And when she came to Almesbury she spake There to the nuns,and said,'Mine enemies Pursue me,but,O peaceful Sisterhood,Receive,and yield me sanctuary,nor ask Her name to whom ye yield it,till her time To tell you:'and her beauty,grace and power,Wrought as a charm upon them,and they spared To ask it.
So the stately Queen abode For many a week,unknown,among the nuns;Nor with them mixed,nor told her name,nor sought,Wrapt in her grief,for housel or for shrift,But communed only with the little maid,Who pleased her with a babbling heedlessness Which often lured her from herself;but now,This night,a rumour wildly blown about Came,that Sir Modred had usurped the realm,And leagued him with the heathen,while the King Was waging war on Lancelot:then she thought,'With what a hate the people and the King Must hate me,'and bowed down upon her hands Silent,until the little maid,who brooked No silence,brake it,uttering,'Late!so late!
What hour,I wonder,now?'and when she drew No answer,by and by began to hum An air the nuns had taught her;'Late,so late!'
Which when she heard,the Queen looked up,and said,'O maiden,if indeed ye list to sing,Sing,and unbind my heart that I may weep.'
Whereat full willingly sang the little maid.
'Late,late,so late!and dark the night and chill!
Late,late,so late!but we can enter still.
Too late,too late!ye cannot enter now.
'No light had we:for that we do repent;
And learning this,the bridegroom will relent.
Too late,too late!ye cannot enter now.
'No light:so late!and dark and chill the night!
O let us in,that we may find the light!
Too late,too late:ye cannot enter now.
'Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet?
O let us in,though late,to kiss his feet!
No,no,too late!ye cannot enter now.'
So sang the novice,while full passionately,Her head upon her hands,remembering Her thought when first she came,wept the sad Queen.
Then said the little novice prattling to her,'O pray you,noble lady,weep no more;But let my words,the words of one so small,Who knowing nothing knows but to obey,And if I do not there is penance given--Comfort your sorrows;for they do not flow From evil done;right sure am I of that,Who see your tender grace and stateliness.
But weigh your sorrows with our lord the King's,And weighing find them less;for gone is he To wage grim war against Sir Lancelot there,Round that strong castle where he holds the Queen;And Modred whom he left in charge of all,The traitor--Ah sweet lady,the King's grief For his own self,and his own Queen,and realm,Must needs be thrice as great as any of ours.
For me,I thank the saints,I am not great.
For if there ever come a grief to me I cry my cry in silence,and have done.
None knows it,and my tears have brought me good:
But even were the griefs of little ones As great as those of great ones,yet this grief Is added to the griefs the great must bear,That howsoever much they may desire Silence,they cannot weep behind a cloud:
As even here they talk at Almesbury About the good King and his wicked Queen,And were I such a King with such a Queen,Well might I wish to veil her wickedness,But were I such a King,it could not be.'
Then to her own sad heart muttered the Queen,'Will the child kill me with her innocent talk?'
But openly she answered,'Must not I,If this false traitor have displaced his lord,Grieve with the common grief of all the realm?'
'Yea,'said the maid,'this is all woman's grief,That she is woman,whose disloyal life Hath wrought confusion in the Table Round Which good King Arthur founded,years ago,With signs and miracles and wonders,there At Camelot,ere the coming of the Queen.'
Then thought the Queen within herself again,'Will the child kill me with her foolish prate?'
But openly she spake and said to her,'O little maid,shut in by nunnery walls,What canst thou know of Kings and Tables Round,Or what of signs and wonders,but the signs And simple miracles of thy nunnery?'
To whom the little novice garrulously,'Yea,but I know:the land was full of signs And wonders ere the coming of the Queen.
So said my father,and himself was knight Of the great Table--at the founding of it;And rode thereto from Lyonnesse,and he said That as he rode,an hour or maybe twain After the sunset,down the coast,he heard Strange music,and he paused,and turning--there,All down the lonely coast of Lyonnesse,Each with a beacon-star upon his head,And with a wild sea-light about his feet,He saw them--headland after headland flame Far on into the rich heart of the west:
And in the light the white mermaiden swam,And strong man-breasted things stood from the sea,And sent a deep sea-voice through all the land,To which the little elves of chasm and cleft Made answer,sounding like a distant horn.
So said my father--yea,and furthermore,Next morning,while he past the dim-lit woods,Himself beheld three spirits mad with joy Come dashing down on a tall wayside flower,That shook beneath them,as the thistle shakes When three gray linnets wrangle for the seed:
And still at evenings on before his horse The flickering fairy-circle wheeled and broke Flying,and linked again,and wheeled and broke Flying,for all the land was full of life.
And when at last he came to Camelot,A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-hand Swung round the lighted lantern of the hall;And in the hall itself was such a feast As never man had dreamed;for every knight Had whatsoever meat he longed for served By hands unseen;and even as he said Down in the cellars merry bloated things Shouldered the spigot,straddling on the butts While the wine ran:so glad were spirits and men Before the coming of the sinful Queen.'
Then spake the Queen and somewhat bitterly,'Were they so glad?ill prophets were they all,Spirits and men:could none of them foresee,Not even thy wise father with his signs And wonders,what has fallen upon the realm?'
