He lifts me to the golden doors: Roll back, and far within For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, One sabbath deep and wide SIR GALAHAD. My good blade carves the casques of men, The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, They reel, they roll in clanging lists, And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands. How sweet are looks that ladies bend For them I battle to the end, 16 129 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. n 20 When down the stormy crescent goes, I hear a voice, but none are there; The tapers burning fair. The silver vessels sparkle clean, Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I leap on board: no helmsman steers: A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the Holy Grail: My spirit beats her mortal bars, When on my goodly charger borne 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. 30 50 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 I muse on joy that will not cease, Whose odors haunt my dreams ; 60 This mortal armor that I wear, 70 This weight and size, this heart and eyes, The clouds are broken in the sky, A rolling organ-harmony Swells up, and shakes and falls. 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. 80 |