For here two brothers, one a king, had met And fought together; but their names were lost;And each had slain his brother at a blow;And down they fell and made the glen abhorr'd:
And there they lay till all their bones were bleach'd, And lichen'd into colour with the crags:
And he, that once was king, had on a crown Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside.
And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass, All in a misty moonshine, unawares Had trodden that crown'd skeleton, and the skull Brake from the nape, and from the skull the crown Roll'd into light, and turning on its rims Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn:
And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught, And set it on his head, and in his heart Heard murmurs, 'Lo, thou likewise shalt be King.'"The diamonds reappear in the scene of Guinevere's jealousy:-"All in an oriel on the summer side, Vine-clad, of Arthur's palace toward the stream, They met, and Lancelot kneeling utter'd, 'Queen, Lady, my liege, in whom I have my joy, Take, what I had not won except for you, These jewels, and make me happy, making them An armlet for the roundest arm on earth, Or necklace for a neck to which the swan's Is tawnier than her cygnet's: these are words:
Your beauty is your beauty, and I sin In speaking, yet O grant my worship of it Words, as we grant grief tears. Such sin in words, Perchance, we both can pardon: but, my Queen, I hear of rumours flying thro' your court.
Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife, Should have in it an absoluter trust To make up that defect: let rumours be:
When did not rumours fly? these, as I trust That you trust me in your own nobleness, I may not well believe that you believe.'
While thus he spoke, half turn'd away, the Queen Brake from the vast oriel-embowering vine Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast them off, Till all the place whereon she stood was green;Then, when he ceased, in one cold passive hand Received at once and laid aside the gems There on a table near her, and replied:
'It may be, I am quicker of belief Than you believe me, Lancelot of the Lake.
Our bond is not the bond of man and wife.
This good is in it, whatsoe'er of ill, It can be broken easier. I for you This many a year have done despite and wrong To one whom ever in my heart of hearts I did acknowledge nobler. What are these?
Diamonds for me! they had been thrice their worth Being your gift, had you not lost your own.
To loyal hearts the value of all gifts Must vary as the giver's. Not for me!
For her! for your new fancy. Only this Grant me, I pray you: have your joys apart.
I doubt not that however changed, you keep So much of what is graceful: and myself Would shun to break those bounds of courtesy In which as Arthur's Queen I move and rule:
So cannot speak my mind. An end to this!
A strange one! yet I take it with Amen.
So pray you, add my diamonds to her pearls;Deck her with these; tell her, she shines me down:
An armlet for an arm to which the Queen's Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck O as much fairer--as a faith once fair Was richer than these diamonds--hers not mine -Nay, by the mother of our Lord himself, Or hers or mine, mine now to work my will -She shall not have them.'
Saying which she seized, And, thro' the casement standing wide for heat, Flung them, and down they flash'd, and smote the stream.
Then from the smitten surface flash'd, as it were, Diamonds to meet them, and they past away.
Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disdain At love, life, all things, on the window ledge, Close underneath his eyes, and right across Where these had fallen, slowly past the barge Whereon the lily maid of Astolat Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night."This affair of the diamonds is the chief addition to the old tale, in which we already see the curse of lawless love, fallen upon the jealous Queen and the long-enduring Lancelot. "This is not the first time," said Sir Lancelot, "that ye have been displeased with me causeless, but, madame, ever I must suffer you, but what sorrow Iendure I take no force" (that is, "I disregard").
The romance, and the poet, in his own despite, cannot but make Lancelot the man we love, not Arthur or another. Human nature perversely sides with Guinevere against the Blameless King:-"She broke into a little scornful laugh:
'Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless King, That passionate perfection, my good lord -But who can gaze upon the Sun in heaven?
He never spake word of reproach to me, He never had a glimpse of mine untruth, He cares not for me: only here to-day There gleam'd a vague suspicion in his eyes:
Some meddling rogue has tamper'd with him--else Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, And swearing men to vows impossible, To make them like himself: but, friend, to me He is all fault who hath no fault at all:
For who loves me must have a touch of earth;The low sun makes the colour: I am yours, Not Arthur's, as ye know, save by the bond."It is not the beautiful Queen who wins us, our hearts are with "the innocence of love" in Elaine. But Lancelot has the charm that captivated Lavaine; and Tennyson's Arthur remains "The moral child without the craft to rule, Else had he not lost me."Indeed the romance of Malory makes Arthur deserve "the pretty popular name such manhood earns" by his conduct as regards Guinevere when she is accused by her enemies in the later chapters. Yet Malory does not finally condone the sin which baffles Lancelot's quest of the Holy Grail.
Tennyson at first was in doubt as to writing on the Grail, for certain respects of reverence. When he did approach the theme it was in a method of extreme condensation. The romances on the Grail outrun the length even of mediaeval poetry and prose. They are exceedingly confused, as was natural, if that hypothesis which regards the story as a Christianised form of obscure Celtic myth be correct. Sir Percivale's sister, in the Idyll, has the first vision of the Grail:-"Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail:
