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And let the bodies lie, but bound the snits When now they saw their bulwark fallen, stood ; of armor on their horses, each on each,

On whom the victor, to confound them more, And tied the bridle-reins of all the three

Spurrid with his terrible war-cry; for as one, Together, and said to her, “Drive them on

That listeps near a torrent mountain-brook, Before you ;" and she drove them thro' the waste. All thro' the crash of the near cataract hears

The drumming thunder of the huger fall He follow'd nearer: ruth began to work

At distance, were the soldiers wont to hear Against his anger iu him, while he watch'd

His voice in battle, and be kindled by it, The being he loved best in all the world,

And foemen scared, like that false pair who turn'd With difficulty in mild obedience

Flying, but, overtaken, died the death Driving them on: he fuin bad spoken to her, Themselves had wrought on many an innocent. And loosed in words of sudden fire the wrath And smoulder'd wrong that burnt him all within ; Thereon Geraint, dismounting, pick'd the lance But evermore it seem'd an easier thing

That pleased him best, and drew from those dend At once withont remorse to strike her dead,

wolves Than to cry “ Halt," and to her own bright face Their three gay suits of armor, ench from each, Accuse her of the least immodesty:

And bound them on their horses, each on each, And thus tongae-tied, it made him wroth the more And tied the bridle-reins of all the three That she could speak whom his own ear had heard Together, and said to her, “Drive them on Call herself false: and suffering thus he made Before you," and she drove them thro' the wood. Minutes an age: but in scarce longer time Than at Caerleon the fnll-tided Usk,

He follow'd nearer still: the pain she had Before he turn to fall seaward again,

To keep them in the wild ways of the wood, Pauses, did Enid, keeping watch, behold

Two sets of three laden with jingling arms, In the first shallow shade of a deep wood,

Together, served a little to disedge Before a gloom of stabborn-shafted oaks,

The sharpness of that pain abont her heart: Three other horsemen waiting, wholly arm'd, And they themselves, like creatures gently born, Whereof one seem'd far larger than her lord, But into bad hands fall'n, and now so long And shook her pulses, crying, “Look, a prize! By bandits groom'd, prick'd their light ears, and felt Three horses and three goodly suits of arms,

Her low firm voice and tender government. And all in charge of whom? a girl: set on.” "Nay," said the second, "yonder comes a knight." So thro' the green gloom of the wood they past, The third, “A craven; how he hangs his head." And issuing under open heavens, beheld The giant answerd merrily, “Yea, but one ? A little town with towers, upon a rock, Wait here, and when he passes fall upon him." And close beneath, a meadow, gemlike, chased

In the browu wild, and mowers mowing in it: And Enid ponderd in her heart, and said,

And down a rocky pathway from the place "I will abide the coming of my lord,

There came a fair-bair'd youth, that in his hand And I will tell him all their villainy.

Bare victual for the mowers: and Geraint My lord is weary with the fight before,

Had ruth again on Enid looking pale: And they will fall upon him unawares.

Then, moving downward to the meadow ground, I needs must disobey him for his good ;

He, when the fair-hair'd youth came by him, said, How should I dare obey him to his harm?

“Friend, let her eat; the damsel is so faint." Needs must I speak, and tho' he kill me for it, “Yea, willingly," replied the yonth; "and thou, I save a life dearer to me than mine."

My lord, eat also, tho' the fare is course,

And only meet for mowers;" then set down And she abode his coming, and said to him, His basket, and dismounting on the sward, With timid firmness, “Have I leave to speak?" They let the horses graze, and ate themselves. He said, “Ye take it, speaking," and she spoke. And Enid took a little delicately,

Less having stomach for it than desire “There lurk three villains yonder in the wood, To close with her lord's pleasure ; but Geraint And each of them is wholly arm'd, and one

Ate all the mowers' victual unawares, Is larger-limb'd than you are, and they say

And when he found all empty, was amazed ; That they will fall upon you while ye pass." And, "Boy,” said he, “I have eaten all, but take

A horse and arms for guerdon: choose the best." To which he flung a wrathful answer back: He, reddening in extremity of delight, "And if there were an hundred in the wood, "My lord, yon overpay me fifty-fold." And every man were larger-limb'd than I,

Ye will be all the wealthier,” cried the Prince. And all at once should sally out npon me,

"I take it as free gift, then," said the boy, I swear it would not ruffle me so much

“Not guerdon; for myself can easily, As you that not obey me. Stand aside,

While your good damsel rests, return, and fetch And if I fall, cleave to the better man,"

Fresh victual for these mowers of our Earl :

For these are his, and all the field is his, And Enid stood aside to wait the event,

And I myself am his; and I will tell him Not dare to watch the combat, only breathe How great a man thou art; he loves to know Short fits of prayer, at every stroke a breath. When men of mark are in his territory; And he she dreaded most, bare down upon him. And he will have thee to his palace here, Aim'd at the helm, his lance err'd; but Geraint's, And serve thee costlier than with mowers' fare." A little in the late encounter strain'd, Struck thro' the bulky bandit's corselet home, Then said Geraint, “I wish no better fare: And then brake short, and down his enemy rollid, I never ate with angrier, appetite And there lay still : as he that tells the tale Than when I left your mowers dinnerless, Saw once a great piece of a promontory,

And into no Earl's palace will I go.
That had a sapling growing on it, slide

I know, God knows, too much of palaces !
Prom the long shore-cliff's windy walls to the beach, And if he want me, let him come to me.
And there lie still, and yet the sapling grew: But hire us some fair chamber for the night,
So lay the man transfixt. His craven pair

And stalling for the horses, and retnrn
Of comrades, making slowlier at the Prince, With victual for these men, and let us know."

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Yea, my kind lord," said the glad youth, and | Here in the heart of waste and wilderness.
went,

I thought, but that your father came between,
Held his head high, and thought himself a knight, In former days you saw me favorably.
And up the rocky pathway disappear'd,

And if it were so, do not keep it back:
Leading the horse, and they were left alone. Make me a little happier: let me know it:

Owe you me nothing for a life half-lost?
But when the Prince had brought his errant eyes Yea, yea, the whole dear debt of all you are.
Home from the rock, sideways he let them glauce And, Evid, you and he, I see with joy,
At Enid, where she droopt: his own false doom, Ye sit apart, you do not speak to him,
That shadow of mistrust should never cross

You come with no attendauce, page or maid,
Betwixt them, came upon him, and he sigh'd ; To serve you-doth be love you as of old !
Then with another humorous ruth remark'd

For, call it lovers' quarrels, yet I kuow The lusty mowers laboring dinnerless,

Thu' men may bicker with the things they love, And watch'd the sun blaze on the turning scythe,

They would not make them laughable in all eyes, And after nodded sleepily in the heat.

Not while they loved them; and your wretched But she, remembering her old ruin'd hall,

drese, And all the windy clamor of the daws

A wretched insult on you, dumbly speaks
Above her hollow turret, pluck'd the grass,

Your story, that this man loves you no more.
There growing longest by the meadow's edge, Your beauty is no beauty to him now:
And into many a listless aunulet,

A common chance-right well I know it-pallidNow over, now beneath her marriage ring,

For I know men: nor will ye win him back, Wove and unwove it, till the boy return'd,

For the man's love once gone never returns. And told them of a chamber, and they went;

But here is one who loves you as of old ; Where, after saying to her, "If ye will,

With more exceeding passion than of old:
Call for the woman of the house," to which Good, speak the word: my followers ring him round
She answer'd, “Thanks, my lord;" the two remain'd He sits auarm'd; I hold a finger up;
Apart by all the chamber's width, and mute They understand: nay: I do not mean blood :
As creatures voiceless thro' the fault of birth, Nor need ye look so scared at what I say:
Or two wild men, supporters of a shield,

My malice is no deeper than a moat,
Painted, who stare at open space, nor glance No stronger than a wall: there is the keep;
The one at other, parted by the shield.

He sball not cross us more; speak but the word:

Or speak it not; but then, by Him that made me, On a sudden, many a voice along the street, The one true lover whom you ever own'd, And heel against the pavement echoing, burst I will make use of all the power I have. Their drowse ; and either started while the door, Oh, pardon me! the madness of that hour, Push'd from without, drave backward to the wall, When first I parted from thee, moves me yet." And midmost of a rout of roisterers, Feminiuely fair and dissolutely pale,

At this the tender sound of his own voice
Her snitor in old years before Geraint,

And sweet self-pity, or the fancy of it,
Enter'd, the wild lord of the place, Limours. Made his eye moist ; but Enid feard his eyes,
He, moving up with pliant courtliness,

Moist as they were, wine-heated from the feast:
Greeted Geraint full face, but stealthily,

And answer'd with such craft as women use,
In the mid-warmth of welcome and graspt hana, Guilty or guiltless, to stave off a chance
Found Enid with the corner of his eye,

That breaks upou them perilously, and said:
And knew her sitting sad and solitary.
Then cried Geraint for wine and goodly cheer "Earl, if you love me as in former years,
To feed the sudden guest, and sumptuously,

And do not practise on me, come with morn,
According to his fashion, bade the host

And snatch me from him as by violence; Call in what men soever were his friends,

Leave me to-night: I am weary to the death." And feast with these in honor of their Earl; "And care not for the cost; the cost is mine." Low at leave-taking, with his brandish'd plume

Brushing his instep, bow'd the all-amorons Earl, And wine and food were brought, and Earl Li- And the stout Prince bade him a loud good-uight mours

He, moving homeward, babbled to his men,
Drank till he jested with all ease, and told

How Enid never loved a man but him,
Free tales, and took the word and play'd upon it, Nor cared a broken egg-shell for her lord.
And made it of two colors; for his talk,
When wine and free companions kindled him, But Enid, left alone with Prince Geraint,
Was wout to glance and sparkle like a gem

Debating his command of silence given,
Of fifty facets ; thus he moved the Prince

And that she now perforce must violate it,
To langhter and his comrades to applause.

Held commune with herself, and while she keld
Then, when the Prince was merry, ask'd Limours, He fell asleep, and Enid had no heart
“Your leave, my lord, to cross the room, and speak To wake him, but hung o'er him, wholly pleased
To your good damsel there who sits apart,

To find him yet unwounded after fight,
And seems so lonely!” “My free leave," he said; And hear him brenthing low and equally.
*Get her to speak: she doth not speak to me." Anon she rose, and stepping lightly, heap'd
Then rose Limours, and looking at his feet,

The pieces of his armor in one place,
Like him who tries the bridge he fears may fail, All to be there against a sudden need:
Crost and came near, lifted adoring eyes,

Then dozed awhile herself, but overtoil'd Bow'd at her side and utter'd whisperingly: By that day's grief and travel, evermore

Seem'd catching at a rootless thorn, and then “Enid, the pilot star of my lone life;

Went slipping down horrible precipices, Enid, my early and my only love;

And strongly striking out her limbs, awoke; Enid, the loss of whom hath turu'd me wild- Then thonght she heard the wild Earl at the door, What chance is this? how is it I see you here? With all his rout of random followers, Ye are in my power at last, are in my power. Sound on a dreadful trumpet, summoning her ; Yet fear me not: I call mipe own self wild, Which was the red cock shonting to the light, Bat keep a touch of sweet civility

As the gray dawn stole o'er the dewy world,

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And glimmer'd on his armor in the room.

Half ridden off with by the thing he rode, And once again she rose to look at it,

And all in passion uttering a dry shriek, But touch'd it upawares: jangling, tbe casque Dash'd on Geraint, who closed with him, and bore Fell, and he started up and stared at her.

Down by the length of lance and arm beyond Then breaking his command of silence given, The crupper, and so left him stunu'd or dead, She told him all that Earl Limours had said, And overthrew the next that follow'd him, Except the passage that he loved her not;

And blindly rush'd on all the rout behind. Nor left untold the craft herself had used;

But at the flash and motion of the man But ended with apology so sweet,

They vanish'd, panic-stricken, like a shoal Low-spoken, and of so few words, and seem'd Or darting tish, that on a summer moru So justitied by that necessity,

Adown the crystal dykes at Camelot That tho he thought "was it for him she wept Come slipping o'er their shadows on the sand, In Devon ?" he but gave a wrathful groan,

But if a man who stands upon the brink Saying, “ Your sweet faces make good fellows fools But lift a shiviug hand against the sun, And traitors. Call the host and bid him bring There is not left the twinkle of a tin Charger and palfrey.” So she glided out

Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower ; Among the heavy breathings of the house,

So, scared but at the motion of the man, And like a household Spirit at the walls

Fled all the boou companions of the Earl, Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and return'd: And left him lying in the public way; Then tending her rongh lord, tho' all unask'd, So vanish friendships only made in wine. In silence, did him service as a squire ; Till issuing arm'd, he found the host and cried, Then like a stormy sunlight smiled Geraint, “Thy reckoning, friend?" and ere he learnt it, " Take Who saw the chargers of the two that fell Five horses and their armors ;" and the host, Start from their fallen lords, and wildly fly, Suddenly bonest, answer'd in amaze,

Mixt with the flyers. “Horse and man," he said, “My lord, I scarce have spent the worth of one!" "All of one miud and all right honest friends! “Ye will be all the wealthier," said the Prince, Not a hoof left: and I, methinks, till now And then to Enid, “Forward ! and to-day

Was honest-paid with horses and with arms; I charge you, Enid, more especially,

I cannot steal or plunder, no, nor beg: What thing soever ye may hear, or see,

And so what say ye, shall we strip him there, Or fancy (tho' I count it of small use

Your lover! has your palfrey heart enough To charge you) that ye speak not, but obey." To bear his armor? shall we fast, or dine!

No Y-then do thou, being right honest, pray And Enid answer'd, "Yea, my lord, I know That we may meet the horsemen of Earl Doorm. Your wish, and would obey; but riding first, I too would still be honest." Thus he said: I hear the violent threats you do not hear, And sadly gazing on her bridle-reins, I see the danger which you cannot see:

And answering not one word, she led the way. Then not to give you warning, that seems hard; Almost beyond me; yet I would obey."

But as a man to whom a dreadful loss

Falls in a far land, and he knows it not, “Yea so," said he, "do it: be not too wise ; But coming back, he learns it, and the loss Seeing that ye are wedded to a man,

So pains him that he sickens nigh to death ; Not all mismated with a yawning clown,

So fared it with Geraint, who being prick'd
But one with arms to guard his head and yours, Iu combat with the follower of Limours,
With eyes to find you out, however far,

Bled underneath his armor secretly,
And ears to hear you, even in his dreams." And so rode on, nor told his gentle wife,

What ail'd him, hardly knowing it himself, With that he turn'd and look'd as keenly at her Till his eye darken'd and his helmet wagg'd; As careful robins eye the delver's toil ;

And at a sudden swerving of the road, And that within her, which a wanton fool

Tho' happily down ou a bank of grass, Or hasty judger would have call'd her guilt,

The Prince, without a word, from his horse fell. Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall. And Geraint look'd and was not satisfied.

And Evid heard the clashing of his fall,

Suddenly came, and at his side all pale Then forward by a way which, beaten broad, Dismounting, loosed the fastenings of his arms. Led from the territory of false Limours

Nor let her true hand falter, nor blue eye
To the waste earldom of another earl,

Moisten, till she had lighted on his wound,
Doorm, whom his shaking vassals call'd the Bull, And tearing off her veil of faded silk,
Went Enid with her sullen follower on.

Had bared her forehead to the blistering enn,
Once she look'd back, and when she saw him ride And swath'd the hurt that drain'd her dear lord'a
More near by many a rood than yester-morn,

life. It wellnigh made her cheerful; till Geraint

Then after all was done that hand could do,
Waving an angry hand, as who should say,

She rested, and her desolation came
“Ye watch me," sadden'd all her heart again. Upon her, and she wept beside the way.
But while the sun yet beat a dewy blade,
The sound of many a heavily-galloping hoof

And many past, but none regarded her,
Smote on her ear, and turning round, she saw For in that realm of lawless turbulence,
Dast, and the points of lances bicker in it.

A woman weeping for her murder'd mate Then, not to disobey her lord's behest,

Was cared as much for as a summer shower: And yet to give him warning, for he rode

One took him for a victim of Earl Doorm, As if he heard not, moving back, she held

Nor dared to waste a perilous pity on him: Her finger up, and pointed to the dust.

Another hurrying past, a man-at-arms, At which the warrior in his obstinacy,

Rode on a mission to the bandit Earl; Because she kept the letter of his word,

Half whistling and half singing a coarse song, Was in a manner pleased, and inrning, stood. He drove the dust against her veilless eyes : And in a moment after, wild Limours,

Another, flying from the wrath of Doorm, Borne on a black horse, like a thunder-cloud Before an ever-fancied arrow, made Whose skirts are loosen'd by the breaking storm, The long way smoke beneath him in his fear;

At which her palfrey, whiunying, lifted heel, Feeding like horses when you hear them feed; And scour'd into the coppices and was lost,

Till Euid shrank far back into herself, While the great charger stood, grieved like a man. To shun the wild ways of the lawless tribe.

But when Earl Doorm bad eaten all he would, But at the point of noon the huge Earl Doorm, He rollid his eyes about the hall, and found Broad-faced, with under-friuge of russet beard, A damsel droopivg in a corner of it. Bound on a foray, rolling eyes of prey,

Then he remember'd her, and how she wept ; Came riding with a hundred lances up;

And out of her there came a power upon him; But ere he came, like one that hails a ship,

Aud rising on the sudden, he said, “Eat ! Cried out with a big voice, “What, is he dead?” I never yet beheld a thing so pale. “No, no, not dend !" she answerd in all haste. God's curse, it makes me mad to see you weep. "Would some of your kind people take him up, Eat! Look yourself. Good luck had your good man And bear hins hence out of this cruel suu!

For were I dead, who is it would weep for me? Most sure am I, quite sure, he is not dead." Sweet lady, never since I first drew breath

Have I beheld a lily like yourself.
Then said Earl Doorm : “Well, if he be vot dead, And so there lived some color in your cheek,
Why wail ye for him thus? ye seem a child. There is not one among my gentlewomen
And be he dead, I count you for a fool;

Were fit to wear your slipper for a glove.
Your wailing will not quicken him: dead or not, But listen to me, and by me be ruled,
Ye mar a comely face with idiot tears.

And I will do the thing I have not done,
Yet, since the face is comely-some of you,

For ye shall share my earldom with me, girl,
Here, take him up, and bear him to our hall: And we will live like two birds in one nest,
And if he live, we will have him of our band; And I will fetch you forage from all fields,
And if he die, why earth has earth enough

For I compel all creatures to my will."
To hide him. See ye take the charger too,
A noble one."

He spoke: the brawny spearman let his cheek

Bulge with the answallow'd piece, and turning He spake, and past away,

stared ; But left two brawny spearmen, who advanced, While some, whose souls the old serpent long had Each growling like a dog, when his good bone

drawn Seems to be pluck'd at by the village boys,

Down, as the worm draws in the wither'd leaf Who love to vex hinn eating, and he fears

And makes it earth, hiss'd each at other's ear To lose his bone, and lays his foot npou it,

What shall not be recorded women they, Gnawing and growling: 80 the ruffians growl'd, Woinen, or what had been those gracious things, Fearing to lose, and all for a dead man,

But now desired the humbling of their best, Their chance of booty from the morviug's raid; Yea, would have help'd him to it: and all at once Yet raised and laid him op a littér-bier,

They hated her, who took no thought of them, Such as they brought upon their forays out

But answer'd in low voice, her meek head yet For those that might be wounded ; laid him op it Drooping, “I pray you of your courtesy, All in the hollow of his shield, and took

He being as he is, to let me be." And bore him to the naked hall of Doorm (His gentle charger following him wuled),

She spake so low he hardly heard her speak, And cast him and the bier on which he lay But like a mighty patron, satisfied Down on an oaken settle in the hall,

With what himself had done so graciously, And then departed, hot in baste to join

Assumed that she had thauk'd him, adding, "Yes. Their luckier mates, but growling as before,

Eai and be glad, for I account you mine." And cursing their lost time, and the dead man, And their own Earl, and their own souls, and her. She answer'd meekly, “How should I be glad They might as well have blest her: she was deaf Henceforth in all the world at anything, To blessing or to cursing save from one.

Until my lord arise and look upon me!"

So for long hours sat Enid by her lord,

Ilere the huge Earl cried ont upon her talk, There in the naked hall, propping his head, As all but empty heart and weariness And chafing his pale hands, and calling to liim. And sickly nothing; suddenly seized on her, Till at the last he waken'd from his swoon,

And bare her by main violence to the board, And found his own dear bride propping his head, And thrust the dish before her, crying, “Eat." And chating his faint hands, and calling to him ; And felt the warm tears falling on his face :

No, no," said Enid, vext, “I will not eat And said to his own heart, “She weeps for me:" Till yonder man upon the bier arise, And yet lay still, and feigu'd himself as dead, And eat with me." “Drink, then," he answer'd. That he might prove her to the uttermost,

** Here!" And say to his own heart, “She weeps for me." (And fill'd a horn with wine and held it to her,)

“Lo! I, myself, when flush'd with fight, or hot, But in the falling afternoon return'd

God's curse, with anger-often I myself, The huge Earl Doorm with pluvder to the hall. Before I well have drunken, scarce can eat: His lusty spearmen follow'd him with noise : Drink therefore, and the wine will change your will." Each hurling down a heap of things that rang Against the pavement, cast his lance aside,

“Not so," she cried, “by Heaven, I will not drink And doff'd his helm: and then there fintter'd in, Till my dear lord arise and hid me do it, Half-bold, half-frighted, with dilated eyes,

And drink with me; and if he rise no more, A tribe of women, dress'd in many hnes,

I will not look at wine until I die." And mingled with the spearmen: and Earl Doorm Struck with a knife's haft hard against the board, At this he turn'd all red and paced his hall, And callid for flesh and wine to feed his spears. Now gnaw'd his under, now his upper lip, And men brought in whole hogs and quarter beeves, Aud coming up close to her, said at last: And all the hall was dim with steam of flesh : "Girl, for I see ye scorn my courtesies, And none spake word, but all sat down at once, Take warning: yonder man is surely dead; And ate with tumult in the naked hall,

And I compel all creatures to my will.

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Not eat nor drink? And wherefore wail for one, I do believe yourself against yourself,
Who put your beauty to this flout and scoru

And will henceforward rather die than doubt."
By dressing it iu rags ! Amazed am I,
Beholding how ye butt against my wish,

And Enid could not say one tender word, That I forbear you thus : cross me no more. She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart : At least put off to please me this poor gown, She only pray'd hin, “Fly, they will returu This silken rag, this beggar-woman's weed :

And slay you; fly, your charger is withont, I love that beauty should go beautifully:

My palfrey lost.” “Then, Enid, shall you ride For see ye not my gentlewomen bere,

Behind me." "Yea," said Enid, “let is go."
How gay, how suited to the house of one,

And moving out they fouud the stately horse,
Who loves that beauty should go beautifully ? Who now no more a vassal to the thief,
Rise therefore; robe yourself in this: obey." But free to stretch his limbs in lawful tight,

Neigh'd with all gladness as they came, and stoop'd He spoke, and one among his gentlewomen With a low whinuy toward the pair: and she Display'd a splendid silk of foreigu loom,

Kiss'd the wbite star upon his poble front, Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue

Glad also ; then Geraint npon the horse Play'd into green, and thicker down the front

Mounted, and reach'd a band and on his foot With jewels than the sward with drops of dew, She set her own and climb'd; he turn'd his face Wheu all night long a cloud clings to the hill, And kiss'd her climbing, and she cast her arms And with the dawn ascending lets the day

About bim, and at once they rode away. Strike where it clung: so thickly shone the gems.

And never yet, since high in Paradise But Enid answer'd, harder to be moved

O'er the fuur rivers the first roses blew, Than hardest tyrants in their day of power,

Came purer pleasure unto mortal kiud With life-loug injuries burning unavenged,

Than lived thro' her, who in that periions lour And now their hour has come; and Enid said: Pat hand to hand beneath her husband's heart,

And felt him hers again : she did not weep, "In this poor gown my dear lord found me first, But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist And loved me serving in my father's hall:

Like that which kept the heart of Eden green In this poor gown I rode with him to court, Before the useful trouble of the rain : And there the Queen array'd me like the sun : Yet pot so misty were her meek blue eyes In this poor gown he bade me clothe myself, As not to see before them on the path, When now we rode upon this fatal quest

Right in the gateway of the bandit hold, of honor, where no honor can be gain'd:

A knight of Arthur's court, who laid his lance And this poor gown I will not cast aside

In rest, and made as if to fall upon him. Until himself arise a living man,

Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood, And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough :

She, with her mind all full of what had chanced, Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be:

Shriek'd to the stranger, “Slay not a dead man!" I never loved, can never love but him:

"The voice of Enid," said the kuight; but she, Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness,

Beholding it was Edyru son of Nudd, He being as he is, to let me be."

Was moved so much the more, and shriek'd again,

“O cousin, slay not him who gave you life.” Then strode the brute Earl up and down his hall, And Edyrn, moving frankly forward, spake: And took his russet beard between his teeth; “My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love ; Last, coming np quite close, and in his mood I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm ; Crying, “I count it of no more avail,

And fear not, Euid, I should fall upon him, Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you ; Who love you, Prince, with something of the love Take my salute," unknightly with fat hand,

Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us. However lightly, smote her on the cheek.

For once, when I was up so high iu pride

That I was halfway down the slope to Hell, Then Enid, in her miter helplessness,

By overthrowing me you threw me higber. And since she thonght, “He had not dared to do it, Now, made a koight of Arthur's Table Rondd, Except be surely knew my lord wiis dead,"

And since I knew this Earl, when I myself Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry,

Was half a bandit in my lawless hour, As of a wild thing taken in the trap,

I

come, the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm Which sees the trapper coming thro' the wood. (The King is close behind me), bidding him

Disband himself, and scatter all his powers, This heard Geraint, and grasping at his sword Submit, and hear the judgment of the King." (It lay beside him in the hollow shield), Made but a single bound, and with a sweep of it " He hears the judgment of the King of kings," Shore thro' the swarthy neck, and like a ball Cried the wan Prince ; "and lo, the powers of Doorm The russet-bearded head rollid on the floor.

Are scatter'd," and he pointed to the field, So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead. Where, huddled here and there on mound and knoll, And all the men and women in the hall

Were men and women, staring and aghast, Rose when they saw the dead man rise, and fled While some yet fled ; and then he plainlier told Yelling as from a spectre, and the two

How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall. Were left alone together, and he said :

But when the knight besought him, “Follow me,

Prince, to the camp, and in the King's own ear Enid, I have used you worse than that dead Speak what has chanced : ye surely have endured man :

Strange chances here alone :” that other flush'd, Dope you more wrong: we both have undergone And hung his head, and halted in reply, That tronble which has left me thrice your own : Fearing the mild face of the blameless King, Henceforward I will rather die than doubt.

And after madness acted question ask'd : And here I lay this penance on myself,

Till Edyrn crying, "If ye will not go Not, tho' mine own ears heard you yester-morn- To Arthur, then will Arthur come to yon," You thonght me sleeping, but I heard yon say, "Enough," he said, “I follow," and they went. I heard you say, that you were no true wife: But Enid in their going had two fears, I swear I will not ask your meaning in it:

One from the bandit scatter'd in the field,

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