And I bargain for naught but a blow in return,
barlay:33
Yet give I him respite,
A twelvemonth and a day;
Now haste! Will any wight
Herein dare ought to say?”
XIV
If at first they were stounded, e’en stiller were then
All the athels in hall, both the high and the low.
The rider on his rouncy34 wroth him in saddle,
And rudely his red eyes rolling about him
Pucker’d his bristled brows, that blinkèd so green,
And waving his beard watch’d who would rise.
When none him accosted he cough’d very loud,
Stretch’d him with an air, and straightway gan speak:
“What! is this Arthur’s house?” quoth the athel at last,
“That the rumour runs of through realms so many?
Where are your pomp and your pride, and the prowess ye vaunt of,
Your warplay so grim, and your great talking?
Now is the revel and renown of the Round Table
By a word o’erwalted35 of one wight’s speech,
For all dote ye for dread ere a dint be offered.”36
With that he laugh’d so loud that the liege King griev’d,
And for shame the blood shot to his face so sheen
of cheer.
He wax’d as wroth as wind,
So did all that were there.
The King so bold by kind
Then stood that stalwart near,
XV
And said, “Athel, by heaven, thy asking is foolish;
And as folly thou hast sought, befalls thee to find it.
I know none that is abasht at thy boasting so big;
Give me now thy gisarm, in God’s name, I pray thee,
For gladly I grant thee the grace thou hast ask’d.”
He leapt to him lightly, and lent him his hand,
And fiercely the fell man alighted on foot.
Now Arthur has his axe, and the haulm he grips,
And sternly makes play, of his stroke thinking.
The stalwart before him stands like a tower,
Higher than ány in that hóuse by a head and far more;
With stern cheer he stands, and his beard he strokes,
Then with countenance dree37 he draws down his coat,
No more daunted or dismay’d for the dread buffet
Than if boy upon bench had brought him to drink
of wine.
Gawain from seat did rise
And to the King incline,
“I beseech you, Sir, (he cries)
This mellay might be mine.”
XVI
“Would ye now! worthy lord,” said that wight to the King,
“Bid me stir from this stall and stand by you there,
That so without villainy I void from this table?
If my liege lady liked it not ill
Before this high court I would come to your counsel.
For methinks it not seemly (’tis sooth that I say)
That the King’s own person to combat be call’d,
Though yourself be desirous to take up the suit,
While so bold men on bench about you are sitting—
And no wights in the world of will are so keen
Or have better bodies on bent, where battle is rear’d.
I am weakest, I wot, and the feeblest of wit,
And least loss were my life, would ye learn but the truth—
That my uncle ye are, is all I can plead,
And no bounty but your blood in my body I know.
This antick adventure behoves not your Highness;
To me let it fall, since first I besought it,
And if I counsel not comely, the Court shall decide,
nor blame.”
The courtiers, whispering,
Debate the double claim,
Relieve the crownèd King
And give Gawain the game.
XVII
Then commanded the King that the Knight should arise;
And he drew from his seat, and came down from the dais,
Kneel’d to the King, and claspèd the weapon;
And the liege lord releas’d it, and lifting his hand
God’s blessing him gave and gladly him bade
Both his heart and his hand right hardy to keep.
“Mind, cousin!” quoth the King, “one cut that thou give him.
And if thou fight with him fair, unafearèd, I trow,
Shalt thou dree any dint he may deal thee after.”
Then grips he the gisarm and goes to his man.
Who boldly him bides and no whit is abash’d
But speaks to Sir Gawain, that gallant in green:
“Recite we our forewards38 ere further we fare.
I conjure thee, as true Knight, that truly thou tell me
What is thy name: thy word I would have.”
“In good faith,” quoth he, “Gawain my name is
Who deal thee this dint, what doom so betide,
And at this time twelvemonth I take one of thee
With what weapon thou wilt, and no wight with me bring
alive.”
He answers him again,
“Sir Gawain, so may I thrive,
But I am wondrous fain
This dint that thou shalt drive.”
XVIII
“Egod,” quoth the green one, “right glad am I, Sir,
At thy hand to receive the service I sought;
Thou hast rightly rehears’d, by reasons full true,
All the covenant clean, that I craved of the King,
Sáve that thou assure me on thy sickar troth,
That thyself thou wilt seek me, wheresó that thou thinkest
I may be found upon fold, and fetch thee such wages
As thou deal’st me today this dais beside.”
“Whither,” said the wight, “shall I wend on that errand?
Where thou wonest I wot not, by Him that me wrought,
Nor know I thee, Sir Knight, by court or by name;
Now teach me thereto, and tell me the truth,
And áll my wít I shall wáre39 to win to thy place—
I swear it for sooth, as a sickar knight.”
“ ’Tis enough at New Year (what needs any more?)”
Said the gallant in green to the knightly Gawain,
“If I tell thee of that, when the tap I have ta’en.
When thou hast smitten me fair, I shall smartly teach thee
Of my house and my home and my ówn nàme;
Then my troth mayst thou try, and to foreward be true.
And no speech if I spend, thou speedest the better,
For thou may’st lodge in thy land, nor look any further:—
Let be!
Grip thy grim tool amain,
Thy dints now let us see.”
“Gladly, sir,” says Gawain,
And stern his axe strokes he.
XIX
The Green Knight on ground graithly40 him dresses,
A little he louts,41 to let the skin show,
His long
