So this lord is laiking by linden-wood eaves,
And the good man, Gawain, in gay bed sleeping
Lies snug till any gleam glimmers on wall,
Under coverlet clean, curtain’d about.
As on slumber he slid, a sly noise heard he,
A little din at his door, which daintily open’d;
He heav’d up his head out of the clothes,
A corner of the curtain he caught up a little,
And watched full warily what it might be.
’Twas the lady herself, lovely to look on,
Who drew the door after, so stealthy and still,
And boun’d toward the bed; and he blush’d and shamed him,
Slipt him down slyly, and look’d as if sleeping.
Then stepped she stilly, and stole to the bed,
Cast up the curtain, and creeping within it
Sat her full softly on the béd-sìde,
And waited a while to watch when he waken’d.
Long time did Gawain lie there lurking,
Cast in his conscience what such a case
Might mean or amount to: marvel him thought it!
Yet he said to himself more seemly it were
By speech or by spell to aspy her intent.
Then he waken’d, and wroth him, and toward her turn’d,
And opening his eye-lids with an air of surprise
For his safety him sain’d, and in secret a prayer
he said.
Winsome of chin and cheek,
With blent hues white and red,
Full kindly did she speak
And with dainty lips laughèd.