The Vision of Sir Launfal

"My golden spurs now bring to me,

And bring to me my richest mail,

For to-morrow I go over land and sea,

In search of the Holy Grail;

100Shall never a bed for me be spread,

Nor shall a pillow be under my head,

Till I begin my vow to keep;

Here on the rushes will I sleep,

And perchance there may come a vision true

105Ere day create the world anew."

Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim,

Slumber fell like a cloud on him,

And into his soul the vision flew.

The crows flapped over by twos and threes,

110In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees,

The little birds sang as if it were

The one day of summer in all the year,

And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees:

The castle alone in the landscape lay

115Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray:

'Twas the proudest hall in the North Countree,

And never its gates might opened be,

Save to lord or lady of high degree;

Summer besieged it on every side,

120But the churlish stone her assaults defied;

She could not scale the chilly wall,

Though around it for leagues her pavilions tall

Stretched left and right,

Over the hills and out of sight;

125Green and broad was every tent,

And out of each a murmur went

Till the breeze fell off at night.

The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang,

And through the dark arch a charger sprang,

130Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight,

In his gilded mail, that flamed so bright

It seemed the dark castle had gathered all

Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall

In his siege of three hundred summers long,

135And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf,

Had cast them forth: so, young and strong,

And lightsome as a locust-leaf,

Sir Launfal flashed forth in his unscarred mail,

To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail.