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Won by the mellow voice before she look'd, Lifted her eyes, and read his lineaments. The great and guilty love he bare the Queen,

In battle with the love he bare his lord, Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his time.

Another sinning on such heights with one, The flower of all the west and all the world,

Had been the sleeker for it: but in him His mood was often like a fiend, and rose And drove him into wastes and solitudes For agony, who was yet a living soul. Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the goodliest

man

That ever among ladies ate in hall,

And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes. However marr'd, of more than twice her

years,

Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the

cheek,

And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up

her eyes

And loved him, with that love which was her doom.

Then the great knight, the darling of

the court,

Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall Stept with all grace, and not with half disdain

Hid under grace, as in a smaller time, But kindly man moving among his kind : Whom they with meats and vintage of

their best

And talk and minstrel melody entertain'd. And much they ask'd of court and Table Round,

And ever well and readily answer'd he : But Lancelot, when they glanced at

Guinevere,

Suddenly speaking of the wordless man,

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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 colour 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 by the gateway, standing near 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, labour'd and

pray'd,

And ever labouring had scoop'd himselt
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,

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