Then assigns he a servant to set him i’ the way,
And conduct him by the downs (lest dole him befall),
And the forest track, where through frith he should fare,
to show.
Gawain to thank was fain
For the kindness he would do;
Then of those ladies twain
He took his leave also.
LXXIX
With kissings full sad he said his farewells,
And a húndred heártfelt thánks he had for them too;
And those lovesome ladies the like return’d him
And with careful sighings beken’d him to Christ.
He takes courteous leave of that kindly meiny;
Each man that he met, he made him a thank
For his seemly solace, and the boon service
They had been busy about him at his bidding to do:
And each servitour there was as sorry to sever
As they had wonèd for ay with the worshipful Gawain.
Then those lieges with light him led to his chamber
And brought to his bed, to be at his rest.
If he slept there soundly, say it I dare not,
For he had much on the morrow to mind, if he would,
in thought.
Let him lie there at will,
He is near the goal he sought;
If ye’ll a while be still
I shall tell you how he wrought.
Fit IV
LXXX
Now the New-Year nighs, and the night passes,
Dáy treads on dark, as deems the Almighty;
But weathers full wild in the world awaken,
Clouds strike keenly the cold to the earth,
With enough of the North the nakèd to teen.
The snow shower’d snell158 and snapèd159 the wild,
The whistling wind from the welkin smote
And drove each dale full of drifts very deep.
Oft listen’d the leal man that lay in his bed;
Though he lock’d his lids, but little he slept,
And by each cock that crew he knew well his hour.
Full early was he up, ere ány day dawn’d,
For there was light from a lamp that leam’d in his chamber;
He call’d to his chamberlain (and the call he answer’d),
And bade bring his byrnie and saddle his bay;
Then his man is afoot and fetches his weeds,
And graithes me Sir Gawain in a great fashion.
First he clad him in clothes the cold for to temper,
And eke in his harness that he had housèd with care,
Both his pounce160 and his plates, polisht full clean,
And the rings of his rich mail, scour’d of all rust;
All was fresh as at first, and fain was he then
to speed.
He had on him each piece,
Well wiped, from foulness free’d;
Gayest from here to Greece,
Gawain bade bring his steed.
LXXXI
So Gawain arrays him in raiment full rich—
His coat, with the cognisance of clear devices
Work’d upon velvet, virtuous stones
Set about by the border, embroider’d seams,
And lined full fairly with furs of the finest;
Yet he left not the lace, the lady’s guerdon,
That Gawain forgat not for good of his soul.
When he had belted his brand on his broad haunches,
Then dress’d he his druery161 double about him,
Wound round his waist that winsome lace,
The girdle of green that gaily beseem’d him
On the royal red so rich in semblance.
But not for its wealth did the wight wear it,
Or the pride of the pendants, though polisht they were,
And though the glittering gold gleam’d at the ends,
But to save his dear soul, when to suffer behoved—
To bide bale without brand or blade to defend him
at all.
Bold man! his hour is due,
He passes from the hall,
Praises that meiny true,
And often thanks withal.
LXXXII
Then was Gringolet graith, a great horse and noble;
He had been lodg’d to his liking, and lustily fed,
And him list prick for point,162 that proud horse then.
Gawain to him goes, and gazes on his coat,
And says to himself (and swears by his sooth)
“There is a meiny in this moat, that of courtesy minds;
The man that maintains them, máy he have joy,
The lady, long live she, and love her betide!
If ever for charity they cherish a guest
And offer him hostel, the hígh God reward them
That upholds the heaven, and also you all!
And if life I may lead so long upon earth,
Some guerdon I shall give you, right gladly anon.”
Then he steps into stirrup, and strides aloft;
They show him his shield, and on shoulder he girds it,
Sets goad to Gringolet with his gilded heels,
Who starts on the stones, and stands there no longer
to prance.
The squire on horse was then
That bore his spear and lance;
The castle he did beken
To Christ, and wish’d “Good Chance.”
LXXXIII
The bridge was drawn down, and the bróad gàtes
On both hands unbarr’d, and borne wide open;
And he blessèd himself and the board rode over.
He prais’d the porter, (who kneel’d to the prince,
Giving him “Good-day,” and “God save Gawain”)
Then went on his way with the wight alone
That should guide him i’ the gate to the gloomy place
Where behoved him endure the doleful onset.
They rode by banks where boughs were bare,
They clomb by cliffs where the cóld clùng;
High were the clouds, but ’twas ugly thereunder;
It mizzled on the moor, on the mountains it pour’d—
Each hill had a hat and a hood of vapour.
Brooks boil’d and broke as their banks they swept,
And shatter’d on shores where adown they shot.
Oh! wildsome was the way where by wood they should ride,
Till ’twas soon the season when the sun rises
that tide.
They were on a hill full high,
The white snow lay beside;
The squire that rode him by
Then bade the knight abide:
LXXXIV
“For I have been your squire and escorted you hither,
And ye’re now not far from the noted place
That ye have spirr’d163 and spied so specially after;
But I shall say you for sooth, seeing that I know you
And ye are a lord in land that I love full well,
Would ye work by my wit, your way were the better.
The place that ye press to, full perilous is holden;
Wones a wight in that waste, the worst upon earth,
For he strong is and stern, and to strike he loves,
And
