Poets Translate Poets: A Hudson Review Anthology by Paula Deitz Read Free Book Online

wound it about his middle.
    Th
    e girdle woven of green silk well suited that splendid man,
    Against the royal red of the cloth, which looked so rich in itself.
    But he wasn’t putting this girdle on because of its costliness,
    Nor out of pride in its shiny pendants, however polished they were,
    Nor even for the glittering gold that glinted upon the fringe,
    But in order that he might save his life when he was obliged to submit,
    To face, without dispute, what he would take from the sword’s or knife’s
    Sharp stroke.

    Once the brave man was set,

    He hurried out and spoke

    His thanks to all he met,

    To all the noble folk.
    Th
    en Gringolet was made ready to ride, that was an enormous horse
    Th
    at had been stabled comfortably and in a secure fashion:
    Th
    at proud horse, due to his fi t condition, wanted to gallop now.
    Th
    e knight walked out to where he stood, and gazed on his glistening coat,
    And soberly he said to himself, swearing it on his oath,
    “Here inside this moat is a company setting their minds on honor:
    May joy come to the lord who maintains and manages them all;
    And as for the delightful lady, may she have love in her life!
    If out of charity they can receive and cherish a guest so kindly,
    And off er such hospitality, may the Good Lord reward them
    Who holds the heavens up on high—and also all of you!
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    And if I should stay alive on earth, for any length of time,
    I would quickly pay you some recompense, if I were able to.”
    Th
    en the knight stepped into the stirrup, and swung astride the horse;
    His servant off ered him his shield, which he settled on his shoulder,
    And he dug his spurs into Gringolet, kicking his gilded heels,
    And the horse started forward over the stones, no longer standing still,
    To prance.

    His man was mounted then

    Who bore his spear and lance.

    “Th
    is castle I commend

    To Christ against mischance!”
    Th
    e bridge was let down for him to pass, and the broad gates in the wall
    Were unbarred, swung open without delay, all the way back on both halves.
    Th
    e knight rapidly blessed himself and passed across the planks,
    Th
    anking the porter who kept the gates, who knelt before the prince—
    He wished the knight “Good day” and prayed that God would save Gawain—
    And he went on his way accompanied by a single guide
    To teach him the turns by which to reach at last that perilous place
    Where he was destined to receive the grievous, terrible stroke.
    Th
    ey bent and stooped beneath bare boughs along the hillside slopes;
    Th
    ey clambered along below the cliff s where the cold was clinging close.
    Th
    e heavens were holding high above, but were threatening underneath;
    Th
    e mist was mizzling on the moor and melting on the mountains;
    Each of the hilltops had a hat, a huge mantle of mist.
    Th
    e brooks were boiling and foaming, bursting over their banks,
    White water shattered against the sides, as they made their way downhill.
    Th
    e route was wild and meandering that they followed through the woods,
    Until it would soon be time, in that season, for the sun to break
    From night.

    Th
    ey were on a high hilltop;

    On all sides snow lay white;

    Th
    e guide with him called, “Stop!”

    Abruptly, to the knight.
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    “For I have brought you here, sir, at the appointed time,
    And now you are not far at all from that noteworthy place
    Th
    at you have sought and asked about so very particularly.
    But I shall tell you the truth, my lord, since now I know you well,
    And you are one man on this earth whom I regard most highly:
    If only you’d act on my advice, it would be much better for you.
    Th
    e place you are pressing forward to is held to be perilous;
    A man lives in that wasteland, the worst man