"But, pray you pardon (sir, a slice of boar),52
Judged by your accent, mantles, beards, and wine,
(If wine this be) ye come from Huerdan's[4] shore,
To aid, no doubt, our kindred Celtic line;
Ye saw the watch-fires on our hills at night
And march to Carduel? read I, sirs, aright?"
"Stranger," replied the host, "your guess is wrong,53
And shows your lack of history and reflection;
Huerdan with Cymri is allied too long,
We come, my friend, to sever the connection:
But first (your bees are wonderful for honey),
Yield us your hives—in plainer words your money."
"Friend," said the golden-tongued Gawaine, "methought54
Your mines were rich in wealthier ore than ours."
"True," said the host, superbly, "were they wrought!
But shall Milesians waste in work their powers?
Base was that thought, the heartless insult masking,"
"Faith," said Gawaine, "gold's easier got by asking."
Upsprung the host, upsprung the guests in ire—55
Unsprung the gentle dames, and fled affrighted;
High rose the din, than all the din rose higher
The croak of that curs'd raven quite delighted;
Sir Gawaine finish'd his last slice of boar,
And said, "Good friends, more business and less roar.
"If you want peace—shake hands, and peace, I say,56
If you want fighting, gramercy! we'll fight."
"Ho," cried the host, "your dinner you must pay—
The two conditions."—"Host, you're in the right,
To fight I'm willing, but to wed I'm loth:
I choose the first."—"Your word is bound to both:
"Me first engaged, if conquer'd you are—dead,57
And then alone your honour is acquitted:
But conquer me, and then you must be wed;
You ate!—the contract in that act admitted."
"Host," cried the knight, half-stunn'd by all the clatter,
"I only said I would discuss the matter.
"But if your faith upon my word reposed,58
That thought alone King Arthur's knight shall bind."
Few moments more, and host and guest had closed—
For blows come quick when folks are so inclined:
They foin'd, they fenced, changed play, and hack'd, and hew'd—
Paused, panted, eyed each other and renew'd;
At length a dexterous and back-handed blow59
Clove the host's casque and bow'd him to his knee.
"Host," said the Cymrian to his fallen foe;
"But for thy dinner wolves should dine on thee;
Yield—thou bleed'st badly—yield and ask thy life."
"Content," the host replied—"embrace thy wife!"
"O cursed bird," cried Gawaine, with a groan,60
"To what fell trap my wretched feet were carried!
My darkest dreams had ne'er this fate foreshown—
I sate to dine, I rise—and I am married!
O worse than Esau, miserable elf,
He sold his birthright—but he kept himself."
While thus in doleful and heart-rending strain61
Mourn'd the lost knight, the host his daughter led,
Placed her soft hand in that of sad Gawaine—
"Joy be with both!"—the bridegroom shook his head!
"I have a castle which I won by force—
Mount, happy man, for thither wends our course: