At this he turned all red and paced his hall, Now gnaw'd his under, now his upper lip, And coming up close to her, said at last: "Girl, for I see ye scorn my courtesies, Take warning: yonder man is surely dead; And I compel all creatures to my will. Not eat nor drink? And wherefore wail for one, Who put your beauty to this flout and scorn By dressing it in rags? Amazed am I, Beholding how ye butt against my wish, That I forbear you thus: cross me no more. At least put off to please me this poor gown, This silken rag, this beggar-woman's weed: I love that beauty should go beautifully: For see ye not my gentlewomen here, How gay, how suited to the house of one Who loves that beauty should go beautifully? Rise therefore; robe yourself in this: obey." He spoke, and one among his gentlewomen Display'd a splendid silk of foreign loom, Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue Play'd into green, and thicker down the front With jewels than the sward with drops of dew, When all night long a cloud clings to the hill, And with the dawn ascending lets the day Strike where it clung: so thickly shone the gems. But Enid answer'd, harder to be moved Than hardest tyrants in their day of power, With life-long injuries burning unavenged, And now their hour has come: and Enid said: "In this poor gown my dear lord found me first, And loved me serving in my father's hall: In this poor gown I rode with him to court, And there the Queen array'd me like the sun: In this poor gown he bade me clothe myself, When now we rode upon this fatal quest Of honor, where no honor can be gain'd: And this poor gown I will not cast aside Until himself arise a living man, And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough: Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be: I never loved, can never love but him: Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness, He being as he is, to let me be." Then strode the brute Earl up and down his hall, And took his russet beard between his teeth; Last, coming up quite close, and in his mood Crying, "I count it of no more avail, Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you; Take my salute," unknightly with flat hand, However, lightly, smote her on the cheek. Then Enid, in her utter helplessness, And since she thought, "He had not dared to do it, Except he surely knew my lord was dead," Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry, As of a wild thing taken in the trap, Which sees the trapper coming thro' the wood.