On he rode, to succour bound,
But his faith grew dim;
Wells for thirst he many found,
Water none for him.
Never more from drinking deep
Rose he up and laughed;
Never more did prayerful sleep
Follow on the draught.
Good the water which they bore,
Plenteously it flowed,
Quenched his thirst, but, ah, no more
Eased his bosom's load!
For the Best no more he sighed;
Rode as in a trance;
Life grew poor, undignified,
And he spake of chance.
Then he dreamed through Jesus' hand
That he drove a nail—
Woke and cried, "Through every land,
Lord, I seek thy Grail!"
V.
That sir Galahad found the Grail.
Up the quest again he took,
Rode through wood and wave;
Sought in many a mossy nook,
Many a hermit-cave;
Sought until the evening red
Sunk in shadow deep;
Sought until the moonlight fled;
Slept, and sought in sleep.
Where he wandered, seeking, sad,
Story doth not say,
But at length sir Galahad
Found it on a day;