There was never a leaf on bush or tree, The bare boughs rattled shudderingly;80 The river was numb and could not speak, For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun; A single crow on the tree-top bleak From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun; Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold85 As if her veins were sapless and old, And she rose up decrepitly For a last dim look at earth and sea.
Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, For another heir in his earldom sate;90 An old, bent man, worn out and frail, He came back from seeking the Holy Grail; Little he recked of his earldom's loss, No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, But deep in his soul the sign he wore,95 The badge of the suffering and the poor.
Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare Was idle mail 'gainst the barbed air, For it was just at the Christmas time; So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime,100 And sought for a shelter from cold and snow In the light and warmth of long-ago: He sees the snake-like caravan crawl O'er the edge of the desert, black and small. Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one,105 He can count the camels in the sun, As over the red-hot sands they pass To where, in its slender necklace of grass, The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade, And with its own self like an infant played,110 And waved its signal of palms. "For Christ's sweet sake I beg an alms;"— The happy camels may reach the spring, But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing, The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone,115 That cowers beside him, a thing as lone And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas In the desolate horror of his disease.
And Sir Launfal said, "I behold in thee An image of Him who died on the tree;120 Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns, And to thy life were not denied The wounds in the hands and feet and side: Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me;125 Behold, through him, I give to thee!"
Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he Remembered in what a haughtier guise He had flung an alms to leprosie,130 When he girt his young life up in gilded mail And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. The heart within him was ashes and dust; He parted in twain his single crust, He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink,135 And gave the leper to eat and drink: 'Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 'Twas water out of a wooden bowl,— Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, And 'twas red wine he drank with his thirsty soul.140
As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A light shone round about the place; The leper no longer crouched at his side, But stood before him glorified, Shining and tall and fair and straight145 As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate,— Himself the Gate whereby men can Enter the temple of God in Man.
His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine, And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine,150 Which mingle their softness and quiet in one With the shaggy unrest they float down upon: And the voice that was calmer than silence said: "Lo it is I, be not afraid! In many climes, without avail,155 Thou has spent thy life for the Holy Grail; Behold it is here,—this cup which thou Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now; This crust is my body broken for thee, This water His blood that died on the tree;160 The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need; Not what we give, but what we share,— For the gift without the giver is bare; Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,—165 Himself, his hungering neighbour, and me."
Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound:— "The Grail in my castle here is found! Hang my idle armour up on the wall, Let it be the spider's banquet-hall;170 He must be fenced with stronger mail Who would seek and find the Holy Grail." The castle gate stands open now, And the wanderer is welcome to the hall As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough;175 No longer scowl the turrets tall, The Summer's long siege at last is o'er; When the first poor outcast went in at the door, She entered with him in disguise, And mastered the fortress by surprise;180 There is no spot she loves so well on ground, She lingers and smiles there the whole year round. The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land Has hall and bower at his command; And there's no poor man in the North Countree185 But is lord of the earldom as much as he.
—James Russell Lowell
Preparatory.—Read Tennyson's The Holy Grail.
Compare the mode in which Tennyson treats the pursuit of the Holy Grail, in Sir Galahad, with that adopted by Lowell in this poem.
Show the connection between the fundamental ideas in this poem, and those in Longfellow's King Robert of Sicily and The Legend Beautiful.
Point out the various contrasts (a) of scene, (b) of thought, (c) of emotion, and show a corresponding contrast in vocal expression.
Articulation. (Appendix [A, 1] and [A, 2].)
5 and 6. What is the Inflection?
11. What changes of vocal expression accompany the transition?
14-20. Note the word-pictures and the effect of the Imaging process on the Time.