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.
Then Enid, in her utter helplessness,

And since she thought, "he had not dared to do it,

Except he surely knew my lord was dead,"
Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry,
As of a wild thing taken in the trap,

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

This heard Geraint, and grasping at his sword, (It lay beside him in the hollow shield), Made but a single bound, and with a sweep of it Shore through the swarthy neck, and like a ball The russet-bearded head rolled on the floor. So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead. And all the men and women in the hall Rose when they saw the dead man rise, and fled Yelling as from a spectre, and the two Were left alone together, and he said:

Enid, I have used you worse than that dead

man;

Done you more wrong: we both have undergone
That trouble which has left me thrice your own:
Henceforward I will rather die than doubt.
And here I lay this penance on myself,
Not, though mine own ears heard you yester-

morn

You thought me sleeping, but I heard you say,
I heard you say, that you were no true wife:
I swear I will not ask your meaning in it:
I do believe yourself against yourself,

And will henceforward rather die than doubt."

And Enid could not say one tender word,
She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart:
She only prayed him, "Fly, they will return
And slay you; fly, your charger is without,
My palfrey lost." "Then, Enid, shall you ride
Behind me." "Yea," said Enid, "let us go."
And moving out they found the stately horse,
Who now no more a vassal to the thief,
But free to stretch his limbs in lawful fight,
Neighed with all gladness as they came, and
stooped

With a low whinny toward the pair: and she
Kissed the white star upon his noble front,
Glad also; then Geraint upon the horse
Mounted, and reached a hand, and on his foot
She set her own and climbed; he turned his face
And kissed 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 through 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

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 half-way 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 powers,
Submit, and bear the judgment of the king."

"He hears the judgment of the King of Kings,"

Cried the wan Prince; "and lo the powers of Doorm

Are scattered," and he pointed to the field, Where, huddled here and there on mound and

knoll,

Were men and women staring and aghast,
While some yet fled; and then he plainlier told
How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall.
But when the knight besought him, "Follow me,
Prince, to the camp, and in the king's own ear
Speak what has chanced; you surely have en-
dured

Strange chances here alone;" that other flushed,
And hung his head, and halted in reply,
Fearing the mild face of the blameless king,
And after madness acted question asked;
Till Edyrn crying, "If you will not go

To Arthur, then will Arthur come to you,"
Enough," he said, "I follow," and they went.
But Enid in their going had two fears,
One from the bandit scattered in the field,
And one from Edyrn. Every now and then,
When Edyrn reined his charger at her side,
She shrank a little. In a hollow land,
From which old. fires have broken, men may
fear

Fresh fire and ruin. He, perceiving, said:

"Fair and dear cousin, you that most had

cause

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

Before the Queen's fair name was breathed upon,
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 passed 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 called 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 crowned
A happy life with a fair death, and fell
Against the heathen of the Northern Sea
In battle, fighting for the blameless King.

ELAINE.

ELAINE the fair, Elaine the lovable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;

Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray

Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
Then fearing rust or soilure, fashioned for it
A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazoned on the shield
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
A border fantasy of branch and flower,
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.
Nor rested thus content, but day by day
Leaving her household and good father climbed
That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,
Stripped off the case, and read the naked shield,
Now guessed a hidden meaning in his arms,
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it,
Conjecturing when and where: this cut is
fresh;

That ten years back; this dealt him at Caerlyle;

That at Caerleon; this at Camelot :

And ah God's mercy what a stroke was there! And here a thrust that might have killed, but God

Broke the strong lance, and rolled his enemy down,

And saved him: so she lived in fantasy.

How came the lily maid by that good shield Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name? He left it with her, when he rode to tilt For the great diamond in the diamond jousts, Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.

For Arthur when none knew from whence he came,

Long ere the people chose him for their king,

| Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse,
Had found a glen, gray boulder aud black tarn
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave
Like its own mists to all the mountain-side:
For here two brothers, one a king, had met
And fought together: but their names were lost.
And each had slain his brother at a blow,
And down they fell and made the glen ab-
horred:

And there they lay till all their bones were bleached,

And lichened into color with the crags:
And he that once was king had on a crown
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside.
And Arthur came, and laboring up the pass
All in a misty moonshine, unawares

Had trodden that crowned skeleton, and the

Now for the central diamond and the last And largest, Arthur, holding then his court Hard on the river nigh the place which now Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh Spake (for she had been sick) to Guinevere, "Are you so sick, my queen, you cannot move To these fair jousts?" "Yea, lord," she said, "you know it."

"Then will you miss," he answered, "the great deeds

Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists,
A sight you love to look on." And the
Queen

Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly
On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King.
He thinking that he read her meaning there,
"Stay with me, I am sick; my love is more
Than many diamonds," yielded, and a heart,
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen

(However much he yearned to make complete The tale of diamonds for his destined boon) Urged him to speak against the truth, and say, "Sir King, mine ancient wound is hardly whole, And lets me from the saddle;" and the King Glanced first at him, then her, and went his way.

No sooner gone than suddenly she began:

"To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, much to blame.

Why go you not to these fair jousts? the knights

Are half of them our enemies, and the crowd
Will murmur, lo the shameless ones, who take
Their pastime now the trustful king is gone!"
Then Lancelot, vexed at having lied in vain:
"Are you so wise? you were not once so wise,
My queen, that summer, when you loved me
first.

Then of the crowd you took no more account
Than of the myriad cricket of the mead,
When its own voice clings to each blade of

grass,

And every voice is nothing. As to knights,
Them surely can I silence with all ease.
But now my loyal worship is allowed
Of all men: many a bard, without offence,
Has linked our names together in his lay,
Lancelot the flower of bravery, Guinevere,
The pearl of beauty: and our knights at feast
Have pledged us in this union, while the king
Would listen smiling. How then? is there
more?

Has Arthur spoken aught? or would yourself,
Now weary of my service and devoir,
Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord?"

She broke into a little scornful laugh.
"Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless king,
That passionate perfection, my good lord-
But who can gaze upon the sun in heaven?
He never spake word of reproach to me,
He never had a glimpse of mine untruth,
He cares not for me: only here to-day
There gleamed a vague suspicion in his eyes:
Some meddling rogue has tampered with him-
else

Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round,
And swearing men to vows impossible,
To make them like himself: but, friend, to me
He is all fault who hath no fault at all:
For who loves me must have a touch of earth;
The low sun makes the color: I am yours,
Not Arthur's, as you know, save by the bond.
And therefore hear my words: go to the jousts:
The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream
When sweetest; and the vermin voices here
May buzz so loud-we scorn them, but they
sting."

Then answered Lancelot, the chief of knights:
And with what face, after my pretext made,
Shall I appear, O Queen, at Camelot, I
Before a king who honors his own word,
As if it were his God's?"

"Yea," said the Queen "A moral child without the craft to rule, Else had he not lost me: but listen to me, If I must find you wit: we hear it said

395

That men go down before your spear at a touch,
But knowing you are Lancelot; your great name,
This conquers: hide it therefore; go unknown:
Win! by this kiss you will: and our true king
Will then allow your pretext, O my knight,
As all for glory; for to speak him true,
You know right well, how meek soe'er he seem,
No keener hunter after glory breathes.
He loves it in his knights more than himself:
They prove to him his work: win and return."

Then got Sir Lancelot suddenly to horse,
Wroth at himself: not willing to be known,
He left the barren-beaten thoroughfare,
Chose the green path that showed the rarer foot,
And there among the solitary downs,
Full often lost in fancy, lost his way;
Till as he traced a faintly-shadowed track,
That all in loops and links among the dales
Ran to the Castle of Astolat, he saw

Fired from the west, far on a hill, the towers.
Thither he made and wound the gateway horn.
Then came an old, dumb, myriad-wrinkled man,
Who let him into lodging and disarmed.
And Lancelot marvelled at the wordless man;
And issuing found the Lord of Astolat
With two strong sons, Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine,
Moving to meet him in the castle court;
And close behind them stepped the lily maid
Elaine, his daughter: mother of the house
There was not: some light jest among them rose
With laughter dying down as the great knight
Approached them: then the Lord of Astolat:
"Whence comest thou, my guest, and by what

name

Livest between the lips? for by thy state
And presence I might guess thee chief of those,
After the king, who eat in Arthur's halls.
Him have I seen: the rest, his Table Round,
Known as they are, to me they are unknown."

Then answered Lancelot, the chief of knights: "Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, and known, What I by mere mischance have brought, ny shield.

But since I go to joust as one unknown
At Camelot for the diamond, ask me not,
Hereafter you shall know me--and the shield-
I pray you lend me one, if such you have,
Blank, or at least with some device not mine."

Then said the Lord of Astolat, "Here is
Torre's:

Hurt in his first tilt was my son, Sir Torre.
And so, God wot, his shield is blank enough.
His you can have." Then added plain Sir Torre,
"Yea since I cannot use it, you may have it."
Here laughed the father, saying, "Fie, Sir Churl,
Is that an answer for a noble knight?
Allow him but Lavaine, my younger here,
He is so full of lustihood, he will ride
Joust for it, and win and bring it in an hour
And set it in this damsel's golden hair,
To make her thrice as wilful as before."

"Nay, father, nay good father, shame me not Before this noble knight," said young Lavaine, "For nothing. Surely I but played on Torre: He seemed so sullen, vexed he could not go: A jest, no more: for, knight, the maiden dreamed

That some one put this diamond in her hand,
And that it was too slippery to be held,
And slipped and fell into some pool or stream,
The castle-well, belike; and then I said
That if I went and if I fought and won it
(But all was jest and joke among ourselves)
Then must she keep it safelier. All was jest.
But father give me leave, an if he will,
To ride to Camelot with this noble knight:
Win shall I not, but do my best to win:
Young as I am, yet would I do my best."

"So you will grace me," answered Lancelot, Smiling a moment, "with your fellowship O'er these waste downs whereon I lost myself, Then were I glad of you as guide and friend; And you shall win this diamond—as I hear, It is a fair large diamond-if you may, And yield it to this maiden, if you will." "A fair large diamond," added plain Sir Torre, "Such be for queens and not for simple maids." Then she, who held her eyes upon the ground, Elaine, and heard her name so tossed about, Flushed slightly at the slight disparagement Before the stranger knight, who, looking at her, Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus returned: "If what is fair be but for what is fair, And only queens are to be counted so,

Against my house, and him they caught and maimed;

But I, my sons and little daughter fled
From bonds or death, and dwelt among the
woods

By the great river in a boatman's hut.
Dull days were those, till our good Arthur broke
The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill,"

"Oh there, great Lord, doubtless," Lavaine said, rapt

By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth
Toward greatness in its elder, "you have fought.
Oh tell us; for we live apart, you know,
Of Arthur's glorious wars." And Lancelot
spoke.

And answered him at full, as having been
With Arthur in the fight which all day long
Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem;
And in the four wild battles by the shore
Of Duglas; that on Bassa; then the war
That thundered in and out the gloomy skirts
Of Celidon the forest; and again
By castle Gurnion where the glorious king
Had on his cuirass worn our Lady's Head,
Carved of one emerald, centred in a sun
Of silver rays, that lightened as he breathed;
And at Caerleon had he helped his lord,

maid

Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth, Not violating the bond of like to like."

He spoke and ceased: the lily maid Elaine, Won by the mellow voice before she looked, Lifted her eyes, and read his lineaments. The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, In battle with the love he bare his lord, Had marred his face, and marked it ere his time. Another sinning on such heights with one, The flower of all the west and all the world, Had been the sleeker for it: but in him His mood was often like a fiend, and rose And drove him into wastes and solitudes For agony, who was yet a living soul. Marred as he was, he seemed the goodliest man, That ever among ladies ate in hall,

And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes. However marred, of more than twice her years, Seamed with an ancient sword-cut on the cheek, And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes And loved him, with that love which was her doom.

Then the great knight, the darling of the court,

Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall
Stepped with all grace, and not with half disdain
Hid under grace, as in a smaller time,
But kindly man moving among his kind:
Whom they with meats and vintage of their best
And talk and minstrel melody entertained.
And much they asked of court and Table Round,
And ever well and readily answered he:
But Lancelot when they glanced at Guinevere,
Suddenly speaking of the wordless man,
Heard from the Baron that, ten years before,
The heathen caught and reft him of his tongue.
"He learned and warned me of their fierce de-
sign

6

Horse

Set every gilded parapet shuddering;
And up in Agned Cathregonion too,

And down the waste sand-shores of Trath Tre

roit,

Where many a heathen fell; "and on the mount
Of Badon I myself beheld the King

Charge at the head of all his Table Round,
And all his legions crying Christ and him,
And break them; and I saw him, after, stand
High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume
Red as the rising sun with heathen blood,
And seeing me, with a great voice he cried,
They are broken, they are broken!' for the
King,

However mild he seems at home, nor cares
For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts-
For if his own knight cast him down, he laughs,
Saying, his knights are better men than he-
Yet in this heathen war the fire of God
Fills him: I never saw his like: there lives
No greater leader."

While he uttered this,

Low to her own heart said the lily maid, "Save your great self, fair lord; " and when he

fell From talk of war to traits of pleasantryBeing mirthful he but in a stately kindShe still took note that when the living smile Died from his lips, across him came a cloud Of melancholy severe, from which again, Whenever in her hovering to-and-fro The lily maid had striven to make him cheer, There brake a sudden-beaming tenderness Of manners and of nature: and she thought That all was nature, all, perchance, for her. And all night long his face before her lived, As when a painter, poring on a face, Divinely through all hinderance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and color of a mind and life,