Idylls of the King Page 4
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
20 Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
25 To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Ask’d me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
30 “Thou hast half prevail’d against me,” said so – he –
Tho’ Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?’
And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Ask’d, ‘Mother, tho’ ye count me still the child,
35 Sweet mother, do ye love the child?’ She laugh’d,
‘Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.’
‘Then, mother, an ye love the child,’ he said,
‘Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child’s story.’ ‘Yea, my well-beloved,
40 An ’twere but of the goose and golden eggs’.
And Gareth answer’d her with kindling eyes,
‘Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
45 Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw
The splendour sparkling from aloft, and thought
50 “An I could climb and lay my hand upon it,
Then were I wealthier than a leash of kings.”
But ever when he reach’d a hand to climb,
One, that had loved him from his childhood, caught
And stay’d him, “Climb not lest thou break thy neck,
55 I charge thee by my love,” and so the boy,
Sweet mother, neither clomb, nor brake his neck,
But brake his very heart in pining for it,
And past away.’
To whom the mother said,
‘True love, sweet son, had risk’d himself and climb’d,
60 And handed down the golden treasure to him.
And Gareth answer’d her with kindling eyes,
‘Gold? said I gold? – ay then, why he, or she,
Or whosoe’er it was, or half the world
Had ventured – had the thing I spake of been
65 Mere gold – but this was all of that true steel,
Whereof they forged the brand Excalibur,
And lightnings play’d about it in the storm,
And all the little fowl were flurried at it,
And there were cries and clashings in the nest,
70 That sent him from his senses: let me go.’
Then Bellicent bemoan’d herself and said,
‘Hast thou no pity upon my loneliness?
Lo, where thy father Lot beside the hearth
Lies like a log, and all but smoulder’d out!
75 For ever since when traitor to the King
He fought against him in the Barons’ war,
And Arthur gave him back his territory,
His age hath slowly droopt, and now lies there
A yet-warm corpse, and yet unburiable,
80 No more; nor sees, nor hears, nor speaks, nor knows.
And both thy brethren are in Arthur’s hall,
Albeit neither loved with that full love
I feel for thee, nor worthy such a love:
Stay therefore thou; red berries charm the bird,
85 And thee, mine innocent, the jousts, the wars,
Who never knewest finger-ache, nor pang
Of wrench’d or broken limb – an often chance
In those brain-stunning shocks, and tourney-falls,
Frights to my heart; but stay: follow the deer
90 By these tall firs and our fast-falling burns;
So make thy manhood mightier day by day;
Sweet is the chase: and I will seek thee out
Some comfortable bride and fair, to grace
Thy climbing life, and cherish my prone year,
95 Till falling into Lot’s forgetfulness
I know not thee, myself, nor anything.
Stay, my best son! ye are yet more boy than man.’
Then Gareth, ‘An ye hold me yet for child,
Hear yet once more the story of the child.
100 For, mother, there was once a King, like ours.
The prince his heir, when tall and marriageable,
Ask’d for a bride; and thereupon the King
Set two before him. One was fair, strong, arm’d –
But to be won by force – and many men
105 Desired her; one, good lack, no man desired.
And these were the conditions of the King:
That save he won the first by force, he needs
Must wed that other, whom no man desired,
A red-faced bride who knew herself so vile,
110 That evermore she long’d to hide herself,
Nor fronted man or woman, eye to eye –
Yea – some she cleaved to, but they died of her.
And one – they call’d her Fame; and one, – O Mother,
How can ye keep me tether’d to you – Shame.
115 Man am I grown, a man’s work must I do.
Follow the deer? follow the Christ, the King,
Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King –
Else, wherefore born?’
To whom the mother said,
‘Sweet son, for there be many who deem him not,
120 Or will not deem him, wholly proven King –
Albeit in mine own heart I knew him King,
When I was frequent with him in my youth,
And heard him Kingly speak, and doubted him
No more than he, himself; but felt him mine,
125 Of closest kin to me: yet – wilt thou leave
Thine easeful biding here, and risk thine all,
Life, limbs, for one that is not proven King?
Stay, till the cloud that settles round his birth
Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweet son.’
130 And Gareth answer’d quickly, ‘Not an hour,
So that ye yield me – I will walk thro’ fire,
Mother, to gain it – your full leave to go.
Not proven, who swept the dust of ruin’d Rome
From off the threshold of the realm, and crush’d
135 The Idolaters, and made the people free?
Who should be King save him who makes us free?’
So when the Queen, who long had sought in vain
To break him from the intent to which he grew,
Found her son’s will unwaveringly one,
140 She answer’d craftily, ‘Will ye walk thro’ fire?
Who walks thro’ fire will hardly heed the smoke.
Ay, go then, an ye must: only one proof,
Before thou ask the King to make thee knight,
Of thine obedience and thy love to me,
Thy mother, – I demand.’
145 And Gareth cried,
‘A hard one, or a hundred, so I go.
Nay – quick! the proof to prove me to the quick!’
But slowly spake the mother looking at him,
‘Prince, thou shalt go disguised to Arthur’s hall,
150 And hire thyself to serve for meats and drinks
Among the scullions and the kitchen-knaves,
And those that hand the dish across the bar.
Nor
shalt thou tell thy name to anyone.
And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth and a day.’
155 For so the Queen believed that when her son
Beheld his only way to glory lead
Low down thro’ villain kitchen-vassalage,
Her own true Gareth was too princely-proud
To pass thereby; so should he rest with her,
160 Closed in her castle from the sound of arms.
Silent awhile was Gareth, then replied,
‘The thrall in person may be free in soul,
And I shall see the jousts. Thy son am I,
And since thou art my mother, must obey.
165 I therefore yield me freely to thy will;
For hence will I, disguised, and hire myself
To serve with scullions and with kitchen-knaves;
Nor tell my name to any – no, not the King.’
Gareth awhile linger’d. The mother’s eye
170 Full of the wistful fear that he would go,
And turning toward him whereso’er he turn’d,
Perplext his outward purpose, till an hour,
When waken’d by the wind which with full voice
Swept bellowing thro’ the darkness on to dawn,
175 He rose, and out of slumber calling two
That still had tended on him from his birth,
Before the wakeful mother heard him, went.
The three were clad like tillers of the soil.
Southward they set their faces. The birds made
180 Melody on branch, and melody in mid air.
The damp hill-slopes were quicken’d into green,
And the live green had kindled into flowers,
For it was past the time of Easterday.
So, when their feet were planted on the plain
185 That broaden’d toward the base of Camelot,
Far off they saw the silver-misty morn
Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,
That rose between the forest and the field.
At times the summit of the high city flash’d;
190 At times the spires and turrets half-way down
Prick’d thro’ the mist; at times the great gate shone
Only, that open’d on the field below:
Anon, the whole fair city had disappear’d.
Then those who went with Gareth were amazed,
195 One crying, ‘Let us go no further, lord.
Here is a city of Enchanters, built
By fairy Kings.’ The second echo’d him,
‘Lord, we have heard from our wise man at home
To Northward, that this King is not the King,
200 But only changeling out of Fairyland,
Who drave the heathen hence by sorcery
And Merlin’s glamour.’ Then the first again,
‘Lord, there is no such city anywhere,
But all a vision.’
Gareth answer’d them
205 With laughter, swearing he had glamour enow
In his own blood, his princedom, youth and hopes,
To plunge old Merlin in the Arabian sea;
So push’d them all unwilling toward the gate.
And there was no gate like it under heaven.
210 For barefoot on the keystone, which was lined
And rippled like an ever-fleeting wave,
The Lady of the Lake stood: all her dress
Wept from her sides as water flowing away;
But like the cross her great and goodly arms
215 Stretch’d under all the cornice and upheld:
And drops of water fell from either hand;
And down from one a sword was hung, from one
A censer, either worn with wind and storm;
And o’er her breast floated the sacred fish;
220 And in the space to left of her, and right,
Were Arthur’s wars in weird devices done,
New things and old co-twisted, as if Time
Were nothing, so inveterately, that men
Were giddy gazing there; and over all
225 High on the top were those three Queens, the friends
Of Arthur, who should help him at his need.
Then those with Gareth for so long a space
Stared at the figures, that at last it seem’d
The dragon-boughts and elvish emblemings
230 Began to move, seethe, twine and curl: they call’d
To Gareth, ‘Lord, the gateway is alive.’
And Gareth likewise on them fixt his eyes
So long, that ev’n to him they seem’d to move.
Out of the city a blast of music peal’d.
235 Back from the gate started the three, to whom
From out thereunder came an ancient man,
Long-bearded, saying, ‘Who be ye, my sons?’
Then Gareth, ‘We be tillers of the soil,
Who leaving share in furrow come to see
240 The glories of our King: but these, my men,
(Your city moved so weirdly in the mist)
Doubt if the King be King at all, or come
From Fairyland; and whether this be built
By magic, and by fairy Kings and Queens;
245 Or whether there be any city at all,
Or all a vision: and this music now
Hath scared them both, but it tell thou these the truth.’
Then that old Seer made answer playing on him
And saying, ‘Son, I have seen the good ship sail
250 Keel upward, and mast downward, in the heavens,
And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air:
And here is truth; but an it please thee not,
Take thou the truth as thou hast told it me.
For truly as thou sayest, a Fairy King
255 And Fairy Queens have built the city, son;
They came from out a sacred mountain-cleft
Toward the sunrise, each with harp in hand,
And built it to the music of their harps.
And, as thou sayest, it is enchanted, son,
260 For there is nothing in it as it seems
Saving the King; tho’ some there be that hold
The King a shadow, and the city real:
Yet take thou heed of him, for, so thou pass
Beneath this archway, then wilt thou become
265 A thrall to his enchantments, for the King
Will bind thee by such vows, as is a shame
A man should not be bound by, yet the which
No man can keep; but, so thou dread to swear,
Pass not beneath this gateway, but abide
270 Without, among the cattle of the field.
For an ye heard a music, like enow
They are building still, seeing the city is built
To music, therefore never built at all,
And therefore built for ever.’
Gareth spake
275 Anger’d, ‘Old Master, reverence thine own beard
That looks as white as utter truth, and seems
Wellnigh as long as thou art statured tall!
Why mockest thou the stranger that hath been
To thee fair-spoken?’
But the Seer replied,
280 ‘Know ye not then the Riddling of the Bards?
“Confusion, and illusion, and relation,
Elusion, and occasion, and evasion”?
I mock thee not but as thou mockest me,
And all that see thee, for thou art not who
285 Thou seemest, but I know thee who thou art.
And now thou goest up to mock the King,
Who cannot brook the shadow of any lie.’
Unmockingly the mocker ending here
290 Turn’d to the right, and past along the plain;
Whom Gareth looking after said, ‘My men,
Our one white lie sits like a little ghost
Here on the threshold of our enterprise.
Let love be blamed for it,
not she, nor I:
Well, we will make amends.’
With all good cheer
295 He spake and laugh’d, then enter’d with his twain
Camelot, a city of shadowy palaces
And stately, rich in emblem and the work
Of ancient kings who did their days in stone;
Which Merlin’s hand, the Mage at Arthur’s court,
300 Knowing all arts, had touch’d, and everywhere
At Arthur’s ordinance, tipt with lessening peak
And pinnacle, and had made it spire to heaven.
And ever and anon a knight would pass
Outward, or inward to the hall: his arms
305 Clash’d; and the sound was good to Gareth’s ear.
And out of bower and casement shyly glanced
Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars of love;
And all about a healthful people stept
As in the presence of a gracious king.
310 Then into hall Gareth ascending heard
A voice, the voice of Arthur, and beheld
Far over heads in that long-vaulted hall
The splendour of the presence of the King
Throned, and delivering doom – and look’d no more –
315 But felt his young heart hammering in his ears,
And thought, ‘For this half-shadow of a lie
The truthful King will doom me when I speak.’
Yet pressing on, tho’ all in fear to find
Sir Gawain or Sir Modred, saw nor one
320 Nor other, but in all the listening eyes
Of those tall knights, that ranged about the throne,
Clear honour shining like the dewy star
Of dawn, and faith in their great King, with pure
Affection, and the light of victory,
325 And glory gain’d, and evermore to gain.
Then came a widow crying to the King,
‘A boon, Sir King! Thy father, Uther, reft
From my dead lord a field with violence:
For howsoe’er at first he proffer’d gold,
330 Yet, for the field was pleasant in our eyes,
We yielded not; and then he reft us of it
Perforce, and left us neither gold nor field.’
Said Arthur, ‘Whether would ye? gold or field?’
To whom the woman weeping, ‘Nay, my lord,
335 The field was pleasant in my husband’s eye.’
And Arthur, ‘Have thy pleasant field again,
And thrice the gold for Uther’s use thereof,
According to the years. No boon is here,
But justice, so thy say be proven true.
340 Accursed, who from the wrongs his father did
Would shape himself a right!’