From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
In tournament or tilt1, Sir Percivale,
Whom Arthur and his knighthood called The Pure,
Had passed into the silent life of prayer,
Praise, fast, and alms; and leaving for the cowl
The helmet in an abbey far away
From Camelot, there, and not long after, died.
And one, a fellow-monk4 among the rest,
Ambrosius, loved him much beyond the rest,
And honoured him, and wrought5 into his heart
A way by love that wakened love within,
To answer that which came: and as they sat
Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darkening half
The cloisters6, on a gustful April morn
That puffed7 the swaying branches into smoke
Above them, ere the summer when he died
The monk Ambrosius questioned Percivale:
“O brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke,
Spring after spring, for half a hundred years:
For never have I known the world without,
Nor ever strayed beyond the pale: but thee,
When first thou camest—such a courtesy
Spake through the limbs and in the voice—I knew
For one of those who eat in Arthur’s hall;
For good ye are and bad, and like to coins,
Some true, some light, but every one of you
Stamped with the image of the King; and now
Tell me, what drove thee from the Table Round,
My brother? was it earthly passion crost?”
“Nay9,” said the knight2; “for no such passion mine.
But the sweet vision of the Holy Grail
Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries10,
And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out
Among us in the jousts11, while women watch
Who wins, who falls; and waste the spiritual strength
Within us, better offered up to Heaven.”
To whom the monk: “The Holy Grail!—I trust
We are green in Heaven’s eyes; but here too much
We moulder—as to things without I mean—
Yet one of your own knights12, a guest of ours,
Told us of this in our refectory,
But spake with such a sadness and so low
We heard not half of what he said. What is it?
The phantom13 of a cup that comes and goes?”
“Nay, monk! what phantom?” answered Percivale.
“The cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord
Drank at the last sad supper with his own.
This, from the blessed land of Aromat—
After the day of darkness, when the dead
Went wandering o’er Moriah—the good saint
Arimathaean Joseph, journeying brought
To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord.
And there awhile it bode15; and if a man
Could touch or see it, he was healed at once,
By faith, of all his ills. But then the times
Grew to such evil that the holy cup
Was caught away to Heaven, and disappeared.”
To whom the monk: “From our old books I know
That Joseph came of old to Glastonbury,
And there the heathen Prince, Arviragus,
Gave him an isle16 of marsh17 whereon to build;
And there he built with wattles from the marsh
A little lonely church in days of yore,
For so they say, these books of ours, but seem
Mute of this miracle, far as I have read.
But who first saw the holy thing today?”
“A woman,” answered Percivale, “a nun18,
And one no further off in blood from me
Than sister; and if ever holy maid
With knees of adoration19 wore the stone,
A holy maid; though never maiden20 glowed,
But that was in her earlier maidenhood22,
With such a fervent23 flame of human love,
Which being rudely blunted, glanced and shot
Only to holy things; to prayer and praise
She gave herself, to fast and alms. And yet,
Nun as she was, the scandal of the Court,
Sin against Arthur and the Table Round,
And the strange sound of an adulterous race,
Across the iron grating of her cell
Beat, and she prayed and fasted all the more.
“And he to whom she told her sins, or what
Her all but utter whiteness held for sin,
A man wellnigh a hundred winters old,
Spake often with her of the Holy Grail,
A legend handed down through five or six,
And each of these a hundred winters old,
From our Lord’s time. And when King Arthur made
His Table Round, and all men’s hearts became
Clean for a season, surely he had thought
That now the Holy Grail would come again;
But sin broke out. Ah, Christ, that it would come,
And heal the world of all their wickedness!
‘O Father!’ asked the maiden, ‘might it come
To me by prayer and fasting?’ ‘Nay,’ said he,
‘I know not, for thy heart is pure as snow.’
And so she prayed and fasted, till the sun
Shone, and the wind blew, through her, and I thought
She might have risen and floated when I saw her.
“For on a day she sent to speak with me.
And when she came to speak, behold24 her eyes
Beyond my knowing of them, beautiful,
Beyond all knowing of them, wonderful,
Beautiful in the light of holiness.
And ‘O my brother Percivale,’ she said,
‘Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail:
For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound
As of a silver horn from o’er the hills
Blown, and I thought, “It is not Arthur’s use
To hunt by moonlight;” and the slender sound
As from a distance beyond distance grew
Coming upon me—O never harp25 nor horn,
Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand,
Was like that music as it came; and then
Streamed through my cell a cold and silver beam,
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail,
Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive,
Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed
With rosy26 colours leaping on the wall;
And then the music faded, and the Grail
Past, and the beam decayed, and from the walls
The rosy quiverings died into the night.
So now the Holy Thing is here again
Among us, brother, fast thou too and pray,
And tell thy brother knights to fast and pray,
That so perchance the vision may be seen
By thee and those, and all the world be healed.’
“Then leaving the pale nun, I spake of this
To all men; and myself fasted and prayed
Always, and many among us many a week
Fasted and prayed even to the uttermost,
Expectant of the wonder that would be.
“And one there was among us, ever moved
Among us in white armour27, Galahad.
‘God make thee good as thou art beautiful,’
Said Arthur, when he dubbed28 him knight; and none,
In so young youth, was ever made a knight
Till Galahad; and this Galahad, when he heard
My sister’s vision, filled me with amaze;
His eyes became so like her own, they seemed
Hers, and himself her brother more than I.
“Sister or brother none had he; but some
Called him a son of Lancelot, and some said
Begotten29 by enchantment—chatterers they,
Like birds of passage piping up and down,
That gape30 for flies—we know not whence they come;
For when was Lancelot wanderingly lewd31?
“But she, the wan14 sweet maiden, shore away
Clean from her forehead all that wealth of hair
Which made a silken mat-work for her feet;
And out of this she plaited broad and long
A strong sword-belt, and wove with silver thread
And crimson32 in the belt a strange device,
A crimson grail within a silver beam;
And saw the bright boy-knight, and bound it on him,
Saying, ‘My knight, my love, my knight of heaven,
O thou, my love, whose love is one with mine,
I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind33 my belt.
Go forth34, for thou shalt see what I have seen,
And break through all, till one will crown thee king
Far in the spiritual city:’ and as she spake
She sent the deathless passion in her eyes
Through him, and made him hers, and laid her mind
On him, and he believed in her belief.
“Then came a year of miracle: O brother,
In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,
Fashioned by Merlin ere he past away,
And carven with strange figures; and in and out
The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll35
Of letters in a tongue no man could read.
And Merlin called it ‘The Siege perilous36,’
Perilous for good and ill; ‘for there,’ he said,
‘No man could sit but he should lose himself:’
And once by misadvertence Merlin sat
In his own chair, and so was lost; but he,
Galahad, when he heard of Merlin’s doom37,
Cried, ‘If I lose myself, I save myself!’
“Then on a summer night it came to pass,
While the great banquet lay along the hall,
That Galahad would sit down in Merlin’s chair.
“And all at once, as there we sat, we heard
A cracking and a riving of the roofs,
And rending38, and a blast, and overhead
Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry.
And in the blast there smote39 along the hall
A beam of light seven times more clear than day:
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail
All over covered with a luminous40 cloud.
And none might see who bare it, and it past.
But every knight beheld41 his fellow’s face
As in a glory, and all the knights arose,
And staring each at other like dumb men
Stood, till I found a voice and sware a vow43.
“I sware a vow before them all, that I,
Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride
A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it,
Until I found and saw it, as the nun
My sister saw it; and Galahad sware the vow,
And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot’s cousin, sware,
And Lancelot sware, and many among the knights,
And Gawain sware, and louder than the rest.”
Then spake the monk Ambrosius, asking him,
“What said the King? Did Arthur take the vow?”
“Nay, for my lord,” said Percivale, “the King,
Was not in hall: for early that same day,
Scaped through a cavern44 from a bandit hold,
An outraged45 maiden sprang into the hall
Crying on help: for all her shining hair
Was smeared46 with earth, and either milky47 arm
Red-rent with hooks of bramble, and all she wore
Torn as a sail that leaves the rope is torn
In tempest: so the King arose and went
To smoke the scandalous hive of those wild bees
That made such honey in his realm. Howbeit
Some little of this marvel48 he too saw,
Returning o’er the plain that then began
To darken under Camelot; whence the King
Looked up, calling aloud, ‘Lo, there! the roofs
Of our great hall are rolled in thunder-smoke!
Pray Heaven, they be not smitten49 by the bolt.’
For dear to Arthur was that hall of ours,
As having there so oft with all his knights
Feasted, and as the stateliest under heaven.
“O brother, had you known our mighty50 hall,
Which Merlin built for Arthur long ago!
For all the sacred mount of Camelot,
And all the dim rich city, roof by roof,
Tower after tower, spire51 beyond spire,
By grove52, and garden-lawn, and rushing brook53,
Climbs to the mighty hall that Merlin built.
And four great zones of sculpture, set betwixt
With many a mystic symbol, gird the hall:
And in the lowest beasts are slaying54 men,
And in the second men are slaying beasts,
And on the third are warriors56, perfect men,
And on the fourth are men with growing wings,
And over all one statue in the mould
Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a crown,
And peaked wings pointed57 to the Northern Star.
And eastward58 fronts the statue, and the crown
And both the wings are made of gold, and flame
At sunrise till the people in far fields,
Wasted so often by the heathen hordes59,
Behold it, crying, ‘We have still a King.’
“And, brother, had you known our hall within,
Broader and higher than any in all the lands!
Where twelve great windows blazon60 Arthur’s wars,
And all the light that falls upon the board
Streams through the twelve great battles of our King.
Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end,
Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere61,
Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur.
And also one to the west, and counter to it,
And blank: and who shall blazon it? when and how?—
O there, perchance, when all our wars are done,
The brand Excalibur will be cast away.
“So to this hall full quickly rode the King,
In horror lest the work by Merlin wrought,
Dreamlike, should on the sudden vanish, wrapt
In unremorseful folds of rolling fire.
And in he rode, and up I glanced, and saw
The golden dragon sparkling over all:
And many of those who burnt the hold, their arms
Hacked62, and their foreheads grimed with smoke, and seared,
Followed, and in among bright faces, ours,
Full of the vision, prest: and then the King
Spake to me, being nearest, ‘Percivale,’
(Because the hall was all in tumult—some
Vowing63, and some protesting), ‘what is this?’
“O brother, when I told him what had chanced,
My sister’s vision, and the rest, his face
Darkened, as I have seen it more than once,
When some brave deed seemed to be done in vain,
Darken; and ‘Woe is me, my knights,’ he cried,
‘Had I been here, ye had not sworn the vow.’
Bold was mine answer, ‘Had thyself been here,
My King, thou wouldst have sworn.’ ‘Yea, yea,’ said he,
‘Art thou so bold and hast not seen the Grail?’
“‘Nay, lord, I heard the sound, I saw the light,
But since I did not see the Holy Thing,
I sware a vow to follow it till I saw.’
“Then when he asked us, knight by knight, if any
Had seen it, all their answers were as one:
‘Nay, lord, and therefore have we sworn our vows64.’
“‘Lo now,’ said Arthur, ‘have ye seen a cloud?
What go ye into the wilderness65 to see?’
“Then Galahad on the sudden, and in a voice
Shrilling66 along the hall to Arthur, called,
‘But I, Sir Arthur, saw the Holy Grail,
I saw the Holy Grail and heard a cry—
“O Galahad, and O Galahad, follow me.”‘
“‘Ah, Galahad, Galahad,’ said the King, ‘for such
As thou art is the vision, not for these.
Thy holy nun and thou have seen a sign—
Holier is none, my Percivale, than she—
A sign to maim67 this Order which I made.
But ye, that follow but the leader’s bell’
(Brother, the King was hard upon his knights)
‘Taliessin is our fullest throat of song,
And one hath sung and all the dumb will sing.
Lancelot is Lancelot, and hath overborne
Five knights at once, and every younger knight,
Unproven, holds himself as Lancelot,
Till overborne by one, he learns—and ye,
What are ye? Galahads?—no, nor Percivales’
(For thus it pleased the King to range me close
After Sir Galahad); ‘nay,’ said he, ‘but men
With strength and will to right the wronged, of power
To lay the sudden heads of violence flat,
Knights that in twelve great battles splashed and dyed
The strong White Horse in his own heathen blood—
But one hath seen, and all the blind will see.
Go, since your vows are sacred, being made:
Yet—for ye know the cries of all my realm
Pass through this hall—how often, O my knights,
Your places being vacant at my side,
This chance of noble deeds will come and go
Unchallenged, while ye follow wandering fires
Lost in the quagmire68! Many of you, yea most,
Return no more: ye think I show myself
Too dark a prophet: come now, let us meet
The morrow morn once more in one full field
Of gracious pastime, that once more the King,
Before ye leave him for this Quest, may count
The yet-unbroken strength of all his knights,
Rejoicing in that Order which he made.’
“So when the sun broke next from under ground,
All the great table of our Arthur closed
And clashed in such a tourney and so full,
So many lances broken—never yet
Had Camelot seen the like, since Arthur came;
And I myself and Galahad, for a strength
Was in us from this vision, overthrew69
So many knights that all the people cried,
And almost burst the barriers in their heat,
Shouting, ‘Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale!’
“But when the next day brake from under ground—
O brother, had you known our Camelot,
Built by old kings, age after age, so old
The King himself had fears that it would fall,
So strange, and rich, and dim; for where the roofs
Tottered70 toward each other in the sky,
Met foreheads all along the street of those
Who watched us pass; and lower, and where the long
Rich galleries, lady-laden, weighed the necks
Of dragons clinging to the crazy walls,
Thicker than drops from thunder, showers of flowers
Fell as we past; and men and boys astride
On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan,
At all the corners, named us each by name,
Calling, ‘God speed!’ but in the ways below
The knights and ladies wept, and rich and poor
Wept, and the King himself could hardly speak
For grief, and all in middle street the Queen,
Who rode by Lancelot, wailed71 and shrieked72 aloud,
‘This madness has come on us for our sins.’
So to the Gate of the three Queens we came,
Where Arthur’s wars are rendered mystically,
And thence departed every one his way.
“And I was lifted up in heart, and thought
Of all my late-shown prowess in the lists,
How my strong lance had beaten down the knights,
So many and famous names; and never yet
Had heaven appeared so blue, nor earth so green,
For all my blood danced in me, and I knew
That I should light upon the Holy Grail.
“Thereafter, the dark warning of our King,
That most of us would follow wandering fires,
Came like a driving gloom across my mind.
Then every evil word I had spoken once,
And every evil thought I had thought of old,
And every evil deed I ever did,
Awoke and cried, ‘This Quest is not for thee.’
And lifting up mine eyes, I found myself
Alone, and in a land of sand and thorns,
And I was thirsty even unto death;
And I, too, cried, ‘This Quest is not for thee.’
“And on I rode, and when I thought my thirst
Would slay55 me, saw deep lawns, and then a brook,
With one sharp rapid, where the crisping white
Played ever back upon the sloping wave,
And took both ear and eye; and o’er the brook
Were apple-trees, and apples by the brook
Fallen, and on the lawns. ‘I will rest here,’
I said, ‘I am not worthy74 of the Quest;’
But even while I drank the brook, and ate
The goodly apples, all these things at once
Fell into dust, and I was left alone,
And thirsting, in a land of sand and thorns.
“And then behold a woman at a door
Spinning; and fair the house whereby she sat,
And kind the woman’s eyes and innocent,
And all her bearing gracious; and she rose
Opening her arms to meet me, as who should say,
‘Rest here;’ but when I touched her, lo! she, too,
Fell into dust and nothing, and the house
Became no better than a broken shed,
And in it a dead babe; and also this
Fell into dust, and I was left alone.
“And on I rode, and greater was my thirst.
Then flashed a yellow gleam across the world,
And where it smote the plowshare in the field,
The plowman left his plowing76, and fell down
Before it; where it glittered on her pail,
The milkmaid left her milking, and fell down
Before it, and I knew not why, but thought
‘The sun is rising,’ though the sun had risen.
Then was I ware42 of one that on me moved
In golden armour with a crown of gold
About a casque all jewels; and his horse
In golden armour jewelled everywhere:
And on the splendour came, flashing me blind;
And seemed to me the Lord of all the world,
Being so huge. But when I thought he meant
To crush me, moving on me, lo! he, too,
Opened his arms to embrace me as he came,
And up I went and touched him, and he, too,
Fell into dust, and I was left alone
And wearying in a land of sand and thorns.
“And I rode on and found a mighty hill,
And on the top, a city walled: the spires77
Pricked78 with incredible pinnacles79 into heaven.
And by the gateway80 stirred a crowd; and these
Cried to me climbing, ‘Welcome, Percivale!
Thou mightiest81 and thou purest among men!’
And glad was I and clomb, but found at top
No man, nor any voice. And thence I past
Far through a ruinous city, and I saw
That man had once dwelt there; but there I found
Only one man of an exceeding age.
‘Where is that goodly company,’ said I,
‘That so cried out upon me?’ and he had
Scarce any voice to answer, and yet gasped82,
‘Whence and what art thou?’ and even as he spoke73
Fell into dust, and disappeared, and I
Was left alone once more, and cried in grief,
‘Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself
And touch it, it will crumble83 into dust.’
“And thence I dropt into a lowly vale,
Low as the hill was high, and where the vale
Was lowest, found a chapel84, and thereby85
A holy hermit86 in a hermitage,
To whom I told my phantoms87, and he said:
“‘O son, thou hast not true humility88,
The highest virtue89, mother of them all;
For when the Lord of all things made Himself
Naked of glory for His mortal change,
“Take thou my robe,” she said, “for all is thine,”
And all her form shone forth with sudden light
So that the angels were amazed, and she
Followed Him down, and like a flying star
Led on the gray-haired wisdom............