Long time he traveled by an unknown way, Unhoused at night, companionless by day. The cold sleet stung him through his shirt of mail, But, underneath, his stout heart would not fail, But beat full measure through the fiercest storm, And kept his head clear and his brave soul warm. No need to tell the perils that he passed; He conquered all, and came unscathed at last To where a high-embattled castle stood Deep in the heart of a dense willow-wood. And Gawayne called aloud, and to the gate A smiling porter came, who opened straight, And bade him enter in and take his rest; And Gawayne entered, and the people pressed About him with fair speeches; and he laid His armor off, and gave it them, and prayed That they would take his message to their lord,-- prayer for friendly shelter, bed and board. He told them whence he was, his birth and name; And the bold baron of the castle came, A mighty man, huge-limbed, with flashing eyes, And welcomed him with old-time courtesies; For manners, in those days, were held of worth, And gentle breeding went with gentle birth. He heartily was glad his guest had come, And made Sir Gawayne feel himself at home; And as they walked in, side by side, each knew The other for an honest man and true.
That night our hero and the baron ate A sumptuous dinner in the hall of state, And all the household, ranged along the board, Made good cheer with Sir Gawayne and their lord, And passed the brimming bowl right merrily With friendly banter and quick repartee. And Gawayne asked if they had chanced to hear Of a Green Chapel by a Murmuring Mere, And straightway all grew grave. Within his breast Sir Gawayne felt a tremor of unrest, But told his story with a gay outside, And asked for some good man to be his guide To find his foe. "I promise him," said he, "No golden guerdon;--his reward shall be The consciousness that unto him 't was given To show a parting soul the way to heaven!"
Up jumped his host. "My friend, I like your attitude, And know no surer way to win heaven's gratitude Than sending thither just such men as you; I'll be your guide. But since you are not due At the Green Chapel till three nights from now, And since the way is short, I'll tell you how The interim may be disposed of best:-- In short, let me propose a merry jest!" At this Sir Gawayne gave a sudden start, For some old memory seemed to clutch his heart, And in the baron's eyes he seemed to see A twinkling gleam of green benignity Not wholly strange; but like a flash 't was gone. Gawayne sank back, and his good host went on: "Two days you sojourn here, and while I take My daily hunting in the wood, you make My house and castle yours; and then, each night, We'll meet together here at candle-light, And all my winnings in the wood, and all That comes to you at home, whate'er befall, We'll give each other in exchange; in fine, My fortune shall be yours, and yours be mine." To Gawayne this seemed generous indeed. And with most cordial laughter he agreed. They clasped hands o'er the bargain with good zest, And then all said good-night, and went to rest.