I fuppofe on of the Rounde Table,
For at nede he ys both ftronge and hable,
So haue I founde hym, withouten mysse."
Right fo as they spake the one to the other,
There came to them the feconde brother,
Syr Tyrry was hys name;

He came rydynge on a iolye courfyer,
Dryvinge by leapes, as the wylde fyer,
The knyght was of good fame.

He was not ware of hys father deare,

But hys brother called hym neare,

And fayde, "Syr, nowe abyde;"

He than turned hys horfe, that knyght fo gaye,

By leapes out of straye,

Hys hearte was full of pryde.

Than founde he hys father all blodye,

[fol. 19.]

And hys brother was wounded fyckerlye,

In hys hearte he began to be fyke:

"A! fyr, who hath wounded youe?" quod he,
"A-venged on hym nowe wyll I be,

That shall hym myflyke."

"I wys, fonne, yt ys a knyght stronge,

That hath done vs thys wronge,

Aboue on the mountayne;

He hath me wounded pafsynge foore,

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But neuer the later I fhall do my myght,
Hys ftrenght afsaye nowe I shall in fyght,
Yf he were of the deuyls kynne."

T

HYS knyght Syr Teny turned hys horfe,
And vp the mountayne he rode with force,
As fast as he myght dryue;

He came to the pauylion, with greate pryde,—

"Haue done, fyr knyght, thy horse bestryde,
For with the I am at ftry ue."

Syr Gawayne loked out at the pauylyon doore,
And fawe thys knyght armed hym before,

To hym he fayed verelye;

"Syr, yf I haue ought to youe offended,

[fol. 19b.] I am ready to make yt to be amended,

By mylde mother Marye!"

"Naye, Syr knyght, yt maye not fo be,
Therfore make the ready faste to me,

In all the haste that thou maye;
For be god that me dere bought,
Make a-mendes mayest thou nought,
Therfore nowe lett vs playe."
Gawayne fawe none other bote than,
Hys horse he toke as a worthye man,
And into the faddle he fprente;

He toke hys horse with a greate randone,

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[fol. 20.]

And throughe the fholder hym pyght;
And caste hym ouer the horse backe,
That in the earth hys helme stacke,
That nyghe hys death he was dyght.
Syr Gawayne than fayed on hyght,

"Syr knyght, wyll ye any more fyght?"
He aunswered hym, "naye,

I am fo foore hurte I may no more ftande,
Therfore I yelde me in to thy hande,

Of mercye I the praye."

[Here is inserted a drawing.]

"What," fayde Gawayne, "ys that youre boast greate?

I wende youe woulde haue foughten tyll ye had sweate,
Ys youre ftrenght all done ?"

"Yea, fyr, in fayth, fo god me nowe faue!

Of me thou mayste no more craue,

For all my myght ys gone.

Thou haste to-day wonne thre knyghtes,

The father, and two fonnes, that well fyghtes,
Worfhypfullye vnder thy fhyelde;

And yf thou maye wynne our eldest brother,

[fol. 20b.] I call thee the best knyght, and none other, That euer fought in fyelde.

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"Syr, thou hast gotten as we haue, and non other,

That knewe I well yt fhoulde fo be;"

"By god!" fayde Syr Terrye, "fo nowe yt ys,
He ys a deuyll, forfothe ywys,

And that ys proued on me."

"Yea," quod Syr Gylbart, that Earle fo olde,
"He ys a knyght bothe stronge and bolde,
And fortune ys hys frende;

My doughters loue he hath clene wanne,
Therfore I dare well faye he ys a manne,
Where euer that he wende."

As they thre ftode thus talkynge,

[fol. 21.] They hearde a manne full loude fynge, That all the woode ronge;

66 That ys my fonne Brandles fo gaye,
Whan he feeth vs in fuche araye,

He wyll leaue hys fonge."

By than they fawe the knight comynge,

A grene boughe in hys hande he dyd brynge,
Syttynge on a ioylye courfyere;

Hys horfe was trapped in redde veluett,

Many ouches of golde theron was fette,

Of knyghthode he had no peere.

Alfo hys horse was armed before,

The headde and the brest, and no more,
And that in fyne steele;

Hym felfe was armed passynge fure,
In harneys that woulde strokes endure,

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That had bene proued right wele.

Thys knyght bare on hys hedde a pomell gaye,

Syttynge on hys horfe, ftertynge oute of the waye,

By leapes he came aboute;

A fhyelde he had, that was of renowne,

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He bare theryn a blacke fawcowne,

The shyelde was of syluer withoute.

Also in hys hande a fpere he bare,

Bothe stronge and longe, I make youe ware,
And of a truftye tree;

There was an headde theron of steele wrought,
The best that myght be made or bought,
And well afsayed had be.

Theron of pleasaunce a kercheyf dyd honge,
I wote yt was more than thre elles longe,
Enbrodered all withe golde;

[fol. 21b.] He was a knyght of large and lenght,
And proued well of muche ftrenght,

Afsaye hym who fo woulde.

Spurres of golde also he had on,

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