18
VI
S1r PaLaMepE the Saracen
The earth from murder hath released,
Is hidden from the eyes of men.
Sir Arthur sits again at feast.
The holy order burns with zeal :
Its fame revives from west to east.
Now, following Fortune’s whirling wheel,
There comes a dwarf to Arthur's hall,
All cased in damascenéd steel.
A sceptre and a golden ball
He bears, and on his head a crown ;
But on his shoulders drapes a pall
Of velvet flowing sably down
Above his vest of cramoisie.
Now doth the king of high renown
Demand him of his dignity.
Whereat the dwarf begins to tell
A quest of loftiest chivalry.