Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

by W. S. Merwin

  I want to express my thanks in particular to Nicholas Howe for his care in reading this translation and his helpful suggestions, though any remaining departures from the sense or spirit of the original must of course be ascribed to shortcomings of my own.

  I

  Siþen þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye,

  Þe borз brittened and brent to brondez and askez,

  Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wroзt

  Watz tried for his tricherie, þe trewest on erthe:

  Hit watz Ennias þe athel, and his highe kynde, 5

  Þat siþen depreced prouinces, and patrounes bicome

  Welneзe of al þe wele in þe west iles.

  Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyþe,

  With gret bobbaunce þat burзe he biges vpon fyrst,

  And neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat; 10

  Tirius to Tuskan and teldes bigynnes,

  Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes,

  And fer ouer þe French flod Felix Brutus

  On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settez wyth wynne, 15

  Where werre and wrake and wonder

  Bi syþez hatz wont þerinne,

  And oft boþe blysse and blunder

  Ful skete hatz skyfted synne.

  Ande quen þis Bretayn watz bigged bi þis burn rych, 20

  Bolde bredden þerinne, baret þat lofden,

  In mony turned tyme tene þat wroзten.

  Mo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft

  Þen in any oþer þat I wot, syn þat ilk tyme.

  Since the siege and the assault upon Troy were finished,

  The city destroyed and burned down to embers and ashes,

  And the man who made the decoys that deceived them

  Was tried for his treachery, though no man on earth was more true,

  It was the noble Aeneas and his high-born kin

  Who came to conquer provinces and become the lords

  Of almost all the wealth of the Western Isles.

  Noble Romulus went to Rome at once.

  Proudly he set up that city at the beginning,

  Giving it his own name, which it bears to this day.

  Ticius to Tuscany, to begin building there.

  Longobard builds high houses in Lombardy,

  And far across the flood from France Felix Brutus

  Is happy to settle the many hills and the whole breadth of Britain,

  Where war and woe and wonder

  Have been known frequently,

  And by turns bliss and despair

  Have changed places suddenly.

  And when this Britain was built by this noble knight,

  Bold men were bred in it who loved fighting,

  And they made trouble in the course of time.

  More marvels have happened, often, in this land

  Than in any other I know, since that first age.

  Bot of alle þat here bult, of Bretaygne kynges, 25

  Ay watz Arthur þe hendest, as I haf herde telle.

  Forþi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,

  Þat a selly in siзt summe men hit holden,

  And an outtrage awenture of Arthurez wonderez.

  If зe wyl lysten þis laye bot on littel quile, 30

  I schal telle hit as-tit, as I in toun herde, with tonge,

  As hit is stad and stoken

  In stori stif and stronge,

  With lel letteres loken, 35

  In londe so hatz ben longe.

  Þis kyng lay at Camylot vpon Krystmasse

  With mony luflych lorde, ledez of þe best,

  Rekenly of þe Rounde Table alle þo rich breþer,

  With rych reuel oryзt and rechles merþes. 40

  Þer tournayed tulkes by tymez ful mony,

  Justed ful jolilé þise gentyle kniзtes,

  Syþen kayred to þe court caroles to make.

  For þer þe fest watz ilyche ful fiften dayes,

  With alle þe mete and þe mirþe þat men couþe avyse; 45

  Such glaum ande gle glorious to here,

  Dere dyn vpon day, daunsyng on nyзtes,

  Al watz hap vpon heзe in hallez and chambrez

  With lordez and ladies, as leuest him þoзt.

  With all þe wele of þe worlde þay woned þer samen, 50

  Þe most kyd knyзtez vnder Krystes seluen,

  And þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden,

  And he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes;

  For al watz þis fayre folk in her first age, on sille, 55

  But of all who lived here as kings of Britain

  Arthur was ever the noblest, as I have heard tell.

  So I intend to tell of one adventure that happened

  Which some have considered a marvel to behold,

  One of the wonders that are told about Arthur.

  If you will listen for a little while to my lay

  I shall tell it as I heard it in the hall, aloud,

  As it is set down

  In a strong story,

  With true letters written

  Together in the old way.

  This King was staying at Camelot at Christmastime

  With many fair lords and the most beautiful ladies

  And the whole high brotherhood of the Round Table

  In happy festivity and the high revels of the season.

  The men charged in tournaments again and again,

  Noble knights jousting in high spirits;

  Then they rode to the court and danced to carols,

  And the feast went on like that a full fifteen days,

  With all the food and entertainment anyone could imagine.

  The laughter and merrymaking were a glory to hear,

  A happy din all day and dancing at night,

  All on a high note in halls and chambers,

  With lords and ladies as they liked it best.

  They stayed there together with all the wealth in the world,

  The most famous knights under Christ himself,

  And the most beautiful ladies who ever lived,

  And the finest of all was the King holding the court,

  All of these fair folk there in the hall in their first age,

  Þe hapnest vnder heuen,

  Kyng hyзest mon of wylle;

  Hit were now gret nye to neuen

  So hardy a here on hille.

  Wyle Nw Зer watz so зep þat hit watz nwe cummen, 60

  Þat day doubble on þe dece watz þe douth serued.

  Fro þe kyng watz cummen with knyзtes into þe halle,

  Þe chauntré of þe chapel cheued to an ende,

  Loude crye watz þer kest of clerkez and oþer,

  Nowel nayted onewe, neuened ful ofte;

  And syþen riche forth runnen to reche hondeselle, 66

  Зeзed зeres-зiftes on hiз, зelde hem bi hond,

  Debated busyly aboute þo giftes;

  Ladies laзed ful loude, þoз þay lost haden,

  And he þat wan watz not wrothe, þat may зe wel trawe. 70

  Alle þis mirþe þay maden to þe mete tyme;

  When þay had waschen worþyly þay wenten to sete,

  Þe best burne ay abof, as hit best semed,

  Whene Guenore, ful gay, grayþed in þe myddes,

  Dressed on þe dere des, dubbed al aboute, 75

  Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer

  Of tryed tolouse, of tars tapites innoghe,

  Þat were enbrawded and beten wyth þe best gemmes

  Þat myзt be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye, in daye. 80

  Þe comlokest to discrye

  Þer glent with yзen gray,

  A semloker þat euer he syзe

  Soth moзt no mon say.

  The most fortunate under heaven,

  The highest King, famous for his will,

  Now it would be hard for anyone

  To name such a brave host on any hill.

  When the year had turned ne
w only the night before

  The company that day was served double at the high table.

  When the King and his knights came into the hall,

  The chanting in the chapel had come to an end

  And a loud cry went up from the clerics and the others

  Proclaiming Noel once more, calling out the word again,

  And then the nobles ran and got the gifts ready,

  Called out the New Year's presents, holding them high,

  And they debated back and forth over the gifts.

  The ladies laughed loudly, all the ones who had lost,

  And the winner was not sorry, you can be sure.

  All this celebration went on until dinner time.

  When they had washed well, they went to sit at the table,

  The most famous knights nearest the top, as was proper,

  And Guenever, in high spirits, was seated in the middle of them,

  In the arrangement of the famous table, with them arrayed around her,

  Fine silk, furthermore, in a canopy over her,

  Of Toulouse red, and many Tharsian tapestries

  Embroidered and set with the finest of jewels

  That would have cost a great deal if someone had tried to buy them.

  The most beautiful there was the Queen,

  Flashing her gray eye.

  No one had ever seen

  Anyone lovelier in his day.

  Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued,

  He watz so joly of his joyfnes, and sumquat childgered:

  His lif liked hym lyзt, he louied þe lasse

  Auþer to longe lye or to longe sitte,

  So bisied him his зonge blod and his brayn wylde.

  And also an oþer maner meued him eke 90

  Þat he þurз nobelay had nomen, he wolde neuer ete

  Vpon such a dere day er hym deuised were

  Of sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale,

  Of sum mayn meruayle, þat he myзt trawe,

  Of alderes, of armes, of oþer auenturus, 95

  Oþer sum segg hym bisoзt of sum siker knyзt

  To joyne wyth hym in iustyng, in jopardé to lay,

  Lede, lif for lyf, leue vchon oþer,

  As fortune wolde fulsun hom, þe fayrer to haue.

  Þis watz þe kynges countenaunce where he in court were, 100

  At vch farand fest among his fre meny in halle.

  Þerfore of face so fere

  He stiзtlez stif in stalle,

  Ful зep in þat Nw Зere 105

  Much mirthe he mas withalle.

  Thus þer stondes in stale þe stif kyng hisseluen,

  Talkkande bifore þe hyзe table of trifles ful hende.

  There gode Gawan watz grayþed Gwenore bisyde,

  And Agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat oþer syde sittes, 110

  Boþe þe kynges sistersunes and ful siker kniзtes;

  Bischop Bawdewyn abof biginez þe table,

  And Ywan, Vryn son, ette with hymseluen.

  Þise were diзt on þe des and derworþly serued,

  And siþen mony siker segge at þe sidbordez. 115

  Yet Arthur would not eat until they were all served.

  He seemed full of the joy of youth, almost a boy.

  He was happy with his life; he cared little

  For lying in bed or sitting still for a long time,

  His young blood so stirred him and his wild brain.

  And there was a custom, besides, that he meant to keep,

  That he had assumed in his noble way: he would not eat

  On such a holiday until he had been told

  A tale all new of some wonderful event,

  Of some great marvel that he might believe

  About kings, or arms, or other adventures,

  Or unless someone came to ask for a proven knight

  To join with him in jousting, putting his life in peril,

  Risking life against life, each of them allowing

  Fortune to grant the advantage to one of them.

  This was the King's custom when he was holding court

  At every great feast with his noble company in the castle.

  So with his proud face there

  Bravely he stands waiting

  Bold in that New Year,

  And joins in the merrymaking.

  So the King in his strength was standing there by himself

  Talking of court trifles to those at the high table.

  There sat good Gawain with Guenever beside him

  And Agravaine of the hard hand on the other side of her,

  Both of them the King's nephews and famous knights.

  Bishop Bawdewyn was up at the head of the table,

  And then Ywain beside him, who was the son of Urien.

  These were seated on the dais, and lavishly served,

  And many renowned knights were near them at the side tables.

  Þen þe first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes,

  Wyth mony baner ful bryзt þat þerbi henged;

  Nwe nakryn noyse with þe noble pipes,

  Wylde werbles and wyзt wakned lote,

  Þat mony hert ful hiзe hef at her towches. 120

  Dayntés dryuen þerwyth of ful dere metes,

  Foysoun of þe fresche, and on so fele disches

  Þat pine to fynde þe place þe peple biforne

  For to sette þe sylueren þat sere sewes halden on clothe. 125

  Iche lede as he loued hymselue

  Þer laght withouten loþe;

  Ay two had disches twelue,

  Good ber and bryзt wyn boþe.

  Now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more, 130

  For vch wyзe may wel wit no wont þat þer were.

  An oþer noyse ful newe neзed biliue,

  Þat þe lude myзt haf leue liflode to cach;

  For vneþe watz þe noyce not a whyle sesed,

  And þe fyrst cource in þe court kyndely serued, 135

  Þer hales in at þe halle dor an aghlich mayster,

  On þe most on þe molde on mesure hyghe;

  Fro þe swyre to þe swange so sware and so þik,

  And his lyndes and his lymes so longe and so grete,

  Half etayn in erde I hope þat he were,

  Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene, 141

  And þat þe myriest in his muckel þat myзt ride;

  For of bak and of brest al were his bodi sturne,

  Both his wombe and his wast were worthily smale,

  And alle his fetures folзande, in forme þat he hade, ful clene; 145

  Then came the first course, to the blaring of trumpets

  With many brilliant banners hanging from them.

  New kettledrums rumbled with the noble pipes

  Wakening wild warblings with their loud sounds

  And lifting many hearts high with their music.

  In the midst of it rare and delicate dishes are served,

  Mounds of fresh meat, and so many platters

  That it was hard to find enough places

  To set down the silver with the stews in it on the tablecloth.

  Each one as he pleases

  Takes whatever he will.

  For every two there are twelve dishes,

  Good beer and bright wine both.

  Now I will say no more about their service,

  For all must know that no one lacked anything.

  Another noise and a new one suddenly reached them

  In less time than it takes to lift food to the lips.

  Scarcely had the sound faded away again,

  With the first course in the court properly served,

  Than in at the hall door comes a frightening figure,

  He must have been taller than anyone in the world:

  From the neck to the waist so huge and thick,

  And his loins and limbs so long and massive,

  That I would say he was half a giant on earth.

  At least I am sure he was the biggest of m
en.

  Yet he sat with a matchless grace in the saddle.

  His back and his chest and whole body were frightening

  And both his belt and belly were trim and small

  And all of his features were in proportion to the rest of him.

  For wonder of his hwe men hade,

  Set in his semblaunt sene;

  He ferde as freke were fade,

  And oueral enker-grene. 150

  Ande al grayþed in grene þis gome and his wedes:

  A strayte cote ful streзt, þat stek on his sides,

  A meré mantile abof, mensked withinne

  With pelure pured apert, þe pane ful clene

  With blyþe blaunner ful bryзt, and his hod boþe, 155

  Þat watz laзt fro his lokkez and layde on his schulderes;

  Heme wel-haled hose of þat same,

  Þat spenet on his sparlyr, and clene spures vnder

  Of bryзt golde, vpon silk bordes barred ful ryche,

  And scholes vnder schankes þere þe schalk rides; 160

  And alle his vesture uerayly watz clene verdure,

  Boþe þe barres of his belt and oþer blyþe stones,

  Þat were richely rayled in his aray clene

  Aboutte hymself and his sadel, vpon silk werkez.

  Þat were to tor for to telle of tryfles þe halue 165

  Þat were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes and flyзes,

  With gay gaudi of grene, þe golde ay inmyddes.

  Þe pendauntes of his payttrure, þe proude cropure,

  His molaynes, and alle þe metail anamayld was þenne,

  Þe steropes þat he stod on stayned of þe same, 170

  And his arsounz al after and his aþel skyrtes,

  Þat euer glemered and glent al of grene stones;

  Þe fole þat he ferkkes on fyn of þat ilke, sertayn,

  A grene hors gret and þikke, 175

  A stede ful stif to strayne,

  But more than anything

  His color amazed them:

  A bold knight riding,

  The whole of him bright green.

  And all in green this knight and his garments

  With a close-fitting coat that clung to his side,

  A fine robe over it adorned on the inside

  With furs cut to one color, an elegant lining

  Trimmed brightly with white fur, and his hood also

  That was caught back from his long locks and lay on his shoulders;

  Neat, tight-tailored hose of that same green