"Follow the faces, and we find it.-Look, Who comes behind?" 1181

For one-delayed at first Thro' helping back the dislocated Kay To Camelot, then by what thereafter

chanced,

The damsel's headlong error1 thro' the wood

Sir Lancelot, having swum the riverloops

His blue shield-lions covered-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 pricked against the

cry;

1190 But when they closed-in a moment-at one touch

Of that skilled spear, the wonder of the world

Went sliding down so easily, and fell, That when he found the grass within his hands

He laughed; the laughter, jarred upon Lynette:

Harshly she asked him, "Shamed and overthrown,

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,

1200

And victor of the bridges and the ford, And knight of Arthur, here lie thrown by whom

I know not, all thro' mere unhappinessDevice and sorcery and unhappinessOut, sword; we are thrown!"

And

Lancelot answered, "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."

Well hast thou done; for all the stream is freed,

And thou hast wreaked his justice on his foes,

And when reviled, hast answered 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

1240 The tale of Gareth, petulantly she said,

"Ay well-ay well-for worse than being fooled

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 Passed into sleep; on whom the maiden gazed.

"Sound sleep be thine! sound cause to sleep hast thou.

1250

Wake lusty! Seem I not as tender to him

As any mother? Ay, but such a one
As all day long hath rated 1 at her child,
And vexed his day, but blesses him
asleep-

Good Lord, how sweetly smells the honeysuckle

In the hushed night, as if the world were

They traversed.

summer-wan,

Silent the silent field Arthur's Harp, tho' 1281

In counter motion to the clouds, allured The glance of Gareth dreaming on his liege.3

A star shot: "Lo," said Gareth, "the foe falls!"

An owl whooped: "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:

I curse the tongue that all thro' yesterday Reviled thee, and hath wrought on Lance

lot now

1290

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 maimed,

Mangled: I swear thou canst not fling the fourth."

Beside it hanging; which Sir Gareth grasped,

And so, before the two could hinder him, Sent all his heart and breath thro' all the horn.

Echoed 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 passed;

Till high above him, circled with her maids, 1339 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.

Then with a stronger buffet he clove the helm

As throughly 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 dreamed the passes would be passed."

Answered Sir Gareth graciously to one Not many a moon his younger, "My fair child,

1380

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 dreamed the passes could be passed."

Then sprang the happier day from underground;

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. 1391

And he that told the tale in older times Says that Sir Gareth wedded Lyonors, But he, that told it later, says Lynette. (1872)

I throughly. Thoroughly.

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

ALFRED TENNYSON

[This poem deals with an incident of the days when the corruption and fall of Arthur's kingdom were beginning, the chief cause being the guilty love of Lancelot, Arthur's most trusted knight, and Guinevere, his Queen. It should be noticed that, after the opening of the poem, the story goes back (line 34) to the tale of the diamond necklace, and that we turn to the opening scene at line 396.]

Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, High in her chamber up a tower to the east

Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot; Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray

Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;

Then, fearing rust or soilure, fashioned for it

A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazon'd on the shield
In their own tinct,2 and added, of her
wit,

10

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, climbed

That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,

Stripped off the case, and read the naked shield,

Now guessed 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;

20

That ten years back; this dealt him at Caerlyle;

That at Caerleon; this at Camelot : And ah God's mercy, what a stroke was there!

And here a thrust that might have killed, but God

Broke the strong lance, and rolled his enemy down,

And saved him: so she lived in fantasy.3