Page:Early poems of William Morris.djvu/61

 "The thrushes sang in the lone garden there— But where you were the birds were scared I trow— Clanging of arms about pavilions fair, Mixed with the knights' laughs; there, as I well know,

"Rode Launcelot, the king of all the band, And scowling Gauwaine, like the night in day, And handsome Gareth, with his great white hand Curl'd round the helm-crest, ere he join'd the fray;

"And merry Dinadan with his sharp dark face, All true knights loved to see; and in the fight Great Tristram, and though helmed you could trace In all his bearing the frank noble knight;

"And by him Palomydes, helmet off, He fought, his face brush'd by his hair, Red heavy swinging hair; he fear'd a scoff So overmuch, though what true knight would dare

"To mock that face, fretted with useless care, And bitter useless striving after love? O Palomydes, with much honour bear Beast Glatysaunt upon your shield, above

"Your helm that hides the swinging of your hair, And think of Iseult, as your sword drives through Much mail and plate—O God, let me be there A little time, as I was long ago!

"Because stout Gareth lets his spear fall low, Gauwaine, and Launcelot, and Dinadan Are helm'd and waiting; let the trumpets go! Bend over, ladies, to see all you can!