Syr Degore

LOrdynges and ye wyll holde you styll A gentyll tale tell you I wyll Of knyghtes of this countree That hath trauayled beyonde the see To seke auentures bothe nyght & daye And how they myght theyr strengh assay As dyde a knyght his name was syr Degore One of the best that was founde hym before Somtyme in Englonde there was a kynge A noble man of maners in all thynge Stoute in armes and vnder shylde Full moche doubted in batayll and felde , There was no man than veramente That with hym Iusted in turmente That out of his styrope myght brynge his fote He was so stronge without doubte The kynge had no chyldern but one A doughter as whyte as whalles bone That mayden he loued as his lyfe Her moder was deed the quene his wyfe In trauayll of chylde she dyed alas But whan that mayden of aege was Kynkes sones her woed then Emperours Dukes and other men To haue that mayden in maryage For loue of her grete herytage But than the kynge dyde them answere That no man sholde wedde her But yf that he myght with stoute Iustynge The kynge out of his sadyll brynge And downe hym lose his styropes two Many one assayed and myght nought do Euery yere of ryght it wolde A grete feest wole he holde Vpon his quenes murnynge daye That was buryed in an abbaye So on a daye the kynge wolde ryde To an abbaye there besyde To do dyryges and masses bothe The poore to fede and the naked to clothe His owne doughter with hym rode And in the forest styll she abode She called her chamberlayne her to And other maydens she dyde also And sayd adowne she muste alyght Better her clothes to amende and ryght Adowne they ben alyght all thre Her damoysell and so dyde she A full longe stounde there she abode Tyll all the meyne frome her rode They gate vp and after they wolde But they coude not they ryght waye holde The wodde was roughe and thycke ywysse And they toke theyr waye all amysse They rode southe they rode west In to the thycke of that forest And in to a londe they came at the last Than weryed they wonder faste Than wyst the well amysse they had gone And downe the lyght euerychone And they called all in fere But there myght no man them here The weder was hote before the none They wyst neuer what was best to done But layde them downe vpon the grene Some fel on slepe as I wene Thus they fell on slepe euerychone Saue the kynges doughter alone She went aboute and gadred floures And to here the songe of small foules So longe she dyde forth pas That she wyst neuer where she was the waye to her damoyselles she wolde haue nome But she wyst neuer how to come Than gan she crye wonder sore She wepte and wronge her handes thore And sayd alas that I was borne For well I wote I am forlorne For wylde bestes wyll me rynde Or ony man may me fynde And then she sawe a Ioyfull syght To her came prekynge a fayre knyght Full well he semed a gentyll man And ryche clothes hym vpon Well farynge both of fote and honde There was non suche in that londe So stout a man than was he He sayd madame god you se Be ye adrade of me ryght nought I haue none armes with me brought I haue the loued this many a yere And now I haue founde the here Thou shalte be my lēmanne or I go Wheder it tourne to wele or wo No more to done then coude she But wepte and cryed and wolde haue fle Anone began he her to be holde And dyde with her what he wolde And berafte her her maydenhode And than before the lady he stode He sayd madame gentyll and fre With chylde I wote well that ye be Well I wote it shall be a knaue Therfore my swerde he shall haue My good swerde of ameaunt For therwith I slewe a gyaunt I brake the poynt in his hede And in the felde I it leued Dame take it vp lo it is here For thou spekest not with me this many a yere And yet parauenture the tyme may come That I maye speke with my sone And by this sworde I may hym ken He kyssed his loue and wente then The knyght passed as he come All wepynge the lady that swerde vp nome She wente awaye sore wepynge And founde her maydens slepynge She hydde the swerde so as she myght And called them vp anone ryght And toke theyr horses euerychone And began to ryde soone anone And than ther came at the last Many a knyght prekynge fast Fro the kynge than were they sent To were wheder they wente They brought them in to the hye waye And rode in fere to that abbaye There was done seruyce and all thynge With many a masse and ryche offerynge And whan that seruyce was all done And gan to passe the hye none The kynge vnto his palays gan ryde And moche people by his syde Whan euery man was gladde and blythe The lady soned many a sythe Her baly waxed more and more She wepte and wronge her handes sore So vpon a daye she gan sore wepe A mayden of hers toke good kepe And sayd madame for charyte Why ye do wepe ye wyll tell me Mayden and I tell the before And thou me wrey I were but lore For I haue ben euer meke and mylde And truly nowe I am with chylde And yf ony man it vnder yede Euery man wolde tell in euery stede That my fader on me it wan For I loued neuer other man And yf my fader it may wete Suche sorowe his herte may gete That he shall neuer mery man be For all his Ioye is layde on me And tolde the damoysell all in fere How the chylde was begoten on here Now gentyll lady greue you nought For styll it shall be forth brought Shall no man it wytte certaynly Truely madame but you and I Tyme was come she was vnbounde And delyuered both hole and sounde A man chylde there was bore Gladde was the lady therfore The mayden serued her at her wyll And layde the chylde in a cradyll She wrapped hym in clothes anone And was all redy for to haue gone Yet was the chylde vnto the moder holde She gaue it .xx. pounde of golde And .x. pounde of syluer also Vnder his heed she gan it doo Moche it is that a chylde behoues She put with hym a payre of gloues Herlemman gaue her them in a stonde They wolde elles on no womans honde On chyldes nother woman they nolde But on his moders handes they wolde And bad the chylde no wyfe wedde in londe But the gloues wolde on her honde For they myght serue no where Saue the moder that dyde hym bere A letter with the chylde put she With the gloues also perde She knyt the letter with a threde A boute his necke a full good spede Than was it in the the letter wrytte Who so it founde shulde it wytte For crystes loue yf ony good man This wofull chylde fynde can Do hym be crystened of preestes honde And to helpe hym to lyue in londe With this syluer that is here Tyll he may armes bere And helpe hym with his owne good For he is come of gentyll blode And whan she had thus done The mayden toke her leue full sone With the chylde in the cradyll and all thynge She stale awaye in the euenynge And went her waye she wyste not whyder Thrughe thycke and thynne in the breer She wente all the wynter nyght By shynynge of the mone lyght Then was she redely ware anone Of an hermytage made of stone An holy man had there his dwellynge And theder she wente without lesynge And sette the cradyll at the dore For she durste dwell no lenger thore But turned agayne a none ryght And came agayne the same nyght The hermyte rose on the morowe tho And his knaue also Lorde he sayd I crye the mercy For nowe I here a yonge chylde crye This holy man his dore vndyde And founde the cradell in the stede He lyfte vp the shete anone And loked vpon the lytell grome Than helde he vp his ryght honde And thanked Ihesu cryst of his sonde He bare the chylde in to the chapell For Ioye of hym he ronge the bell And layde vp the gloues and the tresoure And crystened the chylde with grete honoure And in the worshyp of the trynyte He called the chyldes name Degore For Degore to vnderstonde it is But thynge that almoost is lost ywys As thynge that is almoost a goo Therfore he called that chylde soo The hermyte was an holy man of lyfe He had a syster that was a wyfe He sente the chylde to her full rathe With moche money by his knaue And badde she sholde take good hede The chylde to nourysshe and fede And this lytell chylde Degore Vnto that cyte was I bore The good man and his wyfe in fere The chylde they kepte as it theyr owne were Tyll it was .x. wynter olde He waxed a fayre chylde and a bolde Well taught fayre and kynde There was none suche in all that ende What tyme .x. yere was come and spente Vnto the hermyte they hym sente The hermyte longed hym for to se Thenne was he a fayre chylde and fre He taught the chylde of clarkes lore Other .x. wynter withouten more And whan he was of .xx. yere He was a man of grete powere There was no younge man in that londe That myght stande a brayde of his honde And whan the hermyte that dyde see That he a man so stronge wolde be A stalworthe man in ony werke And of his tyme a well good clerke He toke his florens and his gloues That he had kepte sor hym in his house But his .x. pounde that was sterlynge was spente aboute the chyldes kepynge The hermyte toke hym his lettre to rede He loked therin that same stede Syr he sayd for saynt charyte Was this lettre made by me Ye sone by hym that me deme shall Thus I founde the and tolde hym all He sette hym downe on knees full blythe And thanked the hermyte many sythe And sayd he wolde not rest in londe Tyll the tyme he had his fader fonde He gaue the hermyte halfe his golde And the remenaunt vp he folde He toke his leue and fayne wolde go The hermyte sayd he sholde not so To seke thy kynne thou mayst not endure Without good horse and good armure .

¶ How syr Degore fought with a dragon in a forest and slewe hym .

SIr hermyte he sayd in dede I wyll haue no other wede But a batte in mi honde Myn enemyes therwith to withstande A full good sapelynge of an oke On whome he sette therwith a stroke Where he neuer so tall a man Nor yet so good armure hym vpon He wolde hym fell to the grounde With that same batte in that stounde The chylde kyssed the hermyte tho And toke his leue for to goo Degore wente forthe on his waye Thrughe a forest halfe a daye He harde no man nor sawe none Tyll it was past the hye none Thenne harde he grete strokes fall That made grete noyse withall Full soone he thought that thynge to se To wyte what the strokes myght be There was an erle bothe stoute and gay He was come theder that same day For to hunte for a dere or a doo But his houndes were gone hym fro Thenne was there a dragon grete and grymme Full of fyre and also venimme with a wyde throte and tuskes grete Vpon that knyght fast gan he bete And as a lyon thenne was his fete His tayle was longe and full vnmete Bytwene his hede and his tayle Was .xxii. fote withouten fayle His body was lyke a wyne tonne He shone full bryght agaynst the sonne His eyen were bryght as ony glasse His scales were harde as ony brasse And therto he was necked lyke a horse He bare his hede vp with grete force The breth of his mouth that dyde out blowe As it had bene a fyre on lowe He was to loke on as I you tell As it had ben a fende of hell Many a man he had shente And many a horse he had rente And to that erle harde batayll began But he defended hym lyke a man And boldely smote hym with his swerde But of all his strokes he was not aferde His skynne was harde as ony stone Wherfore he myght hym no harme done And whan the erle syr Degore se Helpe syr he sayd for saynt charyte And thenne answerde syr Degore Full gladly syr and god before whan the dragon of Degore had a syght He left the erle and came to hym ryght And the chylde that was so stronge Toke his staffe that was longe And smote the dragon so on the crowne That in that wodde he fell downe And then that dragon anone ryght Smote the chylde with suche myght With his tayle vpon the ryght syde That downe he fell in that tyde And he sterte vp anone full ryght And defended hym with moche myght With that staffe that was so longe He brake of hym bothe fote and bone That it was wonder for to se He was so toughe he myght not deye Tyll Degore one stroke at hym flonge With his staffe that was so stronge He smote hym on the crowne on hye That he made his braynes out flye And thenne the erle was glade and blythe And thanked Degore many a sythe And prayed hym he wolde with hym ryde Vnto his palays there be syde And there he made hym a knyght And made hym good chere that nyght Rentes tresoure and half his londe He wolde haue sezyd in to his honde Syr Degore thanked hym truely And prayed hym of his curtaysye To lette his ladyes before hym come Wyues medens more and some And also your doughter eke And yf my gloues ben for them mete Or wyll vpon ony of there hondes Than wolde I fayne take my londes And yf my gloues wyll not soo Thenne wyll I take my leue and goo All the women were out brought That there aboute myght be sought All the assayed the gloues than But they where mete for no woman Syr Degore toke vp his gloues anone And also toke leue for to gone The Erle was a lorde of gentyll blode He gaue syr Degore a stede ryght good And therto he gaue hym good armure The whiche was both fayre and sure And also a page his man to be And an hakneye to ryde on truely Syr Degore was glade and blythe And thanked the erle many a sythe He rode forthe vpon his waye Many a myle vpon somers daye Vpon a daye moche people he mette He houed styll and fayre them grette And asked a squyre what tydynge And frome whens came all that folke rydynge The squyre sayd syr veramente They come frome the parlamente Fro a counseyll the kynge dyde make The whiche is for his doughters sake But whan the parlament was moost plenere The kynge lete crye bothe fer and nere Yf ony man were soo bolde That with the kynge Iust wolde He sholde haue his doughter in maryage And all his londe and herytage It is a londe bothe good and fayre And the kynge therto had none ayre But sertes there dare no man graunt therto Many one sayd they myght not doo For euery man that rydeth to hym He beteth them with strokes grym Some he breketh the necke anone Of some he cracketh bothe backe and bone Some thrughe the body he glytte And some to deth he smytte And to hym may no man do nothynge Suche a grace euer had our kynge Syr Degore stode in a stody than And thought he was a doughty man And I am in my yonge blode And I haue horse and armure good And as I trowe a full good stede I wyll assaye yf that I may spede And yf I may bere the kynge downe I may be a man of grete renowne And yf that he me fell can There knoweth no body what I am Dethe or lyfe what so me be tyde I wyll ones ayenst hym ryde Thus in the cyte his ynne he takes And rested hym and mery makes So vpon a day the kynge he mette He kneled downe and fayre hym grette He sayde syr kynge of moche myght My lorde hath sent me to you ryght To warne you how it shall be My lorde wyll come and fyght with the To Iust with the my lorde hathe nome The kynge sayd he shall be welcome Be he knyghte or barowne Erle Duke or chorle in towne There is no man I wyll forsake Who all may wynne all may take

¶ How syr Degore Iusted with the kynge of Englonde and smote hym downe . SO on the morowe the day was sette The kynge auysed moche the bette But thenne there was no lyuynge man That Degore trusted moche vpon But to chirche that tyme went he To here a masse of the trynyte

To the fader he offered a floryne And to the sone another fyne The thyrde to the holy goost he offered The preest in his masse for hym prayed And whan the masse was done Vnto his ynne he wente anone He dyde arme hym well in dede In ryche armure good at nede His good stede he began to stryde And toke his spere and forthe dyde ryde His knaue toke an other spere And after his mayster gan it bere Thus in the felde syr degore abode than They kynge came with many a man Many came theder redely To se the iustynge truely All that in the felde were They sayd and dyde swere That they neuer or that tyme se So fayre a man with theyr eye As was that yonge knyght syr Degore But non wyst what man was he They rode to gyder at the laste On theyr good stedes full faste The kynge had the gretter shafte And more he coude of that crafte To dasshe hym downe thenne had he mente And in his shylde sette shuche a dente That his good spere all to braste But Degore was stronge and sat fast Than sayd the kynge alas alas For me befell neuer suche a case There was neuer man that I myght hit That euer myght my stroke sytte This is a man all for the nones For he is a man of grete bones Thenne toke the kynge a gretter tre And square also mote I the And yf his necke wyll not a two His backe shall or that I goo The kynge rode to hym with grete randowne And thought to haue dasshed the chylde downe . He smote syr Degore soone anone Ryght before the brst bone That his horse was rered on hye And syr Degore was fallen nye Syr Degore thus his cours out yode He was sore angry in his mode Alas he sayd I haue myssed yet And he hath me twyes hit And neuer ones with hym I met By god I shall me auyse bet They rode togyder with grete myght In theyr sheldes theyr speres pyght That theyr good speres all to broke Vnto theyr handes with the stroke And than the kynge began to speke Gyue me a spere that wyll not breke For he shall anone be smyten downe Thoughe he be as stronge as was sampsowne And yf he be the deuyll of hell I shall hym soone downe fell The kynge toke a spere styfe and stronke And Degore toke a nother good and longe And stouly to the kynge he smytte The kynge hym fayled and Degore hym it And syr Degore soo hym bete That he made the kynges horse torne vp his fete . Boldely he rode vp than And semed a full goodly man The kynge was out of his sadyll caste Wherof his doughter was sore a gaste Thenne was there moche noyse and crye The kynge was sore asshamed for thy We le I wote his doughter was sory Fer thenne she wyste redely That she shulde maryed be To a man of a straunge countree And lede her lyfe with suche one That she wyste neuer fro whens he come The kynge sayd to syr Degore Come heder fayre sone me before And thou were as gentyll a man As thou semest to loke vpan And thou coude wyt and reason doo As thou arte doughty man to I wolde thynke my londe well beset And yf it were fyue tymes the bet For worde spoken I must nedes holde Before my barons that be so bolde I take the my doughter by the honde And sesse the in all my londe To be myn heyre after me In Ioye and blysse for to be

¶ How syr Degore wedded his moder the kynges doughter of Englonde / and howe shewe knewe that he whas her sone by the gloues .

GRete ordynaunce was there wrought To the chyrche dore they were brought And were there wedded veramente Vnto the holy sacramente Loke what foly happened there That he sholde wedde his owne modere The whiche had borne hym one her syde And yet he knewe nothynge that tyde He knewe nothynge of her kenne Nor she knewe nothynge of hym And bothe togyder ordeyned to bedde Yet parauenture they may be sybble Thus dyde syr Degore the bolde He wedded his moder to haue and to holde God suffred moche thynge there But yet he lete them not synne in fere It passed on the hye tyme of none And the daye was nere hande done To bed was brought bothe he and she With grete myrthe and solempnyte Syr Degore stode and be helde than And thought of the hermyte holy man That he sholde neuer for thy Wedde no Wedowe nor lady But yf she myght the gloues two Lyhtly vpon her handes doo Alas than sayd syr Degore The tyme that euer I was bore And sayd anone with heuy chere Me had leuer than all this kyngdome here That is now sessyed in to my honde That I were fayre out of this londe The kynge these wordes harde tho And sayd dere sone why sayst thou so Is there ought ayenste thy wyll Other done or sayd that dothe the yll Or ony thynge that is mysdone Tell me and it shall be amended sone Naye lorde he sayd thenne But for all the maryage that done hath ben I wyll not with no woman mell Wyfe wedowe nor damoysell But yf she myght these gloues doo Lyghtly vpon her handes two And whan the lady gan this here A none she changed all her chere And all to gyder turned her mode Her visage waxed rede as ony blode She knewe that the gloues longed to her And sayd gyue me the gloues fayre syr She toke the gloues in that that stede And lyghtly vpon her handes them dyde She fell downe and began to crye And sayd lorde god I aske mercy I am thy moder that the dyde bere And thou arte my owne sone dere Syr Degore full sone tho Toke her vp in his arumes two Than were they glade and blythe They kyssed to gyder many a sythe The kynge of them had grete meruayll Of the noyse they made withouten fayll And was a basshed of theyr wepynge And sayd doughter what is this thynge Fader she sayd wyll ye it here Ye wene that I a mayden were Nay truely fader I am none For it is .xx. wynter a gone This is my sone god it wote And by these gloues I it wotte She tolde hym all togyder there How he was begoten on here Than bespake syr Degore Swete moder than sayd he Where is my fader wonnynge And whan herde ye of hym ony tythynge Sone she sayd by heuen kynge I can tell of hym no tydynge But whan thy fader frome me wente A poyntles swerde he me lente And charged me to kepe it than Tyll the tyme thou were a man She fette the swerde full swythe And syr Degore it out twythe Longe and brode it was perde There was none suche in that countre Truely sayd syr Degore than Who so it owed he was a man Now god of heuen he me kepe Nyght nor daye I wyll not slepe Tyll the tyme I may my fader se In crystendome yf that he be He made hym mery that ylke nyght On the moro whan it was day lyght He wente to the chyrche to here masse And made hym redy for to passe Than sayd the kynge my nexte kynne I wyll gyue the knyghtes with the to wynne Syr he sayd gramercy than With shall go no other man But my knaue that may take hed To myn armure and to my stede He lepte on horse the sothe to saye And rode forth on his Iournaye Many a myle and many awaye He rode forth on his palfraye And euer more he rode west Tyll tyme he came to a forest Wylde bestes there wente hym by And foules songe there full merely So longe he rode tyll it drewe to nyght The sone wente doune and fayled lyght Vnto some towne fayne wolde he ryde But there was none on neyther syde Soone after he founde a castell clere A lady truely wonned there A fayre castell of lyme and stone But other towne there was none Degore sayd to his knaue that tyde Wyll we to that castell ryde And all nyght abyde wyll we And aske lodgynge for charyte The drabryge was drawen tho And the yate stode open also Vnto the castell they gan them spede And fyrst he stabled vp his stede And than he set vp his hakeney I noughe they founde of corne and hey He wente a boute and gan to call Bothe in the courte and eke in hall Nether for loue nor yet for awe Lyuynge man none there they sawe And in the myddes of the hall floure There was a grete fyre in that stoure Than sayd his man leue syre I haue wonder who made this fyre Yf he wyll come agaye this nyght I wyll hym abyde as I am knyght He set hym done vpon the dease And made hym well at ease Than was he ware soone of one That at the dore he gan gone And thre maydens fayre and fre That where trussed vp to the knee Twayne of them bowes dyde bere And two of them charged were With venyson that was full good Thenne syr Degore vp stode And blessed them a none ryght But they spake not to the knyght But whente in to the cambre a none And shytte the dore full sone And a none after therwithall There came a dwarfe in to the hall Foure fote was the length of hym His vysage was bothe grete and grym And the hear that on his heed was It was yelo as ony waye But full stouly than loked he He ware a cyrcote that was grene With blaunchmer it was furred I wene He was well clade and well dyght His shone was corked as a knyght He was large bothe of fote and hande As ony man was in that lande Syr Degore loked on hym tho And to hym reuerence dyde doo And he to hym wolde speke no worde But made hym besy to lye the borde He layde the clothe and sette forth brede And also wyne bothe whyte and rede Torches in the hall he dydde lyght All thynge redy to souper he dyght And sone after with grete honoure There came a lady out of her boure And with her came maydens fyftene Some in rede and some in grene Syr Degore folowed a none ryght And nought she spake vnto that knyght But yede and wasshed euerychone And to souper gan they gone The lady was fayre and bryght In the myddes of the desse she set downe ryght On euery syde sat maydens fyne Fayre and goodly as ony was a lyue By god than sayd syr Degore I haue you blessed and ye not me But ye seme dombe by saynt Iohan I shall make you speke and I can Syr Degore coude of curteysy He yede and sat before the lady And whan he had taken that sete He toke a knyfe and cutte his mete Full lytell mete at souper ete he He dyde so be holde that mayden fre Hym thought she was the fayrest lady That euer afore he dyde se All his herte thought and myght Was on that lady that was to bryght And whan they had souped all The dwerfe brought water in to the hall Thenne gan they wasshe euerychone And than to chambre gan they gone Truely quod Degore and after I wyll To loke on that lady all my fyll Who that me warneth he shall abye Or to do hym make a sory crye Vpon the stayre the waye he nome And soone in to the chambre he come They lady that was so fayre and bryght Vpno her bedde she sat downe ryght She harped notes swete and fyne Her maydens fylled a pyece of wyne And syr Degore sat hym downe For to here the harpes sowne That thorowe the notes of the harpe shyll He layde hym downe and slepte his fyll This fayre lady that ylke nyght She bad go couer that gentyll knyght And ryche clothes aboute hym caste And the lady wente to a nother bed at the laste So on the morowe whan it was daye The lady rose the sothe to saye And in to the chambre her waye gan take She sayd syr knyght a ryse and wake They lady sayd all in game Ye be well worthy to haue blame For as a beest all nyght thou dyde slepe And of my maydens tokest no kepe And than answered the knyght so fre Mercy madame and forgyue it me The notes of thyne harpe it made Or elles the good wyne that I hade But tell me now my lady hende Or I out of this chambre wende who hathe this castell in his honde And who is lorde of this londe wheder that ye be mayden or wyfe And in what maner ye lede your lyfe And why ye haue so many women Alone withouten ony men Syr fayne I wolde the tell And thou coude it amende well My fader was a bolde barowne And holden a lorde of toure and towne He had neuer chylde but me I am ayre in this countre

¶ How syr Degore foughte for a lady with a gyaunt and slewe hym .

THere hathe me wowed many a knyght And many a squyre well dyght But than theyr wonned here besyde A stoute gyaunt full of pryde He hathe me desyred longe and yore And hym to loue may I neuer more He is a boute with his mestrye To do me shame and velonye And he hathe slayne my men ychone Saue my sory dwerfe alone Ryght as they stode she fell to grounde And soned there in that stounde All her damoyselles to her come To comforte her and her vp nome The lady loked on syr Degore Lefe dame thenne sayd he Be not adrad whyles I am here I wyll the helpe to my powere Syr she sayd thenne all my londe I will it cesse in to thy honde And all my good I wyll the gyue And all my body whyle I lyue For to be at all your wyll Erly and late loude and styll And thy lemman for to be To wreke me nowe on myn eneme That was Degore fayne to fyght For to defende that ladyes ryght And to sle that other knyght And wynne that lady that was so bryght And as they stode bothe in fere Her maydens came rydynge with heuy chere She bad drawe the bryge hastely For here cometh youre enemy Or elles he wyll sle vs ychone Syr Degore sterte vp anone Oute at a wyndowe he hym se He was sone armed on horse hye So stoute a man as he was one In armes sawe she neuer none Syr Degore armed hym by lyue And oure of the castell he gan dryue And rode euen the gyaunt agayne They smote togyder with moche mayne That theyr good speres all to brast Degore was stroge and sat fast But his stedes bake braste a two Thenne syr Degore fell to the grounde tho And thenne he sterte vp and loughe And his good swerde he out drughe Than sayd the gyaunt to hym anone On fote we wyll to gyder gone Thou hast sayd Degore slayne my good stede I hope to quyte the thy mede To sle thy stede nought I wyll But to fyght with the my fyll And tho they fought on fote in fere With stronge strokes on helme clere The gyaunt gaue syr Degore Houge strokes grete plente And syr Degore dyde hym also Tyll helme and basynet barste in two The gyanut was a greued sore Bycause he hadde his blode lore He stroke vpon syr Degore soo That to the grounde he made hym goo Syr Degore recouered soone a plyght And suche a stroke he gaue that knyght And on the crowne soo it sette That throwe his helme and basynet He made the swerde go thorowe his het And anone the gyaunt fell downe deed The lady sat in her castell And sawe all the holde batayll How the gyaunt was slayne That wolde her haue forlayne She was as glade of that syght As euer was bryde of the daye lyght Syr Degore came to the caestll And agaynst hym came that damoysell She thanked hym of his good dede And in her chambre she dyde hym lede She sette hym on her bed anone And vnarmed hym full sone She toke hym in her harmes two And kyssed hym . C. tymes and mo And sayd all my good I wyll the gyue And my body whyle I lyue Gramercy damoysell then sayd he Of that ye haue graunted me But I must in to ferre contree Mo auentures for to se Vnto this twelue monthes be ago And thenne I shall come you to He betoke her to the heuen kynge The lady wepte at his departynge Syr Degore rode vpon his waye Many a longe Iourney And euer more he rode west Tyll a lande he founde in a forest To hym came prekynge a knyght Well armed and on his horse dyght In armes that wolde endure With fyne golde and ryche asure Thre bore hedes were theryne They whiche were of golde fyne As soone as euer he sawe that knyght He spake to hym a none ryght And sayd velayne what doost thou here In my forest to sle my dere Syr Degore sayd with wordes meke Syr of thy dere I take no kepe For I am auenturous knyght That gothe to seke warre and fyght His fader answered and sayd saunfayll And thou be come to seke batayll Thenne make the redy in a stounde For thou haste thy felowe founde And thenne syr Degore without daungere Armed hym to fyght with his fadere

¶ How syr Degore fought with his fader & how his fader knewe hym by the broken swerde .

A Well godd helme for the nones And well sette with precyus stones It myght well be his owne saunfayll For he wanne it ones in batayll He kest his shelde aboute his swere Of ryall armes good and dere His good stede he began to stryde He toke his spere and began to ryde And his man toke an other spere And by his syde he gan it bere But loke what foly began that tyde The sone agaynst the fader gan ryde But neyther knewe other a ryght And thus began they to fyght Syr Degore had the greater shafte And wonder well he coude his crafte To dasshe hym downe than had he wente And in his shelde gaue suche a dente That his good spere all to brast But his fader was stronge and sat fast Another cours than haue they take The fader for the sones sake So harde they smote togyder in sothe That theyr horses backes broke bothe And thenne they fought on fote in fere Wirh harde strokes on helme clere And thus his fader a meruayled was Of his swerde that was poyntles And to hym sayd anone ryght Abyde a whyle thou gentyll knyght Where was thou borne and in what londe Syr he sayd in Englonde A kynges doughter is my moder But I wote not who is my fader What is thy name thenne sayd he Syr my name is Degore Syr Degore thou arte welcome For well I wote thou arte my sone By this swerde I knowe the here The poynt is in my pautenere He toke the poynt and sette it to And they accorded bothe two So longe they haue spoke togyder Bothe the sone and the fader That they be ryght well at one The fader and the sone alone Syr Degore and his fader dere In to Englonde they rode in fere They were bothe armed and well dyght As it becometh euery knyght They rode forth on theyr Iourney Many a myle of that countrey And on theyr way they rode full fast In to Englonde they came at the laste Whan they myght Englonde se They drewe theder as they wolde be Whan they wher to that palays come They wher welcome all and some And they behelde ouer all The lady them spyed ouer a wall And whan that lady sawe that syght She wente to them with all her myght And ryght well she them knewe And than she chaunged all her hewe And sayd my dere sone Degore Thou hast thy fader brought with the Truely madame than sayd he Full well I wote that it is he Now thanked be god than sayd the kynge For nowe I wote without lesynge Who is syr Degores fader in dede The lady swoned in that stede And sone after sekerly The knyght wedded that lady She and her sone was departed I twynne For he and she were to nye of kynne Forth thenne wente syr degore With the kynge and his meyne His fader and his moder dere Vnto they castell they wente in fere Where as dwelled that lady bryght That he had wonne in fyght And wedded her witth grete solempnyte Before all the lordes of that countre Thus came the knyght out of his care God gyue vs grace well to fare And that we all vpon domes day Come to the blysse that lasteth ay .

AMEN