When Isolt's accomplice Tristan
had carried her to firm ground
there at the city of Carliun
while doing as she had directed,
he lost no time in departing
from Engeland for Swales
to visit the duke Gilan.
This man was a bachelor,
not only young, but rich as well,
footloose and adventuresome.
He welcomed Tristan heartily,
having already heard
of his many manly exploits
and amazing accomplishments.
He also showed high regard
for Tristan's personal honor,
also his comfort and diversions.
Gilan was anxious to promote
anything that offered promise
of bringing him enjoyment,
and spared no pains to do so,
especially considering
how downcast Tristan remained 
at every hour of the day,
always brooding and sorrowing
over the turn his fate had taken.


One day it came to pass,
while Tristan sat with Gilan,
dwelling on his many troubles
and sighing absentmindedly,
that Gilan, observing his distress,
called his servant to bring him
the little dog Petitcreiu,
his heart's delight from Avalun,
a pleasure to behold.
The servant did as commanded.		15800
A rich, purple coverlet,
exotic and most marvelous,
was laid on the table before them,
which it had been cut to fit.
A small dog was displayed there,
most elegant, as I have heard,
which had been sent to the duke
from Avalun, the magic land,
by a certain goddess
as a token of affection.
This creature was so curiously
endowed in two respects,
its color and magic qualities,
that no tongue was so supple
nor any heart so perceptive
as to be able to describe
its strange beauty or effects.
Its coloration blended
with such unusual art
that no one truly knew
what its hue really was.
Its coat was so variegated
that when regarded from the front,
anyone would declare it
to be whiter than the snow;
the loins, greener than clover,
one side, redder than scarlet,
the other, yellower than saffron,
the underside, like blue sapphire,
from above, such a blending
of beautiful infusions
that no color among them
stood out from the others.
Then it was not green or red,
not white, not black, not yellow or blue, 
and yet some shade of each was there,
a sort of rich, purple luster.
This little marvel from Avalun—
never was there a man so wise
as to comprehend its color,
when seen against its coat's grain.
It was of so many hues
and so entirely confusing
as colors, it seemed, could never be.
Around its tiny neck
it had a chain of gold,
on which hung a bell,
that rang so sweetly and brightly
with every move it made
that Tristan, sorrow's victim,		15850
was relieved of all oppression
and utterly forgot 
all the woe and misery
he had chanced to suffer
on Isolt's behalf.
Anyone who heard
how sweetly the bell sounded
was at once restored
from all sorrows and unease.


Tristan heard and observed
this marvelous miracle,
now paying closer attention
to both the dog and its bell,
regarding each in detail,
the dog with its strange coat,
the bell and its enchanting tinkle.
Each of them astonished him,
and yet, as he considered them,
the secret marvel of the dog
seemed even more wonderful
that the soothing note of the bell,
which sang clearly in his ear,
extinguishing his every care.
What a strange adventure,
that he could see clearly
the deception of his eyes
at this multitude of colors,
no one of which he recognized,
however closely he tried to look.
He reached out carefully
and stroked it with his hand.
It seemed at once to Tristan
that through his fingers was flowing
the most refined Palma silk,
so smooth and soft everywhere.
The dog neither barked nor growled,
showing not the least impatience,
however he petted or handled it.
The story also maintains
that it neither ate nor drank.


When it had been taken away,
all Tristan's pain and sorrow
returned at once, fresh as ever,
indeed with sorrowing still greater.
One thought filled his mind,
blotting out all others.
He began to contemplate
by what chance or means
or some clever plan
he might get possession			15900
of Petitcreiu, the little dog,
for his lady, the queen Isolt,
so that the pain of her yearning
might be magically softened.
However, he could see no way
in which this could be accomplished
by request or calculation,
since he knew very well
that Gilan would never part with it
for anything he had seen,
except, perhaps, to save his life.
This longing and dissatisfaction
lay always deeply in his heart,
but he pretended unconcern.
According to the true story 
of Tristan's brave deeds,
near the borders of Swales
at the time of Tristan's visit
a giant was in residence,
whose name was Urgan li vilus,
very bold and arrogant,
with his lair on the riverbank.
Gilan and his land Swales
were subject to this monster,
required to pay him tribute
to leave the land untroubled
and let its people live in peace.
It was announced in Gilan's court
that the giant Urgan had arrived,
to make his usual demand
that his fee should be collected,
in cattle, sheep, and swine,
which he ordered driven away.
Gilan then began to tell 
the story to his friend Tristan
of how they had been first subjected
to the payment of this tribute
by force of arms and enmity.
"Now tell me, sir," Tristan said,
"if I can absolve you of this
and help you in a short time
to be released from this tax
for as long as you may live,
what will you give me in return?"
"Indeed, sir," Gilan replied,
"I'll give you gladly whatever I have."
Tristan went a little further.
"Sir, assure me of that,
and by whatever means I may,
I will surely help you			15950
to be free of Urgan forever
in a very short time,
or forfeit my life in trying."
"Certainly, sir," Gilan promised,
"I will give you what you ask.
Whatever it is, so shall it be."
He sealed the bargain with his hand.


At once a squire was sent
to bring Tristan his horse and armor.
He requested to be shown
by what path this get of Satan
would be leaving with his plunder.
Tristan was quickly put
on the trail of Urgan,
through a wild, tangled woods,
which adjoined the giant's land
at a place where the booty
was driven back across a bridge.
Giant and gains soon arrived.
But Tristan was ahead of him,
and blocked the herd from passing.
As soon as that wicked monster
saw them balk at the bridge,
he immediately advanced
brandishing a steel bar,
very stout and long,
carrying it high, ready to strike.
When he saw the knight there
in full, splendid armor,
he addressed him discourteously—
"you on the horse, who are you?
Why are you keeping me
and my property from crossing?
By God, just for that,
it's going to cost you your life
unless you surrender to me!"
"They call me Tristan, fellow,"
he on the horse retorted,
"and get this straight—I'm not afraid
of you or that club of yours,
not half a bean's worth.
So get out of here, right now.
And you'd better get this straight, too—
what you stole goes no further
than where I put a stop to it."
"Ah, Sir Tristan," sneered the giant.
You're proud of having stood up
to Morolt the Irlanter—
that fight you picked with him
was completely illegal.			16000
You started it over nothing,
and then killed him to show off.
Well, it's not at all the same
with me as with that Gandin
you made a fool of with your tunes
and then took away his beauty,
that pretty little flower, Isolt,
that he was ready to fight for.
No, I live here on this river bank,
and my name is Urgan li vilus.
So now get out of my way!"
With this he began to take
two-handed measure
for a mighty throw and a slice
aimed in Tristan's direction,
a long and strong swipe indeed.
As the aiming point for his release
he had set his sights
point-blank on Tristan's life,
so if he hit the bull's-eye,
that would be the end of him.
As he wound up for his throw
with his huge steel pole,
Tristan had begun to dodge,
but he didn't move quickly enough
to keep the shot from cutting his horse
right in two, ahead of the croup.
The huge giant gave a shout
and called laughingly to his target,
"God help you now, Sir Tristan!
Don't be hasty to ride away—
kindly wait a moment for me
so I can humbly plead with you
to let me keep my landholdings
honorably, with your permission,
for some time yet to come!"
With his mount cut in half,
Tristan landed on the grass.
He counterattacked with his spear,
scoring a hit on his enemy,
wounding the fiendish Urgan
severely in one eye.
At this the ungainly giant
broke away and made all speed
toward where the pole, his weapon, lay.
Tristan had already thrown
his spear aside, and now charged
at top speed with his sword.
As the giant reached for his rod,
Tristan struck, with true aim,		16050
cutting off the giant's hand
that he put out to grasp his weapon
so that it landed on the ground.
Then he gave him another thrust
into the thigh, and withdrew.
Urgan, wounded as he was,
reached down with his left hand,
snatching up his fallen pole,
with which he rushed at his opponent.
He pursued the dodging Tristan
all around under the trees,
through many a perilous twist and turn.
This caused the flow of gore
to come so freely from Urgan's wounds
that this satanic adversary
began to realize the danger
from such a loss of blood,
that it would not be very long
before his strength and courage ebbed.
Leaving knight and cattle there,
he picked up the severed hand
and beat a hasty retreat
back into his own fortress.


Tristan stood there in the forest,
alone with the stolen cattle.
He was more than a little alarmed
at Urgan's having escaped alive.
He sat down there on the grass
to consider the implications,
with one concern uppermost,
that he had nothing to show
what he had accomplished
except the tribute of cattle.
All the risk and exertions
he had put into getting them
would not have helped him one bit
if Gilan should perhaps decide
not to honor the agreement
they had settled on between them.
So he returned to the fray,
following carefully the trail
that Urgan had left in retreat,
where the ground and the grass
were all stained with blood.
Reaching Urgan's stronghold,
He reconnoitered cautiously
to discover where Urgan was.
But he did not find him there,
nor any other living thing.
The severely wounded giant,			16100
as the story tells it,
had left his severed hand
on a table in his hall,
while he had gone from his castle
down the mountain to dig herbs
which he required for his hurts,
understanding well their powers
for aiding his recovery.
It was his intention,
that if, by sciences knew,
he could reattach the hand
in time, before it had reached the point
of being irretrievably dead,
he would have come through
with the hand and one eye.
But this was not to be,
for Tristan, hot on his trail,
discovered the hand lying there.
With nothing to prevent him,
he took it with him, and went back
by the same way he had come.
Urgan, returning, realized
that the hand was gone for good.
In great pain and fury
he threw down his remedies
and went in pursuit of Tristan.


Having recrossed the bridge,
Tristan clearly perceived
that the giant was coming after him.
He quickly took the hand
and hid it beneath a stump.
Now he had good cause to fear
this huge and frightening man,
for there could be no doubt
that one of them would die,
either he or the giant.
He turned back toward the bridge
to take him at spearpoint,
but broke the spear with his thrust.
No sooner had he made his stroke
that his adversary was upon him.
Urgan with his mighty shaft
lunged at him and struck.
Had the blow not overshot,
it would have been the end of him,
even if he were solid bronze.
The only thing that saved him
was Urgan's over-eagerness.
Because he charged in too close,
the main force of his swing			16150
had landed well beyond its target.
Before the ungainly man
could get his club back in position,
Tristan, with a quick feint,
aimed a stroke at his eye.
It went home, straight and true,
through the only eye the giant had.
Urgan flailed wildly about
as one blinded can but do.
He launched blows in all directions
while Tristan stood well aside,
leaving him to thrash about
with his remaining left hand.
In his frenzy he came near
the outer edge of the bridge.
Tristan made a desperate rush,
putting all his strength and skill
into this deed of arms.
With all his speed and weight,
he used both hand to tip the brute
off the bridge into the chasm.
Down he went, far down,
until his ungainly bulk
shattered on the rocks below.


With another victory
to his credit, Tristan went
and retrieved Urgan's hand.
On his return, he met Gilan,
the duke, riding out to meet him,
who anxiously regretted
that Tristan should have dared
to undertake this exploit,
which it seemed most unlikely
he could survive, as he survived.
Seeing his friend approach on foot,
Gilan hailed him in relief.
"A bien venjanz, gentil Tristan!"
Lucky man, tell me all—
how did it go?  Are you all right?"
As reply, Tristan showed him
the dead hand of the giant,
then told him the whole story
of the fortunate outcome
crowning his adventure,
at which Gilan was delighted.
They rode together back to the bridge,
and found there the evidence
of what Tristan had told,
the remains of Urgan,
at which they greatly marvelled.		16200
Then they retraced their steps,
driving the recovered cattle
cheerfully home to their land.


Report of this accomplishment
spread throughout the land of Swales.
Everyone, everywhere,
sang Tristan's praises and honor,
such that no manly exploit
was ever more highly regarded
in that country, before or since.
Now when Gilan and Tristan,
proven winner that he was,
had returned to Gilan's dwelling,
they reviewed once more
the story of their accomplishments.
Then Tristan, the wonder-worker,
put his case to the duke.
"My Lord Duke, be mindful
of your pledge and assurance
as we had agreed upon
and as you promised me."
"Sir, I am," Gilan replied,
"and that gladly.  Now say,
what do you wish, or desire?"
—"Gilan, Sir, I enjoin you,
give me the dog Petitcreiu."
"Take something better," Gilan said.
"What would that be?" Tristan asked.
—"Leave my little dog to me,
and have instead my lovely sister,
plus the half of all I own."
—"No, My Lord Duke Gilan,
be now mindful of your word.
Not all the wealth of all lands
would I take in substitution
if given the choice of doing so.
I killed Urgan li vilus,
for no reward but Petitcreiu."
—"In truth, then, Sir Tristan,
if that is what you would prefer
to all else I have offered you,
then I will hold to my word
and do as you desire.
Never will I cheat
or try to deceive.
However unwillingly,
what you request, that shall I do."
With this he sent to have the dog
brought before himself and Tristan.
"You see, sir, I tell you now—			16250
upon my word and oath,
and hope for salvation,
that nothing in my possession
or anything I more cherish,
except my honor and my life,
would I give you more gladly
than my little dog Petitcreiu.
Take him.  He is yours.
God grant he give you pleasure,
even though you have taken from me
the delight of my eyes
and the joy of my heart."

Once Tristan had the little dog
firmly in his possession,
truly, Rome and all its riches,
or lands whatever across what seas,
none of the world's treasures
would he have valued as its equal.
And yet his heart knew no joy
except in the presence of Isolt.
He took into his confidence
a minstrel from Gales,
a man skilled and wise,
accomplished and perceptive.
He began to instruct him
in how to bring the queen,
Isolt the most lovely,
some degree of joy.
He used this countryman's rote
in which to conceal the tiny dog,
then wrote letters to send along,
telling her where and with what labor
he had acquired it for her.
The minstrel, also told of this,
and given other exact instructions,
then set out on his way
and finally arrived in Tintajel,
at the castle of King Marke,
without having suffered
any mishaps or difficulty.
He went and found Brangaene,
delivering the dog and letters,
which she in turn gave to Isolt.


The queen carefully examined
this miraculous marvel
in every aspect and detail
of the houndlet and its enchantments.
At once she rewarded the minstrel
in payment for his services
ten marks of fine gold.			16300
She also wrote and sent
letters entreating Tristan
in the most earnest terms,
since now her lord, Marke,
esteemed him as before,
and did not hold any
of recent events against him,
that he should by all means come—
she had settled everything.
Tristan did as he was asked,
returning home once again.
King and court, land and people,
honored him again, as before,
now even more highly
that earlier at court,
except that Marjodoc's respects
did not come from his heart,
as was also the case with Melot.
In the honors paid him
by these former enemies
there was very little honor.


I hear the chorus asking
if it's all done in sham,
is that honor, or is it not?
No, I answer, and also yes.
No and yes both are in it.
No to him who renders it,
yes for him who receives it.
Both answers are in both acts—
you can find there yes and no.
What more can I say to that?
It's honor without honor.

Now Isolt the queen
told her lord that her mother,
the sagacious queen of Irlant,
had sent her the little dog.
She put her artisans to work,
who used precious materials,
only the most select
jewelry and fine gold,
to make a charming little house,
which was carpeted inside
with a silken pad for it to lie on.
This display, day and night,
both in company and solitude,
delighted Isolt's gaze.
It became her steady custom
to keep it always in her sight,
wherever she stayed or traveled.
It was always taken along		16350
so that she could keep it in view,
but not for the comfort it afforded.
The story tells that she did it
to keep her yearning always fresh
for her beloved Tristan,
who sent it to her for love.
She took no solace from it,
nor was it her source of respite.
The moment the steadfast queen
for the first time laid eyes on
the strange little creature
and heard the tinkle of its bell
which caused her to forget all cares,
the first thing she thought of
was how her lover Tristan
suffered because of her.


At once she reproached herself—
"ah, alas, if I take pleasure,
what unfaithfulness is this?
How shall I have enjoyment
for any hour, any moment,
while he bears woe because of me,
he who has sacrificed
all joy and life on my account?
How can I rejoice without him,
I, who am his joy and sorrow?
What reason could I have to laugh
the while his very heart
can know not the least comfort
unless my heart share it?
He has no life apart from mine—
how shall I live without him,
in pleasure and joyfulness
while he must suffer sadness?
May the good Lord forbid
that in my heart and mind
I know pleasure he cannot share!"
With this she broke the bell off,
leaving the chain in place.
This caused the bell to lose
all its magic soothing power.
Now it no longer sounded
with the same effect as before.
It is said that never again,
no matter how closely one listened,
did it ever alleviate
the heaviness of any heart.
This did not concern Isolt—
she did not want to be happy,
remaining loyal in her yearning,	16400
having devoted life and joy
to Tristan and longing.