CONCLUSION<\/p>\n
By noon the next day, Gawayne and his host
\nRode side by side along the perilous coast
\nOf the gray Mere, from whose unquiet sleep
\nReverberating murmurs of the deep
\nStartled the still December’s listening air.
\nThe baron, shuddering, pointed seaward. “There,”
\nHe said, “year in, year out, these voices haunt
\nThat fearful water; heaven knows what they want!
\nMen tell me–and I have no doubt it’s true–
\nThey are knights-errant whom the Green Knight slew!
\nWoe unto him, the over-bold, who dares
\nAdventure near that uncouth monster’s snares!”
\nQuoth Gawayne: “How have _you_ escaped the net?”
\nThe baron answered: “I? We never met!
\nWhen I’m about, he seems to shun the place,
\nAnd where he is, I never show my face;
\nBut if we did meet, ‘t would be safe to say
\nNot more than one of us would get away!”<\/p>\n
And then the baron told tales by the score
\nAbout the Green Knight’s quenchless thirst for gore,
\nAnd kept repeating that no magic charm
\nWas proof against the prowess of his arm;
\nAt his first blow each vain defense must fall,
\nFor he was arch-magician over all.
\nAnd as from tale to tale the baron ran,
\nSir Gawayne, had he been another man,
\nWould certainly have felt his heart’s blood curdle,
\nDespite his secret wearing of the girdle;
\nBut when the baron finally suggested
\nAbandoning the venture, and protested
\nThat the whole monstrous business was absurd,
\nSir Gawayne simply said: “I gave my word.”
\nAnd when the baron saw he would not bend,
\nHe seemed to lose all patience. “Well, my friend,
\nI’ll go no further with you. On your head
\nShall be your own mad blood when you are dead.
\nYonder your two roads fork; pause there, I pray,
\nAnd ponder well before you choose your way.
\nOne takes the hills, one winds along the wave;
\nTo Camelot this,–the other to your grave!
\nChoose the high road, Sir Gawayne; shun the danger!
\nSay you were misdirected by a stranger;–
\nI swear by all that’s sacred, I’ll not tell
\nOne syllable to a soul:–and so farewell!”
\nHe galloped off without another word,
\nAnd vanished where the road turned. Gawayne heard,
\nLong after he had disappeared, the sound
\nOf iron hoof-beats on the frozen ground,
\nTill all died into silence, save those drear
\nAnd hollow voices from the Murmuring Mere.<\/p>\n
But Gawayne chose the lower road, and passed
\nAlong the desolate shore. The die was cast.
\nThe western skies, as the red sun sank low,
\nCast purple shades across the drifted snow,
\nAnd Gawayne knew that the dread hour was come
\nFor the fulfillment of his martyrdom.<\/p>\n
And now, from just beyond a jutting hill,
\nCame hideous sounds, as of a giant mill
\nThat hisses, roars, and sputters, clicks and clacks;–
\nIt was the Green Knight sharpening his axe!
\nAnd Gawayne, coming past the corner, found him,
\nWith ghastly mouldering skulls and bones strewn round him,
\nIn joyous fury urging the keen steel
\nAgainst the surface of his grinding wheel.
\nThe place was a wild hollow, circled round
\nWith barren hills, and on the bottom ground
\nStood the Green Chapel, moss-grown, solitary;–
\nIn sooth, it seemed the devil’s mortuary!
\nThe Green Knight’s back was turned, and he stirred not
\nTill Gawayne hailed him sharply; then he shot
\nOne glance–as when, o’erhead, a living wire
\nStartles the night with flashes of green fire;–
\nThen hurried forward, bland as bland could be,
\nAnd greeted Gawayne with green courtesy.
\n“Dear sir, I ask a thousand pardons; pray
\nForgive me. You are punctual to the day;
\nThat’s good! Of course I knew you would not fail.
\nHow do you do? You look a trifle pale;
\nI trust, with all my heart, you are not ill?
\nJust the cold air? It does blow rather chill!
\nWhat can I do to cheer you? Let me see;–
\nSuppose I brew a cup of hot green tea?
\nYou’ld rather not? You’re pressed for time? Of course,
\nI understand; then just get off your horse,
\nAnd I’ll do all I can to expedite
\nOur little business for you. There, that’s right;
\nAnd now your helmet? Thanks; and if you please
\nPerhaps you’ll kindly kneel down on your knees,
\nAs I did when I came to Camelot; So!
\nAre you all ready? Will you bide the blow?”
\nAnd Gawayne said “I will,” in such soft notes
\nAs happy bridegrooms utter, when their throats
\nAre paralyzed with blest anticipation;–
\n(What Gawayne looked for was decapitation!)
\nAnd then the Green Knight swung his axe in air
\nWith a loud whirr; and Gawayne, kneeling there,
\nShrank back an inch; and the green giant stayed
\nHis threatening hand, and with a cold sneer said:
\n“You shrink, sir, from the axe; I can’t hit true
\nUnless you hold still, as I did for you.”
\n“Your pardon,” Gawayne said, with bated breath;
\n“This time I swear to hold as still as death.”
\nHe did so, and the Green Knight swung again
\nHis axe, and whirled it round his head, and then,
\nPausing a second time, said: “Very good!
\nYou’re holding quite still now; I knew you would!”
\nGawayne, in anger, said: “Jest, if you like,
\nAfter the blow; tarry no longer; strike!”
\nSo once again the ponderous axe was raised;
\nBut this time down it came, and lightly grazed
\nSir Gawayne’s neck. He felt the hot blood flow,
\nAnd saw red drops that sank deep in the snow,
\nAnd then he jumped up, faced his foe, and cried:
\n“Enough: you owed me one blow, though I died;
\nBut be you man or beast or devil abhorred,
\nI yield no further; with my mortal sword
\nI do defy you; and if mortal man
\nMay hope against” …
\nBut the Green Knight began
\nA low melodious laugh, like running brooks
\nWhose pebbly babble fills the shadowy nooks
\nOf green-aisled woodlands, when the winds are still.
\n“My friend, we bear each other no ill will.
\nWhen first I swung my axe, you showed some fear;
\nI owed you that much for your blow last year.
\nThe second time I swung,–yet spared your life,–
\nThat paid you for the kiss you gave my wife!”
\n“Your wife!” “My wife, Sir Gawayne; ‘t was my word;
\nAnd when I swung my weapon for the third
\nAnd last time, then I made the red blood spirt
\nFor that green girdle underneath your shirt!
\nYou played me false, my friend!”
\nAnd Gawayne knelt
\nOnce more, and casting off the magic belt,
\nIn bitter broken words confessed his shame,
\nAnd begged the Green Knight to avenge the name
\nOf injured knighthood, and with one last blow
\nTo end his guilty life. “Nay, nay, not so,”
\nThe other softly said. “Be of good cheer;
\nYour fault was small, for all men hold life dear.
\nWe tempted you, my friend, with all our might,
\nAnd proved you in good sooth a noble knight;
\nA veritable Joseph, sir, you are!”
\nQuoth Gawayne drily, “Thanks, Lord Potiphar!
\nBut may I ask you why you played this part?”
\nThe other said: “Ask Lady Elfinhart!”<\/p>\n
He smiled, and from his smile a genial glow
\nOf green mid-summer seemed to overflow,
\nFilling with verdure all that barren place.
\nThe warm red blood rushed to Sir Gawayne’s face;
\nHe caught his breath, and in his eager eyes
\nThere shone a sudden flash of dark surmise,
\nAnd then he stood a long while pondering;
\nBut in his breast his heart began to sing
\nThe old, old music whose still echoes roll
\nForever voiceless through the listening soul.
\nHe said farewell to his good fairy friend
\nAs in a dream, where real and unreal blend
\nIn phantom unison, and with the light
\nOf love to lead him home, rode through the night,
\nBeside the tranquil murmurs of the Mere,
\nAnd through the silence of the passing year;
\nAnd earth and sea and starlit sky took part
\nIn the still exaltation of his heart,
\nWhile all but love and wonder was forgot,
\nUntil he came to high-towered Camelot.<\/p>\n
To Camelot he came, and there he found
\nThe good King Arthur and his Table Round
\nAwaiting his return in anxious doubt;
\nBut ere he passed the gates a mighty shout
\nRose from the watchmen on the outward wall
\nAnd bore the tidings to the inmost hall.
\nFrom every window flaunting flags were flung;
\nFrom the high battlements brass trumpets sung;
\nAnd great bells, chiming in the topmost tower,
\nPealed salutation to the joyous hour,
\nAs Gawayne, riding through the cullis-port,
\nFaced the glad throng that filled the palace court.<\/p>\n
And with this tribute paid to knightly glory
\nIt seems most fitting to conclude my story.
\nEntreat me not, dear reader, to impart
\nFurther of Gawayne, or of Elfinhart.
\nLet your own fancy round the story out
\nWhatever way you please; I cannot doubt
\nThe sequel; but when I, in silent thought,
\nHad brought Sir Gawayne back to her, and sought
\nWith hand profane to lift the veil, behind
\nWhose secret shelter their two hearts enshrined
\nThe mutual covenant of love’s mystery,
\nThat pure fane would not desecrated be.
\nBut this alone I know: the power that wove
\nThrough human lives the warp and woof of love
\nWrought not in darkness, nor with hand unsure;–
\nHis fabric must forevermore endure.
\nAnd hence I doubt not that these two were blest
\nAs none may be, save they who have confessed
\nAllegiance to that mighty spirit’s law,
\nAnd trod his holy ground with reverent awe.<\/p>\n\n\t\t\t Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t