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Us marsh-lights to forget the sun? There is one man of mortal men Worthy to win this benison, Sir Palamede the Saracen.” Then went the applauding murmur round : Sir Lancelot girt him there and then To ride to that enchanted ground Where amid timeless snows the den Of Palamedes might be found. 21
…d mutters maledictions rude, Seeing his quarry far and loth And thieves despoiling all the bait. Now, careless of the knightly oath, The sun pours down his eastern gate. The chase is over: see ye then, Coursing afar, afoam at fate, Sir Palamede the Saracen !
… a swift canoe, Paddled by stalwart South Sea men. They cleave the oily breasts of blue, Straining toward the westering disk Of the tall sun; they battle through Those weary days; the wind is brisk; The stars are clear; the moon is high. Now, even as a white basilisk That slayeth all men with his eye, Stands up before them tapering The cone of speechless sanctity. Up, up its slopes the pilgrims swing, Chanting their pagan gramarye Unto the dread volcano-king. “ Now, then, by Goddes reed!” quod he, “ Behold the secret of my quest In this far-fam…
…Following exultant into fight Sir Palamede the Saracen. Now when a year and day are done Sir Palamedes is aware Of blue pavilions in the sun, And bannerets fluttering in the air. Forward he spurs; his armour gleams; Then on his haunches rears the steed; Above the lordly silk there streams The pennon of Sir Palamede! Aflame, a bridegroom to his spouse, He rides to meet with galliard grace Some scion of his holy house, Or germane to his royal race.
…ds dwell. There came an eagle from the height And bade him mount. From dale to dell They sank and soared. Last to the light Of the great sun himself they flew, Piercing the borders of the night, Passing the irremeable blue. Far into space beyond the stars At last they came. And there he knew All the blind reasonable bars Broken, and all the emotions stilled, And all the stains and all the scars Left him; so like a child he thrilled With utmost knowledge; all his soul, With perfect sense and sight fulfilled,
…r 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 a black-mouthed money-chest! 63
…ching the dwarf but with his finger, hurleth him to the heaven, viii. Sir Palamede, riding forth on the quest, seeth a Druid worship the sun upon Stonehenge. He rideth eastward, and findeth the sun setting in the west. Furious he taketh a Viking ship, and by sword and whip fareth seaward. ix. Coming to India, he learneth that It glittereth. Vainly fighting the waves, the leaves, and the snows, he is swept in the Himalayas as by an avalanche into a valley where dwell certain ascetics, who pelt him with their eyeballs. x. Seeking It as Majesty, h…
…rifts 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 Me whose name is Death, Whereas the Questing Beast belies 67
58 XXI Now doth Sir Palamede advance The lord of many a sword and lance. In merrie England’s summer sun Their shields and arms a-glittering glance And laugh upon the mossy mead. Now winds the horn of Palamede, As far upon the horizon He spies the Questing Beast a-feed. With loyal craft and honest guile They spread their ranks for many a mile. For when the Beast hath heard the horn He practiseth his ancient wile, And many a myriad beasts invade The stillness of that arméd glade. Now every knight to rest hath borne His lance, and given the accola…
…raced, his lance in rest. Now, then, God save thee, Palamede! Who courseth yonder on the field? Those silver arms, that sable 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…
… 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 Who hath loosed man’s hope to grasp at God's! How his head swims! At night what stirs Above the faint wash of the tid…
…. But no! Sir Palamedes grips The hermit by the woebegone Beard of him; then away he rips, Wood as a maniac, to the West, Where down the sun in splendour slips, And where the quarry of the quest Canters. They run lik e hippogriffs! Like men pursued, or swine possessed, Over the dizzy Cretan cliffs They smash. And lo! it comes to pass He sees in no dim hieroglyphs, 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.…
…urned My sword ; but now the Paynim bars Are broke, and men to virtue turned : Therefore I sit upon the scars Amid my beard, even as the sun Sits in the company of the stars!” Then Lancelot bade this deed be done, The achievement of the Questing Beast. Which when he spoke that holy one Rose up, and gat him to the east With Lancelot; when as they drew Unto the palace and the feast He put his littlest finger to The dwarf, who rose to upper air, Piercing the far eternal blue Beyond the reach of song or prayer. Then did Sir Palamede amend His naked…
… 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:
…; Nor beast, nor bird, span space. Immense, Black rain, grey mist, white wrath of gales, Fill the dread armoury of sense. Nor shines the sun; nor moon, nor star Their subtle light at all display ; Nor day, nor night, dispute the scaur: All’s one intolerable grey. Black Ilyns, grey rocks, white hills of snow! No flower, no colour: life is not. This is no way for men to go From Severn-mouth to Camelot. Despair, the world upon his speed, Drive (like a lion from his den Whom hunger hunts) the man at need, Sir Palamede the Saracen.
…anse 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 starless, stormy skies. Well! well! this lesson will he learn, How music’s mellowing artifice May bid…
…. Then doth the Questing Marvel crest The ridge: the knight is well outrun. Now, adding laughter to its din, Like some lewd comet at the sun, Around the panting paladin It runs with all its splendid speed. Yet, knowing that he may not win,
…him. Now abate His pulses ; he threads through the vale, And turns him to the mighty gate, The glacier. Oh, the flowers that scale Those sun-kissed heights! The snows that crown The quartz ravines! The clouds that veil The awful slopes! Dear God! look down And see this petty man move on, Relentless as Thine own renown, Careless of praise or orison, Simply determined. Wilt Thou 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, …
…s darling staked against the world | Will he die there, his task undone? Or dare he live, at such a cost? He cries against the impassive sun : The world is dim, is all but lost. Then, with the bitterness of death Cutting his soul, his fingers clench The piteous passage of her breath. The dews of horror rise and drench Sir Palamede the Saracen. Then, rising from the hideous meal, He plunges to the land of men With nerves renewed and limbs of steel. Who is the naked man that rides Yon tameless stallion on the plain, His face like Hell's? What fur…