Here her slow sweet eyes Fear-tremulous, but humbly hopeful, rose Fixt on her hearer’s, while the Queen who stood All glittering like May sunshine on May leaves In green and gold, and plumed with green replied, “Peace, child! of overpraise and overblame We choose the last. Our noble Arthur, him Ye scarce can overpraise, will hear and know. Nay—we believe all evil of thy Mark— Well, we shall test thee farther; but this hour We ride a-hawking with Sir Lancelot. He hath given us a fair falcon which he trained; We go to prove it. Bide ye here the while.” She past; and Vivien murmured after “Go! I bide the while.” Then through the portal-arch Peering askance, and muttering broken-wise, As one that labours with an evil dream, Beheld the Queen and Lancelot get to horse. “Is that the Lancelot? goodly—ay, but gaunt: Courteous—amends for gauntness—takes her hand— That glance of theirs, but for the street, had been A clinging kiss—how hand lingers in hand! Let go at last!—they ride away—to hawk For waterfowl. Royaller game is mine. For such a supersensual sensual bond As that gray cricket chirpt of at our hearth— Touch flax with flame—a glance will serve—the liars! Ah little rat that borest in the dyke Thy hole by night to let the boundless deep Down upon far-off cities while they dance— Or dream—of thee they dreamed not—nor of me These—ay, but each of either: ride, and dream The mortal dream that never yet was mine— Ride, ride and dream until ye wake—to me! Then, narrow court and lubber King, farewell! For Lancelot will be gracious to the rat, And our wise Queen, if knowing that I know, Will hate, loathe, fear—but honour me the more.” Yet while they rode together down the plain, Their talk was all of training, terms of art, Diet and seeling, jesses, leash and lure. “She is too noble” he said “to check at pies, Nor will she rake: there is no baseness in her.” Here when the Queen demanded as by chance “Know ye the stranger woman?” “Let her be,” Said Lancelot and unhooded casting off The goodly falcon free; she towered; her bells, Tone under tone, shrilled; and they lifted up Their eager faces, wondering at the strength, Boldness and royal knighthood of the bird Who pounced her quarry and slew it. Many a time As once—of old—among the flowers—they rode. But Vivien half-forgotten of the Queen Among her damsels broidering sat, heard, watched And whispered: through the peaceful court she crept And whispered: then as Arthur in the highest Leavened the world, so Vivien in the lowest, Arriving at a time of golden rest, And sowing one ill hint from ear to ear, While all the heathen lay at Arthur’s feet, And no quest came, but all was joust and play, Leavened his hall. They heard and let her be.