At first 'twas mov'd, that straight conducted thence,
Some meet confinement should chastise the offence;
When one grave peer, in honest hope to wave
The dire debasement of a youth so brave,
Produc'd this purpose, with such reasoning grac'd,
'Twas with the general plaudit soon embrac'd:
''Twas urg'd,' he said, 'and sure the offence he blam'd,
Their queen by base comparison was sham'd;
That he, the prisoner, with strange fury mov'd,
Had prais'd too proudly the fair dame he lov'd;
First, then, 'twere meet this mistress should be seen
There in full court, and plac'd beside the queen;
So might they judge of passion's mad pretence,
Or truth had wrought the ungrateful preference.'
So spoke the judge; Sir Lanval hears the doom,
And weens his hour of destiny is come;
Quench'd is the lore that erst, in happier day,
Won to his whisper'd prayer the willing fay;
And the last licence pitying laws devise,
Serves but to close the count of miseries!
When, lo! strange shouts of joy and clamourous cheers,
Rose from without, and stay'd the astonish'd peers:
At hand two damsels entering in were seen,
Lovely alike their look, and noble was their mien;
On a grey dappled steed each lady rode,
That pac'd for pride, as conscious of his load;
'Lo here!' 'twas murmured round with new delight,
'Lo here, the mistress of the Breton knight!'
The twain meanwhile pass'd onward undelay'd,
And to the king their graceful greetings paid,
Then told their lady's coming, and desir'd
Such harbourage as highest rank requir'd.
E'en as they spoke, twain others, lovelier fair,
Of stature loftier, of more royal air,
Came proudly on: of gold their purfled vest,
Well shap'd, each symmetry of limb confess'd:
On goodly mules from farthest Spain they brought,
This pair the presence of the sovereign sought.
The impatient king, ere well their lips had power,
To claim fit harbourage of board and bower,
Led on their way; and, court'sies scantly done,
Back to the peers be sped, and press'd the judgment on;
For much, meseems, his vengeful heart misgave
Some thwarting chance the Breton knight might save.
Just were his boding fears: new shouts ascend
Of loud acclaim; and wide the welkin rend.
A female form the wondering peers behold,
Too bright for mixture of earth's mortal mould:
The gridelin pall that down her shoulders flow'd
Half veil'd her snow-white courser as she rode;
On her fair hand a sparrow-hawk was plac'd,
Her steed's sure steps a following grey-hound trac'd
And, as she pass'd, still pressing to the right
Female and male, and citizen and knight,
What wight soe'er in Carduel's walls was found,
Swell'd the full quire, and spread the joy around.
Lanval, the while, apart from all the rest,
Sat sadly waiting for his doom unbless'd:
(Not that he fear'd to die: death rather sued;
For life was nought, despoil'd of all its good:)
To his dull ears his hastening friends proclaim
The fancied form and presence of his dame;
Feebly he rais'd his head: and, at the sight,
In a strange extacy of wild delight,
''Tis she! 'tis she!' was all his faultering cry,
'I see her once again now satisfied I die!'
Thus while he spake, the peers with seemly state.
Led by their king, the illustrious stranger wait;
Proud Carduel's palace hail'd its princely guest,
And thus the dame the assembled court address'd.
'List, king, and barons!—Arthur, I have lov'd
A knight most loyal in thy service prov'd;
Him, by thy foul neglect, reduc'd to need,
These hands did recompense; they did thy deed.
He disobey's me; I forbore to save;
I left him at the portal of the grave:
Firm loyalty hath well that breach repair'd—
He loves me still, nor shall he lack reward.
'Barons! your court its judgment did decree,
Quittance or death, your queen compar'd with me:
Behold the mistress of the knight is come,
Now judge between us? and pronounce the doom.'
All cry aloud, the words of love were right,
And one united voice acquits the knight.
Back from the palace turns the parting fay,
And with her beauteous damsels speeds away:
Her, as she pass'd the enraptur'd Lanval view'd;
High on the portal's marble steps he stood;
On his tall steed he sprang with vigorous bound;
Thenceforth their footsteps never wight hath found.
But 'tis the Breton tale, they both are gone
To the fair isle of fertile Avalon;
There, in the lap of love for ever laid,
By sorrow unassail'd, in bliss embay'd,
They make their won: for me, where'er they dwell,
No farther tale befalls me here to tell.