And Dinadam with lively glance,

And Lanval with the fairy lance,

And Mordred with his look askaunce, Brunor and Bevidere.

Why should I tell of numbers more?

Sir Cay, Sir Banier, and Sir Bore,
Sir Carodac the keen,

The gentle Gawain's courteous lore,
Hector de Mares and Pellinore,

And Lancelot, that ever more

Look'd stol'n wise on the Queen.

XIV.

When wine and mirth did most abound,

And harpers play'd their blithest round,

A shrilly trumpet shook the ground,

And marshals clear'd the ring;

A Maiden, on a palfrey white,

Heading a band of damsels bright,
Paced through the circle, to alight

And kneel before the King.

Arthur, with strong emotion, saw

Her graceful boldness check'd by awe,

Her dress like huntress of the wold,

Her bow and baldrick trapp'd with gold, Her sandall'd feet, her ancles bare,

And the eagle plume that deck'd her hair. Graceful her veil she backwards flung

The King, as from his seat he sprung,

Almost cried, "Guendolen !"

But 'twas a face more frank and wild,
Betwixt the woman and the child,

Where less of magic beauty smiled

Than of the race of men;

And in the forehead's haughty grace,
The lines of Britain's royal race,

Pendragon's, you might ken.

XV.

Faultering, yet gracefully, she said—

"Great Prince! behold an orphan maid,

In her departed mother's name,

A father's vow'd protection claim!
The vow was sworn in desart lone,
In the deep valley of St John."-
At once the King the suppliant raised,
And kiss'd her brow, her beauty praised;
His vow, he said, should well be kept,
Ere in the sea the sun was dipp'd,—
Then, conscious, glanced upon his queen:
But she, unruffled at the scene,

Of human frailty construed mild,

Look'd upon Lancelot, and smiled.

XVI.

"Up! up! each knight of gallant crest!

Take buckler, spear, and brand!

He that to-day shall bear him best,

Shall win my Gyneth's hand.

And Arthur's daughter, when a bride,

Shall bring a noble dower;

Both fair Strath-Clyde and Reged wide,

And Carlisle town and tower."

Then might you hear each valiant knight,

To page and squire that cried,

"Bring my armour bright, and my courser wight!

"Tis not each day that a warrior's might

May win a royal bride."—

Then cloaks and caps of maintenance

In haste aside they fling;

The helmets glance, and gleams the lance,

And the steel-weaved hauberks ring.

Small care had they of their peaceful array,
They might gather it that wolde;
For brake and bramble glitter'd gay,

With pearls and cloth of gold.

XVII.

Within trumpet sound of the Table Round

Were fifty champions free,

And they all arise to fight that prize,—

They all arise, but three.

Nor love's fond troth, nor wedlock's oath,

One gallant could withhold,

For priests will allow of a broken vow,

For penance or for gold.

But sigh and glance from ladies bright

Among the troop were thrown,

To plead their right, and true-love plight,
And plain of honour flown.

The knights they busied them so fast,
With buckling spur and belt,

That sigh and look, by ladies cast,

Were neither seen nor felt.

From pleading, or upbraiding glance,

Each gallant turns aside,

And only thought, " If speeds my lance,

She has fair Strath-Clyde, and Reged wide,

And Carlisle tower and town;

She is the loveliest maid, beside,

That ever heir'd a crown."