This Sir Gawain beheld, and he deemed 'twere shame an he avenged not her
wrong. He looked before and behind and saw no bridge, great or small, by
which he might cross over, nor saw he living soul of whom he might ask,
then did he delay no longer, but turned his bridle, and set his horse
toward the river bank; he struck his spurs sharply and sprang into the
midst of the stream. The good steed breasted the current, swimming as
best it might and brought its master to the further side. 'Twas great
marvel that they were not drowned, horse and man, for the river was
deep, and the stream ran swiftly.

When Sir Gawain came to the other side of the river, which was both wide
and deep, then saw he a great company of folk riding after the knight
who bare away the maiden by force, and thus misused her, but he wist not
if it was to aid the knight that they thus followed him, or to wreak
vengeance on him. He saw many men clad in hauberks, but they were as yet
a good mile distant. Sir Gawain rode swiftly after the maiden who went
afore, whom the knight thus mishandled, to avenge her wrong; and as he
drew near so that she might see him, she smote her hands together more
than before, and cried to Gawain, "Noble knight, for the honour of
womanhood, save me! This knight doeth me undeserved shame. Did there
come hither any friend of God who would help me in this my need, an he
had slain his own father it should be forgiven him!"

Her prayers and entreaties, her tears and lamentations, would have
stirred any man to pity; she cried upon Sir Gawain as he came riding
into the plain, to come to her aid and fell the knight's pride. As Sir
Gawain heard her his heart was rent with sorrow and compassion and he
spake to that evil knight: "Sir Knight, 'tis folly and discourtesy that
which ye do to this maiden; were ye wise ye would forbear; even had the
maiden wronged ye, ye should deal courteously; he hath small honour who