Knave, when I watch'd thee striking on the bridge,
The savor of thy kitchen came upon me

A little faintlier: but the wind hath changed;
I scent it twenty-fold." And then she sang,
""O morning starʼ—not that tall felon there,
Whom thou, by sorcery or unhappiness
Or some device, hast foully overthrown,-
'O morning star that smilest in the blue,

O star, my morning dream hath proven true,
Smile sweetly, thou! my love hath smiled on me.'

"But thou begone, take counsel, and away, For hard by here is one that guards a ford— The second brother in their fool's parableWill pay thee all thy wages, and to boot.

Care not for shame: thou are not knight but knave.”

To whom Sir Gareth answer'd, laughingly:
"Parables? Hear a parable of the knave.
When I was kitchen-knave among the rest,
Fierce was the hearth, and one of my co-mates
Own'd a rough dog, to whom he cast his coat,
'Guard it,' and there was none to meddle with it.
And such a coat art thou, and thee the King
Gave me to guard, and such a dog am I,

To worry, and not to flee; and-knight or knave—
The knave that doth thee service as full knight
Is all as good, meseems, as any knight

Toward thy sister's freeing."

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“Ay, Sir Knave! Ay, knave, because thou strikest as a knight, Being but knave, I hate thee all the more."

"Fair damsel, you should worship me the more, That, being but knave, I throw thine enemies."

“Ay, ay,” she said, "but thou shalt meet thy match."

So when they touch'd the second river-loop, Huge on a high red horse, and all in mail Burnish'd to blinding, shone the Noonday Sun, Beyond a raging shallow. As if the flower

That blows a globe of after arrowlets

Ten thousand-fold had grown, flash'd the fierce shield,
All sun; and Gareth's eyes had flying blots
Before them when he turn'd from watching him.

He from beyond the roaring shallow roar'd,

"What doest thou, brother, in my marches here?"
And she athwart the shallow shrill'd again,
"Here is a kitchen-knave from Arthur's hall
Hath overthrown thy brother, and hath his arms."
"Ugh!" cried the Sun, and, vizoring up a red
And cipher face of rounded foolishness,
Push'd horse across the foamings of the ford,
Whom Gareth met mid-stream; no room was there
For lance or tourney-skill; four strokes they struck
With sword, and these were mighty; the new knight
Had fear he might be shamed; but as the Sun
Heaved up a ponderous arm to strike the fifth,

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The hoof of his horse slipt in the stream, the stream
Descended, and the Sun was wash'd away.

Then Gareth laid his lance athwart the ford;
So drew him home; but he that fought no more,
As being all bone-batter'd on the rock,
Yielded; and Gareth sent him to the King.

"Myself when I return will plead for thee.

Lead, and I follow." Quietly she led.

"Hath not the good wind, damsel, changed again?"
"Nay, not a point; nor art thou victor here.

There lies a ridge of slate across the ford;
His horse thereon stumbled-ay, for I saw it.

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"O sun'-not this strong fool whom thou, Sir Knave, Hast overthrown thro' mere unhappiness—

'O sun, that wakenest all to bliss or pain, O moon, that layest all to sleep again,

Shine sweetly: twice my love hath smiled on me.'

"What knowest thou of love-song or of love? Nay, nay, God wot, so thou wert nobly born, Thou hast a pleasant presence. Yea, perchance,—

"O dewy flowers that open to the sun,

O dewy flowers that close when day is done,
Blow sweetly: twice my love hath smiled on me.'

"What knowest thou of flowers, except, belike, To garnish meats with? hath not our good King Who lent me thee, the flower of kitchendom,

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A foolish love for flowers? what stick ye round
The pasty? wherewithal deck the boar's head?
Flowers? nay, the boar hath rosemaries and bay.

"""O birds that warble to the morning sky, O birds that warble as the day goes by, Sing sweetly: twice my love hath smiled on me.'

"What knowest thou of birds, lark, mavis, merle,
Linnet? what dream ye when they utter forth
May-music growing with the growing light,
Their sweet sun-worship? these be for the snare-
So runs thy fancy-these be for the spit,
Larding and basting. See thou have not now
Larded thy last, except thou turn and fly.
There stands the third fool of their allegory."

For there beyond a bridge of treble bow,
All in a rose-red from the west, and all
Naked it seem'd, and glowing in the broad
Deep-dimpled current underneath, the knight

That named himself the Star of Evening stood.

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And Gareth, "Wherefore waits the madman there 1065

Naked in open dayshine?" "Nay," she cried,

"Not naked, only wrapt in harden'd skins

That fit him like his own; and so ye cleave

His armor off him, these will turn the blade.”

Then the third brother shouted o'er the bridge, "O brother-star, why shine ye here so low?

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