IV
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How Arthur returned at morn and by Sir Gawain’s hand won the passage of the sea.

Wolves were howling   on the wood’s border;  
the windy trees   wailed and trembled,  
and wandering leaves   wild and homeless  
drifted dying   in the deep hollows.  
Dark lay the road   through dank valleys        5
among mounting hills   mist-encircled  
to the walls of Wales   in the west frowning  
brownfaced and bare.   To the black mountains  
horsemen hastened,   on the houseless stones  
no track leaving.   Tumbling waters        10
from the fells falling,   foaming in darkness,  
they heard as they passed   to the hidden kingdom.  
Night fell behind.   The noise of hooves  
was lost in silence   in a land of shadow.  

 

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Dawn came dimly.   On the dark faces        15
of the old mountains   eastward staring  
light was kindled.   The land shimmered.  
Sun came shining.   Silver morning  
bathed in water   bright ascended  
the bare heaven   blue and lofty.        20
Beams fell slanting    through the boughs of trees  
glancing and glimmering   in the grey forest;  
rain drops running   from rustling leaves  
like drops of glass   dripped and glistened.  
No beast was stirring:   the birds listened.        25
As wary as wolves   through the wood stalking  
to the marches rode there   Mordred’s hunters,  
huge and hungry   hounds beside them  
the fewte followed   fiercely baying.  
The queen they hunted   with cold hatred        30
till their hope failed them   amid houseless stones,  
halting hungry-eyed   under the hills’ menace  
at the walls of Wales.   War was behind them  
and woe in Britain.   Winds were shifting,  
Mordred waiting.  
                                 Their message found him35
by the seaward cliffs   in the south-country  
sheer and shining.   Upon shaven grass  
his tents were marshalled,   as a town clustered  
with lanes and alleys   loud with voices  
in the dales hidden   and on downs rising        40
above Romeril   where running water  
to the shore had cloven   a shallow pathway.  
From the East, from Angel   and the isles of mist,  
there kings of Almain   their craft mustered,  
under cliff crowding   their carven prows        45
and black banners   in the breeze flying.  
Fair wind came foaming   over flecked water,  
on gleaming shingle   green and silver  
the waves were washing   on walls of chalk.  
On a mound of grass   Mordred stood there:        50
ever gazed his eyes   out and southward,  
lest Arthur’s ships   unawares to shore  
the winds should waft.   Watchmen he posted  
by the sea’s margin   in the south-country,  
by night and day   the narrow waters        55
from the hills to heed.   There on high raised he  
builded beacons   that should blaze with fire,  
if Arthur came,   to his aid calling  
his men to muster   where he most needed.  
Thus he watched and waited   and the wind studied. 60
  
Ivor hailed him   with eager voice  
by his tent standing   tall and brooding;  
words unwelcome   from the West brought he.  
‘O King!’ he cried,   ‘the Queen is lost!  
Her trail faded   in the trackless stones;        65
hound and hunter   in the hills faltered.  
To the hidden kingdom   and the holy vales  
where Leodegrance   once long ago  
lived beleaguered,   lord enchanted,  
she hath fled and is free.   But few love her.        70
Fear her no longer,   the fay-woman!  
Fell fate take her!   May her feet never  
return hither   to trouble Mordred!  
From thy mind thrust her!   With men deal thou,  
woman forsaking   and to war turning!        75
Thine hour is at hand.’   Then his eyes wavered  
and his tongue halted.   Turning slowly  
with frown of thunder   fiercely Mordred  
gazed on him glaring.   ‘Begone!’ cried he.  
‘The master’s hour   master chooseth.        80
Nought thou knowest.   At need failing  
from vain errand   dost venture home  
with tongue untamed   to teach Mordred  
thy fool’s counsel?   Flee mine anger  
unto foul fortune.   The fiend take thee!’        85
  
Alone then long   lowering paced he.  
In his bosom there burned   under black shadow  
a smouldering fire   whose smoke choked him;  
his mind wavered   in a maze walking  
between fear and fury.   At first his thought        90
hunger-hunted   from his hold wandered  
by lust allured   to its long torment.  
But he guessed that Guinever   had greeting sent  
by secret servant   over sea speeding  
to Lancelot,   love recalling        95
and his aid asking   in her evil day.  
Should Ban’s kindred   to battle hasten  
and the fair lily   on the field sable  
once more be seen   marching proudly  
Arthur to strengthen,   ill were boded        100
to his plot and purpose.   Thus he pondered long.  
For Lancelot,   lord of Benwick,  
most he hated   and yet most dreaded,  
and words of witchcraft   well remembered  
that lords of Benwick   the lily bearing        105
in open battle   should he ever challenge  
he would reap ruin.   Thus wrath with cunning,  
doubt with daring   in his dark counsel  
warred uncertain.   The wind lessened.  
In cloudless sky   clear and golden        110
the sun at evening   summer rekindled  
in a glow sinking.   The sea glimmered  
under streaming stars   in the steep heaven.  
Day followed day.   Dawn came brightly  
with a breeze blowing   blithe at morning        115
cool and keenwingéd.   A cry woke him.  
‘A sail, a sail   on the sea shining!’  
Watchmen were calling,   wailing voices  
from ward to ward   the wind carried,  
and grasping brands   guards by the beacons        120
wakeful waited.   No word gave he.  
Eager went his eyes   out and southward,  
and sails saw he   on the sea climbing.  
Thus came Arthur   at early morn  
at last returning   to his lost kingdom.        125
On his shrouds there shone   sheen with silver  
a white lady   in holy arms  
a babe bearing   born of maiden.  
Sun shone through them.   The sea sparkled.  
Men marked it well,   Mordred knew it,        130
Arthur’s ensign.   Yet his eyes wandered;  
for the banner of Benwick   breathless looked he,  
silver upon sable.   But he saw it not.  
The fair flower-de-luce   on its field withered  
drooping in darkness.   Doom came nearer.        135
The sun mounted   and the sails whitened.  
Far over the sea   faintly sounding  
trumpets heard they.   Towering upward  
from Arthur’s side   eager hastened  
a mighty ship   in the morn gleaming        140
high, white-timbered,   with hull gilded;  
on its sail was sewn   a sun rising,  
on its broidered banner   in the breeze floated  
a fiery griffon   golden flaming.  
Thus came Gawain   his king guarding        145
valiant-hearted    the vaward leading:  
a hundred ships   with hulls shining  
and shrouds swelling   and shields swinging.  
Behind beheld they   the host faring:  
deepweighed dromonds   and drawn barges,        150
galleys and galleons   with gear of war,  
six hundred sail   in the sun turning,  
fair sight and fell.   Flags were streaming;  
ten thousand told   targes hung there  
bright on the bulwarks,   blazons of princes        155
and knights of the North   and the nine kingdoms  
of Britain the blessed.   But Ban’s kindred,  
and Lancelot   with his lilies came not.  
  
Then Mordred laughed   loud and mirthless.  
Word he shouted.   Wild were the trumpets.        160
Beacons were blazing,   banners were lifted,  
shaft rang on shield,   and the shores echoed.  
War was awakened   and woe in Britain.  
Thus came Arthur   to his own kingdom  
in power and majesty   proud returning        165
to Romeril   where running slowly  
by the shore now weeps   a shuddering water.  
Sun shone on swords.   Silver-pointed  
the spears sparkled   as they sprang upward,  
white as wheatfield.   Wheeling above them        170
the crows were crying   with cold voices.  
In the foaming sea   flashed a thousand  
swift oars sweeping.   Saxon chieftains  
at their stems standing   sternly shouted;  
blades they brandished   and broad axes,        175
on their gods calling   with grim voices.  
With dread faces   dragon-prowed they spurred  
their sea-horses   to sudden onset,  
swerving swifly   and swinging inward.  
Beak met bulwark.   Burst were timbers.        180
There was clang of iron   and crash of axes;  
sparked and splintered   spears and helmets;  
the smiths of battle   on smitten anvils  
there dinned and hammered   deadly forging  
wrath and ruin.   Red their hands were.        185
About Prydwen pressed they,   the proud and fair,  
the ship of Arthur   with sheen of silver.  
  
Then Gawain sounded   his glad trumpet.  
His great galleon   golden shining  
as thunder riding   thrust among them        190
with wind behind her.   In her wake followed  
lieges of Lothian,   lords and captains.  
Oars were splintered.   Iron clave timber,  
and ropes were riven.   With rending crash  
masts dismantled   as mountain-trees        195
rushed down rattling   in the roar of battle.  
Now grim Galuth   Gawain brandished  
his sword renowned – smiths enchanted  
ere Rome was built   with runes marked it  
and its steel tempered   strong and deadly –        200
forth leapt he as fire   a flame wielding.  
The king of Gothland   on his carven prow  
he smote to death   and to sea drave him;  
upon lords of Lochlan   lightning hurled he,  
helms boar-crested,   heathen standards        205
hewed asunder.   High rang his voice  
‘Arthur’ calling.   The air trembled  
with thunderous answer   thousandfolded.  
As straw from storm,   as stalks falling  
before reapers ruthless,   as roke flying        210
before the rising sun   wrathful blazing  
his foemen fled.   Fear o’ercame them.  
From board and beam   beaten fell they,  
in the sea they sank   their souls losing.  
Boats were blazing,   burned and smoking;        215
some on shore shivered   to shards broken.  
Red ran the tide   the rocks staining.  
Shields on the water   shorn and splintered  
as flotsam floated.   Few saved their lives  
broken and bleeding   from that battle flying.        220
Thus came Arthur   to his own kingdom  
and the sea’s passage   with the sword conquered,  
Gawain leading.   Now his glory shone  
as the star of noon   stern and cloudless  
o’er the heads of men   to its height climbing        225
ere it fall and fail.   Fate yet waited.  
Tide was turning.   Timbers broken,  
dead men and drowned,   a dark jetsam,  
were left to lie   on the long beaches;  
rocks robed with red   rose from water.        230

 

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