Arthurian Miscellany: Palomyde's Quest, by William Morris [1855]

Sacred Texts Legends/Sagas England Index Previous Next An Arthurian Miscellany PALOMYDES' QUEST by WILLIAM MORRIS About the middle of the month of June Sir Palomydes rode upon his quest, Twixt sunrise and the setting of the moon: Beast Glatysaunt did give him little rest At midday, and at midnight must he sleep, And still the beast trailed on unceasingly Waking strange echoes in the forest deep, Leaving strange scales on many a bush or tree. So the days went and no lovesickness came O'er the knight's heart to weaken it or bow His head; he rode on with the same Set purpose still in his unwrinkled brow. Until one day when that he rode thinking Whether the beast as they met face to face Would turn to fight him with a sudden spring, Or creep away and whine in some dark place Until he bound his jaws and led him out-- And then he thought until his heart grew hot Of how the folk would laugh and sing and shout And he should lead the beast through Camelot, The heralds crying, "Ho good people, see! For this is Palomydes the good knight Who hath achieved his quest most gloriously And won the Questing Beast in open fight!" Thereat in sooth he almost seemed to be There in the streets with all the bells ringing And all the folk at window him to see, Damsels and minstrels ready for to sing. Almost he heard the praises of the King And Launcelot saying "Now beyond all doubt Is Palomydes the best knight living Though Lamorak and Tristram are most stout." Abroad from thence the bruit shall go of me, And many a lord shall say, "Hold we high feast; Tomorrow an uncouth sight shall we see: Here cometh Palomydes and his beast." And so to Cornwall shall I come at last -- But saying this he sighed, for well he thought: When all this noble fame has been compassed Shall Iseult's love be nearer to me brought? Now at that time the forest thinner grew On the left hand, and all between the trees The light of the green fields began to show, And ever fresher blew the western breeze, On either side of him the thrushes sang And as he drew his rein it seemed to him That from some far-off tower the bells rang. So he passed on to that great forest's rim And then beneath him by the meadows fair With their broad acres of the good green wheat Starred with the blood-red poppies burning clear, There sat he, and the smell of hay came sweet Upon the wind and therewithal the chimes Uncertain as the kisses of a maid Sang out their tale in sweet outlandish rymes Hard to remember. Therefore down he laid His bridle, and he cried, How fair, how fair, You walk within the summer gardens [ ] O bright Iseult!--having but little care For Palomydes, as I full well know. Next: A Good Knight in Prison, by William Morris [1858]