As when a painter, poring on a face, Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and color of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best And fullest; so the face before her lived, Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full Of noble things, and held her from her sleep. Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. First as in fear, step after step, she stole Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating:
Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, "This shield, my friend, where is it?" and Lavaine Past inward, as she came from out the tower.
There to his proud horse Lancelot turn'd, and smooth'd The glossy shoulder, humming to himself.
Half-envious of the flattering hand, she drew Nearer and stood. He look'd, and more amazed Than if seven men had set upon him, saw The maiden standing in the dewy light. He had not dream'd she was so beautiful. Then came on him a sort of sacred fear, For silent, tho' he greeted her, she stood Rapt on his face as if it were a God's. Suddenly flash'd on her a wild desire, That he should wear her favor at the tilt. She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. "Fair lord, whose name I know not-noble it I well believe, the noblest will you wear
My favor at this tourney?" "Nay,” said he,
"Fair lady, since I never yet have worn
Favor of any lady in the lists.
Such is my wont, as those, who know me, know."
"Yea, so," she answer'd; "then in wearing mine
Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord,
That those who know should know you." And he turn'd
Her counsel up and down within his mind,
And found it true, and answer'd, "True, my child.
Well, I will wear it: fetch it out to me:
What is it?" and she told him, "A red sleeve Broider'd with pearls," and brought it: then he bound
Her token on his helmet, with a smile
Saying, "I never yet have done so much For any maiden living," and the blood Sprang to her face, and fill'd her with delight; But left her all the paler, when Lavaine Returning brought the yet-unblazon'd shield, His brother's; which he gave to Lancelot, Who parted with his own to fair Elaine; "Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield In keeping till I come." "A grace to me," She answer'd, "twice to-day. I am your Squire." Whereat Lavaine said, laughing, "Lily maid, For fear our people call you lily maid
In earnest, let me bring your color back;
Once, twice, and thrice: now get you hence to bed": So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his own hand, And thus they moved away: she stay'd a minute, Then made a sudden step to the gate, and there —
Her bright hair blown about the serious face Yet rosy-kindled with her brother's kiss-
Paused in the gateway, standing by the shield In silence, while she watch'd their arms far-off Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs.
Then to her tower she climb'd, and took the shield, There kept it, and so lived in fantasy.
Meanwhile the new companions past away
Far o'er the long backs of the bushless downs, To where Sir Lancelot knew there lived a knight Not far from Camelot, now for forty years
A hermit, who had pray'd, labor'd and pray'd And ever laboring had scoop'd himself
In the white rock a chapel and a hall On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave, And cells and chambers: all were fair and dry; The green light from the meadows underneath Struck up and lived along the milky roofs; And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees And poplars made a noise of falling showers. And thither wending there that night they bode.
But when the next day broke from underground, And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave, They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode away: Then Lancelot saying, "Hear, but hold my name Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake," Abash'd Lavaine, whose instant reverence,
Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise, But left him leave to stammer, "Is it indeed?" And after muttering, "The great Lancelot!" At last he got his breath and answer'd: "One, One have I seen - that other, our liege lord, The dread Pendragon, Britain's king of kings,
Of whom the people talk mysteriously,
He will be there- then were I stricken blind
That minute, I might say that I had seen."
So spake Lavaine, and when they reach'd the lists
By Camelot in the meadow, let his eyes
Run thro' the peopled gallery which half round
Lay like a rainbow fall'n upon the grass,
Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat Robed in red samite, easily to be known, Since to his crown the golden dragon clung, And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold, And from the carven-work behind him crept Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them Thro' knots and loops and folds innumerable Fled ever thro' the woodwork, till they found The new design wherein they lost themselves, Yet with all ease, so tender was the work : And, in the costly canopy o'er him set, Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king.
Then Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine and said:
"Me you call great: mine is the firmer seat, The truer lance: but there is many a youth Now crescent, who will come to all I am And overcome it; and in me there dwells No greatness, save it be some far-off touch Of greatness to know well I am not great : There is the man." And Lavaine gaped upon him As on a thing miraculous, and anon
The trumpets blew; and then did either side, They that assail'd and they that held the lists, Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move, Meet in the midst, and there so furiously Shock, that a man far-off might well perceive, If any man that day were left afield,
The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of arms. And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw
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