“Look! my lord!” said the liege, and the lovelace he handled,
“This is the band of blame that I bear round my neck,
This is the dole and the damage that there was dealt me,
For the cowardice and covetise wherein I was caught;
This is the token of the untruth that I was ta’en in,
And I must needs it wear the while that I live;
A man may hide his harm but úndo he cannot,
If the knot is once knit, it may never be loos’d.”
The King him comforts; and all of the court
With laughter agreed, for love of the liege,
That lords and ladies that ’long’d to the Table,
Each one of the brotherhood, a baldric should bear,
A band worn slantwise of a bríght grèen,
After Gawain’s suit, for the sake of Gawain.
’Twas a glorious token of the’ Table Round,
And hé that hád it was hónour’d for evermore after,
As ’tis breved in the best of the books of romance.
Thus in Arthur’s time this adventure betid,
The Books of Britain bear of it witness.—
Since Brutus, the bold knight, boun’d hither first,
When the siege and the assault were ceasèd at Troy,
I wis,
Many marvels here-before
Have fallen such as this.
The crown of thorns Who bore
Now bring us to His bliss. Amen.
Hony soyt qui mal pence.