Idylls of the King by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (read book txt) 📕

up the mere.
Last, Gareth loosed his bonds and on free feet
Set him, a stalwart Baron, Arthur’s friend.

“Well that ye came, or else these caitiff rogues
Had wreaked themselves on me; good cause is theirs
To hate me, for my wont hath ever been
To catch my thief, and then like vermin here
Drown him, and with a stone about his neck;
And under this wan water many of them
Lie rotting, but at night let go the stone,
And rise, and flickering in a grimly light
Dance on the mere. Good now, ye have saved a life
Worth somewhat as the cleanser of this wood.
And fain would I reward thee worshipfully.
What guerdon will ye?”

Gareth sharply spake,
“None! for the deed’s sake have I done the deed,
In uttermost obedience to the King.
But wilt thou yield this damsel harbourage?”

Whereat the Baron saying, “I well believe
You be of Arthur’s Table,” a light laugh
Broke from Lynette, “Ay, truly of a truth,
And in a sort, being Arthur’s kitchen-knave!⁠—
But deem not I accept thee aught the more,
Scullion, for running sharply with thy spit
Down on a rout of craven foresters.
A thresher with his flail had scattered them.
Nay⁠—for thou smellest of the kitchen still.
But an this lord will yield us harbourage,
Well.”

So she spake. A league beyond the wood,
All in a full-fair manor and a rich,
His towers where that day a feast had been
Held in high hall, and many a viand left,
And many a costly cate, received the three.
And there they placed a peacock in his pride
Before the damsel, and the Baron set
Gareth beside her, but at once she rose.

“Meseems, that here is much discourtesy,
Setting this knave, Lord Baron, at my side.
Hear me⁠—this morn I stood in Arthur’s hall,
And prayed the King would grant me Lancelot
To fight the brotherhood of Day and Night⁠—
The last a monster unsubduable
Of any save of him for whom I called⁠—
Suddenly bawls this frontless kitchen-knave,
‘The quest is mine; thy kitchen-knave am I,
And mighty through thy meats and drinks am I.’
Then Arthur all at once gone mad replies,
‘Go therefore,’ and so gives the quest to him⁠—
Him⁠—here⁠—a villain fitter to stick swine
Than ride abroad redressing women’s wrong,
Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman.”

Then half-ashamed and part-amazed, the lord
Now looked at one and now at other, left
The damsel by the peacock in his pride,
And, seating Gareth at another board,
Sat down beside him, ate and then began.

“Friend, whether thou be kitchen-knave, or not,
Or whether it be the maiden’s fantasy,
And whether she be mad, or else the King,
Or both or neither, or thyself be mad,
I ask not: but thou strikest a strong stroke,
For strong thou art and goodly therewithal,
And saver of my life; and therefore now,
For here be mighty men to joust with, weigh
Whether thou wilt not with thy damsel back
To crave again Sir Lancelot of the King.
Thy pardon; I but speak for thine avail,
The saver of my life.”

And Gareth said,
“Full pardon, but I follow up the quest,
Despite of Day and Night and Death and Hell.”

So when, next morn, the lord whose life he saved
Had, some brief space, conveyed them on their way
And left them with God-speed, Sir Gareth spake,
“Lead, and I follow.” Haughtily she replied.

“I fly no more: I allow thee for an hour.
Lion and stout have isled together, knave,
In time of flood. Nay, furthermore, methinks
Some ruth is mine for thee. Back wilt thou, fool?
For hard by here is one will overthrow
And slay thee: then will I to court again,
And shame the King for only yielding me
My champion from the ashes of his hearth.”

To whom Sir Gareth answered courteously,
“Say thou thy say, and I will do my deed.
Allow me for mine hour, and thou wilt find
My fortunes all as fair as hers who lay
Among the ashes and wedded the King’s son.”

Then to the shore of one of those long loops
Wherethrough the serpent river coiled, they came.
Rough-thicketed were the banks and steep; the stream
Full, narrow; this a bridge of single arc
Took at a leap; and on the further side
Arose a silk pavilion, gay with gold
In streaks and rays, and all Lent-lily in hue,
Save that the dome was purple, and above,
Crimson, a slender banneret fluttering.
And therebefore the lawless warrior paced
Unarmed, and calling, “Damsel, is this he,
The champion thou hast brought from Arthur’s hall?
For whom we let thee pass.” “Nay, nay,” she said,
“Sir Morning-Star. The King in utter scorn
Of thee and thy much folly hath sent thee here
His kitchen-knave: and look thou to thyself:
See that he fall not on thee suddenly,
And slay thee unarmed: he is not knight but knave.”

Then at his call, “O daughters of the Dawn,
And servants of the Morning-Star, approach,
Arm me,” from out the silken curtain-folds
Bare-footed and bare-headed three fair girls
In gilt and rosy raiment came: their feet
In dewy grasses glistened; and the hair
All over glanced with dewdrop or with gem
Like sparkles in the stone Avanturine.
These armed him in blue arms, and gave a shield
Blue also, and thereon the morning star.
And Gareth silent gazed upon the knight,
Who stood a moment, ere his horse was brought,
Glorying; and in the stream beneath him, shone
Immingled with Heaven’s azure waveringly,
The gay pavilion and the naked feet,
His arms, the rosy raiment, and the star.

Then she that watched him, “Wherefore stare ye so?
Thou shakest in thy fear: there yet is time:
Flee down the valley before he get to horse.
Who will cry shame? Thou art not knight but knave.”

Said Gareth, “Damsel, whether knave or knight,
Far liefer had I fight a score of times
Than hear thee so missay me and revile.
Fair words were best for him who fights for thee;
But truly foul are better, for they send
That strength of anger through mine arms, I know
That I shall overthrow him.”

And he that bore
The star, when mounted, cried from o’er the bridge,
“A kitchen-knave, and sent in scorn of me!
Such fight not I, but answer scorn with scorn.
For this were shame to do him further wrong
Than set him on his feet, and take his horse
And arms, and so return him to the King.
Come, therefore, leave thy lady lightly, knave.
Avoid: for it beseemeth not a knave
To ride with such a lady.”

“Dog, thou liest.
I spring from loftier lineage than thine own.”
He spake; and all at fiery speed the two
Shocked