“Whate’er thou be, thou shalt not carry hence
Unscathed the memory of thine insolence. 
Such jests as thine please not; yet even so
I take thine axe; kneel thou, and take my blow.”

Across the Green Knight’s features there was seen
To pass a fleeting shade of deeper green,
Whether of disappointment or resentment
None knew; but straight a smile of bright contentment
Followed, as through the throng of dazed beholders
He saw Sir Gawayne thrust his sturdy shoulders. 
The stranger winked at Elfinhart once more,
Well pleased, and Gawayne knelt down on the floor. 
“A boon,” he cried, “a boon, my lord and king! 
If ever yet in any little thing
These hands have served thee, hear my last request: 
Let me adventure this mad monster’s jest!”
King Arthur shook his head in dumb denial,
Loth to withdraw his own hand from the trial,
And leave the vengeance that himself had vowed;
But all the people called to him aloud,
“Sir Gawayne! let Sir Gawayne strike the blow!”
And Guinevere, the queen, besought him low
To leave this venture to the lesser man. 
He yielded, and the merry jest began.

The visitor, dismounting, made a bow
To Arthur, then to all the court.  “And now,”
Said he to Gawayne, “wheresoe’er you choose
To strike your blow, strike on; I’ll not refuse;
Head, shoulders, chest, or waist, I little reck;
Where shall it be?” Quoth Gawayne, “In the neck!”

So Gawayne took the axe.  The stranger knelt
Before him on the hearth and loosed his belt,
And threw back his green cassock and his hood,
To give his foe the fairest mark he could. 
Then thus to Gawayne:  “Ready!  But remember
To come the twenty-fifth of next December,
And take from me the self-same stroke again!”
“And where,” asked Gawayne, “may I find you then?”
“We’ll speak of that, please, when you’ve struck your blow;
For if I can’t speak, then you need not go!”
He chuckled softly to himself; then turned
And waited for the blow, all unconcerned.

Not so the knights and ladies of the court;
They pushed and craned their necks to see the sport;
Not from the lust of blood, for few expected
To see blood shed, or the Green Knight dissected,
But knowing that some marvel was in store
Unparalleled in all Arthurian lore,
And fairly filled with wide-eyed wonderment. 
But Lady Elfinhart stayed not.  She went
Into the alcove where we saw her first
And laid her sweet face in her arms, and burst
Into—­but none could tell, unless by peeping,
Whether she shook with laughter or with weeping.