Chapter I: Book X: Orgeluse

Now tell we of strange adventures thro' which joy shall be
waxen low,
And yet pride shall grow the greater, of the twain doth this
story show.

Now the year of truce was ended, when the strife must needs
be fought
Which the Landgrave unto King Arthur at Plimizöl had brought.
At Schamfanzon he challenged Gawain to meet him at Barbigöl, 5
Yet still unavenged was Kingrisein at the hand of
Kingrimursel--
In sooth, Vergulacht, he rode there, and thither had come
Gawain,
And the whole world was 'ware of their kinship nor might
strife be betwixt the twain;
For the murder, Count Eckunât did it, and Gawain must they
guiltless hold,
At rest did they lay their quarrel and friends were those
heroes bold. 10

Then they parted for both would ride thence, Vergulacht and
the knight Gawain,
Tho' both for the Grail were seeking yet apart would they
ride, those twain.
And many a joust must they ride now, for he who the Grail
would see
Sword in hand must he draw anigh it, and swift must his
seeking be!

Now all that befell to Gawain, the lot of that blameless
knight 15
Since he rode forth from fair Schamfanzon, if he oft on his
way must fight,
Ye shall ask of those who there saw him, since naught may I
tell ye here,
Yet hearken, and heed the story and the venture that draweth
near.
One morning Gawain rode gaily o'er a grassy plain and green,
When a shield, in the sun fair shining, with lance-thrust
pierced thro' was seen, 20
And a charger stood beside it that bare women's riding-gear,
And the bridle and aye the housing were of costly stuff and
dear--
And the charger and shield beside it were bound to a linden
tree.
Then he thought, 'Who shall be this woman? for valiant I ween
is she,
Since she beareth a shield so knightly--If she thinketh with
me to fight, 25
How, then, may I best withstand her? Were it better to here
alight?
If too long she wrestle with me perchance I were overthrown,
If hatred or love I shall win here I will fight her on foot
alone;
Yea, e'en an she were Kamilla, who before Laurentium fought--
Did she live still to battle with me, as awhile she for
honour sought, 30
I would face her, nor fear her prowess, if here she my foe
would be,
Tho' ne'er with a maid have I foughten and the chance seemeth
ill to me!'

Battle-hewn was the shield and dinted, as Gawain right well
espied
The nearer he rode unto it, and pierced with a lance-thrust
wide.
Such token by joust is painted, little payment his skill
should know 35
Whose hand erst the shield had fashioned an he thought him to
paint it so!
By the trunk of the mighty linden sat a maid on the grass so
green,
And sore did she weep and bewail her, and joyless, I wot, her
mien.
Then around the tree rode Gawain, and lo! on her knee she
bore
A knight, and she wept above him, and grieved with a sorrow
sore. 40

Fair greeting Sir Gawain proffered, she thanked him and bowed
her low,
And hoarse was her voice thro' weeping and weakened thro'
force of woe.
Then down to the ground sprang Gawain, for the knight he was
like to choke,
Since the blood welled within his body, and unto the maid he
spoke,
And he asked if the knight were living, or should now in the
death-throe be? 45
And she spake, 'He dieth surely, yet but now alive was he,
God hath sent thee unto my succour, now help me with word and
deed,
Such wounds shalt thou oft have looked on, give counsel in
this my need!'

'Yea, gladly I'll aid thee, Lady, from death shall thy knight
be freed,
And healing I well might win him an there were but at hand a
reed. 50
Thou shalt see him, and hearken to him, nor his life shall be
waxen less,
The wound is not all too dangerous, but the blood on his
heart doth press.'
Then he stripped from a bough of the linden the bark, and did
wind it round,
(No fool he in art of healing,) and he set it unto the wound,
And he bade the maiden suck it till the blood should toward
her flow-- 55
And strength came again and hearing, and the voice of the
knight they know,
And he looked on Gawain, and he thanked him, and said he
should honoured be
In that from his woe he had freed him, and he asked of him,
whence came he?
Rode he hither in search of knighthood? 'From far Punturtois
I came
In search of such knightly venture as should win for me meed
of fame, 60
Yet sorely must I bewail me for the ill that I here have won,
Sir Knight, an thy senses fail not, 'twere better this way to
shun!'

'Such evil I little looked for--'Twas Lischois Giwellius
Who hath wounded me so sorely, and down from my charger
thrust:
Fair was the joust and knightly, and he pierced me thro'
shield and side, 65
On her steed this maiden helped me, and hither hath been my
guide!'
Then he prayed Gawain to abide there, but he spake, he the
place would see
Where such evil had chanced unto him, 'If Logrois thus near
shall be,
Perchance I shall yet o'ertake him, he shall answer to me, I
trow,
For the deed he hath done, and his reason for vengeance on
thee I'll know!' 70
But the wounded knight spake, 'Not so, for true are the words
I say,
And no child's play shall be this journey, great perils beset
the way.'

With the band from the maiden's tresses Gawain the wound did
bind,
And spake o'er it spells of healing, and he bade them their
comfort find
In God, since He cares for all men--With blood was their
pathway red, 75
And crimson the grass besprinkled as a stag had its
life-blood shed;
Thus he rode not astray, and in short space did Logrois
before him stand--
A fortress so fair and stately, its praise was in every land.

'Twas a stately Burg well builded, and it wound the hillside
round,
From afar as a mighty circlet the fortress the summit
crowned. 80
E'en to-day men this honour give it, its wall shall be
stormed in vain,
For it openeth its gates to no foeman, whose hatred soe'er it
gain!
And a garden lay green around it, 'twas planted with trees so
fair,
Olive, pomegranate, fig-tree, and the vine which its grapes
doth bear,
And gaily they grew and flourished--as Gawain rode that
garden bright 85
He saw there what wrought him sorrow, yet filled him with all
delight!

A streamlet gushed forth from the hillside, there he saw that
which grieved him naught,
A lady so fair to look on that gladly her face he sought.
The flower was she of all women, save Kondwiramur alone
No fairer form nor feature might ever on earth be known. 90
So sweet and so bright to look on, so courteous and royal of
mien,
Orgelusé, was she, of Logrois, and men say that in her was
seen
The charm that desire awakeneth, a balm for the eyes of care,
For no heart but was drawn toward her, and no mouth but would
speak her fair!

Gawain gave her courteous greeting, and he spake, 'If such
grace I gain 95
That thou willest I should alight here and awhile at thy side
remain,
If I see that my presence please thee, then sorrow be far
from me,
And joy in its stead dwell with me, no knight e'er might
gladder be!
May I die if the truth I speak not, no woman e'er pleased me
more--'
'It is well, yet methinks I knew that,' then the knight for a
space she saw; 100

And her sweet lips spake thus unto him, 'Now make of thy
praise an end,
For well might it work thee evil, and I care not that foe or
friend,
Whoever he be that cometh, his judgment on me shall speak,
For sure if all lips shall praise me my fame it but waxeth
weak!
If the wise praise me e'en as the foolish, the false as the
pure and true, 105
Then my fame shall be e'en as another's, for the many shall
drown the few.
But my praise do I hold, and but wisdom shall speak that
which she doth know--
Who thou mayst be, Sir Knight, I know not, but 'tis time thou
thy way shouldst go!'

'Yet o'er thee will I speak my verdict, if thou dwellest
anear my heart
Then thy dwelling is not _within_ it, for _without_ shalt
thou have thy part. 110
And say thou my love desirest, how hast thou rewarding won?
From the eyes swiftly shoot the glances, yet a sling, when
the work is done,
Smiteth gentler than looks which linger on that which doth
sorrow wreak,
Thy desire is but empty folly, thou shouldst other service
seek!
If thine hand for love's sake shall battle, if adventure hath
bidden thee 115
By knighthood win love's rewarding, yet thou winnest it not
from _me_.
Nor honour shall be thy portion, but shame shalt thou win
alone--
Now the truth have I spoken unto thee, 'twere best thou
shouldst get thee gone!'

Then he quoth, 'Truth thou speakest, Lady, since mine eyes
thus mine heart have brought
In danger, for _they_ beheld thee, and thy fetters around me
wrought. 120
But now, since I be thy captive, I prithee entreat me well,
Without thine own will hast thou done this, in silence I
owned thy spell:
Thou shalt loose me, or thou shalt bind me, for my will it
shall be as thine,
And gladly all woes I'ld suffer if so I might call thee
mine!'

Then she quoth, 'Yea! so take me with thee, if thou countest
upon thy gain, 125
And the love that shall be thy guerdon, thou shalt mourn it
in shame and pain.

I would know if a man thou shalt be who bravely for me would
fight--
And yet, if thou prize thine honour, thou wilt flee from this
strife, Sir Knight!
And should I yet further rede thee, and thou shouldst to my
word say yea,
Then seek thou elsewhere a lady--For, if thou my love dost
pray, 130
Then joy and fair love's rewarding fall never unto thy share,
But sorrow shall be thy portion if hence I with thee shall
fare!'

Then answered Gawain, 'Without service, who thinketh true
love to win?
An one did so, then here I tell thee, 'twere counted to him
for sin,
For true love ever asketh service, yea after as aye before!' 135
Then she quoth, 'Wilt thou do me service? shame waiteth for
thee in store,
Tho' thy life be a life of conflict--No coward as my knight
I'll own;
See thou yonder path, 'tis no highway, o'er the bridge doth
it wend adown
To the garden, take thou the pathway, for there shalt thou
find my steed--
Many folk shalt thou see and shalt hearken, but take thou of
their words no heed, 140
Nor stay for their dance or singing, for tambour, or harp, or
flute,
But go thou to my horse, and loose it, that I go not with
thee afoot!'
Gawain sprang from off his charger--Yet awhile he bethought
him well
Where his steed might abide his coming: by the waters that
rippling fell
Was no tree unto which to bind it, and he knew not if he this
dame 145
Might pray, would she hold his charger till once more with
her own he came.
Then she quoth, 'I see well what doth vex thee, thine horse
shalt thou leave with me,
I will guard it until thy coming tho' small good shall that
be to thee!'

Then Gawain took his horse's bridle, 'Now hold this for me, I
pray;'
'Now indeed art thou dull and foolish,' spake the lady,
'where _thou_ dost lay 150
Thine hand, thinkest thou _I'll_ hold it? such deed would
beseem me ill!'
Then the love-lorn knight spake gently, for fain would he do
her will,
'Further forward I never hold it!' Then she quoth, '_I_ will
hold it there,
And do thou my bidding swiftly, bring my steed and with thee
I'll fare;'
Then he thought this a joyful hearing, and straightway he
left her side, 155
And over the bridge so narrow to the garden gate he hied;
There saw he many a maiden, and knights so brave and young,
And within that goodly garden so gaily they danced and sung.

And Gawain he was clad so richly, with helmet and harness
fair,
That all must bewail his coming for naught but true folk
dwelt there. 160
They cared for that lovely garden, on the greensward they
stood or lay,
Or sat 'neath the tents whose shadow was cool 'gainst the
sunlight's ray.
Yet they ceased not to bemoan him, and to grieve for his
sorrow sore,
Yea, man alike and maiden, and in this wise their plaint they
bore,
'Alas! that our lady's cunning will to danger this knight
betray! 165
Alas! that he fain will follow, for she rideth an evil way.'

And many stepped fair towards him, and their arms around him
threw,
And bade him a friendly greeting--to an olive tree he drew,
For the steed was fast beneath it, so rich was its gear, I
ween,
That the cost of the goodly trappings full thousand marks had
been. 170
And an old knight he stood beside it, well-trimmed was his
beard and grey,
And upon a staff he leant him, and salt tears he wept alway.
And the tears, they were shed for Gawain, as he to the steed
drew near,
Yet his words of kindly greeting fell soft on the hero's ear.
Then he spake, 'Wilt thou hearken counsel? Lay not on this
steed thine hand, 175
And herein shalt thou show thy wisdom--tho' none here thy
will withstand,
Yet, indeed, it were best to leave it! Accurst be our lady
queen,
For of many a gallant hero, I wot, she the death hath been!'
Yet Gawain he would do her bidding--'Then, alas! for woe
draweth near,'
Spake the knight, and he loosed the halter, ''Twere best not
to linger here, 180
The steed shalt thou take, and shalt leave us, and may He Who
made salt the sea,
In the hour of thy need, and thy peril, thy strength and thy
counsel be:
And see thou that our lady's beauty, it bringeth thee not to
shame,
She is sour in the midst of sweetness, 'mid the sunlight a
shower of rain.'

'God grant it,' then quoth Sir Gawain, and straightway he
took his leave 185
Of the old knight and of his comrades and sorely the folk did
grieve.
And the horse went a narrow pathway, and it passed thro' the
garden gate,
And it crossed o'er the bridge, and he found her who there
did his coming wait,
The queen of his heart, and the ruler was she of that land so
fair,
Yet altho' his heart fled towards her yet grief thro' her
deed it bare. 190

Her hand 'neath her chin soft-rounded had loosened the
wimple's fold,
And flung it aback on her head-gear,--(if a woman ye thus
behold,
Know ye that for strife she longeth and mischief she hath in
mind)--
Would ye know how else she had robed her ye naught in my song
shall find,
For how might I tell her raiment and name ye her robes
aright, 195
When mine eyes, on her fair face gazing, saw naught but her
beauty bright?

As Gawain drew near the lady, she hailed him with scornful
mien,
'Now welcome, thou goose! for of all men most foolish art
thou, I ween,
All too bent shalt thou be on my service, wert thou wise thou
wouldst let it be--'
Then he quoth, 'Yet shalt thou be gracious who now art so
wroth with me, 200
For so harshly thou dost chastise me thou in honour must make
it good,
And my hand shall be fain to serve thee till thou winnest a
milder mood;
Ask thou what of me thou willest--Shall I lift thee upon thy
steed?'
But she quoth, 'I will no such service, for methinks all too
great such meed
For a hand that is yet unproven--Ask thou for a lesser
grace!' 205
On the flowery sward she turned her, and she looked not on
Gawain's face,
But she laid her hand on the bridle, and she light to the
saddle sprung,
And she bade him to ride before her, and she spake with a
mocking tongue,
'Now indeed would it be great pity did I stray from so brave
a knight,
By God's grace will we keep together, so ride thou within my
sight!' 210

Now he who my rede would follow his peace shall he hold
awhile,
Lest he speak but the word of folly, till he know if she
wrought of guile,
For as yet the truth ye know not, nor the thing that was in
her heart.
And were it the time for vengeance, then I too might bear my
part,
And take from this lady payment for the wrong she hath done
Gawain; 215
Nor of that she shall do hereafter shall aught unavenged
remain.

But Orgelusé, that lovely lady, bare herself in no friendly
wise,
For she rode in the track of Gawain, and so wrathful, I ween,
her guise
That were I in the stead of Gawain little comfort my soul
might take
That she from my care would free me, and with fair love
atonement make. 220
Then they rode on an open moorland, and a herb did Sir Gawain
see
Whose root had the power of healing, and down to the ground
sprang he,
And dug up the root, and swiftly he sprang on his steed
again.
And the lady she looked upon him, and she spake in a mocking
vein,
'Now in sooth if this my companion can at one-while be leech
and knight, 225
For starvation he need not fear him if his salve-box he bear
aright!'
Quoth Gawain, ''Neath a mighty linden a wounded knight I saw,
Methinks, if again I find him, this herb shall the poison
draw
From his wounds, and new strength may give him!' She spake,
'Now I well were fain
To look on thy skill, for who knoweth what knowledge I thence
may gain!' 230

Now a squire he rode swift behind them, 'twas the lady's
messenger,
Fain was he to do her bidding--As the horse-hoofs they drew
anear
Gawain would await his coming, and his steed for a space he
held,
Yet he deemed him he saw a monster when first he the squire
beheld,
For Malcréature did they call him, and Kondrie was his sister
fair, 235
And e'en such a face as the sister, I ween, did the brother
bear.
From his mouth, as the tusks of a wild-boar, stood the teeth
out to left and right,
Unlike was his face to a man's face, and fearful in all men's
sight.
And the locks of his hair were shorter than those which from
Kondrie hung
Adown on her mule, stiff as bristles, and sharp, from his
head they sprung. 240
And beside the river Ganges, in the land of Tribalibot,
Dwell such folk, if awhile ye hearken ye shall learn how
befell their lot.

Now Adam, of all men father, from God did he learn such
skill,
All beasts, wild and tame, he knew them, and he namèd them at
his will.
And he knew the stars and their pathway, as they circle the
silent sky, 245
And the power of the seven planets, how they rule men from
heaven high,
And he knew of all roots the virtue, and the ill that was
theirs of yore--
When his children were grown to manhood, and daughters and
sons they bore,
From evil desires he warned them; and his daughters he oft
did rede
Of certain roots to beware them, that wrought ill with the
human seed, 250
And would change their face, and their aspect, and
dishonoured the race should be;
And he spake, 'Then shall we be other than erst God did
fashion me,
And therefore do ye, my children, give heed to the words I
say,
Nor be blind to your bliss, lest _your_ children they wander
too far astray.'

But the women, they did as women, in forbidden ways they
went, 255
And they wrought out the lust and the evil on which their
desire was bent,
And the shape of men was changèd, such rewarding their fault
must win,
And tho' firm stood the will of Adam yet sorely he mourned
their sin--
Now the fair Queen Sekundillé, her body, her crown, and land,
Feirefis had won as his guerdon by the power of his knightly
hand, 260
And there, in her far-off kingdom (no lie is the tale I tell)
Full many of this strange people since the days that are gone
do dwell,
And their faces are ill to look on, and the birth-marks are
strange they bear.
And once of the Grail men told her, and Anfortas' kingdom
fair,
That on earth was naught like to his riches, and a marvel she
thought his land-- 265
(And the waters within her kingdom bare jewels instead of
sand,
And many a golden mountain shall rear its crest on high.)
And the queen she thought, 'How may I win speech of his
majesty,
Who ruleth the Grail?' she bethought her, and rich presents
she sent the king,
Of jewels fair, and beside them, they should to his kingdom
bring 270
Of this folk, so strange to look on, the twain of whom now I
tell,
Kondrie and the squire, her brother--and in this wise the
chance befell
(Much treasure beside she sent him whose cost might of none
be told,)
That Anfortas, the gentle monarch, who was courteous as he
was bold,
For the love he bare Orgelusé sent this squire unto her
grace, 275
By the sin and the lust of women set apart from the human
race!

Now this son of the herbs and the planets loud mocked at the
gallant knight,
Who, courteous, would wait his coming; no charger he rode of
might,
But a mare so feint and feeble and halting in every limb,
And oft to the ground it stumbled 'neath its rider so harsh
and grim. 280
I wot well e'en Dame Jeschuté rode a better steed that day
When Parzival's hand avenged her, and her shaming was put
away!

The squire he looked well upon Gawain, and thus in his wrath
he spake,
'If thou be a _knight_, I think me, and my lady with thee
wilt take
Thou shalt sorely repent the journey--A fool thou in truth
must be, 285
And such peril shall be thy guerdon as winneth great praise
to thee,
If so be that thou canst withstand it--Yet, if but a
_servant_ thou,
Of buffets and blows, I think me, full soon wilt thou have
enow!'

Then out quoth Gawain, 'My knighthood such chastisement ne'er
might feel,
'Tis good but for worthless youngsters who shrink from the
touch of steel; 290
But _I_ hold me free of such insults, and e'en if it so shall
be
That thou and this lovely lady your mock'ry shall pour on me,
Then _one_ sure shall taste my vengeance, nor think thou that
I wax wroth
For ill tho' thou be to look on I hold thee but light in
troth!'
With that by the hair he gripped him, and he swung him from
off his horse, 295
The squire glared wrathful on him, and his bristles, so sharp
and coarse,
Took vengeance sore on Gawain, his hand did they cut and tear
Till the blood dripped crimson from it--then loud laughed the
lady fair,
'Now in sooth this is good to look on, to see ye twain in
wrath!'
So rode the twain, the squire's horse came halting upon their
path. 300

So came they unto the linden where the wounded knight they
found,
On his side the herb of healing the hand of Gawain bound;
Quoth the knight, 'Now, how went it with thee since first
thou didst find me here?
Thou leadest with thee a lady who plotteth thine ill, I fear!
'Tis thro' her I so sore am wounded; at the Perilous Ford, I
ween, 305
Did she force such a joust upon me as well-nigh my death had
been!
So, if thou thy life now lovest, I warn thee to let her be,
And turn thee aside, nor ride with her, but warning to take
by me--
And yet may my wounds be healèd, if rest for awhile I gain,
And, Sir Knight, thereto canst thou help me!' 'That will I,'
quoth knight Gawain. 310
Then the wounded knight spake further, 'A spital shall stand
near by,
And if I but now might reach it for awhile I in peace might
lie,
Thou seest my lady's palfrey, it can carry, methinks, the
twain
If she rideth afore, I behind her, so help me its back to
gain.'

From the bough of the mighty linden Sir Gawain he loosed the
steed, 315
And the bridle he took that the palfrey he might to the lady
lead--
'Away from me!' cried the sick man, 'thou treadest on me I
trow!'
Then he led it apart, and the lady she followed so soft and
slow,
For she knew what her lord did purpose; as the maid to her
horse he swung,
Up started the knight, and swiftly on the charger of Gawain
sprung! 320
And, methinks, an ill deed he did there--With his lady he
rode away,
And I ween that with sin was tainted the prize that he won
that day!

Then sore did Gawain bemoan him, but the lady laughed loud
and clear;
(And, were it a jest, he thought him such mirth were
unfitting here,)
As his charger was taken from him her sweet lips in this wise
spake, 325
'First wert thou a _knight_, then, in short space, I thee for
a _leech_ must take,
Now art thou become my _footman_! yet thou shouldst in no
wise despair,
Such skill sure should bring thee comfort! Wouldst thou
_still_ in my favours share?'

'Yea, Lady,' then quoth Sir Gawain, 'an I might thy favor
hold,
The whole earth hath nothing fairer were the tale of its
riches told; 330
And of crownèd heads, and uncrownèd, of all who may joyful
win
The highest meed of glory, did they bid me to share therein,
Yet still my heart would rede me to count all such gain as
naught
If thy love were but weighed against it, such bliss had thy
favour brought!
If thy love may not be my guerdon then a swift sad death I'll
die, 335
'Tis thine own this thing that thou scornest when thou
dealest thus mockingly.
Tho' a free man born thou shalt hold me thy vassal, if such
thy will,
Call me knight, or slave, or servant, the _name_ it shall
please me still!
Yet, I think me, thou doest not rightly--When my service thou
thus wilt shame
Thou drawest down sin upon thee, and thou shamest thine own
fair fame. 340
If my service doth bring me honour thou hast naught withal to
scorn,
And such words shall but ill beseem thee tho' they lightly by
me be borne!'

Then back rode the knight, sore wounded, and he quoth, 'Is it
thou, Gawain?
For that which erewhile I owed thee here dost thou full
payment gain,
Since thine hand in bitter conflict, me, thy foeman, did
prisoner make 345
And unto thine uncle Arthur thou didst me thy captive take,
And four weeks long must I dwell there, and four weeks long I
fed
With the dogs--I shall ne'er forget it till the days of my
life be sped!'

Then he quoth, 'Is it thou, O Urian? If now thou art wroth
with me,
Yet guiltless am I, the king's favour at that time I won for
thee, 350
For thy folly so far betrayed thee that men spake thee an
outcast knight,
And thy shield it was taken from thee, and forfeit thy name
and right;
Since thou ill didst entreat a maiden, and the peace of the
land didst break,
With a rope had the king repaid thee, but to him for thy life
I spake!'

'Howe'er that might be, here thou standest, and the proverb
thou well mayst know, 355
"Who saveth the life of another, that other shall have for
foe."
And I do as a wise man doeth--'Tis better a child should weep
Than a full-grown man, and bearded,--this charger mine hand
shall keep!'
Then he spurred him amain, and he rode thence, as fast as his
steed might fly,
And wroth was Gawain at his dealing, and he spake out right
angrily; 360

'Now it fell out in this wise, Lady, King Arthur his court
did hold
At Dianasdron, and with him rode many a Breton bold.
Then as messenger to his kingdom a maiden must take her way,
And this fool, for venture seeking, he crossed her path that
day,
And both to the land were strangers--He burnt with unholy
fire, 365
And fierce with the maid he wrestled till he bent her to his
desire.
As she cried for help we heard her--then the king "To arms"
did call,
In a wood the thing had chanced thus, thither rode we one and
all,
And I rode of all the foremost, and I saw the sinner's track,
And I made him perforce my captive, and to Arthur I brought
him back.' 370

'And the maiden she rode beside us, and sorely did she bemoan
That to _force_ she must yield the guerdon that to _service_
was due alone.
Of her maidenhood had he robbed her--Yet but lowly his fame
shall stand
Who vaunteth himself the victor o'er a woman's unarmèd hand--
And wrathful, I ween, was King Arthur, and he spake, 'Ye my
servants true, 375
Ye shall hold this deed for accursèd, and the day of its
doing rue.
Alas! for the woful dawning and the light that this thing
hath seen,
Alas! that I here am ruler, for the judgment is mine, I
ween!'
And he spake to the weeping maiden, 'Hast thou wisdom, thy
cause then plead.'
She spake fearless, e'en as he bade her, and the knights they
must list her rede. 380

'Then Prince Urian of Punturtois stood before the Breton
king,
And against his life and his honour, her plaint did the
maiden bring,
And she spake so that all might hear her, and with weeping
words did pray
The king, for the sake of women, her shaming to put away.
And she prayed by the honour of women, and by the Round
Table's fame, 385
And the right which as message-bearer she thought of all men
to claim,
If he sat there that day for judgment he should judge her
with judgment true,
And avenge her of this dishonour which her soul must for ever
rue.
And she prayed they would do her justice, those knights of
the Table Round,
Since in sooth she had lost a treasure which might never
again be found, 390
Her maidenhood fair and unstainèd! Then all men, with one
accord,
Spake him guilty, and for his judgment called loudly upon
their lord!'

'Then an advocate spake for the captive, (Small honour was
his I trow.)
And he spake as he might in his favour, yet it went with him
ill enow,
For of life and of honour forfeit did they judge him, the
headsman's sword 395
Should ne'er be his death, but a halter should they twine him
of hempen cord.
Then loud in his woe he prayed me, since he yielded him to
mine hand,
For mine honour should sure be stainèd if wrought were the
king's command.
Then I prayed of the weeping maiden, since she saw how that I
in fight
Had avenged upon him her shaming, to pardon the traitor
knight. 400
For sure 'twas the spell of her beauty that had wrought upon
him for sin,
And the love of her form so shapely--"For aye if a knight
doth win
Sore peril for love of a woman, she should aid him, and hear
his prayer,
So I prithee to cease thine anger, and have pity on his
despair."'

'Then the king and his men I prayed them, by what service I
e'er had done, 405
They should loose me from stain of dishonour which I by his
death had won,
And the knight should live, as I sware him.--Then the lady,
his gracious queen,
I prayed by the bond of kinship, since my friend she hath
ever been,
(From my childhood, King Arthur reared me and my love doth
toward them flow,)
That she of her kindness help me--as I asked, it was even so, 410
For she drew on one side the maiden, and she spake to her
soft and kind,
And it was thro' the queen, I wot me, that the knight did his
pardon find.
Thus free from his guilt they spake him, yet his sin must he
sorely rue,
For the life that was granted to him stern penance he needs
must do.
With the hounds of the chase and the house-dogs from one
trough he needs must eat 415
For the space of four weeks, thus the maiden found avenging
as it was meet!'

'For this cause is he wroth with me, Lady'--'Yet his judgment
it went astray,
If my love ne'er shall be thy guerdon, in such wise I'll his
deed repay
That ere he shall leave my kingdom he shall count it to him
for shame!
Since King Arthur avenged not the evil that was wrought on
that maid's fair fame 420
It falleth unto mine office, and judge am I o'er ye twain,
Tho' who ye may be I know not, yet I to this task am fain!
And well shall he be chastisèd for the wrong that he did the
maid,
Not for _thine_, for I ween such evil is better by blows
repaid.'

To the mare now Sir Gawain turned him, and lightly he caught
the rein, 425
And the squire he followed after, and the lady she spake
again,
And in Arabic spake she to him, and she gave him to know her
will--
Now hearken unto my story, how Sir Gawain he fared but ill:
Then Malcréature, he left them--and Gawain his horse beheld,
Too feeble it was for battle, the squire, as his way he held 430
Down the hill, from the peasant-owner had taken the sorry
steed,
And Gawain for his charger must have it, tho' but ill it
might serve his need.

In mocking and hatred spake she, 'Wilt still ride upon thy
way?'
Quoth Gawain, 'I will take my journey e'en in such wise as
thou shalt say.'
She quoth, 'Wilt abide my counsel? It shall reach thee I ween
too late!' 435
Quoth he, 'Yet for that will I serve thee, tho' o'er-long I
thy rede shall wait!'
Quoth she, 'Then a fool I think thee, for unless thou shalt
leave this mind,
Then sorrow instead of gladness and repentance for joy
thou'lt find!'
Then he quoth, of her love desirous, 'Yet thy servant I still
abide,
If joy be my lot or sorrow, be thy love and thy will my
guide. 440
Since thy love laid its spell upon me in thy bidding my law I
see,
And ahorse or afoot I'll follow, I care not where'er it be!'

So stood he beside the lady, and awhile he beheld the mare,
Who to joust with such steed had ridden his gold were
o'er-keen to spare!
For the stirrups of hemp were twisted, and ne'er had this
gallant knight 445
Such saddle, I ween, bestridden, it would serve him but ill
for fight.
For e'en as he looked upon it, he thought, 'If on _that_ I
ride,
The girths sure will break asunder, nor the saddle my weight
abide!'
And so weak was the steed and ill-shapen, had one dared on
its back to leap
Of a sooth would the back have broken--On foot he the road
must keep! 450

And in this guise he took his journey: the horse by the rein
he held,
And his spear and his shield he carried; and the lady his
grief beheld,
And she mocked him with ringing laughter, fain was she to
work him woe--
Then his shield on the mare he fastened, and she spake, 'In
such guise wouldst go,
And carry thy wares thro' my kingdom? A strange lot is mine,
I ween, 455
Since _footman_, and _leech_, and _merchant_ in turn hath my
comrade been!
Of the toll hadst thou best beware thee, or else, as thou
goest thy way,
It may chance they who take the toll here on thy merchandise
hands may lay!

And tho' sharp, I ween, was her mocking yet her words was he
fain to hear,
Nor rued he the bitter speeches that rang sweet to his
longing ear. 460
And as ever his eyes beheld her his sorrow it fled away,
For fair was she to his thinking as blossoms in month of May!
A delight of the eyes, and heart-sorrow, his gain and his
loss was she,
And languishing joy did she quicken--Her freeman and captive
he!

This hath many a master taught me, that Amor, and Cupid too, 465
And Venus, of both the mother, make all men their deeds to
rue;
For with darts and with fire they kindle desire in the
longing heart,
But such love seemeth me but evil that is lighted by torch or
dart.
And the true heart it loveth ever, be its guerdon or joy or
woe,
And in honour the love is rooted which alone shall abiding
know! 470

'Gainst me have thy darts, O Cupid! I ween ever missed their
mark,
Nor Amor with spear hath smote me, nor fell on my heart a
spark
From the torch of thy mother Venus--Tho' love 'neath your
rule shall be,
If love be my lot, not from _passion_ but from _faith_ shall
it bloom for me!

And if I with wit and wisdom 'gainst love's spells might a
hero aid, 475
Gawain had I gladly aided, nor asked that I be repaid.
And yet no shame need he think it if love's fetters him
captive hold,
And if he of love be vanquished, for her captives are aye the
bold.
And yet so strong was he ever, and so knightly, to face the
foe,
That 'tis pity so brave a hero by a _woman_ should be laid
low! 480

Now well let us gaze upon thee, thou power which true love
doth wield,
Such joy hast thou taken from us that barren and reft the
field,
And thou makest a road of sorrow across it, both long and
wide,
And if thy goal had been other than the high heart I would
not chide.
For folly methinks and lightness love all too old shall be, 485
Or shall we to childhood reckon the evil love worketh free?
For better are ways unseemly in youth, than if age forget
Its wisdom--much ill love worketh, unto which shall the blame
be set?
For the mind of youth ever wavers, and changeth as changing
winds,
And if love shall be thus unsteadfast, little praise may she
hope to find. 490
Nay, better shall be my counsel, for the _wise_ praise true
love alone;
Yea, and maiden and man shall join me, and all who love's
power have known.

When true love unto true love answereth, undarkened by
thought of guile,
And it vexeth them not that love turneth the key on their
heart awhile,
For they fear not nor think of wavering, then high as the
heaven above 495
O'er the earth, o'er the love that changeth, is such true and
steadfast love.

Yet, gladly as I would free him, to Frau Minne Gawain must
bow,
And his joy shall awhile be darkened--Small profit my words,
I trow,
And the wisdom I fain had taught him, for no man may love
withstand,
And love alone giveth wisdom, and nerveth with strength the
hand! 500

And to Gawain she gave this penance, afoot must he wend his
way
While his lady she rode beside him--To a woodland they came
alway,
And he led the steed to a tree-trunk, and the shield that
awhile it bare
He hung round his neck as befitting, and lightly bestrode the
mare,
And scarcely the steed might bear him--Then they came to a
builded land, 505
And a castle so fair and stately he saw there before him
stand,
And his heart and his eyes bare witness no fortress was like
this hall,
So knightly and fair the palace, and so countless its turrets
tall.
And many a maiden looked forth from its casements, he thought
to see
Four hundred and more, o'er all others, I ween, _four_ might
fairest be. 510

Then the lady and her companion they rode a well-trodden road
To a water whose waves ran swiftly, and ships sailed the
flood so broad.
By the landing there lay a meadow, where men jousts were wont
to ride,
And the towers of that stately castle rose fair on the
further side.
Then Gawain, that gallant hero, saw a knight who rode swift
and near, 515
As one who for combat lusted, and he spared not or shield or
spear.

Quoth the lady, fair Orgelusé, and haughty her tone and
proud,
'In what else thou mayst gainsay me in this be my truth
allowed,
For other I ne'er have told thee save that shame shall thy
portion be,
Now here, if thou canst, defend thee, since no better is left
to thee. 520
Methinks he who cometh hither shall fell thee beneath his
thrust--
If thy garments perchance be riven, and thou bitest, ashamed,
the dust,
Then those women above shall mourn thee, who look for some
deed of fame,
Seest thou how they gaze from the lattice? How, then, if they
see thy shame?'
Then the boatman across the water he came at the lady's will, 525
From the shore to the boat she stepped there, and Gawain it
but pleased him ill;
For, mocking, fair Orgelusé spake thus to the gallant knight,
'Thou com'st not with me, I leave thee on this shore as a
pledge for fight!'
Then sadly his voice rang after, 'Say, Lady, wilt leave me
so?
Shall I never again behold thee?' Then she spake, 'I would
have thee know 530
If victory be thy portion thou shalt look on my face again,
Yet but small is the chance I think me.' So sailed she from
knight Gawain.

Then up rode Lischois Giwellius, 'twere a lie if I said he
_flew_,
And yet little other did he for the earth scarce his
footprints knew.
And for this must I praise the charger, who the greensward
with such swift feet 535
Had trodden--Gawain bethought him how he best might his
foeman meet;
He thought, 'Should I here await him afoot, or this steed
bestride?
If his horse's speed he check not he surely o'er me will
ride,
And this fate must o'ertake his charger, to fall o'er my
fallen steed;
But, if he for combat lusteth, afoot on this flowery mead 540
Will I face him and give him battle, since battle he doth
desire,
Tho' never I win her favour who hath brought on me need so
dire.'

Fight they must, and they fought as heroes, he who came and
he who did wait,
For jousting he made him ready, and the lance-point Gawain
held straight,
And he rested it on the saddle, (for thus did he counsel
take,) 545
Then e'en as the joust was ridden the spears did in splinters
break,
And the knights, the one as the other, they fell in that
goodly fray,
For the better charger stumbled and by Gawain its rider lay.
Then the twain to their feet upspringing their swords from
the scabbard drew,
Since alike they were keen for combat, and their shields in
pieces flew, 550
For each hewed at the shield of the other till a hand's
breadth alone, I ween,
They held, for the pledge of conflict the shield it hath ever
been.

Flashed the sword-blades, fire sprang from the helmets, a
venture brave I trow
Was his who should here be victor, tho' stern conflict he
first must know.
Long space did they fight, those heroes, on the flowery
meadow wide, 555
And as smiths, who all day have laboured, as it weareth to
eventide
Grow faint with their toil and weary with the mighty blows
they smite,
So weary and faint were those heroes who here did for honour
fight.

But for this none methinks shall praise them, unwise do I
hold the twain,
No cause had they here for battle, 'twas fame that they
thought to gain; 560
And strangers unto each other, each other's life they sought,
And yet, had they made confession, each owed to the other
naught!

Now Gawain was a gallant wrestler, and his foe to the ground
would bring
If in spite of the sword he might grip him, and let but the
mighty ring
Of his arms his foeman circle, he forced him where'er he
would. 565
Now must he with force defend him, and he fought as a hero
good,
And his courage waxed ever higher, and the youth in his arms
he caught,
And he bare him to earth beneath him tho' e'en as a man he
fought.
And he quoth, 'Wilt thou live, thou hero, thou must yield
thee unto mine hand!'
Yet Lischois, he was all unready to follow so stern command; 570
For never his pledge had he given, and he deemed it a
wondrous thing
That the hand of a knight should o'erthrow him, and him in
such peril bring
That against his will he must yield him, who had ever the
victor been,
For in sooth full many a combat his foeman o'erthrown had
seen.
Full oft he from them had taken what he cared not to give
again, 575
Nay, rather his life would he forfeit; and he spake unto
knight Gawain,
And he said, 'Let what would befall him, his pledge to no man
he'd give;'
Nay, death would he rather suffer, since no longer he cared
to live!

Then sadly, he spake, the vanquished, 'Thou hero, is victory
thine?
So long as God bare me favour such honour was ever mine; 580
But now hath my fame an ending, and thy right hand hath laid
me low,
And if maiden and man must hearken to the tale of my
overthrow
Whose glory once rose to the heaven, then death shall my
portion be
Ere my kinsmen shall hear the story, and shall sorrow and
mourn for me!
Yet Gawain still prayed him yield him, but his will and his
mind were so 585
That he prayed God would rather take him, or slay him by this
his foe.
Thought Gawain, 'I am loth to kill him, if he swear but to do
my will
Unharmed he may go'--yet the young knight withheld him his
promise still.

Then, ere he his hand had given, the hero he bade him rise,
On the flowery mead they sat them: then Gawain he bethought
him wise, 590
(For his sorry steed it vexed him) the horse of his
vanquished foe
With spur and with rein would he test there, if 'twere good
for his need or no.
('Twas armed as beseemed a warhorse, and the covering was
fair to see,
Of velvet and silk was it fashioned, what trapping might
better be?)
Since the venture such prize had brought him, who should
hinder him in his need 595
If for his own use he took it? so he vaulted upon the steed:

And he joyed in the free, swift movement, and he cried, 'Now,
how shall this be?
Of a sooth it is thou, Gringuljet, that false Urian stole
from me.
_He_ knoweth best how he took it, and shameful I count his
deed.
Now, who thus for battle armed thee, since thou art of a
truth my steed? 600
Sure 'tis God who hath sent thee to me, and this fair gift
shall end my woe.'
Then he sprang to the ground, and he sought him the token he
well might know,
On its shoulder the Grail-Dove branded--In a joust did
Lähelein slay
Its rider, the knight of Prienlaskors, and the charger he
bare away.
Then Orilus was its master, and he gave it to knight Gawain 605
On Plimizöl's shore--greatly joyed he when the charger he won
again.

Blithe was he, and high of courage, who awhile was sad and
sore,
Yet love unto ruth constrained him, and the service so true
he bore
To the lady who yet would shame him, and his thoughts ever
toward her flew.
Then up sprang proud Lischois lightly, and his good sword he
gripped anew, 610
For it lay where Gawain had cast it when he wrested it from
his hand:
And the ladies look down on the heroes, as for combat once
more they stand.

The shields were so hacked and riven that the knights they
must cast them by,
And, shieldless, to strife betake them, and they bare them
right gallantly.
And a crowd of fair maidens o'er them from the palace window
saw 615
The strife that below was foughten: and fierce anger awoke
once more,
For too nobly born I wot me was each man that he might brook
That his fame should be lightly yielded, and maids on his
shaming look.
And helmet and sword were smitten, for shields 'gainst cold
death were they,
He who saw the heroes strive there had mourned for their toil
that day. 620
Lischois Giwellius bare him, that fair youth, as knight so
brave,
True courage, and deeds undaunted, the counsel his high heart
gave.
And many a swift blow dealt he, as quick on Gawain he sprung,
And lightly avoided from him, and his blade round his head he
swung.
But Gawain stood firm and undaunted, and he thought him,
'Now, let me hold 625
Thee once in mine arms, I'll repay thee thy dealings, thou
hero bold!'

And fiery sparks might ye look on, and the flash of the
glittering blade
Well wielded by hand of hero--Nor one in his station stayed,
For they pressed each one on the other, backward, forward, to
either side,
Yet this conflict so fierce, I wot me, did ne'er of revenge
betide, 630
And no hatred they bare to each other--Then the arms of
Gawain at last
He clasped round his gallant foeman, and the knight to the
ground he cast.
And I think, an I friendship sware here, I would shrink from
such fond embrace,
E'en tho' brotherhood it were sealing--Nor with ye would such
clasp find grace!

Then Gawain he bade him yield him, yet Lischois, who against
his will 635
Had striven when first he felled him, was all unready still.
And he quoth, 'Wherefore thus delay thee, 'tis needless, take
thou my life,
For better to die than to yield me--Since I wot well that in
this strife
The fame that was mine aforetime hath vanished beneath thy
blow,
Of God must I be accursèd, since my glory such goal doth
know! 640
For the love of fair Orgelusé have I served her with knightly
hand,
And many a knight have I felled here, for none might my arm
withstand.
Now shalt thou be heir to my glory, for it falleth to thee of
right
If thou, who my fame hath ended, here endeth my life, Sir
Knight.'

But King Lot's son he thought in this wise, 'To this deed
have I little mind, 645
My name, it shall gain small honour if this man here his
death shall find,
If for no sin of his I slay him, who is true and valiant
knight--
'Twas _her_ love that spurred him 'gainst me, for whose
favour I too would fight;
'Tis her beauty that doth constrain me, 'tis she that doth
work me woe,
Then why not, for the sake of my lady, show mercy to this my
foe? 650
If perchance for mine own I win her, if mine own such bliss
may be,
Then _he_ cannot take her from me since stronger am I than
he!
And if o'er our strife she watcheth, then she must of a
surety own
That I, who for love would serve her, true service and good
have shown!'
Then out spake the gallant Gawain, 'I were loth thy life to
take, 655
But hence will I let thee, scatheless, for fair Orgelusé's
sake!'

Weary were they, small wonder, then the fallen knight arose,
And down on the grassy meadow apart sat those gallant foes.
Then the master boatman stepped forth from the water unto the
land,
And a grey and yearling falcon he carried upon his hand. 660
This right was his o'er the meadow, who jousted upon the
plain,
The charger of him who was vanquished he did as his tribute
gain.
From his hand, who was there the victor, should he take, as a
gift, the steed,
And bowing, thank him fairly, nor stint of his praise the
meed.
And such payment he oft had taken on the flowery meadow
green, 665
Nor otherwise had his living; save at whiles, when such
chance had been,
That a bird in his falcon's clutches had fluttered in grief
and pain.
Nor plough drave he thro' those furrows, for enough did he
deem his gain.
And son of a folk so knightly was he born to a knight's
estate,
And courteous, I ween, his bearing who there on Gawain did
wait. 670

So came he unto the hero, and with courteous word and fair
He prayed of his hand the tribute, and the steed that should
be his share.
Quoth Gawain, the gallant hero, 'No merchant methinks I be
To pay here or toll or tribute, from such tax do I hold me
free!'
Then he spake out, the master boatman, 'Sir Knight, since
full many a maid 675
Hath seen thee stand here the victor, by _thee_ be my tribute
paid.
My right o'er the plain must thou own here, in knightly joust
thine hand
Hath won for mine own this charger; nor thy fame shall the
lower stand,
For he, whom thine hand o'erthrew here, the world with his
praises rung,
And with truth, unto this day's dawning, have men of his
glory sung; 680
But now he of God is stricken, and his joy hath an ending
found,
But _thou_, in his stead, I think me, with honour and fame
art crowned!'

Quoth Gawain, 'He first o'erthrew me, and I but that deed
repaid.
If tribute for joust be due here, by _him_ be that tribute
paid!
Look well on this mare, he won it, thou canst take it if such
thy will. 685
The charger that standeth by me, as mine own will I claim it
still--
Tho' never a steed be thy portion, on _that_ steed I hence
will go,
Thou speakest of _right_, wouldst thou take it, then first I
would have thee know
(Yea, thou thyself wilt own it) 'tis unfitting I take my way
Afoot, and right sore 'twould grieve me if that charger were
thine alway! 690
For to-day in the early morning it was _mine_ without doubt
or fear,
And childish thou art if thou thinkest thus lightly to win it
here!
'Twas Duke Orilus, the Burgundian, who gave me the steed of
old,
Which Urian stole this morning, and the tale thou for truth
shalt hold.
And the foal of a mule shalt thou win thee ere thy prize be
this steed of mine-- 695
Yet a fair gift in sooth will I give thee, for the _steed_
shall the _knight_ be thine,
Thou accountest him honour-worthy--if he say thee or yea or
nay,
And if well or ill it doth please him I abide by my word
alway!'

Then joyful I ween was the boatman, and with smiling lips he
spake,
'Now methinks that a gift so costly it hath ne'er been my lot
to take, 700
And I deem myself all unworthy--Yet, Sir Knight, be he mine
indeed,
Then the guerdon is more than I asked for and o'er my deserts
my meed.
For his praises they rang so clearly that five hundred steeds
all told,
Swift-footed and strong for battle, too low for his price
I'ld hold!
If a rich man thou thus wilt make me, then this thing shalt
thou do for me, 705
To my boat shalt thou captive bring him, that I hold him as
pledge from thee.'
King Lot's son he spake in answer, 'Yea this will I do, and
more,
To thy boat first, and then from out it will I lead him
within thy door,
And there will I yield him captive'--'And there will I
welcome thee!'
Spake the boatman, and low he bowed him, and thanks spake he
fair and free. 710
And he quoth, 'Dear my lord and master, if it please thee to
be my guest,
And abide in my house till the morning, then softly I'll bid
thee rest.
Nor won boatman e'er higher honour, and blest be the eventide
That seeth a knight so gallant 'neath the shade of my
roof-tree bide.'

Then out quoth Gawain, 'That will I, for in truth I had
prayed this grace, 715
For weary am I with battle, and fain would I rest a space.
She who to this sorrow led me, her sweetness she maketh sour,
And heart's joy shall be dear to purchase, and sorrow doth
crown each hour,
And the guerdon for this her service unlike to herself shall
be--
Alas! I had found a treasure, yet but loss hath it brought to
me! 720
And one breast thro' that loss now sinketh that awhile
swelled so proud and high,
When joy was from God my portion, for a heart did beneath it
lie.
Now I think me that heart hath vanished, and where shall I
comfort seek?
Shall I helpless abide that Frau Minne her wrath upon me
shall wreak?
Yea, had she the heart of a woman she would give me my joy
again 725
Who maketh her sweetness bitter, and turneth my bliss to
pain!'

Then the boatman he heard how he wrestled with sorrow, by
love constrained,
And he quoth, 'So is here the custom, in the forest as on the
plain,
As far as Klingsor ruleth, be he coward or valiant knight,
"Sad to day, to-morrow joyful," So it goeth for peace or
fight. 730
Perchance the truth thou knowst not? This land is a
wonder-land,
And ever by day and by night-time if good luck shall not aid
thine hand
Little good may thy manhood do thee! See thou how the sun
sinks low,
I think me, Sir Knight, it were better that we should to my
vessel go!'
Then Lischois he was led by Gawain, and never a word he
spake, 735
And the boatman he followed after and the steed by its rein
did take.

So sailed they across the water, and they came to the further
coast,
And the boatman he prayed Sir Gawain, 'Be thou in mine house
the host.'
And so rich was the house and stately, that scarce in King
Arthur's land,
E'en in Nantes that noble city, did a fairer dwelling stand. 740
And he led Lischois thro' the doorway, and he gave him unto
the care
Of the host and his folk--Then the boatman spake thus to his
daughter fair,
'Fair times and a goodly lodging be the lot of this noble
knight
Who standeth here, go thou with him, for I deem me it shall
be right,
And tend him as best shall seem thee, nor stint thou in aught
thy care, 745
For great good hath he brought unto us, and 'tis meet he thy
grace should share!'

To his son's care he gave the charger---Then the maiden her
sire's behest
Fulfilled as right well became her, for she led the noble
guest
To a chamber fair, where the flooring was hid 'neath a carpet
green
Of rushes and fresh-plucked blossoms, as the way of the land
had been. 750
There the gentle maid unarmed him--quoth Gawain, 'God show
grace to thee,
For had not thy sire thus bade thee too great were thy care
for me!'
And she quoth, 'For my father's bidding I do not this deed,
Sir Knight,
But rather that this my service may find favour before thy
sight.'

Then a squire, the host's son, must bear there soft cushions,
a goodly store, 755
And along the wall he laid them, and over against the door.
And a carpet he spread before them that Gawain he might seat
him there;
And as one who knew well his office a cushion so rich he
bare,
With a covering of crimson sendal, that down on the couch he
laid;
And a seat like unto the other for the host he beside it
made. 760
Came another squire and he carried fresh linen the board to
spread,
(For thus gave the host commandment,) and he bare with the
linen bread.
And the hostess she followed after, and she looked well upon
Gawain,
And she gave him a heartfelt greeting, and she spake, 'Now
such grace we gain
From thine hand we are rich henceforward as we never have
been before, 765
Sir Knight, sure our good luck waketh since such fortune it
hither bore!'

Then when they had brought him water, and the host sat beside
his guest,
With courteous mien Sir Gawain this prayer to his host
addrest,
'Now I pray let this maid eat with me,' 'Sir Knight, ne'er
was she allowed
To sit with knights, or eat with them, lest she wax of their
grace too proud. 770
And yet so much do we owe thee, loth were I to say thee nay.
So, daughter, sit thou beside him, and as he shall speak
obey!'

Then she blushed for shame all rosy, yet she did as her
father bade,
And down on the couch by Gawain sat Bené the gracious maid.
(And two stalwart sons had the boatman beside that maiden
sweet) 775
Three game-birds, I ween, that even were slain by the falcon
fleet,
And all three did they bear unto Gawain, and a broth with
herbs beside,
And the maiden she courteous served him as she sat by the
hero's side;
For she carved for him dainty morsels, and laid them on bread
so white
With her slender hands, and gently she spake to the stranger
knight, 780
'Wilt thou send a bird to my mother? for else hath she none,
I ween.'
Then gladly he told the maiden his will e'en as hers had been
In this thing as in all other--to the hostess the bird they
bare,
And they honoured the hand of the hero, nor the boatman his
thanks would spare.

Purslain and lettuce brought they, in vinegar steeped, I ween 785
Had he sought here his strength to nourish little good might
such food have been;
And if one should o'er-long feed on it then the colour it
waxeth pale,
Such pallor as truth betrayeth, if the mouth to its speaking
fail.
And if with false red it be hidden, it fadeth, and bringeth
shame,
But she who is true and steadfast she winneth the higher
fame. 790

If one by goodwill were nourished, then Gawain, he right well
had fed,
To her child naught the mother grudgeth, and as free gave the
host his bread.
Then they bare away the tables, and the hostess she bade him
rest,
And bedding I ween in plenty they brought for the gallant
guest.
And one was of down, and the covering above it of velvet
green, 795
Yet the velvet was none of the richest tho' fair had its
fashion been.
And a cushion must serve for cover, beneath it should Gawain
lie;
Nor the silk had with gold been purchased, 'twas won in far
Araby.
Of silk, too, the cunning stitching, and the linen was fair,
and white
As snow that they laid above it, and a pillow they brought
the knight. 800
And a cloak of her own she lent him, for wrapping, that
maiden fair,
'Twas new, and of ermine fashioned, and such as a prince
might wear.

Then leave the host courteous prayed him ere he laid himself
down to sleep,
And men say that alone with Sir Gawain the maiden her watch
did keep,
And I think if he more had prayed her she never had said him
Nay-- 805
Then he slept, for he well might slumber, God keep him till
dawn of day!

BOOK XI

ARNIVE

ARGUMENT

Book XI. tells how Gawain would brave the venture of the Château Marveil, and how the boatman and his daughter strove to withhold him. How Gawain came to the Castle, and of the Lit Merveil and its perils. How Gawain slew the lion, and ended the enchantments of the castle, and how he was healed of his wounds by the Queen Arnivé.