Þus layke3 þis lorde by lynde wode3 eue3,
Thus leapt this lord about the woods' limber eves.
& G. þe god mon, in gay bed lyge3,
& the good man Gawain in a gay bed lies,
Lurkke3 quyl þe day-ly3t lemed on þe wowes,
Lurks, while the light of day illuminates walls,
Vnder couertour ful clere, cortyned aboute;
Under colorful covers with curtains about.
& as in slomeryng he slode, sle3ly he herde
& as he slid through his slumber, slyly he heard
A littel dyn at his dor, & derfly vpon;
A little din at his door & it deftly opened.
& he heue3 vp his hed out of þe cloþes,
& he heaves his head up out of the bedclothes,
A corner of þe cortyn he ca3t vp a lyttel,
He coerces a corner of the curtain up a little
& wayte3 warly þider-warde, quat hit be my3t.
& watches warily thitherward for what it might be.
Hit wat3 þe ladi, loflyest to be-holde,
It was the lady, loveliest to behold,
Þat dro3 þe dor after hir ful dernly & stylle,
That drew the door after her, stealthy & still,
& bo3ed to-warde þe bed; & þe burne schamed.
& turned toward the bed. The baron then blushed
& layde hym doun lystyly, & let as he slepte.
& lay down lightly & let on as he slept.
& ho stepped stilly. & stel to his bedde,
& she stepped stilly & stole to his bed,
Kest vp þe cortyn, & creped with-inne,
Cast up the curtain & crept within
& set hir ful softly on þe bed-syde,
& seated herself softly on the bedside
& lenged þere selly longe, to loke quen he wakened.
& lingered there a long time to look when he awakened.
Þe lede lay lurked a ful longe quyle,
The lord lay lurking a good long while,
Compast in his concience to quat þat cace my3t
Compassed in his conscience as to what this case
Mene oþer amount, to meruayle hym þo3t;
Might mean or amount to. "A marvel," he thought.
Bot 3et he sayde in hym-self, " more semly hit were
But yet he said to himself, "It were more seemly
To aspye wyth my spelle [in] space quat ho wolde. "
To expose with a spell of speech what she wished."
þen he wakenede, & wroth, & to hir warde torned,
Then he awakened & writhed & towards her turned
& vn-louked his y3e-lydde3, & let as hym wondered,
& unlocked his eyelids & let on as in wonder
& sayned hym, as bi his sa3e þe sauer to worthe,
& signed himself, as if by his swearing, the safer his soul from
with hande;
the sight.
Wyth chynne & cheke ful swete,
With chin & cheeks of rose,
Boþe quit & red in-blande,
A blend both red & white,
Ful lufly con ho lete,
From lovely lips there flows
Wyth lyppe3 smal la3ande.
Small laughs with great delight.
