XXXVI
Ort, as Sir Palamedes went
Upon the quest, he was aware
Of some vast shadow subtly blent
With his own shadow in the air.
It had no shape, no voice had it
Wherewith to daunt the eye or ear;
Yet all the horror of the pit
Clad it with all the arms of fear.
Moreover, though he sought to scan
Some feature, though he listened long,
No shape of God or fiend or man,
No whisper, groan, shriek, scream, or song
Gave him to know it. Now it chanced
One day Sir Palamedes rode
Through a great wood whose leafage danced
In the thin sunlight as it flowed
From heaven. He halted in a glade,
Bade his horse crop the tender grass;
Put off his armour, softly laid
Himself to sleep till noon should pass.
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