springs The buoy that rides at sea, and dips and | His heart be stirr'd with any foolish heat At any gentle damsel's waywardness. Shamed? care not! thy foul sayings fought for me: Forever; till at length Sir Gareth's brand Clash'd his, and brake it utterly to the hilt. "I have thee now"; but forth that other sprang, And, all unknightlike, writhed his wiry And seeing now thy words are fair, methinks, There rides no knight, not Lancelot, his great self, Hath force to quell me." Nigh upon that hour When the lone hern forgets his melancholy, Lets down his other leg, and stretching dreams Of goodly supper in the distant pool, Then turn'd the noble damsel smiling at him, And told him of a cavern hard at hand, Where bread and baken meats and good red wine Of Southland, which the Lady Lyonors Had sent her coming champion, waited him. Anon they past a narrow comb wherein Were slabs of rock with figures, knights on horse Sculptured, and deckt in slowly waning hues. "Sir Knave, my knight, a hermit once was here, Whose holy hand hath fashion'd on the rock The war of Time against the soul of man. And yon four fools have suck'd their allegory From these damp walls, and taken but the form. Know ye not these?" and Gareth lookt and read In letters like to those the vexillary Hath left crag-carven o'er the streaming Gelt "PHOSPHORUS," then "MERIDIES "HESPERUS' "Nox"-"MORS," beneath five figures, armed men, Slab after slab, their faces forward all, And running down the Soul, a Shape that fled With broken wings, torn raiment and loose hair, For help and shelter to the hermit's cave. "Follow the faces, and we find it. Look, Who comes behind?" For one-delay'd at first | Had sent thee down before a lesser spear Thro' helping back the dislocated Kay Shamed had I been and sad - O Lancelot To Camelot, then by what thereafter thou!" Of that skill'd spear, the wonder of the world Went sliding down so easily, and fell, He laugh'd; the laughter jarr'd upon Harshly she ask'd him, "Shamed and And tumbled back into the kitchenknave, Why laugh ye? that ye blew your boast in vain ?" "Nay, noble damsel, but that I, the son Of old King Lot and good Queen Bellicent, And victor of the bridges and the ford, I know not, all thro' mere unhappiness celot answer'd, "Prince, O Gareth—thro' the mere unhappiness As on the day when Arthur knighted Thrown have I been, nor once, but many a time. Victor from vanquish'd issues at the last, And overthrower from being overthrown. With sword we have not striven; and thy good horse And thou art weary; yet not less I felt Thy manhood thro' that wearied lance of thine. Well hast thou done; for all the stream is freed, And thou hast wreak'd his justice on his foes, And when reviled, hast answer'd gra- And makest merry, when overthrown. Then Gareth, "Thou- Lancelot ! Hail, Knight and Prince, and of our thine the hand Table Round!" And then when turning to Lynette he told. The tale of Gareth, petulantly she said, 66 Sound sleep be thine! sound cause to sleep hast thou." "Ay well-ay well for worse than being fool'd Of others, is to fool one's self. A cave, And forage for the horse, and flint for fire. sought and found, Sir Gareth drank and ate, and all his life Past into sleep; on whom the maiden gazed. "Sound sleep be thine! sound cause to sleep hast thou. Wake lusty! Seem I not as tender to him As any mother? Ay, but such a one In the hush'd night, as if the world were one Of utter peace, and love, and gentleness! - - and she clapt | Clung to the shield that Lancelot lent him, crying, "Full merry am I to find my goodly knave Is knight and noble. See now, sworn have I, Else yon black felon had not let me he will, Change his for mine, and take my charger, fresh, Not to be spurr'd, loving the battle as well As he that rides him." "Lancelot-like," she said, "Yield, yield him this again: 't is he must fight: I curse the tongue that all thro' yesterday Reviled thee, and hath wrought on Lancelot now To lend thee horse and shield: wonders ye have done; Miracles ye cannot here is glory enow In having flung the three: I see thee maim'd, Seeing he never rides abroad by day; "Courteous in this, Lord Lancelot, as But watch'd him have I like a phantom And in all." Gareth, wakening, fiercely clutch'd the shield; "Ramp, ye lance-splintering lions, on whom all spears Are rotten sticks! ye seem agape to roar ! Yea, ramp and roar at leaving of your lord! Care not, good beasts, so well I care for And so fill up the gap where force might | And crown'd with fleshless laughter fail With skill and fineness. his words. some ten steps Instant were In the half-light Then for a space, and under cloud that grew To thunder-gloom palling all stars, they rode In converse till she made her palfry halt, Lifted an arm, and softly whisper'd, "There.' And all the three were silent seeing, pitch'd Beside the Castle Perilous on flat field, Black, with black banner, and a long black horn Beside it hanging; which Sir Gareth graspt, And So, before the two could hinder him, Sent all his heart and breath thro' all the horn. Echo'd the walls; a light twinkled; anon Came lights and lights, and once again he blew ; Whereon were hollow tramplings up and down And muffled voices heard, and shadows advanced thro' the dim dawn That Death was cast to ground, and slowly rose. But with one stroke Sir Gareth split the skull. Half fell to right and half to left and lay. Then with a stronger buffet he clove the helm As throughly as the skull; and out from this Issued the bright face of a blooming boy Fresh as a flower new-born, and crying, "Knight, Slay me not my three brethren bad me do it, To make a horror all about the house, And stay the world from Lady Lyonors. They never dream'd the passes would be past." |