第63章 Pelleas and Ettarre(3)

So Gawain,looking at the villainy done,Forbore,but in his heat and eagerness Trembled and quivered,as the dog,withheld A moment from the vermin that he sees Before him,shivers,ere he springs and kills.

And Pelleas overthrew them,one to three;

And they rose up,and bound,and brought him in.

Then first her anger,leaving Pelleas,burned Full on her knights in many an evil name Of craven,weakling,and thrice-beaten hound:

'Yet,take him,ye that scarce are fit to touch,Far less to bind,your victor,and thrust him out,And let who will release him from his bonds.

And if he comes again'--there she brake short;And Pelleas answered,'Lady,for indeed I loved you and I deemed you beautiful,I cannot brook to see your beauty marred Through evil spite:and if ye love me not,I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn:

I had liefer ye were worthy of my love,Than to be loved again of you--farewell;And though ye kill my hope,not yet my love,Vex not yourself:ye will not see me more.'

While thus he spake,she gazed upon the man Of princely bearing,though in bonds,and thought,'Why have I pushed him from me?this man loves,If love there be:yet him I loved not.Why?

I deemed him fool?yea,so?or that in him A something--was it nobler than myself?

Seemed my reproach?He is not of my kind.

He could not love me,did he know me well.

Nay,let him go--and quickly.'And her knights Laughed not,but thrust him bounden out of door.

Forth sprang Gawain,and loosed him from his bonds,And flung them o'er the walls;and afterward,Shaking his hands,as from a lazar's rag,'Faith of my body,'he said,'and art thou not--Yea thou art he,whom late our Arthur made Knight of his table;yea and he that won The circlet?wherefore hast thou so defamed Thy brotherhood in me and all the rest,As let these caitiffs on thee work their will?'

And Pelleas answered,'O,their wills are hers For whom I won the circlet;and mine,hers,Thus to be bounden,so to see her face,Marred though it be with spite and mockery now,Other than when I found her in the woods;And though she hath me bounden but in spite,And all to flout me,when they bring me in,Let me be bounden,I shall see her face;Else must I die through mine unhappiness.'

And Gawain answered kindly though in scorn,'Why,let my lady bind me if she will,And let my lady beat me if she will:

But an she send her delegate to thrall These fighting hands of mine--Christ kill me then But I will slice him handless by the wrist,And let my lady sear the stump for him,Howl as he may.But hold me for your friend:

Come,ye know nothing:here I pledge my troth,Yea,by the honour of the Table Round,I will be leal to thee and work thy work,And tame thy jailing princess to thine hand.

Lend me thine horse and arms,and I will say That I have slain thee.She will let me in To hear the manner of thy fight and fall;Then,when I come within her counsels,then From prime to vespers will I chant thy praise As prowest knight and truest lover,more Than any have sung thee living,till she long To have thee back in lusty life again,Not to be bound,save by white bonds and warm,Dearer than freedom.Wherefore now thy horse And armour:let me go:be comforted:

Give me three days to melt her fancy,and hope The third night hence will bring thee news of gold.'

Then Pelleas lent his horse and all his arms,Saving the goodly sword,his prize,and took Gawain's,and said,'Betray me not,but help--Art thou not he whom men call light-of-love?'

'Ay,'said Gawain,'for women be so light.'

Then bounded forward to the castle walls,And raised a bugle hanging from his neck,And winded it,and that so musically That all the old echoes hidden in the wall Rang out like hollow woods at hunting-tide.

Up ran a score of damsels to the tower;

'Avaunt,'they cried,'our lady loves thee not.'

But Gawain lifting up his vizor said,'Gawain am I,Gawain of Arthur's court,And I have slain this Pelleas whom ye hate:

Behold his horse and armour.Open gates,And I will make you merry.'

And down they ran,Her damsels,crying to their lady,'Lo!

Pelleas is dead--he told us--he that hath His horse and armour:will ye let him in?

He slew him!Gawain,Gawain of the court,Sir Gawain--there he waits below the wall,Blowing his bugle as who should say him nay.'

And so,leave given,straight on through open door Rode Gawain,whom she greeted courteously.

'Dead,is it so?'she asked.'Ay,ay,'said he,'And oft in dying cried upon your name.'

'Pity on him,'she answered,'a good knight,But never let me bide one hour at peace.'

'Ay,'thought Gawain,'and you be fair enow:

But I to your dead man have given my troth,That whom ye loathe,him will I make you love.'

So those three days,aimless about the land,Lost in a doubt,Pelleas wandering Waited,until the third night brought a moon With promise of large light on woods and ways.

Hot was the night and silent;but a sound Of Gawain ever coming,and this lay--Which Pelleas had heard sung before the Queen,And seen her sadden listening--vext his heart,And marred his rest--'A worm within the rose.'

'A rose,but one,none other rose had I,A rose,one rose,and this was wondrous fair,One rose,a rose that gladdened earth and sky,One rose,my rose,that sweetened all mine air--I cared not for the thorns;the thorns were there.

'One rose,a rose to gather by and by,One rose,a rose,to gather and to wear,No rose but one--what other rose had I?

One rose,my rose;a rose that will not die,--He dies who loves it,--if the worm be there.'

This tender rhyme,and evermore the doubt,'Why lingers Gawain with his golden news?'