The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems

Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net









                    THE

            DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE

               AND OTHER POEMS

                     BY

               WILLIAM MORRIS

 REPRINTED FROM THE KELMSCOTT PRESS EDITION
          AS REVISED BY THE AUTHOR


          LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
         39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
       NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
                    1908

            All rights reserved




    _First Edition, BELL & DALDY, 1858
    Reprinted, 1875, for ELLIS & WHITE, and
    Subsequently for REEVES & TURNER
    Kelmscott Press Edition (revised by the Author), 1892
    Transferred to LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 1896
    New Edition corrected by Kelmscott Press Edition, May 1900
    Reprinted January 1908_




CONTENTS


                                            PAGE
 _The Defence of Guenevere_                    1

 _King Arthur's Tomb_                         19

 _Sir Galahad, a Christmas Mystery_           43

 _The Chapel in Lyoness_                      57

 _Sir Peter Harpdon's End_                    65

 _Rapunzel_                                  111

 _Concerning Geffray Teste Noire_            135

 _A Good Knight in Prison_                   148

 _Old Love_                                  155

 _The Gilliflower of Gold_                   159

 _Shameful Death_                            163

 _The Eve of Crecy_                          166

 _The Judgment of God_                       169

 _The Little Tower_                          174

 _The Sailing of the Sword_                  178

 _Spell-Bound_                               182

 _The Wind_                                  187

 _The Blue Closet_                           194

 _The Tune of Seven Towers_                  199

 _Golden Wings_                              202

 _The Haystack in the Floods_                215

 _Two Red Roses across the Moon_             223

 _Welland River_                             226

 _Riding Together_                           231

 _Father John's War-Song_                    234

 _Sir Giles' War-Song_                       237

 _Near Avalon_                               239

 _Praise of My Lady_                         241

 _Summer Dawn_                               246

 _In Prison_                                 247




THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE


    But, knowing now that they would have her speak,
    She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,
    Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,

    As though she had had there a shameful blow,
    And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame
    All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,

    She must a little touch it; like one lame
    She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head
    Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame

    The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said:
    O knights and lords, it seems but little skill
    To talk of well-known things past now and dead.

    God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,
    And pray you all forgiveness heartily!
    Because you must be right, such great lords; still

    Listen, suppose your time were come to die,
    And you were quite alone and very weak;
    Yea, laid a dying while very mightily

    The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak
    Of river through your broad lands running well:
    Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:

    'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,
    Now choose one cloth for ever; which they be,
    I will not tell you, you must somehow tell

    Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'
    Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,
    At foot of your familiar bed to see

    A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,
    Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands,
    Held out two ways, light from the inner skies

    Showing him well, and making his commands
    Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too,
    Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;

    And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue,
    Wavy and long, and one cut short and red;
    No man could tell the better of the two.

    After a shivering half-hour you said:
    'God help! heaven's colour, the blue;' and he said, 'hell.'
    Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed,

    And cry to all good men that loved you well,
    'Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;'
    Launcelot went away, then I could tell,

    Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,
    And roll and hurt myself, and long to die,
    And yet fear much to die for what was sown.

    Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
    Whatever may have happened through these years,
    God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.