THE SANCGREAL.

It chanced, when Lancelot du Lake
Had freed from durance vile
The fairest lady in the land,
He journeyed on awhile,

Until King Pelles spied the knight,
Whose castle stood hard by,
And begged him to alight and share
His hospitality.

So courteously and graciously
The twain passed through the gate,
Then sat within the banquet hall,
The viands to await.

But lo! through window opened wide,
Without or voice or sound,
A gentle dove came gliding in,
And floated round and round.

Within her beak a censer hung
Cast in pure molten gold,
Whence clouds of fragrance issued forth
Which o'er the table rolled.
It seemed as Araby the blest,
And every spicy isle,
Had garnered all their treasures up,
To waft them there the while.

And forthwithal upon the board
All kinds of meats were spread,
And drinks that might the palate please
Were likewise furnishèd.

A damsel passing fair and young,
Most beauteous to behold,
Came gliding in -- betwixt her hands
She bare a vase of gold.

And thereunto the King kneeled down,
Devoutly and with grace,
To say his prayers, as also did
Each soul within the place.

Then spake Sir Lancelot du Lake
And askèd of the King,
'What may this mean? I pray you tell.'
'This is the richest thing,'

Replied King Pelles, 'that a man
Can own, alive or dead;
E'en the Round Table, when this comes,
Shall be abolishèd.
'And wit thou well, thou here hast seen
The holy Sangreal --
The blessed gift -- the cherished hope
Sought for and prayed of all.'

In after years when Lancelot
Had wedded sweet Elaine,
King Pelles' child, within those walls,
The wonder happed again.

For Lancelot's nephew, young Sir Bors,
To Corben Castle rode,
And in the banquet-hall he saw
Elaine, just where she stood,

Her baby on her arm; and when
She said the lovely boy
Was Lancelot's child, he kneelèd down
And wept for very joy,

And prayed to God, that when the child
To years of manhood grew,
He might prove worthy of his sire,
As brave a knight and true.

Then through the window opened wide,
Without or voice or sound,
A gentle dove came gliding in,
And floated round and round.
Within her beak a censer hung
Formed of pure molten gold,
Whence clouds of fragrance issued forth,
Which o'er the table rolled.

It seemed as Araby the blest,
And every spicy isle,
Had garnered all their treasures up
To waft them there awhile.

And forthwithal upon the board
All kinds of meats were spread,
And drinks that might the palate please
Were also furnishèd.

A damsel passing fair and young,
Most beauteous to behold,
Came gliding in, betwixt her hands
Bearing a vase of gold.

She spake, 'This babe Sir Galahad,
Sir Bors, I bid you wit,
In future on Siege Perilous
As knight shall surely sit --

'A nobler knight than is his sire' --
Her words rang through the hall --
'For as he lives, he surely shall
Achieve the Sancgreal.'

She vanished then. As of afore,
King Pelles spoke out loud:
'No knight shall win, or honour have,
Save he that loveth God.

'Be he a knight of high degree,
Or be he e'er so brave,
An he nor love nor feareth God,
No honour shall he have.'

Replied Sir Bors, 'Within these halls
(I wot not what they mean)
Most strange and weird adventures hap,
And wondrous sights are seen.
I will be shriven with good will
And be confessèd clean.'

So was he shriven of his sins,
And in the dead of night
Most marvellous adventures happed,
Too lengthy here to write.

When morning broke, to Camelot
He spurred his gallant steed;
For Arthur had returned from France
Victorious, and decreed

That feasts and tournaments be held
Upon that very day,
And all his knights at Table Round
Should sit in full array.

But when uncovered was the siege
Hight Perilous, behold,
The name of young Sir Galahad
Shone forth in molten gold.

But no one at the Table wot
Who Galahad might be,
Till long years afterward he came
Out from the nunnery

Where holy women reared the child
Till he to manhood grew,
And taught him to be good and wise,
Noble, and brave, and true.

At Pentecost, he having first
Performed the holy rite,
On bended knee he begged to be
Installèd as a knight.

Sir Lancelot surveyed the youth,
And found him passing fair,
With limbs well knit, of stature tall,
Graceful beyond compare.

He struck him with his sword, and said,
'Sir Galahad, arise!
God grant the virtue ne'er may fade
Now shining through your eyes!'

Sir Galahad then hasted forth,
To joust withouten shield;
He broke their spears, he threw the knights
Save twain who would not yield.

He then unhorsed, unlaced him helm
At Guinever's request,
Who, looking on his visage, spake,
'No marvel he is best

'At jousting and at holy prayer;
For, as you plainly see,
His face and mien bespeak him sprung
From true nobility.'

Then all to the great minster sped
To offer evensong,
King, Queen, the knights of Table Round,
With all the motley throng.

Then back to Camelot to sup,
Where in the lofty hall,
Each sitting as toforehand, lo!
This marvel did befall:

The thunder growled, and cracked ahead
As though the walls would rive.
Each knight made sign of cross, as though
The priest had stood to shrive.

But in the midst of crash and blast
A sunbeam entered there,
By seven times brighter than the day,
When day is bright and clear.

It shed such lustre over all,
Each scanned his neighbour o'er;
And each seemed fairer in that light
Than e'er he seemed before.

No word was spoke, no sound was made,
As they all dumb had been:
The holy Grail in white samite
Came softly gliding in.

And as afore the hall was filled
With perfumes where it moved,
And every knight had meats and drinks
As each one wished and loved.

As quickly as it glided in,
It quick evanishèd;
None knew from whence or whitherward
The holy vision fled.

King Arthur rose with reverence,
Bowing full low his head:
'Thank Jesu Christ our Lord for this
So precious boon,' he said.

Then up and spake Gawaine, 'I vow
By all I hold most dear,
In quest of this most holy Grail,
To wander for a year.

'And eke a day nor e'er return
Until it reappear
Unto my longing eyes more bright
And openly than here!'

Then rose up all the knights around,
And vowed, with one accord,
With heart and soul to join the quest,
For love of Christ their Lord.

King Arthur spake with troubled mien,
'Alas! Gawaine, Gawaine!
With this avow and promise made,
Ye have me well nigh slain.

'Alas! this morn I held secure
A band so brave and true,
The fairest fellowship on earth
That knighthood ever knew.

'Ye have bereft me of this band.
Alas! it grieves me sore;
For when they once depart from hence,
I ne'er shall meet them more.

'For many in the quest will die --
Those that I loved so well.
How close I held them to my heart,
No words of mine can tell.

'And thus it now forthinketh me,
I fain for grief would die;
For 'twas an old, old usage
To have their company.'

This spake he, with the gathering tears
Slow trembling in his eyes,
Fresh from his o'ercharged heart, so full
Of loving memories.

Next morn, the band of gallant knights
Through the great minster pass,
And kneel below the altar stair
To celebrate the mass.

And then 'to horse!' The eager crowd
Are gathering far and near;
Maidens forlorn and gentlefolk
With wistful eyes are there:

The rich, the poor, the camp, the court,
Arthur and Guinever;
They bid farewell with many a sob
And many a bitter tear.

They mount, they ride, their glittering plumes
Are waving in the wind;
Ah! what remains save aching hearts
To those they leave behind?