"J.R.R. Tolkien - Sir Gawain And The Green Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tolkien J.R.R)

That dar stifly strike a strok for an other,
I schal gif hym of my gyft thys giserne ryche,
This ax, that is heue innogh, to hondele as hym lykes,
And I schal bide the fyrst bur as bare as I sitte.
If any freke be so felle to fonde that I telle,
Lepe ly3tly me to, and lach this weppen,
I quit-clayme hit for euer, kepe hit as his auen,
And I schal stonde hym a strok, stif on this flet,
Elle3 thou wyl di3t me the dom to dele hym an other
barlay,
And 3et gif hym respite,
A twelmonyth and a day;
Now hy3e, and let se tite
Dar any herinne o3t say."
If he hem stowned vpon fyrst, stiller were thanne
Alle the heredmen in halle, the hy3 and the loyghe.
The renk on his rounce hym ruched in his sadel,
And runischly his rede y3en he reled aboute,
Bende his bresed bro3e3, blycande grene,
Wayued his berde for to wayte quo-so wolde ryse.
When non wolde kepe hym with carp he co3ed ful hyyghe,
Ande rimed hym ful richly, and ry3t hym to speke:
"What, is this Arthures hous," quoth the hathel thenne,
"That al the rous rennes of thur3 ryalmes so mony?
Where is now your sourquydrye and your conquestes,
Your gryndellayk and your greme, and your grete wordes?
Now is the reuel and the renoun of the Rounde Table
Ouerwalt wyth a worde of on wy3es speche,
For al dares for drede withoute dynt schewed!"
Wyth this he la3es so loude that the lorde greued;
The blod schot for scham into his schyre face
and lere;

He wex as wroth as wynde,
So did alle that ther were.
The kyng as kene bi kynde
Then stod that stif mon nere,
Ande sayde, "Hathel, by heuen, thyn askyng is nys,
And as thou foly hat3 frayst, fynde the behoues.
I know no gome that is gast of thy grete wordes;
Gif me now thy geserne, vpon Gode3 halue,
And I schal baythen thy bone that thou boden habbes."
Ly3tly lepe3 he hym to, and layght at his honde.
Then feersly that other freke vpon fote ly3tis.
Now hat3 Arthure his axe, and the halme grypez,
And sturnely sture3 hit aboute, that stryke wyth hit tho3t.
The stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hy3t,
Herre then ani in the hous by the hede and more.
Wyth sturne schere ther he stod he stroked his berde,
And wyth a countenaunce dry3e he droygh doun his cote,