"O Christalan, I would be true," says Greane.
"Well, Greane, you teased me into saying it,
So do not look so scornful! I should die
If I could not exalt my father's name
In valiant deeds of knighthood and of war.
You have to choose, for you are but a girl;
I need not choose, thank God! I will be both."
When the gray morning dawned at Noël-garde,
The Lady Agathar went to her son;
It was the last good-morrow they would say
For many years to come. At the sun's rise
He was to leave his home, to take his way
To the brave knight Sir Kathanal, to whom
Sir Noël, dying, had bade Agathar
Send the young Christalan, in time, to learn
The code of chivalry and knighthood. Back
She drew the curtains of his bed, and watched
Him sleeping, bent and kissed him:
"Christalan,
Awake!" she said, "the day is breaking! Soon
You leave your home where now you rule as lord,
Boy though you are, and go as servitor;
You must fulfil my heart's desire, my son,
And, by God's help, bring answer to my prayers;
You must be true and valiant, Christalan."
"Why, mother mine, is it not wrought in gold
Upon my doublet?"
"Ah, my son," she said,
"It must be wrought upon your heart as well
As on your doublet."
Quick he answered her,
"How can I help be valiant and most true,
With such a father and your peerless self
My mother? No, I will not fail, be sure.
Some day I shall come riding home to you
With honour, prizes, fame, and dignity,
That shall befit my father's noble name,
And all the court as I pass by will cry,
'Sir Christalan, the Valiant and the True!'"
"But, Christalan, first comes a time when you
Must serve, and work, and cheer for other knights;
No knight is fully worthy to command
Until he knows the lesson to obey;
No ruler can be great unless he learns
With dignity to be a servitor.
The least shall be the greatest, the most true
In all things, howe'er small, shall be at last
Most valiant. Will you serve as well, my son,
As now you hope to conquer?"
"Mother mine,
Nothing will be too hard for me, I know,
With knighthood at the end. If that should fail,
I could not bear it! It will come at last!
When I shall hear the cry, that in our play
Sweet Greane is ever calling through the wood,
From all the court, and even from the King,
'Sir Christalan, the Valiant and the True!'"
Eight years had passed. The Lady Agathar,
Unaged, unchanged, in her plain robe of black,
Sat in her tower, watching for her son.
Fair Greane was with her, tall, and full of grace,
Right glad at last that she was born a maid.