III
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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,   eagerhearted;  
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
to death they condemned her.   But death waited.  
There Lancelot   as lightning came  
amid riding thunder   ruthless flaming  
in sudden assault   sweeping heedless  
he friends of old   felled and trampled,        80
as trees by tempest   torn uprooted.  
Gaheris and Gareth   Gawain’s brethren  
by the fire fell they   as fate willed it.  
From the fire he snatched her;   far he bore her;  
fear fell on men,   none would follow after;        85
for Ban’s kindred   in their battle closed him.  
  
Then rage left him,   and his wrath sickened,  
his mood faltered.   He mourned too late  
in ruth for the rending   of the Round Table.  
His pride he repented,   his prowess cursing        90
that friends had felled,   faith had broken.  
For the love longing   of his lord Arthur  
he would heal yet honour   with his heart’s anguish,  
and the queen restore,   by the king’s mercy  
her estate restablish.   Strange she deemed him        95
by a sudden sickness   from his self altered.  
From war she shrank not,   might her will conquer,  
life both and love   with delight keeping  
to wield as she wished   while the world lasted;  
but little liked her   lonely exile,        100
or for love to lose   her life’s splendour.  
In sorrow they parted.   With searing words  
his wound she probed   his will searching.  
Grief bewrayed her   and greed thwarted;  
the shining sun   was sudden shaded        105
in storm of darkness.   Strange he deemed her  
from her self altered.   By the sea stood he  
as a graven stone   grey and hopeless.  
In pain they parted.   Pardon found she  
by her king’s mercy,   and men’s counsel,        110
lest worse befall,   war unholy  
among Christian kings,   while the crows feasted.  
In the courts of Camelot   she was queen again  
great and glorious.   Grace with Arthur  
he sought and found not.   They his sword refused.        115
On that knee no more,   knight in fealty  
might he hilt handle,   nor his head there lay,  
not Lancelot,   love forsaking,  
pardon asking,   with pride humbled.  
Loveforsaken,   from the land banished,        120
from the Round Table’s   royal order  
and his siege glorious   where he sat aforetime  
he went sadly.   The salt water  
lay grey behind him.  
                                   Grief knew Arthur  
in his heart’s secret,   and his house him seemed        125
in mirth minished,   marred in gladness,  
his noblest knight   in his need losing.  
Not alone to his land   over loud waters  
went Lancelot.   Lords of his kindred  
were many and mighty.   At their masts floated        130
the banners of Blamore   and of Bors the strong,  
of Lionel, Lavain,   and loyal Ector,  
Ban’s younger son.   They to Benwick sailed  
Britain forsaking.   In battle no more  
to Arthur’s aid   their arms bore they,        135
but in the towers of Ban   tall and dauntless  
watchful dwelt they,   war refusing,  
Lancelot their lord   with love guarding  
in his days of darkness.   Deep his anguish.  
He lord betrayed   to love yielding,        140
and love forsaking   lord regained not,  
by leagues of sea   from love sundered.  
  
From western havens   word was rumoured  
of Arthur arming   against his own kingdom,  
how a mighty navy   manned with vengeance        145
he swift assembled   that the sudden fury  
of striding storm   stayed and hindered.  
Of the Lord of Logres,   and the leagued treason  
that his throne threatened,   thought he darkly:  
now they need would know   of knights faithful        150
to uphold on high   the holy crown,  
the west still to wield   by the waves’ margin,  
walls defending   against the world’s ruin;  
now they most would miss   the mighty swords  
of Ban’s kindred   and their banners gleaming;        155
now Lancelot   his lord’s battle  
should fill with fire   as a flame shining.  
  
Then half he hoped,   and half wished not,  
to receive summons,   swift commandment,  
to king the allegiance   loyal recalling        160
of Lancelot   to his lord Arthur.  
Of Guinever again   grieving thought he:  
there was woe in Britain,   war was kindled;  
were her faith renewed   firm and steadfast,  
then she stood in danger.   Dear he loved her.        165
Though in wrath she left him,   no ruth showing,  
no pity feeling,   proud and scornful,  
dear he loved her.   When danger threatened,  
if she sent him summons,   swift and gladly  
against tide and tempest   trumpet sounding,        170
he would sail overseas,   sword unsheathing  
in land forlorn   at the last battle  
by his lady bidden,   though his lord shunned him.  
  
But there came neither   from king summons  
nor word from lady.   Only wind journeyed        175
over wide waters   wild and heedless.  
Now Gawain’s glory,   golden riding  
as the westering sun   that the world kindles  
ere he red sinketh   by the rim of ocean,  
before Arthur blazed,   while the East darkened.        180
Guinever hiding   in the grey shadow  
watched and waited,   while the world faltered;  
grimhearted grown   as gladness waned  
danger weighed she   in her dark counsel,  
her hope in havoc,   in her heart thinking        185
men’s fate to mould   to her mind’s purpose.  
And Lancelot   over leagues of sea  
looked and pondered   alone musing  
doubtful-hearted.    Dark had fallen.  
No horn he blew,   no host gathered;        190
he wavered and went not.   Wind was roaring  
the towers trembled   tempest-shaken.  
  
Dawn came dimly.   On the dun beaches  
the foam glimmered   faint and ghostly;  
the tide was turning,   tempest waning.        195
Light leapt upward   from the long shadow,  
and walking on the water   waves kindled,  
as glass glittering   green and silver.  
In sombre sleep   by the sill drooping  
lay Lancelot   alone dreaming;        200
his head was bowed   by the high window.  
His eyes opened   upon early day:  
the wind still walked   in the wide heaven  
lofty faring,   but on lowly earth  
peace had fallen.   Pools reflected        205
the slanting sun   silver gleaming;  
washed with water   the world shimmered;  
bird sang to bird   blithe at morning.  
  
His heart arose,   as were heavy burden  
lightly lifted.   Alone standing        210
with the flame of morn   in his face burning  
the surge he felt   of song forgotten  
in his heart moving   as a harp-music.  
There Lancelot,   low and softly  
to himself singing,   the sun greeted,        215
life from darkness   lifted shining  
in the dome of heaven   by death exalted.  
Ever times would change   and tides alter,  
and o’er hills of morning   hope come striding  
to awake the weary,   while the world lasted.        220
  
The hour he knew not,   that never after  
it would return in time,   tempest bringing,  
to war calling   with the wind’s trumpet.  
The tides of chance   had turned backward,  
their flood was passed   flowing swiftly.        225
Death was before him,   and his day setting  
beyond the tides of time   to return never  
among waking men,   while the world lasted.  

 

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