Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;

Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;

Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.'

'Hark, by the bird's song you may learn the nest' Entering then,

Said Yniol; Enter quickly.'

Right o'er a mount of newly-fallen stones,

The dusky-rafter'd many-cobweb'd Hall,
He found an ancient dame in dim brocade;
And near her, like a blossom vermeil-white,
That lightly breaks a faded flower-sheath,
Moved the fair Enid, all in faded silk,
Her daughter. In a moment thought Geraint,
'Here by God's rood is the one maid for me.'
But none spake word except the hoary Earl :
'Enid, the good knight's horse stands in the court;

Take him to stall, and give him corn, and then

Go to the town and buy us flesh and wine;

And we will make us merry as we may.

Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.'

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.

So Enid took his charger to the stall;

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

O never yet had woman such a pair

wrong:

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,