sun:

In this poor gown he bade me clothe my. self,

When now we rode upon this fatal quest
Of honor, where no honor can be gain'd:
And this poor gown I will not cast aside
Until himself arise a living man,
And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough:
Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be:
I never loved, can never love but him:
Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness,
He being as he is, to let me be."

Then strode the brute Earl up and down
his hall,

And took his russet beard between his teeth;

Last, coming up quite close, and in his mood

Crying, “I count it of no more avail, Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you; Take my salute," unknightly with flat hand,

However lightly, smote her on the cheek.

Mounted, and reach'd a hand, and on his foot

She set her own and climb'd; he turn'd his face

And

kiss'd her climbing, and she cast

her arms

About him, and at once they rode away.

And never yet, since high in Paradise O'er the four rivers the first roses blew, Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind Than lived thro' her, who in that perilous

hour

Put hand to hand beneath her husband's heart,

And felt him hers again: she did not weep, But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist Like that which kept the heart of Eden green

Before the useful trouble of the rain: Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyes As not to see before them on the path, Right in the gateway of the bandit hold, A knight of Arthur's court, who laid his lance

In rest, and made as if to fall upon him. Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood, She, with her mind all full of what had

chanced,

Shriek'd to the stranger, "Slay not a dead man!"

but she,

Beholding it was Edyrn, son of Nudd, Was moved so much the more, and shriek'd again,

"O cousin, slay not him who gave you life.

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And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake: My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love;

I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm; And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him, Who love you, Prince, with something of the love

Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us.

For once, when I was up so high in pride That I was halfway down the slope to Hell,

By overthrowing me you threw me higher. Now, made a knight of Arthur's Table Round,

And since I knew this Earl, when I myself

Was half a bandit in my lawless hour,
I come the mouthpiece of our King to
Doorm

(The King is close behind me) bidding him Disband himself, and scatter all his

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To fear me, fear no longer, I am changed. Yourself were first the blameless cause to make

My nature's prideful sparkle in the blood
Break into furious flame; being repulsed
By Yniol and yourself, I schemed and
wrought

Until I overturn'd him; then set up
(With one main purpose ever at my heart)
My haughty jousts, and took a paramour;
Did her mock-honor as the fairest fair,
And, toppling over all antagonism,
So wax'd in pride, that I believed myself
Unconquerable, for I was wellnigh mad:
And, but for my main purpose in these
jousts,

I should have slain your father, seized yourself.

I lived in hope that sometime you would

He gave me, meaning to be rid of it. And all the penance the Queen laid upon

me

Was but to rest awhile within her court;
Where first as sullen as a beast new-caged,
And waiting to be treated like a wolf,
Because I knew my deeds were known, I
found,

Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn,
Such fine reserve and noble reticence,
Manners so kind, yet stately, such a grace
Of tenderest courtesy, that I began
To glance behind me at my former life,
And find that it had been the wolf's indeed:
And oft I talk'd with Dubric, the high
saint,

Who, with mild heat of holy oratory,
Subdued me somewhat to that gentleness,
Which, when it weds with manhood,
makes a man.

And you were often there about the Queen, But saw me not, or mark'd not if you saw; Nor did I care or dare to speak with you, But kept myself aloof till I was changed; And fear not, cousin; I am changed indeed."

He spoke, and Enid easily believed, Like simple noble natures, credulous Of what they long for, good in friend or foe, There most in those who most have done them ill.

And when they reach'd the camp the King himself

Advanced to greet them, and beholding her

Tho' pale, yet happy, ask'd her not a word, But went apart with Edyrn, whom he held In converse for a little, and return'd, And, gravely smiling, lifted her from horse,

And kiss'd her with all pureness, brotherlike,

And show'd an empty tent allotted her, And glancing for a minute, till he saw her Pass into it, turn'd to the Prince, and said:

"Prince, when of late ye pray'd me for my leave

To move to your own land, and there defend

Your marches, I was prick'd with some reproof,

As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be, By having look'd too much thro' alien eyes, And wrought too long with delegated hands,

Not used mine own: but now behold

me come

To cleanse this common sewer of all my realm,

With Edyrn and with others have ye look'd

At Edyrn? have ye seen how nobly changed?

This work of his is great and wonderful. His very face with change of heart is changed.

The world will not believe a man repents: And this wise world of ours is mainly right.

Full seldom does a man repent, or use Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch

Of blood and custom wholly out of him, And make all clean, and plant himself afresh.

Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart
As I will weed this land before I go.
I, therefore, made him of our Table Round,
Not rashly, but have proved him everyway
One of our noblest, our most valorous,
Sanest and most obedient and indeed
This work of Edyrn wrought upon himself
After a life of violence, seems to me
A thousand-fold more great and wonderful
Than if some knight of mine, risking his
life,

:

But while Geraint lay healing of his hurt,

The blameless King went forth and cast his eyes

On each of all whom Uther left in charge Long since, to guard the justice of the King:

He look'd and found them wanting; and

as now

Men weed the white horse on the Berkshire hills

MERLIN AND VIVIEN.

A STORM was coming, but the winds were still,

And in the wild woods of Broceliande, Before an oak, so hollow huge and old It look'd a tower of ruin'd masonwork, At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.

The wily Vivien stole from Arthur's court:

He rested well content that all was well. Thence after tarrying for a space they rode, And fifty knights rode with them to the shores

Of Severn, and they past to their own land. And there he kept the justice of the King So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died: And being ever foremost in the chase, And victor at the tilt and tournament, They call'd him the great Prince and man of men.

But Enid, whom her ladies loved to call Enid the Fair, a grateful people named Enid the Good; and in their halls arose The cry of children, Enids and Geraints Of times to be; nor did he doubt her more But rested in her fealty, till he crown'd A happy life with a fair death, and fell Against the heathen of the Northern Sea In battle, fighting for the blameless King.

also Bard, and knew the starry heavens ;

The people call'd him Wizard; whom at first

She play'd about with slight and sprightly talk,

And vivid smiles, and faintly-venom'd points

Of slander, glancing here and grazing there;

And yielding to his kindlier moods, the Seer

Would watch her at her petulance, and play,

Ev'n when they seem'd unlovable, and laugh