A TALE

PART I.

  “And how canst thou in tourneys shine,
    Or tread the glittering festal floor? 
  On chains of gold and cloth of pile,
  The looks of high-born Beauty smile;
  Nor peerless deeds, nor stainless line,
    Can lift to fame the Poor!”

  His Mother spoke; and Elvar sigh’d ­
    The sigh alone confess’d the truth;
  He curb’d the thoughts that gall’d the breast ­
  High thoughts ill suit the russet vest;
  Yet Arthur’s Court, in all its pride,
    Ne’er saw so fair a youth.

  Far, to the forest’s stillest shade,
    Sir Elvar took his lonely way;
  Beneath an oak, whose gentle frown
  Dimm’d noon’s bright eyes, he laid him down
  And watch’d a Fount that through the glade,
    Sang, sparkling up to day.

  “As sunlight to the forest tree” ­
    ’Twas thus his murmur’d musings ran ­
  “And as amidst the sunlight’s glow,
  The freshness of the fountain’s flow ­
  So ­(ah, they never mine may be!) ­
    Are Gold and Love to Man.”

  And while he spoke, a gentle air
    Seem’d stirring through the crystal tides;
  A gleam, at first both dim and bright,
  Trembled to shape, in limbs of light,
  Gilded to sunbeams by the hair
    That glances where IT glides;

  Till, clear and clearer, upward borne,
    The Fairy of the Fountain rose: 
  The halo quivering round her, grew
  More steadfast as the shape shone through ­
  O sure, a second, softer Morn
    The Elder Daylight knows!

  Born from the blue of those deep eyes,
    Such love its happy self betray’d
  As only haunts that tender race,
  With flower or fount, their dwelling-place ­
  The darling of the earth and skies
    She rose ­that Fairy Maid!

  “Listen!” she said, and wave and land
    Sigh’d back her murmur, murmurously ­
  “A love more true than minstrel sings,
  A wealth that mocks the pomp of kings,
  To him who wins the Fairy’s hand
    A Fairy’s dower shall be.

  “But not to those can we belong
    Whose sense the charms of earth allure? 
  If human love hath yet been thine,
    Farewell, ­our laws forbid thee mine. 
  The Children of the Star and Song,
    We may but bless the Pure!”

  “Dream ­lovelier far than e’er, I ween,
    Entranced the glorious Merlin’s eyes ­
  Through childhood, to this happiest hour,
  All free from human Beauty’s power,
  My heart unresting still hath been
    A prophet in its sighs.

  “Though never living shape hath brought
    Sweet love, that second life, to me,
  Yet over earth, and through the heaven,
  The thoughts that pined for love were driven: ­
  I see thee ­and I feel I sought
    Through Earth and Heaven for thee!”

PART II.

  Ask not the Bard to lift the veil
    That hides the Fairy’s bridal bower;
  If thou art young, go seek the glade,
  And win thyself some fairy maid;
  And rosy lips shall tell the tale
    In some enchanted hour.

  “Farewell!” as by the greenwood tree,
    The Fairy clasp’d the Mortal’s hand ­
  “Our laws forbid thee to delay ­
  Not ours the life of every day! ­
  And Man, alas! may rarely be
    The Guest of Fairy-land.

  “Back to thy Prince’s halls depart,
    The stateliest of his stately train: 
  Henceforth thy wish shall be thy mine ­
  Each toy that gold can purchase, thine ­
  A fairy’s coffers are the heart
    A mortal cannot drain.”

  “Talk not of wealth ­that dream is o’er! ­
    These sunny looks be all my gold!”
  “Nay! if in courts thy thoughts can stray
  Along the fairy-forest way,
  Wish but to see thy bride once more ­
    Thy bride thou shalt behold.

  “Yet hear the law on which must rest
    Thy union with thine elfin bride;
  If ever by a word ­a tone ­
  Thou mak’st our tender secret known,
  The spell will vanish from thy breast ­
    The Fairy from thy side.

  “If thou but boast to mortal ear
    The meanest charm thou find’st in me,
  If” ­here his lips the sweet lips seal,
  Low-murmuring, “Love can ne’er reveal ­
  It cannot breathe to mortal ear
    The charms it finds in thee!”

PART III.

  High joust, by Carduel’s ancient town,
    The Kingly Arthur holds to-day;
  Around their Queen; in glittering row,
  The Starry Hosts of Beauty glow. 
  Smile down, ye stars, on his renown
    Who bears the wreath away!

  O chiefs who gird the Table Round ­
    O war-gems of that wondrous ring! ­
  Where lives the man to match the might
  That lifts to song your meanest knight,
  Who sees, preside on Glory’s ground,
    His Lady and his King?

  What prince as from some throne afar,
    Shines onward ­shining up the throng? 
  Broider’d with pearls, his mantle’s fold
  Flows o’er the mail emboss’d with gold;
  As rides, from cloud to cloud, a star,
    The Bright One rode along!

  Twice fifty stalwart Squires, in air
    The stranger’s knightly pennon bore;
  Twice fifty Pages, pacing slow,
  Scatter his largess as they go;
  Calm through the crowd he pass’d, and, there,
    Rein’d in the Lists before.

  Light question in those elder days
    The heralds made of birth and name. 
  Enough to wear the spurs of gold,
  To share the pastime of the bold. 
  “Forwards!” their wands the Heralds raise,
    And in the Lists he came.

  Now rouse thee, rouse thee, bold Gawaine! 
    Think of thy Lady’s eyes above;
  Now rouse thee for thy Queen’s sweet sake,
  Thou peerless Lancelot of the Lake! 
  Vain Gawaine’s might, and Lancelot’s vain! ­
    They know no Fairy’s love.

  Before him swells the joyous tromp,
    He comes ­the victor’s wreath is won! 
  Low to his Queen Sir Elvar kneels,
  The helm no more his face conceals;
  And one pale form amidst the pomp,
    Sobs forth ­“My gallant son!”

PART IV.

  Sir Elvar is the fairest knight
    That ever lured a lady’s glance;
  Sir Elvar is the wealthiest lord
  That sits at good King Arthur’s board;
  The bravest in the joust or fight,
    The lightest in the dance.

  And never love, methinks, so blest
    As his, this weary world has known;
  For, every night before his eyes,
  The charms that ne’er can fade arise ­
  A star unseen by all the rest ­
    A Life for him alone.

  And yet Sir Elvar is not blest ­
    He walks apart with brows of gloom ­
  “The meanest knight in Arthur’s hall
  His lady-love may tell to all;
  He shows the flower that glads his breast ­
    His pride to boast its bloom!

  “And I who clasp the fairest form
    That e’er to man’s embrace was given,
  Must hide the gift as if in shame! 
  What boots a prize we dare not name? 
  The sun must shine if it would warm ­
    A cloud is all my heaven!”

  Much proud Genevra marvell’d, how
    A knight so fair should seem so cold;
  What if a love for hope too high,
  Has chain’d the lip and awed the eye? 
  A second joust ­and surely now
    The secret shall be told.

  For, there, alone shall ride the brave
    Whose glory dwells in Beauty’s fame;
  Each, for his lady’s honour, arms ­
  His lance the test of rival charms. 
  Joy unto him whom Beauty gave
    The right to gild her name!

  Sir Lancelot burns to win the prize ­
    First in the Lists his shield is seen;
  A sunflower for device he took ­
  “Where’er thou shinest turns my look.”
  So as he paced the Lists, his eyes
    Still sought the Sun ­his Queen!

  “And why, Sir Elvar, loiterest thou? ­
    Lives there no fair thy lance to claim?”
  No answer Elvar made the King;
  Sullen he stood without the ring. 
  “Forwards!” An armed whirlwind now
    On horse and horseman came!

  And down goes princely Caradoc ­
    Down Tristan and stout Agrafrayn, ­
  Unscath’d, alone, amidst the field,
  Great Lancelot bears his victor-shield;
  The sunflower bright’ning through the shock,
    And through that iron rain.

  “Sound, trumpets ­sound! ­to South and North! 
    I, Lancelot of the Lake, proclaim,
  That never sun and never air,
  Or shone or breathed on form so fair
  As hers ­thrice, trumpets, sound it forth! ­
    Our Arthur’s royal dame!”

  And South and North, and West and East,
    Upon the thunder-blast it flies! 
  Still on his steed sits Lancelot,
  And even echo answers not;
  Till, as the stormy challenge ceased,
    A voice was heard ­“He lies!”

  All turn’d their mute, astonish’d gaze,
    To where the daring answer came,
  And lo!  Sir Elvar’s haughty crest! ­
  Fierce on the knight the gazers press’d; ­
  Their wands the sacred Heralds raise, ­
    Genevra weeps for shame.

  “Sir Knight,” King Arthur smiling said
    (In smiles a king should wrath disguise),
  “Know’st thou, in truth, a dame so fair,
  Our Queen may not with her compare? 
  Genevra, weep, and hide thy head ­
    Sir Lancelot, yield the prize.”

  “O, grace, my liege, for surely each
    The dame he serves should peerless hold,
  To loyal eye and faithful breast
  The loved one is the loveliest.” 
  The King replied, “Not crafty speech ­
    Bold deeds ­excuse the bold!

  “So name thy fair, defend her right! 
    A list! ­Ho Lancelot, guard thy shield. 
  Her name?” ­Sir Elvar’s visage fell: 
  “A vow forbids the name to tell.” 
  “Now out upon the recreant Knight
    Who courts yet shuns the field!

  “Foul shame, were royal name disgraced
    By some light leman’s taunting smile! 
  Whoe’er ­so run the tourney’s laws ­
  Would break a lance in Beauty’s cause,
  Must name the Highborn and the Chaste ­
    The nameless are the vile.”

  Sir Elvar glanced, where, stern and high,
    The scornful champion rein’d his steed;
  Where o’er the Lists the seats were raised,
  And jealous dames disdainful gazed,
  He glanced, nor caught one gentle eye ­
    Courts grow not friends at need: 

  “King!  I have said, and keep my vow.” 
    “Thy vow!  I pledge thee mine in turn,
  Ere the third sun shall sink, ­or bring
  A fair outshining yonder ring,
  Or find mine oath as thine is now
    Inflexible and stern.

  “Thy sword, unmeet to serve the right, ­
    Thy spurs, unfit for churls to wear,
  Torn from thee; ­through the crowd, which heard
  Our Lady weep at vassal’s word,
  Shall hiss the hoot, ­’Behold the knight,
    Whose lips belie the fair!’

  “Three days I give; nor think to fly
    Thy doom; for on the rider’s steed,
  Though to the farthest earth he ride, ­
  Disgrace once mounted, clings beside;
  And Mockery’s barbed shafts defy
    Her victim’s swiftest speed.”

  Far to the forest’s stillest shade,
    Sir Elvar took his lonely way: 
  Beneath the oak, whose gentle frown
  Still dimm’d the noon, he laid him down,
  And saw the Fount that through the glade
    Sang sparkling up to day.

  Alas, in vain his heart address’d,
    With sighs, with prayers, his elfin bride; ­
  What though the vow conceal’d the name,
  Did not the boast the charms proclaim? 
  The spell has vanish’d from his breast,
    The fairy from his side.

  Oh, not for vulgar homage made,
    The holier beauty form’d for one;
  It asks no wreath the arm can win;
  Its lists ­its world ­the heart within;
  All love, if sacred, haunts the shade ­
    The star shrinks from the sun!

  Three days the wand’rer roved in vain;
    Uprose the fatal dawn at last! 
  The Lists are set, the galleries raised,
  And, scorn’d by all the eyes that gazed,
  Alone he fronts the crowd again,
    And hears the sentence pass’d.

  Now, as, amidst the hooting scorn,
    Rude hands the hard command fulfil,
  While rings the challenge ­“Sun and air
  Ne’er shone, ne’er breathed, on form so fair
  As Arthur’s Queen,” ­a single horn
    Came from the forest hill.

  A note so distant and so lone,
    And yet so sweet, ­it thrill’d along,
  It hush’d the Champion on his steed,
  Startled the rude hands from their deed,
  Charm’d the stern Arthur on his throne,
    And still’d the shouting throng.

  To North, to South, to East, and West,
    They turn’d their eyes; and o’er the plain,
  On palfrey white, a Ladye rode;
  As woven light her mantle glow’d. 
  Two lovely shapes, in azure dress’d,
    Walk’d first, and led the rein.

  The crowd gave way, as onward bore
    That vision from the Land of Dreams;
  Veil’d was the gentle rider’s face,
  But not the two her path that grace. 
  How dim beside the charms they wore
    All human beauty seems!

  So to the throne the pageant came,
    And thus the Fairy to the King: 
  “Not unto thee for ever dear,
  By minstrel’s song, to knighthood’s ear
  Beseems the wrath that wrongs the vow,
    Which hallows ev’n a name.

  “Bloom there no flowers more sweet by night? 
    Come, Queen, before the judgment throne;
  Behold Sir Elvar’s nameless bride! 
  Now, Queen, his doom thyself decide.” 
  She raised her veil, ­and all her light
    Of beauty round them shone!

  The bloom, the eyes, the locks, the smile,
    That never earth nor time could dim; ­
  Day grew more bright, and air more clear,
  As Heaven itself were brought more near. ­
    And oh! his joy, who felt, the while,
  That light but glow’d for him!

  “My steed, my lance, vain Champion, now
    To arms:  and Heaven defend the right!” ­
  Here spake the Queen, “The strife is past,”
  And in the Lists her glove she cast,
  “And I myself will crown thy brow,
    Thou love-defended Knight!”

  He comes to claim the garland crown;
    The changeful thousands shout his name;
  And faithless beauty round him smiled,
  How cold, beside the Forest’s Child,
  Who ask’d not love to bring renown,
    And clung to love in shame!

  He bears the prize to those dear feet: 
    “Not mine the guerdon! oh, not mine!”
  Sadly the fated Fairy hears,
  And smiles through unreproachful tears;
  “Nay, keep the flowers, and be they sweet
    When I ­no more am thine!”

  She lower’d the veil, she turn’d the rein,
    And ere his lips replied, was gone. 
  As on she went her charmed way,
  No mortal dared the steps to stay: 
  And when she vanish’d from the plain
    All space seem’d left alone!

  Oh, woe! that fairy shape no more
    Shall bless thy love nor rouse thy pride! 
  He seeks the wood, he gains the spot ­
  The Tree is there, the Fountain not; ­
  Dried up: ­its mirthful play is o’er. 
    Ah, where the Fairy Bride?

  Alas, with fairies as with men,
    Who love are victims from the birth! 
  A fearful doom the fairy shrouds,
  If once unveil’d by day to crowds. 
  The Fountain vanish’d from the glen,
    The Fairy from the earth!