chung

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

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

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

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: 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, 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 dream I seem'd to climb

For ever at the last I reach'd a door, A light was in the crannies, and I heard,

"Glory and joy and honor 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

As from a seventimes-heated furnace, I.

Blasted and burnt, and blinded as I

was.

With such a fierceness that I swoon'd

away

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.'

"So speaking, and here ceasing, Lancelot left

The hall long silent, till Sir Gawainnay,

Brother, I need not tell thee foolish words,

A reckless and irreverent knight was he,

Now bolden'd by the silence of his King,

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, Per

civale,

Thy holy nun and thou have driven

men mad,

"And some among you held, that if the King

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 plough,

Who may not wander from the allotted field,

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,

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

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 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

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

And promised for him: and Arthur imade 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

Strange as to some old prophet might have seem'd

A vision hovering on a sea of fire,
Damsels in divers colors 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:

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,

"In happy time behold our pilot-star! Youth, we are damsels-errant, and we ride,

Arm'd as ye see, to tilt against the knights

There at Caerleon, but have lost our way:

To right? to left? straightforward? back again? Which? tell us quickly."

And Pelleas gazing thought, "Is Guinevere herself so beautiful?" For large her violet eyes look'd, and her bloom

A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens,

And round her limbs, mature in womanhood,

And slender was her hand and small her shape,

And but for those large eyes, the haunts of scorn,

She might have seem'd a toy to trifle with,

And pass and care no more. But while he gazed

The beauty of her flesh abash'd the boy,

Cried-and beholding him so strong, she thought

That peradventure he will fight for

me,

And win the circlet: therefore flatter'd him,

Being so gracious, that he wellnigh deem'd

His wish by hers was echo'd; and her knights

And all her damsels too were gracious to him,

For she was a great lady.

And when they reach'd Caerleon, ere they past to lodging, she,

Taking his hand, "O the strong hand," she said,

"See! look at mine! but wilt thou fight for me,

And win me this fine circlet, Pelleas, That I may love thee?"

Then his helpless heart Leapt, and he cried "Ay! wilt thou if I win?"

"Ay, that will I," she answer'd, and she laugh'd,

And straitly nipt the hand, and flung it from her;

Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers,

Till all her ladies laugh'd along with her.

According to her promise, and remain Lord of the tourney. And Arthur had the jousts

Down in the flat field by the shore of Usk

Holden: the gilded parapets were crown'd

With faces, and the great tower fill'd with eyes

Up to the summit, and the trumpets blew.

There all day long Sir Pelleas kept the field

With honor: so by that strong hand of his

The sword and golden circlet were achieved.

Then rang the shout his lady loved: the heat

Of pride and glory fired her face; her

knight

Linger'd Ettarre and seeing Pelleas droop,

Said Guinevere, "We marvel at thee much,

O damsel, wearing this unsunny face To him who won thee glory!" And she said,

"Had ye not held your Lancelot in your bower,

My Queen, he had not won." Whereat the Queen,

As one whose foot is bitten by an ant, Glanced down upon her, turn'd and went her way.

But after, when her damsels, and herself,

And those three knights all set their faces home,

To find his mettle, good: and if he fly us,

Small matter! let him." This her damsels heard,

And mindful of her small and cruel hand,

They, closing round him thro' the journey home,

Acted her hest, and always from her side

Restrain'd him with all manner of