King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap Left by the Holy Quest;and as he sat In hall at old Caerleon,the high doors Were softly sundered,and through these a youth,Pelleas,and the sweet smell of the fields Past,and the sunshine came along with him.
'Make me thy knight,because I know,Sir King,All that belongs to knighthood,and I love.'
Such was his cry:for having heard the King Had let proclaim a tournament--the prize A golden circlet and a knightly sword,Full fain had Pelleas for his lady won The golden circlet,for himself the sword:
And there were those who knew him near the King,And promised for him:and Arthur made him knight.
And this new knight,Sir Pelleas of the isles--But lately come to his inheritance,And lord of many a barren isle was he--Riding at noon,a day or twain before,Across the forest called of Dean,to find Caerleon and the King,had felt the sun Beat like a strong knight on his helm,and reeled Almost to falling from his horse;but saw Near him a mound of even-sloping side,Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew,And here and there great hollies under them;But for a mile all round was open space,And fern and heath:and slowly Pelleas drew To that dim day,then binding his good horse To a tree,cast himself down;and as he lay At random looking over the brown earth Through that green-glooming twilight of the grove,It seemed to Pelleas that the fern without Burnt as a living fire of emeralds,So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it.
Then o'er it crost the dimness of a cloud Floating,and once the shadow of a bird Flying,and then a fawn;and his eyes closed.
And since he loved all maidens,but no maid In special,half-awake he whispered,'Where?
O where?I love thee,though I know thee not.
For fair thou art and pure as Guinevere,And I will make thee with my spear and sword As famous--O my Queen,my Guinevere,For I will be thine Arthur when we meet.'
Suddenly wakened with a sound of talk And laughter at the limit of the wood,And glancing through the hoary boles,he saw,Strange as to some old prophet might have seemed A vision hovering on a sea of fire,Damsels in divers colours like the cloud Of sunset and sunrise,and all of them On horses,and the horses richly trapt Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood:
And all the damsels talked confusedly,And one was pointing this way,and one that,Because the way was lost.
And Pelleas rose,And loosed his horse,and led him to the light.
There she that seemed the chief among them said,'In happy time behold our pilot-star!
Youth,we are damsels-errant,and we ride,Armed as ye see,to tilt against the knights There at Caerleon,but have lost our way:
To right?to left?straight forward?back again?
Which?tell us quickly.'
Pelleas gazing thought,'Is Guinevere herself so beautiful?'
For large her violet eyes looked,and her bloom A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens,And round her limbs,mature in womanhood;And slender was her hand and small her shape;And but for those large eyes,the haunts of scorn,She might have seemed a toy to trifle with,And pass and care no more.But while he gazed The beauty of her flesh abashed the boy,As though it were the beauty of her soul:
For as the base man,judging of the good,Puts his own baseness in him by default Of will and nature,so did Pelleas lend All the young beauty of his own soul to hers,Believing her;and when she spake to him,Stammered,and could not make her a reply.
For out of the waste islands had he come,Where saving his own sisters he had known Scarce any but the women of his isles,Rough wives,that laughed and screamed against the gulls,Makers of nets,and living from the sea.
Then with a slow smile turned the lady round And looked upon her people;and as when A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn,The circle widens till it lip the marge,Spread the slow smile through all her company.
Three knights were thereamong;and they too smiled,Scorning him;for the lady was Ettarre,And she was a great lady in her land.
Again she said,'O wild and of the woods,Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech?
Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face,Lacking a tongue?'
'O damsel,'answered he,'I woke from dreams;and coming out of gloom Was dazzled by the sudden light,and crave Pardon:but will ye to Caerleon?IGo likewise:shall I lead you to the King?'
'Lead then,'she said;and through the woods they went.
And while they rode,the meaning in his eyes,His tenderness of manner,and chaste awe,His broken utterances and bashfulness,Were all a burthen to her,and in her heart She muttered,'I have lighted on a fool,Raw,yet so stale!'But since her mind was bent On hearing,after trumpet blown,her name And title,'Queen of Beauty,'in the lists Cried--and beholding him so strong,she thought That peradventure he will fight for me,And win the circlet:therefore flattered him,Being so gracious,that he wellnigh deemed His wish by hers was echoed;and her knights And all her damsels too were gracious to him,For she was a great lady.
And when they reached Caerleon,ere they past to lodging,she,Taking his hand,'O the strong hand,'she said,'See!look at mine!but wilt thou fight for me,And win me this fine circlet,Pelleas,That I may love thee?'
Then his helpless heart Leapt,and he cried,'Ay!wilt thou if I win?'
'Ay,that will I,'she answered,and she laughed,And straitly nipt the hand,and flung it from her;Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers,Till all her ladies laughed along with her.
'O happy world,'thought Pelleas,'all,meseems,Are happy;I the happiest of them all.'
Nor slept that night for pleasure in his blood,And green wood-ways,and eyes among the leaves;Then being on the morrow knighted,sware To love one only.And as he came away,The men who met him rounded on their heels And wondered after him,because his face Shone like the countenance of a priest of old Against the flame about a sacrifice Kindled by fire from heaven:so glad was he.
