Now all that befell to Gawain, the lot of that blameless knight 15
Since he rode forth from fair Schamfanzon, if he oft on his way must fight,
Ye shall ask of those who there saw him, since naught may I tell ye here,
Yet hearken, and heed the story and the venture that draweth near.
One morning Gawain rode gaily o'er a grassy plain and green,
When a shield, in the sun fair shining, with lance-thrust pierced thro' was seen, 20
And a charger stood beside it that bare women's riding-gear,
And the bridle and aye the housing were of costly stuff and dear—
And the charger and shield beside it were bound to a linden tree.
Then he thought, 'Who shall be this woman? for valiant I ween is she,
Since she beareth a shield so knightly—If she thinketh with me to fight, 25
How, then, may I best withstand her? Were it better to here alight?
If too long she wrestle with me perchance I were overthrown,
If hatred or love I shall win here I will fight her on foot alone;
Yea, e'en an she were Kamilla, who before Laurentium fought—
Did she live still to battle with me, as awhile she for honour sought, 30
I would face her, nor fear her prowess, if here she my foe would be,
Tho' ne'er with a maid have I foughten and the chance seemeth ill to me!'
Battle-hewn was the shield and dinted, as Gawain right well espied
The nearer he rode unto it, and pierced with a lance-thrust wide.
Such token by joust is painted, little payment his skill should know 35
Whose hand erst the shield had fashioned an he thought him to paint it so!
By the trunk of the mighty linden sat a maid on the grass so green,
And sore did she weep and bewail her, and joyless, I wot, her mien.
Then around the tree rode Gawain, and lo! on her knee she bore
A knight, and she wept above him, and grieved with a sorrow sore. 40
Fair greeting Sir Gawain proffered, she thanked him and bowed her low,
And hoarse was her voice thro' weeping and weakened thro' force of woe.
Then down to the ground sprang Gawain, for the knight he was like to choke,
Since the blood welled within his body, and unto the maid he spoke,
And he asked if the knight were living, or should now in the death-throe be? 45
And she spake, 'He dieth surely, yet but now alive was he,
God hath sent thee unto my succour, now help me with word and deed,
Such wounds shalt thou oft have looked on, give counsel in this my need!'
'Yea, gladly I'll aid thee, Lady, from death shall thy knight be freed,
And healing I well might win him an there were but at hand a reed. 50
Thou shalt see him, and hearken to him, nor his life shall be waxen less,
The wound is not all too dangerous, but the blood on his heart doth press.'
Then he stripped from a bough of the linden the bark, and did wind it round,
(No fool he in art of healing,) and he set it unto the wound,
And he bade the maiden suck it till the blood should toward her flow— 55
And strength came again and hearing, and the voice of the knight they know,
And he looked on Gawain, and he thanked him, and said he should honoured be
In that from his woe he had freed him, and he asked of him, whence came he?
Rode he hither in search of knighthood? 'From far Punturtois I came
In search of such knightly venture as should win for me meed of fame, 60
Yet sorely must I bewail me for the ill that I here have won,
Sir Knight, an thy senses fail not, 'twere better this way to shun!'
'Such evil I little looked for—'Twas Lischois Giwellius
Who hath wounded me so sorely, and down from my charger thrust:
Fair was the joust and knightly, and he pierced me thro' shield and side, 65
On her steed this maiden helped me, and hither hath been my guide!'
Then he prayed Gawain to abide there, but he spake, he the place would see
Where such evil had chanced unto him, 'If Logrois thus near shall be,
Perchance I shall yet o'ertake him, he shall answer to me, I trow,
For the deed he hath done, and his reason for vengeance on thee I'll know!' 70
But the wounded knight spake, 'Not so, for true are the words I say,
And no child's play shall be this journey, great perils beset the way.'
With the band from the maiden's tresses Gawain the wound did bind,
And spake o'er it spells of healing, and he bade them their comfort find
In God, since He cares for all men—With blood was their pathway red, 75
And crimson the grass besprinkled as a stag had its life-blood shed;
Thus he rode not astray, and in short space did Logrois before him stand—
A fortress so fair and stately, its praise was in every land.
'Twas a stately Burg well builded, and it wound the hillside round,
From afar as a mighty circlet the fortress the summit crowned. 80
E'en to-day men this honour give it, its wall shall be stormed in vain,
For it openeth its gates to no foeman, whose hatred soe'er it gain!
And a garden lay green around it, 'twas planted with trees so fair,
Olive, pomegranate, fig-tree, and the vine which its grapes doth bear,
And gaily they grew and flourished—as Gawain rode that garden bright 85
He saw there what wrought him sorrow, yet filled him with all delight!
A streamlet gushed forth from the hillside, there he saw that which grieved him naught,
A lady so fair to look on that gladly her face he sought.
The flower was she of all women, save Kondwiramur alone
No fairer form nor feature might ever on earth be known. 90
So sweet and so bright to look on, so courteous and royal of mien,
Orgelusé, was she, of Logrois, and men say that in her was seen
The charm that desire awakeneth, a balm for the eyes of care,
For no heart but was drawn toward her, and no mouth but would speak her fair!
Gawain gave her courteous greeting, and he spake, 'If such grace I ģain95
That thou willest I should alight here and awhile at thy side remain,
If I see that my presence please thee, then sorrow be far from me,
And joy in its stead dwell with me, no knight e'er might gladder be!
May I die if the truth I speak not, no woman e'er pleased me more—'
'It is well, yet methinks I knew that,' then the knight for a space she saw; 100
And her sweet lips spake thus unto him, 'Now make of thy praise an end,
For well might it work thee evil, and I care not that foe or friend,
Whoever he be that cometh, his judgment on me shall speak,
For sure if all lips shall praise me my fame it but waxeth weak!
If the wise praise me e'en as the foolish, the false as the pure and true, 105
Then my fame shall be e'en as another's, for the many shall drown the few.
But my praise do I hold, and but wisdom shall speak that which she doth know—
Who thou mayst be, Sir Knight, I know not, but 'tis time thou thy way shouldst go!'