Now,
farewell
Gawayne the noble!
Gawaine and the Green Knight
He keeps the
Green Chapel; there passes none by that place, however proud in arms,
that he does not 'ding him to death with dint of his hand. ' He is a man
immoderate and 'no mercy uses,' for be it churl or chaplain that by the
chapel rides, monk or mass-priest, or any man else, it is as pleasant
to him to kill them as to go alive himself. Wherefore I tell thee
truly, 'come ye there, ye be killed, though ye had twenty lives to
spend. He has dwelt there long of yore, and on field much sorrow has
wrought. Against his sore dints ye may not defend you' (ll. 2069-2117).
Therefore, good Sir Gawayne, let the man alone, and for God's sake go
by some other path, and then I shall hie me home again. I swear to you
by
[Footnote 1: He only in part keeps to his covenant, as he holds back
the love-lace. ]
God and all His saints that I will never say that ever ye attempted to
flee from any man. "
Gawayne thanks his guide for his well-meant kindness, but declares that
to the Green Chapel he will go, though the owner thereof be "a stern
knave," for God can devise means to save his servants.
"Mary! " quoth the other, "since it pleases thee to lose thy life I will
not hinder thee. Have thy helmet on thy head, thy spear in thy hand,
and ride down this path by yon rock-side, till thou be brought to the
bottom of the valley. Then look a little on the plain, on thy left
hand, and thou shalt see in that slade the chapel itself, and the burly
knight that guards it (ll. 2118-2148).
Now, farewell Gawayne the noble!
for all the gold upon ground I would not go with thee nor bear thee
fellowship through this wood 'on foot farther. '" Thus having spoken, he
gallops away and leaves the knight alone.
Gawayne now pursues his journey, rides through the dale, and looks
about. He sees no signs of a resting-place, but only high and steep
banks, and the very shadows of the high woods seemed wild and
distorted. No chapel, however, could he discover. After a while he sees
a round hill by the side of a stream; thither he goes, alights, and
fastens his horse to the branch of a tree. He walks about the hill,
debating with himself what it might be. It had a hole in the one end
and on each side, and everywhere overgrown with grass, but whether it
was only an old cave or a crevice of an old crag he could not tell (ll.
2149-2188).
"Now, indeed," quoth Gawayne, "a desert is here; this oratory is ugly
with herbs overgrown. It is a fitting place for the man in green to
'deal here his devotions after the devil's manner. ' Now I feel it is
the fiend (the devil) in my five wits that has covenanted with me that
he may destroy me. This is a chapel of misfortune--evil betide it! It
is the most cursed kirk that ever I came in. " With his helmet on his
head, and spear in his hand, he roams up to the rock, and then he hears
from that high hill beyond the brook a wondrous wild noise.
Green Chapel; there passes none by that place, however proud in arms,
that he does not 'ding him to death with dint of his hand. ' He is a man
immoderate and 'no mercy uses,' for be it churl or chaplain that by the
chapel rides, monk or mass-priest, or any man else, it is as pleasant
to him to kill them as to go alive himself. Wherefore I tell thee
truly, 'come ye there, ye be killed, though ye had twenty lives to
spend. He has dwelt there long of yore, and on field much sorrow has
wrought. Against his sore dints ye may not defend you' (ll. 2069-2117).
Therefore, good Sir Gawayne, let the man alone, and for God's sake go
by some other path, and then I shall hie me home again. I swear to you
by
[Footnote 1: He only in part keeps to his covenant, as he holds back
the love-lace. ]
God and all His saints that I will never say that ever ye attempted to
flee from any man. "
Gawayne thanks his guide for his well-meant kindness, but declares that
to the Green Chapel he will go, though the owner thereof be "a stern
knave," for God can devise means to save his servants.
"Mary! " quoth the other, "since it pleases thee to lose thy life I will
not hinder thee. Have thy helmet on thy head, thy spear in thy hand,
and ride down this path by yon rock-side, till thou be brought to the
bottom of the valley. Then look a little on the plain, on thy left
hand, and thou shalt see in that slade the chapel itself, and the burly
knight that guards it (ll. 2118-2148).
Now, farewell Gawayne the noble!
for all the gold upon ground I would not go with thee nor bear thee
fellowship through this wood 'on foot farther. '" Thus having spoken, he
gallops away and leaves the knight alone.
Gawayne now pursues his journey, rides through the dale, and looks
about. He sees no signs of a resting-place, but only high and steep
banks, and the very shadows of the high woods seemed wild and
distorted. No chapel, however, could he discover. After a while he sees
a round hill by the side of a stream; thither he goes, alights, and
fastens his horse to the branch of a tree. He walks about the hill,
debating with himself what it might be. It had a hole in the one end
and on each side, and everywhere overgrown with grass, but whether it
was only an old cave or a crevice of an old crag he could not tell (ll.
2149-2188).
"Now, indeed," quoth Gawayne, "a desert is here; this oratory is ugly
with herbs overgrown. It is a fitting place for the man in green to
'deal here his devotions after the devil's manner. ' Now I feel it is
the fiend (the devil) in my five wits that has covenanted with me that
he may destroy me. This is a chapel of misfortune--evil betide it! It
is the most cursed kirk that ever I came in. " With his helmet on his
head, and spear in his hand, he roams up to the rock, and then he hears
from that high hill beyond the brook a wondrous wild noise.
