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PARZIVAL

VOL. II

                               PARZIVAL

                            A KNIGHTLY EPIC

                                  BY

                        WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH

                             TRANSLATED BY

                           JESSIE L. WESTON

                                VOL. II

             ANASTATIC REPRINT OF THE EDITION LONDON 1894.

                               NEW YORK

                         G. E. STECHERT & CO.,

                                 1912.

CONTENTS

                                                                    PAGE

     X.  ORGELUSE                                                      1

    XI.  ARNIVE                                                       29

   XII.  EIDEGAST                                                     47

  XIII.  KLINGSOR                                                     71

   XIV.  GRAMOFLANZ                                                  101

    XV.  FEIREFIS                                                    133

   XVI.  LOHENGRIN                                                   163

         APPENDICES                                                  189

         NOTES                                                       201

BOOK X

ORGELUSE

ARGUMENT

Book X. relates how Gawain, after various adventures, fell in with a
maiden and a wounded knight, how he succoured the knight and rode to
Logrois. How he met with Orgelusé and wooed her, and how she repaid
him with scorn. How the squire Malcréature mocked Sir Gawain, and how
the knight Urian stole his charger. How Lischois Giwellius fought with
Gawain and was conquered, and of the tribute due to the Master Boatman.
How Gawain came to Terre de Merveil, and was well entreated by the
Boatman and his daughter Bené.

                                 BOOK X

                                ORGELUSE

    Now tell we of strange adventures thro' which joy shall be
        waxen low,
    And yet pride shall grow the greater, of the twain doth this
        story show.

    Now the year of truce was ended, when the strife must needs
        be fought
    Which the Landgrave unto King Arthur at Plimizöl had brought.
    At Schamfanzon he challenged Gawain to meet him at Barbigöl,       5
    Yet still unavenged was Kingrisein at the hand of
        Kingrimursel--
    In sooth, Vergulacht, he rode there, and thither had come
        Gawain,
    And the whole world was 'ware of their kinship nor might
        strife be betwixt the twain;
    For the murder, Count Eckunât did it, and Gawain must they
        guiltless hold,
    At rest did they lay their quarrel and friends were those
        heroes bold.                                                  10

    Then they parted for both would ride thence, Vergulacht and
        the knight Gawain,
    Tho' both for the Grail were seeking yet apart would they
        ride, those twain.
    And many a joust must they ride now, for he who the Grail
        would see
    Sword in hand must he draw anigh it, and swift must his
        seeking be!

    Now all that befell to Gawain, the lot of that blameless
        knight                                                        15
    Since he rode forth from fair Schamfanzon, if he oft on his
        way must fight,
    Ye shall ask of those who there saw him, since naught may I
        tell ye here,
    Yet hearken, and heed the story and the venture that draweth
        near.
    One morning Gawain rode gaily o'er a grassy plain and green,
    When a shield, in the sun fair shining, with lance-thrust
        pierced thro' was seen,                                       20
    And a charger stood beside it that bare women's riding-gear,
    And the bridle and aye the housing were of costly stuff and
        dear--
    And the charger and shield beside it were bound to a linden
        tree.
    Then he thought, 'Who shall be this woman? for valiant I ween
        is she,
    Since she beareth a shield so knightly--If she thinketh with
        me to fight,                                                  25
    How, then, may I best withstand her? Were it better to here
        alight?
    If too long she wrestle with me perchance I were overthrown,
    If hatred or love I shall win here I will fight her on foot
        alone;
    Yea, e'en an she were Kamilla, who before Laurentium fought--
    Did she live still to battle with me, as awhile she for
        honour sought,                                                30
    I would face her, nor fear her prowess, if here she my foe
        would be,
    Tho' ne'er with a maid have I foughten and the chance seemeth
        ill to me!'

    Battle-hewn was the shield and dinted, as Gawain right well
        espied
    The nearer he rode unto it, and pierced with a lance-thrust
        wide.
    Such token by joust is painted, little payment his skill
        should know                                                   35
    Whose hand erst the shield had fashioned an he thought him to
        paint it so!
    By the trunk of the mighty linden sat a maid on the grass so
        green,
    And sore did she weep and bewail her, and joyless, I wot, her
        mien.
    Then around the tree rode Gawain, and lo! on her knee she
        bore
    A knight, and she wept above him, and grieved with a sorrow
        sore.                                                         40

    Fair greeting Sir Gawain proffered, she thanked him and bowed
        her low,
    And hoarse was her voice thro' weeping and weakened thro'
        force of woe.
    Then down to the ground sprang Gawain, for the knight he was
        like to choke,
    Since the blood welled within his body, and unto the maid he
        spoke,
    And he asked if the knight were living, or should now in the
        death-throe be?                                               45
    And she spake, 'He dieth surely, yet but now alive was he,
    God hath sent thee unto my succour, now help me with word and
        deed,
    Such wounds shalt thou oft have looked on, give counsel in
        this my need!'

    'Yea, gladly I'll aid thee, Lady, from death shall thy knight
        be freed,
    And healing I well might win him an there were but at hand a
        reed.                                                         50
    Thou shalt see him, and hearken to him, nor his life shall be
        waxen less,
    The wound is not all too dangerous, but the blood on his
        heart doth press.'
    Then he stripped from a bough of the linden the bark, and did
        wind it round,
    (No fool he in art of healing,) and he set it unto the wound,
    And he bade the maiden suck it till the blood should toward
        her flow--                                                    55
    And strength came again and hearing, and the voice of the
        knight they know,
    And he looked on Gawain, and he thanked him, and said he
        should honoured be
    In that from his woe he had freed him, and he asked of him,
        whence came he?
    Rode he hither in search of knighthood? 'From far Punturtois
        I came
    In search of such knightly venture as should win for me meed
        of fame,                                                      60
    Yet sorely must I bewail me for the ill that I here have won,
    Sir Knight, an thy senses fail not, 'twere better this way to
        shun!'

    'Such evil I little looked for--'Twas Lischois Giwellius
    Who hath wounded me so sorely, and down from my charger
        thrust:
    Fair was the joust and knightly, and he pierced me thro'
        shield and side,                                              65
    On her steed this maiden helped me, and hither hath been my
        guide!'
    Then he prayed Gawain to abide there, but he spake, he the
        place would see
    Where such evil had chanced unto him, 'If Logrois thus near
        shall be,
    Perchance I shall yet o'ertake him, he shall answer to me, I
        trow,
    For the deed he hath done, and his reason for vengeance on
        thee I'll know!'                                              70
    But the wounded knight spake, 'Not so, for true are the words
        I say,
    And no child's play shall be this journey, great perils beset
        the way.'

    With the band from the maiden's tresses Gawain the wound did
        bind,
    And spake o'er it spells of healing, and he bade them their
        comfort find
    In God, since He cares for all men--With blood was their
        pathway red,                                                  75
    And crimson the grass besprinkled as a stag had its
        life-blood shed;
    Thus he rode not astray, and in short space did Logrois
        before him stand--
    A fortress so fair and stately, its praise was in every land.

    'Twas a stately Burg well builded, and it wound the hillside
        round,
    From afar as a mighty circlet the fortress the summit
        crowned.                                                      80
    E'en to-day men this honour give it, its wall shall be
        stormed in vain,
    For it openeth its gates to no foeman, whose hatred soe'er it
        gain!
    And a garden lay green around it, 'twas planted with trees so
        fair,
    Olive, pomegranate, fig-tree, and the vine which its grapes
        doth bear,
    And gaily they grew and flourished--as Gawain rode that
        garden bright                                                 85
    He saw there what wrought him sorrow, yet filled him with all
        delight!

    A streamlet gushed forth from the hillside, there he saw that
        which grieved him naught,
    A lady so fair to look on that gladly her face he sought.
    The flower was she of all women, save Kondwiramur alone
    No fairer form nor feature might ever on earth be known.          90
    So sweet and so bright to look on, so courteous and royal of
        mien,
    Orgelusé, was she, of Logrois, and men say that in her was
        seen
    The charm that desire awakeneth, a balm for the eyes of care,
    For no heart but was drawn toward her, and no mouth but would
        speak her fair!

    Gawain gave her courteous greeting, and he spake, 'If such
        grace I gain                                                  95
    That thou willest I should alight here and awhile at thy side
        remain,
    If I see that my presence please thee, then sorrow be far
        from me,
    And joy in its stead dwell with me, no knight e'er might
        gladder be!
    May I die if the truth I speak not, no woman e'er pleased me
        more--'
    'It is well, yet methinks I knew that,' then the knight for a
        space she saw;                                               100

    And her sweet lips spake thus unto him, 'Now make of thy
        praise an end,
    For well might it work thee evil, and I care not that foe or
        friend,
    Whoever he be that cometh, his judgment on me shall speak,
    For sure if all lips shall praise me my fame it but waxeth
        weak!
    If the wise praise me e'en as the foolish, the false as the
        pure and true,                                               105
    Then my fame shall be e'en as another's, for the many shall
        drown the few.
    But my praise do I hold, and but wisdom shall speak that
        which she doth know--
    Who thou mayst be, Sir Knight, I know not, but 'tis time thou
        thy way shouldst go!'

    'Yet o'er thee will I speak my verdict, if thou dwellest
        anear my heart
    Then thy dwelling is not _within_ it, for _without_ shalt
        thou have thy part.                                          110
    And say thou my love desirest, how hast thou rewarding won?
    From the eyes swiftly shoot the glances, yet a sling, when
        the work is done,
    Smiteth gentler than looks which linger on that which doth
        sorrow wreak,
    Thy desire is but empty folly, thou shouldst other service
        seek!
    If thine hand for love's sake shall battle, if adventure hath
        bidden thee                                                  115
    By knighthood win love's rewarding, yet thou winnest it not
        from _me_.
    Nor honour shall be thy portion, but shame shalt thou win
        alone--
    Now the truth have I spoken unto thee, 'twere best thou
        shouldst get thee gone!'

    Then he quoth, 'Truth thou speakest, Lady, since mine eyes
        thus mine heart have brought
    In danger, for _they_ beheld thee, and thy fetters around me
        wrought.                                                     120
    But now, since I be thy captive, I prithee entreat me well,
    Without thine own will hast thou done this, in silence I
        owned thy spell:
    Thou shalt loose me, or thou shalt bind me, for my will it
        shall be as thine,
    And gladly all woes I'ld suffer if so I might call thee
        mine!'

    Then she quoth, 'Yea! so take me with thee, if thou countest
        upon thy gain,                                               125
    And the love that shall be thy guerdon, thou shalt mourn it
        in shame and pain.

    I would know if a man thou shalt be who bravely for me would
        fight--
    And yet, if thou prize thine honour, thou wilt flee from this
        strife, Sir Knight!
    And should I yet further rede thee, and thou shouldst to my
        word say yea,
    Then seek thou elsewhere a lady--For, if thou my love dost
        pray,                                                        130
    Then joy and fair love's rewarding fall never unto thy share,
    But sorrow shall be thy portion if hence I with thee shall
        fare!'

    Then answered Gawain, 'Without service, who thinketh true
        love to win?
    An one did so, then here I tell thee, 'twere counted to him
        for sin,
    For true love ever asketh service, yea after as aye before!'     135
    Then she quoth, 'Wilt thou do me service? shame waiteth for
        thee in store,
    Tho' thy life be a life of conflict--No coward as my knight
        I'll own;
    See thou yonder path, 'tis no highway, o'er the bridge doth
        it wend adown
    To the garden, take thou the pathway, for there shalt thou
        find my steed--
    Many folk shalt thou see and shalt hearken, but take thou of
        their words no heed,                                         140
    Nor stay for their dance or singing, for tambour, or harp, or
        flute,
    But go thou to my horse, and loose it, that I go not with
        thee afoot!'
    Gawain sprang from off his charger--Yet awhile he bethought
        him well
    Where his steed might abide his coming: by the waters that
        rippling fell
    Was no tree unto which to bind it, and he knew not if he this
        dame                                                         145
    Might pray, would she hold his charger till once more with
        her own he came.
    Then she quoth, 'I see well what doth vex thee, thine horse
        shalt thou leave with me,
    I will guard it until thy coming tho' small good shall that
        be to thee!'

    Then Gawain took his horse's bridle, 'Now hold this for me, I
        pray;'
    'Now indeed art thou dull and foolish,' spake the lady,
        'where _thou_ dost lay                                       150
    Thine hand, thinkest thou _I'll_ hold it? such deed would
        beseem me ill!'
    Then the love-lorn knight spake gently, for fain would he do
        her will,
    'Further forward I never hold it!' Then she quoth, '_I_ will
        hold it there,
    And do thou my bidding swiftly, bring my steed and with thee
        I'll fare;'
    Then he thought this a joyful hearing, and straightway he
        left her side,                                               155
    And over the bridge so narrow to the garden gate he hied;
    There saw he many a maiden, and knights so brave and young,
    And within that goodly garden so gaily they danced and sung.

    And Gawain he was clad so richly, with helmet and harness
        fair,
    That all must bewail his coming for naught but true folk
        dwelt there.                                                 160
    They cared for that lovely garden, on the greensward they
        stood or lay,
    Or sat 'neath the tents whose shadow was cool 'gainst the
        sunlight's ray.
    Yet they ceased not to bemoan him, and to grieve for his
        sorrow sore,
    Yea, man alike and maiden, and in this wise their plaint they
        bore,
    'Alas! that our lady's cunning will to danger this knight
        betray!                                                      165
    Alas! that he fain will follow, for she rideth an evil way.'

    And many stepped fair towards him, and their arms around him
        threw,
    And bade him a friendly greeting--to an olive tree he drew,
    For the steed was fast beneath it, so rich was its gear, I
        ween,
    That the cost of the goodly trappings full thousand marks had
        been.                                                        170
    And an old knight he stood beside it, well-trimmed was his
        beard and grey,
    And upon a staff he leant him, and salt tears he wept alway.
    And the tears, they were shed for Gawain, as he to the steed
        drew near,
    Yet his words of kindly greeting fell soft on the hero's ear.
    Then he spake, 'Wilt thou hearken counsel? Lay not on this
        steed thine hand,                                            175
    And herein shalt thou show thy wisdom--tho' none here thy
        will withstand,
    Yet, indeed, it were best to leave it! Accurst be our lady
        queen,
    For of many a gallant hero, I wot, she the death hath been!'
    Yet Gawain he would do her bidding--'Then, alas! for woe
        draweth near,'
    Spake the knight, and he loosed the halter, ''Twere best not
        to linger here,                                              180
    The steed shalt thou take, and shalt leave us, and may He Who
        made salt the sea,
    In the hour of thy need, and thy peril, thy strength and thy
        counsel be:
    And see thou that our lady's beauty, it bringeth thee not to
        shame,
    She is sour in the midst of sweetness, 'mid the sunlight a
        shower of rain.'

    'God grant it,' then quoth Sir Gawain, and straightway he
        took his leave                                               185
    Of the old knight and of his comrades and sorely the folk did
        grieve.
    And the horse went a narrow pathway, and it passed thro' the
        garden gate,
    And it crossed o'er the bridge, and he found her who there
        did his coming wait,
    The queen of his heart, and the ruler was she of that land so
        fair,
    Yet altho' his heart fled towards her yet grief thro' her
        deed it bare.                                                190

    Her hand 'neath her chin soft-rounded had loosened the
        wimple's fold,
    And flung it aback on her head-gear,--(if a woman ye thus
        behold,
    Know ye that for strife she longeth and mischief she hath in
        mind)--
    Would ye know how else she had robed her ye naught in my song
        shall find,
    For how might I tell her raiment and name ye her robes
        aright,                                                      195
    When mine eyes, on her fair face gazing, saw naught but her
        beauty bright?

    As Gawain drew near the lady, she hailed him with scornful
        mien,
    'Now welcome, thou goose! for of all men most foolish art
        thou, I ween,
    All too bent shalt thou be on my service, wert thou wise thou
        wouldst let it be--'
    Then he quoth, 'Yet shalt thou be gracious who now art so
        wroth with me,                                               200
    For so harshly thou dost chastise me thou in honour must make
        it good,
    And my hand shall be fain to serve thee till thou winnest a
        milder mood;
    Ask thou what of me thou willest--Shall I lift thee upon thy
        steed?'
    But she quoth, 'I will no such service, for methinks all too
        great such meed
    For a hand that is yet unproven--Ask thou for a lesser
        grace!'                                                      205
    On the flowery sward she turned her, and she looked not on
        Gawain's face,
    But she laid her hand on the bridle, and she light to the
        saddle sprung,
    And she bade him to ride before her, and she spake with a
        mocking tongue,
    'Now indeed would it be great pity did I stray from so brave
        a knight,
    By God's grace will we keep together, so ride thou within my
        sight!'                                                      210

    Now he who my rede would follow his peace shall he hold
        awhile,
    Lest he speak but the word of folly, till he know if she
        wrought of guile,
    For as yet the truth ye know not, nor the thing that was in
        her heart.
    And were it the time for vengeance, then I too might bear my
        part,
    And take from this lady payment for the wrong she hath done
        Gawain;                                                      215
    Nor of that she shall do hereafter shall aught unavenged
        remain.

    But Orgelusé, that lovely lady, bare herself in no friendly
        wise,
    For she rode in the track of Gawain, and so wrathful, I ween,
        her guise
    That were I in the stead of Gawain little comfort my soul
        might take
    That she from my care would free me, and with fair love
        atonement make.                                              220
    Then they rode on an open moorland, and a herb did Sir Gawain
        see
    Whose root had the power of healing, and down to the ground
        sprang he,
    And dug up the root, and swiftly he sprang on his steed
        again.
    And the lady she looked upon him, and she spake in a mocking
        vein,
    'Now in sooth if this my companion can at one-while be leech
        and knight,                                                  225
    For starvation he need not fear him if his salve-box he bear
        aright!'
    Quoth Gawain, ''Neath a mighty linden a wounded knight I saw,
    Methinks, if again I find him, this herb shall the poison
        draw
    From his wounds, and new strength may give him!' She spake,
        'Now I well were fain
    To look on thy skill, for who knoweth what knowledge I thence
        may gain!'                                                   230

    Now a squire he rode swift behind them, 'twas the lady's
        messenger,
    Fain was he to do her bidding--As the horse-hoofs they drew
        anear
    Gawain would await his coming, and his steed for a space he
        held,
    Yet he deemed him he saw a monster when first he the squire
        beheld,
    For Malcréature did they call him, and Kondrie was his sister
        fair,                                                        235
    And e'en such a face as the sister, I ween, did the brother
        bear.
    From his mouth, as the tusks of a wild-boar, stood the teeth
        out to left and right,
    Unlike was his face to a man's face, and fearful in all men's
        sight.
    And the locks of his hair were shorter than those which from
        Kondrie hung
    Adown on her mule, stiff as bristles, and sharp, from his
        head they sprung.                                            240
    And beside the river Ganges, in the land of Tribalibot,
    Dwell such folk, if awhile ye hearken ye shall learn how
        befell their lot.

    Now Adam, of all men father, from God did he learn such
        skill,
    All beasts, wild and tame, he knew them, and he namèd them at
        his will.
    And he knew the stars and their pathway, as they circle the
        silent sky,                                                  245
    And the power of the seven planets, how they rule men from
        heaven high,
    And he knew of all roots the virtue, and the ill that was
        theirs of yore--
    When his children were grown to manhood, and daughters and
        sons they bore,
    From evil desires he warned them; and his daughters he oft
        did rede
    Of certain roots to beware them, that wrought ill with the
        human seed,                                                  250
    And would change their face, and their aspect, and
        dishonoured the race should be;
    And he spake, 'Then shall we be other than erst God did
        fashion me,
    And therefore do ye, my children, give heed to the words I
        say,
    Nor be blind to your bliss, lest _your_ children they wander
        too far astray.'

    But the women, they did as women, in forbidden ways they
        went,                                                        255
    And they wrought out the lust and the evil on which their
        desire was bent,
    And the shape of men was changèd, such rewarding their fault
        must win,
    And tho' firm stood the will of Adam yet sorely he mourned
        their sin--
    Now the fair Queen Sekundillé, her body, her crown, and land,
    Feirefis had won as his guerdon by the power of his knightly
        hand,                                                        260
    And there, in her far-off kingdom (no lie is the tale I tell)
    Full many of this strange people since the days that are gone
        do dwell,
    And their faces are ill to look on, and the birth-marks are
        strange they bear.
    And once of the Grail men told her, and Anfortas' kingdom
        fair,
    That on earth was naught like to his riches, and a marvel she
        thought his land--                                           265
    (And the waters within her kingdom bare jewels instead of
        sand,
    And many a golden mountain shall rear its crest on high.)
    And the queen she thought, 'How may I win speech of his
        majesty,
    Who ruleth the Grail?' she bethought her, and rich presents
        she sent the king,
    Of jewels fair, and beside them, they should to his kingdom
        bring                                                        270
    Of this folk, so strange to look on, the twain of whom now I
        tell,
    Kondrie and the squire, her brother--and in this wise the
        chance befell
    (Much treasure beside she sent him whose cost might of none
        be told,)
    That Anfortas, the gentle monarch, who was courteous as he
        was bold,
    For the love he bare Orgelusé sent this squire unto her
        grace,                                                       275
    By the sin and the lust of women set apart from the human
        race!

    Now this son of the herbs and the planets loud mocked at the
        gallant knight,
    Who, courteous, would wait his coming; no charger he rode of
        might,
    But a mare so feint and feeble and halting in every limb,
    And oft to the ground it stumbled 'neath its rider so harsh
        and grim.                                                    280
    I wot well e'en Dame Jeschuté rode a better steed that day
    When Parzival's hand avenged her, and her shaming was put
        away!

    The squire he looked well upon Gawain, and thus in his wrath
        he spake,
    'If thou be a _knight_, I think me, and my lady with thee
        wilt take
    Thou shalt sorely repent the journey--A fool thou in truth
        must be,                                                     285
    And such peril shall be thy guerdon as winneth great praise
        to thee,
    If so be that thou canst withstand it--Yet, if but a
        _servant_ thou,
    Of buffets and blows, I think me, full soon wilt thou have
        enow!'

    Then out quoth Gawain, 'My knighthood such chastisement ne'er
        might feel,
    'Tis good but for worthless youngsters who shrink from the
        touch of steel;                                              290
    But _I_ hold me free of such insults, and e'en if it so shall
        be
    That thou and this lovely lady your mock'ry shall pour on me,
    Then _one_ sure shall taste my vengeance, nor think thou that
        I wax wroth
    For ill tho' thou be to look on I hold thee but light in
        troth!'
    With that by the hair he gripped him, and he swung him from
        off his horse,                                               295
    The squire glared wrathful on him, and his bristles, so sharp
        and coarse,
    Took vengeance sore on Gawain, his hand did they cut and tear
    Till the blood dripped crimson from it--then loud laughed the
        lady fair,
    'Now in sooth this is good to look on, to see ye twain in
        wrath!'
    So rode the twain, the squire's horse came halting upon their
        path.                                                        300

    So came they unto the linden where the wounded knight they
        found,
    On his side the herb of healing the hand of Gawain bound;
    Quoth the knight, 'Now, how went it with thee since first
        thou didst find me here?
    Thou leadest with thee a lady who plotteth thine ill, I fear!
    'Tis thro' her I so sore am wounded; at the Perilous Ford, I
        ween,                                                        305
    Did she force such a joust upon me as well-nigh my death had
        been!
    So, if thou thy life now lovest, I warn thee to let her be,
    And turn thee aside, nor ride with her, but warning to take
        by me--
    And yet may my wounds be healèd, if rest for awhile I gain,
    And, Sir Knight, thereto canst thou help me!' 'That will I,'
        quoth knight Gawain.                                         310
    Then the wounded knight spake further, 'A spital shall stand
        near by,
    And if I but now might reach it for awhile I in peace might
        lie,
    Thou seest my lady's palfrey, it can carry, methinks, the
        twain
    If she rideth afore, I behind her, so help me its back to
        gain.'

    From the bough of the mighty linden Sir Gawain he loosed the
        steed,                                                       315
    And the bridle he took that the palfrey he might to the lady
        lead--
    'Away from me!' cried the sick man, 'thou treadest on me I
        trow!'
    Then he led it apart, and the lady she followed so soft and
        slow,
    For she knew what her lord did purpose; as the maid to her
        horse he swung,
    Up started the knight, and swiftly on the charger of Gawain
        sprung!                                                      320
    And, methinks, an ill deed he did there--With his lady he
        rode away,
    And I ween that with sin was tainted the prize that he won
        that day!

    Then sore did Gawain bemoan him, but the lady laughed loud
        and clear;
    (And, were it a jest, he thought him such mirth were
        unfitting here,)
    As his charger was taken from him her sweet lips in this wise
        spake,                                                       325
    'First wert thou a _knight_, then, in short space, I thee for
        a _leech_ must take,
    Now art thou become my _footman_! yet thou shouldst in no
        wise despair,
    Such skill sure should bring thee comfort! Wouldst thou
        _still_ in my favours share?'

    'Yea, Lady,' then quoth Sir Gawain, 'an I might thy favor
        hold,
    The whole earth hath nothing fairer were the tale of its
        riches told;                                                 330
    And of crownèd heads, and uncrownèd, of all who may joyful
        win
    The highest meed of glory, did they bid me to share therein,
    Yet still my heart would rede me to count all such gain as
        naught
    If thy love were but weighed against it, such bliss had thy
        favour brought!
    If thy love may not be my guerdon then a swift sad death I'll
        die,                                                         335
    'Tis thine own this thing that thou scornest when thou
        dealest thus mockingly.
    Tho' a free man born thou shalt hold me thy vassal, if such
        thy will,
    Call me knight, or slave, or servant, the _name_ it shall
        please me still!
    Yet, I think me, thou doest not rightly--When my service thou
        thus wilt shame
    Thou drawest down sin upon thee, and thou shamest thine own
        fair fame.                                                   340
    If my service doth bring me honour thou hast naught withal to
        scorn,
    And such words shall but ill beseem thee tho' they lightly by
        me be borne!'

    Then back rode the knight, sore wounded, and he quoth, 'Is it
        thou, Gawain?
    For that which erewhile I owed thee here dost thou full
        payment gain,
    Since thine hand in bitter conflict, me, thy foeman, did
        prisoner make                                                345
    And unto thine uncle Arthur thou didst me thy captive take,
    And four weeks long must I dwell there, and four weeks long I
        fed
    With the dogs--I shall ne'er forget it till the days of my
        life be sped!'

    Then he quoth, 'Is it thou, O Urian? If now thou art wroth
        with me,
    Yet guiltless am I, the king's favour at that time I won for
        thee,                                                        350
    For thy folly so far betrayed thee that men spake thee an
        outcast knight,
    And thy shield it was taken from thee, and forfeit thy name
        and right;
    Since thou ill didst entreat a maiden, and the peace of the
        land didst break,
    With a rope had the king repaid thee, but to him for thy life
        I spake!'

    'Howe'er that might be, here thou standest, and the proverb
        thou well mayst know,                                        355
    "Who saveth the life of another, that other shall have for
        foe."
    And I do as a wise man doeth--'Tis better a child should weep
    Than a full-grown man, and bearded,--this charger mine hand
        shall keep!'
    Then he spurred him amain, and he rode thence, as fast as his
        steed might fly,
    And wroth was Gawain at his dealing, and he spake out right
        angrily;                                                     360

    'Now it fell out in this wise, Lady, King Arthur his court
        did hold
    At Dianasdron, and with him rode many a Breton bold.
    Then as messenger to his kingdom a maiden must take her way,
    And this fool, for venture seeking, he crossed her path that
        day,
    And both to the land were strangers--He burnt with unholy
        fire,                                                        365
    And fierce with the maid he wrestled till he bent her to his
        desire.
    As she cried for help we heard her--then the king "To arms"
        did call,
    In a wood the thing had chanced thus, thither rode we one and
        all,
    And I rode of all the foremost, and I saw the sinner's track,
    And I made him perforce my captive, and to Arthur I brought
        him back.'                                                   370

    'And the maiden she rode beside us, and sorely did she bemoan
    That to _force_ she must yield the guerdon that to _service_
        was due alone.
    Of her maidenhood had he robbed her--Yet but lowly his fame
        shall stand
    Who vaunteth himself the victor o'er a woman's unarmèd hand--
    And wrathful, I ween, was King Arthur, and he spake, 'Ye my
        servants true,                                               375
    Ye shall hold this deed for accursèd, and the day of its
        doing rue.
    Alas! for the woful dawning and the light that this thing
        hath seen,
    Alas! that I here am ruler, for the judgment is mine, I
        ween!'
    And he spake to the weeping maiden, 'Hast thou wisdom, thy
        cause then plead.'
    She spake fearless, e'en as he bade her, and the knights they
        must list her rede.                                          380

    'Then Prince Urian of Punturtois stood before the Breton
        king,
    And against his life and his honour, her plaint did the
        maiden bring,
    And she spake so that all might hear her, and with weeping
        words did pray
    The king, for the sake of women, her shaming to put away.
    And she prayed by the honour of women, and by the Round
        Table's fame,                                                385
    And the right which as message-bearer she thought of all men
        to claim,
    If he sat there that day for judgment he should judge her
        with judgment true,
    And avenge her of this dishonour which her soul must for ever
        rue.
    And she prayed they would do her justice, those knights of
        the Table Round,
    Since in sooth she had lost a treasure which might never
        again be found,                                              390
    Her maidenhood fair and unstainèd! Then all men, with one
        accord,
    Spake him guilty, and for his judgment called loudly upon
        their lord!'

    'Then an advocate spake for the captive, (Small honour was
        his I trow.)
    And he spake as he might in his favour, yet it went with him
        ill enow,
    For of life and of honour forfeit did they judge him, the
        headsman's sword                                             395
    Should ne'er be his death, but a halter should they twine him
        of hempen cord.
    Then loud in his woe he prayed me, since he yielded him to
        mine hand,
    For mine honour should sure be stainèd if wrought were the
        king's command.
    Then I prayed of the weeping maiden, since she saw how that I
        in fight
    Had avenged upon him her shaming, to pardon the traitor
        knight.                                                      400
    For sure 'twas the spell of her beauty that had wrought upon
        him for sin,
    And the love of her form so shapely--"For aye if a knight
        doth win
    Sore peril for love of a woman, she should aid him, and hear
        his prayer,
    So I prithee to cease thine anger, and have pity on his
        despair."'

    'Then the king and his men I prayed them, by what service I
        e'er had done,                                               405
    They should loose me from stain of dishonour which I by his
        death had won,
    And the knight should live, as I sware him.--Then the lady,
        his gracious queen,
    I prayed by the bond of kinship, since my friend she hath
        ever been,
    (From my childhood, King Arthur reared me and my love doth
        toward them flow,)
    That she of her kindness help me--as I asked, it was even so,    410
    For she drew on one side the maiden, and she spake to her
        soft and kind,
    And it was thro' the queen, I wot me, that the knight did his
        pardon find.
    Thus free from his guilt they spake him, yet his sin must he
        sorely rue,
    For the life that was granted to him stern penance he needs
        must do.
    With the hounds of the chase and the house-dogs from one
        trough he needs must eat                                     415
    For the space of four weeks, thus the maiden found avenging
        as it was meet!'

    'For this cause is he wroth with me, Lady'--'Yet his judgment
        it went astray,
    If my love ne'er shall be thy guerdon, in such wise I'll his
        deed repay
    That ere he shall leave my kingdom he shall count it to him
        for shame!
    Since King Arthur avenged not the evil that was wrought on
        that maid's fair fame                                        420
    It falleth unto mine office, and judge am I o'er ye twain,
    Tho' who ye may be I know not, yet I to this task am fain!
    And well shall he be chastisèd for the wrong that he did the
        maid,
    Not for _thine_, for I ween such evil is better by blows
        repaid.'

    To the mare now Sir Gawain turned him, and lightly he caught
        the rein,                                                    425
    And the squire he followed after, and the lady she spake
        again,
    And in Arabic spake she to him, and she gave him to know her
        will--
    Now hearken unto my story, how Sir Gawain he fared but ill:
    Then Malcréature, he left them--and Gawain his horse beheld,
    Too feeble it was for battle, the squire, as his way he held     430
    Down the hill, from the peasant-owner had taken the sorry
        steed,
    And Gawain for his charger must have it, tho' but ill it
        might serve his need.

    In mocking and hatred spake she, 'Wilt still ride upon thy
        way?'
    Quoth Gawain, 'I will take my journey e'en in such wise as
        thou shalt say.'
    She quoth, 'Wilt abide my counsel? It shall reach thee I ween
        too late!'                                                   435
    Quoth he, 'Yet for that will I serve thee, tho' o'er-long I
        thy rede shall wait!'
    Quoth she, 'Then a fool I think thee, for unless thou shalt
        leave this mind,
    Then sorrow instead of gladness and repentance for joy
        thou'lt find!'
    Then he quoth, of her love desirous, 'Yet thy servant I still
        abide,
    If joy be my lot or sorrow, be thy love and thy will my
        guide.                                                       440
    Since thy love laid its spell upon me in thy bidding my law I
        see,
    And ahorse or afoot I'll follow, I care not where'er it be!'

    So stood he beside the lady, and awhile he beheld the mare,
    Who to joust with such steed had ridden his gold were
        o'er-keen to spare!
    For the stirrups of hemp were twisted, and ne'er had this
        gallant knight                                               445
    Such saddle, I ween, bestridden, it would serve him but ill
        for fight.
    For e'en as he looked upon it, he thought, 'If on _that_ I
        ride,
    The girths sure will break asunder, nor the saddle my weight
        abide!'
    And so weak was the steed and ill-shapen, had one dared on
        its back to leap
    Of a sooth would the back have broken--On foot he the road
        must keep!                                                   450

    And in this guise he took his journey: the horse by the rein
        he held,
    And his spear and his shield he carried; and the lady his
        grief beheld,
    And she mocked him with ringing laughter, fain was she to
        work him woe--
    Then his shield on the mare he fastened, and she spake, 'In
        such guise wouldst go,
    And carry thy wares thro' my kingdom? A strange lot is mine,
        I ween,                                                      455
    Since _footman_, and _leech_, and _merchant_ in turn hath my
        comrade been!
    Of the toll hadst thou best beware thee, or else, as thou
        goest thy way,
    It may chance they who take the toll here on thy merchandise
        hands may lay!

    And tho' sharp, I ween, was her mocking yet her words was he
        fain to hear,
    Nor rued he the bitter speeches that rang sweet to his
        longing ear.                                                 460
    And as ever his eyes beheld her his sorrow it fled away,
    For fair was she to his thinking as blossoms in month of May!
    A delight of the eyes, and heart-sorrow, his gain and his
        loss was she,
    And languishing joy did she quicken--Her freeman and captive
        he!

    This hath many a master taught me, that Amor, and Cupid too,     465
    And Venus, of both the mother, make all men their deeds to
        rue;
    For with darts and with fire they kindle desire in the
        longing heart,
    But such love seemeth me but evil that is lighted by torch or
        dart.
    And the true heart it loveth ever, be its guerdon or joy or
        woe,
    And in honour the love is rooted which alone shall abiding
        know!                                                        470

    'Gainst me have thy darts, O Cupid! I ween ever missed their
        mark,
    Nor Amor with spear hath smote me, nor fell on my heart a
        spark
    From the torch of thy mother Venus--Tho' love 'neath your
        rule shall be,
    If love be my lot, not from _passion_ but from _faith_ shall
        it bloom for me!

    And if I with wit and wisdom 'gainst love's spells might a
        hero aid,                                                    475
    Gawain had I gladly aided, nor asked that I be repaid.
    And yet no shame need he think it if love's fetters him
        captive hold,
    And if he of love be vanquished, for her captives are aye the
        bold.
    And yet so strong was he ever, and so knightly, to face the
        foe,
    That 'tis pity so brave a hero by a _woman_ should be laid
        low!                                                         480

    Now well let us gaze upon thee, thou power which true love
        doth wield,
    Such joy hast thou taken from us that barren and reft the
        field,
    And thou makest a road of sorrow across it, both long and
        wide,
    And if thy goal had been other than the high heart I would
        not chide.
    For folly methinks and lightness love all too old shall be,      485
    Or shall we to childhood reckon the evil love worketh free?
    For better are ways unseemly in youth, than if age forget
    Its wisdom--much ill love worketh, unto which shall the blame
        be set?
    For the mind of youth ever wavers, and changeth as changing
        winds,
    And if love shall be thus unsteadfast, little praise may she
        hope to find.                                                490
    Nay, better shall be my counsel, for the _wise_ praise true
        love alone;
    Yea, and maiden and man shall join me, and all who love's
        power have known.

    When true love unto true love answereth, undarkened by
        thought of guile,
    And it vexeth them not that love turneth the key on their
        heart awhile,
    For they fear not nor think of wavering, then high as the
        heaven above                                                 495
    O'er the earth, o'er the love that changeth, is such true and
        steadfast love.

    Yet, gladly as I would free him, to Frau Minne Gawain must
        bow,
    And his joy shall awhile be darkened--Small profit my words,
        I trow,
    And the wisdom I fain had taught him, for no man may love
        withstand,
    And love alone giveth wisdom, and nerveth with strength the
        hand!                                                        500

    And to Gawain she gave this penance, afoot must he wend his
        way
    While his lady she rode beside him--To a woodland they came
        alway,
    And he led the steed to a tree-trunk, and the shield that
        awhile it bare
    He hung round his neck as befitting, and lightly bestrode the
        mare,
    And scarcely the steed might bear him--Then they came to a
        builded land,                                                505
    And a castle so fair and stately he saw there before him
        stand,
    And his heart and his eyes bare witness no fortress was like
        this hall,
    So knightly and fair the palace, and so countless its turrets
        tall.
    And many a maiden looked forth from its casements, he thought
        to see
    Four hundred and more, o'er all others, I ween, _four_ might
        fairest be.                                                  510

    Then the lady and her companion they rode a well-trodden road
    To a water whose waves ran swiftly, and ships sailed the
        flood so broad.
    By the landing there lay a meadow, where men jousts were wont
        to ride,
    And the towers of that stately castle rose fair on the
        further side.
    Then Gawain, that gallant hero, saw a knight who rode swift
        and near,                                                    515
    As one who for combat lusted, and he spared not or shield or
        spear.

    Quoth the lady, fair Orgelusé, and haughty her tone and
        proud,
    'In what else thou mayst gainsay me in this be my truth
        allowed,
    For other I ne'er have told thee save that shame shall thy
        portion be,
    Now here, if thou canst, defend thee, since no better is left
        to thee.                                                     520
    Methinks he who cometh hither shall fell thee beneath his
        thrust--
    If thy garments perchance be riven, and thou bitest, ashamed,
        the dust,
    Then those women above shall mourn thee, who look for some
        deed of fame,
    Seest thou how they gaze from the lattice? How, then, if they
        see thy shame?'
    Then the boatman across the water he came at the lady's will,    525
    From the shore to the boat she stepped there, and Gawain it
        but pleased him ill;
    For, mocking, fair Orgelusé spake thus to the gallant knight,
    'Thou com'st not with me, I leave thee on this shore as a
        pledge for fight!'
    Then sadly his voice rang after, 'Say, Lady, wilt leave me
        so?
    Shall I never again behold thee?' Then she spake, 'I would
        have thee know                                               530
    If victory be thy portion thou shalt look on my face again,
    Yet but small is the chance I think me.' So sailed she from
        knight Gawain.

    Then up rode Lischois Giwellius, 'twere a lie if I said he
        _flew_,
    And yet little other did he for the earth scarce his
        footprints knew.
    And for this must I praise the charger, who the greensward
        with such swift feet                                         535
    Had trodden--Gawain bethought him how he best might his
        foeman meet;
    He thought, 'Should I here await him afoot, or this steed
        bestride?
    If his horse's speed he check not he surely o'er me will
        ride,
    And this fate must o'ertake his charger, to fall o'er my
        fallen steed;
    But, if he for combat lusteth, afoot on this flowery mead        540
    Will I face him and give him battle, since battle he doth
        desire,
    Tho' never I win her favour who hath brought on me need so
        dire.'

    Fight they must, and they fought as heroes, he who came and
        he who did wait,
    For jousting he made him ready, and the lance-point Gawain
        held straight,
    And he rested it on the saddle, (for thus did he counsel
        take,)                                                       545
    Then e'en as the joust was ridden the spears did in splinters
        break,
    And the knights, the one as the other, they fell in that
        goodly fray,
    For the better charger stumbled and by Gawain its rider lay.
    Then the twain to their feet upspringing their swords from
        the scabbard drew,
    Since alike they were keen for combat, and their shields in
        pieces flew,                                                 550
    For each hewed at the shield of the other till a hand's
        breadth alone, I ween,
    They held, for the pledge of conflict the shield it hath ever
        been.

    Flashed the sword-blades, fire sprang from the helmets, a
        venture brave I trow
    Was his who should here be victor, tho' stern conflict he
        first must know.
    Long space did they fight, those heroes, on the flowery
        meadow wide,                                                 555
    And as smiths, who all day have laboured, as it weareth to
        eventide
    Grow faint with their toil and weary with the mighty blows
        they smite,
    So weary and faint were those heroes who here did for honour
        fight.

    But for this none methinks shall praise them, unwise do I
        hold the twain,
    No cause had they here for battle, 'twas fame that they
        thought to gain;                                             560
    And strangers unto each other, each other's life they sought,
    And yet, had they made confession, each owed to the other
        naught!

    Now Gawain was a gallant wrestler, and his foe to the ground
        would bring
    If in spite of the sword he might grip him, and let but the
        mighty ring
    Of his arms his foeman circle, he forced him where'er he
        would.                                                       565
    Now must he with force defend him, and he fought as a hero
        good,
    And his courage waxed ever higher, and the youth in his arms
        he caught,
    And he bare him to earth beneath him tho' e'en as a man he
        fought.
    And he quoth, 'Wilt thou live, thou hero, thou must yield
        thee unto mine hand!'
    Yet Lischois, he was all unready to follow so stern command;     570
    For never his pledge had he given, and he deemed it a
        wondrous thing
    That the hand of a knight should o'erthrow him, and him in
        such peril bring
    That against his will he must yield him, who had ever the
        victor been,
    For in sooth full many a combat his foeman o'erthrown had
        seen.
    Full oft he from them had taken what he cared not to give
        again,                                                       575
    Nay, rather his life would he forfeit; and he spake unto
        knight Gawain,
    And he said, 'Let what would befall him, his pledge to no man
        he'd give;'
    Nay, death would he rather suffer, since no longer he cared
        to live!

    Then sadly, he spake, the vanquished, 'Thou hero, is victory
        thine?
    So long as God bare me favour such honour was ever mine;         580
    But now hath my fame an ending, and thy right hand hath laid
        me low,
    And if maiden and man must hearken to the tale of my
        overthrow
    Whose glory once rose to the heaven, then death shall my
        portion be
    Ere my kinsmen shall hear the story, and shall sorrow and
        mourn for me!
    Yet Gawain still prayed him yield him, but his will and his
        mind were so                                                 585
    That he prayed God would rather take him, or slay him by this
        his foe.
    Thought Gawain, 'I am loth to kill him, if he swear but to do
        my will
    Unharmed he may go'--yet the young knight withheld him his
        promise still.

    Then, ere he his hand had given, the hero he bade him rise,
    On the flowery mead they sat them: then Gawain he bethought
        him wise,                                                    590
    (For his sorry steed it vexed him) the horse of his
        vanquished foe
    With spur and with rein would he test there, if 'twere good
        for his need or no.
    ('Twas armed as beseemed a warhorse, and the covering was
        fair to see,
    Of velvet and silk was it fashioned, what trapping might
        better be?)
    Since the venture such prize had brought him, who should
        hinder him in his need                                       595
    If for his own use he took it? so he vaulted upon the steed:

    And he joyed in the free, swift movement, and he cried, 'Now,
        how shall this be?
    Of a sooth it is thou, Gringuljet, that false Urian stole
        from me.
    _He_ knoweth best how he took it, and shameful I count his
        deed.
    Now, who thus for battle armed thee, since thou art of a
        truth my steed?                                              600
    Sure 'tis God who hath sent thee to me, and this fair gift
        shall end my woe.'
    Then he sprang to the ground, and he sought him the token he
        well might know,
    On its shoulder the Grail-Dove branded--In a joust did
        Lähelein slay
    Its rider, the knight of Prienlaskors, and the charger he
        bare away.
    Then Orilus was its master, and he gave it to knight Gawain      605
    On Plimizöl's shore--greatly joyed he when the charger he won
        again.

    Blithe was he, and high of courage, who awhile was sad and
        sore,
    Yet love unto ruth constrained him, and the service so true
        he bore
    To the lady who yet would shame him, and his thoughts ever
        toward her flew.
    Then up sprang proud Lischois lightly, and his good sword he
        gripped anew,                                                610
    For it lay where Gawain had cast it when he wrested it from
        his hand:
    And the ladies look down on the heroes, as for combat once
        more they stand.

    The shields were so hacked and riven that the knights they
        must cast them by,
    And, shieldless, to strife betake them, and they bare them
        right gallantly.
    And a crowd of fair maidens o'er them from the palace window
        saw                                                          615
    The strife that below was foughten: and fierce anger awoke
        once more,
    For too nobly born I wot me was each man that he might brook
    That his fame should be lightly yielded, and maids on his
        shaming look.
    And helmet and sword were smitten, for shields 'gainst cold
        death were they,
    He who saw the heroes strive there had mourned for their toil
        that day.                                                    620
    Lischois Giwellius bare him, that fair youth, as knight so
        brave,
    True courage, and deeds undaunted, the counsel his high heart
        gave.
    And many a swift blow dealt he, as quick on Gawain he sprung,
    And lightly avoided from him, and his blade round his head he
        swung.
    But Gawain stood firm and undaunted, and he thought him,
        'Now, let me hold                                            625
    Thee once in mine arms, I'll repay thee thy dealings, thou
        hero bold!'

    And fiery sparks might ye look on, and the flash of the
        glittering blade
    Well wielded by hand of hero--Nor one in his station stayed,
    For they pressed each one on the other, backward, forward, to
        either side,
    Yet this conflict so fierce, I wot me, did ne'er of revenge
        betide,                                                      630
    And no hatred they bare to each other--Then the arms of
        Gawain at last
    He clasped round his gallant foeman, and the knight to the
        ground he cast.
    And I think, an I friendship sware here, I would shrink from
        such fond embrace,
    E'en tho' brotherhood it were sealing--Nor with ye would such
        clasp find grace!

    Then Gawain he bade him yield him, yet Lischois, who against
        his will                                                     635
    Had striven when first he felled him, was all unready still.
    And he quoth, 'Wherefore thus delay thee, 'tis needless, take
        thou my life,
    For better to die than to yield me--Since I wot well that in
        this strife
    The fame that was mine aforetime hath vanished beneath thy
        blow,
    Of God must I be accursèd, since my glory such goal doth
        know!                                                        640
    For the love of fair Orgelusé have I served her with knightly
        hand,
    And many a knight have I felled here, for none might my arm
        withstand.
    Now shalt thou be heir to my glory, for it falleth to thee of
        right
    If thou, who my fame hath ended, here endeth my life, Sir
        Knight.'

    But King Lot's son he thought in this wise, 'To this deed
        have I little mind,                                          645
    My name, it shall gain small honour if this man here his
        death shall find,
    If for no sin of his I slay him, who is true and valiant
        knight--
    'Twas _her_ love that spurred him 'gainst me, for whose
        favour I too would fight;
    'Tis her beauty that doth constrain me, 'tis she that doth
        work me woe,
    Then why not, for the sake of my lady, show mercy to this my
        foe?                                                         650
    If perchance for mine own I win her, if mine own such bliss
        may be,
    Then _he_ cannot take her from me since stronger am I than
        he!
    And if o'er our strife she watcheth, then she must of a
        surety own
    That I, who for love would serve her, true service and good
        have shown!'
    Then out spake the gallant Gawain, 'I were loth thy life to
        take,                                                        655
    But hence will I let thee, scatheless, for fair Orgelusé's
        sake!'

    Weary were they, small wonder, then the fallen knight arose,
    And down on the grassy meadow apart sat those gallant foes.
    Then the master boatman stepped forth from the water unto the
        land,
    And a grey and yearling falcon he carried upon his hand.         660
    This right was his o'er the meadow, who jousted upon the
        plain,
    The charger of him who was vanquished he did as his tribute
        gain.
    From his hand, who was there the victor, should he take, as a
        gift, the steed,
    And bowing, thank him fairly, nor stint of his praise the
        meed.
    And such payment he oft had taken on the flowery meadow
        green,                                                       665
    Nor otherwise had his living; save at whiles, when such
        chance had been,
    That a bird in his falcon's clutches had fluttered in grief
        and pain.
    Nor plough drave he thro' those furrows, for enough did he
        deem his gain.
    And son of a folk so knightly was he born to a knight's
        estate,
    And courteous, I ween, his bearing who there on Gawain did
        wait.                                                        670

    So came he unto the hero, and with courteous word and fair
    He prayed of his hand the tribute, and the steed that should
        be his share.
    Quoth Gawain, the gallant hero, 'No merchant methinks I be
    To pay here or toll or tribute, from such tax do I hold me
        free!'
    Then he spake out, the master boatman, 'Sir Knight, since
        full many a maid                                             675
    Hath seen thee stand here the victor, by _thee_ be my tribute
        paid.
    My right o'er the plain must thou own here, in knightly joust
        thine hand
    Hath won for mine own this charger; nor thy fame shall the
        lower stand,
    For he, whom thine hand o'erthrew here, the world with his
        praises rung,
    And with truth, unto this day's dawning, have men of his
        glory sung;                                                  680
    But now he of God is stricken, and his joy hath an ending
        found,
    But _thou_, in his stead, I think me, with honour and fame
        art crowned!'

    Quoth Gawain, 'He first o'erthrew me, and I but that deed
        repaid.
    If tribute for joust be due here, by _him_ be that tribute
        paid!
    Look well on this mare, he won it, thou canst take it if such
        thy will.                                                    685
    The charger that standeth by me, as mine own will I claim it
        still--
    Tho' never a steed be thy portion, on _that_ steed I hence
        will go,
    Thou speakest of _right_, wouldst thou take it, then first I
        would have thee know
    (Yea, thou thyself wilt own it) 'tis unfitting I take my way
    Afoot, and right sore 'twould grieve me if that charger were
        thine alway!                                                 690
    For to-day in the early morning it was _mine_ without doubt
        or fear,
    And childish thou art if thou thinkest thus lightly to win it
        here!
    'Twas Duke Orilus, the Burgundian, who gave me the steed of
        old,
    Which Urian stole this morning, and the tale thou for truth
        shalt hold.
    And the foal of a mule shalt thou win thee ere thy prize be
        this steed of mine--                                         695
    Yet a fair gift in sooth will I give thee, for the _steed_
        shall the _knight_ be thine,
    Thou accountest him honour-worthy--if he say thee or yea or
        nay,
    And if well or ill it doth please him I abide by my word
        alway!'

    Then joyful I ween was the boatman, and with smiling lips he
        spake,
    'Now methinks that a gift so costly it hath ne'er been my lot
        to take,                                                     700
    And I deem myself all unworthy--Yet, Sir Knight, be he mine
        indeed,
    Then the guerdon is more than I asked for and o'er my deserts
        my meed.
    For his praises they rang so clearly that five hundred steeds
        all told,
    Swift-footed and strong for battle, too low for his price
        I'ld hold!
    If a rich man thou thus wilt make me, then this thing shalt
        thou do for me,                                              705
    To my boat shalt thou captive bring him, that I hold him as
        pledge from thee.'
    King Lot's son he spake in answer, 'Yea this will I do, and
        more,
    To thy boat first, and then from out it will I lead him
        within thy door,
    And there will I yield him captive'--'And there will I
        welcome thee!'
    Spake the boatman, and low he bowed him, and thanks spake he
        fair and free.                                               710
    And he quoth, 'Dear my lord and master, if it please thee to
        be my guest,
    And abide in my house till the morning, then softly I'll bid
        thee rest.
    Nor won boatman e'er higher honour, and blest be the eventide
    That seeth a knight so gallant 'neath the shade of my
        roof-tree bide.'

    Then out quoth Gawain, 'That will I, for in truth I had
        prayed this grace,                                           715
    For weary am I with battle, and fain would I rest a space.
    She who to this sorrow led me, her sweetness she maketh sour,
    And heart's joy shall be dear to purchase, and sorrow doth
        crown each hour,
    And the guerdon for this her service unlike to herself shall
        be--
    Alas! I had found a treasure, yet but loss hath it brought to
        me!                                                          720
    And one breast thro' that loss now sinketh that awhile
        swelled so proud and high,
    When joy was from God my portion, for a heart did beneath it
        lie.
    Now I think me that heart hath vanished, and where shall I
        comfort seek?
    Shall I helpless abide that Frau Minne her wrath upon me
        shall wreak?
    Yea, had she the heart of a woman she would give me my joy
        again                                                        725
    Who maketh her sweetness bitter, and turneth my bliss to
        pain!'

    Then the boatman he heard how he wrestled with sorrow, by
        love constrained,
    And he quoth, 'So is here the custom, in the forest as on the
        plain,
    As far as Klingsor ruleth, be he coward or valiant knight,
    "Sad to day, to-morrow joyful," So it goeth for peace or
        fight.                                                       730
    Perchance the truth thou knowst not? This land is a
        wonder-land,
    And ever by day and by night-time if good luck shall not aid
        thine hand
    Little good may thy manhood do thee! See thou how the sun
        sinks low,
    I think me, Sir Knight, it were better that we should to my
        vessel go!'
    Then Lischois he was led by Gawain, and never a word he
        spake,                                                       735
    And the boatman he followed after and the steed by its rein
        did take.

    So sailed they across the water, and they came to the further
        coast,
    And the boatman he prayed Sir Gawain, 'Be thou in mine house
        the host.'
    And so rich was the house and stately, that scarce in King
        Arthur's land,
    E'en in Nantes that noble city, did a fairer dwelling stand.     740
    And he led Lischois thro' the doorway, and he gave him unto
        the care
    Of the host and his folk--Then the boatman spake thus to his
        daughter fair,
    'Fair times and a goodly lodging be the lot of this noble
        knight
    Who standeth here, go thou with him, for I deem me it shall
        be right,
    And tend him as best shall seem thee, nor stint thou in aught
        thy care,                                                    745
    For great good hath he brought unto us, and 'tis meet he thy
        grace should share!'

    To his son's care he gave the charger---Then the maiden her
        sire's behest
    Fulfilled as right well became her, for she led the noble
        guest
    To a chamber fair, where the flooring was hid 'neath a carpet
        green
    Of rushes and fresh-plucked blossoms, as the way of the land
        had been.                                                    750
    There the gentle maid unarmed him--quoth Gawain, 'God show
        grace to thee,
    For had not thy sire thus bade thee too great were thy care
        for me!'
    And she quoth, 'For my father's bidding I do not this deed,
        Sir Knight,
    But rather that this my service may find favour before thy
        sight.'

    Then a squire, the host's son, must bear there soft cushions,
        a goodly store,                                              755
    And along the wall he laid them, and over against the door.
    And a carpet he spread before them that Gawain he might seat
        him there;
    And as one who knew well his office a cushion so rich he
        bare,
    With a covering of crimson sendal, that down on the couch he
        laid;
    And a seat like unto the other for the host he beside it
        made.                                                        760
    Came another squire and he carried fresh linen the board to
        spread,
    (For thus gave the host commandment,) and he bare with the
        linen bread.
    And the hostess she followed after, and she looked well upon
        Gawain,
    And she gave him a heartfelt greeting, and she spake, 'Now
        such grace we gain
    From thine hand we are rich henceforward as we never have
        been before,                                                 765
    Sir Knight, sure our good luck waketh since such fortune it
        hither bore!'

    Then when they had brought him water, and the host sat beside
        his guest,
    With courteous mien Sir Gawain this prayer to his host
        addrest,
    'Now I pray let this maid eat with me,' 'Sir Knight, ne'er
        was she allowed
    To sit with knights, or eat with them, lest she wax of their
        grace too proud.                                             770
    And yet so much do we owe thee, loth were I to say thee nay.
    So, daughter, sit thou beside him, and as he shall speak
        obey!'

    Then she blushed for shame all rosy, yet she did as her
        father bade,
    And down on the couch by Gawain sat Bené the gracious maid.
    (And two stalwart sons had the boatman beside that maiden
        sweet)                                                       775
    Three game-birds, I ween, that even were slain by the falcon
        fleet,
    And all three did they bear unto Gawain, and a broth with
        herbs beside,
    And the maiden she courteous served him as she sat by the
        hero's side;
    For she carved for him dainty morsels, and laid them on bread
        so white
    With her slender hands, and gently she spake to the stranger
        knight,                                                      780
    'Wilt thou send a bird to my mother? for else hath she none,
        I ween.'
    Then gladly he told the maiden his will e'en as hers had been
    In this thing as in all other--to the hostess the bird they
        bare,
    And they honoured the hand of the hero, nor the boatman his
        thanks would spare.

    Purslain and lettuce brought they, in vinegar steeped, I ween    785
    Had he sought here his strength to nourish little good might
        such food have been;
    And if one should o'er-long feed on it then the colour it
        waxeth pale,
    Such pallor as truth betrayeth, if the mouth to its speaking
        fail.
    And if with false red it be hidden, it fadeth, and bringeth
        shame,
    But she who is true and steadfast she winneth the higher
        fame.                                                        790

    If one by goodwill were nourished, then Gawain, he right well
        had fed,
    To her child naught the mother grudgeth, and as free gave the
        host his bread.
    Then they bare away the tables, and the hostess she bade him
        rest,
    And bedding I ween in plenty they brought for the gallant
        guest.
    And one was of down, and the covering above it of velvet
        green,                                                       795
    Yet the velvet was none of the richest tho' fair had its
        fashion been.
    And a cushion must serve for cover, beneath it should Gawain
        lie;
    Nor the silk had with gold been purchased, 'twas won in far
        Araby.
    Of silk, too, the cunning stitching, and the linen was fair,
        and white
    As snow that they laid above it, and a pillow they brought
        the knight.                                                  800
    And a cloak of her own she lent him, for wrapping, that
        maiden fair,
    'Twas new, and of ermine fashioned, and such as a prince
        might wear.

    Then leave the host courteous prayed him ere he laid himself
        down to sleep,
    And men say that alone with Sir Gawain the maiden her watch
        did keep,
    And I think if he more had prayed her she never had said him
        Nay--                                                        805
    Then he slept, for he well might slumber, God keep him till
        dawn of day!

BOOK XI

ARNIVE

ARGUMENT

Book XI. tells how Gawain would brave the venture of the Château
Marveil, and how the boatman and his daughter strove to withhold
        him.
How Gawain came to the Castle, and of the Lit Merveil and its
        perils.
How Gawain slew the lion, and ended the enchantments of the
        castle, and
how he was healed of his wounds by the Queen Arnivé.

                                BOOK XI

                                 ARNIVE

    Weary he closed his eyelids, and he slept in a slumber deep
    Till the light of the early morning must waken him from his
        sleep.
    And many a window saw he within that chamber wall,
    And clear glass was before each window--Thro' a doorway the
        light did fall,
    'Twas open, without was an orchard, thither gat him the
        gallant knight                                                 5
    For the air, and the song-birds' music, and to see what might
        meet his sight
    And but little space had he sat there, when the castle he saw
        again
    As at eventide he saw it when he fought on the grassy plain.
    And he saw from the hall of the palace full many a maiden
        gaze,
    And many were fair to look on; and he thought, with a great
        amaze,                                                        10
    That a wondrous watch they must keep there, since they
        wearied not thro' the night,
    And little might they have slumbered, for as yet scarce had
        dawned the light.

    Then he thought, 'For the sake of these ladies will I lay me
        to sleep once more.'
    Then again to his couch he gat him, and for covering he drew
        him o'er
    The mantle the maid had lent him--Did no man his slumber
        break?                                                        15
    Nay, sorely the host had vexed him, if one should his guest
        awake.
    Then of true heart bethought the maiden, who soft by her
        mother lay,
    And she roused her from out her slumber, and she took to the
        guest her way,
    And again he slept so sweetly--Then she thought her, that
        gentle maid,
    That fain would she do him service, and she sat her beside
        his bed,                                                      20
    Fair was she, and sweet to look on, and but seldom at
        eventide,
    Or in hour of the early dawning, such venture has sought my
        side!
    Short space ere Gawain awakened and beheld how she watched
        him there,
    And he looked and he laughed upon her, 'God reward thee, thou
        maiden fair,
    That thou breakest for me thy slumber, on thyself dost thou
        vengeance take,                                               25
    Since nor service nor joust so knightly have I ridden for thy
        sweet sake!'
    And she answered, that gracious maiden, 'On thy service no
        claim have I,
    But look thou with favour on me, and thy will do I willingly,
    And all who are with my father, yea, mother alike and child,
    Do hail thee their lord and master, for love of thy dealings
        mild!'                                                        30

    Then he quoth, 'Is it long since thou camest? Had I of thy
        coming known
    Fain would I have asked a question, perchance thou the truth
        hadst shown:
    Yestreen and again this morning fair ladies have looked on me
    From a mighty tower, of thy goodness now tell me who may they
        be?'
    But the maiden she shrunk in terror, and she cried, 'Ask me
        not, Sir Knight,                                              35
    Since ne'er may I give an answer--I prithee to hear aright,
    If I knew, yet I might not tell thee, nor do thou my silence
        chide,
    But ask thou what else shall please thee and my lips naught
        from thee shall hide,
    But on this thing alone keep silence, and follow thou what I
        say!'
    But Gawain, he would ever ask her, and ever an answer pray,       40
    What ladies were they who sat there, and looked from that
        stately hall?
    And the maiden she wept full sorely, and aloud in her grief
        did call.

    'Twas yet in the early dawning, and her father he sought her
        side,
    Nor I deem me had he been wrathful if here did such chance
        betide
    That Gawain with the maid had striven, and had forced her
        unto his will,                                                45
    And the maiden, so fair and gentle, in such wise did she hold
        her still,
    For beside the couch was she seated--Then her father he
        mildly spake,
    'Now weep not so sore, my daughter, for if one a jest doth
        make
    Whereof thou at first art wrathful, yet I ween ere the time
        be long,
    Shall thy sorrow be changed to gladness, and thy wailing to
        joyful song!'                                                 50

    Quoth Gawain, 'Nay, mine host, naught hath chanced here save
        that which thine eye may see;
    This maiden I fain would question, but naught would she tell
        to me,
    For she thinketh, 'tis my undoing, and silence hath she
        implored:
    But now if it shall not vex thee let my service here find
        reward,
    And tell me, mine host, if it please thee, how it stands with
        those ladies there,                                           55
    For I know not the place or the country where I looked on
        such maidens fair,
    So many there are, and their raiment showeth clear to my
        wondering sight!'
    Then the host wrung his hands for sorrow, and he spake, 'Ask
        me not, Sir Knight,
    In the name of God, ask no question--For wherever thy foot
        shall speed,
    Or whatever thine eyes shall light on, no need shall be like
        their need!'                                                  60

    'Then soothly I'll mourn for their sorrow,' quoth Gawain,
        'but mine host now say
    Why vex thee so sore for my question? Thine answer why thus
        delay?'
    'Sir Knight, for thy manhood mourn I, if thou wilt not thy
        question spare
    Then strife sure shall be thy portion, and sorrow thine heart
        shall bear.
    And thy sorrow of joy shall rob us, myself and my children
        three,                                                        65
    Who were born for thy gallant service true service to yield
        to thee.'
    Quoth Gawain, 'Yet for this thou shalt tell me, or if thou
        still say me, Nay,
    And I learn not from thee the story yet the truth will I know
        alway!'

    Then the host he spake out truly, 'Sir Knight, I must sorely
        rue,
    The question thou here dost ask me--Thou goest to strife
        anew,                                                         70
    Arm thee well, and a shield I'll lend thee--In "Terre
        Merveil" thou art,
    And the "Lit Merveil" shall be here--And ne'er hath a
        knightly heart
    Withstood all the many dangers that in Château Merveil shall
        be!
    Turn aside, ere thy death o'ertake thee, for life should be
        dear to thee!
    For wherever thine hand shall have striven, or what ventures
        soe'er it found                                               75
    As child's play have been thy perils to those which beset
        this ground!'

    Quoth Gawain, 'Yet 'twould sorely vex me, if I, but to save
        me pain,
    Rode hence, doing naught, and those ladies had looked for
        mine aid in vain.
    Long since have I heard of this castle, and since it so near
        doth stand
    No man from the task shall bring me; to the venture I set my
        hand!'                                                        80
    Then the host he did sore bemoan him, and he spake to his
        guest so true,
    'Now as naught is all other peril, what perils around thee
        drew,
    To the peril of this adventure, to its awe, and its anguish
        dire,
    And naught but the truth am I speaking, for no man ever spake
        me liar!
    But that gallant knight, Sir Gawain, for naught would he turn
        aside,                                                        85
    But he quoth, 'Now mine host give counsel how the strife I
        may best abide,
    If thy words be the words of wisdom, and God give me the
        strength thereto,
    Thy will and thy rede I'll follow, and knightly the deeds
        I'll do!
    Sir Host, of a sooth it were ill done, did I fail here a blow
        to strike,
    And coward should I be accounted of foeman and friend alike.'     90
    Then first did the host bemoan him, such sorrow he ne'er
        might know,
    And he quoth to his guest, 'If it may be that Heaven such
        grace shall show
    That death be not here thy portion, then this land unto thee
        shall fall.
    And the stake is full many a maiden fast bound in a magic
        thrall,
    No man ere this day hath freed them--And with them many noble
        knights                                                       95
    Shall lie as yet imprisoned; and if thou with hand of might
    Shall loose them, thou winnest glory, and God showeth grace
        to thee,
    And joyful, o'er light and beauty, king and ruler thou sure
        shalt be!
    And maidens from many a country shall honour thee as their
        king.
    Nor think, if thou now dost ride hence, such deed shame on
        thee should bring,                                           100
    Since on this field Lischois Giwellius hath yielded him to
        thine hand,
    And left unto thee his honour; who erstwhile in every land
    Hath done gallant deeds of knighthood, of right may I praise
        his name,
    No knight showed a higher courage, or won him a fairer fame.
    And in no heart the root of virtue it showeth such fair
        increase                                                     105
    In blossom and flower of God's planting, save in Ither of
        Gaheviess!'

    'And he who at Nantes slew Prince Ither my ship bare but
        yesterday,
    Five steeds hath he given unto me, (God keep him in peace
        alway,)
    Princes and kings once rode them, but now they afar must
        fare,
    And tidings of him who o'erthrew them must they carry to
        Pelrapär.                                                    110
    For thus have they sworn the victor--His shield telleth many
        a tale
    Of jousting so fair and knightly--He rode hence to seek the
        Grail!'

    Quoth Gawain, 'Say, whence came he hither? Mine host, since
        he rode so near,
    Knew he naught of the wondrous venture? Or did he the marvel
        hear?'
    'Sir Knight, ne'er a word hath he heard here, I guarded me
        all too well,                                                115
    Lest unseemly my deed be reckoned if unasked I the tale
        should tell.
    And hadst thou thyself not asked me thou never from me hadst
        known
    The venture that here awaits thee, wrought of terror and pain
        alone.
    If thou wilt not forego this peril, and thy life shall the
        forfeit pay,
    Then never a greater sorrow have we known than we know
        to-day.                                                      120
    But if thou shalt here be victor, and over this land shalt
        reign,
    Then my poverty hath an ending, and my loss shall be turned
        to gain;
    Such trust in thy free hand have I, I shall joy without
        sorrow know
    If thy glory here winneth glory, and thy body be not laid
        low!'

    'Now arm thee for deadly warfare!'--unarmed was as yet
        Gawain,                                                      125
    'Now I prithee bring here my harness!' and the host to his
        will was fain.
    And from head to foot she armed him, the maiden fair and
        tall,
    And her father he sought the charger--Now a shield hung upon
        the wall,
    And the wood it was tough and well hardened, (else Gawain
        ne'er this tale might tell,)
    And the shield and the horse were brought him--and the host
        he bethought him well;                                       130
    And, as once more he stood before him, he spake, 'List thou
        well, Sir Knight,
    I will tell thee how thou shalt bear thee, and guard thee thy
        life in fight:'

    'My shield shalt thou carry with thee! Of war shall it bear
        no trace
    For but seldom I strive in battle, nor I count it me as
        disgrace.
    When thou comest, Sir Knight, to the castle, do this, it
        shall serve thy steed:                                       135
    At the doorway a merchant sitteth, buy of him that which thou
        shalt need,
    Then give him thy steed, he will hold it, nor care thou what
        thou shalt buy,
    As a pledge will he hold thy charger, and will give it thee
        joyfully
    If unhurt from the Burg thou comest!' Quoth Gawain, 'Say,
        shall I not ride?'
    'Nay, nay, for sore peril neareth, and the maidens their
        faces hide!'                                                 140

    'Thou shalt find that fair palace lonely, deserted by great
        and small,
    And no token of living creature shalt thou see in that
        stately hall.
    And may God's grace watch o'er thy footsteps, and His
        blessing go with thine hand
    When thou comest into the chamber where the "Lit Merveil"
        shall stand.
    And the couch, and the rollers beneath it, in Morocco they
        first were made                                              145
    For the Ruler of all the Faithful; and were it in the balance
        weighed
    'Gainst all treasures of crown and kingdom it still would
        outweigh them all.
    And I wot, there shall ill o'ertake thee, and God knoweth
        what shall befall,
    But I pray that the end be joyful! Yet hearken, Sir Knight,
        to me,
    This sword and this shield that thou holdest, in thine hand
        must they ever be,                                           150
    For surely when thou shalt think thee that the peril hath
        done its worst,
    Then _first_ mayst thou look for conflict, and _then_ shall
        the storm-cloudburst!'

    Then mournful I ween was the maiden, as Gawain to the saddle
        sprung,
    And all they who stood around her they wept and their hands
        they wrung,
    Then he quoth to his host, 'God grant me that hereafter I may
        repay                                                        115
    The care and the kindly counsel I have won from thy lips
        to-day.'
    Then leave did he pray of the maiden, and her sorrow was sore
        to see,
    He rode hence, and they whom he left here they mourned for
        him bitterly.
    And now, if ye fain would hearken what unto Gawain befell,
    The tale of his wondrous venture right gladly to ye I'll
        tell.                                                        160

    And in this wise I heard the story--As he came to the castle
        gate,
    A merchant with merchandise costly without did his coming
        wait.
    And so rich were his wares, and precious, that in sooth I
        were glad at heart
    If I, in so great a treasure, my portion might bear and part.
    Then, Sir Gawain, he sprang from his charger, for ne'er had
        he seen before                                               165
    Outspread in the open market such goods as were here in
        store.
    And the booth was of velvet fashioned, four-square, and both
        wide and high,
    And that which lay there for purchase no monarch might
        lightly buy.
    The Baruch of Bagdad scarcely had paid that which lay
        therein;
    Nor the Patriarch of Rankulat might think him such prize to
        win.                                                         170
    Yea, and great as shall be the treasure that was found but
        awhile ago
    In the land of the Greeks yet their Emperor such riches might
        hardly know!
    And e'en if these twain had helped him the price he had
        failed to pay
    That a man must count for the treasure that here before
        Gawain lay.

    Then the knight greeted well the merchant as he looked on the
        wondrous store                                               175
    Of marvels that lay before him, but he stayed not to turn it
        o'er,
    But bade him show clasp and girdle; then he quoth to the hero
        bold,
    'For many a year have I sat here, yet no man doth my wares
        behold;
    None but ladies have looked upon them! yet if manhood shall
        nerve thine hand
    Of all here shalt thou be the master; they were brought from
        a distant land,                                              180
    If here thou shalt be the victor, (for in sooth hast thou
        come for fight,)
    And the venture shall well betide thee, I will deal with thee
        well, Sir Knight!
    For all that my booth containeth is thine if thou win the
        day!
    So trust thou in God and His mercy, and take to the Burg thy
        way.
    Plippalinòt in sooth hath sent thee, and thy coming well
        praised shall be                                             185
    Of many a gracious maiden if thy prowess shall set her free!'

    'Now wouldst thou withstand this venture leave here for
        awhile thy steed,
    If thou trust it unto my keeping, I will give to the charge
        good heed.'
    Quoth Gawain, 'Yea, I'll gladly do so, if unseemly be not the
        task,
    Too greatly I fear thy riches such grace from thine hand to
        ask,                                                         190
    For ne'er since I rode upon it such keeper my steed hath
        known'--
    Out quoth the merchant freely, 'Sir Knight, all shall be
        thine own,
    Myself, and the wares I guard here, (nor further of them I'll
        speak,)
    They are his, who in safety faceth the danger thou here dost
        seek!'

    And so bold was I ween the hero that on foot did he go
        straightway,                                                 195
    Undaunted, to face the peril untold that before him lay.
    And, as I before have told ye, the Burg it stood high and
        wide,
    And its bulwarks so stoutly builded did guard it on either
        side.
    If for thirty years they stormed it, not a berry or leaf
        would yield,
    However the foe might threaten; in the midst was a grassy
        field,                                                       200
    (Yet the Lechfeld I ween is longer,) many turrets they
        towered on high,
    And the story it tells that Gawain, as the palace he did
        espy,
    Saw the roof shine all many-coloured, as peacock's plumes its
        glow,
    And so bright it was that its glory was dimmed nor by rain
        nor snow.

    And within was it richly furnished, and decked to delight the
        eye,                                                         205
    And the pillars were richly carven, and the windows were
        arched on high,
    And many a fair couch costly had they set there against the
        wall,
    Nor touched they the one to the other, and rich covers lay
        over all.
    And but now had the maidens sat there, but each one had taken
        thought,
    And no one of them all remained there, and of welcome Gawain
        found naught.                                                210
    Yet their joy came again with his coming, and the day of
        their bliss was he,
    And 'twere well they had looked upon him, none fairer their
        eyes might see.
    Yet none there might dare behold him, tho' to serve them he
        aye was fain,
    And yet in this thing were they guiltless--Thro' the palace
        strode knight Gawain,
    And he looked on this side and the other, and he sought well
        the chamber o'er,                                            215
    If to left or to right I know not, but he saw there an open
        door,
    And wherever that door might lead him the hero was fain to
        go,
    If high fame he might gain for his seeking, or die there a
        death of woe!

    So stepped he within the chamber, and behold! the shining
        floor,
    As glass it lay smooth beneath him, and the Lit-Merveil he
        saw,                                                         220
    The wonder-couch; and beneath it four rollers as crystal
        clear,
    And fashioned of fire-red rubies: as the swift wind afar and
        near
    Did it speed o'er the shining pavement, no floor might fairer
        be,
    Chrysolite, sardius, jasper, inwrought there the eye might
        see.
    For so had Klingsor willed it, and the thought it was his
        alone,                                                       225
    From far-off lands his magic had brought to the Burg each
        stone.

    So smooth 'neath his feet the pavement, scarce might be his
        footing hold,
    Then fain would he seek the venture, but, so is the marvel
        told,
    As ever he stood before it the couch from its station fled,
    And swift as the winds of heaven o'er the glittering floor it
        sped.                                                        230
    (And Gawain he found all too heavy the shield that his hand
        gripped fast,
    And yet did his host give counsel it should ne'er on one side
        be cast.)
    Thought Gawain, 'Now, how may I reach thee, since still thou
        dost fly from me?
    Methinks thou shalt have a lesson, it may be I may spring to
        thee!'
    Then still stood the couch before him, and straight from the
        ground he leapt                                              235
    And stood firm in the midst of the marvel, and again o'er the
        floor it swept,
    And hither and thither turning in the four walls its goal it
        found,
    And blow upon blow fell swiftly, till the Burg echoed back
        the sound.

    And many a charge did he ride there, with crash, as of
        thunder-cloud,
    Or as trumpeters blow together when their blasts thro' the
        hall ring loud,                                              240
    And the one vieth with the other, and each for a fair prize
        blows.
    Less loud should have been their tumult than the tumult that
        there arose!
    And waken and watch must Sir Gawain, altho' on a bed he lay.
    How best might the hero guard him? The noise he was fain to
        stay,
    And his head with his shield he covered--There he lay, and
        would wait His will                                          245
    Who hath help in His power, and helpeth all those who entreat
        Him still,
    And shutteth His ear to no man who in sorrow for aid doth
        pray.
    And the man who is wise and steadfast, as dawneth his
        sorrow's day,
    Doth call on the hand of the Highest, that shall ne'er be too
        short to reach,
    And the aid that shall meet their lacking He sendeth to all
        and each.                                                    250
    And so was it now with Gawain--Thro' Whose grace he had
        gotten fame,
    He called on His power and His mercy to shelter him here from
        shame.

    Then stilled for a space the clamour--The couch stood within
        the hall,
    And an equal space had they measured from its station to
        either wall.
    Yet now waxed his peril greater, for five hundred missiles,
        swung                                                        255
    With craft from hands yet hidden, were against Sir Gawain
        flung.
    And they fell on the couch as he lay there; but the shield it
        was hard and new,
    And it sheltered him well, and I think me of the blows did he
        feel but few.
    And the stones were as river pebbles, so heavy, and hard, and
        round,
    And in many a place on the surface of the shield might their
        trace be found.                                              260

    At length was the stone-shower ended, and never before he
        knew
    Such sharp and such heavy missiles as those which toward him
        flew.
    For now full five hundred cross-bows were bended, their bolts
        they sped,
    And each one was aimed at the hero as he lay on the
        Wonder-Bed.
    (And he who hath faced such peril in sooth he of darts may
        tell:)                                                       265
    Yet their wrath was soon spent, and silence for awhile on the
        chamber fell.
    And he who would seek for comfort he ne'er on such couch
        should lie!
    Little solace or rest may he find there, but peace from his
        face shall fly!
    And youth would wax grey and agèd, if such comfort should be
        its share
    As fell to the lot of Gawain, when he lay on that couch so
        fair.                                                        270
    Yet nor weariness nor terror had weakened or hand or heart,
    Tho' the stones and the bolts of the cross-bow had done on
        his limbs their part,
    And spite of both shield and corslet, sore bruisèd and cut
        was he:
    And he thought that, this peril ended, the venture should
        ended be--
    But yet with his hand must he battle, and the prize of the
        victor win,                                                  275
    For a doorway e'en now flew open, and one trode the hall
        within;
    And the man was a mighty peasant, and fearful of face, and
        grim,
    And the hide of the grey sea-otter was his covering on head
        and limb,
    And his hosen were wide, and he carried a club in his strong
        right hand,
    And 'twas thicker I ween than a pitcher that round-bellied
        doth firmly stand.                                           280

    So came he unto Sir Gawain, (and his coming it pleased him
        ill,)
    Yet he thought, 'He doth bear no harness, mine arms shall
        withstand him still,'
    Upright on the couch he sat him, as nor terror nor pain he
        knew,
    And the peasant, as he would flee him, a space from the bed
        withdrew,
    And he cried in a voice so wrathful, 'From _me_ hast thou
        naught to fear,                                              285
    Yet such peril I'll loose upon thee that thy life must thou
        buy full dear;
    The devil himself doth aid thee, else wert thou not still in
        life,
    Bethink thee, for death cometh swiftly, and the ending of all
        thy strife,
    No more can the devil shield thee, that I tell thee ere hence
        I pass!'
    Then he gat him once more thro' the doorway, and Gawain
        gripped his sword-hilt fast,                                 290
    And the shafts did he smite asunder of the arrows that thro'
        his shield
    Had passed, and had pierced his armour, nor yet to his hand
        would yield.

    Then a roar, as of mighty thunder, on the ear of Gawain did
        fall,
    As when twenty drums were sounding to dance in the castle
        hall.
    Then the hero, so firm and dauntless, whose courage ne'er
        felt the smart                                               295
    Of the wounds that cowardice pierceth, thought thus in his
        steadfast heart:
    'What evil shall now befall me? Must I yet more sorrow know?
    For sorrow enow have I seen here, yet here will I face my
        foe!'
    He looked toward the peasant's doorway, and a mighty lion
        sprang thro',
    And its size was e'en that of a warhorse, and straight on
        Gawain it flew.                                              300
    But Gawain he was loth to fly here, and his shield he held
        fast before,
    As best for defence should serve him, and he sprang down upon
        the floor.
    And the lion was hunger-ravening, yet little should find for
        food,
    Tho' raging it sprang on the hero, who bravely its rush
        withstood.

    The shield it had near torn from him, with the first grip its
        talons fierce                                                305
    It drave thro' the wood, such hardness but seldom a beast may
        pierce.
    Yet Gawain did right well defend him, his sword-blade aloft
        he swung,
    And on three feet the beast must hold him, while the fourth
        from the shield yet hung.
    And the blood gushed forth on the pavement, and Gawain he
        firmer stood,
    And the fight raged hither and thither, as the lion, on the
        hero good,                                                   310
    Sprang ever with snorting nostrils, and gleaming fangs and
        white--
    And if on such food they had reared it, that its meat was a
        gallant knight,
    _I_ had cared not to sit beside it! Nor such custom pleased
        Gawain well,
    Who for life or for death must fight it--and the strife ever
        fiercer fell.

    So sorely the beast was wounded, the chamber with blood ran
        o'er;                                                        315
    Fierce sprang the lion upon Gawain, and would bear him unto
        the floor,
    But Gawain a sword-thrust dealt him, thro' the heart the
        swift blade sped
    Till his hand smote full on the breast-bone, and the lion at
        his feet fell dead.
    And now all the deadly peril and the conflict was over-past--
    In the same hour Gawain bethought him, 'Where now shall my
        lot be cast?                                                 320
    Since to sit in this blood I like not, and I must of the
        couch beware,
    For it runneth a race so frantic 'twere foolish to sit me
        there!'

    But yet was his head so deafened with the blows that upon him
        fell,
    And many his wounds, and the life-blood did forth from its
        fountains well,
    And his strength waxed faint, and it left him, and he fell on
        the chamber floor;                                           325
    His head lay on the lion's body, and the shield might he hold
        no more.
    And if wisdom and power were his portion, of the twain was he
        reft I ween,
    And tho' fair was the Burg, yet within it full rough had his
        handling been.

    His senses forsook him wholly--no such pillow I ween was his
    As that which on Mount Ribbelé Gymele gave to Kahenis;           330
    Both fair and wise was the maiden--and his honour he slept
        away--
    But here honour ran swift-footed to Gawain as he prostrate
        lay.
    For in sooth ye shall well have hearkened, and shall know how
        such chance befell,
    That thus lay the hero lifeless, from the first have ye heard
        it well.

    Then in secret one looked upon him, and the chamber with
        blood was red,                                               335
    And the lion alike and the hero they lay as the twain were
        dead.
    'Twas a fair and gracious maiden who saw thro' a loop-hole
        high,
    And her face it grew wan, and the colour from her lips and
        her cheek must fly.
    And youth was so heavy-hearted that old age sore must mourn
        her tale.
    Yet Arnivé was wise, and her wisdom did here o'er the woe
        prevail,                                                     340
    And still for this deed must I praise her, she drew near to
        aid Gawain,
    And from peril of death she freed him who freedom for her
        would gain.

    Then herself she was fain to behold him, and they gazed thro'
        the window small,
    And naught might they tell, those women, of what waited them
        in the hall.
    Was it news of a joyful future? Or of woe that should last
        for aye?                                                     345
    And the queen's heart it sore misgave her that the hero had
        died that day,
    (And the thought brought her grief and sorrow,) since he
        sought him no better bed,
    But silent he lay, and rested on the corse of the lion his
        head.
    And she spake, 'From my heart I mourn thee, if thy manhood so
        true and brave
    Hath won thee no better guerdon, and thy life thou hast
        failed to save.                                              350
    If death here hath been thy portion for our sake, who shall
        strangers be,
    And thy truth to such fate hath brought thee, then for ever
        I'll mourn for thee.
    And thy virtue I'll praise, tho' the counting of thy years I
        may never know!'
    And she spake to the weeping women, as they looked on the
        knight laid low,
    'Ye maids who shall be baptizèd, and by water have won a
        place                                                        355
    In God's kingdom, pray ye unto Him, that He show to this hero
        grace!'

    Then she sent below two maidens, and she bade them to seek
        Gawain,
    And softly draw nigh unto him, nor pass from his side again
    Till they brought her full assurance how it went with the
        gallant knight,
    If perchance he should yet be living, or had found his death
        in fight.                                                    360
    So she gave to the twain commandment--Did they weep those
        maidens fair?
    Yea, both must weep full sorely for the grief that was here
        their share,
    When they found the hero lying, for his wounds they ran with
        blood
    Till the shield in blood was swimming--then they bent o'er
        the hero good,
    And with gentle hand the helmet one loosened from off his
        head,                                                        365
    And she saw a light foam gathered upon his lips so red,
    And she waited a space and hearkened, if perchance she might
        hear his breath,
    For but now had she thought him living, yet she deemed it
        might well be death.
    And his over-dress was of sable, and the mystic beasts it
        bore,
    Such as Ilinot the Breton as his badge with great honour
        wore.                                                        370
    (And courage and fame were his portion from his youth till
        his dying day.)
    From the coat with her ready fingers the sable she tore away,
    And she held it before his nostrils, for thus might she
        better know
    If yet he should live, since his breathing would stir the
        hair to and fro.

    And the breath was yet there, and straightway she bade her
        companion bring                                              375
    Fair water, the gentle maiden did swift on her errand spring.
    Then the maid placed her ring so golden betwixt his teeth
        closed fast,
    And deft was her hand in the doing, and between his lips she
        passed,
    Drop by drop, e'en as he might take it, the water, and little
        space
    Ere he lifted once more his eyelids, and he looked on the
        maiden's face.                                               380
    And he thanked them, those two sweet children, and offered
        them service meet--
    Alas! that ye here should find me, unseemly laid at your
        feet!
    If ye will on this chance keep silence, for good will I count
        the deed,
    And courtesy shall ye honour if ye give to my words good
        heed!'

    Quoth the maid, 'Thou hast lain, and thou liest, as one who
        the prize doth hold,                                         385
    In sooth thou art here the victor and in joy shall thy life
        wax old,
    To-day is thy day of triumph! But comfort us now I pray,
    Is it so with thy wounds that, naught fearing, we may joy in
        thy joy to-day?'
    Then he quoth, 'Would ye see me living, then help shall ye
        bring to me.'
    And he prayed of those gracious maidens that a leech to his
        wounds should see,                                           390
    Or one who was skilled in healing, 'But if yet I must face
        the strife,
    Go ye hence, give me here my helmet, and gladly I'll guard my
        life!'
    But they spake, 'Nay, the strife is over, Sir Knight, send us
        not away,
    Yet one shall go, and the guerdon of messenger win
        straightway.
    To the four queens shall she betake her, and shall say that
        thou livest still,                                           395
    And a chamber shall they prepare thee, and leechcraft with
        right goodwill,
    And with salves shall thy wounds be tended, and so mild shall
        their working be
    That thy pain shall be swiftly lessened, and healing be
        brought to thee!'
    Then one of the maids sprang swiftly, and she ran with no
        halting tread,
    With the news that the knight was living straightway to the
        court she sped.                                              400
    'In sooth shall he be so living, if ever it be God's will,
    Rich in joy may we be henceforward and glad without fear of
        ill,
    For naught but good help he needeth,' 'Dieu Merci!' then
        quoth they all.
    Then the old queen wise her maidens did straightway around
        her call,
    And she bade them a bed prepare him, and a carpet she spread
        before,                                                      405
    And a fire on the hearth burnt brightly, and precious the
        salves they bore.
    And the queen with wisdom mixed them for the healing of cut
        or bruise.
    In that hour from among her women four maids did Arnivé
        choose,
    And she bade them disarm the hero, and his harness bear soft
        away,
    And with wisdom should they deal with him lest he feel
        himself shamed alway.                                        410
    'A silk shall ye bear about ye, in its shadow the knight
        disarm,
    If yet he can walk he may do so, if else, bear him in your
        arms
    To where I by the bed await him, for his couch will I rightly
        care,
    If the strife in such wise hath fallen that no deadly wound
        he bear,
    Then I think me I soon may heal him, but if wounded he be to
        death                                                        415
    Then cloven our joy--with the hero are we slain tho' we yet
        draw breath!'

    And all this was done as she bade them, disarmed was the
        knight Gawain,
    Then they led him where help they gave him who well knew to
        ease his pain.
    And of wounds did they find full fifty, or perchance they
        were even more,
    But the darts had not pierced too deeply since ever his
        shield he bore.                                              420
    Then the queen in her wisdom took her warm wine, and a sendal
        blue,
    And Dictam, the herb of healing, and she wiped with her hand
        so true
    The blood from his wounds, and she closed them, and the flow
        of the life-blood stayed.
    And wherever his helm was indented the stones on his head had
        made
    Sore bruises, yet they must vanish 'fore the salves and their
        healing power,                                               425
    And the master-skill of Arnivé who tended him in that hour!

    And she quoth, 'Ease I well may give thee, whiles Kondrie
        doth come to me,
    And all help that may be in leechcraft of her friendship she
        telleth free.
    Since Anfortas so sore doth suffer, and they seek aid from
        far and near,
    This salve shall from death have kept him, from Monsalväsch
        'twas brought me here.'                                      430
    When Gawain heard she spake of Monsalväsch, then in sooth was
        he glad at heart,
    For he deemed it was near--Then this hero, who ne'er had in
        falsehood part,
    Spake thus to the queen, 'Now, Lady, my senses that far were
        fled,
    Hast thou won back again, and mine anguish I ween hast thou
        minishèd,
    What of strength shall be mine, or of wisdom, I owe to thine
        hand alone,                                                  435
    Thy servant am I!' But the queen spake, 'Sir Knight, thou
        such faith hast shown
    That we all must rejoice in thy welfare, and strive for it
        faithfully.
    But follow my rede, nor speak much, a root will I give to
        thee
    That shall win thee refreshing slumber, thou shalt care not
        for drink or meat
    Till the night, then such food I'll bring thee thou shalt
        need not ere morn to eat.'                                   440

    Then a root 'twixt his lips she laid there, and straightway
        he fell asleep,
    And throughout the day he slumbered, and in coverings they
        happed him deep.
    Rich in honour and poor in shaming, soft and warm, there in
        peace he lay,
    Yet he sneezed, and at whiles he shivered, for the salve
        wrought on him alway.
    And a company of fair women passed within and without the
        door,                                                        445
    And fair was the light of their faces, and stately the mien
        they bore.
    And she bade them, the Queen Arnivé, that silence they all
        should keep,
    None should call, and no maiden answer, so long as the knight
        should sleep.
    And she bade them fast close the palace, nor burger, nor
        squire, nor knight,
    Should hear what had there befallen till the dawn of the
        morning light.                                               450

    But new sorrow drew nigh to the women--The knight slept till
        even grey,
    Then Arnivé the queen in her wisdom drew the root from his
        lips away.
    And straightway he woke, and he thirsted, and they brought
        him of drink and meat,
    And he raised himself and, rejoicing, as they brought him so
        would he eat:
    And many a maid stood before him, such fair service he ne'er
        had known,                                                   455
    So courteous their mien and bearing--then he looked at them
        one by one
    And he gazed at each and the other, yet still his desire was
        set
    On the lady Orgelusé, for ne'er saw he woman yet,
    In all the days of his lifetime, who so near to his heart did
        lie;
    Tho' many his prayer had hearkened, and _some_ did their love
        deny!                                                        460
    Then out spake the gallant hero to Arnivé, his leech so wise,
    'Lady, 'twill ill beseem me, nor deal I in courteous guise,
    If these ladies stand here before me, I would they might
        seated be,
    Or if such be thy will it were better shouldst thou bid them
        to eat with me!'
    'Nay, Sir Knight, none I ween may sit here save I, the queen,
        alone,                                                       465
    And shamed would they surely hold them were such service not
        gladly done,
    For our joy shalt thou be; yet I think me that if this be thy
        will indeed,
    Whate'er shall be thy commandment, we will give to thy words
        good heed.'
    But nobly born were those ladies, and their courtesy did they
        show,
    For all with one voice they prayed him he would e'en let the
        thing be so,                                                 470
    And while he should eat they would stand there; so waited
        they on the guest
    And passed hence when the meal was ended and Gawain was laid
        to rest.

BOOK XII

EIDEGAST

ARGUMENT

In Book XII. the poet recounts the valiant deeds done by Gawain's
kinsmen for love's sake, and how they were as naught to the
        perils
dared by Gawain.

Of the watch-tower in the castle, and the magic pillar, and how
        Gawain
beheld the coming of Orgelusé and her knight.

How Gawain fought with and overcame the Turkowit, and how he was
urged by Orgelusé's mockery to the venture of the Perilous Ford.
How he plucked a bough from a tree guarded by King Gramoflanz,
        and
was challenged by that monarch to single combat. Of the
        repentance
of Orgelusé, and her reconciliation with Gawain, and how both
        were
welcomed by the dwellers in Château Merveil. How Gawain secretly
        sent a
squire to the court of King Arthur bidding him, his knights and
        ladies,
to Ioflanz to witness the combat between Gawain and Gramoflanz.

                                BOOK XII

                                EIDEGAST

    Now he who his rest had broken, if rest he perchance might
        win,
    Methinks they who hear the story had counted it him for sin.
    For, e'en as the venture telleth, sore toil had the hero
        known,
    And in sooth did he face such peril that his fame thro' all
        lands hath flown.
    Lancelot on the sword-bridge battled, and Meljakanz must sue
        for grace,                                                     5
    Yet as naught was I ween his danger to the woe that Gawain
        must face.
    And that which is told of Garel, the valiant and knightly
        king,
    Who o'erthrew the lion 'fore the palace and made Nantes with
        his daring ring--
    And he sought the knife too, Garel, but he paid for his deed
        full dear
    In the pillar of marble--greater was the venture ye read of
        here!                                                         10
    For the darts that were shot against Gawain, as his manly
        courage bade,
    For a mule were too great a burden if they all on its back
        were laid!
    The Perilous Ford hath its dangers; and Erec must sorrow
        know,
    When for Schoie-de-la-kurt he battled, and Mabonagrein would
        fain lay low,
    Yet ne'er had he faced such peril as fell here to knight
        Gawain.                                                       15
    Nor Iwein, the gallant hero, who water would pour amain,
    Nor feared of the stone the venture--Were these perils all
        knit in one,
    He who knoweth to measure danger saith Gawain greater deeds
        had done!

    What peril is this I tell of? If ye will, I the woe will
        name,
    Or too early perchance the telling? Swift-foot Orgelusé came,     20
    And straight to the heart of the hero hath she taken her
        silent way,
    That heart that hath ne'er known trembling, that courage hath
        ruled alway.
    And how came it so stately lady might hide in so small a
        space?
    For narrow I ween was the pathway that led to her
        resting-place.
    And all sorrow he knew aforetime was as nought to this bitter
        woe,                                                          25
    And a low wall it was that hid her when his heart did her
        presence know
    In whose service he never faltered, but was watchful as he
        was true.
    Nor find ye here food for laughter, that one who ne'er terror
        knew,
    A hero so brave in battle, should yield to a woman's hand.
    Alas! woe is me for the marvel that no man may understand!        30
    And Frau Minne she waxeth wrathful 'gainst him who the prize
        hath won,
    Yet dauntless and brave hath she found him, and shall find
        him, till life be done.
    Who harm on a wounded foeman shall work doth his honour
        stain,
    Yet in strength 'gainst his will did Love bind him, and it
        turnèd to him for gain.

    Frau Minne, wouldst have men praise thee? Then this will I
        say to thee,                                                  35
    This strife shall be not to thine honour, since sore wounded
        Gawain shall be.
    And ever throughout his life-days has he lived as thou didst
        command,
    And he followed in this his father, and the men of his
        mother's land.
    For they yielded thee loyal service since the days Mazadan
        was king,
    Who Terre-de-la-Schoie from Fay-Morgan in thy service did
        gallant bring.                                                40
    And this do men tell of his children, no man from his fealty
        fell.
    And Ither of Gaheviess bare it, thy badge, and he served thee
        well;
    And never in woman's presence did one speak of the hero's
        name
    But their hearts yearned in love towards him, and they spake
        it, nor thought it shame,
    How then when they looked upon him? Then the tale first was
        told aright!                                                  45
    Frau Minne, a faithful servant didst thou lose in that
        gallant knight!

    Slay Gawain if thou wilt, as his cousin Ilinot by thine hand
        was slain,
    Since thy power with the bitter torment of desire did the
        knight constrain,
    Till he strove for the love of his lady all the days of his
        fair young life,
    Florie of Kanedig was she, and he served her in many a
        strife.                                                       50
    And he fled from the land of his fathers in the days of his
        youth's unrest,
    And was reared by this queen, and Britain ne'er saw him but
        as a guest.
    And the burden of Love weighed on him, and from Florie's land
        he fled,
    Till the day that in true love's service, as I told ye, men
        found him dead.
    And often the kin of Gawain thro' love have known sorrow
        sore,                                                         55
    And of those by Frau Minne wounded could I name to ye many
        more.
    And why did the snow and the blood-drops move Parzival's
        faithful heart?
    'Twas his _wife_ wrought the spell, I think me! Yea, others
        have known thine art,
    Galoes and Gamuret hast thou vanquished, and in sooth hast
        thou laid them low,
    And the twain for their true love's guerdon must the death of
        a hero know.                                                  60
    And Itonjé, Gawain's fair sister, must love Gramoflanz the
        king,
    And grieve for her love; and sorrow, Frau Minne, thou once
        didst bring
    On fair Surdamur and her lover: since thou sufferest not
        Gawain's kin
    To seek them another service, so on him wouldst thou honour
        win!

    Be mighty towards the mighty but here let Gawain go free,         65
    His wounds they so sorely pain him, and the hale should thy
        foemen be!
    But many have sung of love's working who never so knew love's
        power,
    For myself, I would hold me silent--But true lovers shall
        mourn this hour
    What chanced unto him of Norway, for the venture he faced
        right well,
    And now, without help or warning, love's tempest upon him
        fell!                                                         70

    Quoth the hero, 'Alas, for restless my resting-place shall
        be,
    One couch did so sorely wound me, and the other hath brought
        to me
    Sore torment of love and longing! Orgelusé must favour show
    Unto me her true knight and servant, or small joy shall my
        life-days know!'
    As unresting he turned, and he stretched him, the bands from
        his wounds were torn,                                         75
    So restless he lay and wakeful awaited the coming morn.
    And at last the day shone on him, and many a battlefield
    And sword-strife more rest had brought him than the rest
        which his couch might yield.

    Would one liken his woe unto Gawain's, and be e'en such a
        lover true,
    Of his love-wounds let him be healèd, and then smitten by
        darts anew,                                                   80
    And methinks he shall find that the sorrow and torment shall
        vex him more
    Than all the sum of the sorrow he hath borne for love's sake
        before!

    Nor love's torments alone vexed Gawain--Ever clearer it grew,
        the light,
    Till dark seemed the lofty tapers that erstwhile had shone so
        bright.
    Then up sprang from his couch the hero, and as blood, and as
        iron, red                                                     85
    With wounds, and with rust, was his linen, yet beside him he
        saw outspread
    Hosen and shirt of woollen, and the change pleased our hero