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

on lyue."
That other onsware3 agayn,
"Sir Gawan, so mot I thryue
As I am ferly fayn
This dint that thou schal dryue.
"Bigog," quoth the grene kny3t, "Sir Gawan, me lykes
That I schal fange at thy fust that I haf frayst here.
And thou hat3 redily rehersed, bi resoun ful trwe,

Clanly al the couenaunt that I the kynge asked,
Saf that thou schal siker me, segge, bi thi trawthe,
That thou schal seche me thiself, where-so thou hopes
I may be funde vpon folde, and foch the such wages
As thou deles me to-day bifore this douthe ryche."
"Where schulde I wale the," quoth Gauan, "where is thy place?
I wot neuer where thou wonyes, bi hym that me wro3t,
Ne I know not the, kny3t, by cort ne thi name.
Bot teche me truly therto, and telle me how thou hattes,
And I schal ware alle my wyt to wynne me theder,
And that I swere the for sothe, and by my seker traweth."
"That is innogh in Nwe Ygher, hit nedes no more,"
Quoth the gome in the grene to Gawan the hende;
"Yghif I the telle trwly, quen I the tape haue
And thou me smothely hat3 smyten, smartly I the teche
Of my hous and my home and myn owen nome,
Then may thou frayst my fare and forwarde3 holde;
And if I spende no speche, thenne spede3 thou the better,
For thou may leng in thy londe and layt no fyrre--
bot slokes!
Ta now thy grymme tole to the,
And let se how thou cnoke3."
"Gladly, sir, for sothe,"
Quoth Gawan; his ax he strokes.
The grene kny3t vpon grounde graythely hym dresses,
A littel lut with the hede, the lere he discouere3,
His longe louelych lokke3 he layd ouer his croun,
Let the naked nec to the note schewe.
Gauan gripped to his ax, and gederes hit on hy3t,
The kay fot on the folde he before sette,
Let him doun ly3tly lyyght on the naked,
That the scharp of the schalk schyndered the bones,
And schrank thur3 the schyire grece, and schade hit in twynne,
That the bit of the broun stel bot on the grounde.
The fayre hede fro the halce hit to the erthe,
That fele hit foyned wyth her fete, there hit forth roled;
The blod brayd fro the body, that blykked on the grene;

And nawther faltered ne fel the freke neuer the helder,
Bot stythly he start forth vpon styf schonkes,
And runyschly he ra3t out, there as renkke3 stoden,