But time flies, and 't were tedious to delay My song for all the trials of that day. Light summer breezes, skurrying o'er the deep, Ripple and foam and flash,--then sink to sleep; But underneath, serene and changing never, The mighty heart of ocean beats forever, And his deep streams renew from pole to pole The living world's indomitable soul. Enough, then, of the spells that vexed the brain Of Gawayne; love and knighthood made all vain. And in the afternoon, when Gawayne learned That his good host, the baron, had returned, He met him in the hall at candle-light, According to his promise of last night. And then the baron motioned to a page, And straightway six tall men, of lusty age And mighty sinews, entered the great door, Bearing the carcass of a huge wild boar, In all its uncouth ugliness complete, And dropped it quivering at our hero's feet. "What do you say to that, Sir Gawayne?" cried The baron, swelling with true sportsman's pride "But come: your promise, now, of yester-eve; 'T is blesseder to give than to receive! Though I'll be sworn you'll find it hard to pay Full value for the winnings of this day." "Not so," said Gawayne; "you will rest my debtor; Your gift is good, but mine will be far better." And then he strode with solemn steps along The echoing hall, and through the listening throng, And with the words, "My noble lord, take this!" He gave the baron a resounding kiss. The baron jumped up in ecstatic glee. "Now by my great-great-grandsire's beard," quoth he, "Better than all dead boars in Christendom Is one sweet loving kiss!--Whence did it come?" "Nay, there," Sir Gawayne said, "you step beyond The terms we stipulated in our bond. Take you my kiss in peace, as I your boar; Be glad; give thanks;--and seek to know no more." Loud laughter made the baron's eyes grow bright And glitter with green sparkles of delight; And then he chuckled: "Sir, I'm proud of you; I drink your best of health; _I think you'll do!_" And now the board was laid and dressed, and all Sat down to dinner at the baron's call; And Gawayne looked along the room askance, Seeking the lady; and he caught one glance Of laughing eyes--then looked away in haste, But turned again, and wondered why his taste Had erred so strangely, for the lady seemed Not fairer now than others. Had he dreamed? He rubbed his eyes and pondered,--though in sooth Without one glimmering presage of the truth,-- Till all passed lightly from his puzzled mind, Leaving contentment and good cheer behind. So all the company feasted well, and sped The flying hours, till it was time for bed.