Idylls of the King (Unabridged). Alfred Tennyson

      The Cave Scene

      For one — delayed at first

       Through helping back the dislocated Kay

       To Camelot, then by what thereafter chanced,

       The damsel’s headlong error through the wood —

       Sir Lancelot, having swum the river-loops —

       His blue shield-lions covered — softly drew

       Behind the twain, and when he saw the star

       Gleam, on Sir Gareth’s turning to him, cried,

       ‘Stay, felon knight, I avenge me for my friend.’

       And Gareth crying pricked against the cry;

       But when they closed — in a moment — at one touch

       Of that skilled spear, the wonder of the world —

       Went sliding down so easily, and fell,

       That when he found the grass within his hands

       He laughed; the laughter jarred upon Lynette:

       Harshly she asked him, ‘Shamed and overthrown,

       And tumbled back into the kitchen-knave,

       Why laugh ye? that ye blew your boast in vain?’

       ‘Nay, noble damsel, but that I, the son

       Of old King Lot and good Queen Bellicent,

       And victor of the bridges and the ford,

       And knight of Arthur, here lie thrown by whom

       I know not, all through mere unhappiness —

       Device and sorcery and unhappiness —

       Out, sword; we are thrown!’ And Lancelot answered, ‘Prince,

       O Gareth — through the mere unhappiness

       Of one who came to help thee, not to harm,

       Lancelot, and all as glad to find thee whole,

       As on the day when Arthur knighted him.’

      Then Gareth, ‘Thou — Lancelot! — thine the hand

       That threw me? An some chance to mar the boast

       Thy brethren of thee make — which could not chance —

       Had sent thee down before a lesser spear,

       Shamed had I been, and sad — O Lancelot — thou!’

      Whereat the maiden, petulant, ‘Lancelot,

       Why came ye not, when called? and wherefore now

       Come ye, not called? I gloried in my knave,

       Who being still rebuked, would answer still

       Courteous as any knight — but now, if knight,

       The marvel dies, and leaves me fooled and tricked,

       And only wondering wherefore played upon:

       And doubtful whether I and mine be scorned.

       Where should be truth if not in Arthur’s hall,

       In Arthur’s presence? Knight, knave, prince and fool,

       I hate thee and for ever.’

      And Lancelot said,

       ‘Blessed be thou, Sir Gareth! knight art thou

       To the King’s best wish. O damsel, be you wise

       To call him shamed, who is but overthrown?

       Thrown have I been, nor once, but many a time.

       Victor from vanquished issues at the last,

       And overthrower from being overthrown.

       With sword we have not striven; and thy good horse

       And thou are weary; yet not less I felt

       Thy manhood through that wearied lance of thine.

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

       And thou hast wreaked his justice on his foes,

       And when reviled, hast answered 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 fooled

       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 him

       As any mother? Ay, but such a one

       As all day long hath rated at her child,

       And vext his day, but blesses him asleep —

       Good lord, how sweetly smells the honeysuckle

       In the hushed night, as if the world were one

       Of utter peace, and love, and gentleness!

       O Lancelot, Lancelot’— and she clapt her hands —

       ‘Full merry am I to find my goodly knave

       Is knight and noble. See now, sworn have I,

       Else yon black felon had not let me pass,

       To bring thee back to do the battle with him.

       Thus an thou goest, he will fight thee first;

       Who doubts thee victor? so will my knight-knave

       Miss the full flower of this accomplishment.’

      Said Lancelot, ‘Peradventure he, you name,

       May know my shield. Let Gareth, an he will,

       Change his for mine, and take my charger, fresh,

       Not to be spurred, loving the battle as well

       As he that rides him.’ ‘Lancelot-like,’ she said,

       ‘Courteous in this, Lord Lancelot, as in all.’

      And Gareth, wakening, fiercely clutched the shield;

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

       Are rotten sticks! ye 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 — through 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 though summer-wan,

       In counter motion to