King Horn, Floriz and Blauncheflur, The Assumption of Our Lady
General
King Horn, Floriz and Blauncheflur, The Assumption of Our Lady
English poetry -- Middle English, 1100-1500; Mary, Blessed Virgin, Saint -- Legends; Romances, English
¶ riht at p{ri}me tide,
hy gonnen out to ryde.
hy fonnden in a grene,
a geaunt swyþe kene, 908
his feren hi{m} biside,
þat day forto abyde.
[Headnote: _The fight begins._]
[Sidenote: Cutberd strikes so hard, that the giant asks for a breathing
spell,]
¶ Þeilke bataille
Cutberd gan assaille. 912
He ȝaf de{n}tes inoȝe;
Þe kniȝtes felle iswoȝe.
His dent he gan wiþdraȝe,
For hi were neȝ aslaȝe. 916
Cubert him gan asayle;
Wolde he nawt fayle. 912
He keyte duntes ynowe;
Þe geant fel hy swowe.
Hys feren go{n}ne{n} hem wyt d{ra}we,
Þo here mayst{er} wa slawe. 916
Godmod hem gon asaylen;
nolde he nout faylen. 912
[Sidenote: [leaf 88, back]]
he ȝef duntes ynowe;
þe payen fel y swowe.
ys feren gonnen hem wiþ drawe,
for huere maister wes neh slawe. 916
[Sidenote: and says he has never before experienced such blows, save at
the hand of King Murry.]
{And} sede, “kniȝtes, nu ȝe reste
One while, ef ȝou leste.”
Hi sede, “hi neure nadde
Of kniȝte dentes so harde. 920
[_No gap in MS._ . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .]
He was of hornes ku{n}ne,
Iborn in suddenne.” 924
He seyden, “knyct þo reste
Awile ȝyf þe luste.
We neu{er}e ne hente
Of ma{n}[KH-3] so harde dunte, 920
Bute of þe king Mory,
Þat was so swyþe stordy.
He was of hornes kinne;
We slowe hym in sodenne.” 924
[Footnote KH-3: MS. adds ‘nes honde’ underdotted as a mistake.]
he seide, “knyht, þou reste
a whyle, ȝef þe leste.
y ne heuede ner of monnes hond
so harde duntes in non lond, 920
bote of þe kyng Murry,
þ{a}t wes swiþe sturdy.
he wes of hornes kenne;
y sloh him in sudenne.” 924
[Sidenote: Horn is enraged,]
¶ Horn hi{m} ga{n} to ag{ri}se,
{And} his blod arise.
Cuberd gan ag{r}ise,
And hys blod aryse.
¶ Godmod him gon agryse,
ant his blod aryse.
[Sidenote: and renews the fight.]
Biuo hi{m} saȝ he sto{n}de
Þ{a}t driue{n} hi{m} of lo{n}de, 928
{And} þ{a}t his fader sloȝ.
To hi{m} his swerd he droȝ.
By for hym he sey stonde
Þat drof hym out of londe, 928
And hys fad{er} aquelde.
He smot hym hond{er} schelde.
byforen him he seh stonde
þat drof him out of londe, 928
ant fader his a-quelde;
he smot him vnder shelde.
[Sidenote: Cutberd looks on his ring, then smites the giant through the
heart.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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