Rode with his diamond, wearied of the quest, Touch'd at all points except the poplar grove, And came at last, tho' late, to Astolat; Whom glittering in enamell'd arms the maid Glanced at, and cried, 'What news from Camelot, lord? What of the knight with the red sleeve?' 'He won.' 'I knew it,' she said. 'But parted from the jousts Hurt in the side;' whereat she caught her breath. Thro' her own side she felt the sharp lance go. 620 Thereon she smote her hand; wellnigh she swoon'd. And, while he gazed wonderingly at her, 660 Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh, and mock'd: 'Right was the King! our Lancelot! that true man!' 'And right was I,' she answer'd merrily, Who dream'd my knight the greatest knight of all.' 'And if I dream'd,' said Gawain,' that you love This greatest knight, your pardon ! lo, ye know it! Speak therefore; shall I waste myself in vain ?' Full simple was her answer: 'What know I? My brethren have been all my fellowship; And I, when often they have talk'd of love, Wish'd it had been my mother, for they talk'd, 670 Meseem'd, of what they knew not; so myself I know not if I know what true love is, But if I know, then, if I love not him, I know there is none other I can love.' awe, of For twenty strokes of the blood, without a word, Linger'd that other, staring after him; Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd abroad About the maid of Astolat, and her love. All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were loosed: 'The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat.' 721 Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, and all Had marvel what the maid might be, but most Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old dame Came suddenly on the Queen with the The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound, My father, to be sweet and serviceable I pray you.' Then her father nodding said: Ay, ay, the diamond. Wit ye well, my child, Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole, Being our greatest. Yea, and you must give it And sure I think this fruit is hung too high For any mouth to gape for save a queen's 770 Nay, I mean nothing; so then, get you gone, Being so very wilful you must go.' Lightly, her suit allow'd, she slipt away, And while she made her ready for her ride Her father's latest word humm'd in her ear, To Camelot, and before the city-gates How fares my lord Sir Lancelot ?' He amazed, 790 'Torre and Elaine ! why here? Sir Lancelot! How know ye my lord's name is Lancelot ?' But when the maid had told him all her tale, Then turn'd Sir Torre, and being in his moods Left them, and under the strange-statued gate, Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically, Past up the still rich city to his kin, His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot; And her, Lavaine across the poplar grove Led to the caves. There first she saw the Far up the dim rich city to her kin; There bode the night, but woke with dawn, and past Down thro' the dim rich city to the fields, Thence to the cave. So day by day she past In either twilight ghost-like to and fro Gliding, and every day she tended him, And likewise many a night; and Lancelot Would, tho' he call'd his wound a little hurt Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times Brain-feverous in his heat and agony, seem Uncourteous, even he. But the meek maid Sweetly forbore him ever, being to him 851 Meeker than any child to a rough nurse, Milder than any mother to a sick child, And never woman yet, since man's first fall, Did kindlier unto man, but her deep love Upbore her; till the hermit, skill'd in all The simples and the science of that time, Told him that her fine care had saved his life. And the sick man forgot her simple blush, Would call her friend and sister, sweet Would listen for her coming and regret Her parting step, and held her tenderly, And loved her with all love except the love Of man and woman when they love their best, Closest and sweetest, and had died the death In any knightly fashion for her sake. Another world for the sick man; but now 871 |
