Idylls of the King

by Alfred Tennyson

  That ill to him is ill to them; to Bors

  650 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:

  655 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,

  And found a people there among their crags,

  660 Our race and blood, 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

  665 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?”

  670 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

  675 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 streaming scud: then came a night

  680 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,

  Rejoicing in ourselves and in our King –

  685 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 had pray’d or ask’d it for myself –

  Across the seven clear stars – O grace to me –

  690 In colour 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

  695 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:

  700 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

  705 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

  710 Of so great men as Lancelot and our King

  Pass not from door to door and out again,

  But sit within the house. O, when we reach’d

  The city, our horses stumbling as they trode

  On heaps of ruin, hornless unicorns,

  715 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 daïs-throne,

  And those that had gone out upon the Quest,

  720 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 bad me hail,

  Saying, “A welfare in thine eye reproves

  Our fear of some disastrous chance for thee

  725 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

  730 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

  735 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,

  740 Who made me sure the Quest was not for me;

  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,

  745 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

  750 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,

  755 “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,

  760 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;

  “O King!” – and when he paused, methought I spied

  765 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

  770 So strange, of such a kind, that all of pure,

  Noble, and knightly in me twined 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

  775 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

  780 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,

  785 And whipt me into waste fields far away;

  There was I beaten down by little men,

  Me
an 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

  790 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,

  Ye could not hear the waters for the blast,

  795 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,

  800 Half-swallow’d in it, anchor’d with a chain;

  And in my madness to myself I said,

  T will embark and I will lose myself,

  And in the great sea wash away my sin.’

  I burst the chain, I sprang into the boat.

  805 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,

  810 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

  815 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;

  820 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

  The sword was dash’d from out my hand, and fell.

  And up into the sounding hall I past;

  825 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,

  830 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,

  835 A light was in the crannies, and I heard,

  ‘Glory and joy and honour 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

  840 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

  845 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.”

  850 ‘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,

  Now bolden’d by the silence of his King, –

  855 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,

  860 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.”

  865 ‘ “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 came a sign from heaven,

  870 Blessèd 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

  875 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,

  880 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.

  ‘ “And spake I not too truly, O my knights?

  885 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,

  890 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 wrongs to right themselves,

  895 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

  900 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

  905 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,

  910 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,

  And knows himself no vision to himself,

  Nor the high God a vision, nor that One

  915 Who rose again: ye have seen what ye have seen.”

  ‘So spake the King: I knew not all he meant.’

  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

  5 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

  10 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,

  15 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,

  20 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

  Almost to falling from his horse; but saw

  Near him a mound of even-sloping side,

  25 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

  30 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,

  35 So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it.

  Then o’er it crost the 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

  40 In special, half-awake he whisper’d, ‘Where?

  O where? I love thee, tho’ I know thee not.

  For fair thou art and pure as Guinevere,

  And I will make thee with my spear and sword

  As famous – O my Queen, my Guinevere,

  45 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

  50 A vision hovering on a sea of fire,

  Damsels in divers colours like the cloud

  Of sunset and sunrise, and all of them

  On horses, and the horses richly trapt

  Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood:

  55 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,

  60 ‘In happy time behold our pilot-star!