Nay--like enow:why then,far be it from me To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves!
And,damsel,for I deem you know full well Where your great knight is hidden,let me leave My quest with you;the diamond also:here!
For if you love,it will be sweet to give it;And if he love,it will be sweet to have it From your own hand;and whether he love or not,A diamond is a diamond.Fare you well A thousand times!--a thousand times farewell!
Yet,if he love,and his love hold,we two May meet at court hereafter:there,I think,So ye will learn the courtesies of the court,We two shall know each other.'
Then he gave,And slightly kissed the hand to which he gave,The diamond,and all wearied of the quest Leapt on his horse,and carolling as he went A true-love ballad,lightly rode away.
Thence to the court he past;there told the King What the King knew,'Sir Lancelot is the knight.'
And added,'Sire,my liege,so much I learnt;But failed to find him,though I rode all round The region:but I lighted on the maid Whose sleeve he wore;she loves him;and to her,Deeming our courtesy is the truest law,I gave the diamond:she will render it;For by mine head she knows his hiding-place.'
The seldom-frowning King frowned,and replied,'Too courteous truly!ye shall go no more On quest of mine,seeing that ye forget Obedience is the courtesy due to kings.'
He spake and parted.Wroth,but all in awe,For twenty strokes of the blood,without a word,Lingered that other,staring after him;Then shook his hair,strode off,and buzzed abroad About the maid of Astolat,and her love.
All ears were pricked at once,all tongues were loosed:
'The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot,Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat.'
Some read the King's face,some the Queen's,and all Had marvel what the maid might be,but most Predoomed her as unworthy.One old dame Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp news.
She,that had heard the noise of it before,But sorrowing Lancelot should have stooped so low,Marred her friend's aim with pale tranquillity.
So ran the tale like fire about the court,Fire in dry stubble a nine-days'wonder flared:
Till even the knights at banquet twice or thrice Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen,And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid Smiled at each other,while the Queen,who sat With lips severely placid,felt the knot Climb in her throat,and with her feet unseen Crushed the wild passion out against the floor Beneath the banquet,where all the meats became As wormwood,and she hated all who pledged.
But far away the maid in Astolat,Her guiltless rival,she that ever kept The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her heart,Crept to her father,while he mused alone,Sat on his knee,stroked his gray face and said,'Father,you call me wilful,and the fault Is yours who let me have my will,and now,Sweet father,will you let me lose my wits?'
'Nay,'said he,'surely.''Wherefore,let me hence,'
She answered,'and find out our dear Lavaine.'
'Ye will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine:
Bide,'answered he:'we needs must hear anon Of him,and of that other.''Ay,'she said,'And of that other,for I needs must hence And find that other,wheresoe'er he be,And with mine own hand give his diamond to him,Lest I be found as faithless in the quest As yon proud Prince who left the quest to me.
Sweet father,I behold him in my dreams Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself,Death-pale,for lack of gentle maiden's aid.
The gentler-born the maiden,the more bound,My father,to be sweet and serviceable To noble knights in sickness,as ye know When these have worn their tokens:let me hence 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--Nay,I mean nothing:so then,get you gone,Being so very wilful you must go.'
Lightly,her suit allowed,she slipt away,And while she made her ready for her ride,Her father's latest word hummed in her ear,'Being so very wilful you must go,'
And changed itself and echoed in her heart,'Being so very wilful you must die.'
But she was happy enough and shook it off,As we shake off the bee that buzzes at us;And in her heart she answered it and said,'What matter,so I help him back to life?'
Then far away with good Sir Torre for guide Rode o'er the long backs of the bushless downs To Camelot,and before the city-gates Came on her brother with a happy face Making a roan horse caper and curvet For pleasure all about a field of flowers:
Whom when she saw,'Lavaine,'she cried,'Lavaine,How fares my lord Sir Lancelot?'He amazed,'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 turned Sir Torre,and being in his moods Left them,and under the strange-statued gate,Where Arthur's wars were rendered 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 casque Of Lancelot on the wall:her scarlet sleeve,Though carved and cut,and half the pearls away,Streamed from it still;and in her heart she laughed,Because he had not loosed it from his helm,But meant once more perchance to tourney in it.
And when they gained the cell wherein he slept,His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands Lay naked on the wolfskin,and a dream Of dragging down his enemy made them move.
Then she that saw him lying unsleek,unshorn,Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself,Uttered a little tender dolorous cry.
The sound not wonted in a place so still Woke the sick knight,and while he rolled his eyes Yet blank from sleep,she started to him,saying,'Your prize the diamond sent you by the King:'
His eyes glistened:she fancied 'Is it for me?'
