Pearl Poet

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a late 14th century romance, written in the alliterative form and in the north-west Midland dialect of Middle English. The author is now referred to as the Gawain Poet or the Pearl Poet, his real name being unknown.

Translations are taken from the version by Brian Stone (Harmondsworth, 1974) ISBN 0140440925.

• And also an oþer maner meued him eke,
  Þat he þurз nobelay had nomen he wolde neuer ete
  Upon such a dere day er hym deuised were
  Of sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale
  Of sum mayn meruayle þat he myзt trawe
  Of of alderes of armes of oþer auenturus.
  • Still, he was stirred now by something else:
    His noble announcement that he never would eat
    On such a fair feast-day till informed in full
    Of some unusual adventure, as yet untold,
    Of some momentous marvel that he might believe,
    About ancestors, or arms, or other high theme.
  • Line 90.

• Wheþer hade he no helme ne hawbergh nauþer,
  Ne no pysan ne no plate þat pented to armes,
  Ne no schafte ne no schelde to schwue ne to smyte,
  Bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe,
  Þat is grattest in grene when greuez ar bare,
  And an ax in his oþer, a hoge and vnmete,
  A spetos sparþe to expoun in spelle, quoso myзt.
  Þe lenkþe of an elnзerde þe large hede hade.
  • Yet hauberk and helmet had he none,
    Nor plastron nor plate-armour proper to combat,
    Nor shield for shoving, nor sharp spear for lunging;
    But he held a holly cluster in one hand, holly
    That is greenest when groves are gaunt and bare,
    And an axe in his other hand, huge and monstrous,
    A hideous helmet-smasher for anyone to tell of;
    The head of that axe was an ell-rod long.
  • Line 203.

• After crystenmasse com þe crabbed lentoun
  Þat fraystez flesch wyth þe fysche and fode more symple.
  Bot þenne þe weder of þe worlde wyth wynter hit þrepez,
  Colde clengez adoun, cloudez vplyften,
  Schyre schedez þe rayn in schowrez ful warme,
  Fallez vpon fayre flat, flowrez þere schewen,
  Boþe groundez and þe greuez grene ar her wedez,
  Bryddez busken to bylde, and bremlych syngen
  For solace of þe softe somer þat sues þerafter
  Bi bonk.
  • After Christmas comes the crabbed Lenten time,
    Which forces on the flesh fish and food yet plainer.
    Then weather more vernal wars with the wintry world,
    The cold ebbs and declines, the clouds lift,
    In shining showers the rain sheds warmth
    And falls upon the fair plain, where flowers appear;
    The grassy lawns and groves alike are garbed in green;
    Birds prepare to build, and brightly sing
    The solace of the ensuing summer that soothes hill
    And dell.
  • Line 502.

• For werre wrathed hym not so much þat wynter nas wors,
  When þe colde cler water fro þe cloudez schadde,
  And fres er hit falle myзt to þe fale erþe;
  Ner slayn wyth þe slete he sleped in his yrnes
  Mo nyзtez þen innoghe in naked rokkez,
  Þer as claterande fro þe crest þe colde borne rennez,
  And henged heзe ouer his hede in hard iisse-ikkles.
  • Yet the warring little worried him; worse was the winter,
    When the cold clear water cascaded from the clouds
    And froze before it could fall to the fallow earth.
    Half-slain by the sleet, he slept in his armour
    Night after night among the naked rocks,
    Where the cold streams splashed from the steep crests
    Or hung high over his head in hard icicles.
  • Line 726.

• Bi a mounte on þe morne meryly he rydes
  Into a forest ful dep, þat ferly watz wylde,
  Hiзe hillez on vche a halue, and holtwodez vnder
  Of hore okez ful hoge a hundreth togeder;
  Þe hasel and þe haзþorne were harled al samen,
  With roзe raged mosse rayled aywhere,
  With mony bryddez vnblyþe vpon bare twyges,
  Þat pitosly þer piped for pyne of þe colde.
  • Merrily in the morning by a mountain he rode
    Into a wondrously wild wooded cleft,
    With high hills on each side overpeering a forest
    Of huge hoary oaks, a hundred together.
    The hazel and the hawthorn were intertwined
    With rough ragged moss trailing everywhere,
    And on the bleak branches birds in misery
    Piteously piped away, pinched with cold.
  • Line 740.

• We lorde quoþ þe gentyle knyзt
  Wheþer þis be þe grene chapelle?
  He myзt aboute mydnyзt
  Þe dele his matynnes telle.
  • "O God, is this the Chapel Green
    This mound?" said the noble knight.
    "At such might Satan be seen
    Saying matins at midnight."
  • Line 2185.

• I sende hir to asay þe, and sothly me þynkkez
  On þe fautlest freke þat euer on fote зede;
  As perle bi þe quite pese is of prys more,
  So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi oþer gay knyztez.
  • I instructed her to try you, and you truly seem
    To be the most perfect paladin ever to pace the earth.
    As the pearl to the white pea in precious worth,
    So in good faith is Gawain to other gay knights.
  • Line 2362.