Two At The Crossroads

The knight of battered and unblazoned arms Reined up before the haster from the South Whose red shield bore the crookt beast Glatysaunt, (Also a scroll with “Pray for me!” entwined With flowers and poison-leaves and Iseult’s name) And cried “Where lies the sea-road?”; but the other Seeming as mad as his own crest, replied “Has the beast quested past you? have its dogs Given sharp tongue along these drooping woods? For I must follow them until I fall Dead in some cleft of rock, and let the crabs Hack at my armor till the Judgement Day!” The first—“Whence come you, and for what your quest?” “Palomides am I from Camelot, Wretched Palomides whom dreams torment Forever—of a cold proud little head, A friendly hand that gives me the same love It would to a familiar dog, a body For which Sir Tristram and King Mark contend, Wolves over a spilled bone ... and yet this name, This “Iseult” is a good thing for the sword, And makes it cut through many helms and makes Death very visible to heathen men ... ... And I could sit with her on a green cliff And watch the world die—if she were but tired And soon would rest her head against my heart; Not caring for the roughness of my mail Not aught at all save that I held her close And she and her child’s love at last had peace.... So, Lord, what need were Heaven, Hell or quest? No! I must follow winter! She will be Doubtless betrayed and hurt—and I not there To comfort her in any measure—well Pray God some ax beat through my warding soon!— I beg your grace, sir Knight—my dreams—you said?—

“I heard the quarrel and loud noise of hounds More to the westward, by a little inn That’s badged with a dry bush.” “I must ride on! Your road lies thither!” Like a pawing storm His horse beat down the valley and was gone The stranger’s face within the vizor wore The look of one who, having had a gem Some twelvemonth, finds it out of fashion, dulled By others’ praise perhaps—at any rate Its turn gone past—a new stone to be found, New tiger-hues.... Palomides was far. And, settling well his harp upon his back, With something of amusement in his mouth, Tristram rode southward to the Breton ships.