Chapter_90

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So Gawain arrays him in raiment full rich⁠—

His coat, with the cognisance of clear devices

Work’d upon velvet, virtuous stones

Set about by the border, embroider’d seams,

And lined full fairly with furs of the finest;

Yet he left not the lace, the lady’s guerdon,

That Gawain forgat not for good of his soul.

When he had belted his brand on his broad haunches,

Then dress’d he his druery double about him,

Wound round his waist that winsome lace,

The girdle of green that gaily beseem’d him

On the royal red so rich in semblance.

But not for its wealth did the wight wear it,

Or the pride of the pendants, though polisht they were,

And though the glittering gold gleam’d at the ends,

But to save his dear soul, when to suffer behoved⁠—

To bide bale without brand or blade to defend him

at all.

Bold man! his hour is due,

He passes from the hall,

Praises that meiny true,

And often thanks withal.