to death they condemned her. But death waited.
There Lancelot as lightning came
amid riding thunder ruthless flaming
in sudden assault sweeping heedless
he friends of old felled and trampled, 80
as trees by tempest torn uprooted.
Gaheris and Gareth Gawain’s brethren
by the fire fell they as fate willed it.
From the fire he snatched her; far he bore her;
fear fell on men, none would follow after; 85
for Ban’s kindred in their battle closed him.
Then rage left him, and his wrath sickened,
his mood faltered. He mourned too late
in ruth for the rending of the Round Table.
His pride he repented, his prowess cursing 90
that friends had felled, faith had broken.
For the love longing of his lord Arthur
he would heal yet honour with his heart’s anguish,
and the queen restore, by the king’s mercy
her estate restablish. Strange she deemed him 95
by a sudden sickness from his self altered.
From war she shrank not, might her will conquer,
life both and love with delight keeping
to wield as she wished while the world lasted;
but little liked her lonely exile, 100
or for love to lose her life’s splendour.
In sorrow they parted. With searing words
his wound she probed his will searching.
Grief bewrayed her and greed thwarted;
the shining sun was sudden shaded 105
in storm of darkness. Strange he deemed her
from her self altered. By the sea stood he
as a graven stone grey and hopeless.
In pain they parted. Pardon found she
by her king’s mercy, and men’s counsel, 110
lest worse befall, war unholy
among Christian kings, while the crows feasted.
In the courts of Camelot she was queen again
great and glorious. Grace with Arthur
he sought and found not. They his sword refused. 115
On that knee no more, knight in fealty
might he hilt handle, nor his head there lay,
not Lancelot, love forsaking,
pardon asking, with pride humbled.
Loveforsaken, from the land banished, 120
from the Round Table’s royal order
and his siege glorious where he sat aforetime
he went sadly. The salt water
lay grey behind him.
Grief knew Arthur
in his heart’s secret, and his house him seemed 125
in mirth minished, marred in gladness,
his noblest knight in his need losing.
Not alone to his land over loud waters
went Lancelot. Lords of his kindred
were many and mighty. At their masts floated 130
the banners of Blamore and of Bors the strong,
of Lionel, Lavain, and loyal Ector,
Ban’s younger son. They to Benwick sailed
Britain forsaking. In battle no more
to Arthur’s aid their arms bore they, 135
but in the towers of Ban tall and dauntless
watchful dwelt they, war refusing,
Lancelot their lord with love guarding
in his days of darkness. Deep his anguish.
He lord betrayed to love yielding, 140
and love forsaking lord regained not,
by leagues of sea from love sundered.
From western havens word was rumoured
of Arthur arming against his own kingdom,
how a mighty navy manned with vengeance 145
he swift assembled that the sudden fury
of striding storm stayed and hindered.
Of the Lord of Logres, and the leagued treason
that his throne threatened, thought he darkly:
now they need would know of knights faithful 150
to uphold on high the holy crown,
the west still to wield by the waves’ margin,
walls defending against the world’s ruin;
now they most would miss the mighty swords
of Ban’s kindred and their banners gleaming; 155
now Lancelot his lord’s battle
should fill with fire as a flame shining.
Then half he hoped, and half wished not,
to receive summons, swift commandment,
to king the allegiance loyal recalling 160
of Lancelot to his lord Arthur.
Of Guinever again grieving thought he:
there was woe in Britain, war was kindled;
were her faith renewed firm and steadfast,
then she stood in danger. Dear he loved her. 165
Though in wrath she left him, no ruth showing,
no pity feeling, proud and scornful,
dear he loved her. When danger threatened,
if she sent him summons, swift and gladly
against tide and tempest trumpet sounding, 170
he would sail overseas, sword unsheathing
in land forlorn at the last battle
by his lady bidden, though his lord shunned him.
But there came neither from king summons
nor word from lady. Only wind journeyed 175
over wide waters wild and heedless.
Now Gawain’s glory, golden riding
as the westering sun that the world kindles
ere he red sinketh by the rim of ocean,
before Arthur blazed, while the East darkened. 180
Guinever hiding in the grey shadow
watched and waited, while the world faltered;
grimhearted grown as gladness waned
danger weighed she in her dark counsel,
her hope in havoc, in her heart thinking 185
men’s fate to mould to her mind’s purpose.
And Lancelot over leagues of sea
looked and pondered alone musing
doubtful-hearted. Dark had fallen.
No horn he blew, no host gathered; 190
he wavered and went not. Wind was roaring
the towers trembled tempest-shaken.
Dawn came dimly. On the dun beaches
the foam glimmered faint and ghostly;
the tide was turning, tempest waning. 195
Light leapt upward from the long shadow,
and walking on the water waves kindled,
as glass glittering green and silver.
In sombre sleep by the sill drooping
lay Lancelot alone dreaming; 200
his head was bowed by the high window.
His eyes opened upon early day:
the wind still walked in the wide heaven
lofty faring, but on lowly earth
peace had fallen. Pools reflected 205
the slanting sun silver gleaming;
washed with water the world shimmered;
bird sang to bird blithe at morning.
His heart arose, as were heavy burden
lightly lifted. Alone standing 210
with the flame of morn in his face burning
the surge he felt of song forgotten
in his heart moving as a harp-music.
There Lancelot, low and softly
to himself singing, the sun greeted, 215
life from darkness lifted shining
in the dome of heaven by death exalted.
Ever times would change and tides alter,
and o’er hills of morning hope come striding
to awake the weary, while the world lasted. 220
The hour he knew not, that never after
it would return in time, tempest bringing,
to war calling with the wind’s trumpet.
The tides of chance had turned backward,
their flood was passed flowing swiftly.
225
Death was before him, and his day setting
beyond the tides of time to return never
among waking men, while the world lasted.
*
IV
____________
How Arthur returned at morn and by Sir Gawain’s hand won the passage of the sea.
Wolves were howling on the wood’s border;
the windy trees wailed and trembled,
and wandering leaves wild and homeless
drifted dying in the deep hollows.
Dark lay the road through dank valleys 5
among mounting hills mist-encircled
to the walls of Wales in the west frowning
brownfaced and bare. To the black mountains
horsemen hastened, on the houseless stones
no track leaving. Tumbling waters 10
from the fells falling, foaming in darkness,
they heard as they passed to the hidden kingdom.
Night fell behind. The noise of hooves
was lost in silence in a land of shadow.
*
Dawn came dimly. On the dark faces 15
of the old mountains eastward staring
light was kindled. The land shimmered.
Sun came shining. Silver morning
bathed in water bright ascended
the bare heaven blue and lofty. 20
Beams fell slanting through the boughs of trees
glancing and glimmering in the grey forest;
rain drops running from rustling leaves
like drops of glass dripped and glistened.
No beast was stirring: the birds listened. 25
As wary as wolves through the wood stalking
to the marches rode there Mordred’s hunters,
huge and hungry hounds beside them
the fewte followed fiercely baying.
The queen they hunted with cold hatred 30
till their hope failed them amid houseless stones,
halting hungry-eyed under the hills’ menace
at the walls of Wales. War was behind them
and woe in Britain. Winds were shifting,
Mordred waiting.
Their message found him 35
by the seaward cliffs in the south-country
sheer and shining. Upon shaven grass
his tents were marshalled, as a town clustered
with lanes and alleys loud with voices
in the dales hidden and on downs rising 40
above Romeril where running water
to the shore had cloven a shallow pathway.
From the East, from Angel and the isles of mist,
there kings of Almain their craft mustered,
under cliff crowding their carven prows 45
and black banners in the breeze flying.
Fair wind came foaming over flecked water,
on gleaming shingle green and silver
the waves were washing on walls of chalk.
On a mound of grass Mordred stood there: 50
ever gazed his eyes out and southward,
lest Arthur’s ships unawares to shore
the winds should waft. Watchmen he posted
by the sea’s margin in the south-country,
by night and day the narrow waters 55
from the hills to heed. There on high raised he
builded beacons that should blaze with fire,
if Arthur came, to his aid calling
his men to muster where he most needed.
Thus he watched and waited and the wind studied. 60
Ivor hailed him with eager voice
by his tent standing tall and brooding;
words unwelcome from the West brought he.
‘O King!’ he cried, ‘the Queen is lost!
Her trail faded in the trackless stones; 65
hound and hunter in the hills faltered.
To the hidden kingdom and the holy vales
where Leodegrance once long ago
lived beleaguered, lord enchanted,
she hath fled and is free. But few love her. 70
Fear her no longer, the fay-woman!
Fell fate take her! May her feet never
return hither to trouble Mordred!
From thy mind thrust her! With men deal thou,
woman forsaking and to war turning! 75
Thine hour is at hand.’ Then his eyes wavered
and his tongue halted. Turning slowly
with frown of thunder fiercely Mordred
gazed on him glaring. ‘Begone!’ cried he.
‘The master’s hour master chooseth. 80
Nought thou knowest. At need failing
from vain errand dost venture home
with tongue untamed to teach Mordred
thy fool’s counsel? Flee mine anger
unto foul fortune. The fiend take thee!’ 85
Alone then long lowering paced he.
In his bosom there burned under black shadow
a smouldering fire whose smoke choked him;
his mind wavered in a maze walking
between fear and fury. At first his thought 90
hunger-hunted from his hold wandered
by lust allured to its long torment.
But he guessed that Guinever had greeting sent
by secret servant over sea speeding
to Lancelot, love recalling 95
and his aid asking in her evil day.
Should Ban’s kindred to battle hasten
and the fair lily on the field sable
once more be seen marching proudly
Arthur to strengthen, ill were boded 100
to his plot and purpose. Thus he pondered long.
For Lancelot, lord of Benwick,
most he hated and yet most dreaded,
and words of witchcraft well remembered
that lords of Benwick the lily bearing 105
in open battle should he ever challenge
he would reap ruin. Thus wrath with cunning,
doubt with daring in his dark counsel
warred uncertain. The wind lessened.
In cloudless sky clear and golden 110
the sun at evening summer rekindled
in a glow sinking. The sea glimmered
under streaming stars in the steep heaven.
Day followed day. Dawn came brightly
with a breeze blowing blithe at morning 115
cool and keenwingéd. A cry woke him.
‘A sail, a sail on the sea shining!’
Watchmen were calling, wailing voices
from ward to ward the wind carried,
and grasping brands guards by the beacons 120
wakeful waited. No word gave he.
Eager went his eyes out and southward,
and sails saw he on the sea climbing.
Thus came Arthur at early morn
at last returning to his lost kingdom. 125
On his shrouds there shone sheen with silver
a white lady in holy arms
a babe bearing born of maiden.
Sun shone through them. The sea sparkled.
Men marked it well, Mordred knew it, 130
Arthur’s ensign. Yet his eyes wandered;
for the banner of Benwick breathless looked he,
silver upon sable. But he saw it not.
The fair flower-de-luce on its field withered
drooping in darkness. Doom came nearer. 135
The sun mounted and the sails whitened.
Far over the sea faintly sounding
trumpets heard they. Towering upward
from Arthur’s side eager hastened
a mighty ship in the morn gleaming 140
high, white-timbered, with hull gilded;
on its sail was sewn a sun rising,
on its broidered banner in the breeze floated
a fiery griffon golden flaming.
Thus came Gawain his king guarding 145
valiant-hearted the vaward leading:
a hundred ships with hulls shining
and shrouds swelling and shields swinging.
Behind beheld they the host faring:
deepweighed dromonds and drawn barges, 150
galleys and galleons with gear of war,
six hundred sail in the sun turning,
fair sight and fell. Flags were streaming;
ten thousand told targes hung there
bright on the bulwarks, blazons of princes 155
and knights of the North and the nine kingdoms
of Britain the blessed. But Ban’s kindred,
and Lancelot with his lilies came not.
Then Mordred laughed loud and mirthless.
Word he shouted. Wild were the trumpets. 160
Beacons were blazing, banners were lifted,
shaft rang on shield, and the shores echoed.
War was awakened and woe in Britain.
Thus came Arthur to his own kingdom
in power and majesty proud returning 165
to Romeril where running slowly
by the shore now weeps a shuddering water.
Sun shone on swords. Silver-pointed
the spears sparkled as they sprang upward,
white as wheatfield. Wheeling above them 170
the crows were crying with cold voices.
In the foaming sea flashed a thousand
swift oars sweeping. Saxon chieftains
at their stems standing sternly shouted;
blades they brandished and broad axes, 175
on their gods calling with grim voices.
With dread faces dragon-prowed they spurred
their sea-horses to sudden onset,
swerving swifly and swinging inward.
Beak met bulwark. Burst were timbers. 180
There was clang of iron and crash of axes;
sparked and splintered spears and helmets;
the smiths of battle on smitten anvils
there dinned and hammered deadly forging
wrath and ruin. Red their hands were. 185
About Prydwen pressed they, the proud and fair,
the ship of Arthur with sheen of silver.
Then Gawain sounded his glad trumpet.
His great galleon golden shining
as thunder riding thrust among them 190
with wind behind her. In her wake followed
lieges of Lothian, lords and captains.
Oars were splintered. Iron clave timber,
and ropes were riven. With rending crash
masts dismantled as mountain-trees 195
rushed down rattling in the roar of battle.
Now grim Galuth Gawain brandished
his sword renowned – smiths enchanted
ere Rome was built with runes marked it