Some root of knighthood and pure noble

ness;

Whereto see thou, that it may bear its flower.

"And spake I not too truly, O my knights?

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, 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,

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

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

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 footIn moments when he feels he cannot

die,

And knows himself no vision to him

self,

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,
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

In special, half-awake he whisper'd, 'Where?

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

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:

And all the damsels talk'd confusedly, And one was pointing this way, and one that,

Because the way was lost.

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, As tho' it were the beauty of her soul: For as the base man, judging of the good, Puts his own baseness in him by default Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend All the young beauty of his own soul to hers,

Believing her; and when she spake to him,

Stammer'd, and could not make her a reply.

For out of the waste islands had he come, Where saving his own sisters he had known

Scarce any but the women of his isles, Rough wives, that laugh'd and scream'd against the gulls,

Makers of nets, and living from the sea.

Then with a slow smile turn'd the lady round

And look'd upon her people, and as when

A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn, The circle widens till it lip the marge, Spread the slow smile thro' all her company.

Three knights were thereamong; and

they too smiled,

Scorning him; for the lady was Ettarre, And she was a great lady in her land.

Again she said, 'O wild and of the woods,

Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech?

Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face, Lacking a tongue?'

She mutter'd, 'I have lighted on a fool, Raw, yet so stale!' But since her mind was bent

On hearing, after trumpet blown, her name And title, Queen of Beauty,' in the lists 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 from her;

Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers,

Till all her ladies laugh'd along with her.

Bright for all others, cloudier on 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,

Sir Pelleas follow'd. She that saw him cried,

'Damsels and yet I should be shamed to say it

I cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him back Among yourselves. Would rather that

we had

Some rough old knight who knew the worldly way,

Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride
And jest with: take him to you, keep

him off.