ALFRE D TE NNY SO N , ILLUSTRATE D BY G U S T A V E D O R E . ionhon R D M O ! O N V STRE E T DO E R , 1 868 . T I L L U ST R A I O N S . L ! W P L YNI O S O S RIN CE GE RAINT H I S RUIN ED CAST E . E N I D AN D TH E CO UNTESS . E DY RN WITH H IS LADY AN D DWARF JO URN EY TO A ’ RTH U R S CO URT . B GERAINT C HARGES TH E AN D ITS . GE RAIN T AN D E N ID I N TH E M EADOW. T ! E FL I G HT O F TH E BOO N CO M PAN ION S O F E ARL L I M O U RS . E N I D TEN D S GE RAI NT . E R IN SL Y S E L D G A T A AR O O RM . G ERAI NT AN D E NI D RI DE AWAY . N D E I . ’ T ! E brave Geraint , a knight of Arthur s court , A o f D o n e tributary prince evon , o f Of that great order the Table Round , ’ Y n io l S H ad married Enid , only child , o f And loved her, as he loved the light H eaven . o f And as the light Heaven varies , now At n o w sunrise , at sunset , now by night s o With moon and trembling stars , loved Geraint T o make her beauty vary day by day, I n crimsons and in purples and in gems . ’ And Enid , but to please her husband s eye , Who first had found and loved her in a state B In some fresh Splendour ; and the Queen herself, Grateful to Prince Geraint for service done , Loved her, and often with her own White hands ’ ’ Arra d de ck d y and her, as the loveliest , o wn . Next after her self, in all the court And Enid loved the Queen , and with true heart Adored her, as the stateliest and the best f And loveliest o all women upon earth . s o s o And seeing them tender and close , Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint . But when a rumour rose about the Queen , Touching her guilty love for Lancelot , ’ Tho yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard ’ The world s loud whisper breaking into storm , No t less Geraint believed it ; and there fell A horror on him , lest his gentle wife , ’ fo r Thro that great tenderness Guinevere , ’ suffe r d H ad , or should suffer any taint : I n nature Wherefore going to the king , H e made this pretext , that his princedom lay o n Close the borders of a territory , a Wherein were b ndit earls , and caitiff knights , Assassins , and all flyers from the hand Of Justice , and whatever loathes a law And therefore , till the king himself Should please o f To cleanse this common sewer all his realm , He craved a fair permission to depart , And there defend his marches ; and the king fo r Mused a little on his plea , but , last , Allowing it , the Prince and Enid rode , And fifty knights rode with them , to the shores o wn Of Severn , and they past to their land ; w a s Where , thinking, that if ever yet wife s o True to her lord , mine shall be to me , ’ H e c o mp a ss d her with sweet Observances f Forgetful o his promise to the king, o f Forgetful the falcon and the hunt , r tfu l o f t Fo ge the tilt and tournamen , o f Forgetful his glory and his name , Forgetful of his princedom and its cares . And this forgetfulness was hateful to her. And by and by the people , When they met I n o r twos and threes , fuller companies , Began to scoff and jeer and babble o f him AS was of a prince Whose manhood all gone , And molten down in mere uxoriousness . ’ ’ And this sh e gath e r d from the people s eyes wh o This too the women attired her head , T o please her, dwelling on his boundless love , ’ s a dde n d Told Enid , and they her the more And day by day She thought to tell Geraint , But could not out o f bashful delicacy ; EN I D . ’ watch d While he that her sadden , was the more Suspicious that her nature had a taint . At last , it chanced that on a summer morn !They sleeping each by other! the new s un ’ Beat thro the blindless casement of the room , And heated the strong warrior in his dreams ; Who , moving, cast the coverlet aside , And bared the knotted column of his throat , The massive square of his heroic breast , And arms on which the standing muscle Sloped , ’ AS o e r Slopes a Wild brook a little stone , Running too vehemently to break upon it . s at And Enid woke and beside the couch , Admiring him , and thought within herself, Was ever man s o grandly m ade as he ? ’ Then , like a Shadow , past the people s talk And accusation of uxoriousness c Low to her own heart piteously she said ‘ - O noble breast and all puissant arms , Am I the cause , I the poor cause that men ? Reproach you , saying all your force is gone I am the cause because I dare not speak And tell him what I think and what they say . And yet I hate that he should linger here ; I cannot love my lord and not his name . Far liever had I gird his harness on him , And ride with him to battle and stand by, And watch his mightful hand striking great blows At caitiffs and at wrongers of the world . Far better were I laid in the dark earth , Not hearing any more his noble voice , Not to be folded more in these dear arms , ’ darke n d And from the high light in his eyes , ENID . ’ ff Than that my lord thro me Should su er shame . s o Am I so bold , and could I stand by, And see my dear lord wounded in the strife , Or may be pierced to death before mine eyes , And yet not dare to tell him what I think , And how men Slur him , saying all his force ' I s melted into mere eflemin acy ? ’ 0 . me , I fear that I am no true wife sh e Half inwardly, half audibly Spoke , And the strong passion in her made her weep True tears upon his broad and naked breast , And these awoke him , and by great mischance He heard but fragments of her later words , ’ And that sh e fe ar d She was not a true Wife . ‘ o f And then he thought , I n Spite all my care , Fo r all my pains , poor man , for all my pains , ’ a n d I see She is not faithful to me , her 8 ENID . ’ ’ Weeping for some gay knight in Arthur s hall . ’ Then tho he loved and reverenced her t o o much s h e o f To dream could be guilty foul act , Right thro ’ his manful breast darted the pang That makes a man , in the sweet face of her Whom he loves most , lonely and miserable . ’ h u rl d o ut o f At this he his huge limbs bed , And shook his drowsy squire awake and cried , ’ My charger and her palfrey , then to her, ‘ I will ride forth into the wilderness ; ’ th o win For it seems my Spurs are yet to , ’ fall n I have not s o low as some would wish . o n And you , put your worst and meanest dress ’ ’ . a sk d And ride with me And Enid , amazed , ‘ ’ If Enid errs , let Enid learn her fault . ‘ ’ But he , I charge you , ask not but obey . She o f Then bethought her a faded Silk, A faded mantle and a faded veil , And moving toward a cedarn cabinet , Wherein s h e kept them folded reverently o f With sprigs summer laid between the folds , ’ arra d She took them , and y herself therein , Remembering when first he came o n her D rest in that dress , and how he loved her in it , And all her foolish fears about the dress , to And all his journey her, as himself H ad told her , and their coming to the court . Fo r Arthur o n the Whitsuntide before o ld Held court at Caerleon upon Usk . o n There a day, he sitting high in hall , o f D Before him came a forester ean , o f Wet from the woods , with notice a hart - Taller than all his fellows , milky white , First seen that day : these things he told the Then the good king gave order to let blow D ’ And when the Queen petitio n d for his leave ’ allo w d . To see the hunt , it easily So with the morning all the court were gone . m o m But Guinevere lay late into the , o f Lost in sweet dreams , and dreaming her love Fo r o f Lancelot , and forgetful the hunt ; But rose at last , a Single maiden with her, ’ ain d Took horse , and forded Usk , and g the wood ; ’ s ta d There , on a little knoll beside it , y Waiting to hear the hounds ; but heard instead A sudden sound of hoofs , for Prince Geraint , - Late also , wearing neither hunting dress - N or weapon , save a golden hilted brand , Came quickly flashing thro ’ the shallow ford ll ’ s o a o d .