However that might chance! but an he work,

Like any pigeon will I cram his crop, And sleeker shall he shine than any hog."

Then Lancelot standing near, "Sir Seneschal, Sleuth-hound thou knowest, and gray, and all the hounds;

A horse thou knowest, a man thou dost not know:

Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair and fine,

High nose, a nostril large and fine, and hands Large, fair and fine! mystery

Some young lad's

In battle twice, and Lancelot once the King's

For Lancelot was the first in Tournament, But Arthur mightiest on the battlefield

Gareth was glad. Or if some other told, How once the wandering forester at dawn,

Far over the blue tarns and hazy seas,

Is noble-natured. Treat him with all

grace,

spake,

"He passes to the Isle Avilion,

ing of him."

die

Gareth was glad. But if their talk were foul,

Then would he whistle rapid as any lark, Or carol some old roundelay, and so loud

That first they mock'd, but, after, reverenced him.

Or Gareth telling some prodigious tale Of knights, who sliced a red life-bubbling way

Thro' twenty folds of twisted dragon, held

All in a gap-mouth'd circle his good mates

Lying or sitting round him, idle hands, Charm'd; till Sir Kay, the seneschal,

would come

Blustering upon them, like a sudden wind

Among dead leaves, and drive them all apart.

Or when the thralls had sport among themselves,

So there were any trial of mastery,
He, by two yards in casting bar or stone,
Was counted best; and if there chanced
a joust,

So that Sir Kay nodded him leave to go, Would hurry thither, and when he saw the knights

Clash like the coming and retiring wave, And the spear spring, and good horse reel, the boy

Was half beyond himself for ecstasy.

So for a month he wrought among the thralls;

But in the weeks that follow'd, the good Queen,

Repentant of the word she made him

swear,

| Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness, And, loving, utter faithfulness in love, And uttermost obedience to the King.'

Then Gareth, lightly springing from his knees,

his vow.

This, Gareth hearing from a squire of Lot

With whom he used to play at tourney once,

When both were children, and in lonely haunts

Would scratch a ragged oval on the sand,

And each at either dash from either end

Shame never made girl redder than Gareth joy.

He laugh'd; he sprang. "Out of the smoke, at once

I leap from Satan's foot to Peter's knee

These news be mine, none other's- nay, the King's

Descend into the city" sought

whereon he

drinks ! And as for love, God wot, I love not yet, But love I shall, God willing."

And the King

"Make thee my knight in secret? yea, but he,

Our noblest brother, and our truest man, And one with me in all, he needs must know."

"Let Lancelot know, my King, let Lancelot know,

Thy noblest and thy truest!"

And the King"But wherefore would ye men should wonder at you?

Nay, rather for the sake of me, their King,

And the deed's sake my knighthood do the deed, Than to be noised of."

Merrily Gareth ask'd, "Have I not earn'd my cake in baking

of it?

Let be my name until I make my name! My deeds will speak: it is but for a day." So with a kindly hand on Gareth's arm Smiled the great King, and half-unwillingly

Loving his lusty youthhood yielded to him. Then, after summoning Lancelot privily, "I have given him the first quest: he is not proven.

Look therefore when he calls for this in hall,

Thou get to horse and follow him far away.

Cover the lions on thy shield, and see Far as thou mayest, he be nor ta'en nor slain."

Then that same day there past into

the hall

A damsel of high lineage, and a brow

som,

Rest would I not, Sir King, an I were king,

Then Arthur mindful of Sir Gareth ask'd,

"Damsel, ye know this Order lives to crush But say,

All wrongers of the Realm. these four,

Who be they? What the fashion of the men?"

"They be of foolish fashion, O Sir King, The fashion of that old knight-errantry Who ride abroad and do but what they will;

cloth

of these

Proud in their fantasy call themselves the Day, Morning-Star, and Noon-Sun, and Evening-Star,

Being strong fools; and never a whit more wise

The fourth, who alway rideth arm'd in black,

A huge man-beast of boundless savagery. He names himself the Night and oftener Death,

And wears a helmet mounted with a skull And bears a skeleton figured on his arms, To show that who may slay or scape the three

Slain by himself shall enter endless night. And all these four be fools, but mighty

Sir Gareth strode, and saw without the door

King Arthur's gift, the worth of half a town,

A warhorse of the best, and near it stood The two that out of north had follow'd him :

This bare a maiden shield, a casque; that held

The horse, the spear; whereat Sir Gareth loosed

A cloak that dropt from collar-bone to heel,

A cloth of roughest web, and cast it down, And from it like a fuel-smother'd fire, That lookt half-dead, brake bright, and flash'd as those

Dull-coated things, that making slide apart

Their dusk wing-cases, all beneath there burns

A jewel'd harness, ere they pass and fly. So Gareth ere he parted flash'd in arms. Then while he donn'd the helm, and took the shield

And mounted horse and graspt a spear, of grain

Storm-strengthen'd on a windy site, and tipt

With trenchant steel, around him slowly prest

The people, and from out of kitchen came The thralls in throng, and seeing who had work'd

Lustier than any, and whom they could but love,

Mounted in arms, threw up their caps

and cried,

"God bless the King, and all his fellowship!"