While thus his grateful thought Sir Gawaine vents,92
He hears, behind, the carle's Stentorian cries;
He turns, he pales, he groans—"The carle repents!
No, by the saints, he keeps her or he dies!"
Here at his stirrups stands the panting wight—
"The lady's hound, restore the hound, sir knight."
"The hound," said Gawaine, much relieved, "what hound?"93
And then perceived he that the dog he fed,
With grateful steps the kindly guest had found,
And there stood faithful.—"Friend," Sir Gawaine said,
"What's just is just! the dog must have his due,
The dame had hers, to choose between the two."
The carle demurr'd; but justice was so clear,94
He'd nought to urge against the equal law;
He calls the hound, the hound disdains to hear,
He nears the hound, the hound expands his jaw;
The fangs were strong and sharp, that jaw within,
The carle drew back—"Sir knight, I fear you win."
"My friend," replies Gawaine, the ever bland,95
"I took thy lesson, in return take mine;
All human ties, alas, are ropes of sand,
My lot to-day, to-morrow may be thine;
But never yet the dog our bounty fed
Betray'd the kindness, or forgot the bread."[5]
With that the courteous hand he gravely waved,96
Nor deem'd it prudent longer to delay;
Tempt not the reflow, from the ebb just saved!
He spurr'd his steed, and vanish'd from the way.
Sure of rebuke, and troubled in his mind,
An alter'd man, the carle his fair rejoin'd,
That day the raven led the knight to dine97
Where merry monks spread no abstemious board;
Dainty the meat, and delicate the wine,
Sir Gawaine felt his sprightlier self restored;
When towards the eve the raven croak'd anew,
And spread the wing for Gawaine to pursue.
With clouded brow the pliant knight obey'd,98
And took his leave and quaff'd his stirrup cup;
And briskly rode he through glen and glade,
Till the fair moon, to speak in prose, was up;
Then to the raven, now familiar grown,
He said—"Friend bird, night's made for sleep, you'll own.
"This oak presents a choice of boughs for you,99
For me a curtain and a grassy mound."
Straight to the oak the obedient raven flew,
And croak'd with merry, yet malignant sound.
The luckless knight thought nothing of the croak,
And laid him down beneath the Fairy's Oak.
Of evil fame was Nannau's antique tree,100
Yet styled "the hollow oak of demon race;"[6]
But blithe Gwyn ab Nudd's elfin family
Were the gay demons of the slander'd place;
And ne'er in scene more elfin, near and far,
On dancing fairies glanced the smiling star.
Whether thy chafing torrents, rock-born Caine,101
Flash through the delicate birch and glossy elm,
Or prison'd Mawddach[7] clangs his triple chain
Of waters, fleeing to the happier realm,
Where his course broad'ning smiles along the land;—
So souls grow tranquil as their thoughts expand.