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that Sir Kay nodded him leave to go,

       Would hurry thither, and when he saw the knights

       Clash like the coming and retiring wave,

       And the spear spring, and good horse reel, the boy

       Was half beyond himself for ecstasy.

      So for a month he wrought among the thralls;

       But in the weeks that followed, the good Queen,

       Repentant of the word she made him swear,

       And saddening in her childless castle, sent,

       Between the increscent and de-crescent moon,

       Arms for her son, and loosed him from his vow.

      This, Gareth hearing from a squire of Lot

       With whom he used to play at tourney once,

       When both were children, and in lonely haunts

       Would scratch a ragged oval on the sand,

       And each at either dash from either end —

       Shame never made girl redder than Gareth joy.

       He laughed; he sprang. ‘Out of the smoke, at once

       I leap from Satan’s foot to Peter’s knee —

       These news be mine, none other’s — nay, the King’s —

       Descend into the city:’ whereon he sought

       The King alone, and found, and told him all.

      ‘I have staggered thy strong Gawain in a tilt

       For pastime; yea, he said it: joust can I.

       Make me thy knight — in secret! let my name

       Be hidden, and give me the first quest, I spring

       Like flame from ashes.’

      Here the King’s calm eye

       Fell on, and checked, and made him flush, and bow

       Lowly, to kiss his hand, who answered him,

       ‘Son, the good mother let me know thee here,

       And sent her wish that I would yield thee thine.

       Make thee my knight? my knights are sworn to vows

       Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness,

       And, loving, utter faithfulness in love,

       And uttermost obedience to the King.’

      Then Gareth, lightly springing from his knees,

       ‘My King, for hardihood I can promise thee.

       For uttermost obedience make demand

       Of whom ye gave me to, the Seneschal,

       No mellow master of the meats and drinks!

       And as for love, God wot, I love not yet,

       But love I shall, God willing.’

      And the King

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

       Our noblest brother, and our truest man,

       And one with me in all, he needs must know.’

      ‘Let Lancelot know, my King, let Lancelot know,

       Thy noblest and thy truest!’

      And the King —

       ‘But wherefore would ye men should wonder at you?

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

       And the deed’s sake my knighthood do the deed,

       Than to be noised of.’

      Merrily Gareth asked,

       ‘Have I not earned my cake in baking of it?

       Let be my name until I make my name!

       My deeds will speak: it is but for a day.’

       So with a kindly hand on Gareth’s arm

       Smiled the great King, and half-unwillingly

       Loving his lusty youthhood yielded to him.

       Then, after summoning Lancelot privily,

       ‘I have given him the first quest: he is not proven.

       Look therefore when he calls for this in hall,

       Thou get to horse and follow him far away.

       Cover the lions on thy shield, and see

       Far as thou mayest, he be nor ta’en nor slain.’

      Then that same day there past into the hall

       A damsel of high lineage, and a brow

       May-blossom, and a cheek of apple-blossom,

       Hawk-eyes; and lightly was her slender nose

       Tip-tilted like the petal of a flower;

       She into hall past with her page and cried,

      ‘O King, for thou hast driven the foe without,

       See to the foe within! bridge, ford, beset

       By bandits, everyone that owns a tower

       The Lord for half a league. Why sit ye there?

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

       Till even the lonest hold were all as free

       From cursed bloodshed, as thine altar-cloth

       From that best blood it is a sin to spill.’

      ‘Comfort thyself,’ said Arthur. ‘I nor mine

       Rest: so my knighthood keep the vows they swore,

       The wastest moorland of our realm shall be

       Safe, damsel, as the centre of this hall.

       What is thy name? thy need?’

      ‘My name?’ she said —

       ‘Lynette my name; noble; my need, a knight

       To combat for my sister, Lyonors,

       A lady of high lineage, of great lands,

       And comely, yea, and comelier than myself.

       She lives in Castle Perilous: a river

       Runs in three loops about her living-place;

       And o’er it are three passings, and three knights

       Defend the passings, brethren, and a fourth

       And of that four the mightiest, holds her stayed

       In her own castle, and so besieges her

       To break her will, and make her wed with him:

       And but delays his purport till thou send

       To do the battle with him, thy chief man

       Sir Lancelot whom he trusts to overthrow,

       Then wed, with glory: but she will not wed

       Save whom she loveth, or a holy life.

       Now therefore have I come for Lancelot.’

      Then Arthur mindful of Sir Gareth asked,

       ‘Damsel, ye know this Order lives to crush

       All wrongers of the Realm. But say, these four,

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

      ‘They be of foolish fashion, O Sir King,

       The fashion of that old knight-errantry

       Who ride abroad, and do but what they will;

       Courteous or bestial from the moment, such

       As have nor law nor king; and three of these

       Proud in their fantasy call themselves the Day,

       Morning-Star, and Noon-Sun, and Evening-Star,

      

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