Now rouse thee, rouse thee, bold Gawaine!
Think of thy Lady's eyes above;
Now rouse thee for thy Queen's sweet sake,
Thou peerless Lancelot of the Lake!
Vain Gawaine's might, and Lancelot's vain!—
They know no Fairy's love.
Before him swells the joyous tromp,
He comes—the victor's wreath is won!
Low to his Queen Sir Elvar kneels,
The helm no more his face conceals;
And one pale form amidst the pomp,
Sobs forth—"My gallant son!"
PART IV.
Sir Elvar is the fairest knight
That ever lured a lady's glance;
Sir Elvar is the wealthiest lord
That sits at good King Arthur's board;
The bravest in the joust or fight,
The lightest in the dance.
And never love, methinks, so blest
As his, this weary world has known;
For, every night before his eyes,
The charms that ne'er can fade arise—
A star unseen by all the rest—
A Life for him alone.
And yet Sir Elvar is not blest—
He walks apart with brows of gloom—
"The meanest knight in Arthur's hall
His lady-love may tell to all;
He shows the flower that glads his breast—
His pride to boast its bloom!
"And I who clasp the fairest form
That e'er to man's embrace was given,
Must hide the gift as if in shame!
What boots a prize we dare not name?
The sun must shine if it would warm—
A cloud is all my heaven!"
Much proud Genevra[C] marvell'd, how
A knight so fair should seem so cold;
What if a love for hope too high,
Has chain'd the lip and awed the eye?
A second joust—and surely now
The secret shall be told.
For, there, alone shall ride the brave
Whose glory dwells in Beauty's fame;
Each, for his lady's honour, arms—
His lance the test of rival charms.
Joy unto him whom Beauty gave
The right to gild her name!
Sir Lancelot burns to win the prize—
First in the Lists his shield is seen;
A sunflower for device he took—
"Where'er thou shinest turns my look."
So as he paced the Lists, his eyes
Still sought the Sun—his Queen!