IV.
The gates are soon opened.
The brygge wat3 brayde doun, & þe brode 3ate3
Vnbarred, & born open, vpon boþe halue;
Þe burne blessed hym bilyue, & þe brede3 passed;
Prayses þe porter, bifore þe prynce kneled,
Gef hym God & goud day, þat Gawayn he saue;
& went on his way, with his wy3e one,
Þat schulde teche hym to tourne to þat tene place,
Þer þe ruful race he schulde re-sayue.
Þay bo3en bi bonkke3, þer bo3e3 ar bare,
Þay clomben bi clyffe3, þer clenge3 þe colde;
Þe heuen wat3 vp halt, bot vgly þer vnder,
Mist muged on þe mor, malt on þe mounte3,
Vch hille hade a hatte, a myst-hakel huge;
Broke3 byled, & breke, bi bonkke3 aboute,
Schyre schaterande on schore3, þer þay doun schowued.
Welawylle wat3 þe way, þer þay bi wod schulden,
Til hit wat3 sone sesoun, þat þe sunne ryses,
þat tyde;
Þay were on a hille ful hy3e,
Þe quyte snaw lay bisyde;
Þe burne þat rod hym by
Bede his mayster abide.