O happen’d this handsel to Arthur at Yule,
When for vaunting vows of adventure he yearned;
Though brave wórds had been wanting when they went to their meat,
Now are they bestead with stern work in plenty.
To begin this game was Gawain full glad,
But if the end be heavy, have ye no wonder:
For though men’s minds are merry, when mead they have ta’en,
A year swiftly yerns and yields ne’er the same—
End and beginning agree not together.
So this Yule over-pass’d and the year after,
And each season full soon ensued upon other.
After Christmas came the crabbèd Lenten
That tries us with fish, and fare more meagre.
Then the weather of the world with winter it chides,
Cold shrinks adown, clouds rise on high
And shed the sheen rain in showers full warm,
To fall upon fair field; flowers peep forth,
Grassland and grove green is their raiment,
Birds busk them to build, and bravely they sing
For solace of the summer that sues thereafter,
by way,
And blossoms swell and blow
On hedgerows rich and gay;
Then noble notes enow
In holt are heard, in May.