Low-voiced she spoke, as if with studied care Weighing the syllables of her parting prayer. "Sir Gawayne--nay, I pray you, turn not yet, But hear me;--though my heart may not forget That once, for one sweet moment, you were kind, I come not to recall that to your mind;-- Between us two be love's words aye unspoken! Yet ere you go, I pray you, leave some token That in the long, long years may comfort me For the dear face I nevermore shall see." "Nay, lady," said the knight, "I have no gifts To give you. Errant knighthood ever drifts From shore to shore, by wandering breezes blown, With naught save its good name to call its own. In friendship, then, I pray you keep for me My name untarnished in your memory." "Ah, sir," she said, "my memory bears that name Burnt in with characters of living flame. But though you give me naught, I pray you take This girdle from me;--wear it for my sake; Nay, but refuse me not; you little know Its magic power. I had it long ago From Fairyland; and its encircling charm Keeps scathless him who wears it from all harm; No evil thing can touch him. Gird it on, If but to ease my heart when you are gone." She held a plain green girdle in her hand, In outward seeming just a narrow band Of silk, with silver clasps; but in those days The strangest things were wrought in simplest ways, As Gawayne knew full well; and he could see That all the lady said was verity. He took the girdle, held it, fingered it, Then clasped it round his waist to try the fit, Irresolutely dallying with temptation, Till conscience grew too weak for inclination; For at the last he threw one wandering glance Out at the casement, and the merry dance Of sparkling sunbeams on the fields of snow Wrought havoc in his wavering heart; and so, Repeating to himself one word: "Life, life!" He took the token from the baron's wife. That evening, when the baron and our knight Met to exchange their gifts at candle-light, The baron, looking graver than before, Said: "Sir, my luck has left me; not a boar Did we get wind of, all this blessed day. I come with empty hands, only to pray Your pardon. What good fortune do _you_ bring?" And Gawayne answered firmly: "Not a thing!" CANTO IV CONCLUSION CANTO IV CONCLUSION