“And there sat Arthur on the dais-throne, And those that had gone out upon the Quest, Wasted and worn, and but a tithe of them, And those that had not, stood before the King, Who, when he saw me, rose, and bad me hail, Saying, ‘A welfare in thine eye reproves Our fear of some disastrous chance for thee On hill, or plain, at sea, or flooding ford. So fierce a gale made havoc here of late Among the strange devices of our kings; Yea, shook this newer, stronger hall of ours, And from the statue Merlin moulded for us Half-wrenched a golden wing; but now—the Quest, This vision—hast thou seen the Holy Cup, That Joseph brought of old to Glastonbury?’ “So when I told him all thyself hast heard, Ambrosius, and my fresh but fixt resolve To pass away into the quiet life, He answered not, but, sharply turning, asked Of Gawain, ‘Gawain, was this Quest for thee?’ “‘Nay, lord,’ said Gawain, ‘not for such as I. Therefore I communed with a saintly man, Who made me sure the Quest was not for me; For I was much awearied of the Quest: But found a silk pavilion in a field, And merry maidens in it; and then this gale Tore my pavilion from the tenting-pin, And blew my merry maidens all about With all discomfort; yea, and but for this, My twelvemonth and a day were pleasant to me.’ “He ceased; and Arthur turned to whom at first He saw not, for Sir Bors, on entering, pushed Athwart the throng to Lancelot, caught his hand, Held it, and there, half-hidden by him, stood, Until the King espied him, saying to him, ‘Hail, Bors! if ever loyal man and true Could see it, thou hast seen the Grail;’ and Bors, ‘Ask me not, for I may not speak of it: I saw it;’ and the tears were in his eyes. “Then there remained but Lancelot, for the rest Spake but of sundry perils in the storm; Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy Writ, Our Arthur kept his best until the last; ‘Thou, too, my Lancelot,’ asked the king, ‘my friend, Our mightiest, hath this Quest availed for thee?’