And overthrower from being overthrown.

With sword we have not striven; and thy good horse

And thou art weary; yet not less I felt

Thy manhood thro' that wearied lance of thine.

Well hast thou done; for all the stream is freed,

And thou hast wreak'd his justice on his foes,

And when reviled, hast answer'd graciously,

And makest merry, when overthrown. Prince Knight,

Hail, Knight and Prince, and of our Table Round!"

And then when turning to Lynette he told

The tale of Gareth, petulantly she said,

"Ay well-ay well-for worse than being fool'd

Of others, is to fool one's self. A cave, Sir Lancelot is hard by, with meats and drinks

And forage for the horse, and flint for fire.

But all about it flies a honeysuckle. Seek, till we find." And when they sought and found,

Sir Gareth drank and ate, and all his life

Past into sleep; on whom the maiden gazed.

"Sound sleep be thine! sound cause to sleep hast thou.

Wake lusty! Seem I not as tender to

And Gareth, wakening, fiercely clutch'd the shield;

Ramp, ye lance-splintering lions, on whom all spears

Are rotten sticks! yo seem agape to roar!

Yea, ramp and roar at leaving of your lord!

Care not, good beasts, so well I care for you.

O noble Lancelot, from my hold on these

Streams virtue-fire-thro' one that will not shame

Even the shadow of Lancelot under shield. Hence: let us go."

Silent the silent field They traversed. Arthur's harp thro' summer-wan,

In counter motion to the clouds, allured

The glance of Gareth dreaming on his liege.

A star shot: "Lo," said Gareth, "the

foe falls!"

An owl whoopt: "Hark the victor pealing there!"

Suddenly she that rode upon his left Clung to the shield that Lancelot lent him, crying.

"Yield, yield him this again: 'tis he must fight:

I curse the tongue that all thro' yesterday

Reviled thee, and hath wrought on Lancelot now

To lend thee horse and shield: wonders ye have done;

Miracles ye cannot here is glory enow In having flung the three: I see thee maim'd,

Mangled: I swear thou canst not fling the fourth."

"And wherefore, damsel? tell me all ye know.

Yo cannot scare me; nor rough face, or voice,

Brute bulk of limb, or boundless savagery

Appall me from the quest."

"Nay, Prince," she cried, "God wot, I never look'd upon the face,

Seeing he never rides abroad by day; But watch'd him have I like a phan

tom pass

Chilling the night: nor have I heard the voice.

Always he made his mouthpiece of a page

Who came and went, and still reported him

As closing in himself the strength of

ten.

And when his anger tare him, massacring

Man, woman, lad and girl-yea the soft babe

Some hold that he hath swallow'd infant flesh,

Monster! O prince, I went for Lancelot first,

The quest is Lancelot's give him back the shield."

Said Gareth laughing, “An he fight for this,

Belike he wins it as the better man : Thus-and not else?"

They hate the King, and Lancelot, the King's friend,

They hoped to slay him somewhere on the stream,

They never dream'd the passes could be past."

Then sprang the happier day from underground:

And Lady Lyonors and her house, with dance

And revel and song, made merry over Death,

As being after all their foolish fears And horrors only proven a blooming boy.

So large mirth lived and Gareth won the quest.

And he that told the tale in older times

Says that Sir Gareth wedded Lyonors, But he, that told it later, says Lynette.

Array'd and deck'd her, as the loveliest, Next after her own self, in all the court.

And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart

Adored her, as the stateliest and the best

And loveliest of all women upon earth. And seeing them so tender and so

close,

Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint.

But when a rumor rose about the Queen, Touching her guilty love for Lancelot, Tho' yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard

The world's loud whisper breaking into storm,

Not less Gerain; believed it ; and there fell

A horror on him, lest his gentle wife, Thro' that great tenderness for Guinevere,

Had suffer'd, or should suffer any taint

In nature wherefore going to the king.

He made this pretext, that his princedom lay

Close on the borders of a territory, Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights,

Assassins, and all fliers from the hand Of Justice, and whatever loathes a law:

And therefore, till the king himself

should please

To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm,

He craved a fair permission to depart, And there defend his marches; and

the king

Mused for a little on his plea, but, last, Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode,

And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores

Of Severn, and they past to their own land,

Where, thinking, that if ever yet was wife

True to her lord, mine shall be so to

Low to her own heart piteously sho said:

"O noble breast and all-puissant arms,

Am I the cause, I the poor cause that

men

Reproach you, saying all your force is

gone?

I am the cause because I dare not

speak

And tell him what I think and what

they say.

And yet I hate that he should linger

here;

I cannot love my lord and not his

name.

Far liever had I gird his harness on him,

And ride with him to battle and stand by,

And watch his mightful hand striking great blows

mine eyes,

And yet not dare to tell him what I think,

And how men slur him, saying all his force

Is melted into mere effeminacy?
O me, I fear that I am no true wife."

Half inwardly, half audibly she
spoke,

And the strong passion in her made her weep

True tears upon his broad and naked breast,

And these awoke him, and by great mischance

He heard but fragments of her later words,

And that she fear'd she was not a true wife.

And then he thought, " In spite of all my care,

For all iny pains, poor man, for all my pains.

She is not faithful to me, and I see her Weeping for some gay knight in Arthur's hall."

Then tho' he loved and reverenced her too much

To dream she could be guilty of foul act,

Right thro' his manful breast darted

the pang

That makes a man, in the sweet face of her

Whom he loves most, lonely and mis

erable.

Then she bethough ther of a faded silk,
A faded mantle and a faded veil,
And moving toward a cedarn cabinet,
Wherein she kept them folded rever-
ently

With sprigs of summer laid between the folds,

She took them, and array'd herself therein,

Remembering when first he came on her

Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it,

And all her foolish fears about the dress,

And all his journey to her, as himself Had told her, and their coming to the court.

To join them, glancing like a dragonfly

In summer suit and silks of holiday. Low bow'd the tributary Prince, and

she,