The bridge was drawn down, and the bróad gàtes
On both hands unbarr’d, and borne wide open;
And he blessèd himself and the board rode over.
He prais’d the porter, (who kneel’d to the prince,
Giving him “Good-day,” and “God save Gawain”)
Then went on his way with the wight alone
That should guide him i’ the gate to the gloomy place
Where behoved him endure the doleful onset.
They rode by banks where boughs were bare,
They clomb by cliffs where the cóld clùng;
High were the clouds, but ’twas ugly thereunder;
It mizzled on the moor, on the mountains it pour’d—
Each hill had a hat and a hood of vapour.
Brooks boil’d and broke as their banks they swept,
And shatter’d on shores where adown they shot.
Oh! wildsome was the way where by wood they should ride,
Till ’twas soon the season when the sun rises
that tide.
They were on a hill full high,
The white snow lay beside;
The squire that rode him by
Then bade the knight abide: