in 
 
39086 
 
 Libr«py Of Goricfress* 
 
 'wo CuPtfS WfCEivED 
 
 AUG 21 1900 
 
 Copyright fyitry 
 
 StCONO COPY. 
 
 Delivered to 
 
 OROEf^ DIVISION, 
 
 -SEP 1 1900 
 
 COPYKIGHT, 1900, BY W. B. CONKEY COMPANY. 
 
 74008 
 
IDYLLS or 
 
 THE KING 
 
 BY 
 
 lord' TENNYSON 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 W. B. CON KEY COMPANY 
 
 HLBLISHEKS 
 
-s^ 
 
 c% 
 
 ■^^n'^.V 
 
 ^^ 
 
/ 4^^ 
 
 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 These to His Memory-since he held them dear, 
 Perchance as finding there unconsciously- 
 Some image of himself — I dedicate, 
 I dedicate, I consecrate with tears — 
 These Idylls. 
 
 And indeed He seems to me 
 Scarce other than my king's ideal knight, 
 "Who reverenced his conscience as his king; 
 Whose glory was, redressing human wrong 
 Who spake no slander, no, nor listen'd to it 
 Who loved one only and who clave to her — ' 
 Her — over all whose realms to their last isle, 
 Commingled with the gloom of imminent war. 
 The shadow of His loss drew like eclipse, 
 Darkening the world. We have lost him : he 
 
 is gone : 
 We knew him now: all narrow jealousies 
 Are silent : and we see him as he moved, 
 How modest, kindly, all accom^plish'd, wise. 
 With what sublime repression of himself. 
 And in what limits, and how tenderly^ 
 Not swaying to this faction or to that. 
 Not making his high place the lawless perch 
 Of wing'd ambitions, nor a vantage-ground 
 3 
 
4 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 For pleasure; but thro' all this tract of years 
 Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, 
 Before a thousand peering littlenesses, 
 In that fierce light which beats upon a throne. 
 And blackens every blot: for where is he 
 Who dares foreshadow for an only son 
 A lovelier life, a more unstain'd, than his? 
 Or how should England dreaming of his sons 
 Hope more for these than some inheritance 
 Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine, 
 Thou noble Father of her Kings to be. 
 Laborious for her people and her poor- 
 Voice in the rich down of an ampler day — 
 Far-sighted summoner of War and Waste 
 To fruitful strifes and rivalries of peace; 
 Sweet nature gilded by the gracious gleam 
 Of letters, dear to Science, dear to Art, 
 Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince indeed, 
 Beyond all titles, and a household name. 
 Hereafter, thro' all times Albert the Good. 
 
 Break not, O woman's heart, but still endure : 
 Break not, for thou art Royal, but endure. 
 Remembering all the beauty of that star 
 Which shone so close beside Thee that ye made 
 One light together, but has past and leaves 
 The Crown a lonely splendour. 
 
 May all love. 
 His love, unseen but felt, o'ershadow Thee, 
 The love of all Thy sons encompass Thee, 
 The love of all Thy daughters cherish Thee, 
 The love of all Thy people comfort Thee, 
 Till God's love set Thee at his side again! 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 
 
 Leodlogran/ the King bf Gameliard, 
 Had one fair daughter, and none other child; 
 And she was fairest of all flesh on earth, 
 Guinevere, and in her his one delight. 
 
 For many a petty king ere Arthur came 
 Ruled m this isle, and ever waging war 
 Each upon other, wasted all the laiid ; 
 And still from time to time the heathen host 
 Swarm 'd overseas, and harried what was left. 
 And so there grew great tracts of wilderness, 
 Wherein the beast was ever more and more. 
 But man was less and less, till Arthur came. 
 For first Aurelius lived and fought and died. 
 And after him King Uther fought and died. 
 But either fail'd to make the kingdom one. 
 And after these King Arthur for a space, 
 And thro' the puissance of his Table Round, 
 Drew all their petty princedoms under him, 
 Their king and head, and made a realm, and 
 reign 'd. 
 
 And thus the land of Gameliard was waste 
 Thick with wet woods, and many a bea^- 
 
 therein. 
 And none or few to scare or chase the l^east; 
 So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear 
 
8 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Came night and day, and rooted in the fields, 
 And wallow'd in the gardens of the King. 
 And ever and anon the wolf would steal 
 The children and devour, but now and then, 
 Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat 
 To human sucklings ; and the children, housed 
 In her foul den, there at their meat would 
 
 growl, 
 And mock their foster-mother on four feet, 
 Till, straighten 'd, they grew up to wolf -like 
 
 men. 
 Worse than the wolves. And King Leodogran 
 Groan 'd for the Roman legions here again, 
 And Caesar's ea^le : then his bro1/her king, 
 Urien, assail'd him: last! a heathjen horde. 
 Reddening the *un with smoke ^d earth with 
 
 blood, 
 And on the spike that split the mother's heart 
 Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed. 
 He knew not whither he should turn for aid. 
 
 feut^-forjifi hftgird of Ajthur newly-crown ' d , 
 ThoIISoSIiwTrhQutw^iI^irpro^^ made_ by those 
 Who cried, *'Hei^ot Uthef's son'' — ^^the King 
 S'eht to him, saying, "Arise, and help us thou! 
 For here between the man and beast we die. " 
 
 And Arthur /et had done no deed of arms, 
 But heard the call, and came: and Guinevere 
 Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass; 
 But since he neither wore on helm or shield 
 -^he golden symbol of his kinglihood. 
 But .jQtie a simple knight among his knights, 
 And niuny of these in richer arms than he, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 7 
 
 She saw him not, or mark'd not, if she saw, 
 One among many, tho' his face was bare. 
 But Arthur, looking downward as he past. 
 Felt the light of her eyes into his life 
 Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitch'd 
 His tents beside the forest. Xlieft-he-drave""^ 
 XheUlsatlien ; a^ter, slew the beast, and feU'd 
 The forest^ Te'fl'ino: in the sun, and niadTe 
 Broad pafK\vays for the hunter ,^ixdtfte"k'nigbt| 
 And^so returned. 
 
 For while he linger'd there, 
 A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts 
 Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm 
 Flash'd forth and into war: for most of these, 
 Colleaguing with a score of petty kings. 
 Made head against him, crying, "Who is he 
 That he should rule us? who hath proven him 
 King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him. 
 And find not face nor hearing, limbs nor voice, 
 Are like to those of Uther whom we knew, 
 This is the son of Gorlois, not the King; 
 This is the son of Anton, not the King." 
 
 And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt 
 Travail, and throes and agonies of the life, 
 Desiring to be join'd with Guinevere; 
 And thinking as he rode, "Her father said 
 That there between the man and beast they die. 
 Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts 
 Up to my throne, and side by side with me? 
 What happiness to reign a lonely king, 
 Vext — O yet stars that shudder over me, 
 O earth that soundest hollow under me. 
 
8 IDYLLS OF THE KING 
 
 Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be join'd 
 To her that is the fairest under heaven, 
 I seem as nothing- in the mighty world, 
 And cannot will my will, nor work my work 
 Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm 
 Victor and Lord But were I join'd with her, 
 Then might we live together as one life 
 And reigning with one will in everything 
 Have power on this dark land to lighten it, 
 And power on this dead world to make it live. " 
 
 Thereafter — as he speaks who tells the tale — 
 When Arthur reach 'd a field-of-battle bright 
 With pitch 'd pavilions of his foe, the world 
 Was all so clear about him, that he saw 
 The smallest rock far on the faintest hill, 
 And even in high day the morning star. 
 So when the King had set his banner broad, 
 At once from either side, with trumpet-blast, 
 And shouts, and clarions shrilling unto blood, 
 The long-lanced battle let their horses run. 
 -4Hi,?i?-W .-tixe BaroQs and the kings prevail.' d^ 
 And'now the King, as here and there that war 
 'W ent swaying; but the P ow^;;8»aY.ho walk tne" 
 
 Made-lrg^tnings and great thunders over him,- 
 And dazed all eyes, till Arthur by main might, 
 ■"And mightier of his hands, with every blow. 
 And leading all his knighthood threw the ki.n4;s 
 .Carados, Urien, Cradlemont of Wales, 
 Claudias, and Clarianee of Northumberland, 
 
 '-f he King Brandagoras of Latarigof; " 
 
 Win. Anguisant of Erin, Morganore,.,. 
 nd Lot of Orkney. Then, before a.js[Qice 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 9 
 
 As dreadful as the shout of one who sees 
 To one who sins, and deems himself alone. 
 And all the world asleep, they swerved^and 
 
 brake ■" ^ 
 
 Flying, and ArtliijX.j&a-lUd to stay th e brands 
 Tliat hack'd among the fivers,"" "'^H'ol they 
 
 - yield!" ' ■"'•^ 
 
 wSo like a painted battle the war stood 
 Silenced, the living- quiet as the dead, 
 And in the heart of Arthur joy w^as lord. 
 He laugh' d upon his warrior whom he loved 
 And honour' d most. "Thou dost not doubt me 
 
 King, 
 So well thine arm hath wrought for me to- 
 day. ' ' 
 **Sir and my liege," he cried, "the fire of God 
 Descends upon thee in the battle-field ; 
 I know thee for my King!" Whereat the two, 
 For each had warded either in the fight, 
 Sware on the field of death a deathless love. 
 And Arthur said, "Man's word is God in man: 
 I^et chance what will, I trust thee to the 
 death. " 
 
 Then quickly from the foughten field he sent 
 Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere, 
 His new-made knights, to King Leodogran, 
 Saying, "If I in aught have served thee well, 
 Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife." 
 
 Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heart 
 Debating — "How should I that am a king. 
 However much he holp me at my need. 
 Give my one daughter saving to a kiflg" 
 
 2 Idylls 
 
10 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And a king's son?" — lifted his voice, and call'd 
 A hoary man, his chamberlain, to whom 
 He trusted all things, and of him required 
 His counsel: "Knowest thou aught of Arthur's 
 birth?" 
 
 Then spake the hoary chamberlain and said, 
 * ' Sir King, there be but two old men that know : 
 And each is twice as old as I ; and one 
 Is Merlin, the wise man that ever served 
 King Uther thro' his magic art; and one 
 Is Merlin's master (so they call him) Bleys, 
 Who taught him magic ; but the scholar ran 
 Before the master, and so far, that Bleys 
 Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wrote 
 All things and whatsoever Merlin did 
 In one great annal-book, where after-years 
 Will learn the secret of our Arthur's birth." 
 
 To whom the King Leodogran replied, 
 **0 friend, had I been holpen half as well 
 By this King Arthur as by thee to-day, 
 Then beast and man had had their share of me : 
 But summon here before us yet once more 
 Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere. " 
 
 Then, when they came before him, the King 
 said, 
 *'I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl, 
 And reason in the chase ; but wherefore now 
 Do these your lords stir up the heat of war, 
 ^me calling Arthur born of Gorlois, 
 Others of Anton? Tell me, ye yourselves, 
 Hold y^. this Arthur for King Uther's son?" 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 11 
 
 And Ulfius and Brastias answer'd, "Ay." 
 Then Bedivere, the first of all his knights 
 Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake — 
 For bold in heart and act and word was he, 
 Whenever slander breathed against the king — 
 
 **Sir, there be many rumors on this head: 
 For there be those who hate him in their hearts, 
 Call him baseborn,and since his ways are sweet. 
 And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man, 
 And there be those who deem him more than 
 
 man, 
 And dream he dropt from heaven : but my belief 
 In all this matter — so ye care to learn — 
 Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's time 
 The prince and warrior Gorlois, he that held 
 Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea. 
 Was wedded with a winsome wife. Ygerne : 
 And daughters had she borne him, — one 
 
 whereof, 
 Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent, 
 Hath ever like a loyal sister cleaved 
 To Arthur, — but a son she had not borne. 
 And Uther cast upon her eyes of love : 
 But she, a stainless wife to Gorlois, 
 So loathed the bright dishonor of his love. 
 That Gorlois and King Uther went to war: 
 And overthrown was Gorlois and slain. 
 Then Uther in his wrath and heat besieged 
 Ygerne within Tintagil, w^here her m.en. 
 Seeing the mighty swarm about their walls. 
 Left her and fled, and Uther enter'd in, 
 And there was none to call to but himself. 
 So compass'd by the power of the King, 
 
12 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Enforc'd she was to wed him in her tears, 
 And with a shameful swiftness: afterward, 
 Not many moons, King Uther died himself, 
 Moaning and wailing for an heir to rule 
 After him, lest the realm should go to wrack. 
 And that same night, the night of the new 
 
 year. 
 By reason of the bitterness and grief 
 That vext his mother, all before his time 
 Was Arthur born, and all as soon as born 
 Deliver'd at a secret postern-gate 
 To Merlin, to be holden far apart 
 Until his hour should come ; because the lords 
 Of that fierce day were as the lords of this, 
 Wild beasts, and surely would have torn the 
 
 child . 
 Piecemeal among them, had they known ; for 
 
 each 
 But sought to rule for his own self and hand, 
 And many hated Uther for the sake 
 Of Gorlois. Wherefore Merlin took the child. 
 And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knight 
 And ancient friend of Uther; and his wife 
 Nursed the young prince, and rear'd him with 
 
 her own; 
 And no man knew. And ever since the lords 
 Have foughten like wild beasts among them- 
 selves, 
 So that the realm has gone to wrack : but now. 
 This year, when Merlin (for his hour had come) 
 Brought Arthur forth, and set him in the hall. 
 Proclaiming, *Here is Uther 's heir, your king, ' 
 A hundred voices cried, 'Away with him! 
 No king of ours ! a son of Gorlois he, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 13 
 
 Or else the child of Anton, and no king, 
 Or else baseborn. ' Yet Merlin thro' his craft, 
 And while the people clamor'd for a king, 
 Had Arthur crown'd; but after, the great lords 
 Banded, and so brake out in open war. ' ' 
 
 Then while the King debated with himself 
 If Arthur were the child of shameful ness, 
 Or born the son of Gorlois, after death, 
 Or Uther's son, and born before his time, 
 Or whether there was truth in anything 
 Said by these three, there came to Cameliard, 
 With Gawain and 5^oung Modred, her two sons. 
 Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent; 
 Whom as he could, not as he would, the King 
 Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat, 
 
 *'A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas, 
 Ye come from Arthur's court. Victor his men 
 Report him! Yea, but ye — think ye this king — 
 So many those that hate him, and so strong. 
 So few his knights, however brave they be — 
 Hath body enow to hold his foemen down?" 
 
 "O King," she cried, "and I will tell thee; 
 few. 
 Few but all brave, all of one mind with him; 
 For I was near him when the savage yells 
 Of Uther's peerage died, and Arthur sat 
 Crown'd on the dais, and his warriors cried, 
 *Be thou the king, and we Vv411 work thy will 
 Who love thee. ' Then the King in low deep 
 
 tones 
 And simple words of great authority. 
 
14 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Bound them by so straight vows to his own self^ 
 That when they rose, knighted from kneeling^ 
 
 some 
 Were pale as at the passing of a ghost, 
 Some flush 'd, and others dazed, as one whg 
 
 wakes 
 Half -blinded at the coming of a light. 
 
 *' But when he spake and cheer' d his Table 
 Round 
 
 AVith large, divine and comfortable words 
 Beyond my tongue to tell thee — I beheld 
 From eye to eye thro' all their Order flash 
 A momentary likeness of the King : 
 And ere it left their faces, thro' the cross 
 And those around it and the Crucified, 
 Down from the casement over Arthur, smote 
 Flame-color, vert and azure, in three rays, 
 One falling upon each of three fair queens, 
 Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends 
 Of Arthur, gazing on him, tell, with bright 
 Sweet faces, who will help him at his need. 
 
 "And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast 
 wit 
 And hundred winters are but as the hands 
 Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege. 
 
 "And near him stood the Lady of the Lake, 
 Who knows a subtler magic than his own — 
 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
 She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword^ 
 Whereby to drive the heathen out : a mist 
 Of incense curl'd about her, and her face 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 15 
 
 Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom ; 
 But there was heard among the holy hymns 
 A voice as of the waters, for she dwells 
 'Down in a deep, calm, whatsoever storms 
 May shake the world, and when the surface 
 
 rolls, 
 Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord. 
 
 "There likewise I beheld Excalibur 
 Before him at his crowning borne, the sword 
 That rose from out the bosom of the lake, 
 And Arthur row'd across and took it — rich 
 With jewels, elfin L'rim, on the hilt, 
 Bewildering heart and eye — the blade so bright 
 That men are blinded by it — on one side, 
 Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world, 
 'Take me,* but turn the blade and ye shall 
 
 see, 
 And written in the speech ye speak yourself, 
 Xast me away!' And sad was Arthur's face 
 Taking it, but old Merlin counsel' d him, 
 'Take thou and strike! the time to cast away 
 Is yet far off. ' So this great brand the king 
 Took, and by this will beat his foemen down." 
 
 Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought 
 To sift his doubtings to the last, and ask'd, 
 Fixing full eyes of question on her face 
 "The swallow and the swift are near akin, 
 But thou art closer to this noble prince, 
 Being his own dear sister;" and she said, 
 "Daughter of Gorlois and Ygerne am I;" 
 "And therefore Arthur's sister?" ask'd the 
 King. 
 
16 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 She answer'd, ** These be secret things," and 
 
 sign'd 
 To those two sons to pass and let them be. 
 And Gawain went, and breaking into song 
 Sprang out, and follow'd by his flying hair 
 Ran like a colt, and leaped at all he saw : 
 But Modred laid his ear beside the doors. 
 And there half-heard ; the same that afterward 
 Struck for the throne, and striking found his 
 
 doom. 
 
 And then the queen made answer, "What 
 
 know I? 
 For dark my mother was in eyes and hair, 
 And dark in hair and eyes am I ; and dark 
 Was Gorlois, yea and dark was Uther too, 
 Wellnigh to blackness ; but this king is fair 
 Beyond the race of Britons and of men. 
 Moreover, always in my mind I hear 
 A cry from out the dawning of my life, 
 A mother weeping, and I hear her say, 
 *'0 that ye had some brother, pretty one, 
 To guard thee on the rough ways of the 
 
 world.'" 
 
 ' ' Ay, ' ' said the King, * ' and hear ye such a cry? 
 But when did Arthur chance upon thee first?" 
 
 "O King," she cried, **and I will tell thee 
 true: 
 He found me first when yet a little maid : 
 Beaten I had been for a little fault 
 Whereof I was not guilty; and out I ran 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 17 
 
 And flung myself down on a bank of heath, 
 And hated this fair world and all therein, 
 And wept, and wish'd that I were dead; and 
 
 he— 
 I know not w^hether of himself he came, 
 Or brought by Merlin, who, they say, can walk 
 Unseen at pleasure — he was at my side 
 And spake sweet words, and comforted my 
 
 heart. 
 And dried my tears, being a child with me. 
 And many a time he came, and evermore 
 As I grew greater, grew with me ; and sad 
 At times he seem'd, and sad with him was I, 
 Stern too at times, and then I loved him not, 
 But sweet again, and then I loved him well. 
 But now of late I see him less and less, 
 But those first days had golden hours for 
 
 me, 
 For then I surely thought he would be king. 
 
 *'But let me tell thee now another tale: 
 For Bleys, our Merlin's master, as they say. 
 Died but of late, and sent his cry to me, 
 To hear him speak before he left his life. 
 Shrunk like a fairy changling lay the mage ; 
 And when I enter'd told me that himself 
 And Merlin ever served about the King, 
 Uther, before he died ; and on the night 
 When Uther in Tintagil past away 
 Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two 
 Left the still King, and' passing forth to 
 
 breathe. 
 Then from the castle gateway by the chasm 
 Descending thro' the dismal night — a night 
 
18 IDYLLS OF THE KLNG. 
 
 In which the bounds of heaven and earth were 
 
 lost— 
 Behfeld, so high upon the dreary deeps 
 It seem'd in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof 
 A dragon wing'd, and all from stem to stern 
 Bright with a shining people on the decks, 
 And gone as soon as seen. And then the two 
 Dropt to the cove, and watch 'd the great sea 
 
 fall, 
 Wave after wave, each mightier than the last, 
 Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep 
 And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged 
 Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame ; 
 And down the wave and in the flame w^as borne 
 A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet. 
 Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried 
 
 'The King! 
 Here is an heir for Uther!' And the fringe 
 Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand, 
 Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the word, 
 And all at once all round him rose in fire, 
 So that the child and he were clothed in fire, 
 And presently thereafter follow^'d calm, 
 Free sky and stars: 'And this same child,' he 
 
 said, 
 'Is he who reigns; nor could I part in peace 
 Till this were told. ' And saying this the seer 
 Went through the strait and dreadful pass of 
 
 death, 
 Not ever to be question'd any more 
 Save on the further side ; but when I met 
 Merlin, and ask'd him if these things were 
 
 truth — 
 The shining dragon and the naked child 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 19 
 
 Descending in the glory of the seas — 
 
 He laugh'd as is his wont, and answer'd me 
 
 In riddling triplets of old time, and said: 
 
 " 'Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in the sky! 
 A young man will be wiser by and by; 
 An old man's wit may wander ere he die. 
 
 Rain, rain, and sun ! a rainbow on the lea ! 
 And truth is this to me, and that to thee ; 
 And truth or clothed or naked let it be. 
 
 Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom 
 
 blows: 
 Sun, rain, and sun I and where is he who 
 
 knows? 
 From the great deep to the great deep he 
 
 goes. ' 
 
 "So Merlin riddling anger'd me; but thou 
 Fear not to give this King thine only child, 
 Guinevere ; so great bards of him will sing 
 Hereafter; and dark sayings from of old 
 Ranging and ringing thro' the minds of men. 
 And echo'd by old folk beside their fires 
 For comfort after their wage-work is done, 
 Speak of the King; and Merlin in our time ^ 
 Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn 
 Tho' men may wound him that he will not die, 
 But pass, again to come ; and then or now 
 Utterly smite the heathen underfoot, 
 Till these and all men hail him for their king," 
 
 She spake and King Leodogran rejoiced, 
 But musing "Shall I answer yea or nay?" 
 Doubted, and drowsed, nodded and slept, and 
 saw. 
 
20 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew, 
 Field after field, up to a height, the peak 
 Haze hidden, and thereon a phantom king, 
 Now looming, and now lost ; and on the slope 
 The sword rose, the hind fell, the herd was 
 
 driven. 
 Fire glimpsed; and all the land from roof and 
 
 rick, 
 In driftS4)f smoke before a rolling wind. 
 Stream 'd* to the peak, and mingled with the 
 
 haze 
 And made it thicker; while the phantom king- 
 Sent out at times a voice ; and here or there 
 Stood one who pointed toward the voice, the 
 
 rest 
 Slew on and burnt, crying, "No king of ours, 
 No son of Uther, and no king of ours;" 
 Till with a wink his dream was changed, the 
 
 haze 
 Descended, and the solid earth became 
 As nothing, but the King stood out in heaven, 
 Crown'd. And Leodogran awoke, and sent 
 Ulfius, and Brastias and Bedivere, 
 Back to the court of Arthur answering yea. 
 
 Then Arthur charged his warrior whom he 
 
 loved 
 And honor'd most, vSir Lancelot, to ride forth 
 And bring the Queen; — and watch 'd him from 
 
 the gates: 
 And Lancelot past away among the flowers, 
 (For then was latter April) and return 'd 
 Among the flowers, in Ma)^, with Guinevere. 
 To whom arrived, by Dubric the high saint, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 21 
 
 Chief of the church in Britain, and before 
 The stateliest of her altar-shrines, the King 
 That morn was married, while in stainless 
 
 white, 
 The fair beginners of a nobler time. 
 And glorying in their vows and him, his 
 
 knights 
 Stood round him, and rejoicing in his joy. 
 Far shone the fields of May thro' open door, 
 The sacred altar blossom 'd white with May, 
 The Sun of May descended on their King, 
 They gazed on all earth's beauty in their 
 
 Queen, 
 RoU'd incense, and there past along the hymns 
 A voice as of the waters, while the two 
 Sware at the shrine of Christ a deathless love : 
 And Arthur said, "Behold, thy doom is mine. 
 Let chance what will, I love thee to the death !" 
 To whom the Queen replied with drooping 
 
 eyes, 
 "King and my lord, I love thee to the death!" 
 And holy Dubric spread his hands and spake, 
 "Reign ye, and live and love, and make the 
 
 world 
 Other, and may thy Queen be one with thee, 
 And all this Order of thy Table Round 
 Fulfil the boundless purpose of their King!" 
 
 So Dubric said ; but when they left the shrine 
 Great Lords from Rome before the portal 
 
 stood. 
 In scornful stillness gazing as they past ; 
 Then while they paced a city all on fire 
 With sun and cloth of gold, the trumpets blew, 
 
22 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And Arthur's knighthood sang before the 
 King:— 
 
 /"BlcMiy trumpet, for the world is white V^ith 
 >- May ; ^\ .. _.. ; .. ,^ 
 
 Blow truinpel;, theio^ig ni^t hath roll' d away! 
 Blow thro' the Tiviri'g world-]— 'Let Tlie\ Kmg 
 feign. ' 
 
 **Sljall Rome or Heathen rule in Artnur's 
 realmi. / - — , y ^^ ,. -— 
 
 Flash brand I and lance, \ fall battleaxe upon 
 helm, 
 
 Fall battleaxe, and flash brand ! Let the King 
 reign. 
 
 "Strike for the King and live! his knights 
 
 have heard 
 That God hath told the King a secret word. 
 Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King 
 
 reign. 
 
 reignX 
 
 '*Blow trumpet! he will lift us from the dust. 
 Blow trumpet! live the strength and die the 
 
 lust! 
 Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the 
 King reign. 
 
 ''Strike for the King and die! and if thou 
 
 diest, 
 The King is King, and ever wills the highest. 
 Oang battleaxe, and crash brand! Let the 
 
 King reign. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 23 
 
 "Blow, for our Sun is might}'' in his May! 
 Blow, for our Sun is mightier day by day ! 
 Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the 
 King reign. 
 
 "The King will follow Christ, and we the 
 
 King 
 In whom high God hath breathed a secret 
 
 thing. 
 Fall battleaxe, and flash brand ! Let the King 
 
 reign." 
 
 So sang the knighthood, moving to their hall. 
 There at the banquet those great Lords frorn 
 
 Rome, 
 The slowly-fading mistress of the world, 
 Strode in, and claim 'd their tribute as of yore. ^ 
 But Arthur spake, "Behold, for these have 
 
 sworn 
 To wage my wars, and worship me their King; 
 The old order changeth, yieldeth place to new ; 
 And we that fight for our fair father Christ, 
 Seeing that ye be grown too weak and old 
 To drive the heathen from your Roman wall, 
 No tribute will we pay:" so those great lords 
 Drew back in wrath, and Arthur strove with 
 
 Rome. 
 
 And Arthur and his knighthood for a space 
 Were all one will, and thro' that strength the 
 
 King 
 Drew in the petty princedoms under him, 
 Fought, and in twelve great battles overcame 
 The. heathen hordes, and made a realm and 
 
 reign'd. 
 
24 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 THE ROUND TABLE. 
 
 / •»• OARETH AND LYNETTE. /P^ THE HOLY GRAIL. 
 
 ^ GERAINT AND ENID.J PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 
 
 MERLIN AND VIVIEN. ATHE LAST TOURNAMENT. 
 
 LANCELOT AND ELAINE-^ GUINEVERE.y 
 
 GARETH AND LYNETTE. 
 
 The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent, 
 And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring, 
 Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine 
 Lost footing-, fell, and so was whirl'd away. 
 "How he went down," said Gareth, "as a false 
 
 knight 
 Or evil king before my lance if lance 
 Were mine to use — O senseless cataract, 
 Bearing all down in thy precipitancy — 
 And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows 
 And mine is living blood: thou dost His will, 
 The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that 
 
 know, 
 Have strength and wit, in my good mother's 
 
 hall 
 Linger with vacillating obedience, 
 Prison 'd, and kept and coax'd and whistled to — 
 Since the good mother holds me still a child! 
 Good mother is bad mother unto me! 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 25 
 
 A worse were better ; yet no worse would I ; 
 
 Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force 
 
 To weary her ears with one continuous prayer, 
 
 Until she let me fly discaged to sweep 
 
 In ever-highering eagle-circles up 
 
 To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop 
 
 Down upon all things base, and dash them 
 
 dead, 
 A knight of Arthur, working out his will, 
 To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he 
 
 came 
 With Modred hither in the summertime, 
 Ask'd me to tilt with him, the proven knight. 
 Modred for want of worthier was the judge. 
 Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said, 
 'Thou hast half prevail'd against me,' said so 
 
 — he— 
 Tho' Modred biting his thin lips was mute, 
 For he is always sullen: what care P" 
 
 And Gareth went, and hovering round her 
 chair 
 Ask'd, "Mother, tho' ye count me still the 
 
 child. 
 Sweet mother, do ye love the child?" She 
 
 laugh'd, 
 *'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it. " 
 "Then, mother, an ye love the child," he said, 
 "Being a goose and rather tame than wild, 
 Hear the child's story.' "Yea, my well-be- 
 loved. 
 An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs." 
 
26 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And Gareth answer'd her with kindling eyes, 
 *'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine 
 AVas finer gold than any goose can lay; 
 P'or this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid 
 Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm 
 As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours. 
 And there was ever haunting round the palm 
 A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw 
 The splendor sparkling from aloft, and thought 
 *An I could climb and lay my hand upon it, 
 Then were I wealthier than a leash of kings. ' 
 But ever when he reach 'd a hand to climb. 
 One, that had loved him from his childhood, 
 
 caught 
 And stay'dhim, 'Climb not lest thou break thy 
 
 neck, 
 I charge thee by my love, ' and so the boy, 
 Sweet mother, neither clomb, nor brake his 
 
 neck 
 But brake his very heart in pining for it, 
 And past away." 
 
 To whom the mother said, 
 *'True love, sweet son, had risk'd himself and 
 
 climb'd. 
 And handed down the golden treasure to him. " 
 
 And Gareth answer'd her with kindling eyes, 
 *'Gold? said I gold? — ay then, why he, or she, 
 Or whosoe'er it was, or half the world 
 Had ventured — had the thing I spake of been 
 Mere gold — but this was all of that true steel, 
 Whereof they forged the brand Excalibur, 
 And lightnings play'd about it in the storm, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 27 
 
 And all the little fowl were flurried at it, 
 And there were cries and clashings in the nest, 
 That sent him from his senses: let me go." 
 
 Then Bellicent bemoan'd herself and said, 
 *''Hast thou no pity upon my loneliness? 
 Lo, where thy father Lot beside the hearth^-_ 
 Lies like a log, and all but smoulder 'd o\it\/'^^ 
 For ever since when traitor to the King 
 He fought against him in the Barons' war. 
 And Arthur gave him back his territory, 
 His age hath slowly droopt, and now lies there 
 A yet-warm corpse, and yet unburiable, 
 No more ; nor sees, nor hears, nor speaks, nor 
 
 knows. 
 And both thy brethren are in Arthur's hall. 
 Albeit neither, loved with that full love 
 I feel for thee, nor worthy such a love : 
 Stay therefore thou ; red berries charm the bird, 
 And thee, mine innocent, the jousts, the wars, 
 Who never knewest finger-ache, nor pang 
 Of wrench'd or broken limb — an often chance 
 In those brain-stunning shocks, and tourney- 
 falls, 
 Frights to my heart; but stay: follow the deer 
 By these tall firs and our fast falling burns; 
 So make thy manhood mightier day by day ; 
 Sweet is the chase: and I will seek thee out 
 Some comfortable bride and fair, to grace 
 Thy climbing life, and cherish my prone year. 
 Till falling into Lot's forgetfulness 
 I knew not thee, myself, nor anything. 
 Stay, my best son! ye are yet more boy than 
 man." 
 
28 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then Gareth, "An ye hold me yet for child, 
 Hear yet once more the story of the child. 
 For, mother, there was once a King, like ours. 
 The prince his heir, when tall and marriage- 
 able, 
 Ask' d for a bride ; and thereupon the King 
 Set two before him. One was fair, strong, 
 
 arm'd — 
 But to be won by force — and many men 
 Desired her; one, good lack, no man desired. 
 And these were the conditions of the King: 
 That save he won the first by force, he needs 
 Must wed that other, whom no man desired, 
 A red-faced bride who knew herself so vile. 
 That evermore she long'd to hide herself, 
 Nor fronted man or woman, eye to eye — 
 Yea — some she cleaved to, but they died of her. 
 And one — they call'd her Fame; and one, — O 
 
 Mother, 
 How can ye keep me tether'd to you — Shame ! 
 Man am I grown, a man's work must I do. 
 Follow the deer? follow the Christ, the King, 
 Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the 
 
 King— 
 Else^ wherefore born?" 
 
 To whom the mother said, 
 *' Sweet son, for there be many who deem him 
 
 not. 
 Or will not deem him, wholly proven King — 
 Albeit in mine own heart I knew him King, 
 When I was frequent with him in my youth. 
 And heard him Kingly speak, and doubted him 
 No more than he, himself; but felt him mine. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 29 
 
 Of closest kin to me ; 3'et — wilt thou leave 
 Thine easeful biding here, and risk thine all, 
 Life, limbs, for one that is not proven King? 
 Stay, till the cloud that settles round his 
 
 birth 
 Hath lifted but a little. Staj-, sweet son. " 
 
 And Gareth answer'd quickly, "Not an hour, 
 So that ye yield me — I will walk thro' fire, 
 Mother, to gain it — your full leave to go. 
 Not proven, who swept the dust of ruin!d 
 
 Rome 
 From off the threshold of the realm, and crush 'd 
 The Idolaters, and made the people free? 
 Who should be King save him who makes us 
 
 free ? ' ' 
 
 So when the Queen, who long had sought in 
 
 vain 
 To break him from the intent to which he 
 
 grew, 
 Found her son's will unwaveringly one, 
 She answer'd craftily, *'Will 5'e walk thro* fire? 
 Who walks thro' fire will hardly heed the 
 
 smoke. 
 Ay, go then^ and ye must : only one proof, 
 Before thou ask the King to make thee 
 
 knight. 
 Of thine obedience and thy love to me. 
 Thy mother, — I demand," 
 
 And Gareth cried, 
 * * A hard one, or a hundred, so I go. 
 Nay — quick! the proof to prove me to the 
 
 quick!" 
 
30 IDYLLS OF THE KING 
 
 But slowly spake the mother looking at him, 
 "Prince, thou shalt go disguised to Arthur's 
 
 hall, 
 And hire thyself to serve for meats and drinks 
 Among the scullions and the kitchen-knaves, 
 And those that hand the dish across the bar. 
 Nor shalt thou tell thy name to any one. 
 And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth and a 
 
 day." 
 
 For so the Queen believed that when her son 
 Beheld his only way to glory lead 
 Low down thro' villain kitchen-vassalage, 
 Her own true Gareth was too princely-proud 
 To pass thereby ; so should he rest with her, 
 Closed in her castle from the sound of arms. 
 
 Silent awhile was Gareth, then replied, 
 "The thrall in person may be free in soul, 
 And I shall see the jousts. Thy son am I. 
 And since thou art my mother, must obey. 
 I therefore yield me freely to thy will ; 
 For hence will I, disguised, and hire myself 
 To serve with scullions and with kitchen- 
 knaves; 
 Nor tell my name to any — no, not the King.'* 
 
 Gareth awhile linger'd. The mother's eye 
 Full of the wistful fear that he would go. 
 And turning toward him wheresoe'er he turn'd, 
 Perplext his outward purpose, till an hour, 
 When awaken 'd by the wind which with full 
 
 voice 
 Swept bellowing thro' the darkness on to dawn, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 31 
 
 He rose, and out of slumber calling two 
 That still had tended on him from his birth, 
 Before the wakeful mother heard him, went. 
 
 The three were clad like tillers of the soiL 
 Southward they set their faces. The birds 
 
 made 
 Melody on branch, and rnelody in mid air. 
 The damp hill-slopes were quicken' d into green 
 And the live green had kindled into flowers, 
 For it was past the time of Easterday. 
 
 So, when their feet were planted on the plain 
 That broaden'd toward the base of Camelot, 
 Far off they saw the silver misty morn ^ \ 
 Rolling her smoke above the Royal mountt 
 That rose between the forest and the field. 
 At times the summit of the high city flash'd ; 
 At times the spires and turrets half-way down 
 Prick'd thro* the mist; at times the great gate 
 
 shone 
 Only, that open'd on the field below: 
 Anon, the whole fair city had disappear'd. 
 
 Then those who went with Gareth were 
 
 amazed, 
 One crying "Let us go no further, lord. 
 Here is a city of Enchanters, built 
 By fairy Kings." The second echo'd him, 
 ' ' Lord, we have heard from our wise men at 
 
 home 
 To Northward, that this King is not the King» 
 But only changeling out of Fairyland, 
 Who drave the heathen hence by sorcery 
 
32 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And Merlin's glamor. " Then the first again, 
 "Lord, there is no such city-anywhere, 
 But all a vision. ' ' 
 
 Gareth answer'd them 
 With laughter, swearing he had glamor enow 
 In his own blood, his princedom, youth and 
 
 hopes, 
 To plunge old Merlin in the Arabian sea ; 
 So push'd them all unwilling toward the gate, 
 And there was no gate like it under heaven 
 For barefoot on the keystone, which was lined 
 And rippled like an ever-fleeting wave, 
 The Lady of the Lake stood : all her dress 
 Wept from her sides as water flowing away ; 
 But like the cross her great and goodly arms 
 Stretch' d under all the cornice and upheld: 
 And drops of v;ater fell from either hand ; 
 And down from one a sword was hung, from 
 
 one 
 A censer, either worn with wind and storm ; 
 And o'er her breast floated the sacred fish ; 
 And in the space to left of her, and right, 
 Were Arthur's wars in weird devices done, 
 New things and old co-twisted, as if Time 
 Were nothing, so inveterately, that men 
 Were giddy gazing there ; and over all 
 High on the top were those three Queens, the 
 
 friends 
 Of Arthur, who should help him at his need. 
 
 Then those with Gareth for so long a space 
 Stared at the figures, that at last it seem'd 
 The dragon-boughts and elvish emblemings 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 33 
 
 Began to move, seethe, twine and curl : they 
 
 called 
 To Gareth, "Lord, the gateway is alive." 
 
 And Gareth likewise on them fixt his eyes 
 So long, that ev'n to him they seem'd to move. 
 Out of the city a blast of music peal'd. 
 Back from the gate started the three, to whom 
 From out thereunder came an ancient man, 
 Long-bearded, saying, 'Who be ye, my sons?" 
 
 Then Gareth, "We be tillers of the soil, 
 Who leaving share in furrow come to see 
 The glories of our King: but these, my men, 
 (Your city moved so weirdly in the mist) 
 Doubt if the King be King at all, or come 
 From Fairyland ; and whether this be built 
 By magic, and by fairy Kings and Queens ; 
 Or whether there be any city at all. 
 Or all a vision : and this music now 
 Hath scared them both, but tell thou these the 
 truth." 
 
 Then that old Seer made answer playing on 
 
 him. 
 And saying, "Son, I have seen the good ship 
 
 sail 
 Keel upward and mast downward in the 
 
 heavens. 
 And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air : 
 And here is truth ; but an it please thee not, 
 Take thou the truth as thou hast told it me. 
 For truly as thou sayst, a Fairy King 
 And Fairy Queens have built the city, son ; 
 They came from out a sacred mountain-cleft 
 
 3 Idylla 
 
34 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Toward the sunrise, each with harp in hand, 
 And built it to the music of their harps. 
 And as thou sayest, it is enchanted, son. 
 For there is nothing in it as it seems 
 Saving the King; tho' some there be that hold 
 The King a shadow, and the city real : 
 Yet take thou heed of him, for, so thou pass 
 Beneath this archway, then wilt thou become 
 ,A thrall to his enchantments, for the King 
 rWill bind thee by such vows, as is a shame 
 j^ man should not be bound by, yet the which 
 No man can keep; but, so thou dread to swear, 
 Pass not beneath this gateway, but abide 
 Without, among the cattle of the field. 
 For an ye heard a music, like enow 
 They are building still, seeing the city is built 
 To music, therefore never built at all, 
 And therefore built for ever. ' ' 
 
 Gareth spake 
 Anger' d, **01d Master, reverence thine own 
 
 beard 
 That looks as white as utter truth, and seems 
 Wellnigh as long as thou art statured tall ! 
 Why mockest thou the stranger that hath been 
 To thee fair-spoken?" 
 
 But the Seer replied, 
 *'Know ye not then the Riddling of the Bards? 
 'Confusion, and elusion, and relation, 
 Elusion, and occasion, and evasion'? 
 I mock thee not, but as thou mockest me. 
 And all that see thee, for thou art not who 
 Thou seemest, but I know thee who thou art. 
 And now thou goest up to mock the King, 
 Who cannot brook the shadow of any lie." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 35 
 
 Unmockingly the mocker ending here 
 Turn'd to the right, and past along the plain; 
 Whom Gareth looking after said, "My men, 
 Our one white lie sits like a little ghost 
 Here on the threshold of our enterprise. 
 Let love be blamed for it not she, nor I : 
 Well, we will make amends." 
 
 With all good cheer 
 He spake and laugh'd, then enter'd with his 
 
 twain, 
 Camelot, a city of shadowy palaces 
 And stately, rich in emblem and the work 
 Of ancient kings who did their days in stone, 
 Which Merlin's hand, the Mage at Arthur's 
 
 court. 
 Knowing all arts had touch'd, and everywhere 
 At Arthur's ordinance tiptwith lessening peak 
 And pinnacle, and had made it spire to heaven. 
 And ever and anon a knight w^ould pass 
 Outward or inward to the hall : his arms 
 Clash 'd; and the sound was good to Gareth 's 
 
 ear. 
 And out of bower and casement shyly glanced 
 Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars of love ; 
 And all about a healthful people stept 
 As in the presence of a gracious king. 
 
 Then into hall Gareth ascending heard 
 A voice, the voice of Arthur, and beheld 
 Far over heads in that long- vaulted hall 
 The splendor of the presence of the King 
 Throned, and delivering doom — and look'd no 
 more — 
 
36 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But felt his young heart hammering in his ears, 
 And thought, "For this half -shadow of a lie 
 The truthful King will doom me when I 
 
 speak. ' ' 
 Yet pressing on, tho' all in fear to find 
 Sir Gawain or Sir Modred, saw nor one 
 Nor other, but in all the listening eyes 
 Of those tall knights that ranged about the 
 
 throne. 
 Clear honor shining like the dewy star 
 Of dawn, and faith in their great King with 
 
 pure 
 Affection and the light of victory, 
 And glory gain'd, and evermore to gain. 
 
 Then came a widow crying to the King, 
 *'Aboon, Sir King! Thy father, Uther, reft 
 From my dead lord a field with violence; 
 For howsoe'er at first he proffer'd gold, 
 Yet, for the field was pleasant in our eyes, 
 We yielded not : and then he reft us of it 
 Perforce, and left us neither gold nor field." 
 
 Said Arthur, ''Whether would ye? gold or 
 field? 
 To whom the woman weeping, "Nay, my lord, 
 The field was pleasant to my husband's eye." 
 
 And Arthur, "Have thy pleasant field again, 
 And thrice the gold for Uther's use thereof, 
 According to the years. No boon is here, 
 But justice, so thy say be proven true. 
 Accursed, who from the wrongs his father did 
 Would shape himself aright!" 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 37 
 
 And while she past 
 Came yet another widow crying to him, 
 "A boon, Sir King! Thine enemy, King, am L 
 With thine own hand thou slewest my dear 
 
 lord, 
 A knight of Uther in the Barons' war, 
 When Lot and many another rose and fought 
 Against thee, saying thou wert basely born 
 I held with these, and loathe to ask thee aught. 
 Yet lo! my husband's brother had my son 
 Thraird in his castle, and hath starved him 
 
 dead; 
 And standeth seized of that inheritance 
 Which thou that slewest the sire hast left the 
 
 son. 
 So tho' I scarce can ask it thee for hate, 
 Grant me some knight to do the battle for me ; 
 Kill the foul thief, and wreak me for my son." 
 
 Then strode a good knight forward, crying 
 to him, 
 "A boon. Sir King! I am her kinsman, I; 
 Give me to right her wrong, and slay the man. '* 
 
 Then came Sir Kay, the seneschal, and cried, 
 *'A boon, Sir King! ev'n that thou grant her 
 
 none, 
 This railer, that hath mock'd thee in full hall — 
 None; or the wholesome boon of gyve and 
 
 gag." 
 
 But Arthur, ''We sit, King, to help the 
 wrong 'd 
 Thro' all our realm. The woman loves her 
 lord. 
 
38 IDYLLS OF THE KING, 
 
 Peace to thee, woman, with thy loves and 
 
 hates' 
 The kings of old had doom'd thee to the flames, 
 Aurelius Emrys would have scourged thee 
 
 dead, 
 And Uther slit thy tongue: but get thee 
 
 hence — 
 Lest that rough humor of the kings of old 
 Return upon me ! Thou that art her kin, 
 Go likewise ; lay him low and slay him not, 
 But bring him here that I may judge the right. 
 According to the justice of the King: 
 Then, be he guilty, by that deathless King 
 Who lived and died for men, the man shall 
 
 die." 
 
 Then came in hall the messenger of Mark, 
 A name of evil savour in the land, 
 The Cornish king. In either hand he bore 
 What dazzled all, and shone far-off as shines 
 (^ field of charlock in the sudden sun 
 between two showers, a cloth of palest gold. 
 Which down he laid before the throne, and 
 
 knelt. 
 Delivering, that his lord, the vassal king. 
 Was ev'n upon his way to Camelot; 
 For having heard that Arthur of his grace 
 Had made his goodly cousin, Tristram, knight, 
 And, for himself was of the greater state, 
 Being a king, he trusted his liege-lord 
 Would yield him this large honor all the more : 
 So pray'd him well to accept this cloth of gold, 
 In token of true heart and fealty. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. Sd 
 
 Then Arthur cried to rend the cloth, to rend 
 In pieces, and so cast it on the hearth. 
 An oak-tree smoulder 'd there. "The goodly 
 
 knight ! 
 What! shall the shield of Mark stand among 
 
 these?" 
 For, midway down the side of that long hall 
 A stately pile, — whereof along the front, 
 Some blazon'd, some but carven, and some 
 
 blank. 
 There ran a treble range of stony shields, — 
 Rose, and high-arching overbrow'd the hearth. 
 And under every shield a knight was named: 
 For this was Arthur s custom in his hall, 
 When some good knight had done one noble 
 
 deed, 
 His arms were carven only; but it twain 
 His arms jvvere blazon'd also; but if none 
 The shield was blank and bare without a sign 
 Saving the name beneath ; and Gareth saw 
 The shield of Gawain blazon'd rich and 
 
 bright, 
 And Modred^s blank as death; and Arthur 
 
 cried 
 To rend the cloth and cast it on the hearth. 
 
 ' ' More like are we to reave him of his crown 
 Than make him knight because men call him 
 
 king. 
 The kings we found, ye know we stay'd their 
 
 . hands 
 From war among themselves, but left thetn 
 
 kings; 
 Of whom were any bounteous, merciful, 
 
40 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Tnith-speaking, brave, good livers, them we 
 
 enroll' d 
 Among us, and they sit within our hall. 
 But Mark hath tarnish'd the great name ^of 
 
 king, 
 As Mark would sully the low state of churl: 
 And, seeing he hath sent us cloth of gold, 
 Return and meet, and hold him from our 
 
 eyes, 
 Lest we should lap him up in cloth of lead, 
 Silenced for ever — craven — a man of plots, 
 Craft, poisonous counsels, wayside ambush- 
 
 ings— 
 No fault of thine : let Kay the seneschal 
 Look to thy wants, and send thee satisfied — 
 Accursed, who strikes nor lets the hand be 
 
 seen!" 
 
 And many another suppliant crying came 
 With noise of ravage wrought by beast and 
 
 man, 
 And evermore a knight would ride away. 
 
 Last, Gareth leaning both hands heavily 
 Down on the shoulders of the twain, his 
 
 men, 
 Approach'd between them toward the King,- 
 
 and ask'd, 
 *'A boon, Sir King (his voice was all ashamed), 
 For see ye not how weak and hungerworn 
 I seem — leaning on these? grant me to serve 
 For meat and drink among thy kitchen -knaves 
 A twelvemonth and a day, nor seek my name. 
 Hereafter I will fight. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KL\G. 41 
 
 To him the King, 
 *'A goodly youth and worth a goodlier boon! 
 But so thou wilt no goodlier, then must Kay, 
 The master of the meats and drinks be thine." 
 
 He rose and past, then Kay, a man of mien 
 Wan-sallow as the plant that feels itself 
 Root-bitten by \Vhite lichen, 
 
 "Lo, ye now! 
 This fellow hath broken from some Abbey, 
 
 where, 
 God wot, he had. not beef and brewis enow, 
 However that might chance ! but as he work, 
 Like any pigeon wiU I cram his crop. 
 And sleeker shall he shine than any hog." 
 
 Then Lancelot standing near, "Sir Seneschal, 
 Sleuth-hound thou knowest, and gray, and all 
 
 the hounds, 
 A horse thou knowest, a man thou dost not 
 
 know ; 
 Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair and fine, 
 High nose, a nostril large and fine, and hands 
 Large, fair and $ne! — Some young lad's 
 
 mystery — 
 But, or from sheepcot or kin's hall, the boy 
 Is noble-natured. Treat him with all grace 
 Lest he should come to shame thy judging of 
 
 him. * ' 
 
 Then Kay, "Whatmurmurest thou of mystery? 
 Think ye this fellow will poison the King's 
 
 dish? 
 Nay, for he spake too fool-like : mystery 
 
 4 Idylls 
 
42 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Tut, an the lad were noble, he had ask'd 
 For horse and armor, fair and fine, forsooth ! 
 Sir Fine-face, Sir Fair-hands? but see thou to 
 
 it 
 That thine own fineness, Lancelot, some fine 
 
 day 
 Undo thee not — and leave my man to me. 
 
 So Gareth all for glory underwent 
 The sooty yoke of kitchen vassalage ; 
 Ate with young lads his portion by the door, 
 And couch 'd at night with grimy kitchen- 
 knaves. 
 And Lancelot ever spake him pleasantly. 
 But Kay the seneschal who loved him not 
 Would hustle and harry him, and labor him 
 Beyond his comrade of the hearth, and set 
 To turn the broach, draw water, or hew wood, 
 Or grosser tasks; and Gareth bow'd himself 
 With all obedience to the King, and wrought 
 All kinds of service with a noble ease 
 That graced the lowliest act in doing it. 
 And when the thralls had talk among them- 
 selves. 
 And one would praise the love that linkt the 
 King 
 \ And Lancelot — how the King had saved his 
 \ life 
 
 \In battle twice, and Lancelot once the King's — 
 ^or Lancelot was the first in Tournament, 
 But Arthur mightiest on the battle-field — 
 Gareth was glad. Or if some other told. 
 How once the wandering forester at dawn, 
 Far over the blue tarns and hazy seas. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 43 
 
 On Caer-Eryri's highest found the King, 
 A naked babe, of whom the Prophet spake, 
 "He passes to the Isle Avilion, 
 He passes and is heal'd and cannot die" — 
 Gareth was glad. But if their talk were foul, 
 Then would he whistle rapid as any lark, 
 Or carol some old roundelay, and so loud 
 That first they mock'd, but, after, reverenced 
 
 him. 
 Or Gareth telling some prodigious tale 
 Of knights, who sliced a red life-bubbling way 
 Thro' twenty-folds of twisted dragon, held 
 All in a gap-mouth 'd circle his good mates 
 Lying or sitting round him, idle hands, 
 Charm'd; till Sir ,Kay, the seneschal, would 
 
 come 
 Blustering upon them, like a sudden wind \ 
 Among dead leaves, and drive them all apart.J 
 Or when the thralls had sport among them- 
 selves. 
 So there were any trial of mastery, 
 He, by two yards in casting bar or stone 
 Was counted best; and if there chanced a 
 
 joust, 
 So that Sir Kay nodded him leave to go, 
 Would hAirry thither, and when he saw the 
 
 knights 
 Clash like the coming and retiring wave. 
 And the spear spring, and good horse reel, the 
 
 boy 
 Was half beyond himself for ecstasy. 
 
 So for a month he wrought among the thralls ; 
 But in the weeks that follow 'd, the good Queen, 
 
44 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Repentant of the word she made him swear, 
 And saddening in her childless castle, sent, 
 Between the in-crescent and de-crescent moon, 
 Arms for her son, and loosed him from his 
 vow. 
 
 This, Gareth hearing from a squire of Lot 
 With whom he used to play at tourney once, 
 When both were children, and in lonely haunts 
 Would scratch a ragged oval on the sand, 
 And each at either dash from either end — 
 Sham en ever made girl redder than Gareth 
 
 joy. 
 He laugh'd; he sprang. "Out of the smoke, at 
 
 once 
 I leap from Satan's foot to Peter's knee — 
 These news be mine, none other's — nay, the 
 
 King's — 
 Descend into the city:" whereon he sought 
 The King alone, and found, and told him all. 
 
 •*I have stagger 'd thy strong Gawain in a tilt 
 For pastime ; yea, he said it : joust can I. 
 Make me thy knight — in secret ! let my name 
 Be hidd'n, and give me the first quest, I spring 
 Like flame from ashes. * ' 
 
 Here the King's calm eye 
 Fell on, and check' d and made him flush, and 
 
 bow 
 Lowly, to kiss his hand, who answer'd him, 
 "Son, the good mother let me know thee here. 
 And sent her wish that I would yield thee 
 
 thine. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 45 
 
 Make thee my knight? my knights are sworn to 
 
 vows 
 Of titter hardihood, utter gentleness, 
 And, loving, utter faithfulness in love, 
 And uttermost obedience to the King." 
 
 Then Gareth, lightly springing from his 
 knees, 
 "My King, for hardihood I can promise thee. 
 For uttermost obedience make demand 
 Of whom ye gave me to, the Seneschal, 
 No mellow master of the meats and drinks! 
 And as for love, God wot, I love not yet, 
 But love I shall, God willing. ' ' 
 
 And the King — 
 "Make thee my knight in secret? yea, but he. 
 Our noblest brother, and our truest man, 
 And one with me in all, he needs must know/* 
 
 "Let Lancelot know, my King, let Lancelot 
 know, 
 Thy noblest and thy truest ! ' ' 
 
 And the King — 
 "But wherefore would ye men should wonder 
 
 at you? 
 Nay, rather for the sake of me, their King, 
 And the deed's sake my knighthood do the 
 
 deed. 
 Than to be noised of. ' ' 
 
 Merrily Gareth ask'd, 
 "Have I not earn'd my cake in baking of it? 
 
46 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 j 
 Let be my name until I make my name! 
 My deeds will speak; it is but for a day." 
 So with a kindly hand on Gareth's arm 
 Smiled the great King, and half-unwillingly 
 Loving his lusty 3^outhhood yielded to him, 
 Then, after summoning Lancelot privily, 
 "I have given him the first quest: he is not 
 
 proven, 
 Look therefore when he calls for this in hall. 
 Thou get to horse and follow him far away. 
 Cover the lions on thy shield, and see 
 Far as thou mayest, he be nor ta'en nor slain." 
 
 Then that same day there past into the hall 
 A damsel of high lineage, and a brow 
 May-blossom, and a cheek of apple-blossom, 
 Hawk-eyes; and lightly was her slender nose 
 Tip-tilted like the petal of a flower; 
 She into hall past with her page and cried, 
 
 *'0 King, for thou hast driven the foe without, 
 See to the foe within ! bridge, ford, beset 
 By bandits, every one that owns a tower 
 The Lord for half a league. Why sit ye there? 
 Rest would I not, Sir King, an I were king, 
 Till ev'n the lonest hold were all as free 
 From cursed bloodshed, as thine altar-cloth 
 From that best blood it is a sin to spill. ' ' 
 
 "Comfort thyself," said Arthur, "I nor mine 
 Rest : so my knighthood keep the vows they 
 
 swore, 
 The wastest moorland of our realm shall be 
 Safe, damsel, as the centre of this halL 
 What is thy name? thy need?" 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 47 
 
 "My name?" she said — 
 *'Lynette my name; noble; my need, a knight 
 To combat for my sister, Lyonors, 
 A lady of high lineage, of great lands. 
 And comely, yea, and comelier than myself. 
 She lives in Castle Perilous: a river 
 Runs in three loops about her living-place ; 
 And o'er it are three passings, and three 
 
 knights 
 Defend the passings, brethren, and a fourth 
 And of that four the mightiest, holds her stay'd 
 In her own castle, and so besieges her 
 To break her will, and make her wed with him : 
 And but delays his purport till thou send 
 To do the battle with him, thy chief man, 
 Sir Lancelot whom he trusts to overthrow. 
 Then wed, with glory : but she will not wed 
 Save whom she loveth, or a holy life. 
 Now therefore have I come for Lancelot. ' ' 
 
 Then Arthur mindful of Sir Gareth ask'd, 
 "Damsel, ye know this Order lives to crush 
 All wrongers of the Realm. But say, these 
 
 four, 
 Who be they? What the fashion of the men?" 
 
 "They be of foolish fashion, O Sir King, 
 The fashion of that old knight-errantry 
 Who ride abroad and do but what they will ; 
 Courteous or bestial from the moment, such 
 As have nor law nor king; and three of these 
 Proud in their fantasy call themselves the Day, 
 Morning Star, and Noon-Sun, and Evening- 
 Star, 
 
48 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Being strong fools ; and never a whit more wise 
 The fourth, who alway rideth arm'd in black, 
 A huge man-beast of boundless savagery. 
 He names himself the Night and oftener Death, 
 And wears a helmet mounted with a skull, 
 And bears a skeleton figured on his arms. 
 To show that who may slay or scape the three 
 Slain by himself shall enter endless night. 
 And all these four be fools, but mighty men. 
 And therefore am I come for Lancelot. ' ' 
 
 Hereat Sir Gareth call'd from where he rose, 
 A head with kindling eyes above the throng, 
 *'A boon. Sir King — this quest!" then — for he 
 
 mark'd 
 Kay near him groaning like a wounded bull — 
 *'Yea, King, thou knowest thy kitchen-knave 
 
 am I, 
 And mighty thro' thy meats and drinks am I, 
 And I can topple over a hundred such. 
 Thy promise. King," and Arthur glancing at 
 
 him. 
 Brought down a momentary brow. *' Rough, 
 
 sudden. 
 And pardonable, worthy to be knight — 
 Go therefore, ' ' and all hearers are amazed. 
 
 But on the damsel's forehand shame, pride, 
 
 wrath 
 Slew the May-white : she lifted either arm, 
 "Fie on thee. King! I ask'd for thy chief 
 
 knight, 
 And thou hast given me but a kitchen-knave. " 
 Then ere a man in hall could stay her, turn'd, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 49 
 
 Fled down the lane of access to the King, 
 
 Took horse, descended the slope street, and 
 past 
 
 The weird white gate, and paused without, be- 
 side 
 
 The field of tourney, murmuring "kitchen- 
 knave." 
 
 Now two great entries open'd from the hall. 
 At one end one, that gave upon a range 
 Of level pavement where the King would pace 
 At sunrise, gazing over plain and wood ; 
 And down from this a lordly stairway sloped 
 Till lost in blowing-trees and tops of towers ; 
 And out by this m^in doorway past the King. 
 But one was counter to the hearth, and rose 
 High that the highest-crested helm could ride 
 Therethro' nor graze : and by this entry fled 
 The damsel in her wrath, and on to this 
 Sir Gareth strode, and saw without the door 
 King Arthur's gift, the worth of half a town, 
 A warhorse of the best, and near it stood 
 The two that out of north had follow'd him : 
 This bare a maiden shield, a casque; that held 
 The horse, the spear, whereat Sir Gareth loosed 
 A cloak that dropt from collar-bone to heel, 
 A cloth of roughest web, and cast it down. 
 And from it like a fuel-smother'd fire. 
 That lookt half-dead, brake bright, and flash'd 
 
 as those 
 Dull-coated things, that making slide apart 
 Their dusk wing-cases, all beneath their burns 
 A jewell'd harness, ere they pass and fly. 
 So Gareth ere he parted flash'd in arms. 
 
 4 
 
50 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then as he donn'd the helm, and took the 
 
 shield 
 And mounted horse and graspt a spear, of grain 
 Storm-strengthen 'd on a windy site, and tipt 
 With trenchant steel, around him slowly prest 
 The people, while from out of kitchen came 
 The thralls in throng, and seeing who had 
 
 work'd 
 Lustier than any, and whom they could but 
 
 love, 
 Mounted in arms, threw up their caps and 
 
 cried, 
 *'God bless the King, and all his fellowship!" 
 And on thro' lanes of shouting Gareth rode 
 Down the slope street, and past without the 
 
 gate. 
 
 So Gareth past with joy ; but as the cur 
 Pluckt from the cur he fights with, ere his cause 
 Be cool'd by fighting, follows, being named. 
 His owner, but remembers all, and growls 
 Remembering, so Sir Kay beside the door 
 Mutter 'd in scorn of Gareth whom he used 
 To harry and hustle. 
 
 "Bound upon a quest 
 With horse and arms — the King hath past his 
 
 time — 
 My scullion knave ! Thralls to your work again. 
 For an your fire be low ye kindle mine ! 
 Will there be dawn in West and eve in East? 
 Begone ! — my knave ! — belike and like enow 
 Some old head-blow not heeded in his youth 
 So shook his wits they wander in his prime — 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 51 
 
 Crazed ! How the villain lifted up his voice, 
 Nor shamed to bawl himself a kitchen-knave, 
 Tut : he was tanae and meek enow with me, 
 Till peacock'd up with Lancelot's noticing-. 
 Well — I will after my loud knave, and learn 
 Whether he know me for his master yet. 
 Out of the smoke he came, and so my lance 
 Hold, by God's grace, he shall into the mire — 
 Thence, if the King awaken from his craze, 
 Into the smoke again." 
 
 But Lancelot said, 
 ''Kay, wherefore wilt thou go against the 
 
 King, 
 For that did never he whereon ye rail, 
 But ever meekly served the King in thee? 
 Abide : take counsel : for this lad is great 
 And lusty, and knowing both of lance and 
 
 sword. ' ' 
 *'Tut, tell not me," said Kay, *'ye are overfine 
 To mar stout knaves with foolish courtesies:" 
 Then mounted, on thro' silent faces rode 
 Down the slope city, and out beyond the gate. 
 
 But by the field of tourney lingering yet 
 Mutter'd the damsel, ' ' Wherefore did the King 
 Scorn me? for, were Sir Lancelot lackt, at least 
 He might have yielded to me one of those 
 Who tilt for lady's love and glory here, 
 Rather than — O sweet heaven! O fie upon 
 
 him — 
 His kitchen-knave." 
 
52 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 To whom Sir Gareth drew 
 (And there were none but few goodlier than he) 
 Shining in arms, "Damsel, the quest is mine. 
 Lead, and I follow." She thereat, as one 
 That smells a foul-flesh' d agaric in the holt. 
 And deems it carrion of some woodland thing, 
 Or shrew, or weasel, nipt her slender nose 
 With petulant thumb and finger, shrilling^ 
 
 "Hence! 
 Avoid, thou smellest all of kitchen-grease. 
 And look -who comes behind," for there was 
 
 Kay, 
 "Knowest thou not me? thy master? I am Kay. 
 We lack thee by the hearth. " 
 
 And Gareth to him, 
 *' Master no more! too well I know thee, ay — 
 The most ungentle knight in Arthur's hall." 
 "Have at thee then," said Kay; they shock 'd, 
 
 and Kay 
 Fell shoulder-slipt, and Gareth cried again, 
 "Lead, and I follow," and fast away she fled. 
 
 But after sod and shingle ceased to fly 
 Behind her, and the heart of her good horse 
 Was nigh to burst with violence of the beat, 
 Perforce she stay'd, and overtaken spoke. 
 
 "What dost thou, scullion, in my fellowships 
 Deem' St thou that I accept thee aught the more 
 Or love thee better, that by some device 
 Full cowardly, or by mere unhappiness. 
 Thou hast overthrown and slain thy master— 
 thou !— 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 53 
 
 Dish-washer and broach-turner, loon! — tome 
 Thou smellest all of kitchen as before!" 
 
 ''Damsel," Sir Gareth answer 'd gently, "say 
 Whate'er ye will, but whatsoe'er ye say, 
 I leave not till I finish this fair quest, 
 O die therefor," 
 
 "Ay, wilt thou finish it? 
 Sweet lord, how like a noble knight he talks! 
 The listening rogue hath caught the manner of 
 
 it. 
 But, knave, anon thou shalt be met with, knave, 
 And then by such a one that thou for all 
 The kitchen brewis that was ever supt 
 Shalt not once dare to look him in the face." 
 
 "I shall assay," said Gareth with a smile 
 That madden'd her, and away she flash 'd again 
 Down the long avenues of a boundless wood, 
 And Gareth following was again beknaved. 
 
 "Sir Kitchen- knave, I have miss'd the only 
 
 way 
 Where Arthur's men are set along the wood; 
 The wood is nigh as full of thieves as leaves; 
 If both be slain, I am rid of thee ; but yet 
 Sir Scullion, canst thou use that spit of thine? 
 Fight, an thou canst: I have miss'd the only 
 
 way." 
 
 So till the dusk that follow'd evensong 
 Rode on the two, reviler and reviled ; 
 Then after one long slope was mounted, saw, 
 
54 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Bowl-shaped, thro' tops of many thousand 
 
 pines 
 A gloomy, gladed hollow slowly sink 
 To westward — in the deeps whereof a mere, 
 Round as the red eye of an Eagle-owl, 
 Under the half -dead sunset glared; and shouts 
 Ascended, and there brake a servingman 
 Flying from out of the black wood, and crying, 
 '*They have bound my lord to cast him in 
 
 the mere. ' ' 
 Then Gareth, "Bound am I to right the 
 
 wrong' d, 
 But straitlier bound am I to bide with thee."" 
 And when the damsel spake contemptuously, 
 "Lead, and I follow," Gareth cried again, 
 "Follow, I lead!" so down among the pines 
 He plunged; and there, blackshadow'd nigh 
 
 the mere. 
 And mid-thigh deep in bulrushes and reed, 
 Saw six tall men haling a seventh along, 
 A stone about his neck to drown him in it. 
 Three with good blows he quieted, but three 
 Fled thro' the pines; and Gareth loosed the 
 
 stone 
 From off his neck, then in the mere beside 
 Tumbled it ; oilily bubbled up the mere. 
 Last, Gareth loosed his bonds, and on free feet 
 Set him, a stalwart baron, Arthur's friend. 
 
 "Well, that ye came, or else these caitiff 
 rogues 
 Had wreak'd themselves on me; good cause is 
 
 theirs 
 To hate me, for my wont hath ever been 
 
 m 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 55 
 
 To catch my thief, and then like vermin here 
 Drown him, and with a stone about his neck : 
 And under this wan water many of them 
 Lie rotting, but at night let go the stone, 
 And rise, and flickering in a grimly light 
 Dance on the mere, Good now, ye have saved 
 
 a life 
 Worth somewhat as the cleanser of this wood. 
 And fain would I reward thee worshipfully. 
 What guerdon will ye?" 
 
 Gareth sharply spake, 
 "None! for the deed's sake have I done the 
 
 deed. 
 In uttermost obedience to the King. 
 But wilt thou yield this damsel harbourage?" 
 
 Whereat the Baron saying, * * I well believie 
 You be of Arthur's Table," a light laugh 
 Broke from Lynette, "Ay, truly of a truth. 
 And in a sort, being Arthur's kitchen-knave! — 
 But deem not I accept thee aught the more. 
 Scullion, for running sharply with thy spit 
 Down on a rout of craven foresters. 
 A thresher with his flail had scattered them. 
 Nay — for thou smellest of the kitchen still. 
 But an this lord will yield us harbourage, 
 Well." 
 
 So she spake. A league beyond the wood. 
 All in a full fair manor and a rich, 
 His towers where that day a feast had been 
 Held in high hall, and many a viand left, 
 And many a costly cate, received the three. 
 
56 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And there they placed a peacock in his pride 
 Before the damsel, and the Baron set 
 Gareth beside her, but at once she rose. 
 
 "Meseems, that here is much discourtesy, 
 Setting this knave, Lord Baron, at my side, 
 Hear me — this morn I stood in Arthur's hall, 
 And pray'd the King- would grant me Lancelot 
 To fight the brotherhood of Day and Night — 
 The last a monster unsubduable 
 Of any save of him for whom I call'd — 
 Suddenly bawls this frontless kitchen -knave, 
 *The quest is mine; thy kitchen-knave am I, 
 And mighty thro' thy meats and drinks am I. ' 
 Then Arthur all at once gone mad replies, 
 *Go therefore,' and so gives the quest to him — 
 Him — here — a villain fitter to stick swine 
 Than ride abroad redressing women's wrong, 
 Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman. ' ' 
 
 Then half-ashamed and part-amazed, the lord 
 Now look'd at one and now at other; left 
 The damsel by the peacock in his pride, 
 And, seating Gareth at another board. 
 Sat down beside him, ate and then began. 
 
 "Friend, whether thou be kitchen-knave, or 
 not, 
 Or whether it be the maiden's fantasy. 
 And whether she be mad, or else the King, 
 Or both or neither, or thyself be mad, 
 I ask not: but thou strikest a strong stroke. 
 For strong thou art and goodly therewithal, 
 And saver of my life ; and therefore now^ 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 57 
 
 For here be mighty men to joust with, weigh 
 Whether thou wilt not with thy damsel back 
 To crave again Sir Lancelot of the King. 
 Thy pardon ; I but speak for thine avail, 
 The saver of my life." 
 
 "* And Gareth said, 
 "Full pardon, but I follow up the quest, 
 Despite of Day and Night and Death and 
 Hell." 
 
 So when, next morn, the lord whose life he 
 
 saved 
 Had, some brief space, convey'd them on their 
 
 way 
 And left them with God-speed, Sir Gareth 
 
 spake, 
 *'Lead, and I follow." Haughtily she replied^ 
 
 *' I fly no more; I allow thee for an hour. 
 Lion and stoat have isled together, knave. 
 In time of flood. Nay, furthermore, methinks 
 Some ruth is mine for thee. Back, wilt thou, 
 
 fool? 
 For hard by here is one will overthrow 
 And slay thee; then will I to court again, 
 And shame the King for only yielding me 
 My champion from the ashes of his hearth." 
 
 To whom Sir Gareth answer 'd courteously, 
 *'Say thou thy say, and I will do my deed. 
 Allow me for mine hour, and thou wilt find 
 My fortunes all as fair as hers who lay 
 Among the ashes and wedded the King's son." 
 
58 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then to the shore of one of those long loops 
 Wherethro' the serpent river coil'd, they came. 
 Bough-thicketed were the banks and steep; the 
 
 stream 
 Full, narrow ; this a bridge of single arc 
 Took at a leap ; and on the further side 
 Arose a silk pavilion, gay with gold 
 In streaks and rays, and all Lent-lily in hue, 
 Save that the dome was purple, and above, 
 Crimson, a slender banneret fluttering. 
 And therebefore the lawless warrior paced 
 Unarm 'd and calling. "Damsel, is this he, 
 The champion thou hast brought from Ar- 
 thur's hall? 
 For whom we let thee pass. " "Nay, nay," 
 
 she said, 
 *'Sir Morning Star. The King in utter scorn 
 Of thee and thy much folly hath sent thee here 
 His kitchen-knave, and look thou to thyself; 
 See that he fall not on thee suddenly, 
 And slay thee unarm'd; he is not knight, but 
 knave." 
 
 Then at his call, "O daughters of the Dawn, 
 And servants of the Morning- Star, approach, 
 Arm m.e," from out the silken curtain-folds 
 Bare-footed and bare-headed three fair girls 
 In gilt and rosy raiment came : their feet 
 In dewy grasses glisten'd; and the hair 
 All over glanced with dewdrop or with gem 
 Like sparkles in the stone Avanturine. 
 These arm'd him in blue arms, and gave a 
 
 shield 
 Blue also, and thereon the mornincr star. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 59 
 
 And Gareth silent gazed upon the knight, 
 Who stood a moment, ere his horse was brought, 
 Glorying; and in the stream beneath him, 
 
 shone, 
 Immingled with Heaven's azure waveringly, 
 The gay pavilion and the naked feet. 
 His arms, the rosy raiment, and the star. 
 
 Then she that watch 'd him, "Wherefore stare 
 
 ye so? 
 Thou shakest in thy fear: there yet is time: 
 Flee down the valley before he get to horse. 
 Who will cry shame? Thou art not knight, 
 
 but knave." 
 
 Said Gareth, "Damsel, whether knave or 
 
 knight, 
 Far liefer had I fight a score of times 
 Than hear thee so missay me and revile. 
 Fair words were best for him who fights for 
 
 thee: 
 But truly foul are better, for they send 
 That strength of anger thro' mine arms, I 
 
 know 
 That I shall overthrow him. ' ' 
 
 And he that bore 
 The star, being mounted, cried from o'er the 
 
 bridge, 
 "A kitchen-knave, and sent in scorn of me! 
 Such fight not I, but answer scorn with scorn. 
 For this were shame to do him further wrong 
 Than set him on his feet, and take his horse 
 And arms, and so return him to the King. 
 Come, therefore, leave thy lady lightly, knave. 
 
60 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Avoid : for it beseemeth not a knave 
 To ride with such a lady. ' ' 
 
 *'Dog, thou liest. 
 I spring from loftier lineage than thine own." 
 He spake; and all at fiery speed the two 
 Shock'd on the central bridge, and either spear 
 Bent but not brake, and either knight at once, 
 Hurl'd as a stone from out of a catapult 
 Beyond his horse's crupper and the bridge, 
 Fell, as if dead ; but quickly rose and drew, 
 And Gareth lash'd so fiercely with his brand 
 He drave his enemy backward down the 
 
 bridge, 
 The damsel crying, "Well-stricken, kitchen- 
 knave ! * ' 
 Till Gareth 's shield was cloven ; but one stroke 
 Laid him that clove it groveling on the 
 ground. 
 
 Then cried the fall'n, *'Take not my life; I 
 
 yield. " 
 And Gareth, "So this damsel ask it of me 
 Good — I accord it easily as a grace." 
 She reddening, "Insolent scullion: I of thee? 
 I bound to thee for any favor ask'd!" 
 "Then shall he die." And Gareth there 
 
 unlaced 
 His helmet as to slay him, but she shriek 'd, 
 "Be not so hardy, scullion, as to slay 
 One nobler than thyself." "Damsel, thy 
 
 charge 
 Is an abounding pleasure to me. Knight, 
 Thy life is thine at her command. Arise 
 And quickly pass to Arthur's hall, and say 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 61 
 
 His kitchen-knave hath sent thee. See thou 
 
 crave 
 His pardon for thy breaking of his laws. 
 Myself, when I return, will plead for thee. 
 Thy shield is mine — farewell; and, damsel, 
 
 thou. 
 Lead, and I follow." 
 
 And fast away she fled. 
 Then when he came upon her, spake, 
 
 "Methought, 
 Knave, when I watch 'd thee striking on the 
 
 bridge 
 The savour of thy kitchen came upon me 
 A little faintlier: but the wind hath changed: 
 I scent it twenty- fold. " And then she sang, 
 *' 'O morning star' (not that tall felon there 
 Whom thou by sorcery or unhappiness 
 Or some device, hast foully overthrown), 
 *0 morning star that smilest in the blue, 
 O star, my morning dream hath proven true, 
 Smile sweetly, thou ! my love hath smiled on 
 
 me.' 
 *'But thou begone, take counsel, and away, 
 For hard by here is one that guards a ford — 
 The second brother in their fool's parable — 
 Will pay thee all thy wages, and to boot. 
 Care not for shame : thou art not knight but 
 
 knave. ' ' 
 To whom Sir Gareth answer'd, laughingly, 
 *' Parables? Hear a parable of the knave. 
 When I was kitchen-knave among the rest 
 Fierce was the hearth, and one of my co-mates 
 Own'd a rough dog, to whom he cast his coat, 
 
62 IDYLLS OF THE KL\G. 
 
 * Guard it,' and there was none to meddle with 
 
 it. 
 And such a coat art thou, and thee the King 
 Gave me to guard, and such a dog am I, 
 To worry, and not to flee — and — knight or 
 
 knave — 
 The knave that doth thee service as full knight 
 Is all as good, meseems, as any knight 
 Toward thy sister's freeing." 
 
 "Ay, Sir Knave! 
 Ay, knave, because thou strikest as a knight, 
 Being but knave, I hate thee all the more." 
 
 "Fair damsel, you should worship me the 
 
 more. 
 That, being but knave, I throw thine enemies." 
 "Ay, ay," she said, "but thou shalt meet thy 
 
 match." 
 
 So when they touch 'd the second river-loop, 
 Huge on a huge red horse, and all in mail 
 Burnish 'd to blinding, shone the Noonday Sun 
 Beyond a raging shallow. As if the flower, 
 That blows a globe of after arrowlets. 
 Ten thousand-fold had grown, flash 'd the flerce 
 
 shield. 
 All sun; and Gareth's eyes had flying blots 
 Before them when he turn'd from watching 
 
 him. 
 He from beyond the roaring shallow roar'd, 
 "What doest thou, brother, in my marches 
 
 here?" 
 And she athwart the shallow shrill'd again, 
 "Here is a kitchen-knave from Arthur's hall 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 63 
 
 Hath overthrown thy brother, and hath his 
 
 arms." 
 *'Ugh!" cried the Sun, and vizoring up a red 
 And cipher face of rounded foolishness, 
 Push'd horse across the foamings of the ford^ 
 Whom Gareth met midstream: no room was 
 
 there 
 For lance or tourney-skill : four strokes they 
 
 struck 
 With sword, and these were mighty; the new- 
 knight 
 Had fear he might he shamed; but as the Sun. 
 Heaved up a ponderous arm to strike the fifth. 
 The hoof of his horse slipt in the stream, the 
 
 stream 
 Descended, and the Sun was wash'd away. 
 
 Then Gareth laid his lance athwart the ford; 
 So drew him home; but he that fought no 
 
 more, 
 As being all bone-batter'd on the rock. 
 Yielded; and Gareth sent him to the King. 
 *' Myself when I return will plead for thee." • 
 *'Lead, and I follow." Quietly she led. 
 
 *'Hath not the good wind, damsel, changed 
 
 again?" 
 *'Nay, not a point; nor art thou victor here. 
 There lies a ridge of slate across the ford ; 
 His horse thereon stumbled — ay, for I saw it. 
 
 ** *0 Sun' (not this strong fool whom thou. 
 Sir Knave, 
 Hast overthrown thro' mere unhappiness), 
 
64 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 *0 Sun, that wakenest all to bliss or pain, 
 O moon, that layest all to sleep again, 
 Shine sweetly : twice my love hath smiled on 
 me.* 
 
 *'What knowest thou of love-song or of love? 
 Nay, nay, God wot, so thou wert nobly born. 
 Thou hast a pleasant presence. Yea, per- 
 chance, — 
 
 " 'O dewy flowers that open to the sun, 
 O dewy flowers that close when day is done. 
 Blow sweetly: twice my love hath smiled on 
 me.' 
 
 "What knowest thou of flowers, except, be- 
 like, 
 To garnish meats with? hath not our good 
 
 King 
 Who lent me thee, the flower of kitchendom, 
 A foolish love for flowers? what stick ye round 
 The pastry? wherewithal deck the boar's head? 
 Plowers? nay, the boar hath rosemaries and 
 bay. 
 
 *' *0 birds that warble to the morning sky, 
 O birds that warble as the day goes by, 
 Sing sweetly : twice my love hath smiled on 
 me.* 
 
 *'What knowest thou of birds, lark, mavis, 
 merle. 
 Linnet? what dream ye when they utter forth 
 May-music growing with the growing light, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 65 
 
 Their sweet sun-worship? these be for the 
 
 snare 
 (So runs thy fancy), these be for the spit. 
 Larding and basting. See thou have not now 
 Larded thy last, except thou turn and fly, 
 There stands the third fool of their allegory. " 
 
 For there beyond a bridge of treble bow, 
 All in a rose-red from the west, and all 
 Naked it seem'd, and glowing in the broad 
 Deep-dimpled current underneath, the knight, 
 That named himself the Star of Evening stood. 
 
 And Gareth, "Wherefore waits the madman 
 there 
 Naked in open dayshine?" "Nay," she cried, 
 *'Not naked, only wrapt in harden' d skins 
 That fit him like his own ; and so ye cleave 
 His armor off him, these will turn the blade." 
 
 Then the third brother shouted o'er the 
 
 bridge, 
 "O brother- star, why shine ye here so low? 
 Thy ward is higher up: but have ye slain 
 The damsel's champion?" and the damsel 
 
 cried, 
 
 "No star of thine, but shot from Arthur's 
 heaven 
 With all disaster unto thine and thee ! 
 For both thy younger brethren have gone 
 
 down 
 Before this youth; and so wilt thou, Sir Star; 
 Art thou not old?" 
 
 5 Idylla 
 
66 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 ''Old, damsel, old and hard, 
 
 Old, with the might and breath of twenty 
 boys. ' ' 
 
 Said Gareth, "Old, and over- bold in brag! 
 
 But that same strength which threw the Morn- 
 ing Star 
 
 Can throw the Evening." 
 
 Then that other blew 
 A hard and deadly note upon the horn. 
 'Approach and arm me'" With slow steps 
 
 from out 
 An old storm-beaten, russet, many stain'd 
 Pavilion, forth a grizzed damsel came, 
 And arm'd him in old arms, and brought a 
 
 helm 
 With but a drying evergreen for crest. 
 And gave a shield whereon the Star of Even 
 Half-tarnish 'd and half-bright, his emblem, 
 
 shone. 
 But when it glitter' d o'er the saddle-bow, 
 They madly hurl'd together on the bridge; 
 And Gareth overthrew him, lighted, drew, 
 There met him drawn, and overthrew him 
 
 again. 
 But up like fire he started : and as oft 
 As Gareth brought him grovelling on his 
 
 knees, 
 So many a time he vaulted up again ; 
 Till Gareth panting hard, and his great heart, 
 Foredooming all his trouble was in vain, 
 LaborM within him, for he seem'd as one 
 That all in later, sadder age begins 
 To Vv^ar against ill uses of a life, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 67 
 
 But these from all his life arise, and cry, 
 "Thou hast made us lords, and canst not put 
 
 us down ! ' ' 
 He half despairs; so Gareth seem'd to strike 
 Vainly, the damsel clamoring all the while, 
 "Well done, knave-knight, well striken, O 
 
 good knight-knave — 
 O knave, as noble as any of all the knights — 
 Shame me not, shame me not. I have 
 
 prophesied — 
 Strike, thou art worthy of the Table Round — 
 His arms are old, he trusts the harden'd 
 
 skin — 
 Strike — strike — the wind will never change 
 
 again." 
 And Gareth hearing ever stronglier smote, 
 And hew'd great pieces of his armor off him. 
 But lash'd in vain against the harden'd skin. 
 And could not wholly bring him under, more 
 Than loud Southwesterns, rolling ridge on 
 
 ridge, 
 The buoy that rides at sea, and dips and 
 
 springs 
 For ever; till at length Sir Gareth 's brand 
 Clash 'd his, and brake it utterly to the hilt. 
 "I have thee now;" but • forth that other 
 
 sprang, 
 And, all unknightlike, writhed his wiry arms 
 Around him, till he felt, despite his mail. 
 Strangled, but straining ev'n his uttermost 
 Cast, and so hurl'd him headlong o'er the 
 
 bridge 
 Down to the river, sink or swim, and cried, 
 "Lead, and I follow." 
 
68 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But the damsel said, 
 * ' I lead no longer ; ride thou at my side ; 
 Thou art the kingliest of all kitchen-knaves. 
 
 " *0 trefoil, sparkling on the rainy plain, 
 O rainbow with three colors after rain, 
 Shine sweetly : thrice my love hath smiled on 
 me.' 
 
 **Sir, — and, good faith, I fain had added — 
 
 Knight, 
 But that I heard thee call thyself a knave, — 
 Shamed am I that I so rebuked, reviled, 
 Missaid thee; noble I am; and thought the 
 
 King 
 Scorn'd me and mine; and now thy pardon, 
 
 friend. 
 For thou hast ever answer' d courteously, 
 And wholly bold thou art, and meek withal 
 As any of Arthur's best, but, being knave. 
 Hast mazed my wit: I marvel what thou art." 
 
 "Damsel," he said, "you be not all to blame. 
 Saving that you mistrusted our good king 
 Would handle scorn, or yield you, asking, one 
 Not fit to cope your quest. You said your say ; 
 Mine answer was my deed. Good sooth ! I hold 
 He scarce is knight, yea but half -man, nor meet 
 To fight for gentle damsel, he, who lets 
 His heart be stirr'd with any foolish heat 
 At any gentle damsel's waywardness. 
 Shamed? care not! thy foul sayings fought for 
 
 me: 
 And seeing now thy words are fair, methinks 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 69 
 
 There rides no knight, no Lancelot, his great 
 
 self, 
 Hath force to quell me. " 
 
 Nigh upon that hour 
 When the lone hern forgets his melancholy, 
 Lets down his other leg, and stretching, 
 
 dreams 
 Of goodly supper in the distant pool, 
 Then turn'd the noble damsel smiling at him, 
 And told him of a cavern hard at hand, 
 Where bread and baken meats and good red 
 
 wine 
 Of Southland, which the Lady Lyonors 
 Had sent her coming champion, waited him. 
 
 Anon they past a narrow comb wherein 
 Were slabs of rock with figures, knights on 
 
 horse 
 Sculptured, and deckt in slowly-waning hues. 
 '*Sir Knave, my knight, a hermit once was 
 
 here, 
 Whose holy hand hath fashion 'd on the rock 
 The war of Time against the soul of man, 
 And yon four fools have suck'd their alle- 
 gory 
 From these damp walls, and taken but the 
 
 form. 
 Know ye not these?" and Gareth lookt and 
 
 read — 
 In letters like to those the vexillary 
 Hath left crag-cavern o'er the streaming Gelt — 
 ' ' Phosphorus, " then ' ' Meredies , — "Hes- 
 perus" — 
 
70 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 *'Nox'' — "Mors," beneath five figures, armed 
 
 men. 
 Slab after slab, their faces forward all, 
 And running down the Soul, a Shape that fled 
 With broken wings, torn raiment and loose 
 
 hair, 
 For help and shelter to the hermit's cave. 
 *' Follow the faces, and we find it. Look, 
 Who comes behind?" 
 
 For one — delay 'd at first 
 Thro' helping back the dislocated Kay 
 To Camelot, then by what thereafter chanced, 
 The damsel's headlong error thro' the wood — 
 Sir Lancelot, having swum the river-loops — 
 His blue shield-lions cover'd — softly drew 
 Behind the twain, and when he saw the star 
 Gleam, on Sir Gareth's turning to him, cried, 
 *'Stay, felon knight, I avenge me for my 
 
 friend. ' ' 
 And Gareth crying prick'd against the cry; 
 But when they closed — in a moment — at one 
 
 touch 
 Of that skill'd spear, the wonder of the world — 
 Went sliding down so easily, and fell, 
 That when he found the grass within his hands 
 He laugh'd; the laughter jarr'd upon Lynette: 
 Harshly she ask'd him, "Shamed and over- 
 thrown. 
 And tumbled back into the kitchen-knave. 
 Why laugh ye? that ye blew your boast in vain?" 
 "Nay, noble damsel, but that I, the son 
 Of old King Lot and good Queen Bellicent, 
 And victor of the bridges and the ford, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 71 
 
 And knight of Arthur, here lie thrown by 
 
 whom 
 I know not, all thro' mere unhappiness — 
 Device and sorcery and unhappiness — 
 Out, sword; we are thrown I" And Lancelot 
 
 answer 'd, "Prince, 
 O Gareth — thro* the mere unhappiness 
 Of one who came to help thee, not to harm, 
 Lancelot, and all as glad to find thee whole, 
 As on the day when Arthur knighted him." 
 
 Then Gareth, "Thou — Lancelot! — thine the 
 
 hand 
 That threw me? An some chance to mar the 
 
 boast 
 Thy brethren of thee make — which could not 
 
 chance — 
 Had sent thee down before a lesser spear, 
 Shamed had I been, and sad — O Lancelot — • 
 
 thou!" 
 
 Whereat the maiden, petulant, "Lancelot, 
 Why came ye not, when call'd? and where- 
 fore now 
 Come ye, not call'd? I gloried in m}^ knave, 
 Who being still rebuked, would answer still 
 Courteous as any knight — but now, if knight, 
 The marvel dies, and leaves me fool'd and 
 
 trick'd 
 And only wondering wherefore play'dupon: 
 And doubtful whether I and mine be scorn'd. 
 Where should be truth if not in Arthur's hall, 
 In Arthur's presence? Knight, knave, prince 
 
 and fool, 
 I hate thee and for ever. " 
 
72 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And Lancelot said, 
 ** Blessed be thou, Sir Gareth! knight art thou 
 To the King's best wish. O damsel, be you 
 
 wise 
 To call him shamed, who is but overthrown? 
 Thrown have I been, nor once, but many a 
 
 time. 
 Victor from vanquish 'd issues at the last, 
 And overthrower from being overthrown. 
 With sword we have not striven ; and thy good 
 
 horse 
 And thou are weary ; yet not less I felt 
 Thy manhood thro' that wearied lance of 
 
 thine. 
 Well hast thou done; for all the stream is 
 
 freed. 
 And thou hast wreak'd his justice on his foes. 
 And when reviled, hast answer'd graciously. 
 And makest merry when overthrown. Prince, 
 
 Knight, 
 Hail, Knight and Prince, and of our Table 
 
 Round!" 
 
 And then when turning to Lynette he told 
 The tale of Gareth, petulantly she said, 
 *' Ay well — ay well — far worse than being fool'd 
 Of others, is to fool one's self. A cave, 
 Sir Lancelot, is hard by, with meats and 
 
 drinks 
 And forage for the horse, and flint for fire. 
 But all about it flies a honeysuckle. 
 Seek, till we find." And when they sought 
 
 and found, 
 Sir Gareth drank and ate, and all his life 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 73 
 
 Past into sleep ; on whom the maiden gazed. 
 *' Sound sleep be thine! sound cause to sleep 
 
 hast thou. 
 Wake lusty ! Seem I not as tender to him 
 As any mother? Ay, but such a one 
 As all day long hath rated at her child, 
 And vext his day, but blesses him asleep — 
 Good lord, how sweetly smells the honeysuckle 
 In the hush'd night, as if the world were one 
 Of utter peace, and love, and gentleness ! 
 O Lancelot, Lancelot" — and she clapt her 
 
 hands — 
 *'Full merry am I to find my goodly knave 
 Is knight and noble. See now, sworn have I, 
 Else yon black felon had not let me pass, 
 To bring thee back to do the battle with him. 
 Thus an thou goest, he will fight thee first; 
 Who doubts thee victor? so will my knight- 
 knave 
 Miss the full flower of this accomplishment. " 
 
 Said Lancelot, " Peradventure he, you name, 
 May know my shield. Let Gareth, an he will, 
 Change his for mine, and take my charger, 
 
 fresh, 
 Not to be spurr'd, loving the battle as well 
 As he that rides him." "Lancelot-like," she 
 
 said, 
 "Courteous in this, Lord Lancelot, as in all." 
 
 And Gareth, wakening, fiercely clutch'd the 
 shield ; 
 "Ramp ye lance-splintering lions, on whom all 
 spears 
 
 6 Idylls 
 
74 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Are rotten sticks! ye seem agape to roar! 
 Yea, ram and roar at leaving of your lord ! — 
 Care not, good beasts, so well I care for you. 
 
 noble Lancelot, from my hold on these 
 Streams virtue — fire — thro' one that will not 
 
 shame 
 Even the shadow of Lancelot under shield. 
 Hence: let us go." 
 
 Silent the silent field 
 They traversed. Arthur's harp tho' summer- 
 wan, 
 In counter motion to the clouds, allured 
 The glance of Gareth dreaming on his liege. 
 A star shot : ' ' Lo, ' ' said Gareth, ' ' the foe falls ! ' ' 
 An owl whoopt: "Hark, the victor pealing 
 
 there ! ' ' 
 Suddenly she that rode upon his left 
 Clung to the shield that Lancelot lent him, 
 
 crying, 
 "Yield, yield him this again: 'tis he must 
 fight: 
 
 1 curse the tongue that all thro' yesterday 
 Reviled thee, and hath wrought on Lancelot 
 
 now 
 To lend thee horse and shield: wonders ye 
 
 have done 
 Miracles ye cannot : here is glory enow 
 In having flung the three: I see thee maim'd, 
 Mangled: I swear thou canst not fling the 
 
 fourth." 
 
 "And wherefore, damsel! tell me all ye 
 know. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 75 
 
 You cannot scare me ; nor rough face, or voice. 
 Brute bulk of limb, or boundless savagery- 
 Appall me from the quest. ' ' 
 
 "Nay, Prince," she cried, 
 **God wot, I never look'd upon the face, 
 Seeing he never rides abroad by day ; 
 But watch 'd him have I like a phantom pass 
 Chilling the night: nor have I heard the voice. 
 Always he made his mouthpiece of a page 
 Who came and went, and still reported him 
 As closing in himself the strength of ten. 
 And when his anger tare him, massacreing 
 Man, woman, lad and girl — yea, the soft babe I 
 Some hold that he hath swallow' d infant flesh, 
 Monster! O Prince, I went for Lancelot first. 
 The quest is Lancelot's: give him back the 
 
 shield." 
 Said Gareth laughing, "An he fight for this, 
 Belike he wins it as the better man : 
 Thus — and not else ! ' ' 
 
 But Lancelot on him urged 
 All the devisings of their chivalry 
 When one might meet a mightier than himself; 
 How best to manage horse, lance, sword and 
 
 shield. 
 And so fill up the"gap where force might fail 
 With skill and fineness. Instant were his 
 
 words. 
 
 Then Gareth, "Here be rules. I know but 
 one — 
 To dash against mine enemy and to win. 
 Yet have I watch'd thee victor in the joust, 
 
76 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And seen thy way." "Heaven help thee," 
 sigh'd Lynette. 
 
 Then for a space, and under cloud that grew 
 To thunder-gloom palling all stars, they rode 
 In converse till she made her palfrey halt. 
 Lifted an arm, and softly whisper'd, ''There.** 
 And all the three were silent seeing, pitch 'd 
 Beside the Castle Perilous on flat field, 
 A huge pavilion like a mountain peak 
 Sunder the glooming crimson on the marge, 
 Black, with black banner, and a long black 
 
 horn 
 Beside it hanging; which Sir Gareth graspt, 
 And so, before the two could hinder him, 
 Sent all his heart and breath thro' all the horn. 
 Echo'd the walls; a light twinkled; anon 
 Came lights and lights, and once again he 
 
 blew; 
 Whereon were hollow tramplings up and down 
 And muffled voices heard, and shadows past; 
 Till high above him, circled with her maids, 
 The Lady Lyonors at a window stood. 
 Beautiful among lights, and waving to him 
 White hands, and courtesy; but when the 
 
 Prince 
 Three times had blown — after long hush — at 
 
 . last— 
 The huge pavilion slowly yielded up, 
 Thro' those black foldings, that which housed 
 
 therein. 
 High on a nightblack horse, in nightblack arms, 
 With white breast-bone, and barren ribs of 
 
 Death, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 77 
 
 And crown 'd with fleshless laughter — some 
 ten steps — 
 
 In the half-light — thro' the dim dawn — ad- 
 vanced 
 
 The monster, and then paused, and spake no 
 word. 
 
 But Gareth spake and all indignantly, 
 "Fool, for thou hast, men say, the strength of 
 
 ten. 
 Canst thou not trust the limbs thy God hath 
 
 given, 
 But must, to make the terror of thee more, 
 Trick thyself out in ghastly imageries 
 Of that which Life hath done with, and the 
 
 clod. 
 Less dull than thou, will hide with mantling 
 
 flowers 
 As if for pity?" But he spake no word ; 
 Which set the horror higher : a maiden swoon 'd ; 
 The Lady Lyonors wrung her hands and wept, 
 As doom'd to be the bride of Night and Death ; 
 Sir Gareth's head prickled beneath his helm; 
 And ev'n Sir Lancelot thro' his warm blood 
 
 felt 
 Ice strike, and all that mark'd him were aghast. 
 At once Sir Lancelot's charger fiercely neigh 'd 
 And Death's dark war-horse bounded for\^,ard 
 
 with him. 
 Then those that did not blink the terror, saw 
 That Death was cast to ground, and slowly 
 
 rose. 
 But with one stroke Sir Gareth split the skull. 
 Half fell to right and half to left and lay. 
 
78 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then with a stronger buffet he clove the helm 
 As thoroughly as the skull ; and out from this 
 Issued the bright face of a blooming boy- 
 Fresh as a flower new-born, and crying, 
 
 *' Knight, 
 Slay me not: my three brethren bade me do it. 
 To make a horror all about the house, 
 And stay the world from Lady Lyonors. 
 They never dream'd the passes would be past. " 
 Answer'd Sir Gareth graciously to one 
 Not many a moon his younger, *'My fair child. 
 What madness made thee challenge the chief 
 
 knight 
 Of Arthur's hall?" "Fair Sir, they bade me 
 
 do it. 
 They hate the King, and Lancelot, the King's 
 
 friend. 
 They hoped to slay him somewhere on the 
 
 stream, 
 They never dream'd the passes could be past. " 
 
 Then sprang the happier day from under 
 ground ; 
 And Lady Lyonors and her house, with dance 
 And revel and song, made merry over Death, 
 As being after all their foolish fears 
 And horrors only proven a blooming boy. 
 So large mirth lived and Gareth won the quest. 
 
 And he that told the tale in older times 
 Says that Sir Gareth wedded Lyonors, 
 But he, that told it later, says Lynette. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 79 
 
 GERAINT AND ENID. 
 
 The brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court, 
 
 A tributary prince of Devon, one 
 
 Of that great Order of the Table Round, 
 
 Had married Enid, Yniol's only child, 
 
 And loved her, as he loved the light of Heaven. 
 
 And as the light of Heaven varies, now 
 
 At sunrise, now at sunset, now by night 
 
 With moon and trembling stars, so loved 
 
 Geraint 
 To make her beauty vary day by day ; 
 In crimsons and in purples and in gems. 
 And Eiiid, but to please her husband's eye, 
 Who first had found and loved her in a state 
 Of broken fortunes, daily fronted him 
 In some fresh splendour; and the Queen her- 
 self. 
 Grateful to Prince Geraint for service done. 
 Loved her, and often with her own white 
 
 hands 
 Array 'd and deck'd her, as the loveliest. 
 Next after her own self, in all the court. 
 And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart 
 Adored her, as the stateliest and the best 
 And loveliest of all women upon earth. 
 And seeing them so tender and so close, 
 Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint. 
 
80 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But when a rumor rose about the Queen, 
 
 Touching her guilty love for Lancelot, 
 
 Tho* yet there lived no proof, not yet was 
 
 heard 
 The world's loud whisper breaking into storm, 
 Not less Geraint believed it ; and there fell 
 A horror on him, lest his gentle wife. 
 Thro' that great tenderness for Guinevere, 
 Had suffer'd, or should suffer any taint 
 In nature : wherefore going to the King, 
 He made this pretext, that his princedom lay 
 Close on the borders of a territory. 
 Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights, 
 Assassins, and all flyers from the hand 
 Of justice, and whatever loathes a law: 
 And therefore, till the King himself should 
 
 please 
 To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm, 
 He craved a fair permission to depart, 
 And there defend his marches ; and the King 
 Mused for a little on his plea, but, last, 
 Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode, 
 And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores 
 Of Severn, and they past to their own land ; 
 Where, thinking, that if ever yet was wife 
 True to her lord, mine shall be so to me. 
 He compass'd her with sweet observances 
 And worship, never leaving her, and grew 
 Forgetful of his promise to the King, 
 Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt. 
 Forgetful of the tilt and tournament. 
 Forgetful of his glory and his name. 
 Forgetful of his princedom and its cares. 
 And this forgetfulness was hateful to her. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 81 
 
 And by and by the people, when they met, 
 In twos and threes, or fuller companies, 
 Began to scoff and jeer and babble of him 
 As of a prince whose manhood was all gone, 
 And molten down in mere uxoriousness. 
 And this she gather'd from the people's eyes: 
 This, too, the women who attired her head. 
 To please her, dwelling on his boundless love. 
 Told Enid, and they sadden'd her the more : 
 And day by day she thought to tell Geraint, 
 But could not out of bashful delicacy ; 
 While he that watch'd her sadden, was the more 
 Suspicious that her nature had a taint. 
 
 At last, it chanced that on a summer morn 
 (They sleeping each by either) the new sun 
 Beat thro' the blindless casement of the room 
 And heated the strong warrior in his dreams; 
 Who, moving, cast the coverlet aside, 
 And bared the knotted column of his throat. 
 The massive square of his heroic breast. 
 And arms on which the standing muscle sloped 
 As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone, 
 Running too vehemently to break upon it. 
 And Enid woke and sat beside the couch, 
 Admiring him, and thought within herself, 
 Was ever man so grandly made as he? 
 Then, like a shadow, past the people's talk 
 And accusation of uxoriousness 
 Across her mind, and bowing over him 
 Low to her own heart piteously she said : 
 
 "O noble breast and all-puissant arms, 
 Am I the cause, I the poor cause that men 
 
82 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Reproach you, saying all your force is gone? 
 I am the cause, because I dare not speak 
 And tell him what I think and what they say. 
 And yet I hate that he should linger here; 
 I cannot love my lord and not his name. 
 Far liefer had I gird his harness on him, 
 And ride with him to battle and stand by, 
 And watch his mightful hand striking great 
 
 blows 
 At caitiffs and at wrongers of the world. 
 Far better were I laid in the dark earth, 
 Not hearing any more his noble voice, 
 Not to be folded more in these dear arms, 
 And darken'd from the high light in his eyes. 
 Than that my lord thro* me should suffer 
 
 shame. 
 Am I so bold, and could I so stand by, 
 And see my dear lord wounded in the strife. 
 Or maybe pierced to death before mine eyes, 
 And yet not dare to tell him what I think. 
 And yet how men slur him, saying all his force 
 Is melted into mere effeminacy ! 
 O me, I fear that I am no true wife. ' ' 
 
 Half inwardly, half audibl}^ she spoke. 
 And the strong passion in her made her weep 
 True tears upon his broad and naked breast, 
 And these awoke him, and by great mischance, 
 He heard but fragments of her later words. 
 And that she fear'd she was not a true wife. 
 And then he thought, "In spite of all my care. 
 For all my pains, poor man, for all my pains, 
 She is not faithful to me, and I see her 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 83 
 
 Weeping for some gay knight in Arthur's 
 
 hall." 
 Then tho' he loved and reverenced her too 
 
 much 
 To dream she could be guilty of foul act, 
 Right thro' his manful breast darted the pang 
 That makes a man, in the sweet face of her 
 Whom he loves most, lonely and miserable. 
 At this he hurl'd his huge limbs out of bed, 
 And shook his drowsy squire awake and cried, 
 *'My charger and her palfrey;" then to her, 
 *'I will ride forth into the wilderness; 
 For tho' it seems my spurs are yet to win, 
 I have not fall'n so low as some would wish. 
 And thou, put on, thy worst and meanest dress 
 And ride with me." And Enid ask'd, amazed, 
 *'If Enid errs, let Enid learn her fault." 
 But he, "I charge thee, ask not, but obey." 
 Then she bethought her of a faded silk, 
 A faded mantle and a faded veil. 
 And moving toward a cedarn cabinet, 
 Wherein she kept them folded reverently 
 With sprigs of summer laid between the folds, 
 She took them, and array 'd herself therein, 
 Remembering when first he came on her 
 Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it, 
 And all her foolish fears about the dress, 
 And all his journey to her, as himself 
 Had told her, and their coming to the court. 
 
 For Arthur on the Whitsuntide before 
 Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk. 
 There on a day, he sitting high in hall, 
 Before him came a forester of Dean. 
 
84 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Wet from the woods, with notice of a hart 
 
 Taller than all his fellows, milky- white. 
 First seen that day: these things he told the 
 
 King. 
 Then the good King gave order to let blow 
 His horns for hunting on the morrow morn. 
 And when the Queen petition 'd for his leave 
 To see the hunt, allow 'd it easily. 
 So with the morning all the court were gone. 
 But Guinevere lay late into the morn, 
 Lost in sweet dreams, and dreaming of her love 
 For Lancelot, and forgetful of the hunt; 
 But rose at last, a single maiden with her. 
 Took horse, and forded Usk, and gain'd the 
 
 wood ; 
 There, on a little knoll beside it, stay'd 
 Waiting to hear the hounds; but heard instead 
 A sudden sound of hoofs, for Prince Geraint, 
 Late also, wearing neither hunting-dress 
 Nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand. 
 Came quickly flashing thro' the shallow ford 
 Behind them, and so gallop'd up the knoll. 
 A purple scarf, at either end whereof 
 There swung an apple of the purest gold, 
 Sway'd round about him, as he gallop'd up 
 To join them, glancing like a dragon-fly 
 In summer suit and silks of holiday. 
 Low bow'd the tributary Prince, and she, 
 Sweetly and statelily, and with all grace 
 Of womanhood and queenhood, answer'd him: 
 "Late, late. Sir Prince," she said, "later than 
 
 we!" 
 "Yea, noble Queen," he answer'd, "and so late 
 That I but come like you to see the hunt, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. fSS 
 
 Not join it." "Therefore wait with me." she 
 
 said; 
 *'For on this little knoll, if anywhere, 
 There is good chance that we shall hear the 
 
 hounds: 
 Here often they break covert at our feet." 
 
 And while they listen'd for the distant hunt, 
 And chiefly for the baying of Cavall, 
 King Arthur's hound of deepest mouth, there 
 
 rode 
 Full slowly by a knight, lady, and dwarf;' 
 Whereof the dwarf lagg'd latest, and the 
 
 knight 
 Had vizor up, and show'd a youthful face, 
 Imperious, and of haughtiest lineaments. 
 And Guinevere, not mindful of his face 
 In the King's hall, desired his name, and sent 
 Her maiden to demand it of the dwarf; 
 Who being vicious, old and irritable, 
 And doubling all his master's vice of pride, 
 Made answer sharply that she should not know. 
 *'Then will I ask it of himself," she said. 
 *'Nay, by my faith, thou shalt not," cried the 
 
 dwarf ; 
 *'Thou art not worthy ev'n to speak of him;" 
 And when she put her horse toward the knight. 
 Struck at her with his whip, and she return'd 
 Indignant to the Queen ; whereat Geraint 
 Exclaiming. "Surely I will learn the name," 
 Made sharply to the dwarf, and ask'd it of him. 
 Who answer'd as before; and when the Prince 
 Had put his horse in motion toward the 
 
 knight, 
 
86 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Struck at him with his whip, and cut his cheek. 
 The Prince's blood spirted upon the scarf, 
 Dyeing it ; and his quick, instinctive hand 
 Caught at the hilt, as to abolish him : 
 But he, from his exceeding manfulness 
 And pure nobility of temperament, 
 Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, refrain 'd 
 From ev'n a word, and so returning said: 
 
 "I will avenge this insult, noble Queen, 
 Done in your maiden's person to yourself: 
 And 1 will track this vermin to their earths : 
 For tho' I ride unarm 'd, I do not doubt 
 To find, at some place I shall come at arms 
 On loan, or else for pledge; and, being found, 
 Then will I fight him, and will break his pride. 
 And on the third day will again be here. 
 So that I be not fall'n in fight. Farewell." 
 
 "Farewell, fair prince, " answer'd the stately 
 Queen. 
 "Be prosperous in this journey, as in all; 
 And may you light on all things that you love, 
 And live to wed with her whom first you love : 
 But ere you wed with any, bring your bride, 
 And I, were she the daughter of a king, 
 Yea, tho' she were a beggar from the hedge, 
 Will clothe her for her bridals like the sun." 
 
 And Prince Geraint, now thinking that he 
 heard 
 The noble hart at bay, now the far horn, 
 A little vext at losing of the hunt, 
 A little at the vile occasion, rode, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 87 
 
 By ups and downs, thro' many a grassy glade 
 And valley, with fixt eye following the three. 
 At last they issued from the world of wood, 
 And climb'd upon a fair and even ridge. 
 And show'd themselves against the sky, and 
 
 sank. 
 And thither came Geraint, and underneath 
 Beheld the long street of a little town 
 In a long valley, on one side whereof, 
 White from the mason's hand, a fortress 
 
 rose; 
 And on one side a castle in decay. 
 Beyond a ridge that spann'd a dry ravine: 
 And out of town and valley came a noise 
 As of a broad brook o'er a shingly bed 
 Brawling, or like a clamour of the rooks 
 At distance, ere they settle for the night. 
 
 And onward to the fortress rode the three. 
 And enter'd, and were lost behind the walls. 
 **So," thought Geraint, "I have track 'd him to 
 
 his earth." 
 And down the long street riding wearily, 
 Found every hostel full, and everywhere 
 Was hammer made to hoof, and the hot hiss 
 And bustling whistle of the youth who scour'd 
 His master's armour; and of such a one 
 He ask'd, "What means the tumult in the 
 
 town?" 
 Who told him, scouring still, *'The sparrow- 
 hawk!" 
 Then riding close behind an ancient churl. 
 Who, smitten by the dusty sloping beam. 
 Went sweating underneath a sack of corn, 
 
88 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Ask'd yet once more what meant the hubbub 
 
 here? 
 Who answer 'd gruffly, *'Ugh! the sparrow- 
 hawk." 
 Then riding further past an armourer's, 
 Who, with back turn'd, and bow'd above his 
 
 work, 
 Sat riveting a helmet on his knee. 
 He put the self-same query, but the man 
 Not turning round, nor looking at him, said: 
 "Friend, he that labours for the sparrow-hawk 
 Has little time for idle questioners." 
 Whereat Geraint fiash'd into sudden spleen: 
 "A thousand pips eat up your sparrow-hawk! 
 Tits, wrens, and all wing'd nothings peck him 
 
 dead! 
 A^e think the rustic cackle of your bourg 
 ( \rhe murmur of the world! What is it to me? 
 O wretched set of sparrows, one and all. 
 Who pipe of nothing but of sparrow-hawks ! 
 Speak, if ye be not like the rest, hawk-mad, 
 Where can I get me harbourage for the night? 
 And arms, arms, arms to fight my enemy? 
 
 Speak!" 
 Whereat the armourer turning all amazed 
 And seeing one so gay in purple silks, 
 Came forward with the helmet yet in hand 
 And answer' d, ''Pardon me, O stranger knight; 
 We hold a tourney here to-morrow morn, 
 And there is scantly time for half the work. 
 Arms? truth! I know not: all are wanted here. 
 Harbourage? truth, good truth, I know not, 
 save, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 89 
 
 It may be, at Earl Yniol's, o'er the bridge 
 Yonder." He spoke and fell to work again. 
 
 Then rode Geraint, a little spleenful yet, 
 Across the bridge that spann'd the dry ravine. 
 There musing sat the hoary-headed Earl 
 (His dress a suit of fray'd magnificence, 
 Once fit for feasts of ceremony), and said: 
 "Whither, fair son?" to whom Geraint replied,. 
 *'0 friend, I seek a harbourage for the night."" 
 Then Yniol, "Enter therefore and partake 
 The slender entertainment of a house 
 Once rich, now poor, but ever open-door'd. "" 
 "Thanks, venerable friend," replied Geraint; 
 "So that ye do not serve me sparrow-hawks 
 For supper, I will enter, I will eat 
 With all the passion of a twelve hours' fast.'* 
 Then sigh'd and smiled the hoary-headed Earl^ 
 And answer'd, "Graver cause than yours is 
 
 mine 
 To curse this hedgerow thief, the sparrow- 
 hawk : 
 But in, go in ; for save yourself desire it. 
 We will not touch upon him ev'n in jest." 
 
 Then rode Geraint into the castle court, 
 His charger trampling may a prickly star 
 Of sprouted thistle on the broken stones. 
 He look'd and saw that all was ruinous. 
 Here stood a shatter'd archway plumed with 
 
 fern; 
 And here had fall'n a great part of a tower. 
 Whole, like a crag that tumbles from the cliffy 
 And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers: 
 
90 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And high above a piece of turret stair, 
 Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound 
 Bare to the sun, and monstrous ivy-stems 
 Claspt the gray walls with hairy-fibred arms, 
 And suck'd the joining of the stones, and look'd 
 A knot, beneath, of snakes, aloft, a grove. 
 
 And while he waited in the castle court, 
 The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang 
 Clear thro' the open casement of the hall. 
 Singing; and as the sweet voice of a bird, 
 Heard by the lander in a lonely isle. 
 Moves him to think what kind of bird it is 
 That sings so delicately clear, and make 
 Conjecture on the plumage and the form ; 
 So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint; 
 And made him like a man abroad at morn 
 When first the liquid note beloved of men 
 Comes flying over many a windy wave 
 To Britain, and in April suddenly 
 Breaks from a coppice gemm'd with green and 
 
 red. 
 And he suspends his converse with a friend, 
 Or it may be the labor of his hands, 
 To think or say, "There is the nightingale;" 
 So fared it with Geraint, who thought and said, 
 *'Here, by God's grace, is the one voice for 
 me. 
 
 It chanced the song that Enid sang was one 
 Of Fortune and her wheel, and Enid sang: 
 
 "Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower 
 the proud; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 91 
 
 Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, 
 
 and cloud ; 
 Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 
 
 "Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile 
 or frown ; 
 With [that wild wheel we go not up or down ; 
 Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. 
 
 "Smile and we smile, the lords of many 
 lands; 
 Frown and we smile, the lords of our own 
 
 hands; 
 For m.an is man and master of his fate. 
 
 "Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring 
 crowd ; 
 Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud ; 
 Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate." 
 
 "Hark, by the bird's song ye may learn the 
 nest," 
 Said Yniol; "enter quickly." Entering then. 
 Right o'er a mount of newly-fallen stones. 
 The dusky-rafter'd many-cobweb'd hall, 
 He found an ancient dame in dim brocade ; 
 And near her, like a blossom vermeil-vv'hite. 
 That lightly breaks a faded flower-sheath. 
 Moved the fair Enid, all in faded silk. 
 Her daughter. In a moment thought Geraint, 
 "Here by God's rood is the one maid for me." 
 But none spake word except the hoary Earl : 
 "Enid, the good knight's horse stands in the 
 court ; 
 
92 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Take him to stall, and give him corn, and then 
 Go to the town and buy us flesh and wine; 
 And we will make us merry as we may. 
 Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great." 
 
 He spake: the Prince, as Enid past him, 
 fain 
 To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol caught 
 His purple scarf, and held, and said, "Forbear! 
 Rest! the good house, tho' ruin'd, O my son. 
 Endures not that her guest should serve him- 
 self." 
 And reverencing the custom of the house 
 Geraint, from utter courtesy, forbore. 
 
 So Enid took his charger to the stall ; 
 And after went her way across the bridge. 
 And reach'd the town, and while the Prince 
 
 and Earl 
 Yet spoke together, came again with one, 
 A youth, that following with a costrel bore 
 The means of goodly welcome, flesh and wine. 
 And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them 
 
 cheer. 
 And in her veil enfolded, manchet bread. 
 And then, because their hall must also serve 
 For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread the 
 
 board. 
 And stood behind, and waited on the three. 
 And seeing her so sweet and serviceable, 
 Geraint had longing in him evermore 
 To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb, 
 That crossed the trencher us she laid it down: 
 But after all had eaten, then Geraint, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 93 
 
 For now the wine made summer in his veins, 
 
 Let his eye rove in following, or rest 
 
 On Enid at her lowly handmaid-work, 
 
 Now here, now there, about the dusky hall; 
 
 Then suddenly addrest the hoary Earl: 
 
 "Fair Host and Earl, I pray your courtesy; 
 This sparrow-hawk, what is he? tell me of him. 
 His name? but no, good faith, I will not have 
 
 it: 
 For if he be the knight whom late I saw 
 Ride into that new fortress by your town. 
 White from the mason's hand, then have I 
 
 sworn 
 From his own lips to have it — I am Geraint 
 Of Devon — for this morning when the Queen 
 Sent her own maiden to demand the name, 
 His dwarf, a vicious under-shapen thing, 
 Struck at her with his whip, and she return 'd 
 Indignant to the Queen ; and then I swore 
 That I would track this caitiff to his hold. 
 And fight and break his pride, and have it of 
 
 him. 
 And all unarm 'd I rode, and thought to find 
 Arms in your town, where all the men are 
 
 mad; 
 They take the rustic murmur of their bourg'v. 
 For the great wave that echoes around the 
 
 world ; 
 They would not hear me speak ; but if ye know 
 Where I can light on arms, or if yourself 
 Should have them, tell me, seeing I have sworn 
 That I will break his pride and learn his name, 
 Avenging, this great insult done the Queen." 
 
 r 
 
94 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then cried Earl Yniol, "Art thou he, 
 
 indeed, 
 Geraint, a name far-sonnded among men 
 For noble deeds? and truly I, when first 
 I saw you moving by* me on the bridge, 
 Felt ye were somewhat, yea, and by your state 
 And presence might have guess 'd you one of 
 
 those 
 That eat in Arthur's hall at Camelot. 
 Nor speak I now from foolish flattery; 
 For this dear child hath often heard me praise 
 Your feats of arms, and often when I paused 
 Hath ask'd again, and ever loved to hear; 
 So grateful is the noise of noble deeds 
 To noble hearts who see but acts of wrong; 
 
 never yet had woman such a pair 
 
 Of suitors as this maiden ; first Limours, 
 A creature wholly given to brawls and wine, 
 Drunk even when he woo'd; and be he dead 
 
 1 know not, but he past to the wild land. 
 The second was your foe, the sparrow-hawk, 
 My curvSe, my nephew — I will not let his name 
 Slip from my lips if I can help it — he, 
 
 Yv^hen I that knew him fierce and turbulent 
 Refused her to him, then his pride awoke; 
 And since the proud man often is the mean. 
 He sow'd a slander in the common ear. 
 Affirming that his father left him gold, 
 And in my charge, which was not render 'd to 
 
 him; 
 Bribed with large promises the men who served 
 About my person, the more easily 
 Because my means were somewhat broken into 
 Thro' open doors and hospitality; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 95 
 
 Raised my own town against me in the night 
 Before my Enid's birthday, sack'd my house; 
 From mine own earldom foully ousted me ; 
 Built that new fort to overawe my friends, 
 For truly there are those who love me yet ; 
 And keeps me in this ruinous castle here, 
 Where doubtless he would put me soon to 
 
 death, 
 But that his pride too much despises me : 
 And I myself sometimes despise myself; 
 For I have let men be, and have their way; 
 Am much too gentle, have not used my power: 
 Nor know I whether I be very base 
 Or very manful, whether very wise 
 Or very foolish ; only this I know, 
 That whatsoever evil happen to me, 
 I seem to suffer nothing heart or limb. 
 But can endure it all most patiently." 
 
 "Well said, true heart," replied Geraint, 
 "but armis, 
 That if the sparrow-hawk, this nephew, fight 
 In next day's tourney I may break his pride." 
 
 And Yniol answered, "Arms, indeed, but old 
 And rusty, old and rusty, Prince Geraint, 
 Are mine, and therefore at thine asking, thine. 
 But in this tournament can no man tilt, 
 Except the lady he loves best be there. 
 Tw^o forks are fixt into the meadow ground, 
 And over these is placed a silver wand. 
 And over that a golden sparrow-hawk, 
 The prize of beauty for the fairest there. 
 And this, what knight soever be in field 
 
9C IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Lays claim to for the lady at his side, 
 
 And tilts with my good nephew thereupon, 
 
 Who being apt at arms and big of bone 
 
 Has ever won it for the lady with him, 
 
 And toppling over all antagonism 
 
 Has earn'd himself the name of sparrow-hawk. 
 
 Eut thou, that hast no lady, canst not fight." 
 
 To whom Geraint with eyes all bright replied, 
 Leaning a little toward him, "Thy leave! 
 Let me lay lance in rest, O noble host, 
 For this dear child, because I never saw, 
 Tho' having seen all beauties of our time. 
 Nor can see elsewhere, anything so fair. 
 And if I fall her name will yet remain 
 Untarnish'd as before: but if I live. 
 So aid me Heaven when at mine uttermost, 
 As I will make her truly my true wife. ' ' 
 
 Then, howsoever patient, Yniol's heart 
 Danced in his bosom, seeing better days. 
 And looking round he saw not Enid there 
 (Who hearing her own name had stol'n away), 
 But that old dame, to whom full tenderly 
 And fondling all her hand in his he said, 
 *' Mother, a maiden is a tender thing. 
 And best by her that bore her understood. 
 Go thou to rest, but ere thou go to rest 
 Tell her, and prove her heart toward the 
 Prince." 
 
 So spake the kindly-hearted Earl, and she 
 With frequent smile and nod departing found, 
 Half-disarray'd as to her rest, the girl; 
 
And near her moved the fair Enid.' 
 
 idylls of the King. 
 
 -Page 91. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 97 
 
 Whom first she kiss'd on either cheek, and then 
 On either shining shoulder laid a hand, 
 And kept her off and gazed upon her face, 
 And told her all their converse in the hall, 
 Proving her heart: but never light and shade 
 Coursed one another more on open ground 
 Beneath a troubled heaven, than red and pale 
 Across the face of Enid hearing her; 
 While slowly falling as a scale that falls. 
 When weight is added only grain by grain, 
 Sank her sweet head upon her gentle breast; 
 Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word, 
 Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it ; 
 So moving v/ithout answer to her rest 
 She found no rest, and ever fail'd to draw 
 The quiet night into her blood, but lay 
 Contemplating her own unworthiness; 
 And when the pale and bloodless east began 
 To quicken to the sun, arose, and raised 
 Her mother too, and hand in hand they moved 
 Down to the meadow where the jousts were held 
 And waited there for Yniol and Geraint. 
 
 And thither came the twain, and when 
 Geraint, 
 Beheld her first in field, awaiting him. 
 He felt were she the prize of bodily force, 
 Himself beyond the rest pushing could move 
 The chair of Idris. Yniol' s rusted arms 
 Were on his princely person, but thro' these 
 Princelike his bearing shone; and errant 
 
 knights 
 And ladies came, and by and by the town 
 Elow'd in, and settling circled all the lists. 
 
 7 Idylls 
 
98 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And there they fixt the forks into the ground. 
 And over these they placed the silver wand, 
 And over that the golden sparrow-hawk. 
 Then Yniol's nephew, after trumpet blown, 
 Spake to the lady with him and proclaim 'd, 
 *' Advance and take as fairest of the fair, 
 For I these two years past have won it for thee, 
 The prize of beauty." Loudly spake the 
 
 Prince, 
 "Forbear: there is a worthier," and the knight 
 With some surprise and thrice as much disdain 
 Turn'd, and beheld the four, and all his face 
 Glow'd like the heart of a great fire at Yule, 
 So burnt he was with passion, crying out, 
 "Do battle for it then, " no more ; and thrice 
 They clash 'd together, and thrice they brake 
 
 their spears. 
 Then each dishorsed and drawing, lash'd at 
 
 each 
 So often and with such blows, that all the 
 
 crowd 
 Wonder'd, and now and then from distant walls 
 There came a clapping as of phantom hands. 
 So twice they fought, and twice they breathed, 
 
 and still 
 The dew of their great labor, and the blood 
 Of their strong bodies, flowing, drain 'd their 
 
 force. 
 But either's force was match 'd till Yniol's cry, 
 ' ' Remember that great insult done the Queen, ' ' 
 Increased Geraint's, who heaved his blade 
 
 aloft, 
 And crack'd the helmet thro', and bit the bone. 
 And fell'd him, and set foot upon his breast, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 99 
 
 And said, "Thy name?" To whom the fallen 
 
 man 
 Made answer, groaning:, "Edyrn, son of Nudd! 
 Ashamed am I that I should tell it thee. 
 My pride is broken: men have seen my fall." 
 "Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd," replied Geraint, 
 "These two things shalt thou do, or else thou 
 
 diest: 
 First, thou thyself, with damsel and with dwarf, 
 Shalt ride to Arthur's court, and coming there, 
 Crave pardon for that insult done the Queen, 
 And shalt abide her judgment on it; next. 
 Thou shalt give back their earldom to thy kin. 
 These two things shalt thou do, or thou shalt 
 
 die." 
 And Edyrn answered, "These things will I do, 
 For I have never yet been overthrown, 
 And thou hast overthrown me, and my pride 
 Is broken down, for Enid sees my fall!" 
 And rising up, he rode to Arthur's court, 
 And there the Queen forgave him easily. 
 And being young, he changed and came to 
 
 loathe 
 His crime of traitor, slowly drew himself 
 Bright from his old dark life, and fell at last 
 In the great battle fighting for the King. 
 
 But when the third day from the hunting- 
 morn 
 Made a low splendor in the world, and wings 
 Moved in her ivy, Enid, for she lay 
 With her fair head in the dim-yellow light, 
 Among the dancing shadows of the birds, 
 Woke and bethought her of her promise given 
 
100 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 No later than last eve to Prince Geraint — 
 So bent he seem'd on going the third day, 
 He would not leave her, till her promise 
 
 given — 
 To ride with him this morning to the court, 
 And there be made known to the stately 
 
 Queen, 
 And there be wedded with all ceremony. 
 At this she cast her eyes upon her dress. 
 And thought it never yet had look'd so 
 
 mean. 
 For as a leaf in Mid-November is 
 To what it was in Mid-October, seem'd 
 The dress that now she look'd on to the dress 
 She look'd on ere the coming of Geraint. 
 And still she look'd, and still the terror grew 
 Of that strange bright and dreadful thing, a 
 
 court. 
 All staring at her in her faded silk : 
 And softly to her own sweet heart she said : 
 
 "This noble prince who won our earldom 
 back, 
 So splendid in his acts and his attire, 
 Sweet heaven, how much I shall discredit 
 
 him! 
 Would he could tarry with us here awhile, 
 But being so beholden to the Prince, 
 It were but little grace in any of us, 
 Bent as he seem'd on going this third day. 
 To seek a second favor at his hands. 
 Yet if he could but tarry a day or two. 
 Myself would work eye dim, and finger lame, 
 Far liefer than so much discredit him." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 101 
 
 And Enid fell in longing for a dress 
 All branch 'd and flower 'd with gold, a costly- 
 gift 
 Of her good mother, given her on the night 
 Before her birthday, three sad years ago, 
 That night of fire, when Edyrn sack'd their 
 
 house, 
 And scatter'd all they had to all the winds: 
 For while the mother show'd it, and the two 
 Were turning and admiring it, the work 
 To both appear'd so costly, rose a cry 
 That Edyrn 's men were on them, and they fled 
 With little save the jewels they had on, 
 Which, being sold, and sold had bought them 
 
 bread: 
 And Edyrn's men had caught them in their 
 
 flight, 
 And placed them in this ruin; and she wish'd 
 The Prince had found her in her ancient home ; 
 Then let her fancy flit across the past. 
 And roam the goodly places that she knew ; 
 And last bethought her how she used to watch, 
 Near that old home, a pool of golden carp ; 
 And one was patch'd and blurr'd and lustreless 
 Among his burnish'd brethren of the pool; 
 And half asleep she made comparison 
 Of that and these to her own faded self 
 And the gay court, and fell asleep again ; 
 And dreamt herself was such a faded form 
 Among her burnish'd sisters of the pool; 
 But this was in the garden of a king ; 
 And tho' she lay dark in the pool, she knew 
 That all was bright, that all about were birds 
 Of sunny plume in gilded trellis-work ; 
 
102 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 That all the turf was rich in plots that look'd 
 
 Each like a garnet or a turkis in it; 
 
 And lords and ladies of the high court went 
 
 In silver tissue talking things of state ; 
 
 And children of the King in cloth of gold 
 
 Glanced at the doors or gambol' d down the 
 
 walks; 
 And while she thought "They will not see me, " 
 
 came 
 A stately queen whose name was Guinevere, 
 And all the children in their cloth of gold 
 Ran to her crying, "If we have fish at all 
 Let them be gold; and charge the gardeners 
 
 now 
 To pick the faded creature from the pool. 
 And cast it on the mixen that it die. ' ' 
 And therewithal one came and seized on her. 
 And Enid started waking, with her heart 
 All overshadow'd by the foolish dream, 
 And lo ! it was her mother grasping her 
 To get her well awake ; and in her hand 
 A suit of bright apparel, which she laid 
 Flat on the couch, and spoke exultingly: 
 
 "See here, my child, how fresh the colors 
 look, 
 How fast they hold like colors of a shell 
 That keeps the wear and polish of the wave. 
 Why not? It never yet was worn, I trow : 
 Look on it, child, and tell me if ye know it." 
 
 And Enid look'd, but all confused at first, 
 Could scarce divide it from her foolish dream : 
 Then suddenly she knew it and rejoiced. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 103 
 
 And answer 'd, "Yea, I know it; your good 
 
 gift, 
 So sadly lost on that unhappy night; 
 Your own good gift!" "Yea, surely," said the 
 
 dame, 
 *'And gladly given again this happy morn. 
 For when the jousts were ended yesterday. 
 Went Yniol thro' the town, and everywhere 
 He found the sack and plunder of our house 
 All scatter'd thro' the houses of the town; 
 And gave command that all which once was 
 
 ours 
 Should now be ours again : and yester-eve, 
 While ye were talking sweetly with your 
 
 Prince, 
 Came one with this and laid it in my hand. 
 For love or fear, or seeking favor of us. 
 Because we have our earldom back again. 
 And yester-eve I would not tell you of it. 
 But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn. 
 Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise? 
 For I myself unwillingly have worn 
 My faded suit, as j^ou, my child, have yours. 
 And howsoever patient, Yniol his. 
 Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house. 
 With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare, 
 And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal, 
 And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all 
 That appertains to noble maintenance. 
 Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house ; 
 But since our fortune swerved from sun to 
 
 shade, 
 And all thro' that young traitor, cruel need 
 Constrain 'd us, but a better time has come; 
 
104 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 So clothe yourself in this, that better fits 
 Our mended fortunes and a Prince's bride : 
 For tho' ye won the prize of fairest fair, 
 And tho' I heard him call you fairest fair, 
 Let never maiden think, however fair, 
 She is not fairer in new clothes than old. 
 And should some great court-lady say, the 
 
 Prince 
 Hath pick'd a ragged robin from the hedge, 
 And like a madman brought her to the court, 
 Then were ye shamed, and, worse, might 
 
 shame the Prince 
 To whom we are beholden ; but I know, 
 When my dear child is set forth at her best. 
 That neither court nor country, tho' they 
 
 sought 
 Thro' all the provinces like those of old 
 That lighted on Queen Esther, hasher match." 
 
 Here ceased the kindly mother out of breath ; 
 And Enid listen'd brightening as she lay; 
 Then, as the white and glittering star of morn 
 Parts from a bank of snow, and by and by 
 Slips into golden cloud, the maiden rose. 
 And left her maiden couch, and robed herself, 
 Help'd by the mother's careful hand and eye. 
 Without a mirror, in the gorgeous gown ; 
 Who, after, turn'd her daughter round, and 
 
 said, 
 She never yet had seen her half so fair; 
 And caird her like that maiden in the tale, 
 Whom Gwydion made by glamour out of 
 
 flowers, 
 And sweeter than the bride of Cassivelaun, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KIXG. 105 
 
 Flur, for whose love the Roman Caesar first 
 Invaded Britain, "But we beat him back, 
 As this great Prince invaded us, and we, 
 Not beat him back, but welcomed him with 
 
 joy. 
 And I can scarcely ride with you to court, 
 For old am I, and rough the ways and wild ; 
 But Yniol goes, and I full oft shall dream 
 I see my princess as I see her now, 
 Clothed with my gift, and gay among the 
 
 gay." 
 
 But while the women thus rejoiced, Geraint 
 Woke where he slept in the high hall, and 
 
 call'd 
 For Enid, and when Yniol made report 
 Of that good mother making Enid gay 
 In such apparel as might well beseem 
 His princess, or indeed the stately Queen, 
 He answer'd: "Earl, entreat her by my love, 
 Albeit I give no reason but my wish, 
 That she ride with me in her faded silk." 
 Yniol with that hard message went ; it fell 
 Like flaws in summer laying lusty corn : 
 For Enid, all abash 'd she knew not why, 
 Dared not to glance at her good mother's face. 
 But silently, in all obedience, 
 Her mother silent too, nor helping her, 
 Laid from her limbs the costly-broider'd gift, 
 And robed them in her ancient suit again. 
 And so descended. Never man rejoiced 
 More than Geraint to greet her thus attired ; 
 And glancing all at once as keenly at her 
 As careful robin's eve the delver's toil, 
 
 8 Idylls 
 
106 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall, 
 But rested with her sweet face satisfied ; 
 Then seeing cloud upon the mother's brow, 
 Her by both hands he caught, and sweetly said, 
 
 "O my new mother, be not wroth or grieved 
 At thy new son, for my petition to her. 
 When late I left Caerleon, our great Queen, 
 In words whose echo lasts, they were so 
 
 sweet. 
 Made promise, that whatever bride I brought. 
 Herself would clothe her like the sun in 
 
 Heaven, 
 Thereafter, when I reach'd this ruin'd hall, 
 Beholding one so bright in dark estate, 
 I vow'd that could I gaki her, our fair Queen, 
 No hand but hers, should make your Enid 
 
 burst 
 Sunlike from cloud — and likewise thought per- 
 haps. 
 That service done so graciously would bind 
 The two together ; fain I would the two 
 Should love each other : how can Enid find 
 A nobler friend? Another thought was mine; 
 I came among you here so suddenly, 
 That tho' her gentle presence at the lists 
 Might well have served for proof that I was 
 
 loved, 
 I doubted whether daughter's tenderness, 
 Or easy nature, might not let itself 
 Be moulded by your wishes for her weal ; 
 Or whether some false sense in her own self 
 Of my contrasting brightness, overbore 
 Her fancy dwelling in this dusky hall; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 107 
 
 And such a sense might make her long for 
 
 court 
 And all its perilous glories : and I thought, 
 That could I somewhat prove such force in her 
 Link'd with such love for me, that at a word 
 (No reason given her) she could cast aside 
 A splendor dear to women, new to her. 
 And therefore dearer ; or if not so new. 
 Yet therefore ten-fold dearer by the power 
 Of intermittent usage; then I felt 
 That I could rest, a rock in ebbs and flows, 
 Fixt on her faith. Now, therefore, I do rest, 
 A prophet certain of my prophecy, 
 That never shadow of mistrust can cross 
 Between us. Grant me pardon for my 
 
 thoughts: 
 And for my strange petition I will make 
 Amends hereafter by some gaudy-day, 
 When your fair child shall wear your costly 
 
 gift 
 Beside your own w^arm hearth, with, on her 
 
 knees. 
 Who knows? another gift of the high God, 
 Which, maybe, shall have learn'd to lisp you 
 
 thanks." 
 
 He spoke: the mother smiled, but half in 
 
 tears, 
 Then brought a mantle down and wrapt her 
 
 in it. 
 And claspt and kiss' d her, and they rode away. 
 
 Now thrice that morning Guinevere had 
 climb'd 
 
108 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 The giant tower, from whose high crest, they 
 
 say, 
 Men saw the goodly hills of Somerset, 
 And white sails flying on the yellow sea; 
 But not to goodly hill or yellow sea 
 Look'd the fair Queen, but up the vale of Usk, 
 By the flat meadow, till she saw them come ; 
 And then descending met them at the gates. 
 Embraced her with all welcome as a friend. 
 And did her honor as the Prince's bride, 
 And clothed her for her bridals like the sun ; 
 And all that week was old Caerleon gay, 
 For by the hands of Dubric, the high saint. 
 They twain were wedded with all ceremony. 
 
 And this was on the last year's Whitsuntide, 
 But Enid ever kept the faded silk, 
 Remembering how first he came on her, 
 Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it, 
 And all her foolish fears about the dress. 
 And all his journey toward her, as himself 
 Had told her, and their coming to the court. 
 
 And now this morning when he said to her, 
 **Put on your worst and meanest dress," she 
 
 found 
 And took it, and array 'd herself therein. 
 
 II. 
 
 O purblind race of miserable men. 
 How many among us at this very hour 
 Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves, 
 ;By taking true for false, or false for true ; 
 Mere, thro' the feeble twilight of this world 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. I0» 
 
 Groping, how many, until we pass and reach 
 That other, where we see as we are seen ! 
 
 So fared it with Geraint, who issuing forth. 
 That morning, when they both had got to 
 
 horse, 
 Perhaps because he loved her passionately, 
 And felt that tempest brooding round his 
 
 heart. 
 Which, if he spoke at all would break perforce 
 Upon a head so dear in thunder, said : 
 "Not at my side. I charge thee ride before^ 
 Ever a good way on before; and this 
 I charge thee, on thy duty as a wife. 
 Whatever happens, not to speak to me. 
 No, not a word!" and Enid was aghast; 
 And forth they rode, but scarce three paces on. 
 When crying out, "Effeminate as I am, 
 I will not fight my way with gilded arms. 
 All shall be iron;" he loosed a mighty purse. 
 Hung at his belt, and hurl'd it toward the 
 
 squire. 
 So the last sight that Enid had of home 
 Was all the marble threshold flashing, strown 
 With gold and scatter'd coinage, and the squire 
 Chafing his shoulder: then he cried again, 
 "To the wilds!" and Enid leading down the 
 
 tracks 
 Thro' which he bade her lead him on, they 
 
 past 
 The marches, and by bandit-haunted holds. 
 Gray swamps and pools, waste places of the 
 
 hern, 
 And wildernesses, perilous paths, they rode: 
 
no IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Round was their pace at first, but slacken*d 
 
 soon: 
 A stranger meeting them had surely thought 
 They rode so slowly and they look'd so pale, 
 That each had suffer'd some exceeding wroi 
 For he was ever saying to himself, 
 *'0 I that wasted time to tend upon her, 
 To compass her with sweet observances. 
 To dress her beautifully and keep her true" — 
 And there he broke the sentence in his heart 
 Abruptly, as a man upon his tongue 
 May break it, when his passion masters him. 
 And she was ever praying the sweet heavens 
 To save her dear lord whole from any wound. 
 And ever in her mind she cast about 
 For that unnoticed failing in herself, 
 Which made him look so cloudy and so cold ; 
 Till the great plover's human whistle amazed 
 Her heart, and glancing round the waste she 
 
 fear'd 
 In every wavering brake an ambuscade. 
 Then thought again, "If there be such in me, 
 I might amend it by the grace of Heaven, 
 If he would only speak and tell me of it. " 
 
 But when the fourth part of the day was 
 
 gone, 
 Then Enid was aware of three tall knights 
 On horseback, wholly arm'd, behind a rock 
 In shadow, waiting for them, caitiffs all; 
 And heard one crying to his fellow, ' 'Look, 
 Here comes a laggard hanging down hia 
 
 head. 
 Who seems no bolder than a beaten hound ; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. Ill 
 
 Come, we will slay him and will have his horse 
 And armor, and his damsel shall be ours. " 
 
 Then Enid ponder'd in her heart, and said, 
 *'I will go back a little to my lord, 
 And I will tell him all their caitiff talk; 
 For, if he be wroth even to slaying me, 
 Far liefer by his dear hand had I die. 
 Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame. " 
 
 Then she went back some paces of return. 
 Met his full frown timidly firm, and said: 
 "My lord, I saw three bandits by the rock 
 Waiting to fall on you, and heard them boast 
 That they would slay you, and possess your 
 
 horse 
 And armor, and your damsel should be theirs. " 
 
 He made a wrathful answer: "Did I wish 
 Your warning or your silence? one command 
 I laid upon you, not to speak to me, 
 And thus ye keep it! Well then, look — for 
 
 now. 
 Whether ye wish me victory or defeat, 
 Long for my life, or hunger for my death, 
 Yourself shall see my vigor is not lost." 
 
 Then Enid waited pale and sorrowful. 
 And down upon him bare the bandit three. 
 And at the midmost charging, Prince Geraint 
 Drave the long spear a cubit thro' his breast 
 And out beyond ; and then against his brace 
 Of comrades, each of whom had broken on him 
 A lance that splintered like an icicle. 
 
112 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Swung from his brand a windy buffet out 
 Once, twice, to right, to left, and stunn'd the 
 
 twain 
 Or slew them, and dismounting like a man 
 That skins the wild beast after slaying him, 
 Stript from the three dead wolves of woman 
 
 born 
 The three gay suits of armor which they wore^ 
 And let the bodies lie, but bound the suits 
 Of armor on their horses, each on each, 
 And tied the bridle-reins of all the three 
 Together, and said to her, "Drive them on 
 Before you;" and she drove them thro' the 
 waste. 
 
 He follow'd nearer: ruth began to work 
 Against his anger in him, while he watch'd 
 The being he loved best in all the world, 
 With difficulty in mild obedience 
 Driving them on : he fain had spoken to her, 
 And loosed in words of sudden fire the wrath 
 And smoulder'd wrong that burnt him all 
 
 within; 
 But evermore it seem'd an easier thing 
 At once without remorse to strike her dead, 
 Than to cry ' ' Halt, ' ' and to her own bright face 
 Accuse her of the least immodesty : 
 And thus tongue-tied, it made him wroth the 
 
 more 
 That she could speak whom his own ear had 
 
 heard 
 Call herself false: and suffering thus he made 
 Minutes an age : but in scarce longer time 
 Than at Caerleon the full- tided Usk, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 113 
 
 Before he turn to fall seaward again, 
 Pauses, did Enid, keeping watch, behold 
 In the first shallow shade of a deep wood, 
 Before a gloom of stubborn-shafted oaks 
 Three other horsemen waiting, wholly arm'd,. 
 Whereof one seem'd far larger than her lord. 
 And shook her pulses, crying, "Look, a prize! 
 Three horses and three goodly suits of arms, 
 And all in charge of whom? a girl: set on." 
 "Nay," said the second, "yonder comes a 
 
 knight." 
 The third, "A craven; how he hangs his head. " 
 The giant answer 'd merrily, "Yea, but one? 
 Wait here, and when he passes fall upon him. '* 
 
 And Enid ponder'd in her heart and said, 
 "I will abide the coming of my lord. 
 And I will tell him all their villainy. 
 My lord is weary with the fight before. 
 And they will fall upon him unawares. 
 I needs must disobey him for his good ; 
 How should I dare obey him to his harm? 
 Needs must I speak, and tho' he kill me for it^ 
 I save a life dearer to me than mine." 
 
 And she abode his coming, and said to him 
 With timid firmness, "Have I leave to speak?" 
 He said, "Ye take it, speaking, " and she spoke. 
 
 "There lurk three villains yonder in the 
 wood, 
 And each of them is wholly arm'd, and one 
 Is larger-limb'd than you are, and they say 
 That they will fall upon you while ye pass." 
 
 8 
 
114 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 To which he flung a wrathful answer back.: 
 *'And if there were an hundred in the wood, 
 And every man were larger-limb'd than I, 
 And all at once should sally out upon me, 
 I swear it would not ruffle me so much 
 As you that not obey me. Stand aside, 
 And if I fall, cleave to the better man." 
 
 And Enid stood aside to wait the event. 
 Not dare to watch the combat, only breathe 
 Short fits of prayer, at every strike a breath, 
 And he, she dreaded most, bare down upon 
 
 him. 
 Aim'd at the helm, his lance err'd; but 
 
 Geraint's, 
 A little in the late encounter strain'd, 
 Struck thro' the bulky bandit's corselet hom.e, 
 And then brake short, and down his enemy 
 
 roll'd, 
 And there lay still ; as he that tells the tale 
 Saw once a great piece of a promontory. 
 That had a sapling growing on it, slide 
 From the long shore-cliff's windy walls to the 
 
 beach. 
 And there lie still, and yet the sapling grew ; 
 So lay the man transfixt. His craven pair 
 Of comrades making slowlier at the Prince, 
 When now they saw their bulwark fallen, stood; 
 On whom the victor, to confound them more, 
 Spurr'd with his terrible war-cry; for as one. 
 That listens near a torrent mountain-brook, 
 All thro' the crash of the near cataract hears 
 The drumming thunder of the huger fall 
 A distance, were the soldiers wont to hear 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 115 
 
 His voice in battle, and be kindled by it. 
 And foemen scared, like that false pair who 
 
 turn'd 
 Flying, but, overtaken, died the death 
 Themselves had wrought on many an innocent. 
 
 Thereon Geraint, dismounting, pick'd the 
 
 lance 
 That pleased him best, and drew from those 
 
 dead wolves 
 Their three gay suits of armor, each from each. 
 And bound them on their horses, each on each, 
 And tied the bridle-reins of all the three 
 Together, and said to her, "Drive them on 
 Before you," and she drove them thro' the 
 
 wood. 
 
 He follow 'd nearer still: the pain she had 
 To keep them in the wild ways of the wood. 
 Two sets of three laden with jingling arms, 
 Together, served a little to disedge 
 The sharpness of that pain about her heart : 
 And they themselves, like creatures gently born 
 But into bad hands fall'n, and now so long 
 By bandits groom'd, prick'd their light ears, 
 
 and felt 
 Her low firm voice and tender government. 
 
 So thro' the green gloom of the wood they 
 past 
 And issuing under open heavens beheld 
 A little town with tovv^ers, upon a rock, 
 And close beneath, a meadow gemlike chased 
 In the brown wild, and mowers mowino: in it: 
 
116 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And down a rocky pathway from the place 
 There came a fair-hair'd youth, that in his hand 
 Bare victuals for the mowers : and Geraint 
 Had ruth again on Enid looking pale : 
 Then, moving downward to the meadow 
 
 ground, 
 He, when the fair-hair'd 3^outh came by him, 
 
 said, 
 ^ "Friend, let her eat; the damsel is so faint." 
 "Yea, willingly," replied the youth; "and 
 
 thou. 
 My lord, eat also, tho' the fare is coarse. 
 And only meet for mowers;" then set down 
 His basket, and dismounting on the sward 
 They let the horses graze, and ate themselves. 
 And Enid took a little delicately. 
 Less having stomach for it than desire 
 To close with her lord's pleasure; but Geraint 
 Ate all the mowers' victual unawares. 
 And when he found all empty, was amazed : 
 And "Boy," said he, "I have eaten all, but 
 
 take 
 A horse and arms for guerdon; choose the 
 
 best." 
 He, reddening in extremity of delight, 
 "My lord, you overpay me fifty-fold." 
 "Ye will be all the wealthier, " cried the Prince, 
 "I take it as free gift, then," said the boy, 
 "Not guerdon; for myself can easily. 
 While your good damsel rests, return, and 
 
 fetch 
 - Fresh victual for these mowers of our Earl ; 
 For these are his, and all the field is his. 
 And I myself am his; and I will tell him 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 117 
 
 How great a man thou art: he loves to know- 
 When men of mark are in his territory: 
 And he will have thee to his palace here, 
 And serve thee costlier than with mowers' 
 fare." 
 
 Then said Geraint, "I wish no better fare: 
 I never ate with angrier appetite 
 Than when I left your mowers dinnerless. 
 And into no Earl's palace will I go. 
 I know, God knows, too much of palaces ! 
 And if he want me, let him come to me. 
 But hire us some fair chamber for the night, 
 And stalling for the horses, and return 
 With victual for these men, and let us know.'* 
 
 "Yea, my kind lord," said the glad youth, 
 
 and went, 
 Held his head high, and thought himself a 
 
 knight. 
 And up the rocky pathway disappear'd. 
 Leading the horse, and they were left alone. 
 
 But when the Prince had brought his errant 
 
 eyes 
 Home from the rock, sideways he let them 
 
 glance 
 At Enid, where she droopt : his own false doom, 
 That shadow of mistrust should never cross 
 Betwixt them, came upon him, and he sigh'd 
 Then with another humorous ruth remark 'd 
 The lusty mowers laboring dinnerless. 
 And watch 'd the sun blaze on the turning 
 
 scythe, 
 
% 
 
 118. IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And after nodded sleepily in the heat. 
 But she, remembering her old ruin'd hall, 
 And all the windy clamor of the daws 
 About her hollow turret, pluck 'd the grass 
 There growing longest by the meadow's edge,, 
 And into many a listless annulet, 
 Now over, now beneath her marriage ring, 
 Wove and unwove it, till the boy return'd 
 And told them of a chamber, and they went; 
 Where, after saying to her, "If ye will. 
 Call for the woman of the house, ' ' to which 
 She answer 'd, "Thanks, my lord;" the two 
 
 remain 'd 
 Apart by all the chamber's width, and mute 
 As creatures voiceless thro' the fault of birth,, 
 Or tho wild men supporters of a shield, 
 Painted, who stare at open space, nor glance 
 The one at other, parted by the shield. 
 
 On a sudden, many a voice along the street. 
 And heel against the pavement echoing, burst 
 Their -drowse ; and either started while the 
 
 door, 
 Push'd from without, drave backward to the 
 
 wall. 
 And midmost of a rout of roisterers. 
 Femininely fair and dissolutely pale, . 
 Her suitor in old years before Geraint, 
 Enter'd, the wild lord of the place, Limours. 
 He moving up with pliant courtliness, 
 Greeted Geraint full face, but stealthily. 
 In the mid-warmth of welcome and' graspt 
 j\ hand, 
 ^caind Enid with the corner of his eye, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 119 
 
 And knew her sitting sad and solitary. 
 Then cried Geraint for wine and goodly cheer 
 To feed the sudden guest, and sumptuously 
 According to his fashion, bade the host 
 Call in what men soever were his friends, 
 And feast with these in honor of their Earl : 
 "And care not for the cost; the cost is mine." 
 
 And wine and food were brought, and Earl 
 Limours v 
 
 Drank till he jested with all ease, and told ^ 
 
 Free tales, and took the word and play'd upon 
 
 it, 
 And made it of two colors ; for his talk. 
 When wine and free companions kindled him, 
 Was wont to glance and sparkle like a gem 
 Of fifty facets ; thus he moved the Prince 
 To laughter and his comrades to applause. 
 Then, when the Prince was merry, ask'd Li- 
 mours, 
 "Your leave, my lord, to cross the room, and 
 
 speak 
 To your good damsel there who sits apart, 
 And seems so lonely?" "My free leave," he 
 
 said; 
 "Get her to speak! she doth not speak to me." 
 Then rose Limours, and looking at his feet, 
 Like him who tries the bridge he fears may 
 
 fail, 
 Crost and came near, lifted adoring eyes 
 Bow'd at her side and utter'd whisperingly : 
 
 "Enid, the pilot star of my lone life, ;#J5l' 
 
 Enid, my early and my only love, ^ '-^r 
 
120 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Enid, the loss of whom hath turn'd me wild, 
 
 What chance is this? how is it I see you here? 
 
 Ye are in my power at last, are in my power. 
 
 Yet fear me not: I call mine own self wild, 
 
 But keep a touch of sweet civility 
 
 Here in the heart of waste and wilderness. 
 
 I thought, but that your father came between, 
 
 In former days you saw me favorably. 
 
 And if it were so do not keep it back : 
 
 Make me a little happier: let me know it: 
 
 Owe you me nothing for a life half-lost? 
 
 Yea, yea, the whole dear debt of all you are. 
 
 And, Enid, you and he, I see with joy, 
 
 Ye sit apart, you do not speak to him, 
 
 You come with no attendance, page or maid, 
 
 To serve you — doth he love you as of old? 
 
 For call it lovers' quarrels, yet I know 
 
 Tho' men may bicker with the things they 
 
 love. 
 They would not make them laughable in all 
 
 eyes. 
 Not while they loved them ; and your wretched 
 
 dress, 
 A wretched insult on you, doubly speaks 
 Your story, that this man loves you no more. 
 Your beauty is no beauty to him now : 
 A common chance — right well I know it — 
 
 pall'd— 
 For I know men : nor will ye win him back, 
 For the man's love once gone never returns. 
 But here is one who loves you as of old ; 
 With more exceeding passion than of old : 
 Good, speak the word: my followers ring him 
 
 round: 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 121 
 
 He sits unarm'd I hold a finger up; 
 
 They understand: nay; I do not mean blood: 
 
 Nor need ye look so scared at what I say: 
 
 My malice is no deeper than a moat, 
 
 No stronger than a wall : there is the keep ; 
 
 He shall not cross us more; speak but the 
 
 word : 
 Or speak it not; but then by Him that made 
 
 me 
 The one true lover whom you ever own'd, 
 I will make use of all the power I have. 
 O pardon me ! the madness of that hour, 
 When first I parted from thee, moves me yet. '* 
 
 At this the tender sound of his own voice 
 And sweet self-pity, or the fancy of it, 
 Made his eye moist; but Enid fear'd his eyes, 
 Moist as they were, wine-heated from the feast ; 
 And answer'd with such craft as women use, 
 Guilty or guiltless, to stave off a chance 
 That breaks upon them perilously, and said: 
 
 "Earl, if you love me as in former years. 
 And do not practise on me, come with morn, 
 And snatch me from him as by violence; 
 Leave me to-night; I am weary to the death. " 
 
 Low at leave-taking, with his brandish 'd 
 plume 
 
 Brushing his instep, bow'd the all-amorous 
 Earl, 
 
 And the stout Prince bade him a loud good- 
 night, 
 
 He moving homeward babbled to his men, 
 
122 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 How Enid never loved a man but him, 
 Nor cared a broken egg-shell for her lord. 
 
 But Enid left alone with Prince Geraint, 
 Debating his command of silence given, 
 And that she now perforce must violate it, 
 Held commune with herself, and while she held 
 He fell asleep, and Enid had no heart 
 To wake him, but hung o'er him, wholly 
 
 pleased 
 To find him yet unwounded after fight. 
 And hear him breathing low and equally. 
 Anon she rose, and stepping lightly, heap'd 
 The pieces of his armor in one place. 
 All to be there against a sudden need ; 
 Then dozed awhile herself, but overtoil'd 
 By that day's grief and travel, evermore 
 Seem'd catching at a rootless thorn, and then 
 Went slipping down horrible precipices, 
 And strongly striking out her limbs awoke ; 
 Then thought she heard the wild Earl at the 
 
 door. 
 With all his rout of random followers, 
 Sound on a dreadful trumpet, summoning her; 
 Which was the red cock shouting to the light, 
 As the gray dawn stole o'er the dewy world. 
 And glimmer 'd on his armor in the room. 
 And once again she rose to look at it, 
 But touch 'd it unawares: jangling, the casque 
 Fell, and he started up and stared at her. 
 Then breaking his command of silence given, 
 She told him all that Earl Limours had said, 
 Except the passage that he loved her not; 
 Nor left untold the craft herself had used ; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 123 
 
 But ended with apology so sweet, 
 Low-spoken, and of so few words, and seem'd 
 So justified by that necessity, 
 That tho, he thought "was it for him she wept 
 In Devon?" he but gave a wrathful groan. 
 Saying, "Your sweet faces make good fellows 
 
 fools 
 And traitors. Call the host and bid him 
 
 bring 
 Charger and palfrey." So she glided out 
 Among the heavy breathings of the house, 
 And like a household Spirit at the walls 
 Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and return'd: 
 Then tendering her rough lord, tho' all un- 
 
 ask'd, 
 In silence, did him service as a squire ; 
 Till issuing arm'd he found the host and cried, 
 "Thy reckoning, friend?" and ere he learnt it, 
 "Take 
 Five horses and their armours ;" and the host 
 Suddenly honest, answer'd in amaze, 
 "My lord, I scarce have spent the worth of 
 
 one!" 
 "Ye will be all the wealthier," said the Prince, 
 And then to Enid, "Forward! and to-day 
 I charge you, Enid, more especially. 
 What thing soever ye may hear, or see, 
 Or fancy (tho' I count it of small use 
 To charge you) that ye speak not, but obey." 
 
 And Enid answer'd, "Yea, my lord, I know 
 Your wish, and would obey; but riding first, 
 I hear the violent threats you do not hear, 
 I see the danger which you cannot see : 
 
124 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then not to give you warning, that seems hard ; 
 Almost beyond me: yet I would obey." 
 
 "Yea so," said he, "do it: be not too wise ; 
 Seeing that ye are wedded to a man, 
 Not all mismated with a yawning clown, 
 But one with arms to guard his head and yours, 
 With eyes to find you out however far, 
 And ears to hear you even in his dreams." 
 
 With that he turn'd and look'd as keenly at 
 her 
 As careful robin's eye to delver's toil; 
 And that within her, which a wanton fool, 
 Or hasty judger would have call'd her guilt, 
 Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall. 
 And Garaint look'd and was not satisfied. 
 
 Then forward by a way which, beaten broad, 
 Led from the territory of false Limours 
 To the waste earldom of another earl, 
 Doorm, whom his shaking vassals call'd the 
 
 Bull, 
 Went Enid with her sullen follower on. 
 Once she look'd back, and when she saw him 
 
 ride 
 More near by many a rood than yestermorn, 
 It wellnigh made her cheerful ; till Garaint 
 Waving an angry hand as who should say 
 "Ye watch me," sadden'd all her heart again. 
 But while the sun yet beat a dewy blade, 
 The sound of many a heavily-galloping hoof 
 Smote on her ear, and turning round she saw 
 Dust, and the points of lances bicker in it. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 125 
 
 Then not to disobey her lord's behest, 
 And yet to give him warning, for he rode 
 As if he heard not, moving back she held 
 Her finger up, and pointed to the dust. 
 At which the wan-ior in his obstinacy, 
 Because she kept the letter of his word, 
 AVas in a manner pleased, and turning, stood. 
 And in the moment after, wild Limours, 
 Borne on a black horse, like a thunder-cloud 
 Whose skirts are loosen'd by the breaking storm 
 Half ridden off with by the thing he rode, 
 And all in passion uttering a dry shriek, 
 Dash'd on Geraint, who closed with him, and 
 
 bore 
 Down by the length of lance and arm beyond 
 The crupper, and so left him stunn'd or dead, 
 And overthrew the next that follow'd him, 
 And blindly rush'd on all the rout behind. 
 But at the flash and motion of the man 
 They vanish'd panic-stricken, like a shoal 
 Of darting fish, that on a summer morn 
 A down the crystal dykes at Camelot 
 Come slipping o'er their shadows on the sand, 
 But if a man who stands upon the brink 
 But lift a shining hand against the sun, 
 There is not left the twinkle of a fin 
 Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower ; 
 So, scared but at the motion of the man, 
 Fled all the boon companions of the Earl, 
 And left him lying in the public way; 
 So vanish friendships only made in wine. 
 
 Then like a stormy sunlight smiled Geraint, 
 Who saw the chargers of the two that fell 
 
126 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Start from their fallen lords, and wildly fly, 
 Mix with the flyers. "Horse and man," he 
 
 said, 
 "All of one mind and all right-honest friends! 
 Not a hoof left: and I methinks till now 
 Was honest — paid with horses and with arms; 
 I cannot steal or plunder, no nor beg : 
 And so what say ye, shall we strip him there 
 Your lover? has your palfrey heart enough 
 To bear his armour? shall we fast, or dine? 
 No? — then do thou, being right honest, pray 
 That we m^ay meet the horsemen of Earl 
 
 Doorm, 
 I too would still be honest." Thus he, said: 
 And sadly gazing on her bridle-reins. 
 And answering not one word, she led the way. 
 
 But as a man to whom a dreadful loss 
 Falls in a far land and he knows it not, 
 But coming back he learns it, and the loss 
 So pains him that he sickens nigh to death ; 
 So fared it with Geraint, who being prick'd 
 In combat with the follower of Limours, 
 Bled underneath his armour secretly. 
 And so rode on, nor told his gentle wife 
 "What ail'd him, hardly knowing it himself. 
 Till his eye darkened and his helmet wagg'd; 
 And at a sudden swerving of the road, 
 Tho' happily down on a bank of grass, 
 The Prince, without a word, from his horse fell. 
 
 And Enid heard the clashing of his fall, 
 Suddenly came, and at his side all pale 
 Dismounting, loosed the fastenings of his arms, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 12T 
 
 Nor let her true hand falter, nor blue eye 
 Moisten, till she had lighted on his wound, 
 And tearing off her veil of faded silk 
 Had bared her forehead to the blistering sun, 
 And swathed the hurt that drain'd her dear 
 
 lord's life. 
 Then after all was done that hand could do, 
 She rested, and her desolation came 
 Upon her, and she wept beside the way. 
 
 And many past, but none regarded her, 
 For in that realm of lawless turbulence, 
 A woman weeping for her murder'd mate 
 Was cared as much for as a summer shower : 
 One took him for a victim of Earl Doorm, 
 Nor dared to waste a perilous pity on him: 
 Another hurrying past, a man-at-arms, 
 Rode on a mission to the bandit Earl; 
 Half whistling and half singing a coarse song, 
 He drove the dust against her veilless eyes: 
 Another, flying from the wrath of Doorm 
 Before an ever- fancied arrow, made 
 The long way smoke beneath him in his fear; 
 At which her palfrey whinnying lifted heel, 
 And scour'd into the coppices and was lost, 
 While the great charger stood, grieved like a 
 man. 
 
 But at the point of noon the huge Earl Doorm, 
 Broad-faced with under-fringe of russet beard. 
 Bound on a foray, rolling eyes of prey, 
 Came riding with a hundred lances up ; 
 But ere he came, like one that hails a ship, 
 Cried out with a big voice, "What, is he dead?'* 
 
128 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 *'No, no, not dead!" she answer'd in all haste. 
 "'Would som-e of your kind people take him up, 
 And bare him hence out of this cruel sun? 
 Most sure am I, quite sure, he is not dead." 
 
 Then said Earl Doorni: "Well, if he be not 
 dead, 
 Why wail ye for him thus? ye seem a child. 
 And be he dead, I count you for a fool; 
 Your wailing will not quicken him : dead or not. 
 Ye mar a comely face with idiot tears. 
 Yet, since the face is comely — some of you, 
 Here, take him up, and bear him to our hall: 
 And if he live, we will have him of our band; 
 And if he die, why earth has earth enough 
 To hide him. See ye take the charger too, 
 A noble one." 
 
 He spake, and past away, 
 But left two brawny spearmen, who advanced, 
 Each growling like a dog, when his good bone 
 Seems to be pluck 'd at by the village boys 
 Who love to vex him eating, and he fears 
 To lose his bone, and lays his foot upon it. 
 Gnawing and growling: so the ruffians growl'd, 
 Fearing to lose, and all for a dead man. 
 Their chance of booty from the morning's raid, 
 Yet raised and laid him on a litter-bier, 
 Such as they brought upon their forays out 
 For those that might be wounded; laid him 
 
 on it 
 All in the hollow of his shield, and took 
 And bore him to the naked hall of Doorm 
 (His gentle charger following him unled) 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 129 
 
 And cast him and the bier in which he lay 
 Down on an oaken settle in the hall, 
 And then departed, hot in haste to join 
 Their luckier mates, but growling- as before. 
 And cursing their lost time, and the dead man, 
 And their own Earl, and their own souls, and 
 
 her. 
 They might as well have blest her: she was 
 
 deaf 
 To blessing or to cursing save from one. 
 
 So for long hours sat Enid by her lord, ^ 
 There in the naked hall, propping his head. 
 And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him. 
 Till at the last he waken'd from his swoon, 
 And found his own dear bride propping his 
 
 head, 
 And chafing his faint hands, and calling to him ; 
 And felt the warm tears falling on his face ; 
 And said to his own heart, "She weeps for 
 
 me:" 
 And yet lay still, and feign 'd himself as dead 
 That he might prove her to the uttermost. 
 And say to his own heart, "She weeps for me. '* 
 
 But in the falling afternoon return 'd 
 The huge Earl Doorm with plunder to the hall. 
 His lusty spearman follow'd him with noise: 
 Each hurling down a heap of things that rang 
 Against the pavement, cast his lance aside, 
 And doff 'd his helm : and then there fluttered 
 
 in. 
 Half-bold, half-frighted, with dilated eyes, 
 A tribe of women, dress'd in many hues, 
 
 9 Idylls 
 
130 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And mingled with the spearmen: and Eaii. 
 
 Doorm 
 Struck with a knife's haft hard against the 
 
 board, 
 And call'd for flesh and wine to feed his spears. 
 And men brought in whole hogs and quarter 
 
 beeves, 
 And all the hall was dim with steam of flesh : 
 And none spake word, but all sat down at 
 
 once, 
 And ate with tumult in the naked hall, 
 Feeding like horses when you hear them feed ; 
 Till Enid shrank far back into herself, 
 To shun the wild ways of the lawless tribe. 
 But when Earl Doorm had eaten all he would. 
 He roll'd his eyes about the hall, and found 
 A damsel drooping in a corner of it. 
 Then he remember' d her, and how she wept; 
 And out of her there came a power upon him ; 
 And rising on the sudden he said, '*Eat! 
 I never yet beheld a thing so pale. 
 God's curse, it makes me mad to see you weep. 
 Eat! Look yourself. Good luck had your 
 
 good man, 
 For were I dead who is it would weep for me? 
 Sweet lady, never since I first drew breath 
 Have I beheld a lily like yourself. 
 And so there lived some colour in your cheek. 
 There is not one among my gentlewomen 
 Were fit to wear your slipper for a glove. 
 But listen to me, and by me be ruled, 
 And I will do the thing I have not done, 
 For ye shall share my earldom with me, girl. 
 And we will live like two birds in one nest. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 131 
 
 And I will fetch 3'OU forage from all fields, 
 For I compel all creatures to my will. " 
 
 He spoke : the brawny spearman let his cheek 
 Bulge with the unswallow'd piece, and turn- 
 ing stared: 
 While some, whose souls the old serpent long 
 
 had drawn 
 Down, as the worm draws in the wither'd leaf 
 And makes it earth, hiss'd each at other's ear 
 What shall not be recorded — women they. 
 Women, or what had been those gracious 
 
 things, 
 But now desired the humbling of their best. 
 Yea, would have help'd him to it: and all at 
 
 once 
 They hated her, who took no thought of them, 
 But answer'd in low voice, her meek head yet 
 Drooping, "I pray you of your courtesy, 
 He being as he is, to let me be." 
 
 She spake so low he hardly heard her speak, 
 But like a mighty patron, satisfied 
 With what himself had done so graciously. 
 Assumed that she had thank'd him, adding, 
 
 "Yea, 
 Eat and be glad, for I account you mine." 
 
 She answer'd meekly, "How should I be 
 glad 
 Henceforth in all the world at anything. 
 Until my lord arise and look upon me?" 
 
 Here the huge Earl cried out upon her talk. 
 As all but empty heart and weariness 
 
132 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And sickly nothing ; suddenly seized on her, 
 And bare her by main violence to the board, 
 And thrust the dish before her, crying, "Eat." 
 
 *'No, no," said Enid, vext, "I will not eat 
 Till yonder man upon the bier arise. 
 And eat with me." "Drink then," he an- 
 swer 'd, "Here!" 
 (And fill'd a horn with wine and held it to her), 
 "Lo! I, myself, when flush'd with fight, or 
 
 hot, 
 God's curse, with anger — often I myself, 
 Before I well have drunken, scarce can eat : 
 Drink therefore and the wine will change your 
 will." 
 
 "Not so," she cried, "by Heaven, I will not 
 drink 
 Till my dear lord arise and bid me do it. 
 And drink with me ; and if he rise no more, 
 I will not look at wine until I die." 
 
 At this he turn'd all red and paced his hall, 
 Now gnaw'd his under, now his upper lip, 
 And coming up close to her, said at last: 
 "Girl, for I see ye scorn my courtesies, 
 Take warning : yonder man is surely dead ; 
 And I compel all creatures to my will. 
 Not eat nor drink? And wherefore wail for one, 
 Who put your beauty to this flout and scorn 
 By dressing it in rags? Amazed am I, 
 Beholding how ye butt against my wish. 
 That I forbear you thus: cross me no more. 
 At least put off to please me this poor gown, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 133 
 
 This silken rag, this beggar-woman's weed: 
 I love that beauty should go beautifully : 
 For see ye not my gentlewomen here, 
 How gay, how suited to the house of one 
 Who loves that beauty should go beautifully? 
 Rise therefore ; robe yourself in this : obey. ' ' 
 
 He spoke, and one among his gentlewomen 
 Display 'd a splendid silk of foreign loom, 
 Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue 
 Play'd into green, and thicker down the front 
 With jewels than the sward with drops of dew. 
 When all night long a cloud clings to the hill. 
 And with the dawn ascending lets the day 
 Strike where it clung: so thickly shone the 
 gems. 
 
 But Enid answer'd, harder to be moved 
 Than hardest tyrants in their day of power, 
 With life-long injuries burning unavenged, 
 And now their hour has come; and Enid said: 
 
 "In this poor gown my dear lord found me 
 first 
 And loved me serving in my father's hall : 
 In this poor gown I rode with him to court. 
 And there the Queen array'd me like the sun: 
 In this poor gown he bade me clothe myself, 
 When now we rode upon this fatal quest 
 Of honour, where no honour can be gain'd: 
 And this poor gown I will not cast aside 
 Until himself arise a living man. 
 And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough : 
 Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be: 
 
134 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 I never loved, can never love but him : 
 Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness, 
 He being as he is, to let me be." 
 
 Then strode the brute Earl up and down his 
 hall. 
 And took his russet beard between his teeth ; 
 Last, coming up quite close, and in his mood 
 Crying, *'I count it of no more avail. 
 Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you ; 
 Take my salute," unknightly with fiat hand, 
 However lightly, smote her on cheek. 
 
 Then Enid, in her utter helplessness. 
 And since she thought, "He had not dared to 
 
 do it. 
 Except he surely knew my lord was dead," 
 Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry, 
 As of a wild thing taken in the trap, 
 Which sees the trapper coming thro' the wood. 
 
 This heard Geraint, and grasping at his 
 sword 
 (It lay beside him in a hollow shield), 
 Made but a single bound, and with a sweep 
 
 of it 
 Shore thro' the swarthy neck, and like a ball 
 The russet-bearded head roll'd on the floor. 
 So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead. 
 And all the men and women in the hall 
 Rose when they saw the dead man rise, and 
 
 fled 
 Yelling as from a spectre, and the two 
 Were left alone together, and he said : 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING' 135 
 
 **Enid, I have used you worse than that dead 
 man, 
 Done you more wrong: we both have under- 
 gone 
 That trouble which has left me thrice your 
 
 own: 
 Henceforward I will rather die than doubt. 
 And here I lay this penance on myself, 
 Not, tho' mine own ears heard you yester- 
 
 morn — 
 You thought me sleeping, but I heard you say, 
 I heard you say, that you were no true wife : 
 I swear I will not ask your meaning in it : 
 I do believe yourself against yourself. 
 And will henceforward rather die than doubt. " 
 
 And Enid could not say one tender word, 
 She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart: 
 She only pray'd him, "Fly, they will return 
 And slay you ; fly, your charger is without, 
 My palfrey lost." "Then, Enid, shall you 
 
 ride 
 Behind me." "Yea," said Enid, "let us go." 
 And moving out they found the stately horse, 
 Who now no more a vassal to the thief. 
 But free to stretch his limbs in lawful fight, 
 Neigh'd with all gladness as they came, and 
 
 stoop 'd 
 With a low whinny toward the pair: and she 
 Kiss'd the white star upon his noble front, 
 Glad also; then Geraint upon the horse 
 Mounted, and reach'd a hand, and on his foot 
 She set her own and climb'd; he turn'd his 
 
 face 
 
136 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And kiss'd her climbing, and she cast her arms 
 About him, and at once they rode away. 
 
 And never yet, since high in Paradise 
 O'er the four rivers the first roses blew, 
 Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind 
 Than lived thro' her, who in that perilous hour 
 Put hand to hand beneath her husband's heart, 
 And felt him hers again: she did not weep, 
 But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist 
 Like that which kept the heart of Eden green 
 Before the useful trouble of the rain : 
 Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyes 
 As not to see before them on the path, 
 Right in the gateway of the bandit hold, 
 A knight of Arthur's court, who laid his lance 
 In rest, and made as if to fall upon him. 
 Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood. 
 She, with her mind all full of what had chanced, 
 Shriek'd to the stranger, *'Slay not a dead 
 
 man!" 
 *'The voice of Enid," said the knight, but she, 
 Beholding it was Edyrn son of Nudd, 
 Was moved so much the more, and shriek'd 
 
 again, 
 **0 cousin, slay not him who gave you life." 
 And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake : 
 *'My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love; 
 I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm; 
 And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him, 
 Who love you, Prince, with something of the 
 
 love 
 Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us 
 For once, when I was up so high in pride 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 137 
 
 That I was halfway down the slope to Hell, 
 By overthrowing me you threw me higher. 
 Now, made a knight of Arthur's Table Round 
 And since I know this Earl, when I myself 
 Was half a bandit in my lawless hour, 
 I come the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm 
 (The King is close behind me) bidding him 
 Disband himself, and scatter all his powers, 
 Submit, and hear the judgment of the King." 
 
 "He hears the judgment of the King of 
 kings." 
 Cried the wan Prince: "and lo, the powers of 
 
 Doorm 
 Are scatter'd, " and he pointed to the field, 
 Where, huddled here and there on mound and 
 
 knoll. 
 Were men and women staring and aghast, 
 While some yet fled ; and then he plainlier told 
 How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall. 
 But when the knight besought him, ' ' Follow me, 
 Prince, to the camp, and in the King's own ear 
 Speak what has chanced : ye surely have en- 
 dured 
 Strange chances here alone ;" that other flush'd 
 And hung his head, and halted in reply, 
 Fearing the mild face of the blameless King, 
 And after madness acted question ask'd: 
 Till Edyrn crying, "If ye will not go 
 To Arthur, then will Arthur come to you," 
 "Enough," he said, "I follow," and they went. 
 But Enid in their going had two fears, 
 One from the bandit scatter'd in the field, 
 And one from Edyrn. Every now and then, 
 
 10 IdyUs 
 
138 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 When Edyrn rein'd his charger at her side, 
 
 She shrank a little. In a hollow land, 
 
 From which old fires have broken, men may 
 
 fear 
 Fresh fire and ruin. He, perceiving, said: 
 
 "Fair and dear cousin, you that most had 
 cause 
 To fear me, fear no longer, I am changed. 
 Yourself were first the blameless cause to make 
 My nature's prideful sparkle in the blood 
 Break into furious flame ; being repulsed 
 By Yniol and yourself, I schemed and wrought 
 Until I overturn 'd him; then set up 
 (With one main purpose ever at my heart) 
 My haughty jousts, and took a paramour; 
 Did her mock-honour as the fairest fair, 
 And, toppling over all antagonism, 
 So wax'd in pride, that I believed myself 
 Unconquerable, for I was wellnigh mad: 
 And, but for my main purpose in these jousts, 
 I should have slain your father, seized yourself. 
 I lived in hope that some time you would come 
 To these my lists with him whom best you 
 
 loved ; 
 And there, poor cousin, with your meek blue 
 
 eyes, 
 The truest eyes that ever answer'd Heaven, 
 Behold me overturn and trample on him. 
 Then, had you cried, or knelt, or pray'd to me, 
 I should not less have kill'd him. And you 
 
 came, — 
 But once you came, — and with your own true 
 
 eyes 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 139 
 
 Beheld the man you love (I speak as one 
 Speaks of a service done him) overthrow 
 My proud self, and my purpose three years old, 
 And set his foot upon me, and give me life. 
 There was I broken down ; there was I saved : 
 Tho' thence I rode all-shamed, hating the life 
 He gave me, meaning to be rid of it. 
 And all the penance the Queen laid upon me 
 Was but to rest awhile within her court ; 
 Where first as sullen as a beast new-caged, 
 And waiting to be treated like a wolf. 
 Because I knew my deeds were known, I found, 
 Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn, 
 Such fine reserve and noble reticence. 
 Manners so kind, yet stately, such a grace 
 Of tenderest courtesy, that I began 
 To glance behind me at my former life, 
 And find that it had been the wolf's indeed: 
 And oft I talk'd with Dubric, the high saint. 
 Who, with mild heat of holy oratory. 
 Subdued me somewhat to that gentleness, 
 Which, when it weds with manhood, makes a 
 
 man. 
 And you were often there about the Queen, 
 But saw me not, or mark'd not if you saw; 
 Nor did I care or dare to speak with you. 
 But kept myself aloof till I was changed ; 
 And fear not, cousin; I am changed indeed."" 
 
 He spoke, and Enid easily believed. 
 Like simple noble natures, credulous 
 Of what they long for, good in friend or foe, 
 There most in those who most have done 
 them ill. 
 
140 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And when they reach 'd the camp the King 
 
 himself 
 Advanced to greet them, and beholding her 
 Tho' pale, yet happy, ask'd her not a word, 
 But went apart with Edyrn, whom he held 
 In converse for a little, and return'd. 
 And, gravely smiling, lifted her from horse, 
 And kiss'd her with all pureness, brother-like, 
 And show'd an empty tent allotted her. 
 And glancing for a minute, till he saw her 
 Pass into it, turn'd to the Prince, and said: 
 
 *' Prince, when of late ye pray'd me for my 
 leave 
 To move to your own land, and there defend 
 Your marches, I was prick'd with some reproof, 
 As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be. 
 By having look'd too much thro' alien eyes, 
 And wrought too long with delegated hands, 
 Not used mine own ; but now behold me come 
 To cleanse this common sewer of all my realm, 
 With Edyrn and with others: have ye look'd 
 At Edyrn? have ye seen how nobly changed? 
 This work of his is great and wonderful. 
 His very face with change of heart is changed, 
 The world will not believe a man repents: 
 And this wise world of ours is mainly right. 
 Full seldom doth a man repent, or use 
 Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch 
 Of blood and custom wholly out of him, 
 And make all clean, and plant himself afresh. 
 Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart 
 As I will weed this land before I go. 
 I, therefore, made him of our Table Round, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 141 
 
 Not rashly, but have proved him every way 
 One of our noblest, our most valorous, 
 Sanest and most obedient: and indeed 
 This work of Edyrn wrought upon himself 
 After a life of violence, seems to me 
 A thousand- fold more great and wonderful 
 Than if some knight of mine, risking his life. 
 My subject with my subjects under him. 
 Should make an onslaught single on a realm 
 Of robbers, tho' he slew them one by one. 
 And were himself nigh wounded to the death. ** 
 
 So spake the King; low bow'd the Prince, 
 and felt 
 His work was neither great nor wonderful. 
 And past to Enid's tent; and thither came 
 The King's own leech to look into his hurt; 
 And Enid tended on him there ; and there 
 Her constant motion round him, and the breath 
 Of her sweet tendance hovering over him, 
 Fill'd all the genial courses of his blood 
 With deeper and with ever deeper love, 
 As the south-west that blowing Bala lake 
 Fills all the sacred Dee. So past the days. 
 
 But while Geraint lay healing of his hurt, 
 The blameless King went forth and cast his 
 
 eyes 
 On each of all whom Uther left in charge 
 Long since, to guard the justice of the King: 
 He look'd and found them wanting; and as 
 
 now 
 Men weed the white horse on the Berkshire 
 
 hills 
 
142 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 To keep him bright and clean as heretofore. 
 He rooted out the slothful officer 
 Or guilty, which for bribe had wink'd at wrong. 
 And in their chairs set up a stronger race 
 With hearts and hands, and sent a thousand 
 
 men 
 To till the wastes, and moving everywhere 
 Clear' d the dark places and let in the law. 
 And broke the bandit holds and cleansed the 
 
 land. 
 
 Then, when Geraint was whole again, tjiey 
 
 past 
 With Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk. 
 There the great Queen once more embraced 
 
 her friend, 
 And clothed her in apparel like the day. 
 And tho' Geraint could never take again 
 That comfort from their converse which he 
 
 took 
 Before the Queen's fair name was breathed 
 
 upon, 
 He rested well content that all was well. 
 Thence after tarrying for a space they rode, 
 And fifty knights rode with them to the shores 
 Of Severn, and they past to their own land. 
 And there he kept the justice of the King 
 So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts 
 Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died : 
 And being ever foremost in the chase. 
 And victor at the tilt and tournament, 
 They call'd him the great Prince and men of 
 
 men. 
 But Enid, whom the ladies loved to call 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 143 
 
 Enid the Fair, a grateful people named 
 Enid the Good ; and in their halls arose 
 The cry of children, Enids and Geraints 
 Of times to be; nor did he doubt her more, 
 But rested in her fealty, till he crown 'd 
 A happy life with a fair death, and fell 
 Against the heathen of the Northern Sea 
 In battle, fighting for the blameless King. 
 
144 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 
 
 A storm was coming, but the winds were still, 
 And in the wild woods of Broceliande, 
 Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old 
 It look'd a tower of ruin'd masonwork, 
 At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay. 
 
 Whence came she? One that bare in bitter 
 
 grudge 
 The scorn of Arthur and his Table, Mark 
 The Cornish King, had heard a wandering 
 
 voice, 
 A minstrel of Caerleon by strong storm 
 Blown into shelter at Tintagil, say 
 That out of naked knightlike purity 
 Sir Lancelot worshipt no unmarried girl 
 But the great Queen herself, fought in her 
 
 name, 
 Sware by her — vows like theirs, that high in 
 
 heaven 
 Love most, but neither marry, nor are given 
 In marriage, angels of our Lord's report. 
 
 He ceased, and then — for Vivien sweetly said 
 (She sat beside the banquet nearest Mark), 
 "And is the fair example follow'd. Sir, 
 In Arthur's household?" — answer 'd innocently : 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 145 
 
 '*Ay, by some few — ay, truly — youths that 
 
 hold 
 It more beseems the perfect virgin knight 
 To worship woman as true wife beyond 
 All hopes of gaining, than as maiden girl. 
 They place their pride in Lancelot and the 
 
 Queen. 
 So passionate for an utter purity 
 Beyond the limit of their bond, are these, 
 For Arthur bound them not to singleness. 
 Brave hearts and clean! and yet — God guide 
 
 them — young. ' ' 
 
 Then Mark was half in heart to hurl his cup 
 Straight at the speaker, but forebore : he rose 
 To leave the hall, and, Vivien following him, 
 Turn'd to her: "Here are snakes within the 
 
 grass; 
 And you methinks, O Vivien, save ye fear 
 The monkish manhood, and the mask of pure 
 Worn by this court, can stir them till they 
 
 sting." 
 
 And Vivien answer'd, smiling scornfully, 
 '*Why fear? because that foster 'd at thy court 
 I savour of thy — virtues? fear them? no. 
 As Love, if Love be perfect, casts out fear, 
 So Hate, if Hate be perfect, casts out fear. 
 My father died in battle against the King, 
 My mother on his corpse in open field ; 
 She bore me there, for born from death was J 
 Among the dead and sown upon the wind — 
 And then on thee! and shown thee truth 
 betimes, 
 
 10 
 
146 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 That old true filth, and bottom of the well, 
 Where Truth is hidden. Gracious lessons 
 
 thine 
 And maxims of the mud ! ' This Arthur pure ! ' 
 Great Nature thro' the flesh herself hath made 
 Gives him the lie ! There is no being pure. 
 My cherub; saith not Holy Writ the same?'^ 
 If I were Arthur, I would have thy blood. 
 Thy blessing, stainless King! I bring thee 
 
 back, 
 When I have ferreted out their burrowings, 
 The hearts of all this Order in mine hand — 
 Ay — so that fate and craft and folly close, 
 Perchance, one curl of Arthur's golden beard. 
 To me this narrow grizzled fork of thine 
 Is cleaner-fashion'd — Well, I loved thee first, 
 That warps the wit." 
 
 Loud laugh 'd the graceless Mark. 
 But Vivien, into Camelot stealing, lodged 
 Low in the city, and on a festal day 
 AVhen Guinevere was crossing the great hall 
 Cast herself down, knelt to the Queen, and 
 wail'd. 
 
 "Why kneel ye there? "WTiat evil have ye 
 
 wrought? 
 Rise!" and the damsel bidden rise arose 
 And stood with folded hands and downward 
 
 eyes 
 Of glancing corner, and all meekly said, 
 *'None wrought, but suffer 'd much, an orphan 
 
 maid! 
 My father died in battle for thy King, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 147 
 
 My mother on his corpse — in open field, 
 The sad sea-sounding wastes of Lyonesse — 
 Poor wretch — no friend! — and now by Mark 
 
 the King 
 For that small charm of feature mine, pursued — 
 If any such be mine — I fly to thee. 
 Save, save me thou — Woman of women — thine 
 The wreath of beauty, thine the crown of 
 
 power. 
 Be thine the balm of pity, O Heaven's own 
 
 white 
 Earth-angel, stainless bride of stainless King — 
 Help, for he follows: take me to thyself! 
 
 yield me shelter for mine innocency 
 Among thy maidens!" 
 
 Here her slow sweet eyes 
 Fear-tremulous, but humbly hopeful, rose 
 Fixt on her hearer's, while the Queen who 
 
 stood 
 AH-glittering^irke May:_^sunshme on May leaves 
 In green and gold, and plumed with green, 
 
 replied, 
 *' Peace, child! of overpraise and overblame 
 We choose the last. Our noble Arthur, him 
 Ye scarce can overpraise, will hear and know. 
 TTay — we believe all evil of thy Mark — 
 Well, we shall test thee farther ; but this hour 
 We ride a-hawking with Sir Lancelot. 
 He hath given us a fair falcon which he train'd; 
 We go to prove it. Bide ye here th^ while." 
 
 She past; and Vivien murmur 'd after "Go! 
 
 1 bide the while." Then thro' the portal-arch 
 
148 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Peering askance, and muttering broken-wise, 
 As one that labours with an evil dream, 
 Beheld the Queen and Lancelot get to horse, 
 
 *'Is that the Lancelot? goodly — ay, but gaunt 
 Courteous — amends for gauntness — takes her 
 
 hand — 
 That glance of theirs, but for the street, had 
 
 been 
 A clinging kiss — how hand lingers in hand! 
 Let go at last ! — they ride away — to hawk 
 For waterfowl. Royaller game is mine. 
 For such a supersensual bond 
 As that gray cricket chirpt of at our hearth — ■ 
 Touch flax with flame — a glance will serve — 
 
 the liars ! 
 /Ah little rat that borest in the dyke 
 Thy hole by night to let the boundless deep 
 Down upon far-off cities while they dance — 
 Or dream — of thee they dream 'd not — nor of 
 
 me 
 
 These — ay, but each of either : ride, and dream 
 The mortal dream that never yet was mine — 
 Ride, ride and dream until ye wake — to me ! 
 Then, narrow court and lubber King, farewell! 
 For Lancelot will be gracious to the rat, 
 And our wise Queen, if knowing that I know, 
 Will hate, loathe, fear — but honour me the 
 
 more. ' ' 
 
 Yet while they rode together down the plain, 
 Their talk was all of training, terms of art. 
 Diet and seeling, jesses, leash and lure. • 
 **She is too noble," he said, "to check at pies, 
 
 V' 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 149 
 
 Nor will she rake : there is no baseness in her. " 
 Here when the Queen demanded as by chance 
 *'Know 3^e the stranger woman?" "Let her 
 
 be," 
 Said Lancelot and unhooded casting off 
 The goodly falcon free; she tower'd; her bells, 
 Tone under tone, shrill'd; and they lifted up 
 Their eager faces, wondering at the strength, 
 Boldness and royal knighthood of the bird 
 Who pounced her quarry and slew it. Many 
 
 a time 
 As once — of old — among the flowers — they 
 
 rode. 
 
 But Vivien half-forgotten of the Queen 
 Among her damsels broidering sat, heard, 
 
 watch 'd 
 And whisper'd: thro' the peaceful court she 
 
 crept 
 And whisper'd: then as Arthur in the highest 
 Leaven'd the world, so Vivien in the lowest, 
 Arriving at a time of golden rest 
 And sowing one ill hint from ear to ear. 
 While all the heathen lay at Arthur's feet, 
 And no quest came, but all was joust and play, 
 Leaven'd his hall. They heard and let her be. 
 
 Thereafter as an enemy that has left 
 Death in the living waters, and withdrawn. 
 The wily Vivien stole from Arthur's court. 
 
 She hated all the knights, and heard in thought 
 Their lavish comment when her name was 
 named. 
 
150 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 For once, when Arthur walking all alone, 
 Vext at a rumor issued from herself 
 Of some corruption crept among his knights, 
 Had met her, Vivien, being greeted fair, 
 Would fain have wrought upon his cloudy 
 
 mood 
 With reverent eyes moc kjloy ah shaken voice, 
 And fluttered adoration, and at last 
 With dark sweet hints of some who prized him 
 
 more 
 Than who should prize him most; at which 
 
 the King 
 Had gazed upon her blankly and gone by ; 
 But one had watch 'd, and had not held his 
 
 peace : 
 It made the laughter of an afternoon 
 That Vivien should attempt the blameless King. 
 And after that, she sat herself to gain 
 Him, the most famous man of all those times. 
 Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, 
 Had built the King his havens, ships, and 
 
 halls. 
 Was also Bard, and knew the starry heavens ; 
 The people call'd him Wizard; whom at first 
 She play'd about with slight and sprightly talk. 
 And vivid smiles, and faintly- venom 'd points 
 Of slander, glancing here and gazing there ; 
 And yielding to his kindlier moods, the Seer 
 Would watch her at her petulance, and play. 
 E'en when they seem'd unlovable, and laugh 
 As those that watch a kitten ; thus he grew 
 Tolerant of what he half disdain'd, and she, 
 Perceiving that she was but half disdain'd, 
 Began to break her sports with graver fits, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 151 
 
 Turn red or pale, would often when they met 
 Sigh fully, or all-silent gaze upon him 
 With such a fixt devotion, that the old man, 
 Tho' doubtful, felt the flattery, and at times 
 Would flutter his own wish in age for love, 
 And half believe her true for thus at times 
 He waver 'd; but that other clung to him, 
 Fixt in her will, and so the seasons went. 
 
 Then fell on Merlin a great melancholy; 
 He walk'd with dreams and darkness, and h( 
 
 found 
 A doom that ever poised itself to fall, 
 An ever-moaning battle in the mist, 
 World-war of dying flesh against the life, 
 Death in all life and lying in all love. 
 The meanest having power upon the highest, 
 And the high purpose broken by the worm. 
 
 So leaving Arthur's court he gain'd the 
 beach ; 
 There found a little boat, and stept into it ; 
 And Vivien follow' d, but he mark'd her not. 
 She took the helm and he the sail ; the boat 
 Drave with a sudden wind across the deeps. 
 And touching Breton sands, they disembark 'd. 
 And then she follow 'd Merlin all the way, 
 Ev'n to the wild woods of Broceliande 
 For Merlin once had told her of a charm, 
 The which if any wrought on anyone 
 With woven paces and with waving arms, 
 The man so wrought on ever seem'd to lie 
 Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower, 
 From which was no escape for evermore ; 
 
152 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And none could find that man for evermore, 
 Nor could he see but him who wrought the 
 
 charm 
 Coming- and going, and he lay as dead 
 And lost to life and use and name and fame. 
 And Vivien ever sought to work the charm 
 Upon the great Enchanter of the Time, 
 As fancying that her glory would be great 
 According to his greatness whom she quench'd. 
 
 There lay she all her length and kiss'd his 
 
 feet, 
 As if in deepest reverence and in love. 
 A twist of gold was round her hair; a robe 
 Of samite without price, that more exprest 
 Than hid her, clung about her lissome limbs, 
 In colour like the satin-shining palm 
 On sallows in the windy gleams of March: 
 And while she kiss'd them, crying, "Trample 
 
 me. 
 Dear feet, that I have follow'd thro' the world, 
 And I pray you worship ; tread me down 
 And I will kiss you for it;" he was mute: 
 So dark a forethought roU'd about his brain. 
 As on a dull day in an Ocean cave 
 The blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall 
 In silence: wherefore, when she lifted up 
 A face of sad appeal, and spake and said, 
 *'0 Merlin, do ye love me?" and again, 
 *'0 Merlin, do ye love me?" and once more, 
 "Great master, do ye love me?" he was mute. 
 And lissome Vivien, holding by his heel, 
 Writhed toward him, slided up his knee and 
 
 sat, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 153 
 
 Behind his ankle twined her hollow feet 
 Together, curved an arm about his neck, 
 Clung like a snake; and letting her left hand 
 Droop from his mighty shoulder, as a leaf. 
 Made with her right a comi>-of pearl to part 
 The lists of such a beard^ youth gone out 
 Had left in ashes : then he spoke and said, 
 Not looking at her, "Who are wise in love 
 Love most, say least," and Vivien answer'd 
 
 quick, 
 "I saw the little elf- god eyeless once 
 In Arthur's arras hall at Camelot: 
 But neither eyes nor tongue — O stupid child! 
 Yet you are wise who say it ; let me think 
 Silence is wisdom; I am silent then. 
 And ask no kiss;" then added all at once, 
 "And lo, I clothe myself wnth wisdom," drew 
 The vast and shaggy mantle of his beard 
 Across her neck and bosom to her knee. 
 And call'd herself a gilded summer fly 
 Caught in a great old tyrant spider's web. 
 Who meant to eat her up in that wild wood 
 Without one word. So Vivien call'd herself^ 
 But rather seem'd a lovely baleful star 
 Veil'd in gray vapour; till he sadly smiled: 
 "To what request for what strange boon," he 
 
 said 
 "Are these your pretty tricks and fooleries, 
 O Vivien, the preamble? yet my thanks. 
 For these have broken up my melancholy. 
 
 And Vivien answer'd smiling saucily, 
 "What, O my Master, have ye found your 
 voice? 
 
154 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Ibid the stranger welcome. Thanks at last! 
 But yesterday you never opened lip, 
 Except indeed to drink: no cup had we: 
 In my own lady palms I cuU'd the spring 
 That gather'd trickling dropwise from the cleft, 
 And made a pretty cup of both my hands 
 And offer'd you it kneeling: then you drank 
 And knew no more, nor gave me one poor 
 
 word; 
 O, no more thanks than might a goat have 
 
 given 
 With no more sign of reverence than a beard. 
 And when we halted at that other well. 
 And I was faint to swooning, and you lay 
 Foot-gilt with all the blossom-dust of those 
 Deep meadows we had traversed, did you know 
 That Vivien bathed your feet before her own? 
 And yet no thanks: and all thro' this wild 
 
 wood 
 And all this morning when I fondled you : 
 Boon, ay, there was a boon, one not so 
 
 strange — 
 How had I wronged you? surely ye are wise, 
 But such a silence is more wise than kind." 
 
 And Merlin lock'd his hand in hers and said: 
 "O did ye never lie upon the shore. 
 And watch the curl'd white of the coming wave 
 Glass'd in the slippery sand before it breaks? 
 Ev'n such a wave, but not so pleasurable. 
 Dark in the glass of some presageful mood, 
 Had I for three days seen, ready to fall. 
 And then I rose and fled from Arthur's court 
 To break the mood. You foUow'd me unask'd; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 155 
 
 And when I look'd, and saw you following still, 
 My mind involved yourself the nearest thing 
 In that mind-mist: for shall I tell you truth? 
 You seem'd that wave about to break upon me 
 And sweep me from my hold upon the world, 
 My use and name and fame. Your pardon, 
 
 child. 
 Your pretty sports have brighten 'd all again. 
 And ask your boon, for boon I owe you thrice, 
 Once for wrong done you by confusion, next 
 For thanks it seems till now neglected, last 
 For these your dainty gambols : wherefore ask ; 
 And take this boon so strange and not so 
 
 strange." 
 
 And Vivien answer'd smiling mournfully ; 
 *'0 not so strange as my long asking it, 
 Not yet so strange as you yourself are strange, 
 Nor half so strange as that dark mood of yours. 
 I ever fear'd ye were not wholly mine ; 
 And see, yourself have own'd ye did me wrong. 
 The people call you prophet : let it be : 
 But not of those that can expound themselves. 
 Take Vivien for expounder: she will call 
 That three-days-long presageful gloom of yours 
 No presage, but the same mistrustful mood 
 That makes you seem less noble than yourself, 
 Whenever I have ask'd this very boon. 
 Now ask'd again : for see you not, dear love, 
 That such a mood as that, which lately gloom 'd 
 Your fancy when ye saw me following you. 
 Must make me feel still more you are not mine. 
 Must make me yearn still more to prove you 
 mine, 
 
156 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And make nie wish still more to learn this 
 
 charm 
 Of woven paces and of waving hands. 
 As proof of trust. O Merlin, teach it me. - 
 The charm so taught will charm us both to rest. 
 For, grant me some slight power upon your 
 
 fate, 
 I, feeling that you felt me worthy trust, 
 Should rest and let you rest, knowing you mine, 
 And therefore be as great as ye are named, 
 Not muffled round with selfish reticence. 
 How hard you look and how denyingly! 
 O, if you think this wickedness in me, 
 That I should prove it on you unawares. 
 That makes me passing wrathful; then our 
 
 bond 
 Had best be loosed forever; but think or not, 
 By Heaven that hears I tell you the clean 
 
 truth. 
 As clean as blood of babes, as white as milk : 
 O Merlin, may this earth, if ever I, 
 If these unwitty wandering wits of mine, 
 Ev'n in the jumbled rubbish of a dream, 
 Have tript on such conjectural treachery — 
 May this hard earth cleave to the Nadir hell 
 Down, down, and close again, and nip me flat, 
 If I be such a traitress. Yield my boon. 
 Till which I scarce can yield you all I am ; 
 And grant my re-reiterated wish, 
 The great proof of your love: because I think. 
 However wise, ye hardly know me yet." 
 
 And Merlin loosed his hand from hers and 
 said. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 157 
 
 "I never was less wise, however wise, 
 Too curious Vivien, tho' you talk of trust, 
 Than when I told you first of such a charm. 
 Yea, if ye talk of trust I tell you this, 
 Too much I trusted when I told you that, 
 And stirr'd this vice in you which ruin'd 
 
 man 
 Thro' woman the first hour; for howsoe'er 
 In children a great curiousness be well. 
 Who have to learn themselves and all the 
 
 world, 
 In you, that are no child, for still I find 
 Your face is practised when I spell the lines, 
 I call it, — well I will not call it vice : 
 But since you name yourself the summer fly, 
 I well could wish a cobweb for the gnat. 
 That settles, beaten back, and beaten back 
 Settles, till one could yield for weariness : 
 But since I will not yield to give you power 
 Upon my life and use and name and fame, 
 Why will ye never ask some other boon? 
 Yea, by God's rood, I trusted you too much." 
 
 And Vivien, like the tenderest-hearted maid 
 That ever bided tryst at village stile. 
 Made answer, either eyelid wet with tears : 
 **Nay, Master, be not wrathful with your 
 
 maid; 
 Caress her: let her feel herself forgiven 
 Who feels no heart to ask another boon. 
 I think ye hardly know the tender rhyme 
 Of 'trust me not at all or all in all. ' 
 I heardThegreat "Sir Lancelot sing it once. 
 And it shall answer for me. Listen to it: 
 
158 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 'In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, 
 Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers: 
 Unfaith in aught is want of faith in alL 
 
 'It is the little rift within the lute. 
 That by and by will make the music mute, 
 And ever widening slowly silence all. 
 
 'The little rift within the lover's lute 
 Or little pitted speck in garner'd fruit, 
 That rotting inwardly slowly moulders all. 
 
 It is not worth the keeping: let it go: 
 s^But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no. 
 .nd trust me not at all or all in all. ' 
 
 O Master, do ye love my tender rhyme?" 
 
 And Merlin look'd and half believed her true. 
 So tender w^as her voice, so fair her face, 
 So sweetly gleam 'd her eyes behind her tears 
 Like sunlight on the plain behind a shower: 
 And yet he answer 'd half indignantly: 
 
 "Far other was the song that once I heard 
 By this huge oak, sung nearly where we sit : 
 For here we met, some ten or twelve of us. 
 To chase a creature that was current then 
 Jrx these wild woods, the hart with golden 
 
 horns. 
 It w-as the time when first the question rose 
 About the founding of a Table Round, 
 That was to be, for love of God and men 
 And noble deeds, the flower of all the world. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 159 
 
 And each incited each to noble deeds. 
 And while we waited, one, the youngest of us. 
 We could not keep him silent, out he flash'd. 
 And into such a song, such fire for fame. 
 Such trumpet-blowings in it, coming down 
 To such a stern and iron-clashing close, 
 That when he stopt we long'd to hurl together, 
 And should have done it; but the beauteous 
 
 beast 
 Scared by the noise upstarted at our feet, 
 And like a silver shadow slipt away 
 Thro' the dim land; and all day long we rode 
 Thro' the dim land against a rushing wind, 
 That glorious roundel echoing in our ears, 
 And chased the flashes of his golden horns 
 Until they vanish 'd by the fairy well 
 That laughs at iron — as our warriors did — 
 Where children cast their pins and nails, and 
 
 cry, 
 'Laugh, little well!' but touch it with a sword, 
 It buzzes fiercely round the point; and there 
 We lost him : such a noble song was that. 
 But, Vivien, when you sang me that sweet 
 
 rhyme, 
 I felt as tho' you knew this cursed charm. 
 Were proving it on me, and that I lay 
 And felt them slowly ebbing, name and fame. '* 
 
 And Vivien answer'd smilingly, mournfully: 
 *'0 mine have ebb'd away for evermore. 
 And all thro' following you to this wild wood, 
 Because I saw you sad, to comfort you. 
 Lo now, what hearts have men! they never 
 mount 
 
160 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 As high as woman in her selfless mood. 
 And touching fame, howe'er ye scorn my song, 
 Take one verse more — the lady speaks it — 
 this: 
 
 *' 'My name, once mine, now thine, is close- 
 
 lier mine, 
 For fame, could fame be mine, that fame were 
 
 thine. 
 And shame, could shame be thine, that shame 
 
 were mine. 
 
 So trust me not at all or all in all. ' 
 
 V 
 
 "Says she not well? and there is more — this 
 
 rhyme 
 Is like the fair pearl-necklace of the Queen, 
 That burst in dancing, and the pearls were 
 
 spilt; 
 Some lost, some stolen, some as relics kept. 
 But nevermore the same two sister pearls 
 Ran down the silken thread to kiss each other 
 On her white neck — so is it with this rhyme : 
 It lives dispersedly in many hands. 
 And every minstrel sings it differently; 
 Yet is there one true line, the pearl of 
 . pearls: 
 
 rMan dreams of Fame while woman wakes to 
 \ love. ' 
 Yea! Love, tho' Love were of the grossest, 
 
 carvei 
 A portion from the solid present, eats 
 And uses, careless of the rest; but Fame, 
 The Fame that follows death is nothing to us; 
 And what is Fame in life but half-disfame, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 161 
 
 And counterchanged with darkness? ye your- 
 self 
 Know well that Envy calls you Devil's son, 
 And since ye seem the Master of all Art, 
 They fain would make you Master of all vice. '* 
 
 And Merlin lock'd his hand in hers and said, 
 *'I once was looking for a magic weed, 
 And found a fair young squire who sat alone, 
 Had carved him.self a knightly shield of wood, 
 And then was painting on it fancied arms, 
 Azure, an Eagle rising or, the Sun 
 In dexter chief: the scroll 'I follow fame.' 
 And speaking not, but leaning over him, 
 I took his brush and blotted out the bird, 
 And made a Gardener putting in a graff , 
 With this for motto, 'Rather use than fame. *\ ^ 
 You should have seen him blush; but after- 
 ward 
 He made a stalwart knight. O Vivien, 
 For you, methinks you think you love me well ; 
 For me, I love you somewhat ; rest : and Love 
 Should have some rest and pleasure in himself. 
 Not ever be too curious for a boon, 
 Too prurient for a proof against the grain 
 Of him ye say ye love : but Fame with men, C 
 Being but ampler means to serve mankind, \ 
 Should have small rest or pleasure in herself, ^ 
 But work as vassal to the larger love, / 
 
 That dwarfs the petty love of one to one. ( 
 Use gave me Fame at first, and Fame again ^ 
 Increasing gave me use. Lo, there my boon ! 
 What other? for men sought to prove me vile, 
 Because I fain had given them greater wits: 
 
 11 Idylls 
 
162 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And then did Envy call me Devil's son: 
 The sick weak beast seeking to help herself 
 By striking at her better, miss'd, and brought 
 Her own claw back, and wounded her own 
 
 heart. 
 Sweet were the days when I was all unknown. 
 But when my name was lifted up, the storm 
 Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. 
 Right well know I that Fame is half-dis> 
 
 fame, 
 Yet needs must work my work. That other 
 
 fame. 
 To one at least who hath not children, vague, 
 The cackle of the unborn about the grave, 
 I cared not for it : a single misty star 
 Which is the second in a line of stars, 
 That seem a sword beneath a belt of three, 
 I never gazed upon it but I dreamt 
 Of some vast charm concluded in that star 
 To make fame nothing. Wherefore, if I fear. 
 Giving you power upon me thro' this charm. 
 That you might play me falsely, having power. 
 However well ye think ye love me now 
 (As sons of kings loving in pupilage 
 Have turn'd to tyrants when they came to 
 
 power) 
 I rather dread the loss of use than fame ; 
 If you — and not so much from wickedness, 
 As some wild turn of anger, or a mood 
 Of overstrain'd affection, it may be, 
 To keep me all to your own self, — or else 
 A sudden spurt of woman s jealousy, — 
 Should try this charm on whom ye say ye 
 
 love. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 163 
 
 And Vivien answer 'd smiling as in wrath: 
 "Have I not sworn? I am not trusted. Good! 
 Well, hide it, hide it; I shall find it out; 
 And being found take heed of Vivien. 
 A woman and not trusted, doubtless I 
 Might feel some sudden turn of anger born 
 Of your misf aith ; and your fine epithet 
 Is accurate, too, for this full love of mine 
 Without the full heart back may merit well 
 Your term of overstrained. So used as I, 
 My daily wonder is, I love at all. 
 And as to woman's jealousy, O why not? 
 O to what end, except a jealous one, 
 And one to make me jealous if I love. 
 Was this fair charm invented by yourself? 
 T well believe that all about this world 
 Ye cage a buxom captive here and there. 
 Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower 
 From which is no escape for evermore." 
 
 Then the great Master merrily answer'd her: 
 "Full many a love in loving youth was mine; 
 I needed then no charm to keep them mine 
 But youth and love; and that full heart of 
 
 yours 
 Whereof ye prattle, may now assure you mine; 
 So live uncharm'd. For those who wrought 
 
 it first, 
 The wrist is parted from the hand that 
 
 waved, 
 The feet unmortised from their ankle-bones 
 Who paced it, ages back: but will ye hear 
 The legend as in guerdon for your rhyme? 
 
164 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 "There lived a king in the most Eastern East, 
 Less old than I, yet older, for my blood 
 Hath earnest in it of far springs to be, 
 A brawny pirate anchor'd in his port, 
 Whose bark had plunder 'd twenty nameless 
 
 isles ; 
 And passing one, at the high peep of dawn. 
 He saw two cities in a thousand boats 
 All fighting for a woman on the sea. 
 And pushing his black craft among them all. 
 He lightly scatter'd theirs, and brought her 
 
 off, 
 With loss of half his people arrow-slain ; 
 A maid, so smooth, so white, so wonderful, 
 They said a light came from her when she 
 
 moved: 
 And since the pirate would not yield her up. 
 The King impaled him for his piracy : 
 Then made her Queen : but those isle-nurtured 
 
 eyes 
 Waged such unwilling tho' successful war 
 On all the youth, they sicken'd; councils 
 
 thinn'd, 
 And armies waned, for magnet-like she drew 
 The rustiest iron of old fighters' hearts; 
 And beasts themselves would worship ; camels 
 
 knelt 
 Unbidden, and the brutes of mountain back 
 That carry kings in castles bow'd black knees 
 Of homage, ringing with their serpent hands. 
 To make her smile, her golden ankle-bells. 
 What wonder, being jealous, that he sent 
 His horns of proclamation out thro' all 
 The hundred under-kingdoms that he sway'd 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 165 
 
 To find a wizard who might teach the King 
 Some charm, which being wrought upon the 
 
 Queen 
 Might keep her all his own : to such a one 
 He promised more than ever king has given, 
 A league of mountain full of golden mines, 
 A province with a hundred miles of coast, 
 A palace and a princess, all for him : 
 But on all those who tried and fail'd, the King 
 Pronounced a dismal sentence, meaning by it 
 To keep the list low and pretenders back. 
 Or like a king, not to be trifled with — 
 Their heads should moulder on the city gates. 
 And m.any tried and fail'd, because the charm 
 Of nature in her overbore their own : 
 And many a wizard brow bleach 'd on the 
 
 walls : 
 And many weeks a troop of carrion crows 
 Hung like a cloud above the gateway towers." 
 
 And Vivien breaking in upon him, said : 
 "I sit and gather honey; yet, methinks, 
 Thy tongue has tript a little : ask thyself. 
 The lady never made unwilling war 
 With those fine eyes: she had her pleasure in 
 
 it, 
 And made her good man jealous with good 
 
 cause. 
 And ived there neither dame nor damsel then 
 Wroth at a lover's loss? were all as tame, 
 I mean, as noble, as their Queen was fair? 
 Not one to flirt a venom at her eyes. 
 Or pinch a murderous dust into her drink, 
 Or make her paler with a poison 'd rose? 
 
166 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Well, those were not our days : but did they 
 
 find 
 A wizard? Tell me, was he like to thee?" 
 
 She ceased, and made her lithe arm round 
 his neck 
 Tighten, and then drew back, and let her eyes 
 Speak for her, glowing on him, like a bride's 
 On her new lord, her own, the first of men. 
 
 He answer' d laughing, "Nay, not like to me. 
 At last they found — his foragers for charms — 
 A little glassy-headed hairless man, 
 Who lived alone in a great wild on grass; 
 Read but one book, and ever reading grew 
 So grated down and filed away with thought, 
 So lean his eyes were monstrous; while the 
 
 skin 
 Clung but to crate and basket, ribs and spine. 
 And since he kept his mind on one sole aim. 
 Nor ever touch'd fierce wine, nor tasted flesh, 
 Nor own'd a sensual wish, to him the wall 
 That sunders ghost and shadow- casting men 
 Became a crystal, and he saw them thro' it, 
 And heard their voices talk behind the v^all. 
 And learnt their elemental secrets, powers 
 And forces; often o'er the sun's bright eye 
 Drew the vast eyelid of an ink}^ cloud. 
 And lash'd it at the base with slanting storm ; 
 Or in the noon of mist and driving rain. 
 When the lake whiten 'd and the pinewood 
 
 roar'd. 
 And the cairn 'd mountain was a shadow, 
 
 sunn'd 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 167 
 
 The world to peace again : here was the man. 
 And so by force they dragg'd him to the King, 
 And then he taught the King to charm the 
 
 Queen 
 In such-wise, that no man could see her more, 
 Nor saw she save the King, who wrought the 
 
 charm, 
 Coming and going, and she lay as dead, 
 And lost all use of life : but when the King 
 Made proffer of the league of golden mines. 
 The province with a hundred miles of coast. 
 The palace and the princess, that old man 
 Went back to his old wild, and lived on grass, 
 And vanish'd, and his book came down to me. " 
 
 And Vivien answer'd smiling saucily: 
 *'Ye have the book: the charm is written in it: 
 Good: take my counsel: let me know it at 
 
 once : 
 For keep it like a puzzle chest in chest, 
 With each chest lock'd and padlock 'd thirty- 
 fold. 
 And whelm all this beneath as vast a mound 
 As after furious battle turfs the slain 
 On some wild down above the windy deep, 
 I yet should strike upon a sudden means 
 To dig, pick, open, find and read the charm: 
 Then, if I tried it, who should blame me then?" 
 
 And smiling as a master smiles at one 
 That is not of his school, nor any school 
 But that where blind and naked Ignorance 
 Delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, 
 On all things all day long, he answer'd her: 
 
168 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 *'Thoii read the book, my pretty Vivien J 
 O ay, it is but twenty pages long, 
 But every page having an ample marge, 
 And every marge enclosing in the midst 
 A square of text that looks a little blot, 
 The text no larger than the limbs of fleas ; 
 And every square of text an awful charm, 
 Writ in a language that has long gone by. 
 So long, that mountains have arisen since 
 With cities on their flanks — thou read the book! 
 And every margin scribbled, crost, and 
 
 cramm'd 
 With comment, densest condensation, hard 
 To mind and eye; but the long sleepless 
 
 nights 
 Of my long life have made it easy to me. 
 And none can read the text, not even I ; 
 And none can read the comment but myself; 
 And in the comment did I find the charm. 
 O, the results are simple ; a mere child 
 Might use it to the harm of anyone, 
 And never could undo it : ask no more : ■ 
 For tho' you should not prove it upon me. 
 But keep that oath ye sware, ye might, per- 
 chance. 
 Assay it on some one of the Table Round, 
 And all because ye dream they babble of you. " 
 
 And Vivien, frowning in true anger, said: 
 "What dare the full-fed liars say of me? 
 They ride abroad, redressing human wrongs! 
 They sit with knife in meat and wine in horn ! 
 They bound to holy vows of chastity ! 
 Were I not woman, I could tell a tale. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 169 
 
 But you are man, you well can understand 
 The shame that cannot be explain 'd for shame. 
 Not one of all the drove should touch me: 
 swine!" 
 
 Then answer'd Merlin careless of her words: 
 *'You breathe but accusation vast and vague, 
 Spleen-born, I think, and proofless. If ye 
 
 know, 
 Set up the charge ye know, to stand or fall!" 
 
 And Vivien answer'd frowning wrathfully, 
 *'0 ay, what say ye to Sir Valence, him 
 Whose kinsman left him watcher o'er his wife 
 And two fair babes, and went to distant 
 
 lands ; 
 Was one year gone, and on returning found 
 Not two but three? there lay the reckling, one 
 But one hour old! What said the happy sire? 
 A seven-months' babe had been a truer gift. 
 Those twelve sweet moons confused his father- 
 hood. ' ' 
 
 Then answer'd Merlin, *'Nay, I know the 
 
 tale. 
 Sir Valence wedded with an outland dame: 
 Some cause had kept him sunder'd from his 
 
 wife : 
 One child they had : it lived with her : she died : 
 His kinsman traveling on his own affair 
 Was charged by Valence to bring home the 
 
 child. 
 He brought, not found it therefore: take the 
 
 truth." 
 
 12 Idylls 
 
no IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 "O ay," said Vivien, **overtrue a tale. 
 What say ye then to sweet Sir Sagramore, 
 That ardent man? 'to pluck the flower in sea- 
 son,' 
 So says the song, ' I trow it is no treason. * 
 
 Master, shall we call him over quick 
 
 To crop his own sweet rose before the hour?" 
 
 And Merlin answer 'd, ''Overquick art thou 
 
 To catch a loathly plume fall'n from the wing 
 
 Of that foul bird of rapine whose whole prey 
 
 Is man's good name: he never wrong'd his 
 
 bride. 
 
 1 know the tale. An angry gust of wind 
 Puff 'd out his torch among the myriad-room'd 
 And many-corridor'd complexities 
 
 Of Arthur's palace: then he found a door, 
 And darkling felt the sculptured ornament 
 That wreathen round it made it seem his 
 
 own; 
 And wearied out made for the couch and 
 
 slept, 
 A stainless man beside a stainless maid ; 
 And either slept, nor knew of other there; 
 Till the high dawn piercing the royal rose 
 In Arthur's casement glimmer'd chastely 
 
 down. 
 Blushing upon them blushing, and at once 
 He rose without a word and parted from her: 
 But when the thing was blazed about the court, 
 The brute world howling forced them into 
 
 bonds, 
 And as it chanced they are happy, being 
 
 pure. ' ' 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 171 
 
 *'0 ay," said Vivien, "that were likely too. 
 What say ye then to fair Sir Percivale 
 And of the horrid foulness that he wrought, 
 The saintly youth, the spotless lamb of Christy 
 Or some black wether of St. Satan's fold. 
 What, in the precincts of the chapel-yard, 
 Among the knightly brasses of the graves, 
 And by the cold Hie Jacets of the dead!" 
 
 And Merlin answer'd careless of her charge, 
 **A sober man is Percivale and pure; 
 But once in life was fluster'd with new wine, 
 Then paced for coolness in the chapel-yard ; 
 Where one of Satan's shepherdesses caught 
 And meant to stamp him with her master's. 
 
 mark; 
 And that he sinn'd is not believable; 
 For, look upon his face! — but if he sinn'd, 
 The sin that practice burns into the blood. 
 And not the one dark hour which brings re- 
 morse, 
 Will brand us, after, of whose fold we be : 
 Or else were he, the holy king, whose hymns 
 Are chanted in the minster, worse than all. 
 But is your spleen froth 'd out, or have ye 
 more?" 
 
 And Vivien answer'd frowning 3^et in wrath: 
 'H) ay; what say ye to Sir Lancelot, friend? 
 Traitor or true? that commerce with the Queen, 
 I ask you, is it clamor 'd by the child. 
 Or whisper 'd in the corner? do ye know it?" 
 
 To which he answer'd sadly, **Yea, I know 
 it. 
 
172 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at first, 
 
 To fetch her, and she watch 'd him from her 
 
 walls. 
 A rumor runs, she took him for the King, 
 So fixt her fancy on him : let them be. 
 But have ye no one word of loyal praise 
 For Arthur, blameless King and stainless 
 
 man?" 
 
 She answer'd with a low and chuckling laugh : 
 *'Man! is he man at all, who knows and winks? 
 Sees what his fair bride is and does; and 
 
 winks? 
 By which the good King means to blind him- 
 self. 
 And blinds himself and all the Table Round 
 To all the foulness that they work. Myself 
 Could call him (were it not for woman- 
 hood) 
 The pretty, popular name such manhood earns, 
 Could call him the main cause of all their 
 
 crime ; 
 Yea, were he not crown 'd King, coward, and 
 fool." 
 
 Then Merlin to his own heart, loathing, said : 
 **0 true and tender! O my liege and King! 
 O selfless man and stainless gentleman. 
 Who wouldst against thine own eye-witness 
 
 fain 
 Have all men true and leal, all women pure ; 
 How, in the mouths of base interpreters, 
 From over-fineness not intelligible 
 To things with every sense as false and foul 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 173 
 
 As the poach'd filth that floods the middle 
 
 street, 
 Is thy white blamelessness accounted blame!" 
 
 But Vivien, deeming Merlin overborne 
 By instance, recommenced, and let her tongue 
 Rage like a fire among the noblest names, 
 Polluting, and imputing her whole self. 
 Defaming and defacing, till she left 
 Not even Lancelot brave, nor Galahad clean. 
 
 Her words had issue other than she will'd. 
 He dragg'd his eyebrow bushes down, and 
 
 made 
 A snowy penthouse for his hollow eyes, 
 And mutter 'd in himself, "Tell her the charm! 
 So, if she had it, would she rail on me 
 To snare the next, and if she had it not 
 So will she rail. What did the wanton say? 
 *Not mount as high;' we scarce can sink as low: 
 For men at most differ as Heaven and earth. 
 But women, worst and best, as Heaven and 
 
 Hell. 
 I know the Table Round, my friends of old ; 
 All brave, and many generous, and some 
 
 chaste. 
 She cloaks the scar of some repulse with lies; 
 I well believe she tempted them and fail'd, 
 Being so bitter : for fine plots may fail, 
 Tho' harlots paint their talk as well as face 
 With colors of the heart that are not theirs. 
 I will not let her know: nine tithes of times 
 Face flatterer and backbiter are the same. 
 And they, sweet soul, that most impute a crime 
 
174 IDYLLS OF THE KING 
 
 Are pronest to it, and impute themselves, 
 Wanting the mental range ; or low desire 
 Not to feel lowest makes them level all ; 
 Yea, they would pare the mountain to the 
 
 plain, 
 To leave an equal baseness: and in this 
 Are harlots like the crowd, and if they find 
 /Some stain or blemish in a name of note. 
 Not grieving that their greatest are so small, 
 Inflate themselves with some insane delight. 
 And judge all nature from her feet of clay. 
 Without the will to lift their eyes, and see 
 Her godlike head crown'd with spiritual fire, 
 And touching other worlds. I am weary of 
 her." 
 
 He spoke in words part heard, in whispers 
 
 part, 
 Half-suffocated in the hoary fell 
 And many-winter'd fleece of throat and chin. 
 But Vivien, gathering somewhat of his mood. 
 And hearing "harlot" mutter'd twice or thrice, 
 Leapt from her session on his lap, and stood 
 Stiff as a viper frozen ; loathsome sight. 
 How from the rosy lips of life and love, 
 Flash'd the bare-grinning skeleton of death! 
 White was her cheek; sharp breaths of anger 
 
 puff'd 
 Her fairy nostril out; her hand half-clench'd 
 Went faltering sideways downward to her belt,, 
 And feeling; had she found a dagger there 
 (For in a wink the false love turns to hate) 
 She would have stabb'd him; but she found it 
 
 not: 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 175 
 
 His eye was calm ; and suddenly she took 
 To bitter weeping like a beaten child, 
 A long, long weeping, not consolable. 
 Then her false voice made way, broken with 
 sobs: 
 
 *'0 crueller than was ever told in tale, 
 Or sung in song! O vainly lavish 'd love! 
 
 cruel, there was nothing wild or strange, 
 
 Or seeming shameful — for what shame in love, ) 
 So love be true, and not as yours is — nothing 
 Poor Vivien had not done to win his trust 
 Who call'd her what he call'd her — all her 
 
 crime 
 All — all — the wish to prove him wholly hers. ' ' 
 
 She mused a little, and then clapt her hands 
 Together with a wailing shriek, and said : 
 *'Stabb'd through the heart's affections to the 
 
 heart ! 
 Seethed like the kid in its own mother's milk! 
 Kill'd with a word worse than a life of blows! 
 
 1 thought that he was gentle, being great : 
 
 God, that I had loved a smaller manf 
 
 1 should have found in him a greater heart. 
 O, I, that flattering my true passion, saw 
 The knights, the court, the King, dark in your 
 
 light, 
 Who loved to make men darker than they are, 
 Because of that high pleasure which I had 
 To seat you sole upon my pedestal 
 Of worship — I am answer'd, and henceforth 
 The course of life that seem'd so flowery to me 
 With you for guide and master, only you, 
 
176 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Becomes the sea- cliff pathway broken short, 
 And ending in a ruin — nothing left, 
 But into some low cave to crawl, and there, 
 If the wolf spare me, weep my life away, 
 Kill'd with inutterable unkindliness. " 
 
 She paused, she turn'd away, she hung her 
 
 head. 
 The snake of gold slid from her hair, the braid 
 Slipt and uncoil'd itself, she wept afresh, 
 And the dark wood grew darker toward the 
 
 storm 
 In silecne, while his anger slowly died 
 Within him, till he let his wisdom go 
 For ease of heart, and half believed her true : 
 Caird her to shelter in the hollow oak, 
 **Come from the storm," and having no reply, 
 Gazed at the heaving shoulder, and the face 
 Hand-hidden, as for utmost grief or shame ; 
 Then thrice essay 'd, by tenderest- touching 
 
 terms. 
 To sleek her ruffled peace of mind, in vain. 
 At last she let herself be conquer'd by him, 
 And as the cageling newly flown returns, 
 The seeming-injured simple-hearted thing 
 Came to her old perch back, and settled there. 
 There while she sat, half-falling from his knees 
 Half-nestled at his heart, and since he saw 
 The slow tear creep from her closed eyelids 
 
 yet, 
 About her, more in kindness than in love, 
 The gentle wizard cast a shielding arm. 
 But she dislink'd herself at once and rose. 
 Her arms upon her breast across, and stood, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 177 
 
 A virtuous gentlewoman deeply wrong'd, 
 Upright and flushed before him: then she 
 said : 
 
 "There must be now no passages of love 
 Betwixt us twain henceforward evermore ; 
 Since, if I be what I am grossly call'd, 
 What should be granted which your own gross 
 
 heart 
 Would reckon worth the taking? I will go. 
 In truth, but one thing now — better have died 
 Thrice than have ask'd it once— could make 
 
 me stay — 
 That proof of trust — so often ask'd in vain ! 
 How justly, after that vile term of yours, 
 I find with grief! I might believe you then, 
 Who knows? once more. Lo! what was once 
 
 to me 
 Mere matter of the fancy, now hath grown 
 The vast necessity of heart and life. 
 Farewell ; think gently of me, for I fear 
 My fate or folly, passing gayer youth 
 For one so old, must be to love thee still. 
 But ere I leave thee let me swear once more 
 That if I schemed against thy peace in this, 
 May yon just heaven, that darkens o'er me, 
 
 send 
 One flash, that, missing all things else, may 
 
 make 
 My scheming brain a cinder, if I lie." 
 
 Scarce had she ceased, when out of heaven a 
 bolt 
 
 12 
 
178 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 (For now the storm was close above them) 
 
 struck, 
 Furrowing a giant oak, and javelining 
 "With darted spikes and splinters of the wood 
 The dark earth round. He raised his eyes and 
 
 saw 
 The tree that shone white-listed thro' the 
 
 gloom. 
 But Vivien, fearing heaven had heard her oath, 
 And dazzled by the livid-flickering fork, 
 And deafen'd with the stammering cracks and 
 
 claps 
 That follow 'd, flying back and crying out, 
 *'0 Merlin, tho' you do not love me, save, 
 Yet save me!" clung to him and hugg'd him 
 
 close ; 
 And call'd him dear protector in her fright, 
 Nor yet forgot her practice in her fright. 
 But wrought upon his mood and hugg'd him 
 
 close. 
 The pale blood of the wizard at her touch 
 Took gayer colors, like an opal warm'd. 
 She blamed herself for telling hearsay tales ; 
 She shook from fear, and for her fault she 
 
 wept 
 Of petulancy; she call'd him lord and liege, 
 Her seer, her bard, her silver star of eve, 
 Her God, her Merlin, the one passionate love 
 Of her whole life; and ever overhead 
 Bellow'd the tempest, and the rotten branch 
 Snapt in the rushing of the river-rain 
 Above them; and in change of glare and 
 
 gloom 
 Her eyes and neck glittering went and came; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 179 
 
 Till now the storm, its burst of passion spent, 
 Moaning and calling out of other lands. 
 Had left the ravaged woodland yet once more 
 To peace ; and what should not have been had 
 
 been, 
 For Merlin, overtalk'd and overworn, 
 Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept. 
 
 Then, in one moment, she put forth the 
 charm 
 Of woven paces and of waving hands. 
 And in the hollow oak he lay as dead, 
 And lost to life and use and name and fame. 
 
 Then crying ' ' I have made his glory mine, ' * 
 And shrieking out "O fool!" the harlot leapt 
 Adown the forest, and the thicket closed 
 Behind her, and the forest echo'd "fool." 
 
180 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 
 
 Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable, 
 
 Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, 
 
 High in her chamber up a tower to the east 
 
 Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot; 
 
 Which first she placed where morning's earliest 
 
 ray- 
 Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam ; 
 Then fearing rust or soilure fashion 'd for it 
 A case of silk, and braided thereupon 
 All the devices blazon 'd on the shield 
 In their own tinct, and added of her wit, 
 A border fantasy of branch and flower. 
 And yellow- throated nestling in the nest. 
 Nor rested thus content, but day by day, 
 Leaving her household and good father, climb 'd 
 That eastern tower, and entering barr'd her 
 
 door, 
 Stript off the case, and read the naked shield. 
 Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his arms, 
 Now made a pretty history to herself 
 Of every dint a sword had beaten in it. 
 And every scratch a lance had made upon it. 
 Conjecturing when and where: this cut is fresh; 
 That ten years back : this dealt him at Caer- 
 
 lyle; 
 That at Caerleon ; this at Camelot : 
 And ah God's mercy, what a stroke was there! 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 181 
 
 And here a thrust that might have kill'd, but 
 God 
 
 Broke the strong lance, and roU'd his enemy- 
 down, 
 
 And saved him : so she lived in fantasy. 
 
 How came the lily maid by that good shield 
 Of Lancelot, she that knew not ev'n his name? 
 He left it with her, when he rode to tilt 
 For the great diamond in the diamond jousts. 
 Which Arthur had ordain 'd, and by that name 
 Had named them, since a diamond was the 
 prize. 
 
 For Arthur, long before they crown 'd him 
 
 King, 
 Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse, 
 Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn. 
 A horror lived about the tarn, and clave 
 Like its own mists to all the mountain side : 
 For here two brothers, one a king, had met 
 And fought together; but their names were 
 
 lost; 
 And each had slain his brother at a blow ; 
 And down they fell and made the glen abhorr'd : 
 And there they lay till all their bones were 
 
 bleach'd. 
 And lichen'd into colour with the crags: 
 And he, that once was a king, had on a crown 
 Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside. 
 And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass, 
 All in a misty moonshine, unawares 
 Had trodden that crown'd skeleton, and the 
 
 skull 
 
i82 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Brake from the nape, and from the skull the 
 
 crown 
 Roll'd into light, and turning on its rims 
 Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn : 
 And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and 
 
 caught. 
 And set it on his head, and in his heart 
 Heard murmurs, "Lo, thou likewise shalt be 
 
 King." 
 
 Thereafter, when a King, he had the gems 
 Pluck'd from the crown, and show'd them ta 
 
 his knights. 
 Saying, ** These jewels, whereupon I chanced 
 Divinely, are the kingdom's, not the King's — 
 For public use ; henceforward let there be. 
 Once every year, a joust for one of these: 
 For so by nine years' proof we need must 
 
 learn 
 Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall 
 
 grow 
 In use of arms and manhood, till we drive 
 The heathen, who, some say, shall rule the 
 
 land 
 Hereafter, which God hinder." Thus he 
 
 spoke : 
 And eight years past, eight jousts had been, 
 
 and still 
 Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year, 
 With purpose to present them to the Queen, 
 When all were won ; but meaning all at once 
 To snare her royal fancy with a boon 
 Worth half her realm, had never spoken 
 word. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 183 
 
 Now for the central diamond and the last 
 And largest, Arthur, holding then his court 
 Hard on the river nigh the place which now 
 Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust 
 At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh 
 Spake (for she had been sick) to Guinevere, 
 "Are you so sick, my Queen, you cannot 
 
 move 
 To these fair jousts?" "Yea, lord," she said, 
 
 "ye know it." 
 "Then will ye miss," he answer 'd, "the great 
 
 deeds 
 Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists, 
 A sight ye love to look on. " And the Queen 
 Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly 
 On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King. 
 He thinking that he read her meaning there, 
 "Stay with me, I am sick; my love is more 
 Than many diamonds, ' ' yielded : and a heart 
 Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen 
 (However much he yearn'd to make complete 
 The tale of diamonds for his destined boon) 
 Urged him to speak against the truth, and say, 
 "Sir King, mine ancient wound is hardly 
 
 whole. 
 And lets me from the saddle;" and the King 
 Glanced first at him, then her, and went his 
 
 way. 
 No sooner gone than suddenly she began : 
 
 "To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, much to 
 blame ! 
 Why go ye not to these fair jousts? the knights 
 Are half of them our enemies, and the crowd 
 
184 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Will murmur, 'Lo the shameless ones, who 
 
 take 
 Their pastime now the trustful King is gone !' ' ' 
 Then Lancelot vext at having lied in vain : 
 *'Are ye so wise? ye were not once so wise, 
 My Queen, that summer when ye loved me 
 
 first. 
 Then of the crowd ye took no more account 
 Thaii of the myriad cricket of the mead, 
 When its own voice clings to each blade of 
 
 grass. 
 And every voice is nothing. As to knights, 
 Them surely can I silence with all ease. 
 But now my loyal worship is allow 'd 
 Of all men: many a bard, without offence. 
 Has link'd our names together in his lay, 
 Lancelot, the flower of bravery, Guinevere, 
 The pearl of beauty : and our knights at feast 
 Have pledged us in this union, while the 
 
 King 
 Would listen smiling. How then? is there 
 
 more? 
 Has Arthur spoken aught? or would yourself, 
 Now weary of my service and devoir. 
 Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord?" 
 
 She broke into a little scornful laugh : 
 *' Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless King, 
 That passionate perfection, my good lord — 
 But who can gaze upon the Sun in heaven? 
 He never spake word of reproach to me. 
 He never had a glimpse of mine untruth. 
 He cares not for me : only here to-day 
 There gleam'd a vague suspicion in his eyes: 
 
And set it on his head." — Page 18'2. 
 
 Idylls of the King. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 185 
 
 Some meddling rogue has tamper 'd with him 
 
 — else 
 Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, 
 And swearing men to vows impossible, 
 To make them like himself: but, friend, to me 
 He is all fault who hath no fault at all : 
 For who loves me must have a touch of earth ; 
 The low sun makes the colour: I am yours. 
 Not Arthur's, as ye know, save by the bond. 
 And therefore hear my words : go to the jousts : 
 The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our 
 
 dream 
 When sweetest; and the vermin voices here 
 May buzz so loud — we scorn them, but they 
 
 sting." 
 
 Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights ; 
 "And with what face, after my pretext made, 
 Shall I appear, O Queen, at Camelot, I 
 Before a King who honours his own word, 
 As if it were his God's?" 
 
 "Yea," said the Queen, 
 "A moral child without the craft to rule. 
 Else had he not lost me : but listen to me, 
 If I must find 3^ou wit: we hear it said 
 That men go down before your spear at a touch, 
 But knowing you are Lancelot; your great 
 
 name, 
 This conquers: hide it therefore ; go unknown : 
 Win! by this kiss you will: and our true King 
 Will then allow your pretext, O my knight, 
 As all for glory ; for to speak him true, 
 Ye know right well, how meek soe'er he seem. 
 
186 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 No keener hunter after glory breathes. 
 
 He loves it in his knights more than himself: 
 
 Then prove to him his work: win and return." 
 
 Then got Sir Lancelot suddenly to horse, 
 Wroth at himself. Not willing to be known, 
 He left the barren-beaten thoroughfare, 
 Chose the green path that show'd the rarer 
 
 foot, 
 And there among the solitary downs, 
 Full often lost in fancy, lost his way; 
 Till as he traced a faintly-shadow'd track, 
 That all in loops and links among the dales 
 Ran to the Castle of Astolat, he saw 
 Fired from the west, far on a hill, the towers. 
 Thither he made, and blew the gateway horn. 
 Then came an old, dumb, myriad-wrinkled 
 
 man, 
 Who let him into lodging and disarm 'd. 
 And Lancelot marvell'd at the wordless man; 
 And issuing found the Lord of Astolat 
 With two strong sons. Sir Torre and Sir 
 
 Lavaine, 
 Moving to meet him in the castle court ; 
 And close behind them stept the lily maid 
 Elaine, his daughter: mother of the house 
 There was not: some light jest among them 
 
 rose 
 With laughter dying down as the great knight 
 Approach'd them: then the Lord of Astolat: 
 *' Whence comest thou, my guest, and by what 
 
 name 
 Livest between the lips? for by thy state 
 And presence I might guess thee chief of those. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 187 
 
 After the King, who eat in Arthur's halls. 
 Him have I seen : the rest, his Table Round, 
 Known as they are, to me they are unknown." 
 
 Then answer 'd Lancelot, the chief of 
 
 knights : 
 *' Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, and 
 
 known. 
 What I by mere mischance have brought, my 
 
 shield. 
 But since I go to joust as one unknown 
 At Camelot for the diamond, ask me not. 
 Hereafter ye shall know me — and the shield — 
 I pray you lend me one, if such you have. 
 Blank, or at least with some device not mine. ' ' 
 
 Then said the" Lord of Astolat, "Here is 
 
 Torre's: 
 Hurt in his first tilt was my son. Sir Torre. 
 And so, God wot, his shield is blank enough. 
 His ye can have." Then added plain Sir 
 
 Torre, 
 *'Yea, since I cannot use it, ye may have it." 
 Here laugh'd the father saying, "Fie, Sir 
 
 Churl, 
 Is that an answer for a noble knight? 
 Allow him ! but Lavaine, my younger here, 
 He is so full of lustihood, he will ride, 
 Joust for it, and win, and bring it in an hour, 
 And set it in this damsel's golden hair. 
 To make her thrice as wilful as before." 
 
 "Nay, father, nay, good father, shame me not 
 Before this noble knight," said young Lavaine, 
 
188 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 "For nothing. Surely I but play'd on Torre: 
 He seem'd so sullen, vext he could not go: 
 A jest, no more! for, knight, the maiden 
 
 dreamt 
 That some one put this diamond in her hand, 
 And that it was too slippery to be held, 
 And slipt and fell into some pool or stream, 
 The castle-well, belike; and then I said 
 That if I went and if I fought and won it 
 (But all was jest and joke among ourselves) 
 Then must she keep it safelier. All was jest. 
 But, father, give me leave, an if he will. 
 To ride to Camelot with this noble knight : 
 Win shall I not, but do my best to win : 
 Young as I am, yet would I do my best." 
 
 *'So ye will grace me," answer 'd Lancelot, 
 Smiling a moment, "with your fellowship 
 O'er these waste downs whereon I lost myself, 
 Then were I glad of you as guide and friend : 
 And you shall win this diamond, — as I hear 
 It is a fair large diamond, — if ye may, 
 And yield it to this maiden, if ye will." 
 *'A fair large diamond," added plain Sir Torre, 
 "Such be for queens, and not for simple 
 
 maids." 
 Then she, who held her eyes upon the ground, 
 Elaine, and heard her name so tost about, 
 Flush 'd slightly at the slight disparagement 
 Before the stranger knight, who, looking at 
 
 her. 
 Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus return 'd: 
 "If what is fair be but for what is fair, 
 And only queens are to be counted so, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 189 
 
 Rash were my judgment then, who deem this 
 
 maid 
 Might w^ear as fair a jewel as is on earth, 
 Not violating the bond of like to like." 
 
 He spoke and ceased: the lily maid Elaine, 
 Won by the mellow voice before she look'd, 
 Lifted her eyes and read his lineaments. 
 The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, 
 In battle with the love he bare his lord, 
 Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his 
 
 time. 
 Another sinning on such heights with one, 
 The flower of all the west and all the world. 
 Had been the sleeker for it: but in him 
 His mood was often like a fiend, and rose 
 And drove him into wastes and solitudes 
 For agony, who was yet a living soul. 
 Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the goodliest man 
 That ever among ladies ate in hall, 
 And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes. 
 However marr'd, of more than twice her 
 
 years, 
 Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the cheek, 
 And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her 
 
 eyes 
 And loved him, with that love which was her 
 
 dooHiT^ 
 
 Then the great knight, the darling of the 
 court. 
 Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall 
 Stept with grace, and not with half disdain 
 Hid under grace, as in a smaller time, 
 But kindl}^ man moving among his kind: 
 
190 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Whom they with meats and vintage of their 
 best 
 
 And talk and minstrel melody entertain'd. 
 
 And much they ask'd of court and Table 
 Round, 
 
 And ever well and readily answer'd he; 
 
 But Lancelot, when they glanced at Guine- 
 vere, 
 
 Suddenly speaking of the wordless man, 
 
 Heard from the Baron that, ten years before, 
 
 The heathen caught and reft him of his tongue. 
 
 *'He learnt and warn'd me of their fierce de- 
 sign 
 
 Against my house, and him they caught and 
 maim'd; 
 
 But I, my sons, and little daughter fled 
 
 From bonds or death, and dwelt among the 
 woods 
 
 By the great river in a boatman's hut. 
 
 Dull days were those, till our good Arthur 
 broke 
 
 The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill. " 
 
 "O there, great lord, doubtless," Lavaine 
 
 said rapt 
 By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth 
 Toward greatness in its elder, "You have 
 
 fought. 
 O tell us — for we live apart — you know 
 Of Arthur's glorious wars." And Lancelot 
 
 spoke 
 And answer'd him at full, as having been 
 With Arthur in the fight which all day long 
 Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem: 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 191 
 
 And in the four loud battles by the shore 
 
 Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war 
 
 That thunder'd in and out the gloomy skirts 
 
 Of Celidon the forest ; and again 
 
 By castle Gurnion, where the glorious King 
 
 Had on his cuirass worn our Lady's Head, 
 
 Carved of one emerald center'd in a sun 
 
 Of silver rays, that lighten'd as he breathed; 
 
 And at Caerleon had he help'd his lord, 
 
 When the strong neighings of the wild white 
 
 Horse 
 vSet every gilded parapet shuddering ; 
 And up in Agned-Cathregonion too, 
 And down the waste sand-shores of Trath 
 
 Treroit, 
 Where many a heathen fell; "and on the 
 
 mount 
 Of Badon I myself beheld the King 
 Charge at the head of all his Table Round, 
 And all his legions crying Christ and him, 
 And break them; and I saw him, after, stand 
 High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume 
 Red as the rising sun with heathen blood, 
 And seeing me, with a great voice he cried, 
 *They are broken, they are broken!' for the 
 
 King, 
 However mild he seems at home, nor cares 
 For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts — 
 For if his own knight cast him down, he 
 
 laughs 
 Saying, his knights are better men than he — 
 Yet in this heathen war the fire of God 
 Fills him : I never saw his like : there lives 
 No greater leader. " 
 
192 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 While he utter'd this, 
 Low to her own heart said the lily maid, 
 *'Save your great self, fair lord;" and when he 
 
 fell 
 From talk of war to traits of pleasantry — 
 Being- mirthful he, but in a stately kind — 
 She still took note that when the living smile 
 Died from his lips, across him came a cloud 
 Of melancholy severe, from which again, 
 Whenever in her hovering to and fro 
 The lily maid had striven to make him cheer, 
 There brake a sudden-beaming tenderness 
 Of manners and of nature : and she thought 
 That all was nature, all, perchance, for her. 
 And all night long his face before her lived. 
 As when a painter, poring on a face. 
 Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man 
 Behind it, and so paints him that his face, 
 The shape and color of a mind and life. 
 Lives for his children, ever at its best 
 And fullest ; so the face before her lived. 
 Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full 
 Of noble things, and held her from her sleep. 
 Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought 
 She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. 
 First as in fear, step after step, she stole 
 Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating : 
 Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, 
 *'This shield, my friend, where is it?" and 
 
 Lavaine 
 Past inward, as she came from out the tower. 
 There to his proud horse Lancelot turn'd, and 
 
 sm.ooth'd 
 The glossy shoulder, humming to himself. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 193 
 
 Half-envious of the flattering hand, she drew 
 Nearer and stood. He look'd, and more 
 
 amazed 
 Than if seven men had set upon him, saw 
 The maiden standing in the dewy light. 
 He had not dream 'd she was so beautiful. 
 Then came on him a sort of sacred fear, 
 For silent, tho' he greeted her, she stood 
 Rapt on his face as if it were a God's. 
 Suddenly flash'd on her a wild desire, 
 That he should wear her favor at the tilt. 
 She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. 
 *'Fair lord, whose name I know not — noble it 
 
 is, 
 I well believe, the noblest — will you wear 
 My favor at this tourney?" "Nay," said he, 
 *'Fair lady, since I never yet have worn 
 Favor of any lady in the lists. 
 Such is my wont, as those, who know me, 
 
 know." 
 *'Yea, so," she answer'd; "then in wearing 
 
 mine 
 Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord, 
 That those who know should know you." And 
 
 he turn'd 
 Her counsel up and down within his mind, 
 And found it true, and answer'd, "True, my 
 
 child. 
 Well, I will wear it: fetch it out to me: 
 What is it?" and she told him "A red sleeve 
 Broider'd with pearls," and brought it: then 
 
 he bound 
 Her token on his helmet, with a smile 
 Saying, "I never yet have done<so much 
 
 13 Idylls 
 
194 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 For any maiden living," and the blood 
 Sprang to her face and fill'd her with delight; 
 But left her all the paler^ when Lavaine 
 Returning brought the yet-unblazon'd shield. 
 His brother's; which he gave to Lancelot,/ 
 Who parted with his own to fair Elaine : J 
 *'Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield 
 In keeping till I come." "A grace to me," 
 She answer 'd, "twice to-day. I am your 
 
 squire!" 
 Whereat Lavaine said, laughing, "Lily maid. 
 For fear our people call you lily maid 
 In earnest, let me bring your color back ; 
 Once, twice, and thrice : now get you hence to 
 
 bed;" 
 So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his own hand. 
 And thus they moved away: she stay'd a min- 
 ute. 
 Then made a sudden step to the gate, and 
 
 there — 
 Her bright hair blown about the serious face 
 Yet rosy-kindled with her brother's kiss — 
 Paused by the gateway, standing near the 
 
 ■ shield 
 In silence, while she watch 'd their arms far-off 
 Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs. 
 Then to her tower she climb 'd, and took the 
 
 ^ shield. 
 There kept it, and so lived in fantasy. 
 
 , Meanwhile the new companions past away 
 Far o'er the long backs of the bushless downs. 
 To where Sir Lancelot kne.w there lived a 
 knight 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 195 
 
 Not far from Camelot, now for forty years 
 A hermit, who had pray'd, labor 'd and pray'd, 
 And ever laboring had scoop 'd himself 
 In the white rock a chapel and a hall 
 On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave, 
 And cells and chambers: all were fair and drj^; 
 The green light from the meadows under- 
 neath 
 Struck up and lived along the milky roofs, 
 And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees 
 And poplars made a noise of falling showers. 
 And thither wending there that night they 
 bode. 
 
 But when the next day broke from under- 
 ground, 
 And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave. 
 They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode 
 
 away: 
 Then Lancelot saying, "Hear, but hold my 
 
 name 
 Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake," 
 Abash'd Lavaine, whose instant reverence, 
 Dearer to true young hearts than their own 
 
 praise. 
 But left him leave to stammer, "Is it, in- 
 deed?" 
 And after muttering "The great Lancelot," 
 At last he got his breath and answered, "One, 
 One have I seen — that other, our liege lord. 
 The dread Pendragon, Britain's King of kings, 
 Of whom the people talk mysteriously. 
 He will be there — ^.then were I stricken blind 
 That minute, I might say that I had seen." 
 
196 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 So spake Lavaine, and when they reach 'd 
 the lists 
 By Camelot in the meadow, let his eyes 
 Run thro' the peopled gallery which half round 
 Lay like a rainbow fall'n upon the grass, 
 Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat 
 Robed in red samite, easily to be known. 
 Since to his crown the golden dragon clung, 
 And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold, 
 And from the carven-work behind him crept 
 Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make 
 Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them 
 Thro' knots and loops and folds innumerable 
 Fled ever thro' the woodwork, till they found 
 The new design wherein they lost themselves, 
 Yet with all ease, so tender was the work : 
 And, in the costly canopy o'er him set. 
 Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king. 
 
 Then Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine and 
 
 said, 
 *'Me you call great: mine is the firmer seat, 
 The truer lance : but there is many a youth 
 Now crescent, who will come to all I am 
 And overcome it; And in me there dwells 
 No greatness, save it be some far-off touch 
 Of greatness to know well I am not great : 
 There is the man." And Lavaine gaped upon 
 
 him 
 As on a thing miraculous, and anon 
 The trumpets blew ; and then did either side. 
 They that assail'd and they that held the lists, 
 Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move. 
 Meet in the midst, and there so furiously 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 197 
 
 Shock, that a man far-off might well perceive, 
 
 If any man that day were left afield. 
 
 The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of 
 
 arms. 
 And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw 
 Which were the weaker; then he hurl'd into it 
 Against the stronger: little need to speak 
 Of Lancelot in his glory! King, duke, earl, 
 Count, baron — whom he smote, he overthrew. 
 
 But in the field were Lancelot's kith and kin. 
 Ranged with the Table Round that held the 
 
 lists. 
 Strong men, and wrathful that a stranger 
 
 knight 
 Should do and almost overdo the deeds 
 Of Lancelot; and one said to the other, "Lo! 
 What is he? I do not mean the force alone — 
 The grace and versatility of ,the man ! 
 Is it not Lancelot?" "When has Lancelot worn 
 Favor of any lady in the lists? 
 Not such his wont, as we, that know him, 
 
 know. ' * 
 *'How then? who then?" a fury seized them all, 
 A fiery family passion for the name 
 Of Lancelot, and a glory one with theirs. 
 They couch'd their spears and prick 'd their 
 
 steeds, and thus. 
 Their plumes driv'n backward by the wind 
 
 they made 
 In moving, all together down upon him 
 Bare, as a wild wave in the wide North-sea, 
 Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, 
 
 with all 
 
198 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, 
 Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, 
 And him that helms it, so they overbore 
 Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear 
 Down-glancing lamed the charger, and a spear 
 Prick 'd sharply his own cuirass, and the head 
 P'erced thro' his side, and there snapt, and 
 remain 'd. 
 
 Then Sir Lavaine did well and worshipfully ; 
 He bore a knight of old repute to the earth. 
 And brought his horse to Lancelot where he 
 
 lay. 
 He up the side, sweating with agony, got, 
 But thought to do while he might yet endure, 
 And being lustly holpen by the rest, 
 His party, — tho' it seem'd half-miracle 
 To those he fought with, — drave his kith and 
 
 kin. 
 And all the Table Round that held the lists. 
 Back to the barrier; then the trumpets blew 
 Proclaiming his the prize, who w^ore the sleeve 
 Of scarlet, and the pearls; and all the knights. 
 His party, cried "Advance and take thy prize 
 Tlie diamond;" but he answer'd "Diamond 
 
 me 
 *No diamonds! for God's love, a little air! 
 Prize me no prizes, for my prize is death ! 
 Hence willT, and I charge you, follow me not. " 
 
 He spoke, and vanish'd suddenly from the 
 field 
 With young Lavaine into the poplar grove. 
 There from his charger down he slid, and sat, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 199 
 
 Gasping to Sir Lavaine, "Draw the lance- 
 head;" 
 *' Ah my sweet lord Sir Lancelot, ' ' said Lavaine, 
 *'I dread me, if I draw it, you will die." 
 Dut he, "I die already with it: draw — 
 Draw," — and Lavaine drew, and Sir Lancelot 
 
 gave 
 A marvelous great shriek and ghastly groan, 
 And half his blood burst forth, and down he 
 
 sank 
 For the pure pain, and wholly swoon 'd away. 
 Then came the hermit out and bare him in. 
 There stanch'd his wotmd; and there, in daily 
 
 doubt 
 Whether to live or die, for many a week 
 Hid from the wide world's rumour by the grove 
 Of poplars with their noise of falling showers, 
 And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he lay. 
 
 But on that day when Lancelot fled the lists^ 
 His party, knights of utmost North and West, 
 Lords of waste marches, kings of desolate isles. 
 Came round their great Pendragon, saying to 
 
 him, 
 *'Lo, Sir, our knight, thro' whom we won th6 
 
 day, 
 Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left hi's 
 
 prize 
 Untaken, crying that his prize is death." 
 *' Heaven hinder," said the King, "that such 
 
 an one. 
 So great a knight as we have seen to-da}^ — 
 He seem'd to me another Lancelot — 
 Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot — 
 
200 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 He must not pass uncared for. Wherefore, 
 rise, 
 
 Gawain, and ride forth and find the knight. 
 Wounded and wearied needs must he be near. 
 
 1 charge you that you get at once to horse. 
 And, knights and kings, there breathes not 
 
 one of you 
 Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given: 
 His prowess was too wonderous. We will do 
 
 him 
 No customary honour: since the knight 
 Came not to us, of us to claim the prize, 
 Ourselves will send it after. Rise and take 
 This diamond, and deliver it, and return. 
 And bring us where he is, and how he fares, 
 And cease not from your quest until ye find.'* 
 
 So saying, from the carvan flower above, 
 To which it made a restless heart, he took, 
 And gave, the diamond : then from where he 
 
 sat 
 At Arthur's right, with smiling face arose. 
 With smiling face and frowning heart, a Prince 
 In the mid might and flourish of his May, 
 Gawain, surnamed The Courteous, fair and 
 
 strong, 
 And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Geraint 
 And Gareth, a good knight, but therewithal 
 Sir Modred's brother, and the child of Lot, 
 Nor often loyal to his word, and now 
 Wroth that the King's command to sally forth 
 In quest of whom he knew not, made him leave 
 The banquet, and concourse of knights and 
 
 kings. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 201 
 
 So all in Vv-rath he got to horse and went ; 
 While Arthur to the banquet, dark and mood, 
 Past, thinking "Is it Lancelot who hath come 
 Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain 
 Of glory, and hath added wound to wound, 
 And ridd'n away to die?" So fear'd the King, 
 And, after two days' s tarriance there, return'd. 
 Then when he saw the Queen, embracing ask'd, 
 *'Love, are you yet so sick?" "Nay, lord," 
 
 she said. 
 "And where is Lancelot?" Then the Queen 
 
 amazed, 
 *'Was he not with you? won he not your prize?" 
 "Nay, but one like him. " " Why that like was 
 
 he." 
 And when the King demanded how she knew, 
 Said, "Lord, no sooner had ye parted from us, 
 Than Lancelot told me of a common talk 
 That men went down before his spear at a 
 
 touch. 
 But knowing he was Lancelot ; his great name 
 Conquer'd; and therefore would he hide his 
 
 name 
 From all men, ev'n the King, and to this end 
 Had made the pretext of a hindering wound. 
 That he might joust unknown of all, and learn 
 If his old prowess were in aught decay'd; 
 And added, 'Our true Arthur, when he learns, 
 Will well allow my pretext, as for gain 
 Of purer glory.' " 
 
 Then replied the King: 
 "Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been) 
 In lieu of idly dallying with the truth, 
 
 U Idylls 
 
202 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 To have trusted me as he hath trusted thee. 
 
 Surely his King and most familiar friend 
 
 Might well have kept his secret. True, indeed, 
 
 Albeit I know my knights fantastical, 
 
 So fine a fear in our large Lancelot 
 
 Must needs have moved my laughter: now 
 
 • rem.ains 
 But little cause for laughter: his own kin — 
 111 news, my Queen, for all who love him, 
 
 this!— 
 His kith and kin, not knowing, set upon him 
 So that he went sore wounded from the field : 
 Yet good news too : for goodly hopes are mine 
 That Lancelot is no more a lonely heart. 
 He wore, against his wont, upon his helm 
 A sleeve of scarlet, broider'd with great pearls, 
 Some gentle maiden's gift." 
 
 "Yea, lord," she said, 
 "Thy hopes are mine," and saying that, she 
 
 choked 
 And sharply turn'd about to hide her face, 
 Past to her chamber, and there flung herself 
 Down on the great King's couch, and writhed 
 
 upon it, 
 And clench'd her fingers till they bit the palm, 
 And shriek'd out, "Traitor," to the unhearing 
 
 wall, 
 Then flash 'd into wild tears, and rose again, 
 And moved about her palace, proud and pale. 
 
 Gawain the while thro' all the region round 
 Rode with his diamond, wearied of the quest, 
 Touch 'd at all points, except the poplar grove. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 203 
 
 And came at last, tho' late, to Astolat: 
 Whom glittering- in enamell'd arms the maid 
 Glanced at, and cried, '*What news from 
 
 Camelot, lord? 
 What of the knight with the red sleeve?" "He 
 
 won. ' ' 
 *'I knew it," she said. *'But parted from the 
 
 jousts 
 Hurt in the side," whereat she caught her 
 
 breath ; 
 Thro' her own side she felt the sharp lance go; 
 Thereon she smote her hand: wellnigh she 
 
 swoon 'd: 
 And, while he gazed wonderingly at her, came 
 The Lord of Astolat out, to whom the Prince 
 Reported who he was, and on what quest 
 Sent, that he bore the prize and could not find 
 The victor, but had ridd'n a random round 
 To seek him, and had wearied of the search. 
 To whom the Lord of Astolat, "Bide with us. 
 And ride no more at random, noble Prince! 
 Here was the knight, and here he left a shield ; 
 This will he send or come for : furthermore 
 Our son is with him ; we shall hear anon, 
 Needs must we hear." To this the courteous 
 
 Prince 
 Accorded with his wonted courtesy. 
 Courtesy with a touch of traitor in it, 
 And stay'd; and cast his eyes on fair Elaine: 
 Where could be found face daintier? then her 
 
 shape 
 From forehead down to foot, perfect — again 
 From foot to forehead exquisitely turn'd: 
 "Well — if I bide, lo! this wild flower for me!" 
 
204 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And oft they met among the garden yews, 
 And there he set himself to play upon her 
 With sallying wit, free flashes from a height 
 Above her, graces of the court, and songs, 
 Sighs, and slow smiles, and golden eloquence 
 And amorous adultation, till the maid 
 Rebell'd against it, saying to him, "Prince, 
 O loyal nephew of our noble King, 
 Why ask you not to see the shield he left. 
 Whence you might learn his name? Why slight 
 
 your King, 
 And lose the quest he sent you on, and prove 
 No surer than our falcon yesterday. 
 Who lost the hern we slipt her at, and went 
 To all the winds?" "Nay, by mine head," 
 
 said he, 
 "I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven, 
 O damsel, in the light of your blue eyes ; 
 But an ye will it let me see the shield. ' ' 
 And when the shield was brought, and Gawain 
 
 saw 
 Sir Lancelot's azure lions, crown 'd with gold, 
 Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh, and 
 
 mock'd: 
 ** Right was the King! our Lancelot! that true 
 
 man ! ' ' 
 "And right was I," she answer'd merrily, "I, 
 Who dream 'd my knight the greatest knight 
 
 of all." 
 *'Andif I dream 'd," said Gawain, "that you 
 
 love 
 This greatest knight, your pardon ! lo, ye know 
 
 it! 
 Speak therefore : shall I waste myself in vain?" 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 205 
 
 Full simple was her answer, "What know I? 
 My brethren have been all my fellowship ; 
 And I, when often they have talk'd of love, 
 Wish'd it had been my mother, for they talk'd, 
 Meseem'd, of what they knew not; so myself — 
 I know not if I know what true love is, 
 But if I know, then, if I love not him, 
 I know there is none other I can love." 
 *'Yea, by God's death," said he, "ye love him 
 
 well, 
 But would not, knew ye what all others know. 
 And whom he loves." "So be it," cried 
 
 Elaine, 
 And lifted her fair face and moved away : 
 But he pursued her, calling, "Stay a little! 
 One golden minute's grace! he wore your 
 
 sleeve : 
 Would he break faith with one I may not name? 
 Must our true man change like a leaf at 
 
 last? 
 Nay — like enow : why then, far be it from me 
 To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves! 
 And, damsel, for I deem you know full well 
 Where your great knight is hidden, let me 
 
 leave 
 My quest with you ; the diamond also : here ! 
 For if you love, it will be sweet to give it ; 
 And if he love, it will be sweet to have it 
 From your own hand ; and whether he love or 
 
 not, 
 A diamond is a diamond. Fare you well 
 A thousand times ! — a thousand times farewell I 
 Yet, if he love, and his love hold, we two 
 May meet at court hereafter: there, I think. 
 
206 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 So ye will learn the courtesies of the court, 
 We two shall know each other." 
 
 Then he gave. 
 And slightly kiss 'd the hand to which he gave. 
 The diamond, and all wearied of the quest 
 Leapt on his horse, and carolling as he went 
 A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. 
 
 Thence to the court he past ; there told the 
 
 King 
 What the King knew, "Sir Lancelot is the 
 
 knight." 
 And added, "Sire, my liege, so much I learnt; 
 But faird to find hi.m, tho' I rode all round 
 The region : but I lighted on the maid 
 Whose sleeve he wore ; she loves him ; and to 
 
 her. 
 Deeming our courtesy is the truest law, 
 I gave the diamond: she will render it; 
 For by mine head she knows his hiding-place. *' 
 
 "The seldom-frowning King frown 'd, and 
 replied, 
 "Too courteously truly! ye shall go no more 
 On quest of mine, seeing that ye forget 
 Obedience is the courtesy due to kings." 
 
 He spake and parted. Wroth, but all in awe. 
 For twenty strokes of the blood, without a 
 
 word. 
 Linger 'd that other, staring after him; 
 Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd 
 
 abroad 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 207 
 
 About the maid of Astolat, and her love. 
 
 All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were 
 
 loosed : 
 *'The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, 
 Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat. " 
 Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, 
 
 and all 
 Had marvel what the maid might be, but most 
 Predooom'd her as unworthy. One old dame 
 Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp 
 
 news. 
 She, that had heard the noise of it before, 
 But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop'd so 
 
 low. 
 Marr'd her friend's aim with pale tranquillity. 
 So ran the tale like fire about the court. 
 Fire in a dry stubble a nine-days' wonder 
 
 flared: 
 Till ev'n the kinghts at banquet twice or thrice 
 Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen, 
 And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid 
 Smiled at each other, while the Queen, who sat 
 With lips severely placid, felt the knot 
 Climb in her throat, and with her feet unseen 
 Crush 'd the wild passion out against the floor 
 Beneath the banquet, where the meats became 
 As wormwood, and she hated all who pledged. 
 
 But far away the maid in Astolat, 
 Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept 
 The one-day seen Sir Lancelot in her heart, 
 Crept to her father, while he mused alone, 
 Sat on his knee, stroked his gray face, and said, 
 *' Father, you call me wilful, and the fault 
 
208 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Is yours who let me have my will, and now, 
 Sweet father, will you let me loose my wits?" 
 "Nay," said he, "surely. " "Wherefore, let 
 
 me hence," 
 Sheanswer'd, "and find out our dear Lavaine. " 
 "Ye will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine: 
 Bide," answered he: "we needs must hear 
 
 anon 
 Of him, and of that other." "Ay," she said, 
 "And of that other, for I needs must hence 
 And find that other, whersoe'er he be. 
 And with mine own hand give his diamond to 
 
 him, 
 Lest I be found as faithless in the quest 
 As yon proud Prince who left the quest to 
 
 me. 
 Sweet father, I behold him in my dreams 
 Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself. 
 Death- pale, for lack of gentle maiden's aid. 
 The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound, 
 My father, to be sweet and serviceable 
 To noble knights in sickness, as ye know 
 When these have worn their tokens: let me 
 
 hence 
 I pray you. ' ' Then her father nodding said, 
 "Ay, ay, the diamond: wit ye well, my child, 
 Right fain were I to learn this knight were 
 
 whole. 
 Being our greatest : yea, and you must give 
 
 it— 
 And sure I think this fruit is hung too high 
 For any mouth to gape for save a queen's — 
 Nay, I mean nothing: so then, get you gone. 
 Being so very wilful you must go. " 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 209 
 
 Lightly, her suit allow'd, she slipt away, 
 And while she made her ready for her ride, 
 Her father's latest words humm'd in her ear, 
 "Being so very wilful you must go," 
 And changed itself and echo'd in her heart, 
 "Being so very wilful you must die." 
 But she was happy enough and shook it off, 
 As we shake off the bee that buzzes at us; 
 And in her heart she answer 'd it and said, 
 "What matter, so I help him back to life?" 
 Then far away with good Sir Torre for guide 
 Rodeo'er the long backs of the bushless downs 
 To Camelot, and before the city-gates 
 Came on her brother with a happy face 
 Making a roan horse caper and curvet 
 For pleasure all about a field of flowers : 
 Whom when she saw, "Lavaine," she cried, 
 
 "Lavaine, 
 How fares my lord Sir Lancelot?" He amazed, 
 "Torre and Elaine! why here? Sir Lancelot! 
 How know ye my lord's name is Lancelot?" 
 But when the maid had told him all her tale. 
 Then turn'd Sir Torre, and being in his moods 
 Left them, and under the strange-statuedgate. 
 Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically. 
 Past up the still rich city to his kin, 
 His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot; 
 And her, Lavaine across the poplar grove 
 Led to the caves : there first she saw the casque 
 Of Lancelot on the wall : her scarlet sleeve, 
 Tho' carved and cut, and half the pearls away, 
 Stream'd from it still; and in her heart she 
 
 laugh'd, 
 Because he had not loosed it from his helm, 
 u 
 
210 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But meant once more perchance to tourney in it. 
 And when they gain'd the cell wherein he 
 
 slept, 
 His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands 
 Lay naked on the wolfskin, and a dream 
 Of dragging down his enemy made them move. 
 Then she that saw him lying unsleek, unshorn, 
 Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself, 
 Utter'd a little tender dolorous cry. 
 The sound not wonted in a place so still 
 Woke the sick knight, and while he roll'd his 
 
 eyes 
 Yet blank from sleep, she started to him, 
 
 saying, 
 *'Yotir prize the diamond sent you by the 
 
 King:"- 
 His eyes glisten'd: she fancied "Is it for me?" 
 And when the maid had told him all the tale 
 Of King and Prince, the diamond sent, the 
 
 quest 
 Assign'd to her not worthy of it, she knelt 
 Full lowly by the corners of his bed. 
 And laid the diamond in his open hand. 
 Her face was near, and as we kiss the child 
 That does the task assign'd, he kiss'd her face. 
 At once she slipt like water to the floor. 
 *'Alas, " he said, "your ride hath wearied you. 
 Rest must you have." "No rest for me," she 
 
 said; 
 "Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest." 
 What might she mean by this? his large black 
 
 eyes, 
 Yet larger thro' his leanness, dwelt upon her, 
 Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 2U 
 
 In the heart's colors on her simple face; 
 And Lancelot look'd and was perplextin mind, 
 And being weak in body said no more ; 
 But did not love the color; woman's love, 
 Save one, he not regarded, and so turn'd 
 Sighing, and feign 'd a sleep until he slept. 
 
 Then rose Elaine and glided thro' the fields, 
 And past beneath the weirdly-sculptured gates 
 Far up the dim rich city to her kin ; 
 There bode the night: but woke with dawn, 
 
 and past 
 Down thro' the dim rich city to the fields, 
 Thence to the cave : so day by day she past 
 In either twilight ghost-like to and fro 
 Gliding, and every day she tended him, 
 And likewise many a night: and Lancelot 
 Would, tho' he call'd his wound a little hurt 
 Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times 
 Brain- feverous in his heat and agony, seem 
 TJncourteous, even he : but the meek maid 
 Sweetly forbore him ever, being to him 
 Meeker than any child to a rough nurse, 
 Milder than any mother to a sick child, 
 And never woman yet, since man's first fall. 
 Did kindlier unto man, but her deep love 
 "Upbore her; till the hermit, skill'd in all 
 The simples and the science of that time, 
 Told him that her fine care had saved his life. 
 And the sick man forgot her simple blush, 
 Would call her friend and sister, sweet Elaine, 
 Would listen for her coming and regret 
 Her parting step, and held her tenderly. 
 And loved her with all love except the love 
 
212 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Of man and woman when they love their best, 
 Closest and sweetest, and had died the death 
 In any knightly fashion for her sake. 
 And peradventure had he seen her first 
 She might have made this and that other world 
 Another world for the sick man; but now 
 The shackles of an old love straiten'd him, 
 His honour rooted in dishonour stood, 
 And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. 
 
 Yet the great knight in his mid-sickness made 
 Full many a holy vow and pure resolve. 
 These, as but born of sickness, could not live: 
 For when the blood ran lustier in him again, 
 Full often the bright image of one face, 
 Making a treacherous quiet in his heart. 
 Dispersed his resolution like a cloud. 
 Then if the maiden, while that ghostly grace 
 Beam'd on his fancy, spoke, he answer'd not. 
 Or short and coldly, and she knew right well 
 What the rough sickness meant, but what this 
 
 meant 
 She knew not, and the sorrow dimm'd her 
 
 sight. 
 And drave her ere her time across the fields 
 Far into the rich city, where alone 
 She murmur'd, '*Vain, in vain: it cannot be. 
 He will not love me: how then? must I die?" 
 Then as a little helpless innocent bird. 
 That has but one plain passage of few notes. 
 Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er 
 For all an April morning, till the ear 
 Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid 
 Went half the night repeating, "Must I die?'' 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 213 
 
 And now to right she turn'd, and now to left, 
 
 And found no ease in turning or in rest ; 
 
 And "Him or death," she murmur 'd, "death 
 
 or him," 
 Again and like a burthen, "Him or death." 
 
 But when Sir Lancelot's deadly hurt was 
 
 whole, 
 To Astolat returning rode the three. 
 There morn by morn, arraying her sweet self 
 In that wherein she deem'd she look'd her best, 
 She came before Sir Lancelot, for she thought 
 *'If I be loved, these are my festal robes. 
 If not, the victim's flowers before me fall." 
 And Lancelot ever prest upon the maid 
 That she should ask some goodly gift of him 
 For her own self or hers: "and do not shun 
 To speak the wish most near to your true 
 
 heart ; 
 Such service have ye done me, that I make 
 My will of yours, and Prince and Lord am I 
 In mine own land, and what I will I can." 
 Then like a ghost she lifted up her face. 
 But like a ghost without the power to speak. 
 And Lancelot saw that she withheld her 
 
 wish, 
 And bode among them yet a little space 
 Till he should learn it; and one morn it 
 
 chanced 
 He found her in among the garden yews. 
 And said, "Delay no longer, speak your wish, 
 Seeing I go to-day : ' ' then out she brake : 
 "Going? and we shall never see you more. 
 And I must die for want of one bold word." 
 
214 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 "Speak: that I live to hear," he said, '*is 
 
 yours." 
 Then suddenly and passionately she spoke : 
 "I have gone mad. I love you: let me die." 
 *'Ah, sister," answer 'd Lancelot, "what is 
 
 this?" 
 And innocently extending her white arms, 
 "Your love," she said, "your love — to be vour 
 
 wife." 
 And Lancelot answer 'd, "Had I chosen towed^ 
 I had been wedded earlier, sweet Elaine : 
 But now there never will be wife of mine. " 
 "No, no," she cried, "I care not to be wife. 
 But to be with you still, to see your face, 
 To serve you and to follow you thro' the 
 
 world. ' ' 
 And Lancelot answer'd, "Nay, the world, the 
 
 world. 
 All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart 
 To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue 
 To blare its own interpretation — nay. 
 Full ill then should I quit your brother's love, 
 And your. good father's kindness." And she 
 
 said, 
 "Not to be with you, not to see your face — 
 Alas for me then, my good days are done. 
 "Nay, noble maid, " he answer'd, "ten times 
 
 nay! 
 This is not love: but love's first flash in youth. 
 Most common: yea, I know it of mine own 
 
 salf: 
 And you yourself will smile at your own self 
 Hereafter, when you yield your flower of life 
 To one more fitly yours, not thrice your age: 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 215 
 
 And then will I, for true you are and sweet 
 
 Beyond mine old belief in womanhood, 
 
 More specially should your good knight be 
 
 poor, 
 Endow you with broad land and territory 
 Even to the half my realm beyond the seas, 
 So that would make you happy: furthermore, 
 Ev'n to the death, as tho' ye were my blood. 
 In all your quarrels will I be your knight. 
 This will I do, dear damsel, for your sake, 
 And more than this I cannot." 
 
 While he spoke 
 She neither blush'd nor shook, but deathly pale 
 Stood grasping what was nearest, then replied: 
 "Of all this will I nothing;" and so fell. 
 And thus they bore her swooning to her tower. 
 
 Then spake, to whom thro' those black walls 
 of yew 
 Their talk had pierced, her father: "Ay, a 
 
 flash, 
 I fear me, that will strike my blossom dead. 
 Too courteous are ye, fair Lord Lancelot. 
 I pray you, use some rough discourtesy 
 To blunt or break her passion." 
 
 Lancelot said, 
 "That were against me: what I can I will;" 
 And there that day remain'd, and toward even 
 Sent for his shield : full meekly rose the maid, 
 Stript off the case, and gave the naked shield ; 
 Then, when she heard his horse upon the 
 
 stones, 
 Unclasping flung the casement back, and look'd 
 
216 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Down on his helm, from which her sleeve had 
 
 gone. 
 And Lancelot knew the little clinking sound; 
 And she by tact of love was well aware 
 Then Lancelot knew that she was looking at 
 
 him. 
 And yet he glanced not up, nor waved his 
 
 hand. 
 Nor bade farewell, but sadly rode away. 
 This was the one discourtesy that he used. 
 
 So in her tower alone the maiden sat : 
 His very shield was gone ; only the case, 
 Her own poor work, her empty labor, left. 
 But still she heard him, still his picture form'd 
 And grew between her and the pictured wall. 
 Then came her father, saying in low tones, 
 "Have comfort," whom she greeted quietly. 
 Then came her brethren saying, *' Peace to 
 
 thee, 
 Sweet sister," whom she answer 'd with all 
 
 calm. 
 But when they left her to herself again, 
 Death, like a friend's voice from a distant field 
 Approaching thro' the darkness, call'd; the 
 
 owls 
 Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt 
 Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms 
 Of evening and the moanings of the wind. 
 
 And in those days she made a little song, 
 And call'd her song "The Song of Love and 
 
 Death," 
 And sang it : sweetly could she make and sing. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 217 
 
 '* 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. 
 
 *'Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death 
 must be: 
 Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me. 
 O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. 
 
 "Sweet love, that seems not made to fade 
 
 away, 
 Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless 
 
 clay, 
 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. ' ' 
 
 High with the last line scaled her voice, and 
 
 this. 
 All in a fiery dawning wild with wind 
 That shook her tower, the brothers heard, and 
 
 thought 
 With shuddering, "Hark the Phantom of the 
 
 house 
 That ever shrieks before a death," and call'd 
 The father, and all three in hurry and fear 
 Ran to her, and lo! the blood-red light of dawn 
 Flared on her face, she shrilling, "Let me 
 
 die!" 
 
218 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 As when we dwell upon a word we know, 
 Repeating, till the word we know so well 
 Becomes a wonder, and we know not why, 
 So dwelt the father on her face, and thought 
 "Is this Elaine?" till back the maiden fell, 
 Then gave a languid hand to each, and lay. 
 Speaking a still good-morrow with her eyes. 
 At last she said, ''Sweet brothers, yesternight 
 I seem'd a curious little maid again. 
 As happy as when we dwelt among the woods, 
 And when ye used to take me with the flood 
 Up the great river in the boatman's boat. 
 Only ye would not pass beyond the cape 
 That has the poplar on it : there ye fixt 
 Your limit, oft returning with the tide. 
 And yet I cried because ye would not pass 
 Beyond it, and far up the shining flood 
 Until we found the palace of the King. 
 And yet ye would not ; but this night I dream'cj 
 That I was all alone upon the flood, 
 And then I said, 'Now shall I have my will:' 
 And there I woke, but still the wish remain'd. 
 So let me hence that I may pass at last 
 Beyond the poplar and far up the flood. 
 Until I find the palace of the King. 
 There will I enter in among them all. 
 And no man there will dare to mock at me : 
 But there the fine Gawain will wonder at me, 
 And there the great Sir Lancelot muse at^ 
 
 me; 
 Gawain, who bade a thousand farewells to me, 
 Lancelot, who coldly went, nor bade me one : 
 And there the King will know me and my love, 
 And there the Queen herself will pity me, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 219 
 
 And all the gentle court will welcome me, 
 And after my long voyage I shall rest!" 
 
 *' Peace," said her father, "O my child, ye 
 
 seem 
 Light-headed, for what force is yours to go 
 So far, being sick? and wherefore would ye 
 
 look 
 On this proud fellow again, who scorns us all?" 
 
 Then the rough Torre began to heave and 
 move 
 And bluster into stormy sobs and say, - 
 *'I never loved him: an I meet with him, 
 I care not howsoever great he be. 
 Then will I strike at him and strike him down, 
 Give me good fortune, I will strike him dead, 
 For this discomfort he hath done the house. ' ' 
 
 To whom the gentle sister made reply, 
 *'Fret not yourself, dear brother, nor be wroth, 
 Seeing it is no more Sir Lancelot's fault 
 Not to love me, than it is mine to love 
 Him of all men who seems to me the highest. " 
 
 "Highest?" the father answer'd, echoing 
 ^'highest?" 
 (He meant to break the passion in her) "nay, 
 Daughter, I know not what you call the high- 
 est; 
 But this I know, for all the people know it. 
 He loves the Queen, and in an open shame: 
 And she returns his love in open shame ; 
 If this be high, what is it to be low?" 
 
220 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then spake the lily maid of Astolat : 
 *' Sweet father, all too faint and sick am I 
 For anger : these are slanders : never yet 
 Was noble man but made ignoble talk. 
 He makes no friend who never made a foe. 
 But now it is my glory to have loved 
 One peerless, without stain : so let me pass, 
 My father, how^soe'er I seem to you, 
 Not all unhappy, having loved God's best 
 And greatest, tho' my love had no return: 
 Yet, seeing you desire your child to live, 
 Thanks, but you work against your own desire ; 
 For if I could believe the things you say 
 I should but die the sooner; wherefore cease, 
 Sweet father, and bid call the ghostly man 
 Hither, and let me shrive me clean, and die.'* 
 
 So when the ghostly man had come and gone, 
 She, with a face bright as for sin forgiven, 
 Besought Lavaine to write as she devised 
 A letter, word for word; and when he ask'd 
 "Is it for Lancelot, is it for my dear lord? 
 Then will I bear it gladly;" she replied, 
 **For Lancelot and the Queen and all the 
 
 world, 
 But I myself must bear it. " Then he v/rote 
 The letter she devised ; which being writ 
 And folded, *'0 sweet father, tender and true. 
 Deny me not," she said — "ye never yet 
 Denied my fancies — this, however strange. 
 My latest: lay the letter in my hand 
 A little ere I die, and close the hand 
 Upon it ; I shall guard it even in death. 
 And when the heat is gone from out my heart 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 221 
 
 Then take the little bed on which I died 
 
 For Lancelot's love, and deck it like the 
 
 Queen's 
 For richness, and me also like the Queen 
 In all I have of rich, and lay me on it. 
 And let there be prepared a chariot-bier 
 To take me to the river, and a barge 
 Be ready on the river, clothed in black. 
 I go in state to court to meet the Queen. 
 There surely I shall speak for mine own self. 
 And none of you can speak for me so well. 
 And therefore let our dumb old man alone 
 Go with me, he can steer and row, and he 
 Will guide me to that palace, to the doors. " 
 
 She ceased : her father promised ; whereupon 
 She grew so cheerful that they deem'd her 
 
 death 
 Was rather in the fantasy than the blood. 
 But ten slow mornings past, and on the elev- 
 enth 
 Her father laid the letter in her hand. 
 And closed the hand upon it, and she died. 
 So that day there was dole in Astolat. 
 
 But when the next sun brake from under- 
 ground. 
 Then, those two brethren slowly with bent 
 
 brows 
 Accompanying, the sad chariot-bier 
 Past like a shadow thro' the field, that shone 
 Full-summer, to that stream whereon the 
 
 barge, 
 Pall'd all its length in blackest samite, lay. 
 
222 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 There sat tkp. lifelong creature of the house. 
 Loyal, the' dumb old servitor, on deck, 
 Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face. 
 So those two brethren from the chariot took 
 And on the black decks laid her in her bed, 
 Set in her hand a lily, o'er her hung 
 The silken case with braided blazonings, 
 And kiss'd her quiet brows, and saying to het 
 ' ' Sister, farewell for ever, ' * and again 
 ''Farewell, sweet sister," parted all in tears. 
 Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the 
 
 dead, 
 Oar'd by the dumb, went upward with the 
 
 flood- 
 In her right hand the lily, in her left 
 The letter — all her bright hair streaming 
 
 down — 
 And all the coverlid was cloth of gold 
 Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white 
 All but her face, and that clear-featured face 
 Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead, 
 But fast asleep, and lay as tho' she smiled. 
 
 That day Sir Lancelot at the palace craved 
 Audience of Guinevere, to give at last 
 The price of half a realm, his costly gift. 
 Hard-won and hardly won with bruise and 
 
 blow, 
 With deaths of others, and almost his own, 
 The nine-years-fought-for diamonds: for he 
 
 saw 
 One of her house, and sent him to the Queen 
 Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen agreed 
 With such and so unmoved a majesty 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 223 
 
 She might have seem'd her statue, but that 
 
 he, 
 Low-dropping till he well-nigh kiss'd her feet 
 For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong eye 
 The shadow of some piece of pointed lace, 
 In the Queen's shadow, vibrate on the walls^ 
 And parted, laughing in his courtly heart. 
 
 All in an oriel on the summer side, 
 Vine-clad, of Arthur's palace toward the 
 
 stream, 
 They met, and Lancelot kneeling utter'd^ 
 
 ''Queen, 
 Lady, my liege, in whom I have my joy, 
 Take, what I had not won except for you. 
 These jewels, and make me happy, making 
 
 them 
 An armlet for the roundest arm on earth. 
 Or necklace for a neck to which the swan's 
 Is tawnier than her cygnet's: these are 
 
 words : 
 Your beauty is your beauty, and I sin 
 In speaking, yet O grant my worship of it 
 Words, as we g^rant g-rief tears. Such sin in 
 
 words, 
 Perchance, we both can pardon: but, my 
 
 Queen, 
 I hear of rumors flying thro' your court. 
 Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife, 
 Should have in it an absoluter trust 
 To make up that defect: let rumors be: 
 When did not rumors fly? these, as I trust 
 That you trust me in your own nobleness, 
 I may not well believe that you believe." 
 
224 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 While thus he spoke, half-turn'd away, the 
 
 Queen 
 Brake from the vast oriel-embowering vine 
 Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast them off. 
 Till all the place whereon she stood was green ; 
 Then, when he ceased, in one cold passive 
 
 hand 
 Received at once and laid aside the gems 
 There on a table near her, and replied : 
 
 **It may be, I am quicker of belief 
 Than you believe me, Lancelot of the Lake. 
 Our bond is not the bond of man and wife. 
 This good is in it, whatsoe'er of ill. 
 It can be broken easier. I for you 
 This many a year have done despite and wrong 
 To one whom ever in my heart of hearts 
 I did acknowledge nobler. What are these? 
 Diamonds for me ! they had been thrice their 
 
 worth 
 Being your gift, had you not lost your own. 
 To loyal hearts the value of all gifts 
 Must vary as the giver's. Not for me! 
 For her! for your new fancy. Only this 
 Grant me, I pray you : have your joys apart. 
 I doubt not that however changed, you keep 
 So much of what is graceful : and myself 
 Would shun to break those bounds of courtesy 
 In which as Arthur's Queen I move and rule: 
 So cannot speak my mind. An end to this: 
 A strange one ! yet I take it with Amen. 
 So pray you, add my diamonds to her pearls ; 
 Deck her with these ; tell her, she shines me 
 down : 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 225 
 
 An armlet for an arm to which the Queen's 
 
 Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck 
 
 O as much fairer — as a faith once fair 
 
 Was richer than these diamonds — hers not 
 
 mine — 
 Nay, by the mother of our Lord himself, 
 Or hers or mine, mine now to work my will — 
 She shall not have them." 
 
 Saying w^hich she seized. 
 And, thro' the casement standing wide for heat, 
 Flung them, and down they flash'd, and smote 
 
 the stream. 
 Then from the smitten surface flash'd, as it 
 
 were, 
 Diamonds to meet them, and they past away. 
 Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disdain 
 At love, life, all things, on the window ledge, 
 Close underneath his eyes, and right across 
 Where these had fallen, slowly past the barge 
 Whereon the lily maid of Astolat 
 Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night. 
 
 But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away 
 To weep and wail in secret ; and the barge, 
 On to the palace-doorway sliding, paused. 
 There two stood arm'd, and kept the door; to" 
 
 whom, 
 All up the marble stair, tier over tier, 
 Where added mouths that gaped, and eyes that 
 
 ask'd 
 *'What is it?" but that oarsman's haggard face, 
 As hard and still as is the face that men 
 Shape to their fancy's eye from broken rocks 
 
 15 Idylls 
 
226 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 On some cliff -side, appall 'd them, and they 
 
 said, 
 "He is enchanted, cannot speak — and she, 
 Look how she sleeps — the Fairy Queen, so fair? 
 Yea, but how pale! what are they? flesh and 
 
 blood? 
 Or come to take the King to Fairyland? 
 For some do hold our Arthur cannot die, 
 But that he passes into Fairyland." 
 
 While thus they babbled of the King, the 
 King 
 Came girt with knights : then turn'd the tongue- 
 less man 
 From the half-face to the full eye, and rose 
 And pointed to the damsel, and the doors. 
 So Arthur bade the meek Sir Percivale 
 And pure Sir Galahad to uplift the maid; 
 And reverently they bore her into hall. 
 Then came the fine Gawain and wonder'd at 
 
 her. 
 And Lancelot later came and mused at her. 
 And last the Queen herself, and pitied her: 
 But Arthur spied the letter in her hand. 
 Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it ; this was 
 all: 
 
 *'Most noble lord. Sir Lancelot of the Lake, 
 I, sometime call'd the maid of Astolat, 
 Come, for you left me taking no farewell, 
 Hither, to take my last farewell of you. 
 I loved you, and my love had no return, 
 And therefore my true love has been my death. 
 And therefore to my Lady Guinevere, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 227 
 
 And to all other ladies, I make moan, 
 Pray for my soul, and yield me burial. 
 Pray for my soul thou, too, Sir Lancelot, 
 As thou art a knight peerless." 
 
 Thus he read ; 
 And ever in the reading, lords and dames 
 Wept, looking often from his face who read 
 To hers which lay so silent, and at times. 
 So touch 'd were they, half -thinking that her 
 
 lips, 
 Who had devised the letter, moved again. 
 
 Then freely spoke Sir Lancelot to them all : 
 "My lord liege Arthur, and all ye that hear, 
 Know that to this most gentle maiden's 
 
 death 
 Right heavy am I ; for good she was and true. 
 But loved me with a love beyond all love 
 In women, whomsoever I have known. 
 Yet to be loved makes not to love again ; 
 Not at my years, however it hold in youth. 
 I swear by truth and knighthood that I gave 
 No cause, not willingly, for such a love : 
 To this I call my friends in testimony, 
 Her brethren, and her father who himself 
 Besought me to be plain and blunt, and use. 
 To break her passion, some discourtesy 
 Against my nature ; what I could, I did. 
 I left her and I bade her no farewell ; 
 Tho*, had I dreamt the damsel would have 
 
 died, 
 I might have put my wits to some rough use, 
 And help'd her from herself." 
 
228 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then said the Queen 
 ( Sea was her wrath, yet working after storm) 
 *'Ye might at least have done her so much 
 
 grace, 
 Fair lord, as would have help'd her from her 
 
 death." 
 He raised his head, their eyes met and hers fell 
 He adding, 
 
 ''Queen, she would not be content 
 Save that I wedded her, which could not be. 
 Then might she follow me thro' che world, she 
 
 ask'd; 
 It could not be. I told her that her love 
 AVas but the flash of youth, would darken down 
 To rise hereafter in a stiller flame 
 Toward one more worthy of her — then would I, 
 More specially were he, she wedded, poor, 
 Estate them with large land and territory 
 In mine own realm bej^ond the narrow seas. 
 To keep them in all joyance : more than this 
 I could not; this she would not, and she died." 
 
 He pausing, Arthur answer'd,"0 my knight, 
 It will be to thy worship, as my knight, 
 And mine, as head of all our Table Round, 
 To see that she be buried worshipfully. " 
 
 So toward that shrine which then in all the 
 realm 
 Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly went 
 The marshall'd Order of their Table Round, 
 And Lancelot, sad beyond his wont, to see 
 The maiden buried, not as one unknown, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 229 
 
 Nor meanly, but with gorgeous obsequies, 
 And mass, and rolling music, like a queen. 
 And when the knights had laid her comely- 
 head 
 Low in the dust of half-forgotten kings, 
 Then Arthur spake among them, "Let her 
 
 tomb 
 Be costly, and her image thereupon. 
 And let the shield of Lancelot at her feet 
 Be carven, and her lily in her hand. 
 And let the story of her dolorous voyage 
 For all true hearts be blazon' d on her tomb 
 In letters gold and azure!" which was wrought 
 Thereafter; but when now the lords and dames 
 And people, from the high door streaming, 
 
 brake 
 Disorderly, as homeward each, the Queen, 
 Who mark'd Sir Lancelot where he moved 
 
 apart, 
 Drew near, and sigh'd in passing, "Lancelot, 
 Forgive me; mine was jealousy in love." 
 He answer'd with his eyes upon the ground, 
 "That is love's curse; pass on, my Queen, 
 
 forgiven. ' ' 
 But Arthur, who beheld his cloudy brows. 
 Approach 'd him, and with full affection said, 
 
 "Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in whom I 
 have 
 Most joy and most affiance, for I know 
 What thou hast been in battle by my side, 
 And many a time have watch'd thee at the tilt 
 Strike down the lusty and long practiced knight. 
 And let the younger and unskill'd go by 
 
230 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 To win his honor and to make his name, 
 And loved thy courtesies and thee, a man 
 Made to be loved ; but now I would to God, 
 Seeing the homeless trouble in thine eyes. 
 Thou couldst have loved this maiden, shaped, 
 
 it seems. 
 By God for thee alone, and from her face. 
 If one may judge the living by the dead. 
 Delicately pure and marvelously fair. 
 Who might have brought thee, now a lonely 
 
 man 
 Wifeless and heirless, noble issue, sons 
 Born to the glory of thy name and fame. 
 My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of the 
 
 Lake." 
 
 Then answer'd Lancelot, "Fair she was, my 
 
 King, 
 Pure, as you ever wish your knights to be. 
 To doubt her fairness were to want an eye. 
 To doubt her pureness were to want a heart 
 Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy love 
 Could bind him, but free love will not be 
 
 bound." 
 
 *'Free love, so bound, were freest," said the 
 King. 
 *'Let love be free; free love is for the best: 
 And, after heaven, on our dull side of death, 
 What should be best, if not so pure a love 
 Clothed in so pure a loveliness? yet thee 
 She fail'd to bind, tho' being, as I think. 
 Unbound as yet, and gentle, as I know." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 231 
 
 And Lancelot answer'd nothing, but he 
 
 went, 
 And at the inrunning of a little brook 
 Sat by the river in a cove, and watch 'd 
 The high reed wave, and lifted up his eyes 
 And saw the barge that brought her moving 
 
 down. 
 Far-off, a blot upon the stream, and said 
 Low in himself, "Ah, simple heart and sweet, 
 Ye loved me, damsel, surely with a love 
 Far tenderer than my Queen's. Pray for thy 
 
 soul? 
 Ay, that will L Farewell too — now at last — 
 Farewell, fair lily. 'Jealousy in love?' 
 Kot rather dead love's harsh heir, jealous 
 
 pride? 
 Queen, if I grant the jealousy as of love, 
 May not your crescent fear for name and fame 
 Speak, as it waxes, of a love that wanes? 
 Why did the King dwell on my name to me? 
 Mine own name shames me, seeming a re- 
 proach, 
 Lancelot, whom the Lady of the Lake 
 Caught from his mother's arms — the wondrous 
 
 one 
 Who passes thro' the vision of the night- 
 She chanted snatches of mysterious hymns 
 Heard on the winding waters, eve and morn 
 She kiss'd me saying, 'Thou art fair, my child, 
 As a king's son,' and often in her arms 
 She bare me, pacing on the dusky mere. 
 Would she had drown'd me in it, where'er it 
 
 be! 
 For what am I? what profits me my name 
 
232 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Of greatest knight? I fought for it, and have 
 
 it: 
 Pleasure to have it, none; to lose it, pain; 
 Now grown a part of me: but what use in it? 
 To make men worse by making my sin known? 
 Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming great? 
 Alas for Arthur's greatest knight, a man 
 Not after Arthur's heart! I needs must break 
 These bonds that so defame me: not without 
 She wills it: would I, if she will'd it? nay. 
 Who knows? but if I would not, then may 
 
 God, 
 I pray him, send a sudden Angel down 
 To seize me by the hair and bear me far. 
 And fling me deep in that forgotten mere, 
 Among the tumbled fragments of the hills." 
 
 So groan 'd Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain. 
 Not knowing he should die a holy man. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 233 
 
 THE HOLY GRAIL. 
 
 From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done 
 
 In tournament or tilt. Sir Percivale, 
 
 Whom Arthur and his knighthood call'd The 
 
 Pure, 
 Had pass'd into the silent life of prayer, 
 Praise, fast, and alms ; and leaving for the cowl 
 The helmet in an abbey far away 
 From Camelot, there, and not long after, died. 
 
 And one, a fellow-monk among the rest, 
 Ambrosius, loved him much beyond the rest. 
 And honour'd him, and w*rought into his heart 
 A way by love that waken 'd love within, 
 To answer that which came : and as they sat 
 Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darkening half 
 The cloisters, on a gustful April morn 
 That puff'd the swaying branches into smoke 
 Above them, ere the summer when he died, 
 The monk Ambrosius question'd Percivale: 
 
 *'0 brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke, 
 Spring after spring, for half a hundred years: 
 For never have I known the world without. 
 Nor ever stray'd beyond the pale: but thee, 
 When first thou camest — such a courtesy 
 Spake thro' the limbs and in the voice — 
 I knew 
 
 16 Idylls 
 
234 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 For one of those who eat in Arthur's hall; 
 For good ye are and bad, and like to coins. 
 Some true, some light, but every one of you 
 Stamp'd with the image of the King; and now 
 Tell me, what drove thee from the Table 
 
 Round, 
 My brother? was it earthly passion crost?" 
 
 "Nay, " said the knight; *'for no such pas- 
 sion mine. 
 But the sweet vision of the Holy Grail 
 Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries, 
 And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out 
 Among us in the jousts, while women watch 
 Who wins, who falls; and waste the spiritual 
 
 strength 
 Within us, better offer 'd up to Heaven." 
 
 To whom the monk: "The Holy Grail!— I 
 trust 
 We are green in Heaven's eyes; but here too 
 
 much 
 We moulder — as to things without I mean — 
 Yet one of your own knights, a guest of ours, 
 Told us of this in our refectory. 
 But spake with such a sadness and so low 
 We heard not half of what he said. What is it? 
 The phantom of a cup that comes and goes?" 
 
 "Nay, monk! what phantom?" answer 'd 
 Percivale. 
 "The cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord 
 Drank at the last sad supper with his own, 
 This, from the blessed land of Aromat-:» 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 235 
 
 After the day of darkness, when the dead 
 Went wandering o'er Moriah — the good saint 
 Arimathaean Joseph, journeying brought 
 To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn 
 Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord. 
 And there awhile it bode ; and if a man 
 Could touch or see it, he was heal'd at once, 
 By faith, of all his ills. But then the times 
 Grew to such evil that the holy cup 
 Was caught away to Heaven, and disappear'd. '* 
 
 To whom the monk: "From our old books I 
 know 
 That Joseph came of old to Glastonbury, 
 And there the heathen Prince, Arviragus, 
 Gave him an isle of marsh whereon to build ; 
 And there he built with wattles from the marsh 
 A little lonely church in days of yore, 
 For so they say, these books of ours, but seem 
 Mute of this miracle, far as I have read. 
 But who first saw the holy thing to-day?" 
 
 *'A woman," answer'd Percivale, *'a nun. 
 And one no further off in blood from me 
 Than sister; and if ever holy maid 
 With knees of adoration wore the stone, 
 A holy maid; tho' never maiden glow'd, 
 But that was in her earlier maidenhood. 
 With such a fervent flame of human love, 
 Which being rudely blunted, glanced and shot 
 Only to holy things ; to prayer and praise 
 She gave herself, to fast and alms. And yet. 
 Nun as she was, the scandal of the Court, 
 Sin against Arthur and the Table Round, 
 
236 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And the strange sound of an adulterous race, 
 
 Across the iron grating of her cell 
 
 Beat, and she pray'd and fasted all the more. 
 
 "And he to whom she told her sins, or what 
 Her all but utter whiteness held for sin, 
 A man well-nigh a hundred winters old, 
 Spake often with her of the Holy Grail, 
 A legend handed down thro' five or six, 
 And each of these a hundred winters old, 
 Frorn our Lord's time. And when King Arthur 
 
 made 
 His Table Round, and all men's hearts became 
 Clean for a season, surely he had thought 
 That now the Holy Grail would come again; 
 But sin broke out. Ah, Christ, that it would 
 
 come. 
 And heal the world of all their wickedness! 
 'O Father!' ask'd the maiden, 'might it come 
 To me by prayer and fasting?' 'Nay,' said he, 
 *I know not, for thy heart is pure as snow.' 
 And so she pray'd and fasted, till the sun 
 Shone, and the wind blew, thro' her, and I 
 
 thought 
 She might have risen and floated when I saw 
 
 her. 
 
 "For on a day she sent to speak with me. 
 And when she came to speak, behold her eyes 
 Beyond my knowing of them, beautiful, 
 Beyond all knowing of them, wonderful. 
 Beautiful in the light of holiness. 
 And 'O my brother Percivale, ' she said, 
 * Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 237 
 
 For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound 
 As of a silver horn from o'er the hills 
 Blown, and I thought, "It is not Arthur's use 
 To hunt by moonlight:" and the slender sound 
 As from a distance beyond distance grew 
 Coming upon me — O never harp nor horn, 
 Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with 
 
 hand. 
 Was like that music as it came ; and then 
 Stream'd thro' my cell a cold and silver beam, 
 And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail, 
 Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive. 
 Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed 
 With rosy colors, leaping on the wall ; 
 And then the music faded, and the Grail 
 Past, and the beam decay 'd, and from the walls 
 The rosy quiverings died into the night. 
 So now the Holy Thing is here again 
 Among us, brother, fast thou too and pray. 
 And tell thy brother knights to fast and pray, 
 That so perchance the vision may be seen 
 By thee and those, and all the world be heal'd. * 
 
 "Then leaving the pale nun, I spake of this 
 To all men; and myself fasted and pray'd 
 Always, and many among us many a week 
 Fasted and pray'd even to the uttermost. 
 Expectant of the wonder that would be. 
 
 "And one there was among us, ever moved 
 Among us in white armor, Galahad, 
 *God make thee good as thou art beautiful,' 
 Said Arthur, when he dubb'd him knight; and 
 none. 
 
238 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 In so young youth, was ever made a knight 
 Till Galahad; and this Galahad, when he 
 
 heard 
 My sister's vision, fill'd me with amaze : 
 His eyes became so like her own, they seem'd 
 Hers, and himself her brother more than I. 
 
 "Sister or brother none had he; but some 
 Call'd him a son of Lancelot, and some said 
 Begotten by enchantment — chatterers they. 
 Like birds of passage piping up and down. 
 That gape for flies — we know not whence they 
 
 come; 
 For when was Lancelot wanderingly lewd? 
 
 "But she, the wan sweet maiden, shore 
 
 away 
 Clean from her forehead all that wealth of hair 
 Which made a silken mat-work for her feet; 
 And out of this she plaited broad and long 
 A strong sword-belt, and wove with silver 
 
 thread 
 And crimson in the belt a strange device, 
 A crimson grail within a silver beam ; 
 And saw the bright boy-knight, and bound it 
 
 on him. 
 Saying, *My knight, my love, my knight of 
 
 heaven, 
 O thou, my love, whose love is one with mine, 
 I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind my belt. 
 Go forth, for thou shalt see what I have seen, 
 And break thro' all, till one will crown thee 
 
 king 
 Far in the spiritual city:' and as she spake 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 239 
 
 She sent the deathless passion in her eyes 
 Thro' him, and made him hers, and laid her 
 
 mind 
 On him, and he believed in her belief. 
 
 *'Then came a year of miracle: O brother, 
 In our great hall there stood a vacant chair, 
 Fashion 'd by Merlin ere he past away, 
 And carven with strange figures; and in and 
 
 out 
 The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll 
 Of letters in a tongue no man could read. 
 And Merlin call'd it 'The Siege Perilous,' 
 Perilous for good and ill; 'for there,' he said, 
 'No man could sit but he should lose himself:' 
 And once by misadvertence Merlin sat 
 In his own chair, and so was lost: but he, 
 Galahad, when he heard of Merlin's doom, 
 Cried, 'If I lose myself, I save myself!' 
 
 "Then on a summer night it came to pass, 
 While the great banquet lay along the hall. 
 That Galahad would sit down in Merlin's chair. 
 
 "And all at once, as there we sat, we heard 
 A cracking and a riving of the roofs, 
 And rending! and a blast, and overhead 
 Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry. 
 And in the blast there smote along the hall 
 A beam of light seven times more clear than 
 
 day: 
 And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail 
 All over cover'd with a luminous cloud. 
 And none might see who bare it, and it past. 
 
240 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But every knight beheld his fellow's face 
 As in a glory, and all the knights arose, 
 And staring each at other like dumb men 
 Stood, till I found a voice and sware a vow. 
 
 "I sware a vow before them all, that I, 
 Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride 
 A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it, 
 Until I found and saw it, as the nun 
 My sister saw it; and Galahad sware the vow. 
 And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's cousin, 
 
 sware. 
 And Lancelot sware, and many among the 
 
 knights. 
 And Gav/ain sware, and louder than the rest." 
 
 Then spake the monk Ambrosius, asking 
 him, 
 *'What said the King? Did Arthur take the 
 vow?" 
 
 "Nay, for my lord," said Percivale, ''the 
 
 King, 
 Was not in hall : for early that same day, 
 Scaped thro' a cavern from a bandit hold, 
 An outraged maiden sprang into the hall 
 Crying on help: for all her shining hair 
 Was smear' d with earth, and either milky arm 
 Red-rent with hooks of bramble, and all she 
 
 wore 
 Torn as a sail that leaves the rope is torn 
 In tempest: so the King arose and went 
 To smoke the scandalous hive of those wild 
 
 bees - 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 241 
 
 That made such honey in his realm. Howbeit 
 Some little of this marvel he too saw 
 Returning o'er the plain that then began 
 To darken under Camelot ; whence the King 
 Look'd up, calling aloud, 'Lo, there! the roofs 
 Of our great hall are roll'd in thunder-smoke!' 
 Pray Heaven, they be not smitten by the 
 
 bolt. ' 
 For dear to Arthur was that hall of ours, 
 As having there so oft with all his knights 
 Feasted, and as the stateliest under heaven. 
 
 "O brother, had you known our mighty hall. 
 Which ^lerlin built for Arthur long ago! 
 For all the sacred mount of Camelot, 
 And all the dim rich city, roof by roof, 
 Tov/er after tower, spire beyond spire, 
 By grove, and garden- lawn, and rushing brook 
 Climbs to the mighty hall that Merlin built. 
 And four great zones of sculpture, set betwixt 
 With many a mystic symbol, gird the hall : 
 And in the lowest beasts are slaying men. 
 And in the second men are slaying beasts. 
 And on the third are warriors, perfect men, 
 And on the fourth are men with growing 
 
 wings, 
 And over all one statue in the mould 
 Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a crown. 
 And peak'd wings pointed to the Northern 
 
 Star. 
 And eastward fronts the statue, and the crown 
 And both the wings are made of gold, and 
 
 flame 
 At sunrise till the people in far fields, 
 
 16 
 
242 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Wasted so often by the heathen hordes. 
 Behold it, crying, 'We have still a King.' 
 
 "And, brother, had you known our hall 
 
 within, 
 Broader and higher than any in all the lands ! 
 Where twelve great windows blazon Arthur's 
 
 wars. 
 And all the light that falls upon the board 
 Streams thro' the twelve great battles, of our 
 
 King. 
 Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end, 
 Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and 
 
 mere. 
 Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur. 
 And also one to the west, and counter to it, 
 And blank: and who shall blazon it? when and 
 
 how? — 
 O there, perchance, when all our wars are 
 
 done, 
 The brand Excalibur will be cast away. 
 
 "So to this hall full quickly rode the King, 
 In horror lest the work by Merlin wrought. 
 Dreamlike, should on the sudden vanish, wrapt 
 In unremorseful folds of rolling fire. 
 And in he rode, and up I glanced, and saw 
 The golden dragon sparkling over all : 
 And many of those who burnt the hold, their 
 
 arms 
 Hack'd, and their foreheads grimed with smoke, 
 
 and sear'd, 
 Follow'd, and in among bright faces, ours, 
 Full of the vision, prest : and then the King 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 243 
 
 Spake to me, being nearest, 'Percivale,' 
 (Because the hall was all in tumult — some 
 Vowing, and some protesting), 'what is this?* 
 
 *'0 brother, when I told him what had 
 
 chanced, 
 My sister's vision, and the rest, his face 
 Darken'd, as I have seen it more than once, 
 When some brave deed seem'd to be done in 
 
 vain. 
 Darken; and 'Woe is me, my knights, ' he cried 
 * Had I been here, ye had not sworn the vow. ' 
 Bold was mine answer, 'Had thyself been here, 
 My King, thou wouldst have sworn. ' 'Yea, 
 
 yea, ' said he, 
 *Art thou so bold and hast not seen the Grail?' 
 
 " 'Nay, lord, I heard the sound, I saw the 
 light. 
 But since I did not see the Holy Thing, 
 I sware a vow to follow it till I saw. ' 
 
 "Then when he ask'd us, knight by knight, 
 
 if any 
 Had seen it, all their answers were as one: 
 *'Nay, lord, and therefore have we sworn our 
 
 vows. ' 
 
 " 'Lo now,' said Arthur, 'have ye seen a 
 cloud ? 
 What go ye into the wilderness to see?' 
 
 "Then Galahad on the sudden, and in a voice 
 Shrilling along the hall to Arthur, call'd, 
 
244 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 'But I, Sir Arthur, saw the Holy Grail, 
 I saw the Holy Grail, and heard a cry — 
 "O Galahad, and O Galahad, follow me." * 
 
 *' 'Ah, Galahad, Galahad,' said the King-, 
 
 'for such 
 As thou art is the vision, not for these. 
 Thy holy nun and thou have seen a sign- 
 Holier is none, my Percivale, than she — 
 A sign to maim this Order which I made. 
 But ye, that follow but the leader's bell' 
 (Brother, the King was hard upon his knights) 
 'Taliessin is our fullest throat of song. 
 And one hath sung and all the dumb will sing-. 
 Lancelot is Lancelot, and hath overborne 
 Five knights at once, and every younger 
 
 knight, 
 Unproven, holds himself as Lancelot, 
 Till overborne by one, he learns — and ye, 
 What are ye? Galahads? — no, nor Percivales* 
 (For thus it pleased the King to range me close 
 After Sir Galahad); 'nay,' said he, 'but men. 
 With strength and will to right the wrong'd^ 
 
 of power 
 To lay the sudden heads of violence flat, 
 Knights that in twelve great battles splash 'd 
 
 and dyed 
 The strong White Horse in his own heathen 
 
 blood — 
 But one hath seen, and all the blind will see. 
 Go, since your vows are sacred, being made : 
 Yet — for ye know the cries of all my realm 
 Pass thro' this hall — how often, O my knights. 
 Your places being vacant at my side. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 245 
 
 'This chance of noble deeds will come and go 
 Unchallenged, while ye follow wandering fires 
 Lost in the quagmire! Man)^ of you, yea most, 
 Return no more : ye think I show myself 
 Too dark a prophet: come now, let us meet 
 The morrow morn once more in one full field 
 Of gracious pastime, that once more the King, 
 Before ye leave him for this Quest, may count 
 The yet-unbroken strength of all his knights, 
 Rejoicing in that Order which he made. ' 
 
 *'So when the sun broke next from under 
 ground, 
 All the great table of our Arthur closed 
 And clash'd in such a tourney and so full, 
 So many lances broken — never yet 
 Had Camelot seen the like, since Arthur came; 
 And I myself and Galahad, for a strength 
 l/Vas in us from the vision, overthrew 
 So many knights that all the people cried. 
 And almost burst the barriers in their heat, 
 ■Shouting, 'Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale!' 
 
 *'But when the next day brake from under 
 
 ground — 
 O brother, had you known our Camelot, 
 Built by old kings, age after age, so old 
 The King himself had fears that it would fall, 
 So strange, and rich, and dim ; for where the 
 
 roofs 
 Totter' d toward each other in the sky, 
 Met foreheads all along the street of those 
 Who watch'd us pass; and lower, and where 
 
 the long 
 
246 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Rich galleries, lady-laden, weigh 'd the necks 
 Of dragons clinging to the crazy walls. 
 Thicker than drops from thunder, showers of 
 
 flowers 
 Fell as we past ; and men and boys astride 
 On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan. 
 At all the corners, named us each by name. 
 Calling 'God speed!' but in the ways below 
 The knights and ladies wept, and rich and poor 
 Wept, and the King himself could hardly speak 
 For grief, and all in middle street the Queen, 
 Who rode by Lancelot, wail'd and shriek 'd 
 
 aloud, 
 'This madness has come on us for our sins. ' 
 So to the Gate of the three Queens we came, 
 Where Arthur's wars are render'd mystically, 
 And thence departed every one his way. 
 
 **And I was lifted up in heart, and thought 
 Of all my late-shown prowess in the lists. 
 How my strong lance had beaten down the 
 
 knights. 
 So many aad famous names; and never yet 
 Had heaven appeared so blue, nor earth so 
 
 green. 
 For all my blood danced in me, and I knew 
 That I should light upon the Holy Grail. 
 
 "Thereafter, the dark warning of our King 
 That most of us would follow wandering fires^ 
 Came like a driving gloom across my mind. 
 Then every evil word I had spoken once. 
 And every evil thought I had thought of old^ 
 And every evil deed I ever did. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 247 
 
 Awoke and cried, 'This Quest is not for thee/ 
 And lifting up mine eyes, I found myself 
 Alone, and in a land of sand and thorns. 
 And I was thirsty even unto death; 
 And I, too, cried, 'This Quest is not for thee." 
 
 "And on I rode, and when I thought my 
 
 thirst 
 Would slay me, saw deep lawns, and then a 
 
 brook, 
 With one sharp rapid, where the crisping white 
 Play'd ever back upon the sloping wave, 
 And took both ear and eye; and o'er the 
 
 brook 
 Were apple-trees, and apples by the brook 
 Fallen, and on the lawns. 'I will rest here,' 
 I said, 'I am not worthy of the Quest;* 
 But even while I drank the brook, and ate 
 The goodly apples, all these things at once 
 Fell into dust, and I was left alone, 
 And thirsting, in a land of sand and thorns. 
 
 "And then behold a woman at a door 
 Spinning; and fair the house whereby she sat, 
 And kind the woman's eyes and innocent, 
 And all her bearing gracious; and she rose 
 Opening her arms to meet me, as who should 
 
 say, 
 'Rest here;' but when I touch 'd her, lo! she, 
 
 too, 
 Fell into dust and nothing, and the house 
 Became no better than a broken shed, 
 And in it a dead babe ; and also this 
 Fell into dust, and I was left alone. 
 
248 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 "And on I rode and greater was my thirst. 
 Then flash 'd a yellow gleam across the world, 
 And where it smote the plowshare in the field, 
 The plowman left his plowing, and fell down 
 Before it; where it glitter'd on her pail, 
 The milkmaid left her milking, and fell down 
 Before it, and I knew not why, but thought 
 *The sun is rising,' tho' the sun had risen. 
 Then was I ware of one that on me moved 
 In golden armor with a crown of gold 
 About a casque all jewels; and his horse 
 In golden armor jewell'd everywhere : 
 And on the splendor came, flashing me blind ; 
 And seem'd to me the Lord of all the world, 
 Being so huge. But when I thought he meant 
 To crush me, moving on me, lo! he, too 
 Open'd his arms to embrace me as he came, 
 And up I went and touch 'd him, and he, too, 
 Fell into dust, and I was left alone 
 And wearying in a land of sand and thorns. 
 
 "And I rode on and found a mighty hill, 
 And on the top, a city wall'd: the spires 
 Prick'd with incredible pinnacles into heaven. 
 And by the gateway stirr'd a crowd; and these 
 Cried to me climbing, 'Welcome, Percivale! 
 Thou mightiest and thou purest among men!' 
 And glad was I and clomb, but found at top 
 No man, nor any voice. And thence I past 
 Far thro' a ruinous city, and I saw 
 That man had once dwelt there; but there I 
 
 found 
 Only one man of an exceeding age. 
 "Where is that goody company,' said I, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 249 
 
 'That so cried out upon me?' and he had 
 Scarce any voice to answer, and yet gasp'd, 
 'Whence and what art thou?* and even as he 
 
 spoke 
 Fell into dust, and disappear'd, and I 
 Was left alone once more, and cried in grief, 
 'Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself 
 And touch it, it will crumble into dust. ' 
 
 "And thence I dropt into a lowly vale, 
 Low as the hill was high, and where the vale 
 Was lowest, found a chapel, and thereby 
 A holy hermit in a hermitage. 
 To whom I told my phantoms, and he said : 
 
 " 'O son, thou hast not true humility. 
 The highest virtue, mother of them all; 
 For when the Lord of all things made Himself 
 Naked of glory for His mortal change, 
 "Take thou my robe," she said, "for all is 
 
 thine," 
 And all her form shone forth with sudden light 
 So that the angels were amazed, and she 
 Follow'd Him down, and like a flying star 
 Led on the gray-hair 'd wisdom of the east; 
 But her thou hast not known: for what is 
 
 this 
 Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins? 
 Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself 
 As Galahad. ' When the hermit made an end. 
 In silver armor suddenly Galahad shone 
 Before us, and against the chapel door 
 Laid lance; and enter'd, and we knelt in 
 
 prayer. 
 
250 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And there the hermit slack 'd my burning" 
 
 thirst, 
 And at the sacring of the mass I saw 
 The holy elements alone ; but he, 
 "Saw ye no more? I, Galahad, saw the Grail, 
 The Holy Grail, descend upon the shrine; 
 I saw the fiery face as of a child 
 That smote itself into the bread, and went; 
 And hither am I come ; and never yet 
 Hath what thy sister taught me first to see, 
 This Holy Thing, fail'd from my side, nor 
 
 come 
 Cover'd, but moving with me night and day, 
 Fainter by day, but always in the night 
 Blood-red, and sliding down the blacken'd 
 
 marsh 
 Elood-red, and on the naked mountain top 
 Blood-red, and in th« sleeping mere below 
 Blood-red. And in the strength of this I rode, 
 Shattering all evil customs everywhere, 
 And past thro' Pagan realms, and made them 
 
 mine, 
 And clash'd with Pagan hordes, and bore them 
 
 down, 
 And broke thro' all, and in the strength of 
 
 this 
 Come victor. But my time is hard at hand, 
 And hence I go; and one will crown me king 
 Far in the spiritual city ; and come thou, too, 
 For thou shalt see the vision when I go. ' 
 
 ''While thus he spake, his eye, dwelling on 
 mine. 
 Drew me, with power upon me, till I grew 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 251 
 
 One with him, to believe as he believed. 
 Then, when the day began to wane, we went. 
 
 "There rose a hill that none but man could 
 
 climb, 
 Scarr'd with a hundred wintry water-courses — 
 Storm at the top, and when we gain'd it, 
 
 storm 
 Round us and death ; for every moment glanced 
 His silver arms and gloom 'd : so quick and thick 
 The lightnings here and there to left and right 
 Struck, till the dry old trunks about us, dead, 
 Yea, rotten with a hundred years of death. 
 Sprang into fire : and at the base we found 
 On either hand, as far as eye could see, 
 A great black swamp and of an evil smell. 
 Part black, part whiten 'd with the bones of 
 
 men, 
 Not to be crost, save that some ancient king 
 Had built a way, where, link'd with many a 
 
 bridge, 
 A thousand piers ran into the great Sea. 
 And Galahad fled along them bridge by bridge, 
 And every bridge as quickly as he crost 
 Sprang into fire and vanish 'd, tho' I yearn 'd 
 To follow ; and thrice above him all the heavens 
 Open'd and blaz'd with thunder such as seem'd 
 Shoutings of all the sons of God : and first 
 At once I saw him far on the great Sea, 
 In silver-shining armor starry-clear; 
 And o'er his head the Holy Vessel hung 
 Clothed in white samite or a luminous cloud. 
 And with exceeding swiftness ran the boat, 
 If boat it were — I saw not whence it came. 
 
252 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And when the heavens open'd and blazed again 
 Roaring, I saw him like a silver star — 
 And had he set the sail, or had the boat 
 Become a living creature clad with wings? 
 And o'er his head the Holy Vessel hung 
 Redder than any rose, a joy to me. 
 For now I knew the veil had been withdrawn. 
 Then in a moment when they blazed again 
 Opening, I saw the least of little stars 
 Down on the waste, and straight beyond the 
 
 star 
 I saw the spiritual city and all her spires 
 And gateways in a glor}^ like one pearl — 
 No larger, tho' the goal of all the saints — 
 Strike from the sea; and from the star there 
 
 shot 
 A rose-red sparkle to the city, and there 
 Dwelt, and I knew it was the Holy Grail, 
 Which never eyes on earth again shall see. 
 Then fell the floods of heaven drowning the 
 
 deep. 
 And how my feet recrost the deathful ridge 
 No memory in me lives; but that I touch'd 
 The chapel-doors at dawn I know; and thence 
 Taking my war-horse from the holy man, 
 Glad that no phantom vext me more, return 'd 
 To whence I came, the gate of Arthur's wars. " 
 
 "O brother," ask'd Ambrosius, — "for in 
 sooth 
 These ancient books — and they would win thee 
 
 — teem, 
 Only I find not there this Holy Grail, 
 With miracles and marvels like to these. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 253 
 
 Not all unlike; which oftentime I read, 
 
 Who read but on my breviary with ease, 
 
 Till my head swims; and then go forth and 
 
 pass 
 Down to the little thorpe that lies so close, 
 And almost plaster'd like a martin's nest 
 To these ola walls — and mingle with our folk ; 
 And knowing every honest face of theirs 
 As well as ever shepherd knew his sheep, 
 And every homely secret in their hearts. 
 Delight myself with gossip and old wives, 
 And ills and aches, and teethings, lyings-in, 
 And mirthful sayings, children of the place, 
 That have no meaning half a league away: 
 Or lulling random squabbles when they rise, 
 Chafferings and chatterings at the market- 
 cross, 
 Rejoice, small man, in this small world of mine, 
 Yea, even in their hens and in their eggs — 
 O brother, saving this Sir Galahad, 
 Came ye on none but phantoms in your quest. 
 No man, no woman?" 
 
 Then Sir Percivale: 
 *'A11 men, to one so bound by such a vow, 
 And women were as phantoms. O, my brother. 
 Why wilt thou shame me to confess to thee 
 How far I falter'd from my quest and vow? 
 For after I had lain so many nights, 
 A bedmate of the snail and eft and snake. 
 In grass and burdock, I was changed to wan 
 And meagre, and the vision had not come ; 
 And then I chanced upon a goodly town 
 With one great dwelling in the middle of it ; 
 
254 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Thither I made, and there was I disarm 'd 
 By maidens each as fair as any flower: 
 But when they led me into hall, behold, 
 The Princess of that castle was the one, 
 Brother, and that one only, \vho had ever 
 Made my heart leap ; for when I moved of old 
 A slender page about her father's hall. 
 And she a slender maiden, all my heart 
 Went after her with longing: yet we twain 
 Had never kiss'd a kiss, or vow'd a vow. 
 And now I came upon her once again, 
 And one had wedded her, and he was dead, 
 And all his land and wealth and state were 
 
 hers. 
 And while I tarried, every day she set 
 A banquet richer than the day before 
 By me ; for all her longing and her will 
 Was toward me as of old; till one fair morn, 
 I walking to and fro beside a stream. 
 That flash'd across her orchard underneath 
 Her castle-walls, she stole upon my walk, 
 And calling me the greatest of all knights, 
 Embraced me, and so kiss'd me the first time, 
 And gave herself and all her wealth to me. 
 Then I remember'd Arthur's warning word, 
 That most of us would follow wandering fires. 
 And the Quest faded in my heart. Anon, 
 The heads of all her people drew to me, 
 With supplication both of knees and tongue: 
 'We have heard of thee: thou art our greatest 
 
 knight, 
 Our Lady says it, and we well believe: 
 Wed thou our Lady, and rule over us. 
 And thou shalt be as Arthur in our land. ' 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KL\G. 255 
 
 O me, my brother ! but one night my vow 
 
 Burnt me within, so that I rose and fled. 
 
 But wail'd and wept, and hated mine own self^ 
 
 And ev'n the Holy Quest, and all but her; 
 
 Then after I was join'd with Galahad 
 
 Cared not for her, nor anything upon earth."" 
 
 Then said the monk, "Poor men, when yule 
 
 is cold, 
 Must be content to sit by little fires. 
 And this am I, so that 3^e care for me 
 Ever so little ; yea, and blest be Heaven 
 That brought thee here to this poor house of 
 
 ours 
 Where all the brethren are so hard, to warm 
 My cold heart with a friend: butO the pity 
 To find thine own first love once m^ore — to hold. 
 Hold her a wealthy bride within thine arms, 
 Or all but hold, and then — cast her aside. 
 Foregoing all her sweetness, like a weed. 
 For we that want the warmth of double life, 
 We that are plagued with dreams of something 
 
 sweet 
 Beyond all sweetness in a life so rich, — 
 Ah, blessed Lord, I speak too earthly wise, 
 Seeing I never stray 'd beyond the cell. 
 But live like an old badger in his earth. 
 With earth about him everywhere, despite 
 All fast and penance. Saw ye none beside, 
 None of your knights?" 
 
 "Yea so," said Percivale: 
 "One night my pathway swerving east, I saw 
 The pelican on the casque of our Sir Bors 
 
256 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 All in the middle of the rising moon: 
 
 And toward him spurr'd, and hail'd him, and 
 
 he me, 
 And each made joy of either; then he ask'd, 
 "Where is he? hast thou seen him — Lancelot? — • 
 
 Once, 
 ^Said good Sir Bors, 'he dash'd across me — 
 
 mad, 
 And maddening what he rode: and when I 
 
 cried, 
 "'Ridest thou then so hotly on a quest 
 So holy," Lancelot shouted, "Stay me not! 
 I have been the sluggard, and I ride apace, 
 For now there is a lion in the way." 
 So vanish 'd.' 
 
 "Then Sir Bors had ridden on 
 Softly, and sorrowing for our Lancelot, 
 Because his former madness, once the talk 
 And scandal of our table, had return'd; 
 For Lancelot's kith and kin so worship him 
 That ill to him is ill to them ; to Bors 
 Beyond the rest: he well had been content 
 Not to have seen, so Lancelot might have seen, 
 The Holy Cup of healing; and, indeed. 
 Being so clouded with his grief and love, 
 Small heart was his after the Holy Quest : 
 If God would send the vision, well : if not, 
 The Quest and he were in the hands of 
 Heaven. 
 
 "And then, with small adventure met, Sir 
 Bors 
 Rode to the lonest tract of all the realm. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 257 
 
 And found a people there among their crags, 
 Our race and biood, a remnant that were left 
 Paynim amid their circles, and the stones 
 They pitch up straight to heaven: and their 
 
 wise men 
 Were strong in that old magic which can trace 
 The wandering of the stars, and scoff 'd at him 
 And this high Quest as at a simple thing: 
 Told him he follow'd — almost Arthur's words — 
 A mocking fire: 'what other fire than he. 
 Whereby the blood beats, and the blossom 
 
 blows. 
 And the sea rolls, and all the world is warm'd?' 
 And when his answer chafed them, the rough 
 
 crowd, 
 Hearing he had a difference with their priests, 
 Seized him, and bound and plunged him into 
 
 a cell 
 Of great piled stones; and lying bounden 
 
 there 
 In darkness thro' innumerable hours 
 He heard the hollow-ringing heaven sweep 
 Over him till by miracle — what else? — 
 Heavy as it was, a great stone slipt and fell, 
 Such as no wind could move; and thro' the 
 
 gap 
 Glimmer'd the steaming scud; then came a 
 
 night 
 Still as the day was loud; and thro' the gap 
 The seven clear stars of Arthur's Table 
 
 Round — 
 For, brother, so one night, because they roll 
 Thro' such a round in heaven, we named the 
 
 stars, 
 
 17 Idyll3 
 
258 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Rejoicing in ourselves and in our King — 
 And these, like bright eyes of familiar friends^ 
 In on him shone: 'And then to me, to me,' 
 Said good Sir Bors, 'beyond all hopes of mine. 
 Who scarce have pray'd or ask'd it for m}^- 
 
 self— 
 Across the seven clear stars — O grace to me — 
 In color like the fingers of a hand 
 Before a burning taper, the sweet Grail 
 Glided and past, and close upon it peal'd 
 A sharp quick thunder. ' Afterwards, a maid. 
 Who kept our holy faith among her kin 
 In secret, entering, loosed and let him go." 
 
 To whom the monk: "And I remember 
 
 now 
 That pelican on the casque : Sir Bors it was 
 Who spake so low and sadly at our board; 
 And mighty reverent at our grace was he: 
 A square-set man and honest ; and his eyes, 
 An out-door sign of all the warmth within. 
 Smiled with his lips — a smile beneath a cloud. 
 But heaven had meant it for a sunny one : 
 Ay, ay. Sir Bors, who else? But when ye 
 
 reach 'd 
 The city, found ye all your knights return'd, 
 Or was "there sooth in Arthur's prophecy. 
 Tell me, and what said each, and what the 
 
 King?" 
 
 Then answer'd Percivale: "And that can I, 
 Brother, and truly ; since the living words 
 Of so great men as Lancelot and our King 
 Pass not from door to door and out again, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 259 
 
 But sit within the house. O, when we reach'd 
 The city, our horses stumbling as they trode 
 On heaps of ruin, hornless unicorns, 
 Crack'd basilisks, and splinter'd cockatrices. 
 And shatter'd talbots, which had left the stones 
 Raw, that they fell from, brought us to the 
 hall. 
 
 "And there sat Arthur on the dais- throne, 
 And those that had gone out upon the Quest, 
 Wasted and worn, and but a tithe of them, 
 And those that had not, stood before the King, 
 Who, when he saw me, rose, and bade me hail, 
 Saying, 'A welfare in thine eye reproves 
 Our fear of some disastrous chance for thee 
 On hill, or plain, at sea, or flooding ford. 
 So fierce a gale made havoc here of late 
 Among the strange devices of our kings; 
 Yea, shook this newer, stronger hall of ours, 
 And from the statue Merlin moulded for us 
 Half-wrench'd a golden wing; but now — the 
 
 Quest, 
 This vision — hast thou seen the Holy Cup, 
 That Joseph brought of old to Glastonbury?' 
 
 "So when I told him all thyself hast heard, 
 Ambrosius, and my fresh but fixt resolve 
 To pass away into the quiet life, 
 He answer 'd not, but, sharply turning, ask'd 
 Of Gawain, 'Gawain, was this Quest for thee?' 
 
 " 'Nay, lord,' said Gawain, 'not for such as I. 
 Therefore I communed with a saintly man. 
 Who made me sure the Quest was not for me ; 
 
260 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 For I was much awearied of the Quest: 
 But found a silk pavilion in a field, 
 And merry maidens in it ; and then this gale 
 Tore my pavilion from the tenting-pin, 
 And blew my merry maidens all about 
 With all discomfort ; yea, and but for this, 
 My twelvemonth and a day were pleasant to 
 me.' 
 
 *'He ceased; and Arthur turn'd to whom at 
 
 first 
 He saw not, for Sir Bors, on entering-, push'd 
 Athwart the throng to Lancelot, caught his 
 
 hand. 
 Held it, and there, half-hidden by him, stood, 
 Until the King espied him, saying to him, 
 * Hail, Bors ! if ever loyal man and true 
 Could see it thou hast seen the Grail;' and 
 
 Bors 
 *Ask me not, for I may not speak of it: 
 I saw it;' and the tears were in his eyes. 
 
 *'Then there remain 'd but Lancelot, for the 
 
 rest 
 Spake but of sundry perils in the storm ; 
 Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy Writ, 
 Our Arthur kept his best until the last ; 
 *Thou, too, my Lancelot,' ask'd the King, *my 
 
 friend. 
 Our mightiest, hath this Quest avail 'd for thee?' 
 
 " 'Our mightiest!' answer 'd Lancelot, with 
 a groan ; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 261 
 
 'O King!' — and when he paused, methought I 
 
 spied 
 A dying fire of madness in his eyes — 
 'O King, my friend, if friend of thine I be, 
 Happier are those that welter in their sin. 
 Swine in the mud, that cannot see for slime, 
 Slime of the ditch : but in me lived a sin 
 So strange, of such a kind, that all of pure. 
 Noble, and knightly in me tw4ned and clung 
 Round that one sin, until the wholesome flower 
 And poisonous grew together, each as each, 
 Not to be pluck 'd asunder; and when thy 
 
 knights 
 Sware, I sware with them only in the hope 
 That could I touch or see the Holy Grail 
 They might be pluck'd asunder. Then I spake 
 To one most holy saint, who wept and said, 
 That save they could be pluck'd asunder, all 
 My quest were but in vain; to whom I vow'd 
 That I would work according as he will'd. 
 And forth I went, and while I yearn 'd and 
 
 strove 
 To tear the twain asunder in my heart, 
 My madness came upon me as of old. 
 And whipt me into waste fields far away; 
 There was I beaten down by little men. 
 Mean knights, to whom the moving of my sword 
 And shadow of my spear had been enow 
 To scare them from me once ; and then I came 
 All in my folly to the naked shore. 
 Wide flats, where nothing but coarse grasses 
 
 grew ; 
 But such a blast, my King, began to blow, 
 So loud a blast along the shore and sea, 
 
262 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Ye could not hear the waters for the blast, 
 Tho' heapt in mounds and ridges all the sea 
 Drove like a cataract, and all the sand 
 Swept like a river, and the clouded heavens 
 Were shaken with the motion and the sound. 
 And blackening in the sea-foam sway'd a boat 
 Half-swallow'd in it, anchor'd with a chain; 
 And in my madness to myself I said 
 *'I will embark and I will lose myself. 
 And in the great sea wash away m)^ sin. " 
 I burst the chain, I sprang into the boat. 
 Seven days I drove along the dreary deep. 
 And with me drove the moon and all the stars; 
 And the wind fell, and on the seventh night 
 I heard the shingle grinding in the surge. 
 And felt the boat shock earth, and looking up, 
 Behold, the enchanted towers of Carbonek, 
 A castle like a rock upon a rock. 
 With chasm-like portals open to the sea, 
 And steps that met the breaker! there was 
 
 none 
 Stood near it but a lion on each side 
 That kept the entry, and the moon was full. 
 Then from the boat I leapt, and up the stairs. 
 There drew my sword. With sudden-flaring 
 
 manes 
 Those two great beasts rose upright like a 
 
 man. 
 Each gript a shoulder, and I stood between ; 
 And, when I would have smitten them, heard 
 
 a voice, 
 *' Doubt not, go forward; if thou doubt, the 
 
 beasts 
 Will tear thee piecemeal. ' ' Then with violence 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 263 
 
 The sword was dash'd from out my hand, and 
 
 fell. 
 And up into the sounding hall I past; 
 But nothing- in the sounding hall I past 
 But nothing in the sounding hall I saw, 
 No bench nor table, painting on the wall 
 Or shield of knight ; only the rounded moon 
 Thro' the tall oriel on the rolling sea. 
 But always in the quiet house I heard, 
 Clear as a lark, high o'er me as a lark, 
 A sweet voice singing in the topmost tower 
 To the eastward, up I climb'd a thousand steps 
 With pain; as in a dream I seem'd to climb 
 For ever: at the last I reach'd a door, 
 A light was in the crannies, and I heard, 
 *' Glory and joy and honor to our Lord 
 And to the Holy Vessel of the Grail." 
 Then in my madness I essay 'd the door; 
 It gave ; and thro' a stormy glare, a heat 
 As from a seventimes-heated furnace, I, 
 Blasted and burnt, and blinded as I was. 
 With such a fierceness that I swoon 'd away — 
 O, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail, 
 All pall'd in crimson samite, and around 
 Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes. 
 And but for all my madness and my sin, 
 And then my swooning, I had sworn I saw 
 That which I saw; but what I saw was veil'd 
 And cover'd; and this Quest was not for me.' 
 
 *' So speaking, and here ceasing, Lancelot left 
 The hall long silent, till Sir Gawain — nay, 
 Brother, I need not tell thee foolish words, — 
 A reckless and irreverent knight was he. 
 
264 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Now bolden'd by the silence of his King, — 
 Well, I will tell thee: 'O King, my liege,' he 
 
 said, 
 *Hath Gawain fail'd in any quest of thine? 
 When have I stinted stroke in foughten field? 
 But as for thine, my good friend Percivale, 
 Thy holy nun and thou have driven men mad, 
 Yea, made our mightiest madder than our least. 
 But by mine eyes and by mine ears I swear, 
 I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, 
 And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, 
 To holy virgins in their ecstasies, 
 Henceforward. ' 
 
 ** 'Deafer,' said the blameless King, / 
 *Gawain, and blinder unto holy things 
 Hope not to make thyself by idle vows. 
 Being too blind to have desire to see. 
 But if indeed there cam.e a sign from heaven. 
 Blessed are Bors, Lancelot and Percivale, 
 For these have seen according to their sight. 
 For every fiery prophet in old times, 
 And all the sacred madness of the bard, 
 When God made music thro' them, could but 
 
 speak 
 His music by the framework and the chord; 
 And as ye saw it ye have spoken truth. 
 
 ** 'Nay — but thou errest, Lancelot: never yet 
 Could all of true and noble in knight and man 
 Twine round one sin, whatever it might be, 
 With such a closeness, but apart there grew, 
 Save that he were the swine thou spakest of, 
 Some root of knighthood and pure nobleness; 
 Whereto see thou, that it may bear its flower. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 265 
 
 " 'And Spake I not too truly, O my knights? 
 Was I too dark a prophet when I said 
 To those who went upon the Holy Quest, 
 That most of them would follow wandering" 
 
 fires, 
 Lost in the quagmire? — lost to me and gone, 
 And left me gazing at a barren board. 
 And a lean Order — scarce return 'd a tithe — 
 And out of those to whom the vision came 
 My greatest hardly will believe he saw ; 
 Another hath beheld it afar off, 
 And leaving human wTongs to right them- 
 selves. 
 Cares but to pass into the silent life. 
 And one hath had the vision face to face. 
 And now his chair desires him here in vain, 
 However they may crown him otherwhere. 
 
 " 'And some among you held, that if the King 
 Had seen the sight he would have sworn the 
 
 vow: 
 Not easily, seeing that the King must guard 
 That which he rules, and is but as the hind 
 To whom a space of land is given to plow. 
 Who may not wander from the allotted field 
 Before his work be done ; but, being done, 
 Let visions of the night or of the day 
 Come, as they will; and many a time they 
 
 come. 
 Until this earth he walks on seems not earth, 
 This light that strikes his eyeball is not light, 
 This air that smites his forehead is not air 
 But vision — yea, his very hand and foot — 
 In moments when he feels he cannot die. 
 
 13 Idylls 
 
266 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And knows himself no vision to himself, 
 Nor the high God a vision, nor that One 
 Who rose again: ye have seen what ye have 
 seen. ' 
 
 "So spake the King: I knew not all he 
 meant." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 267 
 
 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 
 
 King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap 
 Left by the Holy Quest ; and as he sat 
 In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors 
 Were softly sunder'd, and thro' these a youth, 
 Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields 
 Past, and the sunshine came along with him. 
 
 *'Make me thy knight, because I know, Sir 
 
 King, 
 All that belongs to knighthood, and I love. ' ' 
 Such was his cry : for having heard the King 
 Had let proclaim a tournament — the prize 
 A golden circlet and a knightly sword, 
 Full fain had Pelleas for his lady won 
 The golden circlet, for himself the sword : 
 And there were those who knew him near the 
 
 King, 
 And promised for him : and Arthur made him 
 
 knight. 
 
 And this new knight, Sir Pelleas of the isles — • 
 But lately come to his inheritance. 
 And lord of many a barren isle was he — 
 Riding at noon, a day or twain before, 
 Across the forest call'd of Dean, to find 
 Caerleon and the King, had felt the sun 
 Beat like a strong knight on his helm, and 
 reel'd 
 
268 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Almost to falling from his horse; but saw 
 Near him a mound of even-sloping side, 
 Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew, 
 And here and there great hollies under them ; 
 But for a mile all round was open space. 
 And fern and heath : and slowly Pelleas drew 
 To that dim day, then binding his good horse 
 To a tree, cast himself down; and as he lay 
 At random looking over the brown earth 
 Thro' that green-glooming twilight of the 
 
 grove, 
 It seem'd to Pelleas that the fern without 
 Burnt as a living fire of emeralds. 
 So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it. 
 Then o'er it crost tlie dimness of a cloud 
 Floating, and once the shadow of a bird 
 Flying, and then a fawn; and his eyes closed. 
 And since he loved all maidens, but no maid 
 In special, half- awake he whisper 'd, "Where? 
 O where? I love thee, tho' I know thee not. 
 For fair thou are and pure as Guinevere, 
 And I will make thee with my spear and sword 
 As famous — O my Queen, my Guinevere, 
 For I will be thine Arthur when we meet ' ' 
 
 Suddenly waken'd with a sound of talk 
 And laughter at the limit of the wood, 
 And glancing thro' the hoary boles, he saw. 
 Strange as to some old prophet might have 
 
 seem'd 
 A vision hovering on a sea of fire. 
 Damsels in divers colors like the cloud 
 Of sunset and sunrise, and all of them 
 On horses, and the horses richly trapt 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 269 
 
 Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood 
 And all the damsels talk'd confusedly, 
 And one was pointing this way, and one that 
 Because the way was lost. 
 
 And Pelleas rose. 
 And loosed his horse, and led him to the light. 
 There she that seem'd the chief among them 
 
 said, 
 "In happy time behold our pilot-star! 
 Youth, we are damsels-errant, and we ride, 
 Arm'd as ye see, to tilt against the knights 
 There at Caerleon, but have lost our way: 
 To right? to left? straight forward? back again? 
 Which? tell us quickly. " 
 
 And Pelleas gazing thought^ 
 ^'Is Guinevere herself so beautiful?" 
 For large her violet eyes look'd, and her bloom. 
 A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens, 
 And round her limbs, mature in womanhood; 
 And slender was her hand and small her shape; 
 And but for those large eyes, the haunts of 
 
 scorn. 
 She might have seem'd a toy to trifle with, 
 And pass and care no more. But while he gazed 
 The beauty of her flesh abash 'd the boy, 
 As tho' it were the beauty of her soul: 
 For as the base man, judging of the good. 
 Puts his own baseness in him by default 
 Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend 
 All the young beauty of his own soul to hers. 
 Believing her; and when she spake to him, 
 Stammer'd, and could not make her a reply. 
 
270 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 For out of the waste islands had he come, 
 Where saving his own sisters he had known 
 Scarce any but the women of his isles, 
 Rough wives, that laugh' d and scream 'd against 
 
 the gulls, 
 Makers of nets, and living from the sea. 
 
 Then with a slow smile turn'd the lady round 
 And look'd upon her people; and as when 
 A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn, 
 The circle widens till it lip the marge. 
 Spread the slow smile thro' all her company. 
 Three knights were there among; and they too 
 
 smiled, 
 Scorning him ; for the lady was Ettarre, 
 And she was a great lady in her land. 
 
 Again she said, "O wild and of the woods, 
 Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech? 
 Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face, 
 Lacking a tongue?" 
 
 "O damsel," answer'd he, 
 *'I woke from dreams; and coming out of 
 
 gloom 
 Was dazzled by the sudden light, and crave 
 Pardon: but will ye to Caerleon? I 
 Go likewise: shall I lead you to the King?" 
 
 *'Lead then," she said; and thro' the woods 
 they went. 
 And while they rode, the meaning in his eyes, 
 His tenderness of manner, and chaste awe, 
 His broken utterances and bashfulness, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 271 
 
 Were all a burthen to her, and in her heart 
 She mutter 'd, "1 have lighted on a fool, 
 Raw, yet so stale!" But since her mind was 
 
 bent 
 On hearing", after trumpet blown, her name 
 And title, "Queen of Beauty," in the lists 
 Cried — and beholding him so strong, she 
 
 thought 
 That peradventure he will fight for me, 
 And win the circlet: therefore flatter'd him. 
 Being so gracious, that he wellnigh deem'd 
 His wish by hers was echo'd; and her knights 
 And all her damsels too were gracious to him, 
 For she was a great lady. 
 
 And when they reach 'd 
 Caerleon, ere they past to lodging, she, 
 Taking his hand, "O the strong hand," she 
 
 said, 
 ^'See! look at mine! but wilt thou fight for me, 
 And win me this fine circlet, Pelleas, 
 That I may love thee?" 
 
 Then his helpless heart 
 Leapt, and he cried, "Ay, wilt thou if I win?" 
 "Ay, that will I," she answer'd, and she 
 
 laugh 'd. 
 And straitly nipt the hand, and flung it from 
 
 her; 
 Then glanced askew at those three knights of 
 
 hers. 
 Till all her ladies laugh 'd along with her. 
 
 *'0 happy world," thought Pelleas, "all, 
 meseems, 
 
272 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Are happy; I the happiest of them all. " 
 
 Nor slept that night for pleasure in his blood, 
 
 And green wood-ways, and eyes among the 
 
 leaves; 
 Then being on the morrow knighted, sware 
 To love one only. And as he came away, 
 The men who met him rounded on their heels 
 And wonder'd after him, because his face 
 Shone like the countenance of a priest of old 
 Against the flame about a sacrifice 
 Kindled by fire from heaven : so glad was he. 
 Then Arthur made vast banquets, and 
 
 strange knights 
 From the four winds came in : and each one 
 
 sat, 
 The' served with choice from air, land, stream, 
 
 and sea. 
 Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes 
 His neighbor's make and might: and Pelleas 
 
 look'd 
 Noble among the noble, for he dream 'd 
 His lady loved him, and he knew himself 
 Loved of the King: and him his new-made 
 
 knight 
 Worshipt, whose lightest whisper moved him 
 
 more 
 Than all the ranged reasons of the world. 
 
 Then blush 'd and brake the morning of the 
 
 jousts. 
 And this was call'd "The Tournament of 
 
 Youth:" 
 For Arthur, loving his 3^oung knight, withheld 
 His older and his mightier from the lists, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 273 
 
 That Pelleas might obtain his lady's love, 
 
 According to her promise, and remain 
 
 Lord of the tourney. And Arthur had the 
 
 jousts 
 Down in the fiat field by the shore of Usk 
 Holden; the gilded parapets were crown 'd 
 "With faces, and the great tower fill'd with eyes 
 Up to the summit, and the trumpets blew. 
 There all day long Sir Pelleas kept the field 
 With honor; so by that strong hand of his 
 The sword and golden circlet were achieved. 
 
 Then rang the shout his lad}^ loved : the heat 
 Of pride and glory fired her face; her eye 
 Sparkled; she caught the circlet from his 
 
 lance. 
 And there before the people crown'd herself: 
 So for the last time she was gracious to him. 
 
 Then at Caerleon for a space — her look 
 Bright for all ochers, cloudier on her knight — 
 Linger'd Ettarre: and seeing Pelleas droop, 
 Said Guinevere, "We marvel at thee much, 
 O damsel, wearing this unsunny face 
 To him who won thee glory!" And she said, 
 ' ' Had ye not held your Lancelot in your bower. 
 My Queen, he had not won." Whereat the 
 
 Queen, 
 As one whose foot is bitten by an ant, 
 Glanced down upon her, turn'd and went her 
 
 way. 
 
 But after, when her damsels, and herself, 
 And those three knights all set their faces 
 home, 
 
 38 
 
274 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Sir Pelleas follow 'd. She that saw him cried, 
 *' Damsels — and yet I should be shamed to say- 
 it— 
 I cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him back 
 Among yourselves. Would rather that we had 
 Some rough old knight who knew the worldly 
 
 way, 
 Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride 
 And jest with : take him to you, keep him off, 
 And pamper him with papmeat, if ye will, 
 Old milky fables of the wolf and sheep. 
 Such as the wholesome mothers tell their boys. 
 Nay, should ye try him with a merry one 
 To find his mettle, good : and if he fly us, 
 Small matter? let him." This her damsels 
 
 heard 
 And mindful of her small and cruel hand. 
 They, closing round him thro' the journey 
 
 home, 
 Acted her hest, and always from her side 
 Restrain'd him with all manner of device, 
 So that he could not come to speech with her. 
 And when she gain'd her castle, upsprang the 
 
 bridge, 
 Down rang the grate of iron thro' the groove. 
 And he was left alone in open field. 
 
 "These be the ways of ladies," Pelleas 
 
 thought, 
 *'To those who love them, trials of our faith. 
 Yea, let her prove me to the uttermost. 
 For loyal to the uttermost am I. " 
 So made his moan; and, darkness falling, 
 
 sought 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 275 
 
 A priory not far off, there lodged, but rose 
 With morning every day, and, moist or dry, 
 Full-arm 'd upon his charger all day long 
 Sat by the walls, and no one open'd to him. 
 
 And this persistence turn'd her scorn to 
 
 wrath, 
 Then calling her three knights, she charged 
 
 them, "Out! 
 And drive him from the walls." And out they 
 
 came. 
 But Pelleas overthrew them as they dash'd 
 Against him one by one; and these return'd. 
 But still he kept his watch beneath the wall. 
 
 Thereon her wrath became a hate ; and once, 
 A week beyond, while walking on the walls 
 With her three knights, she pointed downward, 
 
 "Look, 
 He haunts me — I cannot breathe — besieges 
 
 me; 
 Down! strike him! put my hate into your 
 
 strokes, 
 And drive him from my walls. " And down 
 
 they went. 
 And Pelleas overthrew them one by one ; 
 And from the tower above him cried Ettarre, 
 *'Bind him, and bring him in." 
 
 He heard her voice : 
 Then let the strong hand, which had over- 
 thrown 
 Her minion- knights, by those he overthrew 
 
276 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Be bounden straight, and so they brought him 
 in. 
 
 Then when he came before Ettarre, the sight 
 Of her rich beauty made him at one glance 
 More bondsman in his heart than in his bonds. 
 Yet with good cheer he spake, "Behold me, 
 
 Lady, 
 A prisoner, and the vassal of thy will; 
 And if thou keep me in thy donjon here, 
 Content am I so that I see thy face 
 But once a day : for I have sworn my vows. 
 And thou hast given thy promise, and I know 
 That all these pains are trials of my faith. 
 And that thyself, when thou hast seen me 
 
 strain 'd 
 And sifted to the utmost, wilt at length 
 Yield me thy love and know me for thy 
 
 knight." 
 
 Then she began to rail so bitterly. 
 With all her damsels, he was stricken mute ; 
 But when she mock'd his vows and the great 
 
 King, 
 Lighted on words: *'For pity of thine own self. 
 Peace, Lady, peace: is her not thine and 
 
 mine?" 
 "Thou fool, " she said, **I never heard his voice 
 But long'd to break away. Unbind him now, 
 And thrust him out of doors ; for save he be 
 Fool to the midmost marrow of his bones. 
 He will return no more." And those, her 
 
 three, 
 Laugh 'd, and unbound, and thrust him from 
 
 the gate. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 277 
 
 And after this, a week beyond, again 
 She call'd them, saying, "There he watches 
 
 yet, 
 There like a dog before his master's door! 
 Kick'd, he returns: do ye not hate him, ye? 
 Ye know yourselves: how can ye bide at peace, 
 Affronted with his fulsome innocence? 
 Are ye but creatures of the board and bed, 
 No men to strike? Fall on him all at once, 
 And if ye slay him I reck not : if ye fail. 
 Give ye the slave mine order to be bound, 
 Bind him as heretofore, and bring him in : 
 It may be ye shall slay him in his bonds." 
 
 She spake; and at her will they couch' d 
 their spears, 
 Three against one : and Gawain passing by, 
 Bound upon solitary adventure, saw 
 Low down beneath the shadow of those towers 
 A villainy, three to one: and thro' his heart 
 The fire of honor and all noble deeds 
 Flash 'd, and he call'd, "I strike upon thy side — 
 The caitiffs!" ''Nay," said Pelleas, "but for- 
 bear; 
 He needs no aid who doth his lady's wilL" 
 
 So Gawain, looking at the villainy done, 
 Forbore, but in his heat and eagerness 
 Trembled and quiver' d, as the dog, withheld 
 A moment from the vermin that he sees 
 Before him, shivers, ere he springs and kills. 
 
 And Pelleas, overthrew them, one to three; 
 And they rose up, and bound, and brought him 
 in. 
 
278 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then first her anger, leaving Pelleas, burn'd 
 Full on her knights in many an evil name 
 Of craven, weakling, and thrice-beaten hound : 
 "Yet, take him, ye that scarce are fit to touch, 
 Far less to bind, your victor, and thrust him 
 
 out, 
 And let who will release him from his bonds. 
 And if he comes again" — there she brake 
 
 short ; 
 And Pelleas answer'd, "Lady, for, indeed, 
 I loved you and I deem'd you beautiful, 
 I cannot brook to see your beauty marr'd 
 Thro' evil spite: and if ye love me not, 
 I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn : 
 I had liefer ye were worthy of my love. 
 Than to be loved again of you — farewell ; 
 And tho' ye kill my hope, not yet my love. 
 Vex not yourself: ye will not see me more.'* 
 
 While thus he spake, she gazed upon the maa 
 Of princely bearing, tho' in bonds, and 
 
 thought, 
 *'Why have I push'd him from me? this man 
 
 loves 
 If love there be: yet him I loved not. Why? 
 I deem'd him fool? yea, so? or that in him 
 A something — was it nobler than myself — 
 Seem'd my reproach? He is not of my kind. 
 He could not love me, did he know me well. 
 Nay, let him go — and quickly." And her 
 
 knights 
 Laugh 'd not, but thrust him bounden out of 
 
 door. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 279 
 
 Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed him from 
 
 his bonds, 
 And flung them o'er the walls; and afterward. 
 Shaking his hands, as from a lazar's rag, 
 "Faith of my body," he said, *'and art thou 
 
 not — 
 Yea thou art he, whom late our Arthur made 
 Knight of his table ; yea and he that won 
 The circlet? wherefore hast thou so defamed 
 Thy brotherhood in me and all the rest. 
 As let these caitiffs on thee work their will?" 
 
 And Pelleas answer 'd, "O, their wills are hers 
 For whom I won the'circlet ; and mine, hers. 
 Thus to be bounden, so to see her face, 
 Marr'd though it be with spite and mockery 
 
 now. 
 Other than when I found her in the woods ; 
 And tho' she hath me bounden but in spite, 
 And all to flout me, when they bring me in. 
 Let me be bounden, I shall see her face ; 
 Else must I die thro' mine unhappiness. " 
 
 And Gawain answer'd kindly, tho' in scorn, 
 "Why, let my lady bind me if she will, 
 And let my lady beat me if she will : 
 But an she send her delegate to thrall 
 These fighting hands of mine — Christ kill me 
 
 then 
 But I will slice him handless by the wrist, 
 And let my lady sear the stump for him. 
 Howl as he may. But hold me for your friend : 
 Come, ye know nothing: here I pledge my 
 
 troth, 
 
280 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Yea, by the honor of the Table Round, 
 I will be leal to thee and work thy work, 
 And tame thy jailing princess to thine hand. 
 Lend me thine horse and arms, and I will say 
 That I have slain thee. She will let me in 
 To hear the manner of thy fight and fall ; 
 Then, when I come within her counsels, then 
 From prime to vespers will I chant thy 
 
 praise 
 As prowest knight and truest lover, more 
 Than any have sung thee living, till she long 
 To have thee back in lusty life again, 
 Not to be bound, save by white bonds and 
 
 warm 
 Dearer than freedom. Wherefore now thy 
 
 horse 
 And armor: let me go: be comforted: 
 Give me three days to melt her fancy, and hope 
 The third night hence will bring thee news of 
 
 gold." 
 
 Then Pelleas lent his horse and all his arms, 
 Saving the goodly sword, his prize, and took 
 Gawain's, and said, "Betray me not, but help — 
 Art thou not he who men call light-of-love?" 
 
 "Ay," said Gawain, "for women be so 
 light." 
 Then bounded forward to the castle walls 
 And raised a bugle hanging from his neck. 
 And winded it, and that so musically 
 That all the old echoes hidden in the wall 
 Rang out like hollow woods at hunting-tide. 
 
Behold me, lady, a prisoner." — Page 
 
 Idylls of thu Kiu;^. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 281 
 
 Up ran a score of damsels to the tower ; 
 *'Avaunt," they cried, "our lady loves thee 
 
 not." 
 But Gawain lifting up his vizor said, 
 "Gawain am I, Gawain of Arthur's court. 
 And I have slain this Pelleas whom ye hate: 
 Behold his horse and armour. Open gates, 
 And I will make you merry. ' ' 
 
 And down they ran. 
 Her damsels, crying to their lady, "Lo! 
 Pelleas is dead — he told us — he that hath 
 His horse and armour: will ye let him in? 
 He slew him ! Gawain, Gawain of the court. 
 Sir Gav/ain — there he waits below the wall. 
 Blowing his bugle as who should say him 
 nay." 
 
 And so, leave given, straight on thro' open 
 
 door 
 Rode Gawain, whom she greeted courteously. 
 "Dead, is it so?" she ask'd. "Ay, ay," said 
 
 he, 
 "And oft in dying cried upon 37'our name." 
 "Pity on him," she answer 'd, "a good knight. 
 But never let me bide one hour at peace. ' ' 
 "Ay," thought Gawain, "and you be fair 
 
 enow : 
 But I to your dead man have given my troth. 
 That whom ye loathe, him will I make you 
 
 love. ' * 
 
 So those three days, aimless about the land. 
 Lost in a doubt, Pelleas wandering 
 
282 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Waited, until the third night brought a moon 
 With promise of large light on woods and 
 ways. 
 
 Hot was the night and silent ; but a sound 
 Of Gawain ever coming, and this lay — 
 Which Pelleas had heard sung before the 
 
 Queen, 
 And seen her sadden listening — vext his heart, 
 And marr'd his rest — "A worm within the 
 
 rose." 
 
 "A rose, but one, none other rose had I, 
 A rose, one rose, and this was wonderous fair, 
 One rose, a rose that gladden 'd earth and sky, 
 One rose, my rose, that sweenten'd all mine 
 
 air — 
 I cared not for the thorns; the thorns were 
 
 there. 
 
 "One rose, a rose to gather by and by, 
 One rose, a rose, to gather and to wear. 
 No rose but one — what other rose had I? 
 One rose, my rose ; a rose that will not die, — 
 He dies who loves it, — if the worm be there.^' 
 
 This tender rhyme, and evermore the doubt, 
 *'Why lingers Gawain with his golden news?*' 
 So shook him that he could not rest, but rode 
 Ere midnight to her walls, and bound his horse 
 Hard by the gates. Wide open were the gates. 
 And no watch kept; and in thro' these he past. 
 And heard but his own steps, and his own 
 heart 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 283 
 
 Beating, for nothing moved but his own self, 
 And his own shadow. Then he crost the court, 
 And spied not any light in hall or bower. 
 But saw the postern portal also wide 
 Yawning ; and up a slope of garden, all 
 Of roses white and red, and brambles mixt 
 And overgrowing them, went on, and found. 
 Here too, all hush'd below the mellow moon. 
 Save that one rivulet from a tiny cave 
 Came lightening downward, and so spilt itself 
 Among the roses, and was lost again. 
 
 Then was he ware of three pavilions rear'd 
 Above the bushes, gilden-peakt: in one, 
 Red after revel, domed her lurdane knights 
 Slumbering, and their three squires across 
 
 their feet: 
 In one, their malice on the placid lip 
 Froz'n by sweet sleep, four of her damsels lay: 
 And in the third, the circlet of the jousts 
 Bound on her brow, were Gawain and Ettarre. 
 
 Back, as a hand that pushes thro' the leaf 
 To find a nest and feels a snake, he drew: 
 Back, as a coward slinks from what he fears 
 To cope with, or a traitor proven, or hound 
 Beaten, did Pelleas in an utter shame 
 Creep with his shadow thro' the court again. 
 Fingering at his sword-handle until he stood 
 There on the castle-bridge once more, and 
 
 thought, 
 *'I will go back, and slay them where they lie. " 
 
 And so went back, and seeing them yet in 
 sleep 
 
284 IDYLLS OF THE KL\G. 
 
 Said, '*Ye, that so dishallow the holy sleep, 
 Your sleep is death," and drew the sword, and 
 
 thought, 
 *'What! slay a sleeping knight? the King hath 
 
 bound 
 And sworn me to this brotherhood;" again. 
 "Alas that ever a knight should be so false," 
 Then turn'd, and so return'd, and groaning laid 
 The naked sword athwart their naked throats. 
 There left it, and them sleeping; and she lay, 
 The circlet of the tourney round her brows. 
 And the sword of the tourney across her throat. 
 
 And forth he past, and mounting on his 
 horse 
 
 Stared at her towers that, larger than them- 
 selves 
 
 In their own darkness, throng'd into the moon. 
 
 Then crush 'd the saddle v/ith his thighs, 
 clench 'd 
 
 His hands, and m^addeu'd with himself and 
 moaned. 
 
 "Would they have risen against me in their 
 
 blood 
 At the last day? I might have answer'd them 
 Even before high God. O towers so strong, 
 Huge, solid, would that even while I gaze 
 The crack of earthquake shivering to your 
 
 base 
 Split you, and hell burst up your harlot roofs 
 Bellowing, and charr'd you thro' and thro' 
 
 within. 
 Black as the harlot' s'heart — hollow as a skull! 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 285 
 
 Let the fierce east scream thro' your eyelet- 
 holes, 
 And whirl the dust of harlots round and round 
 In dung- and nettles! hiss, snake — I saw him 
 
 there — 
 Let the fox bark, let the wolf yell. Who yells 
 Here in the still sweet summer night, but I — 
 I, the poor Pelleas whom she call'd her fool? 
 Fool, beast — he, she, or I? myself most fool! 
 Beast too, as lacking human wit — disgraced. 
 Dishonour' d all for trial of true love — 
 Love? — we be all alike: only the King 
 Hath made us fools and liars. O noble vows 
 
 great and sane and simple race of brutes 
 That own no lust because they have no law ! 
 For why should I have loved her to my shame? 
 
 1 loathe her, as I loved her to my shame. 
 I never loved her, I but lusted for her — 
 Away—" 
 
 He dash'd the rowel into his horse 
 And bounded forth and vanish 'd thro' the night. 
 
 Then she, that felt the cold touch on her 
 
 throat, 
 Awakening knew the sword, and turn'd herself 
 To Gawain: "Liar, for thou hast not slain 
 This Pelleas ! here he stood, and might have 
 
 slain 
 Me and thyself." And he that tells the tale 
 Says that her ever- veering fancy turn'd 
 To Pelleas, as the one true knight on earth. 
 And only lover; and thro' her love her life 
 Wasted and pined, desiring him in vain. 
 
286 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But he by wild and way, for half the night, 
 And over head and soft, striking the sod 
 From out the soft, the spark from off the hard. 
 Rode till the star above the wakening snn, 
 Beside that tower where Percivale was cowl'd. 
 Glanced from the rosy forehead of the dawn. 
 For so the words were flash'd into his heart 
 He knew not whence or wherefore: *'0 sweet 
 
 star, 
 Pure on the virgin forehead of the dawn!*' 
 And there he would have wept, but felt his eyes 
 Harder and drier than a fountain bed 
 In summer: thither came the village girls 
 And linger'd talking, and they come no more 
 Till the sweet heavens have fill'd it from the 
 
 heights 
 Again with living waters in the change 
 Of seasons: hard his eyes; harder his heart 
 Seem'd; but so weary were his limbs, that he, 
 Gasping, "Of Arthur's hall am I, but here, 
 Here let me rest and die," cast himself down. 
 And gulf 'd his griefs in inmost sleep; so lay, 
 Till shaken by a dream, that Gawain fired 
 The hall of Merlin, and the morning star 
 Reel'd in the smoke, brake into flame, and fell. 
 
 He woke, and being ware of some one nigh. 
 Sent hands upon him, as to tear him, crying, 
 *' False! and I held thee pure as Guinevere. ' ' 
 
 But Percivale stood near him and replied, 
 "Am I but false as Guinevere is pure? 
 Or art thou mazed with dreams? or being one 
 Of our free-spoken Table hast not heard 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 287 
 
 That Lancelot" — there he check'd himself and 
 paused. 
 
 Then fared it with Sir Pelleas as with one 
 Who gets a wound in battle, and the sword 
 That made it plunges thro' the wound again. 
 And pricks it deeper: and he shrank and wail'd, 
 *'Is the Queen false?" and Percivale was mute. 
 "Have any of our Round Table held their 
 
 vows?" 
 And Percivale made answer not a word. 
 "Is the King true?" "The King!" said Per- 
 civale. 
 "Why then let men couple at once with wolves. 
 What! art thou mad?" 
 
 But Pelleas, leaping up, 
 Ran thro' the doors and vaulted on his horse 
 And fled: small pity upon his horse had he, 
 Or on himself, or any, and when he met 
 A cripple, one that held a hand for alms — 
 Hunch 'd as he was, and like an old dwarf- 
 elm 
 That turns its back on the salt blast, the boy 
 Paused not, but overrode him, shouting, "False, 
 And false with Gawain !" and so left him bruised 
 And batter'd, and fled on, and hill and wood 
 Went ever streaming by him till the gloom. 
 That follows on the turning of the world. 
 Darken 'd the common path: he twitch 'd the 
 
 reins, 
 And made his beast that better knew it, swerve 
 Now off it and now on ; but when he saw 
 High up in heaven the hall that Merlin built. 
 
288 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Blackening against the dead-green stripes of 
 
 even, 
 *' Black nest of rats," he groan'd, "ye build too 
 
 high." 
 
 Not long thereafter from the city gates 
 Issued Sir Lancelot riding airily, 
 Warm with a gracious parting from the Queen, 
 Peace at his heart, and gazing at a star 
 And marvelling what it was : on whom the boy 
 Across the silent seeded mellow-grass 
 Borne, clash'd: and Lancelot, saying, "What 
 
 name hast thou 
 That ridest here so blindly and so hard?" 
 *'I have no name," he shouted, "a scourge 
 
 am I, 
 To lash the treasons of the Table Round." 
 * ' Yea, but thy name ? " "I have many names, ' ' 
 
 he cried: 
 *'I am wrath and shame and hate and evil fame, 
 And like a poisonous wind I pass to blast 
 And blaze the crime of Lancelot and the 
 
 Queen." 
 *' First over me," said Lancelot, "shalt thou 
 
 pass." 
 *' Fight, therefore," yell'd the other, and either 
 
 knight 
 Drew back a space, and when they closed, at 
 
 once 
 The weary steed of Pelleas floundering flung 
 His rider, who call'd out from the dark field, 
 *'Thou art false as Hell: slay me: I have no 
 
 sword. ' ' 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 289 
 
 Then Lancelot, "Yea, between thy lips— and 
 
 sharp ; 
 Bat here will I disedge it by thy death." 
 *'Slay then," he shriek'd, "my will is to be 
 
 slain." 
 And Lancelot, with his heel upon the fall'n, 
 Rolling his eyes, a moment stood, then spake; 
 "Rise, weakling; I am Lancelot; say thy 
 
 say." 
 
 And Lancelot slowly rode his warhorse back 
 To Camelot, and Sir Pelleas in brief while 
 Caught his unbroken limbs from the dark field, 
 And follow'd to the city. It chanced that both 
 Brake into hall together, worn and pale. 
 There with her knights and dames was Guine- 
 vere. 
 Full wonderingly she gazed on Lancelot 
 So soon return 'd, and then on Pelleas, him 
 Who had not greeted her, but cast himself 
 Down on a bench, hard breathing. "Have ye 
 
 fought?" 
 She ask'd of Lancelot. "Ay, my Queen," he 
 said. 
 
 **And thou hast overthrown him?" "Ay, my 
 
 Queen." 
 Then she, turning to Pelleas, "O young knight. 
 Hath the great heart of knighthood in thee 
 
 fail'd 
 So far thou canst not bide, unfrowardly, 
 A fall from him?" Then, for he answer'd 
 
 not, 
 "Or hast thou other griefs? If I, the Queen, 
 
 19 Idylls 
 
290 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 May help them, loose thy tongue, and let me 
 
 know." 
 But Pelleas lifted up an eye so fierce 
 Shequail'd; and he, hissing "I have no sword," 
 Sprang from the door into the dark. The Queen 
 Look'd hard upon her lover, he on her; 
 And each foresaw the dolorous day to be : 
 And all talk died, as in a grove all song 
 Beneath the shadow of some bird of prey; 
 Then a long silence came upon the hall. 
 And Modred thought, "The time is hard at 
 
 hand." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 291 
 
 THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 
 
 Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood 
 Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table 
 
 Round, 
 At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods, 
 Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall. 
 And toward him from the hall, with harp in 
 
 hand. 
 And from the crown thereof a carcanet 
 Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize 
 Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday. 
 Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir 
 Fool?" 
 
 For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once 
 Far down beneath a winding wall of rock 
 Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead. 
 From roots like some black coil of carven 
 
 snakes, 
 Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid air 
 Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the tree 
 Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind 
 Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree 
 Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest, 
 This ruby necklace thrice around her neck. 
 And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought 
 A maiden babe ; which Arthur pitying took. 
 Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen 
 
292 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms 
 Received, and after loved it tenderly, 
 And named it Nestling ; so forgot herself 
 A moment, and her cares; till that young life 
 Being smitten in mid-heaven with mortal cold 
 Past from her; and in time the carcanet 
 Vext her with plaintive memories of the child: 
 So she, delivering it to Arthur, said, 
 "Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence. 
 And make them, as thou wilt, a tourney-prize. ' ' 
 
 To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle- 
 borne 
 Dead nestling, and this honor after death, 
 Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse 
 Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone 
 Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn 
 And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to 
 wear. " 
 
 "Would rather you had let them fall," she 
 
 cried, 
 "Plunge and be lost — ill-fated as they were, 
 A bitterness to me ! — ye look amazed, 
 Not knowing they were lost as soon as given — 
 Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out 
 Above the river — that unhappy child 
 Past in her barge : but rosier luck will go 
 With these rich jewels, seeing that they came 
 Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer. 
 But the sweet body of a maiden babe. 
 Perchance — who knows? — the purest of thy 
 
 knights 
 May win them for the purest of my maids." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 293 
 
 She ended, and the cry of a great joust 
 With trumpet-blowings ran. on all the ways 
 From Camelot in among the faded fields 
 To furthest towers; and everywhere the 
 
 knights 
 Arm'd for a day of glory before the King. 
 
 But on the hither side of that loud morn 
 Into the hall stagger 'd, his visage ribb'd 
 From ear to ear with dogwhip-weals, his nose 
 Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one hand off, 
 And one with shatter'd fingers dangling lame, 
 A churl, to whom indignantly the King, 
 
 '*My churl, for whom Christ died, what evil 
 
 beast 
 Hath drawn his claws athwart thy face? or 
 
 fiend? 
 Man was it who marr'd heaven's image in thee 
 
 thus?" 
 
 Then, sputtering thro' the hedge of splinter'd 
 
 teeth. 
 Yet strangers to the tongue, and with blunt 
 
 stump 
 Pitch-blacken'd sawing the air, said the maim'd 
 
 churl, 
 
 "He took them and he drave them to his 
 tower — 
 Some hold he was a table-knight of thine — 
 A hundred goodly ones — the Red Knight, he — 
 Lord, I was tending swine, and the Red Knight 
 Brake in upon me and drave them to his tower ; 
 
294 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And when I call'd upon thy name as one 
 That doest right by gentle and by churl, 
 Maim'd me and maul'd, and would outright 
 
 have slain, 
 Save that he sware me to a message, saying, 
 *Tell thou the King and all his liars, that I 
 Have founded my Round Table in the North, 
 And whatsoever his own knights have sworn 
 My knights have sworn the counter to it — and 
 
 say 
 My tower is full of harlots, like his court. 
 But mine are worthier, seeing they profess 
 To be none other than themselves — and say 
 My knights are all adulterers like his own. 
 But mine are truer, seeing they profess 
 To be none other; and say his hour is come, 
 The heathen are upon him, his long lance 
 Broken, and his Excalibur a straw.' " 
 
 Then Arthur turn'd to Kay, the seneschal, 
 *'Take thou my churl, and tend him curiously 
 Like a king's heir, till all his hurts be 
 
 whole. 
 The heathen — but that ever-climbing wave, 
 Hurl'd back again so often in empty foam, 
 Hath lain for years at rest — and renegades. 
 Thieves, bandits, leavings of confusion, whom 
 The wholesome realm is purged of otherwhere, 
 Friends, thro' your manhood and your fealty, 
 
 — now 
 Make their last head like Satan in the North. 
 My 3^ounger knights, new-made, in whom your 
 
 flower 
 Waits to be solid fruit of golden deeds, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 295 
 
 Move with me toward their quelling, which 
 
 achieved, 
 The loneliest ways are safe from shore to shore. 
 But thou, Sir Lancelot, sitting in my place 
 Enchair'd to-morrow, arbitrate the field; 
 For wherefore shouldst thou care to mingle 
 
 with it, 
 Only to yield my Queen her own again? 
 Speak, Lancelot, thou art silent: is it well?" 
 
 Thereto Sir Lancelot answer'd, "It is well: 
 Yet better if the King abide, and leave 
 The leading of his younger knights to me. 
 Else, for the King has will'd it, it is well.'* 
 
 Then Arthur rose and Lancelot follow'd him. 
 And while they stood without the doors, the 
 
 King 
 Turn'd to him, saying, "Is it then so well? 
 Or mine the blame that oft I seem as he 
 Of whom was written, 'A sound is in his ears'? 
 The foot that loiters, bidden go, — the glance 
 That only seems half -loyal to command. — 
 A manner somewhat fall'n from reverence — 
 Or have I dream 'd the bearing of our knights 
 Tells of a manhood ever less and lower? 
 Or whence the fear lest this my realm, up- 
 
 rear'd. 
 By noble deeds at one with noble vows, 
 From flat confusion and brute violences. 
 Reel back into the beast, and be no more?" 
 
 He spoke, and taking all his younger knights,. 
 Down the slope city rode, and sharply turn'd 
 
296 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 North by the gate. In her high bower the 
 
 Queen, 
 Working a tapestry, lifted up her head, 
 Watch'd her lord pass, and knew not that she 
 
 sigh'd. 
 Then ran across her memory the strange rhyme 
 Of b3^gone Merlin, "Where is he who knows? 
 From the great deep to the great deep he goes. ' ' 
 
 But when the morning of a tournament. 
 By these in earnest those in mockery call'd 
 The Tournament of the Dead Innocence, 
 Brake with a wet wind blowing, Lancelot, 
 Round whose sick head all night, like birds of 
 
 prey. 
 The words of Arthur flying shriek'd, arose, 
 And down a streetway hung with folds of pure 
 White samite, and by fountains running wine, 
 Where children sat in white with cups of gold, 
 Moved to the' lists, and there, with slow sad 
 
 steps 
 Ascending, fill'd his double-dragon'd chair. 
 
 He glanced and saw the stately galleries. 
 Dame, damsel, each thro' worship of their 
 
 Queen 
 White-robed in honor of the stainless child, 
 And some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank 
 Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire. 
 He look'd but once, and vail'd his eyes again. 
 
 The sudden trumpet sounded as in a dream 
 To ears but half-awaked, then one low roll 
 Of Autumn thunder, and the jousts began ; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 297 
 
 And ever the wind blew, and yellowing leaf 
 And gloom and gleam, and shower and shorn 
 
 plume 
 Went down it. Sighing weariedly, as one 
 Who sits and gazes on a faded fire, 
 When all the goodlier guests are past away, 
 Sat their great umpire, looking o'er the lists. 
 He saw the laws that ruled the tournam.ent 
 Broken, but spake not; once, a knight cast 
 
 down 
 Before his throne of arbitration cursed 
 The dead babe and the follies of the King; 
 And once the laces of a helmet crack'd, 
 And show'd him, like a vermin in its hole, 
 Modred, a narrow face : anon he heard 
 The voice that billow'd round the barriers roar 
 An ocean- sounding welcome to one knight, 
 But newly-enter'd, taller than the rest, 
 And armor'd all in forest green, whereon 
 There tript a hundred tiny silver deer. 
 And wearing but a holly-spray for crest, 
 With ever-scattering berries, and on shield 
 A spear, a harp, a bugle — Tristram — late 
 From overseas in Brittany return 'd. 
 And marriage with a princess of that realm, 
 Isolt the White — Sir Tristram of the Woods — 
 Whom Lancelot knew, had held sometime 
 
 with pain 
 His own against him, and now yearn'd to shake 
 The burthen off his heart in one full shock 
 With Tristram ev'n to death: his strong hands 
 
 gript 
 And dinted the gilt dragons right and left, 
 Until he groan 'd for wrath — so many of those, 
 
 20 Idylls 
 
298 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 That ware their ladies' colors on the casque, 
 Drew from before Sir Tristram to the bounds, 
 And there with gibes and flickering mockeries 
 Stood, while he mutter 'd, "Craven crests! O 
 
 shame! 
 What faith have these in whom they sware to 
 
 love? 
 The glory of our Round Table is no more." 
 
 So Tristram won, and Lancelot gave, the 
 gems, 
 Not speaking other word than "Hast thou 
 
 won? 
 Art thou the purest, brother? See, the,hand 
 Wherewith thou takest this, is red!" to whom 
 Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot's languor- 
 ous mood, 
 Made answer, "Ay, but wherefore toss me this 
 Like a dry bone cast to some hungry hound? 
 Let be thy fair Queen's fantasy. Strength of 
 
 heart 
 And might of limb, but mainly use and skill, 
 Are winners in this pastime of our King. 
 My hand — belike the lance hath dript upon it — 
 No blood of mine, I trow : but O chief knight, 
 Right arm of Arthur in the battlefield. 
 Great brother, thou nor I have made the 
 
 world ; 
 - Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in mine. " 
 
 And Tristram round the gallery made his 
 horse 
 Caracole; then bowed his homage, bluntly 
 saying, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 299 
 
 *'Fair damsels, each to him who worships each 
 Sole Queen of Beauty and of love, behold 
 This day my Queen of Beauty is not here." 
 And most of these were mute, some anger'd, 
 
 one 
 Murmuring, "All courtesy is dead," and one 
 * ' The glory of our Round Table is no more. ' ' 
 
 Then fell thick rain, plume droopt and man- 
 tle clung 
 And pettish cries awoke, and the wan day 
 Went glooming down in wet and weariness: 
 But under her black brows a swarthy one 
 Laugh'd shrilly, crying, "Praise the patient 
 
 saints, 
 Our one white day of Innocence hath past, 
 Tho' somewhat draggled at the skirt. So- 
 
 be it. 
 The snowdrop only, flowering thro' the year. 
 Would make the world as blank as Winter-tide. 
 Come — let us gladden their sad eyes, our 
 
 Queen's 
 And Lancelot's, at this night's solemnity 
 With all the kindlier colors of the field." 
 
 So dame and damsel glitter' d at the feast 
 Variously gay : for he that tells the tale 
 Liken 'd them, saying, as when an hour of cold 
 Falls on the mountain in midsummer snows. 
 And all the purple slopes of mountain flowers 
 Pass under white, till the warm hour returns 
 With veer of wind, and all are flowers again ; 
 So dame and damsel cast the simple white, 
 And glowing in all colors, the live grass, 
 
300 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Rose-campion, bluebell, kingcup, poppy, 
 
 glanced 
 About the revels, and with mirth so loud 
 Beyond all use, that, half- amazed, the Queen, 
 And wroth at Tristram and the lawless jousts. 
 Brake up their sports, then slowly to her bower 
 Parted, and in her bosom pain was lord. 
 
 And little Dagonet on the morrow morn. 
 High over all the yellowing Autumn- tide. 
 Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall. 
 Then Tristram saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir 
 
 Fool.?" 
 Wheel'd round on either heel, Dagonet replied, 
 * ' Belike for lack of wiser company ; 
 Or being fool, and seeing too much wit 
 Makes the world rotten, why, belike I skip 
 To know myself the wisest knight of all. ' ' 
 "Ay, fool," said Tristram, "but 'tis eating dry 
 To dance without a catch, a roundelay 
 To dance to. " Then he twangled on his harp. 
 And while he twangled little Dagonet stood 
 'Quiet as any water-sodden log 
 Stay'd in the wandering warble of a brook; 
 But when the twangling ended, skipt again; 
 And being ask' d, "Why skipt ye not, Sir Fool?" 
 Made answer, "I had liefer twenty years 
 Skip to the broken music of my brains 
 Than any broken music thou canst make. " 
 Then Tristram, waiting for the quip to come, 
 *'Good now, what music have I broken, fool?" 
 And little Dagonet, skipping, "Arthur, the 
 
 King's; 
 For when thou playest that air with Queen Isolt, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 301 
 
 Thou makest broken music with thy bride, 
 Her daintier namesake down in Brittany — 
 And so thou breakest Arthur's music too." 
 "Save for that broken music in thy brains, 
 Sir Fool," said Tristram, "I would break thy 
 
 head. 
 Fool, I came late, the heathen wars were o'er^ 
 The life had flown, we sware but by the shell — 
 I am but a fool to reason with a fool — 
 Come, thou art crabb'd and sour: but lean me 
 
 down, 
 Sir Dagonet, one of thy long asses' ears, 
 And harken if my music be not true. 
 
 " 'Free love — free field — we love but while 
 
 we may; 
 The woods are hush'd, their music is no merer 
 The leaf is dead, the yearning past away: 
 New leaf, new life — the days of frost are o'err. 
 New life, new love, to suit the newer day: 
 New loves are sweet as those that went before : 
 Free love — free field — we love but "while we- 
 
 may. ' 
 
 "Ye might have moved slow-measured to my 
 tune. 
 Not stood stockstill. I made it in the woods,. 
 And heard it ring as true as tested gold." 
 
 But Dagonet with one foot poised in his 
 hand, 
 "Friend, did ye mark that fountain yesterday- 
 Made to run wine? — but this had run itself 
 All out like a long life to a sour end — 
 
302 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And them that round it sat with golden cups 
 To hand the wine to whosoever came — 
 The twelve small damosels white as Innocence, 
 In honor of poor Innocence the babe. 
 Who left the gems which Innocence the Queen 
 Lent to the King, and Innocence the King 
 Gave for a prize — and one of those white slips 
 Handed her cup and piped, the pretty one, 
 * Drink, drink. Sir Fool, ' and thereupon I drank. 
 Spat — pish — the cup was gold, the draught was 
 mud." 
 
 And Tristram, "Was it muddier than thy 
 
 gibes? 
 Is all the laughter gone dead out of thee? — 
 Not marking how the knighthood mock thee 
 
 fool— 
 *Fear God: honor the King — his one true 
 
 knight — 
 Sole follower of the vows' — for here be they 
 Who knew thee swine enow before I came. 
 Smuttier than blasted grain: but when the 
 
 King 
 Had made thee fool thy vanity so shot up 
 It frighted all free fool from out thy heart; 
 Which left thee less than fool, and less than 
 
 swine, 
 A naked aught — yet swine I hold thee still. 
 For I have flung thee pearls and find thee 
 
 swine. ' ' 
 
 And little Dagonet mincing with his feet, 
 ** Knight, an ye fling those rubies round my 
 neck 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 303 
 
 In lieu of hers, I'll hold thou hast some touch 
 Of music, since I care not for thy pearls. 
 Swine? I have wallow'd, I have wash'd— the 
 
 world 
 Is flesh and shadow— I have had my day. 
 The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kmd 
 Hath foul'd me— an I wallow'd, then I wash'd— 
 I have had my day and my philosophies— 
 And thank the Lord I am King Arthur's fooL 
 Swine, say ye? swine, goats, asses, rams and 
 
 geese 
 Troop'd round a Paynim harper once, who 
 
 thrumm'd 
 On such a wire as musically as thou 
 Some such fine song— but never a king's fool." 
 
 And Tristram, "Then were swane, goats, 
 asses, geese 
 The wiser fools, seeing thy Paynim bard 
 Had such a mastery of his mystery 
 That he could harp his wife up out of hell." 
 
 Then Dagonet, turning on the ball of his 
 
 foot, ^ 
 
 "And with her harp'st thou thine? down! and 
 
 thyself 
 Down ! and two more : a helpful harper thou 
 That harp'st downward! Dost thou know the 
 
 star 
 We call the harp of Arthur up in heaven? ' 
 
 And Tristram, "Ay, Sir Fool, for when our 
 King 
 Was victor wellnigh day by day, the knights, 
 
304 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Glorying in each new glory, set his name 
 High on all hills, and in the signs of heaven." 
 
 And Dagonet answer 'd, "Ay, and when the 
 land 
 Was freed, and the Oueen false, ye set your- 
 self 
 To babble about him, all to show your wit — 
 And whether he were King by courtesy, 
 Or King by right — and so went harping down 
 The black king's highway, got so far, and 
 
 grew 
 So witty that ye play'd at ducks and drakes 
 With Arthur's vows on the great lake of fire. 
 Tuwhoo! do ye see it? do ye see the star?" 
 
 '*Nay, fool," said Tristram, "not in open 
 day." 
 And Dagonet, "Nay, nor will; I see it and 
 
 hear. 
 It makes a silent music up in heaven, 
 And I, and Arthur and the angels hear, 
 And then we skip." "Lo, fool," he said, "ye 
 
 talk 
 Fool's treason: is the King thy brother fool?" 
 Then little Dagonet clapt his hands and 
 
 shrill'd, 
 "Ay, ay, my brother fool, the king of fools! 
 Conceits himself as God that he can make 
 Figs out of thistles, silk from bristles, milk 
 From burning spurge, honey from hornet- 
 combs. 
 And men from beasts — Long live the king of 
 fools!" 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 305 
 
 And down the city Dagonet danced away; 
 But thro' the slowly-mellowing avenues 
 And solitary passes of the wood 
 Rode Tristram toward Lyonnesse and the 
 
 west. 
 Before him fled the face of Queen Isolt 
 With ruby-circled neck, but evermore 
 Past, as a rustle or twitter in the wood 
 Made dull his inner, keen his outer eye 
 For all that walk'd, or crept, or perch 'd, or 
 
 flew. 
 Anon the face, as, when a gust hath blown, 
 Unrufliing waters re-collect the shape 
 Of one that in them sees himself, return'd; 
 But at the slot or fewmets of a deer. 
 Or ev'n a fall'n feather, vanish'd again. 
 
 So on for all that day from lawn to lawn 
 Thro"* many a league-long bower he rode. At 
 
 length 
 A lodge of intertwisted beechen boughs 
 Furze-cramm'd, and bracken-roof t, the which 
 
 himself 
 Built for a summer day with Queen Isolt 
 Against a shower, dark in the golden grove 
 Appearing, sent his fancy back to where 
 She lived a moon in that low lodge with him : 
 Till Mark her lord had past, the Cornish 
 
 King, 
 With six or seven, when Tristram was away, 
 And snatch'd her thence; 3^et dreading worse 
 
 than shame 
 Her warrior Tristram, spake not any word, 
 But bode his hour, devising wretchedness. 
 
 20 
 
306 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And now that desert lod^e to Tristram lookt 
 So sweet, that halting, in he past, and sank 
 Down on a rift of foliage random -blown; 
 But could not rest for musing how to smoothe 
 And sleek his marriage over to the Queen. 
 Perchance in lone Tintagil far from all 
 The tonguesters of the court she had not 
 
 heard. 
 But then what folly had sent him over seas 
 After she left him lonely here? a name? 
 Was it the name of one in Brittany, 
 Isolt, the daughter of the King? "Isolt 
 Of the white hands" they call'd her: the sweet 
 
 name 
 Allured him first, and then the maid herself, 
 Who served him well with those white hands 
 
 of hers. 
 And loved him well, until himself had thought 
 He loved her also, wedded easily. 
 But left her all as easily, and return'd. 
 The black-blue Irish hair and Irish eyes 
 Had drawn him home — what marvel? then he 
 
 laid 
 His brows upon the drifted leaf and dream'd. 
 
 He seem'd to pace the strand of Brittany 
 Between Isolt of Britain and his bride. 
 And show'd them both the ruby-chain, and 
 
 both 
 Began to struggle for it, till his Queen 
 Graspt it so hard, that all her hand was red. 
 Then cried the Breton, "Look, her hand is red! 
 These be no rubies, this is frozen blood, 
 And melts within her hand — her hand is hot 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 307 
 
 With ill desires, but this I gave thee, look, 
 Is all as cool and white as any flower. ' ' 
 FoUow'd a rush of eagle's wings, and then 
 A whimpering of the spirit of the child, 
 Because the twain had spoil'd her carcanet. 
 
 He dream'd; but Arthur with a hundred 
 
 spears 
 Rode far, till o'er the illimitable reed. 
 And many a glancing plash and sallowy isle, 
 The wide-wing'd sunset of the misty marsh 
 Glared on a huge machicolated tower 
 That stood with open doors, whereout was 
 
 roll'd 
 A roar of riot, as from men secure 
 Amid their marshes, ruffians at their ease 
 Among their harlot brides, an evil song. 
 *'Lo there," said one of Arthur's youth, for 
 
 there, 
 High on a grim dead tree before the tower, 
 A goodly brother of the Table Round 
 Swung by the neck : and on the boughs a shield 
 Showing a shower of blood in a field noir. 
 And therebeside a horn, inflamed the knights 
 At that dishonor done the gilded spur. 
 Till each would clash the shield, and blow the 
 
 horn. 
 But Arthur waved them back. Alone he rode. 
 Then at the dry harsh roar of the great horn, 
 That sent the face of all the marsh aloft 
 An ever upward-rushing storm and cloud 
 Of shriek and plume, the Red Knight heard, 
 
 and all. 
 Even to tipmost lance and topmost helm. 
 
308 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 In blood-red armor sallying, howl'd to the 
 King, 
 
 "The teeth of Hell flay bare and gnash thee 
 
 flat!— 
 Lo ! art thou not that eunuch-hearted King 
 Who fain had clipt free manhood from the 
 
 world — 
 The woman- worshiper? Yea, God's curse, 
 
 and I ! 
 Slain was the brother of my paramour 
 By a knight of thine, and I that heard her 
 
 whine 
 And snivel, being eunuch-hearted too, 
 Sware by the scorpion- worm that twists in 
 
 hell. 
 And stings itself to everlasting death, 
 To hang whatever knight of thine I fought 
 And tumbled. Art thou King? — Look to thy 
 
 life!" 
 He ended : Arthur knew the voice ; the face 
 Wellnigh was helmet-hidden, and the name 
 Went wandering somewhere darkling in his 
 
 mind. 
 And Arthur deign 'd not use of word or sword, 
 But let the drunkard, as he stretched from 
 
 horse 
 To strike him, overbalancing his bulk, 
 Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp 
 Fall, as the crest of some slow-arching wave. 
 Heard in dead night along that table-shore, 
 Drops flat, and after the great waters break 
 Whitening for half a league, and thin them- 
 selves. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 309 
 
 Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud, 
 From less and less to nothing ; thus he fell 
 Head-heavy; then the knights, who watch 'd 
 
 him, roar'd 
 And shouted and leapt down upon the fall'n; 
 There trampled out his face from being known, 
 And sank his head in mire, and slimed them- 
 selves : 
 Nor heard the King for their own cries, but 
 
 sprang 
 Thro' open doors, and swording right and left 
 Men, women, on their sodden faces, hurl'd 
 The tables over and the wines, and slew 
 Till all the rafters rang with woman-yells, 
 And all the pavement stream 'd with massacre; 
 Then, yell with yell echoing, they fired the 
 
 tower, 
 Which half that autumn night, like the live 
 
 North, 
 Red-pulsing up thro' Alioth and Alcor, 
 Made all above it, and a hundred meres 
 About it, as the water Moab saw 
 Come round by the East, and out beyond them 
 
 flush'd 
 The long low dune, and lazy-plunging sea. 
 
 So all the ways were safe from shore to shore, 
 But in the heart of Arthur pain was lord. 
 
 Then, out of Tristram waking, the red dream 
 Fled with a shout, and that low lodge return'd, 
 Mid- forest, and the wind among the boughs. 
 He whistled his good warhorse left to graze 
 Among the forest greens, vaulted upon him, 
 
310 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And rode beneath an ever-showering leaf, 
 Till one lone woman, weeping near a cross, 
 Stay'd him. "Why w^eep ye?" "Lord," she 
 
 said, "my man 
 Hath left me or is dead ;" whereon he thought — 
 "What, if she hate me now? I would not this. 
 What, if she love me still? I would not that. 
 I know not what I would" — but said to her, 
 "Yet weep not thou, lest, if thy mate return, 
 He find thy favor changed and love thee not" — 
 Then pressing day by day thro' Lyonnesse 
 Last in a rooky hollow, belling, heard, 
 The hounds of Mark, and felt the goodly 
 
 hounds 
 Yelp at his heart, but turning, past and gain'd 
 Tintagil, half in sea, and high on land 
 A crown of towers. 
 
 Down in a casement sat, 
 A low sea-sunset glorying round her hair 
 And glossy- throated grace, Isolt the Queen. 
 And when she heard the feet of Tristram grind 
 The spiring stone that scaled above her tower. 
 Flush 'd, started, met him at the doors, and 
 
 there 
 Belted his body, with her white .emba;;ac^ 
 Crying aloud, "Not Mark— not Mark, my soul! 
 The footstep fiutter'd me at first: not he: 
 Catlike thro' his own castle steals my Mark, 
 But warrior- wise thou stridest thro' his halls 
 Who hates thee, as I him — ev'n to the death. 
 My soul, I felt my hatred for my Mark 
 Quicken within me, and knew that thou wert 
 
 nigh." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 311 
 
 To whom Sir Tristram smiling, "I am here. 
 Let be my Mark, seeing he is not thine. ' ' 
 And drawing somewhat backward she replied, 
 **Can he be wrong'd who is not ev'n his own, 
 But save for dread of thee had beaten me, 
 Scratch'd, bitten, blinded, marr'd me somehow 
 
 —Mark? 
 What rights are his that dare not strike for 
 
 them? 
 Not lift a hand — not, tho' he found me thus! 
 But harken! have ye met him? hence he went 
 To-day for three days' hunting — as he said — 
 And so returns belike within an hour. 
 Mark's way, my soul! — but eat not thou with 
 
 Mark, 
 Because he hates thee even more than fears : 
 Nor drink; and when thou passest any wood 
 Close vizor, lest an arrow from the bush 
 vShould leave me all alone with Mark and hell. 
 My God, the measure of my hate for Mark 
 Is as the measure of my love for thee. ' ' 
 
 So, pluck 'd one way by hate and one by love, 
 Drain 'd of her force, again she sat, and spake 
 To Tristram, as he knelt before her, saying, 
 '*0 hunter, and O blower of the horn, 
 Harper, and thou hast been a rover too, 
 For, ere I mated with my shambling king, 
 Ye twain had fallen out about the bride 
 Of one — his name is out of me — the prize. 
 If prize she were — (what marvel — she could 
 
 see) — 
 Thine, friend; and ever since my craven seeks 
 
312 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 To wreck thee villainously : but, O Sir Knight, 
 What dame or damsel have ye kneel'd to last?" 
 
 And Tristram, "Last to my Queen Para- 
 mount, 
 Here now to my Queen Paramount of love 
 And loveliness — ay, lovelier than when first 
 Her light feet fell on our rough Lyonnesse, 
 Sailing from Ireland." 
 
 Softly laugh'd Isolt; 
 "Flatter me not, for hath not our great Queen 
 My dole of beauty trebled?" and he said, 
 "Her beauty is her beauty, and thine thine, 
 And thine is more to me — soft, gracious, kind — 
 Save when thy Mark is kindled on thy lips 
 Most gracious: but she, haughty, ev'n to him, 
 Lancelot; for I have seen him wan enow 
 To make one doubt if ever the great Queen 
 Have yielded him her love. " 
 
 To whom Isolt, 
 "Ah, then, false hunter and false harper, thou 
 Who brakest thro' the scruple of my bond, 
 Calling me thy white hind, and saying to me 
 That Guinevere had sinn'd against the highest, 
 And I — misyoked with such a want of man — 
 That I could hardly sin against the lowest. ' ' 
 
 He answer' d, "O my soul, be comforted! 
 If this be sweet, to sin in leading-strings, 
 If here be comfort, and if ours be sin. 
 Crown 'd warrant had we for the crowning 
 
 sin 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KLNG. 313 
 
 That made us happy : but how ye greet me — 
 
 fear 
 And fault and doubt — no word of that fond 
 
 tale — 
 Thy deep heart-yearnings, thy sweet memories 
 Of Tristram in that year he was away, " 
 
 And, saddening on the sudden, spake Isolt, 
 '*I had forgotten all in my strong joy 
 To see thee — yearnings? — ay! for, hour by 
 
 hour, 
 Here in the never-ended afternoon, 
 O sweeter than all memories of thee, 
 Deeper than any yearnings after thee 
 Seem'd those far-rolling, w^estward- smiling 
 
 seas. 
 Watch 'd from this tower. Isolt of Britain 
 
 dash'd 
 Before Isolt of Brittany on the strand, 
 Would that have chill'd her bride-kiss? Wed- 
 ded her? 
 Fought in her father's battles? wounded 
 
 there? 
 The King was all fulfill' d with gratefulness, 
 And' she, my namesake of the hands, that 
 
 heal'd 
 Thy hurt and heart with unguent and caress — 
 Well — can I wish her any huger wrong 
 Than having known thee? her too hast thou 
 
 left 
 To pine and waste in those sweet memories. 
 O were I not my Mark's, by whom all men 
 Are noble, I should hate thee more than 
 
 love." 
 
314 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And Tristram, fondling her light hands, re- 
 plied, 
 
 *' Grace, Queen, for being loved; she loved me 
 well. 
 
 Did I love her? the name at least I loved. 
 
 Isolt? — I fought his battles, for Isolt! 
 
 The night was dark ; the true star set. Isolt ! 
 
 The name was ruler of the dark — Isolt? 
 
 Care not for her! patient, and prayerful, meek, 
 
 Pale-blooded, she will yield herself to God." 
 
 And Isolt answer 'd, "Yea, and why not I? 
 Mine is the larger need who am not meek. 
 Pale-blooded, prayerful. Let me tell thee now. 
 Here one black, mute midsummer night I sat. 
 Lonely, but musing on thee, wondering where, 
 Murmuring a light song I had heard thee sing. 
 And once or twice I spake thy name aloud. 
 Then flash'd a levin-brand, and near me stood, 
 In fuming sulphur blue and green, a fiend — 
 Mark's way to steal behind one in the dark — 
 For there was Mark: 'He has wedded her,' he 
 
 said. 
 Not said, but hiss'd it: then this crown of tow- 
 ers 
 So shook to such a roar of all the sky, 
 That here in utter dark I swoon 'd away, 
 And woke again in utter dark, and cried, 
 'I will flee hence and give myself to God' — 
 And thou wert lying in thy new leman's 
 arms. ' ' 
 
 Then Tristram, ever dallying with her hand, 
 "May God be with thee, sweet, when old and 
 gray, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 3L5 
 
 And past desire!" a saying that anger 'd her. 
 " 'May God be with thee, sweet, when thou 
 
 art old, 
 And sweet no more to me !' I need Him now. 
 For when had Lancelot titter' d aught so 
 
 gross 
 Ev'n to the swineherd's malkin in the mast? 
 The greater man, the greater courtesy. 
 For other was the Tristram, Arthur's knight! 
 But thou, thro' ever harrying thy wild beasts — 
 Save that touch a harp, tilt with a lance 
 Becomes thee well — art grown wild beast thy- 
 self. 
 How darest thou, if lover, push me even 
 In fancy from thy side, and set me far 
 In the gray distance, half a life away. 
 Her to be loved no more? Unsay it, unswear! 
 Flatter me rather, seeing me so weak, 
 Broken with Mark and hate and solitude, 
 Thy marriage and mine own, that I should 
 
 suck 
 Lies like sweet wines: lie to me: I believe. 
 Will ye not lie? not swear, as there ye kneel, 
 And solemnly as when ye sware to him. 
 The man of men, our King — My God, the 
 
 power 
 Was once in vows when men believed the 
 
 King! 
 They lied not then, who sware, and thro' their 
 
 vows 
 The King prevailing made his realm: — I say. 
 Swear to me thou wilt love me ev'n when 
 
 old, 
 Gray-hair'd, and past desire, and in despair." 
 
 ) 
 
316 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then Tristram, pacing moodily up and 
 
 down, 
 "Vows! did you keep the vow you made to 
 
 Mark 
 More than I mine? Lied, say ye? Nay, but 
 
 learnt 
 Ti^he vow that binds too strictly snaps itself — 
 My knighthood taught me this — ay, being- 
 snap t — I 
 We run more counter to the soul thereof | 
 Than had he never sworn. I swear no more, 
 I swore to the great King, and am forsworn. 
 For once — ev'n to the height — I honor'd him. 
 *Man, is he man at all?' methought, when first 
 I rode from our rough Lyonnesse, and beheld 
 That victor of the Pagan throned in hall — i 
 His hair, a sun that ray'd from off a brow | 
 Like hillsnow high in heaven, the steel-blue' 
 
 eyes. 
 The golden beard that clothed his lips with 
 
 light- 
 Moreover, that weird legend of his birth, 
 With Merlin's mystic babble about his end 
 Amazed me; then, his foot was on a stool 
 Shaped as a dragon; he seem'd to me no man. 
 But Michael trampling Satan; so I sware. 
 Being amazed : but this went by — The vows ! 
 O ay — the wholesome madness of an hour — 
 They serve their use, their time; for every 
 
 knight 
 Believed himself a greater than himself, 
 And every follower eyed him as a God ; 
 Till he, being lifted up beyond himself. 
 Did mightier deeds than elsewise he had done, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 317 
 
 And so the realm was made ; but then their 
 
 vows — 
 First mainly thro' that sullying of our Queen — 
 Began to gall the knighthood, asking whence 
 Had Arthur right to bind them to himself? 
 Dropt down from heaven? wash'd up from out 
 
 the deep? 
 They fail'd to trace him thro' the flesh and 
 
 blood 
 Of our old kings: whence then? a doubtful lord 
 To bind them by inviolable vows, 
 Which flesh and blood perforce would violate : 
 For feel this arm of mine — the tide within 
 Red with free chase and heather-scented air, 
 Pulsing full man ; can Arthur make m.e pure 
 As any maiden child? lock up my tongue 
 From uttering freely what I freely hear? 
 Bind me to one? The wide world laughs at it. 
 And worldling of the world am I, and know 
 The ptarmigan that whitens ere his hour 
 Woos his own end ; we are not angels here 
 Nor shall be: vows — I am woodman of the 
 
 woods, 
 And hear the garnet-headed yaffingale 
 Mock them: my soul, we love but while we 
 
 may; 
 And therefore is my love so large for thee, 
 Seeing it is not bounded save by love. ' ' 
 
 Here ending, he moved toward her, and she 
 said, 
 *'Good: an I turn'd away my love for thee 
 To some one thrice as courteous as thyself — 
 For courtesy wins woman all as well 
 
318 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 As valor may, but he that closes both 
 Is perfect, he is Lancelot — taller indeed, 
 Rosier and comelier, thou — but say I loved 
 This knightliest of all knights, and cast thee 
 
 back 
 Thine own small saw, 'We love but while we 
 
 may,' 
 Well then, what answer?" 
 
 He that while she spake, 
 Mindful of what he brought to adorn her w4th, 
 The jewels, had let one finger lightly touch 
 The warm white apple of her throat, replied, 
 ''Press this a little closer, sweet, until — 
 Come, I am hunger'd and half anger'd — meat, 
 Wine, wine — and I will love thee to the death. 
 And out beyond into the dream to come. " 
 
 So then, when both were brought to full 
 
 accord, 
 She rose, and set before him all he will'd; 
 And after these had comforted the blood 
 With meats and wines, and satiated their 
 
 hearts — 
 Now talking of their woodland paradise. 
 The deer, the dews, the fern, the founts, the 
 
 lawns ; 
 Now mocking at the much ungainliness. 
 And craven shifts, and long crane legs of 
 
 Mark — 
 Then Tristram laughing caught the harp, and 
 
 sang: 
 
 "Ay, ay, O ay — the winds that bend the 
 brier ! 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 319 
 
 A star in heaven, a star within the mere ! 
 Ay, ay, O ay — a star was my desire, 
 And one was far apart, and one was near : 
 Ay, ay, O ay — the winds that bow the grass ! 
 And one was water and one star was fire, 
 And on6 will ever shine and one will pass. 
 Ay, ay, O ay — the winds that move the mere. " 
 
 Then in the light's last glimmer Tristram 
 
 show'd 
 And swung the ruby carcanet. She cried, 
 "The collar of some Order, which our King 
 Hath newly founded, all for thee, my soul. 
 For thee, to yield thee grace beyond thy 
 
 peers." 
 
 "Not so, my Queen," he said, "but the red 
 fruit 
 Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid-heaven. 
 And won by Tristram as a tourney-prize, 
 And hither brought by Tristram for his last 
 Love-offering and peace-offering unto thee." 
 
 He spoke, he turn'd, then, flinging round 
 
 her neck, 
 Claspt it, and cried, "Thine Order, O my 
 
 Queen!" 
 But, while he bow'dtokiss the jewell'd throat. 
 Out of the dark, just as the lips had touch'd. 
 Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek — 
 "Mark's way," said Mark, and clove him 
 
 through the brain. 
 
 That night came Arthur home, and while 
 he climb 'd 
 
320 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 All in a death-climb autumn-dripping gloom, 
 The stairway to the hall, and look'd and saw 
 The great Queen's bower was dark, — about 
 
 his feet 
 A voice came sobbing till he question'd it, 
 "What art thou!" and the voice about his feet 
 Sent up an answer, sobbing, "I am thy fool. 
 And I shall never make thee smile again." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KItlG. 321 
 
 GUINEVERE. 
 
 Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat 
 There in the holy house at Almesbury 
 Weeping-, none with her save a little maid, 
 A novice: one low light betwixt them burn'd 
 Blurr'd by the creeping mist, for all abroad, 
 Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full, 
 The white mist, like a face-cloth to the face, 
 Clung to the dead earth, and the land was stilL 
 
 For hither had she fled, her cause of flight 
 Sir Modred: he that like a subtle beast 
 Lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne, 
 Ready to spring, waiting a chance : for this 
 He chill'd the popular praises of the King 
 With silent smiles of slow disparagement; 
 And tamper'd with the Lords of the White 
 
 Horse, 
 Heathen, the brood by Hengist left ; and sought 
 To make disruption in the Table Round 
 Of Arthur, and to splinter it into feuds 
 Serving his traitorous end ; and all his aims 
 Were sharpen 'd by strong hate for Lancelot. 
 
 For thus it chanced one morn when all the 
 court, 
 Green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the 
 may, 
 
 21 Idylls 
 
322 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Had been, their wont, a-maying and return'd. 
 That Modred still in green, all ear and eye, 
 Climb'd to the high top of the garden-wall 
 To spy some secret scandal if he might, 
 And saw the Queen who sat betwixt her best 
 Enid, and lissome Vivien, of her court 
 The wiliest and the worst ; and more than this 
 He saw not, for Sir Lancelot passing by 
 Spied where he couch'd, and as the gardener's 
 
 hand 
 Picks from the colewort a green caterpillar, 
 So from the high wall and the flowering grove 
 Of grasses Lancelot pluck'd him by the heel,, 
 And cast him a sa worm upon the way ; 
 But when he knew the Prince tho' marred 
 
 with dust. 
 He, reverencing king's blood in a bad man, 
 Made such excuses as he might, and these 
 Full knightly without scorn; for in those days 
 No knight of Arthur's noblest dealt in 
 
 scorn ; 
 But, if a man were halt or hunch'd, in him 
 By those whom God had made full-limb'd and 
 
 tall, 
 Scorn was allow'd as part of his defect. 
 And he was answer'd softly by the King 
 And all his Table. So Sir Lancelot holp 
 To raise the Prince, who rising twice or thrice 
 Full sharply smote his knees, and smiled, and 
 
 went: 
 But, ever after, the small violence done 
 Rankled in him and ruffled all his heart, 
 As the sharp wind that ruffles all day long 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 323 
 
 A little bitter pool about a stone 
 Of the bare coast. 
 
 But when Sir Lancelot told 
 This matter to the Queen, at first she laugh 'd 
 Lightly, to think of Modred's dusty fall. 
 Then shudder 'd, as the village wife who cries 
 "I shudder, some one steps across my grave;" 
 Then laugh'd again, but faintlier, for indeed 
 She half-foresaw that he, the subtle beast, 
 Would track her guilt until he found, and hers 
 Would be forevermore a name of scorn. 
 Henceforward rarely could she front in hall, 
 Or elsewhere, Modred's narrow foxy face, 
 Heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye: 
 Henceforward too, the Powers that tend the 
 
 soul, 
 To help it from the death that cannot die, 
 And save it even in extremes, began 
 To vex and plague her. Many a time for 
 
 hours. 
 Beside the placid breathings of the King, 
 In the dead night, grim faces came and went 
 Before her, or a vague spiritual fear — 
 Like to some doubtful noise of creaking doors. 
 Heard by the watcher in a haunted house. 
 That keeps the rust of murder on the walls — 
 Held her awake: or if she slept, she dream'd 
 An awful dream; for then she seem'd to stand 
 On some vast plain before a setting sun. 
 And from the sun there swiftly made at her 
 A ghastly something, and its shadows flew 
 Before it, till it touch 'd her, and she turn'd — 
 
324 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 When lo ! her own, that broadening from her 
 
 feet, 
 And blackening, swallow 'd all the land, and 
 
 in it 
 Far cities burnt, and with a cry she woke. 
 And all this trouble did not pass but grew ; 
 Till ev'n the clear face of the guileless King, 
 And trustful courtesies of household life. 
 Became her bane; and at the last she said, 
 *'0 Lancelot, get thee hence to thine own land; 
 For if thou tarry we shall meet again. 
 And if we meet again, some evil chance 
 Will make the smouldering scandal break and 
 
 blaze 
 Before the people, and our lord the King." 
 And Lancelot ever promised, but remain'd, 
 And still they met and met. Again she said, 
 *'0 Lancelot, if thou love me get thee hence." 
 And then they were agreed upon a night 
 (When the good King should not be there) to 
 
 meet 
 And part for ever. Passion-pale they met 
 And greeted: hands in hands, and eye to eye, 
 Low on the border of her couch they sat 
 Stammering and staring; it was their last 
 
 hour, 
 A madness of farewells. And Modred brought 
 His creatures to the basement of the tower 
 For testimony : and crying with full voice 
 *' Traitor, come out, ye are trapt at last," 
 
 aroused 
 Lancelot, who rushing outward lionlike 
 Leapt on him, and hurl'd him headlong, and 
 
 he fell , 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 325 
 
 Stunn'd, and his creatures took and bare him 
 
 off, 
 And all was still: then she, "The end is come, 
 And I am shamed for ever;" and he said, 
 "Mine be the shame; mine was the sin : but 
 
 rise, 
 And fly to my strong castle overseas : 
 There will I hide thee, till my life shall end, 
 There hold thee with my life against the 
 
 world." 
 She answer'd, "Lancelot, wilt thou hold me so? 
 Nay, friend, for we have taken our farewells. 
 Would God that thou couldst hide me from 
 
 myself ! 
 Mine is the shame, for I was wife, and thou 
 Unwedded : yet rise now, and let us fly, 
 For I will draw me into sanctuary. 
 And bide my doom." So Lancelot got her 
 
 horse 
 Set her thereon, and mounted on his own. 
 And then they rode to the divided way. 
 There kiss'd, and parted weeping: for he 
 
 past, 
 Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen, 
 Back to his land ; but she to Almesbury 
 Fled all night long by glimmering waste and 
 
 weald. 
 And heard the Spirits of the waste and weald 
 Moan as she fled, or thought she heard them 
 
 moan: 
 And in herself she moan'd "Too late, too 
 
 late!" 
 Till in the cold wind that foreruns the morn, 
 A blot in heaven, the Raven, flying high, 
 
326 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Croak 'd, and she thought, "He spies a field of 
 
 death ; 
 For now the Heathen of the Northern Sea, 
 Lured by the crimes and frailties of the court, 
 Begin to slay the folk, and spoil the land. ' ' 
 
 And when she came to Almesbury she spake 
 There to the nuns, and said, "Mine enemies 
 Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sisterhood, 
 Receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask 
 Her name to whom ye yield it, till her time 
 To tell you:" and her beauty, grace and power, 
 AVrought as a charm upon them, and they 
 
 spared 
 To ask it. 
 
 So the stately Queen abode 
 For many a week, unknown, among the nuns; 
 Nor with them mix'd, nor told her name, nor 
 
 sought, 
 Wrapt in her grief, for housel or for shrift. 
 But communed only with the little maid. 
 Who pleased her with a babbling heedlessness 
 Which often lured her from herself; but now, 
 This night, a rumor wildly blown about 
 Came, that Sir Modred had usurp'd the realm, 
 And leagued him with the heathen, while the 
 
 King 
 Was waging war on Lancelot : then she thought, 
 "With what a hate the people and the King 
 Must hate me," and bow'd down upon her 
 
 hands 
 Silent, until the little maid, who brook 'd 
 No silence, brake it, uttering "Late! so late! 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 327 
 
 What hour I wonder, now?" and when she 
 
 drew 
 No answer, by and by began to hum 
 An air the nuns had taught her; "Late, so 
 
 late!" 
 Which when she heard, the Queen look'd up, 
 
 and said, 
 *'0 maiden, if indeed ye list to sing, 
 Sing, and unbind my heart that I may weep." 
 Whereat full willingly sang the little maid. 
 
 "Late, late, so late! and dark the night and 
 chill! 
 Late, late, so late! but we can enter still. 
 Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 
 
 "No light had we: for that we do repent; 
 ^nd learning this, the bridegroom will relent. 
 Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 
 
 "No light: so late! and dark and chill the 
 night ! 
 O let us in, that we may find the light ! 
 Too late, too late : ye cannot enter now. 
 
 "Have we not heard the bridegroom is so 
 sweet? 
 O let us in, tho' late, to kiss his feet! 
 No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now." 
 
 So sang the novice, while full passionately. 
 Her head upon her hands, remembering 
 Her thought when first she came, wept the sad 
 
 Queen. 
 Then said the little novice prattling to her, 
 
328 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 *'0 pray you, noble lady, weep no more; 
 But let my words, the words of one so small. 
 Who knowing nothing knows but to obey. 
 And if I do not there is penance given — 
 Comfort your sorrov/s ; for they do not flow 
 From evil done ; right sure am I of that. 
 Who see your tender grace and stateliness. 
 But weigh your sorrows with our lord the 
 
 King's, 
 And weighing find them less; for gone is he 
 To wage grim war against Sir Lancelot there. 
 Round that strong castle where he holds the 
 
 Oueen; 
 And Modred whom he left in charge of all, 
 The traitor — Ah, sweet lady, the King's grief 
 For his own self, and his own Queen, and 
 
 realm, 
 Must needs be thrice as great as any of ours. 
 For me, I thank the saints, I am not great. 
 For if there ever come a grief to me 
 I cry my cry in silence, and have done. 
 None knows it, and my tears have brought me 
 
 good: 
 But even were the griefs of little ones 
 As great as those of great ones, yet this 
 
 grief 
 Is added to the griefs the great must bear. 
 That howsoever much they may desire 
 Silence, they cannot weep behind a cloud : 
 As even here they talk at Almesbury 
 About the good King and his wicked Queen, 
 And were I such a King with such a Queen, 
 Well might I wish to veil her wickedness, 
 But were I such a King, it could not be." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 329 
 
 Then to her own sad heart mutter'd the 
 Queen, 
 "Will the child kill me with her innocent talk?" 
 But openly she answer 'd, "Must not I, 
 If this false traitor have displaced his lord, 
 Grieve with the common grief of all the realm?" 
 
 "Yea," said the maid, "this is all woman's 
 grief, 
 That she is woman, whose disloyal life 
 Hath wrought confusion in the Table Round 
 Which good King Arthur founded, years ago. 
 With signs and miracles and wonders, there 
 At Camelot, ere the coming of the Queen." 
 
 Then thought the Queen within herself, 
 again, 
 "Will the child kill me with her foolish prate?" 
 But openly she spake and said to her, 
 "O little maid, shut in by nunnery walls, 
 What canst thou know of Kings and Tables 
 
 Round, 
 Or what of signs and wonders, but the signs 
 And simple miracles of thy nunnery?" 
 
 To whom the little novice garrulously, 
 "Yea, but I know: the land was full of signs 
 And wonders ere the coming of the Queen. 
 So said my father, and himself was knight 
 Of the great Table — at the founding of it ; 
 And rode thereto from Lyonnesse, and he said 
 That as he rode, an hour or maybe twain 
 After the sunset, down the coast, he heard 
 Strange music, and he paused, and turning — 
 there, 
 
 22 Idylls 
 
330 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 All down the lonely coast of Lyonnesse, 
 
 Each with a beacon-star upon his head, 
 
 And with a wild sea-light about his feet, 
 
 He saw them — headland after headland flame 
 
 Far on into the rich heart of the west : 
 
 And in the light the white mermaiden swam, 
 
 And strong man-breasted things stood from 
 
 the sea, 
 And sent a deep sea-voice thro' all the land, 
 To which the little elves of chasm and cleft 
 Made answer, sounding like a distant horn. 
 So said my father — yea, and furthermore, 
 Next morning, while he past the dim-lit woods, 
 Himself beheld three spirits mad with joy 
 Come dashing down on a tall wayside flower, 
 That shook beneath them, as the thistle shakes 
 When three gray linnets wrangle for the seed : 
 And still at evenings on before his horse 
 The flickering fairy-circle wheel' d and broke 
 Flying, and link'd again, and wheel'd and 
 
 broke 
 Flying, for all the land was full of life. 
 And when at last he came to Camelot, 
 A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-hand 
 Swung round the lighted lantern of the hall; 
 And in the hall itself was such a feast 
 As never man had dream'd; for every knight 
 Had whatsoever meat he long'dfor served 
 By hands unseen; and even as he said 
 Down in the cellars merry bloated things 
 Shoulder'd the spigot, straddling on the butts 
 While the wine ran : so glad were spirits and 
 
 men 
 Before the coming of the sinful Queen." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 331 
 
 Then spake the Queen, and somewhat bit- 
 terly, 
 **Were they so glad? ill prophets were they all. 
 Spirits and men : could none of them foresee. 
 Not even thy wise father with his signs 
 And wonders, what hasfall'n upon the realm?'* 
 
 To whom the novice garrulously again, 
 **Yea, one, a bard; of whom my father said, 
 Full many a noble war-song had he sung, 
 Ev'n in the presence of an enemy's tieet, " 
 Between the steep cliff and the coming wave ; 
 And many a mystic lay of life and death 
 Had chanted on the smoky mountain-tops, 
 When round him bent the spirits of the hills 
 With all their dewy hair blown back like flame : 
 So said my father — and that night the bard 
 Sang Arthur's glorious wars, and sang the 
 
 King 
 As wellnigh more than man, and rail'd at those 
 Who call'd him the false son of Gorlois; 
 For there was no man knew from whence he 
 
 came: 
 But after tempest, when the long wave broke 
 All down the thundering shores of Bude and 
 
 Bos, 
 There came a day as still as heaven, and then 
 They found a naked child upon the sands 
 Of dark Tintagil by the Cornish sea; 
 And that was Arthur; and they foster'd him 
 Till he by miracle was approven King; 
 And that his grave should be a mystery 
 From all men, like his birth ; and could he find 
 A woman in her womanhood as great 
 
332 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 As he was in his manhood, then, he sang, 
 The twain together well might change the 
 
 world. 
 But even in the middle of his song 
 He falter 'd, and his hand fell from the harp, 
 And pale he turn'd, and reel'd, and would have 
 
 fall'n, 
 Eut that they stay'd him up; nor would he tell 
 His vision; but what doubt that he foresaw 
 This evil work of Lancelot and the Queen?" 
 
 Then thought the Queen, "Lo! they have 
 
 set her on, 
 Our simple-seeming Abbess and her nuns, 
 To play upon me," and bow'd her head nor 
 
 spake. 
 Whereat the novice crying, with clasp 'd hands, 
 Shame on her own garulity garrulously, 
 Said the good nuns would check her gadding 
 
 tongue 
 Full often, "and, sweet lady, if I seem 
 To vex an ear too sad to listen to me. 
 Unmannerly, with prattling and the tales 
 Which my good father told me, check me too 
 Nor let me shame my father's memory, one 
 Of noblest manners, tho' himself would say 
 Sir Lancelot had the noblest; and he died, 
 Kill'd in a tilt, come next, five summers back, 
 And left me : but of others who remain. 
 And of the two first-famed for courtesy — 
 And pray you check me if I ask amiss — 
 But pray you, which had noblest, while you 
 
 moved 
 Among them, Lancelot or our lord the King?" 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. ^3 
 
 Then the pale Queen look'd up and answered 
 her, 
 •'Sir Lancelot, as became a noble knight, 
 Was gracious to all ladies, and the same 
 In open battle or the tilting-field 
 Forbore his own advantage, and the King 
 In open battle or the tilting-field 
 Forbore his own advantage, and these twa 
 Were the most nobly-manner'd men of all. 
 For manners are not idle, but the fruit 
 Of loyal nature, and of noble mind." 
 
 *'Yea," said the maid, "be manners such fair 
 fruit? 
 Then Lancelot's needs must be a thousand-fold 
 Less noble, being, as all rumor runs. 
 The most disloyal friend in all the world.'* 
 
 To which a mournful answer made the 
 Queen: 
 **0 closed about by narrowing nunnery-walls^ 
 What knowest thou of the world, and all its- 
 lights 
 And shadows, all the wealth and all the woe? 
 If ever Lancelot, that most noble knight, 
 Were for one hour less noble than himself, 
 Pray for him that he scape the doom of fire. 
 And weep for her who drew him to his doom.** 
 
 *'Yea," said the little novice, "I pray for 
 both; 
 But I should all as soon believe that his, 
 Sir Lancelot's, were as noble as the King's^ 
 
334 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 As I could think, sweet lady, yours would be 
 Such as they are, were you the sinful Queen. '* 
 
 So she, like many another babbler, hurt 
 Whom she would soothe, and harm'd where 
 
 she would heal ; 
 For here a sudden flush of wrathful heat 
 Fired all the pale face of the Queen, who cried, 
 *'Such as thou art be never maiden more 
 For ever ! thou their tool, set on to plague 
 And play upon, and harry me, petty spy 
 And traitress." When that storm of anger 
 
 brake 
 From Guinevere, aghast the maiden rose. 
 White as her veil, and stood before the Queen 
 As tremulously as foam upon the beach 
 Stands in a wind, ready to break and fly. 
 And when the Queen had added "Get thee 
 
 hence," 
 Fled frighted. Then that other left alone 
 Sigh'd, and began to gather heart again. 
 Saying in herself, "The simple, fearful child 
 Meant nothing, but my own too-fearful guilt. 
 Simpler than any child, betrays itself, 
 But help me, heaven, for surely I repent. 
 For what is true repentance but in thought — 
 Not ev'n in inmost thought to think again 
 The sins that made the past so pleasant to us: 
 And I have sworn never to see him more, 
 To see him more." 
 
 And ev'n in saying this. 
 Her memory from old habit of the mind 
 Went slipping back upon the golden days 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 335 
 
 In which she saw him first, when Lancelot 
 
 came, 
 Reputed the best knight and goodliest man, 
 Ambassador, to lead her to his lord 
 Arthur, and led her forth, and far ahead 
 Of his and her retinue moving, they. 
 Rapt in sweet talk or lively, all on love 
 And sport and tilts and pleasure, (for the time 
 Was maytime, and as yet no sin was dream'd,) 
 Rode under groves that look'd a paradise 
 Of blossom, over sheets of hyacinth 
 That seem'd the heavens upbreaking thro' the 
 
 earth 
 And on from hill to hill, and every day 
 Beheld at noon in some delicious dale 
 The silk pavilions of King Arthur raised 
 For brief repast or afternoon repose 
 By couriers gone before ; and on again. 
 Till yet once more ere set of sun they saw 
 The dragon of the great Pendragonship, 
 That crown'd the state pavilion of the King, 
 Blaze by the rushing brook or silent well. 
 
 But when the Queen immersed in such a 
 trance, 
 And moving thro' the past unconsciously, 
 Game to that point where first she saw the 
 
 King 
 Ride toward her from the city, sigh'd to find 
 Her journey done, glanced at him, thought him 
 
 cold. 
 High, self-contain'd, and passionless, not like 
 
 him. 
 
836 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 "Not like my Lancelot" — while she brooded 
 
 thus 
 And grew half-guilty in her thoughts again, 
 There rode an armed warrior to the doors. 
 A murmuring whisper thro' the nunnery ran, 
 Then on a sudden a cry, "The King. " She sat 
 Stiff- stricken, listening ; but when armed feet 
 Thro' the long gallery from the outer doors 
 Rang coming, prone from off her seat she fell 
 And grovell'd with her face against the floor: 
 There with her milkwhite arms and shadowy 
 
 hair 
 She made her face a darkness from the King : 
 And in the darkness heard his armed feet 
 Pause by her ; then came silence, then a voice, 
 Monotonous and hollow like a Ghost's 
 Denouncing judgment, but tho' changed, the 
 
 King's: 
 
 "Liest thou here so low, the child of one 
 I honor' d, happy, dead before thy shame? 
 Well is it that no child is born of thee. 
 The children born of thee are sword and fire, 
 Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws. 
 The craft of kindred and the Godless hosts 
 Of heathen swarming o'er the Northern Sea; 
 Whom I, while yet Sir Lancelot, my right arm 
 The mightiest of my knights, abode with me, 
 Have everywhere about this land of Christ 
 In twelve great battles ruining overthrown. 
 And knowest thou now from whence I come — 
 
 from him. 
 From waging bitter war with him : and he. 
 That did not shun to smite me in worse way, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 337 
 
 Had yet that grace of courtesy in him left, 
 He spared to lift his hand against the King 
 Who made him knight: but many a knight 
 
 was slain ; 
 And many more, and all his kith and kin 
 Clave to him, and abode in his own land. 
 And many more when Modred raised revolt. 
 Forgetful of their troth and fealty, clave 
 To Modred, and a remnant stays with me. 
 And of this remnant will I leave a part, 
 True men who love me still, for whom I live. 
 To guard thee in the wild hour coming on, 
 Lest but a hair of this low head be harm'd. 
 Fear not : thou shalt be guarded till my death. 
 Howbeit I know, if ancient prophecies 
 Have err'd not, that I march to meet my 
 
 doom. 
 Thou hast not made my life so sweet to me, 
 That I the King should greatly care to live ; 
 For thou hast spoilt the purpose of my life. 
 Bear with me for the last time while I show, 
 Ev'n for thy sake, the sin which thou hast 
 
 sinn'd. 
 For when the Roman left us, and their law 
 Relax'd its hold upon us, and the ways 
 Were fill'd with rapine, here and there a deed 
 Of prowess done redress' d a random wrong. 
 But I was first of all the kings who drew 
 The knighthood-errant of this realm and all 
 The realms together under me, their Head, 
 In that fair Order of my Table Round, 
 A glorious company, the flower of men, 
 To serve as model for the mighty world, 
 And be the fair beginning of a time. 
 
338 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 I made them lay their hands in mine and swear 
 
 To reverence the King, as if he were 
 
 Their conscience, and their conscience as their 
 
 King, 
 To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, 
 To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, 
 To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, 
 To honor his own word as if his God's, 
 To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, 
 To love one maiden only, cleave to her. 
 And worship her by years of noble deeds, 
 Until they won her; for indeed I knew 
 Of no more subtle master under heaven 
 Than is the maiden passion for a maid. 
 Not only to keep down the base in man, 
 But teach high thought, and amiable words 
 And courtliness, and the desire of fame, 
 And love of truth, and all that makes a man. 
 And all this throve before I wedded thee 
 Believing, 'lo mine helpmate, one to feel 
 My purpose and rejoicing in my joy. ' 
 Then came thy shameful sin with Lancelot ; 
 Then came the sin of Tristram and Isolt ; 
 Then others, following these my mightiest 
 
 knights. 
 And drawing foul ensamples from fair names, 
 Sinn'd also, till the loathsome opposite 
 Of all my heart had destined did obtain. 
 And all thro' thee ! so that this life of mine 
 I guard as God's high gift from scathe and 
 
 wrong, 
 Not greatly care to lose ; but rather think 
 How sad it were for Arthur, should he live, 
 To sit once more within his lonely hall, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 339 
 
 And miss the wonted number of my knights, 
 And miss to hear high.talk of noble deeds 
 As in the golden days before thy sin. 
 For which of us, who might be left, could 
 
 speak 
 Of the pure heart, nor seem to glance at thee? 
 And in thy bowers of Camelot or of Usk 
 Thy shadow still would glide from room to 
 
 room, 
 And I should evermore be vext with thee 
 In hanging robe or vacant ornament, 
 Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair. 
 For think not, tho' thou wouldst not love thy 
 
 lord. 
 Thy lord has wholly lost his love for thee. 
 I am not made of so slight elements. 
 Yet must I leave thee, woman, to thy shame. 
 I hold that man the worst of public foes 
 Who either for his own or children's sake, 
 To save his blood from scandal, lets the wife 
 Whom he knows false, abide and rule the 
 
 house : 
 For seeing thro' his cowardice allow'd 
 Her station, taken everywhere for pure, 
 She like a new disease, unknown to men. 
 Creeps, no precaution used, among the crowd, 
 Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes, and 
 
 saps 
 The fealty of our friends, and stirs the pulse 
 With devil's leaps, and poisons half the young. 
 Worst of the worst were that man he that 
 
 reigns ! 
 Better the King's waste hearth and aching 
 
 heart 
 
340 • IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Than thou reseated in thy place of light, 
 
 The mockery of my people, and their bane. " 
 
 He paused, and in the pause she crept an 
 inch 
 Nearer, and laid hej hands about his feet. 
 Far off a solitary trumpet blew. 
 Then waiting by the door the warhorse neigh'd 
 As at a friend's voice, and he spake again: 
 
 "Yet think not that I come to urge thy 
 
 crimes, 
 I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere, 
 I, whose vast pity almost makes me die 
 To see thee, laying there thy golden head, 
 My pride in happier summers, at my feet. 
 The wrath which forced my thoughts on that 
 
 fierce law. 
 The doom of treason and the flaming death 
 (When first I learnt thee hidden here) is past. 
 The pang — which while I weigh'd thy heart 
 
 with one 
 Too wholly true to dream untruth in thee, 
 Made my tears burn — is also past — in part. 
 And all is past, the sin is sinn'd, and I, 
 Lo ! I forgive thee, as Eternal God 
 Forgives: do thou for thine own soul the rest. 
 But how to take last leave of all I loved? 
 
 golden hair, with which I used to play 
 Not knowing ! O imperial-moulded form, 
 And beauty such as never woman wore. 
 Until it came a kingdorh's curse with thee — 
 
 1 cannot touch thy lips, they are not mine, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 341 
 
 But Lancelot's: nay, they never were the 
 
 King's. 
 I cannot take thy hand ; that too is flesh, 
 And in the flesh thou hastsinn'd; and mine 
 
 own flesh, 
 Here looking down on thine polluted, cries 
 *I loathe thee:' yet not less, O Guinevere, 
 For I was ever virgin save for thee. 
 My love thro' flesh hath wrought into my life 
 So far, that my doom is, I love thee still. 
 Let no man dream but that I love thee still. 
 Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul. 
 And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, 
 Hereafter in that world where all are pure 
 We two may meet before high God, and thou 
 Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and 
 
 know 
 I am thine husband — not a smaller soul, 
 Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that, 
 I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I 
 
 hence. 
 Thro' the thick night I hear the trumpet blow: 
 They summon me their King to lead mine 
 
 hosts 
 Far down to that great battle in the west, 
 Where I must strike against the man they call 
 My sister's son — no kin of mine, who leagues 
 With Lords of the White Horse, heathen, and 
 
 knights. 
 Traitors — and strike him dead, and meet my- 
 self 
 Death, or I know not what mysterious doom. 
 And thou remaining here wilt learn the event ; 
 But hither shall I never come a.sfain. 
 
342 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Never lie by thy side ; see thee no more — 
 Farewell I" 
 
 And while she grovell'd at his feet. 
 She felt the King's breath wander o'er- her 
 
 neck, 
 And in the darkness o'er her fallen head, 
 Perceived the waving of his hands that blest. 
 
 Then, listening till those armed steps were 
 
 gone, 
 Rose the pale Queen, and in her anguish found 
 The casement: "Peradventure," so she 
 
 thought, 
 "If I might see his face, and not be seen." 
 And lo, he sat on horseback at the door! 
 And near him the sad nuns with each a light 
 Stood, and he gave them charge about the 
 
 Queen, 
 To guard and foster her for evermore. 
 And while he spake to these his helm was 
 
 lower'd 
 To which for crest the golden dragon clung 
 Of Britain ; so she did not see the face, 
 Which then was as an angel's, but she saw, 
 Wet with the mists and smitten by the lights, 
 The Dragon of the great Pendragonship 
 Blaze, making all the night a steam of fire. 
 And even then he turn'd; and more and more 
 The moony vapor rolling round the King, 
 Who seem'd the phantom of a Giant in it, 
 Enwound him fold by fold, and made him gray 
 And grayer, till himself became as mist 
 Before her, moving ghostlike to his doom. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 343 
 
 Then she stretched out her arms and cried 
 aloud 
 "Oh Arthur!" there her voice brake suddenly. 
 Then — as a stream that spouting from a cliff 
 Fails in mid air, but gathering at the base 
 Re-makes itself, and flashes down the vale — 
 Went on in passionate utterance: 
 
 "Gone — my lord! 
 Gone thro' my sin to slay and to be slain ! 
 And he forgave me, and I could not speak. 
 Farewell? I should have answer'd his farewell. 
 His mercy choked me. Gone, my lord the 
 
 King, 
 My own true lord! how dare I call him mine? 
 The shadow of another cleaves to me, 
 And makes me one pollution: he, the King, 
 Call'd me polluted: shall I kill myself? • 
 What help in that? I cannot kill my sin, 
 If soul be soul ; nor can I kill my shame ; 
 No, nor by living«can I live it down. 
 The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to 
 
 months, 
 The months will add themselves and make the 
 
 years. 
 The years will roll into the centuries, 
 And mine will ever be a name of scorn, 
 I must not dwell on that defeat of fame. 
 Let the world be ; that is but of the world 
 What else? what hope? I think there was a 
 
 hope. 
 Except he mock'd me when he spake of hope; 
 His hope he call'd it; but he never mocks, 
 For mockery is the fume of little hearts. 
 
344 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 And blessed be the King, who hath forgiven 
 My wickedness to him, and left me hope* 
 That in mine own heart I can live down sin 
 And be his mate hereafter in the heavens 
 Before high God. Ah great and gentle lord, 
 Who wast, as is the conscience of a saint 
 Among his warring senses, to thy knights — 
 To whom my false voluptuous pride, that took 
 Full easily all impressions from below, 
 Would not look up, nor half-despised the height 
 To which I would not or I could not climb — 
 I thought I could not breathe in that fine air, 
 That pure severity of perfect light — 
 I wanted warmth and color which I found 
 In Lancelot — now I see thee what thou art. 
 Thou art the highest and most human too, 
 Not Lancelot, nor another. Is there none 
 Will tell the King I love him tho' so late? 
 Now — ere he goes to the great Battle? none: 
 Myself must tell him in that purer life, 
 But now it were too daring. Ah, my God, 
 What might I not have made of thy fair world. 
 Had I but loved thy highest creature here? 
 It was my duty to have loved the highest : 
 It surely was my profit had I known : 
 It would have been my pleasure had I seen. 
 We needs must love the highest when we see it. 
 Not Lancelot, nor another. ' ' 
 
 Here her hand 
 Grasp'd, made her vail her eyes: she look' d 
 
 and saw 
 The novice, weeping, suppliant, and said to 
 
 her, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 345 
 
 *'Yea, little maid, for am I not forgiven?" 
 
 Then glancing up beheld the holy nuns 
 
 All round her, weeping; and her heart was 
 
 loosed 
 Within her, and she wept with these and said^ 
 
 "Ye know me then, that wicked one who 
 broke 
 The vast design and purpose of the King. 
 
 shut me round with narrowing nunnery- 
 
 walls, 
 Meek maidens, from the voices crying 'shame. * 
 
 1 must not scorn myself: he loves me still. 
 Let no one dream but that he loves me still. 
 So let me, if you do not shudder at me, 
 Nor shun to call me sister, dwell with you ; 
 Wear black and white, and be a nun like you 
 Fast with your fasts, not feasting with your 
 
 feasts ; 
 Grieve with your griefs, not grieving at your 
 
 joys. 
 But not rejoicing; mingle with your rites; 
 Pray and be pray 'd for ; lie before your shrines ; 
 Do each low office of your holy house ; 
 Walk your dim cloister, and distribute dole 
 To poor sick people, richer in His eyes 
 Who ransom'd us, and haler too than I; 
 And treat their loathsome hurts and heal mine 
 
 own; 
 And so wear out in almsdeed and in prayer 
 The sombre close of that voluptuous day, 
 Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King." 
 
 She said: they took her to theriiselves; and 
 she 
 
346 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Still hoping, fearing "is it yet too late?" 
 Dwelt with them, till in time their Abbess 
 
 died. 
 Then she, for her good deeds and her pure 
 
 life, 
 And for the power of ministration in her. 
 And likewise for the high rank she had borne, 
 Was chosen Abbess, there, an Abbess, lived 
 For three brief years, and there, an Abbess, 
 
 past 
 To where beyond these voices there is peace. 
 
 END OF "the round TABLE." 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 647 
 
 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 
 
 That story which the bold Sir Bedivere, 
 First made and latest left of all the knights, 
 ^old, when the man was no more than a voice 
 In the white winter of his age, to those 
 With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds. 
 
 For on their march to westward, Bedivere, 
 Who slowly paced among the slumbering host, 
 Heard in his tent the meanings of the King. 
 
 "I found Him in the shining of the stars, 
 I mark'd Him in the flowering of His fields, 
 But in His ways with men I find Him not. 
 I waged His wars, and now I pass and die. 
 O me ! for why is all around us here 
 As if some lesser god had made the world, 
 But had not force to shape it as he would, 
 Till the High God behold it from beyond, 
 And enter it, and make it beautiful? 
 Or else as if the world were wholly fair, 
 But that these eyes of men are dense and dim. 
 And have not power to see it as it is 
 Perchance, because we see not to the close : — • 
 For I, being simple, thought to work His will, 
 And have but stricken with the sword in vain; 
 And all whereon I lean'd in wife and friend 
 Is traitor to my peace, and all my realm 
 
348 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Reels back into the beast, and is no more. 
 My God, thou hast forgotten me in my death : 
 Nay — God my Christ — I pass but shall not die. ' ' 
 
 Then, ere that last weird battle in the west, 
 There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain kill'd 
 In Lancelot's war, the Ghost of Gawain blown 
 Along a wandering wind, and past his ear 
 Went shrilling, "Hollow, hollow all delight! 
 Hail, King! to-morrow thou shalt pass away. 
 Farewell ! there is an isle of rest for thee. 
 And I am blown along a wandering wind, 
 And hollow, hollow, hollow all delight. ' ' 
 And fainter onward, like wild birds that change 
 Their season in the night and wail their way 
 From cloud to cloud, down the long wind the 
 
 dream 
 Shrill'd; but in going mingled with dim cries 
 Far in the moonlit haze among the hills, 
 As of some lonely city sack'd by night, 
 When all is lost, and wife and child with wail 
 Pass to new lords ; and Arthur woke and call'd, 
 *'Who spake? A dream. O light upon the 
 
 wind. 
 Thine, Gawain, was the voice — are these dim 
 
 cries 
 Thine? or doth all that haunts the waste and 
 
 wild 
 Mourn, knowing it will go along with me?" 
 
 This heard the bold Sir Bedivere and spake : 
 *'0 me, my King, let pass whatever will. 
 Elves, and the harmless glamour of the field; 
 But in their stead thy name and glory cling 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 349 
 
 To all high places like a golden cloud 
 For ever: but as yet thou shalt not pass. 
 Light was Gawain in life, and light in death 
 Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man ; 
 And care not thou for dreams from him, but 
 
 rise — 
 I hear the steps of Modred in the west. 
 And with him many of thy people, and knights 
 Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser 
 
 grown, 
 Than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee. 
 Right well in heart they know thee for the 
 
 . King. 
 Arise, go forth and conquer as of old. " 
 
 Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: 
 *'Far other is this battle in the west 
 Whereto we move, than when we strove in 
 
 youth. 
 And brake the petty kings, and fought with 
 
 Rome, 
 Or thrust the heathen from the Roman wall. 
 And shook him thro' the north. Ill doom is 
 
 mine 
 To war against my people and my knights. 
 The king who fights his people fights himself. 
 And they my knights, who loved me once, the 
 
 stroke 
 That strikes them dead is as my death to me. 
 Yet let us hence, and find or feel a way 
 Thro' this blind haze, which ever since I saw 
 One lying in the dust at Almesbury, 
 Hath folded in the passes of the world." 
 
350 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then rose the King and moved his host by 
 
 night, 
 And ever push'd Sir Modred, league by league. 
 Back to the sunset bound of Lyonnesse — 
 A land of old upheaven from the abyss 
 By fire, to sink into the abyss again ; 
 Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt, 
 And the long mountains ended in a coast 
 Of ever-shifting sand, and far away 
 The phantom circle of a moaning sea. 
 There the pursuer could pursue no more, 
 And he that fled no further fly the King; 
 And there, that day when the great light of 
 
 heaven 
 Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling year, 
 On the waste sand by the waste sea they 
 
 closed. 
 Nor ever yet had Arthur fought a fight 
 Like this last, dim, weird battle of the west. 
 ;^A death white mist slept over sand and sea : 
 Whereof the chill, to him who breathed it, 
 
 drew 
 Down with his blood, till all his heart was cold 
 With formless fear; and ev'n on Arthur fell 
 Confusion, since he saw not whom he fought. 
 For friend and foe were shadows in the mist, 
 And friend slew friend not knowing whom he 
 
 slew ; 
 And some had visions out of golden youth, 
 And some beheld the faces of old ghosts 
 Look in upon the battle ; and in the mist 
 Was many a noble deed, many a base, 
 And chance and craft and strength in single 
 
 fights, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 351 
 
 And ever and anon with host to host 
 
 Shocks, and the splintering spear, the hard 
 
 mail hewn. 
 Shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, the 
 
 crash 
 Of battleaxes on shatter'd helms, and shrieks 
 After the Christ, of those who falling- down 
 Look'd up for heaven, and only saw the mist; 
 And shouts of heathen and the traitor knights. 
 Oaths, insult, filth, and monstrous blasphemies, 
 Sweat, writhing, anguish, laboring of the lungs 
 In that close mist, and cryings for the light. 
 Moans of the dying, and voices of the dead. 
 
 Last, as by some one deathbed after wail 
 Of suffering, silence follows, or thro' death 
 Or deathlike swoon, thus over all that shore. 
 Save for some whisper of the seething seas, 
 A dead hush fell ; but when the dolorous day 
 Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came 
 A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew 
 The mist aside, and with that wind the tide 
 Rose, and the pale King glanced across the 
 
 field 
 Of battle ; but no man was moving there : 
 Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, 
 Nor yet of heathen ; only the wan wave 
 Brake in among dead faces, to and fro 
 Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down 
 Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen, 
 And shiver 'd brands that once had fought with 
 
 Rome, 
 And rolling far along the gloomy shores 
 The voice of days of old and days to be. 
 
352 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere, 
 And whiter than the mist that all day long 
 Had held the field of battle was the King: 
 
 **Hearest thou this great voice that shakes 
 
 the world, 
 And wastes the narrow realm whereon we 
 
 move, 
 And beats upon the faces of the dead. 
 My dead, as tho' they had not died for me? — 
 O Bedivere, for on my heart hath fall'n 
 Confusion, till I know not what I am, 
 ISTor whence I am, nor whether I be King, 
 Behold, I seem but King among the dead." 
 
 Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere: "My 
 
 King, 
 King everywhere ! and so the dead have kings, 
 There also will I worship thee as King. / 
 
 Yet still thy life is whole, and still I live 
 Who love thee ; but who hates thee, he that 
 
 brought 
 The heathen back among us, yonder stands, 
 Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine house. \\ 
 
 Then spake the King, "My house hath been 
 my doom. 
 But call not thou this traitor of my house 
 Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me. 
 My house are rather they who sware my vows, , 
 Yea, even while they brake them, own'd me 
 
 King. 
 And well for thee, saying in my dark hour. 
 When all the purport of my throne hath fail'd, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 353 
 
 That quick or dead thou holdest me for King. 
 King am I, whatsoever be their cry ; 
 And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see 
 Yet, ere I pass. ' ' And uttering this the King 
 Made at the man : then Modred smote his 
 
 liege 
 Hard on that helm which many a heathen 
 
 sword 
 Had beaten thin ; while Arthur at one blow, 
 Striking the last stroke with Excalibur, 
 Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell. 
 
 So all day long the noise of battle roll'd 
 Among the mountains by the winter sea; 
 Until King Arthur's Table, man by man. 
 Had fall'n in Lyonnesse about their lord, 
 King Arthur. Then, because his wound was 
 
 deep, 
 The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, 
 And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, 
 A broken chancel with a broken cross. 
 That stood on a dark strait of barren land 
 On one side lay the Ocean, and on one 
 Lay a great water, and the moon was full. 
 
 Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
 **The sequel of to-day unsolders all 
 The goodliest fellowship of famous knights 
 Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep 
 They sleep — the men I loved. I think that 
 
 we 
 Shall never more, at any future time, 
 Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, 
 Walking about the gardens and the halls 
 
 23 Idylls 
 
354 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Of Camelot, as in the days that were. 
 Iperish by this people which I made, — 
 Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again 
 To rule once more ; but, let what will be, be, 
 I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm 
 That without help I cannot last till morn. 
 Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, 
 Which was my pride: for thou rememberest 
 
 how 
 In those old days, one summer noon, an arm 
 Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, 
 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
 Holding the sword — and how I row'd across 
 And took it, and have worn it, like a king; 
 And, wheresoever I am sung or told 
 In aftertime, this also shall be known ; 
 But now delay not ; take Excalibur, 
 And fling him far into the middle mere: 
 Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me 
 
 word. ' ' 
 
 To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere, 
 "It is not meet. Sir King, to leave thee thus, 
 Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm — 
 A little thing may harm a wounded man ; 
 Yet I thy hest will all perform at full, 
 Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee 
 word." 
 
 So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept. 
 And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, 
 Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, 
 Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang 
 Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping 
 down 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 355 
 
 By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock, 
 Came on the shining levels of the lake. 
 
 There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, 
 And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, 
 Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth 
 And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt: 
 For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, 
 Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth- work 
 Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long 
 That both his eyes were dazzled as he stood, 
 This way and that dividing the swift mind, 
 In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd 
 Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd 
 There in the many-knotted waterflags, 
 That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. 
 So strode he back slow to the wounded King. 
 
 Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
 •'Hast thou perform'd my mission which I 
 
 gave ? 
 What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?" 
 
 And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
 **I heard the ripple washing in the reeds. 
 And the wild water lapping on the crag. " 
 
 To whom replied King Arthur, faint and 
 pale: 
 "Thou hast betray 'd thy nature and thy name, 
 Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd 
 Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight : 
 For surer sign had follow'd, either hand, 
 Or voice, or else a motion of the mere, 
 
856 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 This is a shameful thing for men to lie. 
 Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again, 
 As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 
 I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word. " 
 
 Then went Sir Bedivere the second time 
 Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, 
 Counting the dewy pebbles, fixed in thought ; 
 But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, 
 How curiously and strangely chased, he smote 
 His palms together, and he cried aloud: 
 
 **And if indeed I cast the brand away, 
 Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, 
 Should thus be lost forever from the earth, 
 Which might have pleased the eyes of many 
 
 meii. 
 What good should follow this, if this were 
 
 done? 
 What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey, 
 Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. 
 Were it well to obey then, if a king demand 
 An act unprofitable, against himself? 
 The King is sick, and knows not what he does, 
 What record, or what relic of my lord 
 vShould be to aftertime, but empty breath 
 And rumors of a doubt? But wxre this kept, 
 Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, 
 Some one might show it at a joust of arms. 
 Saying, *King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, 
 Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. 
 Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps 
 Upon the hidden bases of the hills. ' 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 357 
 
 So might some old man speak in the aftertime 
 To all the people, winning reverence. 
 But now much honour and much fame were 
 lost." 
 
 So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, 
 And hid Excalibur the second time, 
 And so strode back slow to the wounded King. 
 
 Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : 
 *'What is it thou hast seen? or what hast 
 heard?" 
 
 And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: 
 *'I heard the water lapping on the crag. 
 And the long ripple washing in the reeds. 
 
 To whom replied King Arthur, much in 
 
 wrath : 
 *'Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, 
 Unknightly, traitor-hearted ! Woe is me ! 
 Authority forgets a dying king, 
 Laid widow 'd of the power in his eye 
 That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art, 
 For thou, the latest-left of all my knights. 
 In whom should meet the offices of all, 
 Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt ; 
 Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 
 Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. 
 Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice. 
 And the third time may prosper, get thee 
 
 hence: 
 But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, 
 I will arise and slay thee with my hands. 
 
 24 idyls ^ ^ 
 
358 IDYLLS OF THE KLNG. 
 
 Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, 
 And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged 
 Among the bulrush beds, and clutch 'd the 
 
 sword. 
 And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great 
 
 brand 
 Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon, 
 And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in 
 
 an arch, 
 Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, 
 Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 
 By night, with noises of the Northern Sea. 
 vSo flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur: 
 But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm 
 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
 And caught him by the hilt, and brandish 'd 
 
 him 
 Three times, and drew him under in the mere. 
 And lightly went the other to the King. 
 
 Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker 
 breath : 
 "Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. 
 Speak out: what is it thou hast heard, or seen?" 
 
 And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
 "Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems 
 Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, 
 Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die. 
 Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men, 
 So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 
 Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling 
 
 him; 
 But when I look'd again, behold an arm, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 359 
 
 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
 That caught him by the hilt, and brandish 'd 
 
 him 
 Three times, and drew him under in the mere. ' ' 
 
 And answer made King Arthur, breathing 
 
 hard: 
 *'My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were 
 
 gone. 
 Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, 
 And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear 
 My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die." 
 
 So saying, from the pavement he half rose, 
 Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, 
 And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes 
 As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 
 Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, 
 And would have spoken, but he found not 
 
 words ; 
 Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, 
 O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, 
 And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. 
 
 But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard. 
 Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed 
 When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the 
 
 King, 
 Muttering and murmuring at his ear, '* Quick, 
 
 quick ! 
 I fear it is too late, and I shall die." >' 
 
 But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge. 
 Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he 
 
 walk'd. 
 
360 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Larger than human on tlie frozen hills. 
 He heard the deep behind him, and a cry 
 Before. His own thought drove him like a 
 
 goad. 
 Dry clash 'd his harness in the icy caves 
 And barren chasms, and all to left and right 
 The bare black cliff clang' d round him, as he 
 
 based 
 His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang 
 Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — >■ 
 And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, 
 And the long glories of the winter morn. 
 
 Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, 
 Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, 
 Beneath them ; and descending they were ware 
 That all the decks were dense with stately 
 
 forms, 
 Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream — by 
 
 these 
 Three Queens with crowns of gold : and from 
 
 them rose 
 A cry that shiver 'd to the tingling stars, 
 And, as it were one voice, an agony 
 Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills 
 All night in a waste land, where no one comes, 
 Or hath come, since the making of the world. 
 
 Then murmur' d Arthur, "Place me in the 
 
 barge." 
 So to the barge they came. There those three 
 
 Queens 
 Put forth their hands, and took the King, and 
 
 wept. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 361 
 
 But she, that rose the tallest of them all 
 
 And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, 
 
 And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his 
 
 hands. 
 And call'd him by his name, complaining- loud. 
 And dropping bitter tears against a brow 
 Striped with dark blood : for all his face was 
 
 white 
 And colorless, and like the winter'd morn 
 Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east ; 
 And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with 
 
 drops 
 Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls — 
 That made his forehead like a rising sun 
 High from the dais-throne — were parch'd with 
 
 dust; 
 Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, 
 Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed 
 
 his lips. 
 So like a shatter'd column lay the King; 
 Not like that Arthur who, "with lance in rest. 
 From spur to plume a star of tournament, 
 Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged 
 Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 
 
 Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere : 
 **Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? 
 Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? 
 For now I see the true old times are dead, 
 When every morning brought a noble chance. 
 And every chance brought out a noble knight. 
 Such times have been not since the light that 
 
 led 
 The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 
 
362 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 But now the whole Round Table is dissolved 
 Which was an image of the mighty world, 
 And I, the last, go forth companionless, 
 And the days darken round me, and the years. 
 Among new men, strange faces, other minds." 
 
 And slowly answer 'd Arthur from the barge : 
 "The old order changeth, yielding place to 
 
 new, 
 And God fulfills himself in many ways, 
 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 
 Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? 
 I have lived my life, and that which I have 
 
 done 
 May He within himself make pure! but thou, 
 If thou shouldst nevpv see my face again, 
 Pray for my soul. \ More things are wrought 
 
 by prayer ^ v 
 
 Than this world dreams of J Wherefore, let thy 
 
 voice 
 Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
 For what are men better than sheep or goats 
 That nourish a blind life within the brain. 
 If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
 Both for themselves and these who call them 
 
 friend? 
 For so the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
 But now farewell. I am going a long way 
 With these thou seest — if indeed I go 
 (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — • 
 To the island-valley of Avilion; 
 Where falls not hail, or rain, or an)^ snow. 
 Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 363 
 
 Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard 
 
 lawns 
 And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, 
 "Where I will heal me of my grievous wound. ' ' 
 
 So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
 Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted 
 
 swan 
 That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
 Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
 "With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
 Revolving many memories, till the hull 
 Look'd one black dot against the verge of 
 
 dawn. 
 And on the mere the wailing died away. 
 
 But when that moan had past for evermore. 
 The stillness of the dead world's winter dawn 
 Amazed him, and he groan'd "The King is 
 
 gone." 
 And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme, 
 *'From the great deep to the great deep he 
 
 goes. ' ' 
 
 Whereat he slowly turn'd and slowly clomb 
 The last hard footstep of that iron crag: 
 Thence mark'd the black hull moving yet, and 
 
 cried, 
 *'He passeth to be King among the dead. 
 And after healing of his grievous wound 
 He comes again; but — if he come no more — 
 O me, be yon dark Queens in yon black boat, 
 Who shriek' d and wail'd, the three whereat we 
 
 gazed 
 
364 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 On that high day, when, clothed with living 
 
 light, 
 They stood before his tKrone in silence, friends 
 Of Arthur, who should help him at his need?" 
 
 Then from the dawn it seem'd there came, 
 but faint 
 As from beyond the limit of the world. 
 Like the last echo born of a great cry, 
 Sounds, as of some fair city were one voice 
 Around a king returning from his wars. 
 
 Thereat once more he moved about, and 
 
 clomb 
 Ev'n to the highest he could climb, and saw, 
 Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand. 
 Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the 
 
 King, 
 Down that long water opening on the deep 
 Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go 
 From less to less and vanish into light. 
 And the new sun rose bringing the new year. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 365 
 
 TO THE QUEEN. 
 
 O loyal to the royal in thyself, 
 And loyal to thy land, as this to thee — 
 Bear witness, that rememberable day, 
 When, pale as yet, and fever-worn, the Prince 
 Who scarce had pluck'd his flickering life again 
 From halfway down the shadow of the grave. 
 Past with thee thro' thy people and their love,. 
 And London roll'd one tide of joy thro' all 
 Her trebled millions, and loud leagues of man 
 And welcome! witness, too, the silent cry, 
 The prayer of many a race and creed, and 
 
 clime — 
 Thunderless lightnings striking under sea 
 From sunset and sunrise of all thy realm, 
 And that true North, whereof we lately heard 
 A strain to shame us "keep you to yourselves; 
 So loyal is too costly ! friends — you love 
 Is not a burthen : loose the bond, and go. ' ' 
 Is this the tone of empire? here the faith 
 That made us rulers? this, indeed, her voice 
 And meaning, whom the roar of Hougoumont 
 Left mightiest of all peoples under heaven? 
 What shock has fool'd her since, that she should 
 
 speak 
 So feebly? wealthier —wealthier — hour by 
 
 hour ! 
 The voice of Britain, or a sinking land, 
 
366 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 Some third-rate isle half-lost among her seas? 
 There rang her voice, when the full city peal'd 
 Thee and th}^ Prince! The loyal to their crown 
 Are loyal to their own far sons, who love 
 Our ocean-empire with her boundless homes 
 For ever-broadening- England, and her throne 
 In our vast Orient, and one isle, one isle. 
 That knows not her own greatness: if she 
 
 knows 
 And dreads it we are fall'n. — But thou my 
 
 Queen, 
 Not for itself, but thro' thy living love 
 For one to whom I made it o'er his grave 
 Sacred, accept this old imperfect tale, 
 New-old, and shadowing Sense at war with 
 
 Soul 
 Rather than that gray king, whose name, a 
 
 ghost, 
 Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from moun- 
 tain peak. 
 And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still; or 
 
 him 
 Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, one 
 Touch 'd by the adulterous finger of a time 
 That hover'd between war and wantonness. 
 And crownings and dethronements : take withal 
 Thy poet's blessing, and his trust that Heaven 
 Will blow the tempest in the distance back 
 From thine and ours: for some are scared, who 
 
 mark, 
 Or wisely or unwisel)^, signs of storm, 
 Waverings of every vane with every wind, 
 And wordy trucklings to the transient hour, 
 And fierce or careless looseners of the faith, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 367 
 
 And Softness breeding scorn of simple life, 
 
 Or Cowardice, the child of lust for gold, 
 
 Or Labor, with a groan and not a voice, 
 
 Or Art with poisonous honey stol'n from 
 
 France, 
 And that which knows, but careful for itself, 
 And that which knows not, ruling that which 
 
 knows 
 To its own harm : the goal of this great world 
 Lies beyond sight : yet — if our slowly-grown 
 And crown 'd Republics crowning common- 
 sense. 
 That saved her many times, not fail — their 
 fears i 
 
 Are morning shadows huger than the shapes 
 That cast them, not those gloomier which 
 
 forego 
 The darkness of that battle in the West, 
 Where all of high and holy dies away. 
 
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 COMPLETE LIST OF THE POETIC AND PROSE 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 Ella Wheeler Wilcox 
 
 POEMS OF PASSION. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. Presentation 
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 Human nature is less of a mystery after the reading of this book. 
 "Only a woman of genius could produce such a remarkable 
 
 vrork."— Illustrated London News. 
 
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 Lord Byron's impassionate strains."— Paris Register. 
 
 THREE WOMEN. I2mo, cloth, $1.00. Presentation 
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 Her latest and greatest poem. This marvelous narrative of 
 thrilling interest depicts the lives of three good and beautiful 
 women in every phase of weakness, passion, pride, love, sympathy 
 and tenderness. 
 
 AN AMBITIOUS MAN. (Prose.) 12mo. cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "Vivid realism stands forth from every page of this fascinating 
 hookf^'^— -Every. Day. 
 
 IRFfi 'IQ 
 
WORKS OF ELLJ WEEELER WILCOX (Continued) 
 
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 cloth, $1.00. Presentation Edition — white vellum, gold 
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 $2.50. 
 
 A choice collection of recitations, specially compiled for read- 
 ers and impersonators. 
 
 "Hername is a household word. Her great power lies in depict- 
 ing human emotions ; and in handling that grandest of all passions 
 — love— she wields the pen of a master."— T/ie Saturday Record. 
 
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