Chapter 3
Romances
The romance is one of the most important and distinctive literary forms in the Middle Ages. ‘Romance’ is a French word, and as a literary form it developed in French courts and literary circles; although the antecedents of medieval romance go back to the Greek romance. French romances could certainly be genuinely ‘courtly’, as in the twelfth-century poems of Chrétien de Troyes, but they were not all an exclusively élite form of literature: underneath the elegant narratives we can sometimes discern folktale patterns and motifs. Marie de France says that some of her sophisticated lais are related to ancient Breton stories. Even in medieval France we begin to feel that ‘courtly’ and ‘popular’ are terms which do not denote totally self-contained and mutually exclusive categories but, rather more vaguely, points on a continuous spectrum. This seems even more likely when we turn to Middle English romance, where many examples have survived, quite a few of them from French originals.
There is here a substantial body of what is commonly called ‘popular’ romance, probably one step away from the lost orally transmitted (sometimes orally created) romances of the minstrels, sometimes inheriting or imitating their stylistic patterns like a formulaic but expressive diction. Chaucer’s own tale of Sir Thopas is a brilliant burlesque of popular romances. It has a number of their common characteristics: division into ‘fits’ or sections each beginning with a call to attention; sudden, sometimes melodramatic, events and adventures (here involving an ‘elfqueene’ and a giant, Sir Olifaunt); very simple formulaic diction. Chaucer’s burlesque produces a narrative which is exquisitely awful, and is broken off by the Host with a remark about doggerel. However, the burlesque is not completely destructive. The popular romances and their shortcomings are lost to sight in a cloud of joyously impossible comedy. We are left with the strong feeling that Chaucer secretly loved these romances: he certainly has a detailed knowledge of them, and alludes to several (for example, Guy of Warwick). And in fact, most of the surviving popular romances are not as awful as Sir Thopas. They show distinct signs of literary quality, and the whole corpus reveals a remarkable variety. Some would find a place at one end or other of our spectrum. Emaré, with its repetitions and formulae, seems close to the ‘oral’ pole, whereas one has to look very closely at the Auchinleck copy of Sir Orfeo in order to see the formulae, which have been skilfully worked into a polished narrative style. Again in popular romances we find echoes of folktale motifs and patterns: Cinderella-type stories, for instance. Some have connections with later ballads (though the details of any connection often remain mysterious); and the occasional romance in quatrains, like The Knight of Curtesy (which uses the legend of the ‘eaten heart’) or Thomas of Erceldoune (clearly related to Thomas the Rhymer), sometimes sound like long ballads. Like the early outlaw ballads (see Chapter 2), most of these romances have a direct, formulaic and expressive style, often more impressive in the hearing, rather than in reading on the page. Typically, too, most share a liking for simple stanza forms, like couplets or the common twelve-line tail-rhyme stanza.
In order to illustrate briefly the variety of this extensive body of literature, I have decided to opt for extracts — two longer ones from Havelok and Sir Orfeo, romances admired by critics — and a series of shorter examples from less well-known works, which illustrate their treatment of individual scenes or dramatic moments in the narrative (many of them showing mortals in eerie and perilous situations). Adventures are an important and central feature of the romance, whether sophisticated and ‘literary’ or ‘popular’.
i) Havelok
A romance of just over three thousand lines, written probably in the late thirteenth century, or possibly at the beginning of the fourteenth. Havelock story material was in circulation earlier: in the Anglo-Norman chronicler Gaimar’s Estoire (c. 1135–40) and in the French Lai d’Havelok (c. 1190–c. 1220) which is based on Gaimar. The Middle English romance is remarkable for its realism and for its interest in the lives of humbler folk. The parallel stories of Havelock and Goldeboru are well told. The author has been called ‘an unobtrusively sophisticated writer’.
(a) King Ethelwold of England dies, leaving his daughter Goldeboru in the protection of Godrich, the Earl of Cornwall. The Danish king Birkabeyn also dies, and leaves his son Havelock in the protection of Earl Godard. Both protectors are treacherous. Godard seizes the throne of Denmark and imprisons Havelok and his sisters … [vv. 447–80]
To the tour ther heº woren sperde,º
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they / shut up
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Ther he gretenº for hunger and cold.
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wept
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The knave,º that was somdelº bold,
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boy / quite
|
Kam him ageyn,º on knes him sette,
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to meet him
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And Godard ful feyreº he ther grette.º
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courteously / greeted
|
And Godard seyde, ‘Wat is yw?º
|
what is the matter with you?
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Hwi grete ye and goulenº nou?’
|
howl
|
‘For us hungreth swithe sore,’º
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because we are very hungry
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Seyden he, ‘we wolden more,
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We ne have to hete, ne we ne have
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Herinne neyther knith ne knaveº
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knight nor servant
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That yeveth us drinken, ne no mete,
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Halvendelº that we mounº ete.
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half / can
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Wo is us that we weren born!
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Weilawei,º nis it no kornº
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alas! / is there no corn
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That men micteº maken of bred?
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could
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Us hungreth, we aren neyº ded.’
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almost
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Goderd herde here wa;º
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misery
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Therof yaf he nouth a stra.º
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not a straw
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But tok the maydnes bothe samen,º
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together
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Also it were upon his gamen,º
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sport
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Also he woldeº with hem leyke,º
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as if he wished / play
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That weren for hunger grene and bleike;º
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pale and sickly
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Of bothen he karfº on two here throtes,
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cut
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And sithenº hem al to grotes.º
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then / small pieces
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Ther was sorwe, wosoº it sawe,
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whoever
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Hwan the children bi the waweº
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wall
|
Leyen and sprauledenº in the blod;
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lay and sprawled
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Havelok it saw, and therbi stod.
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Ful sori was that seli knave.º
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innocent boy
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Mikel dredº he moutheº have,
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great fear / might well
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For at hise herte he saw a knif
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Forto revenº him hise lyf.
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deprive
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(b) Godard hands over Havelock to Grim, a fisherman, and orders him to be killed. However, Grim sees a wonderful light shining from the boy’s mouth, and a royal birthmark, and realises he is the destined king; he flees with him and his own family to England, settling at the mouth of the Humber, where Grimsby now stands. As Havelock grows up, he realizes how difficult life is for Grim. [vv. 785–862]
Thusgateº Grim him fayre ledde;
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in this way
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Him and his gengeº wel he fedde
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household
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Wel tweif winter otherº more.
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or
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Havelok was war that Grim swankº sore
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toiled
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For his mete, and he lay at hom;
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Thouthe: ‘Ich am nou no gromº
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child
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Ich am wel waxenº and wel may eten
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grown
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More than evere Grim may geten.
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Ich ete more, bi God on live,
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Than Grim an his children five!
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It may nouth ben thus longe.
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Goddot,º y wile with the gange,º
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God knows / go
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Forto lerenº sum gode to gete;º
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learn / win
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Swinken ich wolde for mi mete.
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It is no shame forto swinken;
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The man may wel eten and drinken
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That nouth ne have but on swink long.º
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in proportion to his work
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To liggenº at hom it is ful strong.º
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lie / disgraceful
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God yeldeº him, ther I ne may,
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reward
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That haveth me fed to this day.
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Gladlike I wile the panieres bere;
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Ich woth ne shal it me nouth dere,º
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harm
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Theyº ther be inne a birthene gret,º
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although / great burden
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Alsoº hevi as a neth.º
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as / ox
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Shal ich nevere lengere dwelle;º
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delay
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Tomorwen shal Ich forth pelle.’º
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hasten
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On the morwen, hwan it was day,
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He stirt upº sone and nouthº ne lay,
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leapt up / did not
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And cast a panier on his bac,
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With fish giveledº als a stac,º
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heaped up / haystack
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Also michelº he bar him oneº
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much / by himself
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So heº foure, bi mine mone.º
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as if he were / opinion
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Wel he it bar, and solde it wel.
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The silver he brouthe hom il del.º
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in full
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Al that he therefore tok;
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Withheld he nouth a ferthinges nok.º
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a fraction of a farthing
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So yede he forth ilke day,
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That he nevere at home lay,
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So wolde he his mesterº lere.º
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trade / learn
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Bifelº it so, a strong dereº
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happened / severe shortage
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Bigan to rise of korn ofº bred,
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for
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That Grim ne couthe no god redº
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way
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Hwº he sholde his meineº fede.
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how / household
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Ofº Havelok havede he michel drede,º
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for / fear
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For he was strong, and wel mouthe ete
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More thanne hevereº mouthe be gete,º
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ever / obtained
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Ne he ne mouthe on the se take
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Neyther lengeº ne thornbake,º
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ling / skate
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Ne non other fish that douthe,º
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was of value
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His meyne feden with he mouthe.º
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with which he could feed
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Of Havelok he havede kare,º
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anxiety
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Hwilgatº that he micthe fare;
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how
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Of his children was him nouth,º
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not at all
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On Havelok was al his thouth,
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And seyde, ‘Havelok, dere sone,
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I wene that we deye moneº
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must die
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For hunger, this dereº is so strong,
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famine
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And hure mete is uteº long.
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exhausted
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Betere is that thu henne gongeº
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go hence
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Than thu here dwelle longe;
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Hethenº thou mayt gangen to late.º
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from here / too late
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Thou canst ful wel the ricthe gateº
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direct road
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To Lincolne, the gode borw;º
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town
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Thou havest it gon ful ofte thoru.
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Of me ne is me nouth a slo.
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Betere is that thu thider go,
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For ther is mani god man inne;
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Ther thou mayt thi mete winne.
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But wo is me thou art so naked!
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Of mi seyl y wolde the were maked
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A cloth thou mithest inne gongen,º
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travel
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Sone, no cold that thu ne fonge,’º
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catch
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He toke the sheres ofº the nayl.
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from
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And made him a couel of the sayl,
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cloak
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And Havelok dide it soneº on;
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at once
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Havede neyther hosen ne shon,º
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stockings nor shoes
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Ne none kines other wede;º
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any other sort of garment
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To Lincolne barfot he yede.º
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went
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(c) In England the traitor Godrich, who has promised a fine marriage for Goldeboru, is determined to end her claim to the English throne. Havelock, now a strong young man, has found work in Lincoln, and becomes a scullion in Godrich’s household. Godrich marries Goldeboru to the supposed scullion. Her sorrow is ended by a supernatural sight. [vv. 1247–74]
On the nith,º als Goldeborw lay,
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in the night
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Sory and sorwful was she ay,º
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ever
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For she wendeº she were biswike,º
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thought / tricked
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That she [we]re yevenº unkyndelike.º
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given / beneath her station
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O nith saw she therinne a lithº
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light
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A swithe fayr, a swathe bryth,º
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very bright
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Also brith, also shir,º
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radiant
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So it were a blaseº of fir.
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flame
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She lokede north and ek south,
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And saw it comen out of his mouth
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That lay bi hire in the bed;
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No ferlikeº thou she were adred!º
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wonder / afraid
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Thouthe she, ‘Wat may this bimene?º
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signify
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He beth heymanº yet, als y wene;
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will be a lord
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He beth heyman erº he be ded.’
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before
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On hise shuldre of gold red
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She saw a swithe noble croiz.º
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cross
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Of an angel she herd a voyz,
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‘Goldeborw, lat thi sorwe be,
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For Havelok, that haveth spuset the,º
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married thee
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Is kings sone and kings eyr;º
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heir
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That bikennethº that croyz so fayr.
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demonstrates
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It bikenneth more, that he shal
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Denemark havenº and Englond al;
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possess
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He shal ben king strong and starkº
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mighty
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That shalt thu wit thin eyne sen,
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And thou shalt quen and levedi ben.’
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Eventually, Grim takes Havelock and Goldborough to Denmark, where Havelock is recognised as the destined king by Earl Ubbe. He defeats Godard, becomes king of Denmark, then goes back to England where he defeats Godrich and becomes king of England.
ii) Sir Orfeo
The story of Orpheus and Eurydice was a favourite in the Middle Ages. The happy ending given to it here is not unique. Possibly Celtic stories also lie in the background (cf. the Irish tale of the Wooing of Etainn), and stories of the recovery of mortals from the otherworld or of those taken by the fairies. The Middle English romance was probably written in the later thirteenth century or the early fourteenth. This story, and other popular Orpheus stories, lived on — into a Scottish romance and a Shetland ballad recorded in the nineteenth century (Child No. 19). There is a reference to a French ‘lai d’Orphey’, but this has not survived. This romance is remarkable for its sensitivity to human emotion, its insistence on the virtues of faithfulness and courage, and its narrative skill. For all its literary art, it has many of the characteristics of popular romance. Interestingly, though Orfeo is a ‘heigh lording’, he is also a minstrel (we are given some details of performance in vv. 25 ff, 267 ff, 361 ff).
(a) Orfeo, a king and a great harper, is married to the beautiful Heurodis. One day at the beginning of May she goes out with her maidens, and falls asleep under a tree. When she awakes she shows signs of a terrible distress. Taken back to her chamber, she describes how in her sleep she was visited by a large company of mysterious knights and ladies, and was commanded by their king to return to the tree on the following day; if she offers any resistance she will be torn apart, and still carried off. The next day Orfeo with a body of men escorts her to the tree. But she is snatched away ‘with fairy forth ynume’. Orfeo is distraught, and decides to go alone into the wilderness, leaving his kingdom in the care of his steward … [vv. 219–330]
Tho was ther wepeing in the halle,
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And grete cri among hem alle;
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Unnetheº might old or yong
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scarcely
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For wepeing speke a word with tong.
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Thai kneled adoun al yfere,º
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together
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And praid him, yif his wille were,
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That he no schuld nought fram hem go.
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‘Do way,’º quath he, ‘it schal be so.’
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Enough!
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Al his kingdome he forsoke;
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Bot a sclavinº on him he toke.
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pilgrim’s cloak
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He no hadde kirtel no hode,º
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kirtle nor hood
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Schert [no] non other gode,º
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belongings
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But his harp he toke algateº
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at any rate
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And dede himº barfot out atte yate;º
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went / at the gate
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O way!º What ther was wepe and wo,
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Alas!
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Whan he that hadde ben king with croun
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Went so poverlichº out of toun.
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in such poor array
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Thurth wode and over hethº
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heath
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Into the wildernes he geth.
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Nothing he fintº that him is ays,º
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finds / comfort
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Bot ever he liveth in gret malaise.
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He that hadde ywerdº the fowe and griis
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worn
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And on bed the purpur biis;º
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fine linen
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Now on hard hethe he lith;
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With leves and gresse he him writh.º
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covers
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He that hadde had castels and tours,
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River, forest, frith with flours,º
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woodland with flowers
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Now, theiº it comenci to snewe and frees,º
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though / freeze
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This king mot make his bed in mese.º
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moss
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He that had yhad knightes of priisº
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of value
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Bifor him kneland, and levedis,º
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ladies
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Now sethº he nothing that he liketh,
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sees
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But wilde wormesº bi him striketh.º
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serpents / glide
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Of mete and drink, of ich deynte,º
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every delicacy
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Now may he aldayº digge and wroteº
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all day long / grub
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Er he finde his fille of rote.º
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roots
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In somer he liveth bi wild frut
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And berien bot gode lite;º
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very little
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In winter may he nothing finde
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Bot rote, grases and the rinde.º
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bark
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Al his bodi was oway duineº
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wasted away
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For missays,º and al tochine;º
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discomfort / scarred
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His here of his berd, blac and rowe,º
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rough
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To his girdelstedeº was growe.
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waist
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Lord! who may telle the soreº
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distress
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This king sufferd ten yere and more?
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His harp, whereon was al his gle,º
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minstrelsy
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He hidde in an holwe tre,
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And when the weder was clere and bright,
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He toke his harp to him wel right,
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And harped at his owhenº wille,
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own
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In alle the wode the soun gan schille,º
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resound
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That alle the wilde bestes that ther bethº
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are
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For joie abouten him thai teth,º
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come
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And alle the foules that ther were
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Come and sete on ich a brereº
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twig
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To here his harping affine,º
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to the end
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So miche melody was therin.
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And when he his harping leteº wold,
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leave
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No best bi him abide nold.º
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would not
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Oft in hot undertidesº
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noon times
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The king o fairy with his routº
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company
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With dim cri and bloweing,
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And houndes also with him berking;
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Ac no best thai no nome,º
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caught
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No never he nistº whider thai bicome.º
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knew not / went
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And other while he might him se
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As a gret ost bi him te,º
|
come
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Wele atourned,º ten hundred knightes,
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equipped
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Ich yarmed to his rightes,º
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properly
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Of cuntenaunceº stoutº and fers,
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appearance / strong
|
With mani desplaid baners,
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And ich his swerd ydraweº hold;
|
drawn
|
Ac never he nist whider thai wold.º
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would go
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And other while he seiye other thing:
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Knightes and levedis com daunceing
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In queyntº attire, gisely,º
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elegant / skilfully
|
Tabours and trunpesº yede hem bi,º
|
drums and trumpets / beside
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And al maner menstraci.º
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minstrelsy
|
And on a day he seiye him biside
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Sexti levedis on hors ride,
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Gentil and jolifº as brid on ris;º
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merry / spray
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Nought o man amonges hem ther nis.º
|
is not
|
And ich a faucon on hond bere,
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And riden on haukin bi o rivere.
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Of game thai founde wel gode haunt,º
|
plenty
|
Maulardes,º hayrounº and cormeraunt.
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mallards / heron
|
The foules of the water ariseth;
|
The faucons hem wele deviseth;º
|
aim at
|
Ich faucon his pray slough.º
|
slew
|
That seiye Orfeo, and lough:º
|
laughed
|
‘Parfay,’º quath he, ‘ther is fair game.
|
Indeed
|
Thider ichil,º bi Godes name;
|
I will go
|
Ich was ywonº swiche werk to se.’
|
accustomed
|
He aros and thider gan te.º
|
went
|
To a levedi he was ycome,
|
Biheld, and hath wel undernomeº
|
realised
|
And seth bi al thing that it is
|
His owhen quen, dam Heurodis.
|
Yernº he beheld hir and sche him eke,º
|
eagerly / also
|
Acº neither to other a word no speke.
|
but
|
For messais that sche on him seiye
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That had ben so riche and so heiye,
|
The teres fel out of her eiye.
|
The other levedis this yseiye.
|
And maked hir oway to ride;
|
Sche most with him no lenger abide.
|
(b) But the determined Orfeo takes up his harp and rides after the ladies, into a rock. He finds himself in a beautiful land with a fine castle. Introducing himself as a minstrel he enters, and plays for the king, who is entranced by his music. [vv. 435–74]
Bifor the king he sat adoun,
|
And tok his harp so miri of soun,
|
And temprethº it as he wele can,
|
tunes
|
And blisseful notes he ther gan.º
|
began
|
That al that in the palays were
|
And liggethº adoun to his fete,
|
lie
|
Hem thenketh his melody so swete.
|
The king herkneth and sitt ful stille
|
To here his gleº he hath gode wille.
|
music
|
Gode bourdeº he hadde of his gle;
|
enjoyment
|
The riche quen also hadde he.º
|
she
|
When he hadde stintº his harping,
|
ceased
|
Than seyd to him the king,
|
‘Menstrel, me liketh wele thi gle.
|
Now aske of me whatº it be;
|
whatever
|
Largelich ichilº the pay.
|
generously I will
|
Now speke, and tow might assay.’º
|
put it to the test
|
‘Sir,’ he seyd, ‘ich biseche the
|
That ichº levedi bright on bleº
|
same / complexion
|
That slepeth under the ympetre.’º
|
orchard tree
|
‘Nay,’ quath the king, ‘that nought nere.º
|
could not be
|
A sori couple of you it were,
|
For thou art lene, roweº and blac,
|
rough
|
And sche is lovesum,º withouten lac;º
|
beautiful / blemish
|
A lothlichº thing it were forthiº
|
hateful / therefore
|
To sen hir in thi compayni.’
|
‘O sir,’ he seyd, ‘gentil king,
|
Yete it were a wele fouler thing
|
To here a lesingº of thi mouthe.
|
falsehood
|
So, sir, as ye seyd nouthe,º
|
just now
|
What ich wold aski have y schold,
|
And nedes thou most thi word hold.’
|
The king seyd, ‘Sethen it is so,
|
Take hir bi the hond and go,
|
Of hir ichil thatow be blithe.’º
|
happy
|
He kneled adoun and thonked him swathe.º
|
greatly
|
His wiif he tok bi the hond,
|
And dede him swathe outº of that lond.
|
went quickly
|
Disguised as a minstrel ‘of poor life’ he takes Heurodis with him back to his own city. He plays before the steward, who recognises his harp. He reveals his identity, is restored to his kingdom, and after his death the faithful steward becomes king.
iii) Emaré
A simple romance, with direct style, repetitions, and formulae, perhaps suggesting it is not too far removed from oral storytelling; but one which it is easy to underestimate. With its symmetrical plot it tells a ‘pitous’ story of a suffering woman, a calumniated queen. It is a ‘test’ story; it has similarities with the Constance story (Chaucer’s Man of Law’s Tale, Gower’s tale of Constance) or Chaucer’s story of Griselda. Behind it lies the folk tale of the ‘Maiden without Hands’. Emaré’s wonderful garment, a present from the ‘riche kynge of Cesile’ may have originally been a fairy present.
(a) Emaré, the beautiful daughter of the emperor Artyrus, excites the passion of her father. When she refuses his incestuous desire, he has her cast out in a rudderless boat, clad in a robe of rich, gold, ornamented cloth. Her boat is blown far away by the wind; the emperor repents, but it is too late … [vv. 313–60]
The lady fletedº forth alone.
|
floated
|
To God of heven she made her moneº
|
lament
|
She was driven wyth wynde and rayn
|
Wyth stronge stormes her agayn,º
|
against
|
Of the watur so blo.º
|
dark
|
As y have herd menstrelles syng yn sawe,º
|
tales
|
Hows nyº lond myghth she non knowe,º
|
nor / make out
|
Aferdº she was to go.
|
afraid
|
She was so driven fro wawe to wawe
|
She hyd her hede and lay full lowe,
|
Forº watyr she was full woo.º
|
because of / in great misery
|
Now this lady dwelled thore
|
A good sevennyghth and more,
|
Wyth carefullº herte and sykyngº sore,
|
sorrowful / sighing
|
Such sorrow was here yarkedº yore,º
|
destined for / long ago
|
She was driven ynto a lond,
|
Thorow the grace of Goddes sond,º
|
dispensation
|
That all thing may fulfylle.
|
She was on the see so harde bestadde,º
|
beset
|
For hungur and thurste almost madde:
|
Woo worth wederus yll!º
|
a curse on bad storms
|
She was dryven into a lond
|
That hyghthº Galys, y unthurstond:
|
was called
|
The kyngus steward dwelled ther bysyde,º
|
nearby
|
In a kastell of mykyll pryde:º
|
much splendour
|
And take wth hym a sqwyer or two,
|
On a tyme he toke the eyr
|
Wyth two knyghtus gode and fayr;
|
The wedur was lythe of le.º
|
calm and peaceful
|
A bootº he fond by the brymº
|
boat / edge
|
And a glysteryng thing theryn:
|
Therof they hadde ferly.º
|
wonder
|
They went forth on the sond
|
sand
|
To the boot, y unthurstond,
|
And fond theryn that lady.
|
She hadde so longe metelesº be
|
without food
|
That hym thowht gret deleº to se;
|
distress
|
She was yn poyn[t] to dye.º
|
at the point of death
|
They askede her what was her name;
|
She changed hyt ther anone,º
|
at once
|
And seyde she hetteº Egaré.
|
was called
|
(b) Sir Kadore cares for her, and his king falls in love with her and marries her. They live happily for a time, and while the king is away fighting she bears a son, Segramour. A letter to him from Sir Kadore, telling him of this, is intercepted by the king’s wicked mother who hates Egaré/Emaré. Another letter is substituted, saying that her offspring was a devil. The king laments, but sends a letter saying that she should be well cared for. This too is intercepted by his mother and replaced with another saying that she should be cast out on the sea with her child and her splendid robe. The steward is unable to prevent this, and the two are cast adrift. [vv. 637–708]
Then was ther sorrow and myche woo,
|
When the lady to shype shuldeº go;
|
had to
|
They wepte and wronge her hondus.
|
The lady that was meke and mylde
|
In her arme she bar her chylde,
|
And toke leve of the londe.
|
When she wente ynto the see
|
In that robe of riche ble,
|
Men sowenedº on the sonde.º
|
swooned / sand
|
Sore they wepte and sayde, ‘Alas,
|
Certys thys ys a wykked kase.º
|
event
|
Wo worth dedes wronge!’º
|
evil deeds
|
The lady and the lytyll chylde
|
Fleted forth on the watur wylde,
|
Wyth full harde happes.º
|
misfortunes
|
Her surkoteº that was large and wyde,
|
robe
|
Therwith her visage she gan hyde,
|
Wyth the hynthur lappes;º
|
back folds
|
She was aferde of the see
|
And layde her grufº uponn a tre,º
|
face down / beam
|
The chylde to her pappes.º
|
breasts
|
The wawes that were grete and strong
|
On the bote faste they thronge,
|
Wyth mony unseemly rappes.º
|
blows
|
And when the chyld gan to wepe
|
Wyth sory herte she songe hyt aslepe
|
And putte the pappe yn hys mowth.
|
And syde, ‘Myghth y onus geteº lond,
|
get to
|
Of the watur that ys so stronge.º
|
severe
|
Wele owth y to waryeº the, see,
|
ought I to curse
|
I have myche shame yn the!’
|
And evur she lay and growth.º
|
lamented
|
To Jesu and hys modur dere,
|
Now thys lady dwelled thore
|
A full sevenenyght and more,
|
Wyth karefull herte and sykyng sore,
|
Such sorrow was her yarked yore,
|
She was driven toward Rome,
|
Thorow the grace of God yn trone,º
|
throne
|
That all thing may fulfylle.
|
On the see she was so harde bestadde,
|
For hungur and thurste allmost madde,
|
Wo worth chawnses ylle!º
|
evil events
|
A marchaunte dw[el]led yn that cyte.
|
A ryche mon of gold and fee.º
|
property
|
Go to playe hym by the see,
|
The eyer forto tane,º
|
air to take
|
He wente forth yn that tyde,º
|
time
|
Walkynge by the see sy[d]e,
|
A bote he fonde by the brymme
|
And a fayr lady therynne,
|
The cloth on her shon so bryth
|
He was aferde of that sight,
|
For glysteryng of that wede;º
|
garment
|
And yn hys herte he thowghth rightº
|
thought indeed
|
That she was non erdyly wyght;
|
He sawe nevur non such yn leede.º
|
the world
|
He sayde, ‘What hette ye,º fayr ladye?’
|
is your name
|
‘Lord,’ she sayde, ‘y hette Egarye,
|
That lye her yn drede.’º
|
fear
|
Up he toke that fayre ladye
|
And the yonge chylde her by,
|
[Jurdan and his wife care for her, and Segramour grows up. In a final scene, Emaré is at last reunited with her husband and her father, who have come to Rome to do penance.]
|
iv) Octavian
Written perhaps in the first half of the fourteenth century, Octavian tells the story (widespread in Europe) of another calumniated woman and her sons, stolen by wild creatures.
Florence, wife of the emperor Octavian, bears twin sons (Florentyn and Octavian). Thanks to the hostility of a cruel mother-in-law she and her babies are driven out into the forest, and both children are carried off by animals. [vv. 325–84]
Be that sche had hur children dyght,º
|
made ready
|
Hyt was woxeº derke nyght,
|
become
|
As sche sate be the welle;
|
In the erberº downe sche lay
|
grassy spot among trees
|
Tyll hyt was dawning of the day
|
That fowlysº herde sche yelle.º
|
birds / cry
|
There came an ape to seke hur pray;
|
Hur oon chylde sche bare away
|
What wondur was, thogh sche were woo?
|
The ape bar the chylde hur fro!
|
In swownyng downe sche felle.
|
In all the sorowe that sche in was,
|
There come rennyng a lyenas,º
|
lioness
|
Os wode as sche wolde wede;º
|
as frenzied as if she would go mad
|
In swownyng as the lady lay,
|
Hur wodurº chylde sche bare away,
|
other
|
Hur whelpysº wyth to fede.
|
cubs
|
What wondur was thogh sche wooº ware?
|
in misery
|
The wylde beestys hur chyldyr away bare;
|
For sorowe hur herte can blede,
|
The lady sett hur on a stone
|
Besyde the welle and made hur mone,
|
And syghyng forthe sche yede.
|
There came a fowle that was feyre of flightº
|
beautiful in flight
|
(A gryffyn he was callyd be right)
|
Ovyr the holtys hore;º
grey woods
|
|
The fowle was so moche of mightº
|
great in strength
|
That he wolde bare a knight
|
Well armyd thogh he ware.º
|
even though he were
|
The lyenas wyth the chylde up toke he
|
And into an yle of the see
|
The chylde slept in the lyenas mowthe;
|
Of wele nor woº nothing hyt knowyth,
|
good fortune or misery
|
But God kepe hyt from care!
|
Whan the lyenas had a fote on londe,º
|
the ground
|
Hastyly sche can upstonde,º
|
reared up
|
As a beste that was stronge and wylde.
|
Thorow Goddys grace the gryffyn she slowe
|
And sythen ete of the flesche ynoweº
|
plenty
|
And leyde hur downe beº the chylde.
|
by
|
The chylde sokeº the lyenas,
|
suckled from
|
Whan hyt the pappysº feled;º
|
teats / felt
|
And when the lyenas began to wake,
|
Sche lovyd the chylde for hur whelpys sake
|
And therwyth sche was full mylde.º
|
peaceful
|
Wyth hur fete sche made a denne
|
And leyde the lytull chylde theryn
|
And kepteº hyt day and nyght;
|
guarded
|
And when the lyenas hungurd sore,
|
Sche ete of the gryffyn more,
|
That afore was stronge and wyght.
|
As hyt was Goddes owne wylle,
|
The lyenas belafteº the chylde style:º
|
left / at peace
|
The chylde was feyre and bright.
|
The lady sett hur on a stone,
|
Besyde the welle and made hur mone
|
As a wofull wyght.º
|
creature
|
[After many adventures, the brothers, now proven warriors, are reunited and the mother-in-law is burnt.]
|
v) Sir Gowther
This romance, dated around 1375 in Mills, is a version of the widespread legend of Robert the Devil, in which a young child, begotten by a devil, finds salvation after a disorderly and sinful youth.
A duke and his wife have been married for ten years, but have no child. In desperation the wife prays for a child by any means … [vv. 58–81]
Tho lade sykudº and made yll chere,º
|
sighed / was unhappy
|
That all feyledº hur whyte lere,º
|
grew dull / white face
|
For shu conseyvyd noght,º
|
had not conceived
|
Scho preyd to God and Mare mylde
|
Schuld gyffe hur grace to have a chyld,
|
On what maner scho ne roghth.º
|
did not care
|
In hur orchard, apon a day,
|
Ho meytº a man, tho sothe to say,
|
she met
|
That hur of luffe besoghth;º
|
besought
|
As lykeº hur lorde as he might be —
|
similar
|
He leyd hur down under a tre,
|
With hur isº wyll he wroghtth.º
|
his / took
|
When he had is wylle all don,
|
A felturd fendeº he start up son,
|
shaggy fiend
|
And stode and hur beheld.
|
He seyd, ‘Y have geytonº a chylde on the
|
begotten
|
That in is yothe full wylde schall bee
|
And weppons wyghtly weld.’º
|
powerfully wield
|
Scho blessyd hurº and fro hym ran;
|
crossed herself
|
Into hur chambur fast ho wan,º
|
came
|
That was so bygly byld;º
|
strongly made
|
Scho seyd to hur lord, that lade myld,
|
‘Tonyght we monº geyt chyld,
|
must
|
That schall owre londus weld.’º
|
rule
|
The boy, Gowther, grows up to be a very strong and very ‘wild’ young man who terrorises everyone in the neighbourhood. His supposed father dies of sorrow. When he is called ‘a devil’s son’ by an earl, Gowther forces his mother to tell the story of his conception. He goes to Rome, and begins a life of penitence as ‘Hob the Fool’. He rescues the emperor’s daughter from the Saracens, is recognised by her, and marries her. He is absolved by the Pope, becomes the ruler of Almayne, and is venerated as a saint.
vi) Chevelere Assigne
A fourteenth-century century romance in alliterative long lines. It is a version of the Swan-Knight legend (cf. Lohengrin, the son of Parzival in German romance); though it is not here associated, as it often was from the late twelfth century, with the name of Godfrey of Bouillon, one of the leaders of the First Crusade.
An episode in which the innocent young knight Enyas (Helyas, in other Middle English stories) is instructed in the art and method of single combat. The scene is treated with a touching and attractive comedy (as in some scenes in the English William of Palerne). Bewtrys (Beatrice), wife of king Oriens of Lyon, is delivered of six sons and a daughter, born simultaneously, each with a silver chain around the neck. Her wicked mother-in-law, Matabryne, orders her man Markus to drown the children, but out of pity he spares them and leaves them in the forest, where they are reared by a hermit. But Malkedras, a wicked forester, sees them, and tells Matabryne who sends him to kill them and bring her the silver rings from their necks. He finds six children; the seventh, Enyas, has gone into the forest with the hermit in search of food. When the chains are cut, the six children become swans, and fly to a nearby river. Matabryne wishes that Beatrice should be burnt, but the young Enyas offers to fight on her behalf: he must do battle with Malkedras. [vv. 287–313]
A knyghte kawghte hym by the honde, and ladde hym of the rowte.
|
‘What beeste is this,’ quod the child, ‘that I shall on hove?’º
|
ride
|
‘Hit is called an hors,’ quod the knyghte, ‘a good and an abull.’º
|
useful
|
‘Why eteth he yren?’º quod the chylde, ‘Wyll he ete noghth elles?
|
iron
|
And what is that on his bakke, of byrthe or on bounden?’º
|
from birth, or fastened
|
‘Nay, that in his mowth men callen a brydell,
|
And that a sadell on his bakke, that thou shalt in sytte.’
|
‘And what hevy kyrtellº is this with holes so thykke,
|
coat
|
And this holowe onº on my hede? I may not here.’º
|
hollow one / hear
|
‘An helme men kallen that on and an hawberkeº that other.’
|
coat of mail
|
‘But what broode on is this on my breste? Hit berethº adown my nekke.’
|
weighs
|
‘A bryghte shelde and a sheene,º to shelde the fro strokes,’
|
shining
|
‘And what longe on is this that I shall up lyfte?’
|
‘Take that launce up in thyn honde, and lokeº thou hym hytte;
|
see that
|
And whenne that shafte is schyvered,º take scharpelyeº another.’
|
shattered / quickly
|
‘Ye, what yf grace be we to grownde wenden?’º
|
go
|
‘Aryse up lightly on the fete, and reste the no lengur.º
|
longer
|
And thenne plukke out thy swerde, and peleº on hym faste,
|
strike
|
Allwey eggelynges downº on all that thou fyndes.
|
edge downwards
|
His ryche helm nor his swerde rekkeº thou of neythur;º
|
care / neither
|
Lete the sharpe of thy swerde schreden hym small.’
|
‘But woll not he smyte ayeyne, whenne he feleth smerte?’
|
‘Yys, I knowe hym full wele, both keenly and faste.
|
Evur folowe thou on the flesh tyll thou haste hym falleth,º
|
felled him
|
And sythen smyte of his heede; I kan sey the no furre.’º
|
further
|
‘Now thou haste tawghte me,’ quod the childe, ‘God I the beteche;º
|
commend
|
For now I kan of the crafte more thenne I kowthe.’
|
Enyas overcomes Malkedras; Matabryne herself is burnt; Beatrice is released. Five chains are returned to the swans, who become human once more; the sixth child, who must remain a swan, laments bitterly. The others are baptised: ‘thus the botenynge of God browghte hem to honde.’
vii) The Turke and Gowin
A romance (probably written around 1500) which survives, in an incomplete form, in the mid-seventeenth century PFMS. Arthurian tales, and especially stories about Sir Gawain, often find their way into popular romance. The Percy Folio Grene Knight tells the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight; and others, like this, have similarities with that story.
A strange man — broad and shaped like a Turk — enters when Arthur is sitting at table, and asks for an exchange of buffets (compare Sir Gawain and the Green Knight). Gawain accepts the challenge. He accompanies the Turk, into a hill and to the castle of the king of Man, through a series of often fantastic adventures and tests of strength. At the end, the Turk, bearing a basin of gold, asks Gawain to cut his head off … [vv. 268–94]
… He tooke forth a bason of gold
|
As an emperour washe shold,
|
He tooke a sword of mettle free,º
|
noble metal
|
Saies, ‘If ever I did any thing for thee,
|
Doe for me in this stead;º
|
place
|
Take here this sword of steele
|
That in batell will bite weele,º
|
well
|
Therwith strike of my head.’
|
‘That I forefend!’º said Sir Gawaine,
|
forbid
|
‘For I wold not have thee slaine
|
For all the gold soe red.’
|
‘Have done, Sir Gawaine, I have no dread,
|
But in this bason let me bleed
|
That standeth here in this steed,
|
And thou shalt see a new play,
|
With helpe of Mary that mild ma[y]
|
That saved us from all dread.’
|
He drew forth the brandº of steele,
|
sword
|
That in battell bite wold weele,
|
And there stroke of his head.
|
And when the blood in the bason light,º
|
fell
|
He stood up a stalwortht knight
|
That day, I undertake,º
|
guarantee
|
And song, Te deum laudam[u]s.
|
Worshipp be to our lord Jesus
|
That saved us from all wracke!’º
|
disaster
|
They return to Arthur’s court, and the Turk, now Sir Gromer, a stalwart knight, is made king of Man.
viii) Sir Lambewell
Marie de France’s lai of Lanval survives in two Middle English versions: Sir Landevale (early fourteenth century) and Thomas Chestre’s Sir Launfal (later fourteenth). The former lives on in two popular versions. Sir Lambewell (632 lines, in PFMS) ia a good example of popular romance, which has probably passed through a series of copyists and retellers.
Lambewell is a young knight at Arthur’s court who is far from home and who has spent much of his wealth. In his distress he is helped by a fairy mistress, who in typical fashion imposes a taboo: he must not reveal her to anyone. But, taunted by Guinevere, he does. He is no longer visited by his mistress, and he is accused of slandering the queen. But just before the judges speak, his beautiful mistress rides into the town, with a sparrowhawk on her hand, and three white greyhounds running beside her … [vv. 523–38 & 600–30]
… Wife and child, yonge and old,
|
All came this lady to beholde,
|
And all still upon her gazing
|
As people that beheld the sacring;º
|
consecration of the Host
|
And all they stood still in their study,º
|
amazement
|
And yet they thought them never weary,
|
For there was never man nor woman that might
|
Be weary of this ladies sight.
|
As soone as Sir Lambwell did her see,
|
On all the people cryed hee
|
‘Yond comes my life and my liking!º
|
delight
|
Shee comes that me out of baileº shall bring!
|
torment
|
Yond comes my lemman,º I make you sure;
|
beloved
|
Treulie shee is the fairest creature
|
That ever man see before indeed,
|
Looke where shee rydes upon her steed!’ …
|
… Th[e] king and theº prayd, everyone;
|
they
|
But for all that ever he cold doe,
|
Not a word shee wold speake him too,
|
But obayd her to the king soe h[e]nd,º
|
courteous
|
And tooke her leave away to wend.
|
Then Lambewell saw that shee wold fare,º
|
go
|
His owne hart he tookeº to him there;
|
took courage
|
When shee turned her horse to have gone,
|
He leaped upon, sooneº anon,
|
immediately
|
Upon her palfray; whatsoever betide,
|
Behind her he wold not abide;
|
And he said, ‘Madam, with reason and skill
|
Now goe which way so ere you will,
|
For when you light downe, I shall stand.
|
And when you ryd, all at your hande,
|
And whether it be for waile or woeº
|
good or ill
|
I will never depart you froe.’
|
This lady now the right way nummº
|
took
|
With her maids all and some,
|
And shee brought Sir Lambwell from Carlile
|
Farr into a jollyº il[e]
|
pleasant
|
That clipped was A[v]ilion,
|
Which knoweth well every Briton;
|
And shee came there, that lady faire,
|
Shee gave him all that he found there,
|
That was to say, all manner of thing
|
That ever might be to his likinge;
|
And further of him hardº no man,
|
heard
|
Nor more of him tell can,
|
But in that iland his life he spend,
|
Soe did shee alsoe tooke her end.º
|
ended her life
|
ix) Thomas of Erceldoune
This fifteenth-century romance has very clear similarities with the ballad of Thomas the Rhymer (see our chapter Ballads, no. x), but the nature of the relationship is not certain. Many scholars have thought that the ballad is derived from the romance, but recently it has been argued that the romance has itself been formed from earlier tales or possibly ballads (which may have lived on separately). Certainly, the romance has some unusual features: the first-person narrative at the beginning, the unusual quatrain form and the relative lack of ‘story’. It ends with a long series of prophecies, but these may well have been added later.
a) vv. 25–36 & 69–108
Als I me wente this endres daye,
|
Full faste in mynd makand my mone,º
|
lament
|
In a mery mornynge of Maye,
|
In Huntle bankkes myselfe allone.
|
I herde the jaye, and the throstyll coke,º
|
male thrush
|
The mawysº menydeº hir of hir songe,
|
song-thrush / sang plaintively
|
The wodewaleº berydeº als a belle,
|
oriole woodpecker / cried
|
That alle the wode abowte me ronge.
|
Allone in longynge thus als I laye,
|
Undyrenethe a seemly tree,
|
[Saw] I whare a lady gaye
|
[Come rydyng] over a longe leeº …
|
meadow
|
… [She led three grehoundes in a leshe],
|
And sevene rachesº by hir thay rone,º
|
hounds / ran
|
Scho bare an horne abowte hir hales,º
|
neck
|
And undir hir belte full many a flone.º
|
arrow
|
Thomas laye and sawe that syghte,
|
Undirnethe ane semly tree;
|
He sayd, ‘Yone es Marye moste of myghte,
|
That bare that childe that dyede for mee.
|
Bot ifº I speke with yone lady bryghte,
|
unless
|
I hopeº myne herte will brysteº in three!
|
think / break
|
Now sall I go with all my myghte,
|
Hir for to mete at Eldoune tree.’
|
Thomas rathelyº upe he rase,
|
quickly
|
And he rane over that mountayne hye;
|
Gyffº it be als the storye sayes,
|
if
|
He hir met at Eldone tree.
|
He knelyde downe upon his knee,
|
Undirnethe that grenwode spray;º
|
branch
|
And sayd, ‘Lufly ladye! Reweº one mee,
|
have mercy
|
Qwene of hevene, als thou wele maye!’
|
Then spake that lady milde of thoghte,
|
‘Thomas, late swylkeº words bee;
|
such
|
Qwene of hevene ne am I noghte,
|
For I tukeº never so heghe degree.º
|
assumed / degree
|
Bote I ame of ane other countree,
|
If I be payreldeº moste of prysse;º
|
clothed / excellence
|
I ryde aftyre this wylde fee,º
|
animals
|
My raches rynnys at my devyse.’º
|
command
|
‘If thou be parelde moste of prys[e],
|
And here rydis thus in thy folye
|
Of lufe, lady, als thou erte wysse,
|
Thou gyffe me leve to lye the bye.’
|
Scho sayde, ‘Thou mane, that ware folye,
|
I praye the, Thomas, thou late me bee;
|
For I saye the full sekirlye,º
|
certainly
|
That synne will fordooº all my beaute.’
|
destroy
|
‘Now, lufly ladye, rewe one mee,
|
And I will evermore with the duelle;
|
Here my trouthe I will the plyghte,
|
Whethir thou will in hevene or helle’ …
|
[Thomas makes love to her and she is transfomed into an ugly and fearsome sight. Then she leads him into Eildon Hill … b): vv. 157–222]
… ‘Thomas, take leve at sonne and mone,
|
And als at lefe that grewesº on tree;
|
grows
|
This twelmoneth sall thou with me gone,
|
And medillertheº sall thou noneº see.’
|
earth / not at all
|
He knelyd downe appone his knee,
|
Undirnethe that grenewod spraye,
|
And sayd, ‘Lufly lady, rewe on mee,
|
Mylde qwene of hevene, als thou beste maye,
|
Allas!’ he sayd, ‘and wa es mee,
|
I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care.
|
My saulle, Jesu, byteche I the,
|
Whedir someº that ever my banesº sall fare.’
|
wherever / bones
|
Scho ledde hym in at Eldone hill,
|
Undirnethe a derneº lee,
|
secret
|
[Whare it was] dirkeº als mydnyght myrke,
|
dark
|
And ever the water tillº his knee.
|
to
|
The montenansº of dayes three,
|
space
|
He herde bot swoghyngeº of the flode;
|
rumbling
|
At the laste, he sayde, ‘full wa is mee!
|
Almaste I dye for fawte of f[ode].’
|
Scho lede hym intill a faire herbere,º
|
arbour
|
Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee],
|
Pere and appill, bothe ryppe thay were,
|
The date and als the damasee,º
|
damson
|
The fygge and als so the wyneberye.º
|
bilberry or grape
|
The nyghtgales byggandeº on their neste,
|
dwelling
|
The papejoyesº faste abowte gan flye,
|
parrots
|
And throstylls sange wolde hafe no reste.
|
He pressedeº to pulle frowyte with his hande,
|
pressed forward
|
Als maneº for fude that was nere faynt,
|
like a man
|
Scho sayd, ‘Thomas, thou late thame stande,
|
Or ells the fende the will atteynt;º
|
seize
|
If thou it plokk,º sothely to saye,
|
pluck
|
Thi saule gose to the fyre of helle;
|
It comes never owte orº domesdaye,
|
before
|
Bot ther in payne ay for to duelle.
|
Thomas, sothely I the hyghte,º
|
command
|
Come lygge thyne hede downe on my knee,
|
And [thou] sall se the fayreste syghte,
|
That ever sawe mane of thi contree.’
|
He did in hyeº als scho hym bade;
|
haste
|
Appone hir knee his hede he layde,
|
For hir to payeº he was full glade,
|
please
|
And thane that lady to hym sayde,
|
‘Seese thou nowe yone faire waye,
|
That lygges over yone heghe mountayne?
|
Yone es the waye to hevene for aye,
|
Whene synfull sawles are passed ther payne.
|
Seese thou nowe yone other waye,
|
That lygges lawe bynethe yone rysse?º
|
brushwood
|
Yone es the waye, the sothe to saye,
|
Unto the joye of paradyse.
|
Seese thou yitt yone thirde waye,
|
That ligges undir yone grene playne?
|
Yone es the waye, with tene and traye,
|
Whare synfull saulis suffiris thaire payne.
|
Bot seese thou nowe yone ferthe waye,
|
That lygges over yone depe delle?
|
Yone es the waye — so waylawaye! —
|
Unto the birnande fyre of helle.
|
Seese thou yitt yone faire castelle,
|
[That standis over] yone heghe hill?
|
Of towne and towre it beris the belle —
|
In erthe es none lyke it until.
|
For sothe, Thomas, yone es myne awenne,º
|
own
|
And the kynges of this countree …’
|
He is commanded to speak only to her when he is in her lord’s castle. Thomas stands still and looks at her. She is once more ‘fayre and gude’, riding on her palfrey with her hounds; she leads him to the castle, where he sees ladies making music, knights dancing, and feasting: there was ‘revelle, gamene and playe’. He stays there until (relapsing momentarily into first-person narrative, ‘till one a daye, so hafe I grace, My lufly lady sayde to mee’) he is told to make ready for the jouney back to ‘Eldone tree’. He says that he has only been in the castle for three days; she tells him that he has been there for three years and more (seven years and more according to the Cambridge MS). She says that on the following day the foul fiend of hell will come and ‘amange this folke will feche his fee’ and ‘thou arte mekill mane and hende — I trowe full wele he wolde chese the’ (v. 292), and she takes him back to ‘Eldonne tree’. The first Fytte ends here. In the following two fyttes, in response to his request to be told of ‘some ferly’ she tells him a long series of prophecies, until at last he allows her to go … to Helsdale in the north, reputed to be the home of fairies and witches.