And after muttering 'The great Lancelot,At last he got his breath and answered,'One,One have I seen--that other,our liege lord,The dread Pendragon,Britain's King of kings,Of whom the people talk mysteriously,He will be there--then were I stricken blind That minute,I might say that I had seen.'
So spake Lavaine,and when they reached the lists By Camelot in the meadow,let his eyes Run through the peopled gallery which half round Lay like a rainbow fallen upon the grass,Until they found the clear-faced King,who sat Robed in red samite,easily to be known,Since to his crown the golden dragon clung,And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold,And from the carven-work behind him crept Two dragons gilded,sloping down to make Arms for his chair,while all the rest of them Through knots and loops and folds innumerable Fled ever through the woodwork,till they found The new design wherein they lost themselves,Yet with all ease,so tender was the work:
And,in the costly canopy o'er him set,Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king.
Then Lancelot answered young Lavaine and said,'Me you call great:mine is the firmer seat,The truer lance:but there is many a youth Now crescent,who will come to all I am And overcome it;and in me there dwells No greatness,save it be some far-off touch Of greatness to know well I am not great:
There is the man.'And Lavaine gaped upon him As on a thing miraculous,and anon The trumpets blew;and then did either side,They that assailed,and they that held the lists,Set lance in rest,strike spur,suddenly move,Meet in the midst,and there so furiously Shock,that a man far-off might well perceive,If any man that day were left afield,The hard earth shake,and a low thunder of arms.
And Lancelot bode a little,till he saw Which were the weaker;then he hurled into it Against the stronger:little need to speak Of Lancelot in his glory!King,duke,earl,Count,baron--whom he smote,he overthrew.
But in the field were Lancelot's kith and kin,Ranged with the Table Round that held the lists,Strong men,and wrathful that a stranger knight Should do and almost overdo the deeds Of Lancelot;and one said to the other,'Lo!
What is he?I do not mean the force alone--
The grace and versatility of the man!
Is it not Lancelot?''When has Lancelot worn Favour of any lady in the lists?
Not such his wont,as we,that know him,know.'
'How then?who then?'a fury seized them all,A fiery family passion for the name Of Lancelot,and a glory one with theirs.
They couched their spears and pricked their steeds,and thus,Their plumes driven backward by the wind they made In moving,all together down upon him Bare,as a wild wave in the wide North-sea,Green-glimmering toward the summit,bears,with all Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies,Down on a bark,and overbears the bark,And him that helms it,so they overbore Sir Lancelot and his charger,and a spear Down-glancing lamed the charger,and a spear Pricked sharply his own cuirass,and the head Pierced through his side,and there snapt,and remained.
Then Sir Lavaine did well and worshipfully;
He bore a knight of old repute to the earth,And brought his horse to Lancelot where he lay.
He up the side,sweating with agony,got,But thought to do while he might yet endure,And being lustily holpen by the rest,His party,--though it seemed half-miracle To those he fought with,--drave his kith and kin,And all the Table Round that held the lists,Back to the barrier;then the trumpets blew Proclaiming his the prize,who wore the sleeve Of scarlet,and the pearls;and all the knights,His party,cried 'Advance and take thy prize The diamond;'but he answered,'Diamond me No diamonds!for God's love,a little air!
Prize me no prizes,for my prize is death!
Hence will I,and I charge you,follow me not.'
He spoke,and vanished suddenly from the field With young Lavaine into the poplar grove.
There from his charger down he slid,and sat,Gasping to Sir Lavaine,'Draw the lance-head:'
'Ah my sweet lord Sir Lancelot,'said Lavaine,'I dread me,if I draw it,you will die.'
But he,'I die already with it:draw--
Draw,'--and Lavaine drew,and Sir Lancelot gave A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan,And half his blood burst forth,and down he sank For the pure pain,and wholly swooned away.
Then came the hermit out and bare him in,There stanched his wound;and there,in daily doubt Whether to live or die,for many a week Hid from the wide world's rumour by the grove Of poplars with their noise of falling showers,And ever-tremulous aspen-trees,he lay.
But on that day when Lancelot fled the lists,His party,knights of utmost North and West,Lords of waste marches,kings of desolate isles,Came round their great Pendragon,saying to him,'Lo,Sire,our knight,through whom we won the day,Hath gone sore wounded,and hath left his prize Untaken,crying that his prize is death.'
'Heaven hinder,'said the King,'that such an one,So great a knight as we have seen today--He seemed to me another Lancelot--
Yea,twenty times I thought him Lancelot--
He must not pass uncared for.Wherefore,rise,O Gawain,and ride forth and find the knight.
Wounded and wearied needs must he be near.
I charge you that you get at once to horse.
And,knights and kings,there breathes not one of you Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given:
His prowess was too wondrous.We will do him No customary honour:since the knight Came not to us,of us to claim the prize,Ourselves will send it after.Rise and take This diamond,and deliver it,and return,And bring us where he is,and how he fares,And cease not from your quest until ye find.'
