"O bird of birds most monstrous and malific, 122 Were these the inns to which thou wert to lead! Now gash'd with swords, now claw'd by imps horrific; Wives--wounds--cramps--pinches! Precious guide, indeed! Ossa on Pelion piling, crime on crime: Wretch, save thy throttle, and repent in time!" Thus spoke the knight--the raven gave a grunt, 123 (That raven liked not threats to life or limb!) Then with due sense of the unjust affront, Hopp'd supercilious forth, and summon'd him-- His mail once more the aching knight indued, Limp'd to his steed, and ruefully pursued. The sun was high when all the glorious sea 124 Flash'd through the boughs that overhung the way, And down a path, as rough as path could be, The bird flew sullen, delving towards the bay; The moody knight dismounts, and leads with pain The stumbling steed, oft backing from the rein. One ray of hope alone illumed his soul, 125 "The bird will lead thee to the ocean coast," The wizard's words had clearly mark'd the goal; The goal once won--of course the guide was lost; While thus consoled, its croak the raven gave, Folded its wings and hopp'd into a cave. Sir Gawaine paused--Sir Gawaine drew his sword; 126 The bird unseen scream'd loud for him to follow-- His soul the knight committed to our Lord, Stepp'd on--and fell ten yards into a hollow; No time had he the ground thus gain'd to note, Ere six strong hands laid gripe upon his throat. It was a creek, three sides with rocks enclosed, 127 The fourth stretch'd, opening on the golden sand; Dull on the wave an anchor'd ship reposed; A boat with peaks of brass lay on the strand; And in that creek caroused the grisliest crew Thor ever nurst, or Rana[9] ever knew. But little cared the knight for mortal foes. 128 From those strong hands he wrench'd himself away, Sprang to his feet and dealt so dour his blows, Cleft to the chin a grim Berseker lay, A Fin fell next, and next a giant Dane-- "Ten thousand pardons!" said the bland Gawaine. But ev'n in that not democratic age 129 Too large majorities were stubborn things, Nor long could one man strive against the rage Of half a hundred thick-skull'd ocean kings-- Four felons crept between him and the rocks, Lifted four clubs and fell'd him like an ox. When next the knight unclosed his dizzy eyes, 130 His feet were fetter'd and his arms were bound-- Below the ocean and above the skies; Sails flapp'd--cords crackled; long he gazed around; Still where he gazed, fierce eyes and naked swords Peer'd through the flapping sails and crackling cords--