μεταμορφώσεις

[Jeff Bernstein]

Canto 43. How the King forgave the Fox all things, and made him Sovereign and greatest over all his lands.

 

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The Lion King answered Reynard the Fox,

     saying, “Reynard, ye be one that oweth

     me homage, which I hope ye will always

     do so. And also I say that henceforth

     ye shall be of my council, and sitteth

     as one of my justices. See to it well

     that ye not misdo anymore, but keep faith.

     I return you to your might and power,

and Sir Reynard, ye shall be as ye were before.”

 

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The King said, “See that you further all matters

     to the best right; for when you set your thought

     to virtue and goodness, then no advice

     is like to yours in high counsel and sharp wit,

     nor subtler in finding remedy for trouble.

     May you stay righteous, and always be true.

     In fact, henceforth I shall step back from work,

    and do by your word and rule. And any

who misdo you shall suffer my vengeance on them.”

 

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“From now on ye shall speak and say my words

     for me, and in all our land you shall reign

     as king over us. This office is yours.

     Occupy it with responsibility.”

     Then all of Reynard’s friends and lineage

     thanked the King highly. The King said to all,

     “I would do more for your sake than ye know.”

     And the Court celebrated, and the King

added, “I pray you all remind him to be true.”

 

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Dame Rukenawe the She-Ape answered him.

    “Yes, my Lord, certainly, he shall be true,

     and never think the contrary. If he be grim,

     he were no longer our kin or lineage,

     and I would renounce him, and would ever

     hinder him to the best of my power.

     But we have nothing to worry about”

     (she added); “Reynard the Fox reminds us

of all that is best in the nature of the Beast.”

 

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Reynard the Fox, smiling, thanked his Aunt

     for her courteous words; then thanked the King,

     saying, “Dear Lord, I am not worthy to hold

     the worship that ye give to me. I shall think

     thereon, and give you answer expedient

     to your good grace.” Herewith he departed

     with his friends from the King, and left the Court.

     Now hear what happened to Isengrim the Wolf.

Bruno the Bear, Tibert the Cat, and Ersewynde

 

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and her children and all their lineage

     carried Isengrim’s body from the field

     and laid him down on a litter of hay,

     and covered him warm, and looked to his wounds

     which were well past the number of twenty.

     And there came to him masters and surgeons

     who washed his wounds and bound them; but his pains

     would be a bother for a while yet,

and he was so sick and feeble that he cried long.

 

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They rubbed him under his temples and eyes,

     but he would not leave off his loud wailing,

     and they were afraid that he had gone mad.

     The masters gave him a drink, and he slept;

     then they comforted his wife, and told her

     her husband was saved, and would keep his life,

     but they couldn’t promise about his balls.

     ¶ So the Court broke up. The Beasts departed

each to their places and the homes that they came from.

 

 

Canto 44. How the Fox with his friends and lineage departed nobly from the King and went to his castle Malperduys.

 

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I will leave you now. There is in the world

     much seed yet of the Fox which now groweth

     and cometh up sore. Though they wear no red,

     there roam more foxes now than e’er before.

     The righteous Beasts are now all lost to us;

     truth has been fordriven and exiled;

     those that abide with us covet and hate,

     envy, and spread falsehood; but I have said

enough; and who am I to write of these misdeeds?

 

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I have enough to worry with myself.

     So I think it better to hold my peace,

     suffer in silence, do the best I can,

     and in that time reform myself to be

     better than I am, for the common good.

     I counsel every person to do this,

     here and now in this present life of ours.

     Fixing ourselves would bring us best profit.

We must do it now for we can’t fix it later.

 

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Reynard’s friends and lineage to the number

     of forty also took leave of the King;

     and they went with Reynard through the forest;

     and deep inside the obscuring branches

     they came to Castle Malperdy. Meanwhile

     the Fox had been thinking of how right glad

     he was, that he had so composed himself

     before the King. He admired his work

which had let him go into the world without shame.

 

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He also thought of how he might hinder

     his enemies, and what to do should he

     be blamed for it; for such foresight is wise.

     So Fox and his Friends at deep Malperdy

     celebrated their fortune and happiness.

     Reynard did them a wonderful reverence,

     thanking them all friendlylike for their faith

     and the worship they had done and showed him.

He offered to each his help, if ever they had need.

 

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Then the Beasts departed, and each of them

     went to their houses. The Fox went to his wife

     Dame Ermelyne, who welcomed him friendly.

     He told her and his children all the wonder

     that befell him at Court, leaving out nothing.

     The children were right glad that their father

     was so enhancéd and great with the King.

     And the Fox lived with his Wife and Children

in great joy and gladness happily ever after.

 

 

                                                              POSTSCRIPT

 

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If anyone says different of the Fox

     than ye have heard or read, believe it a lie.

     But this that ye have heard or read, this ye

     may well believe. Who believeth it not,

     is not therefore out of the right belief;

     even so, there be many who saw it

     who hold no less doubt, although they saw it.

     On the other hand, there be many things

believed by many, though these things were never seen.

 

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Those that read the matter of this poem,

     though it be of jests, may find yet therein

     many a good wisdom, both to eschew

     sin and vices, and to come to virtue

     and worship. No true person among us

     is blamed herein; all is spoken generally.

     Let they who think themselves guilty repent,

     and those who are good, may God keep them so.

If I’ve influenced anything bad, blame the Fox.

 

Praying all them that shall see this little treatise / to correct and amend / Where they shall find fault / For I have not added nor mysnusshed but have followed as nigh as I can copy which was in Dutch / and by me William Caxton translated in to this rude and simple englyssh in the abbey of Westminster. / fynysshed the 6th day of June the year of our lord 1481 and the 21th year of the reign of Kynge Edward the iiijth /

 

The End

of

Scrooby’s Reynard the Fox

14 July 2024 – 29 September 2024

[Jeff Bernstein]

End of μεταμορφώσεις, Book II.

 

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ How the Church of Saint Michel came to the hill

 

Now turn we to kynge Arthur at Flanders, where a farmer of the country came & told him how there was in the country of Constantyn beside Bretayne a great gyaunt, which had murdered & devoured much people of the country. He had been sustained seven years with the children of the familys of that land, & now all the children have been slayne & destroyed, & of late he hath taken the duchesse of Bretayne as she rode by with her men, & hath ledde her to his lodgynge high on a mountain, for to rauysshe & lye by her to her life’s end ¶ “Many people followed after her, more than five hundred, but not all of them together rescued her, but they left her shrykyng & cryenge lamentably. I suppose he hath slayn her in fulfyllynge his fowle lust of lechery. She was the wife of thy cousin sir Howel. Now as thou art a ryghtful kynge & noble conqueror, have pity on this lady & revenge us” ¶ “Fellow,” said kynge Arthur, “canst thou bring me to this gyaunt?” ¶ “Yes, sire,” said the good man. “Look yonder. Seest thou the rising smoke of two great fyres? There shalt thou find him; & more treasure than I suppose is in all of France” ¶ When the kynge had understanding of this piteous case he returned into his tent. He called to him sir Kaye & sir Bedevere & commanded them to ready horse & harness for himself & themselves. After evensong the three of them would ride on pylgrimage unto Saint Michel’s Mount ¶ Anon he made himself ready & armed him at all points, & took his horse & his shield; & they three departed & rode forth as fast as ever they might tell ¶ They came to the foreland of that mountain & there they alyghted. The kynge commanded them to wait, for he would go up the mountain himself. So he ascended until he came to a great fyre. There he found a widow wryngynge her hands & making great sorrow, sitting by a fresshe grave ¶ Kynge Arthur greeted her & asked of her wherefore she made such lamentation. She answered him & said, “Sir knyghte, speak softly! Yonder is a devill. If he hear thee speak he will come & destroy thee.” She never saw a knyghte of such great estate, nor so well-farynge a man, nor anyone so well-apparailled unto all ryghtes. He looked to be the noblest knyghte living, yet she said, “I think ye unhappy to be at this mountain, for such as fifty as you would not be able to bring him to ground. Behold!” said she. “Here lyeth a duchesse dead, the which was the fairest of all the world, wife to Sir Howel, Duke of Bretayne. That devill murdered her in forcynge her, & slytted her up vnto the nauyl when he took her” ¶ “Dame,” said the kynge, “I come with entreaty on behalf of the people.” “Fie on such treaties!” said she. “He setteth not by the kynge ne by no man else. But if ye have brought Arthur’s wife quene Gweneuer he shall be gladder than thou haddest given to him half of France” ¶ “I shall encounter him,” said the kynge, “and see what he can do, & the best shall have the victory.”  ¶ “Beware!” said the Dame. “Approach him not too nigh, for he hath vaynquysshed fifteen kynges. He hath made for himself a great jewelled coat embroidered with their beards.” “Well,” said Arthur, “I will accomplysshe my message, for all your fearful words.” & she said after him, “To tempt God is no wysdome” ¶ He went to the crest of the hille, & saw where the gyaunt sat at supper, sitting all naked, & gnawynge on the limb of a man; & behind him human parts were baking by a fyre, & three fair damoysels were turning three spits whereon were broached twelve children lately born, plump & precious like birdes ¶ When kynge Arthur beheld that pyteous sight he had great compassion for them so that his heart bled for sorrow ¶ The kynge called to the gyaunt & said, “God give thee short life & shameful death & the devill have thy soul! Why hast thou murdered these innocent children? Why murder the duchesse? Therefore this day thou shall die of my hand” ¶ Thenne the glutton started up, & took up a great clubbe & said, “Little man, I shall smote your head asunder!” & came nere & nere & swung at the kynge, who ducked & the clubbe brushed past; & Arthur carved him in his belly, so that his guttes & his entraylles fell to the ground, which came all bespurpled with blood; & he cutte off his genytours ¶ The gyaunt, screaming & howling, caught the kynge in his arms & they came together with a great dasshe, & Arthur thought the monster might crussh his ribbes ¶ Meanwhile the three maidens knelt down & called to Cryst for help & comfort of Arthur ¶ Thenne did Arthur welter & wring, so that he was then under & another time above, & so weltryng & walowynge they rolled downe the hylle tyl they came to the playne by the side of the sea; & ever as they scarmusshed together Arthur smote him with his dagger ¶ It fortuned they came to the place where the two faithful knyghtes were keeping Arthur’s horse. When they saw the kynge fast in the gyaunt’s arms they came & loosed him; & the gyaunt lay overthwart & still on the cold earth; & the kynge commanded sir Kaye to smite off the gyaunt’s head ¶ “This were well-done,” said the two knyghtes. ¶ Later, the head was sette upon a truncheon of a speare & borne to Sir Howel; after, it was put atop a tower that all the people may see & behold it ¶ “Go now ye two,” said Arthur, “up the mountain, & fetche me my shield & my sword; also the clubbe of iron; & take the treasure” ¶ So the knyghtes went, & some of the treasure they took; & returned again to the kynge ¶ Anon this was known throughout all the country, & the people came & thanked the kynge; & he said to them, “Give thanks to God; & distribute the goods among you”; for all the days of his life he made all good men ryche. ¶ Thenne kynge Arthur commanded his cousin sir Howel that he should ordaine for a church to be built on that hille in the worship of saint Michel ¶ On the morne after his great battle the kynge removed & came into Champayne, & there in a valley they pitched their tents ¶ Thus the good kynge finished his adventure with merveyllous honour & worship; & there we leave our heroes.

 

[Jeff Bernstein]

First appearance in English print?

"Do your worst, Mr. Hughes."

Sir Thomas Malory, 7.2

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ How sir Launcelot got stuck naked in a tree

 

And soo sir Launcelot rode over marshes & valleys through many strange countrys tyl by fortune he came to a fair castle. As he passed by the walls he was ware of a Hawke come fleynge ouer his head toward a hyghe elme. Long lunes hung loosely about her feet. She flewe vnto the elme and took her perche ¶ But whenne she would have taken her flyghte again, she hung helpless by her legges, for the lunes were wrapped in the branches ¶ Sir Launcelot beheld the Hawke & saw how she hung & was sorry for her ¶ Meane whyle a lady came out of the castle & shee cryed on hyghe, “O Launcelot, Launcelot, good courteous knyghte, helpe me to get my hawke! My lord will destroye me, for I kepte the hawke & she slypped from me, & when my lord my husband knows this he will slee me!” “What is your lord’s name?” said sir Launcelot. “Sir,” she said, “his name is sir Phelot. He is a knyghte that follows vnto the kynge of Northgalys.” “Well, faire lady, now that ye knowe my name & requyre me of knyghthode to helpe you, I will doo what I may to get your hawke. Yet Godde knoweth I am a poor climber, & the tree is hyghe, with few branches to help me up” ¶ But his wily fyghtying taughte sir Launcelot to be wyse; soo surely he alyght & tethered his horse to the same tree; & he asked the lady to unarme him. “Thou art a well-ruled knyght,” she said with glad countenance. When he was vnarmed he put off all his clothes vnto his sherte & brieches. Thenne with myghte & hardyness he climbed vp to the Hawke ¶ He broke off a branch & tied the lunes to it; thenne he dropped the hawke & anon the lady got the hawke into her hand ¶ Thenne came sir Phelot out of the busshes all armed. With naked sword in hand he said, “Knyghte Launcelot, I’ve found you nicely” & the vylayn stode nere & nere to slee him ¶ “Ah, lady,” said sir Launcelot, “why have ye betrayed me? I have not deserved that ye should shewe me this straungenes.” “She hath done,” said sir Phelot, “only as I commanded her. Launcelot, thy houre is come that thou must die.” “That were shame vnto thee,” said sir Launcelot. “Thou, an armed knyghte, to slee a naked man by treason!” “Thou gettest none other grace,” said sir Phelot; “Help thyself as thou canst” ¶ “Since thou will doo none other,” said sir Launcelot, “hang my sworde vpon a branch that I may get it, & thenne doo thy best to slee me as thou canst.” “Nay, nay,” said sir Phelot, “for I knowe better than thou know. Now talk no more with me” ¶ “Alas,” thought sir Launcelot, “I am lyke to perysshe. Ah, that ever a knyghte should die weaponless!” And he almost wept for pity ¶ He looked above him & vnder hym. Over his head was a leafless branch. He broke it off & held it in his handes. Thenne he considered how his horse stoode. Thenne he began to come lower. Thenne he hurled the branch at sir Phelot, who ducked; & sir Launcelot leapt, & took another branch in hand & dropped onto his horse ¶ Sir Phelot lasshed at him, hoping to slee him; but sir Launcelot put away the stroke with the branch, & he smote him on the side of the heade so that he felle doune in a swoune to the ground ¶ Sir Launcelot took the sword out of the hand of sir Phelot & strucke off the head from the body. Thenne cryed the lady, “Alas! Why hast thou slayne my husband?” “I do no wrong,” said sir Launcelot, “for with falsehood ye both would have slee me with treason. Now it has fallen on you” ¶ Thenne she sounded as though she would die ¶ Meane whyle sir Launcelot got all his armour & put it on him for dread of more enemies, for the knyghte’s castle was nygh; & as soone as he myght he took his horse & thanked Godde & departed vnto the courte of kynge Arthur, & there he told the Order neither the begynnynge nor the endynge of this adventure; & he hoped at no time should it be discovered and knowen openly by some other.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

How do we resist?

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ How Sir Launcelot slew a dragon to winne the hande of a Naked Woman

NOW speake we of sir Launcelot du lake & of sir Galahad, sir Launcelot’s son, as the book of Frensshe rehearseth ¶ Afore the time that sir Galahad was gotten or borned, there came in a Hermit vnto kynge Arthur as the knyghtes satte at the table round. Whenne the Hermit sawe the Siege Perilous, the empty chair awayting the occupation of its hero, he enquyred of the kyng why that chair was voyd. Sir Arthur answered, “Never shalle none sitte in that syege but one—unless he be destroyed in the getting.” The Hermit asked, “Who is he who shall sitte there?” “Nay,” said Arthur. “We know not who shalle sitte therein” ¶ “I know,” said the Hermit. “You know what?” asked kynge Arthur. “He who shall sitte in that chair is yet vngotten & vnborne,” said the Hermit, “& who sits there,” he said, “shall winne the Royal Grail” ¶ Alle the knyghtes sat astonyed at the mention of the Sancgreal; & kynge Arthur remembrid Merlyn speake of such a wonder at the enterement of the xij kynges ¶ The Hermit said no more but departed from the courte of the table round ¶ Thenne after this feeste sir Launcelot rode on his adventure tyl on a time he passed ouer the bridge of Corbyn, & there he sawe the fairest tower that euer he sawe. There vnder the Tower stood many people; & alle these men & wymmen cryed at once to sir Launcelot. “Welcome, knyghte,” said they alle, “for by thee shalle we be helpen oute of danger.” “What mean ye,” said sir Launcelot, “that ye crye soo vpon me?” “Ah, faire knyght,” said they, “here is within this Tower a dolorous lady that hath been there in paynes many wynters & dayes. For euer she boyleth in scaldynge water. Sir Gawaine was here,” said alle the people, “but did not helpe her & soo he lefte her in payne.” “Soo may I,” said sir Launcelot, “leaue her in payne as well as sir Gawaine did.” “Nay,” said the people, “we knowe well that it is you who shalle deliuer her.” “Well,” said Launcelot, “thenne shewe me what I shalle doo” ¶ Soo they brought sir Launcelot into the tower. “To go up into the lady’s chambre,” they told him, “ye must deliver vs from a serpent that is here in this tombe” ¶ Sir Launcelot tooke his shelde & said, “Bringe me thither, & what I may doo vnto the pleasure of God & you, I wille doo” ¶ Soo whenne sir Launcelot came thither he sawe written vpon the tombe letters of gold that said HERE ONLY SHALLE A LEOPARD OF KYNGE’S BLOOD SLEE THIS SERPENT & ENGENDRE A LION ¶ Soo sir Launcelot lyfte vp the tombe & there came out an horryble & a fyendly dragon spyttynge fyre oute of his mouthe. Thenne sir Launcelot drewe his sword & fought with the dragon longe & atte laste with great payne sir Launcelot slewe that dragon ¶ Thence sir Launcelot ascended the Tower ¶ ’Twas by enchauntement that Quene Morgan & the Quene of Northgalys hadde locked a lady up there in many paynes because she was called the fairest lady of that countrey. She has been there five yeares, & neuer yet was she delyuerd oute of her great paynes by any knyghte of the world who had adventured the challenge of the serpent ¶ When sir Launcelot came to the chamber where the lady was, he took hold of the locked doores & heaved them off their iron bolts with his hands ¶ He wente in to the chambre that was as hot as any stewe & there he behelde the fairest lady that euer he sawe & she was naked as a needle ¶ & he tooke her by the hand ¶ Later, the people broughte her clothes, & whenne she was arrayed sir Launcelot thoughte she might be the fairest lady of all the world, if not for Quene Guinevere ¶ & alle the people gave thankynges vnto God & hym, and saluted him, and said, “What is your name? We requyre you of your knygthode telle us.” “My name,” he said, “is Launcelot du lake” ¶ Thenne this lady said to sir Launcelot, “Sire, if it please you wille ye goo with me into a chappel that we may give more loving & thankynge vnto God?” “Madame,” said sir Launcelot, “cometh with me & I wille goo with you.” ¶ So sir Launcelot and the Lady wente & gave furthur thankynges vnto God.

 

 

 

 

 

Edited October 6, 2024 by Jeff Bernstein

[Jeff Bernstein]

Ah, the stories that blossom spontaneously from nature

 

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ Sir Percival & the Woman on the Brydge

 

Soo sir Percival rode tyl it was after noon & he came vpon a brydge of stone. There he found a knyght who was bounden with a chaine faste aboute the waist vnto a pillar of stone ¶ “O goodly knighte sir Percival,” said that bounden Knyghte, “I requyre you to loosen me of my boundes.” “What knyghte are ye?” said sir Percival, “and for what cause are ye soo bound?” “Sir, I shalle telle you what knyght. I am a knygte of the table round & my name is sir Persides. By aduenture I came this waye, & to that faire castle at the foote of this brydge. Therein, o gentyl knyght, I haue had much trauail, care, & anguysshe” ¶ And soo sir Persides told his story. The night before, he was invited to sitte at a jolly feest, & a woman of great myldenesse sat aside him. She was a parfyte clene mayden in robe of scarlet, & looked the semelyest woman in alle the realm, & none so wel made ¶ “She spoke to me with alle manner of sweetnes,” said sir Persides, “and there was suche a sauour about her as if alle the spyecery of the world breathed there. But shee was a most uncourteous lady. What shee breathed vpon me madde me dronken as if with wine, & I became assotted & madde. Thenne with no delay shee ledde me to her chambre, & there she lay with me all the night vntyl well past the morn. Thenne I remembryd myself, & arose vp, & wente to the wyndowe, & as soon as I had vnshut the wyndowe the enchauntement was gone. Thenne I knewe that I had done amiss. ‘Alas,’ I said, ‘that I haue lived so long, now that I am shamed.’ Thenne the woman on the bedde awoke, & I got my sword in hand & said, ‘Thou traitresse, what arte thou that I haue layn by thee alle this nyghte? Thou shalt die here of my handes” ¶ Thenne this lady skipped out of bedde all naked & knelt afore me & wept as she should have died, & she said, ‘Fair knyghte, I dyd no foly. I would lie with you so that there should be gotten vpon me a child who would comen of kynge’s blood.’ I said to her, ‘There was neuer knyghte soo deceyued as I am this day. Now you shalle lose your head for wytchecrafte’ ¶ Thenne this lady gat her smock, & ranne oute of the chambre, & she cryed & wept as if she had been madde; & with her noyse the knyghtes came, & she told them that I tooke her by force. Her men sette vpon me afore I myghte come to my weapon, & out of their wytte with rage they tyed me upon this pillar. Good knyghte, I think I shall die unless somme man of worship break my bandes” ¶ “Be ye of good chere,” said sir Percival. “As ye are a knyghte of the round table as wel as I, I trust to Godde to break your bandes” ¶ Therewith sir Percival took up his sword ¶ But before he strucke at the chaine, the bounden Knyghte said to him, “Beware, sir. Yonder cometh men & the scarlet woman that wille haue adoo with you.” Sir Percival turned to see all these coming oute of the castle. “Let them come,” said he ¶ And they cam to him lyke madde men clene oute of their wyttes, & they sawe in Sir Percival the noblest knygthe they ever sawe ¶ Thenne he mette with these knyghtes in the middle of the brydge. They hurtled together with their sheldes & he gave them suche buffets that he smote them quyte from their horses & ouer the brydge, & down into the water, & there they drouned ¶ Thenne the woman knelt afore him & wept as she should have died, & she said, ‘Fair knyghte, I dyd no foly” ¶ Sir Percival stood over the lady. “Ah, madame,” said he, “what vse & customme is that in a lady to destroye good knyghtes unless they wylle be your lover?” ¶ Thenne the scarlet lady rose, & faced him & said, “Faire knyghte, your Order forbids you to strike down a woman with your weapons” ¶ Sir Percival threwe away from him his shield & his sword. “For truth,” he said, “you are a shameful lady. I should fordoo your euylle custommes” ¶ What sir Percival meant was, he should go into the castle & slee alle that euer he founde ¶ But in response to this the Lady spit in his face ¶ Soo, after a pause, sir Percival tossed her over the side of the brydge as hard as all that euer he myghte flynge ¶ Thenne he strucke at the chaine with suche a myght that he cutte the chayne in two, & through sir Percides’ harness, & hurte hym a little. “O Jhesu,” said sir Persides, “that was a myghty stroke as euer I felt one, for had not the chaine been there, you hadde slayn me” ¶ Thenne sir Percides mounted a horse ¶ “Now,” said sir Percival, “may godde forgyue me mine offence that I haue done here.” “It is soon forgiven,” said sir Percides ¶ Thenne they departed, & within fyue dayes journey they came to Camelot, that is called in Englissh, Wynchester, & there they made them great chere alle that nyghte.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

The Allen Press
Woodland Road
Kentfield, CA
Publication date : May 15, 1956.

from the prospectus ¶ The book was printed on an Acorn-Smith handpress which was made in Philadelphia about 1830.

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ The skyrmyssh in the woode

 

In a waste forest came a noise & sound of fyghtyng that rang throughoute the woode. These jousts were done a lytel waye afore a hermytage where a recluse dwelled, & the old woman inside shuffled through the strawe undernethe her & came to the window, & sawe, a wayes away, a knyghte full-arayed and seated on horseback, & she knewe him at once as a worthy man and noble, whoever he myghte be ¶ The knyghte drewe his sword on sir Launcelot and smote him on his sheld great strokes. The woman was ryghte gladde to see it, and said, “No man more merveillous and goodly I have never sene” ¶ He basshed and rasshed upon Sir Launcelot with suche a myghte that he felle grouelynge to the erthe ¶ Thenne the knyghte dressid him vnto sir Percival, & tooke his horse & ranne it into him, horse and man, & smote hym soo on the helmet that it cut to the coife of steel, & had not the sword swerved, sir Percival had ben slayne, & with the stroke he felle oute of his saddel ¶ Thenne the victorious knyghte loomed over them both ¶ From the darke erthe sir Percival said, “Sir knyghte, hold thy hand a whyle, for we have foughten over a symple mater & quarel overlonge, & therefore I requyre thee telle me thy name, for I was never afore this tyme matched” ¶ The knyghte staid silent but sat fayre upon his horse ¶ Thenne sir Launcelot spoke. “Sir,” he said, “we shalle let you pass. I merveylle who thou are and of what kin thou art come” ¶ Thenne sir Launcelot sawe that it was his son Galahad ¶ Sir Galahad spurred his horse & rode awaye & was quick out of syghte ¶ Whenne the old woman sawe sir Galahad ryde, she had never seen so pyerles a knyghte in all the Countrey of Englond, with sygnfycacyon of heuenly dedes in Godde’s worke; & she said,  “Godde be with the best knyghte of the world” ¶ Meane whyle vp they gat on their horses & rode fast after him ¶ Sir Launcelot rode ouerthwart & endlonge in the wylde forest, & helde no pathe but as wyld aduenture led hym; & he came to where the pathe departed two wayes in a waste land; & there stood a stony Crosse. By the Crosse was a stone of marble, but it was so darke that he myghte not wit what was carven thereon ¶ Thenne he looked by hym & sawe an old chappel. He tooke his horse by the rayne & tied him to a tree, & he did off his sheld & hung it vpon a branch; & thenne he wente to the chappel doore ¶ He saw the doore was broken, & amiss. Thenne Sir Launcelot looked, & saw a fayre altar within, rychely arrayed with cloth of clene sylke, & there stoode a fayre clene candelstyk whiche bare syxe great candels, & the candelstyk was of sylver. Whanne sir Launcelot sawe this lyght he had great will to entre in to the chappel ¶ But he coulde find no place where he myghte entre ¶ Thenne was he passynge heavy & dismayed ¶ Soo he returned to his horse & did off the saddel & brydel & let him pasture. He vnlaced his helmet, & vngyrd his sword, & laide him doune to sleep vpon his shelde afore the Crosse.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

Solo Galahad

 

[Jeff Bernstein]

Genius Move

Psychological cinematography : As Faustine swoons, the image loses focus

then, in the same shot, as she recovers her senses, the image regains sharpness.

Faustine et le Bel Été (1972), dir. Nina Companeez.

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ Merlyn & the quene of the waste landes

Merlyn made the round table to signyfyeth the roundenes of the world / for by the round table is the world sygnefyed / For all the world Crysten and Hethen repayren vnto the round table / And whan they are chosen to be of the fellowship of the roūd table / then thynke they more blessid & more in worship than if they had gotten halfe the world // ye haue sene that they haue loste their fathers & their mothers and alle their kynne and their wyues and their children for to be of this fellowship / It is wel sene by you / For synce ye departed from your mother / ye have neuer seen her, ye fond suche fellowship at the roūd table // Whan Merlyn had ordeyned the round table he sayd the truth of the Sancgreal shold be wel knowen; and men asked hym how myghte men knowe who sholde best do and achieue the Sancgreal? / he said there shold be one who shold passe his father as moche as the lyon passeth the leopard bothe of strengthe and hardynes // They that herd Merlyn saye soo / sayd thus vnto Merlyn / Since there shalle be suche a knyghte, thow sholdest ordeyne by thy craftes a chair that no man shold sytte in it / but he only who shalle passe alle other knyghtes / Thenne Merlyn ansuerd that he wold doo soo / And thenne he made the seege perillous in the whiche sir Galahad satte in at his mete on whytsonday last past // Alle this did sir Percyual heare by the woman of the forest hermytage. “Somme called me somtyme the quene of the waste landes,” sayd she with a sadde smile. // “Now madame,” sayd syr Percyual, “by waye of kyndenes, and for goddes loue, fayr aunte, can ye teche me some way where I maye fynde Galahad? for moche wold I loue the felauship of hym.” / “Fair neuewe,” sayd she, “I shalle telle ye streyght where you shall ryde & hear true tydynges of hym.” // Soo Sir Percival heard, & thenne he departed // & his aunte made great sorowe.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ Galahad kicks ass, & the dream thereafter

The story goes that after Galahad had rescued Percival from the twenty knights, he entered into a waste forest where he rode many journeys; & he found many adventures which he brought to an end, whereof this story makes no mention. ¶ He took his way to the sea, & came to a castle & saw a wondrous battle raging there. The knights without the walls had done so much that the castle was put to the worse; but there were within good knights enough yet. Galahad saw that those within were facing so great a mischief that they would all be slain who defended the entryway. So he entered the fray & at once a spear came sailing his way & he ducked & he put a spear forth & struck the first invader he aimed at, who fell to the earth & the spear broke into pieces. ¶ Then he drew his sword. ¶ Sir Galahad bashed one on the helmet that it went to the teeth, then he rode to another & hacked at him that his fighting arm flew into the field, then he went to a third & slashed him at the shoulder so that both shoulder & arm flew off; then he rode forth well-horsed & well-armed in a straight passage right to where the fighting was thickest with spears & shields & swords; & he doled out many hurts, & did mighty deeds wonderfully devised that all who saw them marvelled & believed him a right worshipful knight. ¶ And it happened that Sir Gawaine & Sir Ector de Maris were in with the invading knights. At first, when they saw the white shield with the red cross, each made great joy, & one said to the other : “Yonder is the good knight Sir Galahad. Who would be so foolish to fight him?” ¶ Galahad eventually came to Gawaine & bashed him so hard on the head that he fell to the earth; & the stroke was so great that it carved the horse’s shoulder in two. ¶ When Ector saw Gawaine fall down he drew him out of the fray, & thought it no wisdom to answer the adventure. ¶ Thus Galahad beat back all the knights outside the walls as he trampled the dead men under his horse’s feet; & they within came out & chased all those still living every which way. It was a great slaughter & the noise rang down to the sea. Then Galahad stole away that none saw where he went. ¶ “By my head,” said Gawaine to Ector, “never have I felt such a beating of man’s hand, which I would not have again for the greatest castle in the world. Truly I have just felt the sword taken from the stone.” “Sir,” said Ector, “It seems your quest is done.” ¶ Sir Gawaine was borne into the castle & laid in a rich bed, & a physician determined that he might live, & be whole again within a month. Thus Gawaine & Ector abode together, for Sir Ector would not away till Gawaine were whole. ¶ Now leave we them there, as the good knight Galahad rode long time till he came that night to the Castle of Carboneck; & found shelter in a hermitage. ¶ When all were at rest, Galahad had a dream. There came to his sight the fairest lady he ever saw. He felt great cheer & went to her, & it was his mother the lady Elaine who would speak to her son. He asked her what she would say. “Son,” said she, “I will that ye arme you & moūte vpon your hors & folowe me / For I shall shewe yow within these thre dayes the hyest aduenture that euer ony knyght sawe.” ¶ Then Galahad awoke & armed himself & took his horse & commended himself to God, & went the way he had seen in the dream.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

¶ The death of Galahad

 

The three knights brought up Percival’s sister

into the palace, and they buried her

as well as a lord’s daughter ought to be.

Then the king of the city asked of them

who they were, and what it was they had set

on the table of silver. And they told him

the truth of the Grail, and of the power

of God. The king who heard was a tyrant

and heathen, and he put them in prison,

in a deep hole.

 

Inside that place our one Lord sent to them

the Holy Grail, whose grace fulfilled them

all the while they languished in prison.

 

Then it happened at year’s end that this king

lay sick, and he fearéd that he should die.

He sent for the three knights, sir Percival

and sir Galahad and sir Bors, who came

before him; and he begged of them mercy

for what he had done; and they forgave him.

 

When he died all the city was dismayed;

who would be their king? A voice among them

bade them choose the youngest of the three knights

to rule them; for they were strong and holy.

So the people chose sir Galahad as king;

better that, they told him, than to be killed.

 

And so he came up out into the light

to see the city and its people, and bid

them make a chest of gold and precious stones

wherein to lay down the Holy Vessel,

and set it on the table of silver;

and every day early the three fellows

would come before it, and make their prayers.

 

Thus, one morning at year’s end, Galahad

arose early and came to the palace;

and there he saw a man kneeling before

the Holy Grail. The dawn’s light lit up

this man as if in a great fellowship

of angels; and he called to Galahad,

and he said to him, “Come forth, o servant

of Jesu Christ”; and Galahad stepped forth,

and heard of the voice the following words :

“Thou shalt see what thou hast much desired

to see.” Galahad began to tremble

when he saw who stood before him; it was

as if he had been Jesu Christ himself.

He trembled as his frail flesh took in

the spiritual things; then held up his hands

to Heaven and said, “Lord God, I thank thee,

for I see you have been my desire

all along.” And he was ready to rise,

if it might please thee, Lord. The good man took

his hands, and Galahad gave them gladly.

 

And Bors felt a kiss press upon his head,

and heard the words, “Fair lord, remember me

to my father, and bid him to take care

in this unstable world.” Before the table,

then, he made his prayers, and suddenly

his soul departed; and upon the table

the Holy Grail was gone, taken up

to Heaven; and never again was there

any one to say they had seen the Grail.

[Jeff Bernstein]