"For wit ye not that many eyes Upon you here have stared; Now have a cup of wine until All things may be prepared."

Elaine lay in a fair chamber, 'Twixt linen sweet and clene.

Dame Brisen all the windows stopped, That no day might be seen.

Dame Brisen fetched a cup of wine And Launcelot drank thereof.

"No more of flagons," saith he, "For I am mad for love."

Dame Brisen took Sir Launcelot Where lay the maid Elaine.

Sir Launcelot entered the bed chamber The queen's love for to gain.

Sir Launcelot kissed the maid Elaine, And her cheeks and brows did burn; And then they lay in other's arms Until the morn's underne.

Anon Sir Launcelot arose And toward the window groped, And then he saw the maid Elaine When he the window oped.

"Ah, traitoress," saith Launcelot, And then he gat his sword, "That I should live so long and now Become a knight abhorred."

"False traitoress," saith Launcelot, And then he shook the steel.

Elaine skipped naked from the bed And 'fore the knight did kneel.

"I am King Pelles own daughter And thou art Launcelot, The greatest knight of all the world.

This hour we have begot."

"Oh, traitoress Brisen," cried the knight, "Oh, charmed cup of wine; That I this treasonous thing should do For treasures such as thine."

"Have mercy," saith maid Elaine, "Thy child is in my womb."

Thereat the morning's silvern light Flooded the bridal room.

That light it was a benison; It seemed a holy boon, As when behind a wrack of cloud Shineth the summer moon.

And in the eyes of maid Elaine Looked forth so sweet a faith, Sir Launcelot took his glittering sword, And thrust it in the sheath.

"So G.o.d me help, I spare thy life, But I am wretch and thrall, If any let my sword to make Dame Brisen's head to fall."

"So have thy will of her," she said, "But do to me but good; For thou hast had my fairest flower, Which is my maidenhood."

"And we have done the will of G.o.d, And the will of G.o.d is best."

Sir Launcelot lifted the maid Elaine And hid her on his breast.

Anon there cometh in a dove, By the window's open fold, And in her mouth was a rich censer That shone like beaten gold.

And therewithal was such savor, As bloweth over sea, From a land of many colored flowers, And trees of spicery.

And therewithal was meat and drink, And a damsel pa.s.sing fair, Betwixt her hands of silver white A golden cup did bear.

"O Jesu," said Sir Launcelot, "What may this marvel mean?"

"That is," she said, "the richest thing That any man hath seen."

"O Jesu," said Sir Launcelot, "What may this sight avail?"

"Now wit ye well," said maid Elaine, "This is the Holy Grail."

And then a nimbus light hung o'er Her brow so fair and meek; And turned to orient pearls the tears That glistered down her cheek.

And a sound of music pa.s.sing sweet Went in and out again.

Sir Launcelot made the sign of the cross, And knelt to maid Elaine.

"Name him whatever name thou wilt, But be his sword and mail Thrice tempered 'gainst a wayward world, That lost the Holy Grail."

Sir Launcelot sadly took his leave And rode against the morn.

And when the time was fully come Sir Galahad was born.

Also he was from Jesu Christ, Our Lord, the eighth degree; Likewise the greatest knight this world May ever hope to see.

THE DEATH OF SIR LAUNCELOT

Sir Launcelot had fled to France For the peace of Guinevere, And many a n.o.ble knight was slain, And Arthur lay on his bier.

Sir Launcelot took ship from France And sailed across the sea.

He rode seven days through fair England Till he came to Almesbury.

Then spake Sir Bors to Launcelot: The old time is at end; You have no more in England's realm In east nor west a friend.

You have no friend in all England Sith Mordred's war hath been, And Queen Guinevere became a nun To heal her soul of sin.

Sir Launcelot answered never a word But rode to the west countree Until through the forest he saw a light That shone from a nunnery.

Sir Launcelot entered the cloister, And the queen fell down in a swoon.

Oh blessed Jesu, saith the queen, For thy mother's love, a boon.

Go hence, Sir Launcelot, saith the queen, And let me win G.o.d's grace.

My heavy heart serves me no more To look upon thy face.

Through you was wrought King Arthur's death, Through you great war and wrake.

Leave me alone, let me bleed, Pa.s.s by for Jesu's sake.

Then fare you well, saith Launcelot, Sweet Madam, fare you well.

And sythen you have left the world No more in the world I dwell.

Then up rose sad Sir Launcelot And rode by wold and mere Until he came to a hermitage Where bode Sir Bedivere.

And there he put a habit on And there did pray and fast.

And when Sir Bedivere told him all His heart for sorrow brast.

How that Sir Mordred, traitorous knight Betrayed his King and sire; And how King Arthur wounded, died Broken in heart's desire.

And so Sir Launcelot penance made, And worked at servile toil; And prayed the Bishop of Canterbury His sins for to a.s.soil.