OmVERSITY OF gtlFORNU
 
 LAYS OF THE ROUND TABLE
 
 Uniform -with this Volume 
 
 GWENEVERE 
 
 A LYRIC PLAY 
 mr THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 [Written in concert with Mr Vincent 
 Thomas's music, and played at the 
 Coronet Theatre, Nov. 13th, 1905]
 
 LAYS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ROUND TABLE 
 
 AND OTHER LYRIC ROMANCES 
 
 BY 
 
 ERNEST RHYS 
 
 IVyfluKoSl 
 
 
 H>fc»»Wf^ ^<M «1 
 
 f 
 
 N 
 ^ & CO. 
 
 TREET, W.C 
 
 1905 
 
 LONDO 
 
 J. M. DENT 
 
 29 & 30 BEDFORD S
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 PR5
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO CRANIA, WITH THE ROSE OF OLD ROMANCE 
 
 Dearest oftvomen, — if this Rose be grotun 
 
 Red in late autumn, claim it for your oivn I 
 
 This is thefloiuer that breathed on Camelot 
 
 Undying perfume ; ivhose fine arrcius, shot 
 
 Across the vacant dark and gape of time. 
 
 Found the JVhite Doe there in her faerie clime ; 
 
 And this the Rose ivhose blood fulfilled the Grail, 
 
 JVhose thorns nvere sharp, ivhose stem encased in mail 
 
 Was Arthur's, — armed his purple crest ivith fear. 
 
 And ivith one petal made all Gnvenevere. 
 
 If it be said, the blossoms of that tree 
 
 Their summer past, have no eternity. 
 
 It is not true. Great Love, imperilled, is 
 
 Still a knight errant on the hills and seas. 
 
 And you, ivhose guerdon noiv, these three years gone — 
 
 Dire years, — / ivon in fear , and still ivarred on, 
 
 Knoiv hoiv the Tree of Arthur and its fioiver 
 
 Were still my solace in the insatiate hour ; — 
 
 Knoiv hoiv we too sustained the Dolorous Stroke,
 
 vi DEDICATION 
 
 Met the fell ivind that full on Barendown broke, 
 With Columbe died, jought at the Peron stone 
 And at the last, when all cur ivars were done 
 And we left wounded, sailed to Avalon. 
 What more of hope and ivoe made red this Rose, 
 None but the secret dream of Grania knows, 
 That drained the Cup of Trembling, and renewed 
 With nvomati s sorroiv Avalon s magic rood. 
 And from the piteous dust long buried there 
 Lifted this flower, to live and bloom for her. 
 
 September 24, 1 905
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 The Flower and the Leaf 
 
 True Love . 
 
 The Song of Dinadan, and the Refrain of La 
 
 Belle Isoud 
 The Lady called "White Hands " 
 The Battle of the Two Knights : or the Lay of 
 
 THE PeRON-StONE, AND THE ReFRAIN OF THE 
 
 Dead Lady, Columbe, who Loved the King 
 
 OF Ireland's Son 
 Alice La Belle Pilgrim 
 The Birds of Rhiannon 
 The Ring of True Love 
 The Song of Dagonet 
 The Two Fools (Dagonet's Song) 
 The Lay of King Mark 
 The Wisdom of King Solomon 
 The Sermon of the Gentlewoman the which was 
 
 Sister to Sir Percivale ; Shewing to Sir 
 
 Galahad the Virtue of the Sword 
 The Dolorous Stroke . . . • 
 
 The Lay of Surluse . . . . 
 
 The Wonder-Dream . . . . 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 4 
 6 
 
 7 
 '3 
 
 15 
 
 i6 
 
 i8 
 '9 
 
 21 
 
 23 
 
 25 
 28 
 29 
 
 34
 
 Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 The Song of the Four Knights 
 
 The Quest of the Grail : on the Eve 
 
 The City of Sarras 
 
 Sir Launcelot and the Sancgreal . 
 
 The Last Sleep of Sir Launcelot 
 
 The Lament of Sir Ector De Maris 
 
 Timor Mortis 
 
 The Song of the Seven Candles 
 
 The Lay that had no End 
 
 The Unfinished Book of Bleise 
 
 Arthur's Grave : the Epitaph 
 
 The Castle Speaks . 
 
 The Song of the Apple 
 
 St David and the Sorrows 
 
 The Flower Maiden 
 
 Keri's Daughter 
 
 36 
 39 
 41 
 45 
 49 
 51 
 54 
 
 56 
 
 60 
 62 
 
 63 
 64 
 
 66 
 68 
 
 71 
 
 72 
 
 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 L The Roses of Knockadoon 
 IL The Chamber of Ecstasy 
 in. Morning Light 
 IV. The Wonder of the World 
 V. To Grania in Ireland 
 VI. Maiden-Wood 
 VII. L'Envoi : the Mirror of Romance 
 
 81 
 84 
 86 
 
 87 
 91 
 93 
 94
 
 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF 
 
 Winter and his blast 
 Cause a man to cower, 
 
 And by the winter-fire sit fast 
 Many an hour. 
 
 But May and her sweet kind, 
 Sweet flower and fresh leaf. 
 
 Burgeon in a sad man's mind — 
 End his grief. 
 
 Then, — for oh, how brief 
 
 Is his burgeoning, — 
 With the Flower and the Leaf 
 
 Let him sing.
 
 TRUE LOVE 
 
 Like as herb and tree in May 
 
 Flourish from the root, 
 Every lusty heart must rise, 
 And start to love, and fare likewise, — 
 
 Flower first, then fruit. 
 
 For he giveth courage then 
 
 That lusty month of May, — 
 He calls to mind what true love is. 
 Old service and old gentleness, 
 Forgot upon the way. 
 
 For, know you, never worshipful 
 
 Man nor woman neither, 
 But each loved the other well. 
 More than anyone can tell 
 
 Each one loving either. 
 
 Such love I call virtuous love ; 
 
 But now men, nowadays. 
 Cannot love, — not seven night. 
 But they must have all love's delight. 
 
 Fruit and grace.
 
 TRUE LOVE 
 
 Hasty heat, — it cooleth soon, 
 
 All its love soon told : 
 Winter rasure soon doth rase 
 Summer ; — so is love these days. 
 
 Soon hot, soon cold ! 
 
 This is no stability : 
 
 The old love was not so : 
 Men would love for seven year, 
 In loving truth and tender fear, 
 
 And wantonness not know. 
 
 Call to your remembrance then. 
 
 The joyous month of May, 
 And call up True Love to you here, 
 Who while she lives, loves very dear, 
 And loves the same alway.
 
 THE SONG OF DINADAN, 
 AND THE REFRAIN OF LA BELLE ISOUD 
 
 [From " Gwenevere " a Lyric Play.] 
 
 "I MARVEL much," said Dinadan, 
 
 " What madness knights may know, 
 That follow love like Sir Tristan, 
 And find it bitter woe." 
 " Ah ! " said La Belle houd^ " say not so ! " 
 
 " But think," said he, " of Sir Tristan, 
 
 Besotted many a year ! 
 As joyous once as Dinadan — 
 
 He has bought thy love too dear." 
 " Ah ! " said La Belle Isoud^ " say not so ! " 
 
 " What ails then all their knightly sport, 
 
 That love should change their song? 
 For the joy of love is all too short. 
 And the sorrow far too long." 
 Ah ! " said La Belle Isoud, " say not so ! "
 
 THE SONG OF DINADAN 
 
 "The joy of love is all too brief, 
 
 And very long the woe : 
 For joy's the flower, but love, the leaf, 
 Endures that saw it go." 
 " Ah ! " said La Belle Loud, " say not so ! "
 
 THE LADY CALLED " WHITE HANDS : " 
 
 " That good love with which I loved you 
 Belle Isoud, has cost me lands, — 
 Cost me lands and lost me castles, 
 And the love of your sweet namesake 
 Of the Lady called 'White Hands.' 
 
 " Lands and loves have I forsaken, 
 All for love of her that stands 
 Now a traitress in her beauty, — 
 Belle Isoud, that made me traitor 
 
 To the Lady called ' White Hands.'" 
 
 What sorrow did Sir Tristan make, — 
 He mourned for love, not loss of lands,- 
 
 He mourned for sake of Belle Isoud ; 
 
 But who shall sorrow for the sake 
 
 Of the Lady called " White Hands " ?
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE TWO KNIGHTS: 
 OR THE LAY OF THE PERON-STONE, 
 AND THE REFRAIN OF THE DEAD 
 LADY, COLUMBE, WHO LOVED THE 
 KING OF IRELAND'S SON 
 
 What horseman, bound for Camelot, 
 
 Halts at the Peron-stone, 
 Where Balin slew Sir Lanceor 
 
 The King of Ireland's son : 
 Where Columbe sleeps, who could not bear 
 Her love should lie alone. 
 
 Oh Columbe^ lady Coluinbe^ 
 There It est thou with thy love : 
 Tou little think of them that ride 
 And shake the earth above. 
 
 II 
 
 Is it Sir Tristan halts his horse, 
 And stays his trampling pride,
 
 8 LAY OF THE PERON-STONE 
 
 To ponder on the Peron-stone 
 Where you lie side by side ? 
 
 Oh, now he sees another Knight 
 Against him set to ride. 
 
 III 
 
 The new Knight has a snow-white shield, 
 And helm and hauberk white : 
 
 Sir Tristan's soul grows great in him. 
 To see so great a knight : 
 
 He lifts his heart, and cries on high, — 
 " Ye be most welcome, Knight ! " 
 
 IV 
 
 They wheel, they set, they dress their spears. 
 
 And holding, hurling on. 
 They drive ; they thrust so fierce together 
 
 That horse and man are overthrown, — 
 They bruise the green life from the grass, 
 Beside the Peron-stone. 
 
 Oh Columbe^ lady Columbe^ 
 There liest thou with thy love^ — 
 Tou little think of them that ride 
 And shake the earth above.
 
 LAY OF THE PERON-STONE 
 
 The knights avoid their horses ; 
 
 They put their shields before : 
 They strake together with bright swords, 
 
 Belike four hours and more : 
 The blood fell red on the green grass, — 
 
 So wonderly they strake, and sore. 
 
 VI 
 
 Their Squires cry out for pity : 
 Cried Gouvernail : "What blows 
 
 Are they my master deals to thine ! " 
 "And what fierce buffets those 
 
 He takes of mine ! " the other said, — 
 " What he endures, God knows ! " 
 
 VII 
 
 " O Knight ! " cried out that other, — 
 
 "Thou fightest wonderly, — 
 Tell me thy name ! " " First tell me thine, 
 
 And I will so to thee ! " 
 "But mine is Lancelot du Lake ; 
 
 Now knightly tell thine me ! "
 
 lo LAY OF THE PERON-STONE 
 
 [Oh Columbe, lady Columbe^ 
 There liest thou with thy love^ — 
 But little think of them that ride^ 
 And shake the earth above.'] 
 
 VIII 
 
 " O Lancelot," then Tristan said,— 
 " What ill thing have I done ? 
 
 Ye are the one man I do love, 
 The best, the knightliest one ! " 
 
 " But tell me then," said Lancelot, — 
 " By what name thou art known ? " 
 
 IX 
 
 " Sir Tristan I, of Lyonesse ; 
 
 If thou art Lancelot, 
 Then all that honour I have won. 
 
 And all my deeds are naught : 
 Now men shall say, behold the knight 
 
 That with his best friend fought." 
 
 Then each to other knelt there 
 And yielded up his sword :
 
 LAY OF THE PERON-STONE ii 
 
 And each one yielded the degree 
 
 In honour's dear accord, 
 Then rose, and on the Peron-stone 
 Each sat, and kissed his lord. 
 Ob Columbe, lady Columbe, 
 There liest thou with thy love : 
 But little think of them that sit 
 The Peron-stone above. 
 
 XI 
 
 Anon they rise, and from the stone 
 They take the road again, 
 
 To Camelot, — and knightly make 
 An honour of each stain : 
 
 And now they meet Sir Gaheris 
 And with him Sir Gawain. 
 
 XII 
 
 "We ride," said they, "oh Lancelot, 
 
 Sir Tristan to discover ! " 
 "Return then," cries Sir Lancelot, — 
 
 "All your quest is over: 
 I have brought you Sir Tristan, — 
 
 Earth's most knightliest lover ! "
 
 12 LAY OF THE PERON-STONE 
 
 XIII 
 
 Now in they fare, and King Arthur's ta'en 
 
 Sir Tristan at the door 
 With both his hands. But when he heard 
 
 How wonderly and sore 
 Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristan fought, — 
 Great dole he made therefore. 
 Oh Colwnbe, lady Columhe^ 
 There liest thou with thy love : 
 Tou little reck of them that ride 
 And shake the earth above.
 
 ALICE LA BELLE PILGRIM 
 
 "Then came Queen Morgan le Fay to 
 Alisander, and bade him arise, and put him in 
 a horse-litter, and gave him such a drinic that 
 in three days and three nights he waked never, 
 but slept : and so she brought him to her own 
 castle that at that time was called La Beale 
 Regard." 
 
 "Sixteen wounds should slay a knight, 
 
 Alisander le Orphelin ! 
 But where is the faery-leech shall say 
 If you will live till morning light ? " 
 "Ask Morgan le Fay," said Alisander, "ask 
 
 Morgan le Fay." 
 
 " The sixteenth wound is very deep, 
 
 Alisander le Orphelin^'" 
 Said Morgan le Fay, " would you be whole. 
 Or are you ready for mortal sleep ? " 
 " Who would be sick," said Alisander, " if he might 
 be whole." 
 
 13
 
 14 ALICE LA BELLE PILGRIM 
 
 " If I search your wounds, and make you well, 
 
 Alisander le Orphelin, 
 Will you be mine ? " said Morgan le Fay. 
 " I would if it were not for Alice la Belle — 
 ''I dream of her," said Alisander, "dream of her 
 
 night and day," 
 
 " For Alice la Belle, steel glaives you need, 
 
 Alisander le Orphelin^ 
 But you lie close in the linen-bands : 
 What shall she say, when your wounds do 
 
 bleed ? " 
 "jWith her white hands," said Alisander, " bind 
 
 them with her hands ! " 
 
 "But if it be I that make you well, 
 
 Alisander le Orphelin^ 
 What of the fee of Morgan le Fay ! " 
 " Earth and wild fire and Alice la Belle 
 Shallfpay the fee," said Alisander, "Alice la Belle 
 
 shall pay."
 
 THE BIRDS OF RHIANNON 
 
 O THE birds of Rhiannon 
 They sing time away, — 
 
 Seven years in their singing 
 Are gone like a day. 
 
 Eight score years are nothing 
 While they sing to men ; 
 
 But when their song's over, 
 Oh, woe to you then ! 
 
 You shall know all the sorrow 
 You had to your cost, 
 
 All the loss, — yes, remember 
 All the friends you have lost I 
 
 15
 
 THE RING OF TRUE LOVE 
 
 I WILL give you a ring, Sir Gareth, 
 
 (Said the Lady of Lyonesse) 
 But how, in my heart, can I spare it ? 
 If I wear it, my beauty increaseth, 
 
 If I spare, it grows less. 
 
 This virtue it has too, Sir Gareth : 
 
 (Said the Lady of Lyonesse') 
 To make a new knight in thy Hkeness 
 And to brightness turn shade, and lend honour 
 
 A bright sword in the press. 
 
 And this virtue it has too. Sir Gareth, 
 
 (Said the Lady of Lyonesse) 
 To turn dark into light, and make bright too 
 Dead of night, and arm the pale rider 
 
 With the shield, Steadfastness. 
 
 i6
 
 THE RING OF TRUE LOVE 17 
 
 Thy grace be the greater, Sir Gareth : 
 
 And my beauty be less. 
 This is love, that can suffer and bear it ; 
 Yes, for love's sake, lose all and forswear it ! 
 
 Said the Lady of Lyonesse. 
 
 B
 
 THE SONG OF DAGONET 
 
 Arthur's jester, heaven-born fool, 
 
 What folly brings you riding 
 
 Far away from Caerleon ? — 
 While your feather in the pool 
 
 Nods and beckons to your hiding 
 
 Otherself that calls you on, — | 
 
 Dagonet ? 
 
 Leave the jousting ! Break the quest ! 
 
 Leave to Palamides 
 
 The death-thrust by the heron-pool 
 At Glatisant the deathly beast. 
 
 All can fight as need is ; 
 
 Only one can play the fool, — 
 
 Dagonet. 
 
 x8
 
 THE TWO FOOLS 
 
 (dagonet's song) 
 
 " . . Then he ran thither and gat Sir 
 Dagonet by the head, and gave him such a 
 fall to the earth that he bruised him sore, so 
 that he lay still. . . " — Morte Darthur ix. xix. 
 
 That fool and I fool 
 
 Met together : 
 He wrast off my sword, 
 
 He brast my belt leather. 
 
 My bauble he broke, 
 
 He nigh had my head oif. 
 
 And left me for dead, 
 
 As his mad way he led off. 
 
 That fool and I fool ! 
 
 Wellnigh he had slain me ; 
 Struck dumb my five bells ; 
 
 With foul earth did stain me. 
 
 19
 
 20 THE TWO FOOLS 
 
 What folly was his ? 
 
 Love's melancholy? 
 But mine is of heav'n, — 
 
 Heaven-sent folly ! 
 
 His folly is love's, 
 
 But mine is of heaven I 
 
 For one folly he has, 
 I have seven. 
 
 St Bridget send sun, 
 
 St Bran send the weather, 
 
 When that fool and I fool 
 Come next together.
 
 THE LAY OF KING MARK 
 
 "And so the harpers went straight into 
 Wales and into Cornwall to sing the lay that 
 Sir Dinadan made of King Mark, which was 
 the worst lay that ever harper sang with 
 harp or with any other instruments." 
 
 Now^King Mark rode beneath the leaf, 
 Unto a fountain in the green shade ; 
 
 When by there came Sir Lamorak, 
 And grievous the complaint he made, — 
 
 Great dolour, piteous grief 
 
 He tied his horse unto a tree. 
 
 He set him down by the fountain-side, 
 
 The langour of Sir Lamorak, 
 The great complaint with which he cried, 
 
 Were such, the King he could not see. 
 
 And this the cross of his complaint, 
 
 " Oh, queen of Orkney, King Lot's wife," 
 
 Cried aloud Sir Lamorak, — 
 "Now for thy love's sake, all that life 
 
 Which waxed in me, doth wane and faint ! "
 
 22 THE LAY OF KING MARK 
 
 " Fair knight," said Mark, " tell me thy name, 
 "Complain more piteous, no knight could! " . . 
 
 But at that voice. Sir Lamorak 
 Remembering Tristan — Belle Isoud — 
 
 Forgot his woe in King Mark's shame. 
 
 " Of coward knights, the king and chief 
 King Mark is known, that Sir Tristan 
 Has put to shame ! " cried Lamorak, 
 " To shame ! " the stream cried as it ran ; 
 
 " TO SHAME ! " cried out the forest leaf.
 
 THE WISDOM OF KING SOLOMON 
 
 "This Solomon had an evil wife, where- 
 through he wend that there had been no good 
 'woman, and so he despised them in his books." 
 
 Oh Solomon, King Solomon, 
 
 He knew the secret of each tree. 
 
 The hidden virtue of each stone. 
 Of every herb the mystery : 
 
 He knew each course the stars do run. 
 
 But an evil wife had Solomon, 
 
 Wherethrough he wend that all were so, 
 And there could be no nobler one : 
 
 And he contemned them, thro' and thro', 
 And in his books made light thereon. 
 
 II 
 
 Then Heav'n found voice in Solomon : 
 
 " If one is evil, one shall be 
 Before thy lineage be run. 
 
 Shall bring men more felicity. 
 
 Far, than the evil thine has done ! " 
 
 »3
 
 24 THE WISDOM OF KING SOLOMON 
 
 When this voice came to Solomon, 
 He held himself a fool. He said, 
 
 " By woman shall our Heav'n be won ! 
 A man shall come, shall be a maid, 
 
 Blood of my blood, and Mary's son."
 
 THE SERMON OF THE GENTLEWOMAN 
 THE WHICH WAS SISTER TO SIR 
 PERCIVALE; SHEWING TO SIR 
 GALAHAD THE VIRTUE OF THE 
 SWORD : 
 
 '<By my faith," said Galahad, "I would 
 draw this sword out of the sheath, but the 
 offending is so great, that I shall not set my 
 hand thereto." 
 
 Of divers fashions was the sword : 
 The pommel of the onyx stone : 
 
 To dress the haft great beasts had died 
 That break the wood and the breast the tide : 
 And one Euphrates' flood doth ride 
 And one doth hide in Calidon. 
 
 Great beasts did give their strength to it, 
 And give the curve of their breast-bone : 
 And one the Fiend hath in fee, 
 The serpent wound around that tree 
 (Whose fruit wrought Eve's calamity) 
 That midmost grows in Calidon.
 
 26 SERMON OF THE GENTLEWOMAN 
 
 The other, men call Ertanax : 
 
 A fish, a four-legg'd fish, he is : 
 
 They call him so, for his bone is good : 
 He cunningly doth choose his food. 
 Three fathom deep amid the mud, 
 
 That drinks the flood of Euphrates. 
 
 His bones be of such manner of kind, 
 That whoso handleth them forthright. 
 Shall never weary, nor never sorrow ; 
 Nor lose his heart, nor fear the morrow, 
 Nor yester-night ; — but from them borrow 
 High courage, honour, peerless might. 
 
 Of divers colours was the sword : 
 
 The blade's left side was red as blood : 
 And letters, black as coal, engross't, — 
 " He that shall take^ to praise me most^ 
 Shall find me fail ^ and at his cost^ 
 Lose all his trusty and hardihood ! " 
 
 But on the scabbard of serpent's skin, 
 
 Letters of gold and silver inlaid : 
 
 '-'•By the body of him^ that should me bear^ 
 
 If he wield me truly as never were^ 
 
 He shall never be shamed, but surely fare 
 
 An my girdle be girt with a virgin maid.'''
 
 SERMON OF THE GENTLEWOMAN 27 
 
 Yea, divers virtue was in the sword 
 And in the scabbard of serpent's skin : 
 Take heed then : think of King Hurlame 
 That thought to wear it and died in shame : 
 Take heed now, knight, of your fair fame ; 
 For Grace misused is Deadly Sin !
 
 THE DOLOROUS STROKE 
 
 " For sithen increased neither corn nor 
 grass, nor well nigh no fruit, nor in the 
 water was no fish : wherefore men call it 
 the lands of the two inarches, the waste land, 
 for that Dolorous Stroke." 
 
 It befell in the realm of Logris, 
 
 What time was deadly war, 
 That King Hurlame the Saracen 
 
 Wrought hard on King Labor. 
 
 II 
 
 He drew his sword for the Dolorous Stroke 
 
 Cleft thro' King Labor's helm : 
 Great pestilence did come therefor, — 
 
 Yea, deadly hurt to Logris' realm. 
 
 Ill 
 
 No grass, no corn, grew in the field ; 
 
 No harvest gave it mirth. 
 Men called those lands, for the Dolorous 
 Stroke, 
 
 The waste land of the earth.
 
 THE LAY OF SURLUSE 
 
 Now Launcelot and La Cote Male Taile, 
 
 Which one of you will choose 
 To take the three bridges and break the three gates 
 
 That guard the fair land of Surluse ? 
 
 "Sir Launcelot," says La Cote Male Taile, 
 
 "Let me fare to win or fall ! 
 If I speed, it is gain ; if I die, say the same ; 
 
 Ye shall win where I fail, — that is all ! " 
 
 " Nay, I am loth I " cries Launcelot : 
 "This passage that you should pass! " 
 
 But La Cote Male Taile, for all else he should say. 
 Let break a great pace on the grass. 
 
 II 
 
 Sir Plein de Force, Sir Plein d'Amour I 
 Keep well the first bridge, or give way : 
 
 Here comes a young knight with his coat cut awry 
 But his spear is long as the day. 
 
 »9
 
 30 THE LAY OF SURLUSE 
 
 The tennon'd planks rock as they ride, knight and 
 horse, 
 
 Like a ship under pluck of full sail : 
 But there's one hath a stain far too deep for the rain 
 
 From the blood of La Cote Male Taile. 
 
 Yet whether they ride or their horses avoid, 
 He hath meddled, and they are down : 
 
 Sir Plein de Force and Sir Plein d' Amour 
 Ye have lost the long pont of the town. 
 
 Ill 
 
 *' Now, what is to do ? " said La Cote Male Taile, 
 " But try the next bridge an I may : 
 
 Their brother, like fate, sits full-arm'd at the gate, — 
 Plenorius, — far greater than they ! " 
 
 They two knights jousted, they two knights thrust. 
 
 Till the wind shook Surluse town : 
 But so be-bled was La Cote Male Taile, 
 
 Plenorius hath gat him down. 
 
 Yes, what for-wounded was Cote Male Taile, 
 What for-bled, he might not stand : 
 
 But Plenorius was as noble a lord 
 As ever took sword in his hand.
 
 THE LAY OF SURLUSE 31 
 
 " Dismay ye not, you fair young knight ! 
 
 For, had you been fresh like me, 
 I had not endured, as ye have done : 
 
 Now the best that I have be for thee I " 
 
 He has carried him to his bed-chamber : 
 " Yet haste ! " was the hurt man's cry : 
 
 "There's another knight waits at the bridge. 
 And another manner knight than I." 
 
 " Oh, what is his name ? " said Plenorius, 
 
 " That shall ye not know for me ! " 
 But he heard a horse neigh, and a parlous voice 
 say — 
 
 ''Sir knight, I would meddle with thee." 
 
 IV 
 
 " Art there, sweetheart," cried Plenorius : 
 "Ay, Surluse ! " Sir Launcelot cried : 
 
 And step by step Sir Launcelot gained 
 The bridge at the Surluse side. 
 
 " Nay, leave your horse ! " said Plenorius. 
 
 They avoid ; Ha ! the red knight's down : 
 The second long bridge hath Sir Launcelot gat, 
 
 And the second strong gate of the town.
 
 32 THE LAY OF SURLUSE 
 
 " Now what is to do ? " Sir Launcelot said : 
 "Try the third town-bridge on the tide ! " 
 
 There Pillounes, — Pellandris, — Pellogris, 
 Plenorius' three brothers abide. 
 
 'Tis one spear to three men, but that spear hath a 
 demon ; 
 
 They are faint, — yea, ahorse or afoot : 
 The third gate to the town hath Sir Launcelot down, 
 
 And La Cote Male Taile he hath out. 
 
 " Now, thanks to thee. La Cote Male Taile, 
 
 For this meddle," cried Launcelot : 
 " We have gat the three bridges and passed the 
 three gates; 
 
 All is thine that Plenorius aught 
 
 1 " 
 
 "Nay, thanks to thee. Sir Launcelot, — 
 I am saved," said La Cote Male Taile, 
 
 "But I pray thee pardon Plenorius, 
 Ere yet all thy kindness fail ! 
 
 " Plenorius gave my life to me, — 
 Upon the bridge. As time is short : 
 
 Let him keep his five lands, and knightly kiss hands 
 Next Pentecost at the Haut King's Court."
 
 THE LAY OF SURLUSE t,2> 
 
 "At Pentecost," said Sir Launcelot, 
 
 " Plenorius, sure as the Table's round : 
 
 And sure as one siege is voided there, 
 One siege for thee shall be found ! "
 
 THE WONDER-DREAM 
 
 " Of thys bataille were to telle, — 
 How Knightis undyr sadels felle, — 
 And stedys that ■were bold and snelle 
 Amonge hem waden in the blode 
 Before the tyme of even belle." 
 
 The Red King with the Hundred Knights, 
 
 A wonder-dream he dreamed 
 And thro' and thro' it blew the wind ; 
 And a wicked wind it seemed : 
 (In his dream in the forest of Bedegraine^ soon after 
 All-hallowmass Eve.) 
 
 It blew upon the turret-tops, 
 
 And brought them tumbling down ; 
 
 It overset the Castle-keep ; 
 As low it laid the town : 
 (In his dream in the forest of Bedegraine.^ soon after 
 All-hallowmass Eve.^ 
 
 34
 
 THE WONDER-DREAM 35 
 
 And then a black rain fell in flood 
 
 And washed them all away : 
 But every drop the Red King dreamed, 
 
 Was a drop of blood next day : 
 (y^j he lay in the forest of Bedegraine^ soon after 
 
 All-hallowmass Eve.^
 
 THE SONG OF THE FOUR KNIGHTS 
 
 From " Gwenevere " a Lyric Play. 
 
 Merlin. But tell me now, how went this fight 
 Of Camlan field?" . . . 
 
 I 
 
 The First Knight. 
 One star was bright, — the cold dawn-star ! 
 I saw a thousand lift the spear 
 In Modred's camp, to end the night, 
 As grey, we rode in the morning Hght. 
 
 II 
 
 The Second Knight. 
 
 The King rode with us, — and his head 
 Was grown grey too, we saw and said : 
 When he cried Halt ! on Camlan Hill 
 The dawn-star pale above him still. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The Third Knight. 
 
 His face too, grey beneath his helm : 
 
 Then : " For the Table and the Realm 
 
 Ride now ! " he cried, and on we flowed 
 
 Each spear athirst for Modred's blood. 
 36
 
 THE SONG OF THE FOUR KNIGHTS n 
 
 IV 
 
 The Fourth Knight. 
 
 But Modred met us, spear for spear. 
 Was he afraid ? He showed no fear : 
 When Arthur riding, shining, thrust 
 The death-spear through him, to the dust. 
 
 " Kneel now, Haut King ! " he cried, " and save 
 My soul the travail it shall have, 
 Were this not told of my remorse 
 And Arthur lighted off his horse. 
 
 I " 
 
 VI 
 
 The First Knight. 
 
 Ah Snake ! he crept upon the shaft 
 Could not be drawn : and dying, laught, 
 And with his sword struck at the head 
 Bent there to hear what thing he said. 
 
 VII 
 
 The Third Knight. 
 
 So Modred died, — a traitor still, 
 Up to the end, by Camlan Hill ! 
 And as we bore the King away, — 
 On Modred's lips the death-laugh lay.
 
 38 THE SONG OF THE FOUR KNIGHTS 
 
 VIII 
 
 The Four Knights. 
 
 Now, of the Flower of Camelot, — 
 Knights, Arthur loved, and Launcelot, 
 What is there left but stricken men 
 That bear the Haut King home again.
 
 THE QUEST OF THE GRAIL: ON 
 THE EVE 
 
 "And then the king and all estates went 
 home unto Camelot, and so went to evensong 
 to the great minster. And so after upon 
 that to supper." 
 
 I 
 
 " Before you take this Quest," (he said), " in order 
 
 set, — 
 Each knight around the Table, — come, sup with 
 
 me yet ; 
 Come, keep the feast, that after us men never 
 
 shall forget ! " 
 
 II 
 Now, round the Table seated, each tall knight in 
 
 his place, — 
 Hears noises like to thunder, and sees a light 
 
 whose rays 
 Make shine his fellows by him, with brows more 
 
 bright than day's. 
 
 39
 
 40 THE QUEST OF THE GRAIL 
 
 III 
 Not one could speak, for wonder. Then lo, 
 
 within the hall 
 Wrapt round with snow-white samite, the 
 
 blessed Sancgreal 
 And sweetest savours filled the board ; and meat 
 
 and drink for all. 
 
 IV 
 
 The mystic Vessel like a gleam went by : it could 
 
 not stay : 
 And the knights all fell to feasting, and the 
 
 vision passed away, 
 That all shall quest, but few shall find, until the 
 
 earth's last day. 
 
 V 
 
 And then they fell to babbling, their hands upon 
 
 their knees, 
 And babbled of the morrow, and all the joy there is 
 For them that quest, and ride the lands, and cross 
 
 the winter seas. 
 
 VI 
 
 But the tears fell down King Arthur's cheeks, 
 
 as he sate with his men : 
 "Ye have set me in great sorrow," said Arthur to 
 
 them then : 
 " For oh, I doubt, my fellowship, shall meet no 
 
 more again ! "
 
 THE CITY OF SARRAS 
 
 " I require you that ye bury me not in this 
 country, but as soon as 1 am dead put me in a 
 boat at the next haven, . . . and as soon as 
 ye three come to the city of Sarras, there to 
 achieve the Holy Grail, . . . there bury me 
 in the spiritual place." 
 
 I 
 
 Oh, have you not heard of Sir Galahad, 
 
 Sir Bors and Sir Percival, — 
 How they came to the Castle of Carbonek,- 
 
 On the Quest of the Sancgreal ? 
 
 II 
 They sate at King Pelles' table, — 
 
 And they saw a Spear that bled 
 Three drops of blood most marvellous, — 
 
 And a marvellous sweet voice said, — 
 
 III 
 " Sir Galahad,— Sir Galahad ! 
 
 Sir Bors, and Sir Percival! " — 
 And all three saw a shining form 
 
 By the cup of the Sancgreal. 
 
 4»
 
 42 THE CITY OF SARRAS 
 
 IV 
 
 " This is Joseph of Arimathea," 
 It said, "The which had grace ; 
 
 Which was saved in the City of Sarras 
 In the Spiritual Place ! " 
 
 They grew adread to see the form 
 Of one dead, three hundred year I 
 
 But Joseph said, " A man hke you, 
 Look on me, — have no fear ! " 
 
 VI 
 
 Then they saw two angels stand there, 
 
 Wax candles in their hand: 
 And Joseph of Arimathea 
 
 Between that twain did stand. 
 
 VII 
 
 " Now," said he, " servants of Jesu Christ 
 
 All three, you shall be fed 
 Afore this table with meats, more sweet 
 
 Than any knight ate," he said: 
 But when he had said it, he vanished away, 
 
 And the greater grew their dread.
 
 THE CITY OF SARRAS 43 
 
 VIII 
 
 Then came One from the Holy Grail, — 
 
 They saw his blood ; they knew the Light I 
 
 My knights, he said, my true children : 
 You shall taste of the Grail this night. 
 
 IX 
 
 Straightway Sir Galahad kneeled down, — 
 
 Sir Bors, and Sir Percival : 
 And they humbly received their Saviour 
 
 And partook of the Sancgreal. 
 
 Too sweet for earth its savour was ; — 
 
 Too marvellous to be told 
 Was the Mystery, and beyond man's sight 
 
 What the three knights saw unroU'd. 
 
 XI 
 
 This night, said he, you have seen much 
 
 But after Night, the Day ; 
 And here in the realm of Logris 
 
 The Sancgreal cannot stay.
 
 44 THE CITY OF SARRAS 
 
 XII i 
 
 You have seen this night your souls' desire ; 
 
 But there waits a Mystery 
 More strange, my knights, than you can think 
 
 Till to Sarras you sail the sea, — 
 
 XIII 
 
 Till you come where Joseph of Arimathea 
 
 Stood with me, face to face ; — 
 Till you stand in the City of Sarras, 
 
 In the Spiritual Place.
 
 SIR LAUNCELOT AND THE SANCGREAL 
 
 " Car iP n'or a nul pech'eour 
 Ne compaignie ne amour." 
 
 He found a chamber where the door was shut, 
 
 And thereto set his hand to open it; 
 And mightily he tried, and still might not : 
 
 And then he heard a voice which sang so sweet. 
 It seemed none earthly thing that he heard sing, 
 " Honour and joy be given 
 To the High King of Heaven ! " 
 
 It seemed none earthly thing that sung therein, 
 
 So sweet the voice, it near had made him greet, — 
 For well he knew his body, stained with sin, 
 Was for that mystic chamber all unmeet, 
 Wherein those voices rang, yes, choired and sang ; 
 "Honour and joy be given 
 To the High King of Heaven ! " 
 
 ^ i.e. le Greail." 
 
 45
 
 46 SIR LAUNCELOT & THE SANCGREAL 
 
 For well he knew that there the Sancgreal 
 Upon the board was set for sinless souls, 
 While the three rays shone sidelong down the 
 wall ; 
 While he without did kneel with many a stain, 
 And there to that hid noise he joined his voice, 
 " Pity and grace be given, 
 To me, lost child of Heaven ! " 
 
 With that he saw the chamber door unclose. 
 
 And out there shone a clearness and a light 
 As all the torches in the world that house 
 
 Had lighted and been borne there burning bright 
 About the Sancgreal, while sang they all, 
 
 " Honour and joy be given, 
 To the sweet lord of Heaven ! " 
 
 Oh, much he marvelled, and would enter in, 
 
 And cried, "Fair Father Jesu " in his need. 
 Remembering then men's woe and mortal sin 
 
 For which the Christ upon the Cross did bleed, — 
 Yes, crying still that prayer, he entered there, — 
 "Pity and grace be given 
 To me, poor knight of Heaven ! "
 
 SIR LAUNCELOT & THE SANCGREAL 47 
 
 Right so he entered, where the Sancgreal 
 
 Did shine to greet him ; but a gust of fire, 
 And a grim smoke, there smote and made him fall ; 
 
 It took his body's might, and all desire ; 
 He had no voice nor will, though they sang still, 
 " Honour and joy be given, 
 To the High King of Heaven ! " 
 
 Then many hands did raise and bear him out, 
 
 And there all night he lay, till morning time; 
 And many a day like dead lay Launcelot, 
 He heard no bell at matin or at prime : 
 Nathless he deem'd did sing, none earthly thing, 
 " Honour and joy be given 
 To the High King of Heaven ! " 
 
 Then came a day spring and a fair white dawn, 
 And he rose up, yet did not rise the same : 
 For all the bitterness and pain were gone : 
 
 For he who sinn'd the sin had borne the shame. 
 And seen the Sancgreal, and heard them call, 
 " Honour and joy be given 
 To the High King of Heaven ! "
 
 48 SIR LAUNCELOT & THE SANCGREAL 
 
 Oh now, frail sons of earth, who fell in sin ; 
 
 Learn from the piteous deed of this dread knight, 
 Beat at the door, and cry, and enter in, 
 
 And you shall win the Grail, and see the Light, 
 Yes, like none earthly thing, shall hear them sing, 
 " Honour and joy be given 
 To the High King of Heaven I "
 
 THE LAST SLEEP OF SIR LAUNCELOT 
 
 " Behold also this mighty champion, 
 Launceiot, peerless of knighthood, . . . tliat 
 sometime was so terrible." 
 
 Still asleep, and fast asleep, 
 
 The hermit-bishop lay, 
 And fell upon a great laughter 
 
 An hour before the day. 
 
 Therewith his fellowship arose, 
 And asked what ailed him then ? 
 
 " Alas ! " said he, " such joy was mine 
 As shall not be again. 
 
 " Here was Sir Launceiot with me, 
 
 And angels too, far more 
 Than there be men, that heav'd him up 
 
 To heaven's open door ! " 
 
 " Vexing of dreams, it is but dreams," 
 Said Bors. The bishop said, 
 
 " Yet go to Launcelot's bedside ! " 
 They go ; they find him dead. 
 
 49
 
 so LAST SLEEP OF SIR LAUNCELOT 
 
 Still asleep, and fast asleep, 
 Oh, sweet the smile he wore ! 
 
 Sir Launcelot lay fast asleep, 
 To waken never more. 
 
 Yes, there he lay, and smiled in sleep ; 
 
 And a sweetest savour rose : 
 But greater dolour none has heard. 
 
 Than the dole within that house. 
 
 Next day, the mass of requiem sung. 
 They lift for him his sword. 
 
 The same bier that bare Gwenevere, 
 Bare him to Joyous Garde. 
 
 And still asleep, and fast asleep. 
 
 His visage open laid. 
 Within the quire of Joyous Garde 
 
 Sir Launcelot lies dead.
 
 THE LAMENT OF SIR ECTOR DE MARIS 
 
 I 
 
 Thro' waste and steep, this seven year 
 
 Sir Ector seeks Sir Launcelot, 
 His flower of knights, his brother dear. 
 
 From Calabre to Gwent, he sought ; 
 
 Last home to Joyous Garde, he hight 
 By roads that once Sir Launcelot brought. 
 
 II 
 
 "What Hghts are they that burn all night, 
 
 Within the quire of Joyous Garde? 
 Sir Ector draws rein at the sight. 
 
 What songs are they to heaven's Lord ? 
 
 What singing men, that sing and pause? 
 Sir Ector doffs his helm and sword. 
 
 They sing no song of " Deo Laus " : 
 
 Sir Ector de Maris knows them not : 
 Yet, well they know his thrice-scarr'd brows. 
 
 51
 
 52 LAMENT OF SIR ECTOR DE MARIS 
 
 " There lies thy brother, Launcelot," 
 Sir Bors says, standing by the bier, 
 "That thou this seven year hath sought ! " 
 
 Through waste and steep, this seven year. 
 He sought ; and now he swoons to see 
 That face he sought lie on the bier. 
 
 The kneeling knights rise silently : 
 
 They bear him forth to the cool night-air 
 The summer night drinks from the sea. 
 
 Ill 
 
 When Ector woke, what anguish there 
 He made, what pity in him wrought : 
 His cries were more than heart can bear. 
 
 "Oh Launcelot, oh Launcelot, 
 
 Of Christian knights, the flower and head, 
 And there thou liest. Sir Launcelot. 
 
 " I will dare say," Sir Ector said, 
 
 " Of all men thou wert courtliest, 
 And the truest knight ever love bested.
 
 LAMENT OF SIR ECTOR DE MARIS $3 
 
 " Of a sinful man, thou wert the best, 
 
 That ever loved ; and of all, did ride 
 The lists full-arm'd, the goodliest. 
 
 " And thou were first in the battle-tide 
 
 To meet the spears ; yet, the gentlest man 
 That sate in hall by the ladies' side. 
 
 " And thou wert always the meekest one 
 
 That served thy lord in Camelot : 
 And the sternest knight, since wars began, 
 
 " Put spear in rest, or ever fought 
 
 With thy mortal foe : and there, how low, 
 How low, thou liest, Sir Launcelot ! " 
 
 The sorrow then, no man can know : 
 Weeping, complaining, without end. 
 For the noblest knight, the truest friend, 
 That ever into the grave did go.
 
 TIMOR MORTIS 
 
 "The thing that I feared is fallen upon me.* 
 
 When deadly flesh, oh knight, shall see 
 
 The spiritual things, 
 The samite cloth, the Mystery, 
 
 The long street where the wings 
 Of eagles are the minstrelsy, 
 
 And winnow death, like dust away 
 Upon a windy day. 
 
 Then, if thine arm, like Galahad, 
 
 And thy heart tremble too. 
 Heave up, oh knight, thy hands, full glad 
 
 To know the death he knew, 
 The samite drawn, the Grail unclad 
 Past Logris and beyond the sea 
 That sails to Ar'mathie. 
 
 There, healed and solaced by the Grail, 
 Thy wounds shall hurt not so : 
 
 54
 
 TIMOR MORTIS S5 
 
 But He, that Knight whom men did nail 
 
 Upon the tree shall show 
 Those wounds they made, that brow left pale 
 By death, which call and bid thee come 
 Safe, oh knight errant, home.
 
 THE SONG OF THE SEVEN CANDLES 
 
 Seven Candles round my bed, 
 (To the dafiiseh^ to the damsels) 
 
 Bring the salt and bring the bread ! 
 (To her damsels^ said the Queen.) 
 
 II 
 
 Then the curtains close (she said 
 To the damsels^ to the damsels) 
 
 Tell him Queen Gwenhwyfar's dead; 
 (To her damsels^ said the Que en ^ 
 
 III 
 
 Tell cruel Kai, Gwenhwyfar's pride 
 (To the damsels^ to the damsels) 
 
 Like a Queen's waxed as she died : 
 (To her damsels.^ said the Queen.) 
 
 S6
 
 SONG OF THE SEVEN CANDLES si 
 
 IV 
 
 Yet sadly, too, her fates led on 
 {To the damsels^ to the damsels) 
 
 To the far coasts of Avalon : 
 
 {To her damsels^ said the Queen?) 
 
 Tell cruel Kai, with small content, 
 {To the damsels^ to the da?nsels') 
 
 She left the beechen leaves of Gwent ; 
 {To her damsels^ said the Queen?) 
 
 VI 
 
 Yet making haste for pride {she said 
 To the damsels, to the damsels') 
 
 Gwenhwyfar died ere she was dead : 
 {To her damsels^ said the Queen?) 
 
 VII 
 
 Now from her wake let Kai begone 
 {To the damsels^ to the da?nsels) 
 
 To the Haut King in Caledon : 
 {To her dajnsels^ said the Queen?)
 
 58 SONG OF THE SEVEN CANDLES 
 
 VIII 
 
 But first, before he leave, {she said 
 To the damsels^ to the damsels') 
 
 Offer him the salt and bread : 
 (To her damsels^ said the Queen.) 
 
 IX 
 
 If he will eat my sins for me 
 (To the darns els, to the damsels) 
 
 Kai's soul is lost and mine goes free 
 (To her damsels^ said the Queen.) 
 
 My soul is mine in Avalon, 
 
 (To the damsels., to the damsels) 
 
 But Kai's must war in Caledon : 
 (To her damsels., said the Queen.) 
 
 XI 
 
 Seven passions, seven wars, 
 
 (To the damsels^ to the damsels) 
 
 Seven candles, seven stars, 
 
 (To her damsels., said the Queen.)
 
 SONG OF THE SEVEN CANDLES 59 
 
 XII 
 
 Seven candles round the bed 
 
 (To the damsels, to the damsels) 
 Bring the salt and bring the bread I 
 
 (To her damsels^ said Gwenhwyfar, 
 Laughed and wept and cried the Queen.)
 
 THE LAY THAT HAD NO END 
 
 " Puis comence le iengleor Bloys 
 Deslaiaux de mort du roy : 
 Mais porquoi porqoi on dit. 
 Sanz fin james laisser ci." 
 
 " Then begins the jongleur of Blois his lays 
 of the King's death. But one keeps saying, 
 'Why, why?' all the while: and this song 
 is left for ever without an end." 
 
 " The sun sank red, the moon as red 
 As blood did rise o'er Caerbre town ; 
 
 The King,"' he sang. " But Bloys,'' I said, 
 " Come tell me where is Caerbre town ? " 
 
 II 
 
 " The Haut King, red with blood, returned 
 From Barendown's fire, and came therein 
 
 To die," he sang. " What in him burned, 
 
 Dark Mordreds death ? or Gwenevere's sin ? " 
 
 60
 
 THE LAY THAT HAD NO END 6i 
 
 III 
 
 "They buried in his blood the dead ; 
 
 But One bore water there to save 
 The King," he sang. " But Bloys;' I said, 
 
 " Where lies indeed the Haut King's grave ?
 
 THE UNFINISHED BOOK OF BLEISE 
 
 « 
 
 All the battles that were won 
 
 Merhn bade his master, Bleise, 
 Put on parchment. Caerleon, — 
 
 Blazoned round with crimson rays 
 Was that page of night and sun : 
 
 And the siege of He Maleise, — 
 Black and purple, marching on. 
 
 But when he wrote the fierce assays 
 The Haut King had in Caledon, 
 
 The letters fought : the rampant A's, 
 The S's all awry — each one 
 
 Recall'd the burning tower of Pase, 
 Wherein the knights in agony spun. 
 
 For so the letters twirl'd, till Bleise 
 Left Merlin's book of wars undone. 
 
 Yet fame hath still her splendent ways : 
 Camlan, — Cardoile, — Caerleon — 
 
 Still shall keep the Haut King's praise 
 
 Sounding to the end of days. 
 
 62
 
 ARTHUR'S GRAVE 
 
 THE EPITAPH 
 
 Some men do say King Arthur is not dead, 
 But by the will of our Lord Jesu sleeps, 
 Yet to awake, deathless, and reassure us : 
 And therefore is it, that grave where he is laid 
 This legend hath, that still his kingdom keeps 
 ^rthurus '^zx (5Juoni)am, ^cxqiie Jfuturue. 
 
 63
 
 THE CASTLE SPEAKS 
 
 My knights in helm and jesseraunt, 
 That hurled the ladder from the wall, 
 Then watched it fall; 
 My men that heard the trumpet taunt, 
 What dust has closed your high accompt. 
 
 II 
 
 And you, young maids, who rustled by 
 To kneel within my embrasure. 
 And there inure 
 Your hearts to steel as death drew nigh, 
 What dust is that where you do lie? 
 
 Ill 
 
 And where's the sword of Hugh the Good 
 
 And where's the heart of Fitzhamon 
 
 Who to the bone 
 
 Stript Jestyn, — yes, of every rood ? 
 
 What dust has drunk up Eynon's blood ? 
 64
 
 THE CASTLE SPEAKS 65 
 
 IV 
 
 Only this mist and white halt-moon 
 That fill the harvest-fields again 
 With sheaves like men, 
 Can give them now, as night draws on, 
 A homeless resurrection. 
 
 I was their House of Majesty : 
 
 They were my children, — guest and host : 
 And they are dust : 
 Look out, my stones that last, and see 
 Where in the mist their souls may be ? 
 
 E
 
 THE SONG OF THE APPLE 
 
 " Apple, red apple, 
 Growing on the bough, 
 What is your solace 
 The while you do grow ? " 
 
 This for my solace^ 
 Growing in the leaf : 
 In the Garden of Eden^ 
 I tempted Eve. 
 
 " Apple, red apple. 
 Growing on the tree, 
 What was Eve thinking. 
 When she took of thee ? " 
 
 Thinking of nothing 
 But Adam was Eve. 
 But when she had eaten 
 She hid in the leaf. 
 
 46
 
 THE SONG OF THE APPLE 67 
 
 " Apple, red apple, 
 The same that Eve knew, 
 What then shall ail me, 
 To take of thee too ? " 
 
 Take now, and eat now, 
 Taste me, and see : 
 Ton shall know all the sorrow 
 Eve took from the tree. 
 
 " Apple, red apple ? " 
 
 No more could she say. 
 The girl from the orchard 
 Went weeping away.
 
 ST DAVID AND THE SORROWS 
 
 Now David goes to Solva field, 
 
 To drink the early summer's peace, 
 The oak his shield 
 Against the noontide fervencies. 
 
 The daisies are his wondering eyes. 
 
 To see the holy unseen things 
 
 Of earth and skies : 
 
 The ardent swallows are his wings. 
 
 "Green herbs," he said, "to heal my mind; 
 The sky is my soul's firmament : 
 And here I find 
 My heart its last terrene content. 
 
 "The living south-wind in the leaves 
 Is hke a lovely thought, 
 That going grieves 
 To go; but staying, stays unsought." 
 
 68
 
 ST DAVID AND THE SORROWS 69 
 
 But there's a footfall by the tree, 
 
 Soft as the wind's, though no wind's noise 
 So sad could be, 
 When in his ear breaks Sanau's voice. 
 
 She tells him of five bloody deaths : 
 Of Kynon, by the lime-kiln found. 
 Her deep-drawn breaths 
 Paint the red-scythe, the dreadful wound. 
 
 And of the mother near St Bride's, 
 
 With three babes murdered in their bed, 
 (She tells besides,) 
 The blood-stain on each innocent head. 
 
 The dreamer wakes. Ah, who shall keep 
 For even one white lovely hour 
 His heart asleep 
 When sorrows call, when Death has power .? 
 
 Now David leaves the Druid's tree, 
 And by her side from that green place 
 Goes silently, — 
 Not peace, but pity in his face.
 
 70 ST DAVID AND THE SORROWS 
 
 The Sorrows call ; and David goes 
 Into the human world again 
 Of hopes and woes : 
 So must we all, both saints and men.
 
 THE FLOWER MAIDEN 
 
 They could not find a mortal wife, 
 And made him one of flowers : 
 
 Her eyes they made of violets, 
 Wet with their morning showers. 
 
 They took the blossom of the oak, 
 The blossom of the broom. 
 
 The blossom of the meadowsweet, 
 To be her body's bloom. 
 
 But they forgot from mother-earth 
 
 To beg the kindling coal : 
 They made for him a wife of flowers,- 
 
 But they forgot the soul. 
 
 71
 
 KERFS DAUGHTER 
 
 Alone I go a-hunting, when all their hunting's 
 
 done, 
 To follow Ken's daughter in the footsteps of the 
 
 sun. 
 
 She drowses all the day thro', she wakens with 
 
 the moth ; 
 And shakes out her black tresses from their 
 
 crimson binding cloth. 
 
 Their beauty that she braided falls loose now to 
 
 her knees, 
 As she goes to her window, and wonders at the 
 
 trees. 
 
 Her eyes shine in the shadow, grown opal-like, 
 
 and change 
 Like pools that fill with starlight when other lights 
 
 grow strange. 
 72
 
 KERI'S DAUGHTER ^^ 
 
 Now on the stair, bare-footed, she stays to gird 
 
 her gown, 
 That it may let the briars be ; — and Hghtly she 
 
 goes down. 
 
 What fate's on Keri's daughter, to wake when all 
 
 is done. 
 And follow where the sun went, but never see 
 
 the sun ? 
 
 What fate's on me to follow along the fields of 
 
 night, 
 The feet of Keri's daughter, yet never cross her 
 
 sight ? 
 
 II 
 
 The wind is her white brachet, to course the 
 
 wood with her, 
 Where the oak trees are tall, and the lone stars 
 
 lean near. 
 
 The oak leaves cannot keep her, her white hound 
 
 draws her on : 
 The livelong night, they range the night : until 
 
 the night is done.
 
 74 KERI'S DAUGHTER 
 
 I ride into the mid-wood, and wait. What frag- 
 rance clings 
 
 Upon the dreaming fernleaf, and the muffled, 
 drowsy things. 
 
 Is that an owl upon the hill, or is it her white 
 
 hound, 
 To tell me I must leave the wood, and follow at 
 
 the sound? 
 
 But when we reach the hilltop, we hear them in 
 the wood ; 
 
 And when we turn, we turn too late : the moor- 
 land is her mood. 
 
 Ill 
 
 I have a horse of fire, bred by an ancient 
 
 groom ; 
 His hoofs are not of water, and he can ride to 
 
 doom. 
 
 But when he takes the hillside, where the twin 
 
 torrents pour : 
 I hear, far down the aber, her hound bay by the 
 
 shore.
 
 KERrS DAUGHTER 75 
 
 I hold my breath with rapture, I ride to the salt 
 
 strand ; 
 The spotted waves, hke leopards, run on the 
 
 yellow sand. 
 
 The seamews talk like children : the moon says, — 
 
 " Here she gave 
 Her white feet to the water, her white hand to 
 
 the wave ! " 
 
 But the sewmews talk together: ''The creature is 
 
 gone home, 
 Her feet bear thro' the rushes soft flakes of sandy 
 
 foam." 
 
 I wheel about : the strand grows grey : the night 
 
 is nearly run : 
 And Keri's daughter flies for home long hours 
 
 before the sun. 
 
 IV 
 
 All night-things : stars, dark water, benighted oak 
 
 and fir. 
 The white moth and the brown moth, — they all 
 
 are friends to her.
 
 ^^ KERFS DAUGHTER 
 
 The sleeping leaves dream of her, as she goes 
 
 thro' the grasses, 
 The flower asleep thinks her white feet are flowers 
 
 as she passes. 
 
 Now, on the windy hilltop, her hair like wafted 
 
 smoke. 
 Draws all the darkness after her, to be her 
 
 beauty's cloak. 
 
 I feel it brush upon my cheek, I grasp at my 
 
 delight ; 
 The morning-star looks cold on me, across the 
 
 tops of night. 
 
 It speaks of night beyond the night, and stars on 
 
 stars behind 
 The moon, that make a morning at midnight in 
 
 her mind. 
 
 I know the darkness as I ride is different to her 
 
 eyes, 
 That see in every sleeping leaf, a light, a ray to 
 
 rise.
 
 KERI'S DAUGHTER ^^ 
 
 And every leaf she brushes by, takes of her leave 
 
 to bloom, 
 The birch, the broody horn-beam, the star-dew 
 
 and the broom. 
 
 And if the frost come at his hour, for her each 
 
 crystal fine 
 Holds a white chamber in it, and a virgin lamp to 
 
 shine. 
 
 At day I ask the salmon, and the speechless birch 
 
 and fern, — 
 Which road, to overtake her, my horse and I must 
 
 turn. 
 
 I spur my horse, I tremble, as I go riding 
 
 on; 
 And track the mountain torrent : too late : I see 
 
 the dawn. 
 
 If she should see us ride behind, — or the sun sit 
 
 on his height. 
 Know, she would range no longer in her mysterious 
 
 night.
 
 78 KERFS DAUGHTER 
 
 Then I should keep the white-limb'd girl within 
 
 my ordered house 
 And let her hunt no longer, with her black cloak 
 
 flying loose. 
 
 Oh, it is well to follow, but not to overtake. 
 The maiden in her mystery, for the white spirit's 
 sake. 
 
 But night bring back my hunting, for I would 
 
 rather ride 
 In vain for Keri's daughter, than win the world 
 
 beside.
 
 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK
 
 '•' Nat a leafe or bios' m, nat a quiet beam of light e, 
 but hath its musicke in her secret herte. " 
 
 [The Tale of BlauncheJlour.'\
 
 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 8i 
 
 I. THE ROSES OF KNOCKADOON 
 
 In Knockadoon 
 There is a rose garden : 
 Long ago, late and soon, 
 Young Crania walked there : 
 In Knockadoon. 
 
 II 
 
 To Knockadoon rose garden, 
 
 Under the white moon. 
 Hoping its light would show you 
 
 A child still, not a woman, 
 You went, — I dreamt you went there, 
 Crania ! — to Knockadoon. 
 
 In Knockadoon rose garden, 
 
 You walked, in ecstasy : 
 And each white rose you gathered 
 
 Under the blessed moonlight. 
 That freed the soul within it, — 
 
 A spirit, left its tree.
 
 Si CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 But the yellow rose stood singing, 
 
 And folded in its palms 
 Mysterious scrips of music, 
 
 Old immemorial music 
 Written on yellow parchment, 
 
 And Brigid's Irish psalms. 
 
 But the red rose, whose soul is 
 
 For pity and delight. 
 Most like the soul of woman, 
 
 Her beauty and her sorrow : 
 Looked black above the grass there, 
 
 Black, black in the moonlight. 
 
 Ill 
 
 In Knockadoon, 
 
 I know the roses knew you, 
 
 That sang St Brigid's tune : 
 
 And the white rose freed its fragrance 
 
 For you, — in Knockadoon. 
 
 But the Black Rose, 
 
 That changed her face, — 
 
 And let the white moon close 
 
 Her redness up : she told me 
 
 This, that Brigid knows.
 
 THE ROSES OF KNOCKADOON 83 
 
 In Knockadoon, 
 
 The Rose that you loved, 
 
 Crania, in the sun — under the moon ; 
 
 When you came back a woman, 
 
 Brooded, in Knockadoon. 
 
 IV 
 
 The roses, Grania, — dreamers ! 
 
 Under the blessed moon 
 
 They have felt so much, they told me, — 
 
 For those that lived once with them 
 
 Shared so, dreamt so, spent so 
 
 Their souls, colour and fragrance : 
 
 They are not like other flowers : 
 
 It is many a year since you went so, — 
 Went in the moon of midsummer; 
 But they sing, and they brood, and remember 
 You, Grania, in Knockadoon.
 
 84 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 II. THE CHAMBER OF ECSTASY 
 
 When you, at your white house, 
 
 Open the door, 
 Leaves, blown from many boughs. 
 
 Are on the floor. 
 
 When you, then, climb the stair 
 
 To your white room ; 
 Grass-scented streams of air 
 
 Purge out the gloom. 
 
 Two windows, east and west, 
 
 Lend it white light : 
 One loves the morning best, 
 
 One looks for night. 
 
 One sees the morning march 
 
 The mountain tops : 
 One sees the twilight arch 
 
 The oaken copse.
 
 THE CHAMBER OF ECSTASY 85 
 
 And your white doves that are 
 
 Warmed in your breast, 
 Out of each window far 
 
 Fly, east and west.
 
 86 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 III. MORNINC LICHT 
 
 The light is woven about you, 
 
 Yellow and purple and red, 
 All woven into a whiteness, 
 And gathered in elf-knot and crystal, 
 
 Like the blossom the white-thorn shed. 
 
 The light is your garment about you 
 
 As you go walking by 
 With your look of pity and brightness 
 By the dewdrops that glisten around you, 
 
 I dream you are dropt from the sky. 
 
 The light is woven about you : 
 
 Yellow and purple and red, 
 Enwoven into a whiteness ; 
 But the rarest rays, and the fairest, 
 
 Make the halo for your head.
 
 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 87 
 
 IV. THE WONDER OF THE WORLD 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF ARTEMISIA 
 
 When Artemisia and Mausolos rode 
 
 Out of the Carian gate, their chariot wheels 
 O'ercame the world, till its great spaces flow'd 
 Like air away ; while on their horses' heels, 
 Like the one cloud of whitest fire 
 
 That brings the god again, 
 Their chariot hurl'd, to match their swift 
 desire ; 
 And so went quickly from those Carian 
 men. 
 
 It went away yet left a radiance there : 
 Love's perfect apparition cannot fade. 
 Their passionate chariot still upon the air 
 
 Hung like a cloud, and driven on, still staid, — 
 As if each chang'd and fading ray 
 
 Resumed its fervency. 
 Retook their splendour, while their train and 
 they 
 That gave it fire still rode on radiantly.
 
 S8 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 Oh, subtle fire : I never saw the South 
 
 Of Artemisia, never heard the cry 
 Of Carian men there, crying with the mouth 
 Of wonder on Mausolos, urging by 
 
 His high-neck'd horses. But the gleam 
 
 Of his great love and hers, 
 Caught in the marble cloud that dreams of 
 them, 
 Still gleams and Hghts those godlike 
 charioteers. 
 
 For Artemisia, when her dear lord died. 
 
 Drank his burnt ash, solv'd in a cup of wine, 
 And turned their chariot into stone, for pride 
 Of their undying Love, and cast a shrine, 
 The world's last wonder, on the air. 
 
 To tell in marble rhyme 
 What Artemisia and Mausolos were. 
 
 Who Death o'ersway, though dead, and 
 conquer Time. 
 
 Ill days, ill fates, I know, have rent the stone 
 And caught away its crest of loveliness ; 
 
 But Artemisia's heart goes beating on 
 In the hurt marble, as beneath the dress
 
 THE WONDER OF THE WORLD 89 
 
 Of some sad maid the bosom heaves 
 
 The silk-like gossamer. 
 By that dire loss for which the lover grieves 
 
 Love's heart is known. And so it was 
 with her. 
 
 The thrust of Time can never bear away 
 Mausolos' majesty, nor break the heart 
 Of Artemisia. No, the dream shall stay, 
 Though marble perish — of eternal art. 
 
 Of Love, — of Love like theirs. And when 
 
 We stoop before dark fate. 
 Let us still turn, like those forgotten men, 
 To watch the Lovers leave the Carian 
 gate. 
 
 Still from the stone they breathe the ardent 
 breath 
 Of Love undying ; still their chariot, hurl'd 
 Into a South beyond the cast of Death, 
 
 Bears on their impassioned faith, to show the 
 world. 
 Beyond Time's wreck, the undying fire, — 
 
 And give us, if we be 
 Of pulse too weak, a splendour of desire 
 For more than goes with torn mortality.
 
 go CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 This, the world's wonder, Artemisia gave : 
 Because she loved Mausolos deathlessly. 
 So come, all Lovers I to Mausolos' grave. 
 
 And say, — " All fades ; but Love the Mystery 
 Since spirits master Time, fares unafraid 
 
 To its supreme abode, 
 Past Fate, and Night, and Death the darker 
 shade, — 
 As Artemisia and Mausolos rode I "
 
 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 91 
 
 V. TO CRANIA IN IRELAND 
 
 There is an island in your eyes, 
 
 Lies very far from me : 
 It broods among its seas and skies, 
 Blue as the woodbells that surprise 
 
 The unfledged April tree. 
 
 There is the Isle of Apple-trees, 
 The ship must sink to reach : 
 Its firagance, blown across the seas, 
 Tells of the light bright mysteries. 
 The bloom above the beach. 
 
 And in its light and deep delight, 
 
 Shining and dreaming on, — 
 Each flower finds its beam, each night 
 Its morning star, and exquisite 
 Crey pearl of dawn. 
 
 The seaman hears the waves that break, 
 
 And sees the apple-bloom : 
 Ah, dare he think that for his sake 
 The island-wave, the blossom, ache 
 
 With sorrow for his doom ?
 
 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 Because of sorrow, Paradise 
 Stepped to a nearer star : 
 The far-off island in your eyes, 
 Too lonely in its deeps and skies, 
 Is nearer by a tear.
 
 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 93 
 
 VI. MAIDEN-WOOD 
 
 (^ woman groivn^ goes Grania now 
 
 Again to Maiden-wood ; 
 And stands as silent in its heart 
 
 As a nun in Holy Rood.) 
 
 She said, " I am made silent, 
 
 By this mysterious wood ; — 
 
 There are brown, beneath the green, leaves 
 
 And they were once the green leaves : 
 
 And the brown leaves fill my mood." 
 
 And then I heard her weep there, 
 Within the Maiden-wood ; 
 For she saw how all the green leaves, 
 Must very soon be brown leaves. 
 And end their maidenhood ! 
 
 And then I heard her laugh there, 
 Within the Maiden-wood ; 
 For the wind caressed the brown leaves. 
 The green leaves bowed to the brown leaves 
 And the brown leaves understood.
 
 94 GRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 VII. L'ENVOI: 
 
 THE MIRROR OF ROMANCE 
 
 I KNOW this Irish wind, by every cry, 
 
 Three years ago, it cried on Garadice, 
 Waving green boughs to us as we sailed by 
 And looked to see the lawns of Paradise 
 Deep in mid-lake : but only met the eyes 
 Of our twin-selves, that saw mysteriously 
 In our blown boat and blowing wind far more than 
 we could see. 
 
 Had we known, then, all our twin-creatures there 
 Knew, — known all our imminent boat bore 
 on, 
 Balanced upon the flood and flowing air — 
 We must have turned, afraid as we wore on, 
 Fearing the course that wild wind had fore- 
 gone : 
 We did not know, as we sailed, gazing 
 down. 
 And only saw your eyes gaze up, your eager hair 
 wind-blown .''
 
 L'ENVOI 
 
 95 
 
 This day the wind may blow as it did then ; 
 
 But I am older ; you are altered too, 
 A change not felt by mighty winds, but men 
 And women, who have loved and faltered too 
 Looking for heav'n, to find as they must do 
 Only themselves, their souls and their own 
 day, 
 Mirrored in waters of romance, a thousand years 
 away. 
 
 In those dire years, day after day, when dread 
 Stood at the door, you know how dreading 
 still 
 Worse days to come, I looked at life, then read, 
 In books of old romance, and reading still 
 Of Caerleon town, Sarras and Merlin's Hill, 
 
 I drew from Arthur's wound a dreadful 
 spear, 
 And saw your sad eyes find themselves in those of 
 Gwenevere. 
 
 And all that know To-day in Yesterday, 
 
 And know men's masks may change, — but never 
 men
 
 96 CRANIA'S ROMANCE-BOOK 
 
 Will find the heart beat fast here in each lay, 
 Of them that loved, and lived forever then, 
 Tvi^in-souls that look with our own eyes again 
 Out of the water of that faerie lake, 
 That mirrors earth and heav'n-on-earth for love 
 and human sake. 
 
 TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS. EDINBURGH
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN U *. >.
 
 AA 000 641355 3 
 
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 3 1210 01285 3162