Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

by W. S. Merwin

And þe grehoundez so grete, þat geten hem bylyue

  And hem tofylched, as fast as frekez myзt loke, þer-ryзt.

  Þe lorde for blys abloy

  Ful oft con launce and lyзt, 1175

  And drof þat day wyth joy

  Thus to þe derk nyзt.

  Þus laykez þis lorde by lynde-wodez euez,

  And Gawayn þe god mon in gay bed lygez,

  Lurkkez quyl þe daylyзt lemed on þe wowes, 1180

  When they first heard the hunt the wild creatures quaked.

  Deer dashed to the hollows, dazed with dread,

  Raced up to the ridges, but all at once they were

  Turned back by the beaters and their loud shouts.

  They let the harts pass on, holding their heads high,

  And the brave bucks too, with their broad antlers,

  Because the noble lord had forbidden anyone

  To shoot at the stags during the closed season.

  The hinds were held back with “Hey!” and with “ 'Ware!,”

  The does driven with all the din into the deep valleys.

  There might a man see the loosed arrows flying,

  The shafts flashing through every break in the forest.

  The broad heads bit deep into the brown hides.

  Look! They cry and bleed, they die on the hillsides,

  And always the hounds are racing at their heels

  And hunters with loud horns following behind them,

  Their shouts sounding as though the cliffs were cracking.

  Whatever wild creatures escaped the archers

  Were pulled down and torn apart at the dog stations.

  They were harried from the high places and driven to the water.

  The beaters were so skillful at the stations down there,

  And the greyhounds so huge and hard upon them

  They snatched them down more swiftly than a man's eye could follow.

  The lord, wild with joy,

  Would race ahead, then alight,

  Happy that whole day

  And on to the dark night.

  Thus this lord sports in the nearby forest

  And Gawain, the good man, lies in his lovely bed

  Staying snug while the daylight climbs on the walls,

  Vnder couertour ful clere, cortyned aboute;

  And as in slomeryng he slode, sleзly he herde

  A littel dyn at his dor, and dernly vpon;

  And he heuez vp his hed out of þe cloþes,

  A corner of þe cortyn he caзt vp a lyttel,

  And waytez warly þiderwarde quat hit be myзt. 1186

  Hit watz þe ladi, loflyest to beholde,

  Þat droз þe dor after hir ful dernly and stylle,

  And boзed towarde þe bed; and þe burne schamed,

  And layde hym doun lystyly, and let as he slepte; 1190

  And ho stepped stilly and stel to his bedde,

  Kest vp þe cortyn and creped withinne,

  And set hir ful softly on þe bed-syde,

  And lenged þere selly longe to loke quen he wakened.

  Þe lede lay lurked a ful longe quyle, 1195

  Compast in his concience to quat þat cace myзt

  Meue oþer amount—to meruayle hym poзt,

  Bot зet he sayde in hymself, ‘More semly hit were

  To aspye wyth my spelle in space quat ho wolde.'

  Þen he wakenede, and wroth, and to hir warde torned, 1200

  And vnlouked his yзe-lyddez, and let as hym wondered,

  And sayned hym, as bi his saзe þe sauer to worthe, with hande.

  Wyth chynne and cheke ful swete,

  Boþe quit and red in blande, 1205

  Ful lufly con ho lete

  Wyth lyppez smal laзande.

  God moroun, Sir Gawayn,' sayde þat gay lady,

  ‘Зe ar a sleper vnslyзe, þat mon may slyde hider;

  Now ar зe tan as-tyt! Bot true vus may schape, 1210

  I schal bynde yow in your bedde, þat be зe trayst':

  Under a bright coverlet with curtains around him,

  And as he slumbered softly it seemed to him he heard

  A small sound at his door, and suddenly it opened

  And he heaves up his head out of the bedclothes,

  He lifts up a corner of the curtain a little

  And peers out cautiously to see what it might be.

  It was the lady, the loveliest one to look at,

  Who shut the door behind her without making a sound

  And turned toward the bed, and the knight was embarrassed

  And lay back to look as though he were asleep,

  And with hushed steps she stole to his bed,

  Lifted the curtain and crept inside

  And softly set herself down on the bedside

  And stayed there a long time watching for him to wake.

  The knight went on pretending for a while

  Turning over in his mind what this visitation

  Might mean or lead to, and wondering at it.

  Yet he said to himself, “It would be better

  To speak directly and ask what she wants.”

  Then he woke, and stretched, and turned until he faced her

  And opened his eyes wide as though he were startled,

  And crossed himself as though to fend off temptation with his hand.

  Her chin and her cheek were lovely,

  White and red mingling;

  Her way and her words were pretty

  And her small lips laughing.

  “Good morning, Sir Gawain,” said the beautiful lady,

  “You are a careless sleeper if one can steal up on you.

  Now you are caught just like that! But we can come to terms.

  I will keep you captive in your bed, you can be sure of that.”

  ‘Al laзande þe lady lanced þo bourdez.

  ‘Goud moroun, gay,’ quoþ Gawayn þe blyþe,

  ‘Me schal worþe at your wille, and þat me wel lykez,

  For I зelde me зederly, and зeзe after grace, 1215

  And þat is þe best, be my dome, for me byhouez nede':

  And þus he bourded aзayn with mony a blyþe laзter.

  ‘Bot wolde зe, lady louely, þen leue me grante,

  And deprece your prysoun, and pray hym to ryse,

  I wolde boзe of þis bed, and busk me better; 1220

  I schulde keuer þe more comfort to karp yow wyth.'

  ‘Nay for soþe, beau sir,’ sayd þat swete,

  ‘Зe schal not rise of your bedde, I rych yow better,

  I schal happe yow here þat oþer half als,

  And syþen karp wyth my knyзt þat I kaзt haue; 1225

  For I wene wel, iwysse, Sir Wowen зe are,

  Þat alle þe worlde worchipez quere-so зe ride;

  Your honour, your hendelayk is hendely praysed

  With lordez, wyth ladyes, with alle þat lyf bere.

  And now зe ar here, iwysse, and we bot oure one; 1230

  My lorde and his ledez ar on lenþe faren,

  Oþer burnez in her bedde, and my burdez als,

  Þe dor drawen and dit with a derf haspe;

  And syþen I haue in þis hous hym þat al lykez,

  I schal ware my whyle wel, quyl hit lastez, with tale. 1235

  Зe ar welcum to my cors,

  Yowre awen won to wale,

  Me behouez of fyne force

  Your seruaunt be, and schale.' 1240

  ‘In god fayth,’ quoþ Gawayn, ‘gayn hit me þynkkez,

  Þaз I be not now he þat зe of speken;

  The lady laughed as she made light of it.

  “Good morning, fair lady,” Gawain said merrily.

  “You will have your way with me, and I like the thought of that,

  And I surrender immediately and beg for mercy,

  And that, I believe, is the best I can do.”

  And thus he too made light of it and laughed about it.

  “But, beautiful lady, if you would allow
me,

  If you were to release your prisoner and tell him to rise,

  I would leave this bed and dress myself better,

  And feel more at ease for talking with you.”

  “No indeed, fair sir,” said that lovely lady.

  “You shall not rise from your bed, for I have better plans.

  I shall hold you tight on that other side too

  And then converse with my knight when I have caught him.

  For I am aware that you are Sir Gawain,

  Whom all the world worships wherever you ride.

  Your honor, your courtesy are endlessly praised

  Among lords and ladies and all who are alive.

  And now you are here, in truth, and we are alone.

  My lord and his men are riding far from here.

  The others are in their beds, and my ladies too;

  The door shut and locked with a heavy bolt,

  And since I have in this house the one whom they all like,

  I shall use my time well as long as it lasts, and my talk.

  You are welcome to my body

  For your own sweet will.

  I cannot help but be

  Your servant, and so I will.”

  “In good faith,” Gawain said, “fortune seems to have found me,

  Though I am hardly the person you tell of.

  To reche to such reuerence as зe reherce here

  I am wyзe vnworþy, I wot wel myseluen.

  Bi God, I were glad, and yow god þoзt, 1245

  At saзe oþer at seruyce þat I sette myзt

  To þe plesaunce of your prys—hit were a pure ioye.'

  ‘In god fayth, Sir Gawayn,’ quoþ þe gay lady,

  ‘Þe prys and þe prowes þat plesez al oþer,

  If I hit lakked oþer set at lyзt, hit were littel daynté; 1250

  Bot hit ar ladyes innoзe þat leuer wer nowþe

  Haf þe, hende, in hor holde, as I þe habbe here,

  To daly with derely your daynté wordez,

  Keuer hem comfort and colen her carez,

  Þen much of þe garysoun oþer golde þat þay hauen. 1255

  Bot I louue þat ilk lorde þat þe lyfte haldez,

  I haf hit holly in my honde þat al desyres, þurзe grace.'

  Scho made hym so gret chere,

  Þat watz so fayr of face,

  Þe knyзt with speches skere 1261

  Answared to vche a cace.

  ‘Madame,’ quoþ þe myry mon, ‘Mary yow зelde,

  For I haf founden, in god fayth, yowre fraunchis nobele,

  And oþer ful much of oþer folk fongen bi hor dedez, 1265

  Bot þe daynté þat þay delen, for my disert nys euen,

  Hit is þe worchyp of yourself, þat noзt bot wel connez.'

  ‘Bi Mary,’ quoþ þe menskful, ‘me þynk hit an oþer;

  For were I worth al þe wone of wymmen alyue,

  And al þe wele of þe worlde were in my honde, 1270

  And I schulde chepen and chose to cheue me a lorde,

  For þe costes þat I haf knowen vpon þe, knyзt, here,

  Of bewté and debonerté and blyþe semblaunt,

  I am all unworthy, as I know myself,

  To presume to the honor you ascribe to me.

  I would be glad, by God, if it suited you

  For me to offer some word or deed

  To please your fair self. That would be pure joy.”

  “In good faith, Sir Gawain,” said the lovely lady,

  “If I belittled or slighted the honor and prowess

  The rest of the world likes, that would not be right.

  But there are many ladies who would be happy now

  To hold you, good sir, as I hold you here,

  And converse happily in courtly love talk.

  It would give them more pleasure and deeper comfort

  Than all of the treasure and gold that they have.

  But I praise that one lord who reigns in heaven

  That I have wholly in my hand what they all want, through His grace.”

  So pretty her ways are,

  And so lovely her face,

  Yet the knight's words are pure

  Whatever she says.

  “Madam,” said that merry man, “Mary reward you,

  For your generosity, in good faith, seems noble to me.

  There are some whose deeds earn honor from others,

  But I do not deserve the esteem they accord me.

  It is honor of your own that makes you speak well of me.”

  “By Mary,” the lady said, “I see it another way.

  For if I were worth all the women alive together,

  And all the wealth of the world were in my hand

  And I were to bargain and choose to have me a lord,

  Because of the virtues, Knight, that I have known in you here,

  Your fine looks and manners and spirited style,

  And þat I haf er herkkened and halde hit here trwee,

  Þer schulde no freke vpon folde bifore yow be chosen.' 1275

  ‘Iwysse, worþy,’ quoþ þe wyзe, ‘зe haf waled wel better,

  Bot I am proude of þe prys þat зe put on me,

  And, soberly your seruaunt, my souerayn I holde yow,

  And yowre knyзt I becom, and Kryst yow forзelde.'

  Þus þay meled of muchquat til mydmorn paste, 1280

  And ay þe lady let lyk as hym loued mych;

  Þe freke ferde with defence, and feted ful fayre—

  ‘Þaз I were burde bryзtest’, þe burde in mynde hade.

  Þe lasse luf in his lode for lur þat he soзt boute hone, 1285

  Þe dunte þat schulde hym deue,

  And nedez hit most be done.

  Þe lady þenn spek of leue,

  He granted hir ful sone.

  Þenne ho gef hym god day, and wyth a glent laзed, 1290

  And as ho stod, ho stonyed hym wyth ful stor wordez:

  ‘Now he þat spedez vche spech þis disport зelde yow!

  Bot þat зe be Gawan, hit gotz in mynde.'

  ‘Querfore?’ quoþ þe freke, and freschly he askez,

  Ferde lest he hade fayled in fourme of his castes; 1295

  Bot þe burde hym blessed, and ‘Bi þis skyl’ sayde:

  ‘So god as Gawayn gaynly is halden,

  And cortaysye is closed so clene in hymseluen,

  Couth not lyзtly haf lenged so long wyth a lady,

  Bot he had craued a cosse, bi his courtaysye, 1300

  Bi sum towch of summe tryfle at sum talez ende.'

  Þen quoþ Wowen: ‘Iwysse, worþe as yow lykez;

  I schal kysse at your comaundement, as a knyзt fallez,

  Which I had long heard about and now know to be true,

  There is no knight on earth whom I would have chosen before you.”

  “Indeed, noble lady, you made a better choice,

  But I am proud of the honor you place upon me;

  I count myself your servant, certainly, and you my sovereign.

  I have become your knight, and may Christ reward you.”

  They went on talking of this and that until past mid-morning

  And all that time the lady let him know how much she loved him.

  The knight fended her off, behaving correctly.

  “Though I were the loveliest of all ladies,” said the lady to herself,

  “He carries no love with him”—with his fate looming before him,

  The blow that would fell him,

  As things were bound to be.

  The lady said she would leave him.

  He accepted promptly.

  Then she wished him good day, with a laughing glance,

  And as she stood up she startled him with the sting in her words:

  “Now may He who blesses each word reward you for this pleasure,

  But I wonder whether you are Gawain after all.”

  “Why is that?” the knight asked as soon as she said it,

  Fear
ing that he might have failed to speak with full courtesy,

  But the lady blessed him and answered like this:

  “Refined as they say Gawain's manners are,

  With such chivalry as he is said to embody,

  He could scarcely have stayed so long with a lady

  Without asking for a kiss, if only from politeness,

  At some point or pause, somewhere in the conversation.”

  Then Gawain said, “Indeed, whatever you will.

  I shall kiss at your command, as a knight should,

  And fire, lest he displese yow, so plede hit no more.'

  Ho comes nerre with þat, and cachez hym in armez, 1305

  Loutez luflych adoun and þe leude kyssez.

  Þay comly bykennen to Kryst ayþer oþer;

  Ho dos hir forth at þe dore withouten dyn more;

  And he ryches hym to ryse and rapes hym sone,

  Clepes, to his chamberlayn, choses his wede, 1310

  Boзez forth, quen he watz boun, blyþely to masse;

  And þenne he meued to his mete þat menskly hym keped,

  And made myry al day, til þe mone rysed, with game.

  Watz neuer freke fayrer fonge 1315

  Bitwene two so dyngne dame,

  Þe alder and þe зonge;

  Much solace set þay same.

  And ay þe lorde of þe londe is lent on his gamnez,

  To hunt in holtez and heþe at hyndez barayne; 1320

  Such a sowme he þer slowe bi þat þe sunne heldet,

  Of dos and of oþer dere, to deme were wonder.

  Þenne fersly þay flokked in folk at þe laste,

  And quykly of þe quelled dere a querré þay maked.

  Þe best boзed þerto with burnez innoghe, 1325

  Gedered þe grattest of gres þat þer were,

  And didden hem derely vndo as þe dede askez;

  Serched hem at þe asay summe þat þer were,

  Two fyngeres þay fonde of þe fowlest of alle.

  Syþen þay slyt þe slot, sesed þe erber, 1330

  Schaued wyth a scharp knyf, and þe schyre knitten;

  Syþen rytte þay þe foure lymmes, and rent of þe hyde,

  Þen brek þay þe balé, þe bowelez out token

  Rather than displease you, so plead it no further.”

  At that she comes close to him and takes him in her arms,

  Bends down tenderly and kisses the knight.

  Politely they commend each other to Christ.

  She goes out the door without another sound

  And he makes ready to rise without more delay,

  Calls for his chamberlain, chooses what to wear,

  Sets out to Mass in high spirits as soon as he is dressed.