Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Autor: Claudio Martins | Publicado: 2012-03-01T10:40:00-04:00



Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight: A Short Introduction




During the second half of the
14th Century, there occurred a literary phenomenon called the
"Alliterative Revival." Suddenly, in the North and West of England,
there appeared poems in a style that had not appeared in English literature
(what little there was of it) since shortly after the Norman Conquest. This was
the alliterative style of Beowulf and other Anglo-Saxon poems. It was used for
a variety of purposes, though primarily in a narrative mode: there are
alliterative poems composed to celebrate victories in battle, and a large group
of romances about Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

Not a lot is
known about the circumstances in which these poems were written. What evidence
is available to scholars suggests that alliterative poems were favored by the
provincial gentry in those parts of England where the tradition had survived
(as an oral tradition) during the long period in which English was the language
only of peasants and commoners. Reflecting this background, they tend to be
celebrations of chivalry and the knightly virtues - but not all. One of the
best alliterative poems, Piers Plowman
was widely read throughout England by tradesman and educated members of the
middle class, and expressed their moral and religious concerns. 

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is considered
the definitive masterpiece of the Alliterative Revival; it both embodies its
tradition and surpasses it. It tells its story with wit and panache, using
narrative techniques not used until the rise of the novel. And it somehow
manages to affirm the positive values of chivalry, while telling a story that
subverts much of its self-important posing. Gawain's heroic strength as a
Knight of the Round Table is primarily demonstrated by his ability to chop off
the head of defenseless guest. His knightly honor is confirmed mostly by his
willingness to take a long journey to give the (miraculously surviving) guest a
chance to finish their game ... and perhaps him ... off with a return blow. He
lives up to his reputation in Arthurian romance as an inveterate lover of the
ladies by flattering a lady who practically throws herself at him without ever
letting her touch him -- and his successful defense of his chastity is made
ridiculous when the lady convinces him to wear her girdle to his engagement to
get his head chopped off, on the rather far-fetched assurance that it will
provide magical protection. And yet he comes off as an exemplary knight, the
best in Arthur's court, with real courage, honor, and moral purity.

Unfortunately,
the language of the poem is impossible for anyone but a scholar to read. Not
only is it in the Middle English of the 14th Century, which at its closest to
modern English (as in Chaucer) is readable only with some effort, but it's in
an obscure dialect of the north west Midlands of England, and uses all kinds of
words that are totally obsolete today. So it's impossible for most people to
read it in the original. Even worse, most of the translations I have seen fail
to do it justice. 

Far too many
take the "medieval chivalry" angle a bit too seriously, and make the
poem sound stilted, arcane, full of stuffy self-important chivalrous
sentiments. It's anything but: few poems are more down to earth in their
descriptions of the facts of medieval life, or so lively in their rhythms, or
combine high drama so effectively with a sly sense of humor. One of the best
translations I have seen is Burton Raffel's, but you cannot read his version
and get any real sense either of what alliterative poetry sounded like in the
14th century, or what it should sound like today.

Given these
concerns, and especially since there is not even a bad translation of Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight available on the internet, I have undertaken to provide
a translation which will be posted on this site. The first installment - Book
1, through line 490 of the original - was posted at the end of March 1999, with
more to follow as it is completed. In what follows, I try to give readers a
sense of my philosophy of translations, so they will know where and how I have
tried to remain close to the original, and where I have allowed my translation
to diverge.

My intention is
to produce a faithful translation of both the form AND the content of the
original. The poem's 14th Century English is close enough to modern English in
syntax and vocabulary, that it is often possible to salvage large bits of his
original poetry with only minor modifications. But only sometimes. Much of the
time, the original vocabulary has gone the way of the dodo, and the translator
must find other words and phrasings that will carry the same sense as the
original. 

My strategy
when faced with this dilemma has been to produce a translation that faithfully
reflects the meaning of each LINE. but not of each individual word. In an
alliterative line, if you change one key word, you have to change all the rest
of them, in order to keep the alliteration synchronized. So there are cases
where one of my lines varies considerably from the original, such as line 419,
which I have translated "and raised the rich riot of his hair," when
the original talks about the Green Knight lifting his locks above the crown of
his head. Such translations are not word for word, but they preserve the narrative
import of the line, while making it work as alliterative poetry. 

A similar,
and somewhat more difficult problem, is presented by the fact that the poet
uses short rhymed codas at the end of each strophe. These tags, called the
"bob" and the "wheel" by medieval scholars, are a real
challenge since it is very hard to translate the meaning clearly AND maintain a
strict rhyme scheme in short lines typically six syllables long. I have tried
as much as possible to preserve many of the author's original rhymes, since typically
they are quite important to the meaning.

Since my goal is to keep the
form of the original, to the extent that it can be reflected in modern English,
I have also translated the poem into alliterative verse: that is, into poetry
in which the lines are bound together by repetition of the initial consonants
on the primary stressed syllables. I have chosen a form which is quite similar
to the original, typically alliterating the first three of four stressed beats
in the line, with variable numbers of unstressed syllables, and variants in
which only two beats alliterate, or where two different consonants alliterate
in the same line, or where the last beat in the line bears the alliteration (in
contrast to the strict pattern observed by Beowulf, but not by the Gawain
poet.) 

I hope that
this translation will convey to a modern audience something of the power,
humor, and drama of the original.







Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight


Translation by Paul Deane





Historical Prologue





(1)


The siege and assault having ceased at Troy


as its blazing battlements blackened to ash,

the man who had planned and plotted that treason had trial enough for the
truest traitor!

Then Aeneas the prince and his honored line

plundered provinces and held in their power

nearly all the wealth of the western isles.

Thus Romulus swiftly arriving at Rome

sets up that city and in swelling pride

gives it his name, the name it now bears;

and in Tuscany Tirius raises up towns,

and in Lombardy Langoberde settles the land,

and far past the French coast Felix Brutus

founds Britain on broad hills, and so bright hopes begin, where wonders, wars,
misfortune and troubled times have been,

where bliss and blind confusion

have come and gone again.



(2)

From the founding of Britain by this brave prince, bold men have bred there,
burning for war, stirring up turmoil through the turning years. More wonders in
the world have been witnessed here than anywhere else from that age forward. But
of all who were crowned kings over Britain the most honor was Arthur's, as old
tales tell.

So I mean to make known a marvel on earth,

an astonishing sight, as some men would call it, an extraordinary exploit among
Arthur's wonders.

Listen to this lay for a little while and as townsmen tell it, so this tale
will trip along,

a story pinned in patterns steadfast, steady, strong: aligned in linking
letters as folk have loved so long.




Book I: Christmas in Camelot





(3)


One Christmas in Camelot King Arthur sat


at ease with his lords and loyal liegemen

arranged as brothers round the Round Table.

Their reckless jokes rang about that rich hall

till they turned from the table to the tournament field and jousted like
gentlemen with lances and laughs, then trooped to court in a carolling crowd. For
the feast lasted a full fifteen days of meals and merriment (as much as could
fit.)

Such gay glee must gladden the ear --

by day what a din, and dancing by night!

The halls and chambers were heaped with happy lords and ladies as high as you
like!

There they were gathered with all the world's goodness: knights as kind as
Christ himself,

ladies as lovely as ever have lived, and the noblest king our nation has known.
They were yet in the pride, in the prime of their youth,

and filled as full of heaven's blessing

as the king had strength of will. And mighty men surpassing all were gathered
on that hill.



(4)

While the year was as young as New Years can be the dais was prepared for a
double feast. The king and his company came in together when mass had been
chanted; and the chapel emptied as clergy and commons alike cried out, "Noel!
Noel!" again and again.

And the lords ran around loaded with parcels,

palms extended to pass out presents, or crowded together comparing gifts.

The ladies laughed when they lost at a game

(that the winner was willing, you may well believe!)

Round they milled in a merry mob till the meal was ready, washed themselves
well, and walked to their places (the best for the best on seats raised above.)

Then Guinevere moved gaily among them,

took her place on the dais, which was dearly adorned with sides of fine silk
and a canopied ceiling of sheer stuff: and behind her shimmering tapestries
from far Tarsus,

embroidered, bedecked with bright gems

that the jewelers would pay a pretty price for

any day, but the finest gem in the field of sight looked back: her eyes were
grey.

That a lovelier's lived to delight

the gaze - is a lie, I'd say!



(5)

But Arthur would not eat till all were served.

He bubbled to the brim with boyish spirits:

liked his life light, and loathed the thought

of lazing for long or sitting still longer.

So his young blood boiled and his brain ran wild, and in many ways moved him
still more

as a point of honor never to eat on a high holiday till he should have heard a
strange story of stirring adventures, of mighty marvels to make the mind
wonder, of princes, prowess, or perilous deeds.

Or someone might come, seeking a knight

to join him in jousting, enjoying the risk

of laying their lives on the line like men

leaving to fortune the choice of her favor.

This was the king's custom at court, the practice he followed at pleasant
feasts held

in his hall; therefore with bold face he stood there straight and tall.

As New Years proceeded apace he meant to have mirth with them all.&nbsp;



(6)

So he stood there stock-still, a king standing tall, talking of courtly trifles
before the high table. By Guinevere sat Gawain the Good,

and Agravaine of the Heavy Hand on the other side: knights of great worth, and
nephews to the king. Baldwin, the bishop, was above, by the head, with Ywain,
Urien's son, sitting across. These sat at the dais and were served with due
honor; and many mighty men were seated on either side.

Then the first course came with a clamor of trumpets whose banners billowed
bright to the eye, while kettledrums rolled and the cry of the pipes wakened a
wild, warbling music

whose touch made the heart tremble and skip.

Delicious dishes were rushed in, fine delicacies fresh and plentiful, piled so
high on so many platters they had problems finding places to set down their
silver bowls of steaming soup: no spot was clear. Each lord dug in with
pleasure, and grabbed at what lay near: twelve platters piled past measure, bright
wine, and foaming beer.








(7)


I need say no more how they served the food,


for what fool would fancy their feast was a famine?

But a new noise announced itself quickly enough to grant the high lord leave to
have dinner. The music had finished but a moment before, the first course just
served, and set before the court, when a horrible horseman hurtled through the
doors, his body as brawny as any can be, so bull-necked, big-thighed, bulky and
square, so long-legged, large- limbed, looming so tall I can hardly tell if he
were half troll, or merely as large as living man can be -- a handsome one too;
as hearty a hulk as ever rode horse. His back and chest were broad as a barrel,
but he slimmed at the waist, with a slender stomach, and his face was well
formed, with features sharp and clean -- Men sat there gaping, gasping at his
strange, unearthly sheen, as if a ghost were passing, for every inch was green.



(8)

He was got up in green from head to heel:

a tunic worn tight, tucked to his ribs;

and a rich cloak cast over it, covered inside

with a fine fur lining, fitted and sewn

with ermine trim that stood out in contrast

from his hair where his hood lay folded flat;

and handsome hose of the same green hue

which clung to his calves, with clustered spurs of bright gold; beneath them
striped embroidered silk above his bare shanks, for he rode shoeless. His
clothes were all kindled with a clear light like emeralds: His belt buckles
sparkled, and bright stones were set

in rich rows arranged up and down himself and his saddle. Worked in the silk were
too many trifles to tell the half of: embroidered birds, butterflies, and other
things in a gaudy glory of green and inlaid gold.

And the bit and bridle, the breastplate on the horse, and all its tackle were
trimmed with green enamel, even the saddlestraps, the stirrups on which he
stood, and the bows of his saddle with its billowing skirts which glimmered and
glinted with green jewels.

The stallion that bore him was the best of its breed it was plain, a green
horse great and strong, that sidled, danced and strained, but the bridle-braid
led it along, turning as it was trained.



(9)

He was a fine fellow fitted in green --

And the hair on his head and his horse's matched.

It fanned out freely enfolding his shoulders,

and his beard hung below as big as a bush,

all mixed with the marvelous mane on his head, which was cut off in curls cascading
to his elbows, wrapping round the rest of him

like a king's cape clasped to his neck.

And the mane of his mount was much the same, but curled up and combed in crisp
knots, in braids of bright gold thread and brilliant green criss-crossed hair
by hair.

And the tossing tail was twin to the mane,

for both were bound with bright green ribbons, strung to the end with long
strands of precious stones, and turned back tight in a twisted knot bright with
tinkling bells of burnished gold.

No such horse on hoof had been seen in that hall, nor horseman half so strange
as their eyes now held in sight.

He looked a lightning flash, they say: he seemed so bright; and who would dare
to clash in melee with such might?



(10)

Yet he had on no hauberk, nor a helmet for his head, neither neck-guard nor
breastplate to break heavy blows, neither shaft nor shield for the shock of
combat.

But he held in one hand a sprig of holly

that bursts out greenest when branches are bare; and his other hand hefted a
huge and awful ax, a broad battleax with a bit to tell (take it who can) with a
large head four feet long: the green steel down the grain etched with gold, its
broad edge burnished and bright, shaped razor-sharp to sheer through steel, and
held high on a heavy staff which was bound at the base with iron bands gracefully
engraved in bright green patterns.

A strap was strung through the steel head, running loop after loop down the
length of the handle, which was tied with tassels in abundance, attaching by
rich braids onto bright green buttons. This rider reined in as he rode through
the doors direct to the high dais without a word, giving no greeting, gazing
down on them all.

His first word came when he stopped. "Where," he said, "is the
master of these men? I've a mind to see his face and would fancy a chat with
the fellow who wears the crown."

To each lord he turned and glancing up and down he fixed each face to learn which
knight held most renown.



(11)

They stared at the stranger, stunned, a very long time.

For each man wondered what it might mean

that man and mount both shone a shade

as green as the grass, and greener even

than green enamel glows when gold makes it brighter.

All eyes were on him, and some edged closer,

wondering what in the world he would do.

They had seen enough strange sights to know how seldom they are real; therefore
they feared him for a phantom, a sending from the Unseen Realm.

So of all those noble knights, none dared answer but sat there stupefied by the
strength of his voice.

A silence fell filling that rich hall as if they'd all fainted or suddenly
slept: their voices just vanished at their height.

Some, I suppose, were not floored, but chose to be polite, letting their leader
and lord be first to speak to that knight.



(12)

Arthur stood watching adventure advance

and answered quickly as honor bid, neither awed nor afraid, saying,
"Wanderer, know you are welcome here. dismount, if you may; make merry as
you wish, and we may learn in a little while what you would like."

"So help me God who sits on high," he said, "No." "It
is not my purpose to pass any time in this place.

But I have been told that your reputation towers to heaven: that your court and
castle are accounted the finest, your knights and their steeds as the sturdiest
in steel, the best, the boldest, the bravest on earth, and as fitting foes in
any fine sport.

True knighthood is known here, or so the tale runs, which is why I have come
calling today.

You may be sure by this branch that I bear

that I come in peace, with no plans for battle.

I have a hauberk at home, and a helmet too,

and other weapons I know well how to wield.

Yet as war is not my wish I am wearing soft silk, but, if you are as bold as
men believe you to be, you will be glad to grant me the game that is mine by
right." Then Arthur said, "I swear, most courteous, noble knight,

if you'd like to battle bare, you'll not fail to find a fight."



(13)

"Never fear," he said, "I'm not fishing for a fight with the
beardless children on the benches all about.

If I were strapped on steel on a sturdy horse

no man here has might to match me.

No, I have come to this court for a bit of Christmas fun fitting for Yuletide
and New Years with such a fine crowd.

Who here in this house thinks he has what it takes, has bold blood and a brash
head, and dares to stand his ground, giving stroke for stroke?

Here! I shall give him this gilded blade as my gift; this heavy ax shall be
his, to handle as he likes, and I shall stand here bare of armor, and brave the
first blow.

If anyone's tough enough to try out my game,

let him come here quickly and claim his weapon!

I give up all rights; he will get it for keeps.

I'll stand like a tree trunk -- he can strike at me once, if you'll grant me
the right to give as good as I get in play. But later is soon enough, a full
year and a day. Get up, if you think you're rough, let's see what you dare to
say!"



(14)

If at first he had stunned them, now they sat stone-still: the whole hall, both
high and low.

The mounted man moved in his saddle, glared a red glance grimly about, arched
his bushy brows, all brilliant and green, his beard waving as he waited for one
man to rise,

to call or came forward. He coughed loudly,

stretched slowly, and straightened to speak.

"Hah! They call this King Arthur's house,

a living legend in land after land?

Where have your pride and your power gone,

your bragging boasts, your big words?

The glories and triumphs of the Round Table

have toppled at the touch of one man's words!

What? Fainting with fear, when no fight is offered?"

He let out a laugh so loud that Arthur winced

with shame; the blood shot to his flushed face

and churned with rage and raised a storm until their hearts all burned. All
king in face and form, he reached that rider, turned,







(15)


and said, "Look here, by heaven! Have you lost your mind?

If you want to be mad, I will make you welcome!

Nobody I know is bowled over by your big words, so help me God! Hand me that ax
--

I will grant you the gift you beg me to give!"

He leaped lightly up and lifted it from his hand. Then the man dismounted,
moving proudly, while Arthur held the ax, both hands on the haft, hefted it
sternly, considered his stroke.

That burly man bulked big and tall,

a head higher than anyone in the house.

He stood there hard-faced, stroking his beard,

impassively watching as he pulled off his coat, no more moved or dismayed by
his mighty swings than anybody would be if somebody brought him a bottle of
wine.

Gawain, sitting by the queen, could tell the king his mind: "Lord, hear
well what I mean,

and let this match be mine."



(16)

"Grant leave, good lord," said Gawain to the king, "to stir from
my seat and stand by your side; that I might rise without rudeness from this
table without fear of offending your fair queen, and come before your court as
a counselor should.

It is plainly improper, as people know well,

to point this proposal at the prince himself.

Though you may be eager to act for yourself,

there are so many bold knights on the benches all about, none more masterful in
mind maybe than move move under heaven, nor many built better for the field of
battle.

Of all your men of war I am the weakest and least wise, and my life little
enough to lose, if you look at it clearly.

My only honor is that you are my uncle; my only boast is that my body carries
your blood.

Since this whole matter is such a mockery, it is not meant for you; and I am
first on the field: let this folly be mine.

If my claim is uncalled-for let the court judge; I will bear the blame."

They huddled hushed around and all advised the same: respect the royal crown, and
give Gawain the game.



(17)

Then the king commanded him to rise and come forward, and he stood quickly,
walked with stately steps to kneel before the king and claim his weapon. Arthur
handed it over and held up his hand to give him God's blessing. With a glad
smile he charged him to be hardy in heart. "Cousin, careful," he
said, "cut him but once. And if you teach him truly, I trust you will find
you can bear the blow that he brings you later."

Gawain went to the warrior, weapon in hand,

not the least bit bashful, as bold as can be.

Then the Green Knight said to Gawain,

"We should go over our agreement before we begin. First, knight, I would
know your name,

told truly as one I can trust." "My name is Gawain," he said,
"I give it in good faith,

as I will give you a blow and bear what comes after.

At this time in twelve months I will take a blow back from what weapon you
wish, but from no other knight alive."

The other answering spoke, "Sir Gawain: good. I derive great pleasure from
the stroke

your hardy hands will drive."



(18)

"Gad!" the Green Knight said. "Sir Gawain, I am glad that your
fist will fetch me the fun I hoped to find.

You have quickly retold in trustworthy words

a correct account of the contract I asked of the king, save one stipulation
that I must state: let it stand as your oath that you will seek me yourself,
and search anywhere you feel I may be found to fetch back the same wages I am
paid today before this proud court."

"Where should I look?" Gawain asked, "Where do you live?"

"By Him that made me, your house is not known to me, neither do I know
you, knight, nor your court nor your name.

But teach me truly, tell me where to find you

and I shall work my wits out to win my way there. I give my plain promise; I
pledge you my word."

"That is enough for a New Year's pledge; you need say no more,"

-- So the green man answered gracious Gawain --

"If I'm telling the truth, why, when I've taken your tap, and you've
lopped me lovingly, you'll learn at once of my house and my home and how I am
named.

Then you can try my hospitality and be true to our compact.

Or I'll have no words to waste, which would be well for you: you'd relax in
this land, and not look for me further.

But stop!

Take up the grim tool you need, and show me how you chop."

"Gladly, sir," he said, "Indeed,"

and gave the ax a strop.



(19)

The green knight got ready, feet firm on the ground; leaned his head a little
to let the cheek show, and raised the rich riot of his hair

so the nape of his neck was naked and exposed. Gawain held the ax high
overhead,

his left foot set before him on the floor, swung swiftly at the soft flesh so
the bit of the blade broke through the bones, crashed through the clear fat and
cut it in two, and the brightly burnished edge bit into the earth.

The handsome head fell, hit the ground, and rolled forward; they fended it off
with their feet.

The red blood burst bright from the green body, yet the fellow neither faltered
nor fell

but stepped strongly out on sturdy thighs,

reached roughly right through their legs,

grabbed his graceful head and lifted it from the ground, ran to his horse,
caught hold of the reins, stepped in the stirrup, strode into the saddle, the
head dangling by the hair from his hand, and seated himself as firmly in the
saddle as if he were unhurt, though he sat on his horse without a head.

He swiveled his bulk about;

the ugly stump still bled.

They gaped in fear and doubt

because of the words he said.



(20)

For he held the head up evenly in his hand,

turned the face toward the top of the high table, and the eyelids lifted and
looked on them all while the mouth moved, making these words: "Gawain, get
ready to go as you have promised, Seek me out, sir; search till you find me as
sworn here in this hall where all these knights heard. I charge you, come as
you chose to the Green Chapel to get as good as you gave -- you've got it
coming and will be paid promptly when another year has passed.

Many men know me as the Knight of the Green Chapel, so search faithfully and
you'll not fail to find me.

Come, or be called a faithless coward!"

He roared like a raging bull, turned the reins,

and drove for the door, still dangling the head,

while fire flashed from the horse's feet as if its hooves were flints.

Where he went no one knew, nor could they name the country he came from nor his
kin.

What then?

The king and Gawain grinned and laughed at the Green Knight when they knew full
well it had been a portent to their men.



(21)

Though High King Arthur's heart was heavy with wonder he let no sign of it be
seen, but said aloud with a king's courtesy to his lovely queen: "Beloved
lady, never let this dismay you. It is good to get such games at Christmas, light
interludes, laughter and song,

or the whole court singing carols in chorus.

But truly, I can turn now to my table and feast; as my word is good, I have
witnessed a wonder."

He turned to Sir Gawain and tactfully said,

"Hang up your ax; it has cut all it can."

It was attached to a tapestry above the high table for all men to marvel on who
might see it there, as a true token of a tale of wonder.

Then they sat in their seats to resume their feast, Gawain and the king
together, while good men served them the rarest, dearest delicacies in double
portions, with whole batteries of the best foods, and the singing of bards.




The day finished, and their feast was filled with joy and
zest.


Sir Gawain, have a care to keep your courage for the test, and do the deed
you've dared.


You've begun: now brave the rest.