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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 tide,
And rare sea-birds whose winging whirrs
About the cliffs? Now good betide! {96}
God save thee, woeful Palamede!
The questing of the Beast is loud
Within thy ear. By Goddes reed,
thou has won the tilt from all t he crowd!
Within thy proper bowels it sounds
Mighty and musical at need,
As if a thirty couple hounds
Quested within thee, Palamede!
Now, then, he grasps the desperate t ruth
He hath toiled these many years to see,
Hath wasted strength, hath wasted youth -0-
He was the Beast; the Beast was he!
He rises from the cave of death,
Runs to the sea with shining face
To know at last the Bounteous Breath,
To taste the Goodly Gift of Grace.
Ah! Palamede, thou has mistook!
Thou art the butt of all confusion!
Not to be written in my book
Is this most drastic disillusion!
So weak and ill was he, I doubt
if he might hear the royal feast
Of laught er that came rolling out
Afar from that elusive Beast. {97}
Yet, those white lips were snapped, like steel
Upon the ankles of a slave!
That body broken on the wheel
Of time suppressed t he groan it gave!
Not there, not here, my quest! he cried.
Not thus! Not now! do how and when
Matter? I am, and I abide,
Sir Palamede the Saracen! {98}
;;;9,,,
6IR PALAMEDE of great renown
rode through the land upon the quest,
His sword loose and his vizor down,
His buckler braced, 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 t o him. disdain
Curls that 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?
I am the good knight fain to ride
Upon the Questing Beast at need. {99}
Thief of my arms, my crest, my quest,
My name, now meetest thou thy shame.
See, with this whip I lash thee back,
Back to the kennel whence there came
So false a hound. Good knight, in sooth,
Answered Sir Palamede, not I
Presume to asset the idlest trut h;
And here, by t his good ear and eye,
I grant thou art Sir Palamede.
But - try t he first and final test
If thou or I be he. Take heed!
He backed his horse, covered his breast ,
Drove his spurs home, and rode upon
That knight. His lance-head fairly struck
The barred strength of his morion,
And rolled the stranger in the muck.
Now, by God s death! quoth Palamede,
His sword at work, I will not leave
So much of thee as God might feed
His sparrows with. As I believe
The sweet Christ s mercy shall avail,
so will I not have aught for thee;
Since every bone of thee may rail
Against me, crying treachery. {100}
Thou hast lied. I am the chosen knight
To slay the Questing beast for men;
I am the loyal son of light,
Sir Palamede the Saracen!
Thou wast the subtlest fiend t hat yet
hath crossed my path. to say thee nay
I dare not, but my sword is wet
With thy knave s blood, and with thy clay
Fouled! Dost thou think to resurrect?
O sweet Lord Christ that savest men!
From all such fiends do thou protect
Me, Palamede the Saracen! {101}
;;;,;
*REEN and Grecian is the valley,
Shepherd lads and shepherd lasses
Dancing in a ring
Merrily and musically.
How their happiness surpasses
The mere thrill of spring!
Come (they cry), Sir Knight, put by
All t hat weight of shining armour!
Here s a posy, here s a garland, there s a chain of daisies!
Here s a charmer! There s a charmer!
Praise the God that crazes men, the God that raises
All our lives toe ecstasy!
Sir Palamedes was too wise
To mock their gentle wooing;
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