Le chevaler dunt jeo vus di,
Que tant aveit le rei servi,
Un jur munta sur sun destrer,
Si s'est alez esbaneer.
Fors de la vilë est eissuz,
Tut sul est en un pre venuz;
Sur une ewe curaunt descent;
Mes sis cheval tremble forment:
Il le descengle, si s'en vait,
En mit le pre vuiltrer le lait.
Le pan de sun mantel plia,
Desuz sun chief puis le cucha.
Mut est pensis pur sa mesaise,
Il ne veit chose ke li plaise.
La u il gist en teu maniere,
Garda aval lez la riviere,
[Si] vit venir deus dameiseles,
Unc n'en ot veü[es] plus beles.
Vestues ierent richement,
Lacieees mut estreitement
En deus blians de purpre bis;
Mut par aveient bel le vis.
L'eisnee portout une tuaile.
Eles s'en sunt alees dreit
La u li chevaler giseit.
Lanval, que mut fu enseigniez,
Cuntre eles s'en levad en piez.
Celes l'unt primes salué,
Lur message li unt cunté:
'Sire Lanval, ma dameisele,
Que tant est pruz e sage e bele,
Ele nus enveie pur vus;
Kar i venez ensemble od nus!
Sauvement vus i cundurums.
Veez, pres est li paveilluns!'
Li chevalers od eles vait;
De sun cheval ne tient nul plait,
Que devant lui pesseit al pre.
Treskë al tref l'unt amené,
Que mut fu beaus e bien asis.
La reïne Semiramis,
Quant ele ot unkes plus aveir
E plus pussaunce e plus saveir,
Ne l'emperere Octovïen
N'esliagasent le destre pan.
Un aigle d'or ot desus mis;
De cel ne sai dire le pris,
Ne des cordes ne des peissuns
Que del tref tienent les giruns;
Suz ciel n'ad rei ki[s] esligast
Pur nul aver k'il i donast.
Dedenz cel tref fu la pucele:
Flur de lis [e] rose nuvele,
Quant ele pert al tens d'esté,
Trespassot ele de beauté.
Ele jut sur un lit mut bel—
Li drap valeient un chastel—
En sa chemise senglement.
Mut ot le cors bien fait e gent;
Un cher mantel de blanc hermine,
Covert de purpre alexandrine,
Ot pur le chaut sur li geté;
Tut ot descovert le costé,
Le vis, le col e la peitrine;
Plus ert blance que flur d'espine.
Le chevaler avant ala,
E la pucele l'apela.
Il s'est devant le lit asis.
'Lanval,' fet ele, 'beus amis,
Pur vus vienc jeo fors de ma tere;
De luinz vus sui venu[e] quere.
Se vus estes pruz e curteis,
Emperere ne quens ne reis
N'ot unkes tant joie ne bien;
Kar jo vus aim sur tute rien.'
Il l'esgarda, si la vit bele;
Amurs le puint de l'estencele,
Que sun quor alume e esprent.
Il li respunt avenantment.
'Bele,' fet il, 'si vus pleiseit
E cele joie me aveneit
Que vus me vouissez amer,
Ne savrïez rien commander
Que jeo ne face a mien poeir,
Turt a folie u a saveir.
Jeo f[e]rai voz comandemenz,
Pur vus guerpirai tutes genz.
Jamés ne queor de vus partir:
Ceo est la rien que plus desir.'
Quant la meschine oï parler
Celui que tant la peot amer,
S'amur e sun cors li otreie.
Ore est Lanval en dreite veie!

This knight--by now you know the one--
Who'd served the King with many a deed,
One day got on his noble steed
And went riding, just for fun.
Alone he rode out of the town,
And came to a meadow--still alone--
Dismounted by a flowing brook.
But his horse trembled now and shook,
So he took off the tackle and let him go,
Rolling free in the broad meadow.
The knight took his own cloak, folded
It into a pillow for his head.
He lay thinking of his sad plight;
He saw nothing to bring delight.
He lay thus, in a kind of daze,
Following the river-bank with his gaze.
Then he saw coming two ladies,
The fairest he'd seen in all his days.
They were both quite richly dressed,
In deep-dyed tunics, of the best
Silk, fastened with tight-tied laces;
And very lovely were their faces.
A bowl was borne by the elder maid,
Golden, delicate, finely made
(I tell the truth without fail or foul)
--The younger maiden carried a towel.
These two ladies came straightaway
To the place where Lanval lay.
Lanval, mannerly, well-bred,
Quickly scrambled to his feet;
The ladies spoke, first to greet
Him, then with a message. They said,
"Lord Lanval, the lady we owe duty--
A lady of valor, wisdom, beauty--
It's for you our lady has sent
Us. Now come along with us, do!
Safely we'll conduct you through--
Not far--look, you can see her tent!"
The knight went with them, of course;
He forgot all about his horse,
Grazing in the meadow right in front of him.
They brought him where a tent rose above him,
A lovely, well-placed pavilion.
Semiramis, Queen of Babylon,
When her power was on the rise,
And she was so rich as well as so wise,
Or Octavian, who ruled the whole map,
Couldn't have paid for one tent-flap.
On top was set an eagle, pure gold;
How much it cost, more or less--
Or the cords or the poles to hold
Up the tent walls--I couldn't guess.
No King under heaven, with all his wealth,
Could ever buy any of this for himself.
This tent was the maiden's bower:
New-blown rose, lily-flower,
When in Spring their petals unfurl--
Lovelier than these was this girl.
She lay upon so rich a bed,
You'd pay a castle for the sheet--
In just her slip she was clothèd.
Her body was well-shaped, and sweet.
A rich mantle of white ermine,
Lined with silk, alexandrine,
Was her quilt, but she'd pushed it away,
On account of the heat; she didn't hide
Her face, neck, breast, her whole side,
All whiter than hawthorn blossom in May.
The knight took a step toward
The maiden; she called him forward;
Near the bed he sat down, near.
"Lanval," she said, "my friend, my dear,
I left my lands to come where you are;
To find you I have come so far!
Be valiant and courtly in everything,
And no emperor, count or king
Ever had joy or blessings above you;
For, more than any thing, I love you."
He looks at her; he sees her beauty;
Love pricks him, strikes in him the spark--
Now his heart blazes in the dark.
He answers gently, as is his duty,
"Beauty," he says, "If it please you,
And this great joy should befall
Me, that you grant your love,
I'll be at your beck and call,
To fulfill whatever needs you
Have, wise or foolish--you are above
Me, my only commandant.
All others for you I abandon.
From you I never want to part:
That hope is strongest in my heart."
When the girl hears what he has to say,
This man so filled with love for her,
She gives him her love, and what's more, her
Body; now Lanval is on his way!