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34 He was so sick and ill at ease And hot against his fellow men, He thought to end his purpose then— Nay! let him seek new lands and seas, Sir Palamede the Saracen !
24 His nails, and made his penance end, Clothing himself in steel and gold, Arming himself, his life to spend In vigil cold and wandering bold, Disdaining song and dalliance soft, Seeking one purpose to behold, And holding ever that aloft, Nor fearing God, nor heeding men. So thus his hermit habit doffed Sir Palamede the Saracen.
32 And thereto at the end is Hell. Believe! And why believe? Because It is a thing impossible.” Sir Palamede his pulses pause. “It is not possible” (quod he) “That Palamede is wroth, and draws His sword, decapitating thee. By parity of argument This deed of blood must surely be.” With that he suddenly besprent All Scythia with the sage’s blood, And laughing in his woe he went Unto a further field and flood, Aye guided by that wizard’s head, That like a windy moon did scud Before him, winking eyes of red And snapping jaws of white: but then What…
…lict, The ready ruin of its mirth, The flowers, the fruits, the leaves that fall, The joy of life, its growing girth— And nothing as the end of all. Yea, even as the Yang-tze rolled Its rapids past him, so the wall Of things brake down; his eyes behold The mighty Beast serenely 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,
…l, palace, citadel.” So, riding fast among the flowers Far off, a Gothic spire he spies, That like a gladiator towers Its spear-sharp splendour to the skies. The people cluster round, acclaim : “Sir Knight, good knight, thy quest is won. Here dwells the Beast in orient flame, Spring-sweet, and swifter than the sun!” Sir Palamede the Saracen Spurs to the shrine, afire to win The end; and all the urgent men Throng with him eloquently in. Sir Palamede his vizor drops; He lays his loyal lance in rest; He drives the rowels home—he stops! Faugh! but …
… 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 sunlight lies Beyond the everlasting rain. 15
… run to seed! Sir Palamede with fury fumes. So doth the Head that jabbers fast Against that woman’s tangled tale. (God’s patience at the end must fail !) Out sweeps the sword—the blade hath passed Through all her scraggy farthingale. “This chatter lends to Thought a zest ” (Quod he), “but I am all for Act. Sit here, until your Talk hath cracked The addled egg in Nature’s nest!” With that he fled the dismal tract. c 33
…steed, The sun and rose upon his shield? The strange knight spurs to him. Disdain Curls the proud lip as he uplifts His vizor. ‘Come, an end! In vain, Sir Fox, thy thousand turns and shifts!” Sir Palamede was white with fear. Lord Christ! those features were his own; His own that voice so icy clear That cuts him, cuts him to the bone. “False knight! false knight!” the stranger cried. “ Thou bastard dog, Sir Palamede? Iam the good knight fain to ride Upon the Questing Beast at need. 99
…e (Sir Palamedes) in the gap Was found—God knoweth—bitterly Weeping. Cried Arthur: “Strange the hap! My knight, my dearest knight, my friend ! What gift had Fortune in her lap Like thee? Embrace me!” “ Rather rend Your garments, if you love me, sire!” (Quod he). “Iam come unto the end. All mine intent and my desire, My quest, mine oath—all, all is done. Burn them with me in fatal fire! For I have failed. All ways, each one I strove in, mocked me. If I quailed Or shirked, God knows. I have not won: That and no more I know. I failed.” King Arthur…
…ar, Though horror grips his throat, he goes, Goes on to meet it, spear to spear, ; As good knight should, to face his foes. Nay! but the end is come. Black earth Belches that peerless Paladin Up from her gulphs—untimely birth! —Her horror could not hold him in! 79
…ll is to be but the prelude to an attack on Camelot, he maketh a desperate night sortie, and will traverse the wilds of Wales. y. At the end of his resources among the Welsh mountains, he is compelled to put to death his only remaining child. By this sacrifice he saves the world of chivalry. vi. He having become an holy hermit, a certain dwarf, splendidly clothed, cometh to Arthur’s court, bearing tidings of a Questing Beast, The knights fail to lift him, this being the test of worthiness. vii. Lancelot findeth him upon Scawfell, clothed in his…