.^aK ST... HDSF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY &2\ T25 Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. A charge is made on all overdue books. U. of I. Library 13 Nov'35 FEB "bl^ MAY -r36 DFC 2C'36 ilAR Ull m 14 '31 MfiY i 6'38 Mfly3r3c DEC 2y m -5 jEC V^ 133'; JAN 18 FEB ■4 JJRN 29 1940 bEC -*J IB40 JAd 2V 134 MfiY 13 194 58 JUL - ^M tj^Z mi] on THE COMPLETE WORKS ALFRED TJINNYSON, IKCKKDINQ * THE DRAMAS QUEEN MARY" AND " HAROLD,' ' And all the Ballads aitd Posms. COMPLETE VOL. II. H u, mWrnrry Of ILL CHICAGO: DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY &. CO., 407-425 Dearborn St. I INDEX— Vol. IT. KThe Higher Pantheism 291 ^Sone : " Flower in the crannied ^ wall," 291 Literary Squabbles 291 Idyls oi the King Dedication 292 The Coming of Arthur 293 Gareth and Lynette 300 Geraint and Enid 325« rf)e Prof undis : The First Quarrel 583 iJlizpah 585 The Northern Cobbler 587 The Sisters 589 The Village Wife ; or,' The Eiitail 594 In the Children't< Hospital 597 Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham. 598 Columbus 602 The Voyage of Maeldune 606 Merlin and Vivien 355 -^xnc xw»j vjicchj Lancelot and Elaine 369j The Human Cry The Holy Grail 393' Pelleas and Ettarre 409 The Last Tournajja^nt 419 - With what sublime repression of him- self. And in what limits, and how tenderly ; Not swaying to this faction or to that ; Not making his high place the lawless perch Of wing'd ambitions, nor a vantage- ground For pleasure ; but thro' all this tract of years Wearing the white flower of a blame- less life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne. And blackens every blot : for where is he, Who dares foreshadow for an only son A lovelier life, a more unstain'd, than his? Or how should England dreaming of his sons Hope more for these than some inher- itance Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine, Thou noble Father of her Kings to be, Laborious for her people and her poor — Voice in the rich dawn of an ampler day- Far-sighted summoner of War and Waste To fruitful strifes and rivalries of peace- Sweet nature gilded by the gracious gleam Of letters, dear to Science, dear to Art, Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince in- deed, Beyond all titles, and a household name. Hereafter, thro' all times, Albert the Good. Break not, O woman's-heart, but still endure ; Break not, for thou art Royal, but en« dure. Remembering all the beauty of that star Which shone so close beside Thee, that ye made One light together, but has past and leaves The Crown a lonely splendor. THE COMING May all love, His love, unseen but felt, o'ershadow Thee, The love of all Thy sons encompass Thee, The love of all Thy daughter* cherish Thee, The love of all Thy people comfort Thee, Till God's iove set Thee at his side again ! THE COMING OF ARTHUR. Leodogran, the King of Cameliard, Had one fair daughter, and none other child ; And she was fairest of all flesh on earth, Guinevere, and in her his one delight. For many a petty king ere Arthur came Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war Each upon other, wasted all the land ; And still from time to time the heathen host Swarm'd overseas, and harried what was left. And so there grew great tracts of wil- derness, Wherein the beast was ever more and more, Bat man was less and less, till Arthur came. For first Aurelius lived and fought and died. And after him King Uther fought and died. But either fail'^ to make the kingdom one. And after these King Arthur for a space And thro' the puissance of his Table Round, Drew all their petty princedoms under him, Their king and head, and made a realm, and reign'd. And thus the land of Cameliard was waste, Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein. OF ARTHUR, 293 And none or few to scare or chase the beast ; So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear Came night and day, and rooted in the fields. And wallowed in the gardens of the king. And ever and anon the wolf would steal The children and devour, but now and then, Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat To human sucklings ; and the children, housed In her foul den, there at their meat would growl, And mock their foster-mother on four feet, Till, straighten'd, they grew up to wolf* like men, Worse than the wolves. And King Leodogran Groan'd for the Roman legions here again, And Cesar's eagle : then his brother king, Rience, assail' d him : last a heathen horde. Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood. And on the spike that split the moth- er's heart Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed, He knew not whither he should turn for aid. But^for he heard of Arthur newly crown'd, Tho' not without an uproar made by those Who cried, " He is not Uther' s son " — the king Sent to him, saying, Arise, and help us thou ! For here between the man and beast we die." And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms, But heard the call, and came : and Guinevere Stood by the castle walla to watch him pass ; '294 THE COMma OF ARTHUR, But since he neither wore on helm or shield The golden symbol of his kinglihood, But rode a simple knight among his knights, And many of these in richer arms than he, She saw him not, or mark'd not, if she saw. One among many, tho' his face was bare. But Arthur, looking downward as he past. Felt the light of her eyes into his life Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitch'd His tents beside the forest. And he drave The heathen, and he slew the beast, and fell'd The forest, and let in the sun, and made Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight ; And so return' d. For while he linger'd there, A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm Flash'd forth and into war : for most of these Made head against him, crying, Who is he That he should rule us? who hath proven him, King Uther's son ? for lo ! we look at him And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice. Are like to those of Uther whom we knew. This is the son of Gorloi's, not the king ; This is the son of Anton, not the king." And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt Travail, and throes and agonies of the life, Desiring to be join'd with Guinevere ; And thinking as he rode, Her father said That there between the men and beast they die. Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts Up to my throne, and side by side with me ? What happiness to reign a lonely king, Vext— O ye stars that shudder over me, 0 earth that soundest hollow under me, Vext with waste dreams ? for saving I be join'd To her that is the fairest under heaven, 1 seem as nothing in the mighty world, And cannot will my will, nor work my work Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm Victor and lord. But were I join'd with her. Then might we live together as one life, And reigning with one will in every- thing Have power on this dark land to light- en it. And power on this dead world to make it live." And Arthur from the field of battle sent Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere, His new-made knights, to King Leo- dogran, Saying, "If I in aught have served thee well, Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife." Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heart Debating — How should I that am a king. However much he holp me at my need, Give my one daughter saving to a king, And a king's son " — lifted his voice, and call'd A hoary man, his chamberlain, to whom He trusted all things, and of him re- quired His counsel : " Knowest thou aught of Ai^thur's birth ? " Then spake the hoary chamberlain and said, THE COMING Sir king, there be but two old men that know : And each is twice as old as I ; and one Is Merlin, the wise man that ever served King Cither thro' his magic art ; and one Is Merlin's master (so they call him) Bleys, Who taught him magic ; but the scholar ran Before the master, and so far, that Bleys Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wrote A-11 things and whatsoever Merlin did In one great annal-book, where after- years Will learn the secret of our Arthur's birth." To whom the King Leodogran re- plied, 0 friend, had I been holpen half as well By this King Arthur as by thee to-day, Then beast and man had had their share of me ; But summon here before us once more Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere." Then, when they came before him, the king said, 1 have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl, And reason in the chase : but where- fore now Do these your lords stir up the heat of war. Some calling Arthur born of Gorlois, Others of Anton? Tell me, ye your- selves. Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's son ? " And Ulfius and Brastias answer'd, *'Ay." Then Bedivere, the first of all his knights Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake — For bold in heart and act and word was he. Whenever slander breathed against the king— I OF ARTHUR. 295 Sir, there be many rumors on this head : For there be those who hate him in their hearts. Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet. And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man : And there -be those who deem liim more than man, And dream he dropt from heaven: but my belief In all this matter — so ye care to learn — Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's time The prince and warrior Gorloi's, he that held Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea. Was wedded with a winsome wife, Ygerne : And daughters had she borne him, — one whereof. Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bel- licent. Hath ever like a loyal sister cleaved To Arthur, — but a son she had not borne. And Uther cast upon her eyes of love : But she, a stainless wife to Gorloi's, So loathed the bright dishonor of his love. That Gorlois and King Uther went to war: And overthrown was Gorloi's and slain. Then Uther in his wrath and heat be- sieged Ygerne within Tintagil, where her men. Seeing the mighty swarm about their walls, Left her and fled, and Uther enter'd in. And there was none to call to but him- self. So, compass'd by the power of the king, Enforc'd she was to wed him in her tears, And with a shameful swiftness ; after- ward. Not many moons. King Uther died him- self, Moaning and wailing for an heir to rule After him, lest the realm should go to wrack. ^96 THE COMING And that same night, the night of the new year, By reason of the bitterness and grief That vext his mother, all before his time Was Arthur born, and all as soon as born X)eliver'd at a secret postern gate To Merlin, to be holden far apart Until his hour should come ; because the lords Of that tierce day were as the lords of this, Wild beasts, and surely would have torn the child Piecemeal among them, had they known ; for each Bat sought to rule for his own self and hand, And many hated Uther for the sake Of Gorlois. Wherefore Merlin took the child, And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knight And ancient friend of Uther ; and his wife Nursed the young prince, and rear'd him with her own ; And no man knew. And ever since the lords Have foughten like wild beasts among themselves, So that the realm has gone to wrack : but now, This year, when Merlin (for his hour had come) Brought Arthur forth, and set him in the hall. Proclaiming, ' Here is Uther's heir, your king,' A hundred voices cried, < Away with him! No king of ours ! a son of Gorlois he. Or else the child of Anton, and no king. Or else baseborn.' Yet Merlin thro' his craft. And while the people clamor'd for a king. Had Arthur crown'd ; but after, the great lords Banded, and so brake out in open war." Then while the king debated with himself OF ARTHUR. If Arthur were the child of shamef ul- ness. Or born the son of Gorlois, after death, Or Uther's son, and born before his time. Or whether there were truth in any- thing Said by these three, there came to Cameliard, With Gawain and young Modred, the two sons. Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Belli- cent ; Whom as he could, not as he would, the king Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat, A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas — Ye come from Arthur's court : think ye this king — So few his knights, however brave they be— Hath body enow to beat his foemen down?" O king," she cried, " and I will tell thee : few, Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him ; For I was near him when the savage yells Of Uther's peerage died, and Arthur sat Crown'd on the dais, and his warriors cried, ' Be thou the king, and we will work thy will Who love' thee.' Then the king in low deep tones, And simple words of great authority, Bound them by so strait vows to his own self. That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some Were pale as at the passing of a ghost, Some flush' d, and others dazed, as one who wakes Half-blinded at the coming of a light. " But when he spake and cheer'dhis Table Round With large divine and comfortable words THE COMING Beyond my tongue to tell thee— I be- held From eye to eye thro' all their Order flash A momentary likeness of the king: And ere it left their faces, thro' the cross And those around it and the Crucified, Down from the casement over Arthur, smote Flame-color, vert and azure, in three rays, One falling upon each of three fair queens, Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright Sweet faces, who will help him at his need. ^ <'And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit And hundred winters are but as the hands Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege. "And near him stood the Lady of the Lake, Who knows a subtler magic than his own — Clothed in white samite, mystic, won- derful. She gave the king his huge cross-hilted sword, Whereby to drive the heathen out : a mist Of incense curl'd about her, and her face Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom ; I But there was heard among the holy I hymns I A voice as of the waters, for she dwells iDown in a deep, calm, whatsoever I storms iMay shake the world, and when the I surface rolls, ■Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord. There likewise I beheld Excalibur Before him at his crowning borne, the sword That rose from out the bosom of the lake. OF ARTHUR. 297 And Arthur row'd across and took it—* rich With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt, Bewildering heart and eye— the blade so bright. That men are blinded by it — on one side. Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world, ' Take me,' but turn the blade and you shall see, And written in the speech ye speak yourself, * Cast me away ! ' And sad was Ar- thur's face Taking it, but old Merlin counsell'd him, ' Take thou and strike ! the time to cast away Is yet far off.' So this great brand the king Took, and by this will beat his foemen down." Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought To sift his doubtings to the last, and ask'd, Fixing full eyes of question on her face, The swallow and the swift are near akin. But thou art closer to this noble prince, Being his own dear sister ; " and she said, " Daughter of Gorloi's and Ygerne am And therefore Arthur's sister," ask'd the King. She answer'd, ''These be secret things," and sign'd To those two sons to pass and let them be. And Gawain went, and breaking into song Sprang out, and follow'd by his flying hair Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he saw; But Modred laid his ear beside the doors. And there half heard ; the same that afterward Struck for the throne, and striking found his doom. And then the Queen made answer^ " What know I ? 298 THE COMING For dark my mother was in eyes and hair, And dark in hair and eyes am I ; and dark Was Gorloi's, yea and dark was Uther too, Wellnigh to blackness ; but this king is fair Beyond the race of Britons and of men. Moreover always in my mind I hear A cry from out the dawning of my life, A mother weeping and I hear her say, * O that ye had some brother, pretty one, To guard thee on the rough ways of the world.' " " Ay," said the King, " and hear ye such a cry ? But when did Arthur chance upon thee first?" **0 king!" she cried, <'and I will tell thee true : He found me first when yet a little maid: Beaten I had been for a little fault Whereof I was not guilty ; and out I ran And flung myself down on a bank of heath, And hated this fair world and all therein, And wept, and wish'd that I were dead; and he— I know not whether of himself he came. Or brought by Merlin, who, they say, can walk tJnseen at pleasure— he was at my side, And spake sweet words, and comforted my heart, Aud dried ray tears, being a child with me. And many a time he came, ^nd ever- more As I grew greater grew with me ; and sad At times he seem'd, and sad with him wasl. Stern too at times, and then I loved him not, But sweet again, and then I loved him well . And now of late I see him less and less, OF ARTHUR. But those first days had golden "hours for me. For then I surely thought he would be king. " But let me tell thee now another tale: For Bleys, our Merlin's master, as they say. Died but of late, and sent his cry to me, To hear him speak before he left his life. Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the mage. And when I enter'd told me that him- self And Merlin ever served about the king, Uther, before he died, and on the night When Uther in Tintagil past away Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two Left the still king, and passing forth to breathe. Then from the castle gateway by the chasm Descending thro' the dismal night— a night In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost — Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps It seem'd in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof A dragon wing'd, and" all from stem to stern Bright with a shining people on the decks. And gone as soon as seen. And then the two Dropt to the cove, and watch'd the great sea fall. Wave after wave, each mightier than the last. Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame : And down the wave and in the flame was borne A naked babe, and rode to Merlin'* feet, THE COMING Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried ' The King ! Here is an heir for Uther ! ' And the fringe Of that great breakei', sweeping up the strand, Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the word. And all at once all round him rose in lire. So that the child and he were clothed in fire. And presently thereafter follow'd calm, Free sky and stars : ' And this same child,' he said, * Is he who reigns ; nor could I part in peace Till this were told.' And saying this the seer Went thro' the strait and dreadful pass ot death. Not ever to be question'd any more Save on the further side ; but when I met Merlin, and ask'd him if these things were truth — The shining dragon and the naked child Descending in the glory of the seas — He laugh'd as is his wont, and answer'd me In riddling triplets of old time, and said : ' Rain, rain, and sun ! a rainbow in the sky ! A young man will be wiser by and by; An old man's wit may wander ere he die. Rain, rain, and sun ! a rainbow on the lea! And truth is this to me, and that to thee ; And truth or clothed or naked let it be. Rain, sun, and rain ! and the free blossom blows : Sun, rain, and sun ! and where is he who knows ? From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' " So Merlin riddling anger'd me ; but thou OF ARTHUR. Fear not to give this king thine only child, Guinevere : so great bards of him will sing Hereafter : and dark sayings from of old Ranging and ringing thro' the minds of men, And echo'd by old folk beside their tires For comfort after their wage-work is done. Speak of the king ; and Merlin in our time Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn Tho' men maywound him that he will not die, But pass, again to come ; and then or now Utterly smite the heathen underfoot, Till these and all men hail him for their king." She spake and King Leodogran re- joiced. But musing Shall I answer yea or nay ? " Doubted, and drowsed, nodded and slept, and saw, Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew, Fiel& after field, up to a height, the peak Haze-hidden, and thereon a phantom king, Now looming, and now lost ; and on the slope The sword rose, the hind fell, the herd was driven, Fire glimpsed ; and all the land from roof and rick, In drifts of smoke before a rolling wind, Stream'd to the peak, and mingled with the haze And made it thicker ; while the phan- tom king Sent out at times a voice ; and here or there Stood one who pointed toward the voice, the rest Slew on and burnt, crying, No king of ours, No son of Uther, and no king of ours • " 300 GAEETH AJ\ Till with a wink his dream was changed, the haze Descended, and the solid earth became As nothing, and the king stood out in heaven, Crown'd. And Leodogran awoke, and sent Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere, Back to the court of Arthur answering yea. Then Arthur charged his warrior whom he loved And honor' d most. Sir Lancelot, to ride forth And bring the Queen ;— and watch' d him from the gates : And Lancelot past away among the flowers, (For then was latter April) and re- turn' d Among the flowers, in May, with Guin- evere. To whom arrived, by Dubric the high saint, Chief of the church in Britain, and be- fore The stateliest of her altar-shrines, the king That morn was married, while in stain- less white, The fair beginners of a nobler time. And glorying in their vows and him, his knights Stood round him, and rejoicing in his joy- And holy Dubric spreal his hands and spake, ^'Beign ye, and live and love, and make the world Other, and may thy Queen be one with thee, And all this Order of thy Table Round Fulfil the boundless purpose of their king." Then at the marriage feast came in from Rome, The slowly-fading mistress of the world, Great lords, who claim'd the tribute as of yore. But Arthur spake, "Behold, for these have sworn To fight my wars, and worship me their king; D LYNETTE, The old order changeth, yielding place to new ; And we that fight for our fair f athef Christ, Seeing that ye be grown too weak and old To drive the heathen from your Roman wall. No tribute will we pay : " so thos grea lords Drew back in wrath, and Arthur strov with Rome And Arthur and his knighthood for a space Were all one will, and thro' that strength the king Drew in the petty princedoms under him. Fought, and in twelve great battles overcame The heathen hordes, and made a realm and reign'd. GARETH AND LYNETTE.* WITH THIS POEM THE AUTHOR CON- CLUDES " THE IDYLS OF THE KING." The last tall son of Lot and Belli- cent, And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine Lost footing, fell, and so was whirl'd away. "How he went down," said Gareth, " as a false knight Or evil king before my lance if lance Were mine to use— O senseless catar- act, Bearing all down in thy precipitancy— And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows, And mine is living blood : thou dost His will, The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know, Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall * Gareth follows The Coming or Arthur, and The Last Tournament pre- cedes Guinevere. GAIiETR AN. Linger with vacillating obedience, Prison'd, and kept and coax'd and whistled to — Since the good mother holds me still a child- Good mother is bad mother unto me ! A worse were better ; yet no worse would I. Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force To weary her ears with one continuous prayer, Until she let me fly discaged to sweep In ever-highering eagle-circles up To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop t)own upon all things base, and dash them dead, A knight of Arthur, working out his will, To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came With Modred hither in the summer- time, Ask'd me to tilt with hi:r, the j roven knight, Modred for want of worthier was the judge. Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said, • Thou hast half prevail'd against me, said so— he — Tho' Modred biting his thin lips was mute, For he is always sullen : what care I?" And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair Ask'd, Mother, tho' ye count me still the child. Sweet mother, do ye love the child?" She laugh'd, Thou art but a wild-goose to question it." Then, mother, and ye love the child," he said. Being a goose and rather tame than wild, Hear the child's story." "Yea, my well-beloved, An't were but of the goose and golden eggs." And Gareth answer'd her with kind- ling eyes. ) LYNETTE. 301 Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine Was finer gold than any goose can lay; For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours. And there was ever haunting round the palm A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw The splendor sparkling from aloft, and thought ' An I could climb and lay my hand upon it. Then were 1 wealthier than a leash of kings.' But ever when he reach'd a hand to climb. One, that had loved him from his child- hood, caught And stay'd him, * Climb not lest thou break thy neck, I charge thee by my love,' and so the Sweet mother, neither clomb, nor brake his neck. But brake his very heart in pining for it. And past away." To whom the mother said, True love, sweet son, had risk'd him- self and climb'd, And handed down the golden treasure to him." And Gareth answer'd her with kind- ling eyes, ''Gold? said I gold?— ay, then, why he, or she, Or whosoe'er it was, or half the world Had ventured— /ia(i the thing I spake of been Mere gold— but this was all of that true steel, Whereof they forged the brand Excal- ibur, And lightnings played about it in the storm. And all the little fowl were flurried at it. And there were cries and clashings in the nest. That sent him from his senses : let me go." 302 GAPxETH AJS Then Bellicentbemoan'd herself and said, " Hast thou no pity upon my loneli- ness ? Lo, where thy father Lot beside the hearth Lies like a log, and all but smoulder' d out! For ever since when traitor to the King He fought against him in the Baron's war, And Arthur gave him back his terri- . tory, His age hath slowly droopt, and now lies there A yet warm-corpse, and yet unburi- able, Iso more ; nor sees, nor hears, nor speaks, nor knows. And both thy brethren are in Arthur's hall. Albeit neither loved with that full love ; I feel for thee, nor wortLy such a love : Stay therefore thou ; red uerries charm the bird, And thee, mine innocent, the jousts, the wars, Who never knewest finger-ache, nor pang Of wrench' d or broken limb — an often chance In those brain-stunning shocks, and tourney-falls, Frights to my heart ; but stay : follow the deer By these tall firs and our fast-falling burns ; So make thy manhood mightier day by day ; Sweet is the chase : and I will seek thee out r Some comfortable bride and fair, to grace Thy climbing life, and cherish my prone year. Till falling into Lot's forgetfulness I know not thee, myself, nor anytJiing. Stay, my best son ! 'ye are yet more boy than man." Then Gareth, " An ye hold me yet for child. Hear yet once more the story of the child. D LYNETTE, For, mother, there was once a King, like ours ; The prince his heir, when tall and mar- riageable, Ask'd for a bride ; and thereupon the King Set two before him. One was fair, strong, arm'd — But to be won by force— and many men Desired her ; one, good lack, no man desired, And these were the conditions of the King : That save he won the first by force, he needs Must wed that other, whom no man de- sired, A red-faced bride who knew herself so vile, That evermore she long'd to hide her- self. Nor fronted man or woman, eye to eye- Yea— some she cleavod to, but they died of her. And one — they calFd her Fame ; and one, O Mother i How can you keep nio tether'd to you — Shame ! Man am I grown, a man's work must I do. Follow the deer ? follow the Christ, the King, Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King- Else, wherefore born ? " To whom the mother said, "Sweet son, for there be many who deem him not, Or will not deem him, wholly proven King— Albeit in mine own heart I knew him King, When I was frequent with him in my youth. And heard him Kingly speak, and doubted him No more than he, himself ; but felt him mine, Of closest kin to me : yet— wilt thou leave Thine easeful biding here, and risk thine all. Life, limbs, for one that is not proven King ? 3 GARETH AND LYNETTE. 303 Stay, till the cloud that settles round his birth Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweet son." And Gareth answer'd quickly, " Not an hour, So that ye yield me— I will walk thro' tire. Mother, to gain it— your full leave to go. Not proven, who swept the dust of ruin'd Rome From off the threshold of the realm, and crush' d The Idolaters, and made the people free ? Who should be King save him who makes us free?" So when the Queen, who long had sought in vain To break him from the intent to which he grew. Found her son's will unwaveringly one, She answer'd craftily, *' Will ye walk thro' fire ? Who walks thro' fire will hardly heed the smoke. Ay, go then, an ye must : only one proof, Before thou ask the King to make thee knight, Of thine obedience and thy love to me. Thy mother, — I demand." And Gareth cried, " A hard one, or a hundred, so I go. Nay— quick ! the proof to prove me to the quick ! " But slowly spake the mother, look- ing at him, ** Prince, thou shalt go disguised to Arthur's hall. And hire thyself to serve for meats and drinks Among the scullions and the kitchen- knaves, And those that hand the dish across the bar. Nor shalt thou tell thy name to any one. And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth and a day* " For so the Queen believed that when her son Beheld his only way to glory lead Low down thro' villain kitchen- vassal- age. Her own true Gareth was tooprincely- • proud To pass thereby ; so should he rest with her. Closed in her castle from the sound of arms. Silent a while was Gareth, then replied, " The thrall in person may be free in bOUl, And I shall see the jousts. Thy son am I, And since thou art my mother, must obey. I therefore yield me freely to thy will; For hence will I, disguised, and hire myself To serve with scullions and with kitch^. en-knaves ; Nor tell my name to any —no, not the King." Gareth awhile linger'd The mother's Full of' the wistful fear that he would go, And turning toward him wheresoe'er he turn'd, Perplext his outward purpose, till an hour, When waken'd by the wind which with full voice Swept bellowing thro' the darkness on to dawn. He rose, and out of slumber calling two That still had tended on him from his birth, Before the wakeful mother heard him, went. The three were clad like tillers of the soil. Southward they set their faces. The birds made Melody on branch, and melody in mid- air. The damp hill-slopes were quicken'd into green. And the live green had kindled into flowers. For it was past the time of Easterday. GARETH AND L YNETTE. So, whsTi their feet were planted on the plain That broaden'd toward the base of Camelot, Far olf they saw the silver misty morn Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount, That rose between the forest and the field. At times the summit of the high city flash' d ; At times the spires and turrets half- way down Prick' d thro' the mist ; at times the great gate shone Only, that open'd on the field below : Anon, the whole fair city had dis ap- pear' d. Then those who went with Gareth were amazed, One crying, Let us go no farther, lord. Here is a city of Enchanters, built By fairy Kings." The second echo'd him, ** Lord, we have heard from our wise men at home To Northward, that this King is not the King, But only changeling out of Fairyland, Who drave the heathen hence by sor- cery And Merlin's glamour." Then the first again. Lord, there is no such city anywhere. But all a vision." Gareth answer' d them With laughter, swearing he had gla- mour enow In his own blood, his princedom, youth and hopes. To plunge old Merlin in the Arabian sea ; So push'd them all unwilling toward thfe gate. And there was no gate like it under heaven ; For barefoot on the keystone, which was lined And rippled like an ever-fleeting wave, The Lady of the Lake stood : all her dress Wept from her sides as water flowing away : But like the cross her great and goodly arms Stretch' d under all the cornice and up- held : And drops of water fell from either hand ; And down from one a sword was hung, from one A censer, either worn with wind and storm ; And o'er her breast floated the sacred fish ; And in the space to left of her, and right, Were Arthur's wars in weird devices done, New things and old co-twisted, as if Time Were nothing, so inveterately, that men Were giddy gazing there ; and over all High on the top were those three Queens, the friends Of Arthur, who should help him at his need. Then those with Gareth for so long a Stared at the figures, that at last it seem'd The dragon-boughts and elvish emblem- ings Began to move, seethe, twine and curl: they call'd To Gareth, " Lord, the gateway is alive." And Gareth likewise on them fixt his eyes So long, that ev'n to him they seem'd to move. Out of the city a blast of music peal'd. Back from the gate started the three, to whom From out thereunder came an ancient man, Long-bearded, saying, " Who be ye, my sons ? " Then Gareth, We be tillers of the soil. Who leaving share in furrow come to see The glories of our King : but thes©, my men, (.Your city moved so weirdly in the mist,) GARETH AND LYNETTE. 305 Doubt if the King be King at all, or come From fairyland ; and whether this be built By magic, and by fairy Kings and Queens ; Or whether there be any city at all, Or all a vision : and this music now Hath scared them both, but tell thou these the truth." Then that old Seer made answer playing on him And saying, " Son, I have seen the good ship sail Keel upward and mast downward in the heavens, And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air : And here is truth ; but an it please thee not, Take thou the truth as thou hast told it me. For truly, as thou sayest, a Fairy King And Fairy Queens have built the city, son ; They came from out a sacred mountain cleft Toward the sunrise, each with harp in hand. And built it to the music of their harps. And as thou sayest it is enchanted, son, For there is nothing in it as it seems Saving the King ; tho' some there be that hold The King a shadow, and the city real : Yet take thou heed of him, for, so thou pass Beneath this archway, then wilt thou become A thrall to his enchantments, for the King Will bind thee by such vows, as is a shame A man should not be bound by, yet the which No man can keep ; but, so thou dread to swear, Pass not beneath this gateway, but abide Without, among the cattle of the field. For, an ye heard a music, like enow They are building still, seeing the city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever." 20 Gareth spake Anger'd, Old Master, reverence thine own beard That looks as white as utter truth, and seems Wellnigh as long as thou art statured tall ! Why mockest thou the stranger that hath been To thee fair-spoken ? " But the Seer replied, Know ye not then the Kiddling of the Bards ? * Confusion, and illusion, and relation, Elusion, and occasion, and evasion ? ' 1 mock thee not but as thou mockest me. And all that see thee, for thou art not who Thou seemest, but I know thee who thou art. And now thou goest up to mock the King, Who cannot brook the shadow of any lie." Unmockingly the mocker ending here Turn'd to the right, and past along the plain ; Whom Gareth looking after said, *'My men , Our one white lie sits like a little ghost Here on the threshold of our enterprise. Let love be blamed for it, not she, nor I : Well, we will make amends." With all good cheer He spake and laugh'd, then enter'd with his twain Camelot, a city of shadowy palaces, And stately, rich in emblem and the work Of ancient kings who did their days in stone ; Which Merlin's hand, the Mage at Ar- thur's court. Knowing all arts, had touch'd, and everywhere At Arthur's ordinance,tipt with lessen- ing peak And pinnacle, and had made it spire " to heaven. And ever and anon a knight would 306 GARETH AN Outward, or inward to the hall : liis arms Clash'd ; and tlie sound was good to Gareth's ea::, A.nd out of bower and casement shyly glanced Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars of love ; 4nd all about a healthful people stept ^s in the presence of a gracious king. Then into hall Gareth ascending heard A voice, the voice of Arthur, and beheld Far over heads in that long- vaulted hall The splendor of the presence of the King Throned, and delivering doom — and look'd no more — But felt his young heart hammering in his ears, And thought, For this half -shadow of a lie The truthful King will doom me when I speak." Yet pressing on, tho' all in fear to find Sir Gawain or Sir Modred, saw nor one Nor other, but in all the listening eyes Of those tall knights, that ranged about the throne. Clear honor shining like the dewy star Of dawn, and faith in their great King, with pure Affection, and the light of victory, And glory gain'd,and evermore to gain. Then came a widow crying to the King, A boon, Sir King ! Thy father, Uther, reft From my dead lord a field with vio- lence ; For howsoe'er at first he proffer'd gold. Yet, for the field was pleasant in our eyes, We yielded not ; and then he reft us of it Perforce, and left us neither gold nor field." Said Arthur, Whether would ye ? gold or field ?" To whom the woman weeping, Nay, my lord, D LYNETTE. The field was pleasant in my husband's eye." And Arthur, Have thy pleasant field again, And thrice the gold for Uther's use thereof, According to the years. No boon is here, But justice, so thy say be proven true. Accursed, who from the wrongs his father did Would shape himself a right ! " And while she past. Came yet another widow crying to him A boon, Sir King ! Thine enemy, King, am I. With thine own hand thou slewest my dear lord, A knight of Uther, in the Barons' war, When l^ot and many another rose and fought Against thee, saying thou wert basely born. I held with these, and loathe to ask thee aught. Yet lo ! my husband's brother had my son Thrall'd in his castle, and hath starved him dead ; And standetli seized of that inheritance Which thou that slewest the sire hast left the son. So tho' I scarce can ask it thee for hate, Grant me some knight to do the battle for me, Kill the foul thief, and wreak me for my son." Then strode a good knight forward, crying to him, '* A boon. Sir King ! I am her kins- man, I. Give me to right her wrong, and slay the man." Then came Sir Kay, the seneschal, and cried, A boon, Sir King ! ev'n that thou grant her none, This railer, that hath mock'd thee in full hail- None ; or the wholesome boon of gyve and gag," But Arthur . " We sit, King, to help the wrong'd GARETH AND L YNETTE. The woman loves Thro' all our realm her lord. Peace to thee, woman, with thy loves and hates ! The kings of old had doom'd thee to the flames, Aurelius Emrys would have scourged thee dead, And Uther slit thy tongue : but get thee hence— Lest that rough humor of the kings of old Return upon me ! Thou that art her kin. Go likewise ; lay him low and slay him not, But bring him here, that I may judge the right, According to the justice of the King : Then, be he guilty, by that deathless King Who lived and died for men, the man shall die." Then came in hall the messenger of Mark, A name of evil savor in the land, The Cornish king. In either hand he bore What dazzled all, and shone far-oif as shines A field of charlock in the sudden sun Between two showers, a cloth of palest gold. Which down he laid before the throne, and knelt, Delivering, that his Lord, the vassal king. Was ev'n upon his way to Camelot ; For having heard that Arthur of his grace Had made his goodly cousin, Tristram, knight. And, for himself was of the greater state, Being a king, he trusted his liege-lord Would yield him this large honor all the more ; So pray'd him well to accept this cloth of gold, In token of true heart and fealty. Then Arthur cried to rend the cloth, to rend In pieces, and so cast it on the hearth. SOT The An oak-tree smoulder' d there, goodly knight ! What ! shall the shield of Mark stand among these ? " For, midway down the side of that long hall A stately pile,— whereof along the front. Some blazon'd. some but carven, and some blank. There ran a treble range of stony shields, — Rose, and high-arching overbrow'd the hearth. And under every shield a knight was named : For this was Arthur's custom in his hall; When some good night had done one noble deed. His arms were carven only ; but if twain His arms were blazon'd also ; but if none The shield was blank and bare without a sign Saving the name beneath ; and Gareth saw The shield of Gawain blazon'd rich and bright, And Modred's blank as death; and Arthur cried To rend the cloth and cast it on the hearth. " More like are we to reave him of his crown Than make him knight because men call him king. The kings we found, ye know we stay'd their hands From war among themselves, but left them kings ; Of whom were any bounteous, merci- ful, Truth-speaking, brave, good livers, them we enroll'd Among us, and they sit within our hall. But Mark hath tarnish'd the great name of king. As Mark would sully the low state of churl : And, seeing he hath sent us cloth of gold, 308 GARETH AND L YNETTE. Return, and meet, and hold him from our eyes, Lest we should lap him up in cloth of lead, Silen'ced forever — craven — a man of plots Craft, poisonous counsels, wayside am- bushings — No fault of thine : let Kay, the senes- chal, Look to thy wants, and send thee satis- fied- Accursed, who strikes nor lets the hand be seen ! " And many another suppliant crying came With noise of ravage wrought by beast and man, And evermore a knight would ride away. Last Gareth leaning both hands heavily Down on the shoulders of the twain, his men, Approach'd between them toward the King, and ask'd, *' A boon, Sir King (his voice was all ashamed), "For see ye not how weak and hun- ger worn t seem — leaning on these? grant me to serve For meat and drink among thy kitchen- knaves A twelvemonth and a day, nor seek my name. Hereafter I will fight." To him the King, '^^ A goodly youth and worth a goodlier boon ! But an, thou wilt no goodlier, then must Kay, The master of the meats and drinks, be thine." He rose and past ; then Kay, a man of mien Wan-sallow as the plant that feels it- self Root-bitten by white lichen, * ' Lo ye now ! This fellow hath broken from some Abbey, where, God wot, he had not beef and brewia enow, However that might chance ! but an he work, Like any pigeon will I cram his crop, And sleeker shall he shine than any hog." Then Lancelot standing near, "Sir Seneschal, Sleuth-hound thou knowest, and gray, and all the hounds ; A horse thou knowest, a man thou dost not know : Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair and fine, High nose, a nostril large and fine, and hands Large, fair and fine !— Some young lad's mystery — But, or from sheepcot or king's hall, the boy Is noble-natured. Treat him with all grace, Lest he should come to shame thy judging of him." Then Kay, What murmurest thou of mystery ? Think ye this fellow will poison the King's dish? Nay, for he spake too fool-like : mys- tery ! Tut, an the lad were noble, he had ask'd For horse and armor : fair and fine, forsooth ! Sir Fine-face, Sir Fair-hands ? but see thou to it That thine own fineness, Lancelot, some fine day Undo thee not— and leave my man to me." So Gareth all for glory underwent The sooty yoke of kitchen vassalage ; Ate with young lads his portion by the door, And couch' d at night with grimy kitchen-knaves. And Lancelot ever spake him pleas- antly, But Kay the seneschal who loved him not Would hustle and harry him, and ^ labor him GARETH AND L YNETTE. 309 Beyond his comrade of the hearth, and set To turn the broach, draw water, or hew wood, Or grosser tasks ; and Gareth bow'd himself "With all obedience to the King, and wrought A 11 kind of service with a noble ease That graced the lowliest act in doing it. And when the thralls had talk among themselves. And one would praise the love that linkt the King And Lancelot— how the King had saved his life In battle twice, and Lancelot once the King's — For Lancelot was the first in Tourna- ment, But Arthur mightiest on the battle- field— Gareth was glad. Or if some other told. How once the wandering forester at dawn. Far over the blue tarns and hazy seas, On Caer-Eryri's highest found the King, A naked babe, of whom the Prophet spake, He passes to the Isle Avilion, He passes and is heal'd and cannot die " — Gareth was glad. But if their talk were foul, Then would he whistle rapid as any lark. Or carol some old roundelay, and so loud That first they mock'd, but after, rev- erenced him. Or Gareth telling some prodigious tale Of knights, who sliced a red life-bub- bling way Thro' twenty folds of twisted dragon, held All in a gap-mouth'd circle his good mates Lying or sitting round him, idle hands, Charm'd; till Sir Kay, the seneschal, would come Blustering upon them, like a sudden wind Among dead leaves, and drive them all apart. Or when the thralls had sport among themselves, So there were any trial of mastery, He, by two yards in casting bar or stone, Was counted best; and if there chanced a joust. So that Sir Kay nodded him leave to go, Would hurry thither, and when ae saw the knights Clash like the coming and retiring wave. And the spear spring, and good horse reel, the boy Was half beyond himself for ecstasy. So for a month he wrought among the thralls ; But in the weeks that follow'd, the good Queen, Repentant of the word she made him swear, And saddening in her childless castle, sent, Between the increscent and decresent moon. Arms for her son, and loosed him from his vow. This, Gareth hearing from a squire of Lot With whom he used to play at tourney once, When both were children, and in lonely haunts Would scratch a ragged oval on the sand, And each at either dash from either end — Shame never made girl- redder than Gareth joy. He laugh' d ; he sprang. Out of the smoke, at once I leap from Satan's foot to Peter's knee — These news be mine, none other's — nay, the King's — Descend into the city:" whereon he sought The King alone, and found, and told him alU I have stagger' d thy strong Gawain in a tilt 310 GARETH AND L YNETTE, For pastime : yea, he Baid it : joust can I. Make me thy knight — in secret ! let my name Be hidd'n, and give me the first quest, I spring Like flame from ashes." Here the King's calm eye Fell on, and check'd, and made him flush, and bow Lowly, to kiss his hand, who answer'd him, ** Son, the good mother let me know thee here, And sent her wish that I would yield thee thine. Make thee my knight ? my knights are sworn to vows Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness, And, loving, utter f aithf uhiess in love, And uttermost obedience to the King." Then Gareth, lightly springing from his knees, My King, for hardihood I can promise thee. For uttermost obedience make de- mand Of whom ye gavfe me to, the Seneschal, No mellow master of the meats and drinks ! And as for love, God wot, I love not yet, But love I shall, God willing." And the King — Make thee my knight in secret ? yea, but he. Our noblest brother, and our truest man, And one with me in all, he needs must know." "Let Lancelot know, my King, let Lancelot know. Thy noblest and thy truest " And the King— But wherefore would ye men should wonder at you ! Nay, rather for the sake of me, their King, A'ld the deed's sake my knighthood do the deed. Than to be noised of." Merrily Gareth ask'd, Have I not eam'd my cake in baking of it? Let be my name until I make my name ! My deeds will speak : it is but for a day." So with a kindly hand on Gareth's arm Smiled the great King, and half-un^ willingly Loving his lusty youthhood yielded to him. Then, after summoning Lancelot privily, '^I have given him the first quest : he is not proven. Look therefore when he calls for this in hall, Thou get to horse and follow him far away. Cover the lions on thy shield, and see Far as thou mayest, he be nor ta'en nor slain." Then that same day there past into the hall A damsel of high lineage, and a brow May-blossom, and a cheek of apple- blossom. Hawk-eyes ; and lightly was her slen- der nose Tip-tilted like the petal of a flower ; She into hall past with her page and cried, *^ O King, for thou hast driven the foe without. See to the foe within ! bridge, ford, beset By bandits, every one that owns a tower The Lord for half a league. Why sit ye there ? Rest would I not, Sir King, an I were king, Till ev'n the lonest hold were all as free From cursed bloodshed, as thine altar- cloth From that blest blood it is a sin to spill." " Comfort thyself," said Arthur, ** I nor mine Rest : so my knighthood keep the vows they swore. GARETH AND L YNETTE, 311 Tlie wastest moorland of our realm shall be Safe, damsel, as the centre of this hall. What is thy name ? thy need ? " My name ? " she said — " Lynette my name ; noble ; my need, a knight To combat for my sister, Lyonors, A lady of high lineage, of great lands, And comely, yea, and comelier than myself. She lives in Castle Perilous : a river Runs in three loops about her living- place ; And o'er it are three passings, and three knights Defend the passings, brethren, and a fourth And of that four the mightiest, holds her stay'd In her own castle and so besieges her To break her will, and make her wed with him : And but delays his purport till thou send To do the battle with him, thy chief man Sir Lancelot whom he trusts to over- throw. Then wed, with glory ; but she will not wed Save whom she loveth, or a holy life. Now therefore have I come for Lance- lot." Then Arthur mindful of Sir Gareth ask'd. Damsel, ye know this Order lives to crush All wrongers of the Realm. But say, these four, Who he they? What the fashion of the men?" **They he of foolish fashion, O Sir King, The fashion of that old knight-errantry Who ride abroad and do but what they will ; Courteous or bestial from the moment. Such as have nor law nor king ; and three of these Proud in their fantasy call themselves the Day, Morning-Star, and Noon-Sun, and Evening-Star, Being strong fools ; and never a whit more wise The fourth, who alway rideth arm'd in black, A huge man-beast of boundless sav- agery. He names himself the Night and of- tener Death. And wears a helmtt mounted with a skull And bears a skeleton figured on his arms, To show that who may slay or scape the three Slain by himself shall enter endless night. And all these four be fools, but mighty men. And therefore am I come for Lance- lot." Hereat Sir Gareth call'd from where he rose, A head with kindling eyes above the throng, " A boon. Sir King — this quest ! *' then — for he mark'd Kay near him groaning like a wounded bull— " Yea, King, thou knowest thy kitchen- knave am I, And mighty thro' thy meats and drinks am I, And I can topple over a hundred such. Thy promise, King," and Arthur glan- cing at him. Brought down a momentary brow, " Rough, sudden. And pardonable, worthy to be knight — Go therefore," and all hearers were amazed. But on the damsel's forehead shame, pride, wrath. Slew the May- white : she lifted either arm, " Fie on thee. King ! I ask'd for thy chief knight, And thou hast given me but a kitchen- knave." Then ere a man in hall could stay her, turn'd. Fled down the lane of accees to the King, 312 GARETH AND L YNETTE. Took horse, descended the slope street, and past The weird white gate, and paused with- out, beside The field of tourney, murmming kitchen-knave." Now two great entries open'd from the hall. At one end one, that gave upon a range Of level pavement where the King would pace At sunrise, gazing over plain and wood. And down from this a lordly stairway sloped Till lost in blowing trees and tops of towers. And out by this main doorway past the King. But one was counter to the hearth, and rose High that the highest-crested helm could ride Therethro' nor graze : and by tjiis en- try fled The damsel in her wrath, and on to this Sir Gareth strode, and saw without the door King Arthur's gift, the worth of half a town, A warhorse of the best, and near it stood The two that out of north had follow'd him : This bare a maiden shield, a casque ; that held The horse, the spear ; whereat Sir Ga- reth loosed A cloak that dropt from collar-bone to heel, A cloth of roughest web, and cast it down. And from it like a f uel-smother'd fire, That lookt half -dead, brake bright, and flash'd as those Dull-coated things, that making slide apart Their dusk-wing cases, all beneath ^ there burns A jewel'd harness, ere they pass and fly. So Gareth ere he parted flash'd in arms. Then while he donn'd the helm, and took the shield And mounted horse and graspt aspear, of grain Storm-strengthen'd on a windy site, and tipt With trenchant steel, around him slowly prest The people, and from out of kitchen rame The thralls in throng, and seeing who had work'd Lustier than any, and whom they could but love, Mounted in arms, threw up their caps and cried, " God bless the King, and all his fel- lowship ! " And on thro' lanes of shouting Gareth rode Down the slope street, and past with, out the gate. So Gareth past with joy; but as the cur Pluckt from the cur he fights with, ere his cause Be cool'd by fighting, follows, being named. His owner, but remembers all, and growls Remembering, so Sir Kay beside the door Mutter' d in scorn of Gareth whom he used To harry and hustle. " Bound upon a quest With horse and arms — the King hath past his time — My scullion knave ! Thralls to your work again, For an your fire be low ye kindle mine! Will there be dawn in West and eve in East? Begone ! — my knave ! — belike and like enow Some old head-blow not heeded in his youth So shook his wits they wander in h prime — Crazed ! How the villain lifted up his voice, Nor shamed to bawl himself a kitchen- knave. Tut : he was tame and meek enow with me, GARE TH AND LYNETTE. 311 Till peacock'd up with Lancelot's no- ticing. Well— 1 will after my loud knave, and learn Whether he know me for his master yet. Out of the smoke he came, and so my lance Hold, by God's grace, he shall into the mire — Thence, if the King awaken from his craze, Into the smoke again." But Lancelot e*aid, " Kay, wherefore will ye go against the King, For that did never he whereon ye rail, But ever meekly served the King in thee ? Abide : take counsel ; for this lad is great And lusty, and knowing both of lance and sword." *' Tut, tell not me," said Kay, " ye are overfine To mar stout knaves with foolish cour- tesies." Then mounted, on thro' silent faces rode Down the slope city, and out beyond the gate. But by the field of tourney lingering yet Mutter'd the damsel, " Wherefore did the King Scorn me ? for, were Sir Lancelot lackt, at least He might have yielded to me one of those Who tilt for lady's love and glory here. Rather than — O sweet heaven ? O fie upon him — His kitchen-knave." To whom Sir Gareth drew (And there were none but few goodlier than he) Shining in arms, Damsel, the quest is mine. Lead, and I follow." She thereat, as one That smells a foul-flesh' d agaric in the holt, And deems it carrion of some woodland thing. Or shrew, or weasel, nipt her slender nose With petulant thumb and finger shrill- ing, " Hence ! Avoid, thou smellest all of kitchen- grease. And look who comes behind," for there was Kay. Knowest thou not me ? thy master? 1 am Kay. We lack thee by the hearth." And Gareth to him, " Master no more ! too well I know thee, ay — The most ungentle knight in Arthur's hall." " Have at thee then," said Kay : they sbock'd, and Kay Fell shoulder-slipt, and Gareth cried again, Lead, and I follow." and fas^ away she fled. But after sod and shingle ceased to fly Behind her, and the heart of her good horse Was nigh to burst with violence of the beat. Perforce she stay'd, and overtaken spoke. ** What doest thou, scullion, in my fellowship ? Deem'st thou that I accept thee aught the more Or love thee better, that by some de- vice Full cowardly, or by mere unhappi- ness, Thou hast overthrown and slain thy master— thou !— Dish-washer and broach-turner, loon ! — tell me Thou Fmellest all of kitchen as before." " Damsel," Sir Gareth answer'd gen- tly, " say Whate'er ye will, but whatsoe'er ya say, I leave not till I finish this fair quest, Or die therefor." Ay, wilt thou finish it ? Sweet lord, how like a noble knight ho talks ! 314 GARETH The listening rogue hath caught the manner of it. But, knave, anon thou shalt be met with, knave. And then by such a one that thou for all The kitchen brewis that was ever supt Shall not once dare to look him in the face." ** I shall assay," said Gareth with a smile That madden'd her, and away she flash' d again Down the long avenues of a boundless wood, And Gareth following was again be- knaved. '* Sir Kitchen-knave, I have miss'd the only way Where Arthur's men are set along the wood ; The wood is nigh as full of thieves as leaves : If both be slain, I am rid of thee ; but yet^ Sir Scullion, canst thou use that spit of thine ? Fight, an thou canst : I have miss'd the only way." So till the dusk that follow'd even- song Rode on the two, re viler and reviled : Then aftef one long slope was mounted, saw, Bowl-shaped, thro' tops of many thou- sand pines A gloomy-gladed hollow slowly sink To westward— in the deeps whereof a mere, Round as the red eye of an Eagle-owl, Under the half-dead sunset glared; and cries Ascended, and there brake a serving- man Flying from out of the black wood, and crying, *< They have bound my lord to cast him in the mere." Then Gareth, "Bound am I to right the wrong' d. But straitlier bound am I to bide with thee." And when the damsel spake contempt- uously. D LYNETTE, " Lead and I follow," Gareth cried again, " Follow, I lead ! " so down among the pines He plunged ; and there, blackshadow'd nigh the mere. And mia-thigh-deep in bulinishes and reed, Saw six tall men haling a seventh along, A stone about his neck, to drown Lim in it. Three with good blows he quieted, but three Fled thro' the pines; and Gareth loosed the stone From oft his neck, then in the mere beside Tumbled it; oilily bubbled up the mere. Last, Gareth loosed his bonds and on free feet Set him, a stalwart Baron, Arthur's friend. Well that ye came, or else these caitiff rogues Had wreak'd themselves on me ; good cause is theirs To hate me, for my wont hath ever been To catch my thief, and then like ver- min here Drown him, and with a stone about his neck ; And under this wan water many of them Lie rotting, but at night let go the stone, And rise, and flickering in a grimly light Dance on the mere. Good now, ye have saved a life Worth somewhat as the cleanser of this wood. And fain would I reward thee worship- fully. What guerdon will ye ? " Gareth sharply spake, " None ! for the deed's sake have \ done the deed, In uttermost obedience to the King. But will ye yield this damsel harbon age?" Whereat the Baron saying, I w«^il believe Ye be of Arthur's Table," a light laugh Broke from Lynette, Ay, truly of a truth, And in a sort, being Arthur's kitchen- knave ! — But deem not I accept thee aught the more, Scullion, for running sharply with thy spit Down on a rout of craven foresters, A thresher with his flail had scatter'd them. Nay — for thou smellest of the kitchen still. But an this lord will yield us harbor- age, Well." So she spake. A league beyond the wood, All in a full-fair manor and a rich, His towers where that day a feast had been Held in high hall, and many a viand left, And many a costly cate, received the three. And there they placed a peacock in his pride Before the damsel, and the Baron set Gareth beside her, but at once she rose. " Meseems, that here is much dis- courtesy. Setting this knave, Lord Baron, at my side. Hear me — this morn I stood in Ar- thur's hall. And pray'd the King would grant me Lancelot To fight the brotherhood of Day and Night — The last a monster unsubduable Of any save of him for whom I call'd — Suddenly bawls this f rontless kitchen- knave, * The quest is mine ; thy kitchen-knave am I, And mighty thro' thy meats and drinks am I.' Then Arthur all at once gone mad re- plies, * Go therefore,' and so gives the quest to him — Him— here— a villain fitter to stick swine GARE TH AND L YNE TTE. 315 Than ride abroad redressing women's wrong, Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman." Then half-ashamed and part-amazed, the lord Now look'd at one and now at other, left The damsel by the peacock in his pride. And, seating Gareth at another board, Sat down beside him , ate and then be- gan. Friend, whetl er ye be kitchen- knave, or not, Or whether it be the maiden's fan- tasy, And whether she be mad, or else the King, Or both or neither, or thyself be mad, I ask not : but thou strikest a strong stroke. For strong thou art and goodly there- withal, And saver of my life ; and therefore now. For here be mighty men to joust with, weigh, Whether thou wilt not with thy damsel back To crave again Sir Lancelot of the King. Thy pardon ; I but speak for thine avail. The saver of my life." And Gareth said, " Full pardon, but I follow up the quest. Despite of Day and Night and Death and Hell." So when, next morn, the lord whose life he saved Had, some brief space, convey' d them on their way And left them with God-speed, Sir Ga- reth spake, "Lead and I follow." Haughtily she replied, I fly no more : I allow thee for an hour. Lion and stoat have isled together, knave, In time of flood. Nay, furthermore, methinks 316 GARETH AND LYNETTE. Some rutli is mine for thee. Back wilt thou, fool ? For hard by here is one will over- throw And slay thee : then will I to court again, And shame the King for only yielding me My champion from the ashes of his hearth." To whom Sir Gareth answer'd cour- teously, Say thou thy say, and I will do my deed. Allow me for mine hour, and thou wilt find My fortunes all as fair as hers, who lay Among the ashes and wedded the King's son." Then to the shore of one of those long loops Wherethro' the serpent river coil'd, they came. Rough-thicketed were the banks and steep ; the stream Full, narrow ; this a bridge of single arc Took at a leap ; and on the further side Arose a silk pavilion, gay with gold In streaks and rays, and all Lent-lily in hue, Save that the dome was purple, and above. Crimson, a slender banneret fluttering. And there before the lawless warrior paced Unarm'd, and calling, Damsel, is this he. The champion ye have brought from Arthur's hall ? For whom we let thee pass." "Nay, nay," she said, " Sir Morning-Star. The King in utter scorn Of thee and thy much folly hath sent thee here His kitchen-knave : and look thou to thyself : See that he fall not on thee suddenly, And slay thee unarm'd : he is not knight but knave." Then at his call, "O daughters of the Dawn, And servants of the Morning-Star, ap- proach Arm me," from out the silken curtain- folds Barefooted and bareheaded three fair girls In gilt and rosy raiment came : their feet In dewy grasses glisten'd ; and the hair All over glanced with dewdrop or with gem Like sparkles in the stone Avanturine. These arm'd him in blue arms, and gave a shield Blue also, and thereon the morning star. And Gareth silent gazed upon the knight, Who stood a moment, ere his horse was brought. Glorying; and in the stream beneath him, shone, Immingled with Heaven's azure wa- veringly. The gay pavilion and the naked feet, His arms, the rosy raiment, and the star. Then she that watch'd him, Where- fore stare ye so ? Thou shakest in thy fear : there yet is time : Flee down the valley before he get to horse. Who will cry shame? Thou art not knight "but knave." Said Gareth, -'Damsel, whether knave or knight, Far liever had I tight a score of times Than hear thee so missay me and re- vile. Fair words were best for him who fights for thee ; But truly foul are better, for they send That strength of anger thro' mine arms, I know That I shall overthrow him." And he that bore The star, being mounted, cried from o'er the bridge, A kitchen-knave, and sent in scorn of me ! GARETH AN SSuch fight not I, but answer scorn with scorn. for this were shame to do him further wrong Than set him on his feet, and take his horse 4nd arms, and so return him to the King. ome, therefore, leave thy lady light- ly, knave. 4void : for it beseemeth not a knave To ride with such a lady." " Dog, thou liest. I spring from loftier lineage than thine own." Hcl spak^ ; and all at fiery speed the two Shock' d on the central bridge, and either spear Bent but not brake, and either knight at once, Hurl'd as a stone from out of a cata- pult Beyond his horse's crupper and the bridge, Fell, as if dead ; but quickly rose and drew, And Gareth lash'd so fiercely with his brand He drave his enemy backward down the bridge, The damsel crying, ** Well-stricken, kitchen-knave ! " Till Gareth's shield was cloven ; but one stroke Laid him that clove it grovelling on the ground. Then cried the fall'n, Take not my life : T yield." And Gareth, So this damsel ask it of me Good — I accord it easily as a grace." She reddening, '' Insolent scullion : I of thee ? I bound to thee for any favor ask'd ! " **Then shall he die." And Gareth there unlaced His helmet as to slay him, but she shriek 'd, " Be not so hardy, scullion, as to slay One nobler than thyself." Damsel, thy charge Is an abounding pleasure to me. Knight, D LYNETTE. 317 Thy life is thine at her command. Arise And quickly pass to Arthur's hall, and say His kitchen-knave hath sent thee. See thou crave His pardon for thy breaking of his laws. Myself, when I return, will plead for thee. Thy shield is mine — farewell ; and, damsel, thou Lead, and I follow." And fast away she fled. Then when he came upon her, spake, " Methought, Knave, when I watch'd thee striking on the bridge The savor of thy kitchen came upon me A little faintlier : but the wind hath changed : I scent it twentyfold." And then she sang, " * O morning star ' (not that tall felon there Whom tliou by sorcery or unhappiness Or some device, hast foully over- thrown), *0 morning star that smilest in the blue, O star, my morning dream hath proven true. Smile sweetly, thou ! my love hath smiled on me.' But thou begone, take counsel, and away, For hard by here is one that guards a ford — The second brother in their fool's par- able — Will pay thee all thy wages, and to boot. Care not for shame : thou art not knight but knave." To whom Sir Gareth answer 'd, laugh- ingly? "Parables? Hear a parable of the knave. When I was kitchen -knave among the rest Fierce was the hearth, and one of my CP-mates 318 GARETH AND L YNETTE. Owii'd a rough dog, to whom he cast his coat, * Guard it,' and there was none to med- dle with it. And such a coat art thou, and thee the King Gave me to guard, and such a dog am Ij To worry, and not to flee— and — knight or knave— The knave that doth thee service as full knight Is all as good, meseems, as any knight Toward thy sister's freeing." Ay, Sir Knave ! Ay, knave, because thou strikest as a knight Being but knave, I hate thee all the more." Fair damsel, ye should worship me the more. That, being but knave, I throw thine enemies." Ay, ay," she said, " but thou shalt meet thy match." So when they touch'd the second river-loop, Huge on a huge red horse, and all in mail Burnish'd to blinding, shone the Noon- day Sun Beyond a raging shallow. As if the flower, That blows a globe of after arrowlets. Ten thousand-fold had grown, flash' d the flerce shield, All sun ; and Gareth's eyes had flying blots Before them when he turn'd from watching him. He from beyond the roaring shallow roar'd, *' What doest thou, brother, in my marches here ? " And she athwart the shallow shrill'd again, "Here is a kitchen-knave from Ar- thur's hall Hath overthrown thy brother, and hath his arms." Ugh ! " cried the Sun, and vizoring up a red And cipher face of rounded foolish- ness, Push'd horse across the foamings of the ford, Whom Gareth met midstream : no room was there For lance or tourney-skill : four strokes they struck With sword, and these were mighty : the new knight Had fear he might be shamed ; but as the Sun Heaved up a ponderous arm to strike the flfth, The hoof of his horse slipt in the stream, the stream Descended, and the Sun was wash'd away. Then Gareth laid his lance athv»rart the ford ; So drew him home ; but he tha ould not fight, As being all bone-battered on the rock, Yielded ; and Gareth sent him to the King. Myself when 1 return will plead for thee. Lead, and I follow." Quietly she led. '*Hath not the good wind, damsel, changed again ! " ** Nay, not a point: nor art thou ..- tor here. There lies a ridge of slate across the ford ; His horse thereon stumbled— ay, for J saw It. '* * O Sun ' (not this strong fool whc m thou. Sir Knave, Hast overthrown thro' mere unhappi ness), ' O Sun, that wakenest all to bliss or pain, O moon, that lay est all to sleep again, Shine sweetly : twice my love hath smiled on me.' What knowest thou of lovesong oi of love? Nay, nay, God wot, so thou wert nobly born, Thou hast a pleasant presence. Yea, perchance, — *' ' O dewy flowers that open to th« sun. GARETH AND LYNETTE. O dewy flowers that close when day is done, Blow sweetly: twice my love hath smiled on me.' What knowest thou of flowers, ex- cept, belike. To garnish meats with ? hath not our good King "Who lent me thee, the flower of kitch- endom, A foolish love for flowers ? what stick ye round The pa ty? wherewithal deck the hour's head ? Flowers? nay, the boar hath rose- maries and bay. * O birds, that warble to the morn- ing sky, O bi. ' that warble as the day goes by, Sing' 'eetly : twice my love hath ailed on me.* ** What knowest thou of birds, lark, mavis, merle, Limvot? what dream ye when they utter forth May-music growing with the growing light. Their sweet sun-worship ? these be for • the snare (So runs thy fancy) these be for the spit. Larding and basting. See thou have not now Larded thy last, except thou turn and . fly- There stands the third fool of their allegory." For there beyond a bridge of treble bow, All in a rose-red from the west, and all Naked it seem'd, and glowing in the broad Deep-dimpled current underneath, the knight, hat named himself the Star of Eve- ning, stood. And Gareth, Wherefore waits the madman there Naked in open dayshine?'* '*Nay," she cried, " Not naked, only wrapt in harden*d skins 319 and so ye That fit him like his owl* cleave His armor olf him, these will turn the blade." Then the third brother shouted o'er the bridge, " O brother-star, why shine ye here so low? Thy ward is higher up : but have ye slain The damsel's champion?" and the damsel cried, No star of thine, but shot from Ar- thur's heaven With all disaster unto thine and thee ! For both thy younger brethren have gone down Before this youth ; and so wilt thou. Sir Star ; Art thou not old ? " "Old, damsel, old and hard, Old, with the might and breath of twenty boys.'' Said Gareth, "Old, and over-bold in brag ! But that same strength which threw the Morning-Star Can throw the Evening." Then that other blew A hard and deadly note upon the lioni. " Approach and arm me ! " With slow steps from out An old storm-beaten, russet, many- stain'd Pavilion, forth a grizzled damsel came. And arm'd him in old arms, ana brought a helm With but a drying evergreen for crest, And gave a shield whereon the Star of Even HaJf-tarnish'd and half-bright, his em- blem, shone. But when it glitter' d o'er the saddle- bow. They madly hurl'd together on the bridge. And Gareth overthrew him, lighted, drew, There met him drawn, and overthrew him again , But up like fire he started : and as oft As Gareth brought him grovelling on his knees, 320 GARETH AND LYNETTE. So many a time lie vaulted up again ; Till Garetli panted hard, and bis great heart. Foredooming all his trouble was in vain, Labor'd within him, for he seem'd as one That all in later, sadder age begins To war against ill uses of a life, But these from all his life arise, and *'Thou hast made us lords, and canst not put us down ! " He half despairs ; so Gareth seem'd to strike Vainly, the damsel clamoring all the while, " Well done, knave-knight, well strick- en, O good knight-knave — O knave, as noble as any of all the knights — Shame me not, shame me not. I have prophesied — Strike, thou art worthy of the Table Round — His arms are old, he trusts the hard- en'd skin- Strike — strike — the wind will never change again." And Gareth hearing ever stronglier smote. And hew'd great pieces of his armor olf him, But lash'd in vain against the hard- en'd skin, And could not wholly bring him under, more Than loud South westerns, rolling ridge on ridge. The buoy that rides at sea, and dips and springs Forever : till at length Sir Gareth's brand Clash'd his, and brake it utterly to the hilt. *w-hawk Has little time for idle questioners." Whereat Geraint flash'd into sudden spleen : "A thousand pips eat up your sparrow- hawk ! *^ Tits, wrens, and all wing'd nothings peck him dead ! Ye think the rustic cackle of your bourg The murmur of the world ! What is it to me ? O wretched *et of sparrows, one and all. Who pipe of nothing but of sparrow- hawks ! ' Speak, if ye be not like the rest, hawk- mad. Where can I get me harborage for the night? And arms, arms, arms to fight my enemy ? Speak ! " At this the armorer turning all amazed And seeing one so gay in purple silks, Came forward with the helmet yet in hand And answer'd. Pardon me, O stran- ger knight ; We hold a tourney here to-morrow morn. And there is scantly time for half the work. Arms ? truth ! I know not : all are wanted here. 330 GERAINT AKD ENID. Harborage ? truth, good truth, I know not, save, It may be, at Earl Yniol's, o'er the bridge Yonder." He spoke and fell to work again. Then rode Geraint, a little spleenful yet, Across the bridge that spann'd the dry ravine. There musing sat the hoary-headed Earl, (His dress a suit of fray'd magnifi- cence. Once fit for feasts of ceremony) and said : Whither, fair son?" to whom Ge- raint replied, " O friend, I seek a harborage for the night." Then Yniol, " Enter therefore and par- take The slender entertainment of a house Once rich, now poor, but ever open- door'd." 6 Thanks, venerable friend," replied Geraint ; So that ye do not serve me sparrow- hawks For supper, I will enter, I will eat With all the passion of a twelve hours' fast." Then sigh'd and smiled the hoary- headed Earl, And answer'd, Graver cause than yours is mine To curse this hedgerow thief, the spar- row-hawk : But in, go in ; for save yourself desire it, We will not touch upon him ev'n in jest." Then rode Geraint into the castle court, His charger trampling many a prickly star Of sprouted thistle on the broken stones. He look'd and saw that all was ruin- ous. Here stood a shatter' d archway plumed with fern , And here had fall'n a great part of a tower, Whole, like a crag that tumbles from the clilf , And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers : And high above a piece of turret stair, Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound Bare to the sun, and monstrous ivy- stems Claspt the gray walls with hairy fibred arms, And suck'd the joining of the stones, and look'd A knot, beneath, of. snakes, aloft, a grove. And while he waited in the castle court, The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang Clear thro' the open casement of the Hall, Singing ; and as the. sweet voice of a bird. Heard by the lander in a lonely isle. Moves him to think what kind of bird it is That sings so delicately clear, and make Conjecture of the plumage and the form ; So the sweet voice of Enid moved Ge- raint ; And made him like a man abroad at morn When first the liquid note beloved of men Comes flying over many a windy wave To Britain, and in April suddenly Breaks from a coppice gemm'd with green and red, And he suspends his converse with a friend. Or it may be the labor of his hands. To think or say, there is the nightin* gale ; " So fared it with Geraint, who thought and said, " Here, by God's grace, is the one voice for me." It chanced the song that Enid sang was one Of Fortune and her wheel, and Enid GERAINT Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud ; Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud ; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. *' Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown ; With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands ; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands ; For man is man and master of his fate. **Turn turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ; Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud ; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate." Hark, by the bird's song you may learn the nest" Said Yniol ; Enter quickly." Enter- ing then. Right o'er a mount of newly-fallen stones, The dusky-rafter'd many-cobweb'd Hall, He found an ancient dame in dim bro- cade ; And near her, like a blossom vermeil- white, That lightly breaks a faded flower- sheath. Moved the fair Enid, all in faded silk, Her daughter. In a moment thought Geraint, Here by God's rood is the one maid for me." But none spake word except the hoary Earl : " Enid, the good knight's horse stands in the court ; Take him to stall, and give him corn, and then Go to the town and buy us flesh and wine ; And we will make us merry as we may. Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great." AND ENID, 331 He spake : the Prince, as Enid past him, fain To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol caught His purple scarf, and held, and said Forbear ! Rest ! the good house, tho' ruin'd, O my Son, Endures not that her guest should serve himself." And reverencing the custom of the house Geraint, from utter courtesy, forbore. So Enid took his charger to the stall ; And after went her way across the bridge. And reach'd the town, and while the " Prince and Earl Yet spoke together, came again with one, A youth, that following with a costrel bore The means of goodly welcome, flesh and wine. And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them cheer. And in her veil enfolded, manchet bread. And then, because their hall must also serve For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread the board, And stood behind, and waited on the three. And seeing her so sweet and service- able, Geraint had longing in him evermore To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb. That crost the trencher as she laid it down : But after all had eaten, then Geraint, For now the wine made summer in his veins. Let his eye rove in following, or rest On Enid at her lowly handmaid-work, Now here, now there, about the dusky hall ; Then suddenly addrest the hoary Earl : "Fair Host and Earl, I pray your courtesy ; This sparrow-hawk, what is he, tell me of liim. B32 GERAINT AND ENID. His name ? but no, good faith, I will not have it : For if he be the knight whom late I saw iiide into that new fortress by your town, White from the mason's hand, then have I sworn From his own lips to have it— I am Geraint Of Devon — for this morning when the Queen Sent her own maiden to demand the name. His dwarf, a vicious under-shapen thing, Struck at her with his whip, and she return'd Indignant to the Queen ; and then 1 swore That I would track this caitiff to his hold. And fight and break his pride, and have it of him. And all unarm'd 1 rode, and thought to find Arms in your town, where all the men are mad ; They take the rustic murmur of their bourg For the great wave that echoes round the world ; They would not hear me speak : but if ye know Where I can light on arms, or if your- self Should have them, tell me, seeing 1 have sworn That 1 will break his pride and learn his name. Avenging this great insult done the Queen." Then cried Earl Yniol. Art thou he indeed, Geraint, a name far-sounded among men For noble deeds? and truly T, when first I saw you moving by me on the bridge, Felt you were somewhat, yea and by your state And presence might have guess' d you one of those That eat in Arthur's hall at Camelot. Nor speak I now from foolish flattery ; For tills dear child hath often heard me praise Four feats of arms, and often when I paused Hath ask'd again, and ever loved to hear ; So grateful is the noise of noble deeds To noble hearts who see but acts of wrong : v 0 never yet had woman such a pair Of suitors as this maiden ; first Li- mours, A creature wholly given to brawls and wine, Drunk even when he woo'd ; and be he dead 1 know not, but he past to the wild land. The second was your foe, the sparrow- hawk, My curse, my nephew — I will not let his name Slip from my lips if I can help it — he, When I that knew him fierce and tur- bulent Kefused her to him, then his pride awoke ; And since the proud man often is the mean, He sow'd a slander in the common ear, Aflirming that his father left him gold, And iu my charge, which was not ren- der'd to him ; Bribed with large promises the men who served About my person, the more easily Because my means were somewhat broken into Thro' open doors and hospitality ; Raised my own town against me in tie night Before my Enid's birthday, sack'd my house ; From mine own earldom foully ousted me ; Built that new fort to overawe my friends, For truly there are tliose who love m« y^t ; And keeps me in this ruinous castle here, Where doubtless he would put me soon to death. But that his pride too much despisea me : GERAINT And I myself sometimes despise my- self ; For I have let men be, and have their way ; Am much too gentle, have not used my power : Nor know I whether I be very base Or very manful, whether very wise Or very foolish ; only this 1 know, That whatsoever evil happen to me, I seem to sulfer nothing heart or limb. But can endure it all most patiently." "Well said, true heart," replied Ge- raint, but arms : That if the sparrow-hawk, this nephew, fight. In next day's tourney I may break his pride." And Yniol answer'd ''Arms, indeed, but old And rusty, old and rusty. Prince Ge- raint. Are mine, and therefore at your ask- ing, yours. But in this tournament can no man tilt. Except the lady he loves best be there. Two forks are tixt into the meadow ground. And over these is laid a silver wand. And over that is placed the sparrow- hawk. The prize of beauty for the fairest there. And this, what knight soever be in field Lays claim to for the lady at his side. And tilts with my good nephew there- upon, Who being apt at arms and big of bone Has ever won it for the ladv with him, And toppling over all antagonism Has earn'd himself the name of spar- row-hawk. But you, that have no lady, cannot fight." To whom Geraint with eyes cll bright replied, Leaning a little toward him, "Your leave ! Let me lay lance in rest, O noble host. For this decir child, because I never saw, ' AND ENID. 333 Tho' having seen all beauties of our time, Nor can see elsewhere, anything so fair. And if I fall her name will yet remain Untarnish'd as before ; but if 1 live, So aid me Heaven when at mine utter- most, As I will make her truly my true wife." Then, howsoever patient, Yniol's heart Danced in his bosom, seeing better days. And looking round he saw not Enid there, (Who hearing her own name had slipt away) But that old dame, to whom full ten- derly And fondling all her hand in his he said, " Mother, a maiden is a tender thing, And best by her that bore her under- stood. Go thou to rest, but ere thou go to rest Tell her, and prove her heart toward the Prince." So spake the kindly-hearted Earl, and she With frequent smile and nod departing ^ found, Half disarray'd as to her rest, the gii'l ; Whom first she kiss'd on either cheek, and then On either shining shoulder laid a hand, And kept her on and gazed upon her I face, And told her all their converse in the hall, Proving her heart : but never light and shade Coursed one another more on open ground Beneath a troubled heaven, than red and pale Across the face of Enid hearing her ; While slowly falling as a scale that falls. When weight is added only grain by grain, Sank her sweet head upon her gentle breast ; 334 GERAINT Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word, Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it; So moving without answer to her rest She found no rest, and ever fail'd to draw The quiet night into her blood, but lay- Contemplating her own un worthiness ; And when the pale and bloodless east began To quicken to the sun, arose, and raised Her mother too, and hand in hand they moved Down to the meadow where the jousts were held, And waited there for Yniol and Ge- raint. And thither came the twain, and when Geraint Beheld her first in field, awaiting him, He felt, were she the prize of bodily force, Himself beyond the rest pushing could move The chair of Idris. Yniol's rusted arms Were on his princely person, but thro' these Princelike his bearing, shone ; and er- rant knights j ^nd ladies came, and by and by the f town Flow'd in, and settling circled all the lists. And there they fixt the forks into the ground. And over these they placed a silver wand And over that a golden sparrow-hawk. Then Yniol's nephew, after trumpet blown, Spake to the lady with him and pro- claim'd, " Advance and take as fairest of the fair. For 1 these two years past have won it for thee. The prize of beauty." Loudly spake the Prince, ** Forbear : th^re is a worthier," and the knight With some surprise and thrice as much disdain AND ENID. ^ Turn'd, and beheld the four, and all his face Glow'd like the heart of a great fire at Yule, So burnt he was with pas8ion,crying out, Do battle for it then," no more ; and thrice They clash' d together, and thrice they brake their spears. Then each, dishorsed and drawing, lash'd at each So often and with such blows, that all the crowd Wonder'd, and now and then from dis- tant walls There came a clapping as of phantom hands. So twice they fought, and twice they breathed, and still The dew of their great labor, and the blood Of their strong bodies, flowing, drain'd their force. " But cither's force was match'd till Yniol's cry, Remember that great insult done the Queen," Increased Geraint's, who heaved his blade aloft. And crack'd the helmet thro', and biv the bone. And fell'd him, and set foot upon his breast. And said, " Thy name ? " To whom the fallen man Made answer, groaning, ''Edyrn, son of Nudd ! Ashamed am 1 that I should tell it thee. My pride is broken : men have seen my fall." " Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd," replied Geraint, " These two things shalt thou do, or else thou diest. First, thou thyself, thy lady, and thy dwarf, Shalt ride to Arthur's court, and being there. Crave pardon for that insult done th# Queen, And shalt abide her judgmenf,on it; next, Thou shalt give back their earldom to thy kin. GERAINT AND ENID, 335 These two things shalt thou do, or thou Shalt die." And Edyrn answer'd, These things will I do, For I have never yet been overthrown, And thou hast overthrown me, and my pride Is broken down, for Enid sees my fall ! ' ' And rising up, he rode to Arthur's court, And there the Queen forgave him easily. And being young, he changed, and came to loathe His crime of traitor, slowly drew him- self Bright from his old dark life, and fell at last In the great battle fighting for the king. But when the third day from the hunting-morn^ Made a low splendor in the world, and wings Moved in her ivy, Enid, for she lay With her fair head in the dim-yellow light, Among the dancing shadows of the birds, Woke and bethought her of her prom- ise given No later than last eve to Prince Ge- raint — So bent he seem'd on going the third day, He would not leave her, till her prom- ise ^iven — To ride with him this morning to the court, And there be made known to the stately Queen, And there be wedded with all cere- mony At thie she cast her eyes upon her ' ress, And thought it never yet had look'd 8 . .ean. For as a leaf in mid-November is To what it was in mid-October, seem'd The dress that now she look'd on to the dress She look'd on ere the coming of Ge- raint. And still she looli'd, and still the ter- ror grew Of that strange bright and dreadful thing, a court, All staring at her in her faded silk : And softly to herlown sweet heart she said : ''This noble prince who won our earldom back, So splendid in his acts and his attire, Sweet heaven, how much I shall dis- credit him ! Would he could tarry with us here awhile ! But being so beholden to the Prince, It were but little grace in any of us, Bent as he seem'd on going this third day, To seek a second favor at his hands. Yet if he could but tarry a day or two. Myself would work eye dim, and tin- ker lame, Far liefer than so much discredit him." And Enid fell in longing for a dress All branch'd and flower'd with gold, a costly gift Of her good mother, given her on the night Before her birthday, three sad years ago. That night of fire, when Edyrn sack'd their house. And scatter'd all they had to all the winds : For wliile the mother show'd it, and the two Were turning and admiring it, the work To both appear'd so costly, rose a cry That Edyrn's men were on them, and they fled With little save the jewels they had on. Which being sold and sold had bought them bread : And Edyrn's men had caught them in their flight, And placed them in this ruin ; 2,nd she wish'd The Prince had found her in her an- cient home ; Then let her fancy flit across the past, And roam the goodly places that :he knew ; And last bethought her how she us«d to watch, 336 GERAINT AND ENID. Near that old home, a pool of golden carp ; And one .^as patch'd and hlurr'd and lustreless Among his burnish'd brethren of the pool ; And half asleep she made comparison Of that and these to her own faded self And the gay court, and fell asleep again ; And dreamt herself was such a faded form Among her burnish'd sisters of the pool ; Bu J this was in the garden of a king ; .Vnd tho' she lay dark in the pool, she knew That all was bright ; that all about were birds Of sunny plume in gilded trellis- work ; That all the turf was rich in plots that look'd Each like a garnet or a turkis in it ; And lords and ladies of the high court went In silver tissue talking things of state; And children of the king in cloth of gold Glanced at the doors or gambol' d down the walks ; And while she thought " they will not see me,'' came A stately queen whose name was Guinevere, And all the children in their cloth of gold Ran to her, crying, if we have fish at all Let them be gold ; and charge the gar- deners now To pick the faded creature from the pool, And cast l^ on the mixen that it die." And therewithal one came and seized on her, And Enid started waking, with her heart All overshadow'd by the foolish dream, And . D ! it was her mother grasping her To get her well awake ; and in her hand A suit of bright apparel, which she laid Flat on the couch, and spoke exult- ingly : " See here, my child, how fresh the colors look. How fast they hold like colors of a shell That keeps the wear and polish of the wave. Why not? it never yet was worn, I trow : Look on it, child, and tell me if ye know it." And Enid look'd, but all confused at first. Could scarce divide it from her foolish dream : Then suddenly she knew it and re- joiced. And answer'd, Yea, I know it ; your good gift, So sadly lost on that unhappy night ; Your own good gift ! " Yea, surely," said the dame, ^' And gladly given again this happy morn. For when the jousts were ended yes- terday. Went Yniol thro' the town, and every- where lie found the sack and plunder of our house All scatter'd thro' the houses of the town ; And gave command that ail which once was ours, Shoul now be ours again : and yester- eve, While you were talking sweetly with your Prince Came one with this and laid it in my hand. For love or fear, or seeking favor of us, Because we have our earldom back again. And yester-eve I would not tell you of it. But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn. Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise ? For I myself unwillingly have worn My faded suit, as you, my child, have yours. And howsoever patient, Yniol his. GERAINT J All, dear, he took me from a goodly house, With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare, And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal, And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all That appertains to noble maintenance. Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house ; But since our fortune ^lipt from sun to shade. And all thro' that young traitor, cruel need Constrain'd us, but a better time has come ; So clothe yourself in this, that better fits Our mended fortunes and a Prince's bride : For tho' ye won the prize of fairest fair, And tho' I heard him call you fairest fair, Let never maiden think, however fair. She is not fairer in new clothes than old. And should some great court-lady say, the Prince Hath pick'd a ragged-robin from the hedge. And like a madman brought her to the court. Then were ye shamed, and, worse, might shame the Prince To whv^ra we are beholden ; but I kn^w, Wh-^^n m y dear child is set forth at her best. That neither court nor country, tho' they sought Thro' all the provinces like those of old That li'-hted on Queen Esther, has her match." Here ceased the kindly mother out of breath ; And Enid listen'd brightening as she lay ; Then, as the white and glittering star of morn Parts from a bank of snow, and by and ND ENID. 337 Slips int3 golden cloud, the maiden rose, And left her maiden couch, and robed herself, Help'd by the mother's careful hand and eye. Without a mirror, in the gorgeouf gown ; Who, after, turn'd her daughter round, and said. She never yet had seen her half so fair ; And call'd her like that maiden in the tale. Whom Gwydion made by glamour out of flowers. And sweeter than the bride of Cassi- velaun, Flur, for whose love the Roman Caesar first Invaded Britain, (" but we beat him back, As this great prince invaded us, and we, Not beat him back, but welcomed him with joy. And I can scarcely ride with you to court, For old am I, Ifcid rough the ways and wild ; But Yniol goes, and I full oft shall dream I see my princess as I see her now. Clothed with my gift, and gay among the gay.*' But while the women thus rejoiced, Geraint Woke where he slept in the high hall, and call'd For Enid, and when Yniol made re- port Of that good mother making Enid gay In such apparel as might well beseem His princess, or indeed the stately queen, He answer'd ; Earl, entreat her by my love, Albeit I give no reason but my wish, That she ride with me in her faded silk." Yniol with that hard message went ; it fell. Like flaws in summer laying lusty com : 338 GERAINT For Enid all abash'd she knew not why, Dared not to glance at her good mother's face, But silently, in all obedience, Her mother silent too, nor helping her, Laid from her limbs the costly-bioi- der'd gift, And robed them in her ancient suit again. And so descended. Never m^^^ re- joiced More than Geraint to greet her thus attired ; And glancing all at once as keenly at her. As careful robins eye the delver's toil, Made her cheek burn and either eye- lid fall. But rested with her sweet face satis- fied ; Tb 3n seeing cloud upon the mother's brow, Her by both hands he caught, and sweetly said. O my new mother, be not wroth or grieved At your new son, for my petition to her. When late I left Caerleon, our great Queen, In words whose echo lasts, they were so sweet, Made promise, that whatever bride I brought, Herself would clothe her like the sun in Heaven. Thereafter, when I reach'd this ruin'd hold, Beholding one so bright in dark estate, I vow'd that could I gain her, our kind Queen, No hand but hers, should make your Enid burst Sunlike from cloud — and likewise thought perhaps, That service done so graciously would bind The two together ; for I wish the two To love each other : how should Enid find A nobler friend ? Another thought I had ; I came among you here so suddenly, iND ENID, That tlio' her gentle presence at the lists Might well have served for proof that I was loved, I doubted whether filial tenderness, Or easy nature, did not let itself Be moulded by your wishes for her weal j Or whether some false sense in her own self <^f my contrasting brightness, overbore Her fancy dwelling in this dusky hall; And such a sense might make her long for court And all its dangerous glories : and I thought, That could I someway prove such force in her Link'd with such love for me, that at a word (No reason given her) she could cast aside A splendor riear to women, new to her, And therefore dearer ; or if not so new. Yet therefore tenfold dearer by the power Of intermitted custom ; then I felt That I could rest, a rock in ebbs and flows, Fixt on her faith. Now, therefore, I do rest, A prophet certain of my prophecy, That never shadow of mistrust can cross Between us. Grant me pardon for my thoughts : And for my strange petition I will make Amends hereafter by some gaudy -day, When your fair child shall wear your costly gift Beside your own warm hearth, with, on her knees. Who knows ? another gift of the high God, Which, maybe, shall have learn'd to lisp you thanks." He spoke : the mother smiled, but half in tears. Then brought a mantle down and wrapt her in it. And claspt and kiss'd her, and they rode away. GERAINT Now thrice that morning Guinevere had climb'd The giant tower, from whose liigh crest, they say. Men saw the goodly hills of Somerset, Anil white sails flying on the yellow sea ; But not to goodly hill or yellow sea Look'd the fair Queen, but up the vale of Usk, By the flat meadow, till she saw them come ; And then descending met them at the gates, Embraced her with all welcome as a friend, And did her honor as the Prince's bride. And clothed her for her bridals like the sun ; And all that week was old Caerleon gay, For by the hands of Dubric, the high saint. They twain were wedded with all cere- mony. And this was on the last year's Whit- suntide. But Enid ever kept the faded silk, Bemembering how first he came on her, Brest in that dress, and how he loved her in it. And all her loolish fears about the dress^ And all his journey toward her, as himself Ha he flung a wrathful answer back : " And if there were an hundred in the wood, And every man were larger-limb'd than I, And all at once should sally out upon me, I swear it would not ruflfle me so much As you that not obey me. Stand aside, And if I fall, cleave to the better man." And Enid stood aside to wait th« event, 842 GERAINT Not dare to watch tlie combat, only breathe Short tits of prayer, at every stroke a breath. And he, she di'eaded most, bare down upon him. Aim'd at the helm, his lance err'd ; but Geraint's, A little in the late encounter strain'd, Struck thro' the bulky bandit's corse- let home, And then brake short, and down his enemy roll'd. And there lay still ; as he that tells the tale, Saw once a great piece of a promontory, That had a sapling growing on it, slip From the long shore-cliff's windy walls to the beach, And there lie still, and yet the sapling grew : So lay the man transfixt. His craven pair Of comrades, making slowlier at the Prince, When now they say their bulwark fall- en, stood ; On whom the victor, to confound them more, Spurr'd with his terrible war-cry ; for as one. That listens near a torrent mountain- brook. All thro' the crash of the near cataract hears The drumming thunder of the huger fall At distance, were the soldiers wont to hear His voice in battle, and be kindled by it, And f oeman scared, like that false pair who turn'd Flying, but, overtaken, died the death Themselves had wrought on many an innocent. Thereon Geraint, dismounting, pick'd the lance That pleased him best, and drew from those dead wolves Their three gay suits of armor, each from each, And bound them on their horses, each on each. AND ENID, And tied the bridle-reins of all tiie three Together, and said to her, "Drive them on Before you," and she drove them thro* the wood. He follow'd nearer still : the pain she had To keep them in the wild ways of the ^wood. Two sets of three laden with jingling arms, Together, served a little to disedge The sharpness of that pain about her heart : And they themselves, like creatures gently born But into bad hands fall'n, and now so long By bandits groom'd, prick'd their light ears, and felt Her low firm voice and tender govern- ment. So thro' the green gloom of the wood they past, And issuing under open heavens be- held A little town with towers, upon a rock, And close beneath, a meadow gemlike chased In the brown wild, and mowers mow- ing in it : And down a rocky pathway from the place There came afair-hair'd youth, that in his hand Bare victual for the mowers : and Geraint Had ruth again on Enid looking pale : Then, moving downward to the mead- ow ground, He, when the fair-hair'd youth came by him, said, ** Friend, let her eat ; the damsel is so faint.'* Yea, willingly," replied the youth ; and you, My lord, eat also, tho' the fare is coarse. And only meet for mowers ; " then set down His basket, and dismounting on tli« sward They let the horses graze, and at© themselves. GEIiAINT AND ENID. 34S ^-.nd Enid took a little delicately, Less having etoinacli for it than desire To close with her loid's pleasure ; but Geraint Ate all the mowers' victual unawares, And when f ound u i empty, was amazed; And Joy," sa,id he, " 1 have eaten all, bu+^ take A horse and arms for guerdon ; choose the best." He, reddening in extremity of delight, " My lord, you overpay me lifty-fold." " Ye will be all the wealthier," cried the Prince. I take it as free gift, then," said the boy, " Not guerdon ; for myself can easily. While your good damsel resls, return, and fetch Fresh victual for these mowers of our Earl ; For these are his, and all the field is his. And I myself am his ; and I will tell him How great a man you are : he loves to know When men of mark are in his terri- tory : And he will have you to his palace here, And serve you costlier than with mow- ers' fare." Then said Geraint, "I wish no better fare : I never ate with angrier appetite Than when I left your mowers dinner- less. And into no Earl's palace will I go. I know, God knows, too much of pal- aces ! And if he want me, let him come to me. But hire us some fair chamber for the night. And stalling for the horses, and return With victual for these men, and let us know." Yea, my kind lord," said the glad youth, and went, Held his head high, and thought him- self a knight, And up the rocky pathway disappear'd, Leading the horse, and they were left alone. But when the Prince had brought his errant eyes Home from the rock, sideways he let them glance At Enid, where she droopt : his own false doom, That shadow of mistrust should never cross Betwixt them, came upon him, and he sigh'd ; Then with another humorous ruth re- mark'd The lusty mowers laboring dimierless, And watch'd the sun blaze on the turn- ing scythe, And after nodded sleepily in the heat. But she, remembering her old rnin'd hall. And all the windy clamor of the daws About her hollow turret, pluck' d the grass There growing longest by the mead- ow's edge. And into many a listless annulet, Now over, now beneath her marriage ring, Wove and unwove it, till the boy re- turn' d And told them of a chamber, and they went ; Where, after saying to her, " If ye will, Call for the woman of the house," to which She answer'd, Thanks, my lord ; " the two remain'd Apart by all the chamber's width, and mute As creatures voiceless thro' the fault of birth, Or two wild men supporters of a shield, Painted, who stare at open space, nor glance The one at other, parted by the shield. On a sudden, many a voice along the street, And heel against the pavement echo- ing, burst Their drowse ; and either started while the door, Push'd from without, drave backward to the wall. And midmost of a rout of roisterers. Femininely fair and dissolutely pale, Her suitor in old years before Geraint, 344 GERAINT AND ENID. Enter'd, the wild lord of the place, Limours. He moving up with pliant courtliness. Greeted Geraint full face, hut stealthi- ly, In the mid-warmth of welcome and graspt hand, Founa Enid with the corner of his eye, And knew her sitting sad and solitary. Then cried Geraint for wine and goodly cheer To feed the sudden guest, and sumptu- ously According to his fashion, bade the host Call in what men soever were his friends, And feast with these in honor of their earl ; And care not for the cost ; the cost is mine." And wine and food were brought, and Earl Limours Drank till he jested with all ease, and told Free tales, and took the word and play'd upon it. And made it of two colors ; for his talk. When wine and free companions kin- dled him, Was wont to glance and sparkle like a gem Of fifty facets ; thus he moved the Prince To laughter and his comrades to ap- plause. Then, when the Prince was merry, ask'd Limours, "Your leave, my lord, to cross the room, and speak To your good damsel there who sits apart. And seems so lonely?" *'My free leave " he said ; Get her to speak : she does not speak to me." Then rose Limours and looking at his feet, Like him who tries the bridge he fears may fail, Crost and came near, lifted adoring eyes, Bow'd at her side and utter' d whis- peringly : " Enid, the pilot star of my lone life, Enid my early and my only love, Enid the loss of whom has turn'd me wild — What chance is this ? how is it I see you here ? You are in my power at last, are in my power. Yet fear me not : I call mine own self wild, But keep a touch of sweet civility Here in the heart of waste and wilder- ness. I thought, but that your father came between . In former day: you saw me favorably. And if it were so do jiot keep it back : Make me a little happier : let me know iti Owe y me nothing for a life half- lost? Yea, yea, the whole dear debt of all you are. And, Enid, you and he, I see it with joy— You sit apart, you do not speak to him, You come with no attendance, page or maid, To serve you — does he love you as of old? For, call it lovers' quarrels, yet I know Tho' men may bicker with the things they love, They would not make them laughable in all eyes. Not while they loved them ; and your wretched dress, A wretched insult on you, dumbly speaks Your story, that this man loves you no more. Your beauty is no beauty to him now: A common chance— right well I know it— pall'd— For I know men : nor will ye win him back, For the man's love once gone never re- turns. But here is one who loves you as of old ; With more exceeding passion than of old : Good, speak the word : my followers ring him round : Hs sits unarm'd ; I hold a finger up ; They understand : no ; I do not mean blood : GERAINl 5<"or need you loo'c so scared at what I say : My malice is no deeper than a moat. No stronger than a wall : there is the keep ; He shall not cross us more ; speak but the word : Or speak it not ; but then by Him that made me The one true lover which you ever had, I will make use of all the power T have. O pardon me ! the madness of that hour, When first I parted from you, moves me yet." At this the tender sound of his own voice And sweet self-pity, or the fancy of it. Made his eye moist ; but Enid fear'd his eyes, Moist as they were, wine-heated from the feast ; And answer' d with such craft as wo- men use, Guilty or guiltless, to stave off a chance That breaks upon them perilously, and said : Earl, if you love me as in former years, And do not practise on me, come with morn, And snatch me from him as by vio- lence ; Leave me to-night: I am weary to the death." Low at leave-taking, with his bran- dish' d plume Brushing his instep, bow'd the all-am- orous Earl, And the stout Prince bade him a loud good-night. He moving homeward babbled to his men. How Enid never loved a man but him, Nor cared a broken egg-shell for her lord. But Enid left alone with Prince Ge- raint. Debating his command of silence given, And that she now perforce must violate it, Held commune with herself, and while she held He fell asleep, and Enid had no heart AKD ENID. 545 To wake him, but hung o'er him, wholly pleased To find him yet unwcunded after fight, And hear him breathing low and equally. Anon she rose, and stepping lightly, heap'd The pieces of his armor in one place. All to be there against a sudden need; Then dozed awhile herself, but over- toil'd By that day's grief and travel, ever- more Seem'd catching at a rootless thorn, and then Went slipping down horrible precipices And strongly striking out her limbs awoke ; Then thought she heard the wild Earl at the door. With all his rout of random followers, Sound on a dreadful trumpet, summon- ing her ; Which was the red cock shouting to the light. As the gray dawn stole o'er the dewy world. And glimmer'd on his armor in the room. And once again she rose to look at it, But touch'd it unawares : jangling, the casque Fell, and he started up and stared at her. Then breaking his command of silence given, She told him all that Earl Limours had said, Except the passage that he loved her not ; Nor left untold the craft herself had used ; But ended with apology so sweet. Low-spoken, and of so few words, and seem'd So justified by that necessity, That tho' he thought " was it for him she wept In Devon?" he but gave a wrathful groan. Saying " your sweet faces make good fellows fools And traitors. Call the host and bid him bring Charger and palfrey.** So she glided out 346 GERAINT ANT> ENID. Among the heavy breathings of the house, And like a household Spirit at the walls Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and return' d : Then tending her rough lord, tho' all unask'd, In silence, did him service as a squire ; Till issuing arm'd he found the host and cried, Thy reckoning, friend ? " and ere he learnt it, *' Take Five horses and their armors ; " and the host. Suddenly honest, answer'd in amaze, **My lord, I scarce have spent the worth of one ! " Ye will be all the wealthier," said the Prince, And then to Enid, Forward ! and to- day I charge you, Enid, more especially. What thing soever ye may hear, or see. Or fancy (tho' I count it of small use To charge you) that ye speak not but obey." And Enid answer'd, Yea, my lord, I know Your wish, and would obey ; but riding first, I hear the violent threats you do not hear, I see the danger which you cannot see: Then not to give you warning, that seems hard ; Almost beyond me : yet I would obey." Yea so," said he, " do it: be not too wise ; Seeing that ye are wedded to a man, Not quite mismated with a yawning clown. But one with arms to guard his head and yours, With eyes to find you out however far, Ajid ears to hear you even in his dreams." With that he turn'd and look'd as keenly at her As careful robins eye thedelver's toil ; And that within her, which a wanton fool, Or hasty judger would have call'd hej guilt, Made her cheek burn and either eye- lid fall. And Geraint look'd and was not satis fied. Then forward by a way which, beaten broad, Led from the territory of false Limours To the waste earldom of another earl. Doorm, whom his shaking vassals call'a the Bull, Went Enid with her sullen follower on. Once she look'd back, and when she saw him ride More near by many a rood than yester- morn. It wellnigh made her cheerful ; till Ge- raint Waving an angry hand as who should say Ye watch me," sadden'd all her heart again. But while the sun yet beat a dewy blade. The sound of many a heavily-galloping hoof Smote on her ear, and turning round she saw Dust, and the points of lances bicker in it. Then not to disobey her lord's behest, And yet to give him warning, for he rode As if he heard not, moving back she held Her finger up, and pointed to the dust. At which the warrior in his obstinacy, Because she kept the letter of bis word Was in a manner pleased, and turning, stood. And in the moment after, wild Li- mours, Borne on a black horse, like a thun- der-cloud Whoso skirts are loosen'd by the break- ing storm. Half ridden off with by the thing he rode, And all in passion uttering a dry- shriek, Dash'd on Geraint, who closed with him, and bore GERAINT AND ENID. 347 Iwwn by the length of lance and arm beyond U'he crupper, and so left him stunn'd or dead, And overthrew the next that followed him, And blindly rush'd on all the rout be- hind. But at the flash and motion of the man They vanisli'd panic-stricken, like a shoal Of darting fish, that on a summer morn Adown the crystal dykes at Camel ot Come slipping o'er their shadows on the sand. But if a man who stands upon the brink But lift a shining hand against the sun. There is not left the twinkle of a fin Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower. So, scared but at the motion of the man, Fled all the boon companions of the Earl, And left him lying in the public way ; So vanish friendships only made in wine. Then like a stormy sunlight smiled Geraint, Who saw the chargers of the two that fell Start from their fallen lords, and wild- ly fly. Mixt with the fliers. Horse and man," he said, " All of one mind and all right honest friends ! Not a hoof left : and I methinks till now Was honest — paid with horses and with arms ; I cannot steal or plunder, no nor beg : And so what say ye, shall we strip him there Your lover ? has your palfrey heart enough To bear his armor? shall we fast or dine ? No ? — then do you, being right hon- est, pray That we may meet the horsemen of Earl Doorm, I too would still be honest." Thus he said : And sadly gazing on her bridle-reins. And answering not one word, she led the way. But as a man to whom a dreadful loss Falls in a far land and he knows it not, But coming back he learns it, and the loss So pains him that he sickens nigh to death ; So fared it with Geraint, who being prick' d In combat with the followers of Li- mours, Bled underneath his armor secretly. And so rode on, nor told his gentle wife What ail'dhim, hardly knowing it him- self. Till his eye darken'd and his helmet wagg'd ; And at a sudden swerving of the road, Tho' happily down on a bank of grass. The Prince, without a word, from his horse fell. And Enid heard the crashing of his fall, Suddenly came, and ^,t his side all pale Dismounting, loosed the fastenings of his arms. Nor let her true hand falter, nor blue eye Moisten, till she had lighted on his wound. And tearing off her vei] of faded silk Had bared her forehead to the blister- ing sun, And swathed the hurt that drain'd her dear lord's life. Then after all was done that hand could do, She rested, and her desolation came Upon her, and she wept beside the way. And many past, but none regarded her, For in that realm of lawless turbu- lence, A woman weeping for her murder' d mate Was cared as much for as a summer shower : One took him for a victim of Earl Doorm, Nor dared to waste a perilous pity on him : 348 GERAINT AND ENID, Another hurrying past, a man-at-arms, Rode on a mission to the bandit Earl ; Half whistling and half singing a coarse song, He drove the dust against her veilless eyes. Another, flying from the wrath of Doorm Before an ever-fancied arrow, made The long way smoke beneath him in his fear ; At which her palfrey whinnying lifted heel, And scour'd into the coppices and was lost. While the great charger stood, grieved like a man. But at the point of noon the huge Earl Doorm, Broad-faced with under-fringe of rus- set beard, Bound on a foray, rolling eyes of prey. Came riding with a hundred lances up; But ere he came, like one that hails a ship. Cried out with a big voice, " What, is he dead?" No, no, not dead ! " she answered in all haste. " Would some of your kind people take him up. And bear him hence out of this cruel sun : Most sure am I, quite sure, lie is not dead." Then said Earl Doorm ; Well i? he be not dead. Why wail ye for him thus ? ye seem a child. And be he dead, I count you for a fool; Your wailing will not quicken him : dead or not, Ye mar a comely face with idiot tears. Yet, since the face is comely — some of you. Here, take him up, and bear him to our hall : An if he live, we will have him of our band ; And if he die, why earth has earth enough To hide him. See ye take the charger too, A noble one." He spake, and past away, But left two brawny spearmen, wh« advanced, Each growling like a dog, when his good bone Seems to be pluck'd at by the village boys Who love to vex him eating, and he fears To lose his bone, and lays his foot upon it, Gnawing and growling : so the ruffians growl'd, Fearing to lose, and all for a dead man, Their chance of booty from the morn- ing's raid ; Yet raised and laid him on a litter- bier. Such as they brought upon their fo- rays out For those that might be wounded ; laid him on it All in the hollow of his shield, and jfcook And bore him to the naked hall of Doorm, (His gentle charger following him un- led) And cast him and the bier in which he lay Down on an oaken settle in the hall. And then departed, hot in haste to join Their luckier mates, but growling as before. And cursing their lost time, and the dead man. And their own Earl, and their own souls, and her. They might as well have blest her : she was deaf To blessing and to cursing save from one. So for long hours sat Enid by her lord. There in the naked hall, propping his head. And chafing his pale hands, and call- ing to him. And at the last he waken'd from his swoon, And found his own dear bride propping his head. And chafing his faint hands, and call- ing to him ; GERAINT AND ENID. 349 And felt the warm tears falling on his face ; And said to his own heart, she weeps for me : " And yet lay still, and feign'd himself as dead, That he might prove her to the utter- most. And say to his own heart she weeps for me." But in the falling afternoon return'd The huge Earl Doorm with plunder to the hall. His lusty spearmen follow'd him with noise : Each hurling down a heap of things that rang Against the pavement, cast his lance aside. And doff 'd his helm : and then there fiutter'd in, Half-bold, half-frighted, with dilated eyes, A tribe of women, dress'd in many hues, And mingled with the spearmen : and Earl Doorm Struck with a knife's haft hard against the board, And call'd for flesh and wine to feed his spears. And men brought in whole hogs and quarter beeves, And all the h^ll was dim with steam of flesh : And none spake word, but all sat down at once. And ate with tumult in the naked hall, Feeding like horses when you hear them feed ; Till Enid shrank far back into herself. To shun the wild ways of the lawless tribe. But when Earl Doorm had eaten all he would. He roll'd his eyes about the hall, and found A damsel drooping in a corner of it. Then he remember'd her, and how she wept ; And out of her there came a power upon him ; And rising on a sudden, he said, " Eat ! I never yet beheld a thing so pale. God's curse, it makes me mad to see you weep. Eat ! Look yourself. Good luck had your good man. For were I dead who is it would weep for me ? Sweet lady, never since I first drew breath. Have I beheld a lily like yourself. And so there lived some color in your cheek. There is not one among my gentle- women Were fit to wear your slipper for a glove. But listen to me, and by me be ruled, And I will do the thing I have not done. For you shall share my earldom with me, girl, And we will live like two birds in one nest, And I will fetch you forage from all fields. For I compel all creatures to my will." He spoke : the brawny spearman let his cheek Bulge with the unswallow'd piece, and turning stared ; While some, whose souls the old ser- pent long had drawn Down, as the worm draws in the wither'd leaf. And makes it earth, hiss'd each at other's ear What shall not be recorded — women they. Women, or what had been those gra- cious things. But now desired the humbling of their best. Yea, would have help'd him to it : and all at once They hated her, who took no thought of them. But answer'd in low voice, her meek head yet Drooping, " I pray you of your cour- tesy, He being as he is, to let me be." She spake so low he hardly heard her 350 But like a mighty patron, satisfied With what himself had done so gra- ciously, Assumed that she had thanked him, adding, "yea, Eat and be glad, for I account you mine." She answer'd meekly, How should I be glad Henceforth in all the world at any- thing, Until my lord arise and look upon me ? " Here the huge Earl cried out upon her talk. As all but empty heart and weariness And sickly nothing; suddenly seized on her, And bare her by main violence to the board. And thrust the dish before her, crying, Eat." No, no," said Enid, vext, I will not eat. Till yonder man upon the bier arise, And eat with me." Drink, then," he answer'd. Here ! " (And flll'd a horn with wine and held it to her,) Lo ! 1, myself, when flush'd with fight, or hot, God's curse, with anger — often I my- self. Before I well have drunken, scarce can eat : Drink therefore and the wine will change your will." *' Not so," she cried, by Heaven, I will not drink, Till my dear lord arise and bid me do it, And drink with me ; and if he rise no more, I will not look at wine until I die." At this he turn'd all red and paced his hall, Now gnaw'd his under, now his upper lip, And coming up close to her, said at last ; **Girl, for I see you scorn my courte- sies, GERAmTfiND ENID. Take warning : yonder man is surely dead ; And I compel all creatures to my will. Not eat nor drink? And wherefore wail for one, Who put your beauty to this flout and scorn By dressing it in rags ? Amazed am I, Beholdinghow ye butt against my wish. That I forbear you thus : cross me no more. At least put off to please me this poor gown, This silken rag, this beggar-woman's weed : I love that beauty should go beauti- fully : For see ye not my gentlewomen here, How gay, how suited to the house of one. Who loves that beauty should go beau- tifully ! Rise therefore ; robe yourself in this : obey." He spoke, and one among his gentle- women Display'd a splendid silk of foreign loom, Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue Play'd into green, and thicker down the front With jewels than the sward with drops of dew. When all night long a cloud clings to the hill, And with the dawn ascending lets the day Strike where it clung : so thickly shone the gems. But Enid answer'd, harder to be moved Than hardest tyrants in their day of power. With life-long injuries burning una- venged. And now their hour has come ; and Enid said : " In this poor gown my dear lord found me first, And loved me serving in my father'i hall : In thi-i poor gown I rode with Mm to court, And there the Queen array'd me like the sun : In this poor gown he hade me clothe myself, When now we rode upon this fatal quest , • - Of honor, where no honor can be gain'd : . ^ And this poor gown I will not cast aside Until himself arise a living man, And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough : Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be : I never loved, can never love but him : Yea, God, I pray you of your gentle- ness, He being as he is, to let me be." Then strode the brute Earl up and down his hall. And took his russet beard between his teeth ; Last, coming up quite close, and in his mood Crying, " I count it of no more avail. Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you ; Take my salute," unknightly with flat hand, However lightly, smote her on the cheek. Then Enid, in her utter helpless- ness, And since she thought, " he had not dared to do it. Except he surely knew my lord was dead," Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry, As of a wild thing taken in the trap, Which sees the trapper coming thro' the wood. This heard Geraint, and grasping at his sword, (It lay beside him in the hollow shield,) Made but a single bound, and with a sweep of it Shore thro' the swarthy neck, and like a ball The russet-bearded head roll'd on the floor. i GERAINT AND ENID. 351 So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead. ^ ^ „ And all the men and women in the hall Rose when they saw the dead man rise, and fled Yelling as from a spectre, and the two Were left alone together, and he said : " Enid, I have used you worse than that dead man ; Done you more wrong : we both hav« undergone That trouble which has left me thric* your own : Henceforward I will rather die than doubt. And here 1 lay this penance on myself, Not, tho' mine own ears heard you y ester-morn — You thought me sleeping, but I heard you say, I heard you say, that you were no true wife : I swear I will not ask your meaning in it : I do believe yourself against yourself, And will henceforward rather die than doubt." And Enid could not say one tender word. She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart : She only prayed him, Fly, they will return And slay you : fly, your charger is without. My palf ry lost." " Then, Enid, shall yon ride Behind me." " Yea," said Enid, " let us go." And moving out they found the stately horse. Who now no more a vassal to the thief. But free to stretch its limbs in lawful fight. Neigh'd with all gladness as they came and stoop' d With a low whinny toward the pair ; and she Kiss'd tbe white star upon Ms nobl« front. Glad also ; then Geraint upon the horse Mounted, and reach' d a hand, and oo his foot 352 GERAINT AND ENID, She set het own and climb'd ; he turn'd his face And kiss'd her climbing, and she cast her arms About him, and at once they rode away. And never yet, since high in Para- dise O'er the four rivers the first roses blew, Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind Than lived thro' her, who in that per- ilous hour put hand to hand beneath her hus- band's heart, And felt him hers again : she did not weep, But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist lake that which kept the heart of Eden green Before the useful trouble of the rain : Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyes As not to see before them on the path, Eight in the gateway of the bandit hold, A knight of Arthur's court, who laid his lance In rest, and made as if to fall upon him. Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood, She, with her mind all full of what had chanced, Shriek'd to the stranger, " Slay not a dead man ! " ** The voice of Enid," said the knight; but she, Beholding it was Edyrn, son of Nudd, Was moved so much the more, and shriek'd again, •*0 cousin, slay not him who gave you life." And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake : •*My lord Geraint, I greet vou with all love ; I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm ; And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him. Who love you. Prince, with something of the love Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us. For once, when I was up so high in pride That I was halfway down the slope to Hell, By overthrowing me you threw me higher. Now, made a knight of Arthur's Table Round, And since I knew this Earl, when I my- self Was half a bandit in my lawless hour, I come the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm (The King is close behind me) bidding him Disband himself, ^nd scatter all his powers. Submit, and hear the judgment of the King." He hears the judgment of the King of Kings," Cried the wan Prince ; And lo the powers of Doorm Are scatter' d," and he pointed to the field. Where, huddled here and there on mound and knoll. Were men and women staring and Wliile some yet fled ; and then he plainlier told How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall. But when the knight besought him, Follow me, Prince, to the camp, and in the King's own ear Speak what has chanced; ye surely have endured Strange chances here alone ; " that other flush'd, And hung his head, and halted in re- ply. Fearing the mild face of the blameless King, And after madness acted question Till Edyrn crying, " If ye will not go To Arthur, then will Arthur come to you," "Enough," he said, " I follow," and they went, But Eidd m tneir going had two fears. GERAINT u Dne from the bandit scatter'd in the field, And one from Edyrn. Every now and then, When Edyrn rein'd his charger at her side, She shrank a little. In a hollow land, From which old fires have broken, men may fear Fresh fire and ruin. He, perceiving, said : " Fair and dear cousin, you that most had cause To fear me, fear no longer, I am changed. Yourself were first the blameless cause to make My nature's prideful sparkle in the blood Break into furious flame ; being re- pulsed By Yniol and yourself, I schemed and wrought Until I overturn' d him ; then set up (With one main purpose ever at my heart) My haughty jousts, and took a para- mour ; Did her mock-honor as the fairest fair, And, toppling over all antagonism, So wax'd in pride, that I believed my- self Unconquerable, for I was wellnigh mad : And, but for my main purpose in these jousts, I should have slain your father, seized yourself. I lived in hope that sometime you would come To these my lists with him whom best you loved ; And there, poor cousin, with your meek blue eyes. The truest eyes that ever answer' d heaven, behold me overturn and trample on him. Then, had you cried, or knelt, orpray'd to me, X should not less have kill'd him. And you came, — But once you came,— and with your own true eyes [ND ENID, 363 Beheld the man you loved (I speak as one Speaks of a service done him) over- throw My proud self, and my purpose three years old. And set his foot upon me, and give me life. There was 1 broken down ; there was I saved ; Tho' thence I rode all-shamed, hating the life He gave me, meaning to be rid of it. And all the penance the Queen laid upon me Was but to rest awhile within her court; Where first as sullen as a beast new- caged. And waiting to be treated like a wolf. Because I knew my deeds were known, I found. Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn, Such fine reserve and noble reticence, Manners so kind, yet stately, such a grace Of tenderest courtesy, that I began To glance behind me at my former life, And find that it had been the wolf's indeed : And oft I talk'd with Dubric, the high saint. Who, with mild heat of holy oratory. Subdued me somewhat to that gentle- ness, Which, when it weds with manhood, makes a man. And you were often there about the Queen, But saw me not, or mark'd not if you saw ; Nor did I care or dare to speak with you. But kept myself aloof till I was changed ; And fear not, cousin ; I am changed indeed.'* He spoke, and Enid easily believed, Like simple noble natures, credulous Of what they long for, good in friend or foe. There most in those who most have done them ill. And when they reach'd the camp the King himself 354 GERAINT Advanced to greet them, and behold- ing her Tho' pale, yet happy, ask'd her not a word, But went apart with Edyrn, whom he held In converse for a little, and returned. And, gravely smiling, lifted her from horse. And kiss'd her with all pureness, brother-like, And show'd an empty tent allotted her. And glancing for a minute, till he saw her Pass into it, turn'd to the Prince, and said : Prince, when of late ye pray'd me for my leave To move to your own land and there defend Your marches, I was prick'd with some reproof. As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be. By having look'd too much thro' alien eyes. And wrought too long with delegated hands. Not used mine own : but now behold me come To cleanse this common sewer of all my realm, With Edyrn and with others : have ye look'd At Edyrn? have ye seen how nobly changed ? This work of his is great and wonder- ful. jtfis very face with change of heart is changed. /he world will not believe a man re- pents : And this wise world of ours is mainly right. Full seldom does a man repent, or use Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch Of blood and custom wholly out of him, And make all clean, and plant himself afresh. Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart As 1 will weed this land before I go. AND ENID. I, therefore, made him of our TabU Round, Not rashly, but have proved him every* way One of our noblest, our most valorous. Sanest and most obedient : and indeed This work of Edyrn wrought upon hims-elf After a life of violence, seems to me A thousand-fold more great and won- ful Then if some knight of mine, risking his life, My subject with my subjects under him. Should make an onslaught single on a realm Of robbers, tho' he slew them one by one, And were himself nigh wounded to the death." So spake the King ; low bow'd the Prince, and felt His work was neither great nor won- derful, And past to Enid's tent ; and thither came The King's own leech to look into his hurt ; And Enid tended on him there ; and there Her constant motion round him, and the breath Of her sweet tendance hovering over him, Fill'd all the genial courses of his blood With deeper and with ever deeper love, As the south-west that blowing Bala lake Fills ali the sacred Dee. So past the days. But while Geraint lay healing of his hurt. The blameless King went forth and cast his eyes On each of all whom Uther left in charge Long since, to guard the justice of the King : He look'd and found them wanting; and as now MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 355 Men weed the white horse on the Berk- shire hills To keep him bright and clean as here- tofore, He rooted out the slothful officer Or guilty, which for bribe had wink'd at wrong, And in their chairs set up a stronger race With hearts and hands, and sent a thousand men To till the wastes, and moving every- where Clear'd the dark places and let in the law, And broke the bandit holds and cleansed the land. Then, when Geraint was whole again, they past With Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk. There the great Queen once more em- braced her friend, And clothed her in apparel like the day. And tho' Geraint could never take again That comfort from their converse which he took Before the Queen's fair name was breathed upon. He rested well content that all was well. Thence after tarrying for a space they rode. And fifty kuights rode with them to the shores Of Severn, and they past to their own land. And there he kept the justice of the King So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died : And being ever foremost in the chase, And victor at the tilt and tournament. They call'd him the great Prince and man of men. But Enid, whom her ladies loved to call Enid the Fair, a grateful people named Bnid the Good ; and in their halls arose The cry of children, Enids and Ger- aints Of times to be ; nor did h« doubt her more But rested in her fealty, till he crown'd A happy life with a fair death, and fell Against the heathen of the Northern Sea In battle, fighting for the blameless King. MERLIN AND VIVIEN. A STORM was coming, but the winds were still, And in the wild woods of Broceliande, Before an oak, so hollow huge and old It look'd a tower of ruin'd mason work, At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay. The wily Vivien stole from Arthur's court : She hated all the knights, and heard in thought Their lavish comment when her name was named. For once, when Arthur walking all alone, Vext at a rumor rife about the Queen, Had met her, Vivien, being greeted fair. Would fain have wrought upon his cloudy mood With reverent eyes mock-loyal, shaken voice. And flutter' d adoration, and at last With dark sweet hints of some who prized him more Than who should prize him most ; at which the King Had gazed upon her blankly and gone by : But one had watch'd, and had not held his peace : It made the laughter of one afternoon That Vivien should attempt the blame- less King. And after that, she set herself to gain Him, the most famous man of all those times, Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, Had built the King his havens, ships, and halls. Was also Bard, and knew the starry heavens ; 356 MERLIN AND VIVIEX. The people call'd him Wizard ; whom at first She play'd about with slight and sprightly talk, And vivid smiles, and faintly-venom'd points Of slander, glancing here and gazing there ; And yielding to his kindlier moods, the Seer Would watch her at her petulance, and play. E'en when they seem'd unlovable, and laugh As those that watch a kitten ; thus he grew Tolerant of what he half disdain'd, and she. Perceiving that she was but half dis- dain'd, Began to break her sports with graver fits, Turn red or pale, would often when they met Sigh fully, or all-silent gaze upon him With such a fixt devotion, that the old man, Tho' doubtful, felt the flattery, and at times Would flatter his own wish in age for love, And half believe her true : for thus at times He waver' d ; but that other clung to him, Fixt in her will, and so the seasons went. Then fell upon him a great melan- choly ; And leaving Arthur's court he gain'd the beach ; There found a little boat, and stept into it ; And Vivien follow'd, but he mark'd her not. She took the helm and he the sail ; the boat Drave with a sudden wind across the And touching Breton sand8,they disem- bark'd. And then she follow'd Merlin all the way, Ev'n to the wild woods of Broceliande. For Merlin once had told her of a charm, The which if any wrought on any one With woven paces and with waving arms. The man so wrought on ever seem'd to lie Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower, From which was no escape for ever- more ; And none could find that man for ever- more, Nor could he see but him who wrought the charm Coming and going, and he lay as dead And lost to life and use and name and fame. And Vivien ever sought to work th* charm Upon the great Enchanter of the Time, As fancying, that her glory would be great According to his greatness whom she quench' d. There lay she all her length and kiss*d his feet, As if in deepest reverence and in love. A twist of gold was round her hair ; a robe Of samite without price, that more exprest Than hid her, clung about her lissome limbs, In color like the satin-shining palm On sallows in the windy gleams of March : And while she kiss'd them, crying, " Trample me. Dear feet, that I have follow'd thro* the world. And I will pay you worship ; tread me down And I will kiss you for it ; *' he was mute : So dark a forethought roU'd about his brain. As on a dull day in an Ocean cave The blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall In silence : wherefore, when she lifted up A face of sad appeal, and spake and said. " O Merlin, do ye love me ? again, O Merlin, do ye love me ? " and once more, ''Great Master, do ye love me? "lie was mute. And lissome Vivien, holding by his heel, Writhed toward him, slided up his knee and sat. Behind his ankle twined her hollow feet Together, curved an arm about his neck. Clung like a snake; and letting her left hand Droop from his mighty shoulder, as a leaf. Made with her right a comb of pearl to part The lists of such a beard as youth gone out Had left in ashes : then he spoke and said, Not looking at her, who are wise in love Love most, say least," and Vivien an- swer'd quick, " I saw the little elf-god eyeless once In Arthur's arras hall at Cameiot : But neither eyes nor tongue— O stupid child ! Yet you are wise who say it ; let me think Silence is wisdom : I am silent then And ask no kiss ; " then adding all at once, *' And lo, I clothe myself with wis- dom," drew The vast and shaggy mantle of his beard Across her neck and bosom to her knee, And call'd herself a gilded summer fly Caught in a great old tyrant spider's web. Who meant to eat her up in that wild wood Without one word. So Vivien call'd herself, But rather seem'd a lovely baleful star Veil'd in gray vapor; till he sadly smiled : To what request for what strange boon," he said MERLIN AND VIVIEN. and 357 " Are these your pretty tricks and fool- eries, 0 Vivien,tlie preamble ?yet my thanks, For these have broken up my melan- choly." And Vivien answer*d smiling saucily, " What, O my Master, have ye found your voice ? 1 bid the stranger welcome. Thanks at last ! But yesterday you never open'd lip. Except indeed to drink : no cup had we : In mine own lady palms I cull'd the spring That gather'd trickling dropwise from the cleft. And made a pretty cup of both my hands And off er'd you it kneeling : then ye drank And knew no more, nor gave me one poor word ; O no more thanks than might a goat have given With no more sign of reverence than a beard. And when we halted at that other well, And I was faint to swooning, and ye lay Foot-gilt with all the blossom-dust of those Deep meadows we had traversed, did you know That Vivien bathed your feet before her own ? And yet no thanks : and all thro' this wild wood And all this morning when I fondled you : Boon, yes, there was a boon, one not so strange — How had I wrong'd you ? surely you are wise, But such a silence is more wise than kind." And Merlin lock'd his hand in hers and said ; O did you never lie upon the shore, And watch the curl'd white of the coming wave Glass'd in the slippery sand before it breaks ? 358 MERLm AHi Ev'n such a wave, but not so pleasura- ble, Dark in the glass of some presageful mood. Had I for three days seen, ready to fall. And then I rose and fled from Arthur's court To break the mood. You follow' d me unask'd ; And when I look'd, and saw you follow- ing still. My mind involved yourself the nearest thing In that mind-mist : for shall I tell you truth ? You seem'd that wave about to break upon me And sweep me from my hold upon the world, My use and name and fame. Your pardon, child. Your pretty sports have brighten'd all again. And ask your boon, for boon I owe you thrice, Once for wrong done you by confusion, next For thanks it seems till now neglected, last For these your dainty gambols : where- fore 'ask ; And take this boon so strange and not so strange." And Vivien answer'd smiling mourn- fully ; ** O not so strange as my long asking it, Nor yet so strange as you yourself are strange, Nor half so strange as that dark mood of yours. I ever fear'd ye were not wholly mine ; And see, yourself have own'd ye did me wrong. The people call you prophet : let it be But not of those that can expound themselves. Take Vivien for expounder : she will call That three-day-long presageful gloom of yours No presage, but the same mistrusfnl mood D VIVIEN. That makes you seem less noble than yourself Whenever I have ask'd this very boon, No;lipt away Thro' the dim land ; and all day long we rode Thro' the dim land against a rushing wind, That glorious roundel echoing in our ears, And chased the flashes of his golden horns Until they vanish'd by the fairy well That laughs at iron— as our warriors did— Where children cast their pins and nails, and cry, * Laugh, little well,' but touch it with a sword, It buzzes wildly round the point ; and there We lost him : such a noble song was that. But, Vivien, when you sang me that sweet rhyme, I felt as tho' you knew this cursed charm, Were proving it on me, and that I lay And felt them slowly ebbing, name and fame." And Vivien answer'd smiling mourn- fully ; **0 mine have ebb'd away for ever- more, And all thro' following you to this wila wood, Because I saw you sad, to comfort you. Lo now, what hearts have men ! th«5 never mount As high as woman in her selfless mood. And touching fame, howe'er ye scorn my song, Take one verse more— the lady speaks it— this : ' My name, once mine, now thine, is 'closelier mine. For fame, could fame be mine, that fame were thine, And shame, could shame be thine, that shame were mine. So trust me not at all or all in all.' "Says she not well? and there is more — this rhyme Is like the fair pearl-necklace of the Queen, That burst in dancing, and the pearls were spilt ; Some lost, some stolen, some as relics kept. But nevermore the same two sister pearls Ran down the silken thread to kiss each other On her white neck— so is it with this rhyme : It lives dispersedly in many hands. And every minstrel sings it differ ently ; Yet is there one true line the pearl of pearls ; *Man dreams of Fame while woman wakes to love,' True : Love, tho' Love were of the grossest, carves A portion from the solid present, eats And uses, careless of the rest ; but Fame The Fame that follows death is nothing to us ; And what is Fame in life but half-dis- fame, And counterchanged with darkness? you yourself Know well that Envy calls you Devil's son, And since you seem the Master of all Art, They fain would make you Master of all Vice." And Merlin lock'd his hand in hers and said, MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 361 " I once was looking for a magic weed, And found a fair young squire who sat alone. Had carved himself a knightly shield of wood, And then was painting on it fancied arms, Azure, an Eagle rising or, the Sun In dexter chief ; the scroll ' I follow fame.' And speaking not, but leaning over him, I took his brush and blotted out the bird, And made a Gardener putting in a graff. With this for motto, ' Rather use than fame.' You should have seen him blush ; but afterwards He made a stalwart knight. O Vivien, For you, methinks you think you love me well ; For me, 1 love you somewhat ; rest : and Love Should have some rest and pleasure in himself. Not ever be too curious for a boon. To prurient for a proof against the grain Of him you say you love : but, Fame with men, Being but ampler means to serve man- kind, Should have small rest or pleasure in herself. But work as vassal to the larger love, That dwarfs the petty love of one to one. Use gave me Fame at first, and Fame again Increasing gave me use. Lo, there my boon ! What other ? for men sought to prove me vile. Because I wish'd to give them greater minds : And then^^did Envy call me Devil's son : The sick weak beast seeking to help herself By striking at her better, miss'd, and brought Her own claw back, and wounded her own heart. Sweet were the days when I was aD un- known. But when my name was lifted up, the storm Broke on the mountain and I cared not for it. Rigjit well know I that Fame is half- disfame, Yet needs must work my work. That other fame. To one at least, who hath not children, vague, The cackle of the unborn about the grave, I cared not for it : a single misty star. Which is the second in a line of stars That seem a sword beneath a belt of three, I never gazed upon it but I dreamt. Of some vast charm concluded in that star To make fame nothing. Wherefore, if I fear, Giving you power upon me thro' this charm, That you might play me falsely, having power. However well you think you love me now (As sons of kings loving in pupilage Have turn'd to tyrants when they came to power) I rather dread the loss of use than fame ; If you— and not so much from wicked- ness. As some wild turn of anger, or a mood Of overstrain'd affection, it may be, To keep me all to your own self, or else A sudden spurt of woman's jealousy, — Should try this charm on whom you say you love." And Vivien answer'd smiling as in wrath. " Have I not sworn? I am not tmsted. Good! Well, hide it, hide it; I shall find it out; And being found take heed of Vivien. A woman and not trusted, doubtless I Might feel some sudden turn of anger born Of your misfaith; and your fine epithet Is accurate too, for tMs full love of mine Without the full heart back may merit well Your term of overstrain'd. So used as I, My daily wonder is, I love at all. And as to woman's jealousy, O why not? 0 to what end, except a jealous one, And one to make me jealous if I love. Was this fair charm invented by your- self ? 1 well believe that all about this world Ye cage a buxom captive here and there, Closed in the four walls ot a hoilow tower From which is escape loi ever- more." Then the great Master merrily an- swer' d her. ** Full many a love in loving youth was mine, I needed then no charm to keep them mine But youth and love ; and that full heart of yours Whereof you prattle, may now assure you mine ; So live uncharm'd. For those who wrought it lirst, Tho wrist is parted from the hand that waved, The feet unmortised from their ankle- bones Who paced it ages, back : but will ye hear The legend as in guerdon for your rhyme ? "There lived a king In the most Eastern East, Less old than J, jret older, for my blood Hath earnest in it of far springs to be. A tawny pirate anclior'd in his port, Whose bark had plunder' d twenty nameless isles ; And passing one, at the high peep of dawn, He saw two cities in a thousand boats All fighting for a woman on the sea. i^d pushing his black craft among them all. He lightly scatter d ineirs and Drought her off, With loss of half his people arrow- slain ; A maid so smooth, so white, so wonder- ful. They said a light came from her when she moved : And since the pirate would not yield her up. The King impaled him for his piracy ; Then made her Queen : but those isle- nurtur'd eyes Waged such unwilling tho' successful war On all the youth, they sicken'd ; coun- cils thinn'd, And armies waned, for magnet-lilit: she drew The rustiest iron of old fighters' hearts ; And beasts themselves would worship ; camels knelt Unbidden, and the brutes of mountaiB back That carry kings in castles, bow*£ black knees Of Homage, ringing with their serpent hands. To make her smile, her golden ankle- bells. What wonder, being jealous, that he sent His horns of proclamation out thro' all The hundred under-kingdoms that he sway'd To find a wizard who might teach the King Some charm, which being wrought upon the Queen Might keep her all his own : to such a one He promised more than ever king has has given, A league of mountain fuii oi goidei mines, A province with a hundred miles OL coast, A palace and a princess, all for him : But on all those who tried and fail'd^ the King Pronounced a dismal sentence, mean- ing bv it To keep the list low and pretenden back Or like a king, not to be trifled with— MERLIN AI meir heads should moulder on the city gates. And many tried and f ail'd, because the charm Of nature in her overbore their own : And many a wizard brow bleach'd on the walls : And many weeks a troop of carrion crows Hung like a cloud above the gateway towers." And Vivien breaking in upon him said : I sit and gather honey ; yet, me- thinks, Your tongue has tript a little : ask yourself. The lady never made unwilling war With those fine eyes : she had her pleasure in it, And made her good man jealous with good cause. And lived there neither dame nor dam- sel then "Wroth at a lover's loss? were all as tame, I mean, as noble, as their Queen was fair? Not one to flirt a venom at her eyes, Or pinch a murderous dust into her drink, Or make her paler with a poison'd rose? Well, those were not our days : but did they find A wizard? Tell me, was he like to thee?" She ceased, and made her lithe arm round his neck Tighten, and then drew back, and let her eyes Speak for her, glowing on him, like a bride's On her new lord, her own, the first of men. He answer' d laughing, ''Nay, not like to me. At last they found— his foragers for charms— A little glassy-headed hairless man. Who lived alone in a great wild on grass; D VIVIEN 363 Read but one book, and ever reading grew So grated down and filed away with thought, • So lean his eyes were monstrous ; while the skin Clung but to crate and basket, ribs and spine. And since he kept his mind on one sole aim. Nor ever touch'd fierce wine, nor tasted flesh, Nor own'd a sensual wish, to him the wall That sunders ghosts and shadow-cast- ing men Became a crystal, and he saw them thro' it. And heard their voices talk behind the wall, And learnt their elemental secrets, powers And forces ; often o'er the sun's bright eye Drew the vast eyelid of an inky cloud. And lash'd it at the base with slanting storm ; Or in the noon of mist and driving rain, When the lake whiten'd and the pme- wood roar'd, And the cairn'd mountain was a shadow, sunn'd The world to peace again : here was the man. And so by force they dragg'd him to the King. And then he taught the King to charm the Queen In such-wise, that no man could see her more. Nor saw she save the King, who wrought the charm, Coming and going, and she lay as dead. And lost all use of life : but when the King Made proffer of the league of golden mines. The province wifh a hundred miles of coast, The palace and the princess, that old man Went back to his old wild, and lived on grass, St4 MERLIN AND VIVIEN. And vanish'd, and his book came down to me." And V^ivien answer'd smiling saucily ; You have the book : the charm is written in it : Good : take my counsel : let me know it at once : For keep it like a puzzle chest in chest, With each chest lock'd and padlock'd thirty-fold, And whelm all this beneath as vast a mound As after furious battle turfs the slain On some wild down above the windy deep, I yet should strike upon a sudden means To dig, pick, open, find and read the charm : Then, if I tried it, who should blame me then?" And smiling as a Master smiles at one That is not of his school, nor any school But that where blind and naked Ignor- ance Delivers brawling judgments, un- ashamed. On all things all day long ; he answer'd her. ** You read the book, my pretty Viv- ien ! O ay, it is but twenty pages long, But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot. The text no larger than the limbs of fleas : And every square of text an awful charm. Writ in a language that has long gone So long, that mountains have arisen since With cities on their flanks— 2/o?<^ read the book ! iA.nd every margin scribbled, crost, and cramm'd With comment, densest condensation, hard To mind and eye ; but the long sleep- less nights Of my long life have made it easy to me. And none can read the text, not even I; And none can read the comment but myself ; And in the comment did I find tba charm. O, the results are simple ; a mere chil Might use it to the harm of any one. And never could undo it : ask no more: For tho' you should not prove it upon me, But keep, that oath you swore, you might, perchance. Assay it on some one of the Table Round, And all because you dream they babble of you." And Vivien, frowning in true anger, said : V/hat dare the full-fed liars say of me ? They ride abroad redressing human wrongs ! They sit with knife in meat and wine in horn. They bound to holy vows of chastity ! Were I not woman, I could tell a tale. But you are man, you well can under- stand The shame that cannot be explain 'd for shame. Not one of all the drove should touch me : swine ! " Then answer'd Merlin careless of her words. " Ye breathe but accusation vast and vague, Spleen-born, I think, and proofless. If ye know. Set up the charge ye know, to stand or fall ' " And Vivien answer'd frowning wrathfully. O ay, what say ye to Sir Valence, him Whose kinsman left him watcher o'er his wife And two fair babes, and went to dis- tant lands ; Was one year gone, and on returning found Not two but three : there lay the reck- ling, one But one hour old ! What said the happy sire ? A seven months' babe had been a truer gift. Those twelve sweet moons confused his fatherhood." Then answer'd Merlin Nay, I know the tale. Sir Valence wedded with an outland dame : Some cause had kept him sunder' d from his wife : One child they had : it lived with her: she died : His kinsman travelling on his own affair "Was charged by Valence to bring home the child. He brought, not found it therefore : take the truth." "O ay," said Vivien, " overtrue a tale. What say ye then to sweet Sir Sagra- more, That ardent man ? * to pluck the flower in season ; * So says the song, < I trow it is no trea- son.' 0 Master, shall we call him overqnick To crop his own sweet rose before the hour?" And Merlin answer'd " Overquick are you To catch a lothly plume f all'n from the wing Of that foul bird of rapine whose whole prey Is man's good name : he never wrong'd his bride. 1 know the tale. An angry gust of wind Puff 'd out his torch among the myriad room'd And many-corridor 'd complexities Of Arthur's palace : then he found a door And darkling felt the sculptured orna- ment That wreathen round it made it seem his own ; And wearied out made for the couch and slept, MERLIN AND VIVIEN. A 365 besides a stainlesB stainless man maid ; And either slept, nor knew of othei there ; Till the high dawn piercing^the royal rose ^ Jn Arthur's casement glimmer'd chastely down, Blushing upon them blushing, and at once He rose without a word and parted from her : But when the thing was blazed about the court. The brute world howling forced them into bonds, And as it chanced they are happy, being pure." O ay," said Vivien, that were like- ly too. What say ye then to fair Sir Percivale And of the horrid foulness that he wrought. The saintly youth, the spotless lamb of Christ, Or some black wether of St. Satan's fold. What, in the precincts of the chapel- yard, Among the knightly brasses of the graves. And by the cold Hie Jacets of the dead ! " And Merlin answer'd careless of her charge, " A sober man is Percivale and pure ; But once in life was fluster' d with new wine, Then paced for coolness in the chapel- yard ; Where one of Satan's shepherdesses caught And meant to stamp him with her master's mark ; And that he sinn'd, is not believable ; For, look upon his face ! — but if he sinn'd, The sin that practice burns into the blood, And not the one dark hour which brings remorse, Will brand us, after, of whose fold w« be : MERLIN 4ND VIVIEN. Or else were he, the holy king, whose hymns A-re chanted in the minster, worse than all. But is your spleen froth'd out, or have ye more ? " And Vivien answer' d frowning yet in wrath ; O ay ; what say ye to Sir Lancelot, friend ? Traitor or true ? that commerce with the Queen, I ask you, is it clamor'd by the child, Or whisper' d in the corner ? do you know it ?" To which he answer'd sadly, Yea, I know it. Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at first, To fetch her, and she took him for the King ; So fixt her fancy on him : let him be. But have you no one word of loyal praise For Arthur, Jblameless King and stain- less man ? " She answer'd with a low and chuck- ling laugh ; * Him ? 18 he man at all, who knows and winks ? Sees what his fair bride is and does, and winks ? By which the good king means to blind himself, And blinds himself and all the Table Round To all the foulness that they work. Myself Could call him (were it not for woman- hood) The pretty, popular name such man- hood earns. Could call him the main cause of all their crime ; Yea, were he not crown'd king, coward, and fool." Then Merlin to his own heart, loath- ing, said ; " O true and tender ! O my liege and king ! O selfless man and stainless gentleman, Who wouldst against thine own eye- witness fain Have all men true and leal, all women pure ; How, in the mouths of base interpre- ters. From over-fineness not intelligible To things with every sense as false and foul As the poach'd filth that floods the middle street. Is thy white blamelessness accounted blame ! '* But Vivien deeming Merlin over- borne By instance, recommenced, and let her tongue Rage like a tire among the noblest names. Polluting, and imputing her whole self, Defaming and defacing, till she left Not even Lancelot brave, nor Galahad clean. Her words had issue other than she will'd. He dragg'd his eyebrow bushes down, and made A snowy penthouse for his hollow eyes. Andmutter'd in himself, tell her the charm ! So, if she had it, would she rail on me To snare the next, and if she have it not. So will she rail. What did the wan- ton say ? ' Not mount as high ; ' we scarce can sink as low : For men at most differ as Heaven and earth, But women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell. I know the Table Round, my friends of old ; All brave, and many generous, and some chaste. I think she cloaks the wounds of loss with lies ; I do believe she tempted them and fail'd, She is so bitter : for fine plots may fail. Tho' harlots paint their talk as well as face With colors of the heart that are not theirs. MERLIN Al I will not let her know : nine tithes of times Face*flatterers and backbiters are the same. And they, sweet soul, that most im- pute a crime Are pronest to it, and impute them- selves, Wanting the mental range ; or low desire Not to feel lowest makes them level all ; Yea, they would pare the mountain to the plain, To leave an equal baseness ; and in this Are harlots like the crowd, that if they find Some stain or blemish in a name of note. Not grieving that their greatest are so small, Inflate themselves with some insane delight, And judge all nature from her feet of clay, Without the will to lift their eyes, and see Her godlike head crown'd with spirit- ual fire, And touching other worlds. I am weary of her." He spoke in words part heard, in whispers part, Half -suffocated in the hoary fell And many-winter'd fleece of throat and chin. But Vivien, gathering somewhat of his mood. And hearing harlot " mutter'd twice or thrice. Leapt from her session on his lap, and stood Stiff as a viper frozen ; loathsome sight, How from the rosy lips of life and love, Flash'd the bare-grinning skeleton of death ! White was her cheek ; sharp breaths of anger puff 'd Her fairy nostril out ; her hand half- clench 'd Went faltering sideways downward to her belt. And feeling ; had she found a dagger there VIVIEN, 367 (For in a wink the false love turns to hate) She would have stabb'd him ; but she found it not : His eye was calm, and suddenly she took To bitter weeping like a beaten child, A long, long weeping, not consolable. Then her false voice made way broken with sobs " O crueller than was ever told in tale. Or sung in song ! O vainly lavish'd love ! 0 cruel, there was nothing wild or strange, Or seeming shameful, for what shame in love So love be true, and not as yours is — nothing Poor Vivien had not done to win his trust Who call'd her what he call'd her— all her crime. All — all — the vdsh to prove him wholly hers." She mused a little, and then clapt her hands Together with a wailing shriek, and said : "Stabb'd through the heart's affec tions to the heart I Seethed like the kid in its own mother's milk ! Kill'd with a word worse than a life ©f blows ! 1 thought that he was gentle, being great : 0 God, that I had loved a smaller man! 1 should have found in him a greater heart. O, I, that flattering my true passion, saw The knights, the court, the king, dark in your light. Who love to make men darker than they are, Because of that high pleasure which I had To seat you sole upon my pedestal Of worship — I am answer'd, and hence- forth The course of life that seem'd sa flowery to me 368 MERLIN A. With you for guide and master, only you, Becomes the sea-cliff pathway broken short. And ending in a ruin — nothing left, But into some low cave to crawl, and there. Xf the wolf spare me, weep my life away, Kill'd with inutterable unkindliness." She paused, she turn'd away, she hung her head, The snake of gold slid from her hair, the braid Slipt and uncoil'd itself, she wept afresh. And the dark wood grew darker toward the storm In silence, while his anger slowly died Within him, till he let his wisdom go For ease of heart, and half believed her true : Call'd her to shelter in the hollow oak, »' Come from the storm " and having no reply, Gazed at the heaving shoulder, and the face Hand-hidden, as for utmost grief or shame ; Th^n thrice essay'd, by tenderest- touching terms To sleek her ruffled peace of mind, in vain. At last she let herself be conquer'd by him. And as the cageling newly flown re- turns. The seeming -injured simple-heart el thing Came to her old perch back, and settled there. There while she sat, half-falling from his knees, Half-nestled at his heart, and since he saw The slow tear creep from her closed eyelid yet. About her, more in kindness than in love. The gentle wizard cast a shielding arm. But she dislink'd herself at once and rose Her arms upon her breast across, and stood TD VIVIEN. A virtuous gentlewoman deeply wrong' d, Upright and flush'd before him : then she said : There must be now no passages of love Betwixt us twain henceforward ever- more. Since, if I be what I am grossly call'd, What should be granted which your own gross heart Would reckon worth the taking? 1 will go. In truth, but one thing now— better have died Thrice than have ask'd it once— could make me stay — That proof of trust — so often asked in vain ! How justly, after that vile term of yours, I find with grief ! I might believe you then, Who knows ? once more. O, what was once to me Mere matter of the fancy, now has grown The vast necessity of heart and life. Farewell ; think kindly of me, for I fear My fate or fault, omitting gayer youth For one so old, must be to love you still. But ere I leave you let me swear once more That if I schemed against your peace in this, May yon just heaven, that darkens o'er me, send One flash, that, missing all things else, may make My scheming brain a cinder, if I lie." Scarce had she ceased, when out of heaven a bolt (For now the storm was close above them) struck. Furrowing a giant oak, and javelining With darted spikes and splinters of the wood The dark earth round. He raised his eyes and saw The tree that shone white-listed thro' the gloom. LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 369 But Vivien, fearing heaven had heard her oath, And dazzled by the livid flickering fork, And deafen'd with the stammering cracks and claps That follow 'd, flying back and crying out, **0 Merlin, tho' you do not love me, save, Yet save me ! " clung to him and hugg'd him close ; And call'd him dear protector in her fright. Nor yet forgot her practice in her fright, But wrought upon his mood and hugg'd him close. The pale blood of the wizard at her touch Took gayer colors, like an opal warm'd. She blamed herself for telling hearsay tales : She shook from fear, and for her fault she wept Of petulancy ; she call'd him lord and leige, Her seer, her bard, her silver star of eve, Her God, her Merlin, the one passion- ate love Of her whole life ; and ever overhead Bellow'd the tempest, and the rotten branch Snapt in the rushing of the river rain Above them ; and m change of glare and gloom Her eyes and neck glittering went and came ; Till now the storm, its burst of passion spent. Moaning and calling out of other lands, Had left the ravaged woodland yet once more To peace ; and what should not have been had been. For Merlin, overtalk'd and overworn, Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept. Then, in one moment, she put forth the charm Of woven paces and of waving hands. And in the hollow oak he lay as dead, And lost to life and use and name and fame. 24 Then crying I have made his glory mine.'' And shrieking out " O fool ! " the har- lot leapt Adown the forest, and the thicket closed Behind her, and the forest echo'd "fool." LANCELOT AND ELAINE. Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, High in her chamber up a tower to the east Guarded the sacred shield of Lance- lot ; Which flrst she placed where morn- ing's earliest ray Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam ; Then fearing rust or soilure f ashion'd for it A case of silk, and braided thereupon All the devices blazon 'd on the shield In their own tinct, and added, of her wit, A border fantasy of branch and flower, And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. Nor rested thus content, but day by day Leaving her household and good father climb'd That eastern tower, and entering barr'd her door, Stript off the case, and read the naked shield, Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his arms. Now made a pretty history to herself Of every dint a sword had beaten in it. And every scratch a lance had made upon it, Conjecturing when and where : this cut is fresh ; That ten years back ; this dealt him at Caerlyle : That at Caerleon ; this at Camelot •. And ah God's mercy what a stroke was there ! And here a thrust that might have kill'd, but God 370 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. Broke the strong lance, and roll'd his enemy down, And saved him : so she lived in fan- tasy. How came the lily maid by that good shield Of Lancelot, she that knew not ev'n his name ? He left it with her, when he rode to tilt For the great diamond in the diamond jousts. Which Arthur had ordain'd, and by that name Had named them, since a diamond was the prize. For Arthur long before they crown'd him king, Roving the trackless realms of Lyon- nesse, Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn . A horror lived about the tarn, and clave Like its own mists to all the mountain side : For here two brothers, one a king, had met And fought together ; but their names were lost. And each had slain his brother at a blow, And down they fell and made the glen abhorr'd : And there they lay till all their bones were bleach'd, And lichen'd into color with the crags: And he, that once was king, had on a crown Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside. And Arthur came, and laboring up the pass All in a misty moonshine, unawares Had trodden that crown'd skeleton, and the skull Brake from the nape, and from the skull the crown Roll'd into light, and turning on its rims Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn : And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught, And set it on his head, and in his heart Heard murmurs "lo, thou likewise Shalt be king." Thereafter, when a king, he had the gems Pluck'd from the crown, and show'd them to his knights, Saying ''these jewels, whereupon I chanced Divinely, are the kingdom's not the king's — For public use : henceforward let there be, Once every year, a joust for one of these : For so by nine years' proof we needs must learn Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow In use of arms and manhood, till we drive The Heathen, who, some say, shall rule the land Hereafter, which God hinder." Thus he spoke : And eight years past, eight jousts had been, and still Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year, With purpose to present them to the Queen, When all were won ; but meaning all at once To snare her royal fancy with a boon Worth half her realm, had never spoken word. Now for the central diamond and the last And largest, Arthur, holding then his court Hard on the river nigh the place which now Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh Spake (for she had been sick) to Guine- vere " Are you so sick, my Queen, you can- not move To these fair jousts?" "Yea, lord,** she said '' ye know it." Then will ye miss," he answer'd, '' the great deeds LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 371 Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists, A sight ye love to look on." And the Queen Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt lan- guidly On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King. He thinking that he read her meaning there, Stay with me, I am sick ; my love is more Than many diamonds," yielded, and a heart, Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen (However much he yearn'd to make complete The tale of diamonds for his destined boon) Urged him to speak against the truth, and say, "Sir King, mine ancif^nt wound is hardly whole. And lets me from the saddle ; " and the King Glanced first at him, then her, and went his way. No sooner gone than suddenly she be- gan. ''To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, much to blame. Why go ye not to these fair jousts ? the knights Are half of them our enemies, and the crowd Will murmur, lo the shameless ones, who take Their pastime now the trustful king is gone ! " Then Lancelot vext at having lied in vain : Are ye so wise ? ye were not once so wise. My Queen, that summer, when ye loved me first. Then of the crowd ye took no more ac- count Than of the myriad cricket of the mead, When its own voice clings to eacli blade of grass, And every voice is nothing. As to ' knights. Them surely can I silence with all ease. But now my loyal worship is allow'd Of all men : many a bard, without of- fence, Has link'd our names together in his lay, Lancelot, the flower of bravery, Guine- vere, The pearl of beauty : and our knights at feast Have pledged us in this union, while the king Would listen smiling. How then? is there more ? Has Arthur spoken aught? or wouid yourself. Now weary of my service and devoir. Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord?" into little scornful She broke laugh. " Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the fault- less King, That passionate perfection, my good lord- But who can gaze upon the Sun in heaven ? He never spake word of reproach to me. He never had a glimpse of mine un- truth, He cares not for me : only here to-day There gleam'd a vague suspicion in his eyes : Some meddling rogue has tamper'd with him— else Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, And swearing men to vows impossible, To make them like himself: but, friend, to me He is all fault who hath no fault at all : For who loves me must have a touch of earth ; The low sun makes the color: I am yours, Not Arthur's, as ye know s»ve by the bond. And therefore hear my words : go to the jousts : The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream Wiien sweetest ; a»id th<» verD^ia voices here LANCELOT AND ELAINE. P»iay buzz so loud— we scorn them, but they sting." Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights. *'And with what face, after my pre- text made, Shall I appear, O Queen, at Camelot, I Before a king who honors his own word. As if it were his God's ? " " Yea," said the Queen, " A moral child without the craft to rule, Else liad he not lost me : but listen to lue. If I must find you wit : we hear it said That men go down before your spear at a touch But knowing you are Lancelot ; your great name, This conquers : hide it therefore ; go unknown : Win ! by tliis kiss you will : and our true king Will then allow your pretext, O my knight. As all lor glory ; for to speak him true. Ye know right well, how meek soe'er he seem, No keener hunter after glory breathes. He loves it in his knights more than himself • They prove to him his work ; win and return." Then got Sir Lancelot suddenly to horse, Wroth at himself : not willing to be known. He left the barren-beaten thorough- fare, Chose the green path that show'd the rarer foot. And there among the solitary downs, Full often lost in fancy, lost his way ; Till as he traced a faintly-shadow'd track. That all in loops and links among the dales Ran to the Castle of Astolat, he saw Fired from the west, far on a hill, the towers. Thither he made and wound the gate- way horn. Then came an old, dumb, myriad- wrinkled man, Who let him into lodging and dis- arm'd. And Lancelot marvell'd at the word- less man ; And issuing found the Lord of Astolat With two strong sons. Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, Moving to meet him in the castle court ; And close behind them stept the lily maid Elaine, his daughter : mother of the house There was not : some light jest among them rose With laughter dying down as the great knight Approach'd them : then the Lord of Astolat. Whence^ comest thou, my guest, and by what name Livest between the lips? for by thy state And presence I might guess thee chief of those, After the king, who eat in Arthur's hallo. Him have I seen : the rest, his Table Round, Known as they are, to me they are un- known." Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights. Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, and known, What I by mere mischance have brought, my shield. But since 1 go to joust as one unknown At Camelot for the diamond, ask me not, Hereafter you shall know me— and the shield— I pray you lend me one, if such you have, Blank, or at least with some device not mine." Then said the Lord of Astolat, " Here is Torre's : Hurt in his first tilt was my son, Sir Torre. And so, God wot, his shield is blank enough. LANCELOT 2 His ye can hare." Then added plain Sir Torre, Yea since I cannot use it, ye may have it." Here laugh'd the father saying " Fie, Sir Churl, Is that an answer for a noble knight ? Allow him : but Lavaine, my younger here, He is so full of lustihood, he will ride Joust for it, and win, and bring it in an hour And set it in this damsel's golden hair, To make her thrice as wilful as be- fore." " Nay, father, nay good father, shame me not Before this noble knight " said young Lavaine "For nothing. Surely I but play'd on Torre : He seem'd so sullen, vext he could not go : A jest, no more : for, knight, the maid- en dream. That some one put this diamond in her hand, And that it was too slippery to be held, And slipt and fell into some pool or stream, The castle-well, belike ; and then I said That tf\ went and ?/I fought and won it (But all was jest and joke among our- selves) Then must she keep it saf elier. All was jest. But father give me leave, and if he will, To ride to Camelot with this noble knight : Win shall I not, but do my best to win: Young as I am, yet would I do my best." "So ye will grace me," answer'd Lancelot, Smiling a moment, " with your fellow- ship O'er these waste downs whereon I lost myself. Then were I glad of you as guide and friend ; And you shall win this diamond— as I hear. It is a fair large diamond,— if ye may ; ND ELAINE. 373 And yield it to this maiden, if ye will." "A fair large diamond," added plain Sir Torre, " Such be for Queens and not for sim- ple maids." Then she, who held her eyes upon the gi'ound, Elaine, and heard her name so tost about, Flush' d slightly at the slight disparage- ment Before the stranger knight, who, look- ing at her. Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus re- turn'd. " If what is fair be but for what is fair, And only Queens are to bo counted so, Rash were my judgment then, who deem this maid Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth, Not violating the bond of like to like. He spoke and ceased : the lily maid Elaine, Won by the mellow voice before she look'd, Lifted her eyes, and read his linea- ments. The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, In battle with the love he bare his lord, Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his time. Another sinning on such heights with one. The flower of all the west and all the world, Had been the sleeker of it : but in him His mood was often like a tiend, and rose And drove him into wastes and soli- tudes For agony, who was yet a living soul. Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the good- liest man, That ever among ladies ate in Hall, And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes However marr'd, of more than twice her years, Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the cheek, And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes 374 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. And loved Mm, with that love which was her doom. Then the great knight, the darliiig of the court, Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall Stept with all grace, and not with half disdain Hid under grace, as in a smaller time. But kindly man moving among his kind : Whom they with meats and vintage of their best And [talk and minstrel melody enter- tain'd. And much they ask'd of court and Table Round, And ever well and readily answer'd he : But Lancelot, when they glanced at Guinevere, Suddenly speaking of the wordless man, Heard from the Baron that, ten years before. The heathen caught and reft him of his tongue. "He learnt and warn^i me of their fierce design Against my house, and him they caught and maim'd ; But I my sons and little daughter fled From bonds of death, and dwelt among the woods By the great river in a boatman's hut. Dull days were those, till our good Arthur broke The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill." " O there, great Lord, doubtless," Lavaine said, rapt By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth. Toward greatness in its elder, " you have fought. O tell us — for we live apart — you know Of Arthur's glorious wars." And Lan- celot spoke And answer'd him at full, as having been With Arthur in the tight which all day long Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem ; And in the four wild battles by the Bhore Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war That thunder'd in and out the gloomy skirts Of Celidon the forest ; and again By castle Gurnion where the glorious King Had on his cuirass worn our Lady'* Head, Carved on one emerald, center'd in & sun Of silver rays, that lighten'd as he breathed ; And at Caerieon had he help'd his lord. When the strong neighings of the wilq white Horse Set every gilded parapet shuddering ; And up in Agned Cathregonion too. And down the waste sand-shores of Trath Treroit, Where many a heathen fell ; ** and oa the mount Of Badon I myself beheld the King Charge at the head of all his Table Round, And all his legions crying Christ and him, And break them ; and I saw him, after, stand High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume Red as the rising sun with heathen blood. And seeing me, with a great voice he cried * They are broken, they are broken, foi" the King, However mild he seems at home, noi cares For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts— For if his own knight cast him down, he laughs Saying, his knights are better men than Yet in this heathen war the fire of God Fills him : I never saw his like : there lives No greater leader. While he utter'd this, Low to her own heart said the lily maid Save your great self, fair lord ; " and when he fell From talk of war to traits of pleasan try- LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 375 Being mirthful he but in a stately kind — She still took note that when the living smile Died from his lips, across him came a cloud Of melancholy severe, from' which again, Whenever in her hovering to and fro The lily maid had striven to make him cheer, There brake a sudden-beaming tender- ness Of manners and of nature, and she thought That all was nature, all, perchance, for her. And all that night long his face before her lived, As when a painter, poring on a face. Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face. The shape and color of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best And fullest; so the face before her lived. Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full Of noble things, and held her from her sleep. Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. First as in fear, step after step, she stole Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating: Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, This shield, my friend, where is it ? and Lavaine Past inward, as she came from out the tower. There to his proud horse Lancelot turn'd, and smooth'd The glossy shoulder, humming to him- self. Half -envious of the flattering hand, she drew Nearer and stood. He look'd, and more amazed Then if seven men had set upon him, saw The maiden standing in the dewy light. I He had not dreamed she was so beauti- ful. Then came on him a sort of sacred fear. For silent, tho' he greeted her, she stood Kapt on his face as if it were a God's. Suddenly flash'd on her a wild desire, That he should wear her favor at the tilt. She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. " Fair lord, whose name I know not- noble it is, I well believe, the noblest— will you wear My favor at this tourney?" *' Nay,'* said he, " Fair lady, since I never yet have worn Favor of any lady in the lists. Such is my wont, as those, who know me, know." '*Yea, so," she answer'd; "then in wearing mine Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord. That those who know should know you." And he turn'd Her counsel up and down within his mind, And found it true, and answer'd, true, my child. Well, I will wear it : fetch it out to me: What is it ? " and she told him *' a red sleeve Broider'd with pearls," and broughtit: then he bound Her token on his helmet, with a smile Saying, '*I never yet have done so much For any maiden living," and the blood Sprang to her face and fiU'd her with delight : But left her all the paler, when Lavaine Returning brought the yet-unblazon'd shield. His brother's ; which he gave to Lance- lot, Who parted with his own to fair Elaine ; Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield In keeping till 1 come." A grace to me," She answer'd, " twice to-day. I am your Squire." Whereat Lavaine said, laughing, " Lily maid, 376 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. For fear our people call you lily maid In earnest, let be bring your color back; Once, twice, and thrice : now get you hence to bed : " So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his own hand, And thus they moved away ; she stay'd a minute, Then made a sudden step to the gate, and there — Her bright hair blown about the seri- ous face Yet rosy-kindled with her brother's kiss — Paused in the gateway, standing by the shield In silence, while she watch'd their arms far-off Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs. Then to her tower she climb'd, and took the shield, There kept it, and so lived in fantasy. Meanwhile the two companions past away [downs, Far o'er the long backs of the bushless To where Sir Lancelot knew there lived a knight Not far from Camelot, now for forty years A hermit, who had pray'd, labor'd and pray'd And ever laboring had scoop'd himself In the white rock a chapel and a hall On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave, And cells and chambers : all were fair and dry ; The green light from the meadows un- derneath Struck up and lived along the milky roofs ; And in the meadows tremulous aspen- trees And poplars made a noise of falling showers. And thither wending there that night they bode . But when the next day broke Irom undergrown, And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave, They rose, heard masG, broke fast, and rode away : Then Lancelot saying, " hear, but hold my name Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake," Abaaii'd Lavaine, whose instant rever- ence. Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise, But left him leave to stammer, "is it indeed? " And after muttering the great Lance- lot " At last he got his breath and answer'd " One, One have I seen — that other, our liege lord. The dread Pendragon, Britain's king of kings, Of whom the people talk mysteriously, He will be there — then were I stricken blind That minute, I might say that I had seen." So spake Lavaine, and when they reach' d the lists By Camelot in the meadow, let his eyes Run thro' the peopled gallery which half round Lay like a rainbow fall'n upon the Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat Robed in red samite, easily to be known Since to his crown the golden dragon clung, And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold. And from the carven-work behind him crept Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them Thro' knots and loops and folds innu- merable Fled ever thro' the woodwork, till they found The new design wherein they lost them- Yet with ali ease, so tender was tho work : And, in the costljr canopy o'er him set, Blazed the last diamond of the name- less king. Z.ANCELOT AND ELAINE, Then Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine and said, Me you call great : mine is the firmer seat, The truer lance : 'but there is many a youth Now crescent, who will come to all I am And overcome ii ; and in me there dwells No greatness, save it be some far-off touch Of greatness to know well I am not great : There is the man." And Lavaine gaped upon him As on a thing miraculouH., and anon The trumpets blew; and then did either side, They that assail'd, and they that held the lists, Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move. Meet an the midst, and there so furi- ously Shock, that a man far-oif might well perceive, If any man that day were left afield, The hard earth shake, and a low thun- der of arms. And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw Which were the weaker; then he hurl'd into it Against the stronger : little need to speak Of Lancelot in his glory : King, duke, earl, Count, baron — whom he smote, he overthrew. But in the field were Lancelot's kith and kin, Ranged with the Table Round that held the lists. Strong men, and wrathful that a stran- ger knight Should do and almost overdo the deeds Of Lancelot ; and one said to the other Lo ! What is he ? I do not mean the force alone. The grace and versatility of the man — Is it not Lancelot ! " " When has Lan- celot worn t'avor of any lady in the lists ? 37T as we, who know Not such his wont, him, know." How then ? who then ? " a fury seized on them, A fiery family passion for the name Of Lancelot, and a glory one with theirs. They couch' d their spears and prick'd their steeds and thus, Their plumes driv'n backward by the wind they made In moving, all together down upon him Bare, as a wild wave in the wide North- sea, Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, And him that helms it, so they over- bore Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear Down-glancing, lamed the charger, and a spear Prick'd sharply his own cuirass, and the head Pierced thro' his side, and there snapt, and remain' d. Then Sir Lavaine did well and wor shipfully ; He bore a knight of old repute to the earth. And brought his horse to Lancelot where he lay. He up the side, sweating with agony, got. But thought to do while he might yet endure, And being lustily holpen by the rest, His party, — tho' it seemed half -mir- acle To those he fought with — drave his kith and kin. And all the Table Round that held the lists. Back to the barrier ; then the herald* blew Proclaiming his the prize, who wore the sleeve Of scarlet, and the pearls ; and all the knights, 378 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. His party, cried Advance, and take your prize The diamond ; '* but lie answer'd, " diamond me Ko diamonds ! for God's love, a little air ! Prize me no prizes, for my prize is death ! Hence will I and I charge you, follow me not." He spoke, and vanish' d suddenly from the field With young Lavaine into the poplar grove. There from his charger down he slid, and sat, Gasping to Sir Lavaine, <*draw the lance-head : " Ah my sweet lord Sir Lancelot," said Lavaine, " I dread me, if I draw it, ye shall die." But he I die already with it : draw — Draw," — and Lavaine drew, and that other gave A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan. And half his blood burst forth, and down he sank For the pure pain, and wholly swoon'd away. Then came the hermit out and bare him in, There stanch'd his wound ; and there, in daily doubt Whether to live or die, for many a week Hid from the wide world's rumor by the grove Of poplars with their noise of falling showers, And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he lay. But on that day when Lancelot fled the lists, His party, knights of utmost North a,nd West, Lords of waste marches, kings of deso- late isles, Came round their great Pendragon, saying to him •* Lo, Sire, our knight thro* whom we won the day Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left his prize Untaken, crying that his prize is death." "Heaven hinder," said the King, " that i'uch an one. So great a knight as we have seen to- day- He seem'd to me another Lancelot — Yea, twenty times I thought him Lance lot- He must not pass uncared for. Where- fore rise, 0 Gawain, and ride forth and find the knight. Wounded and wearied needs must he be near. 1 charge you that you get at once to horse. And, knights and kings, there breathes not one of you Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given : His prowess was too wondrous. We will do him No customary honor : since the knight Came not to us, of us to claim the prize, Ourselves will send it after. Rise and take This diamond, and deliver it, and re- turn, And bring us where he is and how he And cease not from your quest, unti) you find." So saying from the carven flowex above, To which it made a restless heart, h^ took, And gave, the diamond : then from where he sat At Arthur's right, with smiling fac6 arose. With smiling face and frowning heart, a Prince In the mid might and flourish of hit May, Gawain, surnamed The Courteous, fair and strong. And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Ge- raint And Lamorack, a good knight, but therewithal LAN-CELOT J SirModred's brother, of a crafty house, INor often loyal to his word, and now Wroth that the king's command to sally forth In quest of whom he knew not, made him leave The banquet, and concourse of knights and kings. So all in wrath he got to horse and went ; While Arthur to the banquet, dark in mood, i^ast, thinking " is it Lancelot who has come Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain Of glory, and has added wound to wound, And ridd'n away to die?'* So fear'd the King, And, after two days' tarriance there, return'd. Then wlien he saw the Queen, embrac- ing, ask'd, •* Love, are you yet so sick ?" Nay, lord," she said. •* And where is Lancelot ? " Then the Queen amazed •* Was he not with you ? won he not your prize ? " Nay, but one like him." " Why that like was he." And when the King demanded how she knew, Said * ' Lord, no sooner had ye parted from us, Than Lancelot told me of a common talk That men went down before his spear at a touch, But knowing he was Lancelot; his great name Conquer' d ; and therefore would he hide his name From all men, ev'n the king, and to this end Had made the pretext of a hindering wound. That he might joust unknown of all, and learn If his old prowess was In aught de- cay' d : And added, ' our true Arthur, wheniw leamsy ND ELAINE, 378 Will well allow my pretext, as for gaia of purer glory.' " Then replied the King : " Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been. In lieu of idly dallying with the truth. To have trusted me as he has trustecl you. Surely his king and most familiar friend Might well have kept his secret. True, indeed. Albeit 1 know my knights fantastical. So tine a fear in our large Lancelot Must needs have moved my laughter : now remains But little cause for laughter ; his own kin — 111 news, my Queen, for all who love him, these ! His kith and kin, not knowing, set upon him ; So that he went sore wounded from the field : Yet good news too : for goodly hopes are mine That Lancelot is no more a lonely heart. He wore, against his wont, upon hia helm A sleeve of scarlet, broidered with great pearls, Some gentle maiden's gift." Yea, lord," she said, " Your hopes are mine," and saying that she choked, And sharply turii'd about to hide her face, Past to her chamber, and there flung herself Down on the great King's couch, and writhed upon it, And clench' d her fingers till they bit the palm, And shriek'd out traitor " to the un- hearing wall. Then flash' d into wild tears, and rose again. And moved about her palace, proud and pale. Gawain the while thro' all the region round Rode with his diamond, wearied of th« quest, 380 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. Touch'd at all points, except the poplar grove, And came at last, tho' late, to Astolat: Whom glittering in enamell'd arms the maid Glanced at, and cried What news from Camelot, lord? What of the knight with the red sleeve ?" He won." *' I knew it," she said. "But parted from the jousts Hurt in the side," whereat she caught her breath ; Thro' her own side she felt the sharp lance go ; Thereon she smote her hand : well- nigh she swoon'd ; And, while he gazed wonderingly at her, came The lord of Astolat out, to whom the Prince Reported who he was, and on what quest Sent, that he hore the prize and could not find The victor, but had ridden wildly round To seek him, and was wearied of the search. To whom the lord of Astolat " Bide with us. And ride no longer wildly, noble Prince ! Here was the knight, and here he left a shield ; This will he send or come for : further- more Our son is witl; him : we shall hear anon, Needs must we hear." To this the courteous Prince Accorded with his wonted courtesy, Courtesy with a touch of traitor in it^ And stay'd ; and cast his eyes on fair Elaine : Where could be found face daintier? then her shape From forehead down to foot perfect — again From foot to forehead exquisitely turn'd : " Well— if I bide, lo ! this wild flower for me ! " And oft they met among the garden yews, And there he set himself to play upon her With sallying wit, frefe flashes from a height Above her, graces of the court, and songs. Sighs, and slow smiles, and golden eloquence And amorous adulation, till the maid Rebell'd against it, saying to him, Prince, O loyal nephew of our noble King, Whyask you not to see the shield he left,' Whence you might learn his name? Why slight your King, And lose the quest he sent you on, and prove No surer than our falcon yesterday, Who lost the hern we slipt him at, and went To all the winds?" "Nay, by mine head," said he, " I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven, 0 damsel, in the light of your blue eyes : But an ye will it let me see the shield." And when the shield was brought, and Gawain saw Sir Lancelot's azure lions, crown'd with gold, Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh, and mock'd ; Right was the King ! our Lancelot ! that true man ! " " And right was 1," she answer'd mer- rily, " I, Who dream'd my knight the greatest knight of all." " And if I dream'd," said Gawain, " that you love This greatest knight, your pardon ! lo, you know it ! Speak therefore : shall I waste myself in vain ?" Full simple was her answer *• What know I ? My brethren have been all my fellow- ship, And L when often they have talk'd of love, Wish'd it had been my mother, for they talk'd, Meseem'd, of what they knew not ; bo myself— 1 know not if I know what true love is, LANCELOT AND ELAINE 381 But if I know, then, if I love not him, Methinks there is none other I can love." "Yea, by God's death," said he, **ye love him well, But would not, knew ye what all others know. And whom he loves." So be it," cried Elaine, And lifted her fair face and moved away : But he pursued her calling ''Stay a little ! One golden minute's grace : he wore your sleeve : Would he break faith with one I may not name ? Must our true man change like a leaf at last ? Nay — like enough : why then, far be it from me To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves ! And, damsel, for I deem you know full well Where your great knight is hidden, let me leave My quest with you ; the diamond also : here ! For if you love, it will be sweet to give it; And if he love, it will be sweet to have it From your own hand ; and whether he love or not, A diamond is a diamond. Fare you well A thousand times ! — a thousand times farewell ! Yet, if he love, and his love hold, we two May meet at court hereafter : there, I think. So you will learn the courtesies of the court, We two shall know each other." Then he gave, And si ,. "y kiss'd the hand to which he gave, The diamond, and all wearied of the quest Leapt on his horse, and carolling as he went A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. Thence to the court he past ; there told the King What the King knew "Sir Lancelot is the knight." And added ''Sire, my liege, so much I learnt ; But fail'd to find him tho' I rode all round The region : but I lighted on the maid. Whose sleeve he wore ; she loves him ; and to her, Deeming our courtesy is the truest law, I gave the diamond : she will render it; For by mine head she knows his hid- ing-place." The seldom-frowning King frown'd, and replied, " Too courteous truly ! ye shall go no more On quest of mine, seeing that ye for- get Obedience is the courtesy due to kings." He spake and parted. Wroth but all in awe, For twenty strokes of the blood, with- out a word, Linger'd that other, staring after him ; Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd abroad About the maid of Astolat, and her love. All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were loosed : " The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lance- lot, Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Asto- lat." Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, and all Had marvel what the maid might be, but most Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old dame Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp news. She, that had heard the noise of it be^ fore. But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop'd so low, Marr'd her friend's point with pale tranquillity. LANCELOT AND ELAINE, So ran tlie tale like fire about the court, Fire in dry stubble a nine days' won- der flared : Till ev'n the knights at banquet twice or thrice Forgot to drink to Lancelot anJ the Queen, And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid Smiled at each other, while the Queen who sat With lips severely placid felt the knot Climb in her throat, and with her feet unseen Crush'd the wild passion out against the floor Beneath the banquet, where the meats became As wormwood, and she hated all who But far away the maid in Astolat, Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her heart. Crept to her father, while he mused alone, Sat on his knee, stroked his gray face and said, Father, you call me wilful, and the fault Is yours who let me have my will, and now, Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits?" "Nay," said he, "surely." "Where- fore, let me hence," She answer'd, " and find out our dear Lavaine." Ye will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine : Bide," answer'd he : "we needs must hear anon Of him, and of that other." "Ay," she said, " And of that other, for I needs must hence And find that other, wheresoe'er he be, And with mine own hand give his dia- mond to him, Lest I be found as faithless in the quest As yon proud Prince who left the quest to me. Sweet father, I behold him in my dreams Gaunt as it were the skeleton of him- self. Death-pale, for lack of gentle maiden's aid. The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound, My father, to be sweet and serviceable To noble knights in sickness, as ye know. When these have worn their tokens : let me hence I pray you." Then her father nod- ding said, " Ay, ay, the diamond : wit you well, my child, Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole, Being our greatest ; yea, and you must give it — And sure I think this fruit is hung too high For any mouth to gape for save a Queen's— Nay, I mean nothing : so then, get you gone, Being so very wilful you must go." Lightly, her suit allow'd, she slipt away. And while She made her ready for her ride. Her father's latest word humm'd in her ear, " Being so very wilful you must go," And changed itself and echoed m her heart. " Being so very wilful you must die." But she was happy enough and shook it off, As we shake off the bee that buzzes at us ; And in her heart she answer'd it and said, " What matter, so I help him back to life?" Then far away with good Sir Torre for guide Rode o'er the long backs of the bush- less downs To Camelot, and before the city-gates Came on her brother with a happy face Making a roan horse caper and curvet LANCELOT . For pleasure all about a field of flowers : Whom when she saw, " Lavaine," she cried, " Lavaine, How fares my lord Sir Lancelot?" He amazed, " Torre and Elaine ! why here ? Sir Lancelot ! How know ye my lord's name is Lan- celot?" But when the maid had told him all her tale. Then turn'd Sir Torre, and being in his moods Left them, and under the strange- statued gate, Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically. Past up the still rich city to his kin. His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot : And her, Lavine across the poplar grove Led to the caves : there first she saw the casque Of Lancelot on the wall : her scarlet sleeve, Tho' carved and cut, and half the pearls away, Stream'd from it still ; and in her heart she laugh'd, Because he had not loosed it from his helm. But meant once more perchance to tourney in it. And when they gain'd the cell in which he slept. His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands Lay naked on the wolfskin, and a dream Of dragging down his enemy made them move. Then she that saw him lying unsleek, unshorn. Gaunt as it were the skeleton of him- self. Uttered a little tender dolorous cry. The sound not wonted in a place so still Woke the sick knight, and while he roU'd his eyes Yet blank from sleep, she started to him, saying *' Your prize the diamond sent you by the King : " iND ELAINE, 383 His eyes glisten'd : she fancied " is it for me?" And when the maid had told him all the tale Of King and Prince, the diamond sent, the quest Assign'd to her not worthy of it, she knelt JFull lowly by the corners of his bed. And laid the diamond in his open hand. Her face was near, and as we kiss the child That does the task assign'd, he kiss'd * her face. At once she slipt like water to the floor. ''Alas," he said, "your ride has wearied you. Rest must you have." " No rest for me," she said ; "Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest." What might she mean by that ? his large black eyes. Yet larger thro' his leanness, dwelt upon her, Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself In the heart's colors on her simple face ; And Lancelot look'd and was perplext in mind. And being weak in body said no more ; But did not love the color ; woman's love. Save one, he not regarded, and so turn'd Sighing, and feign'd a sleep until he slept. Then rose Elaine and glided thro' the fields. And past beneath the wildly-sculp^ tured gates Far up the dim rich city to her kin ; There bode the night : but woke with dawn, and past Down thro' the dim rich city to the fields. Thence to the cave : so day by day she past In either twilight ghost-like to and fro Gliding, and every day she tended him, 384 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. And likewise many a night : and Lan- celot Would, the' he call'd his wound a little hurt Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times tJrain-feverous in his heat and agony, seem fJncourteous, even he : but the meek maid Sweetly forebore him ever, being to ham Meeker than any child to a rough nurse Milder than any mother to a sick child, And never woman yet, since man's first fall, f)id kindlier unto man, but her deep love •iTpbore her ; till the hermit, skill'd in all The simples and the science of that time, Told him that her fine care had saved his life. And the sick man forgot her simple blush, Would call her friend and sister, sweet Elaine, JVould listen for her coming and regret -ler parting step, and held her ten- derly, A.nd loved^ her with all love except the love Of man and woman when they love their best Closest and sweetest, and had died the death In any knightly fashion for her sake. And peradventure had lie seen her first She might have made this and that other world Another world for the sick man ; but now The shackles of an old love straiten'd him, His honor rooted in dishonor stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. Yet the great knight in his mid- sickness made Fttll many a holy vow and pure re- fiolve. These, as bat born of sickness, could not live : For when the blood ran lustier in him again, Full often the sweet image of one face. Making a treacherous quiet in his heart, Dispersed his resolution like a cloud. Then if the maiden, while that ghostly grace Beam'd on his fancy, spoke, he an- swer'd not, Or short and coldly, and she knew right well What the rough sickness meant, but what this meant She knew not, and the sorrow dimm'