Part 14 (1/2)

A bank late covered by the snow, But lighted by the frozen North; Her soul is like a little plot That one white blossom bringeth forth.

Her soul is slim, like silver slips, And straight, like flags beside a stream.

Her soul is like a shape that moves And changes in a wonder dream.

Who would pursue her clasps a cloud, And taketh sorrow for his zeal.

Memory shall sing him many songs While bound upon the torture wheel.

Her soul is like a wolf that glides By moonlight o'er a phantom ridge; Her face is like a light that runs Beneath the shadow of a bridge.

Her voice is like a woodland cry Heard in a summer's desolate hour.

Her eyes are dim; her lips are faint, And tinctured like the cuckoo flower.

Her little b.r.e.a.s.t.s are like the buds Of tulips in a place forlorn.

Her soul is like a mandrake bloom Standing against the crimson moon.

Her dream is like the fenny snake's, That warms him in the noonday's fire.

She hath no thought, nor any hope, Save of herself and her desire.

She is not life; she is not death; She is not fear, or joy or grief.

Her soul is like a quiet sea Beneath a ruin-haunted reef.

She is the shape the sailor sees, That slips the rock without a sound.

She is the soul that comes and goes And leaves no mark, yet makes a wound.

She is the soul that hunts and flies; She is a world-wide mist of care.

She is the restlessness of life, Its rapture and despair.

BALLAD OF LAUNCELOT AND ELAINE

It was a hermit on Whitsunday That came to the Table Round.

”King Arthur, wit ye by what Knight May the Holy Grail be found?”

”By never a Knight that liveth now; By none that feasteth here.”

King Arthur marvelled when he said, ”He shall be got this year.”

Then uprose brave Sir Launcelot And there did mount his steed, And hastened to a pleasant town That stood in knightly need.

Where many people him acclaimed, He pa.s.sed the Corbin pounte, And there he saw a fairer tower Than ever was his wont.

And in that tower for many years A dolorous lady lay, Whom Queen Northgalis had bewitched, And also Queen le Fay.

And Launcelot loosed her from those pains, And there a dragon slew.

Then came King Pelles out and said, ”Your name, brave Knight and true?”

”My name is Pelles, wit ye well, And King of the far country; And I, Sir Knight, am cousin nigh To Joseph of Armathie.”

”I am Sir Launcelot du Lake.”