A mocking fire: 'what other fire than he,
Whereby the blood beats, and the blossom blows,
And the sea rolls, and all the world is warm'd?'
And when his answer chafed them, the rough crowd,
Hearing he had a difference with their priests,
Seized him, and bound and plunged him into a cell
Of great piled stones; and lying bounden there

In darkness thro' innumerable hours

He heard the hollow-ringing heavens sweep
Over him, till by miracle - what else?
Heavy as it was, a great stone slipt and fell,
Such as no wind could move: and thro' the gap
Glimmer'd the streaming scud: then came a night
Still as the day was loud; and thro' the gap
The seven clear stars of Arthur's Table Round, -
For, brother, so one night, because they roll
Thro' such a round in heaven, we named the stars,
Rejoicing in ourselves and in our king, -

And these like bright eyes of familiar friends

In on him shone, And then to me, to me,'

Said good Sir Bors, 'beyond all hopes of mine,
Who scarce had pray'd or ask'd it for myself, -
Across the seven clear stars, - O grace to me!
In color like the fingers of a hand
Before a burning taper, the sweet Grail
Glided and past, and close upon it peal'd
A sharp quick thunder': afterwards a maid
Who kept our holy faith among her kin
In secret, entering, loosed and let him go."

To whom the monk : "And I remember now That pelican on the casque: Sir Bors it was Who spake so low and sadly at our board; And mighty reverent at our grace was he: A square-set man and honest; and his eyes, An out-door sign of all the warmth within, Smiled with his lips, - a smile beneath a cloud, But Heaven had meant it for a sunny one: Ay, ay, Sir Bors, who else? but when ye reach'd The city, found ye all your knights return'd,

Or was there sooth in Arthur's prophecy?

Tell me, and what said each, and what the king."

Then answer'd Percivale, "And that can I, Brother, and truly; since the living words Of so great men as Lancelot and our king Pass not from door to door and out again, But sit within the house. O, when we reach'd The city, our horses stumbling as they trode On heaps of ruin, hornless unicorns, Crack'd basilisks, and splinter'd cockatrices, And shatter'd talbots, which had left the stones Raw, that they fell from, brought us to the hall.

"And there sat Arthur on the dais-throne, And those that had gone out upon the Quest, Wasted and worn, and but a tithe of them, And those that had not, stood before the king. Who, when he saw me, rose, and bade me hail, Saying, 'A welfare in thine eye reproves

On hill, or plain, at sea, or flooding ford.

So fierce a gale made havoc here of late

Among the strange devices of our kings;

Yea, shook this newer, stronger hall of ours,

And from the statue Merlin moulded for us
Half wrench'd a golden wing; but now - the quest,

This vision

---

hast thou seen the holy cup, That Joseph brought of old to Glastonbury?'

"So when I told him all thyself hast heard,

Ambrosius, and my fresh but fixt resolve
To pass away into the quiet life,
He answer'd not, but, sharply turning, ask'd
Of Gawain, 'Gawain, was this quest for thee?

""Nay, lord,' said Gawain, 'not for such as I.

Therefore I communed with a saintly man,
Who made me sure the quest was not for me.
For I was much awearied of the quest.

But found a silk pavilion in a field,

r

And merry maidens in it; and then this gale

Tore my pavilion from the tenting-pin,

And blew my merry maidens all about

With all discomfort; yea, and but for this

My twelvemonth and a day were pleasant to me.'

"He ceased; and Arthur turn'd to whom at first He saw not, for Sir Bors, on entering, push'd Athwart the throng to Lancelot, caught his hand, Held it, and there, half hidden by him, stood, Until the king espied him, saying to him,

'Hail, Bors! if ever loyal man and true

Could see it, thou hast seen the Grail,' and Bors,

'Ask me not, for I may not speak of it,

I saw it': and the tears were in his eyes.

"Then there remain'd but Lancelot, for the rest

Spake but of sundry perils in the storm,

Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy Writ,