CIHM

ICMH

Microfiche

Collection de

Series

microfiches

(Monographs)

(monographies)

Canadian Institute for Historical Microrepro.^^ctions / Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes techniques et bibiiographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original
copy available for filming. Features of this copy which
may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of
the images ir the reproduction, or which may
significantly cnange the usual method of filming are
checked below.

□

Coloured covers /
Couverture de couleur

I I Covers damaged ,

Couverture endommagee

□ Covers restored and/or laminated /
Couverture restauree et/ou pelliculee

Cover title missing / Le litre de couverture manque

I I Coloured maps / Carles geographiques en couleur

□ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black) /
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations /
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material /
Relie avec d'autres documents

Only edition available /
Seule edition disponible

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along
interior margin / La reliure serree peut causer de
I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge
interieure.

Blank leaves added during restorations may appear
within the text. Whenever possible, these have been
omitted from filming / II se peut que certaines pages
blanches 'joutees lors d'une restauration
apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela etait
possible, ces pages n'ont pas ete filmees.

Additional comments /
Commentaires supplementaires:

L'Institut a microfilme le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a
ete possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exem-
plaire qui sont peut-etre uniques du point de vue bibli-
ographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite,
ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la metho-
de normale de filmane sont indiques ci-dessous.

I I Coloured pages / Pages de couleur

I I Pages damaged / Pages endommagees

n Pages restored and/or laminated /
Pages .estaurees et/ou pelliculees

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed /
Pages decolorees, tachetees ou piquees

Pages detached / Pages detachees

-■ Shov\rthrough / Transparence

j Quality of print varies /
— I Qualite inegale de I'impression

"1 Includes supplementary material /
Comprend du materiel supplementaire

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips,
tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure ihe best
possible image / Les pages totalement ou
partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une
pelure, etc., ont ete filmees a nouveau de fagon a
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

Opposing pages with varying colouration or
discolourations are filmed twice to ensure the best
possible image / Les pages s'opposant ayant des
colorations variables ou des decolorations sont
filmees deux fois afin d'obtenir la meilleure image
possible.

This item is

ilmec

It the

reduc

tion ratio checked below

Ce document est fllme au taux de reduction indique ci-dessous.

lOx

14x

18x

1 '

22x

1 1

26x

30x

12x

16x

20x

24x

28x

32x

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

L'exemplaire filmA fut reproduit grace A la
g^n^rosit^ de:

National Library of Canada

Bibliotheque nationale du Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with vha
filming contract specifications.

Les images suivantes ont ixi reproduites avec la
plus grand so.n, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nenet* de l'exemplaire film*, et en
conformit* avec les cond tions du contrat de
fiimage.

Original copies in printed paper covers urB filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or il'ustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when bq, opriate. All
other original copies are fllm« Ju^.nning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimAe sont filmis en commencant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
derniAro page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont film^s er commenpant par la
premiAre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la derni^re page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol » (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la
derniAre image de chaque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole — ♦■ signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbole V signifie "FIN".

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc.. peuvent etre
filmis A des taux de reduction diff6rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour etre
reproduit en un seul clich6. 11 est film6 A partir
de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite.
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la m^thode.

MICROCOPY RESOLUTION lESI CHART

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2

1.0

I.I

■ SO "^K

If 1^

IIM

2£

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

_^ /AP PLIED IN/MGE In

.T= ■'^) *8i - 0300 - Phone

tJ~ 6) 288- 5989 - Fa«

'^" V «

^Nv,

J-;: iv .<----

# "••#:^..

^^*>=^^

f THE STORY

OF
^IDYLLS OF THE KING^

I«l

I C«n«(t« c

,s\>\*' W//

(<o>

<t>

•<•

Canada

THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

" 'i.o -rncir i iki wisi' siiait i'.I' kfxc,' " — Pir^r 2'^0

fR •

hiX

?*«i»-

AH rtghtz reserved

Printed m the United States of America

1996

INTRODUCTION

THE stories sketched herein are for the most part founded
on Tennyson's " Idylls of the King." The aim of the
writer has been to put the subject matter of the " Idylls "
into readable form for young readers, — to lay a foundation, as
it were, for Tennyson's tales. They are stories of " noble
chivalry, courtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friend-
ship, cowardice, murder, hate, virtue, and sin."

Before reading these tales the young reader should know that
King Arthur was a good and wise king who ruled over parts of
England in the sixth century. In those days England was divided
into a number of petty kingdoms, each ruled by its own king, and
Arthur was the wisest and best of these rulers. Indeed, so great
was he, that he conquered a large number of his neighbor kings,
and finally came to be the ruler of all Western, or Celtic England.
He was so chivalrous and kind, so wise and just, that people every-
where sang his praises. Story after story about him was handed
down from one generation to another, until, even before print-
ing came into use, writers of many lands took him for the highest
type of chivalrous gentleman. He was made to stand for all that
was good and pure in life, and his name became a household watch-
word.

A writer named Mallory gathered the Arthur stories together
and had them published in one bock. He called his work " Morte
d'Arthur." Tennyson got much of the material for his " Idylls "
from Mallory, but each author added to the original records to
suit his own fancy. Thus, Arthur really reigned in the sixth
century, but Maiiory put him into a setting of feudal chivalry and
knighthood at its highest flower, which was actually reached in the
twelfth century, Tennyson went farther and put In conversation
and happenings of his own day and age. Therefore, while the

INTRODUCTION

story of Arthur Is beautiful and inspiring, it is not exactly true to
his time. But this fact does not in any way affect the interest of
the tale.

The traveler over Great Britain finds everywhere mementos
of Arthur. From " Arthur's Seat " at Edinburgh to " Arthur's
Castle of Tintagil " in Cornwall, his name Is In the air. Win-
chester claims to have been the seat of Arthur's royal palace —
the city spoken of in the tales as Camelot. Bamborough Castle in
Northumberland boasts of having been " Joyous Gard," the home
of Lancelot, Arthur's best-loved knight; while Guilford In Surrey
is said to have been the home of " the lily maid of Astolat," who
died for love of Lancelot. Devonshire is known as the home of
Geraint, one of Arthur's strong knights, and Glastonbury is the
traditional " island-valley of Avalon " whither Arthur passed at
the close of the tales. It was to Glastonbury, we are told, that
Joseph of Arimathea conveyed the Holy Grail after the Saviour's
death, and there the Feast of the Pentecost was always faithfully
observed by Arthur and his knights.

Tennyson uses his " Idylls " to point a moral. In some respects
he makes them a tale of " Paradise Lost." In the beginning, he
shows us Arthur's kingdom — a creation bright and fair, perfect
in every way. The blight of sin, however, creeps in at last and
gradually spreads corruption, until all ends In what seems to be
defeat and failure; but through the clouds we can see the sun shin-
ing, and we feel that Arthur's life has not been lived In vain. We
do not deal with the moral in our rendering of the stories. We
give them for their pictures of chivalrous times, for their beauty
of thought and action, and for their portrayal of right, truth, and
might conquering over wrong. It Is our hope that young readers
will profit from acquaintance with the brave, and courteous knights,
and the pure, true, beautiful ladles around whom the tales are
woven, and be led to realize the truth of the saying: " Do after
the good, and leave the evil, and It shall bring you to good fame
and renown."

CONTENTS

THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

_ PAGE

Introduction y

CHAPTER

I How Arthur Came to be King ... . i

II The Founding of the Round Table . . . io

III Arthur's Be^t Friend 20

IV The Marriage of Arthur 31

V Arthur's Enemies AT Court 39

VI Gareth of Orkney 49

VII The Story of Geraint and Emd .... 75

VIII The Lily Maid of Astolat 103

IX The Search for the Holy Grail . . . .132

X Guinevere 147

XI The Passing of Arthur 162

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Dedication 175

The Coming of Arthur 176

The RouNi' Table

Gareth and Lynette 187

The Marriage of Gfraixt 217

Geraint AND Enid 235

vii

viii COr^IENTS

PAC«

Balin and Balan 256

Merlin and Vivien 269

Lancelot and Elaine 289

The Holy Grail .319

PELLEAS and ETTARRE 339

The Last Tournament 351

Guinevere 368

The Passing of Arthur 382

To the Queen 392

ILLUSTRATIONS

" ' lo, thou likewise shalt be king ' " .
" For two hours more they fought"

Here by oou's rood is the one maid for me ' "
"'Yea, little maid, for am i not forgiven?'"

F, on I is piece

FACING FAiiE
. 26

226

382

THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THK KING

CHAPTER 1

HOW ARTHUR CAME TO BE KING

KING UTHER Pendragon lay dying. He was sore at
heart and sadly troubled. His spirit could not bear to
leave the earth, for he had no heir to succeed him.
Loudly did he mourn, and all his attendants were filled with pity.
Merlin, the great wi/.ard, and his master Bleys were sent for, and
tried in vain to comfort him.

At last the two wise men went out from the King's presence,
and paced along the shore beside the sea. They were sad and
troubled, for they could think of no way In which their ma[,ic might
help their beloved King. It was night — a dismal night, "in
which the bounds of Heaven and earth seemed lost." Suddenly,
from out the blackness, a dragon-winged ship loomed up at sea.
Bright and all shining she was, and there were many people on her
decks. B. . only a glimpse the two wise men had ere she passed
from sight. Then master and pupil stood silently watching the
great waves ri. : and fall. Wave after wave came in, each mightier
than the kst, until finally the 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, that rode to Merlin's feet."

Quickly the old wizard caught up the child. " The King! " he
cried. " Here is an heir for Uther! "

As he spoke, the fringe of the great breaker, swooping up the
strand, lashed at him and rose all around him in fire, so that he and

THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KLNG

the child were clothed in flame. Then the fire died down, a peace-
ful calm fell, and stars and sky were bright anil clear.

Straij^htway Merlin ami Bl"ys hurrlcil to the castle, and great
was the rejoicing when the glad tidings were home throughout the
court that an heir had been given to L'ther from the deep sea. The
old King was glad and happy indeed, and his spirit passed from
his body in peace. But he did not die until he had blessed the
child and commanded two knights and two ladies to take it,
wrapped in cloth-of-gold, and deliver it to a poor man they would
find waiting at the outer gates of the castle. The wise old King
knew that when he was dead the babe's life would be in danger,
antl that many of his wicked, unscrupulous nobles would try to take
the throne.

Now the old man at the gate was Merlin in disguise, but the
knights and ladies knew it not. He bore the babe secretly away,
and carried him to Sir ,\nton, an old friend of King Uther's. The
good knight had the child christened by a holy priest, naming him
Arthur. Then his wife took the babe and nursed him and reared
him with her own children.

Great was the speculation at court as to where the child had
gone, and strife and trouble arose among the more powerful nobles
as to who should rule in King Uther's stead. But Merlin charged
them, saying:

"Hive heed what ye do. The child is not dead. God will
have His will; in His own good time He will bring forth Uther's
heir and crown him King. And Uther's heir shall be greatest of
all great kings; all his enemies shall fall before him. And be-
fore he dies he shall long have been King of all England, and
have under his rule Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, and more king-
doms than are now known."

The petty kings and nobles marveled at what Merlin said,
and though they scoffed at him in secret, they dared not take the
throne, for well they knew the wisdom of his prophecies. And for
many years there were wrangling and bloodshed in the land.

HOW ARTHUR CAME TO BH KING

Knaves and cutthroats went their way undisturbed, and the country
sank into decay. Wild men and people from over the sea plun-
dered and laid waste the borderlands, and Terror rode barebacked
over the hills and throujjh the dales. At last Merlin went to the
Archbishop of Canterbury and told him to make known to all tho
lords of the realm, and to all the gentlemen of arms, that if they
would come to London at Christmas time, a miracle would be shown
to them, revealing vvho wa<! to be their King. Of course all the
lords and gentlemen were eager to know who this might be, and
long before dawn on Christmas Day the great church in London
was packed with hopeful guests, who waited anxiously for the hour
of prayer, after which the miracle was to be made known.

When all had been permitted to file into the churchyard, there
was seen a large, square marble block, having in its midst an anvil
all of steel. In the anvil was stuck a beautiful svord, with naked
blade. And on the sword were letterings and markings of gold,
which, being interpreted, read:

" ff'hoso ptdleth this szvurd from out this anvil and marble is
the true King of all England."

The people marveled, for the feat seemed easy; and there was
some wrangling among the lords, for each of them wished to be
King, as to who should have the . ^t trial to draw out the sword.
The question having been settled by the Archbishop after some
difficulty, one after another went up and tried to draw the sword
from the anvil. But no one could even make it stir.

" It is plain," said the Archbishop, " that the man is not here
who can draw the sword. But doubtless God will make him known
in good time. Let us issue a proclamation that there will be an-
other trial on Twelfth Day. In the meantime, let us provide ten
good knights to guard the sword."

All was done as the Archbishop said. Then, as the nobles and
gentlemen did not care to return to their homes and journey back
again, it was arranged to have a great joust, or tournament, on
New Year's Day. The Archliishop was glad of this excuse to

THK STORY OF IDYLLS OF IHF KING

keep the lords and the common people together, for he hoped that
liurinjT the joust some si(?n would be given as to who should win
the sword.

Now it happened thut Sir Anton lived on a large estate near
London, ami he decided to go up to the tournament with his son,
Sir Kay, and young Arthur for his companions. When they had
ridden a few miles on their journey, Sir Kay discovered that he
had forgotten his sword. lie was much dismayed, for he meant
to take part in the tourneys, and he begged Arthur to ride back
for it. This the sweet-tempered lad willingly consented to do,
th(>ugh by so doing he wouKl miss a large part of the tournament.
But the tri'' was a useless one, for when he arrived at the castle,
he found that all the servants had set off across the fields for the
tournament. There was no one to find the sword for him, and
he was forced to turn back empty-handed.

" .'Mas! " said he, " I will not go to my brother without a sword.
He shall do his share in the tourney, even though it be late in the
day. I will get me down to the churchyard and draw out the sword
from the marble."

When he had come to the churchyard and made fast his horse
to the stile, he went to the tent which had been placed over the
marble block, and peeped in. And lo! the brave and trusted
knights who had been left to guTd the sword had stolen away to
the tourneys! Seizing the weapon by the handle, Arthur pulled it
easily from the marble, mounted his horse, and rode away in search
of Sir Kay, to whom he delivered the sword.

Sir Kay recognized it at once, and, saying nothing of his in-
tentions to Arthur, he spurred his horse to his father's side. Show-
ing the sword to Sir Anton, he said, " Lo, Sir, here is the sword that
was in the marble in the churchyard, wherefore I must be King
of all England."

Sir Anton was astonished. But he knew his son. Privately
summoning Arthur, he made Sir Kay and the boy go quiptly with
him to the churchyard. There he examined the marble, then he

now ARIllLR CAME TO BE KING

drew them into the church and sternly bade Sir Kay tdl hiin the
truth about the stone.

"I low Is It that you now have the sword in vour possession?
Vou could no more tlraw It on Christmas Day than any other
knight! " he demanded.

Sir Kay knew his father was not to be deceived, so he answered
truly: " My brother .Arthur brought it to me."

" Zounds! " exclaimed the old knif^ht. " And how came you by
it, boy?"

Arthur told him.

" Then," said Sir .Anton, " I see that you, lad. must be the des-
tined King of our land."

'' I ! " cried Arthur in bewilderment, for he had not understood
the true significance of the sword. "Wherefore I? Are you
dreaming, Father? Why should I be King? "

" Because God will have it so," answered Sir Anton solemnly,
uncovcrii.g his head. " Know you not, lad, that it has been or-
dained that whosoever pulleth this sword from the marble shall
be King? It is a sign from the Great Ruler on high. Now,
that there may be no mistake, let us see if you can put the sword
back in its place and draw it out again."

"Surely, Sir, that is easy!" answered Arthur, r.nd straightway
led the way to the churchyard.

Lightly he hurled the gleaming steel Into the center of the anvil.
Then Sir Anton took hold of the sword and tried to draw it out,
but in vain. Sir Kay next tried with all his might to move the
sword, but he could not stir It.

" Nay," said Sir Anton, " you arc not the man. Do you try,
Arthur."

And Arthur took hold of the sword and drew It forth easily.
.\t this Sir Anton and Sir Kay knelt on the ground before him and
bowed low their heads.

" Alas," cried Arthur, " wherefore do you kneel to me, mine
own dear father and my brother? "

6 THE STORY OF ID/LLS OF THE KING

" \ay, my lord Arthur," answered good Sir Anton, " call
me father no more. You are not of our kin. None of my blood
courses in your veins."

Then he told Arthur how he had taken him from Merlin and
brought him up as his own son; and how the wizard had said that
Arthur was sent from heaven to be King. Arthur was deeply
moved, but the thought that he might be the King paled before
the loss of his good parents, and he was even more deeply grieved.

Seeing this, the old knight said kindly: " Do not take it to
heart, my lord Arthur. We will still be your friends, If It please
you."

" If it please me! " exclaimed Arthur. "What manner of man
should I be if it did not please me? It would ill-behoove me to
show aught but kindness and love to you and my good mother, Lady
Eleanor who have stood for so many years between me and the
world. Nay, Sir Anton, If It shouiii L. that I have the good for-
tune to be crowned King, ask what you will of me and the favor
shall be granted, even unto the half of my kingdom."

" Lord Arthur," replied the old knight, bowing low, " your kind-
ness and courtesy do ciedit to the wise teachings of my good lady.
I thank you. But I shall ask no more of you than that you make
my son. Sir Kay, seneschal of all your lands."

" Indeed," answered Arthur, " that will I do willingly. And,
by my faith, no ,: in but he shall fill that office while he and I live."

Then Sir Anton counseled Arthur ?nd Sir Kay to hold their peace
till Twelfth Day, when Arthur might take his turn among all those
who came to try for the sword.

" For," said he, " no other man can take the sword, let him
try as he may. You are ihe King that God has sent to save the
land. It is best that you prove yourseh before all the lords and
common people."

When Twelfth Day came, a great crowd again assembled, and
all the mighty and powerful men of the kingdom tried in turn
to <lraw the sword. But none of them could do it. Then Arthur

HOW ARTHUR CAME TO BE KING 7

stepped out modestly from the ranks of the gentlemen and drew
the sword with ease. At first the people were amazed. Then
there was a great shout and a mutter of angry voices. How could
all the great and powerful knights submit to be ruled by a mere
boy, who had never even been knighted? It was with difficulty
that the Archbishop of Canterbury and his assistants finally re-
stored order. Then the Archbishop proposed that the question
should not be decided till Candlemas, which is the second day of
February, and to this all agreed.

However, when Candlemas came, Arthur again was the only
one from among the vast throng assembled in the churchyard who
could draw the sword. But the people were no better satisfied
than before; so they agreed to have another trial on Easter Day.
And again it happened that none but Arthur could take the sword.
Once more it was agreed that another trial should take place —
this time at the Feast of the Pentecost, commonly known as Whit-
sunday, seven weeks after Easter.

Now so bitter was the feeling against Arthur that Merlin was
fearful lest he come to harm, so the wizard prevailed upon the
Archbishop to send ten of Uther's best-beloved knights to serve
the young King-to-be as a body-guard. They were to attend
Arthur at all times, and never to leave him even for a moment,
until the great day for the Feast of the Pentecost arrived.

The people had now grown reckless over the choice of King,
feeling that any full-grown man could rule more wisely than a mere
stripling; so all manner of men were allowed to test their strength
on the day of Pentecost. But all to no purpose, for none but
Arthur could draw the sword. When for the fourth time he pre-
vailed over all the knights and strong men of the land, a murmur
ran through the crowd. A presentiment seemed to descend upon
them. And all the common people fell upon their knees, crying:
Let Arthur be crowned King! W^e will take no other. He it
is whom God has sent. Deny him no longer, lest a great pestilence
come upon us. Long live Ar'.nur, the King! "

8 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

Many o*" the knights now began to waver, and several of them
came and knelt at Arthur's feet and implored him to forgive them
for doubting him. This Arthur did readily, and, talcing the sword,
knelt and offered it on the altar before the Archbishop. Then he
T?as knighted by the best man there.

Arthur was crowned at once, in the presence of all the people,
and there he swore to the lords and the common people to be a
true king forevermore, and to rule the land with right and justice.
On one side of him stood the wizard, Merlin, his beard whitened
by the frosts of a hundred winters, and on the other stood the
Lady of the Lake, who had appeared as though by magic, clothed
in white samite, mystic and wonderful. A mist A incense curled
about her, and her face was well-nigh hidden in i...' gloom.

Just as the coronation ceremonies were over, the attention of
the people was attracted toward the lake near by. And behold, a
most wonderful sword rose above the waters in the center of the
lake!

" The mystic sword ! " cried the Lady of the Lake. " Make
haste, my lord Arthur, row out and secure it. Excalibur, mean-
ing cut-steel, is his name. Strong and powerful is he. And with
him in your hands no enemy can stand before you."

"And mind you, O King," said the wizard, "secure you the
scabbard, for it is ten times more powerful than the sword. While
you have the scabbard upon you, you shall lose no blood, be you
ever so sorely wounded."

Thus admonished, Arthur lost no time in securing the sword.
And a wonderful sword it was, with a blade so bright that men
were blinded by it. " All the haft twinkled with diamond sparks,
myriads of topaz-lights and jacinth-work of subtlest jewelry. ' On
the hilt was engraved the " Elfin Urim," mysterious Hebrew jewels,
having a hidden meaning. Some say that this symbol consisted
of four rows of precious stones on which were inscribed the names
of the twelve tribes of Israel; others that it was formed of three
stones, one of which indicated in son.^; mysterious way the answer

HOW ARTHUR CAME TO BE KING 9

" Yes," the second " No," while the third was neutral. On one
side of the blade was engraved In Hebrew, " Take me," but on
the other side were the words " Cast me a-jjay." When he had
read the inscriptions. Arthur was at a loss what to do, and his face
grew sad at the thought of throwing away the wonderful sword.
But Merlin came to his aid.

"Take the sword and strike I " he counseled. ''The time to
cast away is yet far off."

And Arthur obeyed.

iSt^

CHAPTER II

THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE

ARTHUR had scarcely been king an hour before complaints
began to pour in upon him. Lords, knights, • nd la-lies be-
sought him to restore lands which had been taken from them,
in one way and another, since the death of Uther. The widowed
and the fatherless came to him for protection, and prayed him to
give them aid in various causes. The King received all who sought
him, for he had a kind heart a. ' '-nged with all his soul to estab-
lish order, truth, and justice trhout his realm. But many
difficulties plunged him into a sea of trouble, and he readily saw
that he must have a band of faithful helpers.

One of the first acts was to make Sir Kay seneschal of England,
according to the promise given to Sir Anton. To him was en-
trusted, as far as possible, the restoration of all lands to their proper
owners. Arthur next remembered son.e old friends of King
Uther's, Sir Baldwin, Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias. Sir Baldwin was
made Constable of Britain, and Sir Ulfius, Chamberlain; while Sir
Brastias he appointed Warden of the country north of the River
Trent. Of course a large part of the land over which these lords
were supposed to hold sway was Arthur's realm only in name,
as it was ruled by kings who were hostile to him. This land had
to be conquered. To conquer it Arthur would need a large army;
therefore he conceived the idea of founding an order called The
Knights of the Round Table.

These knights were to be chosen from the flower of the land.
They were to be brave, true, chivalrous, loyal, ever ready to fight
for the right and to champion the cause of the weak. A large-
number presented themselves at Arthur's call, and he took the

THP: founding of the round table II

hanJs of each separately in his own, and, in a voice that trembled,
bade the knighted make the following vow:

" To reverence the King as if he were
'l heir conscience, and their conscience as their King,
To break the heathen and uphold tlie Christ,
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs,
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it,
To honor his own word as if his God's,
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity.
To love one maiden only, cleave to her,
And worship her by years of noble deeds,
Until they won her."

So simple were ihe words of great authority, so strait were the
vows to his majesty, that when the knights rose from kneeling
" some were pale as at the passing of a ghost, some flushed, and
others dazed as one who wakes half-blinded at the coming of
a light." Then, when he had finished knighting thein, the King
" spake, and cheered his Table Round with large, divine, and com-
fortable words," beyond the power of pen to tell.

As he talked a miracle happened. From eye to eye through
all their Order flashed a momentary likeness of the King; and ere
it left their faces, through the casement over Arthur came three
rays of beautiful light — flame-color, vert (green), and azure,
one falling upon each of three fair Queens who stood in silence
near his throne."

Just who these three Queens were who attended King Arthur
we do not know. Some say that they were the Queen Morgan le
Fay, Arthur's sister, the Queen of Northgales, and the Queen of
the Waste Lands. But others, and by far the greater number,
say that they were mystic Queens sent from heaven to watch over
the King, and that they were embodiments of the three cardinal
virtues. Faith, Hope, and Charity. They always hovered near
him; but only rarelv were they visible to the eyes of the knights
in attendance.

THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

The royal palace and the court of the Knights of ihc Round
Table were to be established at Camelot. To Merlin was en-
trusted the planning of the castle a'.u the grounds, and the result
was more than might have been expected even of a mighty wizard.
It was indeed a city of enchantment—" a city of shadowy palaces
and stately, rich in emblem and the work of ancient kings who did
thei- days in stone." Here and there pinnacles and spires rose
toward heaven, and everywhere were beautiful touches from the
hand of Merlin the Mage, who knew all arts.

A great wall was built all about the castle grounds, and the
rntrance thereto was not like any other gate under heaven:

" For baretDOt on the keystone, which was lined
And rippled like an evci Hecting 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
Siretch'd under all the cornice and upheld:
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 device- done,
New things and old co-twisted, as if lime
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."

Both the castle and wall, however, were many years in the
building, and during all this time Arthur and his knights were
waging the battle of truth and justice. " And now the Barons and
little kings prevailed, and now the King, as here and there the
war went swaying." But no enemy of Arthur co ild long hold
out against Excalibur, which was so bright in his eyes that it gave
the light of thirty torches; and Arthur's domain widened and

■'4

■9.

i
■f

THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE 13

lengthened daily, while the pure an 1 noble deeds of the King
and his knights uplifted and bettered all with whom they came in
contact. Arthur and the noble knights of the Round Table were
known far and wide, and everywhere they were both loved and
feared.

Perhaps the hardest struggle of all, was that with the Welsh
kings and barons. Tliey were most stubborn in their resistance
against King Arthur. So, after he had conquered all England
and won to himself many true and valiant knights, he went down
into Wales and caused a great Feast of the Pentecost to be held
in the city of Caerleon, hoping thus to please the people. To
this feast came many great kings with large hosts of po'verful
knights. And Arthur rejoiced, for he thought they had come
to do honor to him; and he sent messengers to them with rich
presents.

But the kings refused even to look at these, and repulsed the
bearers with bitter scorn, saying that they would receive no gifts
from a beardless boy of questionable blood. And they sent word
to Arthur that they had come to bring him gifts, which they would
deliver with sharp swords, betwixt the neck and shoulders. They
charged the messengers to say plainly to Arthur that they had
come to slay him, for they would never submit to the rule of a
mere boy.

Arthur and his lords took counsel together, and decided to en-
trench themselves in a strong tower which was near at hand.
Accordingly, five hundred picked knights were chosen, food was
hastily gathered in, and the army fortified behind strong walls.
Hardly were they safely settled, when the mighty Army of the
Kings besieged them, but all to no purpose, for the strong walls
of the tower sheltered them well. For fifteen days the siege
lasted; then Merlin came into the city.

The kings welcomed him gladly, for the old wizard had many
times worked powerful charms for them.

"But," they demanded, "why is this boy — this slender strip-

14 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

ling, Arthur, a mere nobody, the chosen King of all your noble

people? "

" Because," answered Merlin sternly, " he is the Heaven-sent
son of King Uther Pendragon. And it is not meet that yc f^ght
against him, besides it wil. profit ye naught. Powerful is he and
brave, endowed with God-given strength. All his enemies shall
fall before him, and he shall be luler over land and sea. Greater
than all great kings shall he be, and all the people will bow before
him and cry, ' All hail, the good King ' -thur 1

There were some among the kings who heeded Merlin's words;
but others, and those the more powerful, laughed scornfully, and
muttered under their breath things not exactly complimentary to
the old wizard. However, he gained from them a promise to
listen to Arthur if he cared to come out and speak with them, and
they assured him that Arthur would be allowed to come and go in
peace.

Then Merlin went to King Arthur. " Go out and speak boldly
t.o them as their King and Chieftain," he advised. " And spare
them not; neither be thou afraid, for thou shalt overcome them in
spite of all."

So Arthur hastily donned robes of peace over his heavy armor
and went out to meet them. With him went Sir Kay, Sir Brastias,
Sir Baldwin, and the Great Archbishop of Canterbury. Wiseiy
and well did Arthur speak to the hostile kings, and never once
did he fail to reply readily to the many questions which they asked.
But his wisdom and gentle kindness did not impress them. They
defied him, and Arthur told them ss'^'-, but with spirit, that he
would yet make them bow their heads in submission. Then the
kings turned awav In great wrath.

After Arthur had gone back to the tower, Merlin turned to the
kings, saying : " What will ye do? Ye had better disband quietly,
for I say unto you that truly ye will never prevail. No, not were
your number doubled unto ten times ten, for God is with Arthur
and his knights."

THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE 15

But the kings were angry :uul sore of spirit, and they said to
him scornfully: " Since when have we taken advice from dream-
ers:

Then Merlin faded swiftly from their sight, vanishing by magic,
and the kings were troubled. They had no wish to anger the old
wi/ard, lest he work some chirm upon them.

At once Merlin appeared before Arthur, counseling him
fiercely: " Set upon yonder rebellious rascals this hour, and smite
them. Go against them with weapons like their own; then, if the
battle waxes against you, draw Kxcalibur and he shall win the
victory."

And it came to pass as Merlin had foretold.

Within the hour Arthur and his knights fell upon the vast Army
of the Kings, and for a time the battle waxed hot and fierce.
Everywhere Arthur appeared in the thickest of the fight, until
finally his horse was slain under him, and several of the rebel
knights sprang upon him. Quickly he unsheathed Excallbur and
waved him aloft. There was a light like that of thirty torches,
low thunders rumbled, and lightnings played around, and the re-
bellious kings and barons shrank together, afraid. Then Arthur
aiid hi? knights pressed them close. Slowly they retreated; the
citizens of Caerleon joined Arthur and fell upon them with clubs
and stones, slayinp many knights; and finally the remnant of the
noble Army of the Kings broke and fled.

And Merlin came to King Arthur and counseled him not to
follow them. So Arthur and his knights returned to Camelot and
held coMncii as to what were best to be done. For Merlin had
told them that the kings though defeated were not humbled, and
we'd follow him into his own country to wreak vengeance upon
him.

At the council it was decided to send for Merlin and abide by
h's advice, and he came, saying: "I warn ye that your enemies
are exceeding strong. They are as good men-at-arms as any in all
the land. Since ye fought with them they have added four S:ot-

i6 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

tish kin^s and a powe ful duke, with their larj^e companies of
knights, to their number. If our King goeth out to meet them,
even with all the able knights he can gather together in his realm,
he will be out-numbered, overcome, and slain.

" Now, if ye will, hark i to my advice: Across the seas there
live two strong and powerful brothers; kings they are. One is
King Ban of Benwick, and the other King Bors of France. They
have a very rich and powerful enemy, King Claudas, \,'ho worries
-hem continually and against whom they cannot prevail. Now,
let my lord King Arthur send two trusty messengers unto these
kings and entreat '.hem to come to our aid, promising in return to
help deliver them from King Claudas."

And the King and all his knights approved; so Ulfius and Bras-
tias were chosen as messengers to the brothers. They started in
great haste for the city of Benwick. In a narrow pass among
the mountains they were set upon by eight knights from the court
of King Claudas, but God was with them and they overcame, and
left their enemies lying sorely wounded upon the field.

At Benwick, very fortunately, they found both King Ban and
King Bors, enjoying life in peace; for their enemy King Claudas
and most of his knights had gone away over the borders for a big
hunt. As soon as the kings learned that the messengers came
from the court of Arthur and were of the Round Table, they wel-
comed them most heartily, and summoned attendants to give them
food and bind the wounds they had received upon their journey.

Until morning the good knights tarried, and then set out upon
the homeward journey with joyful hearts. Not only did they have
about their persons as many rich gifts for King Arthur as they
could well carry, but they had something that was of far greater
value — a promise from King Ban and King Bors to come to
Camelot as soon as they could make ready, and help Arthur in his
struggle with the rebellious Welsh and Scots.

Great was the ioy among the knights of the Round Table,
when the good news was heard. Preparations were at once begun

THE FOUNDING OF THF ROUND TABLE 17

for a ^rand feast and tournament when the kings and their follow-
ers should arrive. Arthur and a hind of his most noble knights
went twenty miles along the way to meet the expected guests, and
most heartily did they greet thenj. I'he next day almost one
thousand knight-, took part in the tourneys and enjoyed tlie bounti-
ful feasts. King Arthur, King Ban, and King Bors, the .Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, old Sir .\nton, and the ladies of Arthur's
court sat on a platform covered with cloth-of-gold, and acted as
judges of the contests. And a merry time every one had. It was
the largest joust yet held in England.

When the eleven rebellious kings marched up against .Arthur,
he and his allies were not only ready but waiting for them, and a
battle was fought on the plains below Camelot. The great Army
of the Kings was utterly routed, and Arthur acknowledged as King
of Oeat Britain. His allies, the kings Ban and Bors, laden with
rich presents, returned to their own countries, happy in the assur-
ance that if their enemy, Claudas, ever again molested them, they
had only to send to the court of Arthur to obtain the means neces-
sary to quiet him forever.

Scarcely had the foreign kings gone and Arthur and his noble
knights settled down for a time of peaceful quiet, when guests
arrived at Court. They were Bellicent, wife of King Lot of
Orkney, with her sons, and a host of servants. Now Lot was
one of the kings who had recently been engaged in the war against
Arthur. But Queen Bellicent represented that she came in friend-
ship, and told Arthur she had just discovered that she was his
half-sister, being the daughter of Igralne, wife of Uther, by a
foimer marriage. She was a very beautiful woman, and Arthur's
heart went out to her. Pure and truthful himself, he was the last
man in the world to detect falsehood, deceit, and cunning in an-
other, so he made her most welcome. And not until her departure,
a month later, did he learn that she had really come to him as a

spy-
All was revealed to him in a marvelous dream, which filled him

i8 rm-: story of idylls of rut; kl\g

with dread. It seemed as though there came into his land a 'argc
number of griffins and serpents which Inirnt ami slew the people
throughout the land. And Arthur thought that he went to hattic
with them and that, although they wouniied him sorely, he finally
succeeded in slaying them.

"What does it mean?" he Inquired of .Merlin.

" Ah, my Lord .Arthur," answered the old man solemnly, " it
was a gruesome dream, and it meant Treason. You have indeed
entertained serpents in your court unawares for the past thirty
days. They shall bite and sting like adders! Queen Fkdlicent's
son shall break up your noble order of the Knights of ihe Round
Table, lay in waste the glo; ies of Camelot, and slay you in ■ ittle."

.And .Arthur was disheartened at the words, and drooped in ex-
ceeding bitterness of spirit.

But Merlin counseled him wisely: "Rebel not. It is Ciod's
will, and He doth all things well. Forget it! I should not have
told you, for it profits no man to know the Future I Pray regard
it as though you knew it not, my Lord Arthur. Live ev ;r as the
pure, blameless King, and when years hence, for it will be years
herce, the end romes, you will receive your reward. Sorrow not,
my lord, for yo^ shall die an honorabL- death, b ' — I shall die
shamefully. I shall be buried alive!"

Arthur marveled much over the words of the wizard, and, later
he saw how faithfully this prophecy of doom was fulfilled, par-
ticularly that about the magician's own sad ending. It seems that
Merlin, old as he was, fell in love with Vivien, a beautiful but
wicked maiden of Arthur's court. She enticed from the old man
a great number of his magic secrets, and used them to further
her own interests. At 'ast Merlin became so deeply in love with
Vivien that he could scarcely bear to have the maiden out of his
sight, and she grew very weary of him. Moreover, she was
afraid of him because he was a wizard. She feared that in one
of his jealous frenzies he would work some charm upon her.

Now, there was one charm the secret of which Merlin would

THK FOIXDIXC; OF IIIK KOINU lABLK 19

never tell Vivien, though lie lrci|utMuly hinted of its j{reat pow ■•.
Of course, when she found lie wouKI not tell the secret, she was
most anxious to know it, so she tried in every way to learn it. But
Merlin was wise: he was aware of Vivien's feeling for h.rn, and
he knew that if .,!ic discovered the secret his life would be in dan-
ger; for one who knew it could work a spell upon another that
would put that other into a deep sleep; then "he possessor of the
charm could cause the ground, or a tree, to open, allowing him
to roll the victim in and seal hitn up.

But alas for Merlin ! He thouj^ht so much about the secret that
daily it became harder for him to keep it. II" had a presentiment
that some d.-'y, in an unguarded moment, he would tell the charm.
And sure enough he did!

He and Vivien were sitting under i large oak tree in the Breton
forest of Borceliande. A great weariness was upon Merlin, for he
was very old, ha\ing lived three times the number of years
usually allotted to man. He had not the strength to withstand
Vivien's coaxing to tell him the secrtt and he yielded. Hardly
had he to'd it to her when he felt a great drowsiness stealing over
him. In a moment, he lay in a deep sleep, and Vivien stood over
him, clapping her hands and laughing in wild glee. Then, with a
ft»v mysterious moves and passes, she caused the great tree to open,
and roughly tumbled Merlin in. No sooner was he safely inside
than the tree closed up again, —

" And in the hollow oak he lay as dead.
And lost to life and use and name and fame."

And Vivien laughed and shrieked wildly, " I have made his
glory mine. Fool! O fool I" she cried. Then she turned and
sprang avvay through the forest, and the thicket closed behind her
as the deep woods echoed " fool I "

CHAPTER III

Arthur's best friend

AMONG King Arthur's knights was one, Sir Lancelot of
the Lake, whom he loved with a love passing that of
women. Sir Lancelot was one of the first to respond to
Arthur's call, and he willingly left his beautiful castle " Joyous
Gard " in Northumberland, to do the will of his " blameless, white
king." Chief was Lancelot among all the brave and noble knights
of the Round Table; in tournaments and jousts and deeds of arms
he surpassed all others, and never was he overcome except by
treason or enchantment. All over the land, next to good King
Arthur, Sir Lancelot was loved and honored by high and low.
Always he fought next to his king in battle, and well did his strong
arm serve his master.

Sir Lancelot loved excitement and the joy of the fray. He
was never content to lounge at home, among the splendors of the
court at Camelot. If adventure were not at hand, he went out
in search of it, ,.nd many are the thrilling stories told of him.
It is said that once, at a great tou-ney, he overthrew twenty-eight
knights in quick succession, among them being the great and mighty
King of North Wales.

Legend has it that once, when affairs at the court were dull, Sir
Lancelot, according to his custom, determined to go in quest of
adventures. He set out with only one companion, his nephew,
Sir Lionel, saying that he would not return until time for the great
Feast of the Pentecost, which was always observed at Camelot,
with great tourneys and much rejoicing. Days passed and noth-
ing was heard from the adventurers, and finally time drew very

ARTHUR'S BEST FRIP:ND

near to the Pentecost. Then Lancelot's brother, Sir Ector, grew
anxious, and set out in search of the two men.

Though not so strong as his brother Lancelot, Sir Ector was a
brave and noble knight. So he rode boldly into the heavy forest
for many miles in the direction in which his brother and his nephew
had started. Finally he met a sturdy forester and inquired of
him if there were any adventures to be found thereabout.

"Yea," said the forester. "If you be a brave man, you can
find all that you seek about a mile farther on, in the depth of the
forest. There is a strong manor with a deep moat around it,
and a ford where your horse may drink. Hard by is a beautiful
tree all hung with many fair shields that orce belonged to bold,
true knights. In the midst of these hangs a brass and copper
basin. If you smite angrily upon it three times with the butt of
your spear, that which you seek will appear."

Sir Ector rode forward at once. He knew well that if Sir
Lancelot had passed that way, he had sought at once the adven-
ture of which the forester told. As he came up to the tree and
eagerly scanned the many shields, he recognized the shield of his
nephew, Sir Lionel, and also those of several knights of the Round
Table who had mysteriously disappeared. But of Sir Lancelot's
shield there was no sign. Though he thanked Heaven for
this. Sir Ector was both dismayed and disheartened, and very
angry withal at the sight of these silent proofs of treachery done
to his friends. So he smote angrily upon the basin three times,
and rode his horse into the stream, to give him a drink. Scarcely
had the animal satisfied himself, when a knight rode up behind
Sir Ector and demanded that he come out of the water and pre-
pare to defend himself. With a shout Sir Ector wheeled sharply,
and smote th'. strange knight such a heavy blow that he fairly
made his horse reel.

" Ha ! " cried the knight. " That was well done, and more than
knight P. IS done to me these twelve years past, but, my friend,
such as you can be no match for Turquine ! "

THE STORY OF lUVLLS OF THFJ KINO

As the strange knight spoke his name, Sir Fetor fell : rembhng,
for there was scarcely a knight in all the Order of ,.e Round
Table who did not fear the great and mighty bandit, bir 1 ur-
quine The powerful knight marked the effect of his words, and
chuckled to himself as he reached out one mighty arm and plucked
the fear-weakened Sir Fetor from the saddle. Swiftly he bore
hi away to his own home, where he stripped him of his armor,
beat him with crael thorns, and threw him into a deep dungeon,
where he found many men whom he knew, among them the lost

Sir Lionel. . , , ,

"Alas, my nephew!" cried Sir Ector, "that we should meet
in this foul place! But tell me, know you aught -of my brother,

Lancelot?" . i j r

" No," answered Lionel. " I left him asleep in the shade of
an oak tree, but whether he now lives I know not. One thing
is sure: unless he does, and comes to our rescue, we shall rot m
prison. For there is no man on earth but Lancelot who can over-
throw our jailer." . t

While the knights mourned and sympathized with each other,
Lancelot also drooped and languished in a distant prison cell. As
he had lain in peaceful slumber under the oak tree, four Queen-
witches had come by and cast a spell over him. They had borne
him off to their castle and had sought by every means in their
power to make him renounce the Round Table and his allegiance
to King Arthur, and serve in their castle guard instead. This Sir
Lancelot would not do, and the Queens declared he should die
in prison if his will could not be broken.

Now it chanced that the damsel who was commanded to wait
upon Sir Lancelot, and carry him his meals, was the daughter of
Bagdemagus, a king whose head had been bowed low in the dust by
the King of North Wales. Once in a tournament Lancelot had
overthrown this great king, and the daughter of Bagdemagus,
knowing this, was very kind to Lancelot. She offered to help him
escape, if he would deliver her father from the tyranny ot the

• ■«

ARTHUR'S BEST FRIEND

Welsh king. Lancelot was more man glad *o consent, and at
the appointed time the maiden led him safely away and hid him
in her father's house. Then King Bagdemagus assembled all his
brave and trusty knights and gave them Into Sir Lancelot's com-
mand, and great was the victory which they won over the King of
Wales and his followers.

As soon as Lancelot saw his faithful friend, the Princess Bagde-
magus and her father, the King, safely settled In their own bor-
ders, he bade them a kind farewell and set forth alone to seek
for Sir Lionel, marveling much as to the young man's disappear-
ance while he himself had been sleeping beneath the oak. He
made his way back to the tree, and scarcely had he ridden ten rods
from It when he met a maiden riding a white mule.

" Sweet lady," said he, bowing low before her, " canst thou tell
me If any adventures are to be found In this forest? "

" Yea, my lord knight," answered the maiden, smiling brightly
at the handsome Lancelot, who had a manner that was pleasing
to all women, " there are many adventures hereabouts, If it so
happens that thou hast strength to prove them."

" And why should I not prove myself, fa'- maiden? " asked Sir
Lancelot quickly. " It is for further trials of my strength that I
have come Into this strange country."

" Aye, and thou hast spoken like a true knight I " exclaimed the
girl admiringly. " I doubt not that thou art powerful ?nd brave.
I will bring thee to the greatest and mightiest knight that ere was
found, if thou wilt tell me thy name and serve for me a quest, if
first thou art lucky enough to overthrow the great man."

" Surely," responded Sir Lancelot, with his usual gallantry.
" 'Twould be a pleasure to serve so fair a lady on any quest,
however difficult. As to my name, I am called Sir Lancelot of
the Lake, and belong to the Order of the Round Table. It may
so chance that you have heard of my master, the noble King
Arthur?"

" Yes, Indeed," answered the maiden eagerly. " Not only of

24 THE ST*- OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

Arthur, but of h . orave friend and most trusted knight, Lancelot.
Now do I know that this po\xcrful knight he delivered into your
ha:,ds. He is the great and wicked bandit, Sir Turquine. And
I am told that in his dungeons are three score and four good
knights of King Arthur's court. He hath taken every one that
came within his reach."

" Praise the kind Providence that led me hither, fair maiden 1 "
cried Sir Lancelot. " I will avenge my friends of the Table
Round and slay the villain, or forever give up my place at Arthur's
right hand! Lead on ! I am anxious to meet the bold Turquine,
ana God will strengthen my spear."

So the damsel made haste to lead Sir Lancelot .o the tree by
the fo.-d, and she showed him the mystery of the basin. He recog-
nized at once a large number of the shields hanging uj; on the tree,
and he was so angry that he smote the basin fiercely until the bot-
tom fell out. But no one came. Then Sir Lancelot rode up to the
gates of Sir Turquine's manor and pounded for admission, and
still no one answered. So he rode up and down before the gates
like a sentinel, determined not to go away until he had obtamed
satisfaction.

At last horses' hoofs were heard in the distance, and presently
there appeared at a bend in the road a great knight, who drove
before his own horse another on which lay another knight
who was wounded. There was something about the wounded
man which seemed strangely familiar, and as he came nearer, Lance-
lot saw that it was Sir Gaheris, one of the Order of the Round
Table who had but lately been knighted.

Sir Lancelot grasped his spear and firmly rode forward at a
gallop. "Prepare to defend thyself!" he shouted sternly. "I
charge thee in the name of King Arthur and the noble Order of
the Round Table ! "

" If thou comest under the name of that villainous band, thou
art truly welcome!" answered the knight boldly. "I defy thee
and all thv noble brotherhood ! "

ARTHUR'S BEST FRIEND

" Thou hast too much assurance, friend," returned Sir Lance-
lot, calmly. " But I pray thee, before we test our strength, let
us lay my wounded brother upon the ground and make him more
coiiuortable."

The knight consented. And then began such a fight as had
never been seen or heard of before in all England. Now one
knight prevailed and now the other, and for full two hours they
fought without either one gaining the mastery. Both were cov-
ered with wounds and their breath came in gasping sobs; yet neither
would cry for quarter.

At last Sir Turquine paused.

" Hold thy ha."d, good knight," he cried, " and let us reason
together. Thou art the best knight that hath ever crossed
blailcs with me, and more liite one othi >■ that I have never
seen than any one whom I could imagine. If thou art rot he,
for I hate him bitterly, I will agree to set free all my prisoners
and let them return to Arthur's court, providing thou wilt promise
to be my friend."

"And who is it thou so hatest. Sir Turquine?" inquired Sir
Lancelot. " It is meet that I should know his name ere I prom-
ise, for thou art surely a brave knight, and who knows that thou
mightst not be true and loyal didst thou so mind? "

" Know then," answered Sir Turquine grimly, " it is Sir Lance-
lot of the Lake. He slew my beloved brother at the battle of
the Towers, and to avenge him I have killed a hundred good
knights and crippled many more, and there are four score and
ten shut up in my dungeons. Never will I cease to slay the
knights of the Round Table that come into my borders whiie
Lancelot lives. Knowest thou him? Is he friend of thine? Tell
me true."

" Aye ! " answered Lancelot bravely. " Never yet have I
spoken aught but truth to man. Behold! Thy hated enemy
stands before thee. I am Lancelot of the Lake, son of Kin* Ban
of Benwick. And we must fight u.ito the death ; for as thou must

26 THE STORY Ol' IDYLLS OF THL KING

avenge thy brother, so must 1 lik-.wise avenge my friends and
kinsmen of the Round Table. I defy thee! "

Sir Tiirquine's wrath now waxed high. He fought with might
and main, and Sir Lancelot had all he could do to defend himself.
For twi> hours more they fouj^ht without rest, and both were faint
and sick from the pain of their wounds and the loss of blood.
Both w re smeared and bespattered, and the grass all aoout them
was trodden and stained like a slaughter pen. At la-.t Sir Tur-
qulne's splendid strength gave way, and he bore his shield low
for very weariness. Then came Sir Lancelot's chance, and he
seized it. Quickly he grasped his foe by the helmet and bore him
to his knees, plucking off his helm as he did so, and severing his
neck with one blow. Then he fell fainting by the side of the dead

knight.

Now the maiden who had brought Lancelot to the ford had re-
mained hidden in a nearly ravine to watch the duel, and as soon
as she saw that Lancelot had fallen beside the slain Turquinc, she
rushed to his side. And it was well that she did so, for he would
have died of his wounds without her ministrations. Seizing Sir
Turquine's helmet she bounded to the ford and quickly returned
with cool spring water and soothing herbs. Tearing her hand-
kerchief, sash and scarf into bandages, she soon had her pntient's
wounds dressed as skilfully as a physician could have bound them,
and set about restoring him to consciousness.

It was not long until Sir Lancelot was up and eager to set
about his business. Almost immediately he In-.uired of the maiden
as to the nature of the cjuest which she had wished him to under-
take.

" Nay, Sir Knight," she cried pleadingly, " pray think not of it
now. Stay thy hand, Lbeseech thee, until thou art rested and whole

again."

But Sir Lancelot only laughed. " What are a few wounds, fair
maiden?" he exclaimed. "Pray tell me thy wish, that I may

ind

^■smms;:.-'

'i--()k TWO ni>ri."< MiiKi' Tiiiv iiircur"— /'/I,''' -''5

S:?!

AR'lilLR'S Bl'Sr FRIEND

keep my promise. I must be in Camclot for the Pentecost, and
the time draws very near."

" Well, if thou must, Sir Knight," answered the maiden reluc-
tantly. " I dislike to ask thee to duel more to-day; yet there is a
wicked knight hereabouts who robs and distresses ladies and gen-
tlewomen. It would be a noble act if thou couldst stay his hand,
and thou wouldst have the thanks of all the ladies and damsels."

" Lead on," replied Sir Lancelot. " It is a good quest. But
first let us set my wounded brother upon his feet."

So they loosed the thongs that bound the hands and feet of
Sir Gahcris and removed the gag from his mouth, so that he was
free to sit up and express his thanks to Lancelot and his admiration
for the way Sir Lancelot had held his own in the duel with Sir Tur-
quine. But Lancelot cut him short.

" Stay thy praise. Sir Gaheris! " said he. " I did but my duty.
It was meet that I should do all I could for the Round Table and
our blameless, white king. Get thee hence and finish this task for
me, while I go with this maiden to redeem my promise. She hath
sore need of a strong arm. I am told that at Turqulne's manor
hard by, there are shut up in the dungeon a large number of men
from the Round Table. Their shields hang in a tree by the ford.
Among them have I recognized those of my kinsmen. Sir Ector
and Sir Lionel. Go then to the castle, I pray thee, and release
the prisoners. Tell them to be of good cheer, and to hasten
to Camelot for the great Feast of the Pentecost, when I shall be
with them."

So Sir Lancelot and the maiden rode away, and as they drew
near the bridge where the wicked knight usually lay in covert. Sir
Lancelot bade the maiden ride on in advance. Scarcely had she
gone a dozen rods, when the bandit sprang out from the thicket
and dragged her from her horse. In an instant Sir Lancelot was
upon him, and with one blow severed his head from his body.

" Zounds! What a dog! " he cried in disgust, as he helped the

28 THK STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

weeping maiden to her feet. " ' Tis a disgrace on kniKhthooJ that
such as he lives! Hast thou aught more that 1 can do tor thee,
fair maiden? If so, thou hast hut lo speak, for thou hast twice
saved my hfe, and 'tis a pleasure to serve thee."

" Nay, brave knight," answered the maiden, smiling, " thou art
very kind, and better and gentler than any knight i have yet seen,
hut I can ask no more of thee. Cio thy way, and may the good
Father of all guitie and preserve thee wheresoever thou gocst."

They parted, and Lancelot rode forward into the forest in
the direction of Camelot. That night he loiiged at the hut of
a poor forester. Next morning's sun found him again upon the
way. Suddenly, as he rode quietly along, he ' eld a knight racing
toward him, pursued by tv.'o others. He reined in his horse and
waited for them to come up; and he saw that the knight in distress
was no other than Sir Kay, Arthur's seneschal and foster-brother.
Sir Lancelot went to his aid, and in a furious fight the two robber-
knights were killed. But in the fray Sir Lancelot's horse was
slain.

" Ah, Sir Lancelot! " cried Sir Kay, as soon as he could speak,
" 'Tis a luck) ...,ng for me that you happened to be riding this
way! They would have had me in another minute! Did you find
the adventures that you sought? Surely you must, for this is a
land of cutthroats and robbers! Woe is me! I am sent upon a
quest for my lord Arthur, and well do T know that I shall never re-
turn alive! "

"Tut, Sir Kay!" chided Lancelot, "where is your courage?"
But in his heart he pitied the seneschal and felt that what he
dreaded would likely come to pass. So he said: " Come, I will
tell you what to do. Let us make a trade. I will exchange my
armor for your horse and armor. With my shield and armor on,
you are safe, for most people where you are going would not
venture to try at arms with me, and you can buy a horse at the
nearest manor. As for me, I shall be safe enough, for I can de-
fend myself."

ARTHUR'S BEST FRIEND

And so ii catnc about ttiat I.ancdot and the seneschal exchanged
arms, and made many hearts sorry thereby. For Sir Kay pass-rd
in peace many robbers and highwaymen who did not dare molest
him thinking him Sir Lancelot, whose power as a swordsman was
well known in that vicinity. 1 lad they guessed the cowardly heart
that beat under Sir Lancelot's armor and seen how the arm trembled
that bore Sir Lancelot's shield, Sir Kay would surely have been
slain !

As Sir Lancelot rotie on toward Camelot, four of Arthur's knights
espied him, ami they nudged each other, saying: " Behold the
senseclial, how proudly he bears himself! N'erily, the honor of hia
position goes to his head like new wine! He rides like the great
Chief of Knights. Sir Lancelot himself. Let us break his pride! "

.And tiicy laid their heails together and planned to frighten him
by disguising themselves and asking him to cross swords with one
ot their number.

Now Lancelot knew the four at once and divined their plan,
liut he gave no sign. Laughing in his sleeve, he assumed the voice
(it Sir Kay, and challenged the party either singly or in a body.
The knights were astounded, for they had expected Sir Kay to
take Hight distantly, and they murmured among themselves, but
mirthfully accepted the challenge. Their mirth was changed to
humiliation when the supposed seneschal not only defeated each
in turn but all in a body! .And they drew away with hanging
heads, and would not even accompany this changed Sir Kay to
court, as he Invited them to do. Bitter as gall was the thought
that they, who considered themselves among the flower of Arthur's
knights, had been defeated by the seneschal, a mere farmer and
keeper of grain-bins, who scarce knew one shield from another!

Great was the rejoicing when Sir Lancelot, after some further

adventures, finally reached Camelot. The knights released from

Turqulne's dungeon and Sir Kay had all arrived before him, and

loudly had they praised him. King Arthur felt that his beloved

knight had indeed done him great service, and was prepared to

3-) iHi; sroKV OF idvi.i.s (jf thf king

sh.HV I., uial.it all h<.n..r. A ^;ri- it tc;ist was riKulc ready which
almost rivalt-a that <.l the I'cntecost, to he held on the morrow.
Praises, jests, and mern.nent ran hij^h, hut prohahly the hap(iiest
souls in all that vast throng were the four knights who learned
that they hail tested swords with the thamiiion hitiiself instead of
the Kind's steuard. Ami in all the land of I'.nj^land there was not
at this time any tuan, excepting the Kin^ himself, who was so loved,
so honored and so worthy of -11 reverence as Sir Lancelot of the
Lake, son of King Ban of Bcnwick.

CHAP UK IV

llir. MAKklACl. or AKIIUR

YOl' will rcmi-mbcr that wIuti Arthur was crowned, many
kings ruled in the isle of Britain. I'.ver they waged war
with one another, laying in waste a great part of the laml,
and from time to time the heathen hosts swarmed froni o\er the
sea and harried what was left. So there came to he many great
tracts of wilderness where man was never seen and where wild
beasts roamed at will. In parts of the wilderness there dwelt a
fearful animal known as the loup-garou, or man-wolf, a creature,
halt-man and haif-wolf, that devoured men, women and children.

I he land of C'ameliard, where Leodogran was king, suffered
most from the wild heists and heathen that overran its borders.
.Much of the country was covered by thick, wet woods, and by day
as well as by night, the wild dog, the wolf, the bear, and the boar
came to root in the fields and gardens of the King, and ever and
anon they would steal a child and drag him away to their foul dens,
Leodogran was greatly troubled and knew not where to turn for
aid, his castle guard having been wasted by heathen hordes and
recent fighting with his neighbor, King Urion. At last he heard
of the crowning of .Arthur, and of how the new king tried faith-
fully to measure justice to all. So he sent word to him, saying:
" Arise, and help us I For here between man and beast we die."

.Arthur's tender heart was filled with compassion, and he sum-
moned his knights around him and bade them prepare for the
journey. Not once did he pause to think that he was yet but
little used to battle (for this was in the early days of his reign),
or of how much his own affairs needed looking after, for there was
yet much bitter, smoldering revolt against him in his kingdom.

Now it chanced that as Arthur and his noble knights tiled into

31 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

the gateway at Can eliard, Leodogran's daughter, the beautiful
Guinevere. " fairest of all flesh on earth," was waiting by the castle
wall to .ce them pass. She glanced up, and the King, look.ng deep
into her eyes, felt that her lovely image was engraved upon his
heart forever. The princess drew back, blushing. But as Arthur
wore no symbol of his kinghood, and rode as i simple knight
among his followers, many of whom were in richer arms than he,
she knew him not. The King paused not to reveal himself, but his
pulses throbbed and he deteimined to fight a good battle for King
Leodogran and ask him fo. his beautiful daughter's hand as a re-
ward. ,

So Arthur pitched his tent beside the forest and drove out the
heathen. Then he slew the wild beasts and felled the forest, let-
ting in the sun, and making broad pathways for the hunter and
the knigKt. As he was about to go to King Leodogran, a mes-
senger from his own land came hurrying, bidding him to make haste
if he would save his throne, for tne rebel kings who questioned his
right to reign were gathering their forces once more. And
Arthur was obliged to put back the love that was stirring in his
heart and hurry to the call of his country. But as he went he
mused and pondered about Guinevere and his own lonely state as
king without a bride, and he pondered in these words:

" What happiness to reign a lonely king,
Vext O ye st.irs that shudder over me,

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 everything,
Have power on this Hark land to lighten it,
And power on this dead world to make it live."

THE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR

When Arthur and uis knights came to the field where the rebel
kings were drawn up in battle ranks, the day became suddenly so
bright and clear that " the smallest rock far on the faintest hill "
could be plainly seen, and, though It was high day, the morning
star shone brightly. As the King unfurled his banners, from both
sides rose loud shouts and trumpet blasts and clarion calls that
thrilled the blood. Then with drawn lances the thousand rebel
hosts came thundering to meet Arthur's army. And nobly did the
knights withstand the shock! There ensued a great crash and
clattering of steel, and now the barons and kings prevailed and now
Arthur and his knights. But at last God showed His hand on
Arthur's side; for all at once " the Powers who walk the world"
made lightnings and greac thunders over the King, and dazed all
eyes, and Arthur's hands seemed to grow mightier with every blow.
Then came a deep, wonderful voice from the four winds, shouting,
and the rebel hosts huddled together sore afraid, and, when the
voice ceased, they broke in wild flight. But when Arthur's knights
would have pursued them, dealing death on every hand, their peace-
loving King cried : " Ho ! they yield ! "

" So like a painted battle the war stood
Silenced, the living quiet as the dead,
And in the heart of Arthur joy was lord."

And he turned laughingly to Lancelot, his beloved guard, who
had kept faithfully at his side throughout .>e battle, exclaiming:
" Thou dost not doubt me King, so well thine arm hath wrought for
me to-day."

" Sire and my Liege," crrd Lancelot admiringly, " the fire of
God descends upon thee in the battle-field; I know thee for my
King!"

And the two swore there on the field of death a deathless love.
And Arthur clasped the knight's hands in his own as he said
solemnly: " Man's word is God In man. Let chance what will,
I trust thee to the death."

34 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KLXG

As soon as he had returned to Came'ot, Arthur's heart and
mind again turned to the beautiful Guinevere, and he, therefore,
sent three of his trusted knights, Ulfius, Bras'.'is, and Bedivere, with
a message to King Leodogran, saying: " If I in aught have served
thee well, give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife."

King Leodogran was greatly troubled. He admired Arthur and
was deeply grateful to him for ridding Cameliard of its enemies;
also he saw that it would be of immense advantage to himself to be
related to so powerful a king; but he did not feel like giving Arthur
his greatest treasure, which was his only daughter. He had heard
some of the murmurings of the rebel kings and feared lest Arthur
as they said of him, were not of royal blood. So he pondered in
his heart, being resolved never to give his daughter to any except
a true king and the son of a king at that.

He summoned his old, gray-haired chamberlain, and inquired of
him: " Know you aught of Arthur's birth?"

But the chamberlain, whom he trusted above all men, could
give him no satisfaction, and the King rebuked him half-angrily,
saying: "O friend, had I been holpen half as well by this King
Arthur as by thee to-day, then beast and men had had their share
of me."

Then Ulfius, Brastias, and Bedivere were summoned, and Sir
Bedivere ^ook it upon iiimself to satisfy the King; but Leodogran
doubted sti.'l.

Now, either by chance or design, for she was wondrous wise,
Queen Bellicent, wife of Lot of Orkney, and her two sons came
knocking at the castle door for admittance, and Leodogran was
forced to make a feast and entertain her. As they sat at meat,
he remembered that she was a kinswoman of King Arthur, and so
determined to question her, beginning in this wise: "A doubtful
throne is Ice on summer seas. You come from Arthur's court.
Victor his men report him. Yea, but do you think this king —
so many there are that hate him, and his knights so few, how-

THE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR

fvrr urave they be — hath body enough to hold his foemcn

And the Queen, for reasons best known to herself, sent her
sons from the room, and told Leodogran all she knew of Arthur,
giving various stories that were afloat concerning his birth, and
telling how, when she asked Merlin concerning the shining dragon-
ship and the naked child cast up by the sea, the wizard had mocked
her in riddling rhymes, saying:

" 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 leal
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."

She told of Arthur's crowning and the miracles shown at that
time, and said to the King heartily: " Fear not to give Arthur
thine only child, Guinevere, for he is a true king, and Merlin hath
sworn that though men may wound him he will not die, but pass
to come again, and then or now utterly smite the heathen under-
foot, till these and all men hai) him for their king."

Her words left King Leodogran as unconvinced as before, and
he decided to sleep over the matter. That night the truth came
to him in a dream, as truth so often does come to man. He be-
held as in a vision Arthur standing crowned in the heavens, while
all his foes and those who spoke against him melted away like mists
before the morning sun. And Leodogran awoke and sent word
to Sir Bedivere and his comrades, bidding them tell Arthur that
his suit was granted.

There was great joy in Arthur's heart when the good tidings
were heard, and he prepared to have the marriage take place

36 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

at once. As urgent state affairs called for his presence at home, he
could not go for his bride himself; so he asked Sir Lancelot to
go in his stead. And Lancelot consented right willingly, for he
was pleased that the King should show so much confidence in him.

It was the latter part of April when Lancelot set out, and
the May flowers were blooming when he left Cameliard on the
return journey with the beautiful princess. On every hand was
the breath of spring, life, and love. Blue isles of heaven glanced
upon them through the fresh, shimmering green of the forest trees,
sunbeams danced madly around them, the flowers gave their sweet-
est fragrance, and the birds fairly made the woods ring with their
Icve anthems. The road seemingly lay through the very heart
of Nature's most brilliant beauty, and endless were the ench-'-^ting
pictures presented; but to Lancelot the loveliest picture of an was
the Princess Guinevere. Clad in a beautiful gown of grass-green
silk buckled with golden clasps, and crowned with a light green
tuft of waving plumes, she seemed the very Queen of Nature and
type of all that the wood-thrush sang in his dreamy notes. So
charming she looked as she lightly sat her cream-white mule and
swayed the rein with her dainty finger tips, that Lancelot felt
a man might well give all his worldly worth for one kiss from her
perfect lips, and in so thinking failed to see that the thought was
treachery to the King.

At last they came to Camelot and the waiting King, who
hastened eagerly forward to greet his bride. Now as yet the prin-
ress had not seen the King, and she scanned his fair, handsome
face eagerly, thinking half discontentedly to herself that she pre-
ferred Lancelot's dark eyes and raven hair to her lord's curling
locks of gold and eyes of laughing blue ! Yet she made no sign,
and knelt with Arthur on cloth-of-gold before the beautiful, white
altar of Camelot, where the great St. Dubric, the holy head of the
Church of Britain, spoke the solemn vows that made them one.

" Behold, thy doom is mine," said Arthur, speaking the last
words of the service softly and tenderly, his voice sounding like

THE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR

sweetest music. "Let chance what will, I love thee to the

death 1"

And the new-made queen replied with drooping eyes, " King,
and my lord, I love thee to the death 1 "

Then the holy Dubric spread his hands in blessing. " Reign ye,
and live and love," he said, " 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 its King! "

The King and the Queen then left the shrine and went forth into
the beautiful, white city, which seemed all on fire with sun and cloth-
of-gold. Children dressed in white ran before them, strewing
flowers in their pathway and leading them on to the palace.
White-garbed knights, rejoicing in Arthur's joy, blew their trumpets
madly, and then broke forth in one grand, rich chorus that seemed
to fill the very heavens:

" Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May!
Blow trumpet, the long night hath roU'd aw:iy!
Blow thro' the living world—' Let the King reign! '

"Shall Rome or Heathen rule in Arthur's realm?
Flash brand and lance, fall battle-ax on helm,
Fall battle-ax, and flash brand! Let the King reign!

" Strike for the King and live! His knights has-e heard
That God hath told the King a secret word.
Fall battle-ax, and flash brand! Let the King reign!

i I

" Blow trumpet! he will lift us from the dust.
Blow trumpet! live the strength and die the lust!
Clang battK--ax, and clash brand! Let the King reign!

"Strike for the King and die! and if thca diest,
The King is king, and ever wills the highest.
Clang battle-ax, and clash b.and! Let the King reign!

38 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

" Blow, for our Sun is mighty in his May!
Blow, for our Sun is niij^litier day by day!
Clant; battle-ax, and clash brand! Let the King reign!

" The King will follow Christ, and we the King,
In whom high God hath breathed a secret thing.
Fall battle-ax, and flash brand! Let the King reign! "

CHAPTER V
Arthur's knemiics at court

EVKS as Arthur sat at the wedding banquet, with his bride
on one side and Sir Lancelot on the other, his enemies could
not leave him in peace. In there came some lords from
Rome — delegates of the Roman Emperor — to claim tribute as
of old. But Arthur would not listen to them, saying:

"Nay, the old order changeth, yielding place to new; tribute
to whom tribute is due, custom to whom custom. And since ye
are grown too old and weak to do your part and guard this realm
from heathen enemies, there shall be no more talk of tribute."

Then the great lords departed in anger, and Arthur was obliged
to go to war with Rome to enforce his word. So he was given
but little time to make the acquaintance of his beautiful queen,
and it was with a sad heart that he left her in the care of Sir Lance-
lot and a few nfher trusted knights who were chosen to guard the
palace and the ladies of the Court. But Arthur was mighty in
battle and the excitement of the fray was music to his soul, so the
time passed rapidly, after all. And in three months he was able
to turn joyfully homeward, having defeated the Romans in twelve
great battles and utterly put them to rout.

For a time Arthur was allowed to enjoy life In Camelot. There
were no enemies without to subdue, and It seemed as though his
beautiful dream of spending the rest of his days in peace was to be
realized, when all at once he found that there vere many traitors
about him. Jealousy was beginning to creep in, and here and
there were envious souls who coveted the throne. Every now and
then It was whispered that Arthur was not the man to be king,
that his strength lay only In his powerful sword, Excalibur, and that
without it he would be as nothing. The knights, too, were slip-

40 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

ping from their high standard. Without battles to fight, time hung
heavily upon their hands, and they sapped their strength with much
feasting, with unseemly jousts, and bouts at the gaming tables.
Also the finger of scorn was pointed secretly at Sir Lancelot and
Queen Guinevere, and it was whispered that the beautiful queen
loved Lancelot instead of the King. But of these last idle whis-
perings not a word did King Arthur hear. He was too pure
and noble himself to see aught but good in others, and he did
not even dream of doubting his wife or of questioning the loyalty
of his beloved knight whom he regarded as a brother.

Now the chief whisperer of the throng at Court and the in-
stigator of most of the mischief was one Modred, Arthur's nephew,
son of Queen Bellicent of Orkney. He was a wily, oily-tongued
sc'jundrel, who did all he could to work himself into King Arthur's
good graces and then prepared to do him harm when his back was
turned. It was Modred's desire to drive .■\rthur from the throne
and seat himself upon it, and he was aided and abetted in his
slander of the Queen by Vivien, the sorceress, who, you will re-
member, was to destroy Merlin by shutting him up in the hol-
low oak. She hated Arthur because he was pure and good and
refused to submit to her charms, and she knew that she could
hurt him most by bowing low the head of the beautiful queen whom
he loved with all his heart.

There was another who hated Arthur, and despised and envied
the Queen. This was Queen Morgan le Fay, sister to Queen
Bellicent and half-sister, also, to Arthur. Beautiful was she be-
yond description, and as false as she was fair, — a very fiend
among women. Mistress of many witches' charms, she determined
to capture the sword Excalibur, and have Arthur put to death;
then she would establish her lover on the throne as King, and
reign herself as Queen.

It was not hard to get Excalibur, as Arthur had never yet re-
alized the need of keeping it under guard. So Queen Morgan le
Fay found out v/here it was kept, and bided her time. Soon

ARTHUR'S EN EM IKS AT COURT

King Arthur and her husband, King Uricn, and Sir Accolan, a brave
but foolish kni^^ht who had allowed himself to become smitten
with Queen Morgan !e Fay's charms, felt a strange desire to go
hunting in each other's company, and set out together for the deep
forest. Hardly had they entered it when a young hart sprang
up in their pathway anil they chased it for many a weiry mile.
At last Sir Lhicn lamed his horse, and the three dismounted and
gave chase on foot, as it was evident that the hart was nearly spent.
Finally it disappeared completely and the men found themselves
standing hopelessly bewiKlered by the side of a strange lake. In
a moment their eyes took in what appeared to be a deserted ship
riding at anchor close to the shore, and King Arthur proposed that
they go aboard and explore her.

They found the ship to be a most beautiful little vessel, richly
and admirably fitted up, and they spent so much time over it that
night was upon them before they were aware of it. Then there
was a sound as of clapping hands, and in a twinkling sailors ap-
peared on every side, and twelve damsels, clad in white, came and
bowed before the King welcoming him warmly. Then they in-
vited the men to come out to supper in the tiny salon, where they
pressed all manner of dainties upon them, and there was niuch
feasting. Being weary with the day's chase, the men soon asked
if they could stay there for the night, and were shown at once
to separate sleeping apartments where they fell immediately into
deep, dreamless slumber.

When King Urien awoke he found himself at home in the
chamber with his wife. Sitting up, he stared about him in dis-
may, half wondering if the hunt and what followed had been a
dream. Then, catching sight of the mocking smile on his wife's
face as she watched him under half-closed lids, he at once sus-
pected that the whole business was one of her charms, and doubted
not that some treason against Arthur was Intended. But he spoke
never a word.

As for King Arthur, he was even at that moment lying among

42 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF TRi: KINCJ

some twenty knights in a distant dungeon, where he had found
himself on awakening.

As soon as his first surprise was over, he began to question those
about him and learned that he was imprisoned by Sir Uamas, a
wicked knight who falsely kept from his inheritance his younger
brother, Sir Ont/lake.

" Damas causes travelers to be taken prisoners by a band of
his robbers," explained a knight, " in the hope that he will one
day get hold of a champion to fight and kill Sir Ontzlake for him.
Damas is a coward and refuses brave Ont/.lake's entreaty that
he will fight him single-handed for the inheritance, or else that he
will provide a knight to fight for him Now there is not among
us a knight that would fight for Damas. We would far rather
starve in prison 1 "

I hen the Lord deliver you ! " exclaimed Sir Arthur com-
passionately.

As he spoke a fair damsel appeared before Arthur, inquiring,
"Whatchc'T?"

" Alas," answered the King sadly, " I know not. But stay,"
he added quickly, as the maiden half turned away, " methinks I
have seen thee at the Court of Arthur?"

" Nay," answered the maiden, smiling and dimpling, '' I have
not been there." Yet it was a falsehood she told, for she was
one of Morgan le ^^ay's maidens and was secretly pleased to think
that the great king remembered her. " I am of Sir Damas' house-
hold, and I am sent to tell you that you shall be delivered, if you
will but consent to fight a knight for Sir Damas."

" I will do so gladly," answered Arthur, for he was of no mind
to die in prison. " If only I m;iv have a good sword, horse, and
armor, and also if my fellow prisoners may be freed."

" All shall be as you require," replied the maiden. " My master
will be greatly pleased. I will come for you within the hour, and
shall bring with me your great sword, Excalibur." And she de-
parted, smiling.

ARTHUR'S ENEMIES AT COURT

And now let us turn for a moment and see how it had fared
with the third member of the hunting party, Sir Accolan. He
awoke to find himself in the heart of a deep forest, and as he
stood rubbing his eyes in amazement and wondering which way
to turn, a damsel appeared before him.

" I bid you good cheer. Sir Accolan," she observed smilingly
and curtseyed prettily before him. " I am come from Queen
Morgan le Fay. She bids you take heart and follow me."

"Whither dost thou lead?" queried Sir Accolan, half minded
to turn and run the other way, for he was sore frightened and
bewildered.

" To the home of Sir Ontzlake near at hand," answered the
maiden. " He will aid thee ami set thee on the way."

And so perforce the knight followed the maiden and presently
came to the Ontzlake castle where the lord of the manor welcomed
bim heartily and caused food to be set before him. As they sat
at meat a messenger arrived from Sir Damas, bidding Sir Ontz-
lake to present himself at two o'clock near the old tower if he
wished to test his strength for the inheritance.

" Alas," mourned Sir Ontzlake, " 'tis the opportunity I most de-
sire, but it has come at an ill-fated time. Here am I with a broken
rib and a severe lance wound In my sword arm. How can I fight
and come ofif victorious? Yet if I do not consent, my brother will
never again make the offer and I shall forever lose my birthright I
Wee is me ! "

" Indeed, Sir Ontzlake," cried Sir Accolan quickly. " You are
in sore st.aitsi Allow me to offer myself in your stead. 'Twould
be a pleasure to do this thing for you in return for the kindness
you have shown me."

" Thank you kindly, friend, and the Lord reward you ! " an-
swered Sir Ontzlake warmly. " I am minded to accept your aid in
the same spirit in which you offer It. You aie a brave and noble
knight, and a man after my own heart! If you will do this thing
tor me then you need never want for a friend so long as Harry

44 lin- S'lORV OK IDYLLS OF II IL KlNCi

Ont^lakc lives! Ami you may commarul nic even to the half of
my Inheritance, and it is thme! "

" Zounds! man, say no more," cried Sir Accolan. " Is it not
reward enough if 1 may call thee friend? Have 1 not heard of
thy ^oodtiess and bounty and how thou art beloved of all within
thy j^atis? Then, too, I am of ihc Court of Arthur and sworn
to help all worthy persons in need of aid. Provide me with sword
and arms at once, 1 pray thee. I but do my duty."

And so it came to pass that at precisely two o'clock King Arthur
and Sir Accolan rushed upon each other, both having been so
changed in that lonj,', dreamless sleep that neither one recognized
the ottier. I'rom the very first the battle was fierce, for both
were skilled swordsmen, and many were the admiring shouts drawn
from the bystanders, who were composed of Sir Damas and his
household, the knights fiom the dun-reon, and Sir Ontzlake and
his retainers.

Soon King Athur wr-j covered with blood, while his assailant
showed scarce a wound, and Arthur marveled much. It seemed
to him as though Excalibur swung lightly in his hand and refused
to bite steel as he was wont to do. And presently he became con-
vinced that there was treachery somewhere and felt sure that his
opponent held the real Excalibur, for tne two swords were seem-
ingly alike, and he knew that his sister, Morgan le Fay, whom the
damsel said had sent the sword, had played him false. All at
once Arthur's s nr.l snapped ofif close to the hilt, and he was weak
and faint and f< it that he must die, yet he was too proud and brave
to cry for quarter.

" Zounds, man ! " cried Sir Accolan admiringly, " you are the
bravest knight that ever swung sword." And all present felt that
he spoke truly and marveled how Arthur could fight as he did,
being so sorely wounded. "Will you not give in, friend? I dis-
like to slay a defenseless man! You can fight no longer wiih a
broken sword! " said Sir Accolan.

Then a strange thing happened. There came a sound as of the

ARTHUR'S KNEMIKS AT COl'RT

rusliing of many waters and the I.ady of the Lake appeared in
a cloud of mist and stood at Arthur's siile. But he saw her not.
At that momciit he maile a wild, despairin^j charj^c at Sir Ac-
colan, striking him with the hilt of his broken sword and so daz-
ing him that he lunged forward and dropped his own. In a mo-
ment Arthur sprang forward and caught it up, and gave a mad
shout as he recognized it. For it was I'lxcalihur which he had in
his hand, and the jewels which had beamed dull in the hands of
Sir Accolan now shone brightly and gave forth a light as of many
torches, and the people huddled together amazed.

Then Arthur cried compassionately to hi opponent, who had
struggled to his feet but remained standing with his head bowed
so that he saw not the miracles: " PViend, will you not ask for
mercy? I care not to kill you when you are not in the wrr.ig
and fight the battle of another! "

But Sir Accolan shook his head. " Alas, brave knight, I thank
you, but I can not do it. My swordsman's pride is too great. Do
your duty according to custom. But first tell me from what Court
aie you, for I never before saw so brave a man! '*

As he spoke he raised his eyes, and in that moment the Lady
of the Lake made a few strange passes and the change which had
disguised the faces of Arthur and Sir Accolan rolled away. E'ach
knew the other and fell back amazed.

"Alas! my King!" cried Sir Accolan, in a voice choked with
horror and lears. "Thy forgiveness I Implore! I knew thee
not, else had I died rather than strike thee! "

" It is freely granted, my friend and most brave knI^iht," an-
swered Arthur kindly. " I know you fought me blindly. 'Tis
the work of my wicked sister, Morgan le F'ay, the enchantress.
She would fain see me slain." Then he turned angrily to Sir
D imas and flashed the light of Excalibur into his eyes so that he
wns sore afraid and trembled until his kr.ees smote together. " Sir
Damas there will be no more fighting to-day! I command thee
to give to thy brother, Sir Ontzlake, his full share of the inheritance,

46 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

and so to live that thou shalt be an honor to thy country and the
peerage I If thou dost this not, then shall thy life be the for-
feit!"

So saying, the King turned about and beckoned to Sir Accolan
signifying his readiness to depart. But ere they could start, Sir
Ontzlake came fonvard and kneeled before the King, begging him
.and Sir Accolan to come home with him and be his guests until
the morrow for darkness was even then descending upon them.
This thr King gladly consented to do, and when morning dawned
Sir Ontzlake not only provided them with horses to make the
journey but petitioned King Arthur to swear him into the Order
of the Round Table that he might dwell with him and his knights
forever.

In this -vay Queen Morgan le Fay's scheme had failed, and she
knew it on the instant and fled with all speed from the Court lest
Arthur wreak vengeance upon her when he came home. But
Arthur's knights told him where she had gone, and when Sir Ac-
colan died from his wou: ds four days after reaching Camelot,
Arthur caused his remains to be placed upon a bier and sent to
her, under guard of six knights, with the following message:

"Behold your work! Take your lover and mourn him well!
But see that you plan no more treason for I have my sword Ex-
calibur again."

This message Mled Morgan 'e Fay with bitter anger, but she
was nearly heartbroken over the loss of Sir Accolan, and fdt that
she cared not to reign as queen if she could not have him on the
throne beside her. So she nursed her wrath quietly, and gave no
sign. And because of this Arthur was merciful and would not al-
low his knights to go after her and burn her at the stake, as they
wished to do.

•After many days there came to Arthur one of Queen Morgan le
F'^iy's handmaid -ns bearing a " peace-offering." It was a most
heautiful cloak, all decorated and embroidered with beautiful stones.
And .Arthur was pleased for he though: his sister had repented,

ARTHUR'S ENEMIES AT COURT

inasmuch as the maiden assured him solemnly that the queen de-
sired to make amends for the wrong she had done him.

As the King extended his hands to receive the cloak, a blinding
mist fell upon those who stood near, and when they could see
clearly again they beheld the Lady of the Lake whispering to
Arthur. And the King's brow grew black, but at the end of the
conference he turned quietly to the damsel and observed softly:
" Damsel, let me first see this cloak upon you, that I may the better
observe it."

The damsel smilingly obeyed him and threw the cloak about
her shoulders. The next moment the girl fell dead at the feet
of the King. A great clamor then ensued and the knights de-
manded that they be allowed to go out and wreak vengeance upon
the queen for the death blow which the'r beloved King had so
narrowly escaped.

At first Arthur would r consent, but when Lancelot and Queen
Guinevere had added their pleadings to the others, he gave way
nd allowed Lancelot and Ontzlake to lead a party against her.
Tlie queen's spies informed her that they were coming, and when
they reached her castle she and her castle knights had fled into
the forest. But all to no purpose, for the knights pursued her
hotly and eagerly, and the queen soon saw that unless she re-
sorted to witchcraft she would be taken. So she changed herself
and her knights into columns of stone. Soon Lancelot and Ontz-
lake lost the trail nor could they find it again, and they finally
paused beside the very column of stone which hid the queen and
gave vent to their wrath and disappointment.

For many days the knights tarried in the forest, but they finally
gave up the search and v "-; back to Camelot. Then the queen
resurrected herself and h men and they went away to the north
of England; nor did she ever dare to show herself in the Court
of Arthur again. But her husband. King Urien, remained one of
.Arthur's most faithful knights until his death, having wisely ac-
cept d the advice of Arthur when he counseled him, saying:

48 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

" Thy wife, my sister Morgan ie Fay, is as false as she is fair.
Cleave not unto her. I know from the mouth of Sir Accolan that
she intended to do away with thee and crown him King, had she
succeeded in her evil designs against me. Of course, I can have
no one from her household in my Court, but I desire thee to re-
main if so thou hast naught to do with her, for I think thou hast
never been a party to her evil doings. But there are some among
her kinsmen that must be banished."

Sir Unvvain and Sir Baumain, nephews of Queen Morgan le
Fay, who had openly aided her, were then banished from the
Court, and afterward made great trouble for Arthur by stirring
up rebellions among the border ki.igs and by annoying him in
many petty ways. But the wily Modred, guiltiest soul among
them, managed to escape the suspicions of Arthur and remained
at Court to hatch the worst conspiracy of all — the breaking up
of the Round Tabic and the death of the noble King.

CHAPTER VI

GARETII OF ORKNEY

QUEEN BELLICENT, wife of Lot of Orkney, and half-
sister to Kmg Arthur, was the mother of three stalwart
sons. Two of them, Sir Modred and Sir Gawain, were
knights of King Arthur, as we have already seen. The third
and youngest, Gareth, tallest, cleanest-limbed and most noble of
them all, was still at home. And though he chafed to go and
help to work the will of Arthur in cleansing the world, his mother,
foolish in her love and worship jf him, would not consent.

" My son," she was wont to say in answer to his eager plead-
ings, "hast thou no pity for my loneliness? Lo, thy father, Lot,
lies like a log all day beside the hearth! He is old and unfit to
manage his estates, and both thy brethren are in Arthur's hall.
Red berries ever charm the young bird, but stay ihou with me,
my best beloved! Rule well thy father's kingdom: follow the
deer — sweet is the chase — and let wars and jousts and tourna-
ments pass by. Make thy manhood mightier day by day by do-
ing thy duty faithfully here at Orkney till I am old and passed
away, and I will seek thee out some fair bride to grace thy home
and halls and comfort us! Stay, my best son, thou art yet more
boy than man! ''

And once Gareth, overwrought, answered thus: "Aye, and
as you hold me yet for a child, hear now the story of a child that
might be like me: Mother, there was once a king whose heir,
when tall and marriageable, asked for a bride; and thereupon
the King set two before him. One was fair, strong-armed — 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 ether, whom

%■

50 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

no man desired,— a red-faced bride who knew !.erself so vile that
evermore she longed to hide herself. And one, they called her
Hme; and the other one was Shame! Oh, Mother, how can you
keep me here tethered to you? Man am I grown; a man's work
must I do. follow the deer? No! Follow the Christ, the
King; live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King — else
wherefore born?"

And the mother sought once more to dissuade him, and spoke
of the doubt in the minds of some people as to whether Arthur
really were the true king, closing with the entreaty: "Stay till
the cloud that settles around his birth hath lifted but a little Stay
sweet son! "

Then Gareth answered quickly: " Nay, Mother, not one hour,
so that you yield me. I would walk through fire, Mother, to gain
your full leave to go! And who can say Arthur is not p. oven
king? Who swept the dust of ruined Rome from off the thresh-
old of our realm, crushed the Idolaters, and made the people free?
Who should be king save he who makes us free? "

But Queen Bellicent answered not his quick questions, her keen
mind having taken hold of what he was willing to endure, and
seemingly shown her a way of escape. "And will yoM walk
through fire? " she queried craftily. " He who walks through fire
will hardly heed the smoke. Aye, go then, if you must, but before
you ask the King to make you knight, I demand one proof of your
obedience and your love of me."

And Gareth cried in.patiently : " A hard one, or a hundred, so
1 go! Give me the proof and test me to the quick! "

" Prince," saic the queen mother, speaking slowly, " 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 shnlt thou tell thy name
to any one. And thou shalt serve a twelve-month and a day."

In this way the queen hoped to discourage him; for she felt
that if there were no way open to glory for her princely-proud

GARETH OF ORKNEY 51

son excepting through the avenue of the kitchen-vassalage, the poor-
est post in the King's household, he would give up the idea. But
she tiid not know Gareth of Orkney!

Only a moment he pondered, and then answered sadly: "The
thrall in person may be kee In soul, and I shall see the jousts.
Thy son am I, and since thou art my mother, must obey. I there-
fore yield me freely to thy will. So hence will I, disguised, and hire
myself to serve with scullions and with kitchen-knaves; nor tell my
name to any — no, not the King."

Great was the chagrin and grief of Queen Belllcent when he
accepted her terms, and Gareth, seeing this, tarried for a few days,
for he loved his mother and disliked to leave her in sorrow. And
there arose in the queen's heart a hope that he would resolve to
stay. But one morning, while the castle household was yet asleep,
Garetii summoned his courage and clad himself like a tiller of the
soil; and taking with him his two faithful serving-men, who had
waited upon him since a child, he disguised them also, and quietly
set out for the Court of Arthur.

lor two days they journeyed to the southward and then on
the third, a bright, beautiful morning near Whitsuntide, they came
to the wonderful gates of Camelot, where they held their breath
in amazement. And as they stood with shining eyes drinking in
the beauty of the white city, they heard a blast of strange, sweet
music, and an old, gray-bearded man came forth and inquired of
them: " Who be ye, my sons?"

And Gareth answered straightway: " We be tillers of the soil,
come to see the glories of the King. But your city moves so weirdly
in the mist that these, my men, doubt If the King be king at all,
or come from Fairyland; and whether this city be built by magic
or by fairy kings and queens; or whether, indeed, there be any city
at all, or all a vision; and this music now hath brightened them
both, but do you tell them the tnith."

Now the old man was really Merlin in disguise, and he aw
through their pretense at once, hut he answered Gareth soberly.

52 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

though his eyes twinkled, " Son. I have seen the good ship sail keel
upwards in the heavens, and solid turrets topsy-turvy in the air.
And here is truth; but if it pleases thee not, take thou the truth
as thou hast told it to me! Truly as thou sayest, son, fairy kings
and queens have built this city. They came from out a sacred
mountain-cleft toward the sunrise, each with a harp in hand, and
built it to the music of their harps. And as thou sayest, son, it
is enchanted ; for there is nothing in it as it seems, saving the King.
And take thou heed of him; for thou art not what thou secmest,
and thou goest up to mock the King, who can uot brook the shadow
of any lie I "

Then Merlin motioned toward the gates and himself turned
sadly away, leaving Gareth filled with wonder and awe. And then
it dawned upon the youth that he had been speaking with Merlin,
and he laughed joyously and entered with his two followers. But
nevertheless his heart jumped into his throat as he went onward;
and when he finally came to the hall where the great Arthur Pen-
dragon sat crowned on his throne, his tongue clove to the roof
of his mouth for very fear and his knees smote together. " For
this half-shadow of a lie that I am acting, the truthful King will
doom me when I speak," he thought sorrowfully, and timidly he
glanced around half fearing that one or the other of his brothers,
Gawain or Modred, would recognize and unthinkingly betray him,
but he saw neither of them. Their absence gave him courage,
and he glanced about eagerly, noting the many knights who stood
with their eyes upon their ch'ef in love and faith.

And as Gareth watched and waited, people came before the
King with pleas for aid and justice, and the King heard their
causes one by one and delivered judgment; and none who
cried for succor cried in vain. And justice was meted out after
this manner:

First there came a widow to the King, crying: "A boon. Sir
King! Thy father, Uther, took from my lord a field by violence.
I pray thee make it right."

GARETH OF ORKNEY SJ

And Arthur asked: "What wouldst thou, woman, field or

gold?"

" The field, my Lord," replied the woman, weeping, " for it
was pleasant In my husband's eyes."

So Arthur, smiling, said: " Have thy pleasant fn-^d again, and
thrice the gold for Uther's use thereof, according to the years.
No boon is here; just common justice, so thy stor be proven true.
Accursed be he who from the wrongs his father did would shape
himself aright I "

And so the tales went on, and as each tale of suffering was
recited, some knight would cry: "A boon, Sir King! (Vive me
the leave to riglit this wrong! "

The King would grant the boon, and the knight would ride
away to redress the wrong, glad indeed to be of some small service
in doing battle for the Christ and his most blameless King.
Finally there came a messenger from King Mark of Cornwall,
bearing a magnificent present ' cloth-of-gold which he laid at
Arthur's feet, and kneeling, he asked that Mark be made a knight
of the Round Table.

" Just Heaven ! " cried Arthur, rising in mighty wrath, for Mark
was a traitorous, lying king, a coward who struck in the dark
when his foe's back was turned. "Hear I aright? Dare hat
traitor ask for a place for his shield here among these my tri.ted
knights and true? "

As he spoke, the King waved his hands toward the side walls,
and Gareth observed that on either hand was a treble row of shields
with a knight's name engraven beneath each. A knight standing
near him explained in a low voice that it was Arthur's custom when
a knight had done one noble deed to have his arms carved, and
for each other knightly deed he did a jewel was added. And
Arthur straightway looked for his brothers' shields and saw
Gawaln's all bright and shining with jewels, but Modred's was dim
and blank as death.

Then Garcth's eyes wandered back to Arthur, and he saw him

54 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF IHE KING

rend the cloth In two and cast it upon the blazing hearth, crc he
turned to the shrinking messenger. " Thy Mark hath tarnished
the great name ot King, and he would sully the low state of churl I
But, seeing he hath sent us cloth-of-gold, return thou and hold
him from our eyes lest we lap him up In cloth of lead! Craven,
man of plots, craft, poisonous counsels, wayside ambushings — "
Then the great King paused, silenced, perhaps, by the frightened
expression of the man who cowered before him, and said kindly:
" 'Tis no fault of thine, man. Seneschal, take him hence and satisfy
his hunger ere he leaves the Court. Accursed be he who strikes
and lets not his hand be seen I '*

Gareth was next in line, and, for a moment, his heart coun-
seled him to turn and run, but he subdued It and advanced bravely,
leaning on his men. "A boon, Sir King! For see you not how
weak and hunger-worn I seem, leaning on these? Grant me to
serve for meat and drink among your kitchen-knaves a twelve-
month and a day, nor seek my name. Hereafter I will fight."

The King answered him, saying: " A goodly youth and worth
a goodlier boon! But so thou wilt no goodlier, then must Sir Kay
be thy master."

Then the King rose and departed, and the knights went their
several ways. All this time Sir Lancelot's keen, dark eyes had
been observing Gareth, and he now came over to Sir Kay counseling
him to treat the lad kindly; for he believed him to be some noble
youth in disguise, some king's son bent on having a lark.

But Sir Kay secretly despised Lancelot, so he roughly bade
him mind his own business. And for this kindly meant interference
he made Gr cth suffer all the more. He called him Sir Fine-face
and Sir Fair-hands, and gave him the rudest place in the castle
for his bed, caused him to be served with the roughest food, and
forced him to do work beyond his strength. But for all this Gareth
never murmured. Bravely he bowed himself to obedience and
wrought with kindly plcasance for the King, gracii u: each lowly
act In the doing of It.

CARET 1 1 OF ORKNEY

And when the kitchcn-kiiavcs talked amon^j themselves, they
would tell the love that hound the Kin^ and Lancelot — how the
King hail saved his lite in battle twice, and Lancelot once the King's,
for Lancelot was the first in tournament, but Arthur mightiest on
the hattle-field, — and Gareth was glad. Or they would tell how
ontc the wandering forester at dawn, far over the blue towns and
ha/y seas, found the King, a naked babe, of whom the prophet
spake : " He passes to the Isle of Avalon. I le passes and is healed
and can not die " — and Gareth rejoiced in their tale.

But if their talk was foul, then would he whistle rapid as any
lark, or carol some old song so loudly that at first they mocked,
but after came to reverence him. And if a tale of knightly deeds
and daring were wanted, then Gareth's was the tongue to spin it;
and he held all the knaves spell-bound till Sir Kay's angry voice
would be heard and they would scatter like leaves before the wind.
And if, perchance, the knaves chanced to play at jousts, then Gareth
easily won above all the rest. And so life went on for a month
or more, until the queen, his mother, repented of the hard vows
she had made her beloved boy swear, and sent arms and a kindly
message to release him.

Then the heart of Gareth rejoiced. He laughed; he ran; he
leaped, and finally presented himself all breathless before .Arthur
and told him all: "Sire and my Liege," he cried, "I have
staggered thy strong Gawain in a tilt for pastime; yea, he said it:
joust can L NLike me thy knight in secret! Let my name be
hidden, and give me the first quest! "

The great King smiled in sympathy with him and observed
gently: " Son, thy good mother let me know of this, and askeii me
to yield thy wish. But, make thee my knight? Sir, my knights
arc sworn to vows of utter hardihood, utter gentleness, utter faith-
fulness in love, and utter obedience to the King."

And Gareth answered from his knees: "My King, for hardi-
hood I can promise thee. For uttermost obedience, ask the
seneschal, who, by the way, is no mellow master of meats and

56 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

drinks! For loving, 1 love not yet, but if it pleases fortune to
send me the maiden of my dreams, I can love truly, (jod willing."

King Arthur was pleasetl with the boy's reply, and consented
to make him a kni^;ht privately, providing his good friend and
counselor. Sir Lancelot, did not object.

So Lancelot was sent for and entered heartily into the plan,
and Gareth was knighted and danced away to the kitchen, still
in disguise. Then the K ng turned to his favorite knight and spoke
gravely, saying: "Lancelot, I have given him the first quest.
He is not proven. Look, therefore, when he calls for this in the
hall; get you to horse and follow him far away. Cover the lions
on your shield, that no man may know you, and see as far as you
may that he be not slain or taken prisoner."

Now it happened that early the next morning there came into
Arthur's hall a beautiful maiden of high lineage. Like the May-
blossom was her brow from which the golden-brown hair rippled
back, her cheeks rivaled the bloom of the delicate apple blossom,
her eyes gleamed like the starry night, her nose tip-tilted like the
petal of a flower, and all about her was an airy gracefulness and
perfume that made poor Gareth's head swim.

Very proud was this maiden, with opinions of her own, and
she proved them straightway by daring to lecture the King. " O
King," she cried, " you have driven away the foe without, why
suffer you the foe within? Every bridge, ford, and tower for
half a league around is beset by bandits! Why sit you there?
If / were King, I would not rest until even the loneliest hollow
were as free from bloodshed as your altar doth! "

" Comfort thyself," said Arthur softly, th( ugh his eyes
twinkled and he was secretly much amused, " neither I nor mine
rest. If my knights keep the vows they swore, the meanest moor-
land of our realm shall in time be as safe, damsel, as the center
of this hall. But pray what is thy name? And what thy need? "

Pleased by the courteous, kindly manner of the King, the maiden
spoke more gently: " My name is Lynetc;. I am come to seek

GARETH OF ORR.nEY

aid for my sister, the Lady I.yonors, who is imprisoned in Castle
I'erilous by a wicked knight who seeks to force her to wed h in.
Now this castle is wound about by three loops of a river, and over
it arc three passings. Fad- passing is defended by a knight, and
there is a fourth one, n ji c pow<rful than all the ntlicrs, who
defend th castle. And i demand of thee thy chief knight, Sir
I.. L'lot, to overcome these men, for no oilier can do itl "

"Ah I" observed the King, still speaking softly, but with his
mind fixed xx^on the lad, Ciareth, to whom he now regretted he
had been unwise enough to promise the first quest. '" Damsel, you
know this Order Ives n) crusli all wrongers of the Realm. But
tell me about these four, and who they are."

" They are of the old knight-errantry." answered Lynettc
(juickly. " No law or king have they, and courteous or bestial is
their manner, as best pleases them. Proud ot their strength are
they, and they call themselves the Day. Morning Star, Noon
Sun, and Evening Star are the three who guard the bridges, and
the castle guard is a huge, savage m i-beast, who names himself
Night, or more often, Death. He wears a helmc mounted with
a skull, and bears a skeleton fi^ur' d on his arms. These are four
fools, King, but mighty men; und lerefore am I come for Lance-
lot."

Hearing this, Gareth, with kindling eyes, called from where
he stood, a head taller than those about him in the throng: " A
boon, Sir King, this quest! " Then, as Sir Kay, w! o stood near
him, groaned like a wounded hull, he continued excitedly: " Yea,
King, thou know st thy kitchen-knave am L But I am mighty
through thy meats and drinks, and I can topple over a hundred
such! Thy promise. King!"

And Arthur, glancing at him wit', the frowning brows of per-
plexity, exclaimed shortly: G'l Thou art worthy!"

And all the hearers were ama ed.

As for the maiden, Lynette, anger, shame, and pride chased
away the May-white of her brow. Raising high her dimpled arms.

s«

'1HI-: STORY OF IDYLLS Ol- THL KING

she cried scornfully: " 1 ic <>n thcc, King! 1 asl;cd for thy chief
knight, and thou h.ist given mc but a kitchen-knave! " I hen, ere
man could stay her, she turned and flew swiftly from the iiall to
her horse witluuit the door, ;ind gidloped away through :he weird
white gate, never pausing untd she reacheil the tourney field where
she burst into angry tears, murmuring chokingly, " Kitchen-knave,
forsooth! I'ic upon him! "

In the meantime, Sir (iareth Hed another way to where stood
a horse, King Arthur's gift, the worth of half a town, a war horse
of the best, held in waiting, with spear and shield, by the two
who had followed Ciareth from the North. Loosening a
string, his kitchen garb fell off and he stood revealed betorc all
the kitchen thralls and curious knights who had followed him, a
noble knight in glittering, jeweled armor. From all the by-
standers rose a cry of admiration, and the kitchen-knaves threw
up their caps, shouting lustily: "God bless the King and all his
fellowship ! "

Then, fallowed by the cheers and good wishes of all save the
jealous-hearted Sir Kay, who cursed and grumbled so loudly that
Lancelot rebuked him sorely, Ciareth passed out from the gate
and spurred his horse to where the maiden still lingered by the
tourney field, murmuring: "Wherefore did the King scorn me?
I or, if it were impossible to send Lancelot, 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 tie upon him! — his kitchen-
knave ! "

When Gareth, looking full noble and handsome in his brave
attire, came up and bowed low in courtly fashion before her, say-
ing, " NLaiden, the quest is mine. Lead, and I follow," she cried
shrilly: "Hence! Avoid! Thou smellest all n' kitchen grease !
Aii.i look who comes behind! "

.\t this moment an angry bellowing came over Gareth's shoul-
der, and the voice of Sir Kay cried: " Knowest thou not me,
thy master? I am Kay. We lack thee by the hearth."

(JARKIH OF ORKNEY

riirniiiji quickly, (iaritli lululd tfic pompous seneschal astride
.1 lioiioucil tiorse, anil liis lirow ^rew black. " Master no more! "
he i.ruii storntuily. " I no \\i 11 1 know thee, the ii'ost ungentle
ktii^;lit in Ai'liurs h.ill." With that he (juickly unseated Kay,
.iiul leaMnj,' him with :; sli^jht swrd prit.k in his shoulder, j;alloped
alter the ia-.t Hying maiden.

When the heart of her good horse was well-nigh ready to burst
with \iolence of the pace, the iiaiden perforce drew rein, and,
o\ ertaken, s,p()ke :

''What dost thou, scullion, in my fellowship? Decmcst
thou that I accept thee more that by some ilevice full cow-
ardly th.)u hast overthrown thy master? 1 hou d'sh-washer
and broach-turner I To me thou smellest all of the kitchen as be-
fore ! "

" Damsel," Sir Gareth answered gently, lefusing to be rebuked
or angered by the hasty words or the scorn in her beautiful face,
" whatcNcr you will, and whatever you say, I leave not 'jntil I
linish this fair quest, or die."

"Aye, wilt thou finish it?" scoffed the maiden tantali/ingly.
"Sweet lord, how like a noble knight he talks! The listening
roL;ue hath caught the manner of it. But, knave, thou shalt be
met with knave, and by such a one that tliou, for all the kitchen
brews that were ever supped, shalt not once dare to look him in the
face."

I shall try," said Gareth, with a smile that maddened her, and
away she flashed again down the long avenues of the boundless
Hood.

Hut, after a time, she drew rein and turned hesitatingly to the
despised knave at her side, and his heart bounded as it seemed
to him there was less of scorn in her fair face. " Sir Kitchen-
knave, I have missed the only way where Arthur's men are
stationed through the wootl, and this forest is nigh as full
of thieves as leaves. We are lost. If both be slain, then I am
rid of thee. But yet, Sir Scullion, life is sweet, — and canst thou

6o THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

use that spear of thine? Fight if thcu k lowest how; for, thanks
to Arthur's scanty grace, I have mis'^^ci the road! "

And Ciareth tried to reassure the maiden, but finding she would
not listen to him, determined to ride bravely by her side and prove
his right to knighthood if he could. They were even then climb-
ing the long slope of a hill, and, when they came to the summit,
they beheld in the valley beyond a ^gloomy-shaded mere, and on
its banks were six strong men about to throw a bound man into
its depths.

A. id even as Gareth and the maiden looked, a frightened serv-
ing man burst through the bracken and cried co the knight: " Help,
my lord! The villains are drowning the baron, my master, a serv-
ant of King Arthur! "

Gareth needed no more words ; indeed he w^-uld probably have
gone to the help of the outnumbered man hpd no one appeared to
beg aid. With a hastily murmured word of assurance to Lynette,
he swooped down upon the villains and smote them hip and thigh.
Three of them were stretched senseless upon the ground, and the
other three ran screaming into the forest. Then Gareth loosed
the stone from off the captive baron's neck, freed him of his bonds,
and helped him :o his feet.

Oh, my friend," cried the baron, stretchmg out his liand to
Gareth, " It is well that you came i Those rogues had soon made
short work of me. Good cause is theirs; for it hath long been
my custom, if I caught a thief, to tie a stone around his neck and
drown him here. Many of them are rotting in these waters, and
at night, so the servants say, they slip loose from the stone and
dance upon chc mere! But, now that you have saved my life, aid
it is worth somewhat as a cleanser of this wood, let me reward
you."

" No," answered Gareth quickly. " For the deed's sake have
I done this deed in uttermost obedience to the King. But wilt
thou give this maiden shelter for the night?"

" Right welcome are ye both ! " responded the baron heartily.

GARETH OF ORKNEY

again extending his hand to Gareth. " I well believe thou art
of our good Arthur's table 1 "

A light laugh now broke from Lynette, who had joined them
as soon as the baron was freed. " Aye, of a truth he is, being
Arthur's kitchen-knave 1 " she cried. " But do not think, scullion,
that you are more welcome to me because ye have put to rout a lot
of craven foresters I A thresher could have scattered them with
his flail I Nay, you smell of the kitchen still! "

Gareth answered never a word, but signed for the baron to
lead on, and there came to him a half-regretful wish that the
baron had not crossed his path, for the maiden had been half will-
ing to trust him when no other protection was nigh !

The Lord Baron's home proved to be a castle rich and fair, and
he eagerly spread before his guests all its hospitalities. Soon he
invited them to partake of a feast that had that day been held in
the castle, and laced a roasted peacock before Lynette, seating
Gareth by her side.

The maiden rose at once i.i angry scorn. " Baron, this is too
much discourtesy, putting this knave by my side. Hear me: this
morning I went in all confidence to Arthur's Court and begged for
his best knight, Sir Lancelot, to rescue my sister, Lady Lyonors, who
is held prisoner by a man-savage in the Castle Perilous. Now,
this lout, this kitchen-knave rose up and bawled out for the quest,
and Arthur, suddenly gone mad, granted it. l"hink of it I A vil-
lain titter to stick swine than to ride abroad redressing women's
wrongs! "

" ISIethinks thou forgettest thyself, maiden!" answered the
baron sternly. "Even a kitchen helper can be an honest manl
And one can see at a glance that this man is not in his right a
kitchen-knave; a knight is he, and a most brave and noble one! "

So saying, the Lord Baron turned his back none too politely
upon the indignant maiden, and seating Gareth at another table
placed himself beside him. " Friend, it matters not to me if thou
be'st a kitchen-knave, or if the King or yonder damsel be mad.

62 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

1 hou strikcst a strong stroke, and thou art a gcodly knight and
the saver of my life! If thou harkenest to my adv'ice, thou wilt
take yonder foolish Miss back to Camelot, and let Lancelot or
some other fight her battles! "

But as Gareth would not turn back for the maiden's sneering
words, neither would he pause for the friendly ijaron's advice, and
so in early morning they set out, the maiden still as scornful and
unyielding as before. At last they came by a rough-thicketed road
to where a small bridge spanned a deep, narrow, frothing stream.
On the farther side arose a silk pavilion, gay with the golden
streaks and rays of the Lent-lily, save where the dome rose high
and purple. From the top Hoated a slender crimson banner, and
beneath, a lawless warrior paced unarmed.

" Damsel," he died, " is this the warrior bold that thou hast
brought from .Arthur's Court to struggle for the pass?"

" Nay, Sir Morning Star," answered the maiden, being divided
in her scorn between Gareth and the warrior before her. " The
King in utter scorn of thee and all thy folly hath sent his kitchen-
knave. Beware lest he fall on thee suddenly and slay thej ua
armed, for he is not a knight, but a knave."

Gareth flushed crimson, but made no move while the warrior
called for the Daughters of the Dawn to approach and arm him,
waiting patiently until three beautiful, silken-clad, bare-footed,
rosy-cheeked maidens, all glistening with dew-drops, appeared and
clad the warrior in a bli;e armor and gave him a blue shield,
with the morning-star engraved thereon.

Lynette was not unmindful of her knight's gentle behavior, or of
the admiration of the scene before him which lurked in his eyes,
but she turned to him tauntingly, nevertheless, and asked: " Why
stare you so.'' Vou shake in fear! There is yet time; flee down
the valley before he gets to horse. Who will cry shame? You
are not knight but kna\e! "

And Gareth replied quickly: "Damsel, whether knave or
knight, far liefer had I fight a score of times than hear thee so

GARETH OF ORKNEY

revile rve But truly thy wrrds send a strength of anger through
me. I know that I shall overthrow him I "

But .low the Morning Star cried to Gareth: " A kitchen-knave
sent in scorn of me, such I fight not, but answer scorn for scorn.
It were a shame to do him further wrong than to set him on his
feet and take his horse and arms and return him to the King!
Come, leave thy lady, knave. It beseemeth not a knave to ride
with a I-^dy! "

" Dr> I ^u liest!" cried Gareth angrily. "I spring from
loftier lineage than thine own."

P'orthwith the two sprang angrily at each other, and Gareth
lashed so fiercely with his brand that he soon had his foe groveling
on the ground.

" Tak*^ not my life! I yield," cried the warrior.

" So this da.Tisel ask it of me," answered Gareth, " I accord It
easily as a grace."

"Insolent scullion!" cried the maiden, reddening. "I ask of
thee! I bound to thee for any favor asked! Then shall he die."
But as Gareth began to unlace the warrior's helmet, she shrieked:
" Be not so hardy, scullion, as to slay one nobler th .n thyself! "

" Damsel," returned Gareth graciously, " thy charge is an
abounding pleasure to me. Knight, thy life is at her command.
.•\rise and get thee quickly to Arthur's hall, and say his kitchen-
knave hath sent thee. See thou cravest his pardon for breaking
the laws! Thy shield is mine! Farewell! Damsel, do thou
lead, and 1 will follow."

And fast away flew Lynette, but when he had overtaken her, she
turned and spoke: " Methought, knave, when I watched thee
striking on the bridge, the savor of thy kitchen came upon me a
little faintlier; but the wind hath changed, I scent it twenty-fold."
And then she sang a mocking little song about the beauty of the
Morning Sur, pausing finally to say: "But thou had best take
counsel j.id be gone. Fot- near here is the second brother in their
fool's parable, and he will pay thee mI thy wages and to boot.

4 4

64 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

Care not for shame, run I Thou art not knight but knave I "

" Parables? " queried Gareth, laughingly. ' Hear a parable of
the knave. When I was kitchen-knave among the rest, fierce was
the hearth, and one of my mates owned a rough dog, to whom
he cast his coat, saying, ' Guard it,' and there was none dared meddle
with it. And such a coat art thou, and such a dog am L and the
King hath given thee to me to guard. And if knave does thee
service as full knight, then he is as good as any knight towards
thy sister's freeing."

" Aye, Sir Knave," replied Lynette haughtily. " But because
thou strikest as a knight, being but a knave, I hate thee all the
more."

" Yes, fair damsel, but in that you are grievously wrong. You
should worship me the more, that, being but knave, I can over-
throw thine enemies."

" Aye, aye," she cried tauntingly, " but thou shalt meet thy

match!"

When they came nigh to the second river-loop, they beheld the
second warrior, Noonday Sun, astride a huge, bay horse. His
shield and armor were burnished so brightly that they cast sparks
in the sun, and Gareth was well-nigh blinded by their blaring
splendor.

"Avaunt! What dost thou, brother, in my marches here?"
roared the warrior.

And Lynette answered shrilly : " Here is a kitchen-knave from
Arthur's Hall! He hath overthrown thy brother. Morning Star,
and hath his arms."

Noonday Sun cried out angrily and plunged into the foaming
ford, but Gareth met him half way. No room was there in the
whirling waters for lance or tourney skill, and Gareth feared he
would be overcome, for his horse was frightened and hard to
control. But, as the warrior raised his ponderous arm for the
fifth mighty stroke, his horse slipped and went down in the stream.
The Noonday Sun was now at the mercy of the waters. Gareth,

GARETH OF ORKNEY

however, v is too not le to let his enemy drown, and after a hard
strugg'" succeeded in drawing him it on the tocks. Shocked
and breathless, the warrior could fight no more, and so, perforce,
yieuird. Garetn charged him to deliver himself to King Arthur,
promising tn plea J for him on his return, and then bade the maiden
1( d on

Quietly she obeyed.

"Ah, damst. " laughed Gareth, unwise in his joy, "hath not
the good wind changed again? "

"Nay," answered the maiden scornfully, "not ? point! Nor
art rhoL .ictor here. There is a ledge of slate across the ford,
and the Noonday Sun's horse stumbled thereon. Yea, for I saw

It.

Then she began to s,ng:

" O sun, that wakest all to bliss or pain,
O moon, that layest all to sleep again,
Shine sweetly: twice n.y love hath smiled on me.

"But whnt knovvest thou of love song or of love?" she then
demanded oi Gareth. anci without pausing for his reply went on
singing:

4|
•'I,!

. if

" O dewy flowers that open to the sun,
O dewy flowers that close when day is done.
Blow sweedy: twice my love hath smiled on me.

" But how mayest thou know of flowers? " she queried. " Ex-
cept, perchance, to garnish mea; with. Hath not our good King
who lent me thee, the flower of kitchendom, a foolish love for
flowers? What put you round the pasty "" Wherewithal did you
deck the boar's head? With flowers? Nay, the boar had rose-
mary and bay."

Gareth answered only with a smile, and his blue eyes laughed
tenderly at her. Lynette sang on:

,»''^i

66 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THL KING

" O birds that warble tu »he morning sky,
O birds that warblf as the ,lry goes by,
Sing sweetly: twice my love hath smiled on me.

"But what canst thou know of birds?" she said. "Lark,
mavis, merle, or linnet? What dreamest thou when they utter
their sweet, sun-worshiping May music? Thinkest thou: ' these be
for the snare, these for the spit? ' But thou hast fried thy last on',
except thou turn to fly, for yonder is the third stout fool awaiting
thee!"

Gareth turned from silent admiration of his companion and
gazed in amazement in the direction which she pointed. It was
but too true. Over beyond a bridge of treble bow, against the
rose-red western si y, stood, seemingly all naked, the knight who
named himself Evening Star.

"Zounds!" cried Gareth, aghast. "Why does the madman
wait naked there in the opei dayshine?"

"Nay," replied the maiden, "he is not naked; only wrapped
In hardened skms that fit him like his own. If you cleave his armor,
the skins will turn tht blade of your sword! "

The Evening Star now shouted from the bridge : " O brother-
star, why shine you here so low? Your ward is higher up. Have
you slain the damsel's champion?"

" No star of thine," cried the maiden quickly, perceiving that
the knight had mistaken Gareth for his brother on account of
the Morning Sun's shield which he bore, " but shot from Arthur's
heaven with ail disaster unto thee and thine! Both thy younger
brethren have gone down before this youth, and so wilt thou, Sir
Star. Art thou not old?"

"Old, princess!" cried the knight, "both old and hard. Old
with the might and breath of twenty boys."

" Old and over-hold in brag! " said Gareth angrily. " But that
same strength whicli overthrew t*"-; T' ,onday Sun cp i throw the
Evening Star: "

The Evening Star now blew a fierce and deadly blast upon his

GARETH OF ORKNEY

horn, that made Lynette shudder and cover her ca's. " Approach
and arm me," he cried hoarsely. And straightway from out the
old russet, storm-heaten, many-stained pavilion came a grizzled
dame, and armed him in old arms. His helm had only a drymg
evergreen for a crest, and on his shield the Star of Even blazed but

dimly.

'1 he two knights rushed madly toward each other and met mid-
way upon the bridge. At the first blow Gareth unseated his foe,
and when he arose, met him with drawn sword and overthrew
him again. But up like fire he started, and as oft as Gareth brought
him groveling on his knees, so often he vaulted up again; till Gareth
panted hard, and his great heart, foredooming all his trouble vain,
labored within him.

Presently he half despaired, and Lynette. seeing this, cried out:
" Well done, brave knight ! " And again, " O good knight-knavc,
— O knave, as noble as any of all the knights, shame me notl
Shame me not! For I have prophesied! Strike! Thou art
worthy of the Table Round! His arms are old; he trusts his
hardened skin. Strike! Strike! The wind will never change

again I "

Her words put new courage into Gareth's heart and gave the
strength of Samson to his arm. He hewed off great pieces of
the hardened armor-skin, but could no more wholly subdue his en-
emy than could the loud waves, roUing ridge on ridge, submerge
the springing buoy that rides at sea. At length Gareth's sword
clashed with his foeman's and broke it at the hilt, and he thought
to claim the victory. But the warrior, all unknightlike, sprang upon
him and wrapped him In his wiry arms. Struggling, striving, pant-
ing, each sought to throw the other Into the stream, until at last,
straining every nerve, Gareth prevailed; then, turning, said to the
maiden in a smothered voice: "Lead on. I follow."

" Nay," cried Lynette, holding out her hand. " 1 lead no longer.
Ride thou at my side. Thou a- the kingllest of all the kitchen-
knaves! "

68 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

Off came Gareth's jeweled helm, as would a courtier's hat of
plumes, and low he bowed until his lips touched the tips of her
dainty finircrs. Then, swiftly mounting his horse, he wheeled him
into the path, while the maiden sang joyously : —

' O trefoil, sparklinK on the rainy plain,
O rainbow with three colors after rain.
Shine sweetly: thrice my love hath smiled on me.

" Sir," she then murmured, " and, good faith, I fain had added
Knight, but that I heard thee call thyself a knave! Shamed am
I that I so rebuked, reviled, and mis-said thee! Noble I am,
and thought the King did but scorn me and mine. Grant now thy
pardon, friend, for thou hast ever answered courteously, and wholly
bold art thou, and meek withal as any of Arthur's best, but, being
knave, hast ma/cd my wit. I marvel what thou art."

" Damsel," returned Gareth gently, " you are not all to blame,
saving that you mistrusted our good King. You said your say;
my answer was my deed. I hold he scarce is knight, yea, but half-
man, nor • leet to fight for gentle damsel, who lets his heait be
stirred with foolish heat at the damsel's waywardness. Shamed?
Care not! Your unkind sayings i jght for me: and seeing now
your words are fair, methinks there rides no knight, not even
Lancelot, that has the force to quell me."

So they rode in silence until nigh upon that hour when the lone
heron forgets his mtiancholy, and twilight falls. TTien the maiden
turned smilingly to her companion, and told him of a cavern near
at hand where the Lady of Lyonors had promised to secrete bread,
baked meats, and good red wine of the Southland. Pointing tht
way past a narrow comb wherein were slabs of rock with sculptured
figures of knights on horseback, she observed: "Sir Knave, my
kright, a hermit once was here, whose holy hand hath fashlo^ied
on tht rock the war of Time against the soul of man. Yon four
Day fools hath sucked their allegory from these damp walls, and
taken but the form. Know you not these?"

GARETH OF ORKNEY

And Gareth looked and read, in letters such as the Roman
standard bearers carved up.ni the cliffs of the streaming river (ielt,
" I'hrxphnru^, MeriJies, Hesperus, Nox, Mors." each beneath a
figure of an armed man, the faces all turned forward.

" lollovv the faces, and we shall find the cave," said Lynette.
" But look, who comes behind?"

Gareth turned, and in so doing let the Morning Sun's shield be

seen.

" Stay, felon knight," cried the pursuer, " I avenge thee for my
friend."

With that he charged at Gareth, and before the young man had
time to defend himself he lay sprawled upon the f^rass. It was
all done so suddenly and withal so neatly that a laugh of admira-
tion broke from the unfortunate victim.

The sound of mirth, so inopportune, jarred upon Lynette.
" Shamed and overthrown and tumbled back into a kitchen-knave,
why laugh you?" she demanded harshly. " Have you but blown
your boast in vain? "

" Nay, noble maiden," answered Gareth penitently, " but that
I, son of old King Lot and good Queen Bellicent of Orkney, victor
of the bridges and the ford and knight of .Arthur, should thus be
thrown so easily I Surely it is some d»vice of sorcery or un-
happinessi Out sword; we are thrown I"

"Pri.-.ce!" cried the strange knight joyfully, putting out his
hand to stay the other. " Gareth 1 It was all through the mere
awkwardness of one who came to help you, not to harm! I am
Lancelot. Sent to give you aid by our good King, if it so chanced
that you had need of a strong arm, and as glad to find you whole
as you were to join our Order true! "

"Lancelot!" cried Gareth, in amazement. "Thou I 01
Lancelot, thine the hand that threw me I Praise the saints! For
'tli> no shame to be thrown by thee, the great Prince of Knights! "

And Lancelot laughed and cordially shook his out-stretched hand,
but Lynette cried petulantly : " Lancelot, why came you not when

70 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OK THE KL\G

called ? And wherefore do you come now when you are not called?
I gloried in my knave, who bcin^ still rebuked, would answer as
courteous still as any knight. But now, if he's a knl«lit, the marvel
dies, and leaves me fooled and tricked and only wondering why I
am played upon, and whether I and mine be scorned. lor where
should truth be found but in Arthur's hall and in Arthur's pres-
ence? Knight, knave, prince and fool, I hate thee and forever!"
C7arcth stood dumb under the maiden's last words, and so Lance-
lot spoke : " Blessed be thou, Sir Gareth I Knight art thou to the
Kmg's best wish. maiden, are you wise to call him shamed, who
is but overthrown? Well has he striven, and he and his good
horse are tired; yet I felt his manhood through all his weary lance's
charge. The stream has he freed, justice wreaked on his foes,
and when reviled, was answered graciously. Then, too, he makes
merry when overthrown. Hail, Knight and Prince, and of our
Table Round, I salute thee! "

Then he went on to explain to Gareth how the King had bade
him cover his shield and follow, how he had been delayed by
being obliged to see the wounded, bellowing Sir Kay home, and
how he had lost them, through their losing the trail.

The maiden listened to all this moodily, anJ when Lancelot, half
vexed, turned to her and told all the story of Gareth, she answered
yet more petulantly than before : " Worse Is being fooled of others
than to fool one's self!" Then she brushed her brow wearily,
and in so doing must have cleared her face of frowns, for she turned
smilingly to Lancelot and said in a different voice: " There is a
cave somewhere near with meats and drinks, forage for the horses,
and flint for fire, but all about it flies the honeysuckle Help us
to find it!" ^

When they had sought the cave and found the comforts hidden
there. Sir Gareth sank into a heavy sleep, but yet he turned and
tossed and seemed uncomfortable. So the maiden took his head
into her lap, softly and carefully, so as not to waken him, and
she brooded tenderly over him. As she sat thus, she mused

GARLTII Ol ORKXKY

7»

silently: " Sound sleep be thine! Sound cause to sleep hast thou.
Wake lusty! Seeni I not as tender to him as any moihcr? Aye,
but such a one as has all day long rated iicr child and vexed hist
day, hut blesses hirn asleep. . . . I low sweetly smells the
honeysuckle in the hushed nipht, as if the world were one of utter
pcacv and love, and gentleness! . . . U Lancelot, Lancelot!
full merry am I to find that my goodly knave is :i noble knight!
Hut see I have sworn to the castle . uard to bring you to fight
with him! Now, if you go up with us, then will the rebel knight
attack you, and my knight-knave will miss the full tlower of his
accomplishment."

Lancelot came over to her, smiling kindly, and he noted the
white hand unconsciously smoothing Gareth's hair. " We must
leave it to him, for the quest is his," said he. " And, peradventurc,
he you name may know my shield. I'll tell you, damsel! Let
Ciareth, if he will, change his shield for mine, and take my horse,
for he is fresh and needs not to be spurred, loving the battle as
well as he who rides him."

"Spoken like Lancelot! " agreed the maiden cordially.

So they talked and planned until at last Gareth showed signs
of waking, and Lynette put him quietly away and slipped blushingly
out, leaving to Lancelot the task of persuading Gareth. What-
ever he said we know not, but we are afraid the good knight told
tales out of school; for when the maiden returned there was a
new light In Gareth's eyes, and a joy in his heart that showed in
his voice.

He was impatient to gain victory. " Come, let us go," he cried.

Silently the three traversed the silent field. A smile lay on
Gareth's lips and his dreams were passing fair. But only two
remarks did he make which would show the tenor of his thoughts
to his companions: — Once, a star shot downward, and he cried:
" Lo! the foe falls! " Again, an owl whoope i in the forest, and
he exclaimed, " Hark, the victor pealing there! "

Suddenly she who rode at his left grasped the shield which Lance-

■■'i

ism

MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART

ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No 2

1.0

I.I

1.25

II! M

,,, 3 2
116
■ 40

1.4

ill—

2.0
1.8

^ /AP PLIED IM^GE In--

JTTr 716) 482 - 0300 - Phone

ITrr ;i6) 288 - ^989 - ra«

72 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

lot had lent him, pleading eagerly; " Yield, yield him this again.
'Tis he must fight! I ci" ^e thj tongue that all through yesterday
reviled thee, and hath wrought on Lancelot now to lend thee horse
and shield! Wonders thou hast done; miracles thou canst not.
Here is glory enough in having flung the three. I see thee maiined
and mangled! Do not fight, I pray thee! I swear rhou canst not
fling the fourth! "

" But wherefore, damsel? " queried Gareth laughingly, albeit his
blue eyes dwelt tenderly upon her. " Tell me all you know. You
cannot frighten me. No rough face or voice, brute bulk of limb,
or boundless savagery will turn me from the quest."

" Nay, Prince," she answered. " I never looked upon his face,
seeing he never rides abroad by day; but I have watched him pass
like a phantom, chilling the night. Neither have I heard his voice.
Always he made a mouthpiece of his page who came and went, and
still reported him as closing in himself the strength of ten, and
when very angry massacring man, woman, lad, and girl — yea, the
soft babe! Some hold that he hath swallowed infant flesh I
Monster! O Prince, I went for Lancelot first! The quest is
Lancelot's; give him back the shield."

" Yea, my lady Lynette," laughed Gareth. " If he will joust
for it and win it as the better man! "

Then Lancelot, seeing Gareth's heart was set upon finishing the
quest, contented himself by offering all manner of advice on the
devisings of chivalry; how best to manage horse, lance, sword and
shield, and so fill up with skill the gap where force might fail.

But his words went in one ear and out the other; Gareth could
not fix his attention upon the friendly counsel, and at last cried
out in protest : " Alas, Sir Lancelot, here be rules, but I can master
only one — to dash against mine enemy and to win. Full many a
time have I watched thee victor in the joust and seen thy way,
but I am not skilled like thee."

" Then Heaven help thee," sighed Lynette, greatly troubled.

A dark cloud now rose up and shrouded all the stars in gloom.

CARET H OF ORKNEY

/ s

Gaily the three essayed to talk, striving thus to cheer each other,
but ever the black pall seemed to sink lower and wrap them in
silence. At last the maiden pressed her white palfrey close to
Gareth's horse, clasped his arm, and pointing unsteadily ahead,
whispered, " There! "

They had reached the goal at last. Only a short distance away
stood the Castle Perilous, and right beside it was a huge, black
pavilion with a trailing, black banner. Before Lancelot and
Lynette had time to think, Gareth seized the long, black horn which
hung conveniently near on the wall, and blew a hideous bbst that
went shivering through the night and echoing in all the castle walls.
Lights soon twinkled here and there thro-ighout the castle, and when
Gareth, impatient, blew another blast, muffled voices could be heard
and hollow tramplings up and down. Then far above them a win-
dow burst into glowing bloom and from out the radiance leaned a
beautiful woman.

"Lyonors!" exclaimed Lynette eagerly. "Have courage!
Here is a knight come to deliver thee! "

It is doubtful if the woman above heard the cheering message,
but she undoubtedly guessed its import. Radiant smiles lighted up
her face and she extended her hands in eager welcome.

" God grant you save her," cried Lynette to Gareth.

His answer was another lusty blast which raised the echoes far
and near. Then the great black doors of the huge pavilion slowly
folded back, and there came riding out a hideous thing with the
white breast-bone, barren ribs, and grinning skull of Death. A
monster thing it was, mounted on a coal black horse, with night
black arms, and slowly it came out into the dim dawn, then paused
and spoke no word.

" Fool," cried Gareth angrily, " men say thou hast the strength
of ten. Canst thou not trust the limbs thy God hath given thee,
but must trick thyself out in ghastly imageries of that which Life
hath done with, and the d"ll clod hides with mantling flowers for
pity?"

74 THE STORY OF IDYLLS Ol- THE KING

But the thing spoke no word in reply, and all about there seemed
to be gathering a swift, boundless current of horror. The Lady
Lyonors wrung her hands and wept despairingly; a handmaiden be-
hind her swooned; Sir Gareth's skin prickled with fear; and even the
bold Sir Lancelot felt all through his warm blood a chill like that
of ice.

All at once the fearless steed which Gareth rode neighed fiercely,
and Death's dark war-horse bounded forward. Then those that
did not blink with terror, saw to their amazement that Death
was cast to the ground, but slowly rose again. With two power-
ful blows Gareth split open the impostor's armor and then — most
wonderful tn relate — out sprang a beautiful, blooming boy, fresh
as a new-born flower.

"O knight, slay me not!" he pleaded. "My three brothers
bade me do it to make a horror all about, and stay the world from
Lady Lyonors. They never dreamed the passes could be crossed."

Most graciously Gareth answered, for his heart was thrilled
with wild joy: " My fair child, what madness made thee challenge
the chief knight of Arthur's hall? "

" Fair Sir, they made me do it. They hate the King and Lance-
lot, the King's friend. They hoped to slay him somewhere on the
stream. They never thought harm would come near me. They
did not dream the stream could be opened."

Lady Lyonors now appeared at the open house door, with hearty
thanks, and a cordial welcome for her deliverer and the dear sister
who had periled her life to bring him. Everything in the castle
was placed at their disposal, and all the household waxed merry
with dance, revel, and song over their deliverance from the grim
enemy, Death.

And in the heart of Gareth joy was crowned, for he had won
the quest and proven to his beloved King how well he could strike
for Christ and the right. Those who told the story in the old times
say that Gareth wedded Lady Lyonors, but those who told it later
say it was Lynette. And to our minds the latter tale seems truer.

CHAPTER VII

THE STORV OF GKRAINT AND ENID

ON a certain Whitsuntide King Arthur held a great Feast of
the Pentecost at Caerleon upon Usk. In the midst ot the
rejoicings a forester of Dean, wet from the woods, came
with the tidings that he had seen a beautiful milky-white hart in
the forest near the banks of the Severn. Now King Arthur dearly
loved the chase, so he immediately ordered the horns to be blown
announcing a big hunt on the morrow.

The Queen was also much interested in the chase, so she eagerly
petitioned and obtained leave to see the hunt. Unfortunately she
slept late the next morning, and when she awoke all the eager
hunters had gone. But the Queen was not to be disappointed, and
set out as soon as she could make ready, with only a single maiden
for a companion, intending, since she was so late, to view the scene
from a certain high knoll in the woodland. As they waited, all
ears listening for the hounds, there was heard a sound of gallop-
ing hoofs, and presently Prince Geraint, a knight of Arthur from
the neighborhood of Devon, appeared.

" Ah, Prince," cried Queen Guinevere graciously, " thou art
late, late! Later than we, if indeed," glancing doubtfully at his
silken holiday attire, " thou hast intended to take part in the hunt
at all?"

" Yes, noble Queen," replied the Prince, with low-bowed
courtesy, " so late am I that I have left arms and hunting garb
at home, and come like you only to see the hunt and not to share it."

" Then wait with me," invited the Queen pleasantly, " for on
this knoll, if anywhere, we shall see the hounds. Often they break
covert here at our feet."

While they stood breathlessly listening for the on-coming bay-

76 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

ing of Cavall, the King's noblest hounil, there rode past them an
armed knight, with a lady and a dwarf. And the Queen, desiring
to know the stranger knight's name, sent her maiden to inquire of
the dwarf what it might be. But the dwarf answered sharply that
he would not tell, neither would he allow her to ask his master,
saying that she w as not worthy even to speak of him, and he lashed
at her with his whip. So the maiden returned indignantly to the
Queen, and Geraint loyally made after the dwarf and questioned
him, but with no better success — indeed, the impudent fellow
struck the knight across the face with his whip so severely that thd
blood started. Quickly the Prince gripped his gold-mounted sword,
minded to destroy him, but not liking to pass arms with such a worm,
he restrained himself and turned loyally to his Queen, saying: —

" Most noble Queen, mightily will I avenge this insult which
has been put upon you through your maiden 1 I shall follow yon
churlish dwarf and compel his master to come to you humbly and
crave pardon. Though I ride only with my faithful sword, no
doubt I can find armor along the way somewhere, for loan or for
pledge, and, in three days, if I be not slain, 1 will come again.
Farewell 1 "

"Farewell I" returned the Queen "Be prosperous in this
journey, fair Prince, as in all; and may you light on all things that
you love, and live to wed with her whom first you love. But ere
you wed with any, bring your bride — yea, though she be the daugh-
ter of a king or a beggar from the hedge — ?nd I will clothe her for
her bridals like tlie sun."

Half vexed at losing sight of the hunt, but more out of humor
at the cause, Prince Geraint followed the three over field and dale,
till they came at last to a little town hidden in the valley, on one
side whereof was a newly-built fortress, and on the other an ancient
castle, half in ruin. The three rode up to the fortress, entered
therein, and were lost behind its walls; but Geraint felt that he had
tracked them to their lair, and so rode on wearily into town, seek-
ing shelter for the night. But it seemed too busy a place for

THE STORY OF GERAINT AND ENID 77

strangers, and every one he spoke to was so full of bustle that he
scarce took time to look at him and muttered something about " 1 he
Sparrow-hawk."

Grown thoroughly incensed at last, the Prince paused before
an armorer's shop, where a man sat bowed above his work, riveting
a helmet on his knee. Without turning around, he answered the
Prince's question thus: " Friend, he that labors for the Sparrow-
hawk has little time for idle questioners."

This was the last straw, and all the Prince's anger was inflamed:
" A thousand pips eat up your Sparrow-hawk! " he cried. " Tits,
wrens, and all winged nothings pack him dead! Ye think the rustic
cackle of your burg the murmur of the world! What is it to me?
O wretched set 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 shelter for the night? And arms, arms, arms
to fight my enemy? Speak! "

On the instant the armorer had turned amazed, and seeing one
clad so gaily in purple silks, started up, helmet in hand, bowing low,
and waiting for a chance to speak, which he did eagerly, as soon
as the Prince paused. "Pardon nic, O stranger knight!" said
he. " We hold a tourney here to-morrow morning, and there is
scarcely time for all the work in hand. Arms? Truth, I know
not; all are wanted here. Shelter? The town is full, but per-
haps Earl Yniol, at the castle yonder beyond the bridge, would take
you in."

So Geraint turned shortly, a little spleenful still, and rode on-
ward to the castle where a courteous, hoary-headed Earl, in a suit
of frayed magnificence, listened kindly to his queries, and replied
cordially: " Enter then, and partake of the slender entertainment
of a house once rich, now poor, but ever open-doored."

" Thanks, venerable friend," said Geraint laughingly. " So you
do not serve me sparrow-hawk for supper, I will enter and eat
with all the passion of a twelve hour fast."

The old Earl sighed, then smiled, and answered, " Graver cause

78 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THL KL\G

than yours is mine to curse this hciigerovv thief, this Sparrow-hawk!
But enter in; for, save you yourself desire it, wc will not touch
upon him even in jest."

So Geraint rode into the courtyard, and looking about him saw
that all was in ruirs. The prickly thistle sprouted in the broken
stones; here was a shattered archway plumed with fern; there was
fallen a great part of a tower, and like a crag tumbled from a cliff
was gay with wild flowers, while high above a piece of turret stair,
worn by feet now silent, lay bare in the sun; and all about rose
craggy gray walls half covered wtih luxuriant, ambitious ivy that
sought in vain to spread an air of life and prosperity over all. And,
as Geraint stood waiting, he heard the voice of a maiden singing
in her bower; and so sweet was the voice that his heart was moved
within him, and he said to himself: " Here, by the Grace of God,
is the one voice for me ! "

The song was that of Fortune snd her wheel, and the maiden
sang it with spirit, as though bidding defiance to the ups and downs
of destiny: —

"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;
Froun 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."

The song ceased, and the singer, a beautiful maiden, fair as
a vermeil-white blossom, and clad in faded silk, came down. The

THE STORY OF GERAIM AND EMD

Farl presented her as his daughter, the Lady I-'.nid, and again
(icraint thought: " Here is the one maiden in the world for mc."
" Enid," spoke the old I'larl, " the good knight's horse stands
in the court; take hin, 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."

The maiden came forwanl willingly, but Geraint could not bear
to have one so daintily beautiful wait upcjn him as a servant might,
anti eagerly expressed his willingness to care for his own horse.
Yniol, howe-.-er, caught his purple scarf and held him back, say-
ing: "Forbear! Rest! The good house, though ruined, my
son, endures not that her guest should serve himself."

And so Geraint was obliged by courtesy to yield to the Earl,
but his eyes followed the maiden and he marked her proud, quick-
stepped entrance into the town and her coming forth, and always he
admired her yet the more. Now the hall where they sat was per-
force kitchen and dining-room as well, so he wonderingly watched
the maiden as she moved quickly about preparing and serving the
meal with wondrous grace and sweet simplicity. As she stood be-
hind the board and waited upon her father, mother, and himself,
he felt within him a great longing to kiss the dainty hands that
served him. And afterward as she busied herself now here, now
there, about the hall at her lowly handmaid work, his eyes fol-
lowed her, and he would fain have offered help, yet dared not.

At last he forced himself to turn aside and address the Earl.
" Fair host and Earl, I pray your courtesy. This Sparrow-hawk,
what is he? Tell me of him. But stay, tell me not his name!
For if he be that knight whom I saw ride into the new fortress
beyond your town this evening, I have sworn to force it from him!
I am Geraint of Devon, a knight of Arthur, and this morning I
heard the strange knight's dwarf offer insult to the Queen,
through her maid in waiting, by refusing to tell the name of his lord
;'t the Queen's request. You see I had ridden out but to see the
I'.unt and could not fight him then, as I had left my armor at home.

8o THE STORY OF IDYLLS OP^ THE KING

Therefrre, I followed him, hoping to find arms wherewith to break
his pride and humble him befurc the Queen."

" Ah I " cried the old I'arl, with kindling; eyes, "art thou in-
deed Geraint, he whose name is tar-soutukd among rnen for his
noble deeds? Well might I have known when tirbt 1 beheld your
stately presence that you were one who was wont to sit at meat
in Arthur's hall at Camelot! My house is honored, and happy am
i to have you beneath my crumbling roof tu-night 1 lull often have
we heard praises of your feats of arms, and this dear child will
bear me witness that many a time have we discussed your noble
deeds." 'Jhe Marl paused to draw the fair Knid, who had just
come to his side, aflectionately down upon the wide arm of his
chair, and then continued, while deraint envied him his privileges:
" As to this Sparrow-hawk whereof you speak, he is my nephew
and sometime suitor for this fair hand," lifting Enid's hand
caressingly to his lips. " But I knew his fierce, turbulent spirit,
and refused him, and since — my curses be upon him! — he has
contrived by foul means to lay low the house of Ynlol. With false
tales he raised my own town against me in the night, sacked my
house, ousted me from my earldom, and built that fortress beyond
the bridge to overawe my friends, for truly there are those who
love me yet. He keeps me isolated in this ruined castle, and why
he does not kill me 1 know not, unless it be that he despises me
too much; and I — I sometimes despise myself, for I have sub-
mitted all too gently and failed to use my power, but in my old age
I am some way very wise or very foolish, for I can not bear to fight,
and so I submit patiently to my wrongs."

" Let me fight for you, friend! " cried Geraint, filled with sudden
pity for the trembling old man. " My limbs are young and strong,
and I am sworn to right wrong wherever found ! Tell me where
I may get arms, and at to-morrow's tourney 1 will lay the Sparrow-
hawk low in the dust. Right humbly shall he apologize to our
most gracious Queen, and every farthing of thine inheritance shall
he restore to thee, else will i have his heart's blood! "

TIIL STORY OF OERAINT AND ENID

"Spoken like a true knight of Arthur !" exclaimed the Farl.
"Aye, son, and I couKl furnish you with arms. Old and rusted,
'tis true, but still tit to serve you in ^jood stead; but if I did so, you
could not fight the Sparrow-hawk at the tourney; for his rules are
that no man shall tilt except the lady he loves best be there. 1 he
thing is managed in this wise: two forks are fixed into the meadow
ground, and over these is placed a silver wand, tipf 1 with a golden
sparrow-hawk. This is the prize of beauty, and 'tis given to the
winning knight for the pleasure of his lady love. The Sparrow-
hawk hath always won it for the lady with hitn. and so hath justly
earned his name. Perforce thou seest why thou canst not tilt v ith
hini at the tourneys, but possibly thou wilt take the day follow-
ing?"

" No," cried Geraint quickly, leaning eagerly toward the old
man. "Thy favoring kindness, Earl Yniol! Let me lay lance
for thy dear child, thine own fair Enid! Truly I have seen all
the beauties of our time, but never yet hath mine eyes dwelt on one
so sweetly fair and pure as she! If she be not unwilling, give her
to me for my beloved wife, as a reward for overcoming the Sparrow-
hawk — I care not for the golden bauble — and I swear to you
to love and reverence her forevermorel "

" Ahl " replied the old man, looking at him with kindly, favor-
ing eyes, " 'tis an alliance most to be desired, but I know not what
the maid will say! " (Enid had left the room when first they be-
gan to discuss the tourney). " I must prove her heart, for never
would I rise by the sacrifice of my child. Mother," turning to
the old dame who now came into the room, " this knight. Prince
Geraint of Devon, wishes to tilt with the Sparrow-hawk and force
him to give us restitution, desiring the hand of Enid as a reward.
/\ maiden is a tender thing, best understood by her who bore her.
Go thou and inquire of Enid concerning this."

And so the old dame hurried to Enid's room, where she found
her half disrobed for the night. Kisiing her upon both cheeks, she
laid her hands upon her fair, shining shoulders and held her away

82 thl: sioRV OF iDvi.i.s oi nil. ki.\g

that she riii^^ht look into her l.uc, while she told her of Prince
(icraint's ilcsirc. Kcil ami white was I'.nivl's fair tuec, and tilled
with arna/einent, as she listcnetl to the tidings, so sudden, so un-
expected that they took, her breath away, and she touKl speak no
word, nor couKI she rest that ni^lit. In the morning she roused her
moiher ami together tlicy went down into the tourney lield, where
they waited for her father ami (ieraint. And the younj^ kni^,'ht,
a<- lie came to her side, felt that beatin^^ in his heart, 'neath her
father's old rusty arin(>r, which proclaimed tiat, were l.nid the
prize of bodily force, he could win against any odds.

Soon the knights and the ladies came, and the town ami country
people, and they filled all the space about the lists. Then the
Sparrow-hawk blew loud upon his trumpet, and bowing low be-
fore the lady at his side, said gallantly: " Advance, and take the
golden prize as fairest of the fair; for I these two years past have
won it for thee, most worthy lady of the prize ot beauty."

" Stay! " called Prince Geraint in a loud voice. " There is one
more worthy here ! "

"How now!" cried the Sparrow-hawk in surprise and wrath,
and turning beheld the old I'.arl, his uncle, and his wife and I'.nid,
with the handsome, challenging knight beside her. " Do battle
for it then! " he stammered, choked with passion at the sight, and
rushed toward Geraint.

" The Lord bless thee and keep thee, my knight," murmured
Enid so kindly and sweetly as Geraint bent over her hand in brief
farewell, that, unmindful of the \ ast throng, he stooped and kissed
her tenderly upon the forehead ere he rushed headlong to meet
the on-coming Sparrow-hawk.

l^en the strife began, and never was so great a fight seen there-
abouts before. Thrice they chargetl, and each time broke their
lances. Quickly they dismounted and made at one another with
their swords. So furious were thei"- strokes that at each one the
bystanders thought to sec the battle ended. Twice they rested,
and then came on again, and many a wound did either give and re-

THF STORY OF G^^.AlN'l AND ENID 83

ccive, but nt-ithcr \\.u\ the ni.istcry, till at last 1 .irl Vtuol cried
lustily: *' Ktiiifmbir tin- ^rcat invilt done to the Queen." nu-n
(Kralnt ^athcnd all his force into one lust blow, and so mighty
was the stroke that it sriimo throuj^h the helmet and bit the bone
.iiul iVlleil the Sparrow-hawk to the ground.

" TJI me thy name I " commanded the I'rince stcrnlv, setting his
loot upon the tallen man's breast.

" Idyrn, son of Nudd!" moaned the Sparrow-hawk. "Woe
is me ! Ashameil am I to tell it to thee. My pride is broken : men
have seen my fall."

" Iher., I'.dyrn. son of Nudd." replied Geraint. "these two
thingc shalt thou do, or else thou diest: first, with thy lady and thy
dwarf In company, thou shalt ritle to Arthur';, court and crave lowly
purdon of the Queen for the insult offered in the grove by the
Severn; r':\t thou shalt restore to the utteiinost farthing all that
thou hast taken of the Farl, thine uncle. These two things shalt
ihou do, or thou shalt die."

" Stay thy hand. Prince." answered Edyrn sadly. " These things
will I do willingly. P'or now that thou hast broken my pride, and
the fair I'lnid has seen my fall and rejoices, I repent. It is meet
that I do works worthy of repentance."

The young knight rose humbly and journeyed to Queen
(iuinevere where he begged pardon on his bended knees for his
traitorous life. So kindly did the beautiful Queen receive him,
and so earnestly did she beseech him to turn to the right, that he
swore to fight for the King and the Christ throughout all his life,
and ever after kept the vow unsullied.

But Geraint returned with Yniol to the castle, and that night
pleaded with Enid that she go with him to wed at the Court of
Arthur on the morrow that being the day he had promised the
Queen he would return. Enid blushingly consented, though she
would fain have postponed the date that she might replenish her
faded wardrobe and so do honor to her lord, yet she dared not
mention it for fear of grieving him.

84 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KiNG

" He seems so bent on going," she mused, as she sought the
privacy of her chamber, " that it were little grace for me to ask
a second favor of him, so much are we now beholden! But sweet
Heaven! How much I shall discredit h"m, so noble are his acts
and so splendid his attire! Did he but iee fit to tarry yet a day
or two, I would work eye dim and finger lame to prepare fitting
raiment. O, woe is me! to appear before the great Queen in
faded apparel, unfit even for a kitchen-maid! "

And so thinking, the maiden fell longing for a certain beau-
tiful dress, all branched and flowered with gold, that her mother
had given her on h.r birthday eve, the night Sir Edyrn sacked their
houie and scattered all to the four winds. " Oh," she mourned,
" did I but know where it had been hid, then I might appear before
the Queen In fitting raiment! "

WTiIle she sat fearing more and more the thought of going
so ill-clad before tl.t Queen and all the splendor of the Court, her
mother came to her bringing a package which she said had just
been brought by a villager and contained a sweet surprise. And
lo! when Enlcl had unbound it, there rolled out the very gown for
which she had been wishing.

" Aye," cried the mother, glad In her daughter's tearful joy,
" don It in the morning, child. Now the beautiful Queen can not
say ' the Prince hath plucked a ragged robin from the hedge ! ' For
though I heard him call you fairest of the fair, think not, girl,
that you will not he the fairer to him in new dress than In old."

But In the morning when Gcraint rose early and made himself
ready for the journey, calling eagerly for his bride-to-be, and Ynlcl
told him she would be down ere long, that her mother was proudly
decking her In apparel fit even for the Court of Arthur, Geraint
became perplexed and troubled, and at last begged the Earl eagerly,
saying: " Sir, entreat her by my love, albeit I give no reason but
my wish, that she ride with me In her faded silk."

Imagine the consternation this message created In the chamber
where the old dame stood admiring her beautiful daughter and

THE STORY OF GERAINT AND ENID 85

likenii.g her unto a fair bride who was created out of flowers! But
Enid, all abashed, although she knew not why, tremblingly obeyed
the request and laid aside the rich robe, not daring to look at her
silent mother, and so came down in silence in her faded, clir ,'.ig
silk.

And Geraint, when he marked her sweet submission, loved her
yet the more, but, seeing her mother's brow still clouded with dis-
appointment, made haste to her, saying: "Good mother, take it
not ill that I have asked this thing. Two reasons there are —
one, that our Queen Guinevere, when I left three days since, prom-
ised me that if I would bring my bride to her, whensoever I found
her, she would clothe her like the sun. And I am minded to ac-
cept this sweet service, for the two bound together so graciously
may learn to love each other — and where could Enid find a nobler
friend ? Next, I desired to make proof of her love, for if she could
at a word from me put aside a thing so dear to all women, then
might I be sure that her heart was whollv mine. A propl.et certain
of my prophecy, now am I assured that never shadow of distrust
shall come between us! Some day will I make amends for my hard
petition."

Then the two journeyed away to Caerleon. and from the top-
most tower, where she sat on the watch. Queen Guinevere saw them
coming up the vale of Usk and hastened down and out to greet
them. Right royally did she welcome them and shortly had Enid
arrayed in magnificent bridal splendor. Then the two were wedded
by the priestly Dubric, and all that week high festival was held at
Court. And for many moons Geraint and Enid dwelt at Caerleon-
on-Usk, and the Queen and Enid became great friends, and Geraint
rejoiced greatly at their friendship, for it pleased his pride to see
his wife the favorite of the noblest lady in the land.

Now Geraint loved his wife better than life itself, and It was
his pleasure to array her in splendid T;owns and dazzling jewels and
to delight in her exceeding great beauty. And Enid, though not
caring greatly for such things, was yet glad to make herself pleas-

86 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF Tin: KING

ing in her husband's eyes, for he was ail the world to her. Daily-
she appeared hefor- Geraint in some new splendor, and often the
lily-white hands of Quccii vjumcvcic helped in the adorning, nor
ever did she give an envious thought to the fact that her favorite
lady-in-waiting's beauty might outshine her own. But the Queen
and Lady Enid could never be rivals, for they were the exact oppo-
site in their beauty: fair as an Easter lily was Guinevere, and her
golden hair, woven into rich, shining coils, made for her a crown
lovelier than any turned by the hands of man; while Enid's tropical
beauty glowed like the red, southern rose; and dark as midnight
were the tresses that framed her brow in wavy tendrils.

Finally a little cloud arose that threatened for a time to dim
the brightness of Geraint's new joy. There floated slowly through
the Court an evil rumor concerning the Queen, saying that fhe King
no longer had her heart, and, indeed, that he had never possessed
it, but that it was given to Lancelot; and that Lancelot, the King's
most trusted knight and closest friend, returned her love, and was
thereoy false to the King and to his solemn vows of knighthood.
Of course Arthur knew nothing of this; neither was any one else
certain, but there was much talk. And the matter troubled Geraint
greatly. His dear wife, Enid, was so closely bound to the Queen
by friendship that he feared she might in some degree be touched
by the breath of scandal, and the thought was torture to him. At
last he went to the King and begged permission to withdraw from
the Court for a time to his own princedom in Devon, saying that
robbers and marauders were molesting his estate and that his pres-
ence was needed to quell them. King Arthur, all unsuspicious of the
true reason, although wondering greatly, consented and Geraint and
Enid rode away, with fifty knights to accompany them. " And now,"
thought Geraint contentedly, " if ever wife were true to her lord,
mine shall be to me; for in this quiet home of ours, far away from
the poisonous influences of the Court, nothing can cone between
us."

For a time all went well, but Geraint's mind h.-.xd dwelt so

THE STORY OF GERAINT AND ENID

long on his foolish fears that he could not think clearly, and the
one thought — how to keep his wife's love — dwelt with him to
the exclusion of all others. He became so absorbed in pleasing her
that he scarce left her for a moment, and took no heed whatever
of ruling his province, of hunting or of joining in the tourney, and
no delight in the society of his peers, thereby bringing shame and
ridicule upon himself and upon Enid, who was blamed for his care-
less sloth. And the matter grieved Enid sorely, for her lord's
name was very dear to her; and she longed to tell him what peo-
ple were saying, and to ask if it were her fault that he no longer
cared for knightly deeds, but shame and the fear of grieving him
tied her tongue.

Finally, there came a morning when Enid awoke before her hus-
band, and, leaving her place at his side, drew up a chair and sat
beside him marveling at his strength and beauty, for his arms and
chest were bare in the bright warm sunshine which beat in upon
him. " O noble breast and mighty arms," she murmured, " am I
the cause that all your glory and your fame is gone, and that men
reproach you, saying your manlincs • is no more ? 'Tis true, Geraint,
I am, because I dare not tell what people say. And yet, rather
than have things as they are, how gladly would I gird thy harness
on thee and ride by thy side to battle, and even see thee wounded
— aye, wounded perhaps to death! Now, here have I the courage
for this great sacrifice, and yet am not brave enough to speak the
truth as a true wife should! Ah me! I fear I am no true wife."

As she spoke, her tears fell fast upon his face and breast, and
he awoke, hearing by great misfortune only her last words — that
she feared she was not a true wife. "Just Heaven! " he thought,
" in spite of all my care, and for all my pains, she Is not faithful
to me, and I see her weeping for some gay knight in Arthur's
hall!"

Th? thought goaded him sc fiercely that, without a single in-
quiring word, which might have set all clear between them, he
sprang quickly to the floor and called gruffly to his squire: " Make

f'l

88 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

ready my horse and arms and thy lady's palfrey; I vdl ride into
the wilderness." Then, turning to F.nid, he said in a voice he never
had used to her before: " It seems that my spurs are yet to win!
I have not fallen so low as some would wish. Do thou put on thy
worst and meanest dress and ride with me."

Enid vas frightened and amazed, not knowing why he was angry,
and faltered tearfully. "If I have done wrong, let me at least
know my fault."

" Question me not," replied Geraint harshly, " but do my bid-
ding."

So Enid turned away sorrowfully, and as she did so she be-
thought her of the old and faded silk in which Geraint had first
seen and loved her. Eagerly she brought out the cherished robe
and donned it hopefully, saying to herself: " Surely when my lord
sees this dress, his heart will soften, and he will tell me what griev.-'i
him and take me into his love again."

But, poor girl, Geraint had no eyes for gowns that morning.
Perhaps he dared not look at her for fear the tempest in his heart
would burst in thunder round her head. " Ride thou a good way
on before," he commanded briefly, with his eyes fixed upon his
saddle girths. " And I charge thee, on thy duty as a wife, what-
ever happens, do not speak to me — no, not a word! "

And Enid more frightened than before, silently obeyed, but
scarcely three paces had they passed when Geraint cried out spleen-
fully. " Effeminate as I am, I will not fight my way with gilded
arms; all shall be iron," and straightway foolishly threw his heavy
purse toward his squire.

So the last view Enid had of her home was the marble threshold
all shining with gold and scattered coin; and the insulted squire
chaffing his shoulder where the purse had struck.

" To the wilds! " cried Geraint, pointing the way to the marsh
lands, where bandits and savage beasts were most apt to abound.
And they fared forth, each busy with his own thoughts, and it was
hard to say which carried the heavier heart. A stranger meeting

THE STORY OF GERAINT AND ENID 89

them would have said at once, from their pale faces and disturbed
mien, that each had suffered some exceeding wrong. Ever Enid
cast about in her heart to divine her fault, and anon murmured
prayers for the safety of her lord. And Geraint cursed his
siupidity for wasting so much time in attending his wife, dressing
her beautifully and striving to keep her true, groaning over the
thoughts that would arise !

Toward noon Enid became aware of three armed knights lying
in wait for them in t.'ie shadow of a rock, and she heard them say,
" Look! Here comes a laggard k itrht who seems no bolder than
a beaten hound. See how his head hangs down 1 Let us set upon
him and slay him and his horse and armor and damsel shall be
ours."

Then Enid pondered in her heart, saying: " I will go back
and warn my lord of these caitiffs, lest they slay him, for he sees
them not. If he is angry with me and kills me, far better had I
die by his dear hand than that he should suffer shame."

Geraint received her in foolish wrath : " Did I wish your warn-
ing or your silence? Have you forgotten my command? Well,
then, look — for whether you wish me victory or defeat; long for
my life, or hunger for my death — you shall see my vigor is not
lost."

Tears filled Enid's eyes, for she was all unused to unkind words;
and she covered her face despairingly, fearing that her husband
would be overthrown. But anger made Geraint all-powerful.
With a savage cry as though giad to have something on which to
vent his spleen, he rushed upon the bandits, and with one powerful
stroke drove his spear through the first of them a cubit's length.
The other two now charged upon him, but their lances splintered
upon his heavy armor like straws, and in two strokes he slew them
both. Then he took off their armor and bound it upon their horses,
and hade Enid drive the animals on before her. She obeyed with-
out a word, and as Geraint followed her, somewhat nearer than
before, his heart smote him for his cruelty, and would fain have had

90 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

him take pity upon her and help her in her hard unlearn. 1 task.
But he stolidly refused and nursed his wrath in silence.

Scarcely had they gone a mile when Enid became aware of three
other mounted bandits at the edge of a wood, and one of them
seemed heavier than Geraint, and filled her heart with fear by his
boastings: " See, here cometh a prize — three horses armor-laden
and driven by a single fair damsel. A good knight following?
Aye, but a cowardly dog, else would he not put so much upon a
maiden! Come, let us fall upon him and take his damsel and his
goods."

" Alas," murmured Enid to herself, " I must disobey my husband
again I He is not on his guard, and full weary with his former
fight. Yea, though it displeases him, I must speak, for his life Is
dearer to me than my own."

So she waited for him to come up and faced him timidly, saying:
"Have I leave to speak?" Then told him all.

Geraint listened impatiently as before, then turned upon her
roughly: "If there were a hundred in the wood, and every man
were larger limbed than I, and all at once should sally out upon me,
I swear it would not ruffle me so much as you who do not obey me I
Stand aside, and If I fall, cleave to the better man."

And Enid turned away to wait the event, not daring to watch, and
scarcely feeling within herself strength to breathe in prayer. Then
he she dreaded most, bore fiercely down upon her lord. But his
lance missed, and Geraint's own spear drove straight through his
shield and corselet, and there broke short, felling the huge robber
from oH his horse. His companions came on slowly, their leader's
death filling all their veins with fear. Geraint, seeing this, bellowed
forth a fearful battle cry, and the knaves turned and fled. But he
would not suffer them to escape, and so set upon and slew them.
Then, binding their armor to the horses, as before, saving the
lance which pleased him most, he bade Enid to add them to her
charge.

Once more the odd procession started, and Geraint followed

THE STORY OF GERAINT AND ENTD 91

nearer than before, half-fascinated, despite his anger, by the skill
with which his wife managed her wayward horses, six of them with
their jingling arms. Indeed, after a time, he fancied that the
bandit horses pricked their light ears and strove to do their best
to help the good friend who directed them with firm voice and kind
government, and his heart again reproached him. So that when
they came to the end of the wood and found some mowers at work
in the field, and a lad bearing victuals to them, he took compassion
on her paleness, and stopped the boy, saying: " My son, let the
dai..jel eat, she is so faint."

" Vea, willingly," replied the lad. " and do thou, my lord, cat
also, for though the food is coarse 'twill give thee strength."

So Geraint and Enid dismounted, sitting down in the fragrant
hay, while their horses grazed at will near by, and they partook of
the humble fare, or rather Geraint did, for Enid was too sore at
heart to eat and she only pretended to do so, fearing to rouse her
lord's ire by refusal. At last Geraint, reaching into the basket for
more, found to his dismay that he had eaten all. " Boy," he cried,
"my appetite hath outrun my manners! I have emptied the
basket. But I will reward thee fairly, for never before did food
taste so good. Choose thou a horse and arms from the captive
six, and take the best."

" My lord," exclaimed the boy, reddening with delight, " you
overpay me fifty-fold! "

" You will be all the wealthier then," answered Prince Geraint
merrily.

" I take it as a free gift, then, not as a reward; for while your
damsel rests I can easily go to the Court and get more food, and,
while there, I will tell the Earl about you. He loves to know when
men of rank are in his territory, and will fetch you to his palace and
serve you with food more fit than mower's fare."

" No, indeed," said Geraint quickly. " I ask for no better food
than that which I have just eaten. And into the Earl's palace I
will not go! I know, God knows, too much now of palaces! Get

92 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

thee to the inn and secure us harhoraRc for the night. Then, if
thy Earl desires to speak with me, let him eeek mn there."

So the lad went away happily, leading his chosen horse, with his
head held high as though he fancied himself a knight, and (Jeraint
and Enid stayed in the field; nor spoke to one another, he drowsing
m the heat and albeit half-musing of his prophecy on their marriage
morn that naught could ever come between them, and she thinking
of their strange adventure and longing wistfully for her lord to
take her into his arms again.

Finally the messenger returned, and they moved to the house he
told them of, and remained till evening time, apart by all the
chamber's width and silent as two moody, drooping mutes. Then
came a loud discordant voice without, and their door drove suddenly
backward against the wall and the Earl and a party of rioting
friends bolted into their presence. Startled and withal ashamed,
Enid was dismayed to recognize in the wild lord of the place the
Earl Limours, a former much-scorned suitor, but she gave no sign.
So Geraint welcomed him cordially, and called for wine and goodly
cheer to feast the sudden guests.

When the drinking and feasting was at its height. Earl Limours,
made bold by the wine which coursed madly through his veins,
turned to Geraint and asked permission to cross the room and speak
with his good damsel, who seemed so pale and lonely. " Aye, take
my free leave," replied the Prince shortly. "Get her to speak;
she doth not speak to me."

And Limours, looking at his feet, arose and crossed to Enid's
side, where he bowed low and whispered admiringly, " Enid, the
pilot star of my lone life; Enid, my early and my only love;
Enid, the loss of whom hath turned me wild — what chance is
this? How is it I see you here, and in my power? But stay, girl,
fear me not; for in my heart, despite my wildness, is a touch
of sweet cWiUty. Methought that in the old days you would have
favored me, but for your father. Was it so? Tell me now;
make me a little happier. Do you :;ot owe me something for

THE STORY OF GERAINT AND ENID 93

a life half lost? Yea, the whole dear debt of all you are! And,
Enid, I see with joy that you and he sit apart and do not speak;
you come with no pajje or maid to serve you — doth he love you
as of old? Nay, call it not a lover's quarrel! I know men may
bicker with thin(^s thty love, but they do not make them lauj^hahle
in the eyes of all. Your wretched dress is an insult to your r-
son, and 'tis plain your beauty is no beauty to him now. Think
not you will win him back. 1 know men, and a man's love once
gone never returns. But here is one who loves you as of old,
the one true lover whom you ever owned; speak but a word, and
he shall cross our path no more! See, he sits surrounded by my
followers! If I but hold up my finger they will understand.
Zounds! Enid, do not look so frightened I I mean not blood;
my malice is no deeper than a moat, or stronger than a wall! "

He paused for very breath, and Enid shrank timidly from the
impassioned ga/e of his wine-heated eyes. She longed to fly to
Geraint for shelter, yet dared noi in his present mood, and so was
forced to trust to her woman's wit to protect her. " Earl," she
murmured softly, " if, indeed, you love me as in (^ormer years, and
seek not to betray me, come in the morning and snatch him from
me by violence. Leave me here to-night, I pray thee, for I am
weary to the death."

Low bowed the Earl till his brandished plume brushed his in-
stpri, then turned swiftly and bade the Prince good night and de-
par'.^ i homeward, bragging to his men that the fair Enid never
lovea man but him, nor cared a broken egg-shell for her lord I
And i'.nid, left alone with Prince Geraint, sat pondering how
she could best break her lord's command of silence and tell him
all that troubled her. As she wrestled with her thoughts, the
calmness of the room bore in upon her, and turning she saw that
Geraint had fallen back in deep sleep upon the couch where he
sat. Swiftly she flew to his side, and, settling him in a com-
fortable position, hung over him in a rush of tenderness, noting
his firm, deep breathing, and thanking God that he had passed

94 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

throuRh the day's perils in safety. Finally, overcome with fatigue,
she leaned against him and slept a troubled sleep till the cot.k,
crowing at dawn, awakenctl her. Kisin^j; up, she endeavored to
collect and arrange her husband's armor, and, while bungling at
her unusual task, let it tall jingling to the floor. Immediately
(Icraint rose up and stared at her, and Fnid broke the silence
he had commanded and told him all Farl I.iriiours had said, sav-
mg the passage touching, her husband's love, and ended by craving
his pardon for her own crafty reply.

'I hough his mind still dwelt upon her words of the previous
morning, Geraint could find no fault with her now in word or
deed, so he bade her order their horses brought. Quickly F.nid
roused the sleepmg host, and then, all unasked, aided her lord to
don his armor. Sallying forth Geraint bade thr amazed land-
lord keep five horses and their armor for his pay, then, as he
assisted his wife to mount, charged her, saying: "Enid, I es-
pecially ask to-day that, whatsoever you may hear or sec, you
warn me not. See that you obey."

" Yea, my lortl," answered Enid sadly, " 'tis ever my wish to
obey you, but your command is a hard one, when I must ride
in advance and hear the evil threats, and note the danger which
you seem rot to see."

" 3e not too wise," answered Geraint unkindly, " seeing that
you are wedded to a man who hath arms to guard his head and
yours, eyes to find you out however far, and ears to hear you even
in his dreams."

Forward toward the WLSte earldom of Doorm they traveled, and
Enid's heart trembled within her; for the Earl of Doorm, whom
his trembling vassals called " the bull," was known far and wide
for his strength und fierceness. In a short time her straining ears
heard the tramp of horses' hoofs away in their rear, and, turn-
ing, she beheld a cloud of dust. Now Geraint rode in sullen
silence as though he heard them not, so she rode toward him and,
lifting her hand, pointed to the oncoming cloud. Pleased with

THK STORY OF GKRAINT AND ENID 9?

what he termcil her ohcdlcncc to his command, CJcraint turncil
ami waited the onslaught.

In a moment, I.imours, borne on a Mack horse, " like a thunder-
cloud whose skins are loosened by the breaking storm," dashed
up and closed with him. But Geraint smote him heavily to the
earth, and overthrew the next who followed, and charged single-
handed the small brigade of knights behind. At his first cry
of battle the rogues fled panic-stricken, this way and that, like a
shoal of darting fish that scatters in a moment at the warning
shadow of a man's hand on the stream.

"What think you of your lover now?" cried the Prince, with
ill-advised humor. "Has your palfrey heart enough to bear his
armor? Shall we strip him of it, and buy therewith a dinner for
ourselves? Say, which shall it be, fast or dine?"

But I'.nid, half-angered by his coarseness, spoke never a word
in reply, and led the way onward, her tcar-hlind eyes fixed steadily
upon her bridle-reins. And so they journeyed, Geraint suffering
in silence from a wound received in his late combat, and grimly
determined to speak not a word of it to his wife, till his eye dark-
ened and his helmet trembled, and, at a sudden turn In the road,
he went down In a heap upon a bank of grass. In a moment,
however, his wronged uiie was beside him, and had swiftly un-
fastened his armor till .le found the wound and bound it up in
her faded veil. Tb.n, fearing that perhaps he was hurt to the
death, the horror of it all charged her overwrought nerves, and
she sank down beside the way weeping heart-brokenly.

Many passed but none heeded them; for it was no uncommon
sight in those days to see a woman weeping by the side of her fallen
knight. A fugitive fleeing from the wrath of Doorm tore past,
and frightened her palfrey so that he ran away 'r.to the bushes and
was lost, but the noble war-horse stood by like a staunch friend,
and tried to stay her grief by rubbing a sympathizing nose against
her shoulder and face. At last, when her grief had worn itself
low from very violence, she became aware of a body of knights

96 run SrORY OF IDYLLS OF THK KING

approaching. At their head rode one whom she readily divined
as the ^rcat I'arl Doorrii himself.

Stirrcil hy the bcautilul, sorrowing face, he paused. "What!
is he dead? " he called.

"No, no, not dead I " she answcreii, in all haste. "Would
some of your kind people fake him up and bear him away out of
this scorchinjj; sun? Most sure am I that he is not dead."

" Well, dead or not," said the I'^.arl heartlessly, " you mar a
comely face with idiotic tears! I hey can avail him nothing!
But, since the damsel's face is beautiful, boys, we will prant the
favor. Take him up you, Jeems and Gurth, and bear him to
the h;ill. If he lives, wc will have him in our band; if he dies,
we h.ive got earth enough to cover him. And don't forget the
charger, men, he is a noble one."

The great Farl passed on, and two biawny spearmen advanced
to do his bidding, growling like dogs because they were thus forced
to lose the bones that might by chance fall to them in the day's
hunt. Roughly they tossed (ieraint upon a rude litter-bier, all in
the hollow of his shield, and bore him to the dark, silent hall of
Doorm, where they casi him hastily down upon an oaken settle,
and rushed away to join their mates in the chase. There through
the long hours of the afternoon Fnid sat by her husband, chafing
his hands, bathing his brow, and calling upon him in endearing
terms to awaken and speak to her.

At last her voice pierced through the lethargy which bound
him, and he became aware of the warm tears falling on his face.
" Ah, ha," thought he delightedly, " she weeps for me." And he
resolved to lie still and test her to the uttermost, so he gave no
sign.

As the night shades were falling, the Earl of Doorm and his
spearmen came back with their plunder. Soon the great hall rang
with life and light and the tumult of many voices. A score or
more of handsome, well-dressed women, joined the knights, and,
following them, came servants bearing food anu wine. Whole

THE STOKV OF GtRAIM' AM) I.MU

hogs am] quarter beeves, large Hagons of rich wines, and all manner
of choice eatables made the tal'ic groan, and the bandits fell to
with an eagerness not unlike that of swine. I heir greediness made
I'.nid faint and sick, and she crouched farther back into her dark
corner, trembling with fear and horror.

At last the Karl of Doorrii could eat no more, and, raising his
eyes from his plate, he ga/ed indolently about the hall until his
sharp eyes fell on the shrnking form of Lnid. In a moment he
remembered the scene of the afternoon and strode toward her.
" I]at ! " he commanded. ' I never yet beiield a thing so pale,
(jod's curse, it makes me mad to sec you weep! Good luck had
your good man, for were I dead, who in all the world would weep
for me? Sweet lady, never since I lirst drew breath have I be-
held a lady like yourself. If you had some color in your cheeks,
there is not one among my gentlewomen tk to wear your slipper
for a glove. Listen to me, girl, you shall share my earldom with
me, and we will live like two birds in one nest. I will fetch you
•vonderful forage from the fields; for 1 compel all creatures to my
will."

Great consternation followed the Earl's words. His knights
stared at him with bulging cheeks, forgetting in their amazement
to swallow their food. 1 he women made grimaces at each other,
and one and all hated the fair stranger vho stood in their midst
with sorrowing down-bent head.

" I pray you, sir/' answered Enid, speaking so low and with
such difficulty that the Earl heard not what she said, " my lord
being as he is, kindly let me be."

" .\ye," replied the Earl, in gracious, self-satisfied vanity, well-
pleased at himself for having made the oflfer, and nc er thinking
any woman would reject it, " eat and be glad, for you are mine."

" How can I be glad," queried Enid sadly, taking no notice
of the last part of his speech, " unless my lord arise and speak to
me?"

Vexed at what he termed her foolishness, the Earl caught her

98 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

by the arm and drew her by main force to the table, where he
placed food before her and sternly commanded her to eat.

" No, no," cried Enid pleadingly, " I will not eat till yonder
man upon the bier arises and eats with me!

" Drink, then," answered the Earl shortly^ " Here," pouring
her a glass of wine, " drink this, and the wine will change your
will."

" No, indeed," sobbed Enid, " 1 will not drink unless my dear
lord bids me do it. If he rises no more, then shall I drink no
wine while I live."

For a moment the Earl paced the floor angrily, gnawing his
lips in perplexity, then paused fore Enid. " Girl," he said warn-
ingly, " yonder man is dead. Be careful how you scorn my
courtesies! A fool you are to weep for one who dressed you in
rags! Doff your ragged, faded dress, and let my gentlewomen
clothe you in a robe behtting your beauty."

" No," persisted Enid, ' I ^-ray you let me be. In this poor
gown my dear lord first found and loved me; in this poor gown
I first rode with him to Court where the beautiful Queen arrayed
me for my bridal like the sun; in this poor gown he bade me clothe
myself yesterday when we fared forth in search of adventure, and
I will not cast it away unless he himself arises and bids me do it.
I can never love any one but him; I pray you be gentle and let

me be "

"Trul," cried the Earl, beside himself with rage, and seeing
how his "rtomen smiled behind their hands, " it is of no use to be
gentle with you ! Take that for my salute ! " giving her a sting-
ing slap on the cheek with his palm.

And Enid, in her utter fear and helplessness, thinking he would
net have dared do such a thing had he not felt certain Geraint
was dead, gave forth a sudden oliarp, bitter cry, like a wild thing

in a trap.

Then a strange, terrifying thing happened. With a sudden
bound the apparently lifeless knight dashed into the center of the

THE STORY OF GERAINT AND ENID

room, sword in hand, and with one mighty sweep severed the head
from the great l-^arl's body, and let it roll like a russet-bearded
ball upon the floor. All the knights and women ran shrieking from
the room, thinking a specter had arisen in their midst, and Geraint
and Enid were left alone.

"Oh, Enid, my wife," cried Geraint, catching hij wife's hands
in a close, warm clasp, " forgive mc I I have done you more wrong
than yonder villain! Forgive me, I pray you, for though my own
ears heard you say yesterday morning, when you thought me sleep-
ing, that you feared you were no true wife, I needs must believe
you against yourself. I know not what you meant, neither shall
1 ask; but of this I am certain no man ever yet had a truer or love-
lier wife! Henceforward I will die rather than doubt."

And Enid was silent for very happiness, but her starry eyes
flashed back a world of answering love and she yielded herself to
his embrace. Presently a sudden terror shot through her heart.
"O Geraint, fly! Fly before It is too late! They will pluck up
courage soon to return, and then they will surely slay you. Fly,
my l.sband, our charger is just without the door, forgotten in the
edge of the laurels; I saw him but a moment since — my palfrey
is lost."

" 1 hen shall you ride with me, dear Enid. Come! " answered
Geraint, leading her forth.

Scarcely had they reached the open hall door when the noble
war-horse came toward them with a low whinny. Enid threw
her arms about his neck and kissed his white-starred forehead
in glad welcome. Then Geraint quickly mounted and held out
his hand to his wife; grasping it, she set her foot upon his and
so climbed up, and Geraint leaned over and warmly kissed her.
So they rode swiftly away, and the heart of Enid rejoiced.

Just without the gateway of the castle, a full-armed knight
rode toward them with all speed and made as though to set upon
(ieraint. And Enid, fearing for her lord's hurt and loss of blood,
cried loudly: " I pray thee, knight, slay not a dead man! "

loo THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

"The voice of Enidl" joyfully exclaimed the strange knight.
' nd lol it was Edyrn, the son of Nudd, Enid's cousin whom
(jeraint had overthrown at the joust of the Sparrow-hawk. But
Enid perceived not his gladness, and was more fearful than be-
fore, for she knew not what his spirit might be toward them.

" O cousin," she cried pleadingly, " slay him not who gave thee
life!"

" My lord Geraint," said Edyrn, holding out a welcoming hand,
" I groet you with all love. I took you for a bandit knight of
Doorm. Fear not, Enid, that I should fall upon him who has done
so much for me; for once when I was up so high in pride that I
was halfway down the slope to Hell, by overthrowing me he threw
me higher. Now, by his grace, I am i knight of Arthur's Round
Table, and I am come, a mouth-pitv-. if our good King, to bid the
Earl of Doorm disband himself, and scatter all his powers, and
come to the judgment of the King."

" Alas, thou art too late ! " exclaimed Geraint. " He now hears
the judgment of the great King of kings, and his powers are
scattered. See! and he pointed to the frightened men and woi.:en
staring from knolls here and there, and to others still fleeing in
the distance. Then he told what had befallen, and how the Earl
lay dead in his silent hall.

But when Edyrn prayed him to come to the camp hard by and
acquaint the King of the matter, he was unwilling and ashamed,
knowing all his own folly.

" Well," said Edyrn, at last, when he found no argument would
move him, " if you will not come to Arthur, he will come to you."

"Enough!" cried Geraint resignedly. "Lead on, I follow."

And Enid, as they journeyed, was consumed by two fears: one
from the bandits scattered along the way, and the other from
Edyrn, from whom she shrank with nervous timidity each time
he drew near. At last, perceiving this, he said reassuringly:
" Fair and dear cousin, you no longer have need to fear me: I
am changed. Since my overthrow at my last foolish Sparrow-

THE STOREY OF GERAINT AND ENID loi

hawk joust, when your good husband taught me a much-needed
lesson, I have sought to do better. Ot course. It did not all come
at once; but when 1 went up to the Court of Arthur, all ashamed
and expecting to be treated like a wolf, I met with such courtesy,
sucii fim. .eserve, and noble reticence, that I longed to be like those
about me. My past life looked black indeed, and I sought the
wise counsel of the holy Dubric. Often I saw you, Elnid, with our
beautiful Queen, but I kept myself aloof lest my presence should
vex you."

His words made Enid's heart glad indeed, and, while she mur-
mured her pleasure, they came to King Arthur's camp and the
King himself advanced to greet them. For a moment he spoke
apart with Edyrn, then gravely smiling, advanced and, lifting Enid
from behind Geraint, set her upon her feet and kissed her brother-
like, then pointed out a tent where she might rest, and watching
until she entered therein, turned eagerly to Geraint:

" Ah, Prince, I welcome you back heartily. When first you
prayed leave to go to your own land and defend your marshes,
I was pricked with some reproof; for I felt that I had let foul
wrong stagnate and delegated too much to other eyes and hands.
Therefore, I am now come here with Edyrn and others to cleanse
this common sewer of my realm. I thank you for the justice meted
out to the wicked Earl; Edyrn has briefly told me all. And have
you looked at Edyrn, and marked how nobly he is changed? Great
is the thing which he hath done; for he hath changed his old life
of violence to one of sanest, noblest, most valorous obedience.
Verily, he that conquereth his own spirit is better than he that
taketh u city. To my mind the thing which he hath done is greater
and more wonderful than -f he had gone out single-handed and
overcome a band of pc^erful robbers. But come. Prince, you
are wounded. Get you to shelter, and I will summon mine own
physician to wait upon you."

Meekly Geraint bowed low and departed, his heart filled with
remorse over his own late shortcomings. And for many days he

I02 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

lay weakly upon his low cot, while his wound slowly healed. Enid
lingered ever tieside him, nursing and ministering unto all his wants
with tender cheerfulness; and each day their love for each other

grew deeper.

Now, while Geraint lay in enforced idleness, the King and
his knights went up and down throughout the Doorm realm and set
all in order. The slothful officers and the guilty ones, who for
bribe winked at wrong, were ousted out of office, and strong, wise
men set therein. For many days a thousand men moved here
and there in all the waste lands, clearing out the uark places, and
letting in the light and the law. Then, when Geraint was whole
again, they moved slowly back to Caerleon-on-Usk.

Most joyfully did Queen Guinevere welcome her friend Enid,
and clothed her once mrre in beautiful apparel. And Geraint,
though not as proud r friendship as he once had been, rested

well content, knowing ...at i ; held all of his beautiful wife's love,
nor feared he the influence of another. And so for a time they
abode in the Court of Arthur; then traveled away to their home on
the Severn in Devon. Here Geraint administered the King's
justice so wisely and well, that all men loved him and rejoiced in
his good government and his might in tournament and battle.
Ever>-where he was spoken of as the " Great Prince " and " Man
of Men," and his wife Enid was loved and revered no less than
himself, and people called her " Enid the Good." Noble children
came to bless their home, and nevermore did trouble darken their
doors, until Geraint's honorable life was ended In the great battle
for the King against the heathen of the North Sea.

CHAPTER VIII

THK LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT

ONCE, when Arthur was hut a hoy, he roamed one day
through the trackless reahiis of Lyonesse, and stumbled
all unawares upon a valley which the people all about
shunned. This vale was haunted by two brothers, one a king, who
had t'ought and killed each other there, and their bones lay bleach-
ing in the sun. And Arthur, laboring up the pass in the misty
moonshine, stepped suddenly upon the skeleton that wore the
crown, and the skull broke from the neck, and the crown,
thus set in motion, turned on its rims and rolled down
the crags like a glittering rivulet. Arthur scrambled after, and
secured it at the risk of his life. Beautiful, indeed, was the prize,
of richly wrought gold, all engraved in fanciful design, and
decorated with nine diamonds, one in front and four on each side.
"Ah!" cried Arthur, in boyish admiration and elation, setting
the crown on his head, " would that I were a king! "

Years passed on and Arthur's wish came true; then he brought
forth the crown and, plucking out the jewels, showed them to
his knights, saying: " These jewels which I chanced upon divinely
are not mine. They belong to the kingdom, and I shall devote
them to 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 from out all our

land."

And it came to pass as the King desired. Eight years rolled
away, and eight jousts had been, and each time Lancelot had easily
won the diamond, intending when he had secured all to give them
to the (Juccn in token of his love and loyalty. The time for the

103

104 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE RING

ninth and last tournament was at hand, and the prize was to be the
central diamond, the largest and most beautiful of them all. But
it so chanced that Queen Guinevere was just recovering from an
illness, and could not be present.

" Alas," mourned the King ri fretfully, "I wish the time were
not now; for you will miss the great deeds of Lancelot and his
powers in the lists, — a sight you love to look on."

The Queen answered never a word, but lifted her eyes
languidly to Lancelot, where he stood beside the King, and Lance-
lot, wh(jse love for her was ever in conflict with his loyally and
love for the King, thought within himself: "Alas, she needs
me here. Is not my love greater than jewels?" So, though it
grieved him sorely to give up hope of winning the last diamond,
he turned to the King ^nd observed sadly: "Ah, King, I am
afraid the jewel is lost to me; for my old wound that Sir Mador
gave me troubles me of late, and 1 am scarce fit for the saddle."

P'or a moment a troubled doubt crossed the good King's heart,
and he glanced sharply first at his wife, then at his trusted knight,
Lancelot, but he turned '•way without a word. Scarcely had he
closed the door, when the Queen burst out peevishly: " To blame,
my lord Lancelot, much to blame! Why do you not go to the
jousts? Half of the knights now are our enemies, and they will
accuse us of shamefully staying at ome and betraying •^he good
King's trust."

And Lancelot, vexed that he had lied to the King all to no
purpose, replied hastily: "My Queen, you are overlate in your
wisdom; you were not so wise when first you loved me. As for
the gossips, let them say what they will; but, Indeed, my loyal wor-
ship is allowed by all, and no offense is thought. But is there
more? Hath the King spoken, or does my loving service weary
you?"

"The faultless King, my lord Arthur!" laughed Guinevere
scornfully, " he cares not for me. He is ;0 wrapped up in his
foolish fancy of the Round Table, and swearing men to impos-

THE LILY MAID Ol- ASTOLAT

los

sible vows, ll'at he never thinks of me. Reproached me? In-
deed, no. lie has never had a glimpse of mine untruth; but to-
day I thought there gleamed a vague suspicion in his eyes. The
pink of perfection is he, — but who can gaze on the sun in heaven?
.My friend, to me he is all fault who hath no fault at all! I am
yours, not Arthur's, as you know, save by the bond, and therefore
must you hear niy words: go you to the jousts."

" But," queried Lancelot, " how can I show myself at the tour-
nament after my lying pretext of a wound? The King himself
Is utter truth, and honors his own word as if it were his God's."

" Yea," sneered the Queen, " a moral child without the craft
to rule, else had he not lost me. But listen, if I must find you wit:
disguise yourself and go unknown pretending that, as men have
said knights fall before the glamor of your name rather than
the prowess of your sword, you sought in this way to test your
might. This will please the King, for no keener hunter after
glory lives than himself. Go, and win I "

So Lancelot perforce yielded to the Queen's wishes, and in a
sorry temper got himself to horse, and set out by unfrequented
ways for the tourney field. As he journeyed among the solitary
downs, full often lost in fancy, it chanced that he missed his way,
and toward? evening drew near to the castle of Astolat, which
shown from afar in the western sun. Riding up to the marble
gateway, he blew a shrill blast upon the horn which hung with-
out, and immediately an old gray-headed man, dumb as an oyster,
appeared and motioned him to enter. Right willingly Lancelot
obeyed, marveling much at the speechless man, who showed him
to a little chamber in the turret and helped him to disarm. And
straightway Lancelot came forth, and met the lord of the castle
and his two stalwart sons. Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, while close
behind came Elaine, the daughter, who for her fairness was called
by the people " The Lily Maid of Astolat." There was no mother
of the house to greet him, for God had called her.

" Whence comest thou, my guest?" cried the Lord of Astolat,

io6 nil-: sroRv of idylls of thk klno

cxtciuJiiij^ his liarui in hearty j^rcctinj;. " Ami what may be thy
name ? I ^,'ucss from thy stately presence that thou behingest to
the great Court ot Arthur and the knights of the Round Table."

" Aye," answered Lancelot, " thou hast guessed truly. But ask
not my name now, for I desire to ride unknown to the jousts, and
may not give my reasons. /\Iso I would ask another favo- of
thee: unwittingly I brought my shield with me, and I dare not
carry it to the tourney, for it is widely known; I pray thee, tlien,
lend mc another shield, that my disguise may be complete, and
keep this one till I come again "

" Gladly will I do so," answered the liost. " ^ ou can have my
son Torre's. He was lately wounded and can not ride to the
tilt."

" Yea," said Sir lorre bluntly, " since I cannot use it, you may
have it."

'■ Fie, Sir Churl," laughed the father, " is that an answer for
a noble knight? lorgive him, my guest. But here is La\aine,"
turning playfully to his younger son, " he is going to the Diamond
Jousts, and forsooth he is so strc ng and brave that he will certainly
do nothing less than win, in an hour's time, and has promised to
bring back the diamond and set it in his sister's golden hair."

" Nay, good father," cried Lavaine, crimsoning with embar-
rassment, " shame me not before this knight. Thou knowcst it
was all a jest! Torre was vexed because he could not go, and
my sister here told us how she dreamed that some one brought her
the diamond, but that she let it slip through her hand and lost it
in the stream. And so. Sir Knight, I said ;/ I won the prize, then
she must keep it bcttei. So y see it was nothing but a joke I
But, dear father, if he will have my company, I sliould like very
much to ride to the jousts with this good knight. Win, of course,
I shall not, but yet I will do my best."

"Indeed," said Lancelot hear' ly, "I shoulil be glad to have
your company and gultlance over these iiioots wht^reon I all but
lost myself. Also should I like to see vou win the diamond and

THE LILY .\L\1D OF ASTOLAT

107

bring it home to your lair sister. It is a wondrous jewel I hear."

" Aye," muttered Sir Torre bitterly, " a fair, large diamond,
more fit for queen than for lily-maid."

"Nay, not so," answered Lancelot gallantly. " If the proverb,
'what is fair be but for the fair,' is true, as I think it is, then
this fair maiden might wear as fai. a jewel as there is on earth."

And Elaine, won by his mellow voice, thought to herself,
" Surely this is the most noble knight In Arthur's Hall," and there
stole into her heart a love for him which later worked her tloom.
Yet there was little about this knightly courtier to win a maiden's
fancy, saving his kingly bearing, gracious courtesy, and pleasinj^
converse. Twice her age was he, and his noble face was bronzed
and worn with care, and scarred with the conlll>.t between his love
for Guinevere and his loyalty to Arthur, his friend and King. But
still he was good to look upon, the darling of the Court, and past-
master of the art of conversation, and he channed them all, as
they sat about the dinner board that evening, with his talk of Court
and camp and adventures here and there. I lowever, when Guin-
evere's name was mentioned, he deftly switched the tide of talk,
and inquired concerning the dumb man who had admitted him.

" The heathen reft him of his tongue ten years ago," answered
the host, " when he learned of their fierce design against my house,
and warned me of It. With my sons and little daughter I fled
to the woods and had refuge in a boatman's hut by the river for
many days, till our good King drove the pagan out from Badon
hill."

" O, Sir Knight," cried Lavalne eagerly, interrupting his father's
tale of woe, " tell us of Arthur's famous wars, for we live apart
and know so little."

Willingly Sir Lancelot complied, for he loved to tell of Arthur's
prowess in battle, and his hearers sat spell-bound before his tales
of knightly daring. In glowing words he told of the four loud
battles by the shore of Duglas; of the terrible war that thundered
in and out of the gloomy skirts of the Celidon forest; of the

io8 nil-: STORY OF lUVLI.S OF MI!: KING

struggle by Castle Cjurnion, wlicrc t

t.e gl

orioiis

K^n

J '.vorc on

cuirass

the fan.ous Russian Fnicrald (first given

by 1

I Lite to

Tiberius C^sar), having the head of Christ engraved upon it,
and how the sun splintered in silver rays, lightening as he breathed,
until the Saxons were sore if raid; of the conquest at Cacrleon,
where the strong neighings of the wild, white horse set every gilded
nd of the last great battle on the mount of

parapet s

hudd

ering; a

charged

the head of his Round Tabh

icau oi nis i\ouna i ahle
and broke the heathen. " Oh," he cried in conclusion, " the King
is mighty on the battle-field! There lives no greater leader! At
home he sermeth mild and careth not at all for our jousts, laugh-
ing when jne of his knights overthrows him easily according him
the better man, but, when he faces the heathen in battle array,
the fire of (lod descends upon him. He is transfigured and his
face is wonderful to behold. There is no man like our glorious

King!"

"Saving your own great self!" thought Elaine worshipfully,
following the light and shade of his talk with ever deepening in-
terest and noting the play of expression on his speaking counte-
nance. And, perceiving an under current of sadness through all,
she tried by various little attentions to bring him cheer, and suc-
ceeded each time in calling up such a " sudden-beaming tenderness
of manners and nature " that, all unused to men and courtier ways,
she thought the brightness beamed for her alone. All night long
the dark, splendid face lived before her, speaking in silence of
noble things, and it held her from sleep. At dawn she arose and
went down into the courtyard, cheating herself with the belief
that she went but to bid Godspeed to her young brother,

Lavaine.

Now it so chanced that as she stole down the long tower stairs,
Lavaine passed within to get Torre's shield for Lancelot, and so
the lily-maid found the knight standing alone by his proud horse,
smoothing its glossy shoulder, and humming to himself. Half-
envious of the noble horse, Elaine drew nearer and stood gazing

TlIK Lll.V MAID OF ASTOLA 1'

109

with all luT soul. And I.inicclot, turniiif^ aroutni, stood more
.itna/cd than il seven men had suiiilcniy set upon hlrii, for in the
dewy li^ht the iriaiden seemed more beautiful than the angels;
yet a sort of fear stirred him as he saw that she ^;a/,cd upon his
face as though it were a j^od's. He j^rectcd her silently, and
suddenly there flashed over her a wild desire that he should wear
her fasor at the tilt. For it was the custom in those days for
knights to wear in their helms at tournaments some glove or scarf
(il the lady whom they favored most. Timidly, and with madly
beating heart, she made the request.

And Lancelot scarce knew how to answer her. Before his guilty
soul floated the vision of Queen Guinevere's matchless beauty, and
the thing Flalne asked seemed impossible. " Nay, fair lady," he
said slowly, turning away to avoid her disappointment. " It has
never been my custom to wear a lady's favor at the hsts, therefore
I cannot do it now."

" But," answered Elaine eagerly, seeking an excuse for him with
ready woman's tact, " if you now wear my favor it will then aid
the more in keeping your disguise."

" 1 rue, my child," agreed Lancelot, seeing much wisdom in her
counsel. " Well, I will wear it. F'etch it out to me."

Delighted to obey, Elaine skipped happily to her boudoir, re-
turning straightway with a red velvet sleeve, beautifully em-
broidered with shining pearls, and bound it upon his helmet. And
Lancelot submitted smilingly, saying: "Never yet have I done
so much for any maiden living."

The words filled Elaine's heart with delight and dyed her beau-
tiful face a rich carmine, but the color Hed quickly, leaving her
paler than before, as Lavaine appeared with his brother's shield,
and made ready to depart.

" Do me the grace, my child, to keep my shield till I return,"
said Lancelot, handing to Elaine his famous shield, whereon
gleamed the azure lions in shining, jeweled splendor, and sub-
stituting Torre's plain, and as yet unblazoned one.

no rm. SIORV oj" lUVl.l.S Ol llll. KL\(i

'• I he Kr.uf Is tninc, Sir Knight." rcpru'il I'l.iinc, ;• ■cc|>tlll^^ the

char^jc ^l.uliy.

'Ihi-n l.avalnc kissed the roses h.uk into his sister's cheeks, " h-si
people think her re. lis a lilv-inaul." I lu- Kin^;'s kni^jht kissed
his haiul to her in true courtier fashion, and tlie two rode away.
I'laine watching thern from the castle gateway as far as she -niyht

see.

And so it ranie to pass that —

Klainr the fair, llaiiic t!ic lnvablc,
Klainc the liU-iuaiil nt Astiilat,
High in hiT elianiluT up a toucr to tlir i;«st,
Guaulcd the sacred shiel.i of Lancelot.

Elaine passed her days in sweet dreaminfj; and vain ima^ininKS.
She placed the shield where the sun's first rays mi^ht strike the
jeweled lions, and awaken her with their fleams from her dreams
of their great owner. 'Ihcn, as the davs pa-sed. she he^an to fear
the shieKl niight rust, and she furnished for it \ beautiful case,
all embroidered with silk after the fashion of the shield itself, and
added from her needle-woman's skill a border of branch and
flower, and a yeliow-throaled nestling a nest. And, as she

worked, she museii over each cut and dint in the scariid sh:e!d
and fancied what had taken place in tield and tournament.

Meantime the two knights fared forward towarti the lists, and,
as they neared their destination, the elder said to the younger:
" Would you know my name? Hear it then, but tell it not. 'Tis
Lancelot of the Lake."

"Is it, truly?" gasped the lad, filled with hero-worshiping
reverence, "'''he great Lancelot! At last, I have my wish!
Our country's greatest knight! Now, if I might see the great
Arthur Pendragon, Britain's King of kings, then might I die

happy ! "

They were already nearing the meadow^ where the jousts were
to be held, so Lancelot made no reply further than to wave his

THi: LILV MAil) OF ASiOLAl

III

hand toward the hsts, and watch the joy and adniii ion dawn on
the yoiinK knij^ht'i face. It was indeed a (tofucouj sij;ht. 1 he
jrrcat half-round ^-I'lcy of scats, filled with richly ilressed spec-
tators, " lay like a rainhow fallen upon the grass." And the lists
were rapidly filling with knights, magnificent in their battle array.
I.avainc'" eys wamlfed eagerly over the throng, until they icsted
upon the high throne, where the great King sat, robed in red
samite. All about the royal seat shone and writhed carved, golden
dragons, the royal crest of the great house of Pendragon. .\
golden dragon clung to the King's crown and writhed down his
long, rich robe. Iwo others formed the arms of the chair of
s'ate. And just above the King's head, in the ornaments of the
canopy, was a golden flower, in the center of which shone the
great diamond prize of the day.

Lancelot, observing how the lad's eyes were riveted on the
King, spoke solemnly, "just now you called me great, perhaps be-
cause I have some skill in war and tourney, but, no doubt, many
a youth now in the ascendant will attain to all I have and sur-
pass me. (jreatness is not in me, unless it be in the knowledge that
I have it not. Yonder is the great man — our peerless, white
King!"

Lavaine stared at him in wonder, not half-comprehending what
was meant, but just then the bugles blew and both sides began to
make ready for the jousts. The Knights of the Round Table
formed the challenging party, and those who came to tilt against
them were kings, princes, barons, and knights from far and near.
And Lavaine was for taking sides at once and preparing for the
fray, but Lancelot signaled to him and drew av.'ay out of the line
of combat, and the boy followed his leader, for to his hero-wor-
shiping heart Lancelot's slightest will was law.

The knights quickly formed into two long lines at opposite ends
of the field. " With helmets crested with their ladies' favors or
with nodding plumes, and long lances bedecked with pennons that
danced to th ■ iit of the breeze, the great company of knights

1,2 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING
awaited the signal for the onset. And no less impatient than their
riders, the splendid war-horses quivered for the fray. Tnen
suddenly the heralds blew a mighty blast on their trumpets; the
knights struck spur; and riders and steeds, alike wild with the joy
of the conflict, were hurled together in the center of the lists. The
hard earth trembled with the shock, and the clear air of mornmg
reverberated with the thunder of arms."

Lancelot withheld his hand for a time, until he could see which
was the weaker side, then he hurled himself into the midst of the
press against the stronger, which was his own order of the Round
Table. In a moment it became evident that the knight with the
red sleeve favor was a great acquisition to the losing side.
Spurred on by cheers and shouts, he was soon at the head of the
line — duke, carl, baron, and knight gave way before him, and it
began to look as though the Knights of the Round Table would
be overcome. Great excitement prevailed on every hand;^ the
spectators rose in their seats in astonished admiration; the knights
in the lists marveled much and questioned one another : " Who
is this strange knight of the red sleeve that tilts with a daring al-
most equal to that of the great Lancelot himself?" And even
King Arthur was fired at last by the wonderful deeds of th- stranger,
and cheered him lustily.

Presently there arose in the hearts of the Round Table knights
a strong fc Tmg of jealousy that there should live a knight who
could outdo lie chivalrous deeds of their own beloved chief. And
the cousins of Lancelot — strong, mighty men of great prowess in
battle — counseled together, and finally bore down upon the
stranger in a body, determined to overthrow him, and thus keep
their kinsman peerless still. Like a great wave of the North Sea
they came on, seeking by weight of men and horses to overwhelm
Lancelot and the brave knight fighting valiantly at his right hand,
who was none other than the youth, Lavaine. One, with lance
aimed low, lamed Lancelot's noble horse; and another struck

THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT

sharply with his speir and pierced through shield and mail, leav-
ing the lance head buried in Sir Lancelot's side.

Then Lavaine, seeing the great danger of his beloved hero,
did a most noble deed. With a v.ell-aimed blow he overthrew a
mighty warrior, took his horse, and brought it to where Sir Lancr-
lot lay. And Lancelot, sweating with agony from the great wound
in his side, got to the horse with Lavaine's aid, minded to endure
as long as he might. With a great shout the knights of his party
rallied round him; and stirred to fresh zeal by his courage, they
smote with might and main. Ever Lancelot led thLm on until
he had driven his kinsmen and all the knights of the Round Table
back to the very extremity of the lists. Then came a wild blast
of the trumpets, and the Heralds proclaimed that the victory be-
longed to the knight of the red sleeve, and bade him advance and
get the diamond.

But Lancelot sat as if suddenly bereft of motion, and his party,
seeing this, set up a deafening cheer and cried with one voice:
"Advance, man, and get the prize! 'Tis well won."

" The prize! " gasped Lancelot, suddenly swaying in the saddle,
"No diamond prize for mel My prize is death! For God's
love give me air! "

Struck dumb with consternation were all the knights about him,
and Lancelot took swift advantage of their plight and stole away
from the field. And no one marked where he went, save the faith-
ful Lavaine, who spurred his horse forward and kept him silent
company till they came to a hermit's cave in a poplar grove some
miles away. Then Lancelot could keep his saddle no longer, and
slid to the earth, crying to Lavaine, " Draw out the lance h. ..' '

Lavaine obeyed, though with sore misgiving, fearing ti.
lord might die in the drawing of it; and Lancelot gave a great
shriek and a ghastly groan and fainted dead away. The hermit
heard the cry of suffering and came hurrying forth, and it chanced
that he was once a knight and knew Lancelot well; so he caught

■III

114 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

him up and bore him in, and tended him with great skill. But
for many weary weeks Lancelot lay hidden from tl world by the
tall poplars and the ever-tremulous aspen trees, and Lavame and
the good hermit waited upon him faithfully, being m daily doubt
as to whether he would live or die.

Now on that day when Lancelot and his young friend led the
lists, there was great wonder and pity among the people assembled.
And the knights whom he had led so victoriously went to the great
Kin<T saying: " Sire, our knight, through whom we won the day,
hath gone away sorely wounded, and hath left his prize untaken,
crying that his prize is death."

" Heaven hinder that so great a knight as we have seen to-day
should pass uncared for," said the King. " He is a mighty war-
rior. Indeed, he seemed to me another Lancelot! Yea, twenty
times I thought he was Lancelot, and I am yet in doubt."

And the King pondered for a moment, becoming more and more
convinced that the disguised knight was Lancelot, in spite of every
proof to the contrary. So he called Gawain, his nephew, son of
Lot and Bellicent and brother to Gareth, and bade him take the
diamond and ride forth at once, day and night, until he found the
knight who had so dearly won it, and give it to him, charging
Gawain also to return speedily to the Court bringing news as to
the stranger's identity and how he fared.

Now Gawain was mighty and grave, and known among his com-
rades as " Gawain, the Courteous," because of his courtly man-
ners- but he did not reverence his word as the King would have
all men do, and often carried a treacherous heart. He accepted
the quest with a smiling face but fared forth in wrath; for the
feasting and merry-making were yet to come, and he oved the
banquet and the company of the ladies better than he loved the
service of the King. However, seeing that the knight was so
sorely wounded, he hoped to find him in the nearby community, and
so rode at a gallop, searching all the countryside, and stopping
everywhere save at the neatly hidden hermit's cave. .\t length.

THE LILY AL-VID OF ASTOLA'I'

as he traveled in an ev .iden'mg circle, he came to the gates of
Astolat, and Elaine hailed him joyfully:

"Ho, Sir Knight! What news from Camelot? What of the
knight of the red sleeve?"

" He won," answered Gawain, half forgetting his courtly man-
ners In his wonderment at the maiden's radiant beauty, " but he
parted from the jousts hurt in the side."

Whereat P]laine caught her breaih, and smote her hand on her
own side as though she felt the lance wound therein, and well-
nigh fainted. Then came the Lord of Astolat, and to him Gawain
told his quest, and how he had searched the countryside at random,
anu was wearied of it all.

"Ayel" cried the hospitable lord warmly. "Ride no more
at random, noble Prince! Abide with us; here was the knight, and
here he left a shield, which he will surely send or come for.
Furthermore, our son is with him, and we shall surely have news
soon."

And Gawain, carelessly forgetful of the King's command, and
more than willing to tarry for a time in a home containing so per-
fect a maiden, consented with an exaggeration even of his usual
courtesy, saying to himself: " '^ell, if I bide, lo ! this wild flower
for me! " So for many days he tarried, and set himself to play
upon her with free flashes of courfly wit, songs, sighs, slow smiles,
and golden eloquence. But the fair, llly-mald, Elaine, had no
heart for his mock courtship, and soon grew very weary of him.

"O Prince!" she cried. "Loyal nephew of our noble King,
why ask you not to see the shield which the knight left, and in this
wise learn his name? W^hy do you slight your King and lose the
quest he sent you on? Why be no surer than our falcon, who,
yesterday when we slipped him at the horn, lost It and we.nt to all
the winds? "

" By my head," answered Gawain, " I lose It, as wc lose the
lark in heaven, O damsel, In the light of your blue eyes! But,
if you will, let me see the shield."

u6 THE STORY OF IDYLLL OF THE KING

And when tw the azure lions, crowned with goKl, he smote

his thigh, a,,, crad mockingly: "Right was the Kmg! Our
Lancelot! that true man! "

" And right was I." answered the lily-maid merrily, not noticing
his insincerity, " I, who dre.med my knight the great, st kmght of

all"

■" .\nd is Lancelot your knight?" queried Sir Gawain, still m
a mocking tone. " Have I, then, wasted my time? Do you love

him, fair maiden?"

" I know not," answered Elaine simply. " Perhaps I know not
vhat love is, for my brothers arc the only young men I have
known; but if I love not him, there is no other man that I can ever

love." ,^ , u-

" Yea by God's death," said Gawain, " I see you love him
well, but doubt such if you would love him still if you knew what
others know, or her whom they say he loves. But stay! One
golden minute's grace ! He wore your favor at the tourney. Can
he have changed his worship? It well may be. 'Tis like our /r.e
man to change like a leaf at last! 'Tis no concern of mine Far
be it from me to cross our mighty Lancelot in his love! And so,
fair lily-maid, if, as I doubt not, you know his ;..ding-place,_suffer
me to leave the diamond with you. Here! If you love it will
be sweet to give it; and, if he love. It will be sweet to have it
from your hand; and whether he love or not, a diamond « a
diamond Fare you well a thousand times! A thousand times
farewell! Yet, if he love, and his love holds true, we two may
meet at Court hereafter." , , „ ,

.\nd so Gawain called for his horse and departed at full speed,
caroling lightly as he went, well-pleased to be rid of the unwelcome

''"it the meantime. King Arthur had cut short the festivities at
the jousts and returned home, filled with misgivings over the fate
of his friend. If it were Lancelot, and minded to find out for a

THE LILY MAID OF ASIOLAT

117

certainty. Almost the first question he asked of the Queen was,
"Where is Lancelot?"

"Was he not with you?" cried the Queen in amazement.
" Did he not win the prize? "

"Nay," answered Arthur, "but ore like him,— a great md
mighty knight, even greater than Lancelot."

"Ah, but that was he!" exclaimed the Queen eagerly. "No
sooner had you parted from us, my King, than Lancelot told me
ot a common talk that men went down before his spear at a touch
knowing he was Lancelot; he said that his great name conquered,
and therefore would he hide his name from all men, even the King,
and to this end he made the pretext of a hindering wound, that
he might joust unknown of all, and learn if his old prowess were
in aught decayed, saying also, ' Our true, Arthur, when he learns,
will well allow my pretext, as a gain of purer glory.' "

" Aye! " replied the King sorrowfully, "but far lovelier in our
Lancelot had it been, in lieu of idly dallying with the truth, to have
trusted me as he hath trusted thee. Surely his King and most
familiar friend might well have kept his secret. Tru>% indeed,
albeit I know my knights are fantastical, so fine a ftar In our Lance-
lot must needs have moved me to laughter; but now little cause
remains for laughter.— Ill news, my Queen, for all who love him
— for his own kin knew him not and set upon him, and he left the
field, no one knows whither, most sorely wounded. Only one item
of it all cheers me, and that is the hope that Lancelot no longer
bears a lonely heart; for, against his usual custom — and a thing
that deceived us all — he wore upon his helm a beautiful scarle*-
sleeve, richly broidered with pearls. The gift of some gentle
maiden, I doubt not; and God grant he be with her now! "

"Yea, Lord," murmured Queen Guineveie, "thy hopes are
mme," and could say no more, but turned sharply about and fled
to her chamber, lest the King detect the sobs that threatened to
choke her. Here she wrestled with her grief, well-nigh distraught

1 1

B THE srORY Ob

F IDYLLS OF THE KING

the thought that Lancelot had ceasci

i to love her and turnci

over inc uiuugm. m"'- *-"■--- ,

to another. At length pride came to her a,d, and she rose and
moved about the palace, pale and cold.

Days passed and still no message came from Lancelot, and the
good King grew very uneasy and was exceeding wroth with the
knight wh'om' he had sent in search of him ll^en came Gawam
lighnhearted and courteous still, with a tale all fi: "d to s-.t the

occasion. , , , ~, . ,^i t

"Sir and mv liege, the knight ^as Lancelot T^i.s much 1
learned certainly, but I failed to find him, though 1 rode the whole
country over. But 1 lighted on the maid whose skeve he wore.
She is the beautiful daughter of the Lord of Asto at, and known
in all the country thereabouts as ' Elaine, the f.ur, Elame, the good
Elaine, the lily-maid of Astolat.' Lovelier than the damfest,
purest lily In all the world is this lily-maid, and her love is given
to lancelot. And 1. thinking our courtesy the truest law, gave
the diamond -nto her keeping, charging her to deliver .t at once
to Lancelot; for by my head, sh. knows where our kn.ght .s m

*"t,t'the clever speech failed to pacify Arthur, and he turned
f rowningly upon the over-confuient Gawain : "Too courteous >^u
are, truly! You shall go no more on quest of mine, seeing that
you' forget obedience is the courtesy due to kings." .

' So sating, the King turned shortly on his heel and left Ga.^.n
staring after him in silent anger. Then a vindictive light flashed
into his cold gray eyes, and he glanced triumphantly to where the
Queen leaned against a pillar, stricken to the heart with the news
he had given; then tossed back his hair defiantly, and strode into
the palace, there to buzz about stories of the l.ly-maid of Astolat

"W all' through the palace flashed the whisper :" Lancelot
loves the lily-maid of Astolat, and the lily-maid loves h.m. And
many there were who marveled over it, and took great delight
in probing the Queen, who hid her suffering as best she might.

THE LILV MAID OF ASIOLAT

119

Like fire in dry stubble the story flared, and each day some fresh
item was added by the gossips; till the knights at the banquet for-
got to drink to Lancelot and the Queen, according to custom,
but pledged instead Lancelot and the lily-maid of Astolat, and
smiled at each other as they did so; while the Queen listened to it
all perforce, and smiled with cold, set lips, albeit she ground her
feet deep Into the velvet beneath the banquet board, while the meats
became as wormwood to her, and she hated all who pledged.

Meantime, far away, the maid of Astolat, her guiltless rival,
kept the memory of Lancelot green within her heart, and watched
for him longingly day by day, but he did not come. Finally, heart-
sick with waiting, :he crept to her father's side and begged him to
allow her to go in search of Lavaine. But her father guessed
her secret; so she confessed at once that it was to find Lancelot, and
give into his hand the diamond, that she wished to go. " For,"
said she, " in my dreams I have seen him lying pale and gaunt
with wasting sickness, all for the lack of the care that I might give

11m.

Fain would the old man have detained her at home, saying that
they would surely have news soon; but she had ever been a petted,
wilful child, and now he could not say her nay. So, perforce,
he gave his consent, and she set out at once under the escort of
her good brother. Sir Torre. They traveled for many weary miles
over the downs toward Camelot, and at last came unexpectedly
upon Lavaine, practising at arms upon his horse.

"Lavaine!" cried Elaine breathlessly. "Lavaine, how fares
my lord, Sir Lancelot? "

" Torre and Elaine ! " ejaculated the youth, in open-mouthed
amazement. "Why are ye here? Sir Lancelot! How know
ye my lord's name is Lancelot?"

Elaine began eagerly to tell him of Gawain and his quest; but,
before she was half through. Sir Torre, being vexed with her for
coming forth, interrupted with a brief farewell, saving that Elaine
could stay with Lavaine if she were so minded, but as for him-

T20 THI-: STORY or IDYLLS OF THE KING

self he would get within the ,:Uc. of their kinsman who dwelt
beyond the citv. for rest and shelter. And so the l.ly-ma.d went
alone with Lavaine across he poplar grove .o the cave of the
hernut, and the t.rst thing which she beheld was ^he remnant of her
scarlet sleeve still hound upon the helmet, and it made her hear
reioice Half timidly she advanced into the inner room, and
there saw the great Lancelot, gaunt and pain-wasted, scarcely more
than the bare skeleton of his mighty self, lying upon a low couch
of wolf skins, and a faint cry of pity escaped her.

Gently she slipped to her knees beside him, and, when he turned
bis fever-kindU-d eyes upon her, she held up the gen. saymg
falteringly: " Your prize, the diamond sent you by the Kw.g.

Then in a broken voice, she told him of all the events wh.ch
had followed his disappearance from the lists, and ended by giv-
ing the diamond into his hand. Her beauti ul, P-n-g /a" wa
very close to him. and Lancelot turned and kissed her l.ghtly, as
one would kiss a child who had performed some sweet service,
then he passed into dreamless .leep. _ _

Through many a weary day and many a weaner mght the 1 . y-
,.aid watched over King Arthur's mightiest kmght, tending h.rn
^vith never failing love and care, though his fevering wound often
nnade him cross and impatient; until one day the wise hermit,
TkHled in herbs and potions and the woes of -- -'^ ^^J^ ^"J;
fully that her tender care had saved his life. And dur -.g all th^
LI Lancelot watched Elaine and called her sister, an. saw with
soTrow the secret love that burned within her heart. Often he
eproached himself bitterly that he could repay her love and kind-
ness only with a brother's love, and felt that had he met her earlier
L life before that other fatal bond had made him prisoner, per-
ha e' si e m ght have made another world for him. But now it
o d n t be-,l was too late to change,- the shackles of is old
W straitened him, his honor rooted in dishonor stood, and
h lunfa^hfu' love for Gu.ieverc needs must keep him falsely true
t her Wame, made wise by love, felt that he could not love her

THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT tii

in return, and, over and over to herself, like a little helpless, in-
nocent bird, she moaned plaintively, " If he will not love mc, then
1 must die."

As soon as Lancelot was able to sit in the saddle, Elaine and
Lavainc guided him tenderly to Astolat, and there he lingered in
the comfort of the princi-ly castle until his wound was made whole,
and his strength regained. And each morning Elaine appeared
before him in her loveliest robes, hoping thus to awaken his love,
and saying to herself: " If I be loved, these arc my festal robes.
If not, these are the victim's flowers before he falls."

At last the time came when Lancelot felt it were unwise to
tarry longer, and prepared to go back to the King's service. But
before going he was anxious to give Elaine some present, or grant
her some boon, in token of his grateful appreciation of her care
for him. To this end, he besought her to tell him what she most
wished for, but Elaine put him off, not liking to tell him of the
one deep wish, and that only, that filled her heart. Finally, he
came to her one day, as she roamed idly in the rose garden, and
begged her to ask a boon, saying: "Speak your wish, sweet
Elaine, for I go away to-day."

Then all Elaine's fears rose up in her throat, the garden swam
before her, and she faltered out: "Going? And shall I never
see you more? Must I die for want of one bold word? Nay, I
shall say it: I love you. I have gone mad, methinks."

" Ah, sister," answered Sir Lancelot sorrowfully, " what is
this?"

"Your love." she said, innocently extending her white arms;
"your love — to be your wife."

" But, think you not, sweet Elaine, that had I chosen to wed,
I would have been wedded earlier? Now there never will be wife
of mine."

" Oh," wailed Elaine, deaf to all thought but that the parting
had come, and that she who had loved him back from death to
life could never win from him a dearer name than sister, " not to

,,^ THE STORY Ol' IDYLLS OF THE KING

he with you. not to sec your face - alas, for n. then, my «ood

'^^^D::;';::i;ien.- s..^ l....V. camestW, seekm, to le,.n her
hear h," this s only ^ f-t fancy, a Hash of youth such as .
cm no all. and not true love. You will snule at .t yoursel

heTeafter when you are mate.l with one of your own years not
hcreatter, > ^^^^ ^^j ^^^.t bc-

fw ce vour aee. And then win i, loi > " ... u »w<.,

::, a''La„celo,s Ic.uJ call carH.d her away to her chan.ber .n
* NrU so happened .ha, .he 1-ord of As.ola., dreaming in the

lot If so be vou could use some roughness, ere you go, to blunt
or break her passion, all might yet be well."

'That is a hard thing for me to do, my lord," repl.ed Lance-
lot ^s i g that 1 owe my life to her, and that I love her as I
lot. scemg tnai j ^^^^^ j ^^^^ ^^^^^

mij^ht were she my own dear sister, out

^'"" ''''' "■" , nmc T ancelot sent for his shield; and Elaine

«;<-> towards even ng, Lanceun stm. ^^

THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT

123

This was the only discourtesy which he could bring himself
to use.

Now a great sorrow spread itself over Astolat -nd slowly sct-
tlcii down. Ihe lily-maid who had been the light and joy of the
place sorrowed and drooped in her chamber high to the east, like
a pale ghost. No more did her liglu footstep skim through the
house and garden; no more did her gay laughter bring smiles to the
faces of father and brothers, and nothing that their love could
devise seemed to cheer her. All day long she sat before the empty
shield-case, with the voice of Lancelot in her heart and his picture
obscuring her vision, mourning and praying that Death would ease
her pain. Then one day the words of a little song came to her,
and she wrote them down, calling it " The Song of Love and
Death":

" Swff t Is true love tho' given in vain, in vain ;
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain :
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

" Love, art tl.ou sweet? then bitter death must be:
Love, art thou bitter; sweet is death to me.
Oh, Love, if death be sweeter, let me die.

" Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away ;
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clav,
I know not which is sweeter, no, not L

" I fain would follow love, if that could be ;
I needs must follow death, who calls for me;
Call and I follow, I follow! let me die! "

Her voice rang through the castle like a wild cry, and her
brothers, shuddering, whispered hoarsely, " Hark, the phantom of
the house that shrieks before death! Alas, our sweet sister!"
This was in accordance with a superstition of the times, for in
those days every one believed that the Death Spirit gave warning

,,4 inK STORY OF IDYLLS OK THE KINO

before he entered a home. The Uthcr a.,.1 brothers, therefore,
hastened «ith all speed to Ihunc's room, but found that the shadow
of Death had outnripped them and already lurked over the sweet
face of their lily-maid, and not one ot them could speak

For a moment I'laine watched them, smdin^; sweetly, then gave
a pule little hand to each of her brothers: " Sweet brothers she
asked " do you remember how you used to take me. when was
a little child, up the i.ver in the ^reat boatmen's ba-^e; and how
you would never go beyond the cape that has the jvoplar on .t
thouKh I cried to go on and find the palace of the Kmg? Las
niizht I dreamed that I was out alone upon the swollen river, and
mv childish wish to find the palace still stirred in .ny heart, and
now that I am awake the wish still remams, and I pray thee
Father, let me go up to the great Court of Arthur and there imd

'''"' Peace, child 1 " answered the father, "von have riot the
strength to go so far al-e. And wherefore would you look on
this proud fellow again, who scorns us all?" ^

" Oh " cried Torre, breaking into stormy sobs, 1 never loveU
the man, and if I can but meet him, I care not how great he be,
1 shall surely strike him dead, for great grief hath he wrought m

this house." .... • j ^i

" Fret not yourself, dear brother," pleaded the l.ly-ma.d gently,
" nor be angry, seeing it is no more ^^r Lancelot's fault not to
love me, than it is mine to love him of all men who seems to me the

^'^" Highest?" queried her father scornfully, meaning to break
her love if he could. " Daughter, I know not what you cal the
highest, but this I do know, for it is talked among all, he loves
the queen in open shame, and she returns his love; if this be high,

what is it to be low?" ^

"O Father," answered the lily-maid faintly. Ihesc are
slanders. Never yet was man so noble, but some made ignoble
talk He makes no friend who never made a foe. It is my glory

THE LILY MAID OL ASTOLAT

125

to have loved one peerless, without stain; so let me die, my Father,
and I ai.i not all unhappy, even though I have loved (ioij's hest
and greatest knight without love in return. I hank you, I'athcr,
for wishinf? me to live, but you are workinp; against your own de-
sire; for, if I could believe the thin^-. you say, 1 should but die
chc sooner. Cease, l'"athe-, and call the priest that he may slirivc
me of my sins."

So the holy man was summoned and ministered to her spirit,
ami departed, leavrng her bright and happy. Then she turned
ea(;rerly to Lavaine, her youngest and dearest, and besought him
to write a letter for her.

"Is it for Lancelot?" queried the boy-knight. "If it is for
my dear lord, then will 1 bear it to him gladly."

" Nay, dear brother," answered Llaine softly, " 'tis for Lance-
lot and the Queen and all the world beside, and I myself must
bear i ."

In unbroken silence the letter was written according to her dicta-
tion. Then Flaine turned pleadingly to her father: "O good
Father, tender and true, you who have always given me my will,
deny not now my last request I When the breath is gone from
out my body, wrap me in my richest, fairest raiment, and deck
my little bed with coverings as dainty and beautiful as the Queen's
own; then bear me on it to the old black barge, and drape it like
a funeral pall, and let our old dumb servant row le to the Court
of Arthur. But ere I die, place the letter in my uand that I may
bear it with me. And let us go alone; for none of you could speak
for me so eloquently as mine own silent self. Shall it be so,
Father? Promise! O Father, promise me."

And the father who had never denied even her simplest request
in life could not deny her in death, so promised with bitter sobs.
And then Flaine grew so bright and happy that the shadow seemed
to lift from her face, and her household whispered one to another
that mayhap Death had stayed his hand, and that perhaps 'twas
more in imagination than in the blood. But on the eleventh morn-

126 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

inir she asked her father for the letter, and, with a weet low-
murmured farewell to all, she died.

Grief reigned supreme in Astolat, and the whole house mourned
uncomforted, but all was done as the dear lily-maid desired. Her
brothers bore her gently to the black-samite draped barge, and laid
her tenderly in a cloth of gold that wrapped her to her waist.
Purest white was her shroud, and her beautiful, unbound hair
framed her face and floated o'er her breast and pillow in purest
gold. In one hand she bore the letter, and In the other Lavaine
placed ■> beautiful, white lily, fitting emblem of the lily-maid.
Above her head they hung the silk-embroidered cover she had
wrought for Lancelot's shield, and they bent over her for the last

farewell.

" Look, Torre," cr^ed Lavaine brokenly, " she smiles as though
her sleep were sweet! One scarce would call her dead, but sleep-
ing. Oh, Elaine, sweet lily-maid of Astolat, farewell! Farewell,
my sister dear! Sweet be thy rest! "

And so the brothers turned stumblingly away, blinded by their
tears; and the dead, rowed by the dumb, passed up the river to-
ward the great King's palace at Camelot.

Now it chanced that on that very day Sir Lancelot craved an
audience of the Queen to present to her the diamonds won in the
nine years' jousts. Coldly, like a marble statue of herself, the
Queen received him in a vine-clad oriel on the river side of the

palace. ^^

" O Queen! " cried Lancelot, kneeling at her feet, ' my Queen,
I bring you fitting tribute of your beauty. Grant my worship,
dear ladv, and make me happy by accepting these jewels. I had
not won but for you. Priceless are they, and yet scarce fit to match
your loveliness! I pray you to twine them into an armlet for the
roundest arm on earth, or make them into a necklace for a neck
which shames the graceful swan! And, dear lady, rumors have
I heard flying through the Court which I trust you have no. given
ear to. Our bond, not being the bond of man and wife, should

THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT 127

have in It a firmer trust. Let rumors be. When did not rumors
fly? I trust that you believe me in your own nobleness."

As he spoke, the Queen half turned away and plucked from
the vine-embowered window leaf after leaf, and threw them, all
torn and crumpled, upon the floor, till the place was strewn with
green. Then, accepted the diamonds with a cold passive hand,
and laid them upon the table, ere she burst forth angrily, filled
with her own fancied wrongs:

" It may be I am quicker of belief than you believe me, Lance-
lot of the Lake. Our bond is not the bond of man and wife, and
is then easier broken — this much hath it of good. For many
years I have for your sake done wrong to one whom in my heart
of hearts I ever acknowledged the nobler. And now, diamonds
for met To loyal hearts the value of all gifts must vary as the
giver's. I want them not! Give them to her, your new fancy!
I pray you add my diamonds to her pearls! Deck her in this
splendor; tell her she shines me down: an armlet for an arm to
which the Queen's is haggard, or a necklace for a neck, oh, as
much fairc as faith once tair was richer than these diamonds I
Nay, by the mother of our Lord himself, she shall not have them ! "
so saying, the angry Queen, beside herself with jealousy, caught
up the diamonds and flung them passionately into the river, then
rushed in frenzy from the room.

Lancelot staggered to the window ledge and leaned, half-sick
of life and love and a' things of the' world worldly, looking down
upon the water where his jeweled hopes lay buried. And as he
stood there, lo! there came slowly up the funeral-draped barge
bearing the lily-maid of Astolat, and paused beneath his window,
for the gateway of the palace was near at hand. Lancelot was
stricken as dumb as Elaine's poor servitor with amazement and
grief. "My pure lily-maid! Sweet Elaine of Astolat!" cried
his heart reproachfully. " O woe is me! Her fatner judged the
thing aright. Sweet Heaven, that such must be! Would to God,
Llaine, I had died for thee I "

,28 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

And while Lancelot s.ood motionless, struggling with his deep
emotion, for he had loved the sweet l.ly-maid dearly, though not
as she desired, the guarC of the castle and the peoplc st -d
wonderingly, whispering one to another, "Who an'' -hat s t? .
Then, as the dumb man responded not to the.r quenes, and all h.s
face remained as motionless as though cast in stone some one cned
" He is enchanted. He cannot speak. And she look more beau-
t,ful than the fairest angel is she! She sleeps 1 It .s the Fa.ry

Queen herself 1 " v u,^ i,»pn

Cries of dismay and grief arose on every hand, for .t had been
prophesied that the King would not die, but would one day pa
L fairyland. And many were there who beheved, mdeed, that
this was the fairy barge, come to carry the.r Kmg away

Soon Arthur himself heard the no.se and came, with h,s kn.ghts
to see what it was all about. Then the dumb man uprose m silent
ma esty and pointed first to the dead maiden, then to Arthur and
It tl the castle doors; and the great Kmg understood h.m and
signed to two of his purest knights, Sir Perc.vale and S r Galahad,
to lift the maiden and bear her reverently mto the hall.

All the knights and ladies gathered around, and soon came the
fine Gawain who had bade her a thousand farew^ s, .ymg m
amazement: "The lily-maid! Sweet Elame of Astolatl
Th n Tame Lancelot who had taken no farewell, and stood before
her as voiceless now as when she leaned from the casement gazmg
a h m; and all his heart was lead within him. and the people
Irvel d at his emotion and whispered one to another. Last of
aT came Queen Guinevere, and, when she saw the beautiful, m-
n c "rdead face, her anger melted, and all her heart thnlled with
purest pity. Then King Arthur spied the letter m her hand. and.
stooping, took It gently, broke the seal, and read:

.' Mo t noble lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake, L sometime known

as the Maid of Astolat, am come to bid farewell to thee, smce

hou hast taken no farewell of me. I loved thee and mv love

Lad no eturn, so therefore has it been my death. And so I make

THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT

129

moan to Queen Guinevere and to all the ladies of the Court that
ye pray for my soul and give me burial. And do thou, too, Sir
Lancelot, pray for my soul, as thou art a knight peerless."

And all those who heard the letter wept for pity, and, glancing
at the maiden half-fancied that her lips moved. Many eyes were
turned on Lancelot reprovingly, and, seeing this, he stepped out
before them all and told the lily-maid's story in a trembling voice: —

" My lord Arthur, and all ye that hear, know that I am right
heavy for this gentle maiden's death, for good she was and true,
and nursed me from my wound, and loved me with a love passing
the love of women. God knows I gave her no cause to love me,
and only showed her a brother's love in return, of this her father
and brethren will bear witness. Nay, more, her father begged
me, when I was leaving, to be plain and blunt and break her pas-
sion with some discourtesy. This I disliked to do, for the damsel
had been very kind to me, and I loved her as though she had been
my own dear sister, but, to please her father, I left her without
taking farewell. And now, from the letter, it would seem that
I only wounded her gentle heart in vain."

" Sir Knight," cried the Queen bitterly, her anger still working
like a sea after storm, " it seems to me you might have shown her
so much grace as would have kept her from her death I "

Lancelot looked up quickly, their eyes met, and her own fell:
" Queen," he said slowly, " she would not be content save to be
my wife or my love, and neither of these could be. I told her
that her love was but the flash of youth, and would die to rise
again for some one more suitable to her in age. And also did I
promise that when she had put aside her thought of me and wedded
some youthful love more worthy of her, I would endow them with
wealth and goods from my own estate. More than this I could
not do, and this she would not have, but grieving, died."

" Alas," said King Arthur, sighing heavily, " I can not see that
thou art to blame, albeit, lovely as she is in death, she must have
been radiant enough in life to have awakened love in the heart

I30 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

of the noblest knight. But it is thy duty and mine, as head of the
Round Table, to sec that she be buried worshipfully."

So the King gave orders that a tomb should be opened for Elaine,
among the royal dead in the richest shrine in Camelot, and he him-
self led the funeral train. All the knights followed in martial or-
der, and " with gorgeous obsequies, mass, and rolling music " the
lily-maid's golden head was laid low in the dust, " ashes to ashes,"
among the half-forgotten Kings and royal ladies. And Arthur
commanded: "Let her tomb be grand and costly. Place her
image thereupon, with a carved lily in her hand, and the shield
of Lancelot at her feet, and blazon with gold and azure letters the
story of her voyage hither, that all true hearts may read."

Then the great crowd turned homeward, in such order as pleased
each, and the Queen, marking where Sir Lc .elot stood ^part with
his eyes bent upon the ground, passed near him and murmured
low: " Lancelot, forgive me; mine was jealousy in love."

" Aye," returned Lancelot, without looking up, " that is love's
curse! Pass on, my Queen, forgiven."

And Arthur, the pure King, scing his knight's clouded brow,
came to him and said affectionately: " Lancelot, my Lancelot, my
knight in whom I have the most joy and affection, seeing this home-
less trouble in your eyes, I would to God that thou couldst have
loved this maiden, so fair and pure, fashioned for thee alone it
seems, who might have made for thee a happy home and given
thee loving sons to inherit the name and fame of Lancelot of the

Lake."

" Aye, my lord," answered Lancelot faintly, " fair and pure in-
deed she was, and as lovely in mind as in body, but love cometh
not by force."

"No," sighed the King, "but there is nothing on this side
of Heaven better than true, married love, and that she failed to
win thee to this, true and gentle as thou art, is sore pity."

Lancelot could form no answer, and turned away, wandering
blindly to a friendly cove beside the river. Here he lifted up his

THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT

131

eyes and saw the barge that brought the maid of Astolat moving
afar off, a blot upon the stream. And he murmured low in grief:
" Ah, sweet lily-maid, you loved me surely with a love far tenderer
than my Queen's. Farewell, fair lily, now — at last. Yea, I will
indeed pray ever for thy soul, as thou didst desire me. Queen,
may not your growing fear for name and fame tell truly of a love
that wanes? And why did the King dwell on my name to me?
Mine own name shames me, seeming a reproach. Lancelot of the
Lake! Indeed, 'twere better if the Lady of the Lake had drowned
mc in the mere from which they say I sprung. Alas, for Arthur's
greatest knight — a man not after Arthur's heart! Of what
worth is my greatness or my name if only it makes men worse, and
my example leads them to sin? I will break these sundering bonds
of shame 1 But can I if she wills it not? Mayhap, fair lily, thou
hast not died in vain I Beseech God, if I do not change, to send
his angel down to seize mc by the hair and bear me far, and fling
me deep into that forgotten mere which lies among the tumbled
fragments of the hills."

And so Lancelot mourned and wrestled with his troubled spirit
throughout all the long night, not knowing be should die a holy
man.

CHAPTER IX

THE SEARCH FOR THE HOLY GRAIL

THE search for the Holy Grail was the most wonderful
quest in all the history of Arthur. And it began in this
wise :

The gentle sister of Sir Percivale, known among the knight-
hood as " Percivale the Pure," being disappointed In love, fled
for peace to a convent and devoted herself to a life of prayer and
praise, fasting and almsgiving. Here she learned from her Con-
fessor, an aged man whose hair was whitened by an hundred win-
ters, a legend concerning the time of our Lord, which had been
handed down through five or six generations.

When our Lord Christ hung upon the cross, there came one
of his loving followers, Joseph of Arimathsa, and caught in a
cup the blood which fell from the Master's wounded side. And
this cup, WaS called the " Holy Grail," and was the same from
which our Lord had drunk at the Last Supper with his disciples.
Now, In the dark days of persecution that followed, Joseph was
obliged to flee from the Holy Land, and took refuge in the island
of Britain, where Aviragus, the heathen prince, gave him a home
in the town of Glastonbury. Here Joseph wished to found a
church of the true faith, and desired from God a sign from Heaven
as to the fitness of the place. So, aft^r much fasting and prayer,
he planted his hard pilgrim staff in the ground one Christmas eve,
and the next morning, lo ! a wonderful miracle had happened.
The staff had taken root and was crowned with leaves and flowers,
and Joseph took it as a symbol that the faith of Christ would thrive
and blossom in that heathen land. And the staff grew into a beau-
tiful thorn tree, and ever since that time the winter thorn has blos-
somed at Christmas in memory of our Lord.

132

THE SEARCH FOR THE HOLY GRAIL 133

The Holy Grail remained in the possession of Joseph for many
years, and was a great blessing to mankind; for whoever was suf-
fering or afflicted in any way had but to touch it, or look at it,
and their troubles fled. But the times grew so evil that so pure a
thing could not remain in the sin-afflicted world, and it was caught
up to Heaven. But when Joseph of Arimathsa had been sleeping
under the Glastonbury thorn for about four hundred years, and
the reign of Arthur, " the blameless white king," was come, pious
people everywhere began to hope that the Grail might again be
returned to earth to crown and glorify the good works of their
noble king. Percivale's sister, the gentle sweet-eyed nun, spent
all her days in fasting and in prayer that the Grail might come
once more. And her great faith and constant prayer was re-
warded thus:

One night as she lay sleeping In her narrow convent cell, she
was awakened by a sound as of silver horns blowing over the hills
in the far distance. At first she thought it some hunter's horn,
but as the sound came nearer and louder, and sleep cleared from
her brain, she realized that Arthur and his knights would not be
abroad at that hour, and that " naught that we blow with breath
or touch with hands" could make such clear, beautiful music.
Wonderingly she raised herself from her rest, and then a long
silver beam stole into the room, and down the beam floated the
Holy Grail, " rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive," and the
white walls of the room glowed with rosy colors; and when the
Grail had passed, the beam faded away and the rosy quiverings
died away into the night. Then the saintly maiden rose up and
spent the remaining night hours in joyful prayer and thanksgiving,
and, as soon as morning dawned, hurried away to her brother.

" O Percivale! " she eric ;. her eyes shining with beautiful light
and holiness, " the Grail has come! The Holy Thing is here on
earth once morel Rejoice with me, sweet brother, for I have
seen it, truly." Then she told him all about the vision and be-
seeched him, saying: "Brother, fast thou, too, and pray. And

134 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

tell thy brother knights to fast and pray, that so perchance the
vision may be seen by thee and those, and all the world be healed."

And Percivale hastened to spread the good news among men,
and himself and many others fasted and prayed for weeks, ex-
pectant of the wonder that would be.

Now there dwelt in Arthur's halls a beautiful boy-knight of
gentle mien, who moved about always clothed in spotless white,
with a face radiant as an angel's, and he was pure as the driven
snow. Sir Galahad was his name. Brothers and sisters he had
not; neither did any one know who his parents were, but he had
been reared by the nuns at the convent. The story of the Grail
inspired him, and he went to the nun to inquire concerning it. So
pleased was the gentle sister with his purity and innocence, that
she cut from her shining wealth of hair enough to plait a broad,
strong sword-belt, and into this she wove with silver and crimson
threads a strange device of a crimson grail within a silver beam,
and bound it on the vouth, saying: "My knight of Heaven,
whose faith and love is one with mine, round thee I bind my belt.
Go forth, fast and pray, for thou shalt see what I have seen, and
one will crown thee king far away in the spiritual city."

At the great Round Table in the hall at Camclot there was
one vacant seat, which Merlin, the great wizard, had built. It
was fashioned with strange inscriptions and devices, and was called
" The Siege Perilous." No one dared occupy it, because, accord-
ing to Merlin, none but the pure could sit therein safely. And
the strength of the warning had been fully proven: at different
times daring ones who deemed themselves above reproach, so
rumor whispered, had attempted it, and been swallowed up for-
evermore.

Now it chanced one evening that, as the knights sat around
the table, Sir Galahad announced his intention of occupying the
seat called the Siege Perilous. And the knights cried out in alarm
and warning, but Galahad only laughed at their fears, saying,
" If I lose myself, I save myself," and straightway sat down.

THE SEARCH FOR THE HOLY GRAIL 135

Then all the knights gasped and looked to see some dreadful
thing befall him, but to their amazement no judgment was meted
out. Instead, a great miracle was worked in their midst. All at
once there came a dreadful sound as though the roof were crack-
ing and rending over their heads. A fearful blast of mighty wind
swept down upon the castle, and terr hie thunders pealed aloft;
and mingled with the sound of thunder was a strange cry, such
as man had never heard before. Then there burst into the room
a beam of light, seven times more clear than day, and down that
long, clear beam stole the Holy Grail, all enshrouded in a luminous
cloud, and none could see who bore it. As it passed, the knights
were stricken dumb, and each one arose and beheld his fellow's
face as in a glory, and no one spoke until the light had vanished
and the thunders ceased.

Then Sir Percivale found his voice and cried out, vowing that,
because he had not seen the Grail plainly, he would ride in quest of
it and see it without the veil, if it took a twelvemonth and a day.
And many other knights also took the vow, among them being
Galahad and Lancelot, and his cousin Sir Bors, and Gawain, the
Courteous, who shouted louder than all the rest.

Now it chanced that King Arthur was not in the hall when the
vision appeared, having ridden forth with some of his knights
early in the day to storm the fastness of a horde of robbers who
were working much damage along the borders. But from afar
he heard the terrible thunder and saw the smoke rolling up from
the roofs of Camelot, and cried out in alarm lest they had been
smitten by lightning, and the wonderful work wrought by Merlin
should vanish in unremorseful folds of rolling fire. With all speed
he spurred toward home and entered with his smoked, grimy,
blood-stained followers into the vision-swept room, and stood In
wonder at the knights, all in a tumult, some vowing, some pro-
testing.

" Percivale ! Percivale ! " .he cried, half in amaze, half in anger,
to the knight nearest him, " what means this unseemly confusion? "

136 THE STORY OF IDYLl ^ OF THE KING

Anil I'crcivale told him what liaJ taken place, and how the
knights had vowed their vows to see the (Irail uncovered. Then
the King's face grew dark indeed, and he cried in anguish:
"Woe is me, my knights! Had I been here, ye had no sworn
this vow."

" Aye! " cried Sir Percivale boldly, unlike his usual meek, quiet
self, " if thou hadst been here thyself, my King, thou, too, wouldst
have sworn! "

"How now!" exclaimed Arthur sternly. "Art thou so bold
and hast not seen the Grail?"

" Nay, Lord," answered Percivale, " I heard the sound, I saw
the light, but since I beheld only the shadow of the Holy Thing,
I swore a vow to follow it until I saw."

The King then asked various members of the Order If they had
seen the Grail, but all answered as one: " Nay, Lord, and there-
fore have we sworn our vows."

" Lo, now," queried Arthur bitterly, "have ye seen a cloud?
What go ye into the wilderness to see? "

Then on a sudden the voice of Galahad came clear and sweet
from the lower end of the hall : " O King, I not only saw the
wondrous Grail, but heard a voice saying, 'O Galahad! O Gal-
ahad, follow me! ' "

" Ah, Galahad, Galahad," said the King, " for such as thou
is the vision; not for these other of my knights. No doubt your
pure self and the saintly maiden have seen Christ's holy symbol.
But," turning to the others, " ye are not Galahads, no, nor Per-
civales, not men of holiness and stainless life, but rather war-
riors, good and true, with strength to right the wrong, beat down
violence and lawlessness, and drive the heathen from our land.
But now ye wish to foUov/ like sheep the leader's bell; one hath
seen the vision and all the rest, blind though ye be, think ye will
see it, too. Well, so be it! Since your vows are made, they are
sacred, and ye must go. However, I know fuU well that many
will return no more, but lose their lives in following wandering

THE SEARCH FOR THE HOEY GRAH. 137

fires! Our gootl hall will rin^ with calls for knightly quests and
noble deeds, ami who will respond, think you? O rue! that the
flower of my realm should thus turn their backs upon duty and
court ruin! Vc think I am a gloomy prophet; wc shall see. But,
my knights, ere wc part, and the fair Order of the Round Table
which 1 made, be scattered, let us meet once more in a jo\ous
tournament to-morrow, that I may count your ranks for the last
time unbroken."

Accordingly, the next day the great joust was held, and never
was such a tourney heKI before at Camelot. All the knights
jousted well and nobly, and (Jalahad and Percivale. being tilled
with holy power, won tumultuous shouts from the people for their
surprising quickness and skill. Hut not a knight thought of for-
saking his vow, and toward evening one and all began making
silent preparations to depart on the morrow. Then the veil of
sorrow which had all day been hovering over Camelot, casting
shadows on the merriment, fell and muffled all in gloom.

Early In the morning the knights passed from Camelot to engage
in the Great Quest, and all the windows and long galleries and
balconies and even the house-tops were filled with people, who
rained flowers upon them and cheered and cried, "God-speed!"
as they passed. But in the King's household there was great grief,
and the noble King could scarcely control his voice to speak fare-
well. The Court ladles wfpt and wailed and accompanied their
knights to the gateway, and Queen Guinevere, who rode by Lance-
lot's side, shrieked aloud in agony, crying: ".Mas, this madness
has come upon us for our sins! "

At the mystic gateway, v, 'lere the three queens stood on guard,
the company broke up, and each knight went his own way, while
Arthur and his sorrowing household returned to the deserted halls
of Camelot. And for a time the blameless, whole-souled King
shut himself up, and mourned in exceeding grief and bitterness
over what he felt to be the beginning of the end of the noble
kingdom which he had wrested from wild beasts and heathen

'.^H

I 111-; SIORY OF IDYLLS OK THE KL\0

liordcs. I lien he roused hlnisclt and sought to find new kniKhtJ
to take the places of his dearest and hcst, who rode at random,
meeting', for the most part, with nau^jht but distress and failure;
and ever misfortune, sorrow, anil treason crept nearer to him who
had stru^^led so ha)-d to revive in man the inuKC of his Maker.
Now, we may not follow separately the many knights who went
out in the mad quest for the Grail, so we will content ourselves
with setting down the tale as told by I'ercivale, the Pure, to hi*
fellow-monk, Ambrosius, in an abbey, where he seJuded him-
self from the pomp and vanities of the world on his return from
a partially successful search.

" When I left my fallows I was lifted up in heart," said Per-
civale, " and never yet had Heaven appeared so blue, or earth so
gre' 1, and ?\\ my blood danced within me, and I knew that I
should see the Holy Gr.il. But after a time my mind misgave
me. and every evil thought and deed of times gone by seemed to
ri.c up in judgment against mc and repeat Arthur's words: ' This
Quest is not for thee.'

" Soon I found myself alone in a land of sand and thorns, and
I was sore athirst. All about me the air was filled with mocking
visions: first, I seemed to see a stream of water, clear and cool,
and goodly apples on trees hard by; but when I drew nigh hop-
ing to eat and drink, all fell into dust and vanished. ^ Then, as I
rode on. home-like visions came to me, only to fall into dust as
I approached. And presently a great warrior in golden armor,
with a golden crown, riding on a war-horse also trapped in gold
and jewels, came out to me.;t me and embrace me in his arms;
but as I drew nigh unto him, he, too, fell into dust and vanished,
and I was left alone and weary. Again I saw a city set high upon
a hill, and by the walled gateway was a great crowd, and they
cried as in one mighty voice, ' Welcome, Percivalc, thou might-
iest and purest of men!' Eagerly I climbed up, but found at
the top no man or voice that answered mc; only the crumbling
ruin of a deserted city. And I cried in grief: ' Lo, if I f^nd

THE StARCH FOR THK HOLY CJRAIL ij.,

the Holy Grail itself arul tDUch it, it, Uk), will crumble into dust.'
"'I hen I dropped into a vale, low as the hill was hi{{h, and
here found a holy hermit to whom I described my 'Mantoms, and
he made answer: ' (), son, thou lackest the hi^jhcst virtue, the
mother of them all — true humility. Thou hast been full of pride
and thoughts of self and thine own advancement. Thou • jst
needs have the mind which was in Christ Jesus, who humbled li .m-
sclf that all should follow His example. Thou must, like th ;
smlcss Galahad, lose thyself to save thyself.'

"Scarcely had he finished speaking when lo! Galahrd himself
appeared in the chapel doorway, ?1! shining in golden armor, and
we entered the holy plac. .nd knelt in prayer. Here the hermit
slacked my terrible thirst, and then blessed the sacrament and of-
fered it to us. I took the bread in silence, but Galahad turned
to me in amazement, albeit his face shown with a wonderful
radiance. 'Saw ye nothing, Percivale?' he queried. 'I, Gala-
had, saw the Grail, the Holy Grail, descend upon the shrine! I
saw the face of a chi!>i that smote itself into th-; bread .nd went;
and not now alone, but always is the Holy Thing with me day
and night. And by its blood- red strength I have conqurred the
heathen everywhere, and broken their evil ways, and made ♦■heir
realms mine for the King and Christ. But my time is haid at
hand when I shall go hence and be crowned King jfar in the
spiritual city; wherefore arise and follow me, for thou, too, shalt
see the vision when I go,'

" His great faith filled me with power, and toward evening
I followed him with difficulty up a great, tempest-swept hill. Be-
yond it lay an evil-smelling, blackened swamp, whitened here and
there with dead men's bones, and impassable save where in ancient
times a king had built a causeway of piers and arches running out
into the great Sea. Over these bridges Galahad sped at once,
and I would fain have followed; but every arch, as soon as he
had crossed it, leapt into fire and vanished, and thrice above him
I heard a thunderous sound like the joyous "shoutings of all the

140 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

sons of God. Ana then 1 saw him far away on the great Sea,
his armor shining like a star, and over his head hung the Holy Grail,
veiled in a luminous cloud. And the boat, if boat it were — I saw
not whence it came — sped with exceeding swiftness; and presently
from the heavens shot a glorious light and I beht'.d the Holy
Vessel, shining rose-red, clear and pure, over his head, and I gave
a shout of joy for I knew the veil had been withdrawn. Then
in the distance I saw the spires and gateways of the spiritual city,
and beheld Galahad move into it like a shooting-star. And then
the darkness fell, and I saw no more. How I reiurned to the
hermitage I know not, but from thence I rode back to Camelot,
filled with exceeding joy that my quest was over and that phantoms
would never vex me more."

Silence ensued for a time, each one busy with his own thoughts,
until the old monk turned to his companion, with a sigh: " How
uifferent our lives have been ! Yours filled with Court pleasantries,
noble quests, n.ysteries and visions; mine with homely c s among
my fold — f( I know every honest face as a shephera knows his
sheep — days of quiet prayer, and reading of monkish books.
But tell mc this, Percivale, saving this Sir Galahad, came you
on none but phantoms in your quest? "

" O my brother," answered Perci-ale sadly, " must I tell thee
how far I faltered ^rom my vow? As I wandered about, seeking
In vain for the Grail, I chanced upon a goodly town built round
a stately palace, where dwelt a Princess rich and beautiful. I
knocked at the gates and asked for succor in the name of our
noble Arthur. Straightway I was admitted and disarmed by
maidens, h'T as flowers; then conducted into the presence of the
noble Princess. And lol brother, my very breath stopped, for
she was one whom In my youth I had loved with my whole heart,
and never since had maiden stirred my pulse, and now I had found
her again, the heiress of a dead man's wealth. My heart went out
to her again, as of old, and I saw that she loved me, but I made
no sign, for I was poor and she rich. However, as I walked one

THE SEARCH FOR THE HOLY GRAIL 141

day in the orchard, she stole upon me and gave me her first kiss
and aslted if I would wed her. Now, she was very dear to me,
and the Quest seemed far off, yet I hesitated, for Arthur's words
came to me, and I felt that this would be ' following wandering
fires ' indeed. Then, the leading knights of her territory came
to ine and begged me to wed with her and be their Prince, and
how near I was to yielding, God knoweth; but, brother, one night
my vow flared up and burned within me, and I rose and fled from
temptation, yet, as I went, I wept and wailed and hated myself
and the Holy Grail and all things save her, my beautiful Princess,
But soon after this I came to the hermit's hut and met Galahad,
and thereafter cared no more for her, or anything else on earth."
" O, brother, the pity of it! " exclaimed Ambrosius. " To find
thine own first love again, all but hold her a bride within thine
arms, and then to cast her aside like a weed! But I sympathize
with w'^it I know not, for earthly love has never yet come nigh
me. S .d, brother, I am glad that you have come hither, for hope
springs alive in my breast that now, at last, I have found a true
triend. But stay, Percivale, saw you none of your own knight-
hood as you wandered? "

" Yes," answered Percivale, " one night I met Sir Bors, the
cousin of Lancelot, and most joyful was our meeting. Eagerly
we questioned each other concerning the Quest, and among the first
things I asked him was: 'Have you seen aught of Lancelot?'
' Aye,' answered Bors sadly. ' He dashed past me once in the
fever of madness and maddening what he rode. Why ridest
thou so hotly on a holy Quest? ' I shouted. ' Stay me not! ' was
the answer. ' I have played the sluggard, and now I ride apace,
for th'^re is a lion in the way,' and so he vanished, and I am sore
grieved aat Heaven hath plagued him thus. You see, brother,
Bors LvL-d Lancelot faithfully, and said he would be content to
give up the Quest, if by so doing he could help Lancelot to see the
Holy Grail.

*' Then he told me how, in his wanderings, he had fallen Into

142 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE RliNG

the hands of a pagan people, who worshiped the sun, moon, and
stars, and when he told them of the blessed Christ and his Quest,
they mocked him and made him a prisoner. For many days he
lay in a foul, underground dungeon until by a miracle — what
else? — a great, heavy stone, such as no wind could move, slipped
and fell, letting in a rush of sweet, fresh air. As he lay gazing
out upon the starlit night, the beautiful rose-red Grail stole past
him on a beam of light, followed by a deafening peal of thunder.
Then a maiden ot his own faith, who worshiped in secret among
the Pagan herd, came to him stealthily and loosening his bonds,
aided him to escape."

" Aye," cried Ambros=us, " I know the knight of whom you speak 1
He chanced this W2y, and surely it was the same man. Forsooth, he
gave the nr'.nie of Bors; a shining pelican was engraved upon his
helm, and he seemed a reverent, square-set, honest man, with eyes
a-kindle and a warm smile, half shrouded in sadness, upon his lips.
But saw you no knight but Bors? And when you reached Came-
lot what befell you there? Were all the knights returned, or
had there been truth in Arthur's prophecy? And what said the
knights, and what replied the King?"

" One question at a time, brother," answered Percivale, smiling
at the monk's eagerness, " else I shall not be able to satisfy thee.
The good Bors and I journeyed back together, and all along the
way were striking evidences of the trouble and ruin that had de-
scended upon Arthur's once orderly realm. Here and there grand
castles were fallen into decay and peopled with ghosts and phan-
toms; we met no gaily decked, smiling knights, and our horses
slipped and stumbled desperately over carcasses of hornless unicorns
and once noble talbots, while all about the bones of the deadly
basilisk and the hated cockatrice lay bleaching in the sun.

" We found our beloved King seated upon the throne in
his lonely hall, and before him stood only one-tenth of those who
had gone forth so joyously on the Quest, and they were worn and
wasted. Most kindly did our King welcome me — for I had

THE SEARCH FOR THE HOLY GRAIL 143

ever been a favorite with him — saying that they had greatly
feared I had been destroyed in the late fierce storm which had
made sad havoc all about, and inquiring sadly if I had seen the
Holy Cup that Joseph of old had brought to Glastonbury.

" Then, when I had told him all that thou hast heard and of
my decision to spend my life in prayer in the seclusion of a monastery
he answered me never a word, but turned sharply to his nephew,
the courteous Gawain, saying, 'Gawain, was the Quest for such
I." thee? ' ' Nay, my lord,' answered Gawain softly, ' neither did I
pursue it long, for I met a holy man who showed me plainly that
it was not. Therefore, I gave myself to making merry in joyous
company, and spent my twelvemonth and a day right pleasantly.'

" The King now caught sight of Bors, where he stood by Lance-
lot's side, and hailed him cordially: 'All hail. Sir Bors! Thou,
I know, hast seeu the Grail, if ever it could be seen by loyal man
and true.' ' Yes, my King,' answered Bors simply, ' but ask me
no more, for I cannot speak of it.' And I saw that he had clasped
Lancelot's hand tightly, and that his eyes were filled with tears,
in grief and sympathy for his beloved kinsman.

" Arthur then called upon others of the sorry company, but
each and all spoke of naught but perils by flood and field, rill only
Lancelot remained, for the King had kept his mightiest till the
last. ' O Lancelot, my friend,' he said, ' our mightiest, hast thou
achieved the Quest?' — 'Alas, King,' groaned Lancelot sorrow-
fully, ' Arthur, my friend, if indeed I be a friend of thine, and
mightiest, methinks those are happier who welter in their sins like
swine in the mud, sunk so low they cannot see their own shame !
For in me evil and good strove together for the mastery, and the
pure and knightly seemed the very stock round which the evil twined
and grew, till neither could scarce be discerned; so that, when the
knights swore together to find the Grail, I swore with them, hop-
ing that if I might touch or see the Holy Thing I might pluck
the two asunder, and cast out the evil. I went to a holy saint,
and he wept and told me that unless I could separate the two, the

144 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

Quest itself was not for me. So I wrestled in prayer as he directed
me, and even while I prayed my madness came again upon me,
and drove me into the deep wilderness. Here I became the sport
of little men who once had fled at the mere shadow of my sword.
Fleeing from them, I came to the wild sea-shore, and there found
a boat tossing among the dank grasses. And all the sea was lashed
with foam, and drove like a cataract against the sand, and a wdd
thought came to me that, perchance, I might embark and lose my-
self in the seething waters, and thus wash away my sm in the great
Sea. No sooner thought than done; I burst the chains, and sprang
into the boat, and so for seven days I drifted along the dreary deep.
Then, on the seventh night, when I lay well-nigh distraught for
want of food and drink, I felt the boat strike sand and come to
anchor, and I alighted near the enchanted castle of Carbonek.
Steps led from the sea up to the great er ranee v/zv, but on either
side of the gate a huge lion stood on guard. However, I was
determined to enter, and so, grasping my sword firmly, I sprang
toward them. Like a flash they reared themselves on their hind
legs and gripped nisi by the shoulders, one on either side; but
before I could smite them, a voice cried: " Doubt not, go for-
ward; if thou doubtest, the beasts will tear thee piecemeal." My
sword was then dashed violently to the ground, and I passed on
into the empty castle hall, flooded with moonlight from a high
window that looked upon the sea. And all through the quiet house
sounded a sweet voice, dear as a lark's, that seemed to be sing-
ing In the topmost eastern tower, — a voice beautiful as an angel's,
and it drew me toward it. Half in a dream, I climbed more than
a thousand steps, and finally came to a d -or, through which showed
chinks of Hght, and heard the voice chanting: "Glory and joy
and honor to our Lord, and to the Holy Vessel of the Grail."
Here I was perhaps at the end of my Quest ! In eager frenzy
I beat upon the door and it gave way beneath my hands, then such
a blast of light and heat, as though seven times heated in a furnace,
smote upon me that I fell blinded and well-nigh senseless. As I

THE SEARCH FOR THE HOLY GRAU. 145

lay blinking and gasping, methought I saw the Holy Grail,
shrouded in crimson samite, and around it great angel-shapes, with
wings and shining eyes. And indeed, but for my madness and
my sin, and then my swooning away, I would have sworn that I
saw it in very truth; but what I saw was veiled and covered, and
so this Quest was not for me.'

"There was silence in the hall for several minutes after Lance-
lot ceased speaking and each knight stood with bowed head. Then
Gawain, encouraged by the silence of the King, burst out recklessly
and irreverently in his usual mad fashion: 'Truly, friend Perci-
vale, this mad quest of thine and thy holy nun's hath driven men
mad, even our mightiest knight of all. Never have / failed thee,
Kmg, in any quest of thine, nor shall I ; but herewith I swear for-
cvermore to be deafer than the blue-eyed cat and thrice as blind
as any noonday owl to all holy virgins and their religious ecstasies.'

"And the King made answer sternly: 'Gawain, thou art al-
ready too blind and deaf to have desire either to see or hear; no
need to make thy denseness greater by idle vows. But if, indeed,
there came a sign from Heaven, blessed are Bors, Percivale, and
Lancelot, for each has seen according as it was granted to each of
them to sec. And Lancelot, my friend, thou errtst in saying that
the good and evil had so grown together in thy heart that they
could not be dissevered; be sure that apart from thy sin, whatever
it may be, there grows some root of nobleness. See to it, my
friend, that the plant may bear its flower.'

" Then the noble Arthur turned to the wretched, withered hand-
ful of men, all that remained cf his noble Order of the Round
Table, once the very flower of the realm, and addressed them in
a quivering voice: ' O my knights, was I too dark a prophet when
I foretold that most of those who went forth upon the Quest would
follow wandering fires, and be lost in the quagmire of doubt and
empty dreams? Surely not, for scarce a tenth of those who set
forth in such mad eagerness have returned And out of those to
whom the /ision came, Lancelot, our greatest, will scarce believe

, ^

146 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

he saw; another hath beheld the Holy Thing afar off, and is con-
tent to leave human wrongs to right themselves, and cares for
naught but to pass his life in silent prayer; and Galahad, who alone
has seen the vision face to face, his chair is empty, and he comes
here no more; however, they may crown him victor in the spiritual
city. O my knights, spake I not truly when I said the Quest was
not for such as ye, and that our noble Order would f^nly be sacrificed
in vain? And some there were among ye who thought that if I,
the King, had seen the Vision, I myself would have sworn the vow.
But, my knights, do you not know that such could not have hap-
pened ea.ily, for it is the King's quest to do the duty set before him
in the land he rules? He is like a tiller of the soil to whom is
allotted a portion of a field to plow, nor must he leave it till his
work is done. Do not think, my knights, that I, the King, have
no visions come to me? Nay! many a time they come, by night
and by day, until sometimes I scarce know whether this earth I
tread be earth at all, or the air I breathe be air or vision, but still
through all I feel the strength of my purpose to serve my God and
Saviour, and then, when the vision is at its highest, I know I
shall never die, but live always. And so, my friends, I have my
visions, and you have yours. And what we have seen, we have

seen.

So saying, the King turned away, and all that he meant none
could tell. Only it seemed that he meant to show us that the
truest servant of God is he who, like himself, followed not after
any great quest, but stayed faithfully at home and looked after
the duties God had given him.

CHAPTER X

GUINEVERE

KING ARTHUR at once raised to knighthood men to fill the
places niaiio vacant in his noble Order by those who had lost
their lives in the vain search for the Grail, and for a time
everything seemed as well as at the beginning. The knights jousted
and tourneyed as before, they hawked and hunted, and every now
and then rode forth and assailed the heathen who frequently broke
over their borders; but, though mighty deeds were still done, and
brave hearts still worshiped and honored the King, there was yet
the old evil at work, spreading its poisonous growth throughout
the land.

7 he new knights were not the old, and soon faltered in their
loyalty to the King. They were easily influenced by evil doings,
and the King had many enemies at Court, chief among them being
his nephew, Modred, brother to the flighty Gawain, to the noble
Gareth, and son of Lot and Bellicent. hese evil followers ex-
cused themselves by saying that the Kin), expected too much of
them, but it was not so, for the King's character was not too lofty
a standard for any man who wished to be " a stainless gentleman."
And many grew quickly tired of their knighthood vows; others
waged long and bitter war with the evil in their hearts, only to
fail at last; and very few followed the King to the end, faithful
even unto death.

Sir Lancelot's wrestlings and struggles to uproot his sin died
away with the vision of the Grail. He forgot all about the her-
mit's advice and the wise counsel of the King on his return, and
became once more the Queen's most willing slave. All men knew
it, save the King, for no one dared tell him of the treachery, and

148 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

he loved and trusted Lancelot as of old. However, a time came
when the thing could no longer be hidden, and it happened in
this wise :

Day by day Queen Guinevere came more and more to fear Sir
Modred's fawning smile and mocking, persistent, gray eyes. She
knew him for the cruel, ambitious man he was, and knew also that
he hated her and Lancelot, and most of all the King, and that he
would stop at nothing to gain his desire — the throne of Camelot.
She knew, too, that he spied upon her, and she feared th^ one day
he would track her guilt and proclaim it abroad to all men, and
thus shame her forever. So great became her fear that she could
not sleep at night, and started with alarm at every shadow that
crossed her path. Then she begged Lancelot, saying: "O
Lancelot, if thou lovest me, go away to thine own land. I fear to
have thee here, and to meet thee. Go away, I pray thee, until
this smoldering scandal has had time to die away in ashes. Go,
Lancelot, else the wily Modred will rake all forth into a blaze
before the people and our lord, the King."

And Lancelot, ever willing to do her least wish, consented re-
luctantly. Therefore, they set a night when they knew the good
King would be absent, to meet and bid farewell forever. Now
Modred heard of this in some way, and laid his plans to entrap
them. As Lancelot and Guinevere sat upon the Queen's couch
in her boudoir, hand clasping hand, passion-pale in a very madness
of farewell:, there came a triumphant shout, and Modred's voice,
crying: "Come out, traitor, you are trapped at last." Then
Lancelot rushed forth with a roar like a wounded lion, and leaping
upon Modred hurled him head foremost down the tower stairs,
where he fell in a heap among his comrades, whom he had stationed
It the foot for witnesses.

" Alas! " sobbed the Queen, " now no sacrifice will avail. The
end is come, and I am shamed forever.'"

" Nay," said Lancelot, soothingly, striving to comfort her, " mine
be the shame, for mine was the sin. Hut rise and come away with

GUINEVERE

149

mc to my strong castle over the sea. There will I hide thee and
protect thee from all the world, till my life shall end."

" No, Lancelot," returned the Queen sorrowfully. " All is at
an end, we have taken our farewells. Would to God we had taken
them sooner, and that I might hide from myself 1 Say no more,
for mine is the shame ; I was a wife, but thou art unwedded. Please
Heaven you had wedded the lily maid of Astolat and departed moons
ago! But I must fly ere my lord Arthur returns, for great will
be his just anger. I shall get me secretly into the convent at Alms-
bury, and there give myself to a life of prayer, hoping to recc ve,
if possible, relief from the pain and shame that suffocate me.
And I charge thee tell no man of my whereabouts."

So in the silence of the night the humbled Queen stole aw ly to
the Almsbury sanctuary, and Lancelot fled with all speed to his
own land, and the courtiers, not knowing, thought that they had
flown together. Loosed were all the tongues of the Court and
talk ran high, but not one of the scandal-mongers had courage to
tell the noble King when he returned toward morning, wearied
out with an unfruitful quest. Quickly they bethought themselves
of the lateness of the hour and scurried silently away to their
chambers.

Slowly Arthur climbed the stairs, chilled to the bone with death-
dumb, autumn-dripping gloom, and a nameless horror fell upon
him, some great, over-hanging evil, which smote him three-fold as
he noted with dismay that his beloved Queen's bower was dark as
the night around. Then a form pressed close to him and clung
sobbing at his feet, and when he questioned "What art thou?" it
faltered forth: " Alas, I am Dagonet, thy fool, and I shall never
make thee smile again."

It was but too true. Dagonet, the merry court-jester, he who
was wont to provoke the smiles of the weary and way-worn, was
at heart a sorrowing, disappointed man, and he felt keenly how
deeply the thrust of unfaithfulness from wife and trusted friend
would probe into his master's noble heart. In a moment, the ter-

150 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THK KING

riblc truth flashed upon the King, and he saw as though bla/cd in
fire all that he had lately tried not to believe, for some of the
whispers had occasionally reached his ear. With a low moan he
turned heart-brokenly and bowed his head against the cold, silent
wall, well-nigh bereft of reason that the two to whom he had given
all of his mighty love, with whom he had exchanged vows of faith-
fulness unto death, should thus prove false to him and to their (iod;
nor did he give the slightest ear to the efforts at comfort which
Dagonet, the jester, the least of all his knights, and yet the only
one brave enough to come to him in his great trouble, essayci to
give him.

Meanwhile, Queen Guinevere, at the convent gates, tca..ully
pleaded for admission: "Mine enemies pursue me. O peaceful
sisterhood, I pray ye to receive me into your fold mat I may spend
my life in prayer and pleading, for my sins are many aid most bit-
terly do I repent."

Wrought upon by her grace and beauty, the gentle nuns con-
sented, and at her request even forbore to ask her name. S i for
many weeks the Queen dwelt among them unknown, wrapped in
grief, and communing only with a little maid, who, pleased by the
strange lady's great beauty and pleasing manner, loved ever to
hover near and wait upon her. But even in the quiet peaefulness
of the convent the Queen did not find the oblivion and forgetful-
ness of the world which she sought; forever and anon there floated
through the sanctuary bits of news from the outside world, which
the little maid loved to babble. First, after she had been there
but a few days, the news came that the King was waging war
against Lancelot in the fastness of his strong tower; then, and the
Queen's very soul writhed within her, the cry was waged that while
the King was absent. Sir Modred had leagued himself with the
heathen and usurped the throne.

" Woe is me! " moaned the Queen to herself. " With what a
hate the people and the King must hate me! 'Tis all mv fault.
Had I been the true queen that Arthur thought me — aye! and

GUINEVERK

151

deserved — then rn'Rht the noble Op'er of the Round Tabic still
be bright and flourishing, and Koodncs>, purity, and beauty be
reigning abroad in all the land! Peace be to my soul that knew
not, or cared not, to distinguish the false from the true I O my
ma' Jen," turning besecchingi/ to the girl loitering near, "sing, I
pray thee, something sad and sweet enough to unlock the sorrow
that grips my heart. Sing, that the tears may come and cool my
burning brain ere I go mad indeed I "

And the little maid, half frl^'htened by the wild words and man-
ner of her beloved lady, lifted up her swtct voice and sang:

"Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chilli
Late, late, so late! bi. we can enter still.
Too late, ti late! ye cannot enter now.

"No ligl,'- had we; for that we do repent.
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.

" No light! so late! and dark and Jiill the night!
O, let us in, that we may find the light!
Too late, too late! ye unnot enter no v.

" Ha\ we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet?
O, let us in, tho' late, to kiss his feet!
No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now."

Memories fraught with the sweetness that might have been.
concerning the time when first she came a bride to Camelot, pressed
upon the Queen, and she bowed her head low upon her hands and
shook with passionate, remorseful sobs.

" Oh, I pra you, noble lady," cried the maiden, ceasing her song
abrupi./, r-iore alarmed than ever, " weep no more. Let my words
comfort \ -ur sorrows, for they do not flow from evil done; right
sure am I of that, seeing your tender grace and stateliness. Weigh
your sorrows with the King's, my lady, and sec how much less they

152 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF 'mL KING

be, for gone is he to wa^c grim 'vur aKainst Sir Lancelot in
his strong castle by the sea where he holds our guilty Queen; and
Modred, whom he left in thar^e of all, his own nephew, has turned
traitor. O sweet lady, the King's grief for his own self, and hi»
own Queen and realm must needs be thrice as great as any grief of
ours! Think, no matter how much he may desire to weep in
silence, as wc do here in quiet Almsbury, he cannot, for he is Kmg,
and all the world knows his grief and shame. He could not veil
his Queen's wickedness if he would."

"Sweet Heaven!" thought the Queen, "will the child kill me
with her innocent talk?" But aloud she answered, " Must not L
if the false traitor has displeased his lord, grieve in common with
all his realm? "

" Yea," replied the maiden sadly. " It is a grief for all women
that she is a woman, whose disloyal life hath wrought confusion in
the Round Table which good King Arthur founded long years ago,
with signs and miracles and wonders, at Camelot, ere the Queen

came."

The Queen writhed in anguish, as one upon a rack, and queried
bitterly : " O little maid, shut in by nunnery walls, what canst thou
know of kings and Round Tables, of signs and wonders, except
it be the signs and simple miracles of the sanctuary? "

" O my lady," answered the girl quickly, " I have not always
lived here. My father wa? a friend of Arthur and rode to Came-
lot from Lyones^e to be knighted at the founding of the Order.
He told me many wonderful things, for in those days the land was
full of signs and miracles straight from Heaven. He said that
when he reached the turning, an hour, or perhaps two, after sun-
set, he looked back in farewell along the coast toward Lyonesse and
saw white-clad spirits spring forth, with beacon-stars upon their
heads and wild sea-light about their feet, until all the headlands
shone in flame like the rich heart of the west. And in the light the
white mermaiden swam, and strong man-breasted things stood from
the sea, and sent a deep sea-voice through all the land, to which the

GUINKVKRE

'S3

echoes made answer like a distant sounding horn. And further-
more, the next morning, as he passed through dim-lit woods, he
beheld three spirits mad with joy come dashing down on a tall way-
side Howcr, that shook beneath their weight as a thiscle shakes when
three gray linnets wrangle for the seed. And in the evenings, the
flickering fairy circle wheeled and broke in front of him, then flew
and linked and broke again, and ever spcil before him. And when
at last he arrived at Camelot, a wreath of airy dancers hand in hand
swung round the lighted lantern in the hall; and there was spread
such a feast as never man hr.d dreamed; for every knight was
served with what he longed for most by hands unseen, and down in
the cellars merry bloated things shouldered the spigot while the
wine ran high. This you sec was Arthur's realm, my lady, before
the coming of the sinful Queen."

" Aye," said the Queen, still bitterly, " if they were all so happy,
and the land so full of signs, why was not some miracle shown fore-
telling the doom in store if Guinevere came into the land? Why
did not thy wise father, who was so apt in reading signs, foresee
this?"

" O my lady," exclaimed the girl softly, " such wisdom was far
beyond my gentle father. But there was one, a bard, well-skilled
in making songs, who sang before the knights a glorious song of
Arthur's wars, picturing the King as more than man, and railing
at those who called him the false son of Gorlols. — For no man
knows, my lady, from whence Arthur came. He was found one
morning, after a great tempest, a naked child upon the sands of
dark Tintagil by the Cornish sea. And they fostered him, and he
grew up, and was proven the true King by a miracle, and so
crowned. — The bard wove in all of this, my lady, and said that
the King's grave, like his birth, should be a mystery from all men.
Furthermore, he said that if the King could find a woman as great
in her womanhood as he was In his manhood, they two might change
the world. Then, in the midst of his song, he faltered and turned
pale and wtll-nigh swooned away, and when he was recovered

154 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

would sing no more, neither would he tell to any one his vision —
but, can you doubt, my lady, that he did not foresee the evil work
of Lancelot and th Queen? "

"Lo!" thoucht the Queen miserably, "our simple-seeming
abbess and the nuns have found me out, and have sent this maiden
to play upon me." Whereat she bowed her head in her hands and

spoke no more.

" Ah, sweet lady, ' murmured the ir.aiden, breaking the silence,
for to her, silence was made only to be broken, " have I vexed thee
with my garrulous talk? If so, bid me be silent; for I Jo not
wish to be a prattler and vex my father's memory — my father who
was ever the noblest in manners, though indeed he would have it
that Sir Lancelot's was the nobler. Pray check me, lady, if I ask
amiss, but when you Tioved at Court — for I know by your grace
and beauty you must sometir e have dwelt in the halls of Arthur

which was the noblest, Lancelot or our lord the King? "

Whiter, if possible, than before grew the Queen's sad face, but
she made answer composedly: " Sir Lancelot, as became a noble
knight, was gracious to all ladies, and in open battle or in the
tourney-field always forebore to press his own advantage; and the
King also did the same, and these two were the most noble man-
nered men of all; for manners are not Mlc, but the fruit of loyal
nature and of noble mind."

" If so," observed the maiden musingly, " then Lancelot must in
truth be a thousand-fold less noble than his King, for, as rumor has
it, he is the most disloyal friend in all the w irld."

' " Aye, maiden," replied the Queen mournfully, " closed about by
narrowing nunnery walls, thou knowest little of the world's lights
and shadows, or of its wealth and woes. If ever Lancelot, that
most noble knight, were for one hour ''fss noble than himself, pray
for him that he escapes the doom of fire, and weep for her who drew

him to his doom."

" I do indeed pray for both, sweet lady," answered the novice
earnestly. " But I could as soon believe Sir Lancelot as noble as

GUINEVERE

IS5

his King as that you, my lady, could be as sinful as the hiding
Queen."

So, like many another babbler, the maiden hurt where she would
soothe, and harmed where she would heal. But her last words
proved a straw too many, and the Queen's anger broke beneath
the load.

" Traitress! " stormed Guinevere, with flushing face and stamp-
ing foot. " Petty spy I Tool, set upon to plague and harry me!
May such as thou become even as the Queen. Get thee hence ! "

The last words roused the frightened maiden, who stood before
the Queen white as her veil and as tremulous as foam upon the
windy beach, and she turned and fled as tliough pursued by
phantoms.

Then Guinevere sank back upcn her couch, hiding her face In
her hands, her anger gone, saying to herself reproachfully: " The
poor child meam nothing, but my own too fearful guilt betrays
itself. Heaven help me, for surely I repent! And what is true
repentance but in thought — never again to think of the things that
made the past so pleasant? And I have sworn never to see him
more — never to see his face again. Ah, n.e ! "

So sighing, and off her guard for the moment, the Queen's
memory, from old habit, slipped back to the days when she had
first met Sir Lancelot. How noble and true he had seemed when
he came that day, reputed the best and goodliest man in the hall
of Arthur, to act as ambassador to his King, and lead her forth to
be a bride — the bride of the great King, Arthur Pendragon,
whom as yet she had not seen I How pleasant was the trip through
the leafy woods and over the blossoming fields, where the mating
birds sang joyously, and all the heavens seemed upbreaking through
the earth! How she had enjoyed the company of the handsome,
brilliant knight, and how pleasant had been their talk of sport and
field and all the sweet thoughts of youth I Ah, me I if life could
have been one long ramble over blue hyacinths and 'neath whisper-
ing pines by the side of the courtly dark-haired Lancelot; if they

r :.

I. !

156 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

could have wandered for aye and never come near the great, golden
Pendragonship and the waiti ig, golden-haired King, who had
proven such a high, self-contained lover! For Guinevere had
never loved her husband. Hers was then a soul incapable of un-
derstanding the great height and purity he had reached, and she
had early tired of his loftly ideals.

So she sat immersed in trance, moving through the past uncon-
sciously, till on a s,jdden rang a cry throughout the quiet nunnery:
"The King! The King!" Stricken stiff, the Queen listened to
the mailed feet as they rang along the corridor, then fell trom her
seat prone upon the floor and veiled her lace in her white arms,
her golden hair unbound and floating all :;bout her. Not once
did the feet pause until they reached her side, then came a long
silence, and at last, when she felt she could bear the suspense no
longer, a voice spoke, so low, monotonous, hollow, and changed,
that she scarce knew it for her lord's:

" Liest thou here so low, the child of one I honored, dead before
thy shame ? Well it is that no child is born of thee 1 Thine off-
spring arc sword and fire, red ruin and the breakinr up of laws,
the craft of kindred and the godless hosts of heaihen swarming
o'er the Northern Sea ! Kncwest thou from whence I have come ?
From waging bitter war with Lancelot, my mightiest knight and
erstwhile brother; and he that did not hesitate to smite mc in the
worst way, had yet the grace of courJc-sy left in him to stay his hand
against the King who made him knight. But many a noble knight
w^s s' .in. and all Lancelot's kith and kin have gone to abide with
him; Modred has raised a revolt with many more who have chosen
to forget their troth and fealty and cleave unto him, so I have only
a remnant of my once glorious Round Table rcmrining. But of
this remnant who still love and serve me I will spar-; enoigh to
guard thee safely here, for there are wild ♦•mes in store for the

land.

" Unless ancient prophecies err, I march now to mrtt my doom,
as it has been foretold that one of mine own blood shall overthrow

GUINEVERE

'57

me. But thou hast not made my hfe so sweet to me that I, the
King, should greatly care to live, for thou hast spoilt the purpose
of my life. Oh, Guinevere, I was first of all the kings to raise the
knight errantry of tlie realm and bind them into one company, the
fair Order of the Round I able, a glorious band composed of the
flower of men. and one well-titted to serve as a model for the mighty
world. I bound them to me with vows strait and severe; I made
them lay their hands in mint and swear to reverence the King, as
if he were their conscience, and their conscience as their King; to
break the heathen and uphold the Christ; to ride abroad redressing
human wrongs; tn speak no slander, no, nor listen to it; to honor
their own word as if their God's, and lead sweet lives of purest
chastity; to love one maiden only, cleave to her, and worship her
with years of noble deeds, for I know of no more subtle master
under heaven than a loving maiden to keep down the base in man
and teach him high thought, amiable ord", courtliness, desire for
fame, and all that makes a man. And Guinevere, all this throve
before I wedded thee, believing thee one to feel my purpose and be
a true helpmate. But thy shameful sin with Lancelot corrupted
all my Court, and smote all that my heart most desired; so that
now I care not greatly if I lose my life. Think how sad it would
be for me to sit within my lonely halls missing my noble knights
.md their accustomed tales of goodly deeds, as in the golden days
before thy sin; and at Camelot and iJsk thy darkened Dowers would
ever speak of thee and I should always hear thy I; ht footfalls on
the stairs and see thy shadow glide from room to room. For,
Guinevere, think not because thou didst not love thy lord, that he
has wholly lost his love for thee. I am not made of so slight ele-
ments, yet I must leave thee, woman, to thy shame. Better the
King's waste hearth and aching heart, than thou re-seated in thy
place of light, the mockery of my people and their bane I "

For a moment the King paused, his voice too choked for speech,
and the miserable Queen crept forward and laid her hands about his
feet, but she did not speak or unveil her saddened, tear-swcpt face.

158 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KLNG

The King had no idea of the great sea of remorse and repentanc;
that seethed in her soul and paralyzed her tongue. In the distance
a solitary trumpet blew, and the waiting war-horse below neighed
joyfully, as though recognizing the voice of a friend, 'ihe sound
roused the King, and he continued sorrowfully: —

" Yet think not, Guinevere, that I have come to curs. thee. I.
whose vast pity almost makes me die to see thee laying thy goldei
head, that was once my pride, at my feet. Piist is my flaming
wrath and the pangs which made my tears burn, and lo, I forgive
thee, as Eternal God forgives 1 Do thou tor thine o- n soal the

rest. .

" But how shall I take leave of all I loved ^ O golden hair,
with which I used to play, not knowing! O bea. iful worn nhood
— a kingdom's curse to Camelot! I cannot touch th lips, they
are not mine, but Lancelot's; nay, they never were the King's. I
cannot take thy hand; that too is flesh, and in the flesh thou hast
sinned. Nevertheless, O Guinevere, in spite of all, I love thee
still 1 Let no man dream but that I love thee still! Perchance,
if so thou purify thy soul and lean on our fair father Christ, here-
after in that world where all are pure we two may meet before high
God, and thou wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know I
am thy husband. Leave me this last hope, I charge thee.

" Now I must get me hence. Through the thick night I hear
the trumpet blow. They summon me, their King, to lead to a
great battle in the West, where I must str'ke against the man they
call my sisters son — no kin of mine, who leagues with Lords of
tne White Horse, heathen and traitor knight! But I shall strike
him dead, and meet myself with mine own mysterious doom, con-
cerning which you shall hear in due time. Hither I shall never
come again, never see thee more — Farewell I "

Then Guinevere felt the King's breath upon her neck, and knew
that ho bent low over her and spread his hands in unspoken blessing.
Choking with sobs he turned and passed from the room, and still
the heartbroken Queen made no sign. Low she groveled in

GUINEVERE 159

despair till the last faint sound of the mailed feet had passed;
then sudden! sprang into life, consumed with the desire to sec his
face and yet ;iersclf keep hidden. And lo! the King sat on his
horse heneath her window, and round him was a group of nuns,
each with a candle, listening eagerly, with glad compliance, to his
charges concerning his beloved Queen, and how they were to guard
an foster her forevermore. And as he spake to therr his helm
was lowered so that his face, which then was as an angel's was
hidden from her; while above him, in his crest, the great Dragon
of the Pendragonship blazed so brightly that all the night seemed
a stream of fire, and the moony vapor rolled about the King and
wound him in a sea of mist until his very form was hidden from the
sight of her who gazed so yearningly. Then the blameles". white
King moved away ghostlike to his doom, and the Queen's numbed
tongue made a great effort 3t speech.

" O Arthur," she called, extending her arms toward him beseech-
ingly, but so hoarse and faint was htr voice that it carried not even
to the iiuns below, and they gazed after the noble form of their
King, unmindful of the stricken woman above them, who well-nigh
died as the great remorseful waves of her sin sv/ept over her, and
she realized at last what Arthur was, and knew, too, that she loved
him better than all else on earth. Who can measure the despair
thnt wa'; hers as she gazed in the direction her lord had gone?
Only those, perhaps, who have drained to the dregs the bitter
draught Too Late.

" Gone, my lord," she moaned. " Gone through my sin, to slay
and to be slain! And he forgave me, and I could not speak!
Sweet h iven, I should have answered him, but his mercy choked
me. How can it be farewell? Gone, my lord *he King, my own
true lord ! But how dare I call him mine ? The shadow of Lance-
lot cleaves to me, and the King called me polluted. Woe Is me!
What shall I do? . . . Shall I kill myself? But what help
in that? I cannot kill my sin, if soul be soul, nor can I kill my
shame; no, nor by living can 1 live it dow.i. The days will grow

'< rs

i6o THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KLNG

to weeks, th^ weeks to months, the months will add themselves and
make the years, tiiC y-ars will roll into the centuries, and mine will
ever be a name of scorn. I must not dwell on the defeat of fame.
Let the world be; but what else have I? He spoke of a hope,
unless it be he mocked me, his hope he called it; but he never mocks,
for mockery is the fume of little hearts. Blessed be the King, who
hath forgiven my wickedness, and left me hope that in mine own
heart I can live down sin, and be his noble mate hereafter in the
heavens before high Godl

" Ah, great and gentle Arthur, lord to whom my false pride
would not look up, I half despised the height to which I would not,
or could not, climb. I thought I coi'd not breathe in that fine air,
that pure severity of perfect light; I yearned for the warmth and
color which Lancelot gave me, but now I see thee as thou art.
Thou art the highest and the most human, tool Oh, is there none
to tell the King I love him, though so late? Now — ere he goes
to the battle? Sweet heaven, none! I must live so that I myself
may tell him in that purer life; now it were too daring. Ah, my
God, what might I not have made of thy fair world, had I but loved
thy highest creature here? It was my duty to have loved the
highest; it surely was my profit had I known; it would have been
my pleasure had I seen. Always we needs must love the highest
when we see it."

Here some one grasped her hands in warm supplication, and
lifting her bowed head the Queen beheld the little novice weep-
ing at her feet. " Yea, little maid," she said softly. " Arise,
I forgive the? willingly, for am I not forgiven? "

Then sie became aware that the holy nuns were gathered around
her, weeping, and her heart was loosed within her, and she wept
with them, saying: " Ye know me then, that wicked one who
broke the vast design and purpose of the King? O shut me round
v/ith narrowing nu"nery-wa!ls, and keep me from the voices cry-
ing, ' Shame! ' Yet let me not scjrn myself, for he loves me still
— let no one dream but that he loves me still. And, holy maidens.

GUINEVERE

i6i

if so ye do not shudder at me nor scorn to call me sister, let mc
dwell with you. I would wear the black and white, and be a nun
like you, — fasting with your fasts, but not feasting with your
feasts; grieving with your grief:,; not grieving at your joys but
still not rejoicing with them; mingling with all your sacred rites.
I would pray and be prayed for. I would do each low office of
your holy house, — walk your dim cloister, distribute dole to poor,
sick people, and so wear out in alms-deed and in prayer the life
which wrought the ruin of my lord, the King."

And it came to pass as the Queen petitioned. The nuns gladly
took her unto themselves, and she, half hoping, half fearing, pray-
ing always, sought to free herself from sin. Finally the good
abbess died, and Guinevere, because of her kindly deeds, her re-
pentant life, and noble rank, was chosen to fill her place. For
three years she ruled wisely and well, beloved by all, and then
passed to that better land, where sin cannot enter in, her heart
filled with the message she meant to deliver to Arthur,

CIlAPli-R XI

Tin: pAssiNc; OF arthur

WHEN King Arthur rode forth from his farewell of the
humbled Queen in the convent at Almshury, his heart lay
dead within him. He had lost faith in the world, and in
himself, and, as he told the Queen, he did not greatly care to live.
So he joined the main body of his faithful followers and moved
with them toward that battle which was destined to take place in
the West, and where it had been foretold that he would meet
his doom. A great restlessness was upon him. He could not eat,
and, though worn with the day's marches, he could not sleep, and
spent the time listening in vain f.jr the answer to that bitter cry
echoed from the cross, " My God, my God, why hast thou for-
saken me? "

One night Sir Bedivere, the first of all the knights whom he had
knighted, a faithful, trusty follower who never for one moment
doubted his KIpl nnd one of the three whom Arthur sent to
Leodogran with the request for his daughter's hand in marriage,
being himself una'jle to sleep, came oi't and wandered among the
pitched tents of tiie hosts. Something drew him near to the tent
of his lord, and here he heard the King lamenting to himself over
the failure of his life's work and purpose, saying that surely God
had forsaken him, if, indeed, God cared for the world of men at
all, for he, the King, had wrought and lought for Jod's cause all
his life, and now wife, friend and people had betrayed him, and
there was no sign that Heaven took any heed. And the heart of
Bedivere was heavy within him, and he sought in vain for some
comforting thought to offer. But, whilf he cudgeled his brains,
Arthur himself stammered forth the words that had once given
comfort to the Psalmist when the bitterness and heaviness of death

162

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

163

WU3 upon him: " ' I shall not die, but live, and declare the works
of the Lord.' O Christ, I pass, but shall not die."

And the King slept, but not in peace, for there came to him,
blown lightly along the wind, the ghost of Gawain, who was killed
in the wnr with Lancelot. As the frail phantom passed, it cried
to him:

"Hail, King! To-morrow thou shalt pass away. Farewell 1
There is an isle of rest for thee, but I am blown along a wandering
wind. Hollow, hollow, hollow is all delight! "

The King waked with a start, crying: "Who spake? Twas
the voice of Gawain in the wind. Was it a dream? Or doth all
that haunt the wastes and wilds mourn, knowing that the end oi
the Round Table is at hand? "

Sir Bedivere made quick to answer: " My King, let pass what-
ever will, elves and the harmless glamor of the field, for yet thou
shalt not pass. Light was Gawain in life, and light is he in death,
for the ghost is as the man; care not thoo for dreams of him, but
rise. I hear the steps of Modred in the West, and with him are
many of the knights, once thine, whom thou hast loved, but who
are now grown grosser than the heathen, spitting on their vows
and on thee. Right well in heart they know thee for the King.
Arise, go forth and conquer as of old! '

But the King answered him sadly, saying: " Far other is this
battle whereto we move than when we strove in youth, and brake
the petty things, and fought with Rome. Ill doom is mine to war
against my people and my knights. The King who fights his peo-
ple fights himself. The stroke that strikes them dead is as my
death to me. But let us hence, and find or feel our way through
this blind haze, which, ever since I left one lying in the dust at
Almsbury, hath folded the paths of the world in darkness for me."
So the King arose and girded on his armor while it was yet
night, and summoned his willing hosts, and by their powerful aid
I'ushed the forces of Modred, league by league, back to the west-
ern boundary of Lyonesse. Here the long mountains ended in a

■«

,64 THF STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KLNG

coast of shiftinK sand, and beyond this was the cver-rcstlcss sea.
1 he traitors could Hcc no more, so turned on the waste sands by
the hujigry sea and there closed with the Knights of the Kound
Tabic in that last " weird battle of the West."

Arthur had fought in many a battle, but never in one like this.
A death-white mist swept over land and sea, and chilled the blood
of friend and foe until their hearts were cold with formless fear.
And even on Arthur fell confusion, since he saw not whom he
fought; for friend ind foe were shadows in the mist, and friend
ilcw friend not knowing whom he slew. And all fought as men
possessed; some were haunted by visions of golden youth, others
were met by the faces of old ghosts upon the battle-field, and in
the mist was done man/ a noble, knightly deed, and also many a
base one. All the air was tilled with the crash of splintering spears
and the shattering of helm and harness under the blows of sword
and battle-axe, and the shouts of those who prevailed mingled with
the shrieks of the fallen, who looked to Heaven for the Christ, and
saw only the mist, and heard only the oaths, insults, and blas-
phemies of the wounded heathen and traitorous knights, the prayers
and cries for light, and the moans of the dying.

All day long the forces swayed and struggled, until toward even-
ing a dead hush fell upon the scene. Then a bitter wind came
out from the North and blew the traitorous mist aside, and the
moon rose clear and full over the battle-field. King Arthur got
upon his feet, pale and unsteady, and glanced searchingly over the
field, but no man was moving there, nor was any voice, either of
Christian or heathen, heard thereon; all was deathly still, save the
wild waves of the ocean. For the relentless tide was coming in,
and surged among the dead faces, swaying the helpless hands to
and fro and tumbling the hollow helmets of the dead. And the
King swayed and would have fallen, but for the timely hand of
Sir Bedivere, who alone of all his once glorious Round Table
remained by his side.

" Ah, Bedivere," cried the Ki.ig, clinging gladly to his faithful

THE PASSING O! ARTHUR

165

follower, whom he had not bclure ohscrvcd, " thou art true and
loyal still! Hcarcst thou the voice ot the sea as it beats upon the
taccs of the dead who died tor me? Alas! on my hrart h^th
fallen a great confusion; I know not what I am, or where I am,
or whether I be Kin^. Behold, I seem but King amon^ the dead."
"Aye," answered Bcdivfrc boldly, "my King, King everywhere I
If the dead have kings, there also will I worshp thee. But stdl
thy life is whole, and still 1 live who love thee; but as for him who
hates thee, he that brought the heathen back among us, behold
yonder he stands unharmed, — Modred, the traitor of thy house,"
and he pointed scornfully to where Modred had lifted himself
victoriously above a heap of slain.

All the great Kind's heart was shaken by one last wild burst
of wrath. " Call him not one of my house," he cried fiercely,
grasping his sword, Excalibur. " No kin of mine is he who hath
lifted up his hand against me in treachery. But thou sayesr well
in this dark hour of mine that for thee I still am King. Yea,
I am the King, and thou shalt sec one more deed worthy of a
King before I go hence and am seen no more."

Like a lion roused, he rushed upon the traitor. But Modred
was ready and waiting, and gave him back blow for blow, in-
flicting many grievous wounds upon his head. Then Arthur, sum-
moning all his strength for a fatal blow, brought down Excalibur
with mighty force and laid the rebel Modred dead at his feet,
but he was well-nigh dead himielf.

In a trice Sir Bedivere was at the side of his fainting Kin^,
and bore him tenderly to a ruined chapel in a field near by. It
stood on a narrow strip of waste land, out of reach of the grasp-
ing sea, which sought in vain to over-wash it from one side, while
on the other a great mere shone brightly in the moonlight. Here
at the foot of a broken cross, Bedivere gently laid the King and
ministered unto him.

Soon Arthur opened his blue eyes, and said weakly: "The
sequel of to-day unsolders all the goodliest fellowship of famous

MICRCXOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART

ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2

1.0 'rifi iM

I.I

i- iv 12.2

136

lio lllll 2.0

1.8

1.25 III 1.4

1.6

A APPLIED IIVMGE Inc

■ 6) 482 - OJOO - PhO' c
16) 2M - 5989 - Fo,

i66 THE STOR 1 OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

knights whereof this world holds record. They sleep - the mea
I loved — ," and a little later he whispered brokenly, I pensh
by this people which I made."

Then presently he seemed to gather strength, and roused him-
self to talk to the sorrowful Bedivere. " Ah, Bedivere. rny faith-
ful knight and true, first and last of all my nob.e Ko""d ^ able
n.ver more shall we meet in joyous converse m the halls and
gardens of CamelotI All are dead, the men I loved. I made this
realm and people, and they have been my death, though yet I
hold by Merlin's prophecy that I shall come agam to rule once
more. But heed not thou the future. Urgent is the present need,
for my wound is so deep that except some aid come I cannot live
till morning. Do thou, therefore, take my good sword, Excal.bur,
which long ago was given me by the Lady of the Lake - thou re-
memberest how the mystic arm rose up from the surface of the
water, and gave the sword into my hand; and thou knowest also
how Merlin bade me: 'Take thou and strike; the time to cast
away is yet far off,' and I took it and did strike, not for my own
glory, but for the glory of Christ, my Master; and now the time
fs at hand to cast away -therefore take Excalibur, I say and
haste thee to the brink of the mere, fling him therein as far as
thou mayest, watch what befalls, and quickly bring me word agam.

" My King," answered Sir Bedivere earnestly, " it is not meet
to leave thee here alone, for a little thing may harm a wounded
man. Yet, if thou commandest, I can but obey. Quickly will I
go, watch and see, and bring thee word." . , . •

With all haste Sir Bedivere went forth from the ruined shrine,
passing among the tombs that stood around it where the bones
of many mighty men lay moldering. and climb,ng_ by a rugged
zigzag path down the juts of pointed rock, he reacned at last the
shining levels of the lake. Here he drew the sword, Excalibur
and prepared to fling it into the lake. But as he ^-nd'shed >
aloft the moon came out from behind a cloud and sparkled m the
keen' frosty air upon the hilt, for the hilt was all encrusted with

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

167

gems, — sapphire, topaz, diamond, and jacinth, a miracle of jewel-
work. And Bcdivere was dazzled by the blinding:; light, and his
purpose wavered for he could not bring himself to cast away a
thing so precious. Therefore, he determined to leave Kxcalibur
hidden among the many-knotted waterflags that whistled stiff aid
dry beside the water's edge, and so strode slowly back to the
wounded King.

"Hast thou performed my mission?" questioned Arthur
quickly. " What hast tho. seen or heard?"

And Bedivere made answer, saying: " 1 heard the waters lap-
ping on the rocks, and washing among the reeds."

" Thou hast betrayed thy nature and thy name, not rendering
true answer like a noble knight! " cried the King faintly. " It is
a shameful thing for men to lie. Hadst thou done as I bade thee,
there had been some sign, either hand or voice or motion of the
water. But now I charge thee, as thou art lief and dear to me,
go agam quickly, and spare not to fling the sword. Watch what
thou seest and bring me word."

So Sir Bedivere went the second time across the ridge. But
no sooner had he drawn Excalibur from the reeds, .ban it again
seemed to him to be a sin and a shame to cast away so noble a sword.
"What good can follow if I do this thing?" he asked himself.
" What harm if I do it not? Much harm in disobedience, doubt-
less; but would it be greatly wrong to disobey the King, now?
Surely he is sick with his wound, and knows not what he sayi . And
if I throw the sword away, what relic or record of my lord is left
to after ages? Whereas, if Excalibur is kept stored in a King's
treasure-house, it will be much to King Arthur's worship and honor.
It will prove an inspiration to men in the ages to come, and folks
will marvel at it and say, ' King Arthur's sword, wrought by the
maiden of the Lake in nine years' time!" Therefore, he hid
Excalibur a second time, and went slowly back to the King.

And Arthur, breathing heavily, asked him again: "What is
it thou hast seen or heard?"

i68 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

" I heard the water lapping on the crag, and the long ripple
washing in the reeds," answered Sir Bedivere as before.

Then was King Arthur wroth indeed. " Ah, traitor, unkind,
untrue ! " he cried scornfully. " Woe is me 1 Authority forgets a
dying King. I see thee what thou art, for thou, the last of all
my knights left to me, who should compass the love and loyal
obedience of all, thou wouldst betray me for the sake of the precious
hilt, either for the lust of the eyes or the lust of gold. But now,
get thee hence once more, for though a man has twice failed m
his duty, yet he may prosper the third time. Begone; only if
this time thou sparest to fling Excalibur, I will arise and slay thee
with mine own hands."

Sir Bedivere was filled with shame, and, rising quickly, he leaped
down the path to the water's edge, snatched Excalibur from the
bulrushes, and wheeling with shut eyes that he might not again be
tempted, threw it with all his strength straight into the middle of
the mere. Round and round the great brand flashed, making
lightnings in vhe splendors of the moon, and whirling over in an
arch like a streamer of light from the great Aurora of the North.
But lo! ere the sword could dip the wave, a mighty arm, clothed
in mystic white samite, rose up from the bosom of tlie waters, caught
the hilt, and, brandishing Excahbur three times, drew it under into
the mere. Then was Sir Bedivere filled with wonder and amaze-
ment, and he hurried to the King.

"Aye!" cried Arthur, before he could find breath for speech,
" I know by thine eyes that thou hast done my command. Tell
me : what is it thou hast heard, or seen? " And he listened quietly
while Sir Bedivere told the wonder. Then he murmured heavily:
" My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were gone. iMake broad
thy shoulders to receive my weight, and bear me to the mere. I
fear my wound hath taken cold, and that 1 shall die."

Sir Btdivere's eyes filled with tears, and he would have spoken
but could find no words in which to clothe his remorse that his
disobedience should have in any way placed his lord's life in

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

169

jeopardy. Carefully he kneeled on one knee and taking the King's
languid hands gently i'l his own, drew them over his shoulders,
and so, rising, bore him upon his own broad back down to the
water's Jge. As they came nepr to the great mere, all shilling
in the winter moon's radiant glow, they beheld a dusky barge mov-
ing toward them. Dark as a funeral scarf it was, from stem to
stern, and the decks were thronged with black-clad forms whose
faces were hidden in black hoods. And among them were three
queens in crowns of gold — the same three queens who often
came to Arthur in his hour of need — and from them rose a wailing
cry of lamentation " that shivered to the tingling stars."

" Place me in the barge," said the King faintly, as the vessel
came close to the shore.

The bold Sir Bedivere obeyed wonderingly, giving up his pre-
cious charge to the three queens, who stretched forth eager arms
to receive their wounded King. The tallest and fairest of the
queens took his head in her Ir.p and unbound his casque, and all
three fell to chafing his hands, calling him by name, and bathing his
white face with bitter tears. And, indeed, the sight of him was
very piteous, so pale and blood-stained was he, with his glorious
curls all parched with dust and hanging with clotted points, — a
very different King from the Arthur of old who rode in shining
armor, like a star, leading his knights to the charge in war or
tournament !

Then the barge put off from t.ie shore, and Bedivere was left
alone. " Ah, my lord Arthur," he cried heart-brokenly, " whither
shall I go? Where shall I hide myself? For the old days are
dead and knightly :?lory is nc more; the Round Table is gone
forever. There have been no such times as these since the Star led
the three Wise Men to Bethlehem. But now they are gone, and
thou, too, art leaving me, and I — must I go forth into the dark-
ened days and live my life among strange men who know me
not?"

Slowly the King answered him from the barge: " The old or-

:ih

I70 THE STORY OF IDYLLS OF THE KING

der changeth, yielding place to new, and God has many ways of
accomplishing his purposes. Comfort thyself, for in me there is
no comfort to trust in. My life's work is done, and I pray t,od
to accept and purify it for Himself. And thou, if thou seest me
no more, prav for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
than this world dreams of; it is the golden chain that Imks this
earth to Heaven and the throne of God. Men are little better
than sheep and goats, if, knowing God, they lift not their heads
in prayer. But now farewell. I am going a long way with these
friends of mine. My mind is all dim, but methinks I go to the
island-valley of .Avalon, where never comes hail or snow or wind-
storms, neither does the sun's heat burn there, but all things rest
and thrive amid wooded meadows ringed round with the summer
sea. And there will I heal myself of my grievous wounds."

As the King ceased speaking, the barge moved away with oar
and sail, " like some full-breasted swan that, fluting a wild carol
ere her death, ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood with
swarthy webs." Long Sir Bedivere stood and gazed until the hull
looked like one black dot against the verge of dawn, and the wail-
ing had died away. Many memories crowded each other, but,
chief of all, he pondered on Merlin's weird rhyme: " From the
great deep to the great deep he goes." And he wondered whether
Arthur would ever come again, and wht Jier the three dark queens
in the black barge were not the same three who had stood beside
Arthur, clothed in light, when he was crowned King.

Then the stillness of the winter dawn oppressed him, and he
groaned aloud: " The King is gone." But, as he climbed the
jutting crags, he saw, or thought he saw, away in the distance, the
barge, a mere speck on the verge of dawn. And as he looked,
there was borne to his ears, from the far borders of the world, a
triumphant sound of joyful welcome, as though the people of a
great city, with one mighty voice, were rejoicing with music and
singing over the coming of their King. As he strained his eyes
beneath his arched hand, the speck vanished, and the sun burst forth

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR 171

in all his glory, bringing the new year, with its new chances and
triumphs. But Bedivere's heart was too sore for welcome, and
he trudged away over the sands, himself also journeying into the
unknown.

IDYLLS OF THE KING

IN IWI.l.VI. li(J()KS
"Flos Rfgiim .tithurus" — Josi i-H op FxFTF.R

DF.DICATION

These to His Memory — since he With « hat Mihlime repression of him-

held them dear. self,

Perchance as (inding there uncon- And in what limits, and huw tcn-

sciously derly ;

Some imajje of himself — I dedicate, Not svMiyint; to this faction or to
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears — that;

These Idylls. Nut making his high place the lawless

perch

And indeed He seems to me Of wing'd ambitions, nor a vantage-
Scarce other than my king's ideal ground

knight. For ple:isure; but thro' all this tract
" Who reverenced his conscience as of years

his king; Wearing the white flower of a blame-
Whosc glory was, redressing human less life,

wrong; Before a thousand peering littlenesses,

Who spake no slander, no, nor In that fierce light which beats upon

listen'd to it ; a tlirone,

Who loved one only and who clave And blackens every blot: for where

to her — " is he,

Her — over all whose realms to their Who dares foreshadow for an only

last isle, son

Commingled with the gloom of im- A lovelier life, a more un^tain'd, than

mincnt war, his?

The shadow of His loss drew like Or how should Fngland dreaming of

eclipse, his sons

Darkening the world. W^e have lost Hope more for these than some in-

him: he is gone: hcritance

We know him now: all narrow jcal- Of such a life, a heart, a mind as

ousies thine,

Are silent; and we see him as he Thou noble Father of her Kings

moved, to be,

How modest, kindly, all-accomplish'd, Laborimis for her people and her

wise, poor —

175

)

176

IDYLLS OF Tim KhNG

Voice In tlir rich dawn (if an anipirr

day —
Far-sithtnl sunimonrr of War and

Wa^ti'
To fruit ml stnfi-^ and rivalries of

pr.icc —
Swfft natur.- giidrd l.y the gracious

ulcani
Of Ifttcrs, dear to Scrncf, dear to

Art,
Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince

indcfil,
Beyond all titles and a housciiold

naiiii-,
Hereafter, thro' all times, Albert the

Good.

Break not, O woman's-heart, but
still endure;

Break not, for thou art Royal, but

endure,
Remembering all the beauty of that

star
Which Nlione so close beside '1 bee

that \e maile
One linht together, but has past and

leaves
'I'lic Crowi a lonely sj.iendor.

May all love.
His love, unseen but felt, o'ershadow

Thee,
The love of all Thv sons enccimpass

Thee,
The love of all Thy daughters cher-
ish Thee,
The love of all Thy people c<-mfort

The",
Till Ciud s love set Thee at his side
attain 1

THE COMING

Leodocran, the King of Cameli-

ard,
Had one fair dauRhter, and none

other child :
And she was fairest of all Hesh on

earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one deUK'"'-

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'J overseas, and harried what

was left.
And so there grew great tracts of

wilderness,
Wlicrein the beast was ever more and
more,

OF ARTHUR

But man was less and less, till Arthur

came.
For tirst Aurelius live<l and fought

and died,
And after him King Uther fought

and died.
But either fail'd to ni.ike 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,

I HI-; c()MiN(; of arihi r

177

And nonr or few tn •k-.i' or 1 liAsr thr

br;ist .
So that will! liop, atiil wolf iimI b'lar

anil l"'ar
Came niulit and day, .iiid rimtfii in

the hrlds,
And wallow 'd in the (zarilrn^ of thr

Kinn.
Atid ivcr .ind anon the wolf wmiLl

stral
The children and deMiur, but now

and then,
Her own brood lost or deail, lefit her

tierce teat
To human sucklin>;s; and the chil-
dren, housed
In bcr foul den, there at their meat

would ^rowl,
And mock their foster-mother on four

feet,
Till, strai^htenM, they grew up to

wolf-like men.
Worse than the wolves. And King

I^odogran
(jfoan'd for the Roman legions here

again, ^
And Caesar's eagle: tlK-n his brother

king,
Urien, assail'd him: last a heathen

hortie,
Reddening the sun with smoke and

earth with blood,
And on the spike that split the

mother's heart
Spitting the v.hild, brake on him, till,

amazed.
He knew not whither he should turn

for aid.

But — for he heard of Arthur

newly crown'd,
The' not without on 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 Ixrween the man and beast

we ilie. "

And Arlhur yet had done no deed

of aims,
Mut heard the rail, and came: and

( i.nnevere
Stood by the castle walls to watch

him pass;
Hut since he neither wor • on helm nor

shield
The golilen svtnbol of jiis kinglihood,
Hut rode a simple knight among his

kiu'ghts,
And many of these in richer arms

than he.
She saw him not, or m?rk'd not, if

she saw.
One among many, tho' hii face was

bare.
Hut Arthur, looking downward as he

p;ist,
Pelt the light of her eyes into his life
Smite on the sudden, yet lode on, and

pitch'd
His tents beside the forest. Then he

drave
The heathen ; after, slew the beast,

and fell'd
The forest, letting in the sun, and

made
Hroaa pathways for the hunter and

the knight
And so return'd.

For while he linger'd there,
A doubt that ever smolder'd in the

hearts
Of those great Lords and Barons of

his realm
Flash'd forth and into war: for most

of these,
CoUeaguing with a score of petty

kings,
Made head against him, crying,

" Who is he
That he should rule us? who hath

proven him

178

IDYLLS OF THE KING

King Uther's son? for lo! we look at
him, , ,

And find nor face nor Scaring, limbs
m r voice.

Are like to those of Uther whom we
knew. ,

This is the son of Gorlois, not the

King; ,

This is the so. of Anton, not the

ing.

And Arthur, rassing tlience to bat-
tle, felt
Travail, and throes and agonies ot

the life. . . r- •

Desiring to be join d with Uuine-

And thinking as he rode. Her

fathL-r said
That there between the man and beast

thev die. , . , , i

Shall I not lift he- from this land ot

beasts . , i ■ i

Up to my throne, and side by siJe

with me?
What happiness to reign a lonely

Yfxt O ye stars that shudder over

me, ,

O earth that soundest hollow under

me.

me, , ,

Vext with waste dreams!' for saving

I be join'd
To her that is the fairest under

heaven,
I seem as nothing in the mighty

world.
And cannot will my will, nor work

mv work
Wholly, nor make myscU m mine

own realm , . . , ,

Victor and lord. But uere I join d

with her,
Then might we live together as one

life.
And reigning with one wd! m every-
thing

Ha^-e power on this dark land to

lighten it,
And power on this dead world to

make it live."

Thereafter — as he speaks who tells

the tale — . , , , ,

When Arthur reach'd a held-of-b.nt-

tle bright , , • r i

With pitch'd pavilions of his ioe, the

world ,

Was all so clear ahm.t him, that he

saw , , •

The smallest rock far on the faintest

hill,
And even in high day the morning

So w'hen the King had set his banner
broad, . ,

At once from either side, with
trumpet-blast,

And shouts, and clarions shrilling
unto blood,

The long-lanccd battle let their horses

run. , . 1 ■

And now the Barons and the kings

provail'd.
And now the King, as here and there

that war
Went swaying; but the Powers who

walk the world
Made lightnings and great thunders

over him,
And dazed all eyes, till Arthur by

main might.
And mightier of his hands with every

blow.
And leading all his knighthood threw

the kings
Cavddos, Urien, Cradlemont of

Claudias, and Clanance of Northum-
berland,
'I he King Brandagoras of Latangor,
With Ang\iisant of Erin, Morganore,
And Lot of Orkney. Then, before a
voice

THE COMING OF ARTHL R

As dreadful as the shout of one who Debating — " How should I that am

sees

a king,

To one who sins, and deems himself However much he h'

lie

need.

me at my

And all the world asleep, they Give my one daughter saving to a

swerved and brake king,

Flying, and Arthur call'd to stay the And a king's son? " — lifted his voice,

brands and call'd

That hack'd among the flyers, "Ho! A hoary man, his chamberlain, to

they yield! " whom

So like a painted battle tlie war stood He trusted all things, and of him

Silenced, the living quiet as the dead, required

And in the heart of Arthur joy was His counsel: " Knowest thou aught

lord.

He laugh'd upon his warrior whom
he loved

And honor'd most. " Thou dost not
doubt me King,

So well thine arm hath wrought for
me to-day."

" Sir and my liege," he cried, " the
fire of God

Descends upon thee in the battle-
field:

I kno«- thee for my King! " Where-
at the two.

For each had warded either in the
fight,

Sware on the field nf death a death-
less love.

And Arthur said, " Man's word is
God in man :

Let chance what will, I trust thee to
the death."

Then quickly from the foughten

field he sent
Ultius, and Brastias, and Bedivere,
His new-made knights, to Ki.ig Lco-

dogran.
Saying, " H I in aught have sen'ed

thee well,
Give me thy daughter Guinevere to

wife."

of Arthur's birth?

Then spake the hoary chamberlain
and said,
" Sir King, there be but two old men

that know :
And each is twic' as old as I ; and

one
Is Merlin, the wise man thut ever

served
King Uther thro' his magic art; and

one
Is Merlin's master (so they call bim)

Bleys,
Who taught him magic ; but the

scliolar ran
Before the master, and so far, that

Bleys,
Laid magic by, and sat him down,

and wrote
All 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,
" O friend, had I been holpen half as

well
By this King Arthur as by thee to-
day,
Whom when he heard Leodogran Then beast and man had had their
in heart share of me:

IDYLLS OF THE KING

i8o

But summon here before us yet once

more , ,, ,•

Ulfms, and Brastias, and Bedivere.

Then, when they came before him,
the King said,

" I 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-

Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's
son .

And Ulf^us and Brastias answer'd,

" Aye."
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 —

"Sir, there be many rumors on this

head: i- •

For there be those who hate him in

their hearts.
Call him bascborn, and since his ways

are sweet,
And theirs are bestial, hold him less

than man:
And there be those who deem him

more than man,
And dream he dropt from heaven:

hut my beliff
In all this matter — so ye care to
learn — ,, . •

Sir, for ye know that in King Uther s

time r^ \ u

The prince and warrior Gorlois, he

that held
Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea,

Was wedded with a winsome wife,

Ygcrne:
And daughters had she borne him,—

one whereof, , ,^ ,

Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney,

Bellicent,
Hath ever like a loval 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 Gorlois,
So loathed the bright dishonor of his

love.
That Gorlois and King Uther went

to war: ^ , ■■ i

And overthrown was Gorlois and

slain.
Then Uther in his wrath and heat

besieged
Ygcrne within Tintagil, where Her

men, .

Seeing the mighty swarm about their

Left^er ^d fled, and Uther enter'd

in, ,

And there was none to call to but

himself.
So, compass'd by the power of the

King, .

Enforced she was to w^ed him in her

tears.
And with a shameful swiftness:

afterward,
Not many moons. Kin? Uther died

himself, .

Moaning and wailinp for an heir to

rule
After him, lest the realm should go to

wrack.
And that same night, the night of the

new year, .

By reason of the bitterness and griet
That vext his mother, all before his

time
Was Arthur born, and all as soon as

born
Deliver'd at a secret postern-gate
To Merlin, to be holden far apart

THE COMING OF ARTHUR

i8i

Until his hour should come; because If Arthur were the child of shame-

the lords fuhiess,

Of that fierce day were as the lords Or born the son of Gorlois, after

of this, death,

Wild beasts, and surely would have Or Uthcr's son, and born before his

torn the child time.

Piecemeal among them, had they Or whether there were truth in any-
known ; for each tiling

But sought to rule for his own self Said by these three, there came to

and hand, Cameliard,

And many hated Uther for the sake With Gawain and young Modred,

Of Gorlois. Wherefore Merlin took her two sons,

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!

Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney,

Bellicent ;
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. Vic-
tor his men
Report him! Yea, but ye — think

ye this king —
So many those that hate him, and so

strong,
So few his knights, however brave

they be —
Hath body enow to hold his foemen

down .' "

" O King," she cried, " and I will
tell thee: few.

No king of ours! a son of Gorlois Few, but all brave, all of one mind

he, with him ;

Or else the child of Anton, and no For I was near him when the sav;ige

king, yells

Or else baseborn.' \'et Merlin thro' Of Uther's peerage died, and Arthur

his craft, sat
And \\hile the people clamor'd for a Crown'd on the dais, and his war-
king, riors cried,
Had Arthur crown'd ; but after, the ' Be thou the king, and we will work

great lords thy will

Handed, and so brake out in open Who love thee.' Then the King in

^■3r. low deep tones,

. ^_ -And simple words of great authority,

Then while the King debated with Bound them bv so strait vows to his

himself own self,'

IDYLLS OF THE KL\G

182

That when they rose, kniKhted from

kneeling, some
Were nalc as at the passini; ot a

ghost,
Some flush'd, and oilicrs dazed, as

one who wakes
Half-blinded at the coming ot a light.

"But when he spake and theer'd

his Table Round
With large, divine, and comfortable

words.
Beyond my tongue to tell thee — 1

beheld , , . .^ ,

From eve lo 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 Cruci-
fied,

Down from the casement over
Arthur, smote

Flame-color, vert and azurt, in tlirce

ravs, . .

One falling upon each of three fair

queens, .

Wht 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
( )f incense curl'd about her, and her

face
Wcllnigh was hidden in the minster

i^'°"'" ' , , 111.

Hut there was heard among the holj

hymns
A voice as of the waters, for she

dwells
Down in a deep; calm, whatsoever

storms
NLiy shake the world, and when tlie

surface rolls.
Hath power to walk the watc:, like

our Lord.

" There 'ikewise I beheld Excalibur
Before him at his crowning borne,

the sword
That rose from out the bosom of the

lake.
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 ot all

this world,
'Take me,' but turn the blade and

ye shall see,
And written in the speech ye speak

yourself,
' Cast me away ! ' And sad was

Arthur's face
Taking it, bu*^ old Merlin counsel d

him,
'Take thou and svrike! the time to

cast away
Is yet far-of?.' So this great brand

the king .

Took, an 1 by this will Heat his foe-
men down.

THE COMING OF ARTHUR

183

Thereat Leodogran rcjniced, but

thought
To sift his (loubtini^s to the last, and

ask'd,
Fixinp full eyes of question on her

face,
" The s«allo>v and the swift arc near

akin,
Hut ihou art closer to thii^ noble

prince,
IJeinK his own dear sister;" and she

said,

" Dau;.'hter of Gorlois and ^'gerne
I "

"And tlierefore Arthur's sister?"

ask'd the Kinj;.
She ansver'd, " These be secret

things," and sij^n'd
To thase two sons to pass, and let

them be.
And Gawain v\cnt, and breaking into

song
Sprang out, and foUow'd by his fly-
ing hail
Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he

saw :
But Modred laid his ear beside the

doors.
And there hulf-heard; the same that

afterward
Struck for the throne, and striking

found his doom.

And then the Queen made answer,

"What know I?
For dark my mother was in eyes and

hair
And dark in hair and eyes am I ; and

dark
Was Gorlois, yea and dark was

Uthcr, 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 crv from out the dawning of my

life.

A mother weeping, and I hear her

say,
' () that ye had some brother, pretty

one.
To guard thee on the rough ways of

the world.' "

" Aye," said the King, " and hear
ye such a cry ?
But when did Arthur chance upon
thee firsr? "

"OK,!" 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
Unseen at pleasure — he was at my

side,
And spake sweet words, and com-
forted my heart.
And dried my tears, being a child

with me.
And many a time he came, and ever-
more
As I grew greater grew with me;

and sad
At times he seem'd, and sad with him

was I,
Stern too at times, and then I loved

him not.
But sweet again, and then I loved

him well.
Ai.d low of late I see him less and

less,

1 84

IDYLLS OF THE KING

But those first days had ^^olden hours

for m.',
For then 1 surely thoui;ht lie would

he 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 he fore he left his

life. ,. ,

Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay

the mage;
And when 1 enter'd told me that

himself
And Merlin ever served about the

King,
Uther, before he died; and on tlie

night
When Uther in Tintagil past away
Moaning and wailing tor 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 ha.t
the deep

And full of voices, slowly rose and

plunged
Roaring, and all the wave was in a

tlame :
And down the wave and in the tlame

was borne
A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's

feet,
Who stoopt ami caught the babe, and

cried ' The King!
}lere is an heir for Uther!' And

the fringe
Of that great breaker, sweeping up

the strand,
Lash'd at the wizard as he spake tlie

word,
And all at once all round him rose

in fire,
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 s.iying

this the seer
Went thro' the strait and dreadful

pass of death.
Not ever to be question'd any more
Save on the further side; but when

I met
Merlin, and .isk'd him if these things

w ere truth —
The shining dragon and the naked

child
Descending in the glor>- of the seas —
He laugh'd as is his wont, and an-

swer'd me
In riddling triplets of old time, and
said:

" ' Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow
in the sky!
A \()ung man will be sviser by and
■ by;

l HE COMING OF ARIHUR

i«5

An old man's wit may wander ere
he die.

Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow on

the lea!
And iruth 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 I and where is he

who Irnous?
From the great deep to the great deep

he goes.'

"So Merlin riddling anger'd me;

but thou
Fear not to give this Kin;; thine only

child,
Guinevere: £•) great bards of him

will sing
Hereafter; and dark savings from of

old
Ranging and ringing thro' the minds

of men,
And echo'd b\- old folk beside their

(ires
For comfort after their wage-work

is done.
Speak of the King; and Merlin in

our time
Plath spoken also, not in jest, and

sworn
Tho' men may wound him that he

will not die,
But pass, again to come; anci 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

7 3 "

Doubted, and drowsed, nodded and

slcDt, and saw,
Dreaming, a slope of land tliat ever

grew.
Field after field, up to a height, the

peak
Haze-hidd"n, 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

\\ind,
Strcam'd to tlie peak, and mingled

w ith 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 Utile r. and no king of

ours ; "
Till with a wink his dream was

changed, the haze
Descended, and the solid earth be-
came
As nothing, but the King stood out

in heaven,
Crown'd. And Leodogran awoke,

and sent
Ulfius, and Brastias and Bedivere,
Back to the court of Arthur answer-
ing 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.

i86

IDYLLS OF rUL KLNCJ

(For then was lattt-r Apiil) ami r<-

turn'd
Amont; the tlowrrs, Iti Ma\, with

Guinevrre.
To whom arrived, by Dubric the

high saint,
Chief of the churcli in Britain, and

before
The stateliest of her altar-shrini-., the

King
That morn was married, while in

stainless white,
The fair beginners of a nobler

time, .

And glorying in their vows and turn,

his knights
Stood round him, and rejoicing m his

joy. ,

Far shone the fields of May thro open

door,
The sai:red altar blossom'd white with

Mav, , .

The Sun of May descended on their

King,
They gazed on all earth s beauty in

their Queen,
RoU'd incense, and there pa^t along

the h\nins
A voice as of the waters, while the

two
Sware at the shrine of Christ a

deathless love:
And Arthur said, " Behold, thy doom

is mine.
Let chance what will, I love thee to

the death! "
To whom the Queen replied with

drooping eves,
" King and my lord, I love thee to

the death ! "
And holy Dubric spread his hands

and spake.
" Reign ye, and live and love, and

make the world
Other, and may thy Quoen be one

with thee.
And all this Order of thy Table
Round

Fullil the boundless purpose of their
King!"

S(, Uubric Slid ; but u hen they left
the sliiine
(Ireat Lonls from Rome before the
portal stood.

In scornful stillness gazing as they
past ;

Then while they paced a city all on
fire

With sun an.l cloth of gold, the trum-
pets blew.

And .Arthur's knighthood sang be-
fore tlie King: —

" Blow trumpet, for tlie world is

white with Ma> ;
Blow trumpet, the long night hath

nill'd away!
Blow thro' the living world — ' Let

the King reign.'

" Shall Rome or Heathen rule in

Arthur's realm?
Flash brand and lance, fall battleax

upon helm.
Fall battleax, and flash brai.al Let

the King reign.

" Strike for the Kirig and live! his

kniglits have heard
That God hath told the King a

secret word.
Fall battleax, and flash brand! Let

the King reign.

"Blow trumpet! he will lift us

from the dust.
Blow trumpet! live th^ strength and

die the lust!
Clang battleax, and clash brand!

Let the King reign.

" Strike for the King and die! and
if thou diest.
The King is King, and ever wills the

highest.

G ARK in AxND LYNEITE

.87

Clanc battleax, and clrish brami !
Let tlic Kiiiy riigii.

" Blow, for our Sun is miKhty '1;

his May!
Blow, for our Sun is miuhtier day

by day !
Clang battU'ax, and clash brand!

Let the King reign.

"The King will follow Christ,

and we the King
In whom high God hath breathed a

secret thing.
Fall battleax, and flash brand ! Let

the King reign."

So sang the knighthood, .novint, to

their hall.
There at the banquet those great

Lords from Rome,
The slowly-fading mistress of the

world,
Strode in, and claim'd their tribute

as of yore.

But Arthur spake, " Behold, for these

have sworn
To wage my wars, and worship me

their King;
The old order ch.i th, yielding

place to new ;
And we that fight for our fair father

Christ,
Seeing that ye be grown too weak

and old
To drive the heathen from your

Rciman wall,
No tribute will we pay:" so those

great lords
Drew back in wrath, and Arthur

strove 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.

THE ROUND TABLE

GARETH AND LYNETTE
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT
CERAINT AM) EMO
BAI.I.V AND BALAN
.MERLIN AND VIVIEN

GARETH AND LYNETTE

The last tall son of Lot and Belli-
cent,

And tallest, Garcth, in a showerful
spring

Stared at the spate. A slender-
shafted Pine

Lost footing, fell, and so was whirl'd
awav.

lancelot and elainb
the holy grail
pelleas and ETTARRE
the last tournament
gui.nfvere

" How he went down," said Gareth,
" as a false knight

Or evil king before my lance if
lance

Were mine to use — O senseless cata-
ract,

Bearing all down in thy precipi-
tancy —

And yet thou art but swollen with
cold snows

1 88

IDYIJS ()!• niK KING

Atul iiimr is livii.^ blcioil ; tliou iln^t

l\,s VmII,

Tlic Maker's, aiui imt know est, and

1 that kiui\\,
Have sticn^tli and wit, in nn uixnl

niiitlicr's hall
Lingpr nitli vaiillatint; ntu'ilu'iicf,
PrisonM, aiul k<pt ami loax'il aiul

wliisticd to —
Sinic till- uihkI motluT Imlils nic btill

a chilli!
Good motluT i> had mother unto nic!
A worse were better; yet no worse

wouhl I.
Heaven yield her for it, hut in me

put forte
To \\eary tier ears with one continu-
ous prayer,
Until she let me fly <liscacpd to swetp
In ever-hiKherinR ea^'le-circles up
To the great iiun of Glory, and

thence swoop
DovMi upon all things base, and dash

them dead,
A knij:ht of Arthur, workInK out his

wi'l.
To cL-ansc the world. Why, Ga-

wain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summer-
time,
Ask'd me to tilt with him. the proven

knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the

judt:e.
Then I so shook him in the saddle,
he said.
Thou hast half prevail'd against
nie,' said so — he —
Tho' Modred biting his thin lips was

mute,
For he is alway 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,

" 1 hi u art hut a wild-goose to ques-
tion It."

" 'I'lien, mother, an \e love the
child," he said,

" Heing a goose an.l rather tame than
uild,

Hear the child's stor\." " "» ca, my
well-heloved,

An 'twere hut of the gou>e .md golden

tiJKS-"

And (iareth answer'd lur with
kiniiling eyes,
" Nay, nay, good mother, but this

egg of mine
Was liner gold than an\ goost' can

hn :
I'or til is an Kagle, a royal Kagle,

laid
Almost fieyond eye-reach, on such a

palm
As glitters gilded in thy Unok ot

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 I wealthier than a leash

of kings."
But ever when he reach'd a hand to

climb,
One, that had loved him from his

childhood, caught
And stay'd him, " Climb not lest

thou break thy neck,
I charge thee by my love " and so the

boy,
Sweet mother, neither clomb, nor

brake his neck.
Hut brake his very heart in pining

for it,
Aiid past away."

(.ARhiH AM) lvnl:i ii;

189

To whom thr niotlirr saiii,
"True love, sweet sun, liail rislt tl

himself and ilimbM,
And handed down the jjulden treasure

t ) him."

And ( iaretli answer'd !ii r with

kmdiinv; e\es,
" Ciold .' said 1 L'cdd ?- — aye, tlien,

why he, or she.
Or ^^llo^(le'er it ua'-, or lialf the uuiM
Had ventured — htui the tiling 1

spake of been
Mere K"ld — but tins was all of that

true steel,
Whereof they fort;ed the biand

Kvcalibur,
And linhtnint;s piayM about it in the

storm,
And all the little fowl were Hurried

at it,
And there were cries and clashings

in the nest,
That sent him from his senses: let

ine go."

Then Bellicent bemoan'd herself

and said,
" Hast thou no pity . .on my h)neli-

ne'is ?
Lo, where thy father Lot beside the

hearth
Lies like a Ion, and all but smolder'd

out!
For ever since when traitor to the

Kinu
He fought against him in the Barons'

war,
And Arthur gave him back his terri-
tory,
His age hath slowly droopt, and now

lies there
A vet-warm corpse, and yet unburi-

■ able.
No more; nor sees, nor hears, nor

speaks, nor knows.
Ai'ii] both thy brethren ,. e in Arttiur's

hall.

Albeit neither lovi'd « itii that lull

h,ve
I feel for thee, nor worthy such a

love :
Stay therefore thou; red ber.iei

I harm tlie bird.
And thee, nune innocent, the jnusts,

the v\ar-.,
Who never knew est (mger-ache, nor

pang
Of wrench'd or broken limb — an

often ( ham e
In tliose brain-stunning sh(Kks, ami

tourney-falls,
Frights to my heart; but stay: follow

tlie deer
By the^e tall firs and our fast-falling

Inirn^ ;
So make thy maidiiKxl mightier ilay

by da> ;
Sweet is the chase: and I will seek

thee out
Some comfortable bride and fair, tu

grace
Thy climbing life, and cherish my

prone year,
Till falling into Lot's forgetfulness
I know not thee, myself, nor any-
thing.
Stay, my best son! ye are yet more

boy than man."

Then Garcth, " An ye hold me yet

for child,
Hear yet once more the story of the

child.
For, mother, there was once a King,

lik" ours.
The prints his heir, when tall and

marriageable,
Ask'il for a bride; and thereupon the

King
Set two before him. One was fair,

strong, arm'd —
But to be ^von by force — and many

men
Desired her ; one, good lack, no man

desired.

190

IDYLLS OF 1 HL KINCJ

And tlir<e were tlu- i.uii,litions of tlif

That savr he uon tlic tlr^t hy tour,

he ni-fiU
Must wfd th:U other, whom no man

dfsircil,
A red-faced hrlde wlio knew lierselt

so vih-.
That evermore ^he hink;M to huh' her-
self,
Nor fronted man or wonun, eye to

eye —
Yea — some she cleaved to, but they

died of her.
And one — they call'd her tame;

and one,— () Mother,
How can ye keep me tetlier a to you

— Shame.
Man am I grown, a man's work must

I do- ,, .

Follow the deer? follow the Christ,

the Kinc,
Live pure, speak true, ri^ht 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, vvhollj' proven

King —
Albeit in mine own heart I knew him

King, .

When I was frequent with him in

my vouth.
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?
Stay, till the cloud that settles round
his birth

Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweat

And Ciareth answer'd (juickly,

" Not an hour,
So tliat >e yield me — I uiH "alk

thro' fire.
Mother, to gain it — your full leave

to go.
Not proven, who swept the dust of

niin'd Rome
From off tin- threshohl of the realm,

and crush'd
Tlie Idolaters, and made the in'.iple

free?
Who should he Kiiig 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' tire?
Who walks thro' tire will hardly heed

the sinoke.
Aye, go then, an ye must: only one

proof,
Hefore thou ask the King to make

thee knight.
Of thine obedience ami thy love to

Thy mother, — I demand."

And Gareth cried,
" A hard one, or a humlred, so I go.
js'ay — quick! the proof to prove me
to the quick! "

But slowly spake the mother look-
ing at ' im,

•' Prince, tl.ou shalt go disguised to
Arthur'^ hall,

And hire thv-elf to serve lor meats
and drinks

uAKi;rn and LVM:riE

191

Amonn till- Miillions aiul tlir Ititclirn- S^Mjit brlldvv inn thro' the ilarkiirsj

kii.ui'N, *»> to >''>^^ "'

And thr)>r that liand the lll^h iu ro>,s lie rij>r, aiicl out i)f bluniher callm;;

the har. tuo

Nor ^half ihnw trll th\ fiamr tii any- That »till hail trndrd (in hini trnni

one. lii> hirth,

And thiiii shalt MTV I- a twelvriiionth Mefore tlir walicful mother heard

and a d.\y

For so tlie (Jiirrn hlievej that
when her sun

Helield his only " :i.V tn t;l(iry h-ad

Low do«ti thr(/ vilhiin kitclien-
vassala;:e,

Her own ttur (jarrth vvas too prince-
ly-proud

To pass thereby ; so sliould he rest
with her,

Closed in her cast!.- from the sound
of arms.

Silent awliile was Garetti, then

reph'ed,
" The thrall in person may be free in

soul,
And I shall see the jmists. Thy son

am I,
And since thou art my mother, must

obey.
I therefore yield me freely to tliv

will;
For hence will I, disfjuised, and hire

myself
To serve with scullions ami uith

kitchen-knaves ;
Nor tell mv name to any — no, not

the KinR."

him, went.

The three were clad like tillers of
the soil.

Southward they set their faces. The
birds iiiadi

.Melody on brincb, and melody in
mid air.

'I'lie damp lull-slopes were (niickrn'd
into ^rcen,

And the li\e urecii hail kinilled into
flowers,

For '.. was past the time of Easter-
day.

So, when their feet uere planted

on the plain
That broaden'd toward the base of

Catnelot,
Far off till) S.U.- ibe silver-misty

morn
K dlinf^ her smoke about the Royal

mount.
That rose between the f(jrcst and the

field.
At times the sumnn't of the hi;;h city

Ihish'd;
.At times the spires and turrets half-
way dow n
Prick'd thro' th- mist: at times the

greai j^ate shone

Gareth awhile lin;ier'd. The moth- Only, that open'd on the field be-
er's eye low :

F^ill of the wistful fear that he would Anon, the whole fair city had dis-

jro, _ appear'u.

And turninK toward him wheresoe'er

he turn'd. Then those who went with Gareth

Perplext his outward purpose, till an were amazed,

hour, One crvinp, " Let us po no further,

When waken'd by the wind which lord.

with full voice Here '•■ a city of I^nchanters, built

192

By fairy Kings." The second echo'd
him,

" Lord, we have heard from our wise
man at home

To Northward, that this King is not
ihe King,

But only changeling out of Fairy-
land,

Who drave the heathen hence by
sorcery

And Merlin's glamour." Then the
first again,

" Lord, there is no such city any-
where,

But all a vision."

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Gareth answer'd them
With laughter, swearin^, l.v. hi 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

the gate.
And there was no gate like it under

heaven.
For barefoot on the keystone, which

'. as lined
And rippled like an ever-fleeting

uave,
The Lady of the Lake stood : all her

dress
Wept from her sides as water flowing

aw ay ;
But like the cross her great and

goodly arms
Stretch'd under all the cornice and

uphe'd :
And drops of water fell from either

liand ;
And down from one a sword was

hung, from one
A censer, either worn v.ith wind and

storm ;
And o'er her brea,,t 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 yXrtiuir, who should help him at

hi.- need.

Then those with Gareth for so

long a space
Stared at the figures, that at last it

seem'd
The dragon-boughts and elvish rm-

blemings
Began to move, seethe, twine and

curl: they catl'd
To Gareth, " Lord, the gateway is

alive."

And Gareth likewise on them fixt

his eyes
S( long, thit 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,
WHio leaving share in furrow come

to see
The glories of our King: but these,

my men,
(Your city moved so weirdly 'n the

mist)

GARETH AND LYNETTE

193

Doubt if the King be King at all, or

come
From Fairj'land; and whether tliis 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 hun
And saying, " Son, I hav..' seen the

good ship sail
Keel upward, and mast downward,

in tlie heavens.
And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air:
And here is truth ; but an it please

thee not.
Take tliou 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 moun-
tain-cleft
Toward the sunrise, each with harp

in hand,
And built it to the music of their

harps.
And, as thou sayest, :t is enchanted,

son.
For there is nothing in it as it seems
Saving the King; the' 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 en'nantments, 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

held.
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."

Gareth spake
Anger'd, " Old Master, reverence

thine own beard
Tliat looks as white as utter trutli,

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 Riddling of

the Bards?
' Confusion, and illusion, and rela-
tion.
Elusion, and occasion, and evasion'?
I 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;

IDYLLS OF THE RING

194

Whom Garcth looking alter said,
" My nicn,

Our one white lie sits like a little
ghost

Here on the threshold of our enter-
prise. . I

Let love be blamed for it, not sae,
nor 1 : ^^

Woll, 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 ti.:

work
Of ancient kings who did their days

in stune;
Which Merlin's hand, the Mage at

Arthur's court.
Knowing all arts, had touch'd, and

every\.here
At Arthur's ordinance, tipt with

lessening peak
And pinnacle, and had made it spire

to heaven.
And ever and anon a knight would

Outward, or inward to the hall: his

arms
Clash'd; and the sound was goi.d to

Gareth's ear.
And out of bower and casement shyly

glanced
Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars

of love;
And all about a healthful people

stept .

As in the presence of a gracious king.

Then into hall Garcth ascending
heard

A voice, the voice of Artliur, and be-
held

Far over heads in that long-vaulted
hall ^ ,

The splendor of the presence ot the

King

Throned, and delivering doom — and

look'd no more —
Hut felt his young heart hammering

in his ears.
And thought, " For this half-shadow

of a lie
The truthful King will doom me

when 1 speak."
\'et pressing on, tho' all in fear to

tind
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 eve-'more 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'cr at first he prof!er d

gold,
'^ct, for the field was pleasant in our

eves,
We yielded not; and then he reft us

of it
Perforce, ind left us neither gold

nor field."

Said Arthur : " Whether would
ye? gold or field? "

To whom the woman weeping,
" Nay my lord.

The field was pleasant In my hus-
band's eye."

And Arthur, " Have thy pleasant
field again.

GARETH AND LYNETTE

lys

And thrice the gold for Utlier's use "A boon, Sir Kin^;! ev'n tliat thou

thereof, grant her none,

According to the years. No boon is This railcr, that hath nioclc'd thee in

.lere, full hall —

But justice, so thy say be proven true. None; or the wholesome boon of

Accursed, who from the wrongs his gyve and gag."
father did

Would shape himself a right!" But Arthur, "We sit King, to

help the wrong'd

And while she past. Thro' all our realm. The woman

Came yet another widow crying to loves her lord.

Peace to thee, woman, with thy loves

and hates!
T tie kings of old had doom'd thee to

the flames,
Aurelius Lmrys would have scourged

thee dead.
And Uthcr 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 liere, that I may judge

the right,
According to the justice of the King:

him,
"A boon. Sir King! Thine enemy,

King, am I.
With thine own hand tliou slewest

my dear lord,
A knight of Uther in the Barons'

war.
When Lot and many another rose

and f(. Light
Against thee, saying thou uert basely

born.
I held with these, and loathe to ask

thee aught.
Yet lo! my husbands brotlier had

my son
Thrall'd in his castle, and hath

starved him dead ;
And standeth seized of that inherit- Then, be he guilty, by that deathless

ance King

Which thou that slewest the sire hast Who lived and died for men, the

left the son. man shall die."

So tho' I scarce can ask it thee for

hate, Then came in hall the messenger

Grant me some knight to do the bat- of Mark,

tie for me, A name of evil savor in the land.

Kill the foul thief, and wreak nie for The Cornish king. In either hand
my son.' he bore

What dazzled all, and shone far-ofl

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, ami knelt.
Then came Sir Kay, the seneschal, Delivering, that his lord, the vassal
and cried, king,

Then strode a good knight for-
ward, cr\ing to him,

"A boon. Sir King! I am her kins-
man, L

Give me to right her wrong, and
slay the man."

196

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Was cv'n upon his way to Camelot ;
For liaviiig heard that Arthur of his

grace . .

Had made his goodly cousin, 1 n;.-

trani, 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 to rend the

cloth, to rer.
In pieces, and so cas, it on the

hearth. _ ,

An oak-tree smolder d th-re. 1 ne

goodlv knight! , ,, I

What! shall the shie!d__ of Mark

btand among these?"
For, midway down the side of that

long hall
A stately pile,— whereof along the

front.
Some blazon'd, some but car^■en,

and some blank.
There ran a treble range of stony

shields, — , ' 1

Rose, and high-archmg overbrow d

the hearth.
And under every shield a knight was

named: . ,.

For this was Arthur's custom in his

hall; , ^ , ,

When some good knight had done

one noble deed.
His arms were carven only; but if

His arms were blazon d aUo; but it
none, . ,

The shield was blank and hare wnth-
out a sign

Saving the name beneath; and tiar-
eth saw

The shie'd of Gawain blazon'd rich

and bright.
And Modred's blank as death; and

Arthur cried
To rtnd the cloth and cast it on the

hearth.

" More like are we to reave him
of his crown
Th'.i mak- 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, mer-
ciful,
Truth-speaking, brave, good livers,

them we enroU'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

Return, 'and meet, and hold him
from our eyes, _

Lest we should lap him up m cloth
of lead.

Silenced forever — craven — a mar
of plots, .

Craft, poisonous counsels, wayside
ambushings —

No fault of thine: let Kay the senes-
chal ,

Look to thy wants, and send thee
satisfied —

Accursed, who strikes nor lets the
h;>nd be seen! "

And many anoth.-r suppliant crying
cam.e ,

With noise of ravage wrought by
beast and man,

An^ evermore a knight would ride
awav.

GARETH AND LYNEITE

197

Last, Gareth leaning both hands A horse thou Itnowest, a man thou

hea-vily dost not know:

Down on the shoulders of tlie twain, Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair

his men, and fine,

Approacli'd between them toward the High nose, a nostril large and tine,

King, and ask'd, and hands

"A boon. Sir King (his voice was Large, fair and fine! — Some young

all ashame'i), lad's mystery —

For see yc not how weak and hun- But, or from sheepcot or king's hall,

ger-worn the boy

I seem — leaning on these? grant me Is noble-natured. Treat him with

to serve all grace.

For meat and drink among thy Lest he should come to shame thy

kitchen-knaves judging of him."
A t'velvemonth and a day, nor seek

my name. Then Kay, " What murmurest

Hereafter I will fight." thou of mystery?

Think yc this fellow will poison the

To him the King, King's dish?

"A goodly youth and worth a N^V. ^°' ^,^ ^P^l^' ^oo fool-like:

goodlier boon! ^ mystery! „ ^ u _.

But so thou wilt no goodlier, then ^ "*- an die lad were noble, he had

must Kay,

The master of the meats and drinks,
be thine."

ask'ii
For horse and armor: fair and fine,

forsooth !

Sir Fine-face, Sir Fair-hands? but

IT 1 1. i^ see thou to it

He rose and past; then Kay, a man „, , . ^ r 1 ..

, . "^ ' ■" That thme own fineness, Lancelot,

of mien /- >

,,, ,, ^, 1 . .1 .. i 1 some hne day

Wan-sa ow as the plant that leels it j .u » j 1

. ,t^ ' Undo thee not — and leave my man

itself
Root-bitten by white lichen,

to me.

So Gareth all for glory underwent

" Lo ye now! Yhe sooty joke of kitchen-vassalage;

This fellow hath broken from some Ate with young lads his portion by

Abbey, v\ here, the door,

God wot, he had not beef and brewis And couch'd at night with grimy

enow, kitchen-knaves.
Howeier that might chanct! but an And Lancelot ever spake him pleas-
he work, antlv,
Like any pigeon will I cram his crop, gyt Kay the seneschal, who loved him
And sleeker shall he shine than any p(,t:_

''og. Would hustle and harry him, and

labor him

Then Lancelot standing near, " Sir Beyond his comrade of the hearth,

Scne:\hal, and set

Sleuth-hojni! t^liou kno'.- ,st, and To tiirn the broach, draw water, cr

gray, and all the hounds; hew wood,

■>l

198

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Or grosser tasks; and Gi'.rfth buw'd

liiinsi'lf
With all I'U-JiciKc to the Kin/, and

wrought
All kind of service with a noble case
That graced the lowliest act in doing

And when the thralls had talk am<jng

themselves,
And one would praise the love that

linkt the King
And Lancelot — how the King had

saved his lite
In battle twice, und Lancelot once

tlio King's —
For Lancelot was the fust in Tour-
nament,
But Arthur rnigliticst on the battle-
field —
Gareth was glad. ()r if some other

told,
How once the wandering forester at

dawn.
Far over the blue tarns and hazy

seas,
On Caer-Fryri's highest found the

King,
A naked babe, of whom the Pro let

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 m-x'k'd, but, after,

re\irenced him.
Or Gareth telling some prodigious

tale
Of knights, who sliced a red iite-

bubbling way
Thro' twenty folds of twisted drag-
on 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

\\ ind
Among dead leaves, and drive them

all apart.
Or when the thralls had sport among

themselves,
So there were any trial of mastery,
lie, 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 he

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 cas-
tle, sent.

Between the in-crescent and de-cres-
cent 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 tour-

nev once,
When both were children, and in

lonely haunts
Would scratch a ragged oval on the

sand,
.And e.ich at either dash from either

end —

G VRETH AND LYNETTE

199

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 otlier's —

na}-, tlie Kinjl's —
Descend into the city:" whereon he

souj^ht
The King alone, and found, and told

him all.

" I have stagger'd thy strong;

Gax^ain in a tilt
For pastime; yea, he said 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 tlie King's calm eye
Fell on, and check'd, and made him

flush, and bow
Lowlv, to kiss his hand, who an-

swer'd him,
" Son, the good mother lit me know

thee here,
And sent her wish that I would yield

thee thine.
Make thee my knight? my knights

are sworn to vous
Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness,
And, loving, utttr faithfulness 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 ve gave me to, tlie Senes-
chal,

No mellow master of the meats and

drinks!
And as for love, God wot, 1 love not

yet.
Hut love 1 sliall, God udling.

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 Lancelo*- 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,
And the deed's sake my knighthood

do the deed,
Than to be noised of.

Merrily Gareth ask'd,
" Have I not earn'd my cake in oak-

ing of it ?
Let be my name until I make my

name!
ALv deeds will speak: it is but for a

So with a kindly hand on Gareth s

arm
Smiled the great King, and half-un-

wiUingly
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 h:ill,
Thou get to horse and follow him far

away.

200 IDYLLS OF THE KING

Cover the lions on thy shirUl, and

Far as thou mayfst, he lu' nor ta'en

nur slain."

Then that same (lav there past Into

the hall
A damsel of hi^h lineage, and a brow
May-blossom, and a cheek of appk-

blossom,
Hawk-eyes; and lightly was her .'.n-

der nose
Tip-tilted like the petal cf a Hower ;
She into hall past with her page and

tried,

" O King, for thou hast driven the

foe without.
See to the foe within! bridge, ford,

beset
By bandits, everyone that owns a

tower
The Lord for half a league. V.liy

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 best blood it is a sin to
spill."

" Comfort thyself," said Arthur,

" I nor mine
Rest: so my knighthood keep ihe

vows they swore,
The wiistest moorland of our realm

shall be
Safe, damsel, as the center oi 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
Defcnil the passings, brethren, and a

fourth
And of t!,at 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 o\er-

throw.
Then wed, with glory: but she will

not wed
Save whom she loveth, or a holy life.
Now therefore have I come for

Lancelot."

Then Arthur mindful of Sir

(jareth ask'd,
" Damsel, ye know this Order lives

to crush
All wrongers of the Realm. Hut

say, these four.
Who be they? What the fashion of

the men ? "

" They be 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 mo-
ment, such

As have nor law nor king; and three
of these

Proud in their fantasy call themselves
the Day,

GARETH AND LYNETTE

20I

Morninc-Star, and Noon-Sun, and

\'.\i iiinn-Star,
Bcinj; stronj; fools; and never a wtiit

mnri' wise
The fourth, who alway ridetii ^rmM

in hlaik,
A hu^;e man-beast of boundless sav-

HKery.
He names himself the Ninht and

oftenrr Dcatli,
And wears a helmet mounted with a

skull,
And hears a skeleton tit^urcd on his

arms.
To sh(;w that v\ho may slay or seape

the three,
Slain by himself, shall enter endless

ni^ht.
And all these four he fools, but

nii[ihty men,
And tliercforc am I come for Lance-
lot."

Hereat Sir Garcth call'd from

where he rose
A head w ith kindling eyes above the

throng,
"A boon, Sir King — this quest!"

then — foi he mark'd
Kay near him groaning like a

uoundcd bull —
" Yea, King, thou knowest thy

kitchen-knave am I,
And mighty thro' thy meats and

drinks am I,
And 1 can topple over a hunilred

such.
Thy promise, King," and Arthur

glancing 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 a^k'd for thy

chief knight.
And thou hast given me but a

kitchen-kna\e."
Then ere a man In hall could stay

her, turn'd.
Fled down the lane of access to the

King,
Took horse, descended the slope

street, and past
The weird white gate, and paused

without, beside
The held of tourney, murmuring

" 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 lordl> stair-
way 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 this

entry fled
The damsel in her wrath, and on to

this
Sir Gareth strode, and saw without

the door
Kuig 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 fol-

low'd him :

.. !■•

. ^

202

IDYLLS OF THE KING

This bare a iiiaiilcn •^hicKl, a i'as(iiic ;

that hchi
The horse, till- spear; uhctcat Sir

(^arcth Idcisril
A cloak that ilropt from inllar-honc

to lire!,
A cloth of rou^ln-st utli, an. I cast it

dow n,
And from it like a fucl-MiK.thcrM

lire,
That look, half-ih-ail. brake brinlil,

and '.lash il a- those
Dull-cor.ted thln:;s, that makinu -lide

apart
Their dusk uinn-cases, all beiuath

there burns
A jewel'd liariiess. ere tliex pass and

fly- . .

So Gareth ere he parted Hash d ui

arms.
Then as he donii'd the helm, and t(jok

the shield
And mounted liorse and t;raspt a

spear, of j:rain
Storm-stren'f^then'd on a wuiily site,

and tipt
With trenchant ste<d, around him

slowly prest
The people, while from out of

kitchen came
The thralls in tliron-, and seeint; who

had v\ork'd
Lustier than any, and w horn they

could but lo\e.
Mounted in arn.s, threw up their

caps and cried,
" God blfss the Kint:, ami all his

fellowship! "
And on thro' lanes of shouting

Gareth rode
Down the slope street, and past with-
out the j;ate.

So Gareth past with joy; but as
the rur
Pluikt from the cur he fiu'bts with,
ere his cause

He cool'd by linhtin^', follous, bein^;

named,
\i\> ouner, !)ut remembers all, «nd

j; row Is
Rememberint:, so Sir Kay beside the

door
Mutter'd in scorn of Gareth whom

he used
1 o harry and hustle.

" Hound upon a quest
With horse and arms — the King

hath past his time —
My scullion knave! Thralls to your

work a^ain,
l"or an your (ire be lou ve kindle

mine!
Will there be dawn in West and eve

in Kast?
Hetjone ! — my knave ! — belike and

like rnou-
Some old head-blow not heeded in

his youth
So shook his wits they wander in his

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.
Till peacock'd up with Lancelot's

noticing.
Well — I will after my loud knave,

and learn
Whether he know me for his master

\et.
( )ut 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 said,
" Kay, wlierefore wi!t thou go
a;:a!nsr the King,

GARKlll AM) I.VNETTE

203

I'or that ilid nrvrr In- wlu-rcoti ye

rail,
Uut cvt-r meekly serveil the Kliin in

thee ?
Abide; taicc (.■oun-.ci ; tHr tliii lad is

treat
And lu>.ty, and know inn Ixilli ot lance

and sword."
" Tut, tell not me," said Kay, " je

are overline
To mar stout knaves v\itli l(X)ll^h

courtesies: "
Then mounteil, un thro' silent laces

rode
Down the slope cit>, and out l)ejond

the gate.

But by the field of tourney lint;er-

injj yet
Mutter'd the damsel, " Wherefore

did the Kin^
Scorn me? for, were Sir Lancelot

lackt, at least
He minht have yielded to me one of

those
Who tilt for lady's love and j^lory

here,
Rather than — () sweet heaven! ()

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-Hesh'd a^;aric in
the holt.

And deems it carrion of some wood-
land thing,

Or shrew, or weasel, nipt her slender
nose

With petulant thumb and finger,
shrilling, " Hence!

Avoid, thou smellest all of kitchen-
grease.

And look u lio ciiiie> behind, " for

there \\d> Ka> .
" Knnuest tho'.i not me.' thy master?

I atii Ka\.
V\'e huk tlire by the hearth."

.Anil ( iareth to him,
" .\I.l^ler no more! ton urll 1 kn(jvv

thee, a\e —
The most ungentle knight in .Arthur's

hall."
" Have at thn- then," saiil Kay:

they shoikd, and Kay
Kell slioulder-slipf, and (iareth cried

again,
" Lead, and I follow, " and fast away

she tied.

Hut after sod and shingle ceased

to lly
Behind her, and the heart of her good

horse
Wps 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!
— to me

Thou smellest all of kitchen as be-
fore."

" Damsel," Sir Gareth answer'd

gently, " say
Whate'er ye will, lu'. whatsoe'er ye

say,
I lea\ e not till I finish this fair

quest,
Or die therefore."

IDVI.I.S OF VliV. KlNCi

204

" A>T, wilt thou lmi>li 1' ?
Swfrt lorii, how hkf a noble IttUi^ht

lu- I;.lk^!
Thf li>tfnmkj r'^ur liath ^.nu;ht the

manner ot it.
Hut, kiiaw, anon thou ^halt hr nift

with, knavr,
And then by sucli a one that thou for

all
The Ititihrn brew i^ that was ever

Shalt not oiue dare to look him 111
the t..ce."

" 1 >hall assay," said Clareth with
a •-null'

That madden'd her, and away >he
thibh'd a^ain

Down the lonn avenues of a bound-
less wood.

And Gareth, follow in^; was at;ain bc-
knaved.

" Sir Kitehcn-knave, 1 have missM

the only way
V ' '(' Arti.ur ■ mtn arr set alon^

the wood ;
The wood is ni^h as full <if thieves

as leaves :
If both be slain, 1 am rid of thee;

but yet,
Sir Scullion, canst thou use that spit

of thine?
Fight, an thou canst. 1 have miss d

the only way."

So till the dusk that foUow'd cvcn-

Rode on the two, reviler and reviled,
Then after one [on^ slope was

mounted, saw,
Bowl-shaped, thro' tops of many

thousand pines
A t^loomy-pladed hollow slowly sink
To wcstw ard — In the deeps whereof

a mere,
Round as the red eye of an Eajjle-

owl,

Under the hall dead sunvt ^.ared;

and shouts
Ascended, and there brake a sir.int;-

nian
Flyinn from out of the hi a. k wood,

and iryinj;,
" They have bo\ind ni.\ lord to cist

hiiii in the mere."
Then t;areth, " Uouiul am I to right

the w lon^rM,
Hut straitlier hound am 1 ti. hiilc

with thee.
And whe.i the damsel ^pak.• C(jn-

temptuc'.sly,
" I,cad, and 1 ''jllow," Careth cried

attain,
■• Tollow, I lead! " so down among

the pines
He plunjied; and there, black-
shadow M nit;h the mer<-,
.And :nid-thitih-dcip in bulruslus and

reed,
Saw six ta.l men hailing a seventh

along,
A stone about hi-, neck to di iwn Inm

in it.
\ - xvith >:'od blows he (uie ed,

but three
Fled thro' the pines; and ( lareth

loosed the stone
From otf his neck, then in the mere

beside
Tumbled it; oilily bubbled up the

mere.
Fast, Gareth loosed his bonds and

on free feet
Set him, a stalwart Baron, Arthur's
friend.

" Well that ye came, or else these
caititi' rogues

Had wreak'd themselves on me;
good cuuse is theirs

To hate me, for my wont hath ever
been

To catch my thief, and then like ver-
min here

GAKinii AND LVM ' I !•:

205

Drown him, and vMtli a -.tour abmit

his tirck ;
And under this wan u.iti-r in.i/iy of

thrill
Lie rottiDi:, but at m^ht Irt nu tlir

s'DIir,

And ri;>f, and fhiLi.inn in a fcttiinly

liijht
Dance on the inrr-. ( imxl nou , ye

have >,i\rt\ a litr
Worth so.urwhat as t!ie clransrr of

this wood,
And tain would I in\ lui thee wor-

shipfuli).
What guerdon will \c ? "

darct'. sharply *pake,
" None! for the deed's sak.r have I

iliine the deed,
In utterinobt obedience to tlie Kinv;.
Hut wilt thou yield this damsel har-
borage? "

Whereat the Raroii sayin^r, " I

well believe
■^Ou he of Arthur's Table," a lit;ht

lau^h
Broke from Lynette, " Aye, trulj of

a truth,
And in a sort, heinj; Arthur's

k'tLhen-knave ! —
Hut deem not 1 accept thee au^'ht the

more,
Scullion, for runnini; sharply with

thy spit
Down on a rout of craven foresters.
A thresher with his tiail had scat-

ter'd them.
Nay — for thou sinellest of the

kitchen still.
Rut an this lord will yield us iiarbor-

age,
Well."

So ' spake. A lenpie beyond
the wood,
.-Ml in a full-fair manor and a rich.

His towers where that dav a feast

had been
field in hiKh hall, and many a v. and

lett,
Anil m.iiiy a costly catr, received the

three.
.And there they placed a peacock in

his pride
Hetorr the damsid, and tin- Haron set
Cjareth beside iirr, but at once she

rose.

" Meseeins, that iiere is much dis-
courtesy,

Settint; this kna.e, Loid Haron, at
ni) siile.

Hear me — this morn I stood in
.Arthur's hall.

And pra\'d the Kin^; would grant
nie Lancelot

To fight the brotherh(X)d of Day and
Night —

The last a nion-"er unsubduablc

Of any save of him for whom I
call'd —

Suddenly bawls this frontless kitchen-
knave,

'The quest is mine; thy kitchen-
knave am L

And mighty thro' thy meats and
drinks am L'

Then Arthur all at once gone mad
replies.
Go therefore,' and so gives tiie
quest to him —

lilm — hi-re — a villain fitter to
siIc'k swine

Than ride abroad redressing women's
wrong.

Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman."

Then half-asliamed and part

amazed, the loril
Now look'd at one and now at other,

left
The damsel by the peacock in his

pride,

2o6

IDYLLS OF IH1-: KING

And, scatiiiR CiauTli at anntluT

boaril,
Sat down hfikle him, ate and tlu-n

bej^aii.

" Friend, whether thou W kitchen-
knave, or nut,

Or whether it be tlie maiden's fan-
tasy,

And whether she be mad, or else the

Kins:, ,

Or both or neitlier, or tliyseit be

mad,
1 ask not: but tliou strikest a strong

stroke,
For stronsi thou art and goodly there-

witlial.
And saver of niy life; and therefo-'c

now.
For tiere be mighty men to joust

witli, weigh
Whether thou wilt not with thy dam-
sel back
'Fo crave again Sit Lancelot of the

King.
Thy pardon; I but speak for thme

avail,
The saver of my life."

And t^lar^-th said,
" F '1 pardon, but 1 follow up the

quest.
Despite of Dav and Ni-ht and Death

and Hell."

So when, next morn, the lord

whose life he saved
Had, some hriel space, convey'd them

on their w a>"
And left thcni with (^,od-speed. Sir

Garcth spake,
"Lead, and I follow." llaughtdy

she replied,

"I fly no more: T allow thee for
an hour.
ijion ano stoat iia\t .....j . r-^
knave,

In time of flood. Nay, furthermore,
methiiiks

Some ruth is mine for thee. Back
\\ilt thou, fool ?

For iiard by here is one will over-
throw

And slay thee: then will I to court
again.

And shame the King for only yield-
ing me

My champion from the ashe-s of his
iiearth."

To whom Sir Gareth answer'd

courteously,
" Say thou thy say, ar.d I will do my

deed.
Allou- me for mine hour, and thou

wilt find
My fortunes all as fair as hers who

lay
Among the ashes and weaded the

King's son.'

Then to the -hore of one of those
hjng loops
Wherethro' the serpent river cod d,

thev came.
Rough-thicketcd were the banks and

steep ; the stream
Full, narrow; this a bridge of single

arc
'Fook at a leap; and on the further

side
Arose a silk pavilion, gay v.ith gold
In streaks and rays, and all Lent-lily

in hue.
Save that the dome was purple, and

above,
Crimson, a slender banneret flutter-
ing.
And thercbefore the lawless warrior

paced
Unarm'd, and calling, " Damsel, is

'his he.
The champion thou hast brouglit

from Arthur's hall?

GAREril AND LYNETTE

2(7

For whom we let thee pass." '' Nuy,
nay," she said,

" Sir Morning-btar. 1'he Kin^ 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 ihcc sud-
denly,

And slay thee una:ni'd: he is not
knight but knave."

Then at his call. '' O dau;;iur;s of

the Dawn,
And servants of the Morniiijz-Star,

approach,
Arm me," frora out the silkeii cur-
tain-folds
Bare-footed and bar? headed three

fair girls
In gilt and rosy raiment came: their

feet
In dewv grasses glisten'd ; and the

hair
All over glanced with dcudrnp or

with gem
Like sparkles in the stone Av.inturine.
These arm'd him in blue arms, and

gave a shieul
Wue also, and thereon the morning

star.
And Gareth silent gazed upon the

knight,
Who stood a moment, ere liis lioise

was brovight.
Glorying; and in the stream beneath

him, shore
Immingled with Heaven's a/ure

waveringly,
The gay pavilion and the naked feet.
His arms, the rosv raiment, and the

star.

Tiien she that watch'd him,
"Wherefore stare ye so?
Thnu shakest in thy fear: there yet

is time:

Flee do\Mi the valley before he get to

lior.se.
Who will cry shame? Thou art not

knight but knave."

Said Gareth, " Damsel, whether

knave or knight.
Far liefer had I fight a score of

times
1 ban hear thee so nu'ssay me and

revile.
Fair words were best for him who

tights ftrr thee ;
15ut truly foul are better, for tliev

send
'Fhat strength of anger thro' mine

arms, I know
That I shall overthrow lu'm."

And he that bore
Tlie star, when mounted, cried from

o'er the bridge,
" A kitchen-knave, and sent in scorn

of me!
Such fight not I, but answer scorn

w'th scorn.
For this were shame to do him

further wrong
Than set him on his feet, and take

his horse
And arms, and so return him to the

King.
Conie, therefore, leave thy lady

lightly, knave.
Avoid : for it besce.-^ not a knave
To ride with sucl .

" Dog, 'hou liest.
I spring from loftier lineage than

thine own."
He spake; and all at fiery speed the

two
Shock'd on the central bridge, and

either spear
Hent but not brake, and either knight

at once,
nurl'il as a stone from out of a

catapult

, i

2()8

IDYLLS OF THE K \G

Beyond his horse's crupper and the

bridjie.
Fell, as it dead ; but quickly rose and

drew,
And Gareth lash'd so li.-iccly with

his brand
He drave his enemy backward down

the bridge,
The damsel cryln-,^ " Well-stricken,

kitclien-kna\e! "
Till Garcth's shield was cloven ; hut

one stroke
Laid him that clove it grovelin>^ on

the ground.

Then cried tlie fall'n, " Take not
niv life: I 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." " Dam-
sel, thy charge
Is an abounding pleasure to me.

Knight,
Thy life is thine at her command.

Arise
And quickly pass to Arthur's hall,

and say
His kitchen-knave bath 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 1 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 twenty-fold." And then

she sang,
"'O morning star' (not that tall

felon there
Whom thou by sorcery or unhappi-

ness
Or some device, hast foully over-
thrown),
' O morning star that smi!e^t in the

blue,
O star, my morning ilieam hath

proven true.
Smile swe:tly, thou! my love hath

smiled on me.'

" But thou begone, take counsel,

and away.
For hard by here is one that gu irds

a ford —
The second brother in their foil's

parable —
Will pay thee all thy wages, and to

boot.
Care not for shpme: thou art not

knight but knave."

To whom Sir Gareth answer'd,

laughingly,
"Parables? Hear a parable of the

knave.
When I was kitchen-knave among

the rest
Lierce was the hearth, and one of my

co-mates
Own'd a rough dog, to whom he cast

his coat,
' Guard it,' and there wns none to

meddle \\ith it.

GARETH AND LYNETTE

209

And such a coat art thou, and thee

tlic King
Gave me to K^^rd, and sucli a dog

am I,
To worrj', anl not to flee — and —

kmV'lit or knave —
The knave that doth thee service as

full knight
Is all as good, mcseems, as any

knight
Toward thy sister's freeing."

" A>e, Sir Knave!
Aye, knave, because thou strikest as

a knight,
Being but knave, I hate thee all the

more."

" Fair damsel, you should worship
nic the more,
That, being but knave, I throw thine
enemies."

" A\ e, a\e," she said, " but thou
shalt meet thy match "

So when they touch'd the second

riverloop.
Huge on a huge red horse, and ■'.11 in

mail
Burnish'd to blinding, shone the

Noonday Sun
Heyond a raging shallow. As if the

Hower,
That blows a globe of after arrow-
lets.
Ten thousand-fold had grown, flash'd

the fierce shield.
All sun; and Gareth's eyes had Hying

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

Arthur's hall
Hath overthrown thy brother, and

hath his arms."
" Ugh! " cried the Sun, and visoring

up a red
And cipher face of rounded foolish-
ness,
I'ush'd horse across tlie 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
licaved up a ponderous arm to strike

tlie fifth,
Ti." hoof of his horse slipt in the

stream, the stream
Descended, and the Sun was wash'd

av\ay.

Then Gareth laid his lance athwart

the ford ;
So drew him home; but he that

fought no more.
As being all bone-battcr'd on the

rock,
\'ielded ; and Gareth sent him to the

King.
" Mvself when I 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 vic-
tor here.
There lies a ridge of slate across the

ford;
His horse ihereon stumbled — aye,

for I saw it.

" ' O Sun ' (not this strong fool
whom thou, Sir Knave,

■ {

.i r

210

IDYLLS OF THE KINC^

Hast overthrown thro' nuTc unliappi-

ness),
' O Sun, that wakcn.'st .ill to hliss

or puin,
O moon, that lay est all to sleep

again,
Shine sweetly: twice my love hath

smiled on me.'

'• What knnwest thnu of lovesong

or ot love ?
Nay. nay, God wot, so thou wcrt

nobly born,
Thou hast a pleasant pre'^eiice. \ ca,

perchance, —

" ' O dewy flowers that open to the
sun,
O dewy tlnwcrs that close u hen da\' is

'''^"'^' , . u

Blow sweetly: twice my love liatti

smiled on me.'

" What knowest thou of flowers,
except, belike.

To f^arnish meats with? hath not our
good King

Who lent me thee, the flower of
kitchendom,

A foolish love for flowers? what
stick ye round

The pasty? wherewithal deck the
boar's head ?

Flowers? nay, the boar hath rose-
maries and bay.

" ' O birds, that warble to the
mornine; sky,
O birds that warble as the day goes

^y< , 1 1

Sing sweetly: twice my love hatli
smiled on me.'

" WTiat knowest thou of birds,
lark, mavis, merle,
Linnet? what dream ye when they
utter forth

May-music growing with the growing

li^ht.
Their sweet sun worship? these be for

the snare
(So runs thy fancy) these be for the

spit.
Larding and basting. Si-e thou have

not now
Larded th> last, except thou turn and

tly.

Tiiere stands the third fool of their
allegory."

Lor tiicre beyond a bridge of
treble bow.

All in a rose-red from the west, and
all

Naked it seeni'd, and glowing in the
broad

Ueep-dimpled current underneath, the
knight.

That named himself the Star of Even-
ing, stood.

And G .eth, " Wherefore waits the

madman there
Naked in open dayshine?" "Nay,"

she cried,
" Not naked, only wrapt in harden'd

skins
That fit him like his own ; and so ye

cleave
His armor of? him, these will turn tlie

blade."

Then the third brother shouted

o'er the bridge,
" O brother-star, why shine ye here

so low i
Thy ward is higher up: but have ye

slain
The damsel's champion?" and the

damsel cried,

" No star of thine, but shot from
Arthur's heaven
With all disaster unto thine and
thee !

i^MHMIR

GAREIH AND LYNETTE

211

For both thy younjjer brethren have

fjone down
Before this youth; ami 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 o\er-bold in

bra^!
But that same strenmii uiiitdi threw

the Morning Star
Can throw the Evening."

Then that otl;cr blew
A hard and deadly note upon the

horn.
"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, and

brought a helm
With but a dr\ing evergreen for

crest,
And gave a shield whereon the Star

of Even
Half-tarnish'd and half-bright, his

emblem, shone.
But when it glitter'd o'er the saddle-
bow,
They madly hurl'd lOgether on the

bridge;
And Gareth overthrew him, lighted,

drew.
There met him drau n, and overthrew

him again,
But up like fire he started: and as

oft
As Gareth brought him groxding on

his knees,
So many a time he vaulted up again ;
Till Gareth panted hard, and his

great heart.

Foredooming all his trouble was in

\ain,
Labor'd within him, for he seem'd

as otie
That all in later, sad. ; age be-
gins
To war against ill uses of a life,
Hut these from all his life arise, and

^ cry,
" Thou hast made us lords, and

canst not put us down I "
He half despairs: so Gareth seem'd

to strike
Vainly, the damsel clinuiring all the

while,
" Well done, knave-knight, •veil

stricken, O good knight-
knave —
() 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

harden'd skin —
Strike — strike — the wind will

never change again."
And Gareth hearing ever stronglier

smote.
And hew 'd great pieces ot his armor

oft him,
But lash'd in vain against the har-
den'd skin,
And could noi wholly bring him

imder, ir re
Than Icud Southwestern, rolling

ridge on ridge.
The buoy that rides at sea, and dips

and springs
For ever; t'U at length Sir Gareth's

brand
Clash 'd his, and brake it utterly to

the hilt.
"I have thee now;" but forth that

other sprang.
And, all unknightlike, writhed his

wiry arms

IDYLLS OF THE KING

212

Arouna lum, till 1r' f''lt, ilf'.pitc 1"^

mail, , . .

Strannlol, but strainlni; cv ti lus

utti-rmo-'t
Cast, and so hurlM hi.n headlong; o er

the bridfic
Down to the river, sink or swim,

and cried,
" Lead, and I follow."

But the damsel said,
"I lead no longer; ride tliou at my

Thou'art the kin-Iiest of all kitchen-
knaves.

" ' O trefoil, sparkling; on the rainy
plain,
O rainbow with three color, alter

rain, ,

Shine sweetly: thrice my love hath
smiled on me.'

"S;r,_and. good faith, 1 fain
had added — Knipht,
But that I heard thee call thyself a

knave, —
Shamed am I that I so rebuked, re-
viled, .
Missaid thee; noble I am; and

thought the Kini:
Scorn'd me and mine; and now thy

pardon, friend.
For thou hast ever answei d court-
eously, ,
And wholly bold thou art. and meek

withal .

As any of Arthur', best, but, being

knave.
Hast mazed my wit: I marvel what

thou art.

" Damsel," he said, " you be not
all to blame.
Saving that you mistru' .ed our good

King .

Would handle scorn, or yield you,

asking, one

Not tit to cope your iiu(->t. ^ ou
said vour sa\ ;

.Mine answer was my deed. Cjood
sooth! I hold

He scarce is knight, yea, but halt-
man, nor meet

To fight for ),.,n\c damsel, he, who
lets ,

His heart be stirr'd with any foolish

heat ,

At any gentle damsel's wayward-
ness.

Shamed? care not I thy t.)ul sayuigs
fought for me:

.•\nd seeing now thy words are fair,
methinks

There rides no knight, not Lancelot,
his great self,

Hath force to quell me."

Nigh upon that hour
When the lone hern forgets his

melancholy.
Lets down his other leg, and stretch-
ing, dreams
Of goodly supper in the distant poo ,
Then turn'd the noble damse! smil-
ing at him,
And told him of a cavern hard at

hand,
Where breid and b.aken mea^s and

good red \\ ine
()f Southh-nd, uhich the Lady

Lvonors
Had sent her coming champion,
waiteil him.

Anon they past a narrow comb

wherein
Were slabs of rock with figures,

knights on horse
Sculptured, and deckt in shmly

waning hues.
•• Sir Knave, my knight, :: hermit

once was here,
WHiose hol\ hand hath tashion d on

the rock

GARF.TH AND LYNETTE

213

The war of Time at,'aiiibt tlic m)u1 (if

itKin.
And yon four looU luui- Mick'd tlicir

allegory
From '.hfsc damp walls, and taken

buf the furm.
Know ye not these?" and Ciareth

lookt and read —
In letters like to those the vexilkuy
Hath left crag-carven o'er the

streaming; Cjelt —
"Phosphorus," then "Meriuhs"

" Hl.Sl'tRL s " —

" Nox " — " Mors," licneath live fig-
ures, armed men,
Slab after slab, their faces forward

And running; down the Soul, a Shape

that tied
With broken wings, torn raiment

and loose hair.
For help and shelter to the hermit's

cave.
" Folloxv the faces, anil we find it.

Look,
Who cumes behind ? "

For one — delay'd at first

Thro' helping back the liislocated
Kay

To Camelot, then I'v ulia.t thereafter
chanced,

The damsel's headlong error thro'
the wood —

Sir Lancelot, having swum the river-
loops —

His blue shield-lions cover'd — softly
drew

Behind the twain, and when he saw
the star

Gleam, on Sir Gareth's turning to
him, cried,

" Stay, felon knight, I avenge ine
for my friend."

And Garcth crying prick'd against
»he cry :

But when ihey closed — in a mo-
ment — at one touch

Of that skili'd ^pear, the wonder of

the world —
Went sliding down su easily, and

fell.
That when he found the grass with-
in his hands
He laugh'd; the laughter jarr'd

upon Lynette:
Harshly slie ask'd him, " Siiamed

and overthrow II,
And tumbled back into the kitchen-
knave.
Why laugh ye ? that ye ble\'. your

boast in vain ? "
" Nay, noble damsel, hut chat 1, the

son
Of old King Lot and good Queen

Bellicent,
And victor of the bridges and the

tord.
And knight of Arthur, here lie

thrown by whom
I know not, all thro' mere unhappi-

ness —
Device and sorcery and unhappi-

ncss —
Out, sword; we are thrown!" And

Lancelot answer'd, " Prince,
O Gareth — thro' the mere unhappi-

ness
Of one who came to help thee, not

to harm,
Lancelot, and all as glad to find thee

w hole,
As on the day when Arthur knighted

him."

Then Gareth, " Thou — Lance-
lot! — ••hine the hanil

That threv\- .ne? An some chance
to mar the boast

Thy brethren of thee make — which
could not chance —

Had sent thee down before a lesser
spear,

Shamed had I been, and sad — O
Lancelot — thou ! "

. r

IDVl.l.S OF Tllh K1N<-^

214

Whereat the m.iW, n. petiihiiU.
" Lancelot,
Why i-Mve \v iu)t, uhni c:iHM ? an.l

uliereturr luiw
Come ye, not lallM? 1 ul'nifl in

niv knave,
Who beinti still rebuked, would an

bwer still
Courteous as any knight — but now.

if knight,
The marvel dies, and leaves me

todl'd and tnck'd.
And only wonderinj: ulierelore

plav'd upon:
And doubtful wlietber I and nune

be sucirn'd.
Where should b<- truth if not m

Artiiur's h.ill,
In Arthur's presence? Knight,

knave, prince and fool,
I hate thee and forever."

And Lancelot saiii,
"Blessed be thou, Sir Ciareth!

knijiht art thou
To the K!n}:'s best wish. C) daniH-l,

be vou u ise
To call him shamed, who is but over-
thrown?
Thrown have I been, nor once, nut

n;an\- a time.
Victor from vanquish'd issues at the

last,
And overthrower from bcuvz over-
thrown.
With sword we have rot striven;

and thy good horse
And thou are weary; yet not less I

feit .

Thy manhood thro' that wearied

lance of thine.
Well hast thou dor" ; for all the

stream is freed,
And thou hast wreak'd his justice on

his foes,
And when reviled, hast answer d
[graciously,

And .uakest merry when )verthrouii.

i'rince, knight.
Hail, l<.ni^;ht and Prince, and of our

Table Round! "

And then when turning; to L\n-
ette he told
The tale of Hareth, petulantly she

said,
".Aye, well — ave, well — for worse

tiian beinj: fool'd
Of otliers, is to fool one's self. A

cave.
Sir Lancelot, is hard by, with meats

and drinks
,\nd forage for the horse, and tlint

for fire.
Hut all about it (lies a honeysuckle.
Seek, till we tind." And when they

soucht and found.
Sir Gareth drank and ate, and all

his life
Past into sleep; on whom the maiden

gnzed.
"Sound sleep be thine! sound cause

to sleep hast ihou.
Wake lusty! Seem 1 not as tendei

to him
As any mother? .\\e, but such a

one
As all dav !

child,
And ve\t hi> day, but blesses him

asleep —
Good lord, how sweetly smells the

h(ine\^uckle
In the hu>ird night, as if the world

were one
Of \itter peace, and love, and gentle-

hath rated at her

ncss ;
O Lancelot, Lancelot "— and she

clapt her hands —
" Full merry am I to find my goodly

knave
1- knight and noble. See now,

s\\, ,rn Irne I.
KIse yon black felon hail not let me

pass,

GARETH AND LYNETIE

215

To brine thee back to Jo the battle
nitli him.

Thus and thou gocsr, he uiU ti^^ht
thee first ;

Who doubts thee victor? so will my
Itnipht-knave

Miss the full flower of this accom-
plishment."

Said Lancelot, " Pcrailveiiturc he,
you name,

May know niv shiclil. Let Garetli,
an he will,

Change his for mine, and t.ike my
charter, fresh,

Not to be spurr'd, loviti;: the battle
as well

As he that rides him." " Lancelot-
like," she said,

" Courteous in this, Lord Lancelot,
as in all."

A star shot: " Lo," said Gareth,
"the foe falls!"

An owl whoopt: " Hark the victor
pealing there ! "

Suddenly she that rode upon his left

Cluns; to the shield that Lancelot
lent him, crying;,

" \'ield, yield him this again: 'tis be
must fit;ht :

r curse the ton^jue that all t!\ro' yes-
terday

Reviled thee, and bath wrou^^lit on
l,ancelot nuu

To lend thee horse and '•hield: won-
ders ye have ilone ;

.NL'raclcs ye cannot: here is ^lory
enow

In having flung the three: I see thee
maim'd,

Mangled : I su ear thou canst not
fling the fourth."

And Gareth, wakening, fiercely

clutch'd the shield ;
" Ramp .\e lance-splintering lions, on

whom all spears
Are rotten sticks! ye seem agape to

roar !
Yea, ramp and roar at leaving of

your lord! —
Care not, good beasts, so well I care

for you.
O noble Lancelot, from my bfjld on

these
Streams virtue — fire — thro' one

that will not shame
Even the shadow of Lancelot under

shield.
Hence: let us go."

Silent tbe silent field
They traversed. Arthur's harp the'

summer-wan,
In counter motion to the clouds,

allured
The glance of Gareth dreaming on

his liege.

" And wherefore, damsel t tell me

all ye know.
^ ou cannot scare me ; nor rough

face, or voice,
Brute bulk of limb, or boundless

savagery
Appal me from the quest."

" Nay, Prince, ' she cried,

" God wot, I never look'd upon the
face,

Seeing he never rides abroad by
day ;

But watch'd him have I like a phan-
tom p;iss

Chilling the night: nor have I heard
the voice.

Alwajs be made his mouthpiece of a
page

Who came and went, and still re-
ported him

As closing in himself the strength of
ten,

And when his anger tare him, mas-
sacring

f
'I

:i6

IDYLLS OL THL KING

Man, svoiiian, la.i aii.l t;irl — y<a.

the sott babe!
Some hold that he hath swaliuw d

intant Hesh,
Monster! U Prince, 1 went for

J .ancclot first,
The quest is Lancelot's: give Inm

back the shichi."

Said Gareth lau^hin^', " An he
fight for this.
Belike he \\ins it as tlu- better man;
'I'luis — and nut tlsel "

Rut Lancelot on hlni ur^vil
All the devisinp» ot their chivalry
When one niii:tit meet a mightier

than himself;
How best to manape horse, laJice,

sword and shield,
And so till up the gap where force

might fail
With skill and fineness. Instant

were his words.

Then Gareth, " Here he rules. I

know but one —
To dash against mine enemy and to

win.
Yet have I watch'd thee victor in

the joust.
And seen thy v ny." " Heaven help

thee," sigh'd Lynette.

Then for a space, and under cloud

that grew
To thunder-gloom palling all stars,

they rode
In converse till she made her palfrey

halt.
Lifted an arm, and softly whisper d

'' There."
And all the three were silent seeing,

pitch'd
Beside the Castle Perilous on fiat

field,
A huge pavilion like a ninuntani

peak

Sunder the gLnmiin^ crimson on the

nuiige,
Black, with black banner, and a long

bl.uk hurn
Beside It hanging; which Sir Clarrth

graspt,
And s(j, before the two could hinder

lull', , ,1

Sent all his heart and breath tliro all

the horn.
Fclio'd the walls; a Hght tumkled;

an(;ii
Came lights and lights and once

again he blew ;
Whereon were hollow tr.ainplings up

and dou n
.And muffled voices heard, and sh.id-

ou s past ;
Till high above him, circled with

her maids,
The Lady Lyonors at a window

stood,
Beautiful among lights, and waving

t<j him
White hands, and courtesy; but

when the Prince
Three times had blown — after long

hush — at last —
The huge pavilion slowly yielded up.
Thro' those black foldings, that

which housed therein.
High on a nighthlack horse, In night-
black arms,
With white breast-bone, and barren

ribs of Death,
And crown'd with fleshless laughter

— some ten steps —
In the half-light — thro' the dim

daw n — advanced
The monster, and then paused, and
spake no word.

But Gareth spake and all indig-
nantly,

" Fool, for thou hast, men say, the
strength of ten,

Canst thou not trust the limbs thy
God hath given.

'"Ill-: MARRIAGK OF GFRAINT

217

But must, to make the terror of tlirc

more,
Trick thyself out in ghastly image-
ries
Of that vshitli Life liath done with,

and the clod,
Less dull than thou, will hide with

mantling Howers
As if fcjr pit)'.''" Hut he spaLc no

word ;
Which set the horror hi'jher: a

maiden sw (x)n'd ;
The Lady Lyonors wrun^ her hand-.

anil wept,
As doom'd to be tlic bride of Ninht

aiul Ucatli ;
Sir Cjarcth's head pricUed bemath

his helni ;
And ev'n Sir Lancelot thro' his \\arni

blond telt
Ice strike, and all that mark'd him

were aghast.

At once Sir Lancelot's charger

fiercely nei^^li'd
And Death's dark war-horse bounded

forw ard u ith him.
Then tho>e that did not blink the

terror, saw
That Death was cast to jjround, and

slowly rose.
But with one stroke Sir Gareth split

the skull.
Half fell to right and half to left

and lay.
Then with a stronger bufifet he clove

the helm
As thoroughly as the skull; and out

from this
Issued the bright face of a blooming

boy
Frtsh as a flower new-born, and cry-
ing, " Knight,
Slay me not: my three brethren bade

me do it.
To make a horror all about the

house,

.And ^r,n- the vMirlil from Lad> Lyon-

oi>.
They never dream-d the passes would

be past."
Answer'd Sir Gareth graciously to

line
Not many a moon his younger,

" .\I> fair chikl,
What madness made thee challenge

the chiet knight
Of .Arthur's hall.' ' " Fair Sir, they

bade me do it.
'I'hey hate the King, and Lancelot,

the King's friend.
They hoped to slay him so'iiewhere

on the str?am,
I'hey never dreani'd the passes could

he past."

Then sprang the happier day from

underground ;
And Lady Lyonors and her house,

with dance
And revel ami song, made merry

over Death,
As being after all tiieir foolish fears
And horrors only proven a blooming

boy.
So large mirth lived anil Cjareth

won the quest.

And he that told the tale in older
times

Says that Sir Gareth wedded Lyon-
ors,

But he, that told it later, says
Lynctte.

THE MARRIAGE OF
GLRALNT

The brave Geraint, a Icnight of

Arthur's court,
A tributary prince of Devon, one
Of that great Order of the Table

Round,

2l8

IDYLLS OF Tin-: KING

Had uiarrinl Knui, Vniol's only

duia, , , ,

And luvcd !i<-r, a. W li.v.-d tlic hi;l>t

of Mi-avrn.
An.l as tlie li^ht ..f ll.'avcn vane-,,

now
At siiiui^c, now at sunset, now by

ni^;ht
With moon an.l t.cnil'link; stars, so

lovi-d (irraint
To make her beauty vary day by

day, .

In crimsons and \n purplrs ami in

H<'n's.

And Kni.i, but to please her hus-
band's rye.

Who first had found and loved her
in a state

Or' broken fortunes, daily fronted
him

In some fresh splendor; and the
(Jueen herself,

Grateful to Prince ( leraint for serv-
ice done,
Loved her, and often with her own

white hands
Array'd and de.k'd her, as the love-

lifst, . .

Next after her own selt, in all ttie

court. .

And tnid loved the Queen, and with

true heart
Adored her, as the stateliest and the

best
And loveliest of all women upon

earth.

And seeing them so tender and so

close, . . ,

Long in their common love rejoiced

Geraint.
But when a rumor rose about 'he

Queen,
Touct-.ing her guilty love for Lance-
lot,
ThV yet there lived no proof, nor

yet was heard
The "world's loud whisper breaking
into storm.

Not less (icraint believed it; and

there fell
A horror on him, lest his gentle wife,
1 hro' that great tenderness tor

( luinrvrre.
Had suffrr'd, or should suffer any

taint
In nature: wherefore going to the

King,
He made this pretext, that his prince-
dom lav
Close on the borders of a territory,
Wherein were bamlit rarl>, and

caitiff knights,
Assassins, ard all flyers from the

hand
Of Justice, and whatever loathes a
law: ,. ,^

And therefore, till the King himself

should please
To cleanse this common stwer of all

his realm.
He craved a fair permission to de-
part.
And there defend his marches; and

the King
Mused for a little on his plea, but,

last, , .

Allowing it, the prince and Lnid

rode,
And fifty knights rode with them,

to the shores
Of Severn, and they past to their

ov\ ti land ;
Where, thinking, that if ever yet was

w i f e
True to her lord, mine shall be so to

me.
He compass'd her with sweet ob-
servances
And worship, never leaving her, and

grew
Forgetful of his promise to the King,
Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt,
Forgetful of the tilt and tournament,
Forgetful of his glory and his nanie,
Forgetful of his princedom and its

cares.

IllK MARRIAGK OF GKRAINT

219

And this fori;ftfulnf<is w.is li.itfful to
her.

And by anil b) tlu- (>t(i(ilt', u lirn tlicv
nirt

In twos anil thrffs, or fuller com-
panies,

B('Kan to scoff and jcrr and babble of
biin

As of a prince wliose inaiihood was
all none,

And molten down in mere iivnrioiis-
nevs.

And this she t;atber'<l fr<im the peo-
ple's eyes;

This, too, the women who attired
her head,

To please her, (hvellim; on his
boundless love,

Told Knid, and they sadden'd her
the more:

And day by day she thou^;lit to tell
Geraint,

Hut could not out of bashful deli-
cacy ;

While he that watch'd her sadden,
was the more

Suspicious that her nature had a
taint.

At last, it chanced that on a sum-
mer morn
(They sleeping each bv either) the

new sun
Beat thro' the blindlcss casement of

the room.
And heated the strong warrior in his

drea;ns;
Who, moving, cast the coverlet

aside.
And bared the knotted colunm of

his throat.
The massive square of his heroic

breast.
And arms on which the standing

muscle sloped.
As slopes a wild brook o'er a little

stone.

Running too vehemently to break

upon it.
And l.nid v\oke ;>'' 1 sat beside the

loiuh,
.Admiruig tiim, and thought within

herself,
Was ever man so grandly made as

be ?
Then, like a shadow, p.ist the peo-
ple's talk
Anil aicusation of uxoriousness
Atross her nind, and bowing over

him,
Low to her o« ri heart pitcously she

said :

" () noble breast anil all-puissant

arms.
Am I the cause, I the poor cause

that men
Reproach you, saying all \()ur force

is gone ?
I am the cause, because I dare not

speak
And tell him what I think and what

they say.
And yet I hate that he should linger

here ;
I cannot love my lonl and not his

name.
Far liefer d I gird his harness on

him.
And ride with him to battler nnd

stand by.
And watch his mightful hand strik-
ing gre ;t blows
At caitiffs and at wrongcrs of the

vM)rld.
Far better were I laid in the dark

earth.
Not hearing any more hi; noble

voice,
Not to be folded more in these dear

arms,
And darken'd from the high light in

his eyes.
Than that my lord thro' me should

sufifer shame.

220

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Am I so bold, ami could I so stand

by,

And see my dear lord wounded m

the strife,
Or maybe pierced to deatl. before

mine eyes,
And yet not dare to tell ium what 1

think.
And how men slur h'ni, saying all his

force
Is melted into mere effeminacy? __
O me, 1 fear that 1 am no true wife. '

Half inwardly, half audibly she

spoke, ... .

And the strong pa.ssion m her made

her weep
True tears upon his broad and naked

brea.'t,
And these awoke him, and by great

mischance
He heard but fragments of her later

words,
And that she fear'd she was not a

true wife.
And then he thought, " In spite of

al! my care,
For all my pains, poor man, for all

mv pains,
She is not faithful to me, and I see

her
Weeping for some gay knight in

Arthur's hall."
Then tlio' he loved and reverenced

her too much
To dream she could be guilty of foul

act.
Right thro' his manful breast darted

the pang
That makes a man, in the sweet face

of her
Whom he loves most, lonely and

miserable.
At this he hurl'd his huge limbs out

of bed,
And shwk his drowsy squire awake
and cried.

"My charger and her palfrey;"

then to her,
" I will ride forth into the wilder-
ness ;
For tho' it seems my spu.s are yet

to win,
I have not fall'n so low as some

would wish.
And thou, put on thy vorst and

meanest dress
^nd ride with me." And Enid

ask'd, amazed,
" If Enid errs, let Enid learn her

fault."
Bu: he, "1 charge thee, a^k not, but

obey."
Then she bethought her of a faded

silk,
A faded mantle anvl a faded veil.
And moving towara a cedarn cabi-
net,
Wherein she kept them folded rever-
ently
With sprigs of summer laid between

the folds,
She took them, and array'd herself

therein,
Remembering when first he came on

her
Drest in that dress, and how he

loved her in it,
And all her foolish fears about the

dress.
And all hio journey to her, as him-
self
Had told her, and their coming to
the court.

For Arthur on the Whitsuntide

before
Held court at old Caerleon apnn

Usk.
There on a day, he sitting high m

hall,
Before him came a forester of Deai.,
Wet from the woods, with notice of

a hart

THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT

221

Tall«T than all his fellows, millty- Sweetly and statelily, and with all

white, grace

P'irit seen that day: these things he Of womanhood and queenhood,

told the King. answer'd hinv.

Then the good King gave order to " Late, late, Sir Prince," she said,

let blow "later than we!"

His horns for hunting on the mor- " Yea, noble Queen," he answer'd,

row-morn. " and so late

And when the Quetn petition'd for That I but come like you to see the

his leave hunt.

To see the hunt, allow'd it easily. Not join it." " Therefore w ait with

So >A-ith the morning all the court

were gone.
But Guinevere lay late into the

morn,
Lost in sweet dreams, and dreaming

of her love
For Lancelot, and forgetful of tiie

hunt;
But rose at last a single maiden

with her,
Toole horse, and forded Usk, and

gain'd the wood ;

me," she said ;

" For on this little knoll, if any-
where,

There is good chance that we shall
hear the hounds :

Here often they break covert at our
feet."

And while they listen'd for the
distant hunt,
And chiefly for the baying of Cavall,

There, on a little knoll beside it, King Arthur's hound of deepest

stay'd mouth, there rode

Waiting to hear the hounds; but Full slowly by a knight, lady, and

heard instead dwarf;

A sudden sound of hoofs, for Prince Whereof the dwarf lagg'd latest,

Gcraint, and the knight

Late also, wearing neither hunting- Had visor up, and show'd a youthful

dress face.

Nor weapon, Su.° a golden-hilted Imperious, and of haughtiest linea-

hranil, ments.

Came qin'ckly flashing thro' the And Guinevere, not mindful of his

si ml low ford face

Behind them, and so gallop'd up the In the King's hall, desired Ins name,

knoll. and sent

A purple scarf, at either end Her maiden to demand it of the

whereof dWaii,

There swung an apple of the purest Who being vicious, old and irritable,

gold, And doubling all his master's vice of

Sway'd round about liim, as he pride,

gallop'd up Made ans\\ -"r sharply that she should

To join therr , glrncing like a dragon- not know.

fly " Then will I ask it of himself," she

In summer suit and silks of holiday. said.

Low bnw'd the tribul-iry Prince, and " Nay, by my faith, thou shah not,"

she, cried the dwarf;

i ^'

222

IDYLLS OF THE KING

" 1 hou art not worthy ev"n to speak

of him ; "
And when she put her horse toward

the knight,
Struck at her with his whip, and she

return'd
Indignant to the Queen; whereat

Gcraint
Exclaiming, " Surely I will learn the

name,"
Made sharply to '■he dwarf, and

ask'd it of him,
Who answer'u as before; and when

the Prince
Had put his horse in motion toward

the knight,
Struck at him with his v\ hip, and cut

his cheek.
The Prince's blood spirted upon the

scarf.
Dyeing it; and his quick, instinctive

hand
Caught at the hilt, as to abolish

him:
But he, from his exceeding manful-

ness
And puie nobility of temperament,
Wroth to be wroth at such a worm,

refrain'd
From ev'n a word, and so returning

said :

" I will avenge this insult, noble

Que-'n,
Done in your maiden's person to

yourself:
And I will track this vermin to their

earths:
For tho' I ride unarm'd, I do not

dcabt
To find, at some place I shall come

at, arms
On loan, or else for pledge; and,

being found.
Then will I fight him, and will

break his pride.
And on the third day will again be

here,

So that I be not fall'n in ..^ht.
Farewell."

" Farewell, fair Prince," answer'd

the stately Queen.
" Be prosperous in this journey, as in

all;
And may you light on all things that

you love,
And live to wed with her whom first

you love :
But ere you wed with any, bring

your bride,
And I, were she the daughter of a

king.
Yea, tho' she were a beggar from

the hedge,
\ViIl clothe her for her bridals like

the sun."

And Prince Geraint, now think-
ing that he heard

The noble hart at bay, now the far
horn,

A little vext at losing of the hunt,

A little at the vile occasion, rode.

By ups and downs, thro' many a
grassy glade

And valley, w'ith fixt eye following
the three.

At last they issued from the world of
wood.

And climb'd upon a fair and even
ridge.

And show'd themselves against the
sky, and sank.

And thither came Geraint, and un-
derneath

Beheld the long street of a little
town

In a long valley, on one side
whereof,

WTiite from the mason's hand, a
fortress lose;

And on one side a castle in deca/,

Beyond a bridge that spann'd a dry
ravine :

THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT

And out of town and valley came a

noise
As of a broad brook o'er a shine'.v

bed
Brawling, or like a ilanior of the

rooks
At distance, ere they settle for the

night.

And onward to the fortress rode

the three.
And enter'd, and were lost behind

the walls.
" So," thought Gcraint, " I have

track'd him to his earth."
And down the long street riding

wearily,
Found every hostel full, and every-
where
Was hammer laid to hoof, and the

hot hiss
And bustling whistle of the youth

who scour'd
His master's armor; and of such a

one
He ask'd, "What means the tumult

in the town ? "
Who told him, scouring still, " The

sparrow-hawk! "
Then riding close behind an ancient

churl.
Who, smitten by the dusty sloping

beam.
Went sweating underneath a sack of

corn,
Ask'd yet once more what meant the

hubbub here?
Who answer'd gruffly, "Ugh! the

sparrow-hawk."
Then riding further past an armor-
er's,
Who, with hack turn'd, and bow'd

above his work,
Sat riveting a helmet on his knee.
He put the self-same query, but the

man
Not turning round, i r looking at
him, said :

223

" Friend, he that labors for the

sparrow-hawk
Has little time for idle questioners."
Whereat Geraint flash'd into sudden

spleen :
" A thousand pips eat up your spar-
row-hawk !
Tits, wrens, and all wing'd nothings

peck him dead!
\'e think the rustic cackle of your

bourp
The murmur of the world! What

is it to me?
C) wretched set 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 ! "
Whereat 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

stranger 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.
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 spleen-
ful yet.
Across the bridge that spann'd the
dry ravine.

't'i

224

IDYLLS OF THE KING

There musing sat the hoary-hcaded
Earl,

(His dress a suit of fray'd magnifi-
cence,

Once fit for feasts of ceremony) and
said :

"Whither, fair son?" to whom
Geraint replied,

" O friend, I seek a harborage for
the night."

Then Yniol, " Enter therefore and
partake

The slender entertainment of a
house

Once rich, now poor, hut ever open-
door'd."

" Thanks, venerable friend," replied
Geraint ;

" So that ye do not serve me spar-
row-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
sparrow-hawk :

But in, go in; for save yourself de-
sire 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

ruinous.
Here stood a sliatter'd archway

plumed with fern;
And here had fall'n a crcat part of a

tower,
Whole, like a crag that tumbles

from the cliff,

And like a crag was gay with wild-

mg 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-

fibered arms.
And suck'd the joining of the stones,

and look'd
A knot, beneath, of snakes, aloft, a

grove.

j\nd 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,
Aloves 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

Geraint ;
And made him like a man abroaii 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

nightingale ; "
So fared it with Geraint, who

thougiit and said.

THE MARRIAGE OF GERAIN'l 225

" Here, by God's grace, is the one That liRhtly breaks a faded flower-
voice for inc." sheath,

, , Moved the fair Enid, all in faded

It chanced the sonj; that Enid silk,

sang was one Her daughter. In a moment thought

Ui Portune and her wheel, and Enid Geraint,

®*"8: " Here by God's rood is the one

J, maid for me."

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel But none spake word except the
and lower the proud; hoary Earl:

Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, " Enid, the good knight's horse

storm, and cloud: stands in the court;

Thy wheel and thee we neither love Take him to stall, and give him corn,

and then
Go to the town and buy us Hesh and

u inc ;
And we will make us merry as we

may.
(^ur hoard is little, Lut our hearts
are great,"

nor hate.

"Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel

with smile or frown;
With that wild wlicel 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.

He spake: the Prince, as Enid
past him, fain
To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol

caught
His .lurplc scarf, and held, and said,

" Forbear!
Rest! the gof)d house, tho' ruin'd, O
,, " my son.

Turn, turn thy wheel above the Endures not that her guest should
starmg crowd; serve himself."

Thy uheel and thou are shadows in And reverencing the custom of the

the cloud; house

Thy wheel and thee we neither love Geraint, from utter courtesy, for-
nor hate." bore.

" Hark, by the bird's song ye may So Enid took his charger to the

learn tiie nest," stall ;

Said Yniol ; " enter quickly." Enter- And after went her way across the

ing then, bridge.

Right o'er a mount of newly-fallen And reach'd the town, and while the

, stones, Prince and earl

I he dusky-rafter'd many<obweb'd Yet spoke together, came again with

hall, one^
He found an ancient dame in dim A youth, that following with a cos-
brocade; trel bore
And near her, like a blossom ver- The means of goodly welcome, flesh
meil-white, and wine.

226

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Ana Knld brouRht swfit i-.ikc-s to
makf tliciu tlifcr,

And in hi-r veil t-ntolJcJ, nianchft
bread.

And then, because their hall must
also serve

For kitchen, boil'd the tlesh, and
spread tlie board.

And stood behind, anil waited on the
three.

And seeini; her so sweet and service-
able,

Geraint had lonjjint; in him ever-
more

To stoop and kiss the tender little
thumb.

That crost the trencher a> she laid it
dou n :

But after all had eaten, then Ger-
aint,

For now the wine made summer in

his veins,
Let his eye rove in f()llowin>:, or
rest

On I'.nid at her louly liandmaid-

work.
Now here, now there, about the

dusky hall ;
Then suddenly addrest the hoarv
Earl:

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 I

swore
That 1 would track this caitiff to his

hold,
And tight 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

yourself
Should have them, tell me, seeing I

have sworn
That I will break his pride and learn

his name,
Avenging this great insult done the
ueen.

" Fair Host and Farl, I pray your Tlien cried Farl Yniol, " Art thou

courtesv; li<-" indeed.

This sparrow-hawk, what is he.' tell Geramt, a name far-sounded among

me of him. Tifi

His namei' hut no, good faith, I will For noble deeds? and truly I, when

not have it: first

For if he be the knight whom late I saw you moving by me on the

I saw bridge.

Ride into that new fortress by your Felt ye were somewhat, yea, and by

town your state

White from the mason's hand, then And presence might have guess'd you

have I sworn one "f those

From his own lips to have it — I am That eat in Arthur's hall at Came-

Geiaint h)t. , ,. , n

Of Devon — for this morning when Nor speak I now from foolish fiat-

thc Queen tery ;

'hI-KI- l:V l.ou's kOOIl IS Till i IM' MMD I-'OR "Ml''" — /''A''" -25

THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT

227

For this (Ifar child hath oftt-n liearj

nic praise
^'our feats of arms, and often ulicn

1 paused
Hatli ask'd a^ain, and evir loved to

hear ;
So grp'ctul is the noise of noble

deeds
To noble hearts who see hut acts of

wronn:

never yet liad xioman such a

pair
Of suitors as this maiden ; first

Limoiirs,
A creature \\holly given to brawls

and u inc,
Drunli even u hen he w oo'd ; and be

he dead

1 know not, but he past to the wild

land.

The second was your foe, the spar-
row-haw k.

My curse, my nephew — I will not
let his name

Slip from my lips if I can help it —

When I that knew him fierce and

turbulent
Refused her to him, then his pride

awoke ;
And since the proud man often is the

mean,
He sow'd a slander in the common

From mine own earldom iouUy

ousted me ;
Built that new fort to overawe my

friends,
For truly there are those who love

me >et ;
And kccp> me in this ruinous castle

here,
Where doubtless he would put me

soon to death,
Hut that his pride too much despises

me:
And I myself sometimes de'^pise my-
self;'
I'or I have let men be, and have

their way ;
Am much too gentle, have not used

my power:
Nor know I u hether I be very base
Or very manful, whether very wise
Or very foolish; only this I know,
That whatsoever evil happen to me,
I seem to suffer nothing heart or

limb.
But can endure it all most patiently."

" Well said, true heart," replied

Gcraint, " but arms,
That if the sparrow-hawk, this

nephew, fight
In next day's tourney I may break

his pride."

Affirmin.: tl-.at his father left him

gold.
And in my charge, whicli was not

rendcr'd to him ;
Bribed with large promises the men

who served
About my person, the more easily
Because my means w ere somewhat

broken into
Thro' open doors and hospitality;
Raised my own town against me in

tho night
Before my Enid's birthday, sack'd

my house;

And Yniol answer'd, " Arms, in-
deed, hut old

And rusty, old and rusty, Prince
Geraint,

Are mine, and therefore at thine ask-
ing, thine.

But in this tournament can no man
tilt.

Except the lady he loves best be
there.

Two forks are fixt into the meadow
ground.

And over these is placed a silver
wand,

228

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And ovrr that a golden sp.iTow-

hauk,
The prize of beautv for the fairest

there.
And this, what Lni^;ht soever be in

field
Lays claim to for the lady at his side,
And tilts v\ ith my t;()<)d nephew

thereupon,
Who beirij; apt at arms and bi,; of

bone
Has ever uon it fur the lady with

him,
And toppling; over all antagonism
Has earn'd himself the name of spar-

ruvv-hawk.
But thou, th It hast no lady, canst

not fight."

To whom Geraint with eyes all

bright replied,
Leaning a little toward him, " Thy

leave !
Let me lay lance in rest, O noble

host.
For this dear child, because 1 'lever

saw,
Tho' having seen all beauties of our

time.
Nor can see elsewhere, an\ thing so

fair.
And if I fall her name will yet re-
main
Untarnish'd as before ; but if I h've.
So aid me Heaven when at mine

uttermost.
As I will make her truly my true

Wife.

Then, howsoever patient, "^'niol's

heart
Danced in his bosom, seeing better

days.
And looking round he saw not F".nid

there,
— Who hearing her own name had

stol'n away —

But that old dame, to whom full
tetulerly

And fondling all hei hanil in his he
said,

" Mother, a maiden is a tender thing,

And best bv her that bore her under-
stood.

(i(> thou to rest, but ere thou go to
rest

Tell her, and prove her heart toward
the Prince."

So spake the kindlv -hearteil earl,

and she
With frequent smile and luid depart-
ing found.
Half disarrav'd as to lur rest, the

girl;
Whom first she kiss d on cither

cheek, and then
On either shining shoulder laid a

hand,
And kept her off and gazed upon her

face,
.And t(.ld 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 hea\en, than red

and pale
Across the face of Enid liearing her;
While slowly fallinj; as a scale that

falls,
When weiglit is added only grain by

grain.
Sank her sv\cet head upon her gentle

breast ;
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

rm-: marriacji-: of gkraint

229

Tlie quirt ninlit into her blmul, but

hn
Coiitfiuplafin^ licr (n\ n uiu\()rt!ii-

iu--.> ;
An>i wlicn tlir [i:ilc an,! lilixnlless

I'li.it hf^an
1 qimktii to till' sun, aroic, and

r.iiM-il
Ilcr iiujthcr too, and h.m.l in han.i

the-) iiiovcil
Dowfi to tlif niiaiiow w hrrc the

juu^t-. UlTC lulli,

And waited there for ^'iiiol and
(jcraiiit.

And thither caine the tvsaiii, and

u hrn ticraint
Rchfld her first in field, awaiting

hitn,
He felt, were she the prize of bodily

force.
Himself beyond the rest pushing

could move
The cliair of Idris. V niol's rusted

arms
Were on lu's princely person, but

thro' these
Princelike his bearing; shone; and

errani knit;iits
And laiiies came, and by and b> the

tou n
Fiow'd in, and settling circled all the

lists.
And there they fixt the forks into

the ^Tound,
And over tlicse they ; aced the silver

wand,
And over that the 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,
What I these two years past have

won for thee,

The prize of beauty." Loudly spake

the I'rince,
Forbear: there is a wiirtliirr, and

the kni^'ht
With some surprise aii.l thrice as

much disdain
Turn'd, atiil beheld the four, and all

his face
(jlow'd like the heart of .1 i;rcat (ire

at Vule,
So burnt he was with passion, cry-

inti out,
" Uo battle for it then," no more;

and thrice
They clash'd to^'ethrr, and thrice

they brake their spears.
I hen each, dishorsed ami drawing,

lash'd at each
So often and with such blows, that

all the crowd
Wondcr'd, and now and then from

di^tant walk
There came a clapping as of phan-
tom hands.
So twice they foucht. and twice the)-

breathed, and si [
The dew of their threat labor, and

the blood
Oi their strong boilies, flowing,

drain'd their force.
Hut cither's force was inatch'd till

^ nidi's cr)i ,
" Remember that great insult done

the Queen,"
Increased Geraint's, who heaved his

blacie aloft,
And crack'd the helmet thio', and

bit the bone.
And fell'd him, and set foot upon

his breast,
And said, "Thy name?" To whom

the fallen man
Made answer, groaning, " Ed\rn,

son of Nudd !
Ashamed am I that I should tell it

thee.
My pride is broken : men have seen

my fall."

2.V'

IDVLI.S OF I'llK KING

" Tlirn, F.ilyrn, sot) of NiuM," re-
plied (irralnt,
" Tlirsp two thin^N sluilt ttiiui do, or

rlsr thou tlif>t.
First, thou tliv-><'lt, «i'li llaIIl^(•l and

with dwarf,
Shalt ride to Arthur's loiirt, and

colIlill^,' there,
Crave par. Ion for that insult done the

Queen,
And shalt abiile her juil^inent on it;

next,
Thou shalt ^Ive had their earldmn to

thy kin.
These two things sljalt thou do, or

thou slialt die."
And Fd\rn ansvscr'd, " 'I'hese things

w;l. I .lo,
For I ha\e never y ^ been over-
thrown,
And th )u hast overthrown nie, and

my pride
Is broken dov\ri, for Fnid sees my

fall!"
And risinij up, he rode to Arthur's

court,
And there the Queen forgave him

easily.
And being yountr, he changed and

came to loathe
}l!s crime of traitor, slowly drew

himself
lkit:ht from his old dark life, and fell

at last
In the creat battle fighting for the

Kinjj.

But when the third day from the
huntin(;-morn

Made a low splendor in the world,
and wings

Moved in her ivy, Fnid, 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 I'rince

( irraint —
So betit he seemd on going the third

d.iv,
He w(julil not leave her, till her

ptoIIli^e giver) —
To ride with him this niorniiig to the

court.
And there be made knowr) to the

stately (Juet \
And there be weiidcd with all cere-
mony.
At this she cast her eyes upon her

ilri'ss.
And thought it never \et hail look'd

so mean.
For as a leaf it) mid-Novemlirr is
To what it was in mid ( )ctobcr,

seem'ii
The dress that now she look'd on to

the dress
She look'd on ere the coming of

Geraint.
And still she look'd, and still the fr-

rnr grew
Of that strange bri^lit and dreadful

thing, a court,
All staring at her in her faded silk:
And softly to her own sweet heart she

said :

'' This noble prince w ho won our
earldom back.
So splendid in his acts and his attire,
Sweet heaven, how much I shall dis-
credit liiml
Would he could tarry with us here

awhile,
i-Jut being so beholden to the Prince,
It were but little grace in anv of us
Bent as he seem'd on going this thiru

day.
To seek a second favor at his hands.
"\'et- if he could hut tarry a day or

two,
Myself would work eye dim, and
finger lame.

THE MARRIAGK OF GliRA'Xr

231

Far lirfrr than so much distrcilit
him."

And Fniil fell in lonuing for a

(irrss
Ail hranili'ii an.' (iowc r'd witti K"id,

a iditly (jift
<)t licr i.'()(id niofiicr, >:ivrn her on

tlic niytit
Hfforc her birthday, three sad years

That niu'ht of fire when Kdyrn

sacii'd their h. e,
And scarter'd ail fhry had to all the

winds:
For while the mother show'd it, and

the two
Were fuming and admiring it, the

work
To both arpear'd so costly, rose a

rry
That Edyrn's -.vm were on them,

and they fled
With litt'e save the jcwc'.i they had

on,
Which being sold and sold had

bought them bread:
And Kdyrn's men had caught them

in their flight.
And placed them in this ruin ; and

siiC vish'd
The Prince had found her in her

ancient home;
Then let her fancy flit across the

past.
And roam the goodly places that she

knew ;
And last bethought her how she used

to watch.
Near that old home, a pool of golden

rarp;
And one was patch'd and blurr'd

and iusterless
A.mong his burnish 'd brethren of the

pool ;
And half asleep she made compari-
son

Of that a-. . these to her own failed

self
And the gay court, and fell asletp

again ;
And d'eamt lu-rsclf w ■■ such a faded

form
Among hrr hurnuliM .,>ters of the

P'Mil ;
Hut tl'is was in the garden of a

king;
And tho' she lay dirk in the pool,

she knew
That all w.is bright; that all about

were birds
Of sunny plume in gilded trcllis-

VMirk ;
Tha' all the t\irf was rich in plots

that lo(jk'd
Fach like a garnet or a turkis in

it;

And lords and ladies of the high

courr went
In silver tissue talking things of

state;
And cluldren of the King in cloth of

gold
(ilanced at the doc-- or gsmbol'd

down the walks;
And while sh- thought, " They will

not sec 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 gcId ; and charge the

gardeners now
To pick the faded creature from the

pool.
And cast it on the mixen that it

die."
And therewithal one came and

seized on her,
And f:nid started waking, with her

heart
All overshadow'd by the foolish
dream.

> ■•.

■7'

232

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And lo! 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:

" Sec here, my child, how fresh

the colors look.
How fast they hold like cDlors of a

shell
That keeps the wear and polish of

the wave.
Why not? It never yet was worn,

1 trow:
Look on it, child, and te'l me if ye
now It.

And E ' d look'd, but all confuseo

at first.
Could scarce divide it from her

foolish dream :
Then suddenly she knew it and

rejoicea,
And answer'd "Yea, I know it;

your good ^ift,
So sadly lost on that unhappy night;
"V'our own i. 'od gift ! " " Yea,

surely," sa.l the dame,
" And gladly given again this happy

morn.
For when the jousts were ended

ycstf iday,
Went Ynioi thro' the town, and

everywhere
He found the sack and plunder of

our house
All scatter'd thro' the hous-s of the

to« n ;
And gave command that all which

once was ours
Should now be ours again: and yes-

ter-eve,
While ye were talking sweetly with

your Prince,

Came one with this and laid it in my
hand.

For love oi fear, or seeking hvor 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.

Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly
house.

With store of rich apparel, sumptu-
ous fare.

And page, and m. and squire, and
seneschal.

And pastime both of hawk nd
hound, and all

That appertains to noble mainte-
nance.

Yea, and he brought me to a goodly
house ;

But since our fortune swerved from
sun to shade.

And all thro' that young traitor,
cruel need

Const.-ain'd us, but a better tii. :: has
come;

So clothe yourself in ihis, that bet-
ter fits

Our mended fortunes and a Prince's
bride:

For the' ye won the prize of fairest
fair,

And tho' I heard him call you fairest
fair,

Let never maiden think, I.owever
fair,

She is not fairer in new clothes than
old.

And should some grea. court-lady
say, the Prince

THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT

233

Hath pick'd a ragged-robin from the As this great Prince invaded us, and

hedge, ue,

And like a madman brought her to Not beat him back, but welcomed

the court, him uitti joy.

Then were ye shamed, and, worse. And 1 can scarcely ride with you to

might shame the Prince court,

To whom we are beholden; but I For old am I, and rough the ways

know, and wild ;

When my dear child is set forth at But Yniol goes, and I full oft sh?"

her best, dream

That neither court nor country, tho' I see my princess as I see her now,

they sought Clothed with my gift, and gay among
Thro' all the provinces like those of the gay."

old
That lighted on Queen Esther, has But while the women thus re-

her match." joiced, Geraint

Woke where he slept in the high
hall, and call'd

Here ceased the kindly mother out For Enid, and when ^niol made

of breath ; report

And Enid listen'd brightening as she Of that good mother making Enid

lay ; gay

Then, as the white and glittering In such apparel a.s might well be-

star of morn seem

Parts from a bank of snow, and by His princess, or indeed the stately

and by Queen,

Slips into golden cloud, the maiden He ansvver'd: "Earl, entreat her

rose, by my love.

And left her maiden couch, and Albeit I give no reason but my wish,

robed herself, That she ride with me in her faded
Help'd by the mother's careful hand silk."

and eye,
Without a mirror, in the gorgeous

gown ;
Who, after, turn'd her daughter

round, and said,
'^'.; never yet had seen her half so

fair ;
And call'd her like that maiden in

the tale.

Yniol with that hard message went;

it fell
Like flaws in summer laying lusty

corn:
For Enid, all abash'd she knew not

why,
Dared not to glance at her good

mother's face.
But silently, in all obedience.

Whom Gwydion made by glamor Her mother silent too, nor helping

out of flowers, her,

And sweeter than the bride of Cas- Laid from her limbs the costly-

sivelaun, broider'd gift,

Flur, for whose love the Roman And robed them in her ancient suit

Csnsar hrst

agam,

Invaded Britain, " But we beat him And so descended. Never man re-
back, joiced

234

IDYLLS OF THE KING

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 wlih her sweet face satis-
fied;

Then seeing cloud upon the mother's
brow,

Her by both hands he caught, and
sweetly said,

" O T.y new mother, be not wroth
or grieved
A.c thy 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 1 reach'd this

ruin'd hall.
Beholding one so bright in dark

estate,
I vow'd that could I gain her, our

fair 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 ; fain I would the

two
Should love each other: how can

Enid find
A nobler friend? Another thought

was mine;
I came among you here so suddenly,
That tho' her gentle presence at the

lists

Might well have served for proof

that 1 was loved,
I doubted whether daughter's ten-
derness,
Or easy nature, might not let

itself
Be molded by your wishes hr her

weal ;
Or whether some false sense in her

own self
Of my contrasting brightness, over-
bore
Her fancy dwelling in this dusky

hall;
And such a sense might make her

long for court
And all its perilous 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 cr'ild

cast aside
.\ plendor dear to women, new to

her.
And therefore dearer; or if not so

new.
Yet therefore tenfold dearer by the

power
Of intermitted usage; 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, witli,
on her knees.

GERAINT AND ENID

235

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.

Now thrice that morninf Guine-
vere had climb'd

The giant tower, from whose high
crest, they say.

Men saw the goodly hills of Somer-
set,

And white sails flying on the yellow
sea;

But not to goodly hill or yellow sea

Look'd the fair Quee.n, but up tha
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

ceremony.

And this was on the last year's

Whitsuntide.
But Enid ever kept the faded silk,
Remembering how nrst he came on

her,
Drcst in that dress, and how lie

loved her in it,

And all her foolish fears about the

dress,
And all his journey toward her, as

himself
Had told her, and their coming to

the court.

And now this morning when he

said to her,
" Put on your ••orst and meanest

dress," she lound
And took it, and array'd he «if

therein.

GERAINT AND ENID

PLRBLIND race of miserable men
How many among us at this very

hour

Do forge a life-long trouble for our-
selves.

By taking true for false, or false for
true;

Here, thro' the feeble twilight of
this world

Groping, how many, until we pass
and reach

That other, where we see as we are
seen!

So fared it with Geraint, who

issuing forth
That morning, when they both had

got to horse,
Perhaps because he loved her pas-
sionately.
And felt that tempest brooding

round his heart.
Which, if he spoke at all, woi.ld

break perforce
Upon a head so dear in thunder,

said :
" Not at my side. I charge thee ride

before,
Ever a good .ay on before; and this

1 charge tluc, on thy duty as a wife,

236

idylls of the king

Whatever happens, not to spt ik to
me,

No, not a word!" and Enid was
aghast ;

And forth they rode, but scarce
three paces on,

When crying out, " Effeminate as I
am,

I will not fight my way with gilded
arms.

All shall be iron;" he loosed a
mighty purse,

Hung at his belt, and hurl'd it
toward the squire.

So the last sight that Enid had of
home

Was all the marble threshold flash-
ing, strown

With gold and scattcr'd coinage, and
the squire

Chafing his shoulder: then he cried
again,

"To the wilds!" and Enid leading
down the tracks

Thro' which he bade her lead him on,
they past

The marches, and by bandit-haunted
holds.

Gray swamps and pools, waste places
of the hern,

And wildernesses, perilous paths,
they rode:

Round was their pace at first, but
slacken'd soon :

A stranger meeting them had surely
thought

They rode so slowly and they look'd
so pale,

Tl at each had suffer'd some exceed-
ing wrong.
For he was cv?r saving to him-
self,
" O I that w asted time to tend upon
her,

To cotiipass her with sweet observ-
ances,
To dress her beautifully and keep
her true ' —

And there he broke the sentence in

his heart
Abruptly, as a man upon his tongue
May break it, when his passion

masters him.
And she was ever praying the sweet

heavens
To save her dear lord whole from

any wouad.
And ever in her mind she cast about
For that unnoticed failing in herself,
Which made him look so cloud\ and

so cold ;
Till the great plover's human whistle

amazed
Her heart, and glancing round the

waste she fcar'd
1 every v\avering brake an ambus-
cade.
Then thought again, " If there be

such in me,
I might amend it by the grace of

Heaven,
H he would onl" speak and tell me

of it."

But when the fourth part of the

day was gone.
Then Enid was aware of three tall

knights
On horseback, wholly arm'd, behind

a rock
In shadow, waiting for them, caitiflEs

ail;
And heard one crying to his fellows,

Look,
Here comes a laggard hanging down

his head.
Who ^eems no bolder than a beaten

h' and ;
Come, we will slay him and will

have his horse
And armor, and his damsel shall be

ours."

Then Enid ponder'd In her heart,
and said •
" I will go back a little to my lord,

GERAINT AND ENID

And I will tell him all thfir caitiff

talk;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me,
Far liefer by his dear hand had I

die,
Than that my lord should suffer

loss or shame."

Then she went back some paces
of return

Met his full frown timidly firm, and
said ;

" My lord, I saw three bandits by tlie
rock

Waiting to fall on you, and heard
them boast

That they would slay you, and pos-
sess your horse

And armor, and your damsel should
be theirs."

He made a wrathful answer:
"Did I wish

Your warning or your silence? one
command

I laid upon you, not to speak to me,

And thus ye keep it! Well, then,
look — for now,

Wliether ye wish me victory or de-
feat.

Long for my life, or hunger for my
death,

Yourself shall see mv vigor is not
lost."

'fhen Ivnid waitid pale and sor-
rowful,

And do\vn upon him bare the bandit
three.

And at the midmost charging.
Prince Geraint

Dravc the long spear a ci-bit thro'
his breast

A )d out beyond; and then against
his brace

Of comrades, each of v, horn had
broken on him

A lance that splinter'd like an icicle.

Swung from his brand a windy buf-
fet out

Once, twice, to right, to left, and
stunn'd the twain

Or slew them, and dismounting like
a man

That skins the wild beast after slay-
ing him,

Stript from the three dead wolves of
woman born

The three gay suits of armor which
they wore.

And let the bodies lie, but bound
the suits

Of armor on their horses, each on
each.

And tied the bridle-reins of all the
three

Together, and said to her, " Drive
them on

Before you ; " and she drove them
thro' the waste.

He follow'd nearer: ruth began to

work
Against his anger in him, while he

watch 'd
The being he loved best in all the

world,
With difficulty in mild obedience
Driving them on: he fain had spoken

to her.
And loosed in words of sudden fire

the vv rath
And smoider'd wrong that burnt

him all within ;
But evermore it seem'd an easier

thing
At once without remorse to strike

her dead,
Than to cry " Halt," and to her own

bright face
Accuse her of the least immodesty:
And thus tongue-tied, it made him

wroth the more
That she ro. .'tl speak whom his own

ear had heard

238

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Call herself false: and sufferinK thus

he made
Minutes an ape: but in scarce longer

time
Than at Caerleon the full-tided

L'sk,
Before he turn to fall seaward aKain,
Pauses, did P'.nid, keeping watch,

behold
In the first shallow shade of a deep

wood,
IL'fore 1 gloom of stubborn-shafted

oaks,
Three other horsemen waiting,

wliolly arm'd.
Whereof one seem'd far larger than

her lord.
And shook her pulses, crying, " Look,

a prize!
Three horses and three goodly suits

of arms.
And all in charge of whom? a girl:

set on."
" Nay," said the second, " yonder

comes a knight."
The third, " A craven ; how he hangs

his head."
The giant answer'd merrily, " Yea,

but one?
Wait here, and when he passes tall

upon him.''

And Enid ponder'd in her heart
and said,

" I will abide the coming of my
lord,

And I will tell him all their villainy.

My lord is weary with the fight be-
fore,

And they will fall upon him un-
awares.

I need: must disobey him for his
good ;

How should I dare obey him to his
larm ?

Needs must I speak, and the' he kill
me for it,

1 save a life dearer to me than
mine."

And she abode his coming, and

said to h.iTi
Witii timid firmness, " Have 1 leave

to s|" ak ? "
He said, " Ye take it, speakmg," and

she spoke.

" There lurk three villains yonder

in the wood,
And each of thein is wholly arm'd,

and one
Is larger-limb\l than you are, and

they say
That they will fall upon you while

ye pass."

To which 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 ruffle me so

much
As you that not obey me. Stand

a'iide,
And ii I fall, cleave to the better

man."

And Enid stood aside to wait the

event,
Not dare to watch the combat, only

breathe
Short fits of prayer, at every stroke

a breath.
And he, she dreaded most, bare

down upon him.
Aim'd at the hilm, his lance err'd ;

but Geraint's,
A little in the late encounter

strain'd.
Struck thro' the bulky bandit's corsc'

let home,

GERAINT AND ENID

239

And tiien brake short, and down his

enemy roU'd,
And there lay still; as he that tells

the tale
Saw once a great piece of a promon-

torj',
That had a sapling £- vwinn on it,

slide
From th" long shore-cliff's windy

walls to the b( .ich,
And there lie still, and yet the sap-
ling grew :
So lay [he man transfixt. iiis

craven pair
Of comrades making slowlier at the

Prince,
When now they saw their bulwark

fallen, stood ;
On whom the victor, to confound

them more,
Sp" 'i with l.is terrible war-cry;

for as one,
That listens near a torrent moun-
tain-brook,
All thro' the crash of the near cata-
ract hears
The drumming thunder of the huger

fall
At distance, where the soldiers wont

to hear
His voice in battle, and be kindled

by it,
And foemen 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 tied the bridle-reins of all the

three

Together, and said to her, " Drive

them on
Before you," and she drove them

thro' the wood.

He follow'! H'-arer still: the pain

she had
To keep them in the wild ways of

the wood.
Two sets of three laden with jing-
ling arms,
1 ogethcr, served a little to disedge
The sharpness of that pain about her

heart:
And they themselves, like creatures

gently born
Rut into bad han^ls fall'n, and now

so long
By bandits groom'd, prick d their

light ears, and felt
Her Io\x firm voice and tender gov-

ernment.

So thro' the green gloom of the

wood they past,
\nd issuing under open heavens

beheld
.1 little town with towers, upon a

rock,
And close beneath, a meadow gem-
like chased
In the brown wild, and mowers

mowing in it:
And down a rocky pathway from the

place
There came a fair-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

meadow ground.
He, when thi fair-h. ir'd youth came

by him, Sf^i.i,
" Friend, let her eat ; the damsel is

so faint."

240

IDYLLS OF THE KING

"Yea, willingly," replied the youth;

" and thou,
My lord, eat also, tho' the fare is

coarse.
And only meet for mowers;" then

set down
His basket, and dismounting on the

sward
They let the horsis graze, and ate

themselves.
And Enid took a little delicately,
Less having stomach lor it than de-
sire
To close with her lord's pleasure;

but Geraint
Ate all the mowers' victual un-
awares,
And when he found all empty, was

amazed ;
And " Boy," said he, " I have eaten

all, but take
A horse and arms for guerdon;

choose the best."
He, reddening in extremity of de-
light,
" My lord, you overpay me titty-

fold."
" Ye will be all the \\ealthier," cried

the Prince.
" I take it as free gift, then," said

the hoy,
" Not guerdon; for myself can easily.
While your good damsel rests, re-
turn, 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 thou art; he loves

to know
Wlien men of mark are in his terr -

tory :
And he will have thee to his palace

here.
And serve thee costlier than with
mowers' fare."

Then said Geraini, " I wish no

better fare:
I never ate « ith angrier appetite
Than when 1 left your mowers dln-

nerless.
And into no Karl's p.ilace will I go.
I know, (iod knows, too muJi of

palaces !
And if he want m' let him come to

me.
But hire us some fan chamber for

the night,
And stalling for the horses, and

return
^Vith victual for these men, and let

us know."

" Yea, my kind lord," said the

glad youth, and went.
Held his head high, and thought

himself a knight,
And up the rock) pathway disap-

pear'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

remark'd
The lusty mowers laboring dinner-

le;-,s.
And uatch'd the sun blaze on the

turning scythe.
And after nodded sleepily In the

heat.
But she, remembering her old ruin'd

hall,
And all the windy clamor of the

daws

GERAINT AND ENID

241

About her hollow turret, pluck'd the

gruis
There growing longest by tlie int-ad-

o« s cd^r,
And into many a listless annulet,
Now over, now beneath her mar-
riage ring,
Wove and unwove it, till the boy

return'd
And told them ot 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 back-
ward to the wall,

And midmost of a rout of roisterers,

Femininely fair and dissolutely pale,

Her suitor in old years before Ger-
aint,

Enter'd, the wild lord of the place,
Limours.

He moving up with pliant courtli-
ness.

Greeted Geraint full face, but
stealthily.

In the mid-warmth of welcome and
graspt hand.

Found Enid with the corner of his
eye.

And knew her sitting sad and soli-
tary.

1 hen cried (Jeraint for wine and
goodly cheer

1 o feed the sudden guest, and sump-
tuously

According to his fa.^hion, bade the
host

Call in what men soevir were his
friends,

.'\nd feast with these in honor of
their Earl;

" And care not for the -ost ; the cost
is mine."

And wine and food were brought,

and Earl I.imours
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,
VV^hen wine and free companions

kindled him,
Was wont to glance and sparkle like

a gem
Of fifty facets; thus he moved the

Prince
To laughter and his comrades to

applause.
'Ihen, when the Prince was merry,

ask'd Limours,
" "\'our 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 doth not

speak to me."
Then rose Limours, and looking at

his feet,
Like him who tries the bridge he

fears may fail,

!42

IDYLI.S or 11 li: KING

Crost and came iifar, lifti-il aiimiiij;

cyt's,

Bow'd at her side and uttcr'd uliis-
pcringly:

" Knid, the pilot star of my lone
life,

Eni.l, my early and my only love,

Enid, the loss of whom hath turn'd
me wild —

What chance is tliis? how is it I see
you here?

Ye are in my power at last, are in
my power.

Vet fear me not: I call mine own
self wild.

But keep a touch of sweet civility

Here in the heart and waste of wil-
derneb-s.

1 thought, but that your father came
between,

In former days you saw me favor-
ably.

And if it were so do not keep it
back:

Make me a little happier: let me
know it :

Owe you me nothing for a life half-
lost?

Yea, yea, the whole dear debt of all
you are.

And, Enid, you and he, I see v.ith

joy.

Ye sit apart, you do not speak to

him.
You come with no attendance, pajje

or maid,
To serve you — doth 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 laugh-
able in all eyes,
Not while they loved them; and

your wretched dress,

A w rctihcd insult on you, dumbly

speaks
^ our story, that this man hms ynu

no more.
^ Our beaut\ is no beauty to hini

i!'A\ :
A C'lmninn i .iii^e — r.^ht v\t I

kiMw it - - pali'd —
Fur 1 knn\\ men: nor will ye w ii

him back,
I'or the man's love once ^niie never

return-.
JJut here .-. one whd mves you as of

old;
With more exceeding passion than

of old
Good, speak the \ord: my )llowers

ring him round :
He sits unauii'd; 1 hold a finger up;
They unde.-tand: nay; 1 do not

mean blood :
Nor nceil ye look so sea' d at what I

say:
My malice is no deeper than a moat.
No stronger than a wall: tiiere is the

keep;
He shall not cross us more; speak

but the w ord :
Or speak it not; but then by Him

that made me
The one true h ver whom you ever

own'd,
I will make use of all the power I

have.
O pardon nie! the madness of that

hou r.
When first I parted from thee,
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;

i
I

GhRAINT AND hXID

24-?

And answer'd with such cratt as

u oiiirn use,
Guilty or guiltless, to stave oil a

t'hancr
'li.it hrraks upon thcni perilously,

and sai<i :

Karl, if you love ine as in for-
nirr years.

And do not practise on nie, come
with morn.

And snatch me fruin i:im ,i> by vio-
lence ;

Leave me to-nii;lu I am weary to
the death.'

Low at leave taking, with his
brandish'd phinie

lirushinj; his instep, bow'd the all-
amorous Larl,

And the stout Prince bade him a loud
good nit;ht.

He movii , homeward h hbled to his
men,

flow Enid n< er loved a man but
m,

Nor red a broken egg-shell for her
lord.

But Knid left alone with Prince

Geraint,
r)ebating his command 'if silence

given,
And that she now perforce must

violate it.
Held commune with herself, and

while she held
He fell ash'ep, and Enid had no

he.-' rt
To wa^e him, hut hung o'er him,

wholly pleased
T find him yet unwounded after

fight,
And hear him breathing low and

equally.
Annn she rose, and stepping lightly,

hcap'd
riie pieces of his armor in one place,

All to he their airainst a tudi.eii

neeJ ;
I hen dii/rd awhile herself, but over-
toil 'd

Hy that day's (;rief and travel, evei
more

Secni'd catching at a rootless thorn,
,;nd then

VV^ent slipping down I'lrrible preci-
pices,

And stron;;ly striking out her limbs
aw oke ;

Then thought she !uard the wild
Earl at the dooi ,

With all his rout oi random tol-
louers,

Sound on a dreadful truiiijiet, sum-
moning her;

Which was the red cock slwmting to
the light.

As the gray lawn stole o'er the
dewy world.

And ^.'limmer'd on his armor in the
room.

And once again she lose to look at

But touch'd it unawares: jangling,

the casque
Fell, and he started up and stared at

her.
Then breaking nis command of

silence given.
She told him all that Earl Limours

had said,
P!!xcept the passage that hi ived her

not ;
Nor left untold the craft herself had

used ;
But ended with apology so sweet,
Low-spoKcn, 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, " V'our sweet faces make

good fellows fo"'s

244

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Ami traitors. Call the liD'.t ami bid

liifii brinn
Charprr and palfrry." Si> siif kjlidcd

out
Amonii the tiiavy brrathinn^ of the

lioiisf,
And lilcr a household Spirit at the

wall".
Beat, till '.hf v\oltc tiie slcrprr*, and

rcturn'd :
Then tendin|{ her rout;h lord, tho'

all unask'<l,
In silentf, did him service as a

squire ;
Till issuing arm'd he found tlie host

and tried,
"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 tlie

worth of one! "
" Ye will be all the wealthier," said

the Prince,
And then to Enid, "Forward! and

to-day
I charge you, Knid, 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 rid-
ing first,

I hear the violent threats you do not
hear,

I see the danger which you cannot
see:

Then not to give you warning, th.it
seems hard ;

Almost beyond me: yet I would
obey."

" Vea so," said he, " do it: br not

too wise ;
Seeing that >c are wedded to a man,
,N()t all mismated with a yawning

clown.
Hut one with arms to guard his head

and yours,
With eyes to fmd vou out however

t.iri
And ears to hear you even in his

dreams."

Witli that he turn'd and lf)ok'd as
keenly at her

As careful robins eye the diKer's
toil;

And that within her, which a wan-
ton fool.

Or h:isty judger would have call'd
her guilt.

Made her cheek burn and either eye-
lid fall.

And Geraint look'd and wa.s not
satisfied.

Then forward by a way vvhich,

beaten broad.
Led from the territory of false

Limours
To the waste earldom of another

earl,
Doorm, whom his shaking vassals

call'd 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 yes-

ter-morn,
It well-nigh made her cheerful; till

Geraint
Waving an angry hand as who

should say
" Y'e watch me," sadden'd all her

heart again.
But while the sun yet beat a dewy

blade

GERAIM AND KNID

24';

I'lir sound of many a hrnvilvKallop-

inn hoot
Smote (H hrr rar, anil tiiinm;; round

slir saw
Dust, and tlir point-. .>i laiui> liic Lcr

in it.
Thrn not to diMibrv licr lunl '5 lic-

hcst,
And yet to n'lve liiiii vvjiiiin^;, lor he

rodr
As if lie licani nor, ino> ir)^ baiL she

hrid
Ilir lintjcr up, ajul pointed t!i the

(lust.
At v\hiih the warrior in hi-, olisti-

nacy,
Hetausf she kept tlie letter of his

word,
Was in a manner pleased, and turn-
ing, stood.
And in a moment after, wild Li-

niours,
Rome on a black horse, like a thun-
der-cloud
WTiose skirts are loosen'd by the

breaking str)rni,
Half ridden off with by the thin^

be rode.
And all in passion uttering a dry

shriek,
Dash'd on Geraint, who closed with

hiin, and bore
Down by the length of lance and

arm beyond
The crupper, and so left him stunn'd

or dead.
And overthrew the next that follow'd

him.
And blindly nish'd on all the rout

behind.
But at the flash and motion of the

man
They vanish'd panic-stricken, like a

shoal
Of darting fish, that on a summer

morn
A down the crystal dvkes at Canie-
lot

Come slipping o'er their shadows on

the sanii.
Hut it a man who stands upon the

brink
Hut lift a shinin^; hand against the

sun.
There is not left the twinkle of a fin
Hetwixt the cress) islets white in

flower ;
So, scared bi.t at the motion of the

man,
Med all tli<' boon coti-panions of the

Farl,
And letr I'im l\ing in the public

w .'v ;
So vanish friendships only made in

vv ine.

'I hen like a stormy sunlight

smiled (jeraint.
Who saw the chargers of the two

that fell
Start from their fallen lords, and

wildly fly,
Mi\t with the flyers. " 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;
r cannot steal or plunder, no nor

beg:
And so what say ye, shall we strip

him there
■^'our lover? has your palfrey heart

enoi'gh
To hear his armor.' shall we fast, or

dine?
No? — then do thou, bsing right

honest, pray
That we may meet the horsemen of

Earl Doorni,
I too would still be honest." Thus

he said :
And sadly ?:• :ing on her bridle-reins,

246

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And ansvviing not one word, she
led 'he way.

Upon her, and she wept beside 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 witli Geraint, who being

prick'd
In combat with the follower of

Limours,
Bled underneath his armor secretly,
And so rode on, nor to. 1 his gentle

wife
What ail'd him, hardly knowing it

himself,
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 clashing of

his fall.
Suddenly came, and at his side all

pale
Dismounting, loosed the fastenings

of hi> arms.
Nor let her tiue hand falter, nor

blue eye
Moisten, till she had liehted on i;.s

wound.
And tearing off her veil of faded silk
Had bared her forehead to the blis-
tering 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 disolation came

And many past, but none re-
garded 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
show er :

One took him for a victim of FarL
Doorm,

Nor dared to waste a perilous pity
on him:

Another hurrying past, a man-at-
arms,

Rode on a mission to the bandit
Farl;

Half whistling and half singing a
coarse song,

He drove the dust against her veil-
less eyes :

Another, flying from the urath of
Doorm

Hefore an ever-fancied arrow, irade
The long way smoke beneath him in
his fear ;

At which her palfrey whinnying
lifted heel,

j\nd scour'd into the coppices and
\\as lost,

While the great charger stood,
grieved like a man.

Lut at the point of noon the huge

Farl Doorm,
Broad-faced with under-fringe of

russet beard,
Bound on a foray, rolling eyes of

prey,
Came riding with a hundred lances

up;
Bur ere he came, like one that hails

a ship,
Cried out w ith a big voice, " What,

is he dead ? "

GERAINT AND ENID

247

" No, no, not dead ! " she answcr'd

in all haste.
" Would some of ) our kind people

take him up,
And bear him hence out of this cruel

sun?
Most sure am I, quite sure, he is not

dead."

Then said Earl Doorm: 'Well,

if he be not dead.
Why wail ye fo' him thus? ye seem

a child.
And be he dead, I count you for a

fool-
Your ua..ing will not quicken him:

dead or not.
Ye mar a comely face with idiot

tear>.
Ye:, 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, who

advanced,
Kach growlinc; like a dog, when his

good bone
Seems to be pluck 'd at by the village

boys
Who love to vex him eating, and >,e

fears
To lose his bone, and lays his foot

upon it,
Cinawing and growling: so the

ruffians growl'd,
Fearing to lose, and all for a dead

man,
1 heir chance of booty froni the

morning's raid.

Yet raised and laid him on a litter-
bier.
Such as they brought upon their

forays out
For those that might be wounded ;

laid him on it
All in the hollow of his shield, and

took
And bore him to the naked hall of

Doorm,
(His gentle charger following him

unled)
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 or 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.
Till at the last he waken'd from his

swoon.
And found his own dear bride pro;--

ping his head,
And chafing his faint hands, and

calling to him ;
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

uttermost.

248

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And say to his own heart, " She And rising on the sudden he said,

weeps for nie." " tat.

1 never yet beheld a thing so pale.

But in the fallinK afternoon re- God's curse, it makes me mad to see

turn'd you weep.

The huge Earl Doom, with plunder Eat! Look yourself. Good luck

to the hall. had your good man,

His lusty spearmen foUow'd him For were I dead who is it would

with noise: weep for me?

Each hurling ('own a heap of things Sweet lady, never since 1 first dr-v

that rang breath

Against the pavement, cast his lance Have I beheld a lily like yourself.

aside, And so there lived some color in

And dotf'd his helm: and then there your cheek,

fluttcr'd in. There is not one among my gentle-

Half-bold, half-frightened, with di- women

lated ejfs. Were fit to wear your slipper for a

A tribe of women, dress'd in many glove.

hues, But listen to me, and by me be ruled,

And mingled with the spearmen: And I will do the thing 1 have not

and Karl Uoorm done,

Struck with a knife's haft ha'd For ye shall share my earldom with

against the board, me, j-.irl)

And call'd for flesh and wine to feed And ve wul live like two birds in

his spears. one nest.

And men brought in whole hogs and And I will fetch you forage from all

quarter beeves, fields.

And all the hall uas dim with steam For I compel all creatures to my

of flesh: will."
And none spake word, but al: 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 her-
self,
To shun the wild ways of the lasvless

tribe.
But when Earl Doorm had eaten all

he would.
He roU'd his eyes a.bout the hall,

and found
A damsel drooping in a Cdrner of it.

He spoke: the brawny spearman

iet his cheek
Bulge with the unswai'm. 'd piece,

and turning stared;
While some, whose souls the old

serpent long had drawn
Down, as the worm draws in the

\vither'd leaf
And makes it earth, hiss'd each at

other's ear
What shall not he reco'ded —

women they.
Women, c what had been ',=jse

gracious things,

Then he remember'd her, and how But now desired the humbling of

she wept; their best,

And out of her there came a power "^'ea, would have help'd him to it:

upon him; a"d all at once

GERAINT AND ENID

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 speak,

But like a mighty patron, satisfied

With what himself had done so gra-
ciously.

Assumed that she had thank'd him,
adding, " Yea,

Eat and be glad, for I account you
mine."

She answer'd meekly, " i.ow
should I be glad

Henceforth in all the world at any-
thing,

Until my lord arise and look Ui'on
me? "

Here the huge Earl cried out upon
her talk,

As all but empty heart and weari-
ness

And sickly nothing; suddenly seized
on her.

And bare her by main violence to the
board,

And thrust the dish before her, cry-
ing, " 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. " Herel "
(And fiil'd a horn with wine and

held it t(, her),
"Lo! I, .nyself, when flush'd with

figK. or hot,
God's .urse, with anger — often I

aijself,

249

Before I well have drunken, scaice

can eat:
Drink, therefore, and the wine will

change your will."

" Not so," she cried, " by Heaven,

1 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 comipg up close to her, said at
last:
Girl, for I see ye scorn my cour-
tesies.

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 dres< ig it in rags? Amazed am

Beholding how ye butt against my

wish.
That I forbear you thus: cross me

no more.
At least put of! 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 eo
beautifully?

IDYLLS OF THE KING

250

Rise therefore; robe yourself in this:
obey."

He spoke, and one among his gen-

tle-womin
Display 'd a splendid silk of foreign

loom,
Where like a .hoaling 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 lifelong injuries burning un-
avenged,

And now their hour hiis come; and
Knid said :

" In this poor ^own my dear lord
found me first.
And loved me serving in my father s

hall:
In this poor gown I rode with him

to court,
And there the Queen array d me

like the sun:
In this poor gown he bade me clothe

mvself,
Wheri now we rode upon this tatal

quest
Of honor, where no honor can be

gain'd :
And this poor gown I will not cast

aside
Until himself arise a livlnf; man,
And bid me cast it. I have griefs
enough ;

Pray you be gentle, pray you let me
be:

I never loved, can never lovr but
him:

Yea, God, I . . . you of your gen-
tleness, „

He being as he is, to let mt je.

Then strode the brute Earl up

j.nd dou :i his . 11,
And took his isset beard between

his tc< h;
Last, coming up quite close, and i

hi- nood
Crying, I count it f no more avail,
Dame, to be ntle tha.. ungentle

with you ; . • .

Take my salute," unknightly with

tiat hand,
Howeve- lightly, smote her on the

chctt.

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
d'ad,"

Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter

cry.

As of a wild thing taken i a 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 door.
So died Earl Doorm by him he

counted dead.
And all the men and women in the

hall

GERAINT AND ENID

251

Rose when they saw the dead man

rise, and fled
Yelling as from a specter, 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
have undergone

That trouble which has left me
thrice your own :

Henceforward I will rather die than
douht.

And here I lay this penance on my-
self.

Not, the' mine own ears heard you
yestermorn —

You thought me sleeping, but I
heard you say,

I heard you say, that you were no
crue wife:

I swear I will not ask your meaning
in it:

I do believe yourself against your-
self.

And V, ill henceforward rather die
than doubt."

And Enid could not say one ten-
der word,

She felt 30 blunt and stupid at the
heart:

She only pray'd him, " Fly, they will
return

And slay you; fly, your charger is
without,

My palfrey lost." "Then, Enid,
shall you ride

Behind me." "Yea," said Enid,
" let us go."

And moving out they found the
stately horse,

Who now no n ire a vassal to the
thief,

But free to stretch his limbs in law-
ful fight,

Neigh 'd with all gladness as they

came, and stoop'd
With a low whinny toward the pair:

and she
Kiss'd the white star upon his noble

front.
Glad also; then Geraint upon the

horse
Mounted, and reach'd a hand, and

on his foot
She set her oivn and climb'd; he

turn'd his face
And kiss'd her t limbing, and she

cast her arms
About him, and at once they lode

away.

And never yet, since high in Para-
disc
O'er the four rivers the first roses

blew,
Came purer pleasure unto mortal

kind
Than lived thrc' her, who In that

perilous 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
Like that which kept the heart of

Eden grern
Before the useful trouble of tiie rain :
Yet not so misty were her meek blue

eyes
As not to see before them on the

path.
Right 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,
Liiie, with her mind all full of what
had chanced.

252

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Shrirk'd t'l the stran^iir, " Slay not a

ilcaJ mail I
" The voice of Enid," said the

kmi^ht : but she,
Behoidin;: it was Kdyrn, son of

Nudd,
Was moved so much the more, and

shrii'ic'd ai;ain,
" O cousin, slay not him who gave

you life."
And f.dyrn moving frankly forward

spake :
" My lord Geraint, I greet you with

all love;
I took you for a bandit knight of

Doorm ;
And fear not, Knid, I should fall

upon him,
Who love you, Prince, with some-
thing of the love
Wherewith «e love the Heaven that

chastens us.
For once when I was up so high in

pride
That I was halfway down the slope

to }Iell,
By overthrowing me you threw me

higher.
Now, made a knight of Artimr's

Table Round,
And since I knew this Earl, when I

myself
Was half a bandit in my lawless

hour,
I conic the mouthpiece of our King

to Doorm
(The King is close behind nip) bid-
ding him
Disband hiinself, and scatter all his

powers.
Submit, and hear the judgment of

the is.ii ;:

"He hears the judgment of the
King of kings,"
Cried the wan Prince; "and lo, the
powers of Doorm

Arc scattcr'd," and he pointed to the

tield,
Where, huddled here and tlieio on

nmutid :uid kiUiil,
Were men and women staring and

aghast,
Wliih some yet tied ; and ihen he

plainlier told
How the huge Earl lav slain within

his hall.
But when tlie knight besought him,

" Follow me,
Prince, to the camp, ?nd in the

King's own ear
Speak what has chanced; ye surely

have endured
Strange chancs here alone;" that

other flush (1,
And hung his head, and halted ir.

reply,
Fearing the mild face of the blame-
less King,
And after madness acted question

ask'd :
Till Edyrn crying, " U ye \\ill not

To Arthur, then will Arthur come

to you,"
" Enough," he said, " I follow," and

they ucnt.
But Enid in their going had two

fears,
t)ne from the bandit scatter'd in the

held.
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, perceiv-
ing, said:

" Fair and dear cousin, you that
most had cause

GKRAINT AND ENID

253

1 o fear me, fear no longer, I ani

changed.
Yourself were first tin- blameless

cause to make
My nature's pnciffui sparkle in the

blood
Ureak into furious tlaiiie; being re-

pulM.-d
H)' ^ iiiol and yourself, I schemed

and \\ r()u;ilit
Until I ovfrtiirn'd him; then set up
( With one main purpose ever at my

licart )
.\I) haughty jousts, and took a para-
mour ;
Did her mock-honor as the fairest

fair,
And, toppling over all antagonism,
So wax'il in pride, that I believed

myself
I nc(jnqucrable, for I was well-nijjh

mad :
And, but for my main purpose in

these jousts,
I should have slain your father,

seizeil yourself.
I lived in hope that sometime you

would come
To these my lists wi'h l..m whom

best you loved ;
And there, poor cousin, with your

meek blue eyes,
The truest eyes that ever answer'd

Heaven,
Ueliold me overturn and trample on

him.
Then, had you cried, or knelt, or

pray'd to me,
I should not less have klll'd him.

And you came, —
But once you came, — and with your

own true eyes
Beheld the man you loved (I speak

as one
Speaks of a service done him) over-
throw
My proud self, and my pjrpose
three years old.

And set his foot upon me, and ^ive

me life.
1 here was 1 broken ilown ; there « as

I saved :
rho' thence 1 rode all-shamed,

hating the life
He gave me, meaning to be rid of it.
And all the penanie 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

kii(;un, I found.
Instead of scornful pity or pure

scorn,
Such fine reserve and noble reticence,
Manners so kind, )et stately, such a

grace
Of tendcrest courtesy, that I began
J o glaiioe behi[:d me at my former

life.
And find that it liad been the wolf's

indeed ;
And oft I talk'd with Dubric, the

high saint.
Who, with mild hear of holy oratory,
Subdued me s<)mewhat to that gen-
tleness.
Which, whi-n it weds with man-
hood, 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 fea- not cousin ; I am changed
indeed."

He spoke, and Enid easily be-
lieved,
Like sir.-ple noble natures, credulous

254

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Of what tlu'y loiij; for, i;i)od in friend

or foe,
Tlicre most in those who moit have

done them ill.
And whcti they rcadi'd the camp the

Kinn himself
Advanced Ui gtfft them, and behold-

int; her
Tho' pale, yet happy, ask'd her not

a word,
But went apart with Kdyrn, whom

he held
In converse for a little, and rcturn'd,
And, gravely smiling;, lifted her from

horse.
And kiss'd her with all pureness,

brotherlike,
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 nray'd
me fci my leave

To move ■) your own land, a:.u
there defend

Your marches, I was prick'd with
some reproof,

As one that let foul wrong stagnate
and be.

By having lookM too much thro'
alien eyes,

And wrought too long with dele-
gated hands.

Not used mine ou n : but now be-
hold me come

To cleanse this common sewer of all
my realm.

With r.ilyrn and with others: have
ye look'd

At Edyrn ? have ye seen how nobly
chan;^ed?

This work of his is great and won-
derful.

His very face with change of heart
is changed.

The world will nut believe a man

repents:
And this wise world of ours is

mainly right.
Full seldom doth a man repent, or

use
Both grace and will to pick the

vicious quitch
Of blood aiid custom wholly out of

him,
And make all clean, and plant himself

afresh.
Kdyrn has done it, weeding all his

heart
7\s I will weed this land before I go.
1, therefore, made him of our Table

Round,
Not rashly, but have proved him

everyway
One of our noblist, our most valor-
ous.
Sanest and most obedient: and indeed
This work of Edyrn wrought upon

himself
After a life of violence, seems to me
A thousand-fold more great and won-
derful
T han 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

Hi work was neither great nor won-
derful.

And past to Enid's tent; and thither
came

The King's o vn leech fo look into
his hurt;

And P'nid tended on him there; and
there

GERAINT AND ENID

255

Her constant motion round him, and

the brfath
Of hrr swtc: tendance hovering over

him,
Kill'd all the genial courses of his

blood
With deeper and with ever deeper

love
As the south-v\est that blowing Bala

lake
Fills all the sacred Dec. So past the

days.

Hut 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
I>ong since, to guard the justice of

the King:
He look'd and found them wanting;

and as now
Men weed the white horse on the

Herkshire hills
To keep him bright and clean as

heretofore,
He rooted out the slothful officer
Or guilty, which far 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.

Thi.i, when Geraint was whole
again, they past
^^';th Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk.
There the great Queen once more
embraced her friend,

And clothed her in apparel tike the

day.
And tho' Geraint could never take

agam
I hat 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 knights 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 tourna-
ment,
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
Enid the Good; and in their halls

arose
The cry of children, Enids and Ger-

aints
Of times to be; nor did he 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.

2^6

IDYLLS OF THL KL\(]

BALIN AND HALAN

Pei.LAM, the Kin^:, uho hrid ami
lost with Lot

In that hrst war, ami had his realm
restored

Hut render'd tributary, tail'il "t late

To send hi^ tribute, wherefore Ar-
thur 1 I'd

His treasurer, one of niany years, and

spake,
" Cio thou with him and him and
bring it to us.

Lest we should .et one truer on his
throne.

Man's word is God in man."

His Haron said
"We CO hut harlcen: there be two

strangle knijjhts
\Vhr sit near Canielut at a fountaiti

side,
A mile h^'neath the forest, cliallent;iii);
And overthrowing every knight who

comes.
Wilt thou I undertake tiiem as we

pass.
And send them to thee?"

Arthur laugh'd upon him.

" Old friend, too oKl to be so yoiing,
depart,

Delay not thou lor ought, but let
them sit,

Until they find a lustier than them-
selves."

So these departed. Early, one fair

dawn.
The light-'ving'd spirit of his youth

rcturn'd
On Arthur's heart; he arm'd himself

and went.
So coming to the fountain-side beheld
Dalin and Balan sittint: statuclikc.
Brethren, to right and left the spring,

that down.

From underneath a plume of lady
tern.

Sang, and the san J danced at the bot-
tom of it.

And on the light of Ha' Balin's
horse

\Va.s fast beside an alder, on the left

( )f B.ilan Baian's near a poplartree.

" Fair Sirs," said .Arthur, " where-
fore sit >e here ? "

Balin and Balan answer'd, " F"or
the sake

Of glorv ; we be mightier men than
all'

In Arthur's court; that also have we
proved ;

l-or whatsoever knight against us
came

Or I or he have ea^il^ c)verthrown."

"I, too," ? (ill Arthur, ".am of
Arthur , hall,

Hut rather proven in his I'aynim wars

Than famous jousts; but see, or
proven or not.

Whether me likewise ye can over-
throw."

And Arthur lightly smote the breth-
ren down,

And lightly so return'd, and no man
knew.

Tlun Balin rose, and Balan, and

beside
The caroling water set themselves

again.
And spake no word until the shadow

turn'd ;
When from the fringe of coppice

round them burst
A spangled pursuivant, and cr}ing

" Sirs,
Rise, follow! ye be sent for by the

King,"
They follow'd ; whom when Arthur

seeing .ask'd:
"Tell me your names; why sat ye

by the well ? "
Balin the stillness of a minute broke

BALIX AND HALAN

^57

Saying, "An unnirl')<!i()ii>, name to
thcf,

Halin, ' the Savage '— that addition
thinr —

My brother and ni) tutrfr, this man

here,
Balan. I smote upon the naked

sLull
A til ill of thine in open iiail, my

hand
Was gauntletcd, half slew him ; for I

heard
He had spoken evil of nir; thy just

w rath
Sent me a three-yc;.rs' exile from

tliine eye
I hav" not lived my life dcliuht-

soniely :
For I that did that violence to thy

thrall,
Had often wrougli' some fury on mv-

self,
Saving for Balan: those three king-
less years
Have past — were wormwood-bitter

to nic. King,
Methought that if we sat beside the

well,
And hurl'd to ground what knight

soever spiirr'd
Against us, thou uould'st take me

gladlier back,
And make, as ten-times worthier to

be thine
Than twenty Halins, Balan knight.

I ha\e said.
Not so — not all. A man of thine

to-day
Abash'd us both, and brake my

boast. Thy will ? "
Said Arthur, " Thou hast ever spoken

truth;
I hy too fierce manhood would not

let thee lie.
Rise, my true knight. As children

learn, be thou
Wiser for falling! walk with me,
and move

I'o music with thine Order and the

King.
Thy cliair, a grief to all the breth-

'• >', ■>lands
\'acam, but thou retake it, mine

again! "

Thereafter, when Sir Balin enter'd
hall,

1 he Lost one Found was greeted m
in Heaven

With joy that blazed itself in wood-
land wealth

( )f leaf, and gayest garlandage of
Howers,

Along the walls and down the
board ; they sat,

And cup clash'd cup; they drank and
someone sing.

Sweet-voiced, a song of welcome,
w hereupon

1 heir common shout in chorus,
mounting, made

fhnse b.inncrs of twelve battles over-
head

Stir, as they stirr'd of old, when
Arthur's host

Proclaim'd him Victor, and tlie day
uas won.

Then Balan added to their Older

lived
A wealthier life than heretofore with

these
And Balin, till their embassage re-

turn'd.

" Sir King," they brought report,

" we hardly found.
So bush'd about it is with ghxim,

the hall
Of him to whom ye sent us, Pcllam,

once
A Christless foe of thine as ever

dash'd
Horse agiinst horse; but seeing that

thy realm

MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART

ANSI und ISO TEST CHART No 2

!.o ^^ m

I.I

136

1 2.5
[12.2

? "^ llllffi

nil! 1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

^ APPLIED IIVHGE Inc

-'-3 ta5t Wa r. 'i'feel
mester. Ne« f^rk

^6) ■*82 - 0300 - Phor-'
'6) 288- 5989 - Fo.

Z58

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Hath prosper'd in the name of

Christ, the King
Took, as in rival heat, to holy

things;
And finds himself descended from

the Saint
Arimathsan Joseph; hirn who first
Brought the great faith to Britain

over seas;
He boasts iiis life as purer than thine

own ;
Eats scarce enow to keep his r"'se

abeat ;
Hath push'd aside iiis faithful wife,

nor lets
Or dame or damsel enter at his

gates
Lest he should be polluted. Ihis

pray King
Show'd us a shrine wherein were

wonders — yea —
Rich arks with priceless bones of

martyrdom,
Thorns of the crown and shivers of

the cross,
And therewithal (for thus he told

us) brought
By holy Joseph hither, that same

spear
Wherewith the Roman pierced the

side of Christ.
He much amazed us; after, when

we sought
The tribute, ansvver'd, ' 1 have quite

foregone
All matters of this world: Garlon,

mine heir,
Of him demand it,' which this Ciar-

lon gave
With much ado, railing at thine and
thee.

But when we left, in those deep

woods we found
A knight of thine spear-stricken

from behind.
Dead, whom wc buried; m.ore than

one of us

Cried out on Garlon, but a wood-
man there
Reported of some demon in thv

woods
Was once a man, who driven by evil

tongues
From all his fellows, lived alone,

and came
To learn black magic, and to hate

his kind
With such a hate, that when he died,

his soul
Became a Fiend, which, as the man

in life
Was wounded by blind tongues he

saw not whence,
Strikes from behind. This wood-
man show'd the cave
From which he sallies, and wherein

he dwelt.
We saw the hoof-print of a horse, no
more."

Then Arthur, " Let who goes be-
fore me, see
He do not fail behind me: foully

slain
And villainously! who will hunt for

me „

This demon of the woods? Said

Balan, "1!"
So claim'd tlie quest and rode away,

but first,
Embracing Balin, "Good, my

brother, hear!
Let not thy moods prevail, when I

am gone
Who used to lay them! hold them

outer fiends.
Who leap at thee to tear thee; shake

them aside,
Dreams ruling when wit sleeps! yea,

but to dream
That any of these would wrong thee,

wrongs thyself.
Witness their flowery welcome.
Bound are they

BALIN AND BALAN 259

To speak no evil. Truly safe for Hath hardly scaled with help a hun-

fears, Jred feet

My fears for thee, so rich a fellow- Up from the base: so Balin marvcl-

ship ing ^,ft

Would make me wholly blest: thou How far beyond him Lancelot

one of them, secm'd to move,

Be one mdeed : consider them, and Groan'd, and at times would mutter,

TU ■ u • • . • ■ , " '^^^^'^ ^'^ K'^''''

Iheir bearing m their common bond Born with the blood, not lea.nable

of love, divine,

No more of hatred than in Heaven B vnnd my reach. Well had I
. . 'tsf'f. foui<hten — well —

No moreof jealousy than in Para- In those fierce wars, struck hard —

disc."

So Balan warn'd, and went; Halin

remain 'd :
Who — for but three brief moons

had glanced auay
From being knighted till he smote

the thrall,
And faded from the presence into

years
Of exile — now would strictlier set

himself
To learn what Artliur meant by

courtesy.

and had I crown'd
With my slain self the heaps of

whom I slew —
So — better! — But this worship of

the Queen,
That honor, too, wherein she holds

him — this,
This was the sunshine that hath

given the man
A growth, a name that branches o'er

the rest,
And strength against all odds, ^nd
what the King
-■ So prizes — overprizes — gentleness.

Manhood, and knighthood; where- Her likewise would I worship an I

fore hover'd round might.

Lancelot, but when he mark'd his I never can be close with her. as

high sweet smile
In passing, and a transitory word
Make knight or churl or child or

damsel seem
From being sn.iled at happier in

themselves —
Sigh'd, as a boy lame-born beneath a

height.

he
That brought her hither. Shall I

pray the King
To let me bear some token of his

Queen
Whereon to gaze, remembering her
— forget
^, " ' . . ,, Mv heats and violences? live afresh?

1 hat glooms his valley, sighs to see What, if the Queen disdain'd to

the peak grant it! nav,

bun-Hush d, or touch at night the Being so stately-gentle, would she

northern star; make

For 0"e from out his village lately My darkness blackness? and with

climb d ],„^^, sweet grace
And brought report of azure lands She greeted my return! Bold will
and fair, I be

Far seen to left and right; a-u! he Some goodly cognizance of Guine-
nimself yj^P

26o

IDYLLS OF THE KING

In lieu of this rough bt-ast upon my

shield,
Langueii gules, and tooth'd with

grinning savagery."

And Arthur, when Sir Balin

sought him, said:
"What wilt thou bear?" Iklin

was bold, and aslc'd
Xo bear her own crown-royal upon

shield,
Whereat she smiled and turn'd her

to the King,
Who ansvver'd, " Thou shalt put the

crown to use.
The crown is bi't the sliadow of the

King.
And this a shadow's shadow, let him

have it.
So this will help him of his vio-
lences ! "
" No shadow," said Sir Balin, " O

my Queen,
But light to me! no shadow, O my

King
But golden earnest of a gentler

life!"

So Balin bare the crov\n, and all

the knights
Approved him, and the Queen, and

all the world
Made music, and he felt his being

move
In music with his Order, and the

King.

The nightingale, full-toned in mid-
dle May,

Hath ever ami anon a note so thin

It seems another voice in other
groves ;

Thus, after some quick burst of sud-
den wrath.

The music in him seem'd to change,
and grow

Faint and far-off.

And once he saw the thrall

His passion half had gauntleted to
death,

That causer of his banishment and
shame.

Smile at him, as he deem'd, presump-
tuously:

His arm half rose to strike again,
but fell:

The memory of that cogniiance on
shield

\\'eighted it down, but in himself he
moan'd:

" Too high this mount of Camelot
for me:

These high-set courtesies are not for
me.

Shall I not rather prove the worse
for these?

Fierier and stormier from restrain-
ing, break

Into some madness ev'n before the
Queen?"

Thus, as a hearth lit in a moun-
tain home.

And glancing on the window, when
the gloom

Of twilight deepens round it, seems
a flame

That rages in the woodland far be-
low,

So when his inoods were darken'd,
court and King

And all the kindly warmth of
Arthur's hall

Shadow'd an angry distance: yet he
strove

To learn the graces of their Table,
fought

Hard with himself, and seem'd at
length in peace.

Then chanced, one morning, that
Sir Balin sat
Close-bower'd in that garden nigh
the hall.

BALIN AND BALAN

261

A walk of roses ran from door to

door ;
A walk of lilies crost it to the

bow cr :
And down that ange of roses the

great Queen
Came with slow srep>, the morning

on lur face;
And all in shadow from the counter

door
Sir Lancelot as to meet her, then at

once,
As if he saw not, glanced asitle, and

paced
The long white walk of lilies toward

the boucr.
Follow'd the Queen; Sir Balin heard

her " Prince,
Art thou so little loyal to thy Queen,
As pass without good morrow to tliy

Queen?"
To whom Sir Lancelot with his eyes

on earth,
" Fain wou'd I still be loyal to the

Queen."
" Yea so," she said, " but so to pass

me by —
So loyal scarce is loyal to thyself.
Whom all men rate the king of cour-
tesy.
Let be: ye stand, fair lord, as in a
dream."

For see, how per feet-pure I As

light a flush
As hardly tints the blossom of the

quince
Would mar their charm of stainless

maidenhood."

" Sweeter to me," she said, '' this

garden rose
Deep-hued and many-folded ! sweeter

still
The wild-wood hyacinth and the

bloom of May.
Prince, we have ridd'n before among

the flowers
In those fair days — not all as cool

as these,
Tho' season-earlier. Art thou sad?

or sick ?
Our noble King will send thee his

own leech —
Sick? or for any matter anger'd at

me?"

Then Lancelot lifted his large

eyes; they dwelt
Deep-tranced on hers, and could not

fall : her hue
Changed at his gaze: so turning side

by side
They past, and Balin started from

his bower.

Then Lancelot with his hand

among the flowers
"Yea — for a dream. Last night

methought I saw
That maiden Saint who stands with

lily in hand
In yonder shrine. All round her

prest the dark.
And all the light upon her silver

face
Flow'd from the spiritual lily that

she held.
Lo! these her emblems drew mine

eyes — away :

" Queen ? subject ? but I see not

\^ hat I see.
Damsel and lover? hear not what I

hear.
My father hath begotten me in his

wrath.
I suflfer from the things before me,

know.
Learn nothing; am not worthy to be

knight ;
A churl, a clown ! " and in him

gloom on gloom
Dcepen'd : he sharply caught his

lance and shield,

262

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Nor stay'd to crave permission of tlie

king,
But, Iliad for strange adventure,

dash'd away.

He took the selfsame track as

Halan, saw
The fountain where they sat to-
gether, sigh'd,
" Was I not better there with him? "

and rode
The skyless woods, but under open

blue
Carp; on the hoarhead woodman at

a bough
Wearily hewing. " Churl, thine

ax ! " he cried.
Descended, and disjointed it at a

blow :
To whom the woodman utter'd won-

dcringly,
" Lord, thou couldst lay the Devil of

these uooils
If arm of tU-sIi could lay him."

Balin cried,
" Him, or the viler devil who plays

his part.
To lay that de\ il would lay the

Ucvil in me."
" Nay," said the churl, " our devil

is a truth,
I saw the Hash of him but yester-

evcn.
And some do say that our Sir Gar-
Ion, too
Hath learn'd black magic, and to

ride unseen.
Look to the cave." But Balin an-

swer'd him,
" Old fabler, these be fancies of the

churl,
Look to thy wooilcraft," and so leav-
ing him.
Now with slack rein and careless of

himself.
Now with dug spur and raving at

himself,

Now with droopt brow down the

long glades he rode;
So mark'd not on his right a cavern-
chasm
Yawn over darkness, where, nor far

within.
The whole day died, but dying,

gleam'd on rocks
Roof-pendent, sharp; and others

from the floor,
Tusklike, arising, made that mouth

of night
Whereout the Demon issued up

from Hell.
He mark'd not this, but blind and

deaf to all
Save that chain'd rage, which ever

yelpt within.
Past eastward from the falling sun.

At once
He felt the hollow-biaten mosses

thud
And tremble, and then the shadow

of a spear.
Shot from behind him, ran "long the

ground.
Sideways he started from the path,

and saw.
With pointed lance as if to pierce, a

shape,
A light of ar' lor b\' him flash, and

pass
And vanish in the woods; and fol-

low'd this,
But all so blind in rage that un-
awares
He burst his lance apainst a forest

bough,
Dishorsed himself, and rose again,

and fled
Far, till the castle of v King, the

hall
Of Pellam, lichen-bearded, grayly

draped
With streaming grass, appear'd,

low-built but strong;
The ruinous donjon as a knull of

moss,

BALIN AND BALAN

263

The battlement overtopt with ivy-
tods,
A home of bats, in every tower an

owl.

Then spake the men of rellam
cr> ing, " LonI,
Why wear ve this cro\Mi-ro\al upon

shield ? "
Said Baiin, " For tlie fairest and the

best
Of huiies living gave me this to

bear."
So stall'd his horse, and strode

across the court,
Hut found the greetings both of

knight and King
Faint in the low dark hall of ban-
quet: leaves
Laid their green faces flat against

the panes,
Sprays grated, and the canker'd

boughs without
Whined in the wood; for all was

hush'd within,
Till when at feast Sir Garlon like-
wise ask'd,
"Why wear ye that crown-royal?"

Balin said,
" The Queen we worship, Lancelot,

I, and all,
As fairest, best and purest, granted

me
To bear it ! " Such a sound — for

Arthur's knights
Were hated strangers in the hall —

as makes
The white swan-mother, sitting,

when she hears
A strange knee rustle thro' her secret

reeds,
Made Garlon, hissing; then he

sourly smiled.
"Fairest I grant her: I have seen;

but best,
Rest, purest? thou from Arthur's
hall, and yet

So simple! hast thou eyes, or if, are

these
So far besotted that they fail to see
1 his fair wife-u orship cloaks a

secret shame?
Truly, ye men of Arthur be but

hahcs."

A goblet on the hoard by Balin,
boss'd
With holy Joseph's legend, on his

right
Stood, all of masbiest bronze: one

side had sea
And ship and sail and angels blow-
ing on it :
And one was rough with wattling,

and the walls
Or that low church he built at Glas-
tonbury.
I his Bal'n graspt, but while in act

to hurl.
Thro' memory of that token on the

shield
Relax'd his hold: "I will be gen-
tle," he thought
" And passing gentle " caught his

hand away.
Then fiercely to Sir Garlon, " Eyes

have I
That saw to-day the shadow of a

spear,
Shot from behind me, run along the

ground ;
Eyes, too, that long have watch'd

how Lancelot draws
From homage to the best ami purest,

might.
Name, manhood, and a grace, but

scantly thine.
Who, sitting in thine own hall, canst

endure
To mouth so huge a foulness — to

thy guest,
Me, me of Arthur's Table Felon

talk!
Let be! no more! "

264

IDYLLS OF THE KING

But not the less by

night

The scorn of Garlon, poisoning all
his rest,

Stung him in dreams. At lt'nt;ili,
and dim thro' leaves

Blinkt the white morn, sprays grated,
and old boughs

Whined in the wood. He rose, de-
scended, met

The scorncr in the castle court, and
fain.

For hate and loathing, would have
past him by ;

But when Sir Garlon utter'd mock-
ing- wise;

" What, wear ye still that same
crown-scandalous? "

His countenance blacken'd, and his
forehead veins

Bloated, and branch'd ; and tearing
out of sheath

The brand, Sir Balln with a fiery,
" Hal

So thou be shadow, here I make
thee ghost,"

Hard upon helm smote him, and the
blade flew

Splintering in six, and clinkt upon
the stones.

Then Garlon, reeling slowly back-
ward, fell.

And Balin by the banneret of his
helm

Dragg'd him, and struck, but from
the castle a cry

Sounded across the court, and —
men-at-arms,

A score with pointed lances, making
at him —

He dash'd the pummel at the fore-
most face,
Beneath a low door dipt, and made
his feet

Wrings thro' a glimmering gallery,
till he mark'd

The portal of King Tellam's chapel
wide

And inward to the wall; he stev)t

behind ;
Thence in a moment heard them pass

like wolves
Howling; but while he stared about

the shrine.
In which he scarce could spy the

Christ for Saints,
Beheld before a golden altar lie
The longest lance his eyes had ever

seen,
Point-painted red ; and seizing there-
upon
Push'd thro' an open casement down,

lean'd on it.
Leapt in a semicircle, and lit on

earth;
Then hand at ear, and harker.ing

from what side
The blindfold rummage buried in

the walls
Might echo, ran the counter path,

and found
His charger, mounted on him and

away.
An arrow whizz'd to the right, one

to the left,
One overhead ; and Pellam's feeble

cry,
" Stay, stay him! he dcfileth heavenly

things
With earthly uses " — made him

quickly dive
Beneath the boughs, and race thro'

many a mile
Of dense and open, till his goodly

horse,
Arising wearily at a fallen oak,
Stumbled headlong, and cast him

face to ground.

Half-wroth he had not ended, but

all glad,
Knightlike, to find his charger yet

unlamed,
Sir Balin drew the shield from otf

his neck,

BALIN AND BALAN

265

Stared at the priceless co^iiizante,

and thoustit,
" I have shamed thee so tliat now

thou shaiiiest me,
Thee uill 1 bear no more," hi^jh on a

branch
HunK it, and turn'd as'dc into tlie

\v ooils,
And there in gloom cast himself ail

along,

Moaning, " My violences, my vio-
1 I )>

lencesl

But now the wholesome music of

the wood
Was dumb'd by one from out the

hall of Mark,
A damsel-errant, warbling, as she

rode
The woodland alleys, Vivien, w'ch

her Squire.

" The fire of Heaven has kill'd the

barren cold,
And kindled all the plain and all the

wold.
The new leaf ever pushes oft the old.
The fire of Heaven is not the flame

of Hell.

Old priest, who mumble worship

in your quire —
Old monk and nun, yc scorn the

world's desire,
Vet in vour frosty cells ye feel the

fire!
The fire of Heaven is not the flame

of Hell.

The fire of Heaven is on the dusty

ways.
The wayside blossoms open to the

blaze.
The whole wood-world is one full

peal of praise.
The fire of Heaven is not the flume

of Hell.

The fire of Heaven is Lord of all

things good.
And starve not thou this (iie within

th\ blood,
Hut follow Vivien thro' the tiery

Hood !
The fire of Heaven is not the (lame

of Hell!"

Then turning to her Squire, " This
fire of Heaven,
This old sun-«orsliip, boy, will ri~.e

again,
And beat the cross to earth, and

break the King
And all his Table."

Then they reach 'd a glade,
Where under one long lane of cloud-
less air
Before another wood, the royal

crown
Sparkled, and swaying upon a rest-
less elm
Drew the vague glance of Vivien,

and her Squire;
-Amazed were these; " I>o, there,"

she cried — " a crown —
Borne by some high lord-prince of

Arthur's hall.
And there a horse! the rider? where

is he?
See, yonder lies one dead within the

wood.
Not dead; he stirs! — but sleeping.

I will speak.
Hail, royal knight, we break on thy

sweet rest,
Not, doubtless, all unearn'd by noble

deeds.
But bounden art thou, if from

Arthur's hall.
To help the weak. Behold, I fly

from shame,
A lustful King, who sought to win

my love
Thro' evil ways; the kn-'ght, with

whom I rode.

266

IDYLLS OF THL KING

Hath suffer'tl misa.lvinturc, anJ my

squire
Hath in him small dcfcnbc; but thou,

Sir I'rinic,
Wilt suri'ly guulc nii- to the warrior

KiriK,
Arthur the blameless, pure as any

nuiiil.
To get nie shelter for my inaiilen-

hood.
I charge thee by that trown upon

thy shjelil.
And by the great (Juccn's name,

arise and hence."

And Balin rose, "Thither no

more! nor I'rince
Nor knight am 1, but one that hath

defamed
The cognizance she gave me: here

I dwell
Savage among the savage woods,

here die —
Die: let the wolves' black maws en-

sepulchei
Their brother beast, whose anger

was his lord.
O me, that such a name as Guine-
vere's,
Which our high Lancelot hatii so

lifted up.
And been thereby uplifted, should

thro' me.
My violence, and my villainy, come

to shame."

Thereat she suddenly laugh'd and

shrill, anon
Sigh'd all as suddenly. Said Balin

to her,
" Is this thy courtesv — to mock me,

ha?
Hence, for I will not with thee."

Again she sigh'd,
"Pardon, sweet lord! we maidens

often laugh
When sick at heart, when rather we

should weep.

I knew thee wron^'d. 1 brake upon

thy rest.
And now full loth am I to break

thy dream.
Hut thou art man, and canst abide a

truth,
Tho' bitter. Hither, boy — and

mark me vncII.
Dost thou remember at Caerleon

once —
A year ago — nay, then I love thee

not —
Aye, thou rememherest well — one

Slimmer dawn —
Uy the great tower -- Caerleon upon

Usk —
Nay, truly we were hidden: this

fair lord,
The flower of all their vestal knight-
hood, knelt
In amorous homage — knelt — what

else? — () aye.
Knelt, and drew down from out his

night-black hair
And mumbled that white hand

v.hose ring'd caress
Had wander'd from her own King's

golden head.
And lost itself in darkness, till she

cried —
I thought the great tower would

crash down on both —
' Rise, my sweet King, and kiss me

on the lips,
Thou art my King.' This lad,

whose lightest word
Is mere white truth in simple naked-
ness.
Saw them embrace: he reddens, can-
not speak.
So bashful, he! but all the maiden

Saints,
I'he deathless mother-maidenhood of

Heaven
Cry out upon her. Up then, ride

with me!
Talk not of shame! thou canst not,
an thou woulJ'st,

BALIN AND BALAN

267

Do thfsf more shanif than tlirsf have
done thci.isflvcs."

She lied with rase; but horror-

striikrn hr,
Rrmniiberintj tliat dark bowrr at

Caniclot,
BrratKfd in a dismal whisper, " It is

truth."

Sunnily she smiled, " And even in

this lone wood,
Sweet lord, ye do ritjht well to

whisper tiiis.
Fools prate, and perish traitors.

Woods have ton;;ufs,
As walls have ears; but thou shalt go

with me.
And we will speak at hrst cxceedin^^

low.
Meet is it the good Kini; be not de-
ceived.
Sec now, I set thee lu'tjh on vantage

ground.
From whence to watch the time, and

eagle-like
Stoop at thy will on Lancelot and

the Queen."

She cr.ised ; liis evil spirit upon

him leapt,
He ground his teeth togetiier, sprang

with a yell,
Tore from the branch, and cast on

earth, the shield,
Drove his mail'd heel athwart the

royal crown,
Stampt all into defacement, hurl'd it

from him
Among the forest weeds, and cursed

the tale,
The told-of, and the teller.

That weird yell,
Unearthlier than all shriek of bird

or beast,
Thrill'd thro' the woods; and Balan

lurking there

(ffis quest was unaccomplish'd)

heard and thought,
"The scream of that Wood-devil I

came to quell ! "
Then Hearing, " Lo! he hath slain

some brotliei knight.
And tramples on tlic goodly shield to

show
His loathing of our Order and the

Queen.
.My quest, meseems, is here. Or

devil or man
Guard thou thine head." Sir Balin

spake not word,
Hut snatch'd a sudden buckler from

the Squire,
.And vaulted on his horse, and so they

crasli'd
In onset, and Kin^ I'ellam's holy

spear.
Reputed to be red « ith sinless blood,
Redden'd at once with sinful, for the

point
Across the maiden shield of Balan

prick'd
Tlie hauberk to the flesh; and Balin's

horse
Was wearied to the death, and, when

they clash'd.
Rolling back upon Balin, crush'd the

man
Inward, and either fell, and swoon 'd

away.

Then to her Squire mutter'd the

damsel, " Fools!
This fellow hath wrought some foul-
ness with his Queen:
Else never had he borne her crown,

nor raved
And thus foam'd over at a rival

name:
But thou. Sir Chick, that scarce hast

broken shell,
Art yet half-yolk, not even come to

down —
Who never sawest Caerleon upon

Usk —

268

IDYLLS OF IHL KING

And yrt hast often pliMclnl tor my

\ii\r —
See what 1 M'c, l)c thou wlu-ri- I have

lircn,
Or rUc Sir Chiilt — dismoun' and

looif their cas«iurs
I fain would know what manner of

n"'.! tlicy l>'"."
And when the Siiuirr had loosed

them, " ( joodly I — look!
They might have cropt the myriad

tliiuiT (if May,
And butt each other here, like brain-
less bulls.
Dead for one heifer! "

Then tlie centle Squire,
" I hold them happy, so they died fur

love :
And, Vivien, tho' ye beat me like

your dog,
I, too, could die, as now 1 live, for

thee."

" Live on. Sir Boy," she cried. " I

better prize
The living doj; than the dead lion:

away !
I cannot bronk to (;azc upon the

dead."
Then leapt her palfrey o'er tiie fallen

oak.
And bounding forward, " Leave them

to the wulvts."

But when their foreheads felt the
cooling air,

Balin first woke, and seein<j: that true
face,

Familiar up from cradle-time, so
wan,

Crawl'd slowly with low moans to
where he lay,

And on his dving brother cast him-
self

Dying; and he lifted faint eyes; he
felt

One near him; all at once they
luurui the world,

Starin^; wild-ujde; then with a child-
like wad,

.And draw inn down the dim disas-
trous brov*'

That o'er him hung, he kiss'd it,
moan'd and spake:

" O Balin, Balin, I that fain had

died
To save thy Lie, ha\e broujjht tliee

to thy death.
Why had ye not the shield I knew ?

and why
Trampled ye thus on that which

bare tin Croun?

Then Balin told him brokenlj-,
and in gasps,
All that had chanced, and Balan
moan'd again.

" Brother, I dwelt a day in Pel-
lam's hall:

This Garlon mock'd me, but I
heeded not.

And one said, ' Lat in peace! a liar
is he.

And hates thee for the tribute!' this
good knight

Told me, that twice a wanton dam-
sel came,

.And sought for Garlon at the castle-
gates,

Whom Pcllam drove away with holy
heat.

I .veil believe this damsel, and the
one

Who stood beside thee even now,
the same.

' She dwells among the woods,' he
said, ■ and meets

And dallies with him In the Mouth
of Hell.'

Foul are their lives; foul are their
lips; they lied.

mi;ri,ix and vivikn

Pure as our own true- Motl-ri our
Uiicfii."

"O hrothn," ansivrr'd U.iliii,

" wor i< nir!
My niaJfifbS all thy lilc lus hrrn thy

(loom,
Thy rursc, aii.l darkcnM all thy day;

and iKi'A
'I hr ni'Kht has comp. I scarce can

<rp tlirc now.
(iood-nit:ht! fur ue shall never hid

a^.iin
(jood-niorrovv— Dark my d(K)rn v\as

here, and dark
It uiil be there. I see thee now nn

more.
I would not mine a^ain should

darken thine,
Good-night, true brother."

Ralan answer'd low
"Good-m'cht, true brother here!

Kond-morrow there!
We two were born together, and we

d ie
Together by one doom : " and while

he spoke
Closed his death-drowsint; e\rs, and

slept the sleep
With iklin, cither lock'd in either's

arms.

MERLIN AND VIVIFIN

A STORM vvas cominjr, but the winds
were still.

And in the wild woods of Broce-
liande,

Before an oak, so hollow, huize and
old

It look'il a tower of ivied mason-
work,

At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.

For he that always bare in bitter
grudge

269

The sliijhts of Arthur and his Table

Maik
The Cornish Kin^;. had heard a

\ianilerin^ vour,
A minstrel of Cierleon b> strong

storm
niown into shelter at Tintii^il, say
That out of naked knightlike purity
Sir Lancelot worshipt no unmarried

girl
Hut the great Queen herself, foii-ht

in her name,
Sware by her— vovns like Jieir>, that

hit;h in heaven
Love most, but neither ni.irrv, nor

are given
In marriage, angels of our Lord's re-
port.

He ceased, and then — for Vivien

sweetly said
(She sat beside the banquet neare-.t

Mark),
" And is the fair example follow'd

Sir,
In Arthur's household?" — answer'd

inn(jcently :

" Aye, by some fe\v — a\ e, truly —
youths that hold
It more besr.-ms the perfect vir^'in
knight

To worship woman as true wife be-
yond

All hopes of gaining, than as maiden
girl.

They place their pride in I,ancelot
and the Queen.

So passionate for an utter purity

Heyond the limit of their bond, are
these,

For Arthur bound them not to single-
ness.

Brave hearts and clean! and yet

God guide them — young.''

Then .\Iark was half in heart to
hurl his cup

zyo

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Straight at the speaker, but foreborc:
he rose

To leave the hall, and, Vivien follow-
ing him,

Turn'd to her: "Here arc snak.es
within the grass;

And you methinks, C) Vivien, save ye
fear

The monkish manhoo.l, ^nd the mask
of pure

\N'orn by this court, can stir them till
they sting."

And Vivien answer'd, smiling

scornfully,
"Why fear? because that foster'd at

thy court
I savor of thy — virtues? fear them?

110.

As I-/Ove, if Love be perfect, casts out

fear,
So Hate, if Hate be perfect, casts out

fear.
My father died in battle against the

Kini;,
My mother on his corpse in open

field ;
She bore me there, for born from

death was I
Among tlie di'ad and sown upon the

u ind —
And then on thee! and shown the

truth betinu'S,
That old true tilth, and jottom of

the v\cll.
Where Truth is hidden. Graciovis

lessons thine
And maxims of the mud! 'This

Arthur pure!
Grent Nature thro' the flesh herself

hath made
Gives him the lie! There is no be-
ing pure,
Mv cherub; saith not Holy Writ the

same ? '- —
If I were Arthur, I would have thy

blood.

Thy blt.sint,, stainless King! i

bring thee back.
When I have ferreted out their bur-
rowings.
The hearts of all this Order in mine

hand —
Aye — so that fate and craft and folly

close,
Perchance, one curl of Arthur's

golden beard.
To me this narrow grizzled fork of

thine
Is clcaner-fashion'd — Well, I loved

thee first,
That warps the wit."

Loud laugh'd the graceless Mark.
But Vivien, into Camclot stealing,

lodged
Lo\ • in the city, and on a festal day
When Guinevere was crossing the

great hall
Cast herself down, knelt to the Queen,

and wail'd.

" WTiy kneel ye there? What evil

have ye wrought?
Rise!" and the damsel bidden rise

arose
And stood with folded hands and

downward eyes
Of glancing corner, and all meekly

said,
" None wrought, hut sufTer'd much,

an orphan maid !
My father died in battle for thy

King,
My moth.cr on his corpse — in open

field,
The sad sea-sounding wastes of Lyon-

ncsse —
Poor wretch — no friend ! — and now

by Mark the King
For that small charm of feature

mine, pursued —
If any such be mine — I flv to thee.
Save, save me thou — ^Voman of

women — thine

MERLIN AND VIVIEN

271

The wreath of beauty, thine the " Is that the Lancelot ? gor .—

crown of power, aye, but gaunt:

Be thine the balm of pity, O Heaven's Courteous — amends for gauntness —

own white takes her hand —

Larth-angel, stainless bride of stain- That glance of theirs, but for the

less King— street, had been

Help, or he follows! take me to thy- A dinging kiss — how hand lingers

.self! in hand!

O yield me shelter for mine innocency Let go at last! — they ride away

Among thy maidens!" to hawk

For waterfowl. Royallcr game is
mine.

Here her slow sweet eyes For such a supersensual sensual bond

!• ear-tremulous, but humbly hopeful. As that gray cricket ciiirpt of at our

>"ose hearth —

Fixt on her hearer's, while the Queen Touch flax with flame — a glance

who stood will serve — the liars!

All glittering like May sunshine on Ah, little rat that borest in the dyke

May leaves Thy hole by night to let th: boundless

In green and gold, and plumed with de?p

green replied,

" Peace, child! of overpraise and over-
blame

We choose the last. Our noble
Arthur, him

Ye scarce can overpraise, will hear
and know.

Nay — we believe all evil of thy
Mark —

Well, we shall test thee farther; but
this hour

We ride a-hawking with Sir Lance-
lot.

He hath given us a fair falcon which
he train'd ;

We go to prove it. Bide vc here the
while."

She past; and Vivien murmur'd

after "Go!
I bide the while." Then thro' the

portal-arch
Peering askance, and muttering bro-

kenwise,
As one that labors with an evil dream,

Down upon far-of? cities while they

dance —
Or dream — of thee they dream'd

not — nor of me
These — aye, but each of either: ride,

and dream
The mortal dream that never yet was

mine —
Ride, ride and dream until ye wake —

to me!
Then, narrow court and lubber King,

farewell !
For Lancelot will be gracicus to the

rat.
And our wise Queen, if knowing that

I know,
Will hate, loathe, fear — but honor

me the more."

Yet while they rode together down

the plain.
Their talk was all of training, terms

of art,
Diet and seeling, jesses, leash and

lure.

Brheld the Queen and Lancelot get to " She is t-o no' le," he said, " to check
fioi^se. at p.es.

272

IDYLLS OF THE KLNG

Nor will she rake: there is no base-
ness in her. "
Here when the Quern demanded as

by chance,
" Know ye the stranjicr woman ? "

" Let her be,"
Said Lancelot and unhooded casting

off
The goodly falcon free; she tower'd ;

her bells,
Tone under tone, shriU'd, and they

lifted up
Their eager faces, wondering at the

strength.
Boldness and royal knighthood of

the bird
Who pounced her quarry and slew it.

Many a time
As once — of old — among the

flowers — they rude.

But Vivien half-forgotten of the
Queen
Among her damsels broidering sat,

heard, watch'd
And whisper'd : thro' the peaceful

court she crept
And whisper'd : then as Arthur in the

highest
Leaven'd the world, so N'ivien in the

lowest.
Arriving at a time of golden rest.
And sowing one ill hint from ear to

ear.
While all the heathen lay at Arthur's

feet,
And no quest came, but all was joust

and play,
Leaven'd his hall. They heard and

let her be.

Thereafter as an enemv that has
left

Death in the living waters, and with-
drawn,

The wily Vivien stole from Arthur's
court.

She hated all the knights, and
heard in though.
Their lavish comment w!ien her name

was named.
For once, when Arthur walking all

alone,
Vext at a rumor issued from her-
self
Of some corruption crept among his

knights.
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, anil at la.st
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 an after-
noon
That Vivien should attempt the

blameless 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;
The people call'd him Wizard ; whom

at first
She play'd about with slight and

sprightly talk,
And vivid smiles, and lintly-venom'd

points
Of slander, glancing here and grazing

there ;
And yielding to his kindlier moods,
tlie Seer

MERLIN AND VIVIEN 273

Would watch her at her petulance, Ami Vivien foUow'd, but he mark'd

_ and play, ),er not.

Lvn when they seem'd unloveable, She took the helm and he the sail •

and laugh ,he boat

As those that watch a kitten; thus he Drave with a sudden wind across the

grew depps^

lolerant of what he half disdain'd. And touching Breton sands, they dis-

and she, embark'd.

Perceiving that she was but half dis- And then she follow'd Alerhn all the

dain d, y^.gy^

Began to break her sports with graver Ev'n to'the wild woods of Broce-

'"^' liande.

Turn red or pale, would often when For Merlin once had told her of a

they met rharm^

Sigh fully, or all-silent pa/e upon liim The which' if any wrought on anyone

With such a fixt devotion, that the With woven paces and with wavinu

old man, arms,

i ho doubtful, felt the flattery, and The man so wrought on ever seem'd

at times to lie

Would flatter his own wish in age Closed in the four walls of a hollow

for love, tower,

And half believe her true: for thus at From which was no escape for ever-

times more;

He vvaver'd; but that other clung to And none could f^nd that man for

"^tn, evermore,

Fixt In her will, and so the seasons Nor could he see but him who

^^"'* wrought the charm

Coming and going, and he lay as dead

Then fell on Merlin a great melan- '^"'^ '°*^ '" ''^'^ ^"'^ ^^^ and name and

choly; fame.

He walk'd with dreams and dark- '^"'^ Vivien ever sought to work the
ness, and he found

A doom that ever poised itself to

fall.
An ever-moaning battle in the mist,
World-war of dying flesh against the

life.
Death in all life and lying in all love,
1 he meanest having power upon the

highest,
And the high purpose broken by the ,. .,K'^*''' ^'^ '

worm. -"5 '\'" deepest reverence and in love.

A twist of gold was round her hair; a

bo eavmg Arthur's court he gain'd Of samite without price, that more
the beach; e.xprest

There found a little boat, and stept Thanhid her, clung about her lissome
'"fo'f; limbs,

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,

274

IDYLLS OF THE KING

In color like the satin-shining palm
On sallows in the windy j^lcaiiis of

March:
And while she iclss'd them, cryinR,

" Trample me,
Dear feet, that I have follow'd thro'

the world,
And 1 will pay you worship; tread me

down
And I will kiss you for it;" he was

mute:
So dark a forethought roll'd ahout

his hrain,
As on a dull day in an Ocean cave
The blind v ave 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?" and

again,
"O Merlin, do ye love me?" and

once more,
" Great M;ister, do ye love me? " he

was mute.
And lissome Vivien, holding by his

heel,
Writhed toward him, slidcd up his

knee and sat.
Behind his ankle tv\ined her hollow

feet
Together, curved an arm about his

neck.
Clung like a snake; and U-ttiiig 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 ■ outh

gone out
Had left in ashes: then he spijke 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 Camelot:
Hut neither eyes nor tongue — O

stupid child !
^'et you are wi^ic who say it; let me

think
Silence is wisdom : I am silent then.
And ask no kiss; " then adding a'l 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
X'eil'd in gray vapor; till he sadly

smiled :
" To what request for what strange

boon," he said,
" Are these your pretty tricks and

fooleries,

Vivien, the preamble? yet my

thanks.
For these have broken up my melan-
choly."

And Vivien answer'd smiling sau-
cily,
" 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,

MERLIN AND VIVIEN

275

And made a pretty cup of both my And when I look'd, and saw you

hands following still,

And offer'd you it kneeling: then )ou My mind involved yourself the near-

drank est thing

And knew no more, nor gave nic one In that mind-mist, for shall I tell you

poor word ; truth ?

O no more thuiks ihan might a goat '^'ou scem'd that wave about to break

have given upon me

With no more sign <,i reverence than /nd sweep me from my hold upon

a beard. the world,

And when we halted at that other My use and name and fame. Your

^^c", pardon, child.

And I was faint to swooning, and Your pretty sport--, have brighten'd ail

>ou lai- again.

Foot-gilt with all the blossom-dust of And ask your boon, for boon I owe

those you thrice,

Deep meadows we had traversed, did Once for wrong done you by confu-

you know sion, next

That Vivien bathed jour feet before For thanks it seems till now neglected,

her own ? last

And jet no thanks: and all thro' th's For these your dainty gambols:

wild wood w herefore ask ;

And all this morning when I fondled And take this boon so strange and

you: not so strange."
Boon, aye, there was a boon, ono nut

so strange —
How had I wrong'd you? surelj ye

are wise.
But such a silence is more wise than

kind."

And Merlin lock'd his hand in hers

and said :
" did ye never lie upon the shore.

And watch the curl'd white of the I ever fear'd ye were not wholly

coming wave mine;

Glass'd in the slippery sand before it And see, yourself have own'd ye did

breaks? me wrong.

Ev'n such a wave, but not so pleasur- The people call you prophet: let it

a^le, be:

Dark m the glass of some presageful But not of those that can expound

mood, themselves.

Had I for three days seen, readv to Take Vivien for expounder; she will

fall. call

And then I rose and fled from That three-days-long presageful

Arthur's court gloom of yours

To break the mood. You follow'd No presage, uut the same mistrustful

me unask'd ; mood

And Vivien answer'd smiling

mournfully :
" O not so strange as my long asking

it,
Not yet so strange as you yourself are

strange.
Nor half so strange as that dark mood

of yours.

276

IDYLLS OF THE KING

That makes you seem less noble ihan

yourstlf,
Whenever I have ask'd this very
boon,

Now ask'd again: for sec y(.u not,
dear love,

That such a mood as tiiat, which
lately glooni'd

Your fancy when ye saw me follow-
ing you,

Must make me fear still more you
are not mine.

Must make me yearn still more to
prove you mine,

And make me wish stiil more to learn
this charm

Of woven paces and of vvaviniz hands,

As proof of trust. O Merlin, teach
it me.

The charm so taught will charm us
both to rest.

For, grant me some slight power upon
your fate,

I, feeling that you felt me worthy
trust,

Should rest and let you rtst, know-
ing you mine.

And therefore be as great as ye are
named,

Not muffled round with selfish reti-
cence.

How hard you look and how dcnj-
ingly!

O, if you think this wickedness in
me,

That I should prove it on you un-
awares.

That makes me passing wrathful;
then our bond

Had best be loosed forever: but
think or not,

By Heaven that hears I tell you the
clean truth.

As clean as blood of babes, as white
as milk:

O Merlin, may this earth, if eve- I,

H these unwitty wandering wits of
mine.

V.v'n in the jumbled rubbish of a

dream.
Have tript on such conjectural

treachery —
May this hard earth cleave to the

Nadir hell
Down, down, and close again, and nip

me Hat,
H I be such a traitress, 'l ield my

boon.
Till which I scarce can yiel 1 you all I

am ;
And grant my re-reiterated wish,
The great proof of \ our love : be-
cause I think.
However wise, ye hardlv know me

yet."

And Merlin loosed his hand from

hers and said,
'' I never was less wise, however wise,
Too curious Vivien, tho' you talk of

trust.
Than when I told you first of such a

charm,
■^'ea, if yc talk of trust I tell you this,
Too much I trusted when I told you

that.
And stirr'd this -'ice in you which

ruin'd man
Thro' woman the first hour; for

howsoe'er
In children a great curiousness be

v^•ell,
Who hav e to learn themselves and all

the world,
In vou, that are no child, for still I

' find
"^'our face is practised when I spell

the lines,
I call it, — well, I will not call it

vice :
But since you name yourself the sum-
mer fly,
I well could wish a cobweb for the

gnat,
That settles, beaten back, and beaten

back

MERLIN AND VIVIEN

'//

Settles, till one could yield for weari- That rotting inward slowly niolders

all.
'It is not worth the keeping: let it

But shall it? answer, darling, an-
swer, no.
And trust me not at all or all in all.'

O Master, do ye love mv tender
rhyme?"

And Merlin look'd and half be-
lieved her true,
So tender was her voice, so fair her

" Nay, Master, be not wrathful with So sw'eedy gleam'd her eyes behind

your maid; j,^.^ ^^.^^^

Caress her: let her feel herself for- Like sunlight on the plain behind a
A,n. ^7"? L shower:

WTio feels nc he,rt to ask another And yet he answer'd half indig-

1 tnmk ye hardly know the tender

ness:
But since I will not \ield to give you

power
Upon my life £.nd use and name and

fmic.
Why will ye never ask some other

boon ?
Yea, by God's rood, 1 trusted you too

...uch."

And Vivien, like the tenderest-

hearted maid
That ever bided tryst at village stile,
Made answer, either eyelid wet with

tears:

rhyme
Of ' trust me not at all or all in

all.'
I heard the great Sir Lancelot sing it

once,
And it shall answer for me. Listen

to it.

" Far other was the sonc that once

I heard
By this huge oak, sung nearly where

we sit:
For here we met, some ten or twelve

of us.
To chase a creature that was current

* In Love, if Love be Love, if Love t„ ,u„,„ -u i , ■ . ,

L 'In these wild woods, the hart with

be ours.

Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal
powers

golden horns.
It was the time when first the ques-
tion rose

Unfaith in aught is want of faith in AK«„f fk„ "^ r i -r- 1 1

][ About the founding of a Tabl

' It is the little rift within the lute.

Round,
That was to be, for love of God and

, men

That by and by will make the music And noble deeds, the flower of all the

mute, vvorld.

And ever widening slowly silence all. And each incited each to noble
, ~. . deeds.

'The little rift within the lover's And while we waited, one, the
'"''" \oungcst of us,

Or little pitted speck in garncr'd We could not keep him silent, out he
"u't. flash'd,

278

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And into such a son;;, such fire for

fame,
Such trumpet-blowings in it, coming

down
To such a stern and irun-clas'iinK

close,
Tliat when he stopt we lung'd to

hurl together,
And should have done it ; but the

beauteous beast
Scared by the noise upstarted at our

feet,
And like a silver shadow slipt away
Thro' the dim land ; and all day

long we rode
Thro' the dim land against a rushing

\\ ind,
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 war-
riors did —
Where children cast their pins and

nails, and cry,
Laugh, little well!" but tech it

with a suord,
It buzzes fiercely round the point,

and there
We lost him: such a noble song was

that.
Hut, 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

mournfully:
" O mine have cbb'd away for ever-

m.ore,
And all thro' following you to this

wild wood,

Because I saw you sad, to comfort

you.
Lo, now, what hearts have men! they

never mount
As high as woman in her sclHess

mood.
And touching fame, howc'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, soti.e as

relics kept.
But nevermore the same two sister

pearls
Ilan 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 dittcr-

ently :
Yet is there one true line, the pearl

of pearls:
Man dreams of Fame while woman

wakes to love.'
Yea! Love, tho' Love were of the

grossest, carves
A portion from the solid present,

eats
And uses, careless of the rest; but

Fame,
i le Fame that follows death is

nothing to us;

MERLIN AND VIVIEN

279

And what is Fame in life but half-

disfanif,
And tountcrchanged with darkness?

ye yourself
Know well that Envy calls you

Devil's son,
And since ye 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,
I once was looking for a maf;ic

weed,
And found a fair young squire who

sat alone,
Had carved himself a ktiiglitly 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

giaff,
Wit' this for motto, ' Rather use

ti in fame.'
^ ou t ould have seen him blush;

bui afterwards
He made a stalwart knight. ()

Vivier.,
For you, methinks you think you love

me well ;
For me, I love you somewhat ; rest :

and Love
Should have some rest and pleasure

in himself,
Not ever be too curious for a boon,
Too prurient for a proof against the

grain
Of him ye say ye love: but Fame

with men,

Being but ampler means to serve

mankind.
Should have small rest or pleasure in

herself.
Hut work as vassal to the i.>.ger

love,
That dwarfs the petty love of one to

one.
Use gave me Fame at first, and Fame

again
Increasing gave me use. I^i, there

my boon !
What other? for men sought to

prove me vile,
Because I fain had given them

greater wits:
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 i)ack, and wounded

her own heart.
Sweet were the days when I was all

unknown.
But when my name was lifted up,

ttie storm
Brake on the mountain and I cared

not for it.
Right well know I that Fame is

half-disfame,
^ et needs must w ork my work.

That other fame.
To one at least, who hath not chil-
dren, 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

28o

IDVI.I.S OF nil'; KING

To niakf famr nothini;. Wlii-ri-turr,

it 1 fi-ar,
Givinp you pouiT upmi me thro

this cliariii,
That you tuinlit play mo ialscly, liav-

iiiji powrr,
Howfvrr well ye think yp htvp nif

now
(As sons of kinjjs hiving in pupilaco
Have turn'ii to tyrant> when tlu)

time t.i power)
I rathrr dread tlie Ujss oi' use than

fame ;
If you — and not so mui-'h from

u ic'kedness,
As some wild turn of ati^er, or a

mofxl
Of overstrain'd affection, it ma\ be,
To keep me all to yoar oun self, —

or else
A sudden spurt of woman's jeal-
ousy, —
Should try this charm on whom ye

say ye i(<ve."

And Vivien inswcr'd smiling as in

wiath,
"Have 1 not sworn? I am not

trusted. 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 this 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?
O to what end, except a jealous one,

.And one to make me jealous if I
l,.\e.

\^'a^ thi^ fair charm invented by
>.iiirM'lt:'

I well believe that all about this
\\ iirld

Ye cage a buxom captive here and
there.

Closed in the four walU ot a hollow
tiiwer

}■ rom u hich is no escape for ever-
more. "

Then the great Master merrily

ansMiTii her:
" Full many a love in loving youth

\vas mine;
I needed then no charm to keep them

mine
But youth and love; and that full

heart of yours
WTiereof ye praitle, may now assure

you mine;
So live uncharm'd. For those who

wrought it first.
The wrist is parted from the hand

that waved.
The feet unmortised from their

ankle-b' nes
Who paced it, ages back : but will ye

hear
The legend as in guerdon for your

rhyme ?

" There lived a king in the most

K.astern East,
Less old than I, yet older, for my

blood
Hath earnest in it of far springs to

be.
A tawny pirate anchor'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 .in the sea.

MLRLIN AND VIVIEN

zHi

And pushing his black tratt among A Ica^'ue of niounrairi full of ;;olilrn
tliciii all, minrs,

lie litihtly scatter'.! theirs ;uid A proviiuc witli a hundrcl iiulc;, of
brought hrr otf, coast,

With loss ot half his proplc arrow- A palate and a prirucss, all tor
slain; him:

A maid so smooth, so white, so Uut on all those who tried and fail'd,
wonderful, the King

They said a li^ht t :mc from her I'ronoumed a dismal sentence, mean-
when she moved: ing by it

And since the pirate would not yield To keep the list low and pretenders
her up, back,

The King impaled him fur his Or like a king, not to be trifled
piracy; with —

Then made her Uueen: but those 'llieir heads should mr)lder on the
isle-nurtured e\es city gates.

Waged such unwilling tho' success- And many tried and fail'd, because
ful uar the charm

On all the youth, they sicken'd; Of nature in her overbore their o« n :
councils thinn'd,

And armies waned, for magnet-like
slic drew

The rustiest iron of old lighters'
hearts ;

And beasts themselves would wor-
ship ; camels knelt

Unbidden, and the brutes of moun-
tain back

That carry kings in castles, Dow'd
black l;nees

And many a wizard brow bleach'd

on the walU:
And many weeks a troop of carrion

croH s
Hung like a cloud above the gateway

towers."

And Vivien breaking in upon him,
said :
" I sit and gather honey ; yet, me-

thinks,

Of homage, ringing with their Thy tongue has tript a little: ask

serpent hands,

thvself.

To make her smile, her golden ankle- The lady never made unuilling war

What 'Aonder, being jealous, that he

sent
His horns of proclamation out thro'

all
The hundred under-kingdoms that

he svvay'd
To find a wizard who might teach

the King
Some charm, which being wrought

upon the Queen

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

damsel 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.

Might keep her all his own: to such Or pinch a murderous dust into her

a one dr'nk,

He promised more than ever king has Or make her paler with a poison'd

given, rose?

282

lUVLI.S OF Ilih KlNCi

Well, those utTi' not (uir ilav>: but

(lid they timi
A wizaril ' 1 ill iiu, wun lie liltc to

thoe? "

She ceaseii, and made hor lithe

arm round his iin.lt
'l"ightcn, and then drt-vs hack, and let

her ryes
Speak for her. glowing on him, like

a hridc's
On her new lord, her own, the first

of men.

He ansvver'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 ;
Read hut one book, ami ever readin.^

grew
So grated down and tiled away with

thought.
So lean his eyes were monstrous;

while the skin
Clung hut to crate and basket. libs

anil spine.
And ^^ince he kept his mind on one

Sole aim.
Nor ever to\ich'd fierce wine, nor

tasted flesh,
Nor oun'd a sensual wish, to him the

wall
That sunders ghosts and shadow-
casting 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 slant-
ing storm ;
( )r in the noon of mist and driving

r.iin.
When the lake whiten'd and the pine-

v\ ooil roar'd,
.'\nd tlic cairn'd mountain v\as a

shadow, sunn'il
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 (Jueen
In such-wise, that no man could sec

her more,
.Nor saw she save the King, who

w rcught the charm.
Coming and going, and she lay as

dead.
And lost all use of life: but when the

King
.M.ide proffer of the league of

golden mines.
The province with a hundred miles

of coast,
Tlie palace and the princess, that old

man
\V'ent b.ick to his old wild, and lived

on grass.
And vanished, and his book came

down to me."

And Vivien answer'd smiling

saucily :
"Ye have the book: the charm is

written in it:
Ciood: 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

thirr\-lold,
And whelm all thi beneath as vast

a mound
As after a furious battle turfs the

slain

iaMa*i

MKIU.IN AND VIVIIvN

2«.?

Dili, iiui any

On somr uilil ilmMi .dxjvc ilir u imly

Ji-cp,
1 yet >li(iiii(l strike upni, ,i siiiliicn

To din, piiL, (ipcii, linil and read llir

tliarni :
llii-n, it I triVit it, will) should blame

nic tluii .'

And sinilitu; as a master iinilis at
one

That is not of liis si.lii
.■L'liool

But that where blind and nakcil
Innnrancr

Delivers brawliii'^ judj;ments, un-
ashamed,

On all thin^;s all da> lonj;, he an-
s\\er'd her :

" Thou read the book, ni> pretty

V'iv icn !
O aye, it is but twenty pa^jes Un\g,
But every page havinj; an ample

niarne,
And every marge enelosiiij; in the

midst
A square of text that looks a little

blot,
The text no larj;er than the limbs of

fleas ;
And every square of text an awful

charm.
Writ in a lanyuafje that has Um^

gone by.
So long, that mountains liave arisen

since
With cities on their flanks — thou

read the book !
And every margin scribbled, crost,

and cramm'd
With comment, densest condensa-
tion, hard
To mind and eye ; but the long sleep-
less nights
Of my long life have made it easy to

me.

.And none lan rr.id the text, iiiit

r\en 1 ;
And none t.in read the (oinmrnt but

iii\sell ;
And in the eommrnt did 1 (ind the

iharm.
( ), the results are simple; a mere

child
Might use It to the harm of any-
one,
Aiui never could undo it; a^k no

more ;
I-iir tho' you should not prove it

upon me,
Mut keep that oath ye sv*'are, ye

might, perchance.
Assay it on someone of the Table

Round,
.And all been -e ye dream they babble

of you."

And X'ivien, frowning in true

anger, said:
" What dare the full-fed liars say of

me ?
J liry ride abroad redressing human

v\ rongs!
They sit w.th !:nife in meat and wine

in horn!
Tlify bound to holy vows of chastity!
Were I not woman, I could tell a

tale,
liut ycu are man, you well can

understand
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

iier words:
" \'ou 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!"

284

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And X'ivicn answer'd frowninj;
« rathtully :

" aye, what say yc 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 pone, and on return-
in;; found

Not two but three? there lay 'he
recklinil, 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,
(^ne child they had: it lived with

her: she died :
His ki. ^!: an traveling on his own

alia it
Was chaiged by Valence to bring

home the child.
He brought, not found it therefore:

take the truth."

" O aye," said Vivien, " overtrue -^^
tale.

What say ye then to s^veet Sir Sagra-
more.

That ardent man? 'To pluck the
flower in season,'

So says the song, ' I trow it is no
treason.'

Master, siiall we call him over-
quick

To crop his own sweet rose before
the liour ? "

And Merlin answer'd, " Over-
quick art thou
To catch a loatiily plume fall'n from

the \\ ing
Of that foul bird of rapine whose

whole prey
Is man's good name: he never

w rong'd his bride.
I know the tale. An angry gust of

wind
Puff'd out his torch among the

m\riaii-i'oom'd
And man\ -corridor'd complexities
Of Arthur's palace: then lie found

a door.
And darkling felt the sculptured

ornament
That wreathcn round it made it

seem his own ;
And wearied out made for the couch

and slept,
A stainless man beside a stainless

maid ;
And either slept, nor knew of other

there;
Til! the high dawn piercing the royal

rose
In Arthur's casement glimmer'd

chastely down,
Blushing upon them bhishing, and

at once
Me rose without a word and parted

from her:
But when the thing was blazed about

the court,
Th? brute world howling forced

them into bonds.
And as it chanced they are happy,

being pure."

" O aye," said Vivien, " that were

likely, too.
What say ye then to fair Sir Perci-

vale
And of the horrid foulness that he

wrought,
The saintly youth, the spotless lamb

of Christ,

■HiMilf

MERLIN AND VIVIEN

285

Or some black wether of ft. 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 ansuer'd careless of

her charge,
"A sober man is Percivale and pure;
But once in life wa^ fiuster'd with

new wine.
Then paced for coolness in the

chapel-yartl ;
Where one of Satan's shepherdesses

caught
And meant to stamp him with her

master's mark ;
And that he sinned is not believable;
For, loun. upon his face! — but if he

sinn'd.
The sin that practise burns into the

blood,
And not the one dark hour which

brings remorse,
Will brand us, after, of whose fold

we be:
Or else were he, the holy king,

\\ hose hymns
Are cliantcd in the minster, worse

than all.
But is your spleen froth 'd out, or

have ye more? "

And Vivien answcr'd frov\ning

yet in vvath:
" O aye; what say ye to Sir Lancelot,

friend
Ttaitor or true? that commerce with

the Queen,
I ask you, is it clamor'd by th-: child,
Or whisper'd in the corner.' do \e

know it? "

To wliich he answer'd sadly,
" ^'ea, I know it.

Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at

tirst.
To fetch her, and s!ie watch d him

from her walls.
A rumor runs, she took him for the

King,
So fixt her fancy on him: let them

be.
But have ye no one word of loyal

prai>e
For Arthur, blameless King and

stainless man ? "

She answer'd with a low and

chuckling laugh :
" Man! is 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

womanhood )
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,
loathing, said :

"O true and tender! O my liege
and King!

O selHess man and stainless gentle-
man.

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

286

IDYLLS OF THE KING

To things with every sense as false

and loul
As the poach'd iiltli that Hoods the

middle street,
Is thy white hlamelessness accounted

blame 1 "

But Vivien, deeming Merlin over-
borne

By instance, recommenced, and let
her tonj^ue

Rage like a tire among the noblest
names,

Polluting, and imputing her \\h(jle
self,

Defaming and defacing, till she left

Not even Lancelot brave, nor Gala-
had clean.

Her words had issue other than

she w ill'd.
He dragg'd his eyebrow bushes

d(jv\n, and made
A snowy penthouse for his hollow

eyes.
And mutter'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. \Vhat did the wan-
ton say ?
' Not mount as high ; ' we scarce can

sink IS 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 man>- generous, and

some chaste.
She cloaks the scar of some repulse

with lies;
1 well believe sJie tempted them and

fail'd,

Being so bitter: for fine plots may

fail,
Tho' harlots paint their talk as well

as face
With colors of the heart that arc not

theirs.
I will not let her know: nine tithes

of times
Face-flatterer and backbiter are the

same.
And they, sweet soul, that most im-
pute a crime
Are pronest to it, and impute them-

selvi ,
Wantif 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 hnd
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 w ith spir-
itual tire,
And touching other \\ orlds. I am

weary of her."

He spoke in words part heard, in

whispers part,
Half-sul?ocated in the hoar\- fell
And many-winter'd fleece of throat

and chin.
But Vivien, gathering somewhat of

his mood.
And hearing " harlot " niutter'd

twice or thrice,

MERLIN AND VIVIEN

287

Leapt from her session on his lap, Together with a wailing shriek, and

an(i sto ' said:

Stiff as a viper frozen; loathsome " Stabb'd througli the heart's atfec-

5'H'it, tions to the heart!

How from the rosy lips of life and Seethed like the kid in its own moth-

'*»f. er's milk!

Flash'd the bare-grinning skeleton of KiU'd with a word worse than a life

.death! of blows!

White was I.er cheek; sharp breaths I thought that he was gentle, being

of anger putf'd great:

Her fairy nostril out; her hand half- O God, that I had loved a sn.illc.

clenchM nian !

Went faltering sideways downward I should have found in him a greater

to her belt, heart.

And feeling; had she found a dag- O, I, that flattering my true passion.

ger there saw

(For in a wink the false love turns The knights, the court, the King,

to tiafc) dark, in your light.

She would have stabb'd him; but she Who loved to make men darker than

found it not: they are.

His eye was calm, and suddenly she Because of that high pleasure which

took I iiad

To bitter weeping like a beaten To seat you sole upon my pedestal

'^"'''^> < )f worship — I am answer'd, and

A long, long weeping, not consol- henceforth

3ble. The course of life that seem'd so

1 hen her false voice made way, flou cry to me

broken with sobs: With you for guide and master, only

you.

" O crueller than was ever told in Becomes the sea-clif? pathway broken

tale, _ short.

Or sung in song! O vainly And ending in a ruin — nothing left,

lavish'd love! But into some low cave to crawl, and

O cruel, th"'e was nothing wild or there,

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 wish to prove him

wholly hers."

If the wolf spare me, weep my life

away,
Kill'd with inutterable unkindli-

ness."

She paused, she turn'd away, she
hung her head.
The snake of gold slid from her

hair, the braid
Slipt and 'incoil'd itself, she wept
afresh.

She mused a little, and then clapt And the dark wood grew darker
her hands toward the storm

j88

IDYLLS OF THE KING

In silence, uhilc 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 hav-
ing no reply.
Gazed at the heaving shoulder, and

the face
Ha/ul-hidden, as for utmost grief or

shame ;
Then thrice essay'd, by tenderest-

touching terms,
To sleek her ruffled pea' .nind,

in vain.
At last she let herself be conqLjr'd

by him,
And as the cageling newly flown re-
turns.
The seeming-injured simple-hearted

thing
Came to her old perch back, and set-
tled 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

rost,
Her arms upon her breast across,

and stood,
A virtuous gentlewoman deeply

wrong'd.
Upright and flush'd before him:

then she said :

" There must be now no passages

(if love

Betu ixt us twain luncei()r\\ard ever-
more ;
Since, if I be what 1 am grossly

call'd.
What should be granteii uluch your

ou n gross heart
Would reckon worth tlic taking?

I \\ ill go.
In truth, bu' one r'ling now — better

have died
Thrice than have ask'd it once —

could make me stay —
That proof of trust — so often ask'd

in vain I
How justly, after that vile term of

\ours,
I find with grief! I might believe

you then,
Who knows? once more. Lo! what

was once to me
Mere matter of the fancy, now hath

grown
The vast necessity of heart and life.
Farewell; think gently of me, for I

fear
My fate or folly, passing gayer youth
For one so old, must be to love thee

still.
But ere I leave thee let me swear

once more
That if I schemed against thy 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 leased, when out

of heaven a oolt
(For now the storm was close above

them) struck.
Furrowing a gia.it oak, and javelin-

ing
AVith darted spikes and splinters of

the uooil
T"'ie dark earth round. He raised

his eves and saw

riHl

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

289

The trre that shone wliite-listed

thri/' the gloom.
li'A Vivien, fearing heaven had

heard her oath,
And dazzled by the livid-flickering

fork,
And deafen'd with the stammering

cracks and claps
That foliovv'd, flying back and cry-
ing out,
" O Merlin, tho' you do not love me,

save.
Yet save me!" clun;: to him and

h'jgg'd him close;
And caU'.i him dear protector in her

fright.
Nor yet forgot her practise 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 bla.ned herself for telling hear-
say talcs:
She shook from fear, and for her

fault she wept
Of petulancy; she call'd him lord

and liege,
Her seer, her bard, her silver star of

eve,
Her God, her Merlin, the one pas-
sionate love
Of her whole life; anil ever over-
head
Bcllow'd the tempest, and the lotten

branch
Snapt in the rushing of the river-
rain
Above them ; and in change of glare

and gloom
Her eyes and neck glittering went

and came ;
Till now the storm, its burst of pas-
sion spent.
Moaning and calling out of other
lands,

Had left the ravaged woodland yet
once more

'lo peace; and what should not have
been had been.

For Merlin, overtalk'd and over-
worn.

Had yielded, told her all the charm,
and slept.

Ftien, 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.

Then crying. " I have made his

glory mine,"
And shrieking out, "O fool!" the

harlot leapt
Adown the forest, and the thicket

closed
Behind her, and the forest echo'd

" fool."

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,

Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,

High in her chamber up a tower to
the east

Guarded the sacred shield of Lance-
lot;

Which first she placed wliere morn-
ing's earliest ray

Might strike it, and awake her with
the gleam ;

Then fearing rust or sollure fashion'd
for it

A case of silk, and braided there-
upon

All the devices hla/nn'd on the shield

In their own tinct, and added, of her
wir,

A border fu ..easy of branch and
flower.

290

IDYLLS OF THE KL\G

And yellow-throateil nestling in the

nest,
Nor rested thus content, hut day by

day.
Leavinj; 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 (zuess'd a hidden meaning in his

arms,
Now made a pretty history to her-
self
Of every dint a sword had beaten in

it.
And every scratch a lance had made

upon it.
Conjecturing whc-n and where; this

cut is fresh ;
That ten years back; this dealt him

at Caerlyle ;
That at Caerleon ; this at C: ■'lelot:
And ah, God's mercy, what a stroke

was there!
And here a thrust that might have

kill'd, but God
Broke the strong lance, and roH'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 ho rode to
tilt

For the great diamond in the dia-
mond jousts,

Wliich 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-

ni-ssc,
Had found a glen, gray boulder and

black tarn.
A horror lived about the tarn, and

clave
Like its own mists to all the moun-
tain 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 croun
Of diamonds, one in front, and four

aside.
And Arthur came, and laboring up

the pass.
All in a misty moonshine, unawares
II (1 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
I'lcd like a glittering rivulet to the

tarn :
And down the shingly scaur he

pltmged, 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

riiH

LANCELOT AND ELAINh

Divinely, are tlic kingdom's, not the

King's —
For public use: henci-foruard let

tticrr be,
Once every year, a joust for one of

these :
For so by nine years' proof \\c needs

must learn
Wliich is our miglitic-st, and oui-

srlvrs shall grow
In use of arms and manhood, till we

drive
The heathen, who, some say, shall

rule the land
Hereafter, which Clod 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 v\ith 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 drev\

nigh
Spake (for she had been sick) to

Guinevere,
■' Are you so sick, my Queen, you

cannot move
To these fair jousts?" "Yea,

lord," she said, " ye know it." '
" Then will ye miss," he answer'd,

" the great deeds

291

Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the

lists,
A sight ye love to look on." And

the Queen
Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt

languidly
On Lancelot, where he stood beside

the King.
He thinking that he read her mean-
ing there.
Stay with me, I am sick ; my love is
more
Than many diamonds," yielded; and

a heart
Love-loyal to the lea.st 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 sa\-,
" Sjr King, mine ancient wound is

hardly v\Iiole,
And lets me from the saddle;" and

the King
(jlanced first at him, then her, and

went his way.
No sooner gone ' than suddenly she
began :

"To blame, my lord, Sir Lance-
lot, 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, vv ho 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.

292

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Then of thr crowd vf took no more

account
Than of tlie myriad cricket of the

nu'ud,
When its own voice clings to each

blade of grass,
And every voice is nothing. As to

knights,
Them surely can I silence with all

ease.
But now my lo> al worship is

allow'd
Of all men: many a hard, without

offense.
Has link'd our names together in his

lay,
Lancelot, the flower of bravery,

( juinevere.
The pearl of beaur>-: and oi"-

knights at feast
Have pledged us in this union, whil'

the King
Would listen smiling. How then?

is there more?
Has Arthur spoken aught ? or would

yourself,
Now weary of my service and devoir.
Henceforth be truer to your fault-
less lord? "

She broke into a little scornful

laugh:
" Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the fault-
less King,
That passionate perfection, mv goc '

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

untruth.
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 impossi-
ble.

To inake them like himself: but,
friend, to me

He is all fault who hatli no fault at
all:

I"or who loves me must have a touch
of I'nrth;

Tlie low sun makes the color: I am

)'OUIS,

Not Arthur's, as ye know, save by

the bond.
And therefore hear my words: go to

the joiists:
The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break

our dream
When sweetest ; aiul the vermin

voices here
\Lay buzz so loud — we scorn them,

but they sting."

Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief
of knights:

" And w ith w hat face, after my pre-
text made.

Shall I appear, O Queen, at Came-
lot, I

Before a King who honors his own
word,

As if it were his God's? "

" Yea," said the Queen,
" A moral child w ithout t!ie craft to

rule.
Else had he not lost me: but listen to

me.
If I must find you wit: ve hear it

said
That men go dow n before your spear

at a touch.
But knowing you are Lancelot; your

great name.
This conquers: hide it therefore: go

iinkno\i n :
Win! by this kiss you will: and i t

true King

iteM

LANCELOT AND ELALNE 293

A ''"'^"^> house

As alljor nlory; for to sp.-ak him Thrr. was not: somr li^ht jest

V- 1 *"' ■ , ,, , , , ainoriK them rose

Yc knou-^HKht well, how meek socVr With l,,u,ht,T ciy.n,^ .iou n as ,h.-

V, "l ^""'' 1 : , ^^''''•'^ knight

breath". " '■■ "^ '^' •'^'^P^"^^'''^' ^ ''"" : then the I.or,l of

^'' tmeif •" '" ''"''"' """'■ """ " ^^'f^^J'-'-t thou, :ny .uest, and

Ti,. ' . • , °y "'lat name

V/mum.'"'" ""^ "'" ^"■^•^■^V ''«--•" the lips? for by th,

And presence I nii^^ht guess tiiee

T-L c- I , ''"''^ "^ th<jse,

Then^KOt St Lancelot suddenly to After^ the Km,., who eat in Arthur's

^^"!i known'"" """ "'"'"^^ '" '""'!F''^' / '^-= 'f^^ -^ his Table

II I r 1 , ' , Kound,

He left the barren-beaten thorough- Knoun as they are. to me they are

^-.i '"^5' , unknown."
Chose the greet, path that sliow'd the

rarer foot. Then answer'd Lancelot the chiVf

And there among the solitary downs, „f knights-

FuU^^oiten lo.t in fancy, lost h,s " Known am I. and of Arthur's hall,

-r-ii L , . . , ^"'' known,

T.ll as he traced a famtly-shadowM What I by mere mischance have

Th./ II • 1 ■ .• , brouglit, my shield.

the dales °'' '" """"^ ""^ f'"" ^ K" '« J°-f - -'■ un-

D 1 / ■ . - . know n

?fred"fri ^ "' ^f "'''' '" T'u ^' ^'^-"^'"^ ^°^ t*^*^ ^'^^^^-^^ ask n,e

rircd trom the w\sv, far on a hdl. not,

the towers
1 hither he made, and blew the gate-
way horn.
Then came an old, dumb, myriad-
wrinkled man,
Who let him into lodging and dis-

arni'ii.
And Lancelot mar\ei'd at the word-
. less man :

Hereafter ye 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:

And issuing found the Lord of Asto- Hurt in his first fit"" was mv son, Sir
\\T L Torre.

S^La^'Z' ""' ^" '^""*" '"'^ ^"' "'• ^"^'^ ^-'' his shield Is blank
pir Lavaine, enough.

Moving to n.eet h,m .n the castle His ye can have." Then added

AhhT Vk- . u plain Sir Torre,

And close behind them stept the lily " Yea, since I cannot use it, ye may

have it."

294

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Here lau^hM the t.itlirr, sayiiik;,
" I'ie, Sir Cluirl,

Is that ;iii answer toi ,i noble knij;ht ?

Allow hini ! hut l,a\ aine, my younger
here,

He is so full of lustihooil, he will
riile,

Joust for it, and win, and biin^; it in
an hour,

And set it in tliis damsel's i;olden
hair.

To make her tbrire a> wilful as he-
fore."

" Nay, father, nay, [;ood father,

shame nic not
Before this noble kni^lit," s.iid youn;^

Lavaine,
" ¥or nothini^. Surely I hut play'd

on Torre:
He seein'd so sullen, vext he could

not 1:0:
A jest, no more! for, kiiiiiht, the

maiden dreamt
That some one put this diamund in

her hand.
And that it was too slippery to be

held.
And slipt and fell into some pool or

stream.
The tastle-well, belike; and tlien I

sail!
That ;/' I went and // I fought and

w (jn It
(Hut all was jest and joke among

ourseKes)
Then must she keep it safelier. All

was jest.
Rut, father, give me leave, an if he

will,
To ride to Canielot with this noble

knight:
Win sliall I not, but do my best to

win :
^'nung n;; I am, yet would T do my

best. '

" So ye will urs'^'" me," answer'd

Lancelot,
Smiling a moment, " with your fel-
lowship
O'er these waste downs whereon I

lost myself.
Then were I glad of you as guide

and friend :
And you shall vin this diamond, — -

as I hear
It is a fair large diamond, — if ye

may,
.And \ield it to this maiden, if ye

will."
" ,\ fail large diamond," added plain

Sir Torre,
" SulIi be for queens, and not for

simple maids."
Then she, who held her eyes upon

the ground,
Klaine, and heard her name so tost

about,
I'lush'd slightly at the slight dispar-
agement
Hefore the stranger knight, who,

looking at her,
Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus

return'd :
" If what is fair be but for what is

fair,
.And only queens are to be counted

so.
Rash were my judgment then, who

deem this maid
Might wear as fair a jewel as is on

earth,
Not violating tlie bond of like to

like."

He spKjke and ceased : the lily
maid, Elaine,

Won by the mellow voice before she
look'd,

Lifted her eyes, and read bis linea-
ments.

The great and guilty love he bare the
Queen,

I. AN Ci: LOT AND KI.AINE

29?

Ill battle with the love he hare his

h.r.l,
Had niarr'ii his faic, an. I niark'ii it

ere his time.
Another sinninj; on sik li liei^'hts with

one,
Tlic flower of all the west and all

the world,
Flad been the sleeker tor it: but in

him
Mis nuMid WAS often like ,1 fiend, and

rose
And drove liiin into wa-.tes and S(di-

tudes
For a(;ony, who was yet a livint;

soul.
Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the

goodliest man
That ever amonK ladies ate in hall,
And noblest, when she lifted up her

eyes.
However marr'd, of more than twice

her years,
Seem'd with an ancient swordcut on

the cheek.
And bruised and bronzed, she lifted

up her eyes
And loved him, with that love which

was her doom.

Then the great knight, the dar-
ling of the court.
Loved of the loveliest, into that rude

hall
Slept 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 readilv ansucr'd

he:

But Lancelot, ulieti they glanced at

{ luincM-re.
Suddenlv speaking of the wordless

man,
IL'ard from the Haroii tli:if. ten years

before.
The heathen caught and reft him of

his tongue.
" He learnt and uarn'd me of their

fierce design
Against my house, and lum they

caught and maim'd ;
But L my sons, and little daughter

(led
From bonds or death, and dwelt

among the woods
By the great rive- in a boatman's hut.
Dull days were those, till our good

.Arthu' broke
'Fhe 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.

f) tell us — for we live apart — you
know

Of Arthur's glorious wars." And
Lancelot spoke

And ansv.er'd 'him at full, as having
been

With Arthur in the fight which all
day long

Rang by the \\hite mouth of the vio-
lent Glem;

And in the four loud battles by the
^!lore

Of Uughis; that on Bassa; then the
uar

That thunder'd In and out the gloomy
skirts

Of Celidon^ the forest; and again

By castle Gurnion, where the glori-
ous King

11)6

IDYI.l.S OF ; ill-: K!.\(i

iiad nil liK cuirais Wdrti our L.uly's

HraJ,
C'arvcil iii one niirralil icntrrM iti a

sun
Of silver rays, that ll^;!,l>■Il'd xs he

brcathrd ;
Aiiil at L'aiilciiii had lie hrlp'd his

1 ■-!,
When the stron^; iici^hiiij^s (d the

wild white llcirse
Set every gilded parapet shudderint;;
And up 111 A^;ncd Cathre;4oni(jii, tud.
And down the \ia^te sand^hures oi

'Irath Trcroit,
Where matiy a heathen ull; " and on

the nuHint
Of Uadon I niyselt b<li'ld the Kin^
Char>;e at the head ot all Iiin Table

Knurid.
And all his Ictjions cryint; Christ and

him,
And bleak tlieni ; and I sa\v him,

atfiT, stand
llijili on a heap of slain, from spur to

plume
Red as the risin;^ sun with heathen

biouil.
And seeing me, with a ^reat voice he

cried,
' They are broken, they are broken ! '

for the Kinjj,
However mild he seems at home, nor

tares
For triumph in our mimic wars, the

jousts —
For if his own knight cast him down,

he laut^hs
Sayinji, his knights are better men

than he —
'Vet 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 liiy
maid,

"Save your ^,rl•at self, fair lord;"
ami when he tell

From talk of war to traits of pleas-
ant rj —

Meirin mirthful Iw, hut in a stately
kind —

She still took note that v. hen the liv-
ing smile

Died from his lips, across him came a

cloud

Of melancholy severe, from which

again.
Whenever in her hovering to and

tro
The Illy maid had Si 'ven to make

him cheer,
'Fhere brake a sudden-beaiiilng ten-
derness
Of manners and lA nature: and she

thought
1 hat all was nature, all, perchance,

for her.
And all night long \..i face betore her

lived,
As when a painter, p<iring on a face.
Divinely thrc' all hindrance finds the

man
Behind it, and so paints hiio i!:::t h.i--

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 splen<iid, 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, hesita-
ting:
Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in

the court,

LANCELOT AND LLALNL

" Thl«i shi'fld, niy fririiil, ulicrr is

it ? " and l.avaiiip
Past inward, as sihc nimr tium out

the lower.
There to liis proud 'icitM- J.am-rlnt

tiiiii'd, and sMiiiiith'd
I lie uIiisnv shoiiidfr, luiiiunin!; lo

IllIllM'lt.

Hait--nviiius ot the H.ittcrui^' liatid,

she dtru
Nearer and stood. He lookM, and

■'lore aniazcd
riian it seven men had set upon hun.

saw
1 he maiden standint; 'n tlie deuy

licht.
He had not dieain'd she was so ItiMii-

tit'ul.
Then tame on liim a sort ot sacnd

fear,
I-'or silent, tho' he greeted her, she

stood

Rapt on his face ;'s if it uerr a

(lod's.
Suddcni\' tlash'd on her a wild desire,
1 hat he should wear her favor at the

tilt.
She hra\ed a riotous heait in asking;

for it.
"P;iir lor.i, wlinse name I know not

— nohle 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 l,id\- in the lists.
Such is my wont, as those, u ho know

me, know."
"Yea, so." she answer'd; "then in

wearing mine
Needs must be lesser likelihood,

noble loril,
That those wi now should know

you." Ana ne turnd
Her counsel up and down within his

mind.

297

And friuml it true, ana answer'd,

" True, mv child.
Well, I will wear it: let, h it out to

me:
What is it?" and she tohl i.iui, "A

red sleeve
Uroider'd with pearls," and brout;ht

it: thtn he boutiil
Her token ot: his helmet, with a smile
Saying, " I never )et have done so

nnjch
For any maiden living," an.l the Mood
Sprang to lier f.ue and tiU'd her with

delight ;
liut left her a'l the p.iler, u 'en I,a-

vaine
Returning brought the jet-unbla/on'd

shield.
His brother's; which he gave io

Lancelot,
Who part.'d with his ovmi to fair

r laine :
" Uo me this grace, my ciiild, to have

my shield
In keeping till 1 come." " A grace to

mc,"
She answer'd, " twice to-day. I am

your squire! "
Whereat Lavaine said, laughine

Lily maid,
I"or fear our people call you lily

maid
In earnest, let me bring your color

back ;
t )nce. twire, and thrice: now get you

hence to iied : "
So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his

ow n band,
And thus they moved away: she stay'd

a minute,
I hen made a sudden step to the fate,

and there —
Her bright liair blown about the seri-
ous face
Vet rosy -kindled with her brother's

kiss —
Paused by the gateway, standing near
the shield

298

IDYLLS OF THE KING

In silciKc, while she watch'd their

arms far-off
Sparkle, until they dipt below the

douiis.
Then to her tower she climb'd, and

took the shield,
There kept it, and so lived in fantasy.

Meanwhile the new companions
past aua_\'

Far o'er the long backs of the bush-
less downs,

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
underneath

Struck up and lived along the milky
roofs;

And in the neadovvs tremulous as-
pen tree

And poplars made a noise of fa ling
showers.

And thither wending there that night
they bode.

But when the next day broke from
undergro\inii,

And shot red fire and shadows thro'
the cave,

They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and
rode away :

Then Lancelot saying, " Hear, but
hold my name

Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the
Lake."

Abash'd Lavaine, whose instant rever-
ence,

Dearer to true young hearts than

their own praise.
But left him leave to stammer, " U it

indeed ? "
And after muttering, " The great

Lancelot,"
At last he pot 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, 1 might say that I had

seen."

So spake Lavaine, and when they

reach'd the lists
By Camelot in the me.uiow, let his

eyes
Run thro' the peopled gallery which

hplf round
Lay like a rainbow fall'n upon the

grass,
Until they found the clear-faced

King, vvlio 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 thr rest

of them
Thro' knots and loops and folds innu-
merable
Fled ever thru' the woodwork, till

they found
The new design wherein they lost

themselves,
Yet with all ease, so tender was the

work :

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

299

And, In the costly canopy o'er him set,
Blazed the last diamond of the name-
less king.

Then Lancelot answer'd young
Lavaine and said,
" Mc you call creat: mme is the

firmer scat,
The truer lance: but there is many a

youth
Now crescent, who will come to al! I

am
And overcome it ; 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 La\aine

gaped upon him
As on a thing miraculous, and anon
The trumpeis 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 in the midst, and there so

furiously
Shock, that a man far-off miijlit well

perceive.
If any man that da>^ were left afield,
The hard earth shake, and a low

thunder of arms.
And Lancelot bode a little, till he

saw
Which were the weakc- ; then he

hurl'd into it
Against the stronger: little need to

speak
Of Lancelot in his glory! King,

di.'ke, 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

stranger 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 —
T he grace and versatility of the

man I
Is ;t not Lancelot?" " Wlien has

Lancelot worn
Favor of any lady in the lists ?
Not such his wont, as we, that know

him, know."
" Hov\- then? who then?" a fury

seized them all,
A fiery family passion for the

name
Of Lancelot, and a glory one wit'.

theirs.
They coucird their spears and prick'd

theit steeds, nnd 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 sum-
mit, b"ars, with all
Its stormy crests that smoke ' n

the skies,
Down on a bark, and overbt.

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.

300

IDYLLS OF THE KIN-

Then Sir I.avaine did well and

v\orshipfully ;
He bore a knight of old repute to the

earth,
And brought his horse to Lancelot

uhere he lay.
He up the side, sweating with agony,

got,
But thought to do v\hile he might yet

endure,
And being lustily holpen by the rest,
His part\-, — tho' it seeni'd half-
miracle
To those he fought with, — drave his

kith and kin,
And all the Table Round that held

the lists,
Back to the barri:'r; then the trumpets

blew
Proclaiming his the prize, who wore

the sleeve
Of scarlet, and the pearls; and all the

knights.
His party, cried, " Advance and take

thy prize
The diamond ; " but he answer'd,

" Uianionil me
No diamonds! for (jod'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 1 draw it, ynu will

die."
But he, " I die already with it:

draw —

Draw," — and Lavaine drew, and Sir

Lancelot gave
A marvelous great shriek and ghastly

groan,
And half his blood burst forth, and

down he sank
For the pure pain, and wholly

suoon'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 v\ide world's rumor by

the grove
Of poplars with their noise of falling

showers,
And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he

lay.

Hut on that day wlien Lancelot fled

the lists.
His party, knights of utmost North

and West,
Lords of waste marshes, kings of

desolate 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, crjing that his prize is

death."
" Heaven hinder," said the King,

" that such an one.
So great a knight as we have seen to-
day —
He seeni'd to me another Lancelot —
"^'ea, twenty times 1 thought him

Lancelot —
He must not pass uncared for.

Wherefore, rise,
O Gawain, and ride forth and find

the knight.
^V'oundcd and wearied needs roust he

be near.

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

I charge you that you pet at onrc to

horse.
And, knights and kings there

breathes not one o! 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,
(iarselves will vnd it after. Rise

and take
1 his diamond, and deliver it, and

return.
And bring us where he is, and how

he .'ares,
And cease not from your quest until

ye find."

So sa\in_ from the carven flower
above.
To which it made a restless heart, he

took.
And gave the diamond: then fri, ..

where he sat
At Arthur's right, with smiling face

arose.
With smiling face and frowning heart

a Prince
In the mid might and flourish of his

May,
Gawain, surnamed The Courteous,

fair and strong,
And after Lancelot, Tristram, and

(.^eraint
And Gareth, a good knight, but

therewithal
Sir Modred's brother, and the child

of Lot,
Nor 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.

301

So all in wrath he got to horse and
\vent ;
\Miile Arthur to the banquet, dark in

mood.
Past, thinking, " Is it Lancelot who

hath come
Despite the wound he spake of, all for

gain
Of glory, and hath added wound to

wound,
And ridd'n away to die?" So

fear'd the King,
And, after two days' tarriance there,

return'd.
Then when he saw the Queen, em-
bracing 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 v\hen the King demanded how

she knew.
Said, " Lord, no sooner had )e parted

from us.
Than Lancelot told me of a common

talk
1 hat men went do^vn before his spear

at a touch,
Hut knowing he was Lancelot; his

great name
Conquer'd ; and therefore would he

hide his name
From all men, ev'n the Kmg, and to

this end
Had made the pretext of a hindering

wound.
That he might joust unknown of all,

and learn
If his old ptowess were in aught

decay'd ;
And added, ' Our true Arthur, when

he leatns,
Will well allow my pretext, as for
gain

302

Of purer nlory.'

DYLI.S OF THE KING

Then replied thr King:
" Far lovelier m our Lancelot h.i.l it

been,
In lieu of idly dallyinp \\ ith the truth,
To have trusted me as he hath trusted

thee.
Surely his King and most familiar

friend
Might well have kept his secrrt.

True, indeed,
Albeit I know my knights fantastical,
So tine a fear in our large Lancelot
Alust needs have moved ni\ laughter:

nou remains
But little cause for laughter: his oivn

kin —
111 n> us, rnv Queen, for all who lo\e

him, this! —
His kith and kin, not knowing, set

upon him ;
So that he went sore wounded from

the field :
'^'et good news, too: for goodly liopes

are mine
That Lancelot is no more a lonely

heart.
He wore, against his wont, upon his

helm
A sleeve of scarlet, broidcr'd with

great pearls.
Some gentle maiden's gift."

" Yea, lord," she said,
"Thy hopes are mine," and saying

that, she choked.
And sharply turn'd about to hide her

face,
Past to her chainber, and there flung

herself
Down on the great King's couch, and

writhed upon it,
And clench'd lier fingers till they bit

tlic palm.
And shriek'd out, " Traitor " to the

unhearing wall,

Then flash'd into wild tears, and rose

again,
And moved about h_r palace, proud
and pale.

(jawain the while thro' all the

region round
Rode with his diamond, wearied of

the quest,
Touch'd at all points, except the

poplar grove,
y\nd came at l^st, tho' late, to Asto-

lat:
Whom glittering in eiiainerd arms

the maid
(ilanced at, and cried, '' What news

from Canielot, lord?
What of the knight with the red

sleeve? " " He won."
" I knew it," she said. " But patted

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 bore the prize and could

not find
The victor, but had ridd'n a random

round
To seek him, and had wearied of the

search.
To whom the Lord of Astolat, " Bide

with us,
And ride no more at random, noble

Prince!
Here was the knight, and heri; he left

a shield ;
This will he send or come for:

furthermore

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

Our son is with him; «c shall hear

anon,
Needs must we hear." To this tlie

courteous Prince
Accorded with his wonted courtesy,
Courtesy with a touch of traitor in

it,
And stay'd ; ar.il cast his eyes on fair

Ellaine :
Where could be found face daintier?

then her shape
From forehead down to foDt, perfect

— again
From foot to forehead excjuisitcly

turn'd :
"Well — if I bide, lo! this w;id

flower for me ! "
And oft they met amon^ the jr.-crden

yews,
And there he set hiinself to play upon

her
With sallyinK wit, free Hashes frcjm a

hci^jht
Above her, graces cf 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 ot our noble King,
Why ask you not to see the shield he

left,
Whence you might learn his name?

Why slight >our King,
And lose the quest he sent 30U on,

and prove
No surer than our falcon yesterday,
Who lost the hern ue slipt her at,

and went
To all the winds? " " Nay, by mine

head," s-nid he,
" I lose it, as we lose the lark in

heaven,
O damsel, in the light of your blue

eyes;
But an ye will it kt me sec the
shield."

And when the shield was brought,

and Gawain saw
Sir Lancelot's azure lions, c ivvn'd

with gold,
Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh,

and nicick'd :
" Right wa5 the King! our Lancelot!

that true man ! "
" And right w as L" she answcr'd

merrily, " I,
Who dream'd my knight the greatest

knight of all."
"And if / dream'd," said (Jawain,

" that you love
This greatest knight, your pardon!

lo, ye know it!
Speak therefore: shall 1 waste myself

in vain ? "
Full simple was her answer, " What

know I ?
-My brethren have be-r? all my fellow-
ship;
And 1, when often they nave talk'd of

love,
Wish'd it had been mv mother, for

they talk'd,
Meseem'd. of what they knew not;

so myself —
I know- not if I know what true .ove

is,
But if I know, then, if I love not

him,
I know there is none other I can

love."
" Vea, by God's dea.n," said he, "ye

love hin] well.
But would not, knew ye what all

others know.
And w hom he loves." " So be it,"

cried Elaine.
And lifted her fair face and moved

away :
But he pursued her, railing, " Stay a

little !
One golden minute's grace; he wort

your sleeve :
Would he break faith with one I may
not name ?

304

IDYLLS OF THP: KING

Must our true man chan^;c like a Icat

at last?
Nay — like ennw: why tlifn, tar be it

from me
To cross our miRhty Lancelot in his

loves !
And, ilanisel, for I deem you know

full well
Where your great knight is liiddeii,

let me leave
My quest with you; the liiamond

also: here!
For if you love, it will be s\vcet to

give it;
And if be love, it will he sweet to

have it
From your ow n hand ; and u liether

lie love or not,
A diamond is a diamond. Fare vnu

well
A thousand times! — a thousand

times fareuell !
Yet, if he lOve, and his love hold, we

two
May meet at court hereafter: there, I

tnink.
So ye will learn the courtesies of the

court,
We two shall know eacli other."

Then he j^ave.
And slightly kiss'd the hand to which

he gave.
The diamond, and all weaned of tlie

quest
Leapt on lu's horse, and caroling as

he \\ ent
A true-love ballad, lightly rode aw.iy.

Thence to the court he past ; there

told the King
WHiat the King knew, " Sir Lancelot

is the knight.''
And added, " Sire, my liege, so much

I h'arnt;
But faii'd to find him tlio' I rode all

round
The region: but I lighted on the maid

Whose sleeve he '-ore; she loves him;
and to her,

Deeming our courtesy is the trues,
law,

I gave the diamond: she will render
it;

For b) mine head she knows his hid-
ing-place."

The seldom-frowning King frown'd,
and replieil,

" Too courteous truly! ye shall go no
more

On quest of ni ne, seeing that ye for-
get

Obedience is the courtesy due to
kings."

He spake and parted. Wrotii, but

all in awe.
For twenty strokes of tlie blood, with-
out a word,
Linger'd that other, staring after

him ;
Then -hook his hair, strode off, and

bu/./'d abroad
About the maid of Astolat, and her

love.
y\ll ears were prick'd at once, all

tongues were loosed.
'■ The maid of Astolat loves Sir

Lancelot,
Sir Lanceh'f 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 w ith the

sharp news.
She, that had heard the noise of it

before,
But sorrowing Lancelot should have

!>tooi) d so low ,
^Llrr'd her friend's aim with pale

tranquillity.

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

So ran tiie tale like (iro about tlie

court,
Fire in dry stubble a iiiia-davs' uon-

der flared :
1 ill ev'n tlu- knights at baiuiuet tu ice

or thrice
Forgot to drink to J.ancelot and tlie

Queen,
And pledging I.ancelot and the lily

maid
Smiled at each other, while the

Queen, who sat
With lips severel) placid, felt ;he

knot
Climb in her throat, and with her feet

unseen
Crush'd the wild passion out against

the floor
iieneath the banquet, where the meats

became
As uormuood, and she hated all u ho
pledged.

Hut 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 bis knee, stroked his grav face

and said,
" Father, you call me wilful, and the

fault
Is yours wlm let me have my will, ami

now.

Sweet father, will you let me lose mj-
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 fur dear
Lavaine ;

Ride," answer'd he: "we needs must
hear anon

Of him, and of that other." " Aye,"
she said,

" And of that other, for I needs must

hence
And find that other, wherescje'er he

be.
And with mine own hand give his

diamond to him,
Lest I be found a> faithless in the

quest
As yon proud Prince who left the

c,uest to me.
Suect father, I behold him in my

dreams
Gaunt as it were the skeleton of

himself,
Death-pale, for lack of gentle maid-
en's aid.
The gentler-born the maiden, the

more bound,
Aly father, to be sweet and serviceable
lo 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,
" Aye, aye, the diamond: wit ye well,

my child,
Right fain were I to learn this knight

were uhole.
Being our greatest: jea, 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 w ilfu! you must go."

Lightly, her suit allow'd, she slipt
awav.
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 echo'd in her

heai t,

3< )6

IDYLLS OF THL KlNCi

" BcinK !>(i M"r\ wilful yrm mii^ !ii'-"
Hut she \\ris happy t'tioiijih aiiil ^lindk

it off,
As ui- shake off the bee that bu//i>

at us ;
And in her heart she aiisuer'd It ami

said,
" What matter, so I iielp him back tn

lite?"
Then tar away uitii ^;'hh1 Sir Torre

for piide
Rode o'er the hini; backs of the bush-
less dou ns
To Camelot, and iu-fore the iit> nates
Came on her brotlier with a happy

face
Making a roan horse caper and curvet
For pleasure all about a field of (low-
ers :
Whom when she saw, " Lavaine,"

she cried, " Lavaine,
How fares my lord Sir Lancelot: "

He ama/ed,
"Torre and Flaine! why here?

Sir Lat'.celot !
How know \e my lord's name is

Lancchit ? "
But when the maid liad told him all

her tale,
Then turn'd Sir Torre, and beinjj; in

his moods
Left them, and under the strange-

statued gate,
WTiere Arthur's wars were render'd

mystically.
Past up tlie still rich citv to his kin,
His own far blood, which dwelt at

Camelot ;
And her, Lavaine 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.

iieca.ise he IkuI not looked it from his

helm.
Hut meant once more perchance to

tourney in it.
.And when they gain'd the cell where-
in he slept.
Hi', battle-w ritlien arms anil mighty

hands
L.iy naked on the wolfskin, and a

dream
()f dragging down his enenn made

them nio\ e.
Then she that --aw him l\in^; unsleek,

unshorn,
daunt as it were the skeleton of liini-

self,
I'tter'd a little tender dolorous cry.
The sound not wonteil in a place so

still
Woke the sick knight, and while he

roll'd his eyes
Vet blank from sleep, she started to

him, saying,
" 'i'our prize the diamond sent you by

the King: "
His eyes glisten'd: she fancicil, " Is

it for me? "
.And when the maid had t(dd him all

the tale
Of King and Priice, ' ■• diamond

sent, the quest
Assign'd to her not worthy of it, she

knelt
Full 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 hath

wearied you.
Rest must yoi; hive." " No rest for

nie," she said ;
" Nav, for near vou, fair lord, I am at
rest."

LAN CK LOT AND ELAINE

What miKht she mean by that? his

lar^;f hlack eyes,
\'et larger thro' his ifanncss, dut-lt

upon her,
Till all her heart's sad sctrct h!azc<i

itself
In the heart's colors on lur simple

face ;
And Lancelot lonkM atui \vas pci-

ple\t in mind,
An<l bein^ weak in body said no

more ;
But did nf)t love the ccjlor; woman's

love,
Save one, he not re^^arded, and so

turn'd
Sighinn, and feign'd a sleep until he
slept.

Tlien rose Klaine and ^liJed thro'
the (ields,
And past beneath the weirdly-sculp-
tured gates
Far up the dim rich city to her kin;
There bode the ni{:ht: 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 ghostlike to and

fro
Gliding, and every day she tended

him,
And likcuise many a night: and

Lancelot
Would, tho' he call'd his wound a

little hurt
Whereof he should be quickly whole,

at times
Brain-feverous in his heat and agony,

seem
Uncourteous, even he: but the meek

maid
Sweetly forbore him ever, being to

him
Meeker than any child to a rough
nurse,

Milder than any mother to a sick

child,
And never woman yet, since man's

first tall.
Did kindlier unto man, but her deep

love
l.pbore her; till the hermit, skili'd in

all
1 he siniphN and the science ot that

tjme,
Told him that her fine care had saved

his life.
And the sick man forgot her simple

blush,
Would call her friend and sister,

sueet Klaine,
\V'ould listen for her comini,' .ind re-
gret
Her parting step, and held her

tinderK',
And 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 he 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,
ILs honor rooted in dishonor stood,
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely
true.

Yet the great knight in his mid-
sickness made

Full many a holy vow and pure re-
solve.

These, as but born of sickness, could
not live:

For when the blood ran lustier in
him again.

3()H

IDYLLS Ol IIIL KING

Full oftfn tliP liriuht ;ni.ii;c of one

'■'"'•
Makin^i a triMchiTous quiet in In-.

hcarr,
Dispersed his resolution like a cloud.
Tlun if the maiden, while that

nhostly i;race
Hcain'd on his fanry, spoke, he an-

swcr'd not,
Or short anil coldly, and she knew

ri^ht well
Wiat the rou'^'h sickness meant, bat

what this meant
She knew not, and the sorrow duiinrd

her sis:ht,
And dr;ue her ere her time across the

ticlds
Far into t!ie rich cit\', where alone
She murniur'd, " \'ain, in vain: it can-
not be.
He will not love nie : Ikjw then?

must I die? "
Then as a little helpless innocent

bird,
That has but one plain passage of few-
notes,
Will sinK the simple passable o'er and

o'er
For all an .April inorniim, till the ear
Wearies to hear it, so the simple

maiil
Went half the nijjht repeatinL',

" Mu>t I die?"
And now to rif;ht she turn'd, and now

to left,
And f(jund no ease in turninir or in

rest ;
And " Fliin or di'ath," she mutter'd,

" death or him,"
Again and like a burthen, " Him or
death."

But when Sir Lancelot's deadly

hurt was whole,
To Ast(dat returning: rode the three.
There morn by morn, arraying her

sweet self

in that wherein bhe deem'd shi luok'd

her be^t,
.She came belore Sir Farnelot, iin ^he

thouuht
"If 1 be loved, these are ni\' festal

robes.
If n(Jt. ttie victim's liowers before he

fall."
.And Lancelot ever prest upon tlie

maid
That she should ask some goodly gift

of him
I'or her own self or hers; "and ilo

not shun
, . ..^•'eak the w ish most near to your

true heart ;
Such service h.ive ye done me, that I

make
M>' will of \ours, and Prince and

Lord am I
In mine own land, and what I v^ill I

can."
Tlun like a trhost she lifted up her

face.
Hut like a ghost without the power to

speak.
And Lancelot saw that she withheld

her wish.
And bode among them yet a little

space
Till he should learn it; and one morn

it chanced
fie foimd her in among the garden

yew s.
And said, " Delay no longer, speak

your wish.
Seeing I go to-day:" then out she

brake:
"Going? and we shall never see you

more.
And I must die for vtant of one bold

word."
" Speak: that I live to hear," he said,

'' is yours."
Then suddenly and passionately she

spoke ;
" I have gone mad. I love you : let
mc die."

LANCKI.OT AND KLAINE

'Ah, sistrr," ansvvcrM I.aiuclot,

" wliat is tins? "
And iiinocfruly extcniiinij her white

arms,
" Vour lovf," >li(' saiil, " \i.iir love —

to be your witr. "
And Lancelot ansuer'd, " Had I

chosen to wed,
I hail heen ucdded earlier, sweet

Klaine:
But now there nev.r uill be wife of

mine. "
" No, no," she cried, " I care not to

be wife,
But to be with you still, to see your

face,
To serve you, and to follow jou thro'

the v\orld."
And Lancelot answerM, " Nay, the

world, the world,
All car and eye, with such a stupid

heart
To interpret ear and eye, and such a

ton^^ue
To blare its own intcrprctati(jn —

naj-,
Full ill then should I quit your

brother's love,
And your good father's kindness."

And she said,
" Not to be w ith you, not to see your

face —
Alas for nie then, my p,od days are

done."
"Nay, noble maid," he answer'd,

" ten times na\ !
Thisis not love: hut love's first flash

in youth,
-Most common; yea, I know it of

mine ou n self:
And you yourself will smile at your

oun self
Hereafter, when you yield vour flower

of life
To one more fitly yours, not thrice

your age:
And then will I, for true you are and
sweet

.309

Beyond nunc old tieliet in woman-
hood.
More speiially should your ^'ood

kni;;ht be poor,
lindow you with broad land and terri-
tory
Kven to the half my realm beyond the

seas.
So that would make ytm happy: fur-
thermore,
Kv'n to the death, as tho' ye were my

blood.
In all your quarrels uill ] be your

kni;;ht.
This will I do, dear damsel, for your

sake.
And more than this I cannot."

,., . , , While he spoke

Mie neither blush'd nor shook, but

<leathl>-pale
Stood grasping what was nearest, then

replied :

"Of all this will I nothing" and so
fell,

And thus they bore her swooning to
her tower.

Then spake, tn u hen thro' those
black walls of >ew

'I'lieir talk had pierced, her father:
" A\c, a flash,

I fear me, that will strike mv blossom
dead.

Too courteous are ye, fair Lord
Lancelot.

I pray you, use some rough discour-
tesy

To blunt or break her passion."

.. .^1 Lancelot said,

1 hat were agamst me : what I can I

will ; "
And there that day remaln'd, and to-

ward even
Sent for his shield: full meekly rose

the maid,

.■5'"

IDYLLS OF TIIK KING

Stript i)fF tliP CUM', anil i_'.ivi- the iiakij

shield ;
Then, wlirn she licarii Ins horx' iiiniii

the stones,
Unclasping Hunt; the caseiiietit hatk,

an>l look'd
Down on his hehii, frnni whuh tier

sleevp hail ^^one.
And I.ancchjt knew the lutle clinking

smind ,-
And stic hy tact of love was well

aw are
'I'hat l.aticelot knew that she was

liKikinjj at hnn.
And yet he ^;laiucd not up, nor

waved his hand,
Nor hade farewell, hut sadly rode

away.
Ihis was tlic one discourtesy that he

used.

So in her tower alone the maiden
sat:

His vpiy sliield was ;:one ; only the
ca^e.

Her oiMi poor work, her empty lahor,
left.

Kut still ■-he lieard liim, still his pic-
ture form'd

And iirvw hetwcen her and the pic-
tured wall.

Then came her fatlier. sayinjz in low
tones,

" Have comfort," whom she greeted
quietly.

Then came her brethren sayinjr,
" Peace to thee,

Sweet sister," whom she answer'd
with all calm.

But when they left her to herself
apain,

Death, like a friend's voice from a dis-
tant field

Approaching thro' the darkness,
call'd ; the owls

Wailing had power upon her, and
she mixt

Her f.mcics with tlie sallow -rifted

Klooms
( )f evening, and the moaiiinj^s of tiic

w ind.

And in those days she made a little

song,
.And tall'il her son;:. "The Som; of

l.ove and De.iih."
/\nd sanK it: sweetly could she make

and sing.

" Sweet is true love tho' given in

vain, in vain ;
■And sweet is death who puts an end

to pain :
I know not which is sweeter, no, not

"Love, art 'nou sweet? then hit-
ter death must be;

l.ove, thou art bitter; sweet is death
to me.

( ), Love, if (k'ath he sweeter, let nic
die.

" Sweet love, that seems not made

to fade away,
Sweet (h'ath, that seems to make us

loveless clay,
I kno\v not which is sweeter, no, net

" I fain would follow love, if that

co»i!d he ;
I needs must follow death, who calls

for me ;
Call and I follow, I follow! let me

die."

High with the last line scaled her
voice, and this.

All in a fiery dawning w iKl with
w ind

That shook her tower, the brothers
heard, and thought

With shuddering, " Hark the Phan-
tom of the house

LANCHI.frr .\\l) 1,1 A INK

That pvfr sfirirks before a death,"

anil call'd
The tathrr, and all ilirrr m hurry

and fear
Ran to her, and lo! the bl(H)d-rcd

light of dawn
Flared on her face, she •.hrilling.

"Let me die!"

As ulirn «e dwell upon .1 word
wc lino« ,
Repeating, till the word wc know so
well

Becomes a wonder, and wo know not

why,
So dwelt fli- father r,n lu-r fare, arid

thoiight
"Is th's Klaine?" till back the

maiden fell,
Then Ktvc a languid hand to each,

and lay,
Speaking a still good-morrow with

her eyes.
At last she said, " S« eet brothers,

yesternight
I seem'd a curious little maid again.
As happy as when we dwelt among

the woods.
And when ye used to take me with

the flood
Up the great river in the boatman's

boat.
Only ye vvould not pass beyond the

cape
That has the poplar on it: there ye

fixt
Vour limit, oft returning with the

tide.
And yet I cried because ye would not

pass
Beyond it, and far up the shining

flood
Until we found the palace of the

King.
And yet ye would not; but this night

I dream'd
That I was all alone upon the flood.

3«i

An.! then I said, ' Now shall I have

my will : '
And there I woke, but s..;. the wish

lemain'd.
So let me hence that I i,i.-iy pas-, at

la<<t
Beyond the poplar and far up the

Hood,

Until I (ind the palace of the King.
1 here will I i-titt r in aniong tlinn

all,

And no man there will dare to mock
at nie ;

But there the fine Cawain will won-
der at me,

And there the great Sir Lancelot
muse at me;

(iawain, who bade a thousand fare-
wells to me,

Lancelot, who coldly went, nor bade
me one:

And there the King will know me

and my love.
And there the Queen herself will pity
me.

And all the gentle court will welcome

me.
And after my long voyage I shall

rest! "

" Peace," said hr father, " O my

child, ye seem
Light-headed, for what force is yours

to go
So far, being si.k? and wherefore

would ye look
On this proud fellow again, who

scorns us all .' "

Then the rough Torre began to
heave and move.
And bluster into stormy sobs and
say,

" I never loved him : an I meet with

him,
I care not howsoever great he be
Then will I strike at him and strike

him down.

312

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Give me pood fortune, I will strike

him dead,
For this discomfort he hath done the

house."

To whom the gentle sister made

reply,
" Fret not yourself, dear brother, nor

be wroth,
Seeing i*^ is no more Sir x^ancelot's

faui.
Not to love me, than it Is mine to

love
Him of all men who seems to me the

hiphest.''

"Highest?" '.he father answer'd,

echoing " highest? "
(He meant to break the passion in

her) "nay,
Daughter, I know not what you call

the highest-;
But this I know, for all the people

know it,
He loves the Queen, and in an open

shame :
And she returns his love in open

shame ;
H this be high, what is it to be

low ? "

Then spake the lily maid of Asto-

lat:
" Sweet father, all too faint and sick

am I
For anger: these are slanders: never

yet
Was noble man but made ignoble

talk.
He makes no friend who never made

a foe.
But now it is my glory to have loved
One peerless, without stain: so let

me pass,
My father, howsoe'er I seem to you.
Not all unhappy, having luved God's

best

Anc" greatest, tho' my love had no

return :
Yet, seeing you desire your child to

lii e,
Thanks, but you work against /our

o"vn desire ;
For if I could believe the things you

say
I should but die the sooner; where-
fore cease.
Sweet father, and bid call the ghostly

mar
Hither, and let me shrive me clean,

and die."

So when the ghostly man had

come and gone,
She with a face, bright as for sin

forgiven.
Besought Lavaine to w.-ite as she

devised
A letter, word for word; and when

he ask'd,
" Is it for Lancelot, is it for my dear

lord?
Then will I bear it gladly;" she

replied,
" For Lancelot and the Queen and

all the world,
But I myself must bear it." Then

he wrote
The letter she devised; which being

writ
And folded, " O sweet father, tender

and true.
Deny me not," she said — "ye never

yet
Denied my fancies — this, however

strange,
My latest: lay the letter in my hand
A little ere I die, and close '.'le hand
Upon it; I shall guard it even in

death.
And when the heat Is gone from out

my heart.
Then take the little bed on which I

died

For Lancelot's love, end deck it like

the Qu"en's
For richness, and me also like the

Queen
In «I1 I have of rich, and lay me on

It.

And let there be prepared i chariot-
bier
To take me to the river, and a barge
He ready on the river, clothed in
black.

I go in state to court, to meet the

Queen.
There surely I shall speak for mine

own self,
And none of you can speak for me so

well.

And therefore let our dumb old man

alone
Go with me, he can steer and row

and he '

Will guide me to that palace, to the

doors."

She ceased: her father promised;

whereupon
She grew so cheerful that they

deem'd her death
Was rather in the fantasy than the

blood.
But ten slow mornings past, and on

the eleventh
Her father laid the letter in her

hand.

And closed .he hand upon it, and she

died.
So that day there was dole in Astolat.

But when the next sun brake from

underground.

Then, those two brethren slowly
with bent brows

Accompanying, the sad chariot-bier

rast like a shadow thro' the field
that shone

Full-summer, to that stream where-
on the barge,

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

313

Pall'd all its length in blackest

^ samite, lay.

There sat the lifelong creature of the

house,

Loyal the dumb old servitor, on
deck.

Winking his eyes, and twisted all his
face.

So those two brethren from the

chariot took
And on the black decb laid her in

her bed.
Set in her hand a lily, o'er her hung
1 he silken case with braided blazon-

mgs.
And kiss'd her quiet brows, and say-

ing to her,
"Sister, farewell forever," and
again,

"Farewell, sweet sister," parted all

in tears.
Then rose the dumb old servitor

and the dead, '

Oar'd by the dumb, went upward

with the flood —
In her right hand the lily, in her left
I he letter — all her bright hair

streaming down

And al! the coverlid was cloth of

gold

Drawn to her waist, and she herself
■n white

All but her face, and that clear-fea-
tured face

Was lovely, for she did not seem as
dead.

But fast asleep, and lay as the' she
smiled.

That day Sir Larcelot at the

palace craved
Audience of Guinevere, to give at

last
The price of half a realm, h.^i costly

gift, '

Hard-won and hardly -^on with

bruise and blow,

3 '4

IDYLLS OF THE KING

With deaths of others, ana almost

his own,
The nine-y cars-fought- for diamonds:

for he saw
One of her house, and sent him to

the Queen
Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen

agreed
With such and so unmoved a majesty
She might have secm'd her statue,

but that he,
Low-drooping till he wellnigh kiss'd

her feet
For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong

eye
The shadow of some piece of pointed

lace.
In the Queen's shadow, vibrate on

the walls,
And parted, laughing in his courtly

heart.

All in an oriel on the summer side.
Vine-clad, of Arthur's palace toward

the stream.
They met, and Lancelot kneeling ut-

ter'd, " Queen,
Lady, my liege, in whom I !ave my

joy.
Take, what I had not won except for

you,
These jewels, and make me happy,

making them
An armlet for the roundest arm on

earth,
Or necklace for a neck to which the

swan's
Is tawnier t.ian her cygnet's: these

are words:
Your beauty is your beauty, and I

sin
In speaking, yet O grant my worship

of it
Words, as we grant grief tears.

Such sin in words
Perchance, we both can pardon: but,

my Queen,

I hear of rumors flying thro' your

court
Our bond, as not the bond of man

and wife.
Should have in it an absoluter trust
To make up that defect: let rumors

be:
When did not rumors fly? these, as

I trust
That you trust me in your own

nobleness,
I may not well believe that you

believe."

While thus he spoke, half turn'd

away, the Queen
Brake from the vast oriel-embower-
ing vine
Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast

them off.
Till all the place whereon she stood

was green ;
Then, when he ceased, in one cold

passive hand
Received at once and laid aside the

gems
There on a table near her, and

replied :

" It may be, I am quicker of belief
Than you believe me, Lancelot of

the Lake.
Our bond is not the bond of man

and wife.
This good is in it, whatso'er of ill,
It can be broken easier. I for you
This many a year have done despite

and wrong
To one whom ever in my heart of

hearts
I did acknowledge nobler. What

are these?
Diamonds for me! they had been

thrice their worth
Being your gift, had you not lost

your own.
To loyal hearts the value of all gifts

Must vary as the giver's. Not for

me!
For her! for your new fancy. Only

this
Grant me, I pray you: have your

joys apart.
I doubt not that however changed,

you keep

So much of what is graceful: and

myself
Would shun to break those bounds of

courtesy
In which as Arthur's Queen I move

and rule:
So cannot speak my mind. An end

to this!
A strange one! yet I take it with

Amen.
So pray you, add my diamonds to

her pearls;
Deck her with these; tell her, she

shines me down:
An armlet for an arm to which the

Queen's
Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck
O as much fairer — as a faith once

fair
Was richer than these diamonds —

hers not mine —
Nay, by the mother of our Lord him-
self,
Or hers or mine, mine now to work

my will
She shall not have them."

, Saying which she seized,
And, thro the casement standing

wide for heat,
Flung them, and down they flash'd,

and smote the stream.
Then from the smitten surface

flash'd, as it were,
Diamonds to meet them, and they

past away.
Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in

half disdain
At love, life, all things, on the

window ledge.

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

2^5

Close underneath his eyes, and right

across
Where these had fallen, slowly past

the barge
Whereon the lily maid of Astolat
Lay smilmg, like a star in blackest

night.

But the wild Queen, who saw not,
burst away

To weep and wail in secret; and the
barge,

On to the palace-doorway sliding

paused.
There two stood arm'd, and kept the

door; to whom.
All up the marble stair, tier over

tier,
Were added mouths that gaped, and

eyes that ask'd,
"What is it?" but that oarsman's

haggard face.
As hard and still as is the face that

men
Shape to their fancy's eye from

broken rocks
On sorne cliti-side, appall'd them,

and they said,
' He IS enchanted, cannot speak —

and she.
Look how she sleeps — the Fairy

Queen, so fair!
■Vea, but how pale! what are they?

flesh and blood?
Or come to take the King to Fairy-
land ?

For some do hold our Arthur cannot
die,

But that he passes into Fairyland."

While thus they babbled of the

King, the King
Came girt with knights: then turn'd

the tonguelcss man
From the half-face to the full eye,

and rose
And pointed to the damsel, and the

doors.

;^l6

IDYLLS OF THE KING

So Arthur bade the meek Sir

Percivale
And pure Sir Galaliad to uplift the

maid ;
And reverently they bore her into

hall.
Then came the fine Gawain and

wonder'd at her,
And Lancelot later came and mused

at her,
And last the Queen herself, and

pitied her:
But Arthur spied the letter in her

hand,
Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it;

this was all:

" Most noble lord, Sir Lancelot of

the Lake,
I, sometime call'd the maid of Asto-

lat,
Com.e, for you left me taking no

farewell.
Hither, to take my last farewell of

you.
I loved you, and my love had no

return.
And therefore my tiue love has been

my death.
And therefore to our Lady Guine-
vere,
And to all other ladies, I make

moan :
Pray for my soul, and yield me

burial.
Pray for my soul thou, too, Sir

Lancelot,
As thou art a knight peorless."

Thus he read ;
And ever in the reading, lords and

dames
Wept, looking often from his face

who read
To hers which lay so silent, tnd at

times,
So touch'd were they, half-thinking

that her lips,

Who had devised the letter, moved
again.

Then freely spoke Sir Lancelot to
them all ;

" My lord liege Arthur, and alt ye
that hear.

Know that for this most gentle maid-
en's death

Right heavy an. I ; for good she was
and true.

But loved me with a love beyond all
love

In women, whomsoever I have
kni' ■ .

Yet to be loved makes not to love
again ;

Not at my years, however it hold in
youth.

I swear by truth and knighthood
that I gave

No cause, not willingly, for such a
love:

To this I call my friends in testi-
mony,

Her brethren, and her father, who
himself

Besought me to be plain and blunt,
and use,

To break her passion, some discour-
tesy

Against mv nature: what I could, I
did.

I left her and I bade her no farewell ;

Tho' had I dreamt the damsel would
have died,

I might have put my wits to some
rough use.

And help'd ner from herself."

Then sjid the Queen
(Sea was her wrath, yet working

after storm)
" Ye might at least have done her so

much grace.
Fair lord, as would have help'd her

from her death."

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

He raised his head, their eyes met

and hers fell,
He adding,

" Queen, she would not he content
Save that I wedded her, which could

not be.
Then might she follow mc thro' the

world, she ask'd;
It could not be. I told her that her

love
Was but the flash of youth, would

darken down
To rise hereafter in a stiller flame

Toward one more worthy of her

then would I,
More specially were he, she wedded,

poor,
Estate them with large land and ter-
ritory
In mine own realm beyond the nar-
row seas.
To keep them in all joyance: more

than this
I could not; this she would not, and
she died."

He pausing, Arthur answer'd,
" O my knight.

It will be to thy worship, as my
knight.

And mine, as head of all our Table
Round,

To see that she be buried worship-
fully."

So toward that shrine which then
in all the realm

Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly
went

The marshal'd Order of their Table
Round,

And Lancelot sad beyond his wont,
to sre

The maiden buried, not as one un-
known,

Nor meanly, but with gorgeous ob-
sequies,

And mass, and rolling music, like a

queen.
And when the knights had laid her

comely head
Low in the dust of half-forgotten

kings,
Ihen Arthur spake among them,

" Let her tomb
Be costly, and her image there-
upon.
And let the shield of Lancelot at

her feet
Be carven, and her lily in her hand.
And let the story of her dolorous

■ oyage
For all true hearts be blazon 'd on her

tomb
In letters gold and azure!" which

was wrought
Thereafter; biit when now the lords

and dames
And people, from the high door

streaming, brake
Disorderly, as homeward each, the

Queen,
Who ma.k'd Sir Lancelot whe-e he

moved apart,
Drew near, and sigh'd in passing,

" Lancelot,
Forgive me; mine was jealousy in

love."
He answer'd with his eyes upon the

ground,
"That is love's curse; pass on, my

Queen, forgiven."
But Arthur, who beheld his cloudy

brows,
Approach 'd him, and with full affec-
tion said,

" Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in

whom I have
Most joy and most affiance, for I

know
What thou hast been in battle by my

side.
And many a time have watch'd thee

at the tilt

3'»

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Strike down the lusty and long prac-
tised knight,
And let the younger and unskiU'd go

To win his honor and to make his

name,
And loved thy courtesies and thee, a

man
Made to be loved ; but now I would

to God,
Seeing the homeless trouble in thine

eyes,
Thou couldst have loved this maiden,

shaped, it seems,
By God for thee alone, and from

her face,
If one may judge the living by the

dead.
Delicately pure and marvelously

fair.
Who might have brought thee, now

a lonely man
Wifeless and heirless, noble issue,

sons
Born to tlie glory of thy name and

fame.
My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of

the Lake."

Then answer'd Lancelot, " Fair

she was, my King,
Pure, as you ever wish your knights

to be.
To doubt iier fairness were to want

an eye.
To doubt her pureness were to want

a heart —
Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy

love
Could bind him, but free love will

not be bound."

" Free love, so bound, were freest,"

said the King.
" Let love be free ; free love is for

the best:
And, after heaven, on our dull side

of death.

What should be best, if not so pure a

love
Clothed in so pure a loveliness? yet

thee
She fail'd to bind, tho' being, as I

think,
Unbound as yet, and gentle, as I

know."

And Lancelot answer'd nothing,
but he went.
And at the inrunning of a little

brook
Sat by the river in a cove, and

watch'd
'''he high reed wave, and lifted up

his eyes
And saw the barge that brought her

moving down.
Far-off, a blot upon the stream, and

said
Low in himself, " Ah, simple heart

and sweet,
"^'e loved me, damsel, surely with a

love
Far tenderer than iny Queen's.

Prry tor thy soul ?
Aye, mat will L Farewell, too —

now at last —
Farewell, fair lily. ' Jealousy in

love ? '
Not rather dead love's harsh heir,

jealous pride?
Queen, if I grant the jealousy as of

love,
May not your crescent fear for name

and fame
Speak, as it waxes, of a love that

wanes?
Wliy did the King dwell on my

name to me?
Mine own name shames me, seeming

a reproach,
Lancelot, whom the Lady of the

Lake
Caught from his mother's arms —
the wondrous one

THE HOLY GRAIL

Who passes thro' the vision of the

night —
She chanted snatches of mysterious

hymns
Heard on the winding waters, eve

and morn
She kiss'd me saying, " Thou art

fair, my child,
As a king's son," and often in her

arms
She bare me, pacing on the dusky

mere.
Would she had drown 'd me in it,

where'er it be!
For w hat am I ? what profits me my

name
Oi greatest knight? I fought for it,

and have it :
Pleasure to have it, none; to lose it,

pam ;
Now grown a part of me: but what

use in it?
To make men worse by making my

sin known ?
Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming

Not knowing he should die a holy
man.

great ;
AI?s, for Arthur's greatest knight, a

man
Not after Arthur's heart! I needs

must break
These bonds that sc defame me : not

without
She wills it: would I, if she will'd it?

nay.
Who knows? but if I would not,

then may God,
I pray him, send a sudden Ang- '

down
To seize me by the hair and bear me

far.

And fling me deep in that forgotten

mere.
Among the tumbled fragments of the

So groan'd Sir Lancelot in re-
reinnrseful pain,

THE HOLY GRAIL

From noiseful arms, and acts of

prowess done
In tournament or tilt. Sir Percivale,
Whom Arthur and his knighthood

call'd The Pure,
Had pass'd into the silent life of

prayer.
Praise, fast and alms; and leaving for

the cowl
The helmet in an abbey far away
From Camelot, there, and not long

after, died.

And one, a fellow-monk among

the rest,
Ambrosiu;, loved him much beyond

the rest.
And honor'd him, and wrought into

his heart
A way by love that waken 'd love

within.
To answer that which came: and as

they sat

Beneath a world-old yew-tree, dark-
ening half

The cloisters, on a pustful April
morn

That puff'd the swaying branches
into smoke

Above them, ere the summer when
he died.

The monk Ambrosius question'd
Percivale:

" O brother, I have seen this yew-
tree smoke,

Spring after spring, for half a hun-
dred years:

For never have I known the world
without.

Nor ever stray 'd beyond the pale:
but thee,

320

IDYLLS OF THE KING

When first thou earnest — such a

courtesy
Spake thro' the limbs and in the

voice — I knew
For one of those who cat in Arthur's

hall;
For good ye are and bad, and like to

coins,
Some true, some light, but every one

ot you
Stamp'd with the image of the King;

and now
Tell me, what drove thee from the

Table Round,
My brother ? was it earthly passion

crost?"

"Nay," said the knight; "for no

such passion mine.
But the sweet vision of the Holy

Grail
Drove me from all vain glories, rival-
ries,
And earthly heats that spring and

sparkle out
Among us in the jousts, while women

watch
Who wins, who falls; and waste the

spiritual strength
Within us, better ofler'd up to

Heaven."

To whom the monk: "The Holy

Grail! — I trust
We are green in Heaven's eyes; but

here too much
Wc molder — as to things without I

mean —
Yet one of your own knights, a guest

of ours.
Told us of this in our refectory,
But spake with such a sadness and so

low
We heard not half of what he said.

What is it?
The phantom of a cup that comes

and goes? "

"Nay, monk! what phantom?"

answer'd Percivale.
" The cup, the cup itself, from which

our Lord
Drank at the last sad supper with his

own.
This, from the blessed land of Aro-

mat —
After the day of darkness, when the

dead
Went wandering o'er Moriah — the

good saint
Ariniatha?an Joseph, journeying

brought
To Glastonbury, where the winter

thorn
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of

our Lord.
And there awhile it bode; and if a

man
Could touch or see it, he was heal'd

at once.
By faith, of all his ills. But then the

times
Grew to such evil that the holy cup
Was caught away to Heaven, and

disappear'd."

To whom the monk : " From our
old books I know

That Joseph came of old to Glaston-
bury,

And there the heathen Prince, Arvi-
ragus,

Gave him an isle of marsh whereon
to build ;

And there he built with wattles from
the marsh

A little lonely church in days of
yore.

For so they say, these books of ours,
but seem

Mute of this miracle, far as I have
read.

But who first saw the holy thing to-
day?"

THE HOLY GRAIL

"A woman," answer'd Pcrcivale,
" a nun,
And one no further off in hlcod from

me
Than sister; and if ever holy maid
With knees of adoration vore the

stone,
A holy maid; tho' never maiden

glow'd,
But that was in her earher maiden-
hood,
With such a fervent flame of human

love.
Which being rudely blunted,

glanced and shot
Only to holy things; to prayer and

praise
She gave herself, to fast and alms.

And yet,
Nun as she was, the scandal of the

Court,
Sin against Arthur and the Table

Round,
And the strange sound of an adulter-
ous race.
Across the iron grating of her cell
Beat, and she pray'd and fasted all
the more.

That now the Holy Grail would

come again ;
But sin broke out. Ah. Christ, that

It would come.
And heal the world of all their

wickedness!
'O Father!' asked the maiden,

■ might It come
To me by prayer and fasting?'

' Nay,' said he,
' I know not, for thy heart is pure

as snow.'
And so she pray'd and fasted, till

the sun
Shone, and the wind blew, thro' her,

and I thought
She might have risen and floated

when I saw her.

"And he to whom she told her
sins, or what
Her all but utter whiteness held for
sin,

A man well-nigh a hundred winters

old,
Spake often with her of the Holy

Grail,
A legend handed down thro' five or

six.
And each of these a hundred winters

old,
From our Lord's time. And when

King Arthur made
His Table Round, and all men's

hearts became
Clean for a season, surely he had

thought

" For on a day she sent to speak
with me.

And when she came to speak, behold
her eyes

Beyond my knowing of them, beauti-
ful,

Beyond all knowing of them, won-
derful,
Beautiful in the light of holiness.
And O my brother Percivale,' she

said,
'Swe^t brother, I have seen the

Holy Grail:
For, waked at dead of night, I

heard a sound
As of a silver horn from o'er the

hills
Blown, and I thought, " It is not

Arthur s use
To hunt by moonlight;" and the

slender sound
As from a distance beyond distance

grew
Coming upon me — O never harp

nor horn,
Nor aufeht we blow with breath, or

toucli with hand.
Was like that music as it came; and

then

322

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Streani'd thro' my cell a cold and

silver beam,
And down the lon^; beam stole the

Holy Grail,
Rose-red with beatings in it, as if

alive.
Till all the white walls of my cell

were dyed
With rosy colors leaping on the wall:
And then the music faded, and the

Grail
Past, and the beam decay 'd, and trom

the walls
The rosy quiverings died into the

night.
So now the Holy Thing is here again
Among us, brother, fast thou too and

pray,
And tell thy brother knights to fast

and pray,
That so perchance the vision may be

seen
By th''e and those, and all the world

be heal'd.'

" Then leaving the pale nun, I
spake of this

To all men; and myself fasted and
pray'd

Always, and many among us many
a week

Fasted and pray'd even to the utter-
most,

F^xpectant of the wonder that would
be.

" And one there was smong us,

ever moved
Among us in white armor, Galahad.
' Ciod make thee good as thou art

beautiful,'
Said Arthur, when he dubb'd him

knight; and none,
In so young youth, was ever made a

knight
Till Galahad; and this Galahad,

when he heard

My sister's vision, fill'd me with

amaze ;
ilis eyes became so ike her own,

they seem'd
Hers, and himself her brother more

than I.

" Sister or brother none had he;
but some

Call'd him a son of Lancelot, and
some said

Begotten by enchantment — chatter-
ers they.

Like birds of passage piping up and
down,

That gape for flies — we know not
whence they come ;

For when v\as Lancelot wander-
ingly lewd?

" But she, the wan sweet maiden,

shore away
Clean from her forehead all that

wealth of hair
Which made a silken mat-work for

her feet ;
And out of this she plaited broad

and long
A strong sword-belt, and wove with

silver thread
And crimson in the belt a strange

device,
A crimson grail witliin a silver

beam ;
And saw the bright boy-knight, and

bound it on him,
Saying, ' My knight, my love, my

knight of heaven,
O thou, my love, whose love Is one

with mine,
I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind

my belt.
Go forth, fjf thou shalt see what I

have seen'.
And break thro* all, till one will

crown thee king
Far in trie spiritual cit\ ; ' and as she

spake

Till': HOLY GRAIL

3^3

She sent the deathless passion in her
eyes

Thro' him, and made him hers, and
laid her mind

On hi n, and he believed m her be-
lief.

"Then came a year of miracle: O
brother.

In our great hall there stood a va-
cant cFiair,

Fashion'd by .Merlin ere he past
away,

And carvcn with stran;;e fii,'ures;
and in and out

The fiijures, liLe a serpent, ran a
scroll

Ot letters in a tongue no man could
read.

And Merlin call'd it 'The Siege per-
ilous,'

Perilous for good and ill ; ' for there,'
he said,

' No man could sit but he should
lose himself: '

And once by misadvertence Merlin
sat

In his own chair, and so was lost;
but he,

Galahad, when he heard of Merlin's
doom.

Cried, ' If I lose myself, I save my-
self! '

"Then on a summer night it cane

to pass,
While the f;reat banquet lay alcng

the hall,
That Galahad would sit down in

Merlin's chair.

" And all at once, as there we sat,
we heard
A cracking and a riving of the roofs,
And rending, and a blast, and over-
head
Thunder, and in the thunder was a
crv.

And in the blast there smote along

the hall
A beam of light seven times more

clear than day:
And down the long beam stole the

Holy Grail
All over cover'd with a luminous

cloud.
And none might see who bare it, and

it past.
But every knight beheld his fellow's

face
As in a glory, and all the knights

arose,
And staring each at other like dumb

men
Stood, till I found a voice and sware

a vow.

" I sware a vow before them all,

that I,
Because I had not seen the Grail,

would ride
A twelvemonth and a day in quest of

it,
Until I found and saw it, as the

nun
My sister saw it ; and Galahad sware

the vow.
And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's

cousin, sv\are.
And Lancelot sware, and many

among the knights.
And Gawain sware, and louder

than the rest."

Then spake the monk Ambrosius,
asking him,
"What said the King? Did Arthur
take the vow ? "

" Nay, for my lord," said Perci-

vale, " the King,
Was not in hall: for early that same

day.
Scaped thro' a cavern from a bandit

hold,

.124

IDYLLS OF THE KING

An oiitraKcd maiJcn sprang Into the

hall
Cryiruc on help: for iill hrr shininK

hair
Was smrar'd with earth, and either

milky arm
Red-rent wit.i hooks of hramble, and

all she wore
Torn as a sail that leaves the rope

is torn
In tempest: so the Kinu arose and

went
To smoke the scandalous hive of

tllosp wild her-,
That ma<lc such honey in his realm.

How beit
Some 'ittle of this marvel he too

saw,
Returning o'er the plain that then

bcKan
To darken ur..!er Camelot ; whence

the King
Lcok'd up, calling aloud, ' Lo, there!

the roofs
Of our great hall are roll'd in thun-

der-siiKikcl
Pray Heaven, they be not smitten by

the bolt.'
For dear to Arthur wa."- tliat hall of

ours,
As Iiaving there so oft with all his

knights
Feasted, and as the stateliest under

heaven.

" O brother, had you known our
mighty hall,

Which Merlin built for Arthur long
ago!

For all the sacred mount of Came-
lot,

And all the dim rich city, roof by
roof,

Tower after tcwer, spire beyond
spire,

By grove, and garden-lawn, and
rushing brook,

Climbs to the mighty hall that Mer-
lin built.
And four great zones of sculpture,

set betwixt
With many a mystic symbol, gird

the hall:
And in the lowest beasts are slaying

men.
And in the second men are slaying

beasts.
And on the third are wa.riors, per-
fect men,
And on the fourth are men with

growing uings,
And o\er all one statue in the mold
Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a

croun.
And pcak'd wings pointed to the

Northern Star.
And eastward fronts the statue, and

the crown
And both the wings are made of

gold, and flame
At sunrise till the people in far fields.
Wasted so often by the heathen

hordes.
Behold it, crying, ' We have still a

King.'

" And, brother, had you known
our hall within,

Broader and higher than any in all
the lands!

Where twelve great windows blazon
Artliur's wars.

And all the light that falls upon the
board

Streams thro' the twelve great bat-
tles of our King.

Nay, one there is, anj at the eastern
end,

Wealthy with wandering lines of
mount and mere.

Where Arthur finds the brand Ex-
calibur.

And also one to the west, and coun-
ter to it,

THE HOLY GRAIL

And blank: and who shall blazon it?

when and how ? —
O there, penhanip, when all our

wars arc done,
The brand Kxcalibur will be cast

away.

" So to this hall full quickly rode
the Kin^;,
In horror lest the work by Merlin

\v rou^ht,
Drcanilikr, should on the j Iden

vaiilsli, wrapt
Fn unromorspful folds of rolling fire.
And in he rode, and up I glanced,

and saw
The golden dragon sparkling over

all:
And many of those who burnt the

hold, their arms
Hack'd, and their foreheads grimed

with smoke, and sear':-,
Follow'd, and in among bright faces,

ours.
Full of the vision, prest: and then

the King
Spake to me, being nearest, ' Perci-

vale,'
(Because the hall was all in tumult

— some
Vowing, and some protesting), 'what
is this ? '

3»5

" O brother, when I told him what

had chanced.
My sister's vision, and the Test, his

face
Darken'd, as I have seen it more

than once.
When some brav<! deed seem'd to be

done in vain.
Darken ; and ' Woe is me, my

knights,' he cried,
' Had I been here, ye had not sworn

the vow.'
Bold was mine answer, ' Had thyself

been here.

My King, thou wouidst have sworn.'

' Vea, yra,' said he,
' Art thou so bold and hast not seen

the CJrail ? '

Nay, lord. I heard the sound, I

saw the light.
But since I did not sec the Holy

Thing,
I sware a vow to follow it till I

saw.'

" Then when he ask'd us, knight

by knight, if any
Had seen it, all their answers v\ere

as one ;
' Nay, lord, and therefore have we

sworn our vows.'

" ' Lo now,' said Arthur, 'ha\e
ye seen a cloud .•"
What go ye into the wildtrness to
see? '

"Then Galahad on the su' Jen,
and in a voice

Shrilling along the hall 'o Arthur,
call'd,

' But I, Sir Arthur, saw the Holy
Grail,

I saw the Holy Grail and heard a
cry —

"O Galahad, and O Gala.had, fol-
low me." '

" ' Ah, Galahad, Galaliad," said the

King, ' for such
As thou art is the vision, not for

these.
Thy holy nun and thou have seen a

sign ~
Holier is none, my Percivale, than

she —
A sign to maim this Order which I

made.
But ye, that follow but the leader's

bell '

326

IDYLLS OF THE KING

(Brother, the King was hard upon
his knif^hts)

' Talicssin is our fullest throat of
song,

And one hath sung and ail the dumb
will sing.

Lancelot is Lancelot, and hath over-
borne

Five knights at once, and every
younger knight,

Unproven, holds himself as Lance-
lot,

Till overborne by one, he learns —
and ye,

What are ye? Galahads? — no, nor
Percivalcs '

(For thus it pleased the King to
range me close

After Sir Galahad); 'nay,' said he,
' but men

With strength .nd will to right the
wrong'd, of power

To lay the s\idden heads of violence
flat.

Knights that in twelve great battles
splash'd and dyed

The strong Wh'te Horse in his own
heathen blood —

Bdt one hath seen, and all the blind
will see.

Go, since your vcvs are sacred, be-
ing made:

Yet — for ye know the cries of all
my realm

Pass thro' this hall — how often, O
my knights,

Your places being vacant at my
side,

This chance of mble deeds will come
and go

ir.ijhallenged, while ye follow wan-
dering fires

Lost in the quagmire! Many of
you, yea most.

Return no more: }\ think I show
myself

Too dark a prophet: come now, let
us meet

The morroiv morn once more in one

full field
Of gracious pastime, that once more

the King,
Before ye leave him for this Quest,

may count
The yet-unbroken strength of all his

knights,
Rejoicing in that Order which he

made.'

" So when the sun broke next from

under ground,
All the great table of cur Arthur

closed
And clash'd in such a tourney ana so

full,
So many lances broken — never yet
Had Camclot seen i like, since

Arthur came:
And I myself and Galahad, for a

strength
Was in us from the vision, overthrew
So many knights that all the people

cried,
An i almost burst the barriers in

their heat.
Shouting, ' Sir Galahad and Sir Per-

civale ! '

" Tut whrn the next day brake

frc.Ti un.lcr ground —
O brother, had you known our Cam-

elot.
Built by old kings, age after age, so

old
The King himself had fears that it

would fall,
So strange, and rich, and dim ; for

where the roofs
Totter'd toward ench other in the

sky.
Met foreiieads all along the str,;et of

those
Who watch'd us pass ; and lower,

and where the long
Rich galleries, lady-laden, weigh'd

the ni'cks

liiBam

THE HOLY GRAIL

327

Of d«gons clinging to the crazy Came like a driving gloom across my

'"'■'stwirs'of'Ze/r'" """'"' '^''^"""">' -'' ^^^ ^ '>^'' ^PO^cn
r"-i| jnce,

Stride "'''' '"' •"'" *"'' ''°^' ^"'^ ""y '^'l ''^°"gf't I had thought
n- 1- . of old,

swan""' "' ^^^°"' ^"''^"' ^"'^ '^"y ^^'■' '^"'l I ^ver did

At all the' corners, named us each by """"'t^t.T'' ' '''' ^""'''^ "°^

Callinr-God speed!' but in the ^"'^mySlf' "' "''" ''"' ^ ^""""^

TheT„?ghtsTnd ladies wept, and ^'""tho^s'' '" ' '""' °^ '-' ^^^

For grirf, and all in middle street the

Q rn,
Who lode by Lancelot, wail'd and
shriek'd aloud.

And on I rode, and when I
shriek'd aloud, thought my thirst

'This madness has come on us for ^^""'<1 slay me, saw deep lawns
our sins ' and then a brook,

our sins.
So to the Gate of the three Queens
we came,

With one sharp rapid, where the
vve came, crisping white

"vVhere Arthur's wars are render'd ^^^^'^ ^"^ ^^'=^ "Pon the sloping
mvstiVallv wave,

And took both ear and eye; and o'er
the brook

mystically,
And thence departed ivery one his
way.

"And I was lifted up in heart,
and thought

Of all my late-shown prou ess in the

listf I

lists.

How my strong lance had beaten
down the knights,

Were apple-trees, and apples by the

brook
Fallen, and on the lawns. 'I will

rest here,'

said, ' I am not worthy of the

Quest ; '
But even while I drank the brook,
and ate

So map- ..id famous names; and ~, ^^ ^^'

ne\ yet The goodly apples, all these things

Had I ,en appear'd so blue, nor t- 11 *^ °""

earth so green, Fell into dust, and I was left alone,

For all my blood danced in me, and "^""^ thirsting, in a land of sand and

I knew thorns.

That I should light upon the Holy

" And then behold a woman at a

"Tur King!' '^' '^"'^ ""^"'"^ °^ ^"'"{'^^ ^-\ f-- 'he house where-

'^''de'S fire" "°"''^ ^°"°" "^"- ^"' ^^ th^woman's eyes and inno-

328

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And all her bearing gracious; and

she rose
Opening her arms to meet me, as

who should say,
' Rest here ; ' but when I touch'd her,

lol she, too.
Fell into du«t and nothing, and the

house
Became no bettei than a broken

shed.
And in it a dead babe; and also

thir
Fell into dust, and I \\as left alone.

" And on I rode, and greater was

my th'ist.
Then flasii'd a yellow gleam across

the world.
And where it smote the plowshare in

the field,
The plowman left his plowing, and

fell down
Before it; where it glitter'd on her

pail.
The milkmaid left her milking, and

fell down
Before it, and I knew not why, but

thought
' The sun is rising,' tho' the sun had

risen.
Then was I ware of one that on me

moved
In golden armor with a crown of

gold
About a casque all jewels; and his

horse
In golden armor jewel'd everywhere:
And on the splendor came, flashing

me blind ;
And seem'd to me the Lord of all

the world,
Being so huge. But when I thought

he meant
To crush me, moving on me, lo! he,

too,
Open'd his arms to embrace me as

he came,

And up I went and touch'd him, and

he, too,
Fell into dust, and I was left alone
And w earying in a land of sand and

thorns.

■' And I rode on and found a

mighty hill.
And on the top, a city wall'd: the

spires
Prick'd with incredible pinnacles into

heaven.
And by the gateway stirr'd a crowd;

and these
Cried to me climbing, ' Welcome,

Percivale!
Thou mightiest and thou purest

among men! '
And glad was I and clomb, but

found at top
No man, nor any voice. And thence

I past
Far thro' a ruinous city, and I saw
That mar. ' J once dwtit there; but

there I found
Only one man of an exceeding age.
' Where is that goodly company,'

said I,
'That so cried out upon me?' and

he had
Scarce any voice to answer, and yet

gasp'd,
'Whence and what art thou?' and

even as he spoke
Fell into dust, and disappear'd, and

I
Was left alone once more, and cried

in grief,
' Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself
And touch it, it will crumble into

dust.'

" And thence I dropt into a lowly

vale.
Low as the hill was high, and where

the vale
Was lowest, found a chapel, and

thereby

THE HOLY GRAIL

A holy hermit in a hermitage,
To whom I told my phantoms, and
he said :

' O son, thou hast not true hu-
mility,

The highest virtue, mother of them
all;

for when the Lord of all things
made Himself

Naked of glory for His mortal
change,

" T,^^^ *''°" "^y robe," she said,
" for all is thine,"
And all her form shone forth with

sudden light
So that the angels were amazed, and

she
Follow'd Him down, and like a fly-
ing star
Led on the gray-hair'd wisdom of

the east ;
But her thou hast not known: for

what is this
Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and

thy sins?
Thou hast not lost thyself to save

thyself
As Galahad.' When the hermit

made an end,
In silver armor suddenly Galahad

shone
Before us, and against the chapel

door
Laid lance, and entcr'd, and we knelt

in prayer.
And there tiie hermit slaked my

burning thirst,
And at the sacring of the mass I

saw
The holy elements alone; but he,
'Saw ye no more? I, Galahad, saw

the Grail,
The Holy Grail, descend upon the

shrine:
I saw the fiery face as of a child
T.'iat smote itself into the bread, and
went;

329

And hither am I come; and never
yet

Hath what thy sister taught me first

to see.
This Holy Thing, faii'd from my

side, nor come
Cover'd, but moving with me night

and day.
Fainter by day, but alwaj-s in the

night
Blood-red, and sliding down the

blacken'd marsh
Blood-red, and on the naked moun-
tain top
Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere

below
Blood-red. And in the strength of

this I rode,
Shattering all evil customs every-
where.
And past thro' Pagan realms, and

made them mine.
And clash'd with Pagan hordes, and

bore them down.
And broke thro' ^\l, and in the

strength of this
Come victor. But my time is hard

at hand.
And hence I go; and one will crown

me king,
Far in the spiritual city; and come

thou, too.
For thou shalt see the vision when I
go.'

"While thus he spake, his eye,

dwelling on mine.
Drew me, with power upon me, till I

grew
One with him, to believe as he

believed.
Then, when the day began to wane,

we went.

"There .ose a hill that none but
man could climb.
Scarr'd with a hundred wintry
water-courses —

330

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Storm at the top, and when we

Kain'd it, storm
Round us and dcatli ; for every

moment glanced
His silver arms and gloom'd: so

quick and thick
The lightnings here and there to left

and right
Struck, till the dry old trunks about

us, dead,
^'ea, rotten with a hundred years of

death.
Sprang into fire: and at the base we

found
On either hand, as far as eye could

see,
A great black swamp and of an evil

smell.
Part black, part vvhiten'd with the

bones of men.
Not to be crost, save that some

ancient king
Had built a way, where, link'd with

many a bridge,
A thousand piers ran into the great

Sea.
And Galahad fled along them bridge

by bridge.
And every bridge as quickly as he

crost
Sprang into fire and vanish'd, tho' I

yearn'd
To follow; and thrice above him all

the heavens
Open'd and blazed v\ ith thunder

Mich as s>;em'd
Shoutings of all the sons of God :

and first
At once I saw him far on the great

Sea,
In silver-shining armor starry-clear;
And o'er his head the Holy Vessel

hung
Clothed in white samite or a lumi-
nous cloud.
And with exceeding swiftness ran
the boat,

li boat it were — I saw not whence

it came.
And when the heavens open'd and

blazed again
Roaring, i saw him like a silver

star —
And had he set the sail, or had the

boat
Become a living creature clad with

wings?
And o'er his head the Holy Vessel

hung
Redder than any rose, a joy to me.
For now I knew the veil had been

withdrawn.
Then in a moment when they blazed

ag.'.i
Opening, I saw the least of little

stars
Down on the waste, and straight

beyond the star
I saw the spiritual city and all her

spires
And gateways in a glory like one

pearl —
No iTger, tho' the goal of all the

saints —
Strike from the s"a; and from the

star there shot
A rose-red sparkle to the city, and

there
Dwelt, and I knew it was the Holy

Grail,
Which never eyes on earth again

shall see.
Then fell the floods of heaven drown-
ing the deep.
And how ,ny feet recrost the death-

ful ridge
No memory in me lives; but that I

touch'd
The chapel-doors at dawn I know;

and thence
Taking my war-horse from the holy

man.
Glad that no phantom vext me

more, return'd

THE HOLY GRAH.

To whence I came, the gate of
Arthur's wars."

" O brother," aslc'd Ambrosius, —
" for in sooth
These ancient books — and they

would win thee — teem.
Only I find not there this Holy

Grail,
With miracles and marvels like to

these,
Not all unlike; which oftentime I

read.
Who read but on my breviary with

ease,
Till my head swims; and then go

forth and pass
Down to the little thorpe that lies so

close,
And almost plaster'd like a martin's

nest
To these old walls — and mingle

with our folk;
And knowing every honest face of

theirs
As well as ever shepherd knew his

sheep,
And every homely secret in their

hearts,
Delight myself with gossip and old

wives.
And ills and aches, and teethings,

!yings-in.
And mirthful sayings, children of the

place.
That have no meaning half a league

iiway :
Or lulling random squabbles when

they rise,
Chafierings and chatterings at the

market-cross.
Rejoice, small man, in this small

world of mine.
Yea, even in their hens and in their

PRgs —
O brother, saving this Sir Galahad,
Came ye on none but phantoms in
your quest.

33'

No man, no woman ? "

Then Sir Percivale:
All men, to one so bound by
such a vow,
And women were as phantoms. O

my brother,
Why wilt thou shame me to confess

to thee
How far I faltcr'd from my quest

and vow ?
For after I had lain so manv nights,
A bedmate of the snail and' eft and

snake.
In grass and burdock, 1 was changed

to wan
And meager, and the vision had not

come ;
And then I chanced upon a goodly

town
With one great dwellii.j,' in the mid-
dle of it;
Thither I made, and there was I dis-

arm'd
By maidens each as fair as any

flower:
But when they lei me into hall.

behold.
The Princtss of that castle wa.s the

one,
Brother, and that one only, who had

ever
Made my heart leap; for when I

moved of old
A slender page about her father's

hall.
And she a slender maiden, all my

heart
Went alter her with longing: yet we

twain
Had nc ^r kiss'd a kiss, or vow'd a

vow.
And now I came upon her, once

again.
And one had wedded her, and he Mas

dead,
And all his land and wealth and state
were hers.

; J

332

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And while I tarried, ever>- day she
set

A banquet richer tlian the day be-
fore

Hy nie ; for all her longiiij; and her
will

Was toward me as of old; till one
fair morn,

I walking to and fro beside a
stream

That fiaili'd a'-ross her orchard
undPiOeath

Her castle-walls, she stole upon my
walk,

And calling me the greatest of all
knights.

Embraced me, and so kiss'd me the
first time,

And gave herself and all her wealth
to me.

Then I reroember'd Arthur's warn-
ing word,

That most of us would follow wan-
dering fires.

And the Quest faded in my heart.
Anon,

The heads of all her people drew to
me,

With supplication both of knees and
tongue:

'We have heard of thee: thou art
our greatest knight.

Our lady says it. and we well be-
lieve:

Wed thou our Lady, and rule over
us.

And thou shalt be as Arthur in our
land.'

O me, my brother! but one night my
vow

Burnt me within, so that I rose and
fled,

But wail'd and wept, and hated mine
own self,

And ev'n th- Holy Quest, and ah
but her;

Then after I was join'd with Gala-
had

Cared not for her, nor anything upon
c.rth."

Then said the monk, " Poor men,

when yule is cold.
Must be content fo sit by little fires.
And this am I, so that ye care for

me
Ever so little ; yea, and blest be

Heaven
That brought thee here to this poor

house of ours
Where all the brethren are so hard,

to warm
My cold heart with a friend: but O

the pity
To find thine ov/n first love once

more — to hold,
Hold her a wealthy bride within

thine arms.
Or all but hold, and then — cast

her aside,
Foregoing all her sweetness, like a

weed.
For we that want the warmth of

double life,
We that are plagued with dreams of

something sweet
Beyond all sweetness in a life so

rich, —
Ah, blessed Lorii, I speak too earthly-
wise,
Seeing I never stray'd beyond the

cell,
iiut live like an old badger in his

earth,
With earth about him everywhere,

despite
All fast and penance. Saw ye none

beside,
None of your knights? "

"Yea so," said Percivale:
" One night my pathway swerving

east, I saw
The pelican on the casque of our Sir

Bors
All in the middle of the rising moon:

THE HOLY GRAIL

And toward him spurr'd, and haiTd

him, and he me,
And each made joy of either; ti.cn

he a-sk'd,
' Where is he? hast thou seen 'ifm —

Lancelot? — Once,'
Said good Sir Bors, ' ' He dash'd

across me — :nad,
And maddening what he rode: and

when I cried,
" Ridest thou then so hotly on a

quest
So holy," Lancelot shouted, "Stay

me not!
I have been the sluggard, and I ride

apace,
For now there is a lion in the way."
oo vanish 'd.'

222

" The,. Sir Bors hat' ridden on
aottly, and sorrowing for our Lance-
lot,

Because his former madness, once the
talk

And scandal of our table, had re-
turn'd;

For Lancelot's kith and kin so wor-
ship him

That ill to him is ill to them; to
rJors

Beyond the rest: he well had been
content

Not to have seen, so Lancelot might

have seen.
The Holy Cup of healing; and, in-
deed,

Being so clouded with his grief and

love,
Small heart was his after the Holy

Quest:
If God would send the vision, well :

if not,
The Quest and he were in the hands

of Heaven.

"And then, with small adventure
met, Sir Bors

i^ode to the lonest tract of all the
realm,

And fend a people there among

their crags,
Our race and blood a remnant that

wtre left
Paynim amid their circles, and the

stones
They pitch up straight to heaven:

and their wise men
^^ ere strong in that eld magic which

can trace
The wandering of the stars, and

scoff d at him
And this high Quest as at a simple
thmg:

Told him he follow'd- almost

Arthur s words —
A mocking f5re: 'What other fire

than he,
Whereby the blood beats, and the

blossom blov\s.
And the sea roUs, and all the world

IS warm'd? '
And when his answer chafed them
th. -nugh crowd, '

Hearin, he had a difference with

their priests.
Seized him, and bound and plunged

him into a cell
Of great piled stones; and King
bounden there

In darkness thro' innumerable
hours

He heard the hollow-ringing heavens
sweep

Over him till by miracle — what
else ? —

^^*^y ?^ ''t was, a great stone slipt
and fell,

Such as no wind could move: and

thro the gap
Glimmer'd the streaming scui: then

came a nijht
Still as the day was loud ; and thro'

the gap

■^^VM^n'""" ''"" of Arthur's
lable Round —

■*1

334

IDYLLS OF THE KING

For, brother, so one night, because

they roll
Thro' such a round In heaven, we

named the stars,
Rejoicing in ourselves and in our

King —
And these, like bright eyes of famil-
iar friends.
In on him shone: 'And then to me,

to me,'
Said good Sir Bors, ' Beyond all

hopes of mine,
VVho scarce had pray'd or ask'd it

for myself —
Across the seven clear stars — O

grace to me —
In color like the fingers of a hand
Before a burning taper, the s-weet

Grail
Glided and past, and close upon it

peal'd
A sharp quick thunder.' After-
wards, a maid,
Who kept our holy faith among her

kin
In secret, entering, loosed and let

him go."

To whom the monk: 'And I

remember now
That pelican on the casque: Sir

Bors it was
Who spake so low and sadly at our

board ;
And mighty reverent at our grace

was he:
A square-set man and honest; and

his eyes.
An out-door sign of all the warmth

within,
Smiled with his lips — a smile be-
neath a cloud,
But heaven had meant it for a sunny

one:
Aye, aye. Sir Bors, who else? But

w hen ye reach'd
The city, found ye all your knights

return'd,

Or was there sooth in Arthur's

prophecy.
Tell me, and what said each, and

what the King?"

Then answer'd Percivale: "And

that can I,
Brother, and truly; since t' living

words
Of so great men as Lancelot and

our King
Pass not from door to door and out

again,
But sit within the house. O, when

we reach'd
The city, our horses stumbling as

they trode
On heaps of ruin, hornless unicorns,
Crack'd basilisks, and splinter'd

cockatrices,
And shatter'd talbots, which had

left the stones
Raw, that they fell from, brought us

to the hall.

" And there sat Arthur on the

dais-throne.
And those that had gone out upon

the Quest,
Wasted and worn, and but a tithe of

them.
And those that had not, stood before

the King,
Who, when he saw me, rose, and

bade me hail.
Saying, ' A welfare in thine eye re-
proves
Our fear of some disastrous chance

for thee
On hill, or plain, at sea, or flooding

ford.
So fie e a gale made havoc here of

late
Among the strange devices of our

kings ;
Yea, shook this newer, stronger hall

of ours.

THE HOLY GRAIL

And from the statue Merlin molded
for us

Half-wrench'd a golden wing; but
now — the Quest,

This vision — hast thou seen the
Holy Cup,

That Joseph brought of old to Glas-
tonbury? '

" So when I told him all thyself
hast heard,

Ambrosius, and my fresh but fixt
resolve

To pass away into the quiet life,

He answer'd not, but, sharply turn-
ing, ask'd

Of Gawain, ' Gawain, was this
Quest for thee ? '

"'Nay, lord," said Gawain, 'not
for such as I.
Therefore I communed with a

saintly man,
^Vho made me sure the Quest wa3

not for me ;
For I was much awearied of the

Quest :
But found a silk pavilion in a field.
And merry maidens in it; and then

this gale
Tore my pavilion from the tenting-

pin,
And blew my merry maidens all

about
With all discomfort; yea, and but

for this,
My twelvemonth and a day were
pleasant to me.'

" He ceased ; and Arthur turn'd
to whom at first

He saw not, for Sir Bors, en enter-
ing, push'd

Athwart the throng to Lancelot,
caught his hand.

Held it, and there, half-hidden by
him, stood.

22i

I'ntil the King espied him, saying

tr) him,
' Hail, Bors! if ever loyal man and

true
Could^ see it, thou hast seen the

(irail ; ' and Bors,
'AsIc me not, for I may not speak

of it:
I saw it;' and the tears were in his

c)es.

"Then there remain 'd but Lance-
lot, for the rest

Spake but of sundry perils in the
storm ;

Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy
Writ,

Our Arthur kept his best until the

last ;
'Thou, too, my Lancelot,' ask'd the

King, ' my friend,
Our mightiest, hath this Quest

avail'd for thee? '

Our mightiest I ' a n s w e r' d
Lancelot, with a groan ;
'O King!' — and when he paused,

methought I spied

A dying fire of madness in his eyes

'O King, my friend, if friend of

thine I be.
Happier are those that welter in their

sin.
Swine in the mud, that cannot see

for slime,
Slime of the ditch: but in me lived

a sin
So strange, of such a kind, that all

of pure.
Noble, and knightly in me twined

and clung
Round that one sin, until the whole-
some flover
And poisonous grew together, each

as each.
Not to be pluck'd asunder; and

when thy knights

III! I

3i^

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Sware, I svvarc with them only in

the hope
That could 1 touch or see the Holy

Grail
They might be pluck'd asunder.

Then I spake
To one most holy saint, who wept

and said,
That save they could be pluck'd

asunder, all
My quest were but in v.u'n ; to

whom 1 vou 'il
That I would work according; as

he will'd.
And forth I went, and while I

yearn'd and strove
To tear the twain asunder in my

heart,
My madness came upon nie as of

old,
And whipt me into waste fields far

aw ay ;
There was I beaten down by little

men.
Mean knights, to whom the moving

of my sword
And shadow of my spear had been

enow
To scare them from me once; and

then I came
All in my folly to the naked

shore.
Wide flats, where nothing but coarse

grasses grev\- ;
But such a blast, my King, began to

blovv,
So loud a blast along the shore and

sea,
Yc could not hear the waters for the

blast.
The' heapt in mounds and ridges all

the sea
Drove like a cataract, and all the

sand
Swept like a river, and the clouded

heavens
Were shaken with the motion and

the sound.

And blackening in the sea-foam

swa\'d a boat,
Half-swallow'd in it, anchor'd with

a chain ;
And in my madness to mvself I said,
" I will embark and I will hv my-
self.
And in the great sea wash away my

sin."
I burst the chain, I sprang into the

boat.
Seven days I drove along thi- ureary

deep.
And with me drove the moon and all

the stars;
And the wind fell, „iid on the ■-evenrh

night
I heard the shingle grir. ling in the

'urge.
And felt the boat . hock earth, and

Iwjking up.
li -hold, the enchanted towers of Jar-

bonek,
A castle like a rock upon a rock.
With chasm-like portals open to tYc

sea,
And steps that met the breaker!

there was none
Stood near it but a lion on each

side
That kept the entry, an ! the moon

was full.
Then from the boat I leapt, and up

the stairs.
There drew my sword. With sud-
den-flaring manes
'I hose two great beasts rose upright

like a man,
Each gript a shoulder, and I stood

between ;
And, when I would have smitten

them, heard a voice,
"Doubt not, go forward; if thou

doubt, the beasts
Will tear thee piecemeal." Then

with violence
'I'he sword w as dash'd from out my
hand, and fell.

THK HOLY (;RAIL

And up into fhr sourJIn^ hall I That which I saw; but wh,.: I

past

luf I uhing in thr souii.finu hall I
savv,
No hfiich nor tahlr, p.iintiii^' on the

wa.s veii'ii

wal

Or hiflJ of knij;ia only the

rounded moon
Thro' the tall oriel „n the roll ij;

sea.
But always in the quiet hojsc I

h^ard
Clear as a lark, high o'ei me as a

lark,
A sweet voice singing in r' c topmost

tower
To the eastward: up I cllmb'd a

thousand steps
With pain: as in a dream I seemM to

climb
For ever: at the last I reach 'd a

door,
A light was in the crannies at 1 I

heard,
Glory .rid oy and honor to our

Lor..
And to the Hoi Vessel of the

Grail."
Then in my madness 1 essay'd the

door;
It gave; and thro' a stormy glare, i

heat
As from a seventimes-heated furnace,

Blasted and burnt, and blinded as I

was,
With such a fierreness that I

swoon 'd aw,T\- —
O, yet rnethouKi.t I saw the Holy

All pall'd 1 crimson samite, and

around
Great angels, awful shapes, and

wings and eyes.
And but for all my madness and my

sin.
And then my swooning, I had sworn

I saw

And over'd; and this Quest « as not
for me.'

" So speaking, and here ceasing,

Lancelot left
I"he hall long silent, till Sir Gauain

— nay,
Brother, 1 need not t- II thee foolish

wordv,- -
A retkles!, and irreverent km^^ht was

he,
Now bolden'd \<\- the silence of his

King,—
Well. I will tell thee: O King, my

liege,' he said,
' Hath Gawain faii'd in any quest of

thine?
When have I ^tinted stroke In

foughtcn field ?
But as for thine, my good friend Per-

civalc.
Thy holy nun and thoi. have driven

men mad,
■V ea, made our mightiest madder than

our least.
But by mine eyes and by rr'ne ear I
swear,

I will b^ deafer than the blue-eved
cat.

And thrice as blind as anv noonday

owl.
To holy virgins in their ecstasies,
Henceforward.'

"'Deafer,' sal the blameless

, .^'

Gawain, and blinder unto holy

things
Hope not to make thyself by idle

vows,
Being too blind to have desire to see.
But if indeed there came a sign froni

heaven,
Blessed arf Bors, Lancelot an ■ Per-

civale.

338

IDYLLS OF THK KING

For thrsr have srrn aitonliii^; to

thrir sight.
For evrry (irry prophet in old tiiufs,
And all the paired iiiaiirie>\ ot the

bar.i,
When (lod iiiaiie music thro' them,

could but speak
His music by thi- tramework and the

chord ;
And as ye saw it ye have spoken

truth.

"'Nay — but thou errest, Lance-
lot : never >et
Could all of true and noble in knight

and man
Twine round one sin, whatever it

might be,
With such a closeness, but apart

there grew,
Save that he were the swine tliou

spakcsr of,
Some root of knighthood and pure

nobleness;
Whereto sec thou, that it may bear

its flower.

" ' And spake I not too truly, O

my knights?
Was I too dark a prophet when I

said
To those who went upon the Holy

Quest,
That most of them would follow

wandering fires,
Lost in the quagmire? — lost to me

and gone,
And left me gazing at a barren

board,
And a lean Order — scarce rcturn'd

a tithe —
And out of 'hose to whom the vision

came
My greatest hardly will believe he

saw ;
Another hath beheld it afar ofiF,

And leaving liunian wrongs to tight

themscivrs,
Cares but to pavs into the silent life.
And one hath had the vision face to

face.
And now his chair desires him here

in vain.
However they may crown him other-

vv her?.

And some among you held,
that if the King

Had seen the sight he would have
sworn the vow :

Not easily, seeing that the King
must guard

That which he rules, and is but as
the hind

To whom a space of land is given to
plow.

WHio may not wander from the allot-
ted field

Before his work be done; but, be-
ing done,

Let visions of the night or of the day

Come, as they will ; and many a
tiiTie they come.

Until this earth he walks on seems
not earth.

This light that strikes his eyeball is
not light.

This air that smites his forehead is
not air

Rut vision — yea, his very hand and
foot —

In moments when he feels he can-
not die,

And knows himself no vision to him-
self,

Nor the high God a vision, nor that
One

Who rose again : ye have seen what
ye have seen.'

"So spake the King: I knew not
all he meant."

I'KLLKAS AND KTTARRK

339

PEI.LF.AS AND F-.TTARRK

KiNc Arthur made now knijjhts to

fill tlic gap
l.rft by thf Holy (^urst ; anil a.'s he

sat
In hall at olJ Carriron, thr high

doors
VV'rrr softly siindrr'd, and thro'

thrse a youth,
Pr!i<-as and tht swrci smrll of the

fields
Past, and the sunshine came along

with him.

" Make me thy Icnfjjht, because I

know, Sir Kin^,
All that helonjjs to kniKJithood, and

I love."
Such was his cry; for havinu heard

the King
Kad let proclaim a tournament —

the prize
A golden circlet and a knightly

sword,
Full fain had Pelleas for his lady

won
The golden circlet, for himself the

sword :
And there were those who knew him

near the King,
And promised for him: and Arthur

made him knight.

And this new knight, Sir Pelleas
of the isles —

But lately come to his inheritance.

And lord of many a barren isle was
he —

Riding at noon, a day or twain be-
fore.

Across the forest call'd of Dean, to
find

Caerleon and the King, had felt the
sun

Beat like a strong knight on his
helm, and reel'd

Almost to falling from his horse;

but saw
Near him a mound of even-sloping

side,
Whereon a hundreil stately beeches

grew.
And here and there great hollies

under them ;
Hut for a mile all round was open

space,
.And frrn and heath: and slowly

Pellea.s drew
lo that dim day, 'hen binding his

good horse
To a tree, cast himself down; and

as he lay
At random looking over tlie brown

earth
Thro' that green-glooming twilight

of the grove.
It seem'd to Pelleas that the fern

without
Burnt as a living fire of emeralds,
So that his eyes were dazzled look-
ing at it.
Then o'er it crost the dimness of a

cloud
Floating, and once the shadow of a

bird
Flying, and then a fawn; and his

eyes closed.
And since he loved all maidens, but

no maid
In special, half-awake he whisper'd,

"Where?
O where? I love thee, tho' I know

thee not.
For fair thou art and pure as Guin-
evere,
And I will make thee vt ith my spear

and sword
As famous — O my Queen, my

Guinevere,
For I will be thine Arthur when wt
meet."

Suddenly waken'd vith a sound
of talk

.■rJ

340

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And laughter at thL- limit of the

wood,
And glancing thro' the hoary boles,

he saw,
Strange as to some old prophet

might have seem'd
A vision hovering on a s.a of fire,
Damsels in divers colors like the

cloud
Of sunset and sunrise, and all of

them
On horses, and the horses r'chly trapt
Breast-high in that bright line of

br.icken stood :
And all the canisels talk'd con-
fusedly,
And one was pointing this way, ari '

one tliat,
Because the way was lost.

And Pelleas rose,
And loosed his horse, and led him

to the light.
There she that seem'd the chief

amon;^ them said,
" In happ\ time behold our pilot-

s*ar!
Youth, we are damsels-errant, and

we ride,
Arm'd as ye see, to tilt against the

knights
There at Caerleon, but have lost our

way :
To right? to left? straight forward?

back again ?
Which ? tell us quickly ? "

Pelleas gazing thought,

" Is Guinevere herself so beauti-
ful?"

For large her violet eyes look'd, and
her bloom

A rosy dawn kindled in stainless
heavens,

And round her limbs, mature in
womanhood ;

And slender was her hand and small
her shape;

And but for those large eyes, the

haunts of scorn,
She might have seem'd a toy to trifle

with,
And pass and care no more. But

while he gazed
The Hjauty of her flesh abash'd the

boy.
As tho' it were the beauty of her

soul:
For as the base man, judging of the

good.
Puts his own baseness in him by

default
Of will and nature, so did Pelleas

lend
All the young beauty of his own soul

to hers.
Believing her; and when she spake

to himj
Stammer'd, and could not make her

a reply.
For out of the waste islands had he

come.
Where saving his own sisters he had

known
Scarce ary but the women of his

isles,
Rough wives, that laugh'd and

scream'd against the gulls.
Makers of nets, and living from the

sea.

Then with a slow smile turn'd the

lady round
And look'd upon her people; and as

w'r ,
A stone is flung into some sleeping

tarn.
The circle widens till it lip the

marge,
Spread the slow smile thro' all her

company.
Three knights were thereamong;

and they too smiled,
Scorning him; for the lady was

Ettarre,

PELLEAS AND ETTARRE

And she was ?. great lady in her
land.

Again she said, "O wild and of

the woods,
Knowest thou not the tashion cf our

speech ?
Or have the Heavens but given thee

a fair face,
Lacking a tongue ? "

, " O damsel, " answer'd he,

I woke from dreams ; and coming

out of gloom
Was dazzled by the sudden light,

and crave
Pardon : but w ill ye to Caerleon ? I
Go likewise: shall I lead you to the

King? "

" Lead then," she said ; and thro'

the woods they went.
And \yhile they rode, the meaning in

his eyes.
His tenderness of manner, and chaste

awe.

His broken utterances and bashful-

ness.
Were all a burthen to her, and in

her heart
She mutter'd, " I have lighted on a

fool.
Raw, yet so stale ! " But since her

mind was bent
On hearing, after vrumpet blov»n,

her nam;
And title, "Queen of Beauty," in

the lists
Cried — and beholding him so

strong, she thought
That peradventure he will fight for
me.

And win the circlet: therefore flatter'd

him.
Being so gracious, that he well-nigh

deem'd
His « ish by hers was echo'd ; and her

knights

And all her damsels too were

gracious to him.
For she was a great lady.

And when they reach'd

Caerleon, ere they past to lodging,

she, ^'

Taking his hand, "O the strong

^_ hand," she said.

See! look at mine! but wilt thou

fight for me.

And win me this fine circlet. Pel-
leas,
That I may love thee ? "

Then his helpless heart
Leapt, and he cried, "Aye! wilt fhou

if I win ? "
"Aye, that will I," she answer'd, and

she laugh'd.
And straitly nipt the hand, and flung

;t from her;
Then glanced askew at those three

knights of hers,
Till all her ladies laugh'd along with

her.

"O happy world," thought Pel-
leas, " all, meseems.
Are happy; I the happiest cf them

all."
Nor slept that night for pleasure in

his blood.
And green wood-ways, and eyes

among the leaves ;
I'hen being on the morrow knighted.

sware
To love one only. And as he came

away.
The men who met him rounded on

their heels
And wonder'd after him, because his

fact
Shone like the countenance of a

priest of old
Against the flame about a sacrifice

342

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Kindled by fire from lieaven : so glad
was he.

Then Arthur made vast banquets,

and strange knii;hts
From the four winds came in: and

each one sat,
Tho' served with choice from air,

land, stream, and sea,
Oft in mid-banquet measuring with

his eyes
His neiglibor's make and might: and

Pelleas look'd
Noble among the noble, for he

dream'd
His lady loved him, and he knew

himself
Loved of the King: and him his new-
made knight
Worshipt, whose lightest whisper

movi'd him more
Than all the ranged reasons of the

world.

Then blush'd and brake the morn-
ing of the jousts.

And this was call'd " The Tourna-
ment of Youth : "

For Arthur, loving his young knight,
withheld

His older and his mightier from the
lists.

That ''elie;is might obtain his lady's
love,

According to her promise, and re-
main

Lord of the tourney. And Arthur
had the jousts

Down in the flat field bv the shore
of Usk

Holden: the gilded parapets were
crown'd

With faces, and the great tower fiU'd
with eyes

Up to the summit, and the trumpets
blew.

There all day long Sir Pelleas kept
the field

^Vith honor: so by that strong hand

of his
The sword and golden circlet were

achieved.

Then rang the shout his lady

loved : the neat
Of pride and glory fired her face;

her eye
Sparkled ; she caught the circlet from

his lance,
And there before the people crown'd

herself:
So for the last time she was gracious

to him.

Then at Caerleon for a space —

her look
Bright *or all others, cloudier on her

knight —
Linger'd Ettarrc: and seeing Pelleas

droop.
Said Guinevere, " Wr marvel at thee

much,

damsel, wearing this unsunny face
l"o him who won thee glorj- ! "

And she said,
" Had ye not held your Lancelot in

your bower.
My Queen, he had not won."

Whereat the Queen,
As one whose foot is bitten \>y an

ant,
Glanced down upon her, turn'd and

went her way.

But after, wher her damsels, and

herself,
And thooe three knights all set their

faces '•.onie,
Sir Pelleas follow'd. She that saw

him cried,
"Damsels — and yi I should be

shamed to say it —

1 cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him

back
Among yourselves. Would rather
that we had

PELLEAS AND ETTARRE

Some rough old knight who I^new the

worldly way,
Albeit gr'- vlicr than a bear, to ride
Am jest with: take him to you, keep

him off,

And pamper him with papmeat, if ye
will,

Old milky fables of the wolf and

sheep.
Such as the wholesome mothers tell

their boys.
Nay, should ye try him with a merry

one

To find his mettle; good : and if he fly

us.
Small matter! let him." This her

damsels heard.
And mindful of her small and cruel

hand.
They, closing round him thro' the

journey home.
Acted her best, and always from her

side

Restrain'd him with all manner of

device,
So that he could not come to speech

with her.
And when she gain'd her castle, up-

sprang the bridge,
Down rang the grate of hun thro'

the groove.
And he was left alone in open field.

"These be the ways of ladies,"
relleas thought,

"To those who love them, trials of
our faith.

Yea, let her prove me to the utter-
most,

For loyal to the uttermost am I."

So made his moan; and, darkness
falling, sought

A priory not far off, there lodged,
but rose

With morning evn-/ day, and, moist
or dry,

Full-arm'd upon his charger all day
long

343

Sat by the walls, and no one open'd
to him.

And this persistence turn'd her

scorn to wrath.
Then calling her three knights, she

charged them, "Out!
And drive him from the walls."

And out they came.
But Felleas overthrew them as they

dash'd
Against him one by one; and these

return'd,
But still he kept his watch beneath

the wall.

1 hereon her wrath became a hate;

and once,
A week beyond, while walking on

the walls
With her three knights, she pointed

downward, " Look,
He haunts me— I cannot breathe —

besieges me;
Down! strike him! put my hate into

your strokes.
And drive him from mv walls."

And dov\n tlu-y went,
And Pelleas overthrew them one by
one ;

And from the to\v , r above him cried

Lttarre,
" Bind i;im and bring him in."

_ He heard her voice;

1 hen let the strong hand, which had

overthrown
Her minion-knights, bv those he

overthrew
Be bounden straight, and so they

brought him in.

Then when he came before

Lttarre, the sight
Of h(.r rich beauty made him at one

glance
More bondsman in his heart than in

his bonds.

344

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Yet with good cheer he spake,

" Behold me, Lady,
A prisoner, and the wissal of thy

will;
And if thou keep me in thy donjon

here.
Content ani I so that I see thy face
But once a day: for I have sworn

my vows,
And thou hast given thy promise, and

I know
That all these pains are trials of my

faith,
And that thyself, when tiiou hast seen

nu' strain'd
And sifted to the utmost, wilt at

length
Yield me thy love and know me for

thy knight."

Then she began to rail so bitterly,
With all her damsels, he was

stricken mute;
But when she mock'd his vows and

the great King,
Liglited on words: "For pity of

thine own self,
Peace, Lady, peace: is he not thine

and mine? "
" Thou fool," she said, " I never

heard his voice
But long'd to break away. Unbind

him now,
And thrust him out of doors; for save

he be
Fool to the midmost marrow of his

b^ncs,
He will return no more." And

those, her three,
Laugh'd, and unbound, and thrust

him from the gate.

And after this, a week beyond,

again
She call'd them, saying, " There he

V. atchrs yet,
There like a dog before his master's

door!

Kick'd, he returns: do ye not hate

him, ye?
Ye know yourselves: how can ye bide

at peace,
Affronted with his rui-.ome in-
nocence ?
Are ye but creatures of the board and

bed.
No men to strike? Fall on hiii all

at once,
And if ye slay him I reck lot: it ye

fail,
Give ye the slave nine order to be

bound,
Bind him as hereutore, and oring

him in :
It may be ye shall slay him in his

bonds."

She spake; and at her will they

couch'd their spears,
Three against one: and Gauain pass-
ing by.
Hound upon 'solitary adventure, saw
Low down beneath the shadow of

those towers
A villainv , three to one: and thro'

his heart
The fire of honor and all noble deeds
Flash'd, and he call'd, " I strike upon

thy side —
The caitiffs! " " Nay." said Pelleas,

" but forbear ;
He needs no aid who doth his lady's

will."

So Gawain, looking at the villainy
done,

Forbore, but in his heat and eager-
ness

Trembled and quiver'd, as the dog,
w ithheld

A moment from the ve-rnin that he
sees

Before him, shiver"^, ere he springs
and kills.

And Pelleai overthrew them, one to
three ;

And the> rose up, ^d bound, and

I'Tiuigiit him in.
Then first her anger, leaving Pdleas,

b -n d

Full on her knights in many an evil

name
Of craven, weakling, and thrice-
beaten hound :
" Vf. take him, ye tiiat scarce are ,it

to touch,
i-ar Jess to bind, your victor, and

thrust him out,
And let who will please him from

his bonds.
And if he comes again "-_ there *h-

brake short;
And I'flk-us answcr'd, " Lady, for
mdeed

I loved you .-nd I decm'd you beauti-
ful,

I cannot brook to see your beauty

marr d
Thro' evil spite: and if ye We me

not,

I cannot bear to dream vou so for-
sworn:

I had licftr iv were worthy ot my
love,

Than to be loved again of you — fare-
well ;

And tho' ye kill my hope, i.ot yet my

love.
Vex not yoursr'f: ye will not see mc

more."

PELLEAS AND ETTARRE

345

A something - was it nobler thai.

myself? —

Seem'.l my reproach' He is not of

my kind.
He could not love me. did he know

me well.

Nay, let him go — and quickly."

And her knights
Laugh'd nor but thrust him bounden

out of door.

Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed
nim from his bonds,
And flung them o'er the walL and

afterward,
Shaking his hands, as ;rom a lazar's

Faith of my body," he said, " ,.nd

art thou not —
Vea thou art he, whom late our

-Arthur made
Knight of his table; yea and he that

won

The circlet? wherefore hast thou so
ue famed

Thy brotherhood in me and all the
rest,

^* '"^-n^f, ''^'^''^* °" f^« ^ork their
y\ ill I

While thus he spake, she gazed

upon the man
Of princely bearing, tho' in bonds,

and thought,
"Why have I push'd him from me?

this man loves,

^* ^°\\r}^T ^^' >■" fi™ I lovtd not.
Why?

I decm'd him fool? yea, so? or that
in him

And Pellens answer'.l, " O, their
Wills are hers
For whom I won the circlet; and

n- le, hers,
Thus to be bounden, so to see her
face,

Marr'd tho' it be with spite and

mockery now,
Other than when I found her in the

woods ;
And tho' she hath me bounden but in

spite,
^md all to flout me, when thev
bring me in,

Let me be bounden, I shall see her
face ;

Else must I die thro' mine unhappi-
ncss.

346

IDYLLS OF 'IHL Kh\G

And Gawain ansv.er'd kindly tho'

in scorn,
" Why, let n,/ l;idy bind nic if she

will.
And let my huly heat me if she will:
Bvit an she send her delegate to thrall
These fiKhtin^; hantls (jf mine —

Christ kill me thin
But I will slice hini handlcss by the

wrist.
And let my lady sear the stump for

him,
Howl as he may. But iiold me for

your friend:
Come, ye know nothing: here I

pledge my troth,
^'ea, by the honor of the Table

Round,
I will be ieal to thee and work thy

work,
And tame thy jailing princess to thine

hand.
Lend me thine horse and arms, and I

will say
That I have slain thee. She will let

me in
To hear the manner of th\ tight and

fall ;
Then, ulien I come within licr

counsel>, then
From prime to vespers will I chant

thy praise
As prowest knight and truest lover,

more
Than any ha' e sung thee living, till

she long
To have thee back in lusty life

again.
Not to be bound, save by white bonds

and \'a'-m,
Dearer than freedom. Wherefore

nov\- thy ho. .
And armor: let me go; be com-
forted :
Ciive me three days to melt l;er fancy,

and hope
TliP third night hence u ill bring thee

news of gold."

Then Pclleas lent his horse and all

his arms,
Saving the goodly sword, his prize,

and took
Gawain's, and said, " Betray me not,

but help —
Art thou not he whom men call light-

of-love:

" Aye," said Gawain, " for women
be so light."

Then bounded forward to the castle
walls,

A..d raised a bugle hanging from his
neck.

And winded it, and that so music-
ally

That all the old echoes hidden in the
wall

Rang out like hollow woods at hunt-
ing-tide.

Up ran a score of damsels to the

tower;
" Avauni," they cried, " our lady

loves thee not."
Hut Gawain lifting up his vizor said,
" Gaw ain am I, Gaw ain of / rthur's

court,
And I have slain this Pe'leas whom

ye hate:
Ikhold his horse and armor. Open

gates,
And 1 will make you nierr\-."

And down they ran,
Her damsels, crying to thi-lr ladv,

"Lo!
Pelleas is dead — he told us — he

that hath
His horse and armor: will ve let him

in?
He slew him! Gawain, Gawain of

the court,
Sir Gawain — there he waits below

the wall,
Blowing his bugle as who should say

him nay."

PELLKAS AND ETTARRE

And

so, leave given, straight on " One

Rode (

ro open door

cour

' Dtad.

jawain, whom >he greeted ()

tcousl).

by.

rose, a

347

rose to gather by and

ne rose, a rose, t

IS it so?" she a^k'd.

'And

aye," said he,

wear.

o gather and t(

• lit in

name.

dying

cried upon your One rose

rose but one — what otl
had I?

ler rose

' Pity

on him," sh

good knight

e ;iri-,uer

a ile d

not die, —

my rose; a rose tiiat will

les wh(j loves It, — if the
be there."

Worm

But never let me bide one hour at

peace." „

''"^'be'fairenl^'""'''' " ^^ ^"^ thVdoub[, ^^'""' '"'' """"'"''

But I^o"'our7ead man have given " ^^'idJZe". -'""" "'"' '"^
my troth, c , , , "f^"^-

That whom ye loathe, him will I "Yf T '' '" ""'''^ '"" ^"'•

make vou love." ,- ; ., ,

i'.re imdn.ght to her walls, and bound

So those thiee days, aimless about u lu u"*^

the land, ^ ^"'^ ^y ^^^ S^^'^- 'Wide open were

Lost in a d-ubt, Pelleas wandering An,l n^ ^^'"V ,

Waited, untd the third night brought tl^^e "he n. . '' ' '"' '" ''"^'

a moon . , V , , '

With promise of large light on woods ou " luaTr '"' """ ''''''' '"'^ ^''

and ways. „ . '"art

J5catmg, for nothing moved bur his

not w. the night and silent; but a And T t^n shadow. Then he

Of Gawain ever coming and this \ ""« /he court,

lay- ^' *^ '"" -'^"'1 spied not any light in hall or

Which Pelleas had heard sunc i,efore H . ''^i'

the Oueen ^ ^ ?"' '^^^ ''^<^ PO^^^n portal also wide

And seen her sadden listening- ^ ''"T^ '•'*"'' "P ^ slope of garden,

vext his hL'urt, o<: i •

And marr'd his rest — " A worm ''''" ''" ^"*' ''^'^' ^"^ brambles

vvitiiin the rose." a .

And overgrowmg them, went on, ard

■■A„^. l,„ „,„, „„„, „„„ ,„,, H "ZSu l„„h'J bdcv „,e „„1.

" '~;,;rjr ""' ""'^ '™ -•"■ ^.v. "irr. „„,,= ,■,„ . „,„

One rose, a ros^ :hat rlaJdenM P-irrh i^ ""^^-^ ,

and ^ky, ^'-'^ J-^" 'J earth Lame li^^htemng downwaul. and so

One rose, my rose, that sweetei.'d all An,nng Jhe'roLs .n i >

mine air — ^'n nj, me roses, and was lost again.

I cared not for the thorns; the thorns Thenwa, h. : ■

were there. f. " ^^ "e wnre of three pa-

vilions rear'd

.UH

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Above the buslics, Rildcn-peakt : in

one,
Red after revel, droncil her lurdanc

kiii^lits
Slumbering, and their three squires

across their feet :
In one, their malice on the pLuid lip
F"ro/.'n by sweet sleep, four of her

damsels lay :
And in the tliird, the cirrlct of the

jousts
Bound on iiir brou, were Gavvain

and Ettarre.

Back, as a hand that pushes thro'

the leaf
To rind a nest and feels a snake, he

drew :
Back, as a coward slinks from what

he fears
To cope \\ itii, or a traitor proven, or

hound
Beaten, did Pelleas in an utter

shame
Creep with his shadow thro' the

court again.
Fingering at his .vvord-Iiandle until

he stood
There on the castle-bridge once more.

and thought,
" I w ill go bacic, and slay them where

they li?."

And so went back and seeing them

yet in sleep
Said, " Ye, that so dishallow the holy

sleep.
Your sleep is death," and drew the

sword, and thoughr,
"What! slay a sleeping knighr? the

King hath bound
And sworn me to this brotherhood ; "

again,
" Alas that ever a knight should be

so false."
Then turn'd, and so return 'd, and

groaning laid

The naked sword athwart their naked

throats,
There left it, and them sleeping; and

she lay,
The circlet of the tourney round her

blows.
And the sword of the tourney across

her throat.

And forth he past, and mounting
on his horse

Stared at her towers that, larger than
themselves

In their own darkness, throng'd into
the moon.

Then crush'd the saddle with his
thighs, and clench'd

His hands, and madden'd with him-
self and moan'd:

" Would they have risen against me

in their blood
At the last day? I might have an-

svter'd them
Even before high God. O towers so

strong,
H.ige, solid, would that even wh'ie I

ga/.e
The crack of earthquake shivering

to your base
Split you, and Hell burst up your

harlot roofs
Bellowing, and charr'd you thro' and

thro' within.
Black as :he harlot's heart — hollow

a^ a skull!
Let the fierce exst scream thro' your

eyelet-holes,
And whirl the dust of harlots round

and round
In dung r \d nettles! hiss, snake — I

saw him tiicre —
Let the fox bark, !;-t th'* wolf yell.

Who >ells
Here in the still swecl summer night,

but I —
I, the poor Pelleas whom she call'd

her fool ?

PELLEAS AND ETTARRE

Fool, brast — he, she, or 1 ? myself

most fool;
Beast too, as l»tkintc human wit

disgraced,
Dishonor'd all for trial of true

love —
Lovei* ue be all alike: only the

Kinn
Hath made us fools and liars. O

nobli' vows!

great and sane and simple race of

brutes
That own no lust because they t'ave

no law!
For whv should I have loved her to

my shame?

1 loathe her, as I loved her to my

slianit".

I never loved her, 1 but lusted for

her —
Away — ."

349

He dash'd the rowel into his
horse.
And bounded forth and vanlsh'd
thro' the night.

Then she, that felt the cold touch
on her throat,
Awaking knew the sword and turn'd
herself

To Gawain : " Liar, for thou hast not

slain
This Pelleas! here ht stood, and

might have slain
Me and thyself." And he that tells

the tale
Sajs that her ever-veering fancy

turn'd
To Pellcas, as the one true knight on

earth.
And only lover; and thro' her love

her life

Wasted and pined, desiring him in
vain.

But he by wild and wav, for half
the night.

And over hard and soft, striking the

sod
From out the soft, the spark from oflE

the hard,
Rode till the star above the awakening

sun.
Beside that tower where Percivale

«as cow I'd,
Glanced from the ro>y forehead of

the da«n.
For so the words were Hash'd into his

heart
He knew not whence or wherefore:

" O sweet star,
Pure or the virgin forehead of the

dav.n ! "
And there he would have wept, but

felt his eyes
Harder and drier than a fountain
bed

In summer: thither came the village

girls
And linger'd talking, and they come

no more
Till the sweet heavens have fiU'J ,>

frcm the heights
Again with living waters in the

change
Of seasons: hard his eyes; harder

his heart
Seem'd; but so weary were his

limbs, that he,
Gasping, "Of Arthur's hall am I
but here, '

Here let me rest and die," cast him-
self down,
And gulf'd his griefs in inmost sleep-
so la)-.

Till shaken by a dream, that Gawain
fired

The hJl of Merlin, and the morning
star *"

Reel'd in the smoke, brake into flame
and fell.

He woke, and being ware of some
one nigh,

350

IDYLLS OF THE Kh\G

Sent hands upon him, a> to trar hiin,

tr)iiin.
" Falsr! anil I hrlii thcc pure as

Cjuincvrrr."

But I'crcivalt stood near him and

rcplifd,
" Am 1 but false ai Ciuinevcrc is

pure ?
Or art tliou maztvl with dreams? ur

btinn one
Of our trce-spoLcn Table luist not

head
That Lancelot " — there he tlieclt'd

himself and paused.

Then fareil it with Sir Pelleas as

with oil •
Who yets a uound in battle, and the

sw ord
That made it plunt;es thro' the wound

again,
And pricks it deeper: and he shrank

and wail'd,
" Is the 0<"''''i talse? ' and I'ercivale

« as mute.
" Have any ot our Round Table held

their vow 3 .■' "
And I'ercivale mailc answei not a

word.
"Is the Kln^; true?" "The

King!" said I'ercivale.
Why then let men couple at once

v» ith wolves.
What! art thou mad? "

Hut I'ellea>, leaping up.
Ran thro' the doors and vaulted on

his horse
And tied: •^iiiall pity upon his horse

had he,
Or on himself, or any, and when he

met
A cripple, one that held a hand for

alms —
Hunch'd ns he was. and like an old

dv\ arf-elni

'1 hat turns it<> back on the salt blast,

the hoy
Paused not, but overiodc him, shout-
ing, " False,
And taUe with (lawain! " and so Ir''

him bruised
And batter'd, and Hrd on, and hill

and \\ ood
Went ever streaming liy him till the

gloom,
That follows on the turning of the

world,
Darken'd the common path: he

twitch'd the reins.
And made his beast that better knew

it, swerve
Now off it and now on ; but w lien

he ..aw
High up in Heaven the hall that

.Merlin built.
Blackening against the dead-green

stripes of even.
Black nest of rats," he groan'd

" ye build too high."

Not long thereafter from the city

gates
Issueil Sir Lancelot riding airilv,
Warm with a gracious parting from

the Queen,
I'eace at his heart, and gazing at a

star
And marveling what it was: on

whom the bo\',
Across the silent seeded meadow-
grass
Borne, clash'd: and Lancelot, saying.

What name hasl thou
That ridest here so blindly and so

hard ? "
No name, no name," he shouted, " a

scourge am I
To lash the treasons of the Table

Round."
" \'ea, but thy name?" "I have

many names," he cried :
I ;un w ratli and shame and hate ind

evil fame.

'IIIK LAST TOrRNAiMENT 35,

11^^^^ n„ u,n,| 1 ,Ms, ,n Down „„ a bench, hardbrcafh.W.

thcUuccn.'^ ''""^ '■"'\-'''' ','/ l-'n,rl„t. "Aye, my

"i--irst over n,r," ,a„l l.ance'ot "AnVT"' /" '•'"'• .

"Shalt thou pas, ■ '•'""■''»• An.l thou ha.st overthrown him?"

'■'td'^rur"* '"^ ^-^'■- ^'^- ^- pr;:;"pe,.e.. -o
^^^chSairr-'"'-'^- "-«^^^^^ ,

The weary steed of IVll, „ fl„,.„der- So iZ 'rh" ''

ioK flunu '•" \^"" ^«"^t not bale, unfro-

His rider, who tallM out .,om the A f,V7 •' , , .. •

.lark (ield, ^ '^ ^^" ^"™ ''""■' 1 hen. for he

Hut here will I d-scdse it by thv Hur Vll"" I?""/

death." ^ 't ny tny »ut I ellea^ l.fted up .in .-ye so fierce

" "^'J^'lir'il^fhnckM. ■' ,ny will is " rlword ■• '''' ''"'"'^ " ' ''^^^

to be slain,"
And Lancelot, with his heel upon the

fall n.
Rolli„K his eyes, a moment stood

then spake : '

"Rise, weakling; I am Lancelot; say

thy say." '

Sprang from the door into the dark

1 he Queen
LookM hard upon her lover he on

her:

An.l each foresaw the dolorous day
to be: '

And all talk died, as in a crove all
song

Beneath the shadow of some bird of
prey ;

T lien a long silence came upon the
nail,

And Modred thought, •' The time is
hard at hand."

And Lancelot slowly rode his war-
rorse back
To Cameh.t, and Sir Pelleas in brief
while

Caught his unbroken limbs from the

dark field.
And foUow'd to the city. It

chanced that both
Brake^mto hall together, worn and THE LAST TOURNAMENT

'''Z:!Lin::.::r'^'' '-' '^-- O-^^-. ^^^ f-l. whom Cawam

Full uondcringly she irazed on „ , ' ." """"'^

Lancelot ^ ^ "' °" "^^"'m' u^"'^"''"''«''f "^ ^"hur's

So s^return-d. and then on Pelleas. At cI^J ^t^^S'^bove the yellowm.

Who^ ha.^ not greeted her. bnt cast Danf d ilk; a wither, leaf before the

hall.

.1-4

.-/If

MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART

ANSI and ISO lESl CHART No 2!

1.0

I.I

t 2.8 l|||| 2.5

I" lllll 2.0

1.8

'•25 ill 1.4 i 1.6

_J A PPLIED IIVHGE Inc

^—i -'■ t'JL* yj -- "^.t-pei

■-^ lestef, Ne* ''ffk UbC9 USA

;■== 6) 482 - 0300 - Phone

= 6) 288 - 5989 - Fax

252

IDYLLS OF THE KING

And toward hini from the hall, with
harp in hand,

And from the crown thereof ?
carcanet

Of ruby swaying to and fro, the
prize

Of Tristram in the jousts of yester-
day,

Came Tristram, saying, " Why skip
ye so. Sir Fool ? "

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding

once
Far down beneath a winding wall of

rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak

half-dead,
From roots like some black coil of

carven snakes,
Clutch'd at the crag, and started

thro' mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the

tree
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro'

the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag

and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the peril-
ous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her

neck.
And all unscarr'd from beak or talon,

brought
A maiden babe ; which Arthur pitying

took.
Then gave it to his Queen to rear:

the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white

arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly.
And named it Nestling; so forgot

herself
A moment, and her cares; till that

young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with

mortal cold
Past from her ; and in time the carca-
net

V^ext her with plaintive memories of
the child:

So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,

" Take thou the jewels of this dead
innocence,

And make ciit-m, an thou wilt, a tour-
ney-prize."

To whom the King, "Peace to

thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honor after

death.
Following thy will! but, O my

Queen, 1 muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or

zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from

the tarn.
And Lancelot won, methought, for

thee to wear."

" Would rather you had let them
fall," she cried,

" Plunge and be lost — ill-fated as
they were,

A bitterness to me! — ye look
amazed,

Not knowing they were lost as soon
as given —

Slid from my hands, when I was
leaning out

Above the river — that unhappy child

Past in her barge: but rosier luck
will go

With these rich jewels, seeing that
they came

Not from the skeleton of a brother-
slayer,

But the sweet body of a maiden babe.

Perchance — who knows? — the pur-
est of thy knights

May win them for the purest of my
maids,"

She ended, and the cry of a great
joust
With trumpet-blowings ran on all the
ways

THE LAST TOURNAMENT

353

From Camelot in among the fadet'

fields
To furthest towers; and everywhere

the knights
Arm'd for a day of glory before the

King.

But on the hither side of that loud
morn

Into the hall stagger'd, his visage
ribb'd

Fron ear to ear with dogwhip-weals,
his nose

Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one
hand off,

And one with shatter'd fingers dan-
gling lame,

A churl, to whom indignantly the
King,

" My churl, for whom Christ died,
what evil beast

Hath drawn his claws atiiwart thy
face? or fiend?

Man was it who marr'd heaven's im-
age in thee thus? "

Then, sputtering thro' the hedge of

splinter'd teeth.
Yet strangers to the tongue, and with

blunt stump
Pitch-blacken d sawing the air, said

the maim'd churl,

" He took them and he drave them

to his tower —
Some hold he was a table-kiiight of

thine —
A hundred goodly ones — the Red

Knight, he —
Lord, I was tending swine, and the

Red Knight
Brake in upon me and drave them

to his tower ;
And when I call'd upon thy name as

one
That dnest right by gentle and by

churl.

Maim'd me and maul'd, and would

outright have slain.
Save that he sware me to a message,

saying,
' Tell thou the King and all his liars,

tha; I
Have founded my Round Table in

the North,
And whatsoever his own knights have

sworn
My knights have sworn the counter

to it — and say
My tower is full of harlots, like his

court.
But mine are worthier, seeing they

profess
To be none other than themselves —

and say
My knights are all adulterers like his

own.
But mine are truer, seeing they pro-
fess
To be none other; and say his hour

is come,
The heathen are upon him, his long

lance
Broken, and his Excalibur a straw.' "

Then Arthur tum'd to Kay the
seneschal,

" Take thou my churl, and tend him
curiously

Like a king's heir, till all his hurts
be whole.

The heathen — but that ever-climb-
ing wave,

Hurl'd back again so often in empty
foam,

Hath lain for years at rest — and
renegades.

Thieves, bandits, leavings of confu-
sion, whom

The wholesome realm is purged of
otherwhere,

Friends, thro' your manhood and
your fealty, — now

Make their last head like Satan in
the North.

354

IDYLLS OF THE KING

My younger knights, new-made, in

whom your flower
Waits to he solid fruit of golden

deeds.
Move with me toward their quell-
ing, which athicvi'd.
The loneliest ways are safe from

shore to shore.
But thou, Sir Lancelot, sitting in my

place
Enchair'd to-morrow, arbitrate the

field ;
For wherefore shouldst thou care to

mingle with it,
Only to yield my Queen her own

again ?
Speak, Lancelot, thou art silent: is it

well?"

Thereto Sir Lancelot answer'd,

" It is well :
Yet better if the King abide, and

leave
The leading of his younger knights to

me.
Else, for the King has will'd it, it is

well."

Then Arthur rose and Lancelot

follow'd him,
And while they stood without the

doors, the King
Turn'd to him saying, " Is it then so

well ?
Or mine the blaine that oft I seem

as he
Of whom was written, ' A sound is

in his ears ' ?
The foot that loiters, bidden go,—

the glance
That only seems half-loyal to com-
mand, —
A manner somewhat fall'n from

reverence —
Or have I drcani'd the bearing of our

knights
Tells of a manhood ever less and

lower ?

Or whence the fear lest this my
realm, uprear'd.

By noble deeds at one with noble
vows.

P^rom flat confusion and brute vio-
lences.

Reel back into the beast, and be no
more r

He spoke, and taking all his

younger knights,
Down the slope city rode, and

sharply turn'd
North by the gate. In her high

bower the Queen,
Working a tapestry, lifted up her

head,
Watch'd her lord pass, and knew not

that she sigh'd.
Then ran across her memory the

strange rhyme
Of bygone Merlin, " Where is he

who knows?
From the great deep to the great

deep he goes."

But when the morning of a tour-
nament.

By these in earnest these in mockery
call'd

The Tournament of the Dead Inno-
cence,

Brake with a wet wind blowing,
Lancelot,

Round whose sick head all night, like
birds of prey.

The words of Arthur flying shriek'd,
arose.

And down a streetway hung with
folds of pure

White samite, and by fountains run-
ning wine.

Where children sat in white with cups
of gold,

Moved to the lists, and there, with
slow sad steps

Ascending, fiU'd his double-dragon'd
chair.

THE LAST TOURNAiMENT

355

He glanced and saw the stately But newly-enter'd, taller t'lan the

galltnes, rest,

Uainc, uanisel, each thro' worship of And armor'd all in forest green,

tiieir Queen whereon

VVhite-rohed in lienor of the stain- Th '■ tript a hundred tiny silver

les^' child, deer,

And some with scatter'd jewels, like a And wearinj^ but a holly-spray for

bank crest.

Of maiden snow mingled with sparks With ever-scattering berries, and or

of Hre. siiield

He look'd but once, and vail'd his A spear, a harp, a bugle — Tristram

eyes again. — late

From overseas in Brittany return'd,

The sudden trumpet sounded as in And marriage with a princess of that

a dream realm.

To ears but half-awaked, then one Isolt the White — Sir Tristram of

low roll the Woods —

Of autumn thunder, and the jousts Whom Lancelot knew, "lad held

began: sometime with pain

And ever the wind blew, and yellow- His own against him, and now

ing leaf yearn'd to shake

And gloom and gleam, and shower The burthen off his heart in one full

and shorn plume shock

Went down it. Sighing weariedly, With Tristram ev'n to death: his

as one strong hands giipt

Who sits and gazes on a faded fire. And dinted the gilt dragons right and

When all the goodlier guests are past left,

away.
Sat their great umpire, looking o'er

the lists.
He saw the laws that ruled the tour-
nament
Broken, but spake not; once, a

knight ,;ist down
Before his throne of arbitration

cursed
The dead babe and the follies of the

King ;
And once the laces of a helmet

crack 'd.
And show'd him, like a vermin in its

hole,
Modred, a narrow face: anon he

heard
The voice that billow'd round the Not speaking other word than,

barriers roar " Hast thou won?

An ocean-sounding welcome to one Art thou the purest, brother? See,

knight, the hand

Until he groan'd for wrath — so

many of those.
That ware their ladies' colors on the

casque.
Drew from before Sir Tristram to

the bounds,
And there with gibes and flickering

mockeries
Stood, while he mutter'd, " Craven

crests ! O shame !
What faith have these in whom they

sware to love?
The glory of our Round Table is no

more."

So Tristram won, and Lancelot
gave, the gems,

3S6

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Wherewith thou takcst this, is red! "

to u horn
Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot's

languorous mood.
Made answer, "Aye, but wherefore

toss me this
Like a dry bone cast to some hungry

hound ?
Let be thy fair Queen's fantasy.

Strength of heart
And might of limb, but mainly use

and skill.
Are winners in this pastime of our

Kin^.
My hand — belike the lance hath

dript upon it —
No blood of mine, I trow ; but O

chief knight.
Right arm of Arthur in the battle-
field.
Great brother, thou nor I have made

the world ;
Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in

mine."

And Tristram round the gallery
made his horse

Caracole; then bow'd his homage,
bluntly saying,

" F"air damsels, each to him who wor-
ships each

Sole Queen of Beauty and of love, be-
hold

This dav my Queen of Beauty is not
here."

And most of these were mute, some
anger'd, one

Murmuring, "Ail couitesy is dead,"
and one,

" The glory of our Round Table is
no more."

Then fell thick rain, plume drcopt

and mantle clung,
And pettish cries awoke, and the wan

day
Went glooming down in wet and

weariness:

But under hrr black brows a swarthy

one
Laugh'd shrilly, crying, " Praise the

patii'nt saints,
Our one white day of Innocence hath

past,
Tho' somewhat draggled at the skirt.

So be it.
The snowdrop only, flowering thro'

the year,
Would make the world as blank as

Winter-tide.
Come — let us gladden their sad eyes,

our Queen's
And Lancelot's, at this night's so-
lemnity
With all the kindlier colors of the

field."

So dame and damsel glitter'd at the

feast
Variously gay: for he that tells the

tale
Liken'd them, saying, as when an

hour of cold
Falls on the mountain in midsummer

sno\ss.
And all the purple slopes of mountain

floucrs
Pass under white, till the warm hour

returns
With veer of wind, and all are flow-
ers again ;
So dame and damsel cast the simple

white.
And glowing in all colors, the live

grass,
Rose-campion, bluebell, kingcup,

poppy, glanced
About the revels, and with mirth so

loud
Beyond all use, that, half-amazed, the

Quern,
And wroth at Tristram and the law-
less jousts,
Brake up their fports, then slowly to

her bower

THE LAST TOURNAMENT

357

Parted, and in her bosom pain was
lord.

And little Da^onft on the morrow
morn,
High over all the yellou ing Autumn-
tide,
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the

hall.
Then Tristram saying, " Why skip

j-e so, Sir Fool? "
Wheel'd round on either heel, Dag-

I'net replied,
"Belike for lack of wiser company;
Or being fool and seeing too much

wit
Makes the world rotten, why, belike

I skip
To know myself the wisest knight of

all."
" Aye, fool," said Tristram, " but 'tis

eating dry
To dance without a catch, a rounde-
lay
To dance to." Then he twangled

on his harp,
And while he twangled little Dag-

onet stood
Quiet as any water-sodden log
Stay'd in the wandering warble of a

brook ;
But when the twangling ended, skipt

again;
And being ask'd, " Why skipt ye not,

Sir Fool?"
Made answer, " I had liefer twenty

years
Skip to the broken music of my

brains
Than any broken music thou canst

make."
Then Tristram, waiting for the quip

to come.
Good now, what music have I

broken, fool? "
And little Dagonet, skipping, "' Ar-
thur, the King's;

F"or when thou playest that air with
Queen Is(jlt,

Thou makcst broken music with thy
bride,

Her daintier namesake down in Brit-
tany —

And so tiiou breakest Arthur's music,

too."
" Save for that broken music in thy

brains,
Sir F'ool," said Tristrain, " I would

break thy head.
Fool, I came late, the heathen wars

were o'er,
The life had Hown, we sware but by

the shell —
I am but a fool to reason with a

fool —
Come, thou art crabb'd and sour: but

lean me down.
Sir Dagonet, one of thy long asses'

ears.
And harken if my music be not true.

" ' Free love — free field — we love

but while we may:
The woods arc hush'd, their music is

no more:
The leaf is dead, the yearning past

a« ay :
New leaf, new life — the days of frost

are o'er:
New life, new love, to suit the newer

day:
New loves are sweet as those that

went before:
Free love — free field — we love but

while we may.'

" Ye might have moved slow-meas-
ure to my tune,

Not stood stockstill. I made it in the
woods.

And heard it ring as true as tested
gold."

But Dagonet with one foot poised
in his hand,

3S8

IDYLLS OF THE KING

" Friend, did yc iiiarlc tliat fountain

ytsterday
Made to run wine? — but thi-, had

run itself
AJl out like a long life to a sour

end —
And them that round it sat with

golden cups
To hand the wine to whosoever

came —
The twelve small damsels white as

Innocence,
In honor of poor Innocence the

babe,
Who left the gems which Innocence

tlie Queen
Lent to the King, and Innocence the

King
Gave for a prize — and one of those

white slips
Handed her cup and piped, the pretty

one,
' Drink, drink. Sir Fool,' and there-
upon I drank,
Spat — pish — the cup was gold, the
draught was mud."

And Tristram, " Was it muddier

than thy gibes?
Is all the laughter gone dead out of

thee ? —
Not marking how the knighthood

mock thee, fool —
'Fear God: honor the King — his

one true knight —
Sole follower of the vows ' — for here

be they
Who knew thee swine enow before I

came,
Smuttier than blasted grain: but

when the King
Had made thee fool, thy vanity so

shot up
It frighted all free fool from out thy

heart;
Which left thee less than fool, and

less than swine.

A naked aught — yet swine I hold

thee still,
For I have Hung thee pearls and find

thee swine. "

And little Uagonet mincing with

his feet,
"Knight, an )v (ling tho e rubies

round my neck
In lieu of hers, I'll hold thou hast

some tdiich
Of music, since I care not for thy

pearls.
Swine? I have wallow'd, I have

wasii'd — the \\ orld
Is flesh and sh-idow — I have had my

day.
The dirty nurse, Experience, in her

kind
Hath foul'd me — an I wallow'd,

then I waih'd —
I have had my day and mj pliiloso-

phies —
And thank the Lord I am King Ar-
thur's fool.
Swine, say ye? swine, goats, asses,

rams and geese
Troop'd round a I'aynim harper onci-,

who thrumm'd
On such a wire as musically as thou
Some such fine song — but never a

king's fool."

And Tristram, " Then were swine,

goats, asses, geese
The wiser fools, seeing thy Payniiii

bard
Had such a mastery of his mystery
That he could harp his wife up out of

hell."

Tlien Dagonet, turning on the ball

of his toot,
"And whither harp'st thou thine?

(low n ! and thyself
Down! and two more: a helpful

harper thou,

THE LAST TOURNAiMENT

That harpest dowiui ani ! Dost thou

know tlie star
We call the harp of Arthur up in

heaven ? "

And Tristram, " Aye, Sir Fool, for

when our Kin;j
Was victor wcll-nij;h day liy day, the

knights.
Glorying in each new glory, set his

name
High on all hills, and in the signs of

heaven."

And Dagonet answcr'd, " Aye, and

v\hen the land
Was freed, and the Queen false, ye

set yourself
To babble about him, all to show

your wit —
And whether he were King by cour-
tesy.
Or King by right — and so went

iiarping down
The black king's highway, got so far,

and grew
So witty that ye play'd at ducks and

drakes
With Arthur's vows on the great lake

of fire.
Tuwhoo! do ye see it? do ye see the

star?"

" Nay. fool," said Tristram, " not

in open day."
And Dagonct, " Nay, nor will: I see

it and hear.
It makes a silent music up in

heaven.
And I, and Arthur and tlie angels

hear.
And then we skip." " Lo, fool," he

said, "ye talk
Fool's treason: is the King thy

brother fnol ? "
Then little Dagonet clapt his hands

and shriU'd,

359

" Aye, aye, my brother fool, the king

of fools!
Conceits himself as God that he can

make
Figs out of thistles, silk from bristles,

milk
From burning spurge, honey from

hcrnet-conibs,
And men from beasts — Long live

the king of fc Is! "

And down the city Dagonct danced
away ;
But thro' the slowlj-mellowing ave-
nues
And S(dit:iry passes of the wood
Kode Fristram toward L\onnessc and

the ucst.
Before him fled the face of Queen

Isolt
With ruby-circled neck, but ever-
more
Past, as a rustle or twitter in the

wood
.Made dull his inner, keen his outer

ej'e
For all that walk'd, or crept, or

perch 'd, or tlew.
Anon the face, as, when a gust hath

blown,
Unruffiing waters re-collect the

shape
Of one that la them sees himself, re-

turn'd;
But at the slot or fewmets of a deer.
Or ev'n a fall'n feather, vanish'd
again.

So on for all that day from lawn to

lawn
Thro' many a league-long bower he

rode. At length
A lodge of intertwisted beechen-

boughs
Furze-cramm'd, and bracken-rooft,

the which himself
Built for a summer day with Queen

Isolt

360

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Against a shower, Jark in the golden
t;rove

Appcarini;, sent his fancy back, to
where

She liveJ a moon in that low lodge
with him:

Till Mark her lord had past, the Cor-
nish KinK,

With six or seven, when Tristram
was away,

And snatch'd her thence; yet dreading
worse than .-.hame

Her warrior Tristram, spake not any
uord,

But bode his hour, devisinj^ wretched-
ness.

And now that desert lodge to
Tristram lookt
So sweet, tliat halting, in he past, and

sank
Down on a drift of foliage random-
blown ;
But could not rest for musing how to

smooth
And sleek his marriage over to the

Queen.
Perchance in lone Tintagil far from

all
The tonguesters of the court she had

not heard.
But then what folly had sent him

overseas
After she left him lonely here? a

name ?
Was it the name of one in Brittany,
Isolt, the daughter of the King?

" Isolt
Of the white hands " they call'd her;

the sweet name
Allured him first, and then the maid

herself,
Who served him well with those

white hands of hers,
And loved him well, until himself had

thought
He loved her also, wedded easily,

Hut left her ail as easily, and re-

turn'd.
The black-blue Irish hair and Irish

eyes
Had drawn him home — what

marvel ? then he laid
His brows upon the drifted leaf and

dreajn'd.

He seem'd to pace the strand of

Urittany
Between Isolt of Britain and his

bride.
And show'd them both the ruby-
chain, and both
Began to struggle for it, till his

Queen
Griispt it so hard, that all her hand

uas red.
Then cried the Breton, " Look, her

hand is red!
These be no rubies, this is frozen

blood,
And melts within hei hand — her

hand is hot
With ill desires, but this I gave thee,

look.
Is all as cool and white as any

flower "
Follow'd a rush of eagle's wings, and

then
A whimpering of the spirit of the

child,
Because the twain had spoil'd her car-

canet.

He dream'd; but Arthur with a

hundred spears
Rode far, till o'er the illimitable reed,
And many a glancing plash and sal-

lowy isle,
The wide-wing'd sunset of the misty

marsh
Glared on a huge machicolated tower
That stood with open door?, where-

out was '•oH'd
A roar of riot, as from men secure

THE LAST TOURNAMENT

Amid their marshrs, ruffians at tlicir

361

Amoiin their harlot-brulrs, an evil

sonn.
" Lo, thrre," saul one ot Arthur's

youth, for then'.
Hij;h on a ^riiii di .1 I tree before the

toMor,
A Roodly brother of t' r- Table Round
Swung by the neck : and on the

bou^h'* a shield
Showing a shower of blood in a field

noir,
And there beside a horn, inllamed the

knif^hts
At that dishonor done the gilded

spur,
Till each would clash the shield, and

blow the horn.
But Arthur waved them back. Alone

he rode.
Then at the dry harsh roar of the

great horn,
That sent the face of all the marsh

aloft
An ever upward-rushing storm and

cloud
Of shriek and plume, the Red Knight

heard, and all,
Even to tipmost lance and topmost

helm,
In blood-red armor, sallying, howl'd

to the King:

" The teeth of Hell — flay bare
and gnash thee flat! —

Lo! art thou not that ..iiuch-heartcd
King

\V7io fain had dipt free manhood
from the \v orld —

The woman-worshiper? Yea, God's
curse, and I !

Slain was the brother of my para-
mour

By a knight of thine, and I that heard
her whine

And snivel, being eunuch-hearted, too

Sware by the scorpion-worm that

twi-its in hell,
And stings itself (o everla-.tin;; death,
lo hang whatever knight oi thine I

fought
And tuniblrd. Art thou King? —

Ljok to thy life! "

He ended: Arthur knew tiie voice;
the face
Well-nigh was helmet-hidden, and

the name
Went v^andering somewhere darkling

in his mind.
And Arthur deign'd not use of word

or sword,
But let the drunkard, as he stretch'd

from horse
1 o strike him, overbalancing his

bulk,
Down from the causeway heavily to

the swamp
I' all, as the crest of some slow-arch-
ing wave.
Heard in dead night along that table-
shore,
Drops flat, and after the great waters

break
Whitening for half a league, and thin

themselves.
Far over sands marbled with moon

and cloud,
From less and less to nothing; thus

he fell
Head-heavy; then the knights, who

watch'd him, roar'd
And shouted and leapt down upon

the fall'n;
There trampled out his face from be-
ing known.
And sank his head in mire, and

slimed themselves:
Nor heard the King for their own

cries, but sprang
Thro' open doors, and swording right

and left
Men, women, on their sodden faces,
hurl'd

■I

^62

IDYLLS OF THL KLNG

'1 he t.-ltilcs Dvrr .111.1 the w m<>, .uul

lill ,ill the ratters r.in^ v\ itli udiu.ui-

y.-lls
And all tlic pavfmciit strraiuM with

massacrr ;
Then, ctlioiiin yi-11 with yrll, they

tircii the tiiuer,
Whiih halt that autumn ril^jiit, like

tiie live North,
Red-piilsinK up thro' Aliotli and

AK'or,
Made all above it, and a hundred

meres
About it, a< the water Moab saw-
Come round by the 1 ast, and out be-
yond them flush'd
The lonK lo V dune, and lazy-plun-
ging sea.

So all the wa\s were safe from
shore to shore,
But in the heart of Arthur pain was
lord.

Then, out of Tristram waking, the

red dream
Fled w ith a shout, ami tlia' low lodge

rcturn'il,
Mid-forc>t, and the wind among the

boughs.
He whistled his good warhorse left to

graze
Among the forest greens, vaulted

upon him,
And rode beneath an ever-showering

leaf.
Till one lone woman, weeping near a

cross,
Stay'd him. "Why weep ye?"

" Lord," she said, " my man
Hath left me or is dead;" whereon

he thought —
"What, if she hate me now? I

would not this.
Wliat, if she love me still? I would

not that.

1 know not what I woulii " — but

said H) her,
" \ct wee.i not tlmi., h-.t, if thy mate

return,
He find thy favor changed and love

thee not " —
Then pressing day by day thro' Lyon-

nessc
l..ist in a roky liollnu, belling, heanl
The hounds of Mark, and felt the

goodly hounds
■^'elp at his heart, but turning, past

and gain'd
Tintagil, half in sea, and high on

land,
.•\ crown of towers.

Down in a casement sat,
A low sea-sunset glorying round her

hair
.'\nd glossy throated grace, Isolt the

Queen.
And when she heard the feet of Tris-
tram grind
The spiring stone that scaled about

her tower,
p'lusb'd, started, met him at the

doors, and there
Belted his body with her white em-
brace,
Crying aloud, "Not Mark — not

.Mark, my soul!
The footstep flutter'd me at first: not

he:
Catlike thro' his own castle steals my

Mark,
But warrior-wise thou stridest thro'

his halls
Who hates thee, as I him — ev'n to

the death.
My soul, I felt my hatred for my

.Mark
Quicken within me, and knew that

thou wert nigh."
To whom Sir Tristram smiling, " I

am here.
Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not
thine."

lill. LAST TOURNAMENT

3(>3

And drawing somculiat l>.u Lw ,ii,l If prize she « 1 1 . (. :,3l iinr\r! —

!.lie rrpli-'.i, ,i„. ,,,j,j,| ^,.,.^ __

" Can he be v\ri/nt;'.l who lb nut cv'ii 1 lunc, trit-nd ; ami ever since my

his (iwn, craven seeks

Hut save for dread of thic hail beaten To wreck th<r \ lllaino^J^I^ ; but ()

nie,

Scratch'd, bitten, bhnded, marr'd me Wliat dame or damsel have \e kneei'd
yimelunv — Mark ?
♦ What ri^ihts are his that dan- not

Sir Knight,
at dame
to laMt :

strike for then)?
Not lift a hand — not, tho' he fouiiii

me thus!
Hut harken! have ye met him? hence

he went
To-day for three days' hunting — as

he said —
And so returns belike w itliin an liour.

And 'Iristram, " Last to in> Queen

i'aramount,
Mere now to n./ (Jueen l*ar;unount

ol io\e
And loveliness — a>e, lovel.er than

when first
Her li^ht feet fell on our rout;h Lyon-

Mi > , , , n''s^e,

arks v\ay, mv sou! — but eat not c i- i i i i .■

,1 '. , ;, , >SailinK truiii Ireland,

thou with Mark,

Because he hates thee even more than

fears; __ , Softly laugh'd Isolt;

Nor drink: and when thou passest " ^'after nie not, for hath not our

any wood

;;reat Queen

Close vizor, lest an arrow from the •^^>' '^"''' "^ '^-auty trebled?" and he

bush „ said,

Should leave me all alone with Mark " ^''"'^ ^''^^^^Y ''^ her beauty, and thine,

and hcli. thine.

My God, the measure of my hate for ^"'^ ^^ine is more to me — soft, gra-

Mark cious, kind —

Is as the measure of my love for ^^^'^ ^^^en thy Mark is kindled on

thee." thy lips

Most gracious; hut she, haughty, ev'n

So, pluck'd one way by hate and '" him,

one by love, Lancelot; for I have seen him wan

Drain'd of her force, again she sat, enow

and spake ^° make one doubt if ever the great

To Tristrajii, as he knelt before her, Queen

saying. Have yielded him her love."
" O hunter, and O blower of the

„ horn. To whom Isolt,

Harper, and thou hast been a rover, " Ah, then, fals»? hunter and false

t°0' harper, thou

For, ere I mated with my shambling Who brakest thro' the scruple of my

kifiK. bond,
Ye tv^ain had fallen out about the Calling me thy white hind, and say-
bride ing to me
Of one — his name is out of me— That Guinevere had sinn'd against

the prize, the highest.

364

IDYLLS OF THE RING

,And I — mi^yokcd with suth a want

of man —
That I could hardly sin against the

lowest."

He answcr'd, " O my soul, be com-
forted !
If this be sweet, to sin in leaamg-

strings.
If here be comfort, and if ours be sin,
Crown'd warrant had we tor the

crowning sin
That made us happy: but how ye

greet me — fear
And fault and doubt — no word of

that fond tab —
T' V deep heart-yearnings, thy sweet

memories
Of Tristram in that year he was

away."

And, saddening on the sudden,
spake Isolt,

I had forgotten dl in my strong joy

To see thee — yearnings ? — aye ! for,
hour by hour,

Here in the never ended afternoon,

O sweeter than all memories of thee.

Deeper than any yearnings after thee

Seem'd those far-rolling, westward-
smiling seas,

Watch'd from this tower. Isolt of
Britain dash'd

Before Isolt of Brittany on the
strand.

Would that have chill'd her bride-
kiss? Wedded her?

Fought in her father's battles?
wounded there?

The King was all fulfiU'd with grate-
fulness.

And she, my namesake of the hands,
that lieal'd

Thy hurt and heart with unguent and
caress —

Well — can I wish her any huger
wrong

Than having known thee? her, too,

hast thou left
To pine and waste in those sweet

memories.
O were I not my Mark's, by whom

all men
Are noble, I should hate thee more

than love."

And Tristram, fondling her light

hands, replied,
"Grace, Queen, for being loved: she

loved me well.
Did I love her? the name at least I

loved.
Isolt? — I fought his battles, for

Isolt 1
The night was dark; tne true star set.

Isolt 1
The name was ruler of the dark —

Isolt?
Care not for her! patient, and prayer-
ful, meek.
Pale-blooded, she will yield herself to

God."

And Isolt answer'd, " Yea, and
why not I ?

Mine is the larger need, who am not
meek,

Pale-blooded, prayerful. Let me tell
thee now.

Here one black, mute midsummer
night I sat.

Lonely, but musing on thee, wonder-
ing where.

Murmuring a light song I had heard
thee sing.

And once or twice I spake thy name
aloud.

Then flash'd a levin-brand; and neai
mc stood.

In fuming sulphur blue and green, a
fiend —

Mark's way to steal behind one in the
dark —

for there was Mark : ' He has wed-
ded her,' he said,

THE LAST TOURxNAMENT

36s

Not said, but hiss'd it: the i'lis

crown of towers
So shook to such a roar of al the

sky,
That here in utter dark I swoon'd

auay,
And woke again in utter dark, and

cried,
' I will flee hence and give myself to

God '—
And thou wert lying in thy new le-

man's arms."

Then Tristram, ever dallying with
her hand,
" May God be with thee, sweet, when

old and gray.
And past desire ! " a saying that an-
gered her.
JVIaj God be with thee, sweet,
whtn thou art old,
And sweet no more to me ! ' I need

Him now.
For when had Lancelot utter'd aught

so gross
Ev'n to the swineherd's malkin in the

mast?
The greater man, the greater cour-
tesy.
Far other was the Tristram, Arthur's

knight!
But thou, thro' ever harrying thy wild

beasts —
Save that to touch a harp, tiit with a

lance
Becomes thee well — art grown wild

beast thyself.
How darest thou, if lover, push me

even
In fancy from thy side, and set me far
In tlie gray distance, half a life away.
Her to be loved no more ? Unsay it,

unswear !
Flatter me rather, seeing me so weak,
Broken with Mark and hate and soli-
tude,
Thy marriage and mine own, that I
shou' suc«.

Lies like sweet wines: lie to me: I

believe.
Will ye not lie? not swear, as there

ye kneel,
And solemnly m when ye sware to

him.
The man of men, our King — My

God, the power
Was once in vows when men believed

the Kin^!
They lied not then, u ho sware, and

thru' their vows
'I he King prevailing ma^e his

realm : — I say.
Swear to nie thou wilt love me ev'n

when old,
Gray-hair'd, and past desire, and in

despair."

Then Tristram, pacing moodily up
and down,
"Vows! did you keep the vcw you

made to Mark
More than I mine? Lied, say ye?

Nay, but learnt.
The vow that binds too strictly snaps

itself —
My knighthood taught me this — aye,

being snapt —
We run inore counter to the soul

thereof
Than had we never sworn. I swear

no more.
I swore to the great King, and am

forsworn.
For once — ev'n to the height — I

honor'd him.
' Man, is he man at all? ' methought,

when first
I rode from our rough Lyonnesse, and

beheld
That victor of the Payan throned in

hall —
His hair, a sun that ray'd from off a

brow-
Like hill-snow high in heaven, ihe
steel-blue eyes.

366

IDYLLS OF THE KING

The golden beard that clothed his lips

« ith light —
Moreover, that weird legend of his

birth,
With Merlin's mystic babble about

his end
Amazed me; then, his foot was on a

stool
Shaped as a dragon; he seem'd to me

no man.
But Michael trampling Satan; so I

sware.
Being amazed: but this went by —

The vows!
O aye — the wholesome madness of an

hour —
They served their use, their time;

for every knight
Believed himself a greater than him-
self.
And every foUowr eyed him a^ a

God ;
Till he, being lifted up bevond him-
self.
Did mightier deeds than elscwisc he

had done.
And so the realm was made ; but then

their vows —
First mainly thro' that sullying of our

Queen —
Began to gall the knighthood, asking

whence
Had Arthur right to bind them to

himself?
Dropt down from heaven? wash'd up

from out the deep?
They fail'd to trace iiim thro' the

flesh and blood
Of our old kings: whence then? a

doubtful lord
To bind them by inviolable

vows,
Which flesh and blool perforce

would violate:
For feel this arm of mine — the tide

within
Red with free chase and heather-
scented air.

Pulsing full man; can Arthur make

me pure
As any maiden child? lock up my

tongue
From uttering freely what I freely

hear ?
Bind me to one? Tlte wide world

laughs at it.
And worldling of the world am I,

and know
The ptarmigan that whitens ere his

hour
Woos his ow n end ; we are not angels

here
Nor shall be : vows — I am woodman

of the woods.
And hear the garnet-headed yaflfin-

gale
Mock them: my soul, we love but

w bile we may ;
And therefore is my love so large for

thee.
Seeing it is not bounded save by

love."

Here ending, he moved toward her,

and she said,
" Good: an I turn'd away my love for

thee
To someone thrice as courteous as

thyself —
For courtesy wins woman all as well
As valor may, but he that closes both
Is perfect, he is Lancelot — taller

indeed,
Rosier and comelier, thou — but say

I loved
This knightl'est of all knights, and

cast thee back
Thine own small saw, ' We love but

whil." we may,'
Well, then, what ajiswcr?"

He that while she spake,
Mindful of what he brought to adorn

her with,
The jewels, had let one finger lightly

touch

THE LAST TOURNAMENT

367

The warm white apple of her throat,
rcph'cd,

" Press this a little closer, sweet, un-
til —

Come, I am hunger'd and half-an-
ger'd — meat,

Wine, wine — and I will love thee
to the death,

And out beyond into the dream to
come."

Then in the light's last glimmer
Tristram show'd
And swung the ruby carcanet. She

cried,
" The collar of some Order, which

our King
Hath newly founded, all for thee,

my soul,
I-"or thee, to \ield thee grar- beyond

thy peers."

So then, when both were brought

to full accord.
She rose, and set before him all he

wiU'd ;
And after these had comforted the

blood
With meats and wines, and satiated

their hearts —
Now talking of their woodland para-
dise.
The deer, the dews, the fern, the

founts, the lawns;
Now mocking at tlie much ungainli-

ness,
And craven shifts, and long crane

legs of Mark —
Then Tristram laughing caught the

harp, and sang :

"Aye, aye, O aye — the winds

that bend the brier!
A star in heaven, a star within the

mere!
Aye, aye, O aye — a star was my de-
sire.
And one was far apart, and one was

near:
Aye, aye, O aye — the winds that

bow the grass!
And one was water and one star was

fire.
And one will ever shme and one will

pass.
Aye, aye, O aye — the winds that

move the mere."

" Not so, my Queen," he said,
" but the red fruit

Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid-
heaven,

And won by Tristram as a tourney-
prize,

And hither brought by Tristram for
his last

Love-offering and peace-offering unto
thee."

He spoke, he turn'd, then, fling-
ing round her neck,

Claspt it, and cried, " Thine Order,
O my Queen ! "

But, while he bow'd to kiss the jew-
el'd throat,

Out of the dark, just as the lips had
touch'd.

Behind him rose a shadow and a
shriek —

" Mark's way," said Mark, and clove
him thro' the brain.

That night came Arthur home, and

while he climb'd.
All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping

gloom.
The stairway to the hall, and look'd

and saw
The great Queen's bower was dark, —

about his feet
A voice clung sobbing till he ques-

tion'u it,
'■ What art thou ? " and the voice

about his feet

368

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Sent up an answer, sobbing, " I am

tliy fool,
And I shall never make thee smile

again."

GUINEVERE

Queen Guinevere had fled ilie

court, and sat
There in the holy house at Ainu-s-

bury
VVeepinjr, none with her save a little

maid,
A novice: one low ligiit betwixt them

burn'd
Blurr'd by the crecpinj^ mist, for all

aboard,
Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full,
The white mist, like ? face<loth to

the face.
Clung to the dead earth, and the

land was still.

For hither harl she fled, her cause

of flight
Sir Modred; he that like a subtle

beast
Lay couchant with his eyes upon the

throne,
Ready to spring, waiting a chance:

for this
He chill'd the popular praises of the

King
With silent smiles of slow disparage-
ment ;
And tamper'd with the Lords of the

White Horse,
Heathen, the brood by Hengist left;

and sought
To make disruption in the Tabl*"

Round
Of Arthur, and to splinter it into

feuds
Serving his traitorous end ; and all

his aims
Were sharpen'd by stiong hate for

Lancelot.

l'"or thus it chanced one morn when

all the court,
Green-suited, but with plumes that

luockd the may,
Had been, their wot, a-maying and

return'd.
That Modred still in green, all car

and eye,
Climb'd to the high top of the gar-
den-wall
To spy some secret scandal if he

might.
And saw the Queen who sat betwixt

her best
Enid, and lissome Vivien, of her

court
The wiliest and the worst ; and more

than this
He saw not, for Sir Lancelot passing

. ^y

Spied where he couch'J, and as the
gardener's hand

Picks from the colewort a green cater-
pillar.

So from the high wall and the flower-
ing grove

Of grasses Lancelot pluck'd him by
the heel.

And cast him as a worm upon the
way ;

But when he knew the Prince tho'
marr'd with dust,

He, reverencing king's blood in a
bad man.

Made such excuses as he might, and
these

Full knightly without scorn; for in
those days

No knight of Arthur's noblest dealt
in scorn ;

But, if a man were halt or hunch'd,
in him

By those whom God had made fuU-
limb'd and tall,

Scorn was allow'd as part of his de-
fect,

And he was answer'd softly by the
King

■^

GUINEVERE

369

And all his Table. So Sir Lancelot
holp

To raise ttie Prince, who rising t» ice
or thrice

Full sharply smote his knees, ami
smiled, anil uent:

But, ever after, the small violence
lione

Rankled in him and luffled all his
-I'-'.rt,

A; tlie sharp wind that rutEes all day-
Ion «

A little bitter pool about a stone

On the bare coas:

But wlien Sir Lancelot told
This matter to the Queen, at first she

laugh'd
Lightly, to think of Modred's dustv

fall.
Then shudder'd as the village wife

«ho cries
" I shudder, some one steps across my

grave ; "
Then laugh'd again, but faintlier, for

indeed
She half-foresaw that he, the subtle

beast.
Would track her guilt until he found,

and hers
\\''ould be for evermore a name of

scorn.
Henceforward rarely could she front

in hall.
Or elsewhere, Modred's narrow foxy

face,
Heart-hiding smile, and gray persist-
ent eye:
Henceforward too, the Powers that

tend the soul,
To help it from, the death that cannot

die.
And save it even in extremes, began
To vex and plague her. Many a

time for hours,
Beside the piaci ' breathings of the
King,

In the dead night, grim faces came

and went
Before her, or < vague spiritual

fear —
Like to some doubtful noise of creak-
ing doors.
Heard by the watcher in a haunted

house,
That keeps the rust of murder on the

walls —
Held her awake: or if she slept she

dream'd
An awful dream; for then she seem'd

to stand
On some vast plain before a setting

sun,
And from the sun there swiftly made

at her
A ghastly something, and its shadow

flew
Before it, till it touch'd her, and she

turn'd —
When lo! her own, that broadening

from her feet.
And blackening, swallow'd all the

land, and in it
Far cities burnt, and with a cry she

woke.
And all this trouble did not pass but

grew;
Till ev'n the clear face of the guileless

King,
And trustful courtesies of household

life,
Became her bane; and at the last she

said,
" O Lancelot, get thee hence to thine

own land.
For if thou tarry we shall meet

again.
And if we meet again, some evil

chance
Will make the smoldering scandal

break and blaze
Before the people, and our lord the

King."
And Lancelot ever promised, but re-
maiu'd,

370

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Anil still they met aiul met. Again
she said,

" O Lancelot, if thou love ine K''t thee
hence."

And then tiiey were aj^reed upon a
ni^ht

(WHien the good Kin^ should not be
there) to meet

And part for ever. \'ivien, lurking,
heard.

She told Sir Mod red. P;Lssion-pale
they rnet

And greeted. Hands in hands, and
eye to eye

Low on the border of her couch they
sat

Stainmering and staring. It was
their last hour,

A madness of farewells. And Mod-
red brought

His creatures to the basement of the
tower

For testimony; and cr\ing with full
voice

"Traitor, come out, )C are trapt at
hust," aroused

Lancelot, who rushing outward lion-
like

Leapt on him, and hurl'd him head-
long, and he fell

Stunn'd, and his creatures took and
bare him off.

And all was still: then she, " Tlie end
is come.

And I am shamed for ever;" and he
said,

"Mine be the shame; mine \v as the
sin : but rise.

And fly to my strong castle over-
seas:

There will I hide thee, till my life
shall end,

There hold thee with my life against

the world."
She answer'd, " Lancelot, wilt thou

hold me so?
Nay, friend, for we have taken our
farewells.

Would (iod that thou couldst hide

me trom myself!
Aline is the shame, for I was wife,

and thou
Lnwedded: yet rise now, and let us

fly,
For I w ill draw me into sanctuary.
And bide my doom." So Lancelot

got her horse,
Set her thereon, and mounted on his

oun.
And tlien they rode to the divided

way.
There kiss'd, and parted weeping: for

he past,
Love-loyal to the least wish of the

Queen,
Back to his land; but she to Almcs-

bury
Fled all night long by glimmering

waste and weald.
And heard the Spirits of the waste

and weald
Moan as she Hed, or thought she

heard them moan :
And in herself she moan'd " Too

late, too la'.j! "
Till in the cold wind that foreruns

the morn,
A blot in heaven, the Raven, flying

high,
Croak'd, and she thought, " He spies

a field of death ;
For now the Heathen of the North-
ern Sea,
Lured by the crimes and frailties of

the court,
Begin to slay the folk, and spoil the

land."

And when she came to Almesv-'iry
she spake

There to the nuns, and said, " Mine
enemies

Pursue me, but. O pe.aceful Sister-
hood,

Receive, and \'ield me sanctuary, nor
ask

GUINEVERE

371

Her name to whom ye yield it, till Whereat full willingly sang the little

litr time maid.

To tell you:" and her beauty, grace

and power,
Wrought as a cliarni upon them, and

they spared
'I'o aslc it.

" Late, late, so late! and dark the

night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can 'nter

still.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter

now.

" No light had we: for that ,ve do
repent ;

So the stately Queen abode
For many a week, unknown, among

the nuns;
iNor with them mix'd, nor told her And learning this, the bridegroom

name, nor souglit, vvill relent.

Wrapt in her grief, for housel or fur "loo late, too late! ye cannot enter

shrift, now.

Hut communed only v\ ith the litile

maid,
Who pleased her with 1 babbling

heedlessness
Which often lured her from herself;

but now,
This night, a rumor wildly blown

about
Came, that Sir Modred had usurp'd

the realm,
And leagued him with tin- heathen,

wln'le the King
Was waging war on Lancelot: then

she thought,
" With what a hate the people and

the King
Must hate me," and bow'd down

upon her hands
Silent, until the little maid, who

brook'd
No silence, brake it, uttering "Late!

so late!
What hour, I wonder, now?" and

when she drew
No answer, by and by began to hum
An air the nuns had taught her;

" Late, so late! "
Which when she heard, the Queen

look'd up, and said,
" (") maiden, if indeed ve list to sing.

" No light: so late! and dark and

chill the night!
(J let us in, that we may find the

light!
Too late, too late: ye cannot enter

now.

" Have we not heard the bride-
groom is so sweet ?

O let us in, tho' late, to kiss his feet !

No, no, too late! ye cannot enter
now."

So sang the novice, while full pas-
sionately.

Her head upon her hands, remember-
ing

Her thought when first she came,
wept the sad Queen.

Then said the little novice prcttling
to her,

" O pray you, noble lady, weep no
more ;
But let my wo'ds, the words of one so

small,
Who knowing nothing knows but to
nbpv,

Sing, and unbind my heart that 1 may And if I do not there is penance
weep." given —

372

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Comfort your serious; fur they do

not flow
From evil done; ri^lit surf am I of

that,
Who see your tender grace and statc-

liness.
But wei^jh your sorrows w ith our lord

the K.int;'s,
And \ cighini; find them less; for

(joiie is he
To wage grim war against Sir Lance-
lot there,
Round that strong castle where he

holds the Queen ;
And Modrcd whom he left in charge

of all,
The traitor — Ah sweet lady, the

King's grief
For his o\\ n self, and his own Queen,

and realm,
Must needs be thrice as great as any

of ours.
For me, I thank the saints, I am not

great.
For if there ever come a grief to me
I cry my cry in silence, and have

done.
None knows it, and my tears have

brought me good :
But even were the griefs of little ones
As great as those of ;^reat ones, y^t

this grief
Is added to the griefs the great must

bear.
That howsoever much they may de-
sire
Silence, they cannot weep behind a

cloud :
As even here they talk at Almesbury
About the good King and his wicked

Queen,
And were I such a King with such a

Queen,
Well mi<'!it I wish to veil her wicked-
ness,
But were I such a King, it could not

be."

Then to her own sad heart mut-
ter'd tlie Queen,

" Will the child kill me with her in-
nocent talk? "

But openly she answer'd, " Must not

If this false traitor have displaced his

lor.^,
Grieve with the common grief of all

tlie realm? "

" Yea," said the maid, " this is all
woman's grief.

That shf is woman, whose disloyal
life

Hath wrought confusioti in the Table
Round

Which good King Arthur founded,
years ago,

With signs and miracles and wond-
ers, there

At Camelot, ere the coming of the
Queen."

Then thought the Queen within

herself again,

" ' Vill the child kill me with her fool-
ish prate? "

But openly she spake and said to
her,

" O little maid, shut ir ' • nunnery
\\ alls.

What canst thou know of F "ng and
Tables Round,

Or what of signs and wonde s, but
the signs

And simple miracles of thy nun-
nery?"

To whom the little novice garru-
lously,

"Yea, but I know: the land was full
of signs

And wonders ere the coming of the
Queen.

So said my father, and himself was
knight

GUINEVERE 373

Of the great Table — at the founding Flying, for all the land was full of

And rode thereto from Lyonnesse, And when at last he came to Camc-

and he said i^t v^^nc

That as he rode, an hour or .ybe A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-

,. ''f'" hand

Alter the sunset, down the coast, he Swunjj round the lighted lantern of

^, "*"^''" the hall ;

btran^e music, and he paused, and And in the hall itself was such a feast

All V"'"'"f-;'"'7' ^ , As nc-vcr man had drcam'd; for every

All down the lonely coast cf Lyon- knight

nesse.
Each u ith a beacon-star upon his

head.
And with a wild sea-light about his

feet,
He saw them — headland after head-
land flame
Far on into the rich heart of the

west :
And in the light the white mer-

maiden swam,
And strong man-breasted things stood

from the scr,
And sent a deep sea-voice thro' all

the land,
To which the little elves of chasm

and cleft
Made answer, sounding like a distant

horn.
So said my father — yea, and further-
more,
Next morning, while he past the dim-
lit woods.
Himself beheld three spirits mad with

joy
Come dashing down on a tali wayside
fiowcr,

Had uhatsfKver meat he long'd for

served
By hands unseen ; and even as he

said
Down in the cellars merry bloated

things
Shoulder'd the spigot, straddling on

the butts
While the w inc ran : so glad were

spirits and men
Before the coming of the sinful

Queen."

Then spake the Queen and some-
what bitterly,

"Were they so glad? ill prophets
were they all.

Spirits and men: could none of them
foresee,

Not even thy wise father with his
signs

And wcnders, what has fall'n upon
the realm ? "

To whom the novice garrulously
again.

That shook beneath them, as the thi.- " Yea, one, a bard ; of whom my fa-
■i.n. l^ t'^" said,

\Vhen three gray Imnets wrangle for Full manv a noble war-song nad he
the seed: sung

And still at evenings on before his Ev'n in the presence of an enemy's
horse flgpf ■ •'

The flickering fairy-circle wheel'd Between 'the steep cliff and the tom-

and broke (n^ ^.g^.^ .

Flying, and link d again, and wheel'd And many a mvstic lay of life and

and broke d?ath'

374

IDVl.LS OF THE KING

Had chanted on tht- sinoLy inountain-

tops,
VVlicn round him bent the spirits of

the hills
With all fhfir dewy hair hhiun back

like tlamc:
So saiil my father — .itid that night

the hard
Sang Arthur's jjlorious wars, and sanj;

the King
As vM'll-tiigh more than man, and

rail'd at those
Who call'd him the false son of Gor-

lois:
For there was no man knew from

w hem e he came ;
But atter tempest, u hen the long

wave broke
All down the thundering shores of

Hiide and Hos,
There ( ame a day as still as heaven,

and then
They found a naked child upon tlie

sands
Of dark 'I'intagil hy the Cornish

sea ;
And that was Arthur; and they fos-

ter'd him
Till he by miracle was approved

King:
And that his grave should be a m\s-

tcry
From all men, like l-.is birtli; and

could he (ind
A wninan in her uomanliood as great
As he was in his manhood, then, he

sang.
The twain toiiether well might

change the world.
But even in the middle of his song
He faltcr'd, and his hand fell from

the harp,
And pale he turn'd, and reelM, and

would ha\e falFn,
Hut that they sta>'d him up; nor

would he tell
His vision; but what doubt that he

foresaw

'1 his evil work of Lancelot and the
(Jueen? "

'I'hen thought the Queen, " Ivo!
they liave set her on.

Our simple-seeming .Abbess and her
nuns.

To play upon me," and bow 'd her
h<ad nor spake.

Whereat the novice crying, with
chusp'd hands,

Shame on her own garrulit> g,i:ru-
iously.

Said the good nuns would check hei
gadding tongue

Full often, "and, sweet lady, if I
seem

To vex ;ui ear too sad to listen to
me,

I'nmannerly, with prattling atid the
tales

Which my good father told me, check
me too

Nor let ' e shame my father's mem-
ory, one

Of noblest manners, tlio' himself
wouhi say

Sir Lancelot had the noblest; and he
died,

Kill'd in a tilt, c<.me next, fi\e sum-
mers back,

And left me; but of others who re-
main,

And of the two first-famed for cour-
tesy —

And pray you check me if I ask
amiss —

But pray you, which had noblest,
while you moved

Among them, Lancelot or our lord
the King? "

Tlien the pale Queen look'd up and

answer'd her,
" Sir Lancelot, as became a noble

knight,
Was gracious to all ladies, and the

same

GUINKVERE

In oprn battle or the tiltinu-licld
lorbdre hi', uwn advantage, and the

In open battle or the tiltint;(ifla
forbore his own advantaijc, and these
two

Were the most nobly-manncr'd men

<.t all;
For manners arc not idle, but the

fruit
Of loyal nature, and of noble mind."

^ ea," said the maid, " be manners

such fair fruit ?
Then Lancelot's needs niu<t be a

thousarul-fdld
I.f^s noble, beint;, as all rumor runs,
I he most disloyal i end in all the

world."

To which a mournful answer made

the Queen :
" O closed about by narrowing,' nun-
nery-walk,
What knowest thou of the world, and

all its li>:;hts
And sh.idous, all the wealth and all

the woe ?
If ever Lancelot, that most noble

knif^ht,
Were for one hour less noble than

himself.
Pray for_ him that he scape the doom

of (ire.
And ueep for her who drew him to

his doom."

" Yea," said the liftlc novice, " I

pray for both ;
But I should all as soon believe that

his.
Sir Lancelot's, were as noble as the

King's,
As I could think, sweet lady, yours

would be
Such as the\ are, were you the sinful

Queen."

37S

So she, like mar.y another babbler,

hurt
Whom she would soothe, and harm'd

uhere she would heal ;
I'or here a sudden Hush ot wrathful

heat
Fired all the pale face of the Queen,

« ho cried,
" Such as thou art be never maiden

more
lor ever! thou their trnd, set on to

pla^iic
And play upon, and harry me, petty

spy
And traitress." When that storm of

aiij.'er brake
From (juinevere, ue,hasi the maiden

rose.
White as her veil, and stood before

the Queen
As tremulously as foam upon the

beach
Stands in a wind, ready to break and

fly.

And u-lien the Queen had added
" (let thee hence,"

Fled frij,'hted. Then that other left
alone

Sigh'd, and began to gather heart
again.

Saying in herself, " The simple, fear-
ful child

Meant nothing, but my own too-fear-
ful g\iilt.

Simpler than any child, betrays itself.

But help me, heaven, for surely I
repent.

tor what is true repentance but in
thought —

Not ev'n in inmost thought to think
again

The sins that made the past so pleas-
ant to us:

And 1 have sworn never to see him
more,

1 o see hiiii more."

And ev'n in saying this,

376

IDVI.I.S OF rnK KING

Her memory from iil,l habit tit the

iiiiiul
Went slippin,; back vipon the t;.)lilrn

ila>s
In vshich she saw hmi tlr^t, uhen

l.aiuelot came,
Reputi-il tnc bi-it kiii^;ht aii.i 'goodliest

m;ui,
Ajiibassailor, to lead her to hi> Inrd
Arthur, anJ led lur toitli, and tar

ahead
Of hi-> and her retinue moving;, they,
Rapt in sweet talk or livel>, all of

love
And -.port and lilts and pleasure (tor

the tune
Was may time, and as yet no sin uas

dream'd),
Ro<ie under t;r<JVes that look'd a par-
adise
Of blossom, over sheets of hyacinth
Tiiat seeni'd the heavens upbreakirij;

thro' the earth.
And on from hill to hill, and every

day
Heheld at noon in sonic delicious dale
The silk pavdions of Km^; Arthur

raised
For brief repast or afternocjn repose
Hy couriers none before; and on

a^am.
Till yet once more ere set of sun they

saw
The Drapm of the <;reat l'endra^;on-

ship,
That crown'd state pavilion of the

King,
Blaze by the rushing brook or silent
well.

But when the Queen immersed in
such a .ranee.

And moving thro' the past uncon-
sciously,

Came to that p'-'-t vhcre first she
saw the King

Ride tow ard her from tlic city, sigh'd
to find

IKr joi'rney done, glanced at him,

tliou;;lit hiin cold,
llinh, self contain'd, and pa^Monlivs,

not like him,
" Not like my Lancelot" — while she

blooded thui
And urew h.ilt guilty in her thounht>

again,
'1 here rode an armed warrior to the

doors.
A murmuring whisper thro' the nun-

nc!> rail,
i'hen on a sudden a cr> , " 1 he Kiiij;."

She s;it
Stiff-stricken, listening; hui v\hen

armed teet
Thro' the long galUrs from the outer

doors
K;uig coming, prone from oti lur >eat

she fell.
And grovel'd with her face against

the floor:
There \ ith her niilkwhite arnw and

shadowy hair
She made her face a darkne-- trtjiii

the King:
And in the darknes^ heard his armed

feet
I'ause by her; then came silence, then

a voice,
Monotonous and hollow like a

^.jliost's
Denouncing judgment, but tho'

changed, the King's:

" I, lest thou here so low , the child

of one
I honor'd, happy, dead before thy

shame ?
Well is it that no child is born of

thee.
The children born of thee are sword

and (ire,
Red ruin, and the breaking up of

laws,
The craft of kindred and the Godless

hosts

GUINKVhRE

377

Of hrathri) swarming o'er the iS'ortli-

crii Sra ;
Whom 1, whilr yet Sir l.aiKciot, my

ri^'ht arm,
1 he iiut;hncNt of my itm>;hts, ahoiic

with iiir,
Have rvfr)u hi-ic about t'l's laiiil of

Chiist
In twi'lvr urcat battits ruining over-
thrown.
And knowcst tliou new from vvhfiuc

I lonie — f loni limi,
From w.i^in;; bittir uar with him:

and he,
lliat (lid not ^hiin to smite me in

Worse wa\',
Had yet that ^racr of courtrsy in him

left,
He spared to lift his hand against

the Kin^
Who made him knljjht: but many a

itni^ht was slain ;
And many more, ami all bis kith and

kin
Clave to him, and abcxie in iii own

land.
And many more when Mod "d raised

revolt,
Fort^etful of their troth and fealt\-,

clave
To Mod red, and a remnant stays

with me.
And of tliis remnant will I leave a

part.
True men who love me still, for

whom I live.
To t;uard thee in the wild hour com-
ing on.
Lest but a hair of this low head be

harm'd.
Fear not: thou sbalt be j:;uarded till

my death.
Howbeit 1 know, if ancient prof !ic-

cies
Have err'd not, that I march to meet

m\- (io(,m.
Thou hast not made my life so sweet
to me.

1 iiat 1 the KinK should ^;rl•.lll) care

to live ;
I'or thou ''..^.^t spoilt tlie purpose ot

iiiv lite.
lie.ir with me for the hist time while

I show,
l.v'n for thy sake, the sin which thou

hast sinn'd.
For when the Roman left us, and

their law
Relax'd its hold upon us, and the

\\ a\ s
Were fiil'd with rapine, here and

tiiere a deed
Of prowess done redress'd h random

w ronj;.
Hut 1 wa.-. first of all the kit^s who

(I rew
The ktiii;hthof)(l-errant of this realm

and all
The lealins together umler me, their

Head,
In that fair Order of i-iy Table

Round,
A j;lorious company, tlie Hower of

men.
To s(r\e as model for the nii^jhty

world
And be the fair be;;inninK of a time.
I made them lay their hands in mine

and swear
To revir.nce the Kinj;, as if he

wi re
I heir conscienrr. and their conscience

as their kinj:,
To break the Heathen and uphold the

Christ,
Id ride abroad redressing human

wrnnixs.
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to

it,
lo honor his own word as if his

Cjod's,
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity,
1 o love one maiden onl\ cleave to

her.
Anil w( ship her by years of noble
deeds.

378

IDYLLS OF THE KING

Until they won her ; for indeed I

knew
Of no more subtle master under

heaven
Than is the maiden passion for a

maid,
Not only to keep down the base in

man,
But teach high thought, and amiable

words
And courtliness, and the desire of

fame,
^ '\ love of truth, :uid all that makes

a man.
And all this throve before I wedded

thee,
Believing, ' lo mine helpmate, one to

feel
Mv purpose and rejoicing in my

joy.'
Then came thy shameful sin with

Lancelot ;
Then came the sin of Tristram and

Isolt,
Then others, following these my

mightiest knights,
And drawing foul ensample from fair

names,
Sinn'd also, till the loathsome oppo-
site
Of all my heart had destined did

obtain,
And all thro' thee! so that this life

of mine
I guard as God's high gift from

scathe and wrong,
Not greatly care ;o lose; but rather

think
How sad it were for Arthur, should

he live.
To sit once more within his lonely

hall,
And miss the wonted number of my

'•nights,
And miss to hear high talk of noble

deeds
hi in the golden days before thy

sin.

For which of us, who might be left,

could speak
Of the pure heart, nor seem to glance

at thee ?
And in thy bowers of Camelot or of

Usk
Thy shadow still would glide from

room to room,
And I should evermore be vext with

thee
In hanging rolie or vacant ornament.
Or ghostly footfall echoing on the

stair.
For think not, tho' thou wouldst not

love thy lord,
Tiiy lord hast wholly lost his love for

thee,
I am not made of so slight ele-
ments,
^'et must I leave thee, woman, to thy

shan.".
I hold that man the worst of p-'^lic

foes
Who either for his own or children's

sake.
To save his blood from scandal, lets

the wife
\\'hom he knows false, abide and rule

the house :
For being thro' his cowardice allow'J
Her station, taken everj'where for

pure,
She like a new disease, unknown to

men,
Creeps, no precaution used, among

the crowd,
Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes,

and saps
The fealty of our friends, and stirs

the pulse
With devil's leaps, and poisons half

the young.
Worst of the worst were that man he

that reigns!
Better the King's waste hearth and

aching heart
Than thou reseated in thy place of

light,

GUINEVERE

The mockerj' of my people, and their
bane."

379

He paused, and in the pause she
crept an inch

Nearer, and laid her hands about his
feet.

Far off a solitary trumpet blew.

Then waiting by the doors the war-
horse neigh'd

As at a friend's voice, and he spake
again :

" Yet think not that I come to
urge thy crimes,
I did not come to curse thee, Guine-
vere,
I, whose vast pit>' almost makes me

die
To see thee, laying there thy golden

head,
My pride in happier summers, at mv

feet.
The wrath which forced my thoughts

on that fierce law.
The doom of treason and the flaming

death
(When first I learnt thee hidden

here), is past.
The pang — which while I weigh'd

thy heart with one
Too wholly true to dream untruth in

thee.
Made my tears burn — is also past —

in part.
And all is past, the sin is sinn'd,

and I,
Lo! I forgive thee, as Eternal God
Forgives: do thou for thine own soul

the rest.
But how to take last leave of all I

loved ?
O golden hair, with which I used to
play

Not knowing! O imperial-molded

form,
And beauty such as never woman

wore,

Until it came a kingdom's curse with
thee —

I cannot touch thy lips, they are not

mine.
But Lancelot's: nay, they never were

the King's.
I cannot take thy hand; that too is

flesh.
And in the flesh thou hast sinn'd ; and

mine own flesh.
Here looking down on thine polluted,

cries
'I loathe thee:' yet not less, O

Guinevere,
For I was ever virgin save for thee,
iVIy love thro' flesh hath wrought into

my life

So far, that my doom is, I love thee
still.

Let no man dream but that I love

thee still.
Perchance, and so thou purifv' thy

soul.
And so thou lean on our fair father

Christ,
Hereafter in that world where all are

pure
We two may merr before high God,

and thou
Wilt spring to me, and claim me

thine, and know
I am thine husband — not a smaller

soul.
Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave

me that,
I charge thee, my last hope. Now

must I hence.
Thro' the thick night I hear the

trumpet blow:
They summon me their King to lead

mine hosts
Far down to that great battle In tlie

west,
WTiere I must strike against the man

they call
My sister's son — no kin of mine,
who leagues

38o

IDYLLS OF THE KING

With Ix)rds of the White Horse,
heathen, and kniphts,

Traitors — and strike liim dead, aiid
meet niystlf

Death, or I know not wliat mysteri-
ous doom.

And thou remaining; here wilt learn
the event ;

But hither shall I never come a^ain,

Never lie by thy side; see thee no
more —

Farewell

And V* le she grovel'd at his feet,
She ftl'. he Kinj^'s breath wander

o'er her neck,
And in the darkness o'er her fallen

head,
Peiceived the waving of his hands

that blest.

Then, listening till those armed

steps were gone,
Rose the pale Queen, and in her

anguish found
The casement: " pcadventure," so

slie tl'ought,
" If 1 might see his face, and not

be seen."
And lo, he sat on horseback at the

door!
And near him the sad nuns with each

a light
Stood, arul he gave them charge

about the Queen,
To guard and t()^ter her for ever-
more.
And while he spake to these his helm

was lower'd,
To which for crest the golden dragon

clung
Of Britain; so she did not see the

face,
Which then was as an angel's, but

she saw,
Wet with the mists and smitten by

the lights,

The Dragon of the great Pendragon-

ship
Blaze, making all the night a stear

of fire.
And even then he turn'd ; and more

and more
The moony vapor rolling round the

King,
Who seem'd the phantom of a Giant

in it,
Enwound him fold by fold, and made

him gray
.And grayer, till himself became as

mist
Before her, moving ghostlike to his

doom.

Then she stretch'd out her arms

and cried aloud
"Oh Arthur! " there her voice brake

suddenly,
Then — as a stream that spouting

from a cliff
Fails in mid air, but gathering at the

base
Re-makes itself, and flashes down the

vale —
^Vent on in passionate utterance:

" Gone — my lord!
Gone thro' my sin to slay and to be

slain !
And he forgave me, and I could not

speak.
Farewell? I should have answer d

his farewell.
His mercy choked me. Gone, my

lord the King,
My own true lord! how dare I call

him mine?
The shadow of another cleaves to me,
And makes me one pollution : he, the

King,
Call'd me polluted : shall I kill my-
self"?
What help in that? I cannot kill

my sin,

GUINEVERE

If soul be soul; nor can I kill mj-

shanie ;
No, nor by living can I live it

down.
The days will grow to weeks, tiie

weeks to months,
The months will add themselves and

make the years,
The years will roll into tlie centuries.
And nime will ever be a name of

scorn.
I must not dwell on that defeat of

fame.
Let the world be; that is but of

the world;
What else? what hope? I think

there was a hope,
Except he niock'd me when he spake

of hope ;
His hope he call'd it; but he never

mocks,
For mockery is the fume of little

hearts.
And blessed be the King, who hath

forgiven
My wickedness to him, and left me

hope
That in mine own heart I can live

down sin
And be his mate hereafter in the

heavens
Before high God. Ah great and

gentle lord,
Who wast, as is the conscience of a

saint
Among his warring senses, to thy

knights —
To whom my false voluptuous pride,

that took
Full easily all impressions from

below,
Would not look up, or half-despised

the height
To which I would not or I could not

climb —
I thought I could not breathe in that

fine air
That pure severity of perfect light

381

I yearn 'd for warmth and color which

I found
In Lancelot — now I see thee what

thou art.
Thou art the highest and most human

too,

Not Lancelot, nor another. Is there

none
Will tell the King I love him the'

so late?
Now — ere he goes to the great Bat-
tle? none:
Myself must tell him in that purer

life,
But now it were too daring. Ah my

God,
\Vhat might I not have made of thy

fair world.
Had I but loved thy highest creature

here?
It was my duty to have loved the

highest:
It surely was my profit had I known :
It would have been my pleasure had

1 seen.
We needs must love the highest when

we see it.
Not Lancelot, nor another."

„ , Here her hand

Ijraspd, made her vail her eyes: she
look'd and srw

'I he novice, weeping, suppliant, and
said to her,

" Vea, little maid, for am / not for-
given ? "

Then glancing up beheld the holy
nuns

All round her, weeping; and her
heart wa. loosed

Within her, and she wept with these
and said,

"Ve know me then, that wicked
one, who broke
The vast design and purpose of the

King.

382

lUVLLS OF THE Kh\G

shut me round with narrowini;

nunn<"r\-vv;ill>,
Meek, maidens, from the voices try-
ing ' shame.'

1 must not scorn myself: he lovrs

me still.
Let no one dream but that he loves

me still.
So let me, if you do not shudder at

me,
Nor shun tf. call ;iie sister, dwell

\\ ith you ;
Wear black and white, and be a nun

like you,
Fast with your fasts, not feasting

with your feasts;
Grieve with your griefs, not grievinj;

at your joys.
But not rejoicing; mingle with your

rites ;
Pray and be pray'd for; lie before

your shrines;
Do each low office of your holy

house :
Walk your dim cloister, and dis-
tribute dole
To poor sick people, richer in His

eyes
Who ransom'd us and halcr too than

End of " The

And treat their loathsome hurts and

heal mine own ;
And so wea' out in almsilecd .md in

prayer
The somber close of that voluptuous

day,
Which wrought the ruin of my lord

the King."

She said : they took her to them-
selves ; and she
Still hoping, fearing " is it yet too

late?"
Dwelt with them, till in time their

Abbess died.
I'hcn she, for her good deeds and

her pure life,
And for the pov\er of ministration in

her.
And likew ise for the hi^ . rank she

had borne,
Was chosen Abbess, there, an Aiibess,

lived
For three brief years, and there, an

Abbe'.'s, past
To where beyond these voices there

is peace.

Round Table.'

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR,

That story which the bold Sir I?cdi- Who slowly paced among the slum-

vere, bering host.

First made and Litest left of all the Heard in his tent tlie moanings of

knights, tlie King:
Tolii, when the man was no more

" I found Him in the shining of
the stars.
I mark'd Him in the flowering of

His fields,
Hut in His ways with men 1 find
Him not.
For on their march to W"stward, I uaeed His wars, and now I pass

than a voice
In the white winder of his age, to

those
With whom he dwelt, new faces,

other minds.

Bedivere,

d ie.

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

O me! for why is all around us here
As if some lesser god had made the

world,
But had not force to shape it as he

would,
Till the ffigh God hehold it from

beyond,
A:id entt-r it, and make it beautiful?
Or else as if the wor'd were wholly

fair.
But that these eyes of men are dense

and dim.
And have not power to see it as it is:
Perchance, because we see not to the

close ; —
For I, being simple, thought to work

His will.
And have but stricken with the sword

in vain ;
And all whereon I lean'd in wife and

friend
Is traitor to my peace, and all my

realm
Reels back into the beast, and is no

more.
My God, thou hast forgotten me in

my death:
Nay — God my Christ — I pass but
shall not die."

383

And fa'nter onward, like wild birds

that change
Their season in the night and wail

their way
From cloud to cloud, down the long

uind the dre;mi
Shnll'd; but in going mingled with

dim cries
far in the m onlit haze among the

hills,
As of some lonely city sack'd by night
When all is lost, and wife and child

with wail
Pass to new lords; and Arthur woke

and call'd,
"^Vho spake? A dream. O light

upon the wind,
Thine, Gawain, was the voice — are

these dim cries
Thine? or doth all that haunts the

waste and wild
Mourn, knowing it will go alone
with me?"

Then, ere that last weird battle in
the west,
There came on Arthur sleeping,

Gawain kill'd
In Lancelot's war, the ghost of

Gawain blown
Along a wandering wind, and past

his ear
Went shrilling, " Hollow, hollow all

delight!
Hail, King! to-morrow thou shalt

pass away.
Farewell! there is an isle of rest for

thee.
And I am blown along a wandering

wind,
And hollow, hollow, hollow all de-
light."

This heard the bold Sir Bedivere
and spake:
" O me, my King, let pass whatever
will.

Elves, and the harmless glamour of

the field;
But in their stead thy name and glory

cling
To ail high places like a golden

cloud
For ever: but as yet thou shalt not

pass.
Light was Gawain in life, and light

in death
Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the

man;
And care not thou for dreams from

him, but rise —
I hear the steps of Mod red in the

west,
And with him many of thy people,

and kniahts
Once thine, whom thou hast loved,

but grosser grown

384

IDYLLS OF THK KING

Than hcathm, spittlni; ,it tlu-ir vows

and tliff.
Right well HI lu-;iit tl.i, knou tlice

for thf Kinn- ^

Arise, gi> forth and conquer as o.

old."

Then spake King Arthur to Sir
Ik'divere:
■ I ir other is this battle in the west
Whereto we move, than when we

strove in youtli,
And brak'- the petty kint;^, and fou-ht

with Rome,
Or thrust the heathen from the

Roman wall.
And shook him thro' the north. IK

doom is mine
To war against my people and my

knii^hts. ,

\'he kint; who tights his people tiKhts

himself.
And they my knights, who U)ved me

once, the stroke
That strikes them dead is as my death

to me.
\et let us hence, and find or feel a

wav
Thro' this Wind haze, which ever

since 1 saw
One l\ui^ in the dust at Almesbury,
Hath folded in tlie passes of the
world."

Then rosp tlif Kins; and moved his
host bv ni^^ht.

And ever push'd Sir Modred, league
by league.

Back to the sunset bound of Lyon-
nesse —

A land of old uphcaven from the
abyss

By fire, to sink into the abyss again ;

\Vhere fragments of forgotten peo-
ples dwelt.

And the long mountains ended in a
coast

Of ever-shifting sami, and far away
The phantom circle of a moaning sea.
'1 hire the pursuer could pursue no

more,
And he that (led no further By the

King;
And there, that day when the great

light of heavLH
Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling

year.
On the waste sand by the waste sea

they closed.
Nor ever yet had Arthur fought u

tight
Like this last, dim, weird battle of

the west.
A deathwhite mist slept over sand

and sea:
Whereof the chil', to him who

breathed it, drew
Down with his blood, till all his heart

was cold
With formless fear; and ev'n on Ar-
thur fell
Confusion, since he saw not whom he

fought.
For friend anC foe were shadows in

the mist,
And friend slew friend not knowing

whom he slew ;
And some had visions out of golden

youth,
And some belield the faces of old

ghosts
Look in upon the battle; and in the

mist
^Vas many a noble deed, many a base.
And chance an' craft and strength

m single fig. s,
And ever and anon with host to host
Shocks, and the splintering spear, the

hard mail hewn.
Shield-breakings, and the clash of

brands, the crash
Of battleaxes on shatter'd helms, and

shrieks
After the Christ, of those who falling
down

THK PASSING OF ARTHUR

385

Loolc'd up for heaven, and only saw

the mist ;
And sliouts of hi-atht-n arui tin- traitor

kniijhts,
Oaths, insult, filth, and nionstrou-i

blasphemies,
S'veat, writhin^s, an^iii-.h, hihorinj;

of the lunjis
In that close mist, ;ind dyings for the

li^ht,
M(jans of the d> ing, and voices of the

dead.

Last, as by some one deathbed after
wail

Of suffering, silence follows, or thro'
death

Or death-like swoon, thus over all
that shore.

Save for some whisper of the seeth-
ing seas,

A dead hush fell ; but when the dolor-
ous day.

Grew drearier toward twilight fall-
ing, came

A bitter wind, clear from the North,
and blew

The mist aside, and with that wind
the tide

Rose, and the pale King glanced
across the field

Of battle: but no man was moving
there;

Nor any cry of Christian heard
thereon,

Nor yet of heathen ; only the wan
wavt

Brake in among dead faces, to and
fro

Swaying the helpless hands, and up
and down

Tumbling the hollow helmets of the
fallen.

And shiver'd brands that once had
fought with Rom •,

And rolling far along the gloomy
shores

The voice of dajs of ol<l and da)s
to be.

Then >pake King Arthur to Sir

Hedivere,
And whiter than the iiiivt that all day

long
Had held the field of battle wa> the

King:

" Hearest thou this great voice that

shakes the world,
And wastes the narrow realm where-
on we move,
And beats upon the faces r)f the dead,
M) dead, as tho' the) had not died

for me? —
O IJedivere, for on my heart hath

f.drn
Confusion, till I know not \\ hat I

am,
Nor whence I am, nor whether 1 be

King.
HehoKl, 1 seem but King among the

dead."

1 hen spake the bold Sir Bedivere:

" My King,
King everywhere! and so the dead

have kings.
There also will I worship thee as

King,
■^et still thy life i-: whole, and still I

live
Who love thee; but who hates thee,

he that brought
The heathen back among us, yonder

stands,
Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of

thine house,"

Then spake the King: " Aly house

hath been my doom.
But call not thou this traitor of my

house
Who iiath but dwelt beneath one loof

with me.

386

IDYLLS OF THE KL\G

My lioiisr arr ratlicr they who suare

my v<nvs,
Yea, even wliile they hrakf tlicni,

own J lup K-liii;.
And well tor th'T, s.ninn in my ilark.

hovir,
Wlitfi all the inirp(jrt of my throne

hath tail'tl,
That iiimk or ilcai! thou hoKii-st me

tor Kin^.
Kini^ am I, whatsoever he their cry;
And one hist act of kin^;hoocl shall

thou sec
Vet, ere I pass." And utterin;; this

the K.ii\i;
Made at the man: then Modred

smote his liege
Hard on that helm which many a

lieathen sword
Had beaten thin; while Arthur at one

blou ,
Striking the last stroke with Lxcali-

hu r,
Slew him, and all but slain himself,

he fell.

So nil day long the noise of battle

roU'd
AmoiiK the mountains by the winter

sea;
Until King Arthur's Table, man by

man,
Had fall'n in Lvonnesse about their

lord,
King Arthur. Then, beca\ise his

wound was deep.
The bold Sir Rcdi-.'erc uplifted him,
And bore him to a chapel nigh the

field,
A broken chancel with a broken cross,
That stood on a dark strait of barren

land :
On one side lay the Ocean, and on

one
Lay a great water, and th.e tnoon was

full.

'I'hen spake King .Arthur to Sir

Hediver'' :
" 1 he sequel ol to-dav unsolders all
The goodliest fellowship ot famous

knights
VVhereot this world holds reiord.

Such a sleep
They sleep — the men I loved. I

think that we
Shall never more, at am future time.
Delight our souls with talk of

knighlls dc-eds,
Walking about the gardens and the

h.dls
( )f Camelot, as in the days that were.
I perish by this peopli- which I

made, —
Tho' Merlin sw are that 1 shf)ulJ

come agaiii
To rule once more ; but, let what will

be, be,
I am >o deeply smitten thro' the helm
That without help I cannot last till

morn.
Thou therefore take my brand Ex-

calibur,
Which was my pride: for thou re-

mcnd)erest how
In those old days, one summer noon,

an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the

lake.
Clothed in white samite, m\stic, won-
derful.
Holding the sword — and how I

rowM across
And took it, and have worn it, like

a king;
And, wheresoever I am sung or told
In aftertime, this also shall be known:
Hut now delay not: take Excalibur,
And fling him far into the middle

mere:
Watch what thou seest, and lightly

bring me word."

Tc him replied the bold Sir Bedi-
vere:

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

387

" It is not meft, Sir Kina, to leave

tlif- thus,
Aidlr-is, alone, and smitten tliro' the

helm —
A little thin;; may harm a wouiulcil

man ;
Yet I thy hrst will all prrtumi at

full.
Watch what I set-, ami lijjhtly bring

thee wonl.'

S(i ^a^i^^;, from the niin'ii shrine

he stept
And in the mcjon athuarr the place

fjf ti)mhs,
Where lay the miglitv bones of an-
cient men,
Old kninhts, and o\er them the s;-a-

wind sang
Shrill, ihiil, with flakes of foam.

He, stepping dou n
Hy zig^aK paths, and juts of pnitited

rock,
Came on the shining levels of the

lake.

There drew he forth the brand Tx-
calibur.

And o'er him, drawing it, the winter
moon,

Brightening the skirts of a long
cloud, ran forth

And sparkled keen with frost against
the hilt:

For all the haft twinkled with dia-
mond sparks.

Myriads of t(ipa/-lights, and jacinth-
work

Of subtlest jewelry. He gazed so
long

That both his eyes were dazzled as
he stood.

This way and that dividing the swift
mind,

In act to thrnw: but at the last it
scem'd

Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd

I lierc in the many-knotted water-
flags.

That vdiistled stiff and dry ab<jut the

margr-.
So strode he back slow to the

uoundid King.

'J'hen spake King Arthur to Sir

Bedivere:
" Hast thou perform'd mv mission

which I gave?
\V hat is it thou hast seen ? or what

hast heard? "

And answer made the bold Sii

Bedivere:
" I heard the ripple v\ aslu'ng in the

reeds,
And the wild water lapping 011 the

crag."

To whom replied King Arthur,

faint and pale:
" Thou hast bctray'd thy nature and

t'ly name.
Not rendering true answer, as be-

seem'd
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight:
For surer sign had fnllow'd, either

hand.
Or voice, or else a motion of the

mere.
Tin's is a shameful thing for men to

lie.
"V'et no\y, I charge thee, quickly go

again.
As thou art lief ana dear, and do

the thing
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring

me word."

Then went Sir Bedivere the sec-
ond time

Across the ridge, and paced beside
the mere.

Counting the dew^ pebbles, fi.v'd in
thought;

388

iUVi.!-S OF 111.'. KING

But when he saw the uon.lrr nt the

hilt,
How ciirioiiNly ;iiicl ^tiaiind) ih.iM'l,

he stunt'
His palms tiincttirr, ami lit cried

aloud :

"And if iii.li-eil I ^a^t the hr.md

au ay,
Surely a priiinM-. tiling, one ivorthy

note,
Should thus he Inst tdrcvir friini tlie

eatlh.
Which niinht liavc plc.:s(d tli<' eyes

of many men.
What K"0'1 should iollow this, it

this were done?
What harm, undone ' 1 )eei) harm

to (liMibev,
Seeing obeilieme is the bond ot rule.
Were it uell to nhey tlitti, il a kini;

demand
An act unprofitable, .i;;ainst him-
self?
The Kin",: is siik. and Iciious not

what he dies.
^^'hat neon' - v\liat relic of mv

lord
Should be to aftertime, but empt\

breath
And rumors of a doubt? Hut were

this kept.
Stored in some treasure-luiuse of

inighty kinps.
Some one nu'ght sho\\' it at a joust

of arms,
Sayinj:, ' Kin^ Arthur's sword, l.\-

calibur,
Wri)uj;ht by the lonelv maiden of the

Lake.
Nine years she \\rnu;jlit it, sitting in

the deeps
Upon the hidden bases of the lulls.'
So might some old man speak in the

aftertime
To all the people, uinnin;; reverence.
But now much honor and much

fame were lost."

^o spake he, clouded with his own

cotiieit,
.And hid K\ i.libur the second time,
And so strode back jlow to the

bounded King.

1 hen spoke KinR Arthur, breath
ini; heavily:
" What is it thou hast seen? or what
h.tst heard ? "

And answer made the bold Sir

Hedivere :
I heard the water lapping on tlic
cratr.
And the bint: ripple washinj; in the
reeds."

'I'o whom replied Kint; Arthur,

much in w rath :
.Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue,
I nknitihtlv, traitor-hearted! Woe is

me!
.\utliorit\' for^^cts a dvin;.; king,
I aid widow 'd of the power in his

eye
That bow'd the will. I see thee

M hat th<>n .\''.
lor thou, the latest-left of all my

kniu'lits.
In whom should meet the offices of

all.
Thou woiildst betray me for the

precious hilt;
I'.itlier from lust of gold, or like a

girl
\ aluini: the giddy pleasure of tlic

e\es.
'^'et, for a man ma\' fail in duty

tw ice,
.And the third time ma\- prosper, get

thee hence :
But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur,
I will arise and slay thee with my

hands."

'I'b.en cpiickly rose Sir Hedivere,
and ran.

T\ K i\\SS|.\(, oi' ARIIU R

389

And, Irapinii; ilowti the rId-'-s lightly,
pllln^;(•(i

Anions th- hrlrush hcds, and
clutih'd tlif SMcrd,

And stMliuly "liri'lM and flircu it.
The urcat hrand

Made linhtniriKs in tli<- splcndr.r ot
the ni< )n,

And flashiiij; round an.l roiiiul, and
whirl 'd in an arch,

Shot like a strranicr ot thr northcin
morn,

^ecn where the niuvin^ ides ul u in-
ter shock

By nii^ht, witli noises ot tlie North-
ern Sea.

So dash'd ;ind tell the luand Kxcal-
ihur :

Hut tr- he dipt the s'lrtace, rose an
arm

Clothed in white samite, myotic won-
derful.
And caught him hy tiie hilt, ami

brandisii'd him
Three times, and drew him under 111

the mere.
And lightly went the other to the
King.

1 hen spoke Kin^ Arthur, drawm;;

thicker breatli:
" Now sec I by tliine eyes that this

is done.
Speak out: what is it thou hast

heard, or seen ? "

And answer made the hold Sir

Hedivere:
" Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest

the gems
Should blind my purpose, fur I never

saw,
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere till

I die.
Not tho' I live three lives of mortal

men,
So great a miracle .is yonder hilr.

'1 hen uith both li.inds I Hung him,

W lieelin;; liiin ;
M'.t uheii 1 look d a-.iin, behold ai)

..nil,
Hothed in \ilnte s;uiiite, mystic,

wonderful.
That caught him b; the hilt, and

br.iiu'sh'd him
Three times, and drev. him under in

the mere."
And ansutr made Kin;; .Arthur,

breathing hari' :
" M\ end draws nigh; 'tis time that

i w ere gone.
Make broad thy shoulders to receive

my weifjlit.
And bear ine to the margin; ,et I

fear
-My \Miiind hai:i taken cold, and I
sli.ill ,lie."

So saying, from tl.e p.ivf,i<ent he
half rose,
Slouly, uith pain, riclining on his

arm.
And looking w!stfu!l> with «iJe blue

e\es
As in a picture, flim Sir Hedivere
Ren.orsefiilly regarded thro' his

tears,
And would hav .spoken, but he

found not words;
I hen took w ith care, and kneeling

on one knee,
* )'er both his shoulders drew the lan-
guid hands,
And rising bore him thro' the place
of tombs.

Hut, as he walk'.l, Kiig Arthur

panted hard,
Like one that feels a nightmare on

his bed
When all tiie house is mi'te. So

sigh'd the King.
Muttering and murmuring ar his

car, "Quick, quick!
I fear it is too late, and I shall die."

390

IDYLLS OF THE KING

But the other swiftly strode from

ridge to riilge,
Clothed with his breath, and looking,

as he wallc'd,
Larger than human on the frozen

hills.
He heard the deep behind him, and

a cry
Before. His own thought drove

him like a goad.
Dry clash'd his harness in the icy

caves
And barren chasms, and all to left

and right
The bare black cliff clang'd round

him, as he based
His feet on juts of slippery crag that

rang
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed

heels —
Atid on a sudden, lo! the ' vel lake,
And the long glories of tiie winter

moon.

Then 'aw they how there hove a

dusky barge,
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to

stern,
Beneath them. ; and descending they

were ware
That all the decks were dense with

stately forms,
Black-stnled, black-hooded, like a

dream — by these
Three Queens with crowns of gold :

and from them rose
A cry that shiver'd to the tingling

stars,
And, as it were one voice, an agonv
Of lamentation, like a wmd that

shrills
All night in a waste land, where no

one comes,
Or hath come, since the making of

the world.

Then murmur'd Arthur, " Place
me in the barge."

So to the barge the>- came. There

those three Queens
Put forth their hands, and '.ook the

King, and wept.
But she, that rose the tallest of them

all
And fairest, laid his head unon her

lap.
And loosed the shatter'd casque, and

chafed his hands,
And call'd him by his name, com-
plaining loud.
And dropping bitter tears against a

brow-
Striped with dark blood : for all his

face was white
And colorless, and like the wither'd

nidon
Smote by the fresh beam of the

springing east;
And all his greaves and cuisses d.tsh'd

with drops
Of onset; and the light and lustrous

curls —
That made his forehead like a rising

sun
High from the dais-throne — were

parch'd with dust;
(^r, clotted into points and hanging

loose,
Alix'd with the knightly growth

that fringed his lips.
So like a shatter'd column lay the

King;
Not like that Arthur who, with lance

in rest.
From spur to plume a star of tourna-
ment,
Shot thro' the lists at (^amelot, and

charged
Before the eyes of 'adies and of

kings.

Then loudly cried the hold Sir
Bec^ivere:
'Ah! mv Lord Arthur, whither shall
I go?

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

Where shall I hide n,y furchcail and

mj- eyes ?
For now I see the true old times are

dead,
When every morning brought a

noble chance,
And every chance brought out a

noble knight.
Such times have beer not since the

light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of

myrrh.
But now the whole Round Table is

dissolved
Which was an image of the might"
world, '

And I, the hist, go forth companion-
less,
And the days darken round me, and

the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other
minds."

And slowly answer'd Arthur from
the barge:
" The old order changeth, yielding

place to new,
And God fulfils himself in many

wa>s,
Lest one good custom should corrupt

the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in

me.-'
I have lived my life, and tha '

I have done
May He within himself make pure!

but thou.
If thou shouldst never see ii,y face

again.
Pray for my soul. More things are

wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of.

\yherefore, let thy voice
Rise like a fountain for me night and

day.
For what are men better than sheep
or goats

That nourish a blind life within the

brain.
If, knowing God, they lift not hands

ot prayer
Both for themselves and those who

call them friend.'
For so the whole round earth is

every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet

of God.
But now farewell. I am going a

long way
With these thou scest — if indeed I

— For all my mind is clouded with a

doubt —
To the island-vallev of Avilion;
Where tails not hail, or rain, or

any snow,

Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it
lies

Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with

orchard lawns
And bowery hollows crown'd with

summer sea.
Where I will heal me of my grievous

wound.

So said he, and the barge with oar
and sail
Moved from the brink, like some

full-breasted swan
That, fluting a wild carol ere her

death.
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and

takes the flood
With s\yarthy webs. Long stood Sir

oedivere
Revolving many memories, tiil the

hull
Look'd one black dot against the

verge of dawn,
And on the mere the wailing died
away.

But when that moan had past for
evermore,

392

r-YLLS OF THK KING

The stlllncGS of tin- ilcail wurKl's

winter dawn
Amazed him, and hv ^roan'd, " '1 lie

King is K""'-'-'
And there\\ithal tame on him the

weird rhyme,
" From tlic s;redt deep to the great

deep he goes."

Whereat he slowly turn'd anil
slowly clonib

The last hard tootstep of that iron
-rag;

Thence mark'd the black hull mov-
ing yet, and crieil

" He passes to be King among tlie
dead.

And after healing ot his grievous
wound

He comes again; but — if he conies
no more —

() me, be \on dark Queens in yon
black boat,

Who shriek'd and wailM, the three
whereat we gazed

On that high day, when, clothed
with living light.

They stood before his throne in si-
lence, friends

Of Arthur, who sliould help him at
his need .■" "

Then from the dawn it seem'd

there came, but faint
As from beyond the limit of the

world,
Like the last echo born of a great

cry,
Sounds, as if some fair city were

one voice
Around a king returning from his

wars.

Thereat once more he moved

about, and clonib
I\v'n to the highest he could climb,

and saw,
Straining his eyes beneath an arch

of hand,
Or thought he saw, the speck that

hare the King,
r>)\\n that long water opening on

the deep
Somewhere far off, pass on and on,

anil go
From less to less and vanish into

light.
And the new sun rose bringmg the

nen year.

TO THE QUEEN

O I.OVAI. to the rova! in tliN'-elf, And London roll'd one tide of joy

And lo>al to th\' land, as this to thro' all

thee — Her trebled millions, and loud

Bear uirness, that remeiiiberable leagues of man

day. And welcome! witness, too, the si-

When, pale as \ct, and fever-worn, lent cry,

fhe I'rince The prayer of many a race and creed,

Who scaicc had pluckM his flicker- and clime — •

ing life again Thunderless lightnings striking under

From halfway down the shadow of sea

the grave, F'roni sunset and sunrise of all thy

Past with tliee thro' tliy people and realm,

their love,

TO THE QUEEN

And _ that true North, whereof we

lately heard
A strain to shame us, " Keep you to

yourselves;
So loyal is too costly! frien.is — your

love
Is but a burthen : loose the bond, and

Ro."
Is this the tone of empire? here the

faith
That made us rulers? this, indeed,

her voice
And meaning, whom the roar of

Hou^oumont
I-rft mightiest of all peoples under

heaven ?
What shock has fool'd Iht since, that

she should speak
So feebly? wealthier — uealthicr —

hour by hour!
The voice or Britain, or a sinking
land.

Some third-rate isle half-lost amont;

her seas?
Tbtrt' ranj,' her voice, when the full

city pcal'd
Thee and thy Prince! The loyal to

their crow n
Arc loyal to their own far sons, who

love

Our ocean-empire with her boundless

homes
For ever-broadening; England, and

her throne
In our vast Orient, and one isle, one

isle.
That knows not her own greatness :

if she knows
And dreads it we are fall'n. — Rut

thou, my Queen,
Not for itself, but thro' thy living

love
For one to whom I made it o'er his

grave
Sacred, except this ol.l imperfect

tale,
New-(ild, and shadowing Sense at

"ar with Soul

393

Ideal manhood closed in real man
Rather than that gray king, whose

name, a ghost,
Streajtis like a cloud, man-shaped,

from mountain peak.
And cleaves to cairn and cromlech

stdl; or him
Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Mall-

eor's, one

Touch 'd by the adulterous finger of
a time

That hover'd between uar and wan-
tonness.

And crownings and dethronements-
take withal

Thy poet's blessing, and his trust that
Heaven

Will blow the tempest in the distance

back
From thine and ours: for some are

scared, who mark,
f )r u isely or unwisely, signs of stortM,
Wavermgs of ever}' vane with every

\\md,

And wordy trucklings to the transient
hour.

And tierce or careless looseners of

tlie fnith,

And Softness breeding scorn of sim-
ple life,

Or Couardice, the child of lust for
gold,

Or Labor, with a groan and not a
voice.

Or Art with poisonous honey stol'n
from France,

And that which knows, but careful

for itself.
And that which knows not, ruling

that which knows
To its own harm: the goal of this

great world
Lies beyond sight- yet — if our

slowly-grown
And crnwn'd Republic's crowning

common-sense,
That saved her many times, not fiil
— their fears

394

IDYLLS OF THE KL\G

Are morning shadows huger than The darkness of that battle in the

the shapes West,

That cast them, not those gloomier Where all of hi^jh and holy d

which forego away.

les