How Sir Lancelot, Sir Galahad, and Sir Percevale, sailed together in a ship.

Where evermore the restless ocean raves
To the calm solemn sky, he sails for long --
Sees but the world of countless, tossing waves,
Hears but the murmur of their ceaseless song.
At last the shallop gains a rocky shore,
And Lancelot is lonely now no more.

For, like an apparition of St. George,
Descended on some lonely wave-worn shrine,
A young knight stood within the rocky gorge.
Anon he hurried down the steep incline,
With open visor, lightly sprang on board,
Kissed Lancelot's hand, and said, "My father and my lord."

"Welcome," he said, "my son, Sir Galahad,
So young in years, so old in fame and glory;
Loved when we met before, e'er Nacian had
Revealed to me thy birth and lineage story.
He told me I should be surpassed by one --
I joy to think it is my gallant son."

So day by day, upon the ocean free,
Sailed the strange bark, unsteered and unattended;
So night by night, upon a lonely sea,
The setting sun in flaming gold descended.
Oh happy days, by peace and honour blest,
Whether in calm and sunshine, bright they rest.
Or the fierce storm-wind drives the magic boat
Far over misty seas, uncrossed, unknown;
Or near dark-caverned island rocks they float,
Where dragons grim with scaly glitter shone,
That fought with them upon the desert shore:
And ever son and father loved each other more.

Sir Galahad was wont to sing alone,
Ever as came the church's office time;
And solemn as the pealing organ tone,
The wide sea rolled a mighty under-chime;
"Beware, my knightly son," Sir Lancelot said,
"See thou art not a priestly hermit made."

"Alas!" said Galahad, "thou gentle knight,
My life is passing fast, so let me sing.
Methinks faint music echoes from the light,
Methinks with mine far sweeter voices ring;
Earth, sky, and ocean, all are praises giving,
Can I be silent -- dead among the living?"

"I ever fear to lose thee," Lancelot said,
"Thou seemest to me half beatified;
The powers of ill before thee shrink dismayed;
Sooth spake the hermit Nacian ere he died:
'Thou art assured from all things foul and bad,
There are so many angels round thee, Galahad.'"
"There was an angel once," Sir Galahad cried,
"Now she has passed within the golden gates;
And see, how lovely as the day she died,
Her fair form for the vow's fulfilment waits
Only beneath the Sangrale shrine to rest.
List to the story of the maiden blest."

Dim in the blue sky hung the day-lit moon,
A glassy plain all round the waters lay;
Becalmed, the ship was floating in the noon,
Her white sails kindled in the sea a ray;
The sea-birds on the ripples seemed asleep,
Their shadows shimmered, lengthening from the deep.

But in the clear sea was a wondrous life,
A thousand strange shapes glancing to and fro,
In lazy harmony or maddening strife,
Floating above or sinking deep below.
Strange living flowers, of form and colour rare,
And arrowy fish, and uncouth beasts were there.

"They fight," said Galahad, "they live and die,
None care for them, their low unheeded fate:
So earthly kingdoms, powers, and hopes sweep by,
And others come with the same pride elate;
All in the same wild race to one death hurled,
How like this world, this most unstable world.
"Happy the calm recluse in cloister low,
Hid from her empty joys and giddy train;
Happy the knight, bound by a holy vow
To bear him bravely, conquer, and refrain;
Happy the maiden in whose gentle sprite
Blends warrior fire with calm of anchorite.

"With brave Sir Bors, and Percevale de Gailles,
I rode and wandered all the sweet spring-tide;
By land and sea we sought the Holy Grale,
And this fair ladye, ever by our side,
Sister to Percevale, hight Eleänor,
And daughter of the good King Pellionor."

"We were a band of brothers sworn, and she, our ladye queen;
Ah, never more such sunny days shall dawn for me I ween.
All dangers had we conquered well, till in an evil hour,
One gloomy eve we halted late, beneath a huge grey tower;
Then rattled out a rabble rout, of churl, and squire, and knight --
They charged upon the damoisel, with sudden fierce despite;
And had not we, with swords flung free, made swift and deadly play,
Before our eyes they soon had borne fair Eleanor away.

"They craved a truce and parley soon, told how before us stood
That famous castle called, 'the Castle of the Maidens' Blood.'
Their ladye queen, for years had been, sick of a sore disease;
The prophecies of Merlin wise, said nought could give her ease,
Save bathing in a maiden's blood, a royal maiden pure,
And thus must many gentlewomen, death from them endure.
In wait they lay, to take and slay, all maids of high degree,
They trusted one among them might, a true king's daughter be.
Around us then their army drew, and waited for the day,
As I have seen the stealthy wolves prowl round the traveller's way;
The white fangs gleam on every side, but still the cowardly pack
Slink in the blackest shadows round, and dare not to attack.
But Eleanora glided forth, when darkest was the night,
Nor listening foe, nor sentinel, could hear her footstep light;
Within the dismal gateway of the fortalice she went,
And in the dawn we saw her on the old grey battlement.

"'Approach,' she said, 'my brothers, all is peace and mercy now,
No unassoilzied men shall die, no blood for me shall flow;
I, a good king's virgin daughter, I shall end this weary strife,
I will save the hapless maidens, they shall freely have my life.'
Vain were words and lamentations, grief that rose into despair --
She bled, that lovely maiden, she died before us there,
And, dying, spoke -- 'Around me fair angelic visions glow;
The Sangrale, that I sought so long, I see before me now.
Then lay me in our ship again, I know that I shall sail
On an easy, easy pilgrimage, to the shrine of the Holy Grale, --
There bury me, my brother, for my wanderings there shall cease,
And thou and Galahad by my side, shall early rest in peace.'

"We bore the beauteous corse away, all through the armèd host,
And found our long-lost ship again, hard by the sandy coast;
We laid her there with tender care, and went with heavy thought,
A queen's life and a sullen peace, too dearly were they bought.
We turned to the tower again, and found a chapel there,
Within stood many maidens' tombs, of marble white and fair;
A fearful storm was raging in the darkness all around,
The lightning blazed, the crashing of the thunder shook the ground.
The maidens' blood, the maidens' blood, was crying from the tomb,
Calling aloud, on that castle proud, a speedy terrible doom;
For I saw the levin strike it, while ghastly shrieks arose,
And crashed into the whirling flame the fortress of our foes.

"We issued forth as morning broke, the storm had died away,
But 'neath a cloud of sulph'rous smoke, the tower in ruins lay;
And some among the ashes moved, their faces pale with dread,
And drew from under heavy stones the dying and the dead.
We worked with them till noon was high, then rode into the wood,
And left for aye that dismal place, cursed by the maidens' blood;
But when the shore we reached, the magic ship had sailed away,
And we felt that each must follow thence his solitary way.
With sad embrace, and lingering pace, we parted on the shore,
And after many wanderings I saw that ship once more,
And met thee here, Sir Launcelot, here miss we nothing, save
The gentle champion Percevale, and Bors our kinsman brave."

"Certes," said Launcelot, "most gloriously
The quest was ended by that maiden meek
For she has won the great reality,
But shadowed by the Sangrale that we seek;
And many a life that here seems wrecked and broken,
Is of heroic strife and victory the token."

He ceasèd, for the plash of oars they hear,
See a light bark swift to their vessel glide;
A fisher rowed, an armèd knight stood near,
And lightly clambered up the vessel side;
And Lancelot cried, 'Sir Percevale, my brother;"
Nor can I tell what joy each had of the other.

He was the son of Pellionor the king,
But chose the knightly helm before the crown;
Upon the deck his clashing weapons ring,
As, glad to rest in peace, he casts them down;
Armour, and shield, and weapons all were black,
Since foully murdered fell, his brother Lamorac.

The sunset glittered on the threads of gold
Through his brown hair enwoven, and the while
Of strange adventures and fierce fights he told,
And showed to them afar a desert isle
That paled and melted in the distance blue; —
As the breeze rose, the light ship onward flew.

PERCEVALE.

"See in the distance, faint and far, yon line of mountain land,
They charged me as an errant knight, to watch beside the strand;
It was haunted by a champion, a dread unearthly foe,
And often, on this holy quest, he wrought our warriors woe:
By flame-bright mail, and sable shield, that champion you may know.

"A sound of music gently stole across the silver sea,
And a stately galley glided o'er the waters towards me,
With golden oars around her, and black sails in the air,
And the waves beneath her rippled to the song of the marinere.
High on the carvèd galley deck, a radiant ladye stood,
Her sweet and stately beauty reflected in the flood;
I thought how men of olden time, who saw that beauty bright,
Would have knelt down and worshipped her, as sea-born Aphrodite.

"She touched the land, the barren sand seemed gold beneath her feet,
The sunshine seemed more beautiful, the summer air more sweet;
Out from the vessel thronged apace her busy glittering train,
And soon a bright pavilion rose upon the arid plain;
A dainty banquet sparkled there beneath the purple shade,
And then the ladye saw me, and a sign to me she made;
A strange enchantment filled my soul -- I whispered in my pride,
None call in vain for Percevale, and hurried to her side.

"I gazed into her wondrous eyes; ere many words were spoken,
I had tasted of her dainty cheer, my fasting vow was broken;
I dared not to gainsay her, and I pledged her in the wine,
And as I drank, more gloriously her beauty seemed to shine.
She said an exiled princess she wandered o'er the main,
She had lost her lands and subjects, she had but her faithful train;
She would lead me to the haunt of my long-sought enemy;
Would I fight for her and love her, and cross with her the sea.
To fight for her! my heart and arm were thrilling at the thought,
And love her! ah, these gentle tones, they were with magic fraught.

"The peaceful stars were shining now so calmly in the gloom,
But in the tent the lamps flared dim, through clouds of rich perfume.
The music as in triumph rose, and swelled to wilder strains,
The fell wine in the beakers foamed, and glowed through all my veins,
I flung myself upon my knee, and cast all thought away,
But kissed her hand, and prayed that she would love me thus for aye.

"She drooped her fair head on my breast, and said in softest tone,
'Swear only ever mine to be, mine own love, mine alone.'
As trembling I turned to speak, I saw my cross-hilt sword
Unsheathed and gleaming lying there, upon the dark green sward.
The cross-hilt sword -- my knightly word -- it all rushed back to me,
The Sangrale quest, the vision blest, the subtle enemy;
A recreant and disloyal man, false to my solemn vow,
What hollow phantom haunted me, what snare beset me now!

"I started up and crossed myself, aloud in anguish prayed,
In whirling tumult circled all, in black and dizzy shade,
Pavilion, train, had vanished; but from the distance borne,
Came shrieks as souls in torment, and laughs as fiends in scorn.
I saw that unblest ship again, and strange forms thronged her side,
Round her mast the cold night blast, sobbed and wailed and sighed,
And roared and battered dismally her sails so black and wide.
The water burnt in pale blue flame behind her and before,
A form gigantic undefined was dimly hovering o'er;
Above the ship in lurid light, against the dark night sky,
I saw him with his sable shield, the demon enemy.

"It seemed a host of evil powers -- so wild the tumult came --
Had burst from their dark prison-house, and flashed abroad in flame;
All night upon the lonely shore, there raged a hideous strife,
And still I fought with failing strength, for honour and for life;
Until the purple light of dawn, stole o'er the glimmering sea,
And fast before the blessed morn, the ghastly shadows flee.

"There came an aged fisherman, and took me to his care,
For many days I tossed and raved, with burning fever there;
To day I sat upon the shore, and saw far far away
A ship, methought the blessed ship in which my sister lay;
With joy I saw she waited me, no breeze the ripple curled;
Methinks she sails like Holy Church, all through this restless world.
We know not how her way is steered, her wondrous course is sped,
But still she bears to one high goal, the living and the dead."

"Thou hast won worship brave Sir Percevale,"
Sir Lancelot said, "not so it fares with me,
Vainly I wander over hill and dale,
And vainly wander half our chivalrie.
Hector, my brother, and Sir Gawain late
I met, for long adventures did they wait.

"Without a glorious chance a year they pined;
Thus spoke to us a hermit, grave and sad,
'Ye all seek that which ye shall never find,
Save Percevale, and Bors, and Galahad.
I know it, but a craving deep unrest
Urges me forth upon a hopeless quest,

"And so I wander still." "Ride on fair knight,"
Said Percevale, "and honour be thy meed;
Methinks for thee that longed-for hidden light
Shall flash from worldly toil and glorious deeds.
Fiercer is Hector than his greater brother,
A ruthless blood-stained murderer is the other.

"Close to his fierce and guilty soul shall cleave
The blood of innocence for evermore;
Shall Gawain ever holy quest achieve?
Forbid my slaughtered father Pellionor;
And Lamorac my matchless brother slain,
So foully by him and his brethren twain.

"I would have given all on this side heaven
To have been with him, fighting by his side,
When with his streaming wounds and mail all riven,
Six full-armed ruffians hours he defied,
For, lion like, he fought them all combined,
Till Mordred's coward dagger stabbed him from behind.

"Sir Mordred has his life for Arthur's sake,
Sir Gawain his for thine; yet it may be
That with his falsest heart, Knight of the Lake,
He may survive to be a curse to thee.
It is enough that now he is thy friend,
Though dim forbodings tell me of that end.

"Leave Gawain," said Sir Lancelot, "for now
He is my friend whatever he may be,
Still art thou that same vision-seer I trow,
As when at Arthur's Table, next to me,
Thou satest first, a stripling from the west,
Tell us how seems to thee the present quest."

PERCEVALE.

"Sir Lancelot, I may hardly tell,
The glorious joy that thrilled me through,
When the heavenly radiance fell
Streaming from the Holy Grale,
At the feast in all our view;
Too bright it was for aught below,
When the music dying low
Hardly breathed for ecstasy,
Then I felt that even so,
In the music and the glow,
I should pass away and die.
Of all the knights, I only saw,
Dimly through the haze, Sir Bors,
And Sir Galahad by my side,
In the radiance glorified.
Then I felt the three should meet,
Far away beyond the sea;
Dangers, prisons, and defeat,
Must we suffer manfully;
Great adventures, high and sweet,
Might by us achieved be:
And then methinks the end!
A holy minster, fair and blest,
Where Galahad and I might rest,
Won the triumph, found the quest,
May heaven fulfilment send!

"In the tournament next day,
I drew a little space away,
Sir Lancelot, to see thee ride,
I marked thee in the hurtling fray,
Dash through the lists from side to side.
All the surging warrior crowd
Seemed but as the thunder cloud;
Thou the lightning darting past,
More than mortal splendour o'er thee,
Horse and rider fell before thee;
And above the trumpet blast,
Battle noises, wild and hot,
Pealing o'er the tumult loud,
Came the shoutings of the crowd, --
'Lancelot, Sir Lancelot.'

"Queen Guinevere on high the while,
Saw the tourney raging under,
I marked the summer of her smile,
Warming thee to battle thunder;
Pleased, the king to her 'gan say,
'Lancelot makes marvellous play,'
But she heard him not
For the shoutings of the crowd,
And all around the echo loud,
Of Lancelot, Sir Lancelot.

Then a mist before me came,
And I saw a future fray,
Like a bright destroying flame,
Saw thee cleave thy deadly way,
Circled by thy noble race,
Leader of an army fair; --
Yet how changed thy courteous grace,
Sadness, anguish, on thy face,
And indifference of despair.
Former comrades, tried and dear,
Rushed upon thy fatal spear,
Writhed in mortal throes;
On thee still did Arthur look,
All the light his face forsook,
Ah that glance I scarce might brook,
Spoke of mortal foes;
All my heart with horror shook,
And the mist arose.
Again I saw the blithe tourney,
And rushed into the tumult gay,
And strove to drive the thought away;
O Lancelot, my friend,
Thou brother to my brother slain,
Beware of proud and fierce Gawain,
Beware of this world's pleasures vain,
Bethink thee of the end.

"On the morrow, when I stood
In the minster chancel shade,
Where thrice fifty champions good
Stood in gleaming mail arrayed --
(Ah! how glorious seemed the knights;
Sunbeams from the eastern lights,
Many coloured o'er them played.)
As I watched thee standing there,
I saw no more the multitude;
The high cathedral arches fair
Seemed shrinking to a chapel rude,
Such as in woodland solitude
Some simple hermit -- sage and good --
Builds for his lonely prayer.
Many a hero's glittering sword
Decks the convent chapel low;
Banners, wont to float abroad,
Droop o'er quiet graves below;
As to wandering birds -- the nest --
As to wave-worn ships -- the haven,
So to us the cloister rest,
After life's wild storm is given,
There as trophies consecrate,
Often war-worn men
Blood-stained weapons dedicate;
Lancelot, wilt read thy fate
As I read it then?"

"Thou gentle son of good King Pellionor,
Strange are thy visions," Lancelot began,
"What, I a foe to Arthur -- nevermore.
Nor think I, while I am a living man,
To hang my sword upon some abbey wall,
To rust in darkness, let what may befall.

"Methinks that I could ne'er be blest
Within the cloistered walls,
But rather, as of old, would rest
In twilight water halls;
Where never sounded battle strife,
Nor din of toil or care;
For all the griefs of mortal life
Are gone -- forgotten there.

"Deep in the Bretagne forest-lands
The enchanted lake doth lie;
And there the fairy palace stands,
Where all my youth went by.
Beneath the towers, all the day,
We heard the water swell
Sometimes from very far away
Sounds of the real world fell:
The trumpet proud, or the bugle gay,
Or the sound of a chapel bell.

"The damsel of the lake alone
Ruled us with gentle hand;
When Hector, Bors, and I were grown,
She left us on the strand.
Then o'er the isle the waters spread,
The palace sunk below,
And far beneath the waves, 'tis said,
Its turrets glitter now.
And still, whene'er I listen long,
These wavelets to mine ear,
Bring fragments of the strange old song,
That once we used to hear.

"But as each year more earnestly
Our higher parts we play;
The freakish lights of fancy die
Before a brighter day.
And seldom now can dreamy chimes
Of elfin music break,
The sterner thoughts of later times
With memories of the lake.

"Oh! for those woodlands free,
For I am weary of the barren sea!
As if uneasily for rest repining,
It moans and murmurs ever ceaselessly.
Oh! for the long green aisles of branches twining;
The silver lakes amid the woodlands shining;
The thickets where the slender deer are straying;
The groves where knights and ladies ride a-maying;
The wild adventures and the trackless ways
The forest far above all other things I praise."

"Bright is the greenwood," Percevale replied,
"But ah! to me a higher glory breathes,
Where, in my native land, the purple heaths,
Bounded by blue hills, lengthen far and wide;
The grey mists clothe the precipice's side;
And dwellings of a people, free and bold,
Who in their rocky fastnesses defied
The pride of Rome, and back the legions rolled,
And yet shall hurl the Saxon from their mountain hold."

The Galahad answered, "Ay, thou Knight of Wales,
So may it be; but I will praise the sea,
While through the darkening waves our vessel sails,
That break in moonlit sparkles on our lee.
Doth it not mirror still the heavenly sky,
Undimmed by shadows of a changeful world;
Are not its waves, in glorious unity,
Lulled to a child-like rest, or in wild billows whirled?
Do not the countless water drops, that ever
Through earth's dark caves and mountain hollows roam,
Hasten, through purling brook and rushing river,
Back to the sea -- their home?
Their home where all earth's changes cease to be,
The rest of perfect life, the wide and ancient sea!"