Beyond my knowing of them, beautiful, Beyond all knowing of them, wonderful, Beautiful in the light of holiness.
And 'O my brother, Percivale,' she said, 'Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail: For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound As of a silver horn from o'er the hills Blown, and I thought it is not Arthur's use To hunt by moonlight, and the slender sound As from a distance beyond distance grew Coming upon me,-O never harp nor horn,
In his own chair, and so was lost; but he, Galahad, when he heard of Merlin's doom, Cried, 'If I lose myself I save myself!'
"Then on a summer night it came to pass, While the great banquet lay along the hall, That Galahad would sit down in Merlin's chair.
"And all at once, as there we sat, we heard A cracking and a riving of the roofs, And rending, and a blast, and overhead
Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand, Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry. Was like that music as it came; and then Stream'd thro' my cell a cold and silver beam, And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail, Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive, Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed With rosy colors leaping on the wall; And then the music faded, and the Grail Passed, and the beam decay'd, and from the walls The rosy quiverings died into the night. So now the Holy Thing is here again Among us, brother, fast thou too and pray, And tell thy brother knights to fast and pray, That so perchance the vision may be seen By thee and those, and all the world be heal'd.'
And in the blast there smote along the hall
A beam of light seven times more clear than day: And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail All over cover'd with a luminous cloud, And none might see who bare it, and it past. But every knight beheld his fellow's face As in a glory, and all the knights arose, And staring each at other like dumb men Stood, till I found a voice and sware a vow.
"Then leaving the pale nun, I spake of this To all men; and myself fasted and pray'd Always, and many among us many a week Fasted and pray'd even to the uttermost, Expectant of the wonder that would be.
"And one there was among us, ever moved Among us in white armor, Galahad. 'God make thee good as thou art beautiful,' Said Arthur, when he dubb'd him knight; and none, In so young youth, was ever made a knight Till Galahad; and this Galahad, when he heard My sister's vision, fill'd me with amaze; His eyes became so like her own, they seem'd Hers, and himself her brother more than I.
"Sister or brother none had he; but some Call'd him a son of Lancelot, and some said Begotten by enchantment,-chatterers, they, Like birds of passage piping up and down That gape for flies, we know not whence they come ; For when was Lancelot wanderingly lewd?
"But she, the wan, sweet maiden shore away Clean from her forehead all that wealth of hair Which made a silken mat-work for her feet; And out of this she plaited broad and long A strong sword-belt, and wove with silver thread And crimson in the belt a strange device, A crimson grail within a silver beam; And saw the bright boy-knight, and bound it on him Saying, 'My knight, my love, my knight of heaven. O thou, my love, whose love is one with mine, I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind my belt. Go forth, for thou shalt see what I have seen, And break thro' all, till one will crown thee king Far in the spiritual city:' and as she spake She sent the deathless passion in her eyes Thro' him, and made him hers, and laid her mind On him, and he believed in her belief.
"Then came a year of miracle: O brother, In our great hall there stood a vacant chair, Fashion'd by Merlin ere he past away, And carven with strange figures; and in and out The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll Of letters in a tongue no man could read. And Merlin call'd it 'The Siege perilous,' Perilous for good and ill; 'for there,' he said, 'No man could sit but he should lose himself:' And once by misadvertence Merlin sat
"I sware a vow before them all, that I Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it, Until I found and saw it, as the nun My sister saw it; and Galahad sware the vow. And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's cousin, sware, And Lancelot sware, and many among the knights, And Gawain sware, and louder than the rest.
Then spake the monk Ambrosius, asking him, "What said the king? Did Arthur take the vow?"
"Nay, for, my lord, (said Percivale,) the king Was not in Hall: for early that same day, 'Scaped thro' a cavern from a bandit hold, An outraged maiden sprang into the hall Crying on help; for all her shining hair Was smear'd with earth, and either milky arm Red-rent with hooks of bramble, and all she wore Torn as a sail, that leaves the rope, is torn In tempest: so the king arose and went To smoke the scandalous hive of those wild bees That made such honey in his realm: howbeit Some little of this marvel he too saw, Returning o'er the plain that then began To darken under Camelot; whence the king Look'd up, calling aloud, 'Lo there! the roofs Of our great Hall are rolled in thunder-smoke! Pray Heaven they be not smitten by the bolt.' For dear to Arthur was that hall of ours, As having there so oft with all his knights Feasted, and as the stateliest under heaven.
"O brother, had you known our mighty hall, Which Merlin built for Arthur long ago! For all the sacred Mount of Camelot, And all the dim rich city, roof by roof, Tower after tower, spire beyond spire, By grove, and garden-lawn, and rushing brook, Climbs to the mighty hall that Merlin built. And four great zones of sculpture, set betwixt With many a mystic symbol, gird the hall; I And in the lowest beasts are slaying men, And in the second men are slaying beasts, And on the third are warriors, perfect men, And on the fourth are men with growing wings, And over all one statue in the mould
Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a crown, And peak'd wings pointed to the Northern Star. And eastward fronts the statue, and the crown And both the wings are made of gold, and flame At sunrise till the people in far fields, Wasted so often by the heathen hordes, Behold it, crying, 'We have still a king.'
Where twelve great windows blazon Arthur's wars, And all the light that falls upon the board Streams thro' the twelve great battles of our king. Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end, Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere, Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur. And also one to the west, and counter to it, And blank: and who shall blazon it? when and how? O then, perchance, when all our wars are done, The brand Excalibur will be cast away.
"So to this hall full quickly rode the king, In horror lest the work by Merlin wrought, Dreamlike, should on the sudden vanish, wrapt In unremorseful folds of rolling fire. And in he rode, and up I glanced, and saw The golden dragon sparkling over all:
And many of those who burnt the hold, their arms Hack'd, and their foreheads grimed with smoke, and sear'd,
Follow'd, and in among bright faces, ours Full of the vision, prest: and then the King Spake to me, being nearest, 'Percivale,' (Because the Hall was all in tumult-some Vowing, and some protesting,) 'what is this?'
"O brother, when I told him what had chanced, My sister's vision, and the rest, his face Darken'd, as I have seen it more than once, When some brave deed seem'd to be done in vain, Darken; and 'Woe is me, my knights!' he cried, 'Had I been here, ye had not sworn the vow.' Bold was mine answer, 'Had thyself been here, My king, thou wouldst have sworn.' 'Yea, yea,' said he,
'Art thou so bold and hast not seen the grail?'
"Nay, Lord, I heard the sound, I saw the light, But since I did not see the Holy Thing,
I sware a vow to follow it till I saw.'
| Your places being vacant at my side, The chance of noble deeds will come and go Unchallenged, while you follow wandering fires Lost in the quagmire: many of you, yea most, Return no more: ye think I show myself Too dark a prophet: come now, let us meet The morrow morn once more in one full field Of gracious pastime, that once more the king, Before you leave him for this quest, may count The yet unbroken strength of all his knights, Rejoicing in that Order which he made.'
"So when the sun broke next from underground, All the great table of our Arthur closed And clash'd in such a tourney and so full, So many lances broken,-never yet Had Camelot seen the like since Arthur came. And I myself and Galahad, for a strength Was in us from the vision, overthrew So many knights that all the people cried, And almost burst the barriers in their heat, Shouting 'Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale !'
"But when the next day brake from under- ground,-
O brother, had you known our Camelot, Built by old kings, age after age, so old
The king himself had fears that it would fall,
So strange and rich, and dim; for where the roofs Totter'd toward each other in the sky
Met foreheads all along the street of those Who watch'd us pass; and lower, and where the long
Rich galleries, lady-laden, weigh'd the necks Of dragons clinging to the crazy walls, Thicker than drops from thunder showers of flowers Fell, as we past; and men and boys astride On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan,
At all the corners, named us each by name, Calling 'God speed!' but in the street below The knights and ladies wept, and rich and poor
"Then when he asked us, knight by knight, if any Wept, and the king himself could hardly speak Had seen it, all their answers were as one, 'Nay, Lord, and therefore have we sworn our vows.'
""Lo now,' said Arthur, 'have ye seen a cloud? What go ye into the wilderness to see?'
"Then Galahad on the sudden, and in a voice Shrilling along the hall to Arthur, call'd, 'But I, Sir Arthur, saw the Holy Grail, I saw the Holy Grail and heard a cry
O Galahad, and O Galahad, follow me.'
For sorrow, and in the middle street the queen, Who rode by Lancelot, wail'd and shriek'd aloud, "This madness has come on us for our sins.' And then we reach'd the weirdly sculptured gate, Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically, And thence departed every one his way.
And I was lifted up in heart, and thought Of all my late-shown prowess in the lists, How my strong lance had beaten down the knights, So many and famous names; and never yet Had heaven appear'd so blue, nor earth so green,
"Ah, Galahad, Galahad,' said the King, 'for such For all my blood danced in me, and I knew
As thou art is the vision, not for these. Thy holy nun and thou have seen a sign; Holier is none, my Percivale, than she,— A sign to maim this Order which I made. But you, that follow but the leader's bell,' (Brother, the king was hard upon his knights,) 'Taliessin is our fullest throat of song, And one hath sung and all the dumb will sing. Lancelot is Lancelot, and hath overborne Five knights at once, and every younger knight, Unproven, holds himself as Lancelot, Till, overborne by one, he learns, and ye, What are ye? Galahads,-no, nor Percivales' (For thus it pleased the king to range me close After Sir Galahad); 'nay,' said he, 'but men With strength and will to right the wrong'd, of power To lay the sudden heads of violence flat, Knights that in twelve great battles splash'd and dyed The strong White Horse in his own heathen blood,- But one hath seen, and all the blind will see. Go, since your vows are sacred, being made,— Yet, for ye know the cries of all my realm Pass thro' this hall, how often, O my knights,
That I should light upon the Holy Grail.
"Thereafter, the dark warning of our king, That most of us would follow wandering fires, Came like a driving gloom across my mind. Then every evil word I had spoken once, And every evil thought I had thought of old, And every evil deed I ever did, Awoke and cried, 'This quest is not for thee.' And lifting up mine eyes, I found myself Alone, and in a land of sand and thorns, And I was thirsty even unto death; And I, too, cried, 'This quest is not for thee.'
"And on I rode, and when I thought my thirst Would slay me, saw deep lawns, and then a brook, With one sharp rapid, where the crisping white Play'd ever back upon the sloping wave, And took both ear and eye; and o'er the brook Were apple-trees, and apples by the brook Fallen, and on the lawns, 'I will rest here,' I said, 'I am not worthy of the quest;' But even while I drank the brook, and ate
The goodly apples, all these things at once Fell into dust, and I was left alone, And thirsting, in a land of sand and thorns.
"And then behold a woman at a door Spinning, and fair the house whereby she sat; And kind the woman's eyes and innocent, And all her bearing gracious; and she rose Opening her arms to meet me, as who should say, 'Rest here,' but when I touched her, lo! she too Fell into dust and nothing, and the house Became no better than a broken shed, And in it a dead babe; and also this Fell into dust, and I was left alone.
"And on I rode, and greater was my thirst. Then flash'd a yellow gleam across the world, And where it smote the ploughshare in the field, The ploughman left his ploughing, and fell down Before it; where it glitter'd on her pail, The milkmaid left her milking, and fell down Before it, and I knew not why; but thought 'The sun is rising,' tho' the sun had risen. Then was I ware of one that on me moved In golden armor, with a crown of gold About a casque all jewels; and his horse In golden armor jewell'd everywhere: And on the splendor came, flashing me blind; And seem'd to me the Lord of all the world, Being so huge: but when I thought he meant To crush me, moving on me, lo! he too Opened his arms to embrace me as he came, And up I went and touch'd him, and he too Fell into dust, and I was left alone And wearied in a land of sand and thorns.
"And on I rode and found a mighty hill, And on the top a city wall'd: the spires Prick'd with incredible pinnacles into heaven. And by the gateway stirr'd a crowd; and these Cried to me, climbing, 'Welcome, Percivale! Thou mightiest and thou purest among men !' And glad was I and clomb, but found at top No man, nor any voice; and thence I past Far thro' a ruinous city, and I saw
And there the hermit slaked my burning thirst; And at the sacring of the mass I saw
The holy elements alone, but he
'Saw ye no more? I, Galahad, saw the Grail, The Holy Grail, descend upon the shrine: I saw the fiery face as of a child That smote itself into the bread, and went, And hither am I come; and never yet Hath what thy sister taught me first to see, This holy thing, fail'd from my side, nor come Cover'd, but moving with me night and day, Fainter by day, but always in the night Blood-red, and sliding down the blacken'd marsh Blood-red, and on the naked mountain top Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere below Blood-red: and in the strength of this I rode Shattering all evil customs everywhere,
And past thro' Pagan realms, and made them mine, And clash'd with Pagan hordes, and bore them down, And broke thro' all, and in the strength of this Come victor: but my time is hard at hand, And hence I go; and one will crown me king Far in the spiritual city; and come thou too, For thou shalt see the vision when I go.'
"While thus he spake, his eye, dwelling on mine, Drew me, with power upon me, till I grew One with him, to believe as he believed. Then when the day began to wane we went.
"Then rose a hill that none but man couid climb, Scarr'd with a hundred wintry watercourses,— Storm at the top, and, when we gain'd it, storm Round us and death; for every moment glanced His silver arms and gloom'd; so quick and thick The lightnings here and there to left and right Struck, till the dry old trunks about us, dead, Yea, rotten with a hundred years of death, Sprang into fire: and at the base we found On either hand, as far as eye could see, A great black swamp and of an evil smell, Part black, part whiten'd with the bones of men, Not to be crost save that some ancient king Had built a way, where, linked with many a bridge, A thousand piers ran into the Great Sea.
That man had once dwelt there; but there I found And Galahad fled along them bridge by bridge,
Only one man of an exceeding age.
'Where is that goodly company,' said I,
That so cried upon me?' and he had
Scarce any voice to answer, and yet gasp'd
And every bridge as quickly as he crost Sprang into fire and vanish'd, tho' I yearn'd To follow; and thrice above him all the heavens Open'd and blazed with thunder such as seem'd
'Whence and what art thou?' and even as he spoke Shoutings of all the sons of God: and first
Fell into dust, and disappear'd, and I
Was left alone once more, and cried, in grief,
'Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself,
And touch it, it will crumble into dust.'
"And thence I dropt into a lowly vale, Low as the hill was high, and where the vale Was lowest found a chapel, and thereby A holy hermit in a hermitage,
To whom I told my phantoms, and he said:
"O son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all; For when the Lord of all things made Himself Naked of glory for His mortal change, "Take thou my robe," she said, "for all is thine," And all her form shone forth with sudden light So that the angels were amazed, and she Follow'd him down, and like a flying star Led on the gray-hair'd wisdom of the East; But her thou hast not known: for what is this Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins? Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself As Galahad.' When the hermit made an end, In silver armor suddenly Galahad shone Before us, and against the chapel door Laid lance, and entered, and we knelt in prayer.
At once I saw him far on the great sea, In silver-shining armor starry-clear; And o'er his head the holy vessel hung Clothed in white samite or a luminous cloud. And with exceeding swiftness ran the boat, If boat it were,-I saw not whence it came. And when the heavens open'd and blazed again Roaring, I saw him like a silver star,- And had he set the sail, or had the boat Become a living creature clad with wings? And o'er his head the holy vessel hung Redder than any rose, a joy to me, For now I knew the veil had been withdrawn. Then in a moment when they blazed again Opening, I saw the least of little stars Down on the waste, and straight beyond the star
I saw the spiritual city and all her spires
And gateways in a glory like one pearl,
No larger, tho' the goal of all the saints, Strike from the sea; and from the star there shot A rose-red sparkle to the city, and there Dwelt, and I knew it was the Holy Grail, Which never eyes on earth again shall see. Then fell the floods of heaven drowning the deep. And how my feet recross'd the deathful ridge No memory in me lives; but that I touch'd The chapel-doors at dawn, I know; and thence
Taking my war-horse from the holy man, Glad that no phantom vext me more, return'd To whence I came, the gate of Arthur's wars."
"O brother," ask'd Ambrosius, "for in sooth These ancient books - and they would win theeteem,
Only I find not there this Holy Grail, With miracles and marvels like to these, Not all unlike; which oftentime I read, Who read but on my breviary with ease,
Till my head swims; and then go forth and pass Down to the little thorpe that lies so close, And almost plaster'd like a martin's nest To these old walls,-and mingle with our folk; And knowing every honest face of theirs, As well as ever shepherd knew his sheep, And every homely secret in their hearts, Delight myself with gossip and old wives, And ills and aches, and teethings, lyings-in, And mirthful sayings, children of the place, That have no meaning half a league away: Or lulling random squabbles when they rise, Chafferings and chatterings at the market-cross, Rejoice, small man, in this small world of mine, Yea, even in their hens and in their eggs: O brother, saving this Sir Galahad Came ye on none but phantoms in your quest, No man, no woman?"
Then Sir Percivale : "All men to one so bound by such a vow And women were as phantoms. O my brother, Why wilt thou shame me to confess to thee How far I falter'd from my quest and vow? For after I had lain so many nights
A bedmate of the snail and eft and snake, In grass and burdock, I was changed to wan And meagre, and the vision had not come. And then I chanced upon a goodly town With one great dwelling in the middle of it; Whither I made, and there was I disarmed By maidens each as fair as any flower: But when they led me into hall, behold The Princess of that castle was the one, Brother, and that one only, who had ever Made my heart leap; for when I moved of old A slender page about her father's hall, And she a slender maiden, all my heart Went after her with longing: yet we twain Had never kiss'd a kiss, or vow'd a vow. And now I came upon her once again, And one had wedded her, and he was dead, And all his land and wealth and state were hers. And while I tarried, every day she set A banquet richer than the day before By me; for all her longing and her will Was toward me as of old; till one fair morn, I walking to and fro beside a stream That flash'd across her orchard underneath 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, And gave herself and all her wealth to me. 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 any thing 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 so," 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-Lancelot? Once,' 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 returned; 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 Rode to the lonest tract of all the realm, 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 wordsA 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 celi 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,' Said good Sir Bors, 'beyond all hopes of mine, Who scarce had pray'd or ask'd it for myself,- Across the seven clear stars,-O grace to me!- In color like the fingers of a hand Before a burning taper, the sweet Grail Glided and past, and close upon it peal'd A charp quick thunder:' afterwards a maid Who kept our holy faith among her kin In secret, entering, loosed and let him go."
To whom the monk: "And I remember now That pelican on the casque: Sir Bors it was Who spake so low and sadly at our board; And mighty reverent at our grace was he: A square-set man and honest; and his eyes, An out-door sign of all the warmth within, Smiled with his lips,-a smile beneath a cloud, But Heaven had meant it for a sunny one: Ay, ay, Sir Bors, who else? but when ye reach'd The city, found ye all your knights return'd, Or was there sooth in Arthur's prophecy? Tell me, and what said each, and what the king."
Then answer'd Percivale, "And that can I, Brother, and truly; since the living words Of so great men as Lancelot and our king Pass not from door to door and out again, But sit within the house. O, when we reach'd The city, our horses stumbling as they trode On heaps of ruin, hornless unicorns, Crack'd basilisks, and splinter'd cockatrices, And shatter'd talbots, which had left the stones Raw, that they fell from, brought us to the hall.
"And there sat Arthur on the daïs-throne, And those that had gone out upon the Quest,- Wasted and worn, and but a tithe of them,- And those that had not, stood before the king. Who, when he saw me, rose, and bade me hail, Saying, 'A welfare in thine eye reproves Our fear of some disastrous chance for thee On hill, or plain, at sea, or flooding ford. So fierce a gale made havoc here of late Among the strange devices of our kings; Yea, shook this newer, stronger hall of ours, And from the statue Merlin moulded for us
Half wrench'd a golden wing; but now-the quest, This vision-hast thou seen the holy cup, That Joseph brought of old to Glastonbury ?'
"So when I told him all thyself hast heard, Ambrosius, and my fresh but fixt resolve To pass away into the quiet life,
He answer'd not, but, sharply turning, ask'd Of Gawain, 'Gawain, was this quest for thee?'
"Nay, lord,' said Gawain, 'not for such as I. Therefore I communed with a saintly man, Who made me sure the quest was not for me. For I was much awearied of the quest. But found a silk pavilion in a field, And merry maidens in it; and then this gale Tore my pavilion from the tenting-pin, And blew my merry maidens all about With all discomfort; yea, and but for this My twelvemonth and a day were pleasant to me.' "He ceased; and Arthur turn'd to whom at first He saw not, for Sir Bors, on entering, push'd Athwart the throng to Lancelot, caught his hand, Held it, and there, half hidden by him, stood, Until the king espied him, saying to him, 'Hail, Bors! if ever loyal man and true Could see it, thou hast seen the Grail,' and Bors, 'Ask me not, for I may not speak of it,
I saw it:' and the tears were in his eyes.
"Then there remain'd but Lancelot, for the rest Spake but of sundry perils in the storm, Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy Writ, Our Arthur kept his best until the last. 'Thou, too, my Lancelot,' ask'd the King, 'my friend, Our mightiest, hath this quest avail'd for thee?'
"Our mightiest answer'd Lancelot, with a groan, 'O king!' and when he paused, methought I spied A dying fire of madness in his eyes,
'O king, my friend, if friend of thine I be, Happier are those that welter in their sin, Swine in the mud, that cannot see for slime, Slime of the ditch;-but in me lived a sin So strange, of such a kind, that all of pure, Noble, and knightly in me twined and clung Round that one sin, until the wholesome flower And poisonous grew together, each as cach, Not to be pluck'd asunder; and when thy knights Sware, I sware with them only in the hope That could I touch or see the Holy Grail They might be pluck'd asunder: then I spake To one most holy saint, who wept and said That save they could be pluck'd asunder all My quest were but in vain; to whom I vow'd That I would work according as he will'd. And forth I went, and while I yearn'd and strove To tear the twain asunder in my heart, My madness came upon me as of old And whipt me into waste fields far away. There was I beaten down by little men, Mean knights, to whom the moving of my sword And shadow of my spear had been enow
To scare them from me once; and then I came All in my folly to the naked shore, Wide flats where nothing but coarse grasses grew, But such a blast, my king, began to blow, So loud a blast along the shore and sea, Ye could not hear the waters for the blast, Tho' heapt in mounds and ridges all the sea Drove like a cataract, and all the sand Swept like a river, and the clouded heavens Were shaken with the motion and the sound. And blackening in the sea-foam sway'd a boat Half-swallow'd in it, anchor'd with a chain; And in my madness to myself I said, "I will embark and I will lose myself, And in the great sea wash away my sin." Seven days I drove along the dreary deep, I burst the chain, I sprang into the boat. And with me drove the moon and all the stars; And the wind fell, and on the seventh night I heard the shingle grinding in the surge, And felt the boat shock earth, and looking up Behold the enchanted towers of Carbonek. A castle like a rock upon a rock, With chasm-like portals open to the sea, And steps that met the breaker: there was none Stood near it but a lion on each side, That kept the entry, and the moon was full. Then from the boat I leapt, and up the stairs. There drew my sword. With sudden-flaring manes Those two great beasts rose upright like a man, Each gript a shoulder, and I stood between, And, when I would have smitten them, heard a voice, "Doubt not, go forward; if thou doubt, the beasts Will tear thee piecemeal"; then with violence The sword was dash'd from out my hand and fell. And up into the sounding hall I past But nothing in the sounding hall I saw, No bench nor table, painting on the wall, Or shield of knight; only the rounded moon Thro' the tall oriel on the rolling sea. But always in the quiet house I heard, Clear as a lark, high o'er me as a lark, A sweet voice singing in the topmost tower To the eastward: up I climb'd a thousand steps With pain: as in a dream I seem'd to climb
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