More strange things in Albion... Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

For the past forty-something years I have read a bit of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight before Christmas, especially the beginning, which is set during a Christmas feast at Arthur's court - I have pasted the first three verses below.

I particularly love the references to Britain/ Albion:

Felix Brutus establishes Britain joyfully on many broad banks, where war and waste and wonders by turns have since dwelt, and many a swift interchange of bliss and woe.... More strange things have happened in this land since these days than in any other that I know.

On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settez

wyth wynne,

Where werre and wrake and wonder

Bi syþez hatz wont þerinne,

And oft boþe blysse and blunder

Ful skete hatz skyfted synne...

Mo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft

Þen in any oþer þat I wot, syn þat ilk tyme.

And the pentangle symbol:

Then they showed him the shield, that was of sheer gules, with the pentangle painted in pure gold. He took it by the baldric and cast it about his neck; and it became the hero passing fair. And why the pentangle pertains to that noble prince I mean to tell you, though it should delay me. It is a sign that Solomon set formerly as a token of truth, by its own right, for it is a figure that holds five points, and each line overlaps and locks in another; and throughout it is endless; and the English call it everywhere, as I hear, the endless knot. Therefore it suits this knight and his clear arms, forever faithful in five things, and in each of them five ways. Gawain was known for good and as refined gold, devoid of every villainy, adorned with virtues. Therefore, the new pentangle he bore on shield and coat, as the man most true of speech, and the knight gentlest of behaviour.

Then þay schewed hym þe schelde, þat was of schyr goule3,
Wyth þe pentangel de-paynt of pure golde hwe3;
He brayde3 hit by þe baude-ryk, aboute þe hals kestes,
Þat bisemed þe segge semlyly fayre.
& quy þe pentangel apende3 to þat prynce noble,
I am in tent yow to telle, þof tary hyt me schulde;
Hit is a syngne þat Salamon set sum-quyle,
In bytoknyng of trawþe, bi tytle þat hit habbe3,
For hit is a figure þat halde3 fyue poynte3,
& vche lyne vmbe-lappe3 & louke3 in oþer,
& ay quere hit is endele3,& Englych hit callen
Ouer-al, as I here, þe endeles knot.
For-þy hit acorde3 to þis kny3t, & to his cler arme3,
For ay faythful in fyue & sere fyue syþe3,
Gawan wat3 for gode knawen, & as golde pured,
Voyded of vche vylany, wyth vertue3 ennourned

in mote;

For-þy þe pen-tangel nwe

He ber in schelde & cote,

As tulk of tale most trwe,

& gentylest kny3t of lote.

FYTTE THE FIRST

After the siege and the assault had ceased at Troy, the city been destroyed and burned to brands and ashes, the warrior who wrought there the trains of treason was tried for his treachery, the truest on earth.

This was Aeneas the noble; he and his high kindred afterwards conquered provinces, and became patrons of well nigh all the wealth in the West Isles. As soon as rich Romulus turns him to Rome, with great pride he at once builds that city, and names it with his own name, which it now has; Ticius turns to Tuscany and founds dwellings; Longobard raises homes in Lombardy; and, far over the French flood, Felix Brutus establishes Britain joyfully on many broad banks, where war and waste and wonders by turns have since dwelt, and many a swift interchange of bliss and woe.

And when this Britain was founded by this great hero, bold men loving strife bred therein, and many a time they wrought destruction. More strange things have happened in this land since these days than in any other that I know, but of all the British kings that built here, Arthur was ever the most courteous, as I have heard tell. Therefore, I mean to tell of an adventure in the world, which some count strange and extraordinary even among the wonders of Arthur. If ye will listen to this lay but a little while, I will tell it forthright as I heard it told in town, as it is set down in story that cannot be changed, long written in the land in true words.

This King lay royally at Camelot at Christmas tide with many fine lords, the best of men, all the rich brethren of the Round Table, with right rich revel and careless mirth. There full many heroes tourneyed betimes, jousted full gaily; then returned these gentle knights to the court to make carols. For there the feast was held full fifteen days alike with all the meat and the mirth that men could devise. Such a merry tumult, glorious to hear; joyful din by day, dancing at night. All was high joy in halls and chambers with lords and ladies as pleased them best. With all the weal in the world they dwelt there together, the most famous knights save only Christ, the loveliest ladies that ever had life, and he, the comeliest of kings, who holds the court. For all this fair company were in their prime in the hall, the happiest troop under heaven with the proudest of kings. Truly it would be hard to name anywhere so brave a band.

Translated by WE Neilson 

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SIÞEN þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye,

Þe bor3 brittened and brent to brondez and askez,

Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wro3t

Watz tried for his tricherie, þe trewest on erþe:

Hit watz Ennias þe athel, and his highe kynde,

Þat siþen depreced prouinces, and patrounes bicome

Welne3e of al þe wele in þe west iles.

Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyþe,

With gret bobbaunce þat bur3e he biges vpon fyrst,

And neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat;

Tirius to Tuskan and teldes bigynnes,

Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes,

And fer ouer þe French flod Felix Brutus

On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settez

wyth wynne,

Where werre and wrake and wonder

Bi syþez hatz wont þerinne,

And oft boþe blysse and blunder

Ful skete hatz skyfted synne.

          

Ande quen þis Bretayn watz bigged bi þis burn rych,

Bolde bredden þerinne, baret þat lofden,

In mony turned tyme tene þat wro3ten.

Mo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft

Þen in any oþer þat I wot, syn þat ilk tyme.

Bot of alle þat here bult, of Bretaygne kynges,

Ay watz Arthur þe hendest, as I haf herde telle.

Forþi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,

Þat a selly in si3t summe men hit holden,

And an outtrage awenture of Arthurez wonderez.

If 3e wyl lysten þis laye bot on littel quile,

I schal telle hit as-tit, as I in toun herde,

with tonge,

As hit is stad and stoken

In stori stif and stronge,

With lel letteres loken,

In londe so hatz ben longe.

          

Þis kyng lay at Camylot vpon Krystmasse

With mony luflych lorde, ledez of þe best,

Rekenly of þe Rounde Table alle þo rich breþer,

With rych reuel ory3t and rechles merþes.

Þer tournayed tulkes by tymez ful mony,

Justed ful jolilé þise gentyle kni3tes,

Syþen kayred to þe court caroles to make.

For þer þe fest watz ilyche ful fiften dayes,

With alle þe mete and þe mirþe þat men couþe avyse;

Such glaum ande gle glorious to here,

Dere dyn vpon day, daunsyng on ny3tes,

Al watz hap vpon he3e in hallez and chambrez

With lordez and ladies, as leuest him þo3t.

With all þe wele of þe worlde þay woned þer samen,

Þe most kyd kny3tez vnder Krystes seluen,

And þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden,

And he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes;

For al watz þis fayre folk in her first age,

on sille,

Þe hapnest vnder heuen,

Kyng hy3est mon of wylle;

Hit were now gret nye to neuen

So hardy a here on hille.