And thither came Geraint, and underneath
Beheld the long street of a little town
In a long valley, on one side whereof,
White from the mason's hand, a fortress
rose;

And on one side a castle in decay,

Beyond a bridge that spann'd a dry ravine.

And out of town and valley came a noise As of a broad brook o'er a shingly bed Brawling, or like a clamor of the rooks At distance, ere they settle for the night.

And onward to the fortress rode the three,

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Where can I get me harborage for the night?

And arms, arms, arms to fight my enemy? Speak!'

Whereat the armorer turning all amazed And seeing one so gay in purple silks, Came forward with the helmet yet in hand And answer'd: Pardon me, O stranger knight;

We hold a tourney here to-morrow morn, And there is scantly time for half the work.

Arms? truth! I know not; all are wanted here.

Harborage? truth, good truth, I know not,

There musing sat the hoary-headed earl His dress a suit of fray'd magnificence, Once fit for feasts of ceremony - and said: 'Whither, fair son?' to whom Geraint replied,

O friend, I seek a harborage for the night.'

Then Yniol, Enter therefore and partake
The slender entertainment of a house
Once rich, now poor, but ever open-door'd.'

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For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread the board,

And stood behind, and waited on the three.
And, seeing her so sweet and serviceable,
Geraint had longing in him evermore
To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb
That crost the trencher as she laid it
down.

But after all had eaten, then Geraint,

For now the wine made summer in his veins,

Let his eye rove in following, or rest
On Enid at her lowly handmaid-work,
Now here, now there, about the dusky

hall;

Then suddenly addrest the hoary earl:

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Fair host and earl, I pray your courtesy;

This sparrow-hawk, what is he? tell me of him.

His name? but no, good faith, I will not have it;

For if he be the knight whom late I saw Ride into that new fortress by your town,

mean,

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He sow'd a slander in the common ear, Affirming that his father left him gold, And in my charge, which was not render'd to him;

Bribed with large promises the men who served

About my person, the more easily Because my means were somewhat broken into

Thro' open doors and hospitality;

Raised my own town against me in the night

Before my Enid's birthday, sack'd my house;

From mine own earldom foully ousted me; Built that new fort to overawe my friends, For truly there are those who love me yet; 461 And keeps me in this ruinous castle here, Where doubtless he would put me soon to death

But that his pride too much despises me.
And I myself sometimes despise myself;
For I have let men be and have their way,
Am much too gentle, have not used my
power;

Nor know I whether I be very base
Or very manful, whether very wise
Or very foolish; only this I know,
That whatsoever evil happen to me,
I seem to suffer nothing heart or limb,
But can endure it all most patiently.'

470

But in this tournament can no man tilt,
Except the lady he loves best be there.
Two forks are fixt into the meadow ground,
And over these is placed a silver wand,
And over that a golden sparrow-hawk,
The prize of beauty for the fairest there.
And this, what knight soever be in field
Lays claim to for the lady at his side,
And tilts with my good nephew thereupon,
Who being apt at arms and big of bone
Has ever won it for the lady with him, 490
And toppling over all antagonism

Has earn'd himself the name of sparrowhawk.

But thou, that hast no lady, canst not fight.'