Sir Elvar is the fairest knight That ever lured a lady's glance; Sir Elvar is the wealthiest lord That sits at good King Arthur's board;
The bravest in the joust or fight, The lightest in the dance. And never love, methinks, so blest As his, this weary world has known;
For, every night before his eyes, The charms that ne'er can fade arise — A star unseen by all the rest — A Life for him alone.
And yet Sir Elvar is not blest — He walks apart with brows of gloom — “The meanest knight in Arthur's hall His lady-love may tell to all;
He shows the flower that glads his breast — His pride to boast its bloom! “And I who clasp the fairest form That e'er to man's embrace was given,
Must hide the gift as if in shame! What boots a prize we dare not name? The sun must shine if it would warm — A cloud is all my heaven!”
Much proud Genevra marvell'd, how A knight so fair should seem so cold; What if a love for hope too high, Has chain'd the lip and awed the eye?
A second joust — and surely now The secret shall be told. For, there, alone shall ride the brave Whose glory dwells in Beauty's fame;
Each, for his lady's honour, arms — His lance the test of rival charms. Joy unto him whom Beauty gave The right to gild her name!
Sir Lancelot burns to win the prize — First in the Lists his shield is seen; A sunflower for device he took — “Where'er thou shinest turns my look.”
So as he paced the Lists, his eyes Still sought the Sun — his Queen! “And why, Sir Elvar, loiterest thou?— Lives there no fair thy lance to claim?”
No answer Elvar made the King; Sullen he stood without the ring. “Forwards!” An armed whirlwind now On horse and horseman came!
And down goes princely Caradoc — Down Tristan and stout Agrafrayn,— Unscath'd, alone, amidst the field, Great Lancelot bears his victor-shield;
The sunflower bright'ning through the shock, And through that iron rain. “Sound, trumpets — sound!— to South and North! I, Lancelot of the Lake, proclaim,
That never sun and never air, Or shone or breathed on form so fair As hers — thrice, trumpets, sound it forth!— Our Arthur's royal dame!”
And South and North, and West and East, Upon the thunder-blast it flies! Still on his steed sits Lancelot, And even echo answers not;
Till, as the stormy challenge ceased, A voice was heard — “He lies!” All turn'd their mute, astonish'd gaze, To where the daring answer came,
And lo! Sir Elvar's haughty crest!— Fierce on the knight the gazers press'd;— Their wands the sacred Heralds raise,— Genevra weeps for shame.
“Sir Knight,” King Arthur smiling said ( In smiles a king should wrath disguise ), “Know'st thou, in truth, a dame so fair, Our Queen may not with her compare?
Genevra, weep, and hide thy head — Sir Lancelot, yield the prize.” “O, grace, my liege, for surely each The dame he serves should peerless hold,
To loyal eye and faithful breast The loved one is the loveliest.” The King replied, “Not crafty speech — Bold deeds — excuse the bold!
“So name thy fair, defend her right! A list!— Ho Lancelot, guard thy shield. Her name?” — Sir Elvar's visage fell: “A vow forbids the name to tell.”
“Now out upon the recreant Knight Who courts yet shuns the field! “Foul shame, were royal name disgraced By some light leman's taunting smile!
Whoe'er — so run the tourney's laws — Would break a lance in Beauty's cause, Must name the Highborn and the Chaste — The nameless are the vile.”
Sir Elvar glanced, where, stern and high, The scornful champion rein'd his steed; Where o'er the Lists the seats were raised, And jealous dames disdainful gazed,
He glanced, nor caught one gentle eye — Courts grow not friends at need: “King! I have said, and keep my vow.” “Thy vow! I pledge thee mine in turn,
Ere the third sun shall sink,— or bring A fair outshining yonder ring, Or find mine oath as thine is now Inflexible and stern.
“Thy sword, unmeet to serve the right,— Thy spurs, unfit for churls to wear, Torn from thee;— through the crowd, which heard Our Lady weep at vassal's word,
Shall hiss the hoot,—‘ Behold the knight, Whose lips belie the fair!’ “Three days I give; nor think to fly Thy doom; for on the rider's steed,
Though to the farthest earth he ride,— Disgrace once mounted, clings beside; And Mockery's barbed shafts defy Her victim's swiftest speed.”
Far to the forest's stillest shade, Sir Elvar took his lonely way: Beneath the oak, whose gentle frown Still dimm'd the noon, he laid him down,
And saw the Fount that through the glade Sang sparkling up to day. Alas, in vain his heart address'd, With sighs, with prayers, his elfin bride;—
What though the vow conceal'd the name, Did not the boast the charms proclaim? The spell has vanish'd from his breast, The fairy from his side.
Oh, not for vulgar homage made, The holier beauty form'd for one; It asks no wreath the arm can win; Its lists — its world — the heart within;
All love, if sacred, haunts the shade — The star shrinks from the sun! Three days the wand'rer roved in vain; Uprose the fatal dawn at last!
The Lists are set, the galleries raised, And, scorn'd by all the eyes that gazed, Alone he fronts the crowd again, And hears the sentence pass'd.
Now, as, amidst the hooting scorn, Rude hands the hard command fulfil, While rings the challenge — “Sun and air Ne'er shone, ne'er breathed, on form so fair
As Arthur's Queen,” — a single horn Came from the forest hill. A note so distant and so lone, And yet so sweet,— it thrill'd along,
It hush'd the Champion on his steed, Startled the rude hands from their deed, Charm'd the stern Arthur on his throne, And still'd the shouting throng.
To North, to South, to East, and West, They turn'd their eyes; and o'er the plain, On palfrey white, a Ladye rode; As woven light her mantle glow'd.
Two lovely shapes, in azure dress'd, Walk'd first, and led the rein. The crowd gave way, as onward bore That vision from the Land of Dreams;
Veil'd was the gentle rider's face, But not the two her path that grace. How dim beside the charms they wore All human beauty seems!
So to the throne the pageant came, And thus the Fairy to the King: “Not unto thee for ever dear, By minstrel's song, to knighthood's ear
Beseems the wrath that wrongs the vow, Which hallows ev'n a name. “Bloom there no flowers more sweet by night? Come, Queen, before the judgment throne;
Behold Sir Elvar's nameless bride! Now, Queen, his doom thyself decide.” She raised her veil,— and all her light Of beauty round them shone!
The bloom, the eyes, the locks, the smile, That never earth nor time could dim;— Day grew more bright, and air more clear, As Heaven itself were brought more near.—
And oh! his joy, who felt, the while, That light but glow'd for him! “My steed, my lance, vain Champion, now To arms: and Heaven defend the right!” —
Here spake the Queen, “The strife is past,” And in the Lists her glove she cast, “And I myself will crown thy brow, Thou love-defended Knight!”
He comes to claim the garland crown; The changeful thousands shout his name; And faithless beauty round him smiled, How cold, beside the Forest's Child,
Who ask'd not love to bring renown, And clung to love in shame! He bears the prize to those dear feet: “Not mine the guerdon! oh, not mine!”
Sadly the fated Fairy hears, And smiles through unreproachful tears; “Nay, keep the flowers, and be they sweet When I — no more am thine!”
She lower'd the veil, she turn'd the rein, And ere his lips replied, was gone. As on she went her charmed way, No mortal dared the steps to stay:
And when she vanish'd from the plain All space seem'd left alone! Oh, woe! that fairy shape no more Shall bless thy love nor rouse thy pride!
He seeks the wood, he gains the spot — The Tree is there, the Fountain not;— Dried up:— its mirthful play is o'er. Ah, where the Fairy Bride?
Alas, with fairies as with men, Who love are victims from the birth! A fearful doom the fairy shrouds, If once unveil'd by day to crowds.
The Fountain vanish'd from the glen, The Fairy from the earth!
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