolf; (see note) fell to the ground As a spark flies from the coal bright sword reward; (see note); (t-note) (t-note) with the wild boar on it (see note) copiously giant [continuously attacked] enraged (see note) in three pieces became distressed Before [the giant] could raise the tree up quickly off (see note); (t-note) Immediately; (see note); (t-note) in the same way (see note); (t-note) many times; (t-note) (t-note) born spoken of far and wide (see note) many times in the past to amuse myself (see note) his companion would have been ruined Had not God sent help [He] who made the entire world May He reward you [He] who bled for us (i.e., Christ) redeemed us with his blood rode; all together tidings as a present; (see note) i.e., was made known publicly noble reputation as a reward; (see note) their as they had promised (see note) formidable and imposing wondrously well constructed (see note) solid; powerful Said fair dwelling place Should anyone have any doubts laughed belongs to defeats and humiliates him lover beautiful woman cry; proclaim; (see note) fairer one; (t-note) gerfalcon as white as a swan; (see note) as his reward if he is unsuccessful cut off far and wide truth There stands; every angle [of the building]; (see note) Michael; (see note) (t-note) twice as beautiful; (see note) Truly, I will bring you yourself (see note); (t-note) a special defense (t-note) Before I pass hence From this place ado (further discussion) (t-note) prepared himself Truly, without lies same (see note) custom (see note); (t-note) any more delay (t-note) just as quickly beautiful; (see note) presence clothes as if she were properly dressed (see note) where shall our contest take place [both] bond (serfs) and free (i.e., everybody) If my beloved is the less beautiful Joust quickly (t-note) noon Carlisle They lifted up their gloves To ratify their agreement (t-note) cease (i.e., rest) (see note) beautiful; fair ready i.e., the Virgin Mary Beautiful in every way Yet even if you were not so radiant (see note) You will not act according; counsel But instead you act as a child someone who would be destroyed; (see note) Let us depart on our way do not confront him; (see note) Be torn apart by wild horses (see note) Hastened herself velvet gray fur neck the crown of her head mounted in gold in the realm maiden Each man [in the crowd] said to the other an elegant lady So beautiful to look upon waited there they saw attendants (see note) sumptuously ornate, I imagine The gold border was ringed with flowers; (t-note) Decorated setting for jewelry; (t-note) rode at hand Upon which was laid the wager (see note) in purple attire from the back and side (i.e., get a good look at her) reddish; (t-note) Decorated with ermine fur Rich; royally band; head enamel red as the rose; complexion hair shone; (t-note) shining bright; (t-note) brows as silk thread; (see note) curved in length; width eyes were gray as glass true; (t-note) neck might [describe fully] Two chairs; the marketplace On which to display their beauty Truly, without lying There was a great difference between them lady (beloved); beautiful a rose in a garden (see note) No more than a washerwoman In her laundry (t-note) You have lost the hawk (the wager) my custom [to lose] I will joust unhorse me head; that falcon According to our agreement Although you may be angry; (see note) There was no further discussion ready in opposition Each fought with the other great hostility (see note) clash of arms fared as thunder their; proclaimed warrior; (see note) lodged bow (stoop) over the back of his horse hardy a warrior Alexander [the Great]; (see note) Lancelot du Lac then powerful determination (valor) both of high rank and low did they see might endure quickly Truly, many times might not succeed against him swiftly was out of his mind; (see note) backbone crack i.e., far and wide beautiful went [with him], lesser [of rank]; greater (see note) (see note) went can battle well (see note) Carlisle; (see note) fortnight festivity sixth week’s depart maiden by a hill answer in reply within a short space I recognize For many years [occurring] often; (see note) (t-note) served my lady [of Synadoun] for a period beautiful in her hall fled, for fear of danger an area in northwest England; (see note) hunting dog; (see note) Across their path saw; colorful (see note) (see note) I never saw [a dog] So appealing to my pleasure By Christ, I wish that I owned it slowly maidens bright and beautiful doe (t-note) hound began to moan waited; linden tree [as well as] she together indigo destrier whatever location That shall never happen Who sits beside me (see note) You are placing yourself in great danger [By Saint] Peter, if you persist care nothing for your cunning [words (or desire)]; (t-note) churl; complain; (see note) are very vile countess; Carlisle mother together Unless you give up that hound You [are about to] play before evening unpredictable (i.e., threatening to yourself) ready for whatever happens go, then guided them in great anger quickly; (see note) told them at once Shamelessly insulted him his hunting dog had seized all together (i.e., in one voice) [Even] though he were as strong; (see note) armed themselves well arise; (t-note) palfreys their lord’s They soon spied Lybeaus at a slow pace pay (do battle) trespass crowded I understand [To] me; a serious situation I advise you to withdraw Under cover of the forest I shall face them all crossbows; (see note) charged so forcefully (see note) makes a destructive conflagration Whomever; struck clove with his blow slew besieged grave wounds knights suddenly; (see note) (t-note) In rhyme to read at once Strokes seriously applied all together fled away; (see note) (see note) sell their lives dearly abundantly (see note) as though he were mad Together they began to assault [him] bees about a hive From them blood ran down exhausted furiously angry stopped just before the skull swooning he fell down the back of his horse vanquished (checkmated) ready pierce his armor; (t-note) (see note) When he felt the pain recovered his strength seized; (t-note) by his thigh too late stirs himself as a knight Their horses With three strokes he killed saw from longer delayed Under a chestnut tree; (see note) he would have killed him Except the lord yielded himself to be entirely within his power according to an agreed-upon assessment Treasure, land, and rent [from land] Castle, hall, and mansion pledge that he go prisoner aloud; silently I think; (t-note) together (see note) noble recover strength and health Forty days dwell Until maiden travel to Synadoun without delay himself adventurous Defeated him in the field was greatly amused; (see note) all together they acclaimed [Lybeaus] accomplished i.e., meanwhile; (see note); (t-note) we will tell of other adventures (see note) bushes; (see note); (t-note) decorate beautiful halls (see note) saw palace splendidly constructed castle high many gates immediately (see note) (see note) nobility (worth) Her complexion; red as a rose on the stem in fear (see note); (t-note) blocked all passage to her pitch, tar none like him bridge He must surrender his arms bow down to him forty feet in length; (see note) fifty other knights; (t-note) reconsider what you are doing meddle hair; eyebrows hair; swine true indeed (see note) truly ox Scarcely, by the cross carry his equipment endure Gracious maiden Despite kill seen; oak trees blasts of wind In a short time [they] lay low [relatively] little the Golden Isle; (see note) On a wooden bridge wild boar pagan idols; (see note) malevolently at once care for well-being ready to fight quickly (see note) truly (t-note) (see note) then towers with ornamental ledges aloud; silently believes in [a false god]; (see note) sounded like thunder pieces strike blows together had not been killed his [i.e., Lybeaus’s] sword; (see note) knew much about evil (see note) in a moment again (see note) (t-note) with strength struck his shield so that it flew from him could [count the number of] received furious in combat each of them the other’s foe hour of prime (between 6:00 and 9:00 AM); (see note) evensong (i.e., vespers) (t-note) extremely thirsty [may I have] your permission; (see note) Whatever request Such grace [as] may be required [of me] accomplishment pleasure every bit Soaked and in bad condition (t-note) twice as keen Did you think, companion of fiends Unbaptized pledge; vow for your baptism [of me]; (see note) Well reward each to the other ran With the strokes of his long arms To where seized Each of them began to assail the other; (t-note) Until it grew dark past evensong; (t-note) a strong warrior metal reinforcements; chain mail at once truly; (t-note) (see note) died off; head he was happy to do it came to meet him (t-note) (see note) rescuer fierce giant To a chamber helped him change his clothes fine cloth offered her lord in haste; (see note) fair; beautiful; (see note) had not been reformed (i.e., chaste) in the final analysis treason; wrong weeks; (see note) there break out avenge Knew more about witches; (see note); (t-note) anyone could describe was fairy magic blinded him may she have misfortune upon maiden; (see note); (t-note) To him your allegiance To knows much sorcery You dishonor yourself lie a great tragedy other equipment together gracious steward travel with him (see note) maiden (t-note) palace splendid in structure beautiful architecture asked (t-note) noble lady’s [castle] Dwells; (see note) (see note) request [safe] harbor Joust with him he will On my honor blithely (willingly) see Whatever the outcome formidable submit Therefore together wait for me did not delay without hesitation an insult To hinder any man alive To increase Arthur’s honor And [fail to] deliver that beautiful lady ready hastily; at once straightaway the gate of the castle five superb lances [ready] asked; hostel, accommodation; (see note) (t-note) asked (see note) defeat his foe in battle eager to serve; (see note); (t-note) (see note) just as quickly He would joust with them ready Outside (see note); (t-note) adventurous knight neglect nothing Or else receive your deaths These words are well spoken satisfying to me rode waited trappings attire; very splendid (see note) inlaid a branch darkened by fire splendid device at that time strong strokes splendid generous Then; princely at all points (completely) (see note) await the combat saw; then eye squared pieces both their strokes valiant rode his courser out of the field out of his mind anger; rage if he knows his craft [of jousting] seen points power; (t-note) they drove their horses hard in order to deliver a mortal wound; (t-note) fierce (t-note) prepared (i.e., he did not fall from his saddle) collar; neckpiece; (t-note) Flew with the helmet together (see note) Senseless and without strength by his garment citizens, burghers tried; better extraordinarily large; (see note) Each to the other set With no further gain created (see note) (see note) saw (see note) Most certainly, by my faith then create such suffering cut off the top of your head displeased Truly, indeed at once promised frightened harm sent for together on the way here he surrendered (yielded) content many times (see note) together; (t-note) together foes of special knowledge Clerks of black magic (sorcery); (see note) Certainly, to counsel truly (see note); (t-note) (see note) ingeniously devised is not fairy (magic) marvelously difficult; penetrate king’s lineage; (see note) hear to see her with our eyes inflict pain on her sworn their secure oath To inflict death upon her Unless; grants to them grant him all her rights Of which my lady is heiress get it all with force of will meek; quiet Therefore Lest they bring her in sin; (see note); (t-note) rescue off by the chin both those of rank and those below merry; (t-note) many noble dwelling listen; be attentive skill at arms made known strong prepared (t-note) i.e., to the city gate i.e., the gate of the enchanted castle servant (t-note) Would eagerly ride with him if he continued [with Lybeaus] further [Jeffelot] glad tidings arranged his corselet (breastplate); (see note) Trumpets, pipes, and shawms high dais powerful (blazing) and large brilliant; burned bright steed no one of greater or lesser rank clothed in fine cloths; (see note) citole; psaltry kind of minstrelsy rote (like a harp) merry witnessed i.e., proceeded further To discover eagerly pillars (see note) there was no fairer eye dais silent so loud [before] claps of thunder (see note) roof split and collapse (see note) I believe [that] his residence kill him once (i.e., never ever); (t-note) building sat Steeds; neigh satisfied hope to Two armed men splendid gold garlands adventures If; splendid in rich clothing I consider the man to be my kinsman foeman That was his desire Each man hit the other’s shield extremely astonished shamefully disgraced mighty sword at that time, then truly; (t-note) Nearly then their chain mail split open they did not like that They drew their swords then grim; fierce tested their strength; (t-note) greater rogue he swelled in anger To help [Iran] kill him [Lybeaus] of noble fame crazed; furious kept himself protected evil treachery even struck down at bright sword The neck of Lybeaus’s steed very skillful protective jacket nor his sorcery; (see note) [Lybeaus] acquitted himself well keen both together They delivered such strokes fire listen; learn; (t-note) quickly at once lost disabled; (t-note) expected seized then recite as entertainment (i.e., in romance) In order to slay thrust down falchion i.e., Iran cease both my person and noble possessions take all to yourself gentle lady in my power will be at your will (i.e., in your power) ruined destroy (kill) me spare my life By my good fortune I do not want any part of to wield (i.e., rule or possess) promised (t-note) traded blows They did not cease for any cause his (Mabon’s) (see note) expose his brains he wanted to continue the fight he [Iran] had vanished what place he did not know Throughout the dwelling trusted to fulfill his oath has escaped me great harm What he might best do He was entirely devoid of happiness then opened arose sat; beheld dragon to emerge; (see note) (see note) beaten gold extremely large wings sweated from the heat in full combat would burst approached him before; knew dragon; (see note) embraced him around the neck (see note) Immediately fell from her distressed reward your fight In which you desired to slay my foes You have truly slain who knew [much sorcery] performed [their magic] through the devil By the power of their words destroyed; (see note); (t-note) To live ever in woe most excellent or someone of his kin; (see note) Because you saved my life sixty-five I wish to give them to you [Along] with myself to wed Silently, without protest very much feared Iran He sought to kill him with a spear went seek; (see note) in a high tower; (see note) i.e., Lambert’s castle awaited his return publicly; (t-note) Into the form of a dragon was transformed kiss She became a woman truly (see note) in that message valuable purple fabric; (t-note) Edged well with gray fur headpieces of gold ready and dressed with her retinue dwelling (t-note) many times misfortunes were overturned [her] thirty knights homage; fealty took their leave; departed soon days they; their sojourn together [the Lady of Synadoun] had no disgrace eagerly; (see note) maiden [the Lady of Synadoun]; marry Nor describe in any romance i.e., of all ranks, high and low most noble ladies Food; in great abundance nobility and commoners mother so noble; (see note) Went to that feast Her complexion; as red as a rose (t-note) many times I am very pleased renown won you sired begot many a time truly man at once all-wielding (i.e., all-ruling) gracious heartily knights; squires together years; together; (see note) i.e., the Lady of Synadoun (see note) (see note) Here ends Libeus Disconyus; (see note) (see note) declares More [the scribe]; (t-note) increasing material wealth (see note)