1410 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,
1415 And fling me deep in that forgotten mere,
Among the tumbled fragments of the hills.’
So groan’d Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain,
Now knowing he should die a holy man.
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,
5 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,
10 And honour’d him, and wrought 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
15 That puff’d the swaying branches into smoke
Above them, ere the summer when he died,
The monk Ambrosius question’d Percivale:
‘O brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke,
Spring after spring, for half a hundred years:
20 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
For one of those who eat in Arthur’s hall;
25 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?’
30 ‘Nay,’ said the knight; ‘for no such passion 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
35 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 –
40 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?’
45 ‘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 blessèd land of Aromat –
After the day of darkness, when the dead
50 Went wandering o’er Moriah – the good saint
Arimathæan 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
55 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
60 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,
65 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
70 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,
75 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,
80 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,
85 A man wellnigh 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,
From our Lord’s time. And when King Arthur made
90 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!
95 “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
100 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,
105 Beautiful in the light of holiness.
And “O my brother Percivale,” she said,
“Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail:
For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound
As of a silver horn from o’er the hills
110 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,
115 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
120 With rosy colours 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
125 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
130 To all men; and myself fasted and pray’d
Always, and many among us many a week
Fasted and pray’d even to th
e uttermost,
Expectant of the wonder that would be.
‘And one there was among us, ever moved
135 Among us in white armour, Galahad.
“God make thee good as thou art beautiful,”
Said Arthur, when he dubb’d him knight; and none,
In so young youth, was ever made a knight
Till Galahad; and this Galahad, when he heard
140 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
145 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
150 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,
155 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.
160 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
She sent the deathless passion in her eyes
Thro’ him, and made him hers, and laid her mind
165 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
170 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:”
175 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,
180 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
185 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,
190 And none might see who bare it, and it past.
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
195 ‘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,
200 And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot’s cousin, sware,
And Lancelot sware, and many among the knights,
And Gawain sware, and louder than the rest.’
Then spake the monk Ambrosius, asking him,
‘What said the King? Did Arthur take the vow?’
205 ‘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
210 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
215 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
220 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.
225 ‘O brother, had you known our mighty hall,
Which Merlin built for Arthur long ago!
For all the sacred mount of Camelot,
And all the dim rich city, roof by roof,
Tower after tower, spire beyond spire,
230 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,
235 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,
240 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,
Wasted so often by the heathen hordes,
245 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
250 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,
255 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,
260 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,
265 and sear’d,
Follow’d, and in among bright faces, ours,
Full of the vision, prest: and then the King
Spake to me, being nearest, “Percivale.”
(Because the hall was all in tumult – some
270 Vowing, and some protesting), “what is this?”
‘O brother, when I told him what had chanc
ed,
My sister’s vision, and the rest, his face
Darken’d, as I have seen it more than once,
275 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?”
280 ‘“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:
285 “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,
290 “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.
295 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)
300 “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,
305 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
310 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:
315 Yet – for ye know the cries of all my realm
Pass thro’ this hall – how often, O my knights,
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