« 이전계속 »
Nowe, as you are mine unkle deare,
And as you prize your life, this daye O meet not with your foe in fighte;
Putt off the battayle, if yee maye. For sir Launcelot is nowe in Fraunce,
And with him many an hardye knighte: Who will within this moneth be backe,
And will assiste yee in the fighte.
Before the breakinge of the daye;
And there to him these wordes did saye.
That earlye in the morning, hee
To aske a parley faire and free.
The best of all that with him were:
And make with him agreement faire.
In readinesse there for to bee:
Unlesse a sword drawne they shold see.
Twelve of his knights did likewise bringe; The best of all his companye,
To hold the parley with the kinge.
In readinesse there for to bee;
But if a sworde drawne they shold see.
For he durste not his unkle truste,
Nor he his nephewe, sothe to tell:
As ere in Christentye befelle.
And both to faire accordance broughte;
Before the battayle sholde be foughte; An addere crept forth of a bushe,
Stunge one o' th' king's knightes on the knee: Alacke! it was a woefulle chance,
As ever was in Christentie.
When the knighte found him wounded sore,
And sawe the wilde-worm hanginge there;
A piteous case, as ye shall heare.
They joyned battayle instantlye;
On one side there were left but three.
For all were slain that durst abide,
And but some fewe that fled awaye: Ay mee! it was a bloodye fielde,
As ere was foughte on a summer's daye. Upon king Arthur's own partyè,
Onlye himselfe escaped there,
And the king's butler Bedevere.
All dead and scattered on the molde:
Ver. 41, 42, the folio MS. reads father .... sonne.
The teares fast trickled downe his face;
That manlye face in fight so bolde.
Nowe reste yee all, brave knights, he said,
Soe true and faithful to your trust: And must yee then, ye valiant hearts,
Be lefte to moulder into dust?
Most loyal have yee been to mee,
Most true and faithful unto deathe: And, oh! to rayse yee up againe,
How freelye could I yield my breathe!
But see, the traitor's yet alive,
Lo where hee stalkes among the deade!
O staye, my liege, then sayd the duke;
O staye for love and charitie: Remember what the vision spake,
Nor meete your foe, if it may bee.
0, staye mee not, thou worthye wight,
This debt my loyal knights I owe: Betide me life, betide me death,
I will avenge them of their foe.
Then straite he grasp'd his trustye speare,
And on his horse then mounted hee: As his butler holpe him to his horse,
His bowels gushed to his knee.
Alas! then sayd the noble king,
That I should live this sight to see! To see this good knight here be slaine,
All for his love in helping mee!
He put his speare into his reste,
And to sir Mordred loud gan crye; Nowe sette thyself upon thy guarde,
For, traitor, nowe thy death is nye.
And fierce to meet the king ran hee:
A fathom thorow his bodie.
When Mordered felt the stroke of death,
And found that he was wounded soe; He thruste himselfe upon the
speare, And strucke the king a deadlye blowe.
Then grimmlye dyed sir Mordered,
Presentlye upon that tree:
Ere to the duke returned hee.
Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake,
Sir knighte, thou hast been faithfulle tryde, Nowe take my sword Excalibara,
That hangs so freelye by my syde:
And there into the river throwe:
All use of weapons I foregoe.
A better neer had valiant knighte,
Have I withstood my foe in fighte. With this good fauchion in my hande,
Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde:
130 But nowe the fatalle houre is come,
2 More commonly called Caliburn. In the folio MS. Escalberd.
That never more I may thee weelde
The duke to the river side he went,
And there his owne sword in threwe he: But he kept back Excalibar,
He kept it back in privitie.
For all of coleyne was the blade;
And all the hilte of precious stone: And ever alacke! then sayd the knighte,
Must such a sword awaye be throwne?
Then backe he came unto the kinge,
see? Nothing my liege, save that the winde
Blewe oer the waters faire and free.
O goe againe, then said the kinge,
O good sir Lukyn, goe againe: Into the rivere throwe my sword,
Nor keepe me lingering here in paine.
The duke then to the river went,
And the kings scabberd in threwe hee: But hee kept backe Excalibar,
And hid it undernethe a tree.
Then backe he came to tell the kinge,
Who sayde, Sir Lukyn, sawe ye oughte? Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde
Nowe with the angrye waters fought.
O Lukyn, Lukyn, said the kinge,
Twice haste thou dealt deceytfullye: Alacke, whom may wee ever truste,
When suche a knighte soe false can bee?