{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/arthur/art132.htm","path":"neu/arthur/art132.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/arthur/art132.htm","text":"Sacred Texts\u00a0\n Legends/Sagas\u00a0\n England\u00a0\n Index\u00a0\n Previous\u00a0\n Next\u00a0\n \n \n An Arthurian Miscellany\n THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE\n from \n BISHOP THOMAS PERCY'S RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY\n \n \n PART THE FIRST \n King Arthur lives in merry Carleile,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And seemely is to see;\n And there with him queene Guenever,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That bride soe bright of blee.\n \n And there with him queene Guenever,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That bride so bright in bowre:\n And all his barons about him stoode,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That were both stiffe and stowre.\n \n The king a royale Christmasse kept,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With mirth and princelye cheare;\n To him repaired many a knighte,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That came both farre and neare.\n \n And when they were to dinner sette,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And cups went freely round;\n Before them came a faire dams\u00e8lle,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And knelt upon the ground.\n \n A boone, a boone, O kinge Arth\u00f9re,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I beg a boone of thee;\n Avenge me of a carlish knighte,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Who hath shent my love and me.\n \n At Tearne-Wadling his castle stands,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Near to that lake so fair,\n And proudlye rise the battlements,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And streamers deck the air.\n \n Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0May pass that castle-walle:\n But from that foule discurteous knighte,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Mishappe will them befalle.\n \n Hee's twyce the size of common men,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge,\n And on his backe he bears a clubbe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That is both thicke and longe.\n \n This grimme bar\u00f2ne 'twas our harde happe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But yester morne to see;\n When to his bowre he bare my love,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sore misused mee.\n \n And when I told him, king Arth\u00f9re\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As lyttle shold him spare;\n Goe tell, sayd hee, that cuckold kinge,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To meete mee if he dare.\n \n Upp then sterted king Arth\u00f9re,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sware by hille and dale,\n He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme bar\u00f2ne,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Till he had made him quail.\n \n Goe fetch my sword Excalibar:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Goe saddle mee my steede;\n Nowe, by my faye, that grimme bar\u00f2ne\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Shall rue this ruthfulle deede.\n \n And when he came to Tearne Wadlinge\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Benethe the castle walle:\n \"Come forth; come forth; thou proude bar\u00f2ne,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Or yielde thyself my thralle.\"\n \n On magicke grounde that castle stoode,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And fenc'd with many a spelle:\n Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But straite his courage felle.\n \n Forth then rush'd that carlish knight,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0King Arthur felte the charme:\n His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Downe sunke his feeble arme.\n \n Nowe yield thee, yield thee, kinge Arth\u00f9re,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Now yield thee, unto mee:\n Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Noe better termes maye bee,\n \n Unless thou sweare upon the rood,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And promise on thy faye,\n Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Upon the new-yeare's daye;\n \n And bringe me worde what thing it is\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0All women moste desyre;\n This is thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ile have noe other hyre.\n \n King Arthur then helde up his hande,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sware upon his faye,\n Then tooke his leave of the grimme barone\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And faste hee rode awaye.\n \n And he rode east, and he rode west,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And did of all inquyre,\n What thing it is all women crave,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And what they most desyre.\n \n Some told him riches, pompe, or state;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Some rayment fine and brighte;\n Some told him mirthe; some flatterye;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And some a jollye knighte.\n \n In letters all king Arthur wrote,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And seal'd them with his ringe:\n But still his minde was helde in doubte,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Each tolde a different thinge.\n \n As ruthfulle he rode over a more,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He saw a ladye sette\n Betweene an oke, and a greene holl\u00e9ye,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0All clad in red scarlette.\n \n Her nose was crookt and turnd outw\u00e0rde,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Her chin stoode all awrye;\n And where as sholde have been her mouthe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lo! there was set her eye:\n \n Her haires, like serpents, clung aboute\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Her cheekes of deadlye hewe:\n A worse-form'd ladye than she was,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0No man mote ever viewe.\n \n To hail the king in seemelye sorte\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0This ladye was fulle faine;\n But king Arth\u00f9re all sore amaz'd,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0No aunswere made againe.\n \n What wight art thou, the ladye sayd,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That wilt not speake to mee;\n Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Though I be foule to see.\n \n If thou wilt ease my paine, he sayd,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And helpe me in my neede;\n Ask what thou wilt, thou grimme lady\u00e8\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And it shall bee thy meede.\n \n O sweare mee this upon the roode,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And promise on thy faye;\n And here the secrette I will telle,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That shall thy ransome paye.\n \n King Arthur promis'd on his faye,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sware upon the roode;\n The secrette then the ladye told,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As lightlye well shee cou'de.\n \n Now this shall be my paye, sir king,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And this my guerdon bee,\n That some yong fair and courtlye knight,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Thou bringe to marrye mee.\n \n Fast then pricked king Arth\u00f9re\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ore hille, and dale, and downe:\n And soone he founde the barone's bowre:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And soone the grimme baro\u00f9ne.\n \n He bare his clubbe upon his backe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hee stoode bothe stiffe and stronge;\n And, when he had the letters reade,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Awaye the lettres flunge.\n \n Nowe yielde thee, Arthur, and thy lands,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0All forfeit unto mee;\n For this is not thy paye, sir king,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Nor may thy ransome bee.\n \n Yet hold thy hand, thou proud bar\u00f2ne,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I praye thee hold thy hand;\n And give mee leave to speake once more\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In reskewe of my land.\n \n This morne, as I came over a more,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I saw a ladye sette\n Betwene an oke, and a greene holl\u00e8ye,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0All clad in red scarl\u00e8tte.\n \n Shee sayes, all women will have their wille,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0This is their chief desyre;\n Now yield, as thou art a barone true,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That I have payd mine hyre.\n \n An earlye vengeaunce light on her!\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The carlish baron swore:\n Shee was my sister tolde thee this,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And shee's a mishapen whore.\n \n But here I will make mine avowe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To do her as ill a turne:\n For an ever I may that foule theefe gette,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In a fyre I will her burne.\n \n \n PART THE SECONDE \n \n Homewarde pricked king Arth\u00f9re,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And a wearye man was hee;\n And soon he mette queene Guenever,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That bride so bright of blee.\n \n What newes! what newes! thou noble king,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped?\n Where hast thou hung the carlish knighte?\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And where bestow'd his head?\n \n The carlish knight is safe for mee,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And free fro mortal harme:\n On magicke grounde his castle stands,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And fenc'd with many a charme.\n \n To bowe to him I was full faine,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And yielde mee to his hand:\n And but for a lothly ladye, there\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I sholde have lost my land.\n \n And nowe this fills my hearte with woe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sorrowe of my life;\n I swore a yonge and courtlye knight,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Sholde marry her to his wife.\n \n Then bespake him sir Gaw\u00e0ine,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That was ever a gentle knighte:\n That lothly ladye I will wed;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Therefore be merrye and lighte.\n \n Nowe naye, nowe naye, good sir Gaw\u00e0ine;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0My sister's sonne yee bee;\n This lothlye ladye's all too grimme,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And all too foule for yee.\n \n Her nose is crookt and turn'd outw\u00e0rde;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Her chin stands all awrye;\n A worse form'd ladye than shee is\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Was never seen with eye.\n \n What though her chin stand all awrye,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And shee be foule to see:\n I'll marry her, unkle, for thy sake,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And I'll thy ransome bee.\n \n Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gaw\u00e0ine;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And a blessing thee betyde!\n To-morrow wee'll have knights and squires,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And wee'll goe fetch thy bride.\n \n And wee'll have hawkes and wee'll have houndes,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To cover our intent;\n And wee'll away to the greene for\u00e8st,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As wee a hunting went.\n \n Sir Lancelot, sir Stephen bolde,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They rode with them that daye;\n And foremoste of the companye\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0There rode the stewarde Kaye:\n \n Soe did sir Banier and sir Bore,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And eke sir Garratte keene;\n Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To the forest freshe and greene.\n \n And when they came to the greene forr\u00e8st,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Beneathe a faire holley tree\n There sate that ladye in red scarl\u00e8tte\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That unseemelye was to see.\n \n Sir Kay beheld that lady's face,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And looked upon her sweere;\n Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Of his kisse he stands in feare.\n \n Sir Kay beheld that ladye againe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And looked upon her snout;\n Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Of his kisse he stands in doubt.\n \n Peace, brother Kay, sayde sir Gaw\u00e0ine,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And amend thee of thy life:\n For there is a knight amongst us all,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Must marry her to his wife.\n \n What marry this foule queane, quoth Kay,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I' the devil's name anone;\n Gett mee a wife wherever I maye,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In sooth shee shall be none.\n \n Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And some took up their houndes;\n And sayd they wolde not marry her,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0For cities, nor for townes.\n \n Then bespake him king Arth\u00f9re,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And sware there by this daye;\n For a little foule sighte and mislik\u00ecnge,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Yee shall not say her naye.\n \n Peace, lordinges, peace; sir Gawaine sayd;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Nor make debate and strife;\n This lothlye ladye I will take,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And marry her to my wife.\n \n Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And a blessinge be thy meede!\n For as I am thine owne lady\u00e8,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Thou never shalt rue this deede.\n \n Then up they took that lothly dame,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And home anone they bringe:\n And there sir Gawaine he her wed,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And married her with a ringe.\n \n And when they were in wed-bed laid,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And all were done awaye:\n \"Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Come turne to mee I praye.\"\n \n Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0For sorrowe and for care;\n When, lo! instead of that lothelye dame,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hee sawe a young ladye faire.\n \n Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Her eyen were blacke as sloe:\n The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And all her necke was snowe.\n \n Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady faire,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lying upon the sheete:\n And swore, as he was a true knighte,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The spice was never soe sweete.\n \n Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady brighte,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lying there by his side:\n \"The fairest flower is not soe faire:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Thou never can'st bee my bride.\"\n \n I am thy bride, mine owne deare lorde,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The same whiche thou didst knowe,\n That was soe lothlye, and was wont\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Upon the wild more to goe.\n \n Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse, quoth shee,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And make thy choice with care;\n Whether by night, or else by daye,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Shall I be foule or faire?\n \n \"To have thee foule still in the night,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0When I with thee should playe!\n I had rather farre, my lady deare,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To have thee foule by daye.\"\n \n What when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To drinke the ale and wine;\n Alas! then I must hide myself,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I must not goe with mine?\n \n \"My faire lady\u00e8, sir Gawaine sayd,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I yield me to thy skille;\n Because thou art mine owne lady\u00e8\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Thou shalt have all thy wille.\"\n \n Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gaw\u00e0ine,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the daye that I thee see;\n For as thou seest mee at this time,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Soe shall I ever bee.\n \n My father was an aged knighte,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And yet it chanced soe,\n He tooke to wife a false lady\u00e8,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Whiche broughte me to this woe.\n \n She witch'd mee, being a faire yonge maide,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In the greene for\u00e8st to dwelle;\n And there to abide in lothlye shape,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Most like a fiend of helle.\n \n Midst mores and mosses; woods, and wilds;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To lead a lonesome life:\n Till some yong faire and courtlye knighte\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Wolde marrye me to his wife:\n \n Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Such was her devilish skille;\n Until he wolde yielde to be rul'd by mee,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And let mee have all my wille.\n \n She witchd my brother to a carlish boore,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And made him stiffe and stronge;\n And built him a bowre on magicke grounde,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To live by rapine and wronge.\n \n But now the spelle is broken throughe,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And wronge is turnde to righte;\n Henceforth I shall bee a faire lady\u00e8,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And hee be a gentle knighte.\n \n \n \n Next: The Christmas of Sir Galahad, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps [1871]","title":"Arthurian Miscellany: The Marriage of Sir Gawaine, by Bishop Thomas Percy [1765]","type":"page"}