unto Kent kindled the coast blazeth.
Hither have I hardly hunted riding
on the sea pursued to your side hastened,
treason to tell you. Trust not Mordred! 165
He is false to faith, your foes harbours,
with lords of Lochlan league he maketh,
out of Almain and Angel allies hireth,
coveting the kingdom, to the crown reaching
hands unholy. Haste now westward!’ 170
*
A while then Arthur white with anger
there sat in silence. Thus sudden fortune
had turned and betrayed him. In twenty battles
he had fought and conquered; his foes were scattered,
neath his hand were humbled heathen chieftains. 175
Now from hope’s summit headlong falling
his heart foreboded that his house was doomed,
the ancient world to its end falling,
and the tides of time turned against him.
Swift then sent he to summon Gawain 180
bold in counsel. Bitter words he spake;
the evil tidings all he told him.
‘Now for Lancelot I long sorely,
and we miss now most the mighty swords
of Ban’s kindred. Best meseemeth 185
swift word to send, service craving
to their lord of old. To this leagued treason
we must power oppose, proud returning
with matchless might Mordred to humble.’
Gawain answered grave and slowly: 190
‘Best meseemeth that Ban’s kindred
abide in Benwick and this black treason
favour nor further – yet I fear the worse:
thou wilt find thy friends as foes meet thee.
If Lancelot hath loyal purpose 195
let him prove repentance, his pride forgoing,
uncalled coming when his king needeth!
But fainer with fewer faithfulhearted
would I dare danger, than with doubtful swords
and tarnished shields of truant lieges 200
our muster swell. Why more need we?
Though thou legions levy through the lands of Earth,
fay or mortal, from the Forest’s margin
to the Isle of Avalon, armies countless,
never and nowhere knights more puissant, 205
nobler chivalry of renown fairer,
mightier manhood under moon or sun
shall be gathered again till graves open.
Here free unfaded is the flower of time
that men shall remember through the mist of years 210
as a golden summer in the grey winter.
And Gawain hast thou. May God keep us
in hope allied, heart united,
as the kindred blood in our bodies courseth,
Arthur and Gawain! Evil greater 215
hath fled aforetime that we faced together.
Now in haste is hope! While hate lingers,
and uncertain counsel secret ponders,
as wroth as wind let us ride westward,
and sail over sea with sudden vengeance!’ 220
*
II
____________
How the Frisian ship brought news, and Mordred gathered his host and went to Camelot seeking the queen.
Dark wind came driving over deep water,
from the South sweeping surf upon the beaches,
a roaring sea rolling endless
huge hoarcrested hills of thunder.
The world darkened. Wan rode the moon 5
through stormy clouds streaming northward.
From France came flying a fleet vessel
dark and dragon-prowed, dreadly carven,
sable-shrouded, on the sea leaping,
by the waves hunted as a wild creature 10
among hungry hounds. The horns of the wind
were its mort blowing. Men were calling,
to their gods crying with grim voices,
as it rode to wreck with riven timbers
in the mouths of the sea. The moon glittered 15
in the glaring eyes upon their grey faces
death outstaring. Doom o’ercame them.
Mordred was waking. His mind wandered
in dark counsels deep and secret.
From a window looked he in western tower: 20
drear and doubtful day was breaking,
grey light glimmered behind gates of cloud.
About the walls of stone wind was flowing;
sea sighed below, surging, grinding.
He heard nor heeded: his heart returned 25
to its long thraldom lust-tormented,
to Guinever the golden with gleaming limbs,
as fair and fell as fay-woman
in the world walking for the woe of men
no tear shedding. Towers might he conquer, 30
and thrones o’erthrow yet the thought quench not.
In her blissful bower on bed of silver
softly slept she on silken pillows
with long hair loosened, lightly breathing,
in fragrant dreams fearless wandering, 35
of pity and repentance no pain feeling,
in the courts of Camelot queen and peerless,
queen unguarded. Cold blew the wind.
His bed was barren; there black phantoms
of desire unsated and savage fury 40
in his brain had brooded till bleak morning.
A stair he mounted steeply winding
to walls embattled well-wrought of stone.
O’er the weeping world waking coldly
he leant and laughed, lean and tearless. 45
Cocks were crowing. Clamour rose at gate.
Servants sought him soft-foot running
through hall and bower hunting swiftly.
His eager squire Ivor hailed him
by the dungeon-stair at the door standing: 50
‘Lord! Come below! Why alone walk ye?
Tidings await you! Time is spared us
too short for shrift. A ship is landed!’
Mordred came then; and men trembled
at his dark visage drenched with water; 55
wind-tossed his hair, and his words grated:
‘Do ye ransack with rabble this royal castle,
Because a ship from storm to shore flieth?’
Ivor him answered: ‘On your errand hasting
the Frisian captain from France cometh 60
on wings of wind, his word keeping,
fate defying. Fate hath conquered.
His ship is broken on the shore lying;
at the door of death he doomed lingers.
All else are dead.’ At early day 65
the red rover the rings of gold
repayed to his patron, ere he passed to hell;
shrift he sought not, nor shaven priest,
his latest words to his lord speaking:
‘Cradoc the accurséd to the king flying 70
through thy net slipping news untimely
east to Almain ere the hour was ripe
hath brought from Britain. Bare is thy counsel;
in Arthur’s ears all is rumoured
of thy deeds and purpose. Dark his anger. 75
He hastens home, and his host summons,
from the Roman marches riding as tempest.
Nine thousand knights draw near the sea;
on northern waves his navy lies,
Whitesand with boats, wherries and barges 80
shipwrights’ hammers, shouting seamen,
ringing armour, riders hasting,
is loud and thronging. Look ye to it!
Shining on bulwarks shields are hanging
blazoned in blood-red foreboding war. 85
On the waves they wait and the wind’s fury;
lean hounds at leash longships are tugging
on heaving hawsers. Haste now eastwa
rd!’
Radbod the Red, rover fearless,
heathen-hearted to hate faithful, 90
died as his doom was. Dark was the morning.
To sea they cast him, of his soul recked not
that walks in the waters, wandering homeless.
Wild rode the wind through the West country.
Banners were blowing, black was the raven 95
they bore as blazon. Blaring of trumpets,
neighing of horses, gnashing of armour,
in the hoar hollows of the hills echoed.
Mordred was marching; messengers speeding
northward and eastward the news bearing 100
through the land of Logres. Lords and chieftains
to his side he summoned swift to hasten
their tryst keeping, true to Mordred,
faithful in falsehood, foes of Arthur,
lovers of treason, lightly purchased 105
followers of fortune, and freebooters
of Erin and Alban and East-Sassoin,
of Almain and Angel and the isles of mist;
the crows of the coast and the cold marshes.
He came to Camelot, the queen seeking. 110
Fiercely heard she his feet hasten
with striding steps the stair climbing.
To her bower came he. With burning eyes
by the door he stood darkly gazing.
She sat silent no sign giving 115
at the wide window. Wan gleamed the day
in her bright tresses bleakly golden.
Grey her eyes were as a glittering sea;
glass-clear and chill they his glance challenged
proud and pitiless. But pale her cheek 120
for heart misgave her, as one that hounds tameth
to follow her feet and fawn at hand,
when wolf unawares walks among them.
Then spake Mordred with his mouth smiling:
‘Hail! Lady of Britain! It is long sitting 125
alone lordless in loveless days,
a kingless queen in courts that echo
to no noise of knighthood. Yet never shalt thou
on earth hereafter thine hours barren
and life find loveless. Nor less than queen 130
with dimmed glory thy days revile
though chances change – if thou choose aright.
A king courts thee his crown to share,
his love offering and loyal service.’
Gravely Guinever again answered: 135
‘Thou callest thee king, and of crown speakest –
in his lieu ‘twas lent thee by thy liege-master,
who liveth yet and reigneth, though long absent.
For thy love I thank thee and loyal service,
though due I deem it from dear nephew 140
to Arthur’s queen.’ Then her eyes wavered,
and he set her beside him, seized her fiercely.
Grim words he spake – Guinever trembled:
‘Now never again from northern wars
shall Arthur enter this island realm, 145
nor Lancelot du Lake love remembering
to thy tryst return! Time is changing;
the West waning, a wind rising
in the waxing East. The world falters.
New tides are running in the narrrow waters. 150
False or faithful, only fearless man
shall ride the rapids from ruin snatching
power and glory. I purpose so.
Thou at my side shall lie, slave or lady,
as thou wilt or wilt not, wife or captive. 155
This treasure take I, ere towers crumble,
and thrones are o’erturned, thirst first will I slake.
I will be king after and crowned with gold.’
Then the queen took counsel in her cold bosom
between fear and prudence; feigning wonder, 160
softly after silence she dissembling spake:
‘My lord, unlooked-for were thy love-speeches,
and this eager suit thou urgest now;
new thoughts arise needing counsel!
Delay allow me and a little respite 165
ere thou ask my answer! Should Arthur come,
my plight were perilous. Could thou proof show me
that thou wilt ride over ruin, wresting kingship
from troublous times, troth were plighted
with briefer counsel.’ Bitterly laughed he: 170
‘What proof of power shall prisoner seek,
captive of captor? Be I king or earl,
‘twixt bride and bond brief be the choosing!
Needs must tonight that I know thy mind;
longer I grant not.’ Then his leave took he. 175
Fierce and hasty his feet echoed
with striding steps on the stone pavement.
Night came slowly. The naked moon
slipped sudden forth from swathing clouds
torn by tempest, in a tarn of stars 180
swam serenely. Riding swiftly
hosemen hastened. Hooves were beating,
steel-pointed spears stung with silver.
Long leagues behind in a low valley
the lights of Camelot lessened and faded; 185
before lay forest and the far marches,
dark roads and dim. Dread pursued them.
Wolf had wakened in the woods stalking,
and the hind hardly from hiding driven
her foe had fled, fear-bewildered, 190
cowed and hunted, once queen of herds
for whom harts majestic in horned combat
had fought fiercely. So fled she now,
Guinevere the fair in grey mantled,
cloaked in darkness, from the courts stealing. 195
Few faithful men her flight aided,
folk that followed her in former days,
when from Leodegrance to Logres rode
bride to bridegroom brave and golden
in mighty Arthur’s morning glory. 200
Now to lonely towers, land deserted,
where Leodegrance once long ago
at the Round Table regal feasted,
she hastened home to harbour cold,
hiding uncertain. In her heart darkly 205
she thought of Lancelot, should he learn afar
of her woe and wandering by wolf hunted.
If the king were conquered, and the crows feasted,
would he come at her call, queen and lady
riding to rescue? Then from ruin haply 210
were gladness wrested. Guinevere the fair,
not Mordred only, should master chance
and the tides of time turn to her purpose.
*
III
____________
Of Sir Lancelot, who abode in Benwick.
In the South from sleep to swift fury
a storm was stirred, striding northward
over leagues of water loud with thunder
and roaring rain it rushed onward.
Their hoary heads hills and mountains 5
tossed in tumult on the towering seas.
On Benwick’s beaches breakers pounding
ground gigantic grumbling boulders
with ogre anger. The air was salt
with spume and spindrift splashed to vapour. 10
There Lancelot over leagues of sea
in heaving welter from a high window
looked and wondered alone musing.
Dark slowly fell. Deep his anguish.
He his lord betrayed to love yielding, 15
and love forsaking lord regained not;
faith was refused him who had faith broken,
by leagues of sea from love sundered.
Sir Lancelot, Lord of Benwick
of old was the noblest knight of Arthur, 20
among sons of kings kingly seeming,
deemed most daring, in deeds of arms
all surpassing, eagerhe
arted;
among folk whose beauty as a flower blossomed
in face the fairest, formed in manhood 25
strong and gracious, steel well-tempered.
White his hue was; his hair raven,
dark and splendid; dark his eyes were.
Gold was Gawain, gold as sunlight,
but grey his eyes were gleaming keenly; 30
his mood sterner. By men holden
almost equal envy he knew not,
peer and peerless praising justly,
but to his lord alone his love giving;
no man nor woman in his mind holding 35
dearer than Arthur. Daily watchful
the Queen he doubted, ere the cold shadow
on her great glory grey had fallen.
To Lancelot her love gave she,
in his great glory gladness finding. 40
To his lady only was his love given;
no man nor woman in his mind held he
than Guinever dearer: glory only,
knighthood’s honour, near his lady
in his heart holding. High his purpose; 45
he long was loyal to his lord Arthur,
among the Round Table’s royal order
prince and peerless, proudly serving
Queen and lady. But cold silver
or glowing gold greedy-hearted 50
in her fingers taken fairer thought she,
more lovely deeming what she alone treasured
darkly hoarded. Dear she loved him
with love unyielding, lady ruthless,
fair as fay-woman and fell-minded 55
in the world walking for the woe of men.
Fate sent her forth. Fair she deemed him
beyond gold and silver to her grasp lying.
Silver and golden, as the sun at morning
her smile dazzled, and her sudden weeping 60
with tears softened, tender poison,
steel well-tempered. Strong oaths they broke.
Mordred in secret mirthless watched them
betwixt hate and envy, hope and torment.
Thus was bred the evil, and the black shadow 65
o’er the courts of Arthur as a cloud growing
dimmed the daylight darkling slowly.
In evil hour was Agravain
the dour-handed to death smitten –
by the door fell he – dear to Gawain. 70
Swift swords were drawn by sworn brethren
and the Round Table rent asunder
in the Queen’s quarrel. Cold rang the blades.
The Queen was taken. With cruel justice
fair as fay-woman they to fire doomed her, 75