Your places being vacant at my side,
This chance of noble deeds will come and go
Unchallenged, while ye follow wandering fires
320 Lost in the quagmire! Many 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,
325 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
330 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
Was in us from the vision, overthrew
335 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,
340 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
345 Who watch’d us pass; and lower, and where the long
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
350 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
355 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,
360 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 and famous names; and never yet
365 Had heaven appear’d 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,
370 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,
Awoke and cried, “This Quest is not for thee.”
375 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
380 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
385 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,
390 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
395 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
400 Fell into dust, and I was left alone.
‘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
405 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
410 In golden armour with a crown of gold
About a casque all jewels; and his horse
In golden armour jewell’d everywhere:
And on the splendour came, flashing me blind;
And seem’d to me the Lord of all the world,
415 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
420 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
425 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
430 That man had once dwelt there; but there I found
Only one man of an exceeding age.
“Where is that goodly company,” said I,
“That so cried out upon me?” and he had
Scarce any voice to answer, and yet gasp’d,
435 “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.”
440 ‘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:
445 ‘“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,’
450 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
455 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 armour suddenly Galahad shone
Before us, and against the chapel door
460 Laid lance, and enter’d, and we knelt in prayer.
And there the hermit slaked 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,
465 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,
470 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
Blood-red, and on the naked mountain top
475 Blood-red, and in the 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,
480 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.”
485 ‘While thus he spake, his eye, dwelling on mine,
Drew me, with power upon me, till I grew
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,
490 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
495 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,
500 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,
505 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 blazed with thunder such as seem’d
Shoutings of all the sons of God: and first
510 At once I saw him far on the great Sea,
In silver-shining armour 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,
515 If boat it were – I saw not whence it came.
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?
520 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
525 Down on the waste, and straight beyond the star
I saw the spiritual city and all her spires
And gateways in a glory like one pearl –
No larger, tho’ the goal of all the saints –
Strike from the sea; and from the star there shot
530 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
535 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.’
540 ‘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,
Not all unlike; which oftentime I read,
545 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 old walls – and mingle with our folk;
550 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,
555 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,
560 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:
‘All men, to one so bound by such a vow,
565 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,
570 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;
Thither I made, and there was I disarm’d
575 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, who had ever
Made my heart leap; for when I moved of old
580 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,
585 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
590 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,
595 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,
600 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,
605 And thou shalt be as Arthur in our land.”
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;
610 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 ye care for me
615 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: but O the pity
To find thine own first love once more – to hold,
620 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
635 Beyond all sweetness in a life so rich, –
Ah, blessèd Lord, I speak too earthlywise
Seeing I never stray’d beyond the cell,
But live like an old badger in his earth,
With earth about him everywhere, despite
630 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
All in the middle of the rising moon:
635 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,
640 ‘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
645 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
Idylls of the King Page 24