"Please to call back this—offspring of the skies!22
Unworthy I to be his earthly rest!"
"Methought," said Merlin, "that thy King's emprize
Had found in thine a less reluctant breast;
Again is friendship granted to his side—
Thee the bird summons, be the bird thy guide."
Dumb stared the knight—stared first upon the seer,23
Then on the raven,—who, demure and sly,
Turn'd on his master a respectful ear,
And on Gawaine a magisterial eye.
"What hath a king with ravens, seer, to do?"
"Odin, the king of half the world, had two.
"Peace—if thy friendship answer to its boast,24
Arm, take thy steed and with the dawn depart—
The bird will lead thee to the ocean coast;
Strange are thy trials, stalwart be thy heart."
"Seer," quoth Gawaine, "my heart I hope is tough
Nor needs a prop from this portentous chough.
"You know the proverb—'birds of the same feather,'25
A proverb much enforced in penal laws,[2]—
In certain quarters were we seen together
It might, I fear, suffice to damn my cause:
You cite examples apt and edifying—
Odin kept ravens!—well, and Odin's frying!"
The enchanter smiled, in pity or in scorn;26
The smile was sad, but lofty, calm, and cold—
"The straws," he said, "on passing winds upborne
Dismay the courser—is the man more bold?
Dismiss thy terrors, go thy ways, my son,
To do thy duty is the fiend to shun.
"Not for thy sake the bird is given to thee,27
But for thy King's."—"Enough," replied the knight,
And bow'd his head. The bird rose jocundly,
Spread its dark wing and rested in the light—
"Sir Bard," to Caradoc the chosen said
In the close whisper of a knight well bred:
"Vow'd to my King—come man, come fiend, I go,28
But ne'er expect to see thy friend again,
That bird carnivorous hath designs I know
Most Anthropophagous on doom'd Gawaine;
I leave you all the goods that most I prize—
Three steeds, six hawks, four gre-hounds, two blue eyes.
"Beat back the Saxons—beat them well, my friend,29
And when they're beaten, and your hands at leisure,
Set to your harp a ditty on my end—
The most appropriate were the shortest measure:
Forewarn'd by me all light discourses shun,
And mostly—jests on Adam's second son."
He said, and wended down the glowing hill.30
Long watch'd the minstrel with a wistful gaze,
Then join'd the musing seer—and both were still,
Still 'mid the ruins—girded with the rays:
Twin heirs of light and lords of time, grey Truth
That ne'er is young—and Song the only youth.
At dawn Sir Gawaine through the postern stole,31
But first he sought one reverend friend—a bishop,
By him assoil'd and shrived, he felt his soul
Too clean for cooks that fry for fiends to dish up;
And then suggested, lighter and elater,
To cross the raven with some holy water.