Now lithin and liftinith, and

Herkinith you aright,

And ye fhullin here me tell

You of a doughti knight.

Sir Johan of Boundis clepid was

This ilke knight'is name;
Wele coudin he of noriture,
And eke of mochil game.

Thre fonnis this knight had, and with

His bodi he them wan;

The eldest was a moche fhrew,

And fonè he began.

His brotherin lov'd thir fadir,
And of him were agaft;

Th' eldift deferv'd his fadir's curfe,
And had it at the last.

The godè knight his fadir did
Live fo long and yore, ·
That Deth was comen him unto,
And handlid him full fore.

The godè knight ycarid moch,
Sore fike ther as he lay,
How that his childerin fhuldè
Lyvin after his day.

He hadde ben widè where, but
Noon hufbondèe he was;

Alle the londe which that he had
It was veray purchas;

And fayn he wolde that it were
Dreffid among them all,

That everich of them had his part
As it mightè befall.

Tho fent he into the contrè
Aftir wife knightis,

To helpen dele his londis, and
Dreffin them to rightis.

He fent them word by letteris
That they hulde hyè blyve
If that they wol fpeken with him
While that he was on live.

Sone as thofe knightis herden how
Thus fekè that he lay,

Tho hadde they no mannir reft
Nothir by night nor day

Tyll that they comin unto him,

Ther as he layd him ftill,
Upon his deth'is bedde for to
Abidin Godd'is will.

Thus then faidin the godè knight,
Sek ther as he lay,

Lordis, I warnè you forfothe,
Withoutin any nay,

I may not lengir liven herè
In this forrowful stound,

For thorough Godd'is will fupreme
Dethe drawith me to ground.

Ther ne was no one of them allc.
That herdin him aright,

That thei ne hadde mochil routh,
Upon that ilke knight;

And feidè, Sir, for Godd'is love
Ne difmayen you nought,

God may don botè of balè

Which that is now ywrought.

Then answerid them the gode knight, Sike there as he lay,

Bote of balè God may fend,

I wote it is no nay.

But I befekè you knightis,
Al for the love of me,
Goith and dreffith my londis
Among my fonis thre.

And, frendis, for the love of God
Delith them nat amys,

And forgettith not Gamèlyn,
My yongè fon that is.

Takith hedè unto that one
As wel as to that other;
Seldome ye feine any heir
That helpe woll his brother.

Tho lettin they the knighte liggin Which that was not in hele,

And in thei wentin to counfaile

His londis for to dele;

For to delin them al too on
That was ther only thought,
And for that Gamelyn yongift was
He fhulde havin nought.

Al the londe which that ther was
They delten it in two,

And letè Gamelyn the yonge
Withouten londè go.

And evèrich of them feiden
Til othir fullè loude,

His bretherin mowe give him londe
Whan that he godis koude.

Whan they had delid the londis
After their owne will,

Tho camin they unto the knight
Ther as he lay full ftill,

And toldin unto him anon
How that they hadd ywrought,
And the knight there as he feke lay
Ylikid it right nought.

Then feide the knight angrily,
Ifware by Scint Martyn
For all that which ye have ydone
Yet is the londè myn.

For Godd'is love, my neighbouris,
Standeith ye allè still,

And I woll delin my londe.
After myn owne will.

Johan myn eldist fone shall
Yhave plowis five,

That was my fadir's heritage
While that he was on live;
And middillift fonè fhall'
Five plowis have of lond
That I holpe for to gettin
With myn own rightè hond;
And all myn othir purchasis
Of landis and of ledes,
That I bequethè Gamèlyn,
And alle my gode stedes.

And I befeke you, gode men,
That lawis con of lond,
For Gamèlyn'is love that
Thus my bequest may stond.

Thus delid hath the gode knighte
His londè be his dai,
Right upon his deth'is beddè,
Sore fike ther as he lay :

And fone aftirwerdis he

Lay as a ftone still,

And dyid whan the tymè came,
As it was Crift'is will.

Anon aftir that he was dede,.
And undir grafs ygrave,
Tho fone the eldir brothir
Begylid the yonge knave.

He tokin into his hondis
His londis and his lede,
And alfo Gamelyn himself
To clothin and to fede.

He clothid him and fedde him
Evil and eke wroth,

And letin his londis for fare,
And als his houfis both;

His parkis eke, and his wodis,
And diddè nothyng wel,
And fithin he it aboughte
On his own feire fell.

So longè tyme was Gamèlyn

In his brother's Hall,

For the ftrengift of gode will
They doutidin him all.

There ne was none wight in that place,

Nothir yongè ne olde,

That wolde wrathin Gamèlyn

Were he nevir fo bold.

After came his brothir in
Ywalkyng ftatelich thare,
And feide unto Gamèlyn,
What is our metè yare?

Tho Gamelyn ywrothid hym,
And fwore by Godd'is boke,
Thou fhalt y go bake, luke, thy self;
I wol not be thy coke.

How, brothir Gamèlyn, quod he,
Thus anfwerift me thou?
Thou fpakift nevir foche a word
Yet as thou doist now.

By my faith, feidè Gamèlyn,
Now me it thinkith nede;
Of all the harmis that I have.
I nevir yit toke hede.

My parkis ben y brokin, and
My deir ben yreved;
Of myn harnis and my ftedis
Noght is there me beleved.

Al that my fadir me bequethe
Al goith now to shame,

And therefore have thou Godd'is curse, Brothir John by thy name.

Than thus befpakin his brothir,
That rapè was of vees,

Stondith ftille, thou gadiling,
And holdith right thy pees:

Thou shaltè ben ful faign to have
Thy metè and thy wede.
What fpckift thou, thou gadiling,
Of lond othir of lede ?

Then feide to him Gamèlyn,
The childè that was yinge,
Christ'is curfè mote he havin
That clepith me Gadlyng.

I am no wors gadlying than the,
Parde ne no wors wight,
But born I was of a lady,
And gottin of a knyght.

Ne durft he not to Gamelyn
Not oo fote ferthir go,
But clepid to him his meinè,
And feide to them tho;

Goith and betith wele this boy,

And ravith him his wit,
And let him lere another time
To answering me bett.

Then feid the chyld, yong Gamėlyn,

Christ'is curfe mote thou havin

What? brother art thou myn.
And if that I shal algatis
Y betin be anon,

Crift'is curfe mote thou havin
But that thou be that one.

And right anon his brothir did,
In that his gret hete,
Makin his mein fett ftavis,
This Gam lyn to bete.

Whan everich of them had a staff
Into his hond nomin,
Gamelyn was awar: tho,
He forfaugh them comin.

Tho Gamelyn saugh them comin
He lokid ovir all,

And was ware of a peftil
Stodè undir the wall.

And Gamelyn was fully light,
And thidir gan he lepe,

And droffe all his brother's men
Right fone on an hepe.

He lokid like a wild lion,
And laidin on gode wone;
Tho whan his brothir feye that
He begann to gonne.

He fleigh up untill a loftè,
And fhet the dore faft:
Thus Gam lyn with his peftil
Mad them all agaft

Some for Gamelyn'is love,

And fome for his envie,

Alle withdrowen them to halves

Tho he began to pleie :

What now? feide Gamèlyn; brothir,

Evil motè ye the;

Wolle ye beginnin contek
And than fo fon fle?

Gam lyn fought his brothir tho
Whithir he was yflowe,

And faugh where that he lokid out
At a folere windowe.

Brothir, tho feidè Gam lyn,
Comith a litil nere,

And I wol techin the a plaie
Attè the bokillere.

His brothir to hym answerid,
And swore by Seint Richere,
While the peftil is in thyn honde
I woll comin no nere.

Brothir, I woll makin the pece,

1 fwere by Crift's ore; Caftith away the peftil tho, And wrathè the na more.

I mot nedis, feide Gamelyn, Wrathè me at onys,

For that thou woldist make thy men To breikin my bonis.

Ne had I haddin meyn and might, In myn ownè twey armes,

To have y pufhin them fro me

They would have done me harmes.

To Gamèlyn tho feidin his
Brothir; Be thou not wrothe,
For to fein the havin harme
Me werin rightè lothe.

I ne did it not, my brothir,
But right for a fonding,
For to lokin if thou were ftrong,
And art fo very ying.

Come adoun then to me, quod he,
And graunt me my bone,
Of oo thing I wol afkin the,
And we fhul faughtè fone.

Adoun then camin his brothir,
That fikill was and fell,
And was swith right fore aghaft
Of that ilkè peftil.

He feide, Brothir Gamèlyn;
Afkè me now thy bone,
And loke that you me blamè, but
I graunte it full sone.

Tho feiden yongè Gamèlyn;
Brothir myne, I wifs

And if we fhullè ben at one
Thou must me graunte this:

Al that my fadir me bequethe,
While that he was on live,
Thou muftè do me it to have,
If that we fhul not ftrive.

That thou shalt havè, Gamèlyn,
I fwere by Crift'is ore,
Al that thy fadir the bequethe,
Though thou woldift have more.
Thy londè, that now lyith lie,
Full well it fhall be fowe,

And thyne houfis yraifid up

That now ben layd full lowe.

Thus feide the knight to Gamèlyn,

But only with his mouth,

And thought but of falfèness,
As he right welè couth.

The knightè thoughtin on traison,
But Gam lyn on noon,

And went and kiflid his brothir,
And then they were at oon.

Alas for yonge Gamelyn!
Nothing at all he wift

With fwich falfè traifon
His brothir hath him kift.
Lithinith and leftinith, and
Holdith you ftille your tonge,
And ye fhull herin ftraunge talking
Of Gamelyn the yonge.

There happid to be there befide
Tryid a wraftiling,

And therefore there was yfettin
A ram and als a ring.

And Gamelyn was in a will
To wende thereunto,

For to previn his mighte, and fe
What that he couthe do.

Now brothir myne, quod Gamèlyn,
By holic Seint Richere

Thou muftè nedis lene to night

Me a litil courfere,

That is frefhè to the sporis, Upon him for to ride;

I muftin on an errand go

A litil here befide.

Be God, feide his brothir tho,
Of ftedis in my stall

Goith and chofith the the beft,
And sparith none of alle,

Of ftedis or of courferis,
That ftondith 'hem befide,
And tellith me, my gode brothir,
Whithur thou wiltè ride.

Here befidis, brothir, is
Y cryid a wraftling,
And therefore fhalle ben y fett
A ram and als a ring.

Moche worship it were fothly,
Brothir, unto us all

Might I the ram and als the ring Bringin home to the Hall.

A ftede there was fadilid,
Smarth was it and eke flete;
Gamelyn diddin a peire of
Sporis faft on his fete.

He fat his fote in the stirrop,
The ftede he beftrode,
And towardis the wraftilling
The yongè childè rode.

Tho Gamelyn the yongè was
Riddin out at the gate,
The falfe knight his own brothir
Lokkid it aftir thate.

And he befoughtin Jefu Crift,
That is of hevin king,

That he mightè brekin his nek
In that ilk wraftiling.

Affone as Gamèlyn cam there
The wraftling place was
He lightid down of the stede
And ftodin on the gras.

And ther he herd a frankelyn

Weloway for to fing,
And beganin all bittirly
His handis for to wring.
Gode man, feide Gamelyn,
Why makift thou this fare?

Is ther no man that may you help
Out of this nicè care?

Alas! feide this franklyn,

That evir I was bore!

For tweiè ftalworthe fonis
I wene I have forlore.

A champion is in the place
That has wroughtin me forow,
For he hath flayn my too fonis
But if that God them borrow.

I wolde givin ten poundis, Be Jefu Crift, and more, With the nonis I fond a man To handilin him fore.

Gode man, feidè Gam`lyn, Wilt thou this welè done?

Holde my hors while that my man Ydrawith of my fhone.

And helpe my man also to kepe My clothis and my stede, And I woll into the place gon And loke how I may spede.

By God, feide the frankclyn,
It fhall right fo be don,

I woll my filfin be thy man
To drawin of thy fhone.

And wende you into the place,
Swete Jefu Crift the fpede,
And dredè not of thy clothis
Nor of thy godè ftcde.

Barefote and ungert Gamèlyn
Into the ringe came,

Alle that werin in the place
Hedin of him the name,

How he durftin aventure him
On him to don his might
That was fo doughti a champion
In wraftling and in fight.

Upfterte tho the champion
Ful rapely right anon,
Towardis yongè Gamelyn
He tho began to gon,

And feide, Who is thy fadir, And who is eke thy fire? Forfothè thou art a gret fole For that thou camist hire.

Anon Gamelyn answerid The ftout champion tho, Thou knewift full wele my fadir While that he couthè go:

Whilis that he was on live,

I fwere by Seint Martyn,
Sir John of Boundis was his name,
And I am Gamelyn.

Felawe, feide the champion,
So evir mote I thrive,

I knew right welè thy fadir
While that he was on live;

And thy felfin, yonge Gamèlyn,
I will that thou it here,
Whiles thou wert a yongè boy
A moche threw thou were.

Then feidè yongè Gamèlyn,
And fwore bi Crift'is ore,
Now am I oldir wox thou fhalt
Y findin me a more.

Be God, feide the champion,
Welcome motè thou be;
Come thou onys in my honde
Shaltin thou nevir the.

It was welè within the night, And bright the mone fhone, Whan Gamelyn and the champion Togidir gan to gon.

The champion caftè tornis
To Gamelyn that was preft,
And Gamelyn ftodin ftille,
And bad him don his best.

Then feiden yongè Gamelyn
Unto the champion,
Now that I have fully provid
Many tornis of thine,

Thou moftin, feide Gamblyn,

Prove oon or two of myn.
Gamelyn to the champion
Yede fmartily anon,

Of al the tornis that he coude
He fhewid him but one;

And keft him on the liftè fide
That thre ribbis to brak,
And thereunto his left arme,
That gaf a grettè crak.

Than feide yongè Gamelyn
Smertly to him anon,
Shall it be holdin for a cast,
Or ellis go for none?

Bi God, feide the champion,
Whedir fo that it be,

He that ones comith in thyn hand
Shallin he nevir the.

Than feide the frankèlyn, that
Thre fonis there had lore,
Bleflid be thou, yong Gamèlyn,
That ever thou were bore!

For now unto the champion
This have I tor to feie,
This is the yongè Gamelyn
That taught the to pleie.

Ayen anfwerde the champion,
That likid nothyng well,
He is all their maiftir, and
His pleie is right fell.

Sithin that I wriftilid firft
It is agon full yore,

But I was nevir in my life
Handilid fo before.

Yonge Gamelyn ftode in the place
Allone withouten ferk,

And feide, If there be any mo
Let them come to werk.

The champion which that painid
Him to workin fo fore,

It femith by his countinaunce
That he willè no more.
Gamelyn in the place ftode

Stille as any stone

For to abidin wraftiling,

But there ycomith none.

There ne was none with Gamèlyn

That wolde wrestle more,

For he handilid the champion

So wonderoully fore.

Two gentilmeine that owned the place

Come to Gamelyn, God geve them grace!"

And feide to him, Have done on

Thy hofin and thy fhone;

Forfothe at this time all

This faire it is ydone.

Tho feide to them Gamelyng

30 mote I well yfare,

I have not yet halvindele

Yolde all my ware.

Than feide the champion fo broke,.

Imay it wele fwere

He is a fole that therof bieth,

Thou felleft it so dere.

I ho feide to him the franklyn,
That was in mochill care,
Fellaw, he faide, whi lakkist
Thou fo moche of his ware?

Be Seint Jame, that in Galis is,
That many man has fought,
Yet it is moche too gode chepe
That thou haften ybought.

Tho that the wardinis werin
Of that ilk wraftiling

Comin forth, and brought Gamèlyt
The ram and als the ring.

And thus wann yongè Gamèlyn
The ram and cke the ring,
And wentè forth with mochil joy
Homeward in the morning.

His brothir fe where that he come
With all the grettè rout,

And bad the porter fhute the gate,
And holdin him without.

The porter of his lord'is word
Was fo right fore agast,
And ftert anon unto the gate
And lokkid it full faft.

Now lithinith and leftinith
Bothè yongè and old,
And ye fhullin here gamin
Of Gamelyn the bold.

Gamelyn cometh therunto
For to have comen in;

But all in vaine; the dore then was
Y hitt faft with a pyn.

Than feidè yongè Gamèlyn,
Porter, undo the yate,

For many a godè mann'is
Sonnè ftondith thereat.

Then anfwerid him the porter,
And fwore by Godd'is berde,
Thou ne fhalt, frende Gamèlyn,
Comin into this yerde.

Thou lyift, feidè Gamèlyn, So broukin I my chynne:

He fmote the wikit with his fote,

And brak away the pyn.

The porter ftreightwey faughe the

It might no bettir be,

He fette fote on erthè, and
Faft he began to fle.

Bi my faith, feidè Gamelyn,
That travaile is ylore,
For I am on fote as light as
Thow, though thow had yfwore,.
Gamelyn ovirtoke the porter,
And his teenè ywrak,

And gert him full upon the nek,
That he the bon to brak;

And toke him by that oon arme,
And threw him in a well;
Seven hundrid fadom it was depe,
As I have herde telle.

Whan Gamelyn the yongè thus
Had yplaied his play,
Alle that in the yerde were
Withdrewin them away