(48)

HILE the lord found delight in the linden-wood,

that good man Gawain had a grand bed

where he dozed while daylight dappled the walls

and crept through the counterpanes and curtains about him.

As he drifted half-dreaming, a delicate noise

sounded softly at the door, which suddenly opened.

When he heard this he heaved his head from the sheets

and pulled a corner of the curtain carefully aside,

warily wondering what it might be.

It was the lady herself, such a lovely sight,

who closed the door carefully and quietly behind her

and bent toward the bed. Blushing the fellow

lay down and lurked there, looking asleep.

Taking step after step, she stole to the bed,

caught up the curtain and crawling inside

sat down beside him with silent motions.

A long while she lingered there to look at him waking.

The man lay unmoving for more than a while,

for his mind was bemused what to make of this

strange situation. It seemed most amazing.

But he said to himself, “It would suit far better

if I let the lady enlighten me herself."

Then he straightened and stretched and stirring toward her

he opened his eyes and acted astounded.

Then he crossed himself as if he claimed protection

from that sight –

her chin and cheeks were sweet,

blending red and white;

her voice a pleasant treat

where small lips smiled delight.

 

(49)

OOD morning, Sir Gawain!" she gaily exclaimed.

“You're a sound sleeper! I slipped in unnoticed

and you are quite my captive! Unless we come to terms

I shall bind you in your bed – of that be quite certain."

Delighted the lady laughed as she teased him.

“Good morning, gay lady!" answered Gawain blithely.

“Just decide on my sentence; it will suit me nicely.

I'm your prisoner completely, and plead for your mercy.

It's my best bet, so I had better take it!"

(So he teased her in turn, returning her laughter.)

“But at least, lovely lady, allow me one wish:

pardon your prisoner, please let him rise;

let me be out of bed, in better apparel,

and we'll finish chatting in far greater comfort."

“Certainly not, good sir," that sweet lady said.

“You'll not budge from your bed: I have better plans.

I shall hold you here – and that other half also –

and get to know the knight I've so neatly trapped.

I know enough after all, to know of Sir Gawain

whom all the world worships; every way you ride

your courteous character is acclaimed most nobly

by lords and by ladies and all living people.

And now you are here, and here we're alone –

my lord and his men will be long afield;

the servants are sleeping; so are my maidens;

I have closed the door, it's securely locked;

and since I have in this house he whom all admire,

I shall spend my time in speech I am sure

to treasure.

My person's yours, of course,

to see you take your pleasure;

I am obliged, perforce,

to serve you at your leisure."

 

(50)

N good faith," said Gawain, “I would gain too much!

Though I am hardly he of whom you are speaking – 

the honor you outline is obviously more

than what I am worth – and how well I know it!

By God! I'd be glad if it seemed good to you

to assign some other service I might do

to value and revere you; I'd be very glad."

“In good faith, Sir Gawain!" she gaily replied.

“If I prized the prowess that pleases all others

so little or so lightly, I'd be less than gracious!

There is no lack of ladies who'd love so very much

to have one so handsome held as I have you,

who'd be so glad to listen as your gracious speech

softened their sorrows and soothed all their cares

that they would gladly give all the gold they have!

But I praise the Prince whose place is in heaven

that I have right here what others hope to see

by grace!"

She'd such a cheerful air

who seemed so sweet of face,

but he with spotless care

answered every case.

 

(51)

ADAM," said that debonair man, “may Mary reward you!"

In good faith, I have found you to be fine and noble,

but though a person's prowess may be praised by others,

the honors they assign are not owed to me.

The worthiness is yours, who think well of others."

“By Mary!" she remarked. “I must disagree.

Were I worth as much as all women living,

and all the wealth of the world were where I could spend it, 

I should hunt very hard and haggle for a lord

of such nature as I know that this knight has here – 

high-minded, hearty, and handsomely formed.

As I heard from others and hold to be true,

there's no finer fellow to be my first choice."

“Fair lady, I find your first choice was better,"

he replied, “but I am proud to be prized so highly.

I am your sober servant and you my sovereign queen – 

I have become your knight and may Christ reward you."

Thus till mid-morning passed they made conversation;

and always she acted as if she adored him;

while Gawain was guarded though gracious enough.

“Were I the loveliest of ladies," the lady surmised,

“love can mean little when he has loss so much

in mind –

the blow he must receive,

his debt repaid in kind."

She asked if she could leave,

and he was so inclined.

 

(52)

HEN she gave him good day and glanced at him laughing,

and as she stood astonished him with these stunning words.

“Now may God grant you honor for gracious conversation,

but I guess that Gawain's not your given name."

“What do you mean?" the man asked at once,

afraid he had failed in some form of honor.

“Bless you," she answered. “I must base my doubt

on Gawain's known graciousness, his grand reputation.

How could the complete paragon of perfect behavior

spend so much time speaking with a lady

without craving a kiss in courteous fashion

by a tactful hint or turn of conversation?"

“Very well," said Gawain, “your wishes will guide me,

I shall kiss when called upon, as becomes a knight

who would not upset you. Say nothing more."

At that she came close and clasping her arms

bent beautifully down, embraced him and kissed.

“Now may Christ care for you," they called to each other,

and away she went without a word further.

But he’s ready to rise, and rushes out soon,

calls for his chamberlain, chooses his clothing,

and thus changed, charges out cheerfully to mass.

When he dined that day, delicacies were served him;

making merry past moonrise that man gave fun

free reign.

The world could never hold

two finer dames, it’s plain,

the young one and the old –

those two could entertain.