Thou art joyful, and yet hast small reason,' spake the lady of Gawain's love, (As of old were her words of mocking,) 'Since wherever thy shield doth move 240 The lion's paw doth follow--And thou thinkest fresh fame to gain Since the ladies have looked on thy jousting---Well thou mayst in thy bliss remain, Since the Lit Merveil hath dealt gently and but little harm hath wrought! And yet is thy shield all splintered as if thou hadst bravely fought-- Thou art doubtless too sorely wounded to yearn for a further fray? 245 And such ill to the 'Goose' be reckoned, that I called thee but yesterday. So eager wert thou to vaunt thee, as a sieve hast thou piercèd thro' Thy shield, one would deem it riddled with the darts that toward thee flew. But _to-day_ mayst thou well shun danger--If thy finger shall wounded be Ride hence to the maids of the castle, for well will they care for thee! 250 Far other strife were _his_ portion, to whom I a task would give, Did thine heart yet yearn for my favour, and thou wouldst in my service live!' Quoth Gawain to the Duchess, 'Lady, tho' deep were my wounds I trow They ere this have found help and healing--If such help I from thee might know That thou, gracious, wouldst own my service, no peril would be so great, 255 But I, for thy love and rewarding, the issue would gladly wait!' Quoth she, 'Then shalt thou ride with me new honour perchance to gain!' Then rich in all joy and contentment was that valiant knight Gawain-- And the Turkowit went with the boatman, and he bade him the tidings bear To the Burg, and there pray the maidens to have of the knight good care. 260 And his spear it was yet unsplintered, tho' both horses they spurred amain To joust, his right hand yet held it, and he bare it from off the plain. And many a maiden saw him, and wept as he rode away. Quoth Arnivé, 'Our joy and comfort hath chosen to him to-day A joy for the eyes and a sorrow for the heart, yea, both flower and thorn, 265 Alas! that he rides with the Duchess, since he leaveth us here forlorn. To the Perilous Ford he rideth, and his wounds sure shall work him ill!' (Maids four hundred must weep for his going, yet new tasks would he fain fulfil.)