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… sleep or was it waking? “ By God, I care not, I!” (quod he). “Or wake or sleep, or live or dead, I will pursue this mystery. So help me Grace of Godlihead!” Ay! with thy wasted limbs pursue That subtle Beast home to his den! Who knows but thou mayst win athrough, Sir Palamede the Saracen?
… hand, Wherefrom she draweth dismal groans The while her maddening saraband She plies, and with discordant tones Desires a certain devil-grace. She gathers wreckage-wood, and bones Of seamen, jetsam of the place, And builds therewith a fire, wherein She dances, bounding into space Like an inflated ass’s skin. She raves, and reels, and yells, and whirls So that the tears of toil begin To dew her breasts with ardent pearls. Nor doth she mitigate her dance , The bagpipe ever louder skirls,
…teed; Above the lordly silk there streams The pennon of Sir Palamede! Aflame, a bridegroom to his spouse, He rides to meet with galliard grace Some scion of his holy house, Or germane to his royal race.
…rough the domes of death, Through all the mighty realms of men And spirits breathed the Beauteous Breath : They taste the Goodly Gift of Grace. —Now ’tis the chronicler that saith: Our Saviour grant in little space That also I, even I, be blest Thus, though so evil is my case— Let them that read my rime attest The same sweet unction in my pen— That writes in pure blood of my breast; For that I figure unto men The story of my proper quest As thine, first Eastern in the West, Sir Palamede the Saracen ! 113
…it, then, the quest ” (he saith) “Ts not—at last |!—achieved and ended? Why taste I not the Bounteous Breath, Receive the Goodly Gift of Grace? Now, kind king-eagle (by God’s death !), Restore me to mine ancient place! I am advantaged nothing then!” Then swooped he from the Byss of Space, And set the knight amid the fen. “God!” quoth Sir Palamede, “that I Who have won nine should fail at ten! I set my all upon the die: There is no further trick to try. Call thrice accurséd above men Sir Palamede the Saracen!”
…n—and on— And on—with heart and eyes of stone. The deep-scarred brain of him is healed With wind and sea and star and sun, The assoiling grace that God revealed For gree and bounteous benison. Ah! still he trusts the recreant brain, Thrown in a thousand tourney-justs ; Still he raves on in reason-strain With senseless “oughts” and fatuous “ musts.” “ All the delusions ” (argueth The ass), “all uproars, surely rise From that curst Me whose name is Death, Whereas the Questing Beast belies 67
…n his quest ; for (as one saith) The unknown may lurk within the vile. So he who sought the Beauteous Breath, Desired the Goodly Gift of Grace, Went equal into life and death, But oh! the foulness of his face! Not here was anything of worth ; He turned his back upon the place, Sought the blue sky and the green earth, Ay! and the lustral sea to cleanse That filth that stank about his girth,
…II Sir Paramens is sick to death! The staring eyen, the haggard face! God grant to him the Beauteous Breath! God send the Goodly Gift of Grace! There is a white cave by the sea Wherein the knight is hid away. Just ere the night falls, spieth he The sun’s last shaft flicker astray. All day is dark. There, there he mourns His wasted years, his purpose faint. A million whips, a million scorns Make the knight flinch, and stain the saint. For now! what hath he left? He feeds On limpets and wild roots. What odds? There is no need a mortal needs Who h…
…crystal-cold Wherein he gazes, keen to view The vast Design therein, to chase The Beast to his last avenue. Then—O thou gosling scant of grace! The dream breaks, and Sir Palamede Wakes to the glass of his fool’s face! “ Ah, ’sdeath!” (quod he), “by thought and deed This brute for ever mocketh me. The lance is made a broken reed, The brain is but a barren tree— For all the beautiful Design Is but mine own geometry!” With that his wrath brake out like wine. He plunged his body in, and shattered The whole delusion asinine. All the false water-nymp…
…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
…ounds And by His lamentable death, And by His holy Mother’s face !) That he shall know the Beauteous Breath And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace Who shall achieve this marvel quest.” Then Arthur sterte up from his place, And sterte up boldly all the rest, And sware to seek this goodly thing. But now the dwarf doth beat his breast, And speak on this wise to the king, That he should worthy knight be found Who with his hands the dwarf should bring By might one span from off the ground. Whereat they jeer, the dwarf so small, The knights so strong: th…
…ilry ! Is there no medicine but death That shall avail me in my place, That I may know the Beauteous Breath And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace? Keep Thou yet firm this trembling leaf My soul, dear God Who died for men; Yea! for that sinner-soul the chief, Sir Palamede the Saracen!” 77
…e plucked. As a flower perisheth, So all sin died. And in that place All they did know the Beauteous Breath And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace. Then fell the night. Above the baying Of the great Beast, that was the bass To all the harps of Heaven a-playing, There came a solemn voice (not one But was upon his knees in praying And glorifying God). The Son Of God Himself—men thought—spoke then. “ Arise! brave soldier, thou hast won The quest not given to mortal men. Arise! Sir Palamede Adept, Christian, and no more Saracen ! On wake or sleeping, w…
…ock the Questing Beast I chase, The Questing Beast I love? ’Od’s wounds!” Then sudden from the slave there brake A cachinnation scant of grace, As if a thirty couple hounds Were in his belly! Knight, awake! Ah! well he woke! His love and scorn Grapple in death-throe at his throat. “Lead me away” (quoth he), “ my men! Woe, woe is me was ever born So blind a bat, so gross a goat, As Palamede the Saracen !” 87
… Time that took me in his toil. I keep my strength regained to chase The Beast that mocks me now as then Dear Christ! I pray Thee of Thy grace Take pity on the forlorn case Of Palamede the Saracen!”