A 58387 7
TENNYSON
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT
GERAINT AND ENID
G. C. MACAULAY
Mic

ARTES
1837
SCIENTIA
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Library of Isaac N. Demmon
TENNYSON, Alfred
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Tennyson, 1st baron, 1809-
1892.
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT
GERAINT AND ENID
WITH
INTRODUCTION AND NOTES
BY
G. C. MACAULAY, M.A.
FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1892
[All rights reserved]
2-28 LWB
Hift
Library of
Isaac M.
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adá. cops.
PREFACE.
THIS edition of the idylls of The Marriage of Geraint
and Geraint and Enid is intended to be uniform with
that of The Coming of Arthur and The Passing of Arthur
by Mr. F. J. Rowe, of the Presidency College, Calcutta,
and with my edition of Gareth and Lynette.
For a
general account of Tennyson and his poetry I may be
permitted to refer to Mr. Rowe's Introductions, to which
I must also acknowledge obligation for several suggestive
remarks. In preparing the Notes I have occasionally
found Brightwell's Concordance to Tennyson of service, not-
withstanding its omissions, which are especially observ-
able in the idyll of Enid; while for etymologies I have
constantly given references to Dr. Skeat's Concise Etymo-
logical Dictionary of the English Language, a book which
might with advantage be put into the hands of every
student of English. In quotations from Lady Charlotte
Guest's Mabinogion I have referred to the edition of
1877.
V
!
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION,
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT,
ix
•
1
GERAINT AND ENID, .
26
NOTES TO THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT,
55
•
·
NOTES TO GERAINT AND ENID,
91
INDEX TO NOTES,
·
121
.
INTRODUCTION.
THE Idylls of the King should be regarded as one poem,
the most important of Tennyson's works.
This poem
has something of the effect of an Epic, but is not thrown
into that form of continuous narrative which belongs
to the true Epic, and this difference of treatment is
expressed by the title. The word 'idyll,' which origin-
ally means 'little picture,' came from its use by Theo-
critus (and perhaps others of the Greek pastoral poets)
to designate a short picturesque poem dealing with the
lives and loves of shepherds, fishermen or common people
generally; and a beautiful example of this kind is given
by Tennyson in the 'small sweet idyl' which occurs
in the Princess, Come down, O maid, from yonder
mountain height.' Tennyson, however, has extended
the meaning of the term so as apparently to include
under it all picturesque narrative poems of moderate
length, whatever their subject; and its use in the title
of Idylls of the King serves chiefly to express the fact
that in this work the subject is dealt with in a series of
poems each complete in itself, and generally without
direct transition of the narrative from one to another,
though at the same time there is a regular progress of
narrative from the first to the last, as well as a profound
ix
X
INTRODUCTION.
unity of conception. Similarly many of the divisions
of In Memoriam are complete in themselves, while at the
same time each has a vital connection with the whole.
The work, however, has grown gradually from the
poet's mind, and its unity is probably not the result of a
fully preconceived plan, for perhaps no poem was ever
published in so fragmentary a manner as this. It may
fairly be said that the author began with the end, con-
tinued with the beginning, and ended with the middle of
the story; and yet, partly from the fact that each idyll is
pervaded by the consistent moral ideals of the poet, and
partly from the manner in which the new elements have
been successively woven in, the poem forms unquestion-
ably an artistic whole.
The portion which first appeared of the Idylls was that
magnificent fragment called Morte d'Arthur, which forms
now a part of The Passing of Arthur, 11. 170-440. This,
which was published in 1842, was introduced then as the
eleventh book of a young poet's Epic King Arthur, of
which all had been destroyed but this. We should
certainly not be justified in assuming that Tennyson had
himself already written an Epic upon the subject, but it
is clear that the idea of such an Epic must have passed
through his mind. After an interval of seventeen years,
in the year 1859, were published under the title of Idylls
of the King the four poems called Enid, Vivien, Elaine
and Guinevere, which with little change, hardly any
indeed except some additions to Vivien, form a part of
the completed work under the names of The Marriage of
Geraint, Geraint and Enid, Merlin and Vivien, Lancelot and
Elaine, and Guinevere, (Enid having been divided into
two.) In 1869 appeared The Coming of Arthur, The
INTRODUCTION.
xi
Holy Grail, Pelleas and Ettarre, and The Passing of Arthur,
the last including the Morte d'Arthur previously pub-
lished; in 1871 The Last Tournament, in 1872 Gareth and
Lynette, and finally in 1885, Balin and Balan, which
completes the series of twelve idylls, in which The
Coming of Arthur serves as introduction and The Passing
of Arthur as conclusion, while the remaining ten, not
being pictures of Arthur himself, but of the other per-
sonages of the romance, and of the King only indirectly
through them, have as a general title The Round Table.
Before the appearance of the volume containing The
Holy Grail, in 1869, it was impossible to form a concep-
tion of the work as a whole. The four idylls which first
appeared seemed to be, and perhaps were, simply four
independent delineations of woman's character selected
from the cycle of Arthurian romance, and representing
in Enid the true ideal of maidenhood and wifehood, in
Vivien the type of impurity and falseness, in Elaine that
of impulsive and wilful girlhood, and in Guinevere that
of the erring and repentant wife. It was not therefore
until the publication of the next volume that the struc-
ture and moral drift of the work began to be perceived,
and the addition of Gareth and Lynette as the first, and
The Last Tournament as the last of the Round Table
series, made the artistic effect far more complete. In the
address to the Queen which concludes the series the
poet has himself indicated the moral purpose of his
poem and the view which he takes of its subject:
'accept this old imperfect tale,
New-old, and shadowing Sense at war with Soul
Rather than that gray king, whose name, a ghost,
Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from mountain peak,
xii
INTRODUCTION.
And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still; or him
Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, one
Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a time.
That hover'd between war and wantonness,
And crownings and dethronements.'
We are not, therefore, to look in the Idylls for a
historical presentation of the Celtic Arthur, nor yet for
a reproduction of the hero of medieval chivalry, such
as we find him in Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia
Britonum or in Malory's Morte Darthur: the frame-
work of the old legends is used, but the tale is in its
essentials modern; and to find fault with the poet for
making his heroes think the thoughts and speak the
language of the nineteenth century is as much out of
place as to find fault with the authors of the romances
of Merlin and Lancelot for making their heroes, whom
they imagine to have lived in the fifth century, think
and speak like men and women of the thirteenth and
fourteenth.
The tale then, for a single tale it is, and not a series
of tales loosely strung together, has a definite moral
aim. It is not an allegory, for the characters are men
and women, and not personified qualities, but it has a
spiritual meaning, it shadows 'Sense at war with Soul.'
Arthur represents the moral force that works to make the
dead world live, which has power for a time to accomplish
its purpose, but is gradually overborne and goes down,
though not utterly and for ever, for the war is one
which is ever to be renewed,—
'Nay-God my Christ-I pass but shall not die.'
The hero is victorious over the external foe, he conquers
rebels and heathen invaders; his failure is due to a
INTRODUCTION.
xiii
more subtle enemy, to the taint of corruption which
creeps in among the circle which he has gathered round
him,
To serve as model for the mighty world,
And be the fair beginning of a time.'
He is betrayed, and the purpose of his life is spoilt by
those whom he most trusted to join with one will in
his work and make it perfect :-
'And all whereon I lean'd in wife and friend
Is traitor to my peace, and all my realm
Reels back into the beast, and is no more.'
In The Coming of Arthur, which serves as an intro-
duction, we see him established on the throne in spite
of those who cried Away with him! No king of
ours!' and victorious over Rome and the heathen.
In Gareth and Lynette there is set before us the spring-
time of Arthur's glory, when the Round Table seemed
to be indeed a model for the world, and Arthur himself
the representative of Christ upon earth. No sensual
taint has yet crept in, or at least none is yet visible;
in this idyll, alone of all the twelve, Guinevere is neither
mentioned nor alluded to: it is the period referred to
afterwards as the time
'When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.'
The two idylls contained in this volume, The Marriage
of Geraint and Geraint and Enid, which are in fact the
two parts of the original Enid, form a complete whole
with little or no dependence on the general scheme.
of the Idylls, though they contribute to it some essen-
tial elements. They show us the first insidious ap-
proach of corruption, the beginning of the moral taint
xiv
INTRODUCTION.
which in the succeeding pair of idylls, Balin and Balan
and Vivien, becomes painfully apparent. The relations.
between Lancelot and Guinevere, though as yet no loud.
scandal has arisen, are already matter of public surmise,
and it is already rumoured that they go beyond that
worship which, according to the laws of chivalry, a
knight might lawfully pay to his lady, though she were
the wife of another; and the suspicious temper of
Geraint readily believes the rumours against the queen,
as he also readily conceives suspicion even of his wife.
We see not so much the evil of the moral taint itself, as
its effect in producing vague uneasiness in souls to which
it is abhorrent, and arousing suspicion which lights even
on the truest and purest. Already the evil which is at
last to destroy the whole work of Arthur's life has ad-
vanced far enough to drive one of his best knights wild
with jealousy, and to send him on a quest of adventures
quite out of harmony with the serious purpose of the
King. And yet at the same time the court of Arthur
has not lost its elevating influence, nay the queen
herself still bears a part in the work-witness the
conversion of Edyrn, which is ascribed partly to her,
though the example of Balin in the succeeding idyll
shows on how uncertain a foundation such work must
rest. All that we can see at present in the way of
actual degeneration is a certain growing vanity and
superficiality. This affects even the best and noblest
to some extent, and is evidenced in these idylls by the
importance which Geraint attaches to dress and out-
ward show, notwithstanding his high standard of honour
and purity: see note on Geraint and Enid, 40.
first principal element contributed by the Enid idylls to
The
INTRODUCTION.
XV
the general scheme of the poem consists in these various
indications that all is not well; and the second is the
person of Enid herself, whom we need as an ideal of
pure and loyal wifehood, to stand as a foil not so much.
to Vivien, against whom she is sometimes set as a con-
trast,¹ as to Guinevere herself.
The story, which was widely known in the 13th
century under the form which it received from Chrestien
de Troyes, seems to have served as a kind of stock
example of the marriage of one of high degree with a
lowly but beautiful maiden, and of the trials which she
experienced and successfully surmounted. This is
essentially a domestic subject, more or less after the
style of Griseldis, and although in Tennyson's treatment
of it it is brought into relation with the heroic theme of
the Idylls at several points, yet these poems are nearer to
the level of common life than the rest of the idylls, and
often recall the style of Enoch Arden. They have, in
fact, more of the true idyllic character than the rest, and
are rich in examples of the picturesque style of the
author. He has leisure, as it were, to dwell upon the
details of his subject, and they come out,
'Fine as ice-ferns on January panes
Made by a breath.'
On the other hand, there is less of the representative
rhythm which is so characteristic of Tennyson, less also
of alliteration, and more perhaps of studied repetition,
than in the more recently published idylls.
1' And saw the Queen, who sat betwixt her best
Enid, and lissome Vivien, of her court
The vilest and the worst.'-Guinevere, 27.
xvi
INTRODUCTION.
Tennyson is perhaps the most picturesque of all
English poets. If we compare him with Spenser, for
example, with whom he has considerable affinity, we
shall be all the more struck with the truth and complete-
ness of background and surroundings which he gives to
his figures, and that too by a few magical touches which
set the whole vividly before our minds, while the older
poet, picturesque as he too is in a certain sense, too.
often endeavours to conjure up impossible scenery by
long enumeration of details. Tennyson is incapable of
the carelessness of observation and description which we
find in Spenser. He sees the scene with unsurpassable
accuracy and with the eye of an artist, and is able to
grasp its essential features and sum them up for us in
phrases which have all the effect of a revelation. Of
such descriptions in the idylls with which we are con-
cerned we may note especially that of Geraint sleeping
with Enid sitting beside the couch, of Geraint's entrance
into the court of Earl Yniol's ruined castle, of Enid
sleeping
'With her fair head in the dim yellow light
Amid the dancing shadows of the birds,'
and of Enid weeping beside the way over the wounded
and unconscious Geraint. With a view to this character-
istic it is worth while to pay special attention to the
similes of the poem. Like Virgil's, they are pictures,
each complete itself, however slightly sketched, and have
a degree of living accuracy in representing the forms
and colours of nature, which no ancient poet even
conceived of, and hardly any modern poet has attained
to the same extent as Tennyson. Often too we shall
INTRODUCTION.
xvii
observe, as in Virgil, a singular aptness of detail, which
invites us to apply the comparison more closely than at
first we should be disposed to do, and shows with what
artistic care they have been elaborated, simple as they
may seem to be. Of the picturesque simile there are
many examples in these idylls,—
e.g., Marriage of Geraint, 76 :—
334-
734:
arms on which the standing muscle sloped,
As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone,
Running too vehemently to break upon it,'
'So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint ;
And made him like a man abroad at morn
When first the liquid note beloved of men
Comes flying over many a windy wave
To Britain, and in April suddenly
Breaks from a coppice gemm'd with green and red,' etc.
Then, as the white and glittering star of morn
Parts from a bank of snow, and by and by
Slips into golden cloud, the maiden rose,
And left her maiden couch, and robed herself,'
Geraint and Enid, 170:-
for as one,
That listens near a torrent mountain-brook,
All thro' the crash of the near cataract hears
The drumming thunder of the huger fall
At distance, were the soldiers wont to hear
His voice in battle,'
467:-
'But at the flash and motion of the man
They vanish'd panic-stricken, like a shoal
Of darting fish, that on a summer morn
Adown the crystal dykes at Camelot
b
-
xviii
INTRODUCTION.
686:
Come slipping o'er their shadows on the sand,
But if a man who stands upon the brink
But lift a shining hand against the sun,
There is not left the twinkle of a fin
Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower;'
'a splendid silk of foreign loom,
Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue
Play'd into green, and thicker down the front
With jewels than the sward with drops of dew,
When all night long a cloud clings to the hill,
And with the dawn ascending lets the day
Strike where it clung: so thickly hung the gems.'
These instances may suffice as illustrations of the
poet's peculiar wealth of apt and picturesque com-
parison, and they are but a few of the many examples
which might be found of picturesque simile or meta-
phor (for metaphor is but compressed simile) in the
two idylls of Geraint. By a reviewer of the first
four Idylls of the King, speaking of Mr. Tennyson's
extraordinary felicity and force in the use of metaphor
and simile,' it was well said :—'With regard to this
particular and very critical gift, he may challenge
comparison with almost any poet, either of ancient or
modern times.
Metaphor lies by metaphor as
thick as shells upon their bed, yet each individually
with its outline as well drawn, its separateness as
clear, its form as true to nature, and with the most
full and harmonious contribution to the general effect.'
(Quarterly Review, Oct., 1859.)
The same critic writes:-'Mr. Tennyson practices
largely, and with extraordinary skill and power, the
art of designed and limited repetitions.
These
INTRODUCTION.
xix
repetitions tend at once to give more definite im-
pressions of character, and to make firmer and closer
the whole tissue of the poem.' This is in fact one of
the most marked features of Tennyson's style, and the
poems before us are full of examples of it. It must be
noted, however, that though the effect is often produced
by the repetition of precisely the same form of words,
it depends perhaps still more often upon a certain
monotony of structure and of rhythm. Take for example
the following lines of the May Queen :-
'O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies,
And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise,
And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow,
And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go.'
The wonderful power and beauty of this climax is
almost entirely due to the repetition of the same
structure;¹ and throughout Tennyson's poetry, especially
1 It need hardly be said that this method of heightening the
effect is familiar in all poetry, and, indeed, in one form or
another, it is perhaps the most characteristic outward difference
between poetry and prose. The Hebrew parallelism is only a
particular development of it, and both rhyme and alliteration
are due to the same craving for recurrence which finds
satisfaction in repetition of the same words or of the same
form of structure. Good examples of this last may be found
in Milton, e.g. Paradise Lost, 4, 641 ff. :-
'Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; then silent night
XX
INTRODUCTION.
in the more lyrical parts of it, in The Lotos-eaters, Locksley
Hall, Maud, we find this characteristic one of the most
prominent features of his style. Examples of it are
found rather more sparingly in the Idylls of the King,
but here too we recognise it, and especially in those
of the idylls which were published first.
We may
take as examples in The Marriage of Geraint the passage
beginning,
'Forgetful of his promise to the King,' ll. 50-54,
and 719-722 :—
'For though ye won the prize of fairest fair ;
And tho' I heard him call you fairest fair' etc.
Also Geraint and Enid, 579-589 :—
'So for long hours sat Enid by her iord,
There in the naked hall, propping his head,
And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him.
Till at the last he waken'd from his swoon,
And found his own dear bride propping his head,
And chafing his faint hands, and calling to him ;
And felt the warm tears falling on his face;
And said to his own heart, "She weeps for me:
And yet lay still, and feign'd himself as dead,
That he might prove her to the uttermost,
And say to his own heart, "She weeps for me.
ووو
""
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train :
But neither breath of morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun
On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers;
Nor grateful evening mild; nor silent night
With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon,
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.'
INTRODUCTION.
XXI
680-683:
'I love that beauty should go beautifully :
For see ye not my gentlewomen here,
How gay, how suited to the house of one
Who loves that beauty should go beautifully?'
697-706 :-
'In this poor gown my dear lord found me first,
And loved me serving in my father's hall :
In this poor gown I rode with him to court,
And there the Queen array'd me like the sun :
In this poor gown he bad me clothe myself,
When now we rode upon this fatal quest
Of honour, where no honour can be gain'd:
And this poor gown I will not cast aside
Until himself arise a living man,
And bid me cast it.'
Other instances will be found in Marriage of Geraint,
234, 239, 289, 483, 549, 647 ff.; Geraint and Enid,
135, 420, 430 (compared with Marriage of Geraint, 773),
952 (compared with Marriage of Geraint, 42).
With regard to the use of blank verse, the practice.
of Tennyson is in agreement with that of Milton. No
one has used rhyme with more skill and effect than
Tennyson in his lyrical and ballad poetry, but as Milton
discarded in Paradise Lost the troublesome and modern
bondage of riming,' and chose blank verse as more
suitable for a long epic or narrative poem, so Tennyson,
in all his longer poems of a narrative kind, as Enoch
Arden, The Princess, and The Idylls of the King, has
adopted blank verse; and he has fairly proved himself
to be the greatest master of English blank verse since
Milton. Tennyson's blank verse is almost always
xxii
INTRODUCTION.
dignified, never slovenly, and endlessly various in its
rhythmical modulation, and in its adaptability to the
subjects upon which it is employed. His alliteration
is most skilful and delicate, so that often we only
feel its presence without perceiving where it is, or
are conscious of a certain subtle harmony without
realizing to what particular source it is due. That
this is no mean merit we shall easily admit, if we
bear in mind how dangerous a weapon alliteration
is apt to be in any but a master hand, and how fre-
quent has been the abuse of it, even by such a poet
as Spenser, and much more by those of our Own
time. In these idylls alliteration is more sparingly
employed than in others which have been published
since, but as examples of the effect of it we may
quote Marriage of Geraint, 326 ff.:-
'And while he waited in the castle court,
The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang
Clear thro' the open casement of the hall,
Singing; and as the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him to think,' etc.
Geraint and Enid, 274 ff. :—
'And midmost of a rout of roisterers,
Femininely fair and dissolutely pale,
Her suitor in old years before Geraint,
Enter'd, the wild lord of the place, Limours.
He moving up with pliant courtliness,
Greeted Geraint full face, but stealthily,
In the mid-warmth of welcome and graspt hand,
Found Enid with the corner of his eye,
And knew her sitting sad and solitary.'
INTRODUCTION.
xxiii
762 ff.:-
'And never yet, since high in Paradise
O'er the four rivers the first roses blew,
Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind
Than lived thro' her, who in that perilous hour
Put hand to hand beneath her husband's heart,
And felt him hers again.'
Of imitative rhythm the most marked examples are
pointed out in the notes to Marriage of Geraint, 208,
282; Geraint and Enid, 90, 160-164, 379, 529 ff., 726.
With regard to the diction of these poems, it is char-
acterized, as is usual with Tennyson, by the not un-
frequent use of words which belong rather to the older
English than to that of the present day, and, in general,
by avoidance of the commonplace in expression. But the
most remarkable feature about the diction of the Idylls,
a feature which they share with most of Tennyson's
other poetry, is its extreme simplicity; a result which
has been attained partly by careful selection of native
English words in preference to those of French or Latin.
origin, wherever the former can be used without ob-
scurity or the appearance of affectation, and partly by
the choice of the simplest and most popular among the
words of foreign origin, wherever these are employed.
It would be absurd to pretend that there are not
hundreds of words derived through French from Latin
which are as simple and popular as those of native
origin: 'clear' is as popular as 'bright,' 'river' as
'stream,' 'cry' as 'weep,' 'flower' as 'bloom,' and so
forth; yet at the same time, since the less popular
element in the language is mostly of foreign origin, it
will generally happen that greater simplicity of diction
xxiv
INTRODUCTION.
is marked by a larger number of native English words,
and from this point of view it is interesting to compare
the proportion in which these two classes of words are
used by different writers. It was said by a critic on the
publication of the first four Idylls of the King, that since
the definitive formation of the English language no poetry
has been written with so small an admixture of Latin as
the Idylls of the King, and what will sound still stranger
in the ears of those who have been in the habit of
regarding the Latin element as essential to the dignity
of poetry, no language has surpassed in epic dignity the
English of these poems.' If we test this assertion, we
shall find that it is not far from the truth; and the
idylls since published have the same characteristic. Tak-
ing passages of a hundred lines each at random from the
poems before us, we find in the Marriage of Geraint, 477-
576, about 80 words of French or Latin origin, and in
Geraint and Enid, 195-294, about 96: examining passages
of similar length in Gareth and Lynette, published almost
last of the idylls, we find in ll. 641-740 about 90, and in
11. 1082-1181 about 85 such words. If we compare this
result with that which is given by the works of other
English poets, we find that Chaucer in the first hundred
lines of the Knightes Tale has about 80 words of French
origin; Shakspeare in Midsummer Night's Dream 2, 1,
148-247, has 90, and in King Lear, 2, 4, 139-238, about
110; Milton in Paradise Lost, 4, 598-697 (a passage in
which his diction is simpler than usual), has about 145,
while in Paradise Lost, 8, 1-100, he has at least 175¹;
1 These passages and the rest are not selected as extreme cases,
but as fair samples of the several varieties of style in the authors
referred to.
INTRODUCTION.
XXV
Byron in the first hundred lines of the Corsair has nearly
150; Wordsworth in the lines on Tintern Abbey has an
average of about 125 for each hundred lines, but in the
Excursion considerably more. It will be seen that of the
poets who have been mentioned after Chaucer, none but
Shakspeare has nearly so small a proportion of imported
words as we find in the Idylls of the King: a result
which must certainly have been attained by a conscious.
endeavour on the part of Tennyson to write as far as
possible in native English. Even this, however, does
not give the measure of his severe simplicity of diction;
for, as has been said, many of the words which are not
of native origin are quite as simple and popular as those
which are originally English; and the simplicity of
Tennyson's diction is perhaps most plainly marked by
the very great number of monosyllables in his verse:
there are indeed so many as sometimes to endanger the
smoothness of its flow, while often adding in an extra-
ordinary degree to its force. Often in the more im-
passioned utterances we find an average of not more
than one word in a line of more than one syllable, and
sometimes a series of lines or a song is almost entirely
monosyllabic. On the whole we may perhaps say that the
chief distinguishing mark of Tennyson's style, the feature
to which it owes its individuality more than to any other,
is the combination of extreme simplicity of diction with
extraordinary richness of imagery and subtlety of thought,
the building up of the plainest materials into the most.
splendid edifices. It may well be supposed that this
characteristic has largely contributed to his great popu-
larity, notwithstanding that in many respects he has the
stamp of the cultured rather than of the popular poet.
xxvi
INTRODUCTION.
With the story of Geraint and Enid as told by Tenny-
son some critics have been dissatisfied on the ground
of want of interest. At the same time it has been
remarked that no other of the Idylls is so true to the
manners of the age to which their story belongs. Such
a story as this even when told by Chaucer or by Tenny-
son will perhaps hang rather heavily in the telling; nay,
Chaucer himself felt at length the necessity of an ironical.
'Envoy' to make his tale of Grisildis tolerable to the
reader. But if we allow the charge to this limited extent,
we shall certainly not admit it as regards the first part of
the story, and few will be found to deny the interest of
the earlier idyll or the excellent workmanship of both.
Few things in poetry are more charming than the person
of Enid as a maiden in her father's ruined palace. We
see her, 'sweet and serviceable,' taking the guest's horse.
to stall, and bringing provisions from the town; pre-
paring and serving the meal, and going about her lowly
hand-maid work afterwards in the dusky hall; listening
no doubt with eager interest to the conversation of the
stranger knight, whose feats of arms she has heard her
father praise, as Elaine listened to Lancelot, but stealing
away, as Elaine perhaps would not have done, when she
heard her own name mentioned; standing 'half dis-
arrayed as to her rest' with her mother's hands upon
her shoulders to hear that which Geraint had said of
her, while the red and pale course alternately over her
face like light and shade over an open down; standing
and looking on with her meek blue eyes, 'The truest
eyes that ever answer'd Heaven,' while her champion
gained his victory; lying asleep early in the morning
in the dim yellow light, while the shadows of the birds
INTRODUCTION.
xxvii
in the ivy danced over her couch; waking and fearing
about her faded dress and that strange bright and
dreadful thing, a court,' then in her half sleep dream-
ing herself like the goldfish which was 'patched and
blurr'd and lustreless' among his burnish'd brethren,
and waking again to the sweet surprise of her mother's
good gift recovered; arraying herself in the gorgeous
gown with pleasure, and yet at once laying it aside
on the wish expressed without reason given of him
to whom she was transferring her obedience; and
finally laying aside the faded silk, the mantle and the
veil, 'folded reverently With sprigs of summer laid be-
tween the folds' in the cedarn cabinet, whence she took
them when her husband bade her put on her meanest
dress to go no that quest of glory where no glory was to
be gained.
The story is taken from the tale of Geraint the son of
Erbin, as translated from the Welsh of the so-called Red
Book of Hergest by Lady Charlotte Guest, and published
in 1838 with other stories from the same manuscript
under the title (which apparently belongs only to some.
of them) of Mabinogion, i.e. Children's Tales. The story,
however, like several others in the collection, belongs
not exclusively to Welsh literature, but to the cycle of
European romance; and the form under which it was
best known in the Middle Ages was as told in the French
metrical romance of Erec et Enide, a poem of 7000 eight-
syllable lines by Chrestien de Troyes, the author of
Cligés, Yvain, Tristan, the Conte del Graal, and Lancelot,
who died about the beginning of the thirteenth century.
Through this poem Erec and Enid became generally
known as personages in the Arthurian romances, and are
xxviii
INTRODUCTION.
often referred to in old French and Provençal poetry.
The French romance was soon reproduced in German by
Hartmann von Aue, who had also adapted that of Yrain;
and the Icelandic Erex Saga is said to be also taken from
Chrestien's poem. Besides these, there is a fourteenth
century French prose version of the story, based upon the
poem, but much abridged and slightly altered, which is
printed together with the poem itself in the edition of the
works of Chrestien de Troyes by W. Foerster (vol. 3, Halle,
1890). Into the vexed question of the relation between
the Welsh story of Geraint and the French romance of
Erec I do not propose to enter. Suffice it to say that
they resemble one another so closely that one must
certainly have been borrowed from the other, and the
weight of opinion inclines to the decision that the Welsh
story, at least in its present form, was taken, with some
slight alteration and the introduction of some national.
names and local colour, from the French poem.
What has been said is sufficient to show that the story
thus included by Tennyson among his tales of the Round
Table is not the obscure local legend which it has some-
times been supposed to be by those whose acquaintance
with Arthurian romance is limited to Malory's Morte
Darthur, and who are apt to complain if those limits are
disregarded by others. In dealing, however, with the
idylls before us we are hardly concerned to go beyond
the Welsh story, seeing that it is upon this that the
poems are based. It seems improbable that Tennyson
when he wrote Enid had before him any of the other
reproductions of the story, most of which then existed
only in manuscript; though it may be remarked that in
some few instances his variations from the Welsh story
INTRODUCTION.
xxix
are in accordance with those which we find in the French
prose version, and that too in some points where this is
not in agreement with the poem upon which it is based.
Thus in assigning to Geraint a nobler motive for not.
striking the dwarf than is given in the Welsh story, he
agrees with the French prose Erec, which says, 'il ne
l'ose ferir pour ce que celui seroit blasme s'il batoit ung
naim, qu'il puelt tuer a ung seul coup,' though the verse
of Chrestien makes no mention of any motive except a
discreet regard for the armed knight: again, the com-
parison of Enid to 'a flower vermeil-white,' occurs in
both the French versions but not in the Welsh: the
mention by Geraint of his name to Earl Yniol, followed
by Yniol's exclamation,
'Art thou indeed
Geraint, a name far-sounded among men
For noble deeds?
is paralleled in the French versions:-
'Ha! biaus sire, est ce veritez?
Erec li fiz Lac estes vos ?
beau
le fils de Lac
Ce sui je, fet il, a estros.
Li ostes mout s'an esjoï,
Et dist: Bien avomes oï
De vos parler an cest païs,' etc.,
s'en réjouit
avons ouï
en ce pays
whereas in the Welsh Geraint does not name himself at all:
in the French versions the combats with robbers on the
road are, as in Tennyson, two only, whereas the Welsh
makes them three: the mention of the crowing of the
cock in Geraint and Enid, 384, occurs also in the French
prose version, but not in the others: and finally in
1. 457 ff. Tennyson agrees with the French versions in
making the overthrow of the Earl and one other sufficient
XXX
INTRODUCTION.
to determine the flight of the rest, whereas the Welsh
story, with characteristic exaggeration, makes Geraint
overthrow the whole troop one by one, and last of all the
Earl. Whether these points of agreement can be all
coincidences it is difficult to determine, but none of them
point necessarily to the direct use by Tennyson of
Chrestien de Troyes' poem.1
The following is a summary of the tale of Geraint son
of Erbin as given in Lady Charlotte Guest's Mabinogion,
pp. 141-184 (ed. 1877).
Once Arthur held his court at Whitsuntide at Caerleon
upon Usk; and on Whit-Tuesday, as the King sat at
meat, there entered a youth richly dressed, who announced
himself as one of the foresters of Dean, and reported that
a stag had been seen in the forest, which was of pure white
and did not herd with the rest. Arthur decided to hunt
the stag on the morrow at dawn, and Queen Gwen-
hwyvar asked Arthur for permission to go and see the
hunt, which was granted. Gwalchmai proposed that
whosoever should slay the stag should have free leave
to present his head to any lady he pleased, and Arthur
accepted the proposal. On the morrow Arthur left
1 It is worth mention that in the French versions the motive of
jealousy (which appears in the Welsh) is absent. Erec is moved
to anger by the popular sayings, and especially against Enid who
has reported them, for in the French poem Enid makes a full
confession of all that is weighing on her mind; and he rides forth
to show her and the world that he is not what they think him.
On the occasion when the Earl, who by Tennyson is called
Limours, asks leave to speak to Enid and obtains it readily, we
are told that 'Erec ne fu mie jalos,' (Erec et Enide, 3304). There is
therefore no misunderstanding at all, except so far as Enid is
supposed to share the opinion which she reports.
INTRODUCTION.
xxxi
Gwenhwyvar sleeping and went forth to the forest.
When the Queen awoke, she sent a maiden to the stable
to find a horse, and she found but two horses left; so
Gwenhwyvar and one of her maidens mounted them and
went through the Usk, following the track of the
hunters. As they rode they heard a sound behind
them, and looking round they saw a knight, Geraint
the son of Erbin, riding after them in surcoat of satin
and a purple scarf with golden apples, who overtook the
Queen and saluted her. The Queen rejoiced that she
should have so good company to watch the hunt, and
they went and stood at the edge of the forest. From this
place,' said she, 'we shall hear when the dogs are let
loose.' Thereupon they heard a noise, and looking to
the spot whence it came, they saw a dwarf upon a
prancing horse, with a whip in his hand. And near
the dwarf was a lady in a garment of gold brocade
upon a beautiful white horse; and near her was a
knight upon a great war horse, with heavy and bright
armour on himself and on his horse. The Queen asked
Geraint if he knew the knight, and Geraint replied that
he did not. Then Gwenhwyvar sent her maiden to ask
the dwarf who the knight was. The dwarf refused to
tell, and refused to allow the maiden to ask the knight,
and finally on her attempting to do so, struck her in the
face with his whip so that the blood flowed forth. The
maiden returned to the Queen complaining, and Geraint
undertook to find out who the knight was.
The same
thing occurred to him, the dwarf striking him so that
the blood ran down and coloured his scarf.
He put
his hand to the hilt of his sword, but considering the
presence of the armed knight, he refrained from
xxxii
INTRODUCTION.
vengeance and returned to the Queen, offering to follow
the knight and encounter him as soon as he could
obtain arms. 'Go,' said she, and I shall eagerly wait
for tidings of thee.' 'If I am alive,' said he, thou
shalt hear tidings by to-morrow afternoon,' and with
that he departed.
•
The road they took was below the palace of Caerlleon,
and across the ford of Usk; and they went along a fair
and even and lofty ridge, till they came to a town, and
at the extremity of the town was a fortress and a castle.
And as the knight passed through the town, all the
people saluted and welcomed him; and every house.
was full of men and arms and horses, and they were
polishing shields and burnishing swords, and washing
armour and shoeing horses. And the knight, the lady,
and the dwarf rode up to the castle and were received
there with great joy.
Geraint stood still for a time to see if the knight
would abide there, and then he saw at a little distance
an old palace in ruins, wherein was a hall that was
falling into decay.
And as he knew not anyone in the town, he went towards the
old palace, and when he came near he saw but one chamber,
and a bridge of marble-stone leading to it. And upon the
bridge he saw sitting a hoary-headed man, upon whom were
tattered garments.
Seeing him thoughtful, the old man questioned him,
and then invited him to enter. He left his horse in the
hall, and went on to the upper chamber with the hoary-
headed man.
And in the chamber he beheld an old decrepit woman sitting
on a cushion, with old tattered garments of satin. . . . And
INTRODUCTION.
xxxiii
beside her was a maiden, upon whom were a vest and a veil
that were old and beginning to be worn out. And truly he
never saw a maiden more full of comeliness and grace and beauty
than she.
At the suggestion of the old man the maiden first
disarrayed the youth and then attended to the horse.
After this the hoary-headed man sent her to the town
to get food and liquor, and she returned with a youth
who bore on his back a costrel full of mead and a
quarter of a young bullock. And she carried white
bread in her hand and some manchet bread in her
veil. And they had the meat cooked and sat down
to eat.
Then Geraint asked the hoary-headed man, to whom
the ruined palace belonged, and he replied, 'It was I
that built it, and to me also belonged the town and
the Castle.' He then told how he had been left
guardian of his brother's son, and had tried to deprive
him of his property, but had been forced to give it up,
and his earldom and other possessions as well. Then
Geraint asked concerning the knight, lady, and dwarf,
why they came to the town, and what meant all the
preparations which he saw. He was told that a tourna-
ment would be held on the next day by the young
Earl, and in the midst of a meadow two forks would
be set up, and on the forks a silver rod, and on the
rod a Sparrow-Hawk, and this was the prize of the
tourney. And each knight would go thither with the
lady he loved best and joust for the prize; and the
knight whom Geraint had seen had won it these two
years, and if he won it again the third year they
would send it to him every year, and he himself would
C
xxxiv
INTRODUCTION.
come no more to fight for it. And he would be called
thenceforth the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk. Then
Geraint told of the insult to the Queen's maiden and
to himself, and asked counsel; and the old man offered
him arms, but said it was hard to know what to do,
because Geraint had no lady with him. Geraint asked
to be allowed to challenge for the maiden who was
present, and promised to love her as long as he lived
if he escaped from the tournament, and if not, she
would remain unsullied as before. 'Gladly will I per-
mit thee,' said the host, and bade him be ready by
daybreak, for then the knight would make proclama-
tion, and tell his lady to take the Sparrow-Hawk.
So at dawn they arose and went all four to the
meadow. And when the proclamation was made, Geraint
said, 'Fetch it not, for there is a maiden here who is
fairer and more noble, and has a better claim to it than
thou.' Then the knights encountered each other and
broke many lances. And as the Knight of the Sparrow-
Hawk seemed to have the better of the fight, the young
Earl and his company rejoiced, and the hoary-headed
man, his wife and his daughter were sorrowful.
Then the hoary-headed man gave Geraint the lance
which he had first when he was made a knight and
had never broken since, and the dwarf also brought
a lance to his lord. And Geraint cleft the shield of his
opponent, and his girths burst, so that he and his saddle
fell to the ground. Then Geraint dismounted and the
other knight rose quickly, and they fought on foot.
And when the hoary-headed man saw Geraint hard put
to it, he went up to him and said, "Remember the treat-
ment thou hadst from the dwarf, and avenge the insult
INTRODUCTION.
XXXV
to thyself and to Gwenhwyvar." And Geraint was
roused by what he said, and struck the knight a blow
upon his head, which broke through his helmet and
wounded him even to the bone. The knight
besought mercy, and Geraint granted it on condition
that he should go to Gwenhwyvar and do satis-
faction for the insult which her maiden had received
from the dwarf. 'And who art thou?' he said.
I am
Geraint the son of Erbin. And declare thou also who thou
art.' 'I am Edeyrn the son of Nudd.' Then he went
to Arthur's Court with the lady he loved best and the
dwarf, with much lamentation.
Then the young Earl and his host saluted Geraint and
bade him to his castle, but Geraint would go nowhere
but where he had been the night before. So they feasted
all together at the old palace, and Geraint being told
that the Earl had sent garments for the old man and
his wife and daughter, asked that the damsel might not
array herself in them, but might wear her vest and veil
till she came to the Court of Arthur, to be clad by the
Queen. So the maiden did not array herself. The
young Earl professed himself willing to abide by Geraint's
decision regarding the difference between Yniol (for
that was the old man's name) and himself. Geraint
decided that Yniol should be restored to his earldom
and all his proper possessions, which was done. Then
Earl Yniol said to Geraint, 'Behold the maiden for
whom thou didst challenge, I bestow her upon thee.'
'She shall go with me to the Court of Arthur,' said he.
Now Arthur had hunted the stag and killed him with
his own hands; and they returned to the palace, and as
they went the knights disputed about the head of the
xxxvi
INTRODUCTION
stag, to whom it ought to be given; and Gwenhwyvar
advised that it should not be given to any until Geraint
returned, telling the King of his errand. To this Arthur
agreed, and Gwenhwyvar set a watch on the ramparts
for Geraint's coming. And after mid-day they beheld a
dwarf, a lady, and a knight coming sorrowfully and in
piteous state, and Gwenhwyvar went down to meet the
knight and was sorry for him; and he told his case, and
said that he had come to atone for the insult which the
dwarf had done to the maiden. And then he told of the
tournament (which had taken place in the town which
is now called Cardiff), and reported that Geraint would
return on the morrow with the maiden. Arthur also
came and recognized him as Edeyrn son of Nudd, and
commended him to Gwenhwyvar's mercy, and then to
the care of Morgan Tud, his chief physician. The next
day came Geraint with the maiden clad in a garment of
linen, and Gwenhwyvar greeted them well, and took the
maiden to her chamber, and gave her the choicest of
her apparel; and so they were wedded. Then the stag's
head was given to Enid the daughter of Yniol, and she
was loved by all.
Geraint abode at Court for three years, and after that
there came ambassadors out of Cornwall from Erbin his
father, delivering that he was advanced in years and
the neighbouring chiefs attacked him, and desiring that
Geraint his son might come to protect his boundaries;
for it was better to spend the prime of his age in this
manner than in tournaments. So Geraint returned,
and, as before, he frequented tournaments and gained
much fame; till at length there was no one worth his
opposing and so he began to love ease and pleasure,
INTRODUCTION.
xxxvii
and shut himself up with his wife, and gave up hunting
and the friendship of the nobles, so that they murmured
against him. And Erbin told Enid of this, asking her
whether it was she who caused Geraint to act thus;
but she replied that nothing was more hateful to her
than this. And one morning in the summer time Geraint
lay upon his couch.
And Enid was without sleep in the apartment, which had
windows of glass. And the sun shone upon the couch. And
the clothes had slipped from off his arms and breast, and he was
asleep. Then she gazed on the marvellous beauty of his appear-
ance, and she said, 'Alas, and am I the cause that these arms
and this breast have lost their glory and the warlike fame which
they once so richly enjoyed!' And as she said this the tears
dropped from her eyes, and they fell upon his breast. And the
tears she shed and the words she had spoken awoke him.
And he thought that it was not in thinking of him that
she spoke thus, but that it was because she loved some
other man and that more than him; and Geraint was
troubled in his mind, and he called his squire; and when
he came he said, 'Go quickly and prepare my horse and
my arms.'
'And do thou arise,' said he to Enid, 'and apparel thyself; and
cause thy horse to be accoutred, and clothe thee in the worst
riding-dress that thou hast in thy possession. And evil betide
me,' said he, if thou return here until thou knowest whether I
have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say. And if
it be so, it will then be easy for thee to seek the society thou
didst wish for of him of whom thou wast thinking.' So she
arose, and clothed herself in her meanest garments. 'I know
nothing, Lord,' said she, 'of thy meaning.' 'Neither wilt thou
know at this time,' said he.
Then Geraint went to Erbin and said that he was
going upon a quest, and asked him to take charge of his
xxxviii
INTRODUCTION.
dominions till his return. So he took his horse, and
desired Enid to mount hers, and to ride forward and
keep a long way before him, 'And whatever thou mayest
see and whatever thou mayest hear concerning me,' said
he, 'Do thou not turn back. And unless I speak unto
thee, say not thou one word either.' And they set
forward, choosing that road which was wildest and most
beset by robbers. And they came to a forest and saw
four horsemen come forth from it. Enid heard them
propose to attack Geraint, and doubted what she should
do, but decided that she ought to warn him. He was
angry with her for speaking; and when the brigands.
attacked him he overthrew them all successively and
took their arms and horses, giving Enid charge to drive
them before her, and not to speak unless spoken to.
Then they went forward through the forest; and when
they left the forest they came to a vast plain, in the
centre of which was a group of thickly-tangled copse-
wood; and from out thereof they beheld three horsemen
coming towards them, well equipped with armour, both
they and their horses. The same thing occurred again
and Enid now had three more horses to drive before
her, with another injunction to keep silence. Then on
coming to a forest she saw five horsemen about to
attack them again she warned, and again was rebuked,
and again the horsemen were killed and their arms
and horses delivered into Enid's charge. They passed
the night in the forest, and next day they came to an
open country, with meadows on one hand, and mowers
mowing in the meadows. And there was a river
before them, and the horses bent down aud drank the
water. And they went up out of the river by a lofty
:
INTRODUCTION.
xxxix
steep; and there they met a slender stripling, with a
satchel about his neck, a small blue pitcher in his hand,
and a bowl on the mouth of the pitcher. And the
youth saluted Geraint and asked whence they came, and
being told that they had passed the night in the forest,
invited them to eat the breakfast which he was carrying
to the mowers, bread and meat and wine. 'I will,' said
he, and Heaven reward thee for it.'
So they ate and drank, and the youth asked leave
to go and get more for the mowers. Geraint bade him
go first to the town and hire a lodging, and to take
in payment for his service a gift, whichever horse and
arms he chose. And to the town went the youth,
and he took the best and most pleasant lodgings he
knew, and then went and told the Earl what had
chanced. And after they had disarrayed them-
selves, Geraint thus spoke to Enid, 'Go,' said he,
'to the other side of the chamber, and come not to
this side of the house; and thou mayest call to thee
the woman of the house, if thou wilt.' 'I will do,
lord,' said she, 'as thou sayest.' And thereupon the
man of the house came to Geraint and welcomed him.
And the youth came and brought them drink, and they
both slept while the youth went and reported of them
to the Earl. The Earl sent to say that he would come
in the evening, and Geraint woke and took food, and
bade the man of the house invite whom he would of
his friends to eat and drink at his cost; and so he did.
Then came the Earl to visit Geraint, with twelve
knights and the Earl conversed with him, and then
cast his eyes upon Enid, and he thought her fairer
than any he had seen, and set his affections upon her.
xl
INTRODUCTION.
Then he asked of Geraint, Have I thy permission to
go and converse with yonder maiden, for I see that she
is apart from thee?' 'Thou hast it gladly,' said he.
So the Earl went and spake with Enid, and offered to
share his earldom with her.
Enid refused, but alarmed by his threats she thought
it better to bid him come and take her on the morrow.
Come here to-morrow, and take me away as though
I knew nothing thereof.' The Earl took his leave, and
Enid told nothing of this to Geraint for fear of angering
him and causing him uneasiness.
They went to sleep at the usual hour, and at midnight
Enid arose and placed all Geraint's armour together,
so that it might be ready to put on. Then she woke
him, though fearful, and told him all that had passed.
And although he was wroth with her, he took warning
and clothed himself: and he bade her call the man of
the house, of whom he asked a reckoning, and then
before it was given, said, 'Take the eleven horses and
the eleven suits of armour.' 'Heaven reward thee,
lord,' said he; 'but I spent not the value of one suit
of armour upon thee.' 'For that reason,' said he, 'thou
wilt be the richer. And now, wilt thou come to guide
me out of the town?' So they went forth, and he
bade Enid go before him; and lo, as they went, at
dawn of day, Enid looking behind her saw clouds
of dust, and thought she beheld a knight appearing
through the mist She gave notice and was rebuked,
as usual, and it proved to be the Earl with fourscore
horsemen, all of whom Geraint successively overthrew,
and last of all he fought with the Earl (whose name
was Dwrm), and overthrowing him, granted him his life.
INTRODUCTION.
xli
So they journeyed on and came to a valley with a
river running through it, and a bridge, and on the
opposite side a fortified town; and they met a man
riding of whom Geraint asked who was the owner of
the valley and town. 'Gwiffert Petit he is called by
the Franks, but the Cymry call him the Little King.'
And in passing beneath the town Geraint was over-
taken by a man of very small stature on a great war-
horse, who demanded why he went by that road; and
they fought with one another till their horses were
brought down on their knees, and then they fought on
foot till their armour was broken, and the light of their
eyes darkened with sweat and blood. And at last
Geraint smote the other a blow on the head which
cut through all and wounded him to the very bone,
and he besought mercy, which Geraint granted on
condition that he would always come to his aid when
he heard of his being in trouble. Then Gwiffert Petit
invited them to come to his Court, but Geraint refused
and rode on, all wounded as he was, towards a wood.
Now the heat of the sun was great, and Geraint was
in pain from his wounds, so he stood under a tree to
avoid the heat, and Enid stood under another tree.
And they heard the sound of horns, of which the
occasion was that Arthur and his company had come
down to the wood. While Geraint was thinking how
to avoid them, Kai the Steward came riding, and bade.
him come to Arthur. He refused, and Kai attacked
him, not knowing who he was; and Geraint struck him
with the shaft of his lance and rolled him headlong to
the ground. Then Kai rode back and told Gwalchmai,
who also came and questioned Geraint, not knowing him
xlii
INTRODUCTION.
at first. Then after they had charged one another with
lances, Gwalchmai knew him for Geraint in spite of his
denial, and welcomed Enid. Then Gwalchmai bade him
come and see Arthur, but he said, 'I will not, for I am
not in a fit state to go and see any one.' Gwalchmai,
however, sending a secret message to Arthur, con-
trived to make them meet, and Arthur detained him
against his will to have his wounds attended to, while
Enid was joyfully welcomed by Gwenhwyvar and her
women.
After a month Geraint's wounds were healed, and he
would go forth again: so he pursued his journey, and
Enid went forward as before. By the roadside they
found a woman wailing over her husband's body, who
had been slain by three giants. Geraint went on to
take vengeance on the giants, and left Enid with the
lady. And Geraint overtook the giants and slew them,
but one of them struck him with his club and opened
his wounds anew, so that blood flowed from them. Then
Geraint returned, and when he came to Enid he fell
down lifeless from his horse. Enid gave loud cries, and
at the sound of them came up Earl Limours and his host,
who were journeying along the road. She told him
what had happened, and he caused the dead knight to
be buried, but had Geraint carried in the hollow of his
shield to his court, whither went also the two damsels.
There Geraint lay on a litter-couch in front of the table,
and the Earl besought Enid to clothe herself in other
garments, but she refused. He then offered her his
Earldom and himself, which she refused, and at the
same time vowed that she would neither eat nor
drink till he who lay upon the bier should eat and
INTRODUCTION.
xliii
drink also. The Earl became impatient and struck her,
upon which she uttered a loud and piercing shriek.
At the sound of her cry Geraint revived from his
swoon, and finding his sword in the hollow of his shield,
he rushed to the place where the Earl was, and struck
him a blow upon the crown of his head, so that he clove
him in twain, until his sword was stayed by the table.
Then all leapt up from the board and fled away. And
Geraint looked upon Enid, and he was grieved to see
that she had lost her colour, and also to know that she
was in the right. Then he placed her upon his horse
and they rode forward. And their road lay between
two hedges. And the night was coming on.
And lo,
they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt them.
and the sky, and they heard the trampling of horses, and
the noise of a host approaching. A knight pricked
towards them, and Enid cried out, 'Oh! chieftain, who-
ever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a
dead man?' 'Oh, Heaven,' said he, 'is it Geraint?"
'Yes, in truth,' said she, and who art thou?'
'I am
the Little King,' he answered, 'coming to thy assistance,
for I heard thou wast in trouble.' He then took them
to the house of one whom he knew, where they met with
hospitality and attention; and Geraint stayed there till
he was well. Then the Little King desired him to
return to his Court, but Geraint would go on for one
day more. So they set forth, and came to where two
roads met; and here they were warned not to go by the
lower road, because there was a hedge of mist and
enchantments, and no one who had gone there had
ever returned. Geraint took the lower road, and
came to the court of Earl Owain, who entertained.
xliv
INTRODUCTION.
him. Then Geraint asked to be shown the way to
the enchantments, and went thither with horse and
armour. Alone he dashed through the mist and
came to an orchard; and there in a tent of red satin
sat a maiden on a golden chair, and in front was an
apple-tree, on which hung a huge hunting-horn. He
went into the tent and sat down, though the maiden
warned him of danger if he did so; and then there came
a knight in armour on a war-horse, and demanded why
he sat there. They fought and Geraint overthrew him,
and as condition of mercy demanded that the magic
should cease and the mist disappear. The knight bade
him sound the horn, and when he did so the mist
vanished. So all became reconciled to each other, and
Geraint returned to his own dominions and reigned
prosperously with Enid.
:
This is the story in the Mabinogion, abridged consider-
ably in those parts where it has not been followed by
Tennyson, but pretty fully reproduced where the narrative
of the poems runs parallel with it so that the reader
will be in a position to appreciate the skill with which
the poet has dealt with the materials, and his power of
converting a rather meagre outline into a finished picture,
with the richest colouring and the most elaborate per-
fection of style. As regards the differences between the
story of the Mabinogion and that of the Idylls, the most
important are the following:-In Tennyson's poem the
Knight of the Sparrow-hawk is the same as Yniol's
nephew, the young Earl, and has been a former suitor
of Enid, whereas in the Welsh story he comes from a
distance to compete at the tournament, and has no con-
nection with Yniol at all; in the poem Yniol is a deeply
INTRODUCTION.
xlv
injured person, whereas in the Welsh story he has
suffered the just reward of his evil conduct; there is no
mention in the Welsh romance of the Queen's love for
another than her husband, or of any anxiety felt by
Geraint in consequence of the Queen's rumoured un-
faithfulness; the number of the combats with brigands
is in the idyll two instead of three; the Earl to whose
territory they first come is called in the poem Limours,
a former suitor of Enid, but in the Welsh story Dwrm
(i.e. Doorm), the names Limours and Doorm having been
transposed by Tennyson; the episode of Gwiffert Petit
is altogether omitted in the poem; the meeting with
Arthur's Court is transferred by Tennyson to the end
of the story and takes place with quite different circum-
stances; the combat with the three giants is omitted, and
the wound which causes Geraint to swoon is in the poem
that which was received in combat with the follower of
Limours; and finally the visit to Earl Owain, and the
characteristic account of the enchantments to which
Geraint put an end, is omitted, and we have instead
the meeting with Edyrn, and finally with Arthur him-
self. Some other variations in detail are mentioned in
the notes, see notes on Marriage of Geraint, 33, 108, 196,
296, 381, 414, 508; Geraint and Enid, 12; and it need
hardly be added that all the picturesque and poetical
embellishments of the story, as told by Tennyson, are
due to the poet.
:
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
GERAINT AND ENID.
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
THE brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court,
A tributary prince of Devon, one
Of that great Order of the Table Round,
Had married Enid, Yniol's only child,
And loved her, as he loved the light of Heaven.
And as the light of Heaven varies, now
At sunrise, now at sunset, now by night
With moon and trembling stars, so loved Geraint
To make her beauty vary day by day,
In crimsons and in purples and in gems.
And Enid, but to please her husband's eye,
Who first had found and loved her in a state
Of broken fortunes, daily fronted him
In some fresh splendour; and the Queen herself,
Grateful to Prince Geraint for service done,
Loved her, and often with her own white hands
Array'd and deck'd her, as the loveliest,
Next after her own self, in all the court.
And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart
Adored her, as the stateliest and the best
And loveliest of all women upon earth.
And seeing them so tender and so close,
Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint.
But when a rumour rose about the Queen,
Touching her guilty love for Lancelot,
E
A
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2
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
Tho' yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard
The world's loud whisper breaking into storm,
Not less Geraint believed it; and there fell
A horror on him, lest his gentle wife,
Thro' that great tenderness for Guinevere,
Had suffer'd, or should suffer any taint
In nature wherefore going to the King,
He made this pretext, that his princedom lay
Close on the borders of a territory,
Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights,
Assassins, and all flyers from the hand
Of Justice, and whatever loathes a law:
And therefore, till the King himself should please
To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm,
He craved a fair permission to depart,
And there defend his marches; and the King
Mused for a little on his plea, but, last,
Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode,
And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores
Of Severn, and they past to their own land;
Where, thinking, that if ever yet was wife
True to her lord, mine shall be so to me,
He compass'd her with sweet observances
And worship, never leaving her, and grew
Forgetful of his promise to the King,
Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt,
Forgetful of the tilt and tournament,
Forgetful of his glory and his name,
Forgetful of his princedom and its cares.
And this forgetfulness was hateful to her.
And by and by the people, when they met
In twos and threes, or fuller companies,
Began to scoff and jeer and babble of him
As of a prince whose manhood was all gone,
And molten down in mere uxoriousness.
30
40
50
60
And this she gather'd from the people's eyes:
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
3
This too the women who attired her head,
To please her, dwelling on his boundless love,
Told Enid, and they sadden'd her the more :
And day by day she thought to tell Geraint,
But could not out of bashful delicacy;
While he that watch'd her sadden, was the more
Suspicious that her nature had a taint.
At last, it chanced that on a summer morn
(They sleeping each by either) the new sun
Beat thro' the blindless casement of the room,
And heated the strong warrior in his dreams;
Who, moving, cast the coverlet aside,
And bared the knotted column of his throat,
The massive square of his heroic breast,
And arms on which the standing muscle sloped,
As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone,
Running too vehemently to break upon it.
And Enid woke and sat beside the couch,
Admiring him, and thought within herself,
Was ever man so grandly made as he?
Then, like a shadow, past the people's talk
And accusation of uxoriousness
Across her mind, and bowing over him,
Low to her own heart piteously she said:
"O noble breast and all-puissant arms,
Am I the cause, I the poor cause that men
Reproach you, saying all your force is gone?
I am the cause, because I dare not speak
And tell him what I think and what they say.
And yet I hate that he should linger here;
I cannot love my lord and not his name.
Far liefer had I gird his harness on him,
And ride with him to battle and stand by,
And watch his mightful hand striking great blows
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4
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
At caitiffs and at wrongers of the world.
Far better were I laid in the dark earth,
Not hearing any more his noble voice,
Not to be folded more in these dear arms,
And darken'd from the high light in his eyes,
Than that my lord thro' me should suffer shanie.
Am I so bold, and could I so stand by,
And see my dear lord wounded in the strife,
Or maybe pierced to death before mine eyes,
And yet not dare to tell him what I think,
And how men slur him, saying all his force
Is melted into mere effeminacy?
O me, I fear that I am no true wife.'
Half inwardly, half audibly she spoke,
And the strong passion in her made her weep
True tears upon his broad and naked breast,
And these awoke him, and by great mischance
He heard but fragments of her later words,
And that she fear'd she was not a true wife.
And then he thought, 'In spite of all my care,
For all my pains, poor man, for all my pains,
She is not faithful to me, and I see her
Weeping for some gay knight in Arthur's hall.'
Then tho' he loved and reverenced her too much
To dream she could be guilty of foul act,
Right thro' his manful breast darted the pang
That makes a man, in the sweet face of her
Whom he loves most, lonely and miserable.
At this he hurl'd his huge limbs out of bed,
And shook his drowsy squire awake and cried,
'My charger and her palfrey;' then to her,
'I will ride forth into the wilderness;
For tho' it seems my spurs are yet to win,
I have not fall'n so low as some would wish.
And thou, put on thy worst and meanest dress
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120
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
5
10
And ride with me.' And Enid ask'd, amazed,
'If Enid errs, let Enid learn her fault.'
But he, 'I charge thee, ask not, but obey.'
Then she bethought her of a faded silk,
A faded mantle and a faded veil,
And moving toward a cedarn cabinet,
Wherein she kept them folded reverently
With sprigs of summer laid between the folds,
She took them, and array'd herself therein,
Remembering when first he came on her
140
Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it,
And all her foolish fears about the dress,
And all his journey to her, as himself
Had told her, and their coming to the court.
For Arthur on the Whitsuntide before
Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk.
There on a day, he sitting high in hall,
Before him came a forester of Dean,
Wet from the woods, with notice of a hart
Taller than all his fellows, milky-white,
First seen that day these things he told the King.
Then the good King gave order to let blow
His horns for hunting on the morrow morn.
And when the Queen petition'd for his leave
To see the hunt, allow'd it easily.
So with the morning all the court were gone.
But Guinevere lay late into the morn,
Lost in sweet dreams, and dreaming of her love
For Lancelot, and forgetful of the hunt;
But rose at last, a single maiden with her,
Took horse, and forded Usk, and gain'd the wood;
There, on a little knoll beside it, stay'd
Waiting to hear the hounds; but heard instead
A sudden sound of hoofs, for Prince Geraint,
Late also, wearing neither hunting-dress
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT
Nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand,
Came quickly flashing thro' the shallow ford
Behind them, and so gallop'd up the knoll.
A purple scarf, at either end whereof
There swung an apple of the purest gold,
Sway'd round about him, as he gallop'd up
To join them, glancing like a dragon-fly
In summer suit and silks of holiday.
Low bow'd the tributary Prince, and she,
Sweetly and statelily, and with all grace
Of womanhood and queenhood, answer'd him :
'Late, late, Sir Prince,' she said, 'later than we!'
'Yea, noble Queen,' he answer'd, and so late
That I but come like you to see the hunt,
t
170
Not join it.' 'Therefore, wait with me,' she said;
'For on this little knoll, if anywhere,
180
There is good chance that we shall hear the hounds:
Here often they break covert at our feet.'
And while they listen'd for the distant hunt,
And chiefly for the baying of Cavall,
King Arthur's hound of deepest mouth, there rode
Full slowly by a knight, lady, and dwarf;
Whereof the dwarf lagg'd latest, and the knight
Had vizor up, and show'd a youthful face,
Imperious, and of haughtiest lineaments.
And Guinevere, not mindful of his face
In the King's hall, desired his name, and sent
Her maiden to demand it of the dwarf ;
Who being vicious, old and irritable,
And doubling all his master's vice of pride,
Made answer sharply that she should not know.
'Then will I ask it of himself,' she said.
'Nay, by my faith, thou shalt not,' cried the dwarf;
'Thou art not worthy ev'n to speak of him ;'
And when she put her horse toward the knight,
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
7
Struck at her with his whip, and she return'd
Indignant to the Queen; whereat Geraint
Exclaiming, 'Surely I will learn the name,'
Made sharply to the dwarf, and ask'd it of him,
Who answer'd as before; and when the Prince
Had put his horse in motion toward the knight,
Struck at him with his whip, and cut his cheek.
The Prince's blood spirted upon the scarf,
Dyeing it; and his quick, instinctive hand
Caught at the hilt, as to abolish him:
But he, from his exceeding manfulness
And pure nobility of temperament,
Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, refrain'd
From ev'n a word, and so returning said :
'I will avenge this insult, noble Queen,
Done in your maiden's person to yourself :
And I will track this vermin to their earths:
For tho' I ride unarm'd, I do not doubt
To find, at some place I shall come at, arms
On loan, or else for pledge; and, being found,
Then will I fight him, and will break his pride,
And on the third day will again be here,
So that I be not fall'n in fight. Farewell.'
Farewell, fair Prince,' answer'd the stately Queen.
'Be prosperous in this journey, as in all;
And may you light on all things that you love,
And live to wed with her whom first you love:
But ere you wed with any, bring your bride,
And I, were she the daughter of a king,
Yea, tho' she were a beggar from the hedge,
Will clothe her for her bridals like the sun.'
And Prince Geraint, now thinking that he heard
The noble hart at bay, now the far horn,
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
A little vext at losing of the hunt,
A little at the vile occasion, rode,
By ups and downs, thro' many a grassy glade
And valley, with fixt eye following the three.
At last they issued from the world of wood,
And climb'd upon a fair and even ridge,
And show'd themselves against the sky, and sank.
And thither came Geraint, and underneath
Beheld the long street of a little town
In a long valley, on one side whereof,
White from the mason's hand, a fortress rose;
And on one side a castle in decay,
Beyond a bridge that spann'd a dry ravine :
And out of town and valley came a noise
As of a broad brook o'er a shingly bed
Brawling, or like a clamour of the rooks
At distance, ere they settle for the night.
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And onward to the fortress rode the three,
And enter'd, and were lost behind the walls.
'So,' thought Geraint, 'I have track'd him to his earth.'
And down the long street riding wearily,
Found every hostel full, and everywhere
Was hammer laid to hoof, and the hot hiss
And bustling whistle of the youth who scour'd
His master's armour; and of such a one
He ask'd, 'What means the tumult in the town?'
Who told him, scouring still, 'The sparrow-hawk!'
Then riding close behind an ancient churl,
Who, smitten by the dusty sloping beam,
Went sweating underneath a sack of corn,
Ask'd yet once more what meant the hubbub here?
Who answer'd gruffly, 'Ugh! the sparrow-hawk.'
Then riding further past an armourer's,
Who, with back turn'd, and bow'd above his work,
Sat riveting a helmet on his knee,
260
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
9
He put the self-same query, but the man
Not turning round, nor looking at him, said:
'Friend, he that labours for the sparrow-hawk
Has little time for idle questioners.'
Whereat Geraint flash'd into sudden spleen :
'A thousand pips eat up your sparrow-hawk!
Tits, wrens, and all wing'd nothings peck him dead!
Ye think the rustic cackle of your bourg
The murmur of the world! What is it to me?
O wretched set of sparrows, one and all,
Who pipe of nothing but of sparrow-hawks !
Speak, if ye be not like the rest, hawk-mad,
Where can I get me harbourage for the night?
And arms, arms, arms to fight my enemy? Speak!'
Whereat the armourer turning all amazed
And seeing one so gay in purple silks,
Came forward with the helmet yet in hand
And answer'd, 'Pardon me, O stranger knight;
We hold a tourney here to-morrow morn,
And there is scantly time for half the work.
Arms? truth! I know not all are wanted here.
Harbourage? truth, good truth, I know not, save,
It may be, at Earl Yniol's, o'er the bridge
Yonder.' He spoke and fell to work again.
Then rode Geraint, a little spleenful yet,
Across the bridge that spann'd the dry ravine.
There musing sat the hoary-headed Earl,
(His dress a suit of fray'd magnificence,
Once fit for feasts of ceremony) and said:
'Whither, fair son?' to whom Geraint replied,
'O friend, I seek a harbourage for the night.'
Then Yniol, 'Enter therefore and partake
The slender entertainment of a house.
Once rich, now poor, but ever open-door'd.'
'Thanks, venerable friend,' replied Geraint;
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
'So that ye do not serve me sparrow-hawks
For supper, I will enter, I will eat
With all the passion of a twelve hours' fast.'
Then sigh'd and smiled the hoary-headed Earl,
And answer'd, 'Graver cause than yours is mine
To curse this hedgerow thief, the sparrow-hawk :
But in, go in; for save yourself desire it,
We will not touch upon him ev'n in jest.'
Then rode Geraint into the castle court,
His charger trampling many a prickly star
Of sprouted thistle on the broken stones.
He look'd and saw that all was ruinous.
Here stood a shatter'd archway plumed with fern
And here had fall'n a great part of a tower,
Whole, like a crag that tumbles from the cliff,
And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers:
And high above a piece of turret stair,
Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound
Bare to the sun, and monstrous ivy-stems
Claspt the gray walls with hairy-fibred arms,
And suck'd the joining of the stones, and look'd
A knot, beneath, of snakes, aloft, a grove.
And while he waited in the castle court,
The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang
Clear thro' the open casement of the hall,
Singing; and as the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him to think what kind of bird it is
That sings so delicately clear, and make
Conjecture of the plumage and the form;
So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint;
And made him like a man abroad at morn
When first the liquid note beloved of men
Comes flying over many a windy wave
;
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
11
To Britain, aud in April suddenly
Breaks from a coppice gemm'd with green and red,
And he suspends his converse with a friend,
Or it may be the labour of his hands,
To think or say, 'There is the nightingale;'
So fared it with Geraint, who thought and said,
'Here, by God's grace, is the one voice for me.'
It chanced the song that Enid sang was one
Of Fortune and her wheel, and Enid sang:
340
'Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;
Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
351
'Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
With that wild wheel we go not up or down ;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
'Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
For man is man and master of his fate.
'Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.'
'Hark, by the bird's song ye may learn the nest,'
Said Yniol; 'enter quickly.' Entering then,
Right o'er a mount of newly-fallen stones,
The dusky-rafter'd many-cobweb'd hall,
He found an ancient dame in dim brocade;
And near her, like a blossom vermeil-white,
That lightly breaks a faded flower-sheath,
Moved the fair Enid, all in faded silk,
Her daughter. In a moment thought Geraint,
'Here by God's rood is the one maid for me.'
360
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
But none spake word except the hoary Earl :
'Enid, the good knight's horse stands in the court;
Take him to stall, and give him corn, and then
Go to the town and buy us flesh and wine;
And we will make us merry as we may.
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.'
:
He spake the Prince, as Enid past him, fain
To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol caught
His purple scarf, and held, and said, 'Forbear!
Rest! the good house, tho' ruin'd, O my son,
Endures not that her guest should serve himself.'
And reverencing the custom of the house.
Geraint, from utter courtesy, forbore.
So Enid took his charger to the stall;
And after went her way across the bridge,
And reach'd the town, and while the Prince and Earl
Yet spoke together, came again with one,
A youth, that following with a costrel bore
The means of goodly welcome, flesh and wine.
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And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them cheer
And in her veil enfolded, manchet bread.
And then, because their hall must also serve
390
For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread the board,
And stood behind, and waited on the three.
And seeing her so sweet and serviceable,
Geraint had longing in him evermore
To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb,
That crost the trencher as she laid it down:
But after all had eaten, then Geraint,
For now the wine made summer in his veins,
Let his eye rove in following, or rest
On Enid at her lowly handmaid-work,
400
Now here, now there, about the dusky hall;
Then suddenly addrest the hoary Earl:
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
13
'Fair Host and Earl, I pray your courtesy ;
This sparrow-hawk, what is he? tell me of him.
His name? but no, good faith, I will not have it:
For if he be the knight whom late I saw
Ride into that new fortress by your town,
White from the mason's hand, then have I sworn
From his own lips to have it-I am Geraint
Of Devon-for this morning when the Queen
Sent her own maiden to demand the name,
His dwarf, a vicious under-shapen thing,
Struck at her with his whip, and she return'd
Indignant to the Queen; and then I swore
That I would track this caitiff to his hold,
And fight and break his pride, and have it of him.
And all unarm'd I rode, and thought to find
Arms in your town, where all the men are mad
They take the rustic murmur of their bourg
For the great wave that echoes round the world;
They would not hear me speak: but if ye know
Where I can light on arms, or if yourself
Should have them, tell me, seeing I have sworn
That I will break his pride and learn his name,
Avenging this great insult done the Queen.'
Then cried Earl Yniol, Art thou he indeed,
Geraint, a name far-sounded among men
For noble deeds? and truly I, when first
I saw you moving by me on the bridge,
Felt ye were somewhat, yea, and by your state
;
And presence might have guess'd you one of those
That eat in Arthur's hall at Camelot.
Nor speak I now from foolish flattery;
For this dear child hath often heard me praise
Your feats of arms, and often when I paused
Hath ask'd again, and ever loved to hear;
So grateful is the noise of noble deeds
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14
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
To noble hearts who see but acts of wrong:
O never yet had woman such a pair
Of suitors as this maiden; first Limours,
A creature wholly given to brawls and wine,
Drunk even when he woo'd; and be he dead
I know not, but he past to the wild land.
The second was your foe, the sparrow-hawk,
My curse, my nephew-I will not let his name
Slip from my lips if I can help it-he,
When I that knew him fierce and turbulent
Refused her to him, then his pride awoke ;
And since the proud man often is the mean,
He sow'd a slander in the common ear,
Affirming that his father left him gold,
And in my charge, which was not render'd to him;
Bribed with large promises the men who served
About my person, the more easily
Because my means were somewhat broken into
Thro' open doors and hospitality;
Raised my own town against me in the night
Before my Enid's birthday, sack'd my house;
From mine own earldom foully ousted me;
Built that new fort to overawe my friends,
For truly there are those who love me yet;
And keeps me in this ruinous castle here,
Where doubtless he would put me soon to death,
But that his pride too much despises me :
And I myself sometimes despise myself;
For I have let men be, and have their way;
Am much too gentle, have not used my power:
Nor know I whether I be very base
Or very manful, whether very wise
Or very foolish; only this I know,
That whatsoever evil happen to me,
I seem to suffer nothing heart or limb,
But can endure it all most patiently.'
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THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
15
'Well said, true heart,' replied Geraint, but arms,
That if the sparrow-hawk, this nephew, fight
In next day's tourney I may break his pride.'
And Yniol answer'd, 'Arms, indeed, but old
And rusty, old and rusty, Prince Geraint,
Are mine, and therefore at thine asking, thine.
But in this tournament can no man tilt,
Except the lady he loves best be there.
Two forks are fixt into the meadow ground,
And over these is placed a silver wand,
And over that a golden sparrow-hawk,
The prize of beauty for the fairest there.
And this, what knight soever be in field
Lays claim to for the lady at his side,
And tilts with my good nephew thereupon,
Who being apt at arms and big of bone
Has ever won it for the lady with him,
And toppling over all antagonism
Has earn'd himself the name of sparrow-hawk.
But thou, that hast no lady, canst not fight.'
To whom Geraint with eyes all bright replied,
Leaning a little toward him, Thy leave!
Let me lay lance in rest, O noble host,
For this dear child, because I never saw,
Tho' having seen all beauties of our time,
Nor can see elsewhere, anything so fair.
And if I fall her name will yet remain
Untarnish'd as before; but if I live,
So aid me Heaven when at mine uttermost,
As I will make her truly my true wife.'
Then, howsoever patient, Yniol's heart
Danced in his bosom, seeing better days.
And looking round he saw not Enid there,
480
490
500
16
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT,
(Who hearing her own name had stol'n away)
But that old dame, to whom full tenderly
And fondling all her hand in his he said,
'Mother, a maiden is a tender thing,
And best by her that bore her understood.
Go thou to rest, but ere thou go to rest
Tell her, and prove her heart toward the Prince.'
So spake the kindly-hearted Earl, and she
With frequent smile and nod departing found,
Half disarray'd as to her rest, the girl;
Whom first she kiss'd on either cheek, and then
On either shining shoulder laid a hand,
And kept her off and gazed upon her face,
And told her all their converse in the hall,
Proving her heart: but never light and shade
Coursed one another more on open ground
Beneath a troubled heaven, than red and pale
Across the face of Enid hearing her;
While slowly falling as a scale that falls,
When weight is added only grain by grain,
Sank her sweet head upon her gentle breast ;
Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word,
Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it;
So moving without answer to her rest
She found no rest, and ever fail'd to draw
The quiet night into her blood, but lay
Contemplating her own unworthiness;
And when the pale and bloodless east began
To quicken to the sun, arose, and raised
Her mother too, and hand in hand they moved
Down to the meadow where the jousts were held,
And waited there for Yniol and Geraint.
510
520
530
And thither came the twain, and when Geraint
Beheld her first in field, awaiting him,
540
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
17
He felt, were she the prize of bodily force,
Himself beyond the rest pushing could move
The chair of Idris. Yniol's rusted arms
550
Were on his princely person, but thro' these
Princelike his bearing shone; and errant knights
And ladies came, and by and by the town
Flow'd in, and settling circled all the lists.
And there they fixt the forks into the ground,
And over these they placed the silver wand,
And over that the golden sparrow-hawk.
Then Yniol's nephew, after trumpet blown,
Spake to the lady with him and proclaim'd,
Advance and take, as fairest of the fair,
What I these two years past have won for thee,
The prize of beauty.' Loudly spake the Prince,
'Forbear: there is a worthier,' and the knight
With some surprise and thrice as much disdain
Turn'd, and beheld the four, and all his face
Glow'd like the heart of a great fire at Yule,
So burnt he was with passion, crying out,
'Do battle for it then,' no more; and thrice
They clash'd together, and thrice they brake their spears.
Then each, dishorsed and drawing, lash'd at each
So often and with such blows, that all the crowd
Wonder'd, and now and then from distant walls
There came a clapping as of phantom hands.
560
So twice they fought, and twice they breathed, and still
The dew of their great labour, and the blood
Of their strong bodies, flowing, drain'd their force.
But either's force was match'd till Yniol's cry,
'Remember that great insult done the Queen,'
Increased Geraint's, who heaved his blade aloft,
And crack'd the helmet thro', and bit the bone,
And fell'd him, and set foot upon his breast,
And said, 'Thy name?' To whom the fallen man
Made answer, groaning, ‘Edyrn, son of Nudd!
B
570
18
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
Ashamed am I that I should tell it thee.
My pride is broken: men have seen my fall.'
Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd,' replied Geraint,
'These two things shalt thou do, or else thou diest.
First, thou thyself, with damsel and with dwarf,
Shalt ride to Arthur's court, and coming there,
Crave pardon for that insult done the Queen,
And shalt abide her judgment on it; next,
Thou shalt give back their earldom to thy kin.
These two things shalt thou do, or thou shalt die.'
And Edyrn answer'd, 'These things will I do,
For I have never yet been overthrown,
And thou hast overthrown me, and my pride
Is broken down, for Enid sees my fall!'
And rising up, he rode to Arthur's court,
And there the Queen forgave him easily.
And being young, he changed and came to loathe
His crime of traitor, slowly drew himself
Bright from his old dark life, and fell at last
In the great battle fighting for the King.
But when the third day from the hunting-morn
Made a low splendour in the world, and wings
Moved in her ivy, Enid, for she lay
With her fair head in the dim-yellow light,
Among the dancing shadows of the birds,
Woke and bethought her of her promise given
No later than last eve to Prince Geraint-
So bent he seem'd on going the third day,
He would not leave her, till her promise given-
To ride with him this morning to the court,
And there be made known to the stately Queen,
And there be wedded with all ceremony.
At this she cast her eyes upon her dress,
And thought it never yet had look'd so mean.
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590
600
610
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
19
For as a leaf in mid-November is
To what it was in mid-October, seem'd
The dress that now she look'd on to the dress
She look'd on ere the coming of Geraint.
And still she look'd, and still the terror grew
Of that strange bright and dreadful thing, a court,
All staring at her in her faded silk:
And softly to her own sweet heart she said :
'This noble prince who won our earldom back,
So splendid in his acts and his attire,
Sweet heaven, how much I shall discredit him!
Would he could tarry with us here awhile,
But being so beholden to the Prince,
It were but little grace in any of us,
Bent as he seem'd on going this third day,
To seek a second favour at his hands.
Yet if he could but tarry a day or two,
Myself would work eye dim, and finger lame,
Far liefer than so much discredit him.'
620
And Enid fell in longing for a dress
All branch'd and flower'd with gold, a costly gift
Of her good mother, given her on the night
Before her birthday, three sad years ago,
That night of fire, when Edyrn sack'd their house,
And scatter'd all they had to all the winds :
For while the mother show'd it, and the two
Were turning and admiring it, the work
To both appear'd so costly, rose a cry
That Edyrn's men were on them, and they fled
With little save the jewels they had on,
Which being sold and sold had bought them bread:
And Edyrn's men had caught them in their flight,
And placed them in this ruin; and she wish'd
630
640
20
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
The Prince had found her in her ancient home;
Then let her fancy flit across the past,
And roam the goodly places that she knew;
And last bethought her how she used to watch,
Near that old home, a pool of golden carp;
And one was patch'd and blurr'd and lustreless
Among his burnish'd brethren of the pool;
And half asleep she made comparison
Of that and these to her own faded self
And the gay court, and fell asleep again;
And dreamt herself was such a faded form
Among her burnish'd sisters of the pool;
But this was in the garden of a king;
And tho' she lay dark in the pool, she knew
That all was bright; that all about were birds
Of sunny plume in gilded trellis-work ;
650
That all the turf was rich in plots that look'd
Each like a garnet or a turkis in it;
And lords and ladies of the high court went
In silver tissue talking things of state;
660
And children of the King in cloth of gold
Glanced at the doors or gambol'd down the walks;
And while she thought 'They will not see me,' came
A stately queen whose name was Guinevere,
And all the children in their cloth of gold
Ran to her, crying, 'If we have fish at all
Let them be gold; and charge the gardeners now
To pick the faded creature from the pool,
670
And cast it on the mixen that it die.'
And therewithal one came and seized on her,
And Enid started waking, with her heart
All overshadow'd by the foolish dream,
And lo! it was her mother grasping her
To get her well awake; and in her hand
A suit of bright apparel, which she laid
Flat on the couch, and spoke exultingly :
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
21
'See here, my child, how fresh the colours look,
How fast they hold like colours of a shell
That keeps the wear and polish of the wave.
680
Why not? It never yet was worn, I trow:
Look on it, child, and tell me if ye know it.'
And Enid look'd, but all confused at first,
Could scarce divide it from her foolish dream:
Then suddenly she knew it and rejoiced,
And answer'd, 'Yea, I know it; your good gift,
So sadly lost on that unhappy night;
Your own good gift!' 'Yea, surely,' said the dame, 690
'And gladly given again this happy morn.
For when the jousts were ended yesterday,
Went Yniol thro' the town, and everywhere
He found the sack and plunder of our house
All scatter'd thro' the houses of the town;
And gave command that all which once was ours
Should now be ours again: and yester-eve,
While ye were talking sweetly with your Prince,
Came one with this and laid it in my hand,
For love or fear, or seeking favour of us,
Because we have our earldom back again.
And yester-eve I would not tell you of it,
But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn.
Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise?
For I myself unwillingly have worn
My faded suit, as you, my child, have yours,
And howsoever patient, Yniol his.
Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house,
With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare,
And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal,
And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all
That appertains to noble maintenance.
Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house;
But since our fortune swerved from sun to shade,
700
710
22
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
And all thro' that young traitor, cruel need
Constrain'd us, but a better time has come;
So clothe yourself in this, that better fits
Our mended fortunes and a Prince's bride:
For tho' ye won the prize of fairest fair,
And tho' I heard him call you fairest fair,
Let never maiden think, however fair,
She is not fairer in new clothes than old.
And should some great court-lady say, the Prince
Hath pick'd a ragged-robin from the hedge,
And like a madman brought her to the court,
720
Then were ye shamed, and, worse, might shame the Prince
To whom we are beholden; but I know,
When my dear child is set forth at her best,
That neither court nor country, tho' they sought
Thro' all the provinces like those of old
That lighted on Queen Esther, has her match.'
Here ceased the kindly mother out of breath;
And Enid listen'd brightening as she lay;
Then, as the white and glittering star of morn
Parts from a bank of snow, and by and by
Slips into golden cloud, the maiden rose,
And left her maiden couch, and robed herself,
Help'd by the mother's careful hand and eye,
Without a mirror, in the gorgeous gown;
Who, after, turn'd her daughter round, and said,
She never yet had seen her half so fair;
And call'd her like that maiden in the tale,
Whom Gwydion made by glamour out of flowers,
And sweeter than the bride of Cassivelaun,
Flur, for whose love the Roman Cæsar first
Invaded Britain, 'But we beat him back,
As this great Prince invaded us, and we,
Not beat him back, but welcomed him with joy.
And I can scarcely ride with you to court,
730
740
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
23
For old am I, and rough the ways and wild ;
But Yniol goes, and I full oft shall dream
I see my princess as I see her now,
Clothed with my gift, and gay among the gay.'
But while the women thus rejoiced, Geraint
Woke where he slept in the high hall, and call'd
For Enid, and when Yniol made report
Of that good mother making Enid gay
In such apparel as might well beseem
His princess, or indeed the stately Queen,
He answer'd: 'Earl, entreat her by my love,
Albeit I give no reason but my wish,
That she ride with me in her faded silk.'
Yniol with that hard message went; it fell
Like flaws in summer laying lusty corn :
For Enid, all abash'd she knew not why,
Dared not to glance at her good mother's face,
But silently, in all obedience,
Her mother silent too, nor helping her,
Laid from her limbs the costly-broider'd gift,
And robed them in her ancient suit again,
And so descended. Never man rejoiced.
More than Geraint to greet her thus attired;
And glancing all at once as keenly at her
As careful robins eye the delver's toil,
Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall,
But rested with her sweet face satisfied;
Then seeing cloud upon the mother's brow,
Her by both hands he caught, and sweetly said,
'O my new mother, be not wroth or grieved
At thy new son, for my petition to her.
When late I left Caerleon, our great Queen,
In words whose echo lasts, they were so sweet,
Made promise, that whatever bride I brought,
750
760
770
780
24
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
Herself would clothe her like the sun in Heaven,
Thereafter, when I reach'd this ruin'd hall,
Beholding one so bright in dark estate,
I vow'd that could I gain her, our fair Queen,
No hand but hers, should make your Enid burst
Sunlike from cloud-and likewise thought perhaps,
That service done so graciously would bind
The two together; fain I would the two
Should love each other: how can Enid find
A nobler friend? Another thought was mine;
I came among you here so suddenly,
That tho' her gentle presence at the lists
Might well have served for proof that I was loved,
I doubted whether daughter's tenderness,
Or easy nature, might not let itself
Be moulded by your wishes for her weal;
790
Or whether some false sense in her own self
800
Of my contrasting brightness, overbore
Her fancy dwelling in this dusky hall;
And such a sense might make her long for court
And all its perilous glories: and I thought,
That could I someway prove such force in her
Link'd with such love for me, that at a word
(No reason given her) she could cast aside
A splendour dear to women, new to her,
And therefore dearer; or if not so new,
Yet therefore tenfold dearer by the power
Of intermitted usage; then I felt
That I could rest, a rock in ebbs and flows,
Fixt on her faith. Now, therefore, I do rest,
A prophet certain of my prophecy,
That never shadow of mistrust can cross
Between us. Grant me pardon for my thoughts:
And for my strange petition I will make
Amends hereafter by some gaudy-day,
When your fair child shall wear your costly gift
810
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
25
Beside your own warm hearth, with, on her knees,
Who knows? another gift of the high God,
Which, maybe, shall have learn'd to lisp you thanks.'
:
He spoke the mother smiled, but half in tears,
Then brought a mantle down and wrapt her in it,
And claspt and kiss'd her, and they rode away.
Now thrice that morning Guinevere had climb’d
The giant tower, from whose high crest, they say,
Men saw the goodly hills of Somerset,
And white sails flying on the yellow sea;
But not to goodly hill or yellow sea
Look'd the fair Queen, but up the vale of Usk,
By the flat meadow, till she saw them come;
And then descending met them at the gates,
Embraced her with all welcome as a friend,
And did her honour as the Prince's bride,
And clothed her for her bridals like the sun;
And all that week was old Caerleon gay,
For by the hands of Dubric, the high saint,
They twain were wedded with all ceremony.
820
830
And this was on the last year's Whitsuntide.
But Enid ever kept the faded silk,
Remembering how first he came on her,
840
Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it,
And all her foolish fears about the dress,
And all his journey toward her, as himself
Had told her, and their coming to the court.
And now this morning when he said to her,
'Put on your worst and meanest dress,' she found
And took it, and array'd herself therein.
GERAINT AND ENID.
O PURBLIND race of miserable men,
How many among us at this very hour
Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves,
By taking true for false, or false for true ;
Here, thro' the feeble twilight of this world
Groping, how many, until we pass and reach
That other, where we see as we are seen!
So fared it with Geraint, who issuing forth
That morning, when they both had got to horse,
Perhaps because he loved her passionately,
And felt that tempest brooding round his heart,
Which, if he spoke at all, would break perforce
Upon a head so dear in thunder, said:
'Not at my side. I charge thee ride before,
Ever a good way on before; and this
I charge thee, on thy duty as a wife,
Whatever happens, not to speak to me,
No, not a word!' and Enid was aghast;
10
And forth they rode, but scarce three paces on,
When crying out, 'Effeminate as I am,
20
I will not fight my way with gilded arms,
All shall be iron;' he loosed a mighty purse,
Hung at his belt, and hurl'd it toward the squire.
So the last sight that Enid had of home
26
GERAINT AND ENID.
27
Was all the marble threshold flashing, strown
With gold and scatter'd coinage, and the squire
Chafing his shoulder: then he cried again,
'To the wilds!' and Enid leading down the tracks
Thro' which he bad her lead him on, they past
The marches, and by bandit-haunted holds,
Gray swamps and pools, waste places of the hern,
And wildernesses, perilous paths, they rode:
Round was their pace at first, but slacken'd soon:
A stranger meeting them had surely thought
They rode so slowly and they look'd so pale,
That each had suffer'd some exceeding wrong.
For he was ever saying to himself,
'O I that wasted time to tend upon her,
To compass her with sweet observances,
To dress her beautifully and keep her true '—
And there he broke the sentence in his heart
Abruptly, as a man upon his tongue
May break it, when his passion masters him.
And she was ever praying the sweet heavens
To save her dear lord whole from any wound.
And ever in her mind she cast about
30
40
For that unnoticed failing in herself,
Which made him look so cloudy and so cold;
Till the great plover's human whistle amazed
Her heart, and glancing round the waste she fear'd
50
In every wavering brake an ambuscade.
Then thought again, 'If there be such in me,
I might amend it by the grace of Heaven,
If he would only speak and tell me of it.'
But when the fourth part of the day was gone,
Then Enid was aware of three tall knights
On horseback, wholly arm'd, behind a rock
In shadow, waiting for them, caitiffs all;
And heard one crying to his fellow, 'Look,
28
GERAINT AND ENID.
Here comes a laggard hanging down his head,
Who seems no bolder than a beaten hound ;
Come, we will slay him and will have his horse
And armour, and his damsel shall be ours.'
Then Enid ponder'd in her heart, and said:
'I will go back a little to my lord,
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me,
Far liefer by his dear hand had I die,
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame.'
Then she went back some paces of return,
Met his full frown timidly firm, and said;
'My lord, I saw three bandits by the rock
Waiting to fall on you, and heard them boast
That they would slay you, and possess your horse
And armour, and your damsel should be theirs.'
He made a wrathful answer: Did I wish
Your warning or your silence? one command
I laid upon you, not to speak to me,
And thus ye keep it! Well then, look-for now,
Whether ye wish me victory or defeat,
Long for my life, or hunger for my death,
Yourself shall see my vigour is not lost.'
Then Enid waited pale and sorrowful,
And down upon him bare the bandit three.
And at the mid most charging, Prince Geraint
Drave the long spear a cubit thro' his breast
And out beyond; and then against his brace
Of comrades, each of whom had broken on him
A lance that splinter'd like an icicle,
60
70
80
Swung from his brand a windy buffet out
90
Once, twice, to right, to left, and stunn'd the twain
GERAINT AND ENID.
29
Or slew them, and dismounting like a man
That skins the wild beast after slaying him,
Stript from the three dead wolves of woman born
The three gay suits of armour which they wore,
And let the bodies lie, but bound the suits
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
Accuse her of the least immodesty :
And thus tongue-tied, it made him wroth the more
That she could speak whom his own ear had heard
Call herself false and suffering thus he made
Minutes an age: but in scarce longer time
Than at Caerleon the full-tided Usk,
Before he turn to fall seaward again,
Pauses, did Enid, keeping watch, behold
In the first shallow shade of a deep wood,
Before a gloom of stubborn shafted oaks,
Three other horsemen waiting, wholly arm'd,
Whereof one seem'd far larger than her lord,
And shook her pulses, crying, 'Look, a prize !
Three horses and three goodly suits of arms,
And all in charge of whom? a girl: set on.'
'Nay,' said the second, 'yonder comes a knight.'
-
100
110
120
30
GERAINT AND ENID.
The third, 'A craven; how he hangs his head.'
The giant answer'd merrily, 'Yea, but one?
Wait here, and when he passes fall upon him.'
And Enid ponder'd in her heart and said,
'I will abide the coming of my lord,
And I will tell him all their villainy.
My lord is weary with the fight before,
And they will fall upon him unawares.
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, 'Ye 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
That they will fall upon you while ye pass.'
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
Short fits of prayer, at every stroke a breath.
And he, she dreaded most, bare down upon him.
Aim'd at the helm, his lance err'd; but Geraint's,
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140
150
GERAINT AND ENID.
31
A little in the late encounter strain'd,
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
Saw once a great piece of a promontory,
That had a sapling growing on it, slide
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,
When now they saw their bulwark fallen, stood;
On whom the victor, to confound them more,
Spurr'd with his terrible war-cry; for as one,
That listens near a torrent mountain-brook,
All thro' the crash of the near cataract hears
The drumming thunder of the huger fall
At distance, were the soldiers wont to hear
His voice in battle, and be kindled by it,
And foemen scared, like that false pair who turn'd
Flying, but, overtaken, died the death
Themselves had wrought on many an innocent.
Thereon Geraint, dismounting, pick'd the lance
160
170
That pleased him best, and drew from those dead wolves 180
Their three gay suits of armour, each from each,
And bound them 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 wood.
He follow'd nearer still the pain she had
To keep them in the wild ways of the wood,
Two sets of three laden with jingling arms,
Together, served a little to disedge
The sharpness of that pain about her heart :
And they themselves, like creatures gently born
190
32
GERAINT AND ENID.
But into bad hands fall'n, and now so long
By bandits groom'd, prick'd their light ears, and felt
Her low firm voice and tender government.
So thro' the green gloom of the wood they past,
And issuing under open heavens beheld
A little town with towers, upon a rock,
And close beneath, a meadow gemlike chased
In the brown wild, and mowers mowing in it:
And down a rocky pathway from the place
There came a fair-hair'd youth, that in his hand
Bare victual for the mowers and Geraint
Had ruth again on Enid looking pale:
Then, moving downward to the meadow ground,
He, when the fair-hair'd youth came by him, said,
'Friend, let her eat; the damsel is so faint.'
'Yea, willingly,' replied the youth; and thou,
My lord, eat also, tho' the fare is coarse,
And only meet for mowers;' then set down
His basket, and dismounting on the sward
They let the horses graze, and ate themselves.
And Enid took a little delicately,
Less having stomach for it than desire
To close with her lord's pleasure; but Geraint
Ate all the mowers' victual unawares,
And when he found all empty, was amazed ;
And 'Boy,' said he, 'I have eaten all, but take
A horse and arms for guerdon; choose the best.'
He, reddening in extremity of delight,
'My lord, you overpay me fifty-fold.'
'Ye will be all the wealthier,' cried the Prince.
'I take it as free gift, then,' said the boy,
'Not guerdon; for myself can easily,
While your good damsel rests, return, and fetch
Fresh victual for these mowers of our Earl;
For these are his, and all the field is his,
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210
220
GERAINT AND ENID.
33
And I myself am his; and I will tell him
How great a man thou art he loves to know
When men of mark are in his territory:
And he will have thee to his palace here,
230
And serve thee costlier than with mowers' fare.'
Then said Geraint, 'I wish no better fare:
I never ate with angrier appetite
Than when I left your mowers dinnerless.
And into no Earl's palace will I go.
I know, God knows, too much of palaces!
And if he want me, let him come to me.
But hire us some fair chamber for the night,
And stalling for the horses, and return
With victual for these men, and let us know.'
240
'Yea, my kind lord,' said the glad youth, and went,
Held his head high, and thought himself a knight,
And up the rocky pathway disappear'd,
Leading the horse, and they were left alone.
But when the Prince had brought his errant eyes
Home from the rock, sideways he let them glance
At Enid, where she droopt: his own false doom,
That shadow of mistrust should never cross
Betwixt them, came upon him, and he sigh'd;
Then with another humorous ruth remark'd
The lusty mowers labouring dinnerless,
And watch'd the sun blaze on the turning scythe,
And after nodded sleepily in the heat.
But she, remembering her old ruin'd hall,
And all the windy clamour of the daws
About her hollow turret, pluck'd the grass
There growing longest by the meadow's edge,
And into many a listless annulet,
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GERAINT AND ENID.
Now over, now beneath her marriage ring,
Wove and unwove it, till the boy return'd
And told them of a chamber, and they went ;
Where, after saying to her, 'If ye will,
Call for the woman of the house,' to which
She answer'd, 'Thanks, my lord;' the two remain'd
Apart by all the chamber's width, and mute
As creatures voiceless thro' the fault of birth,
Or two wild men supporters of a shield,
Painted, who stare at open space, nor glance
The one at other, parted by the shield.
On a sudden, many a voice along the street,
And heel against the pavement echoing, burst
Their drowse; and either started while the door,
Push'd from without, drave backward to the wall,
And midmost of a rout of roisterers,
Femininely fair and dissolutely pale,
Her suitor in old years before Geraint,
Enter'd, the wild lord of the place, Limours.
He moving up with pliant courtliness,
Greeted Geraint full face, but stealthily,
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In the mid-warmth of welcome and graspt hand,
Found Enid with the corner of his eye,
And knew her sitting sad and solitary.
280
Then cried Geraint for wine and goodly cheer
To feed the sudden guest, and sumptuously
According to his fashion, bad the host
Call in what men soever were his friends,
And feast with these in honour of their Earl;
'And care not for the cost; the cost is mine.'
And wine and food were brought, and Earl Limours
Drank till he jested with all ease, and told
Free tales, and took the word and play'd upon it,
And made it of two colours; for his talk,
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GERAINT AND ENID.
35
When wine and free companions kindled him,
Was wont to glance and sparkle like a gem
Of fifty facets; thus he moved the Prince
To laughter and his comrades to applause.
Then, when the Prince was merry, ask'd Limours,
'Your leave, my lord, to cross the room, and speak
To your good damsel there who sits apart,
And seems so lonely?' 'My free leave,' he said;
'Get her to speak: she doth not speak to me.'
Then rose Limours, and looking at his feet,
Like him who tries the bridge he fears may fail,
Crost and came near, lifted adoring eyes,
Bow'd at her side and utter'd whisperingly :
'Enid, the pilot star of my lone life,
Enid, my early and my only love,
Enid, the loss of whom hath turn'd me wild-
What chance is this? how is it I see you here?
Ye are in my power at last, are in my power.
Yet fear me not: I call mine own self wild,
But keep a touch of sweet civility
Here in the heart of waste and wilderness.
I thought, but that your father came between,
In former days you saw me favourably.
And if it were so do not keep it back :
Make me a little happier : let me know it :
Owe you me nothing for a life half-lost?
Yea, yea, the whole dear debt of all you are.
And, Enid, you and he, I see with joy,
Ye sit apart, you do not speak to him,
You come with no attendance, page or maid,
To serve you-doth he love you as of old?
For, call it lovers' quarrels, yet I know
Tho' men may bicker with the things they love,
They would not make them laughable in all eyes,
Not while they loved them; and your wretched dress,
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36
GERAINT AND ENID.
A wretched insult on you, dumbly speaks
Your story, that this man loves you no more.
Your beauty is no beauty to him now :
A common chance-right well I know it-pall'd-
For I know men: nor will ye win him back,
For the man's love once gone never returns.
But here is one who loves you as of old;
With more exceeding passion than of old:
Good, speak the word: my followers ring him round:
He sits unarm'd; I hold a finger up;
They understand: nay; I do not mean blood :
Nor need ye look so scared at what I say :
My malice is no deeper than a moat,
No stronger than a wall: there is the keep ;
He shall not cross us more; speak but the word:
Or speak it not; but then by Him that made me
The one true lover whom you ever own'd,
I will make use of all the power I have.
O pardon me! the madness of that hour,
When first I parted from thee, moves me yet.'
At this the tender sound of his own voice
And sweet self-pity, or the fancy of it,
Made his eye moist; but Enid fear'd his eyes,
Moist as they were, wine-heated from the feast;
And answer'd with such craft as women use,
Guilty or guiltless, to stave off a chance
That breaks upon them perilously, and said :
'Earl, if you love me as in former years,
And do not practise on me, come with morn,
And snatch me from him as by violence;
Leave me to-night: I am weary to the death.'
Low at leave-taking, with his brandish'd plume
Brushing his instep, bow'd the all-amorous Earl,
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GERAINT AND ENID.
37
And the stout Prince bad him a loud good-night.
He moving homeward babbled to his men,
How Enid never loved a man but him,
Nor cared a broken egg-shell for her lord.
But Enid left alone with Prince Geraint,
Debating his command of silence given,
And that she now perforce must violate it,
Held commune with herself, and while she held
He fell asleep, and Enid had no heart
To wake him, but hung o'er him, wholly pleased
370
To find him yet unwounded after fight,
And hear him breathing low and equally.
Anon she rose, and stepping lightly, heap'd
The pieces of his armour in one place,
All to be there against a sudden need;
Then dozed awhile herself, but overtoil'd
By that day's grief and travel, evermore
Seem'd catching at a rootless thorn, and then
Went slipping down horrible precipices,
And strongly striking out her limbs awoke ;
380
Then thought she heard the wild Earl at the door,
With all his rout of random followers,
Sound on a dreadful trumpet, summoning her;
Which was the red cock shouting to the light,
As the gray dawn stole o'er the dewy world,
And glimmer'd on his armour in the room.
And once again she rose to look at it,
But touch'd it unawares: jangling, the casque
Fell, and he started up and stared at her.
Then breaking his command of silence given,
She told him all that Earl Limours had said,
Except the passage that he loved her not;
Nor left untold the craft herself had used;
But ended with apology so sweet,
Low-spoken, and of so few words, and seem'd
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GERAINT AND ENID.
So justified by that necessity,
That tho' he thought 'was it for him she wept
In Devon?' he but gave a wrathful groan,
Saying, 'Your sweet faces make good fellows fools
And traitors. Call the host and bid him bring
Charger and palfrey.' So she glided out
Among the heavy breathings of the house,
And like a household Spirit at the walls
Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and return'd:
Then tending her rough lord, tho' all unask'd,
In silence, did him service as a squire;
Till issuing arm'd he found the host and cried,
'Thy reckoning, friend?' and ere he learnt it, ‘Take
Five horses and their armours;' and the host
Suddenly honest, answer'd in amaze,
'My lord, I scarce have spent the worth of one!'
'Ye will be all the wealthier,' said the Prince,
And then to Enid, 'Forward! and to-day
I charge you, Enid, more especially,
What thing soever ye may hear, or see,
Or fancy (tho' I count it of small use
To charge you) that ye speak not but obey.'
And Enid answer'd, 'Yea, my lord, I know
Your wish, and would obey: but riding first,
I hear the violent threats you do not hear,
I see the danger which you cannot see:
Then not to give you warning, that seems hard;
Almost beyond me: yet I would obey.'
'Yea, so,' said he, 'do it: be not too wise;
Seeing that ye are wedded to a man,
Not all mismated with a yawning clown,
But one with arms to guard his head and yours,
With eyes to find you out however far,
And ears to hear you even in his dreams.'
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GERAINT AND ENID.
39
With that he turn'd and look'd as keenly at her
As careful robins eye the delver's toil;
And that within her, which a wanton fool,
Or hasty judger would have call'd her guilt,
Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall.
And Geraint look'd and was not satisfied.
Then forward by a way which, beaten broad,
Led from the territory of false Limours
To the waste earldom of another earl,
Doorn, whom his shaking vassals call'd the Bull,
Went Enid with her sullen follower on.
Once she look'd back, and when she saw him ride
More near by many a rood than yestermorn,
It wellnigh made her cheerful; till Geraint
Waving an angry hand as who should say
'Ye watch me,' sadden'd all her heart again.
But while the sun yet beat a dewy blade,
The sound of many a heavily-galloping hoof
Smote on her ear, and turning round she saw
Dust, and the points of lances bicker in it.
Then not to disobey her lord's behest,
And yet to give him warning, for he rode
As if he heard not, moving back she held
Her finger up, and pointed to the dust.
At which the warrior in his obstinacy,
Because she kept the letter of his word,
Was in a manner pleased, and turning, stood.
And in the moment after, wild Limours,
Borne on a black horse, like a thunder-cloud
Whose skirts are loosen'd by the breaking storm,
Half ridden off with by the thing he rode,
And all in passion uttering a dry shriek,
Dash'd on Geraint, who closed with him, and bore
Down by the length of lance and arm beyond
The crupper, and so left him stunn'd or dead,
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40
GERAINT AND ENID.
And overthrew the next that follow'd him,
And blindly rush'd on all the rout behind.
But at the flash and motion of the man
They vanish'd panic-stricken, like a shoal
Of darting fish, that on a summer morn
Adown the crystal dykes at Camelot
Come slipping o'er their shadows on the sand,
But if a man who stands upon the brink
But lift a shining hand against the sun,
There is not left the twinkle of a fin
Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower;
So, scared but at the motion of the man,
Fled all the boon companions of the Earl,
And left him lying in the public way;
So vanish friendships only made in wine.
470
Then like a stormy sunlight smiled Geraint,
Who saw the chargers of the two that fell
Start from their fallen lords, and wildly fly,
480
Mixt with the flyers. 'Horse and man,' he said,
'All of one mind and all right-honest friends!
Not a hoof left: and I methinks till now
Was honest-paid with horses and with arms;
I cannot steal or plunder, no nor beg:
And so what say ye, shall we strip him there
Your lover? has your palfrey heart enough
To bear his armour? shall we fast, or dine?
No?-then do thou, being right honest, pray
That we may meet the horsemen of Earl Doorm,
I too would still be honest.' Thus he said:
And sadly gazing on her bridle-reins,
And answering not one word, she led the way.
But as a man to whom a dreadful loss
Falls in a far land, and he knows it not,
But coming back he learns it, and the loss
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GERAINT AND ENID.
41
So pains him that he sickens nigh to death;
So fared it with Geraint, who being prick'd
In combat with the follower of Limours,
Bled underneath his armour secretly,
And so rode on, nor told his gentle wife
What ail'd him, hardly knowing it himself,
Till his eye darken'd and his helmet wagg'd;
And at a sudden swerving of the road,
Tho' happily down on a bank of grass,
The Prince, without a word, from his horse fell.
And Enid heard the clashing of his fall,
Suddenly came, and at his side all pale
Dismounting, loosed the fastenings of his arms,
Nor let her true hand falter, nor blue eye
Moisten, till she had lighted on his wound,
And tearing off her veil of faded silk
Had bared her forehead to the blistering sun,
And swathed the hurt that drain'd her dear lord's life.
Then after all was done that hand could do,
She rested, and her desolation came
Upon her, and she wept beside the way.
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And many past, but none regarded her,
For in that realm of lawless turbulence,
A woman weeping for her murder'd mate
Was cared as much for as a summer shower:
One took him for a victim of Earl Doorm,
Nor dared to waste a perilous pity on him :
Another hurrying past, a man-at-arms,
Rode on a mission to the bandit Earl;
Half whistling and half singing a coarse song,
He drove the dust against her veilless eyes:
Another, flying from the wrath of Doorm
Before an ever-fancied arrow, made
The long way smoke beneath him in his fear ;
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42
GERAINT AND ENID.
At which her palfrey whinnying lifted heel,
And scour'd into the coppices and was lost,
While the great charger stood, grieved like a man.
But at the point of noon the huge Earl Doorm,
Broad-faced with under-fringe of russet beard,
Bound on a foray, rolling eyes of prey,
Came riding with a hundred lances up;
But ere he came, like one that hails a ship,
Cried out with a big voice, 'What, is he dead?'
'No, no, not dead!' she answer'd in all haste.
'Would some of your kind people take him up,
And bear him hence out of this cruel sun?
Most sure am I, quite sure, he is not dead.'
Then said Earl Doorm: 'Well, if he be not dead,
Why wail ye for him thus? ye seem a child.
And be he dead, I count you for a fool;
Your wailing will not quicken him: dead or not,
Ye mar a comely face with idiot tears.
Yet, since the face is comely-some of you,
Here, take him up, and bear him to our hall :
An if he live, we will have him of our band;
And if he die, why earth has earth enough
To hide him. See ye take the charger too,
A noble one.'
He spake, and past away,
But left two brawny spearmen, who advanced,
Each growling like a dog, when his good bone
Seems to be pluck'd at by the village boys
Who love to vex him eating, and he fears
To lose his bone, and lays his foot upon it,
Gnawing and growling: so the ruffians growl'd,
Fearing to lose, and all for a dead man,
Their chance of booty from the morning's raid,
Yet raised and laid him on a litter-bier,
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GERAINT AND ENID.
43
Such as they brought upon their forays out
For those that might be wounded; laid him on it
All in the hollow of his shield, and took
And bore him to the naked hall of Doorm,
(His gentle charger following him unled)
And cast him and the bier in which he lay
Down on an oaken settle in the hall,
And then departed, hot in haste to join
Their luckier mates, but growling as before,
And cursing their lost time, and the dead man,
And their own Earl, and their own souls, and her.
They might as well have blest her: she was deaf
To blessing or to cursing save from one.
So for long hours sat Enid by her lord,
There in the naked hall, propping his head,
And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him.
Till at the last he waken'd from his swoon,
And found his own dear bride propping his head,
And chafing his faint hands, and calling to him;
And felt the warm tears falling on his face ;
And said to his own heart, 'She weeps for me:'
And yet lay still, and feign'd himself as dead,
That he might prove her to the uttermost,
And say to his own heart, 'She weeps for me.'
But in the falling afternoon return'd
The huge Earl Doorm with plunder to the hall.
His lusty spearmen follow'd him with noise :
Each hurling down a heap of things that rang
Against the pavement, cast his lance aside,
And doff'd his helm and then there flutter'd in,
Half-bold, half-frighted, with dilated eyes,
A tribe of women, dress'd in many hues,
And mingled with the spearmen and Earl Doorm
Struck with a knife's haft hard against the board,
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44
GERAINT AND ENID.
And call'd for flesh and wine to feed his spears.
And men brought in whole hogs and quarter beeves,
And all the hall was dim with steam of flesh :
And none spake word, but all sat down at once,
And ate with tumult in the naked hall,
Feeding like horses when you hear them feed;
Till Enid shrank far back into herself,
To shun the wild ways of the lawless tribe.
But when Earl Doorn had eaten all he would,
He roll'd his eyes about the hall, and found
A damsel drooping in a corner of it.
Then he remember'd her, and how she wept;
And out of her there came a power upon him;
And rising on the sudden he said, 'Eat!
I never yet beheld a thing so pale.
God's curse, it makes me mad to see you weep.
Eat! Look yourself. Good luck had your good man,
For were I dead who is it would weep for me?
Sweet lady, never since I first drew breath
Have I beheld a lily like yourself.
And so there lived some colour in your cheek,
There is not one among my gentlewomen
Were fit to wear your slipper for a glove.
But listen to me, and by me be ruled,
And I will do the thing I have not done,
For ye shall share my earldom with me, girl,
And we will live like two birds in one nest,
And I will fetch you forage from all fields,
For I compel all creatures to my will.'
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He spoke the brawny spearman let his cheek
Bulge with the unswallow'd piece, and turning stared;
While some, whose souls the old serpent long had drawn
Down, as the worm draws in the wither'd leaf
And makes it earth, hiss'd each at other's ear
What shall not be recorded-women they,
GERAINT AND ENID.
45
Women, or what had been those gracious things
But now desired the humbling of their best,
Yea, would have help'd him to it and all at once
They hated her, who took no thought of them,
But answer'd in low voice, her meek head yet
Drooping, 'I pray you of your courtesy,
He being as he is, to let me be.'
She spake so low he hardly heard her speak,
But like a mighty patron, satisfied
With what himself had done so graciously,
Assumed that she had thank'd him, adding, 'Yea,
Eat and be glad, for I account you mine.'
She answer'd meekly, 'How should I be glad
Henceforth in all the world at anything,
Until my lord arise and look upon me?'
Here the huge Earl cried out upon her talk,
As all but empty heart and weariness
And sickly nothing; suddenly seized on her,
And bare her by main violence to the board,
And thrust the dish before her, crying, 'Eat.'
'No, no,' said Enid, vext, 'I will not eat
Till yonder man upon the bier arise,
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And eat with me.' 'Drink, then,' he answer'd. 'Here!'
(And fill'd a horn with wine and held it to her,)
'Lo! I, myself, when flush'd with fight, or hot,
God's curse, with anger-often I myself,
Before I well have drunken, scarce can eat:
660
Drink therefore and the wine will change your will.'
'Not so,' she cried, 'by Heaven, I will not drink
Till my dear lord arise and bid me do it,
And drink with me; and if he rise no more,
I will not look at wine until I die.'
46
GERAINT AND ENID.
At this he turn'd all red and paced his hall,
Now gnaw'd his under, now his upper lip,
And coming up close to her, said at last :
'Girl, for I see ye'scorn my courtesies,
Take warning: yonder man is surely dead;
And I compel all creatures to my will.
Not eat nor drink? And wherefore wail for one,
Who put your beauty to this flout and scorn
By dressing it in rags? Amazed am I,
Beholding how ye butt against my wish,
That I forbear you thus: cross me no more.
At least put off to please me this poor gown,
This silken rag, this beggar-woman's weed:
I love that beauty should go beautifully:
For see ye not my gentlewomen here,
How gay, how suited to the house of one
Who loves that beauty should go beautifully?
Rise therefore; robe yourself in this: obey.'
He spoke, and one among his gentlewomen
Display'd a splendid silk of foreign loom,
Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue
Play'd into green, and thicker down the front
With jewels than the sward with drops of dew,
When all night long a cloud clings to the hill,
And with the dawn ascending lets the day
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Strike where it clung: so thickly shone the gems.
But Enid answer'd, harder to be moved
Than hardest tyrants in their day of power,
With life-long injuries burning unavenged,
And now their hour has come; and Enid said :
'In this poor gown my dear lord found me first,
And loved me serving in my father's hall :
In this poor gown I rode with him to court,
GERAINT AND ENID.
47
And there the Queen array'd me like the sun :
In this poor gown he bad me clothe myself,
When now we rode upon this fatal quest
Of honour, where no honour can be gain'd :
And this poor gown I will not cast aside
Until himself arise a living man,
And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough:
Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be:
I never loved, can never love but him :
Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness,
He being as he is, to let me be.'
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Then strode the brute Earl up and down his hall,
And took his russet beard between his teeth;
Last, coming up quite close, and in his mood
Crying, 'I count it of no more avail,
Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you ;
Take my salute,' unknightly with flat hand,
However lightly, smote her on the cheek.
Then Enid, in her utter helplessness,
And since she thought, 'He had not dared to do it,
Except he surely knew my lord was dead,'
Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry,
As of a wild thing taken in the trap,
Which sees the trapper coming thro' the wood.
This heard Geraint, and grasping at his sword,
(It lay beside him in the hollow shield),
Made but a single bound, and with a sweep of it
Shore thro' the swarthy neck, and like a ball
The russet-bearded head roll'd on the floor.
So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead.
And all the men and women in the hall
Rose when they saw the dead man rise, and fled
Yelling as from a spectre, and the two
Were left alone together, and he said:
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GERAINT AND ENID.
C
Enid, I have used you worse than that dead man;
Done you more wrong: we both have undergone
That trouble which has left me thrice your own:
Henceforward I will rather die than doubt.
And here I lay this penance on myself,
Not, tho' mine own ears heard you yestermorn—
You thought me sleeping, but I heard you say,
I heard you say, that you were no true wife:
I swear I will not ask your meaning in it :
I do believe yourself against yourself,
And will henceforward rather die than doubt.'
(
And Enid could not say one tender word,
She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart :
She only pray'd him, 'Fly, they will return
And slay you; fly, your charger is without,
My palfrey lost.' Then, Enid, shall you ride
Behind me.' 'Yea,' said Enid, 'let us go.'
And moving out they found the stately horse,
Who now no more a vassal to the thief,
But free to stretch his limbs in lawful fight,
Neigh'd with all gladness as they came, and stoop'd
With a low whinny toward the pair and she
Kiss'd the white star upon his noble front,
Glad also; then Geraint upon the horse
Mounted, and reach'd a hand, and on his foot
She set her own and climb'd; he turn'd his face
And kiss'd her climbing, and she cast her arms
About him, and at once they rode away.
:
And never yet, since high in Paradise
O'er the four rivers the first roses blew,
Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind
Than lived thro' her, who in that perilous hour
Put hand to hand beneath her husband's heart,
And felt him hers again: she did not weep,
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GERAINT AND ENID.
49
But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist
Like that which kept the heart of Eden green
Before the useful trouble of the rain:
770
Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyes
As not to see before them on the path,
Right in the gateway of the bandit hold,
A knight of Arthur's court, who laid his lance
In rest, and made as if to fall upon him.
Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood,
She, with her mind all full of what had chanced,
Shriek'd to the stranger 'Slay not a dead man!'
'The voice of Enid,' said the knight; but she,
Beholding it was Edyrn son of Nudd,
Was moved so much the more, and shriek'd again,
'O cousin, slay not him who gave you life.'
And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake :
'My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love ;
I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm;
And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him,
Who love you, Prince, with something of the love
Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us.
For once, when I was up so high in pride
That I was halfway down the slope to Hell,
By overthrowing me you threw me higher.
Now, made a knight of Arthur's Table Round,
And since I knew this Earl, when I myself
Was half a bandit in my lawless hour,
I come the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm
(The King is close behind me) bidding him
Disband himself, and scatter all his powers,
Submit, and hear the judgment of the King.'
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'He hears the judgment of the King of kings,'
Cried the wan Prince; and lo, the powers of Doorm 800
Are scatter'd,' and he pointed to the field,
Where, huddled here and there on mound and knoll,
D
50
GERAINT AND ENID.
Were men and women staring and aghast,
While some yet fled; and then he plainlier told
How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall.
But when the knight besought him, 'Follow me,
Prince, to the camp, and in the King's own ear
Speak what has chanced; ye surely have endured
Strange chances here alone;' that other flush'd,
And hung his head, and halted in reply,
Fearing the mild face of the blameless King,
And after madness acted question ask'd:
Till Edyrn crying, 'If ye will not go
To Arthur, then will Arthur come to you,'
'Enough,' he said, 'I follow,' and they went.
But Enid in their going had two fears,
One from the bandit scatter'd in the field,
And one from Edyrn. Every now and then,
When Edyrn rein'd his charger at her side,
She shrank a little. In a hollow land,
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820
From which old fires have broken, men may fear
Fresh fire and ruin. He, perceiving, said:
'Fair and dear cousin, you that most had cause
To fear me, fear no longer, I am changed.
Yourself were first the blameless cause to make
My nature's prideful sparkle in the blood
Break into furious flame; being repulsed
By Yniol and yourself, I schemed and wrought
Until I overturn'd him; then set up
(With one main purpose ever at my heart)
My haughty jousts, and took a paramour ;
Did her mock-honour as the fairest fair,
And, toppling over all antagonism,
So wax'd in pride, that I believed myself
Unconquerable, for I was wellnigh mad:
And, but for my main purpose in these jousts,
830
GERAINT AND ENID.
51
I should have slain your father, seized yourself.
I lived in hope that sometime you would come
To these my lists with him whom best you loved;
And there, poor cousin, with your meek blue eyes,
The truest eyes that ever answer'd Heaven,
Behold me overturn and trample on him.
Then, had you cried, or knelt, or pray'd to me,
I should not less have kill'd him. And you came,-
But once you came, and with your own true eyes
Beheld the man you loved (I speak as one
Speaks of a service done him) overthrow
My proud self, and my purpose three years old,
And set his foot upon me, and give me life.
There was I broken down; there was I saved:
Tho' thence I rode all-shamed, hating the life
He gave me, meaning to be rid of it.
And all the penance the Queen laid upon me
Was but to rest awhile within her court;
Where first as sullen as a beast new-caged,
And waiting to be treated like a wolf,
Because I knew my deeds were known, I found,
Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn,
Such fine reserve and noble reticence,
Manners so kind, yet stately, such a grace
Of tenderest courtesy, that I began
:
To glance behind me at my former life,
And find that it had been the wolf's indeed :
And oft I talk'd with Dubric, the high saint,
Who, with mild heat of holy oratory,
Subdued me somewhat to that gentleness,
Which, when it weds with manhood, makes a man.
And you were often there about the Queen,
But saw me not, or mark'd not if you saw;
Nor did I care or dare to speak with you,
But kept myself aloof till I was changed;
And fear not, cousin; I am changed indeed.'
840
850
860
870
52
GERAINT AND ENID.
He spoke, and Enid easily believed,
Like simple noble natures, credulous
Of what they long for, good in friend or foe,
There most in those who most have done them ill.
And when they reach'd the camp the King himself
Advanced to greet them, and beholding her
Tho' pale, yet happy, ask'd her not a word,
But went apart with Edyrn, whom he held
In converse for a little, and return'd,
And, gravely smiling, lifted her from horse,
And kiss'd her with all pureness, brotherlike,
And show'd an empty tent allotted her,
And glancing for a minute, till he saw her
Pass into it, turn'd to the Prince, and said:
'Prince, when of late ye pray'd me for my leave
To move to your own land, and there defend
Your marches, I was prick'd with some reproof,
As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be,
By having look'd too much thro' alien eyes,
And wrought too long with delegated hands,
Not used mine own: but now behold me come
To cleanse this common sewer of all my realm,
With Edyrn and with others have ye look'd
At Edyrn? have ye seen how nobly changed?
This work of his is great and wonderful.
His very face with change of heart is changed.
The world will not believe a man repents:
And this wise world of ours is mainly right.
Full seldom doth a man repent, or use
Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch
Of blood and custom wholly out of him,
And make all clean, and plant himself afresh.
Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart
As I will weed this land before I go.
I, therefore, made him of our Table Round,
880
890
900
GERAINT AND ENID.
53
Not rashly, but have proved him everyway
One of our noblest, our most valorous,
Sanest and most obedient: and indeed
This work of Edyrn wrought upon himself
After a life of violence, seems to me
A thousand-fold more great and wonderful
Than if some knight of mine, risking his life,
My subject with my subjects under him,
Should make an onslaught single on a realm
Of robbers, tho' he slew them one by one,
And were himself nigh wounded to the death.'
So spake the King; low bow'd the Prince, and felt
His work was neither great nor wonderful,
And past to Enid's tent; and thither came
The King's own leech to look into his hurt;
And Enid tended on him there; and there
Her constant motion round him, and the breath
Of her sweet tendance hovering over him,
Fill'd all the genial courses of his blood
With deeper and with ever deeper love,
As the south-west that blowing Bala lake
Fills all the sacred Dee. So past the days.
But while Geraint lay healing of his hurt,
The blameless King went forth and cast his eyes
On each of all whom Uther left in charge
Long since, to guard the justice of the King:
He look'd and found them wanting; and as now
Men weed the white horse on the Berkshire hills
To keep him bright and clean as heretofore,
He rooted out the slothful officer
Or guilty, which for bribe had wink'd at wrong,
And in their chairs set up a stronger race
910
920
930
With hearts and hands, and sent a thousand men 940
To till the wastes, and moving everywhere
54
GERAINT AND ENID.
Clear'd the dark places and let in the law,
And broke the bandit holds and cleansed the land.
Then, when Geraint was whole again, they past
With Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk.
There the great Queen once more embraced her friend,
And clothed her in apparel like the day.
And tho' Geraint could never take again
That comfort from their converse which he took
Before the Queen's fair name was breathed upon,
He rested well content that all was well.
Thence after tarrying for a space they rode,
And fifty knights rode with them to the shores
Of Severn, and they past to their own land.
And there he kept the justice of the King
So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts
Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died:
And being ever foremost in the chase,
And victor at the tilt and tournament,
950
They call'd him the great Prince and man of men. 960
But Enid, whom her ladies loved to call
Enid the Fair, a grateful people named
Enid the Good; and in their halls arose
The cry of children, Enids and Geraints
Of times to be; nor did he doubt her more,
But rested in her fealty, till he crown'd
A happy life with a fair death, and fell
Against the heathen of the Northern Sea
In battle, fighting for the blameless King.
NOTES.
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
1. Geraint is a Welsh name, which appears in Geoffrey of Mon-
mouth in the form of 'Geruntius' as the name of an early British
king, but the hero of this story is called Erec fiz Lac by Chrestien
de Troyes, and if, as seems probable, the Welsh tale of Geraint
ab Erbin is derived from the French, the story has been trans-
ferred in its Welsh form to the national hero Geraint ab Erbin,
Prince of Dyvnaint (Devon), who 'fell fighting valiantly against
the Saxons, under Arthur's banner, in the battle of Llongborth.'
Lady Charlotte Guest quotes some stanzas from the ancient
Welsh poet Llywarch Hên upon his death:
'At Llongborth I saw the tumult
And the slain drenched in gore,
And red-stained warriors from the assault of the foe.
Before Geraint, the scourge of the enemy,
I saw steeds white with foam,
And after the shout of battle, a fearful torrent.
At Llongborth was Geraint slain,
A valiant warrior from the woodlands of Devon,
Slaughtering foes as he fell.'
We are told also that he was canonized, and a church dedicated
to him at Hereford. Geraint, however, is an exclusively British
hero, whereas the tale of Erec et Enide is a part of the common
stock of European romance. Erec is by Chrestien de Troyes
placed second among the knights of Arthur, Gauvain being first.
2. A tributary prince of Devon etc. Arthur through the
puissance of his Table Round' had made a realm by drawing
together under him the petty princes who warred with one
another, and of these some he made knights of his Order.
Gareth and Lynette, 413 ff., he
says:
In
55
56
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT
'The kings we found, ye know we stayed their hands
From war among themselves, but left them kings;
Of whom were any bounteous, merciful,
Truth-speaking, brave, good livers, them we enroll'd
Among us, and they sit within our hall.'
3. Order of the Table Round. In Morte Darthur, 3, 1 (repre-
senting here the Roman de Merlin), we are told that the Round
Table was presented by King Leodegrance, the father of Guin-
evere, to Arthur at his marriage. It had places for a hundred
and fifty knights, and Leodegrance sent a hundred, bidding
Arthur fill up the remaining fifty places; but Merlin left two
places void, the 'Siege Perilous' and another. In Morte Darthur,
14, 2. following here the Roman de Lancelot, we are told that
Merlin made the Round Table in token of the roundness of the
world. For all the world, Christian and heathen, repair unto
the Round Table, and when they are chosen to be of the fellow-
ship of the Round Table, they think themselves more blessed and
more in worship than if they had gotten half the world.' And
he made one place at it where no one might sit but he only who
should pass all other knights, and this was the Siege Perilous, in
the which Galahad at length sat. At Whitsuntide was held each
year the high feast of the Table Round, at which the number of
knights was made up to the full tale. Other legends, however,
say that the Round Table was made after the model of that used
by Christ for the Last Supper and had thirteen seats, of which
one, corresponding to that occupied by Christ himself, was left
vacant.
In Guinevere, 456 ff., Arthur says:-
'But I was first of all the kings who drew
The knighthood-errant of this realm and all
The realms together under me, their Head,
In that fair Order of my Table Round,
A glorious company, the flower of men,
To serve as model for the mighty world,
And be the fair beginning of a time.
I made them lay their hands in mine and swear
To reverence the King, as if he were
Their conscience, and their conscience as their King,
To break the heathen and uphold the Christ,
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs,
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it,
To honour his own word as if his God's,
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity,
To love one maiden only, cleave to her,
And worship her by years of noble deeds,
Until they won her.
NOTES.
57
The idea of an order of chivalry such as is described in the Arthur
romances belongs to the 13th and 14th centuries, at which period
such institutions flourished. The English order of the Garter,
and probably some other orders of chivalry, were founded in imi-
tation of the Round Table. A table called King Arthur's Round
Table is preserved at Winchester, and is mentioned by Caxton
in the preface to the Morte Darthur as one of the relics which
make Arthur's historical existence seem more probable.
4. Had married Enid. The poet begins his story after the
marriage of Geraint, but then, in 1. 146, breaks off to tell the
tale of that marriage, and the original narrative is not resumed
till the beginning of the next idyll, Geraint and Enid, which at
first formed simply a second part of the idyll of Enid. We
have the same arrangement of the story in Merlin and Vivien,
Lancelot and Elaine, The Last Tournament, and Guinevere; here
however the narrative of previous events is carried to a much
greater length than in any of the other examples, and by some
critics is thought to interfere with the artistic unity of the two
idylls, which, though divided, are after all one rather than
two.
6. And as the light of Heaven etc. This is one of those similes
so often found in Tennyson, which suggests to us an application
of the comparison in minute details rather than in one salient
point. Here it is not only the varying of the light of heaven
to which our attention is called, but the particular forms of its
variation, which are compared with the different aspects of
Enid's beauty, arrayed now in crimson like the sunrise, now in
purple like the evening, and now sparkling with gems which are
like the trembling light of the stars. In this characteristic
Tennyson's similes somewhat resemble those of Virgil. For
the substance of the comparison here made, cp. Pelleas and
Ettarre, 51:-
'Damsels in divers colours like the cloud
Of sunset and sunrise.'
11. but, only.' This use of but' is apparently derived from
its use with a negative, 'She did it but to please him,' meaning
'She did it for no purpose except to please him.' Properly but
means 'except,' from Anglo-Saxon butan, ‘outside.'
13. fronted him, 'met him,' so in Guinevere, 62 :—
'Henceforward rarely could she front in hall
Or elsewhere Modred's narrow foxy face':
and often in older English.
Arthur's queen is Guinevere, or in the Welsh
In the French romances followed by
14. the Queen.
stories, Gwenhwyvar.
58
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
Malory she is said to have been the daughter of King Leode-
grance of Cameliard, see The Coming of Arthur. She was loved
by Sir Lancelot du Lac, the warrior whom the King loved and
honoured most, and her infidelity was the principal cause of the
dissolution of the Order of the Round Table, leading, as it did,
to war between Lancelot and the King. Alas, me sore re-
penteth, said the king, that ever Sir Launcelot should be against
Now I am sure the noble fellowship of the Round Table is
broken for ever, for with him will many a noble knight hold'
(Morte Darthur, 20, 7). Tennyson makes the same event lead to
the dissolution of the Round Table, but by the action of moral
rather than material causes. Arthur, reproaching Guinevere as
the cause of his life's failure, says :-
me.
'And all this throve before I wedded thee,
Believing, "lo mine helpmate, one to feel
My purpose and rejoicing in my joy.”
Then came thy shameful sin with Lancelot ;
Then came the sin of Tristram and Isolt;
Then others, following these my mightiest knights,
And drawing foul ensample from fair names,
Sinn'd also, till the loathsome opposite
Of all my heart had destined did obtain,
And all thro' thee.'-Guinevere, 480 ff.
16. Loved her. In Guinevere Enid is called the best of all the
queen's court, as Vivien the worst.
17. Array'd, see note on 1. 516.
deck'd, properly 'covered,' a word borrowed from Old
Dutch (cp. German decken), but with meaning perhaps modified
by confusion with 'decorate.'
22. close. So in Balin and Balan, 132:-
'I never can be close with her, as he
That brought her hither.'
23. common, i.e. mutual,' that which each felt for the other.
This friendship between Enid and the Queen was in fact what
Geraint had most desired for his bride, see 1. 791 of this
idyll.
26. there lived no proof, 'no proof subsisted.' The word
'live' is used of persistent rumour or tradition, and nieans much
the same as 'prevail,' as in Princess, 1, 5:—
'There liv'd an ancient legend in our house,'
and Gardener's Daughter, 49:
'not less among us lived
Her fame from lip to lip.'
Cp. Gareth and Lynette, 1391 :-
'So large mirth lived.'
I
NOTES.
59
27. breaking into storm.
The metaphor is of a gradually
rising wind, first rustling among the leaves, and then breaking
into loud violence.
28. Geraint believed it. The defect of Geraint's character, as
represented in these idylls, is suspiciousness. He was ready to
believe the rumours about the Queen, before they were proved;
he was quick to suspect Enid of loving some other rather than
himself; and her burning check and falling eyelid, when she
perceives that he distrusts her, are to him evidence of her dis-
loyalty (Geraint and Enid, 430).
31. taint (from French teint, Lat. tingere) means properly
'stain,' or 'colouring,' like 'tint."
33. He made this pretext. In the original story Geraint is re-
called by a message from his father Erbin, who says that he is
growing old, and the neighbouring chiefs are becoming insolent,
and requests Arthur to allow Geraint to return to protect his
boundaries, a better occupation for his youth than tournaments,
'which are productive of no profit, although he obtains glory in
them' (Mabinogion, p. 158). The connection of Geraint's de-
parture with the rumours about Guinevere is due to the poet,
and constitutes the chief link between these two idylls and the
main subject of the Idylls of the King.
35. bandit, 'outlawed,' from Ital. bandire, 'to proclaim'or
'proscribe'; but this word was originally borrowed by Low
Latin from German, and so is cognate with the English 'ban'
meaning 'proclamation,' cp. 'banus' of marriage (Skeat, Etym.
Dict.).
caitiff, from Old French caitif (modern chétif) meaning
'captive,' and thence wretch,' 'villain.' Cp. Ital. cattivo,
which has both senses.
39. common sewer, because it was the place where all the
worst and most worthless persons of the realm congregated, as
refuse flows into a common sewer.
41. marches, 'boundaries,' from 'mark,' meaning 'line,' Anglo-
Saxon mearc.
42. Mused for a little. Arthur is unsuspicious always, even on
the brink of the catastrophe, see Last Tournament, 38, 103.
The subject of his musing is stated by himself in Geraint and
Enid, 887-893 :-
'Prince, when of late ye pray'd me for my leave
To move to your own land, and there defend
Your marches, I was pricked with some reproof,
As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be,
By having look'd too much thro' alien eyes,
60
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
And wrought too long with delegated hands,
Not used mine own.
For the etymology of 'mused,' see note on 1. 295.
C
43. Allowing it, the Prince etc. The subject is changed from
'the King' to the Prince and Enid,' and 'allowing it,' which of
course belongs to 'the King,' is left hanging without regular con-
struction: cp. Gareth and Lynette, 670 £. :—
as those
Dull-coated things, that making slide apart
Their dusk wing-cases, all beneath there burns
A jewell'd harness.'
45. Of Severn. Arthur's court was being held at Caerleon
upon Usk, see 11. 146 and 826 ff., and to pass thence into Devon-
shire it would be necessary to cross the estuary of the Severn.
past. Tennyson (after Spenser) adopts this form of spell-
ing for the past tense of several words, as past,' 'vext,' 'slipt,'
drest,' 'fixt,' for 'passed,' 'vexed,' 'slipped,' 'dressed,' 'fixed.'
He does not however use it quite so freely as Spenser, who says
'kist,' 'chaft,' 'flockt,' 'chaunst' etc.
46. thinking, that. The conjunction 'that' is redundant, be-
cause the very words of his thought are quoted. We find the
same use often in Greek.
48. observances, 'regards.'
49. worship is properly worthship,' and so it is used in older
English where 'to win worship' is
to win worship' is 'to gain glory.' Hence it
means the respect and honour which is paid to worth.
50. Forgetful of his promise etc. The repetition in these lines
is quite in the manner of Tennyson: see Introduction.
Here we have the repetition employed to emphasize one par-
ticular word, and for this we may compare in Enoch Arden,
590:-
'The blaze upon the waters to the east;
The blaze upon his island overhead ;
The blaze upon the waters to the west.'
In the Princess, 2, 155:-
everywhere
Two heads in council, two beside the hearth,
Two in the tangled business of the world,
Two in the liberal offices of life,
Two plummets dropt for one to sound the abyss
Of science and the secrets of the mind.’
And in the Holy Grail, 474 :-
NOTES.
61
'Fainter by day, but always in the night
Blood-red, and sliding down the blacken'd marsh
Blood-red, and on the naked mountain top
Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere below
Blood-red.'
52. the falcon, i.e., the sport of hawking.
53. the tilt, the exercise of tilting as practised in tournaments.
54. princedom: formed after the model of 'kingdom,' so also
in The Coming of Arthur:—
'Drew all their petty princedoms into one.'
56. by and by, i.e., 'after a time,' a familiar expression.
58. scoff is probably in origin the same as 'shove,' which in
Anglo-Saxon is scofian (Germ. schieben); hence metaphorically of
a rub or push given by mocking words (Skeat, Etym. Dict.):
'jeer' is originally the same as 'shear,' from the Dutch expression
den gek scheeren, to shear the fool,' hence' to jeer at one (Skeat,
Etym. Dict.).
60. in mere uxoriousness: uxoriousness,' from the Latin
uxorius, is 'excessive fondness for a wife': 'mere' is properly
unmixed,' 'pure,' used in Latin originally of wine. The meta-
phor seems to be of the hard metal of his valour molten down in
the fire of his uxoriousness; but it may be that 'molten down in
mere uxoriousness' has here the same meaning as 'melted into
mere effeminacy' in 1. 107. Notice that 'molten' and 'melted'
are both used by Tennyson as the past participle of the verb 'to
melt'; so we have 'clomb' as well as climbed' for the past
tense of 'climb,' and 'wrought' as well as 'worked' for the past
participle of 'work.'
<
62. attired, from old French atirier, derived from tire, 'row,'
'file' : hence it means properly to arrange' (Skeat, Etym.
Dict.).
In
64. they sadden'd her the more. The women thought to please
by flattering her vanity, but they saddened her the more because
they all the more brought home to her that she was the cause.
the Welsh story, Erbin, the father of Geraint, speaks to Enid
and asks if she has induced him to act thus, and she replies,
'Not I, by my confession to Heaven, there is nothing more hate-
ful to me than this' (Mabinogion, p. 162).
69. on a summer morn. This and the next are the idylls of
early summer (cp. note on 1. 145), as Gareth and Lynette of
spring; Lancelot and Elaine and The Holy Grail have indica-
tions of later summer; The Last Tournament and Guinevere
are of autumn; and The Passing of Arthur belongs to winter,
62
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
to the last days of the dying year. Thus the whole poem
seems to pass through the seasons of a year, which are in har-
mony with the course of its development, although the narrative
of the Idylls really embraces a period of many years. With this
passage, 11. 69-133, compare the corresponding passages of the
original story quoted in the Introduction.
70. They sleeping each by either, a very usual form of paren-
thesis in Tennyson; cp. 1. 147, 'he sitting high in hall.' For the
combination each by either' cp. Coming of Arthur, 1. 130, 'For
each had warded either in the fight.'
71. casement is properly the 'frame' of the window, from old
French encaisser, derived from caisse, 'box.' The word is origi-
nally 'encasement.'
blindless; a 'blind' is that which prevents light from en-
tering freely through a window, and hence the name.
74. And bared the knotted column etc. Observe in these lines
the succession of metaphor, description, and simile: the first in the
comparison 'implied but not fully stated' of his throat to a column
of rude strength, the second in l. 75, 'The massive square of his
heroic breast,' and the third in the comparison of the muscles of
the arm to the smooth sloping of water over a stone.
77. As slopes etc. This simile, which admirably gives the idea
of undulating smoothness, strength, and flexibility, resembles that
in Theocr Id. 22, 48 :-
ἐν δὲ μύες στερεοῖσι βραχίοσιν ἄκρον ὑπ ὦμον
ἔστασαν, ηύτε πέτροι ὁλοίτροχοι οὕς τε κυλίνδων
χειμάρρους ποταμὸς μεγάλαις περιέξεσε δίναις.
('And the muscles in his strong arms, beneath his shoulder,
stood like rounded stones which the torrent stream has rolled and
boiled around in the mighty eddies.') But Tennyson has given
more life to the simile by comparing the muscles not to the worn
and rounded stones but to the water running vehemently over
the stones.
82. past: see note on 1. 45.
85. to her own heart, cp. 1. 618 and note.
86. O noble breast etc. Cp. Virgil, Aen. 4, 11 :—
'quam forti pectore et armis,'
where Conington is perhaps right in taking armis to mean
'shoulders,' in support of which interpretation he quotes this
line as a parallel; but the combination here of breast and arms
is derived from the Welsh story.
all-puissant, all-powerful': 'puissant' is made three
syllables, as 'puissance' in The Princess, 1, 36 :-
NOTES.
63
'And of her brethren, youths of puissance,'
and also sometimes in Shakspeare, as K. John, 3, 1, 339 :-
'Cousin, go draw our puissance together.'
Cp. 2 Henry IV. 1, 3, 77.
89. I am the cause, She rejects the idea that she is the cause
in the sense in which popular rumour attributes the blame to
her, that is, that she has indulged her vanity at the expense of
his reputation; and yet she cannot acquit herself of responsi-
bility, because she has not the courage to tell him what she
thinks and what men say. She wanted not courage afterwards
to disobey her husband for his good, and to warn him of enemies
lying in wait for him, but this matter of warning him against
the danger to his reputation, which she saw and he did not,
came perilously near to a doubt of his honour, or at least of his
sensibility to that which touched his honour, and she could not
bring herself to seem to have any such doubts.
91. And yet, that is, notwithstanding that I dare not speak.
92. his name, i.e. his honour,' as in l. 53.
93. Far liefer had I gird etc., i.e. 'I should hold it far dearer
to gird' etc. So in Gareth and Lynette, 'Far liefer had I fight a
score of times': 'lief,' from the same stem as 'love,' means
'beloved.' In the Passing of Arthur, Arthur says to Bedivere,-
'quickly go again,
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing
I bade thee.'
The expression 'I had as lief' do so and so (or 'I had liefer') is
common in the provincial English of the Midland counties.
Tennyson uses the expression also with a past participle, e.g.
Voyage of Maeldune,-
'Each of them liefer had died,'
in which case 'liefer' would be an adverb, Each of them would
have died rather' (Germ. lieber), and so in 1. 629 of this idyll.
harness, armour,' Old French 'harnois,' Breton harnez
meaning 'implements of iron,' derived from Bret. houarn, iron :
cp. Welsh haiarn (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
97. Far better would it be if I were' etc.
102. Am I so bold. That is, 'Can it be that I have the courage
to ride with my lord to battle, and see him wounded or slain
before my eyes, and yet have not the courage now to tell him
what I think and what men say?' This relation of clauses, in
which the former is really concessive, though I am so bold'
etc., is more usual in Greek than in English.
64
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
106. slur means properly 'soil,' hence of finding fault.
108. no true wife. In the original romances she speaks of the
popular reports without using any expression which lends itself
to misunderstanding, like this: but Tennyson has felt the need
of making the misunderstanding more intelligible, and so puts
into her mouth words which seem to Geraint a downright con-
fession of guilt: cp. Geraint and Enid, 741.
112. by great mischance: the expression 'par mescheance'
occurs in Erec et Enide in this passage, but perhaps it is only a
coincidence.
116. For all my pains, i.e., 'in spite of all my pains,' properly
' in return for all my pains.' Observe the pathetic repetition.
poor man, 'poor man that I am'; cp. Holy Grail, 559 :-
'Rejoice, small man, in this small world of mine.
122. in the sweet face of her etc., i.e. 'in the presence of her,'
from the thought that he is not most loved by her, as she by
him.
124. Observe how the word 'hurl'd' in this connection gives
the idea of vehement action and also of massive weight in the
limbs.
125. his drowsy squire: the squire would sleep just outside the
door of the knight's chamber, or at times in the chamber itself.
126. palfrey, French palefroi, Low Latin paraverēdus, para-
fredus, 'extra post-horse' for a carriage: hence a horse for riding,
especially for a lady, i.e. not a war-horse. The German Pferd
is from parafredus (Brachet, Etym. French Dict.).
128. my spurs are yet to win. The expression 'to win one's
spurs' refers of course originally to gaining the honour of
knighthood, of which the spurs were a symbol, hence to gain
renown': are yet to win means 'have still to be won,' i.e.
'have not yet been won'; 'to win' being a gerundial expression
such as we have in the sentences 'there is yet much to do,' 'this
plant is not good to eat' and so on.
129. some, i.e. Enid's possible lovers.
134. Then she bethought her etc. This way of introducing the
story of her marriage is a skilful invention of the poet, who has
preferred to begin at the point where the connection is brought
out most clearly between this idyll and the main subject of the
Idylls of the King, and then to work backwards as well as for-
wards. Besides that, there is something touching in her rever-
ence for the faded silk and her recurrence to it now.
faded silk: that is, the dress which she was wearing when
first seen, cp. 1. 366: the mantle (and veil) were added afterwards
for the journey, 1. 824.
NOTES.
65
136. cedarn, 'made of cedar,' as 'wooden,' 'golden,' 'silvern,'
'oaken' etc.
138. sprigs of summer, such as lavender for example, to pre-
serve and perfume them.
145. Whitsuntide. This was the greatest feast of the year at
Arthur's Court, being the occasion on which Arthur was pro-
claimed king, see Morte Darthur, 1, 5. On this feast the full
number of the knights was annually made up (Morte Darthur,
7, 1). The time indicated here is nearly a year before the events
just related.
We have been told that it was summer when they
took place, and early in the summer (the new sun
• beat upon
Geraint as he slept). It must be therefore in the latter end of
May, just before the coming round of Whitsuntide again, that
the story, as told by the poet, has its opening, and we are now
taken back to the events of nearly a year before that time, 'last
year's Whitsuntide,' 1. 840. In the Welsh story several years'
interval elapse between Geraint's marriage and his departure
from Arthur's court.
146. Caerleon upon Usk. This ancient town is in Monmouth-
shire on the river Usk about two miles above Newport. It was
called by the Romans Isca Silurum, but came also to be known
as Castra Legionis, because it was the station of the Second
Legion, and hence comes the Welsh name Caerleon. The name
Caerleon upon Usk distinguishes it from Chester which was Caer-
leon on Dee: Leicester also is called from Legionis Castra. By
later Latin writers Caerleon is translated into Urbs Legionum,
and its bishop is called 'bishop of Legions.' In romance it is
one of the principal residences of Arthur, and the Roman amphi-
theatre there is called Arthur's Round Table (Mabinogion, p.
33). In Arthurian romance it has gilded parapets and a very
high tower (see 1. 827 of this idyll). In Lancelot and Elaine,
297, there is mention of the battle fought near Caerleon against
the Saxons :-
'When the strong neighings of the wild white Horse
Set every gilded parapet shuddering';
and in Pelleas and Ettarre, 157, when a tournament is held,
'Down in the flat field by the shore of Usk,'
we are told that,
'the gilded parapets were crowned
With faces, and the great tower filled with eyes
Up to the summit.'
148. a forester of Dean. The Forest of Dean is between the
lower course of the Wye and that of the Severn. The population
are mostly miners, and from very ancient times it has produced
iron, coal, and timber for shipbuilding. The Spanish Armada
E
66
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
had commission to cut down the oaks of the Forest of Dean, that
the English naval power might be crippled for want of building
material. In this story the forest is conceived as extending
nearly as far as the Usk. The same name is found in various
forms applied to other forest districts, e.g., Ardennes in France,
Arden in Warwickshire, Dean in the New Forest, etc.
152, 153. to let blow His horns. This is a form of expression
common in the English of Malory, e.g. 'I will let cry a tourna-
ment,' 'Then the king let purvey for a great feast,' etc. It
means 'to cause his horns to be blown': cp. the use of the
German lassen.
155. easily, 'readily,' making no difficulty about granting it.
158. dreaming of her love etc. This touch is not in the original
story; its introduction is meant to remind us again of the moral
taint in the Court of Arthur which had already begun to produce
its effect, though as yet none perceived it.
160. a single maiden with her. These words belong in sense
to what follows. The reason given in the Welsh story for her
want of larger attendance is that they found but two horses left
in the stables.
162. knoll, a word of Celtic origin, Welsh cnol, hillock': cp.
Germ. knollen, 'clod,' 'lump.'
163. but heard instead etc. The Welsh story of Geraint has it
thus: And as they rode thus, they heard a loud and rushing
sound; and they looked behind them, and beheld a knight upon
a hunter foal of mighty size; and the rider was a fair-haired
youth, bare-legged and of princely mien, and a golden-hilted
sword was at his side, and a robe and a surcoat of satin were
upon him, and two low shoes of leather upon his feet; and around
him was a scarf of blue purple, at each corner of which was a
golden apple. And his horse stepped stately, and swift, and
proud, and he overtook Gwenhwyvar and saluted her.'
The personages of the Mabinogion are generally very finely
dressed, often in yellow or red satin, and apples of gold are not
unusual appendages to their scarves and other trappings. For
example, when Kilhwch rode to Arthur's Court his horse had
about him a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold
was at each corner.'-Mabinogion, p. 219.
C
<
166. brand is the Old English poetical word for 'sword,'
properly (as in 'fire-brand') a burning piece of wood,' from the
same stem as 'burn.' The word was applied to a sword-blade
because of its brightness: cp. Icelandic brandr, and Old French
brant, which is of German origin.
The
golden-hilted. The hilt of a sword is not, properly
speaking, the handle, but that in which the blade is set.
word is not connected in derivation with 'hold.'
NOTES.
67
167. flashing, like the dragon-fly to which he is compared: cp.
The Two Voices, 15, A living flash of light he flew.'
C
172. glancing like a dragon-fly. The sheen of the silks and
the glitter of the gold are like the metallic lustre of the dragon-
fly's coat of mail, as it glances over the water.
183. break covert, a term used of hounds coming out of the
cover of the wood in pursuit of the game which they have roused.
185. Cavall is several times mentioned in Welsh stories as
Arthur's best hound, and Carn Cavall is the name of a mountain
in Wales, where according to tradition there existed a stone with
a footprint of this dog impressed in it. He is mentioned in the
tale of Kilhwch and Olwen (Mabinogion, p. 251).
186. of deepest mouth: so in Shakespeare, 'matched in mouth
like bells' (Mids. Night's Dream, 4, 1, 120).
187. It need hardly be said that in romance a dwarf is a very
usual attendant on a lady or a knight. In the tale of Beaumains
(Morte Darthur, Book 7) Gareth is accompanied by a dwarf, and
in Ly beaus Disconus the lady who comes to ask for assistance of
Arthur has one, who is called a 'dwerk. (This, or rather dwerg,
is the original form of the word, cp. the German zwerg.) Sir Tor
had a dwarf, who had transferred his service to him from certain
other knights who proved themselves recreant (Morte Darthur,
3, 9): Queen Morgan le Fay sent a dwarf with a great mouth
and a flat nose to convey a message to Sir Accolon (Morte
Darthur, 4, 8), and so on throughout.
188. lagg'd is from the Welsh lag, sluggish' (Skeat, Etym.
Dict.).
189. vizor, from French visiere, the cover for the face' in the
helmet (Old French vis, 'face').
191. not mindful of etc., 'not remembering to have seen his
face in the King's hall.'
195. doubling etc. having double as much pride as his
master,' as it is the way of servants to imitate their masters'
faults and to exaggerate them.
196. Made answer sharply etc. In the Welsh story the inci-
dents are told as follows: 'And the maiden enquired of the
dwarf who the knight was. I will not tell thee, he answered.
Since thou art so churlish as not to tell me, said she, I will ask
him myself. Thou shalt not ask him, by my faith, said he.
Wherefore? said she. Because thou art not of honour sufficient
to befit thee to speak to my lord.
horse's head towards the knight,
her with the whip that was in his
eyes, until the blood flowed forth.
Then the maiden turned her
upon which the dwarf struck
hand across the face and the
And the maiden, through the
68
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
hurt she received from the blow, returned to Gwenhwyvar, com-
plaining of the pain. Very rudely has the dwarf treated thee,
said Geraint. I will go myself to know who the knight is. Go,
said Gwenhwyvar. And Geraint went up to the dwarf. Who is
yonder knight? said Geraint. I will not tell thee, said the dwarf.
Then will I ask him himself, said he. Thou wilt not, by my faith,
said the dwarf, thou art not honourable enough to speak with my
lord. Said Geraint, I have spoken with men of equal rank with
him. And he turned his horse's head towards the knight; but
the dwarf overtook him, and struck him as he had done the
maiden, so that the blood coloured the scarf that Geraint wore.
Then Geraint put his hand upon the hilt of his sword, but he took
counsel with himself, and considered that it would be no venge-
ance for him to slay the dwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by
the armed knight, so he returned to where Gwenhwyvar was
(Mabinogion, p. 145).
'
It is worth while to notice how Tennyson has here dealt with
his original, which he follows closely but with several suggestive
variations. The line 'Thou art not worthy ev'n to speak of
him' suggests a higher degree of pride that the corresponding
answer in the original, and makes his position quite unreason-
able, but at the same time the outrage to the maiden is reduced
to a mere threatening of violence, struck at her with his whip,'
and she returns 'indignant,' whereas in the original she is struck
with the whip across the face, so that blood flows, and returns
complaining of the pain. This treatment of a lady seemed to
the poet unnecessarily shocking, and he has modified it accord-
ingly. Finally, the motive assigned for Geraint's self-restraint,
though a perfectly natural one and not dishonourable (for no
knight thought it dishonourable to decline a combat when un-
armed against one armed), cannot be said to be heroic, and
Tennyson has with fine instinct changed it into one which sug.
gests 'pure nobility of temperament.
>
208. The Prince's blood spirted etc. The rather abrupt stop
at the end of the preceding line, and the uneven rhythm of this,
seem to suggest a moment's pause after the blow, and then a
sudden spirt of blood.
209. instinctive, moving as by instinct,' not with deliberate
purpose.
210. abolish. The Latin abolere, from which this word comes
(through the French abolir), means simply 'to destroy.'
211. But he. The emphasis on 'he' seems to suggest the con-
trast between the instinctive mechanism by which his hand
moved, and the man himself, who was governed by his manful-
ness and nobility of temperament.
213. Wroth to be wroth. He is angry with himself for feeling
even that first impulse to strike so wretched a creature. Wroth
NOTES.
69
to be wroth' is a Tennysonian turn of phrase like 'the hate of
hate, the scorn of scorn.' The word 'wroth' is originally from
'writhe,' meaning 'turn,' 'twist'; hence metaphorically of one
who is moved by passion.
217. this vermin: the word is here used collectively, as we
see from the expression 'their earths.' Vermin' means pro-
perly creeping thing,' from the stem of the Latin vermis,
worm': hence used of small noxious creatures, foxes, rats,
weasels, parasitic insects etc. its collective meaning is the
more usual.
:
earth is the word used for the hole made by a fox or
a badger, and we speak of running it 'to earth' when we pur-
sue it till it takes refuge in its hole.
220. for pledge, i.e. lent on the security of something left.
being found, i.e. arms being found.'
221. break his pride: this expression is afterwards recalled by
repetition in various forms, 11. 416, 424, 578, 589.
223. So that I be not: a common form of condition in Tenny-
son, e.g. in Gareth and Lynette, 131 :-
'So that ye yield me …….
and in this idyll, 1. 304 :-
your full leave to go,'
'So that ye do not serve me sparrow-hawks
For supper.'
229. were she the daughter of a king fetc. That is, 'Even
though she were a king's daughter I would clothe her more
richly than she was wont to go, yea, though she were a beggar,
I would not disdain to receive and honour her.' The thought is
twofold: first of the magnificence of the imagined bridal dress,
such as would befit even the daughter of a king, and then of the
possibility that Geraint might be deterred from wedding her
whom first he loved, from fear that a maiden of low station
might not be acceptable to the stately queen.
231. bridals: the word 'bridal,' (which is properly 'brid-ale,'
i.e. wedding-feast) is used both in singular and plural for a
wedding ceremony: so in older English we occasionally have
funerals' for funeral, as Shaksp. Titus Andron. 1, 1, 381 :—
'wise Laertes' son
Did graciously plead for his funerals':
Shakspeare has commonly 'nuptial,' but also nuptials, and we
use 'spousal' and 'spousals' indifferently. The use of the plural
is natural enough, as in the Latin nuptiae, sponsalia, funebria,
meaning rites of marriage, etc., and we find it in other modern
languages, as French and Italian.
70
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
232. now, answered by 'now' in the next line, at one time...
at another.'
233. at bay is the English equivalent of the French aux abois,
'at the baying' of the dogs, that is, when the stag has ceased to
run, and turns against the pursuing hounds who bay round him.
Sometimes we have at a bay' (for 'abay'), e.g. Shaksp. Taming
of the Shrew, 5, 2, 56 :—
'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.'
235. vile occasion, because the quarrel arose from a con-
temptible creature.
236. glade is properly an open space in a wood,' connected
originally with words meaning 'bright,' e.g. German glatt,
English 'glad' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
238. the world of wood, that is, the vast extent of forest
through which their road lay.
239. And they went along a fair and even and lofty ridge of
ground, until they came to a town.'-Mabinogion, p. 146. The
town in the Welsh story is said to be Cardiff. Observe, as an
example of Tennyson's manner of repeating the same form of
phrase, how the sequence of simple events is marked here by the
succession of three lines beginning with 'And': cp. Geraint and
Enid, 583 ff. and 600 ff.
240. and sank, i.e. disappeared from view by descending on
the opposite side.
244. white from etc., i.e. 'newly built,' the stone not having
yet had its whiteness toned down by the weather.
246. ravine comes through French from the Latin rapina, ‘a
carrying away,' hence it means in French a 'violent torrent,'
and so the deep bed dug out by such a torrent (Brachet, Etym.
French Dict.).
249. Brawling. The position of this word, followed by a
pause, has the effect of attracting attention to it.
the rooks: the article seems to imply that they are re-
garded as familiar appendages to human habitations.
253. his earth, carrying on the metaphor of 1. 217.
255. hostel, the Old French hostel, Low Latin hospitale, Modern
French hôtel.
256. hammer laid to hoof, i.e. shoeing of horses. With this
passage cp. Scott, Marmion, 5, 6.
hot hiss, because he is hotly at work: so 'bustling whistle'
in the next line.
260. sparrow-hawk, in the French, espervier: the sparrow-
hawk was used in falconry, but was reckoned among the ignoble
NOTES.
71
birds of prey, like the goshawk, having shorter wings and less
power of flight than the more esteemed kinds.
261. churl originally means 'man,' cp. 'carl.
262. dusty sloping beam. The rays of the sun were sloping
because it was near evening, and the air above the man was
dusty from the dust about the sack, like the air about the door
of the mill in the Miller's Daughter, 104,—'Made misty with the
floating meal.' Or, perhaps dusty' is only a general epithet for
the 'sloping beam' of the sun, because it shows motes and dust
in the air more clearly than the vertical rays.
264. hubbub, or 'whoobub' (so in Shaksp. Winter's Tale, 4, 4,
628, 'had not the old man come in with a whoobub against his
daughter and the king's son'), is from 'hoop-hoop,' a reduplica-
tion of 'hoop' (i.e. 'whoop'). (Skeat, Etym. Dict.)
273. flash'd into sudden spleen. The word 'flash'd' implies
startling suddenness: it is one of those picturesque words which
the poet is fond of using in various ways; cp. 1. 167. The meta-
phorical application of it to sudden emotion occurs several times;
e.g. in Lancelot and Elaine, 355 and 944, Suddenly flash'd on
her a wild desire,' and 'love's first flash in youth'; in In
Memoriam, 122, 15, 'As in the former flash of joy'; and in
Maud, 1, 4, 16, 'the fire of a foolish pride flash'd over her
beautiful face.'
spleen means 'anger,' because the spleen was supposed by
ancient physicians to be the seat of ill-temper, as the heart or the
liver of courage. Hence 'splenetic' means 'ill-humoured,' and
we have spleenful' in l. 293 in the same sense.
274. 'Pip' is a disease of birds, especially poultry and pheas-
ants, described as a kind of influenza.
275. Tits, wrens etc., stand for all the smallest and weakest
kinds of birds.
276. bourg, 'town,' the same word as 'borough,' meaning
properly 'fort,' from the stem of Germ. bergen, 'to cover'; cp.
the note on 1. 281.
279. who pipe of nothing etc. The sparrow-hawk makes a
prey of small birds in the hedges, hedge sparrows and the like,
(whence its name), and such birds would naturally be interested
in its doings. The word 'pipe' is used of the note of a bird, as
in In Mem. 91, 2,—‘And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.'
281. harbourage, 'lodging,' from 'harbour.' The word 'har-
bour' means originally army-shelter'; cp. Old High German
hereberga, a camp' (heri or heer and bergen). It comes into
English from Swedish or Norwegian.
282. The repetition of the word 'arms' and the hurried
72
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
rhythm of the line, ending with an emphatic monosyllable fol-
lowing a pause, express the impetuosity of his demand.
287. tourney, from Old French tornei, derived from torner or
tornoier, because of the turning and returning to the encounter.
288. scantly, 'hardly.'
290. good truth, like 'good lack,' 'good earnest,' 'good faith,'
in all which expressions 'good' is little more than an emphasizing
addition. Cp. Gareth and Lynette, 105.
save, 'except.
295. musing, French muser, from Old French muse, mouth'
or muzzle,' Low Latin musus. 'The image is that of a dog
scenting the air when in doubt as to the scent' (Skeat, Etym.
Dict.). (It must be observed however that this etymology is not
universally accepted.) Hence the word in English comes to
mean 'meditate.
296. These explanatory or descriptive parentheses, thrown in
without interrupting the structure of the main sentence, are
characteristic of Tennyson: so in Enoch Arden, 64:-
271:-
'Philip stay'd
(His father lying sick and needing him)
An hour behind.'
'Philip's true heart, which hunger'd for her peace
(Since Enoch left he had not look'd upon her)
Smote him.'
In Gareth and Lynette, 725 :—
'To whom Sir Gareth drew
(And there were none but few goodlier than he)
Shining in arms.'
In Lancelot and Elaine, 88-
' and a heart
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen
(However much he yearn'd to make complete
The tale of diamonds for his destined boon)
Urged him to speak' etc.
And very often elsewhere.
fray'd means properly worn by rubbing, from Latin
fricare, through Old French frayer, 'to grate' (Skeat, Etym.
Dict.). In the Welsh story, he saw sitting upon the bridge a
hoary-headed man, upon whom were tattered garments.' Tenny-
son has shrunk from introducing Earl Yniol in rags, and his
clothes are such as have once been magnificent, but now are
worn,
302. ever open-door'd. He says afterwards that his means had
been somewhat broken into 'Thro' open doors and hospitality,'
1. 456.
NOTES.
73
304. So that ye do not, i.e. 'on condition that ye do not': cp.
note on 1. 223.
306. passion, eagerness.'
309. hedgerow thief, because he preys on small birds in the
hedges.
310. save, 'unless': cp. Coming of Arthur, 84:-
'for saving I be join'd
To her that is the fairest under heaven,
I seem as nothing' etc.
And Gareth and Lynette, 107:
'That save he won the first by force, he needs
Must wed the other.'
In all these cases it is used, as here, with verb in subjunctive.
313. His charger trampling etc. For the construction of the
sentence cp. 1. 70. Observe the picturesqueness of this whole
description.
315. ruinous, in ruins'; cp. Holy Grail, 429, Far thro' a
ruinous city' so we have in Shakspeare, 'a ruinous monastery,'
and (of a house)' growing ruinous; but in Modern English the
word means rather causing ruin.'
316. plumed with fern. So in Enone, 205 :—
'My tall dark pines, that plumed the craggy ledge
High over the blue gorge.'
And in The Princess, 4, 5 :-
'By every coppice-feather'd chasm and cleft.'
In each case the metaphor is applied to a fringe of light foliage,
but in the case of ferns it is especially appropriate.
319. wilding, a variation for 'wild,' properly a diminutive.
324. suck'd the joining etc. Ivy clings to the crevices of a
building with the root-fibres or suckers which it puts out from its
shoots. Because of these its branches are spoken of as 'hairy-
fibred arms' in the line above. In what follows the bare stems.
intertwined are compared to a knot of snakes, while above the
foliage forms a grove of verdure.
326 ff. Compare with this passage the lines in The Holy
Grail, 829 ff. :—
'But always in the quiet house I heard,
Clear as a lark, high o'er me as a lark,
A sweet voice singing in the topmost tower
To the eastward.'
329. and as the sweet voice etc. Observe the difference of the
two successive similes and the peculiar aptness of each. At first
Geraint is moved to wonder and conjecture, as one who lands in a
74
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
strange island and hears the song of a bird, delicate and sweet,
but to him unfamiliar, wonders and conjectures what kind of a
bird it may be. Then this state of mind passes rapidly into
another of resolved conclusion, 'Here by God's grace is the one
voice for me,' as a man in his own land, hearing the liquid note
beloved of men' from a budding coppice in April, might stop his
talk or his work to say, 'There is the nightingale'; the voice
being one which he knows well and has been before expecting:
he only knew not precisely when or where he should hear it first.
330. The word 'lander' is coined no doubt for the purpose
here, and retains its verbal meaning, 'the lander in a lonely isle'
being the same as 'him who lands etc.
>
336. the liquid note: 'liquid,' because clear and flowing.
'The liquid note' is set for the bird to which it belongs, because
the note is the most marked characteristic of the homely-feathered
bird.
339. coppice, from Low Latin copecia, 'brushwood,' Old French,
copeiz, connected with coper (couper), 'to cut.'
gemm'd with green and red. The metaphor expanded
means with fresh green leaves and red unopened buds like
emeralds and rubies': so in Maud, 1, 4, 1 :-
'A million emeralds break from the ruby-budded lime.'
Observe that the Latin gemma, which originally means 'bud'
(especially of the vine, as still in Italian) and metaphorically
jewel,' becomes in English 'gem,' which means 'jewel,' and is
here used metaphorically of buds.
Compare with this song the
'Sweet is true love.' The
345. the song that Enid sang.
song which Elaine made and sang,
two songs are cast in the same external form, but they afford a
complete contrast, which well illustrates the difference between
Enid and Elaine, the one full of cheerful calm, the other of
passion.
347. Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel.
15, 95:-
Compare Dante, Inf.
'Però giri Fortuna la sua ruota,
Come le piace.'
The idea of the turning of a wheel as a similitude to express the
changes from low to high and from high again to low of human
fortunes is a very ancient and natural one. It is found, for
example, fully developed in Greek art and literature.
351. we go not up or down: not that we are exempt from the
external influence of Fortune, but in our true selves we are inde-
pendent of any changes which Fortune may bring. We preserve
the same temper through all,
'For man is man and master of his fate.'
NOTES.
75
It is the Stoic philosophy expressed in a poetical form. The
wise man only is free, because he alone uses his own will, alone
rich and happy, because goods of the soul are the most valuable,
and for the rest, true wealth consists in being independent of
wants. The things which men ordinarily value are indifferent,
neither to be desired nor avoided :-
'Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.'
352. hoard, i.e. store of worldly goods: the original meaning
of the word is said to be 'a thing housed,' the Gothic form being
huzd (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
356. the staring crowd: because the mass of people gaze in
fixed admiration at the changes which fortune brings about,
regarding them as the one important thing in human life.
362. dusky-rafter'd many-cobweb'd. Observe Tennyson's use
of the double Homeric epithets: we have 'many-tower'd Camelot,'
many-fountain'd Ida, 'heavy-fruited tree,' and a multitude
more: 'dusky-rafter'd,' because the smoke of the fire would no
doubt be left to find its way out as it could through the roof:
cp. the Homeric µéλa@pov alðaλoév, Il. 2, 414.
363. in dim brocade. In the original she is 'an old decrepit
woman, sitting on a cushion, with old, tattered garments of satin
upon her.'
em-
brocade is from the Spanish brocado, meaning
broidered,' which must come from a verb brocar (not used),
meaning 'to stitch': cp. French brocher, from Low Latin brocca,
'point,' whence comes the English "broach,' "brooch' etc.
(Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
Enid is the
364. vermeil-white, white tinged with red.'
blossom and her dress the faded flower-sheath, and she is like.
the blossom lightly breaking the sheath, when her grace and
beauty become apparent to Geraint. The flower-sheath is that
bract-leaf (or spathe) which encloses some kinds of flowers, and
fades as it opens to disclose the blossom. The expression 'ver-
meil-white,' which has nothing corresponding to it in the Welsh
story, may have been suggested by the lines of Chrestien de
Troyes in this place :
'Sor la blanchor par grant mervoille
D'une color fresche et vermoille,
Que Nature li ot donee,
Estoit sa face anluminee.'
Sur blancheur
lui eut donnée
Erec et Enide, 429-432.
368. God's rood, the cross of Christ': 'rood' was originally
the same as 'rod,' and meant 'pole,' hence used for 'gallows' or
cross.' So in Piers Plowman, that blisful barne that boughte
us on the Rode,' and, as here, in an oath,' And yet, quod resoun,
by the Rode I shall no reuthe have'; and so in Shakspeare, e.g.
76
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
Romeo and Juliet, 1, 3, 36,—'nay, by the rood, She could have
run': cp. Merlin and Vivien,—' Yea, by God's rood, I trusted you
too much. The partition in English churches between the
chancel and the nave is called the 'rood-screen,' because formerly
a crucifix was placed over it.
374. A quotation from Enid's song.
375. fain, 'desirous,' originally 'glad': cp. Princess, 6, 182:—
' and yet how fain was I
To dream thy cause embraced in mine.'
381. utter, 'perfect,' so in Gareth and Lynette, 541 :—
'my knights are sworn to vows
Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness,
And loving, utter faithfulness in love,
And uttermost obedience to the king.
In this case anything less than perfect courtesy would have
insisted on relieving Enid of the task, and so wounded the feel-
ings of the host. In the original story it is not hinted that
Geraint felt the impulse to prevent her: he accepted her services
both to himself and his horse as perfectly natural.
385. came again etc. The Welsh story says, 'And behold,
the maiden came back, and a youth with her, bearing on his
back a costrel full of good purchased mead, and a quarter of a
young bullock. And in the hands of the maiden was a quantity
of white bread, and she had some manchet bread in her
veil.'
386. costrel means 'bottle' of earthenware or wood; in this
case it contains the wine, as in the original the mead.
388. to make them cheer, 'to make good cheer for them': cp.
note on Geraint and Enid, 283.
>
389. manchet bread. This was made of fine wheat flour
passed through a boulting-cloth, and was served at the master's
table in the hall; 'chete bread for the side tables was made of
unsifted wheat flour, while for the servant's board a brown
bread was made of a mixture of wheat and rye meal. See note
on Chaucer, Prologue, 147, in Morris' edition.
393. Elaine also was 'sweet and serviceable,' but not so much
in dutiful service to her father's guest, as in wilful tendance of
the knight who had worn her favour.
396. the trencher means the wooden plate on which things are
cut, from Old French trencher. Enid has been handing it about
to the company.
398. made summer, i.e. 'produced warmth.' For the paren-
thesis, see note on 1. 296.
NOTES.
77
399. rove. This verb is said to be formed from the substantive
'rover,' meaning properly 'robber,' and more especially 'pirate,'
from the stem of 'reave.' A rover' came to mean a person
who voyaged hither and thither, and so 'rove' meant 'wander'
(Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
in following, that is, 'in following Enid.'
408. Observe the repetition here from 1. 244, as below, in 11.
413, 416, 419 etc., we have echoes of phrases used before.
409. I am Geraint etc. The parenthesis is thrown in, lest his
hearer should think the oath presumptuous.
410. for this morning continues the sentence before the paren-
thesis, giving the reason for the oath.
412. under-shapen, a kind of combination of 'under-sized' and
'misshapen.'
414. and then I swore. He omits the outrage done to himself,
as unwilling to set any motive of personal vengeance beside the
resolution to avenge the insult to the queen. There is no such
delicacy in the Welsh story, where on the contrary the insult to
himself is represented as the chief incentive to revenge.
415. caitiff, see note on 1. 35.
hold, i.e. 'stronghold.'
416. have it of him, i.e. his name, force him to tell it.
419. rustic murmur, suggesting the sound of a babbling country
brook, which they take to be that of the great wave of the uni-
versal ocean that rolls along the shores of the world,
'The voice of days of old and days to be.'
430. somewhat, i.e. something great': so in St. Simeon
Stylites,
'They think that I am somewhat. What am I?'
state no doubt here means 'stature,' as in Shaksp. Love's
Labour's Lost, 4, 3, 185:-
'When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow,' etc.
The expression which we have here occurs also in Lancelot and
Elaine, 181 :-
'for by thy state
And presence I might guess thee chief of those,
After the King, who eat in Arthur's halls.'
431. presence, appearance,' used generally of a noble mien or
bearing, cp. In Mem. 103, 27 :—
'The maidens gather'd strength and grace
And presence, lordlier than before.'
78
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
So in Shaksp. Comedy of Errors, 3, 2, 166 :-
'But her fair sister,
Possessed with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself.'
,
432. Camelot is the place where Arthur chiefly holds his court.
Caxton in his preface to Malory's Morte Darthur speaks of it as
if it were in Wales, probably confusing it with Caerleon, but
Malory himself identifies it with Winchester. There was, how-
ever, a Camelot or Camalat in Somersetshire, represented now by
the villages of East Camel and West Camel on the river Camel,
which have the remains of an ancient town and fortress, and are
said to be full of Arthurian traditions. It has been suggested
that during the century which followed the capture of Sarum by
the Saxons, Camelot became the capital of the South British
Kingdoms, and that its strategical position was connected in
fact as well as in romance with the Isle of Avallon, the Monastery
of Glastonbury and the Nunnery of Almesbury' (Strachey, In-
troduction to his Morte Darthur, p. xvii.). The geography, how-
ever, of the Arthurian romances, which were developed for the
most part abroad, is naturally very vague, and is not much eluci-
dated by the endeavours of English translators, like Malory, to
fix with precision the places mentioned. In Tennyson's Idylls
Camelot is a mystic city, the locality of which the poet does not
attempt to fix, though in Lancelot and Elaine he seems to imply
that it lay in the same direction from London as Astolat, and
tha. Astolat was near the Thames below London. The chief
descriptions of it are those which we have in Gareth and Lynette,
and those which Percivale gives to the monk Ambrosius in the
Holy Grail. It was on a hill, the 'Royal mount' or sacred
mount' of Camelot, 'which rose between the forest and the field,'
having on one side the woods over which the king gazed when
pacing on the level pavement in front of the hall, the same which
in the Last Tournament were yellowing with autumn, and on the
other the meadows in which the tourneys were held,-
'the lists
By Camelot in the meadow.'-Lancelot and Elaine.
The city was approached over the long backs of the bushless
downs,' and it is called repeatedly the 'dim, rich city'; it is
'a city of shadowy palaces
And stately, rich in emblem and the work
Of ancient kings who did their days in stone.'
Gareth and Lynette, 296 ff.
The centre of it was the great hall which Merlin had built for
Arthur,
NOTES.
79
For all the sacred mount of Camelot
And all the dim rich city, roof by roof,
Tower after tower, spire beyond spire,
By grove, and garden-lawn, and rushing brook,
Climbs to the mighty hall that Merlin built.'
Holy Grail, 227-231.
In describing the departure of the knights upon the quest,
Percivale says—
'O brother, had you known our Camelot,
Built by old kings, age after age, so old
The King himself had fears that it would fall,
So strange, and rich, and dim: for where the roofs
Totter'd toward each other in the sky,
Met foreheads all along the street of those
Who watched us pass; and lower, and where the long
Rich galleries, lady-laden, weighed the necks
Of dragons clinging to the crazy walls,
Thicker than drops from thunder, showers of flowers
Fell as we past; and men and boys astride
On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan,
At all the corners, named us each by name' etc.
Holy Grail, 339-351.
434 ff. Enid was attracted by Geraint's deeds and adventures
told by her father or himself, as Desdemona by those of
Othello:
'Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days etc.
This to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She 'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse.'-Shaksp. Othello, 1, 3, 128 ff.
437. grateful, 'pleasant,' the original sense of the Latin gratus :
so in Shaksp. Taming of the Shrew, 2, 1, 76 :—' Neighbour, this
is a gift very grateful.'
noise, 'rumour': so in Gareth and Lynette, 429 :-
'With noise of ravage wrought by man or beast.
441. brawls are 'noisy quarrels,' from a Welsh word meaning
'loud boast.'
C
442. be he dead, whether he be dead.'
80
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
443. the wild land is that which Geraint had upon his marches,
as we see afterwards.
446. he. This was meant for the subject of a verb, but the
construction changes and it is left hanging. We have instead
'his pride awoke.
>
447. When I that knew etc. Tennyson has very judiciously
altered the story of the enmity between Earl Yniol and his
nephew, in such a way as to transfer the reader's sympathies
entirely to the side of the former. In the Welsh story the old
Earl is the wrong-doer, and has reaped the just reward of his
villany. And when they had finished eating, Geraint talked
with the hoary-headed man, and he asked him in the first place,
to whom belonged the palace that he was in. Truly, said he, it
was I that built it, and to me also belonged the city and the
castle which thou sawest, Alas! said Geraint, how is it that
thou hast lost them now? I lost a great Earldom as well as these,
said he, and this is how I lost them. I had a nephew, the son of
my brother, and I took his possessions to myself; and when he
came to his strength, he demanded of me his property, but I
withheld it from him. So he made war upon me, and wrested
from me all that I possessed.'-Mabinogion, p. 147. Tennyson
has converted this justly punished fraud into a calumny
spread by the nephew for his own ends. It should be observed
that in the original story this nephew, who has deprived Earl
Yniol of his possessions, is a different person altogether from the
Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk, who did the insult to the Queen.
This last was a stranger, who canie every year to the tourna
ment held by the young earl, Yniol's nephew. In the French
romance the father of Enid had not been dispossessed by force,
but had become poor by fortune of sea and of war.
450. For the metaphor, cp. Livy, 24, 23:-' apud infimae plebis
homines crimina serebant in senatum optimatesque,' (' among the
lowest of the common people they sowed charges against the
senate and the nobles.')
454. the more easily, because his servants thought the promises
of the nephew better than the service of their half-ruined master.
458. sack'd, 'plundered,' from the use of sacks in carrying
away plunder.
459. ousted, 'ejected,' from Old French oster (Mod. ôter), 'to
remove' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
463. The reason why he did not slay him is given in Geraint
and Enid, 836 ff.
472. I seem to suffer nothing. He is of the same philosophic
temper as that expressed in Enid's song; see note on I. 351. His
wife is hardly so philosophical, see 11. 705-731.
NOTES..
81
482. Two forks, i.e. forked or cleft sticks.
484. a golden sparrow-hawk. Falcons apparently were usual
prizes for tournaments; for example, in the metrical romance of
Ly beaus Disconus they tilt for a white jerfalcon. In the Welsh
story of Geraint, nothing is said to imply that the sparrow-hawk
is not alive, and in the French it evidently is so; see Erec et
Enide, 566 ff. :—
sor une perche d'arjant
Uns espreviers mout biaus assis,
Ou de cinc mues ou de sis,
Li miaudre qu'an porra savoir.'
sur
très beau
Le meilleur qu'on
491. toppling over, like 'I can topple over a hundred such,' in
Gareth and Lynette, 636.
*
495. toward here pronounced as two syllables with accent on
the first, so as to lay emphasis on 'to.' The adverb 'toward,'
as when we say 'there is a play toward,' is regularly so
pronounced.
496. To lay lance in rest is to lower the spear for the encounter,
letting the heel of it rest in a kind of socket behind the saddle on
the right hand side, so that the weight may be balanced.
Here
it means simply 'to tilt.'
498. Tho' having seen etc. For this form of parenthesis see
note on 1. 296. The characteristic point is that it occurs in the
full flow of the sentence, which is continued afterwards as if
there had been no interruption.
499. anything so fair: cp. Geraint and Enid, 614
'I never yet beheld a thing so pale.'
502, 503. So aid me Heaven... As I will etc. 'If I make her not
my wife, may heaven not aid me in my extremity,' is practically
the meaning. 'So' meaning 'under this condition,' without the
answering clause introduced by 'as,' is common enough in expres-
sions like So help me God,' 'So may I prosper.' We have the
full expression in Shaksp. Rich. III. 2, 1, 16:-'So prosper I, as
I swear perfect love; 2 Henry VI. 1, 1, 205:—So God help
Warwick, as he loves the land," and often elsewhere.
504. howsoever patient, that is, indifferent as he was to the
vicissitudes of fortune.
505. seeing better days, i.e. in prospect.
507. that old dame: Enid's mother, mentioned in 1. 363 as
an ancient dame in dim brocade.'
508. to whom full tenderly etc. The Welsh story says nothing
of any appeal to the mother or any thought of the daughter's
inclinations in the matter: Gladly will I permit thee' is the
answer, and so the matter is concluded without more ado.
F
82
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
Tennyson's additions are, as usual, improvements, and there seems
to be no ground for the criticisms of Mr. Collins, who finds here
a regard for conventional propriety which is out of place in
poetry. There is nothing unpoetical in the modern (but not
exclusively English) idea that marriage should be accompanied
by love on both sides, and that therefore a maiden's heart should
be proved before she is quite given away to a wooer.
513. prove, i.e. try how it is disposed.
516. disarray'd. The verb 'array' comes from Old French
arraier, derived from a Scandinavian word reda or rede meaning
'order,' and allied to the English 'ready,' which formerly was
used for 'dressed,' as 'unready' for 'undressed'; 'array' there-
fore means properly set in order,' then 'dress': cp. 'raiment.'
(Note that the word 'dress' originally meant 'set straight'
from Latin dirigere.)
as to her rest, i.e. 'as if to go to rest.'
518. shining shoulder: compare the Homeric expression,
Φαίδιμος ώμος.
519. kept her off, held her at arm's length, (that she might
see her face).
521, 522. light and shade Coursed one another. The image is of
the rapid alternations of light and shade upon an open field or
down when clouds are passing over the sun. The form of the
simile recalls that in Gareth and Lynette, 526 :—
'Shame never made girl redder than Gareth joy.'
529. rapt, 'carried away.' Milton, Paradise Lost, 3, 522, has
it in the literal sense :-
Rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds,'
but it is more often metaphorically applied to emotions, as here.
The word is of English origin, from 'rap,' 'to snatch,' connected
with 'rape,' which means originally haste'; but it has been
supposed to come from the Latin rapere, so that the spelling
'rapt,' as if from raptus (instead of 'rapped'), is universal
(Skeat, Etym. Dict.). Tennyson would no doubt adopt this form
of spelling in any case, as he does with 'past,' 'vext,' 'slipt'
etc.
531. ever fail'd to draw etc. : cp. Virgil, Aeneid, 4, 529:-
neque unquam
Solvitur in somnos, oculisve aut pectore noctem
Accipit :
('Nor ever does she sink into sleep, or take the night into her
eyes or breast :') a passage which must have been in the poet's
mind when he wrote this; but the thought of the stillness and
darkness being drawn into the veins and so carrying sleep
through the body is finer than the corresponding idea in Virgil.
NOTES.
83
contémplate' more
533. Contemplating. Tennyson says
usually than cóntemplate,' e.g. In Memoriam, 34, 1:-
'When I contemplate all alone,'
but in the Palace of Art we have,-
' holding no form of creed
But contemplating all.'
535. To quicken, i.e. to grow living,' the light in the east
being to the watcher first a death-like pallor, and then a living
glow, at the touch of the coming sun. Here the verb 'quicken
means come to life,' but in Geraint and Enid, 549:
wailing will not quicken him,' it means 'bring to life.'
Your
raised Her mother, i.e. roused her and caused her to get up.
537. jousts, from Old French jouster, derived from Low Latin
iuxtare, to approach,' hence to encounter' in tilting (Skeat,
Etym. Dict.).
539. twain. Originally the difference between 'two' and
'twain' is one of gender, 'twain' (or rather twegen) being the
masculine form. This distinction, however, was lost in very
early times.
543. The chair of Idris is the well-known Welsh mountain
called Cader Idris, consisting of an immense ridge of precipices
about ten miles long. Idris is a legendary Welsh giant. The
reference here is in keeping with the locality of the story.
545. errant knights are knights who wander about seeking for
adventures or for opportunities of gaining glory. The knight
errant' belongs to romance rather than to reality. For errant '
in its literal sense of 'wandering,' see Geraint and Enid, 245.
547. lists, 'ground enclosed for a tournament,' from Old
French lisse (Mod. lice) meaning 'list' or 'tiltyard,' Low Latin
liciae, 'barriers,' probably allied to Latin licium, 'thread,
'girdle'. (Skeat, Etym. Dict.). In English the word is usually
plural, in French it is singular.
549. Notice the repetition from 483 f.
559. a great fire at Yule. The name Yule for Christmas is
especially associated with the Yule log and the great wood fire
upon the hearth which was made with it in former times. The
derivation of the word 'Yule' is disputed, but it was originally
a name applied to the Pagan sun-festival of the winter solstice,
which like sun-festivals at other times of the year, e.g. mid-
summer, was celebrated with great fires. Hence the appropriate-
ness of the name when this particular way of celebrating Christ-
mas is referred to: cp. Holy Grail, 612:-
'poor men, when yule is cold,
Must be content to sit by little fires.'
84
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
560. burnt, i.e. 'consumed.'
C
563. dishorsed, a word which might mean either unhorsed or
simply dismounted. In the Welsh story the Knight of the
Sparrow-Hawk is unhorsed by Geraint, and Geraint dismounts
and draws. Then the knight also arose, and drew his sword
against Geraint. And they fought on foot with their swords,
until their arms struck sparks of fire like stars from one
another; and thus they continued fighting, until the blood and
sweat obscured the light from their eyes.'-Mabinogion, p. 150.
565. from distant walls etc. Perhaps it is meant that the
applause of the crowd was echoed back from the walls, and
sounded like the clapping of phantom hands.
567. breathed, i.e. 'rested': cp. Shaksp. 1 Henry IV. 1, 3,
102:-
'Three times they breathed and three times did they drink,
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood.'
568. The dew of their great labour, a fine expression for the
perspiration which their efforts produced.
570. either's force was match'd, 'the strength of each was
equalled by that of the other': 'either' for 'each' is common in
Tennyson, as in Gareth and Lynette, 216 :-
'And drops of water fell from either hand':
so 'each by either' in 1. 70.
571. The original is, 'Oh, chieftain, remember the treatment
which thou hadst from the dwarf; and wilt thou not seek
vengeance for the insult to thyself, and for the insult to Gwen-
hwyvar the wife of Arthur!'
572. 'And Geraint was roused by what he said to him, and he
called to him all his strength, and lifted up his sword, and
struck the knight upon the crown of his head, so that he broke
all his head-armour, and cut through all the flesh and the skin,
even to the skull, until he wounded the bone.'-Mabinogion,
p. 150.
573. bit the bone, cut into the bone,' a forcible expression.
577. Compare the account of his feelings given by himself in
Geraint and Enid, 850 ff.
584. abide, 'abide by,' that is 'submit to.'
590. Enid sees my fall. Why this was so bitter to him we
learn from Geraint and Enid, 827-852.
593. Cp. Geraint and Enid, 896 ff.
594. drew himself Bright etc. The metaphor seems to be from
metal drawn bright by intense heat.
NOTES.
85
596. In the great battle, i.e. the last great battle in the West
against the traitor Modred and those who held with him, de-
scribed in the Passing of Arthur.
597 ff. Observe the delicate picturesqueness of this passage: the
low light of the rising sun, the birds moving in the ivy outside
the casement, with their shadows dancing upon the pillow of the
bed, and Enid lying asleep in the dim-yellow light and among
the moving shadows.
the third day, inclusive reckoning, the day but one after,
see 1. 690.
604. For the parenthesis, cp. 1. 296.
607 f. The correspondence of form in two clauses like these is
characteristic of the poet; see Introduction and note on 1. 50.
Other examples in this idyll have been 11. 98 f., 226 f., 289 f.,
483 f.
613. to the dress, i. e. 'compared to the dress.' The dress of
course is the same, but to her eyes it now looks more faded than
before Geraint's coming, because of the contrast between her
present poor surroundings and the bright new life which is
opening before her, between the faded silk of her own dress
and the splendid attire of her lover. The dress seemed faded
before, but only as a leaf is faded in the first weeks of autumn,
whereas now it is to her eyes as the dead and falling leaf of mid
November.
618. to her own sweet heart: compare the Homeric phrase,
κραδίην ἠνίπαπε μύθῳ, Odyss. 20, 18.
623. beholden, 'bound (holden) to him in gratitude.'
624. It were but little grace, it would be ungracious,' that is,
it would show but little gratitude for the benefits received.
629. liefer, 'more willingly,' cp. note on 1. 93.
630. fell in longing, for 'fell into longing.'
631. branch'd and flower'd etc., adorned with branches and
flowers worked in gold: cp. Shaksp. Twelfth Night, 2, 5, 53, ‘in
my branched velvet gown.
641. sold and sold, i.e. sold one after the other.'
648. golden carp, are the fish better known as 'gold-fish.'
649. blurr'd : 'to blur' means properly to dim,' and so
Tennyson uses it in Guinevere, 4 :—
one low light betwixt them burn'd
Blurr'd by the creeping mist.'
So 'blear-eyed' means 'dim-sighted,' from the same stem. Here
'blurr'd' means 'with its brightness dimmed' (by parasitic over-
growth).
86
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
650. burnish'd, 'polished,' Old French burnir, bornir, properly
'to make brown' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
659. trellis-work, i.e. lattice-work,' French treillis, treille,
Latin trichila, an arbour' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
660. plots are properly 'small pieces of ground,' here flower-
beds.
661. a garnet or a turkis. Crimson and blue are the colours:
the beds are like jewels set in the green turf. So in Geraint and
Enid, 198, a green meadow in the brown wild is compared to a
gem in a setting.
The garnet or granat is called so from its supposed resem-
blance to the seeds of the pomegranate (malum granatum): the
turkis or turquoise has its name from the country, Turkey,
whence the stones were supposed to come. They are found in
Persia. 'Turkis' is the Miltonic and much better spelling of
the word.
663. tissue is woven material of any kind, but especially gold
and silver brocade, and commonly in the phrase 'cloth of gold of
tissue.' French tisser, 'to weave,' Latin texere.
665. Glanced, i. e. 'shone': they appeared, passing through or
looking in, like flashes of brightness.
672. mixen, 'dunghill,' a provincial word commonly used in
the midland counties of England.
674. With this waking compare that in Geraint and Enid,
381 ff., where the crowing of the cock seemed in her dream to be
the summons of a dreadful trumpet.
682. keeps the wear and polish of the wave, that is, 'keeps
after it has been removed from the sea the glancing colours
which the wear of the waves has brought out.' Shells of which
the rough outside has been worn off by the waves, might be said
to have received their colours from them.
683. I trow, 'I believe,' connected with 'true.'
686. divide, i.e. 'distinguish.'
707. howsoever patient, though patient, yet unwillingly.'
The phrase 'however patient' is repeated from 1. 504, and there
'patient' means indifferent to changes of fortune, whether for
the better or for the worse, and not simply enduring ill fortune
easily.
708. he took me, i. e. at marriage.
C
710. seneschal, steward of the household.' The original
sense is 'old servant,' from a supposed German sins, 'old,' and
scalh, 'servant': borrowed by French from German, like many
other titles of social rank. For the formation, cp. maréchal,
from Old German marah horse,' and scalh, 'servant.'
NOTES.
87
712. noble maintenance, i.e. the keeping up of noble state.
714. swerved etc., turned aside, as it were, from the sunshine
and entered the shadow, became dark instead of bright.
724. ragged-robin, a common English wild flower of the
campion kind; its petals have a rather ragged appearance, and
hence its popular name.
730. like those of old etc. The reference is to the Book of
Esther, 2, 2-17, where it is related how after Vashti was deposed
from being queen, King Ahasuerus ordered search to be made in
all the provinces for fair young virgins, that he might choose a
queen, and among them was brought to the palace the Jewess
Esther, who 'obtained favour in the sight of all who looked upon
her,' and pleased the king more than all the rest. She, like
Enid in romance, was a stock example of the elevation of a
maiden of low degree to be the bride of a king or prince.
734. Then, as the white etc. The simile has the picturesque
beauty and curious aptness which are characteristic of the poet.
The fair Enid, rising from her maiden couch and robing herself
in the gold-embroidered gown, is compared to the white morning
star rising from behind a snowy ridge and slipping into a cloud
made golden by the coming sun.
C
742. that maiden in the tale. This tale is also in the Mabin-
ogion. It is that of Math the son of Mathonwy,' and in it
Math and Gwydion seek to form a wife for the youth Llew by
charms and illusion. So they took the blossoms of the oak, and
the blossoms of the broom, and the blossoms of the meadow
sweet, and produced from them a maiden, the fairest and most
graceful that man ever saw. And they baptised her, and gave
her the name of Blodeuwedd' (Mabinogion, p. 426).
743. glamour, 'magic': cp. Gareth and Lynette, 201 :—
Who drave the heathen hence by sorcery
And Merlin's glamour.'
744, 745. the bride of Cassivelaun, Flur. The legend referred
to is evidently that which is given in the notes to the Mabinogion,
p. 392, and to which reference is made to the Triads. Tennyson,
however, has made some variation in the story; for the Triads
relate that Flur, the daughter of Mygnach Gorr and betrothed
to Caswallawn (Cassivelaun) had been carried away to Gaul
by Mwrchan, a Gallic chief in alliance with Julius Caesar, to
whom he intended to present her. Caswallawn led an army
of sixty-one thousand men into Gaul against Caesar, and gaining
a complete victory, recovered his bride.
746. we beat him back. The British legend of Caesar's in-
vasions of Britain was that he was compelled to an ignominious
flight see Geoffrey of Monmouth, Hist. Brit. 4, 3.
88
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
761. Albeit I give etc. The temper of the man moves him to
conceal for the present the reason which he has, that he may
make trial of Enid's love and submission to his desires. This
tendency to suspect and prove is the defect in his otherwise fine
character: see note on 1. 28.
Albeit is from al in the sense of 'even,' as in 'although,'
for which word it is often used in older English not only with
'be' but with other verbs, as Chaucer, Prologue, 734:-ʻ Al
speke he nevere so rudelyche and large.' Here the full meaning
is, although it be that I give' etc.
764. flaws are 'blasts of wind.' Hamlet says of the dust of
Caesar :-
"O that that earth that kept the world in awe
Should patch a wall, to expel the winter's flaw.'
In Shakspeare the word is also used metaphorically of sudden
gusts of emotion, as in Macbeth, 3, 4 :-
'these flaws and starts
(Impostors to true fear) would well become
A woman's story at a winter's fire.'
'
>
laying lusty corn. This use of 'lay' in the sense of 'beat
down,' used of corn crops, is common enough: lusty' means
first 'pleasant,' then 'vigorous,' as listless meant originally
'without pleasure' and then 'without vigour': cp. Geraint and
Enid, 251, 258.
765. she knew not why. The feeling is partly no doubt due to
the fact that she is by this act exchanging her mother's rule for
that of another, and partly to the half-felt sense that more con-
fidence might have been shown in her by her lover, the same
sense which 'Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall' when
Geraint looked keenly and suspiciously at her afterwards: cp.
Geraint and Enid, 430.
768. Her mother silent too etc. the construction as in l. 147,
'he sitting high in hall.'
:
769. costly-broider'd Tennyson uses costly as an adverb: cp.
Audley Court, 22, "a pasty costly-made," and Geraint and Enid,
231.
774. As careful robins, i.e. as robins watch the digger, to see if
he turns up something which may serve for their food. This
comparison is used again in the same words, Geraint and Enid,
431, and there also of a searching and suspicious look. It is one
of those touches which show how close an observer the poet is of
bird (as of other) life.
790. service done so graciously, i.e. the clothing of the bride
for her bridal by the Queen, according to her promise. It should
be noted as an ironical touch that the first exhibition of jealous
NOTES.
89
temper on the part of Geraint is justified on the ground of his
desire that Enid and the Queen should be friends, how can Enid
find A nobler friend?' while afterwards the principal ground of
his jealousy is this very friendship which he had promoted.
791. fain I would, 'gladly should I desire that the two' etc.,
a rather redundant expression. Ordinarily when we say 'fain
would I' it is with another verb, as 'fain would I speak,' in
which case 'would' is simply a conditional auxiliary. Here
however it stands alone as the conditional of the verb 'will,'
meaning 'desire.'
797. I doubted etc. Here comes in the jealousy which is char-
acteristic of him.
799. weal,
welfare.'
800. false, because the duskiness of her present surroundings
and his contrasting brightness are only external circumstances,
of little real consequence.
801, 802. overbore Her fancy etc. He is afraid that she may have
been overpowered for the moment by his outward brilliancy, as
contrasted with the duskiness of the surroundings among which
she dwelt, and so be induced to accept his offer less from love for
him than from desire to move in the brilliant society from which
he came: 'dwelling in this dusky hall' would refer probably to
Enid herself rather than to her fancy, the fancy of her who
dwelt.'
810. Yet therefore tenfold dearer etc. He means that the
newness of it would make it attractive, and still more because
not new to her altogether. By this very fact it would have
greater attraction now, from the force of former usage intermitted.
812. a rock, i.e. no more moved by casual circumstances such
as might in another person cause jealousy, than a rock by the
ebb and flow of the tide.
813. Now, therefore, I do rest. He thought afterwards of this
'false doom,' see Geraint and Enid, 247.
818. gaudy-day, day of festival,' properly 'joyous day,' from
Lat. gaudium. Some University and College festivals at Oxford
are called 'gaudy days' or 'gaudies.'
826. Guinevere expected him, both because of his promise to
return on the third day, 1. 222, and because of the report brought
by Edyrn of him and his bride.
827. The giant tower, see note on 1. 146: the great tower at
Caerleon is mentioned also in Pelleas and Ettarre, 159:-
'the gilded parapets were crowned
With faces, and the great tower fill'd with eyes
Up to the summit.'
90
THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.
In the time of Giraldus Cambrensis a large tower existed among
the ruins of Caerleon.
828. the goodly hills of Somerset are the Mendip Hills, seen
across the Bristol Channel.
829. And white sails etc. On this line Mr. Swinburne writes
as follows:-'On the first bright day I ever spent on the eastern
coast of England I saw the truth of this touch, and recognized
once more with admiring delight the subtle and sure fidelity of
that happy and studious hand. There on the dull yellow, foam-
less floor of dense, discoloured sea, so thick with clotted sand
that the water looked massive and solid as the shore, the white
sails flashed whiter against it and along it as they fled, and I
knew once more the truth of what I had never doubted that the
eye and the hand of Tennyson may always be trusted at once and
alike to see and to express the truth.'
832. By the flat meadow, mentioned in Pelleas and Ettarre as
the field where the jousts were held :
'Down in the flat field by the shore of Usk.'
838. Dubric is Dubritius archbishop of Legions (i.e. Caerleon),
and primate of Britain. Dubric is mentioned in the Coming of
Arthur, 11. 452 and 470, on the occasion of the marriage of Arthur
and Guinevere, see also Geraint and Enid, 1. 864. In all these
passages he is called 'Dubric the high saint.' Geoffrey of Mon-
mouth says of him :-' This prelate who was primate of Britain,
and legate of the apostolical see, was so eminent for his piety,
that he could cure any sick person by prayer' (Hist. Brit. 9, 12).
840. the last year's Whitsuntide, i.e. about a year before the
events related at the beginning of the idyll, 11. 1-144, of which
the narrative is now continued.
848, 849. she found And took it. The dress is associated in her
mind not only with her husband's first coming and his love for
her, but also with his former demand of obedience without reason
given, which she sees now repeated.
NOTES.
91
GERAINT AND ENID.
1. O purblind race etc. This reflection is rather in the manner
of Spenser, who often begins his canto with a stanza in which
the moral of the tale is pointed in the form of exclamation: e.g.-
Ay me, how many perils doe enfold
The righteous man, to make him daily fall,
Were not that heavenly grace doth him uphold,' etc.
Faery Queene, 1, 8, 1;
or this:-
'O! why doe wretched men so much desire
To draw their daies unto the utmost date,
And doe not rather wish them soon expire;
Knowing the misery of their estate,' etc., 4, 3, 1.
purblind originally means 'wholly blind' ('pure-blind'),
but it has come to mean partly blind,' much as 'parboil' meaning
originally boil thoroughly (Lat. perbullire) came to mean
'partly boil' by confusion with 'part.' Skeat Etym. Dict. (where
however the change of sense is said to be probably due to confu-
sion with the verb 'pore').
3. Do forge, i.e. are forging': 'forge' is from French forge,
derived from the Latin fabrica, 'a workshop.'
6. Groping, 'feeling our way': the word properly means 'to
seize,' from the stem of 'gripe,' hence of taking hold of things to
guide one in the darkness.
how many, i.e. how many among us forge trouble for our-
selves,' referring to the foregoing words. For the pathetic
repetition, cp. Marriage of Geraint, 116.
pass, for pass away' from this world; used in the Idylls
especially of the mysterious end of Arthur, whose destiny it
was to pass into another state of life, whence he would again
come:
'Nay-God my Christ-I pass but shall not die.'
Passing of Arthur, 28.
Here the word suggests the thought of death as a transition from
this world to another.
7. where we see as we are seen: a reference to St. Paul's First
Epistle to the Corinthians, 13, 12:-'Now we see in a glass, darkly;
but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I
know even as also I am known," i.e. by God.
92
GERAINT AND ENID.
9. when they both had got to horse: this and the succeeding
clauses belong to what follows, the verb 'said ' in l. 13: 'get to
horse' is the same as 'take horse, i.e.
11, 12. that ... Which, i.e. such
mount.'
as,' a Latinism: cp. 1. 736.
brooding, properly of birds sitting upon eggs to hatch
them, then metaphorically of things which hang over or round,
and especially of clouds hanging heavily overhead, as in the
Palace of Art, 75: The ragged rims of thunder brooding
low.'
12, 13. break... in thunder: his anger is metaphorically compared
to a thunder-storm ready to break, and his speech to the bursting
of the tempest with lightning which may strike whatever is
beneath. Therefore, lest the storm should break in thunder upon
so dear a head, he will avoid occasion for speech, which if uttered
cannot but be passionate. In the romances he bids Enid ride
before, simply because he does not desire her company after what
she has said of him, and he lays the injunction of silence upon
her to test her obedience.
perforce, of necessity.'
16. on thy duty etc. a form of appeal to her sense of duty,
like 'on thy honour,' 'on thy faith as a Christian' etc., meaning
as thou regardest thy duty, honour, faith' etc.
C
18. aghast, properly terrified,' from Old English agasten: so
in Chaucer, Knightes Tale, 1566 :-
'Of which Arcita somwhat hym agaste,'
i.e. 'was terrified,' and Spenser, Faery Queene, 1, 9, 21 :—
or other griesly thing, that him aghast.'
Cp. Shaks. King Lear, 2, 1, 57, 'gasted by the noise I made.'
Even as early as Spenser an h had crept in, as in 'ghost,'
'ghastly,' and the word means here, as in Modern English gener-
ally, rather struck with horror' than 'terrified.'
20. Effeminate as I am, i.e. according to the opinion of others.
He refers to Enid's words in Marriage of Geraint, 106 :—
saying all his force
Is melted into mere effeminacy,'
which was one of the fragments that he overheard.
21. gilded arms, i. e. the help of wealth.
25. Was all the marble threshold flashing etc. The poet leaves
us, as well as Enid, with a vivid picture of the scene impressed
on our minds, though in itself it is of little importance.
27. Chafing, 'rubbing,' because the purse had struck it. The
word 'chafe' properly means 'warm,' Old French chaufer
NOTES.
93
(modern chauffer), Low Latin caleficare; hence warm by rub-
bing' and then simply 'rub': cp. 1. 581, and Passing of Arthur,
377:-
>
'And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands."
More common is the metaphorical use of the word in the sense
of 'to vex' or 'to be vexed,' as e.g. 'it chafes me that I could
not bend One will,' Dream of Fair Women, 137, or 'Began to
chafe as at a personal wrong,' Enoch Arden, 471.
30. the marches, i.e. the boundaries of Geraint's territory,
those marches which he had craved leave from Arthur to go and
defend (Marriage of Geraint, 40), and beyond which lay the terri-
tory which he then spoke of as the refuge of bandits and assassins.
Jealousy and anger make him do now what regard for his
promise and for his honour should have made him do before.
:
bandit-haunted holds for bandit '
•
see Marriage of
Geraint, 35: 'haunt' is from French hanter, 'to frequent'
'holds' for 'strongholds.'
C
31. of the hern, frequented by the hern' (or heron), a bird
which seeks its food in lonely pools and swamps.
33. Round, i.e. 'quick.' We speak of a 'round sum' of money,
meaning that which is reckoned in hundreds or thousands with-
out regard to the odd units (which suggest the idea of breaking
up into parts), a sum which may be regarded as a smooth
unbroken lump. Then similarly to 'speak roundly' is to speak
in general terms and without regard to details, and so in an
absolute and unqualified manner. When in Shaksp. Henry V. 4,
1, 216, the king says, Your reproof is something too round,'
he means that the saying is too absolute, there is not enough
qualification in it. From this use the idea of vigour attaches to
the word, and a 'round pace' is one in which there is no slack-
ness.
34. had, 'would have.'
35. This line is a parenthesis thrown in, as often in Tennyson,
so as to suspend suddenly the flow of the sentence, which is
resumed afterwards as if no interruption had occurred: cp.
Gareth and Lynette, 240 :—
but these my men
(Your city moved so weirdly in the mist)
Doubt if the King be King at all,' etc.
And see note on Marriage of Geraint, 296.
37. O I that etc., meaning 'O how unhappy a man am I, who'
etc., the sentence being broken in his heart (1. 41).
tend upon her, 'attend upon her.'.
39. compass, 'surround.'
94
GERAINT AND ENID.
40. To dress her beautifully etc. Geraint is always apt to rate
highly the attractions of dress, and this is a genuine British trait,
if we may trust the Welsh romances: see note on Marriage of
Geraint, 163. He dressed very brilliantly himself, was 'splendid
in his acts and his attire' as Enid felt, and he rated highly the
probable effect of his brilliancy upon others (M.G. 801). The
greatest proof of strength of character and love for himself which
he can suggest is the laying aside of a gorgeous gown at his
request; the care which he had taken to dress his wife beauti-
fully, he feels ought to have kept her true; and the first punish-
ment that he thinks of is to bid her put on her meanest dress. It
is evidently meant to suggest that in him there was a courtly
regard for outward show, which was a contrast to Enid's content-
ment in her humble state. She cared little for the splendour
except so far as it pleased him or did him honour (M.G. 11, 621).
42. The breaking off of the thought is compared to the break-
ing off of uttered speech under the influence of passion.
46. cast about. The metaphor in this expression may be
originally from hunting, in which to make a cast' or 'to cast
about' is to send out the hounds in various directions in search of
the trail, and so also in hawking: but the word 'cast' means
often in older English 'consider,' or 'contrive': cp. Chaucer, Man
of Lawes Tale, 450:-
'And caste anon how he myghte quyte hir while.'
47. unnoticed by herself. She had asked,
'If Enid errs, let Enid learn her fault,'
and he had replied,
'I charge thee, ask not, but obey.'
49. the great plover would be perhaps the so-called ' gray
plover,' rather larger than the golden plover: but the golden
plover has the more 'human' whistle. Enid is amazed by the
likeness of its whistle in these waste places to that of a man, and
fears constantly that some one will attack them.
51. brake means properly 'fern,' perhaps so-called because
growing upon broken ground; hence it is used for underwood
generally' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
ambuscade, from Spanish emboscada, Low Latin imboscare,
'to set in a bush or thicket' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
58. caitiffs: see note on M. of Geraint, 35. The word is used
either as substantive or adjective, cp. 1. 66: so 'villain' in
Gareth and Lynette, 157 and 700.
60. laggard. The same suffix is found in a few other words as
sluggard,' 'wizard.'
The Welsh story here says, that as they came near to a forest
they saw four horsemen come forth from it, and 'when the
NOTES.
95
horsemen beheld them, one of them said to the others, Behold
here is a good occasion for us to capture two horses and armour,
and a lady likewise; for this we shall have no difficulty in
doing against a single knight, who hangs his head so pensively
and heavily.'
65. I will go back etc. The original has it thus:-
'The ven-
geance of heaven be upon me, she said, if I would not rather
receive my death from his hand than from the hand of any
other; and though he should slay me, yet will I speak to him,
lest I should have the misery to witness his death.'
C
67. be he, if he be.'
...
:
68. Far liefer had I die see note on M. of Geraint, 93:
and compare the feeling expressed in that passage with what
we have here.
71. timidly firm, 'firm in her resolve, but afraid of his anger':
so in l. 140, with timid firmness.'
74 f. Notice the force which is here derived from the simpli-
city of the repetition.
76. Did I wish etc. In the original it is:— "Thou hadst only,
said he, to hold thy peace as I bade thee. I wish but for silence
and not for warning. And though thou shouldest desire to see
my defeat and my death by the hands of these men, yet do I
feel no dread.'
86. a cubit thro' his breast: that is, a cubit's length of the
shaft of Geraint's lance passed through his body.
87, 88. brace of comrades. The word 'brace,' used properly of
animals ('a brace of greyhounds,' 'a brace of partridges'), is
applied to men in contempt: so in Shaksp. Tempest, 5, 1, 126:-
'But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,
I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you
And justify you traitors.
Compare the expression 'a leash of kings' in Gareth and Lynette,
51. The Old French brace (Latin brachia) means the two
arms,' hence of things held one in each hand.
90. Swung from his brand etc. For brand,' see note on M.
of Geraint, 166.
a windy buffet: the epithet 'windy' implies that it was a
stroke that stirred the air. The whole expression is a pic-
turesque one, and the 'once, twice, to right, to left,' of the next
line represents the action by the rhythm, in which there is an
emphatic abruptness following upon the smooth swing of the
line before.
94. wolves of woman born: men who acted like beasts of prey,
and so were < worse than the wolves.'
96
GERAINT AND ENID.
97. each on each, i.e. each on that which belonged to it.'
101. ruth, 'pity': originally sorrow,' from the verb 'to rue,'
meaning 'to be sorry for'; cp. 'ruthless.'
105. fain had, 'gladly would have.'
107. smoulder'd wrong, i.e. the sense of wrong which was like
a smouldering fire, ever burning, but never breaking out into
flame. For the metaphor, cp. Coming of Arthur, 63 ff. :—
'A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts
Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm
Flash'd forth and into war.'
116. Caerleon is a few miles above the mouth of the Usk: see
note on M. of Geraint, 146.
117. turn: notice the subjunctive, which is less common and
therefore more poetical than 'turns.' The rhythm of this line
seems to express the ebbing of the tide wave by wave.
118. Pauses. The position of the word is meant to represent
the pause which is spoken of: compare the position of the words
'Fell' in 1. 389 and Beat' in 1. 404. In a somewhat similar
fashion the word 'fall' is emphasized in The Last Tournament,
460:
'But let the drunkard, as he stretch'd from horse,
To strike him, overbalancing his bulk,
Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp
Fall, as the crest' etc.
The pause which is referred to is the few minutes of high tide
before the ebb perceptibly begins.
119. In the first shallow shade. The oaks behind make a deep
gloom, but at the edge of the wood the shade is lighter.
120. stubborn-shafted. The shaft' is the trunk of the tree,
which goes up straight like the shaft of a spear (from 'shave,'
because it is shaven smooth): stubborn' (older 'stiborn') is
derived from styb, a stub or stump of a tree, so stubborn'
would mean 'stock-like,' and hence 'not easily moved.' The
metaphorical application of the word to trees is therefore really
a return to the original meaning of the word: cp. note on M. of
Geraint, 339.
123. shook her pulses,
cp. Princess, 3, 192:-
'made her pulses beat more quickly':
'the light of eyes
That lent my knee desire to kneel, and shook
My pulses.
125. a girl: set on. The unchivalrous character of the
brigands is marked by this exclamation and by what follows,
11. 128, 129.
NOTES.
97
127. craven, in older English 'cravant,' from French cravanté,
'broken,' 'oppressed'; originally from the stem of the Latin
crepare. In English it is used of one who has become a coward
by being beaten.
133. My lord is weary etc. In the original :-'This is but true,
said she to herself, for my husband is tired with the former
combat. The vengeance of heaven will be upon me, unless I
warn him of this.'
135. Needs must I: in this expression 'needs' is used as an
adverb meaning 'of necessity.'
136. How should I dare etc. This kind of repetition with
variation is characteristic of the poet and is often used with
extraordinary effect in emphasizing simple words, cp. Guinevere,
554-
'I love thee still,
Let no man dream but that I love thee still.'
149. sally, from French saillir, 'to issue forth,' Latin salire,
'to leap' cp. 'assail.'
151. As you that not obey me: 'I declare to heaven, he
answered, that their words are less grievous to me than that thou
wilt not be silent, and abide by my counsel.'
For not obey' instead of 'obey not,' cp. Gareth and Lynette,
11:-
'Thou dost his will,
The Maker's, and not knowest.'
152. the better man, 'the conqueror.' He assumes as before
that Enid probably desires his death.
154. not dare, i.e. 'not to dare... only to breathe' etc.
155. short fits of prayer: 'fit,' which means perhaps origin-
ally 'pace' (Icel. fet), is used for a division of a poem, and it is
in this kind of sense that it is used here. The use of it for attacks
of illness is derived from the same idea of separate portions or
steps, with intervals between.
156. he, she dreaded, 'he whom she dreaded,' a frequent ellipse,
e.g. Gareth and Lynette, 874 :-
'hard by here is one will overthrow
And slay thee.'
157. Aim'd at the helm etc., i.e. his lance which was aimed at
the helm, failed of its mark. The abruptness of the expression
is of course intentional.
159. home, i.e. to the destined place, the vital point: to
strike home' is to strike so that the stroke takes full effect, goes
to the place intended; so 'to charge (the enemy) home,' as in
Shaksp. Coriolanus, 1, 4, 38 :—
G
98
GERAINT AND ENID.
'Mend and charge home,
Or by the fires of heaven' etc.
We have also such expressions as 'to pay home,' 'to punish
home' etc., meaning to take revenge or exact punishment to the
full of that which is required.
160. The rhythm of this line represents first the breaking short
of the lance and then the rolling over of the enemy: cp. Lancelot
and Elaine, 26 :-
'Broke the strong lance and roll'd his enemy down.'
161. he that tells the tale means in this case the poet himself,
as does the similar expression in Gareth and Lynette, 1394, and
probably also in the Last Tournament, 226, where it introduces
a simile, as here :-
'for he that tells the tale
Liken'd them, saying, as when an hour of cold
Falls on the mountain in midsummer snows,
And all the purple slopes of mountain flowers
Pass under white, till the warm hour returns
With veer of wind, and all are flowers again;
So dame and damsel' etc.
On the other hand in the Coming of Arthur, 94 :- as he speaks
who tells the tale,' the reference is probably to some authority
which the poet is following, and this is certainly the case in
Pelleas and Ettarre, 482, for the reference is there to Malory.
With regard to this simile and the manner of its introduction,
it should be observed that the similes used by Tennyson often
derive vividness and force from a certain individuality which
suggests that they are exact copies of the personal experience of
the poet, things which he has seen himself in every detail as they
are recorded. This characteristic is especially brought into pro-
minence here by the distinct reference which is made to the ex-
perience of him who tells the tale,' but it is plainly visible in a
multitude of other similes, and sometimes has the effect of making
it difficult for one who has not seen the thing referred to under
the circumstances described, to realize the force of the comparison.
This effect may be produced either by reference being made to a
definite thing which is rather out of the range of ordinary experi-
ence, as in Gareth and Lynette, 908, 'the stone Avanturine,' and
1172, where the thing referred to is a little-known inscription
near a very obscure stream; and here, where the fall of the bandit
with the spear broken off in his body is compared to the sliding
down to the beach of a portion of a cliff with a tree growing in it:
or the thing may be common enough but described as seen under
special conditions, as in the simile quoted above from the Last
Tournament.
164. The rhythm is expressive of the action.
NOTES.
99
164. windy walls: cp. the Homeric äкpias veμoéσoas,
windy heights,' Od. 9, 400.
'the
168. bulwark is properly log work' (cp. 'bole' of a tree),
hence in general of works made for defence, and here meta-
phorically of the man in whom they had most trust.
170, 171. as one, That listens etc. In this fine simile the war
cry of Geraint as heard in battle above the other noises of the
fight is compared to the 'drumming thunder' of a great cataract
heard in the distance above the nearer sound of the mountain
torrent by which the listener stands.
176. like that false pair etc., and so also were these, who fled,
but were overtaken and died the death which they had inflicted
on many another.'
179. pick'd, i.e. 'chose.'
180 ff. cp. 11. 92-100.
187. To keep them belongs to 'Together' in 1. 189, from which
it is separated by one of the parentheses by which words which
belong closely to one another are often separated in Tennyson's
verse cp. note on Marriage of Geraint, 296.
189. disedge, 'blunt': so in Pelleas and Ettarre, 566:—' But
here will I disedge it by thy death.' The word is used by
Shaksp. Cymb. 3, 4, 96: when thou shalt be disedged' (i.e.
when the keenness of thy passion shall be abated'). A good
many rather unusual words formed with this prefix are found in
Tennyson, as discaged' (Gareth and Lynette, 20), 'disyoke
(Princess, 2, 141), 'dishelmed' (Princess, 6, 101), disprinced'
(Princess, 5, 29), 'dishorsed' (Marriage of Geraint, 563), 'dis-
linked' (Vivien), 'dis-archbishop' (Q. Mary, 4, 2, 79). The
meaning of these lines is that her troublesome task so absorbed
her mind that she had little leisure to think of her other trouble,
and so the pain of it was rendered somewhat less sharp.
191 ff. So the joy of Geraint's charger on seeing his master
again is partly because he is 'no more a vassal to the thief,' 11.
751 ff.
193. prick'd, i.e. 'set up,' as horses do when their attention is
roused by sound or voice.
light ears, because so quickly moving to any sound.
195. green gloom: cp. Pelleas and Ettarre, 32 :— 'Thro' that
green-glooming twilight of the grove': so in the Dream of Fair
Women we have 'deep-blue gloom' for the darkness of the sky
at night. Marvel compares oranges hanging in the shade of their
foliage to 'golden lamps in a green night,' and the same poet in
his Thoughts in a Garden speaks of the mind of him who reposes
in the garden as transforming all things into a green thought in
a green shade.'
100
GERAINT AND ENID.
198, 199. gemlike chased In the brown wild: the green meadow
surrounded by barren wilderness was like an emerald or some
other gem enclosed in a setting. The word 'chased' (for 'en-
chased') means 'enclosed,' from Old French enchasser, connected
with caisse, casse, 'box,' Lat. capsa (Skeat, Etym. Dict.). In
modern French enchasser means to set in a shrine,' from châsse,
'shrine,' which is in derivation the same as caisse. Here ‘chased'
is used in its original sense, but when it is said that Excalibur
was 'curiously and strangely chased' (Passing of Arthur, 254),
the word means rather 'engraved' or 'adorned with raised work,'
from the idea of ornamentation by jewels set in gold or silver,
but with the application of the word transferred from the gems
to that in which they are set.
202. victual: the word is now generally used in the plural,
but Tennyson avoids the more common-place expression by the
use of the singular, as in older English, e.g. Chaucer, Cant.
Tales, Prol. 749 :—
' And servede us with vitaille atte best.'
The modern spelling 'victual' is in reference to the Latin
victualia (from the stem of vivere, 'to live'), but as the word
comes through the French vitaille, such spelling is historically
false.
210. sward means originally 'skin' or 'covering,' hence the
green sward' is the grassy covering of the land, the green turf:
cp. Germ. schwarte, 'skin' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
213. stomach, 'appetite,' as frequently in Shakspeare, e.g.
Much Ado, 1, 1, 51:-'he is a very valiant trencher-man he
hath an excellent stomach'; 1, 3, 16-'I must... eat when I
have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure'; 2, 3, 265:- You
have no stomach, signior: fare you well.'
214. close with, agree to.'
218. guerdon, from Old French guerdon, Low Lat. widerdonum
(cp. Ital. guidardone), which is formed from the Old German
widar, 'back,' and Lat. donum, 'gift.' The Old German form is
widarlón (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
219. reddening: so of Gareth on receiving his arms and the
release from his vow:-
'Shame never made girl redder than Gareth joy.'
Gareth and Lynette, 526.
231. costlier, adverb, 'in a more costly manner': cp. Marriage
of Geraint, 769.
fare: the verb 'fare' means properly 'travel' (cp. Germ.
fahren), and thence to fare well or ill is to prosper or the reverse
(properly in one's journey), cp. 1. 500. As a substantive wel-
fare' comes to mean 'prosperity,' and 'fare' means that which
NOTES.
'101
falls to one's lot, especially with reference to the first necessary
of life, food; so here.
233. angrier appetite.
The idea of eager passion connected
with anger is transferred here to the appetite for food: cp.
Marriage of Geraint, 306.
237. if he want me for the use of the subjunctive cp. 1. 117.
242. thought himself a knight, because of the horse and armour
which he possessed.
245. errant, wandering': his eyes had followed the lad up
the rocky pathway.'
247. droopt, like a plant or a flower; cp. 1. 610.
doom, 'judgment': see Marriage of Geraint, 813 ff.
250. another humorous ruth: he had first felt pity for Enid,
though this is only implied, not stated, and now he feels pity
mingled with amusement for the mowers, whom he has for the
time deprived of their meal.
251. lusty originally meant 'pleasant'; so in Chaucer, e.g.
Squieres Tale, 52-Full lusty was the weder and benigne':
then 'vigorous' or 'strong.'
252. blaze on the turning scythe: as the scythe sweeps through
the grass the inclination of its blade varies continuously, so that
at one point or another it will probably catch the rays of the sun
and reflect them.
254. See Marriage of Geraint, 315 ff.
255. windy clamour, because loudest when the wind is rather
high: the 'daws' are jackdaws, which nest in old towers or ruined
buildings. Enid's thoughts as well as Geraint's are of the time
before shadow of mistrust' crossed between them, and go back
sadly to the associations of her old home.
258. listless annulet, careless little ring': 'annulet' is
diminutive from Latin annulus, 'ring,' which itself is a diminu-
tive of annus (originally 'circle,' hence 'year'): listless' pro-
perly means 'without pleasure' (for 'lustless'), then 'without
vigour,' 'careless': see note on 'lusty,' 1. 251. The rings are
called listless because made carelessly and without any real
thought of them, for the action is a mechanical one, and her
thoughts are elsewhere.
262 ff. Compare the corresponding passage of the Mabinogion
quoted in the Introduction.
266. voiceless thro' the fault of birth, i.e. born dumb, 'voice-
less by defect with which they were born.'
267. supporters in heraldry are men or animals set one on
each side of the coat of arms. They are used only in the arms of
noble or distinguished families. What is suggested here is a coat
102
GERAINT AND ENID.
of arms with two savages as supporters, one on each side of the
shield. Savages' or 'wild men are the terms used in heraldry
for men as supporters standing naked except a laurel-wreath
girdle, facing the spectator, one on each side of the shield, with
clubs in their outer hands. The royal arms of Denmark have
wild men as supporters.
270. On a sudden. The abruptness of expression and rhythm.
corresponds with the startling nature of the interruption.
272. Their drowse: according to the original they were weary
after having passed the night in the wood, but in the poem
the action is shorter, and they sleep after the fatigues of the
morning. Here 'drowse' is a substantive, much the same as
drowsiness'; in Old English it is a verb, to be sluggish.'
273. drave, intransitive, 'was driven.'
274. a rout is 'a body of broken troops,' Fr. route, Lat. rupta,
hence 'a disorderly crowd.'
C
roisterers, formed from 'roistering,' which comes from
'roister,' a turbulent fellow, French rustre, a boor,' Old
French ruste, from Lat. rusticus (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
575. A certain contempt seems to be expressed by the allitera-
tion with 'f,' as that with 'r' in the line above emphasises the
riotous character of the company.
276. For Limours and his courtship of Enid see Marriage of
Geraint, 440 ff. Tennyson has interchanged the names of Limours
and Doorm in the Welsh story, which, it may be observed, knows
nothing of this former acquaintance between Enid and the Earl.
278. pliant, because bending so as to adapt itself to all moods.
279. full-face: cp. the expression 'glowing full-faced welcome '
(Princess, 2, 166).
but stealthily belongs to 'Found Enid' etc., 1. 281.
282. knew her sitting, 'knew that she was sitting': cp.
M. of G. 447. If it meant 'recognised her, as she sat' etc., a
comma would be required after 'knew her.'
'To be
283. goodly cheer: the word 'cheer' means originally 'face,'
from Old French chere (cp. Ital. cera), Low Latin cara.
of good cheer' or 'to make good cheer' for a person are expres-
sions which contain the germ of the word 'cheerful,' and the
origin of the expression 'good cheer' in the sense in which we
have it here, viz. good things to eat or drink.
281. sumptuously, i.e. 'without limit of expense.
291. Free tales: 'free' means here free from restraints' of
decorum etc., so that it is equivalent to 'licentious.'
play'd upon it etc. : he played with the meaning of words
and brought out double senses: the wit is of the kind referred to
NOTES.
103
in Shaksp. Twelfth Night, 3, 1, 12:- Clown. To see this age! a
sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the
wrong side may be turned outward! Viola. Nay, that's certain :
they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.'
295. facets are the surfaces given to a gem by cutting it: a
gem of many facets would glance and sparkle whichever way it
was turned, for it would always catch and reflect the light from
one or other of its surfaces.
298. Then he asked of Geraint, Have I thy permission to go
and converse with yonder maiden, for I see that she is apart
from thee? Thou hast it gladly, said he' (Mabinogion). The
freedom with which leave is given is perhaps a little inconsistent
with Geraint's jealousy, especially as according to Tennyson the
person who asked leave was an old suitor of Enid, of whom
Geraint had already heard by name. In the French romance
jealousy is not part of his character nor the motive of his ill-
treatment of Enid.
306. pilot star: the metaphor is, of course, from the stars
which serve as guides for steering, chiefly those about the pole,
because more unchanging in position than the rest.
The com-
parison of a woman's eyes to the lode-star is a common-place of
poetry :-
O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars.'
Shaksp. Mids. N. Dream, 1, 1, 182.
So in Gareth and Lynette, 307 :-
'Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars of love.'
But here Enid herself is the pilot star of his life, and so in
Maud, 1, 4, 12 :—
'I see her pass like a light
But sorrow seize me if ever that light be my guiding star.'
310. Ye are in my power at last! The character of the man is
at once marked as utterly unchivalrous, and the repetition of the
expression are in my power' marks how he exults in the oppor-
tunity which has been offered to him.
312. civility, gentleness,' such as is the mark of civilization :
so in Shaksp. Cymbeline, 4, 2, 179, where Belarius wonders at the
instinct which forms the two princes, who have been brought
up in wildness,
To royalty unlearned, honour untaught,
Civility not seen from other.
>
315. you saw me favourably, i.e. 'you looked upon me with
favour.'
318. Owe you me nothing etc. If he had had any love worthy
of the name, he would not have claimed love as a debt, and still
104
GERAINT AND ENID.
less would he have suggested that the object of his love was
dearly bought by the sacrifice of half his own life. Evidently the
manner in which 'half' and 'whole' are set against one another
in these two lines is intended to point to something of this kind.
His only real feeling is 'self-pity,' if he has even that, and not
merely the fancy of it: cp. 1. 349. Contrast the selfishness here
with the self-abnegation expressed in In Memoriam, 62, 1 ff. :—
'Tho' if an eye that's downward cast
Could make thee somewhat blench or fail,
Then be my love an idle tale,
A fading legend of the past.'
320, 321. you and he... Ye sit apart, you do not etc. 'You' and
'ye' are here apparently distinguished, but only for the sake of
variety, for Tennyson uses 'ye' quite indifferently for singular
and plural; e.g. 11. 310, 332, and Marriage of Geraint, 276.
324. call it lovers' quarrels: though such differences may be
called lovers' quarrels,' of which there is the proverb amantium
irae amoris redintegratio, 'lovers' quarrels are the renewal of
love.'
325. bicker, frequentative from Old English 'biken,' 'to
skirmish,' or 'beken,' 'to peck,' a word of Celtic origin (Skeat,
Etym. Dict.). Here it means simply 'quarrel': elsewhere, as
in 1. 449, it denotes rapid and quivering motion backwards and
forwards, up or down, used especially of fire or water: so of
water in The Brook, 'To bicker down the valley'; of the light of
the star Sirius in The Princess, 5, 253, 'bickers into red and
emerald.'
331. A common chance: cp. Gareth and Lynette, 87 :—
an often chance
In those brain-stunning shocks, and tourney-falls.'
pall'd, .e. your beauty has pall'd upon him': 'pall'
originally means grow pale' (like appal '), "from old French
apalir formerly it was used especially of drink losing colour
and flavour by standing, and so becoming vapid. When we say
that a thing palls upon us we mean that it grows vapid or
colourless, and ceases to rouse our interest.
:
336. Good, speak the word like 'good now' in Shakspeare
and elsewhere (e.g. Ant. and Cleop. 1, 3, 78:- Good now, play
one scene of excellent dissembling' and Hamlet, 1, 1, 70:-
'Good now, sit down and tell me' etc.), used as a form of
request.
ring him round, 'surround him.'
338. nay is in reply to Enid's frightened look at the idea that
Geraint's life is in danger.
NOTES.
105
340. My malice is no deeper etc., that is, it will use no worse
instrument than a prison.
341. there is the keep, pointing in the direction of the castle :
the 'keep' in medieval fortification was the central and princi-
pal tower of the castle, to which the defenders retired when the
outer walls were taken.
342. cross us, i.e. come between us, to interfere with our
happiness, like 'came between' in 1. 314.
343. Or speak it not; but then etc. He threatens her with
carrying out his purpose by force, if she refuses to consent to it;
and then having sufficiently convinced her that he would not
scruple to make use of all his power, he affects to apologise for
his threat, 11. 346, 347, as proceeding from the passionate nature
of his love.
349. And sweet self-pity etc. The feeling that moves him
almost to tears is a selfish one-the sense of pity for his own
sorrows, the life half-lost, and the gentle nature turned wild,
which he pictures to himself as the result of his fancied passion.
And even this feeling of self-pity is only half-genuine partly it
is but fancy like his love. In the Princess, 7, 124, the Prince
sheds tears of self-pity over his love and its tragedy, but it is in
extreme physical weakness and languor.
351. Moist as they were, though they were moist,' and there-
fore had some sign of tenderness.
353. Guilty or guiltless. In a man the use of craft of this kind
in a case which affected his honour would be an indication of fear
and a presumption that he was not quite without reproach. A
woman, however, the poet implies, is so conscious of her physical
weakness that she naturally has recourse to a stratagem to stave
off a danger, even when her conscience is clear.
stave off means properly 'push away with a staff or pole,'
and it is used ordinarily of keeping vessels from dashing against
one another, or against the shore. The expression, however, in
the next line, 'That breaks upon them,' suggests rather the idea
of a wave, which properly speaking could not be 'staved off."
There is a similar mixture of metaphors in Hamlet's well-known
soliloquy :-'Or to take arms against a sea of troubles.'
356. do not practise on me, i.e. are not practising your skill
on me,' 'trying to deceive me': cp. Shaksp. Taming of the Shrew,
Ind. 1, 36-Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man,' and
2 Henry IV. 2, 1, 125:- you have, as it appears to me, practised
upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman.
>
359. with his brandish'd plume etc. The plume of his cap is
swept so low in his bow as to touch his foot: to brandish is
properly to wave a sword,' from 'brand.'
106
GERAINT AND ENID.
360. The homeliness of expression in this line implies a certain
absence of ceremony about Geraint's good-night, though it was
loud and hearty enough.
362. babbled expresses the foolish talk of a man intoxicated
with wine and vanity.
368. commune, used as a substantive for 'communion,' as in
In Memoriam, 116, 14:—
'For days of happy commune dead.
378 ff. The overstrained condition in which she was, caused her
sleep to be disturbed by dreams of slipping down precipices and
catching at thorn bushes which gave way when she seized them,
and so she woke with a violent start.
382. random here probably means 'gathered at hazard,' and
therefore consisting of ruffians of all kinds; but it might be
reckless.' The word is used of a thing said or done at hazard,
and especially in the phrase 'at random.' It comes from the
Old French randon, which is used for the force and swiftness of
a stream, and in the phrase à randon, 'in haste,' 'impetuously.'
The meaning of randon has reference to the force of a brimming
river, and the word comes apparently from the German rand,
'brim' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
384. the red cock shouting to the light. A bold and vivid
expression. For the epithet, cp. May Queen, 2, 23 :-
'Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill.'
385. A beautiful and picturesque line.
386. his means Geraint's of course, though the last person
mentioned before was the Earl.
388. jangling, ‘sounding discordantly,' an imitative word.
casque, helmet,' comes through French from the Italian
casco, connected with words that mean 'shell' or 'husk.' In
Spanish casco means 'skull,' 'sherd,' 'cask,' 'helmet,' and cas-
cara, rind' (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
"And what expect you
from beneath this iron shell?" said Richard, as the removal of
the casque gave to view the noble countenance of Sir Kenneth'
(Scott, Talisman, ch. 28).
399. Your sweet faces, i.e. the beauty of you women.'
403. like a household Spirit, because of the silence with which
she glided about, and the mysteriousness of the knocking. Note
the emphatic position of "Beat' in the next line: cp. 11. 118
and 389.
407. did him service as a squire: cp. Shaksp. Ant. and Cleop.
4, 4, 14 (where Cleopatra buckles on Antony's armour) :-' Thou
fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a squire More tight at this than
thou.'
NOTES.
107
409 ff. Desire the man of the house to come here; and the
man of the house came to him. Dost thou know how much I
owe thee? asked Geraint. I think thou owest but little. Take
the eleven horses and the eleven suits of armour. Heaven
reward thee, lord, said he, but I spent not the value of one suit
of armour upon thee. For that reason, said he, thou wilt be the
richer' (Mabinogion). (It will be remembered that in the Welsh
story twelve brigands had been killed, and consequently eleven
horses and suits of armour remained to be disposed of, instead
of five).
410. Suddenly honest, surprised into honesty,' implying that
that was hardly his wonted character.
419. would obey, 'desire to obey.'
420 f. Observe the monotony of structure in these two lines:
cp. notes on Marriage of Geraint, 50 and 239. The result here
is to give greater effect to a simple form of expression.
424. be not too wise etc. : she must not be over fond of ex-
ercising wise judgment; for he is not quite a fool, and can see
for himself the dangers of which she wishes to warn him, and
even perhaps a few which she would desire to conceal from him.
426. Not all mismated etc. 'Your husband is a man, no
senseless boor, but one not altogether unworthy of you': cp.
Last Tournament, 566 :—
'misyoked with such a want of man,'
and Locksley Hall, 47 :—
thou art mated with a clown.'
'Clown' is from a stem which means 'log,' hence clumsy
fellow': 'yawning' is used in reference to the want of vigilance
which he assumes is imputed to him by the suggestion that he
needs Enid to watch for him.
429. ears to hear you etc., referring of course to her supposed
confession of guilt in Marriage of Geraint, 108.
430 ff. Cp. Marriage of Geraint, 773 ff. The repetition of the
exact words in 11. 431 and 434 is intended to point the parallel
more strongly. In both cases it is Geraint's keen look of jealous
suspicion which causes the blush, but there it was the blush of
maiden modesty, and here of shame; not however, as a wanton
fool
or hasty judger would have supposed, the shame of
conscious guilt, but rather of being so little trusted and so
jealously watched.
434. either eyelid, 'each eyelid.'
442. rood is a variation of 'rod,' meaning 'staff' or 'pole.'
For one special use of the word, see note on M. of Geraint, 368.
108
GERAINT AND ENID.
Here it is simply a measure of length. Usually in Modern English
the form rood' stands for a measure of area (a quarter of an
acre), and 'rod' for a measure of length (5 yards).
446. Before the dew on the blades of grass had been dried up
by the sun.'
447. heavily-galloping evidently represents the sound in the
rhythm.
448. turning round, because the noise came from behind.
449. bicker, see note on 1. 325. Here it is used of the flash
from the lance-points, which came and went amid the cloud of
dust.
450. behest, 'command,' formed from 'hest': cp. German
heissen.
455. kept the letter of his word, 'kept his command literally,'
by not speaking, though in effect she disobeyed, because she
warned him.
458. like a thunder-cloud etc. The long plume and cloak fly-
ing behind him seem to be compared to the loose skirts of the
cloud just breaking into rain.
460. A forcible variation, meaning 'half run away with by his
horse.'
461. a dry shriek: cp. the Homeric expressions, кópules d'
ἀμφ' αὖον αΰτεων (and the helmets rang round about with dry
sound) and καρφαλέον δέ οἱ ἀσπὶς ἄυσεν (and his shield rang dry).
A certain harshness of sound is implied, but probably here what
is meant is that the man's throat is dry with passion, and the
shriek sounds as if it came from such a throat. So Doorm
when he is hot with anger can scarce eat till he has well drunk
(1. 659 ff.).
462 ff. Geraint unhorsed him so that he fell the length of
lance and arm' (that is the distance from the shoulder to the
lance's point) behind his horse's crupper.
466. rout: see note on 1. 274.
467. flash indicates the sudden outbreak of activity and
ardour for battle which Geraint displayed: cp. the expression
'flashed into sudden spleen' (Marriage of Geraint, 273).
468 ff. The simile is most picturesque and beautiful, finished in
its every detail: the clear stream with sandy bottom, the shoal
of fish not darting now, but sliding along in the sunshine with
their shadows moving beneath them on the sand, the hand held
up against the sun, so that the sunlight half shines through it,
yet casting a shadow on the water, and the fish darting away so
quickly that you cannot see where they are gone, but only con-
NOTES.
109
jecture that they are lying under the islets of flowering water-
cress which dot the stream. Hardly any poet but Tennyson has
done work like this, so minutely faithful and yet so picturesque
and appropriate.
470. dykes are properly trenches with embankments, and the
word is originally the same as 'ditch.' Here 'the crystal dykes'
are channels with clear water, which we must imagine to have
been made at Camelot for the royal pleasure. For Camelot' see
note on Marriage of Geraint, 432.
(
473. But lift, only lift,' like but scantily' in the lines
quoted above, and 'but' in 1. 476: cp. note on Marriage of
Geraint, 11.
474. twinkle is used of a rapid motion combined with a flash
of light.
475. cressy islets: the channel is covered with patches of
water-cress, which now in summer are white with blossom.
Water-cress is a cruciferous plant which grows best in clear
running water with sandy or gravelly bottom.
476. scared, from Old English 'skerre,' 'shy,' 'timid,' a
Scandinavian word connected with the stem scar, 'cut,' and
with words meaning 'shun': cp. 'sheer off.'
C
477. boon companions, properly 'good companions,' that is
companions in merriment. The word is hardly used except
in this phrase.
480. like a stormy sunlight: because it was a smile with gloom
in it.
490. shall we fast, or dine? i.c. shall we take his spoils and
pay for our dinner with them, or shall we go hungry?'
491. No? Enid makes a sign of dissent, when Geraint pro-
poses to strip Limours of his armour: she shrinks from carrying
off anything belonging to the man whom she has known as a
lover and loathed. Geraint suggests that she must pray then
that they may meet ere long with some other person whom they
may lawfully slay and spoil, some of the lawless horsemen of
Earl Doorm, in whose territory they now are.
being right honest, is a kind of jeer at the refinement of
honesty which would shrink from taking the spoils of one slain
in such a manner; and so she takes it, for it evidently jars upon
her, see line 494 ff. Note how the word 'honest' recurs in this
speech of Geraint's.
500. So fared it with Geraint. His bleeding under the armour,
of which he is hardly conscious, is like a loss which has be-
fallen a man who is in a far land, and as yet knows nothing;
110
GERAINT AND ENID.
the fainting and the fall is compared to the sudden discovery and
its effects.
505. wagg'd, 'swayed backwards and forwards.'
506. swerving here means 'bend' (of the road), properly 'turn-
ing aside.'
50S. This line agrees in its rhythm with the action, ending
after several pauses with the sudden monosyllable 'fell.'
514. The faded silk' becomes instrumental now in the pro-
gress of reconciliation.
515. blistering means properly 'raising bladders' on the skin
or elsewhere. The use of the word here about the sun's heat is
perhaps from the effect which the heat of the sun has upon
painted wood or metal, but it is also true that excessive exposure
to the glare and heat of the sun might cause the human skin to
peel off.
516. swathed, 'bandaged,' from 'swath,' which means now
only a 'line of mown grass,' but formerly also a 'shred of cloth '
used as a bandage: connected with 'swaddle' (for 'swathel').
C
520 ff. This picture of the various passers-by in the wild land
is very vivid, and the careless indifference to a woman weeping
for her murder'd mate' well marks the general lawlessness.
525. perilous, because by it he might incur the wrath of the
Earl.
529. It is possible that the rhythm of this line is designed to
express by its strongly marked division the careless gallop of the
man-at-arms, while the succeeding lines, with their smoothness
and absence of pauses, represent the more eager and rapid flight
of him who fled before an ever-fancied arrow.'
'
Whether
designed or no, the effect is what has been said.
532. smoke, with the dust he raised in his flight.
533. whinnying, 'neighing.'
537. under-fringe, an expressive word, which as a description
of the manner of growth of the beard conveys the idea of coarse-
ness.
rousse.
russet, "reddish," from French rousset, diminutive of
538. foray, a Lowland Scotch form of 'forage,' which properly
means 'fodder,' with the verb 'to forage' meaning 'to collect
fodder' (for horses, etc.): thence a 'foray' was a plundering
expedition,' since forage was obtained by plunder (cp. 1. 627):
Old French fourage, forre, Low Latin fodrum, from Scandinavian
foder: cp. English 'fodder,' from fode, 'food.'
eyes of prey are 'eyes eager for booty.'
539. lances, i.e. mounted men bearing lances: cp. 1. 600.
NOTES.
111
540. hails, 'greets' with a loud shout, so as to be heard at a
distance and above the sound of the waves: the word is commonly
used by sailors in the sense which we have here.
548. be he dead, if he be dead.'
549. quicken him, 'bring him to life.' Here the word is
transitive, but in Marriage of Geraint, 535, it means 'come to
life.' So also in Shakspeare it is found in both senses: e.g.
Tempest, 3, 1, 6 :—
'The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead,'
and King Lear, 3, 7, 38:-
'These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
Will quicken, and accuse thee.'
The word 'quick' means originally alive,' so we have the
quick and the dead' (Acts of the Apostles, 10, 42); 'Thou 'rt
quick, but yet I'll bury thee' (Shaksp. Timon, 4, 3, 44).
550. mar, 'injure,' 'spoil'; used of the features also in Lance-
lot and Elaine, 246 :-
'The great and guilty love he bore the Queen,
In battle with the love he bare his lord,
Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his time.'
553. An if is a reduplicated form of 'if,' for 'an' by itself
means 'if,' and is frequently so used by Tennyson.
557. brawny, 'muscular'; 'brawn' properly means 'muscle,'
and of the Miller in Chaucer's Prologue it is said :-
'Ful big he was of braun, and eek of boones,'
but it comes from words which mean 'lump of flesh' (Old French
braon), and is used in English also for 'boar's flesh.'
558. Each growling etc. The simile is vivid and picturesque,
as usual, but less minutely applicable than most of Tennyson's
comparisons. The resemblance is indeed almost confined to the
growling, and that suggests the whole scene of the dog and the
village boys, who love to vex him eating.' It is in short
more Homeric than Virgilian in style.
(
564. raid means originally 'ride,' then 'expedition for
plunder.'
565. litter-bier, that is something between a bed for a wounded
man and a bier for dead body: 'bier' is from the stem of the
verb 'bear.'
568. All in the hollow etc., i.e. just as he was in the hollow of
his shield, where they first placed him; as we use the word in
such familiar phrases as he lay down all in his wet clothes.'
569. naked, see note on 1. 604.
112
GERAINT AND ENID.
572. settle is a long bench with a high back, derived from
'sit' or 'set': cp. Germ. sessel (Skeat, Etym. Dict.).
580 ff. Observe the force of this simple repetition of nearly
the same words in the same form: see Introduction.
of structure cp. 11. 600 ff. and
Here it has a pathetic effect.
581. chafing: cp. note on 1. 27.
583 ff. For the monotony
Marriage of Geraint, 239 ff.
587. And yet lay still etc.
that she loves him, and yet
the uttermost.
He is convinced in his own heart
he chooses to try her so cruelly to
590. in the falling afternoon, i.e. late in the afternoon.
:
595. doff'd 'doff' is 'do off,' as 'don' is 'do on,' 'do' mean-
ing originally 'put': cp. Sanskrit dha. In older English 'did
off' appears as the past tense.
600. spears, 'spearmen,' so 'lances' in l. 539: we speak of so
many lances, sabres, or muskets, meaning such and such a force
of cavalry or infantry, and so in Scott's Waverley Fergus Mac-
Ivor reckons the available force of his clan at 'five hundred
claymores. For the succession of events marked by four
successive lines beginning with 'And,' cp. 1. 583 ff. and Marriage
of Geraint, 239 ff.
601. beeves, 'oxen.' The singular 'beef' now means only the
flesh of the ox, but formerly the animal itself, as the French bœuf.
604. the naked hall. This, the third repetition of the phrase,
marks with emphasis the uncivilized character of the surround-
ings, the hall unadorned as a stable, and the men eating in it
like horses.
610. drooping: cp. 1. 257. We are reminded by this word of
the blossom vermeil-white' which when we saw it first was just
breaking from its sheath: see Marriage of Geraint, 364.
612. out of her etc., that is, he felt the influence of her
beauty and of her sorrow.
615. God's curse is Doorm's characteristic oath, as ''sdeath' is
Arac's in The Princess.
616. Look yourself, 'look like yourself.'
620. so there lived etc., if there lived': this use of 'so' is
common in Tennyson (e.g. 'so ye care to learn,' Coming of Arthur,
183; so thou pass Beneath this archway,' Gareth and Lynette,
263) cp. so that' in Mar. of Geraint, 304.
621, 622. There is not one... Were fit, there is not one who
would be fit' etc.
624. I will do etc., 'I will do for you what I have never done
yet for any other': he says he will take her in marriage and
share his earldom with her.
NOTES.
113
627. forage, 'plunder': cp. note on 1. 538.
631. the old serpent, 'the spirit of evil,' an expression taken from
the Bible, Revelation, 12, 9:-'And the great dragon was cast
out, that old serpent called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth
the whole world.' The comparison to the withered leaf drawn
in by the worm and made earth, is one of those close applications
of well-observed natural phenomena in which Tennyson delights.
The leaf must first be withered and decayed before it is drawn
in by the worm, as the soul must have suffered corruption before
it can be completely drawn down under the influence of the
power of evil.
636. their best, 'the best of their sex.'
640. of your courtesy: cp. Gareth and Lynette, 635 :—
'having heard that Arthur of his
grace
Had made his goodly cousin, Tristram, knight.'
650 ff. With this passage compare the corresponding part of
the Welsh story, which is followed on the whole very closely:
'Come then, said he, and eat. No, by Heaven, I will not, she
answered. But by Heaven, thou shalt, said he. So he took her
with him to the table against her will, and many times desired
her to eat. I call Heaven to witness, said she, that I will not
eat until the man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise.
Thou canst not fulfil that, said the Earl, yonder man is dead
already. I will prove that I can, said she. Then he offered her
a goblet of liquor. Drink this goblet, he said, and it will cause
thee to change thy mind. Evil betide me, she answered, if I
drink aught until he drink also. Truly, said the Earl, it is of no
more avail for me to be gentle with thee than ungentle. And he
gave her a box on the ear. Thereupon she raised a loud and
piercing shriek, and her lamentations were much greater than
they had been before, for she considered in her mind that had
Geraint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus.'
650. cried out upon: i.e. 'exclaimed against': so in Maud,
1, 12, 17:—
'I to cry out on pride
Who have won her favour!'
(Cp. Shaksp. As You Like It, 2, 7, 70.) Shaksp. 1 Henry IV. 4,
3, 81:-
'Cries out upon abuses.'
651. but, 'nought but.'
652. suddenly seized on her: for the abruptness cp. note on
1. 270.
659. Lo! I, myself etc. There is unconscious humour in the
implied comparison both of persons and of moods, of the sorrow
II
114
GERAINT AND ENID.
which made Enid droop with the mood in which Doorm, flushed
with fight or hot with anger, found himself scarce able to eat
until he had well drunken.
670. Girl, for I see etc.
This use of 'for' for 'since' is char-
acteristic of the poet : cp. Gareth and Lynette, 330:—
'Yet, for the field was pleasant in our eyes,
We yielded not.'
Cp. Spenser, Faery Queene, 2, 3, 5 :—
'But, for in Court gay portance he perceived
And gallant show to be in greatest gree,
Eftsoons to Court he cast t' advance his first degree.'
The use is like that of the Greek yáp, and so is also Tennyson's
use of 'for' to introduce a story, as :-
'Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's time,' etc.,
Coming of Arthur, 184.
672. A repetition from 1. 628.
674. flout. The verb to 'flout' is from the Dutch fluyten, 'to
play the flute,' also 'to jeer.' Hence 'flout' means 'mockery.'
675. Amazed am I, etc. He is surprised at his own moder-
ation.
676. butt against: the metaphor is from the idea of an
animal, a heifer or a goat, which resists by butting with its
forehead and horns. The word is from the same stem originally
as 'beat,' but derived through French from Old High German.
679. weed, 'garment': hardly used in ordinary English now
except in the expression widow's weeds,' but common in older
English and in Shakspeare, e.g. Midsummer Night's Dream, 2,
1, 256 :-
'Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in,'
and 2, 2, 71:—
'Weeds of Athens he doth wear.
There is no connection in derivation between this word and
'weed' meaning a useless herb.
683. Observe the repetition.
687. like a shoaling sea. As the sea becomes gradually shal-
lower the colour would vary in certain lights from dark blue to
green, and the transition might be delicately graduated so that
it would be impossible to say where the blue ended and the green
began: 'shoal' is the same word originally as 'shallow," and
'shoaling' means 'getting shallower.'
690. When all night long etc. The cloud would cause the grass
NOTES.
115
to be thickly covered with drops of water, and when the
sunlight struck upon these, they would flash like myriads of
gems.
693. harder to be moved etc. The force of the simile is partly
derived from its inappropriateness, so to speak. The contrast in
temper between the gentle Enid and the man who having suffered
long oppression and been hardened into cruelty has gained at
length the upper hand of his enemies and will allow nothing to
cheat him of his vengeance, has the effect of heightening the
impression produced by the one point of similarity, namely, that
she will not be moved from her purpose. We feel how intense
the purpose must be which brings Enid to any degree of resem-
blance with such a person.
697. In this poor gown. Note the repetition of this form of
words in the succeeding lines as an example of the method by
which Tennyson often gives force and pathos to simple words:
see Introduction, and notes to Marriage of Geraint, 50, Geraint
and Enid, 420, 583.
709. God, i.e. 'in God's name' or 'for God's sake.'
722. As of a wild thing etc. A very vivid comparison.
726. The hurrying of the rhythm represents the rapid sweep of
the sword.
727. swarthy properly means 'dark-coloured from heat,' from
a stem meaning originally 'to burn,' hence of skin darkened by
exposure to the sun.
730 ff. 'Then all left the board and fled away. And this
was not so much through fear of the living, as through the dread
they felt at seeing the dead rise up to slay them.'-Mabinogion.
736. That trouble which etc., i.e. trouble such as': cp. 1. 11.
He implies that he too has been a sufferer in her troubles.
741. I heard you say. He emphasises by repetition what
seems to him the unanswerable justification of his suspicion.
742. He will not ask her meaning, no,—but he expects an
explanation nevertheless; and she gives none, and can say no
tender word just at this moment to one who has so doubted her;
not that she bears resentment, but she simply feels 'dull and
stupid at the heart,' and no spontaneous movement of tenderness
can come just now.
752. vassal, 'subject'; French vassal, Low Latin vasallus,
originally from Celtic gwas, 'youth,' 'servant.'
762. since high in Paradise etc. The reference is to the perfect
and unbroken felicity of relations between man and wife, which
116
GERAINT AND ENID.
may be supposed to have existed in Paradise, if anywhere. The
'four rivers' are of course those spoken of in Genesis, 2, 10-14, as
flowing in divers directions through the earth from the river
which watered Eden.
766. Put hand to hand etc., i.e. encircled him with her arms,
joining her hands beneath his heart.
769. Like that which etc. The comparison is suggested by the
former reference to Eden. In Genesis, 2, 5, 6, we are told that
before God caused it to rain on the earth, there went up a mist
from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground.'
770. the useful trouble, because rain is often troublesome
by its violence or excess, though at the same time useful. The
mist may be conceived to have been a milder and pleasanter
way of watering the earth, and so this mist which came over
Enid's eyes was a milder and happier way of expressing her
emotion than a burst of tears.
774, 775. laid his lance In rest. See note on Marriage of
Geraint, 496.
778. Slay not a dead man: 'Oh, chieftain, whoever thou art,
what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?' exclaims
Enid in the Welsh story to Gwiffert Petit, who is about to attack
them (under a mistake) soon after they leave the castle of the
slain Earl.
782. him who gave you life: see Marriage of Geraint, 574 ff.
786 f. Notice how the address is changed from Geraint to Enid
and then back to Geraint again. The latter change, occurring in
a dependent clause, is rather remarkable.
788. chastens, like chastise,' comes originally from Latin
castus, pure,' and means 'make pure' or 'keep pure' by punish-
ment. It is therefore used for that kind of punishment which
aims at correction.
792, 793. Now made a knight ... And since etc., i.e.
And since etc., i.e. 'Now since
I have been made a knight ... and since I formerly knew this Earl,'
i.e. Doorm.
797. Disband himself, 'dismiss his band.'
802. knoll, cp. Marriage of Geraint, 162.
803. aghast, see note on 1. 18.
809. that other, 'the other,' i. e. Geraint: cp. 1. 7. He is
conscious that his actions are not such as will bear examination
as regards their motive, though in outward form they may seem
to be a fulfilment of the promise given to the King.
810. halted, hesitated': 'halt' means properly 'go lame,' a
different word from 'halt' meaning 'stop': cp. :—
NOTES.
117
‘He seems as one whose footsteps halt' (Will, 15).
In Shakspeare, Cymbeline, 3, 5, 92, it is used as here of hesitation
in speech:
'No further halting: satisfy me home
What is become of her.
812. After madness acted etc. He feared questions which
would compel him to confess how madly he had acted.
817. the bandit, collective for 'bandits': for etymology, see
Marriage of Geraint, 35.
$20. In a hollow land etc. She fears him as men fear fresh
outbursts of volcanic force in a land which, though it seems as safe
as other lands, is known to be 'hollow,' to have, as it were, fur-
naces beneath, because in old time fires have broken out from it.
826. My nature's prideful sparkle: the spark of pride, which
blown by passion broke into flame; cp. Marriage of Geraint, 273.
For 'sparkle in the blood' cp. Shaksp. 3 Henry VI. 1, 1, 184:—
"In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.”
828. wrought, 'worked.'
830. one main purpose, i.e. that which is mentioned below, 11.
838-844.
834. wax'd, 'grew.'
841. answer'd Heaven, looked fearlessly to Heaven, reflecting
its colour and its purity.
856. waiting, 'expecting.'
859 ff. Cp. Guinevere, 39:-
'In those days
No knight of Arthur's noblest dealt in scorn.
864. Dubric: see note on Marriage of Geraint, 838.
867. makes a man, cp. the Winchester motto 'Manners makyth
Man,' in which however manners' does not mean quite the
same as 'gentleness.' For the value of gentle manners cp.
Guinevere, 332 :
'For manners are not idle, but the fruit
Of loyal nature, and of noble mind.'
SS3. kiss'd her. The kiss of Enid by the King, when Geraint
first brought her home, is one of the prominent incidents of the
French romance, the King being privileged on this occasion to
kiss any lady he would, because he had slain the white hart.
The kiss here is the only one recorded by Tennyson, and it has
no such special significance.
118
GERAINT AND ENID.
889. I was prick'd with some reproof: see Marriage of Geraint,
39 f.
890. stagnate, like water, which becomes fouler because left
undisturbed and stagnant.
891. thro' alien eyes, i.e. the eyes of others' instead of my
own.
892. delegated: a delegate is one who is appointed to do some-
thing in place of some superior, who gives him commission to do
it for him. Arthur reproaches himself with having trusted to
the reports and the action of others instead of seeing with his
own eyes and working with his own hands.
894. Cp. Marriage of Geraint, 39.
902, 903. the vicious quitch Of blood and custom. Quitch
or quitch-grass, also called couch grass, is a plant of the
wheat kind, which is common in Europe and North America.
It is perennial, and has long creeping roots, which make it ex-
tremely difficult of extirpation. In some places it is grown for
pasture in loose sandy soils, but in others it is chiefly known as
a troublesome weed. Here the metaphor is of weeding land,
the faults to be extirpated being both of blood and custom,'
that is, both natural and acquired by evil habit.
C
914. Than if some knight of mine etc. The reference is of
course to Geraint's own feats, which he feels are neither great
nor wonderful.' 'My subject with my subjects under him' is
an exact description of the position of the tributary prince, and
the single onslaught on a realm of robbers, in which he had risked
his life and his wife's honour, is censured by implication as rash
and unreasonable.
922. leech, 'physician,' from a stem meaning 'heal.' Hence
also the species of worm which is used to draw blood is called
a leech, that is a 'healer.'
926. genial, 'pleasant,' coming through French from Latin
genialis, which has the same meaning, a meaning derived prob-
ably from the idea of agreement with one's natural disposition,
the genius of a person being his spiritual counterpart, represent-
ing his natural disposition in a kind of abstract way. Here the
genial courses of his blood' stand for those channels of feeling
which formerly were poisoned by jealousy and distrust, but now
are being filled with pure streams of love: the epithet is there-
fore rather anticipative, 'fill'd the courses of his blood and made
them flow genially.'
928. As the south-west etc. Bala lake is in Wales, and out
of it flows the river Dee, at first in a north-easterly direction.
The south-west wind blows from end to end of the lake, and as
it drives the water to the north-east it would more and more
NOTES.
119
fill the channel of the river. The Dee was by the ancient Britons.
accounted a sacred stream, and its name, Deva, perhaps means
'divine.' Milton in Lycidas speaks of Deva's wizard stream
in the same sense. As to 'south-west' for 'south-west wind' cp.
Gareth and Lynette, 1117 :-
Loud south-westerns rolling ridge on ridge';
but this use of 'south-western' for S. W. wind is common in
ordinary language, whereas 'south-west' is poetical.
930. lay healing, i.e. lay a-healing,' as we say 'the house was
building' (for 'a-building'), in which expressions 'healing' and
'building' are verbal nouns, and a-healing' is for 'on healing,'
like 'asleep' (for 'on sleep'), 'abed,' 'afire' etc.
933. guard the justice, 'administer the laws' of the King, as
opposed to those of each petty baron: cp. Gareth and Lynette,
373:-
'According to the justice of the king.'
935. Men weed the white horse: still the metaphor is from
weeding, but this time for a different purpose. 'The white
horse on the Berkshire hills' is the gigantic figure of a horse
made on the side of a hill by cutting away the turf (and so
leaving exposed the white chalk beneath), which commemorates
the victory of Ashdown gained by the English under Alfred over
the Danes, in the year 871. The hill on which it is cut is called
from it the White Horse Hill. The white horse was the emblem
of the Saxons or English, as the dragon of the Britons and the
raven of the Danes. So in Guinevere, 15:-
'the Lords of the White Horse
Heathen, the brood by Hengist left.'
To keep the figure of the horse white and clean, it is regularly
weeded, and this is the operation referred to here.
938. wink'd at, shut his eyes to.' 'To wink' is properly 'to
move the eyelids quickly,' hence as here of shutting the eyes for
a moment.
A distinction is made between those officers who had allowed
wrong to be done from mere sloth, and those, more guilty, who
had received bribes to let it pass.
940. With hearts and hands, that is, with the will to do right,
and also the energy to carry their will into effect.
942. Clear'd the dark places etc., as sunlight is let in by clear-
ing away trees in a forest: cp. Coming of Arthur, 58 ff. :—
'Then he drave
The heathen; after, slew the beast, and fell'd
The forest, letting in the sun, and made
120
GERAINT AND ENID.
Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight
And so returned.'
There however the clearing of the forest is a literal fact, here it
is metaphorical.
950. breathed upon. The metaphor is from the dulling of
bright or transparent things, as metal or glass, by breathing
upon them.
953 f. Repeated from M. of Geraint, 44 f.
957. the spiteful whisper is that mentioned in M. of Geraint,
56 ff.
966. fealty, 'fidelity.'
967, 968. fell Against the heathen etc. See note on M. of
Geraint, 1. The heathen of the Northern Sea are the Saxons.
INDEX TO THE NOTES.
A stands for The Marriage of Geraint, в for Geraint and Enid.
The numbers refer to the lines.
abolish, A 210.
aghast, B 18.
A
ambuscade, B 51.
'all,' B 568.
alliteration, B 275.
angry, (appetite), B 233.
-ard (suffix), B 60.
arrangement of the poems, a 4,
134.
array, A 516.
at bay, ▲ 233.
attire, A 62.
brawl, a 441.
brawny, B 557.
break covert, a 183.
breathe ('rest'), A 567
breathe upon, в 950.
bridals, A 231.
brocade, A 363.
brood (verb), B II.
burnish'd, A 650.
but, A 11, B 473.
a
butt, B 676.
C
B
Bala lake, B 928.
bandit (adj.), a 35; (subst.), B
S17.
beeves, B 601.
bicker, в 325, 449.
blurr'd, A 649.
boon (companions), B 477.
bourg, A 276.
brace, B 87.
Cader Idris, ▲ 543.
Caerleon upon Usk, a 146.
caitiff (adj.), A 35; (subst.),
B 58.
Camelot, A 432.
casement, A 71.
casque, в 388.
Cassivelaun, a 744.
cast about, в 46.
Cavall, A 185.
cedarn, ▲ 136.
chafe, B 27.
chased, B 198.
chasten, B 788.
brake, B 51.
brand, ▲ 166.
brandish, B 359.
cheer (subst.), û 283.
121
122
INDEX TO THE NOTES.
civility, B 312.
F
close (i.e. intimate '), A 22.
clown, B 426.
common (i.e. 'mutual'), A 23.
commune (subst.), B 368,
coppice, a 339.
costly (adv.), a 769, в 231.
costrel, A 386.
craven, B 127.
cressy islets,' B 475.
D
Dee, river, B 928.
Desdemona, compared with
Enid, A 434.
'dew of labour,' A 568.
dis- (prefix), в 189.
disarray'd, A 516.
disedge, B 189.
doff, B 595.
dishorse, A 563.
dragon-fly, in simile, A 167,
172.
'draw bright,' a 594.
dreams of Enid, A 674, B 378.
drowse, B 272.
dry shriek,' B 461.
Dubric, A 838.
dwarf, A 187.
dyke, B 470.
E
earth (of a fox), a 217.
either for each,' A 70.
Elaine, comparison with, a 345,
393.
ellipse of relative, B 156.
Enid, description of, A 364;
her dress, A 613, 848; her
character, A 345 ff., в 40,
71; her song, a 345 ff.
epithets, double, a 362.
errant, A 545, B 245.
facet, B 295.
fain, a 375.
falcons as prizes, a 484.
fare, в 231.
fish darting away, в 468 ff.
fit (subst.), B 155.
flash,' Tennyson's use of, a
167, 273, B 467.
flaw (gust'), a 764.
flower maiden, a 742.
flower-sheath, a 364.
Flur, A 744.
for (in spite of') a 116.
Forest of Dean, A 148.
foray, forage, в 538, 627.
forge, B 3.
garnet, A 661.
G
gaudy-day, A 818.
genial, в 926.
Geraint, A 1; his character,
A 28, 761, B 40, 587; his
courtesy, A 381.
glade, a 236.
glamour, a 743.
golden carp, A 648.
good,' в 336.
' good truth,' a 290.
grateful, ▲ 437.
green gloom,' в 195.
grope, в 6.
guerdon, в 218.
Guinevere, A 14.
Gwydion, A 742.
halt, B 810.
H
harbourage, A 281.
harness, A 93.
haunt, B 30.
INDEX TO THE NOTES.
123
heathen of the Northern Sea,
B 967.
hern, B 31.
hilt, A 166.
'hollow land,' в 820.
home (adv.), B 159.
Homeric phrases, A 85, 362,
618, B 164.
hostel, A 255.
hubbub, A 264.
I
imitative rhythm, A 208, 282,
B 90, 117, 157, 160, 164,
379, 447, 508, 529, 726.
irregular construction, A 43,
446.
irony of the narrative, a 790.
M
manchet bread, ▲ 389.
marches, A 41, в 30.
metaphors remarked on, A 60,
74, 339, 594, 812, в 12, 107,
120, 198, 306, 353, 676, 902.
mismated with a clown,' B
426.
mist of Eden, в 769.
mixen, a 672.
molten, a 60.
monotony of structure, A 50,
239, 549, в 420, 583.
muse, A 295.
N
nightingale, in simile, a 329 ff.
noise, A 437.
J
jealousy of Geraint, a 28, 761,
797.
jeer, a 58.
jousts, a 537.
justice of the King,' в 933.
O
oust, A 459.
Order of the Table Round, a 3.
P
palfrey, A 126.
pall, B 331.
lag, A 188.
L
lance in rest, a 496, в 774
lander, ▲ 330.
leech, B 922.
let,' use of, A 152.
lief, A 93.
Limours, character of, B 310,
318, 349.
liquid note,' A 336.
listless annulet, в 258.
litter-bier, в 565.
live (for prevail'), a 26.
lusty, a 764, в 251.
Paradise, rivers of, B 762.
parentheses in Tennyson, A 70,
296, 398, 498, 604, в 35
187.
pass, for 'die,' в 6.
past, ▲ 45.
pathetic repetition, a 116, в 6,
538.
'patient,' A 504, 707.
pauses in the verse, в 118, 403.
pilot star,' B 306.
pipe, A 279.
plover's whistle, в 49.
plumed with fern,' A 316.
'practise on', в 356.
presence, A 431.
| purblind, B 1.
124
INDEX TO THE NOTES.
quicken, a 535.
quitch, referred to in metaphor,
B 902.
R
ragged robin, a 724.
raid, B 564.
random, в 382.
rapt, A 529.
ravine, A 246.
'red cock,' в 384.
repetition in Tennyson, A 50,
239, 408, 549, в 136, 180,
430, 580, 604, 697. See
also Introduction.
rest of lance, a 496.
robin, in simile, A 774, в 431.
roisterer, B 274.
rood, A 368, (as measure) B 442.
round (i.e. 'rapid '), в 33.
rout, B 274.
rove, A 399.
ruinous, a 315.
slur (verb), A 106.
'smoulder'd wrong,' в 107.
so... as, A 502.
so that (conditional), A 223: so,
B 620.
song of Enid, a 345, 351.
south-west (wind), B 928.
sparkle in the blood,' в 826.
sparrow-hawk, a 260.
spears (for 'spearmen '), в 600.
Spenser, parallel with, B 1.
spleen, a 273.
spurs to win,' a 128.
squire, a 125, в 407.
stagnate, B 890.
state, A 430.
Stoical philosophy of Enid and
C
Yniol, A 351.
supporters of a shield,' в 267.
sward, B 210.
swarthy, B 727.
Swinburne's witness to Tenny-
son's accuracy, a 829.
sack, A 458.
S
save (for 'except '), A 310.
scare, B 476.
scoff, A 58.
seasons of the Idylls, A 69.
self-pity,' B 349.
serpent, the old, в 631.
Severn, A 45.
settle (subst.), B 572.
seneschal, A 710.
shell worn by the sea, A 680.
shoal (verb), B 687.
similes remarked on, A 6, 77,
329, 521, 734, в 161, 170,
458, 468, 496, 558, 631,
687, 693.
T
Table Round, a 3.
that other (for the other '), B 7,
809.
that... which (for such... as '),
B 11, 736.
tissue, A 663.
toward, A 495.
tourney, A 287.
tower at Caerleon, a 827.
trellis, A 659.
turkis, A 661.
twain, A 539.
U
under-fringe,' B 537.
' useful trouble,' в 770.
utter, A 381.
uxoriousness, a 60.
INDEX TO THE NOTES.
125
V
vassal, B 752.
vermin, a 217.
victual, B 202.
vizor, a 189.
weed, B 679.
W
weeding the white horse, B 935.
Whitsuntide festival, A 145.
'white horse on the Berkshire
hills,' B 935.
'wild men 'as supporters, в 267.
wilding, A 319.
windy buffet,' в 90; 'windy
clamour,' B 255.
wink at, B 938.
women's craft, в 353.
worship, a 49.
wroth, A 213.
Y
Yniol's character, a 472.
Yule, A 559.
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