LXXXVI
“Marry,” said his man, “if so minded thou be, That on thy ówn dear head such harm thou wilt set As to lose thine own life, I let not nor stay thee. Have thy helm on thy head, and thy spear in thy hand, And ride me down this rake by the rock-side yonder Till it bring thee to the bottom of the bare valley; Then loók a líttle on the láund on thy left hand, And thou shalt see in that slade the chapel thou seekest And the burly man on bent that bides in the place. Now good-bye, in God’s name, Gawain the noble! Not for all gold above ground would I go with thee still, Or be thy fellow through the frith, but a foot further.” Then his bridle he tugg’d, and homeward he turn’d, Set heels to his horse as hard as he might, Leapt o’er the laund and left the Knight standing alone. “By God’s self,” quoth Gawain, “I’ll neither greet nor groan, To God’s will am I fain My own will to atone.”