For mervaille of this knight; him to behold
Ful besily they waiten yong and old.

This strange knight that come thus sodenly Al armed save his hed ful richely, Salueth king and quene, and lordes alle By order, as they saten in the halle, With so high reverence and observance, As wel in speche as in his contenance, That Gawain with his olde curtesie, Though he were come agen out of faerie, Ne coude him not amenden with a word. And after this, beforn the highe bord He with a manly vois sayd his message, After the forme used in his langage, Withouten vice of sillable or of letter. And for his tale shulde seme the better, Accordant to his wordes was his chere, As techeth art of speche hem that it lere. Al be it that I cannot soune his stile, Ne cannot climben over so high a stile, Yet say I this, as to comun entent, Thus much amounteth all that ever he ment, If it so be that I have it in mind.

He sayd; the king of Arabie and of Inde, My liege lord, on this solempne day Salueth you as he best can and may, And sendeth you in honour of your feste By me, that am al redy at your heste, This stede of bras, that esily and wel Can in the space of a day naturel, (This is to sayn, in four and twenty houres) Wher so you list, in drought or elles shoures, Beren your body into every place, To which your herte willeth for to pace,

Withouten wemme of you, thurgh foule or faire.
Or if you list to fleen as high in the aire,
As doth an egle, whan him list to sore,
This same stede shal bere you evermore
Withouten harme, till ye be ther you lest,
(Though that ye slepen on his back or rest)
And turne again, with writhing of a pin.
He that it wrought, he coude many a gin;
He waited many a constellation,
Or he had don this operation,
And knew ful many a sele and many a bond.

This mirrour eke, that I have in min hond,
Hath swiche a might, that men may in it see,
Whan ther shal falle ony adversitee
Unto your regne, or to yourself also,
And openly, who is your frend or fo.
And over all this, if any lady bright
Hath set hire herte on any maner wight,
If he be false, she shal his treson see,
His newe love, and all his subtiltee
So openly, that ther shal nothing hide.
Wherfore again this lusty somer tide
This mirrour and this ring, that ye may se,
He hath sent to my lady Canace,
Your excellente doughter that is here.

The vertue of this ring, if ye wol here, Is this, that if hire list it for to were Upon hire thombe, or in hire purse it bere, Ther is no foule that fleeth under heven, That she ne shal wel understond his steven, And know his mening openly and plaine, And answere him in his langage again: And every gras that groweth upon rote She shal eke know, and whom it wol do bote,

All be his woundes never so depe and wide.
This naked swerd, that hangeth by my side,
Swiche vertue hath, that what man that it smite,
Thurghout his armure it wol kerve and bite,
Were it as thicke as is a braunched oke:
And what man that is wounded with the stroke
Shal never be hole, til that you list of grace
To stroken him with the platte in thilke place
Ther he is hurt; this is as much to sain,
Ye moten with the platte swerd again
Stroken him in the wound, and it wol close.
This is the veray soth withouten glose,
It failleth not, while it is in your hold.

And whan this knight hath thus his tale told,
He rideth out of halle, and doun he light:
His stede, which that shone as sonne bright,
Stant in the court as stille as any ston.
This knight is to his chambre ladde anon,
And is unarmed, and to the mete ysette.
Thise presents ben ful richelich yfette,
This is to sain, the swerd and the mirrour,
And borne anon into the highe tour,
With certain officers ordained therfore;
And unto Canace the ring is bore
Solempnely, ther she sat at the table;
But sikerly, withouten any fable,
The hors of bras, that may not be remued;
It stant, as it were to the ground yglued;
Ther may no man out of the place it drive
For non engine, of windas, or polive:
And cause why, for they con not the craft,
And therfore in the place they han it laft,
Til that the knight hath taught hem the manere
To voiden him, as ye shal after here.

Gret was the prees, that swarmed to and fro
To gauren on this hors that stondeth so:
For it so high was, and so brod and long,
So wel proportioned for to be strong,
Right as it were a stede of Lumbardie;
Therwith so horsly, and so quik of eye,
As it a gentil Poileis courser were:
For certes, fro his tayl unto his ere
Nature ne art ne coud him not amend
In no degree, as all the peple wend.

But evermore hir moste wonder was,
How that it coude gon, and was of bras;
It was of faerie, as the peple semed.
Diverse folk diversely han demed;
As many heds, as many wittes ben.
They murmured, as doth a swarme of been,
And maden skilles after hir fantasies,
Rehersing of the olde poetries,
And sayd it was ylike the Pegasee,
The hors that hadde winges for to flee,
Or elles it was the Grekes hors Sinon,
That broughte Troye to destruction,
As men moun in thise olde gestes rede.

Min herte (quod on) is evermore in drede,
I trow som men of armes ben therin,
That shapen hem this citee for to win:
It were right good that al swiche thing were know.
Another rowned to his felaw low,

And sayd, He lieth, for it is rather like
An apparence ymade by som magike,
As jogelours plaien at thise festes grete.
Of sondry doutes thus they jangle and trete,
As lewed peple demen comunly

Of thinges, that ben made more subtilly,

Than they can in hir lewednesse comprehende, They demen gladly to the badder ende.

And som of hem wondred on the mirrour, That born was up in to the maister tour, How men mighte in it swiche thinges see. Another answerd, and sayd, it might wel be Naturelly by compositions Of angles, and of slie reflections; And saide that in Rome was swiche on. They speke of Alhazen and Vitellon, And Aristotle, that writen in hir lives Of queinte mirrours, and of prospectives, As knowen they, that han hir bookes herd.

And other folk han wondred on the swerd,
That wolde percen thurghout every thing:
And fell in speche of Telephus the king,
And of Achilles for his queinte spere,
For he coude with it bothe hele and dere,
Right in swiche wise as men may with the swerd,
Of which right now ye have yourselven herd.
They speken of sondry harding of metall,
And speken of medicines therwithall,
And how, and whan it shuld yharded be,
Which is unknow algates unto me.

Thọ speken they of Canacees ring,
And saiden all, that swiche a wonder thing
Of craft of ringes herd they never non,
Save that he Moises and king Salomon
Hadden a name of conning in swiche art.
Thus sain the peple, and drawen hem apart.

But natheles som saiden that it was
Wonder to maken of ferne ashen glas,
And yet is glas nought like ashen of ferne,
But for they han yknowen it so ferne,