TALES FROM 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. Go C. ALLEN, H,A., 
 
 Head aSasteT at Ccaalsigl! S«lioo3, 
 
 GUILDFOBD: A. C. CURTIS. 
 
 WESTMINSTER : 
 
 ARCHIBALD COMSTABLE AND CO. 
 
A31 
 
 A^£L 
 
!94t 
 
 LB^]-ip- 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 '^.^'^ 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 PR 5558.A37A42 
 
 Tales from Tennyson. 
 
 3 1924 013 559 244 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 3559244 
 
TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 THE REV. dfcfALLEN, M.A. 
 
 Head Master of Cranleigh School 
 
 GUILDFORD : A. C. CURTIS 
 
 WESTMINSTER 
 
 ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. 
 
 1900 
 
f\H\c|56^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION VU 
 
 I. THE COMING OF ARTHUR . II 
 
 II. GARETH AND LYNETTE - 21 
 
 III. THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT (PARTS I. AND II.) 35 
 
 IV. LANCELOT AND ELAINE - 57 
 V. THE HOLY GRAIL - 79 
 
 VI. THE ENl> OF THE ROUND TABLE, AND THE 
 
 PASSING OF ARTHUR 95 
 
 NOTES 108 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The ' Tales ' in this volume are an attempt to put within 
 the reach of younger readers the substance of the cycle 
 of Arthurian romance which is contained in Tennyson's 
 ' Idylls of the King,' preserving as far as possible both 
 the letter and the spirit of the late Laureate's work, with 
 some ' faint Homeric echoes ' of the ancient chronicles 
 that forni the basis of each story. It is hoped that these 
 ' Tales ' may effect two objects dear to the writer's heart 
 —one, that they may induce the few who look at them 
 to read the ' Idylls of the King ' for themselves, if they 
 have not already done so, and to re-read them if they 
 have ; the other, that they may awaken some further 
 interest in the legendary history of that mysterious King 
 whose name, as we tramp or cycle through the British 
 Isles in our holiday rambles, starts up before us from hill 
 and crag, cairn and cromlech, and grassy mound, and has 
 become a household word to most of us from the fairy- 
 tales of the nursery. 
 
 Who was King Arthur? Was there ever a King 
 Arthur at all ? If so, when did he live, and what was 
 he like ? Let us look at these questions in the light 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 thrown on them by a well-known living critic* ' Regard- 
 ing Arthur,' he says, ' little of real fact has been ascer- 
 tained; all that modern research can tell us with any 
 certainty is that there was, in the sixth century, a war- 
 leader in Britain called Artus, or Arthur, who, after the 
 departure of the Romans, headed the tribes of Cumbria 
 and Strath Clyde against the encroaching Saxons, Picts 
 and Scots ; and that five or six centuries later the name 
 of King Arthur had come to stand for an ideal of royal 
 wisdom, chivalric virtue, and knightly prowess.' 
 
 There seems no reason to doubt that the legends have 
 a historic basis ; in fact, so widely and indelibly is the 
 name of Arthur stamped upon the map of the British 
 Isles, from ' Arthur's Seat ' by Edinburgh, to Arthur's 
 Castle of Tintagil in Cornwall, that the question seems 
 not so much whether there was an Arthur at all, but 
 whether there were not more Arthurs than one. This 
 possibility is suggested by Judge Hughes in his ' Scouring 
 of the White Horse ' (see his discussion of the probable 
 origin of the ' Dragon's Hill '). Sir Thomas Malory, 
 who in 1470 collected the Arthurian legends into the 
 fanious ' Morte d' Arthur,' is at pains to identify some of 
 the place-names given in the old stories with names 
 existing in his own day : thus, Camelot, the Royal City, 
 is Winchester ; Astolat, the home of the ' lily maid 
 Elaine,' is Guildford in Surrey ; and throughout the book 
 the scenes of the adventures are localized over the length 
 and breadth of the land. No historical value can, of 
 course, be assigned to these adventures or their localities ; 
 but we may gather that in Malory's time, no less than 
 in our own, the traveller came everywhere upon places 
 
 * Professor F. J. Rowe, Introduction to the ' Idylls of the King' 
 (Macmillan) . To the suggestive criticism of this essay the present 
 sketch is largely indehted. 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 full of Arthurian memories. From Bamborough Castle 
 in Northumberland, which claims to be Lancelot's 'Joyous 
 Gard,' from ' merry Carlisle ' and ' red Penrith's Table 
 Round,' to Caerleon-on-Usk with its Round Table in 
 Monmouthshire, King Arthur's name is ' in the air.' 
 Then crossing the Severn estuary, we find ourselves in a - 
 storehouse of Arthurian myth and romance: Somerset- 
 shire, with its Cadbury Castle, rivalling the claims of 
 Winchester to be the genuine Camelot, and Glastonbury, 
 the traditional ' island-valley of AviUon,' and the birth- 
 place of the Grail legend ; and so on through Devon- 
 shire, the home of Geraint and Enid, down past the 
 ' thundering shores of Bude and Bos,' to ' dark Tintagil 
 by the Cornish sea,' and the ' utmost bounds of Lyon- 
 nesse,' now sunk beneath the western wave. Roughly 
 speaking, it is in the western or Celtic half of our island 
 that these traditions abound ; and it seems probable that 
 the Celtic tribes, as they retreated or shifted their abodes 
 before the advancing Saxons, took their legends and 
 memories with them, and that these grew and clung 
 round whatever resting-places the wanderers ultimately 
 found. We know that some of the Britons fled across 
 the Channel, and accordingly we are not surprised to find 
 the scenes of some of the events laid in Brittany ; Merlin's 
 doom, for example, comes upon him in the Breton forest 
 of Broceliande. But it must be remembered that the 
 legends as we have them in the ' Morte d' Arthur ' are 
 anachronisms, pure and simple ; the Celtic chieftain, and 
 his warriors of Roman Britain, have been transformed 
 into the Anglo-Norman knights-errant of the age of 
 chivalry and the Crusades ; and all the pomp and circum- 
 stance of heraldry, the tournament and feudal life with 
 which Malory himself was familiar, are antedated by 
 some six or seven centuries. Tennyson himself has 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 carried the anachronism still further ; in order to suit the 
 great purpose of his poem — half epic, half allegory — he 
 has idealized the characters, and invested thetai with much 
 of the moral and mental qualities of modern life, with 
 thought and language wholly foreign to the medieval 
 society in which Malory lived and moved. And in the 
 twelve Idylls which form the poem he has achieved 
 this great result : he has reduced to law and order and 
 coherency the desultory and often wearisome compilations 
 of the earlier writers, and has given the story of Arthur 
 an epic unity, a spiritual significance, and a moral purpose. 
 To compare it for a moment with the other great epic of 
 our language, the story of Arthur, as told by Tennyson, 
 is in some respects a story of ' Paradise Lost ' ; it is a 
 story of a creation, fair and good in its beginning, noble 
 in its conception and formation, ruined for the time by 
 the insidious taint of one great sin and the corruption 
 which spreads from it, concluding in apparent defeat and 
 failure, but giving a presage of ultimate recovery, of the 
 final overthrow of evil and victory of good. 
 
 A few words are added by way of preface to each of 
 the ' Tales,' which may help to bring out their inner 
 meaning, and to show the development of the poet's 
 design. It will be noted, however, that it has not been 
 found possible in all cases to treat each Idyll as a separate 
 tale, and that some Idylls have necessarily been omitted 
 as unsuitable for the main object with which this book 
 has been written. 
 
I. 
 
 THE COMING OF ARTHUR 
 
The Coming of Arthur describes the mystery surrounding 
 the King's birth, the founding of the Order of the Round Table, 
 the marriage of Arthur with Guinevere, and his triumph over 
 the heathen invaders, which enabled him to ' make a realm, 
 and reign.' 
 
I, 
 
 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 
 
 In tHe days when the Romans had left Britain because 
 they needed all their strength to defend their own land 
 against the heathen of the North, there dwelt at Cameliard, 
 in Southern Wales, a King called Leodogran ; and his one 
 daughter Guinevere was -the fairest of all maidens in the 
 world. But all the land was without rule and governance, 
 for though there were many petty kings, yet each -spent 
 all his force and time in waging war on others, and the 
 hosts of the heathen came from over seas, and wild beasts 
 grew and multiplied so that the whole fair country of 
 Britain became a wilderness, and none might dwell in 
 peace. Here and there some kings arose, and strove to 
 bring the realm under one rule, such as Aurelius, sur- 
 named Ambrosius or Emrys, and Uther Pendragon ; but 
 none could make the kingdom one until for a space 
 Arthur came, and drew under himself all the lesser 
 principaUties, and beat back the heathen, and established 
 justice and order in the land. 
 
 But it was many years ere this was accomplished, and 
 the King Leodogran, seeing his realm falling to waste 
 and ruin, and being assailed by his fellow-princes and by 
 
14 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 a host of heathen, sighed for the Roman legions to come 
 to his aid ; but all in vain, for the Romans had left the 
 land for ever. 
 
 Then he heard of the crowning of Arthur (who, some 
 said, was Uther Pendragon's son, but others denied it), 
 and sent word to him, saying, ' Come and help us.' So 
 Arthur came, and with him came many a famous knight. 
 He fought against the King's enemies, and overcame 
 them ; nor did he rest till he had slain the wild beasts 
 also that dwelt in the forests, and had reclaimed the waste 
 places, and made peace in all the borders of the realm. 
 And it befell that while Arthur was fighting the King 
 Leodogran's battles, certain of the lords and barons of 
 his own kingdom took up arms against him, saying, ' Who 
 is this stranger that he should rule over us ? He is no 
 son of Uther Pendragon, nor is he like to him in voice, 
 or face, or bearing ; he shall be no King of ours.' So 
 they joined themselves to Leodogran's enemies, and fought 
 against Arthur, and there was a great battle ; and now 
 Arthur prevailed, and now the rebels, till at the last 
 Arthur and his knighthood, by might and skill, and being 
 strong in the justice of their cause, broke the heathen 
 powers and routed them. Nevertheless, he would not 
 utterly make an end of them, but bade his men cease 
 from slaying, since the victory was won. Then the kings, 
 pHnces, and barons came and made submission to King 
 Arthur, and he let them go in peace. Glad at heart was 
 Arthur, and turning to his thief knight, Lancelot of the 
 Lake, whom most he loved and honoured, he said to 
 him, ' Right well hast thou fought for me this day ; let 
 us swear upon this field of battle a brotherhood that shall 
 endure till death, for there is none other that I trust as 
 thee.' So each swore to the other true faith and friend- 
 ship, and said Sir Lancelot, 'My liege, the fire of God 
 
THE COMING OF ARTHUR 15 
 
 descends upon thee in battle : there is no leader like to 
 thee — thou art indeed the King.' 
 
 ■ Now, Arthur had seen for the first time, at Leodpgran's 
 court, his daughter, the Princess Guinevere, and had 
 said within himself;: ' If God gives me the victory, she, 
 and none other, shall be my wife ;' and straightway 
 from tha battlefield he sent messengers to the King, 
 saying, ' If I have done thee good service, give me thy 
 daughter Guinevere to be my wife.' And Leodogran was 
 glad. Nevertheless, knowing the doubt there was of 
 Arthur's birth, and deeming it well that all the truth 
 should be known before he gave him his daughter (for 
 he would not yield her to any but a King and a King's 
 son), hei made question of the knights who were Arthur's 
 messengers, saying, ' What know ye of Arthur's birth ? 
 Whose son is he?' And the chief of them, the bbld 
 Sir Bedivere, made answer and said : 
 
 ' Sir King, there be many rumours, and most of them 
 are sprung of hate and envy ; but the truth is this : In 
 Uther's time there was a prince — Gorlois by name — who 
 dwelt with his wife Ygeme in the castle of Tintagil, by 
 the Cornish Sea. And King Uther would fain have had 
 Ygerne to be his wife. - But because she loved her lord 
 Gorlois, and would have none of Uther, there befell war 
 between Gorlois and the King, till at the last Gorlois 
 was slain. And Uther wedded Ygerne, sorely against 
 her will. Not many moons thereafter Uther died him- 
 self, and the Queen bare a son, whom Merlin, the wise 
 old seer that had been Uther's counsellor, took and 
 straightway hid, for fear of those who meant him mis- 
 chief, For there were many who had hated Uther, and 
 would have slain his son. But Merlin gave the babe 
 into the hinds of Sir Anton, an old and trusty knight, to 
 be reated with his own' children till the time was ripe for 
 
i6 ..TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 him to be shown and known. And this year Merlin 
 brought Arthur forth, and set him before the people, 
 saying, " Here is Uther's heir, your King," and had him 
 crowned. But some doubted, and the barons and great 
 lords banded together and made war, as thou hast seen.' 
 
 So Bedivere spoke ; and while the King still pondered, 
 being only half convinced, there cartie to Cameliard 
 ^ueen Bellicent, wife of King Lot, of Orkney. He had 
 joined the Barons in their war, but she, a daughter of 
 Ygerne and Gorlois, had always cleaved as a loyal sister 
 to Arthur ; and now she came with her two young sons, 
 Gawain and Modred, meaning to leave them with Arthur, 
 amongst his knights. The King told her of his doubts, 
 and asked of her what she knew, and whether Arthur 
 had strength to hold his own against his enemies. 
 
 ' I will tell thee,' she said, ' O King, all that I know ; 
 and first I will speak of the day when he was crowned 
 King, and made the Order of his Table Round. For I 
 was nea,r him as he sate on his dais-throne, and I heard 
 him as he spake to his own warriors, who stood close 
 about him, and bound them so straitly by vows of 
 faith, honour, and obedience to Christ and to himself, 
 making them lay their hands in his, and swear to 
 reverence their King as if he were their conscience, and 
 their conscience as their King, that they were amazed 
 and lifted up beyond themselves, and rose from where 
 they knelt as one by one he knighted them, as if the 
 power of God had come upon them through his words 
 and touch of hand. And beside him I saw three fair 
 Queens standing in silence near the throne. I know not 
 who they were, nor does any man know ; but they are 
 his friends who will help him at his need. And I saw 
 there' the mighty seer, the wizard Merlin, who lives but 
 to do him service. And standing beside the seer I saw 
 
THE COMING OF ARTHUR 17 
 
 also the Lady of the Lake, clothed in a robe of white 
 samite, mystic, wonderful. She it is who gave Arthur 
 his great sword Excalibur, wherewith to drive the 
 heathen from the land. Down in the deep waters she 
 hath her home, calm and untroubled by whatever storms 
 shake the world above ; howbeit she has power at' times 
 to walk upon the waters, as did our Lord. Also I beheld 
 the great sword Excalibur itself, her gift, borne before 
 him in the minster ; the sword that rose out of the bosom 
 of the lake, and Arthur rowed out to it and took it. 
 Bright with jewels is the hilt, and the blade as bright as 
 flame of fire, so that men are blinded by it. This sword 
 the King took by Merlin's coimsel, and with it he will 
 conquer his enemies.' 
 
 When Leodogran heard these words he was glad ; but 
 still he doubted. Wherefore he questioned Bellicent yet 
 inore closely, as being the daughter of Ygerne, and there- 
 fore likely to know the truth of Arthur's birth. But of 
 this she could tell him nothing certainly — only that she 
 and Arthur had known and loved each other in childhood 
 as sister and brother, brought together, she thought, by 
 Merlin, who watched over Arthur's early years. And as 
 for Merlin's part in the matter, there was another story, 
 which Merlin's old master Bleys had told her at his hour 
 of death. 
 
 Himself and Merlin, so he said, on the night of Uther's 
 ■death in Tintagil, had gone down in the darkness to the 
 seashore ; and suddenly they were aware of a great ship, 
 ■dragon-shaped, that bore a company of shining people, 
 riding on the waves, and anon it disappeared. Then, as 
 they watched, a great wave slowly heaved and fell plung- 
 ing at their feet ; and all the wave was in a flame of fire, 
 and in the wave was a babe that fell at Merlin's feet. 
 Jtle caught it up, and cried : ' Here is an heir for Uther.' 
 
 2 
 
i8 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 ' And,' said the dying magician, Merlin's master, ' this 
 same babe is he who now reigns ; and till I had told this 
 I might not die in peace.' Such was the seer's tale, and 
 anon thereafter he died. But, said Bellicent, 'when I 
 asked Merlin afterward of these things, and whether 
 Bleys's tale were truth, he laughed, and answered me in 
 mocking wise : " Truth is this to me, and that to thee. 
 Where is he who knows what is truth ? From the great 
 deep he came ; to the great deep he goes." ' 
 
 Her words left the King Leodogran but little less 
 perplexed than before ; but on the morrow, when he had 
 mused upon the whole matter, and also had seen in the 
 dreams of the night, when truth most often comes to 
 men, a vision of Arthur crowned, standing out against 
 the sky, while all his foes and cavillers melted like mists 
 before the morning sun, then the King sent for Bedivere 
 and his comrades, and bade them take back to Arthur 
 his answer, ' I give my daughter to thee.' 
 
 Then Arthur sent Lancelot, his chief knight and friend, 
 to bring his Queen to him ; and in the month of May 
 she came, and they two were wedded at Camelot by 
 Dubric, the saintly archbishop, chief of the Church in 
 Britain. And all the Knights of Arthur's Table stood 
 about their King and Queen, whilst the holy Dubric gave 
 his blessing on the marriage. Then the knights took up 
 the strain, and as they left the minster they sang before 
 the King ; ' Blow trumpets ! clang battleaxe ! clash 
 brand ! Let the King reign ! The King will follow 
 Christ, and we the King, in whom high God hath breathed 
 a secret thing. Let the King reign !' 
 
 So the procession passed on from the minster to the 
 banquet-hall. Then came there in some lords from 
 Rome — delegates of the Roman Emperor — to claim 
 tribute as of old. But Arthur said, ' Nay, the old order 
 
THE COMING OF ARTHUR 19 
 
 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 these great lords departed, and for a while there 
 was war with Rome. But Arthur and his Round Table 
 grew mightier day by day. In twelve great battles they 
 fought and overcame the heathen ; and through the 
 strength of their union Arthur drew in under him all the 
 lesser Kings and Princes, and made one realm of Britain, 
 and ruled it prudently with all his power. 
 
II. 
 
 GARETH AND LYNETTE 
 
In Gareth and Lynette we see the golden age of Arthur's 
 reign. His order 'of knights is as yet untainted by evil ; the 
 name of Guinevere does not occur throughout the story. His 
 warriors are loyal to their vows and to the King, and Gareth 
 himself is a type of chivalry in perfection ; he, like Lancelot, 
 is ' the very perfit gentil Knight.' 
 
II. 
 
 GARETH AND LYNETTE. 
 
 In the daysof King Arthur and his Round Table, the 
 goodUest fellowship of famous knights whereof this world 
 holds record, Bellicent, the King's sister, had married 
 Lot, the King of Orkney. They had three sons, Gawain, 
 Modred, and Gareth, of whom the two elder had gone to 
 their uncle Arthur's Court, and had been made com- 
 panions of the Round Table. But the youngest, Gareth, 
 was kept at home by the Queen, though sorely against 
 his will. His brethren came home from time to time, 
 and with their stories of th6 great King's battles, his 
 conquests over the heathen, the splendour of his Court, 
 and the gallant deeds of the Order, who were sworn to 
 live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King, th6y 
 fired the boy's heart with longing to exchange the dull 
 ignoble life of ease at home for the life of action, enter- 
 prise, and adventure under their great leader. To be a 
 ^ knight of Arthur, working out his will, to cleanse the 
 world' — that, and nothing less, would content him. 
 The good Queen-mother, who loved her youngest son 
 even beyond his brothers, would fain have kept him to 
 comfort her old age, since the King her husband was 
 
24 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 now too old to rule his kingdom, and many a time she 
 reasoned with Gareth in hope to persuade him to stay 
 contented by her side ; but all in vain. A life of com- 
 fort, tame and spiritless, following the deer, and marry- 
 ing, as she suggested, ' some comfortable bride and fair ' 
 — such a life had no charm for his young adventurous 
 spirit. ' Man am I grown, a man's work must I do. 
 Follow the deer ? Follow the Christ the King,' was 
 his answer, and nothing that she might say could turn 
 him from it. 
 
 So when she saw that she could prevail nothing, but 
 that all her words only made him the more eager to be 
 gone, she yielded him his wish. But before she granted 
 it she made a certain strange condition, a proof of his 
 obedience, and one which she hoped might have turned 
 him from his purpose. It was this : ' My son,' she said, 
 ' thou shalt go disguised to Arthur's Court, nor tell thy 
 name to anyone, and for a twelvemonth and a day thou 
 shalt serve among the scullions and the kitchen knaves, 
 and tend the meats and drinks like any of the bondmen 
 of the King.' But Gareth thought awhile and answered : 
 ' The thrall in person may be free in soul, and at least I 
 shall see the King and his knights. I take the offer, 
 mother, and give myself to serve in bondage for a twelve- 
 month and a day.' So he departed, taking with him two 
 of his own most faithful servants, and they journeyed 
 southward till they came to Camelot. It was a bright 
 spring morning, about' Whitsuntide, and the spires and 
 towers and pinnacles of the royal city gleamed in the 
 sunlight through the mist. A wondrous sight it was, 
 and as they looked they heard a blast of music, and an 
 old man came forth and asked them : ' Who be ye, my 
 sons?' Gareth told him: 'We be tillers of the soil, 
 come to see the glories of the King.' But his truthful 
 
GARETH AND LYNETTE 25 
 
 nature made his false tale betray itself, and the old man 
 said : ' Nay, but thou art not who thou seemest. I 
 know thee who thou art. Beware how thou dost mock 
 the King, who cannot brook the shadow of any lie.' He 
 left them at the city gate. Then Gareth entered, and 
 with his two companions made his way to Arthur's high- 
 built hall, and entering he saw the great King throned 
 at the furthest end, and all his knighthood ranged about 
 him, looking upon their chief with eyes of love and faith. 
 And as the King sate, the folk came before him with 
 pleas for aid and justice, and he heard their causes one 
 by one and delivered judgment, for it was the time when 
 every morning brought a noble chance, and every chance 
 brought out a noble knight, and none who cried for 
 succour cried in vain. Gareth was much in fear that 
 his brothers Gawain and Modred would see and recognise 
 him ; but as fortune would have it neither of them was 
 there, and at last he came forward leaning on the 
 shoulders of his two men, and made his request to 
 Arthur as his mother had bidden him to do. ' Grant 
 me,' he said, ' O King, to serve for meat and drink 
 among thy kitchen knaves a twelvemonth and a day, nor 
 let my name be known.' And the King looked at him, 
 and wondered that so goodly a youth should ask no 
 better boon, but called Sir Kay the seneschal, who had 
 control of the meats and drinks, and gave the young 
 man into his charge. Now, Sir Kay was a churlish 
 knight, and dealt hardly with Gareth, for he was envious 
 of the goodwill that King Arthur and Sir Lancelot bare 
 him, and because. Lancelot had noticed the fairness of 
 Gareth's hands and countenance, and pointed to them as 
 proof that he was nobly born, he called him ' Sir Fine- 
 face ' and ' Sir Fair-hands ' in mockery. And he made 
 him labour at all the most menial services, and was for 
 
26 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 ever harrying and hustling him with hard words. But 
 Gareth took it all patiently, and served with all obedience 
 and gentleness, giving cause of offence to none, so that 
 all loved him for his courtesy. And when there were 
 any sports or trials of strength among the thralls, he was 
 the best among them all in casting bar or stone ; but 
 most he loved to watch a joust of arms, to see the 
 knights charge and meet in mid-career, and the lances 
 splinter and the good horses reel with the shock of their 
 encounter. 
 
 So this went on for a month or more ; but then the 
 good Queen-mother, whose thoughts were set upon her 
 boy, touched with the grace of his obedience, repented 
 her of the twelvemonths' task that she had set him, and 
 sent a trusty messenger with horse and armour, and 
 released him from his vow. Blithe was Gareth, you 
 may guess, to hear the news, and straightway went he 
 to the King. He told his name and the reason of his 
 first request, and now prayed that he would make him 
 a knight, and give him the first adventure that should 
 come. And, lo ! he found that the great King knevi? all 
 his story, for the same messenger who brought arms for 
 Gareth had borne a letter from Queen Bellicent to the 
 King. 
 
 Then the King called Sir Lancelot, who was his most 
 trusted knight and counsellor, and knighted Gareth in 
 his presence. Also he told Lancelot, since Gareth was 
 not yet proven in arms, to follow him at a little space, 
 when he should ride on his first quest, to see that he 
 might not be taken prisoner or slain. 
 
 Now, it chanced that on the same day there came into 
 Arthur's hall a damsel of noble birth and fair to look 
 upon, and she cried to the King : ' Help, my lord O 
 King ! My name is Lynette. I seek aid for my sister. 
 
GARETH AND LYNETTE 27 
 
 the Lady Lyonors, who is beset in her home, the Castle 
 Perilous, by four knights, brethren. A river winds thrice 
 about the castle, and three of the brethren defend its 
 three passages ; the fourth, the mightiest of all, would 
 fain make her his bride, but she will none of him. Now, 
 therefore, send Lancelot with me, for no other may be 
 his match.' Said the King ; ' Lady, thou knowest I and 
 mine live to succour the opprest and right the wrong. 
 Who and of what fashion are these men?' 'Rather 
 wild beasts than men,' ^he maiden answered, ' and have 
 no law nor king but their own will ; and in their fantastic 
 folly the three have named themselves the Morning Star, 
 the Noon, and Evening Star ; but the fourth, a bestiai 
 savage, hath taken the name of Night and Death. Black 
 as night are his arms, his crest a death's-head, and his 
 strength is as the strength of ten. Therefore I come to 
 ask of thee Lancelot for the quest.' 
 
 All this Sir Gareth heard as he stood by, and he called 
 aloud : ' Grant me this quest, O King. Thou hast 
 promised me, who am thy kitchen knave, the first quest.' 
 And Arthur answered :' Go ; thou art worthy.' So 
 Gareth armed himself and followed the maiden, while all 
 his late comrades of the kitchen thronged to see him 
 pass, and cheered him lustily, for they loved him one 
 and all. 
 
 . But the maiden Lynette was sore ill-pleased at the 
 King's answer. ' For why,' said she, ' when I asked for 
 Lancelot, should he send a kitchen knave ? Much shame 
 is done thereby to me and mine.' But Gareth answered 
 her with all courtesy : ' Lady, the quest is mine. Do 
 thou lead on ; I follow, and will serve thee as best I 
 may.' ' Follow me, then, but from afar,' said she, ' lest 
 the foul savour of thy kitchen offend me.' So Gareth 
 followed where she led. Now, the seneschal, Sir Kay, 
 
28 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 had heard of Gareth's enterprise, and it vexed him 
 mightily that one who but now had been his thrall 
 should be made a fellow -knight — moreover, he was 
 envious of the favour that Lancelot showed to Gareth 
 — therefore he must needs get to horse and ride after 
 him, ' for,' said he, ' his pride needs humbling.' Nor 
 would he hearken to Lancelot, who told him he would 
 do better to leave Gareth alone ; but when he came up 
 with him, he cried aloud : ' Return ; we need thee by 
 the kitchen hearth. Dost not thou know thy master ?' 
 Then he made at Gareth, who met his charge, and flung 
 him heavily to the ground. There he was found not 
 long afterwards by Lancelot, who, as the King had bade 
 him, followed Gareth on his quest, and helped by 
 Lancelot he made his way painfully back to Camelot a 
 wiser and humbler man, nor do we hear of him again. 
 
 But the two, Lynette and Gareth, rode on till nearly 
 sunset through a pinewood, and an adventure befell them 
 therein, for they saw a knight fast bound, with a stone 
 about his neck, being haled along by six stout rogues, 
 who would have drowned him in a pool. And Gareth 
 rode at them, and with three blows slew three of them ; 
 but the others fled. He loosed the knight from his bonds, 
 and learnt from him that he was a friend of Arthur, who 
 made it his business to clear the wood of robbers. As 
 he had done to many of their fellows, so would these 
 knaves have done to him had not Gareth helped him in 
 his need. ' Glad am I,' said Gareth, ' to have done this 
 service ; but canst thou shelter this maiden in thy castle 
 for the night ?' ' Right willingly,' said the other, and 
 made them both welcome in his hall, setting Gareth and 
 the damsel on either side of him. But Lynette said : 
 ' This is not seemly that a kitchen-knave should sit at 
 meat with those of noble birth. No knight is he, but 
 
GARETH AND LYNETTE zg 
 
 some, thrall whom Arthur, gone suddenly mad, methinks, 
 sends on my quest ; a villain fitter to stick swine than to 
 ride abroad as of the Table Round.' This strange dis- 
 courtesy of the maiden amazed their host, and he said to 
 Sir Gareth : ' Friend, whether thou be gentle by birth or 
 simple I know not, nor greatly care ; but this I know, 
 that thou art brave and strong, and thou hast saved my 
 Ufe.' 
 
 So the next morning he set them on their way, and for 
 awhile they rode side by side, though Gareth still got 
 scant courtesy from Lynette. They came ere long to 
 the first passage of the winding river, and saw the 
 champion, the Morning Star, waiting beside his gay 
 pavilion. He armed himself, and Gareth too made 
 ready ; but Lynette said : ' Wilt thou not flee while 
 there is yet time ? Thou art but a knave ; it will be no 
 shame to thee.' ' Damsel,' Sir Gareth answered, ' he 
 who fights for thee deserves at least fair words ; howbeit 
 foul words are better, for they send such anger through 
 me that my strength is doubled, and I know that I shall 
 conquer.' So the two laid their lances in rest, and 
 dashed each at the other. Full in the centre of the 
 bridge they met, and each was hurled from his horse like 
 a stone out of a catapult, and for a space they lay as 
 dead. Then lightly they got to their feet, and with their 
 swords lashed fiercely at one another, till Gareth's shield 
 was cloven in two. But so mightily did he come on that 
 he drove the other backward down the bridge, and at 
 last smote him to the ground. ' Slay me not,' he cried ; 
 ' I yield me.' ' That is as this damsel may say,' 
 answered Gareth. ' So she ask thy life of me, I grant 
 it willingly.' ' What ?' said Lynette. ' I ask any favour 
 of thee, kitchen knave ? Be not so hardy as to slay a 
 nobler man than thyself.' ' I grant his life at thy bidding, 
 
30 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 maiden,' said Gareth, ' And thou, begone to the King, 
 and yield thee to his grace.' 
 
 Then Gareth took his shield, his own being broken, 
 and so they journeyed on, Sir Gareth ever following 
 where Lynette led him, until they came to the second 
 loop of the winding river, where the knight who called 
 himself the Noonday Sun kept guard. ' Now,' said she, 
 ' Sir Scullion, I fear that thou wilt meet thy match.' ' I 
 shall do my best,' answered Gareth, and the two met in 
 mid-stream. Mightier than the Morning Star was the 
 Sun, and Gareth had much ado to hold his own ; but at 
 last the Sun's horse slipt on a hidden rock, and plunged 
 him in the river. Gareth drew his enemy to land, but 
 he could fight no more, and yielded ; so Gareth sent hirn 
 to the King. 
 
 But not a whit the more did Lynette give him thanks 
 or courtesy, but set his victory down to chance or 
 sorcery ; the stream, not he, was victor in this fight. 
 Then they two came to where the third brother, the 
 Evening Star, was warden, and he, seeing the Morning 
 Star on Gareth's shield, weened that it had been his 
 brother, and he cried : ' Brother, what doest thou so far 
 from thy ward ? Hast thou slain the maiden's champion ?' 
 To whom answered Lynette : ' This is no star of thine, 
 as thou wilt shortly find, even as both thy brethren have 
 done.' Then the Evening Star made him ready to fight, 
 and under his armour he was clad in hardened hides that 
 no sword could bite on. For Gareth overthrew him 
 when they charged, and when they fought on foot he 
 hewed his shield and helm and armour in pieces, but 
 could not pierce the skin garment and bring him down, 
 so that he thought, ' My toil is all in vain.' But Lynette, 
 watching the combat, cried aloud to him to be of good 
 courage, for, knave though .he might be, he was as noble 
 
GARETH AND LYNETTE 31 
 
 and brave as the best knight of Arthur's Court. And 
 Gareth, hearing her words, struck ever harder strokes, 
 till at last the other's sword was broken in his hand, and 
 when he tried to close and wrestle in unknightly fashion, 
 Gareth, with one mighty heave, hurled him over the 
 bridge into the river below, and made an end of him. 
 Then said he to Lynette as before : ' Lead on, and I 
 follow.' ' Nay, not so,' she answered. ' No more will I 
 lead. Thou must ride beside me if thou wilt ; and for 
 my former discourtesies to thee I crave thy pardon, for 
 never hast thou answered me ungently, and therefore 
 surely thou art no knave but knight,' ' Well,' said Gareth, 
 ' let not thy past words grieve thee, for he is no true man 
 who would not suffer gladly a gentle maiden's wayward- 
 ness. But now thou speakest me fair, methinks not even 
 Lancelot might prevail against me,' 
 
 So they rode both of them together, and as the day 
 drew towards evening, they were aware of a knight 
 coming athwart them, who cried to Sir Gareth : ' Turn 
 and fight me, felon ; I am here to avenge my friend,' 
 So Gareth turned, and when they encountered, even 
 before he was aware, at one touch of the other's lance he 
 found himself lying on the grass behind his horse. Sore 
 bewildered and ashamed was he, and hasted to mend his 
 fortune with his sword, but when he gat him to his feet 
 and marked the other's cognizance on helm and shield, 
 lo ! it was none other than Lancelot himself, who had 
 followed them from afar, as has before been said, but by 
 another road, and so knew not of Gareth's victories, but 
 was misled by the morning star on Gareth's shield. And 
 they two made merry over the mistake, and clasped each 
 other's hand in love and friendship, 'Truly,' said Gareth, 
 'if by any ill chance I had had the better of this en- 
 counter, I had been grieved and sad. For me it is no 
 
32 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 shame to have gone down before the best lance in all the 
 world.' But Lynette was ill pleased at her champion's 
 disaster, and for a time she reviled him as before till 
 Lancelot himself rebuked her, and she held her peace. 
 And when Lancelot told her that her kitchen knave was 
 in truth a knight and nobly born, being indeed a king's 
 son, she was well satisfied, though still she wondered 
 wherefore he had so beguiled her with the pretence of 
 servile birth. 
 
 Then went the three to a hermit's cave hard by that 
 the damsel knew of, whither her sister Lady Lyonors 
 had caused bread and meat and wine to be sent for her 
 coming champion. And as they talked of the fourth 
 knight yet to be overcome, and how he was mightier 
 than the rest, and had sworn to fight with none but 
 Lancelot, and the maiden Lynette being loth that her 
 knight Gareth should miss the full achievement of the 
 quest, Lancelot made offer to lend his horse and shield, 
 which bore his own cognizance, the azure lions which all 
 men knew. So should the fourth brother deem that it 
 was indeed Lancelot with whom he had to do, and not a 
 lesser man. This offer Gareth gladly took, nor did he 
 fear that he should shame the great name that went 
 therewith. Howbeit Lynette, when she saw him so 
 armed, and set upon the full achieving of the adventure, 
 repented her of the bargain, amd prayed Gareth to let 
 Sir Lancelot have his shield again, and finish the quest 
 in his stead. ' It is glory enough,' she said, « to have 
 conquered the three. Ye have done wonders, miracles 
 ye cannot. The fourth is beyond thee. O Prince, let 
 Lancelot have his shield again.' ' Not unless he fight 
 for it,' merrily answered Gareth; and indeed, in her 
 heart, I think Lynette would not have had him answer 
 otherwise. 
 
GARETH AND LYNETTE 33 
 
 Then, as the next day dawned, they drew nigh the 
 castle of the Lady Lyonors. A huge pavilion, black, 
 with a black banner, stood before the castle, and a great 
 black horn hung thereby which the challenger must 
 sound. This Gareth did thrice with small delay, and ere 
 the echoes had died from the castle walls they saw lights 
 twinkle at the windows, and at one casement high aloft 
 the Lady Lyonors herself appeared, and waved her hand 
 and made courtesy to him. 
 
 Then there was silence, and at last from the great 
 dark pavilion came forth that which dwelt therein. On 
 a great charger black as night It came, the monster, 
 armed in night-black harness, tricked with the semblance 
 of a skeleton's bones, and helmet crested with a white 
 death's-head. Forward it came, and stayed, and there 
 was silence. Then Gareth said : ' Why seek to frighten 
 men with these ghastly follies ? If, as folk say, thou 
 hast the strength of ten, canst thou not trust the limbs 
 God hath given thee?' But still no answer or motion 
 came, and even Gareth felt a chill strike through his own 
 blood, so that, had he waited longer, his courage might 
 have failed. He spurred his horse and charged, and 
 those who looked nor turned aside for fear saw as they 
 met that Gareth was safe and the other was overthrown. 
 
 Then, as Sir Gareth's sword split skull-crest and 
 helmet, lo ! there was seen no monstrous savage, but a 
 young boy's bright face, and he kneeled down before Sir 
 Gareth and besought him for his life, crying : ' Slay me 
 not, Sir Knight. My three brethren bade me do this 
 thing to make a tale of horror that would keep the world 
 from Lady Lyonors, for they never dreamed that any, 
 not even Lancelot or the King, would ever force the 
 passes of the stream.' 
 
 And then came forth the Lady Lyonors and thanked 
 
34 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 her deliverer, and all her household made merry with 
 dance and song, for that the dread had passed away, and 
 the fear of Night and Death was over. So Gareth 
 achieved the adventure, and the old chroniclers say that 
 he wedded Lady Lyonors ; but the later, and to my mind 
 the truer, tale is that he loved and wedded the maid 
 Lynette, his comrade of the quest. 
 
III. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 
 
 3—2 
 
The stovy of Geraint and Enid gives us the first hint that 
 moral evil is at work ; it is the rumottr of the Queen's and 
 Lancelot's dishonour that causes Geraint's suspicion of his wife. 
 This story, by the way, is not from Malory : it is found in a 
 Welsh collection of legends, ' The Mabinogion.' Two idylls are 
 here omitted — Balin and Balan and Merlin and Vivien. 
 
III. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 Geraint, Prince of Devon, and knight of King Arthur's 
 Order of the Round Table, had married the daughter of 
 old Earl Yniol, Enid by name, and she was dearer to 
 him than his own life. He had found and loved her first 
 when the fortunes of her father's house were greatly 
 broken, but now it was his delight to array, her in all 
 splendour of robes and jewels, and she, though caring 
 not greatly for such display, yet was glad to make herself 
 pleasing in her husband's eyes, for he was the one man 
 in all the world to her. And for a season they dwelt at 
 Arthur's Court, at Caerleon-on-Usk, and the great Queen 
 Guinevere herself loved Enid exceedingly, nor less did 
 Enid love the Queen, and Geraint rejoiced to see it. But 
 there came a time when an evil rumour arose touching 
 Guinevere's love for Lancelot, the King's chief knight 
 and trusted friend, saying that the King no longer had 
 her heart, but that it was given to Lancelot, and that he 
 had given her his, breaking thereby his fealty to the 
 King. The King knew it not, nor had anyone certainty 
 of the matter, only they doubted greatly. The matter 
 
38 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 troubled Geraint not a little, for he could not endure 
 that his dear wife, through her love for the Queen, should 
 in any degree be touched by the breath of slander. 
 Therefore "he made request to the King that he would 
 grant him to return for a space to his princedom in 
 Devon. ' For,' said he, ' the land hath suffered by my 
 absence from marauders, and there be many robbers and 
 lawless rogues abroad there that need a strong hand to 
 put them down.' And the King allowed his request, and 
 Geraint and Enid rode away to their own land. ' Now,' 
 thought Geraint, ' if ever wife was true to her lord, mine 
 shall be so to me ; for in this home of ours, far from 
 courts and courtiers' gossip, nothing can come between 
 us two.' 
 
 So for a space all went well ; but his care for, and 
 observance of, his wife so wrought upon him that in time 
 he forgot all other things, until he took no heed of ruling 
 his province, no pleasure in hunting or tournament, no 
 delight in the company of his peers, and thereby brought 
 shame and derision upon himself and upon Enid. And 
 the thing grieved Enid very sorely, for nothing was 
 dearer to her than her lord's good name ; and she longed 
 to tell him of it, but, for very shame, could not find the 
 way to do it. 
 
 At last, one morning in summer-time, she sate by her 
 husband's couch, where he lay asleep, and for coolness 
 had cast aside the coverlet from his arms and breast (for 
 the early sun beat hotly through the casement), and she 
 gazed upon him as he slept, and marvelled at the strength 
 and beauty of his aspect, and, bending over him, said 
 within herself, ' O noble breast and mighty arms, am I 
 the cause that all your glory and your fame is gone, and 
 that men reproach my lord, saying his manliness is no 
 more ? I am the cause, because I dare not tell my lord 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 39 
 
 the truth, and what men say of him. And yet, rather 
 than^have it so, how gladly would I gird his harness on 
 him, and ride by his side to battle, and even see him 
 wounded— ay, wounded perhaps to death ! Have I the 
 heart for this, and yet not heart enough to speak the 
 truth as a true wife should ? Ah me ! I fear I am no 
 true wife.' And as she spoke thus her tears fell fast 
 upon his face and neck, and he awoke, hearing by great 
 mischance her last words only, that she feared she was 
 not a true wife to him. ' So, after all,' thought he, ' my 
 pains, and love, and care have been in vain, and her 
 thoughts are not with me, but with some gay courtier of 
 the Royal Court.' 
 
 The fancy maddened him so that, without a word to 
 her (when a word would have made all clear between 
 them), he leaped up from where he lay, and called his 
 squire. ' Make ready my horse and arms,' he said, ' and 
 thy lady's palfrey, since it seems I must show that I am 
 still a man. And do thou ' — turning to Enid — ' put on 
 thy worst and meanest dress and ride forth with me.' 
 The saying amazed Enid, not knowing wherefore he was 
 angry, and she said : ' If I have done ill, let me at least 
 know my fault.' ' Ask me no questions,' he answered, 
 ' but do my bidding.' 
 
 So she went heavily, and going, she remembered the 
 old and faded dress in which Geraint had first seen and 
 loved her, and she arrayed herself in it, for she thought, 
 ' When he sees this dress, surely he will remember the 
 old days when first he loved me, and I was pleasing to 
 his eyes in it ; then surely his heart will soften, and he 
 will tell me if I have erred, and all will be well.' 
 . Now, the tale must be told of how Geraint had his 
 first sight of Enid, and wherefore she was clad in mean 
 attire at their first meeting. It happened on this wise. 
 
40 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 On the Whitsuntide before these things, King Arthur 
 had held a great hunting at Caerleon, and all the Court 
 were gone to the chase save only Guinevere. She arose 
 late, and followed with a single maiden ; and while she 
 waited beside the wood to hear the distant horns and 
 hounds, there came up Prince Geraint, himself late also, 
 in holiday attire, with no weapon save a golden-hilted 
 sword by his side. Each greeted the other kindly, and 
 while he stayed by the Queen, there rode past them 
 an armed knight, with a lady and a dwarf. And 
 Guinevere, desiring to know the stranger knight's name, 
 sent her maiden to ask it of the dwarf. But he made 
 churlish answer that he would not tell, nor would he 
 suffer her to ask his master, saying that she was not 
 worthy even to speak of him, and he struck at her with 
 his whip. So the maiden returned to the Queen, in- 
 dignant, and Geraint made after the dwarf, and ques- 
 tioned him, but with no better success — nay, the dwarf 
 even smote him with his whip across the face so that the 
 blood started. The Prince was minded to have drawn 
 his sword and made an end of him, but forbore, and 
 returning to the Queen, said : ' Madam, I will avenge 
 this insult that has been put upon you, for I will follow 
 after this knight, and fight with him ; and within three 
 days, if I be not slain, I will come again. Farewell.' 
 Then said Guinevere : ' Heaven prosper you, fair Prince, 
 in this and in all things. And if one day you find a fair 
 bride, as I trust you may, it shall be my part to array 
 her in bridal raiment.' 
 
 Therewith Geraint departed, and followed the three 
 over hill and dale, till they came to a little town in a 
 valley, on one side whereof was a fortress newly-built, and 
 on the other an ancient castle, half in ruin ; and the three 
 rode up to the fortress, and entered therein, and stayed. 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 41 
 
 •Then Geraint sought in the town for some place where 
 he might hire or borrow armour, but everywhere he 
 found bustle and business, and none could spare time so 
 much as to answer him, save only one word that came 
 from all, ' The Sparrow-hawk !' At last Geraint lost 
 patience, and said : ' A murrain on all your sparrow- 
 hawks ! Are ye all mad ? Where can I find harbourage 
 for the night, and arms to fight my enemy ? Speak !' 
 Then, an armourer looking at him, saw that he must be 
 some noble knight, and, asking pardon, said : ' There is 
 a joust here to-morrow. Sir Knight ; the town is full, and 
 scarce have we time for half the work in hand. Maybe 
 Earl Yniol beyond the bridge will give thee shelter.' So 
 Geraint rode on to the ancient castle across the bridge ; 
 and the Earl made him welcome as best he could. And 
 when Geraint spoke of the Sparrow-hawk, he sighed 
 deeply, and said : ' Ay, truly, the Sparrow-hawk is the 
 curse of this my house ; let us not speak of him — not 
 even in jest.' 
 
 "So Geraint followed the Earl into the castle, and as 
 he entered the court he heard the voice of a maiden 
 singing in her bower ; so sweet the voice was that he 
 said within himself as he listened to it, ' Here, by God's 
 grace, is the one voice for me !' The words were of 
 Fortune and her wheel — brave, true words that bade 
 defiance to the ups and downs of destiny : 
 
 ■ Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate ; 
 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.' 
 
 The song ceased, and the singer came forth. It was 
 Enid, the old Earl's daughter, and her mother came with 
 her, an aged and gracious dame. Clad was the damsel 
 
42 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 in faded raiment, and when Geraint had set eyes on her 
 he said again in his heart, ' Here, by God's rood, is the 
 one maid for me.' And Enid waited on the guest, even 
 taking his charger to the stall, though he would fain have 
 hindered her, and then, coming in with bread and meat 
 and wine, she set their meal before them, and charmed 
 Geraint with her sweet serviceableness. 
 
 Then, the meal being ended, Geraint told the Earl of 
 his errand on the Queen's service, and asked him of his 
 courtesy to tell him of the Sparrow-hawk, whereof all 
 men's lips were full. ' I am Geraint of Devon,' he Said, 
 ' one of Arthur's Round Table, and if there be wrong 
 done, I am sworn to right it.' And the old Earl was 
 glad, and told him all. ' The Sparrow-hawk,' he 
 answered, ' is my nephew, and some time since he was 
 a suitor for the hand of this my child. But I refused 
 him, knowing what he was. Then he brought a charge 
 against me that I had robbed him of his inheritance, and 
 with the slanderous tale he raised against me mine own 
 people, sacked my house, and thrust me from my earl- 
 dom. And every year he holds a joust, the prize being 
 a golden sparrow-hawk ; nor has he yet been overcome, 
 being of great strength and skill in arms. But no man 
 may enter on this tournament except the lady he love 
 best be there.' Then said Geraint : ' Wilt thou, my 
 friend, lend me some armour, and if it please thee, and 
 the maid herself be not unwilling, let me lay lance in 
 rest for her upon the morrow ? For if I fall, she is un- 
 sullied still, and if I live, so help me Heaven as I will 
 make her my wife and love her evermore !' 
 
 Then the face of the old Earl lightened, and turning to 
 Enid's mother (for Enid herself was no longer there), he 
 bade her go and tell the maiden all Geraint had said, and 
 prove her heart towards him. So she went and spake to 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 43 
 
 Enid, and told her all their converse. And Enid, being 
 amazed at the suddenness of it, spake no word, nor could 
 she rest that night ; but when the sun rose, she called 
 her mother, and together they went down to the field of 
 tourney, and there they waited for her father and Geraint. 
 Nor was it long ere they came, Geraint wearing her 
 father's arms, old and rusty, and right glad was he when 
 he saw Enid was there. Then other knights and ladies 
 came, and the town and country folk, and filled all the 
 space about the lists. And the Sparrow-hawk himself 
 was there with his lady ; and he made proclamation 
 arrogantly that the prize should be given her forthwith. 
 ' Not so,' cried Geraint ; 'there is one here worthier to 
 claim it.' Wroth and amazed was the other, the more 
 so when he saw the Earl his uncle, and Enid his cousin 
 standing beside Geraint. ' Do battle for it, then,' he 
 cried, nor would his passion suffer him to say more. 
 And so the strife began. A great fight it was : thrice 
 they charged, and each time brake their lances. Then 
 they dismounted, and made at one another with their 
 swords. So furious were their strokes that each one 
 seemed as if it must end the battle. Twice by consent 
 they rested, and came on again, and many a wound did 
 either give and receive, but neither had the mastery, till 
 at last Earl Yniol cried aloud to Geraint : ' Remember 
 the great insult done to the Queen !' Then Geraint 
 gathered all his force into one last blow, and so mighty 
 was the stroke that it smote through crest and helm and 
 bit the bone, and felled the Sparrow-hawk to the ground. 
 'Tell me thy name,' said the Prince. ' Edyrn, son of 
 Nudd,' he answered. ' Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd,' said 
 Geraint, ' these two things shalt thou do, or thou shalt 
 die. First thou shalt go with thy lady and dwarf to the 
 Queen, and crave her pardon ; and in the next place 
 
44 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 thou shalt give back to thine uncle his earldom.' ' These 
 things will I do,' said Edyfn. And he arose and went 
 straightway to King Arthur's Court, and gained the 
 Queen's forgiveness. Also he repented him of his ill 
 deeds, for his pride was utterly abased, and he put aside 
 all his old life, making amends by deeds of courtesy and 
 good fame, till at last he ended his days nobly in the 
 great battle, fighting for the King. 
 
 But Geraint returned with Yniol to the castle, and on 
 the next day (which was the day he had promised the 
 Queen that he would return, having achieved the quest) 
 he would fain take leave of the old Earl, and prayed that 
 Enid should go with him to the Court that he might 
 present her to the Queen, and that they two might be 
 made man and wife. Short time was there for preparing 
 wedding garments, and Enid was filled with shame and 
 misgiving when she looked upon her faded raiment, and 
 feared that she would bring dishonour upon her lord by 
 her poor apparel. And while she mused upon it, and 
 feared more and more the thought of coming so ill-clad 
 before the Queen and all the splendour of the Court, her 
 mother came to her, bringing somewhat in her hand to 
 be a sweet surprise, she said, for her. Then Enid looked, 
 and, lo ! it was a bright and costly robe that had been 
 stolen from her when the folk had plundered the castle ; 
 and indeed it was this very dress that had been in her 
 mind as she pondered the matter. Full of joy was she 
 to see it again, and marvelled how it came ; and her 
 mother told her how one had brought it back even now, 
 on hearing that the fortunes of their house had changed. 
 
 And Enid gladly arrayed herself in the robe, and 
 though she was fairer than any even in her poor attire, 
 yet now in her rich apparel she seemed ten times fairer 
 than herself ; and the good mother's heart was proud as 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 45 
 
 she looked upon her daughter, truly a bride worthy of 
 any prince. 
 
 But when Geraint heard of it, he made request earnestly 
 that Enid should ride with him clad only in the faded 
 gown that he had seen her in at first. Enid was grieved 
 and perplexed, but laid aside her robe in silent obedience, 
 and donned the faded silk, and so came down into the 
 hall to meet Geraint. His heart was moved at her sweet 
 submission, and, seeing her mother's brow still clouded 
 with disappointment, he made haste and said, ' Good 
 mother, take it not ill that I have asked this thing. Two 
 reasons there are — one, that our Queen Guinevere, when 
 I left Caerleon three days since, promised me that when- 
 soever I brought my bride to her, she would herself 
 clothe her in her bridal raiment ; 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 wholly mine. Now, therefore, I am 
 well assured that never any shadow of mistrust can come 
 between us. Some day I will make you amends for this 
 my hard petition.' 
 
 Then the two passed away to Caerleon, and from afar 
 Guinevere saw them coming up the vale of Usk (for she 
 had climbed to the topmost tower to watch for Geraint's 
 return), and she greeted both with kindly welcome, and 
 arrayed Enid in all bridal splendour. So the two were 
 wedded by Dubric, the saintly prelate, and all that week 
 high festival was held in Caerleon-on-Usk. 
 
 This is the tale of Geraint's marriage, and when the 
 year after he bade Enid in his foolish anger to put on her 
 worst and meanest dress, and ride with him, she who 
 had kept the faded silk in memory of those days, and of 
 his first love for her, drew it from its place, and cfad 
 herself therein, and so went forth. 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT. 
 
 Part II. — Geraint and Enid. 
 
 Now, this is the story of a man's folly, and a woman's 
 forbearance and forgiveness ; for as Geraint wrought folly 
 through his unreasoning anger and suspicion, so did Enid 
 surpass all wives in obedience and long-suffering, and 
 therefore was her love rewarded in the end. 
 
 When the two had mounted their horses on this summer 
 morning, Geraint, armed in his full harness of war, and 
 Enid in her faded silk as he had bidden her, he turned 
 to her and said, ' Thou shalt ride not beside me, but far 
 in front ; and whatever thou dost see or hear, I charge 
 thee on thy duty as a wife that thou speak to me not a 
 word.' And Enid was troubled at the saying, but obeyed 
 and went on before. But as they fared forth, suddenly 
 Geraint cried, ' Though I be so unmanly, yet will I have 
 no gold about me to bribe mine enemies withal ' ; and 
 therewith he flung his purse from him to his squire who 
 stood at the castle gate. 
 
 And the road he chose- was the wildest and most beset 
 by bandits and savage beasts ; but still Enid passed on 
 far in the front, and he rode after her, and it were hard 
 to say which of the two had the heavier heart. For his 
 soul was torn asunder between his great love for her and 
 his indignation at the fault that he believed her guilty of ; 
 and she was ever casting about in her mind what her 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 47 
 
 fault might be. ' For if he would only speak and tell me 
 of it,' said she, ' then by Heaven's grace I might make 
 amends.' Then in the forenoon, as they journeyed through 
 the wastes, Enid beheld three bandit knights waiting for 
 them in the shadow of a rock, and heard them say, ' Lo ! 
 here comes a laggard knight ; see how he hangs his head ! 
 Let us set on him and slay him, and his horse and armour 
 and the damsel shall be ours.' And Enid thought in her 
 heart, ' I must needs warn my lord, or these caitiffs will 
 slay him ; yea, though he slay me, yet must I speak to 
 him.' So she went back and told him ; but he only 
 answered in his foolish wrath, ' Did I not bid you be 
 silent ? And thus it is you keep my bidding ! Well, 
 then, whether my life or my death is your desire, with 
 your own eyes shall you see that my manhood is not lost.' 
 With that he spurred to meet the robbers, and drove his 
 spear through the first of them a cubit's length ; then as 
 the other two charged upon him, their lances splintering 
 on his mail like straws, he smote once, twice, with his 
 good sword, and stunned or slew them both. Then he 
 stripped them of their armour, and bound it on their 
 horses, and bade Enid drive them on before her, and she 
 did so. And as he followed her somewhat nearer than 
 before, his heart smote him for his hardness to her, and 
 he was full of pity for the task she had to drive the horses 
 for him ; yet would he not speak to her, but in his own 
 despite he nursed his wrath. And no long time there- 
 after Enid was aware of three other mounted robbeis at 
 the edge of a wood, and one of them seemed to her bigger 
 of bone than Geraint ; and they spoke among themselves 
 after the same manner as the former ; ' Here cometh a 
 goodly prize — three horses armour-laden, and but a maiden 
 with them. A knight following ? Yea, but a craven. Come, 
 let us fall on him, and take his maiden and his goods.' 
 
48 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 ' Now,' said Enid to herself, ' I must needs disobey my 
 lord again for his own good ; for he is weary with his 
 former fight, and his life is dearer to me than my own.' 
 Then she waited for him, and spake and said, ' There are 
 three bandits in the wood yonder, and one of them is of 
 larger stature than my lord ; and they lie in wait to take 
 you unawares.' 
 
 But he made answer roughly as before, saying that he 
 would be better pleased to meet a hundred bandits than 
 have his bidding so set at nought ; and he bade her stand 
 aside while he dealt with them. Then the giant bandit 
 bore down upon him fiercely ; but his lance missed, 
 while Geraint's own spear drove right through shield and 
 corselet, and there broke short, and the huge bulk fell 
 from horse and lay. But Geraint, shouting his battle- 
 cry, spurred at the other two, who fled in terror ; howbeit, 
 he overtook and slew them ; then, stripping their arms 
 from the three, bound them on their horses as he had 
 done before, and bade Enid drive them on before her. 
 So she drove them on in patience, and the creatures 
 themselves seemed glad to obey her voice and govern- 
 ment, so wise and tender was she, and so firm. 
 
 Then, after mid- day, they drew out of the wood into a 
 fair meadow with mowers mowing in it ; and beyond it 
 there rose a castle on a rock, and at its foot a little town. 
 And Geraint, marking how Enid was looking pale and 
 weary, called to a lad that was bringing victuals for the 
 mowers, and bade him give her to eat. This he did very 
 willingly, and the two alighted, and, letting the horses 
 graze, ate together ; and for payment Geraint bade the 
 youth take a horse and arms. ' But,' said the lad, ' you 
 overpay me fiftyfold, my lord.' ' No matter,' said Geraint, 
 ' you will be all the wealthier ; but go and hire for me 
 in the town some lodging for the night, and stabling for 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 49 
 
 the horses, and bid the Earl, thy lord, come if he will 
 and sup with me af even.' So the lad departed, and 
 Geraint and Enid abode in the field; nor spoke to one 
 another, he drowsing in the heat, and she musing on the 
 strangeness of the adventure, till their messenger returned. 
 Then they moved to the house he told them of, and abode 
 there till evening-time, when the Earl came in to sup 
 with Geraint. Now, so it was that this Earl, the Lord 
 Limours, had been a suitor of Enid's in the days gone 
 by, and as he greeted Geraint he was aware of Enid 
 sitting sadly and apart. And when they had well feasted 
 and drunk, the Earl asked Geraint's leave to speak to 
 the damsel who sate apart from them all. ' I give it 
 freely,' said Geraint. Then Limours went and spake to 
 Enid, and said to her, ' Enid, who wast once my love, 
 and art my love for evermore, now at last thou art in my 
 power. Once methinks I found some favourin thy sight ; 
 and if, as I see it must be, yon churlish husband of thine 
 hath lost his love for thee, thou hast but to speak the 
 word, and he shall not cross us more. Thou shalt be 
 happy yet, for thou art dearer to me now than .even afore- 
 time.' Then Enid considered awhile with herself, and 
 answered craftily, ' Earl, if thy words are true, then come 
 to-morrow morn, and carry me off by violence ; leave me 
 now, for I am weary to death.' So the Earl Limours 
 departed well pleased with her words, and confident that 
 she loved none but him. But Enid, though she said 
 nothing then to Geraint, piled all his armour ready while 
 he slept, and herself slept but little. Then ere the day 
 dawned she roused him, and told him all the words of 
 the Earl, and her own crafty reply, even craving his 
 pardon for having made it. And though his mind still 
 harped upon the words he had heard her say yester morn 
 when he awoke, yet he could find no fault with her now 
 
 4 
 
so TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 in word or deed ; so he called for the host and asked 
 the reckoning, and bade him' take five horses and their 
 armours in payment. Then to Enid, ' Remember, if you 
 can, my charge upon you — that you speak no word to me 
 whatever betide.' ' I would obey, my lord,' she said, ' if 
 I could ; but I cannot endure to see the danger, and not 
 warn you of it.' ' Yet do my bidding,' he answered, ' for 
 I, too, have eyes, to see more than perchance you think ; 
 and ears, to hear you even in my dreams.' Then they 
 fared forward into the territory of another Earl, the Earl 
 Doorm, whom for his strength and fierceness folk called 
 the Bull. 
 
 But ere they had gone far they heard the tramp of 
 horses following, and, turning, Enid saw a cloud of dust, 
 and without speaking, she lifted her finger and pointed. 
 Geraint was pleased at this mark of her obedience to his 
 foolish command, and he wheeled his horse and waited. 
 And presently from the cloud of dust issued at a gallop 
 the false Limours, and dashed upon Geraint, who smote 
 him with his lance heavily to the earth, and overthrew 
 the next who followed, and charged single-handed all the 
 rout behind. But no heart had they for fighting, but 
 fled this way and that as a shoal of minnows scatter in a 
 moment at the shadow of a hand upon the stream. ' What 
 think you of your lover?' said Geraint, smiling grimly. 
 Shall we strip him of his armour, and buy therewith 
 a dinner for ourselves ?' But Enid answered him not, 
 and so they went on their way, she before and he 
 following. 
 
 But it chanced that in this last fight he received a 
 wound, and, hardly knowing it himself, he bled secretly 
 under his arm our for a time, till at a turning in the road 
 he swooned, and suddenly fell, without a word, from his 
 horse. And Enid heard his fall, and came swiftly and 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT sr 
 
 unfastened his armour till she found the wound, and 
 bound it up with her veil of faded silk. Then her lone- 
 liness came upon her, and she sate down and wept. 
 
 And many passed her on the road, but- regarded her 
 not, so common a sight it was in that disordered earldom 
 to see a woman weeping for husband or brother slain ; 
 and meanwhile her palfrey, scared at some noise, galloped 
 off into the bushes, but the great war-horse stood beside- 
 his master, grieved like a man. 
 
 Then, after long waiting in the scorching sun, she saw 
 coming up with a hundred men-at-arms the huge Earl 
 Doorm himself ; and, seeing them, he called aloud with 
 a big voice, ' What, is he dead ?' ' No, not dead,' she 
 answered. ' I pray you, let him be borne hence a little 
 out of the sun, for surely he is not dead.' ' Well, dead 
 or not,' said the Earl, ' your weeping will not avail him ; 
 but, seeing you are fair to look upon, come you to our- 
 hall, and some of you take up the man and bring him, 
 and the horse, too. If the man live, we will make him 
 one of us.' So he rode on, but Geraint was brought to 
 the hall, laid in the hollow of his shield, and Enid abode 
 with him, chafing his hands and weeping over him till he 
 awakened from his swoon, and found her tending him so 
 faithfully ; but he feigned to be still without life, that he 
 might prove her to the uttermost. 
 
 Then in the afternoon came in the Earl with his spear- 
 men and their plunder, and called for food and wine, and 
 serving-men brought in whole hogs and quarter beeves, 
 and all sate down and fed tumultuously, more hke beasts 
 than men. And when Earl Doorm had ended his meal, 
 he cast his eyes upon Enid where she sate beside her 
 lord. Then he went to her, and said, ' Weep no more, 
 but eat. 'Twill bring the colour back to your cheek, and 
 then not one among my gentlewomen would match your 
 
 4—2 
 
52 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 comeliness. And you and none other shall be my lady ; 
 but now eat and drink.' ' Not so,' said she ; ' I will not 
 eat till yonder man arise and eat with me.' ' Drink, 
 then,' said he ; and filled a horn with wine, and held it 
 to her. ' No,' she cried, ' by Heaven I will not drink 
 till my dear lord arise and drink with me ; and if he rise 
 no more, I will look no more upon wine till I die.' Then 
 the Earl was wroth, and said, ' Beware, girl ; yonder man 
 is surely dead, and you are in my power. If you will 
 neither eat nor drink, then, to please me, put off this faded 
 gown, and let my women robe you as suits your beauty. 
 Do as I say.' But Enid answered, ' No, I will not do it ; 
 for in this poor gown my lord first found me, and loved 
 me, and bade me ride with him to Court, and in this 
 gown he bade me ride forth with him yester-morn. And 
 this gown I will not put aside until my lord himself arise 
 and bid me do it.' Then the Earl strode up to her, and 
 said, ' Truly, it is of no more avail to be gentle than 
 ungentle with you — take this salute from me ' ; and he 
 smote her with his palm on the cheek. But Enid, 
 thinking that he had not dared to do this unless he knew 
 surely that Geraint was dead, uttered a sharp and ex- 
 ceeding bitter cry, like the cry of a hare just before the 
 hoimds fasten upon her. 
 
 This Geraint heard, and, grasping his sword that lay 
 beside him, leapt up from his place, and with one sweep 
 of the blade shore through the ruffian's neck, and tumbled 
 his bearded head upon the floor. Then all the men and 
 women rose and fled yelling from the hall, terrified as if 
 they had seen a spectre, and Geraint and Enid were left 
 alone together. Then Geraint said to Enid, ' Enid, I 
 have used you more unkindly than that dead man : 
 forgive me. I doubted your faith to me, for I heard you 
 say yester-morn that you were no true wife. I knew not 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 53 
 
 your meaning ; neither do I know it now, nor will I ask. 
 Only believe this and forgive — that I believe you even 
 against yourself, and hereafter I will die sooner than 
 doubt your love.' And Enid would have answered, but 
 for very happiness she could find no words ; only she 
 said, ' Hasten, let us go ere they return and slay you ; 
 the charger is close by — my palfrey is lost.' So they 
 went forth and found the good horse, and Geraint mounted 
 and helped her to climb up behind him, and all was peace 
 and happiness between them. But as they set forward, 
 they saw full in front, even in the gateway of the castle, 
 an armed knight of Arthur's Table, and he was making 
 ready to set on them. But she cried to him, ' Slay not a 
 dead man !' and, lo ! the knight knew her voice, and it 
 was Edyrn, the son of Nudd, her cousin, whom Geraint 
 had overthrown at the joust of the Sparrow-hawk. Then 
 was she the more afraid, not knowing how Edyrn was 
 now minded towards them ; but Edyrn came frankly 
 forward, and said, ' My lord Geraint, I greet you heartily. 
 I owe you a debt of love and gratitude for chastening my 
 pride, and lifting me from my past evil ways. Fear not, 
 Enid, that I should fall upon one to whom I owe so much. 
 I am one of the Table Round, and am come from Arthur, 
 who is hard by, to bid Earl Doorm disband his powers, 
 and submit to the judgment of the King.' 
 
 ' His powers are scattered,' answered Geraint, ' and he 
 himself is judged by the King of kings.' And he told 
 Edyrn what had befallen, and how the Earl lay dead in 
 his hall. But when Edyrn prayed him to come to the 
 camp and tell the matter to the King, he was unwilling 
 and ashamed, knowing all his own folly, until at last 
 Edyrn said : ' Well, if you come not to Arthur, he will 
 come to you.' And Geraint answered : ' Lead, and we 
 follow.' And as they went, Edyrn told Enid, who still 
 
54 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 feared him a little, all the tale of his life from the 
 beginning ; how he had wooed her first, and been 
 rejected ; then how in revenge he had set up the yearly 
 jousts in the hope that some day Enid's own lover might 
 encounter him and be overthrown ; how this had turned 
 out otherwise, and he had himself been conquered by 
 Geraint, and his life spared ; and how he had from that 
 day forth repented of his evil deeds, and at Arthur's 
 Court been so helped by the courtesy and kindliness of 
 all, and the wise and holy counsel of Dubric the high pre- 
 ate, that he had grown to loathe his former life, and had 
 become a changed man. So speaking, he made Enid's 
 heart glad, and he brought them to the King, who made 
 them welcome, and spoke for a little first with Edyrn 
 apart. Then, Enid being gone into her tent, he turned to 
 Geraint and said : ' Prince, when you prayed me for 
 leave to go into your own land and there defend your 
 marches, I felt that I myself was somewhat to blame 
 in having delegated my own authority overmuch in the 
 past ; therefore am I now come to see with mine own eyes, 
 and with me are Edyrn and others of the Table. But 
 now, have you marked the change in Edyrn from his old 
 wild nature to something new and noble ? Better is he 
 that conquereth his spirit than he that taketh a city, and 
 Edyrn's work in conquering himself and his old life of 
 violence is, to my thinking, even more great and wonder- 
 ful than if some knight of mine went forth risking his life 
 to make an onset single-handed against a realm of robbers 
 — ay, though he slew each man by man, and were him- 
 self wounded nigh unto death in the achievement of it.' 
 
 And Geraint' s heart pricked him as he heard the great 
 King's words, for he felt that his own work had been 
 neither great nor wonderful. Then he went to his tent, 
 whither the King's own physician came to tend his 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT 55 
 
 wound. Enid was ever at hand to nurse and wait upon 
 him, and as he lay healing of his hurt she grew dearer 
 to him day by day, and each was happy in the other's 
 perfect love. 
 
 But the King meanwhile looked into the affairs of all 
 that realm. He put down injustice, and set up law and 
 order, and made all places safe, and cleansed the land. 
 
 Then when Geraint .was whole of his wound, they 
 moved with Arthur to Caerleon-on-Usk, where the great 
 Queen made them welcome, and they abode there for a 
 space. And afterwards they went back to their own land 
 of Devon, and there Geraint ruled well and wisely, keep- 
 ing the King's justice, till all men, seeing his good 
 government and his might in tournament and battle, 
 loved and revered him only less than Enid, whom their 
 people loved to call Enid the Good. Noble children had 
 they, and never more did shadow'of doubt come between 
 them till his honourable life was crowned with a glorious 
 death in battle for the King against the heathen of the 
 Northern Sea. 
 
IV. 
 LANCELOT AND ELAINE 
 
The fourth story is that of Lancelot and Elaine. In it 
 we find that the moral taint has spread, and rumours have 
 become certainty. Lancelot, the King's companion and familiar 
 trusted friend, the chief of knights, is a traitor to his trust, 
 and it is his 'faith unfaithful ' which is the direct cause of the 
 innocent maiden's death. But more than this, it is the cause of 
 the general lowering of moral tone among the Order, and fore- 
 shadows the disruption of the kingdom. 
 
IV. 
 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 
 
 Hard by a town called Astolat there stood a castle, high 
 built upon a hill, and there the lily-maid Elaine, in her 
 bower up an eastern turret, guarded Lancelot's shield as 
 though it were a sacred thing. But she knew not the 
 name of the shield's owner. Most carefully she kept the 
 shield, and made with deft fingers a broidered silken cover 
 for it, weaving all the while in her brain a tale of way- 
 ward fancies about each dint and scratch that marked its 
 surface. 
 
 Now, this is the tale of how the maiden came by 
 Lancelot's shield, and of the love she bare him, and of 
 the doom that came upon her thereby. Also it tells of 
 Lancelot, and how his faith unfaithful kept him falsely 
 true, and wrought the maiden's death. The shield was 
 left with her by Lancelot when he rode to Camelot to 
 tilt for the great diamond in the yearly tournament that 
 Arthur had ordained and named the Diarriond Jousts. 
 Eight times had the jousts been held, and this was the 
 ninth and last, and thereby hangs a tale. Once on a 
 time Arthur, before he came to his kingdom, passing 
 through a wild and trackless region in Lyonnesse, had 
 
6o TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 found a gloomy tarn amid the hills, beside which lay the 
 bleaching skeletons of two men. They had been brothers, 
 one of them had been a king, and they had fought 
 together, and each had slain the other. Where they had 
 fallen there they lay, and folk were feared to go near the 
 place. And on the brows of him that had been a king 
 was a crown set with nine great diamonds, which Arthur, 
 coming up the pass by dim moonlight, had trodden upon 
 by chance, and as it rolled away had caught and set 
 upon his own head, foreboding the time when he should 
 himself be king. 
 
 And in after-years he appointed the diamonds as prizes 
 for a nine years' contest in tournament, one for each 
 year, to prove the manhood of his knights. And for 
 eight years had Lancelot won the prize, meaning when 
 all were won to give them to the Queen in token of his 
 love and loyalty. The ninth and last tournament was nigh 
 at hand, when Arthur said to Guinevere, who had been 
 lying sick : ' My Queen, think you that your health will 
 keep you from these jousts ?' ' I fear it must, my lord,' 
 she answered. ' Then will you miss the sight of Lance- 
 lot's prowess,' said the King, 'and that were pity.' 
 Howbeit she made no answer, and Lancelot, whose 
 love for her was ever in conflict with his worship and 
 love of the King, thought within himself, ' She needs 
 my presence here ;' and so he said, though it grieved him 
 sore to forego the winning of the last jewel for her : ' My 
 Lord King, I am as yet scarce whole of my former 
 wound, and may not ride.' Half-hearted were his words, 
 and the King, who ever loved and spake the truth, 
 doubted for a moment ; but then dismissed the doubt, 
 and went his way. 
 
 Then said the Queen : ' Ye are greatly to blame. Sir 
 Lancelot. Wherefore go you not to this tourney ? 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 6i 
 
 What, think you, your enemies and mine will say and 
 deem ? Shameless will they call us thus to plot and 
 betray King Arthur's trust.' And Lancelot, vexed that 
 his falsehood had been to no purpose, said : ' My Queen, 
 you are overlate in your wisdom ; ye were not so wise 
 when ye loved me first. As for men's talk, let them say 
 what they will ; but, indeed, my loyal worship is allowed 
 by all, and no offence is thought. But is there more ? 
 Hath the King spoken, or does my service weary you?' 
 To which she answered : ' Oh, the King, the King ! Nay, 
 he hath not spoken ; he cares not for me. All he cares 
 for is his Table Round, and those impossible vows to 
 which he binds his knights. But you must go, and you 
 must win the prize.' And Lancelot said : ' The King 
 himself is utter truth, and honours his own word as if it 
 were his God's. How can I show my face at Camelot, 
 after my lying pretext of a wound ?' The Queen thought 
 a moment, and then said : ' Thus shall you do it. You 
 shall disguise yourself, and go unknown ; and with this 
 pretext, that you desire to prove your might, seeing that 
 men go down before your spear at a touch, only through 
 knowing you are Lancelot. This, for I know his love 
 for glory, will please the King full well.' 
 
 So Lancelot did according to the Queen's coimsel, and 
 took horse and made his way by unfrequented roads 
 towards Camelot. And as he journeyed, it chanced that 
 he missed the way, and towards evening drew near to 
 the castle of Astolat, which shone from afar in the 
 westering sun. He rode up to it, and in the gateway 
 found a horn and blew it, till there came out an old 
 servitor of the house, and he was dumb and spake not. 
 But he brought Lancelot in, and showed him a chamber, 
 and helped him to disarm. Then Lancelot, coming forth, 
 was met by the lord of the castle with his two stalwart 
 
62 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 sons, Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, and close behind them 
 was Elaine, their sister, whom folk called for her fairness 
 the Lily-maid. The mother of the house was not, for 
 God had taken her. 
 
 One might see there had been some jest among them 
 ere they came, for the mirth was just dying out of their 
 faces. Then the Lord of Astolat greeted Lancelot, and 
 asked of him his name, ' for,' said he, ' I guess thee by 
 thy state and presence to be of Arthur's great fellowship 
 of knights.' Then Lancelot answered that it was true 
 he was of the Round Table, and was on his way to joust 
 at Camelot, but desired for the present to remain un- 
 known. And to further that end he prayed the Lord of 
 Astolat to suffer him to leave his shield, which by its 
 device would reveal him at the jousts, and to lend him 
 another in its stead. ' Gladly will I do so,' said the 
 other. ' Here is Torre's, my son's ; he was hurt of late 
 in his first tilt, so for the present time he needs it not.' 
 And Torre, who was somewhat rough and blunt of 
 speech, added : ' Yea, since I cannot use it, ye may have 
 it.' ' Forgive him, my guest,' said the father ; ' but 
 Lavaine here, my younger son, he too is going to the 
 Diamond Jousts, and forsooth he is so hopeful and so 
 lusty that he will do nothing less than tilt and win, and 
 all in an hour ; and so please you bring back the diamond, 
 and set it in this wilful damsel's golden hair.' 
 
 ' Nay, good father,' said Lavaine, ' thou knowest it 
 was all a jest, for Torre was vexed he could not go, and 
 my sister here told us of a dream she had, that someone 
 put the diamond in her hand, and that she let it slip into 
 the stream. And so. Sir Knight, I said that if I went, 
 and if I won the prize, then she must keep it better. 
 But all was jest and joke among ourselves. But with 
 your leave, dear father, I fain would ride to Camelot 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 63 
 
 with this noble knight, if he will have my company. 
 Win, of course, I shall not, yet will I do my best.' 
 ' Indeed,' said Lancelot, ' I shall be right glad to have 
 your company and guidance, and to see you win the 
 diamond and bring it home to your fair sister. A fair 
 diamond it is, too, as I hear ; and if the proverb of " like 
 to like " is true, as I hold it is, then would it grace this fair 
 maiden well, and she would grace it in the wearing of it.' 
 And the fair maid Elaine heard his words, and lifted 
 her eyes and looked upon him, and in her heart she said : 
 ' This is the goodhest knight among them all,' and there- 
 with she loved him once and for all with that love which 
 was her doom. Yet he was no young lover to snare a 
 maiden's fancy, but more than twice her age ; scarred, 
 too, with marks of battle, and his face bronzed and 
 worn with care. For, indeed, for many years past his 
 love for Guinevere, in conflict with his faith and fealty to 
 the King, had torn his soul with agony, and made him at 
 times distraught, and all this inward strife had left its 
 mark upon his lineaments. But marred as he was, he 
 nevertheless was one to look upon and to love, and in 
 the Baron's hall as they sate at meat that evening he 
 charmed them all with talk of court and camp, and with 
 his words of gracious courtesy. Only when the Queen's 
 name was spoken he suddenly broke off, and asked the 
 Baron of the old dumb servitor who kept the castle gate, 
 how came he thus ? And the Lord of Astolat told him 
 how, ten years before, the heathen had caught him, and 
 cut out his tongue for having warned his lord of their 
 coming. ' Those were evil times,' he said, ' before our 
 noble King broke their power in the last great fight on 
 Badon Hill.' Then said Lavaine : ' Oh, tell us, my lord, 
 for we live apart, and know so little, tell us of those 
 famous wars of Arthur.' 
 
64 TALE& FROM TENNYSON 
 
 And Lancelot answered and told them much, for he 
 had himself been a great part of all the tale. He spoke 
 of the twelve battles wherein the King had rolled back 
 the tide of heathen hosts, the fight in the forest of Celi- 
 don, and that by Castle Gurnion, and again at Caerleon 
 and Trath-Treroit, and in the last battle on the mount of 
 Badon, when the King charged at the head of his array 
 of knights and broke the enemy's ranks and sent them 
 flyiiig. ' There at the end,' he said, ' I saw him stand 
 high on a mound of slain men, red from spur to plume 
 with heathen blood, and looking more than mortal in the 
 flush of that great victory. For the King, mild and 
 gentle as he seems at home, nor caring greatly for 
 triumph in our jousts and mimicry of war, yet in his 
 wars against the pagan is filled as with the fire of God. 
 There is none like him, none ; there lives no greater 
 leader.' ' Saving your own great self,' thought the lily- 
 maid, and the memory of his words and the sound of his 
 voice and courteous pleasantry of manner haunted her 
 through the night, and mingled with her dreams. 
 
 Then next morning, knowing they would be early in 
 the saddle, she rose at dawn, and found them in the 
 castle court, Lancelot calling to Lavaine for the shield 
 that he would borrow. And Lancelot turned and saw 
 the lily-maid standing in the dewy light, herself as 
 beautiful as the dawn. No word she spake, till suddenly 
 the thought came upon her to ask him to wear a token 
 of hers upon his helmet, For it was the custom in those 
 days for knights to wear in their helms at tournaments 
 some glove or scarf of the lady whom they chose to 
 serve. But Lancelot answered : ' Fair lady, it has never 
 been my wont to wear any maiden's favour in the lists.' 
 ' Then,' answered she, ' in wearing mine you are the less 
 likely to be known, my lord.' And turning her counsel 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 65 
 
 over in his mind, he thought it good, and answered : 
 ' You say well, my child ; I will wear your favour.' So 
 she brought it out, and bound it on his helmet. A 
 scarlet sleeve it was, broidered with pearls, and Sir 
 Lancelot took it, saying : ' Never before have I done 
 this for any maiden living.' Then came Lavaine bearing 
 his brother's shield, and Lancelot gave Elaine his own, 
 saying to her : ' Do me the grace, my child, to keep this- 
 shield for me until I come again.' 'The grace is mine,' 
 she said, and so took the shield and bade the two fare- 
 well, watching them from the castle gateway as far as 
 she might see. Then she returned to her tower with 
 Lancelot's shield. 
 
 But the two, Lancelot and Lavaine, rode on together, 
 and came the first night to a hermitage by a poplar grove 
 not far from Camelot. Sir Lancelot knew the hermit, 
 who had been a knight in former days, and he made 
 them, welcome for the night ; and the next morning they 
 heard mass and broke their fast, and with the hermit's 
 blessing rode away. Then Lancelot told Lavaine, say- 
 ing : ' I am Lancelot of the Lake ; but tell my name to 
 no man.' And Lavaine held his breath in awe, but then 
 said : ' Now have I seen one, the great Lancelot ; if I 
 might see the other, our liege lord the King, then were 
 my heart's desire fulfilled.' 
 
 So they reached the meadow by Camelot where the 
 jousts were held, and there Lavaine had the other half 
 of his wish, for, as he gazed upon the throng of people 
 in the seats, he saw on the high throne, carved with the 
 golden dragon of the great Pendragonship, the King him- 
 self, robed in red samite, crowned with the dragon ; and 
 in the canopy over him shone the diamond of the jousts. 
 And Lancelot, seeing Lavaine's eyes dwell on the King, 
 said : ' Just now you called me great, perhaps because I 
 
 5 
 
66 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 have some skill in war and tourney, such as many another . 
 will attain and overpass ; but greatness is not in me, 
 unless there be some far-off touch of greatness in know- 
 ledge that I have it not. If you would see a great man, 
 look there — the King.' 
 
 Then the jousts began, and the knights, divided into 
 two companies, met in the mid -field with a sh'ock of 
 thunder, so that the earth quaked under them. And for 
 a time Lancelot withheld his hand, waiting to see which 
 was the weaker side. Then he hurled into the press 
 against the stronger ; and what need to tell of his 
 prowess ? None could stand against him — King, duke, 
 earl, all went down before his spear, and Lavaine helped 
 him well and worthily. But there were many of his own 
 kinsmen against him in the field, and they were wroth 
 that a stranger should almost out - do the deeds of 
 Lancelot ; and they said one to another, ' Surely it is 
 Lancelot ;' but others, ' Nay ; for when has Lancelot 
 ever worn a lady's favour ? None of our Lancelot is 
 this. Let us bear down upon him all together and 
 overthrow him.' And this they did, charging down 
 upon Sir Lancelot like some great surging wave in the 
 Northern Sea when it sweeps down upon a fishing vessel 
 and overbears it and its helmsman. So did they by 
 weight of men and horses bear down Sir Lancelot and 
 his charger, and one of their spears pierced through his 
 shield and mail and snapped short, leaving the lance- 
 head in his side. Then Lavaine did a great deed, for 
 he charged and overthrew a mighty warrior, and took 
 his horse and brought it to where Lancelot lay. And 
 Lancelot, with his help, mounted, notwithstanding the 
 wound that he had got, and thought to do what he might 
 as long as he might endure ; and being stoutly helped by 
 the other knights of his side, he drove his kinsmen and 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 67 
 
 all their party back to .the barriers, and they owned them- 
 selves beaten. Then the trumpets blew, and the heralds 
 proclaimed that the prize of the tourney was his who 
 wore the scarlet sleeve with pearls, and bade him advance 
 and take the diamond. But he gasped : ' No prize ; no 
 diamond for me. My prize is death. For God's love 
 give me a little air !' and so departed suddenly with 
 Lavaine, suffering no one else to follow. And they 
 came to the little hermitage, and no longer could 
 Lancelot keep his saddle, but slid to earth, and cried 
 to Lavaine, ' Draw out the spear-head.' And Lavaine 
 drew, though fearing lest his lord might die in the draw- 
 ing of it. And Lancelot gave a great shriek and ghastly 
 groan, and with the pain and loss of blood he swooned 
 away. Then the hermit came forth and tended him, 
 and there he lay for many weeks between life and 
 death. 
 
 But the King was sore grieved that a knight who had 
 shown such prowess and been so grievously wounded 
 should be lost and leave no trace ; moreover, the King 
 was half convinced in his own mind that it must be 
 Lancelot, and no other. Therefore he called Gawain, 
 and charged him to ride forth with the diamond and find 
 the knight, and give the diamond into his own hand, then 
 to come again and bring word of him. And Gawain took 
 the diamond, and went forth, ill-pleased at being chosen 
 for this quest and made to leave the feasting and gay 
 cheer ; howbeit he showed not his thoughts to the King. 
 He was a fair and courteous knight, Arthur's nephew, 
 brother of Gareth and of Modred, and mighty of his 
 hands and brave ; but there was in him a touch of 
 traitorous temper, and he reverenced not his word as 
 the King would have all men do. 
 
 But Arthur, when he returned from Camelot, went to 
 
 5—2 
 
68 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 Guinevere and asked her how she fared, and where was 
 Lancelot, ' What !' said the Queen ; ' was he not with 
 you, and did he not win the prize ?' For she thought 
 that after the jousts Lancelot would have disclosed him- 
 self ; and she knew nothing of his wound. But when 
 the King told her all, then she said : ' That unknown 
 knight was Lancelot himself ; and he hid his name from 
 all men to prove his might, because of the saying that 
 men were conquered not by himself, but by his name, 
 therefore would he hide his name and joust unknown.' 
 To which Arthur answered : ' I would that he had 
 trusted me, his friend, as he hath trusted thee. But 
 there is other news, which gives me hope that Lancelot 
 has found at last a love ; for he wore upon his helm a 
 token of some lady — a scarlet sleeve, broidered with 
 pearls ; and never before has he done this.' Then said 
 the Queen : ' Thy hopes are mine, sire ;' and could say 
 no more, but fled to her chamber, well-nigh distraught 
 to think that Lancelot had forgotten her and turned him 
 to another love. 
 
 In the meanwhile Sir Gawain rode throughout the 
 countryside with the diamond, but found not Lancelot. 
 And he came at last to Astolat, and was there made 
 welcome. And Elaine asked him of the knight who 
 wore the red sleeve. So he told them of the jousts and 
 of his quest for the victor. And when Elaine heard that 
 her knight had won, she was glad, but came nigh to 
 swooning when he told her of the lance -wound in his 
 side. Then said her father to Gawain : ' Abide here 
 with us till the knight returns to claim the shield he 
 left ; then can you give him the diamond.' So Gawain 
 stayed, well content to spend his wit in mock courtship 
 of the lily-maid Elaine, till she grew weary of it and 
 him, and one day brought down the shield (he had never 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 69 
 
 yet asked to see it) that he might learn the owner's name 
 from its device. And when he saw the azure lions, he 
 smote his hands together and cried : ' Lancelot it is ! no 
 other. The King was right. But is he your love, fair 
 maiden?' 'Truly,' she said, 'I know not. Perhaps I 
 know not what love is ; but if I love not him, there is 
 no other man that I can ever love.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Gawain, ' I doubt not that ye love him 
 well, but would not if ye knew what all others know of 
 him and who it is that he loves, if still he loves her. 
 But yet he wore your favour at the tourney. Can he 
 have changed his worship ? It well may be. 'Tis no 
 concern of mine. But, damsel, if, as I doubt not, you 
 know his hiding-place, suffer me to leave the diamond 
 and the quest with you ; and you shall give the diamond 
 into his hand. So farewell — a thousand times farewell. 
 In times to come I trust that at the Court we two may 
 meet again.' Then he gave her the diamond, and de- 
 parted, well pleased to be rid of the quest. And when 
 he came to the King and made his report, he told him 
 how he had left the diamond, not with Lancelot, but 
 with the maid whose sleeve he wore. ' For,' said he, 
 ' she knows his hiding - place and will give him the 
 diamond. To her I gave it as obeying, methought, our 
 law of courtesy.' But Arthur was displeased that he 
 had not done as he had bidden him, and said : ' No more 
 do you go on quest of mine, since you forget that 
 obedience is the courtesy due to kings.' Gawain was 
 abashed for the moment, but lightly shook his thoughts 
 from him, and went about the Court buzzing the tale of 
 the maid of Astolat and her love for Lancelot. And the 
 gossip spread, and made a nine days' wonder, till even 
 at the banquet the knights forgot to drink to the Queen 
 and Lancelot, but pledged instead I^ancelot and the lily- 
 
70 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 maid, while the Queen's heart was bitter with jealous 
 anguish, but she sate still and made no sign. 
 
 But the lily-maid herself, keeping ever in her innocent 
 heart the memory of Lancelot, whom she had seen but 
 for a day, came to her father where he sate alone, and 
 prayed him that he would give her leave to go forth and 
 find Lavaine and the stranger knight, and with her own 
 hand give Lancelot the diamond. 'For,' she said, 'in 
 my dreams I have seen him lying pale and gaunt with 
 wasting sickness, all for lack of the care that I might 
 give him.' And her father mused awhile, and gave her 
 leave to go, and Sir Torre, her brother, with her. 
 
 So together they rode, the brother and sister, over the 
 downs to Camelot, and there came suddenly on Lavaine, 
 to whom she cried : ' Lavaine, how fares my lord Sir 
 Lancelot?' And Lavaine was amazed to see them, and 
 to hear how Lancelot's name was known. Then, as 
 Torre parted from them, going into the city to his kins- 
 folk who dwelt there, Lavaine led her to the hermit's 
 cave, where Lancelot lay, and the first thing she beheld 
 was the helmet with her scarlet sleeve, or what was left 
 of it, still bound thereon ; and seeing it, her heart was 
 glad. But when she passed into the inner cell, and saw 
 Lancelot lying asleep so gaunt and pale and wasted, she 
 uttered a little cry of pity, and with the sound of it he 
 awoke. Then she gave the diamond into his hand, and 
 told him all the tale of Gawain's quest ; and while 
 Lancelot gazed upon her, he saw all her heart's secret 
 love and sorrow written upon her face, and his own heart 
 smote him, for he could care for no one save Guinevere 
 only. So day by day Elaine tended the sick man there 
 with love and care, ever patient with him, though often 
 the fever of his wound made him impatient with her, till 
 one day the hermit told her that her careful watching 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 71 
 
 had saved his life. And Lancelot himself could not but 
 love her with all a brother's love, and if he had seen her 
 earlier in his life, before that other fatal bond had made 
 him prisoner, perchance she might have made his life to 
 run a different course, and this world would have been 
 another world to him. But now it could not be ; it was 
 too late to change, and he must needs keep his false 
 truth, and abide by the faith unfaithful that he had 
 sworn. And Elaine, though she loved him none the less, 
 felt within her heart that he could never love her in 
 return, and nothing but death could ease her of her 
 pain. 
 
 Then, when Lancelot's wound was whole, the three 
 returned to Astolat ; and Lancelot, while he tarried 
 there, often begged her to name some goodly gift that 
 he might give her in return for all her care of him. But 
 she dared not say that which was in her heart, until one 
 morning, when he said to her, ' Delay no longer ; speak 
 your wish, for to-day I go.' ' Then shall I never see you 
 again,' she said. ' And for want of one bold word I 
 must die. Nay, I will say it : I love you. Will you 
 love me, my lord ? I have gone mad, methinks. Leave 
 me alone to die.' And Lancelot answered : ' Sweet 
 Elaine, there never will be wife of mine ; for had I 
 chosen to wed, I had been wedded earlier.' ' Nay,' said 
 she, ' but only to be with you, to serve you, and to hear 
 your voice.' ' That would be an ill requital to your 
 father and brother for their goodness,' said Lancelot, ' if 
 I hearken to you. And bethink you, dear maiden, this 
 is only a first fancy, a first flash of youth, not love at all. 
 You yourself will smile at it hereafter, when you are 
 mated happily with one of your own years, not twice 
 your age. And this will I do, for you are true and sweet 
 beyond all I ever thought of : I will endow you with land 
 
72 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 and goods out of my realm beyond the sea, and in all 
 your quarrels I will be your knight. But more than this 
 I cannot.' ' Of all this,' she said, ' will I nothing,' and 
 so fell swooning, and they bore her to her tower. 
 
 But her father had overheard their talk, and said : ' A 
 first flash of youth, alas ! yea, a flash that I fear will 
 strike my fair flower dead. Your courtesy, Lord Lancelot, 
 s too great. Perchance if you could use some roughness 
 ere you go to blunt her passion or break it, all might yet 
 be well.' And Lancelot was averse, but said he would 
 do what he could. So he tarried till towards evening, 
 and then sent for his shield ; and Elaine stripped off the 
 covering and sent it to him, and looked from her case- 
 ment to see him pass. She saw him ride below ; her 
 sleeve was no longer on his helmet ; and Lancelot heard 
 her move the casement latch, and she saw that he heard 
 it. Yet did he not look up or wave farewell, but rode 
 away without a sign. This was the one discourtesy 
 which he used in accordance with her father's prayer. 
 
 So Elaine, the lily-maid, was left alone, and ever she 
 pined in her loneliness, calling upon death to come and 
 give her ease ; and because she was skilled in making 
 and singing of verses, she made a little song, and called 
 it ' Love and Death,' and the words were on this wise : 
 
 ■ 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 I. 
 
 » » » * » 
 
 ' 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.' 
 
 Then came in her father and her brethren, and she told 
 them of a dream she had had, how that she seemed to 
 herself to be in a boat alone upon the river, and that she 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 73 
 
 had passed in it up towards the palace of the King, but 
 ere she reached it she awoke. ' But still,' she said, ' the 
 desire to go thither abides with me (for, as ye know, I 
 never yet have seen it) ; and having come thither, I shall 
 have the King's and the Queen's pity, and all the kindly 
 court will give me welcome, and I shall find my lord 
 Sir Lancelot once more, and my spirit will be at rest.' 
 
 But her father and her brethren would fain dissuade 
 her, and Torre, with angry tears, said that if ever he met 
 with Lancelot, he would, by God's grace, strike him down 
 for the evil he had done to the house. Moreover, her 
 father told her, thinking to break her passion, of the 
 slanderous rumours about the love of Lancelot for the 
 Queen, and that it was folly to call him the highest who 
 was sunk so low in shame. 
 
 Nevertheless, out of the greatness of her love and 
 faith, she would not hearken, but reminded her father 
 that there never yet was noble man but made ignoble 
 talk, and that the old proverb was true, that ' he makes 
 no friend who never made a foe.' And, moreover, she 
 said that if she were able to believe that what he said 
 was the truth, she would but die the sooner. ' Where- 
 fore,' she added, ' since I may not in any case live much 
 longer, send for the priest, that he may shrive me of my 
 sins before I die.' So the priest came, and after she had 
 made her confession, and he was gone, her face grew 
 bright and happy, and she besought Lavaine to write a 
 letter for her to Lancelot, wording it as she devised, and 
 he did so. Then she said to her father : ' When the 
 breath is out of my body, take me up and place me in a 
 little barge upon the river, and let me be decked in 
 raiment rich and fair, that I may go in state to Court to 
 meet the Queen. And let no one guide the barge save 
 our old dumb servant ; he can steer and row. But ere I 
 
74 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 die lay the letter in my hand, that I may bear it with 
 me.' And her father promised that all should be done ; 
 and she lived for ten days more, and then she passed 
 away. And all was done as she had desired. Her father 
 laid the letter in her hand, and her two brothers, weeping, 
 bore their dear sister to the barge, and laid her tenderly 
 therein, lapped in cloth of gold. In her other hand they 
 set a lily, the emblem of the Hly-maid, and over her 
 head they hung the silken cover she had wrought for 
 Lancelot's shield. Then they kissed her pale brow, and 
 with ' Farewell, sweet sister,' parted all in tears. So the 
 dead, oared by the dumb, passed up the river to the 
 King's palace. 
 
 And it chanced that on that very day Sir Lancelot 
 craved an audience of the Queen to present to her the 
 diamonds of the nine-years' jousts. And she received 
 him in her ch9,mber, which looked upon the river that 
 flowed beneath. But so wrathful was she at his supposed 
 treachery to her in daring, as she thought, and as rumour 
 said, to love another, that she broke into bitter upbraid- 
 ing ; and saying that she cared not now for diamonds, 
 nor any other gifts, when the giver proved untrue, took 
 the diamonds and flung them through the oriel casement 
 into the stream ; then she fled away to weep in secret. 
 But Sir Lancelot remained, leaning by the window, half 
 sick of life and love and all things. And while he mused 
 there, lo ! there came slowly up the barge bearing the 
 lily-maid, and passed underneath the window, and 
 stayed before the gateway of the palace. And word 
 was brought to Arthur ; and while men wondered at the 
 sight, doubting whether it were the Fairy Queen herself 
 come (as ancient prophecies had told) to bear away the 
 King to Fairyland, Arthur bade two of his knights — 
 Percivale the meek and Galahad the pure — to uplift the 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 75 
 
 maid and bring her into hall. And they did so, and 
 Gawain and Lancelot beheld her, and the Queen came 
 and pitied her ; but Arthur, spying the letter, took 
 it gently from the cold, white hand, broke the seal, and 
 thus he read : 
 
 ' Most noble lord. Sir Lancelot of the Lake, I, whom 
 folk called the Maid of Astolat, am come to bid farewell 
 to you, since you left taking no farewell of me. I loved 
 you, and you loved not rrie, and therefore my love has 
 been my death. And therefore to our Queen and to all 
 ladies I make moan, that ye will pray for my soul and 
 give me burial. Pray for my soul, thou, too. Sir Lancelot, 
 as thou art a knight peerless.' 
 
 This was all the letter, and while Arthur read, those 
 who heard it wept for pity. And Sir Lancelot spake, 
 and said, ' My lord King Arthur, know that I am right 
 heavy for this gentle maiden's death, for good she was 
 and true, but loved me with a love passing all love in 
 women. God knows I gave no cause willingly for such 
 love, and to that I may call her father and brethren to 
 witness. Nay, more, at her father's request, to break 
 or blunt her love, I used some discourtesy tawards her 
 against my will, for, as her letter saith, I took no farewell 
 of her when I departed.' Then said the Queen, ' Ye 
 might have shown her so much grace. Sir Knight, as 
 would have saved her from her death.' ' Queen,' he 
 answered, ' she would not be content save to be my wife 
 or my love, and neither of these two could be. But I 
 made offer to her that when she should have put aside 
 her thought of me, and wedded someone of her own youth 
 and worthier of her, then I would endow them with land 
 and goods in my own realm. More than this I could 
 
76 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 not, and this she would not, and she died.' Then King 
 Arthur said, ' It will be to thy worship, O friend, and to 
 mine, to see that she be buried worshipfully.' So on the 
 morrow the lily-maid was buried with all honour in the 
 great minster amongst the tombs of kings, and Arthur 
 said, ' Let a tomb be made with her image thereon, and 
 let Lancelot's shield be carven at her feet, and the story 
 of her death be inscribed for all true hearts to read 
 hereafter.' 
 
 But when the folk were streaming homeward from the 
 minster doors, the Queen passed Sir Lancelot, who stood 
 a little apart from the rest, and prayed him to forgive her 
 causeless anger and jealousy, and he forgave her willingly. 
 And afterward the King approached him, and spoke to 
 him in all love, and said, ' I would to God, dear friend, 
 seeing thy sorrow and loneliness, that thou couldest have 
 loved this maiden so fair and pure, who might, if one 
 may judge the living by the dead, have made for thee a 
 happy home, and given thee sons to inherit the name and 
 fame of Lancelot of the Lake.' And Lancelot answered, 
 ' Fair and pure indeed she was, my King, and deserved 
 a good man's love ; but love cometh not by constraint.* 
 ' Love so constrained,' said the King, ' were freest ; there 
 is nothing on this side of heaven better than pure and 
 true love in bond of marriage, and that she failed to win 
 thee to this bond, true and gentle as thou art, is sore 
 pity.' And Lancelot could not answer ; but he went 
 alone, and sate beside the river and communed with 
 himself. And he lifted up his eyes, and saw the little 
 barge that had brought the lily-maid pass down the 
 stream again to Astolat. And he cried in grief, and said, 
 ' Ah, simple heart and sweet ! surely your love was 
 tenderer and truer than my Queen's. Farewell, fair lily ; 
 yea, I will indeed pray ever for thy soul, as thou desiredst 
 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE 77 
 
 me. And the King — why did he thus speak to me : the 
 King, whose trust in Lancelot is so absolute ? Alas for 
 Arthur's greatest knight — a man not after Arthur's heart ! 
 What avails my greatness if it only makes men worse, 
 and sin seem less by my example ? I will break these 
 bonds of shame asunder ; and yet how can I if she wills 
 it not ? I know not what to do. Better it were if God 
 should send His angel, and seize me up and fling me far 
 away into that lake wherefrom they say I came, brought 
 hither by the Lady of the Lake, there to lie low with 
 name, and fame, and shame alike forgotten for evermore!' 
 So Lancelot groaned in his agony and remorse, for he 
 knew not then that repentance would one day come upon 
 him, and his sins be forgiven, and that he should at the 
 lafet die a holy man. 
 
V. 
 THE HOLY GRAIL 
 
The fifth story, the quest of The Holy Grail, is in some 
 degree a relief from the downward progress of the epic. It 
 introduces an entirely fresh element, and seems at first as if a 
 new spiritual force were coming to the rescue. It certainly 
 brings a new power to bear upon the characters of the heroes, 
 and if it had come earlier in the history, it might have 
 strengthened A rthur's hands, and been a power for good amongst 
 his knights. But it comes too late ; they find that, save for 
 four only — Sir Galahad, who alone achieves complete success. 
 Sir Percivale, Sir Bars, and Sir Lancelot — ' the quest is not 
 for them,' and Arthur's sad foreboding is fulfilled that many of 
 them would 'follow wandering fires, lost in the quagmire ' of 
 mystic dreams and unpractical enthusiasm, and ' that his fair 
 fellowship of knights would be broken up thereby, and would 
 never again meet together in this world.' 
 
 The Idylls of Pelleas and Ettarre, and the Last Tourna- 
 ment, are here omitted. 
 
V. 
 THE HOLY GRAIL. 
 
 Now, this is the tale told by Sir Percivale, whom Arthur 
 and his knights called the Pure, to the monk Ambrosius, 
 his friend in the abbey whereto he had betaken himself 
 far away from Camelot, for he was one of the few to 
 whom it had been granted to achieve the Quest of the 
 Holy Grail ; and, having achieved it, he cared no more 
 for war or tournament, but gave himself wholly to prayer, 
 and fasting, and alms, and became a monk. And his 
 fellow-monk Ambrosius loved him exceedingly, and was 
 ever in his company as much as he might be suffered ; 
 and it fell upon a certain day, as they sate beneath a 
 yew-tree by the abbey walls, that Ambrosius asked 
 Percivale to tell him of the cause that made him change 
 the life of war and chivalry for the life of the cowl and 
 cloister. And Percivale answered, ' It was the vision of 
 the Holy Grail ; this drew me from all earthly thoughts 
 and vanities, of jousting and rivalries for ladies' favour, 
 wherein men waste the spiritual strength that is better 
 offered to the service of God.' ' Ay,' said the monk, ' the 
 Holy Grail ; we were told something of it by one of your 
 own Order of the Round Table a while ago. He spoke 
 
 6 
 
■82 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 •of it in our refectory, but in so sad and low a voice, we 
 heard scarce half his words. But what is it ? — the 
 phantom of some cup that comes and goes ?' But Perci- 
 vale answered, ' Nay, monk, it is no phantom. It is 
 nothing else than the sacred cup itself from which our 
 Lord drank at the Last Supper with His Apostles. This 
 cup the good saint Joseph of Arimathasa, the same who 
 took Christ's body from the cross, brought with him in 
 his journeying from the Holy Land to Glastonbury here 
 in England, where also he planted the sacred thorn that 
 blossoms at Christmas. And for awhile the cup, the 
 Holy Grail, abode at Glastonbury, and the sight or touch 
 of it, if a man had faith, healed him at once of all diseases 
 and all sins. But afterwards the times waxed so evil 
 that the Grail might no longer abide on earth, but was 
 carried up to heaven, and was seen no more.' Said 
 Ambrosius, ' Yea, I know from our old books that Joseph 
 came to Glastonbury in the time of Arviragus the King, 
 and that he, being converted, granted Joseph a piece of 
 land whereon to build his church amid the marshes ; but 
 nothing have I read in our chronicles of this miraculous 
 cup. Tell me : who was the first to see the holy thing 
 in our own day ?' ' A woman,' answered Percivale ; 
 ' none other than my own sister — a pure and holy maid 
 if ever there was one, who from early youth had given 
 herself wholly to the life of prayer and fasting, and kept 
 herself unspotted from the world. Nevertheless, the 
 evil rumours of the Court had reached her ears even in 
 her cloister, and she prayed and fasted the more, and 
 often talked with the aged and holy man, her ghostly 
 father, of the Holy Grail, and its power to cleanse the 
 sins of men. For when Arthur made his Table Round, 
 and lives grew purer for it, men had thought the Holy 
 Grail would then return ; but now that sin had broken 
 
THE HOLY GRAIL 83 
 
 out again, might not one by fast and prayer bring back 
 the vision of it, and so cleanse the world ? And the old 
 man said, "The vision might perchance be given to thee; 
 I know not, save that thy heart is pure as snow." And 
 ever she fasted and prayed more and more, till one might 
 deem the sun shone through her. And one day she sent 
 for me, and I saw by the light in her pure eyes, beautiful 
 in the light of holiness, that she had seen the vision of 
 the Grail. And she told me how at dead of night she 
 had been awaked by the sound as of the distant blowing 
 of a silver horn, and it grew nearer and louder ; and then, 
 down a long beam of pale clear light which streamed 
 into her cell, there stole the Holy Grail, rose-red and 
 quivering with living rays, and after a little space the 
 vision faded into night. " So," she said, "now the holy 
 thing is among us once more, do thou, my brother, fast 
 and pray, and tell thy brethren to do likewise, that ye, 
 too, may see the vision, and your sins be healed." And 
 I fasted and prayed as she bade me, and so did many 
 another. 
 
 ' Now, the youngest of all our Order was named 
 Galahad, and he was of a most fair countenance, and 
 his armour was white as silver or as snow. Whence he 
 came from none knew, though some said he was a son of 
 Lancelot, and that by enchantment had his mother borne 
 him ; — mere babble of empty chatterers. This Galahad, 
 when he heard my sister's vision, caught in his eyes the 
 likeness of her own — his very look was transformed into 
 her likeness, so that he seemed her brother more than I ; 
 and when on a certain day he, being with me, saw my 
 sister, behold ! she had plaited of her own long hair that 
 she had shorn away a broad, strong sword-belt, woven 
 with the device of the Holy Grail in silver and gold 
 thread, and this she bound on Galahad the boy-knight, 
 
 6—2 
 
84 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 saying, " Go forth and find the vision even as I have 
 found it ; thou shalt prevail, and be crowned king in the 
 spiritual city;" and her faith kindled his faith, and he 
 believed in her belief. 
 
 ' Now, after this there befell a year of miracles ; for 
 you must know, my brother, that in our great hall at 
 Camelot there stood a vacant chair, which Merlin, the 
 great wizard, had made before he passed away. The 
 " Seat Perilous" it was called, for Merlin had set a spell 
 upon it that if any man sate therein, he should lose him- 
 self ; therefore it was always vacant. But once by mis- 
 adventure Merlin sate in his own chair, and thereby he 
 lost his own mastery of himself, and became the slave of 
 an evil woman, who by unholy enchantment charmed 
 away his life. But Galahad, when he heard of it, cried, 
 " He that will lose himself, the same shall save himself," 
 and on a summer night, when we were at the banquet, 
 Galahad sate down in Merlin's chair. 
 
 ' Then there came a peal of thunder, and a sound of 
 rending in the roof, and of a rushing mighty wind, and 
 therewith a beam of sevenfold brightness shone down 
 the hall, bearing within it the Holy Grail veiled in a 
 luminous cloud. And each one of us saw his neighbour's 
 face as in a halo of glory, but we were stricken dumb 
 and might not speak. Then at last I found a voice and 
 vowed a vow, and this it was that I swore, that I would 
 ride for a twelvemonth and a day in quest of the Grail 
 until I saw it clearly and without a veil, and so also did 
 Galahad, and Bors, Lancelot's cousin, and Lancelot, 
 and many others — ^yea, and Gawain also, louder than the 
 rest of us.' 
 
 Then the monk Ambrosius asked : ' Where was the 
 King ? Did not he make the vow ?' ' No,' said Perci- 
 vale ; ' the King was not with us, for he had that day 
 
THE HOLY GRAIL 85 
 
 ridden forth early with some of his knights to storm the 
 fastness of a horde of robbers. Howbeit, he saw some- 
 what of the marvel as he returned across the plain, for 
 he looked up and saw the great hall from afar wrapped 
 in the thunder-cloud, and he prayed that it might not be 
 smitten by the levin-bolt.' 
 
 Then Percivale told Ambrosius of the wondrous skill 
 with which Merlin had built the hall, and of its mystic 
 sculptures on the walls, and the statue of Arthur himself 
 Over all, crowned, and fashioned with golden wings point- 
 ing to the Northern Star, round which the heavens roll. 
 He told him also of its twelve great windows blazoned 
 with the story of Arthur's wars, and his twelve great 
 battles against the heathen, and in the eastern window 
 the finding of the brand Excalibur. It was in this hall 
 that Arthur was wont to sit delivering judgment, as on 
 the day when Gareth came and made his petition, and 
 again when the maid Lynette demanded of Arthur a 
 champion for her sister Lyonors. 
 
 ' Then,' said Percivale, continuing his tale, ' while the 
 hall was yet full of clamour and tumult, the King rode 
 in with some of those who had been with him through 
 the day, and he asked me, being nearest to him, what it 
 all meant. And when I told him what we had seen, and 
 what we had vowed, he was greatly grieved, and said : 
 " Had I been here, ye had not sworn this vow." " Nay, 
 my lord," I answered, " but hadst thou been here thou 
 wouldst thyself have sworn." Then he asked us, man 
 by man, whether we had seen the Grail itself, and man 
 by man we answered : " Nay, but we saw it veiled, and 
 therefore have we sworn our vows." Then Galahad cried 
 from his place : " But I, my King, both saw the Grail 
 and heard a voice : ' O Galahad, follow me !' " 
 
 •"Ah, Galahad, Galahad," said the King, "for such 
 
86 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 as thou art is the vision ; not for these other of my 
 knights. Not Galahads are ye," said the King, turning 
 to the others ; " no, nor Percivales" (so he was pleased 
 to say), "not men of hoUness and stainless life, but 
 rather warriors stout, good men and true, to right the 
 wronged, to beat down violence and lawlessness, and to 
 drive the heathen from the land. But now, ye who 
 follow 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, since your vows are made, they are sacred ; 
 ye must go. Howbeit, I know full well that many will 
 return no more, lost while ye follow wandering fires, and 
 who will do your work when ye are gone ? Ye think I 
 am too gloomy a prophet ; we shall see. But ere we 
 part, and this fair Order which I made be scattered, let 
 us meet once more in joyous tournament to-morrow, that 
 I may count your ranks for the last time unbroken." 
 
 ' So the next day the jousts were held. None like it 
 had there ever been before, so full was the gathering of 
 knights, and so well they fought. And I myself and 
 Galahad felt such strength within us from the vision that 
 we overthrew more knights than any others, and all the 
 people shouted : " Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale !" 
 
 ' Then the next day we passed forth from Camelot to 
 the Quest, and all the windows and long galleries and 
 balconies of the town, and all the house-tops, were 
 crowded with folk, old and young, who cheered and 
 cried after us : " God-speed !" But apart from these, 
 knights and ladies wept, and Arthur himself could scarce 
 speak for grief, and the Queen wailed aloud : " This mad- 
 ness has come on us for our sins !" 
 
 ' So we rode out through Arthur's mystic gate, and 
 thence departed, each on his own way. 
 
 ' Now will I speak first of my own Quest, and how I 
 
THE HOLY GRAIL 851 
 
 fared in it, for I rode forth at the first high in spirit and 
 glad at heart at my prowess in the lists, and I was sure 
 that I should win the Quest. But after no long while 
 my mind misgave me, and every evil thought and deed 
 of aforetime seemed to rise up in judgment against me 
 and say: " This Quest is not for thee." And I lookedy 
 and behold I was alone in a land of sand and thorns, and 
 I was sore athirst. And all my mind was filled with 
 mocking visions, for I seemed first in the madness of my 
 thirst to see a stream of water, clear and cool, and goodly 
 apples on trees hard by ; but when I drew nigh and was 
 fain to drink and eat, all fell into dust and vanished. 
 
 ' Then, as I rode on, methought a great warrior in 
 golden armour, with a golden crown, riding on a war- 
 horse also trapped in gold and jewels, came to meet mfe 
 and embrace me in his arms ; but as I moved towards 
 him, ere we touched, he also fell into dust and vanished, 
 and I was left alone and weary, 
 
 ' And yet again I had a vision of a city set high upon 
 a hill, and I heard a voice of a great multitude crying 
 from it : " Welcome, Percivale, mightiest and purest 
 among men !" and gladly I climbed up, but found at the 
 top no man or voice that answered ; only the crumbling 
 ruin of a city where men once had dwelt. And I cried 
 in the bitterness of my soul: " Lo, if I find and touch 
 the Holy Grail itself, it, too, will crumble into dust !" 
 
 ' After these things I came into a vale where dwelt a 
 holy hermit, and to him I told my phantoms, and he 
 made answer : " My son, one thing thou lackest — true 
 humility. Thou hast been full of pride and thoughts of 
 self, of thine own prowess. Thou must needs have the 
 mind which was in Christ Jesus, who humbled Himself 
 that all should follow His example. Thou must, like 
 Galahad, lose thyself to save thyself." And even as he 
 
88 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 spake, suddenly Galahad in shining arms entered the 
 chapel, and we knelt in prayer. And while the hermit 
 hallowed the bread and wine of sacrament, I saw the 
 elements alone ; but Galahad said : " Saw you no more? 
 I saw the Holy Grail descend ; I saw the face as of a 
 child that smote itself into the bread and went ; and not 
 now alone, but always is the Vision with me day and 
 night. And in the strength of the Vision I have con- 
 quered the heathen everywhere, and broken their evil 
 customs, and made their kingdoms mine. But my end 
 draws near when I shall be crowned King in the spiritual 
 city ; wherefore come thou with me, for thou, too, shalt 
 see the Vision when I pass away." 
 
 ' So I went with him, drawn by his power of faith, 
 and together we climbed a hill girdled about and crowned 
 with storm and tempest, and beyond it a great black 
 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. And Galahad sped along this mighty 
 bridge, 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, the 
 voice as of all the sons of God shouting for joy. And 
 then far away on the great sea I saw him shining in his 
 silver armour like a star, and over his head there hung 
 the Holy Vessel, veiled in luminous cloud. And to my 
 eyes he seemed to be in a boat speeding swiftly like a 
 shooting star to the spiritual city, and the city itself I 
 saw, with all her spires and gateways. Then darkness 
 fell, and I saw no more. And how I returned to the 
 hermitage I know not, but from thence I rode back to 
 Camelot's mystic gate.' 
 
 With that Percivale ceased speaking, and there was 
 
THE HOLY GRAIL 89 
 
 silence for a while. Then said the monk Ambrosius : 
 * How wide apart have been your life and mine ! Yours 
 with its mysteries and visions, mine with its homely 
 village talk, and reading of breviary and monkish books. 
 But tell me this, brother — saving this Galahad, saw you 
 none but phantoms in your Quest ?' And Percivale 
 sighed, and said : ' Ah, yes ; one indeed I saw that was 
 no phantom. Must I tell how far I faltered from my 
 vow ? After long fasting and waiting in vain for the 
 Vision, I came to a goodly town built around a stately 
 palace, where dwelt a Princess rich and beautiful, and I 
 was brought before her, when lo ! she was one whom in 
 boyhood I had loved, seeing her in her father's hall. 
 And none but she had ever stirred my heart, and now I 
 came upon her once more, finding her the heiress of a 
 dead man's wealth. And all my heart went out to her 
 again, and hers to me, as in old times, and so one day, 
 she being rich and I poor, she made offer of herself and 
 all her lands to me if I would wed her. And she was 
 near and dear, and my vow and the Quest seemed far 
 off; also her folk besought me to wed her and be their 
 Prince, and how near I was to yielding God knoweth ; 
 but suddenly the memory of my vow flamed up in me, 
 so that I rose and fled from temptation, and yet hated 
 myself and the Holy Quest and all the world save her. 
 Then I met with Galahad, and thereafter cared no more 
 for her nor anything on earth.' 
 
 ' Ah me, the pity of it !' said Ambrosius. ' Though I 
 speak of what I know not, for what is earthly love to me ? 
 Still, I would fain hope thou carest even for me a little, 
 and that I can feel thou art a friend, and thank God for 
 it. But saw ye none of your own fellowship of knights 
 beside ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Percivale ; ' one night I met Sir Bors, 
 
90 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 the cousin of Lancelot. I saw the pelican on his helm 
 shine in the moonlight, and glad were we at meeting. 
 Then I asked him, had he seen Lancelot ? " Ay," he 
 said, " once, and would I had not, for his madness had 
 returned upon him, and he rode as one distraught, 
 crying, ' Stay me not !' and it grieves me sorely that 
 Heaven hath plagued him thus." For Bors ever loved 
 Sir Lancelot, and would have been well content not to 
 have seen the Holy Cup if only Lancelot might have 
 seen it in his stead. But he told me how, in his wander- 
 ings, he fell into the hands of- a pagan folk, those who 
 still in corners of the land kept the ancient worship of 
 sun and moon and stars, and when he told them of the 
 Christ and of his Quest, they mocked at him and set 
 upon him and bound him prisoner. And there he lay 
 dungeoned beneath the earth till by miracle, as it seemed, 
 a great stone slipped and let in the air and sky, and as 
 he gazed out on the starlit night he saw the Vision of 
 the Grail pass before him, and a peal of thunder followed 
 it. Afterwards he was loosed from his bonds by a 
 maiden who kept the faith of Christ among her heathen 
 kinsfolk, and so was he free.' And Ambrosius made 
 answer : ' Now I remember that pelican crest upon the 
 helmet. Ay, sure, it was Sir Bors who came to us and 
 told us of the Grail. A reverent, honest, kindly man he 
 was, but was sad at heart when with us. Sir Bors it 
 was ; none else. Now tell me this, when ye came back 
 to Camelot, had the other knights all returned, or was 
 Arthur's foreboding true that all the Order would be 
 broken up ? What said each knight ? What said the 
 King ?' Said Percivale : ' I found Arthur sitting in his 
 hall upon the dais throne, and before him there stood of 
 those that had gone forth upon the Quest no more than 
 a tithe, and they were worn and wasted. And the King 
 
THE HOLY GRAIL 91 
 
 saw and hailed me, as glad to behold me safe and sound, 
 for there had been of late a mighty tempest, which had 
 wrought great havoc in the town, and some returning 
 had been slain or maimed in it, and he asked me : " Hast 
 thou found thy Quest, and seen the Holy Cup ?" And 
 I told the King all that thou hast heard, and of my 
 resolve to pass intothe silent life of prayer. He answered 
 me not, but turning sharply to Gawain, said : " Gawain, 
 was this Quest for thee?" And Gawain answered that 
 it was not for such as he, and that a holy man had told 
 him so. Wherefore he had given himself to making 
 merry with joyous company, and had spent his twelve- 
 month and a day full pleasantly. 
 
 ' Then did -the King call Sir Bors by name where he 
 stood by Lancelot, and said to him : " Hail, Bors ! 
 Thou, I know, hast seen the Grail if ever loyal man and 
 true might see it." And Bors, with tears in his eyes 
 of sorrow for Lancelot, his dear friend and kinsman, 
 answered: "" Yea, my King, I saw it ; but I cannot speak 
 of it. Ask me no more." 
 
 ' And the rest spoke each as Arthur asked him, but 
 only of perils by flood and field, till Lancelot alone 
 remained. To him said the King : " O Lancelot, my 
 friend, our mightiest, hast thou achieved the Quest?" 
 "O my King," answered Lancelot sadly, "my friend, 
 if indeed I be a friend of thine, and mightiest, happier 
 are those, methinks, \vhose nature is wholly evil, sunk 
 so low in sin that they cannot see their own shame, for 
 in me evil and good strove together for the mastery, and 
 the good that was in me was, as it were, the very stock 
 round which the evil twined and grew, till either could 
 scarce be discerned apart ; and when the vow was sworn, 
 I also swore, only in the hope that if I might touch or 
 see the Holy Grail I might pluck the two asunder, and 
 
92 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 uproot the evil. And I went to a holy saint, and he told 
 me that, unless I could pluck the two asunder, the Quest 
 itself was vain for me. So I strove and prayed as he 
 directed me, and even while I strove my madness came 
 again upon me, and drove me forth into the wilderness, 
 and I became the sport of little men who once had fled 
 at the mere shadow of my sword. Then I came down 
 to the sea-shore, and there I found a boat tossing, 
 anchored to the beach, and I cried aloud : ' Perchance, 
 if I embark, I may lose myself, and so save my soul 
 alive, and wash away my sin in the great Sea.' So I 
 cast the boat loose, and drifted in it seven days along 
 the deep, until on the seventh night I was borne to the 
 foot of the crags where stands the enchanted castle of 
 Carbonek. Steps from the sea led up to the great gate of 
 it, and on either side the entry stood a lion, guarding it, 
 and the moon shone clear. Then I leapt out of the boat, 
 and passed up the stairway and drew sword upon the 
 lions, vvfhich reared themselves upright and gripped me 
 by the shoulders as I stood between them. And as I 
 made ready to smite them, a voice said : ' Doubt not, 
 but go forward, else will the beasts rend thee in pieces.' 
 Then my sword was dashed violently from my hand, 
 and fell on the ground, but I passed on into the castle 
 hall, and found it empty, and I saw only the moonlight 
 streaming in through the high window that looked upon 
 the sea. But from a tower high aloft I heard a clear 
 voice singing that seemed to draw me after it, and half 
 in a dream I climbed up many steps that seemed to have 
 no end. At last I reached a door, and through the 
 chinks in it I saw a light, and heard a chant : ' Glory to 
 God on high, and to the Holy Vessel of the Grail.' 
 Madly I tried to force the door, and it yielded ; but 
 therewith came there upon me such a blast of scorching 
 
THE HOLY GRAIL 93 
 
 light and heat, as from a seventimes-heated furnace, that 
 it smote me senseless and blinded. Howbeit, ere I 
 swooned away, methought I saw the Holy Grail, palled 
 in crimson samite, and around it a vision of angel-shapes, 
 and wings and eyes, such as we read of in Holy Writ. 
 And indeed, but for my madness which was upon me, 
 and my sin, and my swooning away, I would have sworn 
 that I saw it in very truth ; but I saw not the Grail, 
 save under a covering, and so this Quest was not for 
 me." 
 
 ' He ended, and there was silence in the hall for a 
 space, till'Gawain spake after his reckless and irreverent 
 fashion. "Truly this mad Quest of thine, friend Per- 
 civale, and of thy holy nun's, hath driven men mad, 
 even our mightiest most of all. No laggard have I 
 been, my King, in any quest of thine ; but now I swear 
 to be deaf and blind as blue-eyed cat or noonday owl to 
 quests and visions of all holy maidens from this time 
 forward and for ever." " Gawain," said the King, re- 
 buking him, " thou art already too blind to have desire 
 to see ; no need to make thy blindness greater by an idle 
 vow. But if a sign from heaven came indeed, then 
 blessed are Bors, Percivale, and Lancelot, for they have 
 seen according as it was granted to each of them to see. 
 But Lancelot, my friend, thou art wrong in saying that 
 the good and evil had so grown together in thy heart 
 they could not be dissevered ; nay, rather, be sure that 
 apart from this there grows some root of noble life. See 
 to it, my friend, that the plant may bear its flower. 
 
 ' " And, O my knights, was not my foreboding all too 
 true, when I warned those that went forth upon the 
 Quest that most of them would follow wandering fires, 
 and be lost in the quagmire of doubt and empty dreams ? 
 And was it not a true forecast that your fellowship would 
 
94 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 be disbanded ? Scarce a tithe returned of those that 
 went. And of those to whom the Vision came, Lancelot 
 my greatest hardly will believe that he saw it ; and Per- 
 civale hath seen it afar off, and now he cares not for his 
 life's work in the world, but yearns only for the life of 
 silent prayer ; and Galahad, who has seen the vision 
 face to face, his chair is empty, and he comes no more, 
 though doubtless he is crowned victor in that other 
 hfe. 
 
 ' " Some of you there were who thought that if I, the 
 King, had seen the Vision, I should myself have sworn 
 the vow. That may scarcely be, for the King's quest is 
 to do the duty set before him in the land he rules. He 
 is like the ploughman to whom is allotted a portion of 
 field to plough, nor must he leave it till his work be done. 
 Howbeit, I say not that no visions ever come to me; nay, 
 many a time they come, until the King himself knows 
 not whether this earth he treads upon be earth at all, or 
 the air he breathes be air, when all seems vision, saving 
 only himself, his purpose, and his God and Saviour, and 
 then he feels he cannot die, but live. I have my visions, 
 you have had yours. What you have seen you have 
 seen." 
 
 ' So the King spake to us,' said Percivale, ' but all 
 that he meant I know not, only methinks he would have 
 us learn that the truest servant of God is he who, like 
 the King, and perchance, too, like thee, Ambrosius, my 
 brother, goes not on any Quest or Vision, but abides and 
 ploughs the field where God has set him.' 
 
VI. 
 
 THE END OF THE ROUND TABLE, AND 
 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR 
 
The two concluding idylls, Guinevere and the Passing of 
 Arthur, show the completion of the catastrophe. The treachery 
 of Modred, the King's nephew, has revealed the love of Lancelot 
 and the Queen. Guinevere takes sanctuary in the nunnery at 
 A linesbury, and while A rthur goes northward to wage war on 
 Lancelot, Modred raises a revolt and usurps the throne. The 
 King rettwns to the south and marches against Modred, who 
 retreats westward. The sublime picture of A rthur' s farewell to 
 Guinevere at Almesbury, her repentance, and his forgiveness, is 
 wholly Tennyson's own; there is no hint of anything of the kind 
 in Malory, or in any of the old chroniclers. Then the King 
 continues his pursuit of Modred, and in Lyonnesse is fought 
 the last great battle of his life, a battle, as it were, between the 
 powers of good and evil. Modred is slain, and Arthur, sorely 
 wounded, passes away in the mystic barge, to rest from his 
 labours in the Island Valley of Avilion. 
 
 His life's work has seemed to end in failure, hit it is not so 
 in reality, for he has created an ideal which will live for ever- 
 more. 
 
VI, 
 
 THE END OF THE ROUND TABLE, AND THE 
 PASSING OF ARTHUR. 
 
 Here is the tale told of how the goodly fellowship of 
 knighthood called the Round Table fell asunder and 
 came to its end, and how the King himself fared in the 
 last great battle, and passed to his mysterious home of 
 rest. For after the Quest of the Holy Grail, which had 
 drawn away many knights, who returned not again, the 
 King made new knights to fill up the number of the 
 Order, and for a time it seemed as if all were well as at 
 the beginning. They held joust and tourney as of old, 
 they hawked and hunted, and ever and again would ride 
 forth to assail the heathen who still troubled the utmost 
 border ; but though mighty deeds were still done, and 
 brave hearts still worshipped and honoured the King, 
 there was the old evil yet at work, and spreading like a 
 poisonous growth throughout the land. The madness 
 of Sir Lancelot and his wrestlings with himself when he 
 strove to obey the hermit's bidding and uproot his sin 
 had passed away. He had given up the struggle, he 
 had forgotten the King's words spoken to him when he 
 returned from the Quest of the Holy Grail, and he had 
 
 7 
 
98 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 become once more the Queen's willing slave. All men 
 knew of it, save only the King, for no man dared tell 
 him of the treachery, and he loved and trusted Lancelot 
 as his own soul. But there came a day when the thing 
 might no longer be hid, because Modred, the meanest 
 of the knights, who hated Lancelot and the Queen and 
 Arthur his lord, laid a trap whereby the falsehood of the 
 Queen was proved. Thereafter there was war between 
 Lancelot' and Arthur, but Queen Guinevere fled from 
 the Court, and took sanctuary at Almesbury, where she 
 abode many weeks unknown. But while Arthur and 
 Lancelot waged their war far in the North, Modred, who 
 coveted the throne for himself, had won over by bribes 
 the heathen from oversea, the Lords of the White Horse, 
 and had perverted also many of Arthur's own folk, and 
 now he raised a standard of revolt, and made proclama- 
 tion, saying, ' Modred is King !' 
 
 Arthur, therefore, made speedy end of the war with 
 Lancelot, and marched southward against Modred, 
 whose courage failed him as the King drew near, and 
 the King followed him as he fled ever toward the West 
 country. And on his way the King passed by Almes- 
 bury, where the Queen was in sanctuary, and there he 
 stayed his march to take his last farewell of her, for he 
 knew that he was going to his last battle on earth, and 
 that the Queen would never see his face again. 
 
 Now, the tale of their meeting, and of the Queen's 
 repentance for the wrong she had done against the King, 
 and of the King's forgiveness of her, is not to be told 
 here, but it is written in the book called ' Guinevere,' 
 one of the ' Idylls of the King.' And the same book tells 
 how Guinevere became a nun in the Abbey of Almes- 
 bury, and gave herself wholly to the life of prayer and 
 fasting and good deeds, till on the death of the Abbess, 
 
THE END OF THE ROUND TABLE 99 
 
 she, for her good deeds and for the purity of her life of 
 penitence, and also for the high place she had held as 
 Queen, was chosen Abbess. There she lived as Abbess 
 for three years, ruling her house with wisdom and gentle- 
 ness, and then her sorrows had an end, for the holy 
 sisters, going to her cell one morning, found their Abbess 
 lying dead, with a smile upon her face, that showed them 
 she had found eternal peace. 
 
 But now we must speak of King Arthur, when' he 
 parted from the Queen and marched westward. It was 
 the time of winter, and the mist of winter hung day and 
 night over the land, so that they scarce could find or 
 feel their way through it. There were but few of 
 Arthur's oldest knights left with him, but of these one 
 was Bedivere, a bold and trusty warrior, the same whom 
 at the beginning of his reign the King had sent to ask 
 Leodogran for his daughter's hand in marriage. He was 
 the first knight whom Arthur made, and he abode with 
 him to the end. And it was Bedivere who in after years 
 told the tale of the last battle, and of Arthur's passing 
 from the world. 
 
 He never lost his faith and trust in the King, though 
 he said it seemed at times as if the King had almost lost 
 faith in himself. For one night, on their westward 
 march, he. heard the King lamenting in his tent over the 
 failure of his life's work and purpose, saying to himself 
 that God had surely forsaken him, if indeed God cared 
 for the world of men at all, for he, the King, had wrought 
 and fought for God's cause all his life, and ngw wife and 
 friend and people had betrayed him, and there was no 
 sign that Heaven took any heed. So the King's sorrow 
 was very bitter, but at last his faith seemed to revive in 
 him, remembering the words of the Psalmist when he 
 was in heaviness, and the sorrows of death compassed 
 
 7—2 
 
100 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 him about, how he said : ' I shall not die, but live, and 
 declare the works of the Lord.' 
 
 Moreover, the King spoke to Sir Bedivere of a dream 
 in which he had seen the ghost of Gawain, who had 
 been slain in Lancelot's war, and the ghost had pro- 
 phesied, saying : ' Hail, King ! there is an isle of rest 
 awaiting thee, whereto after the battle thou shalt pass.' 
 But Bedivere answered the King in words of good com- 
 fort not to doubt or be dismayed, or hearken to dreams 
 and visions of the night, but to be up and doing, for 
 Modred and his men were hard at hand, and the King 
 should go forth even against this foe of his own house- 
 hold, and conquer as of old. 
 
 ' This is not a battle like those of old,' answered 
 Arthur, ' seeing it is against mine own people. How- 
 beit, as thou sayest, let us move hence and overtake the 
 foe.' 
 
 So on they marched, and Modred ever fell back before 
 the King till they reached the utmost bound of Lyon- 
 nesse in the West country. A wild coast it was, moun- 
 tainous, with a spread of barren sandy shore. Now it is 
 seen no longer, for the sea has swallowed it. There 
 Modred turned to bay, and on the last day of the year, 
 while still the thick mist lay upon land and sea, they 
 closed in battle. Many fights ere this had Arthur 
 fought, but none like to it for confusion and horror, for 
 the death- white fog chilled all men's hearts, nor might 
 Arthur or anyone discern whom he fought with, so that 
 friend slew friend unwittingly, both friend and foe being 
 like shadows in the mist. And many a brave deed was 
 done, and also many a base one, and all the air was 
 filled with the crash of splintering spears and the shatter- 
 ing of helm and harness under the blows of sword and 
 battleaxe, and the shouts of those who prevailed mingled 
 
THE END OF THE ROUND TABLE loi 
 
 with the shrieks and curses of the wounded, prayers for 
 the light, and groans of dying men. 
 
 All day long the battle endured, wrapped in the dense 
 mist, till toward evening a wind arose, blowing clear from 
 the north, and rolled the mist away, and then the moon 
 rose full and shone clearly. King Arthur looked over 
 the battle-field, and all was still. No man was moving, 
 nor was any voice to be heard either of Christian or 
 heathen. All lay dead, save only the King with Sir 
 Bedivere, and at a little distance apart there stood Sir 
 Modred the traitor, leaning upon his sword among a 
 great heap of slain men. ' Ah, woe is me !' cried King 
 Arthur to Sir Bedivere, ' that ever I should see this 
 dolorous day. Now do I seem to be King only among 
 the dead, nor do I rightly know within myself whether 
 I be a King at all.' ' Nay, my lord,' answered Sir Bedi- 
 vere, ' King thou art, and King thou shalt be everywhere 
 for me ; yea, even among the dead. And thy life is yet 
 whole in thee, and I who love thee still live ; but behold 
 yonder where stands unwounded he who hath wrought 
 all this woe, and hates thee — Modred, the traitor of thy 
 house.' ' Call not him one of my house,' answered 
 Arthur. ' No kin of mine is he who hath lifted up his 
 hand against me in treachery. But thou sayest well in 
 this dark hour of mine that for thee I still am King. 
 Yea, I am the King, no matter what they say, and thou 
 shalt see one more deed done worthy of a King before I 
 go hence and am no more seen.' With those words the 
 King made at Sir Modred, and Modred smote his liege 
 lord deep through crest and helmet to the bone ; and 
 Arthur, uplifting the good sword Excalibur for the last 
 great stroke, slew Modred at one blow, and then himself 
 fell stricken well-nigh to death. 
 
 So the great battle ended ; every man, save only Bedi- 
 
I02 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 vere the bold and faithful knight, had fallen dead or 
 dying 'in Lyonnesse beside the sea. Then, seeing that 
 King Arthur's wound was deep and grievous. Sir Bedi- 
 vere took him in his arms and bore him to a little ruined 
 chapel near the field of battle. It stood on a narrow 
 strait of waste land, the ocean being on the one side of 
 it, and on the other side a great mere, on which the 
 moon shone brightly. ' Now,' said the King, ' the Round 
 Table is come to an end, which was the goodliest fellow- 
 ship of knights this world has ever known. All, all are 
 dead, the men I loved. Never more shall we meet in 
 joyous converse in Camelot's halls and gardens as of 
 old. I made this realm and people, and they have been 
 my death, though yet I hold by Merlin's prophecy that 
 I shall come again 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 this, therefore : take my good 
 sword, which long ago was given me by the Lady of the 
 Lake (for thou rememberest how the mystic arm rose 
 up from the surface of the water, and gave the sword 
 into my hand) — 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 
 again.' 
 
 ' My lord,' answered Sir Bedivere, ' it is against my 
 will to leave thee thus, alone and wounded ; yet thy 
 command shall be done, and lightly I will bring thee 
 word again.' And so Sir Bedivere went forth from the 
 ruined shrine, passing among the tombs that stood around 
 it, where the bones of many mighty men lay mouldering, 
 and climbing by a rugged, zigzag path down the crags, 
 he reached the level water of the mere. He drew forth 
 Excalibur, and as he drew it, the moon came out from 
 
THE END OF THE ROUND TABLE 103 
 
 behind a cloud and sparkled in the keen frosty air upon 
 the hilt, for the hilt was all encrusted with gems, sapphire, 
 topaz, diamond, and jacinth, a miracle of jewel-work. 
 And as Bedivere gazed, his eyes were dazzled, and his 
 purpose wavered, for he could not bring himself to cast 
 away a thing so precious. Therefore he determined to 
 leave Excalibur hidden among the bulrushes beside the 
 water's edge, and slowly he strode back to the wounded 
 King. ' Hast thou done my bidding ?' said Arthur. 
 ' What hast thou seen or heard ?' And Bedivere 
 answered : ' I heard the water lapping on the rocks, 
 and washing among the reeds.' ' That is untruly 
 spoken, and unlike thy nature,' said the King. ' It is 
 unworthy a noble knight to speak falsely. 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 again 
 lightly, and spare not to fling the sword. Watch what 
 thou seest, and bring me word again.' So Sir Bedivere 
 went the second time, and took Excalibur up from among 
 the reeds, and as he gazed upon it, it seemed again 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 
 said. ' What harm if I do it not ? Much harm in dis- 
 obedience, doubtless ; but how if the King demand what 
 is unprofitable ? Were it well to obey then ? Surely 
 the King is sick with his wound, and knows not what he 
 says. And if the sword be lost, 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 honour.' Therefore he 
 left Excalibur hidden the second time, and strode slowly 
 back to the King. 
 
 And Arthur asked him again : ' What is it thou hast" 
 
I04 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 seen or heard ?' And Bedivere made answer as he had 
 done before : ' I heard the water washing in the reeds 
 and lapping on the rocks.' ' Ah, traitor, unkind, untrue !' 
 said King Arthur. ' Woe is me that my authority for- 
 sakes me in my dying hour ! Thou, the last of all my 
 knights left to me, who shouldest unite the love and 
 loyal obedience of all, thou wouldest betray me for the 
 sake of the precious hilt, either for the lust of the eyes 
 or lust of gold. But now, get thee hence once more, for 
 though a man has failed twice in his duty, yet he may 
 prosper the third time. Begone ; only if now thou fling 
 not Excalibur, I will arise and slay thee with my 
 hands.' 
 
 Then Bedivere made haste, and leaped down the 
 craggy path to the water, and caught the sword up from 
 the bulrushes, and wheeled and flung it with all the 
 might he had. Round and round flashed and whirled 
 the great brand in the brightness of the moon, gleaming 
 and glancing like the quivering fires of the Northern 
 Lights among the icebergs of the Polar Sea. 
 
 But ere the sword might reach the water, an arm rose 
 up from out of the lake, clothed in white samite, and 
 ca'ught the hilt, and so brandished Excalibur three times, 
 and then vanished with the sword beneath the mere. 
 
 And lightly went Sir Bedivere to the King. 
 
 ' Now,' said the King, ' I see by thine eyes that thou 
 hast done it. Tell me, what hast thou seen or heard ?' 
 And Bedivere told the King how he had flung the sword, 
 and how the arm clothed in white samite had caught 
 and waved it thrice, and drawn it down under the wave. 
 'Ah,' said Arthur, 'help me from hence, for my end 
 draws nigh, and I fear my wound has taken cold, for I 
 have tarried over-long.' 
 
 So Bedivere, with tears, knelt down and lifted up the 
 
THE END OF THE ROUND TABLE 105 
 
 King, and with all care and heedfulness he bore him 
 through the place of tombs and down the rocks to the 
 water-side, with bitterness in his heart for that by his 
 delay he had put his lord's life in jeopardy. Then, as 
 they came to the great water that shone under the moon, 
 they were aware of a dusky barge that moved toward 
 them, and as it drew near they saw that all the decks 
 were thronged with forms clothed in black raiment, and 
 with black hoods that hid their faces. And among them 
 were three queens with crowns of gold upon their heads, 
 who, seeing Arthur, raised a great cry of lamentation 
 that spread itself and echoed mournfully among the 
 rocky caves and chasms, and seemed to go up into the 
 vault of heaven and die among the stars. 
 
 ' Now,' murmured the King, ' place me in the barge,' 
 and Bedivere did so as softly and gently as he might. 
 And the three queens put forth their hands and took the 
 King, and ever they wept and wailed ; but the tallest 
 and fairest of these queens took his head upon her lap, 
 and called him by his name and spoke to him, while her 
 tears dropped on his face, for the sight of him was very 
 piteous, so pale and blood-stained was he, as he lay 
 there hke a shattered column. How changed from that 
 Arthur of old days who rode in shining armour like a 
 star, leading his knights to the charge in war or tourna- 
 ment ! 
 
 Thus Sir Bedivere was left upon the shore, and he 
 cried aloud : ' Ah, my lord Arthur, what shall become of 
 me now thou art gone from me ? Whither shall I go 
 now I am left alone ? for the old days are ■ dead when 
 knighthood was in its glory, and the Round Table was 
 an image of the mighty world. There have been no 
 such times as those since the Star that led the three 
 Wise Men to Bethlehem. But now all are gone, and I 
 
io6 TALES FROM TENNYSON 
 
 go forth alone to live my life with those who know me 
 not.' 
 
 Then answered Arthur : ' The old order changeth, 
 yielding place to new; and God has many ways of 
 accomplishing His purposes, often changing them lest 
 usage unchanged, however good it be, should make 
 men's hearts grow slothful and corrupt. Comfort thy- 
 self, for in me there is no comfort for thee to trust in. 
 My life's work is done, and I pray God to accept and 
 purify it for Himself. Do thou, too, pray ; pray for my 
 soul if thou seest me no more. There is more force in 
 prayer than most men dream of ; it is the golden chain 
 that links this earth to Heaven and the throne of God. 
 But now farewell. Far hence am I going. If I go — for 
 my mind is dim with doubt — I go to the island-valley 
 of Avilion, where never comes hail or snow or storm- 
 wind, nor sun's heat burns, but all things rest and thrive 
 amid wooded meadows ringed round with summer sea. 
 And there will I heal me of my grievous wound.' 
 
 When King Arthur ceased from speaking, the barge 
 moved from the shore with oarage and sails, and Sir 
 Bedivere stood and gazed upon it as it slowly grew less 
 and less, and the voices of those lamenting grew fainter 
 in the distance. But when the sound of their wailing 
 had wholly died away, he turned and slowly climbed the 
 path up the crags, pondering in his mind the King's last 
 words, and the weird rhyme that Merlin had made : 
 ' From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' And 
 as he thought on these things, he marvelled whether the 
 King were destined to come again to rule once more, 
 and whether the three dark queens in the dark barge 
 were not the same with those three who at Arthur's 
 enthronement stood beside him clothed in light, friends 
 of Arthur, to help him at his need. 
 
THE END OF THE ROUND TABLE 107 
 
 Then, looking once more far as his eye could see, he 
 saw, or thought he saw still, the barge bearing the King, 
 a mere speck on the verge of dawn, and as he looked, 
 there was borne to his ears from afar the jubilant sound 
 of a triumphant welcome, the voice, as it were, of the 
 people of a great city, who rejoiced with one accord with 
 music and singing around their King returning from his 
 wars. 
 
 Then the new sun rose, bringing the new year 
 
NOTES 
 
 AsTOLAT. — The home of the ' lily-maid ' Elaine is identified by 
 Malory with Guildford. His words are : ' And then he (Lancelot) 
 rode so much until he came to Astolat — that is, Guildford — and 
 there it happened him in the eventide he came to an old baron's 
 place that hight Sir Bernard of Astolat.' In Malory's account the 
 dead maiden is borne in a litter to the Thames at its nearest point 
 to Astolat, and thence rowed by the old servitor down to West- 
 minster, where Arthur's Court was being held. Malory's Camelot 
 is Winchester, and to one journeying from London to Winchester, 
 Guildford would be a natural half-way resting-place. Tennyson's 
 geography is vague. The Court is certainly in London or West- 
 minster, 
 
 ' Hard on the river, nigh the place which now 
 Is this world's hugest '; 
 
 but Astolat is somewhere below London, as the barge, ' oared by 
 the dumb, went upward with the flood.' His Camelot, therefore, can 
 scarcely be Winchester, and still less the Cadbury Castle of Somer- 
 set, which perhaps has the best traditional right to the name. It is 
 probably better, on the whole, to leave the Laureate's geography to 
 the latitude and longitude of Romance — and Wonderland. 
 
 Battles, the Twelve. — The ' twelve great battles ' of the King 
 are mentioned in several of the Idylls, viz. : ' The Coming of Arthur,' 
 line 517 ; 'Lancelot and Elaine,' lines 285 sqq., ' The Holy Grail,' 
 line 250. 
 
 In ' Lancelot and Elaine,' Lancelot gives his host at Astolat what 
 purports to be a complete list of the battles, 
 
 ' As having been 
 With Arthur in the fight which all day long 
 Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem ; 
 And in the four loud battles by the shore 
 Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war 
 That thundered in and out the gloomy skirts 
 Of Celidon the forest ; and again 
 By Castle Gurnion. . 
 
NOTES 109 
 
 And at Caerleon had he helped his lord . . . 
 
 And up in Agned-Cathregonian too, 
 
 And down the waste sand-shores of Trath-Treroit, 
 
 Where many a heathen fell : " and on the Mount 
 
 Of Badon I myself beheld the King 
 
 Charge at the head of all his Table Round." ' 
 
 These names all occur in the old chronicle of Nennius, who lived 
 in the seventh century ; but, except in the case of the last and 
 greatest, the battles can scarcely be regarded as historical. ' It is 
 in the battle of Badon Hill,' says Professor Church in his ' Early 
 Britain,' ' that the great British champion Arthur seems to come for 
 an instant out of the darkness with which he is surrounded. The 
 fight at Badon Hill is the one event in his long struggle with the 
 invaders which seems historical.' The best authorities agree in 
 fixing the date of the battle at 520 ; but as regards the locality, there 
 is considerable difference of opinion. Judge Hughes {' Tom 
 Brown ' Hughes) in his ' Scouring of the White Horse,' says : ' Now, 
 in the year a.d. 520, according to Gildas and Bede, Arthur gained 
 his twelfth victory at Mons Badonicus, which might very well be 
 Baydon Hill which you see over there ' (some four or five miles from 
 White Horse Hill in West Berks). Professor Church places it near 
 Bath, where a suitable open space called Banner Down has been 
 selected. A third conjecture, however, is in favour of Badbury 
 Rings, near Wimborne, in Dorsetshire, concerning which I venture 
 to insert a memorandum very kindly compiled for me by R. Coward, 
 Esq., of Bath, who is a well-known authority on the archaeology of 
 Wilts and Dorset. He says; ' In an article in the " Handbook of 
 Bath," published in 1888, for the meeting of the British Association, 
 Professor Earle, of Oxford, writes : ' ' The memorable siege of Mons 
 Badonicus, where the Walas dealt a severe blow upon the Saxons, 
 has been fixed by the help of data in the book of Gildas to the year 
 520. Dr. Guest identified Mons Badonicus with Badbury Rings, 
 near Wimborne, and that identification is now generally accepted. 
 Previously it had been identified with Bath, and Banner Down was 
 the spot fixed on for the battlefield, because it seemed to offer a sort 
 of translation of Mons Badonicus, as well as a vague echo in 
 similarity of sound. But it was upon Bath that the word fastened 
 itself etymologically, as if Badonicus were equal to Bathonicus, 
 which might pass for an adjective of Bathonia. It did not trouble 
 the old antiquaries that they were elucidating a word of the sixth 
 
no NOTES 
 
 century by the help of another word which had no existence until 
 the tenth." ' 
 
 Thus far Professor Earle. Mr. Coward continues : ' In the above 
 Professor Earle appears to give his entire assent to the place and 
 time fixed by Dr. Guest. And the way Dr. Guest would appear to 
 have reached his conclusion would be this: In the twenty-sixth 
 section of Gildas's History we find him saying : " After this, some- 
 times our countrymen, sometimes the enemy, won the field, to the 
 end that our Lord might in this land try, after His accustomed 
 manner, these His Israelites, whether they loved Him or not, until 
 the year of the siege of Bath Hill (Mons Badonicus) ; when took 
 place also the last almost, though not the least, slaughter of our 
 cruel foes, forty-four years (as I am sure) and one month after the 
 landing of the Saxons, and also the time of my own nativity." The 
 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle states that in ad. 449 Hengist and Horsa 
 brought the Angles, and that in a.d. 477 MUa and his three sons 
 came to the land of Britain with three ships. . . Now, the Saxons 
 are always coupled with jElla and his sons, so that he would have 
 reckoned the forty-four years from the landing of jEUa in a.d. 477, 
 which would bring the date of the battle to a.d 521, which I have 
 somewhere else seen as the date which Dr. Guest fixed. If the 
 Doctor is right , Arthur could scarcely have " passed ' ' {as is suggested 
 by some) in 516. I see Bede, in his History, chapter xvi., agrees 
 with Gildas in the interval of forty-four years ; but in both cases the 
 starting-point is left somewhat obscure. 
 
 ' Badbury Rings is a remarkably strong old British camp, with a 
 double or treble row of entrenchments which might well have held 
 the Saxons in check, and would better accord with the idea of 
 a siege. The arrival of the Saxons here (Bath) would appear to 
 have been much later. The Battle of Deorham, when Bath fell into 
 their power, was fought a.d. 577. So I fear we at Bath must give 
 up the honour of our city or its neighbourhood being the scene of 
 Arthur's great victory.' 
 
 Caerleon-upon-Usk. — The Isca Silurum of the Romans, seven 
 miles west from its companion city Caerwent. Very extensive 
 Roman remains have been found here, amongst them some fine 
 tessellated pavements. Giraldus Cambrensis describes ruins existing 
 in his day (twelfth century) of temples, theatres, high walls and 
 towers ; so that, bearing in mind the civilization which Rome had 
 
NOTES III 
 
 implanted in Britain, the splendours of Arthur's Court and of 
 Merlin's architecture may, after all, not be greatly overdrawn. 
 
 ExcALiBUR. — Enchanted swords play an important part in old 
 myths and romances of many nations. They bear appropriate 
 names, as, for instance, Morglay, 'Blade of Death,' Sir Bevis of 
 Hamtoun's weapon; Gram, 'the Wrath,' of Sigurd the Volsung. 
 Readers of Kingsley's ' Hereward the Wake ' will remember ' Brain- 
 biter,' and Eric Brighteyes' ' Whitefire ' has many prototypes in 
 Norse Sagas. The name Excalibur means, according to Malory, 
 ' Cut-steel.' It is said in the French romance of Merlin to be a 
 Hebrew 'word, meaning ' cut steel and iron ' {trancher acisr et fer. 
 See Professor Rowe's note on the ' Coming of Arthur '). The com- 
 parison of the sword flashing in the air to the Aurora Borealis 
 (Tale VI.) may be suggested by Malory's description that ' it was 
 so bright in his enemies' eyes that it gave light like thirty torches.' 
 
 The Holy Grail. — The word Grail is also spelt graal, greal, 
 and greall, and in Malory is always a compound word — Sangreal or 
 Sancgreal — of which Tennyson's expression is a translation. 
 According to Malory, who follows the old legends, it is the vessel 
 in which Joseph of Arimathsea received some of the sacred blood 
 from our lord's wounds at His crucifixion. In Tennyson's version, 
 it is the cup used for the wine at the institution of the Sacrament of 
 the Lord's Supper. 
 
 An emerald dish of hexagonal shape, preserved in the cathedral 
 at Genoa, is said to be the original Holy Grail. The word Grail is 
 probably derived from the Low Latin crateUa, diminutive of crater, 
 a mixing-bowl. 
 
 Samite. — A kind of rich silk woven with threads of gold or silver; 
 derivation, ej, six, and lUTbi, thread ; literally, therefore, ' woven 
 with six threads.' Malory's description of the arm that upheld the 
 sword above the lake ' clothed in white samite ' is adapted by 
 Tennyson as a ' fixed epithet ' of the arm. In ' Lancelot and Elaine ' 
 the King sits as arbiter of the lists ' robed in red samite,' and 
 Elaine's barge is ' palled in blackest samite.' In the Holy GraiU 
 the Grail itself is seen by Percivale ' clothed in white samite,' and 
 by Lancelot ' palled in crimson samite. ' 
 
 Table, The Round. — Malory's account of the Round Table is 
 that it was a marriage present sent by Leodogran with Guinevere 
 
112 NOTES 
 
 to Arthur. Leodogran himself had received it as a gift from Uthe 
 Pendragon, Arthur's supposed father. It contained seats for 150 
 knights. ' It was made round,' says Malory, • by Merlin in token 
 of the roundness of the world, for by the Round Table is the world 
 signified by right.' Compare in ' Guinevere ': 
 
 ' My Table Round, 
 A glorious company, the flower of men. 
 To serve as model for the mighty world '; 
 
 and in the ' Passing of Arthur ': 
 
 ' But now the whole Round Table is dissolved. 
 Which was an image of the mighty world.' 
 
 It was to be a presentment of the world in shape (the earth being 
 regarded as a flat surface), and its fellowship of knights an ideal of 
 character for the world to follow. Edward III. founded the Order 
 of the Garter in imitation of Arthur's Rbund Table. Froissart, in 
 his 'Chronicles,' says: 'At this time (1344) Edward, King of 
 England, resolved to rebuild the great castle of Windsor, formerly 
 built and founded by King Arthur, and where was first set up and 
 established the noble Round Table, from whence so many valiant 
 men and knights have issued forth to perform feats of arms and 
 prowess through the world.' 
 
 The great keep or Round Tower at Windsor was built to contain 
 the Round Table, which appears from the descriptions to have been 
 shaped more like a horseshoe than a circle. It was made out of 
 fifty-two oaks brought from Reading. 
 
 There is a huge oaken table still preserved at Winchester, which 
 is popularly called King Arthur's Table. There are also grassy 
 amphitheatres in various parts of the country which are called 
 ' Round Tables,' as at Penrith and Caerleon. They are probably 
 of Roman origin, and may have been used for tournaments in the 
 Middle Ages. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.