And home anon they bring;
And there Sir Gawaine he her wed,
And married her with a ring.
And when they were in wed-bed laid,
And all were done away:
‘Come turn to me, my own wed-lord,
Come turn to me I pray.’
Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,
For sorrow and for care;
When, lo! instead of that loathly dame,
He saw a young lady fair.
Sweet blushes stained her rud-red cheek,
Her eyen was black as sloe;
The ripening cherry swelled her lip,
And all her neck was snow.
Sir Gawaine kissed that lady fair,
Lying upon the sheet:
And swore, as he was a true knight,
The spice was never so sweet.
Sir Gawaine kissed that lady bright,
Lying there by his side:
‘The fairest flower is not so fair:
Thou never canst be my bride.’
‘I am thy bride, mine own dear lord,
The same which thou didst know,
That was so loathly, and was wont
Upon the wild moor to go.
Now, gentle Gawaine, choose,’ quoth she,
‘And make thy choice with care;
Whether by night, or else by day,
Shall I be foul or fair?’
‘To have thee foul still in the night,
When I with thee should play!
I had rather far, my lady dear,
To have thee foul by day.’
‘What, when gay ladies go with their lords
To drink the ale and wine;
Alas! then I must hide myself,
I must not go with mine!’
‘My fair lady,’ Sir Gawaine said,
‘I yield me to thy skill;
Because thou art mine own lady
Thou shalt have all thy will.’
‘Now blessed be thou, sweet Gawaine,
And the day that I thee see;
For as thou seest me at this time.
So shall I ever be.
My father was an aged knight.
And yet it chanced so.
He took to wife a false lady.
Which brought me to this woe.
She witched me, being a fair young maid,
In the green forest to dwell;
And there to abide in loathly shape,
Most like a fiend of hell.
Midst moors and mosses, woods, and wilds.
To lead a lonesome life;
Till some young fair and courtly knight
Would marry me to his wife:
Nor fully to gain mine own true shape,
(Such was her devilish skill)
Until he would yield to be ruled by me.
And let me have all my will.
She witched my brother to a carlish boor,
And made him stiff and strong;
And built him a bower on magic ground.
To live by rapine and wrong.
But now the spell is broken through.
And wrong is turned to right;
Henceforth I shall be a fair lady,
And he be a gentle knight.’
The Book of English Folk Tales Page 41
