Medieval English Literature Reader by Denitsa Petrova

Medieval English Literature: A R E AD E R

Georgi Niagolov

Evgenia Pancheva

Georgi Niagolov Evgenia Pancheva

Medieval English Literature: A READER

Съставянето на сборника е финансирано от Фонд „Научни изследвания“ на МОН

Sofia Univerity Press

CONTENTS Beowulf (excerpt)

The Wanderer

The Dream of the Rood

Sir Orfeo

The Thrush and the Nightingale

Medieval Lyrics

Of a Rose Synge We

Alisoun

I Sing of a Maiden

Cuckoo Song (Sumer is icumen in)

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (excerpt)

Piers Plowman (excerpt)

The Canterbury Tales (excerpt)

Secunda Pastorum

Everyman

127

Le Morte Darthur (excerpt)

153

Bibliography

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BEOWULF Beowulf is generally considered the first great narrative poem composed in the English language. Due to its substantial length of 3,182 lines and its subject matter it is generically identified as a heroic epic. The poem survives in a single manuscript, British Library, Cotton Vitellius A.xv, as a part of the so called Nowell Codex – an early 11th century compendium of stories about monsters. The issue of dating and placing the work is somewhat complicated. Many of the described people and events can be linked to historical sources and traced back to the 5th and 6th centuries AD and the region of Scandinavia and Northern Germany – the very time and place from which the Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Frisians migrated to the British Isles bringing along with them a strong oral tradition of pagan heroic poetry. However, the poem, as it has come down to us, contains a profusion of Christian elements and themes which point to a later date of composition – some scholars suggest the period of intellectual and religious upsurge in the early 8th century, others prefer and even later time. This complex picture proposes yet another approach to the poem – as a text gradually evolving in time and space, spreading throughout the Anglo-Saxon period (449-1066), stretching over the North Sea, and inscribing in itself major aspects of Anglo-Saxon culture, such as its strong Germanic roots, the blending of history and legend, the sense of the fragility of civilization set against the dark forces of chaos and terror, the duty of the hero to protect social order, the growth of an accomplished warrior into a good king, the inexorable transience of power and strength, the tension between traditional pagan belief systems and the new Christian faith. From a formal point of view Beowulf is a work of exquisite craftsmanship in terms of its elaborate narrative structure, its style and its metrical organisation. It is a typical representative of Old English poetry, which as most Germanic poetry relies mainly on alliterative verse. As a rule of thumb, alliterative verse is made up of long lines each of which is divided into two half-lines (averse and b-verse) by a long pause (caesura); each half-line usually contains two accented (strongly stressed) syllables (arses, lifts, beats); the two half-lines are bound together by alliteration – i.e. usually the first accented syllable in the b-verse alliterates with one or both accented syllables in the a-verse. Another major characteristic of Old English poetry is the frequent use of particular stylistic devices termed kennings – nouns, compounds or phrases used instead of other nouns, e.g. hron-rād (whale-road, i.e. ocean) or weorðmyndum (mind’s worth, i.e. honour). -G.N

Beowulf

ða him Hroþgar gewat mid his hæleþa gedryht, eodur Scyldinga, ut of healle; wolde wigfruma Wealhþeo secan, cwen to gebeddan. Hæfde kyningwuldor 665 Grendle togeanes, swa guman gefrungon, seleweard aseted; sundornytte beheold ymb aldor Dena, eotonweard abead. Huru Geata leod georne truwode modgan mægnes, metodes hyldo. ða he him of dyde isernbyrnan, helm of hafelan, sealde his hyrsted sweord, irena cyst, ombihtþegne, ond gehealdan het hildegeatwe. Gespræc þa se goda gylpworda sum, Beowulf Geata, ær he on bed stige: “No ic me an herewæsmun hnagran talige, guþgeweorca, þonne Grendel hine; forþan ic hine sweorde swebban nelle, aldre beneotan, þeah ic eal mæge. Nat he þara goda þæt he me ongean slea, rand geheawe, þeah ðe he rof sie niþgeweorca; ac wit on niht sculon secge ofersittan, gif he gesecean dear wig ofer wæpen, ond siþðan witig god on swa hwæþere hond, halig dryhten, mærðo deme, swa him gemet þince.” Hylde hine þa heaþodeor, hleorbolster onfeng eorles andwlitan, ond hine ymb monig snellic særinc selereste gebeah. Nænig heora þohte þæt he þanon scolde eft eardlufan æfre gesecean, folc oþðe freoburh, þær he afeded wæs; ac hie hæfdon gefrunen þæt hie ær to fela micles in þæm winsele wældeað fornam, Denigea leode. Ac him dryhten forgeaf wigspeda gewiofu, Wedera leodum, frofor ond fultum, þæt hie feond heora ðurh anes cræft ealle ofercomon, selfes mihtum. Soð is gecyþed þæt mihtig god manna cynnes weold wideferhð. Com on wanre niht scriðan sceadugenga. Sceotend swæfon, þa þæt hornreced healdan scoldon, ealle buton anum. þæt wæs yldum cuþ þæt hie ne moste, þa metod nolde,

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Then Hrothgar1 went with his hero-train, defence-of-Scyldings2, forth from hall; fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow3 seek, couch of his queen. The King-of-Glory against this Grendel44 a guard had set, so heroes heard, a hall-defender5, who warded the monarch and watched for the monster. 6 In truth, the Geats’ prince gladly trusted his mettle, his might, the mercy of God! Cast off then his corselet of iron, helmet from head; to his henchman gave, choicest of weapons, – the well-chased sword, bidding him guard the gear of battle. Spake then his Vaunt the valiant man, Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought: “Of force in fight no feebler I count me, in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him. Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death his life will I give, though it lie in my power. No skill is his to strike against me, my shield to hew though he hardy be, bold in battle; we both, this night, shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here, unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God, sacred Lord, on which side soever doom decree as he deemeth right.” Reclined then the chieftain, and cheekpillows held the head of the earl, while all about him seamen hardy on hall-beds sank. None of them thought that thence their steps to the folk and fastness that fostered them, to the land they loved, would lead them back! Full well they wist that on warriors many battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall, of Danish clan. But comfort and help, war-weal weaving, to Weder folk7 the Master gave, that, by might of one, over their enemy all prevailed, by single strength. In sooth ’tis told that highest God o’er human kind hath wielded ever! – Thro’ wan night striding, came the walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, all save one. ’Twas widely known that against God’s will the ghostly ravager

1 King of the Danes, son of Healfdene, member of the royal line of the Scyldings. 2 Legendary Danish royal lineage descending from Scyld Scefing whose story is told in the first lines of the poem. 3 Queen of the Danes, wife to Hrothgar. 4 A man-eating monster who tormented king Hrothgar and his people. 5 In medieval Scandinavia and Germanic Europe the great hall of the king was the heart of the kingdom, the placewhere the best feasts and entertainment were provided and where the king’s power and ability to protect his people werefelt at their best. King Hrothgar’s hall, Heorot, was the most magnificent of its time. 6 The Geats were North Germanic people who inhabited the lands that today are southern Sweden. 7 The Weder Geats.

Beowulf

se scynscaþa under sceadu bregdan; ac he wæccende wraþum on andan bad bolgenmod beadwa geþinges. ða com of more under misthleoþum Grendel gongan, godes yrre bær; mynte se manscaða manna cynnes sumne besyrwan in sele þam hean. Wod under wolcnum to þæs þe he winreced, goldsele gumena, gearwost wisse, fættum fahne. Ne wæs þæt forma sið þæt he Hroþgares ham gesohte; næfre he on aldordagum ær ne siþðan heardran hæle, healðegnas fand. Com þa to recede rinc siðian, dreamum bedæled. Duru sona onarn, fyrbendum fæst, syþðan he hire folmum æthran; onbræd þa bealohydig, ða he gebolgen wæs, recedes muþan. Raþe æfter þon on fagne flor feond treddode, eode yrremod; him of eagum stod ligge gelicost leoht unfæger. Geseah he in recede rinca manige, swefan sibbegedriht samod ætgædere, magorinca heap. þa his mod ahlog; mynte þæt he gedælde, ærþon dæg cwome, atol aglæca, anra gehwylces lif wið lice, þa him alumpen wæs wistfylle wen. Ne wæs þæt wyrd þa gen þæt he ma moste manna cynnes ðicgean ofer þa niht. þryðswyð beheold mæg Higelaces, hu se manscaða under færgripum gefaran wolde. Ne þæt se aglæca yldan þohte, ac he gefeng hraðe forman siðe slæpendne rinc, slat unwearnum, bat banlocan, blod edrum dranc, synsnædum swealh; sona hæfde unlyfigendes eal gefeormod, fet ond folma. Forð near ætstop, nam þa mid handa higeþihtigne rinc on ræste, ræhte ongean feond mid folme; he onfeng hraþe inwitþancum ond wið earm gesæt. Sona þæt onfunde fyrena hyrde þæt he ne mette middangeardes, eorþan sceata, on elran men mundgripe maran. He on mode wearð forht on ferhðe; no þy ær fram meahte. Hyge wæs him hinfus, wolde on heolster fleon,

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him could not hurl to haunts of darkness; wakeful, ready, with warrior’s wrath, bold he bided the battle’s issue. Then from the moorland, by misty crags, with God’s wrath laden, Grendel came. The monster was minded of mankind now sundry to seize in the stately house. Under welkin he walked, till the winepalace there, gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned, flashing with fretwork. Not first time, this, that he the home of Hrothgar sought, yet ne’er in his life-day, late or early, such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found! To the house the warrior walked apace, parted from peace; the portal opended, though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had struck it, and baleful he burst in his blatant rage, the house’s mouth. All hastily, then, o’er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on, ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes fearful flashes, like flame to see. He spied in hall the hero-band, kin and clansmen clustered asleep, hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart; for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn, savage, to sever the soul of each, life from body, since lusty banquet waited his will! But Wyrd8 forbade him to seize any more of men on earth after that evening. Eagerly watched Hygelac’s kinsman9 his cursed foe, how he would fare in fell attack. Not that the monster was minded to pause! Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder, the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams, swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus the lifeless corpse was clear devoured, e’en feet and hands. Then farther he hied; for the hardy hero with hand he grasped, felt for the foe with fiendish claw, for the hero reclining, – who clutched it boldly, prompt to answer, propped on his arm. Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils that never he met in this middle-world10, in the ways of earth, another wight with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared, sorrowed in soul, – none the sooner escaped! Fain would he flee, his fastness seek,

8 In Anglo-Saxon culture Wyrd is a mythological figure that represents fate. The Old English noun derives from the verb weorþan – to become. 9 Beowulf is nephew to Hygelac – the king of the Geat 10 Middangeard, the middle world, is the conceot of the world inhabited by humans in early Germanic cosmology. 8

Beowulf

secan deofla gedræg; ne wæs his drohtoð þær swylce he on ealderdagum ær gemette. Gemunde þa se goda, mæg Higelaces, æfenspræce, uplang astod ond him fæste wiðfeng; fingras burston. Eoten wæs utweard; eorl furþur stop. Mynte se mæra, þær he meahte swa, widre gewindan ond on weg þanon fleon on fenhopu; wiste his fingra geweald on grames grapum. þæt wæs geocor sið þæt se hearmscaþa to Heorute ateah. Dryhtsele dynede; Denum eallum wearð, ceasterbuendum, cenra gehwylcum, eorlum ealuscerwen. Yrre wæron begen, reþe renweardas. Reced hlynsode. þa wæs wundor micel þæt se winsele wiðhæfde heaþodeorum, þæt he on hrusan ne feol, fæger foldbold; ac he þæs fæste wæs innan ond utan irenbendum searoþoncum besmiþod. þær fram sylle abeag medubenc monig, mine gefræge, golde geroegnad, þær þa graman wunnon. þæs ne wendon ær witan Scyldinga þæt hit a mid gemete manna ænig, betlic ond banfag, tobrecan meahte, listum tolucan, nymþe liges fæþm swulge on swaþule. Sweg up astag niwe geneahhe; Norðdenum stod atelic egesa, anra gehwylcum þara þe of wealle wop gehyrdon, gryreleoð galan godes ondsacan, sigeleasne sang, sar wanigean helle hæfton. Heold hine fæste se þe manna wæs mægene strengest on þæm dæge þysses lifes. Nolde eorla hleo ænige þinga þone cwealmcuman cwicne forlætan, ne his lifdagas leoda ænigum nytte tealde. þær genehost brægd eorl Beowulfes ealde lafe, wolde freadrihtnes feorh ealgian, mæres þeodnes, ðær hie meahton swa. Hie þæt ne wiston, þa hie gewin drugon, heardhicgende hildemecgas, ond on healfa gehwone heawan þohton, sawle secan, þone synscaðan ænig ofer eorþan irenna cyst, guðbilla nan, gretan nolde, ac he sigewæpnum forsworen hæfde, ecga gehwylcre. Scolde his aldorgedal on ðæm dæge þysses lifes

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the den of devils: no doings now such as oft he had done in days of old! Then bethought him the hardy Hygelacthane of his boast at evening: up he bounded, grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked. The fiend made off, but the earl close followed. The monster meant – if he might at all – to fling himself free, and far away fly to the fens, – knew his fingers’ power in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march to Heorot this monster of harm had made! Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft, castle-dwellers and clansmen all, earls, of their ale. Angry were both those savage hall-guards: the house resounded. Wonder it was the wine-hall firm in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth the fair house fell not; too fast it was within and without by its iron bands craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill many a mead-bench – men have told me gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled. So well had weened the wisest Scyldings that not ever at all might any man that bone-decked, brave house break asunder, crush by craft, – unless clasp of fire in smoke engulfed it11. – Again uprose din redoubled. Danes of the North with fear and frenzy were filled, each one, who from the wall that wailing heard, God’s foe sounding his grisly song, cry of the conquered, clamorous pain from captive of hell. Too closely held him he who of men in might was strongest in that same day of this our life. Not in any wise would the earls’-defence suffer that slaughterous stranger to live, useless deeming his days and years to men on earth. Now many an earl of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral, fain the life of their lord to shield, their praised prince, if power were theirs; never they knew, – as they neared the foe, hardy-hearted heroes of war, aiming their swords on every side the accursed to kill, – no keenest blade, no fairest of falchions fashioned on earth, could harm or hurt that hideous fiend! He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle, from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting on that same day of this our life

11 A proleptic reference to the future end of Heorot, which according to the poem was burnt down in the strife between Hrothgar's successors.

Beowulf

earmlic wurðan, ond se ellorgast on feonda geweald feor siðian. ða þæt onfunde se þe fela æror modes myrðe manna cynne, fyrene gefremede (he wæs fag wið god), þæt him se lichoma læstan nolde, ac hine se modega mæg Hygelaces hæfde be honda; wæs gehwæþer oðrum lifigende lað. Licsar gebad atol æglæca; him on eaxle wearð syndolh sweotol, seonowe onsprungon, burston banlocan. Beowulfe wearð guðhreð gyfeþe; scolde Grendel þonan feorhseoc fleon under fenhleoðu, secean wynleas wic; wiste þe geornor þæt his aldres wæs ende gegongen, dogera dægrim. Denum eallum wearð æfter þam wælræse willa gelumpen. Hæfde þa gefælsod se þe ær feorran com, snotor ond swyðferhð, sele Hroðgares, genered wið niðe; nihtweorce gefeh, ellenmærþum. Hæfde Eastdenum Geatmecga leod gilp gelæsted, swylce oncyþðe ealle gebette, inwidsorge, þe hie ær drugon ond for þreanydum þolian scoldon, torn unlytel. þæt wæs tacen sweotol, syþðan hildedeor hond alegde, earm ond eaxle (þær wæs eal geador Grendles grape) under geapne hrof. ða wæs on morgen mine gefræge ymb þa gifhealle guðrinc monig; ferdon folctogan feorran ond nean geond widwegas wundor sceawian, laþes lastas. No his lifgedal sarlic þuhte secga ænegum þara þe tirleases trode sceawode, hu he werigmod on weg þanon, niða ofercumen, on nicera mere fæge ond geflymed feorhlastas bær. ðær wæs on blode brim weallende, atol yða geswing eal gemenged haton heolfre, heorodreore weol. Deaðfæge deog, siððan dreama leas in fenfreoðo feorh alegde, hæþene sawle; þær him hel onfeng. þanon eft gewiton ealdgesiðas, swylce geong manig of gomenwaþe fram mere modge mearum ridan, beornas on blancum. ðær wæs Beowulfes mærðo mæned; monig oft gecwæð þætte suð ne norð be sæm tweonum ofer eormengrund oþer nænig under swegles begong selra nære rondhæbbendra, rices wyrðra. 10

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woful should be, and his wandering soul far off flit to the fiends’ domain. Soon he found, who in former days, harmful in heart and hated of God, on many a man such murder wrought, that the frame of his body failed him now. For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac held in hand; hateful alive was each to other. The outlaw dire took mortal hurt; a mighty wound showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked, and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now the glory was given, and Grendel thence death-sick his den in the dark moor sought, noisome abode: he knew too well that here was the last of life, an end of his days on earth. – To all the Danes by that bloody battle the boon had come. From ravage had rescued the roving stranger Hrothgar’s hall; the hardy and wise one had purged it anew. His night-work pleased him, his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes had the valiant Geat his vaunt made good, all their sorrow and ills assuaged, their bale of battle borne so long, and all the dole they erst endured pain a-plenty. – ’Twas proof of this, when the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down, arm and shoulder, – all, indeed, of Grendel’s gripe, – ’neath the gabled roof. Many at morning, as men have told me, warriors gathered the gift-hall round, folk-leaders faring from far and near, o'er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view, trace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed the enemy's end to any man who saw by the gait of the graceless foe how the weary-hearted, away from thence, baffled in battle and banned, his steps death-marked dragged to the devils' mere. Bloody the billows were boiling there, turbid the tide of tumbling waves horribly seething, with sword-blood hot, by that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor laid forlorn his life adown, his heathen soul, and hell received it. Home then rode the hoary clansmen from that merry journey, and many a youth, on horses white, the hardy warriors, back from the mere. Then Beowulf's glory eager they echoed, and all averred that from sea to sea, or south or north, there was no other in earth's domain, under vault of heaven, more valiant found, of warriors none more worthy to rule!

Ne hie huru winedrihten wiht ne logon, glædne Hroðgar, ac þæt wæs god cyning. Hwilum heaþorofe hleapan leton, on geflit faran fealwe mearas ðær him foldwegas fægere þuhton, cystum cuðe. Hwilum cyninges þegn, guma gilphlæden, gidda gemyndig, se ðe ealfela ealdgesegena worn gemunde, word oþer fand soðe gebunden; secg eft ongan sið Beowulfes snyttrum styrian ond on sped wrecan spel gerade, wordum wrixlan. Welhwylc gecwæð þæt he fram Sigemundes secgan hyrde ellendædum, uncuþes fela, Wælsinges gewin, wide siðas, þara þe gumena bearn gearwe ne wiston, fæhðe ond fyrena, buton Fitela mid hine, þonne he swulces hwæt secgan wolde, eam his nefan, swa hie a wæron æt niða gehwam nydgesteallan; hæfdon ealfela eotena cynnes sweordum gesæged. Sigemunde gesprong æfter deaðdæge dom unlytel, syþðan wiges heard wyrm acwealde, hordes hyrde. He under harne stan, æþelinges bearn, ana geneðde frecne dæde, ne wæs him Fitela mid. Hwæþre him gesælde ðæt þæt swurd þurhwod wrætlicne wyrm, þæt hit on wealle ætstod, dryhtlic iren; draca morðre swealt. Hæfde aglæca elne gegongen þæt he beahhordes brucan moste selfes dome; sæbat gehleod, bær on bearm scipes beorhte frætwa, Wælses eafera. Wyrm hat gemealt. Se wæs wreccena wide mærost ofer werþeode, wigendra hleo, ellendædum (he þæs ær onðah), siððan Heremodes hild sweðrode, eafoð ond ellen. He mid Eotenum wearð on feonda geweald forð forlacen, snude forsended. Hine sorhwylmas lemede to lange; he his leodum wearð, eallum æþellingum to aldorceare; swylce oft bemearn ærran mælum swiðferhþes sið snotor ceorl monig,

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(On their lord beloved they laid no slight, gracious Hrothgar: a good king he!) From time to time, the tried-in-battle their gray steeds set to gallop amain, and ran a race when the road seemed fair. From time to time, a thane of the king, who had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses, stored with sagas and songs of old, bound word to word in well-knit rime, welded his lay; this warrior soon of Beowulf's quest right cleverly sang, and artfully added an excellent tale, in well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds he had heard in saga of Sigemund12. Strange the story: he said it all, – the Waelsing's13 wanderings wide, his struggles, which never were told to tribes of men, the feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela14 only, when of these doings he deigned to speak, uncle to nephew; as ever the twain stood side by side in stress of war, and multitude of the monster kind they had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund grew, when he passed from life, no little praise; for the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed that herded the hoard: under hoary rock the atheling1515 dared the deed alone fearful quest, nor was Fitela there. Yet so it befell, his falchion pierced that wondrous worm, – on the wall it struck, best blade; the dragon died in its blood. Thus had the dread-one by daring achieved over the ring-hoard to rule at will, himself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded, and bore on its bosom the beaming gold, son of Waels; the worm was consumed. He had of all heroes the highest renown among races of men, this refuge-ofwarriors, for deeds of daring that decked his name since the hand and heart of Heremod16 grew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished to mingle with monsters at mercy of foes, to death was betrayed; for torrents ofsorrow had lamed him too long; a load of care to earls and athelings all he proved. Oft indeed, in earlier days, for the warrior's wayfaring wise men mourned,

12 Sigemund is a mythical hero famous for slaying a dragon. 13 Sigemund was the son of Waels. 14 Fitela is Sigemund's child from his sister Signy, hence both nephew and son. 15 The prince. 16 Heremod was a Danish king from the time before the Scyldings.

Beowulf

se þe him bealwa to bote gelyfde, þæt þæt ðeodnes bearn geþeon scolde, fæderæþelum onfon, folc gehealdan, hord ond hleoburh, hæleþa rice, Scyldinga. He þær eallum wearð, mæg Higelaces, manna cynne, freondum gefægra; hine fyren onwod. Hwilum flitende fealwe stræte mearum mæton. ða wæs morgenleoht scofen ond scynded. Eode scealc monig swiðhicgende to sele þam hean searowundor seon; swylce self cyning of brydbure, beahhorda weard, tryddode tirfæst getrume micle, cystum gecyþed, ond his cwen mid him

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medostigge mæt mægþa hose. Hroðgar maþelode (he to healle geong, stod on stapole, geseah steapne hrof, golde fahne, ond Grendles hond): "ðisse ansyne alwealdan þanc lungre gelimpe! Fela ic laþes gebad, grynna æt Grendle; a mæg god wyrcan wunder æfter wundre, wuldres hyrde. ðæt wæs ungeara þæt ic ænigra me weana ne wende to widan feore bote gebidan, þonne blode fah husa selest heorodreorig stod, wea widscofen witena gehwylcum ðara þe ne wendon þæt hie wideferhð leoda landgeweorc laþum beweredon scuccum ond scinnum. Nu scealc hafað þurh drihtnes miht dæd gefremede ðe we ealle ær ne meahton snyttrum besyrwan. Hwæt, þæt secgan mæg efne swa hwylc mægþa swa ðone magan cende æfter gumcynnum, gyf heo gyt lyfað, þæt hyre ealdmetod este wære bearngebyrdo. Nu ic, Beowulf, þec, secg betsta, me for sunu wylle freogan on ferhþe; heald forð tela niwe sibbe. Ne bið þe nænigra gad worolde wilna, þe ic geweald hæbbe. Ful oft ic for læssan lean teohhode, hordweorþunge hnahran rince, sæmran æt sæcce. þu þe self hafast dædum gefremed þæt þin dom lyfað awa to aldre. Alwalda þec gode forgylde, swa he nu gyt dyde!" Beowulf maþelode, bearn Ecþeowes: "We þæt ellenweorc estum miclum, feohtan fremedon, frecne geneðdon eafoð uncuþes. Uþe ic swiþor þæt ðu hine selfne geseon moste, feond on frætewum fylwerigne. c hine hrædlice heardan clammum

925

Beowulf

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who had hoped of him help from harm and bale, and had thought their sovran's son would thrive, follow his father, his folk protect, the hoard and the stronghold, heroes' land, home of Scyldings. – But here, thanes said, the kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed to all: the other was urged to crime! And afresh to the race, the fallow roads by swift steeds measured! The morning sun was climbing higher. Clansmen hastened to the high-built hall, those hardy-minded, the wonder to witness. Warden of treasure, crowned with glory, the king himself, with stately band from the bride-bower strode; and with him the queen and her crowd of maidens measured the path to the mead-house fair. Hrothgar spake, – to the hall he went, stood by the steps, the steep roof saw, garnished with gold, and Grendel's hand: "For the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler be speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows I have borne from Grendel; but God still works wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory. It was but now that I never more for woes that weighed on me waited help long as I lived, when, laved in blood, stood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, widespread woe for wise men all, who had no hope to hinder ever foes infernal and fiendish sprites from havoc in hall. This hero now, by the Wielder's might, a work has done that not all of us erst could ever do by wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say whoso of women this warrior bore among sons of men, if still she liveth, that the God of the ages was good to her in the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee, of heroes best, I shall heartily love as mine own, my son; preserve thou ever this kinship new: thou shalt never lack wealth of the world that I wield as mine! Full oft for less have I largess showered, my precious hoard, on a punier man, less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure through all the ages. As ever he did, well may the Wielder reward thee still!" Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: "This work of war most willingly we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared force of the foe. Fain, too, were I hadst thou but seen himself, what time the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall! Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe

on wælbedde wriþan þohte, þæt he for mundgripe minum scolde licgean lifbysig, butan his lic swice. Ic hine ne mihte, þa metod nolde, ganges getwæman, no ic him þæs georne ætfealh, feorhgeniðlan; wæs to foremihtig feond on feþe. Hwæþere he his folme forlet to lifwraþe last weardian, earm ond eaxle. No þær ænige swa þeah feasceaft guma frofre gebohte; no þy leng leofað laðgeteona, synnum geswenced, ac hyne sar hafað mid nydgripe nearwe befongen, balwon bendum. ðær abidan sceal maga mane fah miclan domes, hu him scir metod scrifan wille." ða wæs swigra secg, sunu Eclafes, on gylpspræce guðgeweorca, siþðan æþelingas eorles cræfte ofer heanne hrof hand sceawedon, feondes fingras. Foran æghwylc wæs, stiðra nægla gehwylc, style gelicost, hæþenes handsporu hilderinces, egl, unheoru. æghwylc gecwæð þæt him heardra nan hrinan wolde iren ærgod, þæt ðæs ahlæcan blodge beadufolme onberan wolde. ða wæs haten hreþe Heort innanweard folmum gefrætwod. Fela þæra wæs, wera ond wifa, þe þæt winreced, gestsele gyredon. Goldfag scinon web æfter wagum, wundorsiona fela secga gehwylcum þara þe on swylc starað. Wæs þæt beorhte bold tobrocen swiðe, eal inneweard irenbendum fæst, heorras tohlidene. Hrof ana genæs, ealles ansund, þe se aglæca, fyrendædum fag, on fleam gewand, aldres orwena. No þæt yðe byð to befleonne, fremme se þe wille, ac gesecan sceal sawlberendra, nyde genydde, niþða bearna, grundbuendra gearwe stowe, þær his lichoma legerbedde fæst swefeþ æfter symle. þa wæs sæl ond mæl þæt to healle gang Healfdenes sunu; wolde self cyning symbel þicgan. Ne gefrægen ic þa mægþe maran weorode ymb hyra sincgyfan sel gebæran. Bugon þa to bence blædagande, fylle gefægon; fægere geþægon medoful manig magas þara

965

on his bed of death to bind him down, that he in the hent of this hand of mine should breathe his last: but he broke away. Him I might not – the Maker willed not hinder from flight, and firm enough hold

970

the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he, the ruthless, in running! For rescue, however, he left behind him his hand in pledge, arm and shoulder; nor aught of help could the cursed one thus procure at all. None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend, sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him tightly grasped in gripe of anguish, in baleful bonds, where bide he must, evil outlaw, such awful doom as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out." More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf17 in boastful speech of his battle-deeds, since athelings all, through the earl's great prowess, beheld that hand, on the high roof gazing, foeman's fingers, – the forepart of each of the sturdy nails to steel was likest, – heathen's "hand-spear," hostile warrior's claw uncanny. 'Twas clear, they said, that him no blade of the brave could touch, how keen soever, or cut away that battle-hand bloody from baneful foe. There was hurry and hest in Heorot now for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse, the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings that were wove on the wall, and wonders many to delight each mortal that looks upon them. Though braced within by iron bands, that building bright was broken sorely; rent were its hinges; the roof alone held safe and sound, when, seared with crime, the fiendish foe his flight essayed, of life despairing. – No light thing that, the flight for safety, – essay it who will! Forced of fate, he shall find his way to the refuge ready for race of man, for soul-possessors, and sons of earth; and there his body on bed of death shall rest after revel. Arrived was the hour when to hall proceeded Healfdene's son: the king himself would sit to banquet. Ne'er heard I of host in haughtier throng more graciously gathered round giver-ofrings! Bowed then to bench those bearers-ofglory, fain of the feasting. Featly received many a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,

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17 Ecglaf's son is Unferth – the warrior who questioned Beowulf's strength in the beginning of the poem.

Beowulf

swiðhicgende on sele þam hean, Hroðgar ond Hroþulf. Heorot innan wæs freondum afylled; nalles facenstafas þeodscyldingas þenden fremedon. Forgeaf þa Beowulfe bearn Healfdenes segen gyldenne sigores to leane; hroden hildecumbor, helm ond byrnan, mære maðþumsweord manige gesawon beforan beorn beran. Beowulf geþah ful on flette; no he þære feohgyfte for sceotendum scamigan ðorfte. Ne gefrægn ic freondlicor feower madmas golde gegyrede gummanna fela in ealobence oðrum gesellan. Ymb þæs helmes hrof heafodbeorge wirum bewunden walu utan heold, þæt him fela laf frecne ne meahton scurheard sceþðan, þonne scyldfreca ongean gramum gangan scolde. Heht ða eorla hleo eahta mearas fætedhleore on flet teon, in under eoderas. þara anum stod sadol searwum fah, since gewurþad; þæt wæs hildesetl heahcyninges, ðonne sweorda gelac sunu Healfdenes efnan wolde. Næfre on ore læg widcuþes wig, ðonne walu feollon. Ond ða Beowulfe bega gehwæþres eodor Ingwina onweald geteah, wicga ond wæpna, het hine wel brucan.

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Swa manlice mære þeoden, hordweard hæleþa, heaþoræsas geald mearum ond madmum, swa hy næfre man lyhð, se þe secgan wile soð æfter rihte. 1050

kinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall, Hrothgar and Hrothulf18. Heorot now was filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings ne'er yet had tried the traitor's deed. To Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene a gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph, broidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet; and a splendid sword was seen of many borne to the brave one. Beowulf took the cup in hall: for such costly gifts he suffered no shame in that soldier throng. For I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood, with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold, on the ale-bench honoring others thus! O'er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge, wound with wires, kept ward o'er the head, lest the relict-of-files should fierce invade, sharp in the strife, when that shielded hero should go to grapple against his foes. Then the earls'-defence on the floor bade lead coursers eight, with carven head-gear, adown the hall: one horse was decked with a saddle all shining and set in jewels; 'twas the battle-seat of the best of kings, when to play of swords the son of Healfdene was fain to fare. Ne'er failed his valor in the crush of combat when corpses fell. To Beowulf over them both then gave the refuge-of-Ingwines19 right and power, o'er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them. Manfully thus the mighty prince, hoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid with steeds and treasures contemned by none who is willing to say the sooth aright.

18 Hrothgar's nephew. 19 The Ingwines are a North Germanic group of peoples inhabiting the North Sea coastal areas of Jutland, Holstein, Frisia and the Danish islands. 14

Beowulf

THE WANDERER The Old English elegy The Wanderer was probably written in the 8th c. It is part of The Codex Exoniensis, or the Exeter Book, Folios 76r-78r. The manuscript was given to Exeter Cathedral by Bishop Leofric in 1072 and practically forgotten until 1826. It contains religious poems, lyrics, elegies, riddles, sententiae and gnomic (aphoristic) verses. These includemasterpieces like Christ, Juliana, Phoenix, The Wanderer, The Seafarer, Widsith, Deor, TheRuin, The Wife’s Complaint, and The Husband’s Message. Like the rest of the Exeter Book elegies, or lyrics of lament (The Seafarer, Deor, The Wife’s Complaint, and The Husband’s Message), The Wanderer articulates the predicament of a human being, placed beyond the borders of civilisation and losing contact with kin and kind. The traditional themes of exile, literal and symbolic, and the futility of human endeavour shape the entire poem, but are most powerfully stated at its end. The Wanderer documents the miseries of a speaker, alienated from male bonding of the comitatus, or dryht, which gave the warrior his public and private identity. In the poem, the lordless man of Anglo-Saxon society tries to think of various consolations to allieviate his grief. After the failure of traditional arguments, it is the Christian perspective that offers hope: there is the “Father in Heaven” where “all security remains for us”. The eschatological perspective contains a promise of reintegration in a heavenly comitatus, where the generosityof the earthly ring-giver is replaced by the mercy of God (metudes miltse). Meanwhile, thewise man should be patient and moderate in a world ruled by transience, in the manner of Ecclesiastes. Universal decay is constructed as the will of a Creator whose ways are inscrutable and, when such conclusions are reached, the pre-Christian concept of Wyrd (Fate, the turn of events) is readily incorporated. At such points, the anonymous scop can only pose his anguished questions: Where has gone the steed? Where has gone the man?

Where has gone the giver of treasure? Where the place of the banquets?

Where are the pleasures of the hall? Alas, the gleaming chalice, alas the armoured

warrior, alas the majesty of the prince ...

Storms beat upon these heaps of stone (...)

All is hardship on earth.

In structural terms, the poem falls into a number of moves. First, the poetic persona introduces the subject (ll. 1-7). Next, a different poetic voice starts soliliquising about his personal experience on the seas (ll. 8-87). The so called "the cleavage" of line 88 marks another transition: after a brief intrusion of the framing lyrical voice (ll. 88-91), the poem reproduces that of the wise man. In the recognisable manner of the Ubi sunt, he philosophises on a world seized by mutability and decay. The third move of the poem (111-115) reactivates the framing voice who drives home its ultimate Christian message.

-E.P.

The Wanderer

Oft him anhaga are gebideð, metudes miltse, þeah þe he modcearig geond lagulade longe sceolde hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ wadan wræclastas. Wyrd bið ful aræd! Swa cwæð eardstapa, earfeþa gemyndig, wraþra wælsleahta, winemæga hryre: Oft ic sceolde ana uhtna gehwylce mine ceare cwiþan. Nis nu cwicra nan þe ic him modsefan minne durre sweotule asecgan. Ic to soþe wat þæt biþ in eorle indryhten þeaw, þæt he his ferðlocan fæste binde, healde his hordcofan, hycge swa he wille. Ne mæg werig mod wyrde wiðstondan, ne se hreo hyge helpe gefremman. Forðon domgeorne dreorigne oft in hyra breostcofan bindað fæste; swa ic modsefan minne sceolde, oft earmcearig, eðle bidæled, freomægum feor feterum sælan, siþþan geara iu goldwine minne hrusan heolstre biwrah, ond ic hean þonan wod wintercearig ofer waþema gebind, sohte seledreorig sinces bryttan, hwær ic feor oþþe neah findan meahte þone þe in meoduhealle mine wisse, oþþe mec freondleasne frefran wolde, weman mid wynnum. Wat se þe cunnað hu sliþen bið sorg to geferan þam þe him lyt hafað leofra geholena: warað hine wræclast, nales wunden gold, ferðloca freorig, nalæs foldan blæd. Gemon he selesecgas ond sincþege, hu hine on geoguðe his goldwine wenede to wiste. Wyn eal gedreas! Forþon wat se þe sceal his winedryhtnes leofes larcwidum longe forþolian:

Often the solitary one finds grace for himself the mercy of the Lord1, although he, sorryhearted, must for a long time move by hand2 along the ice-cold3 sea, tread the paths of exile. Events always go as they must4! So spoke the wanderer, mindful of hardships, of fierce slaughters and the downfall of kinsmen: Often5 I had alone to speak of my trouble each morning before dawn. There is none now living to whom I dare clearly speak of my innermost thoughts. I know it truly, that it is in men a noble custom, that one should keep secure his spirit-chest6, guard his treasure-chamber7,think as he wishes. The weary spirit cannot withstand fate, nor does a rough or sorrowful mind do any good8. Thus those eager for glory often keep secure dreary thoughts in their breast; So I, often wretched my inmost thoughts sorrowful, bereft of my homeland, far from noble kinsmen, had to bind in fetters. Since long years ago I hid my lord in the darkness of the earth, and I, wretched, from there travelled most sorrowfully over the frozen waves, sought, sad at the lack of a hall, a giver of treasure, where I, far or near, might find one in the meadhall who knew my people, or wished to console the friendless one, me, entertain (me) with delights. He who has tried it knows how cruel is sorrow as a companion to the one who has few beloved friends: the path of exile holds him, not at all twisted gold, a frozen spirit, not the bounty of the earth. He remembers hall-warriors and the giving of treasure How in youth his lord9 accustomed him to the feasting. All the joy has died! And so he knows it, he who must forgo

1 The text manifests an awareness of the Chistian scheme of things. 2 row 3 The original has hrimcealde = ice-cold, which is a typical instance of the compound adjectives characteristic of Old English verse. 4 The original has Wyrd – the Anglo-Saxon concept or turn of events, denotes a fatalistic, pre-Christian determinism. 5 or always 6 mind 7 thoughts 8 perform anything helpful 9 goldwine = gold-friend, a typical instance of the kenning, the compressed metaphor of old English verse. 16

The Wanderer

ðonne sorg ond slæð somod ætgædre earmne anhogan oft gebindað. þinceð him on mode þæt he his mondryhten clyppe ond cysse, ond on cneo lecge honda ond heafod, swa he hwilum ær in geardagum giefstolas breac. Ðonne onwæcneð eft wineleas guma, gesihð him biforan fealwe wegas, baþian brimfuglas, brædan feþra, hreosan hrim ond snaw hagle gemenged. Þonne beoð þy hefigran heortan benne, sare æfter swæsne. Sorg bið geniwad

þonne maga gemynd mod geondhweorfeð; greteð gliwstafum, georne geondsceawað secga geseldan; swimmað oft on weg fleotendra ferð no þær fela bringeð cuðra cwidegiedda. Cearo bið geniwad þam þe sendan sceal swiþe geneahh ofer waþema gebind werigne sefan. Forþon ic geþencan ne mæg geond þas woruld for hwan modsefa min ne gesweorce þonne ic eorla lif eal geondþence, hu hi færlice flet ofgeafon, modge maguþegnas. Swa þes middangeard ealra dogra gehwam dreoseð ond fealleð; forþon ne mæg weorþan wis wer, ær he age wintra dæl in woruldrice. Wita sceal geþyldig, ne sceal no to hatheort ne to hrædwyrde, ne to wac wiga ne to wanhydig, ne to forht ne to fægen, ne to feohgifre ne næfre gielpes to georn, ær he geare cunne. Beorn sceal gebidan, þonne he beot spriceð, oþþæt collenferð cunne gearwe hwider hreþra gehygd hweorfan wille. Ongietan sceal gleaw hæle hu gæstlic bið, þonne ealre þisse worulde wela weste stondeð, swa nu missenlice geond þisne middangeard winde biwaune weallas stondaþ, hrime bihrorene, hryðge þa ederas. Woriað þa winsalo, waldend licgað dreame bidrorene, duguþ eal gecrong, wlonc bi wealle. Sume wig fornom, ferede in forðwege, sumne fugel oþbær ofer heanne holm, sumne se hara wulf deaðe gedælde, sumne dreorighleor in eorðscræfe eorl gehydde.

for a long time the counsels of his beloved lord: Then sorrow and sleep both together often tie up the wretched solitary one. He thinks in his mind that he his lord embraces and kisses, and on his knees10 lays his hands and his head, Just as, at times before, in days gone by, he enjoyed the gift-seat11. Then the friendless man wakes up again, He sees before him fallow waves Sea birds bathe, preening their feathers, Frost and snow fall, mixed with hail. Then are the heavier the wounds of the heart, grievous with longing for the lord. Sorrow is renewed when the mind surveys the memory of kinsmen; He greets them joyfully, eagerly scans the companions of men; they always swim away. The spirits of seafarers never bring back there much in the way of known speech. Care is renewed for the one who must send every often over the binding of the waves a weary heart. Indeed I cannot think why my spirit does not darken when I ponder on the whole life of men throughout the world, How they suddenly left the floor, the proud thanes. So this middle-earth, a bit each day, droops and decays Therefore man can't call himself wise, before he has a share of years in the world. A wise man must be patient, He must never be too impulsive nor too hasty of speech, nor too weak a warrior nor too reckless, nor too fearful, nor too cheerful, nor too greedy for goods, nor ever too eager for boasts, before he sees clearly. A man must wait when he speaks oaths, until the proud-hearted one sees clearly whither the intent of his heart will turn. A wise hero must realize how terrible it will be, When all the wealth in this world lies waste, as now in various places throughout this middle-earth walls stand, blown by the wind, covered with frost, storm-swept the buildings. The halls decay, their lords lie deprived of joy, the whole troop has fallen, the proud ones, by the wall. War took off some, carried them on their way, one, the bird took off across the deep sea, one, the gray wolf shared one with death, one, the dreary-faced man buried in a grave.

10 the lord’s knees 11 The original has giefstola = gift-stool, throne.

The Wanderer

Yþde swa þisne eardgeard

ælda scyppend

oþþæt burgwara breahtma lease eald enta geweorc idlu stodon. Se þonne þisne wealsteal wise geþohte ond þis deorce lif deope geondþenceð, frod in ferðe, feor oft gemon wælsleahta worn, ond þas word acwið: Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa? Hwær cwom symbla gesetu? Hwær sindon seledreamas? Eala beorht bune! Eala byrnwiga!

Eala þeodnes þrym! Hu seo þrag gewat, genap under nihthelm, swa heo no wære. Stondeð nu on laste

leofre duguþe

weal wundrum heah,

wyrmlicum fah.

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Eorlas fornoman asca þryþe, wæpen wælgifru, wyrd seo mære, ond þas stanhleoþu stormas cnyssað, hrið hreosende wintres woma, nipeð nihtscua,

hrusan bindeð, þonne won cymeð, norþan onsendeð

hreo hæglfare hæleþum on andan. Eall is earfoðlic eorþan rice, onwendeð wyrda gesceaft weoruld under heofonum. Her bið feoh læne, her bið freond læne, her bið mon læne, her bið mæg læne, eal þis eorþan gesteal idel weorþeð! Swa cwæð snottor on mode, gesæt him sundor æt rune. Til biþ se þe his treowe gehealdeþ, ne sceal næfre his torn to rycene beorn of his breostum acyþan, nemþe he ær þa bote cunne, eorl mid elne gefremman. Wel bið þam þe him are seceð, frofre to Fæder on heofonum, þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð.

The Wanderer

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And so He destroyed this city, He, the Creator of Men, until deprived of the noise of the citizens, the ancient work of giants stood empty. He who thought wisely on this foundation, and pondered deeply on this dark life, wise in spirit, remembered often from afar many conflicts, and spoke these words: Where is the horse gone? Where the rider? Where the giver of treasure? Where are the seats at the feast? Where are the revels in the hall? Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior! Alas for the splendour of the prince! How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it had never been! Now there stands in the trace of the beloved troop a wall, wondrously high, wound round with serpents. The warriors taken off by the glory of spears, the weapons greedy for slaughter, the famous fate, and storms beat these rocky cliffs, falling frost fetters the earth, the harbinger of winter; Then dark comes, nightshadows deepen, from the north there comes a rough hailstorm in malice against men. All is troublesome in this earthly kingdom, the turn of events changes the world under the heavens. Here money is fleeting, here friends are fleeting, here man is fleeting, here kinsman is fleeting, all the foundation of this world turns to waste! So spake the wise man in his mind, where he sat apart in counsel. unless he already knows the remedy – a hero must act with courage. Good is he who keeps his faith, And a warrior must never speak his grief of his breast too quickly, It is better for the one that seeks mercy, consolation from the father in the heavens, where, for us, all permanence rests.

THE DREAM OF THE ROOD The Dream of the Rood is an early Christian poem written in Old English alliterative verse. It hascome down to us in a single manuscript contained in the Vercelli Book – a 10th century collection of religious poetry from the Anglo-Saxon period, discovered in 1832 in the cathedral of Vercelli in northern Italy. Fragments from the text also survive in runes and Latin script carved into an 8th century Anglo-Saxon stone cross situated in Ruthwell, Scotland. The poem is structured as a dream vision – a popular medieval convention, deeply rooted in both the biblical and the classical traditions, which allows safeguarding the authoritative stance of a work while proposing a new angle on the subject matter. The story is told through a complex layering of perspectives – the reader of the poem is addressed by a first person narrator, who relates his dream, in which the Saviour’s Cross (rod) speaks to him and tells him the story of the crucifixion of Jesus from its own point of view. This structure enables the use of two central rhetorical figures which sustain the overall poetic effect of The Dream – ekphrasis (a dramatic description of a work of art) and prosopopoeia (personification of an object and making it speak for itself). The poem employs the former when the dreamer makes a very detailed description of the magnificent vision of the resurrected cross which penetrates the ornate surface and leads to a powerful understanding of the suffering that lies beneath. This persistent scrutiny of the vision builds up to a revelationary experience, realised in the text by means of the latter rhetorical figure, in which the seemingly inanimate object speaks to the dreamer. Telling the story of Christ’s Passion from this point of view, the poem manages to approximate the relationship between the cross and Jesus to that between a noble thane and his lord. Out of its loyalty to the Saviour the cross must suppress its intuitive duty to protect him and suffer to become the instrument of his torture and murder, thus aiding him to redeem mankind and gaining a place in heaven. -G.N.

Hwæt, ic swefna cyst secgan wylle, hwæt me gemætte to midre nihte, syðþan reordberend reste wunedon. þuhte me þæt ic gesawe syllicre treow on lyft lædan leohte bewunden, beama beorhtost. Eall þæt beacen wæs begoten mid golde. Gimmas stodon fægere æt foldan sceatum, swylce þær fife wæron

Lo! choicest of dreams I will relate, What dream I dreamt in middle of night When mortal men1 reposed in rest. Methought I saw a wondrous wood Tower aloft with light bewound, Brightest of trees; that beacon was all Begirt with gold; jewels were standing Fair at surface of earth, likewise were there five

1 Literally OE reordberend means “voice-bearer”, i.e. human being. The choice of kenning here foreshadows the fact that later on in the poem the Holy Cross becomes reordberend.

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uppe on þam eaxlgespanne. Beheoldon þær engel dryhtnes ealle, fægere þurh forðgesceaft. Ne wæs ðær huru fracodes gealga, ac hine þær beheoldon halige gastas, men ofer moldan ond eall þeos mære gesceaft. Syllic wæs se sigebeam, ond ic synnum fah, forwunded mid wommum. Geseah ic wuldres treow, wædum geweorðod wynnum scinan, gegyred mid golde; gimmas hæfdon bewrigen weorðlice wealdendes treow. Hwæðre ic þurh þæt gold ongytan meahte earmra ærgewin, þæt hit ærest ongan swætan on þa swiðran healfe. Eall ic wæs mid sorgum gedrefed, forht ic wæs for þære fægran gesyhðe. Geseah ic þæt fuse beacen wendan wædum ond bleom; hwilum hit wæs mid wætan bestemed, beswyled mid swates gange, hwilum mid since gegyrwed. Hwæðre ic þær licgende lange hwile beheold hreowcearig hælendes treow, oð ðæt ic gehyrde þæt hit hleoðrode. Ongan þa word sprecan wudu selesta: ‘Þæt wæs geara iu, (ic þæt gyta geman), þæt ic wæs aheawen holtes on ende, astyred of stefne minum. Genaman me ðær strange feondas, geworhton him þær to wæfersyne, heton me heora wergas hebban. Bæron me þær beornas on eaxlum, oððæt hie me on beorg asetton, gefæstnodon me þær feondas genoge. Geseah ic þa frean mancynnes efstan elne micle, þæt he me wolde on gestigan. Þær ic þa ne dorste ofer dryhtnes word bugan oððe berstan, þa ic bifian geseah eorðan sceatas. Ealle ic mihte feondas gefyllan, hwæðre ic fæste stod. Ongyrede hine þa geong hæleð, (þæt wæs god ælmihtig), strang ond stiðmod. Gestah he on gealgan heanne, modig on manigra gesyhðe, þa he wolde mancyn lysan. Bifode ic þa me se beorn ymbclypte. Ne dorste ic hwæðre bugan to eorðan, feallan to foldan sceatum, ac ic sceolde fæste standan. Rod wæs ic aræred. Ahof ic ricne cyning, heofona hlaford, hyldan me ne dorste.

Above on the shoulder-brace. All angels of God beheld it, Fair through future ages; 'twas no criminal's cross indeed, But holy spirits beheld it there, Men upon earth, all this glorious creation. Strange was that victor-tree, and stained with sins was I, With foulness defiled. I saw the glorious tree With vesture adorned winsomely shine, Begirt with gold; bright gems had there Worthily decked the tree of the Lord. Yet through that gold I might perceive Old strife of the wretched, that first it gave Blood on the right side2. With sorrows was I oppressed, Afraid for that fair sight; I saw the ready beacon Change in vesture and hue; at times with moisture covered, Soiled with course of blood; at times with treasure adorned. Yet lying there a longer while, Beheld I sad the Saviour's tree Until I heard that words it uttered; The best of woods gan speak these words: "'Twas long ago (I remember it still) That I was hewn at end of a grove, Stripped from off my stem; strong foes laid hold of me there, Wrought for themselves a show, bade felons raise me up; Men bore me on their shoulders, till on a mount they set me; Enemies many fixed me there. Then saw I mankind's Lord Hasten with great might, for he would climb upon me. There durst I not 'gainst word of the Lord Bow down or break, when saw I tremble The surface of earth; I might then all My foes have felled, yet fast I stood. The Hero young begirt Himself (Almighty God was He), Strong and stern of mind; He climbed on the gallows high, Weary in sight of many, for mankind He would redeem. I shook when the Hero clasped me, yet durst not bow to earth, Fall to surface of earth, but firm I must there stand. A rood was I upreared; I bore the mighty King, The Lord of Heaven; I durst not bend me.

2 John 19:31-37 tells us that Christ was pierced with a spear in his right side while he was on the cross. 20

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Þurhdrifan hi me mid deorcan næglum. On me syndon þa dolg gesiene, opene inwidhlemmas. Ne dorste ic hira ænigum sceððan. Bysmeredon hie unc butu ætgædere. Eall ic wæs mid blode bestemed, begoten of þæs guman sidan, siððan he hæfde his gast onsended. ‘Feala ic on þam beorge gebiden hæbbe wraðra wyrda. Geseah ic weruda god þearle þenian. Þystro hæfdon bewrigen mid wolcnum wealdendes hræw, scirne sciman, sceadu forð eode, wann under wolcnum. Weop eal gesceaft, cwiðdon cyninges fyll. Crist wæs on rode. Hwæðere þær fuse feorran cwoman to þam æðelinge. Ic þæt eall beheold. Sare ic wæs sorgum gedrefed, hnag ic hwæðre þam secgum to handa, eaðmod elne mycle. Genamon hie þær ælmihtigne god, ahofon hine of ðam hefian wite. Forleton me þa hilderincas standan steame bedrifenne; eall ic wæs mid strælum forwundod. Aledon hie þær limwerigne, gestodon him æt his lices heafdum, beheoldon hie þær heofenes dryhten, ond he hine þær hwile reste, meðe æfter ðam miclan gewinne. Ongunnon him þa moldern wyrcan beornas on banan gesyhðe; curfon hie ðæt of beorhtan stane, gesetton hie ðæron sigora wealdend. Ongunnon him þa sorhleoð galan earme on þa æfentide, þa hie woldon eft siðian, meðe fram þam mæran þeodne. Reste he ðær mæte weorode. Hwæðere we ðær greotende gode hwile stodon on staðole, syððan stefn up gewat hilderinca. Hræw colode, fæger feorgbold. Þa us man fyllan ongan ealle to eorðan. Þæt wæs egeslic wyrd! Bedealf us man on deopan seaþe. Hwæðre me þær dryhtnes þegnas, freondas gefrunon, ond gyredon me golde ond seolfre. ‘Nu ðu miht gehyran, hæleð min se leofa, þæt ic bealuwara weorc gebiden hæbbe, sarra sorga. Is nu sæl cumen þæt me weorðiað wide on side menn ofer moldan, ond eall þeos mære gesceaft, gebiddaþ him to þyssum beacne. On me bearn godes

They drove their dark nails through me; The wounds are seen upon me, The open gashes of guile; I durst harm none of them. They mocked us both together; all moistened with blood was I, Shed from side of the man, when forth He sent His spirit. Many have I on that mount endured Of cruel fates; I saw the Lord of Hosts Strongly outstretched; darkness had then Covered with clouds the corpse of the Lord, The brilliant brightness; the shadow continued, Wan 'neath the welkin. There wept all creation, Bewailed the King's death; Christ on the cross. Yet hastening thither they came from afar To the Son of the King: that all I beheld. Sorely with sorrows was I oppressed; yet I Bowed 'neath the hands of men, Lowly with mickle might. Took they there Almighty God, Him raised from the heavy torture; the warriors left me To stand bedrenched with blood; all wounded with darts was I. There laid they the weary of limb, at head of His corpse they stood, Beheld the Lord of Heaven, and He rested Him there awhile, Worn from much war. Began they an sepulcher to work, Men in the murderers' sight, carved it of brightest stone, Placed therein victories' Lord. Began sad songs to sing The wretched at eventide; then would they back return Mourning from the mighty prince; all lonely rested He there. Yet weeping we then a longer while Stood at our station: the voice arose Of battle-warriors; the corpse grew cold, Fair house of life. Then one began to hew Us all to earth; 'twas a fearful fate! One buried us in deep pit, yet of me the thanes of the Lord, His friends, heard tell; [from earth they raised me], And me begirt with gold and silver. Now thou mayst hear, my dearest man, That bale of woes have I endured, Of sorrows sore. Now the time is come, That me shall honor both far and wide Men upon earth, and all this mighty creation Will pray to this beacon. On me God's Son

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þrowode hwile. Forþan ic þrymfæst nu 85 hlifige under heofenum, ond ic hælan mæg æghwylcne anra, þara þe him bið egesa to me. Iu ic wæs geworden wita heardost, leodum laðost, ærþan ic him lifes weg rihtne gerymde, reordberendum. 90 Hwæt, me þa geweorðode wuldres ealdor ofer holtwudu, heofonrices weard! Swylce swa he his modor eac, Marian sylfe, ælmihtig god for ealle menn geweorðode ofer eall wifa cynn. 95 ‘Nu ic þe hate, hæleð min se leofa, þæt ðu þas gesyhðe secge mannum, onwreoh wordum þæt hit is wuldres beam, se ðe ælmihtig god on þrowode for mancynnes manegum synnum 100 ond Adomes ealdgewyrhtum. Deað he þær byrigde, hwæðere eft dryhten aras mid his miclan mihte mannum to helpe. He ða on heofanas astag. Hider eft fundaþ on þysne middangeard mancynn secan 105 on domdæge dryhten sylfa, ælmihtig god, ond his englas mid, þæt he þonne wile deman, se ah domes geweald, anra gehwylcum swa he him ærur her on þyssum lænum life geearnaþ. 110 Ne mæg þær ænig unforht wesan for þam worde þe se wealdend cwyð. Frineð he for þære mænige hwær se man sie, se ðe for dryhtnes naman deaðes wolde biteres onbyrigan, swa he ær on ðam beame dyde. Ac hie þonne forhtiað, ond fea þencað hwæt hie to Criste cweðan onginnen. Ne þearf ðær þonne ænig anforht wesan þe him ær in breostum bereð beacna selest, ac ðurh ða rode sceal rice gesecan of eorðwege æghwylc sawl, seo þe mid wealdende wunian þenceð." Gebæd ic me þa to þam beame bliðe mode, elne mycle, þær ic ana wæs mæte werede. Wæs modsefa afysed on forðwege, feala ealra gebad langunghwila. Is me nu lifes hyht þæt ic þone sigebeam secan mote ana oftor þonne ealle men, well weorþian. Me is willa to ðam mycel on mode, ond min mundbyrd is geriht to þære rode. Nah ic ricra feala freonda on foldan, ac hie forð heonon gewiton of worulde dreamum, sohton him wuldres cyning, lifiaþ nu on heofenum mid heahfædere, 22

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Suffered awhile; so glorious now I tower to Heaven, and I may heal Each one of those who reverence me; Of old I became the hardest of pains, Loathed by people, the way of life, Right way, I prepared for mortal men. Lo! the Lord of Glory honored me then Above the grove, the guardian of Heaven, As He His mother, even Mary herself, Almighty God before all men Worthily honored above all women. Now thee I bid, my dearest man, That thou this sight shalt say to men, Reveal in words, 'tis the tree of glory, On which once suffered Almighty God For the many sins of all mankind, And also for Adam's misdeeds of old. Death tasted He there; yet the Lord arose With His great might for help to men. Then stied He to Heaven; again shall come Upon this mid-earth to seek mankind At the day of doom the Lord Himself, Almighty God, and His angels with Him; Then He will judge, who hath right of doom, Each one of men as here before In this vain life he hath deserved. No one may there be free from fear In view of the word that the Judge will speak. He will ask 'fore the crowd, where is the man Who for name of the Lord would bitter death Be willing to taste, as He did on the tree. But then they will fear, and few will bethink them What they to Christ may venture to say. Then need there no one be filled with fear Who bears in his breast the best of beacons; But through the rood a kingdom shall seek From earthly way each single soul That with the Lord thinketh to dwell. "Then I prayed to the tree with joyous heart, With mickle might, when I was alone With small attendance; the thought of my mind For the journey was ready; I've lived through many hours of longing. Now 'tis hope of my life That the victory-tree I am able to seek, Oftener than all men I alone may Honor it well; my will to that Is mickle in mind, and my plea for protection To the rood is directed. I've not many mighty Of friends on earth; but hence went they forth From joys of the world, sought glory's King; Now live they in Heaven with the Father on high,

wuniaþ on wuldre, ond ic wene me daga gehwylce hwænne me dryhtnes rod, þe ic her on eorðan ær sceawode, on þysson lænan life gefetige ond me þonne gebringe þær is blis mycel, dream on heofonum, þær is dryhtnes folc geseted to symle, þær is singal blis, ond me þonne asette þær ic syððan mot wunian on wuldre, well mid þam halgum dreames brucan. Si me dryhten freond, se ðe her on eorðan ær þrowode on þam gealgtreowe for guman synnum. He us onlysde ond us lif forgeaf, heofonlicne ham. Hiht wæs geniwad mid bledum ond mid blisse þam þe þær bryne þolodan. Se sunu wæs sigorfæst on þam siðfate, mihtig ond spedig, þa he mid manigeo com, gasta weorode, on godes rice, anwealda ælmihtig, englum to blisse ond eallum ðam halgum þam þe on heofonum ær wunedon on wuldre, þa heora wealdend cwom, ælmihtig god, þær his eðel wæs.

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In glory dwell, and I hope for myself On every day when the rood of the Lord, Which here on earth before I viewed, In this vain life may fetch me away And bring me then, where bliss is mickle, Joy in the Heavens, where the folk of the Lord Is set at the feast, where bliss is eternal; And may He then set me where I may hereafter In glory dwell, and well with the saints Of joy partake. May the Lord be my friend, Who here on earth suffered before On the gallows-tree for the sins of man! He us redeemed, and gave to us life, A heavenly home. Hope was renewed, With blessing and bliss, for the sufferers of burning. The Son was victorious on that fateful journey, Mighty and happy, when He came with a many, With a band of spirits to the kingdom of God, The Ruler Almighty, for joy to the angels And to all the saints, who in Heaven before In glory dwelt, when their Ruler came, Almighty God, where was His home.

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SIR ORFEO About 50 or 60 in number, the extant romances of medieval England were written between the late 13th and the early 15th century. Narratives reshaped in the process of transmission, they are best understood as belonging to a common intertextual space. At many points, romances frequently echo recognisable myths and archetypes. Originally meant for recital, romances gradually became poetry for private reading, until, in the 15th century, they were transformed by authors like Malory into prose stories circulated by the printing press. Probably an adaptation of a French Breton lay, the anonymous Middle English Sir Orfeo was composed about 1330 in the East Midlands. It is found in the Auchinleck manuscript (ca.1330-45), one of our major sources for this genre, and a miscellany Chaucer may have owned. The poem is composed in beautifully managed octosyllabic couplets. Defining itself as a Breton lay, Sir Orfeo is a strikingly anachronistic rewriting of the classical story of Orpheus and Eurydice, found in Ovid's Metamorphoses X and Virgil's Georgics IV. The medieval poet refashions the story in the terms of the Celtic folk-tale. In his rendition, Sir Orfeo's beloved Heurodis is, like people in the Irish aithed, or abduction narratives, abducted by the Fairy King. Rather than to the Greek Hades, she is taken to the Celtic Otherworld, from where, after a journey, reminiscent of Celtic narratives, Sir Orfeo eventually brings her back. Producing what Jeff Rider has called "a hybrid super-myth,"1 the romance also implicitly echoes Christian appropriations of Ovid and Virgil, which imagine Orpheus is a Christ-like redeemer. One such reading is offered by Pierre Bersuire's contemporaneous Reductorium Morale (c. 1325-1337): Let us speak allegorically and say that Orpheus, the child of the sun, is Christ the son of God the Father, who from the beginning led Eurydice, that is, the human soul to himself. And from the beginning Christ joined her to himself through his special prerogative. But the devil, a serpent, drew near the new bride, that is, created de novo, while she collected flowers that is, while she seized the forbidden apple, and bit her by temptation and killed her by sin, and finally she went to the world below. Seeing this, Christ-Orpheus wished himself to descend to the lower world and thus he retook his wife, that is, human nature, ripping her from the hands of the ruler of Hell himself; and he led her with him to the upper world, saying this verse from Canticles 2:10, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.2 Along with its ahistorical myth-making, the narrative is also remarkable for its self-reflexive stance.

1 Originally Published in The Middle English Breton Lays Kalamazoo, Michigan: Medieval Institute Publications, 1995. 2 Ibid.

Sir Orfeo

Self-reflexivity in the poem creates a major displacement from the tradition of romance: Sir Orfeo is a virtuoso harper king rather than a knight errant, and his art makes listeners think they are in Paradise. Through Orfeo's minstrelsy, and the central symbol of the harp, the fictional world of romance and the real world of its audience are powerfully brought together, just as the gap between court and wilderness within the text is bridged by its presence in both. Proven to transcend territorialisation, the minstrel's art is thus powerfully extolled. A-topically, Orfeo's seat is in Traciens, which, according to the poet, is the ancient name of Winchester. On a May day, Orfeo's queen Dame Heurodis, “the fairest levedi”, goes to play in the orchard and falls asleep under an “ympe-tre”. When she awakens, she behaves distractedly, as she has been told by a fairy knight that she will soon be snatched from this world. Allegorising on death, the poem goes on to finely probe into Heurodis’ psychological state, on the verge of dying, in the very prime of nature and youth. When Dame Heurodis is taken, Orfeo falls into a deep melancholy, goes to the woods and becomes a hermit, feeding on berries and bark. There, one day, he sees his wife in a fine procession of “sexti levedis on hors”, who vanish into a rock. Following them, Orfeo reaches a green land that looks like “the proude court of Paradis” (376). He then charms the Fairy King with his minstrelsy, and, in reward for it (the "rash boon" of folk-tales) gets back his wife. Abandoning the condition that Orpheus should not glance back on Euridyce before they leave the underworld, the romance concludes on a happy note. Orpheus's inability to observe the ban on looking backwards and his loss of his beloved were read by Christian exegetes as standing for humanity's sinful nature. The romance's protagonist, however, is rendered strikingly exempt from the temptation and his potential of a Christ figure is thus further highlighted -E.P.

We redeth oft and findeth y- write, And this clerkes wele it wite, Layes that ben in harping Ben y-founde of ferli thing: Sum bethe of wer and sum of wo, And sum of joie and mirthe also, And sum of trecherie and of gile, Of old aventours that fel while; And sum of bourdes and ribaudy, And mani ther beth of fairy. Of al thinges that men seth, Mest o love, forsothe, they beth. In Breteyne this layes were wrought,

written1 these scholars; know are in song composed; of marvelous things some are of war; grief gaiety guile adventures; happened once jokes; ribaldry the Otherworld2 relate most of; in truth Brittany these; made

1 The Prologue echoes Marie de France's Prologue to her collection of Lais. 2 "Fairy" denotes the land of fays.

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First y-founde and forth y-brought, Of aventours that fel bi dayes, Wherof Bretouns maked her layes. When kinges might our y-here Of ani mervailes that ther were, Thai token an harp in gle and game And maked a lay and gaf it name. Now of this aventours that weren y-falle Y can tel sum, ac nought alle. Ac herkneth, lordinges that ben trewe, Ichil you telle of "Sir Orfewe." Orfeo mest of ani thing Lovede the gle of harping. Siker was everi gode harpour Of him to have miche honour. Himself he lerned forto harp, And leyd theron his wittes scharp; He lerned so ther nothing was A better harpour in no plas. In al the warld was no man bore That ones Orfeo sat bifore And he might of his harping here Bot he schuld thenche that he were In on of the joies of Paradis, Swiche melody in his harping is. Orfeo was a king, In Inglond an heighe lording, A stalworth man and hardi bo; Large and curteys he was also. His fader was comen of King Pluto, And his moder of King Juno, That sum time were as godes yhold For aventours that thai dede and told. This king sojournd in Traciens, That was a cité of noble defens For Winchester was cleped tho Traciens, withouten no. The king hadde a quen of priis That was y-cleped Dame Heurodis, The fairest levedi, for the nones, That might gon on bodi and bones, Ful of love and godenisse Ac no man may telle hir fairnise. Bifel so in the comessing of May When miri and hot is the day, And oway beth winter schours, And everi feld is ful of flours, And blosme breme on everi bough Over al wexeth miri anought, This ich quen, Dame Heurodis Tok to maidens of priis, And went in an undrentide

composed; produced happened in olden times their anywhere hear marvels took; minstrelsy gave have happened I; but but listen I will most glee or music sure; good much he taught himself to applied in no way any place born once hear think one high (great) lord brave both generous; courtly descended from3 once; considered to be gods did dwelled4 fortifications called; then denial queen of excellence called5 lady indeed walk [about] in goodness but; beauty it happened; beginning6 merry (pleasant) away field blossoms bright everywhere grow; enough same two; refinement late morning

3 Pluto is the king of the Greek underworld, Juno is Jupiter's wife. The medieval minstrel turns her into a man. 4 The Thrace of Greek myth is unceremoniously conflated with Winchester – the old capital of England. 5 Euridice's counterpart in the medieval romance. 6 Cf. surviving May Day celebrations, like Bealtaine in Ireland, and the figure of the May Queen. 26

Sir Orfeo

To play bi an orchardside, To se the floures sprede and spring And to here the foules sing. Thai sett hem doun al thre Under a fair ympe-tre, And wel sone this fair quene Fel on slepe opon the grene. The maidens durst hir nought awake, Bot lete hir ligge and rest take. So sche slepe til after none, That undertide was al y-done. Ac, as sone as sche gan awake, Sche crid, and lothli bere gan make; Sche froted hir honden and hir fete, And crached hir visage - it bled wete Hir riche robe hye al to-rett And was reveyd out of hir wit. The two maidens hir biside No durst with hir no leng abide, Bot ourn to the palays ful right And told bothe squier and knight That her quen awede wold, And bad hem go and hir at-hold. Knightes urn and levedis also, Damisels sexti and mo. In the orchard to the quen hye come, And her up in her armes nome, And brought hir to bed atte last, And held hir there fine fast. Ac ever she held in o cri And wold up and owy. When Orfeo herd that tiding Never him nas wers for nothing. He come with knightes tene To chaumber, right bifor the quene, And bi-held, and seyd with grete pité, "O lef liif, what is te, That ever yete hast ben so stille And now gredest wonder schille? Thy bodi, that was so white y-core, With thine nailes is all to-tore. Allas! thy rode, that was so red, Is al wan, as thou were ded; And also thine fingres smale Beth al blodi and al pale. Allas! thy lovesum eyyen to Loketh so man doth on his fo! A, dame, ich biseche, merci! Lete ben al this reweful cri, And tel me what the is, and hou, And what thing may the help now." Tho lay sche stille atte last

enjoy themselves

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hear; birds themselves grafted tree very quickly asleep dared let her lie slept; noon7 until midday; past but; began [to] loathsome outcry made; rubbed; hands scratched her face; profusely she tore all to pieces driven dared not; longer ran; immediately their; was going mad bade them; seize ran; ladies sixty and more8 they came their arms took very securely persisted in one wished [to go]; away heard had he been as grieved by anything came; ten beheld [her]; sorrow dear life; with you9 who; yet; calm but; cries strangely shrilly exquisitely torn to pieces face pale, as [if] slender lovely two eyes as; foe let be; pitiful what's bothering you; how then

7 Folklore and Christianity associate noon with peril. 8 Sixty suggests many, while one hundred and ten hundred suggest an indefinite number (143-44, 183). 9 Ll. 102-16 meaningfully echo medieval meditations on Christ's body (Felicity Riddy, "The Use of the Past in Sir Orfeo," Yearbook of English Studies 6, 1976, 9-10).

Sir Orfeo

And gan to wepe swithe fast, And seyd thus the King to: "Allas, mi lord, Sir Orfeo! Sethen we first togider were, Ones wroth never we nere; Bot ever ich have yloved the As mi liif and so thou me; Ac now we mot delen ato; Do thi best, for y mot go." "Allas!" quath he, "forlorn icham! Whider wiltow go, and to wham? Whider thou gost, ichil with the, And whider y go, thou schalt with me." "Nay, nay, Sir, that nought nis! Ichil the telle al hou it is: As ich lay this undertide And slepe under our orchardside, Ther come to me to fair knightes, Wele y-armed al to rightes, And bad me comen an heighing And speke with her lord the king. And ich answerd at wordes bold, Y durst nought, no y nold. Thai priked oyain as thai might drive; Tho com her king, also blive, With an hundred knightes and mo, And damisels an hundred also, Al on snowe-white stedes; As white as milke were her wedes. Y no seighe never yete bifore So fair creatours y-core. The king hadde a croun on hed; It nas of silver, no of gold red, Ac it was of a precious ston As bright as the sonne it schon. And as son as he to me cam, Wold ich, nold ich, he me nam, And made me with him ride Opon a palfray bi his side; And brought me to his palays, Wele atird in ich ways, And schewed me castels and tours, Rivers, forestes, frith with flours, And his riche stedes ichon. And sethen me brought oyain hom Into our owhen orchard, And said to me thus afterward, "Loke, dame, tomorwe thatow be Right here under this ympe-tre, And than thou schalt with ous go And live with ous evermo. And yif thou makest ous y-let, Whar thou be, thou worst y-fet,

very hard 120

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since never once; angry [to each other] must separate I must utterly lost I am where will you; whom I will [go] cannot be I will; all how morning two quite properly bade; in haste their with dared not, nor did I want to their; as quickly more

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their garments10 saw exquisite crown neither sun

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whether I wished or not he took me palfrey11 adorned; every way towers woods with flowers gorgeous steeds each one afterwards; back home own

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that you

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us evermore a hindrance for us wherever; will be fetched

10 White horses and garments recur in romance and dream vision poetry. 11 Heurodis's palfrey is small and less powerful than the steeds of the fairy knights. This suggests the vulnerability of humans. 28

Sir Orfeo

And totore thine limes al That nothing help the no schal; And thei thou best so totorn, Yete thou worst with ous y-born."' When King Orfeo herd this cas, "O we!" quath he, "Allas, allas! Lever me were to lete mi liif Than thus to lese the quen, mi wiif!" He asked conseyl at ich man, Ac no man him help no can. Amorwe the undertide is come And Orfeo hath his armes y-nome, And wele ten hundred knightes with him, Ich y-armed, stout and grim; And with the quen wenten he Right unto that ympe-tre. Thai made scheltrom in ich a side And sayd thai wold there abide And dye ther everichon, Er the quen schuld fram hem gon. Ac yete amiddes hem ful right The quen was oway y-twight, With fairi forth y-nome. Men wist never wher sche was bicome. Tho was ther criing, wepe and wo! The king into his chaumber is go, And oft swoned opon the ston, And made swiche diol and swiche mon That neighe his liif was y-spent Ther was non amendement. He cleped togider his barouns, Erls, lordes of renouns, And when thai al y-comen were, "Lordinges," he said, "bifor you here Ich ordainy min heighe steward To wite mi kingdom afterward; In mi stede ben he schal To kepe mi londes overal. For now ichave mi quen y-lore, The fairest levedi that ever was bore, Never eft y nil no woman se. Into wildernes ichil te And live ther evermore With wilde bestes in holtes hore; And when ye understond that y be spent, Make you than a parlement, And chese you a newe king. Now doth your best with al mi thing." Tho was ther wepeing in the halle And grete cri among hem alle; Unnethe might old or yong For wepeing speke a word with tong. Thai kneled adoun al y-fere And praid him, yif his wille were, That he no schuld nought fram hem go. "Do way!" quath he, "It schal be so!"

torn apart; limbs

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though you are so torn yet; will be carried with us matter woe I'd rather lose lose; wife advice from each person the next day; high noon taken each; strong; fierce a rank of armed men on each

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die; everyone before; from yet amidst them straightaway snatched enchantment; taken never knew then went swooned; stone (floor) such dole; moan almost; ended no remedy for it called

I ordain; high rule; henceforth in my place I have; lost lady; born will I see another woman I will go woods grey dead choose do; affairs then hardly; young together prayed from them enough!

Sir Orfeo

Al his kingdom he forsoke; Bot a sclavin on him he toke. He no hadde kirtel no hode, Schert, ne no nother gode, Bot his harp he tok algate And dede him barfot out atte gate; No man most with him go. O way! What ther was wepe and wo, When he that hadde ben king with croun Went so poverlich out of toun! Thurth wode and over heth Into the wildernes he geth. Nothing he fint that him is ays, Bot ever he liveth in gret malais. He that hadde y-werd the fowe and griis, And on bed the purper biis, Now on hard hethe he lith, With leves and gresse he him writh. He that hadde had castels and tours, River, forest, frith with flours, Now, thei it comenci to snewe and frese, This king mot make his bed in mese. He that had y-had knightes of priis Bifor him kneland, and levedis, Now seth he nothing that him liketh, Bot wilde wormes bi him striketh. He that had y-had plenté Of mete and drink, of ich deynté, Now may he al day digge and wrote Er he finde his fille of rote. In somer he liveth bi wild frut, And berien bot gode lite; In winter may he nothing finde Bot rote, grases, and the rinde. Al his bodi was oway dwine For missays, and al to-chine. Lord! who may telle the sore This king sufferd ten yere and more? His here of his berd, blac and rowe, To his girdel-stede was growe. His harp, whereon was al his gle, He hidde in an holwe tre; And when the weder was clere and bright, He toke his harp to him wel right And harped at his owhen wille. Into alle the wode the soun gan schille, That alle the wilde bestes that ther beth For joie abouten him thai teth, And alle the foules that ther were Come and sete on ich a brere To here his harping a-fine So miche melody was therin; And when he his harping lete wold, No best bi him abide nold.

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only; pilgrim's mantle had neither tunic nor hood shirt; goods at any rate passed barefoot might woe! in such poverty out of his town through; heath goes finds; for him; comfort distress worn the variegated and grey fur purple linen heath; lies covers himself towers woodland; flowers although it begins; snow; freeze must; moss excellence kneeling; ladies sees; pleases snakes; glide plenty delicacy dig; grub roots fruit berries of little worth

260

except roots; bark away dwindled hardship; chapped sorrow

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hair; beard; rough12 waist pleasure hollow weather

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played; own desire sound began to resound gathered birds sat; briar much would leave off beast; would remain

12 See Job 30: 30-31: "My skin is become black upon me, and my bones are dried up with heat. My harp is turned to mourning, and my organ into the voice of those that weep." 30

Sir Orfeo

He might se him bisides, Oft in hot undertides, The king o fairy with his rout Com to hunt him al about With dim cri and bloweing, And houndes also with him berking; Ac no best thai no nome, No never he nist whider they bicome And other while he might him se As a gret ost bi him te, Wele atourned, ten hundred knightes, Ich y-armed to his rightes, Of cuntenaunce stout and fers, With mani desplaid baners, And ich his swerd y-drawe hold Ac never he nist whider thai wold. And otherwile he seighe other thing: Knightes and levedis com daunceing In queynt atire, gisely, Queynt pas and softly; Tabours and trunpes yede hem bi, And al maner menstraci. And on a day he seighe him biside Sexti levedis on hors ride, Gentil and jolif as brid on ris; Nought o man amonges hem ther nis; And ich a faucoun on hond bere, And riden on haukin bi o rivere. Of game thai founde wel gode haunt Maulardes, hayroun, and cormeraunt; The foules of the water ariseth, The faucouns hem wele deviseth; Ich faucoun his pray slough That seigh Orfeo, and lough: "Parfay!" quath he, "ther is fair game; Thider ichil, bi Godes name; Ich was y-won swiche werk to se!" He aros, and thider gan te. To a levedi he was y-come, Biheld, and hath wele undernome, And seth bi al thing that it is His owhen quen, Dam Heurodis. Yern he biheld hir, and sche him eke, Ac noither to other a word no speke; For messais that sche on him seighe, That had ben so riche and so heighe, The teres fel out of her eighe. The other levedis this y-seighe And maked hir oway to ride Sche most with him no lenger abide. "Allas!" quath he, "now me is wo!" Whi nil deth now me slo? Allas, wreche, that y no might Dye now after this sight! Allas! to long last mi liif, When y no dar nought with mi wiif,

nearby of fairyland; company 285

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blowing [of horns] barking but they took no beast (game); knew; where they went at other times army; went equipped all properly armed appearance displayed knew not whither; went saw elegant; skillfully graceful steps drums and trumpets went sorts of minstrelsy on a certain day sixty ladies lively as bird on bough not a single man was with them each a falcon on [her] hand a-hawking by a great plenty mallards, heron; cormorant

320

marked each; prey killed saw; laughed by my faith I'll [go] I was wont such sport began [to] approach perceived saw

325

own eagerly; also but neither sadness

330

eye saw away might

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will not; slay 335

too long lasts my life

Sir Orfeo

No hye to me, o word speke. Allas! Whi nil min hert breke! Parfay!" quath he, "tide wat bitide, Whiderso this levedis ride, The selve way ichil streche Of liif no deth me no reche." His sclavain he dede on also spac And henge his harp opon his bac, And had wel gode wil to gon He no spard noither stub no ston. In at a roche the levedis rideth, And he after, and nought abideth. When he was in the roche y-go, Wele thre mile other mo, He com into a fair cuntray As bright so sonne on somers day, Smothe and plain and al grene Hille no dale nas ther non y-sene. Amidde the lond a castel he sighe, Riche and real and wonder heighe. Al the utmast wal Was clere and schine as cristal; An hundred tours ther were about, Degiselich and bataild stout. The butras com out of the diche Of rede gold y-arched riche. The vousour was avowed al Of ich maner divers aumal. Within ther wer wide wones, Al of precious stones; The werst piler on to biholde Was al of burnist gold. Al that lond was ever light, For when it schuld be therk and night, The riche stones light gonne As bright as doth at none the sonne. No man may telle, no thenche in thought, The riche werk that ther was wrought. Bi al thing him think that it is The proude court of Paradis. In this castel the levedis alight; He wold in after, yif he might. Orfeo knokketh atte gate; The porter was redi therate And asked what he wold hav y-do. "Parfay!" quath he, "icham a minstrel, lo! To solas thi lord with mi gle, Yif his swete wille be." The porter undede the gate anon And lete him into the castel gon. Than he gan bihold about al, And seighe liggeand within the wal Of folk that were thider y-brought And thought dede, and nare nought. Sum stode withouten hade, 13 Mentioned only twice in the poem. 32

Sir Orfeo

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nor she; one will not come what may wherever these same; hasten nor; I do not care pilgrim's gown he put on quickly very good desire avoided; stump into a rock gone country as sun on summer's smooth and level was not to be seen saw royal; wonderously high all [of] the outermost wall bright wonderful with strong battlements buttresses; moat vaulting; adorned With every kind of enamel were spacious dwellings burnished

370

dark stone's light shone noon nor think

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exquisite Paradise13 dismounted wished to enter if

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done I am entertain; my minstrelsy undid lying

390

seemed dead, but were not stood; head

And sum non armes nade, And sum thurth the bodi hadde wounde, And sum lay wode, y-bounde, And sum armed on hors sete, And sum astrangled as thai ete; And sum were in water adreynt, And sum with fire al forschreynt. Wives ther lay on childe bedde, Sum ded and sum awedde, And wonder fele ther lay bisides Right as thai slepe her undertides; Eche was thus in this warld y-nome, With fairi thider y-come. Ther he seighe his owhen wiif, Dame Heurodis, his lef liif, Slepe under an ympe-tre Bi her clothes he knewe that it was he. And when he hadde bihold this mervails alle, He went into the kinges halle. Than seighe he ther a semly sight, A tabernacle blisseful and bright, Therin her maister king sete And her quen, fair and swete. Her crounes, her clothes schine so bright That unnethe bihold he him might. When he hadde biholden al that thing, He kneled adoun bifor the king: "O lord," he seyd, "yif it thi wille were, Mi menstraci thou schust y-here." The king answered, "What man artow, That art hider y-comen now? Ich, no non that is with me, No sent never after the. Sethen that ich here regni gan, Y no fond never so folehardi man That hider to ous durst wende Bot that ic him wald ofsende." "Lord," quath he, "trowe ful wel, Y nam bot a pover menstrel; And, sir, it is the maner of ous To seche mani a lordes hous Thei we nought welcom no be, Yete we mot proferi forth our gle." Bifor the king he sat adoun And tok his harp so miri of soun, And tempreth his harp, as he wele can, And blisseful notes he ther gan, That al that in the palays were Com to him forto here, And liggeth adoun to his fete Hem thenketh his melody so swete. The king herkneth and sitt ful stille; To here his gle he hath gode wille. Gode bourde he hadde of his gle; The riche quen also hadde he. When he hadde stint his harping,

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had no arms through mad seat they ate drowned shriveled driven mad wondrous many just as; their taken enchantment brought there dear life she these marvels fair canopy beautiful their

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their scarcely

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should hear are you

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neither I, nor no one you since; reign foolhardy to us dared come unless I wished him summoned believe seek many though we may not be welcome must offer; entertainment merry; sound tunes; knows well [how to do] began hear lie they think listens; sits quietly his (Orfeo's); he (the king) great pleasure; songs she stopped

Sir Orfeo

Than seyd to him the king, "Menstrel, me liketh wel thi gle. Now aske of me what it be, Largelich ichil the pay; Now speke, and tow might asay." "Sir," he seyd, "ich biseche the Thatow woldest give me That ich levedi, bright on ble, That slepeth under the ympe-tree." "Nay!" quath the king, "that nought nere! A sori couple of you it were, For thou art lene, rowe and blac, And sche is lovesum, withouten lac; A lothlich thing it were, forthi, To sen hir in thi compayni." "O sir!" he seyd, "gentil king, Yete were it a wele fouler thing To here a lesing of thi mouthe! So, sir, as ye seyd nouthe, What ich wold aski, have y schold, And nedes thou most thi word hold." The king seyd, "Sethen it is so, Take hir bi the hond and go; Of hir ichil thatow be blithe." He kneled adoun and thonked him swithe. His wiif he tok bi the hond, And dede him swithe out of that lond, And went him out of that thede Right as he come, the way he yede. So long he hath the way y-nome To Winchester he is y-come, That was his owhen cité; Ac no man knewe that it was he. No forther than the tounes ende For knoweleche no durst he wende, Bot with a begger, y-bilt ful narwe, Ther he tok his herbarwe To him and to his owhen wiif As a minstrel of pover liif, And asked tidinges of that lond, And who the kingdom held in hond. The pover begger in his cote Told him everich a grot: Hou her quen was stole owy, Ten yer gon, with fairy, And hou her king en exile yede, But no man nist in wiche thede; And how the steward the lond gan hold, And other mani thinges him told. Amorwe, oyain nonetide, He maked his wiif ther abide; The beggers clothes he borwed anon And heng his harp his rigge opon, And went him into that cité

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what[ever] you wish generously if you wish to find out beseech you that you same; of complexion that could never be ill-matched lean, rough beautiful; blemish loathly; therefore to see much more disgraceful hear a lie from14 just now might ask [for]; I should by necessity Since I wish that you be happy swiftly

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country went found

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but further; town's he did not want to be recognized [whose house] was very small lodging for himself and for hi own wife poor life land

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cottage every scrap their; away ago; by magic into; went no one knew; country began the next day, towards noon stay

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upon his back

14 463-68 The rash boom is common in folklore. It can also be found in religious writing. See, for instance, Mark 6:14-29, where Herod makes a rash promise to Herodias' daughter 34

Sir Orfeo

That men might him bihold and se. Erls and barouns bold, Buriays and levedis him gun bihold. "Lo!" thai seyd, "swiche a man! Hou long the here hongeth him opan! Lo! Hou his berd hongeth to his kne! He is y-clongen also a tre!" And, as he yede in the strete, With his steward he gan mete, And loude he sett on him a crie: "Sir steward!" he seyd, "merci! Icham an harpour of hethenisse; Help me now in this destresse!" The steward seyd, "Com with me, come; Of that ichave, thou schalt have some. Everich gode harpour is welcom me to For mi lordes love, Sir Orfeo." In the castel the steward sat atte mete, And mani lording was bi him sete; Ther were trompours and tabourers, Harpours fele, and crouders Miche melody thai maked alle. And Orfeo sat stille in the halle And herkneth; when thai ben al stille, He toke his harp and tempred schille; The blissefulest notes he harped there That ever ani man y-herd with ere Ich man liked wele his gle. The steward biheld and gan y-se, And knewe the harp als blive. "Menstrel!" he seyd, "so mot thou thrive, Where hadestow this harp, and hou? Y pray that thou me telle now." "Lord," quath he, "in uncouthe thede Thurth a wildernes as y yede, Ther y founde in a dale With lyouns a man totorn smale, And wolves him frete with teth so scharp. Bi him y fond this ich harp; Wele ten yere it is y-go." "O!" quath the steward, "now me is wo! That was mi lord, Sir Orfeo! Allas, wreche, what schal y do, That have swiche a lord y-lore? A, way that ich was y-bore! That him was so hard grace y-yarked, And so vile deth y-marked!" Adoun he fel aswon to grounde; His barouns him tok up in that stounde And telleth him how it geth "It is no bot of mannes deth!" King Orfeo knewe wele bi than His steward was a trewe man And loved him as he aught to do, And stont up, and seyt thus, "Lo,

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burgesses (citizens) hair; upon gnarled like went he (Orfeo); him (the steward) I am; from heathendom

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what I have

trumpeters; drummers many; stringplayers15

tuned it loudly most beautiful minstrelsy began to perceive at once if you wish to thrive did you get; how unknown land went torn in small pieces had devoured same

lost O, woe; born to him; bitter fortune was allotted [a] death was ordained in a faint moment it (the world) there is no remedy for man's death! true ought

15 The episode metapoetically inscribes the minstrel's art.

Sir Orfeo

Steward, herkne now this thing: Yif ich were Orfeo the king, And hadde y-suffred ful yore In wildernisse miche sore, And hadde ywon mi quen o-wy Out of the lond of fairy, And hadde y-brought the levedi hende Right here to the tounes ende, And with a begger her in y-nome, And were mi-self hider y-come Poverlich to the, thus stille, For to asay thi gode wille, And ich founde the thus trewe, Thou no schust it never rewe. Sikerlich, for love or ay, Thou schust be king after mi day; And yif thou of mi deth hadest ben blithe, Thou schust have voided, also swithe." Tho all tho that therin sete That it was King Orfeo underyete, And the steward him wele knewe Over and over the bord he threwe, And fel adoun to his fet; So dede everich lord that ther sete, And all thai seyd at o criing: "Ye beth our lord, sir, and our king!" Glad thai were of his live; To chaumber thai ladde him als belive And bathed him and schaved his berd, And tired him as a king apert; And sethen, with gret processioun, Thai brought the quen into the toun With al maner menstraci Lord! ther was grete melody! For joie thai wepe with her eighe That hem so sounde y-comen seighe. Now King Orfeo newe coround is, And his quen, Dame Heurodis, And lived long afterward, And sethen was king the steward. Harpours in Bretaine after than Herd hou this mervaile bigan, And made herof a lay of gode likeing, And nempned it after the king. That lay "Orfeo" is y-hote; Gode is the lay, swete is the note. Thus com Sir Orfeo out of his care: God graunt ous alle wele to fare! Amen! Explicit.

Sir Orfeo

very long ago 560

sorrow won away gracious lady

565

had placed her in poverty test

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should never regret it surely should but if; happy been banished immediately then all those recognized that it was overturned the table his (Orfeo's) in one cry life led him immediately beard clothed; openly afterwards

their eyes newly crowned

595 and after [that] 600

made of it; great delight named called good sorrow well the end

THE THRUSH AND THE NIGHTINGALE The Thrush and the Nightingale is a short Midle English debate poem. The text has come down to us in two manuscripts: Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS

Digby

(written

between

1275

and

1300),

and

the

Auchinleck

manuscript, Edinburgh, National Library of Scotland, MS 19.2.1 (written around 1330). The two versions differ considerably, so the text below follows the more complete Digby 86. Birds occupy a very special place in medieval beast literature. Due to their great variety and elaborate social structures, as well as their natural ability to communicate vocally, birds have been compared to humans ever since the Classical period. In the Middle Ages they become typical characters in debate poetry both on the Continent and the British Isles. In England The Thrush and the Nightingale is closely related to the longer and more complex poem The Owl and the Nightingale, Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Parliament of Fowls, and later The Cuckoo and the Nightingale. In all these works the use of birds is inextricably related to the topic of love which often leads to discussions of women’s nature. In The Thrush and the Nightingale the clearly male Thrush vehemently attacks women, while the female Nightingale defends them. The Thrush draws from a wide range of sources and provides many examples from the Bible, classical history and myth, and Arthurian romance, even from his own experience, speaking rather as a male human rather than as a bird, to build a solid and well-structured argument. However, in the end of the poem when the Nightingale invokes the Virgin Mary as a representative of the female sex, the Thrush immediately recants and declares defeat. -G.N.

Ci comence le cuntent parentre la Mauuis et la Russinole Somer is comen with loue to toune With blostme and with brides roune The note of hasel springeth The dewes darkneth in the dale For longing of the nightegale This foweles murie singeth Hic herde a strif bitweies two, That on of wele, that other of wo, Bitwene two ifere; That on hereth wimmen, that hoe beth hende, That other hem wole with mighte shende;

Here begins the argument between theThrush and the Nightingale

love; town blossom; bird song hazelnut shoots darken birds; merry heard; strife; between well; woe companions praised women that they are nice wanted to ruin them forcefully

The Thrush and the Nightingale

That strif ye mowen ihere. The nightingale is on bi nome That wol shilden hem from shome; Of skathe hoe wole hem skere. The threstelcok hem kepeth ay; He seith bi nighte and eke bi day That hy beth fendes ifere, For hy biswiketh euchan man That mest bileueth hem ouppon; They hy ben milde of chere, Hoe beth fikele and fals to fonde, Hoe wercheth wo in euchan londe Hit were betere that hy nere! 'Lo, it is shome to blame leuedy, For hy beth hende of corteisy; Ich rede that thou lete. Ne wes neuere bruche so strong Ibroke with righte ne with wrong That wimon ne mighte bete. Hy gladieth hem that beth wrothe, Bothe the heye and the lowe, Mid gome hy cunne hem grete; This world nere nout yif wimon nere, Imaked hoe wes to mones fere; Nis nothing also swete.' 'I ne may wimen herien nohut, For hy beth swikele and false of thohut, Also Ich am ounderstonde. Hy beth feire and bright on hewe, Here thout is fals and ountrewe, Ful yare Ich haue hem fonde. Alisaundre the king meneth of hem; In the world nes non so crafti mon, Ne non so riche of londe. I take witnesse of monie and fele That riche weren of worldes wele, Muche wes hem the shonde.' The Nightingale, hoe wes wroth: 'Fowel, me thinketh thou art me loth, Sweche tales for to showe. Among a thousent leuedies itolde Ther nis non wickede iholde Ther hy sitteth on rowe. Hy beth of herte meke and milde, Hemself hy cunne from shome shilde Withinne boures wowe, And swettoust thing in armes to wre, The mon that holdeth hem in gle, Fowel, wi ne art thou hit icnowe?' 'Gentil fowel, seist thou hit me? Ich habbe with hem in bour ibe;

may hear one by name shield them from shame free them from blame thrustlecock1; attacked said; also they are all fiends they deceive each man most believes upon them mild of cheer turn out to be fickle and false they cause woe everywhere we would be better off without them shame; ladies nice and courteous tell you to let go breach made woman may not beat. gladden; wroth high with care; can; greet naught; without women she was created as man's companion2 as praise; naught treacherous; false of thought understand faire and bright in hew untrue many years have I observed them Alexander3; moaned (complained) there was never a man so wise rich in land. I take witness of many wealth shame she bird; loath such of whom stories have been told not one row of heart meek and mild shield themselves from shame within bower’s walls sweetest; wreath glee why; acknowledge do you say it to me? have been in their bower

1 Male thrush 2 Genesis 2: 18, 20-24. 3 The reference may be to Plutarch’s account of the life of Alexander the Great where the young king, very much in line with his mentor Aristotle’s teaching, is reported to have expressed his lack of interest in women and sex. 38

The Thrush and the Nightingale

I haued al mine wille. Hy willeth for a luitel mede Don a sunfoul derne dede Here soule for to spille. Fowel, me thinketh thou art les; They thou be milde and softe of pes, Thou seyst thine wille. I take witnesse of Adam, That wes oure furste man, That fond hem wycke and ille.' 'Threstelcok, thou art wod, Other thou const to luitel goed This wimmen for to shende. Hit is the swetteste driwerie And mest hoe counnen of curteisie; Nis nothing also hende. The mest murthe that mon haueth here Wenne hoe is maked to his fere In armes for to wende. Hit is shome to blame leuedi; For hem thou shalt gon sori, Of londe Ich wille the sende!' 'Nightingale, thou hauest wrong, Wolt thou me senden of this lond, For Ich holde with the rightte. I take witnesse of Sire Wawain, That Iesu Crist yaf might and main And strengthe for to fightte. So wide so he heuede igon Trewe ne founde he neuere non, Bi daye ne bi nightte.' 'Fowel, for thi false mouth, Thi sawe shal ben wide couth; I rede the fle with mightte! Ich habbe leue to ben here, In orchard and in erbere Mine songes for to singe. Herdi neuere bi no leuedi Bote hendinese and curteysi, And ioye hy gunnen me bringe.' 'Of muchele murthe hy telleth me, Fere, also I telle the, Hy liuieth in longinge.' 'Fowel, thou sitest on hasel bou, Thou lastest hem, thou hauest wou, Thi word shal wide springe.' 'Hit springeth wide, wel Ich wot, Thou tel hit him that hit not, This sawes ne beth nout newe. Fowel, herkne to mi sawe, Ich wile the telle of here lawe; Thou ne kepest nout hem, I knowe.

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I obtained all my desire. they are willing for a small reward do a sinful secret deed their souls by which to spill liar soft of peace you say what you want to was our first wicked and mean you are mad understanding is of little good to slander these women. the sweetest lovers know the most about courtesy there is nothing so handsome the most mirth that man has here4 when she is made his companion in his arms to go shameful to blame the ladies for them; shall be sorry out of the land will you because I support the right side Sir Gawain5 gave power fight as he has travelled he never found one true woman, by day or by night for your known advise; flee I have leave to be here arbour I never heard of a lady that was not nice and courteous they bring me joy much mirth my friend, I am telling you, they live in desire bough blame them; wrong disseminate widely I know well, tell those who do not know sayings listen their law you don’t abide by them

4 In the world of men. 5 Sir Gawain – King Arthur’s nephew and one of the knights of the Round Table – was generally considered “the maidens’ knight” and his complex and controversial relationships with women were explored in many romances composed both in England and on the Continent.

The Thrush and the Nightingale

Thenk on Costantines queneFoul wel hire semede fow and greneHou sore hit gon hire rewe, Hoe fedde crupel in hire bour, And helede him with couertourLoke war wimmen ben trewe!' 'Threstelkok, thou hauest wrong, Also I sugge one mi song, And that men witeth wide; Hy beth brighttore ounder shawe Then the day wenne hit dawe In longe someres tide. Come thu heuere in here londe, Hy shulen don the in prisoun stronge, And ther thou shalt abide; The lesinges that thou hauest maked Ther thou shalt hem forsake, And shome the shal bitide.' 'Nighttingale, thou seist thine wille, Thou seist that wimmen shulen me spille Datheit wo hit wolde! In holi bok hit is ifounde Hy bringeth moni mon to grounde That prude weren and bolde. Thenk oupon Samsun the stronge, Hou muchel is wif him dude to wronge; Ich wot that hoe him solde. Hit is that worste hord of pris That Iesu makede in Parais In tresour for to holde.' Tho seide the Nighttingale, 'Fowel, wel redi is thi tale; Herkne to mi lore. Hit is flour that lasteth longe, And mest iherd in eueri londe, And louelich under gore. In the worlde nis non so goed leche, So milde of thoute, so feir of speche, To hele monnes sore. Fowel, thou rewest al mi thohut, Thou dost euele, ne geineth the nohut, Ne do thou so nammore!' 'Nightingale, thou art ounwis On hem to leggen so muchel pris; Thi mede shal ben lene. Among on houndret ne beth fiue, Nouther of maidnes ne of wive That holdeth hem al clene, That hy ne werchethe wo in londe Other bringeth men to shonde And that is wel iseene. And they we sitten therfore to striuen Bothe of maidnes and of wiue,

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think of Constantine's queen6 full well she looked in royal robes how sore was her reward she lured a cripple to her bower hid; bedcover see whether

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as I say in one of my songs know far and wide they are brighter when it dawns

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you ever; their land they will put you in a strong prison there lies recant you will be shamed you say what you want will kill me to hell with him who would the Holy Book many men proud and bold think of Samson7 much; did I know that she sold him the worst hoard of worth Jesus; Paradise treasury then well ready is your listen to my lore flower most honoured lovely leech=doctor thought; fair of speech, to heal man's sores raves evil nevermore unwise to lay so much value on them your reward shall be lean one neither maidens, nor wives preserve themselves who cause no woe or bring men to shame argue

6 The reference is most probably to Constantine the Great's wife Fausta who was executed for seducing her stepson Crispus and contriving his death 7 The biblical story of Samson’s betrayal by Delilah is told in Judges, Ch. 16. 40

The Thrush and the Nightingale

Soth ne seist thou ene.' 'O fowel, thi mouth the haueth ishend Thoru wam wel al this world iwend, Of a maide meke and milde; Of hire sprong that holi bern That boren wes in Bedlehem, And temeth al that is wilde. Hoe ne weste of sunne ne of shame, Marie wes ire righte name, Crist hire ishilde! Fowel, for thi false sawe Forbeddi the this wode shawe, Thou fare into the filde!' 'Nightingale, I wes woed, Other I couthe to luitel goed With the for to striue. I suge that Icham ouercome Thoru hire that bar that holi sone That soffrede woundes fiue. Hi swerie bi his holi name, Ne shal I neuere suggen shame Bi maidnes ne bi wiue. Hout of this londe willi te, Ne rechi neuere weder I fle, Awai Ich wille driue!'

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you have not said even one truth your mouth has shamed you the womb that changed all this world, meek child born tamed all that is wild she did not know sin or shame her may Christ protect her for your false words you this wood go; field mad what I knew was of ittle good to strive with you I admit that I am overcome her who bore that holy son suffered five wounds swear I will never cause shame neither; nor I will out of this land reach; flee away will I go

The Thrush and the Nightingale

MEDIEVAL LYRICS Of a Rose Synge We, Alisoun, I Sing of a Maiden, Cuckoo Song (Sumer is icumen in)

Medieval English lyrics manifest a variety of influences. They were shaped by Latin hymns (especially the planctus Mariae, the complaint of the Virgin after the Crucifixion), and drinking songs (exemplified by the anonymous 13th century Carmina Burana), the Old English tradition, with its dependence on alliteration and kennings, and the French lyrical genres of carole and courtly poetry, with their emphatic use of rhyme. Akin to the latter, troubadour lyrics which flourished in the late twelfth century, became another formative influence after the arrival in England of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry II's queen and daughter of William of Poitou, "the father of the troubadours." Medieval lyrics were written by Franciscan friars like Thomas of Hales (1275), William Herebert (1333), and John Grimestone (1372), and later by scriveners and minstrels. The earliest known author of lyrics is St. Godric (d.1170), the visionary poet and composer of Sante Marye Virgine. Fourteenth-century lyricists include the mystic Richard Rolle of Hampole and Geoffrey Chaucer, while the fifteenth century boasts the names of Thomas Hoccleve and John Lydgate. The main religious genres of the medieval lyrical tradition are the passion poem, the poem in praise of the Virgin and her joys, the planctus Mariae, the poem on death, and the contemptus mundi (contempt of the world) poem. Secular genres include the reverdie (literally "regreening"), or spring song, celebrating seasonal change, the alba, or the morning song of the lover, the political poem, the social satire, the chanson d' aventure, or song of love-adventure, the pastourelle, or the wooing of a shepherdess by a knight and the like. Stylistically, medieval lyrics often involve allegory and riddle, paradox, irony, punning, parallelism, anaphora, and refrain. -E.P.

Medieval Lyrics

Of a Rose Synge We Composed around 1450, "Of a Rose Synge We" is another classic example of the Mariological tradition in High Medieval poetry. Like "I Sing of a Maiden", it, too, makes use of the strategies of the riddle, now elaborated by a "macaronic" mixture of English and Latin lines. Appropriating major doctrinal points in the Latin quotations -- the mystery of the Immaculate Conception and the typological linking of the Christological narrative to David and the prophets of the Old Testament, the poem reproduces the Gothic topos of the Virgin as the Rosa mystica (mystic rose), Rosa sine spina, (rose without thorns), and Flos florum (flower of flowers) in St. Bernard of Clairvaux and St. Bonaventure. The solemnity of the tone is further enhanced by the intertextual inscription of doctrinal Latin citations. -E.P.

Of a rose synge we: Misterium mirabile. This rose is railed on a rys; He hath bought the prince of prys, And in this tyme soth hit ys, Viri sine semine. Of a rose, &c. This rose is reed of colour bryght, Throw whom oure joye gan alyght, Uppon a Cristys masse nyght, Claro David germine. Of a rose, &c. Of this rose was Cryst y-bore, To save mankynde that was forlore; And us alle from synnes sore, Prophetarum carmine. Of a rose, &c. This rose, of flourys she is flour, She ne wole fade for no shour, To synful men she sent socour, Mira plenitudine. Of a rose, &c. This rose is so faire of hywe, In maide Mary that is so trywe, Y-borne was lorde of virtue, Salvator sine crimine. Of a rose, &c.

miraculous mystery 5

staked (supported by a "rail"), a branch the best of princes (i.e. Christ) truth it is; certain it is without seed of man

through; began Christ's mass, i.e. Christmas born of the house of David born forsaken; gone astray as the prophets foretold

she is the flower of flowers she will not fade from any shower (of rain) succour in wondrous plenty hue faithful Saviour without sin

Medieval Lyrics

Alisoun Unlike Sumer Is Icumen In, Alisoun begins as a reverdie only to progress as an articulation of the speaker's lovesickness, with its traditional symptomatology, and courtly self-abandonment before a mistress in complete control of the pleading lover. The poem contains a catalogue of charms, anticipating the Elizabethan Petrarchan blazon: the fair hue of the lady's hair, her black eyes, her brown brows. In tune with the spirit of fin' amor, the lover's suffering is imagined as a special gift from God. Highlighted by the refrain, the powerfully counterbalances the complaint of the lover and logically leads to the poem's conclusion: it is better to suffer for a while than mourn forever" and the plea for the lady to listen to the minstrel's song. Such an ending opens the lyric rhetorically a rhetorically open work which reproduces the intersubjective stance of the first degree of courtly situation, the clamar merce (asking for mercy). -E.P.

Bitweene Merch and Averil, When spray biginneth to springe, The litel fowl hath hire wil On hire leod to singe. Ich libbe in love-longinge For semlokest of alle thinge. Heo may me blisse bringe: Ich am in hire baundoun. An hendy hap ich habbe yhent, Ichoot from hevene it is me sent: From alle wommen my love is lent, And light on Alisoun. On hew hire heer is fair ynough, Hire browe browne, hire yen blake; With lossum cheere heo on me lough; With middel smal and wel ymake. But heo me wolle to hire take For to been hire owen make, Longe to liven ichulle forsake, And feye fallen adown. An hendy hap, etc. Nightes when I wende and wake, Forthy mine wonges waxeth wan: Levedy, al for thine sake Longinge is ylent me on. In world nis noon so witer man That al hire bountee telle can; Hire swire is whittere than the swan, And fairest may in town. An hendy, etc.

Medieval Lyrics

in the seasons of

pleasure in her language I live seemliest, fairest she power a gracious chance I have received I know all other; removed alights

hue; hair eyes with lovely face she on me smiled

unless mate I will dead

turn therefore; cheeks lady longing has come upon me clever excellence neck; whiter maid

Ich am for wowing al forwake, Wery so water in wore. Lest any reve me my make Ich habbe y-yerned yore. Bettere is tholien while sore Than mournen evermore. Geinest under gore, Herkne to my roun: An hendy, etc.

wooing; worn out from waking as deprive me I have been worrying long since endure; for a time fairest beneath clothing song

I Sing of a Maiden A poem in praise of the Virgin and the Immaculate Conception, the late 14th- early 15th century "I sing of a Maiden" never mentions them explicitly. Like a riddle, it instead expects the reader to make a guess. The clue is contained in the beautiful pun on "makeless", meaning both "without a paragon" and "without a mate". Predictably, it is Christ's mother who is both. The poem appears in a manuscript known as Sloane 2593 (ff.10v-11), held by the British Library, together with other poems, such as "I have a gentil cok", "Adam lay i-bowndyn", and "A minstrel's begging song". Judging by the dialect, the poem was probably created in Warwickshire and might have been inserted in a Marian mystery play. -E.P.

I sing of a maiden That is makelees: King of alle kinges To her sone she chees. He cam also stille Ther his moder was As dewe in Aprille That falleth on the gras. He cam also stille To his modres bowr As dewe in Aprille That falleth on the flowr. He cam also stille Ther his moder lay As dewe in Aprille That falleth on the spray. Moder and maiden Was nevere noon but she: Wel may swich a lady Godes moder be.

matchless, mateless as; chose 5

where; mother

such

Medieval Lyrics

Cuckoo Song (Sumer is icumen in) "Sumer Is Icumen In" ("Summer has arrived", Brit. Lib. MS Harley 978, f. 11v) is an anonymous English lyric of the earlier or mid-13th C., written in the Wessex dialect. It was meant to be sung as a six-voice rota, or round. It is found in a British Library manuscript from Reading Abbey and is therefore also known as the Reading rota. The music was probably composed by W. de Wycombe and copied at Oxford. The multilingual manuscript is a miscellany of religious and Goliardic pieces, lais, etc. Sumer is Icumen in is the only English text there. The poem is akin to the troubadour genre of reverdie. Commonplace as its poetic statements are, the piece is remarkable for its dynamic representation of nature's revival in springtime, achieved through the accumulation of verbs and apostrophe, or direct address. The harmonic principle of the rota's polyphony is enhanced by repetition, end rhyme (cuckou-now, cow-cuckou) internal rhyme (groweth-bloweth, seed-meed), (sumer-sing-seed-springth, lamb-loweth, calve-cow, bullocbucke), as well as the overall onomatopoeic effect of the poem. It has also been sugges ed that it contains a deeper ironic layer. E.P.

Sumer is ycomen in, Loude sing cuckou! Groweth seed and bloweth meed, And springth the wode now. Sing cuckou! Ewe bleteth after lamb, Loweth after calve cow, Bulloc sterteth, bucke verteth, Merye sing cuckou! Cuckou, cuckou, Wel singest thou cuckou: Ne swik thou never now!

Medieval Lyrics

meadow blossoms wood 5 leaps; farts 10

cease

SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT The anonymous Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is the masterpiece of medieval English romance. It is found in a single 14th century manuscript of the Cotton collection (Cotton MS Nero A.X.), together with three other alliterative poems, probably written by the same person: Pearl, a vision, and two didactic pieces about two Christian virtues, Cleanness, or Purity, denouncing filth through the stories of the Flood, Sodom and Belshazar’s feast and destruction, and Patience, exemplified by the Old Tetament story of Jonah. The poems must have been composed about 1370 in the North Midlands. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is an alliterative Arthurian romance about the crowning chivalric value of courtesy. In the English tradition, Courtesy, or civilised conduct, was embodied by Sir Gawain. The poet’s treatment of courtesy is amazingly sophisticated: this virtue turns out to make quite complex demands on the individual, clashing with his natural instincts and drives. The complexities an ideal code imposes on Gawain are suggested through a highly patterned narrative movement, inviting an allegorical reading of structure and number. The poem opens at Arthur’s palace Camelot with a Christmas celebration, a festive time of plenty and wish-fulfillment, but also of marvels and topsyturvydom. The fellowship of Arthur’s knights is in its prime, just like the year itself, and the new born Saviour. Arthur, however, experiences a meaningful lack: he wouldn’t start the feast unless he is informed of some unusual occurrence. His demand is immediately met: there enters a strange knight, enormous, green of hue, dressed in green and riding a green horse. He challenges Arthur’s knights, stating that he is prepared to receive a blow in case he returns this blow in a year’s time. It is Sir Gawain thaty has the stamina to stand up for the Knights of the Round Table. He strikes and cuts off the visitor’s head but the body, quite alive, picks it up and speaks to Gawain: ... he held the head in his hand quite upright, Pointed the face on the fairest in fame on the dais; And it lifted its eyelids and looked glaringly, And menacingly said with its mouth as you may now hear: ‘Be prepared to perform what you promised, Gawain; Seek faithfully till you find me, my fine fellow, According to your oath in this hall in these knights’ hearing. Go to the green Chapel without gainsaying to get

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Such a stroke as you have struck. Strictly you deserve That due redemption on the day of New Year. ( I, 20) Horrifying as the speech sounds, fears are partly assuaged by the mention of “Christmas game” (I.13), which lends an overtly theatrical quality to the grotesque episode. Certain medieval folk plays, like the St. George plays, contained resurrection rituals, and could have been a formative influence on the episode. Furthermore, Arthur consoles his horrified queen that “such cleverness comes well at Christmastide / Like the playing of interludes, laughter and song.” The king is quite pleased with what he sees and can go on with his “repast”. As the poem's further, heavily patterened narrative mobement suggests, its chief interest is in the sphere of the quest inwards rather than outwards, and the true antagonist of its chivalric hero is eqaually internalised: it is Sir Gawain's human inability to ignore his personal safety for the sake of an abstract, though highly ennobling moral code. Written in the dialect of the West Midlands, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight consciously stylizes and archaises its poetic language. It depends on a hybridisation of alliterative and rhyming techniques. Its stanza consists of a varying number of alliterative long lines, rounded off by “the bob and the wheel”, five shorter cross-rhymed lines, which either sum up the narrative, or comment upon it. -E.P.

SIÞEN þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye, Þe borʒ brittened and brent to brondeʒ and askez, Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wroʒt Watz tried for his tricherie, þe trewest on erthe: Hit watz Ennias þe athel, and his highe kynde, 5 Þat siþen depreced prouinces, and patrounes bicome Welneʒe of al þe wele in þe west iles. Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyþe, With gret bobbaunce þat burʒe he biges vpon fyrst, And neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat; 10 Tirius to Tuskan and teldes bigynnes, Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes, And fer ouer þe French flod Felix Brutus

The siege and assault having ceased at Troy1 as its blazing battlements blackened to ash, the man who had plotted that treason had trial enough for the truest traitor2! Then Aeneas the prince and his honored line plundered provinces and held in their power nearly all the wealth of the western isles. Thus Romulus swiftly arriving at Rome3 sets up that city and in swelling pride gives it his name, the name it now bears; and in Tuscany Ticius raises up towns, and in Lombardy Langoberde settles the land, and far past the French coast Felix Brutus

1 Typically, the beginning places the story in historical context, with reference to the fall of Troy. 2 A reference to the pseudohistorical treachery of Antenor and Aeneas at the fall of Troy, told by Dares and Dictus. 3 Romulus, Ticius and Langoberde are all legendary ancestors, after whom peoples and countries were named. According to Nennius Longbeard, or Langoberde, is the first man to have settled in Europe. 48

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settezwyth wynne, Where werre and wrake and wonder Bi syþez hatz wont þerinne, And oft boþe blysse and blunder Ful skete hatz skyfted synne. Ande quen þis Bretayn watz bigged bi þis burn rych, Bolde bredden þerinne, baret þat lofden, In mony turned tyme tene þat wroʒten. Mo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft Þen in any oþer þat I wot, syn þat ilk tyme. Bot of alle þat here bult, of Bretaygne kynges, Ay watz Arthur þe hendest, as I haf herde telle. Forþi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe, Þat a selly in siʒt summe men hit holden, And an outtrage awenture of Arthurez wonderez. If ʒe wyl lysten þis laye bot on littel quile, I schal telle hit as-tit, as I in toun herde, with tonge, As hit is stad and stoken In stori stif and stronge, With lel letteres loken, In londe so hatz ben longe. Þis kyng lay at Camylot vpon Krystmasse With mony luflych lorde, ledez of þe best, Rekenly of þe Rounde Table alle þo rich breþer, With rych reuel oryʒt and rechles merþes. Þer tournayed tulkes by tymez ful mony,

founds Britain4 on broad hills, and so bright hopes begin, where wonders, wars, misfortune and troubled times have been, where bliss and blind confusion have come and gone again. From the founding of Britain by this brave prince, bold men have bred there, burning for war, stirring up turmoil through the turning years. More wonders in the world have been witnessed here than anywhere else from that age forward. But of all who were crowned kings over Britain the most honor was Arthur's, as old tales tell.

So I mean to make known a marvel on earth, an astonishing sight, as some men call it, an extraordinary exploit among Arthur's wonders. Listen to this lay for a little while and as townsmen tell it, so this tale will trip along, a story pinned in patterns steadfast, steady, strong: aligned in linking letters5 as folk have loved so long. One Christmas in Camelot6 King Arthur sat at ease with his lords and loyal liegemen arranged as brothers round the Round Table.

Justed ful jolilé þise gentyle kniʒtes, Syþen kayred to þe court caroles to make. For þer þe fest watz ilyche ful fiften dayes, With alle þe mete and þe mirþe þat men couþe avyse; Such glaum ande gle glorious to here, 45 Dere dyn vpon day, daunsyng on nyʒtes, Al watz hap vpon heʒe in hallez and chambrez With lordez and ladies, as leuest him þoʒt. With all þe wele of þe worlde þay woned þer samen, Þe most kyd knyʒtez vnder Krystes seluen, 50 And þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden, And he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes; For al watz þis fayre folk in her first age,

Their reckless jokes rang about that rich hall till they turned from the table to the tournament field and jousted like gentlemen with lances and laughs, then trooped to court in a carolling crowd. For the feast lasted a full fifteen days of meals and merriment (as much as could fit.) Such gay glee must gladden the ear -by day what a din, and dancing by night! The halls and chambers were heaped with happy lords and ladies as high as you like! There they were gathered with all the world's goodness: knights as kind as Christ himself, ladies as lovely as ever have lived, and the noblest king our nation has known. They were yet in the pride, in the prime of their youth,

4 Brutus, descended from Aeneas, is the legendary founder of Britain. 5 In alliterative verse. 6 King Arthur's palace.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

on sille, Þe hapnest vnder heuen, Kyng hyʒest mon of wylle; Hit were now gret nye to neuen So hardy a here on hille. Wyle Nw ʒer watz so ʒep þat hit watz nwe cummen, Þat day doubble on þe dece watz þe douth serued. Fro þe kyng watz cummen with knyʒtes into þe halle, Þe chauntré of þe chapel cheued to an ende, Loude crye watz þer kest of clerkez and oþer, Nowel nayted onewe, neuened ful ofte; And syþen riche forth runnen to reche hondeselle, ʒeʒed ʒeres-ʒiftes on hiʒ, ʒelde hem bi hond, Debated busyly aboute þo giftes; Ladies laʒed ful loude, þoʒ þay lost haden, And he þat wan watz not wrothe, þat may ʒe wel trawe. Alle þis mirþe þay maden to þe mete tyme; When þay had waschen worþyly þay wenten to sete, Þe best burne ay abof, as hit best semed, Whene Guenore, ful gay, grayþed in þe myddes, Dressed on þe dere des, dubbed al aboute, Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer Of tryed tolouse, and tars tapites innoghe, Þat were enbrawded and beten wyth þe best gemmes Þat myʒt be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye, in daye. Þe comlokest to discrye Þer glent with yʒen gray, A semloker þat euer he syʒe Soth moʒt no mon say.

and filled as full of heaven's blessing as the king had strength of will. And mighty men surpassing all were gathered on that hill. While the year was as young as New Years can be the dais was prepared for a double feast.

The king and his company came in together when mass had been chanted; and the chapel emptied as clergy and commons alike cried out, "Noel! Noel! " again and again. 65 And the lords ran around loaded with parcels, palms extended to pass out presents, or crowded together comparing gifts. The ladies laughed when they lost at a game (that the winner was willing, you may well believe!) 70 Round they milled in a merry mob till the meal was ready, washed themselves well, and walked to their places (the best for the best on seats raised above7.) Then Guinevere moved gaily among them, took her place on the dais, which was dearly adorned 75 with sides of fine silk and a canopied ceiling of sheer stuff: and behind her shimmering tapestries from far Tarsus, embroidered, bedecked with bright gems

that the jewelers would pay a pretty price for any day, but the finest gem in the field of sight looked back: her eyes were grey. That a lovelier's lived to delight the gaze - is a lie, I'd say!

Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued, But Arthur would not eat till all were served. He watz so joly of his joyfnes, and sumquat 85 He bubbled to the brim with boyish spirits: childgered: His lif liked hym lyʒt, he louied þe lasse liked his life light, and loathed the thought Auþer to longe lye or to longe sitte, of lazing for long or sitting still longer. So bisied him his ʒonge blod and his brayn wylde. So his young blood boiled and his brain ran wild, And also an oþer maner meued him eke and in many ways moved him still more Þat he þurʒ nobelay had nomen, he wolde neuer ete 90 as a point of honor never to eat Vpon such a dere day er hym deuised were on a high holiday till he should have heard Of sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale, a strange story of stirring adventures, Of sum mayn meruayle, þat he myʒt trawe, of mighty marvels to make the mind wonder, Of alderes, of armes, of oþer auenturus, of princes, prowess, or perilous deeds. Oþer sum segg hym bisoʒt of sum siker knyʒt 95 Or someone might come, seeking a knight 7 A rthur's knights are not sitting at the Round Table, devised to avoid hierarchical distinctions, but acording to the custom in medieval castles. 50

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

To joyne wyth hym in iustyng, in jopardé to lay, Lede, lif for lyf, leue vchon oþer, As fortune wolde fulsun hom, þe fayrer to haue. Þis watz þe kynges countenaunce where he in court were, At vch farand fest among his fre meny in halle.

to join him in jousting, enjoying the risk of laying their lives on the line like men leaving to fortune the choice of her favor. This was the king's custom at court, 100

Þerfore of face so fere He stiʒtlez stif in stalle, Ful ʒep in þat Nw ʒere Much mirthe he mas withalle. 105 Thus þer stondes in stale þe stif kyng hisseluen, Talkkande bifore þe hyʒe table of trifles ful hende. There gode Gawan watz grayþed Gwenore bisyde, And Agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat oþer syde sittes, Boþe þe kynges sistersunes and ful siker 110 kniʒtes; Bischop Bawdewyn abof biginez þe table, And Ywan, Vryn son, ette with hymseluen. Þise were diʒt on þe des and derworþly serued, And siþen mony siker segge at þe sidbordez. Þen þe first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes, Wyth mony baner ful bryʒt þat þerbi henged; Nwe nakryn noyse with þe noble pipes, Wylde werbles and wyʒt wakned lote, Þat mony hert ful hiʒe hef at her towches. Dayntés dryuen þerwyth of ful dere metes, Foysoun of þe fresche, and on so fele disches Þat pine to fynde þe place þe peple biforne For to sette þe sylueren þat sere sewes halden on clothe. Iche lede as he loued hymselue Þer laght withouten loþe; Ay two had disches twelue, Good ber and bryʒt wyn boþe. Now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more, For vch wyʒe may wel wit no wont þat þer were. An oþer noyse ful newe neʒed biliue, Þat þe lude myʒt haf leue liflode to cach; For vneþe watz þe noyce not a whyle sesed,

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the practice he followed at pleasant feasts held in his hall; therefore with bold face he stood there straight and tall. As New Years proceeded apace he meant to have mirth with them all. So he stood there stock-still, a king standing tall, talking of courtly trifles before the high table. By Guinevere sat Gawain the Good, and Agravaine of the Heavy Hand8 on the other side: knights of great worth, and nephews to the king. Baldwin, the bishop, was above, by the head9, with Ywain, Urien's son10, sitting across. These sat at the dais and were served with due honor; and many mighty men were seated on either side. Then the first course came with a clamor of trumpets 11 whose banners billowed bright to the eye, while kettledrums12 rolled and the cry of the pipes wakened a wild, warbling music whose touch made the heart tremble and skip. Delicious dishes were rushed in, fine delicacies fresh and plentiful, piled so high on so many platters they had problems finding places to set down their silver bowls of steaming soup: no spot was clear. Each lord dug in with pleasure, and grabbed at what lay near: twelve platters piled past measure, bright wine, and foaming beer.

I need say no more how they served the food, for what fool would fancy their feast was a famine? 130 But a new noise announced itself quickly enough to grant the high lord leave to have dinner. The music had finished but a moment before,

8 Gawain's brother. Gawain and Aggravaine were sons of King Lot of Orkney.and King Arthur's half sister Anna. 9 Bishop Baldwin was on Arthur's right, the position of honour. Guinevere was sitting on the King's left. 10 Sir Ywain, the Knight of the Lion, was Sir Gawain's best friend. Cf. Chrétien de Troyes' eponymous Yvain, the Knight of the Lion. 11 Banners were attached to trumpets in the Middle Ages. 12 Double drums which the Crusaders brought back from the east.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

And þe fyrst cource in þe court kyndely serued, Þer hales in at þe halle dor an aghlich mayster, On þe most on þe molde on mesure hyghe; Fro þe swyre to þe swange so sware and so þik, And his lyndes and his lymes so longe and so grete, Half etayn in erde I hope þat he were, Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene, And þat þe myriest in his muckel þat myʒt ride;

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For of bak and of brest al were his bodi sturne, Both his wombe and his wast were worthily smale, And alle his fetures folʒande, in forme þat he hade, ful clene; For wonder of his hwe men hade, 145 Set in his semblaunt sene; He ferde as freke were fade, And oueral enker-grene. Ande al grayþed in grene þis gome and his wedes: A strayte cote ful streʒt, þat stek on his sides, 150 A meré mantile abof, mensked withinne With pelure pured apert, þe pane ful clene With blyþe blaunner ful bryʒt, and his hod boþe, Þat watz laʒt fro his lokkez and layde on his schulderes; Heme wel-haled hose of þat same, 155 Þat spenet on his sparlyr, and clene spures vnder Of bryʒt golde, vpon silk bordes barred ful ryche And scholes vnder schankes þere þe schalk rides; And alle his vesture uerayly watz clene verdure, Boþe þe barres of his belt and oþer blyþe 160 stones, Þat were richely rayled in his aray clene Aboutte hymself and his sadel, vpon silk werkez. Þat were to tor for to telle of tryfles þe halue Þat were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes and flyʒes, With gay gaudi of grene, þe golde ay inmyddes. 165 Þe pendauntes of his payttrure, þe proude cropure, His molaynes, and alle þe metail anamayld was þenne, Þe steropes þat he stod on stayned of þe same, And his arsounz al after and his aþel skyrtes,

the first course just served, and set before the court, when a horrible horseman hurtled through the doors, his body as brawny as any can be, so bull-necked, big-thighed, bulky and square, so long-legged, large-limbed, looming so tall I can hardly tell if he were half troll, or merely as large as living man can be a handsome one too; as hearty a hulk as ever rode horse. His back and chest were broad as a barrel, but he slimmed at the waist, with a slender stomach, and his face was well formed, with features sharp, and clean -Men sat there gaping, gasping at his strange, unearthly sheen, as if a ghost were passing, for every inch was green13. He was got up in green from head to heel: a tunic worn tight, tucked to his ribs; and a rich cloak cast over it, covered inside with a fine fur lining, fitted and sewn with ermine trim that stood out in contrast from his hair where his hood lay folded flat; and handsome hose of the same green hue which clung to his calves, with clustered spurs of bright gold; beneath them striped embroidered silk above his bare shanks, for he rode shoeless14. His clothes were all kindled with a clear light like emeralds: His belt buckles sparkled, and bright stones were set in rich rows arranged up and down himself and his saddle. Worked in the silk were too many trifles to tell the half of: embroidered birds, butterflies, and other things in a gaudy glory of green and inlaid gold. And the bit and bridle, the breastplate on the horse, and all its tackle were trimmed with green enamel, even the saddlestraps, the stirrups on which he stood, and the bows of his saddle with its billowing skirts

13 The Green Knight's colour relates him both to the Green man of medueval folklore and to the Devil, who was associated with it. 14 A sign of the Green Knight's self-imposed vulnerability. Knights would normally wear hose, but not armoured shoes, when not prepared for battle. 52

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Þat euer glemered and glent al of grene stones; 170 Þe fole þat he ferkkes on fyn of þat ilke, sertayn, A grene hors gret and þikke, A stede ful stif to strayne, In brawden brydel quik-To þe gome he watz ful gayn. Wel gay watz þis gome gered in grene, And þe here of his hed of his hors swete. Fayre fannand fax vmbefoldes his schulderes; A much berd as a busk ouer his brest henges, Þat wyth his hiʒlich here þat of his hed reches Watz euesed al vmbetorne abof his elbowes, Þat half his armes þer-vnder were halched in þe wyse Of a kyngez capados þat closes his swyre; Þe mane of þat mayn hors much to hit lyke, Wel cresped and cemmed, wyth knottes ful mony Folden in wyth fildore aboute þe fayre grene, Ay a herle of þe here, an oþer of golde; Þe tayl and his toppyng twynnen of a sute, And bounden boþe wyth a bande of a bryʒt grene, Dubbed wyth ful dere stonez, as þe dok lasted,

which glimmered and glinted with green jewels.

The stallion that bore him was the best of its breed it was plain, a green horse great and strong, that sidled, danced and strained, 175 but the bridle-braid led it along, turning as it was trained. He was a fine fellow fitted in green -And the hair on his head and his horse's matched. It fanned out freely enfolding his shoulders15, 180 and his beard hung below as big as a bush, all mixed with the marvelous mane on his head, which was cut off in curls cascading to his elbows, wrapping round the rest of him 185

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Syþen þrawen wyth a þwong a þwarle knot alofte, Þer mony bellez ful bryʒt of brende golde rungen. Such a fole vpon folde, ne freke þat hym rydes, Watz neuer sene in þat sale wyth syʒt er 195 þat tyme, with yʒe. He loked as layt so lyʒt, So sayd al þat hym syʒe; Hit semed as no mon myʒt Vnder his dynttez dryʒe. 200 Wheþer hade he no helme ne hawbergh nauþer, Ne no pysan ne no plate þat pented to armes, Ne no schafte ne no schelde to schwue ne to smyte, Bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe, Þat is grattest in grene when greuez ar bare, And an ax in his oþer, a hoge and vnmete, 205 A spetos sparþe to expoun in spelle, quoso myʒt. Þe lenkþe of an elnʒerde þe large hede hade, Þe grayn al of grene stele and of golde hewen, Þe bit burnyst bryʒt, with a brod egge 210

like a king's cape clasped to his neck. And the mane of his mount was much the same, but curled up and combed in crisp knots, in braids of bright gold thread and brilliant green criss-crossed hair by hair. And the tossing tail was twin to the mane, for both were bound with bright green ribbons, strung to the end with long strands of precious stones, and turned back tight in a twisted knot bright with tinkling bells of burnished gold. No such horse on hoof had been seen in that hall, nor horseman half so strange as their eyes now held in sight. He looked a lightning flash, they say: he seemed so bright; and who would dare to clash in melee with such might? Yet he had on no hauberk, nor a helmet for hi shead, neither neck-guard nor breastplate to break heavy blows, neither shaft nor shield for the shock of combat. But he held in one hand a sprig of holly16 that bursts out greenest when branches are bare; and his other hand hefted a huge and awful ax, a broad battleax with a bit to tell (take it who can) with a large head four feet long: the green steel down the grain etched with gold, its broad edge burnished and bright,

15 Another sign of his relatedness to Nature. 16 A Christmas symbol of good luck. Another suggestion of a happy ending.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

As wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores, Þe stele of a stif staf þe sturne hit bi grypte Þat watz wounden wyth yrn to þe wandez ende, And al bigrauen with grene in gracios werkes; A lace lapped aboute, þat louked at þe hede,

shaped razor-sharp to sheer through steel, and held high on a heavy staff which was bound at the base with iron bands 215

And so after þe halme halched ful ofte, Wyth tryed tasselez þerto tacched innoghe On botounz of þe bryʒt grene brayden ful ryche. Þis haþel heldez hym in and þe halle entres, Driuande to þe heʒe dece, dut he no woþe, Haylsed he neuer one, bot heʒe he ouer loked. Þe fyrst word þat he warp, 'Wher is', he sayd, 'Þe gouernour of þis gyng? Gladly I wolde Se þat segg in syʒt, and with hymself speke raysoun.' To knyʒtez he kest his yʒe, And reled hym vp and doun; He stemmed, and con studie Quo walt þer most renoun. Ther watz lokyng on lenþe þe lude to beholde,

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For vch mon had meruayle quat hit mene myʒt Þat a haþel and a horse myʒt such a hwe lach, As growe grene as þe gres and grener hit semed, Þen grene aumayl on golde glowandebryʒter.

As al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor lotez in hyʒe I deme hit not al for doute, Bot sum for cortaysye-Bot let hym þat al schulde loute Cast vnto þat wyʒe. Þenn Arþour bifore þe hiʒ dece þat auenture 54

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

This rider reined in as he rode through the doors direct to the high dais without a word, giving no greeting, gazing down on them all. His first word came when he stopped. “Where," he said, "is the master of these men? I've a mind to see his face and would fancy a chat with the fellow who wears the crown." To each lord he turned and glancing up and down he fixed each face to learn which knight held most renown. They stared at the stranger, stunned, a very long time. For each man wondered what it might mean that man and mount both shone a shade as green as the grass, and greener even

Al studied þat þer stod, and stalked hym nerre 235 Wyth al þe wonder of þe worlde what he worch schulde. For fele sellyez had þay sen, bot such neuer are; Forþi for fantoum and fayryʒe þe folk þere hit demed. Þerfore to answare watz arʒe mony aþel freke, And al stouned at his steuen and stonstil seten In a swoghe sylence þurʒ þe sale riche;

gracefully engraved in bright green patterns. A strap was strung through the steel head, running loop after loop down the length of the handle, which was tied with tassels in abundance, attaching by rich braids onto bright green buttons.

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than green enamel glows when gold makes it brighter. All eyes were on him, and some edged closer, wondering what in the world he would do. They had seen enough strange sights to know how seldom they are real; therefore they feared him for a phantom, a sending from the Unseen Realm. So of all those noble knights, none dared answer but sat there stupefied by the strength of his voice. A silence fell filling that rich hall as if they'd all fainted or suddenly slept: their voices just vanished at their height. Some, I suppose, were not floored, but chose to be polite, letting their leader and lord be first to speak to that knight. Arthur stood watching adventure advance

byholdez, And rekenly hym reuerenced, for rad was he neuer, And sayde, 'Wyʒe, welcum iwys to þis place,

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Þe hede of þis ostel Arthour I hat; Liʒt luflych adoun and lenge, I þe praye, And quat-so þy wylle is we schal wyt after.' 'Nay, as help me,' quoþ þe haþel, 'he þat on hyʒe syttes, To wone any quyle in þis won, hit watz not myn ernde; Bot for þe los of þe, lede, is lyft vp so hyʒe, And þy burʒ and þy burnes best ar holden, Stifest vnder stel-gere on stedes to ryde, Þe wyʒtest and þe worþyest of þe worldes kynde, Preue for to play wyth in oþer pure laykez, And here is kydde cortaysye, as I haf herd carp, And þat hatz wayned me hider, iwyis, at þis tyme. ʒe may be seker bi þis braunch þat I bere here Þat I passe as in pes, and no plyʒt seche; For had I founded in fere in feʒtyng wyse, I haue a hauberghe at home and a helme boþe, A schelde and a scharp spere, schinande bryʒt, Ande oþer weppenes to welde, I wene wel, als; Bot for I wolde no were, my wedez ar softer. Bot if þou be so bold as alle burnez tellen,

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Þou wyl grant me godly þe gomen þat I ask bi ryʒt.' Arthour con onsware, And sayd, 'Sir cortays knyʒt, If þou craue batayl bare, Here faylez þou not to fyʒt.' 'Nay, frayst I no fyʒt, in fayth I þe telle,

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Hit arn aboute on þis bench bot berdlez chylder. If I were hasped in armes on a heʒe stede, Here is no mon me to mach, for myʒtez so wayke. Forþy I craue in þis court a Crystemas gomen,

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For hit is ʒol and Nwe ʒer, and here ar ʒep mony: If any so hardy in þis hous holdez hymseluen, Be so bolde in his blod, brayn in hys hede, Þat dar stifly strike a strok for an oþer, I schal gif hym of my gyft þys giserne ryche,

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and answered quickly as honor bid, neither awed nor afraid, saying, "Wanderer, know you are welcome here. dismount, if you may; make merry as you wish, and we may learn in a little while what you would like." "So help me God who sits on high," he said, "No.""It is not my purpose to pass any time in this place. But I have been told that your reputation towers to heaven: that your court and castle are accounted the finest, your knights and their steeds as the sturdiest in steel, the best, the boldest, the bravest on earth, and as fitting foes in any fine sport. True knighthood is known here, or so the tale runs, which is why I have come calling today. You may be sure by this branch that I bear that I come in peace, with no plans for battle. I have a hauberk at home, and a helmet too, and other weapons I know well how to wield. Yet as war is not my wish I am wearing soft silk, but, if you are as bold as men believe you to be, you will be glad to grant me the game that is mine by right." Then Arthur said, "I swear," "most courteous, noble knight, if you'd like to battle bare, you'll not fail to find a fight." "Never fear," he said, "I'm not fishing for a fight with the beardless children on the benches all about. If I were strapped on steel on a sturdy horse no man here has might to match me. No, I have come to this court for a bit of Christmas fun fitting for Yuletide and New Years with such a fine crowd. Who here in this house thinks he has what it takes, has bold blood and a brash head, and dares to stand his ground, giving stroke for stroke? Here! I shall give him this gilded blade

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Þis ax, þat is heué innogh, to hondele as hym lykes, And I schal bide þe fyrst bur as bare as I sitte. If any freke be so felle to fonde þat I telle, Lepe lyʒtly me to, and lach þis weppen,

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I quit-clayme hit for euer, kepe hit as his auen, And I schal stonde hym a strok, stif on þis flet, Ellez þou wyl diʒt me þe dom to dele hym an oþer barlay, And ʒet gif hym respite, A twelmonyth and a day; Now hyʒe, and let se tite Dar any herinne oʒt say.' If he hem stowned vpon fyrst, stiller were þanne Alle þe heredmen in halle, þe hyʒ and þe loʒe. Þe renk on his rouncé hym ruched in his sadel, And runischly his rede yʒen he reled aboute, Bende his bresed broʒez, blycande grene,

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Wayued his berde for to wayte quo-so wolde ryse. When non wolde kepe hym with carp he coʒed ful hyʒe, Ande rimed hym ful richly, and ryʒt hym to speke: 'What, is þis Arthures hous,' quoþ þe haþel þenne, 'Þat al þe rous rennes of þurʒ ryalmes so mony? Where is now your sourquydrye and your conquestes, Your gryndellayk and your greme, and your grete wordes? Now is þe reuel and þe renoun of þe Rounde Table Ouerwalt wyth a worde of on wyʒes speche, For al dares for drede withoute dynt schewed!'

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Wyth þis he laʒes so loude þat þe lorde greued; Þe blod schot for scham into his schyre face and lere; He wex as wroth as wynde, So did alle þat þer were. Þe kyng as kene bi kynde Þen stod þat stif mon nere,

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And as þou foly hatz frayst, fynde þe behoues. 17 The traditional folklore motif of the Exchange of Winnings. 18 A common legal term iof the time. 19 A sign of anger in medieval literature.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

stretched slowly, and straightened to speak. "Hah! They call this King Arthur's house, a living legend in land after land? Where have your pride and your power gone, your bragging boasts, your big words?

Ande sayde, 'Haþel, by heuen, þyn askyng is nys,

as my gift; this heavy ax shall be his, to handle as he likes. and I shall stand here bare of armor, and brave the first blow. If anyone's tough enough to try out my game, let him come here quickly and claim his weapon! I give up all rights; he will get it for keeps. I'll stand like a tree trunk -- he can strike at me once, if you'll grant me the right to give as good as I get in play17. But later is soon enough, a full year and a day18. Get up, if you think you're rough, let's see what you dare to say!" If at first he had stunned them, now they sat stone-still the whole hall, both high and low. The mounted man moved in his saddle, glared a red glance19 grimly about, arched his bushy brows, all brilliant a nd green, his beard waving as he waited for one man to rise, to call or came forward. He coughed loudly,

The glories and triumphs of the Round Table have toppled at the touch of one man's words! What? Fainting with fear, when no fight is offered?" He let out a laugh so loud that Arthur winced with shame; the blood shot to his flushed face and churned with rage and raised a storm until their hearts all burned. All king in face and form, he reached that rider, turned, and said, "Look here, by heaven! Have you lost your mind? If you want to be mad, I will make you welcome!

I know no gome þat is gast of þy grete wordes; Gif me now þy geserne, vpon Godez halue, 325 And I schal bayþen þy bone þat þou boden habbes.' Lyʒtly lepez he hym to, and laʒt at his honde. Þen feersly þat oþer freke vpon fote lyʒtis. Now hatz Arthure his axe, and þe halme grypez, And sturnely sturez hit aboute, þat stryke wyth hit þoʒt. Þe stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hyʒt, Herre þen ani in þe hous by þe hede and more. Wyth sturne schere þer he stod he stroked his berde, And wyth a countenaunce dryʒe he droʒ doun his cote, No more mate ne dismayd for hys mayn dintez Þen any burne vpon bench hade broʒt hym to drynk of wyne. Gawan, þat sate bi þe quene, To þe kyng he can enclyne: 'I beseche now with saʒez sene Þis melly mot be myne. 'Wolde ʒe, worþilych lorde,' quoþ Wawan to þe kyng, 'Bid me boʒe fro þis benche, and stonde by yow þere, Þat I wythoute vylanye myʒt voyde þis table, And þat my legge lady lyked not ille, I wolde com to your counseyl bifore your cort ryche. For me þink hit not semly, as hit is soþ knawen, Þer such an askyng is heuened so hyʒe in your sale, Þaʒ ʒe ʒourself be talenttyf, to take hit to yourseluen, Whil mony so bolde yow aboute vpon bench sytten, Þat vnder heuen I hope non haʒerer of wylle,

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that I might rise without rudeness from this table without fear of offending your fair queen, and come before your court as a counselor should. It is plainly improper, as people know well, to point this proposal at the prince himself.

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there are so many bold knights on the benches all about, none more masterful in mind maybe than move move under heaven, nor many built better for the field of battle. Of all your men of war I am the weakest and least wise, and my life little enough to lose, if you look at it clearly. My only honor is that you are my uncle;

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my only boast is that my body carries your blood. Since this whole matter is such a mockery, it is not meant for you; and I am first on the field: let this folly be mine.

And lest lur of my lyf, quo laytes þe soþe

And syþen þis note is so nys þat noʒt hit yow falles, And I haue frayned hit at yow fyrst, foldez hit to me;

That burly man bulked big and tall, a head higher than anyone in the house. He stood there hard-faced, stroking his beard, impassively watching as he pulled off his coat, no more moved or dismayed by his mighty swings than anybody would be if somebody brought him a bottle of wine. Gawain, sitting by the queen, could tell the king his mind: "Lord, hear well what I mean, and let this match be mine." "Grant leave, good lord," said Gawain to the king, "to stir from my seat and stand by your side;

Though you may be eager to act for yourself,

Ne better bodyes on bent þer baret is rered. I am þe wakkest, I wot, and of wyt feblest,

Bot for as much as ʒe ar myn em I am only to prayse, No bounté bot your blod I in my bodé knowe;

Nobody I know is bowled over by your big words, so help me God! Hand me that ax -I will grant you the gift you beg me to give!" He leaped lightly up and lifted it from his hand. Then the man dismounted, moving proudly, while Arthur held the ax, both hands on the haft, hefted it sternly, considered his stroke.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

And if I carp not comlyly, let alle þis cort rych bout blame.' Ryche togeder con roun, And syþen þay redden alle same To ryd þe kyng wyth croun, And gif Gawan þe game.

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Þen comaunded þe kyng þe knyʒt for to ryse; And he ful radly vpros, and ruchched hym fayre,

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Kneled doun bifore þe kyng, and cachez þat weppen; And he luflyly hit hym laft, and lyfte vp his honde, And gef hym Goddez blessyng, and gladly hym biddes Þat his hert and his honde schulde hardi be boþe. 'Kepe þe, cosyn,' quoþ þe kyng, 'þat þou on kyrf 370 sette, And if þou redez hym ryʒt, redly I trowe Þat þou schal byden þe bur þat he schal bede after.' Gawan gotz to þe gome with giserne in honde, And he baldly hym bydez, he bayst neuer þe helder. Þen carppez to Sir Gawan þe knyʒt in þe grene, 375 'Refourme we oure forwardes, er we fyrre passe. Fyrst I eþe þe, haþel, how þat þou hattes Þat þou me telle truly, as I tryst may.' 'In god fayth,' quoþ þe goode knyʒt, 'Gawan I hatte, Þat bede þe þis buffet, quat-so bifallez after,

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And at þis tyme twelmonyth take at þe an oþer Wyth what weppen so þou wylt, and wyth no wyʒ ellez on lyue.' Þat oþer onswarez agayn, 'Sir Gawan, so mot I þryue As I am ferly fayn Þis dint þat þou schal dryue.

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'Bigog,' quoþ þe grene knyʒt, 'Sir Gawan, me lykes Þat I schal fange at þy fust þat I haf frayst here. And þou hatz redily rehersed, bi resoun ful trwe, Clanly al þe couenaunt þat I þe kynge asked, Saf þat þou schal siker me, segge, bi þi trawþe, Þat þou schal seche me þiself, where-so þou 20 Except 58

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If my claim is uncalled-for let the court judge; I will bear the blame." They huddled hushed around and all advised the same: respect the royal crown, and give Gawain the game. Then the king commanded him to rise and come forward, and he stood quickly, walked with stately steps to kneel before the king and claim his weapon. Arthur handed it over and held up his hand to give him God's blessing. With a glad smile he charged him to be hardy in heart. "Cousin, careful," he said, "cut him but once. and if you teach him truly, I trust you will find you can bear the blow that he brings you later." Gawain went to the warrior, weapon in hand, not the least bit bashful, as bold as can be. Then the Green Knight said to Gawain, "We should go over our agreement before we begin. First, knight, I would know your name, told truly as one I can trust." "My name is Gawain," he said, "I give it in good faith, as I will give you a blow and bear what comes after. At this time in twelve months I will take a blow back from what weapon you wish, but from no other knight alive." The other answering spoke, "Sir Gawain: good. I derive great pleasure from the stroke your hardy hands will drive." "Gad!" the Green Knight said. "Sir Gawain, I am glad that your fist will fetch me the fun I hoped to find. You have quickly retold in trustworthy words a correct account of the contract I asked of the king, 20 save one stipulation that I must state: let it stand as your oath that you will seek me yourself, and search

hopes I may be funde vpon folde, and foch þe such wages As þou deles me to-day bifore þis douþe ryche.' 'Where schulde I wale þe,' quoþ Gauan, 'where is þy place? I wot neuer where þou wonyes, bi hym þat me wroʒt, Ne I know not þe, knyʒt, by cort ne þi name. Bot teche me truly þerto, and telle me how þou hattes, And I schal ware alle my wyt to wynne me þeder,

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and I shall work my wits out to win my way there. I give my plain promise; I pledge you my word."

And þat I swere þe for soþe, and by my seker traweþ.' 'Þat is innogh in Nwe ʒer, hit nedes no more', Quoþ þe gome in þe grene to Gawan þe hende; 'ʒif I þe telle trwly, quen I þe tape haue

anywhere you feel I may be found to fetch back the same wages I am paid today before this proud court." "Where should I look?" Gawain asked, "Where do you live?" "By Him that made me, your house is not known to me, neither do I know you, knight, nor your court nor your name. But teach me truly, tell me where to find you

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And þou me smoþely hatz smyten, smartly I þe teche Of my hous and my home and myn owen nome, Þen may þou frayst my fare and forwardez holde; And if I spende no speche, þenne spedez þou þe better, For þou may leng in þy londe and layt no fyrre

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bot slokes! Ta now þy grymme tole to þe, And let se how þou cnokez.' 'Gladly, sir, for soþe', Quoþ Gawan; his ax he strokes.

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"That is enough for a New Year's pledge; you need say no more," So the green man answered gracious Gawain "If I'm telling the truth, why, when I've taken your tap, and you've lopped me lovingly, you'll learn at once of my house and my home and how I am named. Then you can try my hospitality and be true to our compact. Or I'll have no words to waste, which would be well for you: you'd relax in this land, and not look for me further. But stop! Take up the grim tool you need, and show me how you chop." "Gladly, sir," he said, "Indeed," and gave the ax a strop.

Þe grene knyʒt vpon grounde grayþely hym The green knight got ready, feet firm on the dresses, ground; A littel lut with þe hede, þe lere he discouerez, leaned his head a little to let the cheek show, His longe louelych lokkez he layd ouer his croun, and raised the rich riot of his hair Let þe naked nec to þe note schewe. so the nape of his neck was naked and exposed. Gauan gripped to his ax, and gederes hit on hyʒt, 420 Gawain held the ax high overhead, Þe kay fot on þe folde he before sette, his left foot set before him on the floor, Let him doun lyʒtly lyʒt on þe naked, swung swiftly at the soft flesh Þat þe scharp of þe schalk schyndered þe bones, so the bit of the blade broke through the bones, And schrank þurʒ þe schyire grece, and schade crashed through the clear fat and cut it hit in twynne, in two, Þat þe bit of þe broun stel bot on þe grounde. 425 and the brightly burnished edge bit into the earth. Þe fayre hede fro þe halce hit to þe erþe, The handsome head fell, hit the ground, Þat fele hit foyned wyth her fete, þere hit forth and rolled forward; they fended it off with roled; their feet. Þe blod brayd fro þe body, þat blykked on þe The red blood burst bright from the green body, grene; And nawþer faltered ne fel þe freke neuer þe yet the fellow neither faltered nor fell

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

helder, Bot styþly he start forth vpon styf schonkes, And runyschly he raʒt out, þere as renkkez stoden, Laʒt to his lufly hed, and lyft hit vp sone; And syþen boʒez to his blonk, þe brydel he cachchez, Steppez into stelbawe and strydez alofte, And his hede by þe here in his honde haldez; And as sadly þe segge hym in his sadel sette As non vnhap had hym ayled, þaʒ hedlez he were in stedde. He brayde his bulk aboute, Þat vgly bodi þat bledde; Moni on of hym had doute, Bi þat his resounz were redde. For þe hede in his honde he haldez vp euen, Toward þe derrest on þe dece he dressez þe face, And hit lyfte vp þe yʒe-lyddez and loked ful brode, And meled þus much with his muthe, as ʒe may now here: 'Loke, Gawan, þou be grayþe to go as þou hettez, And layte as lelly til þou me, lude, fynde, As þou hatz hette in þis halle, herande þise knyʒtes; To þe grene chapel þou chose, I charge þe, to fotte Such a dunt as þou hatz dalt – disserued þou habbez To be ʒederly ʒolden on Nw ʒeres morn. Þe knyʒt of þe grene chapel men knowen me mony; Forþi me for to fynde if þou fraystez, faylez þou neuer. Þerfore com, oþer recreaunt be calde þe behoues.' With a runisch rout þe raynez he tornez, Halled out at þe hal dor, his hed in his hande, Þat þe fyr of þe flynt flaʒe fro fole houes. To quat kyth he becom knwe non þere, Neuer more þen þay wyste from queþen he watz wonnen. What þenne? Þe kyng and Gawen þare At þat grene þay laʒe and grenne, ʒet breued watz hit ful bare A meruayl among þo menne. 21 The Beheading Game 60

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

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but stepped strongly out on sturdy thighs21, reached roughly right through their legs, grabbed his graceful head and lifted it from the ground, ran to his horse, caught hold of the reins,

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stepped in the stirrup, strode into the saddle, the head dangling by the hair from his hand, and seated himself as firmly in the saddle as if he were unhurt, though he sat on his horse without a head. He swiveled his bulk about; the ugly stump still bled. They gaped in fear and doubt because of the words he said. For he held the head up evenly in his hand, turned the face toward the top of the high table, and the eyelids lifted and looked on them all while the mouth moved, making these words:

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"Gawain, get ready to go as you have promised, Seek me out, sir; search till you find me as sworn here in this hall where all these knights heard. I charge you, come as you chose to the Green Chapel to get as good as you gave – you've got it coming and will be paid promptly when another year haspassed. Many men know me as the Knight of the Green Chapel, so search faithfully and you'll not fail to find me. Come, or be called a faithless coward!" He roared like a raging bull, turned the reins, and drove for the door, still dangling the head, while fire flashed from the horse's feet as if its hooves were flints. Where he went no one knew, nor could they name the country he came from nor his kin. What then? The king and Gawain grinned and laughed at the Green Knight when they knew full well it had been a portent to their men.

Þaʒ Arþer þe hende kyng at hert hade wonder, He let no semblaunt be sene, bot sayde ful hyʒe To þe comlych quene wyth cortays speche, 'Dere dame, to-day demay yow neuer; Wel bycommes such craft vpon Cristmasse,

Though High King Arthur's heart was heavy with wonder he let no sign of it be seen, but said aloud

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Laykyng of enterludez, to laʒe and to syng, Among þise kynde caroles of knyʒtez and ladyez. Neuer þe lece to my mete I may me wel dres, For I haf sen a selly, I may not forsake.' He glent vpon Sir Gawen, and gaynly he sayde, 'Now, sir, heng vp þyn ax, þat hatz innogh hewen'; And hit watz don abof þe dece on doser to henge, Þer alle men for meruayl myʒt on hit loke, And bi trwe tytel þerof to telle þe wonder. Þenne þay boʒed to a borde þise burnes togeder, Þe kyng and þe gode knyʒt, and kene men hem serued Of alle dayntyez double, as derrest myʒt falle;

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Wyth alle maner of mete and mynstralcie boþe, Wyth wele walt þay þat day, til worþed an ende in londe. Now þenk wel, Sir Gawan, For woþe þat þou ne wonde Þis auenture for to frayn Þat þou hatz tan on honde.

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with a king's courtesy to his lovely queen: "Beloved lady, never let this dismay you. It is good to get such games at Christmas , 22 light interludes, laughter and song , or the whole court singing carols in chorus. But truly, I can turn now to my table and feast; as my word is good, I have witnessed a wonder." He turned to Sir Gawain and tactfully said, "Hang up your ax; it has cut all it can." It was attached to a tapestry above the high table for all men to marvel on who might see it there, as a true token of a tale of wonder. Then they sat in their seats to resume their feast, Gawain and the king together, while good men served them the rarest, dearest delicacies in double portions, with whole batteries of the best foods, and the singing of bards. The day finished, and their feast was filled with joy and zest. Sir Gawain, have a care to keep your courage for the test, and do the deed you've dared. You've begun: now brave the rest.

Another suggestion of the harmless character of the poem's rituals of beheading and exchange.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

PIERS PLOWMAN Piers Plowman is an alliterative poem of the second half of the 14th century. It obviously enjoyed great popularity in its time, since there are 52 extant manuscripts. The poem exists in three versions, referred to as A, B, and C text respectively. The A text is the earliest and shortest, while the C text is the latest and longest. The A text could be dated to 1362 (after the plague), the B text to 1377 (after the death of Edward the Black Prince) and the C text to 1395-8 (during the reign of Richard II). Some critics believe that the text grew in time and actually was the work of a lifetime. Traditionally, scholarly interest focuses on the B-version, which is more complete than A and artistically maturer than C. Some critics are inclined to think that the three versions were produced by different hands. All of them are in the dialect of the West Midlands, much closer to Chaucer's English than the language of the Gawain poet. In 1550 Robert Crowley printed the text with the conviction that it prefigured attitudes characteristic of his own Reformist Age. Like the Roman de la Rose by Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun, or Dante's Comedia Divina, Piers Plowman is a visio, a dream vision poem. Originating in Macrobius' Somnium Scipionis, the genre tended to be associated with the allegorical mode. In this mode, characters are personified abstractions, and antagonisms are a matter of the dreamer's battle of the soul (psychomachia). Passus XVIII of Piers Plowman contains the Eight Vision of Will, its dreaming narrator. This is the vision of Christ, who appears in the shape of a medieval knight about to joust with the Devil in Piers Plowman's armour, i.e. in human flesh. The Passus reasserts the identity of the two. Expounding the doctrine of atonement and redemption, it is the climax of the entire poem. The text is interspersed with fragments of Biblical history, especially from Christ's entry into Jerusalem and the Crucifixion. The pivotal event is the Harrowing of Hell, taken from the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus (ab. 400) and not found in the four synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. This is the point at which Will's anguished questioning about truth and salvation receives an answer: with the release of souls from Hell, Mercy and Peace are reconciled with Truth and Righteousness, both in the world and within the narrator himself. The Passus foretells Christ's victory on Judgement Day. Significantly, the Passus ends with the dreamer's awakening to find out that it is Easter, the day of Christ's Resurrection from the dead. With this, his spiritual journey seems to have reached a climax of insightful fulfillment. -E.P.

Piers Plowman

PASSUS XVIII (The Harrowing of Hell) Wolleward and weetshoed wente I forth after As a recchelees renk that [reccheth of no wo], And yede forth lik a lorel al my lif tyme, Til I weex wery of the world and wilned eft to slepe, And lened me to a Lenten – and longe tyme I slepte; Reste me there and rutte faste til ramis palmarum. Of gerlis and of Gloria, laus gretly me dremed And how osanna by organye olde folk songen, And of Cristes passion and penaunce, the peple that ofraughte. Oon semblable to the Samaritan, and somdeel to Piers the Plowman, Barefoot on an asse bak bootles cam prikye, Withouten spores other spere; spakliche he loked, As is the kynde of a knyght that cometh to be dubbed, To geten hym gilte spores on galoches ycouped. Thanne was Feith in a fenestre, and cryde "At Fili David!" As dooth an heraud of armes whan aventrous cometh to iustes. Olde Jewes of Jerusalem for joye thei songen, Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. Thanne I frayned at Feith what al that fare bymente, And who sholde juste in Jerusalem. "jesus," he seide, "And fecche that the fend claymeth – Piers fruyt the Plowman." "Is Piers in this place?" quod I, and he preynte on me. "This Jesus of his gentries wol juste in Piers armes, In his helm and in his haubergeon – humana natura. That Crist be noght biknowe here for consummatus Deus, In Piers paltok the Plowman this prikiere shal ryde;

LINEN-LESS and wet-shod went I forth after, As a reckless fellow that of no woe recks, And went like a vagrant all my life, Till I waxed weary of the world and wished to sleep again, And leaned me about till Lent and long time I slept; I rested and dreamed there, and snored fast till ramis palmarum1; Of children and of gloria laus2 greatly me dreamed, And how hosanna3 to the organ4 old folk sang. And of Christ’s passion and penance that the people saved One like to the Samaritan and somewhat to Piers Plowman. Bare-foot on an ass's back · boot-less came riding5, Without spurs or spear lively he looked, As is the way with a knight that cometh to be dubbed, To get him gilt spurs or shoes slashed. Then was Faith in a window and cried "a! fili David6!" As doth a herald at arms when the adventurous come to joust. Old Jews of Jerusalem for joy they sang, Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini7. Then I asked of Faith what all that affair meant, And who should joust in Jerusalem "Jesus," he said, "And fetch what the Fiend claimeth Piers' fruit the Plowman." "Is Piers in this place?" quoth I and he looked on me, "This Jesus of his nobility will joust in Piers' arms, In his helm and in his hauberk humana natura8; That Christ be not known here for consummatus Deus9, In Piers' garment the Plowman this pricker shall ride;

1 May no grisly ghost glide near its shadow!" 2 Praise and glory. 3 Save us, please (Hebrew). A liturgical word. 4 References to the service on Palm Sunday and Chrsit's Entry into Jerusalem. . Cf. John 12:13. 5 Like the ass, on which he rode, a sign of Christ's humility. 6 The son of David. 7 Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord" (Mark 11.9), 8 Human nature. 9 Perfect God.

Piers Plowman

For no dynt shal hym dere as in deitate Patris." "Who shal juste with Jesus?" quod I, "Jewes or scrybes?" "Nay," quod Feith, "but the fend and fals doom to deye. Deeth seith he shal fordo and adoun brynge Al that lyveth or loketh in londe or in watre. Lif seith that he lieth, and leieth his lif to wedde That, for al that Deeth kan do, withinne thre daies to And fecche fro the fend Piers fruyt the Plowman, And legge it ther hym liketh, and Lucifer bynde, And forbete and adoun brynge bale-deeth for evere: O Mors ero mors tua!" Thanne cam Pilatus with muche peple, sedens pro tribunali, To se how doghtiliche Deeth sholde do, and deme hir botheres right. The Jewes and the justieeayeins Jesu thei weere, And al the court on hym cryde "Crucifige!" sharpe. Tho putte hym forth a p[e]lour bifore Pilat and seide, "This Jesus of oure Jewes temple japed and despised, To fordoon it on o day, and in thre dayes after Edifie it eft newe – here he stant that seide it And yit maken it as muche in alle manere poyntes Bothe as long and as large a lofte and by grounde." "Crucifige! "quod a cachepol, " I warante hym a wicche!" "Tolle, tolle!" quod another, and took of kene thornes, And bigan of [gr]ene thorn a garland to make, And sette it sore on his heed and seide in envye, "A ve, rabyt" quod that ribaud – and threw reedes at hym, Nailed hym with thre nailes naked on the roode, And poison on a poole thei putte up to hise lippes, And beden hym drynken his deeth-yvel – hise dayes were ydone

For no dint shall him hurt as in deitate Patris10." "Who shall joust with Jesus?" quoth I "Jews or scribes?" "Nay," quoth He, "the foul Fiend and falsehood and death. Death saith he will undo and down bring All that liveth or looketh in land or in water. Life saith that he lies and laith his life to pledge, That for all that death can do within three days, He will go and fetch from the Fiend Piers' fruit the Plowman, And lay it where him liketh and Lucifer bind, And beat and down bring sorrow and death for ever: O mors, ero mors tua11! Then came Pilatus with much people sedens pro tribunali12, To see how doughtily death should do and judge the rights of both. The Jews and justices against Jesus t hey were, And all their court on him cried crucifige13 sharp. Then put forth a robber before Pilate, and said, "This Jesus at our Jews" temple japed and despised, To undo it on one day and in three days after Edify it anew (here he stands that said it) And yet make it as much · in all manner of points, Both as long and as large by height and by length." "Crucifige," quoth a catchpole · "I warrant him a witch!" "Tolle, tolle14!" quoth another and took of keen thorns, And began of keen thorn a garland to make, And set it hard on his head and said in malice, "Ave, rabi15!" quoth that rascal and threw reeds at him16, Nailed him with three nails naked on the rood, And poison17 on a pole they put up to hislips,

And bade him drink his death drink his days were done.

10 God the father. 11 O death, I will be thy death (Hossia 13:14) 12 Sat in the Judgement seat. 13 Crucify him. 14 Off with him. 15 Hail, master! 16 Langland's account contains material from all four gospels, as well as additions of his own. 17 Poison is not mentioned in the Gospels. Christ is given vinegar and/or wine. 64

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And [seiden], "If that thow sotil be, help now thiselve; If thow be Crist and kynges sone, com down of the roode; Thanne shul we leve that lif thee loveth and wol noght lete thee deye!" "Consummatum est," quod Crist, and comsede for to swoune, Pitousliche and pale as a prison that deieth; The lord of lif and of light tho leide hise eighen togideres. The day for drede withdrough and derk bicam the sonne. The wal waggede and cleef, and al the world quaved. Dede men for that dene come out of depe graves, And tolde why that tempeste so longe tyme durede. "For a bitter bataille," the dede body seide; "Lif and Deeth in this derknesse, hir oon fordeoth hir oother. Shal no wight wite witterly who shal have the maistrie Er Sonday aboute sonne risyng" – and sank with that til erthe. Some seide that he was Goddes sone, that so faire deyde: Vere filius Dei erat iste. And some seide he was a wicche – "Good is that we assaye Wher he be deed or noght deed, doun er he be taken." Two theves also tholed deeth that tyme Upon a croos bisides Crist – so was the comune lawe. A cachepol cam forth and craked bothe hir legges, And hir armes after of either of tho theves. Ac was no boy so boold Goddes body to touche; For he was knyght and kynges sone, Kynde foryaf that throwe That noon harlot were so hardy to leyen hond upon hym. Ac ther cam forth a knyght with a kene spere ygrounde, Highte Longeus, as the lettre telleth, and longe hadde lore his sight. Bifore Pilat and oother peple in the place he hoved. Maugree his manye teeth he was maad that tyme

"And if that thou powerful be help now thyself,

If thou be Christ, and king’s son come down off the rood; Then shall we believe that Life thee loveth and will not let thee die!" "Consummatum est18," quoth Christ and began for to swoon Piteously and pale as a prisoner that dieth; The lord of life and of light then layed his eyes together. The day for dread withdrew and dark became the sun, The veil shook and was cleft and all the world quaked. Dead men for that din came out of deep graves, And told why that tempest so long time lasted. "For a bitter battle" the dead body said; "Life and Death in this darkness one undoes the other; Shall no wight know truly who shall have the mastery, Ere Sunday about sun-rising" and sank with that to earth. Some said that he was God's son that so fair died, Vere filius Dei erat iste, etc.19 And some said he was a witch "it is good that one try, Whether he be dead or not dead down ere he be taken." Two thieves also suffered death that time, Upon a cross beside Christ so was the common law. A catchpole came forth and cracked both their legs, And their arms after of each of those thieves. But was no boy so bold God’s body to touch; For he was knight and king’s son nature granted that time, That no rascal was so hardy to lay hand upon him. But there came forth a knight with a keen spear ground, Called Longinus20, as the story telleth and long had lost his sight. Before Pilate and the other people in the place he stood; Spite his many teeth he was made that time

18 It is finished. Christ's last words on the Cross, in the Latin Vulgate (John 19:30 : Cum ergo accepisset Jesus acetum, dixit: Consummatum est. Et inclinato capite tradidit spiritum.) 19 Truly this was the son of God.(Matthew 27:54) 20 The soldier with the spear in John 19:34, who became Longinus in the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus. Langland's knight is a typical instance of an anachronistic treatment of time.

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To [justen with Jesus, this blynde Jew Longeus].

To take the spear in his hand and joust with Jesus; For alle thei were unhardy, that hoved on horse For all they were afraid that waited on orstode, horse or stood, To touchen hym or to tasten hym or taken hym To touch him or to handle him or take him doun of roode, down off rood. But this blynde bacheler, that baar hym thorugh But this blind bachelor then struck him the herte. through the heart; The blood sprong doun by the spere and The blood sprung down by the spear and unspered the knyghtes eighen. unbarred the knight’s eyes. Thanne fil the knyght upon knees and cryde 90 Then fell the knight upon knees and cried Jesu mercy: him mercy – "Ayein my wille it was, Lord, to wownde yow so "Against my will it was, lord to wound you soore!" so sore!" He sighed and seide, "Soore it me athynketh! He sighed and said 'sore it methinketh; For the dede that I have doon I do me in youre For the deed that I have done deliver me to grace. your grace; Have on me ruthe, rightful Jesu!" – and right Have on me pity, righteous Jesus!" and with that he wepte. right with that he wept. Thanne gan Feith felly the false Jewes despise – 95 Then began Faith fiercely the false Jews to despise, Callede hem caytyves acorsed for evere: Called them caitives accursed for ever, "For this foule vileynye vengeaunce to yow falle! "For this foul villainy vengeance to you all! To do the blynde bete hym ybounde, it was a To make the blind beat him bound it was a boyes counseille. knave's counsel. Cursede caytyves! Knyghthood was it nevere Cursed caitiff knighthood was it never To mysdo a deed body by daye or by nyghte. 100 To ill treat a dead body by day or by night. The gree yit hath he geten, for al his grete The prize yet hath he gained for all his wounde. great wound. "For youre champion chivaler, chief knyght of For your champion of chivalry chief knight yow alle, of you all, Yilt hym recreaunt rennyng, right at Jesus wilk. Yields him defeated in the running right to Jesus' will. For be this derknesse ydo, Deeth worth For be this darkness done his death will be yvenquisshed; avenged, And ye, lurdaynes, han ylost – for Lif shal have 105 And ye, lordlings, have lost for Life shall the maistrye. have the mastery. And youre fraunchyse, that fre was, fallen is in And your franchise, that free was fallen thraldom, in thraldom, And ye, cherles, and youre children, cheve shulle And ye, churls, and your children succeed ye nevere, shall ye never, Ne have lordshipe in londe, ne no lond tilye, Nor have lordship in land nor no land till, But al barayne be and usurie usen, But all barren be and usury use, Which is lif that Oure Lord in alle lawes acurseth 110 Which is a life that our Lord in all laws curseth. Now youre goode dayes arn doon, as Daniel Now your good days are done as Daniel prophecied: prophesied, Whan Crist cam hir kyngdom the crowne sholde When Christ came, of their kingdom the lese – crown should fall; Cum veniat sanctus sanctorum cessabit unxio Cum veniat sanctus sanctum, cessabit vestra." unctio vestra21 What for feere of this ferly and of the false What with fear of this marvel and of the false Jews, Jewes, I drow me in that derknesse to descendit 115 I withdrew me in that darkness to descendit ad inferna, ad inferna22. 21 When the Holy of Holies comes, your anointing shall cease. (Daniel 9:24) 22 Descend into Hell. 66

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And there I saugh soothly, secundum scripturas, Out of the west coste, a wenche, as me thoughte, Cam walkynge in the wey; to helleward she loked. Mercy highte that mayde, a meke thyng with alle, A ful benigne burde, and buxom of speche. 120 Hir suster, as it semed, cam softely walkynge Evene out of the est, and westward she lokede – A ful comely creature [and a clene], Truthe she highte; For the vertue that hire folwede, afered was she nevere. Whan thise maydenes mette, Mercy and Truthe, 125 Either asked oother of this grete wonder – Of the dyn and of the derknesse, and how the day rowed, And which a light and a leme lay bifore helle. "Ich have ferly of this fare, in feith," seide Truthe, "And am wendynge to wite what this wonder meneth." "Have no merveille", quod Mercy, "murhte it bitokneth. A maiden that highte Marie, and moder withouten felyng Of any kynde creature, conceyved thorugh speche And grace of the Holy Goost; weex greet with childe; Withouten wem into this world she broghte hym; And that my tale be trewe, I take God to witnesse. "Sith this barn was ybore ben thritti wynter passed, Which deide and deeth tholed this day aboute mydday – And that is cause of this clips that closeth now the sonne, In menynge that man shal fro merknesse be drawe The while this light and this leme shal Lucifer ablende. For patriarkes and prophetes han preched herof often – That man shal man save thorugh a maydenes helpe, And that was tynt thorugh tree, tree shal it wynne, And that Deeth down broughte, deeth shal releve." "That thow tellest; quod Truthe, "is but a tale of waltrot!

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And there I saw sothly secundum scripturas23, Out of the west a wench, as me thought, Came walking in the way to Hell-ward she looked. Mercy was called that maid a meek thing withal, A full benign lady and gentle of speech. Her sister, as it seemed came softly walking, Even out of the east and westward she looked. A full comely creature Truth she was called , For the virtue that her followed afraid was she never. When these maidens met Mercy and Truth, Each asked the other of this great wonder, Of the din and of the darkness and how the day began to dawn, And what a light and a brightness lay before Hell. "I wonder at these happenings in faith," said Truth, "And am seeking to discover what this marvel meaneth." "Have no wonder," quoth Mercy "joy it betokeneth. A maiden called Mary and mother without knowledge Of any human creature conceived through speech And grace of the Holy Ghost waxed great with child; Without stain into this world she brought him; And that my tale be true I take God to witness. Since this child was born be thirty winters passed; Who died and death suffered this day about midday. And that is cause of this eclipse that closeth now the sun, In meaning that man shall from darkness be drawn, The while this light and this brightness shall Lucifer blind. For patriarchs and prophets have preached hereof often, That man shall man save through a maiden's help, And what was lost through tree tree shall it win , And what death down brought death shall relieve" "What thou tellest," quoth Truth "is but a tale of waltrot

23 According to the Scriptures.

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For Adam and Eve and Abraham with othere Patriarkes and prophetes that in peyne liggen, Leve thow nevere that yon light hem alofte brynge, Ne have hem out of helle – hold thi tonge, Mercy! It is but trufle that thow tellest – I, Truthe, woot the sothe. For that is ones in helle, out cometh it nevere; Job the prophete patriark repreveth thi sawes: Quia in inferno nulla est redempcio." Thanne Mercy ful myldely mouthed thise wordes: "Thorugh experience," quod he[o], "I hope thei shul be saved. For venym fordooth venym – and that I preve by reson. For of alle venymes foulest is the scorpion; May no medicyne [am]e[nd]e the place ther he styngeth, Til he be deed and do therto – the yvel he destruyeth, The firste venymouste, thorugh vertu of hymselve. So shal this deeth fordo – I dar my lif legge – Al that deeth dide first thorugh the develes entisyng; And right as thorugh [gilours] gil;e [bigiled wasman], So shal grace that al bigan make a good ende [And bigile the gilour – and that is good] sleighte: Ars ut artem falleret." "Now suffre we!" seide Truthe, "I se, as me thynketh, Out of the nyppe of the north, noght ful fer hennes, Rightwisnesse corne rennynge; reste we the while, For he[o] woot moore than we – he[o] was er we bothe." "That is sooth," seide Mercy, "and I se here by sowthe Where cometh Pees pleyinge, in pacience yclothed. Love hath coveited hire longe – leve I noon oother But [Love] sente hire som lettre, what this light bymeneth That overhoveth helle thus; she us shal telle." Whan Pees in pacience yclothed approched ner hem tweyne, Rightwisnesse hire reverenced for hir riche clothyng, And preide Pees to telle hire to whit place she wolde And in hire gaye garnements whom she grete thoughte? "My wil is to wende," quod she, "and welcome 24 Because there is no redemption in Hell. (Job 7:9) 25 Art by art would deceive. 68

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For Adam and Eve and Abraham with others, Patriarchs and prophets that in pain lie, Believe thou never that yon light them aloft will bring, Nor have them out of Hell hold thy tongue, Mercy! It is but a trifle that thou tellest I, Truth, know the soth. For that is once in Hell out cometh he never; Job the prophet, patriarch reproveth thy sayings, Quia in inferno nulla est redemptio24. Then Mercy full mildly mouthed these words, "Through experience," quoth she "I hope they shall be saved. For venom undoes venom and that I prove by reason. For of all venoms foulest is the scorpion, May no medicine help the place where he stingeth, Till he be dead and placed thereon the evil he destroyeth, The first venom through venom of himself. So shall this death undo I dare my life lay, All that Death undid first through the devil’s enticing: And right as through guile man was beguiled,

So shall grace that began make a good sleight; Ars ut artem falleret25." "Now stay we," said Truth "I see, as methinketh , Out of the cold of the north not full far hence, Righteousness come running rest we the while; 170 For she knows more than we she was ere we both." "That is soth," said Mercy "and I see here by south, Where Peace cometh playing in patience clothed; Love hath coveted her long believe I none other 175 But he sent her some letter what this light meaneth, That is over Hell thus she us shall tell." When Peace, in patience clothed approached near them twain, Righteousness her reverenced for her rich clothing, And prayed Peace to tell her to what place she went, 180 And in her gay garments whom greet she thought? "My will is to wend," quoth she I and

hem alle That many day myghte I noght se for merknesse of synne – Adam and Eve and othere mo in helle, Moyses and many mo; Mercy shul [synge], And I shal daunce therto – do thow so, suster! 185 For Jesus justede wel, joye bigynneth dawe: Ah vesperum demorabitur fletus, et ad matutinum leticia. "Love, that is my lemman, swiche lettres me sente That Mercy, my suster, and I mankynde sholde save, And that God hath forgyven and graunted me, 190 Pees, and Mercy To be mannes meynpernour for everemoore after. Lo, here the patente!" quod Pees, "ln pace in idipsum, And that this dede shal dure, dormiam et requiescam." "What, ravestow?" quod Rightwisnesse; "or thow art righty dronke! Levestow that yond light unlouke myghte helle 195 And save mannes soule? Suster, wene it nevere! At the bigynnyng God gaf the doom hymselve – That Adam and Eve and alle that hem suwede Sholden deye downrighte, and dwelle in peyne after If that thei touchede a tree and of the fruyt eten. Adam afterward, ayeins his defence, Freet of that fruyt, and forsook, as it were, The love of Oure Lord and his loore bothe And folwede that the fend taughte and his felawes wille Ayeins reson – I, Rightwisnesse, recorde thus with Truthe That hir peyne be perpetuel and no preiere hem helpe. Forthi lat hem chewe as thei chosen, and chide we noght, sustres, For it is botelees bale, the byte that thei eten." "And I shal preie," quod Pees, "hir peyne moot have ende, And wo into wele mowe wenden at the laste. For hadde thei wist of no wo, wele hadde thei noght knowen; For no wight woot what wele is, that nevere wo suffrede, Ne what is hoot hunger, that hadde nevere defaute. If no nyght ne weere, no man, as I leve, Sholde wite witterly what day is to meene. Sholde nevere right riche man that lyveth in

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welcome them all, That many day I might not see for murkyness of sin. Adam and Eve and others more in Hell, Moses and many more mercy shall have; And I shall dance thereto do thou so, sister! For Jesus jousted well joy beginneth to dawn; Ad vesperum demorabitur fletus, et ad matutinum laetitia26. Love, that is my lover such letters me sent, That Mercy, my sister, and I mankind should save; And that God hath forgiven and granted me, Peace, and Mercy, To be man’s surety for evermore after. Lo! here the patent!" quoth Peace "in pace in idipsum – And that this deed shall endure dormiam et requiescam27." "What, ravest thou?" quoth Righteousness "or thou art right drunk! I Believest thou that yonder light unlock might Hell, And save man's soul? sister, ween it never! At the beginning, God gave the judgement himself, That Adam and Eve and all that them followed Should die down right and dwell in pain after, If that they touched a tree and the fruit ate. Adam afterwards against his warning, Ate of that fruit and forsook, as it were, The love of our Lord and his lore both, And followed what the fiend taught and his fellow’s will, Against reason, I, Righteousness record thus with truth, That their punishment be perpetual and no prayer them help. Therefore let them chew as they chose and chide we not, sisters, For it is helpless harm the bite that they took." "And I shall prove," quoth Peace "their pain must have an end, And woe into well must wend at last; For had they wist of no woe well had they not known. For no wight knows what well is that never woe suffered, Nor what is called hunger that had never lack.

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26 Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning. 27 I will both lay me down in peace and sleep.

If no night were no man, as I believe, Would know clearly what day means; Would never right rich man that liveth in rest and ease

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reste and ese Wite what wo is, ne were the deeth of kynde. So God that bigan al of his goode wille Bicam man of a mayde mankynde to save, And suffrede to be sold, to se the sorwe of deying, The which unknytteth alle care, and comsynge is of reste. For til modicum mete with us, I may it wel avowe,

Know what woe is except for natural death.

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Woot no wight, as I wene, what is ynogh to mene. "Forthi God, of his goodnesse, the firste gome Adam, Sette hym in solace and in sovereyn murthe; And siththe he suffred hym synne, sorwe to feele To wite what wele was, kyndeliche to knowe it. And after, God auntrede hymself and took Adames kynde To wite what he hath suffred in thre sondry places, Bothe in hevene and in erthe – and now til helle he thenketh, To wite what alle wo is, that woot of alle joye. "So it shal fare by this folk: hir folie and hir synne Shal lere hem what langour is, and lisse withouten ende. Woot no wight what werre is ther that pees regneth, Ne what is witterly wele til 'weylawey' hymteche."

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Thanne was ther a wight with two brode eighen; Book highte that beaupeere, a bold man of speche. "By Goddes body!" quod this Book, "I wol bere witnesse That tho this barn was ybore, ther blased a sterre That alle the wise of this world in o wit acordeden 240 That swich a barn was ybore in Bethleem the citee That mannes soule sholde save and synne destroye. "And alle the elements," quod the Book, "herof beren witnesse. That he was God that al wroghte the wolkne first shewed: Tho that weren in hevene token stella comata And tendeden hire as a torche to reverencen his burthe; The light folwede the Lord into the lowe erthe. 28 Till we experience a small amount. 29 Father-in-law. 30 A comet 70

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So God that began all of his good will Became man of a maid mankind to save, And suffered himself to be sold to see the sorrow of dying, The which un-knitteth all care and commencing is of rest. For till modicum28 meet with us I may it well avow, Knows no wight, as I ween what enough means. "Therefore God of his goodness the first man Adam, Set him in solace and in sovereign mirth; And then he suffered him sin sorrow to feel, To see what well was truly to know it. And after, God ventured himself and took Adam's nature, To know what he hath suffered in three sundry places, Both in Heaven, and in earth and now to Hell he thinketh, To know what all woe is that knew of all joy. So it shall fare with these folk their folly and their sin, Shall teach them what anguish is and bliss without end. Knows no wight what war is where that peace reigneth, Nor what is indeed well till "wellaway" him teach." Then was there a wight with two broad eyes, Book was called the beau-père29· a bold man of speech. "By God's body," quoth this Book "I will bear witness, That when this child was born there blazed a star, That all the wise of this world in one thought accorded, That such a child was born in Bethlehem city, That man’s soul should save and sin destroy.

And all the elements," quoth the Book "hereof bear witness, That he was God that all wrought the welkin first showed; 245 Those that were in heaven took stella cometa30, And kindled her as a torch to reverence his birth; And light followed the Lord into the low earth.

The water witnesseth that he was God, for he wente on it; Peter the Apostel parceyved his gate, And as he wente on the water wel hym knew, and seide, "tube me venire ad te super aquas." And lo! how the sonne gan louke hire light in hirselve Whan she seigh hym suffre, that sonne and see made. The erthe for hevynesse that he wolde suffre Quaked as quyk thyng and al biquasshed the roche. "Lo! helle myghte nat holde, but opnede tho God tholede, And leet out Symondes sones to seen hym hange on roode. And now shal Lucifer leve it, though hyrn looth thynke. For Gigas the geaunt with a gyn engyned To breke and to bete adoun that ben ayeins Jesus.

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And I, Book, wole be brent, but Jesus rise to lyve In alle myghtes of man, and his moder gladie, And conforte al his kyn and out of care brynge, And al the Jewene joye unjoynen and unlouken; And but thei reverencen his roode and his resurexion, And bileve on a newe lawe, be lost, lif and soule!" "Suffre we!" seide Truthe, "1 here and see bothe A spirit speketh to helle and biddeth unspere the yates: "Attolite portas." A vois loude in that light to Lucifer crieth, "Prynees of this place, unpynneth and unlouketh! For here cometh with crowne that kyng is of glorie." Thanne sikede Sathan, and seide to helle, "Swich a light, ayeins oure leve, Lazar it fette; Care and combraunce is comen to us alle! If this kyng come in, mankynde wole he fecche, And lede it ther Lazar is, and lightliche me bynde. Patriarkes and prophetes han parled herof longe – That swich a lord and a light shal lede hem alle hennes." "Listneth!" quod Lucifer, "for I this lord knowe; Bothe this lord and this light, is longe ago I knew hym. May no deeth this lord dere, ne no develes

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The water witnessed that he was God for he went on it; Peter the apostle perceived his going, And as he went on the water well him knew, and said, Jube me venire ad te super aquas31. And lo! how the sun began to lock her light in herself, When she saw him suffer who sun and sea made! The earth for heaviness that he would suffer, Quaked as a live thing and all crushed the rock! Lo! Hell might not hold but opened when God suffered, And let out Simeon’s sons to see him hang on rood. And now shall Lucifer believe it though him loth think; For Gigas32 the giant with a weapon made To break and to beat down those that be against Jesus. And I, Book, will be burnt but Jesus rise to live, In all the might of man and his mother gladden, And comfort all his kin and out of care bring, And all the Jews’ joy dissolve and disjoin; And unless they reverence his rood and his resurrection, And believe on a new law be lost life and soul." "Abide we," said Truth "I hear and see both, How a spirit speaketh to hell · and bids unbar the gates; Attollite portas, etc."33 A voice loud in that light to Lucifer crieth, "Princes of this place unbolt and unlock! For here cometh with crown that king is of glory. Then sighed Satan and said to them all, 'such a light, against our leave Lazarus it fetched away; Care and confusion is come to us all. If this king come in mankind will he fetch, And lead it where he liketh and easily me bind. Patriarchs and prophets have talked hereof long, That such a lord and a light should lead them all hence." "Listen," quoth Lucifer "for I this lord know, Both this lord and this light it is long ago I knew him. May no death him harm nor no devil’s cunning,

31 Bid me come to thee upon the waters. (Matthew 14:28) 32 Giant (Greek) 33 Lift up your gates (Psalms 23:9).

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queyntise, And where he wole, is his wey – ac ware hym of the perils! If he reve me of my right, he robbeth me by maistrie; For by right and by reson the renkes that ben here Body and soule beth myne, bothe goode and ille. For hymself seide, that sire is of hevene, That if Adam ete the appul, alle sholde deye, And dwelle [in deol] with us develes – this thretynge he made. And [sithen] he that Soothnesse is seide thise wordes, And I sithen iseised sevene [thousand] wynter, I leeve that lawe nyl noght lete hym the leeste." "That is sooth," seide Satan, "but I me soore drede; For thow gete hem with gile, and his gardyn breke, And in semblaunce of a serpent sete on the appultre, And eggedest hem to ete, Eve by hirselve, And toldest hire a tale – of treson were the wordes; And so thou haddest hem out and hider at the laste. It is noght graithly geten, ther gile is the roote!" "For God wol noght be bigiled," quod Gobelyn, "ne byjaped. We have no trewe title to hem, for thorugh treson were thei dampned." "Certes, I drede me," quod the Devel, "lest Truthe wol hem fecche. Thise thritty wynter, as I wene, he wente aboute and preched. I have assailled hym with synne, and som tyme I asked Wheither he were God or Goddes sone – he gaf me short answere; And thus hath he trolled forth thise two and thritty wynter. And whan I seigh it was so, slepynge I wente To warne Pilates wif what done man was Jesus; For Jewes hateden hym and han doon hym to dethe. I wolde have lengthed his lif – for I leved, if he deide, That his soule wolde suffre no synne in his sighte; For the body, while it on bones yede, aboute was evere To save men from synne if hemself wolde. 72

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And where he will, is his way but ware him of the perils, If he reave me of my right he robbeth me by mastery. For by right and by reason those people that be here Body and soul be mine both good and ill. For himself said that sire is of heaven, If Adam eat the apple all should die, And dwell with us devils this threat he made;

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And he that truth is said these words; And since I have been in possession seven hundred winters, I believe that law will not let him in the least." "That is soth," said Satan "but I me sore dread,

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For thou gained them with guile and his garden broke, And in semblance of a serpent sat on the apple-tree, And egged them on to eat Eve by herself, And told her a tale of treason were the words; And so thou haddest them out and hither at last. It is not easily held where guile is the root." "For God will not be beguiled" quoth Goblin, "nor tricked; We have no true title to them for through treason were they damned. "Certes, I dread me," quoth the Devil "lest truth will them fetch. This thirty winter, as I ween hath he gone and preached; I have assailed him with sin and at some time asked Whether he were God or God's son? he gave me short answer. And thus he walked forth this two and thirty winter, And when I saw it was so sleeping, I went To warn Pilate’s wife what sort of man was Jesus; For Jews hated him and have done him to death. I would have lengthened his life for I believed, if he died, That his soul would suffer no sin in his sight. For the body, while it on bones went about was ever To save men from sin if they themselves would.

And now I se wher a soule cometh [silynge hiderward] With glorie and with gret light – God it is, I woot wel! "I rede we fle," quod he, "faste alle hennes" – For us were bettre noght be than biden his sighte. For thi lesynges, Lucifer, lost is al oure praye. First thorugh the we fellen fro hevene so heighe; For we leved thi lesynges, we lopen out alle with thee; And now for thi laste lesynge, ylorn we have Adam, And al oure lordshipe, I leve, a londe and a watre: Nunc Princeps huius mundi eicietur foras." Eft the light bad unlouke, and Lucifer answerde, "Quis est iste ? What lord artow?" quod Lucifer. The light soone seide, Rex glorie, The lord of myght and of mayn and alle manere vertues – Dominus virtutum. Dukes of this dymme place, anoon undo thise yates, That Crist may come in, the Kynges sone of Hevene!" And with that breeth helle brak, with Belialles barres – For any wye or warde, wide open the yates. Patriarkes and prophetes, populus in tenebris, Songen Seint Johanes song, "Ecce Agnus Dei." Lucifer loke ne myghte, so light hym ablente. And tho that Oure Lord lovede, into his light he laughte, And seide to Sathan, "Lo! here my soule to amendes For alle synfulle soules, to save tho that ben worthi. Myne thei ben and of me – I may the bet hem cleyme. Although reson recorde, and right of myselve, That if thei ete the appul, alle sholde deye, I bihighte hem noght here helle for evere. For the dede that thei dide, thi deceite it made; With gile thow hem gete, ageyn alle reson. For in my paleis, Paradis, in persone of an addre,

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And now I see where a soul cometh hitherward sailing. With glory and with great light God it is, I know well. "I advise we flee," quoth he "fast all hence; For us were better not be than abide his sight. For thy lies, Lucifer lost is all our prey. First through thee we fell from heaven so high; Because we believed thy lies we leapt out all with thee, And now for thy last lie lost we have Adam, And all our lordship, I believe on land and on water; Nunc princeps hujus mundi ejicietur foras34." Again the light bade unlock and Lucifer answered, "What lord art thou?" quoth Lucifer "quis est iste35?" "Rex gloriae36" the light soon said, "And lord of might and of main and all manner of virtues; dominus virtutum37; Dukes of this dim place anon undo these gates. That Christ may come in the king’s son of heaven." And with that breath Hell broke and Belial’s bars, Inspite of wight or ward wide open the gates. Patriarchs and prophets populus in tenebris38, Sang Saint John's song "ecce agnus Dei39." Lucifer might not look so light him blinded; And those that our Lord loved into his light he took, And said to Satan, "lo! here my soul to amend For all sinful souls to save those that be worthy. Mine they be and of me I may the better them claim. Although reason record and right of myself, That if they eat the apple all should die, I promised them not here Hell for ever. For the deed that they did thy deceit it made; With guile thou them got against all reason. For in my palace, paradise in person of an adder,

34 Now shall the prince of this world be cast out (Jn 12:31). 35 Who is that? 36 The King of Glory.(Ps 23:10) 37 The lord of virtue. 38 The people in darkness. ( Cf Is 9:2). 39 Behold the Lamb of God. (Jn 1:36)

Piers Plowman

Falsliche thow fettest there thyng that I lovede. "Thus ylik a lusard with a lady visage, Thefliche thow me robbedest; the Olde Lawe graunteth That gilours be bigiled – and that is good reson: Dentem pro dente et oculum pro oculo. Ergo soule shal soule quyte and synne to synne wende, And al that man hath mysdo, I, man, wole amende it. Membre for membre [was amendes by the Olde Lawe], And lif for lif also – and by that lawe I clayme Adam and al his issue at my wille herafter. And that deeth in hem fordide, my deeth shal releve, And bothe quyke and quyte that queynt was thorugh synne; And that grace gile destruye, good feith it asketh. So leve it noght, Lucifer, ayein the lawe I fecche hem, But by right and by reson raunsone here my liges: Non veni solvere legem set adimplere. "Thow fettest myne in my place ayeins alle reson Falsliche and felonliche; good feith me it taughte, To recovere hem thorugh raunsoun, and by no reson ellis, So that with gile thow gete, thorugh grace it is ywonne. Thow, Lucifer, in liknesse of a luther addere Getest bi gile tho that God lovede; And I, in liknesse of a leode, that Lord am of hevene, Graciousliche thi gile have quyt – go gile ayein gile! And as Adam and alle thorugh a tree deyden, Adam and alle thorugh a tree shal turne to lyve; And gile is bigiled, and in his gile fallen: Et cecidit in foveam quam fecit. Now bigynneth thi gile ageyn thee to turne And my grace to growe ay gretter and widder. The bitternesse that thow hast browe, now brouke it thiselve; That art doctour of deeth, drynk that thow madest! "For I that am lord of lif, love is my drynke, And for that drynke today, I deide upon erthe.

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40 Eye for eye, tooth for tooth. (Ex. 21:24). 41 I am come not to destroy the law, but to fulfil. (Mt 5:17) 42 He is fallen into the hole he made.(Ps.7:16) 74

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Falsely thou fetchest thence thing that I loved. Thus like a lizard with a lady’s visage, Like a thief thou me robbest the old law granteth, That beguilers be beguiled and that is good reason; Dentem pro dente, et oculum pro oculo40. Ergo, soul shall soul quit · and sin drive out sin, And all that man hath misdone I, man, will amend. Member for member by the old law made amends, And life for life also and by that law I claim it, Adam and all his issue · at my will hereafter. And what death in them undid my death shall relieve, And both quicken and purchase what was destroyed through sin; And that grace guile destroy good faith it asketh. So believe it not, Lucifer that against the law I fetch them, But by right and by reason ransom here my lieges: Non veni solvere legem, sed adimplere41. Thou fetchest mine from my place against all reason, Falsely and feloniously good faith me it taught, To recover them through ransom and by no reason else, So what with guile thou got through grace it is won. Thou, Lucifer, in likeness of a wicked adder, Got by guile those that God loved; And I, in likeness of a man that lord am of Heaven, Graciously thy guile have requited go guile against guile! And as Adam and all through a tree died, Adam and all through a tree shall turn again to life; And guile is beguiled and in his guile fallen: Et cecidit infoveam quam fecit42. Now beginneth thy guile against thee to turn, And my grace to grow ever greater and wider. The bitterness that thou hast brewed enjoy it thyself, That art doctor of death drink what thou madest! "For I, that am lord of life love is my drink, And for that drink today I died upon earth.

I faught so, me thursteth yet, for mannes soule sake; May no drynke me moiste, ne my thurst stake, Til the vendage falle in the vale of Josaphat, That I drynke right ripe must, resureccio mortuorum. And thanne shal I come as a kyng, crouned, with aungeles, And have out of helle alle mennes soules. "Fendes and fendekynes bifore me shul stande And be at my biddyng wheresoevere [be] me liketh. Ac to be merciable to man thanne, my kynde it asketh, For we beth bretheren of blood, but noght in baptisme alle. Ac alle that beth myne hole bretheren, in blood and in baptisme, Shul noght be dampned to the deeth that is withouten ende: Tibi soli peccavi &c. "It is noght used on erthe to hangen a feloun Ofter than ones, though he were a tretour. And if the kyng of that kyngdom corne in that tyme There the feloun thole sholde deeth oother juwise, Lawe wolde he yeve hym lif, and he loked on hym. And I that am kyng of kynges shal come swich a tyme There doom to the deeth dampneth alle wikked; And if lawe wole I loke on hem, it lith in my grace Wheither thei deye or deye noght for that thei diden ille. Be it any thyng abought, the boldnesse of hir synnes, I may do mercy thorugh rightwisnesse, and alle my wordes trewe. And though Holy Writ wole that I be wroke of hem that diden ille – Nullum malum impunitum &c – Thei shul be clensed clerliche and [clene] wasshen of hir synnes In my prisone Purgatorie, til parce it hote. And my mercy shal be shewed to manye of my bretheren; For blood may suffre blood bothe hungry and acale, Ac blood may noght se blood blede, but hym rewe."

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I fought so, I thirst yet for man's soul's sake; May no drink me moist nor my thirst slake, Till the vintage fall in the vale of Jehoshaphat, And I drink right ripe must resurrectio mortuorum43, And then shall I come as a king crowned with angels, And have out of Hell all men’s souls. "Fiends and fiendkins before me shall stand, And be at my bidding wheresoere me liketh. And to be merciful to man then my nature asketh; For we be bretheren of blood but not in baptism all. But all that be my whole bretheren in blood and in baptism, Shall not be damned to the death that is without end; Tibi soli peccavi, etc.44 It is not the custom on earth to hang a felon More than once though he were a traitor. And if the king of that kingdom come in that time, Where the felon suffer should death or otherwise, Law wills, he give him life if he looked on him.

And I, that am king of kings shall come in such a time, Where judgement to the death damneth all wicked; And if law wills I look on them · it lieth 400 in my grace, Whether they die or die not for what they did ill.

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Be it anything bought the boldness of their sins, I may do mercy through righteousness and all my words true. And though holy writ wills that I be avenged on them that did ill, Nullum malum impunitum, etc.45 They shall be cleansed clearly and washed of their sins In my prison Purgatory till parce is called, And my mercy shall be showed to many of my bretheren. For blood may suffer blood both hungry and a cold, But blood may not see blood bleed, without pity.

43 The resurrection of the dead. 44 To thee only I have sinned. (Ps. 50:6) 45 No evil shall go unpunished.

Piers Plowman

Auaivi archana verba que non iicet homini loqui. "Ac my rightwisnesse and right shal rulen al helle, And mercy al mankynde bifore me in hevene. For I were an unkynde kyng but I my kyn helpe – And nameliche at swich a nede ther nedes help bihoveth: Non intres in iudicium cum servo tuo. "Thus by lawe," quod Oure Lord, "lede I wole fro hennes Tho [leodes] that I lov[e] and leved in my comynge. And for thi lesynge, Lucifer, that thow leighe til Eve, Thow shalt abyen it bittre!"– and bond hym with cheynes. As troth and al the route hidden hem in hernes; They dorste noght loke on Oure Lord, the [lothli]este of hem alle, But leten hym lede forth what hym liked and lete what hym liste. Manye hundred of aungeles harpeden and songen, "Culpat caro, purgat caro, regnat Deus Dei caro." Thanne pipede Pees of poesie a note: "Clarior est solito post maxima nebula phebus; Post inimicicias clarior est et amor. "After sharpest shoures," quod Pees, "moost shene is the sonne; Is no weder warmer than after watry cloudes; Ne no love levere; ne lever frendes Than after werre and wo, whan love and pees ben maistres. Was nevere werre in this world, ne wikkednesse so kene, "That Love, and hym liste, to laughyng ne broughte, And Pees, thorugh pacience, alle perils stoppede." "Trewes!" quod Truthe; "thow tellest us sooth, by Jesus! Clippe we in covenaunt, and ech of us kisse oother." "And lete no peple," quod Pees, "parceyve that we chidde; For inpossible is no thyng to Hym that is almyghty."

Audivi arcana verba, quae non licet homini loqui46. But my righteousness and right shall rule all Hell, And mercy all mankind before me in Heaven. For I were an unkind king unless I my kindred helped, 415 And above all at such need when help needs must come; Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine47. "Thus by law," quoth our Lord "lead I will from hence Those that me loved and believed in my coming. And for thy lying, Lucifer that thou told to Eve, 420

Thou shalt abide it bitterly" and bound him with chains. Ashtoreth and all the rout hid them in corners, They dared not look on our Lord the boldest of them all, But let him lead forth what he liked and allowed him what he pleased. Many hundreds of angels harped and sung,

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Culpat caro, purgat caro; regnat Deus Dei caro48. Then piped Peace of poesy a note, "Clarior est solito post maxima nebula Phoebus, Post inimicitias clarior est et amor49. After sharp showers," quoth Peace "most glorious is the sun; Is no weather warmer than after watery clouds. Nor no love dearer nor dearer friends, Than after war and woe when Love and Peace be masters. Was never war in this world nor wickedness so keen, That Love, if he pleased could not bring to laughter, And Peace through patience all perils stopped."

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"Truce," quoth Truth "thou tellest us soth, by Jesus. Clip we in covenant and each of us kiss the other!" "And let no people," quoth Peace "perceive that we chid? For impossible is no thing to him that is almighty."

46 I heard secret words which it is not granted to man to utter. (11 Cor.12:4) 47 Lord, enter not into judgement with thy servant. (Ps. 142:2) 48 Flesh sins, flesh frees from sin, as God now reigns, God flesh within ( Aeterne Rex Altuissime, St,4., Matins Ascension Hymn, Roman Breviary). 49 After much cloud the sun we brighter see,/ Love brighter, also, after enmity. (Alanus de Insulis, Liber Parabolorum, P.L. 210, 581-2). 76

Piers Plowman

"Thow seist sooth," seide Rightwisnesse, and reverentliche hire kiste, Pees, and Pees h[i]re, per secula seculorum. Misericordia et Veritas obviaverunt sibi, justicia et Pax osculate sunt. Truthe trumpede tho and song Te Deum laudamus, And thanne lutede Love in a loud note, "Ecce quam bonum et quam iocundum &c." Til the day dawed thise damyseles carolden, That men rongen to the resurexion – and right with that I wakede, And called Kytte my wif and Calote my doghter: "Ariseth and reverenceth Goddes resurexion, And crepeth to the cros on knees, and kisseth it for a juwel! For Goddes blik body it bar for eure body, And it afereth the fend – for swich is the myghte, May no grisly goost glide there it shadweth!"

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"Thou sayest soth," said Righteousness and reverently her kissed, Peace, and Peace her per saecula saeculorum50. Misericordia et veritas obviaverunt sibi; justitia et pax osculatae sunt51. Truth trumpeted then, and sang "Te Deum laudamus52"; And then played Love the lute in a loud note, 445 Ecce quam banum et jocundum, etc.53 Till the day dawned these damsels danced, That men rang in the resurrection and right with that I waked, And called Kit my wife and Calot my daughter – "Arise and reverence God’s resurrection, 450 And creep to the cross on knees and kiss it for a jewel For God's blessed body it bore for our saving, And it frighteneth the fiend for such is the might, May no grisly ghost glide near its shadow!"

50 For ever and ever. 51 Mercy and truth have met each other; justice and peace have kissed. (Ps 84:11) 52 We praise you, God. 53 Behold how good and how pleasant it is. (Ps 132:1)

Piers Plowman

THE GENERAL PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES Geoffrey Chaucer is generally considered the first great poet writing in English. He is also the first poet of whom we know a good deal. Born around the year 1340, most probably in London, in the household of a prosperous wine merchant, Chaucer embarked early on an illustrious career in public service. Records show that in 1357 he served as page to Elizabeth de Burgh, Countess of Ulster. In 1360 he was captured by the French during the siege of Rheims and ransomed by the king. Subsequently, he travelled on diplomatic missions to France, Genoa and Florence. About 1366 Chaucer married Philippa de Rouet, a lady-in-waiting to Edward III’s queen and sister to Katherine Swynford, who later became wife of John of Gaunt – Edward III’s third son and one of the most powerful noblemen in the kingdom. In 1374 Chaucer was appointed controller of the London customs. In 1386 he became a Member of Parliament for Kent and served as justice of the peace. In 1389 he became clerk of the king’s works supervising public construction projects. In parallel to this, Chaucer developed the unprecedented literary career for which he was remembered. His first major literary work was The Book of the Duchess an elegy for Blanch of Lancaster – the first wife of his patron John of Gaunt. It was soon followed by Anelida and Arcite, The House of Fame, The Parliament of Fowls, Troilus and Criseyde, The Legend of Good Women. He also translated important works, such as Boethius’ Consolatio Philosophiae and the French Roman de la Rose. All this culminated in his most significant work The Canterbury Tales. The Canterbury Tales is a collection of diverse tales embedded into a frame narrative which tells the story of 34 pilgrims who agreed to entertain each other on their journey to the shrine of St. Thomas Becket by telling two tales each on the way to Canterbury and two more on the way back. The work survives in some 83 manuscripts that contain different fragments of the work – 24 tales and the General Prologue. The popularity of the collection is also attested by the fact that they made up the first book to be printed in the English language when William Caxton set up the first printing press in Westminster in 1476. The flexible poetic style together with the resourceful use of the vernacular contributed to both the popularisation and the development of the English language as a literary medium. The generic diversity of the stories, not untypical for medieval miscellanies, is used alongside the narrator’s perspicacious descriptions for the creation of the vigorous literary voices and the memorable characters of the pilgrims. Chaucer’s critical examination of late medieval society in the tales is counterbalanced by his compassionate protohumanist interest in the individual and the actual state of human nature. -G.N.

The Canterbury Tales

Here bygynneth the Book of the tales of Caunterbury Whan that aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of march hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open ye (so priketh hem nature in hir corages); Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende Of engelond to caunterbury they wende, The hooly blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. Bifil that in that seson on a day, In southwerk at the tabard as I lay Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage To caunterbury with ful devout corage, At nyght was come into that hostelrye Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye, Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle, That toward caunterbury wolden ryde. The chambres and the stables weren wyde, And wel we weren esed atte beste. And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, So hadde I spoken with hem everichon That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, And made forward erly for to ryse, To take oure wey ther as I yow devyse. But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space, Er that I ferther in this tale pace, Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun To telle yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, And whiche they weren, and of what degree, And eek in what array that they were inne; And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.

showers; soothing drought; pierced vein; such flower also sun the Ram1; run birds eyes pricks them; to ramp and rage desire to go to seek out foreign strands distant shrines; known shire’s2 went holy blessed martyr; seek3 helped them; sick befell 4 Southwark ; Tabard5 ready to go hostelry twenty-nine sundry; gathered by chance fellowship would ride were wide eased at the best when the sun went to rest every one their agreed to rise early to make our way; as I will relate nonetheless; while before it seems to me condition each of them who they were how they were arrayed will

1 The constellation Aries. 2 Administrative unit for the division of land. 3 The most popular pilgrimage destination in England in those days was the Shrine of Thomas Becket in Canterbury Cathedral 4 At the time Sowthwark was a small satellite town right outside of London in the marshy area around the river Thames. 5 One of the many inns that accommodated the numerous pilgrims headed to Canterbury.

The Canterbury Tales

The Knight's Portrait A knyght ther was, and that a worthy man, That fro the tyme that he first bigan To riden out, he loved chivalrie, Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie. Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre, As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse, And evere honoured for his worthynesse. At alisaundre he was whan it was wonne. Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne Aboven alle nacions in pruce; In lettow hadde he reysed and in ruce, No cristen man so ofte of his degree. In gernade at the seege eek hadde he be Of algezir, and riden in belmarye. At lyeys was he and at satalye, Whan they were wonne; and in the grete see At many a noble armee hadde he be. At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene, And foughten for oure feith at tramyssene In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo. This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also Somtyme with the lord of palatye Agayn another hethen in turkye. And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys; And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meeke as is a mayde. He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde In al his lyf unto no maner wight. He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght. But, for to tellen yow of his array, His hors were goode, but he was nat gay. Of fustian he wered a gypon Al bismotered with his habergeon, For he was late ycome from his viage, And wente for to doon his pilgrymage.

there from to ride about truth; courtesy lord's war farther than any man Christendom Alexandria6 often he began the game Prussia Latvia raided he and Russia7 more often than any Christian in Granada at the siege of Algeciras, and in Belmarie8 Ayas and Satalye9 won; The Great Sea10 battles; fifteen Tramissene11 lists; foe12 same Palatye13 against sovereign prize wise behaved as meekly villainy any human being verily perfect horses of fustian he wore a jupon14 besmeared by his (rusty) habergeon15 voyage do

6 The city of Alexandria in Egypt was looted by Pierre de Lusignan, king of Cyprus, in the so called "Alexandria Crusade" (1365). 7 When knights wanted employment it was usual for them to go and serve in Prussia and aid the knights of the Teutonic order fight with neighbouring nations in Lithuania and Russia. 8 The city of Algesiras, today in Spain, west of Gibraltar, was taken by the Moorish king of Granada in 1344; Belmarie was one of the Moorish kingdoms on the northern coast of Africa. 9 The two places, the former today in Armenia and the latter in Turkey, were raided by Pierre de Lusignan in 1367 and 1352 respectively. 10 The Mediterranean 11 Tramassene was another Moorish kingdom in northern Africa. 12 "The lists" is the enclosed field of combat in martial tournaments. 13 A province in Anatolia, Turkey 14 A short doublet of simple hardwearing cloth. 15 A light sleeveless coat of mail worn under the plated hauberk 80

The Canterbury Tales

The Squire's Portrait With hym ther was his sone, a yong squier, A lovyere and a lusty bacheler, With lokkes crulle as they were leyd in presse. Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthe. And he hadde been somtyme in chyvachie In flaundres, in artoys, and pycardie, And born hym weel, as of so litel space, In hope to stonden in his lady grace. Embrouded was he, as it were a meede Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and reede. Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day; He was as fressh as is the month of may. Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde. Wel koude he sitte on hors and faire ryde. He koude songes make and wel endite, Juste and eek daunce, and weel purtreye and write. So hoote he lovede that by nyghtertale. He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale. Curteis he was, lowely, and servysable, And carf biforn his fader at the table.

average wondrously nimble military campaign Flanders, Artois and Picardy17 borne himself well for his age to win his lady's grace embroidered; meadow flowers white and red fluting could compose joust; dance; portray (draw) hot; by night,

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The Yeoman's Portrait A yeman hadde he and servantz namo At that tyme, for hym liste ride so, And he was clad in cote and hood of grene. A sheef of pecok arwes, bright and kene, Under his belt he bar ful thriftily, (wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly His arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe) And in his hand he baar a myghty bowe. A not heed hadde he, with a broun visage. Of wodecraft wel koude he al the usage. Upon his arm he baar a gay bracer, And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler, And on that oother syde a gay daggere Harneised wel and sharp as point of spere; A cristopher on his brest of silver sheene. An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of grene; A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse.

squire16 bachelor locks curled

courteous; humble; servicable assisted his father at the table

yeoman18

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no more servants he chose to travel so coat and hood of green sheaf of peacock arrows bore; carefully tackle drooped bore; bow. cropped head; sun-tanned face bracer19 sword and buckler dagger harnessed St. Christopher20 baldric forester

16 A young man who attended a knight at times of war and bore his shield; usually the eldest son of the knight. 17 Today territories in Belgium and France. 18 A lesser servant of common birth (young man). 19 A leather guard worn to protect the arm. 20 Patron saint of travelers.

The Canterbury Tales

The Prioress' Portrait Ther was also a nonne, a prioresse, That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy; Hire gretteste ooth was but by seinte loy; And she was cleped madame eglentyne. Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne, Entuned in hir nose ful semely, And frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly, After the scole of stratford atte bowe, For frenssh of parys was to hire unknowe. At mete wel ytaught was she with alle She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, Ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe; Wel koude she carie a morsel and wel kepe That no drope ne fille upon hire brest. In curteisie was set ful muchel hir lest. Hir over-lippe wyped she so clene That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte. Ful semely after hir mete she raughte. And sikerly she was of greet desport, And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port, And peyned hire to countrefete cheere Of court, and to been estatlich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence. But, for to speken of hire conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous She wolde wepe, if that she saugh a mous Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. Of smale houndes hadde she that she fedde With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed. But soore wepte she if oon of hem were deed, Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte; And al was conscience and tendre herte. Ful semyly hir wympul pynched was, Hir nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas, Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed; But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed; It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe; For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe. Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war. Of smal coral aboute hire arm she bar A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene, And theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene, On which ther was first write a crowned a, And after amor vincit omnia.

nun; prioress21 120

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oath; ‘By Saint Eloy!’22 called; Eglantine23 sang; divine intoning; becomingly French; fair and fluently Stratford-at-the-Bow24 Paris she had good table manners deep keep breast much of her lust (delight) upper lip cup; farthing (nothing) grease for food she reached certainly; great disposition behaviour made special effort stately manners be held worthy of reverence her piteous weep; saw caught; dead or bled small dogs white bread sore she would weep smote; stick tender heart wimple fine red certainly; forehead broad; I assure you undergrown neat; aware coral; wore a string of beads hang; shiny a crowned "A" Love conquers all things 25

21 Nun second in authority (after the abbess) in a convent. 22 Probably Saint Louis 23 The name is of French origin and means “wild rose.” 24 In Chaucer’s day a town not far from London. 25 A popular line from Virgil’s Eclogues, which continues: “et nos cedamus amori” (let us too surrender to love). 82

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The Second Nun's Portrait Another nonne with hire hadde she,

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her

The three priests That was hir chapeleyne, and preestes thre.

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chaplain; three priests

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excellent above all others outrider; venery

The Monk's Portrait A monk ther was, a fair for the maistrie, An outridere, that lovede venerie, A manly man, to been an abbot able. Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable, And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere And eek as loude as dooth the chapel belle. Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle, The reule of seint maure or of seint beneit, By cause that it was old and somdel streit This ilke monk leet olde thynges pace, And heeld after the newe world the space. He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen, That seith that hunters ben nat hooly men, Ne that a monk, whan he is recchelees, Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees, -This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre. But thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre; And I seyde his opinion was good. What sholde he studie and make hymselven wood, Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure, Or swynken with his handes, and laboure, As austyn bit? how shal the world be served? Lat austyn have his swynk to hym reserved! Therfore he was a prikasour aright Grehoundes he hadde as swift as fowel in flight; Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. I seigh his sleves purfiled at the hond With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond; And, for to festne his hood under his chyn, He hadde of gold ywroght a ful curious pyn; A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was. His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas, And eek his face, as he hadde been enoynt. He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt; His eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed, That stemed as a forneys of a leed; His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat. Now certeinly he was a fair prelaat; He was nat pale as a forpyned goost. A fat swan loved he best of any roost. His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.

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dainty horses rode; bridle hear jingling; as clear also keeper of the cell Saint Maur or Saint Benedict26 somewhat strict let leaned towards; in their place cared not; a plucked hen said that hunters are not holy men cloisterless likened; out of water held not worth an oyster mad to pore swink As Austin bids?27 rider bird riding for which lined grey fur fasten made of gold the larger end bald anointed steep gleamed as a furnace supple; great estate prelate poor wasted ghost roast as brown as a berry

26 The Benedictine Order. 27 St. Augustine.

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The Friar's Portrait A frere ther was, a wantowne and a merye, A lymytour, a ful solempne man. In alle the ordres foure is noon that kan So muchel of daliaunce and fair langage. He hadde maad ful many a mariage Of yonge wommen at his owene cost. Unto his ordre he was a noble post. Ful wel biloved and famulier was he With frankeleyns over al in his contree, And eek with worthy wommen of the toun; For he hadde power of confessioun, As seyde hymself, moore than a curat, For of his ordre he was licenciat. Ful swetely herde he confessioun, And plesaunt was his absolucioun He was an esy man to yeve penaunce, Ther as he wiste to have a good pitaunce. For unto a povre ordre for to yive Is signe that a man is wel yshryve; For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a man was repentaunt; For many a man so hard is of his herte, He may nat wepe, althogh hym soore smerte. Therfore in stede of wepynge and preyeres Men moote yeve silver to the povre freres. His typet was ay farsed ful of knyves And pynnes, for to yeven faire wyves. And certeinly he hadde a murye note Wel koude he synge and pleyen on a rote; Of yeddynges he baar outrely the pris. His nekke whit was as the flour-de-lys; Therto he strong was as a champioun. He knew the tavernes wel in every toun And everich hostiler and tappestere Bet than a lazar or a beggestere; For unto swich a worthy man as he Acorded nat, as by his facultee, To have with sike lazars aqueyntaunce. It is nat honest, it may nat avaunce, For to deelen with no swich poraille, But al with riche and selleres of vitaille. And over al, ther as profit sholde arise, Curteis he was and lowely of servyse. Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous. He was the beste beggere in his hous; (and yaf a certeyne ferme for the graunt; Noon of his bretheren cam ther in his haunt;) For thogh a wydwe hadde noght a sho,

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wanton and merry limiter; solemn28 Four Orders; knows29 dalliance marriages pillar familiar also; town confession more than a curate licentiate30 kindly absolution easy; penance knew; pittance begging friar; give shriven dared to boast of this knew; repentant hard of heart they; although their pain may be great instead should give tippet; always full of knives pins merry note play upon the rote31 balladry; won the prize. lily Although; champion host and barmaid better than the lepers and beggars such

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sick lepers for acquaintances it is not advantageous to deal with the poor victuals

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courteous; humbly of service virtuous a district was granted to him dared approach it widow; nothing but one shoe

28 Limiters were friars who had license to beg within a certain area. 29 In England at the time there were four main orders of friars: The Franciscans (Grey Friars), The Augustines (Augustin Friars), the Dominicans (Black Friars), and the Carmelites (White Friars). 30 A clergyman licensed by the Pope to hear confessions and give absolution for all sins. 31 A medieval violin-like instrument. 84

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So plesaunt was his in principio, Yet wolde he have a ferthyng, er he wente. His purchas was wel bettre than his rente. And rage he koude, as it were right a whelp. In love-dayes ther koude he muchel help, For ther he was nat lyk a cloysterer With a thredbare cope, as is a povre scoler, But he was lyk a maister or a pope. Of double worstede was his semycope, That rounded as a belle out of the presse. Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantownesse, To make his englissh sweete upon his tonge; And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde songe, His eyen twynkled in his heed aryght, As doon the sterres in the frosty nyght. This worthy lymytour was cleped huberd.

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In the beginning32 farthing; before his earnings; his income romp; whelp much not like threadbare cape; poor scholar lord double worsted33 wantonness was singing head as do the stars was named Hubert

The Merchant's Portrait A marchant was ther with a forked berd, In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat; Upon his heed a flaundryssh bever hat, His bootes clasped faire and fetisly. His resons he spak ful solempnely, Sownynge alwey th' encrees of his wynnyng. He wolde the see were kept for any thyng Bitwixe middelburgh and orewelle. Wel koude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle. This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette, So estatly was he of his governaunce With his bargaynes and with his chevyssaunce. For sothe he was a worthy man with alle, But, sooth to seyn, I noot how men hym calle.

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there was motley dress; high Flemish beaver hat neat solemnly emphasizing his success wanted between Middleburgh and Orwell34 money exchange; French crowns used his knowledge to his advantage no one could say he was in debt, so well managed he his trade financial instruments truly; withal know not

The Clerk's Portrait A clerk ther was of oxenford also, That unto logyk hadde longe ygo. As leene was his hors as is a rake, And he nas nat right fat, I undertake, But looked holwe, and therto sobrely Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy; For he hadde geten hym yet no benefice, Ne was so worldly for to have office. hym was levere have at his beddes heed Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed, Of aristotle and his philosophie, Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie.

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scholar; Oxford devoted himself lean thin and went poorly overcoat churchly benefice35 rather have at his bed's head bound Aristotle fiddle; psaltery

32 The beginning of St. John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word.” 33 Double thick woolen cloth. 34 The merchant wanted that he sea passage between Middleburgh in the Netherlands and Orwell in Suffolk was guarded at any cost, so that his ships were not taken by pirates. 35 An ecclesiastical living, an office held in return for duties and to which an income attaches.

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But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; But al that he myghte of his freendes hente, On bookes and on lernynge he it spente, And bisily gan for the soules preye Of hem that yaf hym wherwith to scoleye. Of studie took he moost cure and moost heede, Noght o word spak he moore than was neede, And that was seyd in forme and reverence, And short and quyk and ful of hy sentence; Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche, And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche.

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philosopher his coffer borrow from his friends pray for the souls those who gave him wherewithal utmost care and heed not one word high style full of

The The Man of Law's Portrait A sergeant of the lawe, war and wys, That often hadde been at the parvys, Ther was also, ful riche of excellence. Discreet he was and of greet reverence -He semed swich, his wordes weren so wise. Justice he was ful often in assise, By patente and by pleyn commissioun. For his science and for his heigh renoun, Of fees and robes hadde he many oon. So greet a purchasour was nowher noon Al was fee symple to hym in effect; His purchasyng myghte nat been infect. Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he semed bisier than he was. In termes hadde he caas and doomes alle That from the tyme of kyng william were falle. Therto he koude endite, and make a thyng, Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng; And every statut koude he pleyn by rote. He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote. Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale; Of his array telle I no lenger tale.

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wary and wise parvys36 he was such assizes high renown owned many nowhere known fee simple37 suspected busy seemed cases and judgments could he cite William I he could draft a document so well no man could find fault in his writing statute; knew he by heart rode not well; medley coat sash; bars

The Franklin's Portrait A frankeleyn was in his compaignye. Whit was his berd as is the dayesye; Of his complexioun he was sangwyn. Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn; To lyven in delit was evere his wone, For he was epicurus owene sone, That heeld opinioun that pleyn delit Was verray felicitee parfit. An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;

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franklin38 white; daisy sanguine temperament morning sop in wine aim Epicurus' own son39 delight perfect happiness great

36 The parvys, or portico, of St. Pauls’s was a common place for meeting a lawyer to obtain legal advice. 37 Absolute ownership, not bought with debt. 38 An owner of land who was free of feudal service or payment, a freeholder, a gentleman farmer. 39 An ancient Athenian philosopher who held that pleasure was the ultimate good. 86

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Seint julian he was in his contree. His breed, his ale, was alweys after oon; A bettre envyned man was nowher noon. Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous Of fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous, It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke, Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke. After the sondry sesons of the yeer, So chaunged he his mete and his soper. Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe, And many a breem and many a luce in stuwe. Wo was his cook but if his sauce were Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his geere. His table dormant in his halle alway Stood redy covered al the longe day. At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire; Ful ofte tyme he was knyght of the shire. An anlaas and a gipser al of silk Heeng at his girdel, whit as morne milk. A shirreve hadde he been, and a contour. Was nowher swich a worthy vavasour.

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Saint Julian40 bread; never spared a man of better cellars roasted meat plenteous snowed dainty sundry meat; supper partridge; mew, bream and pike in fish-pond woe gear waiting county sessions often knife; purse hung; morning sheriff; auditor vavasour

The Guildsmen's Portrait An haberdasshere and a carpenter, A webbe, a dyere, and a tapycer, And they were clothed alle in o lyveree Of a solempne and a greet fraternitee. Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was; Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras But al with silver; wroght ful clene and weel Hire girdles and hir pouches everydeel. Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys To sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys. Everich, for the wisdom that he kan, Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel hadde they ynogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; And elles certeyn were they to blame. It is ful fair to been ycleped madame, And goon to vigilies al bifore, And have a mantel roialliche ybore.

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haberdasher41 weaver, dyer, and arras-maker42 similar livery solemn adorned not cheaply coated with brass well everything burgess guildhall for everything he knew he was fit for an alderman chattels enough and for rent wives; assent to be called "Madam" go to church and be seen of royal fashion

The Cook's Portrait A cook they hadde with hem for the nones To boille the chiknes with the marybones, And poudre-marchant tart and galyngale. Wel koude he knowe a draughte of londoun ale. He koude rooste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye.

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nonce chickens; marrow-bones savory spice; galingale London roast thick soup; pie

40 St. Julian was a paragon of hospitality. 41 A dealer in small articles. 42 An arras is a wall-hanging or tapestry

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But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, That on his shyne a mormal hadde he. For blankmanger, that made he with the beste

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great; I thought shin; deadly sore blancmange

The Shipman's Portrait A shipman was ther, wonynge fer by weste; For aught I woot, he was of dertemouthe. He rood upon a rounce, as he kouthe, In a gowne of faldyng to the knee. A daggere hangynge on a laas hadde he Aboute his nekke, under his arm adoun. The hoote somer hadde maad his hewe al broun; And certeinly he was a good felawe. Ful many a draughte of wyn had he ydrawe Fro burdeux-ward, whil that the chapmen sleep. Of nyce conscience took he no keep. If that he faught, and hadde the hyer hond, By water he sente hem hoom to every lond. But of his craft to rekene wel his tydes, His stremes, and his daungers hym bisides, His herberwe, and his moone, his lodemenage, Ther nas noon swich from hulle to cartage. Hardy he was and wys to undertake; With many a tempest hadde his berd been shake. He knew alle the havenes, as they were, Fro gootlond to the cape of fynystere, And every cryke in britaigne and in spayne. His barge ycleped was the maudelayne.

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sailor; living knew; Dartmouth rode a hackney coarse woolen cloth string down hot summer; hue fellow wine Bordeaux; while the merchant slept good fought; the upper hand, home reckon currents; dangerous watersides harbours; pilotage none such; Hull; Carthage wise beard; shaken Gottland; Cape of Finisterre Creek; Brittany and Spain christened Madeleine

The Physician's Portrait With us ther was a doctour of phisik; In al this world ne was the noon hym lik, To speke of phisik and of surgerye For he was grounded in astronomye. He kepte his pacient a ful greet deel In houres by his magyk natureel. Wel koude he fortunen the ascendent Of his ymages for his pacient. He knew the cause of everich maladye, Were it of hoot, or coold, or moyste, or drye, And where they engendred, and of what humour. He was a verray, parfit praktisour The cause yknowe, and of his harm the roote, Anon he yaf the sike man his boote. Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries To sende hym drogges and his letuaries, For ech of hem made oother for to wynne -Hir frendshipe nas nat newe to bigynne. Wel knew he the olde esculapius, And deyscorides, and eek rufus, Olde ypocras, haly, and galyen, 43 Diseases used to be categorised in these four general types. 88

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medicine none like him speak knowledgeable great deal magic natural tell the fortune ascendant images every hot, cold, moist or dry43 veritably; practitioner down to the deepest root remedy drugs; electuaries each aided the effect of the other begin Esculapius Deiscorides; Rufus Hippocrates; Hali; Galen

Serapion, razis, and avycen, Averrois, damascien, and constantyn, Bernard, and gatesden, and gilbertyn. Of his diete mesurable was he, For it was of no superfluitee, But of greet norissyng and digestible. His studie was but litel on the bible. In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al, Lyned with taffata and with sendal; And yet he was but esy of dispence; He kepte that he wan in pestilence. For gold in phisik is a cordial, Therefore he lovede gold in special.

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Serapion, Rhazes; Avicen Averrhoes, Damascene; Constantine Bernard; Gatisden; Gilbert44 diet superfluity nourishing little blue and scarlet lined; taffeta and sendal45 not easy of expense what he earned in times of pestilence in nature is warm and friendly especially much

The Wife of Bath's Portrait A good wif was ther of biside bathe, But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe. Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt, She passed hem of ypres and of gaunt. In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noon That to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon; And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she, That she was out of alle charitee. Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground; I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound That on a sonday weren upon hir heed. Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and newe. Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe. She was a worthy womman al hir lyve Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve, Withouten oother compaignye in youthe, -But therof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe. And thries hadde she been at jerusalem; She hadde passed many a straunge strem; At rome she hadde been, and at boloigne, In galice at seint-jame, and at coloigne. She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye. Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye. Upon an amblere esily she sat, Ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hat As brood as is a bokeler or a targe; A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large, And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe. In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe. Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce, For she koude of that art the olde daunce.

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housewife; Bath deaf in either ear. cloth; skill Ypres; Ghent46 no other housewife offering47 wroth charity handkerchiefs; texture weighed Sunday; wore; head hose; red tied; soft and new bold; red of hue life husbands at the church door not counting need not three times foreign streams Rome; Bologna Spain at Santiago; Cologne48 learned gap-toothed rode well across wimpled buckler; shield spurs chat

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44 Medical authorities of the ancient and medieval world. 45 Varieties of expensive silk cloth. 46 Towns in Belgium famous for manufacturing woolen and linen fabrics. 47 The alms collected at the church 48 The wife of Bath has been to the major destinations for pilgrimage in medieval Europe.

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The Parson's Portrait A good man was ther of religioun, And was a povre persoun of a toun, But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk. He was also a lerned man, a clerk, That cristes gospel trewely wolde preche; His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche. Benygne he was, and wonder diligent, And in adversitee ful pacient, And swich he was ypreved ofte sithes. Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes, But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute, Unto his povre parisshens aboute Of his offryng and eek of his substaunce. He koude in litel thyng have suffisaunce. Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder, But he ne lefte nat, for reyn ne thonder, In siknesse nor in meschief to visite The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lite, Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf, That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte. Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte, And this figure he added eek therto, That if gold ruste, what shal iren do? For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste, No wonder is a lewed man to ruste; And shame it is, if a prest take keep, A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep. Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive, By his clennesse, how that his sheep sholde lyve. He sette nat his benefice to hyre And leet his sheep encombred in the myre And ran to londoun unto seinte poules To seken hym a chaunterie for soules, Or with a bretherhed to been withholde; But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde, So that the wolf ne made it nat myscarie; He was a shepherde and noght a mercenarie. And though he hooly were and vertuous, He was to synful men nat despitous, Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne, But in his techyng discreet and benygne. To drawen folk to hevene by fairnesse, By good ensample, this was his bisynesse. But it were any persone obstinat, What so he were, of heigh or lough estat, Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys. A bettre preest I trowe that nowher noon ys. He waited after no pompe and reverence, Ne maked him a spiced conscience, But cristes loore and his apostles twelve He taughte, but first he folwed it hymselve.

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religion poor holy thought and work clergyman Christ's parishioners benign

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proven; oftentimes loath to curse49 give poor parishioners part of his income, even of his property 490 satisfied with little wide; asunder fail; for rain or thunder mischief farthest; small and great 495 staff example; gave did 500

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also rusts; iron priest layman misbehaves shitty give cleanness for hire encumbered in the mire London; Saint Paul's chantry for souls brotherhood home; fold miscarry mercenary holy; virtuous sinful; despiteous spiteful; haughty benign Heaven; fairness example; busyness. obstinate high or low estate reproved than special Christ's lore

49 People’s refusal to pay their tithes (the tenth part of their annual produce due for supporting the Church) was punishable by the lesser excommunication, which Chaucer’s parson is reluctant to use. 90

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The Plowman's Portrait With hym ther was a plowman, was his brother, That hadde ylad of dong ful many a fother; A trewe swynkere and a good was he, Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee. God loved he best with al his hoole herte At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte, And thanne his neighebor right as hymselve. He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve, For cristes sake, for every povre wight, Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght. His tithes payde he ful faire and wel, Bothe of his propre swynk and his catel. In a tabard he rood upon a mere. Ther was also a reve, and a millere, A somnour, and a pardoner also, A maunciple, and myself -- ther were na mo.

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load of dung true labourer living in peace whole heart whether it pleased him or not served thresh and dig poor soul without pay tax to the Church labour; property sleeveless jacket reeve; miller summoner manciple; no more

The Miller's Portrait The millere was a stout carl for the nones; Ful byg he was of brawn, and eek of bones. That proved wel, for over al ther he cam, At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram. He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre; Ther was no dore that he nolde heve of harre, Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed. His berd as any sowe or fox was reed, And therto brood, as though it were a spade. Upon the cop right of his nose he hade A werte, and theron stood a toft of herys, Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys; His nosethirles blake were and wyde. A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde. His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys. He was a janglere and a goliardeys, And that was moost of synne and harlotries. Wel koude he stelen corn and tollen thries; And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee. A whit cote and a blew hood wered he. A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne, And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.

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churl big; also win the ram50 broad; muscular door; off the hinges break; running headlong beard; sow; red broad top wart; tuft of hairs as the bristles of a sow's ears very wide sword; buckler; bore furnace a babbler and a jester sin thrice charge his fees thumb of gold; by God51 white coat sound

The Manciple's Portrait A gentil maunciple was ther of a temple, Of which achatours myghte take exemple For to be wise in byynge of vitaille; For wheither that he payde or took by taille, Algate he wayted so in his achaat

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manciple52 purveyors buying of food and drink on credit always; purchases

50 A ram was the usual prize for such contests. 51 A crook like the rest of his trade. 52 The steward of the temple, a college or another public institution.

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That he was ay biforn and in good staat. Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace The wisdom of an heep of lerned men? Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten, That weren of lawe expert and curious, Of which ther were a duszeyne in that hous Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond Of any lord that is in engelond, To make hym lyve by his propre good In honour dettelees (but if he were wood), Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire; And able for to helpen al a shire In any caas that myghte falle or happe; And yet this manciple sette hir aller cappe.

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The Reeve's Portrait The reve was a sclendre colerik man. His berd was shave as ny as ever he kan; His heer was by his erys ful round yshorn; His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn Ful longe were his legges and ful lene, Ylyk a staf, ther was no calf ysene. Wel koude he kepe a gerner and a bynne; Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynne. Wel wiste he by the droghte and by the reyn The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn. His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayerye, His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye Was hoolly in this reves governynge, And by his covenant yaf the rekenynge, Syn that his lord was twenty yeer of age. Ther koude no man brynge hym in arrerage. Ther nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyne, That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne; They were adrad of hym as of the deeth. His wonyng was ful faire upon an heeth; With grene trees yshadwed was his place. He koude bettre than his lord purchace. Ful riche he was astored pryvely His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly, To yeve and lene hym of his owene good, And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood. In youthe he hadde lerned a good myster; He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter. This reve sat upon a ful good stot, That was al pomely grey and highte scot. A long surcote of pers upon he hade, And by his syde he baar a rusty blade. Of northfolk was this reve of which I telle, Biside a toun men clepen baldeswelle.

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reeve; slender; choleric53 neat sheared shaven like that of a priest lean like a staff a granary and a bin knew by the drought and by the rain grain oxen; dairy swine; horses; stores; poultry wholly agreement; reckoning years in debt for arrears bailiff; servant cheating afraid; death dwelling; heath shaded purchase private interest please craftily giving and lending him his own goods be thanked and earn a coat and hood trade54 wright horse was named Scot sky blue bore Norfolk called Badeswell

53 A land steward 54 The word “mystery” in regular speech used to mean a man’s craft, profession, employment and was closely related to “mastery.” 92

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Tukked he was as is a frere aboute, And evere he rood the hyndreste of oure route.

friar hindmost

The Summoner's Portrait A somonour was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynnes face, For saucefleem he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparwe, With scalled browes blake and piled berd. Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quyk-silver, lytarge, ne brymstoon, Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon; Ne oynement that wolde clense and byte, That hym myghte helpen of his whelkes white, Nor of the knobbes sittynge on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood; Thanne wolde he speke and crie as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, Thanne wolde he speke no word but latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or thre, That he had lerned out of som decree -No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay Kan clepen watte as wel as kan the pope. But whoso koude in oother thyng hym grope, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophie; Ay questio quid iuris wolde he crie. He was a gentil harlot and a kynde; A bettre felawe sholde men noght fynde. He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf month, and excuse hym atte fulle; Ful prively a fynch eek koude he pulle. And if he foond owher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have noon awe In swich caas of the ercedekenes curs, But if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde ypunysshed be. Purs is the ercedekenes helle, seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede; Of cursyng oghte ech gilty man him drede, For curs wol slee right as assoillyng savith, And also war hym of a significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owene gise The yonge girles of the diocise, And knew hir conseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set upon his heed

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summoner55 fiery-red; cherubic pimpled; narrow eyes hot; lecherous; sparrow black scurfy brows; scanty beard face; feared mercury; litharge; brimstone borax; ceruse; tartar ointment; cleanse pimples knobs garlic, onions, and also leeks wine; red as blood mad drunk Latin phrases some heard even a jay Can call out "Wat"56 test then Questio quid juris57 noble rascal fellow wine concubine completely he could pluck a pigeon fellow teach case; archdeacon's curse58 purse punished archdeacon’s Hell know dread curse would kill as absolution save beware; significavit59 under his own power youths of all the diocese60 secrets; their advisor head

55 An officer who summoned wrongdoers to ecclesiastical courts. 56 Walter. 57 Which law shall apply? 58 Excommunication 59 The first word of the writ for arresting excommunicated persons. 60 Districts.

The Canterbury Tales

As greet as it were for an ale-stake. A bokeleer hadde he maad hym of a cake.

alehouse sign buckler; made himself

The Pardoner's Portrait With hym ther rood a gentil pardoner Of rouncivale, his freend and his compeer, That streight was comen fro the court of rome. Ful loude he soong com hider, love, to me! This somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun; Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun. This pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex, But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex; By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde, And therwith he his shuldres overspradde; But thynne it lay, by colpons oon and oon. But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon, For it was trussed up in his walet. Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet; Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare. Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare. A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe. His walet lay biforn hym in his lappe, Bretful of pardoun, comen from rome al hoot. A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot. No berd hadde he, ne nevere sholde have; As smothe it was as it were late shave. I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare. But of his craft, fro berwyk into ware, Ne was ther swich another pardoner For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer, Which that he seyde was oure lady veyl He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl That seint peter hadde, whan that he wente Upon the see, til jhesu crist hym hente. He hadde a croys of latoun ful of stones, And in a glas he hadde pigges bones. But with thise relikes, whan that he fond A povre person dwellynge upon lond, Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye Than that the person gat in monthes tweye; And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes, He made the person and the peple his apes. But trewely to tellen atte laste, He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste. Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie, But alderbest he song an offertorie; For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe, He moste preche and wel affile his tonge To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude; Therefore he song the murierly and loude. Now have I toold you soothly, in a clause,

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rode a gentle pardoner61 Rouncival; peer From; Rome sang; come hither a stiff bass trumpet; sound hair; wax smooth; flax locks shoulders bundles wore he none tucked in his wallet the latest fashion disheveled; cap glaring vernicle; sewed lap full of pardons; all hot high; goat beard his face gelding or a mare62 from Berwick to Ware such bag; pillow case our Lady's veil piece; sail St. Peter Jesus Christ; held him up brass pig's bones relics simple parson he could get more money two months63 flattery; japes people; fools to tell truly at last church; ecclesiast could best of all; offertory knew preach; polish gain; full well he could merrily and loud truly

61 Seller of pardons or indulgencies. 62 Eunuch or a woman. 63 Trading with (fake) holy relics was a profitable business during the medieval period. 94

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Th' estaat, th' array, the nombre, and eek the cause Why that assembled was this compaignye In southwerk at this gentil hostelrye That highte the tabard, faste by the belle. But now is tyme to yow for to telle How that we baren us that ilke nyght, Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght; And after wol I telle of our viage And al the remenaunt of oure pilgrimage. But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye, That ye n' arette it nat my vileynye, Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere, To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere, Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely. For this ye knowen al so wel as I, Whoso shal telle a tale after a man, He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan Everich a word, if it be in his charge, Al speke he never so rudeliche and large, Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe, Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe. He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother; He moot as wel seye o word as another. Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ, And wel ye woot no vileynye is it. Eek plato seith, whoso that kan hym rede, The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede. Also I prey yow to foryeve it me, Al have I nat set folk in hir degree Heere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde. My wit is short, ye may wel understonde. Greet chiere made oure hoost us everichon, And to the soper sette he us anon. He served us with vitaille at the beste; Strong was the wyn, and wel to drynke us leste. A semely man oure hooste was withalle For to han been a marchal in an halle. A large man he was with eyen stepe -A fairer burgeys is ther noon in chepe -Boold of his speche, and wys, and wel ytaught, And of manhod hym lakkede right naught. Eek therto he was right a myrie man, And after soper pleyen he bigan, And spak of myrthe amonges othere thynges, Whan that we hadde maad oure rekenynges, And seyde thus now, lordynges, trewely, Ye been to me right welcome, hertely; For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignye Atones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste I how. And of a myrthe I am right now bythoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.

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state; also company Southwark called Tabard Inn; close to the Bell. bore alight voyage remnant courtesy ascribe; vulgarity plainly; matter their no doubt you know whoever must repeat; nearly every; remembers so rude else; untrue feign it were one broadly; writ know; villainy Plato; can read cousin64 forgive their here; stand understand cheer; every one supper; set victuals wine; pleased seemly; withal have been bulging eyes burgess; Cheapside65 bold; wise lacking naught merry began mirth paid our bills truly heartily by my truth; no lie year; merry at once; inn make you happy; if I knew how game; thought give you joy; nothing

64 Cf. Boethius. De Consolatione Philosophiae. Lib. III. 65 In Chaucer’s time a London street which accommodated the largest market in the city as well as many shops and inns.

The Canterbury Tales

Ye goon to caunterbury -- God yow speede, The blisful martir quite yow youre meede! And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye, Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye; For trewely, confort ne myrthe is noon To ride by the weye doumb as a stoon; And therfore wol I maken yow disport, As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. And if yow liketh alle by oon assent For to stonden at my juggement, And for to werken as I shal yow seye, To-morwe, whan ye riden by the weye, Now, by my fader soule that is deed, But ye be myrie, I wol yeve yow myn heed! Hoold up youre hondes, withouten moore speche. Oure conseil was nat longe for to seche. Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys, And graunted hym withouten moore avys, And bad him seye his voirdit as hym leste. Lordynges, quod he, now herkneth for the beste; But taak it nought, I prey yow, in desdeyn. This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn, That ech of yow, to shorte with oure weye, In this viage shal telle tales tweye To caunterbury-ward, I mene it so, And homward he shal tellen othere two, Of aventures that whilom han bifalle. And which of yow that bereth hym best of alle, That is to seyn, that telleth in this caas Tales of best sentence and moost solaas, Shal have a soper at oure aller cost Heere in this place, sittynge by this post, Whan that we come agayn fro caunterbury. And for to make yow the moore mury, I wol myselven goodly with yow ryde, Right at myn owene cost, and be youre gyde, And whoso wole my juggement withseye Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye. And if ye vouche sauf that it be so, Tel me anon, withouten wordes mo, And I wol erly shape me therfore. This thyng was graunted, and oure othes swore With ful glad herte, and preyden hym also That he wolde vouche sauf for to do so, And that he wolde been oure governour, And oure tales juge and reportour, And sette a soper at a certeyn pris, And we wol reuled been at his devys In heigh and lough; and thus by oon assent We been acorded to his juggement. And therupon the wyn was fet anon; We dronken, and to reste wente echon, Withouten any lenger taryynge. Amorwe, whan that day bigan to sprynge, Up roos oure hoost, and was oure aller cok, And gradrede us togidre alle in a flok, 96

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Canterbury requite your merit know; way tales; play there's no mirth nor comfort dumb as a stone propose a sport just said; to give you if you all agree share my judgment as I tell you on your way father's soul upon my head hold up your hands seek to think twice advice verdict listen take it not; in disdain plain to shorten our way voyage; two Canterbury; mean coming home; another two adventures; befallen bears himself best of all case sense; the most amusement supper here from Canterbury merry I will myself be your guide gainsay spent along the way vouchsafe now; more agree oaths glad hearts; prayed him also vouchsafe judge supper at a certain price agree with his device one accorded fetched drank; each one tarrying next morning; spring rose; cock gathered; flock

And forth we riden a litel moore than paas Unto the wateryng of seint thomas; And there oure hoost bigan his hors areste And seyde, lordynges, herkneth, if yow leste. Ye woot youre foreward, and I it yow recorde. If even-song and morwe-song accorde, Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale. As evere mote I drynke wyn or ale, Whoso be rebel to my juggement Shal paye for al that by the wey is spent. Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twynne; He which that hath the shorteste shal bigynne. Sire knyght, quod he, my mayster and my lord, Now draweth cut, for that is myn accord. Cometh neer, quod he, my lady prioresse. And ye, sire clerk, lat be youre shamefastnesse, Ne studieth noght; ley hond to, every man! Anon to drawen every wight bigan, And shortly for to tellen as it was, Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas, The sothe is this, the cut fil to the knyght, Of which ful blithe and glad was every wyght, And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun, By foreward and by composicioun, As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo? And whan this goode man saugh that it was so, As he that wys was and obedient To kepe his foreward by his free assent, He seyde, syn I shal bigynne the game, What, welcome be the cut, a goddes name! Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye. And with that word we ryden forth oure weye, And he bigan with right a myrie cheere His tale anon, and seyde as ye may heere.

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rode slowly Saint Thomas' watering66 stopped listen agreed evening; morning see hope on the way draw cuts said he

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near bashfulness do not ponder more everyone to cut it short by chance, rank or cause fell happy reason composition have heard saw wise keep his word since ride; listen on our way merry cheer hear

66 A brook by the road.

The Canterbury Tales

SECUNDA PASTORUM

(THE SECOND SHEPHERDS’ PLAY) Theatre has existed since the dawn of man. It flourished in ancient Greece where traditional drama contests were held during major religious festivals, most notably the one dedicated to Dionysus. The two main genres, tragedy and comedy, were established and the best remembered dramatists of the period are: Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides – for tragedy, and Aristophanes – for comedy. The plays were performed by several actors, all men, wearing colourful, large masks, and a chorus. Rome continued the Greek dramatic tradition adding to Greek plots some touches of Roman culture – the plays became less religious and more entertaining, obscenity and cruelty on stage were a common sight. The best remembered Roman dramatists are: Seneca, Terence, and Plautus. At the beginning of the medieval period the Catholic Church banned secular dramatic performances in order to curb the excesses of Roman theatre. Nevertheless, it conserved and later developed its own dramatic practices, which were used during liturgy for both a better understanding of the Christian doctrine and a greater ideological impact on the congregation. Gradually, these practices evolved into dramatisations of whole episodes from the Bible in the vernacular language and moved out of the church into the streets and squares of medieval towns. These pageants were performed in cycles, covering all important religious events from Creation to the Day of Judgment, during religious festivals such as Christmas, Easter, and Lent. After Pope Innocent III’s 1210 edict proscribing the clergy from performing on public stages, they were traditionally produced by the guilds – each guild choosing a particular episode of scriptural history that it considered relevant to its trade – and performed on purpose-built scaffolds or on platforms mounted on ox-drawn carriages, which could move around the town and deliver a series of performances in different places. In their own time these dramas were called “pageants” and “miracles”, while today literary scholars refer to them as “mystery plays.” The choice of this term relies mainly on the fact that it combines several relevant historical senses: a) a rite of the church impossible to explain in rational terms (mysterium); b) the service provided by the clergy (ministerium); c) the trade sectrets of the guilds; d) the skilled services provided by craftsmen. In England there are four surviving cycles of mystery plays: the York cycle – consisting of 48 pageants, the Wakefield cycle (also known as the “Towneley Plays”) – 32 pageants, the Hegge cycle (the “N-Town Plays”) – 42 pageants, and the Chester cycle – 24 pageants. Secunda Pastorum (The Second Shepherds’ Play) partakes of the Wakefield cycle, surviving in a single manuscript (Huntington MS HM 1), and provides an interesting perspective on the Nativity story. It was most probably composed between 1400 and 1450 by an anonymous author, sometimes referred to as the Wakefield Master, due to his outstanding poetic skill. The

Secunda Pastorum

pageant presents chronologically two mirroring tales: a non-biblical account about the theft of a sheep and its attempted concealment by the thieves, husband and wife, as their newborn baby, and he familiar biblical story of the birth of Christ. The first story takes more space and bears undoubtedly the main dramatic focus of the play. The profusion of comic elements in this part demonstrates clearly a strong tendency to secularise and refashion liturgical drama. -G.N.

Incipit Alia eorundem

Begins another of the same

[Personae: Primus Pastor: Coll Secundus Pastor: Gyb Tercius Pastor: Daw Mak Vxor ejus: Gyll Angelus Maria Christ Child] PRIMUS PASTOR Lord, what these weders are cold! And I am yll happyd; I am nerehande dold, So long haue I nappyd; My legys thay fold, My fyngers ar chappyd, It is not as I wold, For I am al lappyd In sorow. In stormes and tempest, Now in the eest, now in the west, Wo is hym has neuer rest Mydday nor morow! Bot we sely husbandys That walkys on the moore, In fayth we ar nerehandys Outt of the doore. No wonder, as it standys, If we be poore, For the tylthe of oure landys Lyys falow as the floore, As ye ken. We ar so hamyd, Fortaxed and ramyd, We ar mayde handtamyd, With thyse gentlery-men.

[List of characters: PRIMUS PASTOR: Coll SECUNDUS PASTOR: Gyb TERCIUS PASTOR: Daw Mak His wife: Gyll Angel Maria Christ as an infant]

weather feel sick freezed napped legs numb what I wished for entangled east who has never midday silly husbandmen1 who walk almost homeless matters stand poor tilth fallow; ground know hampered overtaxed and rammed handtamed by the gentry

1 A man who tills or cultivates the land or a farmer.

Secunda Pastorum

Thus thay refe vs oure rest Oure Lady theym wary! These men that ar lord-fest Thay cause the ploghe tary; That, men say, is for the best We fynde it contrary. Thus ar husbandys opprest, In ponte to myscary On lyfe. Thus hold, thay vs hunder, Thus thay bryng vs in blonder; It were greatte wonder And euer shuld we thryfe. For may he gett a paynt slefe Or a broche now-on-dayes, Wo is hym that hym grefe Or onys agane-says! Dar noman hym reprefe What mastry he mays; And yit may noman lefe Oone word that he says No letter. He can make purveance With boste and bragance, And all is thrugh mantenance Of men that are gretter. Ther shall com a swane As prowde as a po; He must borow my wane, My ploghe also; Then I am full fane To graunt or he go. Thus lyf we in payne Anger, and wo, By nyght and day. He must haue if he langyd, If I shuld, forgang it; I were better be hangyd Then oones say hym nay. It dos me good, as I walk Thus by myn oone, Of this warld for to talk In maner of mone. To my shepe wyll I stalk And herkyn anone, Ther abyde on a balk Or sytt on a stone Full soyne; For I trowe, perdé, Trew men if thay be, We gett more compané Or it be noyne.

2 Livery and badge showing that the bearer is employed with a noble household. 3 Vexes him. 4 An act of governance. 100

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deprive curse bound to a lord tarry husbandmen miscary in life under trouble thrive any man; painted sleeve brooch; these days2 grieves3 gainsays dares; reprove no matter even if; believes one not in the least purveyance4 boasting and bragging maintenance greater swain peacock abode plough agree take it by force live woe wants surrender it hanged once; no by myself world complaint sheep listen stay; ridge sit soon I am sure; by God true company before noon

SECUNDUS PASTOR Bensté and Dominus, What may this bemeyne? Why fares this warld thus? Oft haue we not sene. Lord, thyse weders ar spytus And the wyndys full kene. And the frostys so hydus Thay water myn eeyne, No ly. Now in dry, now in wete, Now in snaw, now in slete, When my shone freys to my fete, It is not all esy. Bot as far as I ken Or yit as I go, We sely wedmen Dre mekyll wo: We haue sorow then and then; It fallys oft so. Sely Copyle, oure hen, Both to and fro She kakyls; Bot begyn she to crok, To groyne or to clok, Wo is hym is of oure cok, For he is in the shakyls. These men that ar wed Haue not all thare wyll; When they ar full hard sted, Thay sygh full styll. God wayte thay ar led Full hard and full yll; In bowere nor in bed Thay say noght thertyll This tyde. My parte haue I fun, I know my lesson: Wo is hym that is bun, For he must abyde. Bot now late in oure lyfys A meruell to me, That I thynk my hart ryfys Sich wonders to see; What that destany dryfys It shuld so be Som men wyll haue two wyfys And som men thre In store; Som ar wo that has any. Bot so far can I: Wo is hym that has many, For he felys sore. Bot, yong men, of wowyng, For God that you boght,

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bless me mean world insight weather; spiteful winds; keen frosts; hideous eyes lie wet snow; sleet shoes; freeze; feet not at all; easy know as it goes married men endure much woe time and again happens so silly cackles croak groan; cluck cock shackles married not at all; their will in a hard situation sigh God only knows; treated ill chamber can’t say anything in my time I got my deal woe; bound abide lives miracle heart breaks such decrees wives three miserable know feels wooing bought you5

5 Jesus Christ

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Be well war of wedyng, And thynk in youre thoght, «Had-I-wyst» is a thyng It seruys of noght. Mekyll styll mowrnyng Has wedyng home broght, And grefys, With many a sharp showre; For thou may cach in an owre That shall sow the full sowre As long as thou lyffys. For, as euer red I pystyll, I haue oone to my fere As sharp as a thystyll As rugh as a brere; She is browyd lyke a brystyll, With a sowre-loten chere; Had she oones wett hyr whystyll, She couth syng full clere Hyr Paternoster. She is as greatt as a whall, She has a galon of gall; By hym that dyed for vs all, I wald I had ryn to I had lost hir!

beware 135

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PRIMUS PASTOR God looke ouer the raw, Full defly ye stand! SECUNDUS PASTOR Yee, the dewill in thi maw, So tariand! Sagh thou awre of Daw? PRIMUS PASTOR Yee, on a ley-land Hard I hym blaw. He commys here at hand, Not far. Stand styll.

160

165

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pasture-land blow (his horn) he comes

comes

SECUNDUS PASTOR He wyll make vs both a ly Bot if we be war.

102

devil’s in your belly so late saw you Daw anywhere

why

PRIMUS PASTOR For he commys, hope I.

6 Jesus Christ

grief shower hour hurt; sore lives read the Epistle one as my companion thistle briar brows; bristle sourlooking; cheer once she wets her whistle can sing clearly her great; whale gallon him who died for us all6 I wish I could run away company deafly

SECUNDUS PASTOR Qwhy?

TERCIUS PASTOR Crystys crosse me spede, And Sant Nycholas! Therof had I nede;

“Had I known” of no use much quiet mourning

tell us a lie but we will be prepared 170

Christ’s Cross help me Saint Nicholas need

It is wars then it was. Whoso couthe take hede And lett the warld pas, It is euer in drede And brekyll as glas, And slythys. This warld fowre neuer so, With meruels mo and mo: Now in weyll, now in wo, And all thyng wrythys. Was neuer syn Noe floode Sich floodys seyn, Wyndys and ranys so rude, And stormes so keyn Som stamerd, som stod In dowte, as I weyn. Now God turne all to good! I say as I mene, For ponder: These floodys so thay drowne, Both in feyldys and in towne, And berys all downe; And that is a wonder. We that walk on the nyghtys, Oure catell to kepe, We se sodan syghtys When othere men slepe. Yit me thynk my hart lyghtys; I se shrewys pepe. Ye ar two all-wyghtys I wyll gyf my shepe A turne. Bot full yll haue I ment, As I walk on this bent; I may lyghtly repent, My toes if I spurne. A, syr, God you saue, And master myne! A drynk fayn wold I haue, And somwhat to dyne.

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PRIMUS PASTOR Crystys curs, my knaue Thou art a ledyr hyne! SECUNDUS PASTOR What, the boy lyst raue! Abyde vnto syne; We haue mayde it, Yll thryft on thy pate! Though the shrew cam late, Yit is he in state To dyne - if he had it. TERCIUS PASTOR Sich seruandys as I,

worse could; heed of how this world passes ever in dread and brittle as glass slides away fared marvels; more and more joy; woe change since Noah’s flood no one saw such a downpour wind and rain so rough storms so keen some stammered; stood in doubt; I suppose mean drown fields bury miracle night cattle see unexpected sights sleep cheers up rascals peeping uncanny creatures wicked field do easy penance God save you drink; fain dine Christ’s curse; knave lazy servant

215

220

stop raving wait until we are done bad luck; head rascal; came he is ready

servants

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103

That swettys and swynkys, Etys oure brede full dry, And that me forthynkys. We ar oft weytt and wery When master-men wynkys, Yit commys full lately Both dyners and drynkys; Bot nately Both oure dame and oure syre, When we haue ryn in the myre, Thay can nyp at oure hyre, And pay vs full lately. Bot here my trouth, master: For the fayr that ye make, I shall do therafter Wyrk as I take. I shall do a lytyll, syr, And emang euer lake, For yit lay my soper Neuer on my stomake In feyldys. Wherto shuld I threpe? With my staf can I lepe; And men say «Lyght chepe Letherly foryeldys.» PRIMUS PASTOR Thou were an yll lad To ryde on wowyng With a man that had Bot lytyll of spendyng. SECUNDUS PASTOR Peasse, boy, I bad. No more ianglyng, Or I shall make the full rad, By the heuens kyng! With thy gawdys Where ar oure shepe, boy? - we skorne. TERCIUS PASTOR Sir, this same day at morne I thaym left in the corne, When thay rang lawdys. They haue pasture good, Thay can not go wrong. PRIMUS PASTOR That is right. By the roode, Thyse nyghtys ar long! Yit I wold, or we yode, Oone gaf vs a song.

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7 With my trade in my hands I can easily find employment elsewhere. 8 The first of the day-hours of the Church. 104

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sweat and toil eat our bread entirely dry bothers wet and weary sleep but there is great delay in our diners and drinks but to some purpose our lady and our sir they have run into difficulty they can reduce our hire and pay us with a great delay truth fare you provide accordingly work little avoid work run hungry always the fields toil staff; leap7 a cheap bargain repays badly bad servant complain against little money silence; I pray you babbling stop you Heaven’s King complaints sheep; scorn morning them rang lauds8

by the Cross nights I wish before we went someone gave us a song

SECUNDUS PASTOR So I thoght as I stode, To myrth vs emong.

entertain ourselves

TERCIUS PASTOR I grauntt. PRIMUS PASTOR Lett me syng the tenory.

I agree 270

SECUNDUS PASTOR And I the tryble so hye.

treble so high

TERCIUS PASTOR Then the meyne fallys to me. Lett se how ye chauntt.

middle part see; sing

Tunc intrat Mak in clamide se super togam vestitus. MAK Now lord, for thy naymes sevyn, That made both moyn and starnes Well mo then I can neuen, Thi will, Lorde, of me tharnys. I am all vneuen; That moves oft my harnes. Now wold God I were in heuen, For the[re] wepe no barnes So styll.

Here enters Mak with a cloak over his tunic

275

280

PRIMUS PASTOR Who is that pypys so poore? MAK Wold God ye wyst how I foore! Lo, a man that walkys on the moore And has not all his wyll.

seven names moon and stars more; name your; is lacking at odds brains heaven no child weeps ceaselessly pipes so sadly

285

SECUNDUS PASTOR Mak, where has thou gone? Tell vs tythyng. TERCIUS PASTOR Is he commen? then ylkon Take hede to his thyng.

tenor part

knew; fare see; walks; moor all that he desires where have you been your tidings

290

everyone guard his things

Et accipit clamidem ab ipso.

Pulls [Mak’s] cloak off

MAK What! ich be a yoman, I tell you, of the kyng, The self and the some, Sond from a greatt lordyng, And sich. Fy on you! Goyth hence Out of my presence!

I am a yeoman King self-same sent; great lord suchlike fie; go away

295

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105

I must haue reuerence. Why, who be ich? PRIMUS PASTOR Why make ye it so qwaynt? Mak, ye do wrang.

reverence how come you know not me 300

SECUNDUS PASTOR Bot, Mak, lyst ye saynt? I trow that ye lang. TERCIUS PASTOR I trow the shrew can paynt, The dewyll myght hym hang!

like; to play the saint I believe that you want to

305

MAK Ich shall make complaynt, And make you all to thwang At a worde, And tell euyn how ye doth. PRIMUS PASTOR Bot, Mak, is that sothe? Now take outt that Sothren tothe, And sett in a torde!

even; you 310

SECUNDUS PASTOR Shrew, pepe! Thus late as thou goys, What wyll men suppos? And thou has an yll noys Of stelyng of shepe. MAK And I am trew as steyll, All men waytt; Bot a sekenes I feyll That haldys me full haytt: My belly farys not weyll; It is out of astate. 106

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true southern accent hold your tongue the devil confound you I would give you a blow

315

MAK God looke you all thre! Me thoght I had sene you; Ye ar a fare compané. PRIMUS PASTOR Can ye now mene you?

rascal; feign may the devil hang him I whipped

SECUNDUS PASTOR Mak, the dewill in youre ee! A stroke wold I leyne you. TERCIUS PASTOR Mak, know ye not me? By God, I couthe teyn you.

behave; quaintly you do wrong

hurt may God keep you three I think fine company

320

remember

325

pry about, rascal goes suppose bad reputation stealing; sheep

330

true as steel know but I feel a sickness fever fares estate

TERCIUS PASTOR Seldom lyys the dewyll Dede by the gate. MAK Therfor Full sore am I and yll. If I stande stone-styll, I ete not an nedyll Thys moneth and more. PRIMUS PASTOR How farys thi wyff? By thi hoode, How farys she? MAK Lyys walteryng - by the roode By the fyere, lo! And a howse full of brude. She drynkys well, to; Yll spede othere good That she wyll do! Bot s[h]o Etys as fast as she can, And ilk yere that commys to man She bryngys furth a lakan And, som yeres, two. Bot were I now more gracyus And rychere be far, I were eten outt of howse And of harbar. Yit is she a fowll dowse, If ye com nar; Ther is none that trowse Nor knowys a war Then ken I. Now wyll ye se what I profer? To gyf all in my cofer To-morne at next to offer Hyr hed-maspenny. SECUNDUS PASTOR I wote so forwakyd Is none in this shyre; I wold slepe, if I takyd Les to my hyere. TERCIUS PASTOR I am cold and nakyd, And wold haue a fyere. PRIMUS PASTOR I am wery, forrakyd, And run in the myre Wake thou!

lies dead

335

340

345

350

355

360

ill stone-still morsel month fares; wife; your hood

lies; by the Cross fire house; children drinks; too she eats every year brings forth a baby even if I were better off richer; by far eaten out of house and home foul sweetheart near can imagine or knows a worse one offer coffer9 as an offering for her funeral mass

365

370

tired shire sleep

naked fire weary; tired mire awake

9 All my savings.

Secunda Pastorum

107

SECUNDUS PASTOR Nay, I wyll lyg downe by, For I must slepe truly.

375

TERCIUS PASTOR As good a mans son was I As any of you. Bot, Mak, com heder! Betwene Shall thou lyg downe. MAK Then myght I lett you bedene Of that ye wold rowne, No drede. Fro my top to my too, Manus tuas commendo, Poncio Pilato; Cryst-crosse me spede!

come hither lie 380

385

Tunc surgit, pastoribus dormientibus, et dicit: Now were tyme for a man That lakkys what he wold To stalk preuely than Vnto a fold, And neemly to wyrk than And be not to bold, For he myght aby the bargan, If it were told At the endyng. Now were tyme for to reyll; Bot he nedys good counsell That fayn wold fare weyll, And has bot lytyll spendyng. Bot abowte you a serkyll As rownde as a moyn, To I haue done that I wyll, Tyll that it be noyn, That ye lyg stone-styll To that I haue doyne; And I shall say thertyll Of good wordys a foyne: «On hight, Ouer youre heydys, my hand I lyft. Outt go youre een! Fordo your syght!» Bot yit I must make better shyft And it be right. Lord! what thay slepe hard! That may ye all here. Was I neuer a shepard, Bot now wyll I lere. If the flok be skard, Yit shall I nyp nere. How! drawes hederward!

lay me down

hinder whispering dread toe Manus tuas commendo, Pontius Pilate!10 may Christ’s Cross help me He stands up, the shepherds sleeping, and says:

390

395

400

405

410

415

lacks; wants stealthily sheepfold nimbly too pay dearly risk prudence fare well too little money about; magic circle round as the moon till I am done till it is noon lie stone-still till I am done for that purpose I will cast a spell on high heads; lift eyes; lose your sight better efforts fast asleep hear learn scared grab this way

10 “Into thy hands I commend my spirit, Pontius Pilate.” Mak refers to Christ’s words in Luke 23:46 (“Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit”). 108

Secunda Pastorum

Now mendys oure chere From sorow A fatt shepe, I dar say, A good flese, dar I lay. Eft-whyte when I may, Bot this will I borow. How, Gyll, art thou in? Gett vs som lyght. UXOR Who makys sich dyn This tyme of the nyght? I am sett for to spyn; I hope not I myght Ryse a penny to wyn, I shrew them on hight! So farys A huswyff that has bene To be rasyd thus betwene. Here may no note be sene For sich small charys. MAK Good wyff, open the hek! Seys thou not what I bryng?

420

425

430

435

440

UXOR I may thole the dray the snek. A, com in, my swetyng!

MAK Do way! I am worthy my mete, For in a strate can I gett More then thay that swynke and swette All the long day. Thus it fell to my lott. Gyll, I had sich grace. UXOR It were a fowll blott To be hanged for the case. MAK I haue skapyd, Ielott, Oft as hard a glase.

fleece I will pay it back when I can borrow get us some light [Mak’s] wife noise night spinning I cannot earn a penny curse them fares housewife to be interrupted in her work nothing can be done chores inner door sees pull the latch sweetheart

MAK Yee, thou thar not rek Of my long standyng. UXOR By the nakyd nek Art thou lyke for to hyng!

our cheer will mend

you seem not to care about keeping me waiting 445

450

455

naked neck likely; hanged stop it food by risking toil and sweat

bad joke

escaped; Jill difficult situations

Secunda Pastorum

109

UXOR «Bot so long goys the pott To the water,» men says, «At last Comys it home broken.» MAK Well knowe I the token, Bot let it neuer be spoken, Bot com and help fast. I wold, he were flayn; I lyst well ete. This twelmothe was I not so fayn Of oone shepe-mete. UXOR Com thay or he be slayn, And here the shepe blete -

pot 460

meaning never 465

470

MAK Then myght I be tane. That were a cold swette! Go spar The gaytt-doore. UXOR Yis, Mak, For and thay com at thy bak -

475

110

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ere bleat

yes after you whole the devil of a bad time

480

485

MAK Thou red, And, I shall say thou was lyght Of a knaue childe this nyght. UXOR Now well is me day bright That euer was I bred! This is a good gyse And a far cast; Yit a woman avyse Helpys at the last. I wote neuer who spyse;

skinned desire glad meal of mutton

taken sweat shut gate door

MAK Then myght I by, for all the pak, The dewill of the war! UXOR A good bowrde haue I spied, Syn thou can none: Here shall we hym hyde, To thay be gone, In my credyll. Abyde! Lett me alone, And I shall lyg besyde In chylbed, and grone.

comes

trick; discovered since you know none until cradle lie groan get ready gave birth male

490

born disguise cunning trick advice

495

who is looking

Agane go thou fast. MAK Bot I com or thay ryse, Els blawes a cold blast! I wyll go slepe. Yit slepys all this meneye, And I shall go stalk preuely, As it had neuer bene I That caryed thare shepe. PRIMUS PASTOR Resurrex a mortruus! Haue hold my hand. Iudas carnas dominus! I may not well stand; My foytt slepys, by Iesus, And I water fastand. I thoght that we layd vs Full nere Yngland. SECUNDUS PASTOR A ye! Lord, what I haue slept weyll! As fresh as an eyll, As lyght I me feyll As leyfe on a tre. TERCIUS PASTOR Bensté be herein! So me qwakys, My hart is outt of skyn, Whatso it makys. Who makys all this dyn? So my browes blakys, To the dowore wyll I wyn. Harke, felows, wakys! We were fowre Se ye awre of Mak now?

go back fast unless; before there will be trouble 500

their

505

510

515

520

525

PRIMUS PASTOR We were vp or thou.

PRIMUS PASTOR So ar many hapt Now, namely within.

Resurrex a mortruus11 take hold of Iudas carnas dominus12 foot is asleep; Jesus very hungry laid down near England

well eel light; feel leave; tree blessing tremble scared din darkens run to the door listen; wake up four see; anywhere before

SECUNDUS PASTOR Man, I gyf god avowe, Yit yede he nawre. TERCIUS PASTOR Me thoght he was lapt In a wolfe-skyn.

the whole company stealthily

give; a vow he went nowhere 530

wrapped wolfskin covered especially on the inside

11 “He has risen from the dead.” 12 “Judas, lord of the flesh.”

Secunda Pastorum

111

TERCIUS PASTOR When we had long napt, Me thoght with a gyn A fatt shepe he trapt; Bot he mayde no dyn. SECUNDUS PASTOR Be styll! Thi dreme makys the woode; It is bot fantom, by the roode.

535

540

long nap trick fat sheep; trapped din still dream; mad only a phantom; Cross

PRIMUS PASTOR Now God turne all to good, If it be his wyll. SECUNDUS PASTOR Ryse, Mak, for shame! Thou lygys right lang. MAK Now Crystys holy name Be vs emang! What is this? for Sant Iame, I may not well gang! I trow I be the same. A! my nek has lygen wrang Enoghe. Mekill thank! syn yister-euen, Now by Sant Strevyn, I was flayd with a swevyn My hart out of sloghe. I thoght Gyll began to crok And trauell full sad, Wel-ner at the fyrst cok, Of a yong lad For to mend oure flok. Then be I neuer glad; I haue tow on my rok More then euer I had. A, my heede! A house full of yong tharmes, The dewill knok outt thare harnes! Wo is hym has many barnes, And therto lytyll brede. I must go home, by youre lefe, To Gyll, as I thoght. I pray you looke my slefe, That I steyll noght; I am loth you to grefe, Or from you take oght. TERCIUS PASTOR Go furth, yll myght thou chefe! Now wold I we soght, This morne, That we had all oure store. 112

Secunda Pastorum

you lie very long 545

550

555

560

be among us by St. James walk recover slept wrong much; since yesterday eve St. Stephen frightened; dream scared croak heavily in labour close to the first cockcrow young increase; flock such a crowd

565

570

575

head bellies knock out their brains woe; children little bread leave look in my sleeve have not stolen anything unwilling; grieve anything forth; ill checked morning all our stock

PRIMUS PASTOR Bot I will go before; Let vs mete.

580

SECUNDUS PASTOR Whore?

go ahead meet Where?

TERCIUS PASTOR At the crokyd thorne.

crooked thorn

MAK Vndo this doore!

open

UXOR Who is here? MAK How long shall I stand? UXOR Who makys sich a bere? Now walk in the wenyand!

Wait

585

MAK A, Gyll, what chere? It is I, Mak, youre husbande. UXOR Then may we se here The dewill in a bande, Syr Gyle! Lo, he commys with a lote, As he were holden in the throte. I may not syt at my note A handlang while. MAK Wyll ye here what fare she makys To gett hir a glose? And dos noght bot lakys And clowse hir toose. UXOR Why, who wanders, who wakys? Who commys, who gose? Who brewys, who bakys? What makys me thus hose? And than It is rewthe to beholde Now in hote, now in colde, Full wofull is the householde That wantys a woman. Bot what ende has thou mayde With the hyrdys, Mak?

noise unlucky hour how are you

590

595

600

605

see the devil in bonds noise held at the throat at my work a little fuss to make herself heard nothing but idle away the time scratch her toes wanders about; stays awake comes; goes brews; bakes hoarse rueful hot; cold woeful lacks herds

Secunda Pastorum

113

MAK The last worde that thay sayde When I turnyd my bak, Thay wold looke that thay hade Thare shepe, all the pak. I hope thay wyll nott be well payde When thay thare shepe lak, Perdé! Bot howso the gam gose, To me thay wyll suppose, And make a fowll noyse, And cry outt apon me. Bot thou must do as thou hyght. UXOR I accorde me thertyll; I shall swedyll hym right In my credyll. If it were a gretter slyght, Yit couthe I help tyll. I wyll lyg downe stright. Com hap me.

610

615

620

625

said back check sheep; pack pleased lack by God the game goes suspect me loathsome noise cry on me promised agree swaddle cradle greater trick could still help lie down straightaway cover

MAK I wyll. UXOR Behynde! Com Coll and his maroo, Thay will nyp vs full naroo.

630

MAK Bot I may cry out, «haroo!», The shepe if thay fynde. UXOR Harken ay when thay call; Thay will com onone. Com and make redy all, And syng by thyn oone; Syng «lullay» thou shall, For I must grone, And cry outt by the wall On Mary and Iohn For sore. Syng «lullay» on fast When thou heris at the last, And bot I play a fals cast Trust me no more. TERCIUS PASTOR A, Coll, goode morne! Why slepys thou nott? PRIMUS PASTOR Alas, that euer was I borne! 114

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mates; come nip us hard help find

635

640

645

listen always soon ready sing lullaby groan Mary and John, pain quickly hear them coming I will pretend well I promise good morning why sleeps you not ever

We haue a fowll blott A fat wedir haue we lorne.

650

fowl blot wether; lost

TERCIUS PASTOR Mary, Godys forbott!

God forbid

SECUNDUS PASTOR Who shuld do vs that skorne? That were a fowll spott.

us; scorn evil person

PRIMUS PASTOR Som shrewe. I haue soght with my dogys All Horbery shrogys, And of fefteyn hogys Fond I bot oone ewe. TERCIUS PASTOR Now trow me, if ye will By Sant Thomas of Kent, Ayther Mak or Gyll Was at that assent. PRIMUS PASTOR Peasse, man, be still! I sagh when he went. Thou sklanders hym yll; Thou aght to repent Goode spede. SECUNDUS PASTOR Now as euer myght I the, If I shuld euyn here de, I wold say it were he That dyd that same dede. TERCIUS PASTOR Go we theder, I rede, And ryn on oure feete; Shall I neuer ete brede, The sothe to I wytt.

655

villain dogs Horbery wood13 fifteen hogs only one ewe

660

trust me Saint Thomas of Kent14 either involved

665

peace saw slander; wrongly ought to quickly thrive die

670

did; deed

675

there; I say run; feet eat bread truth; know

PRIMUS PASTOR Nor drynk in my heede, With hym tyll I mete. SECUNDUS PASTOR I wyll rest in no stede Tyll that I hym grete, My brothere. Oone I will hight: Tyll I se hym in sight, Shall I neuer slepe one nyght Ther I do anothere.

head meet

680

nowhere greet

685

promise see sleep do something

13 A town near Wakefield. 14 Saint Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury.

Secunda Pastorum

115

TERCIUS PASTOR Will ye here how thay hak? Oure syre, lyst croyne. PRIMUS PASTOR Hard I neuer none crak So clere out of toyne. Call on hym.

trill listen how they croon

690

SECUNDUS PASTOR Mak, Vndo youre doore soyne! MAK Who is that spak, As it were noyne, On loft? Who is that, I say?

heard; noise out of tune

open

695

spoke noon loud

TERCIUS PASTOR Goode felowse, were it day.

fellow

MAK As far as ye may, Good, spekys soft, Ouer a seke woman's heede That is at maylleasse; I had leuer be dede Or she had any dyseasse.

you speak softly sick unwell I would ratherbe dead than cause her discomfort

UXOR Go to anothere stede! I may not well qweasse; Ich fote that ye trede Goys thorow my nese So hee.

700

705

PRIMUS PASTOR Tell vs, Mak, if ye may, How fare ye, I say? MAK Bot ar ye in this towne to-day? Now how fare ye? Ye haue ryn in the myre And ar weytt yit; I shall make you a fyre, If ye will sytt. A nores wold I hyre. Thynk ye on yit? Well qwytt is my hyre My dreme, this is itt A seson. I haue barnes, if ye knew, Well mo then enewe; Bot we must drynk as we brew, 116

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somewhere else breathe step; tread goes through my nose loud

how are you 710

715

720

run through the mire still wet fire sit down nurse; hire requited; wages dream so soon children more; enough drink

And that is bot reson. I wold ye dynyd or ye yode. Me thynk that ye swette.

725

SECUNDUS PASTOR Nay, nawther mendys oure mode Drynke nor mette.

nothing will mend our mood neither drink nor food

MAK Why, syr, alys you oght bot goode? TERCIUS PASTOR Yee, oure shepe that we gett Ar stollyn as thay yode; Oure los is grette. MAK Syrs, drynkys! Had I bene thore, Som shuld haue boght it full sore.

has something wrong happened 730

735

PRIMUS PASTOR Mary, some men trowes that ye wore, And that vs forthynkys.

MAK Now if ye haue suspowse To Gill or to me, Com and rype oure howse, And then may ye se Who had hir. If I any shepe fott, Ayther cow or stott And Gyll, my wyfe, rose nott Here syn she lade hir As I am true and lele, To God here I pray That this be the fyrst mele That I shall ete this day. PRIMUS PASTOR Mak, as haue I ceyll, Avyse the, I say: He lernyd tymely to steyll That couth not say nay.

tend stolen our loss is great drink there paid dearly for it believe; it was you deceive us

SECUNDUS PASTOR Mak, som men trowys That it shuld be ye. TERCIUS PASTOR Ayther ye or youre spouse, So say we.

reasonable dine; before you go sweating

believe it was you. 740

your spouse

suspicion 745

750

rip; house you see who took it stole a sheep cow or heifer never rose from her bed laid her down honest first meal eat today15

755

hope for bliss I advise you learned early to steal no

15 While saying this Mak points at the cradle.

Secunda Pastorum

117

UXOR I swelt! Outt, thefys, fro my wonys! Ye com to rob vs for the nonys.

760

MAK Here ye not how she gronys? Youre hartys shuld melt. UXOR Outt, thefys, fro my barne! Negh hym not thor! MAK Wyst ye how she had farne Youre hartys wold be sore. Ye do wrang, I you warne, That thus commys before To a woman that has farne Bot I say no more. UXOR A, my medyll! I pray to God so mylde, If euer I you begyld, That I ete this chylde That lygys in this credyll. MAK Peasse, woman, for Godys payn, And cry not so! Thou spyllys thy brane And makys me full wo.

groans hearts

765

770

775

UXOR No, so God me blys And gyf me ioy of my chylde! 16 16 He points at the cradle. 118

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child near him do not go knew; laboured hearts wrong; warn come thus laboured but waist mild beguiled eat lies; cradle peace; God’s pain

780

SECUNDUS PASTOR I trow oure shepe be slayn. What fynde ye two? TERCIUS PASTOR All wyrk we in vayn; As well may we go. Bot hatters! I can fynde no flesh, Hard nor nesh, Salt nor fresh Bot two tome platers. Whik catell bot this, Tame nor wylde, None, as haue I blys, As lowde as he smylde.

I am dying thieves; from my house on purpose

spill; brain make; woe slain have you found work; in vain

785

790

795

nothing meat soft empty plates apart from this tame or wild as I hope for bliss smelled as much as him16

joy; child

PRIMUS PASTOR We haue merkyd amys; I hold vs begyld. SECUNDUS PASTOR Syr, don. Syr - oure lady hym saue! Is youre chyld a knaue?

marked amiss beguiled

800

MAK Any lord myght hym haue, This chyld, to his son. When he wakyns he kyppys, That ioy is to se. TERCIUS PASTOR In good tyme to hys hyppys, And in celé! Bot who was his gossyppys So sone redé?

MAK So God thaym thank, Parkyn, and Gybon Waller, I say, And gentill Iohn Horne, in good fay He made all the garray With the greatt shank.

grabs joy; see 805

810

SECUNDUS PASTOR I trow not oone farthyng.

lie them

815

faith commotion long legs friends all right with each other

820

TERCIUS PASTOR Fare wordys may ther be, Bot luf is ther none This yere. PRIMUS PASTOR Gaf ye the chyld, any thyng?

happiness good fortune god-parents ready may good befall them

SECUNDUS PASTOR Mak, freyndys will we be, For we ar all oone. MAK We! Now I hald for me, For mendys gett I none. Fare well all thre! All glad were ye gone.

boy have him

MAK So fare fall thare lyppys! PRIMUS PASTOR Hark now, a le.

absolutely

speak for myself amends. three we would all be glad fair words love year

825

gave one farthing17

17 A small coin

Secunda Pastorum

119

TERCIUS PASTOR Fast agane will I flyng; Abyde ye me there. Mak, take it to no grefe If I com to thi barne.

830

MAK Nay, thou dos me greatt reprefe, And fowll has thou farne. TERCIUS PASTOR The child will it not grefe, That lytyll day-starne. Mak, with youre leyfe, Let me gyf youre barne Bot sex pence.

great dishonour fowl have you done

835

MAK Nay do way! He slepys.

TERCIUS PASTOR Gyf me lefe hym to kys And lyft vp the clowtt. What the dewill is this? He has a long snowte!

peeps 840

845

PRIMUS PASTOR He is markyd amys. We wate ill abowte. SECUNDUS PASTOR Ill-spon weft, iwys, Ay commys foull owte. Ay, so! He is lyke to oure shepe!

will not mind little morning star your leave give your child six-pence go away; sleeps

TERCIUS PASTOR Me thynk he pepys. MAK When he wakyns he wepys. I pray you go hence!

run back wait for me take offence your child

awakens; weeps go away give me leave; to kiss him lift up the cloth devil snout deformed wrong to pry

850

ill spun woof always comes out badly resembles

TERCIUS PASTOR How, Gyb, may I pepe?

peep

PRIMUS PASTOR I trow kynde will crepe Where it may not go.

nature will creep where it cannot go

SECUNDUS PASTOR This was a qwantt gawde And a far-cast: It was a hee frawde.

120

Secunda Pastorum

855

cunning trick crafty device serious fraud

TERCIUS PASTOR Yee, syrs, wast. Lett bren this bawde And bynd hir fast. A! fals skawde! Hang at the last So shall thou. Wyll ye se how thay swedyll His foure feytt in the medyll? Sagh I neuer in a credyll A hornyd lad or now. MAK Peasse, byd I. What! Lett be youre fare! I am he that hym gatt, And yond woman hym bare.

860

865

870

PRIMUS PASTOR What dewill shall he hatt? Mak? Lo, God, makys ayre! SECUNDUS PASTOR Lett be all that! Now God gyf hym care, I sagh. UXOR A pratty child is he As syttys on a wamans kne; A dyllydowne, perdé, To gar a man laghe.

875

880

SECUNDUS PASTOR Ye two ar well feft

peace stop your din begot him this woman bore him

stop the pretence give him sorrow I saw [him] pretty sits; woman’s knee darling; by God makes; laugh ear-mark proof

885

PRIMUS PASTOR This is a fals wark; I wold fayn be wrokyn. Gett wepyn! UXOR He was takyn with an elfe, I saw it myself; When the clok stroke twelf Was he forshapyn.

tied [the sheep] legs; middle saw; cradle horned; before now

devil; named Mak’s heir

TERCIUS PASTOR I know hym by the eere-marke; That is a good tokyn. MAK I tell you, syrs, hark! Hys noyse was brokyn. Sythen told me a clerk That he was forspokyn.

it was burn; bawd bind her tight a false scold will hang in the end

listen nose; broken priest bewitched false work avenged weapon

890

elf struck twelve transformed skilled

Secunda Pastorum

121

Sam in a stede.

895

TERCIUS PASTOR Syn thay manteyn thare theft, Let do thaym to dede. MAK If I trespas eft, Gyrd of my heede. With you will I be left. TERCIUS PASTOR Syrs, do my reede: For this trespas We will nawther ban ne flyte, Fyght nor chyte, Bot haue done as tyte, And cast hym in canvas. PRIMUS PASTOR Lord! what I am sore, In poynt for to bryst! In fayth, I may no more; Therfor wyll I ryst.

maintain; their execute them

900

905

910

SECUNDUS PASTOR As a shepe of sevyn skore He weyd in my fyst. For to slepe aywhore Me thynk that I lyst. TERCIUS PASTOR Now, I pray you, Lyg downe on this grene.

again take my head leave myself to you take my advice trespass neither ban nor quarrel fight nor chide but quickly cast him in canvas18 angry on point of bursting faith rest sheep; seven score [pounds] fist sleep; anywhere I desire

915

PRIMUS PASTOR On these thefys yit I mene.

lie down; meadow thieves; concerned

TERCIUS PASTOR Wherto shuld ye tene? Do as I say you.

be grieved

Angelus cantat «Gloria in excelsis»; postea dicat: ANGELUS Ryse, hyrd-men heynd, For now is he borne That shall take fro the feynd That Adam had lorne; That warloo to sheynd, This nyght is he borne. God is made youre freynd Now at this morne,

same in one place

An angel sings “Gloria in excelsis” and then says:19 920

925

gracious herdsmen born from the fiend lost warlock to defeat night friend morning

18 Tossing in a canvas, or canvassing, was a mild form of punishment practiced in the medieval period and probably chosen in the play because of its humorous dramatic effect. 19 “Gloria in excelsis Deo” is a hymn which begins with the words announcing Christ’s birth in Luke 2:14. 122

Secunda Pastorum

He behestys. At Bedlem go se Ther lygys that fre In a cryb full poorely, Betwyx two bestys. PRIMUS PASTOR This was a qwant stevyn That euer yit I hard. It is a meruell to neuyn, Thus to be skard. SECUNDUS PASTOR Of Godys son of heuyn He spak vpward. All the wod on a leuyn Me thoght that he gard Appere.

930

935

940

TERCIUS PASTOR He spake of a barne In Bedlem, I you warne. PRIMUS PASTOR That betokyns yond starne; Let vs seke hym there.

945

God’s son of heaven from above wood; in a bright light I thought; he made appear

the star over there seek

loudly he sang it three short notes to a long one

950

PRIMUS PASTOR For to syng vs emong, Right as he knakt it, I can. SECUNDUS PASTOR Let se how ye croyne! Can ye bark at the mone?

the finest song I ever yet heard a marvel to tell of scared

spoke; child Bethlehem; I tell you

SECUNDUS PASTOR Say, what was his song? Hard ye not how he crakyd it, Thre brefes to a long? TERCIUS PASTOR Yee, Mary, he hakt it: Was no crochett wrong, Nor nothyng that lakt it.

promises Bethlehem; see lies; lord crib; poorly between; beasts

by Mary; trilled not a bit it lacked nothing among us fashioned

955

TERCIUS PASTOR Hold youre tonges! Haue done!

you croon moon stop it

PRIMUS PASTOR Hark after, than. SECUNDUS PASTOR To Bedlem he bad That we shuld gang; I am full fard

listen

960

Bethlehem; bade should go Afraid

Secunda Pastorum

123

That we tary to lang. TERCIUS PASTOR Be mery and not sad Of myrth is oure sang! Euerlastyng glad To mede may we fang Withoutt noyse. PRIMUS PASTOR Hy we theder forthy, If we be wete and wery, To that chyld and that lady! We haue it not to lose. SECUNDUS PASTOR We fynde by the prophecy Let be youre dyn! Of Dauid and Isay And mo then I myn Thay prophecyed by clergy That in a vyrgyn Shuld he lyght and ly, To slokyn oure syn And slake it, Oure kynde, from wo; For Isay sayd so: Ecce virgo Concipiet a chylde that is nakyd. TERCIUS PASTOR Full glad may we be, And abyde that day That lufly to se, That all myghtys may. Lord, well were me For ones and for ay, Myght I knele on my kne, Som word for to say To that chylde. Bot the angell sayd In a cryb was he layde; He was poorly arayd, Both mener and mylde. PRIMUS PASTOR Patryarkes that has bene, And prophetys beforne, Thay desyryd to haue sene This chylde that is borne. Thay ar gone full clene; That haue thay lorne. We shall se hym, I weyn, Or it be morne,

waited for too long

965

970

975

980

985

990

995

merry joy; song everlasting gladness as a reward; earn fuss hurry we thither wet and weary mustn’t forget it

stop your din David and Isaiah more due to their learning virgin come down and die slake our sin relieve our kind from woe Isaiah “Ecce virgo concipiet”20 naked await lovely to see almighty glad for once and for all knees some

dressed both poor and noble

1000

patriarchs; lived once prophets bygone desired

1005

completely lost this chance see; I trust before; morning

20 “Ecce virgo concipiet” is a Gregorian chant whose first line translates as: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son.” 124

Secunda Pastorum

To tokyn. When I se hym and fele, Then wote I full weyll It is true as steyll That prophetys haue spokyn: To so poore as we ar That he wold appere, Fyrst fynd, and declare By his messyngere.

1010

SECUNDUS PASTOR Go we now, let vs fare; The place is vs nere.

1015

TERCIUS PASTOR I am redy and yare; Go we in fere To that bright. Lord, if thi wylles be We ar lewde all thre Thou grauntt vs som kyns gle To comforth thi wight. PRIMUS PASTOR Hayll, comly and clene! Hayll, yong child! Hayll, maker, as I meyne, Of a madyn so mylde! Thou has waryd, I weyne The warlo so wylde: The fals gyler of teyn, Now goys he begylde. Lo, he merys, Lo, he laghys, my swetyng! A wel fare metyng! I haue holden my hetyng; Haue a bob of cherys. SECUNDUS PASTOR Hayll, sufferan sauyoure, For thou has vs soght! Hayll, frely foyde and floure, That all thyng has wroght! Hayll, full of fauoure, That made all of noght! Hayll! I kneyll and I cowre. A byrd haue I broght To my barne. Hayll, lytyll tyne mop! Of oure crede thou art crop; I wold drynk on thy cop, Lytyll day-starne. TERCIUS PASTOR Hayll, derlyng dere, Full of Godhede!

token see and feel shall know; full well true as steel spoken are appear

get going nearby ready and prepared together

1020

1025

1030

1035

1040

1045

1050

if it be your will simple joyful means to comfort your child hail; beautiful and clean mean maiden so gentle cursed warlock so wild evil deceiver deceived himself look; he cheers laughing; sweeting fine meeting promise cluster of cherries sovereign saviour you have chosen us noble child and flower created all things favour out of nothing kneel and bow bird child tiny moppet head of our creed out of your cup morning star dear darling divinity

Secunda Pastorum

125

I pray the be nere When that I haue nede. Hayll, swete is thy chere! My hart wold blede To se the sytt here In so poore wede, With no pennys. Hayll! Put furth thy dall! I bryng the bot a ball: Haue and play the withall, And go to the tenys. MARIA The fader of heuen, God omnypotent, That sett all on seuen, His son has he sent. My name couth he neuen, And lyght or he went. I conceyuyd hym full euen Thrugh myght as he ment, And now is he borne. He kepe you fro wo! I shall pray hym so. Tell furth as ye go, And myn on this morne.

1055

1060

heaven 1065

1070

1075

PRIMUS PASTOR Fare well, lady So fare to beholde, With thy childe on thi kne. SECUNDUS PASTOR Bot he lygys full cold. Lord, well is me! Now we go, thou behold.

SECUNDUS PASTOR Com furth; now ar we won! TERCIUS PASTOR To syng ar we bun Let take on loft! Explicit pagina Pastorum

126

Secunda Pastorum

created all in seven [days] called alighted before conceived him truly God’s might, as He meant born to keep you from woe to do so make it known remember this morning fair on your knees

1080

TERCIUS PASTOR Forsothe, allredy It semys to be told Full oft. PRIMUS PASTOR What grace we haue fun!

near need sweet bleed sit garments pennies forth; your hand but with it play tennis

lies

it seems to have been told very often already

1085

found now are we saved bound loudly the end of the Shepherds’ Pageant

EVERYMAN The 14th century witnessed a shift of ideological emphasis - from the triumphant Christ, or Christ the King, to the suffering Christ. This was also the time of a revived Augustinianism and the ensuing internalisation of religious experience. The new interest in the stage of the soul as the site of a human psychomachia promoted the production of dramas that staged the reenactment of the archetypal Christian antagonism between good and evil within each human soul. The battle of the soul is the chief concern of the late medieval Morality play, also inspired by the Franciscan and Dominican emphasis on preaching and the sermon. The message of the Morality plays is shaped by medieval didacticism: the only remedy for fallen humanity is the Imitatio Christi, the good life modelled on the life of Christ. As Thomas a Kempis suggested in his eponymous treatise (De Imitatione Christi, ca.1418, English transl. 1502), the good Christian should practice it to gain salvation. This message was also articulated by 14th C. English mysticism, with its emphasis upon interiority and immediate access to God through revelation and spiritual ascent (Richard Rolle, The Fire of Love, Walter Hilton, The Ladder of Perfection, the anonymous Cloud of Unknowing, and Dame Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love). The acknowledged masterpiece of the genre, Everyman (c.1495) is a play about repentance and divine retribution. While the earlier Castle of Perseverance dramatises the story of human life in its entirety, Everyman concentrates on the final moment of death. Neither this focus, nor the probable Dutch source, Elkerlijk, leaves much space for comedy, lending the play a sombre quality, atypical of medieval English drama. As its Prologue suggests, the play is a dramatic warning “how ye hye fader of heven sendeth dethe to somon every creature to come and giyve a counte of theyr lyves in this worlde”. It verges on tragedy, as audiences empathise with the protagonist’s anguish and horror in the face of death, and their awareness of the finality of our individual existence is powerfully activated. Death emerges as the moment of truth, a one-way voyage at the end of which humans have to present their reckoning of good and evil deeds to the High Judge. The play offers the Catholic remedy of Good Deeds which buy humanity off from divine retribution. This eschatological perspective reduces the play's tragic potential and turns it into a comedy in Dante’s sense: at the end of the play Everyman’s body descends into the stage grave, while his soul ascends to higher spheres, received and welcomed by angelic song. -G.N.

Everyman

127

EVERYMAN Here begynneth a treatyse how yt hye fader of heuen sendeth dethe to somon euery creature to come and gyue counte of theyr liues in this worlde and is in maner of a morall playe. CHORUS I pray you all gyue your audyence And here this mater with reuerence By fygure a morall playe The somonynge of euery man called it is That of our lyues and endynge shewes How transytory we be all daye This mater is wonders precyous But the entent of it is more gracyous And swete to bere awaye. The story sayth man in the begynnynge Loke well and take good heed to the endynge Be you neuer so gay Ye thynke synne in the begynnynge full swete Whiche in the ende causeth the soule to wepe Whan the body lyeth in claye Here shall you se how felawshyp and Iolyte Bothe strengthe pleasure and beaute Wyll fade from the as floure in maye For ye shall here how our heuen kynge Calleth euery man to a generall rekenynge Gyue audyence and here what he doth saye. GOD SPEKETH I perceyue here in my maieste How that all creatures be to me vnkynde Lyuynge without drede in worldely prosperyte Of ghostly syght the people be so blynde Drowned in synne they know me not for theyr god In worldely ryches is all theyr mynde They fere not my ryghtwysnes the sharpe rood My lawe that I shewed whan I for them dyed They forgete clene and shedynge of my blode rede I hanged bytwene two it can not be denyed To gete them lyfe I suffred to be deed I heled theyr fete with thornes hurt was my heed I coulde do nomore than I dyde truely And nowe I se the people do clene for sake me They vse the seuen deedly synnes damphable As pryde coueteyse wrathe and lechery Now in the worlde be made commendable And thus they leue of aungelles ye heuenly compny Euery man lyueth so after his owne pleasure And yet of theyr lyfe they be nothinge sure I se the more that I then forbere 1 Spiritual insight. 2 The two thieves with whom Christ was crucified 128

Everyman

heaven; death summon give; account

give hear; reverence 5

summoning; everyman lives; shows transitory precious intent; gracious sweet; bear look never sweet soul; weep lies in clay fellowship; jollity

thee=you; flower ye=you; heavenly reckoning

perceive; majesty unkind living; worldly prosperity ghostly sight; blind1 righteousness; rod

completely; red blood between two2 dead healed; feet did see; forsake sins; damnable covetousness leave; the lived see

The worse they be fro yere to yere All that lyueth appayreth faste Therfore I wyll in all the haste Haue a rekenynge of euery mannes persone For and I leue the people thus alone In theyr lyfe and wycked tempestes Verly they wyll become moche worse than beestes For now one wolde by enuy another vp ete Charyte they do all clene forgete I hoped well that euery man In my glory shulde make his mansyon And therto I had them all electe But now I se lyke traytours deiecte They thanke me not for ye pleasure yt to them ment Nor yet for theyr beynge that I them haue lent I profered the people grete multytude of mercy And fewe there be that asketh it hertly They be so combred with worldly ryches That nedes on them I must do Iustyce On euery man lyuynge without fere Where arte thou deth thou myghty messengere DETHE Almyghty god I am here at your wyll Your commaundement to fulfyll. GOD Go thou to euery man And shewe hym in my name A pylgrymage he must on him take Which he in no wyse may escape And that he brynge with him a sure rekenynge Without delay or ony taryenge. DETHE Lorde I wyll in the worlde go renne ouer all And cruelly out searche bothe grete and small Euery man wyll I beset that lyueth beestly Out of goddes lawes and dredeth not foly He that loueth rychesse I wyll stryke wt my darte His sight to blynde and for heuen to departe Excepte that almes be his good frende In hell for to dwell worlde without ende Loo yonder I se Euery man walkynge Full lytlell he thynketh on my comynge His mynde is on flesshely lustes and his treasure And grete payne it shall cause hym to endure Before the lorde heuen kinge Euery man stande styll whyder arte thou goynge Thus gayly hast thou thy maker forgete.

from year to year disappears leave

truly; beasts envy; eat up mansion

traitors deject

being great heartily cumbered justice living; fear death

show 70

in no way postponement run outsearch; great beastly dreads riches; dart good deeds

look; see he is unaware of my coming fleshly Heaven’s King where are you going your; forgotten

EVERY MAN Why askest thou Woldest thou wete

know

Everyman

129

DETHE Ye syr I wyll shewe you In grete haste I am sende to the From god out of his mageste

EVERY MAN What sente to me. DETHE Ye certaynly. Thoughe thou haue forgete hym here He thynketh on the in the heauenly spere As or we departe thou shalte knowe.

you majesty what!

about you; heavenly sphere

100

any longer respite

EVERY MAN What desyreth god of me. DETHE That shall I shewe the. A rekenynge he wyll nedes haue Without ony lenger respite. EVERY MAN To gyue a rekenynge longer layser I craue This blynde mater troubleth my witte. DETHE On the thou must take a longe Iourney Therefore thy boke of counte wt the thou brynge For turne agayne thou can not by no waye And loke thou be sure of thy rekenynge For before god thou shalt answere and shewe Thy many badde dedes and good but a fewe How thou hast spente thy lyfe and in what wyse Before the chefe lorde of paradyse Haue I do we were in that waye For wete thou well yu shalt make none attournay.

leisure; crave wit

105

110

EVERY MAN Full vnredy I am suche rekenynge to gyue I knowe the not what messenger arte thou. DETHE I am dethe that no man dredeth For euery man I rest and no man spareth For it is gods commaundement That all to me shold be obedyent. EVERY MAN O deth thou comest whan I had ye least in mynde In thy power it lyeth me to saue Yet of my good wyl I gyue ye yf thou wyl be kynde Ye a thousand pound shalte thou haue And dyffere this mater tyll an other daye

130

Everyman

you; journey book of count; with you turn back look bad in what way chief get prepared to go know unready are you

115

I fear no man arrest obedient

120

you to save me give you shall defer; another

DETHE Euery man it may not be by no waye I set not by golde syluer nor rychesse Nor by pope emperour kynge duke ne prynces For and I wolde receyue gyftes grete All the worlde I myght gete But my custome is clene contrary I gyue the no respyte come hens and not tary. EVERY MAN Alas shall I haue no lenger respyte I may saye deth geueth no warnynge To thynke on the it maketh my herte seke For all vnredy is my boke of rekenynge But .xii. yere and I myght haue a bydynge My countynge boke I wolde make so clere That my rekenynge I sholde not nede to fere Wherefore deth I praye the for goddes mercy Spare me tyll I be prouyded of remedy. DETHE The auayleth not to crye wepe and praye But hast the lyghtly that yu were gone ye Iournaye And preue thy frendes yf thou can For wete thou well the tyde abydeth no man And in the worlde eche lyuynge creature For Adams synne must dye of nature.

125

130 longer warning you; heart sick 135

but in case; abiding clear need to fear therefore provided

140

availeth haste you prove know; abides each

145

EVERY MAN Dethe yf I sholde this pylgrymage take And my rekenynge suerly make Shewe me for saynt charyte Sholde I not come agayne shortly. DETHE No euery man and thou be ones there Thou mayst neuer more come here Trust me veryly. EVERY MAN O gracyous god in the hye seat celestyall Haue mercy on me in this moost nede Shall I haue no company fro this vale terestryall Of myne acqueynce that way me to lede. DETHE Ye yf ony be so hardy That wolde go with the and bere the company Hye the that yu were gone to goddes magnyfycence Thy rekenynge to gyue before his presence. What weenest thou thy lyue is gyuen the And thy worldely goodes also. EVERY MAN I had wende so verelye.

cannot take nor if possess exactly

saint charity come back 150

once truly

155

high seat celestial most needful moment vale terrestrial lead brave

160

know; given to you property I used to think so

Everyman

131

DETHE Nay nay it was but lende the For as soone as thou arte go Another a whyle shall haue it and than go ther fro Euen as thou hast done Euery man yu arte made thou hast thy wyttes fyue And here on erthe wyll not amende thy lyue For sodeynly I do come. EVERY MAN O wretched caytyfe wheder shall I flee That I myght scape this endles sorowe. Now gentyll deth spare me tyll to morowe That I may amende me With good aduysement DETHE Naye thereto I wyll not consent Nor no man wyll I respyte But to the herte sodeynly I shall smyte Without ony aduyesment And now out of thy syght I wyll me hy Se thou make the redy shortely For thou mayst saye this is the daye That no man lyuynge may scape a waye EVERY MAN Alas I may well wepe with syghes depe Now haue I no maner of company To helpe me in my Iourney and me to kepe And also my wrytynge is full vnredy How shall I do now for to excuse me I wolde to god I had neuer begete To my soule a full grete profyte it had be For now I fere paynes huge and grete The tyme passeth lorde helpe that all wrought For though I mourne it auayleth nought The day passeth and is almoost ago I wote not well what for to do To whome were I best my complaynt to make What and I to felawshyp therof spake And shewed hym of this sodeyne chaunce For in hym is all myne affyaunce We haue in the worlde so many a daye Be good frendes in sporte and playe I se hym yonder certaynely I trust that he wyll bere me company Therfore to hym wyll I speke to ese my sorowe Well mette good felawshyp and good morowe. FELAWSHIP Euery man good morowe by this daye Syr why lokest thou so pyteously If ony thynge be a mysse I praye the me saye That I may helpe to remedy.

132

Everyman

165

170

no; lent to you you go for a while just made; five wits life

prisoner; where escape 175

make amends advice no; to this

180

185

190

195

200

heart; suddenly; smite warning hurry see; yourself may away sighs deep to protect me record; unready was never born fear pains huge and great that made everything it is of no avail gone do not know sudden incident all my confidence see; there

205

to ease

sir; look; piteously amiss; please tell me

EVERY MAN Ye good felawshyp ye I am in greate ieoparde. My true frende shewe to me your mynde I wyll not forsake the to my lyues ende In the waye of good company. EVERY MAN That was well spoken and louyngly.

210

jeopardy you; life’s end

215

lovingly.

FELAWSHIP Syr I must nedes knowe your heuynesse I haue pyte to se you in ony dystresse If ony haue you wronged ye shall reuenged be Thoughe that I knowe before that I sholde dye. EVERY MAN Veryly felawshyp gramercy.

heaviness; pity have been wronged die for you3 220

FELAWSHIP Tusshe by thy thankes I set not a strawe Shewe me your grefe and saye no more. EVERY MAN If I my herte sholde to you breke And than you to tourne your mynde fro me And wolde not me comforte whan ye here me speke Than sholde I tentymes soryer be.

truly; many thanks tush; straw tell me what worries you

225

tell you my story turn away from me ten times sorrier be.

FELAWSHIP Syr I saye as I will do in dede. EVERY MAN Than be you a good frende at nede I haue found you true here before. FELAWSHIP And so ye shall euermore For in fayth and thou go to hell I wyll not forsake the by the waye.

good friend in need so far 230 on the way

EVERY MAN Ye speke lyke a good frende I byleue you well I shall deserue it and I may. FELAWSHIP I speke of no deseruynge by this daye For he that wyll saye and nothynge do Is not worthy with good company to go Therfore shewe me the grefe of your mynde As to your frende most louynge and kynde. EVERY MAN I shall shewe you how it is Commaunded I am to go on a iournaye

believe

235

deserving

loving and kind 240

3 An instance of dramatic irony. Fellowship is unaware of Everyman's actual predicament.

Everyman

133

A longe waye harde and daungerous And gyue a strayte counte without delaye Before the hye Iuge Adonay Wherfore I pray you bere me company As ye haue promysed in this iournaye. FELAWSHIP That is mater in dede promyse is duty But and I sholde take suche a vyage on me I knowe it well it shulde be to my payne Also it make me aferde certayne But let vs take counsell here as well as we can For your wordes wolde fere a stronge man. EVERY MAN Why ye sayd yf I had nede Ye wolde me neuer forsake quycke ne deed Thoughe it were to hell truely.

245

indeed voyage 250

255

come back5 260

265

by God 270

Everyman

cheer, clear,

275

4 One of the names of God in the Old Testament. 5 Here J.Quincy Adams suggests "agayne come" for the sake of the rhyme. 134

redeemed us all loathsome

EVERY MAN Ye promysed other wyse parde.

EVERY MAN Ye therto ye wolde be redy

day of doom.

tidings

EVERY MAN In dede death was with me here.

FELAWSHIP I wote well I say so truely And yet yf yu wylte ete & drynke & make good chere Or haunt to women the lusty company I wolde not forsake you whyle the daye is clere Truste me veryly

need alive nor dead

aside; truth to say

FELAWSHIP In fayth than wyll not I come there who hath you these tydynges brought.

FELAWSHIP Now by god that all hathe bought If deth were the messenger For no man that is lyuynge to daye I wyll not go that loth iournaye Not for the fader that bygate me.

fear certainly frighten

FELAWSHIP So I sayd certaynely But such pleasures be set a syde the sothe to saye And also yf we toke suche a iournaye Whan sholde we come agayne. EVERY MAN Naye neuer agayne tyll the daye of dome.

hard and dangerous straight account high judge Adonai4 bear me company

To go to myrthe solas and playe Your mynde wyll soner apply Than to bere me company in my longe iournaye. FELAWSHIP Now in good fayth I wyll not that waye But and thou wyll murder or ony man kyll In that I wyll helpe the with a good wyll. EVERY MAN O that is a symple aduyse in dede Gentyll felawe helpe me in my necessyte We haue loued longe and now I nede And gentyll felawshyp remembre me.

sooner

280

do it but if you wanted to; any

loved you; I am in need 285

FELAWSHIP Wheder ye haue loued me or no By saynt John I wyll not with the go. EVERY MAN Yet I pray the take ye labour & do so moche for me To brynge me forwarde for saynt charyte And comforte me tyll I come without the towne. FELAWSHIP Nay and thou wolde gyue me a newe gowne I wyll not a fote with the go But and yu had taryed I wolde not haue lefte the so And as now god spede the in thy Iournaye For from the I wyll departe as fast as I maye.

290

accompany me out of the town gown foot if you stayed

295

EVERY MAN Wheder a waye felawshyp wyll yu forsake me.

where are you going

FELAWSHIP Ye by my faye to god I be take the.

betake you

EVERY MAN Farewell good felawshyp for ye my herte is sore A dewe for euer I shall se the no more FELAWSHIP In fayth euery man fare well now at the ende For you I wyll remembre ytptynge is mournynge. EVERY MAN A lacke shall we this departe in dede A lady helpe without ony more comforte Lo felawshyp forsaketh me in my most nede For helpe in this worlde wheder shall I resorte Felawshyp here before with me wolde mery make And now lytell sorowe for me dooth he take It is sayd in prosperyte men frendes may fynde Whiche in aduersyte be full vnkynde Now wheder for socoure shall I flee Syth that felawshyp hath forsaken me

adieu

300

that parting is mourning alack; indeed any

305

310

little adversity help kinsmen=relatives

Everyman

135

To my kynnesman I wyll truely Prayenge them to helpe me in my necessyte I byleue that they wyll do so For kynde wyll crepe where it may not go I wyll go saye for yonder I se them go Where be ye now my frendes and kynnesmen. KINDREDE Here we be now at your commaundement Cosyn I praye you shewe vs your entent In ony wise and not spare.

315

320

COSYN Ye euery man and to vs declare Yf ye be dysposed to go ony whyder For wete you well wyll lyue and dye to gyder. KINDREDE In welth and wo we wyll with you holde For ouer his kynne a man may be bolde. EVERY MAN Gramercy my frendes and kynnesmen kynde Now shall I shewe you the grefe of my mynde I was commaunded by a messenger That is a hye kynges chefe offycer He bad me go a pylgrymage to my payne And I knowe well I shall neuer come agayne Also I must gyue a rekenynge strayte For I haue a grete enemy that hath me in wayte Whiche entendeth me for to hynder. KINDREDE What a counte is that which ye must render That wolde I knowe. EVERY MAN Of all my workes I must shewe How I haue lyued and my dayes spent Also of yll dedes that I haue vsed In my tyme syth lyfe was me lent And of all vertues that I haue refused Therfore I praye you go thyder with me To helpe to make myn accounte for saynt charyte. COSYN What to go thyder is that the mater Nay euery man I had leuer fast brede and water All this fyue yere and more. EVERY MAN Alas that euer I was bore For now shall I neuer be mery If that you forsake me. 6 The "Yonder he cometh"convention of medieval drama. 7 Fast on bread and water. Proverbial. 136

Everyman

praying believe kindred; creep will put this to the test; there he comes6

intent whatever it is

wherever together

325

330

wealth and woe proud

high king’s chief officer pain come back has me in wait intendeth; hinder

335

340

345

I would like to know

sice life was lent to me

I would rather fast on bread and water; five years and more7 born

KINDREDE A syr what ye be a mery man Take good herte to you and make no mone But one thynge I warne you by saynt Anne As for me ye shall go alone.

350

moan

EVERY MAN My cosyn wyll you not with me go. COSYN No by our lady I haue the cramp in my to Trust not to me for so god me spede I wyll deceyue you in your moost nede. KINDREDE It auayleth not vs to tyse Ye shall haue my mayde with all my herte She loueth to go to festes there to be nyse And to daunce and a brode to sterte 8 I wyll gyue her leue to helpe you in that Iourney If that you and she may a gree. EVERY MAN Now shewe me the very effecte of your mynde Wyll you go with me or abyde be hynde.

355

360

365

toe

avails; try to persuade us maid feasts; nice dance, run about town

behind

KINDREDE Abide behynde ye that wyll I and maye Therfore farewell tyll another daye. EVERY MAN Howe sholde I be mery or gladde For fayre promyses men to me make But whan I haue moost nede they me forsake I am deceyued that maketh me sadde. COSYN Cosyn euery man farewell now For veryly I wyl not go with you Also of myne owne an vnredy rekenynge I haue to accounte therfore I make taryenge Now god kepe the for now I go. EVERY MAN A Iesus is all come here to Lo fayre wordes maketh fooles fayne They promyse and nothynge wyll do certayne My kynnesmen promysed me faythfully For to a byde with me stedfastly And now fast a waye do they flee Euen so felawshyp promysed me What frende were best me of to prouyde I lose my tyme here longer to abyde Yet in my lyfe I haue loued ryches If that my good now helpe me myght

glad

370

375

380

385

stay behind

come to this fair words maketh fools feign; abide; steadfastly

waste

8 run

Everyman

137

He wolde make my herte full lyght I wyll speke to hym in this dystresse Where arte thou my gooddes and ryches. GOODES Who calleth me euery man what hast thou haste I lye here in corners trussed and pyled so hye And in chestes I am locked so fast Also sacked in bagges thou mayst se with thyn eye I can not styre in packes lowe I lye What wolde ye haue lyghtly me saye.

heart 390 what is the matter tucked and piled so high chests; securely 395

EVERY MAN Come hyder good in al the hast thou may For of counseyll I must desyre the. GOODES Syr & ye in the worlde haue sorowe or aduersyte That can I helpe you to remedy shortly. EVERY MAN It is another dysease that greueth me In this worlde it is not I tell the so I am sent for an other way to go To gyue a strayte counte generall Before the hyest Iupyter of all And all my lyfe I haue had Ioye & pleasure in the Therefore I pray the go with me For parauenture thou mayst before god almyghty My rekenynge helpe to clene and puryfye For it is sayd euer amonge That money maketh all ryght that is wronge. GOODES Nay euery man I synge an other songe I folowe no man in suche vyages For and I wente with the Thou sholdes fare moche the worse for me For bycause on me thou dyd set thy mynde Thy rekenynge I haue made blotted and blynde That thyne accounte thou can not make truly And that hast thou for the loue of me. EVERY MAN That wolde greue me full sore Whan I sholde come to that ferefull answere Vp let vs go thyther to gyder.

haste counsel; you

400

9 The world 138

Everyman

the world9

annoyance; grieves

405

Jupiter Joy; in you

410

peradventure=maybe purify people say

another 415

420

GOODES Nay not so I am to brytell I may not endure I wyll folowe man one fote be ye sure. EVERY MAN Alas I haue the loued and had grete pleasure All my lyfe dayes on good and treasure.

move

if I came with you you would fare much worse because of me

fearful together

brittle on foot 425

GOODES That is to thy dampnacyon without lesynge For my loue is contrary to the loue euerlastynge But yf thou had me loued moderately durynge As to the poore gyue parte of me Than sholdest thou not in this dolour be Nor in this grote sorowe and care.

damnation 430 great

EVERY MAN Lo now was I deceyued or I was ware And all I may wyte my spendynge of tyme. GOODES What wenest thou that I am thyne.

435

thought

440

condition; man’s destroy

EVERY MAN I had went so. GOODES Naye euery man I saye no As for a whyle I was lente the A season thou hast had me in prosperyte My condycyon is mannes soule to kyll Yf I saue one a thousande I do spyll Wenest thou that I wyll folowe the Nay fro this worlde not veryle.

verrily

EVERY MAN I had wende otherwyse. GOODES Therfore to thy soule good is a thefe For whan thou arte deed this is my gyse Another to deceyue in this same wyse As I haue done the and all to his soules reprefe. EVERY MAN O false good cursed thou hast deceyued me And caught me in thy snare.

445

450

GOODES Mary thou brought thy selfe in care Wherof I am gladde I must nedes laugh I can not be sadde. EVERY MAN A good thou hast had longe my hertely loue I gaue the that whiche sholde be the lordes aboue But wylte thou not go with me in dede I praye the trouth to saye.

goods; thief dead; this is my mission in the same way to you; reproof

trouble

455

belongs to the Lord above truth

GOODES No so god me spede Therfore fare well and haue good daye.

Everyman

139

EVERY MAN O to whome shall I make my mone For to go with me in that heuy Iournaye Fyrst felawshyp sayd he wolde with me gone His wordes were very plesaunte and gaye But afterwarde he lefte me alone Than spake I to my kynnesmen all in despayre An also they gaue me wordes fayre They lacked no fayre spekynge But all forsake me in the endynge Then wente I to my goodes that I loued best In hope to haue comforte but there had I leest For my goodes sharpely dyd me tell That he bryngeth many in to hell Than of my selfe I was ashamed And so I am worthy to be blamed Thus may I wel my selfe hate Of whome shall I now counsell take I thynke that I shall neuer spede Tyll that I go to my good dede But alas she is so weke That she can neuer go nor speke Yet wyll I venter on her now My good dedes where be you. GOOD DEDES Here I lye colde in the grounde Thy synnes hath me sore bounde That I can not stere.

460

465

470

480

venture

485

move fear

490

EVERY MAN Therfor I come to you my moone to make I praye you that ye wyll go with me. GOOD DEDES I wolde full fayne but I can not stande veryly.

Least

475

EVERY MAN O good dedes I stand in fere I must you pray of counseyll For helpe now sholde come ryght well. GOOD DEDES Euery man I haue vnderstandynge That ye be somoned of a counte to make Before Myssyas of Iherusalem kynge And you do by me yt Iournay wt you wyll I take.

moan heavy

Messias, of Jerusalem King by me10 moan

495

I cannot stand (on my feet)

EVERY MAN Why is there ony thynge on you fall.

has anything fallen on you

GOOD DEDES Ye syr I may thanke you of all Yf ye had parfytely chered me Your boke of counte full redy had be

I should thank you for all perfectly cheered would have been

10 According to my advice. (Quincy Adams) 140

Everyman

Loke how the bokes of your workes and dedes eke Ase how they lye vnder the fete To your soules heuynes.

500

sum up under the feet heaviness

EVERY MAN Our lorde Iesus helpe me For one letter here I can not se.

see

GOOD DEDES There is a blynde rekenynge in tyme of dystres.

505

EVERY MAN Good dedes I praye you helpe me in this nede Or elles I am for euer dampned in dede Therfore helpe me to make rekenynge Before the redemer of all thynge That kynge is and was and euer shall.

510

GOOD DEDES Euery man I am sory of your fall And fayne wolde I helpe you and I were able.

If I were able

EVERY MAN Good dedes your counseyll I pray you gyue me. GOOD DEDES That shall I do veryly Thoughe that on my fete I may not go I haue a syster that shall with you also Called knowledge whiche shall with you abyde To helpe you to make that dredefull rekenynge KNOWLEDGE Euery man I wyll go with the and be thy gyde In thy moost nede to go by thy syde.

515

520

EVERY MAN In good condycyon I am now in euery thynge And am hole content with this good thynge Thanked by god my creature. GOOD DEDES And whan he hath brought you there Where thou shalte hele the of thy smarte Than go you wt your rekenynge & your good dedes togyder For to make you Ioyfull at herte Before the blessed trynyte. EVERY MAN My good dedes gramercy I am well content certaynly With your wordes swete. KNOWLEDGE Now go we togyder louyngly To confessyon that clensyng ryuere.

readily feet

Condition wholly content God my creator

525

when heal you of your pain Trinity.

530

sweet lovingly Confession; cleansing river

Everyman

141

EVERY MAN For Ioy I wepe I wolde we were there But I pray you gyue me cognycyon Where dwelleth that holy man confessyon. KNOWLEDGE In the hous of saluacyon We shall fynde hym in that place That shall vs comforte by goddes grace Lo this is confessyon knele downe & aske mercy For he is in good conceyte with god almyghty. EVERY MAN O gloryous fountayne yt all vnclennes doth claryfy Wasshe from me the spottes of vyce vnclene That on me no synne may be sene I come with knowledge for my redempcyon Redempte with herte and full contrycyon For I am commaunded a pylgrymage to take And grete accountes before god to make Now I praye you shryfte moder of saluacyon Helpe my good dedes for my pyteous exclamacyon. CONFESSYON I knowe your sorowe well euery man Bycause with knowlege ye came to me I wyll you comforte as well as I can And a precyous Iewell I will gyue the Called penaunce voyce voyder of aduersyte therwith shall your body chastysed be With abstynence & perseueraunce in goddes seruyce Here shall you receyue that scourge of me Whiche is penaunce stronge that ye must endure To remembre thy sauyour was scourged for the With sharpe scourges and suffred it pacyently So must yu or thou scape that paynful pylgrymage Knowlege kepe hym in this vyage And hy tyme good dedes wyll be with the But in ony wyse be seker of mercy For your tyme draweth fast and ye wyll saued be Aske god mercy and he wyll graunte truely Whan wt the scourge of penaunce man doth hym bynde The oyle of forgyuenes than shall he fynde. EVERY MAN Thanked be god for his gracyous werke For now I wyll my penaunce begyn This hath reioysed and lyghted my herte Though the knottes be paynfull and harde within KNOWLEDGE Euery man loke your penaunce that ye fulfyll What payne that euer it to you be And knowledge shall gyue you counseyll at wyll 11 Penance imposed by the priest after confession 12 Probably addresses members of the audience. 142

Everyman

535

I wish we were there cognition

house of salvation We shall find him in that place, 540

kneel high esteem uncleanliness vice unclean

545

550

555

560

565

570

redemption repent; heart shrift11 piteous exclamation

precious jewel wise voider of adversity chastised abstinence and perseverance scourge for your sake patiently 12 you or you; escape course high seeker if you want to be saved grant bond oil of forgiveness work rejoiced knots

575

How your accounte ye shall make clerely. EVERY MAN O eternall god O heuenly fygure O way of ryghtwysnes O goodly vysyon Whiche descended downe in a vyrgyn pure Bycause he wolde euery man redeme Whiche Adam forfayted by his dysobedyence O blessyd god heed electe and hye deuyne Forgyve my greuous offence Here I crye the mercy in this presence O ghostly treasure. O ransomer and redemer Of all the worlde hope and conduyter Myrrour of Ioye foundatour of mercy Whiche enlumyneth heuen and erth therby Here my clamorous complaynt though it late be Receyue my prayers vnworthy in this heuy lyfe Though I be a synner moost abhomnynable Yet let my name be wryten in moyses table O mary praye to the maker of all thynge Me for to helpe at my endynge And saue me fro the power of my enemy For deth assayleth me strongly And lady that I may by meane of thy prayer Of your sones glory to be partynere By the meanes of his passyon I it craue I beseeche you helpe my soule to saue Knowlege gyue me the scourge of penaunce My flesshe therwith shall gyue acqueyntaunce I wyll now begyn yf god gyue me grace. KNOWLEDGE Euery man god gyue you tyme and space Thus I bequeth you in ye handes of our sauyour Now may you make your rekenynge sure EVERY MAN In the name of the holy trynyte My body sore punysshyd shall be Take this body for the synne of the flesse Also thou delytest to go gay and fresshe And in the way of dampnacyon yu dyd me brynge Therfore suffre now strokes of punysshynge Now of penaunce I wyll wade the water clere To saue me from purgatory that sharp fyre.

580

585

590

595

600

conductor=guide mirror of joy; founder illuminates abominable Moses’ table Mary assails by means partaker

acquantance

605

610

bequeath

punished flesh bring punishment

615

GOOD DEDES I thanke god now I can walke and go And am delyuered of my sykenesse and wo Therfore with euery man I wyll go and not spare His good workes I wyll helpe hym to declare. KNOWLEDGE Now euery man be mery and glad Your good dedes cometh now ye may not be sad Now is your good dedes hole and sounde

righteousness; vision, virgin wished to forfeited; disobedience Godhead; high-divine

fire

delivered; woe spare (myslef)

620 whole and sound

Everyman

143

Goynge vpryght vpon the grounde. EVERY MAN My herte is lyght and shalbe euermore Now will I smite faster than I dyde before. GOOD DEDES Euery man pylgryme my specyall frende Blessed be thou without ende For the is preparate the eternall glory Ye haue me made hole and sounde Therfore I wyll byde by the in euery stounde.

625

for you is prepared 630

EVERY MAN Welcome my good dedes now I here thy voyce I wepe for very swetenes of loue. KNOWLEDGE Be no more sad but euer reioyce God seeth thy lyuynge in his trone aboue Put on this garment to thy behoue Whiche is wette with your teres Or elles before god you may it mysse Whan ye to your iourneys ende come shall.

shall be evermore harder

remain with you; always

sweetness of love

635

for your benefit be lacking it

EVERY MAN Gentyll knowlege what do ye it call. KNOWLEDGE It is a garmente of sorowe Fro payne it wyll you borowe Contrycyon it is That getteth forgyuenes He pleasyth god passynge well. GOOD DEDES Euery man wyll you were it for your hele.

640 gains forgiveness very much 645

wear; healing

EVERY MAN Now blessyd be Iesu maryes sone For now haue I on true contrycyon And lette vs go now without taryenge Good dedes haue we clere our rekenynge. GOOD DEDES Ye in dede I haue here. EVERY MAN Than I trust we nede not fere Now frendes let vs not parte in twayne.

650 fear separate

KNOWLEDGE Nay euery man that wyll we not certayne. GOOD DEDES Yet must thou led with the 144

Everyman

lead

Three persones of grete myght.

655

great might

EVERY MAN Who sholde they be. GOOD DEDES Dyscrecyon and strength they hyght And thy beaute may not abyde behynde. KNOWLEDGE Also ye must call to mynde Your fyue wyttes as for your counseylours.

Discretion;13 they are called Beauty;

660

Five-wits; counsellors

GOOD DEDES You must haue them redy at all houres. EVERY MAN How shall I get them hyder.

hither

KYNDREDE You must call them all togyder And they wyll here you in contynent. EVERY MAN My frendes come hyder and be present Dyscrecyon strengthe my fyue wyttes and beaute.

hear; and come together 665

BEAUTE Here at your wyll we be all redy What wyll ye that we sholde do. GOOD DEDES That ye wolde with euery man go And helpe hym in his pylgrymage Aduyse you wyll ye with him or not in that vyage.

ready

670

STRENGTHE We wyll brynge hym all thyder To his helpe and comforte ye may beleue me.

voyage

trust me

DISCRECION So wyll we go with him all togyder. EVERY MAN Almyghty god loued myght thou be I gyue the laude that I haue hyder brought Strength dyscrecyon beaute & .v. wyttes lack I nought And my good dedes with knowlege clere All be in my company at my wyll here I desyre no more to my besynes. STRENGTHE And I strength wyll by you stande in dystres Though thou wolde I batayle fyght in the grounde.

675

beloved praise

680

business by you(r side) stand in distress do battle; fight on the ground

13 Judgment, the ability to reason.

Everyman

145

V. WYTTES And though it were thrugh the worlde rounde We wyll not departe for swete ne soure. BEAUTE No more wyll I vnto dethes houre What so euer therof befall. DISCRECION Euery man aduyse you fyrst of all Go with a good aduysement and delyberacyon We all gyue you vertuous monycyon That all shall be well. EVERY MAN My frendes harken what I wyll tell I praye god rewarde you in his heuen spere Now herken all that be here For I wyll make my testament Here before you all present In almes halfe my good I wyll gyue wt my handes twayne In the way of charyte wt good entent And the other halfe styll shall remayne In queth to be retourned there it ought to be This I do in despyte of the fende of hell To go quyte out of his perell Euer after and this daye. KNOWLEDGE Euery man herken what I saye Go to presthode I you aduyse And receyue of him in ony wyse The holy sacrment and oyntement togyder Than shortly se ye tourne agayne hyder We wyll all abyde you here. V. WITTES Ye euery man hye you that ye redy were There is no Emperour Kinge Duke ne Baron That of god hath commycyon As hath the leest preest in the worlde beynge For of the blessyd sacramentes pure and benygne He bereth the keyes and therof hath the cure For mannes redempcyon it is euer sure Whiche god for our soules medycyne Gaue vs out of his herte with grete payne Here in this transytory lyfe for the and me The blessed sacramentes .vii. there be Baptym confyrmacyon with preesthode good And ye sacrament of goddes precyous flesshe & blod Maryage the holy extreme vnccyon and penaunce These seuen be good to haue in remembraunce Gracyous sacramentes of hye deuy[n]yte.

better or worse 685

690

deliberation virtuous monition=instruction

listen heavenly sphere 695 good intent 700

705

710

715

720

bequest fiend peril

priesthood in any wise ointment together quickly come back here wait for you go quickly commission least priest benign redemption

seven14 baptism, confirmation precious flesh and blood the holy extreme unction high divinity

14 The seven sacraments: Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Communion, Confession, Marriage, Holy Orders, and the Anointing of the Sick. 146

Everyman

EVERY MAN Fayne wolde I receyue that holy body And mekely to my ghostly fader I wyll go. V. WITTES Euery man that is the best that ye can do God wyll you to saluacyon brynge For preesthode excedeth all other thynge To vs holy scrypture they do teche And conuerteth man fro synne heuen to reche God hath to them more power gyuen Than to ony aungell that is in heuen With .v. wordes he may consecrate Goddes body in flesse and blode to make And handleth his maker bytwene his hande The preest byndeth and vnbyndeth all bandes Both in erthe and in heuen Thou mynystres all the sacramentes seuen Though we kysse thy fete thou were worthy Thou arte surgyon that cureth synne deedly No remedy we fynde vnder god Bute all onely preesthode Euery man god gaue preest that dygnyte And setteth them in his stede amonge vs to be Thus be they aboue aungelles in degree. KNOWLEDGE If preestes be good it is so surely But whan Iesu hanged on ye crosse wt grete smarte There he gaue out of his blessyd herte The same sacrament in grete tourment He solde them not to vs that lorde omnypotent Therefore saynt peter the apostell dothe saye That Iesus curse hath all they Whiche god theyr sauyour do by or sell Or they for ony money do take or tell Synfull preeste gyueth the synners example bad Theyr chyldren sytteth by other mennes fyres I haue harde And some haunteth womens company With vnclene lyfe as lustes of lechery These be with synne made blynde. V. WITTES I trust to god no suche may we fynde Therfore let vs preesthode honour And followe theyr doctryne for our soules socoure We be theyr shepe and they shepeherdes be By whome we all be kepte in suerte Peas for yonder I se euery man come Whiche hath made true satysfaccyon.

725

730

735

meekly; spiritual father

teach converteth; heaven to reach any angel five words binds and unbinds all bonds

740

surgeon that cures deadly sin only priesthood

745

set; in his stead

sure15 pain 750

755

torment

buy or sell sit by other men’s fires; heard

760

souls’ succour 765

surety satisfaction

GOOD DEDES Me thynke it is he in dede.

15 I.e. that they are above the angels.

Everyman

147

EVERY MAN Now Iesu be your alder spede I haue receyued the sacrament for my redemcyon And than myne extreme vnccyon Blessyd be all they that counseyled me to take it And now frendes let vs go with out longer respyte I thanke god that ye haue taryed so longe Now set eche of you on this rodde your honde And shortely folowe me I go before there I wolde be God be your gyde.

770

without 775

STRENGTH Euery man we wyll not fro you go Tyll ye haue done this vyage longe. DYSCRECION I dyscrecyon wyll byde by you also.

on this rod your hand closely

leave you

780

KNOWLEDGE And though this pylgrymage be neuer so stronge I wyll neuer parte you fro Euery man I wyll be as sure by the As euer I dyde by Iudas Machabee. EVERY MAN Alas I am so faynt I may not stande My lymmes vnder me doth folde Frendes let vs not tourne agayne to this lande Not for all the worldes golde For in this caue must I crepe And tourne to erth and there to slepe.

good speed to all of you16 redemption unction

stay by you

Judas Maccabee17 785

790

limbs cave; creep turn to earth and there to sleep

BEAUTE What in this graue alas. EVERY MAN Ye there shall ye consume more and lesse.

more and less18

BEAUTE And what sholde I smoder here. EVERY MAN Ye by my fayth and neuer more appere In this worlde lyue no more we shall But in heuen before the hyest lorde of all. BEAUTE I crosse out all this adewe by saynt Iohan I take my tappe in my lappe and am gone.

smother

795

nevermore

adieu by Saint John my cap in my lap19

16 Jesus be the one to give prosperity to you all. 17 Cf. The Apocrypha, I Maccabees, III. (Quincy Adams) 18 Great and lesser persons alike. Compare Dethe: Lorde I wyll in the worlde go renne ouer all / And cruelly out searche bothe grete and small 19 I take off my cap so deep that it goes into my lap. 148

Everyman

EVERY MAN What beaute whyder wyll ye. BEAUTE Peas I am defe I loke not behynde me Not & thou woldest gyue me all ye golde in thy chest.

where will you (go) 800

peace; deaf not even if you gave me

805

deny I do not like your game

EVERY MAN Alas wherto may I truste Beaute gothe fast awaye from me She promysed with me to lyue and dye. STRENGTH Euery man I wyll the also forsake and denye Thy game lyketh me not at all. EVERY MAN Why than ye wyll forsake me all Swete strength tary a lytell space. STRENGTHE Nay syr by the rode of grace I will hye me from the fast Though thou wepe to thy herte to brast.

tarry=wait; space=time

810

EVERY MAN Ye wolde euer byde by me ye sayd. STRENGTH Ye I haue you ferre ynoughe conueyde Ye be olde ynoughe I vnderstande Your pylgrymage to take on hande I repent me that I hyder came.

I was there when you said it conveyed you far enough 815

EVERY MAN Strength you to dysplease I am to blame Wyll ye breke promyse that is dette. STRENGTH In fayth I care not Thou arte but a foole to complayne You spende your speche and wast your brayne Go thryst the in to the grounde. EVERY MAN I had wende surer I shulde you haue founde He that trusteth in his strength She hym deceyueth at the length Bothe strength and beaute forsaketh me Yet they promysed me fayre and louyngly.

rood of grace=the Holy Cross (away) from you burst to pieces

continue on your own

debt=owed

820

waste your brain thrust yourself onto the ground

825 although

DYSCRECION Euery man I will after strength be gone As for me I will leue you alone.

Everyman

149

EVERY MAN Why dyscrecyon wyll ye forsake me.

830

DYSCRECION Ye in fayth I wyll go fro the For whan strength goth before I folowe after euer more. EVERY MAN Yet I pray the for the loue of the trynyte Loke in my graue ones pyteously.

when always

835

DYSCRECYON Nay so nye wyll I not come Fare well euerychone. EVERY MAN O all thynge fayleth saue god alone Beaute strength and discrecyon For whan deth bloweth his blast They all renne fro me full fast.

farewell, everyone fail; save=except 840

V. WITTES Euery man my leue now of the I take I wyll folowe the other for here I the forsake. EVERY MAN Alas than may I wayle and wepe For I took you for my best frende.

once

run (away) from me take his leave of you

845

V. WITTES I wyll no lenger the kepe Now fare well and there an ende.

wail and weep

stay with you

EVERY MAN O Iesu helpe all hath forsaken me. GOOD DEDES Nay euey man I will byde with the I wyll not forsake the in dede Thou shalte fynde me a good frende at nede. EVERY MAN Gramercy good dedes now may I true frendes se They haue forsaken me euerychone I loued them better than my good dedes alone Knowlege wyll ye forsake me also. KNOWLEDGE Ye euery man whan ye to deth shall go But not yet for no maner of daunger. EVERY MAN Gramercy knowlege with all my herte.

150

Everyman

850

indeed in need many thanks everyone

855 when for any manner of danger

KNOWLEDGE Nay yet I wyll not from hens departe Tyll I se where ye shall be come. EVERY MAN Me thynke alas that I must be gone To make my rekenynge and my dettes paye For I se my tyme is nye spent awaye Take example all ye that this do here or se How they that I loue best do forsake me Excepte my good dedes that bydeth truely. GOOD DEDES All erthly thynges is but vanyte Beaute strength and dyscrecyon do man forsake Folysshe frendes and kynnesmen that fayre spake All fleeth saue good dedes and that am I.

860

865

arrive

pay my debts nearly hear or see

earthly; vanity 870

EVERY MAN Haue mercy on me god moost myghty And stande by me thou moder & mayde holy Mary

foolish flee

Mother and Maid

GOOD DEDES Fere not I wyll speke for the. EVERY MAN Here I crye god mercy. GOOD DEDES Shorte oure ende and mynysshe our payne Let vs go and neuer come agayne. EVERY MAN In to thy handes lorde my soule I commende Receyue it lorde that it be not lost As thou me boughtest so me defende And saue me from the fendes boost That I may appere with that blessyd hoost That shall be saued at the day of dome. In manus tuas of myghtes moost For euer Commendo spiritum meum. KNOWLEDGE Now hath he suffred that we all shall endure The good dedes shall make all sure Now hath he made endynge Me thynketh that I here aungelles synge And make grete Ioy and melody Where euery mannes soule recyued shall be. THE AUNGELL Come excellent electe spouse to Iesu Here aboue thou shalte go Bycause of thy syngular vertue Now the soule is taken the body fro

875

shorten; diminish our pain

bought 880

the fiend’s boast, blessed host day of doom In manus tuas…20

885

890

received

singular virtue taken from the body

20 Into thy hands I commend my spirit. (Luke 23:46)

Everyman

151

Thy rekenynge is crystall clere Now shalte thou in to the heuenly spere Vnto the whiche all ye shall come That lyueth well before the daye of dome. DOCTOUR This morall men may haue in mynde Ye hearers take it of worth olde and yonge And forsake pryde for he deceyueth you in the ende And remembre beaute .v. wyttes strength & dy[s]crecion They all at the last do euery man forsake Saue his good dedes there dothe he take But be ware and they be small Before god he hath no helpe at all None excuse may be there for euery man Alas how shall he do than For after dethe amendes may no man make For than mercy and pyte doth hym forsake If his rekenynge be not clere whan he doth come God wyll saye (ite maledicti in ignem eternum) 21 And he that hath his accounte hole and sounde Hye in heuen he shall be crounde Vnto whiche place god brynge vs all thyder That we may lyue body and soule togyder Therto helpe the trynyte Amen saye ye for saynt charyte. FINIS Thus endeth this morall playe of EVERY MAN Imprynted at London in Poules Chyrche yarde by me Johnn Skot.

21 Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire (Matthew 25:41). 152

Everyman

895

900

905

beware; if

910

then f

915

high; crowned

LE MORTE DARTHUR (BOOK II)

Le Morte Darthur is a prose compilation of medieval Romances by Sir Thomas Malory completed c.1470 and published by William Caxton in 1485. The work survives both in a series of early print editions and a single manuscript discovered in the library of Winchester College in 1934. Some significant differences between the language and organisation of Caxton’s text and those of the Winchester Manuscript have been noted and thoroughly discussed by Eugene Vinaver and later researchers. Both sources contain the name of Sir Thomas Malory as well as the information that he is a knight prisoner, but there are several different historical figures that scholars associate with the author of Le Morte Darthur. The book tells the famous tale of King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. It begins with Arthur’s birth, traces his rise to power, the founding of his kingdom and the Round Table, the various adventures of individual knights, the quest for the Holy Grail, the story of Lancelot and Guenivere, and ends with Arthur’s death. Malory draws from a variety of English and French sources which he freely retells, adapts, translates and develops. The adventures of the knights he describes demonstrate the chivalric values endorsed by European aristocrats throughout the medieval period, but subtler critical parallels can also be drawn between Malory’s stories and the historical context of the Wars of the Roses that were fought during the author’s lifetime. -E.P.

CHAPTER I Of a damosel which came girt with a sword for to find a man of such virtue to draw it out of the scabbard. After the death of Uther Pendragon reigned Arthur his son, the which had great war in his days for to get all England into his hand. For there were many kings within the realm of England, and in Wales, Scotland, and Cornwall. So it befell on a time when King Arthur was at London, there came a knight and told the king tidings how that the King Rience of North Wales had reared1 a great number of people, and were entered into the land, and burnt and slew the king's true liege people2. If this be true, said Arthur, it were great shame unto mine estate but that he were mightily withstood. It is truth, said the knight, for I saw the host myself. Well, said the king, let make a cry, that all the lords, knights, and gentlemen of arms, should draw unto a castle called Camelot in those days, and there the king would let make a council-general and a great jousts. So when the king was come thither with all his baronage, and lodged as they seemed best, there was 1 raised 2 feudal lords

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come a damosel the which was sent on message from the great lady Lile of Avelion. And when she came before King Arthur, she told from whom she came, and how she was sent on message unto him for these causes. Then she let her mantle fall that was richly furred; and then was she girt with a noble sword whereof the king had marvel, and said, Damosel, for what cause are ye girt with that sword? it beseemethyou not.3 Now shall I tell you, said the damosel; this sword that I am girt withal doth me great sorrow and cumbrance, for I may not be delivered of this sword but by a knight, but he must be a passing good man of his hands and of his deeds, and without villainy or treachery, and without treason. And if I may find such a knight that hath all these virtues, he may draw out this sword out of the sheath, for I have been at King Rience's4 it was told me there were passing good knights, and he and all his knights have assayed it and none can speed5.This is a great marvel, said Arthur, if this be sooth; I will myself assay to draw out the sword, not presuming upon myself that I am the best knight, but that I will begin to draw at your sword in giving example to all the barons that they shall assay everych6 one after other when I have assayed it. Then Arthur took the sword by the sheath and by the girdle and pulled at it eagerly, but the sword would not out. Sir, said the damosel, you need not to pull half so hard, for he that shall pull it out shall do it with little might. Ye say well, said Arthur; now assay ye all my barons; but beware ye be not defiled with shame, treachery, nor guile. Then it will not avail, said the damosel, for he must be a clean knight without villainy, and of a gentle strain of father side and mother side. Most of all the barons of the Round Table that were there at that time assayed all by row, but there might none speed; wherefore the damosel made great sorrow out of measure, and said, Alas! I weened7 in this court had been the best knights without treachery or treason. By my faith, said Arthur, here are good knights, as I deem, as any be in the world, but their grace is not to help you, wherefore I am displeased. CHAPTER II How Balin, arrayed like a poor knight, pulled out the sword, which afterward was the cause of his death. Then fell it so that time there was a poor knight with King Arthur, that had been prisoner with him half a year and more for slaying of a knight, the which was cousin unto King Arthur. The name of this knight was called Balin, and by good means of the barons he was delivered out of prison, for he was a good man named of his body,8 and he was born in Northumberland. And so he went privily9 into the court, and saw this adventure, whereof it raised his heart, and he would assay it as other knights did, but for he was poor and poorly arrayed he put him not far in press.10 But in his heart he was fully assured to do as well, if his grace happed him, as any knight that there was. And as the damosel took her leave of Arthur and of all the barons, so departing, this knight Balin called unto her, and said, Damosel, I pray you of your courtesy,

3 it does not become you 4 the King of North Wales and enemy to King Arthur 5 succeed 6 every 7 thought 8 of good repute 9 secretly 10 not in the front of the line 154

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suffer me as well to assay as these lords; though that I be so poorly clothed, in my heart meseemeth11 I am fully assured as some of these others, and meseemeth in my heart to speed right well. The damosel beheld the poor knight, and saw he was a likely12 man, but for his poor arrayment she thought he should be of no worship13 without villainy or treachery. And then she said unto the knight, Sir, it needeth not to put me to more pain or labour, for it seemeth not you to speed there as other have failed. Ah! fair damosel, said Balin, worthiness, and good tatches,14 and good deeds, are not only in arrayment, but manhood and worship is hid within man's person, and many a worshipful knight is not known unto all people, and therefore worship and hardiness is not in arrayment. By God, said the damosel, ye say sooth;15 therefore ye shall assay to do what ye may. Then Balin took the sword by the girdle and sheath, and drew it out easily; and when he looked on the sword it pleased him much. Then had the king and all the barons great marvel that Balin had done that adventure, and many knights had great despite of Balin. Certes, said the damosel, this is a passing good knight, and the best that ever I found, and most of worship without treason, treachery, or villainy, and many marvels shall he do. Now, gentle and courteous knight, give me the sword again. Nay, said Balin, for this sword will I keep, but it be taken from me with force. Well, said the damosel, ye are not wise to keep the sword from me, for ye shall slay with the sword the best friend that ye have, and the man that ye most love in the world, and the sword shall be your destruction. I shall take the adventure, said Balin, that God will ordain me, but the sword ye shall not have at this time, by the faith of my body. Ye shall repent it within short time, said the damosel, for I would have the sword more for your avail than for mine, for I am passing heavy16 for your sake; for ye will not believe that sword shall be your destruction, and that is great pity. With that the damosel departed, making great sorrow. Anon after, Balin sent for his horse and armour, and so would depart from the court, and took his leave of King Arthur. Nay, said the king, I suppose ye will not depart so lightly from this fellowship, I suppose ye are displeased that I have shewed you unkindness; blame me the less, for I was misinformed against you, but I weened ye had not been such a knight as ye are, of worship and prowess, and if ye will abide in this court among my fellowship, I shall so advance you as ye shall be pleased. God thank your highness, said Balin, your bounty and highness may no man praise half to the value; but at this time I must needs depart, beseeching you alway of your good grace. Truly, said the king, I am right wroth for your departing; I pray you, fair knight, that ye tarry not long, and ye shall be right welcome to me, and to my barons, and I shall amend all miss that I have done against you; God thank your great lordship, said Balin, and therewith made him ready to depart. Then the most part of the knights of the Round Table said that Balin did not this adventure all only by might, but by witchcraft. CHAPTER III How the Lady of the Lake demanded the knight's head that had won the sword, or the maiden's head. The meanwhile, that this knight was making him ready to depart, there came into the court a lady that 11 I believe 12 handsome 13 high class 14 qualities 15 truth 16 sad

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hight17 the Lady of the Lake. And she came on horseback, richly beseen,18 and saluted King sooth, said Arthur, a gift I promised you, but I have forgotten the name of my sword that ye gave me. The name of it, said the lady, is Excalibur, that is as much to say as Cut-steel. Ye say well, said the king; ask what ye will and ye shall have it, an it lie in my power to give it. Well, said the lady, I ask the head of the knight that hath won the sword, or else the damosel's head that brought it; I take no force though19 I have both their heads, for he slew my brother, a good knight and a true, and that gentlewoman was causer of my father's death. Truly, said King Arthur, I may not grant neither of their heads with my worship,20 therefore ask what ye will else, and I shall fulfil your desire. I will ask none other thing, said the lady. When Balin was ready to depart, he saw the Lady of the Lake, that by her means had slain Balin's mother, and he had sought her three years; and when it was told him that she asked his head of King Arthur, he went to her straight and said, Evil be you found; ye would have my head, and therefore ye shall lose yours, and with his sword lightly he smote off her head before King Arthur. Alas, for shame! said Arthur, why have ye done so? ye have shamed me and all my court, for this was a lady that I was beholden to, and hither she came under my safe-conduct; I shall never forgive you that trespass. Sir, said Balin, me forthinketh21 of your displeasure, for this same lady was the untruest lady living, and by enchantment and sorcery she hath been the destroyer of many good knights, and she was causer that my mother was burnt, through her falsehood and treachery. What cause soever22 ye had, said Arthur, ye should have forborne her in my presence; therefore, think not the contrary, ye shall repent it, for such another despite had I never in my court; therefore withdraw you out of my court in all haste ye may. Then Balin took up the head of the lady, and bare it with him to his hostelry, and there he met with his squire, that was sorry he had displeased King Arthur and so they rode forth out of the town. Now, said Balin, we must depart, take thou this head and bear it to my friends, and tell them how I have sped, and tell my friends in Northumberland that my most foe is dead. Also tell them how I am out of prison, and what adventure befell me at the getting of this sword. Alas! said the squire, ye are greatly to blame for to displease King Arthur. As for that, said Balin, I will hie me, in all the haste that I may, to meet with King Rience and destroy him, either else to die therefore; and if it may hap me to win him, then will King Arthur be my good and gracious lord. Where shall I meet with you? said the squire. In King Arthur's court, said Balin. So his squire and he departed at that time. Then King Arthur and all the court made great dole and had shame of the death of the Lady of the Lake. Then the king buried her richly. CHAPTER IV How Merlin told the adventure of this damosel. At that time there was a knight, the which was the king's son of Ireland, and his name was Lanceor, the which was an orgulous knight, and counted himself one of the best of the court; and he had great despite at Balin for the achieving of the sword, that any should be accounted more hardy, or more of prowess; and 17 called 18 dressed 19 I could as well 20 and keep my honour intact 21 I am truly sorry 22 whatever 156

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he asked King Arthur if he would give him leave to ride after Balin and to revenge the despite that he had done. Do your best, said Arthur, I am right wroth with Balin; I would he were quit of the despite that he hath one to me and to my court. 23 Then this Lanceor went to his hostelry to make him ready. In the meanwhile came Merlin unto the court of King Arthur, and there was told him the adventure of the sword, and the death of the Lady of the Lake. Now shall I say you, said Merlin; this same damosel that here standeth, that brought the sword unto your court, I shall tell you the cause of her coming: she was the falsest damosel that liveth. Say not so, said they. She hath a brother, a passing good knight of prowess and a full true man; and this damosel loved another knight that held her to paramour, and this good knight her brother met with the knight that held her to paramour, and slew him by force of his hands. When this false damosel understood this, she went to the Lady Lile of Avelion, and besought her of help, to be avenged on her own brother. CHAPTER V How Balin was pursued by Sir Lanceor, knight of Ireland, and how he jousted and slew him. And so this Lady Lile of Avelion took24 her this sword that she brought with her, and told there should no man pull it out of the sheath but if he be one of the best knights of this realm, and he should be hard and full of prowess, and with that sword he should slay her brother. This was the cause that the damosel came into this court. I know it as well as ye. Would God she had not come into this court, but she came never in fellowship of worship to do good, but always great harm; and that knight that hath achieved the sword shall be destroyed by that sword, for the which will be great damage, for there liveth not a knight of more prowess than he is, and he shall do unto you, my Lord Arthur, great honour and kindness; and it is great pity he shall not endure but a while, for of his strength and hardiness I know not his match living. So the knight of Ireland armed him at all points, and dressed his shield on his shoulder, and mounted upon horseback, and took his lance in his hand, and rode after a great pace, as much as his horse might go; and within a little space on a mountain he had a sight of Balin, and with a loud voice he cried, Abide,25 knight, for ye shall abide whether ye will or nill,26 and the shield that is to-fore you shall not help. When Balin heard the noise, he turned his horse fiercely, and said, Fair knight, what will ye with me, will ye joust with me? Yea, said the Irish knight, therefore come I after you. Peradventure, said Balin, it had been better to have holden you athome, for many a man weeneth to put his enemy to a rebuke, and oft it falleth to himself. Of what court be ye sent from? said Balin. I am come from the court of King Arthur, said the knight of Ireland, that come hither for to revenge the despite ye did this day to King Arthur and to his court. Well, said Balin, I see well I must have ado with you, that me forthinketh for to grieve King Arthur, or any of his court; and your quarrel is full simple, said Balin, unto me, for the lady that is dead, did me great damage, and else would I have been loath as any knight that liveth for to slay a lady. Make you ready, said the knight Lanceor, and dress27 you unto me, for that one shall abide in the field. Then they took their spears, and came together as much as their horses might drive, and the Irish knight smote Balin on the 23 I wish that his trespass is requited 24 gave 25 wait 26 whether you want or not 27 address

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shield, that all went shivers off his spear, and Balin hit him through the shield, and the hauberk28 perished, and so pierced through his body and the horse's croup,29 and anon turned his horse fiercely, and drew out his sword, and wist not30 that he had slain him; and then he saw him lie as a dead corpse. CHAPTER VI How a damosel, which was love to Lanceor, slew herself for love, and how Balin met with his brother Balan. Then he looked by him, and was ware of a damosel that came riding full fast as the horse might ride, on a fair palfrey. And when she espied that Lanceor was slain, she made sorrow out of measure, and said, O Balin, two bodies thou hast slain and one heart, and two hearts in one body, and two souls thou hast lost. And therewith she took the sword from her love that lay dead, and fell to the ground in a swoon. And when she arose she made great dole out of measure, the which sorrow grieved Balin passingly sore, and he went unto her for to have taken the sword out of her hand, but she held it so fast he might not take it out of her hand unless he should have hurt her, and suddenly she set the pommel to the ground, and rove31 herself through the body. When Balin espied her deeds, he was passing heavy in his heart, and ashamed that so fair a damosel had destroyed herself for the love of his death. Alas, said Balin, me repenteth sore the death of this knight, for the love of this damosel, for there was much true love betwixt them both, and forsorrow might not longer behold him, but turned his horse and looked toward a great forest, and there he was ware, by the arms,32 of his brother Balan. And when they were met they put off their helms and kissed together, and wept for joy and pity. Then Balan said, I little weened to have met with you at this sudden adventure; I am right glad of your deliverance out of your dolorous prisonment, for a man told me, in the castle of Four Stones, that ye were delivered, and that man had seen you in the court of King Arthur, and therefore I came hither into this country, for here I supposed to find you. Anon the knight Balin told his brother of his adventure of the sword, and of the death of the Lady of the Lake, and how King Arthur was displeased with him. Wherefore he sent this knight after me, that lieth here dead, and the death of this damosel grieveth me sore. So doth it me, said Balan, but ye must take the adventure that God will ordain you. Truly, said Balin, I am right heavy that my Lord Arthur is displeased with me, for he is the most worshipful knight that reigneth now on earth, and his love will I get or else will I put my life in adventure. For the King Rience lieth at a siege at the Castle Terrabil, and thither will we draw in all haste, to prove our worship and prowess upon him. I will well, said Balan, that we do, and we will help each other as brethren ought to do. CHAPTER VII How a dwarf reproved Balin for the death of Lanceor, and how King Mark of Cornwall found them, and made a tomb over them. Now go we hence, said Balin, and well be we met. The meanwhile as they talked, there came a dwarf from the city of Camelot on horseback, as much as he might; and found the dead bodies, wherefore he made 28 coat of mail 29 the rump of the horse 30 not knowing 31 stabbed 32 coat of arms 158

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great dole, and pulled out his hair for sorrow, and said, Which of you knights have done this deed? Whereby askest thou it? said Balan. For I would wit it, said the dwarf. It was I, said Balin, that slew this knight in my defence, for hither he came to chase me, and either I must slay him or he me; and this damosel slew herself for his love, which repenteth me, and for her sake I shall owe all women the better love. Alas, said the dwarf, thou hast done great damage unto thyself, for this knight that is here dead was one of the most valiantest men that lived, and trust well, Balin, the kin of this knight will chase you through the world till they have slain you. As for that, said Balin, I fear not greatly, but I am right heavy that I have displeased my lord King Arthur, for the death of this knight. So as they talked together, there came a king of Cornwall riding, the which hight King Mark. And when he saw these two bodies dead, and understood how they were dead, by the two knights above said, then made the king great sorrow for the true love that was betwixt them, and said, I will not depart till I have on this earth made a tomb, and there he pight33 his pavilions and sought through all the country to find a tomb, and in a church they found one was fair and rich, and then the king let put them both in the earth, and put the tomb upon them, and wrote the names of them both on the tomb. How here lieth Lanceor the king's son of Ireland, that at his own request was slain by the hands of Balin; and how his lady, Colombe, and paramour, slew herself with her love's sword for dole and sorrow. CHAPTER VIII How Merlin prophesied that two the best knights of the world should fight there, which were Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram. The meanwhile as this was a-doing,34 in came Merlin to King Mark, and seeing all his doing, said, Here shall be in this same place the greatest battle betwixt two knights that was or ever shall be, and the truest lovers, and yet none of them shall slay other. And there Merlin wrote their names upon the tomb with letters of gold that should fight in that place, whose names were Launcelot de Lake, and Tristram. Thou art a marvellous man, said King Mark unto Merlin, that speakest of such marvels, thou art a boistous man and an unlikely to tell of such deeds.35 What is thy name? said King Mark. At this time, said Merlin, I will not tell, but at that time when Sir Tristram is taken with his sovereign lady, then ye shall hear and know my name, and at that time ye shall hear tidings that shall not please you. Then said Merlin to Balin, Thou hast done thyself great hurt, because that thou savest not this lady that slew herself, that might have saved her an thou wouldest. By the faith of my body, said Balin, I might not save her, for she slew herself suddenly. Me repenteth, said Merlin; because of the death of that lady thou shalt strike a stroke most dolorous that ever man struck, except the stroke of our Lord, for thou shalt hurt the truest knight and the man of most worship that now liveth, and through that stroke three kingdoms shall be in great poverty, misery and wretchedness twelve years, and the knight shall not be whole of that wound36 for many years. Then Merlin took his leave of Balin. And Balin said, If I wist it were sooth that ye say I should do such a perilous deed as that, I would slay myself to make thee a liar. Therewith Merlin vanished away suddenly. And then Balan and his brother took their leave of King Mark. First, said the king, tell me your name. Sir, said Balan, ye may see he beareth two swords, thereby ye may call him the Knight with the Two Swords. 33 erected 34 was happening 35 boisterous and unseemly 36 heal

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And so departed King Mark unto Camelot to King Arthur, and Balin took the way toward King Rience; and as they rode together they met with Merlin disguised, but they knew him not. Whither ride you? said Merlin. We have little to do, said the two knights, to tell thee37. But what is thy name? said Balin. At this time, said Merlin, I will not tell it thee. It is evil seen38, said the knights, that thou art a true manthat thou wilt not tell thy name. As for that, said Merlin, be it as it be may, I can tell you wherefore ye ride this way, for to meet King Rience; but it will not avail you without ye have my counsel. Ah! said Balin, ye are Merlin; we will be ruled by your counsel. Come on, said Merlin, ye shall have great worship, and look that ye do knightly, for ye shall have great need. As for that, said Balin, dread you not, we will do what we may. CHAPTER IX How Balin and his brother, by the counsel of Merlin, took King Rience and brought him to King Arthur. Then Merlin lodged them in a wood among leaves beside the highway, and took off the bridles of their horses and put them to grass and laid them down to rest them till it was nigh midnight. Then Merlin bade them rise, and make them ready, for the king was nigh them, that was stolen away from his host with a three score horses of his best knights, and twenty of them rode to-fore to warn the Lady de Vance that the king was coming; for that night King Rience should have lain with her. Which is the king? said Balin. Abide, said Merlin, here in a strait way ye shall meet with him; and therewith he showed Balin and his brother where he rode. Anon Balin and his brother met with the king, and smote him down, and wounded him fiercely, and laid him to the ground; and there they slew on the right hand and the left hand, and slew more than forty of his men, and the remnant fled. Then went they again to King Rience and would have slain him had he not yielded him unto their grace. Then said he thus: Knights full of prowess, slay me not, for by my life ye may win, and by my death ye shall win nothing. Then said these two knights, Ye say sooth and truth, and so laid him on a horse-litter. With that Merlin was vanished, and came to King Arthur aforehand39, and told him how his most enemy was taken and discomfited40. By whom? said King Arthur. By two knights, said Merlin, that would please your lordship, and to-morrow ye shall know what knights they are. Anon after came the Knight with the Two Swords and Balan his brother, and brought with them King Rience of North Wales, and there delivered him to the porters, and charged them with him; and so they two returned again in the dawning of the day. King Arthur came then to King Rience, and said, Sir king, ye are welcome: by what adventure come ye hither? Sir, said King Rience, I came hither by an hard adventure. Who won you? said King Arthur. Sir, said the king, the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother, which are two marvellous knights of prowess. I know them not, said Arthur, but much I am beholden to them. Ah, said Merlin, I shall tell you: it is Balin that achieved the sword, and his brother Balan, a good knight, there liveth not a better of prowess and of worthiness, and it shall be the greatest dole of him that ever I knew of knight, for he shall not long endure. Alas, said King Arthur, that is great pity; for I am much beholden unto him, and I have ill deserved it unto him for his kindness.41 Nay, said Merlin, he shall do much more for you, and that shall ye 37 we have no reason to tell you 38 a bad sign 39 before them 40 defeated 41 I am indebted to him and I have done nothing to deserve his kindness 160

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know in haste. But, sir, are ye purveyed42, said Merlin, for to-morn the host of Nero, King Rience's brother, will set on you or43 noon with a great host, and therefore make you ready, for I will depart from you. CHAPTER X How King Arthur had a battle against Nero and King Lot of Orkney, and how King Lot was deceived by Merlin, and how twelve kings were slain. Then King Arthur made ready his host in ten battles and Nero was ready in the field afore the Castle Terrabil with a great host, and he had ten battles, with many more people than Arthur had. Then Nero had the vanguard with the most part of his people, and Merlin came to King Lot of the Isle of Orkney, and held him with a tale of prophecy, till Nero and his people were destroyed. And there Sir Kay the seneschal44 did passingly well, that the days of his life the worship went never from him; and Sir Hervis de Revel did marvellous deeds with King Arthur, and King Arthur slew that day twenty knights and maimed forty. At that time came in the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother Balan, but they two did so marvellously that the king and all the knights marvelled of them, and all they that beheld them said they were sent from heaven as angels, or devils from hell; and King Arthur said himself they were the best knights that ever he saw, for they gave such strokes that all men had wonder of them. In the meanwhile came one to King Lot, and told him while he tarried there Nero was destroyed and slain with all his people. Alas, said King Lot, I am ashamed, for by my default there is many a worshipful man slain, for as we had been together there had been none host under the heaven that had been able for to have matched with us; this faiter45 with his prophecy hath mocked me. All that did Merlin, for he knew well that an46 King Lot had been with his body47 there at the first battle, King Arthur had been slain, and all his people destroyed; and well Merlin knew that one of the kings should be dead that day, and loath was Merlin that any of them both should be slain; but of the twain, he had liefer48 King Lot had been slain than King Arthur. Now what is best to do? said King Lot of Orkney; whether is me better to treat with King Arthur or to fight, for the greater part of our people are slain and destroyed? Sir, said a knight, set on Arthur for they are weary and forfoughten49 and we be fresh. As for me, said King Lot, I would every knight would do his part as I would do mine. And then they advanced banners and smote together and all to-shivered their spears; and Arthur's knights, with the help of the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother Balan put King Lot and his host to the worse. But always King Lot held him in the foremost front, and did marvellous deeds of arms, for all his host was borne up by his hands, for he abode all knights. Alas he might not endure, the which was great pity, that so worthy a knight as he was one should be overmatched, that of late time afore had been a knight of King Arthur's, and wedded the sister of King Arthur; and for King Arthur lay by King Lot's wife, the which was Arthur's sister, and gat on her Mordred, therefore King Lot held against Arthur. So there was a knight that was called the Knight with the Strange Beast, and at that time 42 prepared 43 governor 44 governor 45 fortune-teller 46 if 47 army 48 would rather 49 worn-out with fighting

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his right name was called Pellinore, the which was a good man of prowess, and he smote a mighty stroke at King Lot as he fought with all his enemies, and he failed of his stroke, and smote the horse's neck, that he fell to the ground with King Lot. And therewith anon Pellinore smote him a great stroke through the helm and head unto the brows. And then all the host of Orkney fled for the death of King Lot, and there were slain many mothers' sons. But King Pellinore bare the wite50 of the death of King Lot, wherefore Sir Gawaine revenged the death of his father the tenth year after he was made knight, and slew King Pellinore with his own hands. Also there were slain at that battle twelve kings on the side of King Lot with Nero, and all were buried in the Church of Saint Stephen's in Camelot, and the remnant of knights and of others were buried in a great rock. CHAPTER XI Of the interment of twelve kings, and of the prophecy of Merlin, and how Balin should give the dolorous stroke. So at the interment51 came King Lot's wife Margawse with her four sons, Gawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth. Also there came thither King Uriens, Sir Ewaine's father, and Morgan le Fay his wife that was King Arthur's sister. All these came to the interment. But of all these twelve kings King Arthur let make the tomb of King Lot passing richly, and made his tomb by his own; and then Arthur let make twelve images of latten and copper, and over-gilt it with gold, in the sign of twelve kings, and each one of them held a taper of wax that burnt day and night; and King Arthur was made in sign of a figure standing above them with a sword drawn in his hand, and all the twelve figures had countenance like unto men that were overcome. All this made Merlin by his subtle craft, and there he told the king, When I am dead these tapers shall burn no longer, and soon after the adventures of the Sangreal52 shall come among you and be achieved. Also he told Arthur how Balin the worshipful knight shall give the dolorous stroke, whereof shall fall great vengeance. Oh, where is Balin and Balan and Pellinore? said King Arthur. As for Pellinore, said Merlin, he will meet with you soon; and as for Balin he will not be long from you; but the other brother will depart, ye shall see him no more. By my faith, said Arthur, they are two marvellous knights, and namely Balin passeth of prowess of any knight that ever I found, for much beholden am I unto him; would God he would abide53 with me. Sir, said Merlin, look ye keep well the scabbard of Excalibur, for ye shall lose no blood while ye have the scabbard upon you, though ye have as many wounds upon you as ye may have. So after, for great trust, Arthur betook the scabbard to Morgan le Fay his sister, and she loved another knight better than her husband King Uriens or King Arthur, and she would have had Arthur her brother slain, and therefore she let make another scabbard like it by enchantment, and gave the scabbard Excalibur to her love; and the knight's name was called Accolon, that after had near slain King Arthur. After this Merlin told unto King Arthur of the prophecy that there should be a great battle beside Salisbury, and Mordred his own son should be against him. Also he told him that Basdemegus was his cousin, and germain54 unto King Uriens.

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CHAPTER XII How a sorrowful knight came before Arthur, and how Balin fetched him, and how that knight was slain by a knight invisible. Within a day or two King Arthur was somewhat sick, and he let pitch his pavilion in a meadow, and there he laid him down on a pallet to sleep, but he might have no rest. Right so he heard a great noise of an horse, and therewith the king looked out at the porch of the pavilion, and saw a knight coming even by him, making great dole. Abide, fair sir, said Arthur, and tell me wherefore thou makest this sorrow. Ye may little amend55 me, said the knight, and so passed forth to the castle of Meliot. Anon after there came Balin, and when he saw King Arthur he alighted off his horse, and came to the King on foot, and saluted him. By my head, said Arthur, ye be welcome. Sir, right now came riding this way a knight making great mourn, for what cause I cannot tell; wherefore I would desire of you of your courtesy and of your gentleness to fetch again that knight either by force or else by his good will. I will do more for your lordship than that, said Balin; and so he rode more than a pace, and found the knight with a damosel in a forest, and said, Sir knight, ye must come with me unto King Arthur, for to tell him of your sorrow. That will I not, said the knight, for it will scathe56 me greatly, and do you none avail. Sir, said Balin, I pray you make you ready, for ye must go with me, or else I must fight with you and bring you by force, and that were me loath to do. Will ye be my warrant, said the knight, an57 I go with you? Yea, said Balin, or else I will die therefore. And so he made him ready to go with Balin, and left the damosel still. And as they were even afore King Arthur's pavilion, there came one invisible, and smote this knight that went with Balin throughout the body with a spear. Alas, said the knight, I am slain under your conduct with a knight called Garlon; therefore take my horse that is better than yours, and ride to the damosel, and follow the quest that I was in as she will lead you, and revenge my death when ye may. That shall I do, said Balin, and that I make vow unto knighthood; and so he departed from this knight with great sorrow. So King Arthur let bury this knight richly, and made a mention on his tomb, how there was slain Herlews le Berbeus, and by whom the treachery was done, the knight Garlon. But ever the damosel bare the truncheon of the spear with her that Sir Herlews was slain withal. CHAPTER XIII How Balin and the damosel met with a knight which was in likewise slain, and how the damosel bled for the custom of a castle. So Balin and the damosel rode into a forest, and there met with a knight that had been a-hunting, and that knight asked Balin for what cause he made so great sorrow. Me list not to tell you, said Balin. Now, said the knight, an I were armed as ye be I would fight with you. That should little need, said Balin, I am not afeard to tell you, and told him all the cause how it was. Ah, said the knight, is this all? here I ensure you by the faith of my body never to depart from you while my life lasteth. And so they went to the hostelry and armed them, and so rode forth with Balin. And as they came by an hermitage even by a churchyard, there came the knight Garlon invisible, and smote this knight, Perin de Mountbeliard, through the body 55 aid 56 shame 57 ere

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with a spear. Alas, said the knight, I am slain by this traitor knight that rideth invisible. Alas, said Balin, it is not the first despite58 he hath done me; and there the hermit and Balin buried the knight under a rich stone and a tomb royal. And on the morn they found letters of gold written, how Sir Gawaine shall revenge his father's death, King Lot, on the King Pellinore. Anon after this Balin and the damosel rode till they came to a castle, and there Balin alighted, and he and the damosel went to go into the castle, and anon as Balin came within the castle's gate the portcullis fell down at his back, and there fell many men about the damosel, and would have slain her. When Balin saw that, he was sore aggrieved, for he might not help the damosel. Then he went up into the tower, and leapt over walls into the ditch, and hurt him not; and anon he pulled out his sword and would have foughten with them. And they all said nay, they would not fight with him, for they did nothing but the old custom of the castle; and told him how their lady was sick, and had lain many years, and she might not be whole59 but if she had a dish of silver full of blood of a clean maid and a king's daughter; and therefore the custom of this castle is, there shall no damosel pass this way but she shall bleed of her blood in a silver dish full. Well, said Balin, she shall bleed as much as she may bleed, but I will not lose the life of her whiles my life lasteth. And so Balin made her to bleed by her good will, but her blood helped not the lady. And so he and she rested there all night, and had there right good cheer, and on the morn they passed on their ways. And as it telleth after in theSangreal, that Sir Percivale's sister helped that lady with her blood, whereof she was dead. CHAPTER XIV How Balin met with that knight named Garlon at a feast, and there he slew him, to have his blood to heal therewith the son of his host. Then they rode three or four days and never met with adventure, and by hap they were lodged with a gentle man that was a rich man and well at ease. And as they sat at their supper Balin overheard one complain grievously by him in a chair. What is this noise? said Balin. Forsooth, said his host, I will tell you. I was but late at a jousting, and there I jousted with a knight that is brother unto King Pellam, and twice smote I him down, and then he promised to quit me on my best friend; and so he wounded my son, that cannot be whole till I have of that knight's blood, and he rideth alway invisible; but I know not his name. Ah! said Balin, I know that knight, his name is Garlon, he hath slain two knights of mine in the same manner, therefore I had liefer meet with that knight than all the gold in this realm, for the despite he hath done me. Well, said his host, I shall tell you, King Pellam of Listeneise hath made do cry60 in all this country a great feast that shall be within these twenty days, and no knight may come there but if he bring his wife with him, or his paramour; and that knight, your enemy and mine, ye shall see that day. Then I behote61 you, said Balin, part of his blood to heal your son withal. We will be forward to-morn, said his host. So on the morn they rode all three toward Pellam, and they had fifteen days' journey or they came thither; and that same day began the great feast. And so they alighted and stabled their horses, and went into the castle; but Balin's host might not be let in because he had no lady. Then Balin was well received and brought unto a chamber and unarmed him; and there were brought him robes to his pleasure, and would have had Balin leave his sword behind him. Nay, said Balin, that do I not, for it is the custom of my country 58 injury 59 healthy 60 announcement 61 promise 164

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a knight always to keep his weapon with him, and that custom will I keep, or else I will depart as I came. Then they gave him leave to wear his sword, and so he went unto the castle, and was set among knights of worship, and his lady afore him. Soon Balin asked a knight, Is there not a knight in this court whose name is Garlon? Yonder he goeth, said a knight, he with the black face; he is the marvellest knight that is now living, for he destroyeth many good knights, for he goeth invisible. Ah well, said Balin, is that he? Then Balin advised him long: If I slay him here I shall not escape, and if I leave him now, peradventure I shall never meet with him again at such a steven,6262 and much harm he will do an6363 he live. Therewith this Garlon espied that this Balin beheld him, and then he came and smote Balin on the face with the back of his hand, and said, Knight, why beholdest me so? for shame therefore, eat thy meat and do that thou came for. Thou sayest sooth, said Balin, this is not the first despite that thou hast done me, and therefore I will do what I came for, and rose up fiercely and clave his head to the shoulders. Give me the truncheon,6464 said Balin to his lady, wherewith he slew your knight. Anon she gave it him, for alway she bare the truncheon with her. And therewith Balin smote him through the body, and said openly, With that truncheon thou hast slain a good knight, and now it sticketh in thy body. And then Balin called unto him his host, saying, Now may ye fetch blood enough to heal your son withal. CHAPTER XV How Balin fought with King Pellam, and how his sword brake, and how he gat a spear wherewith he smote the dolorous stroke. Anon all the knights arose from the table for to set on Balin, and King Pellam himself arose up fiercely, and said, Knight, hast thou slain my brother? thou shalt die therefore or thou depart. Well, said Balin, do it yourself. Yes, said King Pellam, there shall no man have ado with thee but myself, for the love of my brother. Then King Pellam caught in his hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at Balin; but Balin put the sword betwixt his head and the stroke, and therewith his sword burst in sunder. And when Balin was weaponless he ran into a chamber for to seek some weapon, and so from chamber to chamber, and no weapon he could find, and always King Pellam after him. And at the last he entered into a chamber that was marvellously well dight6565 and richly, and a bed arrayed with cloth of gold, the richest that might be thought, and one lying therein, and thereby stood a table of clean gold with four pillars of silver that bare up the table, and upon the table stood a marvellous spear strangely wrought. And when Balin saw that spear, he gat it in his hand and turned him to King Pellam, and smote him passingly sore with that spear, that King Pellam fell down in a swoon,6666 and therewith the castle roof and walls brake and fell to the earth, and Balin fell down so that he might not stir foot nor hand. And so the most part of the castle, that was fallen down through that dolorous stroke, lay upon Pellam and Balin three days.

62 steven 63 if 64 the blade of a lance or a shaft 65 furnished 66 unconscious

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CHAPTER XVI How Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight that would have slain himself for love. Then Merlin came thither and took up Balin, and gat67 him a good horse, for his was dead, and bade him ride out of that country. I would have my damosel, said Balin. Lo, said Merlin, where she lieth dead. And King Pellam lay so, many years sore wounded, and might never be whole till Galahad the haut prince healed him in the quest of the Sangreal, for in that place was part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, that Joseph of Arimathea brought into this land, and there himself lay in that rich bed. And that was the same spear that Longius smote our Lord to the heart; and King Pellam was nigh of Joseph's kin, and that was the most worshipful man that lived in those days, and great pity it was of his hurt, for through that stroke, turned to great dole, tray and tene.68 Then departed Balin from Merlin, and said, In this world we meet never no more. So he rode forth through the fair countries and cities, and found the people dead, slain on every side. And all that were alive cried, O Balin, thou hast caused great damage in these countries; for the dolorous stroke thou gavest unto King Pellam three countries are destroyed, and doubt not but the vengeance will fall on thee at the last. When Balin was past those countries he was passing fain.69 So he rode eight days or70 he met with adventure. And at the last he came into a fair forest in a valley, and was ware71 of a tower, and there beside he saw a great horse of war, tied to a tree, and there beside sat a fair knight on the ground and made great mourning, and he was a likely man, and a well made. Balin said, God save you, why be ye so heavy? tell me and I will amend it, an I may, to my power. Sir knight, said he again, thou dost me great grief, for I was in merry thoughts, and now thou puttest me to more pain. Balin went a little from him, and looked on his horse; then heard Balin him say thus: Ah, fair lady, why have ye broken my promise, for thou promisest me to meet me here by noon, and I may curse thee that ever ye gave me this sword, for with this sword I slay myself, and pulled it out. And therewith Balin stert72 unto him and took him by the hand. Let go my hand, said the knight, or else I shall slay thee. That shall not need, said Balin, for I shall promise you my help to get you your lady, an ye will tell me where she is. What is your name? said the knight. My name is Balin le Savage. Ah, sir, I know you well enough, ye are the Knight with the Two Swords, and the man of most prowess of your hands living. What is your name? said Balin. My name is Garnish of the Mount, a poor man's son, but by my prowess and hardiness a duke hath made me knight, and gave me lands; his name is Duke Hermel, and his daughter is she that I love, and she me as I deemed. How far is she hence? said Balin. But six mile, said the knight. Now ride we hence, said these two knights. So they rode more than a pace, till that they came to a fair castle well walled and ditched. I will into the castle, said Balin, and look if she be there. So he went in and searched from chamber to chamber, and found her bed, but she was not there. Then Balin looked into a fair little garden, and under a laurel tree he saw her lie upon a quilt of green samite73 and a knight in her arms, fast halsing74 either other, and under their heads grass and herbs. When Balin saw her lie so with the foulest knight that ever hesaw, and she a fair lady, then Balin went through all the chambers again, and told the 67 gave 68 suffering and sorrow 69 eager 70 ere 71 aware, wary 72 ran 73 silk 74 embracing 166

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knight how he found her as she had slept fast, and so brought him in the place there she lay fast sleeping. CHAPTER XVII How that knight slew his love and a knight lying by her, and after, how he slew himself with his own sword, and how Balin rode toward a castle where he lost his life. And when Garnish beheld her so lying, for pure sorrow his mouth and nose burst out a-bleeding, and with his sword he smote off both their heads, and then he made sorrow out of measure, and said, O Balin, much sorrow hast thou brought unto me, for hadst thou not shewed me that sight I should have passed my sorrow.75 Forsooth, said Balin, I did it to this intent that it should better76 thy courage, and that ye might see and know her falsehood, and to cause you to leave love of such a lady; God knoweth I did none other but as I would ye did to me. Alas, said Garnish, now is my sorrow double that I may not endure, now have I slain that I most loved in all my life; and therewith suddenly he rove himself on his own sword unto the hilts. When Balin saw that, he dressed him thenceward77, lest folk would say he had slain them; and so he rode forth, and within three days he came by a cross, and thereon were letters of gold written, that said, It is not for no knight alone to ride toward this castle. Then saw he an old hoar gentleman coming toward him, that said, Balin le Savage, thou passest thy bounds to come this way, therefore turn again and it will avail thee. And he vanished away anon; and so he heard an horn blow as it had been the death of a beast. That blast, said Balin, is blown for me, for I am the prize and yet am I not dead. Anon withal he saw an hundred ladies and many knights, that welcomed him with fair semblant,78 and made him passing good cheer unto his sight, and led him into the castle, and there was dancing and minstrelsy and all manner of joy. Then the chief lady of the castle said, Knight with the Two Swords, ye must have ado and joust with a knight hereby that keepeth an island, for there may no man pass this way but he must joust or he pass. That is an unhappy custom, said Balin, that a knight may not pass this way but if he joust. Ye shall not have ado but with one knight, said the lady. Well, said Balin, since I shall thereto I am ready, but travelling men are oft weary and their horses too, but though my horse be weary my heart is not weary, I would be fain there my death should be.79 Sir, said a knight to Balin, methinketh your shield is not good, I will lend you a bigger. Thereof I pray you. And so he took the shield that was unknown and left his own, and so rode unto the island, and put him and his horse in a great boat; and when he came on the other side he met with a damosel, and she said, O knight Balin, why have ye left your own shield? alas ye have put yourself in great danger, for by your shield ye should have been known; it is great pity of you as ever was of knight, for of thy prowess and hardiness thou hast no fellow living. Me repenteth, said Balin, that ever I came within this country, but I may not turn now again for shame, and what adventure shall fall to me, be it life or death, I will take the adventure that shall come to me. And then he looked on his armour, and understood he was well armed, and therewith blessed him and mounted upon his horse.

75 I should have been spared the sorrow 76 increase 77 went away from this place 78 courteous gestures 79 even if I should die for it

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CHAPTER XVIII How Balin met with his brother Balan, and how each of them slew other unknown, till they were wounded to death. Then afore him he saw come riding out of a castle a knight, and his horse trapped all red, and himself in the same colour. When this knight in the red beheld Balin, him thought it should be his brother Balin by cause of his two swords, but by cause he knew not his shield he deemed it was not he. And so they aventryd80 their spears and came marvellously fast together, and they smote each other in the shields, but their spears and their course were so big that it bare down horse and man, that they lay both in a swoon. But Balin was bruised sore with the fall of his horse, for he was weary of travel. And Balan was the first that rose on foot and drew his sword, and went toward Balin, and he arose and went against him; but Balan smote Balin first, and he put up his shield and smote him through the shield and tamed his helm. Then Balin smote him again with that unhappy sword, and well-nigh had felled his brother Balan, and so they fought there together till their breaths failed. Then Balin looked up to the castle and saw the towers stand full of ladies. So they went unto battle again, and wounded everych other dolefully, and then they breathed ofttimes, and so went unto battle that all the place there as they fought was blood red. And at that time there was none of them both but they had either smitten other seven great wounds, so that the least of them might have been the death of the mightiest giant in this world. Then they went to battle again so marvellously that doubt it was to hear of that battle for the great blood-shedding, and their hauberks unnailed that naked they were on every side. At last Balan the younger brother withdrew him a little and laid him down. Then said Balin le Savage, What knight art thou? for or now I found never no knight that matched me. My name is, said he, Balan, brother unto the good knight, Balin. Alas, said Balin, that ever I should see this day, and therewith he fell backward in a swoon. Then Balan yede81 on all four feet and hands, and put off the helm off his brother, and might not know him by the visage it was so ful hewn and bled; but when he awoke he said, O Balan, my brother, thou hast slain me and I thee, wherefore all the wide world shall speak of us both. Alas, said Balan, that ever I saw this day, that through mishap I might not know you, for I espied well your two swords, but by cause ye had another shield I deemed ye had been another knight. Alas, said Balin, all that made an unhappy knight in the castle, for he caused me to leave my own shield to our both's destruction, and if I might live I would destroy that castle for ill customs. That were well done, said Balan, for I had never grace to depart from them since that I came hither, for here it happed me to slay a knight that kept this island, and since might I never depart, and no more should ye, brother, an ye might have slain me as ye have, and escaped yourself with the life. Right so came the lady of the tower with four knights and six ladies and six yeomen unto them, and there she heard how they made their moan either to other, and said, We came both out of one womb, that is to say one mother's belly, and so shall we lie both in one pit. So Balan prayed the lady of her gentleness, for his true service, that she would bury them both in that same place there the battle was done. And she granted them, with weeping, it should be done richly in the best manner. Now, will ye send for a priest, that 80 set 81 crept 168

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we may receive our sacrament, and receive the blessed body of our Lord Jesus Christ? Yea, said the lady, it shall be done; and so she sent for a priest and gave them their rights. Now, said Balin, when we are buried in one tomb, and the mention made over us how two brethren slew each other, there will never good knight, nor good man, see our tomb but they will pray for our souls. And so all the ladies and gentlewomen wept for pity. Then anon Balan died, but Balin died not till the midnight after, and so were they buried both, and the lady let make a mention of Balan how he was there slain by his brother's hands, but she knew not Balin's name. CHAPTER XIX How Merlin buried them both in one tomb, and of Balin's sword. In the morn came Merlin and let write Balin's name on the tomb with letters of gold, that Here lieth Balin le Savage that was the Knight with the Two Swords, and he that smote the Dolorous Stroke. Also Merlin let make there a bed, that there should never man lie therein but he went out of his wit, yet Launcelot de Lake fordid82 that bed through his noblesse. And anon after Balin was dead, Merlin took his sword, and took off the pommel and set on another pommel. So Merlin bade a knight that stood afore him handle that sword, and he assayed, and he might not handle it. Then Merlin laughed. Why laugh ye? said the knight. This is the cause, said Merlin: there shall never man handle this sword but the best knight of the world, and that shall be Sir Launcelot or else Galahad his son, and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that in the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawaine. All this he let write in the pommel of the sword. Then Merlin let make a bridge of iron and of steel into that island, and it was but half a foot broad, and there shall never man pass that bridge, nor have hardiness to go over, but if he were a passing good man and a good knight without treachery or villainy. Also the scabbard of Balin's sword Merlin left it on this side the island, that Galahad should find it. Also Merlin let make by his subtilty83 that Balin's sword was put in a marble stone standing upright as great as a mill stone, and the stone hoved always above the water and did many years, and so by adventure it swam down the stream to the City of Camelot, that is in English Winchester. And that same day Galahad the haut prince came with King Arthur, and so Galahad brought with him the scabbard and achieved the sword that was there in the marble stone hoving84 upon the water. And on Whitsunday he achieved the sword as it is rehearsed85 in the book of Sangreal. Soon after this was done Merlin came to King Arthur and told him of the dolorous stroke that Balin gave to King Pellam, and how Balin and Balan fought together the marvellest battle that ever was heard of, and how they were buried both in one tomb. Alas, said King Arthur, this is the greatest pity that ever I heard tell of two knights, for in the world I know not such two knights. Thus endeth the tale of Balin and of Balan, two brethren born in Northumberland, good knights.

82 destroyed 83 magic 84 rising 85 told

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BIBLIOGRAPHY & WEBSITES BEOWULF: Context: Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Godden, Malcolm et al. (ed.). The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Pulsano, Philip et al. (eds.). A Companion to Anglo-Saxon Literature. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2001. Robert E. Bjork et al. (eds.). A Beowulf Handbook, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1997. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/anglo_saxons/ http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00kpv23 Text: Elaine Treharne, Duncan Wu (eds.). Old English and Middle English Poetry. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2002. Heather O'Donoghue (ed.). Kevin Crossley-Holland (trans.). Beowulf. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Seamus Heaney. Beowulf: A New Verse Translation. London: W.W. Norton & Company, 2001. http://ebeowulf.uky.edu/studyingbeowulfs/overview http://www.heorot.dk/ http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/onlineex/englit/beowulf/index.html http://etext.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/AnoBeow.html http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=beowulf Afterlife: http://www.library.rochester.edu/robbins/beowulfiana Julian Glover's hybrid presentation of the poem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IR464WBmA2s Benjamin Bagby's presentation of the poem in the original Old English: http://www.bagbybeowulf.com/ Robert Zemeckis's film adaptation: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0442933/

THE WANDERER: Context Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Godden, Malcolm et al. (ed.). The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Pulsano, Philip et al. (eds.). A Companion to Anglo-Saxon Literature. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2001. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Text Pasternack, Carol Braun. The Textuality of Old English Poetry. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. A reading of the poem at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zolqiMxoDk Glossary at: http://research.uvu.edu/mcdonald/wanderweb/glossary.htm Afterlife In J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, in Ch. 6 of The Two Towers, Aragorn sings a song of Rohan (itself a vesion of Anglo-Saxon England), beginning "Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?" Dobbie, E.V.K. The Exeter Book. Columbia University Press, 1936. 170

Bibliography

Conner, Patrick W. Anglo-Saxon Exeter: a tenth-century cultural history. Studies in Anglo-Saxon history, volume 4. Boydell Press, 1993. Fulk, Robert D. A History of Old English Meter. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992. Leslie, R.F. The Wanderer. Manchester University Press, 1966. Muir, Bernard. Exeter anthology of Old English poetry; an edition of Exeter Dean and Chapter MS 3501. Exeter University Press, 1994. Page, R. Life in Anglo-Saxon England. Putnam, 1970.

THE DREAM OF THE ROOD: Context Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Godden, Malcolm et al. (ed.). The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Pulsano, Philip et al. (eds.). A Companion to Anglo-Saxon Literature. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2001. Swanton, Michael James (ed.). The Dream of the Rood. Manchester: Manchester University Press. 1970. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Text An excellent online source for studying the poem featuring a hypertext version of the original with Modern English translation, glossary and annotations can be found at: http://www.dreamofrood.co.uk/ Another hypertext edition of the poem is freely available at: http://www.english.ox.ac.uk/oecoursepack/rood/index.html Afterlife The poem read in Old English: http://vimeo.com/13911933 More information about the Ruthwell Cross: http://visionarycross.org/

SIR ORFEO: Context Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Saunders, Corinne. A Companion to Medieval Poetry. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Text Manuscript: National Library of Scotland MS Advocates 19.2.1, fols. 299a (stub)-303ra; also known as the Auchinleck MS (A). British Library MS Harley 3810, fols. 1a-10a (H). Bodleian Library MS Ashmole 61, fols. 151a-156a (B). Facsimile Edition: The Auchinleck Manuscript. National Library of Scotland. Advocates MS. 19.2.1. With introduction by Derek Pearsall and I. C. Cunningham. London: Scolar Press, in association with The National Library of Scotland, 1979. Editions: Bliss, A. J., ed. Sir Orfeo. London: Oxford University Press, 1954. 2nd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966. [Prints all three MSS. Reconstructs a thirty-eight line prologue for A out of the prologue to Lay le Freine and H and B.] http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot Collections: Burrow, John A., ed. English Verse 1300-1500. Longman Annotated Anthologies of English Verse, Vol. I. London:

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Longman, 1977,. 4-27. Dunn, Charles W., and Edward T. Byrnes, eds. Middle English Literature. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1973, 216-30 Ford, Boris, ed. The Age of Chaucer The Pelican Guide to English Literature I. Baltimore: Penguin, 1955. Pp. 271-88. Schmidt, A. V. C., and Nicolas Jacobs, eds. Medieval English Romances. New York: Holmes & Meier, 1980, Vol. I. Pp. 151-71. [A text with twenty-four line prologue.] Sisam, Celia and Kenneth, eds. The Oxford Book of Medieval English Verse. London: Oxford University Press, 1970. Pp. 76-98. [A text with twenty-four line prologue.] Sisam, Kenneth, ed. Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975, 13-31. Criticism: Friedman, John B. Orpheus in the Middle Ages. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1970. Grimaldi, Patrizia. "Sir Orfeo as Celtic Folk-Hero, Christian Pilgrim, and Medieval King." In Allegory, Myth, and Symbol, ed. Morton W. Bloomfield, Harvard English Studies 9. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1981, 147-61. Gros Louis, Kenneth R. R. "The Significance of Sir Orfeo's Self-Exile." Review of English Studies n.s.18 (1967), 245-52. Hynes-Berry, Mary. "Cohesion in King Horn and Sir Orfeo." Speculum 50 (1975), 652-70. Lerer, Seth. "Artifice and Artistry in Sir Orfeo." Speculum 60 (1985), 92-109. Liuzza, Roy Michael. "Sir Orfeo: Sources, Traditions, and the Poetics of Performance." Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 21 (1991), 269-84. Afterlife After J.R.R. Tolkien's death, his son Christopher Tolkien discovered an unfinished translation of Sir Orfeo and published it together with his father’s translations of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Pearl. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBlbaIbyCgI

THE THRUSH AND THE NIGHTINGALE : Context Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia, Pleiad, 1998. Saunders, Corinne. A Companion to Medieval Poetry. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Text An excellent online edition with introduction, complete translation of the poem and footnotes can be found at: http://www.southampton.ac.uk/~wpwt/digby86/thrushint.htm The Auchinleck version of the poem with introduction, glosses and footnotes is freely available at: http://www.csun.edu/~sk36711/WWW/engl443/thrush.pdf

MEDIEVAL LYRICS : Cuckoo Song Text at: http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/medlyric/cuckou.php Rota at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVdA9t-AOfU Alisoun Text at: http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/medlyric/alisoun.php I Sing of a Maiden Text at: http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/medlyric/maiden.php Audio at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54VCXLnaXV4 Of a Rose Synge We Text at: http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/medlyric/ofarose.php 172

Bibliography

Context Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley- Blackwell, 2009. Lambdin, Laura C., Robert T. Lambdin. A Companion to Old and Middle English Literature. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2002. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia, Pleiad, 1998. Saunders, Corinne. A Companion to Medieval Poetry. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.

SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT: Context Brewer, Elizabeth. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: Sources and Analogues.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973. Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00kvbny Text Transcripts: http://quod.lib.umich.edu/c/cme/Gawain/1:1?rgn=div1;view=fulltext http://www.yorku.ca/inpar/sggk_replica.pdf Modern translations: http://alliteration.net/Pearl.htm http://www.yorku.ca/inpar/sggk_neilson.pdf Introduction and passages from the original: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nAd6fffVvs&feature=related Afterlife Sword of the Valiant (1984), a film adaptation, starring Miles O'Keeffe as Gawain and Sean Connery as the Green Knight: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084750/ The animated Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (2002): http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0846790/ Lynne Plowman's opera Gwyneth and the Green Knight (2002).

PIERS PLOWMAN: Context Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Wallace, David et al. (eds.). The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Text William Langland, The Book Concerning Piers Plowman, tr. Donald and Rachel Attwater, ed.Rachel Attwater (Everyman, 1957) http://www.ancientgroove.co.uk/books/PiersPlowman.pdf Prologue to Piers Plowman A-Text: William Langland in Middle English http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-jHnU5FaCc Criticism Alford, J. A Companion to Piers Plowman. London: University of California Press, 1988. Hussey, S.S. (ed.) Piers Plowman. Critical Approaches. Methuen, 1969. Simpson, J. Piers Plowman. An Introduction. University of Exeter Press, 2007.

Bibliography

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THE GENERAL PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES: Context Brewer, Elizabeth. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: Sources and Analogues.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973. Brown, Peter (ed.). A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Boitani, Piero, and Jill Mann, eds. The Cambridge Companion to Chaucer. Series Cambridge Companions to Literature. Cambridge University Press. Cambridge, 2003. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Terry Jones’ TV documentary series Medieval Lives http//www.imdb.com/title/tt0398514/ Text Excellent online text, image and audio resources can be found at http//www.courses.fas.harvard.edu/~chaucer/cantales.html http//quod.lib.umich.edu/c/cme/index.html http//machias.edu/faculty/necastro/chaucer/ct/ http//www.luminarium.org/medlit/canterbury.htm http//www.bl.uk/treasures/caxton/homepage.html http//www.ull.ac.uk/exhibitions/chaucer/index.php Afterlife A very rich study of Chaucer’s reception and literary appropriation can be found in Ellis, Steve. Chaucer An Oxford Guide. Oxford Guides. Oxford, 2005. 2012 full-scale re-enactment of The Canterbury Tales http//www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/may/04/chaucer-canterbury-tales-2012-multimedia Terry Jones’s Chaucer and the Canterbury Tales. Documentary Film (2009) http//www.imdb.com/title/tt1795571/ BBC’s Canterbury Tales. TV Series (2003) http//www.imdb.com/title/tt0353045/ Powel and Pressburger’s A Canterbury Tale. Feature Film (1944) http//www.imdb.com/title/tt0036695/ Pasolini’s The Canterbury Tales. Feature Film (1972) http//www.imdb.com/title/tt0067647/ Helgeland’s The Knight’s Tale. Feature Film (2001) http//www.imdb.com/title/tt0183790/

SECUNDA PASTORUM: Context Beadle, Richard. The Cambridge Companion to Medieval English Theatre. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Brown, Peter, ed. The Blackwell Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture, c.1350-1500. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2007. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Text http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/sbook.asp http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19481/19481-h/19481-h.htm http://www.hsaugsburg.de/~harsch/anglica/Chronology/15thC/WakefieldMaster/wak_shep.html Afterlife An amateur production of Secunda Pastorum can be seen at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNYssOXybz4 The production of mystery plays today has turned into a regular cultural event: http://www.yorkmysteryplays-2012.com/

174

Bibliography

EVERYMAN: Text Quincy Adams, J. Chief Pre-Shakespearean Dramas. London, George G.Harpar, s.a. http://socrates.acadiau.ca/courses/engl/rcunningham/1413-F09/Everyman.html http://archive.org/stream/everymanwithothe00rhys/everymanwithothe00rhys_djvu.txt A reading of the play: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUr-kxiRc_E Criticism Beadle, R. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Medieval English Theatre. Cambridge University Press, 2003. Potter, R. A. The English Morality Play: Origins, History, and Influence of a Dramatic Tradition. London: Routledge, 1975. Richardson, Christine, J. Johnston. Medieval Drama. Macmillan, 1991. Afterlife The Austrian playwright Hugo von Hofmannsthal used the play as a source for his Jedermann, performed annually at the Salzburg Festival. Jean Sibelius wrote music for it.The play was filmed in 1961 by Gottfried Reinhardt. In 1979 Frederick Franck published a modern version, Everyone, recognisably influenced by Buddhist ideas. (Wildwood House, 1979) A video version of Everyman was made in 2002 by John Farrell, which updated the setting, with Death as a modern businessman and Goods played by a personal computer. A performance at Portland Community College, Performing Arts Center in Spring 2012 can be seen at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkM8v0m3URg&feature=related

LE MORTE DARTHUR, BOOK II: Context Archibald, Elizabeth and Ad Putter, eds. The Cambridge Companion to the Arthurian Legend. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Lupack, Alan. The Oxford Guide to Arthurian Literature and Legend. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Mincoff, Marco. A History of English Literature. Sofia: Pleiad, 1998. Шурбанов, Александър. Безсмъртието на Артур в „Поетика на английския ренесанс“. София: УИ „Св. Климент Охридски“, 2004. Text The Camelot Project at the University of Rochester provides free access to scholarly electronic versions of virtually every text related to the Arthurian legend: http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/cphome.stm http://quod.lib.umich.edu/c/cme/malorywks2 http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/Mal1Mor.html http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12753 Sample pages of the Winchester Manuscript can be seen at: http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/onlineex/englit/malory/ http://www.bl.uk/treasures/malory/homepage.html Afterlife http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/anglo_saxons/arthur_01.shtml http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00tg2q2 Film productions based on Malory’s text include: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0045966/ http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082348/ http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0113071/ http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0349683/ http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071853/

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