She comes to the curtain, at the Kníght she peeps,
And Gawain her welcom’d with greeting full grave.
With an amorous word the athel she answer’d,
Sat softly by his side, then suddenly laugh’d,
And with a loving look the liege she address’d:
“Sir, if ye be Gawain, greatly I wonder,
That a prince so purely disposèd to good
Is so uncouth to catch the manners of company,
And by terms if I teach you, ye tent it but ill;
Ye have forgotten again what I yesterday taught
By the truest token of talk that I knew.”
“What is that?” said the wight, “I wot not your will;
If ’tis sooth that ye say, myself am to blame.”
“ ’Tis the lesson,” said the lady, “that of kissing ye learnt—
Where countenance is clear, quickly to claim;
So becomes ev’ry knight that courtesy uses.”
“Now spare me,” quoth Gawain, “such speech any more;
That durst I ne’er do, lest denayèd I were,
And, refus’d, I’m at fault though fairly I offer.”
“By my faith,” said the fair, “and who may refuse you?
Ye are strong to constrain by strength, an you like,
If any be so boorish the boon to deny.”
“So help me God,” quoth Gawain, “though good is your speech,
Yet force is a fool’s way, on fold where I dwell,
Or any gift that is giv’n but with góod-wìll;
I am at your command, to kiss if ye care,
Ye may take when ye list, and leave when ye like,
a space.”
The lady down did bend,
Courteously kiss’d his face,
Much speech did they expend
Of love, its grief and grace.