435 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,
440 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,
445 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:
450 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,
455 Meet in the midst, and there so furiously
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
460 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,
465 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 –
470 The grace and versatility of the man!
Is it not Lancelot?’ ’When has Lancelot worn
Favour 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,
475 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
480 Bare, as a wild wave in the wide North-sea,
Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all
Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies,
Down on a bark, and overbears the bark,
And him that helms it, so they overbore
485 Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear
Down-glancing lamed the charger, and a spear
Prick’d sharply his own cuirass, and the head
Pierced thro’ his side, and there snapt, and remain’d.
Then Sir Lavaine did well and worshipfully;
490 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 lustily holpen by the rest,
495 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 wore the sleeve
500 Of scarlet, and the pearls; and all the knights,
His party, cried ‘Advance and take thy prize
The 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!
505 Hence will I, and I charge you, follow me not.’
He spoke, and vanish’d suddenly from the field
With young Lavaine into the poplar grove.
There from his charger down he slid, and sat,
Gasping to Sir Lavaine, ‘Draw the lance-head:’
510 ‘Ah my sweet lord Sir Lancelot,’ said Lavaine,
‘I dread me, if I draw it, you will die.’
But he, ‘I die already with it: draw –
Draw,’ – and Lavaine drew, and Sir Lancelot gave
A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan,
515 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 wound; and there, in daily doubt
Whether to live or die, for many a week
520 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,
525 Lords of waste marches, kings of desolate isles,
Came round their great Pendragon, saying to him,
‘Lo, Sire, our knight, thro’ whom we won the day,
Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left his prize
Untaken, crying that his prize is death.’
530 ‘Heaven hinder,’ said the King, ‘that such an one,
So great a knight as we have seen to-day –
He seem’d to me another Lancelot –
Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot –
He must not pass uncared for. Wherefore, rise,
535 O Gawain, and ride forth and find the knight.
Wounded and wearied needs must he be near.
I 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:
540 His prowess was too wondrous. 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,
545 And bring us where he is, and how he fares,
And cease not from your quest until ye find.’
So saying, from the carven flower above,
To which it made a restless heart, he took,
And gave, the diamond: then from where he sat
550 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
555 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
560 The banquet, and concourse of knights and kings.
So all in wrath he got to horse and went;
While Arthur to the banquet, dark in mood,
Past, thinking ‘Is it Lancelot who hath come
Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain
565 Of glory, and hath added wound to wound,
And ridd’n away to die?’ So fear’d the King,
And, after two days’ tarriance there, return’d.
Then when he saw the Queen, embracing ask’d,
‘Love, are you yet so sick?’ ‘Nay, lord,’ she said.
570 ‘And where is Lancelot?’ Then the Queen amazed,
‘Was he not with you? won he not your prize?’
&nbs
p; ‘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,
575 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
580 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.” ’
585 Then replied the King:
‘Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been,
In lieu of idly dallying with the truth,
To have trusted me as he hath trusted thee.
Surely his King and most familiar friend
590 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 remains
But little cause for laughter: his own kin –
595 Illnews, 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.
600 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,
605 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,
610 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,
And came at last, thp’ late, to Astolat:
615 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;
620 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
625 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!
630 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,
635 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:
640 ‘Well – if I bide, lo! this wild flower for me!’
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,
645 Sighs, and slow smiles, and golden eloquence
And amorous adulation, 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,
650 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,
655 ‘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,
660 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.’
‘And if I dream’d,‘ said Gawain, ‘that you love
665 This greatest knight, your pardon! lo, ye know it!
Speak therefore: shall I waste myself in vain?’
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,
670 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.’
675 ‘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!
680 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!
685 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
690 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!
Yet, if he love, and his love hold, we two
May meet at court hereafter: there, I think,
695 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
700 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 fail’d to find him, tho’ I rode all round
705 The region: but I lighted on the maid
Whose sleeve he wore; she loves him; and to her,
Deemi
ng our courtesy is the truest law,
I gave the diamond; she will render it;
For by mine head she knows his hiding-place.’
710 The seldom-frowning King frown’d, and replied,
‘Too courteous 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,
715 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
About the maid of Astolat, and her love.
All ears were prick’d at once, all tongues were loosed:
720 ‘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
Predoom’d her as unworthy. One old dame
725 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,
730 Fire in dry stubble a nine-days’ wonder flared:
Till ev’n the knights 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
735 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.
740 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,
745 ‘Father, you call me wilful, and the fault
Is yours who let me have my will, and now,
Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits?’
‘Nay,’ said he, ‘surely.’ ’Wherefore, let me hence,’
She answer’d, ‘and find out our dear Lavaine.’
750 ‘Ye will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine:
Bide,’ answer’d 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, wheresoe’er he be,
755 And with mine own hand give his diamond to him,
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