"And when thou art adoun yfalle,
Than schal com our felawes alle,
And with her hokes the hede;
We schul the teche a newe playe:
Thou hast served ous mani a day,
And into helle the lede.
"Owain biheld the brigge smert,
The water ther under blek and swert,
And sore him gan to drede;
For of othing he tok yeme,
Never mot, in sonne beme,
Thicker than the fendes yede.
"The brigge was as heigh as a tower,
And as scharpe as a rasour,
And naru it was also;
"And the water that ther run under,
Brend o' lighting and of thonder,
That thocht him michel wo.
"Ther nis no clerk may write with ynke,
No no man no may bithink, No no maister deuine;
That is ymade forsoth ywis,
Under the brigge of paradis Halven del the pine.
"So the dominical ous telle,
Ther is the pure entrae of helle,
Seine Poule [1] verth witnesse;
Whoso falleth of the brigge adown,
Of him nis no redempcion, Neither more nor lesse.
[Footnote 1: St. Paul.]
"The fendes seyd to the Knight tho,
'Ouer this brigge might thou nowght go,
For noneskines nede;
Fie peril sorwe and wo,
And to that stede ther thou com fro,
Wel fair we schul the lede.'
"Owain anon began bithenche,
Fram hou mani of the fendes wrenche,
God him saved hadde;
He sett his fot opon the brigge,
No feld he no scharpe egge,
No nothing him no drad.
"When the fendes yseigh tho,
That he was more than half ygo,
Loude thai gun to crie:
Allas! Allas! that he was born!
This ich night we habe forlorn
Out of our baylie."—Minstrelsy of Scottish Border.