"Dame, yf thou leve not me, Com nere and thou shalt se

Which of hem abode."

Blith was that lady bryght

ffor to se that sight;

With the knyght went she.

Whan she cam where the geaunt lay, "Sir," she said, "par ma ffay,

I wott welle it is he ;

Other he was of God Allemyght,

Or Seynt George, oure lady knyzt,
That there his bane hath be.

"Yf eny Cryston man smyte hym down, He is worthy to have renown

Thoroughoute alle Crystiaunté."

"I have wonder," said the knyght,
"How he gate the lady bryght
ffro my lord the kyng."

"Sir," she said, " verament, As my fader on huntyng went,

Erly in a mornyng;

ffor his men pursued a dere,

To his castelle that stondith here,

That doth my hondys wryng.

1680

1690

1700

"This giaunt hym toke, wo he be ! ffor his love he gevith hym me,

He wold none other thinge." fforth she brought bred and wyne, ffayn he was for to dyne.

This knyght made noble chere,
Though that he woundid were,

With the geaunt strong;

Sir Torrent dwellid no longer thare,

Than he myзt away fare,

With that lady bryght.

1710

1720

"He is so long of bone and blood, He is the geaunt, be the rode,

66

Som seith he riduth uppon."

Nay," said the Kyng, " verament, It is the knyght that I after sent,

I thanke God and seynt John!

"ffor the geaunt slayn hath he,
And wonne my doughter, welle is me!
Alle his men are tane !"

Wott ye welle, with joy and blis
Sir Torent there recevid ys,

As doughty man of dede.

The kyng and other lordys gent,
Said, "welcom, Sir Torent,

Into this uncouth lond!"

Into a state they hym brought,
Lechis sone his woundis sought,

They said, "so God hem spede!

"Were there no lyve but ane,
His liffe they wylle not undertane,
ffor no gold ne ffor mede."

The lady wist not or than,

That he was hurt, that gentilman,

And sith she went hym tylle.

E

1820

1830

1840

She sought his woundus, and said thare, "Thou shalte lyve and wel fare,

Yf the nothing evylle;

My lord the kyng hath me hight,
That thou shalt wed me, ser knyght,
The fforward ye to fulleffylle.

"Damyselle, loo here my hond! And I take eny wyffe in this lond, It shalle be at thy wylle.”

Gendres was that ladyes name,

The geauntes hede he brought hame,

And the dragons also.

Mene myght here a myle aboute,

How on the dede hedys they did shoute,

1850

ffor the shame that they had hem wrought;

Both with dede and with tong,

ffyfte on the hedys dong,

That to the ground they sought.

Sir Torrent dwellid thare

Twelfe monythis and mare,

That ffurther my3t he nought;

The kyng of Norway said, "nowe, ffals thevis, woo worth thou,

fferly sotelle were ye.

1860

"Ye said the knyght wold not com; Swith oute of my kingdome,

Or hangid shalle ye be !"

His squiers that fro hym fled,
With sore strokys are they spred,
Uppon the wanne see.

And there they drenchid every man,
Save one knave that to lond cam,

And woo begone is he;

The child to lond that God sent,
In Portyngale he is lent,

In a riche town.

That hath hight be her day,
And ever shalle, as I you say,
That town of Peron;

1870

Byfore the kyng he hym sett,

1880

ffulle welle thy men, lord, they grett,

And in the see are they drowned.

Desonelle said, "where is Torent?" "In Norway, lady, verament:"

On sownyng felle she down;

As she sownyd, this lady myld,
Men myzt se tokenyng of her child,
Sterying on her right syde.