For large her violet eyes look'd, and her bloom

A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens,
And round her limbs, mature in womanhood,
And slender was her hand and small her shape,
And but for those large eyes, the haunts of scorn,
She might have seem'd a toy to trifle with,
And pass and care no more. But while he gazed
The beauty of her flesh abash'd the boy,
As tho' it were the beauty of her soul:
For as the base man, judging of the good,
Puts his own baseness in him by default
Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend
All the young beauty of his own soul to hers,
Believing her; and when she spake to him,
Stammer'd, and could not make her a reply.
For out of the waste islands had he come,
Where saving his own sisters he had known
Scarce any but the women of his isles,

Rough wives, that laugh'd and scream'd against the gulls,

Makers of nets, and living from the sea.

Then with a slow smile turn'd the lady round

And look'd upon her people; and as when

A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn,
The circle widens till it lip the marge,
Spread the slow smile thro' all her company.
Three knights were thereamong; and they too smiled,
Scorning him; for the lady was Ettarre,

And she was a great lady in her land.

Again she said, "O wild and of the woods,
Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech?
Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face,
Lacking a tongue?"

"O damsel," answer'd he,

"I woke from dreams; and coming out of gloom

Was dazzled by the sudden light, and crave

Pardon : but will ye to Caerleon? I

Go likewise: shall I lead you to the King?"

"Lead then," she said; and thro' the woods they went.

And while they rode, the meaning in his eyes,

His tenderness of manner, and chaste awe,
His broken utterances and bashfulness,

Were all a burden to her, and in her heart

She mutter'd, "I have lighted on a fool,

Raw, yet so stale!" But since her mind was bent

On hearing, after trumpet blown, her name

And title, "Queen of Beauty," in the lists

Cried

and beholding him so strong, she thought

That peradventure he will fight for me,
And win the circlet: therefore flatter'd him,
Being so gracious, that he wellnigh deem'd

His wish by hers was echo'd; and her knights

And all her damsels too were gracious to him,

For she was a great lady.

And when they reach'd

Caerleon, ere they past to lodging, she,

Taking his hand, "O the strong hand," she said,

"See! look at mine! but wilt thou fight for me,

And win me this fine circlet, Pelleas,

That I may love thee?"

Then his helpless heart

Leapt, and he cried, "Ay! wilt thou if I win?"
"Ay, that will I," she answer'd, and she laugh'd,
And straitly nipt the hand, and flung it from her ;
Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers,
Till all her ladies laugh'd along with her.

"O happy world," thought Pelleas, "all, meseems,

Are happy; I the happiest of them all."

Nor slept that night for pleasure in his blood,

And green wood-ways, and eyes among the leaves;

Then being on the morrow knighted, sware

To love one only. And as he came away,
The men who met him rounded on their heels

And wonder'd after him, because his face

Shone like the countenance of a priest of old

Against the flame about a sacrifice

Kindled by fire from heaven: so glad was he.

Then Arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights

From the four winds came in: and each one sat,

Tho' served with choice from air, land, stream, and sea,

Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes

His neighbor's make and might: and Pelleas look'd
Noble among the noble, for he dream'd

His lady loved him, and he knew himself
Loved of the King: and him his new-made knight
Worshipt, whose lightest whisper moved him more
Than all the ranged reasons of the world.

Then blush'd and brake the morning of the jousts,

And this was call'd "The Tournament of Youth":

For Arthur, loving his young knight, withheld
His older and his mightier from the lists,