his shirt an haketon, And over that an habergeon, For piercing of his heart; And over that a fine hauberk, Was all y-wrought of Jewës’ werk, Full strong it was of plate; And over that his coat-armoúr, As white as is the lily flow’r, In which he would debate. His shield was all of gold so red, And therein was a boarë’s head, A charboucle beside; And there he swore on ale and bread, How that the giant should be dead, Betide whatso betide. His jambeaux were of cuirbouly, His swordë’s sheath of ivory, His helm of latoun bright, His saddle was of rewel bone, His bridle as the sunnë shone, Or as the moonëlight. His spearë was of fine cypress, That bodeth war, and nothing peace; The head full sharp y-ground. His steedë was all dapple gray, It went an amble in the way Full softëly and round In land. Lo, Lordës mine, here is a fytt; If ye will any more of it, To tell it will I fand.
Now hold your mouth for charity, Bothë knight and lady free, And hearken to my spell; Of battle and of chivalry, Of ladies’ love and druerie, Anon I will you tell. Men speak of rómances of price Of Horn Child, and of Ipotis, Of Bevis, and Sir Guy, Of Sir Libeux, and Pleindamour, But Sir Thopas, he bears the flow’r Of royal chivalry. His goodë steed he all bestrode, And forth upon his way he glode, As sparkle out of brand; Upon his crest he bare a tow’r, And therein stick’d a lily flow’r; God shield his corse from shand! And, for he was a knight auntroús, He wouldë sleepen in none house, But liggen in his hood, His brightë helm was his wangér, And by him baited his destrér Of herbës fine and good. Himself drank water of the well, As did the knight Sir Percivel, So worthy under weed; Till on a day— ⋮