Her castle walls, she stole upon my walk,
And calling me the greatest of all knights,

Embraced me, and so kiss'd me the first time,
herself and all her wealth to me.

And

gave

Then I remember'd Arthur's warning word,
That most of us would follow wandering fires,

And the quest faded in my heart. Anon,

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,
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.
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

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,

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
Beyond all sweetness in a life so rich,—

Ah, blessed Lord, I speak too earthly-wise,
Seeing I never stray'd beyond the cell,
But live like an old badger in his earth,
With earth about him everywhere, despite
All fast and penance. Saw ye none beside,
None of your knights?"

"Yea sò," 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:

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

'Once,'

Lancelot ?'

Said good Sir Bors, 'he dash'd across me mad,
And maddening what he rode; and when I cried,
"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

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 adore him so

That ill to him is ill to them; to Bors

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:
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 Down to the last tongue-tip of Lyonesse rode, And found a people there among their crags,

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,
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?' 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

He heard the hollow-ringing heavens 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
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, —

And these like bright eyes of familiar friends

In on him shone,' And then to me, to me,'