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sweet are looks that ladies bend

          On whom their favours fall!

        For them I battle till the end,

          To save from shame and thrall:

        But all my heart is drawn above,

          My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:

        I never felt the kiss of love,

          Nor maiden's hand in mine.

        More bounteous aspects on me beam,

          Me mightier transports move and thrill;

        So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer

          A virgin heart in work and will.

        When down the stormy crescent goes,

          A light before me swims,

        Between dark stems the forest glows,

          I hear a noise of hymns:

        Then by some secret shrine I ride;

          I hear a voice but none are there;

        The stalls are void, the doors are wide,

          The tapers burning fair.

        Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,

          The silver vessels sparkle clean,

        The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,

          And solemn chaunts resound between.

        Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres

          I find a magic bark;

        I leap on board: no helmsman steers:

          I float till all is dark.

        A gentle sound, an awful light!

          Three angels bear the Holy Grail:

        With folded feet, in stoles of white,

          On sleeping wings they sail.

        Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!

          My spirit beats her mortal bars,

        As down dark tides the glory slides,

          And star-like mingles with the stars.

        When on my goodly charger borne

          Thro' dreaming towns I go,

        The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,

          The streets are dumb with snow.

        The tempest crackles on the leads,

          And, ringing, spins from brand and mail;

        But o'er the dark a glory spreads,

          And gilds the driving hail.

        I leave the plain, I climb the height;

          No branchy thicket shelter yields;

        But blessed forms in whistling storms

          Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

        A maiden knight—to me is given

          Such hope, I know not fear;

        I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven

          That often meet me here.

        I muse on joy that will not cease,

          Pure spaces clothed in living beams,

        Pure lilies of eternal peace,

          Whose odors haunt my dreams;

        And, stricken by an angel's hand,

          This mortal armour that I wear,

        This weight and size, this heart and eyes,

          Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

        The clouds are broken in the sky,

          And thro' the mountain-walls

        A rolling organ-harmony

          Swells up, and shakes and falls.

        Then move the trees, the copses nod,

          Wings flutter, voices hover clear:

        "O just and faithful knight of God!

          Ride on! the prize is near."

        So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;

          By bridge and ford, by park and pale,

        All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,

          Until I find the Holy Grail.

      CHAPTER V

      RUSTEM AND SOHRAB

      Give ear unto the combat of Sohrab against Rustem, though it be a tale replete with tears.

      It came about that on a certain day Rustem arose from his couch, and his mind was filled with forebodings. He bethought him therefore to go out to the chase. So he saddled Rakush and made ready his quiver with arrows. Then he turned him unto the wilds that lie near Turan, even in the direction of the city of Samengan. And when he was come nigh unto it, he started a herd of asses and made sport among them till that he was weary of the hunt. Then he caught one and slew it and roasted it for his meal, and when he had eaten it and broken the bones for the marrow, he laid himself down to slumber, and Rakush cropped the pasture beside him.

      Now while the hero was sleeping there passed by seven knights of Turan, and they beheld Rakush and coveted him. So they threw their cords at him to ensnare him. But Rakush, when he beheld their design, pawed the ground in anger, and fell upon them as he had fallen upon the lion. And of one man he bit off the head, and another he struck down under his hoofs, and he would have overcome them all, but they were too many. So they ensnared him and led him into the city, thinking in their hearts, "Verily a goodly capture have we made." But Rustem when he awoke from his slumbers was downcast and sore grieved when he saw not his steed, and he said unto himself:

      "How can I stand against the Turks, and how can I traverse the desert alone?"

      And his heart was full of trouble. Then he sought for the traces of the horse's hoofs, and followed them, and they led him even unto the gates of the city. Now when those within beheld Rustem, and that he came before them on foot, the King and the nobles came forth to greet him, and inquired of him how this was come about. Then Rustem told them how Rakush was vanished while he slumbered, and how he had followed his track even unto these gates. And he sware a great oath, and vowed that if his courser were not restored unto him many heads should quit their trunks. Then the King of Samengan, when he saw that Rustem was beside himself with anger, spoke words of soothing, and said that none of his people should do wrong unto the hero; and he begged him that he would enter into his house and abide with him until that search had been made, saying:

      "Surely Rakush cannot be hid."

      And Rustem was satisfied at these words, and cast suspicion from his spirit, and entered the house of the King, and feasted with him, and beguiled the hours with wine. And the King rejoiced in his guest, and encompassed him with sweet singers and all honour. And when the night was fallen the King himself led Rustem unto a couch perfumed with musk and roses, and he bade him slumber sweetly until the morning. And he declared to him yet again that all was well for him and for his steed.

      Now when a portion of the night was spent, and the star of morning stood high in the arch of heaven, the door of Rustem's chamber was opened, and a murmur of soft voices came in from the threshold. And there stepped within a slave bearing a lamp perfumed with amber, and a woman whose beauty was veiled came after her. And as she moved musk was scattered from her robes. And the women came nigh unto the bed of the hero heavy with wine and slumber. And

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