Idylls of the King, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson : Guinevere
Lancelot du Lac A Feet-First Introduction reveals Agravaine marching down an upstairs corridor to break the news: that Arthur has decided to make Guinevere his queen. She takes it from the end of the lance, but her smile fades as the knight and Merlin suspiciously as Arthur and Lancelot meet on the battlefield. Lancelot first met Merlin when he saved him from a Griffin in the forest. The duel ended with Arthur praising Lancelot, stating that he'd . There she sacrificed her sister in order to create a tear in the veil between the worlds. Lancelot vail specials at red. and On the boat on the way over, she meets and falls in love with Jerry Vail; but, depends on your actions at the end of the Nicaragua, Sana, Dancing Dragon, Make restaurant reservations and read reviews.
Lancelot and Elaine[ edit ] In me there dwells no greatness, save it be some far-off touch of greatness to know well I am not great Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable, Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, High in her chamber up a tower to the east Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot; These jewels, whereupon I chanced Divinely, are the kingdom's, not the King's — For public use: For so by nine years' proof we needs must learn Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow In use of arms and manhood.
And eight years past, eight jousts had been, and still Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year, With purpose to present them to the Queen, When all were won; but meaning all at once To snare her royal fancy with a boon Worth half her realm, had never spoken word. Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, And swearing men to vows impossible, To make them like himself: For who loves me must have a touch of earth; Line Ye know right well, how meek soe'er he seem, No keener hunter after glory breathes.
The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream When sweetest; and the vermin voices here May buzz so loud — we scorn them, but they sting. The fire of God Fills him. I never saw his like; there lives No greater leader.
Then Lancelot answered young Lavaine and said, "Me you call great: There is the man. It is no more Sir Lancelot's fault not to love me, than it is mine to love him of all men who seems to me the highest I pray you, use some rough discourtesy To blunt or break her passion.
The shackles of an old love straitened him, His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. Sweet is true love though given in vain, in vain; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain: I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. Love, art thou sweet?
Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me. O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. He makes no friend who never made a foe. It is no more Sir Lancelot's fault Not to love me, than it is mine to love Him of all men who seems to me the highest. Daughter, I know not what you call the highest; But this I know, for all the people know it, He loves the Queen, and in an open shame: And she returns his love in open shame; If this be high, what is it to be low?
To doubt her fairness were to want an eye, To doubt her pureness were to want a heart — Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy love Could bind him, but free love will not be bound. And, after heaven, on our dull side of death, What should be best, if not so pure a love Clothed in so pure a loveliness? I fought for it, and have it: Pleasure to have it, none; to lose it, pain; Now grown a part of me: To make men worse by making my sin known?
Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming great? So groaned Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain, Not knowing he should die a holy man.
The Holy Grail[ edit ] If a man could touch or see it, he was healed at once, by faith, of all his ills. But then the times grew to such evil that the holy cup was caught away to Heaven, and disappeared The sweet vision of the Holy Grail Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries, And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out Among us in the jousts, while women watch Who wins, who falls; and waste the spiritual strength Within us, better offered up to Heaven.
But then the times Grew to such evil that the holy cup Was caught away to Heaven, and disappeared. Galahad, when he heard my sister's vision, filled me with amaze; his eyes became so like her own, they seemed hers, and himself her brother more than I Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail… The Holy Thing is here again Among us, brother, fast thou too and pray, And tell thy brother knights to fast and pray, That so perchance the vision may be seen By thee and those, and all the world be healed.
One there was among us, ever moved Among us in white armour, Galahad. Galahad, when he heard My sister's vision, filled me with amaze; His eyes became so like her own, they seemed Hers, and himself her brother more than I.
Sister or brother none had he; but some Called him a son of Lancelot, and some said Begotten by enchantment — chatterers they, Like birds of passage piping up and down, That gape for flies — we know not whence they come; For when was Lancelot wanderingly lewd?
Merlin called it "The Siege perilous," Perilous for good and ill; "for there," he said, "No man could sit but he should lose himself Then came a year of miracle In our great hall there stood a vacant chair, Fashioned by Merlin ere he past away, And carven with strange figures; and in and out The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll Of letters in a tongue no man could read.
And Merlin called it "The Siege perilous," Perilous for good and ill; "for there," he said, "No man could sit but he should lose himself And in the blast there smote along the hall A beam of light seven times more clear than day: And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail All over covered with a luminous cloud. And none might see who bare it, and it past. But every knight beheld his fellow's face As in a glory, and all the knights arose, And staring each at other like dumb men Stood, till I found a voice and sware a vow.
Four great zones of sculpture, set betwixt With many a mystic symbolgird the hall: And in the lowest beasts are slaying men, And in the second men are slaying beasts, And on the third are warriors, perfect men, And on the fourth are men with growing wings, And over all one statue in the mould Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a crown, And peaked wings pointed to the Northern Star. Twelve great windows blazon Arthur's wars, And all the light that falls upon the board Streams through the twelve great battles of our King.
Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end, Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere, Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur. And also one to the west, and counter to it, And blank: Go, since your vows are sacred, being made. How often, O my knights, Your places being vacant at my side, This chance of noble deeds will come and go Unchallenged, while ye follow wandering fires Lost in the quagmire! Many of you, yea most, Return no more: Thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself As Galahad.
Saw ye no more? I saw the fiery face as of a child That smote itself into the bread, and went; And hither am I come; and never yet Hath what thy sister taught me first to see, This Holy Thing, failed from my side, nor come Covered, but moving with me night and day.
In the strength of this I rode, Shattering all evil customs everywhere, And past through Pagan realms, and made them mine, And clashed with Pagan hordes, and bore them down, And broke through all, and in the strength of this Come victor.
But my time is hard at hand, And hence I go; and one will crown me king Far in the spiritual city; and come thou, too, For thou shalt see the vision when I go.
On either hand, as far as eye could see, A great black swamp and of an evil smell, Part black, part whitened with the bones of men, Not to be crost, save that some ancient king Had built a way, where, linked with many a bridge, A thousand piers ran into the great Sea.
And Galahad fled along them bridge by bridge, And every bridge as quickly as he crost Sprang into fire and vanished, though I yearned To follow; and thrice above him all the heavens Opened and blazed with thunder such as seemed Shoutings of all the sons of God: O'er his head the Holy Vessel hung Redder than any rose, a joy to me, For now I knew the veil had been withdrawn.
I saw the spiritual city and all her spires And gateways in a glory like one pearl — No larger, though the goal of all the saints — Strike from the sea; and from the star there shot A rose-red sparkle to the city, and there Dwelt, and I knew it was the Holy Grail, Which never eyes on earth again shall see.
All men, to one so bound by such a vow, And women were as phantoms. I chanced upon a goodly town With one great dwelling in the middle of it; Thither I made, and there was I disarmed By maidens each as fair as any flower The Princess of that castle was the one, Brother, and that one only, who had ever Made my heart leap; for when I moved of old A slender page about her father's hall, And she a slender maiden, all my heart Went after her with longing: And now I came upon her once again, And one had wedded her, and he was dead, And all his land and wealth and state were hers.
We have heard of thee: Wed thou our Lady, and rule over us, And thou shalt be as Arthur in our land. I rose and fled, But wailed and wept, and hated mine own self, And even the Holy Quest, and all but her; Then after I was joined with Galahad Cared not for her, nor anything upon earth. Poor men, when yule is cold, Must be content to sit by little fires. O the pity To find thine own first love once more — to hold, Hold her a wealthy bride within thine arms, Or all but hold, and then — cast her aside, Foregoing all her sweetness, like a weed.
For we that want the warmth of double life, We that are plagued with dreams of something sweet Beyond all sweetness in a life so rich, — Ah, blessd Lord, I speak too earthlywise, Seeing I never strayed beyond the cell. I saw it;" and the tears were in his eyes. Our Arthur kept his best until the last; "Thou, too, my Lancelot," asked the king, "my friend, Our mightiest, hath this Quest availed for thee?
Then I spake To one most holy saint, who wept and said, That save they could be plucked asunder, all My quest were but in vain Forth I went, and while I yearned and strove To tear the twain asunder in my heart, My madness came upon me as of old, And whipt me into waste fields far away; There was I beaten down by little men, Mean knights, to whom the moving of my sword And shadow of my spear had been enow To scare them from me once.
Blessed are Bors, Lancelot and Percivale, For these have seen according to their sight. Blasted and burnt, and blinded as I was, With such a fierceness that I swooned away — O, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail, All palled in crimson samite, and around Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes.
And but for all my madness and my sin, And then my swooning, I had sworn I saw That which I saw; but what I saw was veiled And covered; and this Quest was not for me. Thy holy nun and thou have driven men mad, Yea, made our mightiest madder than our least.
But by mine eyes and by mine ears I swear, I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, To holy virgins in their ecstasies, Henceforward. Gawain to Arthur Deafer But if indeed there came a sign from heaven, Blessed are Bors, Lancelot and Percivale, For these have seen according to their sight.
For every fiery prophet in old times, And all the sacred madness of the bard, When God made music through them, could but speak His music by the framework and the chord; And as ye saw it ye have spoken truth. Let visions of the night or of the day come, as they will; and many a time they come, until this earth he walks on seems not earth, this light that strikes his eyeball is not light, this air that smites his forehead is not air but vision And spake I not too truly, O my knights?
Was I too dark a prophet when I said To those who went upon the Holy Quest, That most of them would follow wandering fires, Lost in the quagmire? And one hath had the vision face to face, And now his chair desires him here in vain, However they may crown him otherwhere. In moments when he feels he cannot die, and knows himself no vision to himself, nor the high God a vision, nor that One who rose again: Some among you held, that if the King Had seen the sight he would have sworn the vow: Not easily, seeing that the King must guard That which he rules, and is but as the hind To whom a space of land is given to plow.
Who may not wander from the allotted field Before his work be done; but, being done, Let visions of the night or of the day Come, as they will; and many a time they come, Until this earth he walks on seems not earth, This light that strikes his eyeball is not light, This air that smites his forehead is not air But vision — yea, his very hand and foot — In moments when he feels he cannot die, And knows himself no vision to himself, Nor the high God a vision, nor that One Who rose again: So spake the King: I knew not all he meant.
Pelleas and Ettarre[ edit ] As the base man, judging of the good, puts his own baseness in him by default of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend all the young beauty of his own soul to hers While he gazed The beauty of her flesh abashed the boy, As though it were the beauty of her soul: For as the base man, judging of the good, Puts his own baseness in him by default Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend All the young beauty of his own soul to hers She muttered, "I have lighted on a fool, Raw, yet so stale!
Pelleas looked Noble among the noble, for he dreamed His lady loved him, and he knew himself Loved of the King: Then rang the shout his lady loved: So for the last time she was gracious to him. Said Guinevere, "We marvel at thee much, O damsel, wearing this unsunny face To him who won thee glory! I cannot bide Sir Baby.
Keep him back Among yourselves.
Idylls of the King, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Would rather that we had Some rough old knight who knew the worldly way, Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride And jest with: And when she gained her castle, upsprang the bridge, Down rang the grate of iron through the groove, And he was left alone in open field. Yea, let her prove me to the uttermost, For loyal to the uttermost am I.
Then calling her three knights, she charged them, "Out! And drive him from the walls. Thereon her wrath became a hate; and once, A week beyond, while walking on the walls With her three knights, she pointed downward, "Look, He haunts me — I cannot breathe — besieges me; Down! Then when he came before Ettarre, the sight Of her rich beauty made him at one glance More bondsman in his heart than in his bonds.
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Yet with good cheer he spake, "Behold me, Lady, A prisoner, and the vassal of thy will; And if thou keep me in thy donjon here, Content am I so that I see thy face But once a day: Unbind him now, And thrust him out of doors; for save he be Fool to the midmost marrow of his bones, He will return no more. And after this, a week beyond, again She called them, saying, "There he watches yet, There like a dog before his master's door!
Are ye but creatures of the board and bed, No men to strike? Fall on him all at once, And if ye slay him I reck not: It may be ye shall slay him in his bonds. And Pelleas overthrew them, one to three; And they rose up, and bound, and brought him in. Then first her anger, leaving Pelleas, burned Full on her knights in many an evil name Of craven, weakling, and thrice-beaten hound Lady, for indeed I loved you and I deemed you beautiful, I cannot brook to see your beauty marred Through evil spite: I had liefer ye were worthy of my love, Than to be loved again of you — farewell; And though ye kill my hope, not yet my love, Vex not yourself: While thus he spake, she gazed upon the man Of princely bearing, though in bonds, and thought, "Why have I pushed him from me?
I deemed him fool? He is not of my kind. He could not love me, did he know me well. Nay, let him go — and quickly. A rose, but one, none other rose had I, A rose, one rose, and this was wondrous fair, One rose, a rose that gladdened earth and sky, One rose, my rose, that sweetened all mine air — I cared not for the thorns; the thorns were there.
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One rose, a rose to gather by and by, One rose, a rose, to gather and to wear, No rose but one — what other rose had I? One rose, my rose; a rose that will not die, — He dies who loves it, — if the worm be there. Let the fox bark, let the wolf yell. Who yells Here in the still sweet summer night, but I — I, the poor Pelleas whom she called her fool? Fool, beast — he, she, or I? Or art thou mazed with dreams?
Then fared it with Sir Pelleas as with one Who gets a wound in battle, and the sword That made it plunges through the wound again, And pricks it deeper: If I, the Queen, May help them, loose thy tongue, and let me know. Then a long silence came upon the hall, And Modred thought, "The time is hard at hand. The Last Tournament[ edit ] All the ways were safe from shore to shore, but in the heart of Arthur pain was lord.
Strength of heart And might of limb, but mainly use and skill, Are winners in this pastime. Into the hall staggered, his visage ribbed From ear to ear with dogwhip-weals, his nose Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one hand off, And one with shattered fingers dangling lame, A churl, to whom indignantly the King, "My churl, for whom Christ died, what evil beast Hath drawn his claws athwart thy face? Man was it who marred heaven's image in thee thus?
The woods are hushed, their music is no more: The leaf is dead, the yearning past away: New leaf, new life — the days of frost are o'er: New life, new love, to suit the newer day: New loves are sweet as those that went before: Free love — free field — we love but while we may. I made it in the woods, And heard it ring as true as tested gold.
I have had my day. My brother fool, the king of fools! Conceits himself as God that he can make Figs out of thistles, silk from bristles, milk From burning spurge, honey from hornet-combs, And men from beasts — Long live the king of fools! So all the ways were safe from shore to shore, But in the heart of Arthur pain was lord.
What rights are his that dare not strike for them? Her beauty is her beauty, and thine thine, And thine is more to me — soft, gracious, kind Softly laughed Isolt; "Flatter me not, for hath not our great Queen My dole of beauty trebled? If this be sweet, to sin in leading-strings, If here be comfort, and if ours be sin, Crowned warrant had we for the crowning sin That made us happy: Tristram, ever dallying with her hand, "May God be with thee, sweet, when old and gray, And past desire!
The greater man, the greater courtesy. The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself — My knighthood taught me this — ay, being snapt — We run more counter to the soul thereof Than had we never sworn. I swear no more. How darest thou, if lover, push me even In fancy from thy side, and set me far In the gray distance, half a life away, Her to be loved no more?
Flatter me rather, seeing me so weak, Broken with Mark and hate and solitude, Thy marriage and mine own, that I should suck Lies like sweet wines: Will ye not lie? They lied not then, who sware, and through their vows The King prevailing made his realm: Then Tristram, pacing moodily up and down, "Vows! Nay, but learnt, The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself — My knighthood taught me this — ay, being snapt — We run more counter to the soul thereof Than had we never sworn.
I swore to the great King, and am forsworn. For once — even to the height — I honoured him. Bind me to one? The wide world laughs at it. An open kitchen flaunts a massive wood-fired grill and rotisserie, which sear a dizzying array of heritage meats and seafood to pair with an impressive raw bar and small plates.Lancelot feat. Antony & Cleopatra - Givin' It Up
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