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Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems

<hr style="width: 65%;" />[Pg 43] <h2><big>SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY</big></h2> <hr style="width: 65%;" />[Pg 45] <h2>SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY</h2> <div class="cpoem30"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> IT is the longest night in all the year, Near on the day when the Lord Christ was born; Six hours ago I came and sat down here, And ponder'd sadly, wearied and forlorn. </div> <div class="stanza"> The winter wind that pass'd the chapel door, Sang out a moody tune, that went right well With mine own thoughts: I look'd down on the floor, Between my feet, until I heard a bell </div> <div class="stanza"> Sound a long way off through the forest deep, And toll on steadily; a drowsiness [Pg 46] Came on me, so that I fell half asleep, As I sat there not moving: less and less </div> <div class="stanza"> I saw the melted snow that hung in beads Upon my steel-shoes; less and less I saw Between the tiles the bunches of small weeds: Heartless and stupid, with no touch of awe </div> <div class="stanza"> Upon me, half-shut eyes upon the ground, I thought: O Galahad! the days go by, Stop and cast up now that which you have found, So sorely you have wrought and painfully. </div> <div class="stanza"> Night after night your horse treads down alone The sere damp fern, night after night you sit Holding the bridle like a man of stone, Dismal, unfriended: what thing comes of it? </div> <div class="stanza"> And what if Palomydes also ride, And over many a mountain and bare heath Follow the questing beast with none beside? Is he not able still to hold his breath </div> <div class="stanza"> With thoughts of Iseult? doth he not grow pale With weary striving, to seem best of all [Pg 47] To her, 'as she is best,' he saith? to fail Is nothing to him, he can never fall. </div> <div class="stanza"> For unto such a man love-sorrow is So dear a thing unto his constant heart, That even if he never win one kiss, Or touch from Iseult, it will never part. </div> <div class="stanza"> And he will never know her to be worse Than in his happiest dreams he thinks she is: Good knight, and faithful, you have 'scaped the curse In wonderful-wise; you have great store of bliss. </div> <div class="stanza"> Yea, what if Father Launcelot ride out, Can he not think of Guenevere's arms, round Warm and lithe, about his neck, and shout Till all the place grows joyful with the sound? </div> <div class="stanza"> And when he lists can often see her face, And think, 'Next month I kiss you, or next week, And still you think of me': therefore the place Grows very pleasant, whatsoever he seek. [Pg 48]</div> <div class="stanza"> But me, who ride alone, some carle shall find Dead in my arms in the half-melted snow, When all unkindly with the shifting wind, The thaw comes on at Candlemas: I know </div> <div class="stanza"> Indeed that they will say: 'This Galahad If he had lived had been a right good knight; Ah! poor chaste body!' but they will be glad, Not most alone, but all, when in their sight </div> <div class="stanza"> That very evening in their scarlet sleeves The gay-dress'd minstrels sing; no maid will talk Of sitting on my tomb, until the leaves, Grown big upon the bushes of the walk, </div> <div class="stanza"> East of the Palace-pleasaunce, make it hard To see the minster therefrom: well-a-day! Before the trees by autumn were well bared, I saw a damozel with gentle play, </div> <div class="stanza"> Within that very walk say last farewell To her dear knight, just riding out to find (Why should I choke to say it?) the Sangreal, And their last kisses sunk into my mind, [Pg 49]</div> <div class="stanza"> Yea, for she stood lean'd forward on his breast, Rather, scarce stood; the back of one dear hand, That it might well be kiss'd, she held and press'd Against his lips; long time they stood there, fann'd </div> <div class="stanza"> By gentle gusts of quiet frosty wind, Till Mador de la porte a-going by, And my own horsehoofs roused them; they untwined, And parted like a dream. In this way I, </div> <div class="stanza"> With sleepy face bent to the chapel floor, Kept musing half asleep, till suddenly A sharp bell rang from close beside the door, And I leapt up when something pass'd me by, </div> <div class="stanza"> Shrill ringing going with it, still half blind I stagger'd after, a great sense of awe At every step kept gathering on my mind, Thereat I have no marvel, for I saw </div> <div class="stanza"> One sitting on the altar as a throne, Whose face no man could say he did not know, [Pg 50] And though the bell still rang, he sat alone, With raiment half blood-red, half white as snow. </div> <div class="stanza"> Right so I fell upon the floor and knelt, Not as one kneels in church when mass is said, But in a heap, quite nerveless, for I felt The first time what a thing was perfect dread. </div> <div class="stanza"> But mightily the gentle voice came down: 'Rise up, and look and listen, Galahad, Good knight of God, for you will see no frown Upon my face; I come to make you glad. </div> <div class="stanza"> For that you say that you are all alone, I will be with you always, and fear not You are uncared for, though no maiden moan Above your empty tomb; for Launcelot, </div> <div class="stanza"> He in good time shall be my servant too, Meantime, take note whose sword first made him knight, And who has loved him alway, yea, and who Still trusts him alway, though in all men's sight, [Pg 51]</div> <div class="stanza"> He is just what you know, O Galahad, This love is happy even as you say, But would you for a little time be glad, To make ME sorry long, day after day? </div> <div class="stanza"> Her warm arms round his neck half throttle ME, The hot love-tears burn deep like spots of lead, Yea, and the years pass quick: right dismally Will Launcelot at one time hang his head; </div> <div class="stanza"> Yea, old and shrivell'd he shall win my love. Poor Palomydes fretting out his soul! Not always is he able, son, to move His love, and do it honour: needs must roll </div> <div class="stanza"> The proudest destrier sometimes in the dust, And then 'tis weary work; he strives beside Seem better than he is, so that his trust Is always on what chances may betide; </div> <div class="stanza"> And so he wears away, my servant, too, When all these things are gone, and wretchedly He sits and longs to moan for Iseult, who Is no care now to Palomydes: see, [Pg 52]</div> <div class="stanza"> O good son Galahad, upon this day, Now even, all these things are on your side, But these you fight not for; look up, I say, And see how I can love you, for no pride </div> <div class="stanza"> Closes your eyes, no vain lust keeps them down. See now you have ME always; following That holy vision, Galahad, go on, Until at last you come to ME to sing </div> <div class="stanza"> In Heaven always, and to walk around The garden where I am.' He ceased, my face And wretched body fell upon the ground; And when I look'd again, the holy place </div> <div class="stanza"> Was empty; but right so the bell again Came to the chapel-door, there entered Two angels first, in white, without a stain, And scarlet wings, then, after them, a bed </div> <div class="stanza"> Four ladies bore, and set it down beneath The very altar-step, and while for fear I scarcely dared to move or draw my breath, Those holy ladies gently came a-near, [Pg 53]</div> <div class="stanza"> And quite unarm'd me, saying: 'Galahad, Rest here awhile and sleep, and take no thought Of any other thing than being glad; Hither the Sangreal will be shortly brought, </div> <div class="stanza"> Yet must you sleep the while it stayeth here.' Right so they went away, and I, being weary, Slept long and dream'd of Heaven: the bell comes near, I doubt it grows to morning. Miserere! </div> </div> <div class="blockquot">Enter Two Angels in white, with scarlet wings; also, Four Ladies in gowns of red and green; also an Angel, bearing in his hands a surcoat of white, with a red cross. </div> An Angel <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> O servant of the high God, Galahad! Rise and be arm'd: the Sangreal is gone forth Through the great forest, and you must be had Unto the sea that lieth on the north: </div> <div class="stanza"> There shall you find the wondrous ship wherein The spindles of King Solomon are laid, [Pg 54] And the sword that no man draweth without sin, But if he be most pure: and there is stay'd, </div> <div class="stanza"> Hard by, Sir Launcelot, whom you will meet In some short space upon that ship: first, though, Will come here presently that lady sweet, Sister of Percival, whom you well know, </div> <div class="stanza"> And with her Bors and Percival: stand now, These ladies will to arm you. </div> </div> First Lady, putting on the hauberk. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Galahad, That I may stand so close beneath your brow, I, Margaret of Antioch, am glad. </div> </div> Second Lady, girding him with the sword. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> That I may stand and touch you with my hand, O Galahad, I, Cecily, am glad. </div> </div> Third Lady, buckling on the spurs. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> That I may kneel while up above you stand, And gaze at me, O holy Galahad, </div> <div class="stanza"> I, Lucy, am most glad. </div> </div> Fourth Lady, putting on the basnet. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> O gentle knight, [Pg 55] That you bow down to us in reverence, We are most glad, I, Katherine, with delight Must needs fall trembling. </div> </div> Angel, putting on the crossed surcoat. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Galahad, we go hence, </div> <div class="stanza"> For here, amid the straying of the snow, Come Percival's sister, Bors, and Percival. [The Four Ladies carry out the bed, and all go but Galahad. </div> </div> Galahad. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> How still and quiet everything seems now: They come, too, for I hear the horsehoofs fall. </div> </div> <div class="blockquot">Enter Sir Bors, Sir Percival, and his Sister. </div> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Fair friends and gentle lady, God you save! A many marvels have been here to-night; Tell me what news of Launcelot you have, And has God's body ever been in sight? </div> </div> Sir Bors. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Why, as for seeing that same holy thing, As we were riding slowly side by side, [Pg 56] An hour ago, we heard a sweet voice sing, And through the bare twigs saw a great light glide, </div> <div class="stanza"> With many-colour'd raiment, but far off; And so pass'd quickly: from the court nought good; Poor merry Dinadan, that with jape and scoff Kept us all merry, in a little wood </div> <div class="stanza"> Was found all hack'd and dead: Sir Lionel And Gauwaine have come back from the great quest, Just merely shamed; and Lauvaine, who loved well Your father Launcelot, at the king's behest </div> <div class="stanza"> Went out to seek him, but was almost slain, Perhaps is dead now; everywhere The knights come foil'd from the great quest, in vain; In vain they struggle for the vision fair. </div> </div></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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