FOOTNOTES:[2][Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. pp. 301-311.][3][knew.][4]Ver. 7. branches, MS.[5][ornamented.][6][bid.][7]V. 18. heate, MS.[8][probably a pouch or bag, but there is no authority for the word.][9]Ver. 21. potewer, MS.[10]V. 32. his wiffe, MS.[11]V. 34. biled, MS.[12][red.][13]V. 41. gaule, MS.[14][light blue or woad coloured.][15][colour.][16][ruddy.][17][began.][18][fuller.][19][Ver. 72. all above the buttockes, MS.][20]V. 75. lauged, MS.[21][began.][22][draw close together, another form ofcrowd.][23]Ver. 134. wright, MS.[24]V. 136. cleare, MS.[25][forthwith.][26]Ver. 140. by deene, MS.[27][V. 151. a little boy, MS.][28][V. 152. looking over.][29][V. 155-6. these two lines belong to the former stanza.][30]Ver. 170. them upon, MS.[31][carved.][32]V. 175.orbirtled, MS.[33][shed.]
[2][Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. pp. 301-311.]
[2][Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. pp. 301-311.]
[3][knew.]
[3][knew.]
[4]Ver. 7. branches, MS.
[4]Ver. 7. branches, MS.
[5][ornamented.]
[5][ornamented.]
[6][bid.]
[6][bid.]
[7]V. 18. heate, MS.
[7]V. 18. heate, MS.
[8][probably a pouch or bag, but there is no authority for the word.]
[8][probably a pouch or bag, but there is no authority for the word.]
[9]Ver. 21. potewer, MS.
[9]Ver. 21. potewer, MS.
[10]V. 32. his wiffe, MS.
[10]V. 32. his wiffe, MS.
[11]V. 34. biled, MS.
[11]V. 34. biled, MS.
[12][red.]
[12][red.]
[13]V. 41. gaule, MS.
[13]V. 41. gaule, MS.
[14][light blue or woad coloured.]
[14][light blue or woad coloured.]
[15][colour.]
[15][colour.]
[16][ruddy.]
[16][ruddy.]
[17][began.]
[17][began.]
[18][fuller.]
[18][fuller.]
[19][Ver. 72. all above the buttockes, MS.]
[19][Ver. 72. all above the buttockes, MS.]
[20]V. 75. lauged, MS.
[20]V. 75. lauged, MS.
[21][began.]
[21][began.]
[22][draw close together, another form ofcrowd.]
[22][draw close together, another form ofcrowd.]
[23]Ver. 134. wright, MS.
[23]Ver. 134. wright, MS.
[24]V. 136. cleare, MS.
[24]V. 136. cleare, MS.
[25][forthwith.]
[25][forthwith.]
[26]Ver. 140. by deene, MS.
[26]Ver. 140. by deene, MS.
[27][V. 151. a little boy, MS.]
[27][V. 151. a little boy, MS.]
[28][V. 152. looking over.]
[28][V. 152. looking over.]
[29][V. 155-6. these two lines belong to the former stanza.]
[29][V. 155-6. these two lines belong to the former stanza.]
[30]Ver. 170. them upon, MS.
[30]Ver. 170. them upon, MS.
[31][carved.]
[31][carved.]
[32]V. 175.orbirtled, MS.
[32]V. 175.orbirtled, MS.
[33][shed.]
[33][shed.]
Ischiefly taken from the fragment of an old ballad in the Editor's MS., which he has reason to believe more ancient than the time ofChaucer, and what furnished that bard with hisWife of Bath's Tale. The original was so extremely mutilated, half of every leaf being torn away, that without large supplements, &c. it was deemed improper for this collection: these it has therefore received, such as they are. They are not here particularly pointed out, because theFragmentitself will now be found printed at the end of this volume.
[Sir Frederic Madden supposed this ballad to be founded upon theWeddynge of Syr Gawen and Dame Ragnell, which he printed from the Rawlinson MS. c. 86, fol. 128 b, in hisSyr Gawaine.Mr. Hales writes as follows respecting the various forms in which the story appears in literature. "The wonderful 'metamorphosis' on which this story turns is narrated in Gower'sConfessio Amantis, as the story of Florent and the King of Sicily's Daughter, taken by him, as Tyrwhitt conjectures, from theGesta Romanorum, or some such collection. It appears again, as the reader will remember, in Chaucer'sWyf of Bathes Tale. 'Worked over,' says Prof. Child, 'by some ballad-monger of the sixteenth century, and of course reduced to ditch-water, this tale has found its way into theCrownGarland of Golden Roses, part i. p. 68 (Percy Society, vol. vi.), 'Of a Knight and a Faire Virgin.' On a similar transformation depends the story of 'King Henrie' in Scott'sMinstrelsy, edited from Mrs. Brown's MS., with corrections from a recited fragment, and modernized as 'Courteous King Jamie' in Lewis'sTales of Wonder. 'The prime original,' says Scott, 'is to be found in an Icelandic Saga.'"[34]Mr. Child prints (English and Scottish Ballads, vol. viii. p. 139) two versions of a Scotch ballad entitledKempy Kaye, which he supposes to be an extravagant parody ofThe Marriage of SirGawaine.]
[Sir Frederic Madden supposed this ballad to be founded upon theWeddynge of Syr Gawen and Dame Ragnell, which he printed from the Rawlinson MS. c. 86, fol. 128 b, in hisSyr Gawaine.
Mr. Hales writes as follows respecting the various forms in which the story appears in literature. "The wonderful 'metamorphosis' on which this story turns is narrated in Gower'sConfessio Amantis, as the story of Florent and the King of Sicily's Daughter, taken by him, as Tyrwhitt conjectures, from theGesta Romanorum, or some such collection. It appears again, as the reader will remember, in Chaucer'sWyf of Bathes Tale. 'Worked over,' says Prof. Child, 'by some ballad-monger of the sixteenth century, and of course reduced to ditch-water, this tale has found its way into theCrownGarland of Golden Roses, part i. p. 68 (Percy Society, vol. vi.), 'Of a Knight and a Faire Virgin.' On a similar transformation depends the story of 'King Henrie' in Scott'sMinstrelsy, edited from Mrs. Brown's MS., with corrections from a recited fragment, and modernized as 'Courteous King Jamie' in Lewis'sTales of Wonder. 'The prime original,' says Scott, 'is to be found in an Icelandic Saga.'"[34]
Mr. Child prints (English and Scottish Ballads, vol. viii. p. 139) two versions of a Scotch ballad entitledKempy Kaye, which he supposes to be an extravagant parody ofThe Marriage of SirGawaine.]
King Arthur lives in merry Carleile,And seemely is to see;And there with him queene Guenever,That bride soe bright of blee.[35]And there with him queene Guenever,5That bride so bright in bowre:And all his barons about him stoode,That were both stiffe and stowre.[36]The king a royale Christmasse kept,With mirth and princelye cheare;10To him repaired many a knighte,That came both farre and neare.And when they were to dinner sette,And cups went freely round;Before them came a faire damsèlle,15And knelt upon the ground.A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthùre,I beg a boone of thee;Avenge me of a carlish knighte,Who hath shent[37]my love and mee.20At Tearne-Wadling[38]his castle stands,Near to that lake so fair,And proudlye rise the battlements,And streamers deck the air.Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay,25May pass that castle-walle:But from that foule discurteous knighte,Mishappe will them befalle.Hee's twyce the size of common men,Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge,30And on his backe he bears a clubbe,That is both thicke and longe.This grimme baròne 'twas our harde happe,But yester morne to see;When to his bowre he bare my love,35And sore misused mee.And when I told him, king ArthùreAs lyttle shold him spare;Goe tell, sayd hee, that cuckold kinge,To meete mee if he dare.40Upp then sterted king Arthùre,And sware by hille and dale,He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme baròne,Till he had made him quail.Goe fetch my sword Excalibar:45Goe saddle mee my steede;Nowe, by my faye, that grimme baròneShall rue this ruthfulle deede.And when he came to Tearne WadlingeBenethe the castle walle:50"Come forth; come forth; thou proude baròne,Or yielde thyself my thralle."On magicke grounde that castle stoode,And fenc'd with many a spelle:Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon,55But straite his courage felle.Forth then rush'd that carlish[39]knight,King Arthur felte the charme:His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,Downe sunke his feeble arme.60Nowe yield thee, yield thee, kinge Arthùre,Now yield thee, unto mee:Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande,Noe better termes maye bee,Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood,65And promise on thy faye,Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling,Upon the new-yeare's daye;And bringe me worde what thing it isAll women moste desyre;70This is thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes,He have noe other hyre.King Arthur then helde up his hande,And sware upon his faye,[40]Then tooke his leave of the grimme barone75And faste hee rode awaye.And he rode east, and he rode west,And did of all inquyre,What thing it is all women crave,And what they most desyre.80Some told him riches, pompe, or state;Some rayment fine and brighte;Some told him mirthe; some flatterye;And some a jollye knighte.In letters all king Arthur wrote,85And seal'd them with his ringe:But still his minde was helde in doubte,Each tolde a different thinge.As ruthfulle he rode over a more,He saw a ladye sette90Betweene an oke, and a greene holléye,All clad in red[41]scarlette.Her nose was crookt and turnd outwàrde,Her chin stoode all awrye;And where as sholde have been her mouthe,95Lo! there was set her eye:Her haires, like serpents, clung abouteHer cheekes of deadlye hewe:A worse-form'd ladye than she was,No man mote ever viewe.100To hail the king in seemelye sorteThis ladye was fulle faine;But king Arthùre all sore amaz'd,No aunswere made againe.What wight art thou, the ladye sayd,105That wilt not speake to mee;Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine,Though I be foule to see.If thou wilt ease my paine, he sayd,And helpe me in my neede;110Ask what thou wilt, thou grimme ladyè,And it shall bee thy meede.O sweare mee this upon the roode,And promise on thy faye;And here the secrette I will telle,115That shall thy ransome paye.King Arthur promis'd on his faye,And sware upon the roode;The secrette then the ladye told,As lightlye well shee cou'de.120Now this shall be my paye, sir king,And this my guerdon bee,That some yong fair and courtlye knight,Thou bringe to marrye mee.Fast then pricked king Arthùre125Ore hille, and dale, and downe:And soone he founde the barone's bowre:And soone the grimme baroùne.He bare his clubbe upon his backe,Hee stoode bothe stiffe and stronge;130And, when he had the letters reade,Awaye the lettres flunge.Nowe yielde thee, Arthur, and thy lands,All forfeit unto mee;For this is not thy paye, sir king,135Nor may thy ransome bee.Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baròne,I praye thee hold thy hand;And give mee leave to speake once moreIn reskewe of my land.140This morne, as I came over a more,I saw a ladye setteBetwene an oke, and a greene hollèye,All clad in red scarlètte.Shee sayes, all women will have their wille,145This is their chief desyre;Now yield, as thou art a barone true,That I have payd mine hyre.An earlye vengeaunce light on her!The carlish baron swore:150Shee was my sister tolde thee this,And shee's a mishapen whore.But here I will make mine avowe,To do her as ill a turne:For an ever I may that foule theefe gette,155In a fyre I will her burne.
King Arthur lives in merry Carleile,And seemely is to see;And there with him queene Guenever,That bride soe bright of blee.[35]
And there with him queene Guenever,5That bride so bright in bowre:And all his barons about him stoode,That were both stiffe and stowre.[36]
The king a royale Christmasse kept,With mirth and princelye cheare;10To him repaired many a knighte,That came both farre and neare.
And when they were to dinner sette,And cups went freely round;Before them came a faire damsèlle,15And knelt upon the ground.
A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthùre,I beg a boone of thee;Avenge me of a carlish knighte,Who hath shent[37]my love and mee.20
At Tearne-Wadling[38]his castle stands,Near to that lake so fair,And proudlye rise the battlements,And streamers deck the air.
Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay,25May pass that castle-walle:But from that foule discurteous knighte,Mishappe will them befalle.
Hee's twyce the size of common men,Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge,30And on his backe he bears a clubbe,That is both thicke and longe.
This grimme baròne 'twas our harde happe,But yester morne to see;When to his bowre he bare my love,35And sore misused mee.
And when I told him, king ArthùreAs lyttle shold him spare;Goe tell, sayd hee, that cuckold kinge,To meete mee if he dare.40
Upp then sterted king Arthùre,And sware by hille and dale,He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme baròne,Till he had made him quail.
Goe fetch my sword Excalibar:45Goe saddle mee my steede;Nowe, by my faye, that grimme baròneShall rue this ruthfulle deede.
And when he came to Tearne WadlingeBenethe the castle walle:50"Come forth; come forth; thou proude baròne,Or yielde thyself my thralle."
On magicke grounde that castle stoode,And fenc'd with many a spelle:Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon,55But straite his courage felle.
Forth then rush'd that carlish[39]knight,King Arthur felte the charme:His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,Downe sunke his feeble arme.60
Nowe yield thee, yield thee, kinge Arthùre,Now yield thee, unto mee:Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande,Noe better termes maye bee,
Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood,65And promise on thy faye,Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling,Upon the new-yeare's daye;
And bringe me worde what thing it isAll women moste desyre;70This is thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes,He have noe other hyre.
King Arthur then helde up his hande,And sware upon his faye,[40]Then tooke his leave of the grimme barone75And faste hee rode awaye.
And he rode east, and he rode west,And did of all inquyre,What thing it is all women crave,And what they most desyre.80
Some told him riches, pompe, or state;Some rayment fine and brighte;Some told him mirthe; some flatterye;And some a jollye knighte.
In letters all king Arthur wrote,85And seal'd them with his ringe:But still his minde was helde in doubte,Each tolde a different thinge.
As ruthfulle he rode over a more,He saw a ladye sette90Betweene an oke, and a greene holléye,All clad in red[41]scarlette.
Her nose was crookt and turnd outwàrde,Her chin stoode all awrye;And where as sholde have been her mouthe,95Lo! there was set her eye:
Her haires, like serpents, clung abouteHer cheekes of deadlye hewe:A worse-form'd ladye than she was,No man mote ever viewe.100
To hail the king in seemelye sorteThis ladye was fulle faine;But king Arthùre all sore amaz'd,No aunswere made againe.
What wight art thou, the ladye sayd,105That wilt not speake to mee;Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine,Though I be foule to see.
If thou wilt ease my paine, he sayd,And helpe me in my neede;110Ask what thou wilt, thou grimme ladyè,And it shall bee thy meede.
O sweare mee this upon the roode,And promise on thy faye;And here the secrette I will telle,115That shall thy ransome paye.
King Arthur promis'd on his faye,And sware upon the roode;The secrette then the ladye told,As lightlye well shee cou'de.120
Now this shall be my paye, sir king,And this my guerdon bee,That some yong fair and courtlye knight,Thou bringe to marrye mee.
Fast then pricked king Arthùre125Ore hille, and dale, and downe:And soone he founde the barone's bowre:And soone the grimme baroùne.
He bare his clubbe upon his backe,Hee stoode bothe stiffe and stronge;130And, when he had the letters reade,Awaye the lettres flunge.
Nowe yielde thee, Arthur, and thy lands,All forfeit unto mee;For this is not thy paye, sir king,135Nor may thy ransome bee.
Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baròne,I praye thee hold thy hand;And give mee leave to speake once moreIn reskewe of my land.140
This morne, as I came over a more,I saw a ladye setteBetwene an oke, and a greene hollèye,All clad in red scarlètte.
Shee sayes, all women will have their wille,145This is their chief desyre;Now yield, as thou art a barone true,That I have payd mine hyre.
An earlye vengeaunce light on her!The carlish baron swore:150Shee was my sister tolde thee this,And shee's a mishapen whore.
But here I will make mine avowe,To do her as ill a turne:For an ever I may that foule theefe gette,155In a fyre I will her burne.
Homewarde pricked king Arthùre,And a wearye man was hee;And soone he mette queene Guenever,That bride so bright of blee.What newes! what newes! thou noble king,5Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped?Where hast thou hung the carlish knighte?And where bestow'd his head?The carlish knight is safe for mee,And free fro mortal harme:10On magicke grounde his castle stands,And fenc'd with many a charme.To bowe to him I was fulle faine,And yielde mee to his hand:And but for a lothly ladye, there15I sholde have lost my land.And nowe this fills my hearte with woe,And sorrowe of my life;I swore a yonge and courtlye knight,Sholde marry her to his wife.20Then bespake him sir Gawàine,That was ever a gentle knighte:That lothly ladye I will wed;Therefore be merrye and lighte.Nowe naye, nowe naye, good sir Gawàine;25My sister's sonne yee bee;This lothlye ladye's all too grimme,And all too foule for yee.Her nose is crookt and turn'd outwàrde;Her chin stands all awrye;30A worse form'd ladye than shee isWas never seen with eye.What though her chin stand all awrye.And shee be foule to see:I'll marry her, unkle, for thy sake,35And I'll thy ransome bee.Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawàine;And a blessing thee betyde!To-morrow wee'll have knights and squires,And wee'll goe fetch thy bride.40And wee'll have hawkes and wee'll have houndes,To cover our intent;And wee'll away to the greene forèst,As wee a hunting went.Sir Lancelot, sir Stephen[42]bolde,45They rode with them that daye;And foremoste of the companyeThere rode the stewarde Kaye:Soe did sir Banier[43]and sir Bore,[44]And eke sir Garratte[45]keene;50Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight,To the forest freshe and greene.And when they came to the greene forrèst,Beneathe a faire holley treeThere sate that ladye in red scarlètte55That unseemelye was to see.Sir Kay beheld that lady's face,And looked upon her sweere;[46]Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes,Of his kisse he stands in feare.60Sir Kay beheld that ladye againe,And looked upon her snout;Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes,Of his kisse he stands in doubt.Peace, brother Kay, sayde sir Gawàine,65And amend thee of thy life:For there is a knight amongst us all,Must marry her to his wife.What marry this foule queane, quoth Kay,I' the devil's name anone;70Gett mee a wife wherever I maye,In sooth shee shall be none.Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste,And some took up their houndes;And sayd they wolde not marry her,75For cities, nor for townes.Then bespake him king Arthùre,And sware there by this daye;For a little foule sighte and mislikìnge,Yee shall not say her naye.80Peace, lordings, peace; sir Gawaine sayd;Nor make debate and strife;This lothlye ladye I will take,And marry her to my wife.Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine,85And a blessinge be thy meede!For as I am thine owne ladyè,Thou never shalt rue this deede.Then up they took that lothly dame,And home anone they bringe:90And there sir Gawaine he her wed,And married her with a ringe.And when they were in wed-bed laid,And all were done awaye:"Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord95Come turne to mee I praye."Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,For sorrowe and for care;When, lo! instead of that lothelye dame,Hee sawe a young ladye faire.100Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke,Her eyen were blacke as sloe:The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe,And all her necke was snowe.Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady faire,105Lying upon the sheete:And swore, as he was a true knighte,The spice was never soe sweete.Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady brighte,Lying there by his side:110"The fairest flower is not soe faire:Thou never can'st bee my bride."I am thy bride, mine owne deare lorde,The same whiche thou didst knowe,That was soe lothlye, and was wont115Upon the wild more to goe.Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse, quoth shee,And make thy choice with care;Whether by night, or else by daye,Shall I be foule or faire?120"To have thee foule still in the night,When I with thee should playe!I had rather farre, my lady deare,To have thee foule by daye."What when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes125To drinke the ale and wine;Alas! then I must hide myself,I must not goe with mine?"My faire ladyè, sir Gawaine sayd,I yield me to thy skille;130Because thou art mine owne ladyèThou shalt have all thy wille."Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gawàine,And the daye that I thee see;For as thou seest mee at this time,135Soe shall I ever bee.My father was an aged knighte,And yet it chanced soe,He tooke to wife a false ladyè,Whiche broughte me to this woe.140Shee witch'd mee, being a faire yonge maide,In the greene forèst to dwelle;And there to abide in lothlye shape,Most like a fiend of helle.Midst mores and mosses; woods, and wilds;145To lead a lonesome life:Till some yong faire and courtlye knighteWolde marrye me to his wife:Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape,Such was her devilish skille;150Until he wolde yielde to be rul'd by mee,And let mee have all my wille.She witchd my brother to a carlish boore,And made him stiffe and stronge;And built him a bowre on magicke grounde,155To live by rapine and wronge.But now the spelle is broken throughe,And wronge is turnde to righte;Henceforth I shall bee a faire ladyè,And hee be a gentle knighte.160
Homewarde pricked king Arthùre,And a wearye man was hee;And soone he mette queene Guenever,That bride so bright of blee.
What newes! what newes! thou noble king,5Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped?Where hast thou hung the carlish knighte?And where bestow'd his head?
The carlish knight is safe for mee,And free fro mortal harme:10On magicke grounde his castle stands,And fenc'd with many a charme.
To bowe to him I was fulle faine,And yielde mee to his hand:And but for a lothly ladye, there15I sholde have lost my land.
And nowe this fills my hearte with woe,And sorrowe of my life;I swore a yonge and courtlye knight,Sholde marry her to his wife.20
Then bespake him sir Gawàine,That was ever a gentle knighte:That lothly ladye I will wed;Therefore be merrye and lighte.
Nowe naye, nowe naye, good sir Gawàine;25My sister's sonne yee bee;This lothlye ladye's all too grimme,And all too foule for yee.
Her nose is crookt and turn'd outwàrde;Her chin stands all awrye;30A worse form'd ladye than shee isWas never seen with eye.
What though her chin stand all awrye.And shee be foule to see:I'll marry her, unkle, for thy sake,35And I'll thy ransome bee.
Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawàine;And a blessing thee betyde!To-morrow wee'll have knights and squires,And wee'll goe fetch thy bride.40
And wee'll have hawkes and wee'll have houndes,To cover our intent;And wee'll away to the greene forèst,As wee a hunting went.
Sir Lancelot, sir Stephen[42]bolde,45They rode with them that daye;And foremoste of the companyeThere rode the stewarde Kaye:
Soe did sir Banier[43]and sir Bore,[44]And eke sir Garratte[45]keene;50Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight,To the forest freshe and greene.
And when they came to the greene forrèst,Beneathe a faire holley treeThere sate that ladye in red scarlètte55That unseemelye was to see.
Sir Kay beheld that lady's face,And looked upon her sweere;[46]Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes,Of his kisse he stands in feare.60
Sir Kay beheld that ladye againe,And looked upon her snout;Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes,Of his kisse he stands in doubt.
Peace, brother Kay, sayde sir Gawàine,65And amend thee of thy life:For there is a knight amongst us all,Must marry her to his wife.
What marry this foule queane, quoth Kay,I' the devil's name anone;70Gett mee a wife wherever I maye,In sooth shee shall be none.
Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste,And some took up their houndes;And sayd they wolde not marry her,75For cities, nor for townes.
Then bespake him king Arthùre,And sware there by this daye;For a little foule sighte and mislikìnge,Yee shall not say her naye.80
Peace, lordings, peace; sir Gawaine sayd;Nor make debate and strife;This lothlye ladye I will take,And marry her to my wife.
Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine,85And a blessinge be thy meede!For as I am thine owne ladyè,Thou never shalt rue this deede.
Then up they took that lothly dame,And home anone they bringe:90And there sir Gawaine he her wed,And married her with a ringe.
And when they were in wed-bed laid,And all were done awaye:"Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord95Come turne to mee I praye."
Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,For sorrowe and for care;When, lo! instead of that lothelye dame,Hee sawe a young ladye faire.100
Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke,Her eyen were blacke as sloe:The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe,And all her necke was snowe.
Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady faire,105Lying upon the sheete:And swore, as he was a true knighte,The spice was never soe sweete.
Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady brighte,Lying there by his side:110"The fairest flower is not soe faire:Thou never can'st bee my bride."
I am thy bride, mine owne deare lorde,The same whiche thou didst knowe,That was soe lothlye, and was wont115Upon the wild more to goe.
Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse, quoth shee,And make thy choice with care;Whether by night, or else by daye,Shall I be foule or faire?120
"To have thee foule still in the night,When I with thee should playe!I had rather farre, my lady deare,To have thee foule by daye."
What when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes125To drinke the ale and wine;Alas! then I must hide myself,I must not goe with mine?
"My faire ladyè, sir Gawaine sayd,I yield me to thy skille;130Because thou art mine owne ladyèThou shalt have all thy wille."
Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gawàine,And the daye that I thee see;For as thou seest mee at this time,135Soe shall I ever bee.
My father was an aged knighte,And yet it chanced soe,He tooke to wife a false ladyè,Whiche broughte me to this woe.140
Shee witch'd mee, being a faire yonge maide,In the greene forèst to dwelle;And there to abide in lothlye shape,Most like a fiend of helle.
Midst mores and mosses; woods, and wilds;145To lead a lonesome life:Till some yong faire and courtlye knighteWolde marrye me to his wife:
Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape,Such was her devilish skille;150Until he wolde yielde to be rul'd by mee,And let mee have all my wille.
She witchd my brother to a carlish boore,And made him stiffe and stronge;And built him a bowre on magicke grounde,155To live by rapine and wronge.
But now the spelle is broken throughe,And wronge is turnde to righte;Henceforth I shall bee a faire ladyè,And hee be a gentle knighte.160
⁂
FOOTNOTES:[34][Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 104.][35][complexion.][36][strong.][37][abused.][38]Tearne-Wadlingis the name of a small lake [in Inglewood Forest] near Hesketh in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a tradition, that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible.Tarn, in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in use. ["Tarn-Wadling ... has been for the last ten years a wide meadow grazed by hundreds of sheep."—J. S. Glennie, inMacmillan'sMag.Dec. 1867, p. 167, col. 2.][39]churlish.[40]faith.[41]This was a common phrase in our old writers; so Chaucer, in his prologue to theCant. Tales, says of the wife of Bath:—"Her hosen were of fyne scarlet red."[42]Sir F. Madden remarks that Sir Stephen does not appear in the Round Table Romances.[43][Perhaps intended for Bedver, the King's Constable, Tennyson's Bedivere, but more probably Ban of Benoyk, the brother of Bors.][44][Bors de Gauves, or Gaunes.][45][Gareth, or Gaheret, Sir Gawain's younger brother.][46][neck.]
[34][Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 104.]
[34][Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 104.]
[35][complexion.]
[35][complexion.]
[36][strong.]
[36][strong.]
[37][abused.]
[37][abused.]
[38]Tearne-Wadlingis the name of a small lake [in Inglewood Forest] near Hesketh in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a tradition, that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible.Tarn, in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in use. ["Tarn-Wadling ... has been for the last ten years a wide meadow grazed by hundreds of sheep."—J. S. Glennie, inMacmillan'sMag.Dec. 1867, p. 167, col. 2.]
[38]Tearne-Wadlingis the name of a small lake [in Inglewood Forest] near Hesketh in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a tradition, that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible.Tarn, in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in use. ["Tarn-Wadling ... has been for the last ten years a wide meadow grazed by hundreds of sheep."—J. S. Glennie, inMacmillan'sMag.Dec. 1867, p. 167, col. 2.]
[39]churlish.
[39]churlish.
[40]faith.
[40]faith.
[41]This was a common phrase in our old writers; so Chaucer, in his prologue to theCant. Tales, says of the wife of Bath:—"Her hosen were of fyne scarlet red."
[41]This was a common phrase in our old writers; so Chaucer, in his prologue to theCant. Tales, says of the wife of Bath:—
"Her hosen were of fyne scarlet red."
"Her hosen were of fyne scarlet red."
[42]Sir F. Madden remarks that Sir Stephen does not appear in the Round Table Romances.
[42]Sir F. Madden remarks that Sir Stephen does not appear in the Round Table Romances.
[43][Perhaps intended for Bedver, the King's Constable, Tennyson's Bedivere, but more probably Ban of Benoyk, the brother of Bors.]
[43][Perhaps intended for Bedver, the King's Constable, Tennyson's Bedivere, but more probably Ban of Benoyk, the brother of Bors.]
[44][Bors de Gauves, or Gaunes.]
[44][Bors de Gauves, or Gaunes.]
[45][Gareth, or Gaheret, Sir Gawain's younger brother.]
[45][Gareth, or Gaheret, Sir Gawain's younger brother.]
[46][neck.]
[46][neck.]
Thissong is more modern than many of those which follow it, but is placed here for the sake of the subject. It was sung before queene Elizabeth at the grand entertainment at Kenelworth-castle in 1575, and was probably composed for that occasion. In a letter describing those festivities, it is thus mentioned: "A Minstral came forth with a sollem song, warranted for story out of K. Arthur's acts, whereof I gat a copy, and is this:
"So it fell out on a Pentecost, &c."
"So it fell out on a Pentecost, &c."
After the song the narrative proceeds: "At this the Minstrell made a pause and a curtezy for Primus Passus. More of the song is thear, but I gatt it not."
The story in Morte Arthur, whence it is taken, runs as follows: "Came a messenger hastely from king Ryence of North-Wales,—saying, that king Ryence had discomfited and overcomen eleaven kings, and everiche of them did him homage, and that was this: they gave him their beards cleane flayne off.—wherefore the messenger came for king Arthur's beard, for king Ryence had purfeled a mantell with kings beards, and there lacked for one a place of the mantell, wherefore he sent for his beard, or else he would enter into his lands, and brenn and slay, and never leave till he have thy head and thy beard. Well, said king Arthur, thou hast said thy message, which is the most villainous and lewdest message that ever man heard sent to a king. Also thou mayest see my beard is full young yet for to make a purfell of, but tell thou the king that—or it be long he shall do to me homage on both his knees, or else he shall leese his head." [B. i. c. 24. See also the same Romance, b. i. c. 92.]
The thought seems to be originally taken from Jeff. Monmouth'sHist.b. x. c. 3. which is alluded to by Drayton in hisPoly-Olb.Song.4 and by Spenser inFaer. Qu.6. 1. 13. 15. See the Observations on Spenser, vol. ii. p. 223.
The following text is composed of the best readings selected from three different copies. The first in Enderbie'sCambriaTriumphans, p. 197. The second in the Letter abovementioned. And the third inserted in MS. in a copy ofMorte Arthur, 1632, in the Bodleian Library.
Stow tells us, that king Arthur kept his round table at "diverse places, but especially at Carlion, Winchester, and Camalet in Somersetshire." ThisCamalet, sometimes a famous towne or castle, is situate on a very high tor or hill, &c. (See an exact description in Stowe'sAnnals, ed. 1631, p. 55.)
As it fell out on a Pentecost day,King Arthur at Camelot kept his court royall,With his faire queene dame Guenever the gay;And many bold barons sitting in hall;With ladies attired in purple and pall;5And heraults in hewkes,[47]hooting on high,Cryed,Largesse, Largesse, Chevaliers tres-hardie.[48]A doughty dwarfe to the uppermost deas[49]Right pertlye gan pricke, kneeling on knee;With steven[50]fulle stoute amids all the preas,[51]10Sayd, Nowe sir king Arthur, God save thee, and see!Sir Ryence of North-gales[52]greeteth well thee,And bids thee thy beard anon to him send,Or else from thy jaws he will it off rend.For his robe of state is a rich scarlet mantle,15With eleven kings beards bordered[53]about,And there is room lefte yet in a kantle,[54]For thine to stande, to make the twelfth out:This must be done, be thou never so stout;This must be done, I tell thee no fable,20Maugre[55]the teethe of all thy round table.When this mortal message from his mouthe past,Great was the noyse bothe in hall and in bower:The king fum'd; the queene screecht; ladies were aghast;Princes puffd; barons blustred; lords began lower;Knights stormed; squires startled, like steeds in a stower;26Pages and yeomen yell'd out in the hall,Then in came sir Kay, the 'king's' seneschal.Silence, my soveraignes, quoth this courteous knight,And in that stound the stowre[56]began still:30'Then' the dwarfe's dinner full deerely was dight;[57]Of wine and wassel he had his wille:And, when he had eaten and drunken his fill,An hundred pieces of fine coyned goldWere given this dwarf for his message bold.35But say to sir Ryence, thou dwarf, quoth the king,That for his bold message I do him defye;And shortlye with basins and pans will him ringOut of North-gales; where he and IWith swords, and not razors, quickly shall trye,40Whether he, or king Arthur will prove the best barbor:And therewith he shook his good sword Excalàbor.* * * * *
As it fell out on a Pentecost day,King Arthur at Camelot kept his court royall,With his faire queene dame Guenever the gay;And many bold barons sitting in hall;With ladies attired in purple and pall;5And heraults in hewkes,[47]hooting on high,Cryed,Largesse, Largesse, Chevaliers tres-hardie.[48]
A doughty dwarfe to the uppermost deas[49]Right pertlye gan pricke, kneeling on knee;With steven[50]fulle stoute amids all the preas,[51]10Sayd, Nowe sir king Arthur, God save thee, and see!Sir Ryence of North-gales[52]greeteth well thee,And bids thee thy beard anon to him send,Or else from thy jaws he will it off rend.
For his robe of state is a rich scarlet mantle,15With eleven kings beards bordered[53]about,And there is room lefte yet in a kantle,[54]For thine to stande, to make the twelfth out:This must be done, be thou never so stout;This must be done, I tell thee no fable,20Maugre[55]the teethe of all thy round table.
When this mortal message from his mouthe past,Great was the noyse bothe in hall and in bower:The king fum'd; the queene screecht; ladies were aghast;Princes puffd; barons blustred; lords began lower;Knights stormed; squires startled, like steeds in a stower;26Pages and yeomen yell'd out in the hall,Then in came sir Kay, the 'king's' seneschal.
Silence, my soveraignes, quoth this courteous knight,And in that stound the stowre[56]began still:30'Then' the dwarfe's dinner full deerely was dight;[57]Of wine and wassel he had his wille:And, when he had eaten and drunken his fill,An hundred pieces of fine coyned goldWere given this dwarf for his message bold.35
But say to sir Ryence, thou dwarf, quoth the king,That for his bold message I do him defye;And shortlye with basins and pans will him ringOut of North-gales; where he and IWith swords, and not razors, quickly shall trye,40Whether he, or king Arthur will prove the best barbor:And therewith he shook his good sword Excalàbor.* * * * *