"When wine and mirth did most abound, And harpers played their blithest round, A shrilly trumpet shook the ground, And marshals cleared the ring; A maiden, on a palfrey white, Heading a band of damsels bright, Paced through the circle, to alight And kneel before the King. Arthur, with strong emotion, saw Her graceful boldness checked by awe, Her dress like huntress of the wold, Her bow and baldric trapped with gold, Her sandalled feet, her ankles bare, And the eagle-plume that decked her hair. Graceful her veil she backward flung-- The King, as from his seat he sprung, Almost cried,'Guendolen!' But 'twas a face more frank and wild, Betwixt the woman and the child, Where less of magic beauty smiled Than of the race of men; And in the forehead's haughty grace, The lines of Britain's royal race, Pendragon's you might ken. "Faltering, yet gracefully she said-- 'Great Prince! behold an orphan maid, In her departed mother's name, A father's vowed protection claim! The vow was sworn in desert lone, In the deep valley of St. John.' At once the King the suppliant raised, And kissed her brow, her beauty praised; His vow, he said, should well be kept, Ere in the sea, the sun was dipped,-- Then conscious glanced upon his queen: But she, unruffled at the scene, Of human frailty construed mild, Looked upon Lancelot and smiled. "'Up! up! each knight of gallant crest Take buckler, spear, and brand! He that to-day shall bear him best, Shall win my Gyneth's hand. And Arthur's daughter, when a bride, Shall bring a noble dower; Both fair Strath-Clyde and Reged wide, And Carlisle town and tower.' Then might you hear each valiant knight, To page and squire that cried, 'Bring my armour bright, and my courser wight! 'Tis not each day that a warrior's might May win a royal bride.' Then cloaks and caps of maintenance In haste aside they fling; The helmets glance, and gleams the lance, And the steel-weaved hauberks ring. Small care had they of their peaceful array, They might gather it that wolde; For brake and bramble glitter'd gay, With pearls and cloth of gold. "Within trumpet sound of the Table Round Were fifty champions free, And they all arise to fight that prize,-- They all arise but three. The knights they busied them so fast, With buckling spur and belt, That sigh and look, by ladies cast, Were neither seen nor felt.