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And so bifel, that, longe er it were day, This man mette in his bed, ther-as he lay, How that his felawe gan upon him calle, And seyde, ‘allas! for in an oxes stalle This night I shal be mordred ther I lye. Now help me, dere brother, er I dye; In alle haste com to me,’ he sayde. This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde; But whan that he was wakned of his sleep, He turned him, and took of this no keep; Him thoughte his dreem nas but a vanitee. Thus twyës in his sleping dremed he. And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe Cam, as him thoughte, and seide, ‘I am now slawe; Bihold my blody woundes, depe and wyde! Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde, And at the west gate of the toun,’ quod he, ‘A carte ful of donge ther shaltow see, In which my body is hid ful prively; Do thilke carte aresten boldely. My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn;’ And tolde him every poynt how he was slayn, With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe. And truste wel, his dreem he fond ful trewe; For on the morwe, as sone as it was day, To his felawes in he took the way; And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle, After his felawe he bigan to calle. And so bifel, that, longe er it were day, This man mette in his bed, ther-as he lay, How that his felawe gan upon him calle, And seyde, ‘allas! for in an oxes stalle This night I shal be mordred ther I lye. Now help me, dere brother, er I dye; In alle haste com to me,’ he sayde. This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde; But whan that he was wakned of his sleep, He turned him, and took of this no keep; Him thoughte his dreem nas but a vanitee. Thus twyës in his sleping dremed he. And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe Cam, as him thoughte, and seide, ‘I am now slawe; Bihold my blody woundes, depe and wyde! Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde, And at the west gate of the toun,’ quod he, ‘A carte ful of donge ther shaltow see, In which my body is hid ful prively; Do thilke carte aresten boldely. My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn;’ And tolde him every poynt how he was slayn, With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe. And truste wel, his dreem he fond ful trewe; For on the morwe, as sone as it was day, To his felawes in he took the way; And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle, After his felawe he bigan to calle.

Original Text

Modern Text

And so bifel, that, longe er it were day, This man mette in his bed, ther-as he lay, How that his felawe gan upon him calle, And seyde, ‘allas! for in an oxes stalle This night I shal be mordred ther I lye. Now help me, dere brother, er I dye; In alle haste com to me,’ he sayde. This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde; But whan that he was wakned of his sleep, He turned him, and took of this no keep; Him thoughte his dreem nas but a vanitee. Thus twyës in his sleping dremed he. And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe Cam, as him thoughte, and seide, ‘I am now slawe; Bihold my blody woundes, depe and wyde! Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde, And at the west gate of the toun,’ quod he, ‘A carte ful of donge ther shaltow see, In which my body is hid ful prively; Do thilke carte aresten boldely. My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn;’ And tolde him every poynt how he was slayn, With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe. And truste wel, his dreem he fond ful trewe; For on the morwe, as sone as it was day, To his felawes in he took the way; And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle, After his felawe he bigan to calle. And so bifel, that, longe er it were day, This man mette in his bed, ther-as he lay, How that his felawe gan upon him calle, And seyde, ‘allas! for in an oxes stalle This night I shal be mordred ther I lye. Now help me, dere brother, er I dye; In alle haste com to me,’ he sayde. This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde; But whan that he was wakned of his sleep, He turned him, and took of this no keep; Him thoughte his dreem nas but a vanitee. Thus twyës in his sleping dremed he. And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe Cam, as him thoughte, and seide, ‘I am now slawe; Bihold my blody woundes, depe and wyde! Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde, And at the west gate of the toun,’ quod he, ‘A carte ful of donge ther shaltow see, In which my body is hid ful prively; Do thilke carte aresten boldely. My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn;’ And tolde him every poynt how he was slayn, With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe. And truste wel, his dreem he fond ful trewe; For on the morwe, as sone as it was day, To his felawes in he took the way; And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle, After his felawe he bigan to calle.
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