"Mare, mce!" feyde pt lady bryst,
<< Uher" I schatt fe enny mor? pis knyžt,
That hathe ley my body fo ner" ?"
Uhe pe mefe was doune to ende,

Syr G. toke his leve to wende,

And ponkyde hym of his cher?

"Furft," fayde pe Carle, "3e fchalt dynñ,

[fol. 24.] And on my bleffynge wende home fyne, Homward al yn fere1.

Hit is xxti, wynt goñ,” fayde pe Karle, “nowe,

That god I make a-vowe,

Ther fore I was fulle fad;

Ther? fchulde neu? man logge i my won3,

But he fcholde be flayne, I wys,

But he did as I hym bad.

But he wolde do my byddynge bowne,

He fchulde be flayne, & layde a-downe,

Whedir? he wer? lorde or lad';

Fonde I neu', G. none but the,

Nowe gode of heuyn yelde hit the,

Ther fore I am fulle glade.

دو

He yelde pe," fayde pe Carle, " pt pe dere bouzte!

For al my bale to blyffe is brouzte,

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Nowe wulle I forfake my wyckyd lawys,
p9 fchatt no mo men her" be flawe, I wys,
As fer1 forthe as I may.

G. for the love of the,

Al fchal be welcome to me,

pt comythe her" by this way;

And for alle these fowlys I vndirtake,

A chauntery her wul I lete make,

x. preftis fyngynge til domys-day."

Be that tyme her dyner was redy dyzte,

Tables wer' hovyn' vp an hyzte,

I-keuerid bei were fulle clene;
Syr G. and ps lady dere,
They were i-fuyd bothe i-fer",

Myche myrthe was theme bytwene.
Ther fore pe Carle was full glade,
The byfchop & f Kay he bad,
Mery pt pei fcholde bene;

He 3afe pe bifchop to his bleffynge,

A cros, a myter, & a rynge,

A clothe of golde, I wene;
He 3aff Kay, pe angery knygħt,

[fol. 25.] A blode-rede ftede, and a whight,
Suche on had he neu' fene.

He 3aff G. fothe to say,

His douzter, & a whizte palfray,
A somer i-chargid wt golde;
Sche was fo gloryous & fo gay,
I kowde not rekyn here a-ray,
So bryзte was alle her molde!

"Nowe ryde forpe, G. on my bleffynge,
And grete wel Artyr, þt is yo kynge,
And pray hym pt he wolde;

For his loue pt yn Bedlem was borne,

1 ferth, MS.

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That he wull dyne wt me to-morne,"

G. feyde he scholde.

Then bei rode fyngynge a-way,

Wt ps yonge lady on her palfray,

pt was fo fayr & bryghte;

They tolde kynge Artir wher? pei had bene,

And what wondirs pei had fene,

Serteynly in her fyght.

"Nowe thonkyd be god, cofyn Gawyñ,

pt pu fcapift a-lyve vn-flayne,

Serteyne, wt alle my myght;"—

"And I, f kynge,” fayd f Kay a-gayne,

[fol. 25b.] "That eu? I fcapid a-way vn-flayne,

My hert was neuyr fo lyght.

pe Carle pryde you for his love pt yn Bedle was borne,

That ye wolde dyne wt hym to-morne,”—

Kynge Art fone hym hygħt;

In pe dawnynge forpe pey rade,

A ryalle metynge per was i-made,
Of many a ientylle knygħt.
Trompettis mette hem at pe gate,
Clarions of filuer redy per ate,
Serteyne wythoutyn lette;
Harpe, fedylle, and fawtry,

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[fol.26.] Wt pynnacles of golde, fterne and stoute,
Ther cowde no man hem preyfe.
Trompettys trompid vp in grete hete,

The kynge lete fey göce, & wente to mete,
And was i-fuyde wt oute lette;

Swannys, fefaūtys, & cranys,

Partrigis, plouers, and curlewys,

Be-fore þe kynge was sette.

The Carle feyde to pe kynge, "dothe gladly,

Here get ye no nopir curtesy,

As I vndir-ftonde;"

Wt þat come yn bollys of golde so grete,

Ther was no knyght fat at þe mete,

Myght lyfte hem wt his on honde.
The kynge fwore by feynte Mygħelle,
"This dyner" lykythe me as welle,
As any pat euyr Y fonde;"

A dubbyd hym knyght on the morne,

The contre of Carelyle he zefe hym fone,

To be lorde of pat londe.
"Her" I make pe, yn pis ftownde,

A knyght of þe Table Rownde,
Karlyle þi name schalle be;"

[fol. 26b.] On the morne, when hit was day-lyght,
Syr G. weddyid' þat lady bryght,

That femely was to fe.

Than þe Carle was glade and blythe,

And thonkyd pe kynge fele fythe,

For fothe as I yow fay;

A ryche feste had' he i-dygħt',
That laftyd holy a fortenyght,
Wt game, myrthe, and playe.
The mynftrellis had yeftys fre,
That þey myght þe better be,

i-dygh, MS.

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To spende many a day;

And when pe fefte was brouzte to ende,

Lordis toke here leve to wende,
Homwarde on her way.

A ryche Abbey þe Carle gan make,

To fynge and rede1 for goddis fake,

In wurfchip of our lady;
In the towne of mery Carelyle,

He lete hit bylde ftronge & wele,

Hit is a byfchoppis fee.

And per yn monkys gray,

To rede and fynge tille domys-day,

[fol. 27.] As men tolde hit me;

For the men pt he had flayne, I wis,-
Jhū Cryste, brynge vs to thy blis,
Aboue in heuyn, yn thy fee! AMEN.

'redee, MS.

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