Then stilled for a space the clamour--The couch stood within the hall, And an equal space had they measured from its station to either wall. Yet now waxed his peril greater, for five hundred missiles, swung 255 With craft from hands yet hidden, were against Sir Gawain flung. And they fell on the couch as he lay there; but the shield it was hard and new, And it sheltered him well, and I think me of the blows did he feel but few. And the stones were as river pebbles, so heavy, and hard, and round, And in many a place on the surface of the shield might their trace be found. 260 At length was the stone-shower ended, and never before he knew Such sharp and such heavy missiles as those which toward him flew. For now full five hundred cross-bows were bended, their bolts they sped, And each one was aimed at the hero as he lay on the Wonder-Bed. (And he who hath faced such peril in sooth he of darts may tell:) 265 Yet their wrath was soon spent, and silence for awhile on the chamber fell. And he who would seek for comfort he ne'er on such couch should lie! Little solace or rest may he find there, but peace from his face shall fly! And youth would wax grey and agèd, if such comfort should be its share As fell to the lot of Gawain, when he lay on that couch so fair. 270 Yet nor weariness nor terror had weakened or hand or heart, Tho' the stones and the bolts of the cross-bow had done on his limbs their part, And spite of both shield and corslet, sore bruisèd and cut was he: And he thought that, this peril ended, the venture should ended be-- But yet with his hand must he battle, and the prize of the victor win, 275 For a doorway e'en now flew open, and one trode the hall within; And the man was a mighty peasant, and fearful of face, and grim, And the hide of the grey sea-otter was his covering on head and limb, And his hosen were wide, and he carried a club in his strong right hand, And 'twas thicker I ween than a pitcher that round-bellied doth firmly stand. 280