Coursed one another more on open ground Beneath a troubled heaven than red and pale

Across the face of Enid hearing her;
While slowly falling as a scale that falls,
When weight is added only grain by grain,
Sank her sweet head upon her gentle
breast;

530

Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word,
Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it.
So moving without answer to her rest
She found no rest, and ever fail'd to draw
The quiet night into her blood, but lay
Contemplating her own unworthiness;
And when the pale and bloodless east be-
gan

To quicken to the sun, arose, and raised Her mother too, and hand in hand they moved

Down to the meadow where the jousts were held,

And waited there for Yniol and Geraint.

Turn'd, and beheld the four, and all his face

Glow'd like the heart of a great fire at Yule,

So burnt he was with passion, crying out, 'Do battle for it then,' no more; and thrice 561

They clash'd together, and thrice they brake their spears.

Then each, dishorsed and drawing, lash'd at each

So often and with such blows that all the crowd

Wonder'd, and now and then from distant walls

There came a clapping as of phantom hands.

So twice they fought, and twice they breathed, and still

The dew of their great labor and the blood Of their strong bodies, flowing, drain'd their force.

But either's force was match'd till Yniol's cry,

570

651

Among his burnish'd brethren of the pool;
And half asleep she made comparison
Of that and these to her own faded self
And the gay court, and fell asleep again,
And dreamt herself was such a faded form
Among her burnish'd sisters of the pool.
But this was in the garden of a king,
And tho' she lay dark in the pool she knew
That all was bright; that all about were
birds

Of sunny plume in gilded trellis-work;
That all the turf was rich in plots that
look'd
Each like a garnet or a turkis in it;
And lords and ladies of the high court

went

660

700

For love or fear, or seeking favor of us,
Because we have our earldom back again.
And yester-eve I would not tell you of it,
But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn.
Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise?
For I myself unwillingly have worn
My faded suit, as you, my child, have yours,
And, howsoever patient, Yniol his.

Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house,
With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare,
And page, and maid, and squire, and senes-
chal,

710

And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all

That appertains to noble maintenance.
Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house;
But since our fortune swerved from sun to
shade,

And all thro' that young traitor, cruel need
Constrain'd us, but a better time has come.
So clothe yourself in this, that better fits
Our mended fortunes and a prince's bride;
For tho' ye won the prize of fairest fair,
And tho' I heard him call you fairest fair,
Let never maiden think, however fair, 721
She is not fairer in new clothes than old.
And should some great court-lady say, the

prince

For Enid, and when Yniol made report
Of that good mother making Enid gay
In such apparel as might well beseem
His princess, or indeed the stately Queen,
He answer'd: 'Earl, entreat her by my
love,
760

Albeit I give no reason but my wish,
That she ride with me in her faded silk.'
Yniol with that hard message went; it fell
Like flaws in summer laying lusty corn;
For Enid, all abash'd she knew not why,
Dared not to glance at her good mother's
face,

But silently, in all obedience,

Her mother silent too, nor helping her, Laid from her limbs the costly-broider'd gift,

769

And robed them in her ancient suit again, And so descended. Never man rejoiced More than Geraint to greet her thus attired;

And glancing all at once as keenly at her As careful robins eye the delver's toil, Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall, But rested with her sweet face satisfied; Then seeing cloud upon the mother's brow, Her by both hands he caught, and sweetly said:

'O my new mother, be not wroth or grieved

At thy new son, for my petition to her. 780 When late I left Caerleon, our great Queen,