LXXV
Then took she her leave and left him therewith, For more mirth of that man míght she not get. And the good Sir Gawain graith’d him anon, Rose and array’d him in a raiment noble, Laid by the lovelace, that the lady had raught him, And hid it with heed where eft he might find it So then to the chapel chose he the way, Approachèd a priest and privily pray’d him To lift up his life, and learn him how better His soul he should save when hence he should seek. Then he shrove him clean and show’d his misdeeds, Both the less and the more, and mercy besought, And absolution he ask’d of the priest; Who assoil’d him surely, and as sinless him made As if day of doom should have dawn’d on the morrow. Then he made him as merry among those dames With comely carols and all kinds of delight As he ne’er did ere that day, till the dark night came with bliss. Each man had courtesy Of him, and said “I wis, He ne’er was so merrie Since hither he came, ere this.”