XIII.
The bowmen send their arrows after this wild swine,
Schalke3 to schote at hym schowen to þenne,
Haled to hym of her arewe3, hitten hym oft;
Bot þe poynte3 payred at þe pyth þat py3t in his schelde3,
& þe barbe3 of his browe bite non wolde,
Þa3 þe schauen schaft schyndered in pece3,
Þe hede hypped a3ayn, were-so-euer hit hitte;
Bot quon þe dynte3 hym dered of her dry3e stroke3,
Þen, brayn-wod for bate, on burne3 he rase3,
Hurte3 hem ful heterly þer he forth hy3e3,
& mony ar3ed þerat, & on-lyte dro3en.
Bot þe lorde on a ly3t horce launces hym after,
As burne bolde vpon bent his bugle he blowe3,
He rechated, & r[ode]1 þur3 rone3 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 gere3 ful ryche
of hewe;
Þe lady no3t for3ate,
Com to hym to salue,
Ful erly ho wat3 hym ate,
His mode forto remwe.
1 The MS. is here almost illegible.