‘Radix malorum est cupiditas.’

A hundred marks, since I’ve been pardoner. 105 I stand up like a scholar in pulpit, And when the uneducated people all do sit, I preach, as you have heard me say before,

Here is a mitten, too, that you may see. Who puts his hand therein, I say again, He shall have increased harvest of his grain, After he’s sown, be it of wheat or oats, 90 Just so he offers pence or offers gr

Radix malorum est Cupiditas.

 “Lordynges,

The lord said: ‘By Saint Giles, you are the best that I know; you’ll be rich in a while, if your trade continues so.’

I am at your command, to kiss when you like; you may lip when you will, and leave when you wish

ending all readily right to the fork, voiding the entrails, and verily thereafter all the membranes by the ribs readily loosened. So too they cleared to the backbone, rightly, even down to the haunch that hangs from the same, and heaved it all up whole and hewed it off there. and that they properly call the numbles, I deem, by kind. At the fork then of the thighs they loose the lappets behind; to hew it in two they hie,

And ever the lord of the land intent on his games, hunted, in holts and heath, for barren hinds, Such a sum he there slew by the set of sun, of does and other deer, it were deemed a wonder.

but he had craved a kiss out of courtesy, with some trifling touch at some tale’s end.’

ood faith, Sir Gawain,’ quoth the sweet lady, ‘The worth and the prowess that pleases all others, if I slighted or thought light of it, that were little grace; but there are ladies enough that would far rather have you, dear man, to hold, as I have you here, to dally dearly in your delightful words, comfort themselves and ease their cares,

e welcome to my body, Your pleasure to take all; I must by necessity your servant be, and shall.’ 50

Sir Gawain you are, that all the world worships, wherever you ride. Your honour, your courtesy, is nobly praised among lords, among ladies, all who life bear. And now you are here, indeed, and we on our own; my lord and his lords are far off faring, other knights are abed, and my ladies also,

‘Good morning, Sir Gawain,’ said that sweet lady, ‘You are a sleeper unsafe, that one may slip hither. Now are you taken in a trice, lest a truce we shape, I shall bind you in your bed, that you may trust.’ All laughing the lady made her light jests. ‘Good morrow, sweet,’ quoth Gawain the blithe, ‘I shall work your will, and that I well like, for I yield me swiftly and sue for grace; and that is the best, to my mind, since behoves I must.’

With chin and cheek full sweet, both white and red together, full graciously did she greet, lips light with laughter.

It was the lady, the loveliest to behold, that drew the door after her full silent and still, and bent her way to the bed; and the knight ashamed, laid him down again lightly and feigned to sleep. And she stepped silently and stole to his bed, caught up the curtain and crept within, and sat her full softly on the bedside

They let the harts with high branched heads have way, the brave bucks also with their broad antlers;

blew briskly on their bugles three bare notes; braches bayed therefore, and bold noise made, and men chastised and turned those that chasing went, a hundred of hunters, as I have heard tell, of the best.

A green horse great and thick, a steed full strong to restrain,

Wonder at his hue men displayed, set in his semblance seen; he fared as a giant were made, and over all deepest green.

with Guinevere, full gaily, gracing their midst, dressed on the dais there, adorned all about – splendid silk by her sides, and sheer above of true Toulouse, of Tartar tapestries plenty,

For there the feast was alike full fifteen days, with all the meat and mirth men could devise: such clamour and glee glorious to hear, dear din in the daylight, dancing of nights; all was happiness high in halls and chambers with lords and ladies, as liked them all best.

than any other I know of, since that same time. But of all that here built, of Britain the kings, ever was Arthur highest, as I have heard tell.

These two fond lovers sought neither countenance of their kin, nor counsel of any man. Their son handselled them together, and gave the mother to his sire. From the day they were wed they dwelt in wealth and in sweetness to the e

Since then Launfal had not spoken in malice against his lady, the lords of the household gave him again his sword.

“By my faith,” cried he, “yes, she is indeed my friend. It is a small matter now whether men slay me, or set me free; for I am made whole of my hurt just by looking on her face.”

Her throat was whiter than snow on branch, and her eyes were like flowers in the pallor of her face. She had a witching mouth, a dainty nose, and an open brow. Her eyebrows were brown, and her golden hair parted in two soft waves upon her head. She was clad in a shift of spotless linen, and above her snowy kirtle was set a mantle of royal purple, clasped upon her breast. She carried a hooded falcon upon her glove, and a greyhound followed closely

there came riding to the palace the flower of all the ladies of the world. She came mounted upon a palfrey, white as snow, which carried her softly, as though she loved her burthen. Beneath the sky was no goodlier steed, nor one more gentle to the hand. The harness of the palfrey was so rich, that no king on earth might hope to buy trappings so precious, unless he sold or set his realm in pledge.

Launfal, and showed him these maidens, praying him to say which of them was his friend. But he answered never a word. The maidens dismounted from their palfreys, and coming before the dais where the King was seated, spake him fairly, as they were fair.

This counsel seemed good to the lords of the household. They sent certain of his friends to Launfal, to acquaint him with their judgment, bidding him to pray his damsel to the Court, that he might be acquitted of this blame. The knight made answer that in no wise could he do this thing. So the sureties returned before the judges, saying that Launfal hoped neither for refuge nor for succour from the lady, and Arthur urged them to a speedy ending, because of the prompting of the Queen.

“Vassal,” said he, harshly, “you have done me a bitter wrong. It was a foul deed to seek to shame me in this ugly fashion, and to smirch the honour of the Queen. Is it folly or lightness which leads you to boast of that lady, the least of whose maidens is fairer, and goes more richly, than the Queen?”

Had any man slain him on the road, he would have counted him his friend.

Very near he came to ending all this trouble with his knife.

a hundred times he implored the Maiden that she would deign to speak with her knight

ht who so evilly had entreated the Queen

Thereat the King waxed marvellously wrathful, and swore a great oath that he would set Launfal within a fire, or hang him from a tree, if he could not deny this thing, before his peers.

The Queen rose straightway to her feet, and fled to her chamber, weeping. Right wrathful and heavy was she, because of the words that had besmirched her.

is so rich in state, that the very meanest of her maidens, excels you, Lady Queen, as much in clerkly skill and goodness, as in sweetness of body and face, and in every virtue.”

Neither am I a despiser of woman, since I love, and am loved, of one who would bear the prize from all the ladies in the land. Dame, know now and be persuaded, that she, whom I serve, is so rich in state, that the very meanest of her maidens, excels you, Lady Queen, as much in clerkly skill and goodness, as in sweetness of body and face, and in every virtue.”

When the Queen heard this, she was full of wrath, and spoke many hot and bitter words.

Then she opened out her heart.

The ladies of the Queen’s fellowship seemed but kitchen wenche

Launfal within his hostel, entreated him to take his pastime with them in that fair meadow. The Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and three ladies of her fellowship. They saw the lords at their pleasure, and Launfal also, whom well they knew.

“Lords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this pleasaunce without our comrade Launfal. It is not well to slight a prince as brave as he is courteous, and of a lineage prouder than

Launfal brought him to his hall, for refreshment and delight. Launfal bestowed rich gifts. Launfal redeemed the poor captive. Launfal clothed in scarlet the minstrel. Launfal gave honour where honour was due. Stranger and friend alike he comforted at need. So, whether by night or by day, Launfal lived greatly at his ease.

He was altogether astonished, and knew not what to do. He feared that pavilion and Maiden alike were from the realm of faery.

The destrier was newly saddled and bridled, and showed proudly in his rich gay trappings.

But one dish was more to the knight’s relish than any other.

Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He sealed the covenant with a kiss, and stood upon his feet.

Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He sealed the covenant with a kiss, and stood upon his feet. Th

When you would speak with me I shall hasten to come before your wish.

You may see me at your pleasure; my voice shall speak softly in your ear at will; but I must never be known of your comrades, nor must they ever learn my speech.”

Right merry was the pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such a gift, that the more pennies he bestowed, the more silver and gold were in his pouch.

He might waste and spend at will and pleasure, but in his purse ever there was to spare.

When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so fondly she desired to love, she was altogether moved, and granted him forthwith her heart and her tenderness

. For you I renounce my father and my father’s house. This only I pray, that I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that you will never send me from your side.”

All his desire was to go with the damsels, to that pavilion of silk and divers colours, pitched in so fair a place.

By reason of the heat her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat and the rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more untouched than hawthorn in May.

The elder of these ladies carried in her hands a basin of pure gold, cunningly wrought by some crafty smith—very fair and precious was the cup; and the younger bore a towel of soft white linen.

purple hue

Love terrible, that rode them, and could see in these lovers their every sense overflowing like new wine working in the vat.

The lovers held each other; life and desire trembled through their youth, and Tristan said, “Well then, come Death.”

Stay and return if still you can … But oh! that path has no returning. For already Love and his strength drag you on and now henceforth forever never shall you know joy without pain again. The wine possesses you, the draught your mother gave me, the draught the King alone should have drunk with you: but that old Enemy has tricked us, all us three; friend Tristan, Iseult my friend, for that bad ward I kept take here my body and my life, for through me and in that cup you have drunk not love alone, but love and death togethe

t! Iseult is yours and I am but your vassal; Iseult is yours and I am your son; Iseult is yours and may not love me.”

“Cursed be the day I was born and cursed the day that first I trod this deck. Iseult, my friend, and Tristan, you, you have drunk death together.”

The Queen drank deep of that draught and gave it to Tristan and he drank also long and emptied it all.

Accursed be the sea that bears me, for rather would I lie dead on the earth where I was born than live out there, beyond. …

“Child, it is yours to go with Iseult to King Mark’s country, for you love her with a faithful love. Take then this pitcher and remember well my words. Hide it so that no eye shall see nor no lip go near it: but when the wedding night has come and that moment in which the wedded are left alone, pour this essenced wine into a cup and offer it to King Mark and to Iseult his queen. Oh! Take all care, my child, that they alone shall taste this brew. For this is its power: they who drink of it together love each other with their every single sense and with their every thought, forever, in life and in death.”

So, for the love of King Mark, did Tristan conquer the Queen of the Hair of Gold.

that King Mark sends you by their embassy offer of peace and of brotherhood and goodwill;

“But that these lands of Cornwall and Ireland may know no more hatred, but love only, learn that King Mark, my lord, will marry her.

But among the Irish many knew him again and cried, “Tristan of Lyonesse that slew the Morholt!” They drew their swords and clamoured for death. But Iseult cried: “King, kiss this man upon the lips as your oath was,” and the King kissed him, and the clamour fell.

Then she found Tristan and led him before the Barony. And as he came the hundred knights rose all together, and crossed their arms upon their breasts and bowed, so the Irish knew that he was their lord.

“King, I have here a man who challenges your seneschal for lies and felony. Promise that you will pardon this man all his past deeds, who stands to prove that he and none other slew the dragon, and grant him forgiveness and your peace.”

Iseult put down the sword and taking up the Coat of Arms she saw upon it the Hair of Gold and was silent a long space, till she kissed him on the lips to prove peace, and she put rich garments over him.

“King’s daughter,” said Tristan, “No. … One day two swallows flew, and flew to Tintagel and bore one hair out of all your hairs of gold, and I thought they brought me good will and peace, so I came to find you over-seas

Iseult replied: “I hear strange words. Why should he that killed the Morholt seek me also, his niece? Doubtless because the Morholt came for a tribute of maidens from Cornwall, so you came to boast returning that you had brought back the maiden who was nearest to him, to Cornwall, a slave.”

My life is yours because you have twice returned it me. Once, long ago: for I was the wounded harper whom you healed of the poison of the Morholt’s shaft. Nor repent the healing: were not these wounds had in fair fight? Did I kill the Morholt by treason? Had he not defied me and was I not held to the defence of my body? And now this second time also you have saved me. It was for you I fought the beast.

but when she saw the splinter gone and the gap in the edge she thought of the Morholt’s head.

“So I have found the Queen of the Hair of Gold,” and he smiled as he thought it. But Iseult, noting it, thought, “Why does he smile, or what have I neglected of the things due to a guest? He smiles to think I have for— gotten to burnish his armour.”

Then he cut out the tongue and put it into his hose, but as the poison came against his flesh the hero fainted and fell in the high grass that bordered the marsh around.

Tristan standing on his feet thrust his sword right into the beast’s jaws, and split its heart in two.

the dragon vomited from his nostrils two streams of loath-some flames

Increase Font Size Toggle Menu HomeReadSign in Search in book: Search Contents I. The Middle Ages (ca. 476-1485) 1. Bede (ca. 672-735) Bede: BiographyCaedmon’s Hymn 2. Dream of the Rood Dream of the Rood 3. Beowulf: Parts I & II Introduction: BeowulfStory SummaryThemesHistorical BackgroundLiterary StyleReading:Part IPart II 4. Beowulf: Part III Part III 5. Judith  Judith6. The Wanderer 7. Wulf and Eadwacer Wulf and Eadwacer 8. The Wife's Lament The Wife’s Lament 9. The Ruin The Ruin 10. Selection of Old English Riddles Selections from Old English Poems 11. The Myth of Arthur's Return Geoffrey of Monmouth: From The History of the Kings of BritainWace: From Roman de BrutLayamon: From Brut  II. Irish Literature 12. Cúchulainn’s Boyish Deeds Cúchulainn: IntroductionCuchulainn’s Boyish Deeds III. Anglo-Norman Literature 13. Tristan and Iseult Introduction: Tristan and IseultThe Story SummaryLiterary ThemesReading: Tristan and Yseult 14. Guide for Anchoresses (Ancrene Wisse) The Sweetness and Pain of Enclosure15. Romances of Marie de France IV. Middle English Literature in the 14th and 15th Century 16. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (ca. 1375-1400) 17. Sir Gawain: Parts I & II Part IPart II 18. Sir Gawain: Parts III & IV Part IIIPart IV19. Geoffrey Chaucer: The Canterbury Tales 20. Canterbury Tales: General Prologue Prologue 21. Canterbury Tales: Miller's Prologue and Tale The Miller’s PrologueThe Miller’s Tale22. Canterbury Tales: The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale23. Canterbury Tales: The Pardoner's Prologue and Tale24. Canterbury Tales: The Nun's Priest's Tale25. Canterbury Tales: Close of Canterbury Tales26. Julian of Norwich: Revelations of Divine Love (Selections) 27. Margery Kempe: Excerpts from The Book of Margery Kempe The Birth of Her First Child and Her First VisionHer Pride and Attempts to Start a Business28. The Wakefield Second Shepherd's Play29. Middle English Lyrics30. Robert Henryson: The Cock and the Jasp31. Everyman32. Thomas Malory: Le Morte d'Arthur V. The Sixteenth Century 33. Sir Thomas More: Utopia UTOPIA34. From: The Book of Common Prayer 35. WOMEN IN POWER: Selected Readings Mary I (Tudor)Lady Jane GreyMary Queen of ScotsElizabeth I36. Edmund Spencer: the Faerie Queene (Book I) 37. Sir Walter Raleigh: Poems and From: The Discovery of the Large, Rich and Beautiful Empire of Guiana Poems38. Sir Philip Sidney: From Astrophil and Stella 39. THE WIDER WORLD: Selected Readings The Wider World: Selected Readings Hakluyt’s Dedicatory Epistle to The Principal Navigations, 1589Leo Africanus on the North Africans, 1526An English Traveller’s Guide to the North Africans, 1547Voyage to the Arctic, 1577, with Reflections on Racial DifferenceAmadas and Barlowe’s Voyage to Virginia, 1584Hariot’s Report on Virginia, 1585General History of the Turks, 1603 40. Christopher Marlowe: Hero and Leander Hero and Leander 41. Christopher Marlowe: Doctor Faustus The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus 42. William Shakespeare: Selected Sonnets Selected Sonnets 43. William Shakespeare: Taming of the Shrew THE TAMING OF THE SHREW VI. Early Seventeenth Century 44. John Dunne: Selections Songs and SonnetsA Selection of Holy SonnetsFrom: Devotions upon Emergent Occasions45. Aemilia Lanyar: Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum 46. Ben Jonson: Epigrams and Poetry EpigramsPoemsFrom: Underwood 47. GENDER RELATIONS: Conflict and Counsel From: The Arraignment of Lewd, Idle, Froward, and Unconstant Women: Or the Vanity of Them Choose you WhetherRachel Speght: From A Muzzle for Melastomus William Gouge: From Domestical Duties48. Francis Bacon: Essays49. Margaret Cavendish: The Blazing World 50. George Herbert: The Temple The Temple 51. CRISIS OF AUTHORITY: The Beheading of Charles I From: King Charles, His Trial (1649)From: A Perfect Diurnal of Some Passages in Parliament, no. 288Robert Filmer: From Patriarcha John Milton: From The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates Gerrard Winstanley: From A New Year’s Gift Sent to the Parliament and ArmyThomas Hobbes: From Leviathan 52. CRISIS OF AUTHORITY: Political Writing Robert Filmer: From Patriarcha John Milton: From The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates Gerrard Winstanley: From A New Year’s Gift Sent to the Parliament and ArmyThomas Hobbes: From Leviathan 53. CRISIS OF AUTHORITY: Writing the Self Lucy Hutchinson: From Memoirs of the Life of Colonel John HutchinsonEdward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon: From The History of the RebellionLady Anne Halkett: From The Memoires 54. John Milton: Poems and Sonnets LycidasSonnets 55. John Milton: Paradise Lost (Books 1-3) BOOK 1BOOK 2BOOK 3 56. John Milton: Paradise Lost (Books 4-6) BOOK 4BOOK 5BOOK 6 57. John Milton: Paradise Lost (Books 7-9) BOOK 7BOOK 8BOOK 9 58. John Milton: Paradise Lost (Books 10-12) BOOK 10BOOK 11BOOK 12 Appendix An Open Companion for British Literature I 13 Tristan and Iseult Introduction: Tristan and Iseult by Noel Wallace Tristan and Isolde by Herbert James Draper (1863-1920). Wikimedia Commons. The story of Tristan and Iseult is an Anglo-Norman story of a love between two tragic lovers fated to be set apart.  The origins of the original text are unknown adding to the mystery of the story. There are also many different versions of the story. Each version just a little different. For clarity purposes of this paper, I will refer to the French version by Joseph Bedier. How daring the legend. How legendary. How incredibly naive. However, are not all young lovers naive? For it takes time to develop skepticism. Cynicism does not belong in the beginning of a story. It only belongs in the end. The lovers begin as two innocent and hopeful characters. Tristan represents the embodiment of all that is chivalrous. The desire to do only what is right by the laws his society. As the novel progresses, the audience will begin to question things as the characters change. At the very end both characters will die tragically apart. Both will have become cynical and heartbroken. Perhaps, you have heard of the two young lovers yourself? Perhaps you have heard how the tragedy of the poisonous wine brought about death and destruction? Was the wine an element of foreshadow? Maybe you are just looking for a great read. Either way the story of the two lovers will indeed be of interest. The Story Summary Set in the medieval era, this is the story of Tristan and Iseult and their tragic love affair. The story begins in Tristan’s childhood and covers a series of youthful adventures which shape him into a Knight. Then Tristan embarks on his biggest quest yet. He journeys to Ireland to obtain Princess Iseult. The plan was to bring the princess back to Ireland to marry King Mark of Cornwall. However, the Queen of Ireland was concerned for her daughter’s wellbeing and concocted an eternal love potion to be consumed by King Mark and Princess Iseult. Accidently Tristan and Iseult consume the potion and fall in love. King Mark and Iseult marry despite the potion. However, Tristan and Iseult are still in love. Though keeping pure, the two often meet in secret. King Mark eventually find out and banishes Tristan. Tristan goes off to another land and finds favor in a new king, marrying his daughter. Despite this Tristan still desperately loves Iseult and she him. In the final chapter Tristan falls ill after an ambus. He sends a messenger to retrieve Iseult the fair. However, he dies before she reaches him. Upon discovering Tristan’s death Iseult dies too. Literary Themes The story of Tristan and Iseult is filled with many themes. Morality was a common element in medieval literature. Thus, one can interpret many moral themes throughout the content. A few examples of these themes include: loyalty, love, fate, courage, and judgement. The theme of love is shown so many times. One could argue that if you took the theme of love out, there would be no story. How can you have a tragic love story without love? There is motherly love, fatherly love, romantic love, and love of a duty. Queen Blanchefleur demonstrates motherly love in that of her new born baby. King Mark, Rohalt, and Squire Gorvenal demonstrate fatherly love. Tristan and Iseult’s relationship demonstrate romantic love. Lastly, one can see love of duty in the actions of Tristan when he gives up his romantic love for a love of duty to King Mark. Another theme is loyalty. Tristan is constantly loyal to Mark even when Mark is not loyal in return. Mark betrays Tristan by allowing his advisors to manipulate his mind. Loyalty is even seen as soon in the story as the second paragraph when King Rivalen of Lyonesse comes to the aid of his ally, Mark of Cornwall. “When Mark was King over Cornwall, Rivalen, King of Lyonesse, heard that Mark’s enemies waged war on him; so, he crossed the sea to bring him aid (page 1).” The themes of Fate and judgement go together. This leads to the idea if something is truly fated, then how can one be judged? Works Cited: “Author ProfileJoseph Bedier.” PublicBookshelf, www.publicbookshelf.com/author/Joseph-Bedier. Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia. “Tristan and Isolde.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 8 Feb. 2012, www.britannica.com/topic/Tristan-and-Isolde. “Joseph Bédier.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 14 Nov. 2018, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Bédier. “Tristan and Iseult.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 18 Jan. 2019, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tristan and Iseult. “Tristan and Isolde.” Myths Encyclopedia, www.mythencyclopedia.com/Tr-Wa/Tristan-and-Isolde.html. Draper, Herbert James. Tristan and Isolde. 1901, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbert James Draper. Discussion Questions: Fate vs. accident: If Tristan and Iseult were fated to be together was it really the wine causing them to fall in love? If fate were in play and there was no wine, would they not have fallen in love anyway? A titanic question: Why do you think that Tristan and Iseult choose to stay in the woods rather than return to Ireland or Lyonesse? A perspective switch: Was King Mark a villain? Judgement Question: The hermit of Ogrin begged Tristan and Iseult to give penance under the laws of Rome for what he saw as a sin. However later Iseult is declared innocent by the hot-iron test. Give an example today that society may see as one thing as a sin, but may not be. Was Tristan wrong to return Iseult to Mark after he sent her to the lepers? At what point, would you consider a relationship over? Further Resources for Students: Fab Audio Books. “Tristan and Isolde: complete unabridged audiobook.” Youtube.com 17 Sept. 2013 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OelPOx-Xg5c&t=4s   WLMi5514. “Tristan and Isolde (2006) Trailer.” Youtube.com 24 Feb 2010 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAJJay0Uv4M   WagneroperaNET. “Leonard Bernstein: Tristan und Isolde, Vorspiel Act 1.” Youtube.com 12 Jan. 2012 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xa7Wo8PkpBs   Carls, Alice-Catherine. “Love in the Last Days: After Tristan and Iseult.” World Literature Today, vol. 92, no. 2, Mar. 2018, pp. 86–87. EBSCOhost, lsproxy.austincc.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com.lsproxy.austincc.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=lfh&AN=128273558&site=eds-live&scope=site. http://eds.a.ebscohost.com.lsproxy.austincc.edu/eds/detail/detail?vid=0&sid=29ca0eca-ebb3-4339-88f3-a9326f4cf7c2%40sessionmgr4008&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWRzLWxpdmUmc2NvcGU9c2l0ZQ%3d%3d#db=lfh&AN=128273558&anchor=TextToSpeech Reading: Tristan and Yseult PART THE FIRST THE CHILDHOOD OF TRISTAN My lords, if you would hear a high tale of love and of death, here is that of Tristan and Queen Iseult; how to their full joy, but to their sorrow also, they loved each other, and how at last they died of that love together upon one day; she by him and he by her. Long ago, when Mark was King over Cornwall, Rivalen, King of Lyonesse, heard that Mark’s enemies waged war on him; so he crossed the sea to bring him aid; and so faithfully did he serve him with counsel and sword that Mark gave him his sister Blanchefleur, whom King Rivalen loved most marvellously. He wedded her in Tintagel Minster, but hardly was she wed when the news came to him that his old enemy Duke Morgan had fallen on Lyonesse and was wasting town and field. Then Rivalen manned his ships in haste, and took Blanchefleur with him to his far land; but she was with child. He landed below his castle of Kanoël and gave the Queen in ward to his Marshal Rohalt, and after that set off to wage his war. Blanchefleur waited for him continually, but he did not come home, till she learnt upon a day that Duke Morgan had killed him in foul ambush. She did not weep: she made no cry or lamentation, but her limbs failed her and grew weak, and her soul was filled with a strong desire to be rid of the flesh, and though Rohalt tried to soothe her she would not hear. Three days she awaited re-union with her lord, and on the fourth she brought forth a son; and taking him in her arms she said: “Little son, I have longed a while to see you, and now I see you the fairest thing ever a woman bore. In sadness came I hither, in sadness did I bring forth, and in sadness has your first feast day gone. And as by sadness you came into the world, your name shall be called Tristan; that is the child of sadness.” After she had said these words she kissed him, and immediately when she had kissed him she died. Rohalt, the keeper of faith, took the child, but already Duke Morgan’s men besieged the Castle of Kanoël all round about. There is a wise saying: “Fool-hardy was never hardy,” and he was compelled to yield to Duke Morgan at his mercy: but for fear that Morgan might slay Rivalen’s heir the Marshal hid him among his own sons. When seven years were passed and the time had come to take the child from the women, Rohalt put Tristan under a good master, the Squire Gorvenal, and Gorvenal taught him in a few years the arts that go with barony. He taught him the use of lance and sword and ’scutcheon and bow, and how to cast stone quoits and to leap wide dykes also: and he taught him to hate every lie and felony and to keep his given word; and he taught him the various kinds of song and harp-playing, and the hunter’s craft; and when the child rode among the young squires you would have said that he and his horse and his armour were all one thing. To see him so noble and so proud, broad in the shoulders, loyal, strong and right, all men glorified Rohalt in such a son. But Rohalt remembering Rivalen and Blanchefleur (of whose youth and grace all this was a resurrection) loved him indeed as a son, but in his heart revered him as his lord. Now all his joy was snatched from him on a day when certain merchants of Norway, having lured Tristan to their ship, bore him off as a rich prize, though Tristan fought hard, as a young wolf struggles, caught in a gin. But it is a truth well proved, and every sailor knows it, that the sea will hardly bear a felon ship, and gives no aid to rapine. The sea rose and cast a dark storm round the ship and drove it eight days and eight nights at random, till the mariners caught through the mist a coast of awful cliffs and sea-ward rocks whereon the sea would have ground their hull to pieces: then they did penance, knowing that the anger of the sea came of the lad, whom they had stolen in an evil hour, and they vowed his deliverance and got ready a boat to put him, if it might be, ashore: then the wind, and sea fell and the sky shone, and as the Norway ship grew small in the offing, a quiet tide cast Tristan and the boat upon a beach of sand. Painfully he climbed the cliff and saw, beyond, a lonely rolling heath and a forest stretching out and endless. And he wept, remembering Gorvenal, his father, and the land of Lyonesse. Then the distant cry of a hunt, with horse and hound, came suddenly and lifted his heart, and a tall stag broke cover at the forest edge. The pack and the hunt streamed after it with a tumult of cries and winding horns, but just as the hounds were racing clustered at the haunch, the quarry turned to bay at a stones throw from Tristan; a huntsman gave him the thrust, while all around the hunt had gathered and was winding the kill. But Tristan, seeing by the gesture of the huntsman that he made to cut the neck of the stag, cried out: “My lord, what would you do? Is it fitting to cut up so noble a beast like any farm-yard hog? Is that the custom of this country?” And the huntsman answered: “Fair friend, what startles you? Why yes, first I take off the head of a stag, and then I cut it into four quarters and we carry it on our saddle bows to King Mark, our lord: So do we, and so since the days of the first huntsmen have done the Cornish men. If, however, you know of some nobler custom, teach it us: take this knife and we will learn it willingly.” Then Tristan kneeled and skinned the stag before he cut it up, and quartered it all in order leaving the crow-bone all whole, as is meet, and putting aside at the end the head, the haunch, the tongue and the great heart’s vein; and the huntsmen and the kennel hinds stood over him with delight, and the Master Huntsman said: “Friend, these are good ways. In what land learnt you them? Tell us your country and your name.” “Good lord, my name is Tristan, and I learnt these ways in my country of Lyonesse.” “Tristan,” said the Master Huntsman, “God reward the father that brought you up so nobly; doubtless he is a baron, rich and strong.” Now Tristan knew both speech and silence, and he answered: “No, lord; my father is a burgess. I left his home unbeknownst upon a ship that trafficked to a far place, for I wished to learn how men lived in foreign lands. But if you will accept me of the hunt I will follow you gladly and teach you other crafts of venery.” “Fair Tristan, I marvel there should be a land where a burgess’s son can know what a knight’s son knows not elsewhere, but come with us since you will it; and welcome: we will bring you to King Mark, our lord.” Tristan completed his task; to the dogs he gave the heart, the head, offal and ears; and he taught the hunt how the skinning and the ordering should be done. Then he thrust the pieces upon pikes and gave them to this huntsman and to that to carry, to one the snout to another the haunch to another the flank to another the chine; and he taught them how to ride by twos in rank, according to the dignity of the pieces each might bear. So they took the road and spoke together, till they came on a great castle and round it fields and orchards, and living waters and fish ponds and plough lands, and many ships were in its haven, for that castle stood above the sea. It was well fenced against all assault or engines of war, and its keep, which the giants had built long ago, was compact of great stones, like a chess board of vert and azure. And when Tristan asked its name: “Good liege,” they said, “we call it Tintagel.” And Tristan cried: “Tintagel! Blessed be thou of God, and blessed be they that dwell within thee.” (Therein, my lords, therein had Rivalen taken Blanchefleur to wife, though their son knew it not.) When they came before the keep the horns brought the barons to the gates and King Mark himself. And when the Master Huntsman had told him all the story, and King Mark had marvelled at the good order of the cavalcade, and the cutting of the stag, and the high art of venery in all, yet most he wondered at the stranger boy, and still gazed at him, troubled and wondering whence came his tenderness, and his heart would answer him nothing; but, my lords, it was blood that spoke, and the love he had long since borne his sister Blanchefleur. That evening, when the boards were cleared, a singer out of Wales, a master, came forward among the barons in Hall and sang a harper’s song, and as this harper touched the strings of his harp, Tristan who sat at the King’s feet, spoke thus to him: “Oh master, that is the first of songs! The Bretons of old wove it once to chant the loves of Graëlent. And the melody is rare and rare are the words: master, your voice is subtle: harp us that well.” But when the Welshman had sung, he answered: “Boy, what do you know of the craft of music? If the burgesses of Lyonesse teach their sons harp—play also, and rotes and viols too, rise, and take this harp and show your skill.” Then Tristan took the harp and sang so well that the barons softened as they heard, and King Mark marvelled at the harper from Lyonesse whither so long ago Rivalen had taken Blanchefleur away. When the song ended, the King was silent a long space, but he said at last: “Son, blessed be the master that taught thee, and blessed be thou of God: for God loves good singers. Their voices and the voice of the harp enter the souls of men and wake dear memories and cause them to forget many a mourning and many a sin. For our joy did you come to this roof, stay near us a long time, friend.” And Tristan answered: “Very willingly will I serve you, sire, as your harper, your huntsman and your liege.” So did he, and for three years a mutual love grew up in their hearts. By day Tristan followed King Mark at pleas and in saddle; by night he slept in the royal room with the councillors and the peers, and if the King was sad he would harp to him to soothe his care. The barons also cherished him, and (as you shall learn) Dinas of Lidan, the seneschal, beyond all others. And more tenderly than the barons and than Dinas the King loved him. But Tristan could not forget, or Rohalt his father, or his master Gorvenal, or the land of Lyonesse. My lords, a teller that would please, should not stretch his tale too long, and truly this tale is so various and so high that it needs no straining. Then let me shortly tell how Rohalt himself, after long wandering by sea and land, came into Cornwall, and found Tristan, and showing the King the carbuncle that once was Blanchefleur’s, said: “King Mark, here is your nephew Tristan, son of your sister Blanchefleur and of King Rivalen. Duke Morgan holds his land most wrongfully; it is time such land came back to its lord.” And Tristan (in a word) when his uncle had armed him knight, crossed the sea, and was hailed of his father’s vassals, and killed Rivalen’s slayer and was re-seized of his land. Then remembering how King Mark could no longer live in joy without him, he summoned his council and his barons and said this: “Lords of the Lyonesse, I have retaken this place and I have avenged King Rivalen by the help of God and of you. But two men Rohalt and King Mark of Cornwall nourished me, an orphan, and a wandering boy. So should I call them also fathers. Now a free man has two things thoroughly his own, his body and his land. To Rohalt then, here, I will release my land. Do you hold it, father, and your son shall hold it after you. But my body I give up to King Mark. I will leave this country, dear though it be, and in Cornwall I will serve King Mark as my lord. Such is my judgment, but you, my lords of Lyonesse, are my lieges, and owe me counsel; if then, some one of you will counsel me another thing let him rise and speak.” But all the barons praised him, though they wept; and taking with him Gorvenal only, Tristan set sail for King Mark’s land. THE MORHOLT OUT OF IRELAND When Tristan came back to that land, King Mark and all his Barony were mourning; for the King of Ireland had manned a fleet to ravage Cornwall, should King Mark refuse, as he had refused these fifteen years, to pay a tribute his fathers had paid. Now that year this King had sent to Tintagel, to carry his summons, a giant knight; the Morholt, whose sister he had wed, and whom no man had yet been able to overcome: so King Mark had summoned all the barons of his land to Council, by letters sealed. On the day assigned, when the barons were gathered in hall, and when the King had taken his throne, the Morholt said these things: “King Mark, hear for the last time the summons of the King of Ireland, my lord. He arraigns you to pay at last that which you have owed so long, and because you have refused it too long already he bids you give over to me this day three hundred youths and three hundred maidens drawn by lot from among the Cornish folk. But if so be that any would prove by trial of combat that the King of Ireland receives this tribute without right, I will take up his wager. Which among you, my Cornish lords, will fight to redeem this land?” The barons glanced at each other but all were silent. Then Tristan knelt at the feet of King Mark and said: “Lord King, by your leave I will do battle.” And in vain would King Mark have turned him from his purpose, thinking, how could even valour save so young a knight? But he threw down his gage to the Morholt, and the Morholt took up the gage. On the appointed day he had himself clad for a great feat of arms in a hauberk and in a steel helm, and he entered a boat and drew to the islet of St. Samson’s, where the knights were to fight each to each alone. Now the Morholt had hoisted to his mast a sail of rich purple, and coming fast to land, he moored his boat on the shore. But Tristan pushed off his own boat adrift with his feet, and said: “One of us only will go hence alive. One boat will serve.” And each rousing the other to the fray they passed into the isle. No man saw the sharp combat; but thrice the salt sea-breeze had wafted or seemed to waft a cry of fury to the land, when at last towards the hour of noon the purple sail showed far off; the Irish boat appeared from the island shore, and there rose a clamour of “the Morholt!” When suddenly, as the boat grew larger on the sight and topped a wave, they saw that Tristan stood on the prow holding a sword in his hand. He leapt ashore, and as the mothers kissed the steel upon his feet he cried to the Morholt’s men: “My lords of Ireland, the Morholt fought well. See here, my sword is broken and a splinter of it stands fast in his head. Take you that steel, my lords; it is the tribute of Cornwall.” Then he went up to Tintagel and as he went the people he had freed waved green boughs, and rich cloths were hung at the windows. But when Tristan reached the castle with joy, songs and joy-bells sounding about him, he drooped in the arms of King Mark, for the blood ran from his wounds. The Morholt’s men, they landed in Ireland quite cast down. For when ever he came back into Whitehaven the Morholt had been wont to take joy in the sight of his clan upon the shore, of the Queen his sister, and of his niece Iseult the Fair. Tenderly had they cherished him of old, and had he taken some wound, they healed him, for they were skilled in balms and potions. But now their magic was vain, for he lay dead and the splinter of the foreign brand yet stood in his skull till Iseult plucked it out and shut it in a chest. From that day Iseult the Fair knew and hated the name of Tristan of Lyonesse. But over in Tintagel Tristan languished, for there trickled a poisonous blood from his wound. The doctors found that the Morholt had thrust into him a poisoned barb, and as their potions and their theriac could never heal him they left him in God’s hands. So hateful a stench came from his wound that all his dearest friends fled him, all save King Mark, Gorvenal and Dinas of Lidan. They always could stay near his couch because their love overcame their abhorrence. At last Tristan had himself carried into a boat apart on the shore; and lying facing the sea he awaited death, for he thought: “I must die; but it is good to see the sun and my heart is still high. I would like to try the sea that brings all chances. … I would have the sea bear me far off alone, to what land no matter, so that it heal me of my wound.” He begged so long that King Mark accepted his desire. He bore him into a boat with neither sail nor oar, and Tristan wished that his harp only should be placed beside him: for sails he could not lift, nor oar ply, nor sword wield; and as a seaman on some long voyage casts to the sea a beloved companion dead, so Gorvenal pushed out to sea that boat where his dear son lay; and the sea drew him away. For seven days and seven nights the sea so drew him; at times to charm his grief, he harped; and when at last the sea brought him near a shore where fishermen had left their port that night to fish far out, they heard as they rowed a sweet and strong and living tune that ran above the sea, and feathering their oars they listened immovable. In the first whiteness of the dawn they saw the boat at large: she went at random and nothing seemed to live in her except the voice of the harp. But as they neared, the air grew weaker and died; and when they hailed her Tristan’s hands had fallen lifeless on the strings though they still trembled. The fishermen took him in and bore him back to port, to their lady who was merciful and perhaps would heal him. It was that same port of Whitehaven where the Morholt lay, and their lady was Iseult the Fair. She alone, being skilled in philtres, could save Tristan, but she alone wished him dead. When Tristan knew himself again (for her art restored him) he knew himself to be in the land of peril. But he was yet strong to hold his own and found good crafty words. He told a tale of how he was a seer that had taken passage on a merchant ship and sailed to Spain to learn the art of reading all the stars,—of how pirates had boarded the ship and of how, though wounded, he had fled into that boat. He was believed, nor did any of the Morholt’s men know his face again, so hardly had the poison used it. But when, after forty days, Iseult of the Golden Hair had all but healed him, when already his limbs had recovered and the grace of youth returned, he knew that he must escape, and he fled and after many dangers he came again before Mark the King. THE QUEST OF THE LADY WITH THE HAIR OF GOLD My lords, there were in the court of King Mark four barons the basest of men, who hated Tristan with a hard hate, for his greatness and for the tender love the King bore him. And well I know their names: Andret, Guenelon, Gondoïne and Denoalen. They knew that the King had intent to grow old childless and to leave his land to Tristan; and their envy swelled and by lies they angered the chief men of Cornwall against Tristan. They said: “There have been too many marvels in this man’s life. It was marvel enough that he beat the Morholt, but by what sorcery did he try the sea alone at the point of death, or which of us, my lords, could voyage without mast or sail? They say that warlocks can. It was sure a warlock feat, and that is a warlock harp of his pours poison daily into the King’s heart. See how he has bent that heart by power and chain of sorcery! He will be king yet, my lords, and you will hold your lands of a wizard.” They brought over the greater part of the barons and these pressed King Mark to take to wife some king’s daughter who should give him an heir, or else they threatened to return each man into his keep and wage him war.

hey knew that the King had intent to grow old childless and to leave his land to Tristan; and their envy swelled and by lies they angered the chief men of Cornwall against Tristan. They said

He was believed, nor did any of the Morholt’s men know his face again, so hardly had the poison used it. But when, after forty days, Iseult of the Golden Hair had all but healed him, when already his limbs had recovered and the grace of youth returned, he knew that he must escape, and he fled and after many dangers he came again before Mark the King.

She alone, being skilled in philtres, could save Tristan, but she alone wished him dead.

It was that same port of Whitehaven where the Morholt lay, and their lady was Iseult the Fair.

He begged so long that King Mark accepted his desire. He bore him into a boat with neither sail nor oar, and Tristan wished that his harp only should be placed beside him: for sails he could not lift, nor oar ply, nor sword wield; and as a seaman on some long voyage casts to the sea a beloved companion dead, so Gorvenal pushed out to sea that boat where his dear son lay; and the sea drew him away.

and as their potions and their theriac could never heal him they left him in God’s hands

But over in Tintagel Tristan languished, for there trickled a poisonous blood from his wound

From that day Iseult the Fair knew and hated the name of Tristan of Lyonesse

King Mark, for the blood ran from his wounds.

till Iseult plucked it out and shut it in a chest.

“My lords of Ireland, the Morholt fought well. See here, my sword is broken and a splinter of it stands fast in his head. Take you that steel, my lords; it is the tribute of Cornwall.”

No man saw the sharp combat; but thrice the salt sea-breeze had wafted or seemed to waft a cry of fury to the land, when at last towards the hour of noon the purple sail showed far off; the Irish boat appeared from the island shore, and there rose a clamour of “the Morholt!” When suddenly, as the boat grew larger on the sight and topped a wave, they saw that Tristan stood on the prow holding a sword in his hand. He leapt ashore, and as the mothers kissed the steel upon his feet he cried to the Morholt’s men:

“Lord King, by your leave I will do battle.”

Now that year this King had sent to Tintagel, to carry his summons, a giant knight; the Morholt, whose sister he had wed, and whom no man had yet been able to overcome: so King Mark had summoned all the barons of his land to Council, by letters sealed.

But two men Rohalt and King Mark of Cornwall nourished me, an orphan, and a wandering boy. So should I call them also fathers

“King Mark, here is your nephew Tristan, son of your sister Blanchefleur and of King Rivalen. Duke Morgan holds his land most wrongfully; it is time such land came back to its lord.”

Very willingly will I serve you, sire, as your harper, your huntsman and your liege.”

“Boy, what do you know of the craft of music?

nd King Mark had marvelled at the good order of the cavalcade, and the cutting of the stag, and the high art of venery in all, yet most he wondered at the stranger boy, and still gazed at him, troubled and wondering whence came his tenderness, and his heart would answer him nothing; but, my lords, it was blood that spoke, and the love he had long since borne his sister Blanchefleur

“Tristan,” said the Master Huntsman, “God reward the father that brought you up so nobly; doubtless he is a baron, rich and strong.”

the quarry turned to bay at a stones throw from Tristan; a huntsman gave him the thrust

The sea rose and cast a dark storm round the ship and drove it eight days and eight nights at random, till the mariners caught through the mist a coast of awful cliffs and sea-ward rocks whereon the sea would have ground their hull to pieces: then they did penance, knowing that the anger of the sea came of the lad, whom they had stolen in an evil hour, and they vowed his deliverance and got ready a boat to put him, if it might be, ashore: then the wind, and sea fell and the sky shone, and as the Norway ship grew small in the offing,

But Rohalt remembering Rivalen and Blanchefleur (of whose youth and grace all this was a resurrection)

and he taught him the various kinds of song and harp-playing, and the hunter’s craft;

Rohalt put Tristan under a good master, the Squire Gorvenal, and Gorvenal taught him in a few years the arts that go with barony.

After she had said these words she kissed him, and immediately when she had kissed him she died.

“Little son, I have longed a while to see you, and now I see you the fairest thing ever a woman bore. In sadness came I hither, in sadness did I bring forth, and in sadness has your first feast day gone. And as by sadness you came into the world, your name shall be called Tristan; that is the child of sadness.”

She did not weep: she made no cry or lamentation, but her limbs failed her and grew weak, and her soul was filled with a strong desire to be rid of the flesh

Then Rivalen manned his ships in haste, and took Blanchefleur with him to his far land; but she was with child.

Mark gave him his sister Blanchefleur,

Mark gave him his sister Blanchefleur,

Long ago, when Mark was King over Cornwall, Rivalen, King of Lyonesse, heard that Mark’s enemies waged war on him; so he crossed the sea to bring him aid;

My lords, if you would hear a high tale of love and of death, here is that of Tristan and Queen Iseult; how to their full joy, but to their sorrow also, they loved each other, and how at last they died of that love together upon one day; she by him and he by her.

In days to come, he contrived to avenge The fall of his prince;

For Hygelac’s son: his hospitality Was mortally rewarded with wounds from a sword.

She had no belief in her son’s ability To defend their homeland against foreign invaders.

Then Beowulf was given bad news, A hard truth: his own home, The best of buildings, had been burnt to a cinder, The throne-room of the Geats.

Bore the brunt of his brutal assaults

Death had come And taken them all in times gone by And the only one left to tell their tale, The last of their line, could look forward to nothing But the same fate for himself: he foresaw that his joy 2240 In the treasure would be brief.

It was desperation on the part of a slave Fleeing the heavy hand of some master, Guilt-ridden and on the run, Going to ground. But he soon began To shake with terror…………..in shock The wretch……………………………. ………………………..panicked and ran Away with the precious…………………. 2230 Metalwork.

And moved him to wrath had never meant to.

Ruthless swordsmen, seasoned campaigners, They came against him and his conquering nation, And with cruel force cut him down So that afterwards

There was something they could have not known at the time, 800 That not blade on earth, no blacksmith’s art Could ever damage their demon opponent.

Unless the burning embrace of fire 780 Engulf it in flame.

Every bone in his body Quailed and coiled, but he could not escape. He was desperate to flee to his den and hide With the devil’s litter

The captain of evil discovered himself In a handgrip harder than anything 750 He had ever encountered in any man

his fate that night Was due to change, his days of ravening Had come to an end.

shadow-stalker, stealthy and swift;

keep in mind your fame,

You killed your own kith and kin, So for all your cleverness and quick tongue, You will suffer damnation in the pits of hell.

I don’t boast when I say That neither you nor Breca ever were much Celebrated for swordsmanship Or for facing danger in the battlefield.

Kept me safe when some ocean creature Pulled me to the bottom. Pinioned fast And swathed in its grip, I was granted one Final chance: my sword plunged And the ordeal was over. Through my own hands The fury of battle had finished off the sea-beast.

But it was mostly beer That was doing the talking.

His boast upon you and was proved right. No matter, therefore, how you may have fared In every bout and battle until now, This time you’ll be worsted; no one has ever Outlasted an entire night against Grendel.”

His sea-braving, made him sick with envy: He could not brook or abide the fact That anyone else alive under heaven Might enjoy greater regard than he did:

“It bothers me to have to burden anyone With all the grief Grendel has caused

I have heard moreover that the monster scorns In his reckless way to use weapons; Therefore, to heighten Hygelac’s fame And gladden his heart, I hereby renounce Sword and the shelter of the broad shield,

Now I mean to be a match for Grendel, Settle the outcome in a single combat.

You are free now to move forward To meet Hrothgar, in helmets and armor, But shields must stay here and spears be stacked Until the outcome of the audience is clear.”

A thane, they declared, with the strength of thirty 380 In the grip of each hand.

This man is their son, Here to follow up an old friendship.

I can show the wise Hrothgar a way To defeat his enemy and find respite— 280 If any respite is to reach him, ever.

A noble warrior name Ecgtheow. He outlasted many a long winter And went on his way. All over the world Wise men in council continue to remember him.

word-hoard

Nor have I seen A mightier man-at-arms on this earth Than the one standing here: unless I am mistaken, He is truly noble.

Whose job it was to guard the sea-cliffs, 230 Saw shields glittering on the gangplank And battle-equipment being unloaded He had to find out who and what The arrivals were

They thanked God For that easy crossing on a calm sea.

Sunlit cliffs, sheer crags

That was their way, Their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts They remembered Hell.

Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed Offering to idols, swore oaths

But the throne itself, the treasure-seat, He was kept from approaching; he was the Lord’s outcast.

So Grendel ruled in defiance of right, One against all, until the greatest house In the world stood empty, a deserted wall stead. For twelve winters, seasons of woe,

Cain’s clan, whom the creator had outlawed And condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel The Eternal Lord had exacted a price: Cain got no good from committing that murder Because the Almighty made him anathema

He was numb with grief, but got no respite

demon’s trail

Greedy and grim, he grabbed thirty men From their resting places and rushed to his lair, Flushed up and inflamed from the raid, Blundering back with the butchered corpses.

Telling with mastery of man’s beginnings, How the Almighty had made the earth A gleaming plain girdled with waters; In His splendour He set the sun and moon To be earth’s lamplight, lanterns for men, And filled the broad lap of the world With branches and leaves; and quickened life In every other thing that moved.

the killer instinct Unleashed among in-laws, the blood-lust rampant. Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark, Nursed a hard grievance.

Its gables wide and high and awaiting A barbarous burning.

The hall of halls. Heorot was the name

They decked his body no less bountifully With offerings than those first ones did Who cast him away when he was a child And launched him alone out over the waves.

A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on

shall take arms therein; but he will be short-lived only.”

Cathbad said a warrior should take arms therein whose name should be over Ireland forever, for deed of valour, and his fame should continue forever.

ote: i.e. it was an insult.] to it; and Cuchulainn said: “I swear by the god by whom the Ulsterme