First he was found faultless in his fíve wìts,
Nor failèd he ever in his five fingers,
And his affiance on field was in the fíve woùnds
That Christ got on Cross, as the creed tells us;
And whereso this man was in mellay bestead
His thought was on this, above all things else,
That his courage he caught from the five joys
That the high Queen of heaven had in her Child.
For which cause the good Knight becomingly bore
In the úpper hálf of his shíeld Her image depainted,
That when he glanced on that Fair his force never falter’d.
The fifth five, as I find, that this free usèd
Were fraunchise and fellowship before all else,
Cleanness and courtesy, known in him ever,
And pity, that passes all—these pure five
Were more happ’d on this athel than on all other knights.
And these thews, all five, were so throng upon him,
They ran each into other, nor any end had,
On five points fixt that failèd never,
Along ev’ry line neither link’d nor sunder’d,
But everywhere endless, at each angle alike,
Where the game e’er began, or glode to an end.
Wherefore on his sheen shield was shapen this knot
Royally, with red gold upon réd gùles.
Which the pure pentangle by people is call’d
of lore.
Now graith’d is Gawain gay,
His trusty lance he bore,
He gave them all Good-day,
He deem’d for evermore.