And fell’d him, and set foot upon his breast, And said, “Thy name?” To whom the fallen man 575 Made answer, groaning, “Edyrn, son of Nudd! Ashamed am I that I should tell it thee. My pride is broken: men have seen my fall.” “Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd,” replied Geraint, “These two things shalt thou do, or else thou diest. 580 First, thou thyself, thy lady, and thy dwarf, Shalt ride to Arthur’s court, and being there, Crave pardon for that insult done the Queen, And shalt abide her judgment on it; next, Thou shalt give back their earldom to thy kin. 585 These two things shalt thou do, or thou shalt die.” And Edyrn answer’d, “These things will I do, For I have never yet been overthrown, And thou hast overthrown me, and my pride Is broken down, for Enid sees my fall!” 590 And rising up, he rode to Arthur’s court, And there the Queen forgave him easily. And being young, he changed himself, and grew To hate the sin that seem’d so like his own Of Modred, Arthur’s nephew, and fell at last 595 In the great battle fighting for the King. But when the third day from the hunting-morn Made a low splendour in the world, and wings Moved in her ivy, Enid, for she lay With her fair head in the dim yellow light, 600 Among the dancing shadows of the birds, Woke and bethought her of her promise given No later than last eve to Prince Geraint— So bent he seem’d on going the third day, He would not leave her, till her promise given— 605 To ride with him this morning to the court, And there be made known to the stately Queen, And there be wedded with all ceremony. At this she cast her eyes upon her dress, And thought it never yet had look’d so mean. 610 For as a leaf in mid-November is To what it was in mid-October, seem’d The dress that now she look’d on to the dress She look’d on ere the coming of Geraint. And still she look’d, and still the terror grew 615 Of that strange bright and dreadful thing, a court, All staring at her in her faded silk; And softly to her own sweet heart she said; “This noble prince who won our earldom back, So splendid in his acts and his attire, 620 Sweet heaven, how much I shall discredit him! Would he could tarry with us here awhile, But being so beholden to the Prince, It were but little grace in any of us, Bent as he seem’d on going this third day, 625 To seek a second favour at his hands. Yet if he could but tarry a day or two, Myself would work eye dim, and finger lame, Far liefer than so much discredit him.”