He spake the Prince, as Enid past him, fain To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol caught His purple scarf, and held, and said, "Forbear! Rest! the good house, tho' ruin'd, O my Son, Endures not that her guest should serve himself." And reverencing the custom of the house Geraint, from utter courtesy, forbore.

And after went her way across the bridge,

And reach'd the town, and while the Prince and Earl Yet spoke together, came again with one,

A youth, that following with a costrel bore

The means of goodly welcome, flesh and wine.

And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them cheer,

And in her veil enfolded, manchet bread.

And then, because their hall must also serve

For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread the board,

And stood behind, and waited on the three.
And seeing her so sweet and serviceable,
Geraint had longing in him evermore

To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb,
That crost the trencher as she laid it down:
But after all had eaten, then Geraint,

For now the wine made summer in his veins,
Let his eye rove in following, or rest
On Enid at her lowly handmaid-work,
Now here, now there, about the dusky hall;
Then suddenly addrest the hoary Earl :

"Fair Host and Earl, I pray your courtesy ;
This sparrow-hawk, what is he, tell me of him.
His name? but no, good faith, I will not have it :
For if he be the knight whom late I saw
Ride into that new fortress by your town,
White from the mason's hand, then have I sworn
From his own lips to have it - I am Geraint
Of Devon-for this morning when the Queen
Sent her own maiden to demand the name,
His dwarf, a vicious under-shapen thing,

Struck at her with his whip, and she return'd
Indignant to the Queen; and then I swore
That I would track this caitiff to his hold,

And fight and break his pride, and have it of him.
And all unarm'd I rode, and thought to find
Arms in your town, where all the men are mad;
They take the rustic murmur of their bourg

For the great wave that echoes round the world;
They would not hear me speak: but if you know
Where I can light on arms, or if yourself
Should have them, tell me, seeing I have sworn
That I will break his pride and learn his name,
Avenging this great insult done the Queen."

Then cried Earl Yniol. "Art thou he indeed, Geraint, a name far-sounded among men. For noble deeds? and truly I, when first

I saw you moving by me on the bridge,

Felt you were somewhat, yea and by your state

And presence might have guess'd you one of those

That eat in Arthur's hall at Camelot.

Nor speak I now from foolish flattery;

For this dear child hath often heard me praise
Your feats of arms, and often when I paused
Hath ask'd again, and ever loved to hear;
So grateful is the noise of noble deeds
To noble hearts who see but acts of wrong:
O never yet had woman such a pair
Of suitors as this maiden; first Limours,
A creature wholly given to brawls and wine,
Drunk even when he woo'd; and be he dead

I know not, but he past to the wild land.

The second was your foe, the sparrow-hawk,
My curse, my nephew, - I will not let his name
Slip from my lips if I can help it — he,
When I that knew him fierce and turbulent
Refused her to him, then his pride awoke;
And since the proud man often is the mean,
He sow'd a slander in the common ear,

Affirming that his father left him gold,

And in my charge, which was not render'd to him;
Bribed with large promises the men who served
About my person, the more easily

Because my means were somewhat broken into
Thro' open doors and hospitality;

Raised my own town against me in the night
Before my Enid's birthday, sack'd my house;
From mine own earldom foully ousted me;
Built that new fort to overawe my friends,
For truly there are those who love me yet;
And keeps me in this ruinous castle here,
Where doubtless he would put me soon to death,
But that his pride too much despises me:

And I myself sometimes despise myself;
For I have let men be, and have their way;
And much too gentle, have not used my power:

Nor know I whether I be very base
Or very manful, whether very wise
Or very foolish; only this I know,
That whatsoever evil happen to me,
I seem to suffer nothing heart or limb,
But can endure it all most patiently."

"Well said, true heart," replied Geraint, "but arms: That if, as I suppose, your nephew fights

In next day's tourney, I may break his pride."

And Yniol answer'd: "Arms, indeed, but old
And rusty, old and rusty, Prince Geraint,
Are mine, and therefore at your asking, yours.
But in this tournament can no man tilt,
Except the lady he loves best be there.
Two forks are fixt into the meadow ground,
And over these is laid a silver wand,
And over that is placed the sparrow-hawk,
The prize of beauty for the fairest there.
And this, what knight soever be in field
Lays claim to for the lady at his side,
And tilts with my good nephew thereupon,
Who being apt at arms and big of bone
Has ever won it for the lady with him,
And toppling over all antagonism

Has earn'd himself the name of sparrow-hawk.
that have no lady, cannot fight."

But

you,

To whom Geraint with eyes all bright replied,
Leaning a little toward him, "Your leave!
Let me lay lance in rest, O noble host,
For this dear child, because I never saw,
Tho' having seen all beauties of our time,
Nor can see elsewhere, anything so fair.
And if I fall, her name will yet remain
Untarnish'd as before; but if I live,