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

in the world,
    For he is strong and stern and grim and above all loves striking blows,
    And in his massiveness more of a man than any other on earth;
    His body is bigger than four of the best and biggest knights to be found
    In Arthur’s house—he is bigger even than Hector or any other—
    And he is in charge of all mischance that happens at the Green Chapel,
    For nobody passes by that place, however proud in arms,
    But he will batter him to death with a blow from his strong hand,
    For he is a man without restraint, and has no use for mercy:
    Whether it be a churl or a chaplain that’s riding by the chapel,
    Whether a monk, or a priest who says Mass, or anybody else,
    He thinks it as fi ne to murder a man as to stay alive himself.
    Th
    erefore I have to say to you, as sure as you sit in your saddle,
    If you go there, you will be killed, if that knight has his way—
    Trust me, I’m telling you the truth—even if you had twenty lives
    To spend.

    He has lived a long time in this land,

    And stirred up strife no end;

    Against his deadly hand

    Th
    ere’s no way to defend.
    “Th
    erefore, good Sir Gawain, please leave the man alone
    And ride away by some other road, for God’s sake and your own.
    Take yourself off to another land, where Christ may give you speed!
    And I shall hurry home again; and further, I promise you
    Th
    at I shall swear on oath, ‘By God and all his hallowed saints,
    So help me God and the holy relics,’ and other oaths enough—
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    Th
    at I shall loyally keep your secret, and never let drop a word
    Th
    at ever you tried to run away from any man I know of.”
    “Th
    ank you so much,” Gawain replied, though he said it with irritation.
    “I should, I suppose, wish you good luck for caring about my welfare,
    And you say you will loyally keep my secret, as I believe you would;
    But, though you kept it ever so close, if I hurried past this place,
    Fleeing away from him out of fear, in the fashion you propose,
    I would be called a cowardly knight and could not be excused.
    So I will go on to the Green Chapel, to whatever challenge I meet,
    And talk there to that knight himself, and tell him whatever I think;
    Whether it brings me well or woe, it will only be what Fate
    Decrees.

    He may be a fearsome knave

    Who could club me to my knees,

    But God shapes things to save

    His servants, should He please.”
    “By Mary!” said the other man. “Since now you have spelled it out
    Th
    at you are bringing your own destruction down upon yourself,
    And it pleases you to lose your life, I will say nothing against it.
    Here, put your helmet on your head, and take your spear in hand,
    And ride this rough path downstream by the side of that rock yonder,
    Till it brings you to the bottom of the broad and rugged valley.
    Th
    en look to the glade not far away, a little off to the left ,
    And you shall see, set in that dale, the very chapel you’re aft er,
    And on its grounds the burly brute who keeps it in his care.
    Now farewell, noble Gawain, in God’s name, fare thee well!
    For all the gold there is in the earth I would not go with you,
    Nor travel in your company through this forest one foot farther.”
    With that, in the middle of the wood, the fellow yanked his bridle,
    Kicked his horse’s fl anks with his heels as hard as he could spur,
    Galloped him off across the glade, and left the knight there, all
    Alone.
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    “By God’s own Self,” he said,

    “I will not weep or groan.

    God’s will must be obeyed,

    His wishes are my own.”
    Th
    en he struck his spurs into Gringolet, and followed the stream path down:
    He pushed his way on past the rock, at the edge of a small thicket,
    And rode along the ragged bank to the bottom of the