Would ye know how the knights had robed them? Of silk was their raiment bright, And heavy with gold inwoven that shone in the morning light. And the king, he went as to hawking, with his falconer by his side-- 695 Now Arthur had well bethought him, and Beau-corps he bade to ride, And half-way to meet the monarch as escort both fit and fair-- And over the stretch of the meadow, or a pool or a brook lay there, Where'er one might find the water rode the king as on pastime bent, Yet ever Love drew him onward, and on Love was his heart intent. 700 And Beau-corps, he rode towards him, and in such wise the king would greet That I ween 'twas a joyful moment when the twain and their folk did meet. And more than fifty pages with Beau-corps should ride that day, And their faces were fair to look on, Dukes and Counts might they be alway, And kings' sons, too, rode among them--And the greeting was good to see, 705 When from either side the children kissed each other, of true heart free. And Beau-corps was fair to look on, and the king asked, who might he be? And Bené, she straightway answered. 'The son of King Lot is he, And _Beau-corps_ the name men call him'--Then he thought, 'Of a sooth, my heart, Thou hast found her! For she shall be like him who so knightly doth play his part, 710 For in truth shall she be his sister, she who sent me the headgear rare That of erst was in Sinzester fashioned, and the hawk on mine hand I bear. If she further will show me kindness then all earthly power and pride Would I count as naught, might I win her, tho' the earth were twice as wide. And surely she meaneth truly--For love of her came I here, 715 Hitherto hath she dealt so kindly that methinks I but little fear; She will show unto me such favour that my courage shall wax full high!' Then he clasped the hand of her brother that fair in his hand did lie. In the meanwhile within his army King Arthur in such wise wrought That the Duchess was fain to grant him the peace that his lips had sought. 720 For rich was her consolation for her love by King Gramoflanz slain, For whose sake she had borne him hatred; and no more might her lips complain, For her anger had sunk to slumber, and she wakened to life anew 'Neath Gawain's embrace so tender, and her wrath, it was smitten thro'.