In oldë dayës of the king Arthoúr, Of which that Britons speakë great honoúr, All was this land full fill’d of faërie; The Elf-queen, with her jolly company, Danced full oft in many a green mead. This was the old opinion, as I read; I speak of many hundred years ago; But now can no man see none elvës mo’, For now the great charitý and prayéres Of limitours, and other holy freres, That search every land and ev’ry stream, As thick as motës in the sunnë-beam, Blessing halls, chambers, kitchenës, and bowers, Cities and burghës, castles high and towers, Thorpës and barnës, shepens and dairies, This makes that there be now no faëries: For there as wont to walkë was an elf, There walketh now the limitour himself, In undermelës and in morrownings, And saith his matins and his holy things, As he goes in his limitatioún. Women may now go safely up and down, In every bush, and under every tree; There is none other incubus but he; And he will do to them no dishonoúr.
And so befell it, that this king Arthoúr Had in his house a lusty bachelér, That on a day came riding from rivér: And happen’d, that, alone as she was born, He saw a maiden walking him beforn, Of which maiden anon, maugré her head, By very force he reft her maidenhead: For which oppressión was such clamoúr, And such pursuit unto the king Arthoúr, That damned was this knight for to be dead By course of law, and should have lost his head; (Paráventure such was the statute tho), But that the queen and other ladies mo’ So long they prayed the king of his grace, Till he his life him granted in the place, And gave him to the queen, all at her will To choose whether she would him save or spill. The queen thanked the king with all her might; And, after this, thus spake she to the knight, When that she saw her time upon a day. “Thou standest yet,” quoth she, “in such array, That of thy life yet hast thou no suretý; I grant thee life, if thou canst tell to me What thing is it that women most desiren: Beware,