And out of this she plaited broad and long
A strong sword-belt, and wove with silver thread
And crimson in the belt a strange device,
A crimson grail within a silver beam;
And saw the bright boy-knight, and bound it on him,
Saying: ‘My knight, my love, my knight of heaven,
O thou, my love, whose love is one with mine,
I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind my belt.
Go forth, for thou shalt see what I have seen,
And break thro’ all, till one will crown thee king
Far in the spiritual city;’ and as she spake
She sent the deathless passion in her eyes
Thro’ him, and made him hers, and laid her mind
On him, and he believed in her belief.
“Then came a year of miracle. O brother,
In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,
Fashion’d by Merlin ere he past away,
And carven with strange figures; and in and out
The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll
Of letters in a tongue no man could read.
And Merlin call’d it ‘the Siege Perilous,’
Perilous for good and ill; ‘for there,’ he said,
‘No man could sit but he should lose himself.’
And once by misadvertence Merlin sat
In his own chair, and so was lost; but he,
Galahad, when he heard of Merlin’s doom,
Cried, ‘If I lose myself, I save myself!’
“Then on a summer night it came to pass,
While the great banquet lay along the hall,
That Galahad would sit down in Merlin’s chair.
“And all at once, as there we sat, we heard
A cracking and a riving of the roofs,
And rending, and a blast, and overhead
Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry;
And in the blast there smote along the hall
A beam of light seven times more clear than day;
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail
All over cover’d with a luminous cloud,
And none might see who bare it, and it past.
But every knight beheld his fellow’s face
As in a glory, and all the knights arose,
And staring each at other like dumb men
Stood, till I found a voice and sware a vow.
“I sware a vow before them all, that I,
Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride
A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it,
Until I found and saw it, as the nun
My sister saw it; and Galahad sware the vow,
And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot’s cousin, sware,
And Lancelot sware, and many among the knights,
And Gawain sware, and louder than the rest.”
Then spake the monk Ambrosius, asking him, “What said the King? Did Arthur take the vow?”
“Nay, for my lord,” said Percivale, “the King,
Was not in hall; for early that same day,
Scaped thro’ a cavern from a bandit bold,
An outraged maiden sprang into the hall
Crying on help; for all her shining hair
Was smear’d with earth, and either milky arm
Red-rent with hooks of bramble, and all she wore
Torn as a sail that leaves the rope is torn
In tempest. So the King arose and went
To smoke the scandalous hive of those wild bees
That made such honey in his realm. Howbeit
Some little of this marvel he too saw,
Returning o’er the plain that then began
To darken under Camelot; whence the King
Look’d up, calling aloud, ‘Lo, there! the roofs
Of our great hall are roll’d in thunder-smoke!
Pray heaven, they be not smitten by the bolt!’
For dear to Arthur was that hall of ours,
As having there so oft with all his knights
Feasted, and as the stateliest under heaven.
“O brother, had you known our mighty hall,
Which Merlin built for Arthur long ago!
For all the sacred mount of Camelot,
And all the dim rich city, roof by roof,
Tower after tower, spire beyond spire,
By grove, and garden-lawn, and rushing brook,
Climbs to the mighty hall that Merlin built.
And four great zones of sculpture, set betwixt
With many a mystic symbol, gird the hall;
And in the lowest beasts are slaying men,
And in the second men are slaying beasts,
And on the third are warriors, perfect men,
And on the fourth are men with growing wings,
And over all one statue in the mould
Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a crown,
And peak’d wings pointed to the Northern Star.
And eastward fronts the statue, and the crown
And both the wings are made of gold, and flame
At sunrise till the people in far fields,
Wasted so often by the heathen hordes,
Behold it, crying, ‘We have still a king.’
“And, brother, had you known our hall within,
Broader and higher than any in all the lands!
Where twelve great windows blazon Arthur’s wars,
And all the light that falls upon the board
Streams thro’ the twelve great battles of our King.
Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end,
Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere,
Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur.
And also one to the west, and counter to it,
And blank; and who shall blazon it? when and
how?—
O, there, perchance, when all our wars are done,
The brand Excalibur will be cast away!
“So to this hall full quickly rode the King,
In horror lest the work by Merlin wrought,
Dreamlike, should on the sudden vanish, wrapt
In unremorseful folds of rolling fire.
And in he rode, and up I glanced, and saw
The golden dragon sparkling over all;
And many of those who burnt the hold, their arms
Hack’d, and their foreheads grimed with smoke
and sear’d,
Follow’d, and in among bright faces, ours,
Full of the vision, prest; and then the King
Spake to me, being nearest, ‘Percivale,’—
Because the hall was all in tumult—some
Vowing, and some protesting,—‘What is this?’
“O brother, when I told him what had chanced,
My sister’s vision and the rest, his face
Darken’d, as I have seen it more than once,
When some brave deed seem’d to be done in vain,
Darken; and ‘Woe is me, my knights,’ he cried,
‘Had I been here, ye had not sworn the vow.’
Bold was mine answer, ‘Had thyself been here,
My King, thou wouldst have sworn.’ ‘Yea, yea,’
said he,
‘Art thou so bold and hast not seen the Grail?’
“ ‘Nay, lord, I heard the sound, I saw the light,
But since I did not see the holy thing,
I sware a vow to follow it till I saw.’
“Then when he ask’d us, knight by knight, if any Had seen it, all their answers were as one: ‘Nay, lord, and therefore have we sworn our vows.’
“ ‘Lo, now,’ said Arthur, ‘have ye seen a cloud? What go ye into the wilderness to see?’
“Then Galahad on the sudden, and in a voice
Shrilling along the hall to Arthur, call’d,
‘But I, Sir Arthur, saw the Holy Grail,
I saw the Holy Grail and heard a cry—
�
�O Galahad, and O Galahad, follow me!”
“ ‘Ah, Galahad, Galahad,’ said the King, ‘for such
As thou art is the vision, not for these.
Thy holy nun and thou have seen a sign—
Holier is none, my Percivale, than she—
A sign to maim this Order which I made.
But ye that follow but the leader’s bell,’—
Brother, the King was hard upon his knights,—
‘Taliessin is our fullest throat of song,
And one hath sung and all the dumb will sing.
Lancelot is Lancelot, and hath overborne
Five knights at once, and every younger knight,
Unproven, holds himself as Lancelot,
Till overborne by one, he learns—and ye,
What are ye? Galahads?—no, nor Percivales’—
For thus it pleased the King to range me close
After Sir Galahad;—‘nay,’ said he, ‘but men
With strength and will to right the wrong’d, of power
To lay the sudden heads of violence flat,
Knights that in twelve great battles splash’d and dyed
The strong White Horse in his own heathen blood—
But one hath seen, and all the blind will see.
Go, since your vows are sacred, being made.
Yet—for ye know the cries of all my realm
Pass thro’ this hall—how often, O my knights,
Your places being vacant at my side,
This chance of noble deeds will come and go
Unchallenged, while ye follow wandering fires
Lost in the quagmire! Many of you, yea most,
Return no more. Ye think I show myself
Too dark a prophet. Come now, let us meet
The morrow morn once more in one full field
Of gracious pastime, that once more the King,
Before ye leave him for this quest, may count
The yet-unbroken strength of all his knights,
Rejoicing in that Order which he made.’
“So when the sun broke next from underground,
All the great Table of our Arthur closed
And clash’d in such a tourney and so full,
So many lances broken—never yet
Had Camelot seen the like since Arthur came;
And I myself and Galahad, for a strength
Was in us from the vision, overthrew
So many knights that all the people cried,
And almost burst the barriers in their heat,
Shouting, ‘Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale!’
“But when the next day brake from underground—
O brother, had you known our Camelot,
Built by old kings, age after age, so old
The King himself had fears that it would fall,
So strange, and rich, and dim; for where the roofs
Totter’d toward each other in the sky,
Met foreheads all along the street of those
Who watch’d us pass; and lower, and where the long
Rich galleries, lady-laden, weigh’d the necks
Of dragons clinging to the crazy walls,
Thicker than drops from thunder, showers of flowers
Fell as we past; and men and boys astride
On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan,
At all the corners, named us each by name,
Calling ‘God speed!’ but in the ways below
The knights and ladies wept, and rich and poor
Wept, and the King himself could hardly speak
For grief, and all in middle street the Queen,
Who rode by Lancelot, wail’d and shriek’d aloud,
‘This madness has come on us for our sins.’
So to the Gate of the Three Queens we came,
Where Arthur’s wars are render’d mystically,
And thence departed every one his way.
“And I was lifted up in heart, and thought
Of all my late-shown prowess in the lists,
How my strong lance had beaten down the knights,
So many and famous names; and never yet
Had heaven appear’d so blue, nor earth so green,
For all my blood danced in me, and I knew
That I should light upon the Holy Grail.
“Thereafter, the dark warning of our King,
That most of us would follow wandering fires,
Came like a driving gloom across my mind.
Then every evil word I had spoken once,
And every evil thought I had thought of old,
And every evil deed I ever did,
Awoke and cried, ‘This quest is not for thee.
And lifting up mine eyes, I found myself
Alone, and in a land of sand and thorns,
And I was thirsty even unto death;
And I, too, cried, ‘This quest is not for thee.’
“And on I rode, and when I thought my thirst
Would slay me, saw deep lawns, and then a brook,
With one sharp rapid, where the crisping white
Play’d ever back upon the sloping wave
And took both ear and eye; and o’er the brook
Were apple-trees, and apples by the brook
Fallen, and on the lawns. ‘I will rest here,’
I said, ‘I am not worthy of the quest;’
But even while I drank the brook, and ate,
The goodly apples, all these things at once
Fell into dust, and I was left alone
And thirsting in a land of sand and thorns.
“And then behold a woman at a door
Spinning; and fair the house whereby she sat,
And kind the woman’s eyes and innocent,
And all her bearing gracious; and she rose
Opening her arms to meet me, as who should say,
‘Rest here;’ but when I touch’d her, lo! she, too,
Became no better than a broken shed,
And in it a dead babe; and also this
Fell into dust, and I was left alone.
“And on I rode, and greater was my thirst.
Then flash’d a yellow gleam across the world,
And where it smote the plowshare in the field
The plowman left his plowing and fell down
Before it; where it glitter’d on her pail
The milkmaid left her milking and fell down
Before it, and I knew not why, but thought
‘The sun is rising,’ tho’ the sun had risen.
Then was I ware of one that on me moved
In golden armor with a crown of gold
About a casque all jewels, and his horse
In golden armor jewelled everywhere;
And on the splendor came, flashing me blind.
And seem’d to me the lord of all the world,
Being so huge. But when I thought he meant
To crush me, moving on me, lo! he, too,
Open’d his arms to embrace me as he came,
And up I went and touch’d him, and he, too,
Fell into dust, and I was left alone
And wearying in a land of sand and thorns.
“And I rode on and found a mighty hill,
And on the top a city wall’d; the spires
Prick’d with incredible pinnacles into heaven.
And by the gateway stirr’d a crowd; and these
Cried to me climbing, ‘Welcome, Percivale!
Thou mightiest and thou purest among men!’
And glad was I and clomb, but found at top
No man, nor any voice. And thence I past
Far thro’ a ruinous city, and I saw
That man had once dwelt there; but there I found
Only one man of an exceeding age.
‘Where is that goodly company,’ said I,
‘That so cried out upon me?’ and he had
Scarce any voi
ce to answer, and yet gasp’d,
‘Whence and what art thou?’ and even as he spoke
Fell into dust and disappear’d, and I
Was left alone once more and cried in grief,
‘Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself
And touch it, it will crumble into dust!’
“And thence I dropt into a lowly vale,
Low as the hill was high, and where the vale
Was lowest found a chapel, and thereby
A holy hermit in a hermitage,
To whom I told my phantoms, and he said:
“ ‘O son, thou hast not true humility,
The highest virtue, mother of them all;
For when the Lord of all things made Himself
Naked of glory for His mortal change,
“Take thou my robe,” she said, “for all is thine,”
And all her form shone forth with sudden light
So that the angels were amazed, and she
Follow’d Him down, and like a flying star
Led on the gray-hair’d wisdom of the east.
But her thou hast not known; for what is this
Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins?
Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself
As Galahad.’ When the hermit made an end,
In silver armor suddenly Galahad shone
Before us, and against the chapel door
Laid lance and enter’d, and we knelt in prayer.
And there the hermit slaked my burning thirst,
And at the sacring of the mass I saw
The holy elements alone: but he,
‘Saw ye no more? I, Galahad, saw the Grail,
The Holy Grail, descend upon the shrine.
I saw the fiery face as of a child
That smote itself into the bread and went;
And hither am I come; and never yet
Hath what thy sister taught me first to see.
This holy thing, fail’d from my side, nor come
Cover’d, but moving with me night and day,
Fainter by day, but always in the night
Blood-red, and sliding down the blacken’d marsh
Blood-red, and on the naked mountain top
Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere below