![\"Photo](\"https:\/\/s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com\/courses-images-archive-read-only\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/670\/2015\/06\/22205017\/sculpture-227249_1280-225x300.jpg\")
<\/a>\r\nLooked up, and saw his lady standing by.\r\nQuoth he: \"And if this conjurer unblest\r\nWin no acceptance of his bitter jest,\r\nHow then in after days shall Arthur's court\r\nConfront the calumny and foul report\r\nOf idle tongues?\" The wrath in Gawayne's eyes\r\nHashed for an instant; then in humbler wise\r\nHe spoke on: \"Yet God grant I be not blind\r\nWhere honor lights the way; for to my mind\r\nTrue honor bids us shun the devil's den,\r\nTo fight God's battles in the world of men.\r\nWho takes this challenge up, I doubt will rue it.\"\r\nQuoth Elfinhart: \"I'ld like to see you do it!\"\r\nShe laughed a gay laugh, but by hard constraint:\r\nThen turned and hid her face, all pale and faint,\r\nAs one might be who stabs and turns the knife\r\nIn the warm heart of one more dear than life.\r\nShe turned and Gawayne saw not; but he heard,\r\nAnd felt his heart-strings tighten at her word.\r\n\"Nay, lady, if you wish it I will try;\r\nBe your least wish my will, although I die!\r\nYet one thing, if I may, I fain would ask,\r\nBefore I make the venture;--if this task\r\nProve fateful as it threatens,--do you care?\"\r\n\"Perhaps,\" said Elfinhart, \"you do not dare!\"\r\nLightly she laughed, and scoffing tossed her head,\r\nYet spoke as one who knew not what she said,\r\nWith random words, and with quick-taken breath;\r\nThen turned again, ere that same look of death\r\nShould steal upon her and betray her heart\r\nDespite all stratagems of woman's art.\r\nAnd Gawayne heard but saw not; and the night\r\nDescended on him, and his face grew white\r\nWith grief and passion. When all else is lost,\r\nThe brave man gives life too, nor counts the cost.\r\n\"I dreamt,\" he murmured to himself, \"and dreaming\r\nI took for truth what was but sweetest seeming.\r\nMy waking eyes find naught in life to keep;\r\nI take the venture, and so back--to sleep.\"\r\n\r\nBy this, the stranger had at last become\r\nTired of long waiting, and of sitting dumb\r\nUpon his charger; so with greenest leer\r\nHe vented his impatience in a sneer.\r\n\"Is this,\" he said, \"the glorious Table Round,\r\nAnd is its glory naught but empty sound?\r\nBraggarts! I put your bluster to the test,\r\nAnd find you quail before a merry jest!\"\r\nThen the great king himself stood up in ire,\r\nWith clenched hand raised, and eyes that gleamed dark fire,\r\nAnd fronting the Green Knight he cried: \"Forbear!\r\nFor by my sword Excalibur I swear,\r\n\r\n\"Whate'er thou be, thou shalt not carry hence\r\nUnscathed the memory of thine insolence.\r\nSuch jests as thine please not; yet even so\r\nI take thine axe; kneel thou, and take my blow.\"\r\n\r\nAcross the Green Knight's features there was seen\r\nTo pass a fleeting shade of deeper green,\r\nWhether of disappointment or resentment\r\nNone knew; but straight a smile of bright contentment\r\nFollowed, as through the throng of dazed beholders\r\nHe saw Sir Gawayne thrust his sturdy shoulders.\r\nThe stranger winked at Elfinhart once more,\r\nWell pleased, and Gawayne knelt down on the floor.\r\n\"A boon,\" he cried, \"a boon, my lord and king!\r\nIf ever yet in any little thing\r\nThese hands have served thee, hear my last request:\r\nLet _me_ adventure this mad monster's jest!\"\r\nKing Arthur shook his head in dumb denial,\r\nLoth to withdraw his own hand from the trial,\r\nAnd leave the vengeance that himself had vowed;\r\nBut all the people called to him aloud,\r\n\"Sir Gawayne! let Sir Gawayne strike the blow!\"\r\nAnd Guinevere, the queen, besought him low\r\nTo leave this venture to the lesser man.\r\nHe yielded, and the merry jest began.\r\n\r\nThe visitor, dismounting, made a bow\r\nTo Arthur, then to all the court. \"And now,\"\r\nSaid he to Gawayne, \"wheresoe'er you choose\r\nTo strike your blow, strike on; I'll not refuse;\r\nHead, shoulders, chest, or waist, I little reck;\r\nWhere shall it be?\" Quoth Gawayne, \"In the neck!\"\r\n\r\nSo Gawayne took the axe. The stranger knelt\r\nBefore him on the hearth and loosed his belt,\r\nAnd threw back his green cassock and his hood,\r\nTo give his foe the fairest mark he could.\r\nThen thus to Gawayne: \"Ready! But remember\r\nTo come the twenty-fifth of next December,\r\nAnd take from me the self-same stroke again!\"\r\n\"And where,\" asked Gawayne, \"may I find you then?\"\r\n\"We'll speak of that, please, when you've struck your blow;\r\nFor if I can't speak, then you need not go!\"\r\nHe chuckled softly to himself; then turned\r\nAnd waited for the blow, all unconcerned.\r\n\r\nNot so the knights and ladies of the court;\r\nThey pushed and craned their necks to see the sport;\r\nNot from the lust of blood, for few expected\r\nTo see blood shed, or the Green Knight dissected,\r\nBut knowing that some marvel was in store\r\nUnparalleled in all Arthurian lore,\r\nAnd fairly filled with wide-eyed wonderment.\r\nBut Lady Elfinhart stayed not. She went\r\nInto the alcove where we saw her first\r\nAnd laid her sweet face in her arms, and burst\r\nInto--but none could tell, unless by peeping,\r\nWhether she shook with laughter or with weeping.\r\n\r\nAnd Gawayne rubbed his arms, his chest he beat,\r\nThen grasped the battle-axe and braced his feet,\r\nAnd swung the ponderous weapon high in air,\r\nAnd brought it down like lightning, fair and square\r\nUpon the stranger's neck. The axe flashed through,\r\nCutting the Green Knight cleanly right in two,\r\nAnd split the hard stone floor like kindling wood.\r\nThe head dropped off; out gushed the thick, hot blood\r\nLike--I can't find the simile I want,\r\nBut let us say a flood of _cr\u00eame de menthe_!\r\nAnd then the warriors standing round about\r\nSent up from fifty throats a mighty shout,\r\nAs when o'er blood-sprent fields the long cheers roll\r\nCacophonous, for him who kicks a goal.\r\n\r\n\"O Gawayne! Well done, Gawayne!\" they all cried;\r\nBut straight the tumult and the shouting died,\r\nAnd deadly pallor overspread each face,\r\nFor the knight's body stood up in its place\r\nAnd stepping nimbly forward seized the head\r\nThat lay still on the hearth-stone, seeming dead;\r\nThen vaulted lightly, with a careless air,\r\nBack to the saddle of his grass-green mare.\r\nHe held the head up, and behold! it spoke.\r\n\"My best congratulations on that stroke,\r\nSir Gawayne; it was delicately done!\r\nOur merry little jest is well begun,\r\nBut look you fail me not this day next year!\r\nAt the Green Chapel by the Murmuring Mere\r\nI will await you when the sun sinks low,\r\nAnd pay you back full measure, blow for blow!\"\r\nHe wheeled about, the doors flew wide once more,\r\nThe mare's hoofs struck green sparkles from the floor,\r\nAnd with a whirring flash of emerald light\r\nBoth horse and rider vanished in the night.\r\n\r\nThen all the lords and ladies rubbed their eyes\r\nAnd slowly roused themselves from dumb surprise.\r\nThe great hall echoed once more with the clatter\r\nOf laughing men's and frightened women's chatter;\r\nBut Gawayne, with the axe in hand, stood still,\r\nHeedless of what was passing, with no will\r\nFor life or death, for all that made life dear\r\nWas fled like summer when the leaves fall sere.\r\nAnd Arthur spoke, misreading Gawayne's thought:\r\n\"Heaven send we have not all too dearly bought\r\nOur evening's pastime, Gawayne. You have done\r\nAs fits a fearless knight, and nobly won\r\nOur thanks in equal measure with our praise.\r\nBe both remembered in the after days!\"\r\n\r\nSo spoke the king, and, to confirm his word,\r\nFrom far away in the deep night was heard\r\nOnce more the fairy horn-call, clear and shrill;\r\nIt died upon the wind, and all was still.\r\nThe hour was late. King Arthur, rising, said\r\nGood-night to all his court, and went to bed.","rendered":"King Arthur and his court were blithe and gay<\/p>\n
![\"Worn](\"https:\/\/s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com\/courses-images-archive-read-only\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/670\/2015\/06\/22205013\/341px-Arth_tapestry2.jpg\")
<\/a> King Arthur as one of the Nine Worthies, detail from the \"Christian Heroes Tapestry\" dated c. 1385. \"Arthur among the Nine Worthies is always identified by three crowns, which signify regality, on his standard, his shield, or his robe.\" -- Geoffrey Ashe, The Quest for Arthur's Britain [Praeger, 1969][\/caption]In high-towered Camelot, on Christmas day,\r\nFor all the Table Round were back again,\r\nAt peace with God and with their fellow-men.\r\nTheir shields hung idly on the pictured wall;\r\nTheir blood-stained banners decked the festal hall\r\nLight footsteps, rustling on the rush-strewn floors,\r\nAnd laughter, rippling down long corridors,\r\nAttested minds at ease and hearts at play,--\r\nRude Mars unharnessed for love's holiday.\r\nIn the great hall the Christmas feast was done.\r\nThe level sunbeams from the setting sun\r\nStretched through the mullioned casements to the wall,\r\nAnd wove fantastic shadows over all.\r\nThe revelry was hushed. In tranquil ease\r\nThe warriors grouped themselves by twos and threes\r\nAbout the dames and damsels of the court,\r\nAnd chattered careless words of small import;\r\nBut in an alcove, unobserved, apart,\r\nYoung Gawayne sat with Lady Elfinhart,\r\nIn Arthur's court no goodlier knight than he\r\nWore shirt of mail, or Cupid's panoply;\r\nAnd Elfinhart, to Gawayne's eager eyes.\r\nOf all heaven's treasures seemed the goodliest prize.\r\nNow daylight faded, and the twilight gloom\r\nDeepened the stillness in the vaulted room,\r\nSave where upon the hearth a fitful glow\r\nBlushed from the embers as the fire burned low.\r\nThere is a certain subtle twilight mood,\r\nWhen two hearts meet in a dim solitude,\r\nThat thrills the soul e'en to the finger-tips,\r\nAnd brings the heart's dear secrets to the lips.\r\nIn Gawayne's corner, as the shades grew thicker,\r\nFour eyes waxed brighter, and two pulses quicker;\r\nTen minutes more of quiet talk unbroken,\r\nAnd heaven alone can tell what might be spoken!\r\nBut it was not to be, for fates unequal\r\nCompelled--but this anticipates the sequel.\r\nJust in the nick of time, King Arthur rose\r\nFrom his sedate post-prandial repose,\r\nAnd called for lights. Along the shadowy aisles\r\nHis pages' footsteps pattered o'er the tiles,\r\nSpeeding to do his errand, and at once\r\nFour tapers flickered from each silver sconce.\r\nThe scene was changed, the dreamer's dream dispelled,\r\nAnd what might else have been his fate withheld\r\nFrom Gawayne's grasp. So may one touch of chance\r\nShatter the fragile fabric of romance,\r\nAnd all the heart's desire,--the joy, the trouble,--\r\nFlash to oblivion with the bursting bubble!\r\n\r\nBut Arthur, on his kingly dais-seat,\r\nFelt nothing of the passion and the heat\r\nThat fire young blood. He raised his warlike head\r\nAnd glancing moodily around him, said:\r\n\"So have ye feasted well, my knights, this day,\r\nAnd filled your hearts with revel and with play.\r\nBut to my mind that day is basely spent\r\nWhich passes by without accomplishment\r\nOf some bright deed of arms or chivalry.\r\nWe rust in indolence. As well not be,\r\nAs be the minions of an idle court\r\nWhere all is gallantry and girlish sport!\r\nSome bold adventure let our thoughts devise,\r\nTo stir our courage and to cheer our eyes.\"\r\nAnd lo! while yet he spoke, from far away\r\nIn the thick shroud of the departed day,\r\nUpon the frosty air of evening borne,\r\nCame the faint challenge of a fairy horn!\r\n\r\nKing Arthur started up in mild surprise,\r\nWhile knights and dames looked round with questioning eyes,\r\nAnd each to other spoke some hurried word,\r\nAs, \"Did you hear it?\"--\"What was that I heard?\"\r\nBut well they knew; for you must understand\r\nThat Camelot lay close to Fairyland,\r\nAnd the wild blast of fairy horns, once known,\r\nIs straightway recognized as soon as blown,\r\nBeing a sound unique, unearthly, shrill,--\r\nBetween a screech-owl and a whip-poor-will.\r\nThe mischief is, that no one e'er can tell\r\nWhether such heralding bodes ill or well!\r\n\r\nThe ladies of the palace looked faint fear,\r\nDreading some perilous adventure near;\r\nFor peril can the bravest spirits move,\r\nWhen threatening not ourselves, but those we love;\r\nBut Lady Elfinhart clapped hands in glee,--\r\nIn sooth, no sentimentalist seemed she,--\r\nAnd cried: \"Now, brave Sir Gawayne,--O what fun!\r\nSuccor us, save us, else we are undone;\r\nShow us the prowess of your arm this night;\r\nI never saw a tilt by candle-light!\"\r\nGaily she spoke, and seemed all unconcerned;\r\nAnd yet a curious watcher might have learned\r\nFrom a slight quaver in her laughter free\r\nTo doubt the frankness of her flippancy.\r\nGawayne, bewildered, looked the other way,\r\nAnd wondered what she meant; for in that day\r\nThe ready wit of man was under muzzle,\r\nAnd woman's heart was still an unsolved puzzle;\r\nAnd Gawayne, though in valor next to none,\r\nWished that _her_ heart had been a tenderer one.\r\nHis sword was out for any foe on earth,\r\nAnd yet to face death for a lady's mirth\r\nSeemed scarce worth while. What honor bade, he'ld do,\r\nBut would have liked to see a tear or two.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_96\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"217\"]![\"Painting](\"https:\/\/s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com\/courses-images-archive-read-only\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/670\/2015\/06\/22205014\/Leighton-God_Speed.jpg\")
<\/a> God Speed is a painting by British artist Edmund Leighton, depicting an armored knight departing to war and leaving his beloved. The woman ties a red sash around the knight's arm, which he is meant to return, a medieval custom which assured both parties that they would be reunited, alive and well. A griffin on the banister of the stairs is a symbol of strength and military courage.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nWhile thus he pondered, came a sudden burst\r\nOf high-pitched fairy horn-calls, like the first,\r\nBut nearer, clearer, deadlier than before,\r\nBlown seemingly from just outside the door.\r\nThe casements shook, the taper lights all trembled;\r\nThe bravest knight's dismay was ill-dissembled;\r\nAnd as all sprang with one accord to win\r\nTheir swords and shields, stern combat to begin,\r\nThe great doors shot their bolts, and opened slowly in.\r\n\r\nAnd now my laboring muse is hard beset,\r\nFor something followed such as never yet\r\nWas writ or sung, by human voice or hand,\r\nSave those that tell old tales from Fairyland.\r\n\"Miracles _do_ not happen:\"--'t is plain sense,\r\nIf you italicize the present tense;\r\nBut in those days, as rare old Chaucer tells,\r\nAll Britain was fulfilled of miracles.\r\nSo, as I said, the great doors opened wide.\r\nIn rushed a blast of winter from outside,\r\nAnd with it, galloping on the empty air,\r\nA great green giant on a great green mare\r\nPlunged like a tempest-cleaving thunderbolt,\r\nAnd struck four-footed, with an earthquake's jolt,\r\nPlump on the hearthstone. There the uncouth wight\r\nSat greenly laughing at the strange affright\r\nThat paled all cheeks and opened wide all eyes;\r\nTill after the first shock of quick surprise\r\nThe people circled round him, still in awe,\r\nAnd circling stared; and this is what they saw:\r\nCassock and hood and hose, of plushy sheen\r\nLike close-cut grass upon a bowling-green,\r\nCovered his stature, from his verdant toes\r\nTo the green brows that topped his emerald nose.\r\nHis beard was glossy, like unripened corn;\r\nHis eyes shot sparklets like the polar morn.\r\nBut like in hue unto that deep-sea green\r\nWherewith must shine those gems of ray serene\r\nThe dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear.\r\nGreen was his raiment, green his monstrous mare.\r\nHe rode unarmed, uncorsleted, unshielded,\r\nExcept that in his huge right hand he wielded\r\nA frightful battle-axe, with blade as green\r\nAs coppery rust;--but the long edge shone keen.\r\n\r\nSuch was the stranger, and he turned his head\r\nFrom one side to the other, and then said,\r\nWith gentle voice, most like a summer breeze\r\nThat rustles through the leaves of the green trees:\r\n\"So this is Arthur's court! My noble lord,\r\nYou said just now you felt a trifle bored,\r\nAnd wished, instead of dancing, feasting, flirting,\r\nYour gallant warriors might be exerting\r\nTheir puissance upon some worthier thing.\r\nThe wish, my lord, was worthy of a king!\r\nIt pleased me; here I am; and I intend\r\nTo serve your fancy as a faithful friend.\r\nI bring adventure,--no hard, tedious quest,\r\nBut merely what I call a merry jest.\r\nLet some good knight, the doughtiest of you all,\r\nSwing this my battle-axe, and let it fall\r\nOn whatsoever part of me he will;\r\nI will abide the blow, and hold me still;\r\nBut let him, just a twelvemonth from this day,\r\nCome to me, if by any means he may,\r\nAnd let me, if I live, pay back my best,\r\nAs he pays me. What think you of the jest?\"\r\nHe said; and made a courteous bow,--the while\r\nLighting his features with a bright green smile;\r\nAs when June breezes, after rain-clouds pass,\r\nRipple in sunlight o'er the unmown grass.\r\n\r\nThe jest seemed fair indeed; but none the less\r\nNo knight showed any undue forwardness\r\nTo seize the offer. Some with laughter free\r\nDaffed it aside; while others carelessly\r\nStrolled to the farthest corners of the hall\r\nAs if they had not heard his words at all,\r\nAnd whistled with an air of idle ease,\r\nOr studied figures in the tapestries.\r\nNot so Sir Gawayne. Vexed in mind he stood\r\nWith downcast eyes, and knew not what he would.\r\nTrained in the school of chivalry to prize\r\nHis honor as the light of his dear eyes,\r\nHe held his life, his fortunes, everything,\r\nIn sacred trust for knighthood and his king,\r\nAnd in the battle-field or tilting-yard\r\nHe met his foe full-fronted, and struck hard.\r\nBut now it seemed a foolish thing to throw\r\nOne's whole life to the fortune of a blow.\r\nTrue valor breathes not in the braggart vaunt;\r\nTrue honor takes no shame from idle taunt;\r\nSo let this wizard, if he wants to, scoff;\r\nWhy should our hero have his head cut off?\r\n\r\nWhile thus Sir Gawayne, wrapped in thought intense,\r\nDebated honor versus common sense,\r\nThe stranger knight was casting his green glance\r\nAround the circling throng,--until by chance\r\nHe met the eyes of Lady Elfinhart,\r\nAnd--did she flush?--and did the Green Knight start?\r\nSurely a quiver twinkled in each eye;\r\nBut what of that? It need not signify:\r\nBeneath his glance a brave man well might flush;\r\nWhat wonder then that a fair maid should blush?\r\nAnd as for him, no man that ever loved\r\nCould look upon her loveliness unmoved.\r\n\r\nCould I but picture her--ah, you would deem\r\nMy tale the figment of a poet's dream;\r\nAnd if you saw her, (could such bliss be given),\r\nYou'ld think _yourself_ in dreamland--or in heaven.\r\nNot the red rapture of new-wakened roses,\r\nWhen morning dew their soul of love uncloses,\r\n(Roses that must be wooed,--nor may be won\r\nSave by the prince of lovers, the warm sun),\r\nNot the fair lily, nor the violet shy,\r\nWhose heart's love lurks deep in her still blue eye,\r\nNor any flower, the loveliest and the best,\r\nCan image to you half the charm compressed\r\nIn those dear eyes, those lips,--nay, every part\r\nThat made that sum of witcheries--Elfinhart.\r\n\r\nHer face was a dim dream of shadowy light,\r\nLike misty moonbeams on the fields of night,\r\nAnd in her voice sweet nature's sweetest tunes\r\nSang the glad song of twenty cloudless Junes.\r\nHer raiment,--nay; go, reader, if you please,\r\nTo some sage Treatise on Antiquities,\r\nWhence writers of historical romances\r\nCull old embroideries for their new-spun fancies;\r\nI care not for the trivial, nor the fleeting.\r\nBeneath her dress a woman's heart was beating\r\nThe rhythm of love's eternal eloquence,\r\nAnd I confess to you, in confidence,\r\nThough flowers have grown a thousand years above her,\r\nUnseen, unknown, with all my soul I love her.\r\n\r\nFrom these digressions upon love and glory,\r\n'Tis time we were returning to our story.\r\nI only meant, in a few words, to tell you\r\n(For fear my heroine's conduct should repel you)\r\nThat if she jests, for instance, out of season,\r\nPerhaps there is a good substantial reason.\r\nSir Gawayne, had he seen the stranger wink\r\nAnd seen the lady blushing, you may think\r\nMight have been spared a most unhappy lot.\r\nPerhaps you're right;--but peradventure not.\r\nI give you but a hint, for half the art\r\nOf narrative is holding back a part,\r\nAnd if without reserve I gave my best\r\nIn the first canto, who would read the rest?\r\n\r\nBut now Sir Gawayne, with a troubled eye,![\"Photo](\"https:\/\/s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com\/courses-images-archive-read-only\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/670\/2015\/06\/22205017\/sculpture-227249_1280.jpg\")
<\/a>\r\nLooked up, and saw his lady standing by.\r\nQuoth he: \"And if this conjurer unblest\r\nWin no acceptance of his bitter jest,\r\nHow then in after days shall Arthur's court\r\nConfront the calumny and foul report\r\nOf idle tongues?\" The wrath in Gawayne's eyes\r\nHashed for an instant; then in humbler wise\r\nHe spoke on: \"Yet God grant I be not blind\r\nWhere honor lights the way; for to my mind\r\nTrue honor bids us shun the devil's den,\r\nTo fight God's battles in the world of men.\r\nWho takes this challenge up, I doubt will rue it.\"\r\nQuoth Elfinhart: \"I'ld like to see you do it!\"\r\nShe laughed a gay laugh, but by hard constraint:\r\nThen turned and hid her face, all pale and faint,\r\nAs one might be who stabs and turns the knife\r\nIn the warm heart of one more dear than life.\r\nShe turned and Gawayne saw not; but he heard,\r\nAnd felt his heart-strings tighten at her word.\r\n\"Nay, lady, if you wish it I will try;\r\nBe your least wish my will, although I die!\r\nYet one thing, if I may, I fain would ask,\r\nBefore I make the venture;--if this task\r\nProve fateful as it threatens,--do you care?\"\r\n\"Perhaps,\" said Elfinhart, \"you do not dare!\"\r\nLightly she laughed, and scoffing tossed her head,\r\nYet spoke as one who knew not what she said,\r\nWith random words, and with quick-taken breath;\r\nThen turned again, ere that same look of death\r\nShould steal upon her and betray her heart\r\nDespite all stratagems of woman's art.\r\nAnd Gawayne heard but saw not; and the night\r\nDescended on him, and his face grew white\r\nWith grief and passion. When all else is lost,\r\nThe brave man gives life too, nor counts the cost.\r\n\"I dreamt,\" he murmured to himself, \"and dreaming\r\nI took for truth what was but sweetest seeming.\r\nMy waking eyes find naught in life to keep;\r\nI take the venture, and so back--to sleep.\"\r\n\r\nBy this, the stranger had at last become\r\nTired of long waiting, and of sitting dumb\r\nUpon his charger; so with greenest leer\r\nHe vented his impatience in a sneer.\r\n\"Is this,\" he said, \"the glorious Table Round,\r\nAnd is its glory naught but empty sound?\r\nBraggarts! I put your bluster to the test,\r\nAnd find you quail before a merry jest!\"\r\nThen the great king himself stood up in ire,\r\nWith clenched hand raised, and eyes that gleamed dark fire,\r\nAnd fronting the Green Knight he cried: \"Forbear!\r\nFor by my sword Excalibur I swear,\r\n\r\n\"Whate'er thou be, thou shalt not carry hence\r\nUnscathed the memory of thine insolence.\r\nSuch jests as thine please not; yet even so\r\nI take thine axe; kneel thou, and take my blow.\"\r\n\r\nAcross the Green Knight's features there was seen\r\nTo pass a fleeting shade of deeper green,\r\nWhether of disappointment or resentment\r\nNone knew; but straight a smile of bright contentment\r\nFollowed, as through the throng of dazed beholders\r\nHe saw Sir Gawayne thrust his sturdy shoulders.\r\nThe stranger winked at Elfinhart once more,\r\nWell pleased, and Gawayne knelt down on the floor.\r\n\"A boon,\" he cried, \"a boon, my lord and king!\r\nIf ever yet in any little thing\r\nThese hands have served thee, hear my last request:\r\nLet _me_ adventure this mad monster's jest!\"\r\nKing Arthur shook his head in dumb denial,\r\nLoth to withdraw his own hand from the trial,\r\nAnd leave the vengeance that himself had vowed;\r\nBut all the people called to him aloud,\r\n\"Sir Gawayne! let Sir Gawayne strike the blow!\"\r\nAnd Guinevere, the queen, besought him low\r\nTo leave this venture to the lesser man.\r\nHe yielded, and the merry jest began.\r\n\r\nThe visitor, dismounting, made a bow\r\nTo Arthur, then to all the court. \"And now,\"\r\nSaid he to Gawayne, \"wheresoe'er you choose\r\nTo strike your blow, strike on; I'll not refuse;\r\nHead, shoulders, chest, or waist, I little reck;\r\nWhere shall it be?\" Quoth Gawayne, \"In the neck!\"\r\n\r\nSo Gawayne took the axe. The stranger knelt\r\nBefore him on the hearth and loosed his belt,\r\nAnd threw back his green cassock and his hood,\r\nTo give his foe the fairest mark he could.\r\nThen thus to Gawayne: \"Ready! But remember\r\nTo come the twenty-fifth of next December,\r\nAnd take from me the self-same stroke again!\"\r\n\"And where,\" asked Gawayne, \"may I find you then?\"\r\n\"We'll speak of that, please, when you've struck your blow;\r\nFor if I can't speak, then you need not go!\"\r\nHe chuckled softly to himself; then turned\r\nAnd waited for the blow, all unconcerned.\r\n\r\nNot so the knights and ladies of the court;\r\nThey pushed and craned their necks to see the sport;\r\nNot from the lust of blood, for few expected\r\nTo see blood shed, or the Green Knight dissected,\r\nBut knowing that some marvel was in store\r\nUnparalleled in all Arthurian lore,\r\nAnd fairly filled with wide-eyed wonderment.\r\nBut Lady Elfinhart stayed not. She went\r\nInto the alcove where we saw her first\r\nAnd laid her sweet face in her arms, and burst\r\nInto--but none could tell, unless by peeping,\r\nWhether she shook with laughter or with weeping.\r\n\r\nAnd Gawayne rubbed his arms, his chest he beat,\r\nThen grasped the battle-axe and braced his feet,\r\nAnd swung the ponderous weapon high in air,\r\nAnd brought it down like lightning, fair and square\r\nUpon the stranger's neck. The axe flashed through,\r\nCutting the Green Knight cleanly right in two,\r\nAnd split the hard stone floor like kindling wood.\r\nThe head dropped off; out gushed the thick, hot blood\r\nLike--I can't find the simile I want,\r\nBut let us say a flood of _cr\u00eame de menthe_!\r\nAnd then the warriors standing round about\r\nSent up from fifty throats a mighty shout,\r\nAs when o'er blood-sprent fields the long cheers roll\r\nCacophonous, for him who kicks a goal.\r\n\r\n\"O Gawayne! Well done, Gawayne!\" they all cried;\r\nBut straight the tumult and the shouting died,\r\nAnd deadly pallor overspread each face,\r\nFor the knight's body stood up in its place\r\nAnd stepping nimbly forward seized the head\r\nThat lay still on the hearth-stone, seeming dead;\r\nThen vaulted lightly, with a careless air,\r\nBack to the saddle of his grass-green mare.\r\nHe held the head up, and behold! it spoke.\r\n\"My best congratulations on that stroke,\r\nSir Gawayne; it was delicately done!\r\nOur merry little jest is well begun,\r\nBut look you fail me not this day next year!\r\nAt the Green Chapel by the Murmuring Mere\r\nI will await you when the sun sinks low,\r\nAnd pay you back full measure, blow for blow!\"\r\nHe wheeled about, the doors flew wide once more,\r\nThe mare's hoofs struck green sparkles from the floor,\r\nAnd with a whirring flash of emerald light\r\nBoth horse and rider vanished in the night.\r\n\r\nThen all the lords and ladies rubbed their eyes\r\nAnd slowly roused themselves from dumb surprise.\r\nThe great hall echoed once more with the clatter\r\nOf laughing men's and frightened women's chatter;\r\nBut Gawayne, with the axe in hand, stood still,\r\nHeedless of what was passing, with no will\r\nFor life or death, for all that made life dear\r\nWas fled like summer when the leaves fall sere.\r\nAnd Arthur spoke, misreading Gawayne's thought:\r\n\"Heaven send we have not all too dearly bought\r\nOur evening's pastime, Gawayne. You have done\r\nAs fits a fearless knight, and nobly won\r\nOur thanks in equal measure with our praise.\r\nBe both remembered in the after days!\"\r\n\r\nSo spoke the king, and, to confirm his word,\r\nFrom far away in the deep night was heard\r\nOnce more the fairy horn-call, clear and shrill;\r\nIt died upon the wind, and all was still.\r\nThe hour was late. King Arthur, rising, said\r\nGood-night to all his court, and went to bed.","rendered":"