Sir Palamedes

God save thee, woeful Palamede! The questing of the Beast is loud Within thy ear. By Goddes reed, Thou hast won the tilt from all the crowd ! Within thy proper bowels it sounds Mighty and musical at need, As if a thirty couple hounds Quested within thee, Palamede! Now, then, he grasps the desperate truth He hath toiled these many years to see, Hath wasted strength, hath wasted youth— He was the Beast; the Beast was he! He rises from the cave of death, Runs to the sea with shining face To know at last the Bounteous Breath, To taste the Goodly Gift of Grace. Ah! Palamede, thou hast mistook! Thou art the butt of all confusion! Not to be written in my book Is this most drastic disillusion! So weak and ill was he, I doubt If he might hear the royal feast Of laughter that came rolling out Afar from that elusive Beast. G 97