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PARZIVAL
VOL. II

[PARZIVAL]

A KNIGHTLY EPIC

BY

WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH

TRANSLATED BY

JESSIE L. WESTON

VOL. II

ANASTATIC REPRINT OF THE EDITION LONDON 1894.

NEW YORK

G. E. STECHERT & CO.,

1912.

CONTENTS

BOOK X
ORGELUSE

ARGUMENT

Book X. relates how Gawain, after various adventures, fell in with a maiden and a wounded knight, how he succoured the knight and rode to Logrois. How he met with Orgelusé and wooed her, and how she repaid him with scorn. How the squire Malcréature mocked Sir Gawain, and how the knight Urian stole his charger. How Lischois Giwellius fought with Gawain and was conquered, and of the tribute due to the Master Boatman. How Gawain came to Terre de Merveil, and was well entreated by the Boatman and his daughter Bené.

BOOK X

ORGELUSE

Now tell we of strange adventures thro' which joy shall be waxen low,
And yet pride shall grow the greater, of the twain doth this story show.

Now the year of truce was ended, when the strife must needs be fought
Which the Landgrave unto King Arthur at Plimizöl had brought.
At Schamfanzon he challenged Gawain to meet him at Barbigöl, 5
Yet still unavenged was Kingrisein at the hand of Kingrimursel—
In sooth, Vergulacht, he rode there, and thither had come Gawain,
And the whole world was 'ware of their kinship nor might strife be betwixt the twain;
For the murder, Count Eckunât did it, and Gawain must they guiltless hold,
At rest did they lay their quarrel and friends were those heroes bold. 10

Then they parted for both would ride thence, Vergulacht and the knight Gawain,
Tho' both for the Grail were seeking yet apart would they ride, those twain.
And many a joust must they ride now, for he who the Grail would see
Sword in hand must he draw anigh it, and swift must his seeking be!

Now all that befell to Gawain, the lot of that blameless knight 15
Since he rode forth from fair Schamfanzon, if he oft on his way must fight,
Ye shall ask of those who there saw him, since naught may I tell ye here,
Yet hearken, and heed the story and the venture that draweth near.
One morning Gawain rode gaily o'er a grassy plain and green,
When a shield, in the sun fair shining, with lance-thrust pierced thro' was seen, 20
And a charger stood beside it that bare women's riding-gear,
And the bridle and aye the housing were of costly stuff and dear—
And the charger and shield beside it were bound to a linden tree.
Then he thought, 'Who shall be this woman? for valiant I ween is she,
Since she beareth a shield so knightly—If she thinketh with me to fight, 25
How, then, may I best withstand her? Were it better to here alight?
If too long she wrestle with me perchance I were overthrown,
If hatred or love I shall win here I will fight her on foot alone;
Yea, e'en an she were Kamilla, who before Laurentium fought—
Did she live still to battle with me, as awhile she for honour sought, 30
I would face her, nor fear her prowess, if here she my foe would be,
Tho' ne'er with a maid have I foughten and the chance seemeth ill to me!'

Battle-hewn was the shield and dinted, as Gawain right well espied
The nearer he rode unto it, and pierced with a lance-thrust wide.
Such token by joust is painted, little payment his skill should know 35
Whose hand erst the shield had fashioned an he thought him to paint it so!
By the trunk of the mighty linden sat a maid on the grass so green,
And sore did she weep and bewail her, and joyless, I wot, her mien.
Then around the tree rode Gawain, and lo! on her knee she bore
A knight, and she wept above him, and grieved with a sorrow sore. 40

Fair greeting Sir Gawain proffered, she thanked him and bowed her low,
And hoarse was her voice thro' weeping and weakened thro' force of woe.
Then down to the ground sprang Gawain, for the knight he was like to choke,
Since the blood welled within his body, and unto the maid he spoke,
And he asked if the knight were living, or should now in the death-throe be? 45
And she spake, 'He dieth surely, yet but now alive was he,
God hath sent thee unto my succour, now help me with word and deed,
Such wounds shalt thou oft have looked on, give counsel in this my need!'

'Yea, gladly I'll aid thee, Lady, from death shall thy knight be freed,
And healing I well might win him an there were but at hand a reed. 50
Thou shalt see him, and hearken to him, nor his life shall be waxen less,
The wound is not all too dangerous, but the blood on his heart doth press.'
Then he stripped from a bough of the linden the bark, and did wind it round,
(No fool he in art of healing,) and he set it unto the wound,
And he bade the maiden suck it till the blood should toward her flow— 55
And strength came again and hearing, and the voice of the knight they know,
And he looked on Gawain, and he thanked him, and said he should honoured be
In that from his woe he had freed him, and he asked of him, whence came he?
Rode he hither in search of knighthood? 'From far Punturtois I came
In search of such knightly venture as should win for me meed of fame, 60
Yet sorely must I bewail me for the ill that I here have won,
Sir Knight, an thy senses fail not, 'twere better this way to shun!'

'Such evil I little looked for—'Twas Lischois Giwellius
Who hath wounded me so sorely, and down from my charger thrust:
Fair was the joust and knightly, and he pierced me thro' shield and side, 65
On her steed this maiden helped me, and hither hath been my guide!'
Then he prayed Gawain to abide there, but he spake, he the place would see
Where such evil had chanced unto him, 'If Logrois thus near shall be,
Perchance I shall yet o'ertake him, he shall answer to me, I trow,
For the deed he hath done, and his reason for vengeance on thee I'll know!' 70
But the wounded knight spake, 'Not so, for true are the words I say,
And no child's play shall be this journey, great perils beset the way.'

With the band from the maiden's tresses Gawain the wound did bind,
And spake o'er it spells of healing, and he bade them their comfort find
In God, since He cares for all men—With blood was their pathway red, 75
And crimson the grass besprinkled as a stag had its life-blood shed;
Thus he rode not astray, and in short space did Logrois before him stand—
A fortress so fair and stately, its praise was in every land.

'Twas a stately Burg well builded, and it wound the hillside round,
From afar as a mighty circlet the fortress the summit crowned. 80
E'en to-day men this honour give it, its wall shall be stormed in vain,
For it openeth its gates to no foeman, whose hatred soe'er it gain!
And a garden lay green around it, 'twas planted with trees so fair,
Olive, pomegranate, fig-tree, and the vine which its grapes doth bear,
And gaily they grew and flourished—as Gawain rode that garden bright 85
He saw there what wrought him sorrow, yet filled him with all delight!

A streamlet gushed forth from the hillside, there he saw that which grieved him naught,
A lady so fair to look on that gladly her face he sought.
The flower was she of all women, save Kondwiramur alone
No fairer form nor feature might ever on earth be known. 90
So sweet and so bright to look on, so courteous and royal of mien,
Orgelusé, was she, of Logrois, and men say that in her was seen
The charm that desire awakeneth, a balm for the eyes of care,
For no heart but was drawn toward her, and no mouth but would speak her fair!

Gawain gave her courteous greeting, and he spake, 'If such grace I ģain95
That thou willest I should alight here and awhile at thy side remain,
If I see that my presence please thee, then sorrow be far from me,
And joy in its stead dwell with me, no knight e'er might gladder be!
May I die if the truth I speak not, no woman e'er pleased me more—'
'It is well, yet methinks I knew that,' then the knight for a space she saw; 100

And her sweet lips spake thus unto him, 'Now make of thy praise an end,
For well might it work thee evil, and I care not that foe or friend,
Whoever he be that cometh, his judgment on me shall speak,
For sure if all lips shall praise me my fame it but waxeth weak!
If the wise praise me e'en as the foolish, the false as the pure and true, 105
Then my fame shall be e'en as another's, for the many shall drown the few.
But my praise do I hold, and but wisdom shall speak that which she doth know—
Who thou mayst be, Sir Knight, I know not, but 'tis time thou thy way shouldst go!'

'Yet o'er thee will I speak my verdict, if thou dwellest anear my heart
Then thy dwelling is not within it, for without shalt thou have thy part. 110
And say thou my love desirest, how hast thou rewarding won?
From the eyes swiftly shoot the glances, yet a sling, when the work is done,
Smiteth gentler than looks which linger on that which doth sorrow wreak,
Thy desire is but empty folly, thou shouldst other service seek!
If thine hand for love's sake shall battle, if adventure hath bidden thee 115
By knighthood win love's rewarding, yet thou winnest it not from me.
Nor honour shall be thy portion, but shame shalt thou win alone—
Now the truth have I spoken unto thee, 'twere best thou shouldst get thee gone!'

Then he quoth, 'Truth thou speakest, Lady, since mine eyes thus mine heart have brought
In danger, for they beheld thee, and thy fetters around me wrought. 120
But now, since I be thy captive, I prithee entreat me well,
Without thine own will hast thou done this, in silence I owned thy spell:
Thou shalt loose me, or thou shalt bind me, for my will it shall be as thine,
And gladly all woes I'ld suffer if so I might call thee mine!'

Then she quoth, 'Yea! so take me with thee, if thou countest upon thy gain, 125
And the love that shall be thy guerdon, thou shalt mourn it in shame and pain.

I would know if a man thou shalt be who bravely for me would fight—
And yet, if thou prize thine honour, thou wilt flee from this strife, Sir Knight!
And should I yet further rede thee, and thou shouldst to my word say yea,
Then seek thou elsewhere a lady—For, if thou my love dost pray, 130
Then joy and fair love's rewarding fall never unto thy share,
But sorrow shall be thy portion if hence I with thee shall fare!'

Then answered Gawain, 'Without service, who thinketh true love to win?
An one did so, then here I tell thee, 'twere counted to him for sin,
For true love ever asketh service, yea after as aye before!' 135
Then she quoth, 'Wilt thou do me service? shame waiteth for thee in store,
Tho' thy life be a life of conflict—No coward as my knight I'll own;
See thou yonder path, 'tis no highway, o'er the bridge doth it wend adown
To the garden, take thou the pathway, for there shalt thou find my steed—
Many folk shalt thou see and shalt hearken, but take thou of their words no heed, 140
Nor stay for their dance or singing, for tambour, or harp, or flute,
But go thou to my horse, and loose it, that I go not with thee afoot!'
Gawain sprang from off his charger—Yet awhile he bethought him well
Where his steed might abide his coming: by the waters that rippling fell
Was no tree unto which to bind it, and he knew not if he this dame 145
Might pray, would she hold his charger till once more with her own he came.
Then she quoth, 'I see well what doth vex thee, thine horse shalt thou leave with me,
I will guard it until thy coming tho' small good shall that be to thee!'

Then Gawain took his horse's bridle, 'Now hold this for me, I pray;'
'Now indeed art thou dull and foolish,' spake the lady, 'where thou dost lay 150
Thine hand, thinkest thou I'll hold it? such deed would beseem me ill!'
Then the love-lorn knight spake gently, for fain would he do her will,
'Further forward I never hold it!' Then she quoth, 'I will hold it there,
And do thou my bidding swiftly, bring my steed and with thee I'll fare;'
Then he thought this a joyful hearing, and straightway he left her side, 155
And over the bridge so narrow to the garden gate he hied;
There saw he many a maiden, and knights so brave and young,
And within that goodly garden so gaily they danced and sung.

And Gawain he was clad so richly, with helmet and harness fair,
That all must bewail his coming for naught but true folk dwelt there. 160
They cared for that lovely garden, on the greensward they stood or lay,
Or sat 'neath the tents whose shadow was cool 'gainst the sunlight's ray.
Yet they ceased not to bemoan him, and to grieve for his sorrow sore,
Yea, man alike and maiden, and in this wise their plaint they bore,
'Alas! that our lady's cunning will to danger this knight betray! 165
Alas! that he fain will follow, for she rideth an evil way.'

And many stepped fair towards him, and their arms around him threw,
And bade him a friendly greeting—to an olive tree he drew,
For the steed was fast beneath it, so rich was its gear, I ween,
That the cost of the goodly trappings full thousand marks had been. 170
And an old knight he stood beside it, well-trimmed was his beard and grey,
And upon a staff he leant him, and salt tears he wept alway.
And the tears, they were shed for Gawain, as he to the steed drew near,
Yet his words of kindly greeting fell soft on the hero's ear.
Then he spake, 'Wilt thou hearken counsel? Lay not on this steed thine hand, 175
And herein shalt thou show thy wisdom—tho' none here thy will withstand,
Yet, indeed, it were best to leave it! Accurst be our lady queen,
For of many a gallant hero, I wot, she the death hath been!'
Yet Gawain he would do her bidding—'Then, alas! for woe draweth near,'
Spake the knight, and he loosed the halter, ''Twere best not to linger here, 180
The steed shalt thou take, and shalt leave us, and may He Who made salt the sea,
In the hour of thy need, and thy peril, thy strength and thy counsel be:
And see thou that our lady's beauty, it bringeth thee not to shame,
She is sour in the midst of sweetness, 'mid the sunlight a shower of rain.'

'God grant it,' then quoth Sir Gawain, and straightway he took his leave 185
Of the old knight and of his comrades and sorely the folk did grieve.
And the horse went a narrow pathway, and it passed thro' the garden gate,
And it crossed o'er the bridge, and he found her who there did his coming wait,
The queen of his heart, and the ruler was she of that land so fair,
Yet altho' his heart fled towards her yet grief thro' her deed it bare. 190

Her hand 'neath her chin soft-rounded had loosened the wimple's fold,
And flung it aback on her head-gear,—(if a woman ye thus behold,
Know ye that for strife she longeth and mischief she hath in mind)—
Would ye know how else she had robed her ye naught in my song shall find,
For how might I tell her raiment and name ye her robes aright, 195
When mine eyes, on her fair face gazing, saw naught but her beauty bright?

As Gawain drew near the lady, she hailed him with scornful mien,
'Now welcome, thou goose! for of all men most foolish art thou, I ween,
All too bent shalt thou be on my service, wert thou wise thou wouldst let it be—'
Then he quoth, 'Yet shalt thou be gracious who now art so wroth with me, 200
For so harshly thou dost chastise me thou in honour must make it good,
And my hand shall be fain to serve thee till thou winnest a milder mood;
Ask thou what of me thou willest—Shall I lift thee upon thy steed?'
But she quoth, 'I will no such service, for methinks all too great such meed
For a hand that is yet unproven—Ask thou for a lesser grace!' 205
On the flowery sward she turned her, and she looked not on Gawain's face,
But she laid her hand on the bridle, and she light to the saddle sprung,
And she bade him to ride before her, and she spake with a mocking tongue,
'Now indeed would it be great pity did I stray from so brave a knight,
By God's grace will we keep together, so ride thou within my sight!' 210

Now he who my rede would follow his peace shall he hold awhile,
Lest he speak but the word of folly, till he know if she wrought of guile,
For as yet the truth ye know not, nor the thing that was in her heart.
And were it the time for vengeance, then I too might bear my part,
And take from this lady payment for the wrong she hath done Gawain; 215
Nor of that she shall do hereafter shall aught unavenged remain.

But Orgelusé, that lovely lady, bare herself in no friendly wise,
For she rode in the track of Gawain, and so wrathful, I ween, her guise
That were I in the stead of Gawain little comfort my soul might take
That she from my care would free me, and with fair love atonement make. 220
Then they rode on an open moorland, and a herb did Sir Gawain see
Whose root had the power of healing, and down to the ground sprang he,
And dug up the root, and swiftly he sprang on his steed again.
And the lady she looked upon him, and she spake in a mocking vein,
'Now in sooth if this my companion can at one-while be leech and knight, 225
For starvation he need not fear him if his salve-box he bear aright!'
Quoth Gawain, ''Neath a mighty linden a wounded knight I saw,
Methinks, if again I find him, this herb shall the poison draw
From his wounds, and new strength may give him!' She spake, 'Now I well were fain
To look on thy skill, for who knoweth what knowledge I thence may gain!' 230

Now a squire he rode swift behind them, 'twas the lady's messenger,
Fain was he to do her bidding—As the horse-hoofs they drew anear
Gawain would await his coming, and his steed for a space he held,
Yet he deemed him he saw a monster when first he the squire beheld,
For Malcréature did they call him, and Kondrie was his sister fair, 235
And e'en such a face as the sister, I ween, did the brother bear.
From his mouth, as the tusks of a wild-boar, stood the teeth out to left and right,
Unlike was his face to a man's face, and fearful in all men's sight.
And the locks of his hair were shorter than those which from Kondrie hung
Adown on her mule, stiff as bristles, and sharp, from his head they sprung. 240
And beside the river Ganges, in the land of Tribalibot,
Dwell such folk, if awhile ye hearken ye shall learn how befell their lot.

Now Adam, of all men father, from God did he learn such skill,
All beasts, wild and tame, he knew them, and he namèd them at his will.
And he knew the stars and their pathway, as they circle the silent sky, 245
And the power of the seven planets, how they rule men from heaven high,
And he knew of all roots the virtue, and the ill that was theirs of yore—
When his children were grown to manhood, and daughters and sons they bore,
From evil desires he warned them; and his daughters he oft did rede
Of certain roots to beware them, that wrought ill with the human seed, 250
And would change their face, and their aspect, and dishonoured the race should be;
And he spake, 'Then shall we be other than erst God did fashion me,
And therefore do ye, my children, give heed to the words I say,
Nor be blind to your bliss, lest your children they wander too far astray.'

But the women, they did as women, in forbidden ways they went, 255
And they wrought out the lust and the evil on which their desire was bent,
And the shape of men was changèd, such rewarding their fault must win,
And tho' firm stood the will of Adam yet sorely he mourned their sin—
Now the fair Queen Sekundillé, her body, her crown, and land,
Feirefis had won as his guerdon by the power of his knightly hand, 260
And there, in her far-off kingdom (no lie is the tale I tell)
Full many of this strange people since the days that are gone do dwell,
And their faces are ill to look on, and the birth-marks are strange they bear.
And once of the Grail men told her, and Anfortas' kingdom fair,
That on earth was naught like to his riches, and a marvel she thought his land— 265
(And the waters within her kingdom bare jewels instead of sand,
And many a golden mountain shall rear its crest on high.)
And the queen she thought, 'How may I win speech of his majesty,
Who ruleth the Grail?' she bethought her, and rich presents she sent the king,
Of jewels fair, and beside them, they should to his kingdom bring 270
Of this folk, so strange to look on, the twain of whom now I tell,
Kondrie and the squire, her brother—and in this wise the chance befell
(Much treasure beside she sent him whose cost might of none be told,)
That Anfortas, the gentle monarch, who was courteous as he was bold,
For the love he bare Orgelusé sent this squire unto her grace, 275
By the sin and the lust of women set apart from the human race!

Now this son of the herbs and the planets loud mocked at the gallant knight,
Who, courteous, would wait his coming; no charger he rode of might,
But a mare so feint and feeble and halting in every limb,
And oft to the ground it stumbled 'neath its rider so harsh and grim. 280
I wot well e'en Dame Jeschuté rode a better steed that day
When Parzival's hand avenged her, and her shaming was put away!

The squire he looked well upon Gawain, and thus in his wrath he spake,
'If thou be a knight, I think me, and my lady with thee wilt take
Thou shalt sorely repent the journey—A fool thou in truth must be, 285
And such peril shall be thy guerdon as winneth great praise to thee,
If so be that thou canst withstand it—Yet, if but a servant thou,
Of buffets and blows, I think me, full soon wilt thou have enow!'

Then out quoth Gawain, 'My knighthood such chastisement ne'er might feel,
'Tis good but for worthless youngsters who shrink from the touch of steel; 290
But I hold me free of such insults, and e'en if it so shall be
That thou and this lovely lady your mock'ry shall pour on me,
Then one sure shall taste my vengeance, nor think thou that I wax wroth
For ill tho' thou be to look on I hold thee but light in troth!'
With that by the hair he gripped him, and he swung him from off his horse, 295
The squire glared wrathful on him, and his bristles, so sharp and coarse,
Took vengeance sore on Gawain, his hand did they cut and tear
Till the blood dripped crimson from it—then loud laughed the lady fair,
'Now in sooth this is good to look on, to see ye twain in wrath!'
So rode the twain, the squire's horse came halting upon their path. 300

So came they unto the linden where the wounded knight they found,
On his side the herb of healing the hand of Gawain bound;
Quoth the knight, 'Now, how went it with thee since first thou didst find me here?
Thou leadest with thee a lady who plotteth thine ill, I fear!
'Tis thro' her I so sore am wounded; at the Perilous Ford, I ween, 305
Did she force such a joust upon me as well-nigh my death had been!
So, if thou thy life now lovest, I warn thee to let her be,
And turn thee aside, nor ride with her, but warning to take by me—
And yet may my wounds be healèd, if rest for awhile I gain,
And, Sir Knight, thereto canst thou help me!' 'That will I,' quoth knight Gawain. 310
Then the wounded knight spake further, 'A spital shall stand near by,
And if I but now might reach it for awhile I in peace might lie,
Thou seest my lady's palfrey, it can carry, methinks, the twain
If she rideth afore, I behind her, so help me its back to gain.'

From the bough of the mighty linden Sir Gawain he loosed the steed, 315
And the bridle he took that the palfrey he might to the lady lead—
'Away from me!' cried the sick man, 'thou treadest on me I trow!'
Then he led it apart, and the lady she followed so soft and slow,
For she knew what her lord did purpose; as the maid to her horse he swung,
Up started the knight, and swiftly on the charger of Gawain sprung! 320
And, methinks, an ill deed he did there—With his lady he rode away,
And I ween that with sin was tainted the prize that he won that day!

Then sore did Gawain bemoan him, but the lady laughed loud and clear;
(And, were it a jest, he thought him such mirth were unfitting here,)
As his charger was taken from him her sweet lips in this wise spake, 325
'First wert thou a knight, then, in short space, I thee for a leech must take,
Now art thou become my footman! yet thou shouldst in no wise despair,
Such skill sure should bring thee comfort! Wouldst thou still in my favours share?'

'Yea, Lady,' then quoth Sir Gawain, 'an I might thy favor hold,
The whole earth hath nothing fairer were the tale of its riches told; 330
And of crownèd heads, and uncrownèd, of all who may joyful win
The highest meed of glory, did they bid me to share therein,
Yet still my heart would rede me to count all such gain as naught
If thy love were but weighed against it, such bliss had thy favour brought!
If thy love may not be my guerdon then a swift sad death I'll die, 335
'Tis thine own this thing that thou scornest when thou dealest thus mockingly.
Tho' a free man born thou shalt hold me thy vassal, if such thy will,
Call me knight, or slave, or servant, the name it shall please me still!
Yet, I think me, thou doest not rightly—When my service thou thus wilt shame
Thou drawest down sin upon thee, and thou shamest thine own fair fame. 340
If my service doth bring me honour thou hast naught withal to scorn,
And such words shall but ill beseem thee tho' they lightly by me be borne!'

Then back rode the knight, sore wounded, and he quoth, 'Is it thou, Gawain?
For that which erewhile I owed thee here dost thou full payment gain,
Since thine hand in bitter conflict, me, thy foeman, did prisoner make 345
And unto thine uncle Arthur thou didst me thy captive take,
And four weeks long must I dwell there, and four weeks long I fed
With the dogs—I shall ne'er forget it till the days of my life be sped!'

Then he quoth, 'Is it thou, O Urian? If now thou art wroth with me,
Yet guiltless am I, the king's favour at that time I won for thee, 350
For thy folly so far betrayed thee that men spake thee an outcast knight,
And thy shield it was taken from thee, and forfeit thy name and right;
Since thou ill didst entreat a maiden, and the peace of the land didst break,
With a rope had the king repaid thee, but to him for thy life I spake!'

'Howe'er that might be, here thou standest, and the proverb thou well mayst know, 355
"Who saveth the life of another, that other shall have for foe."
And I do as a wise man doeth—'Tis better a child should weep
Than a full-grown man, and bearded,—this charger mine hand shall keep!'
Then he spurred him amain, and he rode thence, as fast as his steed might fly,
And wroth was Gawain at his dealing, and he spake out right angrily; 360

'Now it fell out in this wise, Lady, King Arthur his court did hold
At Dianasdron, and with him rode many a Breton bold.
Then as messenger to his kingdom a maiden must take her way,
And this fool, for venture seeking, he crossed her path that day,
And both to the land were strangers—He burnt with unholy fire, 365
And fierce with the maid he wrestled till he bent her to his desire.
As she cried for help we heard her—then the king "To arms" did call,
In a wood the thing had chanced thus, thither rode we one and all,
And I rode of all the foremost, and I saw the sinner's track,
And I made him perforce my captive, and to Arthur I brought him back.' 370

'And the maiden she rode beside us, and sorely did she bemoan
That to force she must yield the guerdon that to service was due alone.
Of her maidenhood had he robbed her—Yet but lowly his fame shall stand
Who vaunteth himself the victor o'er a woman's unarmèd hand—
And wrathful, I ween, was King Arthur, and he spake, 'Ye my servants true, 375
Ye shall hold this deed for accursèd, and the day of its doing rue.
Alas! for the woful dawning and the light that this thing hath seen,
Alas! that I here am ruler, for the judgment is mine, I ween!'
And he spake to the weeping maiden, 'Hast thou wisdom, thy cause then plead.'
She spake fearless, e'en as he bade her, and the knights they must list her rede. 380

'Then Prince Urian of Punturtois stood before the Breton king,
And against his life and his honour, her plaint did the maiden bring,
And she spake so that all might hear her, and with weeping words did pray
The king, for the sake of women, her shaming to put away.
And she prayed by the honour of women, and by the Round Table's fame, 385
And the right which as message-bearer she thought of all men to claim,
If he sat there that day for judgment he should judge her with judgment true,
And avenge her of this dishonour which her soul must for ever rue.
And she prayed they would do her justice, those knights of the Table Round,
Since in sooth she had lost a treasure which might never again be found, 390
Her maidenhood fair and unstainèd! Then all men, with one accord,
Spake him guilty, and for his judgment called loudly upon their lord!'

'Then an advocate spake for the captive, (Small honour was his I trow.)
And he spake as he might in his favour, yet it went with him ill enow,
For of life and of honour forfeit did they judge him, the headsman's sword 395
Should ne'er be his death, but a halter should they twine him of hempen cord.
Then loud in his woe he prayed me, since he yielded him to mine hand,
For mine honour should sure be stainèd if wrought were the king's command.
Then I prayed of the weeping maiden, since she saw how that I in fight
Had avenged upon him her shaming, to pardon the traitor knight. 400
For sure 'twas the spell of her beauty that had wrought upon him for sin,
And the love of her form so shapely—"For aye if a knight doth win
Sore peril for love of a woman, she should aid him, and hear his prayer,
So I prithee to cease thine anger, and have pity on his despair."'

'Then the king and his men I prayed them, by what service I e'er had done, 405
They should loose me from stain of dishonour which I by his death had won,
And the knight should live, as I sware him.—Then the lady, his gracious queen,
I prayed by the bond of kinship, since my friend she hath ever been,
(From my childhood, King Arthur reared me and my love doth toward them flow,)
That she of her kindness help me—as I asked, it was even so, 410
For she drew on one side the maiden, and she spake to her soft and kind,
And it was thro' the queen, I wot me, that the knight did his pardon find.
Thus free from his guilt they spake him, yet his sin must he sorely rue,
For the life that was granted to him stern penance he needs must do.
With the hounds of the chase and the house-dogs from one trough he needs must eat 415
For the space of four weeks, thus the maiden found avenging as it was meet!'

'For this cause is he wroth with me, Lady'—'Yet his judgment it went astray,
If my love ne'er shall be thy guerdon, in such wise I'll his deed repay
That ere he shall leave my kingdom he shall count it to him for shame!
Since King Arthur avenged not the evil that was wrought on that maid's fair fame 420
It falleth unto mine office, and judge am I o'er ye twain,
Tho' who ye may be I know not, yet I to this task am fain!
And well shall he be chastisèd for the wrong that he did the maid,
Not for thine, for I ween such evil is better by blows repaid.'

To the mare now Sir Gawain turned him, and lightly he caught the rein, 425
And the squire he followed after, and the lady she spake again,
And in Arabic spake she to him, and she gave him to know her will—
Now hearken unto my story, how Sir Gawain he fared but ill:
Then Malcréature, he left them—and Gawain his horse beheld,
Too feeble it was for battle, the squire, as his way he held 430
Down the hill, from the peasant-owner had taken the sorry steed,
And Gawain for his charger must have it, tho' but ill it might serve his need.

In mocking and hatred spake she, 'Wilt still ride upon thy way?'
Quoth Gawain, 'I will take my journey e'en in such wise as thou shalt say.'
She quoth, 'Wilt abide my counsel? It shall reach thee I ween too late!' 435
Quoth he, 'Yet for that will I serve thee, tho' o'er-long I thy rede shall wait!'
Quoth she, 'Then a fool I think thee, for unless thou shalt leave this mind,
Then sorrow instead of gladness and repentance for joy thou'lt find!'
Then he quoth, of her love desirous, 'Yet thy servant I still abide,
If joy be my lot or sorrow, be thy love and thy will my guide. 440
Since thy love laid its spell upon me in thy bidding my law I see,
And ahorse or afoot I'll follow, I care not where'er it be!'

So stood he beside the lady, and awhile he beheld the mare,
Who to joust with such steed had ridden his gold were o'er-keen to spare!
For the stirrups of hemp were twisted, and ne'er had this gallant knight 445
Such saddle, I ween, bestridden, it would serve him but ill for fight.
For e'en as he looked upon it, he thought, 'If on that I ride,
The girths sure will break asunder, nor the saddle my weight abide!'
And so weak was the steed and ill-shapen, had one dared on its back to leap
Of a sooth would the back have broken—On foot he the road must keep! 450

And in this guise he took his journey: the horse by the rein he held,
And his spear and his shield he carried; and the lady his grief beheld,
And she mocked him with ringing laughter, fain was she to work him woe—
Then his shield on the mare he fastened, and she spake, 'In such guise wouldst go,
And carry thy wares thro' my kingdom? A strange lot is mine, I ween, 455
Since footman, and leech, and merchant in turn hath my comrade been!
Of the toll hadst thou best beware thee, or else, as thou goest thy way,
It may chance they who take the toll here on thy merchandise hands may lay!

And tho' sharp, I ween, was her mocking yet her words was he fain to hear,
Nor rued he the bitter speeches that rang sweet to his longing ear. 460
And as ever his eyes beheld her his sorrow it fled away,
For fair was she to his thinking as blossoms in month of May!
A delight of the eyes, and heart-sorrow, his gain and his loss was she,
And languishing joy did she quicken—Her freeman and captive he!

This hath many a master taught me, that Amor, and Cupid too, 465
And Venus, of both the mother, make all men their deeds to rue;
For with darts and with fire they kindle desire in the longing heart,
But such love seemeth me but evil that is lighted by torch or dart.
And the true heart it loveth ever, be its guerdon or joy or woe,
And in honour the love is rooted which alone shall abiding know! 470

'Gainst me have thy darts, O Cupid! I ween ever missed their mark,
Nor Amor with spear hath smote me, nor fell on my heart a spark
From the torch of thy mother Venus—Tho' love 'neath your rule shall be,
If love be my lot, not from passion but from faith shall it bloom for me!

And if I with wit and wisdom 'gainst love's spells might a hero aid, 475
Gawain had I gladly aided, nor asked that I be repaid.
And yet no shame need he think it if love's fetters him captive hold,
And if he of love be vanquished, for her captives are aye the bold.
And yet so strong was he ever, and so knightly, to face the foe,
That 'tis pity so brave a hero by a woman should be laid low! 480

Now well let us gaze upon thee, thou power which true love doth wield,
Such joy hast thou taken from us that barren and reft the field,
And thou makest a road of sorrow across it, both long and wide,
And if thy goal had been other than the high heart I would not chide.
For folly methinks and lightness love all too old shall be, 485
Or shall we to childhood reckon the evil love worketh free?
For better are ways unseemly in youth, than if age forget
Its wisdom—much ill love worketh, unto which shall the blame be set?
For the mind of youth ever wavers, and changeth as changing winds,
And if love shall be thus unsteadfast, little praise may she hope to find. 490
Nay, better shall be my counsel, for the wise praise true love alone;
Yea, and maiden and man shall join me, and all who love's power have known.

When true love unto true love answereth, undarkened by thought of guile,
And it vexeth them not that love turneth the key on their heart awhile,
For they fear not nor think of wavering, then high as the heaven above 495
O'er the earth, o'er the love that changeth, is such true and steadfast love.

Yet, gladly as I would free him, to Frau Minne Gawain must bow,
And his joy shall awhile be darkened—Small profit my words, I trow,
And the wisdom I fain had taught him, for no man may love withstand,
And love alone giveth wisdom, and nerveth with strength the hand! 500

And to Gawain she gave this penance, afoot must he wend his way
While his lady she rode beside him—To a woodland they came alway,
And he led the steed to a tree-trunk, and the shield that awhile it bare
He hung round his neck as befitting, and lightly bestrode the mare,
And scarcely the steed might bear him—Then they came to a builded land, 505
And a castle so fair and stately he saw there before him stand,
And his heart and his eyes bare witness no fortress was like this hall,
So knightly and fair the palace, and so countless its turrets tall.
And many a maiden looked forth from its casements, he thought to see
Four hundred and more, o'er all others, I ween, four might fairest be. 510

Then the lady and her companion they rode a well-trodden road
To a water whose waves ran swiftly, and ships sailed the flood so broad.
By the landing there lay a meadow, where men jousts were wont to ride,
And the towers of that stately castle rose fair on the further side.
Then Gawain, that gallant hero, saw a knight who rode swift and near, 515
As one who for combat lusted, and he spared not or shield or spear.

Quoth the lady, fair Orgelusé, and haughty her tone and proud,
'In what else thou mayst gainsay me in this be my truth allowed,
For other I ne'er have told thee save that shame shall thy portion be,
Now here, if thou canst, defend thee, since no better is left to thee. 520
Methinks he who cometh hither shall fell thee beneath his thrust—
If thy garments perchance be riven, and thou bitest, ashamed, the dust,
Then those women above shall mourn thee, who look for some deed of fame,
Seest thou how they gaze from the lattice? How, then, if they see thy shame?'
Then the boatman across the water he came at the lady's will, 525
From the shore to the boat she stepped there, and Gawain it but pleased him ill;
For, mocking, fair Orgelusé spake thus to the gallant knight,
'Thou com'st not with me, I leave thee on this shore as a pledge for fight!'
Then sadly his voice rang after, 'Say, Lady, wilt leave me so?
Shall I never again behold thee?' Then she spake, 'I would have thee know 530
If victory be thy portion thou shalt look on my face again,
Yet but small is the chance I think me.' So sailed she from knight Gawain.

Then up rode Lischois Giwellius, 'twere a lie if I said he flew,
And yet little other did he for the earth scarce his footprints knew.
And for this must I praise the charger, who the greensward with such swift feet 535
Had trodden—Gawain bethought him how he best might his foeman meet;
He thought, 'Should I here await him afoot, or this steed bestride?
If his horse's speed he check not he surely o'er me will ride,
And this fate must o'ertake his charger, to fall o'er my fallen steed;
But, if he for combat lusteth, afoot on this flowery mead 540
Will I face him and give him battle, since battle he doth desire,
Tho' never I win her favour who hath brought on me need so dire.'

Fight they must, and they fought as heroes, he who came and he who did wait,
For jousting he made him ready, and the lance-point Gawain held straight,
And he rested it on the saddle, (for thus did he counsel take,) 545
Then e'en as the joust was ridden the spears did in splinters break,
And the knights, the one as the other, they fell in that goodly fray,
For the better charger stumbled and by Gawain its rider lay.
Then the twain to their feet upspringing their swords from the scabbard drew,
Since alike they were keen for combat, and their shields in pieces flew, 550
For each hewed at the shield of the other till a hand's breadth alone, I ween,
They held, for the pledge of conflict the shield it hath ever been.

Flashed the sword-blades, fire sprang from the helmets, a venture brave I trow
Was his who should here be victor, tho' stern conflict he first must know.
Long space did they fight, those heroes, on the flowery meadow wide, 555
And as smiths, who all day have laboured, as it weareth to eventide
Grow faint with their toil and weary with the mighty blows they smite,
So weary and faint were those heroes who here did for honour fight.

But for this none methinks shall praise them, unwise do I hold the twain,
No cause had they here for battle, 'twas fame that they thought to gain; 560
And strangers unto each other, each other's life they sought,
And yet, had they made confession, each owed to the other naught!

Now Gawain was a gallant wrestler, and his foe to the ground would bring
If in spite of the sword he might grip him, and let but the mighty ring
Of his arms his foeman circle, he forced him where'er he would. 565
Now must he with force defend him, and he fought as a hero good,
And his courage waxed ever higher, and the youth in his arms he caught,
And he bare him to earth beneath him tho' e'en as a man he fought.
And he quoth, 'Wilt thou live, thou hero, thou must yield thee unto mine hand!'
Yet Lischois, he was all unready to follow so stern command; 570
For never his pledge had he given, and he deemed it a wondrous thing
That the hand of a knight should o'erthrow him, and him in such peril bring
That against his will he must yield him, who had ever the victor been,
For in sooth full many a combat his foeman o'erthrown had seen.
Full oft he from them had taken what he cared not to give again, 575
Nay, rather his life would he forfeit; and he spake unto knight Gawain,
And he said, 'Let what would befall him, his pledge to no man he'd give;'
Nay, death would he rather suffer, since no longer he cared to live!

Then sadly, he spake, the vanquished, 'Thou hero, is victory thine?
So long as God bare me favour such honour was ever mine; 580
But now hath my fame an ending, and thy right hand hath laid me low,
And if maiden and man must hearken to the tale of my overthrow
Whose glory once rose to the heaven, then death shall my portion be
Ere my kinsmen shall hear the story, and shall sorrow and mourn for me!
Yet Gawain still prayed him yield him, but his will and his mind were so 585
That he prayed God would rather take him, or slay him by this his foe.
Thought Gawain, 'I am loth to kill him, if he swear but to do my will
Unharmed he may go'—yet the young knight withheld him his promise still.

Then, ere he his hand had given, the hero he bade him rise,
On the flowery mead they sat them: then Gawain he bethought him wise, 590
(For his sorry steed it vexed him) the horse of his vanquished foe
With spur and with rein would he test there, if 'twere good for his need or no.
('Twas armed as beseemed a warhorse, and the covering was fair to see,
Of velvet and silk was it fashioned, what trapping might better be?)
Since the venture such prize had brought him, who should hinder him in his need 595
If for his own use he took it? so he vaulted upon the steed:

And he joyed in the free, swift movement, and he cried, 'Now, how shall this be?
Of a sooth it is thou, Gringuljet, that false Urian stole from me.
He knoweth best how he took it, and shameful I count his deed.
Now, who thus for battle armed thee, since thou art of a truth my steed? 600
Sure 'tis God who hath sent thee to me, and this fair gift shall end my woe.'
Then he sprang to the ground, and he sought him the token he well might know,
On its shoulder the Grail-Dove branded—In a joust did Lähelein slay
Its rider, the knight of Prienlaskors, and the charger he bare away.
Then Orilus was its master, and he gave it to knight Gawain 605
On Plimizöl's shore—greatly joyed he when the charger he won again.

Blithe was he, and high of courage, who awhile was sad and sore,
Yet love unto ruth constrained him, and the service so true he bore
To the lady who yet would shame him, and his thoughts ever toward her flew.
Then up sprang proud Lischois lightly, and his good sword he gripped anew, 610
For it lay where Gawain had cast it when he wrested it from his hand:
And the ladies look down on the heroes, as for combat once more they stand.

The shields were so hacked and riven that the knights they must cast them by,
And, shieldless, to strife betake them, and they bare them right gallantly.
And a crowd of fair maidens o'er them from the palace window saw 615
The strife that below was foughten: and fierce anger awoke once more,
For too nobly born I wot me was each man that he might brook
That his fame should be lightly yielded, and maids on his shaming look.
And helmet and sword were smitten, for shields 'gainst cold death were they,
He who saw the heroes strive there had mourned for their toil that day. 620
Lischois Giwellius bare him, that fair youth, as knight so brave,
True courage, and deeds undaunted, the counsel his high heart gave.
And many a swift blow dealt he, as quick on Gawain he sprung,
And lightly avoided from him, and his blade round his head he swung.
But Gawain stood firm and undaunted, and he thought him, 'Now, let me hold 625
Thee once in mine arms, I'll repay thee thy dealings, thou hero bold!'

And fiery sparks might ye look on, and the flash of the glittering blade
Well wielded by hand of hero—Nor one in his station stayed,
For they pressed each one on the other, backward, forward, to either side,
Yet this conflict so fierce, I wot me, did ne'er of revenge betide, 630
And no hatred they bare to each other—Then the arms of Gawain at last
He clasped round his gallant foeman, and the knight to the ground he cast.
And I think, an I friendship sware here, I would shrink from such fond embrace,
E'en tho' brotherhood it were sealing—Nor with ye would such clasp find grace!

Then Gawain he bade him yield him, yet Lischois, who against his will 635
Had striven when first he felled him, was all unready still.
And he quoth, 'Wherefore thus delay thee, 'tis needless, take thou my life,
For better to die than to yield me—Since I wot well that in this strife
The fame that was mine aforetime hath vanished beneath thy blow,
Of God must I be accursèd, since my glory such goal doth know! 640
For the love of fair Orgelusé have I served her with knightly hand,
And many a knight have I felled here, for none might my arm withstand.
Now shalt thou be heir to my glory, for it falleth to thee of right
If thou, who my fame hath ended, here endeth my life, Sir Knight.'

But King Lot's son he thought in this wise, 'To this deed have I little mind, 645
My name, it shall gain small honour if this man here his death shall find,
If for no sin of his I slay him, who is true and valiant knight—
'Twas her love that spurred him 'gainst me, for whose favour I too would fight;
'Tis her beauty that doth constrain me, 'tis she that doth work me woe,
Then why not, for the sake of my lady, show mercy to this my foe? 650
If perchance for mine own I win her, if mine own such bliss may be,
Then he cannot take her from me since stronger am I than he!
And if o'er our strife she watcheth, then she must of a surety own
That I, who for love would serve her, true service and good have shown!'
Then out spake the gallant Gawain, 'I were loth thy life to take, 655
But hence will I let thee, scatheless, for fair Orgelusé's sake!'

Weary were they, small wonder, then the fallen knight arose,
And down on the grassy meadow apart sat those gallant foes.
Then the master boatman stepped forth from the water unto the land,
And a grey and yearling falcon he carried upon his hand. 660
This right was his o'er the meadow, who jousted upon the plain,
The charger of him who was vanquished he did as his tribute gain.
From his hand, who was there the victor, should he take, as a gift, the steed,
And bowing, thank him fairly, nor stint of his praise the meed.
And such payment he oft had taken on the flowery meadow green, 665
Nor otherwise had his living; save at whiles, when such chance had been,
That a bird in his falcon's clutches had fluttered in grief and pain.
Nor plough drave he thro' those furrows, for enough did he deem his gain.
And son of a folk so knightly was he born to a knight's estate,
And courteous, I ween, his bearing who there on Gawain did wait. 670

So came he unto the hero, and with courteous word and fair
He prayed of his hand the tribute, and the steed that should be his share.
Quoth Gawain, the gallant hero, 'No merchant methinks I be
To pay here or toll or tribute, from such tax do I hold me free!'
Then he spake out, the master boatman, 'Sir Knight, since full many a maid 675
Hath seen thee stand here the victor, by thee be my tribute paid.
My right o'er the plain must thou own here, in knightly joust thine hand
Hath won for mine own this charger; nor thy fame shall the lower stand,
For he, whom thine hand o'erthrew here, the world with his praises rung,
And with truth, unto this day's dawning, have men of his glory sung; 680
But now he of God is stricken, and his joy hath an ending found,
But thou, in his stead, I think me, with honour and fame art crowned!'

Quoth Gawain, 'He first o'erthrew me, and I but that deed repaid.
If tribute for joust be due here, by him be that tribute paid!
Look well on this mare, he won it, thou canst take it if such thy will. 685
The charger that standeth by me, as mine own will I claim it still—
Tho' never a steed be thy portion, on that steed I hence will go,
Thou speakest of right, wouldst thou take it, then first I would have thee know
(Yea, thou thyself wilt own it) 'tis unfitting I take my way
Afoot, and right sore 'twould grieve me if that charger were thine alway! 690
For to-day in the early morning it was mine without doubt or fear,
And childish thou art if thou thinkest thus lightly to win it here!
'Twas Duke Orilus, the Burgundian, who gave me the steed of old,
Which Urian stole this morning, and the tale thou for truth shalt hold.
And the foal of a mule shalt thou win thee ere thy prize be this steed of mine— 695
Yet a fair gift in sooth will I give thee, for the steed shall the knight be thine,
Thou accountest him honour-worthy—if he say thee or yea or nay,
And if well or ill it doth please him I abide by my word alway!'

Then joyful I ween was the boatman, and with smiling lips he spake,
'Now methinks that a gift so costly it hath ne'er been my lot to take, 700
And I deem myself all unworthy—Yet, Sir Knight, be he mine indeed,
Then the guerdon is more than I asked for and o'er my deserts my meed.
For his praises they rang so clearly that five hundred steeds all told,
Swift-footed and strong for battle, too low for his price I'ld hold!
If a rich man thou thus wilt make me, then this thing shalt thou do for me, 705
To my boat shalt thou captive bring him, that I hold him as pledge from thee.'
King Lot's son he spake in answer, 'Yea this will I do, and more,
To thy boat first, and then from out it will I lead him within thy door,
And there will I yield him captive'—'And there will I welcome thee!'
Spake the boatman, and low he bowed him, and thanks spake he fair and free. 710
And he quoth, 'Dear my lord and master, if it please thee to be my guest,
And abide in my house till the morning, then softly I'll bid thee rest.
Nor won boatman e'er higher honour, and blest be the eventide
That seeth a knight so gallant 'neath the shade of my roof-tree bide.'

Then out quoth Gawain, 'That will I, for in truth I had prayed this grace, 715
For weary am I with battle, and fain would I rest a space.
She who to this sorrow led me, her sweetness she maketh sour,
And heart's joy shall be dear to purchase, and sorrow doth crown each hour,
And the guerdon for this her service unlike to herself shall be—
Alas! I had found a treasure, yet but loss hath it brought to me! 720
And one breast thro' that loss now sinketh that awhile swelled so proud and high,
When joy was from God my portion, for a heart did beneath it lie.
Now I think me that heart hath vanished, and where shall I comfort seek?
Shall I helpless abide that Frau Minne her wrath upon me shall wreak?
Yea, had she the heart of a woman she would give me my joy again 725
Who maketh her sweetness bitter, and turneth my bliss to pain!'

Then the boatman he heard how he wrestled with sorrow, by love constrained,
And he quoth, 'So is here the custom, in the forest as on the plain,
As far as Klingsor ruleth, be he coward or valiant knight,
"Sad to day, to-morrow joyful," So it goeth for peace or fight. 730
Perchance the truth thou knowst not? This land is a wonder-land,
And ever by day and by night-time if good luck shall not aid thine hand
Little good may thy manhood do thee! See thou how the sun sinks low,
I think me, Sir Knight, it were better that we should to my vessel go!'
Then Lischois he was led by Gawain, and never a word he spake, 735
And the boatman he followed after and the steed by its rein did take.

So sailed they across the water, and they came to the further coast,
And the boatman he prayed Sir Gawain, 'Be thou in mine house the host.'
And so rich was the house and stately, that scarce in King Arthur's land,
E'en in Nantes that noble city, did a fairer dwelling stand. 740
And he led Lischois thro' the doorway, and he gave him unto the care
Of the host and his folk—Then the boatman spake thus to his daughter fair,
'Fair times and a goodly lodging be the lot of this noble knight
Who standeth here, go thou with him, for I deem me it shall be right,
And tend him as best shall seem thee, nor stint thou in aught thy care, 745
For great good hath he brought unto us, and 'tis meet he thy grace should share!'

To his son's care he gave the charger—-Then the maiden her sire's behest
Fulfilled as right well became her, for she led the noble guest
To a chamber fair, where the flooring was hid 'neath a carpet green
Of rushes and fresh-plucked blossoms, as the way of the land had been. 750
There the gentle maid unarmed him—quoth Gawain, 'God show grace to thee,
For had not thy sire thus bade thee too great were thy care for me!'
And she quoth, 'For my father's bidding I do not this deed, Sir Knight,
But rather that this my service may find favour before thy sight.'

Then a squire, the host's son, must bear there soft cushions, a goodly store, 755
And along the wall he laid them, and over against the door.
And a carpet he spread before them that Gawain he might seat him there;
And as one who knew well his office a cushion so rich he bare,
With a covering of crimson sendal, that down on the couch he laid;
And a seat like unto the other for the host he beside it made. 760
Came another squire and he carried fresh linen the board to spread,
(For thus gave the host commandment,) and he bare with the linen bread.
And the hostess she followed after, and she looked well upon Gawain,
And she gave him a heartfelt greeting, and she spake, 'Now such grace we gain
From thine hand we are rich henceforward as we never have been before, 765
Sir Knight, sure our good luck waketh since such fortune it hither bore!'

Then when they had brought him water, and the host sat beside his guest,
With courteous mien Sir Gawain this prayer to his host addrest,
'Now I pray let this maid eat with me,' 'Sir Knight, ne'er was she allowed
To sit with knights, or eat with them, lest she wax of their grace too proud. 770
And yet so much do we owe thee, loth were I to say thee nay.
So, daughter, sit thou beside him, and as he shall speak obey!'

Then she blushed for shame all rosy, yet she did as her father bade,
And down on the couch by Gawain sat Bené the gracious maid.
(And two stalwart sons had the boatman beside that maiden sweet) 775
Three game-birds, I ween, that even were slain by the falcon fleet,
And all three did they bear unto Gawain, and a broth with herbs beside,
And the maiden she courteous served him as she sat by the hero's side;
For she carved for him dainty morsels, and laid them on bread so white
With her slender hands, and gently she spake to the stranger knight, 780
'Wilt thou send a bird to my mother? for else hath she none, I ween.'
Then gladly he told the maiden his will e'en as hers had been
In this thing as in all other—to the hostess the bird they bare,
And they honoured the hand of the hero, nor the boatman his thanks would spare.

Purslain and lettuce brought they, in vinegar steeped, I ween 785
Had he sought here his strength to nourish little good might such food have been;
And if one should o'er-long feed on it then the colour it waxeth pale,
Such pallor as truth betrayeth, if the mouth to its speaking fail.
And if with false red it be hidden, it fadeth, and bringeth shame,
But she who is true and steadfast she winneth the higher fame. 790

If one by goodwill were nourished, then Gawain, he right well had fed,
To her child naught the mother grudgeth, and as free gave the host his bread.
Then they bare away the tables, and the hostess she bade him rest,
And bedding I ween in plenty they brought for the gallant guest.
And one was of down, and the covering above it of velvet green, 795
Yet the velvet was none of the richest tho' fair had its fashion been.
And a cushion must serve for cover, beneath it should Gawain lie;
Nor the silk had with gold been purchased, 'twas won in far Araby.
Of silk, too, the cunning stitching, and the linen was fair, and white
As snow that they laid above it, and a pillow they brought the knight. 800
And a cloak of her own she lent him, for wrapping, that maiden fair,
'Twas new, and of ermine fashioned, and such as a prince might wear.

Then leave the host courteous prayed him ere he laid himself down to sleep,
And men say that alone with Sir Gawain the maiden her watch did keep,
And I think if he more had prayed her she never had said him Nay— 805
Then he slept, for he well might slumber, God keep him till dawn of day!

BOOK XI
ARNIVE

ARGUMENT

Book XI. tells how Gawain would brave the venture of the Château Marveil, and how the boatman and his daughter strove to withhold him. How Gawain came to the Castle, and of the Lit Merveil and its perils. How Gawain slew the lion, and ended the enchantments of the castle, and how he was healed of his wounds by the Queen Arnivé.

BOOK XI

ARNIVE

Weary he closed his eyelids, and he slept in a slumber deep
Till the light of the early morning must waken him from his sleep.
And many a window saw he within that chamber wall,
And clear glass was before each window—Thro' a doorway the light did fall,
'Twas open, without was an orchard, thither gat him the gallant knight 5
For the air, and the song-birds' music, and to see what might meet his sight
And but little space had he sat there, when the castle he saw again
As at eventide he saw it when he fought on the grassy plain.
And he saw from the hall of the palace full many a maiden gaze,
And many were fair to look on; and he thought, with a great amaze, 10
That a wondrous watch they must keep there, since they wearied not thro' the night,
And little might they have slumbered, for as yet scarce had dawned the light.

Then he thought, 'For the sake of these ladies will I lay me to sleep once more.'
Then again to his couch he gat him, and for covering he drew him o'er
The mantle the maid had lent him—Did no man his slumber break? 15
Nay, sorely the host had vexed him, if one should his guest awake.
Then of true heart bethought the maiden, who soft by her mother lay,
And she roused her from out her slumber, and she took to the guest her way,
And again he slept so sweetly—Then she thought her, that gentle maid,
That fain would she do him service, and she sat her beside his bed, 20
Fair was she, and sweet to look on, and but seldom at eventide,
Or in hour of the early dawning, such venture has sought my side!
Short space ere Gawain awakened and beheld how she watched him there,
And he looked and he laughed upon her, 'God reward thee, thou maiden fair,
That thou breakest for me thy slumber, on thyself dost thou vengeance take, 25
Since nor service nor joust so knightly have I ridden for thy sweet sake!'
And she answered, that gracious maiden, 'On thy service no claim have I,
But look thou with favour on me, and thy will do I willingly,
And all who are with my father, yea, mother alike and child,
Do hail thee their lord and master, for love of thy dealings mild!' 30

Then he quoth, 'Is it long since thou camest? Had I of thy coming known
Fain would I have asked a question, perchance thou the truth hadst shown:
Yestreen and again this morning fair ladies have looked on me
From a mighty tower, of thy goodness now tell me who may they be?'
But the maiden she shrunk in terror, and she cried, 'Ask me not, Sir Knight, 35
Since ne'er may I give an answer—I prithee to hear aright,
If I knew, yet I might not tell thee, nor do thou my silence chide,
But ask thou what else shall please thee and my lips naught from thee shall hide,
But on this thing alone keep silence, and follow thou what I say!'
But Gawain, he would ever ask her, and ever an answer pray, 40
What ladies were they who sat there, and looked from that stately hall?
And the maiden she wept full sorely, and aloud in her grief did call.

'Twas yet in the early dawning, and her father he sought her side,
Nor I deem me had he been wrathful if here did such chance betide
That Gawain with the maid had striven, and had forced her unto his will, 45
And the maiden, so fair and gentle, in such wise did she hold her still,
For beside the couch was she seated—Then her father he mildly spake,
'Now weep not so sore, my daughter, for if one a jest doth make
Whereof thou at first art wrathful, yet I ween ere the time be long,
Shall thy sorrow be changed to gladness, and thy wailing to joyful song!' 50

Quoth Gawain, 'Nay, mine host, naught hath chanced here save that which thine eye may see;
This maiden I fain would question, but naught would she tell to me,
For she thinketh, 'tis my undoing, and silence hath she implored:
But now if it shall not vex thee let my service here find reward,
And tell me, mine host, if it please thee, how it stands with those ladies there, 55
For I know not the place or the country where I looked on such maidens fair,
So many there are, and their raiment showeth clear to my wondering sight!'
Then the host wrung his hands for sorrow, and he spake, 'Ask me not, Sir Knight,
In the name of God, ask no question—For wherever thy foot shall speed,
Or whatever thine eyes shall light on, no need shall be like their need!' 60

'Then soothly I'll mourn for their sorrow,' quoth Gawain, 'but mine host now say
Why vex thee so sore for my question? Thine answer why thus delay?'
'Sir Knight, for thy manhood mourn I, if thou wilt not thy question spare
Then strife sure shall be thy portion, and sorrow thine heart shall bear.
And thy sorrow of joy shall rob us, myself and my children three, 65
Who were born for thy gallant service true service to yield to thee.'
Quoth Gawain, 'Yet for this thou shalt tell me, or if thou still say me, Nay,
And I learn not from thee the story yet the truth will I know alway!'

Then the host he spake out truly, 'Sir Knight, I must sorely rue,
The question thou here dost ask me—Thou goest to strife anew, 70
Arm thee well, and a shield I'll lend thee—In "Terre Merveil" thou art,
And the "Lit Merveil" shall be here—And ne'er hath a knightly heart
Withstood all the many dangers that in Château Merveil shall be!
Turn aside, ere thy death o'ertake thee, for life should be dear to thee!
For wherever thine hand shall have striven, or what ventures soe'er it found 75
As child's play have been thy perils to those which beset this ground!'

Quoth Gawain, 'Yet 'twould sorely vex me, if I, but to save me pain,
Rode hence, doing naught, and those ladies had looked for mine aid in vain.
Long since have I heard of this castle, and since it so near doth stand
No man from the task shall bring me; to the venture I set my hand!' 80
Then the host he did sore bemoan him, and he spake to his guest so true,
'Now as naught is all other peril, what perils around thee drew,
To the peril of this adventure, to its awe, and its anguish dire,
And naught but the truth am I speaking, for no man ever spake me liar!
But that gallant knight, Sir Gawain, for naught would he turn aside, 85
But he quoth, 'Now mine host give counsel how the strife I may best abide,
If thy words be the words of wisdom, and God give me the strength thereto,
Thy will and thy rede I'll follow, and knightly the deeds I'll do!
Sir Host, of a sooth it were ill done, did I fail here a blow to strike,
And coward should I be accounted of foeman and friend alike.' 90
Then first did the host bemoan him, such sorrow he ne'er might know,
And he quoth to his guest, 'If it may be that Heaven such grace shall show
That death be not here thy portion, then this land unto thee shall fall.
And the stake is full many a maiden fast bound in a magic thrall,
No man ere this day hath freed them—And with them many noble knights 95
Shall lie as yet imprisoned; and if thou with hand of might
Shall loose them, thou winnest glory, and God showeth grace to thee,
And joyful, o'er light and beauty, king and ruler thou sure shalt be!
And maidens from many a country shall honour thee as their king.
Nor think, if thou now dost ride hence, such deed shame on thee should bring, 100
Since on this field Lischois Giwellius hath yielded him to thine hand,
And left unto thee his honour; who erstwhile in every land
Hath done gallant deeds of knighthood, of right may I praise his name,
No knight showed a higher courage, or won him a fairer fame.
And in no heart the root of virtue it showeth such fair increase 105
In blossom and flower of God's planting, save in Ither of Gaheviess!'

'And he who at Nantes slew Prince Ither my ship bare but yesterday,
Five steeds hath he given unto me, (God keep him in peace alway,)
Princes and kings once rode them, but now they afar must fare,
And tidings of him who o'erthrew them must they carry to Pelrapär. 110
For thus have they sworn the victor—His shield telleth many a tale
Of jousting so fair and knightly—He rode hence to seek the Grail!'

Quoth Gawain, 'Say, whence came he hither? Mine host, since he rode so near,
Knew he naught of the wondrous venture? Or did he the marvel hear?'
'Sir Knight, ne'er a word hath he heard here, I guarded me all too well, 115
Lest unseemly my deed be reckoned if unasked I the tale should tell.
And hadst thou thyself not asked me thou never from me hadst known
The venture that here awaits thee, wrought of terror and pain alone.
If thou wilt not forego this peril, and thy life shall the forfeit pay,
Then never a greater sorrow have we known than we know to-day. 120
But if thou shalt here be victor, and over this land shalt reign,
Then my poverty hath an ending, and my loss shall be turned to gain;
Such trust in thy free hand have I, I shall joy without sorrow know
If thy glory here winneth glory, and thy body be not laid low!'

'Now arm thee for deadly warfare!'—unarmed was as yet Gawain, 125
'Now I prithee bring here my harness!' and the host to his will was fain.
And from head to foot she armed him, the maiden fair and tall,
And her father he sought the charger—Now a shield hung upon the wall,
And the wood it was tough and well hardened, (else Gawain ne'er this tale might tell,)
And the shield and the horse were brought him—and the host he bethought him well; 130
And, as once more he stood before him, he spake, 'List thou well, Sir Knight,
I will tell thee how thou shalt bear thee, and guard thee thy life in fight:'

'My shield shalt thou carry with thee! Of war shall it bear no trace
For but seldom I strive in battle, nor I count it me as disgrace.
When thou comest, Sir Knight, to the castle, do this, it shall serve thy steed: 135
At the doorway a merchant sitteth, buy of him that which thou shalt need,
Then give him thy steed, he will hold it, nor care thou what thou shalt buy,
As a pledge will he hold thy charger, and will give it thee joyfully
If unhurt from the Burg thou comest!' Quoth Gawain, 'Say, shall I not ride?'
'Nay, nay, for sore peril neareth, and the maidens their faces hide!' 140

'Thou shalt find that fair palace lonely, deserted by great and small,
And no token of living creature shalt thou see in that stately hall.
And may God's grace watch o'er thy footsteps, and His blessing go with thine hand
When thou comest into the chamber where the "Lit Merveil" shall stand.
And the couch, and the rollers beneath it, in Morocco they first were made 145
For the Ruler of all the Faithful; and were it in the balance weighed
'Gainst all treasures of crown and kingdom it still would outweigh them all.
And I wot, there shall ill o'ertake thee, and God knoweth what shall befall,
But I pray that the end be joyful! Yet hearken, Sir Knight, to me,
This sword and this shield that thou holdest, in thine hand must they ever be, 150
For surely when thou shalt think thee that the peril hath done its worst,
Then first mayst thou look for conflict, and then shall the storm-cloudburst!'

Then mournful I ween was the maiden, as Gawain to the saddle sprung,
And all they who stood around her they wept and their hands they wrung,
Then he quoth to his host, 'God grant me that hereafter I may repay 115
The care and the kindly counsel I have won from thy lips to-day.'
Then leave did he pray of the maiden, and her sorrow was sore to see,
He rode hence, and they whom he left here they mourned for him bitterly.
And now, if ye fain would hearken what unto Gawain befell,
The tale of his wondrous venture right gladly to ye I'll tell. 160

And in this wise I heard the story—As he came to the castle gate,
A merchant with merchandise costly without did his coming wait.
And so rich were his wares, and precious, that in sooth I were glad at heart
If I, in so great a treasure, my portion might bear and part.
Then, Sir Gawain, he sprang from his charger, for ne'er had he seen before 165
Outspread in the open market such goods as were here in store.
And the booth was of velvet fashioned, four-square, and both wide and high,
And that which lay there for purchase no monarch might lightly buy.
The Baruch of Bagdad scarcely had paid that which lay therein;
Nor the Patriarch of Rankulat might think him such prize to win. 170
Yea, and great as shall be the treasure that was found but awhile ago
In the land of the Greeks yet their Emperor such riches might hardly know!
And e'en if these twain had helped him the price he had failed to pay
That a man must count for the treasure that here before Gawain lay.

Then the knight greeted well the merchant as he looked on the wondrous store 175
Of marvels that lay before him, but he stayed not to turn it o'er,
But bade him show clasp and girdle; then he quoth to the hero bold,
'For many a year have I sat here, yet no man doth my wares behold;
None but ladies have looked upon them! yet if manhood shall nerve thine hand
Of all here shalt thou be the master; they were brought from a distant land, 180
If here thou shalt be the victor, (for in sooth hast thou come for fight,)
And the venture shall well betide thee, I will deal with thee well, Sir Knight!
For all that my booth containeth is thine if thou win the day!
So trust thou in God and His mercy, and take to the Burg thy way.
Plippalinòt in sooth hath sent thee, and thy coming well praised shall be 185
Of many a gracious maiden if thy prowess shall set her free!'

'Now wouldst thou withstand this venture leave here for awhile thy steed,
If thou trust it unto my keeping, I will give to the charge good heed.'
Quoth Gawain, 'Yea, I'll gladly do so, if unseemly be not the task,
Too greatly I fear thy riches such grace from thine hand to ask, 190
For ne'er since I rode upon it such keeper my steed hath known'—
Out quoth the merchant freely, 'Sir Knight, all shall be thine own,
Myself, and the wares I guard here, (nor further of them I'll speak,)
They are his, who in safety faceth the danger thou here dost seek!'

And so bold was I ween the hero that on foot did he go straightway, 195
Undaunted, to face the peril untold that before him lay.
And, as I before have told ye, the Burg it stood high and wide,
And its bulwarks so stoutly builded did guard it on either side.
If for thirty years they stormed it, not a berry or leaf would yield,
However the foe might threaten; in the midst was a grassy field, 200
(Yet the Lechfeld I ween is longer,) many turrets they towered on high,
And the story it tells that Gawain, as the palace he did espy,
Saw the roof shine all many-coloured, as peacock's plumes its glow,
And so bright it was that its glory was dimmed nor by rain nor snow.

And within was it richly furnished, and decked to delight the eye, 205
And the pillars were richly carven, and the windows were arched on high,
And many a fair couch costly had they set there against the wall,
Nor touched they the one to the other, and rich covers lay over all.
And but now had the maidens sat there, but each one had taken thought,
And no one of them all remained there, and of welcome Gawain found naught. 210
Yet their joy came again with his coming, and the day of their bliss was he,
And 'twere well they had looked upon him, none fairer their eyes might see.
Yet none there might dare behold him, tho' to serve them he aye was fain,
And yet in this thing were they guiltless—Thro' the palace strode knight Gawain,
And he looked on this side and the other, and he sought well the chamber o'er, 215
If to left or to right I know not, but he saw there an open door,
And wherever that door might lead him the hero was fain to go,
If high fame he might gain for his seeking, or die there a death of woe!

So stepped he within the chamber, and behold! the shining floor,
As glass it lay smooth beneath him, and the Lit-Merveil he saw, 220
The wonder-couch; and beneath it four rollers as crystal clear,
And fashioned of fire-red rubies: as the swift wind afar and near
Did it speed o'er the shining pavement, no floor might fairer be,
Chrysolite, sardius, jasper, inwrought there the eye might see.
For so had Klingsor willed it, and the thought it was his alone, 225
From far-off lands his magic had brought to the Burg each stone.

So smooth 'neath his feet the pavement, scarce might be his footing hold,
Then fain would he seek the venture, but, so is the marvel told,
As ever he stood before it the couch from its station fled,
And swift as the winds of heaven o'er the glittering floor it sped. 230
(And Gawain he found all too heavy the shield that his hand gripped fast,
And yet did his host give counsel it should ne'er on one side be cast.)
Thought Gawain, 'Now, how may I reach thee, since still thou dost fly from me?
Methinks thou shalt have a lesson, it may be I may spring to thee!'
Then still stood the couch before him, and straight from the ground he leapt 235
And stood firm in the midst of the marvel, and again o'er the floor it swept,
And hither and thither turning in the four walls its goal it found,
And blow upon blow fell swiftly, till the Burg echoed back the sound.

And many a charge did he ride there, with crash, as of thunder-cloud,
Or as trumpeters blow together when their blasts thro' the hall ring loud, 240
And the one vieth with the other, and each for a fair prize blows.
Less loud should have been their tumult than the tumult that there arose!
And waken and watch must Sir Gawain, altho' on a bed he lay.
How best might the hero guard him? The noise he was fain to stay,
And his head with his shield he covered—There he lay, and would wait His will 245
Who hath help in His power, and helpeth all those who entreat Him still,
And shutteth His ear to no man who in sorrow for aid doth pray.
And the man who is wise and steadfast, as dawneth his sorrow's day,
Doth call on the hand of the Highest, that shall ne'er be too short to reach,
And the aid that shall meet their lacking He sendeth to all and each. 250
And so was it now with Gawain—Thro' Whose grace he had gotten fame,
He called on His power and His mercy to shelter him here from shame.

Then stilled for a space the clamour—The couch stood within the hall,
And an equal space had they measured from its station to either wall.
Yet now waxed his peril greater, for five hundred missiles, swung 255
With craft from hands yet hidden, were against Sir Gawain flung.
And they fell on the couch as he lay there; but the shield it was hard and new,
And it sheltered him well, and I think me of the blows did he feel but few.
And the stones were as river pebbles, so heavy, and hard, and round,
And in many a place on the surface of the shield might their trace be found. 260

At length was the stone-shower ended, and never before he knew
Such sharp and such heavy missiles as those which toward him flew.
For now full five hundred cross-bows were bended, their bolts they sped,
And each one was aimed at the hero as he lay on the Wonder-Bed.
(And he who hath faced such peril in sooth he of darts may tell:) 265
Yet their wrath was soon spent, and silence for awhile on the chamber fell.
And he who would seek for comfort he ne'er on such couch should lie!
Little solace or rest may he find there, but peace from his face shall fly!
And youth would wax grey and agèd, if such comfort should be its share
As fell to the lot of Gawain, when he lay on that couch so fair. 270
Yet nor weariness nor terror had weakened or hand or heart,
Tho' the stones and the bolts of the cross-bow had done on his limbs their part,
And spite of both shield and corslet, sore bruisèd and cut was he:
And he thought that, this peril ended, the venture should ended be—
But yet with his hand must he battle, and the prize of the victor win, 275
For a doorway e'en now flew open, and one trode the hall within;
And the man was a mighty peasant, and fearful of face, and grim,
And the hide of the grey sea-otter was his covering on head and limb,
And his hosen were wide, and he carried a club in his strong right hand,
And 'twas thicker I ween than a pitcher that round-bellied doth firmly stand. 280

So came he unto Sir Gawain, (and his coming it pleased him ill,)
Yet he thought, 'He doth bear no harness, mine arms shall withstand him still,'
Upright on the couch he sat him, as nor terror nor pain he knew,
And the peasant, as he would flee him, a space from the bed withdrew,
And he cried in a voice so wrathful, 'From me hast thou naught to fear, 285
Yet such peril I'll loose upon thee that thy life must thou buy full dear;
The devil himself doth aid thee, else wert thou not still in life,
Bethink thee, for death cometh swiftly, and the ending of all thy strife,
No more can the devil shield thee, that I tell thee ere hence I pass!'
Then he gat him once more thro' the doorway, and Gawain gripped his sword-hilt fast, 290
And the shafts did he smite asunder of the arrows that thro' his shield
Had passed, and had pierced his armour, nor yet to his hand would yield.

Then a roar, as of mighty thunder, on the ear of Gawain did fall,
As when twenty drums were sounding to dance in the castle hall.
Then the hero, so firm and dauntless, whose courage ne'er felt the smart 295
Of the wounds that cowardice pierceth, thought thus in his steadfast heart:
'What evil shall now befall me? Must I yet more sorrow know?
For sorrow enow have I seen here, yet here will I face my foe!'
He looked toward the peasant's doorway, and a mighty lion sprang thro',
And its size was e'en that of a warhorse, and straight on Gawain it flew. 300
But Gawain he was loth to fly here, and his shield he held fast before,
As best for defence should serve him, and he sprang down upon the floor.
And the lion was hunger-ravening, yet little should find for food,
Tho' raging it sprang on the hero, who bravely its rush withstood.

The shield it had near torn from him, with the first grip its talons fierce 305
It drave thro' the wood, such hardness but seldom a beast may pierce.
Yet Gawain did right well defend him, his sword-blade aloft he swung,
And on three feet the beast must hold him, while the fourth from the shield yet hung.
And the blood gushed forth on the pavement, and Gawain he firmer stood,
And the fight raged hither and thither, as the lion, on the hero good, 310
Sprang ever with snorting nostrils, and gleaming fangs and white—
And if on such food they had reared it, that its meat was a gallant knight,
I had cared not to sit beside it! Nor such custom pleased Gawain well,
Who for life or for death must fight it—and the strife ever fiercer fell.

So sorely the beast was wounded, the chamber with blood ran o'er; 315
Fierce sprang the lion upon Gawain, and would bear him unto the floor,
But Gawain a sword-thrust dealt him, thro' the heart the swift blade sped
Till his hand smote full on the breast-bone, and the lion at his feet fell dead.
And now all the deadly peril and the conflict was over-past—
In the same hour Gawain bethought him, 'Where now shall my lot be cast? 320
Since to sit in this blood I like not, and I must of the couch beware,
For it runneth a race so frantic 'twere foolish to sit me there!'

But yet was his head so deafened with the blows that upon him fell,
And many his wounds, and the life-blood did forth from its fountains well,
And his strength waxed faint, and it left him, and he fell on the chamber floor; 325
His head lay on the lion's body, and the shield might he hold no more.
And if wisdom and power were his portion, of the twain was he reft I ween,
And tho' fair was the Burg, yet within it full rough had his handling been.

His senses forsook him wholly—no such pillow I ween was his
As that which on Mount Ribbelé Gymele gave to Kahenis; 330
Both fair and wise was the maiden—and his honour he slept away—
But here honour ran swift-footed to Gawain as he prostrate lay.
For in sooth ye shall well have hearkened, and shall know how such chance befell,
That thus lay the hero lifeless, from the first have ye heard it well.

Then in secret one looked upon him, and the chamber with blood was red, 335
And the lion alike and the hero they lay as the twain were dead.
'Twas a fair and gracious maiden who saw thro' a loop-hole high,
And her face it grew wan, and the colour from her lips and her cheek must fly.
And youth was so heavy-hearted that old age sore must mourn her tale.
Yet Arnivé was wise, and her wisdom did here o'er the woe prevail, 340
And still for this deed must I praise her, she drew near to aid Gawain,
And from peril of death she freed him who freedom for her would gain.

Then herself she was fain to behold him, and they gazed thro' the window small,
And naught might they tell, those women, of what waited them in the hall.
Was it news of a joyful future? Or of woe that should last for aye? 345
And the queen's heart it sore misgave her that the hero had died that day,
(And the thought brought her grief and sorrow,) since he sought him no better bed,
But silent he lay, and rested on the corse of the lion his head.
And she spake, 'From my heart I mourn thee, if thy manhood so true and brave
Hath won thee no better guerdon, and thy life thou hast failed to save. 350
If death here hath been thy portion for our sake, who shall strangers be,
And thy truth to such fate hath brought thee, then for ever I'll mourn for thee.
And thy virtue I'll praise, tho' the counting of thy years I may never know!'
And she spake to the weeping women, as they looked on the knight laid low,
'Ye maids who shall be baptizèd, and by water have won a place 355
In God's kingdom, pray ye unto Him, that He show to this hero grace!'

Then she sent below two maidens, and she bade them to seek Gawain,
And softly draw nigh unto him, nor pass from his side again
Till they brought her full assurance how it went with the gallant knight,
If perchance he should yet be living, or had found his death in fight. 360
So she gave to the twain commandment—Did they weep those maidens fair?
Yea, both must weep full sorely for the grief that was here their share,
When they found the hero lying, for his wounds they ran with blood
Till the shield in blood was swimming—then they bent o'er the hero good,
And with gentle hand the helmet one loosened from off his head, 365
And she saw a light foam gathered upon his lips so red,
And she waited a space and hearkened, if perchance she might hear his breath,
For but now had she thought him living, yet she deemed it might well be death.
And his over-dress was of sable, and the mystic beasts it bore,
Such as Ilinot the Breton as his badge with great honour wore. 370
(And courage and fame were his portion from his youth till his dying day.)
From the coat with her ready fingers the sable she tore away,
And she held it before his nostrils, for thus might she better know
If yet he should live, since his breathing would stir the hair to and fro.

And the breath was yet there, and straightway she bade her companion bring 375
Fair water, the gentle maiden did swift on her errand spring.
Then the maid placed her ring so golden betwixt his teeth closed fast,
And deft was her hand in the doing, and between his lips she passed,
Drop by drop, e'en as he might take it, the water, and little space
Ere he lifted once more his eyelids, and he looked on the maiden's face. 380
And he thanked them, those two sweet children, and offered them service meet—
Alas! that ye here should find me, unseemly laid at your feet!
If ye will on this chance keep silence, for good will I count the deed,
And courtesy shall ye honour if ye give to my words good heed!'

Quoth the maid, 'Thou hast lain, and thou liest, as one who the prize doth hold, 385
In sooth thou art here the victor and in joy shall thy life wax old,
To-day is thy day of triumph! But comfort us now I pray,
Is it so with thy wounds that, naught fearing, we may joy in thy joy to-day?'
Then he quoth, 'Would ye see me living, then help shall ye bring to me.'
And he prayed of those gracious maidens that a leech to his wounds should see, 390
Or one who was skilled in healing, 'But if yet I must face the strife,
Go ye hence, give me here my helmet, and gladly I'll guard my life!'
But they spake, 'Nay, the strife is over, Sir Knight, send us not away,
Yet one shall go, and the guerdon of messenger win straightway.
To the four queens shall she betake her, and shall say that thou livest still, 395
And a chamber shall they prepare thee, and leechcraft with right goodwill,
And with salves shall thy wounds be tended, and so mild shall their working be
That thy pain shall be swiftly lessened, and healing be brought to thee!'
Then one of the maids sprang swiftly, and she ran with no halting tread,
With the news that the knight was living straightway to the court she sped. 400
'In sooth shall he be so living, if ever it be God's will,
Rich in joy may we be henceforward and glad without fear of ill,
For naught but good help he needeth,' 'Dieu Merci!' then quoth they all.
Then the old queen wise her maidens did straightway around her call,
And she bade them a bed prepare him, and a carpet she spread before, 405
And a fire on the hearth burnt brightly, and precious the salves they bore.
And the queen with wisdom mixed them for the healing of cut or bruise.
In that hour from among her women four maids did Arnivé choose,
And she bade them disarm the hero, and his harness bear soft away,
And with wisdom should they deal with him lest he feel himself shamed alway. 410
'A silk shall ye bear about ye, in its shadow the knight disarm,
If yet he can walk he may do so, if else, bear him in your arms
To where I by the bed await him, for his couch will I rightly care,
If the strife in such wise hath fallen that no deadly wound he bear,
Then I think me I soon may heal him, but if wounded he be to death 415
Then cloven our joy—with the hero are we slain tho' we yet draw breath!'

And all this was done as she bade them, disarmed was the knight Gawain,
Then they led him where help they gave him who well knew to ease his pain.
And of wounds did they find full fifty, or perchance they were even more,
But the darts had not pierced too deeply since ever his shield he bore. 420
Then the queen in her wisdom took her warm wine, and a sendal blue,
And Dictam, the herb of healing, and she wiped with her hand so true
The blood from his wounds, and she closed them, and the flow of the life-blood stayed.
And wherever his helm was indented the stones on his head had made
Sore bruises, yet they must vanish 'fore the salves and their healing power, 425
And the master-skill of Arnivé who tended him in that hour!

And she quoth, 'Ease I well may give thee, whiles Kondrie doth come to me,
And all help that may be in leechcraft of her friendship she telleth free.
Since Anfortas so sore doth suffer, and they seek aid from far and near,
This salve shall from death have kept him, from Monsalväsch 'twas brought me here.' 430
When Gawain heard she spake of Monsalväsch, then in sooth was he glad at heart,
For he deemed it was near—Then this hero, who ne'er had in falsehood part,
Spake thus to the queen, 'Now, Lady, my senses that far were fled,
Hast thou won back again, and mine anguish I ween hast thou minishèd,
What of strength shall be mine, or of wisdom, I owe to thine hand alone, 435
Thy servant am I!' But the queen spake, 'Sir Knight, thou such faith hast shown
That we all must rejoice in thy welfare, and strive for it faithfully.
But follow my rede, nor speak much, a root will I give to thee
That shall win thee refreshing slumber, thou shalt care not for drink or meat
Till the night, then such food I'll bring thee thou shalt need not ere morn to eat.' 440

Then a root 'twixt his lips she laid there, and straightway he fell asleep,
And throughout the day he slumbered, and in coverings they happed him deep.
Rich in honour and poor in shaming, soft and warm, there in peace he lay,
Yet he sneezed, and at whiles he shivered, for the salve wrought on him alway.
And a company of fair women passed within and without the door, 445
And fair was the light of their faces, and stately the mien they bore.
And she bade them, the Queen Arnivé, that silence they all should keep,
None should call, and no maiden answer, so long as the knight should sleep.
And she bade them fast close the palace, nor burger, nor squire, nor knight,
Should hear what had there befallen till the dawn of the morning light. 450

But new sorrow drew nigh to the women—The knight slept till even grey,
Then Arnivé the queen in her wisdom drew the root from his lips away.
And straightway he woke, and he thirsted, and they brought him of drink and meat,
And he raised himself and, rejoicing, as they brought him so would he eat:
And many a maid stood before him, such fair service he ne'er had known, 455
So courteous their mien and bearing—then he looked at them one by one
And he gazed at each and the other, yet still his desire was set
On the lady Orgelusé, for ne'er saw he woman yet,
In all the days of his lifetime, who so near to his heart did lie;
Tho' many his prayer had hearkened, and some did their love deny! 460
Then out spake the gallant hero to Arnivé, his leech so wise,
'Lady, 'twill ill beseem me, nor deal I in courteous guise,
If these ladies stand here before me, I would they might seated be,
Or if such be thy will it were better shouldst thou bid them to eat with me!'
'Nay, Sir Knight, none I ween may sit here save I, the queen, alone, 465
And shamed would they surely hold them were such service not gladly done,
For our joy shalt thou be; yet I think me that if this be thy will indeed,
Whate'er shall be thy commandment, we will give to thy words good heed.'
But nobly born were those ladies, and their courtesy did they show,
For all with one voice they prayed him he would e'en let the thing be so, 470
And while he should eat they would stand there; so waited they on the guest
And passed hence when the meal was ended and Gawain was laid to rest.

BOOK XII
EIDEGAST

ARGUMENT

In Book XII. the poet recounts the valiant deeds done by Gawain's kinsmen for love's sake, and how they were as naught to the perils dared by Gawain.

Of the watch-tower in the castle, and the magic pillar, and how Gawain beheld the coming of Orgelusé and her knight.

How Gawain fought with and overcame the Turkowit, and how he was urged by Orgelusé's mockery to the venture of the Perilous Ford. How he plucked a bough from a tree guarded by King Gramoflanz, and was challenged by that monarch to single combat. Of the repentance of Orgelusé, and her reconciliation with Gawain, and how both were welcomed by the dwellers in Château Merveil. How Gawain secretly sent a squire to the court of King Arthur bidding him, his knights and ladies, to Ioflanz to witness the combat between Gawain and Gramoflanz.

BOOK XII

EIDEGAST

Now he who his rest had broken, if rest he perchance might win,
Methinks they who hear the story had counted it him for sin.
For, e'en as the venture telleth, sore toil had the hero known,
And in sooth did he face such peril that his fame thro' all lands hath flown.
Lancelot on the sword-bridge battled, and Meljakanz must sue for grace, 5
Yet as naught was I ween his danger to the woe that Gawain must face.
And that which is told of Garel, the valiant and knightly king,
Who o'erthrew the lion 'fore the palace and made Nantes with his daring ring—
And he sought the knife too, Garel, but he paid for his deed full dear
In the pillar of marble—greater was the venture ye read of here! 10
For the darts that were shot against Gawain, as his manly courage bade,
For a mule were too great a burden if they all on its back were laid!
The Perilous Ford hath its dangers; and Erec must sorrow know,
When for Schoie-de-la-kurt he battled, and Mabonagrein would fain lay low,
Yet ne'er had he faced such peril as fell here to knight Gawain. 15
Nor Iwein, the gallant hero, who water would pour amain,
Nor feared of the stone the venture—Were these perils all knit in one,
He who knoweth to measure danger saith Gawain greater deeds had done!

What peril is this I tell of? If ye will, I the woe will name,
Or too early perchance the telling? Swift-foot Orgelusé came, 20
And straight to the heart of the hero hath she taken her silent way,
That heart that hath ne'er known trembling, that courage hath ruled alway.
And how came it so stately lady might hide in so small a space?
For narrow I ween was the pathway that led to her resting-place.
And all sorrow he knew aforetime was as nought to this bitter woe, 25
And a low wall it was that hid her when his heart did her presence know
In whose service he never faltered, but was watchful as he was true.
Nor find ye here food for laughter, that one who ne'er terror knew,
A hero so brave in battle, should yield to a woman's hand.
Alas! woe is me for the marvel that no man may understand! 30
And Frau Minne she waxeth wrathful 'gainst him who the prize hath won,
Yet dauntless and brave hath she found him, and shall find him, till life be done.
Who harm on a wounded foeman shall work doth his honour stain,
Yet in strength 'gainst his will did Love bind him, and it turnèd to him for gain.

Frau Minne, wouldst have men praise thee? Then this will I say to thee, 35
This strife shall be not to thine honour, since sore wounded Gawain shall be.
And ever throughout his life-days has he lived as thou didst command,
And he followed in this his father, and the men of his mother's land.
For they yielded thee loyal service since the days Mazadan was king,
Who Terre-de-la-Schoie from Fay-Morgan in thy service did gallant bring. 40
And this do men tell of his children, no man from his fealty fell.
And Ither of Gaheviess bare it, thy badge, and he served thee well;
And never in woman's presence did one speak of the hero's name
But their hearts yearned in love towards him, and they spake it, nor thought it shame,
How then when they looked upon him? Then the tale first was told aright! 45
Frau Minne, a faithful servant didst thou lose in that gallant knight!

Slay Gawain if thou wilt, as his cousin Ilinot by thine hand was slain,
Since thy power with the bitter torment of desire did the knight constrain,
Till he strove for the love of his lady all the days of his fair young life,
Florie of Kanedig was she, and he served her in many a strife. 50
And he fled from the land of his fathers in the days of his youth's unrest,
And was reared by this queen, and Britain ne'er saw him but as a guest.
And the burden of Love weighed on him, and from Florie's land he fled,
Till the day that in true love's service, as I told ye, men found him dead.
And often the kin of Gawain thro' love have known sorrow sore, 55
And of those by Frau Minne wounded could I name to ye many more.
And why did the snow and the blood-drops move Parzival's faithful heart?
'Twas his wife wrought the spell, I think me! Yea, others have known thine art,
Galoes and Gamuret hast thou vanquished, and in sooth hast thou laid them low,
And the twain for their true love's guerdon must the death of a hero know. 60
And Itonjé, Gawain's fair sister, must love Gramoflanz the king,
And grieve for her love; and sorrow, Frau Minne, thou once didst bring
On fair Surdamur and her lover: since thou sufferest not Gawain's kin
To seek them another service, so on him wouldst thou honour win!

Be mighty towards the mighty but here let Gawain go free, 65
His wounds they so sorely pain him, and the hale should thy foemen be!
But many have sung of love's working who never so knew love's power,
For myself, I would hold me silent—But true lovers shall mourn this hour
What chanced unto him of Norway, for the venture he faced right well,
And now, without help or warning, love's tempest upon him fell! 70

Quoth the hero, 'Alas, for restless my resting-place shall be,
One couch did so sorely wound me, and the other hath brought to me
Sore torment of love and longing! Orgelusé must favour show
Unto me her true knight and servant, or small joy shall my life-days know!'
As unresting he turned, and he stretched him, the bands from his wounds were torn, 75
So restless he lay and wakeful awaited the coming morn.
And at last the day shone on him, and many a battlefield
And sword-strife more rest had brought him than the rest which his couch might yield.

Would one liken his woe unto Gawain's, and be e'en such a lover true,
Of his love-wounds let him be healèd, and then smitten by darts anew, 80
And methinks he shall find that the sorrow and torment shall vex him more
Than all the sum of the sorrow he hath borne for love's sake before!

Nor love's torments alone vexed Gawain—Ever clearer it grew, the light,
Till dark seemed the lofty tapers that erstwhile had shone so bright.
Then up sprang from his couch the hero, and as blood, and as iron, red 85
With wounds, and with rust, was his linen, yet beside him he saw outspread
Hosen and shirt of woollen, and the change pleased our hero well,
And robes lined with fur of the marten, and a garment that o'er them fell,
(In Arras its stuff was woven, and from Arras 'twas hither sent,)
And boots had they lain beside it, none too narrow for his content. 90

In these garments anew he clothed him, and forth from the chamber went
Gawain, and hither and thither his steps thro' the palace bent,
Till he found the hall of his venture, no riches he e'er had known
To liken unto the glories within this fair castle shown.
And there at one side of the palace a narrow dome he found, 95
And it rose high above the building, and a staircase within it wound,
And above stood a shining pillar; nor of wood was it shapen fair,
But so large and so strong that the coffin of Kamilla it well might bear.
And Klingsor, the wise, he brought it from the kingdom of Feirefis,
And his cunning and skill had fashioned both the hall and the stair I wis! 100

No tent might so round be fashioned; did the Master Geometras will
To raise such a work he had failèd, for unknown to his hand the skill.
'Twas magic alone that wrought it—The venture it bids us know
Of diamond, amethyst, topaz, carbuncle with red-fire glow,
Of chrysolite, emerald, ruby, and sardius, the windows tall, 105
That each one like to the other encircled this wondrous hall.
And rich as the window columns, and carven, the roof o'erhead,
And herein was a greater marvel than all marvels ye yet have read;

For, the vault below, no pillar was like to that column fair
That stood in the midst of the circle, and wondrous the power it bare, 110
For so the venture telleth—Gawain fain would gaze around,
And alone did he climb the watch-tower, and precious the jewels he found.
And he saw there a greater wonder, and the sight never vexed his eye,
For he thought him upon the column all the lands of the earth did lie.
And he saw the countries circle, and the mighty mountains' crest 115
Meet, e'en as two hosts in battle, as one vision the other pressed.
And folk did he see in the pillar, and on horse or afoot they went,
They ran, and they stood: in a window he sat him on seeing bent.

Came the agèd Queen Arnivé, with Sangivé her child, and there
Were two maidens, the gentle daughters that Sangivé erewhile did bear. 120
And the four queens they came unto Gawain, and he saw them and sprang upright;
And thus quoth the Queen Arnivé, 'Methinks thou shouldst sleep, Sir Knight,
For though rest may no longer please thee, thou art wounded too sore, I trow,
That thou further toil and labour shouldst yet for a season know!'
Quoth the knight, 'Lady mine and my mistress, since thy wisdom hath brought to me 125
My wit, and my strength, all my lifetime thy servant I fain would be!'

Quoth the queen, 'If I so may read them, the words thou didst speak but now,
And thou ownest me as thy mistress, then Sir Knight, to my bidding bow,
And kiss at my will these ladies, as thou mayest, without thought of shame,
Since nor mother nor maid before thee but a kingly birth may claim!' 130
Then glad was Gawain at her bidding, and he kissed those ladies three,
And Sangivé was first, then Itonjé, and the third was the fair Kondrie.
And the five sat them down together, and Gawain saw those maidens twain,
Their face and their form so gracious, and he looked, and he looked again;
Yet one woman so worked upon him, for yet in his heart she lay, 135
That their beauty by Orgelusé's he deemed but a cloudy day.
For he held with the Lady of Logrois none other might well compare,
And his heart and his thoughts were captive to this lady so sweet and fair.

Now 'twas done, and Gawain had been greeted with a kiss by those ladies three,
And so fair were they all that I wot well their beauty would fatal be 140
To a heart that was yet unwounded—Then he spake to the elder queen,
And he prayed her to tell of the pillar, and the marvels he there had seen.

Quoth Arnivé, 'By day and by night-time that pillar, I ween, doth throw
Its light for six miles around it, so long as its power I know.
And all that within that circuit doth chance on its face we see, 145
In water, or on the meadow, and true shall the vision be.
The bird and the beast we see here, the guest and the woodman true,
He who to this land is a stranger, or its ways of aforetime knew.
Yea, all may we find within it, and it shineth for six miles round;
And so fast and so firm it standeth none moveth it from the ground, 150
And no hammer shall ever harm it, and no smith hath, I ween, the skill.
'Twas stolen from Queen Sekundillé, I think me, against her will!'

Now Gawain he saw at this moment on the column a goodly pair,
A knight with a lady riding, and he thought him the maid was fair,
And clearly and well he saw them—and armed were both steed and knight, 155
And his helmet was plumed and jewelled, and it gleamed in the morning light.
And they rode at a hasty gallop thro' the defile out on the plain:
Tho' I wot well he little knew it, yet they rode but to seek Gawain!

And they came by the self-same pathway that Lischois he rode afore,
The proud knight whom Gawain had vanquished, and in joust from his charger bore. 160
And the lady she held the bridle of the knight who to joust would ride,
And the sight to Gawain brought sorrow, and swiftly he turned aside,
And behold! 'twas no lying vision, for without on the grassy plain
By the river rode Orgelusé, and a knight at her side drew rein.
E'en as hellebore within the nostril pierceth sharp, and a man doth sneeze, 165
Thro' his eye to his heart came the Duchess, and she robbed him of joy and ease!

Alas! I wot well 'gainst Frau Minne all helpless shall be Gawain—
Then he looked on the knight who rode there, and he spake to the queen again,
'Lady, a knight I see there, who rideth with well-aimed spear,
Nor will cease from the goal he seeketh—Well! I ween he may find it here, 170
Since he craveth some deed of knighthood I am ready with him to fight,
But say, who shall be the maiden?' she quoth, ''Tis the lady bright
Who is Duchess and queen of Logrois,—Now 'gainst whom doth she bear ill-will?
For the Turkowit rideth with her, and unconquered shall he be still.
With his spear such fame hath he won him, as were riches for kingdoms three, 175
And against a hand so valiant 'twere best not to venture thee;
For strife is it all too early, and thou shalt be hurt too sore,
And e'en wert thou whole I should rede thee to strive with him nevermore!'
Quoth Gawain, 'If indeed I be lord here then he who so near shall seek
Deeds of knighthood, shall shame mine honour if vengeance I fail to wreak. 180
Since he lusteth for strife, O Lady, thou shalt give me mine armour here!'
Then the ladies, the four, bewailed them with many a bitter tear:
And they quoth, 'Wilt thou deck thy glory? wilt thou greater honour know?
Strive not now, shouldst thou fall before him then greater shall wax our woe.
But e'en if thou be the victor, if thou girdest thine harness on 185
Thou must die who so sore art wounded, and with thee are we all undone!'

Gawain, he was sorely anguished, and the cause have ye heard aright,
For he counted himself dishonoured by the coming of such a knight
And his wounds, they must sorely pain him, yet love's torment it vexed him more,
And the grief of these four fair ladies, and the love they towards him bore. 190
Then he bade them to cease from weeping, and harness and sword he craved,
And his charger; and those fair women they led forth the hero brave.
And he bade them go forth before him, and adown the steps they wind
To the hall where the other maidens so sweet and so fair they find.

Then Gawain for his perilous journey was armed 'neath the light of eyes 195
Tear-dimmed, and they secret held it, and none knew save the merchant wise.
And they bade him the steed make ready, and the hero he slowly stept
To the place where his charger waited—nor light on its back he leapt,
But scarcely his shield might he carry, for in sooth was he wounded sore.
And thro' centre and rim was it piercèd, and traces of battle bore! 200

Then again he bestrode his charger, and he turned from the Burg away,
And he rode to his host so faithful; and never he said him Nay,
But all that he asked he gave him, a spear both strong and new,
(Many such had, I ween, been his tribute from that plain where they jousted true,)
Then Gawain bade him ship him over, in a ferry they sought the shore, 205
And the Turkowit, who high courage and the thought of sure victory bore;
For so well against shame was he armèd that ill-deeds from before him fled,
And his fame was so high accounted, that they made of the sward their bed
Who would ride a joust against him—From their charger they needs must fall,
And of those who had faced his valour, his spear had o'erthrown them all. 210
And this was the rule of the hero, that by spear-thrust, and no sword-blade,
Would he win to him fame in battle, or his honour be prostrate laid.
And to him who should face his onslaught, and o'erthrow him, the self-same day
Would he yield, nor defend him further, but would give him his pledge straightway.

And thus heard Gawain the story from him who the pledge did hold, 215
For his pledge Plippalinòt took there, when the tale of the joust was told.
Did one fall while the other sat still, with goodwill of the heroes twain
Did he take that which one must forfeit, and the other methinks should gain,
Of the charger I speak, hence he led it, for he deemed they enough had fought.
Who was victor, and who the vanquished, from the Burg were the tidings brought, 220
For the women, they looked on the jousting, and many a conflict saw.
Then he bade Gawain seat him firmly, and the charger he led to shore,
And his shield and his spear he gave him—and the Turkowit swiftly came
As one who his joust can measure, nor too high nor too low his aim.
And Gawain turned his horse against him—of Monsalväsch, Gringuljet, 225
And it answered unto the bridle, and his spear 'gainst the foe he set.

Now forward!—the joust be ridden—Here rideth King Lot's fair son,
Undaunted his heart—Now know ye where the helm hath its fastening won?
For there did his foeman strike him; but Gawain sought another aim,
And swift thro' the helmet's visor with sure hand the spear-point came, 230
And plain to the sight of all men was the fate of the joust that day,
On his spear short and strong the helmet from his head Gawain bare away,
And onward it rode, the helmet! But the knight on the grass lay low,
Who was blossom and flower of all manhood till he met with such mighty foe.
But now he in joust was vanquished, and the jewels from his helm were seen 235
To vie with the dew on the herbage and the flowers on the meadow green.
And Gawain, he rode back unto him, and his pledge did he take that day,
And the boatman he claimed the charger, who was there should say him Nay?

Thou art joyful, and yet hast small reason,' spake the lady of Gawain's love,
(As of old were her words of mocking,) 'Since wherever thy shield doth move 240
The lion's paw doth follow—And thou thinkest fresh fame to gain
Since the ladies have looked on thy jousting—-Well thou mayst in thy bliss remain,
Since the Lit Merveil hath dealt gently and but little harm hath wrought!
And yet is thy shield all splintered as if thou hadst bravely fought—
Thou art doubtless too sorely wounded to yearn for a further fray? 245
And such ill to the 'Goose' be reckoned, that I called thee but yesterday.
So eager wert thou to vaunt thee, as a sieve hast thou piercèd thro'
Thy shield, one would deem it riddled with the darts that toward thee flew.
But to-day mayst thou well shun danger—If thy finger shall wounded be
Ride hence to the maids of the castle, for well will they care for thee! 250
Far other strife were his portion, to whom I a task would give,
Did thine heart yet yearn for my favour, and thou wouldst in my service live!'

Quoth Gawain to the Duchess, 'Lady, tho' deep were my wounds I trow
They ere this have found help and healing—If such help I from thee might know
That thou, gracious, wouldst own my service, no peril would be so great, 255
But I, for thy love and rewarding, the issue would gladly wait!'
Quoth she, 'Then shalt thou ride with me new honour perchance to gain!'
Then rich in all joy and contentment was that valiant knight Gawain—
And the Turkowit went with the boatman, and he bade him the tidings bear
To the Burg, and there pray the maidens to have of the knight good care. 260

And his spear it was yet unsplintered, tho' both horses they spurred amain
To joust, his right hand yet held it, and he bare it from off the plain.
And many a maiden saw him, and wept as he rode away.
Quoth Arnivé, 'Our joy and comfort hath chosen to him to-day
A joy for the eyes and a sorrow for the heart, yea, both flower and thorn, 265
Alas! that he rides with the Duchess, since he leaveth us here forlorn.
To the Perilous Ford he rideth, and his wounds sure shall work him ill!'
(Maids four hundred must weep for his going, yet new tasks would he fain fulfil.)

But yet tho' his wounds they pained him, his sorrow had taken flight
When he looked upon Orgelusé, so fair was her mien and bright. 270
Then she quoth, 'Thou shalt win me a garland of fresh leaves from off a tree,
And I for the gift will praise thee—If thou doest this deed for me
Thou shalt find in my love rewarding!' Then he quoth, 'Wheresoe'er it stand,
The tree that shall bring such blessing as reward unto this mine hand,
If I not in vain bemoan me, but win hearing for this my grief, 275
Then thy garland, tho' death it bring me, shall lack not a single leaf!'

And tho' many a blossom bloomed there yet their colour it was as naught
To the colour of Orgelusé, and Gawain on her beauty thought
Till it seemed him his grief of aforetime and his anguish had fled away—
And thus with her guest did she journey a space from the Burg that day, 280
And the road it was straight and easy, and it led thro' a forest fair,
And Tamris I ween and Prisein were the names that the trees did bear,
And the lord of the wood was Klingsor—Then Gawain the hero spake,
'Say, where shall that garland blossom which the spell of my grief shalt break?'

(In sooth he had best o'erthrown her, as oft shall have chanced I trow 285
To many a lovely lady.) Then she quoth, 'Thou shalt see the bough
Whose plucking shall win thee honour!' O'er the field ran a deep ravine,
And so near did they ride to the chasm that the tree from afar was seen.
Then she quoth, 'Now, Sir Knight, one guardeth that tree who my joy hath slain,
If thou bring me a bough from off it, no hero such prize shall gain 290
As from me shall be thy rewarding! And here must I hold my way,
Nor further may I ride with thee; but make thou no more delay,
God have thee in His safe keeping! Thine horse must thou straightway bring
To the gulf, and with sure hand urge it o'er the Perilous Ford to spring.'

So still on the plain she held her, and on rode the gallant knight, 295
And he hearkened the rush of water that had riven a path with might
Thro' the plain—it was deep as a valley, and no man its waves might ford;
Then Gawain spurred his steed towards it, and he sprung o'er the flood so broad,
And yet but the charger's fore-feet might light on the further side,
And they fell in the foaming torrent; and the lady in anguish cried, 300
For swift and wide was the water; yet Gawain he had strength enow,
Tho' heavy the weight of his armour, for he saw where there grew a bough
That hung o'er the foaming torrent, and he grasped it, for life was dear,
And he gained on the bank a footing, and he drew from the waves his spear.

Up and down the stream swam the charger, and Gawain to its aid would go, 305
Yet so swift was the rush of the water he followed with pain its flow,
For heavy I ween his harness, and his wounds they were deep and sore:
Then he stretched out his spear as a whirlpool bare the charger towards the shore—
For the rain and the rush of the waters had broken a passage wide,
And the bank at the place was shelving, and the steed swept towards the side— 310
And he caught with the spear its bridle, and drew it towards the land
Till the hero at last might reach it and lay on the rein his hand.

And Gawain, the gallant hero, drew his horse out upon the plain,
And the steed shook itself in safety, nor the torrent as prize might gain
The shield—Then he girt his charger, and the shield on his arm he took: 315
And if one weepeth not for his sorrow methinks I the lack may brook,
Tho' in sooth was he in sore peril—For love he the venture dared,
For the fair face of Orgelusé, his hand to the bough he bared.
And I wot, 'twas a gallant journey, and the tree it was guarded well,
He was one, were he twain, for that garland his life must the payment tell. 320
King Gramoflanz, he would guard it, yet Gawain he would pluck the bough.
The water, men called it Sabbins, and the tribute was harsh enow
That Gawain would fetch when both charger and knight did the wild waves breast.
Tho' the lady was fair, I had wooed not! To shun her methinks were best.

When Gawain erst the bough had broken and its leaves in his helm did wave, 325
Uprode a knight towards him, and his bearing was free and brave.
Nor too few were his years nor too many; and in this he his pride had shown,
What evil so e'er befell him he fought not with one alone,
Two or more must they be, his foemen! So high beat his gallant heart,
That whate'er one might do to harm him unscathed might he thence depart. 330
To Gawain this son of King Irôt a fair 'good-morrow' gave,
'Twas King Gramoflanz—'To the garland that doth there in thine helmet wave
I yield not my claim!' thus quoth he, 'Sir Knight, were ye two I trow,
Who here for high honour seeking had reft from my tree a bough,
I had greeted ye not, but had fought ye, but since thou alone shalt be, 335
Thou canst ride hence, for strife unequal I deem it a shame to me!'

And Gawain, too, was loth to fight him, for no armour the king did wear,
And naught but a yearling falcon he did on his white hand bear.
(And the sister of Gawain gave it, Itonjé the maid was hight.)
His headgear in Sinzester fashioned was of peacock's plumage bright, 340
And green as grass was the mantle of velvet that wrapped him round,
And with ermine lined, and on each side it swept even unto the ground.

None too tall yet strong was the charger on which the king did ride,
From Denmark by land they brought it, or it came o'er the waters wide.
And the monarch he rode unarmèd, nor even a sword would bear. 345
Quoth King Gramoflanz, 'Thou hast foughten, if thy shield may the truth declare,
For but little unharmed remaineth, and it seemeth sure to me
That the "Lit Merveil" was thy portion, and this venture hath fallen to thee!'

'Now hast thou withstood the peril that myself I were fain to dare,
Had not Klingsor been ever friendly, and warfare with her my share 350
Who in Love's strife is ever victor, since her beauty doth win the day;
And she beareth fierce wrath against me, and in sooth hath she cause alway!
Eidegast have I slain, her husband, and with him I slew heroes four;
Orgelusé herself, as my captive, I thence to my kingdom bore,
And my crown and my land would I give her, yet what service my hand might yield, 355

Of all would she naught, but with hatred her heart 'gainst my pleading steeled.
And a whole year long I held her, and a whole year long I prayed,
Yet never she hearkened to me, and ever my love gainsaid.
And thus from my heart I bemoan me, since I know that her love to thee
She hath promised, since here I meet thee, and death wouldst thou bring to me. 360
If with her thou hadst hither ridden, perchance had I here been slain,
Or perchance ye had died together—such guerdon thy love might gain!'

'And my heart other service seeketh, and mine aid lieth in thine hand,
Since here thou hast been the victor thou art lord o'er this wonder-land;
And if thou wilt show me kindness help me now a fair maid to win 365
For whose sake my heart knoweth sorrow, to King Lot is she near of kin,
And no maiden of all earth's maidens hath wrought me such grief and pain!
Her token I bear—I prithee, if thou seest that maid again
Swear thou to her faithful service—I think me she means me fair,
And for her sake I fight, for her favour I many a peril dare; 370
For since with true words Orgelusé her love hath denied to me,
Wherever for fame I battled, whate'er might my portion be,
Of joy or of grief, she hath caused it, Itonjé, for whom I fight,
Yet alas! I have ne'er beheld her! Now do me this grace, Sir Knight,
If aid thou art fain to give me, then take thou this golden ring, 375
And unto my lovely lady, I prithee, the token bring.
Thou art free from strife, I fight not till thou bring with thee two or more.
What honour were mine if I slew thee? I ever such strife forbore!'

'Yet in sooth I can well defend me, as a man should,' quoth knight Gawain,
'Thou thinkest small fame will it bring thee if I here at thine hand be slain, 380
But what honour shall I have won me by breaking this bough, I pray?
For none will account it glory if I slay thee unarmed to-day!
But yet will I do thy message—Give me here the finger-ring,
And thy sorrow of heart, and thy service, I will to thy lady bring.'
Then the king he thanked him freely—But Gawain he quoth in this wise, 385
'Now tell me, Sir Knight, who may he be who doth conflict with me despise?'

'An thou count it me not for dishonour,' quoth the king, 'here my name be told,
King Irôt he was my father, who was slain by King Lot of old.
And King Gramoflanz do men call me, and my heart doth such valour know
That never, for evil done me, will I fight with but one for foe, 390
Saving one man alone, hight Gawain, of him have I heard such fame
That to fight with him I am ready, and vengeance from him I claim.
For his father he dealt with treason, in fair greeting my father slew,
Good cause have I here for mine anger and the words that I speak are true.
Now dead is King Lot, and Gawain, his fame o'er all knights stands high 395
Of the Table Round, and I yearn still till the day of our strife draw nigh.'

Then out quoth King Lot's son dauntless, 'Wouldst pleasure thy lady still,
If indeed she shall be thy lady, and dost speak of her father ill?
And reckonest to him false treason, and her brother art fain to slay!
Then indeed must she be false maiden if she mourn not thy deeds alway! 400
If true daughter she were, and sister, for the twain would she surely speak,
And forbid thee, methinks, thine hatred on kinsmen so near to wreak.
If so be that thy true love's father hath broken his troth, yet thou
Shouldst, as kinsman, avenge the evil that men spake of the dead, I trow!
His son will not fear to do so, and little methinks he'll care 405
If small aid in his need he findeth from the love of his sister fair.
He, himself, will be pledge for his father, and his sin be upon my head,
For Sir King, I who speak am Gawain, and thou warrest not with the dead!
But I, from such shame to free him, what honour be mine or fame,
In strife will I give to the scourging ere thou slander my father's name!' 410

Quoth the king, 'Art thou he whom I hated with a hatred as yet unstilled?
For alike with both joy and sorrow thy valour my soul hath filled.
And one thing in thee doth please me, that at last I may fight with thee,
And I rede thee to wit that great honour in this hast thou won from me,
Since I vowed but to fight with thee only—And our fame shall wax great alway, 415
If many a lovely lady we bring to behold the fray.
For I can bring fifteen hundred, and thou art of a fair host king
At Château Merveil; and on thy side thine uncle can others bring
From the land that he rules, King Arthur, and Löver its name shall be,
And the city is Bems by the Korka, as well shall be known to thee. 420
There lieth he now with his vassals, and hither can make his way,
In eight days, with great joy; so I bid thee to meet me the sixteenth day,
When I come, for my wrong's avenging, to Ioflanz upon the plain,
And the pay for this garland's plucking I there from thine hand shall gain!'

Then King Gramoflanz prayed of Gawain to ride unto Rosche Sabbin, 425
'For nearer methinks than the city no way o'er the flood thou'lt win!'
But out quoth the gallant Gawain, 'I will back e'en as erst I came,
But in all else thy will I'll follow.' Then they sware them by their fair fame
That with many a knight and lady at Ioflanz they'ld meet for strife
On the chosen day, and alone there would battle for death or life. 430

And on this wise Gawain he parted for awhile from the noble knight,
And joyful he turned his bridle, and the bough decked his helm so bright.
And he checked not his steed, but spurred it to the edge of the gulf once more,
Nor Gringuljet missed his footing, but he sprang well the chasm o'er,
And he fell not again, the hero—Then the lady she turned her rein 435
As he sprang to the ground, and tightened the girths of his steed again,
And swiftly to give him welcome, I ween, she to earth did spring,
And low at his feet she cast her, and she spake, 'I such need did bring
Upon thee, Sir Knight, as I wot well was more than thy worth might ask,
And yet have I felt such sorrow, for the sorrow of this thy task, 440
And the service that thou hast done me, as I deem she alone doth know
Who loveth in truth, and, faithful, doth weep o'er her lover's woe!'

Then he quoth, 'Is this truth, and thy greeting be not falsehood in friendly guise,
Then thyself dost thou honour, Lady! For in this shall I be so wise
That I know a knight's shield claimeth honour, and thou didst against knighthood sin, 445
For so high doth it stand that from no man methinks doth he mocking win,
Who as true knight hath ever borne him—This, Lady, I needs must say,
Whoever had looked upon me had known me for knight alway,
Yet knighthood thou wouldst deny me when first thou my face didst see,
But henceforth that may rest—Take this garland I won at thy will for thee, 450
But I bid thee henceforth beware thee that never thy beauty bright
Shall again in such wise mislead thee to dishonour a gallant knight,
For I wot, ere such scorn and mocking again at thine hand I bore,
Thy love thou shouldst give to another, I would ask for it nevermore!'

Then she spake as she wept full sorely, that lady so sweet and fair, 455
'Sir Knight, did I tell unto thee the woe that my heart doth bear,
Thou wouldst own that full sore my sorrow—If I shall discourteous be,
Then he whom I wrong may forgive me of true heart with forgiveness free.
For of such joy no man can rob me as the joy that I lost awhile
In that knight of all knights the bravest, Eidegast, who knew naught of guile! 460
So brave and so fair my true love, his fame was as sunlight's ray,
And for honour he strove so truly that all others, in this his day,
Both here and afar, born of woman, they owned that his praise stood high
O'er that of all men, and no glory might e'er with his glory vie.
A fountain, for aye upspringing, of virtue, his gallant youth, 465
And falsehood ne'er shamed his honour nor darkened the light of truth.
Into light came he forth from the darkness, and his honour aloft he bore,
That none who spake word of treason might reach to it evermore.
From the root in a true heart planted it waxed and it spread amain,
Till he rose o'er all men as Saturn doth high o'er the planets reign. 470
And true as the one-horned marvel, since the truth I am fain to tell,
The knight of my love and desiring,—for whose fate maids may weep full well,
Thro' its virtue I ween it dieth—And I, I was as his heart,
And my body was he! Ah! woe is me, that I must from such true love part!
And King Gramoflanz, he slew him, the knight thou but now didst see, 475
And the bough thou hast brought unto me from the tree of his ward shall be.'

'Sir Knight, did I ill-entreat thee, I did it for this alone,
I would prove if thine heart were steadfast, and my love might to thee atone.
I know well my words did wound thee, yet they were but to prove thee meant,
And I pray thee, of this thy goodness, be thine anger with pity blent, 480
And forgive me the ill I did thee. I have found thee both brave and true,
As gold that is tried in the furnace shineth forth from the flame anew,
So, methinks, doth it shine, thy courage. He, for whose harm I brought thee here,
As I thought me afore, and I think still, his valour hath cost me dear.'

Quoth Gawain, 'If awhile death spare me, such lesson I'll read the king 485
As shall put to his pride an ending, and his life in sore peril bring.
My faith as a knight have I pledged him, hereafter, a little space,
To meet him in knightly combat, nor our manhood shall we disgrace.
And here I forgive thee, Lady, and if thou wilt not disdain
My counsel so rough, I'll tell thee wherewith thou mayst honour gain, 490
What shall 'seem thee well as a woman, nor in aught shall unfitting be,
Here we twain are alone, I pray thee show favour and grace to me!'
But she quoth, 'In an arm thus mail-clad but seldom I warmly lay;
Yet would I not strive against thee, thou shalt on a fitting day
Win rewarding for this thy service—Thy sorrow will I bemoan, 495
Till thou of thy wounds art healèd and all thought of thine ill be flown;
To Château Merveil I'll ride with thee.' 'Now waxeth my joy indeed!'
Quoth the hero, of love desirous, and he lifted her on her steed,
And close clung his arm around her: 'twas more than she deemed him worth
When first by the spring she saw him, and mocked him with bitter mirth. 500

Then joyful Gawain he rode hence; yet the lady she wept alway,
And he mourned with her woe, and he prayed her the cause of her grief to say,
And in God's Name to cease from weeping! Then she quoth, 'I must mourn, Sir Knight,
Because of the hand that slew him, the knight of my love, in fight;
For that deed to my heart brought sorrow, tho' I naught but delight had known 505
When Eidegast's love rejoiced me; yet was I not so o'erthrown
But since then I might seek his mischief, whatever the cost might be,
And many fierce jousts have been ridden that were aimed at his life by me.
And here, methinks, canst thou aid me, and avenge me on him, my foe,
And repay me for this sore sorrow that my heart doth for ever know.' 510

'For the winning his death I took gladly the service he proffered me,
A king, who of earthly wishes the master and lord should be,
Sir Knight, he was named Anfortas—As his love-pledge to me he sent
That which standeth without thy portals, from Tabronit it came, that tent,
And great I ween is its value—But alas! for that gallant king, 515
Such reward did he win in my service as all joy to an end must bring
Where fain I my love had given, there must I fresh sorrow know,
For bitter indeed was his guerdon!—As great, or e'en greater, woe
Than the death of Eidegast brought me, was my lot thro' Anfortas' fate.
Now say, how shall I, of all women most wretched, in this estate, 520
If my heart yet be true, be other than of senses and mind distraught,
Yea, at times have I been beside me when I on Anfortas thought;
After Eidegast did I choose him, my avenger and love to be—
Now hearken and hear how Klingsor won that booth thou erewhile didst see:
When it fell so the brave Anfortas, who this token had sent to me, 525
Was of love and of joy forsaken, then I feared lest I shamed should be;
For Klingsor, such power he wieldeth by the force of his magic spell,
That maiden or man to his purpose can he force as shall please him well.
All gallant folk that he seeth, unharmed may they ne'er go free—
Thus my riches to him I proffered, if so be he sware peace with me. 530
And he that should brave the venture, and he that should win the prize,
To him I my love should offer; but if so be that in his eyes
My love were a thing unworthy, the booth should be mine again.
But now hast thou done my bidding, and it falleth unto us twain;
And 'twas sworn in the ears of many, for thereby I hoped to lure 535
My foe (yet in this I failèd) for the strife he might ne'er endure.'

'Now courtly and wise is Klingsor; for his honour it pleased him well
That many a deed of knighthood, at my will, in his land befell,
By the hand of my valiant servants, with many a thrust and blow.
All the week, every day as it passes, and the weeks into years do grow, 540
My troops in their changing order beset him by night and day,
For at great cost my snares so cunning for Gramoflanz did I lay.
And many have striven with him, yet must him as victor own;
Yet I still for his life am thirsting, and at last shall he be o'erthrown.
And some were too rich for my payment, and but for my love would serve, 545
Then I bid them for that do me service, but reward did they ne'er deserve.'

'And never a man beheld me but his service I swiftly won,
Save one, and he bare red armour; to my folk he much ill had done,
For hither he rode from Logrois, and he there did my knights o'erthrow
In such wise that they fell before him, and it pleased me but ill I trow. 550
And, between Logrois and thy meadow, five knights they followed fair,
And he cast them to earth, and their chargers the boatman from thence must bear.
Then as he my knights had vanquished, I myself did the hero pray
For my love and my land to serve me, but naught would that red knight say,
Save he had a wife who was fairer, and should aye to his heart be dear. 555
Then wroth was I at his answer, and the name of his wife would hear:
"Wouldst thou know the name of my chosen?—She reigneth at Pelrapär,
And Parzival all men call me, and naught for thy love I care,
Other sorrow the Grail doth give me!" Then in anger he rode away;
Now, I prithee, here give me counsel, if evil I did that day, 560
When I, by heart-sorrow driven, proffered love to that gallant knight?
Should I count my fair fame dishonoured?' Quoth Gawain to that lady bright,
'A gallant knight is he, truly, who thus thy desire hath crossed,
Had he to thy bidding hearkened no fame thou thro' him hadst lost!'

Then Gawain, the courteous hero, and the lady his rein beside, 565
Gazed lovingly on each other—and so far on their way did ride,
That they drew anear to the castle, where the venture erewhile befell,
And they who looked forth might see them—-'Now, Lady, 'twould please me well
If thou do this thing that I ask thee, from all men my name withhold,
Which the knight who once stole my charger aloud in thine hearing told. 570
But do this that I say, if any shall pray thee to tell my name,
Say, "I know not the name of my true knight, none spake it when here he came."'
Then she quoth, 'I will keep it secret, since thou wouldst not 'twere spoken here.'
And the knight and the lovely lady they rode to the Burg anear.

Now the knights they had heard of the coming of one who, with valiant hand, 575
Faced the venture, and slew the lion, and the Turkowit dared withstand,
Yea, and had in fair joust o'erthrown him; and now on the flowery plain,
The meadow of strife, rode the hero, and they looked on the knight Gawain,
From the battlements could they see him; and the forces together draw;
And with ringing blast of trumpet they pass thro' the castle door, 580
And rich banners on high were tossing, and their steeds o'er the plain they flew,
And he deemed that they came for battle, so swift they towards him drew.
As Gawain from afar might see them to the lady he spake again,
'Do they come here with thought of battle?' But she quoth, 'They are Klingsor's men,
From afar have they seen thy coming, and they ride their new lord to greet, 585
With joy would they bid thee welcome! Refuse not this honour meet,
Since 'tis gladness that doth constrain them.' There, too, in a vessel fair
Plippalinòt came to meet them, and his daughter with him did bear;
And swift o'er the flowery meadow the maiden towards them stept,
And joyful she hailed the hero for whom she aforetime wept. 590

Then Gawain gave her courteous greeting, and stirrup and foot she kissed,
And she turned her to Orgelusé, nor the lady her welcome missed.
And she prayed him to 'light from his charger the while that she held the rein,
And then to the ship she led them, the lady and knight Gawain;
And there, in the place of honour, a carpet and cushions lay, 595
And the Duchess by Gawain sat her, as the maiden the twain did pray.
And her office the maid forgat not, she disarmèd the hero there,
And in sooth it is said that the mantle she did for his robing bear
Which had served him that night for cover, when he did 'neath her rooftree lie,
And now was the hour for its wearing and it wrapped him right royally. 600
So clad was Gawain in her mantle, and his own robe beneath he wore,
And the harness he laid from off him on one side the maiden bore.

And now as they sat together for the first time the lady fair
Might look on his face and know him—Then unto the twain they bare
Two game-birds that well were roasted, and with them a flask of wine, 605
And two cakes did the maiden bring them on a cloth that was white and fine—
The birds were the prey of the falcon—but Gawain and his lady bright
Must seek water themselves, if to wash them ere they ate here should seem them right,
And this did the twain; and joyful was the knight that he now might eat
With her, for whose sake he would suffer joy, or sorrow, as seemed her meet. 610
And oft as the cup she gave him that her sweet lips had touched, anew
Sprang his joy that he thus drank with her, and his sorrow behind him drew,
And it halted nor might o'ertake him, and his gladness on swift foot sped,
So fair was her mouth and so rosy her lips that from grief he fled.

And no longer his wounds they pained him—Then the ladies from out the tower 615
They looked on the feast, and below them there rode in the self-same hour,
On the further side of the river, brave knights who would show their skill.
And the boatman alike and his daughter Gawain thanked with right goodwill,
Ere yet he might ferry them over, and the lady spake with him there,
For the food and the drink they had brought them—Then out quoth the lady fair, 620
'Now what hath that knight befallen, who yestreen, ere I rode away,
Was o'erthrown in a joust by another? Was he slain, or doth live alway?'

Quoth the boatman, 'He liveth, Lady, and he spake but this day with me,
He was given to me for his charger: if thy will be to set him free,
In his stead will I have the "swallow" that Queen Sekundillé sent 625
To Anfortas, be thine the hero, with the harp were I well content!'

'Both the harp and the other riches that the booth may within it hold,'
Quoth the lady, 'are his who sits here, he may give them, or aye withhold,
Let him do as he will! If he love me, Lischois he methinks will loose,
Nor freedom unto the other, my prince, will he here refuse. 630
Florand of Itolac is he, of my night-watch was he the chief,
And as he as Turkowit served me, so his sorrow shall be my grief!'

Quoth Gawain to his lovely lady, 'Ere it weareth to eventide
Thou shalt look on the twain in freedom!' Then they came to the further side,
And the Duchess, so fair to look on, he lifted upon her steed, 635
And many a noble horseman were waiting them on the mead,
And greeting fair they gave them; and they turned to the Burg again,
And joyful they rode around them and skilful they drew the rein,
And the Buhurd was fair to look on—What more shall I tell ye here?
Gawain, and his lovely lady, at the castle they found good cheer, 640
In such wise did the ladies greet them at Château Merveil that day,
And good fortune had here befallen that such bliss should be his alway.
Then Arnivé she straightway led him to a chamber, and they who knew
Of such lore his hurts they tended, and they bound up his wounds anew.

Quoth Gawain unto Arnivé, 'Give me, Lady, a messenger!' 645
Then straightway she sent a maiden, and the maid brought again with her
A footman, both true and manly, as behovèd him well to be.
And an oath did he swear unto Gawain, to serve him right faithfully,
And, were it for joy or for sorrow, his errand to secret hold
From all men, both there and elsewhere, till he came where it might be told. 650
Then they brought to him ink and parchment, and Gawain, King Lot's fair son,
Wrote clear with his hand the message, and thus did the writing run—
To them who abode in Löver's fair country, King Arthur brave
And his queen, with a faith unstainèd, true service and good he gave;
And he said, had he fame deservèd, and they would not his praise were slain, 655
They should come to his aid in his trouble, and show to him truth again,
And with following of knights and ladies to Ioflanz their way should wend,
Where he came himself, and his honour would in mortal strife defend.
And further, this thing he told them, the foemen on either side
Had pledged themselves in all honour and pomp to the field to ride; 660
And therefore he, Gawain, prayed them, both lady alike and knight,
If they bare goodwill towards him, with their king to behold the fight.
For so should it be to their honour. He commended him to them all
Who were of his service worthy, for the strife that should there befall!—

No seal did he put to the letter, yet token enough it bare 665
Of him who should be the writer. Quoth Gawain to the footman there,
'No longer shalt thou delay thee, the king and the queen abide
In the city of Bems by the Korka; seek the queen in the morning-tide
And the thing she shall bid thee, do thou. But this shalt thou secret hold,
That I in this land am master shall unto no ear be told. 670
Nor of this thing be thou forgetful, that thou shalt my servant be,
And do thou, without delaying, the errand I give to thee!'

Then the footman from thence he gat him, and Arnivé she softly went,
And she asked of him what was his errand? and whither his road was bent?
And he quoth, 'Nay, I may not tell thee, for an oath have I sworn to-day, 675
God keep thee, for I must ride hence!' To the army he took his way.

BOOK XIII
KLINGSOR

ARGUMENT

Book XIII. tells of the goodly feast that was holden in Château Merveil, and of the wedding of Gawain and Orgelusé. How Gawain's squire did his bidding; and how King Arthur and Queen Guinevere pledged themselves to ride to Ioflanz to behold the conflict between Gawain and Gramoflanz.

How Gawain fared in Château Merveil; and how Arnivé told him the history of Klingsor, and of his unlawful love.

Of the coming of King Arthur and his host; how they fought before Logrois; and came with great pomp to the plain of Ioflanz.

How Gawain and the dwellers in Château Merveil followed to the plain; of the goodly camp prepared for them; of the wonder of the court and Kay's jealousy; and how the four queens were made known to King Arthur.

BOOK XIII

KLINGSOR

Then wrathful, I ween, was Arnivé that the messenger said her Nay,
Nor told her aught of his errand, nor whither his journey lay.
And in this wise she quoth to the porter, 'Now, whatever the hour may be,
Be it day, be it night, when he cometh, send tidings thereof to me,
In secret would I speak with him; thou art wise, as full well I know!' 5
Yet wroth was she still with the footman—Then she would to the Duchess go,
And win from her lips the answer, but ready was she of wit,
And the name that he bare, her hero, her mouth spake no word of it.
Gawain he would have her silent, in her hearing his prayer found grace,
And she spake not, nor might Arnivé learn aught of his name and race. 10

Then the sound as of many trumpets thro' the hall of the palace rang,
And joyful the blasts—Then rich carpets around on each wall they hang,
And no foot but fell on a carpet would it tread on the palace floor,
A poor man had surely feared him for the riches that there he saw.
And many a couch they stood there, around the stately hall, 15
Soft were they as down, and rich cushions they laid upon each and all.

But Gawain with his toil was wearied, and he slept tho' the sun was high,
And his wounds, with such skill they bound them, tho' his love should beside him lie,
And he in his arms should hold her, he had gotten no hurt I ween.
And sounder his daylight's slumber than his sleep of the night had been 20
When his love had so sorely vexed him; he slept till the vesper bell,
Yet still in his sleep he battled for the lady he loved so well.
Then rich garments of fair silk fashioned, and heavy with broidered gold,
Did the chamberlain bear unto him—Then out quoth the hero bold,
'More robes such as these, and as costly, I ween, shalt thou hither bear, 25
For Gowerzein's Duke shall need them, and Florand, the hero fair,
For in many a land hath he battled, and hath won for him glory's meed—
Now see that thou make them ready, and do my behest with speed!'

Then he prayed, by a squire, the boatman send hither the captive knight,
And Lischois did he send at his bidding by the hand of his daughter bright. 30
And the maiden Bené brought him for the love that she bare Gawain,
And the good that he vowed to her father that morn when she wept amain,
And the knight he left her weeping, and rode on his toilsome way—
And the highest prize of his manhood it fell to his lot that day.

The Turkowit too had come there, and Gawain the twain did greet 35
In all friendship, and then he prayed them beside him to take their seat
Till their robes should be brought unto them; and costly they needs must be,
For never was fairer raiment than the garb of those heroes three.
For one lived of yore named Sarant, (a city doth bear his name,)
From out of the land of Triande in the days that are gone he came. 40
In the land of Queen Sekundillé stood a city so great and fair,
(E'en Nineveh or Akraton with its glories might scarce compare,)
And the city, men called it Thasmé; there Sarant won meed of fame,
Since he wove there a silk with cunning, Saranthasmé should be its name.
Think ye it was fair to look on? How might it be otherwise, 45
For much gold must he give for the payment who would win to him such a prize.

Such robes ware these two and Gawain: then they gat them unto the hall,
And on one side the knights they sat them, on the other the ladies all,
And he who a woman's beauty had wisdom to judge aright
Must reckon Gawain's fair lady the first of these ladies bright. 50
And the host and his guests so gallant they gazed on her radiant glow,
As they stood before Orgelusé; and her knights she again must know,
And her Turkowit, gallant Florand, and Lischois, the young and fair,
Were set free, without let or hindrance, for the love that Gawain must bear
To the lovely lady of Logrois—Then their victor they thanked amain, 55
Who was dull to all ill, yet had wisdom in all that might true love gain.
As the captives thus free were spoken, Gawain the four queens must see
As they stood by the side of the Duchess, and he spake in his courtesy,
And he bade the two knights go nearer, and with kiss greet those ladies bright,
The three younger queens, and joyful, I ween, was each gallant knight. 60
And there was the maiden Bené, with Gawain had she sought the hall,
And I think me a joyful welcome she found there from each and all.

Then the host would no longer stand there, and the twain did he pray to sit
By the maidens, as best should please them, and it grievèd them not one whit,
Such counsel it grieveth no man! Then the gallant Gawain spake, 65
'Now which of these maids is Itonjé? Beside her my seat I'ld take!'
Thus in secret he spake to Bené, and she showed him the maiden fair,
'She, with eyes so clear and shining, and red lips, and dusky hair!
Wouldst thou speak with the maid in secret? Then thy words be wise and few:'
Thus quoth Bené the wise in counsel, who Itonjé's love-tale knew, 70
And knew that King Gramoflanz loved her, and did service for her heart's love,
And his faith as a knight unstainèd would fain to the maiden prove.

Gawain sat him by the maiden, (as I heard so the tale I tell,)
And soft was his speech and gentle, and his words they beseemed him well.
And tho' few were the years of Itonjé yet great was her courtesy, 75
And well did she know how to bear her as a maiden of high degree.
And this question he asked the maiden, if a lover she aye had known?
And with wisdom she made him answer, 'To whom might my love be shown,
For ne'er to a man have I spoken, since the day I first saw the light,
Save the words which thou now dost hearken as I speak unto thee, Sir Knight!' 80

'Yet mayst thou have heard the rumour of one who hath bravely fought,
And striven for prize of knighthood, and with dauntless heart hath sought
Fair service for fair rewarding?' In such wise spake the knight Gawain;
But the maiden she quoth, 'Nay, no hero hath striven my love to gain;
Yon lady, the Duchess of Logrois, hath many a gallant knight 85
Who serve her for love, or for payment, and hither they come to fight,
And we of their jousts are witness, yet none shall have come so nigh
As thou hast, Sir Knight, and this conflict thy glory hath raised on high!'

Then he quoth to the lovely maiden, 'Whose pathway shall she have crossed
With many a chosen hero? Say, who hath her favour lost?' 90
'That, Sir Knight, hath the valiant monarch, King Gramoflanz, he who bore
From aforetime the crown of honour; so men say, and I know no more!'

Quoth Gawain, 'Thou shalt know more of him, since he draweth the prize anear,
And with steadfast heart doth he seek it; from his lips I this tale did hear—
Of true heart would he do thee service, if such service shall be thy will, 95
And help at thine hand he seeketh that thy love may his torment still.
It is well that a king face peril, if his lady shall be a queen,
And thou art the maid whom he loveth, if King Lot hath thy father been;
Thou art she for whom his heart weepeth, if thy name shall Itonjé be,
And sorrow of heart dost thou give him—By my mouth would he plead with thee.' 100

'Now if thou be true and faithful of his woe wilt thou make an end,
And both would I serve right gladly—This ring he to thee doth send,
I prithee to take it, Lady! In sooth do I mean thee well,
And if thou wilt trust unto me no word of the tale I'll tell!'
Then crimson she blushed, the maiden, and e'en as her lips were red 105
So red grew her cheek, yet the blushes as they came so they swiftly sped.
And she stretched forth her hand so shyly toward the little ring of gold,
For e'en at a glance she knew it, and her hand did the token hold.

Then she spake, 'Now, Sir Knight, I see well, if I freely to thee may speak,
That thou comest from him, whom, desiring, my heart doth for ever seek. 110
My words shalt thou still hold secret, as courtesy biddeth thee,
This ring have I seen aforetime, for it oft hath been sent to me;
From the hand of the king it cometh, and I know it for token true,
From my hand did he first receive it. What sorrow so e'er he knew,
Of that do I hold me guiltless; what he asked, that in thought I gave, 115
Had we met I had ne'er withholden the boon he from me did crave.'

'This day have I kissed Orgelusé, who thinketh his death to win,
I ween 'twas the kiss of Judas which all men count to him for sin!
And honour and faith forsook me, when the Turkowit, brave Florand,
And Gowerzein's Duke, fair Lischois, I kissed here at thy command. 120
From my heart I might not forgive them, for my true love they hate alway—
But speak thou no word to my mother.' Thus the maiden Gawain did pray.

'Sir Knight, it was thou didst pray me to take from their lips this kiss,
Tho' no will for forgiveness had I, and my heart sickeneth sore for this!
If joy shall be e'er our portion, our help in thine hand shall be, 125
And I know well, above all women, the king he desireth me;
And his will shall he have, for I love him o'er all men on earth that live—
God send thee good help and good counsel, that joy thou to us mayst give!'

Quoth Gawain, 'How may that be, Lady? He beareth thee in his heart,
And in thine dost thou ever hold him, and yet are ye twain apart. 130
If I knew how to give thee counsel that ye twain might in gladness dwell,
Of a sooth no pains would I spare me such rede unto thee to tell.'
Then she quoth, 'Yet in truth shalt thou rule us, myself, and my gallant king,
And naught but thy help and God's blessing our love to its goal may bring,
So that I, poor homeless maiden, his sorrow may put away, 135
For his joy shall be set upon me! If so be I from truth ne'er stray,
What other can I desire here, or for what shall my true heart yearn,
Save to give him the love he asketh, and his grief unto gladness turn?'

Gawain, he saw well that the maiden would fain to her love belong,
Yet her hatred towards the Duchess as aforetime was fierce and strong; 140
Thus hatred and love did she bear here, and wrong had he done the maid
Who thus, of a true heart simply, her plaint had before him laid.
Since never a word had he told her how one mother had borne them both,
And King Lot he had been their father—Then he answered her, little loth,
He would do what he might to aid her, and in secret with gracious word 145
She thanked him who brought her comfort, and her sorrow with kindness heard.

Now the hour it was come, and they brought there for the tables fair linen white,
And bread did they bear to the palace unto many a lady bright,
And there might ye see a severance, for the knights they sat by one wall,
Apart from the maids; and their places Gawain gave to each and all. 150
And the Turkowit sat beside him, and Lischois ate with Sangivé,
(And that fair queen was Gawain's mother,) and Orgelusé by Arnivé.
And Gawain set his lovely sister by his side at that festal board,
And all did as he bade them gladly, for he was that castle's lord.

My skill not the half doth tell me, no such master-cook am I, 155
That I know the name of the viands they offered them courteously;
The host, and each one of the ladies, their servers were maidens fair,
To the knights who sat over against them many squires did their portion bear.
For this was the seemly custom, that no squire, in his serving haste,
Brushed roughly against a maiden, but ever apart they paced— 160
And whether 'twas wine, or 'twas viands, they offered unto the guests,
In naught was their courtesy harmèd, for so did men deem it best.

And a feast they to-day must look on such as no man before had seen,
Since vanquished by Klingsor's magic both lady and knight had been.
Unknown were they yet to each other, tho' one portal it shut them in, 165
And never a man and a maiden might speech of each other win;
And a good thing Gawain he thought it that this folk should each other meet,
And much he rejoiced in their gladness, and his own lot it seemed him sweet;
Yet ever he looked in secret on his lady and love so fair,
And his heart it waxed hot within him, and love's anguish he needs must bear. 170

But the day drew near to its closing, and faint waxed the waning light,
And fair thro' the clouds of heaven gleamed the messengers of the night,
Many stars so bright and golden, who speed on their silent way
When the night would seek for shelter in the realm of departing day;
And after her standard-bearers, with her host doth she swiftly tread— 175
Now many a fair crown golden in the palace hung high o'erhead,
And with tapers they all were lighted around the stately hall,
And they bare unto every table a host of tapers tall;
And yet the story telleth that the Duchess she was so fair,
That ne'er was it night in her presence tho' never a torch were there! 180
For her glance was so bright and radiant it brought of itself the day;
And this tale of fair Orgelusé full oft have I heard men say.
He had spoken, methinks, untruly who said that he e'er had seen
A host so rich and joyous, and joyous his guests, I ween;
And ever with eager gladness each knight and each gentle maid 185
Looked well on each other's faces, nor shrank from the glance afraid.
If friendship they here desirèd, or each other would better know,
Then naught of their joy would I grudge them, methinks it were better so!

Tho' I wot well there none was a glutton, yet still had they ate their fill,
And they bare on one side the tables, and Gawain asked, with right goodwill, 190
If here there should be a fiddler? and many a gallant squire
Was skilled on the strings, and gladly would play at the host's desire,
Yet were they not all too skilful, and the dances were old alway,
Not new, as in fair Thuringia the dances they know to-day.

Then they thanked their host who, joyful, would give to their joy its vent, 195
And many a lovely lady in his presence danced well content,
For goodly their dance to look on, and their ranks, with many a pair
Of knight and lady, mingled, and grief fled from their faces fair.
And oft 'twixt two gentle maidens might be seen a noble knight,
And they who looked well upon them in their faces might read delight. 200
And whatever knight bethought him, and would of his lady pray
Reward, if for love he served her, none said to his pleading Nay.
Thus they who were poor in sorrow, and rich in joy's fairest dower,
With sweet words, by sweet lips spoken, made gladsome the passing hour.

Gawain and the Queen Arnivé, and Sangivé, the dance so fleet 205
Would look on in peace, for they danced not; then the Duchess she took her seat
By the side of Gawain, and her white hand he held in his own a while,
And they spake of this thing and the other, with many a glance and smile;
He rejoiced that she thus had sought him, and his grief it waxed small and faint,
And his joy it grew strong and mighty, nor vexed him with sorrow's plaint. 210
And great was the joy of the lady o'er the dance, and the merry feast,
Yet less was the sorrow of Gawain, and his joy o'er her joy increased.

Then spake the old Queen Arnivé, 'Sir Knight, now methinks 'twere best
That thou get thee to bed, for sorely, I ween, shall thy wounds need rest
Has the Duchess perchance bethought her to care for thy couch this night, 215
And tend thee herself, with such counsel and deed as shall seem her right?'
Quoth Gawain, 'That thyself mayst ask her; I will do as shall please ye twain!'
Then the Duchess she spake in answer, 'He shall in my charge remain.
Let this folk to their couch betake them, I will tend in such sort his rest
That never a loving lady dealt better by gallant guest; 220
And the other twain, my princes, in the care of the knights shall be,
Florand, and the Duke of Gowerzein, for so seemeth it good to me.'

In short space the dance was ended, and the maidens in beauty bright
Sat here and there, and between them sat many a gallant knight;
And joy took her revenge on sorrow, and he who so sweetly spake 225
Words of love, from his gentle lady must a gracious answer take.
Then the host must they hear, as he bade them the cup to the hall to bear,
And the wooers bemoaned his bidding; yet the host he wooed with them here,
And he bare of his love the burden, and the sitting he deemed too long,
For his heart by love's power was tortured with anguish so fierce and strong. 230
And they drank the night-drink, and sadly to each other they bade goodnight,
And the squires they must bear before them full many a taper bright.
And the two gallant guests did Gawain commend to them each and all,
And glad were the knights, and the heroes they led forth from out the hall.
And the Duchess, with gracious kindness, wished fair rest to the princes twain, 235
And then to their sleeping chambers forth wended the maiden train,
And as their fair breeding bade them, at the parting they curtseyed low:
Queen Sangivé and her fair daughters they too to their rest would go.

Then Bené, the maid, and Arnivé, they wrought with a willing hand
That the host he might sleep in comfort, nor the Duchess aside did stand, 240
But she aided the twain, and Gawain was led of the helpers three
To a chamber fair where his slumber that even should joyful be.
Two couches alone did he see there, but no man to me hath told
Of their decking, for other matters, I ween, doth this story hold.

Quoth Arnivé unto the Duchess, 'Now, Lady, think thou how best 245
This knight whom thou broughtest hither, shall beneath this roof-tree rest,
If aid at thine hand he craveth, to grant it shall honour thee;
No more would I say, save this only, his wounds they shall bandaged be
With such skill he might bear his armour—But if he bemoan his grief
Then methinks it were good and fitting that thou bring to his woe relief. 250
If thou wakest anew his courage, then we all in his gladness share—
Now think thou no ill of my counsel, but have for thy knight good care!'
Then the Queen Arnivé left them, (yet leave had she craved before,)
And Bené she bare the taper, and Gawain he made fast the door.

If the twain to their love gave hearing? The tale how should I withhold, 255
I would speak, were it not unseemly that love's secrets aloud be told,
For courtesy doth forbid it; and he who would tell the tale
Worketh ill to himself, o'er love's dealings true hands ever draw the veil.

Now betwixt his love and his lady had the joy of Gawain waxed small,
An the Duchess would have no pity, then healing might ne'er befall. 260
They who sat in the seat of the wise men, and knew many a mystic word,
Kancor, and Thèbit, and Trebuchet, the smith who Frimutel's sword
Once wrought, ('twas a wondrous weapon, and men of its marvels tell)—
Nay, all the skill of physicians, tho' they meant to the hero well
And plied him with roots well mingled—Had a woman ne'er sought his side, 265
Then vain were their skill, in his torment methinks had he surely died!

Fain would I make short the story, he the rightful root had found
That helped him unto his healing, and the chain of his grief unbound,
And brought light in the midst of his darkness—(Breton by his mother's side
Was Gawain, and King Lot his father) thus the healing task he plied, 270
And sweet balsam for bitter sorrow was his lot till the dawn of day.
Yet that which had wrought him comfort it was hid from the folk alway,
But all there, both knights and ladies, they beheld him so gay and glad
That their sorrow was put far from them and their heart was no longer sad.
Now list how he did the message whom Gawain he had sent afar, 275
Yea unto the land of Löver, unto Bems by the fair Korka,
For there he abode, King Arthur, and his lady, the gracious queen,
With fair maids and a host of vassals; this the lot of the squire had been.

'Twas yet in the early morning, when his message he fain had brought,
And the queen, in the chapel kneeling, on the page of her psalter thought; 280
Then the squire bent his knee before her, and he gave her a token fair,
For she took from his hand a letter, and the cover must writing bear
That was writ by a hand she knew well, ere yet she the name might know,
From the squire, of him who had sent him, as she looked on him kneeling low.
Then the queen she spake to the letter, 'Now blessed that hand shall be 285
That wrote thee; for care was my portion since the day that mine eyes might see
The hand that hath writ this writing'—She wept, yet for joy was fain,
And she quoth to the squire, 'Of a surety thy master shall be Gawain!'

'Yea, Lady, he truly offers true service as aye of yore,
With never a thought of wavering, yet his joy it shall suffer sore, 290
If so be thou wilt not upraise it; and never it stood so ill
With his honour as now it standeth—And more would he tell thee still,
In joy shall he live henceforward if comfort he gain from thee;
And I wot that yet more shall be written than what thou hast heard from me.'

Then she quoth, 'I have truly read there the cause that hath brought thee here, 295
And service I think to do him with many a woman dear,
Who to-day shall I ween be reckoned to have won to them beauty's prize—
Save Parzival's wife and another, Orgelusé, in all men's eyes,
Thro' Christendom none shall be fairer—Since far from King Arthur's court
Gawain rode, sore grief and sorrow have made of my life their sport. 300
And Meljanz de Lys hath told me he saw him in Barbigöl—
Alas!' quoth the queen, 'that ever mine eyes saw thee, Plimizöl!
What sorrow did there befall me! Since that day might I never greet
Kunnewaare of Lalande, she hath left me, my friend and companion sweet.
And the right of the good Round Table was broken by words of scorn, 305
And four years and a half and six weeks have left us, I ween, forlorn,
Since the Grail Parzival rode seeking; and after him rode Gawain
To Askalon—Nor Jeschuté nor Hekuba come again
Since the day that they parted from me, and grief for my friends so true
Hath driven my peace far from me, nor joy since that day I knew!' 310
And the queen spake much of her sorrow: then the squire would her counsel know,
'Now do thou in this my bidding, in secret thou hence shalt go,
And wait till the sun be higher, and the folk all at court shall be,
Knights, servants, and gentle ladies, and vassals of all degree;
And then to the court ride swiftly, nor think who shall hold thy steed, 315
But spring from its back, and hasten where the king shall thy coming heed.
They will ask of thee news of venture, but thou, do thou act and speak
As one who from peril flieth, whom the flames would devouring seek,
And they may not prevail to hold thee, nor win from thy lips the tale,
But press thou thro' them to the monarch, and to greet thee he will not fail. 320
Then give to his hand the letter, and swiftly from it he'll read
Thy tale, and thy lord's desiring; I doubt not the prayer he'll heed!'

'And this will I further rede thee, make thou thy request to me
Where I sit, and, amid my ladies, thy dealings may hear and see;
And beseech us, as well thou knowest, for thy lord wouldst thou hearing gain. 325
But say, for as yet I know not, where abideth the knight Gawain?'
'Nay,' quoth the squire, 'I may not, ask not where my lord doth dwell,
But think, an thou wilt, that good fortune is his, and he fareth well!'
Then glad was the squire of her counsel, and he took from the queen his way
In such wise as ye here have hearkened, and he came, e'en as she did say. 330

For e'en at the hour of noontide, not in secret but openly
He came to the court, and the courtiers his garments eyed curiously,
And they thought that they well beseemed him, and were such as a squire should wear,
And his horse on each flank was wounded, where the spurs they had smitten fair.
And, e'en as the queen had taught him, he sprang straightway unto the ground, 335
And a crowd of eager courtiers pressed, thronging, his steed around.
Mantle, sword, and spurs, e'en his charger might be lost, he would little care
But he gat thro' the crowd to the heroes, and the knights they besought him there,
Brought he news of some gallant venture? For the custom was aye of yore,
That they ate not, nor man nor maiden, save unto the court they bore 340
The news of some deed of knighthood, and the court might claim its right,
If so be 'twas a worthy venture, and one that beseemed a knight.
Quoth the squire, 'Nay, I naught may tell ye, for my haste doth not brook delay,
Of your courtesy then forgive me, and lead to the king the way,
For 'tis meet that I first speak with him, and mine haste it doth work me ill; 345
But my tale shall ye hear, and God teach ye to aid me with right goodwill!'

And so did his message urge him he thought not on the thronging crowd,
Till the eyes of the king beheld him, and greeting he spake aloud.
Then he gave to his hand the letter that bade to King Arthur's heart,
As he read it, two guests, joy and sorrow, alike there the twain had part 350
And he spake, 'Hail! the fair day's dawning, by whose light I have read this word,
And of thee, O son of my sister, true tidings at last have heard!
If in manhood I may but serve thee as kinsman and friend, if faith
Ever ruled my heart, 'twill be open to the word that Sir Gawain saith!'

Then he spake to the squire, 'Now tell me if Sir Gawain be glad at heart?' 355
'Yea, sire, at thy will, with the joyful I ween shall he have his part,'
(And thus quoth the squire in his wisdom,) 'yet his honour he sure shall lose,
And no man fresh joy may give him, if thine aid thou shalt here refuse.
At thy succour his gladness waxeth, and from out of dark sorrow's door
Shall grief from his heart be banished, if thou hearken his need so sore. 360
As of yore doth he offer service to the queen, and it is his will
That the knights of the good Round Table as their comrade account him still,
And think on their faith, nor let him be 'spoiled of his honour's meed,
But pray thee his cry to hearken, and make to his aid good speed!'

Quoth King Arthur, 'Dear friend and comrade, bear this letter unto the queen, 365
Let her read therein, and tell us why our portion hath twofold been,
And at one while we joy and we sorrow. How King Gramoflanz is fain
In the pride of his heart, and his malice, to work ill to my knight, Gawain;
He thinketh for sure that my nephew shall be Eidegast, whom he slew,
Thence grief hath he won; deeper sorrow I'ld teach him, and customs new!' 370

Then the squire he would pass where a welcome so kindly he did receive,
And he gave to the queen the letter, and many an eye must grieve,
And with crystal tears run over, as with sweet lips she read so clear
The words that within were written, and the need of Gawain they hear,
And his prayer did she read before them; nor long would the squire delay 375
With skill to entreat the ladies, and aid at their hand to pray.

King Arthur, Sir Gawain's uncle, he wrought with a hearty will
That his vassals might take the journey: nor did she abide her still,
Guinevere, the wise and the courteous, for she prayed them make no delay,
Her ladies, but bravely deck them, and get on their stately way. 380
Quoth Kay aloud in his anger, 'If ever I dared believe
That so gallant a man as Gawain of Norway on earth should live
I would cry to him, "Come thou nearer!" Fetch him swift, else he swift will go,
As a squirrel away he flasheth, and is lost ere his place ye know!'

To the queen quoth the squire, 'Now, Lady, my lord must I swiftly seek, 385
His cause do I leave to thine honour!' To her chamberlain did she speak,
'See thou that this squire doth rest well, and look well unto his steed,
Is it hewn with spurs, find another, the best that shall serve his need.
And what else beside shall fail him, for his dress, or lest pledge he lose,
Make ready as he shall ask thee, and naught unto him refuse!' 390
And she quoth, 'Thou shalt say unto Gawain, I am ever to serve him fain,
Thy leave from the king will I care for, he greeteth thy lord again!'

Thus the king he was fain for the journey; and the feast it might now be served,
Since the right of the good Round Table by this venture was well observed;
And joy in their hearts awakened, since this gallant knight Gawain 395
Should be yet in life, and true tidings they might of his welfare gain.
And the knights of that noble order, that even were glad at heart,
And there sat the king, and those others who had in the ring their part,
And they sat and they ate with their monarch who fame by their strife had won,
And the news of this gallant venture wrought joy to them every one. 400

Now the squire might betake him homewards, since his errand so well had sped,
He gat forth at the early dawning, ere the sun should be high o'erhead,
And the queen's chamberlain he gave him a charger, and robes beside,
And gold lest his pledge be forfeit, and glad on his way he hied,
For had he not won from King Arthur what should end his lord's sorrow sore? 405
And I know not the days of his journey, but in safety he came once more
To Château Merveil; then joyful was Arnivé, for as she bade
The porter bare news of his coming, how his steed he no whit had stayed,
But swiftly had done his errand. Then in secret she made her way
To where by the castle drawbridge the squire did his charger stay, 410
And she asked him much of his journey, and why he in haste must ride?
Quoth the squire, ''Tis forbidden, Lady! my errand I needs must hide,
An oath have I sworn of silence, and my lord he might well be wroth
If to thee I should tell the tidings, for so should I break mine oath,
And a fool would he surely hold me! Ask himself what thou fain wouldst learn!' 415
Yet she strove still with many a question from his purpose the squire to turn,
Then weary was he of her pleading, and in anger this word he spake,
'Without cause dost thou here delay me, for I think not mine oath to break!'

So he went where he found his master, and the Turkowit brave Florand,
And Lischois, and the lady of Logrois, many ladies did with them stand, 420
And the squire made his way to his master, and up stood the knight Gawain,
And he took him aside, and welcome he bade him in joyful strain,
'Now tell unto me, my comrade, the tidings thou here hast brought,
If thy news be for joy or for sorrow, what speak they of me at court?'

'And say, didst thou find King Arthur?' quoth the squire, 'My master, yea, 425
The king, and the queen, and with them many brave knights I saw alway,
And they offer to thee their service, and they will at thy bidding come,
And they heard in such sort thy message, with such gladness, that every one,
Rich and poor, as one man were joyful when I spake, thou wert safe and well.
And the folk there were sure a marvel! Their number I may not tell! 430
And the Table Round, by thy message, was spread for the feast I ween;
And if knight e'er won fame by his valour, then I wot that thy fame hath been
Far greater than all who hearkened to the words that I spake of thee,
And it beareth the crown o'er all others, tho' mighty their fame shall be!'

Then he told him all that befell there, how he spake with the gracious queen, 435
And the counsel she gave unto him; and how he the folk had seen,
Those brave knights and gentle ladies; how Gawain should behold their face
At Ioflanz, before the combat, and the end of his day of grace.
And the sorrow of Gawain vanished, yet his joy in his heart he'ld hide,
Tho' from grief did he pass to gladness; yet the squire must his oath abide 440
And yet for a space keep silence—Forgotten was all his care,
And thither he went, and he sat him again by his lady fair,
And with joy he abode in the castle till King Arthur to his relief
Might come with his host—Now hearken to a story of love and grief:

Gawain he was ever joyful; one morn did it so befall 445
That many a knight and lady were seen in that stately hall,
And Gawain sat apart in a window, and looked o'er the stream so wide,
And with many a tale of wonder sat Arnivé the knight beside.

To the queen spake the gallant hero, 'Ah! hearken, my Lady dear,
If my questions they shall not vex thee, do thou to my words give ear 450
And tell me the wondrous story, which as yet shall be hid from me—
That I live, and my life is joyful, I owe it to none but thee;
Tho' my heart had the wit of manhood, yet the Duchess she held it fast,
But thou in such wise hast helped me that my sorrow is overpast;
Of my love, and my wounds had I died here, but with wisdom thy helpful hand 455
Thou didst stretch to my aid, and hast loosed me for aye from my sorrow's band.
I owe thee my life! My Lady of healing, now tell to me
The wonder that was, and the marvel that yet in this place shall be.
Say, wherefore by mighty magic hath Klingsor this palace made?
For surely my life had I lost here had thy wisdom not been mine aid!' 460

Then out quoth the wise Arnivé, (and ne'er with such goodly fame
Of womanly faith and wisdom fair youth unto old age came,)
'Sir Knight, these are but small marvels to the marvels his cunning hand,
And his skill in hidden magic, have wrought in full many a land.
He who counteth it shame unto us that into his power we fell, 465
He sinneth for sure! His doings, Sir Knight, I to thee will tell.
Many folk, I ween, hath he troubled, his land is Terre de Labûr:
From a wondrous race he springeth, whose marvels they aye endure,
For Virgil was his forefather, in Naples his spells he wrought:
And in this wise his nephew Klingsor was to shame and to sorrow brought;' 470