Hear me--this morn I stood in Arthur's hall,And prayed the King would grant me Lancelot To fight the brotherhood of Day and Night--The last a monster unsubduable Of any save of him for whom I called--Suddenly bawls this frontless kitchen-knave,"The quest is mine;thy kitchen-knave am I,And mighty through thy meats and drinks am I."Then Arthur all at once gone mad replies,"Go therefore,"and so gives the quest to him--Him--here--a villain fitter to stick swine Than ride abroad redressing women's wrong,Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman.'
Then half-ashamed and part-amazed,the lord Now looked at one and now at other,left The damsel by the peacock in his pride,And,seating Gareth at another board,Sat down beside him,ate and then began.
'Friend,whether thou be kitchen-knave,or not,Or whether it be the maiden's fantasy,And whether she be mad,or else the King,Or both or neither,or thyself be mad,I ask not:but thou strikest a strong stroke,For strong thou art and goodly therewithal,And saver of my life;and therefore now,For here be mighty men to joust with,weigh Whether thou wilt not with thy damsel back To crave again Sir Lancelot of the King.
Thy pardon;I but speak for thine avail,The saver of my life.'
And Gareth said,'Full pardon,but I follow up the quest,Despite of Day and Night and Death and Hell.'
So when,next morn,the lord whose life he saved Had,some brief space,conveyed them on their way And left them with God-speed,Sir Gareth spake,'Lead,and I follow.'Haughtily she replied.
'I fly no more:I allow thee for an hour.
Lion and stout have isled together,knave,In time of flood.Nay,furthermore,methinks Some ruth is mine for thee.Back wilt thou,fool?
For hard by here is one will overthrow And slay thee:then will I to court again,And shame the King for only yielding me My champion from the ashes of his hearth.'
To whom Sir Gareth answered courteously,'Say thou thy say,and I will do my deed.
Allow me for mine hour,and thou wilt find My fortunes all as fair as hers who lay Among the ashes and wedded the King's son.'
Then to the shore of one of those long loops Wherethrough the serpent river coiled,they came.
Rough-thicketed were the banks and steep;the stream Full,narrow;this a bridge of single arc Took at a leap;and on the further side Arose a silk pavilion,gay with gold In streaks and rays,and all Lent-lily in hue,Save that the dome was purple,and above,Crimson,a slender banneret fluttering.
And therebefore the lawless warrior paced Unarmed,and calling,'Damsel,is this he,The champion thou hast brought from Arthur's hall?
For whom we let thee pass.''Nay,nay,'she said,'Sir Morning-Star.The King in utter scorn Of thee and thy much folly hath sent thee here His kitchen-knave:and look thou to thyself:
See that he fall not on thee suddenly,And slay thee unarmed:he is not knight but knave.'
Then at his call,'O daughters of the Dawn,And servants of the Morning-Star,approach,Arm me,'from out the silken curtain-folds Bare-footed and bare-headed three fair girls In gilt and rosy raiment came:their feet In dewy grasses glistened;and the hair All over glanced with dewdrop or with gem Like sparkles in the stone Avanturine.
These armed him in blue arms,and gave a shield Blue also,and thereon the morning star.
And Gareth silent gazed upon the knight,Who stood a moment,ere his horse was brought,Glorying;and in the stream beneath him,shone Immingled with Heaven's azure waveringly,The gay pavilion and the naked feet,His arms,the rosy raiment,and the star.
Then she that watched him,'Wherefore stare ye so?
Thou shakest in thy fear:there yet is time:
Flee down the valley before he get to horse.
Who will cry shame?Thou art not knight but knave.'
Said Gareth,'Damsel,whether knave or knight,Far liefer had I fight a score of times Than hear thee so missay me and revile.
Fair words were best for him who fights for thee;But truly foul are better,for they send That strength of anger through mine arms,I know That I shall overthrow him.'
And he that bore The star,when mounted,cried from o'er the bridge,'A kitchen-knave,and sent in scorn of me!
Such fight not I,but answer scorn with scorn.
For this were shame to do him further wrong Than set him on his feet,and take his horse And arms,and so return him to the King.
Come,therefore,leave thy lady lightly,knave.
Avoid:for it beseemeth not a knave To ride with such a lady.'
'Dog,thou liest.
I spring from loftier lineage than thine own.'
He spake;and all at fiery speed the two Shocked on the central bridge,and either spear Bent but not brake,and either knight at once,Hurled as a stone from out of a catapult Beyond his horse's crupper and the bridge,Fell,as if dead;but quickly rose and drew,And Gareth lashed so fiercely with his brand He drave his enemy backward down the bridge,The damsel crying,'Well-stricken,kitchen-knave!'
Till Gareth's shield was cloven;but one stroke Laid him that clove it grovelling on the ground.
Then cried the fallen,'Take not my life:I yield.'
And Gareth,'So this damsel ask it of me Good--I accord it easily as a grace.'
She reddening,'Insolent scullion:I of thee?
I bound to thee for any favour asked!'
'Then he shall die.'And Gareth there unlaced His helmet as to slay him,but she shrieked,'Be not so hardy,scullion,as to slay One nobler than thyself.''Damsel,thy charge Is an abounding pleasure to me.Knight,Thy life is thine at her command.Arise And quickly pass to Arthur's hall,and say His kitchen-knave hath sent thee.See thou crave His pardon for thy breaking of his laws.
Myself,when I return,will plead for thee.
Thy shield is mine--farewell;and,damsel,thou,Lead,and I follow.'
And fast away she fled.
Then when he came upon her,spake,'Methought,Knave,when I watched thee striking on the bridge The savour of thy kitchen came upon me A little faintlier:but the wind hath changed:
