XIII.
The bowmen send their arrows after this wild swine,
Schalkeȝ to schote at hym schowen to þenne,
Haled to hym of her areweȝ, hitten hym oft;
Bot þe poynteȝ payred at þe pyth þat pyȝt in his scheldeȝ,
& þe barbeȝ of his browe bite non wolde,
Þaȝ þe schauen schaft schyndered in peceȝ,
Þe hede hypped aȝayn, were-so-euer hit hitte;
Bot quon þe dynteȝ hym dered of her dryȝe strokeȝ,
Þen, brayn-wod for bate, on burneȝ he raseȝ,
Hurteȝ hem ful heterly þer he forth hyȝeȝ,
& mony arȝed þerat, & on-lyte droȝen.
Bot þe lorde on a lyȝt horce launces hym after,
As burne bolde vpon bent his bugle he bloweȝ,
He rechated, & r[ode]1 þurȝ roneȝ ful þyk,
Suande þis wy[ld]e swyn til þe sunne schafted.
Þis day wyth þis ilk dede þay dryuen on þis wyse,
Whyle oure luflych lede lys in his bedde,
Gawayn grayþely at home, in gereȝ ful ryche
of hewe;
Þe lady noȝt forȝate,
Com to hym to salue,
Ful erly ho watȝ hym ate,
His mode forto remwe.
1 The MS. is here almost illegible.