<h2><SPAN name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE" /> PREFACE</h2>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span>Arms and the man I sing,—not as of old<br/></span>
<span>The Mantuan bard his mighty verse unrolled,<br/></span>
<span>But in such humbler strains as may beseem<br/></span>
<span>Light changes rung on a fantastic theme.<br/></span>
<span>My tale is ancient, but the sense is new,—<br/></span>
<span>Replete with monstrous fictions, yet half true;—<br/></span>
<span>And, if you'll follow till the story's done,<br/></span>
<span>I promise much instruction, and some fun.<br/></span></div>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><SPAN name="CANTO_I" id="CANTO_I" />CANTO I</h2>
<h2>THE GREEN KNIGHT</h2>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span>King Arthur and his court were blithe and gay<br/></span>
<span>In high-towered Camelot, on Christmas day,<br/></span>
<span>For all the Table Round were back again,<br/></span>
<span>At peace with God and with their fellow-men.<br/></span>
<span>Their shields hung idly on the pictured wall;<br/></span>
<span>Their blood-stained banners decked the festal hall<br/></span>
<span>Light footsteps, rustling on the rush-strewn floors,<br/></span>
<span>And laughter, rippling down long corridors,<br/></span>
<span>Attested minds at ease and hearts at play,—<br/></span>
<span>Rude Mars unharnessed for love's holiday.<br/></span>
<span>In the great hall the Christmas feast was done.<br/></span>
<span>The level sunbeams from the setting sun<br/></span>
<span>Stretched through the mullioned casements to the wall,<br/></span>
<span>And wove fantastic shadows over all.<br/></span>
<span>The revelry was hushed. In tranquil ease<br/></span>
<span>The warriors grouped themselves by twos and threes<br/></span>
<span>About the dames and damsels of the court,<br/></span>
<span>And chattered careless words of small import;<br/></span>
<span>But in an alcove, unobserved, apart,<br/></span>
<span>Young Gawayne sat with Lady Elfinhart,<br/></span>
<span>In Arthur's court no goodlier knight than he<br/></span>
<span>Wore shirt of mail, or Cupid's panoply;<br/></span>
<span>And Elfinhart, to Gawayne's eager eyes.<br/></span>
<span>Of all heaven's treasures seemed the goodliest prize.<br/></span>
<span>Now daylight faded, and the twilight gloom<br/></span>
<span>Deepened the stillness in the vaulted room,<br/></span>
<span>Save where upon the hearth a fitful glow<br/></span>
<span>Blushed from the embers as the fire burned low.<br/></span>
<span>There is a certain subtle twilight mood,<br/></span>
<span>When two hearts meet in a dim solitude,<br/></span>
<span>That thrills the soul e'en to the finger-tips,<br/></span>
<span>And brings the heart's dear secrets to the lips.<br/></span>
<span>In Gawayne's corner, as the shades grew thicker,<br/></span>
<span>Four eyes waxed brighter, and two pulses quicker;<br/></span>
<span>Ten minutes more of quiet talk unbroken,<br/></span>
<span>And heaven alone can tell what might be spoken!<br/></span>
<span>But it was not to be, for fates unequal<br/></span>
<span>Compelled—but this anticipates the sequel.<br/></span>
<span>Just in the nick of time, King Arthur rose<br/></span>
<span>From his sedate post-prandial repose,<br/></span>
<span>And called for lights. Along the shadowy aisles<br/></span>
<span>His pages' footsteps pattered o'er the tiles,<br/></span>
<span>Speeding to do his errand, and at once<br/></span>
<span>Four tapers flickered from each silver sconce.<br/></span>
<span>The scene was changed, the dreamer's dream dispelled,<br/></span>
<span>And what might else have been his fate withheld<br/></span>
<span>From Gawayne's grasp. So may one touch of chance<br/></span>
<span>Shatter the fragile fabric of romance,<br/></span>
<span>And all the heart's desire,—the joy, the trouble,—<br/></span>
<span>Flash to oblivion with the bursting bubble!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>But Arthur, on his kingly dais-seat,<br/></span>
<span>Felt nothing of the passion and the heat<br/></span>
<span>That fire young blood. He raised his warlike head<br/></span>
<span>And glancing moodily around him, said:<br/></span>
<span>"So have ye feasted well, my knights, this day,<br/></span>
<span>And filled your hearts with revel and with play.<br/></span>
<span>But to my mind that day is basely spent<br/></span>
<span>Which passes by without accomplishment<br/></span>
<span>Of some bright deed of arms or chivalry.<br/></span>
<span>We rust in indolence. As well not be,<br/></span>
<span>As be the minions of an idle court<br/></span>
<span>Where all is gallantry and girlish sport!<br/></span>
<span>Some bold adventure let our thoughts devise,<br/></span>
<span>To stir our courage and to cheer our eyes."<br/></span>
<span>And lo! while yet he spoke, from far away<br/></span>
<span>In the thick shroud of the departed day,<br/></span>
<span>Upon the frosty air of evening borne,<br/></span>
<span>Came the faint challenge of a fairy horn!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>King Arthur started up in mild surprise,<br/></span>
<span>While knights and dames looked round with questioning eyes,<br/></span>
<span>And each to other spoke some hurried word,<br/></span>
<span>As, "Did you hear it?"—"What was that I heard?"<br/></span>
<span>But well they knew; for you must understand<br/></span>
<span>That Camelot lay close to Fairyland,<br/></span>
<span>And the wild blast of fairy horns, once known,<br/></span>
<span>Is straightway recognized as soon as blown,<br/></span>
<span>Being a sound unique, unearthly, shrill,—<br/></span>
<span>Between a screech-owl and a whip-poor-will.<br/></span>
<span>The mischief is, that no one e'er can tell<br/></span>
<span>Whether such heralding bodes ill or well!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>The ladies of the palace looked faint fear,<br/></span>
<span>Dreading some perilous adventure near;<br/></span>
<span>For peril can the bravest spirits move,<br/></span>
<span>When threatening not ourselves, but those we love;<br/></span>
<span>But Lady Elfinhart clapped hands in glee,—<br/></span>
<span>In sooth, no sentimentalist seemed she,—<br/></span>
<span>And cried: "Now, brave Sir Gawayne,—O what fun!<br/></span>
<span>Succor us, save us, else we are undone;<br/></span>
<span>Show us the prowess of your arm this night;<br/></span>
<span>I never saw a tilt by candle-light!"<br/></span>
<span>Gaily she spoke, and seemed all unconcerned;<br/></span>
<span>And yet a curious watcher might have learned<br/></span>
<span>From a slight quaver in her laughter free<br/></span>
<span>To doubt the frankness of her flippancy.<br/></span>
<span>Gawayne, bewildered, looked the other way,<br/></span>
<span>And wondered what she meant; for in that day<br/></span>
<span>The ready wit of man was under muzzle,<br/></span>
<span>And woman's heart was still an unsolved puzzle;<br/></span>
<span>And Gawayne, though in valor next to none,<br/></span>
<span>Wished that <i>her</i> heart had been a tenderer one.<br/></span>
<span>His sword was out for any foe on earth,<br/></span>
<span>And yet to face death for a lady's mirth<br/></span>
<span>Seemed scarce worth while. What honor bade, he'ld do,<br/></span>
<span>But would have liked to see a tear or two.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>While thus he pondered, came a sudden burst<br/></span>
<span>Of high-pitched fairy horn-calls, like the first,<br/></span>
<span>But nearer, clearer, deadlier than before,<br/></span>
<span>Blown seemingly from just outside the door.<br/></span>
<span>The casements shook, the taper lights all trembled;<br/></span>
<span>The bravest knight's dismay was ill-dissembled;<br/></span>
<span>And as all sprang with one accord to win<br/></span>
<span>Their swords and shields, stern combat to begin,<br/></span>
<span>The great doors shot their bolts, and opened slowly in.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>And now my laboring muse is hard beset,<br/></span>
<span>For something followed such as never yet<br/></span>
<span>Was writ or sung, by human voice or hand,<br/></span>
<span>Save those that tell old tales from Fairyland.<br/></span>
<span>"Miracles <i>do</i> not happen:"—'t is plain sense,<br/></span>
<span>If you italicize the present tense;<br/></span>
<span>But in those days, as rare old Chaucer tells,<br/></span>
<span>All Britain was fulfilled of miracles.<br/></span>
<span>So, as I said, the great doors opened wide.<br/></span>
<span>In rushed a blast of winter from outside,<br/></span>
<span>And with it, galloping on the empty air,<br/></span>
<span>A great green giant on a great green mare<br/></span>
<span>Plunged like a tempest-cleaving thunderbolt,<br/></span>
<span>And struck four-footed, with an earthquake's jolt,<br/></span>
<span>Plump on the hearthstone. There the uncouth wight<br/></span>
<span>Sat greenly laughing at the strange affright<br/></span>
<span>That paled all cheeks and opened wide all eyes;<br/></span>
<span>Till after the first shock of quick surprise<br/></span>
<span>The people circled round him, still in awe,<br/></span>
<span>And circling stared; and this is what they saw:<br/></span>
<span>Cassock and hood and hose, of plushy sheen<br/></span>
<span>Like close-cut grass upon a bowling-green,<br/></span>
<span>Covered his stature, from his verdant toes<br/></span>
<span>To the green brows that topped his emerald nose.<br/></span>
<span>His beard was glossy, like unripened corn;<br/></span>
<span>His eyes shot sparklets like the polar morn.<br/></span>
<span>But like in hue unto that deep-sea green<br/></span>
<span>Wherewith must shine those gems of ray serene<br/></span>
<span>The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear.<br/></span>
<span>Green was his raiment, green his monstrous mare.<br/></span>
<span>He rode unarmed, uncorsleted, unshielded,<br/></span>
<span>Except that in his huge right hand he wielded<br/></span>
<span>A frightful battle-axe, with blade as green<br/></span>
<span>As coppery rust;—but the long edge shone keen.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Such was the stranger, and he turned his head<br/></span>
<span>From one side to the other, and then said,<br/></span>
<span>With gentle voice, most like a summer breeze<br/></span>
<span>That rustles through the leaves of the green trees:<br/></span>
<span>"So this is Arthur's court! My noble lord,<br/></span>
<span>You said just now you felt a trifle bored,<br/></span>
<span>And wished, instead of dancing, feasting, flirting,<br/></span>
<span>Your gallant warriors might be exerting<br/></span>
<span>Their puissance upon some worthier thing.<br/></span>
<span>The wish, my lord, was worthy of a king!<br/></span>
<span>It pleased me; here I am; and I intend<br/></span>
<span>To serve your fancy as a faithful friend.<br/></span>
<span>I bring adventure,—no hard, tedious quest,<br/></span>
<span>But merely what I call a merry jest.<br/></span>
<span>Let some good knight, the doughtiest of you all,<br/></span>
<span>Swing this my battle-axe, and let it fall<br/></span>
<span>On whatsoever part of me he will;<br/></span>
<span>I will abide the blow, and hold me still;<br/></span>
<span>But let him, just a twelvemonth from this day,<br/></span>
<span>Come to me, if by any means he may,<br/></span>
<span>And let me, if I live, pay back my best,<br/></span>
<span>As he pays me. What think you of the jest?"<br/></span>
<span>He said; and made a courteous bow,—the while<br/></span>
<span>Lighting his features with a bright green smile;<br/></span>
<span>As when June breezes, after rain-clouds pass,<br/></span>
<span>Ripple in sunlight o'er the unmown grass.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>The jest seemed fair indeed; but none the less<br/></span>
<span>No knight showed any undue forwardness<br/></span>
<span>To seize the offer. Some with laughter free<br/></span>
<span>Daffed it aside; while others carelessly<br/></span>
<span>Strolled to the farthest corners of the hall<br/></span>
<span>As if they had not heard his words at all,<br/></span>
<span>And whistled with an air of idle ease,<br/></span>
<span>Or studied figures in the tapestries.<br/></span>
<span>Not so Sir Gawayne. Vexed in mind he stood<br/></span>
<span>With downcast eyes, and knew not what he would.<br/></span>
<span>Trained in the school of chivalry to prize<br/></span>
<span>His honor as the light of his dear eyes,<br/></span>
<span>He held his life, his fortunes, everything,<br/></span>
<span>In sacred trust for knighthood and his king,<br/></span>
<span>And in the battle-field or tilting-yard<br/></span>
<span>He met his foe full-fronted, and struck hard.<br/></span>
<span>But now it seemed a foolish thing to throw<br/></span>
<span>One's whole life to the fortune of a blow.<br/></span>
<span>True valor breathes not in the braggart vaunt;<br/></span>
<span>True honor takes no shame from idle taunt;<br/></span>
<span>So let this wizard, if he wants to, scoff;<br/></span>
<span>Why should our hero have his head cut off?<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>While thus Sir Gawayne, wrapped in thought intense,<br/></span>
<span>Debated honor versus common sense,<br/></span>
<span>The stranger knight was casting his green glance<br/></span>
<span>Around the circling throng,—until by chance<br/></span>
<span>He met the eyes of Lady Elfinhart,<br/></span>
<span>And—did she flush?—and did the Green Knight start?<br/></span>
<span>Surely a quiver twinkled in each eye;<br/></span>
<span>But what of that? It need not signify:<br/></span>
<span>Beneath his glance a brave man well might flush;<br/></span>
<span>What wonder then that a fair maid should blush?<br/></span>
<span>And as for him, no man that ever loved<br/></span>
<span>Could look upon her loveliness unmoved.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Could I but picture her—ah, you would deem<br/></span>
<span>My tale the figment of a poet's dream;<br/></span>
<span>And if you saw her, (could such bliss be given),<br/></span>
<span>You'ld think <i>yourself</i> in dreamland—or in heaven.<br/></span>
<span>Not the red rapture of new-wakened roses,<br/></span>
<span>When morning dew their soul of love uncloses,<br/></span>
<span>(Roses that must be wooed,—nor may be won<br/></span>
<span>Save by the prince of lovers, the warm sun),<br/></span>
<span>Not the fair lily, nor the violet shy,<br/></span>
<span>Whose heart's love lurks deep in her still blue eye,<br/></span>
<span>Nor any flower, the loveliest and the best,<br/></span>
<span>Can image to you half the charm compressed<br/></span>
<span>In those dear eyes, those lips,—nay, every part<br/></span>
<span>That made that sum of witcheries—Elfinhart.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Her face was a dim dream of shadowy light,<br/></span>
<span>Like misty moonbeams on the fields of night,<br/></span>
<span>And in her voice sweet nature's sweetest tunes<br/></span>
<span>Sang the glad song of twenty cloudless Junes.<br/></span>
<span>Her raiment,—nay; go, reader, if you please,<br/></span>
<span>To some sage Treatise on Antiquities,<br/></span>
<span>Whence writers of historical romances<br/></span>
<span>Cull old embroideries for their new-spun fancies;<br/></span>
<span>I care not for the trivial, nor the fleeting.<br/></span>
<span>Beneath her dress a woman's heart was beating<br/></span>
<span>The rhythm of love's eternal eloquence,<br/></span>
<span>And I confess to you, in confidence,<br/></span>
<span>Though flowers have grown a thousand years above her,<br/></span>
<span>Unseen, unknown, with all my soul I love her.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>From these digressions upon love and glory,<br/></span>
<span>'Tis time we were returning to our story.<br/></span>
<span>I only meant, in a few words, to tell you<br/></span>
<span>(For fear my heroine's conduct should repel you)<br/></span>
<span>That if she jests, for instance, out of season,<br/></span>
<span>Perhaps there is a good substantial reason.<br/></span>
<span>Sir Gawayne, had he seen the stranger wink<br/></span>
<span>And seen the lady blushing, you may think<br/></span>
<span>Might have been spared a most unhappy lot.<br/></span>
<span>Perhaps you're right;—but peradventure not.<br/></span>
<span>I give you but a hint, for half the art<br/></span>
<span>Of narrative is holding back a part,<br/></span>
<span>And if without reserve I gave my best<br/></span>
<span>In the first canto, who would read the rest?<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>But now Sir Gawayne, with a troubled eye,<br/></span>
<span>Looked up, and saw his lady standing by.<br/></span>
<span>Quoth he: "And if this conjurer unblest<br/></span>
<span>Win no acceptance of his bitter jest,<br/></span>
<span>How then in after days shall Arthur's court<br/></span>
<span>Confront the calumny and foul report<br/></span>
<span>Of idle tongues?" The wrath in Gawayne's eyes<br/></span>
<span>Hashed for an instant; then in humbler wise<br/></span>
<span>He spoke on: "Yet God grant I be not blind<br/></span>
<span>Where honor lights the way; for to my mind<br/></span>
<span>True honor bids us shun the devil's den,<br/></span>
<span>To fight God's battles in the world of men.<br/></span>
<span>Who takes this challenge up, I doubt will rue it."<br/></span>
<span>Quoth Elfinhart: "I'ld like to see you do it!"<br/></span>
<span>She laughed a gay laugh, but by hard constraint:<br/></span>
<span>Then turned and hid her face, all pale and faint,<br/></span>
<span>As one might be who stabs and turns the knife<br/></span>
<span>In the warm heart of one more dear than life.<br/></span>
<span>She turned and Gawayne saw not; but he heard,<br/></span>
<span>And felt his heart-strings tighten at her word.<br/></span>
<span>"Nay, lady, if you wish it I will try;<br/></span>
<span>Be your least wish my will, although I die!<br/></span>
<span>Yet one thing, if I may, I fain would ask,<br/></span>
<span>Before I make the venture;—if this task<br/></span>
<span>Prove fateful as it threatens,—do you care?"<br/></span>
<span>"Perhaps," said Elfinhart, "you do not dare!"<br/></span>
<span>Lightly she laughed, and scoffing tossed her head,<br/></span>
<span>Yet spoke as one who knew not what she said,<br/></span>
<span>With random words, and with quick-taken breath;<br/></span>
<span>Then turned again, ere that same look of death<br/></span>
<span>Should steal upon her and betray her heart<br/></span>
<span>Despite all stratagems of woman's art.<br/></span>
<span>And Gawayne heard but saw not; and the night<br/></span>
<span>Descended on him, and his face grew white<br/></span>
<span>With grief and passion. When all else is lost,<br/></span>
<span>The brave man gives life too, nor counts the cost.<br/></span>
<span>"I dreamt," he murmured to himself, "and dreaming<br/></span>
<span>I took for truth what was but sweetest seeming.<br/></span>
<span>My waking eyes find naught in life to keep;<br/></span>
<span>I take the venture, and so back—to sleep."<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>By this, the stranger had at last become<br/></span>
<span>Tired of long waiting, and of sitting dumb<br/></span>
<span>Upon his charger; so with greenest leer<br/></span>
<span>He vented his impatience in a sneer.<br/></span>
<span>"Is this," he said, "the glorious Table Round,<br/></span>
<span>And is its glory naught but empty sound?<br/></span>
<span>Braggarts! I put your bluster to the test,<br/></span>
<span>And find you quail before a merry jest!"<br/></span>
<span>Then the great king himself stood up in ire,<br/></span>
<span>With clenched hand raised, and eyes that gleamed dark fire,<br/></span>
<span>And fronting the Green Knight he cried: "Forbear!<br/></span>
<span>For by my sword Excalibur I swear,<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>"Whate'er thou be, thou shalt not carry hence<br/></span>
<span>Unscathed the memory of thine insolence.<br/></span>
<span>Such jests as thine please not; yet even so<br/></span>
<span>I take thine axe; kneel thou, and take my blow."<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Across the Green Knight's features there was seen<br/></span>
<span>To pass a fleeting shade of deeper green,<br/></span>
<span>Whether of disappointment or resentment<br/></span>
<span>None knew; but straight a smile of bright contentment<br/></span>
<span>Followed, as through the throng of dazed beholders<br/></span>
<span>He saw Sir Gawayne thrust his sturdy shoulders.<br/></span>
<span>The stranger winked at Elfinhart once more,<br/></span>
<span>Well pleased, and Gawayne knelt down on the floor.<br/></span>
<span>"A boon," he cried, "a boon, my lord and king!<br/></span>
<span>If ever yet in any little thing<br/></span>
<span>These hands have served thee, hear my last request:<br/></span>
<span>Let <i>me</i> adventure this mad monster's jest!"<br/></span>
<span>King Arthur shook his head in dumb denial,<br/></span>
<span>Loth to withdraw his own hand from the trial,<br/></span>
<span>And leave the vengeance that himself had vowed;<br/></span>
<span>But all the people called to him aloud,<br/></span>
<span>"Sir Gawayne! let Sir Gawayne strike the blow!"<br/></span>
<span>And Guinevere, the queen, besought him low<br/></span>
<span>To leave this venture to the lesser man.<br/></span>
<span>He yielded, and the merry jest began.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>The visitor, dismounting, made a bow<br/></span>
<span>To Arthur, then to all the court. "And now,"<br/></span>
<span>Said he to Gawayne, "wheresoe'er you choose<br/></span>
<span>To strike your blow, strike on; I'll not refuse;<br/></span>
<span>Head, shoulders, chest, or waist, I little reck;<br/></span>
<span>Where shall it be?" Quoth Gawayne, "In the neck!"<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>So Gawayne took the axe. The stranger knelt<br/></span>
<span>Before him on the hearth and loosed his belt,<br/></span>
<span>And threw back his green cassock and his hood,<br/></span>
<span>To give his foe the fairest mark he could.<br/></span>
<span>Then thus to Gawayne: "Ready! But remember<br/></span>
<span>To come the twenty-fifth of next December,<br/></span>
<span>And take from me the self-same stroke again!"<br/></span>
<span>"And where," asked Gawayne, "may I find you then?"<br/></span>
<span>"We'll speak of that, please, when you've struck your blow;<br/></span>
<span>For if I can't speak, then you need not go!"<br/></span>
<span>He chuckled softly to himself; then turned<br/></span>
<span>And waited for the blow, all unconcerned.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Not so the knights and ladies of the court;<br/></span>
<span>They pushed and craned their necks to see the sport;<br/></span>
<span>Not from the lust of blood, for few expected<br/></span>
<span>To see blood shed, or the Green Knight dissected,<br/></span>
<span>But knowing that some marvel was in store<br/></span>
<span>Unparalleled in all Arthurian lore,<br/></span>
<span>And fairly filled with wide-eyed wonderment.<br/></span>
<span>But Lady Elfinhart stayed not. She went<br/></span>
<span>Into the alcove where we saw her first<br/></span>
<span>And laid her sweet face in her arms, and burst<br/></span>
<span>Into—but none could tell, unless by peeping,<br/></span>
<span>Whether she shook with laughter or with weeping.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>And Gawayne rubbed his arms, his chest he beat,<br/></span>
<span>Then grasped the battle-axe and braced his feet,<br/></span>
<span>And swung the ponderous weapon high in air,<br/></span>
<span>And brought it down like lightning, fair and square<br/></span>
<span>Upon the stranger's neck. The axe flashed through,<br/></span>
<span>Cutting the Green Knight cleanly right in two,<br/></span>
<span>And split the hard stone floor like kindling wood.<br/></span>
<span>The head dropped off; out gushed the thick, hot blood<br/></span>
<span>Like—I can't find the simile I want,<br/></span>
<span>But let us say a flood of <i>crême de menthe</i>!<br/></span>
<span>And then the warriors standing round about<br/></span>
<span>Sent up from fifty throats a mighty shout,<br/></span>
<span>As when o'er blood-sprent fields the long cheers roll<br/></span>
<span>Cacophonous, for him who kicks a goal.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>"O Gawayne! Well done, Gawayne!" they all cried;<br/></span>
<span>But straight the tumult and the shouting died,<br/></span>
<span>And deadly pallor overspread each face,<br/></span>
<span>For the knight's body stood up in its place<br/></span>
<span>And stepping nimbly forward seized the head<br/></span>
<span>That lay still on the hearth-stone, seeming dead;<br/></span>
<span>Then vaulted lightly, with a careless air,<br/></span>
<span>Back to the saddle of his grass-green mare.<br/></span>
<span>He held the head up, and behold! it spoke.<br/></span>
<span>"My best congratulations on that stroke,<br/></span>
<span>Sir Gawayne; it was delicately done!<br/></span>
<span>Our merry little jest is well begun,<br/></span>
<span>But look you fail me not this day next year!<br/></span>
<span>At the Green Chapel by the Murmuring Mere<br/></span>
<span>I will await you when the sun sinks low,<br/></span>
<span>And pay you back full measure, blow for blow!"<br/></span>
<span>He wheeled about, the doors flew wide once more,<br/></span>
<span>The mare's hoofs struck green sparkles from the floor,<br/></span>
<span>And with a whirring flash of emerald light<br/></span>
<span>Both horse and rider vanished in the night.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Then all the lords and ladies rubbed their eyes<br/></span>
<span>And slowly roused themselves from dumb surprise.<br/></span>
<span>The great hall echoed once more with the clatter<br/></span>
<span>Of laughing men's and frightened women's chatter;<br/></span>
<span>But Gawayne, with the axe in hand, stood still,<br/></span>
<span>Heedless of what was passing, with no will<br/></span>
<span>For life or death, for all that made life dear<br/></span>
<span>Was fled like summer when the leaves fall sere.<br/></span>
<span>And Arthur spoke, misreading Gawayne's thought:<br/></span>
<span>"Heaven send we have not all too dearly bought<br/></span>
<span>Our evening's pastime, Gawayne. You have done<br/></span>
<span>As fits a fearless knight, and nobly won<br/></span>
<span>Our thanks in equal measure with our praise.<br/></span>
<span>Be both remembered in the after days!"<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>So spoke the king, and, to confirm his word,<br/></span>
<span>From far away in the deep night was heard<br/></span>
<span>Once more the fairy horn-call, clear and shrill;<br/></span>
<span>It died upon the wind, and all was still.<br/></span>
<span>The hour was late. King Arthur, rising, said<br/></span>
<span>Good-night to all his court, and went to bed.<br/></span></div>
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