The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems | Page 6

about from hill to hill; As though she
asked, not with so much surprise
As tired disgust, what made them stand up there So cold and grey.
After, a spasm took Her face, and all her frame, she caught her hair, All

her hair, in both hands, terribly she shook,
And rose till she was sitting in the bed, Set her teeth hard, and shut her
eyes and seem'd As though she would have torn it from her head,
Natheless she dropp'd it, lay down, as she deem'd
It matter'd not whatever she might do: O Lord Christ! pity on her
ghastly face! Those dismal hours while the cloudless blue Drew the sun
higher: He did give her grace;
Because at last she rose up from her bed, And put her raiment on, and
knelt before The blessed rood, and with her dry lips said, Muttering the
words against the marble floor:
'Unless you pardon, what shall I do, Lord, But go to hell? and there see
day by day Foul deed on deed, hear foulest word on word, For ever and
ever, such as on the way
To Camelot I heard once from a churl, That curled me up upon my
jennet's neck With bitter shame; how then, Lord, should I curl For ages
and for ages? dost thou reck
That I am beautiful, Lord, even as you And your dear mother? why did
I forget You were so beautiful, and good, and true, That you loved me
so, Guenevere? O yet
If even I go to hell, I cannot choose But love you, Christ, yea, though I
cannot keep From loving Launcelot; O Christ! must I lose My own
heart's love? see, though I cannot weep,
Yet am I very sorry for my sin; Moreover, Christ, I cannot bear that
hell, I am most fain to love you, and to win A place in heaven some
time: I cannot tell:
Speak to me, Christ! I kiss, kiss, kiss your feet; Ah! now I weep!' The
maid said, 'By the tomb He waiteth for you, lady,' coming fleet, Not
knowing what woe filled up all the room.

So Guenevere rose and went to meet him there, He did not hear her
coming, as he lay On Arthur's head, till some of her long hair Brush'd
on the new-cut stone: 'Well done! to pray
For Arthur, my dear Lord, the greatest king That ever lived.'
'Guenevere! Guenevere! Do you not know me, are you gone mad? fling
Your arms and hair about me, lest I fear
You are not Guenevere, but some other thing.' 'Pray you forgive me,
fair lord Launcelot! I am not mad, but I am sick; they cling, God's
curses, unto such as I am; not
Ever again shall we twine arms and lips.' 'Yea, she is mad: thy heavy
law, O Lord, Is very tight about her now, and grips Her poor heart, so
that no right word
Can reach her mouth; so, Lord, forgive her now, That she not knowing
what she does, being mad, Kills me in this way; Guenevere, bend low
And kiss me once! for God's love kiss me! sad
Though your face is, you look much kinder now; Yea once, once for
the last time kiss me, lest I die.' 'Christ! my hot lips are very near his
brow, Help me to save his soul! Yea, verily,
Across my husband's head, fair Launcelot! Fair serpent mark'd with V
upon the head! This thing we did while yet he was alive, Why not, O
twisting knight, now he is dead?
Yea, shake! shake now and shiver! if you can Remember anything for
agony, Pray you remember how when the wind ran One cool spring
evening through fair aspen-tree,
And elm and oak about the palace there, The king came back from
battle, and I stood To meet him, with my ladies, on the stair, My face
made beautiful with my young blood.'
'Will she lie now, Lord God?' 'Remember too, Wrung heart, how first
before the knights there came A royal bier, hung round with green and

blue, About it shone great tapers with sick flame.
And thereupon Lucius, the Emperor, Lay royal-robed, but stone-cold
now and dead, Not able to hold sword or sceptre more, But not quite
grim; because his cloven head
Bore no marks now of Launcelot's bitter sword, Being by embalmers
deftly solder'd up; So still it seem'd the face of a great lord, Being
mended as a craftsman mends a cup.
Also the heralds sung rejoicingly To their long trumpets; Fallen under
shield, Here lieth Lucius, King of Italy, Slain by Lord Launcelot in
open field.
Thereat the people shouted: Launcelot! And through the spears I saw
you drawing nigh, You and Lord Arthur: nay, I saw you not, But