_Enter Two Angels in white, with scarlet wings; also, Four Ladies in gowns of red and green; also an Angel, bearing in his hands a surcoat of white, with a red cross._ AN ANGEL. O servant of the high God, Galahad! Rise and be arm'd: the Sangreal is gone forth Through the great forest, and you must be had Unto the sea that lieth on the north: There shall you find the wondrous ship wherein The spindles of King Solomon are laid, And the sword that no man draweth without sin, But if he be most pure: and there is stay'd, Hard by, Sir Launcelot, whom you will meet In some short space upon that ship: first, though, Will come here presently that lady sweet, Sister of Percival, whom you well know, And with her Bors and Percival: stand now, These ladies will to arm you. FIRST LADY, _putting on the hauberk_. Galahad, That I may stand so close beneath your brow, I, Margaret of Antioch, am glad. SECOND LADY, _girding him with the sword_. That I may stand and touch you with my hand, O Galahad, I, Cecily, am glad. THIRD LADY, _buckling on the spurs_. That I may kneel while up above you stand, And gaze at me, O holy Galahad, I, Lucy, am most glad. FOURTH LADY, _putting on the basnet_. O gentle knight, That you bow down to us in reverence, We are most glad, I, Katherine, with delight Must needs fall trembling. ANGEL, _putting on the crossed surcoat_. Galahad, we go hence, For here, amid the straying of the snow, Come Percival's sister, Bors, and Percival. [_The Four Ladies carry out the bed, and all go but_ Galahad. GALAHAD. How still and quiet everything seems now: They come, too, for I hear the horsehoofs fall. _Enter_ Sir Bors, Sir Percival, _and_ his Sister. Fair friends and gentle lady, God you save! A many marvels have been here to-night; Tell me what news of Launcelot you have, And has God's body ever been in sight? SIR BORS. Why, as for seeing that same holy thing, As we were riding slowly side by side, An hour ago, we heard a sweet voice sing, And through the bare twigs saw a great light glide, With many-colour'd raiment, but far off; And so pass'd quickly: from the court nought good; Poor merry Dinadan, that with jape and scoff Kept us all merry, in a little wood Was found all hack'd and dead: Sir Lionel And Gauwaine have come back from the great quest, Just merely shamed; and Lauvaine, who loved well Your father Launcelot, at the king's behest