Sir gawain and the green knight pdf simon armitage pdf

More praise for Simon Armitage's

SIR G�W�IN �Nb Ch E GREEN i<.NJGh "C

"The English poet Simon Armitage has provided a free and

wonderfully offbeat version of this unusual masterpiece . . . . His Sir

Gawain is fresh and startling, as though it had been written yesterday;

it is rough-knuckled and yet it sings . . . . f1rom start to finish, Mr.

Armitage has clearly had great fun; each of his words has been tasted

with gusto." -Eric Ormsby, New York Sun

"Full of make-believe and festivity, this wonderful narrative poem

possesses a Mozartean lightness and wit. Luckily, several modern

versions, particularly those by W. S. Merwin and Simon Armitage,

deftly replicate much of the feel and rhythm of the Middle English

original. " -Michael Dirda, Wall Street Journal

"I enjoyed it greatly for its kick and music; its high spirits, its many

memorable passages. I enjoyed it because, like the Gawain poet,

Armitage is some storyteller. "

-Kevin Crossley-Hoiland, The Guardian

"Armitage makes it utterly, even compulsively readable, and as fresh

as it must have been in 1400." -Brian Morton, Sunday Heralc�

"[Armitage] captures the narrative power of the Old English epic

perhaps even better than Tolkien does. "

-Chauncey Mabe, NBCC Most Recommenckd: Winter List

"Armitage keeps structure, rhyme and alliteration, but messes

about genially with the vocabulary. The result . . . is alert, alive and

accessible. The lyricism, the power and the drive of the original are

triumphantly present. " -Murrough O'Brien, The Independent

"Simon Armitage has translated this perfect read-aloud poem into

idiomatic English, convey{ing} the spirit and alliteration of the

original . " -Fritz Lanham, Houston Chronicle

"This new translation by English poet Simon Armitage brims

with brawny life, boasting such elements as a giant, other-worldly

adversary, the code of chivalry and a comely and wanton maiden. If

you liked 'Spamalot,' here's a chance to get even better acquainted

with those Knights of the Round Table." -Boston Herald

"{A} supple new translation . . . . Irresistible . . . . Armitage meticulously

maintains . the singsong alliteration . . . rarely, if ever, hitting a

strained or duff note . . . . That Armitage, a celebrated Yorkshire­

born poet, has injected a spot of northern dialect back into the poem,

is delicious. Occasionally, he even improves on the original. . . . This

is a translation to be savoured for its own linguistic merits: Armitage

has pored over and polished every word. In the introduction, he

writes that his ambition was to produce an independent, living piece

of 'poetry.' He has certainly done that.''

-Alistair Sooke, Daily Telegraph

"{Armitage} does get across the epic's emotional authenticity and

subtlety and its tough, tricky, sardonic core. This translation reveals a

writer closely attuned to centuries-old local influences and traditions

of language. " -Wall Street] ournal

"The story is rich, eerie and intoxicating as it follows Gawain

from Camelot to his likely doom among the forests and crags and

icy streams of the mysterious north . . . . Armitage never lacks for

boldness. His enjoyment of the original's thickly consonantal four­

stress alliterative line drives the narrative on at great pace. Nor does

he neglect the poem's concern with pattern, colour and bejewelled

decoration of castles, ladies' costumes and knightly equipment, seen

flashing and glowing amid the inhospitable winter landscapes that

dominate the poem . . . [Armitage] honours the original and will win

it readers. " -Sean O'Brien, Sunday Times

"Joining translators such as JRR Tolkien and Ted Hughes, Simon

Armitage has taken on one of the earliest stories in English literature .

. . . [He] meets this poetic challenge courageously, staying faithful to

the story's structure and style but filling the Middle English rhythms

with his trademark sound . . . . In the story of Gawain, Armitage has

found a language capable of change. By insisting on that change,

he had found a new poetry, a method of survival. Six hundred years

away, Gawain is closer than he has ever been." -The Observer

"The idiom Armitage develops is delicately responsive to the aural

_intricacies of the Middle English, but also has a free-flowing,

colloquial twang that allows the poem to partake of the energies of

contemporary speech . . . . Amitage's translation . . . captures much

of this great poem's beguiling mixture of dreamy magic and bracing

vigour. '" -Mark Ford, Financial Times

BY Cb€ 5.\ffi€ .\UCbOR

POETRY

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Selected Poems

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Eclipse

Mister Heracles (after E11ripides)

]er11salem

PROSE

All Points North

Little Green Man

The White Sttt[f

SIR G�W�IN �Nb

ChE GREEN ](N1GhC

A NEW VERSE TRANSLATION

SlffiON �RffiiL"�GE

W. W. NORCON &: comp�NY

New York London

Copyright © 2007 by Simon Armitage

First American edition 2007

Frontispiece© British Library Board. All rights reserved. (Cotton Nero A.x (art.3) folio 95 (old ink numbering 91)

Middle English text of Sir Gawain and the Gree11 Knight reprinted by permission of Everyman's Library, an imprint of Alfred A. Knopf.

Copyright© Everyman's Library 1962.

All rights reserved

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First published as a Norton paperback 2008

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Daca

Gawain and the Grene Knight. English & English (Middle English)

Sir Gawain and rhe Green Knight : a new verse translation I [rranslated by] Simon Armitage. - lsc American ed.

p. em.

Middle English rext, parallel English translation.

ISBN 978-0-393-06048-5

1. Gawain (Legendary character)--Romances. 2. Knights and knighchood-Poecry.

3. Arthurian romances. I. Armicage, Simon, 1963- II. Tide.

PR065.G3A328 2007

821.1--dc22 2007028520

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CONL"ENL"S

INTRODUCTION by Simort Armitage

9

A NOTE ON MIDDLE ENGLISH METER byjames Simpson

17

SIR G.).W.).IN .).j'jb ChE GREEN I<.NIGhC

19

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE GAWAIN POET

195

ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

197

INt"RObU CLION

W e know next to nothing about the author of the poem that

has come to be called Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It

was probably written around 1400. In the early seventeenth century

the manuscript was recorded as belonging to a Yorkshireman, Henry

Saville of Bank. It was later acquired by Sir Robert Cotton, whose

collection also included the Lindisfarrie Gospels and the only exist­

ing manuscript of Beowulf The poem then lay dormant for over two

hundred years, not coming ro l ight until Queen VictOria was on

the throne, thus leapfrogging the attentions of some of our greatest

writers and critics. The manuscript, a small, unprepossessing thing,

would fit comfortably into an average-size hand, were anyone actu­

ally allowed to rouch it . Now referred to as CottOn Nero A.x . , i t

i s considered not only a most brilliant example of Middle English

poetry but one of the jewels in the crown of English Literature, and

sits in the British Library under conditions of high security and con­

trolled humidity.

To cast eyes on the manuscript, or even to shuffle the unbound

pages of the Early English Text Society's facsimile edition, is to be

intrigued by the handwriting; stern, stylish letters, like crusading

chess pieces, fall into orderly ranks along faintly ruled lines. But the

man whose calligraphy we ponder, a jobbing scribe, probably, was

not the author. The person who has become known as the Gawain

poet remains as shadowy as the pages themselves. Among many

Introduction 9

other reasons, it is partly this anonymity that has made the poem so

attractive to latter-day translators. The lack of authorship seems to

serve as an invitation, opening up a space within the poem for a new

writer to occupy. Its comparatively recent rediscovery acts as a further

draw; if Milton or Pope had put their stamp on it, or if Dr. Johnson

had offered an opinion, or if Keats or Coleridge or Wordsworth had

drawn it into their orbit, such an invitation might now appear less

forthcoming.

The diction of the original tells us that its author was, broadly

speaking, a northerner. Or we might say a midlander. The linguis­

tic epicenter is thought to be located somewhere between north

Staffordshire and south Lancashire. Some researchers claim to have

identified Swythamley Grange as the Castle of Hautdesert, or the

jagged peaks of The Roaches as those "rughe knokled knarres with

knorned stones," (21 66). Lud's Church, a natural fissure in the rocks

near the village of Flash, in Debyshire, has been proposed as the site

of the Green Chapel. "Hit hade a hole on the ende and on ayther syde,

I And overgrowen with gresse in glodes anywhere; I And a! was holw

inwith, nobot an olde cave I Or a crevisse of an olde cragge" (2180-

2 183). It may or may not be the place, but to stand in that mossy

cleft that cannot have changed much over the centuries is to believe

that the author had an actual landscape in mind when he conceived

the poem, and lured his young protagonist into a northern region to

legitimize his vocabulary and to make good use of his surrounding

geography. A similar strategy has informed this translation; although

my own part of England is separated from Lud's Church by the swol­

len uplands of The Peak District, coaxing Gawain and his poem back

into the Pennines was always part of the plan.

Of course, to the trained medievalist the poem is perfectly read­

able in its original form; no translation necessary. And even for the

nonspecialist, certain lines, such as, "Bot Arthure wolde not ete til a!

were served," (85), especially when placed within the context of the

I o I n t1·od11ction

narrative, present little problem. Conversely, lines such as "Forthi,

iwysse, bi yowre wylle, wende me bihoves," ( 1 065) are incompre­

hensible to the general reader. But it is the lines that fall somewhere

between those extremes-the majority of lines, in fact-which fas­

cinate the most. They seem to make sense, though not quite. To the

untrained eye, it is as if the poem is lying beneath a thin coat of ice,

tantalizingly near yet frustratingly blurred. To a contemporary poet,

one interested in narrative and form, the urge to blow a little warm

breath across that layer of frosting eventually proved irresistible.

And even more so to a northerner who not only recognizes plenty

of the poem's dialect but who detects an echo of his own speech

within the original. Words such as "bide" (wait), "nobut" (nothing

but), "childer" (children), "layke" (play), "karp" (talk), "bout" (with­

out), "brid" (bird), "sam" (gather up), and "barlay" (truce) are still

in usage in these parts, though mainly (and sadly) among members

of the older generation.

Not all poems are stories, but Sir Gawain and the Green Knight most

certainly is. After briefly anchoring its historical credentials in the

siege of Troy, the poem quickly delivers us into Arrhurian Britain, at

Christmastime, with the knights of the Round Table in good humor

and full voice. But the festivities at Camelot are to be disrupted by

the astonishing appearance of a green knight. Not just a knight wear­

ing green clothes, but a weird being whose skin and hair is green,

and whose horse is green as well. The gate-crasher lays down a seem­

ingly absurd challenge, involving beheading and revenge. Alert to

the opportunity, a young knight, Gawain, Arthur's nephew, rises

from the table. What follows is a test of his courage and a test of his

heart, and during the ensuing episodes, which span an entire calen­

dar year, Gawain must steel himself against fear and temptation. The

poem is also a ghost story, a thriller, a romance, an adventure story,

and a morality tale. For want of a better word, it is also a myth, and

like all great myths of the past its meanings seem to have adapted and

Introd!lction I I

evolved, proving itself eerily relevant six hundred years later. As one

example, certain aspects of Gawain's situation seem oddly redolent

of a more contemporary predicament, namely our complex and deli­

cate relationship with the natural world. The Gawain poet had never

heard of climate change and was not a prophet anticipating the onset

of global warming. But medieval society lived hand in hand with

nature, and natu _ re was as much an enemy as a friend. It is not just

for decoration that the poem includes passages relating to the turn­

ing of the seasons, or detailed accounts of the landscape, or graphic

descriptions of our dealings with the animal kingdom. The knight

who throws down the challenge at Camelot is both ghostly and real.

Supernatural, yes, but also flesh and blood. He is something in the

likeness of ourselves, and he is not purple or orange or blue with yel­

l,ow stripes. Gawain must negotiate a deal with a man who wears the

colors of the leaves and the fields. He must strike an honest bargain

with this manifestation of nature, and his future depends on it.

Over the years there have been dozens, possibly hundreds of trans­

lations of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, ranging from important

scholarly restorations, to freehanded poetic or prose versions, to exer­

cises in form and technique by students of Middle English, many

of them posted on the Internet: Some translators, for perfectly valid

reasons and with great success, have chosen not to imitate its highly

alliterative form. But to me, alliteration is the warp and weft of the

poem, without which it is just so many fine threads. In some very

elemental way, the story and the sense of the poem is directly located

within its sound. The percussive patterning of the words serves to

reinforce their meaning and to countersink them within the memory.

So in trying to harmonize with the original rather than transcribe

every last word of it, certain liberties have been taken. This is not an

exercise in linguistic forensics or medieval history; the intention has

always been to produce a living, inclusive, and readable piece of work

in its own right.

12 Introduction

Readers of this parallel text edition are offered the opportunity of

allowing their eye to travel across the gutter of the book from an orig­

inal line to its corresponding translation. Occasionally they will be

presented with something like a mirror image, or at least a striking

resemblance. The first line of the poem, for example, aside for the odd

bit of touching-up, is a fairly honest reproduction. Other lines, how­

ever, will be less recognizable in their altered state. There is plenty to

argue with here, and for some commentators, this kind of approach

will always be unacceptable. But this is a poem, not a crib or a glos­

sary, and in imitating the alliterative style of Sir Gawain and the Green

Knight i t is inevitable that the translator will be led away from the

words of the original and their direct contemporary equivalents. Take

the much discussed issue of the Gawain poet's many words for "knight"

or "man." Terms at his disposal included "freke," "hathel," "burne,"

"tulk," "segge," "schalk," and "gome." In a literal translation, with the

use of a dictionary, each of those obsolete words could be replaced by a

modern word of the same meaning, without too much agonizing over

its acoustic properties or pronunciation. But in an alliterative transla­

tion those agonies must be experienced; in trawling for appropriate

substitute words the net must be cast wider. In the "bob and wheel"

sections where meter and rhyme also enter the equation, further devi­

ations are inevitable. Lines 8 1-82 read: "The comlokest to discrye I

Ther glent with yyen gray" (Broadly speaking, the fairest to behold I

looked on with gray eyes). A literal translation gives us the cold facts of

Guinevere's beauty, yet the unspoken poetic intelligence suggests that

her eyes are precious- stones, more priceless than the "best gemmes"

mentioned in the previous line. Of all the jewels that surround her, it

is her own eyes that glint and gleam the most. My own poetic response

has been to introduce "quartz" and "queen," despite neither of those

words being present in the original lines. I hope that readers will be

able to see this as a kind of controlled and necessary flirtation, rather

than carefree unfaithfulness or mindless infidelity.

Introduction r 3

Aside from the technical requirements of the poem, there are other

reasons for departing from the literal, and those reasons are to do with

the very nature of poetry itself. Poetry is not just meaning and infor­

mation. Poetry is about manner as much as it is about matter-the

manner in which words behave under certain conditions and in par­

ticular surroundings. Such behaviors give poems their unique char­

acter. Over time these behaviors change, or come to signify different

things, and their latter-day counterparts are more likely to be found

in the imagination than in the dictionary or the encyclopedia. For

this reason the poet who works as a translator will rarely be content

with a tit-for-tat exchange of one language into another, no matter

how scrupulous the transfer. Here is line 113 7:

By that any daylight lemed upon erthe

"By the time that some daylight shone upon earth" would be a rea­

sonable l iteral translation. At first sight this not a particularly appeal­

ing line. To begin with, it is one of the moments in the poem when

the alliteration falters. Also, for a description of the life-bringing

dawn, and as a curtain-raiser to one of the greatest hunting scenes

i n all literature, it ·seems pretty tame. But there is power. here, and

much of that power is invested in that single word "lemed," from an

Old Norse word, " lj6ma," meaning "to shine." It is not a word used

in English these days, which is a pity, because as a verb it has much

to recommend it. The. mouth opens to announce this word, and the

tongue pushes forward, launching that first "l ." Then something is

projected outward, from the breathed "e" to the agreeable, humming

"m," all the way through to that final "d," like a soft landing, the

laying down of light "upon" the ground. If it is onomatopoeic it is

also metaphorical, magical even, a one word image. It sign

that poetry is at work here, and it seems to demand a poetic response.

My own, "So as morning was lifting its lamp to the land" introduces

1 4 Introduction

words and concepts that are foreign to the original line, but not, I

hope, out of keeping with its ambitions or intentions. Neither does it

derail the story line or contradict the basic facts. Ornamentation has

happened here, but hopefully the structural integrity has not been

compromised.

Returning to the subject of alliteration, it should be mentioned

that within each line it is the stressed syllables char count. A trans­

Jared line like, "and retrieves the intestines in rime-honored style,"

( 16 12) might appear nor to alliterate ar first glance. Bur read it out

loud, and the repetition of that "t" sound-the rut-rutting, the spit

of revulsion, the squirming of the warm, wet tongue as it makes con­

tact with the roof of the mouth-seems co suggest a physical rela­

tionship with the action being described. If the technique is effective,

as well as understanding what we are being told we take a step closer

co acrmilly experiencing it. It is an attempt co combine meaning with

feeling. This is a translation nor only for the eye, bur for the ear and

rhe voice as well. Further co char, ir is worth noting that the pro­

nunciation of our hero's very name is not universally agreed upon.

To many he is Gawain. The original author clearly alliterated on the

"G," suggesting he also stressed the first syllable of the word. Bur

there are other moments in the rext, such as the perfecrly iambic qua­

train at 1948, where the rhythm suggests the opposite, as in Gawain,

which is the way I have always referred to him. For the convenience

of having my cake and eating it, sometimes I have allowed the tough­

looking "G" to perform a visual alliteration, and sometimes I have

required the "w" to act as the load bearer.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a poem that succeeds through

a series of vivid contrasts: standard English contrasting with collo­

quial speech; the devotion and virtue of the young knight contrast­

ing with rhe growling threats of his green foe; exchanges of courrly

love contrasting with none-roo-subtle sexual innuendo; exquisite

Introduction 1 s

robes and priceless crowns contrasting with spurting blood and the

steaming organs of butchered deer; polite, indoor society contrast­

ing with the untamed, unpredictable outdoors . . . and so on. Those

contrasts stretch the imaginative universe of the poem and make it

three dimensional. Without the space they open up, there would be

no poem to speak of. The same contrasts can be observed in the form

of the poem as well as its tone, with elements of order and disorder

at work throughout, often operating simultaneously. On the side of

order we have the carefully crafted form, the very particular number

of verses, and the rhyme and rhythm of the bob and wheel sections.

On the side of disorder we have the unequal line lengths, the vari­

able verse lengths, and the wildly fluctuating pace of the story. Even

the alliteration, a constant and insistent heartbeat for the most part,

misses a beat every now and again and flatlines completely on at least

one occasion. So within the strictures and confines of this very for­

mal piece we detect a human presence, the Gawain poet, a disciplined

craftsman who also l iked to run risks and rake liberties. He would

appear to have set himself a series of rules, then consciously and con­

spicuously gone about bending them. As his translator, I hope to have

been guided by his example.

r 6 Introduction

-Simon Armitage

.}. NOL"E ON mlbbLE ENGLIS h ffiEL"ER

S imon Armitage's introduction to his splendid translation of Sir

Gawain and the Green Knight provides all the basic informacion

a reader might need to appreciate chis work. For those readers who

wish to hear, and to read, the original text, a few words on the poem's

meter might be useful.

Metrical practice is determined by the deeper music of a language.

In Germanic languages, the tonic, or accented syllable, is usually

the first syllable of a word. In romance languages, by contrast, the

tonic syllable falls toward, or at the end, of words. Germanic poets

therefore highlight the beginning of words with alliteration, whereas

romance poets (e.g. , French or Italian) highlight the end of words

with rhyme.

Alliteration (from Latin litera, alphabetic letter) consists of the rep­

etition of an initial consonant sound or consonant cluster in consec­

utive or closely ·positioned words. Anglo-Saxon is the earlier, purely

Germanic form of English used in England from the time of the

Germanic invasions in the fifth century until the Norman Conquest

in 1066. All poetry in Anglo-Saxon is alliterative. Only after the

Norman Conquest, and the impact of French, did poets writing in

English begin co use rhyme as a fundamental pare of their metrical

practice. Anglo-Saxon poetry and metrical practice were for the most

pare displaced by models of continental poetry deploying rhyme, even

if there are some very brilliant, post-Conquest exceptions (notably

A Note on Middle EngliJh ivieter I 7

the alliterative Lawman's Bmt, c. 1 190). From the mid-fourreenrh

century, however, for reasons not fully undersrood, an extraordinary

range of alliterative poems appear. Ir seems likely that this body of

work constirutes a revival of an older metrical tradition. Poems writ­

ten or somehow located in the west of England (narurally the most

conservative linguistically, given the pressure for change from the

east) from the middle of the fourteenth century use alli terative meter

in a wide range of poetic genres. To this group of texts, and in partic­

ular ro a more refined, technically disciplined metrical practice char­

acteristic of Norrh-Western texts, the remarkable Sir Gawain and the

Green Knight belongs. For all his commitment ro alliterative verse

of great technical virtuosity, however, the Gawain-poet also signals

that he's skilful in rhyme, too, since each stanza ends with five short

rhyming lines.

The poem is written in stanzas. The number of lines per stanza

varies. The line is longer, and does not contain a fixed number or pat­

tern of stresses like the classical alliterative meter of Anglo-Saxon

poetry. The standard metrical pattern is a ala x, where a signifies an

alliterating, stressed syllable; I signifies a caesura; and x signifies a

nonalliterating stressed syllable. The poet frequently enriches this

pattern. Each stanza closes, as mentioned above, with five short lines,

rhyming a b a b a. The first of these rhyming lines contains just one

stress, and is called the "bob"; the four three stress lines that follow

are called the "wheel. "

1 8 A Note on Middle English Metel'

-james Simpson

SIR G�W�IN �Nb

ChE GREEN KNIGhC

Sithen the sege and the assaut was sesed at Troye,

The borgh brittened and brent to brondes and askes,

The tulk that the trammes of tresoun ther wroght

Was cried for his tricherie, the trewest on erthe.

Hit was Ennias the athel and his highe kynde

That sithen depreced provinces, and patrounes bicome

Welneghe of al the wele in the West Iles:

Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyrhe,

With gret bobbaunce that burghe he biges upon fyrst,

ro And nevenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat;

Ticius to Tuskan, and teldes bigynnes;

Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes up homes;

And fer over the French flod Felix Brutus

On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settes

wyth wynne,

Where werre and wrake and wonder

Bi sythes has wont therinne,

And oft bothe blysse and blunder

Ful skete has skyfted synne.

20 Ande quen this Bretayn was bigged bi this burn rych,

Bolde bredden therinne, baret that lofden,

In mony turned tyme rene that wroghten.

Mo ferlyes on this folde han fallen here oft

2 o Sir Grtwain a n d the G reen Knight

fi(T I

Once the siege and assault of Troy had ceased,

with the city a smoke-heap of cinders and ash,

the traitor who contrived such betrayal there

was tried for his treachery, the truest on earth;

so Aeneas, it was, with his noble warriors

went conquering abroad, laying claim to the crowns

of the wealthiest kingdoms in the western world.

Mighty Romulus quickly careered towards Rome

and conceived a city in magnificent style

10 which from then until now has been known by his name.

Ticius constructed townships in Tuscany

and Langobard did likewise building homes in Lombardy.

And further afield, over the Sea of France,

on Britain's broad hilltops, Felix Brutus made

his stand.

And wonder, dread and war

have lingered in that land

where loss and love in turn

have held the upper hand.

20 After Britain was built by this founding father

a bold race bred there, battle-happy men

causing trouble and torment in turbulent times,

and through history more strangeness has happened here

Simon A rm i tage 2 1

Then in any ocher that I woe, syn chat ilk cyme.

Bot of alle that here bulc of Bretaygne kynges

Ay was Arthur the hendest, as I hafherde telle.

Forthi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,

That a selly in sight summe men hit holden,

And an outtrage awenture of Arthures wonderes.

30 If ye wyl lysten this laye bot on littel guile,

I schal telle hit astir, as I in toun herde,

with conge;

As hit is scad and stoken

In stori stif and strange,

With lel letteres loken,

In londe so has ben lange.

This kyng lay at Camylot upon Krystmasse

With many luflych lorde, ledes of the best,

Rekenly of the Rounde Table alle tho rich brether,

40 With rych revel oryght and rechles merthes.

Ther tournayed tulkes by cymes ful many,

Justed ful jolile thise gentyle knightes,

Sythen kayred to the court, caroles to make.

For ther the fest was ilyche ful fiften dayes,

With alle the mete and the mirthe that men couthe avyse:

Such glaum ande gle glorious to here,

Dere dyn upon day, daunsyng on nyghtes;

Al was hap upon heghe in halles and chambres

With lordes and ladies, as levest him thoght.

so With all the wele of the worlde thay waned ther samen,

The most kyd knyghtes under Krystes selven,

Arid the lovelokkest ladies that ever lif haden,

And he the comlokest kyng that the court haldes.

2 2 Sir Gawain a n d the Green Knight

than anywhere else I know of on Earth.

But most regal of rulers in the royal line

was Arthur, who I heard is honored above all,

and the inspiring story I intend to spin

has moved the hearts and minds of many­

an awesome episode in the legends of Arthur.

30 So listen a little while to my tale if you will

and I'll tell it as it's told in the town where it trips from

the tongue;

and as it has been inked

in stories bold and strong,

through letters which, once linked,

have lasted loud and long.

It was Christmas at Camelot-King Arthur's court,

where the great and the good of the land had gathered,

all the righteous lords of the ranks of the Round Table

40 quite properly carousing and reveling in pleasure.

Time after time, in tournaments of joust,

they had lunged at each other with leveled lances

then returned to the castle to carry on their caroling,

for the feasting lasted a full fortnight and one day,

with more food and drink than a fellow could, dream of.

The hubbub of their humor was heavenly to hear:

pleasant dialogue by day and dancing after dusk,

so the house and its hall were lit with happiness

and lords and ladies were luminous with joy.

50 Such a coming together of the gracious and the glad:

the most chivalrous and courteous knights known to Christendom;

the most wonderful women to have walked in this world;

the handsomest king to be crowned at court.

S i 1non A rm itage 2 3

For al was this fayre folk in her first age

on sille,

The hapnest under heven,

Kyng hyghest mon of wylie;

Hit were now gret nye to neven

So hardy a here on hille.

6o Wyle Nw Yer was so yep that hit was nwe cummen,

That day doubble on the dece was the douth served,

Fro the kyng was cummen with knyghtes into the halle,

The chauntre of the chapel cheved to an ende.

Loude crye was ther kest of clerkes and other,

Nowel nayted onewe, nevened ful ofte;

And sythen riche forth runnen to reche hondeselle,

Yeyed yeres yiftes on high, yelde hem bi hond,

Debated busyly aboute tho giftes.

Ladies laghed ful loude, thogh thay lost haden,

70 And he that wan was not wrothe, that may ye wel trawe.

So

Alle this mirthe thay maden to the mete tyme.

When thay had waschen worthyly thay wenten to sere,

The best burne ay abof, as hit best semed;

Whene Guenore, ful gay, graythed in the myddes,

Dressed on the dere des, dubbed al aboute­

Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir over

Of tryed Tolouse, of Tars tapites innoghe,

That were enbrawded and beten wyth the best gemmes

That myght be preved of prys wyth penyes to bye

in daye.

The comlokest to discrye

Ther glent with yyen gray;

A semloker that ever he syye,

Soth moght no mon say.

2 4 Sir Gawain and t h e Green Knight

Fine folk with their futures before them, there in

· that hall.

Their highly honored king

was happiest of all:

no nobler knights had come

within a castle's wall.

6o With New Year so young it still yawned and stretched

helpings were doubled on the dais that day.

And as king and company were coming to the hall

the choir in the chapel fell suddenly quiet,

then a chorus erupted from the courtiers and clerks:

"Noel," they cheered, then "Noel, Noel,"

"New Year Gifts!" the knights cried next

as they pressed forwards to offer their presents,

teasing with frivolous favors and forfeits,

till rhose ladies who lost couldn't help but laugh,

70 and the undefeated were far from forlorn.

So

Their merrymaking rolled on in this manner until mealtime,

when, washed and worthy, they went to the table,

and were seated in order of honor, as was apt,

with Guinevere in their gathering, gloriously framed

at her place on the platform, pricelessly curtained

by silk to each side, and canopied across

with French weave and fine tapestry from the far east

studded with stones and stunning gems.

Pearls beyond pocket. Pearls beyond purchase

or price.

But not one stone outshone

the quartz of the queen's eyes;

with hand on heart, no one

could argue otherwise.

Simon A rmitage 2 5

Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were served,

He was so joly of his joyfnes, and sumquat childgered:

His lif liked hym lyght, he lovied the lasse

Auther to longe lye or to longe sitte,

So bisied him his yonge blod and his brayn wylde.

90 And also another maner meved him eke,

That he thurgh nobelay had nomen he wolde never ete

Upon such a dere day, er hym devised were

Of sum aventurus thyng an uncouthe tale,

Of sum mayn mervayle, that he myght trawe,

Of alderes, of armes, of other aventurus;

Other sum segg hym bisoght of sum siker knyght

To joyne wyth hym in justyng, in joparde to lay,

Lede lif for lyf, leve uchon other,

As fortune wolde fulsun hom, the fayrer to have.

1oo This was kynges countenaunce where he in court were,

At uch farand fest among his fre meny

in halle.

Therfore of face so fere

He stightles stif in stalle;

Ful yep in that Nw Yere,

Much mirthe he mas with aile.

Thus ther srondes in stale the stif kyng hisselven,

Talkkande bifore the hyghe table of trifles ful hende.

There gode Gawan was graythed Gwenore bisyde,

' 1 0 And Agravayn a la dure mayn on that other syde sittes,

Bothe the kynges sister sunes and ful siker knightes;

Bischop Bawdewyn abof bigines the table,

And Ywan, Uryn son, ette with hymselven.

Thise were dight on the des and derworthly served,

And sithen mony siker segge at the sidbordes.

2 6 Sir Gawain and the G reen Knight

But Arthur would not eat until all were served.

He brimmed with ebullience, being almost boyish

in his love of life, and what he liked the least

was to sit still watching the seasons slip by.

His blood was busy and he buzzed with thoughts,

90 and the matter which played on his mind at that moment

was his pledge to take no portion from his plate

on such a special day until a story was told:

some far-fetched yarn or outrageous fable,

the tallest of tales, yet one ringing with truth,

like the action-packed epics of men-at-arms.

Or till some chancer had challenged his chosen knight,

dared him, with a lance, to lay life on the line,

to stare death face-to-face and accept defeat

should fortune or fate smile more favorably on his foe.

1oo Within Camelot's castle this was the custom,

and at feasts and festivals when the fellowship

would meet.

With features proud and fine

he stood there tall and straight,

a king at Christmastime

amid great merriment.

And still he stands there just being himself,

chatting away charmingly, exchanging views.

Good Sir Gawain is seated by Guinevere,

1 1 0 and at Arthur's other side sits Agravain the Hard Hand,

both nephews of the king and notable knights.

At the head sat Bishop Baldwin as Arthur's guest of honor,

with Ywain, son ofUrien, to eat beside him.

And as soon as the nobles had sampled the spread

the stalwarts on the benches to both sides were served.

Simon A rmitage 2 7

Then the first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes,

Wyth mony baner ful bryght that therbi henged;

Nwe nakryn noyse with the noble pipes,

Wylde werbles and wyght wakned lore,

120 That mony herr ful highe hef at her towches.

Dayntes dryven therwyth of ful dere metes,

Foysoun of the fresche, and on so fele disches

That pine to fynde the place the peple biforne

For to sette the sylveren that sere sewes halden

on clothe.

Iche lede as he loved hymselve

Ther laght withouten lothe;

Ay two had disches twelve,

Good ber and bryght wyn bothe.

1 30 Now wyl I of hor servise say yow no more,

J40

For uch wyye may wel wit no wont that ther were.

An other noyse ful newe neghed bilive,

That the lude myght haf leve liflode to each.

For unethe was the noyce not a whyle sesed,

And the fyrst cource in the court kyndely served,

Ther hales in at the halle dor an aghlich mayster,

On the most on the molde on mesure hyghe,

Fro the swyre to the swange so sware and so thik,

And his lyndes and his lymes so longe and so grete,

Half etayn in erde I hope that he . were;

Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene,

And that the myriest in his muckel that myght ride,

For of bak and of brest al were his bodi sturne,

Both his wombe and his wast were worthily smale,

And alle his fetures folwande in forme that he hade,

ful clene.

2 8 S i r Gawain and the G reen Knight

The first course comes in to the fanfare and clamor

of blasting trumpet. s hung with trembling banners,

then pounding double-drums and dinning pipes,

weird sounds and wails of such warbled wildness

12o that to hear and feel them made the heart float free.

Flavorsome delicacies of flesh were fetched in

and the freshest of foods, so many in fact

there was scarcely space to present the stews

or to set the soups in the silver bowls on

the cloth.

Each guest received his share

of bread or meat or broth;

a dozen plates per pair­

plus beer or wine, or both!

1 30 Now, on the subject of supper I'll say no more

as it's obvious to everyone that no one went without.

Because another sound, a new sound, suddenly drew near,

which might signal the king to sample his supper,

for barely had the horns finished blowing their breath

and with starters just spooned to the seated guests,

a fearful form appeared, framed in the door:

a mountain of a man, immeasurably high,

a hulk of a human from head to hips,

so long and thick in his loins and his limbs

140 I should genuinely judge him to be a half giant,

or a most massive man, the mightiest of mortals.

But handsome, coo, like any horseman worth his horse,

for despite the bulk and brawn of his body

his stomach and waist were slender and sleek.

In fact in all features he was finely formed

it seemed.

Simon A rmitage 2 9

For wonder of his hwe men hade,

Set in his semblaunt sene;

He ferde as freke were fade,

And overal enker grene.

Ande al graythed in grene this gome and his wedes:

A strayt cote ful streght that stek on his sides,

A mere mantile abof, mensked withinne

With pelure pured apert, the pane ful clene

With blythe blaunner ful bryght, and his hod bothe,

That was laghr fro his lokkes and layde on his schulderes;

Heme, wel-haled hose of that same grene,

That spenet on his sparlyr, and clene spures under

Of bryghr golde, upon silk bordes barred ful ryche,

1 6o And scholes under schankes there the schalk rides.

And aile his vesture verayly was clene verdure,

Bothe the barres of his belt and ocher blythe stones,

That were richely rayled in his aray clene

Aboucte hymself and his sadel, upon silk werkes,

That were to tor for to telle of tryfles the halve

That were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes and flyyes,

With gay gaudi of grene, the golde ay inmyddes.

The pendauntes of his payttrure, the proude cropure,

His molaynes and aile the metail anamayld was thenne;

q o The steropes that he stod on stayned of the same,

And his arsouns al after and his athel skurtes,

That ever glemered and glent al of grene stones.

The fole that he ferkkes on fyn of that ilke,

serrayn:

A grene hors grer and rhikke,

A srede ful stif to strayne,

3 o S ir Gawa i n a n d the Green Knight

Amazement seized their minds,

no soul had ever seen

a knight of such a kind­

entirely emerald green.

And his gear and garments were green as well:

a tight fitting tunic, tailored to his torso,

and a cloak to cover him, che cloth fully lined

with smoothly shorn fur clearly showing, and faced

with all-white ermine, as was the hood,

worn shaw led on his shoulders, shucked from his head.

On his lower limbs his leggings were also green,

wrapped closely round his calves, and his sparlding spurs

were green-gold, strapped with stripy silk,

r6o and were set on his stockings, for this stranger was shoeless.

In all vestments he revealed himself veritably verdant!

From his belt hooks and buckle to the baubles and gems

arrayed so richly around his costume

and adorning the saddle, stitched onto silk.

All the details of his dress are difficult to describe,

embroidered as it was with butterflies and birds,

green beads emblazoned on a background of gold.

All the horse's tack-harness strap, hind scrap,

the eye of the bit , each alloy and enamel

r7o and the stirrups he stood in were similarly tinted,

and the same with the cantle and the skirts of the saddle,

all glimmering and glinting with the greenest jewels.

And the horse: every hair was green, from hoof

to mane.

A steed of pure green stock.

Each snore and shudder strained

S i m o n A rmitage 3 I

In brawden brydel quik­

To the gome he was ful gayn.

Wel gay was chis gome gered in grene,

rBo And the here of his hed of his hors swece.

Fayre fannand fax umbefoldes his schulderes;

A much berd as a busk over his brest henges,

That wyth his highlich here that of his hed reches

Was evesed al umbetorne abof his elbowes,

That half his armes cherunder were halched in the wyse

Of a kynges capados that closes his swyre.

The mane of chat mayn hors much to hit lyke,

Wei cresped and cemmed, wyth knoctes ful mony

Folden in wyth fildore aboute the fayre grene,

r9o Ay a herle of the here, an other of golde.

200

The tayl and his toppyng twynnen of a sure,

And bounden bothe wyth a bande of a bryghc grene,

Dubbed wyth ful dere scones, as the dok lasted;

Sychen chrawen wyth a thwong, a chwarle-knot alofte,

Ther mony belles ful bryght of hrende golde rungen.

Such a fole upon folde, ne freke that hym rydes,

Was never sene in chat sale wych syght er that cyme,

with yye.

He loked as layt so lyght,

So sayd al that hym syye;

Hie semed as no mon myghc

Under his dynctes dryye.

Whether hade he no helme ne hawbergh nauther,

Ne no pysan, ne no place that pented to armes,

Ne no schafte, ne no schelde, co schwve ne co smyte,

Bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe,

3 2 Sir G awain and the G reen Knight

the hand-stitched bridle, but

his rider had him reined.

The fellow in green was in fine fettle.

rBo The hair of his head was as green as his horse,

fine flowing locks which fanned across his back,

plus a bushy green beard growing down to his breast,

and his face hair along with the hair of his head

was lopped in a line at elbow length

so half his arms were gowned in green growth,

crimped at the collar, like a king's cape.

The mane of his mount was groomed to match,

combed and knotted into curlicues

then tinseled with gold, tied and twisted

190 green over gold, green over gold . . . .

The fetlocks were finished in the same fashion

with bright green ribbon braided with beads,

as was the tail-to its tippety-tip!

And a long, tied thong lacing it tight

was strung with gold bells which resounded and shone.

No waking man had witnessed such a warrior

or weird warhorse--otherworldly, yet flesh

and bone.

A look of lightning flashed

2oo from somewhere in his soul.

The force of that man's fist

would be a thunderbolt.

Yet he wore no helmet and no hauberk either,

no armored apparel or plate was apparent,

and he swung no sword nor sported any shield,

but held in one hand a sprig of holly-

S i m o n A rm itage 3 3

That is grattest in grene when greves ar bare,

And an ax in his other, a hoge and unmete,

A spetos sparthe to expoun in spelle, quo-so myght.

2 1 o The hede of an elnyerde the large lenkthe hade,

The grayn al of grene stele and of golde hewen,

The bit burnyst bryght, with a brod egge

As wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores.

The stele of a stif staf rhe srurne hit bi grypte,

That was wounden wyth yrn to the wandes ende,

And al bigraven with grene in gracias werkes;

A lace lapped aboute, that louked at the hede,

And so after the halme halched ful ofte,

Wyth tryed tasseles therto tacched innoghe

220 On botouns of the bryghr grene brayden ful ryche.

This hathel heldes hym in and the halle entres,

Drivande to the heghe dece, dut he no wothe.

Haylsed he never one, bot heghe he over loked.

The fyrst word that he warp: "Wher is," he sayd,

"The governour of this gyng? Gladly I wolde

Se that segg in syght, and with hymself speke

raysoun."

To knyghtes he kest his yye,

And reled hym up and doun,

He stemmed and con studie

Quo walt ther most renoun.

Ther was lokyng on lenthe, the lude to beholde,

For uch mon had mervayle quat hit mene myght

That a hathel and a horse myght such a hwe lach

As growe grene as the gres and grener hit semed,

Then grene aumayl on golde glowande bryghter.

Al studied that ther stod, and stalked hym nerre,

3 4 Sir Gawain and the G rem Knight

of all the evergreens the greenest ever-

and in the other hand held the mother of all axes,

a cruel piece of kit I kid you not:

2 1 0 the head was an ell in length at least

and forged in green steel with a gilt finish;

the skull-busting blade was so stropped and buffed it could shear a man's scalp and shave him to boot.

The handle which fitted that fiend's ,great fist

was inlaid with iron, end to end,

with green pigment picking out impressive designs.

From stock to neck, where it stopped with a knot,

a lace was looped the length of the haft,

trimmed with tassels and tails of string

220 fastened firmly in place by forest-green buttons.