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    Chapter 16

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    Chapter 16
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    WHEN Sir Bohort departed from Camelot he met with a religious man,
    riding upon an ass; and Sir Bohort saluted him. "What are ye?" said
    the good man. "Sir," said Sir Bohort, "I am a knight that fain would
    be counselled in the quest of the Sangreal." So rode they both
    together till they came to a hermitage; and there he prayed Sir Bohort
    to dwell that night with him. So he alighted, and put away his
    armor, and prayed him that he might be confessed. And they went both
    into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed. And they ate
    bread and drank water together. "Now," said the good man, "I pray thee
    that thou eat none other till thou sit at the table where the Sangreal
    shall be." "Sir," said Sir Bohort, "but how know ye that I shall sit
    there?" "Yea," said the good man "that I know well; but there shall be
    few of your fellows with you." Then said Sir Bohort, "I agree me
    thereto." And the good man, when he had heard his confession, found
    him in so pure a life and so stable that he marvelled thereof.
    On the morrow, as soon as the day appeared, Sir Bohort departed
    thence, and rode into a forest unto the hour of midday. And there
    befell him a marvellous adventure. For he met, at the parting of two
    ways, two knights that led Sir Lionel, his brother, all naked, bound
    upon a strong hackney, and his hands bound before his breast; and each
    of them held in his hand thorns wherewith they went beating him, so
    that he was all bloody before and behind; but he said never a word,
    but, as he was great of heart, he suffered all that they did to him as
    though he had felt none anguish. Sir Bohort prepared to rescue his
    brother. But he looked on the other side of him, and saw a knight
    dragging along a fair gentlewoman, who cried out, "Saint Mary!
    succor your maid!" And when she saw Sir Bohort, she called to him
    and said, "By the faith that ye owe to knighthood, help me!" When
    Sir Bohort heard her say thus, he had such sorrow that he wist not
    what to do. For if I let my brother be he must be slain, and that
    would I not for all the earth; and if I help not the maid I am
    shamed forever." Then lift he up his eyes and said, weeping, "Fair
    Lord, whose liegeman I am, keep Sir Lionel, my brother, that none of
    these knights slay him, and for pity of you, and our Lady's sake, I
    shall succor this maid."
    Then he cried out to the knight, "Sir knight, lay your hand off that
    maid, or else ye be but dead." Then the knight set down the maid,
    and took his shield, and drew out his sword. And Sir Bohort smote
    him so hard that it went through his shield and habergeon, on the left
    shoulder, and he fell down to the earth. Then came Sir Bohort to the
    maid, "Ye be delivered of this knight this time." "Now," said she,
    "I pray you lead me there where this knight took me." "I shall
    gladly do it," said Sir Bohort. So he took the horse of the wounded
    knight and set the gentlewoman upon it, and brought her there where
    she desired to be. And there he found twelve knights seeking after
    her; and when she told them how Sir Bohort had delivered her, they
    made great joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great
    lord, and he should be right welcome. "Truly," said Sir Bohort,
    "that may not be; for I have a great adventure to do." So he commended
    them to God and departed.
    Then Sir Bohort rode after Sir Lionel, his brother, by the trace
    of their horses. Thus he rode, seeking, a great while. Then he
    overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing, who said, "Sir knight,
    what seek ye?" "Sir," said Sir Bohort, "I seek my brother, that I
    saw within a little space beaten of two knights." "Ah, Sir Bohort,
    trouble not thyself to seek for him, for truly he is dead." Then he
    showed him a new-slain body, lying in a thick bush; and it seemed
    him that it was the body of Sir Lionel. And then he made such sorrow
    that he fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay there long. And when he
    came to himself again he said, "Fair brother, since the fellowship
    of you and me is sundered, shall I never have joy again; and now He
    that I have taken for my master He be my help!" And when he had said
    thus, he took up the body in his arms, and put it upon the horse.
    And then he said to the man, "Canst thou tell me the way to some
    chapel, where I may bury this body?" "Come on," said the man, "here is
    one fast by." And so they rode till they saw a fair tower, and
    beside it a chapel. Then they alighted both, and put the body into a
    tomb of marble.
    Then Sir Bohort commended the good man unto God, and departed. And
    he rode all that day, and harbored with an old lady. And on the morrow
    he rode unto the castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman.
    "Tell me," said Sir Bohort, "knowest thou of any adventure?" "Sir,"
    said he, "here shall be, under this castle, a great and marvellous
    tournament." Then Sir Bohort thought to be there, if he might meet
    with any of the fellowship that were in quest of the Sangreal; so he
    turned to a hermitage that was on the border of the forest. And when
    he was come thither, he found there Sir Lionel his brother, who sat
    all armed at the entry of the chapel door. And when Sir Bohort saw
    him, he had great joy, and he alighted off his horse, and said,
    "Fair brother, when came ye hither?" As soon as Sir Lionel saw him, he
    said, "Ah, Sir Bohort, make ye no false show, for, as for you, I might
    have been slain, for ye left me in peril of death to go succor a
    gentlewoman; and for that misdeed I now insure you but death, for ye
    have right well deserved it." When Sir Bohort perceived his
    brother's wrath, he kneeled down to the earth and cried him mercy,
    holding up both his hands, and prayed him to forgive him. "Nay,"
    said Sir Lionel, "thou shalt have but death for it, if I have the
    upper hand; therefore leap upon thy horse and keep thyself; and if
    thou do not, I will run upon thee there, as thou standest on foot, and
    so the shame shall be mine, and the harm thine, but of that I reck
    not." When Sir Bohort saw that he must fight with his brother or
    else die, he wist not what to do. Then his heart counselled him not so
    to do, inasmuch as Sir Lionel was his elder brother, wherefore he
    ought to bear him reverence. Yet kneeled he down before Sir Lionel's
    horse's feet, and said, "Fair brother, have mercy upon me, and slay me
    not." But Sir Lionel cared not, for the fiend had brought him in
    such a will that he should slay him. When he saw that Sir Bohort would
    not rise to give him battle, he rushed over him, so that he smote
    him with his horse's feet to the earth, and hurt him sore, that he
    swooned of distress. When Sir Lionel saw this, he alighted from his
    horse for to have smitten off his head; and so he took him by the
    helm, and would have rent it from his head. But it happened that Sir
    Colgrevance, a knight of the Round Table, came at that time thither,
    as it was our Lord's will; and then he beheld how Sir Lionel would
    have slain his brother, and he knew Sir Bohort, whom he loved right
    well. Then leapt he down from his horse, and took Sir Lionel by the
    shoulders, and drew him strongly back from Sir Bohort, and said,
    "Sir Lionel, will ye slay your brother?" "Why," said Sir Lionel, "will
    ye slay me? If ye interfere in this, I will slay you, and him
    after." Then he ran upon Sir Bohort, and would have smitten him; but
    Sir Colgrevance ran between them, and said, "If ye persist to do so
    any more, we two shall meddle together." Then Sir Lionel defied him,
    and gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he drew his
    sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended himself right
    manfully. So long endured the battle, that Sir Bohort rose up all
    anguishly, and beheld Sir Colgrevance, the good knight, fight with his
    brother for his quarrel. Then was he full sorry and heavy, and thought
    that, if Sir Colgrevance slew him that was his brother, he should
    never have joy, and if his brother slew Sir Colgrevance, the shame
    should ever be his.
    Then would he have risen for to have parted them, but he had not
    so much strength to stand on his feet; so he staid so long that Sir
    Colgrevance had the worse, for Sir Lionel was of great chivalry and
    right hardy. Then cried Sir Colgrevance, "Ah, Sir Bohort, why come
    ye not to bring me out of peril of death, wherein I have put me to
    succor you?" With that, Sir Lionel smote off his helm, and bore him to
    the earth. And when he had slain Sir Colgrevance, he ran upon his
    brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke that he made
    him stoop. And he that was full of humility prayed him, "For God's
    sake leave this battle, for if it befell, fair brother, that I slew
    you, or ye me, we should be dead of that sin." "Pray ye not me for
    mercy," said Sir Lionel. Then Sir Bohort, all weeping, drew his sword,
    and said, "Now God have mercy upon me, though I defend my life against
    my brother." With that Sir Bohort lifted up his sword, and would
    have stricken his brother. Then heard he a voice that said, "Flee, Sir
    Bohort, and touch him not." Right so alighted a cloud between them, in
    the likeness of a fire, and a marvellous flame, so that they both fell
    to the earth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. And when they
    came to themselves, Sir Bohort saw that his brother had no harm; and
    he was right glad, for he dread sore that God had taken vengeance upon
    him. Then Sir Lionel said to his brother, "Brother, forgive me, for
    God's sake, all that I have trespassed against you." And Sir Bohort
    answered, "God forgive it thee, and I do."
    With that Sir Bohort heard a voice say, "Sir Bohort, take thy way
    anon, right to the sea, for Sir Perceval abideth thee there." So Sir
    Bohort departed, and rode the nearest way to the sea. And at last he
    came to an abbey that was nigh the sea. That night he rested him
    there, and in his sleep there came a voice unto him and bade him go to
    the sea-shore. He started up, and made the sign of the cross on his
    forehead, and armed himself and made ready his horse and mounted
    him, and at a broken wall he rode out, and came to the sea-shore.
    And there he found a ship, covered all with white samite. And he
    entered into the ship; but it was anon so dark that he might see no
    man, and he laid him down and slept till it was day. Then he awaked,
    and saw in the middle of the ship a knight all armed, save his helm.
    And then he knew it was Sir Perceval de Galis, and each made of
    other right great joy. Then said Sir Perceval, "We lack nothing now
    but the good knight Sir Galahad."


    It befell upon a night Sir Launcelot arrived before a castle,
    which was rich and fair. And there was a postern that opened toward
    the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the
    entry; and the moon shined clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice
    that said, "Launcelot, enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a
    great part of thy desire." So he went unto the gate, and saw the two
    lions; then he set hands to his sword, and drew it. Then there came
    suddenly as it were a stroke upon the arm, so sore that the sword fell
    out of his hand, and he heard a voice that said, "O man of evil faith,
    wherefore believest thou more in thy armor than in thy Maker?" Then
    said Sir Launcelot, "Fair Lord, I thank thee of thy great mercy,
    that thou reprovest me of my misdeed; now see I well that thou holdest
    me for thy servant." Then he made a cross on his forehead, and came to
    the lions; and they made semblance to do him harm, but he passed
    them without hurt, and entered into the castle, and he found no gate
    nor door but it was open. But at the last he found a chamber whereof
    the door was shut; and he set his hand thereto, to have opened it, but
    he might not. Then he listened, and heard a voice which sung so
    sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and the voice said, "Joy
    and honor be to the Father of heaven." Then Sir Launcelot kneeled down
    before the chamber, for well he wist that there was the Sangreal in
    that chamber. Then said he, "Fair, sweet Lord, if ever I did
    anything that pleased thee for thy pity show me something of that
    which I seek." And with that he saw the chamber door open, and there
    came out a great clearness, that the house was as bright as though all
    the torches of the world had been there. So he came to the chamber
    door, and would have entered; and anon a voice said unto him, "Stay,
    Sir Launcelot, and enter not." And he withdrew him back, and was right
    heavy in his mind. Then looked he in the midst of the chamber, and saw
    a table of silver, and the holy vessel, covered with red samite, and
    many angels about it; whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and
    another held a cross, and the ornaments of the altar. Then, for very
    wonder and thankfulness, Sir Launcelot forgot himself, and he
    stepped forward and entered the chamber. And suddenly a breath that
    seemed intermixed with fire smote him so sore in the visage, that
    therewith he fell to the ground, and had no power to rise. Then felt
    he many hands about him, which took him up, and bare him out of the
    chamber, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there,
    seeming dead to all the people. So on the morrow, when it was fair
    daylight, and they within were arisen, they found Sir Launcelot
    lying before the chamber door. And they looked upon him and felt his
    pulse, to know it there were any life in him. And they found life in
    him, but he might neither stand nor stir any member that he had. So
    they took him and bare him into a chamber, and laid him upon a bed,
    far from all folk, and there he lay many days. Then the one said he
    was alive, and others said nay. But said an old man, "He is as full of
    life as the mightiest of you all, and therefore I counsel you that
    he be well kept till God bring him back again." And after
    twenty-four days he opened his eyes; and when he saw folk, he made
    great sorrow, and said, "Why have ye wakened me? for I was better at
    ease than I am now." "What have ye seen?" said they about him. "I have
    seen," said he, "great marvels that no tongue can tell, and more
    than any heart can think." Then they said, "Sir, the quest of the
    Sangreal is achieved right now in you, and never shall ye see more
    of it than ye have seen." "I thank God," said Sir Launcelot, "of His
    great mercy, for that I have seen, for it sufficeth me." Then he
    rose up and clothed himself; and when he was so arrayed, they
    marvelled all, for they knew it was Sir Launcelot, the good knight.
    And, after four days, he took his leave of the lord of the castle, and
    of all the fellowship that were there, and thanked them for their
    great labor and care of him. Then he departed, and turned to
    Camelot, where he found King Arthur and Queen Guenever; but many of
    the knights of the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more than
    half. Then all the court was passing glad of Sir Launcelot; and he
    told the king all his adventures that had befallen him since he


    Now when Sir Galahad had rescued Perceval from the twenty knights,
    he rode into a vast forest, wherein he abode many days. Then he took
    his way to the sea, and it befell him that he was benighted in a
    hermitage. And the good man was glad when he saw he was a
    knight-errant. And when they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman
    knocking at the door; and the good man came to the door to wit what
    she would. Then she said, "I would speak with the knight which is with
    you." Then Galahad went to her, and asked her what she would. "Sir
    Galahad," said she, "I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your
    horse, and follow me; for I will show you the highest adventure that
    ever knight saw." Then Galahad armed himself and commended himself
    to God, and bade the damsel go before, and he would follow where she
    So she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till she came
    to the sea; and there they found the ship where Sir Bohort and Sir
    Perceval were, who cried from the ship, "Sir Galahad, you are welcome;
    we have awaited you long," And when he heard them, he asked the damsel
    who they were. "Sir," said she, "leave your horse here, and I shall
    leave mine, and we will join ourselves to their company." So they
    entered the ship, and the two knights received them both with great
    joy. For they knew the damsel, that she was Sir Perceval's sister.
    Then the wind arose and drove them through the sea all that day and
    the next, till the ship arrived between two rocks, passing great and
    marvellous; but there they might not land, for there was a
    whirlpool; but there was another ship, and upon it they might go
    without danger. "Go we thither," said the gentlewoman, and there shall
    we see adventures, for such is our Lord's will." Then Sir Galahad
    blessed him, and entered therein, and then next the gentlewoman, and
    then Sir Bohort and Sir Perceval. And when they came on board, they
    found there the table of silver, and the Sangreal, which was covered
    with red samite. And they made great reverence thereto, and Sir
    Galahad prayed a long time to our Lord, that at what time he should
    ask to pass out of this world, he should do so; and a voice said to
    him, "Galahad, thou shalt have thy request; and when thou askest the
    death of thy body thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the
    life of thy soul.
    And anon the wind drove them across the sea, till they came to the
    city of Sarras. Then they took our of the ship the table of silver,
    and he took it to Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort to go before, and Sir
    Galahad came behind, and right so they came to the city, and at the
    gate of the city they saw an old man, crooked. Then Sir Galahad called
    him and bade him help bear this heavy thing. "Truly," said the old
    man, "it is ten years ago that I might not go save with crutches."
    "Care thou not," said Sir Galahad, "but arise up and show thy good
    will." And so he assayed and found himself as whole as ever he was.
    Then ran he to the table and took one part against Sir Galahad. And
    anon arose there a great noise in the city, that a cripple was made
    whole by knights marvellous that entered into the city. Then anon
    after, the three knights went to the water, and brought up into the
    palace Sir Perceval's sister. And when the king of the city, which was
    cleped Estorause, saw the fellowship, he asked them of whence they
    were, and what thing it was they had brought upon the table of silver.
    And they told him the truth of the Sangreal, and the power which God
    had set there. Then the king was a tyrant, and was come of the line of
    Paynims, and took them and put them in prison in a deep hole.
    But as soon as they were there, our Lord sent them the Sangreal,
    through whose grace they were always filled while that they were in
    prison. So at the year's end it befell that this king Estorause lay
    sick, and felt that he should die. Then he sent for the three knights,
    and they came afore him, and he cried them mercy of that he had done
    to them, and they forgave it him goodly, and he died anon. When the
    king was dead, all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be
    their king. Right so they were in council, there came a voice among
    them, and bade them choose the youngest knight of them three to be
    their king, "for he shall well maintain you and all yours." So they
    made Sir Galahad king by all the assent of the whole city, and else
    they would have slain him. And when he was come to behold the land, he
    had made about the table of silver a chest of gold and of precious
    stones that covered the holy vessel, and every day early the three
    fellows would come afore it and make their prayers. Now at the
    year's end, and the next day after Sir Galahad had borne the crown
    of gold, he rose up early, and his fellows, and came to the palace,
    and saw before them the holy vessel, and a man kneeling on his
    knees, in likeness of a bishop, that had about him a great
    fellowship of angels, as it had been Jesus Christ himself. And then he
    arose and began a mass of Our Lady. And when he came to the
    sacrament of the mass, and had done, anon he called Sir Galahad, and
    said to him, "Come forth, the servant of Jesus Christ, and thou
    shalt see that thou hast much desired to see." And then he began to
    tremble right hard, when the deadly flesh began to behold the
    spiritual things. Then he held up his hands toward heaven, and said,
    "Lord, I thank thee. for now I see that that hath been my desire
    many a day. Now. blessed Lord. would I not longer live; if it might
    please thee, Lord." And therewith the good man took our Lord's body
    betwixt his hands and proffered it to Sir Galahad, and he received
    it right gladly and meekly. "Now, wottest thou what I am?" said the
    good man. "Nay," said Sir Galahad. "I am Joseph of Arimathea, which
    our Lord hath sent here to bear thee fellowship. And wottest thou
    wherefore that he hath sent me more than any other? For thou hast
    resembled me in two things, in that thou hast seen the marvels of
    the Sangreal, and in that thou hast been a clean maiden as I have been
    and am." And when he had said these words Sir Galahad went to Sir
    Perceval and kissed him, and commended him to God. And so he went to
    Sir Bohort and kissed him, and commended him to God, and said, "Fair
    lord, salute me to my lord Sir Launcelot, my father, and as soon as ye
    see him bid him remember of this unstable world." And therewith he
    kneeled down before the table and made his prayers, and then
    suddenly his soul departed to Jesus Christ, and a great multitude of
    angels bare his soul up to heaven, that the two fellows might well
    behold it. Also the two fellows saw come from heaven a hand, but
    they saw not the body; and then it came right to the vessel, and
    took it and the spear, and so bare it up to heaven. Sithen there was
    never man so hardy to say that he had seen the Sangreal.
    When Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort saw Sir Galahad dead they made as
    much sorrow as ever did two men; and if they had not been good men
    they might lightly have fallen into despair. And the people of the
    country and of the city were right heavy. And then he was buried.
    And as soon as he was buried Sir Perceval yielded him to an
    hermitage out of the city, and took a religious clothing; and Sir
    Bohort was always with him, but never changed he his secular clothing,
    for that he purposed to go again into the realm of Loegria. Thus a
    year and two months lived Sir Perceval in the hermitage a full holy
    life, and then he passed out of this world. And Sir Bohort let bury
    him by his sister and by Sir Galahad.
    And when Sir Bohort saw that he was in so far countries as in the
    parts of Babylon, he departed from Sarras, and armed him, and came
    to the sea, and entered into a ship, and so it befell him in good
    adventure he came into the realm of Loegria. And he rode so fast
    till he came to Camelot, where the king was. And then was there
    great joy made of him in the court, for they wend all he had been
    dead, forasmuch as he had been so long out of the country. And when
    they had eaten, the king made great clerks to come afore him, that
    they should chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. Then
    Sir Bohort told him of the adventures of the Sangreal, such as had
    befallen him and his three fellows, that was Sir Launcelot, Sir
    Perceval, and Sir Galahad. Then Sir Launcelot told the adventures of
    the Sangreal that he had seen. All this was made in great books, and
    put in almeries in Salisbury. And anon Sir Bohort said to Sir
    Launcelot, "Galahad, your own son, saluted you by me, and after you
    King Arthur, and all the court, and so did Sir Perceval; for I
    buried them with mine own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir
    Launcelot, Galahad prayeth you to remember of this uncertain world, as
    ye behight him when ye were together more than half a year." "This
    is true," said Sir Launcelot; "now I trust to God his prayer shall
    avail me." Then Sir Launcelot took Sir Bohort in his arms, and said,
    "Gentle cousin, ye are right welcome to me, and all that ever I may do
    for you and for yours, ye shall find my poor body ready at all times
    whiles the spirit is in it, and that I promise you faithfully, and
    never to fail. And wit ye well, gentle cousin Sir Bohort, that ye
    and I will never part in sunder whilst our lives may last." "Sir,"
    said he, "I will as ye will."
    Thus endeth the history of the Sangreal, which is a story chronicled
    as one of the truest and holiest that is in this world.

    Tennyson has among his shorter poems one on Sir Galahad which we add
    as being the conception of this purest of knights held by the poet who
    has loved best of all English poets the old stories of the Knights
    of the Round Table:-


    "My good blade carves the casques of men,
    My tough lance thrusteth sure,
    My strength is as the strength of ten,
    Because my heart is pure.
    The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
    The hard brands shiver on the steel,
    The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly,
    The horse and rider reel:
    They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
    And when the tide of combat stands,
    Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
    That lightly rain from ladies' hands

    "How sweet are looks that ladies bend
    On whom their favors fall!
    For them I battle to the end,
    To save from shame and thrall:
    But all my heart is drawn above,
    My knees are bound in crypt and shrine:
    I never felt the kiss of love,
    Nor maiden's hand in mine.
    More bounteous aspects on me beam,
    Me mightier transports move and thrill;
    So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer,
    A virgin heart in work and will.

    "When down the stormy crescent goes,
    A light before me swims,
    Between dark stems the forest glows,
    I hear a noise of hymns:
    Then by some secret shrine I ride;
    I hear a voice, but none are there;
    The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
    The tapers burning fair.
    Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
    The silver vessels sparkle clean,
    The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
    And solemn chants resound between.

    "Sometimes on lonely mountain meres
    I find a magic bark;
    I leap on board; no helmsman steers:
    I float till all is dark,
    A gentle sound, an awful light!
    Three angels bear the holy Grail:
    With folded feet, in stoles of white,
    On sleeping wings they sail.
    Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
    My spirit beats her mortal bars,
    As down dark tides the glory slides
    And star-like mingles with the stars.

    "When on my goodly charger borne
    Thro' dreaming towns I go,
    The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
    The streets are dumb with snow.
    The tempest crackles on the leads,
    And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
    But o'er the dark a glory spreads
    And gilds the driving hail.
    I leave the plain, I climb the height;
    No branchy thicket shelter yields;
    But blessed forms in whisking storms
    Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

    "A maiden knight- to me is given
    Such hope, I know not fear;
    I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
    That often meet me here.
    I muse on joy that will not cease,
    Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
    Pure lilies of eternal peace,
    Whose odors haunt my dreams;
    And stricken by an angel's hand,
    This mortal armour that I wear,
    This weight and rise, this heart and eyes,
    Are touched, are turned to finest air.

    "The clouds are broken in the sky,
    And thro' the mountain-walls
    A rolling organ-harmony
    Swells up, and shakes and falls.
    Then move the trees, the copses nod,
    Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
    O just and faithful knight of God!
    Ride on! the prize is near!
    So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
    By hedge and ford, by park and pale,
    All armed I ride, whate'er betide,
    Until I find the holy Grail."

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