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God’s angel, standing sinister, Unfurls this scroll—a sable stain : “Who wins the spur shall ply the spur Upon his proper heart and brain.” He gave the sign of malison On traitor knights and perjured men ; And ever by the sea rode on Sir Palamede the Saracen.
… such a questing there resounds As God had loosed the very Pit, Or as a thirty couple hounds Are in its belly as it bounds! Full sick at heart, I ween, was then The loyal knight, the weak of wit, The butt of lewd and puny men, Sir Palamede the Saracen. 37
…c line. And lo! the grain of wit I lack— This Beast is Master of Design. So studying each twisted print In this mirific mind of mine, My heart may happen on a hint.” Thus as the seeker after gold Eagerly chases grain or glint, 61
…nd ice, encounters oft The loathly sprites, the misty shapes Of monster brutes that lurk aloft. O! well he works: his youth returns, His heart revives: despair is doffed D 49
…harbour of his soul To all the pirate-ships of sense. And now the questing of the Beast Rolls in his very self, and high Leaps his whole heart in fiery feast On the expected ecstasy. But echoing from the central roar Reverberates many a mournful moan, And shapes more mystic than before Baffle its formless monotone! Ah! mocks him many a myriad vision, Warring within him masterless, Turning devotion to derision, Beatitude to beastliness. E 65
…the blue impassive South And looking over lordly lands. Oh! high above the envious sea This fortress dominates the tides ; There, ill at heart, the chivalry Of strong Sir Palamede abides. Now comes irruption from the folk That live by murder: day by day The good knight strikes his deadly stroke; The vultures claw the attended prey. But day by day the heathen hordes Gather from dreadful lands afar, A myriad myriad bows and swords, As clouds that blot the morning star. Soon by an arrow from the sea The Lady of Palamede is slain ; His son, in sall…
… From God's sweet air Sir Palamede Hath come unto a demon bog, A city where but rats may breed In sewer-stench and fetid fog. Within its heart pale phantoms crawl. Breathless with foolish haste they jog And jostle, all for naught! They scrawl Vain things all night that they disown Ere day. They call and bawl and squall Hoarse cries; they moan, they groan. A stone Hath better sense! And 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 …
…il Upon the forehead of the spring. Here in a plunging galleon Sir Palamede, a listless drone, Drifts desperately on—and on— And on—with heart and eyes of stone. The deep-scarred brain of him is healed With wind and sea and star and sun, The assoiling grace that God revealed For gree and bounteous benison. Ah! still he trusts the recreant brain, Thrown in a thousand tourney-justs ; Still he raves on in reason-strain With senseless “oughts” and fatuous “ musts.” “ All the delusions ” (argueth The ass), “all uproars, surely rise From that curst M…
… standeth, Palamede ! For twinned with Earthquake laughs her brother The Questing Beast. As Goddes reed Sweats blood for sin, so now the heart Of the good knight begins to bleed. Of all the ruinous shafts that dart Within his liver, this hath plied The most intolerable smart. “ By Goddes wounds!” the good knight cried, “What is this quest, grown daily dafter, Where nothing—nothing—may abide ? Westward!” They fly, but rolling after Echoes the Beast’s unsatisfied And inextinguishable laughter!
…ise. No such a wonder hath been heard Since Christ our God’s sweet sacrifice. “Now, by the glad blood of our Lord!” Quoth Palamede, “ my heart is light. I am the chosen harpsichord Whereon God playeth ; the perfect knight,
…fric 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.” He wrenched in vain; Th…
…O gates of Camelot! See, he swoops Down on the prey! The life-blood pours: The poison works : the breath implores Its livelong debt from heart and brain. Alas! poor stag, thy day is done! The gallant lungs gasp loud in vain: Thy life is spilt upon the plain. Sir Palamede is stricken numb As one who, gazing on the sun, Sees blackness gather. Blank and dumb, The good knight sees a thin breath come Out of his proper mouth, and dart Over the plain : he seeth it Sure by some black magician art Shape ever closer like an hart:
…ot anything, Nor hears, his subtle sense is ’ware That, lackeyed by the devil-king, The Beast—the Questing Beast—is there| So though his heart beats close with fear, 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
104 Yet was his heart immeasurably sad, For that no questing in his ear he had. Nay! he saw all. He saw the Curse That wrapped in ruin the World primeval. He saw the unborn Universe, And all its gods coeval. He saw, and was, all things at once In Him that is ; he was the stars, The moons, the meteors, the suns, All in one net of triune bars; Inextricably one, inevitably one, Immeasurable, immutable, immense Beyond all the wonder that his soul had won By sense, in spite of sense, and beyond sense. “Praise God!” quoth Palamede, “ by this I attain…
…one; the night is come; The lads and lasses sink, awaiting Some climax—oh, how tense and dumb The expectant hush intoxicating! Hush! the heart’s beat! Across the moor Some dreadful god rides fast, be sure ! The listening Palamede bites through His thin white lips—what hoofs are those? Are they the Quest? How still and blue The sky is! Hush—God knows—God knows ! Then on a sudden in the midst of them Is a swart god, from hoof to girdle a goat, Upon his brow the twelve-star diadem And the King’s Collar fastened on his throat. Thrill upon thrill co…