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,

And pamper him with papmeat, if ye will, Old milky fables of the wolf and sheep, Such as the wholesome mothers tell their boys.

Nay, should ye try him with a merry one To find his mettle, good: and if he fly us, Small matter! let him.' This her damsels heard,

And mindful of her small and cruel hand, They, closing round him thro' the journey home,

Acted her hest, and always from her side Restrain'd him with all manner of device, So that he could not come to speech with her.

And when she gain d her castle, upsprang

the bridge,

Down rang the grate of iron thro' the

groove,

And he was left alone in open field.

'These be the ways of ladies,' Pelleas

thought,

'To those who love them, trials of our faith.

Yea, let her prove me to the uttermost, For loyal to the uttermost am I.'

So made his moan; and, darkness falling, sought

A priory not far cff, there lodged, but

rose

With morning every day, and, moist or dry,

Full-arm'd upon his charger all day long Sat by the walls, and no one open'd to him.

And this persistence turn'd her scorn to wrath.

Then calling her three knights, she charged them, 'Out!

And drive him from the walls.' And out

they came,

But Pelleas overthrew them as they dash'd Against him one by one; and these

return'd,

But still he kept his watch beneath the wall.

Thereon her wrath became a hate; and

once,

A week beyond, while walking on the walls

With her three knights, she pointed

downward, Look,

He haunts me-I cannot breathe

besieges me;

Down! strike him! put my hate into your strokes,

And drive him from my walls.' And down they went,

And Pelleas overthrew them one by one; And from the tower above him cried Ettarre,

'Bind him, and bring him in.'

He heard her voice; Then let the strong hand, which had overthrown

Her minion-knights, by those he overthrew

Be bounden straight, and so they brought him in.

Then when he came before Ettarre, the

sight

Of her rich beauty made him at one glance More bondsman in his heart than in his bonds.

Yet with good cheer he spake, 'Behold me, Lady,

A prisoner, and the vassal of thy will; And if thou keep me in thy donjon here, Content am I so that I see thy face

But once a day: for I have sworn my Vows,

And thou hast given thy promise, and I know

That all these pains are trials of my faith, And that thyself, when thou hast seen me strain'd

And sifted to the utmost, wilt at length Yield me thy love and know me for thy knight.'

Then she began to rail so bitterly, With all her damsels, he was stricken

mute;

But when she mock'd his vows and the

great King,

Lighted on words: For pity of thine

own self,

Peace, Lady, peace: is he not thine and mine?'

Thou fool,' she said, 'I never heard his voice

But long'd to break away. Unbind him

now,

And thrust him out of doors; for save he be

Fool to the midmost marrow of his bones, He will return no more.' And those, her three,

Laugh'd, and unbound, and thrust him

from the gate.

And after this, a week beyond, again She call'd them, saying, 'There he watches yet,

There like a dog before his master's door Kick'd, he returns: do ye not hate him,

ye?

Ye know yourselves: how can ye bide at

peace,

Affronted with his fulsome innocence ? Are ye but creatures of the board and bed,

No men to strike? Fall on him all at once,

And if ye slay him I reck not: if ye fail, Give ye the slave mine order to be bound, Bind him as heretofore, and bring him in : It may be ye shall slay him in his bonds.'

She spake; and at her will they couch'd their spears,

Three against one: and Gawain passing by,

Bound upon solitary adventure, saw

Low down beneath the shadow of those

towers

A villainy, three to one: and thro' his

heart

The fire of honour and all noble deeds Flash'd, and he call'd, 'I strike upon thy

side

The caitiffs!' 'Nay,' said Pelleas, 'but forbear;

He needs no aid who doth his lady's will.'

So Gawain, looking at the villainy done, Forbore, but in his heat and eagerness Trembled and quiver'd, as the dog, with

held

A moment from the vermin that he sees Before him, shivers, ere he springs and kills.

And Pelleas overthrew them, one to

three;

And they rose up, and bound, and brought

him in.

Then first her anger, leaving Pelleas,

burn'd

Full on her knights in many an evil name Of craven, weakling, and thrice-beaten hound:

'Yet, take him, ye that scarce are fit to touch,

Far less to bind, your victor, and thrust him out,

And let who will release him from his bonds.

And if he comes again'-there she brake short;

And Pelleas answer'd, 'Lady, for indeed
I loved you and I deem'd you beautiful,
I cannot brook to see your beauty marr'd
Thro' evil spite and if ye love me not,
I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn :
I had liefer ye were worthy of my love,
Than to be loved again of you-farewell;
And tho' ye kill my hope, not yet my love,
Vex not yourself: ye will not see me
more.'

While thus he spake, she gazed upon

the man

Of princely bearing, tho' in bonds, and thought,

'Why have I push'd him from me? this man loves,

If love there be yet him I loved not. Why?

I deem'd him fool? yea, so? or that in him A something-was it nobler than myself?

Seem'd my reproach? He is not of my kind.

He could not love me, did he know me well.

Nay, let him go-and quickly.' And her knights

Laugh'd not, but thrust him bounden out

of door.

Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed him from his bonds,

And flung them o'er the walls; and afterward,

Shaking his hands, as from a lazar's rag, 'Faith of my body,' he said, and art thou not

Yea thou art he, whom late our Arthur made

Knight of his table; yea and he that won The circlet? wherefore hast thou so

defamed

Thy brotherhood in me and all the rest. As let these caitiffs on thee work their will?'

And Pelleas answer'd, 'O, their wills are hers

For whom I won the circlet; and mine,

hers,

Thus to be bounden, so to see her face, Marr'd tho' it be with spite and mockery

now,

Other than when I found her in the woods;

And tho' she hath me bounden but in spite,

And all to flout me, when they bring me in,

Let me be bounden, I shall see her face; Else must I die thro' mine unhappiness.'

And Gawain answer'd kindly tho' in

scorn,

'Why, let my lady bind me if she will, And let my lady beat me if she will: But an she send her delegate to thrall These fighting hands of mine-Christ kill me then

But I will slice him handless by the wrist, And let my lady sear the stump for him, Howl as he may. But hold me for your friend:

:

Come, ye know nothing here I pledge my troth,

Yea, by the honour of the Table Round, I will be leal to thee and work thy work,

And tame thy jailing princess to thine hand.

Lend me thine horse and arms, and I will say

That I have slain thee. She will let me in To hear the manner of thy fight and fall; Then, when I come within her counsels, then

From prime to vespers will I chant thy praise

As prowest knight and truest lover, more Than any have sung thee living, till she long

To have thee back in lusty life again,

Not to be bound, save by white bonds

Rang out like hollow woods at huntingtide.

Up ran a score of damsels to the tower; 'Avaunt,' they cried, our lady loves thee not.'

But Gawain lifting up his vizor said, 'Gawain am I, Gawain of Arthur's court, And I have slain this Pelleas whom ye hate:

Behold his horse and armour. Open

gates,

And I will make you merry.'

And down they ran,

Her damsels, crying to their lady, 'Lo! Pelleas is dead-he told us-he that hath His horse and armour : will ye let him in? He slew him! Gawain, Gawain of the court,

Sir Gawain-there he waits below the wall,

Blowing his bugle as who should say him nay.

And so, leave given, straight on thro'

open door

Rode Gawain, whom she greeted courteously.

'Dead, is it so?' she ask'd. 'Ay, ay,'

said he,

And oft in dying cried upon your name.' 'Pity on him,' she answer'd, 'a good knight,

But never let me bide one hour at peace.' 'Ay,' thought Gawain, and you be fair

enow:

But I to your dead man have given my troth,

That whom ye loathe, him will I make you love.'

So those three days, aimless about the land,