It was the
loveliest
castle he
had ever beheld.
had ever beheld.
Gawaine and the Green Knight
590-669);
"Very much was the warm water that poured from eyes that day. "
Now rides our knight through the realms of England with no companion
but his foal, and no one to hold converse with save God alone. From
Camelot, in Somersetshire, he proceeds through Gloucestershire and the
adjoining counties into Montgomeryshire, and thence through North Wales
to Holyhead, adjoining the Isle of Anglesea (ll. 670-700), from which
he passes into the very narrow peninsula of Wirral, in Cheshire, where
dwelt but few that loved God or man. Gawayne enquires after the Green
Knight of the Green Chapel, but all the inhabitants declare that they
have never seen "any man of such hues of green. "
The knight thence pursues his journey by strange paths, over hill and
moor, encountering on his way not only serpents, wolves, bulls, bears,
and boars, but wood satyrs and giants. But worse than all those,
however, was the sharp winter, "when the cold clear water shed from the
clouds, and froze ere it might fall to the earth. Nearly slain with the
sleet he slept in his armour, more nights than enough, in naked rocks"
(ll. 701-729).
Thus in peril and plight the knight travels on until Christmas-eve, and
to Mary he makes his moan that she may direct him to some abode. On the
morn he arrives at an immense forest, wondrously wild, surrounded by
high hills on every side, where he found hoary oaks full huge, a
hundred together. The hazel and the hawthorn intermingled were all
overgrown with moss, and upon their boughs sat many sad birds that
piteously piped for pain of the cold. Gawayne besought the Lord and
Mary to guide him to some habitation where he might hear mass (ll.
730-762). Scarcely had he crossed himself thrice, when he perceived a
dwelling in the wood set upon a hill.
It was the loveliest castle he
had ever beheld. It was pitched on a prairie, with a park all about it,
enclosing many a tree for more than two miles. It shone as the sun
through the bright oaks (ll. 763-772).
Gawayne urges on his steed Gringolet, and finds himself at the "chief
gate. " He called aloud, and soon there appeared a "porter" on the wall,
who demanded his errand.
"Good sir," quoth Gawayne, "wouldst thou go to the high lord of this
house, and crave a lodging for me? "
"Yea, by Peter! " replied the porter, "well I know that thou art welcome
to dwell here as long as thou likest. "
The drawbridge is soon let down, and the gates opened wide to receive
the knight. Many noble ones hasten to bid him welcome (ll. 773-825).
They take away his helmet, sword, and shield, and many a proud one
presses forward to do him honour. They bring him into the hall, where a
fire was brightly burning upon the hearth. Then the lord of the land[1]
comes from his chamber and welcomes Sir Gawayne, telling him that he is
to consider the place as his own. Our knight is next conducted to a
bright bower, where was noble bedding--curtains of pure silk, with
golden hems, and Tarsic tapestries upon the walls and the floors (ll.
"Very much was the warm water that poured from eyes that day. "
Now rides our knight through the realms of England with no companion
but his foal, and no one to hold converse with save God alone. From
Camelot, in Somersetshire, he proceeds through Gloucestershire and the
adjoining counties into Montgomeryshire, and thence through North Wales
to Holyhead, adjoining the Isle of Anglesea (ll. 670-700), from which
he passes into the very narrow peninsula of Wirral, in Cheshire, where
dwelt but few that loved God or man. Gawayne enquires after the Green
Knight of the Green Chapel, but all the inhabitants declare that they
have never seen "any man of such hues of green. "
The knight thence pursues his journey by strange paths, over hill and
moor, encountering on his way not only serpents, wolves, bulls, bears,
and boars, but wood satyrs and giants. But worse than all those,
however, was the sharp winter, "when the cold clear water shed from the
clouds, and froze ere it might fall to the earth. Nearly slain with the
sleet he slept in his armour, more nights than enough, in naked rocks"
(ll. 701-729).
Thus in peril and plight the knight travels on until Christmas-eve, and
to Mary he makes his moan that she may direct him to some abode. On the
morn he arrives at an immense forest, wondrously wild, surrounded by
high hills on every side, where he found hoary oaks full huge, a
hundred together. The hazel and the hawthorn intermingled were all
overgrown with moss, and upon their boughs sat many sad birds that
piteously piped for pain of the cold. Gawayne besought the Lord and
Mary to guide him to some habitation where he might hear mass (ll.
730-762). Scarcely had he crossed himself thrice, when he perceived a
dwelling in the wood set upon a hill.
It was the loveliest castle he
had ever beheld. It was pitched on a prairie, with a park all about it,
enclosing many a tree for more than two miles. It shone as the sun
through the bright oaks (ll. 763-772).
Gawayne urges on his steed Gringolet, and finds himself at the "chief
gate. " He called aloud, and soon there appeared a "porter" on the wall,
who demanded his errand.
"Good sir," quoth Gawayne, "wouldst thou go to the high lord of this
house, and crave a lodging for me? "
"Yea, by Peter! " replied the porter, "well I know that thou art welcome
to dwell here as long as thou likest. "
The drawbridge is soon let down, and the gates opened wide to receive
the knight. Many noble ones hasten to bid him welcome (ll. 773-825).
They take away his helmet, sword, and shield, and many a proud one
presses forward to do him honour. They bring him into the hall, where a
fire was brightly burning upon the hearth. Then the lord of the land[1]
comes from his chamber and welcomes Sir Gawayne, telling him that he is
to consider the place as his own. Our knight is next conducted to a
bright bower, where was noble bedding--curtains of pure silk, with
golden hems, and Tarsic tapestries upon the walls and the floors (ll.
