The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems | Page 9

knight, and faithful, you have 'scaped the curse In
wonderful-wise; you have great store of bliss.
Yea, what if Father Launcelot ride out, Can he not think of Guenevere's
arms, round Warm and lithe, about his neck, and shout Till all the place
grows joyful with the sound?
And when he lists can often see her face, And think, 'Next month I kiss
you, or next week, And still you think of me': therefore the place

Grows very pleasant, whatsoever he seek.
But me, who ride alone, some carle shall find Dead in my arms in the
half-melted snow, When all unkindly with the shifting wind, The thaw
comes on at Candlemas: I know
Indeed that they will say: 'This Galahad If he had lived had been a right
good knight; Ah! poor chaste body!' but they will be glad, Not most
alone, but all, when in their sight
That very evening in their scarlet sleeves The gay-dress'd minstrels sing;
no maid will talk Of sitting on my tomb, until the leaves, Grown big
upon the bushes of the walk,
East of the Palace-pleasaunce, make it hard To see the minster
therefrom: well-a-day! Before the trees by autumn were well bared, I
saw a damozel with gentle play,
Within that very walk say last farewell To her dear knight, just riding
out to find (Why should I choke to say it?) the Sangreal, And their last
kisses sunk into my mind,
Yea, for she stood lean'd forward on his breast, Rather, scarce stood;
the back of one dear hand, That it might well be kiss'd, she held and
press'd Against his lips; long time they stood there, fann'd
By gentle gusts of quiet frosty wind, Till Mador de la porte a-going by,
And my own horsehoofs roused them; they untwined, And parted like a
dream. In this way I,
With sleepy face bent to the chapel floor, Kept musing half asleep, till
suddenly A sharp bell rang from close beside the door, And I leapt up
when something pass'd me by,
Shrill ringing going with it, still half blind I stagger'd after, a great
sense of awe At every step kept gathering on my mind, Thereat I have
no marvel, for I saw

One sitting on the altar as a throne, Whose face no man could say he
did not know, And though the bell still rang, he sat alone, With raiment
half blood-red, half white as snow.
Right so I fell upon the floor and knelt, Not as one kneels in church
when mass is said, But in a heap, quite nerveless, for I felt The first
time what a thing was perfect dread.
But mightily the gentle voice came down: 'Rise up, and look and listen,
Galahad, Good knight of God, for you will see no frown Upon my face;
I come to make you glad.
For that you say that you are all alone, I will be with you always, and
fear not You are uncared for, though no maiden moan Above your
empty tomb; for Launcelot,
He in good time shall be my servant too, Meantime, take note whose
sword first made him knight, And who has loved him alway, yea, and
who Still trusts him alway, though in all men's sight,
He is just what you know, O Galahad, This love is happy even as you
say, But would you for a little time be glad, To make ME sorry long,
day after day?
Her warm arms round his neck half throttle ME, The hot love-tears
burn deep like spots of lead, Yea, and the years pass quick: right
dismally Will Launcelot at one time hang his head;
Yea, old and shrivell'd he shall win my love. Poor Palomydes fretting
out his soul! Not always is he able, son, to move His love, and do it
honour: needs must roll
The proudest destrier sometimes in the dust, And then 'tis weary work;
he strives beside Seem better than he is, so that his trust Is always on
what chances may betide;
And so he wears away, my servant, too, When all these things are gone,
and wretchedly He sits and longs to moan for Iseult, who Is no care

now to Palomydes: see,
O good son Galahad, upon this day, Now even, all these things are on
your side, But these you fight not for; look up, I say, And see how I can
love you, for no pride
Closes your eyes, no vain lust keeps them down. See now you have ME
always; following That holy vision, Galahad, go on, Until at last you
come to ME to sing
In Heaven always, and to walk around The garden where I am.' He
ceased, my face And wretched body fell upon the ground; And when I
look'd again,