I laid upon you, not to speak to me, And thus you keep it! Well then, look-for now, Long for my life, or hunger for my death, Then Enid waited pale and sorrowful, Of comrades, each of whom had broken on him A lance that splinter'd like an icicle, Swung from his brand a windy buffet out Once, twice, to right, to left, and stunn'd the twain Or slew them, and dismounting like a man Stript from the three dead wolves of woman born Of armour on their horses, each on each, And tied the bridle-reins of all the three Together, and said to her, 'Drive them on Before you; and she drove them thro' the waste. He follow'd nearer ruth began to work Against his anger in him, while he watch'd The being he loved best in all the world, With difficulty in mild obedience Driving them on: he fain had spoken to her, And loosed in words of sudden fire the wrath And smoulder'd wrong that burnt him all within ; But evermore it seem'd an easier thing At once without remorse to strike her dead, Than to cry Halt,' and to her own bright face And thus tongue-tied, it made him wroth the more Minutes an age but in scarce longer time Than at Caerleon the full-tided Usk, Before he turn to fall seaward again, In the first shallow shade of a deep wood, And Enid ponder'd in her heart and said, 'I will abide the coming of my lord, I needs must disobey him for his good; How should I dare obey him to his harm? Needs must I speak, and tho' he kill me for it, I save a life dearer to me than mine.' And she abode his coming, and said to him With timid firmness, 'Have I leave to speak?' He said, 'You take it, speaking,' and she spoke. 'There lurk three villains yonder in the wood, And each of them is wholly arm'd, and one Is larger-limb'd than you are, and they say To which he flung a wrathful answer back : And if there were an hundred in the wood, And every man were larger-limb'd than I, And all at once should sally out upon me, I swear it would not ruffle me so much As you that not obey me. Stand aside, And if I fall, cleave to the better man.' And Enid stood aside to wait the event, Not dare to watch the combat, only breathe Struck thro' the bulky bandit's corselet home, And then brake short, and down his enemy roll'd, And there lay still; as he that tells the tale, That had a sapling growing on it, slip From the long shore-cliff's windy walls to the beach, And there lie still, and yet the sapling grew : So lay the man transfixt. His craven pair Of comrades, making slowlier at the Prince, |