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Page 1 of 21912 · PDF PAGE 93
…ds and fruitless flowers, He grows so maudlin in his love That even the knaves of his own house Mock at him in their merry hours. “God’s death!” raged Palamede, not wroth But irritated, “laugh ye so? Am I a jape for scullions ?” His curse came in a flaky froth. He seized a club, with blow on blow Breaking the knave’s unreverent sconce! “Thou mock the Questing Beast I chase, The Questing Beast I love? ’Od’s wounds!” Then sudden from the slave there brake A cachinnation scant of grace, As if a thirty couple hounds Were in his belly! Knight, awake…
1912 · PDF PAGE 86
80 White as a corpse, the hero hails The dawn, that night of fear still shaking His body. All death’s doubt assails Him. Was it sleep or was it waking? “ By God, I care not, I!” (quod he). “Or wake or sleep, or live or dead, I will pursue this mystery. So help me Grace of Godlihead!” Ay! with thy wasted limbs pursue That subtle Beast home to his den! Who knows but thou mayst win athrough, Sir Palamede the Saracen?
1912 · PDF PAGE 77
…ely couched Upon its breast of burnished gold. “ Ah! by Christ's blood!” (his soul avouched), “ Nothing but change (but change!) abides. Death lurks, a leopard curled and crouched,
1912 · PDF PAGE 119
…t. Then blew Each angel on his trumpet, then All Heaven resounded that it knew Sir Palamede the Saracen Was master! Through the domes of death, Through all the mighty realms of men And spirits breathed the Beauteous Breath : They taste the Goodly Gift of Grace. —Now ’tis the chronicler that saith: Our Saviour grant in little space That also I, even I, be blest Thus, though so evil is my case— Let them that read my rime attest The same sweet unction in my pen— That writes in pure blood of my breast; For that I figure unto men The story of my pro…
1912 · PDF PAGE 95
…ot—at last |!—achieved and ended? Why taste I not the Bounteous Breath, Receive the Goodly Gift of Grace? Now, kind king-eagle (by God’s death !), Restore me to mine ancient place! I am advantaged nothing then!” Then swooped he from the Byss of Space, And set the knight amid the fen. “God!” quoth Sir Palamede, “that I Who have won nine should fail at ten! I set my all upon the die: There is no further trick to try. Call thrice accurséd above men Sir Palamede the Saracen!”
1912 · PDF PAGE 87
…these among A cabbage-headed god they own, With wandering eye and jabbering tongue. He, rotting in that grimy sewer And charnel-house of death and dung, Shrieks : “ How the air is sweet and pure! Give me the entrails of a frog And I will teach thee! Lo! the lure F 81
1912 · PDF PAGE 73
…eless “oughts” and fatuous “ musts.” “ All the delusions ” (argueth The ass), “all uproars, surely rise From that curst Me whose name is Death, Whereas the Questing Beast belies 67
1912 · PDF PAGE 21
…—to ride! Three days: the black horse drops and dies. The trappings furnish them a fire, The beast a meal. With dreadful eyes Stare into death the child, the sire. Six days : the gaunt and gallant knight Sees hateful visions in the day. Where are the antient speed and might Were wont to animate that clay? Nine days; they stumble on; no more His strength avails to bear the child. Still hangs the mist, and still before Yawns the immeasurable wild. Twelve days: the end. Afar he spies The mountains stooping to the plain ; A little splash of sunligh…
1912 · PDF PAGE 18
… a dreadful sting : The fatal die is surely cast. To save the king—to save the king ! Hail! horror of the midnight surge ! The storms of death, the lashing gust, The doubtful gleam of swords that urge Hot laughter with high-leaping lust!
1912 · PDF PAGE 90
…ve this cruel coil! In Afric they that chase the ostrich Clothe them with feathers, subtly foil Its vigilance, come close, then dart Its death upon it. Brave my heart! Do thus!” And so the knight disguises Himself, on hands and knees doth start His hunt, goes questing up and down. So in the fields the peasant clown Flies, shrieking, from that dreadful figure. But when he came to any town They caged him for a lunatic. Quod he: ‘‘ Would God I had the trick! The beast escaped from my devices ; I will the same. The bars are thick, But I am strong.”…
1912 · PDF PAGE 88
… The unknown may lurk within the vile. So he who sought the Beauteous Breath, Desired the Goodly Gift of Grace, Went equal into life and death, But oh! the foulness of his face! Not here was anything of worth ; He turned his back upon the place, Sought the blue sky and the green earth, Ay! and the lustral sea to cleanse That filth that stank about his girth,
1912 · PDF PAGE 92
…it, not by will. And all his lust to win the quest Is but a passive-mild devotion. (Ay! soon the blood shall run right chill —And is not death the Lord of Rest ?) There as he basks upon the cliff He yearns toward the Beast ; his eyes Are moist with love; his lips are fain
1912 · PDF PAGE 102
XXXVII Sir Paramens is sick to death! The staring eyen, the haggard face! God grant to him the Beauteous Breath! God send the Goodly Gift of Grace! There is a white cave by the sea Wherein the knight is hid away. Just ere the night falls, spieth he The sun’s last shaft flicker astray. All day is dark. There, there he mourns His wasted years, his purpose faint. A million whips, a million scorns Make the knight flinch, and stain the saint. For now! what hath he left? He feeds On limpets and wild roots. What odds? There is no need a mortal needs W…
1912 · PDF PAGE 53
…phs, In knowledge easy to amass, This hermit (while he drew his breath) Once dead is like a mangy ass. Bruised, broken, but not bound to death, He calls some passing fishermen To bear him. Presently he saith : 47
1912 · PDF PAGE 117
…alamede the Saracen, As knowing nothing might bestead, When lo! there rose a monster moan, A hugeous cry, a questing dread, As if (God’s death ! ) there coursed alone The Beast, within whose belly sounds That marvellous music monotone As if a thirty couple hounds Quested within him. Now, by Christ And by His pitiful five wounds |— Even as a lover to his tryst, That Beast came questing in the hall, One flame of gold and amethyst, Bodily seen then of them all. Then came he to Sir Palamede, Nestling to him, as sweet and small As a young babe cling…
1912 · PDF PAGE 59
Until the shapes of death advance And gather round her, shrieking loud And wailing o’er the wide expanse Of sand, the gibbering, mewing crowd. Like cats, and apes, they gather close, Till, like the horror of a cloud Wrapping the flaming sun with rose, They hide her from the hero’s sight. Then doth he muse thereat morose, When in one wild cascade of light The pageant breaks, and thunder roars: Down flaps the loathly wing of night. He sees the lonely Breton shores Lapped in the levin: then his eyes See how she shrieking soars and soars Into the s…
1912 · PDF PAGE 103
…h toiled these many years to see, Hath wasted strength, hath wasted youth— He was the Beast; the Beast was he! He rises from the cave of death, Runs to the sea with shining face To know at last the Bounteous Breath, To taste the Goodly Gift of Grace. Ah! Palamede, thou hast mistook! Thou art the butt of all confusion! Not to be written in my book Is this most drastic disillusion! So weak and ill was he, I doubt If he might hear the royal feast Of laughter that came rolling out Afar from that elusive Beast. G 97
1912 · PDF PAGE 112
…launch (This knight's presumptuous head upon) The devastating avalanche? He knows too much, and cares too little! His wound is more than Death can staunch. He can avoid, though by one tittle, Thy surest shaft! And now the knight, Breasting the crags, may laugh and whittle Away the demon-club whose might Threatened him. Now he leaves the spur; And eager, with a boy’s delight,
1912 · PDF PAGE 25
…cry, a monster moan, As if a thirty couple hounds Quested within him. Now God saith (I swear it by His holy wounds And by His lamentable death, And by His holy Mother’s face !) That he shall know the Beauteous Breath And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace Who shall achieve this marvel quest.” Then Arthur sterte up from his place, And sterte up boldly all the rest, And sware to seek this goodly thing. But now the dwarf doth beat his breast, And speak on this wise to the king, That he should worthy knight be found Who with his hands the dwarf should …
1912 · PDF PAGE 83
…, foully nailed Unto the cruel Calvary tree, Look on my soul’s poor fort assailed By all the hosts of devilry ! Is there no medicine but death That shall avail me in my place, That I may know the Beauteous Breath And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace? Keep Thou yet firm this trembling leaf My soul, dear God Who died for men; Yea! for that sinner-soul the chief, Sir Palamede the Saracen!” 77