Whereof the dwarf lagg'd latest, and the | And may ye light on all things that ye knight Made sharply to the dwarf, and ask'd it of him, Who answer'd as before; and when the Prince Had put his horse in motion toward the knight, Struck at him with his whip, and cut his cheek. The Prince's blood spirted upon the scarf, Dyeing it; and his quick, instinctive hand Caught at the hilt, as to abolish him : But he, from his exceeding manfulness And pure nobility of temperament, Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, refrain'd From ev'n a word, and so returning said: "I will avenge this insult, noble Queen, Done in your maiden's person to yourself: And I will track this vermin to their earths: For tho' I ride unarm'd, I do not doubt To find, at some place I shall come at, arms On loan, or else for pledge; and, being found, Then will I fight him, and will break his pride, And on the third day, will again be here, So that I be not fall'n in fight. Farewell." "Farewell, fair Prince," answer'd the stately Queen. "Be prosperous in this journey, as in all; And on one side a castle in decay, Beyond a bridge that spann'd a dry ravine: And out of town and valley came a noise As of a broad brook o'er a shingly bed Brawling, or like a clamor of the rooks At distance, ere they settle for the night. And onward to the fortress rode the three, And enter'd, and were lost behind the walls. "So," thought Geraint, "I have track'd him to his earth.” And down the long street riding wearily, Found every hostel full, and everywhere Was hammer laid to hoof, and the hot hiss And bustling whistle of the youth who scour'd His master's armor; and of such a one He ask'd, "What means the tumult in the town?" Who told him, scouring still "The sparrow-hawk!" Then riding close behind an ancient churl, Who, smitten by the dusty sloping beam, Went sweating underneath a sack of corn, Ask'd yet once more what meant the hubbub here? Who answer'd gruffly, row-hawk." "Beheld the long street of a little town In a long valley." Ugh! the spar- | Tits, wrens, and all wing'd nothings peck him dead! Came forward with the helmet yet in hand | Bare to the sun, and monstrous ivy-stems And answer'd, "Pardon me, O stranger Claspt the gray walls with hairy-fibred knight; We hold a tourney here to-morrow morn, And there is scantly time for half the work. Arms? truth! I know not all are wanted here. : Harborage? truth, good truth, I know not, save, It may be, at Earl Yniol's, o'er the bridge Yonder." He spoke and fell to work again. Then rode Geraint, a little spleenful yet, Across the bridge that spann'd the dry ravine. There musing sat the hoary-headed Earl, (His dress a suit of fray'd magnificence, Once fit for feasts of ceremony) and said · "Whither, fair son?" to whom Geraint replied, "O friend, I seek a harborage for the night." Then Yniol, "Enter therefore and partake The slender entertainment of a house Once rich, now poor, but ever opendoor'd." "Thanks, venerable friend,” replied Geraint; "So that ye do not serve me sparrowhawks For supper, I will enter, I will eat With all the passion of a twelve hours' fast." Then sigh'd and smiled the hoary-headed Earl, And answer'd, "Graver cause than yours is mine To curse this hedgerow thief, the sparrowhawk: But in, go in; for save yourself desire it, We will not touch upon him ev'n in jest." Then rode Geraint into the castle court, Hischarger trampling many a prickly star Of sprouted thistle on the broken stones. He look'd and saw that all was ruinous. Here stood a shatter'd archway plumed with fern; And here had fall'n a great part of a tower, Whole, like a crag that tumbles from the cliff, And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers: And high above a piece of turret stair, Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound arms, And suck'd the joining of the stones, and look'd A knot, beneath, of snakes, aloft, a grove. And while he waited in the castle court, The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang Clear thro' the open casement of the Hall, Singing; and as the sweet voice of a bird, Heard by the lander in a lonely isle, Moves him to think what kind of bird it is That sings so delicately clear, and make Conjecture of the plumage and the form; So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint; And made him like a man abroad at morn When first the liquid note beloved of staring crowd; "Turn, turn thy wheel above the | That lightly breaks a faded flower-sheath, Moved the fair Enid, all in faded silk, Her daughter. In a moment thought Geraint, 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 Right o'er a mount of newly-fallen stones, "Here by God's rood is the one maid for But none spake word except the hoary 66 '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. And near her, like a blossom vermeil- Our hoard is little, but our hearts are white, great." him, fain He spake the Prince, as Enid past | 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. To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol caught Rest! the good house, tho' ruin'd, O my Endures not that her guest should serve And reverencing the custom of the house 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, And Enid brought sweet cakes to make And in her veil enfolded, manchet bread. serve For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread And stood behind, and waited on the three. Let his eye rove in following, or rest "Fair Host and Earl, I pray your courtesy; His name? but no, good faith, I will not For if he be the knight whom late I saw I sworn 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 They would not hear me speak: but if sworn or if yourself me, seeing I have That I will break his pride and learn his name, Avenging this great insult done the Then cried Earl Yniol. "Art thou he indeed, Geraint, a name far-sounded among men your state And presence might have guess'd you one That eat in Arthur's hall at Camelot. Your feats of arms, and often when I Hath ask'd again, and ever loved to hear; Drunk even when he woo'd; and be he I know not, but he past to the wild land. The second was your foe, the sparrowhawk, My curse, my nephew-I will not let his name Slip from my lips if I can help it - he, lent Refused her to him, then his pride awoke; mean, He sow'd a slander in the common ear, |