Page:Early poems of William Morris.djvu/49



Because at last she rose up from her bed, And put her raiment on, and knelt before The blessed rood, and with her dry lips said, Muttering the words against the marble floor:

"Unless you pardon, what shall I do, Lord, But go to hell? and there see day by day Foul deed on deed, hear foulest word on word, For ever and ever, such as on the way

"To Camelot I heard once from a churl, That curled me up upon my jennet's neck With bitter shame; how then, Lord, should I curl For ages and for ages? dost thou reck

"That I am beautiful. Lord, even as you And your dear Mother? why did I forget You were so beautiful, and good, and true, That you loved me so, Guenevere? O yet

"If even I go hell, I cannot choose But love you, Christ, yea, though I cannot keep From loving Launcelot; O Christ! must I lose My own heart's love? see, though I cannot weep,

"Yet am I very sorry for my sin; Moreover, Christ, I cannot bear that hell, I am most fain to love you, and to win A place in heaven some time—I cannot tell—

"Speak to me, Christ! I kiss, kiss, kiss your feet; Ah! now I weep!"—The maid said, "By the tomb He waiteth for you, lady," coming fleet, Not knowing what woe filled up all the room.